The Dapsy Dino Family. They are one series of collectible figurines out of… too many. They were at one point found inside little plastic eggs which could be purchased in many countries besides this one. And I guess people bought them.
While I pointed out in the past that a certain pair of crocs were most certainly not cool, it is only fair to mention that their honorable ancestor Dribbelino was also not cool. Or at least not as much as any of the
CHiNESE-BEAVER. You may know them better as
les de CHiNEE-CHiN. I must give special recognition to SAM URAI, bridging cultural stereotype boundaries by naming himself after one of the outdated things westerners habitually associate with Japan instead. What we learn here is that it’s not insensitive to depict Asian people as having ridiculous over-bites if you imagine them as animals which look like that anyway. It might also help to choose one that’s known to inhabit parts of Asia, but I may just be misinformed in my belief that these aren’t. For some reason I’m hesitant to investigate any of the results for my “asian beaver” google search. But anyway.
There’s simply no comparison to be made.
As for why Dribbelino is spinning volleyballs, traditionally neither subjects of dribbling nor spinning upon limited surfaces in attempts to impress onlookers, that is yet a mystery.
By the roy, DAPSY DINOS should not be confused with
DROLLY DINOS, who don’t delude themselves into thinking they know how to dress properly.
Huh? Hweh? What’s that? Ah, you are observant.
FANNY FITNESS is indeed connected to an apparatus called LADY SHAKER. I’m glad you noticed.
Getting back to my original point, I think the croc’s problem was that they misrepresented themselves. While throughout time evidence has proven that crocs cannot be cool, they can be CRAZY.
Ever in denial, the CRAZY CROCOS tried to convince me that I’m the crazy one, that it’s somehow my problem, that oh no, that’s just the way things are in the city, for
CITY CROCOS. Sure, pal. Everyone knows CONNY CRAZY is not named LISA RAP. That would be stupid. Obviously I wasn’t having that so I sent them promptly back to
KROKOSCHULE to learn better manners.
I’ve made a couple jokes at the expense of the characters’ names, but no one can touch
CROCOCROK. Why would you want to?
Next week: SQUALIBABA meets a whale on a toilet. Or probably not.
As for Capital Eli himself, his scary website uses the same logo but says very little about the soda and seems primarily intended to exhibit a too-small javascript window comic strip with fairly unreadable text (And these days my preferred screen resolution of 1024×768 is considered to be at the low-end). Imagine Bazooka Joe with delusions of magnificence, except you have to go to a website to see it, and you probably won’t because it’s scary, and even if you do you won’t know what’s going on. The Shipyard Brewing Company, which makes the soda, likewise does not mention the comic strip on its own website. Through it, though, you can order a box of twelve twelve twelve twelve ounce Eli Capitan soda bottles for $34.95, barely a bargain over what I paid for one, and we have no guarantee that they are full bottles.
For the picture stories is offered an email subscription service, even though it started in 2004 and not 1994. I presume this brings forth bigger, readabler pages, but I’m only presuming that and that it wouldn’t affect past “””webisodes,””” though I doubt they’re all that good anyway.
The character artwork appears passable enough –considering that the “meet the artist” page includes mumble mumble co-creator mumble internationally distributed mumble *cough* mumble mumble world¹s first disabled superheroes, The Scrap City Pack Rats, we probably could do worse. And verily that’s a tiny 1 instead of an apostrophe–
Ehhh! So the drawings don’t seem all that terrible, though if you’re bringing out the lame photoshop filler techniques for your cover image I have to question your dedication to quality, especially if the best backdrop you can find looks like
Doom II’s ASHWALL4 colored blue. Sure, GRAYPOIS or SP_DUDE7 would have been worse, but I prefer to discuss what could be done to improve things. For example, Doom has plenty of pretty sky graphics that would work.
As for hokey, noncomplex computer graphic models, I nominate that we save those for CBS News simulations of planned NASA missions. There’s really no sense to it if its non animated.
But I’m being unfair, as often happens. The effects on the inside, generally, are much better…
those people, however, are starting to freak me out. I concede that numerous online comic strips have utilized similar artistic anti-methods for humorous effect, and sometimes even succeeded, but this here is not meant to be funny, I don’t think. Though Eeleye is an apparent orphan, his plight was not brought about by a bright green tyrannosaurus stepping on his house, that’s all I’m saying.
Me, I may not be able to piece together a coherent story, I may not be capable of incorporating realistic, relate-to-able issues, I may not be able to read books on philosophy long enough to find the good non-sequitur fodder, I may not be able to draw a straight line, but by gummybear I’ll take hours and hours to get anything done. I pledge this to you.
Someone who appears to be the same author has uploaded a promotional clip through the youtube. In addition to being animated in the slightest, it features inappropriate use of one of my favorite musics, Gustav Holst’s (watch out, this is more noise) Jupiter: The Bringer of Jollity.
But I still prefer that to using music I hate and that has words in it unrelated to the visual content. I have filed the proper information requests with Neldo Headquarters to confirm that I do officially feel that way.
The site claims its “saga” begins in this story, although below it there is another one labelled as “first,” evidently by a different author. One who could draw backgrounds. One who could, but gave up on it a few pages in.
It’s hard to say if replacing this person was worth the trouble.
Capt’n Eli’s Lemon Lime soder. That’s Capt’n Eli, not Cap’n Eli or, yikes, Captain Eli. Then we’d be in a fix, all right. Capt, like those stupid tests I used to have to take at school.
When I asked for this beverage at Boothbay Harbor’s notorious Wannawaf, the only establishment I had ever seen it offered, the serving person seemed appalled. As if she wanted to say “why not just get Mountain Dew? It’s two dollars less and the bottles are bigger.” I didn’t know my soda cost two dollars more; the sign simply stated “bottled soda: $1.00.” It did not say “popular bottled soda: $1.00, struggling regional bilge: $whatever we tell you”
For the record, this record, Capt‘n Ellis wasn’t as good as green Foxon Park soda, which is cheaper and available in towns with good pizza, but plenty better than Mountain Dew. I don’t know if it was necessarily two dollars better, but it was the only public soft-drink I had the whole week I was in Maine, if I don’t count un-pre-sweetened iced teas, and I didn’t. Booth Bay Harbor is Pepsi country. The only Coca-Cola I saw was in the few non-Pepsi vending machines or ah Rite Aid. I may have been partly grateful at the lack of temptation to place such horrible things inside me, but, oh, such a fool I was! I didn’t realize how health beneficial Coke drinking was.
Whether it’s your first coke of the day, or your second, or your thirteenth, experts agree soda contains liquid ingredients. Apparently a study into the harmful effects of soda was commissioned after people drinking soda experienced harmful effects. Which is ridiculous. As long as you keep pouring it down your neck pipes, the inside of you won’t have time to dry up.
Wannawaf, for your further information, has, as its specialty, ice cream served upon warm, soft belgium style waffles. It’s the sort of thing that local publications, well to do residents and dopey tourism guides will praise whenever prompted as being a unique and wonderful highlight of the area, something so wonderful that only doesn’t expand internationally out of humility and the belief that its personal signature attention to quality cannot be maintained on such a grand scale.
In actuality, though, at least from the one I had, the waffle and the ice cream both would have tasted better separate and I already told you the clerk didn’t leave me feeling oh so welcome. So I don’t, in fact, wannawaf! PWAH HAH HAH HAF HIF HIF HURRR… (weep). I guess this is for people who eat chocolate chip pancakes and chocolate steaks and chocolate whatever the Funk and Wagnalls else other things shouldn’t be made with chocolate.
Oh, oh, and I finally had a look/hear at that stupid “chocolate rain” bit all the popular people assume I’ve already had several looks/hears at, and I don’t understand. The tune is five seconds long and seems to repeat endlessly. I say seems because I couldn’t stand to listen for four whole minutes regardless of what absurd mass-quotable nonsense Mr. Zay Taydon Potate Bacon or whoever is zaying. I gave up less than half way through. Sure, I’d show that to everyone. Great job giving another moderately talented bozo a career, Internet! I tried listening to another of the man’s songs, and it seemed an improvement, but again I lacked the endurance to see/hear it through. And I made this, for the sake of snakes.
I’ve drawn some embarrassing pictures over the years, and I hide them, but it occurs to me that when I get sent to crazy prison, for good this time, my personal archaeologists will probably be amused/horrified a lot more by all the stupid, simple, mundane things I never got rid of. Hopefully my 1991 Nintendo Power magazines will be gone by then.
There is a bag of “flavor twists” fritos in front of me which for whatever reason I didn’t finish, and I’m sure they must be stale by now, but I can’t see to their disposal until I check for certain. I keep thinking “well, the ones below the surface might not be totally stale yet, so…” and then I leave it there some more. As I type, or rather inbetween bursts of that, I am emptying several Wendy’s salt packlets into a larger container.
I’ve too often heard the warning: “don’t judge a book by its cover.” Aren’t I meant to judge a book by its cover? If the cover bears a picture and a title? Even if the author did not choose and even hated the cover image, whoever did pick it up intended that I get some idea from it. So there.
You could judge an audio book by an audio cover, but there aren’t audio covers! Sometimes I will awake with a thought that seems terribly profound, and will insist on writing it somewhere immediately. On one occasion the thought was about audio books. And there you are.
I love reading April editions of magazines in March. It’s like looking into the future. Otherwise, why the elk are they labelled like that? It’s a bit like when I go to an Australian website and it tells me the time is 10 am the next day. I’m just kidding, of course. I hate magazines.
Why, on keyboards, is O so close to 0? That needlessly complicates things.
Did Jackson Pollock have a washing machine, or did he sell all his paint-soiled clothes? If he did that, he could easily afford to buy new ones.
Not only does the Bat-Man lack superpowers, the fake ears are an increased liability
My pain is magenta.
Few phrases make me less want to eat than “mouth-watering.” I’ve never known there to be so many ads in circulation at the same time using that line. I’ve heard it for steak, for gum, and for beer, but one of these days it’s going to be made to refer to a thing I’d actually want, and then I’m not going to anymore. I know plant watering means to pour water into a plant. How am I supposed to eat food when some twunk is standing over me with a watering can?
Is there a better phrase for “watering can?” It sounds like the name of an Asian cartoon series that has nothing to do with watering cans and that actual English speaking fans refuse to acknowledge sounds retarded.
Watering Can Scuba W: Remember me Densely
At least motel Ramada is better than hotel Rwanda
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11-29-2011: this one hid from the robots for a long time!
Like most of the “interactive” internet, My-space has let me down and I hate it, and so I log in to it less than once a week, yet I’ve seen about five of these.
I’m not sure what about Dennis Kucinich supposedly makes him so much more ridiculous and “unelectable” than anyone else, –and it’s not that he has a myspace page either, because all of them do– but I will say that even the year in his logo goes too far. Also, if that enormous flag behind him is properly masted and flowing freely, then Dennich must able to fly. And why not? He’s a magical forest spright, after all. Is that so wrong?
He brings great things to the world.
KFC Famous Bowls are like Hungry Man dinners without the organizational skills
…I typed out of apparent whimsy a few weeks ago. Yesterday, I discovered that not only did I lump all parts of a Hungry Man’s smorgasbord together into one section, I also prepared it beside chicken meat-like-products. Not pictured: the leftover Wendy’s salt packlet I emptied in the vicinity of food-stuffs that were already 80% sodium. There’s probably more nutrition in the oven mitten. How have I survived this long?
And before you go home tonight from the grocery store trip reading this has no doubt inspired thinking that I, Quilfip Unidar Earvanbib Glinkob II can only eat two Jose Ole (great food with an accent!) brand taquitos, I should inform you that they come 15 to a box and of the items you see before you those are the only ones my sister also will eat so I hate to hog them. I can’t imagine what she finds off-putting about the rest of it.
This reminds me:
For years, in various supermarkets I’ve seen Hungry Man frozen bad dinners and Hungry Jack frozen bad breakfasts.I wondered quasi-recently, what precisely is the difference between Hungry Man and Hungry Jack? At this time I have but a theory.
Jack gets so hungry at night that he forgets his own name. He is now just a man. A hungry man. Jack has become a meat-eating beast with no identity. What does he hunger for? I don’t know what it is, but it’s inside a thin cardboard box and can stay there for years without spoiling. Jack’s affliction doesn’t… afflict me; I only eat good frozen rubbish.
I always make sure in advance that it’s at least approachable.
If you’re going to try and be fancy by purchasing stained-glass-ish lampshades, the ones with clowns on them might not be your best bet. Especially clowns who, judging from the cartoon stench lines, have no respect for the sterility of an eating environment. And this was no accident. That’s one proud clown, quite regardless of the fact that even the most noble clown has nothing to be proud of. I’d close the window blinds if I had any idea how they worked. The blinds on the wall can be left as they are.
No no no! Don’t endanger your life fighting over a bag of cents! Your gun probably cost more than your entire theft! Uhhhhnnn, these things never learn.
Monday, July 30, 2007, 12:39:54 am, East Haven Standard Time:
Roneldo survives Dungeons of the Unforgiven actually playing the game properly.
Sounds like a plan. Several plans.
Roneldo is feared and respected.
Not just Scared Guy, but I just generally hate the idea of “Guy” as a last name. People are always calling themselves guys because… because… because because because because becawwwwwse… don’t know why! I had hoped elongating the previous sentence would have given me time to think of the reason, but it didn’t. All I can come up with is that they’re obsessed with being male and defining themselves by single characteristics. Or they’re just stupid whores who copy each other. It’s not all that interesting. That’s why I had to bring it up.
(note: don’t click any of these) Allow me to introduce Mustacheguy! He likes mustaches, has a mustache, or IS a mustache! Ooh, watch out for Sarcasticguy! He’ll burn ya! Don’t listen to Stupidguy! Every one of his opinions is totally invalid by his own admission, and he has no intention of changing! I wonder if Linuxguy likes Linux? I wonder if he would regularly make that quite obvious in conversation regardless of his name? I wonder if he knows his website is a dot-biz? Hark, it is the call of Filterguy! The one who sings the high notes in every R&B song! Brrrring. Brrrring. Hello? Oh no, Potatoguy! He’s not human! Is that Quarterguy? I don’t know, he’s only one fourth complete!
I wonder if there’s a Lawnmowerguy? Of course there is! Every one of the guys I mentioned and most of the ones I didn’t turned up member profiles for the pertinent guys. Not only is there a Bastardguy, he’s registered at a site with “rant” in its name. His profile is empty because he’s already told you everything he wants you to know. Curtainguy plays a keyboard, naturally. Scarfguy Saltguy Pieguy Popeyeguy Beanguy, and there are more Guyguys than any of them. And there are more active Deadguys than Guyguys somehow. Enough with the guys!
So many people prefer to be known by identityless descriptions rather than names. I feel like they should be fighting Megaman. Excuse me, Megaguy, the thirty three-eth level Briton Infiltrator.
Or maybe this Guy.
Possibly even this Guy, and he’s in a wheelchair.
“Guy” at the end is really no better than a random number, and plenty less mysterious. I suppose for some people it is homaging the animated televisual series Familyguy, and doing that online never gets embarrassing.
I’m also not especially fond of Guy Gilchrist, but that’s a story for another day. Presumably a day occurring after the other another days I’ve referred to stories being for.
One unusual exception to the guy rule was the one time I encountered a person only known as “Star Tropics Man.” Curiously enough, his avatarian-image depicted Luigi (the Mario brother) and he had a website about Battletoads. I may possibly have combined several persons into one within my mind, but that’s not important. What’s important is that there are people in the world who like Battletoads.
Studies have shown that I rarely end with a picture.
Monday:
The internet has seemed only slightly less creepy since I figured out people talking about their GFs don’t mean their grandfathers.
Tuesday:
Why are the people who say “IMHO,” meaning “in my humble opinion,” almost always the least humble? You can tell they really think they have the best opinion of all. They’re so un-humble that they constantly remind everyone how humble they want us to think they are. They might as well say I’M A HO, because it’s usually true.
Wednesday:
Any day when I can’t wake up until 3 pm is one that I shouldn’t require a nap during.
Thursday:
My brother (the Ian one) just explained Fantasy Baseball to me. I felt like his wife.
Friday:
Overheard by me, spoken by one of my fence-building occasional neighbors, presumably to one of his children: “I will kick your ass. Get in the car.” The continued childish laughter from the suspected target suggested this was not a sincere threat, but it’s certainly nothing my father ever said to me.
Saturday:
Lists are easy.
We chilled on Sunday.
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!
Well hello there. Do you remember the stupid comics? My stupid comics? My most recent stupid comics? Here be the first three “pages” of the next part, that being the part after the last part. I had wanted to have five by two weeks ago, but ehhh. I’m still adjusting to the idea of doing this for speed and clarity (evidenced by the intensified shading on the panels made later and occasionally inserted between ones made earlier). Oh, and right: my pen ran out of ink, mostly, and I didn’t replace it because it was really a marker and I want a real pen but they cost over thirty dollars and this no longer inspires within me the naive optimism of potential profitability it once did, so back to paint-shop-pro layers again I go, I suppose. But anyway, hopefully this makes sense so far.
Addendoy: I’d be interested in knowing if anyone tried to look at this but couldn’t get past the giant creepy, disproportionate picture at the start.
Do we have enough giant cars? I think we might. I would like to briefly speculate as to which theoretically ingestible products’ (besides Nutripals’) plastic exoskeletons litter the dark regions of these large automobiles…
It was only a matter of months before the KFC Famous Bowls approach to food architecture was applied to candy. Now all it needs is a great mascot to become totally unappealing.
Like so!
I do like all sorts of candy, and yet…
Ehhh.
Speaking of KFC, as I did briefly, if ever you store left-over kfchicken meat in a refrigerator, you’re better off eating it cold than attempting to restore heat to it. The stuff is not natural. Sometimes I question if this sort of thing is worth breeding and murdering over 50 billion of the birds every year for. Considering that it and related orange-coated meat allsorts comprise one of my personal principle food groups, any attempt at compassion and regret is probably a sizable step.
I went to some place yestorday which listed on its menu the possibility of ordering, for your consumption, 100 chicken wings. That’s probably meant to be shared between several people, but still it’s all just a bit disturbing.
However, it is yet better than Meeting the Deedles. I suggest we combine the two ideas and Meat the Deedles.