Werther wasn’t original, Werther was a HACK. Werther was about as original as a Disney channel original movie. Und so ve haf another stunning rediscovery from the Dead Sea Scronelldos:
High School Musical, the book. Or rather, The Junior Novel, which in addition to sounding twice as stupid, suggests there is a senior novel. Some kind of parent version that’s just as bad, but with a considerably stronger sense of entitlement, not to mention a Denny’s discount. I suppose Da Vinci code cash in books would meet that need, though they have a ripeload more pages. Probably better songs, too.
Those little yellow letters do indeed spell out Based on the hit Disney Channel Original Movie.
See? Ehhh well, that’s why I read it to you!
The orange triangle bears “With 8 pages of photos of the stars!” The stars surely being the proofreaders, the typesetters, the screenplay goons and the adaptation cronies. And also the wizard who made those rainbow kids in the cover picture float like that.
I love a book with illustrations, but I suspect these photographs would leave me disappointed. Similarly, there must be better ways to keep angsty teens quiet than to convert their noise to print.
I discovered some time I after this book that not only was the actual High School Musical that is, the musical version quite popular, it was extremely popular. I don’t know if it was any good, nor do I presume as much; considering that one of the most beloved of the genre is the extremely wretched Grease, I wouldn’t put much faith in it.
Yeah, well, you’re not far behind.
And any thing which depicts standard high schools as properly functioning, nevermind harmonious entities is reprehensible in additional ways.
Disney didn’t even bother to give this thing a title. They just used the category genre slot label they built before any filming, writing or thinking was done. “Hey, the boss wants a high school musical by Thursday. You two thousand, get on it. I need jocks and geeks obsessing over matters of passing importance, STAT.” Meanwhile, my masterwork, a rocketship made entirely out of corn has dawdled almost unfinagled for over a year.
During my requisite needlessly complicating research, I learned that the subject was sufficiently succussful to allow for a high school musical 2.* Yet save for a few misplaced artifacts like this one (I may have actually moved it from elsewhere, but I no longer recall doing so), I would never have known about either. Just like Lindsee Lohan and a wide assortment of Duffs, who I long refused to believe were actually famous. That’s the power of the Disney machine. It can cultivate these genetic, generic horrors in total secrecy, advertise the hamburger helper out of them yet manage to have them only be seen by the specific people who will love them unconditionally and buy all things associated with them, which apparently includes novelized music. And somehow this is a lot of people. This and the STAT function on calculators are my current top two non-understood things. It’s true I’m not in contact with the public at large, or even the public at small, but I know things! I caught wind of facebook, I knew about Sour Skittles, I learned about Halo 2, I heard about nights out in the school yard, I found out about yoooooooou.
No! Only 25 on the Hot 100! Like, gag!
*to anyone who insists Disney will make a sequel to anything, I remind that there has never been a Meet the Deedles 2. Still, we ought to be aware that for sixty-three years there also was no Bambi 2.
NOW [that’s what [someone, surely] call[s] music] Octothorpe-Ones, for people who don’t have time to hear the prechewed audio assaults that were slightly less popular than others. I envy you, really, I do. I wish there was a massive assemblage of billionnaires who knew exactly what I wanted and were willing to sell it to me at an alleged markdown.
Oh my gawrsh! Is that Neon Bible? Quick! Turn it off! It only debuted at 2 on the US charts! Ehhhwahh?! This new iPod only has one button and I’m too agitated to press it the right way! Help! Subcultures are stealing my soul! I’m turning goth! I’m turning emo! I’m turning Japanese! Ahhhhhhhgathaaaa! That only reached spot 36! Nooooooo…!
The fact that past NOW albums have already compiled these in as close a proximity to Kidz being Bopped is of no consequence. That statistically, the intended buyers already own all the albums, or at least the singles these songs come from to have made them “#1s,” doesn’t change that you want this. And you can have it! It’s there for you! Go get it!
Well, thither goeth my weekend. Kudos granola snacks to Darth Kommissary for broadening his musical horizons by listening to NOW albums for one specific track and totally baffling me as to how he made his choice. 4 out of 5 people similarly baffle me when they aren’t recommending Oral-B toothbrushes. I happen to use one myself.
Maybe modern times and issues have made me needlessly paranoid, but I still think there’s something a bit unsettling about a large hatted, mustachioed man with an incomplete name leading any expedition labelled FOR KIDS ONLY. He surely does this a lot, too, if he went and had the stamp made. Even my standard monocle bonus cannot completely cancel the residue of such behavior. To think that an embodiment of colonialist values would sink to such lows! I must obtain an official statement on the matter.
Oh. Well, that’s perfectly acceptable. Please forgive my suspicions.
It does strike me as just a bit odd that a man so dressed made his fortune selling sun-block lotion. He has a tie on, for frog’s sake. He’s probably wearing gloves, too. If he hasn’t seen fit to employ long pants, excuse me, trousers then undoubtedly knee-high socks complement his jungle boots.
It is worth at this point acknowledging that I choose to keep my own skin adorned with fabric through the summer months, but I’ll not be seen sinisterly lurking at beach clubs attended primarily by swim-attired children.
That’s what the cameras are for.
Sometimes I write topical things and forget about them. Yet I regard this as no less relevant. If it is not relevant now, that only means it never was.
I remember a box of weeks ago when people were mad, people were outraged because Melinda Doobinkum was deleted from Americ- I don’t even want to spell it out. I refuse to contribute another instance of the name. I’m just going to call it Questionable Singing Contest TV Show, which is probably its title in Japan anyway.
Oh oh! She deserved to win! Yet once more you acknowledge that the whole thing is meaningless and the “voting” has no legitimacy! And again, once more you continue to watch, because you take what you’re given and you like it. Watching dancing with the starbursts out of protest proves nothing, because it appeals to the same interest (otherwise it would be “Dancing With the Dancers”) and probably shares a lot of sponsors.
I ask: why “outrage?” Every one of those thongadips is getting a record contract. Bucky McPhee and Kopiu J. Plimpton and one very charismatic tea kettle. The not-quite winners still go on every talk show and are legally forbidden from singing because they’re still owned by Sony BMG. That’s a crafty company. Don’t forget it found a way to stay in business selling entire albums for 1 cent. Or at least one of the 573 former record companies it currently owns the properties of did. Persons who are eliminated prior to the hokey moan-offs get contracts out of pity. Yonk, they’re often more famous than the winners. I don’t know who got the big prize, but for some reason I know who San Jaya is. I know that he was only kept on the show as a joke and was generally thought to be resented even by the people who watch that show, many of the dumbest people in America, who maintain lists of favorite ads. Yet still somehow it stomped over here, dumped a bucket of nuts on me and made itself my business. It’s upsetting.
If Sanji was there in error, why was he a big deal during it and afterwards? Why was he first guest material? Why were there more montages of Sanjaiuh hair styles than actual Sanjaya hair styles? Because he’s a big star! Even the atomic diaper in the audience who cried watching him is more famous than 98% of the world’s population. I want to cry just hearing about it. Where’s my international prime grade air time?
Not surprisingly, Simon Cowbell gets a cut of every one’s benefits. Whoever wins, he wins. Whoever loses, he wins. Whoever cries in the audience, he wins! By the way, he also
has had American Inventor coming up just in time to get him and cronies some money and exclusive rights for the summer, too. A lot of those shows in some way get him money. There’s no point to listing them all, but it is worth noting that Wrestlemania, the singing professional wrestler album, also got him money. He has acknowledged that it was a wretched album, but he doesn’t regret it because it got him money. What a ho. I could really lick a shingle if he’s “rude.”
Hopefully, by providing Hacksaw Jim Duggan’s song-length thing here, I can deprive Mr. Cowell of a few cents in royalties.
THESE CROCS ARE NOT COOL!
DO NOT LET THEM DRINK YOUR MOUNTAIN DEW! DO NOT LET THEM PLAY WITH YOUR MIGHTY MAX ACTION FIGURES!
As would this be so even if they did more than hit their heads on traffic lights.
But they don’t.
Alright, alright. Calm down. There’s more to life than that.
Bah, I might have known.
Ha ha. Serves you right.
These people are also not cool.
I thought these things were a nuisance on Super Nintendo roms. Yikes, if you ever intend to emulate commodore 64/amiga games, find a way to do so, and additionally find it worth the trouble, these will make themselves your business right quick. There’s a musician called Skaven who I became fascinated with a few years back. Thank at you, CYB, who or wherever you are. Just listening to the mostly decent music, I would never have guessed its original target demographic was people who read erratic scrolling text for five minutes at a time. Aw ban, there were commercial games with greetz in them. Even if those were an exception, otherwise you’re just staring at a fixed image for as long. And then the actual game would load in silence and turn out to be not be that good, and what preceded it might as well have been the end in itself. To think I felt stupid in 1991 waiting 45 seconds to play Mega Man III, when there were people twice-to-thrice my age enduring untold hours of narcissistic ramblings who didn’t even get a decent interactive product out of it.
Any slight bit of research you might do on the phrase “demo scene” is unlikely to be forthcoming about what demo scene actually was: terrible. To be fair, most demos look better than that up there, but are hardly more excusable. If I didn’t think it took a small bit of competence to first code these things and then stick them into other program’s data files without breaking them, I’d be sure all those people bore severe mental defects. For games other than COOL CROC TWINS, I mean.
Well! Notice how the level of misplaced pride is inversely proportional to how good the product is, in this example, the Commodore 64 version.
Adding a skateboard doesn’t help.
No progress here, either.
There we go.
I’m so tired of card tricks. Yes, I get that they’re easy to hide and switch around because they’re really thin and their backs are all identical. I also am totally over magic ians pretending that they messed up. Is this your card? No, no, ha ha ha, of course not, because this is your card! I’ll bet… no, I won’t bet, because that reminds me too much of poker, which is even more annoying than magicians, but I certainly would not be surprised if they had an idea, but didn’t know for sure, so they contrive ways to reveal each guess in progressively showy fashions to make it seem like everything was building up to that. But building up to what? Oh, hoo-ray, you found a card. I bet you can’t even sneak into building 4 and save Dr. Petrovich with that. I am sick to tears of the Jack of Spades and the Five of Clubs. If I must keep seeing these dumb tricks, surely they can also be done with Monopoly Chance cards or Pokemon cards. Is your card the Won Second Place in a Beauty Contest? No, of course not, because it’s actually WARTORTLE! I could try to convince myself that that the popular variety are Faxanadu cards, but then where’s MATTOCK and WINGBOOTS?
Oh, look. A stupid word press page. Why? The original idea was to make things easier, but considering I’ve been fiddling with it since February and it still doesn’t do what I want it to, by now I’m just looking for an excuse to go away. Not forever, maybe not even for more than a week. I may give up on the idea altogether like I usually do.
I am not in a good state. Though I’d rather be in Connecticut than Louisiana this time of year, I referred to my mental state. Would a proper person say something like that?
What I’ve been doing here, it needs to change, because that ain’t workin’ (and yet, that’s the way you do it). And it’s been not working for a long time; I wrote that joke months ago.
Yes, so, supposedly this has an RSS feed. I don’t know how that works and I have no personal use for it, but if there’s anyone to see this for whom that’s less of a hassle than actually looking at this page again, then fine. Wonderful. Splendid.
This means, as far as I am aware, at least until I become better with css, which I likely will not, I cannot have different colors for different months anymore. So oh no! I’ll only have five years worth of crazy backgrounds!
I hope this doesn’t allow me to see how many “subscribers” I have. Even if there are some, the second the number goes down or I realize those are robots, too, I’ll lose my mind.
CSS is like that ACS stuff from Hexen and ZDoom. For some reason, it’s a lot easier for me to follow these codes when the end result involves blowing things up. And I never finished what I was making with that, either. And I additionally haven’t finished “the first beet…,” so don’t even ask about it. That was some cartoon I started last year which quickly became the singular thing any of the people I showed it to asked me about, if they asked me about anything. Worth noting is that when I tell them there’s been no progress they never ask what I’ve been doing instead. I guess they think I’m up here rolling in filth and autoeroticizing to pictures of produce every hour of all days. Well, no, that is not the case. I have to sleep sometimes.
The newer Fantastic Four movie, one of innumerable sequels and at least three action-type movies this Sumzer with an unidentified thing from space as a major plot point, is released across United Amelica today. It will be a time of encounters with surfers which affect our molecules and cause us to temporarily switch powers. (noise)
Note that iGN’s branding of a clip it did not produce neither prevented me from viewing the clip on another site nor inspired me to visit the logo’s place of origin.
On the level of science I’m not meant to question as explained quite easily by nameless dope in the preview, this is still below the robot airplane from Stealth that gets struck by lightning and turns evil. (also noise) I realize that superheroes, by their very nature, are no less plausible than the possibility that something might cause them to suddenly switch their magic skills and be otherwise unaffected. But it does bother me that to them, there is adequate logic at work for some dork to anticipate spontaneous power transfer just by caressing a microscope, explain it off to molecules, be right, and I’m not supposed to laugh until some angsty whiny guy who looks just as much like Ben Stiller turns orange and says “COME OOOOWWAN!.”
At least they don’t have to wear differently colored shirts to be told apart now.
And not that it’s relevant to why I do not want to see this (I simply do not), but I don’t understand how the X-Mens are mutants but the Four Fantastics are normal.
I don’t think that parenthetical remark stressed enough my indifference toward this movie. Yet I’m too indifferent to try much harder. I cannot bring myself to have even all that strong of a spiteful interest in it. The four are so uninteresting that they don’t even have secret identities. Everyone knows that Thing’s name is Ben and that one of the thin guys is named Reed.
Oh, and why is this the rise of the Silver Surfer? I don’t have a very high tolerance threshold for 1970s American comics, so I can’t rightly dispute the merit of the character, but it looks like the doof actually falls to earth from elsewhere. But this and this has to use words like rise because it thinks it’s so epic. Maybe it’s more epic than Epic Movie, but my allergic reaction to dairy products is more epic than Epic Movie. You know what else rises? Bread dough, a formula from which has been derived some of our most reputable frozen pizza crusts. The undoubtedly ridiculous budget would have been better directed toward a film called Fantastic Flour. Ha ha bah.
I know I complain about myspedia and youtspiegle a lot, but they’re the first place twits look to stash their brain trash and compliment each other about it. They are the fertilest soil for bad ideas. How can I possibly do something constructive with my time when these things keep finding me?
“Hammerspace,” an absurd explanation for an absurd phenomenon becomes official and terribly annoying. Try to avoid noting, also, the punchlineless comic stripzoid at the right which apparently is part of a series.
As of November, 2007, that page no longer exists, but I vow not to forget that it once did, as I consider wikipedia’s removal methods attempts to make me do.
As of August 2014, the page is BACK, with the punchlineless comic stripzoid included. Clearly the goal is to waste my time by forcing me to edit this page.
I don’t know who came up with H-Space and I don’t particularly care how many actual commercial ventures have played along with your little game by suggesting such a space. They’ll pander any which way if it makes them money. I wonder if there’s an article on what dialogue baubles are comprised of and the biological deformities which cause animation folk to be less detailed than the backgrounds they stand against. Is the allele which makes eyebrows hover above people’s heads recessive or dominant? Is there a cure for black outlines?! I accuse that the nutritional value of spinach has on more than one occasion been exaggerated!
There [still] is a considerably larger page on cartoon physics in general, which has no reason to have been made. Anything worth noticing would be self-evident upon watching an applicable cartoon. If you’ve never seen one, why would it matter to you? This article is for no one!
That sounds more like potion-space to me. As long as we’re making nonsense up and retroactively applying it to works by others unconcerned with explaining themselves to future dorkage, I charge that potions are not stored in hammer-space. They are stored in flask-space. No no no. Decanter-void. And while I’m at it, how about l’environs de sandwich? It is a concealed compartment in the sleeves of some garments containing very precisely cut bits of unchewed food which allows the same part of the same sandwich to be bitten continuously during magical looped animation.
Ah ha, wrong again. Actually, neither exist, and you’re a friggin’ moron, and should stop trying to sound smart. Pog forbid we confuse one pointless thing we imagine to satisfy our lack of imagination with another.
Anyway, what’s important is that after the Hammerspace page was sent into deletelandfill, its crater of doy was set to forward to the Magic Satchel page, even though any reasonable person can identify a myriad of one difference. I should relish in such an ironic outcome, but I really wish both would have been flushed down agonytoilet, out of my raging gaze. Following such an event Wikipedia would reveal that it was really hammerspace all along and this website entry would continue as if nothing had happened.
Keep in mind, this is supposed to be an encyclopedia and not any sort of humorous document. Whiners of less joy than myself cite just that all the time when deleting the additions of others.
And even if it was a joke I would still hate it, just because I used to get this sort of thing in my e-mail and found it tiresome. The people who write and circulate them are unerringly pitiful. A lot of these famous lists originated in the 80s and early 90s among BBS shut-ins, again of more extreme symptoms than myself, who could find nothing better to do than be nerdy at their computers all day. When the next generation of morons discovered daft surveys and questionaires through which they could further categorize and lock their own non-personalities, and at the same time advertise their pre-fab daftness to other people, those started being forwarded instead of the lists of astounding differences between men and women. And so likewise did Hammerspace float neglected in Mememoat, until whoever wrote the Wonder Twins wikiped article remembered a Usenet post asking where Zan’s bucket always comes from, and realized another article explaining this could go undeleted for years with enough goon support.
It is worth contradicting my previous sentence to point out that the first version of the “Hammerspace” page
credits it exclusively to modern manganime and is aware of no Final Fantasy prior to the one that came out in 2001, and closes with a link to another articul about an utterly indistinguishable mustache-hair web-comic which could have been written and drawn by anybody. Is there a wikipedia article explaining and listing mustache-hair webcomics?
The same wiki user also started the male pregnancy page, though apparently without reference to its own popular usage online. But I have to wonder what inspired the research. Is it possible? It must be possible, it must be possible! Oh phooey, it isn’t. I’ll put it on wikipedia anyway.
The remainder of the page on Hammerspace is a list of dubiously notable instances of itself supposedly being employed.
stop right there.
You can’t cut nothing in half! Similarly, any additional credibility gained from “blogs, fansites, etc.” amounts to as much. All this means is that people with the creativity and free-thinking abilities of a tin of sardines think it is worthy of discussion. That the page is even called hammerspace suggests a secret consensus among the unthinking. Why always hammers?
Because all we can do is copy that which came immediately before us! Beep beep! Doot doot! Dreadfully sorry old bean, but it’s peanut butter jelly time!
Even by the 1950s there was very little originality in American cartoons. But I’d rather not go into that at the moment. At least they hadn’t gotten ugly yet.
There are no rules! There just appear to be because very few of your idols aren’t hacks! *Hack* hacks *hack!* saw Jim Duggan!
In closing, on the internet, everything comes back to anime and creepy masturbation fantasies. Thank you and God save the me once The Queen has been secured.