That's right

View more great artwork by Brad Neely here

Also check out some funny videos from Brad at superdeluxe.com

Bukakke brand milk

Bukakke brand milk for your face hole.

Tin Man Lyrics

Sometimes late when things are real
And people share the gift of gab between themselves
Some are quick to take the bait
And catch the perfect prize that waits among the shelves

But oz never did give nothing to the tin man
That he didnt, didnt already have
And cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the tropic of sir galahad.

So please believe in me
When I say Im spinning round, round, round, round
Smoke glass stain bright color
Image going down, down, down, down
Soapsuds green like bubbles

Oh, oz never did give nothing to the tin man
That he didnt, didnt already have
And cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the tropic of sir galahad

So please believe in me
When I say Im spinning round, round, round, round
Smoke glass stain bright color
Image going down, down, down, down
Soapsuds green like bubbles

No, oz never did give nothing to the tin man
That he didnt, didnt already have
And cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the tropic of sir galahad

So please believe in me

the dreaded Brain Fuckler

A day in the park makes for some strange diary musings in Baby Cakes' world. In his darkest entry yet, Mr. Cakes reflects on death, dream girls and the dreaded Brain Fuckler that he sometimes sees humping people's faces in public.

Space Talk from Dimension Eugene

The Truth About Smoking Pot

Best Lyrics Ever! Sing Along!

Clap Hands!

I'll clap my hands along, and rattle on like a vagabond
I'll rip my uniform, and bend the floor to the early mornin’
I'll shake your dollar bill, and spend it all before the bombs 'll kill me
I'll save my best for last and after that don't even ask me

Clap hands, that's right
Clap hands, clap hands that's right
Clap hands clap-clap hands

I'll take my broken bell, and make it ring like a million churches
I'll scratch that kind of itch, down in the ditch and switch my plates out
I'll drive to San Francisco, death to disco take my shirt off
I'll swim to Mexico, don't tell the mermaids where I'm goin’

Clap hands, that's right
Clap hands, clap hands that's right
Clap hands clap-clap hands

I'll clap me hands along, and rattle on like a vagabond
I'll rip my uniform, and bend the floor to the early mornin’
I'll shake your dollar bill, and spend it all before the bombs 'll kill me
I'll save my best for last and after that don't even ask me

Clap hands, that's right clap hands, clap hands that's right
clap, clap