If all goes according to plan, this will be my final note of the year. If all goes according to plan. I’ll believe there is a new year when I see it. It still has five-and-a-half hours to change its mind before it reaches the standard eastern time zone, and if it did decide to turn around, I could not find fault with it. I would do the same thing if put in such a position.
It’s hardly a “holiday tradition,” only going back to 2005, but I do like to watch the 1946 film It’s a Wonderful Life roundabout the time when Christmas occurs. I did so recently, and I just thought I’d share with you a few of my favorite scenes and persons.
George Bailey, what a guy. He just wants to help people. You want the moon? He’ll give it to you. But I must inform you that the moon is deceptively large and it’s unlikely you could find any place big enough to store it.
George put his own personal ambitions indefinitely on hold to save the family business, the Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Building and Loan, and all the Bedford Falls citizens who depend upon it. Also present are George’s coworkers, loanmeister Sonny Chips and gardener Chief Tinko.
Ever selfless, he gave his own college money to his brother, Harold Barnabas Bailey, who is here just returning from several years at Meeplethorpe University, with a surprise companion: his new wife Bobo Rabadule.
Mary Escape Hatch irons the new wallpaper to impress George, the love of her life, and who can blame her?
Seemingly invetibly the two do become married, grow several children and enjoy many a Christastic Christmas together.
It’s hard enough watching a sincere yet not terribly hokey movie with modern, obnoxious ads in wherever they want to be, but do they have to be on during the movie itself? In color? Ironically, or perhaps not, that first picture occurs at a part of the movie which has no motion in it. Is that why? NBC doesn’t want me to think my set’s bust? On the blink? This is probably the oldest movie that gets shown on broadcast television. I think it could be treated better than a first run episode of Frank TV that didn’t have much going for it anyway.
Is that what you want? To be compared to something on TBS? The network whose name I cannot speak without giggling?
And this? Rainbow NBC logo? Wearing a hat? Tacky tacky tacky.
There’s a reason I don’t watch movies on the t v, and this isn’t even it. I don’t like the commercial breaks and especially that whole edited for time and content business. However, since this was made in 1946 and was granted a very generous, I thought, three hour timeslot, I didn’t expect too much to be missing. No, NBC would have to find some other way to make me hate it. Do these two events share the same audience? If I was such a big fan of that biggest loser that I forgot I wrote a web page two years ago about how much I hate it, how could I miss this bit of promotion the first six times it happened? If my eyes are that bad I wouldn’t watch a low contrast monochrome movie on a standard sized television set. And if I did I wouldn’t appreciate bright clashing neon Fruit by the Foot rolling across the screen all the time.
Ehhh, if I was in such a state that I spent my federal holidays watching the opening rounds of elimination shows 97% of whose conflicts, dilemmas, whineries and dumbfoundingly complicated gimmicks regarding simple acts will be irrelevant even within the show’s own irrelevant context in less than a month, I’d jump off a bridge myself. “What do you MEAN the significant lead I built up last week doesn’t carry over into this one?! What do you MEAN you’re merging the teams?! What do you MEAN only one of us can win?!” I’m going to the bathroom, now. When I come back this post had better be finished.
It has been suggested to me that the creature at the right is a dragon. I think that is simply not possible, as it has also been suggested to me, although not by the same people, that dragons are great, or at least kind of good at a few things*, which this personoid is not. You might as well call an aphid a cockaroach or a nanosella fungi a deinacrida heteracantha. Why would you do that?
*Obviously, this does not extend to appearing in feature films. Dragon movies are always bad news. Likely because the only people who would make dragon movies are themselves bad news. Probably people like this dumb lizard here.
You there, you’re supposed to be the ultimate all powerful beast and you just stand there and take that? Pathetic! You can’t even protest this occurrence, because your moping mouth is the thing getting bomped. How dare you shame my page with your presence twice over!
Obviously, this is not a “finished” picture. The finished one should have a fish in it somewhere. I have been too busy not finishing other things to tend to this.
Somehow every night this week I have not been able to “wake up” for an extra two hours beyond what is considered the usual. Productivity is challenged, but I still hope to get the next installment of stupid comics done before the year ends. Also, CLUMPD RUMF WUB DOP DOP DOP DOP DOP D’DOP D’DOP D’DOP D’DOP…
I have just spilled water on my “desk” after viewing a particularly rambunctious choke-slam on a television program which shall remain unnamed. This could set things back a bit.
Oh doe, now the oven’s on fire!
Gaaak! My home has been burgledlarized!
Gideon Yago! Now someone’s picked up rocks off the ground, stuffed them into little bags and tried to sell them to me!
By the wheels on the bus! Someone gave Frank Caliendo his own TV show! Whatever shall I do! Besides “watch it,” I mean.
Jaypeg jaypeg. It would seem that people at document printing places are instructed to use that as generic terminology for all image files, because both times I had junk printed at Staples, persons took my flash drive behind the counter
and had their way with it, loaded it into a computer I could not see and asked me if I wanted “these jaypegs” printed. Which I found worrisome, because my pictures were png. Ping. Does that mean there are some other pictures on there which I forgot about, possibly of an embarrassing nature (egg: anything on this website)? How can I direct that person to the right pictures without going back there myself? I can’t just say “yes” and assume the person is inaccurately describing my pings and risk having an enormous 11-and-a-half-by-eight-inch picture of Dennis Swanberg come at me. Not so much that he even scares me little on a screen, but then I have to explain both that it’s not the right picture and secondly why it was there, but I also have to do this in such a way as to not present an opinion just in case I’m talking to a fan or a shaming-me-ly openminded person and oh the chaos. And when I went to CVS, where the customers have to do this themselves, the machine wouldn’t even acknowledge that there were images on the drive because they weren’t jaypegs. Somehow it picked up the “Sandisk” logo, however. Yeah, I came here to print that. Imbeciles!
At Wal-mart, ever the haven of cowards, the big yellow Burger King playground-inspired monstrosity insisted I had yet to insert anything. Only after making me wait while it whimpered for five minutes, that is. Even though I most certainly did insert something and what’s more the device itself acknowledged it had been plugged in by putting its green light on.
Oh, and by the way, that’s NOT “ok!” It is unacceptable!
What we were attempting to print were these frightful things:
Yes, that picture only existed so somebody could make stupid “christmas cards” with it.
As I neither buy cards nor harbor pleasant/functional memories of snow mischief, in addition to not desiring to associate characters whose backgrounds I keep intentionally vague with any pseudo religious ceremonies I have no reason to assume they’d even know about let alone go along with, there was difficulty in coming up with an acceptable image. “Your characters building a snowman” was one suggestion, and this was the first way I could think of that such a thing could be allowed to happen. That one actually beat out others. (And that’s exactly the way I presented them). As ought to be expected, I didn’t figure out what about the green animal (“elpse”)’s head bothered me so much until I saw twenty of them in front of me. I made it shiny in the wrong place, so elpse appears to have a deformed, almost jowl-like, wayward cheekal region, when it in fact should not have one at all.
People did buy these, but I assumed they felt solly for me. I acquired some dollars out of it, so in theory I could buy someone something, but I still don’t have a credit card so it probably won’t be you, across the internet.
On the whole, the card affair (plus another thing we’ll discuss later) was an apparent improvement over Jope and some Dopes, which was, at least as far as my contributions were concerned, a total disaster and far less discreet.
All the same, if you see these people, tell them I miss them.
I’m a selfish, ungrateful wretch who never does anything for anybody, but as long as you don’t know that, “the holiday season” is a great excuse to slack off on page updating.
However, I did see the “Hairspray” movie, actually in a theatre, back in July. For some reason it included a preview for the Underdog movie, which I had complained about extensively several days prior. I immediately typed a sternly worded complaint yes, right there, in the theater, on my pocket typewriter about it again but couldn’t stand redundancy and so here it is now.
See? I included the date. That proves it.
In Hairspray, I appreciated the absence of actual songs from the 1960s. Nothing ruins my day like Paul Revere and The Kingsmen and the whoever did that dreadful yak song. All in all in, considering how much I hated the old Hairspray when we watched it at my uncle’s house like three times, this was shockingly bearable. Re: John Travolta: I realize the importance of having a man fill a woman role that was originally done by a man, but “they” ought to have found someone who could sing properly as a woman. Obviously I’m not really here to whine about this.
I’d like to see a remake of Brigadoon with more of the stage version’s songs in it and a proper ending. I don’t know if the omitted songs were any good, just that the movie I saw seemed like it could have used some more songs, most definitely at the end. I also think Van Johnson should have danced more than once, but that’d be unlikely in a remake since he’s 90 years old.
The latest Underdog movie preview made the exact same clips look worse than ever. I’m addressing this subject again because the last time I was so mad that I forgot to make sense. The Underdog people don’t have an excuse for not making sense because they’re clearly all very proud of themselves.
What is it about dogs that brings out the schlockiest scripts, scummiest screenplays and corniest concepts in people?
And why would Jason Lee, who at one point looked as if he could have had a semi-respectable comedy film career, accept such a job if he knew the sort of sub-Growing Pains material he’d be working with? I know it’s a dog-eat-dog business, and one can’t assume one will ever be offered so much money again, but in this movie it would be a dog-eat-cat business. That’s the kind of material we’re dealing with.
There’s something about computer graphics that makes something awful twice as awful. So combining that with the dog problem is of course, not so much a recipe, but definitely a Hungry Man XXL microwave instructions for failure. You need to use the convection oven! Alas, few people see the logic of eating something out of a little cardboard box if they have thirty minutes to spare. I’m sure in my younger days I could have parlayed that remark into another anti-underdog simile, but I’ll leave it as it is for now.
The same day as that, I saw a television spot with the second newest* old standby of moron movie marketing, scripted fake out-takes. Oops! The trained dog we dub words over later messed up his line! Even though we recorded all his lines months ago and use computer tricks to make the dog’s mouth appear to move! Where’s my 1950s clickboard? Oh, it’s in this truth.com ad.
Who in the creative club speaks up and says
I could understand if this was a plot to sell off unsold junk manufactured in the 1970s or lousy dvds -I wouldn’t like it, but I’d understand it- but Disney has no claim to that. Increased awareness of the old product is not a goal. What is the goal? Could someone tell me what the goal is? Is it to make me so nutso that I strangle someone and get sent to gaol? Well, no one spells it that way anymore. Get with the program. Take a chill pill. Like, talk to the hand. You go, girl! D-d-d-d-don’t go there!
*I believe the process through which the words comprising dipshank critic blurbs appear on signs or are manipulated by characters in actual movie footage came just a bit later. I don’t know why anyone would want me to think the actual scenes look like that, but I don’t know why they do anything. Thankfully, Underdog hasn’t gotten much praise. It would have told me if it had. International markets may not be so fortunate as I, however.
Also, Daddy Day Camp and another Veggie Tales movie which I hope is only the second. Did I come to see Hairspray or retardo spray? Are these really targeting the same audience? These make the Stardust and Charles Bartlett previews look watchable. But I know they aren’t, and I won’t.
I will, however, advise Anthony Michael Hall to sue for dork infringement. I assumed it failed quietly and went away, but supposedly this movie’s release was merely delayed until February, so in all probability I’ll have to deal with these awful ads again. Beh. I can’t even manage a bah. I’m too weak.
Much like Are we Done Yet (which you may well be asking by now, and no, we’re not), the sequel to Are We There Yet, Daddy Day Camp’s demographicites are so witless they can’t even be trusted to count up to two. Or maybe it’s the screenwright who can’t. It’s hard to tell. This movie features mullet-centric jokes. I’ll grant that mullets are kind of dumb, but they’re not nearly as hilarious as the billions of jokes about them which have accumulated on the internet in ten years seem to think. Mullet jokes are the absolute hackiest rapiest ugh yon abe nab it short-circuited my brain. Maybe now I can write the next sequel!
A Veggietales movie. But what the help are Veggietales? Aside from a few rare spots for their other movie, I’ve never seen them anywhere. They’re a product of the modern Disney commercialism that keeps their absolute worst output invisible to anyone who might potentially warn the intended victims how stupid the things are. But they aren’t made by Disney. I don’t know who they’re made by. All I know is that I hate that person. The rumored heavy bible content isn’t even a factor. That’s how terrible veggietales are. What are they for? They’re not even “cute.” Their noses are too big and their eyes are too close together. I doubt, if they were real, anybody would want to eat them, either.
And this, it claims to be something like “the greatest vegetable movie of all time.” Ha ha, right? Except Attack of the Killer Tomatos was a tremendous success (I think) that plenty more people know about. Everything in this preview made me mad.
The subtitle is The Pirates Who Don’t do Anything, and already we know we’re in for a good time. Of course they don’t do anything; actual pirates rob, kidnap, rape and murder. They’re just bad news in general. Totally inappropriate for most children films. Besides, they need arms for all those things. Not that there isn’t rape and murder in The Bible, and we’d never selectively ignore, edit and otherwise remake The Bible and continue calling it “The Bible” to meet our particular indoctrination/marketing scheme, would we? That would be distorting God’s Word and
apparently there’s nothing wrong with that.
Or there are things wrong with it, but not the ones I suspected.
Also, they tend to latch onto unusual phrases or specific visual bits more than any intellectual matter behind the content. My imagination was captured- held hostage even, by the “Disney Classics” logo on a particular copy of Disney Robin Hood that my mother used to continually rent for me. There was another copy with a different Disney Classics logo that I didn’t like at all. I possibly demanded the tape be exchanged for the other. I was also fascinated by the FBI warning which occurred first.
I must not have been alone, because about 50 people downloaded the sequence from “retrojunk.com” and reuploaded it to… some other site and got congratulated for it as if they’d accomplished something. There’s even a big enough audience that it’s worth adding extra, irrelevant, garbage website logos to. I hate many people. Do you have any idea what an accomplishment it is to have me staring directly at a Disney notice of intellectual property, after mentioning Underdog, at that, and be complaining about something else? Remind me to explain that sometime.
Most importantly, that fascination of mine did not transition into a fascination with a more realistic, less abridged Robin Hood. My mother, bless her Dodge Aries, bought me a big purple Robin Hood book with pictures and stories and everything, but I was disappointed that the people depicted weren’t stupid cartoon animals. Let’s hope Disney never makes a bible movie. Though I admit Disney’s Bible has a wonderful blasphemous sound to it.
We wouldn’t want to work toward lengthening those attention spans, would we. No no no, it’s much easier and more lucrative to pander to every stage of spoiled bibly brattitude.
This here is actually an abridged version of an abridged version. I’ll never understand why people think small children need totally different things than slightly less small children. We give them special dumbed down bibles, stupided up cartoons, sapped around video games, even dumbed down food, eeeven though its all dumped down in the end regardless. And the original stuff isn’t all that smart. I don’t think I ever ordered a “happy meal,” but it’s not like normal chicken mcnuggets come with fois gras and vodka. When I was six years old I played grubbish old regular mildly violent Rygar, not Lil’ Rygar presents: L’il Rygar and Gruffy Adventures: My First Day of School: the Search for Rygella’s lost Bike Helmet. Because they didn’t make trash like that in 1989. It would have been Rygar and Son, but Rygar wasn’t a cartoon and so was exempt. But I was just trying to make a point. You don’t need to analyze everything I put here. Geesh. Chill out, man. Mellow out, dude.
Please don’t tell me that here, in this darkened cinemaplexus corridor, five months ago, is a poster hyping an Alvin and the Chipmunks production coming to theatres. Don’t tell me, I already know what it is. I was there and took a picture of it.
“They’re back & bigger than ever Christmas.” This must be a sequel to
I thought that looked pretty bad, too.
When I liked Underdog I hated the Chipmunks. I resented that they were the chipmunks even though Chip and
Munk Dale were older and better. This was before they were the Rescue Rangers, back when they didn’t speak proper English and did hit each other a lot. Ah, the good old days before my petty biases. Yes, so, anything I hated before I became petty must have been hated for a reason. My only specific memory of The Chipmunks is that in one episode Alvin had a harmonica, was really obsessed with it, saying “my harrmonica!” a whole bunch of times, and I hate harmonicas too. It’s like a kazoo with undue respect.
There was also “The Alvin Show,” which “The Chipmunks” itself was a soulless trendy remake of, but The Alvin Show was still pretty bad, probably. If this movie wasn’t set to be released today (“Christmas” evidently meaning “some point in December”) I’d surely force myself to find out more about it. I’m glad I’m not going to. The 1960s was the worst decade for animation since the next one.
What’s really scary is that there are countless successful to moderately popular cartoons from the birth of cinema onward totally inapplicable to realistic environments, modern themes and assinine wisecrack culture that have never had live-space feature films made in the fogged-up-mirror image of, and we now know that it doesn’t matter who, if anyone, remembers them nor who, if anyone, initially watched them. The public outcries condemning the unanimous mediocrity of all previous such movies also does not matter. Betty Boop, Yogi Bear, The Mighty Heroes, Speed Buggy, Around the World in 80 Dreams, Stop the Smoggies, The Three Robonic Stooges… all of these are candidates to have fabulously funded, massively marketed, twit targeted and totally travestal movies made from them. When those are done, oh ho, there’s still The Shirt Tales, Moby Dick and Mighty Mightor, The Blue Racer, Rainbow Brite and the Shoprite Can Cans (including beets) to be raped beyond recognition. It will be unclear which were horrible to begin with. (hint: I only mentioned ones that were horrible to begin with)
Some of them will have sequels. All will have sequels initially planned. I hope they’ll have the decency to wait for that murder* I mentioned before making the Ren and Stimpy movie. Even if it’s totally true to the original it will be nauseating. More likely, though, it will be worse.
*five months ago, this was originally part of a considerably longer second tangent about me hating the Underdog movie in which I must have made some comment about me being murdered. I’m glad I survived.
Also, these are the only clips I’ve found from the English version of this program, posted by someone who only posts short excerpt clips of people transforming into animals, occasionally animals back into people, and tags them all TF because apparently this is popular enough viewing material that it needs a special abbreviation. So let me re-iterate: the only reason fat hobo Carlos is on the internet is because Stonebeet Shadowbuffalo’s friends get off on seeing this man become a bull. I don’t know that factually, but it’s been my experience that if something on the internet doesn’t make sense then someone’s probably rubbing out to it. Am I unjustified in being creeped up by that?
I don’t even know what aspect of this does the job; I assumed it had something to do with people’s clothing falling off the misshapen forms and or the tendency for it to even disappear altogether, but Carlos, to his credit, keeps his big red Hawaiian suspenderpants on through it all.
Isn’t it embarrassing enough going to Wal Mart to buy beans? I imagine a society in which beans may not legally be sold to children, and the only way to purchase them at most stores is to tell an attendant to get them for you. “Pardon me, my good cashiersman, but I require Beanee Weenee posthaste. And how! Do not tarry in rendering the product unto me! I have seen you tarry on past occasions and today that simply will not do.”
Wouldn’t it make more sense for a fish to wear a helmet over its ah snout than the top of its head, if a fish were to wear a helmet at all? In the event of a loss of control fish don’t really fall, they just keep going forward. Stupid fish. This fish, by the name of “Finn,” has also committed other questionable acts.
I can’t even work my way far down this image enough to wonder how the fish is operating that tiny bicycle or what the wheels are turning against to generate propulsion.
In the cold section at a Walgreens, or a CVS, or some other such place where a reasonable person should not be buying groceries:
Why bother freezing it? That stuff is 100% preservative. It makes packaged faddulous diet nonsense look palatable by comparison.
My problem with lunchables isn’t that they’re “lazy;” they aren’t any less so than Pop Tarts and bagels and people act satisfied with that junk all the time. Which actually is my problem, just not today. My current problems with lunchables are that they have tiny portions and must surely be really gross. I brought lunches to schools from my home every day applicable because I hated the small, gross things the school had and also the very idea that I might pay money for them. Hours in advance (Some people paid for whole weeks at once, which to me seemed and seems outright foolish even if you usually like that sort of thing). As long as a monetary transaction was taking place, I must have reasoned, I should get a pizza. A real pizza, I mean. Why call that rubbish “pizza” when it so obviously isn’t and dumb kids are buying your bad lunches anyway? Have some dignity. No, not the curious orange lump that comes with the ‘B’ lunch.
There has been much popular lore regarding the criminally awful food like things presented in schools, yet people still eat them. To do so is a skill I have always lacked. I’m probably luckier than I realize.
But lunchables! If my mother, a person fairly well acquainted with me and who wasn’t preparing mealoids for 500 other brats
let me get stuck with the same sort of thing as the cafetorium produced except colder (or sausage) I’d… I’d… just not eat it. And then some yak at the school would force one of its lunches on me, and then I wouldn’t eat that, like I said I wouldn’t, and then someone would call my house later saying we owed them two dollars, and I would be shamed for life. That would be dreadful.
Do people really use these things in this way? Do people really bow honorably before this machine to get hot air on their heads? I become too self conscious and paranoid in public restrooms to dare do such a thing. Even if I could think of a logical context in which it would occur to me to try this I wouldn’t do it. But why would you? Did you just wash your hair in the sink? I admit I’ve been forced to use automatic sinks fussy enough that the only way to get a useful amount of water would be to place a head sized object before their sensors, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to.
That is, I presume the lower glyph is meant to represent a person’s head, disembodied or not, and I presume the finger-print/stove-top burner design is meant to represent the disembodied head’s hair. Another question would surely be who is short enough to be able to get their heads into this position. The drying apparatuses tend to float maybe about three feet off the ground. You’d either have to be a small child, who I’d recommend get out of this room as fast as possible regardless of how wet your hair is…though now that I think of it you wouldn’t be tall enough to reach the sink, meaning your hair would only likely be wet if someone had dropped you in the toilet, in which event, again, I’m telling you to get out of there as fast as possible and tell the police. So either you’re really short or you truly have decapitated someone, someone with wet hair, that you want dry, which at last explains why the head pictured is not attached to anything.