02/05: Inferno's own Sitarbob
Wobble Advertising, in association with AC/DC Graphicuss is proud to present Millville Arts District Business Slogans!
The Artist House -
I was framed by the Artist House.
Artisan Sign Works -
Hey Baby... What's Your Sign?
Madrigal -
We're worth our Salt (lamps).
The Looking Glass Cafe -
Come see yourself in the Looking Glass.
Before and After Spa -
At least You look better
than when You got here!!!
Incredible Bulk -
Think Quantity. Not Quality.
The Artist House -
I was framed by the Artist House.
Artisan Sign Works -
Hey Baby... What's Your Sign?
Madrigal -
We're worth our Salt (lamps).
The Looking Glass Cafe -
Come see yourself in the Looking Glass.
Before and After Spa -
At least You look better
than when You got here!!!
Incredible Bulk -
Think Quantity. Not Quality.
19/02: True Crime Tales
My name is Pelonius...Pelonius Monk - Insurance Investigator. The story I am about to tell is true.
I'm at the local watering hole in Jerusalem, having a glass of wine with a couple of old Centurion buddies of mine. I used to be on the force 'til a knee injury sidelined me. Now I investigate insurance claims. Seemed like a lot of Jewish lightning was happening in ol' Hebetown, so I was as swamped as Jackie Gleason in a kayak. Oh... I forgot... Jackie Gleason isn't born yet. Scratch that reference.
Anyhow, my buddies get a call to go to the Jewish Temple over on the West Side. They have this radical called Hey-Zeus or something over there and a whole mob is fixin' to go at him. He's been going around proclaiming himself King of the Jews like some kind of Howard Stern (oh, damn...did it again!) and Herod and his boys are none to happy. If Rome gets wind of it, they ain't gonna be overjoyed either.
So we goes on over to synagogue but they left already. The mob has smacked him around a little and took him to go see the Don... I mean Pontius Pilate. We head over to Pilate's office just to find out he sent him back to be handled as a "Jewish matter".
My knee is screaming like my first wife when I used to come home from the gladiator fights reeking of cigars, so I grab a donkey back over to the Temple.
I'm at the local watering hole in Jerusalem, having a glass of wine with a couple of old Centurion buddies of mine. I used to be on the force 'til a knee injury sidelined me. Now I investigate insurance claims. Seemed like a lot of Jewish lightning was happening in ol' Hebetown, so I was as swamped as Jackie Gleason in a kayak. Oh... I forgot... Jackie Gleason isn't born yet. Scratch that reference.
Anyhow, my buddies get a call to go to the Jewish Temple over on the West Side. They have this radical called Hey-Zeus or something over there and a whole mob is fixin' to go at him. He's been going around proclaiming himself King of the Jews like some kind of Howard Stern (oh, damn...did it again!) and Herod and his boys are none to happy. If Rome gets wind of it, they ain't gonna be overjoyed either.
So we goes on over to synagogue but they left already. The mob has smacked him around a little and took him to go see the Don... I mean Pontius Pilate. We head over to Pilate's office just to find out he sent him back to be handled as a "Jewish matter".
My knee is screaming like my first wife when I used to come home from the gladiator fights reeking of cigars, so I grab a donkey back over to the Temple.
21/12: Advice for the Lovelorn
Just in time for Valentine's Day, It's...........
Advice for the Lovelorn by Uncle Carmine
Hey Scumwads!!! It's your Uncle Carmine writing to you from the Federal Correctional Facility in Fairton, NJ. Most people wouldn't brag about such circumstances but I just want to make it clear that I ain't no frikkin' rat!!! The Feds got me in here on some trumped up beef, but if my Hebe lawyer, Shyster Shylock, ever gets back from his High Holy Day vacation (or whatever phony holiday those bagel eaters made up), I should be outta here in less time than Pamela Anderson's latest marriage.
Advice for the Lovelorn by Uncle Carmine
Hey Scumwads!!! It's your Uncle Carmine writing to you from the Federal Correctional Facility in Fairton, NJ. Most people wouldn't brag about such circumstances but I just want to make it clear that I ain't no frikkin' rat!!! The Feds got me in here on some trumped up beef, but if my Hebe lawyer, Shyster Shylock, ever gets back from his High Holy Day vacation (or whatever phony holiday those bagel eaters made up), I should be outta here in less time than Pamela Anderson's latest marriage.
