I fixed the thing that I broke! It had disabled a crucial animated gif.
I hate hearing about when radio was king. Radio was “king” for a pretty short period overall in the history of media. It truly was not so very long before motion pictures usurped the imaginary throne. They had sound before the 1930s, but even prior to that they were big business, comparable to, if not more so, than radio.
I think internet pornography has been king for longer than radio was, if the only way we might communicate the concept of fiscal success is through a monarchial analogy, and if this analogy holds up at all, the king is a reprehensible creep who only retains status by having knights hack up civilians. Your dominance doesn’t mean beets when it is entirely dependent on there not being any competition. Radio was in charge right up until somebody else made an attempt at being in charge.
Radio repologists are the same sorts of people who never forget to mention that Popeye was more popular than Mickey Mouse for about a week at some point in the 1930s. By making a big deal of that point you imply that for every other point in their coexistence Mickey Mouse was the better and Mickey Mouse is about the blandest character on the blanet.
The early history of radio, in general, is depressing. This in part is due to the entire history of radio being depressing. I wouldn’t mind if I didn’t hear about it so much. I hate that stupid music that plays in the background, I hate the nearly indistinguishable announcer voices, I hate every program’s name ending with “show” (how did that start, anyway? No one never saw a thing). I hate the Lone Ranger. Maybe his show was well written (just as likely not), but my only experience with it are despicable characters on television referencing it. A lot of my least favorite fictional people have been huge Lone Ranger fans.
And he wasn’t even alone! I don’t need to have seen/heard his deeds to know that he had Tonto along to not get any credit through not being a white guy. Chipwich, since it’s on the radio Tonto could be a robot or a skeleton or a sentient boot but you made him a human so you may as well acknowledge that he exists.
I hate hearing how CBS had to “raid” Jack Benny, like there were only two people in the whole world capable of being entertaining when heard but not seen. Historians would have me believe the only things important to all 1930s Amelicans were Jack Benny, Seabiscuit and racism. But they failed! It’s more interesting for me to consider that back then people could have two first names, as opposed to now when people have names like Madison Carter and MacKensie Potatobucket and Vanburen McFrankenstein.
It’s very possible, that since I haven’t been able to move on yet, if I’m alive fifty years from now, I’ll still feel attached to the early days of video games, but I can tell you I won’t trust anyone to recap it for me, because I know they’re going to say Pac-Man, they’re going to say Mario and they’re going to say Crash bleeding Bandykook in the intro sentence and the whole operation is going to dance around hardly straying from those three points. No Moraff, no Electro Brain, no Triffix, none of the mistakes that I’m obsessed with. Just the mistakes I hate but that other people don’t regard as mistakes. They might mention Final Fantasy, but only the first one, because they know what little tolerance I have for that.
If I live to be seventy years old and still have people willing to speak to me, I’m not going to be recalling Tetris the way old people now recall Marylin Monrovia or James Bean. It was fun for a few hours and exploited into total reprehensility.
I found that in a file titled “objects.txt” dated 5-27-2008 that I probably meant to be a collection of unfinished website items, but then I continued starting new unfinished things and forgot the old ones. I don’t entirely recall what prompted me to complain about that and then not do anything about it for four or more years, but the thing I typed beneath here reminded me of it so now it is above that and your problem.
This is from somebody’s tumblor web-page. A string of folks I know absolutely nothing about are eagerly anticipating an upcoming film by quoting dialog from an ad for it beneath an endlessly looping captioned clip from the ad which probably links to the full ad.
I guess Zangief is considered “bad” either because he is Russian (Soviet, in fact) or because the people who made this movie just threw some money around at some licenses and aren’t inherently more qualified than anyone else who’s ever put a video game character in a feature film.
Except there was also Kingdom Hearts, another baffling disney/video game cross-over, which was an actual video game, that must have at least been mildly playable, even if I wouldn’t, because one of its primary plot components is fondly reminiscing about when Mickey Mouse was king. I have difficulty reserving more faith than I have in a Disney supervised video game for a Disney developed video game movie. I do know that I’m not looking forward to footage of the Dynamite Dux doing the Charleston in front of a white background under a huge font saying “Wreck it Ralph #1 movie in the country!” when that inevitably occurs.
The page I saw this on also had someone complaining about fedoras for being marketed at the wrong people. Certainly I have stated fedora issues, but Tumblr users are the last people who should be complaining about marketing. They are marketing incarnate. They promote, buy and forget products in time to promote buy and forget the next ones, totally for free, like no one but the most cynical radio-era spokesoafs could ever have expected people to be dumb enough to. Suddenly in less than a day I had seen stuff about this movie from five different people, all making the exact same points (“this movie will be good because it acknowledges that video games exist and I cannot contain my enthusiasm over it”), without my having given any effort to look them up. The catch to this marketing method is that the tumblites have to actually like or expect to like the product, but on an internet that I can win the entirety of by being aware of something that anyone else who grants themselves authority to award the whole internet is nostalgic for, it really isn’t that hard.
ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED? good work, I made comics about wizards and warriors before I could read, and I reckon pasting whimsical dialog next to video games sprites has been an internet institution for plenty over a decade. Why is this film special? Because it’s not on the internet. Nobody here is pausing to ponder: “this is significant because it has nothing to do with us.” It may even be tolerable as a result of that, if I succeed in forgetting the hype. I am weary of hype.
Golly I’d pay up to three easy installments of $48.95 for that! Of course I could PINCH even more PENNIES by not buying anything at all. Is this product any good? I don’t know because I don’t trust essentially anonymous mobs of strangers, compensated or otherwise.
And this idiot IS compensated. Ripping off the same tirelessly impact-font-labeled pictures as everyone else but putting ads (that SCROLL WITH THE PAGE) on them
and then its own copyright symbol on the ads and saying “derp” the whole while, thoughtlessly mocking my people. Though I mock dopes, dopes are not derps. Dopes are content and there is no struggle to life as a dope and they don’t have feelings to hurt. That is why I deliberately work to hurt them. This is like comparing apples and pineapples. Pineapples are scum.
Disclaimer: I accept no responsibility for anything but will accept your money
Old pictures, old gimmicks, old buck-passing, old buck-keeping. I have been concerned that I’m so out of touch with society that I can’t tolerate new things, but maybe the problem is that the new stuff is fundamentally the same as before.
I recall all manner of gorbo going gorby over Matrix 2, Snakes on a Plant, New Transfarmers, the 2008 Baracko Bama and/or Pon Raul presydential campaigns, the Smashing Brawl Bros and all these things. They live for hype, promotion, consumption and imitation. They were raised on it and they don’t know how to not do it. I’ve failed to be in their clubs for so long because I must not enjoy being in their clubs. I want to interact with talented people, not mere complacently resigned fans of talented people, and certainly not fans of lazy nonsense. But lazy nonsense is more likely to get reblogged and less likely to get discouraged if it doesn’t get reblogged.
I consider intelligence a talent but that statement seems even more pretentious with that word in it.
Considering that it took me about 40 minutes to find the zangief page again after I made the decision to use the little bit of text I typed about it (which has mutated considerably) I really don’t know what to think about the approaching movie he is sort of in. And that’s fine! I’m allowed to not explode with excitement every time somebody wants to sell me something. I should be glad that video games are getting some legitimacy and that the old ones I actually care about aren’t being totally ignored, despite the efforts of the xbox all-army-guy/zombie coalition. Even if it’s in an ugly, 3d, “fictional characters are REAL, BORING people just like you” overhyped contemporary above-everything “yeah, no” obnoxiocomedy which, much like toy story, will undermine its apparent fondness for “classic” toys by saturating the planet with sweatshop labor merchandise based on the exclusive intellectual property of the filmmakers. I like that Zangief is in it and Crash Bandicorf isn’t, and that Bowser’s eyes weren’t made really small and moved close together (meanwhile keeping the head the same size) so to better resemble the facial features of an immersion-breaking-by-design celebrity voice actor who uses a Scottish accent for some reason. The scene in the preview is probably the extent of their parts, but I didn’t watch the preview anyway. I don’t have time to watch it; I’m too busy complaining about it.
Nobody has tried to sell me on the original characters yet, as it happens. Only the incidental background characters. Can a movie work entirely through interest in the secondary characters? Disney definitely sold Aladdin as if it was a movie about the Genie. And this time there’s no gentleman’s agreement to violate with Dr. Robotnik over his presence in the promotional material that will lead to him being voiced by Helletic Hojo in the sequel. That is the most pointless sentence I’ve ever written. At this point I would like to gripe that it’s the newer Robotnik who wears suits made of rubber and zippers and goggles on his head despite already having dark protective lenses over his eyes at all times, but actually he has never dressed in an especially dignified manner and he’s the only character from his franchise that I can still bear to look at.
Bah I’m too angry. I’m even too angry at how angry I am. I like a lot of things! I like… (don’t say dopes, don’t say dopes, don’t say dopes) yes I sure do.
NO! I’ve been misrepresented! Google isolated a single remark from the page featuring the most conspicuous commercial property on the page whose name I didn’t make the effort to misspell, and declared that the title! It’s almost as if google just saw a picture of a preview of this website and made a judgment based on that, except it didn’t because if I was going to pay to advertise this site I’d look at the money and buy a pizza instead. Giggle changed the title because the actual page says “luckycharms.com” on it which I guess is a problem because apparently real people go to the websites of breakfast cereals, and do it by typing urls into google instead of the place they are actually supposed to type urls, and these people are worth accommodating for some reason. I didn’t even write that sentence anyhow! Kid Rock did! And the next line is “I like Andersen windows!” Why isn’t that the title? Andersen Windows are much better actors. Nobody understands me/us!
I’m going home to people who appreciate me!
All this Jerry Sanduski business strikes me as very Ancient Greek. With all the “modern day warrior” sort of nonsense people in sporting associations like to ehssociate themselves with I would be little surprised if this sort of thing were much more widely disseminated and unofficially institutionalized than anyone is acknowledging here. Any field where men have power, money, some sort of manufactured prestige and private access to children there is going to be sexual abuse. Sports, clergy, entertainment, government, they’re all alike. I wouldn’t chance it on women either, though they are less encouraged by tradition to behave disgustingly and then be proud of themselves (though very much so with regard to disgusting people more powerful than themselves).
Here come some pictures of my hideous sunburn. Not for sympathy; apart from some lingering redness and itching I am cured. You can tell because I typed this. I have a considerable list of other things I will accept sympathy for if it comes to that, however, starting with
the undrinkable “pure” cranberry juice I bought shortly after the sunburning. I think it is meant for people with urinary problems. I think that because the bottle says so. People have urinary problems because they drink so much bloody juice that they can’t stop going. I may have been confused since having swollen, blistered fingers meant that converting my clothing to urination mode became an irritating ordeal but that is not the problem the juice is meant to solve. For some reason I suspect the fat-nosed fool at the top of this entry won’t have the same issue.
Look, it even has a warning. I of course interpret that as a dare. If sunblock muck had a “WARNING: DON’T USE THIS” perhaps I would have. I should have been wary of purchasing when it cost ten dollars. I must have just thought it was really good juice. Clearly I deserve to be homeless.
I have decided to merely link to the pictures, since I’d really rather not be seeing them here for the next six months while they slowly scroll off the page if I also have to see all those dumb lizards. And with me having said that you may decide that you do not want to see them at all, and now you have the power not to, and thus I don’t even really need to have had a sunburn and can have saved myself the pain and hassle of it. However, I am now taking this opportunity to dare you to look so you really have no other option because I was disgusted at my deceitful behavior. Unfortunately I have not yet implemented a system for concealing undesirable verbal imagery so the urine-themed remarks remain.
I swear that is my only plaid shirt. I rarely wear plaid because it reminds me of bad concerts and furry conventions. We shall perhaps see in subsequent entries that I take better precaution to protect myself from being reminded of them than actually experiencing them. This shirt at least has some diagonal plaid, but I still worry that it makes me look like I’m at a rodeo. If I was at a rodeo I would wear an appropriate hat as well and clearly I have no head. Further, I am in no condition to fasten my Texas-shaped belt buckle without assistance.
In fact the burning occurred primarily because I attempted to wear a hat. Due to my proximity to people who enjoy burning themselves (normal people) but aren’t genetically predisposed to being burnt excessively through being pigmentally challenged, I decided I should make an effort to walk outside during a period when someone else might. Oddly enough I put anti-burn goop on my feet. My aversion to it caused me to avoid placing the stuff on my hands and I imagined I would keep them concealed within my pockets for the duration of the journey. It seems that they are destined to be gooped up either way.
After one day of bandaging and gooping. Note that due to the residue it looks worse than before. That is why I showed it. The white goop has silver as a component and stains things black. Or maybe that’s just a ruse so you won’t know I’m transforming into a dinosaur. And if I am I promise you it isn’t one that is blue and smiles a lot.
On the other hand, here is how one looks after having been cleaned off. judging by the time-stamps on the pictures this took 28 minutes. That’s sadly not a whole lot longer than I generally require to bathe. Or that’s the impression I try to give so nobody will guess that I am digging an escape tunnel from the bathroom.
Here they are, together again. The rodeo appears to be over. Why did I only bring shirts that would be a total nuisance to equip and remove if my hands broke?
and just as I returned, I had to prepare to go someplace else, which I have now returned from. thankfully on that occasion the scarring was only internal and thus I was not physically inhibited from typing this.
We can only go up from here.
I went somewhere. Somewhere other than the previous occasion. I also came back.
I’m tired of “badass” works of media. That’s how hardcore I am.
During the last time I slept, I experienced a dream in which there were terrorism attacks or major riots or plain old world-ending going on outside and the first thing I did was try to prove to myself that it was a dream, but I failed, and so it was real. However, I never attempt to do that outside of dreams and so it must have been. I have no doubt of my consciousness while in its presence.
Welcome to Target.
An actual scene from inside my refrigerator. This is precisely what I want to find waiting for me when I go away for a week. In case you’re wondering, I was in hiding…
AH NAW! Sausage found me.
AHHHHHHHHHHHH NAWWWWWWWWWW! Mexican sodee pop! Get me out of here! No actually build a wall and send THEM home.
Why I don’t reckon I’d have any respect for them Mexies if they didn’t send THIS back to US with a stern reprimand if the situation arose.
Don’t stop me if you can see where this is going. It goes there slow enough that your effort would make little difference.
and there also goes the last internet comic with no scenes that take place in a bar. we had a decent length run, I’d say, if I’d held off a bit longer.
There are two things you can expect in a good webcomic: it will become painfully obvious what the artist’s favorite paraphalia is and the main characters will go to a bar within a few pages. Ah I’m kidding, of course. There are no good webcomics.
I thought it might it might be easier and more potentially amusing to base the setting off an actual place I’ve been to, but the one I wanted to use doesn’t have a layout that works with my staging and the one I used instead is rather dull and doesn’t match the locale I’ve established. I think I might have said that last time.
Also, Edward Sorel called. He wants his sketchy, noncommittal ink lines back. And I actually draw with pencil first. By the way why don’t you get a cellular telephone already? I’m tired of taking messages for you.
I think I could handle being a slow inker or a bad inker but being both is becoming harder to accept. Is the huge pint bottle of ink that i bought and have not yet opened reason enough to keep using real pens? If I had a job doing this I would be fired for what this page looked like before I spent a week putting color over and redrawing it with a mouse. Although if I had a job doing this I would have been fired years ago for needing a two weeks of uninterrupted time to finish one page and usually being surrounded by interruptions. I don’t even know what to revise to [further] fix this, much less have the ability. However, this either goes up as it is now or two weeks from now when I can work on it again to make subtle changes that you probably won’t notice.
Oh OH excuse me, am I talking too much for you? Guess what elpse, nobody is intimidated by you! Even with that impressive scar along your midsection. Yes, and I know you also said “oh OH” on the page. I’m very impressed that you almost finished a game of tic tac toe. By the way I’m actually not impressed!