Mongrel Studios

Saturday, February 28, 2009

spectrum is green

This is the voice of the dead minotaur.
We know you can hear us, earth men.
You will follow Captain Scarlet down so Tor Bronson can tell you just how much Mongrel Digs Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons.

Captain Scarlet takes the shortcut downstairs. Click to read about how Mongrel Digs it.

Captain Scarlet takes the shortcut downstairs. Click to read about how Mongrel Digs it.

Do you hear us, earth men?
Do you dig?

Love,
the dead minotaur

Friday, February 27, 2009

other end

Lightbulb dies at the end of the corridor.
Only the first to go.
Someday we'll never see the end of it.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Thursday, February 26, 2009

bag it all

All of it, bag the whole thing.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

really good reason to wear shirts

Over yonder there be shirts. Shiny new.
If ever you wanted your nipples to ask you for a really good reason not to end the world, well, this would be one way to get that done.
The other way involves scalpels and voice boxes and lots of tape.
Lots.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

it's not that

It's just that amber light splashed off glass walls and
dripping in your eyes and
swimming 'round
crying out
flailing
drowning.
It's just shadows piled knee-high and thick as gravy and
sloshing down the streets and
eating through
gravel.
It's just echos
regurgitated
mis-translated and
broadcast
live.
It's just paranoia baby.
It's got nothing on us.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Monday, February 23, 2009

ba-da wee oh waah ba ba-da

wee oh waah ba ba-da
wee oh waah ba
ba-da

Ba! Ba! Ba! Ba! Ba-da!

Love,
the dead minotaur

Sunday, February 22, 2009

ask 'em to show you

So in 1969 this 14-year-old kid snuck into John Lennon's hotel room in Toronto and coaxed him into doing an interview.
Then some people drew all over it and it got nominated for an Oscar and it's pretty great so here it is:

It's about everything. It's all there.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Saturday, February 21, 2009

the blinds

Enough leaves fell away to see through the trees.
Windows over there.
Can't make out where the building stops and starts, but the sun hits the windows just before noon.
Something moving in there. Billowing.
Dark like smoke.
Every day though.
Wonder if it's got anything to do with the *****.
Or that rumble at night.
Or why the blinds won't shut anymore.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Friday, February 20, 2009

one way to kill a werewolf

This isn't it.

Dynamite down Wolfman's pants in Monster Squad

If you wanna pass the Monster Test, you better study up.
Let Jared help you.
Let Jared tell you how Mongrel Digs Monster Squad.
Then let's all go back to Scary German Guy's place for pie.
Go squad!

Love,
the dead minotaur

Thursday, February 19, 2009

bag'll do it

Bag'll do... just fine.

Just fine.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Fhhhhhh

Labels: sketch

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

it moved!

It was hiding in the pile of leaves outside my window, months and years, ever since there's been windows.
Now it's out in the open.
Now it's closer.
To the window.
To us.
The nerve.
Of that ball.
That basketball.
It's moved or been moved.
The top-side that faced the sun all these months is bleached the color of sand.
Like a beach.
Bleached beach-y.
And still it faces skyward.
The nerve.
I've got my eye on you, ball.
All of it. The whole eye.
On you.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Monday, February 16, 2009

new ma tick

Cut cut cut rough,
gone pain-slick,
sittin' pretty up on the verge, then all's sudden-like:

Must be one of those Mon-Days.

Eyes slide-ways, pully on up babba babba.
Gone real billy club.
Dine oh might.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Sunday, February 15, 2009

where you go draggin

Wanna go go go but can't can't can't.

lamp go to heaven go go go

There you go lookin like your goin
but you've always been more look than go
you lamp.

Oh I know your go.
All your go.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Saturday, February 14, 2009

yes there is a really good reason

Happy Valentine's Day.

First of many.
Starting this Monday, it'll be every Monday.
Right here.
Because you deserve it.
For what you did.
You didn't think we'd forget.
Ooooh.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Friday, February 13, 2009

and now the grand tor

I just now heard the echo of what I'd been screaming the other day, something something something about some schedule? Well that just flat-out reminds me. Reminds the living snot out of me. Which is just great, 'cause I could use the extra room.
So Fridays are now officially Mongrel Digs days.
Why?
Because Mongrel Digs Fridays.
Not for the usual reasons.
After all, we here at Mongrel hold a fairly liberal view of time.
A wise man once said, "The only reason for time is so everything doesn't happen at once."
We're not so sure it isn't anyway.
But Friday is my favorite day to scream.
Try it. It's fun.
FRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-DAY!
Beats the living snot out of screaming Saturday.
Which is just great, 'cause who said snot had a right to life anyway?
Before we get too deep into snot rights issues though, let's send out a warm and cozy welcome to Tor Bronson, presenting his very first Mongrel Digs on some of the lesser-known films featuring the superheroes of summer '08.
Tor was involved in some Mongrel Pictures' films.
Consequently he prefers anonymity.
We don't blame him. I mean, look at Mongrel.
All this talk about snot.
That's icky.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Thursday, February 12, 2009

bags for you

I've been alerted that change is afoot. Not a foot, like my foot. Or your foot, with all the nubby little toes.
What's with those? Those nubby little toes?
Nubby nubby nubby.
Who knows.
But so now all of a suddenly we're on a schedule so you'll know when's what to expect whenever it's when whatever happens.
So that's something.
For instance.
Smiling Bag-Time Jamboree will now be taking place every Thursday.
So if you don't know what day it is, come on over to Mongrel Studios.
If paper bags smile at you, why dog gone it, it must be Thursday.
(dog gone it? gone what? how?)
Stay tuned as more of the schedule is arbitrarily assigned through the fine art of old-timey erotic dance interpretation and critical dialysis.
It's all very scientsual.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

mouth pulled right out

Take your face.
Squish it up.
Like this, sqiiiiiiiiiiiiish.
Sqiiiiiiiish.
How was it?
Now stretch it apart!
Like this, striiiiiitch.
Striiiiiiitch.
How was it?
Did you hear the bells?
RINGING?
That's good.
That's what's supposed to happen.
If it didn't do that, then we'd be in trouble. Oh.
My. Wouldn't we.
Now.
Go find a friend.
Take their face.
Take it. Just

Take it.

You know what to do.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

life's a beach

It's full of sand.
Or maybe it's just a wasted state.
Or both.
There's enough sand for both.
Why, there's enough sand for all of us.
We can all be filled with sand and when it gets hot we can all be filled with glass.
GLASS.
I am so down.

Love,
the dead minotaur

PS: This Valentine's Day, we've got a Really Good Reason for you to come on over. Oh yes we do.

Monday, February 9, 2009

day lick

You ever make up your own letters? I do. My alphabet's like five times bigger than average.
It's huge.
Anytime I whip it out, people just gasp.
I'm told it's impressive but perhaps a bit unwieldy.
My favorite made-up letters have lots of squiggles.
Not so many dots. Where's the flair in dots?
I suppose it's in the pronunciation.
Take Dälek for example.
If you're like me, you pronounce that word all sorts of wrong.
If you're like me though, you're also a dead minotaur.
Don't be like me.
Be like Lance.
Go read his very first entry into Mongrel Digs and learn to say Dälek like an honest-to-gosh real-life Lance.
Don't be like me with my massive, swollen, made-up alphabet.
It's my bear to cross.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Sunday, February 8, 2009

we keep hiding behind faces, damp

If all reality is subjective then we all are as we appear to be to anybody at any given time.
That's why I only appear before sycophantic blind-deaf-mutes on party drugs.
Consequently I don't appear often but, when I do, I feel AMAZING.
And strangely damp.
Not like this new Smiling Bag-Time Jamboree.
There's nothing strange about its dampness.
Its dampitude is inherent.
Go get yourself some of that inherent dampitude.
It's damptastic.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Sunday, February 1, 2009

is that bag smiling?

I don't know about this you guys.

You do what you like, but I've got a feeling about this.
Feels like kneecaps sliding above the belt.
Beyond the belt.
Where are they going?
Is that humming?
Is it...
I don't know.
Maybe it's just me.

Love,
the dead minotaur

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