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Apelife - some cartoons and comics by Raz

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I got an Xbox

June 30th 2009

I've given up on my efforts to secure the love of a beautiful woman after the police came round and told me to stop. Since then I've found solace in the form of a games console called the "X-Box 360". It's an amazingly versatile machine: you can set it down normally, or you can lift it up and put it on its side. Find me a woman that does that!


Lonely Hearts Update

April 21st 2009

I'm sad to say that my foray into online lonely hearts hasn't gotten off to a great start. On my first date things were going well until I accidentally killed her while demonstrating a fancy way to slice a melon. The rest of the night was just disastrously awkward, as you can imagine. After I disposed of the corpse in a furnace at the local rubber factory, I went home and had a good cry. But I'm still hopeful that one day I will find "The One"!


What is the opposite of perfect?

March 30th 2009

The only one available seems to be imperfect which IRONICALLY!! is not quite right. Imperfect just means 'not perfect' and is basically synonymous with 'flawed'. That could describe something that is nearly perfect with a few drawbacks. What's needed in today's modern world is the actual binary opposite of perfect.

True antonyms are gradable opposites. They should be at alternate ends of a spectrum, like black/white, rich/poor. If perfect means 'completely right in every conceivable way', then the proper gradable opposite ought to be 'completely wrong in every conceivable way'. Why isn't there a word for that?

There are plenty of words for 'really bad': abysmal, atrocious, awful. But none has the perfection of a true antonym to perfect, something that says 'this is an absolute and total failure in every conceivable respect'.

I have searched far and wide but I can't find a word that encapsulates this sense of something being the true opposite of perfect, being the most shit thing that fails utterly and has no positive aspects whatsoever.

It's a most curious omission from the English language, as I can think of so many day-to-day situations in which I would be able to use the word. In fact the whole idea just came to me spontaneously today, while I was filling out my profile page on a lonely hearts website.


Bumblebee

March 18th 2009

Today I came out of my house and there was a large bumblebee sitting on the ground directly in the middle of the path out of my house. Not wanting to disturb the bumblebee, I carefully stepped around the outside of the path and went on my way.

Later, I returned home to find the bumblebee still sitting on the path in exactly the same place. It would appear that the bumblebee is dead!


Vlad Mother Fucker

March 15th 2009

I was reading today about Vlad the Impaler, aka Vlad Dracula. Not a book or anything, just his Wikipedia page. He was quite the evil one:

"The atrocities committed by Vlad in the German stories include impaling, torturing, burning, skinning, roasting, and boiling people, feeding people the flesh of their friends or relatives, cutting off limbs, drowning, and nailing people's hats to their heads."

Nailing people's hats to their heads! I'm sorry but that is just a bit much. Those poor people would be unable to greet anyone without being considered rude.

I have some sympathy for Vlad though, as he seems to have been a victim of the most audacious 'dirty sanchez' in history:


:((((((((

March 10th 2009

I haven't been in high spirits lately, I don't really want to get into the reasons why, oh ok I'll tell you it's because I spilled boiling water on my cock.


Further Developments! (re: slugs)

February 27th 2009

My encounter with the slug masquerading as a piece of aubergine on the night of February 15th was a powerfully affecting experience that made me say "Oh!" and put my hands on my cheeks much like Michael Douglas in the film Home Alone.

But little did I know, as I tossed the slug into the garden that night, that the story was far from over.

The following night I again came downstairs at about 4am to get a drink. As I made my way across the kitchen I suddenly felt that familiar wet smoosh under my foot. The blasted slug had returned!

This time I wasn't going to be taken in by his old aubergine ruse. I picked him right up and tossed him back out into the garden, shouting after him:

"Don't come back silly slug!"

But come back he did. The next night, and the night after, and the night after that.

Every night I would pick up the slug - which is every bit as unpleasant as it sounds - and I would throw him outside. And each night, I would find him back in the kitchen, slithering brazenly across the tiles.

What did he want? Why did he keep coming into my house at night?

My personal theory is that he wanted to get to the living room, so that he could watch TV (to check the weather forecast).

Finally I decided I'd had enough of Michael Sluglas (which is what his name was). I picked him up and - mustering all my strength - threw him high into the air, up and over into the neighbour's garden. Let them deal with this pesky slug, I thought to myself.

But my plan backfired disastrously. The next night I came down to find not one but TWO slugs on my kitchen floor. Not only had Michael Sluglas returned, but he'd brought a friend along from next door*.

Since I was now outnumbered I could do nothing but return to my bedroom and wait for them to go away.

* This other slug was called David Slug.

While hiding in my bedroom I wrote this poem about the whole experience:


I found a slug on my kitchen floor,
I threw him out,
and that caused more.

I found two slugs on my kitchen floor,
they slithered around,
and did a tour.


News!

February 16th 2009

I finally found my password! And not a moment too soon, because I have some big news to report.

Last night, at about 4am, I went down to the kitchen to get a drink. I went up to the sink and felt something wet under my foot - there was a piece of aubergine on the floor.

'Aubergine' is the British word for the vegetable known as 'eggplant' in North America. It is also sometimes known as 'brinjal' which is probably Indian in origin. All three names are excellent in their own way, each of them uniquely capturing the revolting nature of the vegetable.

Imagine my surprise when the aubergine unfurled itself and began slithering across the tiles. It turned out it was not aubergine, eggplant or brinjal, but in fact, a slug.

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