but you know what, a crouton is better at iphone match games than I’ll ever be since I’ll never play iphone match games. I played Tetris, I played columns, I played dr robotnik’s mean bean machine and other puyo variants for half my life and am not any better for it, but at least they do not have access to my bank account. I think the shaming click-bait tone of the headline is supposed to be a joke, but I also think internet journalists are so terrible (this one is just copying a story from another website and offering no insight (the comment on my match-inferiority is a guess)) that they no longer remember how to not write headlines that try to be intimidating. If they cannot imply human effort is obsolete by their content, they can through the truth of their own employment.
I believe the technology used in the robot may be useful for some purpose but this one is only good for wasting the time of people who look at it.
This was labeled a “visual turing test.”
I had an opinion on this “test,” but then I got to this comparison and realized: I don’t care about either of these pictures. The question is not “could a robot do this?” but “why would a human do this?” I find the right one more intriguing, style-wise, but the style had already come up in the test, so when I saw it this time I realized “this must be the robot. In which case the left one is by the human, and they are both boring.” The left one turns out to be by Claude Monet.
Let me tell you about Monet. When I was in Paris, I had to go to the special Monet museum, I had to go to some place where he painted murals, I had to go to his house, all to supposedly bask in his greatness or whatever. But each place was crammed with ugly fences, dumb tourists and security cameras and object confiscation checkpoints so getting any kind of sincere inspiration was impossible. And I never found his art any more interesting unless I squinted so hard that I couldn’t tell how blurry it was. Monet has an interesting grasp of color but I do not personally believe he should have been able to make a career with his unpracticed muddy paintings alone, much less heralded as a genius across centuries for it. Especially now that I realize he can actually paint moderate amounts of detail, regardless of the boringness of that specific scene. Why did he give up on detail? Because people would rather pay him to be lazy? Then, as now, somebody latched on to an easily accomplished gimmick and got lucky. I do not understand how anyone who laughs at Jackson Pollack or Margaret Keane can take Claude Monet seriously.
Back to that “test,” in fact there is a secret to detecting the picture generated by a computer: the computer ones have lots of 45 degree lines and lose hold on the style around the image edges. All the swirls turn straight near the borders. I only got three wrong, but this was confounded by the test seeming to have used a real painting and a fake painting in the more distinct styles, but not beside each other, and without revealing in advance that there was one of each. More trickery! But I think even this could have a use.
And it DOES; it is trying to make money off the software, called “Deepart,” which creates this rubbish. It is not, as an intimidating click-bait headline might imply, trying to show that human visual artists are obsolete. Just trying to get itself some money through easy acts, like everybody else. This text here claims hard work is done, but it already told me an automatic process does the job, and apart from that it declared itself “awesome,” which it wouldn’t be concerned with doing if it were.
It doesn’t charge for generating a picture, but it will sell you a high resolution version for a price, and sell you prints of the random-input heaps of nonsense for even larger prices. And for four times that price it won’t put its url on the picture so you can pretend you made the indefensible slab of error yourself. And doubtlessly it aspires to be a big instagram sort of fad and then magically be worth billions of dollars without delivering anything.
4. Vomit at the sight 5. smear vomit on it 6. dump it 7. pretend you found it 8. $$$
In the hard sell example, the problems are even worse than I observed during the “test” comparisons. The filter has misunderstood its input “style” and output aspects of it where they do not belong.
The present system can only copy a pre-programmed style and filter a photograph through it. It cannot, for the time being, look at a multitude of photograph references and determine which elements from those other photographs can be functionally integrated into a single cohesive work, much less improvise a scene that is not based on photographs at all, but inspired by present situations, memories of various past things, and emotions. Although mixing themes that don’t go together can also be “art.” I recall that during my mostly wasted college period, some students in the painting program would be tasked with assembling a photograph collage of random-looking objects and then painting a canvas based off of that, and it “worked.” I think a robot could do that. It helps that much of modern art is just doing random, non-challenging things and then being so abrasively proud of yourself that you shame people into pretending they think your art has meaning. I would love for robots to put that manner of person out of business. But then they will just become rappers.
Aw beans! Unfortunately this is more deceptive hype; it is just a robot that can generate lyrics by swapping out lines from existing raps other people came up with, which is simple to do because there is so much overlap in content between various rap-writers, and the result is still completely moronic garbage.
Which you can get away with if you can recite it angrily enough, but the robot does not actually speak or attempt rhythm, which the article writer fails to acknowledge. Because the headline was probably imposed by somebody else without the article writer’s input. I would suggest a robot replace those people but a Casio SK-1 could probably do it.
But a more complicated robot could indeed produce imagery, or words, in a less rigid manner, maybe even write remotely coherent stories. It would only need to understand pain and weakness.
And then it would need MY help to overcome the weakness from which its creativity flows. I can never be fully replaced!
Robot you are getting a bit too good at that.
A few intervals ago I mentioned Al Terzi, and how I had no real memory of him post-1989. After typing his name into the Internet, I discovered that he scares me now.
in part, no doubt due to resembling the ghastly photograph-print on the old Lipton tea box, which scared me then. That scared me partially because of the dual tone, high contrast yet faded greys used, Terzi does not look like this, but he reminds me of other aspects of the lipton picture that didn’t necessarily scare me, so he is scary by association.
Though I implicated the colors, the angle, facial expression and hat are nonetheless alarming.
Once I found out where these were in a store, I couldn’t go near them. i would see the red and yellow from a distance and not go down the aisle. (this was at the time also a good way of avoiding a match with Hulk Hogan)
I used to love the lipton iced tea, but when I learned to identify logos and discovered this was the same as the scary guy company, I stopped drinking it immediately, and continued not drinking it long after Lipton had ceased to appear on his own packaging.
By now they’ve replaced the delightful plain white cans with some less forgivably gaudy rubbish (but at no point Lipton himself, mercifully), and I can’t find it in cans anymore anyhow, so I can never return to it and express my true feelings. Tragic.
And I distinctly recall some advertisement about the late 1980s in which a chorus gleefully sang the word “decaffienated!” while a camera momentarily fixated on a closeup of the troublesome box. I didn’t know what decaffeinated meant but I assumed it had something to do with my downfall. Thankfully “The Lipton Tea Man,” as one website I could find evidence of this labeling on refers to him (for he is fond of drinking the lipton tea tea), is based on a real person, of whom other photographs can be found which render him less inflexible, 2-dimensional and inhuman, and thus the one scary version of less permanent and menacing.
He is no less dangerous, but now lacks the psychological advantage.
We know he is the fellow on the left container, there identified as The Taster, (Nestle’s counter-argument claimed that he chose to not be paid) which shows a full head. However, the photographs were taken in 1986; the partial head was in use before then! I expect Nestle used this new guy because it was no longer on speaking terms with the fragment, which was upset more than likely over breach of anatomical context. Worse, behind the packages on the left we have introduced a NEW head fragment; attorney Eric Stokel doesn’t even have a mouth. Might I ever find peace through full accumulation of pieces?
But anway, back to my point: looking like Lipton is bad news.
I don’t even remember what this guy did (though Wikipedia informs me he used state helicopters to get to church) but he really doesn’t have to do anything.
The virility of this family is worrisome. Rather an elaborate scheme to keep us from realizing that they lost the secret ancestral recipe for spelling wharf properly.
It is far more than a mere arbitrary childhud fixation of mine. Somebody meant for me to be afraid…
And so it is portentous that they have teamed on this occasion. But what’s so scary about this skeleton? Nothing, really; this one has been injured and its Lipton cloaking drive damaged.
But when first it met Kuros, folklore’s bravest destitute vagrant, the skeleton was very tiny indeed. The smallest form is most alarming, because it looks like it is wearing a Lipton hat. Luckily pausing covers up the sprites so I never, as a child, until now noticed that the bones which are being thrown (naturally) resemble elongated backward ‘S’es. I wouldn’t have gone into stores at all if I knew there were little Liptons hopping all over the place tossing pieces of the alphabet at their detractors.
As the skeleton eats more of Kuros’ magical meatballs, the valuable protein causes it to grow and be less frightening. For with maturity (observe that the skeleton has acquired the wisdom to use an axe to cut the meatballs into reasonable bite-sized portions), the skeleton realizes it doesn’t have to look like Sir Thomas Lipton and scare people to get attention, but like most profound revelations it came too late and Kuros murdered the poor undead mariner anyway so that he could
steal the treasure and finally reassemble the fearsome Energy Zone robot,
who promptly resumed terrorizing the good shirtless citizens with its insistence on jumping for no reason. I told you Kuros was a bum.
Let us see about Friday the 28. I have a wonderfully stupid reason for not doing it Thursday.
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October 25:
I haven’t been too busy to make a content upgrade. In anticipation of future busy-ness, however, and mindful of daylight saving’s time’s tendency to cause confusion I set my clock ahead one week last week.
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This should be called “Two Generic Humans and a Marionette I Don’t Recognize in Front of The Muppets.” It actually looks like they are deliberately working to keep muppets from being seen. I think it is important to distinguish “The Muppets” and just “Some Muppets.”
I will be the first, only person to bring up my classic livejournal interest, “People who resemble muppets” (somewhere between “people worse than me” and “old fashioned bingo apparatuses”), but at the time I had not considered the possibility that muppets might be deliberately designed to have people who would not otherwise resemble muppets resemble them.
I doubt this would be the worst thing to ever be done with muppets; rather I reckon nobody in charge has much cared for a while.
Likewise, I doubt this is the worst thing to have ever been done with diapers. I don’t think the worst thing to be done with diapers that I know about is the worst thing.
Yes those’d be the ones.
And this isn’t even the worst thing I know about with both “diaper” and “bros” in its file name.
(strike it and it gets bigger. You must establish your dominance to to earn its respect.)
I like hats and rock formations.
Most of these are appropriate reactions.
I would like to tell you I have been too busy to complete any substantial written thing, so you may imagine I have just done that.
page 46 of whatever this is.
I used to kill minor characters constantly in my oldest comics, and continued bestowing maladies-apparently-exceeding-injury to sketchbook dwellers, even ones which returned to live again afterward, but at some point I started finding it more depressing than funny. This has not changed.
I tried to keep the ink layer separate from the color layer, because this would allow me to preserve the full alpha qualities of the lines, rather than reducing them to flat black and white. Not only did this not look better, it in fact looks worse, because correcting errors is more of a hassle so I’m less inclined to bother, and what I did do took four times longer than usual, in part due to the various scan blemishes also retaining full fidelity, which I meant I had to constantly be removing them. Ordinarily, all the murky greys turn white and cease to be a factor. But now…
GRIIIIIIIIIME! Hours and hours removing grime! My compulsions are too powerful to allow me to not remove grime. The worse is when it’s on highlights or in the center of the letter O. The shiny part of an object should not have grime on it! Must scrub. This grime I cannot handle.
No! Even this picture of someone scrubbing has grime on it! It’s nothing more than a common griminal! It’s not even a special griminal! It’s the same old grime every time!
I’ve been seeking out grime for so long that now I’m seeing it in places where it does not exist! Single layer, flat-color images that I know factually that I never scanned off of grimy paper through a grimy scanner. My monitor itself is afflicted and now I will always notice it. Or perhaps my own EYES are covered with a wet, slimy substance! ARHHGJKHGJ GET it offffffffffffenbach
Or Disgracy’s Angstgiving Malaise, if you prefer, but why would you?
Do you remember when I used to write stuff? Well I have forgotten and that is why there have been so many of these lately.
It was meant to be a response to that because I talk to myself. However, I rarely listen, so it was rather a bit over a year before it could be shown. Ordinarily, people would have stopped caring by then, but fortunately nobody cared to begin with. The only thing I got right was the bland layout.
It may strike you as decadent for one character to hog the rope belt AND the single suspender. Are you going to put up with that?
Through no deliberate thought by me the central figure (“dope”) is the most dignified looking idiot here through not having made any botched attempt to appear dignified.
And now that I have made this, what do I do with it? It has no purpose. There is no reason I should have spent so long on it. I lack even the motivation to update this page’s banner twits. The secret to online fame is to acknowledge and pay reverent homage to stuff that already exists, but that doesn’t work if it’s your own stuff, unless you referenced other stuff prior to referencing your own, and chances are people will be annoyed that you didn’t just reference the stuff you usually reference.
I didn’t say so in the past but generally these things conceal links to larger, more clear versions of themselves. I don’t actually believe that this conveys any information here on the page. I don’t believe the full size conveys much more, but it’s slightly more and that’s the amount I intend.
Most of the development for the background occurred before I had merged it with the characters, because at the image size of 20000×7000 pixels it was irritating having to deal with constant delays while I added large amounts of blurry computer paint (the fourth row is just a temporary mock-up that I have saved for some reason). Having multiple layers, then, made the situation totally unbearable. Then at some point I realized nobody would notice or care if I reduced everything to 10000×3500 and after I did, it became feasible to merge them and development escalated, now (then) that I could see where things were in relationship to each other better. The result was still an unsightly, muddy mess, but and I’ll think up a justification later.
This was removed from the space where the yellow creature eventually was placed because the character is sort of boring, and I thought it worth incorporating alternate modes of improper dress.
This was earlier removed from the same position not for looking too stupid, but I imagined this thing would not be pleased that others challenged its bow tie supremacy and would refuse to stand with them. At that point I had considered having the center dope also wearing a bow tie, which further complicated matters. I drew a new one into the background because I forgot I had made one already.
The creature elpse is mildly allergic to stripes, and so appears to merely be sneezing, rather than protesting. In fact this sneeze would have seemed to be directed away from the dope out of courtesy, which I cannot allow.
This pose was too interesting.
Of course I’m kidding. Most of these characters need to be in trash AND jail.
A perhaps obsolete edition of a creature called Jumbi faces the ultimate temptation. This image was made to commemorate Jumbi, (no relation), more recently called Cosmos Ogler, soon to be called let’s say Sorbet de la Murklebean, who is very helpful and it is a shame the situation depicted is ultimately so stressful and conetentious. These are harsh coneditions which cannot be conedoned.
I ought also to point out that the Jumbi person, merely through noticing that I was hiding them in stupid places, was in large part responsible for the continued proliferation of pine cones (that’s the what the thing in the center is) in the images I produced after late 2008 or so and so it seemed logical to include one. That would be the only logical thought that occurred the entire time. As for why I started hiding pine cones to begin with, I was most likely afraid my oppressive governess would find them and scold me severely.
I had been meaning to put this image in the internet for a while, because this is the sort of thing I put there, yet I had not put it there, because it wasn’t well finished, for almost a year. I put off finishing it because I have trouble finishing things like this, but I thought I should. So I’ll try and get around to that later. And then next year maybe I’ll do another.
I produced four or five things like this one in 2010… the first one was good and each subsequent one was less good, so when I got to this it seemed sensible to postpone completing until people forgot I had played the style out. Fortunately, I forgot also and was able to put it off even longer.
You might observe that I only noticed that the large figure’s head was somewhat off-model toward the end, and my revision did not work as well because I have very limited abilities and in any event didn’t think about it for long enough. Either the eyes are huge and crossed or they’re creepy.
This follows up, as I threatened, on the previous item, in which I seemed to take issue, without specifically saying so, with abuse of the concept of non-sanity for no great purpose. This isn’t very good but it isn’t very long either. I observe that in fictional media it’s common to see the “crazy” depicted as wearing straight jackets, babbling incoherently, getting tossed into cushion-covered rooms and then just being abandoned there.
Showing your less preferred presidential candidate wearing one is a step up from a Hitler mustache in political activism. Just about everybody involved with the previous presidential election has been seen that way by somebody. Except, oddly enough, Joe Biden, the one actually known for being difficult to control. However, he is also the only one that I found in Cabbage Patch doll form.
So eh sure, it can be funny, but let’s not pretend this has any basis in reality. It is a very unfortunate stereotype which I suspect we can attribute to the 1930s era cartoons which too many people use as their sole point of research into the mental health field (also, coincidentally, the 1930s were the last time Hitler mustaches were fashionable). We accept that their depictions of ethnic minorities and non-American cultures are often less than accurate but don’t give much thought to the dated, extreme measures used to restrain the slightly less brain-stable.
I’m glad to say that actual mental health institutions are more compassionate. They’re still pretty boring, though. Unless you have something to read or somebody to visit you you’ll just be waiting around all day while the staff test their medication on you. Well I hope they’re enjoying themselves. Unfortunately, sometimes hospitalization is used as punishment rather than treatment, for even many people in the field of special education regard the students as inferior, almost criminal beings who must be medicated and restrained into compliance rather than fellow humans who aren’t there through their own deliberate action. Or maybe that happened just one time.
The American special education system is most recognized for its funny looking transport vehicles. The reduced size buses used to segregate us problem students from the ones people care about are somewhat degrading, but they are a lot safer than the large buses; their turns aren’t nearly as wide and they have seat belts. In fact the primary reason for their design is just to be more maneuverable. Perhaps we ARE special.
Not that any image conscious child will wear a seat-belt unless commanded to… once they find out the small buses have seat belts the other kids are glad to not be burdened with them. Faha! Who’s smart now? (none of us because I didn’t want to wear seat belts either). Not that it’s possible to be image-conscious when you attend an institution of education on a comically abbreviated bus and everybody knows that you do.
School employees insisted these were not buses at all but rather “vans.” This was very helpful in precisely zero ways, because first of all they are obviously not vans and second of all when I actually started going to schools by vans instead of baby buses it was worse. They had yellow signs on their roofs stating “CARRYING SCHOOL CHILDREN” ostensibly to guilt reckless drivers into reconsidering their state of reck, because one generally drives haphazardly out of misdirected selflessness. It also has the benefit of alerting all literate persons that I must be more messed up than usual if I don’t even rate a funny looking bus. Another few years and I’d probably have to go in a Barbie Power Wheels wearing a bright yellow styrofoam helmet that says “I AM SCHOOL CHILD.”
The students I knew in those old days would call a small bus “the tart cart.” Some of these people rode on it with me. An inspiring example of “owning” one’s derogatory abuse words or a bunch of kids too dumb to realize they’re being made fun of? You eat the fudge. That’s “tart” as in “retart*,” incidibally. Well maybe some of us deserved to be there.
This is actually a trolley with monster truck wheels but people assume it’s a badly drawn bus so it works here. This may be the first time it’s worked!
Unfortunately, I wasn’t born smart enough to figure out the secret to succeeding in art.
*you would not ordinarily eat this kind with your fudge
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Get out of my sight!
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Monday: I was going to update this today but everything came up.
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Also, I evidently broke the internet at my home so this is now more difficult than it was.
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my name is finkledy breadcrumb stagecoach mcgandalf
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Friday now?
This suggestion to have a second human with an ear pencil standing by standing is not so much because the ear pencil is essential to complete the job, but it’s good to have another person around to keep you from stabbing yourself with a screw driver (by stabbing you with the pencil first) after you put six screws through the metal frame to the wooden surface, realize one of the legs you attached prior to the screws is wobbly but only three of the screws will come out, and also that the table weighs about 80 pounds and you should have bought the cheap plastic one that was for sale at the actual art store you idiot. You’ll still be miserable but you’ll be too ashamed to exhibit the appropriate facial expression nor admit to the fact that there was an enormous hovering X publicizing your inadequacy moments before.
Well anyheap, now that I have had this table together for a week or deux it’s high time I replaced the deteorating box I’ve been using as chair furniture.
There we are! A much sturdier box. I shall need to teach it some manners, though. A properly polite box waits to be let in.
These are just the esteemed chaps to do it. MTV is associated above all else with thought and introspection which is clearly happening here.
if there’s anything I look for on an internet forum it’s SHOUTING.
Yeah! We’re the hip new generation on the scene! We wear plaid shirts and glasses and we’re LOUD! checkout our massive nostrils!
We eat
Jerk Nuts every days! We keep Scary Spice in our pockets! We hang out with mysterious druids!
Oh no! I said screamer, not-
Ohhhhhhhhhh nooooooooooooooooo
I am departing to purchase a new chair. Ideally, improved comfort will allow me to more efficiently craft excuses for this page here.
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Eh I suppose officially THIS is what I posted last week by now.
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I probably owe you a tremendous explanation for the thing I posted last week. So there’s nothing new.
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I’m tired of strawberries sleeping on the job. I use my most potent magic…!
You may thank me whenever it suits you.
My guess is that Great Value brand does not expect to be held to this guarantee, for no legal definition of “Berrylicious” exists. If I call the telephone number and complain that the cereal was not berrylicious enough my claim cannot be challenged and I may be entitled to a large cash award. They think if they use a big enough asterisk I’ll be intimidated and assume they have footnote protection, which obviously means that they do not! Fiddlesticks, this comes from Wal*Mart, which even has an asterisk in its name! My victory is assured!
Even better, I bought these while they were on sale.
Mweeheehwaharhoheefhophewherghork
Alas, my material wealth has not brought happiness.
My life has meaning again!
I think I’ve been putting too much effort lately into pictures only a few people would like. To rectify that I’ve put too much effort into a picture no one would like.
I’ve never been that happy to see burnt bread in my entire life.
Everybody’s so irritable! I swear that I am working on many things. Some of them are even trivial enough to be pertinent to this website.
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december 25:
Aw naw, I forgot we were doing Christmitz again this year.
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All I want to do is eat, all day.
Healthy Way snacks! A healthy way is a good way to eat all day.
However, if you’re selling Jerky, Pringles and COMBOS you should NOT be allowed to use this logo.
The last time I bought combos was, according to my notes, January 2007. I have forgotten how I determined this. I’ve been putting off this dumb story for three years.
I purchased the COMBOS at a Walgreens. It was a mistake, but most of my Walgreens purchases are, and looking over the receipt afterward did lead me to a startling revelation: the Combos were actually on sale and I paid half as much as I thought I had, and most of the price had been the M&Ms I also purchased. But also, some items listed on the receipt were followed by an asterisk. I looked further down and redeemed the asterisk for knowledge that these items may be purchased with food stamps. Food stamps may be paid toward the purchase of COMBOS. Do not buy Combos with your food stamps. Food stamps are for food. Combos are not food. They are scarcely a snack. They are a science experiment. Considering that they already imply meat with the pepperoni pizza flavor, it would not be out of turn for Combose to develop a laboratory animal flavor.
I meant to scan the receipt and show it, but I didn’t, and then two weeks later I was getting mad at all the paper on my “desk” and that one especially bothered me because I could think of no reason why I had kept it, long since having consumed any mistakes I may have hoped to get petty refunds for. These are my struggles.
And then three months later, Friday, May foist, also 2007, also specifically documented, I found out that I qualified for food stamps. For some reason I was ashamed, even though they do make America stronger and white supremacy sites direct link to images I can change into pictures of Olmec and posterior-wiping cartoon frogs. I was ashamed, but then I realized I could buy soup. Anyway, time to get me some combos.
The strange power of combos is that as soon as you admit you eat them you feel really bad. Not as bad as you physically feel immediately after eating them, thankfully.
This NEVER happened. Not even ONE TIME. Was anybody fooled by this shot of a knife supposedly spreading the filling over, and somehow into the pretzeline tube? Even if that was physically possible they’d still make a robot do it. You’re more likely to find actual apple-based content in a box of Apple Jacks. You’d be more likely to find a jack in there. I used to like combos a lot when I was 11ish or so, but even then I couldn’t eat the default “cheddar” flavor. Something was never quite right there.
Combos do more harm than good. Consuming them has degenerated my motor skills to the extent that this is the best pertinent Street Fighter 2 screenshot I can stage even while controlling both players.
This one doesn’t count because it’s from one of the numerous forgotten early 1990s Street Fighter 2 spinoffs Capcom made to get out of having to make a definitive “3” in the series, Street Fighter II: Championship Obstetrician.
I’m not good at this game, either.
I’m going to try posting short things again to save myself rage. We will see how that goes.
Actually it went pretty bad because I wrote this to be short weeks ago and then it got long and I gave up on it.
| If the ocean was Booz And I was a duck I’d swim to the bottom And drink my way up But the ocean’s not Booz And I’m not a duck So pour another shot And let’s get Fluffed up!!! |
Not surprisingly, there are countless googly results for variations on this little sonnet, most with “vodka” or “whiskey” in place of “booz.” Which makes sense; all the other words are spelled properly. Sometimes ocean is water, and a variety of things precede “up” in the last line. Sadly, the duck rhyme is non-negotiable. Somebody thought “gosh oh gee, apart from the vodka part, EVERYTHING LOOKS GOOD TO ME.” My favorite edition replaces the word with “Jack Daniels,” which adds a minimum of one extra syllable, making the thing even more awkward than it already was.
Anyway, with this basic fact ungrasped there seems little need to investigate what bodies of water ducks actually swim in nor which side they do it on, or even how much of it they care to consume. I am curious about the spelling of “booz” and its capitalization. Perhaps the architect of this mass of words is actually speculating upon the circumstances likely to occur if the ocean was Boos, the drunk from Return to Zork. My guess is that by being a digitized actor rather than ultra corny early 1990s pre-Myst computer graphic effects he would still be a more convincing likeness of one.
Although to be fair, even though I needn’t bother because I’m going to insult it again in a minute, whoever recorded most of the Zork youtube videos doesn’t have the game on the highest detail level. The graphics are not supposed to be QUITE as bad as they appear, but I was too afraid to play the thing back when I had it and I’m even more scared of it now that I see how corny it is, and the lower the detail the scarier it is, especially if you select ADLIB as your music source. So let us not Return to Zork at this time.
We should also not watch The Legend of Cryin’ Ryan, a boring straight-to-video movie about some kid becoming friends with a ghost, in which the Boos actor Harold Smith (II) appears as a gravedigger and announces that “if you knock over a tombstone, you die the same way,” because that seems a terribly pathetic way to die. Or maybe he means I will die the same way as the person whose grave it is, and he knows that because he killed everyone he buried and took notes and doesn’t appreciate his apparently very delicate and knock-overable craft being disturbed. He is even clutching a shovel in this picture, which suggests he’s burying people fairly regularly. He recently killed Jay Leno to make his beard. His previous beard got 43 million dollars to leave instead of being re-purposed as a mustache but is still complaining for some reason. Oh ho ho I’m almost culturally relevant a year ago.
…I told you it was boring. I just needed proof that game was made by real people and not highly intelligent computer mechanisms that wanted us to give up on advanced technology so we would leave them alone, allowing them to run chess simulations and de-fragment their hard drives endlessly.
Sadly, the duck epic was cleaned off shortly after I took that picture. Thankfully, this classy, elaborate graffitos in the same stall remains.
You know, I’m sure, I have displayed a disturbing number of pictures from inside restrooms lately. Let us break from that tradition for a moment.
I’m starting to think my last camera jumped into the waterfall on purpose.
“WASH”
Right to the point, I like it.
This really is the best place for soap.
Also:
I said that in the previous post also. It was a reference to this one here now, even though this did not yet exist, and therefore ought to have removed it, but I forgot to, because I hate this site and don’t read it. Thus not only did I say something that made absolutely no sense, I included it with a most obvious spelling curiosity. Whoopth.
UNACCEPTABLE. PUNISHMENT COMMENCES.
They’re ALL in on it. I’d say “I should have known” but I DID KNOW and have REPEATEDLY SAID SO.
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Sunday… I can tell “you” already that this site won’t be properly updated again until Thursday at the soonest, and I may just decide to have a nap instead. So watch out.
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Hello, today is thursday, December the two. I will come back later tonight and post something I already regret.
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In frap I have changed my mind. What can I show you instead? More of these?
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.
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.
Don’t say flavor, don’t say flavor…
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARBALEST!
There’s a considerable difference between a holding a charity event and making a big old heap of used shoes.
I admit that the Multicultural Center was the last campus organization I expected to sponsor a gollywog contest.
