Experiments

The Experiments

experiment #1: Mr. Square

A Black Comedy, Dada Comic that has haunted the internet since 2009. It stars the titular character “Mr. Square”, a clinically depressed doodle and a pathologically enthusiastic sheep as they make their way through a terrifying, existential, and often inconsistent landscape. According to its disclaimer, the comics are “…not proofread, and may have been created outside of sobriety” and that “the artist has little recollection of what they are about”. The image below will take you to a random comic. No, there is no other way to read them.

Not for the sound of mind.

experiment #73

Disclaimer: The following comic has been randomly frankensteined together from 2484 unrelated panels. It will change every time you load the page. Look lively!

Random Image Random Image Random Image

experiment #3.145: Average Pizza Cook

BEHOLD! Cower at the site of the sheer raw power of Fitzgerald’s supercomputer as it simulates life!

experiment #4: Fear and Loathing in Casino Night Zone

Reenacting literature with the Sega Genesis and a Super Nintendo was a bad idea. Hosting it on a resurrected Geocities page was even worse. This experiment might be the only time the mad doctor Reverend Fitzgerald showed constraint and put a bullet into it before more than one could be released. The reenactment of Orwel’s 1984 with Super Mario Bros remains locked away forever. The image below will take you to Fear and Loathing in Casino Night Zone:

experiment #754-B: The masses

Monitoring the public and its reaction to the PSYOPs comics is an important task. For reasons that are still not understood some of the public reacted by getting tattoos, committing public vandalism, and more.

“Balloonatic” is the activation word.

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It’s 3:00 A.M.

My drunken guests look upon me with a mixture of confusion and pity as I rant about an idea that I want to share with them. When no one laughs I repeat, but louder this time, with the suspicion that no one heard me. When I finish I rush to my desk as quickly as possible, I don’t want to lose this. My belligerent scribbling sheds hard onto the table and I look upon my creation. Glory. I giggle madly and then fall into a sleeping abyss.

It’s 12:00 P.M.

A vague feeling of guilt echoes above my unforgiving hangover as light intrudes into my eyes. I trudge reluctantly to my desk and find the work of my drunk counterpart. Weight is added to my headache as I finish reading it and I try desperately to make sense of the punchline. I allow this futility to pass and drop the comic with the others, and realize now, with a dreadful clarity that there is now a PILE of them. Dear god. I fall back into my cot and plan a way for others to suffer from these comics, and my dreams taunt me.

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Send all questions, rants, and death threats to Reverend Fitzgerald at:

contact@revfitz.com