A review of the book by a penguin. (Scroll down.)
A totally real interview that totally was with two people with yours truly. (Click on the "Features" tab)
An in-depth roundtable with some of my subjects. (Suck it, David Gregory.)
Hopefully all will be back to normal next week. And don't forget to email me your photos.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Jesus Christ, Australia. What. The. Fuck. I know I've made fun of you for your koala rampages, your lax marsupial drug policies, and your animal-related holidays, but now it's pretty clear you were asking for it all along. You see, this is a brushtailed possum, caught in the act of eating a cookie in the backyard of an Australian residence. This possum sucks, obviously, and believe me there's no way I'm letting him get away with that pink nose and his little possum fingers. But, ummmm, Australia? WHY ARE YOU PUTTING COOKIES IN YOUR BACKYARDS? This is a classic case of Stockholm Syndrome, where Australians are the victims held captive by their kidnappers (mostly kangaroos desperate for another dime bag) and now they have fallen in love with the very animals that mean them harm.
But Possum, really? I don't care if they left out cookies for you. You take them home and eat them on your couch while you watch TV or something. You don't just stand there in the dark eating cookies, Possum. Not only is that fucking weird and a small step above wearing sweat pants to work, it's basically asking for someone to come along and take a picture of you looking surprised, which is exactly how this ended up. So go ahead, eat your cookies. But leave me out of it, Possum, I don't need to see any of what's going on here.
Posted by bza at 12:32 PM
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
You want a piece of me, Hyrax? I will fucking destroy you. Oh, your closest living relative is the elephant? An animal that is afraid of a mouse? Well guess what, pussy, I share a bunch of DNA with the chimpanzee. They don't even get mad, they store that shit in their heads and make a plan, Hyrax. And then they fucking play for keeps. Just like me, Hyrax. Just like me.
So you think I'm afraid of your vampire teeth and poorly developed internal temperature regulation? No fucking way, Hyrax. So get a couple of your buddies, a makeshift knife, and some pillowcases and meet me in fifteen minutes. Because it's fucking on, Hyrax. Oghadisthatababyonyou? And another one? How come they look so creepy and yet so disgustingly cute? WHAT DO THEY KNOW THAT I DON'T KNOW. Oh, no. THEY ARE MULTIPLYING.
You win this round, Hyrax. You can have my apple. Just don't let them bring western civilization to its knees.
Posted by bza at 5:26 AM
Friday, September 11, 2009
Great, I didn't even know the bilby existed and already it has a fucking national day in Australia. Way to go Australia, I guess it wasn't enough to make up half of your fauna while you were high (wtf the koala?), you had to follow it up by highlighting all of your biggest mistakes.
The worst part is this fucking tool is basically just a rat drawn by a New York sidewalk cartoonist. Having a pouch doesn't all of the sudden make everyone ignore the fact that you are standing like a bunny, peeking out of a tree like a squirrel, and puckering like a Grade A sleazebag, Bilby. AND WHAT HAVE I SAID ABOUT THE HEAD TILT. You know, Bilby, I'm only going to make ONE batch of sugar cookies in the shape of you in honor of your shitty day. That's not even going to be enough sugar cookies for everyone at the party that I'm throwing in your honor. So suck on that.
Posted by bza at 8:15 AM
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Not having normal arms and legs is no reason to avoid taking care of yourself, Sea Lion. The water is literally right there, would it have killed you to say to the photographer, "You know what? Hold on one second, I'm just going to wash off this sand that is covering my entire body." I'll tell you one thing, there's no way my dad would have let you in his car in 1989.
If you had just taken the time to make yourself halfway presentable, I wouldn't have such a serious problem with you. But instead, I want to hand wash all of the sand off of you and wrap you in a towel until you warm up. That is not fucking okay, Sea Lion. I have a reputation to uphold. So get your ass together, trim those fucking whiskers, and stop pretending like you're the king of the ocean just because you happen to be named after a lion. IT'S JUST A NAME, SEA LION, YOU HAVE TO LIVE YOUR OWN LIFE. You don't get to avoid pulling yourself up with your own bootstraps just because you wouldn't be able to wear boots.
Posted by bza at 10:46 AM
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
What is it about weird antelopes? Gerenuk, you are so adorable, yet so terrifying, like a Disney character that ends up torturing Bambi's mother while Bambi watches. You have a normal torso, but other than that I am creeped out by literally everything else about you.
It's the head that really gets me, though. You could have weirdly long legs, a bushy mohawk tail, a weirdly thin, long neck, and ears with pitchfork marks inside of them, and if you had a normal-sized head, I would be like, "Touché." But your head basically makes me want to write my congressman about starting a government agency to monitor your movements and make sure you haven't started any international money laundering networks to pay for your secret takeover of my brain. So just keep eating from that tree, hold your hooves where I can see them, and don't appear in any movies where you can talk in a funny voice, Gerenuk. I wouldn't want to have to do anything we'd both regret.
Posted by bza at 8:04 AM