What the Hell Is This Contorted Wreck of Inadequacy Run Amok?
This is devoid of any redeemable value. Why would anyone spend so much time doing this?
—visitor response (n < 47)
Curmudgeon in a Jar is an awfully magical (or magically awful) place where the star-crossed lovers Misguided Creativity and Overreaching Artistry are tragically separated from each other by an impassable chasm of self-doubt and ineptitude. Try as they might to traverse the void, their perennial estrangement obliges them to resort to pleasuring themselves while dreaming wistfully of a day when they may at last form a harmonious union. Then sloppily consummate said coupling. Then wreak an unholy, profane vengeance on those who sneered at their deficiencies.
Welcome!
Contributors to the Heap
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‘Dactor runs this joint. All failings belong to it. That’s what it is told, anyway, and it’s a machine (mostly), so who cares if its feelings are hurt? Name: The Master Content Redactor; ‘Dactor |
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Ted is a jerk. But he’s usually right. Name: Theodore Crumski |
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Slappy is not, truth be told, a mildly developmentally stunted child with an overactive imagination and a registered copy of Photoshop. How does your opinion of his creations change if we tell you he is a man grown with a full-time job and a mortgage? Name: Slaptholomew McGee |
