1-900-HOTDOG
It was 3am and I heard a loud knock at my door. “Finally: karate,” I thought. But my door opened only to an empty and unfamiliar street. “Darkness, this is not where I live,” I told the wrong outside. As if to answer, an unmarked box sat on my porch, and inside was 132 copies of this book:
This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: John Dean, and his fabulous dummy, Dean John! Oh no, they’ve shuffled places. Which one is real, which one do we shoot??
Mascot Week ends here, the only way it ever could: VOLTO FROM MARS.
Volto From Mars was created in 1944, a rocket age champion of man’s imagination. He fell from the sky in soap, hunting the stars for cereal grains! And I’m not summing anything up; that’s his full origin story. This is how the world met Volto:
Volto’s people travel by exploding bubble, but the kind of exploding you can do next to a kid’s face. Children are best friends with professors, but the kind you go camping with. It’s the kind of bold storytelling that seems sarcastic today. He came from that direction and wants some fucking cereal. But okay, okay, fine. Volto knows you Earth monsters are going to have a few questions. Without being asked, he answers the most pressing one:
“SILENCE WHILE I EXPLAIN! ON MARS WE USE FOOD, AND I NEED THE FOOD FOR EATING! OKAY, WITH THE WEIRD STUFF OUT OF THE WAY, MY PEOPLE ARE ALSO MAGNET– OH, GOOD, YOU WERE ALREADY CARRYING A BOWL OF CEREAL.”
Volto finishes a bowl of Grape-Nuts Flakes, and thanks the Earthlings for recharging his magnetism. It sounds ordinary to you and me, but the professor’s keen intellect picked up on the multiple times this alien screamed about recharging his magnetism with cereal. He asks what the hell that could possibly mean, and we are introduced to the best part about Volto as a superhero: he is a full idiot and makes everything worse.
If you ask him, “What do you mean by magnetism?” he answers, “HOW SHOULD I EXPLAIN THIS? OH, I KNOW, WATCH ME PISS OFF THAT LION.”
I don’t know if this is normal on Mars, but Volto screams ‘VOLTO’ to infuriate wild animals, and Volto screams ‘VOLTO’ to pull children. Grape-Nuts Flakes could have sold cereal with a cute cowboy or a peppy train conductor, but instead they made this. What a perfect mascot. He needs your product to live and his adventures have three simple steps: shove it, yank it, forget it. He’s a magnet, but more like the idea of a magnet. To Volto, danger and cereal are the same word. Not philosophically, but because he is always confused. I love him, and we’re now going to look at every single ad he was ever in.
Volto would go on to have 19 more appearances across four different comic publishers, but the creators didn’t know that. So in his second appearance, they treated it like it might be his last. They raised the stakes to this: all possible things going wrong at once. A little girl is playing on a highway, about to be run over by a truck. An unmanned truck. An unmanned dynamite truck. It’s hopeless. Her only way out would be some kind of star man who attracts children with his right arm. Hold on, wait a minute.
You’ll notice Volto, the weirdest goddamn thing in our solar system, is always worried people will forget about him and his magnetic powers. Speaking of forgetting, the dynamite truck, Volto.
Speaking of forgetting, Volto’s magnetism! Be you truck or girl, remember it! This seems like an ordinary Martian punishing an abandoned dynamite truck with Grape-Nuts magnetism, but I think it’s important in understanding how his powers work. If I remember, Volto can attract and repel any material, but it seems like he must do both, one time each. Otherwise, I think even Volto would have thought to attract the dynamite truck to a stop rather than repel it into a farm and hope for the best. I mean, let’s take the boy’s word for it that this cargo truck of explosives didn’t kill ten cows and a family of thirty-five; this is still a decision you only make if your powers have strict rules. I know we have a lot to remember already, what with Volto’s left arm repelling and Volto’s right arm attracting, but it’s the closest thing Volto has to a weakness.
Speaking of forgetting, I remembered Volto’s other weakness. Once he uses his powers, he needs to recharge with Grape-Nuts Flakes immediately. So, lady, I’m glad you’re enjoying your lesson on Martian biomagnetism, but go get a bowl of cereal. Volto might die. And little girl, there’s no other lesson to take from this incident. Keep enjoying the highway with the energy you get from Grape-Nuts Flakes, the swellest cereal you’ve ever tasted!
There’s nowhere up to go from a DANGER EXPLOSIVES truck rolling into a child, so Grape-Nuts Flakes didn’t try. In his next adventure, Volto from Mars and his friends meet a purse snatcher. Admittedly, he’s pretty goddamn serious about it, but a mugger throwing a knife is the tutorial mission for a magnetic superhero. His lifeless body is being held up like a fish in Volto’s attract hand two panels later:
Like his magnetism, Volto’s confidence in his audience vanishes when he’s hungry. At the start of the comic, Volto’s like, “I’m from space, you get it.” But after a couple arm zaps, he’s like, “PLEASE REMEMBER, MY PEOPLE HAVE MAGNETIC POWERS, WHICH AGAIN, ARE RECHARGED WITH YOUR PLANET’S CEREAL. MY PLANET, OF COURSE, IS MARS IF I HAVEN’T MENTIONED IT, WHERE MAGNETISM IS COMMON AND ENCOURAGED, BUT REQUIRES GRAPE NU– SORRY, LET ME START AGAIN.”
“Jesus Christ, they know. Shut the fuck up, we’re trying to do a commercial,” interrupts the boy. He can’t work with this madman, and he’s already lost his mind with frustration. “THE CEREAL IS SIZZLING WITH VOLTO-ENERGY!” he shrieks at the reader, a legally actionable claim of magnetic powers he’ll have to retract next adventure. Speaking of, their next adventure sucks.
The boy and Professor have taken Volto on a South American jungle hike and a boa constrictor has wrapped itself around their pack mule, and this can’t be right… nothing else? The stakes are 43 cruzeiros of mule rental deposit? I’m here, from Earth, and I’m not sure what the crisis is. Volto is a visitor from the stars hearing the names of these moist shapes for the first time as he watches them make love, presumably as is their Earth custom. What is he expected to do? Watch a snake burst as it tries to swallow 800 pounds of donkey and 200 pounds of Grape-Nuts cargo? Intervene? Fucking how!? Space magnetism against a snake and mule fight? Can you hear yourself?
Wait, that’s really what he did? Volto’s repel arm uncoils boa constrictors and ignores mules? Even for 1944, this is desperate nonsense. “Nothing Detangles a Knot of Flesh Like Some Nerd Yelling About Magnets” sounds like a late entry in a Cracked article called “5 Things I Learned at an Insane Clown Posse Show.” It sounds like something Bill Nye’s wife would confide in a trusted friend. This writer was given the task of coming up with something exciting to defeat with magnets, with no limitations of scope or reason, and he came up with “Nearby Snake in the Caper of the Botched Mule Kidnapping.”
Oh no, the mule is frightened. My god, will this heart-pounding crisis ever slow down. Quick, Volto, do something to calm it down. Yes, that. Rip it into the sky with your animal-terror beam. Beautiful.
Because all the good men had left for Normandy, this script was approved and illustrated. Volto’s magnetism now canonically straightened snakes, pulled children, killed muggers, enraged cougars, and calmed donkeys. Also, it seems like Volto isn’t friends with these two people he’s always with? He interrupts the boy’s sales pitch to say, “VOLTO KNOWS WHAT GRAPE NUTS ARE, UNMAGNETED WORM, THEY’RE THE ONLY REASON VOLTO CAME ON THIS BULLSHIT TRIP.” The boy’s sales pitch, by the way, now clarifies “Grape-Nuts Flakes may not give you Volto’s magnetic power.” He’s also softened the description from “swellest cereal you’ve ever tasted” to “Tastes swell!”. It’s a cowardly admission by a browbeaten boy, which is why I’m giving this ad, “Untitled Snake One,” the lowest possible Volto From Mars score: The World Is a Little Less Magical Because of It out of 5.
Let’s do a good one!
Oh no! There’s a tree in the road! They’re going to be late for the train! Damn, nothing to be done. Unless… I don’t know… unless I’m forgetting something?
Oh, right! Volto’s magnetic power! I won’t forget it again. But I worry that while I’m remembering how Volto’s left hand repels, I’ll be forgetting something else. Oh, gracious! Where’s my bag?
Oh, hell yes. The Volto magic is back! He used his magnetic powers fueled by Grape-Nuts Flakes to rescue forgotten luggage! The end, buy cereal, what an adventure! Somehow, in only three issues, Volto has gone from Amazing Mars Hero to Pretty Handy Guy To Have Around. It feels like the next adventure will be him going into a gas station and screaming, “Remember, when I say ‘Volto’ my left hand rejects this flavor of energy drink! See? When I say ‘Volto’ my right hand attracts the bathroom key!” And maybe his creators sensed that because the next one they put Volto at ground zero of a full-on terror attack.
A gangster drives up and throws a bomb at city hall while announcing, “Fuck you, Mayor, I am doing this for crime!!” And any other moment of any other day, it would have been a flawless plan. Unfortunately, he didn’t notice the bodybuilding alien in the vampire shark hat standing in the way. You probably don’t remember, but this is Volto, and he has the exact right powers to throw a bomb somewhere else. Let’s recharge our magnetism with some cereal!
Oh right, the gangster. Thanks, kid! It seemed insane at first, but I’m starting to like how the Volto team shares a single hippocampus and only one of them can use it at a time. And it’s nice to see these adventurers getting some non-luggage work. So let’s see, we’ve done mountain lion, dynamite truck, street crime, jungle, luggage, terrorism… oh, shit. It’s time for shark!
Somehow this ended up less dramatic than the missing suitcase. There was no way of knowing this beforehand, but when the crisis is shark and your left hand launches sharks, your adventure is over by the second panel. Unless I’m forgetting something dizzy dames did in the 1940s?
I honestly think fainting is pretty reasonable here. This woman learned Martians were real and sharks can fly while she was already in the middle of a shark attack. “I’ve got this,” says the little boy to an on-duty lifeguard and a superhero with lady-pulling powers. And Volto, Worst Wingman from Mars, responds,”REMEMBER, SON… YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN… MY RIGHT HAND COCK BLOCKS! SORRY, ON MARS, WHERE WE EAT FOOD FOR MAGNETISM, WE SAY ‘SON’ WHEN WE CAN’T REMEMBER SOMEONE’S NA–” Hold on, does Volto not know this kid’s name? Wait a minute, do I? I… I don’t! Let me go back through these… oh my god, they never mention one. They forgot to give Volto’s sidekick a name!
In his next adventure, Volto ruins what would have been a bull national holiday. I don’t know all the rules for ritual bull murder, but this seems like cheating. At the very least Volto stole a moment sports fans have been waiting for all their lives. Volto, your heart is in the right place, but this is a profane violation of our natural order, like interrupting a state execution or preventing a juggling accident.
You may have noticed that up until now, Volto stories don’t have titles. For instance, this one is called “VOLTO FROM MARS” rather than “Volto in… Robbing a Man of His Fated, Glorious Death!” But this is the last time they do that. From now on, the writers use titles, and like Volto From Mars himself, they immediately fuck it up.
“Our first title! What should it be? Wait, I’ve got it: VOLTO FROM MARS in VOLTO’S WEIRD MAGNETIC POWERS PROTECT A MERCHANTMAN IN SUB-INFESTED SEAS…”. What the hell kind of title is that? That sounds like it should be followed by the words “a.k.a. 熟女 Japanese Bathtub Moms 3.” Ridiculous. I also reject the premise that Volto is “learning every minute.” The title of this says he’s there to protect a merchantman in sub-infested seas, and he doesn’t recognize a torpedo, the first and only thing they would have explained to him. And I wasn’t the only one disappointed. After this embarrassment, the military demoted Volto to Assistant Fruit Helper, the actual plot of his next story:
“HELLO, READER, BOY OH BOY ARE YOU ABOUT TO SEE CROPS AND MAGNETS BUT TO GET TO ALL THE ACTION YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO KEEP READING BECAUSE THIS IS STILL THE TITLE OF THIS VOLTO ADV–” oh, hey! Look at that! “Jimmy!” They gave the kid a name!
The moment the boy is given a name, God sends an unexplainable rock to kill him. You’ve seen the storytelling standards for Volto adventures, but there may never be a worse adventure premise than “sudden rock while picking peaches.” If I was telling this as a bedtime story, my daughter would say, “I hope mommy’s next husband has a soul, daddy.”
In an exciting turnaround, Volto picks fruit! They spin it like Volto saved the troops here, but good fucking luck getting five baskets of 1945 peaches across the Atlantic before they turn into toilet wine. There’s nothing better than Volto From Mars. He used his powers to pick peaches, pointlessly, and his sidekick almost died. It might be why Grape-Nuts switched to no mascot at all shortly after this.
Next up is the story known simply as “VOLTO FROM MARS in VOLTO UNLEASHES HIS MAGNETIC POWERS TO HELP JIMMY AND INTELLIGENCE AGENTS CAPTURE A DASTARDLY SPY RING..“
Readers today might have trouble relating to the rockcitement of wartime peach picking, but busting up dastardly spy rings is timeless. A classic adventure story! Now, let’s see… who would be spying on us in 1945? Oh n–
Oh, gracious! I forgot about racism. Let’s maybe skip this one.
Hey, Volto got his pilot’s license! I’m sure he and Jimmy will find some fun adventure in… a 1945 unexplored jungle. Oh n–
They immediately find a race war. Great job, Grape-Nuts.
Volto’s arms attract and repel when he says ‘Volto,’ but he also attracts accidents and repels reason passively, at all times. His adventures always start with disaster, usually something basic like a peach accident or an ethnic canoe cleansing, but sometimes, rarely, we open with him riding neck-first into a noose while screaming, “BANDITS ARE STEALING THE SACRED DIAMOND FROM THE ANCIENT TEMPLE!” You never know when he’s going to be awesome because he sucks or awesome because he’s awesome, and here it’s sort of both because they introduce an entirely new element to a Volto From Mars story:
Volto’s in trouble! We get to see how he uses his keen Martian mind to get out of a jam!
Oh, that makes sense. Volto sat still and waited for his natural accident summoning ability to summon a second disaster. And even he seems surprised it worked. He had absolutely no idea he was immune to lightning before this. Everything else here seems normal, though. His left hand repels, Pedro mus’ run weeth the diamond, I think we can move on to the next one.
Volto’s natural disaster magnetism is so powerful he is about to have a head on collision on a roller coaster. This is a child’s idea of how roller coasters work. It’s a note Steven Seagal would give in a movie called Six Flags of Death. “In the rescue scene, Mr. Seagal wants to ride the roller coaster too,” his agent would say before holding a finger to his ear and adding, “… and we’ll need 12 more feet of party sub.”
Volto immediately reverses the direction of a speeding roller coaster, far beyond the safety regulations of 1945, and ejects the shattered remains of an unrestrained wom– wait a goddamn minute. That’s the woman who was sitting behind him! Let’s get another look at her. Volto, can you grab her?
Yep, that’s her. And she’s definitely dead.
This makes no sense, even for Grape-Nuts Flakes. I’m worried maybe these are all hallucinations Volto is having while his body is being torn to bits by a savage beast…
Oh gracious! I think I was right! Luckily, this camper recognizes the struggling remains of Volto and fixes that bear with a rock!
That is one hell of a bear fixing, random passerby, but Volto has a particular way he does things, probably because of his memory issues. I’m worried someone else taking the first action in one of his comics could really fuck up his rhythm…
… I’m sure it’ll be fine, though.
In VOLTO FROM MARS and the case of HIS STRANGE MAGNETIC POWERS SAVE AN ARSENAL AND BRING CRAVEN CRIMINALS TO JUSTICE, it opens again with Volto in trouble. These saboteurs must have caught him when he wasn’t full of Grape-Nuts Flakes, his one weakness other than bears, memory, ropes, social cues, or a minor change in routine!
No, never mind. It was part of his plan to let them tie Jimmy to explosives to make sure these were the culprits tying children to explosives. And now, when those fools blow the arsenal, they’ll be blowing themselves right into Volto’s trap! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe Volto should go back to saving peach orchards from loose rock? It seems like he was at his best when he went outside and someone said, “Look up! Hey! A piano!” For instance, look what happens when the Volto writers try to do a plot:
Volto’s boy sidekick and “Joe” are behind enemy lines saving “Lily” from sabotage kidnappers? This is several too many things and none of them are Volto. And by the way, there’s no way anyone could be expected to know Lily. She has appeared one other time in the Volto saga, maybe, when a woman named Lily was knocked out of a canoe back in “VOLTO AND JIMMY ARE FLYING OVER JUNGLE IN A HELICOPTER.” So if it’s the same woman, and it might not be, it’d be like the lost luggage returning for a cameo.
Anyway, here we are, Voltoless, but we’ve found our target. Joe moves into the second phase of Operation: Hot Lily: not realizing there would be two bad guys and shouting “WE’D BETTER GET VOLTO!” before leaving the woman to be tortured. And it takes Volto zero panels to arrive because he was right behind them the whole time:
“REMEMBER! I AM WITH YOU!” Everyone always forgets Volto’s left hand repels (when he says ‘VOLTO!’) and Volto’s right arm attracts (when he says ‘VOLTO!’), but now they’re forgetting Volto is there at all. I’m sure it was a one time thing. I’m sure nothing strange is happening. I’m sure it was a one time thing. I’m sure nothing strange is happening.
“You eat Grape-Nuts Flakes like ice cream,” says Jimmy’s mother, who I guess exists.
“What an insane thing to say. By the way, I have no interesting facts about Grape-Nuts Flakes or which Martian abilities it fuels,” says Jimmy, maybe forgetting something. Or someone.
“A meteor! If only someone could repel it! Aargh, I’m talking crazy. Just outrun it!”
Oh yeah, Volto! We’d forgotten about you. You threw the meteor at people, by the way. I guess when I forgot about you I also forgot your first magnet always makes the situation worse.
Hmm. You know, I think the title VOLTO FROM MARS in… “VOLTO’S OUT-OF-THIS-WORLD MAGNETIC POWERS CONQUER A FIERY INFERNO IN THE TIMBERLANDS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST… SAVE JIMMY AND THE JUNIOR RANGERS FROM A TRAGIC FATE.” is so thorough we don’t even have to read this one.
“Can I hop in your top secret experimental rocket plane, Joe? I’m only ten, but I eat cereal!”
“Sure, Jimmy! You’re never more than five seconds from an unexplained catastrophe! Mess around in there.”
“AIIIIEEEEEE, I’M RIGHT HERE! WHY CAN’T ANYONE REMEMBER ME!?” shrieks Volto in what would be his final adventure. The memory-eating parasite Volto unknowingly(?) brought with him from Mars has completed its job. No one will ever know what happened here. Still, despite having every last thought scraped from his mind, Jimmy sensed what was happening. Something primal told him this was his last day at work and he should not give a fuck. And when he delivered the final Volto Grape-Nuts Flakes slogan, he did not.
Ha ha where am I, who am I, this cereal is THE NUTS.
This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Joshua Graves, ALL JOSHES SHALL BE SPARED.
A month ago I found a karate and ancient bird author named Eddie Vuittonet who lives on Vuittonet road on Vuittonet Ranch where he sells graphic design, rabbit meat, marketing, bicycles, and notary services. He also adapted a graphic novel from a CGI skeleton fighting movie he created, and it demonstrates what man can create when freed from the shackles of reason and education. Let’s shatter our mind against EDDIE VUITTONET’S EMERGENCY D. SQUAD ETAL: EXTORTION TERRORISM AND LAWLESSNESS PREMIERE ISSUE #1 (COLLECTORS EDITION (ADAPTED FROM THE MOVIE)).
This book, this perfect book, was published in 2023 by The Comic Syndrome Comic Group, a comic group started by famous comic group founder, Eddie Vuittonet. It’s basically GiJOE if everyone had the same uniform, personality, and abilities and COBRA was several blurry somethings in the distance. On the cover you can see one of the terrorists screaming “WE ALL DIE TODAY!” which might be the title, but is definitely a spoiler. Writing and illustrating this or any story is so far beyond Eddie Vuittonet’s means it will be difficult to explain. We will not understand what is happening because he did not. He uses the same production techniques, reasoning, and fonts as a troubled boy assembling his own pornography. Let’s meet the team!
The US Emergency Dispatch Squad (Critical Top Secret) is a mostly hot girl paramilitary group as imagined by someone who isn’t familiar with women or the military. Their Hunter Killer Team is made up of Jess, Ash, Frank, Gunny, and sorry about the record scratch you’re about to hear, but Jewdeath. They also have a Dagger Team featuring Frank, Ash, Jewdea– wait. I think Eddie Vuittonet got confused. It won’t be the last time. Speaking of, Go Fast 1 and Go Fast 2 make up their Ariel Attack Team, which is both a typo and a telegram group he started after Disney announced a black mermaid. The lady newscaster from News Crew is named Honey.
The page also shows every organization and sub-organization’s official family crest because there’s something you should know about the author…
He’s a crest man and a badge man. I mentioned earlier how Eddie runs a graphic design business out of his rabbit farm and notary, and you may have thought I was kidding. No, he makes custom merit badges and custom merit badges only. It’s not relevant to this comic, nothing could be, but it’s a great example of the kind of trap I fall in when I accidentally look into any aspect of Eddie Vuittonet. What a fascinating and impenetrable maniac, is my only point.
The story starts like a cutscene from a Gameboy Color adaptation of Lone Survivor. Hunter Killer Team Leader, Jess, is given orders to laser a herd. She is told to do this “Missionary style,” a military term Eddie Vuittonet invented which means not stopping to kill innocent people on the way. “I try not to kill anyone,” Jess acknowledges, Caveman style. I imagine you’re confused. This is a maze of Comic Sans and bold design decisions. To catch you up, there was a sentence of fine print before this explaining how ETAL, the terrorist organization, has turned Seattle, Washington, and New York into zombies to blackmail the government for money. Instead, the United States hired these eight people to kill the several terrorists and ten million zombies.
Jess calls in the airstrike, exploding the terrorists. She is delighted! I want to say this happens off panel, but I can’t be sure since you never quite know what you’re looking at in this comic. She is also elated, by the way. She is delighted and elated to kill, which the author calls “liberate,” but in a mistake way, not a satirical way. Eddie slides the Face Morph dial for Jess toward “Smile,” aging her forty years in the process.
Jes(s) is so excited about getting to blow up a town she starts spinning and shooting in every direction, killing all remaining anythings. Her commanding officer drives up in a “Humbee,” and he’s a gunnery sergeant because author Eddie Vuittonet has absolutely no fucking idea what’s going on. Gunny calls her a “got damn bitch,” partly because he’s upset about the war crime but mostly because no one ever calls her anything else. He also screams “What happened to one shot one kill? @#*#@”, a line from the movie Sniper about sniping, which Jess was not doing. It’s too much, I know. The important things to take away are:
1: Eddie hilariously describes everything the art should be, or very obviously is doing.
2: Eddie has issues with women, which is not what he calls them.
3: Eddie’s military knowledge is made up entirely of movies he sort of heard from inside a paper bag of spray paint.
Oh, great. Here comes Jewdeath. “Jewdeath” says an arrow pointing to Jewdeath, greeted by name and described over a caption that says “Jewdeath is on a 50 Caliber machine gun mounted on the Humbee.”
Jewdeath’s partner, who there wasn’t room to name, tells a terrorist firing an RPG, “Your leader is dead. I killed him.” The Middle Eastern man whose leader was just killed, Terrorist Leader, responds, “Estas Pendeja,” which both can’t be right and also can’t be right. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone this confused and I have a mother who uses Facebook.
Something about the situation resolves itself, and I have a theory there’s no point in trying to make sense of it. Let’s cut to the terrorist warning after party!
As far as I can tell, the team is given orders to get drunk at the Pentagon firing range, a place where they are definitely not. “Eat shit Jess!” says someone to Jess, naturally. “Bitch,” she replies. “Hey, you two bitches cut it out!” says someone else. “Get to work! LOCK AND LOAD #@!#” they add. This is a brilliant story being told exactly as the auteur intended– things are happening, bitch, suddenly and unrelated to previous things, bitch.
I don’t think there’s any way to find meaning in this. Predictive text wrote this after Mel Gibson fell asleep on his phone.
“I fucking have no fucking idea what’s going on or what the fuck is happening,” explains Jess as she recalls the events from the last page. Eddie, as an editor, jumps in here to help the reader understand. Not the plot, but the basic concept of thought bubbles. He adds a subtle red arrow pointing to an exploding human brain labeled MEMORY. Honestly, it’s a super useful tip. You can take this knowledge with you into most other comic books.
A woman named Madam, who is from both the CIA and the NSA, briefs the team on the 12 million zombies they are fighting. “There are over 12 million zombies,” she explains. Major Hannity, a “CIA News Historian,” then briefs her about the 12 million people acting a lot like zombies. It’s remarkable. This is something a dog would say to a frustrated scientist throwing another dog translator in the trash. Still, it’s nice to see a woman in this comic who isn’t immediately getting called “Bitch”. Great job, Eddie.
Damn it, Eddie. Actually, you know what? I’m still going to give this to him because if you remember from his word bubble tutorial, this man is only thinking “Bitch” at her. I’m not leaving anything out, by the way. Madam very politely shares all the zombie information she can at a scheduled meeting about sharing zombie information and that general, for no reason, decides “Bitch”.
I can’t be sure, but next the Hunter Killer Team sets out to destroy the zombies, probably.
They are all given “full armored biohazard suits” they are not trained to operate. Jess, maybe, asks how to take a crap in her suit and we learn everyone’s armor is equipped with an anal penetration button and a bidet. “Ha Ha Ha Ha” they say rather than “five thousand further questions.”
These are untested prototypes built by someone who decided pants should fuck you in the ass while you poop rather than include a butt flap, and Jess, very reasonably, suggests this is bullshit. You already know how her commanding officer reacts.
Seriously. You ruin everything, Jess. Now shut the #@*# up so we can get to this zombie killing action!
KA-BOOM!!, AHHAAGGG, say the explosions near distant man-like shapes wandering alone in various directions. The visuals… stunning! The explanations… helpful! It’s a masterpiece. It’s something you’d find in the trash of someone who died from being bad at every single thing. But it’s about to get awesome.
Fuck you if you don’t love this: when the zombies get killed, they explode into Skeletonzi warriors. They are double undeads! Or quadruple if you count how Eddie can’t even spell the words he invents and they sometimes turn into Skeletozi or Skeletoni warriors. Skeletoni! Like the answer to a popsicle stick asking what a grave robber has for lunch! I just love all of it so much.
So Eddie Vuittonet is a maniac, but he’s a deep country maniac, which means he has clearly defined politics. He is for America gun freedom, so he knows the only enemy more deadly than a terrorist zombie, who also turns into a skeleton when you kill it, is The Media.
The dumb stupid media, News Crew (see NEWS CREW badge on page 1 for their organization’s crest), are live on facebook, breaking the story of our heroes killing zombies and then skeletons. “Keep it up and your going dead on facebook!” says Gunny.
Eddie Vuittonet puts a period on this silliness by starting his next caption with a period. Dawn, labeled “Dawn,” drops down and kicks a jaywalker* to save a team member** from an ambush***!
* zombie
** unnamed
*** not shown
The killing continues! “Your dead meat!” screams Sam! “We did a great job!” thinks a different one! It’s hard to believe a single grown man was responsible for all this. If my daughter made this I’d tell her, “I’m not your therapist, you drunk first grader.”
Sam has some trouble with a particularly stuburn “Jaywalker,” shouting “Die! Die! Dam it!” from three different panels as if his frustration grew so great it became unanchored from time. “We’ll help explain what you’re supposed to be looking at,” say the captions and every other character. This comic is equal parts stroke, equal parts apology for the stroke.
Let’s check in with the got dam @#*#ing liberal media.
Joe the journalist and Honey the lady journalist are refusing to evacuate ground zero of the infectious zombie bioweapon site. The rescue commandos may not agree with Joe’s first amendment rights, but they have to respect them. Or, as the author puts it, “F#@k You!” Danner counters this with, “H-hey!” There’s a part of me that wishes I could tell you more, but you’re all caught up with Joe and Honey.
The kiling continues as Joe drives away. “Florence! Betty!” says the author. This is madness. This is something a drunk driver would tell his court-appointed hypnotist.
This is a crazy twist I should have seen coming. The team is taking orders from “X-President Trump.” This could mean anything from Trump gaining mutant powers to the author not knowing how to spell “ex” to a refusal to accept the results of the 2020 election. We don’t know, but the generous and capable X-President is willing to stop the zombie apocalypse by building a wall around Queens even if he has to shut down a building he owns in Manhattan. This is a haunted mirror maze of language and ideas, but yeah, it’s word-for-word what that guy would say.
Jess hears “Trump” and “wall” and decides to try for a joke. “Wow, the ‘Jaywalkers’ are illegal aliens?” she Lenos into the military briefing. The rest of the Hunter Killer team is so disappointed they can’t even bring themselves to call her Bitch. “You dummy!” says… maybe Danner? So anyway, now the small, elite squad of pants fucking soldiers are off to build a fifty mile wall.
Dagger Team finds a vehicle (maybe a moped?) and someone (not pictured) tells them to kick a door down to get it. “Ninjas do it.” they say. I don’t know if this means Dagger Team is now The Ninjas or if this is some kind of pep talk. Like the way you might say, “Beat-down that 935 lb. gorilla with yubiwaza; ninjas do it all the time.” Speaking of beat-downing a 935 lb. gorilla with yubiwaza, the graphic novel stops here for a third ad for the author’s karate book. It’s sort of a parody of the comic book ads on which his style of martial arts is based, and yet also very much not?
It shows you how to mimic the shape of a tiger jaw with your hand to more effectively destroy a throat! A topless woman in hot pants thanks YUBIWAZA for helping her kill two men! But we’re not going to get distracted. Let’s get back to the com– wait, what the shit am I looking at?
This must be what a cat sees when it watches you read a magazine. This is shapes and letters fighting their way out of a bucket. There’s no way to know for certain, but I am 80% sure their air support killed a school full of zombie children. Ash and Jess stand over their charred remains. Jess takes it all in, this grim and unthinkable landscape of child carcasses, and says, “Ha ha… Good riddance!”
You already know what Ash says back.
The author calls both women Bitches and then wonders to himself, “Wait a minute, do the kid zombies not turn into kid skeletons? Could this be a clue?” Maybe!
Joe and Honey, reporter and woman reporter, are doing their own investigation. They find a group of children eaten by “Jaywalkers” who also did not become skeletonzi! “Wait a minute, why aren’t the kids turning into Skeletoni warriors?” thinks the author again, who then finishes writing his comic without ever learning the answer. Was this meant to be the key to a cure? A plan he forgot to pay off? Some effort to appeal to Chinese comic distributors? Eddie Vuittonet doesn’t know. It’s just a fun piece of skeltozi lore. You can kill kid zombies without worrying about skeletons, and maybe I’m the weird one for wanting to know more.
Jess and Unnamed EDS Member With An Extra Half a Face find Joe and Honey, and in a fun twist on a classic, Jess calls someone else a bitch.
And then, since no one else was doing it, Jess calls herself a bitch. “SHIT,” adds her partner. And the two of them get to work shooting more child zombies.
“Come on, you guys, that’s not fair,” says Eddie Vuittonet’s divorce lawyer as this is entered into evidence.
Joe and Honey escape from the chaos to the Humbee, which if you look closely is…
… right over fucking there, bitches!!!!
This is getting really weird, but Joe and Honey come across some more dead children. “My God, they must have truly suffered,” says Honey. “BOY, HOWDY, THEY SURE AS FUCK DID!” agrees Joe.
Let me skip ahead and see if I can find something that isn’t child slaughter…
Nope…
No…
Okay, I think this might be adult murder:
Jess and her team are ambushed by E.xtortion T.errorism A.nd L.awlessness, and are possibly killed? The situation seems hopeless, maybe. It’s hard to tell. Then Jess sees the ETAL leader, alone. And unarmed, and facing the wrong way. It’s a long shot, but it’s the only shot she has.
It worked!
The rest of the terrorists pull up in an APC, but she reminds them of their one rule: when your leader dies you have to go home! You already know what they say to Jess.
It’s going to seem like I’m leaving something out, but I’m not. In the next panel they just leave. And Jess shoots them anyway.
“What the F*@*” says someone, and like I have been this whole time about everything, I agree.
“MACK GOING TO KILL” says an arrow pointing to Mack on his way to kill. “uuUUMmmmm” says a sound effect under it as if that got it confused about how sound effects are supposed to work. And then in glorious Comic Sans, an empty parking lot or maybe an office lobby announces “The ETAL captain is killed”. That means EDS, or The Ninjas, maybe Team Dagger, have now killed the ETAL leader and their captain! They’ve done it!
Wait, no, we’ve been executing too many infected children. We’ve forgotten that specifically non-child zombies turn into Skeletonzi and we have to kill them again.
Betty shoots Tyro, which might be a typo, but what’s this? “FIRST PLACE” says a winning ribbon over this caption written by a madman? Fuck this plot, fuck everything I’ve ever known. The only thing important to me right now is that the absolute lunatic writing this story about skeleton-like warriors, known as the skeletoni, might have given himself a little prize mid comic book! Amazing! AMAZING.
“What the Hell!” thinks Betty about a skeleton horde (not pictured) as the ETAL LEADER appears? The one who died? Twice? And isn’t a skeleton? Betty was right, What the Hell! For a lot of reasons. We are on page 71 of a 72 page graphic novel and we have made no progress on any enemy other than a twice killed elementary school. How is Eddie going to wrap this story up?
He isn’t! It’s a cliffhanger! The story ends like it began, with a clearly insane rabbit farmer disagreeing with himself about spelling and finishing up a weird merit badge in Canva. Why am I still typing? I don’t need to tell you how much this rules! This rules! Bye!
This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Dan BÂ who, if killed by crotch shot or tainted meat, turns into a mighty Dan Beletonzi!
Are there pterodactyls or ancient, extinct birds recently? What? That’s… huh? Congratulations, junior bird scientists, we’ve finished the thesis statement of PREHISTORIC BIRDS IN MODERN TIMES by Eddie Vuittonet, Ph.D. (2023).
Prehistoric birds haunt all seven corners of the globe! From The Amazon to Madagascar to Africa! From “New Zeland” to three different counties in Texas! They are here, maybe, some say, but surely the author doesn’t mean like… still, right? This isn’t a children’s book about uncorroborated dinosaur sightings is it?
Oh, fuck. This book is raw bird madness out of the gate. There’s no dedication, introduction, or table of contents. The unnumbered first page starts with “PREHISTORIC BIRDS IN MODERN TIMES BY EDDIE VUITTONET BIRDS: THERE ARE REPORTS OF SUCH BEASTS WEBSTER’S DEFINES BIRD AS ANY FLYING MYSTERY WE SHOULD BE SAFE INSIDE AS LONG AS NO ONE TOLD THE BIRDS OF THIS.”
So our first prehistoric bird is the Thunderbird, a purely mythological creature from Native American folklore. Is this author suggesting the legends are based on an actual lightning dinosaur who has survived for hundreds of millions of years? Maybe! He seems very confused and may have written this book by saying, “Siri, can i die to dinosaur, please print results.”
It shoots lightning arrows? And hunts sea whales? This is a jackhammer of Thunderbird madness. But I appreciate how Eddie has dressed up his outbursts in the language of science. As if saying “According to some reports, people have claimed to see giant birds” is less crazy than “Indian bird gods are just dinosaurs killing Nebraska elephants during thunderstorms.” This rules. If I made this up as a bedtime story, my daughter would say, “You are high as fuck; this rules.”
Wow! These ten one-sentence paragraphs screamed in no particular order finally explain why Native Americans famously refused to use bows and arrows! Allegedly, some have claimed. “Never do this, arrows are my thing,” said the mighty Thunderbird, reports say, to “some Native American tribes” who honored it by hunting sea whales with only bare-handed strangulation. Fact or fiction, one thing we’re all certain of is that this magic bird was completely real and a creature!
I wish every book was like this. It’s make-believe, but somehow also wrong? It’s like watching someone have a stroke after you tell them, “I’ve never seen scores as low as yours all my years of teaching kindergarten.”
It’s worth mentioning how gigantic this text is. For scale, here it is next to a jumbo X-Men valentine. PREHISTORIC BIRDS IN MODERN TIMES is the size of a magazine and each page makes room for about five sentences. If this was an eye chart, we’d be on the third line from the top and a legally blind person would be saying, “Ha ha this motherfucker is crazy.”
The second large and alaming bird in the book is the harpy eagle, which isn’t prehistoric at all. It’s only a big bi– I mean, what are we doing here? Are we listing birds that bird idiots might mistake for older birds? I don’t think Dr. Eddie Vuittonet quite came up with a book idea here. This is barely Scattered Bird Thoughts by The Dumbest Cat, much less PREHISTORIC BIRDS IN MODERN TIMES by A Human Doctor. Still, harpy eagles are pretty sweet. Let’s see what Eddie knows about them.
The harpy eagle is large and big with a need as to be quantified for us in comprehending the physical similarities of other prehistoric creatures which bear similar physical similarities? Well, I stand corrected. It seems Eddie is actually quite smart. This is all very science.
I’m glad you’re looking at it, because it’s hard to put into words how dumb this is. This sounds like a bully mocking the report you did on a harpy eagle book you didn’t read. It sounds like the transcript from a speech Donald Trump would give to the Junior Nazi Bird Watchers of America. It’s something a rat would tell a researcher before he wrote down “gen. 24-C: still unable to communicate” and slapped the incinerate button.
There’s no good reason for this next clipping, but I worry you think I’m taking the extra crazy shit out of context. I wanted you to see one of Dr. Eddie Vuittonet’s bird entries in its entirety.
Dr. Eddie writes with all the understanding and pacing of a baby falling down its first flight of stairs. This is panic. He is typing random, unformed thoughts in a way less respectful to his readers than if he had just copied Wikipedia. He’s making wild guesses, offering statements so broad they’re pointless, and seems to have no idea he’s repeating himself. And to make things weirder, he says “as stated earlier” during one of the rare times when he hasn’t stated something earlier. You may have clocked this as the hallucinatory stupidity of AI, but I don’t think AI would sum up its harpy eagle report by saying, “In conclusion, the harpy eagle is slightly less large or giant than a different and fictional bird, but I mean, you know, still. Pretty big.” Maybe he is working with a kickass robot that won’t shut up about Thunderbirds, but to me this has the stink of human idiocy.
Let’s move on to the very next two sentences, or as Dr. Eddie calls them, “paragraphs.”
As a man of science, this prehistoric bird book author is so skeptical about prehistoric bird sightings that he tells the reader not to believe people who saw a harpy eagle, a real bird which exists. Whatever they think they saw, there’s a decent chance it was only a weather balloon or legendary Cherokee bird harbinger. The point is, birds play tricks. And speaking of, did he say there were once birds larger than today’s ostriches? Let’s learn more!
The Titanis bird, a large bird-like creature, lived both 5 million years ago and about 70 years ago. It’s hard to know the particulars since reports of newspaper reports weren’t very particulat back then. All we know is some parts of the 1900s were terrified. How old is Dr. Eddie Vuittonet? I didn’t even know we had parts of America where you could still get an education this bad. This sounds like copy being read by a newscaster in the background of an all-chimpanzee version of Law and Order.
The section on the Titanis bird focuses less on its stats and powers and more on the fear people felt when it attacked them. People went hysterical for miles! At least until later when they found out it never existed! Nonetheless, it’s a good example of how paranoia and confusion can be as dangerous as dinosaur monsters. Nonetheless again, maybe the dinosaur monster was real.
Despite it not being real, the Titanis bird, which again was a bird-like creature, was seen across many times or places despite living only in prehistoric times. “It was gigantic yet only weighted 10 pounds,” Dr. Eddie told his anaesthesiologist who instantly knew he had made a terrible mistake.
Honestly, it seems like Dr. Eddie wasn’t quite sure how to explain the Titanis bird. It was big, yes, and very much like a bird, sure. But he needed us to know it was both extinct and also a terrifying threat to humanity, so here he is rewording it for the fifth time. And if you look at the end there, I think he’s also trying to explain it in Bird? Is that what’s happening? If you said this to me, I’d pull out my bird squashing mallet and tell you, “Clever disguise, bird, but not clever enough.”
Maybe I’m too quick to hit secret birds with hammers, but I don’t know how else to interpret “the bird was able to communicate” followed by the word “phausbddibidbidasushaci“. We are pioneers of an all new madman frontier here with Dr. Eddie Vuittonet.
There are only a few more Titanis bird facts to cover.
To wrap things up! The Titanis bird was probably frightening, abusive, and confusing with a long neck made for abusive and frightening grasping. We can’t know for certain, though. In fact, as Dr. Eddie concludes, the words he’s writing are really only useful as an example of how dumb people can be when they’re stupid. Speaking of, the Gastornis is extinct and no longer exists, but does it still exist today?
This is the question Eddie asks himself and never answers. Was this maybe meant to be a textbook? Was this the “chapter review” for his two sentences about Gastornis? The answer to this question is literally the previous sentence. I’m not ashamed to say I’ve run out of ways to call this book stupid. It’s stupid in ways that cannot be. This is the 1950s prehistoric bird attack of stupid. Anyway, here’s how Dr. Eddie answers the Gastornis question: with a story of two cops who saw a pelican:
Because of bird, there was an intense outbreak of pubic fear, the best possible typo for public fear, which refers to the little-known phenomenon of people getting scared (because of something). I’m sorry for getting so technical, but it’s important to know all these sociological terms being thrown around. It seems like the real danger of prehistoric birds doesn’t come from when they exist, but how scary it is when they could. If you told me a cop said he saw a large bird, I would light my entire neighborhood on fire. “Better to die this way than by bird,” I would tell them. “We agreeiiiiiieeeeeieieeeee!!!” they would agree.
Some other examples of fear are confusing car, disease, and eaten by bird. I guess the book’s only chapter, chapter “one” we’ll call it, is mostly about fear. Not the nature of fear, but the dictionary definition of fear and how a gigantic flying creature might feed upon it. The best thing about terrible writers is they can’t hide what’s wrong with them for long. It’s why the only thing I have to say in this sentence is Bloodsport and titties. But when an author stops their dinosaur encounters book to write about fear of birds, fear of birds, fear of birds, it’s what psychologists call “revealing.” Dr. Eddie continues…
You see, bird media, combined with bird encounters, creates something of a bird spiral which leads to the “monster bird” obsession. Okay, now that we all understand our bird fear and can work together as a community to keep it in check, let’s get back to the prehistoric bi– wait, no, it looks like Dr. Eddie said “MORE HYSTERIA:“. Let’s see what he means by that.
Oh, this old story. We were all taught in school how Henry Ford had to innovate around the rise of terrified automobile hunters. Millions of dollars (threes of millions in today’s money) were spent on the classic Ford ad campaign, “They Aren’t Monsters, They Are Cars– Machines Similar To Horses In Some Ways; It Is The Soggies You Must Fear.”
I think we get it. We all assume we’re smarter than someone, and in order for that to be true for Dr. Eddie Vuittonet Ph.D., he had to invent the ancient car hunters of Dinosaur Bird County. And it’s wonderful. Fantastic. I’m glad he did it. But it raises the question: what the goddamn fucking shit? This multiple mule kick survivor has a Ph.D.? Let’s skip to the ABOUT THE AUTHOR section.
Okay, that’s a disguise, possibly on a balloon or an ape, which would explain some of this. Not all of it, of course. This isn’t how a writer describes themselves. This is more like a template for a human-like thing to get started. “The author is interested in things and places. And if you read between the lines, wink, you’re looking at a guy who also likes subjects and locations.” This is why the other aliens don’t let you do the talking, Phausbddibidbidasushaci.
Let’s keep reading and see if his bio gets any bett– oh, fuck yeah:
He’s got his own martial art style! I have to look this up.
It’s real! And it’s even better! His style is for men only, and it’s just Yubiwaza, the comic book art of poking pressure points! I’m so happy. Finding out the bird maniac is also a touch karate maniac is the exact gift I wanted. Plus it explains his fear of birds– he is only trained on the death meridians of man. The dim mak is useless against a swooping flurry of talons and feathers!
Ha ha his karate taught him to write like this? Then I have never felt safer calling someone a fucking idiot. You can’t be all “Krav Mazoo is what taught me to turn my words into blades” and then use your eggborn paws to type “pubic fear is alaming overheard bird stories, I am a doctor.” You fucking idiot.
In the ’90s, Dr. Eddie gave up his martial arts career to dedicate his keen fac checking skills to words and art of all sorts. I looked him up to see what products he offered, but his website “mynetmuffin.com” forwarded me to the URL “greatsolutions4u.com” which is no longer online, but looked like this:
This sentence shouldn’t help anyone understand anything, but with the help of Pervert Pantyhose Captain America, Dr. Eddie sold collectible Presidential shapes, signed and dated by him, an unknown retired karate maniac. His site had its own Clippy, a superhero who would offer [username] hot savings if you clicked his dick. None of this is alaming. If I would have asked you if this author had a bizarre dropshipping and NFT website, you would have said, “Yeah, it’d be weird if he didn’t.” I think we’re all more interested in how a man this uneducated ended up with a doctorate. Let’s find his LinkedIn.
He got his Ph.D. from “External degree?” Does that mean it’s fake or from a dimension outside our ow– hold the fuck on, did the University of Texas-Pan American give him a Black Belt!? Wait, forget that. Did he list “Mexican nights” at a local restaurant as an extracurricular activity? This guy is the fucking best.
It looks like he also makes 3d animation, and he’s selling a “FULL LENGHT” movie called ETAL for $3.50. It’s about hot girl operatives taking down a New York terrorist cell, which does not explain the skeleton demons, and I don’t care.
He also has a YouTube channel where he does comedy(?) videos, like “Give me the cat!”. They are aggressively untethered from reason, and he has the comic timing of an eczema outbreak. Much like his horny skeleton fighters and commemorative superhero Nixon licensed art tokens, they’re what you’d expect from a karate master hiding from birds. Are these words still making sense? I’m worried the act of describing “Dr.” Eddie Vuittonet was a trap to destroy language and I walked right int– oh, shit! A video for his karate lessons!
It’s pretty long, so I sped it up 50x. It stars Jessabell and Ash, two sexy lady soldiers from his animated movie. They let you know “Dr.” Eddie is back from a “12 year absence from the professional circuit.” Because on top of everything else, this guy is doing a Frank Dux! He’s claiming, I think, to have won multiple secret underground ninja tournaments starting in the ’70s and continuing until… 1998? The porn commandos describe him as “the internationally known 10th degree red belt” of Muryo Waza. Oh my god, there are so many videos… how am I going to finish this article about his prehistor– HE HAS A RAP THEME SONG ABOUT HIMSELF.
“The Ballad of Eddie Vuittonet” is about how no one in the ’70s was ready for the combination of kung fu and karate he learned from the comic book ads of the ’60s. And not only can he not rap, I’m not sure he know when rhymes are supposed to ha– SHUT THE FUCK UP, HE HAS A BAND.
The band Eddie Vuittonet and The Time Travelers seems to be just Eddie Vuittonet singing to karaoke tracks, so either the Time Travelers are actual time travelers who went to 1980s Korea to be studio musicians or it’s an invitation to any future Eddie Vuittonets to join him here in the safest, most prehistoric birdless timeline.
I was a little disappointed to learn “Dr.” Eddie and the nobodies were mostly a cover band and not a karate band, but you haven’t seen vulnerable until you’ve seen a man incoherently afraid of pelicans sing “Say Something I’m Giving Up On You.”
Guys, do you know what I forgot about? PREHISTORIC BIRDS IN MODERN TIMES. Let’s get back to the book.
In early 1976, two teens saw a gorilla-faced “bird” and three teachers saw a pterodactyl. “That’s probably enough details,” thought the doctor who explained what “being scared” was for five pages of his book, or nearly 40 words.
Sixteen years earlier, only a few states away, a couple in a forest looked up and saw a bird. “Wait, no, it was a pterodactyl,” they said later. In the prehistoric bird world, we call this kind of story “pterodac-tight” because no skeptic can deny it. It is tighter than the vocals on Eddie Vuittonet and the Time Travelers’ cover of “Groovy Kind of Love.” You shouldn’t need more proof than this, and yet listen to this story of an actual dinosaur who, for only a brief moment, fluttered among man:
The only problems I have with this story, and they’re admittedly small, are that it takes millions of years to get trapped in limestone, and then another 65 million years to wait after the Cretaceous period to pop out and croak at railway workers, and I don’t think pterodactyls live that long. If this author didn’t have a Ph.D. from External degree, I’d swear he was a fucking idiot.
In 1890 a group of men shot down a dinosaur. They took a photo of it, but the paranormal community can’t remember where they saw it. Facebook, maybe? It could have been a t-shirt, theorize other researchers.
Speaking of Facebook, let’s do a racist boomer one. This is a story of a native who dared enter the forbidden dinosaur region of a forest, and sure enough, he got impaled on the beak of some kind of… strange bird.
The native carefully looked through the book of animal pictures and made a point to tell the colonizers, “I want everyone to see I understand the concept of books. Like when I look at this giraffe I know it is not a demon you’ve trapped inside this devil you call ‘paper.’ In fact, my nude, superstitious people utilize a similar technology in our savage caves. ‘Art,’ we call it. But god damn it, if I turn this page and see a drawing of the dinosaur that bit me I’m going to forget everything I just said and run into the night, away from what I will insanely assume is an actual monst– OH FUCK PTERODACTYLE! PTERODACTYL!!!“
Wait, what the hell? These are the same teachers who saw a pterodactyl from earlier. Did “Dr.” Eddie forget he told this story, or was he hoping we did? And now he’s embellishing it with this encyclopedia bullshit? They’re elementary school teachers and they had to look up “pterodactyl?” That’s like a prehistoric bird book author claiming he had to look up the best way to get pee stains out of underpants. A ridiculous lie from a pee-soaked liar.
What the goddamn fuck, “Dr.” Eddie? You’re telling the same story of the guys who shot a pterodactyl again? And now instead of being able to find the photo the newspaper article has disappeared? It wasn’t enough that a prehistoric monster was shot down and no trace of it remains; the newspaper article about it has to be mysterious? Can you seriously not wait for your nephew to come over and help fix your Internet before publishing your dinosaur book?
By the way, it isn’t “elusive,” doctor. You powerline-brained ape. It’s the first thing you get when you Google “Tombstone” and any combination of bird, dinosaur, or pterodactyl, Eddie!
Okay, we’re coming to the end, and here on page… I don’t know, thirty? Eddie casually drops a story about a miniature zombie pterodactyl who hunts corpse meat at New Guinea funerals. But his heart isn’t in it. He’s told and retold all these stories of massive flying reptiles, possible pelicans, definitely Thunderbirds, and for this third-hand, mid-level bat sighting he can barely manage any enthusiasm. “Pffff… I don’t know, it looks much like a rhamphorhynchoid,” he says. “Like a goddamn what,” it would be fair to counter with.
In the end, the only proof of this rhamphorhynchoid is “physical evidence,” an adorable misunderstanding of every part of science and language. He’s spent an entire book writing bird watching fan fiction, forgetting where he saw proof for long-debunked pterodactyl stories, and questioning the existence of real birds. And after all that, has he still managed to stupidly believe all these impossible, dumbass stories are true?
YES!
Special thanks to Troy Ryan Wood for discovering “Dr.” Eddie.
This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Josh S, who is called shuchapaboodathong in bird language. It means “Land Josh.”
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