Whenever possible, I have blank paper available while I attempt to sleep so that I can write down thoughts which occur to me or things to remind me of those thoughts. Very important things, like who the voice of the Honey Nut Cheerio bee was in the 1980s or what order the Berenstain Bear books were written in. If I don’t reach over and scrawl out through the darkness BEE VOICE or BERENSTAIN BEAR ORDER I might not remember to look those things up later, and then where would I be? The notes vary in legibility; with some I cannot make out right away every letter and with others I can read the words but don’t know what they mean; I recently wrote PALIN ENERGIZED THE BASEST and that one took me a while, because “Palin” looked like “Blin” and I couldn’t remember thinking anything about energy, and I would because that is a funny word. The important part of the thought only regarded the last word, but if I’d just written “basest” that would have confused me for even longer. I may have thought I wrote something about a beast, and I have no shortage of ignorant smiling beasts causing me problems. That I do not need to remind myself of! However, I always get it eventually. UNTIL NOW.
This one is a mystery. po nostev? pcn naGtar? i Do rostiL? pm rastyr? Dm loctov? Dq haqxld?
Natsoy Wd? I have no idea! None of these are close to being an idea or the name of a thing I wanted more information about. My own lack of consistency among letter cases and writing angles needlessly complicates things. And I wrote this days ago, so even if I do figure out the literary portion of the problem I may not be able to remember what I was thinking that it related to. I dared not erase it without making a record first, because it’s probably not important (unlike I get Popful junk mail which was incredibly important) but some things I only think about once a year and judging by my inability to interpret it this could be one of them.
The reason I had to erase it is because I write all my notes on paper that I intend to draw pictures on, because that’s the only way to force me-self to look at the notes and do something about them. Placing it here constitutes doing something, I decided.
All those people making fun with “Blagojevich” this week don’t know what I’ve been through. any hair a mannequin needs is available in wig form indeed!
Get going! There is work to be done! Now is not the time to suddenly become aware of and dumbfounded by how stupid your nose looks.
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Merry Christmas. Here’s your doughnut. This and other stories soon/eventually/never.
It’s hard. Times are tough. When you’re gone for the better part of a week, what can remain but the worse part? Oh ho ho. That is the sort of introspective realization that takes five days.
Here’s a tip for you: providers of spectacularly adequate service in Fort Lauderdoodle love to tell you to give them tips. But here’s another: The best thing to do when you catch a cold is to stay awake all night and leave Florida for a part of the northern hemisphere with actual seasons.
The weather’s just been brutal down there.
I’m sick sick weak of hearing about the JD Power and Associates award. I don’t know how many are given out per year, but I hear about and see them in enough indistinct, ubiquitous car advertisings that I just assume every car automatically gets one and I don’t notice when one doesn’t brag about getting one, and they always brag about getting one. I probably have a JD Power and Associates award in here somewhere. The bow tie that won a blue ribbon probably won a JD Power and associates award. And that Motor Trend bent coat hanger award. The incomplete 1800s oil lamp award. As everyone knows, the Motor Trend award was created when some hobo in California started collecting Uri Gellar’s bent spoons out of local waste receptacles and taping them together and magically inherited all his credibility. I think if I buy that car the award should come with it.
The award is small yet in the ads it’s always bigger than the cars. It looks like the people are using the car to sell the award. There was one ad where some oaf drives a big dumb dumptruck car up a mountain and then hoists the award like it’s the lion king or something. Heyza, Not even a politically repressed zebra is going to bow before your shrapnel sculpture. It’s as if the car is trained idiot slut ladies and the award is Bud Lite. I don’t even know if beer ads like that are made anymore but if they were I assume that award would remind me of them. As pleasing as my sudden awareness of my lack of awareness of recent beer ads is, I know that they’ll live on as long as there are videos titled “FUNNY COMMERCIAL” because those almost invariably involve beer, cars, or objectified women in some way.
As far as I can tell, all you need to do to win that tag-sale Tinkertoy towel-rack award is to drive just any old dopey car up a hill or through a field. If I’ve been being shown the exact same driving filmage for the past twenty years of this happening I would not be surprised. I would even be relieved; I hate to think of all the gasoline that’s wasted sending dumb cars to and all over Missouri just because a trendy motorist threw dumpster trinkets at them.
Motor Trend, whatever that is, –as far as I can tell the only trend is to shove that award at me– may have given your car an award, but it didn’t have to deal with THOOM THOOM, THOOM! your awful ads. I think citizens should be allowed to revoke awards from winners who are too proud of them. That applies to you too, Forrest Gump. I won the Kind of Good Artist award at school in 1990 and you don’t see me floating that over the chroma key. Indeed, I reckon you don’t see me at all. And I’ve just realized that I don’t see me too much, either. It’s worrying.
I would be a remix (and that’s usually bad) if I did not mention this rebuttal to my previous rebuttal.
The Iron Curtain writes, on the magical comment form:
Surely Nemitz is at least Elpse’s pal.
When I was a wee lad, I used to think that fund-raisers were in fact known as “fun-raisers”. ‘Twould seem I was far from the only one, as years later when I entered [Rock n’ Roll] high school, there existed some sort of extra-curricular group which would periodically increase its capital by hocking boxes of donuts bearing the words “FUND Raiser”. Personally, I always thought it somewhat inappropriate to refer to any food product as “fun”. Ideally such an item should be pleasant, of course, but “fun” suggests a far more active engagement than the semi-passive activity of eating really seems to merit. I’ll give McDonald’s old “Food, Folks and Fun” slogan a pass, though, if only because most of the associated restaurants feature a so-called “playplace” which could serve to fill the last requirement. Mind, at the time, I actually thought the words were “Food Folks are fun”, the Food Folks in question being the various McDonald’s mascots, most of whom are associated in some way or another with a food product, and who are normally portrayed as being quite the merry bunch. In retrospect, this may have actually been a more effective slogan than the one ultimately used.
Ah, but of course! I understand now. Verily, many people these days have too much fun eating their food. I will make the appropriate changes.
The votes have been counted and the people have spoken, if we understand “speech” to mean the minimal blackening of selected regions on paper sheets:
By decreel of 5,419 versus 4,987 opinion units, Madison will not be getting a new library. Better luck next time, Scranty! It may yet be seen how the unavailability of red ink pens in addition to instructions to fill ovals rather than make check marks within squares affected the validity of would-be yes votes.
In retrospect, the plan to renovate the library into a dinkity model was perhaps misguided. How was anybody going to fit in there?
Bimshwel.com/index.php would, however, like to congratulate
Jerry Espenson on making partner at the law firm of Crane Poole and Schmidt. We were with you all the way, Jerry!
Additionally we extend the heartiest, most nutritious of welcomes to
president-elect Oprah Winfrey. We loves ya, Opey!
Finally, in perhaps the biggest news of all, it brings us great joy to herald the arrival of
Mobil Mart’s new breakfast burrito. It’s about time you guys replaced that thing! It was starting to get an attitude. If there is nothing else, I would very much like to get back to poking what I presume with my complete lack of anatomical competence is a swollen superior deep cervical lymph gland, which may indicate syphilis. Good night and good mandible.
I just realized [three months ago] that there are people who were borned IN the 1970S who aren’t thirty years old yet. That astounds me for some reason. All my life, the disco decade had seemed totally beyond accessibility and yet for some time now I have shared a first digit with people who experienced part of it. That gives me at least four more years before I’m totally outdated.
What’s the deal with Jim Carrey being in movies where he has magical powers or is enchanted in some way? First he couldn’t lie, and now he can’t say no. And remember that time he found the magic theater mask that made him turn into rubber, and then a few years later he just went full God? And I definitely recall reports roundabout the turn of the century of Mr. Carrey “becoming” Andy Kaufman, a task simply not possible within any realm of logic as the non-wizardly mortals among us who are logical know it. All this, despite being, according to popular wisdom, dumber than dumb, which, with such unchecked powers, would only make him more dangerous. Somebody needs to watch this guy.
Well, you are kind of in the Bat-Mobile. Also, I imagine your driving becomes conspicuously erratic while you’re writing in your notebook. Tearing off each note as you write it seems to me like it could only make your trail easier to follow.
E-cards are SUPPOSED to be free. Does anyone pay for them? Does anyone even still use them? I don’t think I’ve received one in eight years. To put that in perspective, there are actually people who give me greeting cards.
It seems to me that the first rule is the best value. I’m not entirely sure on the math but the nine additional rules seem to only get you about 2.4 times as much weight loss. Which is still pretty good, but man, do I really have time for 10 whole rules? Especially if I’m an idiot? Idiot seems so much more serious and harsh than dummy.
I bet I’m smart enough to not take dares from stupid banner ads.
Seriously, why should I even bother if it’s so hard that the guy in the picture got zero percent correct? And it’s harsh in its reprimands: the notification occupies an entire screen. I don’t know if I can handle that much abuse. The man is so ashamed he dare not look directly at the monitor for fear it might read the regret and take the opportunity to dispatch more wrath. you know the thing is a sadistic machine, for it persists in its persecution despite not being plugged in. My intelligence may not be that of a supreme machine but I know enough to not enter into a wager with one.
Murder yellow teeth: the worst kind of yellow teeth!
Why don’t the Secret Dentists want me to know about Teeth Whitening, the only hero believed to be a match for the Murder Yellow Teeth in combat? My life could be in danger! What’s in this for those dentists? Do they work for the Dumb Test 12000 master computer? Is this a plot to keep people from correcting teeth yellowness so that malevolent machination can make fun of them? We cannot afford to show weakness! We must get ourselves in contact with the mysterious anonymous individual who sponsored this awareness! We must band together! We must
I COMPUTER! I MAKE LINK! I TRICK YOU INTO THINK YOU HAVE CHANCE! NO HAVE CHANCE ACTUALLY! YOU NO MATCH MY TEST ME SMART! YOU DUMB NO DO TEST GOOD CAN! COMPUTER WIN MAXIMUM ALWAYS! BEEP BOOP BLIP BLOOP BOP, I SAY! ALSO WHY YOU GOT SUCH YELLOW TEETH?
77777777777777777777777777777777
This could be the most important decision you ever make.
I, personally, have a policy of never accepting waterfowl from persons who willingly wear red buckled boots. Conversely, when I am offered red and/or buckled boots by a duck, I generally turn down the offers.
baconbaconbaconbaconbaconbaconbacon
Because I insist on doubting myself, I watched another dreadful aspiring president debate. Somehow much of what discussion there was regarded how many taxes a plumber named Joe would be required to pay and whether he’d be cold at night with winter coming and whether he has enough fiber in his diet.
As I understand it (and you may find that I do not), plumbers work out pretty well with the dollars. Among professions popularly regarded as “blue collar,” whatever that means, they make kind of a lot of money. The only time I knew of a more lucrative like-hued collar it was on Scooby Doo. I’m not filled with sympathy that this one will have to wait a bit longer to buy some company. Additionally, the most successful plumbers often go on to highly profitable careers in fields such as turtle stomping and brick punching. Some discover that they earn enough floating gold currency to last several lifetimes.
One of my major problems with the democrat club, and why I can never fully assure myself that they’re the best we can get is their willingness to play along when the opposition makes huge deals of asinine childish nonsense like this. “Joe, I’m talking to you! I won’t make you pay any taxes ever! And gays have to wear beekeeper suits and you can keep your land mines out all year and I’m appointing St. Francis of Assisi as secretary of public nudity and making Mexico illegal.” I’m trying to wrap this up because I want to take a nap.
It has been pondered who will portray Joe the Plumber in an inevitable Saturday Night Thursday sketch about the debate which I rather wish I wasn’t in such a position to actually understand. Shelly Goldstein, who I don’t know at all but whose name I think sounds kind of funny suggests John Goodman in the very last sentence, but knowing that show, it is my belief that Joe will play himself and be rather awkward once the “wow! That’s the real Joe the Plumber!” excitement wears off. And then why even live when we can’t have that anymore?
By the wuh, I hate those ads for the Thursday supplement always showing Tina Fey pretending to be Sarah Palin pretending to play a flute. Hey, citizens! Tina Fey will not be appearing on the Thursday night version! She’s not actually employed by the program anymore, hasn’t been for rather some time, and I doubt they’re going to waste such an apparently big draw on a variant of the program less people know about! Oh, hey, and have you seen some of the sketches they’ve been putting on after Tina gets out of there? I interrogated the one other person I am in contact with who watches awful comedy shows, and she seemed not to have. And so I said to that “verily, a ninety-minute length may reasonably be perceived as superfluous” because I’m even phonier in person, and I optimistically pondered such an eventual horrible presentation that I at last could have no more of it. And then NBC invented a version one third in length just so I couldn’t say that was a good idea first. So I’m not telling anybody about my great idea for a pumpkin flavored dessert.
In Canada, I’m glad Stephen Harper was elected to be the prime minister again. It took me years to remember his name.
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I will provide a more helpful photogram when the job is done and I figure how to take one.
Despite my wimpily soliciting suggestions in search of anything but this, and then spending several hours crafting a totally different base picture (which I actually forgot about until I re-read that linked page in which I claim to have produced such a thing), I ended up painting the dumb ice cream truck anyway. Although by now I’ve widened the deal so much that I think the pumpkin picture would have fit, and if I’d gone with that I’d surely be done by now. I am not done.
It may even have been the case, in May, that someone said to me pumpkins were too evocative of Halloween, but ice cream was very appropriate for summer. So anyway they want me to finish the mural by Halloween. But I am not worried about that.
Now to the reason why I asked you here today: I am still unable to expel from my mental lump the thought that the above section will be interpreted not as a joke about tacky marketing but simply latent racism, or even me thinking that’s supposed to be Snoopy D Dogg because he was the one associated with that “drizzle” speak back in the good old days of 2006, and I know he doesn’t look like that. For one thing, his skin isn’t blue, and I actually drew him once and he looked more like this.
Also, in search of this picture to scan I even came across a similar y’all in connection with a decidedly white person.
The paper is also whiter.
But in the context of a wall that just anybody can look at without my personal endless attention, it seems worth being concerned about. I would be interested in knowing if there are members of any persecuted non-white minorities who read this page and additionally on a scale from 1 to done how racist they think that is.
If questioned, I could easily defend it by pointing out that the guy in the ad is getting paid for his prestige rather than having to drive an ice cream truck in winter. Also, everyone ELSE in the scene is a subhuman degenerate. But I do not expect to be questioned. People probably know better by now.
If I change the message “ice crizzeam yall” I wonder what to. I’m trying to think of some stupid cone related pun because a great one came to me in a dream which I promptly forgot upon waking. I think it was something like “How cone you resist?” or “conesider the possibilities” except ideally more horrible so for horrible to be the unmistakable intention. Another option would be to attempt to make that resemble Snoopo and change yall to yizall but then I risk having to hate myself. Adding elf ears seems to most extreme change I can make at this point.
The Friendly’s restaurant chain once had an ice cream mascot named “Scoopy” which might have worked here, but I can’t remember a single detail pertaining to its appearance. It actually makes me think of the hero from Crystalis because I inexplicably named him “Scoopy” once. At any rate, if I can’t remember it’s likely no one else would, either.
If you happen to both look at the journal and the comments, know that I had nothing to do with this here. I let people get away with all sorts of things they shouldn’t. The mystery response was comprised entirely of characters which turn into question marks when I paste them here. However, the magical babbling fish converts them, when ordered to do so from “Russian to English” into this helpful message:
Aside from the semi colon with right parenthesot, that hardly seems worth being suspended over, does it?
And if you’ve never seen the transfestunerix journal before, you’re probably better off for that. It primarily exists so I can leave regrettable commentary on the more operational journals of others, at least one of whom I suspect has gone into hiding as a result of it.
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Edit! Mr. Crizzeam now wears a classy beret. The problem is solved. We thank you for your patience.
This should have appeared two weeks ago*, but I was distracted by business. Imagine if I had a real job!
Surprise! Your favorite baseball team and your absolute least favorite baseball team of all the times have a mutually profitable relationship! Neither has any more integrity than the other! Despite being in the same geographic region both still get more money and attention than any other team –ehhh, excuse me, franchise– in the country, if not the world! Popeye will play for both!
But he’s such a splendid citizen he’ll even play for less important teams no one has heard of, like the Mets. Or rather, I suppose he’s playing against them, because it wouldn’t make sense for the ah thrower to be pitching an opposing force’s ball. Or if it did, it would be Popeye’s goal to catch the ball and protect it from further abuse. But instead of that he applies greater, opposing force to the object, which must hurt it a great deal, I think. As to why Popeye clutches a baseball bat club when he repels the ball with his mind, (for he still has the bludgeon in unswung position) that’s probably just one of the rules. Popeye always respects the law. Right?
I’ll never smile again.
No, Monki! Do not Meet Popeye! He is a bad man! Do not be like him!
Where have the heroes gone? What happened to all the good uneducated violent ruffians?
I wouldn’t want to use internet inside a place that smells like a Subway Restaurants. I don’t think I could go inside anyway after Jared caught me spying on him. Actually, it feels more like he’s spying on me and that’s worse.
Relevant to the televised material I recently, illogically feared being wronged by: I appreciate that Saturday Night Live’s legendary expensive, pointless, sketch-ruining guest star budget saw fit to bring in a harmless, w-list goof like former pornography mogul Jared Fogle, but it still would have been funnier if they just cast some random dork wearing glasses in the part. As it would have been with William Shatner, just not necessarily with the glasses. Really, how much is NBC paying Darrel Hammond to appear in one sketch per show? I don’t think I’ve even heard Bella Corolli speak on more than four occasions in the last 12 years; anybody could have done that impression and I wouldn’t have known how accurate it was. I think Hammond may actually just have been hired into the cast the last time this guy was considered relevant enough to put in a sketch. That’s how long ago it was. I like funny impressions more than supposedly accurate ones, anyhow. But even then there’s only so much Regis Philbin, real or otherwise, that is tolerable.
I didn’t see this week’s (now last week’s) because through some unusual for me circumstances I was instead watching the film Waking Life, which has successfully displaced Harry Nilsson’s The Point as the most boring movie I’ve ever seen. However, I had a picture I wanted to use for that complaint, and having occupied a bit over five eighths of my allotted, purchased web space has somehow managed to fill it beyond capacity and I can upload no more files without first deleting others (ftp access gives a more concise “disk full” explanation) and I’ll probably have to spend a week filing official complaints, after which, assuming I am successful, in the company of winners like American Carol and Beverly Hills Chihuahua, an underexposed art-ish film from six years ago won’t seem like such a big deal.
Clearly, I am a tremendous drain on resources.
As long as I mentioned THAT program, here’s something from six months ago. At the time I was of the opinion that I mentioned that I watched that show and that it bothered me too often. Evidently I still do. Let us hope this is the end of that. Let us also hope I become independent enough that I no longer need to ask permission to have hope.
March 8, 2008, I even dated it because I anticipate forgetting about things now.
Did you see this Saturday Live Night sketch? I did, but I did not understand. It makes no sense whatsoever if you don’t also watch Project Runway every single week -notwithstanding the intense irony of me saying this in the context of another tv program lots of people don’t watch-, because all it’s doing is imitating someone who was on Project Runway. Not even in the context of making fun of the show, just someone who
There was another sketch about Daniel Plainview from the feature film There Will be Blood. If you haven’t seen the movie, it’s not funny and just seems random. And if you have seen the movie, it’s kind of stupid. If you see the sketch and THEN see the movie, you’ll probably get annoyed at suddenly realizing “oh, THAT’s what that meant. Ha ha?” Guess which I did! And the popcorn was less than satisfactory, too. These sketches literally have no value to somebody who doesn’t obsesively keep up with every stupid new movie and tv show because there is so very little to the sketches outside of imitation. They cannot stand on their own and will make no sense in a year. A program that sells its reruns for decades afterward should be more conscious of that.
I liked when Will Ferrell would be Haray Caray or Robert Goulet or somebody I, and presumably most of the audience, knew nothing about and make such fools of himself as them that I wanted to know who they were. The current showmasters just give the cast tapes of celebrities and say “here, do this.” Fred Armisen, who actually looks and sounds funny when he’s talking normally as himself, seems to almost be in pain as Barack O’Bama, just because he’s trying so hard to sound like Baraq Obomma
I’m not going to say “time to cancel the show” because I’ve probably said that before and there’s always some yahoo saying “OK, NOW’s the time.” No, dorf. It was time in 1994, it was time in 1998, it was time in 2005. This show is an incumbent senator. Jay Leno will be forced off the air for good before this show will, and that will probably only happen when he dies at 109 50 years from now. It will have to be really bad for really long before it gets cancelled. It’s recovered so many times people expect it to recover.
And don’t forget (unless your mental wellbeing requires it) all the home/office/youtube “comedians” who thrive on emulating the trashiest aspects of the program, who’ve never had a creative thought their entire lives, who see the Saturday Night Living as “institution” and buy the best-ofs on dvd and say to themselves “if it’s on Essennell it must be funny! It’s a comedy showww!” Until THEY stop watching, it will endure. Until they rush to the “MadTV vs. SNL” topic they started on imdb.com and switch their vote and change their arguments into “this message has been deleted”s, it will go on.
Unless you vote now!
≡=– –=Ξ=– –=Ξ=– –=Ξ=– –=Ξ=– –=Ξ=– –=Ξ=– –=≡
The time was insufficient, but I successfully lobbied for more days. So.
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I only have a day remaining [to complete a christmascard picture] and I fear it will be insufficient for my needs. I have special needs.
I need to correct the feet of the purple thing and the green thing, make the red one look less constipatory, figure out the background some more, decide if I absolutely must designate every aluminium siding piece, possibly place a string of tacky lights along the house-edge thing, and ideally keep myself from finding anything else wrong with it that seems fixable. If you have a helpful suggestion that’s not hard to implement eh I should have asked yesterday. I’m not into that whole whip in progress or whatever it is sort of thing. That’s not professional. And usually I’d say “neither am I” but massively jpg-exporting, uploading and image-code-entering unfinished rubbish seems like a fairly easy thing to not do. In this case I just don’t like having gripes about dumb tv shows at the top of my page, if anywhere. Ooh I’ve seen several people claim that horizontally flipping an image can be heap big helpful in correcting vague errors. I don’t like flipping so I just rotated the thing and hopefully that’s enough. And I don’t think I’ve turned it back around yet.
I had planned an important Popeye update, but other things have come up.
For some reason I only have until the first week of October to design and complete a christmas “holiday” card this year for whoever I did it for last year, and for some other reason the person who was supposed to tell me that didn’t and so I just found out today. The last time I saw that person was August 29, and of course Christmas Season doesn’t start until August 31. I don’t have much time to think of and consider ideas, so if any person happens to see this within a reasonable period I would appreciate input as to which of these seems the most usable. Otherwise, just laugh at my inefficient creative process and annual failure to empathize.
Last year’s cards are eventually mentioned here.
1 “Nemitz” misunderstands the point of exchanging presents and offers up “Mortimewde” (bow tie animal) to “Elpse” instead of a cartoon giftwrapped box. This doesn’t work primarily because nobody would know that horrible monster always wears a big bow tie ribbon and secondarily for other reasons.
On a less pressing note, is it stranger for the elpse imp to wear a coat and no pants (with shirt left to mystery) or for it to be fully clothed but the nemitz [fur-covered] one nude except for a scarf? Or should they both be fully clothed? It seems odd to do that. And yet it also seems a shame to waste an opportunity to put silly accessories on them.
2 and 3 essentially the same, but the circumstances differ.
In a proper version, the first would more obviously present the idea of a little, pitiful ice pond surrounded by non-navigable terrain. In the second, I wonder if it’s scientifically feasible to freeze your own wading pool, and without destroying it. And if you could do this, why not ice down the road? I don’t know enough to assume ice-skates would not properly grasp such a thin layer of it. And yes, if I go ahead with this I fully intend to use my neighbors’ house as a model. Oddly enough it’s easier to use that than my own but that’s not even why.
I suppose I could always just use the old picture these would be follow-ups to because it hasn’t been publically displayed at all.
6 And so we see there is no shortage of pitiful places to not skate. This is on a beach, in case you aren’t familiar with the international symbol of monochrome sand texture, random black dots. The only other major distinguishing feature of the local beach I can think of is a big black rubber pipe that connects to the septic system or something and I am not sure how normal it is to have one of those (but I included it anyway). I thought this particular scene might not “connect” with people outside “connecticut,” but then I realized that it doesn’t have to because these won’t be for sale, probably even outside New Haven, if anywhere.
4 The Riddler hangs question mark candy canes on a deliberately christmas style tree. Not incredibly inventive but it would look so stupid that it might work. I just wouldn’t feel proper charging people money for a picture I made with The Riddler central to it. Also, I would have to learn to draw The Riddler. That could hold things up. I assure you The Riddler will be wearing pants in any event. Suspenders could hold things up.
5 We seem to be one ski short.
I keep thinking people associate ice skating with christmas more than skiing. And yet this seems off with skates. Regardless, the joke is a bit weak because bombs are funnier (and curiously, easier to relate to) than tails are. The same moral question as before applies to the clothing. If I made this I would probably reverse the creature’s positions. My personal “preview” pictures are often backwards, I’ve noticed. I usually notice in time to do something about it.
I suspect people would much rather buy something that featured pog (the irrelevant middle figure) than the other two but eh.
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It occurs to me that none of these are things anybody would want send to someone, certainly not in observance of a federal holiday, but it didn’t when I posted them here. Obviously. My Veterans Day cards, lacking any traditionally associated weather conditions, will be even less relevant.
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And this immediately after I accused people of being impulsive in their need to exhibit visually unimpressive rubbish and demand attention for it. The main difference is that I feel like a terrible person whatever happens.
This would work better as the second or third in a sequence.
Maybe in the first the foreground imp finds a big lump of snow and decides to shape spheres from it, and only in the second is the background scheme revealed. But I will do what I have to do once I figure out what that is.
I wondered if freezing water in balloons was possible, and it is, and supposedly people do throw them at each other sometimes, though they may prefer to remove the balloon from the ice first. Ah ha! But nemitz is such a dumb scoundrel it did not realize the water would freeze, ha ha? Iygm, what am I doing? Maybe those creatures are the problem. Would anybody even want to commemorate their favorite Jesus Day with wicked smiling servants of Satan, these frightful yak-beasts from the foulest depths of eternal suffering? Of course they would not give me decent inspiration.
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It was suggested to me that I do something like this. Hopefully it will be deemed acceptable by whoever is intended to accept it.
======================equal signs this time
I was not able to discuss the terms of the image with the other party and I know it won’t be available again until Monday, and so, in the absence of official, external doubt, I spent much of this day (this day being Friday, and not the Wednesday the above date seems to suggest) constructing a prettier version of the possibility immediately above here.
And yet I keep thinking that one was a bad idea and that no one will like it. Which is normal, but generally that is in regards to things that I just make because I feel like making them.
Perhaps this will be my own personal Adventures of Pluto Nash. It would be nice to think things could not get worse. The down[er] side to that would be that only the likes of Norbit and Meat Dave remain in my future, and I don’t have a never ending avalanche of Shreck Bucks to support my life’s pursuit of worthless art.
Did you know the emmy awards were a few days ago? I didn’t even know they were doing that this year. I, personally, only watch the Latin Emmies.
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Addendah: Obviously, maybe, perhaps, I have off-internet bad issues at the moments which are affecting the whininess quotient of the words I type at people. Now that we’re aware of that you shouldn’t have to worry about them until I start getting specific. If I were hunting for pity, and I thought I could get it, I wouldn’t waste it on the stupid pine cone picture. I have disappointments I’m proud of slightly.
Have you ever made something and thought “gosh, this is boring. no one will like it.” and so then start adding things and thinking “yes!” “oh indeed!” “that is good!” “much more interesting!,” get to what seems to be the end and suddenly realize what you have created is utterly meritless and unappealing? Yes, all the time.
I may be allergic to success. In general, but specifically regarding this, it occurred to me that several of the people who admit to looking at my internet pictures have a special appreciation for drawings of scoundrel anthropomorph cartoon lizard folk. One part of my mind thinks “great, that’s easy, I can draw those, easily, and please people.” Another part resents how easy that is, sees it as giving in to something less than pure, and insists that I take action to make the picture “funny,” or, failing that, ugly. Or rather, the ugliness was supposed to be funny, but really it’s just ugly. Perhaps I think that if distinguishing intellectuals won’t like it, nobody else should be able to, either. With that sort of irrational discipline I ought to be able to excel in all sorts of miserable jobs, and yet I never have.
Note that this is not the “good” ugly. Where everybody has face-width mouths and round teeth and perfect elliptical bulging eye-balls with tiny pupils at the exact center and occasional boneless limbs and they always shout crude caps lock intentionally broken English and everything looks like it smells bad and I hate them a lot. I reckon people will have moved on from that in a few years but I will always know I hated it now.
I remember, in third grade, everybody thought I had tourette syndrome and they didn’t like me much.
If my understanding of the stereotypical implications of that diagnosis are correct, I think I wouldn’t have liked me either. There may be additional reasons not to like me. And that is before factoring in mass thumbnail-theft.
As for why I removed the pineapple, it was not, in fact, because it specifically reminded me of the time, years ago, that I saw this image and it shorted out my brain.
No, silly. I just have a good mind for business.
The fundamentals of our economy are strong. At least as they apply to naked sumo blacksmiths.
If it was the former reason, that, along with my other findings, might mean that perhaps my second biggest obstacle toward achieving personal, stupid picture fulfillment after my own inadequacy is letting the World’s Largest art website influence me in any way at all and if I know what’s good for me I’ll stay the gack away from it. Blaming it for my failures will accomplish nothing but temporarily quelling my immortal hunger to blame things. And it is not as if I submit my digital rights for management by the itunes myspace idol alliance whenever I want melodic noise to hear. It’s not as if that one time I mistakenly thought I needed itunes for something it worked more than once after each time I reinstalled it. It’s not like I’m confident I’ve finally removed every hidden bit of sinistry itunes also installed in addition to itself but forgot to take with it when it left.
Ehhh, I’d hate to get to a point where I stop finding anything inherently amusing about pineapples entirely out of misplaced spite for the lack of second language comedy expertise of someone named after Skifree who is one of the precious few users of an internet increasingly dominated by impulsive, vulgar children who keeps me, at twenty five years of months, from being regarded as “old.”
This one is sort of frightening itself. When does it stop, ehhh?
regarding the website item immediately prior to this one:
Yusk, was I really that mad about “milf?” Jim, why won’t you talk to me? It’s been almost three weeks. I think I’ve finally gone fully psychotic. We need to get me eating some mad pills, yo. I was obsessed with the fear that if I did not complete and upload that there soon, the season premier of Saturday Night Live would steal my points and I’d look like I was copying it, and badly, because despite talking big rubbish about it for years I obviously still watch it. That is not a fear a proper person has. Nevermind that this is national news which people, among them superior satirists who don’t take the whole summer off, have been discussing for quite a while now, and the closest anyone has come to accusing me of plagiarism was suggesting that the frightfully proportioned proto-dopes in my ill-everythinged Doom levels looked like Pikmins, which I had up to then not seen and had assumed to be more retroactive pikachu ancestors I didn’t need to worry about.
In the end it didn’t matter because I failed to get the piece out before 9:34.24 pm, and I checked and there was only one recorded access to “milf.png” between then and 11:45 pm eastern normal time other than my own so it is still plausible that I watched the first sketch and shoved it through an eemo filter in the fifteen minutes before Sunday. Or worse, I wrote it right now and just changed the date. Even if nobody thinks that, just the fact that I thought they would means I need/have some real problems. Even if nobody who watches that show also reads this, because it is essential for my survival to pretend everybody reads this.
Inexplicable topic change:
Regarding the recently deceased Don LaFontaine, I found it odd, and I found it odd that I found it odd, that a man who had been dead for three days was talking to me through my television about movies which wouldn’t be released for another three. Including making specific reference to the near future, as in “starts Friday!” or “starts tomorrow!” You can’t say it starts tomorrow because you were dead yesterday! The only way you can mean that would be if it actually started the day before yesterday, but it starts tomorrow! Of course he recorded those in advance, but it was still weird! But now I find it even odder, hearing “now playing” ads in a different voice that’s trying to sound like his voice, as if he’s Porky Pig or something and a new guy can just take over. Yes, but no!
Clarification:
My problem isn’t just that Disney suddenly has a food brand, but that it’s a major food brand, getting prominent placement in a super-market where one of the primary features is usually cited that all the big brands are there. Also, how many other companies make ravioli and raisins? Would you buy a Ragu brand graphing calculator? More to the point, if Ragu made graphing calculators, would you expect to see these in a store without a special obligation to sell every type of graphing calculator?
Christmas Enzyte Watch: last sighted August 29. By Yuri, this will stop it. And when I say watch I don’t mean actually watch the ads. Not even for a second, not even with the sound mute. They’ve come on so many times I can detect the specific analog frequency of their scan lines.
I hate this sort of thing. The police shouldn’t have to come get you. They shouldn’t be endangering themselves to remove you from an incorrigible force of nature you knew was coming. Even if your miserable inebriation shanty is spared from destruction, inevitably some people are going to be in serious trouble elsewhere and state employees will have to waste time checking on others who insisted on being jackasses for no reason. You couldn’t not drink beer at a little table for a few hours? Is it that important to you? I don’t know what it’s like to live in hurricane country, constantly being warned about weather which will probably not affect me too terribly, but I wouldn’t get that attitude about it. And suppose you do have to leave your rideout hideout: how are you expecting to save yourself in the brief window between 50 and 55 miles per hour? I have to give my odds to the hurricane over the drunk driver. Aye yi yeep.
Umf, I want to go back in time to when I was less mad.
No, not far enough.
Obviously, this picture is a joke, but to some degree it is, if not dehumanizing, definitely dedignifying. Yeb, this stuff is going to happen when women apply for public offices in this age of public perversion. What bothers me is that I found this used by a clear Palin supporter. This is not the way to promote your preferred leader. And don’t even tell me “hey, that’s why she just wants to be vice president, dude” and don’t call me dude. Well if she doesn’t matter, don’t vote for her and also give votes to someone who does, by your definition, matter, but that you aren’t paying attention to.
And don’t insist on bragging about her “executive” experience like it means something, with “executive experience” being something that our current president had heaps more of in a more populous state. But he was never vice president, ehhh? Former Maryland governor Spiro Agnew was, though. But he wasn’t an outsider! What the umbrella is an outsider? Can you be experienced from the outside? And now we don’t even remember what we’re talking about. The fact is that vice presidents do matter, are more “inside” than anyone else, gubernatorial tenures don’t make them infallible and if all you have left is “MILF” then you really don’t have much. You just look like a dumb oaf, and I don’t take advice from them unless they threaten to beat me up and not on the internet. And this was in August, before Palpal made “lipstick” her core platform. I hate lipstick. It’s superfluous and gross. There, I said it. For the sake of humanity I hope I have greatly misunderstood all this, but for the sake of this website entry I hope I haven’t. It was hard.
The rapid priority shifting is probably, in the realm of trivial comments, worse than a thoughtless, unrelated remark about pigs by your opponent. Yet it’s totally consistent with the political tricks I’ve been seeing since I started paying attention to them. How is anyone still fooled by this frivolity? It’s tiring.
I can’t think of a more belittling title that someone would attempt as a compliment than MILF. Certainly, Palin does not call herself MILF (although I wouldn’t be too surprised, sadly), nor would any salaried employee of anything officially related to the political goings on. But if the first thing that comes to the mind of you, a heteronotgayal man, is “she is a mother and I would like-a to fack her,” and you tell people this, then you can’t seriously say you respect her as a person or a decision maker, can you? I don’t think MILF has been in common use long enough to distance itself from the full weight of its original meaning the way “suck” has from unsatisfactory fellatio.1
If I must talk about this, I further state my problem with the Hillary Clinton comparisons. Policies aside, –and that’s what you want, right?– Hillary Clinton had been plotting to be president for the last eight years, if not longer. Sarah Palin was just picked by some guy not even a few weeks ago, and for a lesser position. Maybe it’s nice, but suggesting she’s made any breakthrough with that is equivalent to announcing that figs may be plucked from thistles or that Gene Simmons’ head may be plucked from his own rectal cavity.
I hereby swear to never attempt another “head up arse” joke unless provoked.
Ehhh, to be the first woman vice president entirely as the result of a hastily conceived pandering attempt by a legion of creeps would be less than noble. It seems more like a desperate scheme than a uh long-term, devoted scheme. A more appropriate comparison would be to fellow vice president nominee Geraldine Ferraro, although she had to put up with an additional month of public scrutiny after being chosen. And… this is totally boring.
I refuse to be a political blog. I’d rather browse an 80 page thread on a “metal” forum than a political blog. I’d rather argue the merits of meat with a kitty cat. I am not a “dem” in a “panic.” I’m just disappointed how many people are unable or unwilling to learn from their mistakes.
1And I hope it never does! But I know it will. “Suck” I have seen compared to geek and moron, but those were already innocuous when I first heard them. Suck, while apparently owing its negative form to the early 1970s, entered major, wide-spread usage in my lifetime, championed by noted literary critics Butthead and Beavis, and I’ve always thought of it an ugly word. It sounds ugly. I shan’t use it. Milf, while abbreviated, doesn’t sound ugly but it reminds me of suck and that’s enough. I remember I saw esteemed comic figure Garfield use it once, maybe about 1994ish, remarking, quote, “the Mondays sucked,” and I was appalled. Back then being appalled by Garfield was fairly new to me. Milf also reminds me of yiff, and now that reminds me of Garfield. How is that fair?
I briefly considered the idea that “ant farms,” and specifically the practice of intentionally caving in tunnels (That’s what I quoted; I don’t demand that you click it) so the ants can be observed digging again, are horrible and cruel, but there are much nastier and widelier publicized ways to trap, deprive of purpose and kill your ants. Appropriately enough, called “ant traps.” But even those are probably a bit excessive. I suspect any creatures which dutifily proceed into the base of a near empty drink receptacle and die there in moist, pastey piles, as I’ve seen them do near my kitchen sink on more procrastinaty days, probably don’t have much will to live to begin with. Ants work until they die. The only exception is when they fight, and they only fight when their work is interrupted. Working, fighting, dying, it’s all they know how to do, and all they can know how to do. You’re probably helping them by speeding that along. Their whole lives are cruel. Not like slaves; they’re only officially slaves if another ant colony kidnaps them and enslaves them. It’s actually an instinctual, biological function that they make slaves of each other. Recently documented resistance to the slavery is even more cruel. Ant farming would only truly be cruel if you stuffed the ants inside a chinless, cube-headed symbol of depression era escapism-turned-proud redneck put-em-in-their-place anti feminism and gave that to someone who has a concept of cruelty. I wouldn’t be terribly surprised if living Shoebox greeting card Sarah Palin owns several Betty Boop products. However, in the interest of fairness and equal time I must acknowledge that Mitt Romney scares me.
Another peculiar, cruel-sounding aspect of ant farms, is that after purchasing them you’re supposed to send an included coupon or something to the Uncle Miltie company which will then mail live ants to you, free of further charge, accommodated by “an ant wrangler in Utah” which vaccuums a specific type of farm-compatible ant straight from the dirt at unspecified points in the state of Utah. Naturally, when I had an ant farm, I was not aware of or simply unwilling to deal with the mailing portion of the deal, and so just collected whatever ants I could find and dropped / shoved them into the thing. The ants dug no tunnels. They ate none of the narrow, food-like items I slid in with them, including one(1) Mr. Phipp’s Pretzel Chip. To their credit, though, they did as marvelous a job dying as any ants I’ve yet encountered. I will always remember them, and how they’re dead. I didn’t even eat them. Oh yeah and at the time I liked to eat ants.
Some years later, I found myself wanting to throw beehives at all possible aspects, name included, of the music band Alien Ant Farm, whose only hit was a song by someone else which had already been a hit. This youtube link and preview image are not working to rectify my disruptive urges.
Super Mario Galaxy: The hardbound cheat book. The perfect item to bring class to any home library. I say this as the former owner of the Mario Paint book and a pair of obscenely large, barely distinct mid 1990s books about the art of user-made Doom add-ons.
A Mario Galaxy is one thing (or rather one large system of vast amounts of vaguely racist ethnic caricatures of stars), but do you ever find yourself thinking, gravy gondola, my cheap bucketware games just aren’t boring and abstractly pointless enough?
Bweeyoop! It’s Rubik Cube: the video game! The sort of simplistic and annoying toy video games were invented to be better than, now deprived of that simplicity in addition to its convenient portability and tactile appeal. I could never solve the cube1 but I enjoyed twisting it around. It also makes a fairly whimsical yet adaptable decoration. This, however, surely has a completely different center of gravity. Oh yeah and it’s in a big stupid plastic box, too. I wouldn’t even hide it where I keep my forbidden hats. At least with Minesweeper you can pretend your boring window games are saving lives. How is spinning individual parts of a dopey rainbow cube going to help the innocent civilians of your war-torn operating system? Where’s the urgency, Rubik?
1I could, if my memory is certain, complete Square 1, but it was more randomly shifting pieces in the permitted directions until the cube was formed than actually “solving” anything,
Finally, my least favorite arrpeejee mini-game available as a standalone title.
I can’t imagine there being any trace of desire to run a slot machine, much less a video slot machine, without even the slightest, nigh-imaginary chance of winning real money. But hey, you can never lose more than 20 dollars! Unless you buy both of these! It has been determined that if you put something in a box, on a shelf, in a store, somebody will inevitably buy one, regardless of what it is, if it has Betty Boop on it (seen here having a border dispute with a price sticker). Still, a more dignified King Features outing overall than Popeye: Rush for Spinach,
even if it lacks an appearance by Jagged Edge Totally Gnarly Rail-Grindin’ Wimpy. Remember, when you think electronic urban non-violent competition for the 21st century, think Popeye the Sailor Man.
You mean besides that it’s boring, totally out of character, and not a strong central basis for a side-view action game?
oh dear I wrote more about popeye rush for spinach