All I can say is it’s about fucking time unicorns got what they deserved. Year after year, they show up in fantasy art looking all mystical and glittery. Granting wishes. Spearing things. Peeing on your grandma’s corpse. Kicking babies. Stealing your underpants… Wait a second, that’s not unicorns. That’s me!!!

via Jame “No Joke” Hoke

I like this quilt because I like horses. Of course, I prefer them in the form of a gluestick, but that’s just because I’m a total bitch.

This Monster Party looks like a total snooze-fest. Lemme guess: you’re playing Band of Horses songs on that fucking ukulele. I love a Monster Party as much as the next guy, but I prefer loads of booze, a medicine cabinet full of pills, and some drunk nineteen-year-old monster slut flashing her multiple set of tits.

I knew that stable hand who kept twirling his handlebar mustache and melting my clocks was suspicious. That’s the last time I let Dali groom my pony. Ha ha. Ha? Does anyone remember how awesome it was to read Black Beauty?

Maybe these pillows wouldn’t be on sale if this asshole knew how to embroider a dog. Seriously, did a stroke victim stitch this?

There are three bears in this bowl and one cougar at my desk. Seriously, lock up your ‘tweens. This kitty cat is on the prowl…statutory rape style.

True: Cats love pita pockets.

False: They love you.

Untimely, but true: Rats make poops in your Kix.

Dateline, My Butt. The Chilean earthquake altered the axis of the Earth and  slowed time. But, breaking news, the value of a picture has changed and brought world-wide financial markets to a standstill. The picture-to-word ratio has plummeted from 1:1000 down to 1:140 over the course of the time it took someone to create The Museum of Tweets. No, not 140 words. But 140 characters.

That’s right. Filling your 401k with the scribbled drawings of  your toddlers was a bad move, as was allowing your employer to pay you in doodled-up napkins. You should have taken the empty gum wrappers and chewed shoelace ends like I did. Now if you’ll pardon my running off, I have a money-diving appointment with Scrooge MacDuck over in the natatorium.

If my under things turned into adorable, wayward sea creatures like in this illustration by Agata Nowicka,  that would be a pretty great day. Except that I would have no underwear and I think they might clog up my shower drain. I wonder if that big red one used to be her period panties?

On the off chance you forgot your “readers,” this nifty print reads, “I dislike most things.” A fitting thing for a rhinoceros to say since the rhinoceros is the grumpiest of all the grumpy animals – grumpier than a spider being eaten by wasp larvae and even grumpier than my dog, Billie, who is a real bitch. What’s really comforting about this whole grumpy animal thing is that, at some point, evolution selected the grumpiness gene as one that would ensure survival. So, grumpiness equals evolutionary superiority. Which means, not only am I the pinnacle of God’s regular old 7-day creation. I’m at the forefront of the sciency one as well.