Sooooooo how are you adorable blog-going bastards you doing today? Fantastic! How am I? Well thank you for asking (or more accurately thank me for asking for you. So thank you Matt. Oh you're quite welcome my lad--how're the kids? Funny you should ask--Finster adores the metric system and Hortence is celibate--you know, small hands, smells like cabbagood gawsh no the multiple personalities have returned. Oh well. I guess it's suicide again for me. But which personality should I kill off today? Ooh! How about the Skipper! Then I can stop wearing that dumb hat, pipe, and blazer combo. Okay, so let me just attach this thumbtack to this q-tip, insert, and ho ho! No more marina galas for me! Ow. How come every time I lose a personality I also lose the hearing in one ear? Bluh.)
So by now you must be thinking, "Hey. Uncle Presidente, the friendly dictator. Emphasis on 'uncle' now that your sister is totally preggers (congratulations again by the way). Isn't this blog called World Domination Weekly? So where ya hiding the domination at?" Well, yes, it's true. This blog was created in part to detail my exploits in global conquest so you can prepare yourself for when my world tour comes to your area to deliciously enslave you in my empire the Pretzel-Wagon way. But there's a reason why you haven't had any updates for awhile: things haven't been going the Osgood-way out there equator-conquering style.
For example, I was genetically engineering mollusks for the NASCAR circuit (as part of a conspiracy so complex I won't even begin to tell you why I was doing this) but one of my henchterns (intern henchman--I know, I know, what a cute word! My mom came up with it!) left them out in the sun destroying the whole batch and taking us back to formula. And don't even get me started on those fart-fueled neutrino jet packs. Gawd. Those things were like the biggest failure since Mussolini. Or all those Three's Company spin-offs. And then of course the world market will have to go without my patented invention of "bottled panther" since the rainforest pygmies have rebelled, raspberried, and utterly run me out of my South American operations on that one. It was crazy. They tied these sharpened rocks to the ends of wooden staffs in some primitive, makeshift devices they called "sbears" and threw them at me. Threw them at me! I had never seen anything like it! I went back after a month after the heat had died down but instead of calling me "Lord Pasty" they called me "Cowboy Ruth" and stole my pants. Granted, they were only Old Navy cargo pants left over from that carefree spring break I ran that cider mill (ran it off a cliff, actually, due to a staff made entirely out of lemmings during menstrual season. But hey, that's why pencils have erasers, right?), but needless to say, I WON'T be going back there again.
And Garrett, Eren, warm-up your hugging arms 'cause here comes new Aphrodite art!!!!!! Since I've posted so infrequently as of frequent, I'm putting up everyone's favorite monkey-wristed, woman-assed pseudo-duo Shade and Mr. Jangles; not to mention the ginchiest three-chested gerbil-legged projectile-vomiting blue supervillain Virgil Ruggiero; and head concepts for the evilly electrical chrome-guy Zip Oswald!
And don't blank everyone--swing by Booth 1032 and say "Hi there!" at Con! (And buy a Hard 8 book too!)
"All great and precious things are lonely." --John Steinbeck