Good morning. Lo and behold: My DSL is back! Hallelujah! I shed no tear for the retro romance of hearing the nasty screech of the dial-up connection. (Though it does start off one of my more favorite albums—Etienne de Crécy’s Tempovision. Which is not available on iTunes, but you can check out some of the cool videos on YouTube: Scratched, Tempovision, and my personal favorite Am I Wrong.)

We’ve made it through another week and the first month of 2007 is already behind us. Time flies! Though not for Monster 77 and not on a Friday. But more about that in a minute. First, please take a minute to read up on Monster 76:


Now, as I said, it’s clearly not a fun Friday for Monster 77. This looks to be one bored creature. Mind you, it’s hard to create much entertainment for your self without any apparent arms or hands. One wonders how this one got a job at all. Then again, perhaps he don’t need no stinkin’ hands. He does have alternative means of manipulating his environment. (Or should that be “frondipulating”?) Perhaps there is more going on here than meets the eye. Will you please take a look and let me know what you think?


I can’t wait to read what you come up with. For now, I hope you’ll make it through the rest of the work day in one piece and that a mellow weekend lies ahead you. Definitely check in over the weekend if you can. I have a strong feeling that interesting monsters will be waiting or you when you do. Why? Because 344 LOVES YOU


  • Amy
    2 February 2007 1:34 pm

    by the looks of it, 77 has had a long day at the office. i wish him a happy weekend! you too, Stefan.

  • Blue
    2 February 2007 2:52 pm

    Aw shucks…!

  • 2 February 2007 7:38 pm

    Coy Roy’s been redeployd to Funtyme Toys of Illinois. He’s supposed to be overjoyed, but he’s mostly just annoyed. Being an errand boy among the hoi polloi in a factory of toys is just not enough for Roy. He has tasted Hawaiian poi, enjoys a nice cold LaCroix and simply loves a good bok choy. He quit the toys and is currently unemployed, out to find the real McCoy, a day job as ball boy for the White Sox of Illinois.

  • 2 February 2007 9:41 pm

    For the longest time, Glen just sat there. Staring at his computer. Like it would tell him what to do. It wasn’t even turned on. The office was unusually quiet. That’s not accurate. Seven months ago, that statement would have meant something. Now, however, it was quite usual for there to be no sounds normally associated with an office environment. The workplace was without noise because the only one there was Glen. And there was no power, so the soft sound of humming computers was vacant as well. Ultimately, for the last seven months or so, Glen was all alone. And he had no idea why. He simply continued his routine, day in, day out. Trudging home after a day of nothing at the office. Checking the perpetually empty mailbox. Flipping the switch on the TV that wouldn’t turn on, much less have anything to watch. For the last seven months, not a single soul to interact with. Just Glen and his own thoughts. He slumped into his couch, finding it difficult to hold his eyes open. There were people eight months ago to interact with. Years even. Not anymore. Nothing. For seven, long, solitary months.

    Glen was being wheeled down to the new radiological lab for some experimental therapy. Lights passed overhead as his bed was pushed past other patient rooms and nurse stations. Glen lie motionless without exhibiting any reaction as the blinding fluorescence crossed his face.
    “Are you sure this will work, doctor?” questioned the nurse pushing the gurney. The doctor reviewed a chart and with a determined voice replied, “I’d like it to. This radiation treatment might just break his coma. The new lab is pretty much a bomb shelter, though, with the amount of radiation they’ll hit Mr. Darton with.” The nurse looked down at Glen. “What do you think’s been going through his mind these last 2 years?”
    “Who knows really. We just keep talking to them and interacting as best we can in hopes they’ll respond to some form of stimuli. They say coma patients can hear us.”
    Once inside the lap, they strapped Glen under a large machine that looked like two large slabs of metal, with Glen sandwiched between them. The physicians exited the lab to proceed to the control room. Once the lab was sealed, a large commotion was coming from one of the nurse stations. People started gasping and becoming quite alarmed as they stared at a TV mounted to the wall. Seeing a small flash out of the corner of his eye, the doctor turned to face the window. The ensuing shockwave spread across the landscape at break-neck speed. Within mere moments the entirety of the hospital was engulfed in vaporizing death. All except the bomb shelter-like lab. Nothing remained of the immense city but that solitary room. A room no one would find, as dust and debris would bury it for who knows how long. Well… at least seven months — and counting.

  • 2 February 2007 9:44 pm

    This cat is danglin’ and frondin’ chill to the grooves of Mummer’s newest album Soul Organism State. This cat is bustin’ out full throttle, upulled out all the stops, dig. DJ CatScratchFever don’t need no hands, no sure you right.
    You can get down and dangly with the hipsters here:
    SamB! Oh Boy! Unalloyed brilliance!
    welcome back to high speed, Stefan. Another great monster today – and I watched the first video for Etienne de Crécy that you listed – it is GREAT! I’m saving the others for later. Soon I will be listening to my very own Tempovision. Thanks for the music leads!

  • Sue Bebie
    4 May 2008 4:00 am

    Spazierstock Eduardo arbeitet als Callmonster für alte Damen, die einer eleganten Ausgehhilfe bedürfen. Gesprächig ist er zwar nicht der Eduardo, dafür höchst anschmiegsam mit seinem seidenweichen Flauschebart. Auf jeden Fall ist der Ansturm tatteriger Monsterdamen enorm. Alle wollen sie ihn, den strammen Spazierstockmann.

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