“Froge, get your punk ass to work.”
Why can’t I spend the day in bed reading?
“Froge.”
Mate.
“Froggy.”
Matey.
“Frosch.”
Fine.
Once again your boy Froge is suffering from the morning blues, living off nothing more than three eggs, four sausages, two hundred grams of salad, and a litre of water. It’s a lean breakfast, I know, but what do you expect from somebody who only got twelve hours of sleep?
I blame that dream I had where I was a school shooter, but I could only get an assault rifle if I was wearing an army cap along with the suspicious bandana and shades I came to school with. And the once I got my rifle, it only fired foam darts until I got it blessed with electricity. So then I summoned a monochromatic figure straight out of an eighth year creepypasta, and he offered to kill everyone for me. Then I woke up, went back to sleep, and dreamt myself watching Ice Age 5. Anyway, that’s why I don’t tell my friends about my dreams anymore.
My advice from the autism flag about writing down your dreams in incredible detail is a bit messed up in practice, as when you wake up from a dream you’re naturally as lazy as your fat dog (who I will call my dickhund thanks to the beauty of German), and even earning the strength to let go of your cutie–poot stuffed toys and put pen to paper is an effort matched by Heracles’ cleaning of the Augean stables, although as history will note it was actually the river.
And then when I do wake up and write down what I remember, it ends up being something like “horror game where the only enemy is a small mouse,” or “world war 3 commercial with a medic eating peanut butter,” which you think are incredible ideas at 23:00 and yet at 08:00 you realise are actually awful. For one, Slenderman already exists, and two, I’d rather smell piss than peanut butter.
Anyway, my conflicting desires to update this on time, gawk at furry porn, and knock off and go to bed were resolved all neatly into this piece by BrasioPkmn, which is sadly unrepresentative of the rest of their work and who has been having an emotional breakdown for the past month. What a bitch! Not you, Brasio, just the idea that despite living with our emotions for our entire lives, they end up controlling us more than we do them. Unintuitive bit of design on evolution’s part.
Bless you, Nintendo. You’re a piece of shit company who’s been coasting on their reputation for the past five years instead of making any actual innovations, but you sure make some cute Pokémon. Which Sun and Moon starter did you fall in love with? The dignified owl, the innocent seal, or the yiffbait cat? Well, you know what they say: owls and seals are good for a quickie, but at the end of the day, a cat is fine, too…
(and despite the inference of the artist, Nintendo doesn’t own their characters any more than NASA owns the sun. any creation made for the public belongs to the public; this is the fundamental principle of art)
I can’t explain why, but the fanart of this water–horse has been consistently excellent and sincere; excellent in that the artists don’t appear to be cynically pumping out work for the sake of popularity, and sincere in that each piece appears to represent who they are. I’m happy for that — I really am. A man gets so tired of seeing the same uninspired artwork of buff furries getting dicked down that being able to indulge in something innocent for once is like going from the hell of Alberta and moving into Nunavut. At least, until you turn off safe mode and the seals come at you like ants.
The art itself, representing Queen Elizabeth 2, was okay to edit. It once again suffered from — visible shuddering — antialiasing, but nothing particularly tricky, and was taken care of with smart use of the global fill function. I find myself editing artist’s work less and less nowadays, perhaps because I was smart enough to pick pieces that didn’t require much work at all, but then that’s just a blind guess as to what needs what. I hope one day all artists come to terms with the glorious aliasing art style, and create a new era in small data. And while I’m at it, world peace.
You’d think I’d use this entry number to make a shitty “rule 34” pun. Well, I’m just not that type of person. You’ll just have to make do with the other 34 entries where I talk about porn.
“Don’t you mean 33?”
Get out.
Date: 2017–03–11. Size: 8,028 bytes. Colours: 8.
Upscaled Dimensions: 350×550. Original Dimensions: 350×550.