Greetings from the Omnigraphic Blogopticon. On view are vile sticky things dragged from the attic, snarky commentary on the world at large, and all-encompassing ennui. All that and a weird rubbery smell. A horrible time will be had by all.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

He Sees You When You're Sleeping

My last post from this location until Monday. I am to be taken away to my homeworld by my genetic relations for experimentation and mutation, then I shall be returned to my place of residence for another attempt at World Domination.

Or something.

I've got bags to pack and a cat to stew up. Ho ho ho. In the meantime, have a close look at what passed for festive Christmas wrapping paper in the 1960s. It was such an innocent time. I present to you: Santa Burgles A House!

"Need a bag? Hang on, I'll just dump this crap out and you can use this one."

"Shhhhhh. You go to the kitchen and get the silverware and I'll check the upstairs."

"What, you never heard of hiding valuables in the underwear drawer? OK, maybe I just like underwear. You got a problem with that?"


Scott said...

Santa should be on a toilet in one of those.

Severina said...

Dude, no. This is 1960s wrapping paper, not one of your sick fantasies.


Crypt Stitch said...

So, 60's Santa is completely sinister, right? Imagine waking up to that in the wee hours...*shudder*.
Merry Yule you, and tip - copious amounts of alcohol makes the enforced familial obligations easier!

Severina said...

Damn. No alcohol in the house. Crap. I'll have to make do with chocolate.

60s Santa was totally sinister, but nobody noticed. Santa got away with murder in those days.

And I wouldn't sit in the old creep's lap, either.