Twisted Tuesdays: 13 Creepy/WTF Websites

This is a great collection of weird websites. Love this!

Bizarro Central

internet mold

Most of these sites are from the “golden age” of the internet and some are newer. They all have something in common, whoever created them wanted to scare you, make you go “WTF,” or even join their apocalypse cult. Enjoy!

1) Dong Ghost, a creepy Korean comic translated in English. Proceed at your own risk!

2) More WTF than creepy. It’s entertaining. Just keep clicking.

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3) If there was ever a haunted site, magibon is it.

4) Official site of the Nike-wearing doomsday cult. Prepare for an internet time warp!

5) Occult magick fun. Abracadabra.

6) ” WARNING: This website contains both a hypnotic induction and subliminals and is both mentally and psychologically toxic.” 

7) “WWYS® has been formed by a consortium of international companies – including leading financial and genetic research institutions – to create a product that gives you an actual CASH VALUE for your soul.” 

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People Suck . . . Except Mormons, Who Will Always Respect Your Wishes. Especially When You’re Naked

me specialMy name is Kirk Jones, and I’m socially awkward.

I’ve never really understood how to interact with people. Over the years I’ve come up with my own rules, personal guidelines to social etiquette that completely shut me down in almost every circumstance. Whenever I’m about to open my mouth, I remember these rules. I know I should ignore them. But experience still reinforces their relevance for me. Today I just want to talk about one of these rules, and that is that most folks are oblivious to apathy, even if apathy is dagger-like and shooting straight out of your eyes down their throats.

Except Mormons who go door to door. They’re alright.

Rule #1: People don’t give a shit if you give a shit about what they’re talking about.

I remember going to my friend’s birthday party about five years ago. His ex girlfriend’s father sat beside me at the main table. He was decked out in Dale Earnhardt gear, chiding someone else at the table for their love of Jeff Gordon. I stared at my steak, hoping it would keep me out of the conversation.

It didn’t.

“You like Jeff Gordon?” He asks me.

“Not really into NASCAR,” I say.

I assumed that’d be it. Do you like it? No, sir I don’t like it. The end. Except it wasn’t the end. For some reason, he took my response to mean I didn’t UNDERSTAND NASCAR. For the next half hour, this guy used my steak as a race track, looping around the edge with his finger to show me where the pit crew waited. “See that piece of fat right there. Pit crew’d be right there. They fix stuff.”

That’s fucking nice. Can I eat now?

No I can’t. Because Dale here ain’t done showing me, in excruciating detail, exactly why the Indy 500 is called the Indy 500. Surprisingly, there are only 200 laps. Even more shocking: the 500 has nothing to do with how many brain cells die each time you watch a NASCAR event. The 500 comes from 500 miles. Now, with this precious knowledge in hand, would I be more interested in watching a bunch of fucking cars drive in circles for hours and hours and hours? Fuck no. I don’t give a shit about cars, nor do I give a shit about circles or ovals or stars . . . or any other shape that cars would care to navigate.

After 130 laps, Jim noticed a pattern: the cars were moving in circles!

There is only one car story I have thoroughly enjoyed in my life. One of my relatives was caught on the interstate with the runs and had to clear out her purse and shit in it. That is interesting, and that kind of story you can tell me any time. If someone takes a dump in an awkward place or pisses their pants in public, I’m all ears. If you have a story about someone who likes to take dumps in awkward places and piss in public, you will have my attention for life.

With my NASCAR experience in mind, I’m still confused as to why my mother used to hide on the Mormons who came to our house to talk about God. Because when you tell them you don’t give a shit about what they want to tell you, they’re generally pretty cool about it.

Just last summer I had a couple visit my house. I opened the door and poked my head out, and my stomach, covered with dried BBQ sauce from the previous night, followed. “Hey?”

“Would you be interested in some literature about the Lord?” they asked.

There was no question. I needed something for the toilet later. “Sure.”

“Could we come in for a while to speak with you?”

“Naw. I’ll take the free literature though. Those Awake mags are good fun.”

Reluctantly, they handed over the magazine and I bid them farewell. Free reading material. Minimal conversation. No finger dancing around my steak to chart a path to heaven.

Maybe they would have stayed longer or been more aggressive about sticking around if I would have had a pair of underwear on or something. I like to believe they’re just polite people.

Bellows of the Bone Box

ImageIt has been too long since I’ve been on here. Things have been incredibly busy and there’s a lot to cover in a short amount of time, so I’ll get right to it. 

One of my stories recently found a home in an anthology titled “Bellows of the Bone Box,” published by Siren’s Call Publications. It is my first time working with them, and it was a pleasure. Everyone involved in the publication of this anthology came together to produce the best text possible. My thanks to the beta readers who took the time to help me polish my story.

You can learn more about my thoughts on Steampunk, and check out a preview of my story by clicking right the *%$ here

While the official announcement is still pending, I can say that I have a new book coming out in the near future. The tentative title of the book is listed in the catalog section of the Spectacular Productions website, which you can access by clicking here. The artwork looks really great and should be available in the near future. 

I also had the pleasure of working with Rooster Republic Press this year. They published the first bizarro story I ever wrote in Tall Tales with Short Cocks Vol. III (pictured below). The story, titled “Harry Holden: Zero Man vs. Jimmy Bogardus: BIID Looner, features some of my favorite topics, like BIID and looners (I love me some looners). It was an exercise in my bizarro style that I’m glad finally found a home. I’ve come a long way from the content and style featured in the story, but that’s not to say it doesn’t have merit. The story represents what bizarro meant to me when I first started working in the genre. 

 

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I feel like there was more, but it has escaped me at the moment. I hope 2013 has been as busy and productive for you as it has for me. See you all again soon!

Walking Towards the 8-bit Horizon

After two years without glasses, I finally managed to see an eye doctor a few months ago. I promised myself I’d be honest on the eye exam, unlike my last trip to the DMV when I memorized the sequence of letters before reading them back to the woman at the counter.

I knew my vision was bad, but not third-line-unintelligible bad. After I failed to read virtually all the letters, the doctor slid through various lenses until we settled on a set that brought the world into focus. For the first time in two years, I started to see what I had missed.

Two months later my glasses arrived. Since then, I have been amazed at the things I have seen:

Every light emanating from a house after dark is generally a wide-screen television that is big enough for me to see what they’re watching. I feel like I’m being invited into the homes of my neighborhood every time I drive to the store. Scratch that. I feel like I’m being strong armed into their living rooms to watch shitty CGI family films, MMA championships, and football. There are no refreshments served as incentive for me to feign interest. I’m grateful that the speed limit doesn’t allow for prolonged exposure to their programs, because I would probably watch out of curiosity and subsequently be bored to fucking death.

When I was a child, one of the most compelling elements of gaming was that there were these elaborate backgrounds that the player couldn’t explore. I wanted to hike in the mountains of Ninja Gaiden II. I wanted to go to a theater in Double Dragon II’s skyline. The virtue of 8-bit gaming wasn’t what I could do. It was what I couldn’t do and that limitation’s ability to spark my imagination. I don’t see that in games as much as I used to.

The houses in my neighborhood are the same way. Before I got my glasses, I saw nothing but a blur in the neighborhood windows. I had to imagine the source of the blur. Perhaps it was a fluorescent light used to breed some obscure species of moth that my neighbor was using as his murder signature. Maybe it was a light box and someone in my neighborhood was inking his/her magnum opus: a graphic novel.

Now I see the source of these lights. There’s enough detail to ensure I’m not compelled by what I see inside. The anonymous throng of people who make up my town could easily be a ubiquitous clone of the same person placed in house after house. They’re going through the same motions, watching the same screens. And if you drive long enough, you start to notice patterns, just like you might in 8-bit games or old cartoons like Tom & Jerry where cat and mouse run past the same fridge time and time again.

For some reason all of that disappoints me. Yet I am in complete awe as I stare up at the sky, watching the same stars and the same moon traverse the same pattern every night. Glasses or no, that black canopy above me evokes the same feeling of wonder. No matter how well my sight is, no matter what magnification I view the stars through, I’m mesmerized. I notice patterns there too. Some stars radiate with the same intensity, or waver rhythmically as if the entire universe dances to the same song. But I can’t travel there, which inspires me to imagine what might be if I could. One look up at night and I become a child again. I’m staring into a 32″ screen wondering what it’d be like to walk among the green-tinted wreckage that scrolls through the background of Journey to Silius. My sense of wonder is rekindled, and sight once again inspires wonder instead of apathy.

I want to lay on the rooftop of one of those abandoned buildings and stare up at that green intestinal tubing sky.

In my short time on this planet I have watched so many people who see things clearly become disillusioned. I have fallen into that trap in the past. But from now on I’m following the things that inspire imagination and wonder when I see them clearly. When clarity reveals intricacy instead of simplicity, that inspires me to seek understanding.

When clarity reveals simplicity, perhaps it is a delusion. Something lurks beneath the surface of even the neighborhoods where every 60″ television is switched to Sunday-night football. Sometimes I think simplicity is a personal construct, a horse blinder we create for ourselves to avoid being overwhelmed by the natural intricacy that exists even in repetition and ubiquity. Then again, maybe everything can be boiled down to repetitious actions on a repetitious template. If so, many of us seem to be perfectly fine with retracing our own steps and repeating our own actions.

Speaking of which, anyone remember this video that used to air on Cartoon Network?

The Dirtiest Old Man

Pure Genius

Ah, Ted. I still remember our first time. Your head was bobbing and weaving, either from exhaustion or a severe hangover, and I was on the tail end of a long journey for the internet’s latest filth. I was immediately drawn to the shit streaks on your face, and the hairy duct tape chunks dotting your cheeks, no doubt remnants of a losing battle with genital warts.

Shall I continue? The unkempt hair. Your piercing, yellowed eyes and half-paralyzed face told me you were a worldly man with much wisdom to share. My intuition served me well. This guy not only provides valuable insights into the human psyche, he entertains you while doing it. There’s no dry-as-twice-digested-dog excrement here. You know, the kind of writing you’ll find in Socrates, Kant and other droll bums like that. Pillman cuts through the rhetoric of stuffy old men and gets right to the core of what is important. Below are a few examples of how Pillman sums up the insights of the world’s greatest thinkers in simple songs belched to the melody of a cheap Casio keyboard.

On Humility

“If thou desire the love of God and man, be humble; for the proud heart, as it loves none but itself, so it is believed of none but by itself; the voice of humility is God’s music”

— Francis Quarles , taken from Leadership Now

Behold, God’s music:

On Chastity and Lust

‘Lust is a captivity of the reason and an enraging of the passions. It hinders business and distracts counsel. It sins against the body and weakens the soul.’
                                         Author: Jeremy Taylor (taken from oChristian Quotes)

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The examples go on and on. Stop by Pillman’s YouTube page and check out his brilliance.

Nursery Night Light

Stop by H2RetrO to check out these sweet retro gumball mods featuring classic 8-bit characters, Snorks, and more.

H2retrO

Jack is due to enter the world this January…so naturally I started the nursery back in July. We decked the room out in 80’s cartoons from our childhood. It is now the most popular room in the house.  My favorite addition is this:

I picked up this gumball machine years ago, again with the idea of turning it into an aquarium.  I’ve seen some posts online of folks who have taken the base and placed a fishbowl on top to simulate the glass dome – but I wanted to be authentic.  I ordered a special piece of glass cut, with a twist – I had them put a 1/4″ drill hole in the center.  I was able to thread a tube and air stone through the hole and seal it, so not only is the dome watertight, it has a constant stream of air bubbles to dance in the light…

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