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Questionable artwork and pedantic miscellany
August 29, 2014
Over 86% of people named Jagger would advise Jagger as baby name.

I have this picture open in another browser tab. I keep forgetting about it and then making very alarming laugh-noises and exclaiming “Iron Eagle!” in an increasingly high pitched voice when I unexpectedly find it again. It is the video cassette box art for Iron Eagle III: Aces,

akadaka Aces: Iron Eagle III

and sometimes just

ACES when for some baffling reason we want to pretend there weren’t two warning shots before this one.
I am told that this larger edition of the picture was for the original theatrical advertisement poster, which also means that after two whole Iron Eagles this was still able to get itself into theatres. I can’t think why it was cropped for the video release. The more picture I see, and the less obscured it is by lettering, the better it looks and the less cheap its 1992 pre-Photoshop effects look. Photoshop existed in 1992 but I doubt the people at fault could afford it or internet to pirate it on at that time. At best they hired someone who was really good with scissors to make a collage.

In fact I went to a school called Aces at one point and I tell you this picture just about sums it up. That is not true, but maybe when I am yet older and do not quite remember, this explanation will suffice and I will not investigate the matter more deeply.

I attended in a hope to provide challenge for the staff, because as anyone in the field will tell you, sometimes teaching is way too easy. I know some of you like your cinnamon and bucket challenges, I prefer the Iron Eagle challenge.

What intrigues me so about this situation? Is it the enormous, legless man floating/propped up behind the tiny woman? Is it the man’s goofy facial expression and Lipton tea officer hat? Is it just the name “Iron Eagle” combined with my knowledge that he IS Iron Eagle because his colonel hat has an Iron Eagle on it? That real colonels actually have silver eagles, but this guy is so corny that he only gets a rinkity dinkity eagle made of a much cheaper metal? That the series is named after him even though he wasn’t actually the main character of the first volume? He looks so concerned. Like he just realized he is Iron Eagle and all the ramifications that involves. That was a magical period; there were two iron eagles already, and you wonder “where can it go from here?” never realizing you’re not even done yet;

there’s still Iron Eagle: on the Attack yet to be made and released. Do you grasp that? It hasn’t even been MADE yet. Iron Eagle is STILL in active production. ANYTHING can happen. Plenty more iron, plenty more eagle still to come.

Only ONE MAN will suffice! Who is it? Iron Eagle! It is no longer a remark on the unlikelihood that he would be promoted to general and receive a non-bird for his hat; by this point it is HIS NAME. Don’t tell me everyone in the movie calls him “Chappy” (because that would mean you had seen the film and have a more important destiny than reading dumb web pages) to me he is only Iron Eagle.

As before, it was initially presented as a non-numbered original production in the apparent hope of appealing to sequel-snubbers, with the marketers eventually having to admit, yes, this IS Iron Eagle IV, so that sequel enthusiasts could figure it out.

And if Roman numerals are too highbrow for you, we’ll put a regular 4 on the videocassette tape.

You can tell Iron Eagle IV and Iron Eagle on the Attack are the same movie because the ONE MAN tagline is unchanged, even though in both cases Iron Eagle has visibly failed to prevent something from blowing up while he poses for the picture. Maybe he wants to make sure we understand: He IS Iron Eagle, the one man, and until we meet his demands, things are going to be pretty lousy.

February 18, 2011
I eat I eat I eat so much pasta, basta, I’m so full and yet so lonely!

My two most common injuries are hangnails and gum lacerations caused by mishandled toothbrushes.


E investigates kidnapping! I fear these kids are staying lost.

Me oh mice, it must be Missing Persons Monday. E programmers are very considerate. They want to make sure that all kids are safely where they belong:

in front of cameras and going to jail. I enjoyed myself talking endless trash about Lindsee Lohan… when she had a successful, irritating career. After Britney Spears, Paris Hilton and Anna Nichole Smithereen all had their idolators turn into antagonists I wonder if the E! station actually sees this stuff coming and that they’re encouraging it, and in fact considers that a big part of the thrill. “Aw spanx I can’t WAIT for Justin Bieber to develop a drug problem! Daniel Radcliffe let us down, that crumbum.” That’s a more comforting thought than them honestly having no idea. You treat these undisciplined spoiled children like infallible gods but gradually require them to become nakeder and nakeder for you to still take their pictures and talk about them once they aren’t cute anymore. Not that Anna Nichole Smith or Paris Hilton ever were, but they were certainly naked a lot.

On the subject of the one-who-biebs, and I’m sure I’m not the first to issue such a call to nobody in particular, but might we give it a rest on the Justin Bieber complaints? I gabbed garbage because I hated a photograph and because I didn’t know who the kid was yet was being told he was the most influential hero in all the lands. The complainers I have encountered since then know exactly who Justin is and it’s their own bloody fault for not putting forth any effort in choosing their own sources of entertainment. I recently read some gloating due to M. Bieber not having won a gramma award. If you WATCH the grammaphonies or care at all who wins the related trinkets you are as much at fault for the manufactured success of this Justin and others as anybody else.

Is he homosexual? I don’t know! I don’t even know if I’m homosexual. You’d think some thug or another at every single stage of my life would have informed me if I was in the most wrathful tone possible. It’s certainly not relevant to the quality of his musical product beyond the sincerity with which he addresses unspecified females in lyrics he most likely did not write for unlike-genital’d fans to imagine themselves in the place of. Every song by Nickleback is about drinking beer and having sex with ladies and that doesn’t make them good.

I remember, last summer, the visiting neighbors’ visiting grandchildren repeatedly expressing, in yell form, their preference for the fellow before jumping into their little hose-filled wading pool. I LOVE JUSTIN BIEBER *splash*. They just shout that for no reason, like a battle cry almost. That’s some heavy commercial indoctrination. If you were to scream the opposite while jumping into your own pool it wouldn’t make any less sense.

As opposed to that big faggot, the buff waddler.

Dire Straits. The band that willingly depicted itself like this in the video you are leaving this comment on had a legitimate beefaroni with your contemporary idea of a “faggot.”

Finally, somebody with some sense.

It is my speculation that the more you speculate on this question the less sense you are capable of making. It’s one thing to say to your friends “ha I bet he’s gay” as a way of downplaying his achievement, because being gay is worse than all failures, but why would you ask this question in earnest to anonymous persons on the internet as if it truly mattered to you? (and how do you have friends?)

Well gee now you’ve got me curious.


We survived the Backstreet Boys. We survived Ricky Martin (who actually IS gay but that’s beside the point because being gay means a different thing to gay people than it does to whoever persaccuses them of being gay). We survived the Spice Girls (who actually weren’t awful considering the company I’m putting them in). I at least am old enough to remember surviving New Kids on the Block. I know some people who survived the Osmonds or the Monkees or the Partridge Family or whatever else ravaged the land in the cruel pre-bimshwel days. Sometimes annoying stuff gets popular. I often find that it’s the only stuff that gets popular. Such as the communication venues I encounter most of AHHHHHHHHRHRHHR I’VE BEEN TRUNCATED

July 26, 2010
Time reported that the craze started at the University of Arkansas when a shortage of chairs at a fraternity house led students to imitate their Ozark forefathers, who hunkered regularly.[2]

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 4thchan 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.


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.

April 1, 2010
Better watch out for those man-eating jackrabbits and that killer cacti. Hey, dude.

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?






And now I am sad.


March 15, 2010
The experience was short lived as the players dropped off their luggage and headed back to the bus for practice at the HP Pavilion – just in time to hold the door open for a duck.

I am working on something, but I have to go now!


I guess I have to update this thing on Sunday. It has been difficult lately. Gosh. A stairway!


First of all, whose friends are they? They wouldn’t be mine if they really thought my dumb, would they? I know it’s bad thing to have my dumb be thought, because it has a sideways sad face next to it! And it has an equality symbol rather than a colon, so it’s stylized, like it was drawn in the 1920s or something. Has my been dumb for that long?

I’d think 100 percent would fail because vampires are FICTIONAL.

I will come clenly and admit that I don’t know a whole lot about vampires beyond what I just said, since their non-existence didn’t inspire much urgency to read up on them.

Who’da thunk it! So now I know plenty.

This has got to be one LONG book. I may not live to see the end, but on the positive end that also means I won’t ever have to start on that Goosebumps volume over yonder.

Vampires also know the Romans had filthy mouths. They were around, they remember. They also remember the Romans were very democratic. Vampires may live forever, but they can’t deliver the content you need without your precious delicious oozing votes.

Incidentally, I believe having an open mind is important, but it will take a bit of doing to convince me that drinking blood is expressing an opinion of some sort.

ANYwuh, what we have seen is merely an inexplicable update on another old standard, the easy question that you’re supposed to feel special for knowing the answer to despite the fact that some unknown entity is trying either to sell you an unknown thing that it has been determined you’re best not knowing too much about in advance or merely to shove more ads at you on a different page that IT gets money for. Look at that, “buffalo” isn’t even capitalized, like it’s the animal rather than the city, because you’re so smart you only need two real choices. These days you’re even specialer because 97% of some group of people that also is not specified can’t figure it out, and you’ll go through the ad JUST to PROVE how brilliant you are because you already know! It feels good to be among the elite few, doesn’t it?

Huff, well I never! Don’t you know, this is the OFFICIAL quiz[.com]! This is the one the government uses to recruit for its official vampire hunting squad! This is the same one Sarah Michelle Gellar used to get off All My Children! Now she is an international superstar!

And then I had her arrested on pedophilia charges for getting all my children off.

All because of the official quiz! Do I hear a thank you?

Do you see the skulls? Do you see anything BUT skulls? Angela Lansbury must be coming for a visit. I understand that unlike some people she has a new product to promote, too.

That is to be expected, since I always think it’s the same person, creepy Adobe Illustrator rendering regardless. How do we know that’s not a ventriloquist dummy used to stand in and provide an alibi for Lansbury while she did the murders? I’m not fooled. I haven’t forgotten about that pie shop she ran in the late 70s. Surely this constitutes a violation of her parole from being a teapot.

In other news, I give praise to any handless conjoined twins who can pull off a successful burglary. It’s a shame they’re about to be murdered.

September 23, 2009
get the kids out of the house and I’ll call the police. we don’t own a clown statue.


Apparently, updating this page once every five days is even too frequent.

There is clearly much more important business to tend to, besides.

Poliglotery sounds horrible only to dumbs…

From:  “Heart Attack Jones” <[email protected]>

To:     “Diane Sawyer” <[email protected]>

Date:  Fri, 18 Sep 2009 6:01 AM (5 days 11 hours ago)

Esteemed M. Fabrax,

As you may well know, the G-20 summit will be taking place next week here in Pittsburough. You of course do not live in Pittsburrah, but in light of the recent economic brouhaha, I understand this has been quite a topic elsewhere, as well (or at least Deutsche Welle news gives me this impression). Avid social commentator as you are, I thought that perhaps you might be interested making a work of art to commemorate this event. Ah, but of what subject matter? Well, I personally can’t help you there, but perhaps there’s a chance some third party may have given you a suggestion at some point in the last few weeks which might somehow be thematically appropriate…?


   – A retarded samurai

Seven brides for seven brothers

Date:  Wed, 23 Sep 2009 6:11 PM (right neeyow)

Dear Jones:

Your presumptuousness disgusts me. I don’t like the labels on your soft drinks, either.

   – Plapazor Frinkadudel

August 9, 2009
Pump it pump it pump pump it up. Nothing can make this one stop

Watchmen on DVD, featuring an additional 24 hours of never-before-seen footage! When I watched those men in a theater, indeed my greatest complaint was that the film had used its time too efficiently. We need to pad this out, yo.

I like this new “wheelchair access” symbol. It has action lines. Much like Wheelchair Mario, it really emphasizes handi-CAPABLE. It also communicates “look here, sonny. I have to use my ARMS to move these WHEELS, and THAT’S why I can’t open the door.” Although the old one looks like it wants to punch somebody, I don’t reckon it would be a very effective punch from that starting position.

I don’t know why people complain about their Department(s) of Motor Vehicles. The floating, misshapen smiley face in the corner puts me completely at ease and cures all my worries. Although I do begin to think perhaps that is a character flaw of mine.

Which is not to say my sense of alarm has dulled to a sirloin tip:

Maybe I’ve been on the internet too long, but I find something intensely upsetting about somebody having brown fluid dripped on itself and also being jaw-detachingly ecstatic about that happening, and then this getting the unconcerned, “inoffensive” label “muddy.”

“Oops! Looks like somebody got all muddy! XD!” Also, why is it so hard to actually bake our cookie dough? Nevermind the laziness of saying “gah, forget it, just shove it in a box,” I’m pretty sure eating uncooked dough is a health hazard.


Ohhh… Wikihow.

I didn’t realize what site I was at.

The next time I worry I’ve wasted my life, I’ll just look at how many times this article had to be reverted. Somebody really has it in for the cookie dough page.

January 7, 2009
A crooked trader is offering bum deals in this town

I’ve never seen someone made so upset by the sight of a chocobo. I’d assume it had something to do with being in a dungeon, traditionally kind of upsetting locations, but these things don’t seem at all worried:
(Although they appear to not have been tossed in the dungeon for their crimes yet.) People must just really hate being around them yella boids. For good reason, I’m certain. For one thing, the title “Chocobos Dungeon” implies both that the bird itself is the proprietor of the dungeon and also that it has an unfortunate habit of misplacing apostrophes, neither especially charming character traits. For shame, bird!

Ooh, we mustn’t foul the air for the PINE CONE, should we? Argo, where do they come from?

Note that my last was a rhetorical question; I know precisely where pine cones come from and am presently working on a solution.

As long as we’re in here, I will transition into a related topic.
You can learn a lot about parents by what they say to their kids in public bath-rooms. At the Clinton Crossing boredom village outside semi-mall restroom:

“Aw Cameron, ya pooped yaself. Now ya don’t get a snowboard!”

I’ve seen people use snow-boards, and I never got the impression that doing so was something easier than restraining one’s bowel material.

But then again, one Mr. S. Hedgehog was busting mad beef off bodacious gnarlburgers1 long before the bulk of his supporting cast could no longer be contained by the intestine of creativity so perhaps there is more reason behind this punishment than I once was willing to consider.

It well complements another wisdom nougat overheard in the restroom vicinity of Crystal Mall’s food area some years ago:
“if you don’t pee on your hands, you don’t have to wash ’em.”
Alas, I recorded that so long ago I no longer recall if a child was present or if this was even being said to an acquaintance. Some people, when they learn the secrets to life, feel guilt whenever they see anybody who is unenlightened. But save your words, wise friend. Only when they come to the conclusion themselves can they truly understand. By that same token pretend I didn’t just say that to you.

So the words, then, are true, but I think it may be necessary to void the waiver if you touch what the urine came out of or the protective casing your liberated spigot was waiting unventilated in for the past hour(s) or so. Or even, should the occasion arise, the door. Also, be aware that regardless of voiding, the hand wash pass is not followed by an “ever.” At some point you will have to endure the unspeakable, endless agony of soap and water upon your phalanx covers again. It cannot be helped. We’re still working on that. Between this and pine cones, we’ll be busy for rather a long while. It is unfortunate they both chose to invade our precious lavatories at the same time.

1I forgot


Other news:

It seems cruel to exlude robots using their own traditional forms of creative expression. A thousand shames upon you, Anne-doray. May all your adversaries oppose you with discarded meats! (on plates)

December 8, 2008
The people are gonna die regardless, but this duck still has a fighting chance!

I’d love to explain this to you.


What did I do yesterday? Can anybody tell me? I did not get any work done yet I most certainly did not do anything fun, either.

These things are sort of fun, though.

I’m going to miss you, too.


Hey, that which I posted recently regarding Madmartigan reminds me of some crazy rambling essayoid I wrote about MadMartigan two years ago. It went a little something like this. A big something like this, actually.

I thought for certain I’d have taken a picture of the box or one of the numerous stupid sights of the film at some point, but none seem to exist. I show instead Whoopi Goldberg in Burglar, which you will be glad to know that despite the suggestive themes I did not steal. Clearly that is a big problem at Wal Mart, though.

I saw the 1988 Lucasfilm classic “Willow” recently. A DVD copy of this was the thus far apparent culmination of an inside joke the likes of which cannot be understood (it involves diapers). Surprisingly, it was much worse than I thought it would be. It may also be surprising, perhaps, that I expected it to be good. It did make me wonder, though, how anyone expected much from Star Wars “episode 1” when a George Lucas movie with many of the exact same faults had already existed for ten years, but without any past franchise success eager to jinx it. Quite simply, they, much like meself, had not seen Willow. It’s one of those movies where seeing things continuously not quite fall into place is more disappointing than had there been no chance. If the movie had been a total disaster I wouldn’t be bothered theorizing alternate versions that are better.

There is a point, for example, where Madmartigan is stricken with magic love dust and then rushes into the tent of Sorsha, his female adversary, and wakes her up while telling a stupid poem. In theory, it could be funny, except Sorsha becomes conflicted over the act, rather than just kicking Marty in the face and calling some guards, none of whom were apparently watching the prisoners or their leader.

And then I was thinking “how about there is no love potion, and Madmartigan sneaks in there planning to kill Sorsha, but he can’t bring himself to do so because because because but she wakes up and Martigan must pretend to be crazy and that would have made more sense…” I have more important things to think about than that. Specifically, just Madmartigan in general.

He isn’t even Mad Mart-igan. He is Madmartigan. He is not a man named Martigan who has a reputation for flipping his matters out at people. His birth certificate says “Madmartigan McMeeplesworth” on it. I have found myself just speaking “madmartigan” repeatedly. And he’s really not that important a character. He’s supposed to be, but again, the movie is just badly done. Here, he’s in a cage. Next, he’s just nowhere, and he’s lost the baby Willow trusted him with. Look, he’s disguised as a woman and running away from some ramshackly establishment. Hmmm? Oh, now he’s captured again. Fight? No, escape. Now he’s falling down a snow-covered mountain’s side. “He’d better not turn into a snowball,” I quipped. Now he’s turned into a snowball. Ah, now a fight. But what’s going on? Where did these monsters come from? Who is hitting who? Why did people load all these crossbows and catapults and then abandon the fortress? Who is this talking rodent again?

I have no problem with the “dated” visual effects. I love stop motion monsters and cartoon lightning bolts. The only things that look totally out of place are the “brownies,” regular sized people meant to seem tiny, filmed separately and inserted into the main picture with a pre-bluescreen era process that makes them appear really far away rather than small, but they’re in the foreground and ugh. A bit like that Buddha “statue” in Mortal Kombat that looks more like somebody’s desk paperweight. Focus on the focus, people! But that’s not important, because my nonexistent “ideal” version of the movie hardly has brownies in it at all (except for the part where Airk Thaughbaer happens upon one of Willow’s “magic” laxative-laced confections, intended as a housewarming gift for the villainous Kael, and hilarity ensues when Airk tries to conceal his deed). They look out of place because they are out of place, in more ways than two. This is why people write fan-fiction. I don’t want to write fan-fiction. “Fan-fiction” being stories about characters one likes enough to write stories about. The inventors of the quote-marked phrase seemed quite sure non-fans would not bother.

The Willow arcade video game makes more sense as a video game than the Willow movie makes as a movie. The real question is whether that sentence made any sense. But see: in the game, Willow’s too busy throwing sparkle glitter at soldiers and rat dogs to carry a baby. You find out Bavmorda (the villain who desires the baby) already has the baby in the first level. That’s fine, since after 90 minutes of movie in which Willow is supposedly going towards some place safe Bavmorda gets the baby anyway. Additionally, I have great fondness for the method used to digitize the intermission scene people, even if the Willow a player actually controls looks as much like Chucky as Warwick Davis.

As I said, I don’t want to write fan-fiction. I said that to lead into this paragraph. But then I didn’t. But now I have. I like to think that at best I could amount to more than Phillip Jose Farmer, the kook who invented the “Wold Newton Family,” the concept that all the pre-established characters he’s spent his life writing his own stories about or as not only logically coexist but are related to each other. I probably won’t but my aspirations ought to.

Not that I think Mr. Farmer is a bad writer; I don’t really remember. I went through a bunch of stories by him back when I read and it wasn’t until years later that I realized how crazy he is or has been. He was most prolific in the 1960s and 70s but yet lives, and yet writes, even if the Wold section of his official website strongly implies he became dead some time in 1997. At any rate he’s done well enough that his work typically isn’t referred to with a deprecating label like “fan fiction.” But it’s the same thing.

And now here’s a rebuttal, also by me, from only one year ago.

Is the inclination to write asinine fan-fiction really so indicative of maladjustment? All of the most “beloved” animated films are freely interpreted from pre-existing works and using pre-existing characters. The only real difference is that the subject matter was sought out rather than received and gobbled up gleefully. Even wholly authorized and admitted “adaptations” seem to feel no lack of validity inventing new stupid situations at the director or whoever’s contrivance. In the time of ancient Greece any yahoocles could write his own story about Zeus (women and slaves, obviously, were not permitted to do so) magically transforming into a duck and doing unlikely sexes to the goddess of the author’s choice. Our modern fanfictioners are part of a greater tradition than they realize and/or deserve. Just instead of Zeus it’s Nick Jonas and instead of a duck it’s Vulpix and instead of a goddess it’s Jesse from Full House. The fact that popular fan-written characters aren’t all-powerful masters of all things who we might presume to have such powers (and in fact rarely exceed average functionality) or living in a time which predates the concept of moral decency need make no difference. Maybe it ought to, but it doesn’t need to.

I should know better than to rebut myself in public.

June 29, 2008
Get ready Cape Cod, the rock room is back at Pufferbelly’s!

Nevermind that, what about the ground turning to blood?

You might have thought that while I was away I would have taken some opportunities to finish long not-finished web-site-things without any imaginary immediate deadlines or maybe even get something important done.

Well that’s what I thought. Perhaps you know me better than I do.

Which is not to say I had a particularly rollicking time not getting anything done, either. I have forgotten how to rollick.

When I hear swimsuit legally-more-respectable-than-straight-up-pornography models interviewed needlessly on television or any other applicable medium in which their voices are recorded, they occasionally comment upon how, ha ha, no, that picture there, the swim-flesh-obscurement triangles no one would ever swim while sort-of wearing were not fabric but in fact painted directly to the skin!
And so I wonder why, if we’re painting the things into existence, should we do it in the same stupid configuration as before? Instead of little impractical triangles fastened by string, how about large round supper dishes? If we must remain nautically themed, I do suggest an old-timey sea diving out-fit (unless Scooby Doo is scheduled to appear, in which case that might not be the best choice). Why not paint the lady a big hat with fruit on it? Why not have swirly patterns branching off from the woman’s spine? Why not give her scales? Why not paint the entire human into the picture and not even hire one? Why not paint a volcano or a crystal jungle or a pianoforte made entirely of porcupines instead?

Good point! Me not need know! Me just like boobs ‘n beer!
It is worth noting that though this ad is blamed on 1990, I remember the slogan quite well despite being seven years old for most of that year and in no condition to be consuming the product. Also, surprisingly, this particular ad itself is blatantly non-misogynistic and I’m sure the Budweiser legacy department appreciates me finally placing it into such a context.

Not because it’s ignorant or annoying, I hope. What then permits being memorable in advertising? An annoying catch-phrase? An annoying jingle-tune? An annoying licensed+edited song by someone famous? Annoying pandery imagery? An annoying smart-arp mascot? I think we need new words so that we can more easily differentiate between ought to be remembered, able to be remembered and that for which nothing less than a lobotomy will ever get you restful sleep again.

Sure, I’d love for your giant pill to puke powder onto my pelvis. What took you so long?
Also, there are two “funny” yupetube videos of dorks recording themselves watching this ad, and neither comments on the fact that an enormous Dr. Mario capsule is fantasizing about vomiting cocaine onto their glowing crotchal regions. I mean first of all, that’s a terrible waste of money right there. You spent all those greater american dollars getting the stuff just to smear it on your mystery spot? Even if it’s ground up tiger horn China’s foremost black-market charlatan sorcerers agree you don’t use it that way. You could smear anything there and get pretty much the same effect. Marketers need to learn to properly represent their product.

If Lipozene can help me become a creepily drawn robot fighting robot machine, it should be evident from the simulation.

But I was in the midst of another digression. I thought upon a limerick and I thought upon a riddle, I started on a story but I stopped it in the middle.
Over the centuries, rhino horns have been carved into ceremonial cups, as well as buttons, belt buckles, hair pins, and paperweights.

I understand that The West owes much of its extravagant ways to the production and use of Chinese imports, but I had sort of hoped specialty belt-buckles for scum-buzzles was a uniquely American tradition. Can’t I have civic pride in anything? Also, oh, gee, the wind keeps scattering my paper around. I can’t decide whether I should close the window or kill a giant animal so I can chop off part of its nose.

But what do I know? Ask a reputed expert on the matter. What else aren’t you telling me, Josh?

Nobody I know has a website anymore

Mr. Sr. Mxy
Gilhodes (bah you need a facebook account to see)
video game music database
pacific novelty
Green Lantern Head Trauma

them`s fightin` woids: August 8, 2020
Charmlatan sez:
Ah, maybe things can be more peaceful with the dope restricted, I want to imagine. Stay sane!
August 8, 2020
Frimpinheap sez:
Stay sane is definitely a more applicable well-wish. If the dope were listening and...
August 8, 2020
Charmlatan sez:
However, could the dope(s) ear be getting bigger because it simply wants to listen? If so, what...
August 8, 2020
Charmlatan sez:
But what if passively wishing you safety is the only thing keeping the Dope of Darkness at bay?
August 7, 2020
pindohodo sez:
That’s too bad! Losing your electricity is a whole lot of no fun, since most of the fun...
July 21, 2020
Frimpinheap sez:
Thank you for approving! I don’t like to compare this to an “alpha build”...
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