A Fiverr Request

With some spare change burning in my pocket, I decided to peruse the services over at Fiverr to see what bullshit I could spend it on. I came across this guy who designs esports logos which look pretty sweet:

I decided to message him a request that could challenge his illustration skills:

Stay tuned for his response! Let's get crackin'!

The ProofrEADJer: Late April Edition

Yet Even More Perks of the AMC Stubs Rewards Card

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Spotted On a "Learn Sign Language" Box Label

Now I'm not an animal behavior expert, but I'm pretty sure -based on that cat's body language- that it's either going to dart out of there or scratch that girl's eyes out in self defense.

Here Are The Types of Things I Say When A Public Restroom's Paper Towel Dispenser Doesn't Work

"Fuck."

"Shit."

"Come on."

"Fuckin' thing."

"Ay moroni."

"Horsefeathers."

"What the..."

"MOTHERFUCKER."

"Oh cock."

"Jitters vagina."

"#papertoweldispensernotworking"

"BUT I NEED TO DRY MY HANDS!!!!"

"Bugger."

"Fuckjoy."

"Uy uy uy uy uy uy uy."

"Estelle Getty."

"WORK, YOU!"

The True Identity of The World's Greatest Detective.

So I was reading comics at work, and I stumble upon the "making of" section in the back of Alex Ross' book "The World's Greatest Super-Heroes."


Btw, Alex Ross is this awesome artist who paints realistic comics using gouache and watercolor brushes, but he often uses photo reference to really capture realistic poses.


So in one section, I recognize the name of a storyboard artist I used to work with when I worked at Unnamed Organization in Chicago. Matt had actually gone by the nickname "Nightcrawler," because he often drew TV storyboards for us late at night.


So, all this time, I was essentially asking Bruce Wayne to draw frames for Ore-Ida Krinkle-Cut Microwave French Fries. And instead of snapping my neck or subduing me with a well-thrown batarang, Matt just drew happy people holding bullshit packaging. I feel horrible now.

I also feel foolish that instead of calling his landline, I could have just turned on a flashlight and pointed it at the sky.


He watches over the city, a grim soul fighting a relentless war on crime. By day, a multi-billionaire playboy. By night, a dark knight cloaked in shadows, preying on the forces of evil. Unless, of course, you have some storyboard work you need done overnight. He'll send some pencil sketches to you first, then if you like, he'll ink them in and color them in time for the presentation.

BAM! KAPOW! PIFF!

Spotted in the Entertainment Earth catalog (don't judge), a pair of Bat-Cuffs that aren't authentic enough:



Would-be bat vigilantes are advised that attempting to use these to apprehend the Joker's goons will result in pretty quick death.

And kinky Catwoman S&M fetishists will find that they aren't totally in control of the situation after all. Rwaoooor!

Men who wish to dress up as Robin are asked to put on some goddamned pants, for crying out loud. Jesus.

An Open Letter To The Bathroom Attendant At Any Bar

Oh, hey. Wassup.

Yeah, I'm sort of surprised that you're here. I mean, this is a bar called Scalawag's, so I didn't expect white glove service in the pisser. I just came here to do my biz and go back to drinking.

Oh, thanks. I see you've turned on the faucet for me. Nice. That's some serious service there. Again, not the type of service I was expecting in this 5" x 5" bathroom with "TODD IS A NUTTSUKER" scrawled on the wall. Yeah, just gonna wash my hands real quick and... oh! A paper towel! You are handing me a paper towel that I could have grabbed from the dispenser myself?! Well, la-di-da, aren't we in fancy-pants land now. Look at me! It's like I'm at the Ritz! Oh, and look at the fine selection of sundry mints and candies in your basket! I can choose ANY of them? Even after other dudes have touched it shortly after touching their penises? Well, after all that service (and even a bit of chit chat) I feel compelled to throw a second dollar in your till. No, really. I feel COMPELLED.

Let's be honest here– this is possibly the definition of unnecessary. I understand you're trying to make an extra buck, but I will be goddamned if I have to tip you a dollar every time I come back here to wee-wee. You're not here at 3pm, so why should I tip you for working here at 9pm? And I'm not going to try that "give-you-a-twenty-so-I-can-come-back-as-many-times-without-tipping" trick, because I know for a fact that you always pretend to forget who I am.

You know, I'll go so far as to say you're actually a health hazard. Yes, that's right. I've seen quite a few guys avoid eye contact with you and NOT wash their hands just so they don't have to throw you a buck. Sure, they are cheap and disgusting, but I think any forthcoming listeriosis outbreaks will be on your conscience, my friend.

Can we make a rule of thumb here? Anytime a bar doesn't have tablecloths on the tables and pheasant under glass, you don't have to stand at the sink in that bathroom. Then I don't have to feel bad about letting out a loud clap of a fart whenever I'm at the urinal. Deal, champ? Sweet.

Good talk.

Let's Fan Our Burp Towards the EADJ Mail Sack While It's Eating!

Submitted by Beth via IM:

Bruce Wayne, Vigilante Pun Cop

It is a heavy burden I carry to watch over this city. So many criminals and vicious lowlifes who could care less about its people. All of the equipment and skill that I've developed to fight this scum, sometimes I wonder if it's all worth it. And this Punster. He's a clever individual. But with a sick mind. He thinks he's getting away with these awful puns all over town, but I'm bound to catch him soon. He leaves no clues like a playing card or a coin. Just evidence of his evil wordplay.


11:20 pm. Gotham Central Station
The Punster leaves wreckage all along the walkway. Terrible plays on the word "ogre" that don't even come close. So many helpless victims. I know he's watching me, laughing.




1:47 am.
Poor Heidi. A beautiful woman, just sullied mercilessly with the Punster's games. Such talent wasted on a tenuous tie-in between fashion and milk. I can barely watch as the Gotham County Morgue shuts the drawer.


2:24 am. Staples Store.
I burst in through a skylight when I see some activity in the darkened storefront. But he escapes the back way.


At least I managed to stop the Punster before he could add "Santa Claws" to his list of crimes. I'm getting closer.

2:48 am. Newsstand on 48th.
Okay, now he's toying with me. He knows I'm hot on his trail, but he sits and waits in the dark. My night vision turns up nothing. But I know he's close. My batarangs want action.


2:50 am.
I jump into the Batmobile and head east towards the tunnel. I must find the source of all of the Punster's power to stop him. My tires screech on the pavement as I spot this at a donut shop:


Gotham is MINE, Punster! I pound my gloved fist on the steering wheel (shaped like a bat, btw).

3:18 am.
The closer I get, the worse the puns get. My carbon fiber armor can take only so much. The Punster is #$%^& relentless.



3:37. Showdown.
I finally find the Punster's hideout. I laugh when I realize it's been under my nose all along over by the reservoir. That Kenneth Cole store has been a source of bad puns for years!



I send two bat smokebombs through the front window, forcing the Punster out of his hole. He's just a man with a pen and some lint in his pockets. My tow cable stops his mad dash for the sewer. He laughs maniacally as I tie him to a streetlight and call Gotham's finest. "You and I are not that different, Batman," he says through his dark yellow grin. "Dark Knight is kind of a pun when you think about it!" Luckily, I don't think about it and knock him out with my batfist. Shit, I think I broke a batnail.

Pop Quiz

One is a public bathroom at an Exxon station on the New Jersey Turnpike. The other is a bathroom at an office building at an advertising agency in Manhattan. Which would you rather use?

That Ain't Right.

(pictured above, something is seriously amiss about this activity book— click to enlarge)

Joe Nudelman. A Fond Remembrance.

Pictured above, Joe Nudelman (don't laugh) in a moment of repose. This reminds me of an old 1961 George Tames photo of JFK: