Goats H.Q. Update: I'm on vacation. I'm in the midst of a glorious two-week vacation, basking in the warm glow of cathode ray tubes and LCD screens. Did I take this opportunity to go away, to visit strange lands, cavort on their beaches and sleep with beautiful women who don't know how to speak english (and therefore have a slightly lower chance of knowing the phrase "go away, dork")?
No.
I decided to stay here in New York and dedicate my time to you, my faithful readers. I'm sacrificing the only time i've had off from work since 1934 so that the Goats crusade can continue on, slaughtering innocent children in eastern lands, in the hope that we can find a mythical cup.
I should explain. A little less than a month ago, one of the residents of Goats: The Apartment (not me) managed to bilk hundreds of novice investors out of more money than I can actually comprehend in one of the most stunning IPOs in recorded history. Given this unbelievably monstrous mountain of venture capital, we now have a little bit more flexibility in what we, as an organization, can achieve.
So, almost immediately after I finish typing up this readme, I'm going to begin working on the screenplay for what may be the least-widely anticipated project since Ghoulies II.
Starting today, I begin work on Goats: The Animated Short.
Five to ten minutes of state-of-the-art 3D computer animation. Movement. Music. Sound effects. Babies taped to ceilings. Satanic chickens come to life.
I'm excited, and I hope you are, too. I'll keep you up to date with the progress of the project. Hopefully, I'll have some still images and some sounds to share with you in a couple of months. Stay tuned.
In the meantime, I present to you the first episode of "Turkey", a brilliant comic strip by 9-year-old David Jacobson, a shepherd who lives in the mountains of eastern Tibet. Despite the opressive rule of Red China and the lack of any computers, phone lines, clothing, food, or air, David has penned this stunning piece of literature, scanned it, and emailed it to me so that he may share his magnificent vision with the world.
Lately, we've been getting some mildly worrisome requests that we post pictures of ourselves on the site, presumably so people can find us and hurt us with somewhat less effort than it would require otherwise. Always eager to keep our fans happy, I've gone through the Goats photo album and pulled a few choice shots that I think you'll enjoy.
Our first photo was taken just a month ago, as Phillip and myself were about to take off to enjoy an evening of Halloween violence. Dressed as the easily recognizeable Geek Patrol, I was amazed by the number of people who would approach us as we walked down the street, pound me on the shoulder, and shout, "Hey! Mad Max!" before they would run off, making barking noises reminiscent of the old Arsenio Hall show.
Despite the sheer tonnage of body armor and women's underwear we were clad in, fighting our way through the crowds at the Greenwich Village Halloween Parade proved to be an exercise in stupidity.
We gave up not long after we arrived, and headed to the Pub (our URL is on the menu now, by the way), where we hid ourselves in the corner and engaged in self-destructive behavior, turning only from our drinks to occasionally admire the lovely Lori, who looked radiant as she yelled at me to turn sideways so she could see past my protruding shoulderpads. 
This is a shot from my pilgrimage to the Star Wars shrine at the Smithsonian, which I undertook over a long weekend a few months ago. Little did I know that the appeal of the strip had grown so much.
By the way, my recent obsession with the venerable sci-fi classic and the strip dealing with the trailer from episode I garnered me a link from the homepage of slashdot.org, as well as approximately 3500 additional visitors that day. Not bad for a strip I whipped up simply because I was unable to come up with anything else.
No photo album would be complete without a few shots from a birthday party. I would have put in some from my own birthday, but since no one remembered (or, if they did remember, they made a point of staying far, far away), I'll just show you these pictures from Phillip's surprise party last August.
Here's a shot of Phillip, resplendent in his new Viking Helmet (the horns are genuine Goat) and his plastic sword and shield. Note the beer on Phillip's left (and the large sweat stains). Sorry, ladies, he's taken. 
This is a photo of Spam, removed from it's protective coating. Phillip actually likes this stuff. See how it glistens? Mmmm....
This particular pyramid of Spam is a pile of casualties, left behind by Phillip's relentless urge to build himself a set of armor out of Spam to accompany the beautiful helmet he was given by his girlfriend. She's a very patient person.
If you'd like to give a home to this Spam, exposed to the elements and without anyone to care for it, send a note to Phillip and tell him how much you'd like to adopt this adorable lump of luncheon meat.
Phillip isn't the only familiar face that showed up to his birthday party. His girlfriend, once again demonstrating her bizarre penchant for freakish alcoholics of nordic descent, created this lovely cake in the form of everyone's favorite womanizer, Toothgnip.
Toothgnip also holds the dubious honor of being the only attendee that wasn't able to make it out of the party with all limbs intact. I'm still not sure who felt it was necessary to eat the brain right out of the skull like that. That's the last time I invite zombies to a party.
Anyway, I hope you've found these photos to be as agonizingly painful as I have. We'll see you back here next month (or whenever i manage to get my ass up off the couch).
-jonathan rosenberg, cartoonist extraordinaire
december 3, 1998