Im a boy on 15 years, and I like to goals elfs. My friend Arvid Rydal inspire me. I like to write my own stories to. Im about 1,60 cm long, have brown hair and brown-green eyes. My hobbies are scouting, computers, read books,paint and play DOOM, Heretic, Jazz Jack Rabbit 2 and on gameboy Zelda,Pokemon Yellow and Blue and on Supernitendo King Artur, Zelda and Act Raiders. My homepage is about my club and are only on swedich, but I do my best to do a englich page about the club.The name is 'Diabetesklubben'(the Diabetic club).

The Inaudible Cabinet of Indifferent Breakfast Burritos

Because deep down, you really do hate yourself.


First twelve
Second twelve
Third twelve
Fourth page, not necessarily containing twelve.
Fifth page, and I've officially lost count.
No one who went to this page has ever returned.
I liked it better when it was just the pictures with captions.
A wholly needless, I expect, link back to the main page

Wednesday, July 30, 2003
Hamburglar Helper, Takes a great meal!

Here comes another throw-away piece that a better site would have thrown away.

From a spectator's point of view, these Qusay and Uday characters remind me of Star Wars -3 villain Darth Maul. There's hype and hype and hype, everyone's afraid of them, and then they're killed before the sequel or doing anything terribly significant/significantly terrible onscreen. I don't doubt those Husseiny individuals were just as 'orrible as I've heard, but I've only ever seen footage of them at semi-formal parties. There's plenty for me to hate there, yes, but that's probably not enough for most uninformed westerners. "Them two Ay-rabs tweren't so bad. They seemed like personable folks. I would've invited them to one of my parties!" (no, I don't know anyone who talks like that) Ehhh. Just like it took two dastardly Jedi to defeat D. Maul (and even then only after skulduggery), I hear the Husseins were killed with anti-tank missiles. You know, anti-tank, as in designed to blow up tanks, and missiles, as in more than one missile. Ten, if my information is correct (ehhh).

Don't try and figure it out. I do this to amuse myself.

Indeed. And if final boss theory applies, Saddam will withstand twice as many missiles before appearring to be dead but then transforming, and then making you kill him again without so much as replenishing your life-indicator. The nerve of some people.

Look for this headline in all the major newspapers in the coming weeks/months/years/never. Ha, scooped 'em again! Matt Drudge, you may bake me cookies.

Saturday, July 26, 2003
These aren't diamonds, you bimbo. They're salt!

Another sound file...

Blah blah and blah blah blah BLAH BLAH BLAHDEEFRICKENBLAH.

Driving your ad campaign so far into the ground that it comes out the other side: Soulless evil voiceoverer finds self in a hospital with severe muffin-inflicted injuries

Although I would hate this man regardless of what he's saying just for his smug-smiling-always-wearing-belt-in-denial-of-hairloss-with-baseball-hat-showing-basketball-team-logo voice, I'll gladly take a fortunate coincidence to hate him additionally for not quitting his job, and agreeing to say this blah thing. Hasn't this gone on long enough? It's not trying to make a point anymore, if indeed you can prove that it ever was. This does not constitute self parody. Even if it did, when's the last time a self-proclaimed parody was ever funny? I'd even prefer the return of

this legend if it meant eluding the supreme overlord Mastercard's shenanigans. I might be a bit underbiased, though. I was indeed very fortunate with the Dell bit, as it didn't attain circulation during any show that I watched until it had already been going on for so long that the guy didn't have to say the line anymore, because they expected me to be so in love with the whole thing that I'd say it myself, I suppose.

“You're gonna say it, aren't you?”
“OH, HE KNOWS!”

“He” might have, but I didn't. Or at least I wouldn't have, but fortunately the Tonight Show booking dream-team saw fit to bring this guy on as a guest before the ad debuted outside California. (in case you're wondering, ever resilient as I sometimes am, it took a fat, ambiguously gay, unquestionably annoying intern dubbed “Extreme Ross” to make me stop watching the show, four years after I should have). So anyway, I didn't have quite so much time to become ill of the Dell getting dope as many others seem to have.

Still, that was a very rare case. The next thing I mention concerns the important matter of dealing with Pepsi loss, which I also don't have audio proof of. I could probably turn my television set on right now, and wait three minutes to get some, but then I'd have to delete this sentence, which does a better job communicating how often the advertisement comes on than another sentence would saying that and only that. Ehhh.
Some scary crosseyed weirdo whom I'm certain I'm expected to recognize but don't sings along with some Looney Tunes background music

It's a tale of a guy named Zeke who has come here from BATTLE CREEK."

If you're wondering where "here" is, remember that the initial reports indicating that 99% of the world's population didn't live in or around California (yes, in the pacific ocean. You fool) were completely wrong, so "here" is likely there. Anyway.

As he walks with his Pepsi can, he stole pies from a strange dressed clam

I actually couldn't make out what the words to this line were. If you couldn't tell. By the stange grammar. I think over a long term, this won't matter AT ALL.

The Pepsi falls, the Pepsi's lost, the JOY OF LIFE he needs at any cost...

How about seventy-five cents?! That's right, the will to live can be yours for three quarters of a dollar! Ehhh, unless the machine is out of order. In that case you might as well kill yourself.

The Pepsi's found, the people cheer, for the joy of Pepsi now is here!

DILEMMA AVERTED! But it was all for naught, for it is now revealed to not be your own life which should be enjoyed, but the Pepsi's. Like the man said, the JOY OF the PEPSI is what matters. So go and kill yourself anyway.

Wednesday, July 23, 2003
My problem with "Seabiscuit" is largely the insinuation that the horse really gives a bucket of wet mice.

Spy Kids 3: D. Game Over. What kind of name is that? You're only entitled to one subtitle, how did these griebens get away with using two, one of which being a letter, the other inane and pandery? With that name alone topped are the previous two Spy Kid features in levels of annoymeness. First of all, spies and kids, both things which make for terrible improbable plots, together again. And next, ever the villain, re-emerges the "people actually paid for this twice already" factor. Maybe I'm old fashioned (as my wooden computer will attest), so please tell me at what point spying stopped being the undetected gathering of information, and became "make it up as you go along" plot contrivances. Even if every single gizmo, contraption and widget is introduced at the beginning, you know that scene has to be filled in on the madlib form last. Is rampant revision and rewriting to ensure continuity and coherency an important part of pretty much every written work? Most likely, it is. My point is that I really need to start editing things before I upload them here. Actually, I've discovered no less (and no more) than five miscellaneous internet weirdos in the universe who said at some point that what I have here isn't so awful. Not one of them contributing "just ease up on that whole 'not knowing what you're talking about thing.'" Ehhh, I'm going to keep going.

The lost cause of the previous paragraph aside, it still irritates me that James Bond is more infallible than Mama "yeah-my-parents-named-me-that" Berenstain Bear. With all the OH, YOU CAN'T KILL ME BECAUSE I AM ACTUALLY A ROBOT DUPLICATE AND THE REAL ME IS INVISIBLE AND FOILING YOUR SCHEME BECAUSE I AM A SPY AND THESE ARE MY "GADGETS!" OOPS, G2G, TIME TO DO SEX WITH "BOND GIRL!" It reminds me of the one time I accidentally looked at a role playing (RP as the [spy] kids call it) forum. It was a whole lot of "ha ha, you didn't actually kill me, I was just PRETENDING to be dead after getting crushed by your giant robot, and have now killed you with mein psychic mind waves!" Although I've never seen a James Bond film (and when has that ever stopped me?), that's the impression I'm getting. Since putting this here I've actually seen some of that Bond, and have more legitimate and valid reasons for hating it now And the jokes, URGGGH. There is no doubt in my mind he's the kind of werp who'll continually be entering rooms from the ceiling entirely for an excuse to say "thought I'd just drop in." And whoever names these things needs to be stuffed into a sock. EVERYONE GOLDENLIVES TO DIE ANOTHER GOLD TOMORROW. Anyway. Now there are Spy Kids. Although they're not British (yet), that's less a good thing and more of a not-as-bad thing.

I am unable to discern what's going on here, but I can tell you that no amount of spying played any role in it (unless you count the giant, floating, blue and orange heads in the background, which I don't). Even the Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers work more discreetly than young Elton John and Darlene from "Roseanne" here.

And while it's generally considered unacceptable for kids to do naked things to each other on film, asinine, irrelevant love trash still found it's way in.
Actual commercially compressed exchange:

Jope:Who's that?
Dork:Uhhh... duhhh...
Protrozz:I'm his GIRLFRIEND! A'doiy-hee!

(a'doiy-hee part added by me)

Just once, couldn't we have female and notfemale characters coexist and want NOTHING TO DO with each other after any amount of time?! The next time I hear "new Harry Potter book" and "hormones" in the same sentence I'm going to gag myself until I vomit all over whoever said it. Even if they were making fun of it. You know, I went to school as a student for at least twelve years, and not once was it ever nearly so blatantly evident that anyone wanted to crush on anyone else. And some of these were normal people, even.

Maybe Kids are Spies after all, as they've been doing a marvelous job keeping secret any decent reason for anyone to want to see this. Normally, yes, I prefer knowing as little as possible about what's going to happen, but seeing as this is the third in a series, I ought to at least be able to manage some remote guess. As far as plot goes, I cannot. However, I think it's safe to say with a tagline like this

"plot" isn't going to be the selling point. So what is? Three-Dee? I give science at large another month to prove that causes cancer, and that everyone who went out to see this is doomed. It serves them right.

I've been hearing about this for over a week, and all I've been able to figure out is that everyone can fly and a lot of stuff gets flung in the general direction of the camera. Also, they are dressed like the

Backstreet Boys from that video where they're dressed like the

Centurions, possibly for some reason. While I don't believe I'm old enough to remember the Centurions, I definitely had a Centurions coloring book at one point. Awww, ban. What am I doing denying involvement with the Centurions right after I VOLUNTEERED BACKSTREET BOYS KNOWLEDGE?! Curse you, spy kids!

The only way Spy Kids 3:D Gameover can be beaten is if future installments institute a second numbering system. Then we could soon have Spy Kids 3:D:2: The Mighty Ducks, and no one wants that. If it is ever revealed that someone does want that, I have plenty of socks to stuff more people into.

Friday, July 11, 2003

A B C D East and west; going on an Alpha-Quest!

Uh-oh. This just in, lukewarm off the uesr-friendly upload script Compuserve employees refer to as "the presses:" Michael Jackson said that he's like Jesus. That's not good, is it. Because being like Jesus is bad, I guess. Hey C-Serve (as the kids call it), You know what else he said, [months ago]? He said that he is Peter Pan. Not like, is. Now, simply being like Peter Pan is ungood, but fully existing as Peter Pan is a whole lot worse, and might even constitute news. For one thing, that means when he gets older he's going to turn into Robin Williams. I would possibly raise both my eyebrows over that one. Here's a quote from the quoting part:

According to the The [New York] Post's [Liz] Smith, Jackson goes on to talk about "the devil in people" and how he "loves all races." He also acknowledges how "jealous" everyone else is of him. "I'm resilient. I have rhinoceros skin. Nothing can hurt me. Nothing." He also says "God bless you" a lot."

Why, that's simply inexcusable. We ought to nail him to a piece of wood shaped like an addition sign for that! Feel free to insert your own "he only loves all races because he's been all of them" joke.

In other not-news, it turns out the city with the smartest people is just the one with the most libraries and highest newspaper circulation rates. Because getting a newspaper, and possibly reading one makes you not an idiot, or something. Back when I still could, I often found the newspaper snippets I scanned to be just as moronic as what Compuserve thrusts at me every day, and I get that for free (in addition to the cost of internet, that is. Bah).

Twosday, Jullai 08, 2003
The constitution states that we should give the president a big kiss
4-29-06 I acknowledge that I had this line wrong for over two years

You know why this is called NOW? Because no one who buys it will want to hear any of those songs LATER. I don't even want to hear them now, but some people do. And they will buy this. As if there weren't radio stations that played only these songs. But no one will want to hear them three months from now. Fortunately, by then volume 14 should be out. Lots of lasting value, there. They put out around four of these a year. I was quite shocked enough to know they had gotten all the way up to thirteen without Bat-Man finding out, but in England they have...

awww, ban. 55. That's a lot of unlovable good-ideas-at-the-time to forget about. I don't know if that means they started earlier, or if the attention spans are just shorter over there. Considering that Hahhy Pothuh (you have to say it like that) books average on 8000 pages, I'd go with the first option. However, my dope parents had read a shared copy like three times each in two days, so I suspect someone's just sticking vcr operation manuals between a couple bound pieces of paper so they have something to carry around and look smart pretending to read. They'll fill up the beginning and ending pages with magicy sounding buzzwords and a couple capitalized legends like Gicklegor, Gitch and Fumblewig to throw off and thoroughly repulse anyone like me who would start to catch on to the trick. Anyway, I don't know.

Here's an oddity I found on the amazon.con listing for 53:

I take from this that 49 was so bad, even people who bought the ones which came after and before won't admit to owning it.

Maybe you're thinking “well, golly gee, those songs might be pretty awful, but there just has to be a way to make those songs more annoying!” For your sake, I hope you aren't, but if you are, then I can't do anything but pretend what follows is good news:

Kidz Bop 3 is on the way. It's the same songs, I mean, the exact same songs, except heavily edited (moreso than the already sufficiently Walmart compatible NOW edtions, apparently) and sung by the Welches grape juice bowl haircut choir, credited as the "Kidz Bop Kidz." (which sounds more like a term invented to downplay the seriousness of school violence) There aren't nearly as many editions, but just the fact that there's more than one proves that somewhere, somehow, there's a market for this. Unless it's another trick, and no one buys it at all, and all the cds are blank. The cd cases are occasionally updated to look like a new version has come out, to create the illusion that people are buying it. The goal is to eventually make those who disapprove so contempt filled that they start to murder anyone who looks like the actors paid to act like they enjoy Kidz Bop in the advertising. And eventually this will lead to all-out elitist nerd vs. trend-slave wuss armageddon. Not unlike the way Saddam Hussein and George W'Bush both claimed support of Zeus (under the aliases "God" and "Allah") during the recent sort-of war. They were both right. Zeus likes watching people fight. If Altered Beast and Dungeons of the Unforgiven have taught us anything (that's called "edutainment"), Zeus is most effective in the role of instigator. Ohhh, that Zeus!

Wednesday, July 02, 2003

With the trainin' and the prayers and the vitamins too, Don't mess with us or we'll beat you too!

What's so great about Jessica Lynch? I've heard again and again what a legend she supposedly is. You know, for getting captured and all. A real hero. You know where she was rescued from? An Iraqi hospital. Those brutal sub-human monsters put our hero in a hospital! How dare they! Don't they know it would make a far better story if she was rescued from a cage supported by a threadbare rope above a serpent filled lava river? Excuse me, lava moat. You might be thinking that the people who saved the hero are the real heroes. I'd say it was pretty heroic for Jessica Lynch to not get killed by the Americans who raided the unarmed hospital late at night, shooting out the windows and kicking down the doors and whatnot. We applaud you, Lynchie! There were other prisoners, by the way. But they weren't half as heroic as Jessica Lynch, oh no. Why, I'll bet they were even men, or something. Those cowards. They probably weren't even getting talcum powder back rubs from the personnel. They just weren't 19-years-oldy enough. Congratulations on being captured, nineteen years old and female, Jessica Lynch!

Thorsdee, June 26, 2003

Zach, Zach, he's a Lego maniac.

This looks better uncolored (oh, really?) on paper, but my scanner is broken, as you may be aware. I think its message is important, nonetheless.

It will probably be a while before I put anything here again. I didn't want to say that, because I said it last month and then I thought of things. So maybe I will again. Maybe that's just the way it has to work now. I only get “inspiration” when it means to spite me. Not that it's necessarily a bad thing that an update is distant, but I know someone, somewhere, who may or may not be me using a library's internet, is checking this fairly frequently, possibly gathering evidence for a criminal case against me. So I just thought I'd let you (or me) know.

Why do androids always want to be human just to find out what love is? Why, I've been human most of my life, and I don't even know. Why forfeit unlimited capacity for knowledge and perfection, and imperviousness to everything (except spikes, we're still working on that) when its not even a sure thing? just to experience shallow attraction and decades of awkwardness and spite? Bah.

I'm tired of being force-fed how “hot” and “desirable” Hali Bury is. Certainly, me being a segzually null freak (so much so that typing words relating to it makes me feel icky) I couldn't form a believable argument either way, but come on, she looks like a less effeminate Richard Simmons. Give up already.

Wednesday, June 18, 2003
Grammar note: Applebees should be called Apple Is.

I have some great news! (and it's in a wav file for some reason)

Yes, Baby Bob is indeed back. Not only that, over a year since premiering and not immediately being cancelled, Baby Bob is also still a baby. Which is a good thing for Bob. I expect it would be quite embarrassing to have the name Baby Bob and no longer be a baby.

I came to the startling realization last week that I would rather watch Baby Bob than Last Call with Carson Daly. Even if I actually was with Carson Daly, and it hurt his feelings, I would watch Baby Bob (I'm still debating Yes Dear). I really never had too much of a problem with that Daly person before he got a show on NBC. I couldn't stand him, sure, but that applied, and still does, to the entire MTV channel. Perhaps he's not like that off “work,” I possibly thought at one point. However, the moment at which his show replaced the SCTV reruns which I'm not Canadian enough to see elsewhere, he stepped into my domain, and I saw not only that the celeb*-loving drone who gets paid by MTV to be that is real, but that he's real-ly boring. I suspect NBC only hired this jope so they could say they have “Carson” on their late night lineup again, and trick a bunch of people into staying up that late, who would by then be too tired to turn it off, because it's quite possibly the dullest thing I've ever seen, and can't imagine why anyone might watch it willingly, at any point during a day. I should have known (and I did) it would be bad, as his first guest ever was Alicia Keyes. Yes, Aleesha I-can-play-the-same-six-notes-and-moan-like-I-need-an-appendectomy-at-the-same-time Keez. So not only is the show boring, but it hurts my ears, too. Carson's always having guests who won't appear on other shows, like Salman Rushdie and Zeus and Hitler. Your Davids Letterman and Jays Leno can't get guests like Michael F. Tyson and uhhh... someone else, I'm sure. Because they'd say something that would in all likelihood get themselves eaten. No chance of that with Carson Daly (whom I might enjoy seeing that happen to) because he has no personality, and all the interview skills of... dare I say it, Craig Kilborn, so subjects of controversy don't need to fear being asked the questions which are the very reason someone might watch a show to see them. I don't have a personality either, but I also don't have a television show, let alone two. And at least I know how to hate things. I can imagine Carson Daly getting angry because his lawn hasn't been mowed. And what's so wrong with that, anyway? It's grass. It's not like someone's going to fall down and impale themselves on it (again, I might enjoy seeing that) just because the individual pieces are called “blades.” And even if that were true, the difference between harmless and lethal isn't going to happen in a week, so I can't comprehend why the bimp I hear what sounds to be the entire roman garrison deafening the world with their malicious moss-munching-machinations multitudinal times every motherfrupping month.

But as I was saying, Baby Bob is back.

*Carson Daly probably reads magazines that use the term “celeb”

Monday, June 09, 2003
Get well soon? Screw that. Get well now.

Americans are so lazy. The currency symbol for Greater American Dollars is just an S, a regular letter, with two vertical lines through it. That's all. No creativity whatsoever. And some people can't even be bothered to make the second line. "Oh, why risk overexerting meself making two lines when people can figure it out with just one?" Other countries aren't so much better, but they're still somewhat better. Sure, the symbol for pounds is an L with a line through it, but at least it's a fancy L. And hows about them yens? A Y, I know, but since the Japanese alphabet doesn't use Y, I'll excuse it. This time. See? I can be positive.

I was going to place an hr width line here, but then I remembered I had these dividers lying around. I made them almost four years ago. That's old, for the internet. I used Corel Photopaint, of all things. It wasn't even the 32 bit Windows 95 version. I think it must have been bought at a discount, since I got it in 1996. I certainly hope it was, because it came in a really big box, which means the original price was probably quite high, and I hardly ever used the poor neglected thing. But that's enough irrelevence for now (ha ha ha, right). I will probably start putting these unsightly objects on the page a lot, now. Too much, I expect. Expect to become quite sick of them, if you ever come back.

Thursday, May 29, 2003

I'm not looking for big laughs. Just a few gigglebytes!

Why the pfack is there a Grand Theft Auto Vice City sound track (And why does that dope with the blue dress-like-thing and the totally functionless belt get a whole box, while everyone else has to share)? Is it scientifically probable that any of the potential buyers of such a thing have never in their entire lives seen a best of the eighties “exclusive TV offer?” I'm sure there are, but they probably don't own television sets either, let alone Playstation 2s, so wouldn't be the least bit intrigued if they saw something related to one lying around. OH, BUT IF YOU PLAY IT IN YOUR CAR IT WILL BE JUST LIKE YOU ARE IN DA VEE DEE YOH GAME!!!1(one) Right. And then I suppose you'll drive up a parking garage and off the roof for bonus points, right? And drive over some pedestrians, while you're at it. Fire your rocket launcher at a police helicopter, why don't you. But make sure you remember to eject the CD before you abandon your vehicle to steal someone else's! The car was free, but you [possibly] paid money for that disc!



Uh-oh, an entry only designated by an hr width line. That must mean the next part is uninspired, rambling, and possibly just plain crazy. I don't talk to real people. I have to do this or I start writing e-mail.

Albert Brooks is one of those people who I'm always told, and am supposed to just accept is funny, despite never having been presented with evidence to back it up. I, personally am of the opinion that if it were true, it would be obvious, and not need proof, but the legends of fellow despisees Billy Crystal and Robin Williams commonly try to excuse them by mentioning Soap and Mork and Mindy, so I'm surprised that no one even bothers attempting to justify this whore. It's as if he has some humorous-immunity card that no one's legally allowed to question. It does not matter to me if he's related to Mel Brooks, or even local NBC “funny” anchor-man Gerry Brooks. Really, I don't. I actually felt kind of bad saying unnice things about the dope in the entry below this one, but somehow discrediting Albert Brooks' entire career leaves me with no regret. And now he's involved with two new films, the sort which I would've hated anyway, so to hear his name associated with them doesn't help, unless you believe that I enjoy hating, in which case it helps a lot. Everytime I hear that voice say "I'm coming, kneemoh!" I want to gouge out my eyes. And I don't even hear with my eyes. But since I'm usually covering them during commercial breaks, my first reflex, that of a gouging motion would affect whatever I happened to be touching at the time, in this case, mein augen. While I actually don't know for certain if that is his voice, it's still the voice of someone who was worked with Albert Brooks, and so thus has likely been sufficiently tainted.

You can't possibly conceive of how much I despise. I've just wanted to bite him, except he probably wouldn't notice, and I might change into a were-brooks (his jopitude is potent enough to work in reverse), so I've thought better of it. He seems to think he's some kind of official authority on what's funny. And now he goes and makes me type that last sentence and look like a hypocrite. When will it end? Anger anger anger. I actually heard him begin an anecdote with “you know, all my life I've been making people laugh...” Anyone who can say that without a hint of guilt should be forced to wear a suit made of used tissues for however long it takes to... well, get him in the suit first. Then I'll decide.

He's the sort of dope who'd star in a movie whose sole selling point is that it's similar to another movie about a large obese marriage (like that's good or something). And deebidy-doo, he did. They might as well say "hey, here's something totally unoriginal you've seen already, except Albert Brooks is in it!" I suppose I should be glad that awful, awful romantic comedies aren't pretending to be unique anymore, but I wish they could claim to be identical to something with a less homicide-inducing title. And not have Albert Brooks in them. Don't think this is a Jewish thing. Marc Maron is arguably more Jewish than Albert Brooks, and has amused me on numerous occasions, so it's not that. And just to cover every area, Tracy Morgan is black and Scott Thompson is gay. Steven Seagal looks kind of Asian. I don't think he is, but I don't think he's a comedian either, and yet I find the whole of “Out For Justice” plenty more hilarious than the meticulously chosen highlights in promotions for “The Inlaws.”

Monday, May 26, 2003

Who's this Fifty Scent guy? Does that mean he smells old?

Recently, someone who was popular twenty years ago re-emerged to do what made them famous, and shouldn't have. A man who has aged quite a bit since the “good old days,” and is simply painful to watch try to keep up with the “kids” who now make their living at it. This blue-wearing individual's catchphrases get a great reaction from the live audience, but those of us watching through our television sets can see through the facade to someone who should really just retire already.

This space to build suspense. Also so you can't see the picture without scrolling down. If you still can, I reckon you're killing your eyes reading these tiny letters. Stop it.

 

Who is it?

 

No, actually. I chose this picture at random to throw you off. I have no idea who it is.

There, on the right!

On the season finale of Saturday Night Live, after some kind of pointless promotional tour, Dan Aykroyd once more attempted to entertain people with the old Blues Brothers routine. But why? I remember reading around a year ago something about Dan Aykroyd quitting show business. And I guess his method for doing such a thing is to show up more and more until he's been on every show, and so often that no one wants to watch, eventually making show business, in effect, quit show business. At least he's ambitious.

Does anyone really like the Blues Brothers? (I'm sure anyone who does thankfully won't tell me, so the question is therefore rendered hypothetical) They're not apparently trying to be funny, and I, as an ashamed member of many key demographics, don't find their songs particularly memorable or enjoyable. And... and... they aren't even real brothers (they aren't black, either). So what's the point? What is he still doing this for? Nostalgia? It's not like you can't find Saturday Night Live re-runs on cable. I can understand maybe, back in the seventies, when apparently that show did a lot [more] of junk like this, and the only late night competition came from ABC, people wanted to watch it. And they still can, if they really want to. On the E! channel. I don't think something that spawned one movie and then somehow another after one of them was dead is going to be in the half hour that gets cut out.

I have to give Jim Belushi credit, though. My brother is also funnier than I am, and if he became dead after much cocaine and heroin use, I'd gladly do just the same thing he did. Granted, I don't know how to obtain cocaine, but I'm sure Aykroyd's original back-up fat guy, John Goodman could get me some. Cocaine is like crack to fat comedians. I'll bet he eats dougnuts frosted with it.

Thursday, May 22, 2003

I try and Wang Chung every night.

Does it really matter who wins the American Idol? (or won, it should be. I think it was done last night) It's not as if the album hit single wasn't written months ago. And how hard is singing, really? You only think you see so many people who can't because those are exactly the ones most likely to think they can. What's really being run is a correctly placed arrogance contest. I remember hearing that the judges were “mean,” and harshly criticized the contestants. I thought that was one of the best ideas for a show I'd ever heard, until I learned that someone has to win. Ehhhwuh? And surprise surprise, it's the same exact junk that we already hear wherever fine soft drinks are whored for every day. These judges don't want perfection in talent, just typicality. It's the American Idol, after all. What America supposedly idolizes.

Do you enjoy older songs not currently included in a retro-phase? If yes, well then, I'm afraid you have to go.
Is a symphonic aria more to your liking? You really think people would pay for that from anyone who's not Charlotte Church? Get out!
If you sing a well known song, will you do it on-key and not at all whinily? I'll give you something to whine about. Shoo, shoo.
Do you wear clothes that look cheap and actually are cheap? You can keep buying them, because we won't pay you.
Does your list of favorite adjectives omit “an' shit?” Why don't you go eat some and die? Clearly, America hates you. Good day.

Naked Sugar Bear sez:
Pleasant dreams, kids.

"Sugar" Bear
Note: the above message does not necessary represent the thoughts or words of Sugar Bear, so you might not get brutally mauled and raped you as soon as you divert your eyes.

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