Not so much of the force, Luke

A new toon. It's been a few weeks, but I always like to share the one's that make me LOL (I hope that means what I think and not something utterly filthy, you never know online).

This one is from Phil at The Rut. I've been following it for a while, and it constantly amuses, so is well worth checking out if you like that sort of thing.

I'm not much of a Star Wars fan these days (although I did see Return of the Jedi a few times at the cinema a very long time ago), but always thought that there was something special about C3PO's relationship with R2D2. It's good to see the tenderness translated into all areas.

[Note for uninitiated: WD-40 is the trademark name of my favourite 'penetrating' oil, and it's a ripper cleaner and anti-corrosion spray, but best of all is its all round use as a lubricant to all things metal.]

Comments

Debbie Courson Smith said…

It's a good one. I thought it was from the New Yorker magazine...that kind of style.

20 August 2008 at 12:11

Jane Hards Photography said…

You have WD 40! I thought that was a uk thing. I not sure you should have a favourire penetrating oil though!
As for the toon, far more entertaining than the real thing. Give me Star Trek anyday.

21 August 2008 at 04:36

Kris McCracken said…

Diva, The New Yorker style with a web attitude! I like this guy's work.

Babooshka, WD 40 is wonderful. I'd marry it if I wasn't already!

26 August 2008 at 21:16

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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