Everybody knows how much I love the website “tumblr.” Everybody is also occasionally confident of erroneous information. “Tumblr radar” is a section of the website layout for identifying “hot” circulating objects, as a convenient and benevolent means to ensure popular stuff gets more popular. However, in practice it generally just shows really bad artwork from a limited range of grotesque styles.

This is the first thing I remember having a problem with. “why the heck is this artless piece of trash on the ‘radar’.png” I asked, unaware in May of 2011 that this was the radar’s primary function and that we would continue to regard each other in the same way for the duration of our relationship. I had a minor rainbow breakdown in November of that year, and didn’t even need to incorporate this picture because it’s so consistently done and unoriginal and so consistently praised for being original.

I’ve seen rainbows come out of every possible orifice, but almost nobody ever eats one. Although it is difficult to tell which direction this one is travelling in, the idle teeth suggest involuntary action. For decades the Skittles company has invited us to taste the rainbow but never to overindulge to the point that we can no longer contain it within ourselves. This picture is “original” in the respect that the protagonist does not have a horse-like shape.

1-6-2012
Afterward I had this labeled “tumblr radar tops itself by tunneling beneath the worst thing it showed me previously.” I don’t seem to have kept a record of them prior to this. Now I reevaluate my position because though it took absolutely no effort and brings me no joy to look at, i can at least swallow a piece of food while it is visible. Even if it is a rainbow excretion orgy it’s being run on Atari 2600 hardware before they figured out how to make those gradient backgrounds.

1/7/2012
This is literally a picture of typed characters. Why do i bother? Even the infinite monkeyss at typewriters would be disgusted to have this shoved at them as an example of success.

1-22
I’m not proud of you for remembering something that somebody else said! Even if that person’s name rhymes.

3-19
Oh I just noticed that says “explodingdog” on it. I’m not looking to know what that is but I’ve seen that particular random combination of words before. Sure that and toasty frog and flying omelette and dresden kodak and razor blade casserole adirondack bucketmouse. I used to know somebody that I thought hated me who had a webpage with a picture he drew of that red box thing on it linking to a page titled “my +2 boots of dick-kicking” and everything he said was a run-on paragraph reference to some war movie or pornographic comic book or in this case internet non-gag I’d never heard of. Anyway that was 9 years ago and the source artist doesn’t look to have improved much.

There’s no subject matter that people who can’t draw and can’t think like better than coffee (except rainbows issuing from bodily orifices and food with faces). Coffee + bad art + high exposure + underlining how lame it is = MORE exposure.png. Yes the whole internet must know that somebody approves of coffee (and bagels, the world’s least exciting food after wheatabix). Rather than stand up to their expensive addiction or peacefully coexist with it they gleefully pay homage to it. It’s the exact same way cigarettes were treated in the 1950s. Except cigarettes are only expensive now because of unfair taxes on them; coffee is obscenely overpriced just because the people who sell it feel like obscenely overpricing it. Maybe 20 years from now there will be anti-coffee campaigns, taxes and lawsuits and trendly sorts will have a replacement religion based around waiting in line every singular day-length-period to pay to have themselves punched in the stomach while experts assure everyone there are no longterm health detriments to doing that. I eat ice cream because I like the way it tastes, but I’m not nearly proud of myself for doing so.

Have you heard? I quit.
5-30
If you’re too late to be fashionably quirky, you can always get by on pointlessly disgusting (but don’t forget the teeth). An entire generation of animators who watched Ren and Stimpy and never found a fault in it have proven that.
At this point I considered that it might be necessary for me to disable the radar entirely. Tumblr provides no means to do that, but browser extensions have been designed to do the deed. I never installed one because I also considered that I would probably write something like this and might want a better horror selection at such a time. I hate/appreciate me. Having fulfilled that, I have today concealed the thing. I am a questionable entity.

6-7
What the orp even IS this thing? I had to look at the large size version to figure that out, and I still couldn’t tell. Is it cells under a microscope? Is it a geographical map with the color balance altered? Is it a dirty kitchen floor? Is it a spoiled wheatabix? What I do know is that it looks like nothing I want to see, and digging and doing research to find out what it IS wouldn’t change that. However I suspect if I went outside and dug I’d eventually find something this reminded me of.

7-6-2012
I see this same artist or somebody utterly indistinguishable far too often. The same hemispheric line mouths with the same large dot eyes directly at the ends, the same parallel, turned-on-the-side feet that would be incapable of bearing weight. If you see a piece of food or a popular electronic trinket with limbs and a face it’ll probably be one of these, especially if it’s printed on a shirt. And fine, one person can have a style. But copying it bothers me. I consider art “better” during the ages of guilds and mass apprenticeship because people who could copy but not create had a greater standard to silently adhere to. Unfortuantely all they were allowed to paint were Jesus and hills. Now people are free to draw any sort of things, such as bands they’ve been ordered their whole lives to think are great. Or at least as long as their recent marketing surge has persisted. Do you remember what a huge deal it was when the Beatles songs were at last at first available on utines? Even though Beetols have had every single album of theirs available at every single record store since they existed? And that even stuff that they didn’t finish or remember they’d made was just as hard to not find? Well I hope not; I’ve currently forgotten if I put that complaint in an entry already and I’d hate you to know I was repeating myself.

When did people get the idea that it was alright to draw feet like that? 1493bc in Thutmose’s tomb? This is the “I’m about to fall over and twist my ankle” pose. Hopefully those little saran wrap box toes don’t brush up against any flesh in the process.
In fairness to the radar, somebody reblogged this at me, after several thousand other people expressed, I’ll assume, approval. I reduced the size for the sake of consistency and a misguided belief that nobody has a problem with me copying their pictures if I keep them tiny, but I should make clear that for every basic large natural detail that mystified the artist there is a tiny fully rendered round tooth protruding from the mouth (and then a strip of three stuck together). These people love to draw teeth. I had to stop looking at my queue entirely because even people I liked invariably liked stuff I hated enough to tell everybody about it with such regularity that I could no longer look at my flow of updates at all without getting so mad that I wrote a brooding paragraph about it each and every time. This wasn’t even one of those things, and look at what a state I’ve entered over it.

8-14
Ah great, back to getting mad at people I have no tangential relationship to. Is there a law against being able to draw and getting on here? I figured out from the comments that one or both of these floating torsos is from a television show. I couldn’t tell what and didn’t care to remember. The drawing is still not a thing of such magnificence to be broadcast all across the land. You don’t need to upload everything you thoughtlessly doodled on an envelope during a telephone conversation. The second one at least shows an attempt to be done better, but it comes across as creepy because there’s so much no detail and suddenly heavy cheek lines, a bloody-lipped semi smile and eyes that don’t appear to be facing any direction. I suppose it’s progress that I have a clue where to start complaining, rather than being baffled into irrelevance..

9-yesterday
I dare you to put a picture by somebody who can draw on there. Although now that I have turned the thing off I’ll never know if my dare is received, and thus it may be. I am selfless and beneficial to society. And so tonight I will sleep and not worry what innocent person I’ve needlessly wronged by complaining about what they made and exhibited for free and never asked to have shoved in my business.

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Friday the 28 – Saturday the 29 interval: Good news! I have a word heap that will be ready to display in the morning, which needs merely to be proofread with a mind clear enough to see errors but not enough to know better. The bad news is that I was kidding about that being good news.

I had attached above a previous entry but it was a totally different topic so I suppose it’s worth placing separately.

I overheard that Lance Armstrong is being “stripped” of his titles due to palling around with dopes, a truly revile-worthy act. If you want to punish him, let Lance Armstrong keep his titles but strip him of the name “Lance Armstrong” that is synonymous with the sport moreso than his trophy collection or whatever he won apart from the money that is not also being stripped of him. Maybe we should just strip him in general, in public, wherever he goes. The anti-dope authority could have operatives that follow him around in disguise and yank his clothes off at the worst moments. I also heard that he was “banned from cycling for life.” Which is a good idea considering that he’s retired or reached the point where he threatens to do so every year. I noticed he wasn’t banned from competitive cycling; it sounded like all cycling. He can’t keep a bicycle at his house. He can’t have a tricycle, either. Or a washing machine, because those run in cycles. We’ll have to confiscate his encyclopedias, too. Ransack his house, find that Grolier cd which came with the $3000 basic desktop computer he bought in 1996 after winning the Tour Duhfrontz the first time. We’re finally gonna GET this guy for making Americans give a flopping fish about professional bicycle races. As much as you Europeans hate having an American win it, think about how THEY feel. Armstrong was probably ordered by the US government to use “performance enhance”rs just so that would make him sound tough when the story came out since that’s what American tough guys do.

Mr. Chu, when I posted this initially, spoke up to the effect that just about everybody involved is probably putting SOMETHING inside themselves that they are not meant to, and Mr. Armstrong was targeted because he was the winner, and the important thing in all this is that it generates garbage publicity, which benefits everybody involved, Lance included, probably, I inferred, and the collective societal elite get to continue their prolonged respirator-assisted laugh on the rest of us. And then I said something like “I am definitely of the belief that there’s little difference between the “illegal” substances and those $200 jars of dust that somehow fill racks and racks of shelves in different varieties at “nutrition” stores. They are legal primarily because they aren’t illegal yet.” In fact that’s exactly what I said. I have a good memory of what I selected and pressed ctrl+c over.

I will have something nice next week. Comparatively.

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Bimshwel: five years of ehhh, three years of ah? and two years of oh.

Just think, in ten years bimshwel has gone from an irregularly updated personal weblog angry about stuff that doesn’t matter, maybe a little obsessed with old video games, written by an unemployed student with delusions of being a successful cartoonist and read by a few people. It all goes to show that if you work hard on something you love and never give up, you too can alienate the people around you.

I had absolutely nothing planned for this occasion apart from that sentence. I have been overwhelmed with deadlines for arbitrary tasks and only just realized “today,” Friday, gah, here is another one, and my own fleeping fault, this time. I knew this was coming. I had ten years to prepare. But there is nothing.
It has been my experience that when somebody tells me to give them something two weeks from now, at the end of two weeks they may remark “you had two weeks to do this!” More likely I had a few isolated hours across two weeks, during which I was incapable of coherent thought. And so, with all my deadlines recently, not one’s task was completed to my satisfaction. I am both difficult to satisfy and lacking in the skill to produce satisfaction. However, those also were externally assigned tasks that were not of personal importance to me. The things I make that matter to me, the ones I have tended to tell myself “no one else cares about,” that I do without deadlines turn out the best. They also get shoved aside when I do the bidding of others. So ducks to your birth-date, bimshwel. I shall speak of it when I deem prudent and some day when you’re older you’ll know I was right. Now get back in your room and play the piano! I want to hear those scales! Now! Stop crying! I didn’t raise no sissy website!

Lizard? I HAVE NO LIZARD.

I’ll see to it that nobody else has one either, if you keep that up.

Five years ago I appear to have questioned that I could still possibly be doing this five years from then. I wonder if I sincerely believed that I would not. Around that time I had only recently entered into online art-sites and displaying my pictures on them. I did not mention it here because I was ashamed that I had, at last, publicly become involved, even though I had been browsing the things for a few years. So when I did post my own nonsense I did it under names that I thought didn’t sounded like I came up with them because I didn’t want anybody from here to find me there. Now I have links to the things on the side of this page. It seems that no matter how ashamed I become of what I do, I follow it up with something else that makes it seem forgivable by comparison. I suppose I’ll start linking to that without even thinking to comment in another year or so.

I mentioned new websites that quickly got more popular than my old website. I reckon few of them are still updated, if they even exist. So I win. Nothing. Now I have the same gripe about the relative fame of users on the dumb art sites. Someday I will win nothing on them as well, merely by being so socially immobile that I linger long after most people stop caring.

Look there, 900! That’s a lot! Especially for me! I should be overcome with emotion at the approval. This proves that people like what I do. However, there are also 30 different oafs in the same vicinity who have drawn the exact same dog-thing over and over again for years with minimal creative ambition who easily have twice the approval. Three times as much if it’s a dog-thing from a bad video game or hideous cartoon and multiply either by 1.8 if the dog thing is a dragon thing. I have checked and verified these figures. It means nothing.
Not everybody really wants to be creative, anyhow; they just do it for fun. Fine for them, rageful for somebody who sincerely tries.
Half of this 900 lot probably don’t even go to the website anymore… which helps me in my quest for victorious nothingness but also implies that they are better than you (you being me), for their having left first, the scamps. A third of the remnant are ready to drop you at any moment, and eagerly anticipate a reason. Or perhaps they want you to watch their page. Not you specifically, but anybody at all who will increase their always-visible point total. Perhaps it even happened out of pity. Or maybe they like your drawings but find you despicable. Or perhaps just like the last thing you put up, or someone who means more to them than you mentioned you. It seems fashionable, for the moment, to acknowledge you, but by and large you are of negligible importance. It is necessary to build absurdly large support networks because the actual units of support have so very little meaning. Anybody can suddenly hate you at any moment And by beanbags I’ve done it myself. The personal weblogs can no longer be imagined by me to threaten me, but fleeting, fickle nothingness yet thrives. Those who are truly dedicated to the site or their cliquey support networks don’t have any more use for me than I for them. But I like it better than twitter. I have no hope in that nothingness. 300 or so who potentially might care is pretty good, even in a really dumb place. After all, they defeated the Persians and more importantly inspired a really lazy meme that prospered among the same sort of people.

Porridge, I spent three weeks writing some mopey introspective thing like that for a class that is now done. I don’t need to recreate it here. I may pull out some relevant bits and impose them on you later. I had to turn that in precisely when it was due. Bimshwel is never due. Bimshwel is not concerned that I acknowledged such a major anniversary a day late or that I talked about other websites than it the whole time. I broke its spirit years ago. It may have shamed itself into forgetting what the day was. You probably didn’t know either. I could say it is today, and nobody but me would know. I miss every birthday in my real family; quite finkly it would be rude of me to make an exception for this distasteful abomination.

I spend too much time thinking about nonsense. I am three years older than Napoleon and my realm is pitiful. But I maintain my composure because these are trifling issues. I don’t need to be the “best.” I have a narrow appeal, since I have such difficulty or unwillingness to latch on to other people’s gimmicks. I am not a winner. I am not good enough at anything that enough people do to have a contest over to even compete for the victory. I might have a chance of winning a contest whose goal was to be me, but if there were other people who could conceivably be me then there would be no point to it. I am as isolated by choice as necessity. And that is perfectly all right. The sooner I accept that the sooner I can enjoy my existence. The needless jealously and pointless aspiring to meaningless smalltime niche digital fame cease today!

ARRRGH I’LL GET YOU, YOU INTOLERABLE GINGERBREAD MANNEQUIN! YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME JUST BECAUSE YOU DRAW POKEMON AND HOMESTUCKS AND CLEOPATRA 2525! I’LL BEAT YOU I’LL SHOW YOU! I’LL LICK THE WHOLE KABOODLE USING JUST MY NOODLE! MY ORIGINAL DERIVATIVE CHARACTERS ARE (C) ME!!! I SHALL AVENGE THE MARSHMALLOW PEEPS SLAIN TO MAKE YOUR CLOTHING! Come to me, winged cronies! I have been slighted! Do my bidding and I’ll give you *hugs* with lots of extra asterisks on the sides! Otherwise I’ll know who my REAL friends are! I need to clean out my watch list soon HINT HINT

My hubris shall be my downfall.

“Pandora.” Like I am meant to think it’s forbidden knowledge that I can’t handle that’s going to rock my world literally. In truth it’s the same annoying rubbish I haven’t wanted to handle for half my life.

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Pandora the Internet Radio is a website that finds and plays music for you based on what it perceives your interests to be.
Two years ago somebody other than myself introduced me to it and I promptly untroduced myself. While it was going on I typed a bunch of text scraps and then didn’t have the time or inclination to sort them out. I still don’t but now I have other things to do that are even less interesting. The fellow insisted Pandora was the most significant scientific achievement since the ninja turtles discovered the secret of the ooze but I clearly lacked security clearance.

Pandora Radio has no idea how quickly it won my trust by pulling up facebook information for me without asking me if I had a page there, much less waiting for me to tell it which was mine, and then somehow using this as an excuse to attack me with some whiny band that it insisted was similar to a band that I primarily “like” the page of because someone I know is in it. They are a GOOD band but I got lucky and am not looking for other “good bands.” You might say that’s the whole point of Pandora but I was holding out hope that I could locate some decent musicians who weren’t necessarily bandy.
You can turn off the facebook connection but you can’t stop it from happening the first time and you can’t have a picture on your page any other way. It has nothing to do with music but I enjoy being able to customize hostile foreign netscapes with familiar, condemnable imps.

You know what I say all the time: “I really want to listen to something with minor key tonality.” In fact everybody knows that. It’s a matter of public record. It has to be, because otherwise, that this thing knows is a tremendous breach of decency and undeniable evidence of absolutely sinister corporate collusion which way too many people that I know personally are apparently, contently, going along with.
The blurb there is consistent with my past experience that the smarter somebody tries to sound talking about music, the dumber the world gets. You can speak of being experts and know the difference between keys and time signatures but you can’t do anything to make your opinion of music any more valid than anyone else’s. My thoughts on Suprematist art didn’t change when I learned what its name was or what it was trying to accomplish (although recreating it in 3d was a good idea) and I like Gustav Klimt when he paints things that aren’t filled with shapes that resemble eyes, but I couldn’t tell somebody they were wrong to like eye shapes based on their not knowing what gesso was unless I was an irredeemable scumbag. Then, perhaps, I would have use for someone to sweetly redeem me. However, if I typed “High Flight Society” into Pandora it would just play a song by These Green Eyes that had nothing in common with it and I would go unredeemed, or possibly redempt in a manner that pertained to a different category of taste reception and THEN by gorby where would I be?

So after shunning facebook I was advised to say what I personally thought I liked, if I’m so smart.

I grant that these are hokey choices. Obviously Prophet Fukami wouldn’t be in there so I didn’t try that. Konami and Falcom put out most of the arranged/performed video game music albums that I am aware of so they seemed like the ones to start with. My taste in music is not logical and I am entitled to privately prefer hokey selections.

Yet when prompted to supply an artist that I already liked, I was turned down several times before Pandory gave up Yoko Shimomura, who gets to be in there for being one of precious few composers I like to have worked recently. Apparently she scored Kingdom Hearts, the video game, which I assume has nice enough music but unfortunately its unfortunate fan base puts the music in the “children’s” category which by the music robot’s reckoning makes it similar to The Wiggles as well as non-wiggles trying to sound wiggly, never at all mind that Yoko Shimomura is Japanese, working in video games and without using any words. Surely the game HAS an annoying word song in it somewhere to give it mass wimply appeal, but the first thing that came up was nice enough.

Afterward a half-Raffi said the same stuff about the jungle over and over again, and then Einstein played knick knack on people’s thumbs in a gesture I’m sure he was just as proud of afterward as atomic bombs. I praise children’s music the genre for daring to have songs that aren’t about the pursuit of sex (though doubtlessly if you put “he played knick-knack” in absolutely any other context somebody would think it was a hilarious masturbaty euphemism and giggle accordingly) but gosh they’re repetitive. Next there we went “loopty loo” and it was actually less musically complex than the Barney version. And then I regretted thinking that because an actual Barney song came on.

When an audio sequence comes through pandora you can indicate if you approve of it or if you don’t, or nothing at all, but like hulu’s ad disliking system, it likes to eventually return to the first thing you disliked, so confident in its own infallibility as to assume nobody would ever dislike everything it came up with unless the person was just testing the system to see what would happen and therefore not worth working to accommodate.

except for that one time I broke hulu by hating all its ads and it tried shill at me for 23 Spanish shows all at once. In frap every ad is not relevant to me because I am off the market for new television. I have two shows that I am compulsively bound to and when one of us gives up I hope it will all be over. Thankfully I don’t need to have the same policy for music because one song rarely lasts twenty-one minutes and I can listen to it without halting every aspect of my already not-very-exciting life.

And so with that in mind Pandorcus saw fit to give me a second barney song

Pandora suspected I might dispute the reasoning behind this decision and then would not allow me to leave until I thoroughly understood its lecture. it can tell me WHY it chose a song, — in fact, it likes nothing better– but I cannot tell it WHY it’s wrong or that the criteria it’s using is wrong.

What the peep is a “kid friendly vibe?” Music is not inherently malicious unless it’s created deliberately to be annoying, loud or dissonant. There are people who like listening to staticy voices and modulating frequency noises instead of conventional music, and that might not even be “unfriendly” if enough people like it that it feels better about itself. As for vibe, that means “vibration,” and a thing which creates vibrations is a vibrator, which is usually not sold to children at all. I confess I am curious how and/or why Pando has gotten around this but I’m not sure I could handle the information. I barely recovered from the knick-knack-knickerbock interlude.

The only thing that children like better than Home Depot is Sacha Baron Cohen. Naked hairy man fights also translate surprisingly well into audio form, provided you double the pitch first.
I was in a laundromat when I finally came back to this, april 20, 2012, and a flubbing home depot ad came over the radio, immediately after another ad warning me that Tyler Perry’s Madea was coming LIVE to some local venue whose name I have lamentably forgotten.

They also love free business cards.
So now every crummy top-10 fm pepsi-selling hit is also inherently identical to all video game music if it’s been on a kidz bop album.
The kidz boppiting rapper actually said “yee auhhhh” at the start of whatever that was. I imagine the professional rappists who yee auhhh are merely preparing their voices before they’re actually supposed to say stuff and whoever is supposed to edit that out never bothers to. However, this kid is saying “yee auhhhh” because he thinks it sounded good in the original and ought to be imitated. It didn’t and shouldn’t!

Through consistently disapproving of everything I eventually caused Pandy to only play minimalist xylophonic music, with no bass, harmony or percussion, and I need more than that. The second one that came up was a wordless cover of an aerosmith song. See, that’s the wrong kind of thinking. People who feel overwhelmed by voices in their lives shouldn’t have to piggy on the backs of atrocious acts like that to gain acceptance. I am not strictly avoiding words, anyhow. I am avoiding music I don’t like. As glad as I am to not hear Steven Tyler, that’s not because his presence makes the work too complex for me to comprehend.

Admidst all this Pandora kept going on and on about the music genome project like it was diplomatic immunity. It means to say oh gee sorry dude but the genome said you’d like this, so… so? Finish your sentence! I don’t excuse you because you trail off. I’m ill of you people. It’s just… I JUST. You just what? Started talking and then stopped? I don’t even… You do it all the time! And you don’t get to call me dude! Only Hulk Hogan may call me dude and he only did it once. You know why your music genome project is flawed? Clearly no, so I have to tell you: Because music doesn’t have a “genome.” There is nothing genetic about it. These people just can’t think far enough to invent a name that’s not imitating something else they heard about. There was a human genome project and one of these forklogans thought “hey let’s change the word ‘human’ to ‘music’ and then stop there.” Even the “radio” suffixed to the website’s name and end of any artist for which similar junk is sought is technologically inaccurate and silly and I want to throw pudding at it so its silliness is more evident to others.

According to the website,
On January 6, 2000 a group of musicians and music-loving technologists came together with the idea of creating the most comprehensive analysis of music ever. but does not say who these are nor what reason exists to believe that them together comprise every possible musical preference. What ignorant self-satisfied reprobate could possibly…

No actually I don’t want to know. I’m glad they don’t tell me!

NO NO NO YOU DON’T GET TO DO THAT! I DENIED YOU YOUR PROMPT! GET GONE!
This is an even lazier running gag than

no elpse today.

we endeavor to include all the great new stuff coming out of studios, clubs and garages around the world.
More stupid stereotypes that appeal to corny people. How much great stuff ever came out of a garage, and how much does these days? The only people I knew who had garage bands were the children of rich people in a couple of tv shows I probably hated twenty years ago.
I don’t even know anybody who has a garage now. I also dispute the use of “new” here. There is heaps of good, old music unaccounted for. It is said by other people who think they’re clever but are actually misquoting that those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. However, those who are blissfully unaware of the past are doomed instead to repeat the present in perpetuity and while less dangerous I want this sentence to end.

We require your gender information to help our targeted advertising be just as wrong about you as our music selections
Also, people pay to use this.

I really shouldn’t have, but I considered that maybe perhaps the website would have improved its method in two years, so I had it running while I rewrote and formatted that up there. I shouldn’t have because that guaranteed I would have more griping to do before I could leave.

Nobuo Uematsu, another video game person, did have a listing, but he’s well known (I swear) and I don’t necessarily want stuff similar to the heavy orchestral arrangements he’s apparently well known for (or that comprise the one official released album he made that is in Pandora’s box), much less what this kooky kontraption mechanically muses and daftly decrees is similar. We need to differentiate between opposing cornies. This got me more serviceable results than Yoko Shimomura but none of the synthesizery stuff that comprises a majority of what made me like Uematsy and learn his name to begin with.

I said it was a functional composition, not that I ever wanted to hear it again. Most of what came through this was really dreary. No songs about the noises cows make but I may just be difficult to please. I don’t want items that I already have but I don’t want stuff that annoys me either.

I tried entering the name of Falco, an admitted vocalist, and was presented with some unremarkable 80s-sounding tunes, like Enjoy the Silence, better known as the song about the king wandering through the wilderness. When I just hear the song I don’t have any proof that a king is singing it because he neglects to say that he’s a king (never even mind whether he can sing) or make any royal decrees and it becomes a lot less interesting, aside from the outlandish hypocrisy of this chap ordering me to enjoy the silence after he’s been moaning about words doing harm in his little world for three minutes. By the time he shuts up another song is ready to start. Dumb king. If I am going to settle for unremarkability I need to have more control over it than this. I remember the first time I heard the song on an actual radio system, rather than with the music video, and being less interested without the king. Now that I have re-examined the video even that is rather dull. He should have a more substantial beard.

Ah, given that these images are two years old, just today I went back and typed the name again. Last time they said they’d check it out. They never did! Or they did but they had returned it already before I came back.

“Genre stations.” I hate genres. When somebody asks me “what kind” of music I listen to, I hope that they do not specify “willingly” because I have no answer. I don’t like music by its kind. I like it because it has interesting tunes and minimally oppressive voices, if any. When I tell people I like video game music they immediately change the subject if they don’t give up right there. I suspect they interpret it to mean I have unsophisticated tastes and that I merely haven’t been “exposed” to good or “real” music that by some chance happens to be exactly what they listen to, which by another chance happens to be exactly what I’m deliberately avoiding because I know I hate it. I realize that now. During my pandora trial I still maintained hope that there was a possibility of me being able to enjoy anything but silence when in the company of others (including kings who advocate the opposite). And in truth that even is not so very bad. I wish I could go shopping without Jason Mraz fedora-ing up my earlobes or share a car with someone who was actually open to having a conversation. We just need obnoxious voicy noise that we can’t respond to coming at us at all times because otherwise we risk having a thought. I see people sitling motionless in waiting rooms, on benches, on buses, going for leisurely walks, or simply standing around, inside or out[side], always with their goldfarbed earphones in and activated loud enough that I can discern the noise’s nature. We are terrified of the absence of noise. I should feel fortunate that I desire so little of it.

In closing, I cannot be pleased and it is futile to try.

No actually I like some musical theatre and I already feel boring.

Historically this has been the best ending I have been capable of writing.

I intend to release a statement regarding armor on Friday.

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I inadvertently entered a public restroom of type apart from what I had been traditionally instructed to enter. As the room was lacking for other patrons my first visual cue was the character of the graffiti.

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I am surprised to realize that I cannot recall the theme song for Darkwing Duck, but I am not rushing to remedy this.

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I can say already I probably won’t have something prepared for April 8!

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Two hours later it seems kind of derivative

Electronic Banking Monopoly. Hey let us take a really boring game and remove the most fun element from it: brightly colored, utterly unrealistic paper money in high denonominations. Ordinarily I’d want only 500 dollar bills, stacks of them, but in Monopoly the fifty has a more interesting color and so I don’t mind keeping those around. Otherwise I don’t enjoy Monopoly a great deal; it goes on for far too long and I’ve never seen a game end but out of apathy. Often time itself is the one who gives up. I hate most board/card games because they tend to be more chance than skill, if they aren’t chance exclusively, and if I’m playing one that means other people also are and they’re probably enjoying it and that means they’ll keep right on playing it. I can’t stand seeing people enjoy stuff that I hate. I like Scattergories because nobody else does and so I never play it and so I don’t discover anything that makes me realize I hate it.

The valet siblings could at least do the cards or the calculator up in a similarly impractical fashion to the money. What’s the calculator even for? When I use my debit card I expect someone else to figure out what I owe so I can look at my bank statement three months later and wonder when Comcast increased my monthly internet charge by twenty dollars or what I bought from “S-CONN-ST-U-BKS NEW HAVEN” that cost $109. There is uninvestigated potential to distract from the classy deficit with fraud and identity theiving shenanigans.

Much, if not all, of Monopoly’s enduring charm lies in its aesthetic, tactile appeals and how antiquated it is. Sure I’ll represent myself with a tiny metal thimble. I don’t know what a thimble is for; I believed it was a trash can for long enough, even though that concept of a trash can was also antiquated and based on outdated cartoons I’d seen and managed to not decry the lack of in-touch pandering within. Monopoly has absolutely no contemporary social relevance. Yet it has survived despite that. Its mascot is a sphere-headed 19th century mustachioed man wearing a top hat and a bowtie.

That alone proves he uh gosh I don’t even remember.

He would have no use for a credit card. Money to him is as much a financial asset as piece of physical property to act as a visual aid in his mocking of the down-trodden. His greatest joy in life is lighting hundred dollar bills with his cigar while posing in front of orphanages getting bulldozed to make way for enormous green plastic monoliths. He didn’t accumulate that much money to let someone else put it into THEIR enormous hilltop vault with a gold dollar sign on it that his only assurance at the existence of requires him to log into a website whose most intimidating security measure is refusing to cache his username.

I assume the robot edition will not be having any house rules regarding what the “free parking” space does. I also assume that having a computer screen 64% wider than when I started with the website has in the past 2.5 years made me feel like the same amount of text is less and that’s why I added another sentence here.

As every gimmick version of monopoly has a simpsons edition it is only fair that every simpsons gimmick has its own edition of monopoly.

Solly Humphrey the Humping Dog, KISSOPOLY still wins the absolutely shouldn’t exist contest. FRIENDS TRIVIA is disqualified on the grounds that I can’t tell what it is by my shoddy picture-taking. But there on the left, JOHN DEERE MONOPOLY! If there’s a perfect metaphor for the contemporary successful American, it’s John Deere Monopoly. Going completely out of your way to prove you love real man’s work and values and bootstraps while you invest in property, policies, and ways of life that have in mind absolutely none of the best interests of the people who actually do that work.

Obviously the original least-altered Monopolite is still sold and these are not intended to replace it, and any business has an obligation to make useless derivations of their popular properties forever until those stop selling, but I wish they didn’t.

Monopoly the board game the video game has itself seen a few hundred incarnations since it started. What could possibly be in Monopoly3 that requires so much hard drive space? Not “new stuff,” clearly. Since the video game version never had rainbow money to begin with, Monopoly log₃ can’t even remove that and call it a feature. And I saved that image in 2004 so they’re probably up to Monpoly log₁₂ by now, which is 3 gigabytes in size, justified by the inclusion of technology which requires you to be connected to the internet at all times to reprove you didn’t steal Monopoly, the game of business ethics violations every day and also requires that you install Quicktime for some reason. That is a separate download. A few years ago my family rented a house (I acknowledge the seeming irony of including this in an essayoid with so many jipes at oafs with too much money; trust me that we absolutely couldn’t afford to do that) and the owners had a Playstation but the only games were generic racing and Barbie titles, plus Monopoly the game, because they bring their kids up RIGHT. This wasn’t even the same house that had the full run of Down East Magazine stored in the basement.

Lamentably I no longer have the pictures which document this because I was storing them at that point on a computer whom my brother challenged for unrelated reasons to a series of physical contests in which it was not victorious, so you’ll just have to imagine the excitement. I’m left to assume the owners were the most boring people in the world or they merely hid any game that they thought someone might want to steal.

Surprisingly the maccident wasn’t because the full size edition of this was sequestered within it, either.

You fool! That’s what they would want you to think if they were clever enough to think about things!

If we exclude dopes (always a sound decision), the foremost thing dumber than playing computer monopoly off of a cd at someone else’s house is paying monthly dollars to play it on my own television with a tv controller. I couldn’t justify a day of monopoly, much less a series of months. Who keeps buying this game?

I really ought to learn to stop asking rhetorical questions around these parts.

Tuesday or thereabouts:
I just spent three-and-a-half days doing things I didn’t have time to do. Which is nothing new but usually I don’t not-do things all at once like that.

Oh!

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

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Sleep well, Canada: The Unknown chicken is defending your rights

I took this picture intending to say something which I now do not recall. I thought I should write it down but I believed as soon as I looked upon the thing I would remember. However, Dr. Oz is so unpleasant that my memory is impaired by the onset of inspiration as to how he is awful. Dr. Oz is as creepy as his name. He has no depth. He looks like an Edouard Manet painting. His head looks like a cheese sculpture. He looks like a puppet from Crank Yankers. He looks like Pat Sajak as a Ken doll. I don’t even know what California pseudoscientific field he’s associated with, just that I really do not trust him at all.
Well according to the internet, the only person who tells me things, unlike the last dork who got a television show exclusively through Oprah Winfrey being amused by his existence, Oz here is an actual doctor: a heart surgeon, which is potentially good for him, as far as my baseless assumptions amounting to nothing go. However, that means that I have to add a disclaimer admitting that my assumptions are baseless beyond him resembling a Nintendo 64 character. How is that fair?

In related news I don’t trust John Travolta, either.
Now, sometimes, people tell me this bloat is a Scientomologist, like that’s a crime, and for all I know it is or ought to be, but at least nobody’s set off a car bomb in the name of Xenu yet.

Of course Arnold Schwarzenegger et everybody was on totally legal steroids back in the 1960s so it hardly strikes me as valid journalism, much less responsible journalism to use this guy as some sort of idealized human being whose condition is attainable through any reasonable means or practical if it is. He says the steroids were strictly for “muscle maintenance” but great gimpity we just went over something like this. Let’s imagine this happened through totally natural means: I’ll still think it’s horrifying.

Not that this guy is any better / thoroughly unroided. AWWWWWWWWWWW BANNNNNNNNNNNNNNN! At least Schwarzy seems to enjoy his life. This oaf looks miserable.
Another of my assumptions is that the not-yet-illegal jugs of megadust they’re pushing now aren’t a great improvement, safety-wise, over what this guy’s actually on, so they’re not even going to get you looking like this before you put yourself in a hospital with them. How is that fair?

And then I have a picture of my brother sending a text message while on a stretcher (following an entirely un-steroidy product-related issue) but the ambulance driver told me the HIPAA people can sue me for that because it violates some patient privacy business regardless of my relationship to the subject. They probably won’t but assuming they try I want to have a clear schedule when their representative posts goofy comments on this entry about how I’m not allowed to make fun of people who send me threats in the mail. Honestly, these have been waiting for three months. I can’t stand it.

Of course Arnold Schwarzenborzen also likes to sue people who talk trash about his steroid use, but I only implied that you were going into the hospital and in any event that’s probably not the worst thing I’ve ever said about him. No, that would be when I agreed with the decision to dub over his voice in Hercules in New York. Of course, I think his voice should have been dubbed by Arnold Stang so that he could talk to himself for most of the movie, but that’s likely because I have problems. Someday I will admit that I regret this. Until then it’s unofficial.

And some other day an anonymous wikipedia contributor will admit to regretting implying Arnold probably regrets more of his movies and promptly regret admitting this regret.

No, I don’t hate Shwarzenfruben. I like that scene in Total Recall where he wears a turban. Also, he stood up to the Undertaker.

June 17, threethousandnineteenthirtyfour:

Earth’s greatest hero, captivity enthusiast, thrice consecutively voted “Most likely to be stripped of clothing and sent to The Arena” and all-around white guy Flash Gordon is defeated by a backwards S (Roneldo’s whereabouts unknown). A truce was called when both sides realized they despised trousers. The kneeling fellow in the second frame is actually being executed for the sake of peace.

Annnnnnnnnnd evidently I have things to do.

I didn’t think all the words in this were boring enough so I also included numerous pictures of words.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

If there’s sexism at the Daily Show, most of it’s on the website and written by people who aren’t actually employed by it. Cartoon sleaziness is still the first instinct for men on the internet.

I first heard of these startling accusations when Stephen Colbert mentioned on his show that I “probably already heard.” So maybe you have, also and I needn’t mention it. I wish you’d told me that before I mentioned it. The article accuses the show of discrimination for hiring a lady named Olivia Munn who didn’t come across while on the air as terribly humorous to the writer so there must be some deeper motive. Another moderately recent addition Josh Gad was also less than impressive to complainy viewers despite being a man and fat. I suspect there the explanation is that the show merely deliberately auditioned and hired a non-funny person just to annoy us. I don’t see how this is a huge problem; I remember when Stacey Grenrock joined the show. Because I’m really really old. People hated the first 20 or so reports she did. By the last two, though, she seemed to be getting it.

It ultimately didn’t make a difference. Don’t worry, these both go out of their way to mention that Samantha Bee is less visually appealing to them, and she wasn’t even pregnant then!

We’re getting off-topic, though, I think. From the thing I linked at:

I can’t take seriously any quest for decency or social equality which makes use of the terminology “but-thurt.” I’d rather not attempt to track down its etymology by typing it [anywhere] but at worst it’s mildly anti-gay and at best I just think it’s ugly. I also can’t seriously take the phrase “we geeks,” and while that might be construed as some sort of discrimination on my own part, I am at least aware of this and not lazily tossing around language I picked up on the 4^thchan and calling myself a “big think”er.

Munn, whom I had not heard of, was apparently famous despite my not having heard of her on the Cops Channel for being the sort of person who is hired by the Cops Channel, prior to being on the Jeff Dunham Channel. While there definitely continues to be huge potential for any non-male whom pictures exist of (or even somebody of ambiguous gender who merely draws pictures of ladies) to develop a fanbase merely by not being repulsed by the sleazy men who compose a majority of vocal audiences, my first thoughts were of these very oafs themselves. The article laments Munn’s lack of legitimate comedic ability but I don’t reckon most of the viewers have noticed.

This one isn’t any worse than what other late night hosts do in the actual presence of ladies, but I don’t like it when they do that either.

To be fair, the vague, John-Doey default avatars make just about anything seem unsettling. Why is this presumed to be better than no avatar at all?

The Facebook icon explains this, though it stops short of excusing anything.

Whoa there Nunly. There’s only room for one verbose idiot on this page and unfortunately for you it’s the one who controls the crop tool. What’s odd is that Scott here seems to agree with the linked article despite entirely missing its point.

Well I’m glad you said it nicely. Cacofraginstaple, Confederated Creeps of the Covered Keyboard, is it truly so hard for you to locate video of skinny ladies accompanied by open comment fields online? I assure you you’ll find most of them just as unfunny.

Well that’s certainly-

Oh how about th-

This site entry has to end now.

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Hey That Daily Show is back from a two week hiatus! And with it a fresh shipment of message board creepism arrives! This is actually pretty nasty, but so is the entry I’m appending this to.

Is it “irony?” Do I care?

Additionally, apparently this is the original article that was controversial. In that case I have no idea why I came across that other one and thought it was what I thought it was –this is even linked from within the other– but apart from that I don’t think anything I said before is less valid than it was, presuming any of that was valid. I wrote it all but didn’t feel like reading it.
It is somewhat less about Olivia Munn and even mentions Miriam Tolan, who was last seen apologizing for not being on the show and then never was again but supposedly married Frankenstein at some point.

Wednesday: I forgot this was here again.

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Hey ham, this here is the first part of the First Beet of the Year the flash cartoon. It’s better than my other two flashy attempts but I suspect the more I say about it the less impressive it will seem.

I didn’t make one of those “loading” timers because I forgot to and I’m tired of this thing, and most people have broadband internet these days, I’m told, anyhow. If you don’t, I suppose you should wait a minute or so after pressing the link it before starting it.

In four years I haven’t been able to improve the singing too much, sadly. Everyone in the cast should be fired. And then I realized that they were all me and that I’d still need one around to upload the thing, and if I could fire them that would mean they were employed and I’d probably need to pay them.

The reference to “bimshwel.com” may seem totally unnecessary, given that I’m there now posting this and that there is not another similar thing at this location which an interested party could look up, but you know what, you’re no fun. I long ago had delusions of viral supremacy, for which such identifiers would be helpful, but now I’m merely so old that think I might forget my own email address.

I can’t even make the link work, since, to its credit I suppose, the most recent Adope Flash players don’t allow url links in the things unless the user specifically allows them.

However, it informs user of this in such a sinister way that anyone would think I’d embedded plague in the bimpy thing somehow and I don’t need people thinking I did that any more than they themselves require plague. Also, clicking on “settings,” rather than opening up an actual “settings” menu, just sent me, ever the curious traveler, to the adobe website, which had even more broken flash junk on it that I would need to personally tell noscript, a totally different thing, not to block. And then I’d have to restart my internet machine, find the stupid video again, and then press the link in it again, which I can’t imagine a single person doing. Even less than I can imagine somebody clicking on it the first time. Boy, howdy.

How are you today?

You agree with me that 1 am is way too late for the idiots a block over from me to be blasting corny music all over the place, don’t you?

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Dear loyal bimshwel customers: I’m deadHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH APRULFOOOOUHAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHG I’VE BEEN SHOT

HA HA NO I HAVEN’T!GOTCHA THAT TIME AYPRALLL FOOOOOOOOHHHHHHNOOOOO I’VE BEEN SHOT AGAIN!

NOPE NOT REALLY! HA HA HA HOOOGOSH DEAR FLOOPITY I’VE LAUGHED SO HARD I’VE CAUSED MYSELF MORTAL INJURY NO I HAVEN’T

HA HA HA HO NOW IS THE TIME WHEN I LAUGH NO IT ISN’t YES IT IS HA HA HA H

And now I am sad.
YES INDEEDNO NOT REALLY

 
 

I guarantee you this fat, blurry, needlessly animated-giffy baby is not dancing to nor in any way relevant to the news of your ad. In fact, now that I have saved it as a static png, the baby isn’t dancing at all.

Dancing is also the ultimate way to sell a service totally unrelated to dancing through a banner ad.

I’m only impressed when real people dance in unison, and even then it has to be a better dance than that. That is what I thought at first. But with persistence I was won over.

Next it was dorky rave kids wearing small shirts and big pants in an attempt to make their similarly big roller skate-boots seem normal. THAT really started to convince me. The best part about this dance was that it didn’t loop around at the end, but rather replayed itself in reverse. When I saw that I was SOLD.

The upper torsos of drunken businessmen miming climbing ladders always puts me in the mood to graduate online in 13 months.

These Santa Clauses, I am sad to say, make less sense. Not because they fail to represent a dancer-demographic I identify with, and not because they’re, you know, dancing for absolutely no reason, but because they aren’t animated! Even before I saved them as PNG they weren’t! The Santas, while not too busy to go back to Santa school, obviously, could not spare time to compile additional frames of needless movement. They just stood still in that position, bound by the erroneously layered gray shadows so cruelly shackled to their ankles. Although the leftmost Claus is NOT chained, he IS missing a hand, which may yet complicate matters. The fanciful font took offense at the effeminate hand wave the santas dismissed it with and sought to make an example of one of the bold upstarts.

My old friends! My old bad cgi, shiny clothes-bonded-to-skin dancing badly in defiance of relevance friends! How wonderful to see you again! This squatting trio has changed my mind! I no longer think I am too busy to go back to school! I merely think I have no reason to live, and thus should not bother!

Uh oh, now we’re really changing it up. Ipod punks dancing in a lava lamp square. But dancing was not good business! A short time ago it only took 13 months to get a degree, and now it takes 24. That’s almost two years! At this rate I’ll never get my unaccredited diploma-mill certification in time to pretend to be a doctor at my ten year high school reunion so nobody knows I’m a loser who clicks banner ads that promise shortcuts they can’t possibly deliver all day!

Look at this! I’m only 90% a winner now! I cannot justify the effort and dedication it would take to follow this link and attempt to collect my fictional prize money if I’m not absolutely assured that I have won prior to realizing I had not entered any competition that the ad banner would know about. All the same, it’s nice to see the animated gifists of america have finally upgraded to Windows XP now that Windows 7 has been released.

The problems don’t end there. During our splendid recession some of the irrelevant dancers were laid off and replaced with creepy, self-scratching cowboy sillhouettes. Wasn’t the entire point of the neighborhood watch program specifically to keep these guys out of town? Now they’re trying to shut me up about my auto insurance rates. “Think You Pay Too Much? I reckon You oughtta Think again, pardner. Yer a long way from Alabama. Mind if I use your shower?”

This was all your fault, Moms! Obama Asked you to Return to School and you did weird turning sit-ups instead. Your course of action is not scratching the proverbial cowboy silhouette.

I think there was a nicer way you could have said that.

I should make another site update soon. I can’t wait to see if I do! I am physically incapable of waiting for that. And so I will do something else. I can’t wait to find out what that is. And so I must do something else. This system could be a problem.

000000000000000000000000000000000000

Gouache is a sort of paint that I thought about recently. I misspelled its name in a google box, though. For that I was punished with a page from “urbandictionary.com” which I would rather have not glimpsed the excerpt from. Why don’t the stupid BING.com ads latch on to that? The people in those ads say stuff about raccoons and Venice that are interesting or at the least informative, not gross-sounding names for gross-sounding body parts which as far as I can tell and am grateful for nobody actually refers to in such a way. Oh!

Dearest Microsoft: Me making fun of google does not mean I’m looking for a replacement. You of all respectable businesses should realize and be grateful that I won’t be swayed by a flashy bit of dumbed down competition over a few moments of weakness. And isn’t it enough, besides, that I use your dopey hard drive index search in Windows?

I don’t want a “decision engine.” I make my own decisions. Like when I decided not to use BING oh ho ho. I’m too tired to make this interesting but I want to complain about it today. I also want a quesadilla.

ME ROBOT. ME GIVE LIGHT. CLOCK NOT GIVE LIGHT. ONLY ME GIVE LIGHT. I PROTECT YOU FROM BUY CLOCK.

I don’t know that I would want this lamp. It has an interesting look to it, but if I imagine that the light source itself is the head of some being, staring downward, constantly. I’ll always feel like it’s judging me. You do not control my life, lamp!

Its arms seem capable of grasping things, such as pencils and receipt size pieces of paper, which fully justifies giving it arms. Despite these astounding innovations, the makers of robot desk lamp wisely assumed that might not be enough for some people and that they would soon be awash in lawsuits if they did not point out that paper and pencils are not included.

HEY, I bought this because I needed a lamp and a pencil AND a receipt size piece of paper like the picture on the box but now I only have a lamp! What the gives!
Certainly, I reckon it can hold things besides pencils and small pieces of paper. I reckon it could also hold a crayon and an envelope if that was the sort of thing you were into. At least that is what I reckon. I reckon you did not reckon on my championship reckoning skills.

I also just noticed that the description on the back of the box refers to the lamp with masculine pronouns like “him” and “his.” That amuses me, and I see no value in griping about it.

HIM. THIS.

THEM HER THEM!

HER THEM THEM!!!

The Three Men and a Baby cast reunion held more surprises than anyone could have anticipated.

boffo | How to lose a guy in (5) days | !

This is no good. I need my Tonies FULL TIME. Is that really so much to ask? I hardly think I am guilty of glut-tony.

Where have you been, Tony? I needed you here yesterday! Having to ship all your body parts separately in a magical monochrome analog tv set is not an excuse! You could put wheels on that thing!

Maybe tell me less?

I praise your intention to amend your commend, Luckas. On a side note, that poem is just so great. Were you even aware that EVERY DAY there is a child went forth?
You know, just the other day I was asking: WAS there a child went forth? There was : )

I’m surprised the dope can simultaneously press shift and nine or semicolon in order to produce the complicated smiley face symbol. Who spelled out “a dope” and loaded up my comment form for it? It really makes little sense. Yet somehow it has less sense than that. Perhaps I am betrayed.

Historical note: Half & Half was a real television show that people watched and also a coffee flavoring. It may also be other things.

You can HAVE the dope! O cyborg of the phallic nose and steel mustache.

Alright, guy. I wasn’t doubting you. I think you’re being a tad oversensitive, sir.

boffo, Delaware | How to lose a guy in (9) days | !

I was going to write something today about how all cereal mascots appear to be screaming, but I made sure to check if anybody else had, first. As things do sometimes turn out, somebody has, and only a bit over a month ago. This is not surprising; surely the level of maniacalness (“mania” itself is not a maniacal enough word, I’m afraid) that led me to suddenly realize this would do the same thing to others. The fact that I don’t purchase these cereals and have less than scant desire to, yet still noticed the overpowering craziness of their superfluous, excessively-shaded representatives must be a sign of something that I would be failing in my duties to not attempt to draw yet more attention to, even if the observation is not totally original.

Oh, Captain! This time he’s selling a product so shoddily produced and stale that no one less than Superman can break it apart.
I say “this time,” for Captain Crunch’s mental slide is nothing new. I have been documenting it for years, and have sadly become accustomed to it. However, I still ought to have paid more attention to the effect he was having on his shelf/ship-mates.

“Wendell,” the Cinnamon Toast Crunch chef is so out of control that his picture on the box actually had to be reduced in size to keep it from giving people heart attacks. This is not surprising; his guilt over murdering the other two chefs in the early 1990s, dropping them into the swirl-mixer vat and subsequently feeding the evidence to America can only have grown since then. Unlike himself; he seems shorter and more deformed than ever. He’s actually glowing from the quantities of artificial joy he has to inject merely to keep from sobbing.

Yes, yes, certainly, with online vagrants’ tendency to talk about trash from two decades ago forever and gravitate toward the most obvious, sociopathic and vulgar explanations for everything, I assume claiming “Wendel killed the other chefs” is nothing any more original* than noticing the perpetually gaping mouth spaces common to cereal box characters. I wouldn’t be surprised to find an old page of my own accusing such a thing. But maybe it’s so common because it’s true.

*_{Or it is, but only because I didn’t feel inclined to put a mention of rape in there. Everybody on the internet knows rape is hilarious!}

The famous Trix rabbit pulled some strings, possibly the ones that hold up his eyebrows, and got two different demented expressions on shelves at the same time. He STILL can’t get the cereal he is forever in the proximity of enormous bowls of, and that would push anybody over the edge. Fifty years against a garish red background doesn’t help, either, as his neighbor would no doubt attest were he in a mental condition to do so.

The leprechaun looks like he’s attacking somebody with that giant, irresponsibly over-perspectiv’d spoon. It’s more like a catapult scoop than something a human would eat out of, much less a mythical demi-human a fraction of one’s size. And once again there is glowing with absence of apparent, appropriate light source. In this case it is not a result of stimulants from anything but that which is in the cereal. The marshmallows are now so toxic and explosive that they must be handled from a distance. I do believe Lucky is experiencing a recoil from… shooting it, I guess. Speaking of shooting, I suspect we are not incredibly far off from needing to put heroin into this stuff to keep kids as interested as our profit forecasts and/or psycho spokesmen require.

More red, more threatening loaded spoon attacks. The name of the cereal is even violent. The violence is indiscriminate, too, as the unfortunate positioning of that frog’s eyes combined with the direction its pupil-like-things are pointing in cannot possibly present any vision to the frog-like-creature but its own nose. At least look at me when you smack me, you brute! And… I don’t know what magical “IMMUNITY” Cocoa Rispies is supposed to grant me, but I doubt it’s immunity from the sight of its keepers’ cackling countenances.

I didn’t eat break-fast cereal at all for much of my life. It is only within the past few months that I resumed, and I only eat corn flakes and cheerios, the same things I used to. Even Corn Pops are too sweet for me. Don’t pop my flakes! There’s no sense to consuming that much sugar if it only makes me want to cover the stuff in salt. All the same, I’m sure the artificial nutritive value that gets pumped into these mystery morsels is better than none at all, as a look at the boxes for an equally sweet substance without it suggests:

THESE guys aren’t even happy. They’re ANGRY. They want me DEAD. It’s not enough that I kill myself by pouring coke into myself by the caseload. These fellows need results.

Toucan Sam tm is not quite evil yet, but with that red back there he eventually will be, and until then, as long as he has those GOLD LOOPS he doesn’t have to be. What fruit are those frightful sparklethings supposed to represent? Liberace?

This makes me feel like Count Chocula wants to eat ME. Or my blood. My chocolatey, chocolatey blood. This doesn’t even show the cereal. For all I know each box contains an actual miniature Count Chocola which will create untold chaos when released. Or worse, just his head. And Boo Berry? Why is that here at all? The only place I’ve ever seen Boo Berry mentioned is on “bring back boo berry!” online petitions. I guess it is good that people’s dedicated laziness is not always in vain and can actually get results, but is it fair to burden every shopper with the sight of this result?

Oh, and there on the left… Gosh, kids just aren’t excited about eating chocolate chip cookies for breakfast anymore! What now? RAINBOW SPRINKLES? That’s so crazy, it just might work. If it doesn’t, heroin.

This business philosophy is KILLING our children! The Crunch-o-Thon may welcome me, but it would be morally unconscionable for me to reciprocate. The very thought of encouraging children to engage in such activities so soon after gulping down so much dubious corn product, and with so many razor-edged crunch bits still fresh in their stomachs… oh! If I didn’t know of his cerebral breakdown, I would be sure the Captain was doing this on purpose. Oh, what a chilling thought! What if this was all…

an act?

Forget O-6 pay grade. The Captain has promoted himself to O-G.