Review of this tiny version of Photoshop that I got, by Johnathan

So I had some picture that I needed to edit, but I've rapidly been filling up my computer with comic books - space is at a premium, yo. The solution, an incredibly small version of Photoshop. Seriously, you can run it off of a usb storage device. It's really wee, is what I'm saying, which leaves more room for comics, and more room for comics means that I'm going to find more stuff like this:

Superman doing a Flavor Flav bit in the 60s. This guy has always been ahead of the game.

Tiny Photoshop: JOHN APPROVED.

Super Flav: JOHN APPROVED.

John: Oppressed by a Crow

Not really - this guy was awesome.

JOHN APPROVED

A belated review of the construction guys, by Johnathan,

I agree with Paul, but must add this: when C.O.R.E Construction started work it kind of looked like they were putting in a moat for the fitness place next door, which would have been unbearably awesome.
Since they did not, I'm putting it in bold:

NOT APPROVED

Review of smells, By Johnathan.

Not all smells - that would take a while.

OK, so last week Paul was away and I didn't know when garbage day was and now there's a bag of garbage lurking in the kitchen, waiting to be taken out. There are smells hiding in this bag and sometimes when I am nearby they ambush my nose in an unpleasant manner. Plus, last week was kind of rainy and cold, so I closed all of the windows in the apartment as a survival tactic, resulting in a buildup of 'man smell' in my room. The apartment, in short, was not an olfactory symphony. It was more like... nostril muzak.

NOT APPROVED

Review of some other spam I got, by Johnathan.

On the other hand, getting email from a "Temujin Leffingwell' is awesome.

JOHN APPROVED.

Review of some spam I got, by Johnathan.

Ok, so I'm cleaning out my email account and I come accross a message from someone named Felix, and since I know a Felix I opened it. Turns out it's badly written spam that's trying to get me to go to some website and their strategy hinges on me thinking that the email really is from some old friend named Felix who cares about where I'm getting my black market viagra. So, to enhance the illusion, they've randomly selected the name of the person that it's addressed to, hoping that I might have that name, and, knowing someone named Felix, romp off to buy boner drugs from them.
The name that they chose? Lenhart.

NOT APPROVED.