From the Desk of Mr. Zissman

The musings of an over-stimulated mind

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In honor of Bonnie and Lola and THE GIRL WHO WOULD BE KING we continue our 30 Days of Superheroines!

In honor of July 4th for you Americans (of which I am one) I’ve chosen the totally appropriate (but actually NOT appropriate since she’s not an American…WONDER WOMAN!

Obviously there is a nearly infinite amount of great Wonder Woman art out there…so I had to limit myself. Here are some of my favorites…

Via DeviantArt

Via DeviantArt

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Written by MrZissman

07/04/2012 at 8:27 PM

Posted in Random

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For those of you who’ve never been to this magical place, you are seriously missing out

Neil Zurcher's One Tank Trips

First off, the “Shelby Mall” is not a mall.  It is a huge surplus store.  You might say a surplus store on steroids. It is a place you can buy everything from a surplus 2 and a ½ ton military troop carrier to new decorations for your home.  There are aisles and aisles of parts for lawnmowers, automotive supplies, camping equipment, house wares, nuts, bolts, rope, garden supplies and, of course, military surplus.

Jennifer Arms, the owner’s daughter, laughs and says, “The real name is Glen’s Surplus, but our customers about ten of 15 years ago started calling it, “The Shelby Mall” and the name just sort of stuck. Lawnmowers are really our bread and butter.  About half of our business is lawnmower repair parts.” Jennifer says they have the parts for just about any lawnmower that was ever made.  In fact they have one room just dedicated to lawnmower…

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Written by MrZissman

05/01/2012 at 12:58 PM

Posted in Random

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Maybe Flanders is so cheerful cause he’s just tripping off crystal meth? Would make sense.

Steeshes - Mustaches and Miscellaneous

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Written by MrZissman

04/26/2012 at 3:02 PM

Posted in Random

The time has come to incept Jimmie Johnson

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Enough is enough! Jimmie Johnson has to be stopped.

For those of you who don’t know, allow me to provide a bit of back story.

This is Jimmie Johnson. He’s a NASCAR driver.

Look at that smug beard on his face

This is Jimmie Johnson’s car. It’s the #48 Lowe’s car


And these are the championships Jimmie Johnson has won with that car. Oh and I forgot to mention he’s won those consecutively. Yes, he is the NASCAR champion for five years running now and it’s time for him to stop.


How do you do this?


See, the idea came to me via watching the movie Inception for the umpteenth time. In it, Leo DiCaprio leads a team of experts who infiltrate the dreams of a business man to implant an idea of their own doing. This got me to thinking that such a technique could be possible and, if so, we would need the perfect team to invade the dreams of Jimmie Johnson and convince him he needs to retire.

Now in the movie, you need experts in certain abilities to perform inception and implant an idea into the subconscious of your target.

  • THE LEADER – This is the person calling the shots, the head honcho. Everyone listens to this person’s plan.
  • THE CHEMIST – Usually the person who concocts a sedative powerful enough to keep the target asleep and assures that they stay in a dream. If the target wakes up before the job is over, the team has to escape the rapidly collapsing dream lest they stay stuck in Limbo forever.
  • THE ARCHITECT – The designer of the artificial reality of the dream and all its levels. Environments, backgrounds, settings, all of these are created by the Architect to make sure the labyrinth of the dreamscape is created to allow for perfect execution of the plan.
  • THE FORGER – This person possesses a unique talent to alter their physical appearance and voice while in the dream. This is usually done to trick the dreamer into a false sense of security and making them comfortable with their surroundings. The key for inception is to make sure the dreamer never realizes they are actually in a dream.

So now we have our roles, but who will fill them? The Leader part is obvious and that would be me. I mean, why not? This whole scheme is my idea and I am, by far, the most qualified to lead it.

THE CHEMIST – My first thought was Charlie Sheen, because I am sure he would be an expert in all kinds of mind altering chemicals. But considering tiger blood would have the exact opposite effect of what I want, I am going to hire someone who is an expert in all things SCIENCE.


That’s right, Bill Nye the Science Guy. Think about it, this guy is a pimp and science is his hoe. He just pimp slaps science and is all like “DO WHAT I WANT, SCIENCE!” and science is like “OH NO, DON’T HIT ME AGAIN!” and it just works, ok?

THE ARCHITECT – For this role we’re going to need someone very creative, who is capable of thinking outside the box, but yet is an intelligent enough to know when to go big and when to keep things small.

Polka your eyes out

Yes, Weird Al. Dude has survived for years now and still stays just as fresh and relevant as he was when he first debuted. He has the intellectual credentials (he graduated from high school top of his class and a year early) AND graduated from college with a degree in architecture. Weird Al is perfect for this job.

THE FORGER – This one is going to be tough. You need someone who can cleverly disguise themselves and seemingly ‘become’ whatever role they are assigned. Now I thought about this long and hard and then it finally hit me. Johnny Depp.

He could make a man gay just by his stare. He's that sexy

This man has played everything from a talking lizard, a pirate, a legendary B-movie director, and that’s just scratching the surface.

Okay, now we have our team assembled. Now comes the hard part: getting inside the mind of Jimmie Johnson. Here is how the job goes down…

THE JOB: We wait till after a race, probably one he has won. Right before the drive to the next track, we sneak on the bus pretending to be members of his crew. Obviously fatigued after a grueling race, we’d offer Jimmie a drink. Except the drink we offer would be spiked with the powerful sedative created by Bill Nye, thereby luring Jimmie into a deep, deep sleep and allowing us to enter his dreams.

Now the key to a proper inception is leaving no trace behind. The mind works a lot like the rest of the body and is programmed to reject anything foreign that has been put into it. For example, if I tell you to not think about elephants, what are you going to think about? Exactly, you’re going to think about elephants. So this job would need us to go deep into the subconscious, to essentially go within a dream that is within a dream that is within a dream. At that layer, the mind is easily susceptible to suggestion.

1ST DREAM: Now that we are in Jimmie’s dream, we will use Weird Al’s creative talents to create a dreamscape. In this dream, Jimmie has just won a race, thereby securing his sixth consecutive championship. As he climbs his car to look into the stands, he sees his legions of fans cheering for him, except a good chunk of them have very sour expressions on their faces. It’s far from the usual waves of applauding fans he is used to, that’s for sure.

Now slightly confused, he would walk his way back to his bus, when he would “accidentally” get hit by a massive tool box, thereby severely injuring him, but not killing him. (If you die in a dream, you wake up, so we have to avoid that for now.) Now our team, this time disguised as EMTs, rush in to take him in for medical services. Except instead of medical services, he’s sedated (less powerful this time, a weaker mix) and hooked up to a dream generated by Weird Al.

2nd DREAM: Now within a dream within a dream, we’re back at the same racetrack and Jimmie has just won his seventeenth championship in a row. By this time his fans are few and far in between, most of them looking depressed and withdrawn. The fans that are in the stands continue to boo him with heated displeasure, throwing cans, hotdogs, rocks, popcorn and other debris at him. It’s at this time his team-mate Dale Earnhardt Jr (actually a disguised Johnny Depp) convinces Jimmie to blow off some steam and come with him to the press box to answer a few questions. Along the way, Depp-Junior makes casual conversation about how Jimmie’s fans are dwindling in number and how they don’t seem to be as supportive as they usually are.

“You…you really think so?” Jimmie would say.

“Yeah, I do,” Depp-Junior would reply. “Ever since you started winning all those races, your fans really got bored, ya know? They didn’t seem to mind you winning as long as it was entertaining, but when you kept up those championship runs, people just got kinda bored, man.”

Jimmie wouldn’t say anything initially, just sort of nod quietly as he stepped on to the press trailer. Once in there, he would be told by a reporter, in reality Bill Nye, that this interview is a streaming webcast, so we need to hook up to brand new Web 2.0 technology to live-cast the interview. In reality, the technology is not for web-casting, but actually another device for dreaming. This time the dream is generated by me, so Jimmie has now entered the third and final dream. This one is crucial as everything we’ve been building up to hinges on this.

3rd DREAM – This time it’s even further in the future, at Jimmie’s induction into the NASCAR Hall of Fame.  Dale Earnhardt III is presenting the induction, giving a passionate speech about how Jimmie would go on to win twenty-one consecutive championships, yet lost almost his entire fan base. By the time he won his last championship, his sponsor Lowe’s had dropped him, so his sponsor was reduced to Big Joe’s Bait and Tackle of Grass Lakes, Iowa. His wife left him, he was broke and penniless and only managed to pay for his car by being Bill Elliot’s butler. He died miserable, depressed and alone and all because he won so many championships.

Devastated, Jimmie would fall to his knees heartbroken as Depp, this time disguised as the Ghost of Daryl Waltrip, approaches him to offer some advice.

“Tough luck, ain’t it?” Depp-W would say.

“Why? Oh god, why?” Jimmie would cry. Depp-W would just shake his head.

“It’s a shame, JJ. To think, all of this could have been prevented if you just gave up. If you had retired and stopped at five, this would have never happened. Guess it’s too late now, huh?”

Now at this point we have to wake everyone up, and this is done with a “kick.” In the world of Inception, a “kick” is a method to wake someone up from a dream. It could be as simple as jolting the sleeping person, dunking them in a tub of water, or actually killing them in the dream. In this case, we would wake Jimmie up from the third dream by having a crazed Dick Trickle fan, actually Weird Al, running up to him while screaming “You killed his career!” and planting a well-timed .45 slug in Jimmie’s forehead. Instantly Jimmie would wake up to find himself on the press bus, of which a heart-broken fan kicks down the door yelling “You ruined me! I used to love you!” and swings a mighty axe at Jimmie, “killing” him in the second dream, causing him to wake up in the first dream. Now in the ER, the doctor pulls off his scrubs to show a Jeff Gordon shirt and smothers the injured Jimmie with a pillow, waking him up to the real world.

Jimmie would startle in a mess of confusion, now on his bus as it runs down a dark and lonely road.  He would vividly remember all three dreams, feeling the tug on his heart-strings about what he had experienced. Dejected, he would call the President of NASCAR the next morning and announce he is retiring from racing forever.

And that, my friends, is how we make sure Jimmie Johnson never wins another NASCAR championship again. I know it sounds far-fetched, and I don’t blame you for being skeptical. But I believe this can be done. Racing may be his life, but if Inception has taught me anything, it’s that life is but a dream.

Written by MrZissman

03/06/2011 at 10:29 PM

Taste you can believe in

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Today I received a phone call from a phone number with a 202 area code. My cell phone’s caller ID not only shows me the number, but what city the caller is from as well. This one, apparently, happened to be Washington D.C. and after doing a quick Google search, I discovered it was a scam meant to rip of college students.

Needless to say, this broke my heart. Seeing a phone number from Washington D.C. made me think my homie B-Rock “The Islāmic Shock” Obama was calling me to invite me over for a beer. (I did vote for him, so he at least owes me that.) But no, it was some slimy ass scum bag scammers. And besides, I don’t drink beer and would probably ask B-Rock to bring me a Pepsi instead.

But this got me to thinking….Pepsi would be a wonderful way for B-Rock to stimulate the economy! Simply take all the money used for bailouts and Cash For Clunkers and instead build several big-ass Pepsi factories in states hit hardest by the recession. (ex: Ohio, Michigan, California, etc.) And all these Pepsi factories will only make Pepsi Blue, Pepsi Throwback and Crystal Pepsi. These brands ONLY.

Next I thought me and B-Rock could just split a 24-party pack, but then people would accuse him of being a dictator. So then I thought we would split some of it with random peeps in D.C., but then people would think he’s a Socialist! UGH. So I figured let’s go all capitalist on this and CHARGE people! You’d have to hire people to build the factories, and then hire people to work in them, and distribute them to the country. People collect a paycheck, they spend their money, money goes back into the economy.

Plus, this works out cause I miss Pepsi Blue and Crystal Pepsi and Pepsi Throwback should be a 24/7 brand, not some random seasonal crap. We could even get Sammy Hager to come out of retirement and sing “Right Now” to a Pepsi commercial.




So Obama, if some chance you happen to stumble across my blog, PLEASE give me a call and let’s do this, man. We can do this, home skillet. It is a taste that I believe in.

Written by MrZissman

08/18/2009 at 12:55 AM


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[The commercial fades into a black and white shot of two prepubescent boys lounging around in a living room looking bored]

BILLY MAYS: Billy Mays here to tell you about the wonderful world of CORNHOLING! Tired of the same old, same old? Do X-Box games leave you drooling in a fit of near comatose boredom? Then try CORNHOLE! The game where you stand and throw bean bags!

[end commercial]

I love the fact they named the dog MATHMAN. MATHMAN! MATHMAN! MATHMAN!

I love the fact they named the dog MATHMAN. MATHMAN! MATHMAN! MATHMAN!

For those of you who grow up in the corn-fed midwest such as myself, you’ve probably been introduced to the game of Cornhole and all the glories it has. I can pretty much guarantee that for any family function I attend, someone is going to bring the cornhole boards.

Easter? Cornhole with Jesus!

Thanksgiving? Cornhole with the Pilgrims!

Christmas? Cornhole with Santa!

For those of you who’ve never played Cornhole, it’s kinda like horseshoes. Except replace the metal poles with angled, wooden boards with a hole cut in them, and replace the horse shoes themselves with bean bags. Divide it up into two teams of two and the first one to 21 points wins. I’m not going to take the time to explain the more detailed rules about scoring, but you are more than welcome to read the Wikipedia article, if you so feel inclined.

The thing about Cornhole is, and maybe I’m just too much of a tech geek, but I never understood the draw or attraction of this game. True, I’m not much of an athlete, but I can understand the attraction of football or baseball, sports where people actually move. It just seems like watching paint dry watching middle-aged guys throw bean bags all day.

This doesn’t help me feel any less  separated from my family, both immediate and extended. It’s not a feeling of being unloved, because I know they all care for me deeply, but I feel like I have no common ground with them. I’d rather be knee-deep in zombie gore mayhem playing LEFT 4 DEAD or swinging around Manhattan as Spider-Man on my PS2.

I guess in the long run, variety is the spice of life and I should learn to appreciate my differences. After all, I can only imagine how my family must feel when I start to geek out and explain proper zombie survival techniques. (Shoot them in the head, btw.) or attempting to explain to them the different sides of the Force. Besides, someone needs to be the Official Family Tech Support.

So if you do play cornhole, more power to ya, man. If you get excited about such game-play and find yourself wanting more, who am I stop to you? Enjoy your game, even if it does sound vaguely homo-erotic. I’ll just be over here loading up my auto-shotgun and saving the world from zombies.

Written by MrZissman

08/17/2009 at 12:49 AM

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