Mr Midnight Movie Drawing Contest EXTENDED to December 31st

FREE T-SHIRT TO THE BEST MR MIDNIGHT MOVIE DRAWING.  ADD ANYTHING YOU'D LIKE TO THE IMAGE BELOW.  SEND YOUR SUBMISSIONS UNTIL HALLOWEEN, OCTOBER 31ST BY DECEMBER 31st, 2016!  WINNER ANNOUNCED SOON THEREAFTER.  SO FAR WE ONLY HAVE TWO SUBMISSIONS, AND BOTH HAVE AGREED TO WAIT A COUPLE EXTRA MONTHS TO SEE WHO WALKS AWAY AS MR. MIDNIGHT MOVIE AND JEWISH PRODUCER'S TOP DOG ARTIST!  LOOK, WE'RE NOT GIVING AWAY MUCH, A LOUSY MR. MIDNIGHT MOVIE T-SHIRT, AND BRAGGING RIGHTS, BUT GET YOUR SUBMISSION IN SO WE CAN CREATE A SWEET GALLERY AND YOUR ARTWORK WILL LIVE FOREVER IN GLORIOUS INTERNET STARDOM!

INSTRUCTIONS:  PRINT OR SAVE THE IMAGE BELOW.  DRAW ON IT BY HAND,  OR PROCESS IT ANY WAY YOU LIKE DIGITALLY.  SCAN, SAVE, TAKE A PIC OF WHAT GOD-AWFUL CREATION YOU COME WITH AND DO THE FOLLOWING.....

SUBMIT YOUR RENDERING TO ME (JEWISH PRODUCER) ANY WAY YOU'D LIKE, INCLUDING:

EMAIL:  mrmidnightmovieproductions@gmail.com

SKYPE:  JP (JEWISH PRODUCER)

FACEBOOK:  @MRMIDNIGHTMOVIE

TWITTER:  @MRMIDNIGHTMOVIE OR @JEWISHPRODUCER

WINNER PICKED ON OCTOBER 31ST, 2016!

FAQ

WHAT MEDIUM DO I USE?
apocales: w0t m8
apocales: r u stoned
JP: are you doing oaj's impersonation of a british accent ?
JP: i should have pointed out that he fucking murdered that impersonation.
apocales: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=U%20Wot%20M8
apocales:  U Wot M8
It is a term that British people use. People outside of the UK think it sounds ridiculous, so the modern stereotype or newfag would think that British people have very poor grammar. It basically means, "You What Mate". Those 3 words don't even make a proper sentence, therefore it is a funny thing to say and a way to make fun of Brits'
Alfred: ...
Benjamin: U WOT M8
JP: exactly, that's why i said that.
apocales: :)
JP: did you start your drawing yet?
apocales: i don't draw sillay
JP: wot m8??
JP: you draw my nose into a penis all the time
apocales: it would be really really really BAAAAAAAAAAAD
JP: or did someone on 5-er do it for you ?
apocales: nah i used paint
JP: i told my wife someone draws swa stickers on my face ... we were totally expecting that here.
JP: (HECK) you then.
JP: exactly.
apocales: haha
JP: why the (HECK) wouldn't you just do the same thing to the other pic
JP: seriously
apocales: if u want PAINT-esque drawings i can try
JP: do i have to tell people "IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE DRAWN."
JP: (HECK) YOU... I'M STEALING THIS THREAD....
apocales: well the nose was the center of this picture so it made the swastika easier

UPDATE:
We have received our first entrant!  Good effort and probably someone who has heard our podcasts because this one is legit, by "PGNT", check it out!

Original Template Artwork by:  Subliminal Artist

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Writer's Contest - Jewish Producer v Debi Daly (Part 2 of 2!)

PART 2 of 2 - Writing contest: The proposal calls for Debi and Jewish Producer to each write a 300 word (minimum) essay.  Each essay will be displayed without the author's name attached to the post.   You the reader will have to determine the author of each penned blog-post.  See below, read the first post and guess who wrote it in the comment section.. Is the author of the following Debi or JP????

Essay #2:  I hate Fellow Shoppers.

Today I was pulled out of my daydream by the reality of a woman asking the cashier at Macy's in Northpark Mall if they sold a certain dress in a size different than the one she was holding. How dare she distract this overworked, minimum wage, neanderthal to ask the stupid question.  "No Mam, we keep several things hidden from people like you", is what I said to myself. 

The cashier said without even looking at the dress "Nope".  I could sense that the cashier was actually happy that this poor woman would now have to scour the Earth for her precious size 22.  It simply amazes me the way people are so rude.  They seem so "deserving."   The cashier , who was young and a little asexual, offered (without looking up, naturally), "I think there's another place somewhere around here, but I think they moved. I'd Google it if I were you." The poor, overweight woman was nearly sweating. We could all then see that she didn't speak English very well and didn't understand any of what cashier  had said. But she could smell the tension and didn't dare ask for it to be repeated.  She turned away, bowed her head and moved on with her life, dress-less and broken. My heart softened and I wanted to shout after her, "I will help you Google it!" but I couldn't speak. There was no more water in my decaying body and my mouth would not open.
Forty-five minutes later, I was barely carrying a pulse when the unthinkable happened.   The cashier spoke to me and said "Did you find everything okay?"  It was time. I was the chosen.  I peeled myself off the end cap I'd been laying on and rolled the squeaky stroller to the heart of the hell-mouth. I was faced with a dilemma; Now that I was in the driver's seat, should I dish back the unfriendly filth this demon had spewed over all of us, or should I take the high road. I thought about my family whom I'm sure would've immediately laid into this cashier, so I resisted my DNA and chose the high road. I didn't know where this was coming from, it was as if I was possessed or had forgotten the 45 minutes of my life that had just been pillaged from me, but I was actually friendly with cashier . It must've been that I knew I would be getting my life back soon. How the faintest glimmer of hope can lift the soul. I spoke in concise sentences so that those whom came after me would not be burdened by my needs or extra chatter. Because of this, I was pretty sure I got the wrong amount of fabric, but fuck it, there was no going back.  The cashier  mumbled about their "system" needing to reboot and my knees buckled, and I thought…."I hate fellow shoppers."

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