In theory it should only take me 3 minutes to update this.
I do not believe I mentioned here that I would be in Paris, France, Europe, for the month of July. I might not have until it became relevant, but it might not have been relevant for a long time.
Tumbling up on a previous item,
this is from the deviant art website. It was also a featured object shown to everybody [who cared to be aware] and had 1119 users proclaim it “favorite” as of the time when I saw it, august 2011. Observe the system drawing people in: putting simplistic faces on inanimate objects, particularly the big arc mouth with perfectly circular black dot eyes at the ends. Anything drawn like this is immediately marketable, especially food. Can you write the letter U and a period? Can you draw a square? Congratulations, you created HappyBread® Brands LLC INC. Here’s 3 millions dollars. Don’t put ears on it, though; that’s copyright infringement against CatLoaf, the exclusive intellectual property of Bananazone International Holdings, who get to sue you now. Don’t put eyeshadow and white makeup on it, either; that’s DeathLoaf, the inspired imaginatorneering of Gatherib Wendlemeyer, praise be upon her, a talented genius prodigy 17 year old graphic professional designist from Seattle who gets to order cronies to taunt you on twitter forever and then sue you also. Um I think this is art theft u guys???? I actually have total confidence in my statement but this insecurity is a total put on guys?????? Idek is it??????????????????????? Guys. It’s like, I just.
Watch this, here be a horrid picture of something that I ate, because I compulsively photographed my food for a few years, to assist the coroner.
Here it is again with that one face drawn on it. Notice how it’s still ugly, but it has that face on it. This is “cute” to some people. Specifically, the ones who spend $30 on an ugly flat-colored short sleeved shirt with a slogan or a logo on it. Imagine if you drew this face vomiting a rainbow that also had this face on it. Much like the poster bodonies, it’s really easy and really popular.
What is my problem? Can’t I just be happy for other people’s success? Clearly I can’t (and it is worse when it is people I have met in person but do not have any financial connection to). That isn’t real success, anyhow; the person did three other nearly identical scenes, and almost nobody who looked at this one looked at the others, and even less looked at the things which weren’t this. Why build people up to such a ludicrous degree like that just to immediately chop them down with your negligence? That’s rude. Why not make an effort at an earnest, ongoing appreciation, or, if you don’t truly think it is special, not pretend it’s some historical masterpiece? Because those who appeared were someone else’s crony. They like ugly, easily produced artwork, but only if the right person tells them to.
Anyhow, this was meant to transition into my real point, which is
Hey later, man. I’m eatin’ a celery stick.
That is a good reason. Very well, you are excused. Who is still here?
I have to go, too.
Friday the 28 – Saturday the 29 interval: Good news! I have a word heap that will be ready to display in the morning, which needs merely to be proofread with a mind clear enough to see errors but not enough to know better. The bad news is that I was kidding about that being good news.
Everybody knows how much I love the website “tumblr.” Everybody is also occasionally confident of erroneous information. “Tumblr radar” is a section of the website layout for identifying “hot” circulating objects, as a convenient and benevolent means to ensure popular stuff gets more popular. However, in practice it generally just shows really bad artwork from a limited range of grotesque styles.
This is the first thing I remember having a problem with. “why the heck is this artless piece of trash on the ‘radar’.png” I asked, unaware in May of 2011 that this was the radar’s primary function and that we would continue to regard each other in the same way for the duration of our relationship. I had a minor rainbow breakdown in November of that year, and didn’t even need to incorporate this picture because it’s so consistently done and unoriginal and so consistently praised for being original.
I’ve seen rainbows come out of every possible orifice, but almost nobody ever eats one. Although it is difficult to tell which direction this one is travelling in, the idle teeth suggest involuntary action. For decades the Skittles company has invited us to taste the rainbow but never to overindulge to the point that we can no longer contain it within ourselves. This picture is “original” in the respect that the protagonist does not have a horse-like shape.
Afterward I had this labeled “tumblr radar tops itself by tunneling beneath the worst thing it showed me previously.” I don’t seem to have kept a record of them prior to this. Now I reevaluate my position because though it took absolutely no effort and brings me no joy to look at, i can at least swallow a piece of food while it is visible. Even if it is a rainbow excretion orgy it’s being run on Atari 2600 hardware before they figured out how to make those gradient backgrounds.
This is literally a picture of typed characters. Why do i bother? Even the infinite monkeyss at typewriters would be disgusted to have this shoved at them as an example of success.
I’m not proud of you for remembering something that somebody else said! Even if that person’s name rhymes.
Oh I just noticed that says “explodingdog” on it. I’m not looking to know what that is but I’ve seen that particular random combination of words before. Sure that and toasty frog and flying omelette and dresden kodak and
There’s no subject matter that people who can’t draw and can’t think like better than coffee (except rainbows issuing from bodily orifices and food with faces). Coffee + bad art + high exposure + underlining how lame it is = MORE exposure.png. Yes the whole internet must know that somebody approves of coffee (and bagels, the world’s least exciting food after wheatabix). Rather than stand up to their expensive addiction or peacefully coexist with it they gleefully pay homage to it. It’s the exact same way cigarettes were treated in the 1950s. Except cigarettes are only expensive now because of unfair taxes on them; coffee is obscenely overpriced just because the people who sell it feel like obscenely overpricing it. Maybe 20 years from now there will be anti-coffee campaigns, taxes and lawsuits and trendly sorts will have a replacement religion based around waiting in line every singular day-length-period to pay to have themselves punched in the stomach while experts assure everyone there are no longterm health detriments to doing that. I eat ice cream because I like the way it tastes, but I’m not nearly proud of myself for doing so.
Have you heard? I quit.
If you’re too late to be fashionably quirky, you can always get by on pointlessly disgusting (but don’t forget the teeth). An entire generation of animators who watched Ren and Stimpy and never found a fault in it have proven that.
At this point I considered that it might be necessary for me to disable the radar entirely. Tumblr provides no means to do that, but browser extensions have been designed to do the deed. I never installed one because I also considered that I would probably write something like this and might want a better horror selection at such a time. I hate/appreciate me. Having fulfilled that, I have today concealed the thing. I am a questionable entity.
What the orp even IS this thing? I had to look at the large size version to figure that out, and I still couldn’t tell. Is it cells under a microscope? Is it a geographical map with the color balance altered? Is it a dirty kitchen floor? Is it a spoiled wheatabix? What I do know is that it looks like nothing I want to see, and digging and doing research to find out what it IS wouldn’t change that. However I suspect if I went outside and dug I’d eventually find something this reminded me of.
I see this same artist or somebody utterly indistinguishable far too often. The same hemispheric line mouths with the same large dot eyes directly at the ends, the same parallel, turned-on-the-side feet that would be incapable of bearing weight. If you see a piece of food or a popular electronic trinket with limbs and a face it’ll probably be one of these, especially if it’s printed on a shirt. And fine, one person can have a style. But copying it bothers me. I consider art “better” during the ages of guilds and mass apprenticeship because people who could copy but not create had a greater standard to silently adhere to. Unfortuantely all they were allowed to paint were Jesus and hills. Now people are free to draw any sort of things, such as bands they’ve been ordered their whole lives to think are great. Or at least as long as their recent marketing surge has persisted. Do you remember what a huge deal it was when the Beatles songs were at last at first available on utines? Even though Beetols have had every single album of theirs available at every single record store since they existed? And that even stuff that they didn’t finish or remember they’d made was just as hard to not find? Well I hope not; I’ve currently forgotten if I put that complaint in an entry already and I’d hate you to know I was repeating myself.
When did people get the idea that it was alright to draw feet like that? 1493bc in Thutmose’s tomb? This is the “I’m about to fall over and twist my ankle” pose. Hopefully those little saran wrap box toes don’t brush up against any flesh in the process.
In fairness to the radar, somebody reblogged this at me, after several thousand other people expressed, I’ll assume, approval. I reduced the size for the sake of consistency and a misguided belief that nobody has a problem with me copying their pictures if I keep them tiny, but I should make clear that for every basic large natural detail that mystified the artist there is a tiny fully rendered round tooth protruding from the mouth (and then a strip of three stuck together). These people love to draw teeth. I had to stop looking at my queue entirely because even people I liked invariably liked stuff I hated enough to tell everybody about it with such regularity that I could no longer look at my flow of updates at all without getting so mad that I wrote a brooding paragraph about it each and every time. This wasn’t even one of those things, and look at what a state I’ve entered over it.
Ah great, back to getting mad at people I have no tangential relationship to. Is there a law against being able to draw and getting on here? I figured out from the comments that one or both of these floating torsos is from a television show. I couldn’t tell what and didn’t care to remember. The drawing is still not a thing of such magnificence to be broadcast all across the land. You don’t need to upload everything you thoughtlessly doodled on an envelope during a telephone conversation. The second one at least shows an attempt to be done better, but it comes across as creepy because there’s so much no detail and suddenly heavy cheek lines, a bloody-lipped semi smile and eyes that don’t appear to be facing any direction. I suppose it’s progress that I have a clue where to start complaining, rather than being baffled into irrelevance..
I dare you to put a picture by somebody who can draw on there. Although now that I have turned the thing off I’ll never know if my dare is received, and thus it may be. I am selfless and beneficial to society. And so tonight I will sleep and not worry what innocent person I’ve needlessly wronged by complaining about what they made and exhibited for free and never asked to have shoved in my business.
I had attached above a previous entry but it was a totally different topic so I suppose it’s worth placing separately.
I overheard that Lance Armstrong is being “stripped” of his titles due to palling around with dopes, a truly revile-worthy act. If you want to punish him, let Lance Armstrong keep his titles but strip him of the name “Lance Armstrong” that is synonymous with the sport moreso than his trophy collection or whatever he won apart from the money that is not also being stripped of him. Maybe we should just strip him in general, in public, wherever he goes. The anti-dope authority could have operatives that follow him around in disguise and yank his clothes off at the worst moments. I also heard that he was “banned from cycling for life.” Which is a good idea considering that he’s retired or reached the point where he threatens to do so every year. I noticed he wasn’t banned from competitive cycling; it sounded like all cycling. He can’t keep a bicycle at his house. He can’t have a tricycle, either. Or a washing machine, because those run in cycles. We’ll have to confiscate his encyclopedias, too. Ransack his house, find that Grolier cd which came with the $3000 basic desktop computer he bought in 1996 after winning the Tour Duhfrontz the first time. We’re finally gonna GET this guy for making Americans give a flopping fish about professional bicycle races. As much as you Europeans hate having an American win it, think about how THEY feel. Armstrong was probably ordered by the US government to use “performance enhance”rs just so that would make him sound tough when the story came out since that’s what American tough guys do.
Mr. Chu, when I posted this initially, spoke up to the effect that just about everybody involved is probably putting SOMETHING inside themselves that they are not meant to, and Mr. Armstrong was targeted because he was the winner, and the important thing in all this is that it generates garbage publicity, which benefits everybody involved, Lance included, probably, I inferred, and the collective societal elite get to continue their prolonged respirator-assisted laugh on the rest of us. And then I said something like “I am definitely of the belief that there’s little difference between the “illegal” substances and those $200 jars of dust that somehow fill racks and racks of shelves in different varieties at “nutrition” stores. They are legal primarily because they aren’t illegal yet.” In fact that’s exactly what I said. I have a good memory of what I selected and pressed ctrl+c over.
I will have something nice next week. Comparatively.
Bimshwel: five years of ehhh, three years of ah? and two years of oh.
Just think, in ten years bimshwel has gone from an irregularly updated personal weblog angry about stuff that doesn’t matter, maybe a little obsessed with old video games, written by an unemployed student with delusions of being a successful cartoonist and read by a few people. It all goes to show that if you work hard on something you love and never give up, you too can alienate the people around you.
I had absolutely nothing planned for this occasion apart from that sentence. I have been overwhelmed with deadlines for arbitrary tasks and only just realized “today,” Friday, gah, here is another one, and my own fleeping fault, this time. I knew this was coming. I had ten years to prepare. But there is nothing.
It has been my experience that when somebody tells me to give them something two weeks from now, at the end of two weeks they may remark “you had two weeks to do this!” More likely I had a few isolated hours across two weeks, during which I was incapable of coherent thought. And so, with all my deadlines recently, not one’s task was completed to my satisfaction. I am both difficult to satisfy and lacking in the skill to produce satisfaction. However, those also were externally assigned tasks that were not of personal importance to me. The things I make that matter to me, the ones I have tended to tell myself “no one else cares about,” that I do without deadlines turn out the best. They also get shoved aside when I do the bidding of others. So ducks to your birth-date, bimshwel. I shall speak of it when I deem prudent and some day when you’re older you’ll know I was right. Now get back in your room and play the piano! I want to hear those scales! Now! Stop crying! I didn’t raise no sissy website!
Lizard? I HAVE NO LIZARD.
I’ll see to it that nobody else has one either, if you keep that up.
Five years ago I appear to have questioned that I could still possibly be doing this five years from then. I wonder if I sincerely believed that I would not. Around that time I had only recently entered into online art-sites and displaying my pictures on them. I did not mention it here because I was ashamed that I had, at last, publicly become involved, even though I had been browsing the things for a few years. So when I did post my own nonsense I did it under names that I thought didn’t sounded like I came up with them because I didn’t want anybody from here to find me there. Now I have links to the things on the side of this page. It seems that no matter how ashamed I become of what I do, I follow it up with something else that makes it seem forgivable by comparison. I suppose I’ll start linking to that without even thinking to comment in another year or so.
I mentioned new websites that quickly got more popular than my old website. I reckon few of them are still updated, if they even exist. So I win. Nothing. Now I have the same gripe about the relative fame of users on the dumb art sites. Someday I will win nothing on them as well, merely by being so socially immobile that I linger long after most people stop caring.
Look there, 900! That’s a lot! Especially for me! I should be overcome with emotion at the approval. This proves that people like what I do. However, there are also 30 different oafs in the same vicinity who have drawn the exact same dog-thing over and over again for years with minimal creative ambition who easily have twice the approval. Three times as much if it’s a dog-thing from a bad video game or hideous cartoon and multiply either by 1.8 if the dog thing is a dragon thing. I have checked and verified these figures. It means nothing.
Not everybody really wants to be creative, anyhow; they just do it for fun. Fine for them, rageful for somebody who sincerely tries.
Half of this 900 lot probably don’t even go to the website anymore… which helps me in my quest for victorious nothingness but also implies that they are better than you (you being me), for their having left first, the scamps. A third of the remnant are ready to drop you at any moment, and eagerly anticipate a reason. Or perhaps they want you to watch their page. Not you specifically, but anybody at all who will increase their always-visible point total. Perhaps it even happened out of pity. Or maybe they like your drawings but find you despicable. Or perhaps just like the last thing you put up, or someone who means more to them than you mentioned you. It seems fashionable, for the moment, to acknowledge you, but by and large you are of negligible importance. It is necessary to build absurdly large support networks because the actual units of support have so very little meaning. Anybody can suddenly hate you at any moment And by beanbags I’ve done it myself. The personal weblogs can no longer be imagined by me to threaten me, but fleeting, fickle nothingness yet thrives. Those who are truly dedicated to the site or their cliquey support networks don’t have any more use for me than I for them. But I like it better than twitter. I have no hope in that nothingness. 300 or so who potentially might care is pretty good, even in a really dumb place. After all, they defeated the Persians and more importantly inspired a really lazy meme that prospered among the same sort of people.
Porridge, I spent three weeks writing some mopey introspective thing like that for a class that is now done. I don’t need to recreate it here. I may pull out some relevant bits and impose them on you later. I had to turn that in precisely when it was due. Bimshwel is never due. Bimshwel is not concerned that I acknowledged such a major anniversary a day late or that I talked about other websites than it the whole time. I broke its spirit years ago. It may have shamed itself into forgetting what the day was. You probably didn’t know either. I could say it is today, and nobody but me would know. I miss every birthday in my real family; quite finkly it would be rude of me to make an exception for this distasteful abomination.
I spend too much time thinking about nonsense. I am three years older than Napoleon and my realm is pitiful. But I maintain my composure because these are trifling issues. I don’t need to be the “best.” I have a narrow appeal, since I have such difficulty or unwillingness to latch on to other people’s gimmicks. I am not a winner. I am not good enough at anything that enough people do to have a contest over to even compete for the victory. I might have a chance of winning a contest whose goal was to be me, but if there were other people who could conceivably be me then there would be no point to it. I am as isolated by choice as necessity. And that is perfectly all right. The sooner I accept that the sooner I can enjoy my existence. The needless jealously and pointless aspiring to meaningless smalltime niche digital fame cease today!
ARRRGH I’LL GET YOU, YOU INTOLERABLE GINGERBREAD MANNEQUIN! YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME JUST BECAUSE YOU DRAW POKEMON AND HOMESTUCKS AND CLEOPATRA 2525! I’LL BEAT YOU I’LL SHOW YOU! I’LL LICK THE WHOLE KABOODLE USING JUST MY NOODLE! MY ORIGINAL DERIVATIVE CHARACTERS ARE (C) ME!!! I SHALL AVENGE THE MARSHMALLOW PEEPS SLAIN TO MAKE YOUR CLOTHING! Come to me, winged cronies! I have been slighted! Do my bidding and I’ll give you *hugs* with lots of extra asterisks on the sides! Otherwise I’ll know who my REAL friends are! I need to clean out my watch list soon HINT HINT
My hubris shall be my downfall.
“Pandora.” Like I am meant to think it’s forbidden knowledge that I can’t handle that’s going to rock my world literally. In truth it’s the same annoying rubbish I haven’t wanted to handle for half my life.
Pandora the Internet Radio is a website that finds and plays music for you based on what it perceives your interests to be.
Two years ago somebody other than myself introduced me to it and I promptly untroduced myself. While it was going on I typed a bunch of text scraps and then didn’t have the time or inclination to sort them out. I still don’t but now I have other things to do that are even less interesting. The fellow insisted Pandora was the most significant scientific achievement since the ninja turtles discovered the secret of the ooze but I clearly lacked security clearance.
Pandora Radio has no idea how quickly it won my trust by pulling up facebook information for me without asking me if I had a page there, much less waiting for me to tell it which was mine, and then somehow using this as an excuse to attack me with some whiny band that it insisted was similar to a band that I primarily “like” the page of because someone I know is in it. They are a GOOD band but I got lucky and am not looking for other “good bands.” You might say that’s the whole point of Pandora but I was holding out hope that I could locate some decent musicians who weren’t necessarily bandy.
You can turn off the facebook connection but you can’t stop it from happening the first time and you can’t have a picture on your page any other way. It has nothing to do with music but I enjoy being able to customize hostile foreign netscapes with familiar, condemnable imps.
You know what I say all the time: “I really want to listen to something with minor key tonality.” In fact everybody knows that. It’s a matter of public record. It has to be, because otherwise, that this thing knows is a tremendous breach of decency and undeniable evidence of absolutely sinister corporate collusion which way too many people that I know personally are apparently, contently, going along with.
The blurb there is consistent with my past experience that the smarter somebody tries to sound talking about music, the dumber the world gets. You can speak of being experts and know the difference between keys and time signatures but you can’t do anything to make your opinion of music any more valid than anyone else’s. My thoughts on Suprematist art didn’t change when I learned what its name was or what it was trying to accomplish (although recreating it in 3d was a good idea) and I like Gustav Klimt when he paints things that aren’t filled with shapes that resemble eyes, but I couldn’t tell somebody they were wrong to like eye shapes based on their not knowing what gesso was unless I was an irredeemable scumbag. Then, perhaps, I would have use for someone to sweetly redeem me. However, if I typed “High Flight Society” into Pandora it would just play a song by These Green Eyes that had nothing in common with it and I would go unredeemed, or possibly redempt in a manner that pertained to a different category of taste reception and THEN by gorby where would I be?
So after shunning facebook I was advised to say what I personally thought I liked, if I’m so smart.
I grant that these are hokey choices. Obviously Prophet Fukami wouldn’t be in there so I didn’t try that. Konami and Falcom put out most of the arranged/performed video game music albums that I am aware of so they seemed like the ones to start with. My taste in music is not logical and I am entitled to privately prefer hokey selections.
Yet when prompted to supply an artist that I already liked, I was turned down several times before Pandory gave up Yoko Shimomura, who gets to be in there for being one of precious few composers I like to have worked recently. Apparently she scored Kingdom Hearts, the video game, which I assume has nice enough music but unfortunately its unfortunate fan base puts the music in the “children’s” category which by the music robot’s reckoning makes it similar to The Wiggles as well as non-wiggles trying to sound wiggly, never at all mind that Yoko Shimomura is Japanese, working in video games and without using any words. Surely the game HAS an annoying word song in it somewhere to give it mass wimply appeal, but the first thing that came up was nice enough.
Afterward a half-Raffi said the same stuff about the jungle over and over again, and then Einstein played knick knack on people’s thumbs in a gesture I’m sure he was just as proud of afterward as atomic bombs. I praise children’s music the genre for daring to have songs that aren’t about the pursuit of sex (though doubtlessly if you put “he played knick-knack” in absolutely any other context somebody would think it was a hilarious masturbaty euphemism and giggle accordingly) but gosh they’re repetitive. Next there we went “loopty loo” and it was actually less musically complex than the Barney version. And then I regretted thinking that because an actual Barney song came on.
When an audio sequence comes through pandora you can indicate if you approve of it or if you don’t, or nothing at all, but like hulu’s ad disliking system, it likes to eventually return to the first thing you disliked, so confident in its own infallibility as to assume nobody would ever dislike everything it came up with unless the person was just testing the system to see what would happen and therefore not worth working to accommodate.
except for that one time I broke hulu by hating all its ads and it tried shill at me for 23 Spanish shows all at once. In frap every ad is not relevant to me because I am off the market for new television. I have two shows that I am compulsively bound to and when one of us gives up I hope it will all be over. Thankfully I don’t need to have the same policy for music because one song rarely lasts twenty-one minutes and I can listen to it without halting every aspect of my already not-very-exciting life.
And so with that in mind Pandorcus saw fit to give me a second barney song
Pandora suspected I might dispute the reasoning behind this decision and then would not allow me to leave until I thoroughly understood its lecture. it can tell me WHY it chose a song, — in fact, it likes nothing better– but I cannot tell it WHY it’s wrong or that the criteria it’s using is wrong.
What the peep is a “kid friendly vibe?” Music is not inherently malicious unless it’s created deliberately to be annoying, loud or dissonant. There are people who like listening to staticy voices and modulating frequency noises instead of conventional music, and that might not even be “unfriendly” if enough people like it that it feels better about itself. As for vibe, that means “vibration,” and a thing which creates vibrations is a vibrator, which is usually not sold to children at all. I confess I am curious how and/or why Pando has gotten around this but I’m not sure I could handle the information. I barely recovered from the knick-knack-knickerbock interlude.
The only thing that children like better than Home Depot is Sacha Baron Cohen. Naked hairy man fights also translate surprisingly well into audio form, provided you double the pitch first.
I was in a laundromat when I finally came back to this, april 20, 2012, and a flubbing home depot ad came over the radio, immediately after another ad warning me that Tyler Perry’s Madea was coming LIVE to some local venue whose name I have lamentably forgotten.
They also love free business cards.
So now every crummy top-10 fm pepsi-selling hit is also inherently identical to all video game music if it’s been on a kidz bop album.
The kidz boppiting rapper actually said “yee auhhhh” at the start of whatever that was. I imagine the professional rappists who yee auhhh are merely preparing their voices before they’re actually supposed to say stuff and whoever is supposed to edit that out never bothers to. However, this kid is saying “yee auhhhh” because he thinks it sounded good in the original and ought to be imitated. It didn’t and shouldn’t!
Through consistently disapproving of everything I eventually caused Pandy to only play minimalist xylophonic music, with no bass, harmony or percussion, and I need more than that. The second one that came up was a wordless cover of an aerosmith song. See, that’s the wrong kind of thinking. People who feel overwhelmed by voices in their lives shouldn’t have to piggy on the backs of atrocious acts like that to gain acceptance. I am not strictly avoiding words, anyhow. I am avoiding music I don’t like. As glad as I am to not hear Steven Tyler, that’s not because his presence makes the work too complex for me to comprehend.
Admidst all this Pandora kept going on and on about the music genome project like it was diplomatic immunity. It means to say
According to the website,
No actually I don’t want to know. I’m glad they don’t tell me!
NO NO NO YOU DON’T GET TO DO THAT! I DENIED YOU YOUR PROMPT! GET GONE!
This is an even lazier running gag than
no elpse today.
More stupid stereotypes that appeal to corny people. How much great stuff ever came out of a garage, and how much does these days? The only people I knew who had garage bands were the children of rich people in a couple of tv shows I probably hated twenty years ago.
I don’t even know anybody who has a garage now. I also dispute the use of “new” here. There is heaps of good, old music unaccounted for. It is said by other people who think they’re clever but are actually misquoting that those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. However, those who are blissfully unaware of the past are doomed instead to repeat the present in perpetuity and while less dangerous I want this sentence to end.
We require your gender information to help our targeted advertising be just as wrong about you as our music selections
Also, people pay to use this.
I really shouldn’t have, but I considered that maybe perhaps the website would have improved its method in two years, so I had it running while I rewrote and formatted that up there. I shouldn’t have because that guaranteed I would have more griping to do before I could leave.
Nobuo Uematsu, another video game person, did have a listing, but he’s well known (I swear) and I don’t necessarily want stuff similar to the heavy orchestral arrangements he’s apparently well known for (or that comprise the one official released album he made that is in Pandora’s box), much less what this kooky kontraption mechanically muses and daftly decrees is similar. We need to differentiate between opposing cornies. This got me more serviceable results than Yoko Shimomura but none of the synthesizery stuff that comprises a majority of what made me like Uematsy and learn his name to begin with.
I said it was a functional composition, not that I ever wanted to hear it again. Most of what came through this was really dreary. No songs about the noises cows make but I may just be difficult to please. I don’t want items that I already have but I don’t want stuff that annoys me either.
I tried entering the name of Falco, an admitted vocalist, and was presented with some unremarkable 80s-sounding tunes, like Enjoy the Silence, better known as the song about the king wandering through the wilderness. When I just hear the song I don’t have any proof that a king is singing it because he neglects to say that he’s a king (never even mind whether he can sing) or make any royal decrees and it becomes a lot less interesting, aside from the outlandish hypocrisy of this chap ordering me to enjoy the silence after he’s been moaning about words doing harm in his little world for three minutes. By the time he shuts up another song is ready to start. Dumb king. If I am going to settle for unremarkability I need to have more control over it than this. I remember the first time I heard the song on an actual radio system, rather than with the music video, and being less interested without the king. Now that I have re-examined the video even that is rather dull. He should have a more substantial beard.
Ah, given that these images are two years old, just today I went back and typed the name again. Last time they said they’d check it out. They never did! Or they did but they had returned it already before I came back.
“Genre stations.” I hate genres. When somebody asks me “what kind” of music I listen to, I hope that they do not specify “willingly” because I have no answer. I don’t like music by its kind. I like it because it has interesting tunes and minimally oppressive voices, if any. When I tell people I like video game music they immediately change the subject if they don’t give up right there. I suspect they interpret it to mean I have unsophisticated tastes and that I merely haven’t been “exposed” to good or “real” music that by some chance happens to be exactly what they listen to, which by another chance happens to be exactly what I’m deliberately avoiding because I know I hate it. I realize that now. During my pandora trial I still maintained hope that there was a possibility of me being able to enjoy anything but silence when in the company of others (including kings who advocate the opposite). And in truth that even is not so very bad. I wish I could go shopping without Jason Mraz fedora-ing up my earlobes or share a car with someone who was actually open to having a conversation. We just need obnoxious voicy noise that we can’t respond to coming at us at all times because otherwise we risk having a thought. I see people sitling motionless in waiting rooms, on benches, on buses, going for leisurely walks, or simply standing around, inside or out[side], always with their goldfarbed earphones in and activated loud enough that I can discern the noise’s nature. We are terrified of the absence of noise. I should feel fortunate that I desire so little of it.
In closing, I cannot be pleased and it is futile to try.
No actually I like some musical theatre and I already feel boring.
Historically this has been the best ending I have been capable of writing.
I intend to release a statement regarding armor on Friday.
I inadvertently entered a public restroom of type apart from what I had been traditionally instructed to enter. As the room was lacking for other patrons my first visual cue was the character of the graffiti.
I am surprised to realize that I cannot recall the theme song for Darkwing Duck, but I am not rushing to remedy this.
I can say already I probably won’t have something prepared for April 8!
Two hours later it seems kind of derivative
Electronic Banking Monopoly. Hey let us take a really boring game and remove the most fun element from it: brightly colored, utterly unrealistic paper money in high denonominations. Ordinarily I’d want only 500 dollar bills, stacks of them, but in Monopoly the fifty has a more interesting color and so I don’t mind keeping those around. Otherwise I don’t enjoy Monopoly a great deal; it goes on for far too long and I’ve never seen a game end but out of apathy. Often time itself is the one who gives up. I hate most board/card games because they tend to be more chance than skill, if they aren’t chance exclusively, and if I’m playing one that means other people also are and they’re probably enjoying it and that means they’ll keep right on playing it. I can’t stand seeing people enjoy stuff that I hate. I like Scattergories because nobody else does and so I never play it and so I don’t discover anything that makes me realize I hate it.
The valet siblings could at least do the cards or the calculator up in a similarly impractical fashion to the money. What’s the calculator even for? When I use my debit card I expect someone else to figure out what I owe so I can look at my bank statement three months later and wonder when Comcast increased my monthly internet charge by twenty dollars or what I bought from “S-CONN-ST-U-BKS NEW HAVEN” that cost $109. There is uninvestigated potential to distract from the classy deficit with fraud and identity theiving shenanigans.
Much, if not all, of Monopoly’s enduring charm lies in its aesthetic, tactile appeals and how antiquated it is. Sure I’ll represent myself with a tiny metal thimble. I don’t know what a thimble is for; I believed it was a trash can for long enough, even though that concept of a trash can was also antiquated and based on outdated cartoons I’d seen and managed to not decry the lack of in-touch pandering within. Monopoly has absolutely no contemporary social relevance. Yet it has survived despite that. Its mascot is a sphere-headed 19th century mustachioed man wearing a top hat and a bowtie.
That alone proves he uh gosh I don’t even remember.
He would have no use for a credit card. Money to him is as much a financial asset as piece of physical property to act as a visual aid in his mocking of the down-trodden. His greatest joy in life is lighting hundred dollar bills with his cigar while posing in front of orphanages getting bulldozed to make way for enormous green plastic monoliths. He didn’t accumulate that much money to let someone else put it into THEIR enormous hilltop vault with a gold dollar sign on it that his only assurance at the existence of requires him to log into a website whose most intimidating security measure is refusing to cache his username.
I assume the robot edition will not be having any house rules regarding what the “free parking” space does. I also assume that having a computer screen 64% wider than when I started with the website has in the past 2.5 years made me feel like the same amount of text is less and that’s why I added another sentence here.
As every gimmick version of monopoly has a simpsons edition it is only fair that every simpsons gimmick has its own edition of monopoly.
Solly Humphrey the Humping Dog, KISSOPOLY still wins the absolutely shouldn’t exist contest. FRIENDS TRIVIA is disqualified on the grounds that I can’t tell what it is by my shoddy picture-taking. But there on the left, JOHN DEERE MONOPOLY! If there’s a perfect metaphor for the contemporary successful American, it’s John Deere Monopoly. Going completely out of your way to prove you love real man’s work and values and bootstraps while you invest in property, policies, and ways of life that have in mind absolutely none of the best interests of the people who actually do that work.
original least-altered Monopolite is still sold and these are not intended to replace it, and any business has an obligation to make useless derivations of their popular properties forever until those stop selling, but I wish they didn’t.
Monopoly the board game the video game has itself seen a few hundred incarnations since it started. What could possibly be in Monopoly3 that requires so much hard drive space? Not “new stuff,” clearly. Since the video game version never had rainbow money to begin with, Monopoly log3 can’t even remove that and call it a feature. And I saved that image in 2004 so they’re probably up to Monpoly log12 by now, which is 3 gigabytes in size, justified by the inclusion of technology which requires you to be connected to the internet at all times to reprove you didn’t steal Monopoly, the game of business ethics violations every day and also requires that you install Quicktime for some reason. That is a separate download. A few years ago my family rented a house (I acknowledge the seeming irony of including this in an essayoid with so many jipes at oafs with too much money; trust me that we absolutely couldn’t afford to do that) and the owners had a Playstation but the only games were generic racing and Barbie titles, plus Monopoly the game, because they bring their kids up RIGHT. This wasn’t even the same house that had the full run of Down East Magazine stored in the basement.
Lamentably I no longer have the pictures which document this because I was storing them at that point on a computer whom my brother challenged for unrelated reasons to a series of physical contests in which it was not victorious, so you’ll just have to imagine the excitement. I’m left to assume the owners were the most boring people in the world or they merely hid any game that they thought someone might want to steal.
Surprisingly the maccident wasn’t because the full size edition of this was sequestered within it, either.
You fool! That’s what they would want you to think if they were clever enough to think about things!
I really ought to learn to stop asking rhetorical questions around these parts.
Tuesday or thereabouts:
I just spent three-and-a-half days doing things I didn’t have time to do. Which is nothing new but usually I don’t not-do things all at once like that.
Sleep well, Canada: The Unknown chicken is defending your rights
I took this picture intending to say something which I now do not recall. I thought I should write it down but I believed as soon as I looked upon the thing I would remember. However, Dr. Oz is so unpleasant that my memory is impaired by the onset of inspiration as to how he is awful. Dr. Oz is as creepy as his name. He has no depth. He looks like an Edouard Manet painting. His head looks like a cheese sculpture. He looks like a puppet from Crank Yankers. He looks like Pat Sajak as a Ken doll. I don’t even know what California pseudoscientific field he’s associated with, just that I really do not trust him at all.
Well according to the internet, the only person who tells me things, unlike the last dork who got a television show exclusively through Oprah Winfrey being amused by his existence, Oz here is an actual doctor: a heart surgeon, which is potentially good for him, as far as my baseless assumptions amounting to nothing go. However, that means that I have to add a disclaimer admitting that my assumptions are baseless beyond him resembling a Nintendo 64 character. How is that fair?
In related news I don’t trust John Travolta, either.
Not that this guy is any better / thoroughly unroided. AWWWWWWWWWWW BANNNNNNNNNNNNNNN! At least Schwarzy seems to enjoy his life. This oaf looks miserable.
Another of my assumptions is that the not-yet-illegal jugs of megadust they’re pushing now aren’t a great improvement, safety-wise, over what this guy’s actually on, so they’re not even going to get you looking like this before you put yourself in a hospital with them. How is that fair?
And then I have a picture of my brother sending a text message while on a stretcher (following an entirely un-steroidy product-related issue) but the ambulance driver told me the HIPAA people can sue me for that because it violates some patient privacy business regardless of my relationship to the subject. They probably won’t but assuming they try I want to have a clear schedule when their representative posts goofy comments on this entry about how I’m not allowed to make fun of people who send me threats in the mail. Honestly, these have been waiting for three months. I can’t stand it.
Of course Arnold Schwarzenborzen also likes to sue people who talk trash about his steroid use, but I only implied that you were going into the hospital and in any event that’s probably not the worst thing I’ve ever said about him. No, that would be when I agreed with the decision to dub over his voice in Hercules in New York. Of course, I think his voice should have been dubbed by Arnold Stang so that he could talk to himself for most of the movie, but that’s likely because I have problems. Someday I will admit that I regret this. Until then it’s unofficial.
And some other day an anonymous wikipedia contributor will admit to regretting implying Arnold probably regrets more of his movies and promptly regret admitting this regret.
No, I don’t hate Shwarzenfruben. I like that scene in Total Recall where he wears a turban. Also, he stood up to the Undertaker.
June 17, threethousandnineteenthirtyfour:
Earth’s greatest hero, captivity enthusiast, thrice consecutively voted “Most likely to be stripped of clothing and sent to The Arena” and all-around white guy Flash Gordon is defeated by a backwards S (Roneldo’s whereabouts unknown). A truce was called when both sides realized they despised trousers. The kneeling fellow in the second frame is actually being executed for the sake of peace.
Annnnnnnnnnd evidently I have things to do.