There are two main things that humans use animals for. Their meat and their skin. Human babies lack neither of these and if you have ever touched a baby you know well that their skin is fair soft. As for the meat all you have to do is ask a cannibal what they taste like, and really you do not even have to do that, I mean, they must continue their cannibalism for a reason. There is also the nice little fact that since we would be using human babies instead of animals PETA would have nothing to complain about and go away.

Animals are usually raised to maturity on farms and require care and attention. Babies however are already sometimes grown from test tubes and only have to age a little before they can be used for their resources. The other option is to create farms that just have large numbers of women who are just eternally pregnant. That could even be doubled for use as a milk farm or used to sell the baby products at higher prices due to them being all natural.

Possibly the best reason to use babies instead of animals is that instead of having to protect all the endangered and even the non-endangered animal species out there we can just let them die off or even help the process along. This means no longer having to dedicate valuable resources to protecting these animals or their habitats. This means humans can have the whole planet to themselves. This leaves us free to expand even more as a species and eliminate the risk of overpopulation for a while longer. Of course, the fact that we would also be using babies for food and clothing, among other things, would also help with population control.

Due to babies having all the necessary elements for what humans use animals for, as well as easily and relatively quickly being able to be grown in farms or test tubes, removing the need to maintain other species, and helping limit overpopulation it is perfectly feasible for humans to use their babies for what they currently use animals. In fact it is actually quite logical to do so.

Sometimes Joey Comeau writes novels, too. Great novels. Bible Camp Bloodbath is his latest one.

The book is about this kid, Martin, who decides to go to Bible Camp to stop being a burden to his mother, a special effects artist for horror films, specializing in gore miscellanea. Evisceranea. Bloodpourri. I don’t know, I’m bad at those.

Martin is somewhat excited to be going to bible camp, to meet new people etc etc. But, of course, this turns out to be no normal trip to bible camp. What follows is a particularly poignant coming-of-age story as Martin learns to build relationships, how to macramé, and, along the way, opens his heart up to God and the Bible.

Oh wait, no, wrong book. Scratch that last paragraph. Martin goes to bible camp and all of a sudden lots and lots of people are killed. Easy mistake to make, though.

In each of his novels, Joey Comeau unpretentiously touches upon subjects many authors are hesitant to approach with a ten-foot pole, or anything else particularly long and phallic. Bible Camp Bloodbath is no exception. From murdered children to… well, I mean, why don’t you just read it? Don’t make me do all the work here.

It’s a really fantastic book and I enjoyed it quite a bit. Some other reviewers said that it was too short, but I think it was just about right for what it is. It was certainly a fast read, but delightfully so.

Did I just call it delightful?

Yes, sure, Bible Camp Bloodbath is a very delightful read. It filled with me warm fuzzy feelings as I reached the end. Then I cried a little bit.

You can find the book on Amazon, or on this blog where Mr. Comeau is posting a chapter a day. It’s probably all up by now. Go read it and buy it and love it.

Coming Soon: Awesome Things.

Snooooooooooop..

Snooooooooooop..
When the pimp’s in the crib ma
Drop it like it’s hot
Drop it like it’s hot
Drop it like it’s hot
When the pigs try to get at ya
Park it like it’s hot
Park it like it’s hot
Park it like it’s hot
And if a nigga get a attitude
Pop it like it’s hot
Pop it like it’s hot
Pop it like it’s hot
I got the rolly on my arm and I’m pouring Chandon
And I roll the best weed cause I got it going on
Uh! I’m a nice dude, with some nice dreams
See these ice cubes, see these Ice Creams?
Eligible bachelor, million dollar boat
That’s whiter than what’s spilling down your throat
The Phantom, exterior like fish eggs
The interior like suicide wrist red
I can excercise you, this can be your Phys. Ed
Cheat on your man ma, that’s how you get ahizzead
Killer wit the beat, I know killers in the street
Wit the steel that’ll make you feel like Chinchilla in the heat
So don’t try to run up on my ear talking all that raspy shit
Trying to ask me shit
When my niggaz fill ya vest they ain’t gon pass me shit
You should think about it, take a second
Matter fact, you should take four B
And think before you fuck wit lil skateboard P

When the pimp’s in the crib ma
Drop it like it’s hot
Drop it like it’s hot
Drop it like it’s hot
When the pigs try to get at ya
Park it like it’s hot
Park it like it’s hot
Park it like it’s hot
And if a nigga get a attitude
Pop it like it’s hot
Pop it like it’s hot
Pop it like it’s hot
I got the rolly on my arm and I’m pouring Chandon
And I roll the best weed cause I got it going on
I’m a gangsta, but y’all knew that
Da Big Bo$$ Dogg, yeah I had to do that
I keep a blue flag hanging out my backside
But only on the left side, yeah that’s the Crip side
Ain’t no other way to play the game the way I play
I cut so much you thought I was a DJ
[scratches] “two!” – “one!” – “yep, three!”
S-N double O-P, D-O double G
I can’t fake it, just break it, and when I take it
See I specialize in making all the girls get naked
So bring your friends, all of y’all come inside
We got a world premiere right here, now get live!
So don’t change the dizzle, turn it up a little
I got a living room full of fine dime brizzles
Waiting on the Pizzle, the Dizzle and the Shizzle
G’s to the bizzack, now ladies here we gizzo

When the pimp’s in the crib ma
Drop it like it’s hot
Drop it like it’s hot
Drop it like it’s hot
When the pigs try to get at ya
Park it like it’s hot
Park it like it’s hot
Park it like it’s hot
And if a nigga get a attitude
Pop it like it’s hot
Pop it like it’s hot
Pop it like it’s hot
I got the rolly on my arm and I’m pouring Chandon
And I roll the best weed cause I got it going on
I’m a Bad Boy, wit a lotta ho’s
Drive my own cars, and wear my own clothes
I hang out tough, I’m a real Bo$$
Big Snoop Dogg, yeah he’s so sharp
On the TV screen and in the magazines
If you play me close, you’re on a red beam
Oh you got a gun so you wanna pop back?
AK47 now nigga, stop that!
Cement shoes, now I’m on the move
Your family’s crying, now you on the news
They can’t find you, and now they miss you
Must I remind you I’m only here to twist you
Pistol whip you, dip you then flip you
Then dance to this motherfucking music we crip to
Subscribe nigga, get yo issue
Baby come close, let me see how you get loose!

When the pimp’s in the crib ma
Drop it like it’s hot
Drop it like it’s hot
Drop it like it’s hot
When the pigs try to get at ya
Park it like it’s hot
Park it like it’s hot
Park it like it’s hot
And if a nigga get a attitude
Pop it like it’s hot
Pop it like it’s hot
Pop it like it’s hot
I got the rolly on my arm and I’m pouring Chandon
And I roll the best weed cause I got it going on

Snooooooooooop.
Snooooooooooop..

Note from Ben: Welcome the latest contributor to St. Timmy Pro, Edward “Sora” Ortega. Is he the most talented of us all? Only time will tell. (But I think the answer’s probably yes.)

Screw permits.

Seriously.

They make those stupid tests to give you a god damn aneurysm. Its like you’re at the computer and its all “blah blah blah” and you’re like “oh, A” and it’s all “WRONG INCORRECT YOU’RE STUPID GTFO MY DMV” and you cant help but cry as you fail the test slowly yet surely. The damn test is designed specifically for the person. See, me, I get more nervous as I get things wrong. And the test was all like “WHATS THIS SIGN MEAN” and I’m like “YIELD” and it’s all “NOPE WRONG NOW YOU’RE GETTING SCARED HUH? HOW ABOUT THIS! IF YOU’RE ON A FOUR WAY INTERSECTION AND THERE’S ONE PERSON IN EACH LEFT HAND LANE AND SUPERMAN IS FLYING OVER THE CITY FIGHTING A METEOR, WHO HAS THE RIGHT OF WAY!!?!?!” AND I’M ALL “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD”

Superman, of course.

BUT NOPE ITS THAT BLIND GUY THAT THEY DON’T EVEN TELL YOU ABOUT WHO RETRACTS HIS GOD DAMN CANE AND YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT MEAN “OH I’M STUPID AND WANTED YOU TO THINK I’M CROSSING ITS OK THOUGH GO” AND YOU’RE ALL *WAITING FOR HIM TO CROSS* LIKE A JACKASS AND THE TEST IS ALL “HAHA YOU’RE STUPID NOW I’M GONNA BUST OUT SOME CALCULUS ON YOUR WHITE ASS.

I hate permit tests.

Did I mention I got my permit?

Wake Up – Arcade Fire

Anyway, awhile ago I was uploading some pictuahs (as Alfred Hitchcock would say it) to my flickr, and I was like, “Dang, these would look so much better on a black background”.

And I knew I had seen a service that had done something like that, where you just connect it with your flickr account, it does some magic, and your pictures show up on a black background, giving you a pretty link to pass around.

So I packed my things — all the essentials –  and went on an expedition about the world wide web to attempt to find this service. I found one, but it refused to connect to my flickr account because my username is different than my flickr.com/skjf name (because I was an idiot awhile ago, long story). So that was out. I found another that seemed promising, but it wouldn’t load the second page.

I think I only found two things, and by this point the food I had packed before I set out was beginning to seem a rather small amount. I’d either have to begin hunting and gathering, or I’d need to begin the journey back home.

I did one last search around the area for any other options, but there were none to be found and I went on my way.

When I returned to the haven of my home, I decided hey, how hard could it be to make something like this. It’s just an image over a black background… but I didn’t to handcode a new page each time I wanted my majesties to be beheld, for the same reason I use twitpic and images hack us sometimes rather than use my gazillions of gigabytes of storage here on St. Timmy Pro: because I was lazy.

So, of course, to satisfy my laziness, I set about writing a HIGHLY COMPLEX SCRIPT to do shizz for me.

Viola. The string instrument:

ON BLACK.

You’re welcome, internet.

(oh and, here’s, some, examples of it in action.)

Keyboards are awesome. Keyboards are really freaking awesome.

Have you ever used a computer keyboard before? Because if you haven’t then you really, really should. Because no matter how much you use a keyboard, all it does is get more awesome. The keyboard market operates the same way as the housing market, in that the longer you have a keyboard, the more it’s worth. Yeah, that’s right, keyboards actually appreciate in value. Crazy, huh? I bet you had no idea.

It’s also like the housing market in that people buy them, modify them to be better and then sell them for a profit. It’s called flipping. The thing is, when the housing keyboard market became a catastrophe, everyone stopped buying them, causing the people trying to flip said keyboard to suffer a devastating loss.

There’s a keyboard next door that these people have been trying nonstop for the last, like, three years to sell. They keep coming back again and again and adding to the keyboard, so there’s been, like, nonstop construction. It’s kind of annoying, really. Constant… stuff… and noise, etc etc.

I think now they’re renting it out… one of our neighbors said they were renting it in parts… so the current inhabitants get the bottom half numpad or something, and they’re trying to lease off the rest.

ANYWAY. The point I’m trying to make is that computer keyboards are awesome, and don’t even get me started on music keyboards… because they’re rad too. Or something.

I don’t even know, you guys. I think I’ve gone crazy.

So sometimes I write some things. Inside the Monster’s Dollhouse is a place  where you can go and read some of these things.

Go check it out! Original music by Sir Quinn Jarvis Holland and Sir Madame Jordyn Reeser that is awesome and hardcore and that I’m thinking I should turn autoplay off on because that pisses some people off and makes it take forever to load on my computer.

But regardless.

Go check it out! It is unequivocally hardcore!

-Benjamin

BY THE WAY, STP V3! COMING INCREDIBLY SOON!

I decided to test it out.

To start I made this simple track using an 8-bit synthesizer emulator shizznugget:

And then I stuck in my words:

(click)

and I got this

Which pretty much captures the way I feel at the moment.

You’re welcome for sharing.

Honorable Mention:  Cosmic Egg – Wolfmother

Honestly, I thought this album was boring. I tend to listen to the first half and then turn it off because it’s just not very gripping. It even extends into the technical side. The drums aren’t mixed right, or loud enough or something, and his vocals aren’t as powerful as they were in the band’s debut.

Basically, it seems kind of like a Black Sabbath wannabe album, borne from the departure of two of the original three of the Wolfmother line-up. It’s very heavy metal and… well, like I said, boring. New Moon Rising is probably the best track.

I only mention it honorably because it’s Wolfmother, and I still count them as one of my favorite bands.

Honorable Mention: Raditude – Weezer

Okay, so I only just got around to listening to this, somehow, even though it came out last month and even though I love Weezer. I don’t know what I was thinking.

And, um, well, it’s okay, you know.

It’s definitely not their best though, but hey, it’s Weezer. Weezer will always be pretty great.

Am I the only one who got a very self-destructive vibe from this? Like Rivers is just needing some help or something before he destroys himself. I dunno, maybe I was just in a bad mood when I listened to it.

5. Baby Darling Doll Face Honey – Band of Skulls

True story: when I first heard the song “I Know What I Am” on the radio in the car, coming home from the library, I turned to my sister and said, “Hey, this is the Dead Weather!” (number 4 on this list.)

And then, of course, I realized that it wasn’t. When I got home, the first thing I did was look to see who it was, and, apparently, it was Band of Skulls.

This album is very good.

4. Horehound – The Dead Weather

Jack White from everything and the White Stripes and Alison Mosshart from the Kills (and Dean Fertita from Queens of the Stone Age and Jack Lawrence from The Raconteurs) in a supergroup of epicity. And it’s interesting, because you can totally tell when Jack White’s on the drums. It just has this bluesy swing to it that fits his style so well.

3. Them Crooked Vultures

What happens when you put Dave Grohl (Nirvana, Foo Fighters), John Paul Jones (Led Zeppelin), and Josh Homme (Queens of the Stone Age) all in a band together? No, don’t answer that was hypothetical. And you already know the answer. Stupid.

Them Crooked Vultures is like a combination of Led Zeppelin and Franz Ferdinand that ends up sounding a bit like The Raconteurs. Needless to say, it’s pretty great.

2. Shaka Rock – JET

Shaka Rock is pretty dang good, all classic JET, Beatles-y, great music. I don’t have a lot to say other than, yeah, really good.

1. Humbug – Arctic Monkeys

This is a fantastic album by a fantastic band. The Arctic Monkeys are Midas when it comes to music. I’m pretty sure they’re incapable of producing anything that sounds like crap. They could have an entire track of fart sounds and nails on a chalk board (so a Jonas Brothers cover) and it would come out being better than anything else on the radio.

Humbug is the Arctic Monkeys’ Doors album. The influence is pretty obvious. I mean, first off, all the tracks are about six times slower than average Arctic Monkeys tunes, and very psychidelic sounding. And Alex Turner’s voice takes a turn for the Jim Morrisonish.

Humbug is the Arctic Monkeys’ In Utero.

And that’s all there really is to say on the matter.

–

I was going to include Cage the Elephant, but apparently their album came out last year, so whatever.

Hello, my name is Joe, Joe Kolophegis. That’s not my real name, but everyone calls me that. I have no idea why. Maybe it’s because that’s what I tell them to call me. Last Monday something magical happened…

…I got magical powers. I have no idea how, but I did. I pointed to this broccoli and in my mind I was wishing that it was a cake and it turned into a big three-layered carrot cake!

On Tuesday I made it so we had world peace that was really cool. The next day, Wednesday I made it so we had natural powered cars. Finally on Thursday I made it so that everyone in band played really well, which we already did. That’s stuff I wanted to happen.

But on Friday, something terrible happened. I zapped myself to the thing that gave me powers and he took them away. It was some creepy old guy.

I figured out having magical powers may not be all that good, because you could do bad stuff with them, so I don’t want magical powers anymore. It would have gone to my head anyway. Yesterday I’m sure I saw my sister’s celery disappear! Mary, I salute you.

Needless to say, this blatant display of lack of ability infuriated me. What are you doing trying to write stories, 9-year-old self? Don’t you know that that’s a big people’s craft? Bad past self, bad! And just in case you don’t believe me I’ll just do the honors of picking apart this sorry attempt at fiction and tear down any illusions of talent you may have had.

So first off, that name thing.  “Some people call me Joe, and I don’t know why, maybe ’cause I tell them to.” Of course. Thank you for letting us know. That was vital to our understanding of this shitty story. If I hadn’t known why some people may or may not call you something, none of this would have made sense. And that’s sarcasm. It would have made so much sense it was coming out of your ears. Well, no, not that much, but you get the point.

And then that segue between the first and second paragraphs. You’re all, “Wait for it wait for it…” and then there’s absolutely no enthusiasm when you pay it off. “I got magical powers.” Period.  Monotone. “It is your birthday.” And I know it’s not just because you were for some crazy reason against the use of exclamatory expression, or because you were very confused about what interjections were and the religious connotations in that School House Rock song, because you turn right around and exclamify as soon as you get your stupid freaking carrot cake.

On Tuesday you made it so we had world peace? That was really cool, huh? Just really cool. Very nice. And on the next day you magicked in some natural-powered cars. What are you trying to prove here, kid? Are you trying to win a Nobel prize with this crap? Are you gonna make some people  and then take a day off to rest on the sabbath? I mean come on.

And then on Thursday you made it so everyone in your band could play really well, even though they already did. Nice job, Sherlock, way to waste a day on a frickin wish that had already been granted. Basically what you just did was you negated all the hard work and practice all your bandmates put into their instruments and instead stuck in your magic.

Annnd on Friday. You decided that you would zap yourself to the source of your power… and then what? Chat about magic? Ask to go to Hogwarts? And the creepy old guy who is the keeper of the magicianship just, what, took it all away? Did you, like, piss him off or something? Or is the creepy old guy just as annoyed at things you’ve written as I am?

Either way, nice job losing your power in less than a week. That’s probably some sorta record.

And finally, what are you trying to imply with that last paragraph? That your sister suddenly got magic too? But she clearly wasn’t silly enough to think that writing some stupid story about it was a good idea.

So Mary, I salute you. Good job.

That was dumb, sorry.