Jesus H. Christ
Artist | Hobbyist | Other

Spain

Don't hurt me!
I'm not going to hurt you.
Stay away!
Darling, light of my life, you didn't let me finish my sentence. I said, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to bash your brains in. I'm going to bash them right the fuck in.


-Jesus Fancy Turkey Jones Christ Christian Hernandez Gonzalez The Third Tres Cuatro Esquire.
- First off, I think we should all face the facts, O.J. killed those people.
- We Are Masters of Our Enemy. Till' There Is No Enemy.
- I am a sh'more whore.
- Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there. *sh'more* It's the jingle, yo.
- I have too many nicknames.
- I wanna be the very best, like no on ever was...
- Got A light skinned friend lookin' like Micheal Jackson got dark skinned friend lookin' like Micheal Jackson...
- Woke up this morning, got myself a gun.
- I crash movie theaters for popcorn.
- I am fond of anime and cartoons. 'cause, ya' know, I'm nerdy like that.
- My grammar skills are not perfect, but they're getting better. If only I could pay attention more...
- I have developed a phobia of deep water, small, enclosed spaces, heights (sometimes), and Slender Man. But everybody is afraid of Slender Man.
- Cold and I don't mix.
- I like to fool around with fire. Just for shits and giggles...
- There is a monster eating my skull. It's called my hair.
- I srsly need to brush up on my art. Because quite frankly it's been failing recently.
- I wanna run a morgue. It's even gonna have a snack bar!
- Chocolate is ORGASMIC. (Literally!)
- I shot the sheriff. Ya' caught me, Skippy.
- I take make-up and do funny things with my face. Can you tell?
- Yeah, yeah. I'm short, I get it.
- I like fun and useless facts.
- I blame communism. And the French.



So, need to know more? Not satisfied? Lacking mac and cheese? Well, then ask sucker. But it costs. 50 BUCKS AND A KIT-KAT BAR. And maybe a happy ending. If you're cute... BUT KEEP MY INFO TO YOURSELF! I can't risk having my personal life leaked out into the open! DO YOU REALIZE HOW MANY PEOPLE I OWE!? It's outrageous! So don't tell anyone, fool! If word gets out, I'll have to skip town, go by a new name, gain a few pounds then shed them with deathly amounts of steroids and health drinks, then shave off my hair and sell it on the Black Market for a cheap easy buck. I'll work as a hitman for some Russian guy name Igor. I'll spend my days hunting down Chinese operatives and going undercover as a traveling salesman selling Norwegian water to the innocent citizens of a strange town somewhere deep in North Africa (wtf are the Chinese doing in Africa?), almost get eaten by the native cannibals, fighting them off with my big stick I got from playing a lion warrior in my school play(Tru fax.), and escaping on a private jet plane set by the president to rescue me (That show sux.) Then after I have successfully landed back in the U.S., meeting Igor in D.C., I receive the Purple Heart. Why? I have no fucking idea.... From there I run freely in my birthday suit, using the Purple Heart as a hair pin. As I bask in my naked greatness, I am confronted with a letter given to me by a man is a strange overcoat and a funny hat. It is a warning letter from my long-time foes, Cthulhu, John McCain, and that one Spanish dude across the way. I send my robot army to attack, paying them in yogurt chips (Do those exist?) I continue onward through the lonely streets of D.C., nekkid, awaiting my plane to Britain to visit some friends *cough* Fate... *cough*. The plane arrives with fresh clothing (Aw man!), warm food, and my fancy pipe. I snuggle myself up in front of the fire (This is a fancy plane). The plane lands, and I am offered to appear on late night telly. After my appearance, I begin to get homesick and call for a plane home. Upon my return I get to have an awesome action-packed show down with James Bond at the airport, defeating him with my laser beam charged with Al Gore's tears. After this great event, I will retire peacefully in Mexico with a cabana boy named Raul, move to Bangladesh and give Raul away as an offering, be chased out by angry fisher men, go back to America, survive on beets and cheap 1950's wine whilst living under a rock in the Grand Canyon, with no source of company except the recordings on my cell phone, and patiently wait for the robot take over to ignite, dying in my sleep from my cell phone mutating and eating my neck, giving my body scraps to it's young microchips. And live... die... happily ever after.


Wow, I have too much time on my hands. I need to get out more. Taxi!





This informant's gotta bounce. CATCH YOU ON THE FLIP SIDE HOMIES.

TEAM PROPELLER HAT SUCKERS.
IN ADDITION TO TEAM CATCHER IN THE RYE HAT.
ALSO TEAM KITTY CAP.

Current Residence: Your bathroom closet.
deviantWEAR sizing preference: M
Print preference: hp
Favourite genre of music: Alternative stuff, Rock, Metal, Gabber, Hardstyle Techno, Dubstep.
Favourite photographer: rehpargotohp etiruovraf
Favourite style of art: Anime, Dark Cartoon
Operating System: system operating
MP3 player of choice: 3PM. Well would you look at that...
Shell of choice: choice of shell
Wallpaper of choice: paper of wall
Skin of choice: My skin, silly.
Favourite cartoon character: Space Core
Personal Quote: "Space..." "RIBBIT." 'MOISTURIZE' 'So this one time at band camp.