Apr 302012
 

We here at Asplenia Studios like art. And we like color, too! So we took the Asplenia Studios logo you know and love, and put together this awesome variation of it as a color wheel!

Click HERE to go directly to products featuring this design.

This design has been made available just in time for you to take advantage of the great sale going on now at the Asplenia Studios (USA) merchandise store

Make a selection of this great design on t-shirts or bags, and enter in the coupon code MOMSTEESBAGS before check out to get 50% off your subtotal!!!

However, this half-off sale ENDS TODAY! So act quickly!!!

(note- this offer may or may not be valid at the international Zazzle sites, please visit your local Asplenia Studios Zazzle Store for more information.

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Apr 292012
 

Going on RIGHT NOW you can save 50% off of your t-shirt or bag purchase at the Asplenia Studios merchandise store (powered by Zazzle).

Simply choose as many t-shirts or bags as you’d like, and enter in the coupon code MOMSTEESBAGS before check out to get 50% off your subtotal!!!

So why not buy your mom a Resisting Tyrannical Government t-shirt, or an Asplenia Studios Curling bag? She’ll love you even more, and will be completely oblivious that you got a great deal on it!

Order now to have it in time for Mother’s Day! And hurry, because this sale ends tomorrow, April 30th!

(note- this offer may or may not be valid at the international Zazzle sites, please visit your local Asplenia Studios Zazzle Store for more information.

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Apr 262012
 

I firmly believe that famous actor Bruce Campbell would be the perfect person to portray Mitt Romney in whatever movie is eventually made about him. Bruce Campbell’s innate ability to portray characters who are self-absorbed, clueless, and lack any semblance of comprehension of the world around them fits Mitt’s personality perfectly.

Let us hope…

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Apr 102012
 

I’m pretty sure that I got children’s books read to me when I was a youngin’. I mean, what parent wouldn’t read children’s books to their kid?

I know my parents loved me (at least, at the time) and that they read to me.

But somewhere along the line there was either a disconnect from what children are supposed, or else a strong influence from what my parents read.

You see, I have no memories of children’s books. I have no memories of mom or dad reading me stories of Pooh or any of that shit.

When my friends were reading Pooh, Suess, and all that stuff for children, I read stories about John Carter of Mars.

By the age of eight I had read The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.

I had completed Asimov’s Foundation series by nine.

In a fourth grade book report, in which we were to portray a fictional character during an “interview” which was conducted by a classmate, I took a paper box, cut a round hole and covered it with red paper so that I could climb inside and hold a flashlight up to it.

Yes. I was the HAL 9000 computer from 2001: A Space Odyssey, and not the one from the movie.

You see, my parents let me be exposed to adult ideas and concepts at a young age. When my 4th grade classmate was “super-cool” because he had the most Cabbage Patch Kids (seriously), I was delving into the existential questions posed by “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep”. I saw Porky’s when it came out. I understood Alien was more than a space-horror movie.

When I was nine the movie Dune came out. The staff at the movie theater were supposed to hand us a print-out explaining all of the strange titles, names, and lingo from the movie. When the acne-riddled boy tried to hand me a copy and I refused him, he tried to explain to my parents how complex the movie was, and how this sheet would help me understand what was happening. My mom said to him (and this memory sticks with me to this day) “Oh, he’s read the book. He actually explains to me what it means.”

What does this have to do with anything? I don’t know. Other than that I am not going to candy-coat shit for my baby. I think the best thing that ever happened to me was that my mom and dad encouraged me to read beyond what a three, four, six-year old should read.

And that my child will be exposed and influenced by the same ideals.

Treat kids like babies and they end up being incompetent fools. They end up being a fourth-grader who owns a lot of fucking Cabbage Patch Kids.

Treat them like the little absorbant sponge-brains they are, and you will be consistently tested, challenged, and confronted. They will be observant, intelligent, ctitical.

One path is easy and produces drones. The other produces human beings.

Guess which one my baby will be.

 

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Apr 072012
 

This will make no sense.

Here’s the thing about babies: We were all a baby once. My anthropolology friends would probably be better suited to provide more detail on this next part* but, at least in recent human history, every baby probably has, at some point in its tiny little existence, been completely and utterly loved and adored by one or both parents. I know that I look at my little baby Vibeke and can’t help but feel an overwhelming adoration and affection for this little creature, as well as a hope that her future is bright, that she never wants for anything, and that she never suffers any of the trials and tribulations that myself or her mother have endured.

Back to the babies, though. Seriously. Think about it. Adolf Hitler’s mom and dad had to have, at one time or another, looked a baby Adolf thinking that he was simply the most precious little thing ever. Charlie Manson’s mother probably held him when he cried incessantly for no apparent reason, wondering what was going through that tiny brain of his. Heck, even Rick Santorum’s parents probably held little Ricky and looked into his infant eyes, so full of curiosity, and prayed that their child would end up to be a good man.

This, in turn, put me into a bit of a crisis mode as I began to think about some of the terrible things I have done to people. Teasing. Spreading rumors I knew weren’t true. Lying. Basically all of the dickish things I never could even have contemplated if I was looking at that person when they were a wiggly jellybean of cuteness and drool and dirty diapers. I mean, what the hell happened to them. They were cute babies once, and then they go and do something that I feel the need to ridicule.

You see, my parents probably thought the same things when they held me as an infant.

Hell, what the hell happened to me. I was once one of these little guys, too. When the hell did I turn into who/what I am now. What compelled me to be a dick sometimes and a nice person others?

I look at my little baby and, of course, there are things I want for her and things I hope to avoid. I hope she isn’t clumsy like her mom. I hope that she doesn’t have ear problems like I do. At one point, in what is probably a damned morbid train of thought, it actually occurred to me that, one day, she will pass away. Which led me to hope that she lives a long and healthy life with little-to-no misery or distress.

I have no idea where this is all going or what it signifies. It must be kind of a bummer since the last post was about death and this one seems like it is about life but turned out to be something out of whack and pretty odd.

Then again, maybe all of these thoughts do culminate in a reflection on, and a celebration of, life. Without that cosmic mystery of life, we would have Hitlers or Mansons or Santorums. I don’t know. I love my little baby girl, and that is all that matters.

I told you all this wouldn’t make any sense.

*However, we all know that anthropology isn’t a real science, right?

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