I was working on an update for Friday, November 9, but then I spilled soup.
I look forward to being kept from making regular, satisfactory updates by stuff that matters.
Willie Wafer is a scumbag.
Willie Wafer is incontinent.
Willie Wafer does not respond well to criticism.
You will never believe what happened to me this week-end! And so I shall not make the effort to inform you of it.
Those are people alright. Yes indeed this appears to be a random sampling of [white male] human beings [of the same approximate age]. I have no idea who these people are but they’re hilarious. they all have the same dumb facial expression. this is like a mad magazine cover.
Apparently I can collect all five. It looks like the upper four collected the middle one, and the giant red pin on the blue one’s shirt insists there are 170 more where these came from. I wonder if they staged a jail break at the sitcom precocious child factory. I’m not even pretending I don’t know who they are to show my desired disconnect from this sort of thing; I legitimately have no trace guess at their identities.
This IS the same way I learned about Justin Beeper, but this isn’t positioned in such a way that I know what this gang is collectively called, and that makes it more amusing. I don’t necessarily need to look forward to somebody I sort of know ragefully decrying the utterly predictable success of this target-marketed executive concoction (even though that’s been happening for over forty years) and possibly find myself sympathizing until the person promotes instead something with just as much legitimacy and boring typicality but directed at their own demographic.
I’m guessing the second from the right is the leader, based on the expanded cranial space to allow for a miniature alien control center, and this is after the photoshop editing. These kids are utterly unremarkable and no doubt they were designed that way. They probably grow up into
someone like that and appear on different magazines. Who IS this guy? Precisely! Is it Jason Sudeikis? Is it someone from the Big Bag Theory? Is it the model portraying a doctor who appears in mass emails for semilegal phallus pills? I don’t know, but he sure is THERE. I already forgot what the magazine was called but I remember that there was a picture of a slim, unblemished human who passed for a doctor on the cover.
This person has credibility through holding the box. I know it’s not just a stock model photograph they took off the internet; it’s a stock model photograph they took off the internet and artificially inserted this box into.
i believe it because theres a picture of someone wearing a lab coat there. This could be a veterinarian, or a robot inventor, or just somebody wearing a costume, but the costume is what counts. The person isn’t holding a box, but it is a lady. And the text printed above her approves of viagra. That means that SHE wants to DO SEX with MEN WHO USE VIAGRA.
Like them. These guys are cool.
Even more than them, if it’s possible.
They meet up once a week to redo elvis songs to be about how their penetration apparatuses don’t work.
Viagra isn’t just for old white guys, either! Eh unless this gleeful fellow is only there to gloat.
E D is a colorblind affliction. Pfizer makes the pills blue just in case you aren’t because that’s the friendly kind of [entity] Phizer is.
And then once the pills kick in I guess the gang stops playing together and does something else.
Whatever it is, it involves shooting white stuff in all directions and out the windows.
This ad came out five years ago (judging by the television set and camera I was using) but it’s still relevant today. At least as much as elvis is.
Their motto is Viva Viagra. Long life to the artificial sex organ stimulating device. Not long life to themselves; they wouldn’t need viagra if they weren’t already having long lives, right? Although then Viagra wouldn’t be in business at all. The young, recreational users Viagra is legally prohibited from admitting it welcomes the business of would never see its ads in GOLF MAGAZINE, after ehhh.
I’m not buying Golf Magazine. I’m not buying golf magazine to SEE an AD. I’m not even buying golf magazine to see golf junk. I’m not buying Golf magazine to see an ad for VIAGRA, much less on the recommendation of another ad, one for the same product, at that. I KNOW about viagra! I wish I knew less! If there’s anything that you absolutely NEED to tell me you should do it now while you have my attention! I don’t even like golf. You know who likes golf? Decepticons.
Therefore I allege that decepticons are the primary purchasers of Viagra.
Everything makes sense, now that nothing makes sense.
In addition to being photographed, though, they have proven their ability to smile and be rich, a skill many robots currently lack. Alas, that means they probably don’t grow up at all. If they do, though, then they are truly exceptional robots. I see good things in their futures.
Look at this guy, if you can stand it. Now that I think of it, those could be Mitt Romney’s children up there. I heard he had a bunch. If these aren’t his, perhaps he’s looking for more. This picture isn’t Mitt Romney, of couse. It’s… who is it?
More importantly, who searched for “bimswel bow tie” 12 times in one month?
Who wants to see THAT?
What?! Why was this picture made? Who wants to see THAT?!
Some questions are best left unasked.
While staying with parents and assorted relations amidst the summer I discovered that The Weather Channel, first of all, still exists, but also it had, at some point, fired its original music department and is now licensing crummy Late Night With Conan O’Barbarossa musical guests from the late 1990s.
is the idea supposed to be that the theoretical fans of those songs now have miserable, habitual weather-channel watching lives, but would watch something else if they didn’t recognize the songs?
would the channel have been doing this all along if it had the money? was I fortunate to evade Bay City Rollers excerpts coming at me every morning while I gave myself indigestion from a pop tart, a bad dessert for breakfast, 30 minutes before I went outside to wait for the bus because it would drive past my house at full speed without even slowing down if the driver didn’t see me from the far end of the street, so I could arrive early to wait in the perpetually cold, featureless Catholic school parking lot because we weren’t actually allowed inside for another 20 minutes after the buses left us there and nobody saw any way or reason to make this system more efficient? Do I need a therapist?
However, I’ve never one time heard anybody say “you know what song I like? that really miserable one with the guy whining about all the peebul or that goofy one with the guy singing like Bosko.”
Somebody at The Label told the bands “these are singles. These are the songs that will be played on radios. Try and make your other songs worse than these.” That way, people only buy the singles instead of the full album that’s 1 cd in 1 box that’s cheaper than buying 4 different cds in 4 boxes. There was less concern for good non-single songs if the singles themselves were also bad. You might ask “but doesn’t the lack of distinction make the singles seem less more appealing than the non-singles, which are now relatively less less appealling, and so more less deserving of non-purchase?” But hopefully you won’t. That’s just confusing. But anyway this then served the function of thoroughly demoralizing anyone who heard them, so that if they also became musicians their songs would be just as pathetic and unpleasant, and if they got uppity it would be also be simple to replace them with another mopey band that sounded exactly the same. I will go into more detail on this on a previous occasion.
Why watch the weather channel on vacation? It reminds me of that time I wrote about being reminded of having to get up at 6am for catholic school, especially if there is cloudy lighting outside that approximates dawn circumstances. I think the same lady is still the on-air personality, too. This picture is not actually from August… of 2012. I didn’t think to take any pictures of the television. Yes I neglected my responsibility. It’s from August 2010. The only time I encounter the weather channel is when I stay with my parents. Maybe they secretly invented it. They aren’t millionaires because they spent all their money licensing terrible songs and investing in whatever THIS is. The house they rented had some system for “interactive” content on certain channels. One of them was this weather channel. Even for people who will have it on all day under proper circumstances this is too much weather channel. Yes, you should have an idea what the precipitation and temperature are expected to be like when you’re planning a prolonged outing. However, this information is irrelevant if your plan ultimately ends up being to continue watching The Weather Channel. This extra information on screen only makes your continuing to leave it on make less sense. You don’t need to wait for the extended forecast or the radar view; now they are visible at all times. The only gripe you can now make is that the division of the screen space leaves the elements too small to be read. Oh dilemma! At least you can still hear those totally kickin’ sweet nonthreatening light FM hits! Keep ’em comin’!
ya da ta, hee dee tee, fu fa foy, it’s my greatest mistayeeake. WRETCHED.
Bland, unremarkable verses only to lead up to that? How does that nonsense make money and then become “classic?” That wasn’t on the weather channel, but rather one of the radio stations the driver temporarily listened to during the return. I can remember a time when I was tolerantly indifferent toward it, but now I find it upsetting. I’m imposing it on you because I think you’re making fun of me for not being able to drive.
Hard to SAY what it is ah SEE in yoUuUuU meowww meowww moaning fat guy wearing a fedoraAaaA and THAT I always hated, even before I knew fedoras were bad news. I just thought they meant you were Clark Kent (who I only recently decided was a scumbag for unrelated reasons) or on Carmen Sandiego’s trail.
It’s important to be discrete and blend in when you’re tracking a master criminal.
Incidentorally, we should not have been asking “Where in Time is Carmen Sandiego?” but -when.- Of COURSE we haven’t caught her.