But now I have a lot of little kids who watched Invader Zim whenever they could find it on television.

Witty closing remarks have been replaced by massive head trauma and severe hemorrhaging.

Dear Die-ary, today I stuffed some dolls full of dead rats I put in the blender. I'm wondering if, maybe, there really is something wrong with me.

Nothing quite brings out the zest for life in a person like the thought of their impending death.

It's a frightening world to be alone in.

I don't particularly dislike any kind of person that might be reading my stuff. They like it and that's cool, but I don't do the work for any kind of group in particular, except for hobos, who just plain kick ass and light up my life.

All the power to them but I'm not interested in making yet another show that looks like some other show.