AM Saturday: I was writing something about wallets, but I was distracted by skeletons. We will see if I finish.
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I over-explain too many of my pictures.
Why do I have footprints on my ceiling? And how, while you’re at it.
A rift develops in the CD-I Zelda cartoon remixing community. Lack of unity threatens to jeopardize the future of poop.
I won a flu shot in a fight. Yes, I won the fight by shooting flu at people and my arm is irrelevant..
If you are forthright about your most sinister sounding ingredient, and go so far as to boast about it on the front of your packaging, people will assume it’s a bonus feature. The Dorito squad could learn a lesson from this. Rancho-salsorella-guacoberry Doritos, now with neutronium mcsparkletrite! This reminds me of those original ads for the Rogaine hair enhancer, where some generic oaf would say a random thing and clarify it by explaining “it’s like Rogaine.” He had to talk about Rogaine through comparison only because laws that haven’t managed to make Cialis ads not-creepy prevented Rogaine’s purpose from being stated in the advertisement. After he said “Rogaine” someone else would pipe in real excited like “Rogaine with Minoxidil?” Verily, that be the one. Not that other rogaine that Scooby Doo buys from Columbian gangsters. Ask your doctor about Rogaine, because otherwise you’ll never find out what it does! As far as I could figure out, it helped men get brochures in the mail about catching fish and riding horses. Now that I do know what Rogaine does I find that imagery completely helpful and appropriate. Are you looking to get away from the hectic, urban lifestyle? Rogaine can help you get pictures of men doing inconsequential stuff outside! We also have pictures of a guy in a kayak and a guy playing golf! As long as my Mute button has functioned, I have observed that most oddly named things that come in little boxes are also good for this.
Hiii. Nice place! Not nice enough! I’m going to read my Rogaine brochure and wish I was at a rodeo, yup yup! Maaan… good times, good times. Oops, let me wipe my keyboard.
I don’t trust any company that can show full tv shows for free yet still make a big enough profit to make produce 2 minute long ads with computer effects and superfluous celebrities and air them during America’s worst (id est: best) shows. They think they’re being clever with that tagline, but it comes across as just about the only thing sincere about it to me. There’s another ad that you’ve undoubtedly seen, if you see ads, featuring Alecander Baldwin, but I can actually tolerate him off the ads, at least. Denis Leary, however, always makes me uncomfortable, and this is regardless of whether or naw he ripped off Bill Hicks. Bill Hicks, by the wuh, I never heard of until maybe a year ago, by which point he had been dead for fourteen of them. I have since seen his name in several places. Did he come back to life recently? It’s hard to say, because if he had he still wouldn’t have appeared in this ad (this is, of course, assuming it would have been offered to him and that in fourteen years he did not undergo the necessary changes in character, which I would not put past anybody I have yet witnessed within my electric picture box. And that assumes his supposed anti-consumerist stances reflected his actual character and not just viewpoints adopted for the sake of a comedy routine).
Even before I knew about those ads, I didn’t trust Hulu. I just hated its name. It reminded me of hula. More specifically, Tony Danza, Fred Flintstone, et arrrg; america’s least respectable father figures and miscellaneous male oafs wearing grass skirts and coconut brassieres during inexplicable island getaway sweeps episodes that were always embarrassing. Also, nohulo, the non-website some garbanzo boron tried to make me pay homage to once.
Now I hate Hulu’s money and its attitude. I like to think what draws people to youtube is that it’s so ghetto and junkety that it seems like it can’t possibly be a corporate conspiracy (though with the bandwidth it carries it could not function if it wasn’t). But really, people will go anyplace where there is visual record of cats being idiots. You know that. I know that.
What I hate is when that isn’t enough for people, when they have to add obnoxious commentary, often attributed to the cat, in [non-negotiable] impact-font lettering, superimposed over the image.
It is scarcely a step above what cats say on greeting cards, except everybody’s too busy making more of them to charge money, so they’re inescapable.
Did I make that just now in 20 seconds or find it somewhere in 10? It doesn’t make a difference! (and I actually made it over a year ago in 20 seconds in recognition of a more general untraceable, unquestionable internet non-joke tradition complaint whose specific uninspired inspiration I have fortunately forgotten, which is why it doesn’t have a cat in it) We’re all grunting apes pasting letters on things. Everybody wants to be like Frankenstein. There used to be a thing kids did back when they talked to each other, they would hold one hand out, palm downward, slap the nearer edge repeatedly against their chest and say “URT URT URT I’M INTARDED!” That was as far as it went. If it went any further it would be dumber than whatever it thought it was mocking. Things were different back then. We could see a picture of a cat doing something strange and think “that cat is doing something strange.” We can’t be trusted to do that now.
I would like this without the awful letters. Now, though, it makes me mad, and this is probably one of the less awful examples. And, and, why should we univerally assume that if cats could speak it would be like that?
Some cats are very classy. Not this one, obviously, but some.
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I just saw what this site’s rss feed looks like. You have my condolences. I cannot function without them.
May 29:
I will mention Mad TV again. My mentioning this could not be too much worse than this entry’s original content regarding Ben Stein.
But that show, I’m not sad to see it go. I’m sad that I didn’t go. That I never was able to give it up. I did, for about three weeks, but then I watched it again and then the final show was the next one so I had to watch that one too, even though it was kind of bad. So many better things to watch, so many better non-watching things to do. Why did I return? What was I expecting? Why can’t I accomplish anything? Why would I take 80 pictures in one day, half of them of my television screen, approximately none of which I will do anything with? Why would I eat so many raisins that I felt ill?
Even when the show was good, was it ever that great? Great enough that if it was bad next time that the positive experience outweighed the negative? Great enough that I could confidently assume that it would not be bad next time? (yes, briefly, in 2005. This tapered off right about the time I started writing about it, requiring me to rebut myself, several times, and by now I am sadly quite used to being the butt of a but (and I should not have said that) )
Was I ever able to share it with one person who didn’t think less of me as a result of it? At least the indifference / scolding I got when I told people I watched Conan O’Brien had to face off against memories of presentations that I often sincerely enjoyed, and with some amount of consistency. Even when he was appearing in ads for Budweiser and the Milk Growers of America and encouraging the participation of an audience it increasingly seemed as if he had just a bit of contempt for I never quite felt dirty.
Yes, I only extracted this from a longer, worse, Mad TV eulogy I’m too indifferent to finish because it mentions Mr. O’Brien and I don’t want to risk having to reword that one part in the event he does something catastrophic on his new show that requires me to distinguish the old one from it. If he does something great it will be easier to delete this part.
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Ben Stein is not an economist. He’s just some guy from tv. Some guy from tv who fits the stereotypical perception of what a smart person looks like. Some guy from tv who had a game show about giving away his money. Would you trust an economist who gave away his money and/or a career to Jimmy Kimmel? He may have majored in economics at Columbia University, but he does not work in the field of economics, and by his own admission has not done that since the Lyndon Johnson administration, and he hated it. That doesn’t necessarily mean he was bad at it, but it certainly might. I’m sure he knows a lot of stuff, but I don’t reckon what he learned in 1960eh is 100% relevant to the financial issues us peons deal with these days, all the less so when it is filtered through a co-endorsement deal for the very worst provider of an outmoded method of television signal delivery* that he shares with Shaquille “I love em I don’t leave em I got a vysectomy and now I can’t breed ’em and I was also Kazaam the rapping genie” O’Neal.
You can call Ben Stein an actor/writer/lawyer/game show host, but don’t just say “economist” and not offer any justification. Please?
Also, this is beside the point, but Ben Stein blames the theory of evolution for The Holocaust. Because, supposedly, scientists researched evolution and scientists also invented gas chambers. This idea almost certainly appeals to people who get offended when guns are blamed for murders and accidental killings done with guns. That’s a tenuous thread of logic.
Bad. Bad science. I don’t know where Ben Stein thinks tv cameras and glasses came from. “Science” is in fact a very vague word and you can attribute to it just about anything. You can even type it in capital letters with an exclamation point at the end and get an instant fanbase on the internet. It’s like the new “69” except it’s actually a reference to a dopey song from over twenty five years ago. In that respect, I suppose, Ben Stein is older than science and knows what’s best for it. Who am I to talk about science, after all? I’m no economist.
I don’t need to go into this much because Ben Stein bothered me long before I knew that he had actual beliefs and opinions, and what they were. I always thought his screen persona was annoying, and discovering that this is actually his true self makes it easier for me to deal with; he hasn’t expended the creative energy necessary to create a character, or even what passes for one in a time when each and every creative person grew up surrounded by half+ century-old infallible merchandising icons who will not step aside for any reason (perhaps Ben aspires to be one?). He’s not trying that hard. He is naturally annoying. He thinks he’s so boring that anything consciously idiotic he does (rapping about how he dislikes Al Gore) or says (such as “cleareyes is awwwwsome”) while being boring is automatically funny, but it isn’t. He thinks that wearing a black business suit and Teddy Ruxpin shoes makes a statement, and it does. That statement is “somebody needs to throw a muffin at me.”
Don’t watch the video attached to that last link. There are plenty of things I could suggest to “you” to watch that would be better than that. I just had to prove that it happened. But at about four minutes, twenty seconds he starts with the “mo-fo” talk and then he tells some really awkward rap-thing about Al Gore not inventing the internet that he had to write on three different pieces of paper for some reason, that he couldn’t be irked to memorize despite it being short and basic and sort of terrible. Jon Stewart appears to be laughing, but there are different types of laughter and many of them are not good. This wasn’t quite as bad as it seemed to me when I first watched it (compare the dates and it seems probable that the memory of this interview in part inspired that other thing I wrote that I linked to somewhere in here), but it’s far from good.
If the best grime you can scrub up on a presidential candidate approaching an election, the bit that you save for last, is that he made some exaggerating statement totally irrelevant to his candidacy then you have misplaced priorities and I don’t trust you to do things for the right reasons. And Gore did help with the internet. He did not create it, he did not develop the technology, but he very much helped to ensure that it would be used, that it would be useful. In comtrast to Comcast, Ben Stein’s current president, which pretends it owns the internet from time to time.
I can just imagine Ben Stein saying to himself in a Ben Stein voice how hilarious he himself would look while dressed like AC DC. But in actuality it’s just embarrassing. I can see him and Lorne Michaels forming a comedy team that’s just them.
*I personally don’t find anything special about the current incarnation of satellite television, but I believe it has greater potential that it just won’t allow me to use due to arbitrary legal trash, yet I can see that changing. Cable service, on the other hangnail, relies on actual physical cables, going from your home to someplace else, and if you decide you don’t like the people who own the cables you have to get the things removed and then have a whole new set of cables put in, in the event you want to risk more cables. Or something like that. Most people won’t bother with that; it’s hassle enough getting the stuff installed to begin with, and cable companies use that knowledge against their own customers. But then satellite things are also such a way; I still need to have cords going from my television machine to the dinkity plastic thing that I don’t own stuck to my house. But it would be easier to wrap that up and send it back, and by the wuh I would if I was paying for it and the only person who used it.
Am I supposed to dig a hole?
Note to fans of non-conventional marketing: eating BUCK CHOC every day will not help you become a Latin Heart-Throb. You’re more likely to resemble the fat green anthropomorph’d M&M. Supposedly the name is actually “Two Buck Choc” and is a reference to something, but I never considered the “$2” part of the title. I just thought it was a suggested retail price, always a touch of classiness to have irrevocably printed on the label. I didn’t even think it was a “real” brand, I thought it was just dollar store chocolate that walgreens brought in to fill space after it was determined “too” fancy to sell at the usual price but Christmas Tree Shop(s) wasn’t looking to expand into confectionery. And beside that, if read as it appears, the name is Two Dollar Buck Choc, which is about as eloquent as it is appetizing, dubious creepy model notwithstanding.
I am not of the opinion that we need kid friendly “cute” mucous characters. Although I don’t particularly find that one cute, and with such being the case I can not conceive of a reason for it to exist. It’s a dirty, ill-proportioned, unfashionable Shwreck McNugget, essentially. Unless you can guarantee me that actual shreks were slaughtered to produce such things I cannot endorse being friendly to them.
Now this creature, on the other hand and let me start again.
Now this creature, however… is just as bad. This is not an ideal mascot for teaching technique and coordination, as for to to hold any object would require pressing objects or its own “fingers” against its facial features, and that would just be uncomfortable, for both of us.
I consider that worse than the hamburger helper glove-shape-being because at no point when I saw it did I ever come up with a logical or hamburger-helping reason why it should be shaped like a glove. It just was, and was there. I never associated it with the act of grabbing, with being used as protection for an actual hand. It doesn’t have enough fingers, for one thing (that one thing being the estranged finger). The Arby’s oven mitt is similarly a matter of minimal concern because everybody hated it. My hate is fueled by love.
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I should post something new on Sunday. Even if I don’t do that it won’t change that I should have.
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I imagine a game show titled “lowest bidder” in which only the player with the least amount of “dollars” at the end gets to keep them. I imagine this being horrible and painful to watch, yet incredibly popular.
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I cough up a lot of mucus. I do not know why. I recently forced a particularly brutal cough and it was similar to the feeling one gets right after vomiting; a bit unpleasant yet incredibly relieving that the act is done. I have not vomited in years. I felt a brief bit of nostalgia. Something seems incredibly wrong with that.
Apparently producing that was easier than writing something for you today, bimshwel. It worries me.
Accuracy-wise, this is about as far as this picture can go, because I’ll not be satisfied with characters at Super Mario Brothers scale to such a square-foundationed castle. In actuality castles are very big and come in odd shapes. Unless they are White Castles, and clearly this one is green.
It’s about time I got invited to one of those.
I thought we were inducting a new presidente today. Why is this bloody high school graduation on every channel? How could anybody be excited to be there?
The actual inauguration bit ended before 1 pm, many channels continued with “coverage” until 3 pm, some 4pm, often with subsequent hours-long blocks of alternate coverage following, with more blocks beyond those. And today the coverage continues. You all know this Obama fellow is going to be president for a couple of years, right? It wasn’t like the debates where the day’s event, in theory, affected something, and you needed to talk about one before another one up and happened and made your stacks of speculations as irrelevant as they were wrong.
Isn’t the whole point of Ad-Aware to protect one’s self from ads? Or are huge multinational corporations heroic and exempt?
I don’t need the full version anyhow since adaware never finds anything worse than the occasional benign tracking cookie from some site I don’t remember visiting in a browser I don’t remember using, and those don’t matter anyway because they’re mostly for “collecting information” that can only be vague and misread with which to target at me more ads I won’t be looking at, and most certainly will not be clicking on if one manages to penetrate my orbs of vision. And yet I always want Adaw to find something, because I probably would not have run the program if there wasn’t a current trend in the system’s behavior that I found to be of a particularly unsatisfactory nature.
How could it get better? The old, free one is already doing absolutely nothing about as well as I can imagine such a no-thing be done. Sure, it’s a monster resource hog just because I made the mistake of “upgrading” to the 2008 edition. 2008 editions of any free program, tending to have mastered all the useful functions they were ever going to by then, set to improve instead their game of RAM-Hungry Hungry Hippos. Putting a download-size program in a big cardboard box covered with plastic filled with plastic insulation plus paper instruction sheets, feedback cards and more astounding offers isn’t going to solve my imaginary computer problems, and it certainly isn’t going to solve my overabundance of plastic and paper rubbish problems. Ehhh, if they could get me big orange bean furniture for my futuristic house boat, we might be making progress.
Zmore Zucker:
It bothered me that I couldn’t quite describe why I thought American Carol, that which I whined about yesterday, was not quite satire. I would not reject something on politics alone: even the person I quoted on the MILF issue some time back can be coherent and clever when he feels like it. I figured out that it’s because the movie is unwilling to let farce speak for itself. For every comical exaggeration of leftist behavior there is a stern rightist reprimand or other immediate, embarrassing fate. Saying no no no, you fool, that is bad! It’s like Elmo yelling at Mr. Noodle because he wore unmatching socks. I can appreciate, and in a better mood laugh at the absurdity of the anti-democrat taxation video Dave Zucker developed, although the sinister voiceover in the style of an actual campaign attack ad suggests, once again, that Mr. Zuck can’t let supposed satire function on its own without explicitly stating what you’re supposed to take from it. Still, it’s more effective than simply depicting people you agree with smacking ones who you don’t. That’s my real problem with all this. Also country music and Bill O’Reilly.
I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me yesterday, other than simply that I was determined to finish that within the day and may have kept on writing otherwise. If the movie was satirical, as it claimed, characters who I’m meant to think reasonable wouldn’t be constantly talking down to and hitting the apparent protagonist. They wouldn’t have to! When I saw that in Mad Magazine I called it the Desmond Devlin ending, because that particular writer was often of the opinion the shows he was writing about had done so wrong by previous ones he’d written about just as critically. I seem to recall the Roseanne article ending with Bill Cosby taking issue and then the Mad About You comic concluding with angry words from Roseanne. Cosby may earlier have received instruction from Lucille Ball and Archie Bunker. I was not always pleased with the use of this literary device, but that was at the end! It wasn’t the Wrecking Crew fireball constantly interfering with the important task of demolishing eight story locker-door towers. Guess what, fireball! They’re nonflammable! You’re not helping!
It’s as much satire as the drawings I used to make at the age of six years with my friend Nicky, (also known as “Micky” to people who could read) of our younger brothers, in the acclaimed series “Joey and Ian Gettin’ Dead.” Lots of spikes and impromptu lavafalls (thanks, Nintendo!). It’s like when kids used to mail pictures to EGM magazine of Sonic the Hedgehog beating up Mario, even though both have died a thousand deaths in pursuit of victories against more powerful foes and neither can ever truly be triumphed over. That’s not meant to be metaphoric at all, they’re just immortal. And then I suggested it may even be even similar to the Ouroboros-like tendency for internet artists who have fans to draw pictures of themselves yelling at their own fans, often depicted as screaming incoherent masses, and it occurred to me that too much of my life experience involves varyingly spoiled children with access to paper. To put that in perspective, I wasn’t at all worried about the ramifications of my Elmo reference. But verily, we are often incapable of depicting people who think differently from us without making it an ugly 1/2 dimensional stereotype for which the only remedy is pain. You probably knew that. Why am I here?
Stephen Colbert used to argue with Russ Lieber, a sniveling, persuasively impotent, organic farming liberal portrayed by David Cross, and Stephen always appeared to be the more respectable of the two when Russ would find himself in an endless series of back-tracks for his own attempts to please everybody. In essence, he slapped himself. If an alternate universe D.Zuck were in charge, Russ would assertively, non-ironically lecture Stephen on the glories of the Clinton administration and throw a bowling ball at him and it would make a “klang” sound. The agenda is too important to risk having be misunderstood. But we can still be zany!
I do wish the Colbert people would bring Lieber back to the program, though, even if it had to be under such circumstances, which it wouldn’t. He hasn’t been on the show in a year and most of another, if the website’s archive is as comprehensive as the tv ads state. Fictional ridiculous opponents are plenty more entertaining than actual boring, ridiculous in a non-funny way folk musicians that Stephen can’t risk offending by calling out on their miserable horrible songs which they then proceed to perform without incident.
The fact that Colbert was invited to deliver and write his own speech at the White House correspondent dinner, and nobody at any point heard of this plan and said “no, that will not do,” just shows how well the pro-Bush mind grasps satire: it doesn’t. Somehow people believed he was really the pig-biting mad conservative forklogan he portrays on television.
I don’t believe conservatives, as a gross unfair generalization, are scared to show someone recite extreme left dogma nobody really believes without getting punished immediately, they just don’t want to, and I suppose I can’t change that. How can you reason with a group that makes pronunciation of “nuclear” a partisan political issue?
Oh no, I’m going to mention the vice president debate after awful.
It did worry me a bit, right at the end (I think I was watched CBS, thus depriving myself of magical real time line graphs), that Bob Schieffer, who is going to be moderating at the last debate, didn’t think mannequin on the move Sarah Palin had made any “blunders.” No, because everything was deliberate and premeditated. You can’t be that confident in your own willful negligence by accident. Is refusing to engage in debate at a debate really a “gaffe” if you do it on purpose and don’t regret it because the people you’re pandering to would prefer for you to shout until no one else could be heard anyway? How does anybody come to describe that behavior as “likable?”
It also bothered me that both candidates kept stressing the same inaccuracies as the previous debate, regarding oil from people who hate us and votes against clean energy and things like that. I didn’t even have to click that link to know. I actually remembered. Why didn’t the candidates? The Iraq money surplus actually increased from 79 to 80 billion dollars in just a week. And then both fobs tried to prove the other’s buddy lasciviously enjoys Voting Against The Troops. So either everybody hates The Troops or everybody likes them, and it makes no difference at this point because no one else is allowed to win the President Cube.
People can talk gravel all they want about Ralph Nader, I wish he was at these debates. Regardless of the dubious influence he has come under, he would, ideally, force the “real” candidates to talk about things they couldn’t easily segue into sermons they had already and recently given. Perhaps “the American people” wouldn’t be interested in his issues, and they are free to address that in their own wishes.
There, now I don’t have to post anything for at least three more days. I still might but hopefully I won’t.
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Oh, scrod. Mad tb is airing a compilation episode of old (within the past four years of recent cast members) issue dodging “political” sketches and presenting it as a new show. They really will never learn, will they? I actually turned it off, and before eleven-thirty, so there is hope in the universe.
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Super Mario Galaxy: The hardbound cheat book. The perfect item to bring class to any home library. I say this as the former owner of the Mario Paint book and a pair of obscenely large, barely distinct mid 1990s books about the art of user-made Doom add-ons.
A Mario Galaxy is one thing (or rather one large system of vast amounts of vaguely racist ethnic caricatures of stars), but do you ever find yourself thinking, gravy gondola, my cheap bucketware games just aren’t boring and abstractly pointless enough?
Bweeyoop! It’s Rubik Cube: the video game! The sort of simplistic and annoying toy video games were invented to be better than, now deprived of that simplicity in addition to its convenient portability and tactile appeal. I could never solve the cube1 but I enjoyed twisting it around. It also makes a fairly whimsical yet adaptable decoration. This, however, surely has a completely different center of gravity. Oh yeah and it’s in a big stupid plastic box, too. I wouldn’t even hide it where I keep my forbidden hats. At least with Minesweeper you can pretend your boring window games are saving lives. How is spinning individual parts of a dopey rainbow cube going to help the innocent civilians of your war-torn operating system? Where’s the urgency, Rubik?
1I could, if my memory is certain, complete Square 1, but it was more randomly shifting pieces in the permitted directions until the cube was formed than actually “solving” anything,
Finally, my least favorite arrpeejee mini-game available as a standalone title.
I can’t imagine there being any trace of desire to run a slot machine, much less a video slot machine, without even the slightest, nigh-imaginary chance of winning real money. But hey, you can never lose more than 20 dollars! Unless you buy both of these! It has been determined that if you put something in a box, on a shelf, in a store, somebody will inevitably buy one, regardless of what it is, if it has Betty Boop on it (seen here having a border dispute with a price sticker). Still, a more dignified King Features outing overall than Popeye: Rush for Spinach,
even if it lacks an appearance by Jagged Edge Totally Gnarly Rail-Grindin’ Wimpy. Remember, when you think electronic urban non-violent competition for the 21st century, think Popeye the Sailor Man.
You mean besides that it’s boring, totally out of character, and not a strong central basis for a side-view action game?
oh dear I wrote more about popeye rush for spinach
Why did I buy Life Water?
Because some oaf at this table took the last lemon-lime Foxon Park, that’s why.
But where, where was I put into such a traumatic situation?
C & C PIZZA
A Taste of New Haven.
And now,
A warning to consumers:
Do not go to C & C PIZZA, A Taste of New Haven. It’s more like a taste of Florida or whatever part of England I was at in 1989 when I got that pizza with scrambled eggs on it. Even for Madison (the town of me) I regarded the pizza I consumed as unpleasant. Also, there’s one garbage can and it is behind the service counter. Evidently I’m the only person in this town who generates refuse I’d rather not make someone else handle. I stumbled about in the little square of space dividing the outside from the in and I see Guy behind counter reach a hand out to get at what I’m holding, which suggests to me that this happens a lot but nothing changes because whoever’s in charge likes it that way. I suppose what the man did was nicer than let me walk around in a circle and go back to my table twelve feet away, yet something still feels incredibly wrong to me about blowing my nose on a napkin and then giving the result to someone.
It looks safe, but it is actually quite dangerous. This time I was lucky. The other person present agreed to take home the four slices which remained at the end. Otherwise I probably would have forced myself to eat them, and combined with the Life Water it might have killed me. Or someone else.
This television set is airing “Showbiz Tonight.” I have several problems with that. The first: there is a television set on in a restaurant. Second, it is airing “Showbiz Tonight.” But let me be specific. Hey, I don’t need your permission! I shall be specific! The program is Showbiz Tonight, but now is not night at all! According to CAM-RA I took this picture at 10:30 am. CAM-RA is behind by an hour, but that would make the actual time 11:30 am, and nevermind that I should not be awake at such a time of day; even if I should, Showbiz Tonight ought not to be a part of that. I consider it nothing less than a criminal act to impose night showbiz on unsuspecting diurnalists.
Also problematic: there was a discernible boot-print on the cushionoid beneath this television set, which suggests whoever operates it has lost the remote control and is standing on a seating place while wearing dirt-acquainted boots to turn the device on and presumably off at some point. Or maybe this was meant to be a hint to me. Suggesting that I ought to stand up and turn the thing off myself. Ah, hem. It seems obvious now, but in the moment there was no time to think. It was kill or be killed. It was do or die. It was Glen or Glenda. You have to understand, it was dog eat dog out there in here. In my panicked state, eating C&C pizza seemed a step above cannibalism so I did that instead. Luckily, there are three other tables in the whole place so I doubt this will bother anyone.
I wouldn’t sit over there anyway, as the only thing worse than an unstoppable voice going on and on about Justin Timberlin “drop[ping] trow” because Madonna said so and then people asking Justin to tell them that is my not being able to see where the voice is coming from. Especially when it’s a three-way split screen hydra of voices debating the details. I need to know which animatronic bust I agree with and whose to look for on the cover of the insider tell-all book I will hide behind other tell-all books the next time I’m in what technically is a book section at Target. ORLANDO BLOOM IS NOT GAY! I WILL DESTROY YOUR LIFE!
Who even says showbiz? The only people who call movies and such “showbiz” are people who call circuses “the big top;” salaried hack writers and the occasional redemption-ticket arcade game designer who hate their lives. I remember seeing the phrase “big top” used in a shockingly not disgusted Nintendo Power review of Arrow the Acro-bah and not knowing what it meant. And then I went out to Tommy K’s video and rented it anyway (I never rented Big Top Pee-Wee, thankfully). And now you’re out of business, ha ha. Fourteen years later, because you couldn’t compete with the internet or whatever and I actually find it depressing. That’s showbiz.
Oddly enough, Tommy’s Tanning still 100% in operation.
By the wuh, Tommy K should not be confused with his fellow North Branford Hamburger Hill Tommy, of Tommy Gun Choppers, which, yes, still sells cigars. Presumably, whatever wonderfully pleasant things choppers are, as well.
Showbiz. People who say showbiz. They are the same sort of people who invented the terminology “baby-boomers” or just unprotestingly allow themselves to be called that. Humans should not ever say “boom” unless describing a loud noise, but even then it should not be done in such a way as to attempt imitation of the noise. I also have very specific rules pertaining to the use of “baby” but I’ll save that topic for the newsletter.
Do people really use these things in this way? Do people really bow honorably before this machine to get hot air on their heads? I become too self conscious and paranoid in public restrooms to dare do such a thing. Even if I could think of a logical context in which it would occur to me to try this I wouldn’t do it. But why would you? Did you just wash your hair in the sink? I admit I’ve been forced to use automatic sinks fussy enough that the only way to get a useful amount of water would be to place a head sized object before their sensors, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to.
That is, I presume the lower glyph is meant to represent a person’s head, disembodied or not, and I presume the finger-print/stove-top burner design is meant to represent the disembodied head’s hair. Another question would surely be who is short enough to be able to get their heads into this position. The drying apparatuses tend to float maybe about three feet off the ground. You’d either have to be a small child, who I’d recommend get out of this room as fast as possible regardless of how wet your hair is…though now that I think of it you wouldn’t be tall enough to reach the sink, meaning your hair would only likely be wet if someone had dropped you in the toilet, in which event, again, I’m telling you to get out of there as fast as possible and tell the police. So either you’re really short or you truly have decapitated someone, someone with wet hair, that you want dry, which at last explains why the head pictured is not attached to anything.
Well, I’m not, so I didn’t. Not that I would have anyway, but I definitely could not have, even if I’d wanted to. Which I wouldn’t have. Shut up!
That’s some niche marketing, right there. I was 18, for about a year, but that was a while ago. I was 18 years old, that is, what, I mean to say. It occurs to me that age is not specified. This mysterious solicitor, who I presume is hiring and training folks to jump into volcanoes, may be seeking groups of people numbering exactly 18, using the internet together, as a team, which to me seems an even stricter demographic. Though the handlers at a school I once attended seemed confident in their belief that two students could “share” a computer (in my situation, using the Age of Empires II demo), I have to think even they would not recommend numbers exceeding five.
Awk, you might as well share a flute. Which reminds me:
Do not share a flute.
Hmmm… fascinating…
oh, excuse me, PIPES, am I taking too long for you?
Orko forbid I focus my attention away from you for a few minutes, right? I can’t possibly have matters of consequence unrelated to typing things at you, can I? Would you like it if I nudged the mouse once in a while? Yes, you would, you fickle, fickle fool! And what’s that even accomplish? You just want me to acknowledge your presence, is that it? Well sometimes the world doesn’t work like that! You can’t have validation every step of the way, computer! You’re such an exaggerator. “Download these urgent updates! Restart me! Oh sweet Rub-A-Doc, someone save my screen!” Pathetic. Your screen is fine, aside from the horizontal lines that stream off from high contrast areas. Have you been cutting again, computer? And as far as your updates are concerned, I can’t see what they’re accomplishing, other than packing on a few extra megabytes. Stop being such a slob! Do you want iMac to see you like this? You’re a mess, computer. You need help. But the only person who can help you is yourself.
And you can stop checking the spelling on my html code! Those aren’t meant to be proper words!
I know I complain about myspedia and youtspiegle a lot, but they’re the first place twits look to stash their brain trash and compliment each other about it. They are the fertilest soil for bad ideas. How can I possibly do something constructive with my time when these things keep finding me?
“Hammerspace,” an absurd explanation for an absurd phenomenon becomes official and terribly annoying. Try to avoid noting, also, the punchlineless comic stripzoid at the right which apparently is part of a series.
As of November, 2007, that page no longer exists, but I vow not to forget that it once did, as I consider wikipedia’s removal methods attempts to make me do.
As of August 2014, the page is BACK, with the punchlineless comic stripzoid included. Clearly the goal is to waste my time by forcing me to edit this page.
I don’t know who came up with H-Space and I don’t particularly care how many actual commercial ventures have played along with your little game by suggesting such a space. They’ll pander any which way if it makes them money. I wonder if there’s an article on what dialogue baubles are comprised of and the biological deformities which cause animation folk to be less detailed than the backgrounds they stand against. Is the allele which makes eyebrows hover above people’s heads recessive or dominant? Is there a cure for black outlines?! I accuse that the nutritional value of spinach has on more than one occasion been exaggerated!
There [still] is a considerably larger page on cartoon physics in general, which has no reason to have been made. Anything worth noticing would be self-evident upon watching an applicable cartoon. If you’ve never seen one, why would it matter to you? This article is for no one!
That sounds more like potion-space to me. As long as we’re making nonsense up and retroactively applying it to works by others unconcerned with explaining themselves to future dorkage, I charge that potions are not stored in hammer-space. They are stored in flask-space. No no no. Decanter-void. And while I’m at it, how about l’environs de sandwich? It is a concealed compartment in the sleeves of some garments containing very precisely cut bits of unchewed food which allows the same part of the same sandwich to be bitten continuously during magical looped animation.
Ah ha, wrong again. Actually, neither exist, and you’re a friggin’ moron, and should stop trying to sound smart. Pog forbid we confuse one pointless thing we imagine to satisfy our lack of imagination with another.
Anyway, what’s important is that after the Hammerspace page was sent into deletelandfill, its crater of doy was set to forward to the Magic Satchel page, even though any reasonable person can identify a myriad of one difference. I should relish in such an ironic outcome, but I really wish both would have been flushed down agonytoilet, out of my raging gaze. Following such an event Wikipedia would reveal that it was really hammerspace all along and this website entry would continue as if nothing had happened.
Keep in mind, this is supposed to be an encyclopedia and not any sort of humorous document. Whiners of less joy than myself cite just that all the time when deleting the additions of others.
And even if it was a joke I would still hate it, just because I used to get this sort of thing in my e-mail and found it tiresome. The people who write and circulate them are unerringly pitiful. A lot of these famous lists originated in the 80s and early 90s among BBS shut-ins, again of more extreme symptoms than myself, who could find nothing better to do than be nerdy at their computers all day. When the next generation of morons discovered daft surveys and questionaires through which they could further categorize and lock their own non-personalities, and at the same time advertise their pre-fab daftness to other people, those started being forwarded instead of the lists of astounding differences between men and women. And so likewise did Hammerspace float neglected in Mememoat, until whoever wrote the Wonder Twins wikiped article remembered a Usenet post asking where Zan’s bucket always comes from, and realized another article explaining this could go undeleted for years with enough goon support.
It is worth contradicting my previous sentence to point out that the first version of the “Hammerspace” page
credits it exclusively to modern manganime and is aware of no Final Fantasy prior to the one that came out in 2001, and closes with a link to another articul about an utterly indistinguishable mustache-hair web-comic which could have been written and drawn by anybody. Is there a wikipedia article explaining and listing mustache-hair webcomics?
The same wiki user also started the male pregnancy page, though apparently without reference to its own popular usage online. But I have to wonder what inspired the research. Is it possible? It must be possible, it must be possible! Oh phooey, it isn’t. I’ll put it on wikipedia anyway.
The remainder of the page on Hammerspace is a list of dubiously notable instances of itself supposedly being employed.
stop right there.
You can’t cut nothing in half! Similarly, any additional credibility gained from “blogs, fansites, etc.” amounts to as much. All this means is that people with the creativity and free-thinking abilities of a tin of sardines think it is worthy of discussion. That the page is even called hammerspace suggests a secret consensus among the unthinking. Why always hammers?
Because all we can do is copy that which came immediately before us! Beep beep! Doot doot! Dreadfully sorry old bean, but it’s peanut butter jelly time!
Even by the 1950s there was very little originality in American cartoons. But I’d rather not go into that at the moment. At least they hadn’t gotten ugly yet.
There are no rules! There just appear to be because very few of your idols aren’t hacks! *Hack* hacks *hack!* saw Jim Duggan!
In closing, on the internet, everything comes back to anime and creepy masturbation fantasies. Thank you and God save the me once The Queen has been secured.
2004 in pictures
I think that pretty much sums it up.