Another cartoon…

Posted by Jason Steele | Saturday 26 June 2010 6:41 pm

Here’s a new cartoon for ALL YOU LOVELY PEOPLE.  It’s called “charlie teh unicron.”

YouTube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5Nz8p3EP7A

QuickTime:
http://www.filmcow.com/charlietehunicron.html

President Taft’s Secret Pony Brigade

Posted by Jason Steele | Monday 21 June 2010 6:41 pm

A historical drama.

YouTube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QrpCN014mS8

QuickTime:
http://www.filmcow.com/ponybrigade.html

Yes, I fell off the face of the planet.

Posted by Jason Steele | Monday 21 June 2010 1:05 am

I just recieved this e-mail:

Imma try to not sound like a terrible jerk but would it kill ya to post a blog update once in a while? i ain’t necessarily asking for a video (though that’d be nice) I’m just asking for a nice little reminder that you haven’t fallen off the face of the planet cause when you haven’t posted since early May and I kinda wanna know whats going on.

So let me explain.  I did in fact fall off the face of the planet.

My journey began during an exotic sailing expedition I took near the end of May.  Strong currents and unpredictable winds combined with a malfunction of my navigation equipment left me stranded in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, weeks away from any land mass.  As my food and water supply dwindled, I knew that I had a tough decision to make.  Either I die of dehydration in a few days when my water ran out, or I try my luck with the silver, half-translucent shard that I wore around my neck.  I chose the latter.

Let me explain.  You see, years ago I met a mystic in India who claimed to have killed a god, and from its body taken three triangular “shards” of reality.  Each shard, I was told, contained the power to distort and alter the very fabric of existence.

Naturally I didn’t believe a word of it.  That is, until the mystic led me to the body of the god that he had slain.  What I saw that day changed me.  The “body” was small, about the size of a small child, and showed no signs of decomposition.  It had no discernible face, and its limbs were long, lanky and jointed in very unhuman-like places.  But what truly terrified me about this dead “being” was the color.  A color that I had never seen before and, after leaving, could no longer even picture in my mind.  It was a shade and texture that simply does not exist.  An impossible color.

The mystic died a week or so later, killed senselessly by a lowly street thief.  When I heard of his death I broke into his house and selfishly took one of the three shards.  I do not know what became of the other two.

Which brings me back to my ship, and my horrible decision to use the shard.  As I gripped the smooth, silver triangle between my fingers, I felt a cold chill forming inside my being.  A chill that felt uncomfortably familiar… as if it were leaking into my past, infecting my memories.  I should have stopped – all of my instincts were telling me to put the shard down and accept my fate, to die at sea with honor.

I no longer remember the moment that I used the shard.  All I remember is the terrible sound that came afterwards.  A thick, almost physical sound that, like the color of the dead god, seemed impossible.  But within a few moments the sound became clear, and I was so overwhelmed by what I was hearing that I would have taken my own life just to escape it.

It was everything.  Every word ever spoken, every scream and every giggle.  The last breath of every murder victim, the first laugh of every baby.  It was the spectrum of human existence – every good, bad and mundane moment in the lives of all whom had ever walked the earth, being repeated to me for what seemed like an eternity.

Mercifully, the shard had also created an opening in space that I eventually fell through.  An opening to where, I do not remember.  All I know is that I had fallen off the very face of the planet, and away from that horrible sound.

I have vague memories of the weeks that followed, quick flashes of events that now seem completely alien to me.  Eventually I returned home, although I cannot remember how or when.

All that I have left of that trip is a feeling, a terrible feeling now permanently injected into the very core of my psyche.  A feeling that tells me the sound will be back, waiting for me on the other side of my inevitable death.  Only this time there will be no exit, no end.  Just me and the sound, that unbearable symphony of existence, for all of eternity.