Thursday, April 27, 2006

A Life Sans Mittens

For a fortnight you waited.

And in the cockles of your heart, the warm glow of Mittens had retreated, leaving only the dying embers of a once great fire. Lamas. Kinkade. Ethan Snugglepants. It had been great while it lasted.

"What could Geoffrey possibly be doing?" you said. "Perhaps he's tired of Chocolate Mittens. Perhaps the fickle hand of inspiration has taken flight elsewhere."

You grasped at straws. Looking for an answer. Any answer. "Perhaps he’s turned his litterbox into a zen rock garden. Perhaps he’s curled up on the duvet, writing witty Haikus about naughty Squirrels.”

Well you may burn in hell. I did nothing of the sort, meow.

You see, I’ve been toiling feverishly behind the scenes here at Chocolate Mittens, laying the groundwork for the grand future of this fine establishment. And I assure you, Geoffrey Chocolate does not trifle away the day with small ideas.

In the meantime, you will have to trust in me. I’m not quite ready to share my master plan, but I can say that it will be worth the small inconvenience of two weeks without another arch-nemesis candidate.

Because after all, I have a dream. And my dreams are more interesting and cat-tastic than anyone else’s.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Mittens Down Under!

Please take a moment for this special quiz:

1. Does the water in your toliet spin anti-clockwise?
2. Did the tulip-obsessed Captain James Cook discover your state in 1770, and name it "New Holland"?
3. Are you currently looking to Carrie Bradshaw for the answers to life's little questions?

If you answered yes to all three questions, then check the shameless self-promotion sidebar — there's a treat waiting for you.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Behold! The Sweet Music Of Mittens

Hello my kittens. How is your day going?

I shall answer for you. Your day has just entered a circle of excellence never before reached in the history of days. Why? Because I have created a Chocolate Mittens Theme Song. And you can download it, by clicking the link under Shameless Self Promotion. Unfortunately, the file is hosted at an advertising-infested shittylitter of a website. But I felt this music must be heard.

I have named the song Chocolate Mittens Symphony #1, First Movement (Presto). For your own protection, it is only ten seconds long. Oh, I do hope you enjoy it. Who am I kidding? That last sentiment was a bit of false modesty. It is the greatest musical achievement since Debussy's La Mer.

Happy Listening!

IMPORTANT ARCHIVAL UPDATE!!!
Evidently, my beautiful music has been taken down by the host site. I shall find a new, more suitable home for it's gloriousness. In the meantime, you must rely of the stereo of your mind.

Meow, did I just blow your mind?

Friday, April 07, 2006

If Mr. Plops Ruled The World

They say it is unwise to argue with a fool, because from a distance, no one can tell the difference.

Certainly, this is doubly true when speaking of certain coarse, unwashed individuals who deign to affect the content and character of Chocolate Mittens. A mere cursory reading of this website reveals a level of taste and distinction that must be carefully maintained. After all, my thoughts — and my thoughts alone — are valid and interesting.

Meow, all but the dimmest Chocolate Mittens readers know all of this already. So why mention it? Well my kittens, on the fringes of our beloved beacon lies an individual who seeks to befoul the clear waters of truth. I speak, unfortunately, of Mr. Plops.

His name alone speaks volumes. Tightly gripping the crutch of toilet humor, he seeks to lower the proverbial boon on my beloved Mittens. And I simply cannot allow this to happen. Therefore, after careful consideration, and against my better judgment, I have decided to argue with this aforementioned fool. To repost and respond to his “commentary”.

Referring to the initial announcement of the Chocolate Mittens Arch-Nemesis Selection Special, Plops wrote:


How dare you deny my existence! Verily your greatness would not exist were it not for my equal but opposite greatness by which you are measured. Surely your greatness is only a reflection in the pool of MY greatness! I am the Yang to your Yin. To deny me is to deny yourself!

Sincerely,
-Mr. Plops

4:25 PM


Very well Mr. Plops, you shall have your way. I shall pay tribute to your greatness. But first, being a kind and thoughtful host, I’ll make you feel more comfortable:


There. A cat penis.

Does this level of discourse make you feel more at ease? Perhaps a joke about my reproductive organs exhibiting signs of self awareness and independent thought? That would be a gas!


Yes, we’re sinking fast! But you must still feel bit outmatched, Mr. Plops. Perhaps this will help:



Heavens! That certainly is an impressive display of fecal prowess! Have you ever expelled feces in such a manner Mr. Plops? I have! Oh goodness, I’m becoming lightheaded.

However, I sense you still may not be as comfortable as you would like, sir. Yes, only one thing can take Chocolate Mittens to such a Plopsian level:


Land ho! We’ve finally arrived! This is your chosen milieu, Mr. Plops. The city of your dreams. What you would have Chocolate Mittens become. An eternal parade of penis jokes, litterbox pictorials, and lewd pornography. In short, the only arena in which your greatness could ever equal that of Chocolate Mittens.

In your comment, you wrote “I am the Yang to your Yin.” And in that respect, you are absolutely correct.

But here at Chocolate Mittens, we keep our yangs to ourselves.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Mittens Across America

Due to overwhelming fictional demand, I have created a Geoffrey Chocolate desktop wallpaper, so you can stare at my kitty visage whilst typing away at your electrified computer.

If your name is Kate and you are Chocolate Mittens Fan #1, take a moment to pat yourself on the back. Then watch Mittens for a special New South Wales version, coming soon.

Anyway, if you were a reporter, and you were asking me about what I was thinking while creating it, I would meow a single word: freedom. Then you would be reduced to tears of awe.

Regardless, you can find the wallpaper on the sidebar, under "Shameless Self Promotion."

You're welcome, meow.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Nemesis Finalist #2: Thomas Kinkade, Painter Of Light

Hello my kittens.

Meow, I realize you've all been waiting breathlessly for the next installment of the Arch-Nemesis Selection Special. And I daresay, it will be worth the wait. Truth be told, I filled my litter box out of disgust at least three times whilst writing his entry.

You see, our next finalist is a man so utterly devoid of the basic components of humandom that I neglect to call him a “him”. Nay, finalist #2 is an “it”. A self-locomoting conglomerate of crapulence that somehow acquired the power to reason, and then squandered that reason in an orgy of self-importance, blasphemy and urination. Meow.

Yes, mittens, I could only be talking about Thomas Kinkade, Painter of Light.




So, what possible reason is there to hate Thomas Kinkade? He paints such delightful cottages and lighthouses! He loves Jesus! Well, I’ll give you a reason. In fact, I shall give you eight.

1.
He's a shitty painter.

Though he claims to be “the world’s most collected living artist”, and a master of techniques from Plein Air to Impressionism to Romantic Realism, his paintings are filled with examples of retarded perspective, unnatural lighting effects, and a reliance on saccharine, faux-religious subject matter that so disgusted the late Ethan Snugglepants, he climbed into the mouth of a Crocodile and was eaten. Yes, that’s right. It’s Thomas Kinkade’s fault.


2.
He's a drunken hypocrite who does not believe in magic.

From the start, Thomas built his career on a wholesome image, steeped in a rock-solid faith, and a deep commitment to moral life. In fact, he's so pious, all of his children have the middle name "Christian". Here in reality-land, he's a boorish galoot.

Thomas has a long history of publicly heckling other artists and performers. In sworn testimony and interviews, witnesses recount one evening in which a visibly drunken Kinkade heckled illusionists Siegfried & Roy in Las Vegas, then cursed a former employee's wife who came to his aid when he fell off his barstool.

3.
His business dealings are the perfect illustration of
man’s inhumanity to man.


Thomas “shares the light” in two ways: through his own online store and through franchised galleries. So let’s say you love his work and you want to sell it. First, you must pass a rigorous financial and moral approval process. Then, you are forced to fill your store with mandatory inventory, selected by Thomas. Here’s the rub, my kittens: the inventory often includes art that he can’t sell otherwise. So if he lays a painterly turd, it’s your problem, not his.

Even if you also stock the popular works, you’re forced to sell them at a steep markup from his outlet. If you match his store's price, he takes you to court. This way, Thomas makes a ton of money whether people like his shitty art or not. It’s douchebaggery like this that has caused his company, Media Arts Group, Inc. to be sued over and over again.

Just this year, an arbitration board awarded Karen Hazlewood and Jeffrey Spinello $860,000. Why? Because Thomas' company "[failed] to disclose material information" that would have discouraged them from investing in the gallery. For one franchisee, it was too late. In an L.A. Times article, he claims that Kinkade and his associates drove him to financial ruin, while funneling millions of dollars to their own pockets. Mighty Christian of him, no?

Official accusations include “being pressured to open additional galleries that were financially unviable”, “being forced to take on expensive, unsalable inventory”, and “being undercut by discount outlets whose prices they were not allowed to match.”

No wonder the Career Opportunities section of his website meow says “We are currently seeking a Staff Attorney for our active law department.”


4.
He shortens his name to Thom.

Honestly, if you're the kind of person who reads Chocolate Mittens, do you really need me to say any more?


5.
He does charity work, if only to feed
the insatiable hunger of his giant, bloated ego.


His words, not mine:

“Kinkade's involvement in charitable organizations, along with his appearances on the award winning news broadcast 60 Minutes, as well as Good Morning America, is testimony to the fact that his artwork is touching the hearts of millions worldwide.”


That's right, thanks to Thomas, poor unfortunates everywhere can be touched in a non-sexual way by the painter of light... for a mere $500 per print!

Want more proof? Check this picture out:


That's Kinkade at a Salvation Army Charity event. Yes, when hungry kids come calling, searching desperately for love, shelter, and... oh I dunno... food, Kinkade gives them autographed hats.

6.
His hobbies include "ritual territory marking."

I can think of no better way to explain this than the testimony of Terry Sheppard, a former vice president for Kinkade's company. Evidently, Thomas and a group of synchophants were outside a hotel in Anaheim in the late 1990s, when they came across a statue of Winnie the Pooh. Thomas then dropped his pants, and urinated on the statue, quipping “This one’s for you Walt.”

This was not the first nor the last time he had observed this behavior from his boss. Presumably, the Painter Of Light can see no merit in other people's work, aside from being a convenient place to pee out all the booze he's supposedly too pious to drink.


7.
He’s an uninvited boobie grabber.

Ask Thomas, and he’ll say that he married the love of his life, Nanette, or that he can best be described as a doting father. But when one female fan met him at a Kinkade signing party in South Bend, Indiana, she described him another way.

Namely, as the shittylitter that suddenly decided to cup her breasts when she made it to the front of the line. I say!


8.
He’s a horrible dresser.


So dull, so drab! Why not spruce it up with a subtle floral print? Or a splash of color? Doh de doh de doh. I wear khaki. Doh de doh de doh. For heaven’s sake, you’re the painter of light! Dress like it.


So, there you have it. Thomas Kinkade. Shitty painter. Non-believer in magic. Public urinator. Bad husband. Raging hypocrite. Pompous ass!

Will he triumph? Stay tuned….