content delivery apparatus


How people find me.

Yahoo: Rick Rojatt
Yahoo: Rick Rojatt (yes. Twice)
Google: rojatt human fly
Google: cerebral palsy bodysuit
Google: "Ryan Yount"
Google: hulk hands porn
Google: Teer porn star
Google: Takeshi Kitano kenny blankenship
Google: eggers guardian plummet
Google: porn
Google: samuel teer
Google: "from this we escape"
Yahoo: mom gave me a handjob
Google: TV-heroine brings decapitated head to pub
MSN Search: governator t-shirt
MSN Search: all about corey and topanga


UPDATE: Didn't puke.

Lawyer thing went well, I'm not tipping my hand about that just yet. Maybe in a couple weeks. But I will say that things are getting mighty interesting these days.


Kinda feel like I'm gonna puke

Lots of activity on the comic book front. Visiting my first lawyer tomorrow. Full update to come soon.


In local news...

7 St. Peters teens may face charges over explicit video

Seven St. Peters high school sophomores who police say made a sexually explicit videotape now may face child pornography charges.

Police found out about the tape, made this month, after one of the boys downloaded a nude digital image onto his cell phone and then tried to sell copies at Fort Zumwalt South High School. Police said he told students that if they liked the picture, he had a videotape with more of the same that they could watch for $5.

(Found by Andi Leggett)


Is this the world's most stupid man?

Tv cameras have captured the agonising moment when a 350lb bull shark attacked a man convinced yoga would protect him from one of nature's most dangerous predators. The shark's razor-sharp teeth tore a chunk out of scientist Erich Ritter's leg as he stood in waters off a Bahamian beach that had been heavily baited with fish parts, it was revealed yesterday.


Give Up The Ghost
Rival Beards United By Fate


Mouth Bees

Driver crashes after bee flies into mouth

DAYS CREEK, Ore. -- A Winston man told police he crashed his car after a bee flew into his mouth while he was singing along with Justin Timberlake's song "Rock Your Body" on the radio.


The Governator: the action figure

figures come dressed in military
attire and "Governator" t-shirt.

(for fuck's sake.)


time conservationalologist

tip #1: brush teeth/check email


Cabin Fever

Didn't expect much, didn't get much.

Would've been a better movie if Corey and Topanga we in it.


Insert "lost head" joke here.

TV-heroine brings decapitated head to pub.

With her former boyfriend’s head in her backpack, the Finish TV-star went bar hopping. She is now charged with a double murder, and her new boyfriend admits to cannibalism.

...According to the prosecuting authority, the TV-star took her former boyfriend’s head as a trophy, and she carried it around in a backpack and showed it to several persons. However, no one imagined that the head was a real.

Another Moment of Silence

Actor John Ritter dead at 54
A Moment of Silence

Johnny Cash dead at 71


Welcome to the new world order.

PITTSBURGH, Sept. 11 — Comedian Tommy Chong has been sentenced to nine months in federal prison and fined $20,000 for selling bongs and other drug paraphernalia over the Internet. Chong will be told in a few weeks where he’ll have to report to prison.


underwhelming and not even halfway finished.

Two days ago I saw a man with a sandwich board drapering his naked, abused body. The board read: "it's the meat that you eat!".

I think I liked city life better when I was still young, dumb, and hopelessly strung about by girls that called themselves "Stephleupagus". The city seemed like the happenin' place to be. A never sleeping, ever changing, culture melting-pot. The parties are loud, the women are hot and fast, and everyone is needlessly cool. These are the images concocted by someone who has never ventured outside of the trailer park version of suburbia, that I grew up in.

Phleupagus was forcibly removed from our high school, for reasons that she never bothered to extrapolate, suffice to say she was "asked to leave". Sometimes in her drunken ramblings she'd let a nugget or two slip. From what I pieced together she was "too smart", "bored all the time", "really just lazy" and an "amazing lay the likes of which you (meaning me) aren't fit to even sniff my (meaning her) panties." A year and series of fast food employment ventures later, Phleupagus had saved up enough cash to move out towards the city, she was ecstatic about this. So much so that she actually threw a rock threw my bedroom window trying to drunkenly reenact some scene from some movie she saw once.

The rock brained me.


Dear nerds, It's fucking Dumbo. - The Mgmt.

Yanked from
originally posted by: "Bastard Shit Man"

"I was a member of a secretive international magical society for five years, and on my initiation to (what I then believed to be) the highest and scariest of its grades, it was revealed to me by my order-superiors that Dumbo – yes, that Dumbo – is in fact an esoteric text on magic, drugs, initiation, and the future of human life on the planet Earth and beyond, Tim Leary/ RAWilson stylee.

I don’t believe that it would be a significant violation of my magical oaths to drop a hint or two concerning the “initiated” reading of this movie. (I bloody well hope it’s not a violation of my oaths – they were pretty darned specific about what the painful and bizarre consequences would be.)

In the story, Dumbo’s mutation is considered to be a useless, freakish handicap. The potential power that Dumbo possesses goes unseen, by him and by everyone else, in the social reality-tunnel of the world he’s born into (the “circus"). He ends up fulfilling the lowest of the roles available to him in that reality-tunnel: the clown; the “butt”, in fact, of the other clowns’ pratfall routines, good only for being on the receiving end of a custard pie (“Shit-Dumbo! Ass-elephant!").

Dumbo then happens to accidently ingest a hallucinogenic drug. A psychedelic vision ensues…his reality-tunnel breaks down…and joining him for the ride is his “familiar”, a set of eyes that doesn’t belong to the circus, a small voice that tells Dumbo a different “story” about who he is…

A gap in memory. And the next thing Dumbo remembers is waking up at the top of a very tall tree. How did he end up here? His “familiar” guesses the truth: He flew. Dumbo has the power of flight. That’s what his big ears are for.

(Huh. That’s funny. The lights in the room just flickered for a few seconds, and the bulb’s making a weird buzzing noise now. …Okay, it’s stopped.)

At first Dumbo finds it difficult to change his perception of who he is; of the extent of his powers. His familiar introduces him to the world of “ceremonial magick”, and with the assistance of a magickal prop, Dumbo manages – without the use of drugs – to fly.

(Shit! The light’s flickering again! Must be something wrong with the fuse-box…the heating seems to be on the blink too, it’s gotten kind of cold.)

Eventually, Dumbo manages to manifest his powers even without the use of the paraphernalia of ceremonial magick.

And the heaviest of animals takes to the sky.

The nightmarish “pink elephants” are just those parts of ourselves – the scary, powerful parts – that we forgot to include when we were drawing the map of who we are.

Ganesha breaks the gravity-chains, smashes through the cages of the circus, soars above the train.

Our starry destiny.

A vision of our Mercury-nature so compassionate, so gently teasing, so *loving*, that it makes me break down crying.

(...On a more sinister note, there are hints in the movie about the involvement of the military in Dumbo's evolution.)

Okay, got to leave it there for now. Someone’s knocking on the front door fairly loud, better go answer it.

Oh, I sure hope it’s not the Secret Chiefs, come to punish me for betraying the order!


(rest of thread here.)


The First Time I Met Charles Bronson

The First Time I Met Mr. Bronson was the night I snuck out of the house to attend a neighbor's bar mitzvah. Amongst the razzle-dazzle of blue sparkling streamers and thunderous sounds emanating from the DJ'S "Dance Party USA" CD that my eight-year old self wandered through the party.

After a number of trips to the punch bowl, some of which wasn't decorating the front my glow-in-the-dark pajamas. I decided that I, too would become a man that night. I would use the Men's room instead of urinating upon myself as per normal.

I threw open the men's room door, my Garfield slippers slightly sticking to the urine-caked floor. I begin to make my way to the first open stall, then I heard it.

It sounded like people. Two people. In a bathroom stall together. My pee-pee dance was quickly overtaken by my natural curiosity as I made my way toward the sounds emanating from the handicapped stall.

I slowly attempted to press my ear against the stall to maybe understand the strange hybrid language of huffing and subtle moaning.

The door swung open, due to not being locked and I found myself on the floor looking up at Mr. Bronson while Brandon (the abnormally tall Jewish kid that a predilection towards basketballs... and sweaters vests.) Cauly's mom gave him a handjob.

Mr. Bronson looked up calmly with his sullen eyes and spoke, "'Eya kid."

A formed a gun with my fingers and winked at him. Then took off like a bat out of hell.

Back at ya, Mr. Bronson. Back at ya.

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futurephone dumping



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