What the horehound is horehound? The look of this packaging makes me think the company only chose this as a flavor so they could act wise and worldly by elevating themselves above people who have never heard of it. “Why, you’ve never heard of horehound? Well sit right down there and let me spin you a tale.” I hate the word tale! Why do people have to talk in ways that make me mad!
Well mice it is about time. I can finally end my hunger strike. Because you know apparently i couldn’t have “that” old fashioned wild cherry flavor before (No not that one, the other one). Or maybe I just wouldn’t because cherries are terrible, and artificial ones more so. Cherry pies are cherrible. Strawberry is much better. Even raspberries and cranberries are better. Certainly I doubt old fashioned fake cherries are more pleasant than new fashioned ones. This probably tastes like Robitussin. Arrrf i can hear in my mind the deliberately, proudly glib bland appalachian announcer telling me to “try some today” without a slice of emotion. This is supposed to appeal to people who see billboards for Cracker Barrel that say garbage like “Come in and sit a spell” and think “now that’s REAL america.”
This one said “eats, treats treasures,” and the treasure is apparently their boring peg jump game. It is an interesting thing to have at your table, I suppose, for a restaurant, for three minutes, but nothing that entices me to pull off the road. My camera refused to take a better picture under threat of throwing itself under the wheels of the next truck that came along.
Here are better pictures that other people took using cameras with less self-respect.
Hey you driving a car presumably to a destination, wouldn’t you rather, instead of doing something with your life, like to stop and play a game of checkers over a storage container while the anxiety that you are wasting your precious minutes of free time on something that takes forever and is boring slowly burns away at your last scrap of sanity? It’s like living with a toddler on purpose forever. Please observe that n’ has an apostrophe but dumplins does not. The barrel is gradually crackin’ away at our language so that it becomes not necessary to acknowledge when you spelled something a stupid way on purpose.
Wowie al-zarkawi, I get to PAY to eat GREEN BEANS. Or maybe I just get to pay for the right to strain them. Gosh I am supposed to believe this ad won an award. I think it was the bored award.
Cracker barrel is so cutting edge in being deliberately regressive that I cannot even make its terrible video full screen. Can’t have me stealing their secrets after all by seeing their logo at a legible size (But I can play its depressing banjo fiddle music as loud as I want). Yeehaw let’s have a hoedown at cracker barrel. Let’s all settle in for old fashioned country cookin’ and dysentery. Let’s eat like we live in a covered wagon –excuse me, waggin’– and don’t have access to anything that is designed to stay edible in a non-refrigerated environment. Biscuits again? Oh boy oh boy oh girl get in the kitchen.
cracker barrel is really rackin’ em up. Here its nationally distributed supermarket cheese that is most of a certainty constructed in a thoroughly modern factory facility has won an award for another cheese having won an award. You might say: hold on there skrimpfy, the cracker barrel cheese brand is owned by Kraft, and unaffiliated with the restaurant chain, which it actually predates, and that only isn’t obvious because the Kraft logo disqualifies a product from accolades of any sort. And I would tell you for beets sake stop calling me skrimpf five years ago!
The very same Kraft which coonskin cap pioneered the Creep ‘n Crackers self-application process. They will need a barrel to carry all the awards this deserves. Hopefully not the one I am hiding from them in.
At GNC the store, you need to specially ask for a health supplement that is not candy. Everything in here is kool aid/nesquik drink mix, undersized baby ruth bars or magically nastier jolly-ranchers. If you are legitimately concerned about your nutrition you should eat actual food. You would feel better and still have money left over to spend on real candy. Even if you paid somebody to make it for you it would probably cost less. GNC means “General Nutrition Center” but the sort of nutrition offered is rather bizarre.
I realize these are called “supplements,” which means they are meant to be used in addition to a normal diet, but captain crunch claims it is part of a complete breakfast. I am inclined to believe most people do not use these in that way because they get drawn in by mentions in this sort of publication, and also it is easier to laugh at the idea of people being reasonable if they are not.
Dr. Dan CNN BVD is way too enthusiastic about red yeast rice
If you knew me in middle school, you know I will put anything in my body if a bunch of guys with big shoulders and a token little guy who has rich parents tell me to do it while they laugh at me. Now things are different; I require them to have white jackets on.
Or blue ones, sir, please, whatever you want.
Hey did you know that GNC delivers for FREE? no probably not because if you were paying attention to financial matters you would notice that you just paid $25 for a little bottle of rice. You can buy a 60 pound barrel of rice for that money. It would not be RED, of course, but if you starve yourself effectively enough you may be able to cough up some blood on to it.
Somebody at some point in the management chain is certain I will magically steal their recipe for yeast rice with my camera, so the employee on the job had to task of suggesting that I not take pictures of the product, even though I think it would have done a better service to their business if they had stopped me from taking the first picture. In any event this was probably the least de-humanizing “do not take pictures of our property” demand I had experienced.
I am sure you are curious: the most de-humanizing “do not take pictures of our property” demand was when I was friendless, drenched in some rather unreasonable rain, cold, lost and hopelessly behind on school assignments that I could not tend to for another whole day of wasteful anxiety, in an apparently affluent and therefore more entitled to make visitors hate themselves section of London, amidst my ill-ehhhed Paris visit of July 2013. Scorned by the rich, dry, well-fed scumbags with no regard for
no please I have had enough red yeast rice I am feeling better now please!
Anyway I started to type that story for here and it was surprisingly depressing!
In fact most things related to my French experiments were depressing. Sometimes I worked harder than was required or likely to be appreciated to make them so.
1 I dwell in an apartment with my two brothers whom I rarely see. I am sad and ridiculous.
2 My friends and I, together we never talk on the telephone. They think I am boring.
3 The American men watch the French films, but they do not understand. They eat always.
4 The American women prepare dinner for the men. They (females) are unhappy.
The firefox spellchecker, unaware that I had switched from English, insisting that every word was wrong, may have had a subconscious inferiority effect on me. If forced to talk about myself I was unwilling to present a false impression of my existence. And it got sadder than that since one of the brothers left right away, to be replaced by slightly less trustworthy sorts and the other was barely around to sort out the replacement, whom I imagined it was not my position to criticize since I had not invited him in there, and if I had he would have been my GUEST and yet less deserving! So when actual depressing things happened to me in France or as a direct result of me going there I ought to have been prepared to explain, but the more depressing fact was that I failed to pick up any of the language in two years beyond the ability to read a few words that pertained directly to depressing aspects of my then home life and they had little resemblance to the circumstances of my later depressing outside of home life.
I wonder if I wrote things like that because I wanted to make people concerned so they would ask how I was doing.
It was always upsetting to find out they just dropped in to see what condition my toilet was in.
A series of more overt outbursts recently on the internet, the sort I avoided at people for on Livejournal 10 years ago made me realize no, I do not want most people to ask how I am doing. It will be unpleasant unless I am doing better, and when I am doing better I will feel less bad about not being asked. The problem solves itself!
I have an idea. I will change the subject.
Here is a depressing fountain.
I will have to try again later!
Fortunately I at least have mildly consistent internet access.
An older picture I recently altered to make prints of for a pumpkin-themed event
See if you can guess which table is mine
(hint: it is the one with the lamest merchandise that the least number of people are looking it)
I sold nothing, but I sold nothing at higher prices than I had ever sold nothing at before. Partially at the urging of the venue owner, and partially because for all my stabs at integrity it means nothing once I can blame something that feels like a lapse on someone else. It also means I now must keep that price consistent or else the people I showed the high price to will get angry when they see something less than that. Or they would if any had paid it.
Anyway, in addition to some free iced tea they were nice enough to let me have the featured artist space for January, (though the decision came prior to my recent performance) and I will have pictures on walls inside the restaurant, which will not have interaction with me as a condition to owning one. The scenario also is feasible that somebody may buy a picture just to get it OFF the wall so that food may be consumed more peacefully. I am intrigued to discover how I will mess this up.
This was an improvement on my last event, where there were mystery boxes dumped directly in front of my table which visitors used for sitting on while facing away from me and eventually for standing facing toward when all the boxes were taken. I would rather fail because of what I did than have nobody know I did anything. When that happens my goal becomes to make people know what I did, and I might not consider that I did something pathetic. After this week I feel like I have taken another step toward my ultimate goal of giving up. After all these months of distractions and setbacks it is nice to be making progress again.
Additionally, you may have become aware of the three for the moment unsightly link “buttons” now at the top of the main bimshwel page. If you had not then now you have, in a sense. One attempts to connect to whatever this is.
In the past i have given out “business” cards to people at events like these, but nothing ever comes of it because if anyone entered the website URL mentioned on the card, instead of art details they would see instead endless rambling about supermarkets and dumb things people do on the internet (such as write about it). Now they can find pictures, if they wait a few seconds for those awful “buttons” to load, and then they can see the pictures and think “yep, that’s the stuff I didn’t buy prints of today sold by that awkward weirdo who kept saying ‘hello’ out of forced habit but had no natural social inclinations beyond that. Gosh that was upsetting. Why did I take this card?”
I intend to make the awful buttons less awful, but I also intend to go running once in a while and eat pizza less often.
Ideally, the gallery’s rather default-looking setup is only temporary. Even so, it is rather nice for something free, I think. And unlike other free galleries, when something does not work it is not done deliberately as a ruse to try and sell me non-free version. It might be unethical for me to use something free as a means to make a profit, but I have not actually considered any way to use this for that purpose. I imagine I could send art-work through the mail. My imagination usually gets me into trouble.
Here is what my ridiculous imps would look like if I had business sense. More gimmicky, impossible to tell who drew them, and seemingly ripped off of other commercial properties. Is this an official spinoff of trolls or little ponies or care bears or an unrelated venture trying to chase the same buckwagon? People only relate to things that I do not relate to. They want to buy things that remind them of other things they have been ordered to buy. I would never buy one, and thus I am ill-equipped to make something that a buyer of these would buy.
Of course this display was gone the next time I came into the store and I have never encountered the name “zelfs” since nor had I prior to then (and I must be clear that I do not desire to), but that can also be desirable. If your soulless, derivative, cynical grab at money fails, you want everyone to have forgotten it by the time you make your next attempt at reminding people of stuff that worked. You might notice that is the opposite of my personal feeling, where I prefer to be remembered and to not remind anyone of anyone else. If I saw something that reminded me of me and it made money I would get mad, because then I would need to change me to seem like I wasn’t copying me.
It is common, on the art websites I use, for a participant to become infuriated at “art theft,” in which somebody tries to sell another person’s pictures and collect money for it. I don’t even matter enough for anyone to bother. I would probably doubt that if I heard it happened. If it was TRUE and it worked I would consider trying to take the perpetrator on as a business partner (an unbiased observer might advise that person to turn me down). The closest I came to “art theft” was when I taped a huge pencil drawing to a wall beside a door at the university while I went to retrieve some other things, and it fell off, and somebody picked it up and walked off with it because it looked like abandoned garbage rather than a legitimate finished project that the artist was trying to take home. When the person was persuaded by police intervention to give it back I almost felt bad. I felt like I had ruined several people’s days (not including mine). I wanted to thank the unidentified taker for wanting it. The party which I retrieved it from offered no comment on the quality. I might have let the person keep it but I had not scanned it yet and I needed to bring it back at the end of the semester for a grade anyhow (rubbish generally gets a better grade than nothing at all). Currently it is on a shelf smaller than itself behind me with other things stacked on it and probably no longer in displayable or theftworthy condition.
Pet products fascinate me, because they are, generally, a total frivolity marketed at the buyer but not the consumer. I do not have pets. I have probably said so before, but I dislike somebody who is needy, erratic, unable to be reasoned with and can never be expected to grow out of that. That job is already taken in my house.
I am jealous of dogs. I have to brush my teeth constantly but dogs just get to eat meat flavored cookies shaped for some reason like pieces of dead bodies and apparently that’s enough.
Ah, wonderful. What can you tell me, Roy?
Lovely. Like what?
Is that so! How does it pertain to this situation.
Please don’t talk to me anymore, Roy.
This bag contains little dogs to feed to your big dog.
Similarly, the anthromoporphic dog here wants to eat his normal dog deputy. I assume. I hope he’s not mouthily lusting over that big peanut on a fork. That would be weird, and then this product would need to be recalled.
If it WAS recalled, and discontinued, that certainly would not be because thousands of people reported that their dogs became sick/dead from kidney failure after eating these things because they were made from imported Chinese poultry meat. The New York state factory just happened to flunk the antibiotic test and the owner has no intention of using meat that does not contain antibiotics (or letting one of its factories outside New York get inspected), because these are legally considered SAFE, in China, even though the investigation only happened because of people reporting that the product was harmful and the discovered health code violation was entirely coincidental. Do you understand? Explain it to me after class.
This is the Nestle corporation, after all. It only inadvertently kills human babies [in the 1970s].
You can also buy Waggin Train products in Canada, because the dogs there really culturally identify with the covered wagon mythos. Also, they are more humble and less likely to complain than American dogs when they get poisoned.
Still, getting back on topic,
It has been my experience that peanuts are weird, at least.
And some peanuts are totally normal and pleasant.
And a reasonable reader would know very well that’s not what I meant and that nobody should do that.
You are atrocious.
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.
I was thinking another day well wax my eyebrows is that character creepy (yes (although I was kidding about the eyebrows. If I knew I had the power to command you I would advocate a less abrasive form of eyebrow removal)). But we must do our best to preserve it.
Otherwise diapered, presumably for good reason, fiends may escape. Speaking of weird fruit, since the digression I started writing after looking at the url on this box quickly became too unsettling to be salvageable, here comes an apple.
I could not help being amused by coming across it but I wonder what I’d think if there were a “delusional genderless fag that can’t stop picking at sunburnt skin brand” of pancake mix. Probably a painful sensitivity to physical sensations and all forms of movement.
A better question about apples: why doesn’t this one eat itself out of existence? How can we protect our kids from trouser-eschewing apple beasts that are the same size as them?
There is nothing fancy about forgetting to wear pants!
I hope this picture was supposed to convince me that I erred in speaking that because it didn’t and this lizard’s failures brings me satisfaction.
I prefer not to ponder what if anything adorns this creature’s legs. Hopefully it lacks legs altogether. Unless that allows it to fly. I may not sleep again.
Good news! I did not transform into a turnip.
Margarita salt, made from salt. Nothing else. You might be curious how that makes it inherently margarita-y and not just a box of salt but I remind you that it is shaped like a hat.
I spent more time confined to an automobile today than I expected and productivity was mysteriously minimal, and thus I have only a hastily assembled bad website entry rather than a laborious bad website entry.
I was fortunate to dispatch this crucial transmission at all.
Fortunately the car party was eventually directed to safety by the magical yellow shrek ghost that appeared from amongst the Food Lion generic Lucky Charms. It’s an interesting reversal; the lucky charms come out of the leprechaun, but the shrek ghost is born directly of the cereal. Pardon me, did I say interesting, I meant… well in fact I am interested by that idea.
I had become distressed in recent years that the store brand totally necessary cereal mascots were better than the national brands they were supposed to be worse than. It was kind and benevolent of the vicious, dynastic lion to set things back as they ought to be. There was a cereal called “fruit rings” whose character was so dopey looking that I didn’t want a picture of it and didn’t think I’d have anything to say about it. Yesp.
This will do, however. Look, it’s even blurry. That’s just unprofessional.
I had never been to a Food Lion store before. Not just because my house is 500 or more miles from any but also because lions are just dangerous. This is exhibited in the lion’s unwillingness to carry natural foods or low sodium variants of products. I was fortunate to escape with my life. This product is notable because in most other stores this would be the worst merchandising character I found.
I do not consider movie cinemas stores.
This, I was referring to. This can probably be found in other joints than Food Lion. However, I generally cannot also be found in them. Because in those situations I hide or wear a disguise.
I did say most other stores. As I’ve only been inside an Aldi one time my “most” holds up. I believe it was the great sage Eminem who spoke “be smart, don’t be a retart.” However, he never warned me about becoming a toast-tart, and thus I did. This is not a picture of me, though. I just told you I wear a disguise! You’d never recognize me in my fancy hat. I hire a salt company to smuggle them inside of stores for me in case I forget.
Millville can put shiny photoshop eyes and a mouth on anything. Don’t think they won’t. Please don’t challenge them.
An inifinite possible number of seperate, ever thinner, fully sentient, utterly immobile bread slice face-oids can be yours for less than the price of a box of cereal from most reputable dealers and precisely equal that price from millville.
The psychotic turtle is probably the sanest of the many millville mascots, and therefore the least interesting. In fact I’m so bored I’m turning this website entry off. I suggest you do the same!
I am trying to write the next thing, but it is very boring. So watch out.
Even Wikipedia does not know why Craig Slist wants me to support Wikipedia.
All it knows is that Jaffa Cakes are very controversial.
I think it has something to do with cakes being considered “food” and biscuits being considered snacks. If they have chocolate on them. Because that’s just the way the English do things. You couldn’t very well have your afternoon tea without cake, could you? Why it’s the most important meal of the day old boy. As it is also the only one without bacon in it, a suitable substitute is required. Next they’ll be wanting to tax our chip butties and our monocles, what?
The issue on that page is whether or no it’s relevant that Jaffa was in Palestine at the time when Jaffa cakes were invented, even though it isn’t, since these things are Jaffa-y in name only, but I suppose it doesn’t hurt to be aware. Here, though, it is only brought up to be a source of contention, because a surprisingly large amount of people have been killed over what a very small geographical region is called and this makes everything right. Jaffa has also been a part of the Byzantine and Ottoman empires, just not at the time when a silly sugary object was created elsewhere by people oblivious to the conflict.
I have eaten some. They are rather a bit like hostess cupcakes… and those are neither cookie nor cake. I’m not sure what they are. Not “natural,” certainly. They’re whatever pop tarts are. Some weird manufactured things that are too soft to be cookies, but too industrial to be cakes.
The picture on the box is, not surprisingly, enlarged to seem larger. I neglected to take a picture of this box to prove that to you, but I’ve requested that you believe stranger things than that which is printed there. “The squidgy orange bit,” as the package so regrettably refers to the squidgy orange bit as, is never centered and always has a clear seam around it which makes it look simultaneously smaller and uninvited. Yet the box claims both the biscuit itself and the orange part are considerably larger than they were at some unspecified previous point in time, a thought which upsets me. These things are schmofully inadequate as they are.
As to where I acquired Jaffa cakes, myself being a resident of some united states, I went to Big Y, the WORLD CLASS MARKET. It is a classy market of the world. It brings me classy goods from all over the world. Small, local, struggling brands from far off places often find their ways into the big y’s famous shelves.
Ahoy there, rabies! I done found the carbonated treasure yup.
Whaaaaa? Can I do nothing to change your mind? It would be a dark fact indeed if you left. The morning just doesn’t grow the same without you! You simply must stay!
Please do not be angry, Adol! That is not what I wanted at ol!
Alas, what a tragic existence! I can already feel my life pulsing toward ruin. I hate to spend valestine castle’s day alone!
Wait, come back! I have good news!
That’s the spirit. Though I think you’re supposed to drink the stuff rather than dump it and sail over it.
All I want to do is eat.
I’ve witnessed some low and tacky attempts to get people to view a website before, but a newspaper promising the opportunity to watch actual kids die is new to me. Hence why it’s in the news paper, I suppose. And this is the New Haven Register,
but I think it ought to be held to SOME standard, if it wants its demise to actually be lamented when the only thing left is the CNN-style news it’s supposed to be better than. Still, it is, at least, not as bad as West Haven,
whose newspaper is apparently an ad that looks up my ip address to find out what towns I live near but is otherwise oblivious to matters of local interest. I think they should do some fact checking, though, since I am in Madison, and I can’t, anyhow, give much credence to breaking news that is a question. Can I? Get the story straight before you FLASH me, please. However, you see, it MUST phrase the headline/onlyline as a question because
it’s trying out for Jeopardy! google actually isn’t Hiring Americans To Work From Home and this, like every ad that’s ever appeared in its own window, is a trap of tricks. Implied untruths and and false representation of your business are a-cocaine, thankfully. I do praise it for finally figuring out what state I’m in;
I was getting annoyed at being associated with those weird, beard, fail-happy Alabama homeowners.
I do find it funny –and oh ho ho, how I laugh!– that WEST HAVEN, among other incorrect guesses, is the town it goes with to appeal to me. West Haven is the trashiest town in Connecticut. EAST Haven, home of the discarded McDonald’s bags and shopping carts-in-marshes, at least has Tweed Airport in it so if you steal enough wallets you may be able to afford a ticket to a real airport from where you can imagine you might go somewhere nice one day. This here… is Chicago, near Midway Airport. I took pictures here specifically because it reminded me of West Haven (despite it being superior by virtue of the exit station). Low buildings with voids behind them, overgrown fenced lots with no apparent function, absence of non-homeless pedestrians because the only active businesses are gas stations… the sort of things that make one glad to only be passing through. I know this is Chicago, though, because I remember seeing lots of billboards for “The Princess and the Frog” while I was there, which no town in Connecticut is worth outbidding creationism enthusiasts for the attention of. No, I don’t have a picture of that, but try driving through Meriden sometime. Considering how they feel about apes, I reckon they wouldn’t cotton to the idea of people evolving from frogs.
Chicagaw, though, and I can’t think why, has ad space to spare. So, anyway, there’s a guy with a purple hat and a gap in his teeth. He is the princess. And so the fat alligator with a trumpet must surely be the frog, because those are the only two characters I recall seeing on the signs.
Here is a sign with a frog, in Connecticut, outside Ocean State Job Lot, which is like the equivalent of a Wal Mart brand Wal Mart. Christmas Tree Shop[s] laugh[s] at Ocean State Job Lot. Job Lot laughs right back, though, since people actually steal from there. Ocean State Job Lot is not to be confused with Big Lots, though I’m sure it wouldn’t mind and neither would notice. Ocean State Job Lot doesn’t have the endorsement of megastars like Coach’s Jerry Van Dyke. Just frogs.
Such an honor! Anyone would feel like a princess.
Howdy. I type “howdy” a great deal more frequently than I say it.
Why does every store I go into have “boogie-woogie santa claus” on its custom mix loop? That’s easily the fifth most embarrassing Christmas song.
Obama asks moms to clap their elbows together. Previously I identified this motion as “weird turning situps,” ever the brilliant wordsmith, forgetting –and I can’t think why I’d want to forget such brilliant marketing– that at no point in the sequence does the woman sit up. She just does the horizontal chicken dance ad infinitumptious. Which is ironic, since chickens don’t have teeth. We will see that teeth are vitally important in this matter soon enough.
Note that this crummy, deteriorated, cropped gif file is a full 20 kilobyes bigger than the full flash animation, which uses jpeg-compressed frames. These fine advertisers UPGRADED to bring us superior quality of needless, inexplicable animation loops.
Get with the program, Home owners! First you gave that baby epilepsy and now you’ve ruined this citizen’s teeth. You’d better hop to it before a problem arises that has not yet been solved through use of a secret technique discovered by a mom in a different banner ad about awful teeth, or before Obama asks that mom to return to school.
Home owners versus teeth round 2. By now they’ve weirded out all their roommates, family members and hostages with their weird teeth (even if it IS good dental work for Alabama) and have taken to living in their cars. But does this guy REALLY know what he’s talking about?
Will Wright, inventor of Simcity, Simant, The Sims and Chlamydia, at his regular job often has no helpful advice for me. I don’t think that’s actually him but I always imagined he looked like that and would put himself in his own game for some reason. Either way, he’s on the town council and making me uncomfortable. Now I really AM in Creep City. “No no no, you do what you want, and I’ll complain if it isn’t what I would have done.” I feel like we’re married OOH GOTCH YA, marriage!
He used to have a beard, but he shaved it off
and gave it to this fellow, who was so happy he proceeded to launch several homemade fireworks he built in his shoes.
But hark! I hear the sound of another picture approaching.
Howdy is never a good sign.
“Dr.” Bennifer Ankle Wright, economist, lawyer, and actor, chief contributing editor of 20eh’s worldwide financial clowndown. The whole family was in on it. See the full story in my upcoming book, Oh oh ah uh oh, the Wright Stuff, coming swoon from Gorbo publications. Thank you and goodwelcome.