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The only remotely ethnic restaurant I ever saw dominoes in was a pan-Asian establishment and it knew better than to serve pizza. The chefs there stick to what they know and preserve their dignity.

Also it’s the McRib, rather than the McRibs, or some McRib sandwiches. There’s just one riboid that returns year after year, because like other menu items it never decomposes and nobody wants to eat it. There’s nothing special in McRibs that should cause them to be scarce. We already went over this. Pay attention. It’s the same stuff that’s in the hamburgers pressed in a different mold and painted a different color and sprayed with a different flavor. They could make it out of broccoli and have it taste exactly the same and be eep times healthier but they don’t because people have some kind of weird pride about eating meat, even when it’s several stages removed and reformulated several times. One of the claims made to discredit Mr. Obama when he sought presidential space was that he ate arugula. Hey, he eats VEGETABLES. He CAN’T be American. Do you remember the big “story” that taco bell’s meat didn’t meat ah the legal meat requirement? Nobody cared to observe that the substitution was actually vegetable matter which we’d be better off replacing the entire contents with. They only wanted to say “ha ha, unnatural! Oh ho ho, fast food! Tee hee, verbs! OMG coffee”

Ah, truly? I must say I hadn’t expected this!

Oh fah uhl I figured you wouldn’t tell me!

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This is why capes are essential in everyday life.

Now you know the full story.

I “upgraded” word-press, the system which this website would function through if it could be said to do so. In fact I did this back in January and said as much at the time, but not in the proper entry body, but rather above that of another site entry, because I only intended it to be a brief notice, but then I wouldn’t stop talking and it occupied too much space. Since the primary intended matter of that bimshwipe took place in the past I decided that combined with the message from the present the piece then overall required time travel in excess of what was reasonable to make sense of. I corrected the problem immediately but I had to go forward a month to pay back the deficit.

What had prompted the word-pressure was when some alien being called “malware blacklist” called my email to congratulate my website for getting on the list, and warned me that my outdated copy of WordPress was a “high” security risk.

An add-on which is designed to remove garbage comments which would not work without me upgrading now works at last. However, the upgrade also broke the thing which allows me to open entries to comments which I had closed, because all the comments coming in were garbage, which amounts to the same thing, except if the add-on doesn’t actually work than I can’t close anything new either.

Although since that happened and I wrote about it in January it seems to have been repaired, you don’t know that, and in thatever situation the imps still float.

And don’t you think I’d leave if I could?

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You gotta know when to hold em, know when to fold em, and you too can make a stylish children linking arms paper-craft.

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Never make a sandwich with wet bread.

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Hoopay, I can eat an 18 inch circular pizza in one session again. This means I’m either due for a lot of new ideas and initiative or to be sick in the morning and annoyed that there isn’t any pizza left.

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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.

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.

Obviously the 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.

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I wonder how many times through history we’ve let some Carmen Sandiego-type villain make off with a roman aqueduct or a pyramid just because Interpol tried to go after them without the right warrant.

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I think I would do better on social networking sites if they dropped the social aspect. And the networking, as well. Thus I am here.

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I tried using a brush. maybe you can tell. The ink ran out too fast, though. The pen doesn’t hold enough ink and the brush holds even less. Or the same amount but it goes on thicker and thus needs to be redipped sooner. Whenever I DO get faster I decide more things need to have ink on them and so no time is saved.
I was able to reduce the grime by increasing the contrast. I could have done that last time but it removed some of my fainter cross-hatching. This time I realized that faint cross-hatching looks terrible in a digitally colored comic strip so I didn’t do any except when I forgot not to.

In fack this is 48 and a bit of 49 since that last update had a bit of 48 in it. I didn’t do five rows again because I took the art in a direction that doesn’t look good, make sense, or get drawn comfortably, and so I yet ponder the ensuing frames. Whoopth. We won’t be here long. Or they won’t, anyway. It will be four months at the least for us.

It’s just supposed to be a silly diversion before the dorks go where they mean to be going (which is also a silly diversion, since I never wrote an ending), so it shouldn’t take me a week to draw the outside of the building. I thought hey wouldn’t it be funny if I based this on a real place that I went to and just happened to have pictures of? No because nobody who will see this has heard of that place (even I forgot that) and there’s nothing inherently funny about it apart from the name, which I changed, and not even to something that rhymes with the original or that is legible at the size I wrote it. And yet this “page” probably has about the least amount of post-scan line modification I’ve ever had to do, so once I totally lose my ability to reconsider bad decisions, the drawings will be very solid.

I considered writing “grub hub” on the revised sign, but there is an actual website called that. Here it is being discussed at Chow Hound. I wonder how food dude will weigh in on this.

I know pretending I think SOPA is “SOAP” is really lame and obvious. I assumed it was, thinking I might have a decent angle on it. However, I legitimately do wash my hands in the dark and like imposing my weird habits on people. I have showered at least twice. Interpret that sentence any way you like.
This is a primary reason why I talk about pointless topics others don’t care about; I can have all the dumbest jokes to myself and not be concerned what lazy idiot I’ve never heard of already did it poorly and annoyed someone else I’ve never heard of in some never ending, never starting MC Escher gauntlet of unplacatable judgment of crimes which don’t matter (stop me if someone else on the planet has mistaken Escher for a rapper from the 1980s at some point in history). In fact the less people I’m aware of, the less I want to scream at. I’m a worse judge than anyone and can’t handle it very well, since I’d rather not yell at anyone louder than me. Additionally, when I see “hurr” or “derp” in a simulation of another human I lose my ability to consider it in a rational manner.

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The thing that is currently blocking wikehhhpedia is really wimpy and easy to turn off. Or am I missing the point? Or does my going to wikipedia with the intent to see what its blocking measure looks like and if I can get around it exhibit a fundamental missing of many potential points of my existence?

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I recently learned that some people were blacking out their internet in protest tomorrow of SOAP, the notorious remover of blessed and peaceful blackness through the centuries. Well it’s about time I say. With that in mind I upload some particularly grimy watercolor objects from last year, confident that as few people as possible will see them. Although I keep up the fight every day by washing my hands in the dark, I’m used to people taking years to catch up to my trendsetting ways.

Notice that neither of these is doing anything but they’re both not doing it in approximately the same fashion, and both deserve our harshest retribution for it. The one on the right is probably only slightly worse.

Every thing it does is an atrocity. Every act is reprehensible. Every deed is dirty. The bow tie animal could be one of the spaceballs. All it does are dirty deeds. This is interfering with my right as a citizen to protest cleanliness. It is outrageous that that THING is still on the streets. I mean, it should be on the streets. It should be tossed out of a window onto a street. Perhaps out of several windows onto several streets, and perhaps motor vehicles will more closely acquaint the animal with the streets. It’s THAT bad. The thing is horrid. HORRID. horr-id. Can it be stopped? I honestly do not know. Every day it gets horribler and horribler. Truly it is atrocious. Can anything really be THAT bad? Yes. But a little stupid animal? Yes. Do not give it any appreciation. Do not even pretend, to get it to shut up. It will not shut up. It’s so dumb it will think you mean that and think that means it should continue talking about its bowtie or its feet or whatever stupid thing it might talk about. You can only win by not letting it win.

I wrote this in 2010. I never posted it. Or so I say. Look, see, at the url. “http://bimshwel.com/?p=341.” Last week’s was 439. That PROVES that my website entries have numbers assigned to them. I reckon I could repost three solid years of old bimshwellians that I never found occasion to link back to at any point and say I hadn’t already posted them, when I had, but nobody would notice. Likewise if you were to hack into this (I doubt it’s hard) and repost them yourself I wouldn’t notice either.

What does RED mean to ME? I don’t know what it means. I don’t think about stuff that way. I can’t get punched in the nose at Shop Rite and then come home and fling paint angrily at a canvas for three hours and have something I think is great. Red, to me, is just a color which some things are. So I thought of some red things and made a picture with those in it. And then I added other irrelevant, distracting stuff that would confuse people. The person who sent the email said I didn’t have to deal with the THEME if I didn’t want to. Which meant I really had to, now, just to prove that I could. And like usual I figured it would take a lot less time than it did.

Well I thought it did. Making computer stuff is considerably easier for me than real stuff. Hence why I did it there, first, but I figured I could copy it well enough. I also probably grossly overestimated how much time New Haven art enthusiasts spend watching the intro sequences to old Sega Genesis games.

Hmmmyes… fascinating.

Well maybe the picture isn’t ideal but it’s good enough. Anyway, this isn’t at the small space gallery like last time.
You remember the small space gallery, don’t you? Well I do. It’s a place that is not really an art gallery at all, it’s somebody’s office with a few pictures stuck to the [evidently incomplete] walls. THIS time, though, my object was going up in the Sumner McKnight Crosby Jr. Gallery. Things are getting a might bit fancy now.

Yaztaplazca! It’s the old switcheroo! I ought to have been fooled by nothing less than the new switcheroo!

Darth Snack Mix returns again. This may even be the same bowlful from last time and nobody dared to move it.

I think I was the youngest person in there and the only one whose goals were in any way absurd or narrative-y. While it’s nice to not feel old, for once, if the only fellow ar teests who “get” what I do are kids I’d rather be around them than pretentious snobs who honestly think smearing red paint on a rectangle and taping newspaper headlines to it is worth charging $500 for.

I did like this red clock, even if there’s no apparent reason why it should be red as opposed to purple, periwinkle or a normal clock color. I think the label says Michael Johnson. I suppose I ought to have read it at some point. The title of the piece appears to be “Mullet Trap.” Alright so the guy’s name might not be Michael Johnson.

I thought since I had actually painted something and was offering the actual thing I’d made rather than a copy, I should have a proper frame for it, rather than look for a cheap one at walmart that the thing would fit within. The fancy frame would have cost $112 somehow. So I decided not to have a frame. This is but a matte and only cost $24. Much like with my digital prints the bottom edge was cut off, but unlike my prints that is because this is actually for a reason and the person who did it was conscious of where my signature was. I wouldn’t want to bring shame upon the famous E. Cunni by associating it with this anyhow.

That fool has some talent!

Beans that settles it. I’m going somehwere else to get my prints made.

And then I’m coming back again.

I saw this reflected on the inside doors of the elevation chamber when I went to drop this off (the elevator was shiny) and observed that the large figure’s head is incredibly lopsided. Not that it’s turned to one side; it actually appears to be melting. the ears and the eyes are both at different heights. The pine cone is tilted, to the left, the opposite direction that the other stuff seems to be going in. I was trying to compensate for the right shift without realizing it. I don’t have an easel, nor space for one. All “real” things that I do are seen almost exclusively flat on my desk. Distorted. Always. And this thing is going to hanging up until september. Urgik.

I called it “vegnarok” because the only other thing I could think of at the time was “vegarmageddon.” I didn’t realize that invoking ragnarok implied one side was evil. The point here is that both sides are victims. I later decided “Saladnarok” was a much better title and requested that the name be changed, but I apparently only succeeded in altering one letter.

None of these names, in fact, are accurate, because the stuff shown is actually produce; much of what is involved is fruit, but I was not thinking with efficiency, and in any event I couldn’t find some way to work in any part of the word in which it was evident that was the word I had used. “Warduce?” “Broduce vs broduce?” (this was the year before I declared war on “bro”) Nothing good. “Folic Heroics?” “The seeds of war?” Oh that one’s almost clever. “Salad Oppressing?” “You war what you eat” alright that one’s just stupid. I eventually thought of “Ragnarcrop,” but I didn’t like the way it sounded. Which doesn’t make any sense because “saladnarok” puts emphasis on the “lad” which one doesn’t do when pronouncing “salad” unless reciting a poem about fads and doodads (putting emphasis on the lad sounds illegaler than it is).

I also thought of “farmageddon” but a quick google search revealed two different things calling themselves that, one of them a non-existent yet perfectly hypey computer cartoon series based on a comic strip that ran somewhere, allegedly, for two years in the early 90s with a wikipedia page written by the authors four years ago, and I suddenly thought of myself as considerably less clever. The animals talk, though.

I was required to prepare a typed “artist’s statement” in order for the thing to be displayed. I didn’t know how to do that so I supplied this instead.

Hello! I am called Brendan Cunningham. I make pictures sometimes. Many of them can be found on bimshwel.com, which is a website.

That’s done! My artist statement! It wasn’t so bad. I was worried I’d get myself in trouble. People are so easily offended in a dumpstervania like New Haven.

I didn’t include the last line.

I was trying to be as sincere as possible without seeming boring. The problem there is that in actuality I am both boring and insincere.
I discovered later that the artist’s statements were not displayed anywhere near the art or indeed anywhere near anything so it would not necessarily be clear what I was talking about when the time came for somebody to see this. So I was boring, insincere and irrelevant. I astound myself.

This is the best painting I have ever done, which would be a significant statement if I had ever made a good painting.

I should stick with acrylic paint, though, I think; that is the paint for indecisive mistake-makers who draw in pencil first. This is gouache. And after four days of looking at it I have a gou-ache.

^{And I know it’s not pronounced like that but it is spelled like that.}

I can’t believe I didn’t put a pumpkin in here. It would have been much more clear than the coconut-with-orange-slices-attached-to-it mace in the upper right quadrant.

on the positive side I now have one more thing I can do badly.