May 2001

Evil Robots Saved My Life
Our Second Anniversary

Ah, has it really been two years? The time seems to have flown by. But, the last two years have had such a profound effect on my life that I can't imagine that I lived them any other way. change, when it came, was terrifyingly swift. And, if this change had not occurred, I am sure I would not be able to write these lines today.

First some background. It is true that I graduated from a fancy-pants liberal arts college nearly two years before the birth of Evil Robots. I quickly found that most of the liberal arts factories were no longer hiring. This meant that my hard work and dedication for four rigorous years were not to be used as I had hoped. But, if there is one thing I learned at that fancy-pants school, it was flexibility. I turned what had been merely a hobby into a full time career.

In my spare time at college, I used to get really drunk and tell people "this about that". After my disappointment with the liberal arts firms, I fell back on this hobby and was hired by the City of Richmond to be a drunk and surly bum. Life was pretty sweet, I was given all the booze I could drink, got to keep any change thrown my way, and allowed, finally to explain the way the aliens were using the underpants of passing women to destroy my brain. I lived in a beautiful one-bedroom cardboard box under the best railroad tracks in a city full of wonderful, smelly, drunk people. I was living the good life.

Or so it would seem. You see, I was dead -- inside. One day, while digging through the trash can looking for the remains of a fired chicken dinner. I finally realized that all this -- the glamour, the cardboard box, the alien mind control experiment, and the booze, were not enough, and would never be enough to make me happy. I had to do something. I stumbled upon Godzilla one day. He explained that he was starting a company and needed my help. The history making conversation went something like this:

Sketchy (me): ...so, in conclusion the only way to be safe is to chew road tar, it confuses the alien signal. That and never trust any woman who wears underpants....hey, I KNOW you.

Godzilla: No, I don't have any change

Sketchy: No, I know you, we used to hang out together.

Godzilla: I don't have any change, and I'm going to call the police if you keep harassing me.

Sketchy: No, you're Godzilla

Godzilla: That does it. POLICE!

Anyway, long story short, at my arraignment, when they read my full name (Sketchibald E. Jones) Godzilla finally recognized me and took me away from my empty life of glamour. Since that time, I've been working for this little offering, and while I'm still not used to having millions of dollars, tens of thousands of admiring fans in every city, and a private jet (Sketchy 1), I know that I am making a difference.

Thank you Godzilla. God bless you and God bless America goodnight.

PS. Watch out for underpants. Zolor is a tricky bastard. The End.