the only website visible from space
Look at your address bar, fool
A wholly needless, I expect, link back to the main page
|Friday, November 05, 2004|
November 2, 2004, 6pm, eastern standard time, and there's nothing to say. Much will be said, but none of it worth listening to.
When the appropriate time came, I reactivated my picture box in the direction of nbc to see if our Conan would be showing up. No. Is it a trivial and ignorant lifestyle which ignores an important event that only happens once in four years to seek out silly ones that happen every week? If yes, does contentless, 24 hour speculation over a thing whose result I'll have no way of not eventually knowing constitute such quad-yearly importantness? I think, really, that Decision 2004 live is more silly than most things.
Ehhh, so Conan was not present, but just because the screen was on and showing things, I could not help but find out what they were. Perhaps I was just in time to see the ending, or at the very least some obtuse, awkward laughter. Maybe. But when I heard "John Kerry has to make a stand in Ohio," I knew it was time to turn that off. Like there's an active battle going on, and each candidate is actively (hence my calling the battle active) building, dispatching, and repairing damaged voters all through the night. Sadly, this is not the case. If there was a battle, it already happened, and both sides only had one bullet. The real question, is who had a bigger bullet? Unfortunately, the candidates both fired their bullets at the same time from opposite American Gladiator joust platforms above a river of cotton candy and the size of the bullets cannot be measured until the bodies are exhumed. "The time is now 12:24am, and both candidates are still in the cotton candy. Maybe Bush's bullet was bigger, but maybe it wasn't. Let's go to the map, where nothing else has changed. Here with me now are several irrelevant morons who combined hold all two of the possible guesses regarding eventual outcome." Nnnih.
On Wednesday, with Ohio still as tctc (WHAT COULD THOSE LETTERS POSSIBLY STAND FOR?!) as it was the night before that one, and myself neither having nor needing instant access to the latest count totals, I didn't know it was really over until he stepped forward and said it was, admitting defeat after many months of undauntable campaigning. That's why, on November third, 11 pm eastern standard time, when Jon Stewart conceded the election, I almost felt sad. Not even sad in a "gosh, that's pathetic," kind of way, but actual levels of concern could have been measured had you been watching me watch The Daily Show that evening. A feeling of "what was it all for?" was in the air, and those present and also not present could smell it. The efforts of not just our greatest fake journalist, but also our greatest vandals had been in vain.
. . . . . .
I suppose the foreshadowing isn't like that at all. However, I can't think at this time of anything that is, and I don't know when I'll get another opportunity to point out that particular objection, so I'll leave it in, like you've possibly come to expect I will.
With all that done and finished, I'll just be glad when all these politic lords get back to work and stop approving messages.
I hear that the person who showed me how to make those nine years ago is in jail now.
I don't know if he really ever was in, but now he is out.
For a few years one million has been the big dollar payoff to whoever can prove themselves the most adept at various things with minimal entertainment value. Who Wants to be a Millionaire, which is not a game and wouldn't be a show either without the lighting and music effects, actually received awards for being the best game show just because hypothetically someone might possibly win that much money on it. Does the size of the prize make any of these programs better? If there's so much extra money allocated exlusively for payments to people who can win weird contests, why not instead give the same lesser amount to more people? If i had one hundredth of that i could afford to see a dentist a few times and maybe even get my teeth repaired (four more years! four more years!). It makes me angered to think that instead of 1000 people newly able to heat their homes this winter there's instead one moof who now has a really big boat.
Now Vh1's making a new partridge family. Do we need a new partridge family? Do we need the old one? All the partridge family accomplished was letting Danny Bonadouchey gain perpetual acting employment guest starring as himself. The one partridge family song I like is the one that begins with the part that sounds like the music from Tales from the Crypt, but only that part.
There are a great deal of remakes of things that used to be popular. Although most of them fail, since one out of seventeen don't, then apparently it makes sense to the remake people to keep trying. It would make more sense, from my, admittedly, usually astigmatic perception, to remake a thing which failed the first time. Try to fix what was wrong with it (here's a hint: it probably wasn't the lead actor's skin color) and more strongly emphasize what wasn't. Try to fully achieve the author's original vision if this was not accomplished, or stay away from that entirely if the author was a twit. However, without the name recognition, potential audiences might not even realize it's a remake, so why then, should you bother? You shouldn't. STOP. All of you.
There's a "real" Gilligan's Island, too. Possibly it is called Real Gilligan's Island. This I might be willing to go along with, but only if post-original series products are also recreated, including the cartoon, the [much beloved] nes game, and most importantly the episode of Alf where Alf goes to Gilligan's Island.
I'll say what I think of election day coverage later. If I absolutely must. For now, another unintentional page-length paragraph confederation on a different subject. I should write a book. No one would buy it, but a lot of writers get paid in advance, so there wouldn't be a problem unless I tried to write a second book.
Make sure thou hast located Erdrick's Armour before attempting to cross this divider
What bothers me about the recent word surplus is I know that in a month I won't be able to come up with anything to put here, and then I will do it anyway.
|Friday, October 29, 2004|
MS-DOS would not approve of this divider
|Sephiroth commands an earth threatening meteor||Al Franken used to wrestle in high school|
|Sephiroth was a One Winged Angel||Al Franken doesn't have enough wings to fly with either
|Despite being fictional and evil, Sephiroph attracted a disturbing amount of pre-teen female fans||Al Franken is friends with Janeane Gararafololo|
|Sephiroph can cast a spell whose graphics take about ten minutes to play out several times per battle||Al Franken has really long ads for the Al Franken Show during every commercial break.|
Hmmm. I frequently co-occupy a vehicle with a person who listens to Air Amelica, and I do this for usually less than 26 minutes at a time, yet I always hear the same awkward, unrehearsed ad ("Al... and... Sundance! ...Channel. Togethah... agyain"). And it's Alfred's right to have that ad there, since I guess he owns the station or something. However, one day I was late (quite late) and actually made the venture during the the timeslot of the oh, so creatively titled Al Franken Show. And yet, at the same point in the trip, the same ad comes on. The same US deficit explained with an ordinary slidewhistle, the same babbling, probably inappropriate Strom Thurmond voice, the same section of the highway. The only difference being that it is broadcast during a time where were I not doing what it was telling me to do I could not have been told to do it. You know, Sephiroph tried to push 100 clones of himself into a crater, and Al Franken tried to have 100 clones of his advertisement make me throw myself into a crater. Should I go on? No? Good.
|In a pre-dvd era game with no voiceovers, Sephiroph's words were read rather than heard||In numerous pre-"Mango" era Saturday Night Live sketches, Al Franken made people turn on their closed captioning.|
|Sethearov was a geneticly engineered monster||Al Franken was named after one.|
|Sefirof was hunted by nine bold warriors who would risk their lives to destroy him||Al Franken kind of annoys Bill O'Reilly|
This isn't a divider, but the html tag letters are shipped seperately from the shells, and their flight was delayed. I'm just storing these here until they can be completed.
Am I the only person who is physically ill of the sound of electric guitars? Every day of my life I have to hear some music-like sound sequence consisting wholly or in part of electric guitar noises and I have no way of stopping it. I used to listen to lots of old music until I became sick of violins, but I was able to stop that because it was only by my own decision that I had been hearing them at all. Electric guitars, however, cannot be stopped. I know they sound stupid without their batteries (I can't even tell when or not someone knows how to play them), but why do they even have to be guitars? Why not electric flutes or xylophones or triangles? Probably those will also sound terrible, but that might still serve to make me appreciate the sound of those indomitable guitars, because even in my own personal land of Hypotheria I know they'll be back.
I read against my own advice (because as we saw in the past week any knowledge beyond the most obvious is a foe to my ability to write well) some webpage which insisted this practice is to honor an restless dead wandering punchat named "Jack." Apparently he only travels one night per year and can't see where he's going because he's blind to all light except that which shines out from vegetable orbs. However, this started in something like 1872. If he's not at or beyond wherever he was going by now then I don't think he's ever going to get there. You know what, he's dead, so tripping over a few overweight children or getting hit by the car coming at them isn't going to make a difference.
I heard from less reliable but equally complain-aboutable sources that pumpkins were carved to scare off spirits, but how was it ever proven that this scaring actually occured? (if this doesn't apply to pumpkins there are at least twenty other stupid customary procedures to which it does, so shup) Ehhh, let's pretend, one fine winter in the golden age of disease you're thinking "hey, maybe if I empty and slice up this gourd I won't die a horrible plague death" and then perhaps you don't find yourself coughing up blood and various blood coated objects within the next 36 hours... how do you even consider attributing this to the pumpkin with a stupid face on it? How could you have been not joking when you came up with the idea to do that? And who's the idiot who says "you're probably right, that's exactly what it was, I'll do that too." Christians probably hated pagans because they gave The Spirits so little credit. All right, so this invisible, undetectable force of unexplainable origin is going to not kill you because it's scared of a face it could easily have watched you create? I think history and folktale adaptors will back me up when I tell you that people kept right on dying and Jacks kept getting lost regardless of the lacerations suffered by vegetable orbs.
However it started, I think the pumpkin mutilation only continued out of revenge. People were annoyed that their pumpkin cutting had been in vain so... they cut more pumpkins. It's an Amelican tradition. The only reason Billow Riley still has a show is because all the people who wish he didn't have a show keep watching it. However, this principle cannot be applied to things which no one makes money off of, so any of you who used to read this website back in March and stopped once I started annoying you aren't quite so smart as you think you are. I can update this page whether you see it or not! AH, HA HA HA, HA HA HA!
|Saturday, October 23, 2004|
this guy with an occasionally backwards head from a Cheezit box. Can you deny they are oafs? Allow me to just make a request:
Football players and football watchers, don't be oafs.
November 8 on NBC, it's the 25 Million Dollar
Pyramid Hoax! Usually the prize is only one million dollars on this kind of show, but since the money isn't actually being given (it can't be known in advance that random families will be despicable enough to deserve "reality" money), nbc can say as much as they want. Since I am mentioning the show here, you possibly already assumed that I'm going to say bad things about it. That I assumed your assumption means you're every bit as predicatble as I am.
With the Punked show, the victims deserve what they get for being overpaid and gullible. With Joseph Millionaire again the punishment is somewhat valid because it's mainly scoundrels who audition for "reality" shows, and exclusively scoundrels who would make their goal to compete to marry some guy just because he has some millions of dollars. However, when you go to someone's house and say you're going to give them money and don't, that's just mean. Especially in a time when the middle class has a such a small portion of the overall class wealth statistic weird data I heard and kind of remembered during a brief unplanned encounter with Air America radio. I expect a lot of "you've won $25 million dollars! You can pay your bills! You can keep your house! You can have your cancer treatment! Ha ha, just kidding. Now sign this contract so we can put you on TV and make ourselves millions of dollars in advertising if the show is a hit and have you look like a doof either way." You don't need to give them 25 million of the dollars, but give them something. I will decide this based upon how overallly dopey and average the winning losers look. The ones in the ad... they get to keep the big cardboard check. However, I can't expect every decision to be this easy.
On a related subject, I hate when I try to be topical. The preceding counts as topical because it refers to a show which will premier in less than a month. I saw that advert'ment two days ago and thought "there are more important things to do. you don't need to write about that until november. No, wait, that was when you said you were going to work on that other page from last november. Do it now." So I did. And then I saw another advertisement for the same show yesterday which said, in summary, almost as if in response my talking points, "actually, one of them knows about the trick and really does get the money and just isn't allowed to share." So the show's still loathesome and repugnant, just for a different reason. A reason different enough to completely invalidate what I just wrote up there. However, I could have gotten away with it if I'd uploaded the it as soon as I had written it. Instead, I have a second consecutive entry which I must acknowledge to be completely idiotic, and I don't know how long I can keep that up. It's time consuming.
I think Double Dare and American Gladiators are every bit as legitimate of athletic competitions as tennis or golf. What the grelp is a "ballpark figure," and why is this an unquestioned use of English? You'd think I was an idiot if I went on about a "shrine of the silver monkey figure" (you should, but that's not my attempted point) The only reason the default reaction to a high-socked individual standing in the path of an 80 mile per hour ball, attempting to attack it and then running to stand on a gray square is not laughter is because it's happened for long enough that no one remembers why and thus regard it as sacred. I can fully imagine a head-mounted cup relay system to fill a larger cup with Gak past the red line pleasing or infuriating entirely serious onlookers depending on what state the winning team's members live in. To my perception, Phyisical Challenge could be a real sport, and Baseball could be a real religion. The minorest, least significant modification of a randomly chosen abstract rule is absolutely forbidden. If you want to wear viking helmets then you have to form the Viking Helmet League or Viking Helmet Sect depending on which subject we are speaking. In either case, members of the non viking helmet groups may not participate. I'm not saying I want silly gameshows in the sports section. Indeed, I would prefer no sport section at all. While I'm at it, "Entertainment" can go, too. Truly, I could do away with much of a newspaper, but I won't because I don't buy them.
Hmmm, I wonder if I can transition this into another uncfocused anger against Helly Pothuh books that I wrote months ago and forgot about.
Just as it bothers me when some twit paints a picture of something like squirrels decorating a Christmas tree or rabbits praying, I'm similarly irked when some hack writer envisions a "world" in which nothing is thought wrong with adapting without alteration arbitrary earth human traditions which can only sensibly be thought to have developed for earth humans. Thus, when I hear of an alternate dimension inhabited by British boarding school children, the short-haired males to wear grey suits with ties and the long-haired females to wear high socks and other, somehow, stupid-by-comparison looking garments, and these Britons spending their leisure times engaging in organized arbitrarily regulated athletic gatherings wearing even stupider looking uniforms, I cannot help but distance me from it. If you think dropping the word "dragon" in every other paragraph is going to dissuade me I regard you as but a fool. Do not extoll the brilliance and creativity of JKRowling for merely swapping a few textbook titles and contriving the inclusion of a few mythical sounding buzzwords.
Even if the stories are good (which I doubt, but I'll accept the possibility that they are), I'm too fundamentally offended by all the underlying concepts to derive any enjoyment from it. Oh wow, I just attempted to use my internet and some terrible television show came on behind me. I'd turn it off, but I know it would come back on. Before I had a chance to cover my ears I overheard "in the magical world, Harry is a jock..." Any world in which people aspire to be referred to as "jock" is too mundane, typical and like this one to be rightly called magical. From this I gather the implication that nerds in the actual world are only not jockulus because they don't get the opportunity. That's disgusting. Even if it's for the most part true, the shame that they feel for not being jockable somewhat balances it out. However, when some bespectacled bowl haircut wimp is allowed any pride then they just need to die. All of them. We can't risk it happening again.
Why is the only reason that anyone who's not me wants the books banned due to witchcraft references? This Rowling bofe did not invent the concept of magic. Where were those protest dopes in the 90 decade when the video game scene was so saturated with spikyhaired sorcerian swashbucklers? I think Secret of Mana, having, of all things, witchcraft mascots would have been especially suspicious (Consider that Joe Camel was exiled to obscurity, and no one even suggested that cigarette smoking was sending Our Kids to hell). Where were the boycottsmiths when Penn and Teller's Sin City Spectacular premiered, and I made my mother let me watch it, and it was one of the worst television shows ever produced and I obnoxious fake-laughed through the whole thing so as not to look foolish but actually looked even more foolish WHERE WERE THEY THEN, HURGH?!
|Sunday, October 17, 2004|
We've been warned. We've been threatened, but it looks like it just might happen. I don't know if this country will survive until 2008 with a republican president in the whitehouse, but it seems all but inevitable now.
We're making progress, I just know it.
Also, for no reason, what's so great about "New York Style" bagels? Do you honestly want someone to bite into one of your bagels and say, "mmmm, tastes like New York?" Does that mean the taste is as if you'd bent down and taken a bite out of the vomit-and-worse stained sidewalk? Why... If I wanted that, I'd eat a pop-tart.
I wish more people did, but I'm beginning to suspect they do it on purpose!
|Monday, October 11, 2004|
I said once that the first few times I saw evidence of that lion show, all relevant parts of me became stuck in a cringe. So far, that has happened every time I learn about the dreaded computer fish movie. No, the other one. The newer one. I first became aware of it while departing from the cinema in which I watched the spiderman display, but I regretably did not give it the attention it deserved. It was so long ago, I was quite foolish then. I could not comprehend the anguish and pain which would be brought forth if I did not take immediate measures to defend myself from it. It's certainly not like I enjoy cringing. That can become painful.
Right, so there's the usual creepy anthromorphation process, where, for a reason which does not exist, the characters are michael jacksoned to vaguely resemble the unremarkable twuts who make the voices. This is especially creepy (hence my initially describing it as such) because fish and humans have completely different body and head layouts, so that other than the presence of dorsal fins the end products scarcely resemble fish at all. We got end fins (why do I know what dorsal is called?) being used like feet (which isn't new, but I've always hated that), teeth where they aren't welcome, eyes shifted forward, facial features arbitrarily grafted onto faceless cnidarians... it just bothers me to think about. it. We got tables and ladders and chairs, despite the very reasons for their invention not existing underwater. They'd need to use paperweights for everything. That's too much of a hassle to be practical. Despite the marine biological documentary that is Spongebob Skwayrpants, there's more to depicting wet environs than perpetually blue backgrounds. Also present are lines and hip-hoppity try-hard references so unforgivably corny as to make me suspect the movie was sponsored by the Kansas tourism board. I reckon one "it's your birthday" has to be worth at least three "Got Milks" from the Disney Cow Movie. Also I am shown, in a fashion remiscient of this inexcusably not isolated incident, the celebrity voice-sayers saying their voice lines into microphones. They aren't saying anything special, and they aren't saying it in any special way; I am only shown this to justify the money spent on hiring them, since, as I said before, anyone could do this job. At least, anyone could do it as well as they do.
I don't like the order of operations used to make animated films. Although the previous wrong way was to start with the title (like "101 Dalmations" just happened), the new wrong way is to hire celebrities first. That's the sort of thing which is so wrong as to make the thought of explaining how it is wrong seem also quite wrong.
I heard an idiotic quote usage recently: Time Magazine (not a person from it, but a creepy anthromorphozation of an actual issue) sez: "It's finding neeemuh with an urban, contemporary tilt!" That's not a compliment. That's a factual observation. Someone at Dreamworks almost certainly watched the other fish movie and said "I bet we could copy this except with an urban, contemporary tilt and get away with 400 million dollars and additionally remind people that we made Shrec again." I have no other option but to agree.
I saw an advertisement (shock beyond shock) in which at presumably a birthday party are Some Kid and one of those clowns that are always at TV birthday parties. Both of them desire a single hotdog, not because they like hot dogs, but because it has Frenchie's mustardo on it. If they (the French) really want me to buy the stuff, since all past similar exhibitions have failed, why bother with the hotdog? Show me people drinking mustard through straws or eating it with a spoon or frozen around a popsicle stick. As it is, I see more hot dog on display than mustard and I have to tell you it's not working. Ehhhm.
I did not believe the clown would be allowed to win the prize. I came to this conclusion because everyone hates clowns, and during the previous decade that had finally been acknowledged by television people, though unfortunately almost entirely towards mimes, who make up only a small fraction of the problem, if any at all (I've certainly never witnessed one). Much to my surprise, eventually the clown sprays the child's eyes with some unnamed liquid substance (I like the story better if I don't get anymore specific than that), takes the hot dog (with mustard), gleefully escapes and... I was glad to see it. Not just because I think some people complained to get it pulled from circulation, but... ehhh, I've never liked clowns either, but I realized when I saw this that I just like when adults hurt children on television.
On television, unless it's something made about or during the 1950s, in which case it will almost certainly come in the form of an unjustified authority figure commencing the beat as a result of something some other brat that I'm supposed to like but don't did. For the purpose of my amusement, it works best when the hurting is carried out by a person without any antiquated cultural norms (why am I just remembering my 2002 sociology class now?) to hide behind. Like, for example, a clown. Time for clowns to fight back.
Once they've done that, then we can hunt them down.
Eventually they'll go into hiding, and anyone who finds a clown will be guaranteed instant fame and fortune.
I'll just hold on to this one and see if it increases in value.
|Wednesday, October 06, 2004, Really|
I hope that means someone was shot. If not Clooney, anyone who would decide the location for their showdown to be over Clooney's Naked Behind.
No no no. This I will not stand for!
This is beef pasta (I guess), not beef milkshake. If I wanted that I'd just buy a cow. I will never buy a cow.
This almost makes me wish I hadn't named the main character "Spam," (though one of the few good four letter names) because that completely changes the reason I think this is funny.
I'm not especially concerned with what you think of it.
Yesh, you just keep that lawnmower running while you chat with someone who you'll be able to see later. It's not like that machine makes a loud, disruptive noise that people across the road can hear, right? If you can talk over it, so can they.
Oh, you sure got me this time. I honestly believed you had finished talking and were ready to work toward finishing the job you've convinced yourself must be done. Hey, it's not like you could turn that thing back on if you turned it off, right? 'Ey. We're in October now, so why don't all of you yardwork yarbos get on back to Floriduh already before the hurricanes realize you've left and start looking here.
If I could turn back time... No, I used that one already, didn't I.