is honk a slang term for a shot or a brand new unit of alcohol? i would totally buy a honk glass regardless.

I know at least two people like Ray. they can pick up a banjo and be good at it, and basically anything else, but when you have to fill up in a ruff area of town, they make it a bigger problem. involving many onlookers

I like to think that Ray's reading started off with him making airquotes as he spoke the title. Then he said 'Copyright Ray Smuckles, 2005' aloud before the first line.

Beef gets his sass on in panel two.

The italics give it a sinister air.

Beef will not be castigated.

I am puzzled. I do not yet understand beef's fixation with concealed weapons in food

I think Beef has an eating disorder. He doesn't really like meals and often forgets to eat. Poor kitty.

He, Roast Beef, does not like life.

"Hot Dogs"
by R. Beef Kazenzakis

A hot dog is whipped meat
the skin yields a snap.
The flavor unmistakable
the condiments eternal.

Ketchup, mustard,
ground onions and kraut,
pepperoncini, tomato,
all flavor the snout.

But inside the foodstuff
a hidden ink pen
single-shot .45 Magnum
hidden in the pen.

OH SHIIIIIIIT

my car has been shot

The slice is his mouth, so being down at the corners of your slice means you are frowning.

"Dogg do not castigate me" is equal or almost equal to "Dogg don't piss on me I just invented photoshop" in it's hilarity.

I always figured beefs poetry is because his grandma always told him everything was gonna make him die, like how he was scared to go in a lake in case there was an earthquake. So he writes about how a pepper mill has been fashioned into an explosive device.

I had to sit through something like this once at a performance art gallery. Some asshat in a yellow bedsheet read about colors while a dude played a guitar with a cello bow. They had free beer though, and I wound up double fisting lager through the whole thing and started quietly beatboxing along to the song myself and didn't notice until I realized how mad everyone else in the bleachers looked.

Good times.

dude i love to beatbox

nobody around me EVER loves that i beatbox

HOW COME

That is insane. I will insult the system to draw attention from my ignorance.

and then Ophelia and the Lady of Shalott giggle as they talk smack about you at lunch.

Weekend Blogs

Ray: Treasure.

Today's Blogs

Philippe: I think a person died!
Onstad: [urlhttp://chrisonstad.blogspot.com/2005/04/first-words.html]First words[/url]

Aw LAME

Onstad: First words

Land where my fathers died,
Land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountain side,
Let freedom ring.

My car has been shot.

So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

But not today.

My car has been shot.