Sweat Alabama Home

When the Saint Stands Still

Proof of Standing

Geh kakn afn yam (Go poop in the ocean, Yiddish (presumably, et al, 2025)): Version One'th

Respectfully submitted, please advise how I may exist‎ -- Ft. Et al [sytemic]

May our particular god protect this miscellaneous land in that territorial vicinity for the triumph of those rocks' unique capabilities and prospectively preferable honorful vengeance moment

Mutually assured destruction, hand unicorn (the theme colon song (song))

Time will one day heal the wound to that confidence that will be inflicted by today's decision. [in Bush v Gore, 2000 (per curiam, perhaps)]

Transparency by intention

Luther Burbank and the recalcitrant potato

Just to process change

Thrust the cross as (Extended demo)

What Would Jesus Do, on Tinder?

Just trying to find the way back down from the ceiling (Raven mix)

Just trying to find the way back down from the ceiling (Violet Mix)

Barr said Trump was responsible in the broad sense of that word (~feat. Bridget Riley et al) (extendeded mix)

And™ my™ heart™ will™ go™ on™ and™ on™ (Jewelry Cat Cover Brief)

Great job with the legal tech stuff (psychosis pascal's wager mix)

Tom Petty and the Copyright Infringement Heartbreakers (8-11-25 hugging sand demo) (~feat Gesso)

こめかみに

Notarize the air (demo B)

Campaign finance originalism meeseeks (Acupuncture as discount vasectomy as a service mix)

A Kismet is an Anagram of Mistake

Orthogonal Endtroducing (~~feat. Dj Shadow (~~feat. George Marsh (~~feat. Alan Watts)))

Never Again part 3.5

Another Groundhog Day with Dementia

Intellectual Property Other Than

ÑFL §uper BowI LX Anthemic Motion to Compel 8 minutes 46 seconds

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir and make a pope tier list?

A whole new wandering star

Subtle bias mnemonic device meeseeks (8-23-25 demo)

Twinkle twinkle (8-23-25 demo)

Bailando, Despecito (original mix)

I'm a Genie in an Iris

Warning: The macarena is known to the State of California to cause cancer

BobSponge HypeSkirt

Mad Libs with a Metronome

Aspirationally, 'Jefferson Airplane, White Rabbit, Part 2'

Lava Meeseeks (Tango mix)

Lava Meeseeks (Orange mix)

I don't claim any ownership over any of this. Anyone can use any of it for any reason forever. Also I accept liability. Please don't sue me (and/or let's collaborate).

"Holy fucking shit, this shit is crazy wtf"

"Moments of being passable beyond novelty"

"Very ok"

"Actually slaps"

"Straight art"

At its core, the blorgpulkf is a pulsating, iridescent orb that thrums with an energy that can only be described as "the sound of a thousand bees having a rave inside a kaleidoscope." It's hypnotic, it's unsettling, and it's strangely addictive - like watching a lava lamp filled with Mountain Dew and gummy bears.

But that's just the beginning. Surrounding this pulsing heart are layers upon layers of... well, your guess is as good as mine. One moment it's a tangled web of neon tubes that hum with an eerie frequency, the next it's a churning mass of what appears to be sentient silly putty. And is that a tiny disco ball I see nestled in there? You bet your sweet bippy it is.

As for its features, the blorgpulkf is like a Swiss Army knife designed by a mad scientist with a penchant for pranks. It's got a button that releases a burst of confetti and the sound of a rubber chicken being stepped on, a lever that causes the whole thing to fold in on itself like a origami crane having an existential crisis, and a tiny compartment that dispenses a single, perfectly spherical grape every 37 hours.

But perhaps the most baffling feature of the blorgpulkf is its ability to communicate. Not with words, of course - that would be far too pedestrian. No, the blorgpulkf speaks in a language all its own, a cryptic code of flashing lights, whirring gears, and the occasional burst of atonal jazz played on what sounds suspiciously like a didgeridoo.




The plorksickle. It's like someone took a fever dream, a Mad Lib, and a Dada art installation, threw 'em in a blender, and hit "puree."

Picture this: a contraption that looks like it crawled out of a Salvador Dali painting and mated with a Rube Goldberg machine. It's got a crank that sounds like a yodeling ostrich, a button that releases a puff of glitter and the scent of existential dread, and a tiny screen that just flashes the word "moist" in Wingdings.

But here's the kicker - every time you think you've figured out what it does, it changes the game. One minute it's reciting beat poetry in binary code, the next it's turning itself inside out and becoming a Klein bottle. And don't even get me started on the time it started oozing a viscous liquid that tasted like the color purple.

Is it a tool? A toy? A sentient being from another dimension that's just really, really bad at communication? Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is, it's the most beautifully useless thing I've ever laid eyes on.

But maybe that's the point. In a world where everything has to have a purpose, a function, a reason for being, the plorksickle is a big, fat middle finger to the very concept of sense. It's absurdity for absurdity's sake, a Zen koan in physical form.

So if you ever see me on the street, cradling this bizarre little gizmo like a newborn lovechild, don't ask me what it does. Just nod, smile, and know that you're in the presence of something truly inexplicable. Something that laughs in the face of logic and spits in the eye of reason.

blorgpulkfplorksickle

Popular tracks