THREE-EYED MONSTERS AND TOURISTY GORILLAS MIGHT SEEM WEIRD TO YOU, BUT THEY'RE COMPLETELY NORMAL TO ANY CHILD. AND ILLUSTRATOR MARK BUEHNER. HE'S PROVIDED THE PICTURES FOR SUCH TITLES AS THE ESCAPE OF MARVIN THE APE, MAXI, THE HERO AND ADVENTURES OF TAXI DOG. HE'S A MAN WITH THE MAGIC TO BRING CHILDREN'S STORY CHARACTERS TO LIFE. TASTES LIKE CHICKEN'S ONE-SHOT HAWAIIAN CORRESPONDENT, CÉSAR, SAT DOWN FOR A CHAT.
césar: Was illustration your first calling?

CABO SAN LUCAS, MEXICO (AP) - Tensions continue to mount at Sammy Hagar’s infamous Cabo Wabo Cantina as the club saw its twelfth forcible ejection in half as many days.
31-year-old go-cart repairman Rodney “Hot Rod” Williams had spent the last five years of his life dreaming of the day when he and his underage girlfriend could fly to Mexico and taste the magic of Sammy’s Cabo Wabo Tequila. His dreams were shattered, however, when he was quietly asked to leave the bar by none other than the Red Rocker himself.

Puff Daddy may have dodged the judicial bullet this time, but he still remains guilty. Guilty of shitty music. Guilty of thinking he can rap with that twelve-year-old with a cold voice. Guilty of a shitty clothing line, unless your intent was to look like a low-rent pimp. Guilty of thinking he honestly had a chance with the monumental ass of J-Lo. Guilty of thinking he's all that. Guilty of conspiracy. Conspiracy to con the pop hip-hop fans that he is worthy of their time and money, that Pied Piper of imbeciles. Guilty of fucking up great classic rock songs.

fphatty: Tell the folks out there what you do.
Karma Chameleon: I circle the world daily and sprinkle my magic karma dust. It brings people what’s coming to them.
f: Kind of like the Tooth Fairy?
KC: Yeah. My outfit looks a lot like hers. I can’t wear it too often though-- taffeta tends to chafe.
f: Has this always been your job?
KC: Pretty much, but not always officially. I used to give little snots around my neighborhood what-for when I was growing up. It wasn’t until my twenties when I was officially instated by the World Powers.

It's really dark in here. I can't even see my hands. The ground feels lumpy and tacky; one of my sandals is stuck. Yep. It's pretty sticky. Aside from that I can't tell much more; except that it smells like a Glade Plug-In. Summer Meadow scent, I think.

You know, learning doesn’t just happen five days a week. If you’re like me, education runs deep. 24/7/365. Take last month, for example. I went bowling with some friends in honor of Miss Tina Wells’ birthday. What did I learn? That bowling is the greatest sport ever invented. For starters, they force you to wear stylish patent leather shoes. Sure they smell like a GI’s bootcamp undies, but you get over it when you see how nice you look in them. Bowling is also a rare breed of sport in that you can drink beer while playing. Sweet!

NOTE TO READERS: THIS ARTICLE IS BEST WHEN READ ON THE POT.

THAT RIGHT! YOU NO MISREAD! HULK SMASH!! WHEN LEADER ATTACK HULK WITH GIANT DEATH RAY, WHAT HULK DO? HULK SMASH!! WHEN JUGGERNAUT TRY BEAT UP HULK, AGAIN-- HULK SMASH!! WHEN JEHOVAH WITNESS COME TO HULK FRONT DOOR ON SATURDAY MORNING WHILE HULK TRYING TO ENJOY LOVELY BREAKFAST OF EGGS HOLLANDAISE WITH MANGO AND WINE SAUCE, HULK SMASH!! HULK SOMETIME FEEL HE MISUNDERSTOOD! PEOPLE SAY, "HULK, WHY YOU SO MAD? WHY YOU NOT GET RID OF ANGER IN OTHER WAY LIKE GARDENING, YOGA OR POLITICS?" WELL, HULK TELL YOU WHY!

Since I’ve broken free from that pathetic excuse of a marriage I was in, I’ve realized things about myself and the world that I never had before. It’s amazing when you are in such a horribly deep and negative rut, then emerge from it and get put back into a positive mind-set. I feel like for the past ten months I’ve been sitting on the toilet, straining. Finally, I heard that wonderful “bloop!” and looked in the toilet only to see my ex-husband floating around, waiting to be flushed away forever. Aaahhh, a sigh of relief. Now I can get back to life and doing things for myself.

I was standing in the middle of a field, the air heavy with morning dew. My hands felt warm and sticky, and I raised them to my face, looking at them matter-of-factly as though I were browsing shelves in a liquor store. “Only blood looks just that way,” I thought. Of course I must be dreaming. I was in no pain, therefore the blood was not mine. The sky was just beginning to lighten and it was absolutely still except for the irregular tip-tip-tap-spat-drip of blood splattering the toes of my battered Docs.