🎨 Artcow Iconoclast / Jonathan Mack Sweet - The Chris-Chan of Arkansas

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From another of Mr. Sweet's many online bios:

"Jonathan M. Sweet, a proud graduate of Arkansas State University and a former columnist for their newspaper, was born in Chicago, but spent much of his life living in the filthy, crime-ridden Southern town which forms the backdrop for much of his work. In addition to short fiction and novels, he is at work drawing and illustrating the yet-unpublished Belch Dimension Comics, serving as both a marketing executive for Melaleuca, Inc. and a Cash-for-Stuffing employee, reading, surfing the ‘Net, and playing harmonica to the music of his idol, Mr. Bob Dylan."

The idol of this racist buffoon is Bob Dylan? BOB DYLAN?

Can anyone here picture Mr. Sweet huffing asthmatically into his harmonica while Dylan sings . . . oh, I don't know . . . let's say The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carrol? Or maybe Oxford Town? Or maybe Hurricane? Is it possible in this universe or any other that even someone as butt-ignorant as Mr. Sweet doesn't understand what those songs are about?

And what about the utterly false and intolerable idea that the times they are a-changin'? Does Mr. Sweet cast aside his drool-covered mouth organ and sing along?

Bob Dylan?
 
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Dr. Merkwurdichliebe said:
And what about the utterly false and intolerable idea that the times they are a-changin'? Does Mr. Sweet cast aside his drool-covered mouth organ and sing along?
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Come gather 'round people, wherever you roam (unless you're black)
And refuse to admit that the waters around you have grown
And don't accept it that soon you'll be drenched to the bone
'Cuz your time's clearly not worth savin'
So don't bother swimming, just sink like a stone
'Cuz the times, they are a-changin' (because of the evil, liberal/progressive System)
 
Dr. Merkwurdichliebe said:
From another of Mr. Sweet's many online bios:

"Jonathan M. Sweet, a proud graduate of Arkansas State University and a former columnist for their newspaper, was born in Chicago, but spent much of his life living in the filthy, crime-ridden Southern town which forms the backdrop for much of his work. In addition to short fiction and novels, he is at work drawing and illustrating the yet-unpublished Belch Dimension Comics, serving as both a marketing executive for Melaleuca, Inc. and a Cash-for-Stuffing employee, reading, surfing the ‘Net, and playing harmonica to the music of his idol, Mr. Bob Dylan."

The idol of this racist buffoon is Bob Dylan? BOB DYLAN?

Can anyone here picture Mr. Sweet huffing asthmatically into his harmonica while Dylan sings . . . oh, I don't know . . . let's say The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carrol? Or maybe Oxford Town? Or maybe Hurricane? Is it possible in this universe or any other that even someone as butt-ignorant as Mr. Sweet doesn't understand what those songs are about?

And what about the utterly false and intolerable idea that the times they are a-changin'? Does Mr. Sweet cast aside his drool-covered mouth organ and sing along?

Bob Dylan?
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He apparently likes Digital Underground.
http://usaspatriot.proboards.com/thread/1226/day-oh-hey-21?page=56

There was another thread where even the members of AJM were surprised by that fact but I don't remember where.
 
Dr. Merkwurdichliebe said:
The idol of this racist buffoon is Bob Dylan? BOB DYLAN?
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Sweet actually has published a book (or, rather, "published" a "book") titled "Postcards of the Hanging." He also produced a rather unimaginative comic adaptation of "Desolation Row" starring his self-insert.

Additionally, in "Spring Break in Hell," Sweet specifies that "Just Like a Woman" would be playing over his and Daria's post-coital afterglow.

There are actually many, many gratuitous references to Dylan sprinkled throughout Sweet's work. It's a bit like pre-Tomgirl Chris and Seth MacFarlane.
 
It wouldn't shock me at all that Sweets is a big fan of rock protest songs. He's completely incapable of comprehending subtext.
 
Dr. Merkwurdichliebe said:
You and I may have attended the same school.

During my time as an undergrad, I was aware of three people who showed up on campus exhibiting symptoms similar in type but milder in degree than Mr. Sweet's. Two of them were notorious for the excruciatingly embarrassing comedy routines they would regularly perform outside the student union and in the dining hall. The other was best-known for sitting in the student union and fixing his creepy gaze on every remotely attractive woman who walked by. Not one of them made it to the end of his first semester, although the creepy gazer (known to all as The Man in Black because of his unvarying attire) resisted being expelled -- perhaps motivated by the scrumptious buffet-style food in the cafeteria? -- to the point that he handcuffed himself to the bed in his dorm room when the campus police showed up to escort him from the campus. (Yes, he kept handcuffs in his dorm room.)

If Mr. Sweet sperged out in the dining hall or his dorm, he would have been told -- very, very pointedly by guys with large, gristly fists -- to stop. If he didn't, there would have been consequences.
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I think the Creepy Gazer's long-lost twin brother attended my school. But ours went beyond gazing and would aggressively hit on any woman who was even the slightest bit attractive, as long as she was alone. He made the mistake of harassing a woman who regularly carried pepper spray and had a black belt in one of the more painful martial arts (I forget which one). He did not repeat his mistake. We were very territorial in the dorms, as frat boys would get drunk and come over to the dorms and trash the place then retreat to their frat houses. This tribal-like social grouping extended to dealing with disruptive residents and those who made life uncomfortable for the rest of us. Sweet would have been beaten regularly, right up until he was expelled.
 
Heh. Heh heh heh. He sells Melaleuca. Really? Seriously? That's hilarious. :lol:
Even funnier is of course, the fact that he feels the need to let us all know, like it's some kind of accomplishment. Ho ho.
 
I love learning all these details about Sweets. Literally everything was his goddamn fault; he even knew and could regulate how he acted, but he was too damn delusional to actually not act like a twat outside of class. He literally was given one of the best shots ever, and he fucked it up big time.
 
Dr. Merkwurdichliebe said:
A tiny dorm-room wastebasket thrown from a fourth-floor window at a yowling moron screaming obscenities strikes me as a pretty foolish assassination attempt.

Let's examine Mr. Sweet's claims a bit more closely.

Everyone in sight of the failed killing would have had his eyes on Mr. Sweet. They would have easily identified the room from which the almost-deadly wastebasket was launched. The wastebasket is lying there, almost certainly covered with the would-be murderer's fingerprints. Why not pick it up and call the cops? Seeing which dorm window was open would make it very easy to find out from which room the nearly fatal missile was hurled. Why not find out if it was indeed Mr. Mitchell's room?

Mr. Sweet is obviously not the type to let something like this go. So, after barely escaping with his life, why did he do nothing about the incident except create insane revenge fantasies for the next twenty years?

I think we all know the answer.
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Well, considering that the assassination attempt was part of The System's conspiracy, perhaps there was actually more than one wastebasket thrown? Eyewitnesses said they saw a wastebasket flying from the direction of a grassy knoll. How do you explain that, hmm?
 
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DrJonesHat said:
It's the classic excuse of the lazy. "I would have been great, but the system kept me down!" That he believes this indicates that he'll never rise above his present circumstances.
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Obviously the solution is to be bitter, live with your mother and never accomplish anything. He sure showed THE SYSTEM!
 
wheat pasta said:
Heh. Heh heh heh. He sells Melaleuca. Really? Seriously? That's hilarious. :lol:
Even funnier is of course, the fact that he feels the need to let us all know, like it's some kind of accomplishment. Ho ho.
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"Marketing Executive." Now, "everyone pads their resume," but sheesh...
 
Ruin said:
They actually let him write?
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Well, at least according to Sweet. Sweet would write an article and get showered with gifts in return - or at least, as he saw it:
A post by Sweet on page 38 said:
Back in my newspaperman days, when I wrote a good column, the readers showed their appreciation with gifts. The type of gift depended on the subject. For a piece in which I mentioned Marilyn Monroe, I got a couple of nudie mags, one of which has a great spread on Marilyn. I got two plastic drink bottles, the sort runners and athletes use (I was very into jogging and working out then) for one of my political pieces[...]
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