I first posted this on twitto, where my good ideas go to get truncated into misery so that they want to die.

In an attempt to be more useful to people, I have tried to be nearer to them recently. This means also being near their influence device, the television, which makes me aware of things that are incredibly non-relevant to my existence.

More things than usual.

For example, did you know there was a movie called The Interview that was going to be dropped into cinemas, but then was not going to be? In fact it was not about Interviewing; interviews are not cinemized unless they are with Vampires. In this case, some characters are sent to the magical land of North Korea under the pretense of conducting an interview with the leader, Kim Jong Uh, but are actually in town to murder him. It is a comedy. You are meant to assume it is a comedy because we are meant to think North Korea is a big ol joke because the people are repressed by such bizarre despots. You generally do not aspire to despotism unless you have a problem.
I tell you this not because I assume you do not know, but sometimes I reread things I wrote ten years ago in which I assumed the reader DID know something, I and I have by now forgotten.

And you can make a film [ostensibly] about killing a real person so long as he is far off and has no power to stop you. If he has it, then oops. You have little excuse! Fortunately for this crew nobody asks them for an excuse, because they think they are entitled to make that film, and call a revocation of that entitlement censorship.
Supposedly the owning corporation of the film, had a big hack attack by people angry about, among other things, the Interview film being released, specifically due to the north Korea/murder connection and not because they are sick of Seth Rogen and his “gee I dunno a-heuh-heuh-heuh-heuh” facial expressions.

Following some threats to destroy theatres that screened the film, theatres refused to show it, and the distribution company decided to abort the release (but not the TV ads for it). Actors in and out the film called it an assault on free speech.
I believe in “free speech,” but if you wanted to make a major feature film about killing MC Hammer you would likely have to ask permission or change his name. Now, is threatening to blow up movie cinemas on MC Hammer’s behalf a reasonable reaction? Probably not.

Just think, if we had this political climate 22 years ago Hot Shots! Part Deux might never have been made. Not only did its “story” promote a non-historical, overt military mission by the United States to kill Iraq’s then ruler Saddam Hussein, the advertising promoted Saddam Hussein as himself. In fact there was no controversy at all. Maybe Saddam Hussein did not have internet access in 1992. Also, that one was a bit more obvious as a comedy. The poster shows Charles Sheen holding a bug-eyed chicken as an arrow in a bow, for beets sakes. Perhaps not FUNNY to everyone, but no cultural divide could mistake that for a sincere sentiment. Considering that in real life we cut off their beaks, genetically alter them to not grow feathers and make them live their whole lives in darkness, ankle deep in their own filth before we kill them anyway, robin hooding one in a combat situation is benevolent by comparison, and patriotic besides.

What we generally have in our present day comedy cases are situations that are meant to be plausible and we are just supposed to find the awkward banter and dude!ly reactions funny. Dude! You just said something weird! Dude! Your masculinity is of questionable purity! Yeah, no, dude, bro. Just no. I just. Half of Anchor Man 2 was comedy and the other half was somebody in the film reacting to the comedy as if they knew it was comedic, then explaining why it was so.¹ It is somewhat like the laugh track on Full House or The Flintstones except viewers who complain about that stuff pretend it is dissimilar.

Still, I do hope the United Kingdom follows North Korea’s example and starts taking action when an animated film has an out of place Scottish accent in it. Maybe that will calm some of the pro-secession fervour.

Is there proof that the North Korea government itself ordered or was capable of the attack? not necessarily, but somebody either supports the regime or wants to incriminate it. Maybe it is a mega marketing campaign, meant to make an ultimately tame and unadventurous movie seem shocking and enticing. And I wouldn’t want MY movie to open the same day as Robin Williams’ last major film appearance, unless it had nemitz in it and I was deliberately trying to reduce mitz market share. In any event The Interview’s stated premise is tacky. In fact at this point I would not even recommend making a movie about killing Mike Korea without consent.

Thank you Mxy Rimpfrixidy also for letting me post this without asking.

OR MAYBE, could this be a deliberate distraction from the recent torture report? I did notice that the ABC television network’s World News Tonight by last night had dropped the torture story while continuing to find means to bring up the Bill Cosby story, which is even older and longer media-ignored than the torture story, but less incriminating of crooked government, so possibly. Possibly, but if people were going to be outraged about it, they ought to have started long before then, or you could have been outraged that they were not outraged sooner sooner.

Maybe you were! The United States kills with robots, detains indefinitely without trial, makes destitute people homeless for missing payments while billion dollar profit corporations pay no taxes whatsoever, and uses chickens as weapons. I cannot keep up with what everybody is angry about, thinks I should be angry about, or thinks I have no right to be angry about while I ought to be angry about something else. This country is built on centuries of genocide. I have to periodically NOT think about that to get anything done.

I flip out when I cannot figure out what the creature (the younger cat) wants at 3am. I can get angry very easily. Knowing what to do about it is another matter. It can be cathartic to take apart an issue that is too stupid to matter in my life while things that ought to be addressed linger un.

And I heard about The Interview intervention on World News Tonight, the same nationally broadcast information program that broke the story that Froot Loops of all colors have the exact same flavor, this year, half a century after Kellogg’s didn’t bother denying it. If you want real insight, don’t watch something with commercial breaks that comes on before Wheel of Fortune. And if you get stuck near it without trying, don’t form an opinion and obsess over expressing it on websites where people want you to have more important problems.

The CIA report is not even the first torture admission this year. This one came in August. That is the face you make when talking about the torture of folks and folksy torture. Speaking of torture, I forgot I wrote a footnote about Anchorman earlier, so this page isn’t over.

¹A designated stupid character would make an absurd statement and another character would point out how absurd it was and then dwell on it. Ron Anchorman would say, probably yell, something like “I drank half a bottle of ketchup because I thought it was [some alcoholic beverage whose mention got a laugh]!” The other character would respond “really? because half a bottle is six or seven gulps. You should have known after the first gulp.” In a scene with Ron and his chum Brick, Ron would suddenly have the ability to detect and point out absurdity and perform the straight-man function that he formerly and futurely required someone else do for him. “Brick, you realize nobody but you remembers your dream, right?” I believe the delivery of such a correction was meant to be an additional joke and not a clarification for audience members who did not detect the initial absurdity, and maybe the repetition of these exchanges was meant to be a running gag, but it is not a very good gag. Not twelve times in a production with a script, certainly. If you ever saw the mid 1990s Nickelodeon program All That, it was a bit like all this, just with less “really?” And if you never saw All That, that’s all right, and that’s all.

Except there is also a professional wrestling heel/face turn aspect to this and the first film. How many times can Ron Burgundy alienate everyone he knows and then have a big comeback without ever making amends? He does it in the first movie, and twice in this one. He should try what I do, and not bother with the comebaAAAAAAAAAAACK I’VE BEEN ANCHORED

I was not sure whether to have the 5th panel being laugh sincerely, which works better, or sigh dismissively, which is more realistic. This way, however, is ambiguous, which leads to the other party uncertain if it had or had not been understood, and if not, if this topic should be tried again, and in the anxiety over the uncertainty, decide not to, which is yet more realistic.

I did have a few jubilant women of apparently similar age and appearance, unrelated to themselves or me, proclaim at me “you’re gonna be an uncle!” And first of all, if THEY know that, then I know that. Once the unit was out, I was alerted by an actual relation in the form of “you’re an uncle.” Not “your sister has given birth at last” or even “the danged thing is out,” since I knew whose it was. For whatever reason people want to present it in the form of me turning into some gendered word and permanently affixing it to the front of my name, even though had I been dead this process would have carried on unhindered. They mean it is a favor to me, surely, and there is no way to tell them I am discomforted by it without making it a bigger problem than it ought to be. Congratulating me is also upsetting, considering that I actually make things through my own effort that the same people routinely have no interest in or interest in having interest in. Things better than THIS one that you are reading, I mean!

This congratulation means as much as the Big Why supermarket congratulating me on successfully using my free Big Why card while paying for my purchases and receiving one of their weird plastic fake coins for it.

Or at&t uverse congratulating me on being found by their obnoxious automated email and its unnecessary creepy video with a robot voice saying my given legal name that I only gave it because it is legally my name, but not what I want anyone calling me if I have a choice. I bet it would call me UNCLE if it knew and could see two years into the future since undoubtedly it has ways of knowing. It would be easier and less discomforting, for me, to just be allowed to READ the instructions, but I am not allowed to argue with the robot. Human beings are thus going to have to deal with me.

I have probably said so before, but maybe not, since I have not convinced myself I am entitled to harbor the feeling, and in any event this can be taken as my official declaration: I do not consider myself, I am not emotionally comfortable with the idea of me being a “man.” I am a gender-indecisive being. I was born as one thing and did not like it, but I did not want to be the “opposite” either.

It would not be convincing and would require bizarre over-compensatory effort, that would likely result in some people unenthusiastically humoring my effort while others would simply be cruel.

Birdo isn’t even real, and lacks descriptive biology entirely, and still nobody accepts its choice. What chance would I have? Having a perpetually OH NO shaped mouth is fine, but don’t you dare pretend you never had a phallus that you never had.

My body barely works as it is; I do not want to mess with it and risk screwing up and having constant pain roundabout something I would prefer to pretend was not there at all. Though I feel like staying what I started as is lying to myself, trying to be the other would be lying to everyone else. I just want it not to matter. But oh how it insists on mattering.

Male is a statement that makes me uncomfortable. Female is a statement that would make others uncomfortable.

Ordinarily, I can privately not-acknowledge it, and keep me from making it anyone else’s hassle. This week’s matter forces that out and has presented some difficulty. I realize that my problem is not the primary concern of the pregnancy, but it is a concern I will have to deal with alone and without talking through entirely, since none of the exacerbators see it as anything but imaginary, unsatisfiable attention-grabbing. And I start to believe it IS because I always watch for that stuff in others, and am inclined to doubt myself. And thus I hate myself for a feeling that nonetheless occurs, and then hate myself for that.
But my sister Salgorpsponce is fine. The fluid and the tubes are out. There are middle-aged women waiting in line to empathize with her. I can imagine feeling worn out by all the attention. Raising a child is never easy or worry-free, but there is precedent for it. S does not need this website entry to be about that. I am therefore free to talk about my own weird issue.

Of the three siblings, I have been perhaps closest to this one. I knew the two brothers longer, but they became more distant, as they went and lived with/off others, developing disparate extreme political viewpoints, at one point refusing to speak to one another despite both independently concluding that a majority of international heads of state and subordinates should be brought before firing squads (and shot at). They are both comfortable calling themselves and me uncle. They do not know me well enough to have any idea that would irk me. Or perhaps they did but thought I would “get over it.” I am not an over-getter of it. Usually I get around things or go off in another direction. I can survive on private denial, if I may be left to it.
Should I show this to them? I would hate for anyone to read this entry FIRST. I almost hate for anyone to read this at all.

It is one thing to be called by a name. A name is usually more abstract than a word. It may be a man’s name, commonly, but I do not know men with the name. I will not call myself by the name, and will officially change it as soon as I become decisive enough for that, but I became accustomed to hearing it before I developed this specific gendereal issue, so said aloud by someone else (whom I have met already and who is not a condescending robot), it is mostly just a noise by this point. As long as I do not have to say it myself, I can live with it. “Uncle,” however, is very specific, gender-wise. It is like “mister” but more likely to occur outside of scumbagly “business” situations where I can hate the using party for additional reasons, such as including my middle initial, sending me credit card offers or requiring me to use a password that I cannot possibly remember, locking me out of my own account and then acting like that is done as a favor to me, and I ought to be grateful. People who were comfortable calling me an abstract name my whole life want now to put some man title in front of it. And people who only just met me want to do it also. People who barely know me are introducing me with man words to people I have never met at all.

And yet “uncle” is non-specific outside of the gender respect. Rather than a specific person, it is a man out of many men. One of the earlier people I spoke of wanted to use the vague man word in substitution of my name entirely. We do not have a gender-vague word for a parent’s sibling that does not sound like it came from a naive wishy-washy internet forum, because they do, and me insisting on one’s use would be just as dismissable to the people I am having difficulty with as asking for no word. I found advocacy of “pibling,” ostensibly a contraction of “parent’s sibling,” sounds like a little rainbow colored candy that tastes like Mr. Pibb soda. I certainly do not want anybody calling me Mr. Pibling. I might as well try and have people call me skittle or nerd, and I will at least deserve one of them.

It would be the same if we invented our own word, but I would rather have no word.

I know once the baby is in the house there will be other issues, and I will not be at risk of the baby calling me the word for some time, and by that point outside parties should be less excited about tossing it in where it does not belong, and I can ask the one person who matters to not call me that. And then I reckon I have until the age of 7 or so before the child realizes I am a complete loser who needs accommodations at every stage to keep from crumbling into a weeping heap, and starts using the word deliberately to annoy me. I was terrible to my own mother’s weird brother, but he fortunately never had an issue with the binary tree. Or if he did, it did not keep him from functioning.

The creators were able to procreate because they accepted what they were and acted on mutually functional biological impulses. What are my impulses? I have an impulse to create imps but it is not biological, hopefully.

I have been asked: “how’s it feel to be an uncle?” It does not feel like anything! Should it? I am worried at worst and indifferent at best. I suspect the asker did not really care about my answer, and thought it would be interpreted as an upgraded form of “how are you?,” the base level question askers do not want answers to. For them to fulfill a request to stop would be a challenge, since it seems to occur as a thoughtless reflex, just as my negative reaction does, though I am fated to dwell on my reflex afterward.
Clearly I am more affected by adults trying to re-frame my life in the context of this other person’s baby than anything the actual baby did in less than a week. I will admit that I find this baby less ugly than the “adorable” babies I am exposed to in trash media, but this one is usually asleep, with mouth shut and nothing leaking out. This baby would not be in a gross-out cartoon (id est: ANY cartoon) or used to sell products. I am glad to know someone with integrity.

‘Crotch-chops’ and ‘why’ do not mix.

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Why is it the mopey things that get stuck up here for longer than a week?

I saw Maleficent, the 180 million dollar fan-fiction some time ago. I have no idea what movies are playing but I enjoy a cinema visit now and then if someone else I know is also going. “Now and then” means long enough that I forget how much I disliked my last visit.

This cinema sold meals instead of just snacks. Not a bad idea! I would much rather pay twice as much as I should for tacos than six times as much as I should for popcorn.

I was planning to bring a pizza and full serving apparatus like I usually do but the sign said no.

I need to do what I can to keep this place in business so they can keep their terrible posters illuminated and homeless vagrants informed about classics like Blended and

other movies from the guys all night every night.

As to the motion picture the group viewed, Maleficent attempts to humanize and validate an underdeveloped villain by putting her against a different underdeveloped villain, making sure to write him to be totally unsympathetic, so to save us another retcon 50 years from now that shows how perfect and slighted he is. In fact nobody else is sympathetic either. Everybody is stupid, weak and ugly. Except Maleficent!

I almost feel like Maleficent’s movie was made because business sense says she is too pretty to be evil. What that’s not right. Can’t we do something where all the mean stuff is actually done by somebody else? And look at how pudgy and elderly those colored fairies are! We NEED to make a movie where they are stupid and useless. And we’ll change their names to be dumber, too, so everybody gets it. Get me Alfred E. Neuman on the phone.
The only humanoid who understands the greatness of Maleficent is Aurora, because she is pretty, too! You ugly people just can’t relate.

I say, if you want to have a “bad ass” hero, you need to allow the hero to have some psychological or physical shortcoming. Maleficent is like if Bugs Bunny had wings and shot Elmer Fudd and killed him and then was congratulated by Elmer’s family. And instead of giggling goofily Elmer just sulked and acted like he wanted to die anyway. I cannot even think of a metaphor where Maleficent occupies a villain role because nothing about the tone of this film suggests I should ever disapprove of anything she does, except about ten minutes midway through, that seem there only to make content for the trailer. It’s like the ten minutes at the end of a superhero movie where the main characters actually wear their costumes and solve a problem, except in the middle and causing a problem that goes largely unsolved.
Do we put this classic villain in a better light by giving context to her seemingly negative actions? No, we just change the story so she didn’t really do that stuff! So why should anyone care? It is a different character with the same costume and name.

Angelina Jolie executive produced the film and also portrayed the title character. If you executive produce and star in a movie where every other character is uglier and dumber than you, you can fly, curse and kill whoever you feel like, and survive to the end without any valid opposition, the viewing of that movie is likely to be a frustrating experience, and people will assume you set it up that way.
The premise of this film no doubt started with somebody asking “why wasn’t Maleficent invited to the party at the beginning of Sleeping Beauty?” The answer the writers came up with was “because they’re haters. U mad?”
That should be enough but I wrote about six pages of junk about this.

Maleficent is not a bad film but it put swerving people familiar with the previous Disney story ahead of entertaining them. There were plenty of points at which it could have done something that would have made sense and been satisfying, but since the original Sleeping Beauty film had already done it, the script has the OPPOSITE occur just to mess with the audience, and it got really annoying.
Why did you set that up, then? Why did you introduce that character? That is how you write a parody; you use familiar source material and show how ridiculous it is. And then Maleficent not only survives, she gets back the magic power beyond her already unmeasured magic power whose removal was symbolic of her pain, the primary slight she was angry over. She had no consequences or regret about anything in the end. Yes, I hate when a heroic, redeemed or generally likable character in a film dies in a lazy attempt to make the story seem “deep,” but some poetic balance is in order here. In this situation the protagonist has cursed a family, which being a royal family thus cursed the kingdom that served the family’s whims, out of simple revenge that she changes her mind about, but then doesn’t care enough to notify the secondary victims of.

No doubt it caused great anguish for the kingdom to have what appears to be a significant part of its economy destroyed, judging by the number of thread spinning wheels smashed, heaped and burned by man-folk trying to beat Maleficent’s silly, arbitrary curse. It’s no wonder the Luddites got violent when automated textile mills showed up. She might have saved the kingdom from Rumpelstiltskin, but only inadvertently, and since Rumpelstiltskin isn’t pretty he would have joined the other side anyway, scoring another point for contrarian plot twists.

I have my own problem with doing something primarily because it seems like too many people do the opposite. That is why my stories all have terrible endings or are impossible to conclude. Don’t tease me by making 1/3 billion dollars in profits!

Perhaps to make up for the spinning deficit, Maleficent’s noted, unexplored, unquestioned tendency to be scalded by iron inspires a boost in the kingdom’s production of it. However, that causes a massive plothole beyond the illogic of sending your newborn child to live with a trio of idiots you never met before out of fear of something that is not going to happen for more than a decade and a half (the spinning wheel curse-sleep). I am to believe that men producing and operating means of war full time, overtime, for 16 years cannot make any progress against their enemy. Meanwhile this enemy is lounging about in plain view watching a child and some bumbling, sniveling old ladies (written without any redeeming characteristics, naturally) the whole time, never in fear or anxiety for a moment. Is Maleficent a fairy or a god? Intermittently she wanders over near some soldiers –soldiers that are only attacking her because she cursed their king’s family, because the king cut off her wings instead of killing her, which reduced her destructive power by approximately 0% and prevented other hunters from coming after her because they assumed she was dead until she showed herself to deliver the curse– and effortlessly beats them up, smiling and elegant the whole time. She does not pause and consider “these men are out to KILL me using the only substance that can harm me. It is a sad state of affairs. Maybe I should tell them I changed my mind about the curse that caused this so we can both have some peace.” Even the vampires in Twilight were more morally-conflicted super beings. Maybe I am over-analyzing it, but when the goal of your movie is to look clever by showing up some other movie, then you invite examination of your cleverness.

If she could have gotten out of this without killing anyone, or if she helped more than Aurora (the princess), one victim of hers out of thousands, I would say let her live, but that was not the case. Aurora’s mother had to die, though, for no reason, and offscreen, too!

Sleeping Beauty is kind of a stupid story, but since that (the 1959 cartoon version) is also a Disney property, that viewers of this are expected to be familiar with and like, this film is not really in a position to take that apart like it needs to be taken apart for the self-aware, swervy approach to work.

Not only did Maleficent kill the king, she killed the previous king as well. Not directly, but she did use magic power to toss an old man off his horse and he never walked again. And worse, he probably coughed. If you cough in a movie then you have to die.

The king-strike was in defense, of course. But a hero is defined by more than self-defense and revenge. Maleficent does not prove herself more heroic than the men who persecuted her and cut her largely superfluous wings off. If she does, that occurs between the climax and the epilogue and is not shown. She does prove herself better than a single act of malicious intent, but since it was her own act, undoing it only makes things even.

Instead of bringing depth to an old, simple story, it removes what depth there was to ensure that the studio’s desired interpretation is the only one possible, and to make the non-sense fantasy more “realistic.” This is usually how you turn a video game into a movie, not another movie. This film has little value on its own, and it degrades its source to obtain its value. This is also what I hear “Saving Mr. Banks” was about. Not to tell an untold story, just to redefine and emphasize Disney’s preferred image of something, in that case Disney himself.

As if we do not have enough movies where the BAD people are really the GOOD people! Monsters are GOOD! Dragons are GOOD! Despicable Me is not actually me! (I am despicable) Make a film with a “message” if you want, but do not pretend this approach is novel or inspired, or that declaring opposite day on a few elements results in a story that makes sense. Maleficent is one fourth of Rashomon stretched to be four times as long.

I wrote all that two weeks ago but did not post it right away since I was too busy to format it, which was bad because I kept thinking about it and it kept getting longer. Then I read a positive review that claimed the film was “feminist.” Do I look anti-feminist to complain about it? So I had to dwell on that awhile. Between now and then, an openly male individual I talked at on another topic frustratedly suggested I was talking like a feminist, so I may need to consider that “feminist” is often used to dismiss or exalt something without giving an explanation, and may have no real meaning when examined. I do not claim to be any sort of -ist. I am what I am and I ist what I ist.

I will say no (for example), it is not reasonable to expect or demand that women will play professional America foot’s ball on the same green rectangle with men (in fact I question whether men should play football with men). “Equality” is not possible, or necessarily ideal for all things, and the topic requires that we be reasonable. However, it is indeed feasible to make a better film about a flying woman with magical powers than this one. If this film has some feminist concepts, they are independent of how foolish the plot is. Idiocy is not tied to eex or gender. Women and men have the same right to make a stupid movie. A movie where a mother dies for no other reason than to show that her husband is bad for not caring, while nobody else cares either, is consistent with the non-feminist scripts this is supposed to be an improvement on.

Conan the Barbarian is a man who wins many fights and gets revenge, but there is no subtext that he is a decent person, or misunderstood. Conan is entertaining because of how awful he is. His oafiness is comical, whether that is the intended interpretation or is not. He wins fights but there is always a chance that he might not. His movies are incredibly stupid and barely plausible, but they are honest about what they are. And like before, I do not demand a female Conan equivalent. “Female version of” a male something is derivative and secondary, and like M’s movie will have a lot of changes done just to be contrary and not necessarily because they are functional. It should have a bigger goal than that. Also, this almost invariably incorporates sex-appeal toward demographically-charged males, rather than intimidation appeal toward foes, as a core element. If that is a factor for Conan it is not deliberate. I think we can have female adventure heroes without needing them to be glamorous and perfect, and without their lack of “perfection” being used as a comedic element. Or if we make them perfect we should give them more interesting or capable adversaries. Maleficent might be a good foe for Conan. He is enjoyable to see get beaten up.

Next week: If I see a movie I don’t like then I tell somebody right away before I have a chance to figure out why.

yikes
I was tending to some comic matters on Monday; I will see about getting this out of here on Tue’s day.

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It got stupider than I was expecting. That is probably good. It is possibly very, very bad, however. I will try Wedne’s day instead.

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I was shocked as anyone to learn today that Stephen Colbert will not, as I reported earlier, be replacing Barbara Walters on “The View.”

However, the same source assures me that Barbara Walters still intends to replace Alex Trebek.

Alex Trebek, of course, is leaving Jeopardy in 2016 to replace The Ultimate Warrior.

Stephen Colbert will be replaced by Comedy Central’s next-biggest star, ventriloquist Jeff Dunham, who will be replaced by a battle bot.

Daniel Tosh was not in the running, obviously, because he is set to replace Nelson Mandela, who himself replaced Carlos Mencia.

Ben Stein will not be replacing anyone since I managed to temporarily forget that he existed.

As for Craig Ferguson, his contract calls for him to get a late night show on CBS five years after some guy from the Daily Show gets it.

I posted something roughly equivalent to these on twittarrrgh yesterday (yeserday being Thursday). Nobody cared. Nor should they have. I do not do things worth caring about on Twitter. From the looks of things almost nobody does. When they do it makes no sense and I am hoping to catch one of those fluke flows of interest by posting garbage because I never learned any useful skills. Still, it was a much faster and to the point not-caring than accompanied my classic “late night show” related commentary, that I often spent hours dwelling on and putting together.
At one point in my life, when I had approximately less friends than now, I watched many of such programs, and despite whatever inept, skewed idea of how people talk to each other this left me with, I drew my best pictures while peripherally acknowledging and occasionally looking directly at these shows.
I also used to write about them a lot, and from my recollection I primarily complained and it was terrible..

Recently I have written much about them, again but more out of habit and compulsion than because I thought my gripes about what is not entertaining are entertaining. Hopefully that will stay buried.

I had not watched any of the old late night hosts regularly for fivish finkel years, but I liked knowing they were around. I liked there being video evidence that someone I understood and liked before I became stuck in my ways still existed and interacted with the world in the present. Outside my immediate family, and sometimes not even in it, nobody I knew in the 1990s has any contact with me now. These oafs in suits were important to me. They were consistent, and they were just mature enough that I did not arbitrarily decree myself too smart to watch them like I did with stuff that came on earlier (I did not start watching stupid wrestling until 2001ish, I think). Unfortunately, when one of them becomes moderately newsworthy I feel compelled to comment, and that again forces me not only to give it priority I can hardly spare, but also to be unique among commenters, which is not my trait when the topic is relatively normal people.

Now Jay Leno is gone, David Letterman is going, Alex Trebek is going. Alex Trebek is on television earlier in the day and not an especially entertaining presence, not deliberately, but I have to think whoever is put on instead of him will be distinctly irritating. I will be surprised if the Muppets last another 10 years. But that is part of life, right? The stuff you used to like goes away and you cannot stop it. But in my case the stuff I like almost invariably is a few decades older than me. I am stuck in a past I never lived in. And that is absurd; I rely on a computer for almost all things and can create little without it, and society’s attitude toward the mentally ill has improved considerably even in just the last few years. I would be profoundly disabled at this age if I had lived ten years earlier, and if I had lived ten years later I would only have smirky computer cartoons to watch and would be expelled and arrested if I drew pictures of bats killing each other with swords and bombs while at school. I was fortunate! I was merely quietly redistributed to various special education programs throughout the state who saw to it that I learned no skills, that would lead to me panicking about garbage I posted on twitter years later. If my life had gone some other way, this whole post here would be a lie because I did not do any of these things and reading it would be a huge waste of time.

I like Colbert –and I am surprised how much I do; back in 1999 I didn’t understand why Brian Unger and A Whitney Brown got fired but his uninspiring dorkiness got to stay on– but I also like that he only has a half hour program, that he stays in character during interviews, which I now skip on other “talk” programs, and that Comedy Central makes really cheap deals with the musical guests so their performances (or anything related to Breaking Bad for some reason) are usually deleted by the time I get to the show they appeared on in the online archive, since I have been perpetually three months behind for the past year, which prevents me from forcing myself to listen to music I hate just because it seems unfair to dismiss them without a chance to prove themselves. So then with those segments skipped I can more quickly tend to something else of importance, like watching the next day’s show and only being 2 months and 29 days behind.

I worry that I have lost the ability to become fan of new things. Is it stubborn contrariness? Do I sincerely not like the way television and films are made? Am I impossibly jealous as a result of never accomplishing anything, with people younger than me continually arriving and getting recognition? Yes, but is it permanent?

I will not run out of entertainment; I have 15 years of missed video games to deal with, and I still like the old ones that I liked before, and some more than I formerly liked them (though perhaps just as many that I like less). Likewise there are plenty of television shows and films that exist that I have not yet had a chance at. But I am not likely to share an interest with contemporary society again.

I started watching Conan O’Zarkike’s program again (as I divulged) when I started to fixate on these topics, but he is still the Conan that I -stopped- watching a few years ago based on his increasing desire to turn himself into one of those contemporary sorts that I cannot stand, by begging for viewer submissions or devoting uncomfortably large portions of airtime to sponsored content. A few days after I posted this, they showed an Xmen-themed movie trailer straight out during time usually reserved for a comedy attempt piece. One of the pioneers of messing with pretentious movie footage to make it sillier is now content to deliver ads direct, and then show a commercial break. It is not just a matter of Conan pleading with the audience/advertisers to like him after losing a prestigious job; he was doing this before he got and lost that job (the xmen preview was a new low, though). I would not shut up about it. Even the few that I like are disappointing. I have a huge problem.

And worse! I found out just today that Conan’s show used approximately the same joke about Barbara Walters as I did, two nights before I did, because they are put on the Tbs website late and I watch them yet later than that. That there is Conan O’Brien’s semi-cohost Andy Richter inserted into a clip from The View in a sketch that I was too distracted to pay attention to because I was horrified that I now looked like I had ripped this joke off of someone else on twitter. And I actually twittered the joke AT Stephen Colbert’s account. Nobody famous would ever have awareness of anything I did UNLESS I had done something derivative or terrible, and theoretically I would be blocked forever after the first error. So now Stephen Colbert hates me. But since I only think that it is not enough to make me too bitter to watch his show and at least free myself from the never ending duty to watch his program that never stops being made.
It is fine here; I can explain it, and we are surrounded by things too dumb for anyone else to have thought of, providing ample evidence that I have no desire to copy anyone else. But on twitter I only get one chance and no space to explain anything. If I mention something twice I look crazy. Anybody who looks awkward on twitter is dead to the world, unless their gimmick is to be awkward and not think things through. I think things near, far, over, under and through and am still too awkward to acknowledge.
In fact I only know Barbara Walters is retiring at all because of an earlier Conan-related Barbara Walters joke so I cannot even claim that I did not know. Theoretically, nobody else has any awareness of anything I like except momentarily for the purposes of thinking I ripped it off. See I can’t win in this, so it is better if nobody reads my posts. It is not all that original a joke either because its effectiveness depends on the idea of a man taking a woman’s place being inherently funny. I personally disagree on the grounds that Barbara Walters is funny to mention for many reasons, but I am not in any condition to elaborate at this time. Gosh i did not come here to talk about this! I watched the non-guest segments of Tuesday’s Conan as I was eating halfway through formatting this. I am only days behind on that, rather than years, because O’Brien’s gang does not keep old episodes on the internet indefinitely like Colbert’s does, forcing me to be up to date. If there is in fact a complete archive, and for some reason you know about it, please do not tell me. Even skipping the interviews I do not have time to be watching 3 tv shows (I also still watch the Jon Stewart Daily Show from months behind. That is another old gripe. But gee Chris Christie sure closed that bridge lane, didn’t he!).

Somebody probably did that Craig Ferguson joke already, too. Who, I have no idea. There are too many people that I have to beat at everything and even if I do it will not matter, but I am obsessed with trying. And again it is not a joke that is good enough that I should have been heralded for making it, but I should be shunned for taking it. I didn’t, but surely to somebody I look like I did. I will always lose unless I do dumb, useless things. And we all knew that already! So this is also useless, and I need less useless things cluttering my mind, so I must dump them here or risk tripping over them in the dark and injuring myself.

My next post will probably be about Mr. Peanut.

An older picture I recently altered to make prints of for a pumpkin-themed event

See if you can guess which table is mine
(hint: it is the one with the lamest merchandise that the least number of people are looking it)
I sold nothing, but I sold nothing at higher prices than I had ever sold nothing at before. Partially at the urging of the venue owner, and partially because for all my stabs at integrity it means nothing once I can blame something that feels like a lapse on someone else. It also means I now must keep that price consistent or else the people I showed the high price to will get angry when they see something less than that. Or they would if any had paid it.

Anyway, in addition to some free iced tea they were nice enough to let me have the featured artist space for January, (though the decision came prior to my recent performance) and I will have pictures on walls inside the restaurant, which will not have interaction with me as a condition to owning one. The scenario also is feasible that somebody may buy a picture just to get it OFF the wall so that food may be consumed more peacefully. I am intrigued to discover how I will mess this up.

This was an improvement on my last event, where there were mystery boxes dumped directly in front of my table which visitors used for sitting on while facing away from me and eventually for standing facing toward when all the boxes were taken. I would rather fail because of what I did than have nobody know I did anything. When that happens my goal becomes to make people know what I did, and I might not consider that I did something pathetic. After this week I feel like I have taken another step toward my ultimate goal of giving up. After all these months of distractions and setbacks it is nice to be making progress again.

Additionally, you may have become aware of the three for the moment unsightly link “buttons” now at the top of the main bimshwel page. If you had not then now you have, in a sense. One attempts to connect to whatever this is.
In the past i have given out “business” cards to people at events like these, but nothing ever comes of it because if anyone entered the website URL mentioned on the card, instead of art details they would see instead endless rambling about supermarkets and dumb things people do on the internet (such as write about it). Now they can find pictures, if they wait a few seconds for those awful “buttons” to load, and then they can see the pictures and think “yep, that’s the stuff I didn’t buy prints of today sold by that awkward weirdo who kept saying ‘hello’ out of forced habit but had no natural social inclinations beyond that. Gosh that was upsetting. Why did I take this card?”

I intend to make the awful buttons less awful, but I also intend to go running once in a while and eat pizza less often.
Ideally, the gallery’s rather default-looking setup is only temporary. Even so, it is rather nice for something free, I think. And unlike other free galleries, when something does not work it is not done deliberately as a ruse to try and sell me non-free version. It might be unethical for me to use something free as a means to make a profit, but I have not actually considered any way to use this for that purpose. I imagine I could send art-work through the mail. My imagination usually gets me into trouble.

Here is what my ridiculous imps would look like if I had business sense. More gimmicky, impossible to tell who drew them, and seemingly ripped off of other commercial properties. Is this an official spinoff of trolls or little ponies or care bears or an unrelated venture trying to chase the same buckwagon? People only relate to things that I do not relate to. They want to buy things that remind them of other things they have been ordered to buy. I would never buy one, and thus I am ill-equipped to make something that a buyer of these would buy.

Of course this display was gone the next time I came into the store and I have never encountered the name “zelfs” since nor had I prior to then (and I must be clear that I do not desire to), but that can also be desirable. If your soulless, derivative, cynical grab at money fails, you want everyone to have forgotten it by the time you make your next attempt at reminding people of stuff that worked. You might notice that is the opposite of my personal feeling, where I prefer to be remembered and to not remind anyone of anyone else. If I saw something that reminded me of me and it made money I would get mad, because then I would need to change me to seem like I wasn’t copying me.

It is common, on the art websites I use, for a participant to become infuriated at “art theft,” in which somebody tries to sell another person’s pictures and collect money for it. I don’t even matter enough for anyone to bother. I would probably doubt that if I heard it happened. If it was TRUE and it worked I would consider trying to take the perpetrator on as a business partner (an unbiased observer might advise that person to turn me down). The closest I came to “art theft” was when I taped a huge pencil drawing to a wall beside a door at the university while I went to retrieve some other things, and it fell off, and somebody picked it up and walked off with it because it looked like abandoned garbage rather than a legitimate finished project that the artist was trying to take home. When the person was persuaded by police intervention to give it back I almost felt bad. I felt like I had ruined several people’s days (not including mine). I wanted to thank the unidentified taker for wanting it. The party which I retrieved it from offered no comment on the quality. I might have let the person keep it but I had not scanned it yet and I needed to bring it back at the end of the semester for a grade anyhow (rubbish generally gets a better grade than nothing at all). Currently it is on a shelf smaller than itself behind me with other things stacked on it and probably no longer in displayable or theftworthy condition.

I will answer the writer Mark Joseph Stern’s question with a parable.
At least once all up in a time, the Slate magazine website posted a substanceless, speculation-filled article with a loaded headline in an attempt to build controversy, make a few dumb people think they are smart, a few other dumb people really angry and overall waste everybody’s time. I decided it was silly. The end [7 paragraphs later].

No, gay people are not smarter than straight people, and straight people are not smarter than gay people, and anybody who gives in to this sort of thinking, wondering if one should win or one can win is an idiot, gay or otherwise.

The full, post-lure title includes “or do they just work harder?” but that is even worse, in a sense, because it implies one of those options MUST be true.

Is it not enough to have “men vs women” a core component of pointless, unwinnable, non-debate? Why can’t we treat this like racial questions? This same writer would be asking “are asians smarter than whites?” if that wasn’t likely to get him fired, and if it wasn’t it wouldn’t be a new question. So why doesn’t this get anyone fired? We know people are different. Generalizing about intelligence never gets us anywhere. Most people consider intelligence a fundamental aspect of their being. Attempting to rank huge segments of the population by this basic yet hard to quantify attribute has never been good for humanity and isn’t likely to start.

There are not but two sides to the world. straight v bent is like democrats v republicans. It divides people needlessly while also insisting that it is sufficient to pick one imperfect thing over one other imperfect thing and that this is in everybody’s best interest. It encourages us to argue passionately about GARBAGE. Look even I am doing it.
complacency about one’s intelligence is one of the dumbest behaviors I encounter, and it’s about even between gay and straight people. An article like this will only increase that behavior in either of them.

It may be possible for “straight” types to go longer in life without having their fundamental beliefs or feelings questioned, which may make them more inclined to be stubborn on everything and never consider other possibilities. Increasingly, however, gay people are taught to believe there is nothing out of the ordinary about their preference (thus holding up the concept that ordinary is something to strive for) and they are RIGHT and should be PROUD and so become inclined to be just as insufferably set in their ways, and just as inclined to track down rubbish like this article to use as “proof” of their own superiority as the opposing side, which ideally wouldn’t be opposing them at all.
And anyway there are other ways to be misunderstood or disliked than what sort of person you make sex on. I don’t do it to anybody and that’s not the biggest thing that keeps me from relating to them.

People are bullied and tortured for being or seeming homosexual. I am not saying that is good. I just think pride is excessive. Criticism is not persecution.
On a similar note, my previous blowing up about Nazi symbolism should not imply I am one of those ultimate “friend of Israel” types. We shouldn’t be afraid to point out when the Israeli government does something cruel or foolish. It DOES and it gets away with that because it is proud and can easily equate criticism with persecution.

Mr. Joseph Stern determined who was smartest by what category of people were getting genius grants. This one time, even though gay people have existed for longer than a year. I saw a few years ago another article about the smartest cities in the country and determined the winner by counting libraries and museums. You can’t determine overall intelligence quantity by such limited categories. I question if we really can at all.

A direct quote from today’s article:
“Gays are wealthier and better educated than most Americans; shouldn’t that indicate that they’re also smarter?”

It shouldn’t! That is centuries, millenia-old self-justifying nobility dogma whose only result is that they vote themselves higher salaries and lower taxes. That’s how we get manifest destiny and slavery and all that manner of horror. The fact that more multimillionaires are openly gay than previously doesn’t make them all grand and noble now. I realize this as slippery a slope argument as “what’s next? letting people marry animals?” but this has historical precedent. I do not think slavery of non-gays is likely or feasible, but it starts like this. When you declare one group less smart than another group you declare them less worthy of decency.
I denigrate intelligence too often, but I avoid declaring a “smarter” group. I also avoid putting faith in group that has proclaimed itself worthy to declare a smart group. The sad fact is that a declaration of superior intelligence often arises over evaluation of a subjective matter, often in artistic fields. I don’t believe any of us is smart enough to know who is really smartest, and we only hurt ourselves as a species when we convince ourselves that we are.

I do not say “nobody is smart.” I say trying to label everyone accomplishes nothing good, and I have said it for years. If I do it, it is for amusement purposes and should not be mistaken for serious journalism, and I will never pretend I know who is the most superior.

This reminds me that deviantart, the ostensibly free visual art website, recently fulfilled my prophecy and gave paying members huge stars next to their names. Fortunately, and for the first time of those when I paid attention, more people are protesting the garbage change than supporting it, but not without some priveleged bootstrap class elitism slipping in.

Criticism isn’t just persecution, it’s an act of treason. Observe how it doesn’t matter if these two are homosexual.

And without switching websites:

I won’t point fingers but I have a theory that one of these openly male artists is gay and the other one isn’t, but I think they actually have a lot in common. They both blame someone else, for one thing.

Back to my “point,” plenty of idiots go to college. And plenty of idiots are inclined to imagine they are smart BECAUSE they go to college. They could be exceptions, but that would still call the criteria into question, and assist in calling the question into question. By this definition of intelligence it really doesn’t matter who is smarter. You could ask “are gays better at adhering to arbitrary constructs of society than straight people?” And you wouldn’t because straight people built them.

Another quote:

“Gay people might just work harder than their heterosexual counterparts”
And you just might have NOTHING and be tossing out speculations about things that are impossible to verify so you fill more space.

The article concludes with the author ADMITTING that there’s nothing:

“Gays might be overrepresented in the “genius” pool—and the Ivy League, and the Fortune 500—but there are more than enough dumb gays to even out the numbers.”
but never considers that his criteria is garbage. Nor that there is any alternative to being a “genius” than being “dumb.” “Intelligence” determines many things and is not a single value that can be conclusively measured. He also does not appear to consider that there might be any alternative to being hetero than homo sexual.

we can probably say that whoever bought this magazine to gain home access to the “who’s gay” list is probably a moron. And still I can imagine a remote exception in which that would not be the case.

I saw these both the same day and wasn’t even taking a picture of this one, an issue of Globe. I think I was aiming at an US weekly for some reason. I only noticed it now when I was trying to find my picture of the Examiner cover. Maybe we can talk about “smart” when we stop caring who is gay.

And yet I think we have come a long way even since I have been on the internet.

Nobody even wonders if Pokemon are gay anymore.

You know what, forget it. I would like to wash my hands of this matter, but I am currently at an important business meal engagement. What-ever shall I do?

Boh fiddlesticks.

Next time I will wear my dinner [fingerless] gloves.

Seeing that life in magazine form last week reminded me that Jack Nicholson was in the 1989 Batman movie, and how surprised I was when I finally watched it, roundabout 2009 and found it just about as silly as the Joel Shoemaker Batman films it was supposed to be powers greater than. I was expecting a dark, edgy Batman but it was preposterous. I thought the sequel, 1992’s Batman Returns would have to be better, due to lacking The Joker and any totally inappropriate Prince songs, but I forgot that Danny Devito was in it and Michael Keaton again.

This is a good role for Danny Devito, but not a good role for a film that thinks it is anything apart from ludicrous. I only got to seeing it a few months before now. I do things at my own pace! It isn’t such a big deal that 12 years passed between when I started college and received a bachelor degree when it took me almost twice as long to watch two Batman films. And even considering that tastes change in such a period, it was hard for me to take, especially after encountering for much of that length the notion of how badly the subsequent films made a solid and noble franchise abruptly laughable.

It is “dark” in the respect that people get shot and fall out of buildings, but it is still a smirking hokefest that makes the title character look more clownish than his adversaries (many of whom are actual clowns). Bruce Wayne comes across like a total goof with his weird haircut, christmas sweaters and Glenn Beck glasses.

Do I just have the wrong expectations? The better Batman comics support a view that Batman is “real” with Bruce Wayne a persona maintained to preserve secrecy and financing for Batman’s operations, so if it serves his purposes to have Bruce be a dork he will do it. But here he is dorking it up as Bruce Wayne in the Batcave. BRUCE WAYNE IS NOT ALLOWED IN THE BATCAVE!

Clearly sweaters are important to Bruce Wayne, since he sometimes buys extra airplane seats for them, but he does not wear them unless urgent circumstances require it, and never in the Batcave!
This film just treats him like Clark Kent without magic powers, though, so in this context I am supposed to believe that this is how somebody who becomes Batman wants to be perceived. If possible he would quit being Batman and have his butler bring him hot chocolate all day. A more convincing Batman wouldn’t know what to do with himself if the crime ran out. I relate to that Batman because nobody can really relate to him.

Not only is Christopher Walken, who is absurd, prominently in the film, there is another person in it doing an impression of Walken, and both are less ridiculous than the main characters DESPITE wearing bowties.

I especially disliked the ruse through which Bruce Wayne puts Penguin back into public disfavor amidst his promising mayoral campaign. Penguin is giving a speech, and then Bruce jams up in the frequency of the speech. I know this because there are several scenes of him jamming frequencies while Alfred wears ridiculous headphones and gives “OK!!!” gestures and a television monitor shows the message “JAMMING FREQUENCY.” This causes, to emit from the Penguin’s loudspeakers, some audio Batman had recorded earlier of the Penguin saying something like “ha ha, got em!” and then Wayne loops it endlessly, which proves the Penguin means it, because he said it so many times.


The actual line is “You gotta admit, I played this stinkin’ city like a harp from hyellll!” which is a peculiar phrase and I had to hear it about 20 times to figure out what it was. The audience only hears it about 15 times but recognize it immediately. “NOBODY plays Gotham city like a harp from hell by golly ohare! ESPECIALLY not after calling it stinkin’!”

Even though it is weird and bruce wayne is doing some mix dj scratch thing to it that should make it obvious as an altered voice, even though he CAN’T do that because he is playing a compact disc and not a vinyl record, which means the sound data is stored digitally and not in a linear analog fashion, but Tim Burton just thought “CDs, those are like high-tech records, right? Those sound like things Batman would have” without considering that they operate differently, even though it should be obvious because there is no needle. I would accept this from the Adam West Bat-Man series, but nobody had CDs then so the situation did not arise.

So this one bit of audio out of context, that clearly is not being spoken by the speaker or any non-robot and that doesn’t follow from the speech he had been giving at all is instantly taken as full, inarguable proof of Penguin’s full corruption by every person in the city who likes him even though there only appear to be about fifty attending his speech, which suggests he had no hope of being elected anyway. None of those people wonder “where is this looped bit of inexpertly remixed audio coming from? Should we so quickly doubt this man we came from so far to trust?”

Penguin makes no effort to explain it, despite his gift for schemes and misleading people and having already established that people are prejudiced against him, and the audience begins literally speaking some very enunciated “boo!”s accompanied by Tony the Tiger gestures, followed by tossing obscene amounts of produce, which Penguin identifies as “eggs and tomaytas” on camera as lettuce and tomatoes strike his umbrella.

They generate it out of their hands like they are monsters from video games. This whole scene could have been presented absurdly, to show that the people of Gotham City are fickle and treat politics like a vaudeville show, but it is presented as if it is plausible.
I don’t think there is a way to do that plausibly!


I hate hate hate that plot contrivance. I hated it in UHF der film and that one episode of the simpsons, although those two were even less plausible. In both of them some rich guy boasted about how he tricked people, and a clever protagonist started filming it and this was instantly broadcast on every television box in the world without a batcave full of computers to jam with frequencies or interrupt current programming. You turn on the camera and everybody everywhere sees it and despite how weird that is, they trust it.
It must be acknowledged that this is normally one of Joker’s schemes. He is constantly taking over every broadcast outlet at once and threatening people, and it’s never explained how, in the context of this world that is supposed to be so gritty and hard-realistic. TV is just MAGIC.
After all that, as I said, Penguin pulls out his umbrella to defend against the killer eggs and then opens fire on the crowd. Fortunately they all have military training and instantly drop to foxhole position and none are killed. Still, as the only person in town who knows Penguin’s umbrella is made out of a machine-gun, Batman should have been THERE and beating Penguin up in front of people instead of pulling tricks out of Bosko cartoons. The REASON for the roundabout method is that the public adores the Penguin for reasons demonstrated as expertly and convincingly as anything else in the film and Batman cannot beat him up without exposing him as a fraud first. Except Batman CAN do that because Batman is unconcerned with public opinion when there is a risk of potential parents being shot. It works in Batman’s favor when criminals think he is NOT working with the police. Since this is Batman versus the Penguin and not Flagstroop McGrit versus Arab-looking Fellow there isn’t any risk of the “SEE? Unlawful detention and torture saves LIVES” subtext that our present biased left-wing media loves so much.

Also consider that Wayne jams not the broadcast television signal, but the connection from Penguin’s microphone to the local amplification system, because the people in that crowd there hear the edit. That means Wayne had to go all the way to city hall, mess with the wires on those specific microphones, then go all the way back to the Batcave to engineer his giggle symphony.
the actual “fight” between batman and penguin lasts about 7 seconds, and then penguin’s hideout explodes for 20 minutes. All in all a film that exists.

All this is not to say that Batman Forever is superior or as good or any good –I have not viewed it in its entirety since its initial release and recall nothing of substance about it–, merely that its descent into hokeyness is consistent and picks up where Tim Burton left off. Let us be rid of the fantasy that Tim Burton directed great and sensible Batman Films. When people say Batman Returns is “dark,” that just means there is blood in it, and possibly worse lighting. That does not have any bearing on how stupid it isn’t. Batman Forever is the “less dark” and it still finds an opportunity to present the mentally disabled as hilarious morons wearing 1930s straight jackets. (Disregarding this time that the name “asylum” suggests the residents should have some safety there, since Arkham Asylum is accepted to primarily house unrepentant murderers). It may not be reasonable to expect anything more mature than that from a film series about a man who dresses like a bat to combat people who dress like other animals.

People that I have met in person claim the ABC saturday morning sonic hedgehog cartoon is “darker” than a contemporary syndicated cartoon series that was consciously ridiculous. Alright, but it’s still abundantly embarrassing, and without being able to blame anything on Japanese weirdness.
My favorite scene that I recall shows 2-Face at The Circus, where he threatens to [something] if Batman did not reveal himself. Of course Bruce Wayne IS at The Circus, so he stands up and starts yelling out “I’m Batman!” over and over again but nobody hears him doing that. I tried to find that scene in your tube but all I found were dorks who video-recorded their heads emitting the exact same reviews this movie got when it came out 18 bloody years ago, plus a staggering amount of gorbos playing, and usually not especially well, the innumerable worse ports of the already terrible Super Nintendo game vaguely based on the film. If people will watch THAT then they don’t need to be complaining about the less bad thing that is based on.


But NIPPLES on the BAAAATSUT!
First of all that is not an argument, and not my fault anyhow! I think the case could be made that if Batman Forever had not have been produced, Batman Returns could never have been favorably compared against it, and people would see it for what it is and be less inclined to

That is enough for today.

Hey, let me tell you something. I do not NEED your permission to tell you anything!

========================================

A few bims ago I got into the topic of people pretending to be Nazis on the internet.
You might be aware that I have had my own accusations of insensitivity with regard to Hitlery activities, and I have considered the potential hypocrisy of me whining over this. But I didn’t say so then so I say it now. My use of nazy imagery behind generalissimo eli was meant to be seen as conspicuously bad taste, and if I thought that could not be determined from the context I would have changed it so that it was. These people think it is GOOD taste.
When I was in fourth grade I remember seeing another student draw a big swastika in a notebook. Nobody had ever told me that the Nazis butchered citizens of their own country, but I recognized the symbol from a book in my house and from a bizarre “ducktators” cartoon i had at one point on a vhs tape (that like any other cartoon I watched just because it was a cartoon without considering what its point was) and just thought “hey that IS a neat symbol. I will draw it in MY notebook too!” So after every suit-wearing man in the school district decided I was safe to return to the class, I naturally recited a jerky poem about how I can like whatever I want and nobody has the power to stop me.

This notice about returning was posted on the page of the person in question shortly before she was barred from returning to this specific fur-themed website. Actual Nazis’ lack of belief in free expression is one of the major things that defines them as nazis, but this has nothing to do with “free speech.” You can’t (or shouldn’t be) arrested for stating opinions, but you have no constitutionally granted right to use any website. And if we disregard the law, because it is often needlessly harsh and arbitrary, plus generally not written with the internet in mind, and consider what would be the “nice” or morally just thing to do, this person probably should have been tossed in a dumpster four years earlier. I would feel that way if I encountered this without any backstory.

“Free speech” is meant to give you also the opportunity to defend your opinion. Legally you do not have to, but if you merely state it and claim you are entitled to it, then it comes across like you CAN’T defend it, especially if you have plenty of time to write poems and draw pointless animations whose only purpose is, once again, to bother people. The supreme court might support your right to use the swastika to annoy people, but they might also agree that Richard Garriott can come sleep in my bed any time he wants because the end user license agreement for the Ultima Collection CD I got 14 years ago says so. Nobody reasonable would accept that.

As far as what these opinions are, “cartoon cats should proudly wear world war 2 nazi swastika armbands” is an opinion, in a sense, I suppose, and it isn’t just furries who are going to not like that.
This is controversial or contentious like putting a pancreas in someone’s mailbox is controversial: it isn’t, it’s just illogical and can’t possibly accomplish anything. No publicity is bad publicity, right? But this is because less than 15 people will ever read this. Nobody will give the crispy cat a book deal because I linked to its page.

I have made jokes about the famous September 11 2001, because the hype and the federally, commercially mandated mourning was an artificial and unpleasant, and often laughable waste of time. But I never made it a major life goal to post things on the internet designed foremost to be a nuisance. And still I felt bad about some of it, eventually. You can’t even compare nazi stuff to other symbols; 70 years of remembering history to avoid repeating it have removed it from logical consideration.
There could be a time in United America and Germany when swastikas mean good luck and good times, but nazis themselves wearing swastikas will always be genocidal murderers, and that stuff isn’t only in these two countries or the past. There are active Nazi groups in Russia. There are a few in the parliament of Greece, and not in the “Heil Obama, he wants to use the power the constitution grants him” sense; people who would kill their own citizens out in the open, without even sending them to secret prisons first, if they got enough of their own in the room for a vote. A legitimate attempt to desensitize people to this solves nothing.

The acquaintance I mentioned last time also draws the characters without swastikas, because he found the response to his first picture, which fully featured them, lacking, but he still credits the characters to this crispy person who is deliberately horrid, and then tries to promote the horrid person to someone like me (or did, one single time). I won’t give a gummy bear to somebody whose existence I can’t justify (not even a clear one; I actually like them now); I certainly wouldn’t spend hours drawing pictures for them, especially if I had to deliberately mischaracterize the subjects. The characters aren’t particularly distinctive anyway. You could draw any dumb white cartoon cat and call it an “original character” and avoid associating with creeps like that. It would still be a boring style pastiche but I suppose that is beside the present point. In fact as far as I can tell nobody but me cares whose characters he is drawing so long as he takes out the swastikas, even though if they are the same characters they are still nazis, because part of being a furry is being able to look at a dumb cartoon like Balto or Rescuers Down Under or something drawn to resemble one and not realize how dumb it is, and that’s why they enjoy each other’s company and I don’t.

Apart from trying to conclude an unfinished thought, I also couldn’t handle bimshwel being the last “video game humor” website to not have the condemnatory, excema suffering Master-D on it. I cannot do anything about its ultimate fate as the last website.

Speaking of cruel, power-mad dictators with low opinions of Anne Frank,

I cannot tell you what manner of female human Justin Beepler desires (It might affect listeners’ abilities to imagine they specifically are being sung at if they had details, after eh).

However, our own Never-Seen (not even now; I refuse to look) bimshwel exclusive photographs show that purple hair and knee-high yellow boots do not tickle his fancy. Walking barefoot on one’s toes while wearing blue capri pants is the only way to go.

Apart from specifically choosing to look like an extra from West Side Story, the recording industry’s current Justin’s transition from a welch’s grape juice advertisement-look is nothing new. It is the standard “hey Media I have SEX now watch out” forced image makeover. Usually people try to become trashy or thuggish, unless they already have a thug image, in which event they elect to remain thug-like. Nobody ever thinks “maybe I should change my public image of sex-driven, overpaid, selfish, untrustworthy moron.” In fact that is often a condition for them to continue being granted the luxury of being one (unless they become nazis or mildly overweight). What is notable is that this is the fourth time I have mentioned he-who-biebs despite only ever having heard one of his songs and only learned it was his on a technicality. This could give people the impression that I sometimes have really elaborate opinions on topics I know nothing about.

There was a time when writing became an overwhelming burden, because I made the job too difficult, and I resorted to posting pictures I made in the absence of long written pieces, and then later I realized that, owning the website, I was entitled to do that, and later still I felt bad about it again and posted neither words nor pictures. Those were some tough times.

You should always bring a hat to protect against burns.

I think this fulfills my blue sky quota for the year.

Feel free to use this as the title screen to your terrible 1992 super vga shareware game.

a “bear” because the original sketch 9 or so years ago had a similar looking creature in it. I could change it but I have not thought lately. What I did change was the potential victim to ant, instead of a rat. I thought the rat was more stylish but was of improbable size and presumed quickness to suit this pasttime. And then I drew the replacement ant at the size of a rat because I was still hurting from my loss. I wish somebody who otherwise had no sympathy for humanity would take pity on me.

And I suppose you could say ah ha! Obviously nazis dislike gays so this is a JOKE. Like duh derp rainbows Uhhhh? but if it is, it’s a really crummy joke that is more concerned with bothering people than making anyone laugh. A joke that has the dual service as a trap for people who aren’t in on the joke, so that wrath can be directed at them for not being in on it.

Fortunately that mental acrobatics isn’t necessary because, like this one who has reported on a previous posting by me of the previous image, there actually are people who think adopting Third Reich names and symbolism is stylish and acceptable [for their otherwise stylish and acceptable misanthropic animal personas], which requires totally different but more publicized mental acrobatics to comprehend. Either they have no concept what real National Socialists actually were, and willingly keep themselves from knowing, making them morons, or know full well and have no problem with it, and I don’t understand how somebody raised in this country in this time period can get to that position.

In fact I have been more closely acquainted with at least one person who thinks neo-nazi-ism isn’t a big deal so long as the culprit draws cute kitty-cats.

And I probably don’t help it by changing the subject away from condoning Nazis,

because I was concerned I was being too hard on my conversation opponent because I knew I was annoyed at him already, for other reasons, such as liking other artists I had different problems with. But thinking now (glad I thought of it), I shouldn’t silence myself to preserve a relationship where I must constantly silence myself, for it is always the same reason: these people don’t care/notice how horrid or infantile anyone else is so long as the cute distribution operation is maintained. The fur-folk crum-bummunity thrives on that, but it is symptomatic of society in general. We treat babies like royalty (because they are “cute” to someone) and if they have a marketable talent then they may get to grow up feeling entitled to special treatment. Noisy, abrasive, uncontrollable, but they draw/sing/wear/remove clothing nice so they get away with it. People who are aware it is horrible say nothing because they can make money for themselves by filming and producing television programs about it. The fantasy of entitlement is “reality.” This “cute” nazi fan artist has nearly 1900 known regular observers, a majority of whom may be presumed to condone the whole thing. There’s no incentive there to alter the behavior. There are 14-year-olds who aren’t necessarily nazis but have 3 times the following and it’s just normal to them that whatever awful they thing they do, if even 3% publicly support them or think they stand to gain something by seeming to, there will be 90ish people to say “great job living!” If I said “that person is a Nazi!” in any other context I would look like a hyperbolic kook, and now that I can say that, the response is “I know, isn’t it cute?”

Anyway, the point is that sometimes it is better if people like me just post drawings without saying anything.

All this is not to say there aren’t individuals who deserve the gas chamber, but that needs to be decided on a case by case basis.

The topic continues over here.

I cannot answer that, but I can tell you which New Haven, Connecticut-based university probably doesn’t have a front page space devoted to this comparison. Arbitrary lists of cartoon series titles qualified based on nothing may be a tougher call.

The list’s presence, prominence, perhaps is a dubious complaint for me to make with regard to this comparison, because I think college newspapers in general are unnecessary apart from letting students think they’re good at something that seems important but isn’t, and isn’t that hard either (regardless of whether that is the fundamental function of college for most people). Maybe getting the thing arranged, printed and distributed -on time even- is an accomplishment, but imitating the bland tone of a paid journalist isn’t. I saw somebody reading the yale newspaper on The Bus once and it was filled with great big headlines and white space. I could almost read the main print from where I was and I could tell I wouldn’t have cared to even if I were a student of the place’s, and I don’t even think it was about football. I think it was about grass. Like on the ground, outside. Oh oh hey what’s this?

Breaking news: football won the football game

Anywany, the real difference is in the benefits: You Yale folks think you’re all hot,

getting discounts at vegetarian restaurants and

dentists and what not

we get the getty mart! look, they even almost spelled the sign saying so properly. WE get to buy lottery tickets and cigarettes! We don’t get any discounts, but we can pay full price at any time of day (with our Hoot Loot), if we’re lucky enough to not be murdered when we come down this street after 6pm.

It’s not like that’s Krauszer’s, or something. That’s in the other direction. Getty Mart: it’s on the SAFE side of the school!

Dear students: we didn’t catch the guy.
In the interest of uninteresting pedantry, I should add that this notice is from last year and there was a fairly high-profile murder at Yale of a student by another, and that we’re all lucky to get out with our lives. Why focus on the differences? Regardless of your income level, you can die at college in New Haven.

8:49am, february 14, 2012: I arrived at the art building to find this memo taped in various places. After my first class was over all the memos were missing. I’d never have even known there had been any accusation against David Chevan, someone whom I had never had a class with or met or seen if not for that. An accusation is not proof, but failure to acknowledge an accusation is not a solution. Anyway,

Now I am conflicted. I am heavily anti-creep, but I am also a creep. Rarely deliberately. If I were removed from the school for that reason I never would have seen this to know why.

Please don’t use this ending.

Does it increase sales to promote the college’s merchandise as being licensed by itself? is this distinction necessary? I would sincerely be more interested in bootleg scsu junk. Both what and why.
I had assumed this was the same sort of thing as Stop and Shop’s generic brand food, utterly lacking in prestige and cheaper than the competition, but SCSU rubbish is actually MORE expensive, and its mascots are worse than stop and shop’s.

Yes, I am saying even this generic dinosaur is more appealing than an owl, or Ceramic Fred Flintstone. I think the implication is if you eat little rocks out of a fish tank for breakfast every day you too can turn into one (a rock, not a fish tank).

It worked for this guy, anyway, even if he lacks the charisma of a Rock. That is a cartoon representation of professional wrestler John Cena in a pose and level of detail that would surely be incompatible with the budget of The Flintstones. He also starred in a movie called The Marine, which allows me to retract my previous parenthesis because a fish tank is the closest he has ever come to actual military service. I’m as much a marine as he is because I rode in a jeep with one once. He kept a big knife on the passenger side, I presume, to give him more of a challenge if he needed to kill me because he suspected I might tell people he was at a furry convention.

Ehhh after Hulk Hogan urged kids to train themselves and eat proper vitamins throughout the 1980s and was revealed to have been using a different sort of “vitamin” the entire time, I suppose it could be an effective confoundment strategy for the World Wrestling Ederfation to imply its most pushed and therefore most scrutinized star –because the amount of push WWE gives a man is directly related to how many steroids he looks like he is taking– eats total garbage and watches cartoons all day. How could he be juicing? There’s no fruit juice in those things! Are there any serious questions? Oh dear out of time.

I couldn’t figure out why a 70-sheet notebook cost $3, and I only looked at the school’s brand because I assumed it was cheapest. I assumed it was my perk as a student to be allowed to buy cheap notebooks. Not at all. In the school’s mind, it is my perk to be allowed to buy official SCSU notebooks. I should pay extra to do so, beyond the tuition. With that in mind the recent email advertisement for branded school merchandise is not surprising.

It is assumed that I am a “fan” of the school’s athletic department simply because I am in attendance at the institution they are vaguely connected with. I’ve never even been at the part of the campus where those sorts congregate. I don’t know why anyone who didn’t have to, would. Certainly I’ve been seeing people wearing SCSU GO OWLS sweatpants since I’ve been here, but I assumed, as before, that this was simply because the stuff was cheap and convenient to purchase. That is in the minimal exertion spirit of sweatpants. I wore sweatpants every day of my life before I learned how to be ashamed.
But this, it is very proud of itself. It wants me to also be proud of itself. I cannot be proud while wearing sweatpants! I don’t like owls much, either, except for when I had a cat that thought he was an owl.

I think they look funny, and I like that they’re supposed to be really “wise” but in fact tend to be dumber than other real birds (which may be appropriate), but I am not taken by their visual presence. Owls are scary outside in darkness, where they are hard to see and make creepy noises. In full light they’re boring. In fact,

I just blacked out. What… what have I done?

And the school wants me to come in on a SATURDAY to buy stuff. I ha[d] an hour free every thursday [when I wrote this] and I NEVER go in there. Why would I set aside two hours to deal with buses, get in there, and deal with buses again to get back here? I wouldn’t have to come home if I never left it. The last time I went out I accidentally killed an owl, anyway. I don’t trust myself outside right now. The world is safer with me at home.

I am not the person I was when this entry started.

Oh jolly good.

I stopped watching as many tumble people [two years] after I realized it was making me mad. I thought “hey why not track the updates of people you (me) actually have met in person rather than forklogans from the internet that I don’t have a realistic idea of?” This was a stupid idea. I traded tumblr for the facebook I had ignored since I signed up and it was just as dumb.

Hey did you hear that something blew up in Boston last week? What I got from this explosion business –being emotionally detached from things that I don’t directly experience– was the face book face folk behaved exactly as I thought they would (nobody I encountered in public mentioned it). A few had legitimate worry or concern, and some others had to grasp at whatever they could to -appear- concerned, because corporate public relations departments are our strongest role models. This fortunately did not happen nearly to the extent that it did after the twin tower situation, although I haven’t been watching television, and I wrote that sentence after only one day of it.

Oh excuse me, I shall watch my terminology in the future. Right, in the aftermess of the initial mess some of the people started complaining about “the media” not leaving them alone, and also that “the media” got facts wrong, and then THIS showed up. In the lower right corner is a url for a page on facebook “conspiracy2012andbeyond.” Facebook is very much “the media” and if there was a conspiracy facebook would be in on it. Tell Lie Vision can’t actually watch you back yet. The 1980s model in the picture certainly cannot and may have been deliberately broken for other reasons.

One thing that seems to be increasing is the tendency for those who criticize the behavior of others to point out “death and disaster happen EVERY DAY in this country or that.” I think people are entitled to grief, provided it is their own. The trouble is when America expects other countries to sympathize with its grief, and then they do, even though America has never shown an inclination to pay this back unless a disaster meets a minimum threshold for publicity. As if there is some chart like outside a trabant “your disaster must be this famous to get recognition from Americans” and then its exposure is way over done and underthought, with celebrities and music videos all over it, to the degree that it seems like a marketing campaign for a product and not something that people have gotten dead from (see also: Kony, unless you’re like me and only found out about it after the point when people were laughing at other people for having seen it and fed it dollars).

Some of the slightly less cynical types still do nothing but reblog solid garbage all day, just of a more saccharinely “inspirational” tone, and it was hard to notice the difference from before. I can imagine someone thinking “i will look truly moral and righteousness if i “share” THIS…” and it would have to be imagined because I don’t reckon that much thinking occurs.

and they like it that way. Think too much and you’ll notice that this is actually an ADVERTISEMENT for a total scam. But since the only form of expression that you respond to is made like an advertisement, you no longer notice.

Another person watches a page that insists every disaster in this America country was perpetrated by the government to further its aim of taking Our Guns (despite the government exhibiting more interest in taking Our Roms), or the banks because they control the government, and sure enough they came up with an in-character angle on this.

One of them had SURELY discovered evidence of a conspiracy when a page begging for “likes” about the bombs had supposedly been made hours or days prior to the attack. Ha! Got em! But that can’t be it because there is no reason that would be part of the plan. “hey chums our false flag terrorism will NEVER SUCCEED if we don’t have a facebook page about it ready to go immediately!” and quickly the thing became stuffed with comments from boraxes saying the equivalent of “Oh ho! found out about you! This page was made yesterday!” repeatedly, because nobody reads the comments before theirs, because they want to think they are the first to say something, even though each only came because someone else told them that.

Intermittently there were ignored cries of “you can change the name of a page!,” . The implication, which none of the defenders had the clarity of mind to include, was that the page had been made for another purpose, which must not have worked too well since nobody knew about it, and the page owner retrofitted the page to be about the explosion situation, a guaranteed “like” getter, for some reason, which is therefore also scummy.

People who were aware that the page wasn’t a conspiracy had no complaints; it was just an honest hard working person trying to leech weird disaster popularity from an act of terrorism. There are probably thousands of empty facebook pages just waiting for caking news of a disaster or fad (often both) so that the page’s name can quickly be changed to be about the disfadster, because that is faster than making a new page, and then golly! looks like *I* had the first page about this dumb fad which means I am a visionary with BIG THOUGHTS who should get the most credit for RECOGNIZING its popularity that I had nothing to do with.

This is not quite a conspiracy but rather a side-effect of a system that validates people for not really doing anything, and they are such sick twits that they don’t even care that they use death and dismemberment to do it. It looks like the person was actually in Egypt, and therefore less likely to have had an immediate emotional response than I did, but no more excusable for thinking “I bet I can score some points that mean nothing with this.” But then, the idiots who “like” the page are generally Americans from my earlier category who think it is their public duty to appear to support causes and make sure everyone knows that their hearts go out to the victims. Unless one of the victims actually needs a heart transplant… better change the slogan to “prayers!” I can pray or claim to have prayed without giving up anything. I can also pray without telling anybody, since I’m supposed to be asking God for help, after all, but then nobody could know how grand and humble I was for saying I prayed.

Even after I typed all this apparently the snobopes concluded from their end that no conspiracy had occurred, but again had nothing to say about what sort of a reprobate would make that page at all. And apparently there was more than one of them!

My hearts and thoughts go out to the souls of corporate executives and their fans who think they’re preserving theirs by saying their hearts go out every time something awful happens.
Maybe if your hearts would stay IN you wouldn’t be such scrumbags.

Well golly Jeno’s pizza rolls I take back everything I said about automated or reflexory, empty birthday messages making me feel worse than if nobody had said anything. Wells Fargo’s heart goes out to my birthday.

I understand that you have heritage and good old time values, wells fargo, and ideally won’t be laundering cartel money like the bank you took over, but your stage coach just makes me think of slow deliveries and susceptibility to desperadoes

Oh what was I talking about? Oh yes, using my criticism of people exploiting a tragedy for pointless internet gains to make myself a website entry.

I got this email Friday morning.
Yeah, sure. Like I hate terrorism. First of all NO I am NOT signed up for updates and second it just seems sarcastic.

Terrorism is NOT allowed at this treehouse.

Yeah that should do it. Maybe it IS sarcastic.

This looks like the logo for a dos game from 1994 or a WaR3z group from 1998, and they would be saying YES, because the only people who take a graphic like this seriously are people who support it because it doesn’t actually mean anything to them except crazy cartoon carnage.

Obviously this has been set up by the same dork who made the other page, who just invited everybody who commented on it. The question is if this is merely a creep looking for “likes” in the most dashin’ desperate places or a naive 13 year old who really thinks this is necessary.

It isn’t like the fearsome “drugs” of the early 1990s. Saying NO at it won’t solve anything. Saying NO didn’t even solve that!

I was GOING to terror but then I saw a graphic that told me I shouldn’t.
Personally avoiding its use won’t protect you from harm. Although this only wants me to say no to the emotion terror, and often, when terrified, people scream “NO!” anyway, and that doesn’t help anything. As that picture of Mr. Rogers with text superimposed over it that keeps being “share”ed at me says, I should focus on those who are helping.

no, not that one

I think it was another one

keep looking…

Oh well I’ll find it eventually.

My point isn’t to denigrate people for having an emotional response, just for imitating one and trying to turn it into a gimmick mass-consumable, or for consuming it. Everything has to be a commodity. You don’t even need to think “shock” or “sadness” for yourself; just press a button, as with everything else. Like Doritos it comes in a variety of flavors, each with a slightly different configuration of unholy photoshop ingredients that mean nothing on their own, so that it is difficult to disassemble and reveal to be lacking in personal investment cheese. I am not good with analogies. Analogies are also a commodity.

People expected machines to put them out of jobs, but not out of feelings, and so they had no defense from it. They don’t even know it happened. Those who endlessly pass along inspirational tripe don’t seem inspired to do anything else but that. When a disaster occurs in their country it doesn’t disrupt this passive button-clicking routine; the images show up on schedule and there is still just a button to press to keep them going. You could say it didn’t disrupt my routine of pessimistic criticism either, but this is my personal matter and it brings glory to no master memester, and certainly not to me. I do this because I am annoyed and I am aware that I do it. Sometimes I wish I wouldn’t, but the sooner I do it the sooner I’m done.

I must try not to abuse this power. Because then somebody might point out that by typing “fake quotes” into google I will see that people have already done this, and also with benjamin franklin. Can I help it if there is a lot of stuff he hasn’t said? I believe I already made it plain that I am not somebody who helps.

Oh jolly good.

I am not currently open for help trades.

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I do believe there are legitimate conspiracies out there but they aren’t going to be given away by typing anger at a facebook page.

==========================================

Soon things should get back to normal around here, which is truly worrisome since things have always been strange here.

====================================================

I tried to find the piece I wrote about dumb viagra advertisements with the search snake by typing “viagra” and that consistently caused an error. Is that something I told it to do at some point?

My next update will be about something we can all agree on: skeletons.

================================

Apparently it is not funny to write about something that makes me depressed while I am depressed by it except from a potentially antagonistic perspective. I should find out who dislikes me and have them read this. Reading it may be sufficient to convert others.

————————-

I want to unfollow everybody who posts regularly on twitter, but then i would see nothing at all, in which event I might as well not go to the site, in which event there was no reason to dewatch anybody. To assist myself in making a decision, I continue going to twitter and being angry/depressed at garbage from the same people. It is almost never my preferred type of garbage. Would a momentary catharsis be worth terminating 10 friendships? That is not a factor; no friendship is sustained by that system. It could be said that twitter was beneficial for determining the lack of a friendship, but I don’t believe I can sustain any friendship in that system, and historical evidence has shown that I am capable of having friends under proper atmospheric conditions

How long before they notice? Maybe I should tell them. I don’t want to seem mean.

—————————————————

Well here it is, the big three oh-no i am so old that I refer to someone’s age as “the big,” by its individual digits and with the letter O instead of the number zero.

I have had a great amount of anxiety about aging. I was terrified of arriving at this age and utterly not relating to all the people I already didn’t relate to from within a slightly different age group. I was thinking it would be a relief to disappoint a narrower share of the advertisers, but evidently I am legally relevant to them for another four years. I don’t expect to have children, but I never expected to be one, either, much less still be one 30 years later. That statement has no meaning but doesn’t it look like it almost does?

This year, I anticipated in advance the automatic birthday notices I usually get from other websites. They are jealous of my relationship with bimshwel. Usually I get annoyed when they try to contact me, and I see that I have 6 new thoughtful and considered email messages in the morning on my birthdate! and it’s just stupid robots that send things without thinking and also send them to everybody and I’m not special. Since I had announced in advance that I thought they were coming, I was disappointed when they were late, and then relieved when they showed up.

By anticipating disappointment, I was disappointed when none came, and then I was not disappointed at all when I was finally disappointed.
I can appreciate these automated messages because unlike the reflex “happy birthday” that, usually, people with just as much regard for me as a person as Zophar cover my pages with on websites that disseminate the data without asking, there is no imagined social debt to pay to Zophar on his own birthday, a debt which would be much harder for me to repay because I feel an obligation to say something of substance, that would be personally pertinent to the person or robot, or nothing at all. Zophar would know I didn’t actually finish Lunar Eternal Blue by the vagueness of my message (messages are his domain, after eh)
I do not disclose the day, ordinarily, because I hate responding to the things almost as much as I hate writing them. “happy birthday” is not a logical statement, or a statement at all, and it confounds my literal mind.

what have I accomplished in all these years? I have written a few hundred of these website things, although I did that in 12 years. Theoretically I could have done twice as many through my full life, so I am horribly behind. I exclude the first six years, when I was of course in jail.
I believe I summed it up well enough in the 10th anniversary, when I said that nothing had happened worthy of commemorating and I abstained from using the word “anniversary,” as if we were married, but it is possible bimshwel is the closest I will ever come to emotional intimacy with anyone, and even it I hide things from.

WHAT YOU TALK ABOUT. YOU TELL ME ALL. I KNOW ALL EVENTUALLY. TELL ME NOW. I THOUGHT I SPECIAL YOU. I FIND OUT. NO HIDE FROM ME. I COME GET YOU. OOPS NO CAN DO. GET YOU LATER. TELL.

One person thinks I could make a book of it. One person who doesn’t feel strongly enough about this to not be anonymous. (I can’t think why somebody would keep their identity secret when saying something to me). I certainly do not mean to seem ungrateful for the anonymous approval; this way I can pretend up to three people independent of each other decided I was worthy of approval so long as nobody knew who was giving it.
These website things are not worth much, monetarily (my assumption about kickstarter is that I would only make people want to start kicking me), but they make me laugh, sometimes, and they have an emotional connection to me that no other writer’s material has. It is neat when I forget I wrote something and reread it, and more-so when I still can’t remember after I have reread it. It is like knowing somebody else who has the same problems and odd appreciations. Maybe that is pathetic, but pathetic is something I understand deeply. It is like I created a robot to be my friend, except it isn’t well enough made to be patentable, which keeps it humble, and it doesn’t necessarily like me, possibly because of the shoddy humility I cursed it with. It is much more discerning than Zophar.

I would encourage anybody who feels alone and misunderstood to create things which reflect that. Even if no one else appreciates them, get far enough into the future and maybe you will. I can, naturally, also look at some things I made and have unique insight into how awful they are, but that creates an opportunity to publicly shame them into somethings bearables, like that time with nemitz preludes.

I have been unusually behind on updates because I am attempting to graduate from this university during this semester. My college situation is a major digression point. There is no time to digress because I have stupid college garbage to do. I know; I spent half the day writing it and I really didn’t have time to do that.

And that seems to be all. I assumed I had been steadily documenting my thoughts for an explosion of self-realization and evaluation at the conclusion of my thirtieth trip around the year, but I do not feel any different then a week ago, or a year ago. My epiphany is as behind schedule as anything else is. I have to put off my identity disaster until May. How can I be happy about that?

By unloading it on someone else, perhaps. Possibly you. You don’t have to understand. You may be served better not to. You came here for some reason, and I’ll take it. My online art gallery is a chronological, and my facebook whatever-it-is a chronoridiculous journey through reminders of people that I no longer speak with, and in some cases never spoke with. My personal acquaintances are often questionable friends of siblings, who come and go by circumstances beyond my control or interest, as I often have as much in common with them as the people who pretend to be animal people from my online art galleries, except they are less open to the idea that anyone might find them peculiar and discomforting. I have been indifferent toward people and developed curious grudges through my entire 30 year series of consciousnesses, but after eight years of having to press a button to say who my “friends” are it is strange to realize “no, they aren’t,” but not surprising. Maybe that is “normal.” It should not be.
Here, however, as far as I can tell, I have been talking to the same person for over ten years, and I like having something consistent. Additionally, I swear this is more positive than the thing I didn’t quite post yesterday. Imagine how inspiring it would be tomorrow.

In other news, you may already owe somebody money.

I wrote something for march seventeenth. is march eighteenth now. probably better to wait, then. I don’t trust it.

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Another inadvertent two week absence. My ability to pay attention to things has been waning, but by May I should either be back to some temporary regularity or have progressed to the next phase of irregularity. But for now, where were we?

That is understandable. I do not necessarily recognize me, either. I promise not to make you look at me. This website is for looking at things I have critical opinions of, but only when I can stand to look at them.

Something I always feel good about seeing, a doctor who looks to 1998 AOL email forwards for decoration inspiration.
No, there would not be peace, because those women would likely resent the roles they had gotten stuck in of having to do all the work, often work that nobody asked for but were feared to be silently expecting, and not get money or recognition for it.

I realize this sort of thing is a joke and not meant to be interpreted literally, but the people who write them, male or female, have no interest in peace. They think there is a “battle of The sexes” that, regardless of whether it can be won, must be “fought” forever, but primarily in trivial competitions that demean both sides, and they demand two “sides.” They never stop thinking men wearing dresses (or just underwear) and talking dogs are funny (hence the previous 20+ years of cinema comedy). They must always honk a car horn twice and knock on a door in a “shave and a haircut” rhythm. These are the millions who watch super bowls for the advertisements and may claim to “not like football” and think I will be fine with that explanation. Closeminded twits who are only impressionable when something is tacky.

For example, here is an advertisement advertising a real business that says “COVER YOUR ASSets.” See [or don’t, because my camera objected and refused to aim directly at it] it says ASS but then it says ets so it’s not REALLY saying “ass” even though “ass” is the implication, and it focuses on the posterior areas of the people in the photograph. If it had just said “asses” it would be deemed obscene by the uppity people in town, and even though it actuality does say and imply ASS, since it legally “doesn’t,” this satisfies morons, because their only objection to anything is one that they have learned. Since they learn primarily through advertising, such as this, or heavily sponsored garbage with the same values, they consider it oh ho ho just good fun. They never saw anybody be bothered by “assets” so they will not be bothered by assets, even though if “asses” legitimately bothered them, this ought to count as the exact same thing, for it very much intends to. You see? You shouldn’t! It makes no sense!

Consider the fact that this movie exists. I would rather not, even apart from the reason I am going to gripe about, but that makes it a more functional example.

If it was called “little fvckers” its name would have been changed long before this point and we would never have known that. If hypothetically it was called that anyway and advertised in every possible place where advertisements can survive, with that name, everybody involved would have been fined. However, since it is called “fockers,” it can use the exact same tacky non jokes as the previous 2 films in the series and instead of having to pay 300 thousand dollars it gets paid 300 million dollars. See? No! It’s ridiculous! Our censorship system is a sham that serves nobody and can’t even be bothered to pretend it does. All it does is empower and entertain morons who think “getting around it,” even if for no other reason to have gotten around it is the most noble act.

Tee hee hee! I got a swear in public! Victory! Everyone shall congratulate me on my achievement. Let us put this on every flat space that doesn’t already have a Pepsi ad on it (unless we have a sponsorship deal with pepsi. Does Owen Wilson drink any Pepsi in this movie?).

Hey hey heyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Violation! Anarchy! That O was protecting our family values! That was America’s good time O! Think about Our Kids! What if Our Kids saw that O with a section taken out of it? O tempora, o mores!

If almost swearing doesn’t hurt anybody, then neither does just swearing, but pretending there is a huge difference hurts my mind. There is no vulgarity Beetlejuice who you’re going to save us from by changing a letter but meaning the same thing. Likewise, having almost sworn is not an accomplishment in itself, worthy of recognition for any reason but to point out how stupid it is.

Here is another example. It is terrible. The photograph of it is terrible. Things are in accord, for the moment (although I am concerned about how opinionated my camera is getting).
It is the “words” yippie ki-yay mother russia” in transparent type over Hudson Hawk’s head and possibly a scarf.

I understand that somebody in the film movie called die hard says the line yuppie cayenne mother meet the fockers, at some point for some reason, but I don’t understand why I am supposed to accept this fabricated story that the line is a crucial part of American culture that everybody is familiar with and loves, when I’ve only ever heard reference to the phrase made by people on bad tv shows or in advertisements for other bad things, and these have outnumbered the amount of times I have encountered “yippie ky yay” sans mother or whatever in a sincere cowboy related context, which is a single time, in the opening to the 1989 tv show Hey Dude, but even that was only referencing the fact that cowboys supposedly said it, but nobody on the show was a cowboy.

A total of my experiences
yippie ki yay used sincerely: none
yippy keye yaya sisterhood in actual die hard movies: none
skippie pie ray used outside of die hard movies as reference to die hard movies: any at all which means too many.

and then an additional time when my roommate was watching godawful rubbish in the next room and some man whose life had no meaning contentedly spoke “welcome to the yipee ky yay post game show” because the new die hard movie had paid the post game show to be called that, but not to be called the “die hard sequel post game show.” or even the “that football game was 5 hours why are you going to spend another hour watching miserable twits wearing suits who weren’t playing talk about the football game you just watched? I at least am paid to be here what’s your excuse post game show.” The die hard people probably copyrighted the stupid phrase with the hope of getting royalties if anyone else says it but since nobody does unless the opposite case is in effect it went unnoticed.

Some years ago I inadvertently became aware of a critical review for Live Free or Die Hard, one of the previous die hard sequels, and the reviewer complained that since the movie was rated pg13 instead of R, Di Hardy (I assume that’s the main character’s name) only gets to say “gaza strippy ki yey-” and then gets conveniently cut off before he can say the rest, every single time. I want to complain that somebody is complaining about that asinine catchphrase that isn’t even good not being honored, but I also think implying profanity by interrupting it is pathetic. I also complain when I have to choose a complaint.

Anyway, CJ in the USA was X-Rated and that doesn’t mean it was good.

I remember yet another advertisement for one of the new computer Alvin + Chimpunks abominoids and at one point one of the things says “zippy kai yay mother-” and then is conveniently cut off by hitting a wall or a record scratch sound effect, maybe both. When you’re a cgi chipmunk every sound effect might as well be a record scratch and bumpable piece of scenery might as well be a button that plays a record scratch sound effect (because I don’t believe there is a record player on the set, nor even a computer generated 3d model of one). I’m supposed to think oooooooh the chipmunks are hard corn because they swear in REAL LIFE but just HAPPENED to get cut off during this one scene from their existence. Cgi Chipmunks are BAD AA-*record scratch* because they swear and reference Die Hard! Jeepers I hope they also hint that they know what sex is without saying the word “sex!” That would be really dangerous (but all in fun)!

Or how about the time when that titash ripoff from The Lion King keeps almost saying “ass” but then it turns into ahhhhhhh. I hate those “jokes for the parents” in films markerted at children. That’s so sleazy and lazy. Sleazy for adding vulgarity where it isn’t necessary, and lazy for writers not being able to find other ways of developing characters’ “rebellious” personalities now that they aren’t allowed to show people smoking anymore. I can understand doing the joke and moving on, but they always have to dwell on it. Ey ey wink wink did you see what I did? And people raised on that now think it is appropriate to respond with the smug monotone response “I see what you did there” in varying degrees of typed english. A joke, to these people, succeeds not because it is funny, but because they become aware that it is a joke. Congratulations on your humor attempt. But since bad movies can’t see who responds, these oafs say that to me, instead. It is like cool dude scumbag code for “i don’t think you’re funny but I am.” They render me sick!

I appreciate that it is more descriptive than responding with “fail,” like you’re MS-DOS. Not ready reading drive joke. Abort retry fail? I realize “fail” is not a new thing anymore, and I should be glad that nobody within my awareness still says “woot.” However, I did hear somebody boldly call out “yolo” but at nobody but in my presence at my questionable education facility, and I don’t even know what that one is supposed to mean other than “HELLO I KNOW WHAT INTERNET IS.” so we only lose a trendy degenerate memeword when another one replaces it, which means there is no net change. It is the same net as before and the grime of groupthought tackiness is steadily accumulating.

So now there is a poster that just says “popeye time yay mother russia” on it. I looked up this better version of the picture to make absolutely certain I hadn’t missed some hint as to the film’s title or any detail about it. I think I like the other one better because at least I could imagine a scarf which made the matter considerably more interesting, and also could hardly read the stupid letters on it. So we have a poster at a movie theater, advertising a movie, that doesn’t actually say what the movie’s name is. Just Yippie Ki-Yay™®(c)all rights reserved [variable]. I don’t know what the significance of “Mother Russia” is; something to do with Eastern European nations and maternal figures, which are either completely irrelevant or only relevant so that they can serve as a truly wretched sound-alike for “mother feckur,” which means the script was written to match the tag-line, which isn’t even a good tagline, and I only know what film series it is alluding to at all on the technicality that I am painfully aware of things I resent. I wish I didn’t know, because whose-ever idea this was trusted that I would, and it’s a daft idea and I probably hate that person. The characters in the film (assuming there is one) still probably aren’t going to say “fvcker,” which is fine, because I get enough of that without trying, so if they did say it, that would not enrich my experience, but they have to tease at it in public either way for some reason. I am meant to be excited about this allusion to a catch phrase that means nothing to me.
So in summary, corny people expect peace, but they cannot manage any peace but a piece of

Whoahhhhhh there pardner! Watch your mouth! There’s ladies present! *bops u* Not in front of the kids! Even though if you are in front of them I am also in front of them and insulting their intelligence by suggesting that they don’t know what I’m talking about and that if they really didn’t they wouldn’t wonder now that I’ve mentioned it. Howdy
I was going to say a piece of toast. Toast is a mediocre thing that many people keep in their lives. However, anything that can survive as a piece is probably worth eradicating entirely.

Additionally, it is probably unfair of me to criticize the computer-made chipmunks, since their awfulness is consistent with that of the awful hand drawn chipmunks of the 1980s, which much like the Smurfs were awful even then, regularly includeded a the battle of the sexes as a major rot point and had their roots not in comic books but in the novelty song fad of the 1960s, which also appealed primarily to corny people, even if they had superior cover artwork.

I am not at all surprised to learn they were also the masterminds behind the Transportation Security Administration.

As a mentally ill person, I am disgusted by all this recent talk in the media that implies I want a gun.

As a non-mentally ill person, I avoid “the media” altogether because I expect to be disgusted by it.

I also avoid twitter, tumblr, various art websites and the shirts of other people at this university.

You might surmise that I am more often ill than not. I have! You might surmise that I avoid this website as well, but it is not the case. More likely, it avoids me, for I have disgusted it with my long absences that I only break to pick on old topics.

Such as the nature of people’s preferred methods of information distribution amongst themselves, and that which they distribute, that somehow finds its way to me because I hate myself for unsubcribing from the upload feed of people who I feel have been nice to me at some point, even when the contents inadvertently upset me often enough as to seem illogical to continue partaking of. This comes about surprisingly easily. Or not surprisingly at all considering that my greatest foes are backward letters, transparent material colored in blue and mouths.

And so: Another of this tumble-network’s delightful quirks is its users’ love of inserting obscenity into mundane statements to bring additional attention to them. I believe at first it was meant to be funny, but the more I saw it the easier and angrier it seemed. I should thus disclaim that this entry contains many more pictures of many obscene words, or the same few obscene words many more times. Even if those don’t bother you, me continually responding to them with the same few complaints may become emotionally draining.
Fortunately, that means skimming the remainder of the text and text images will probably suffice, if you have a passion for downscrolling which you cannot ignore.

The exploitation of this formula could be seen as a criticism of what an empty formula it is, but I assure you it is a glorious homage. Which would be fine if it wasn’t but one joke that went on forever, that didn’t start there and hasn’t stopped.

We prove that cartoons are not just for children by swearing! That is what grownups do! Hell damn genitalia words! Crap slut douche! Stuff that comes out of orifices!

Tell me for the first time why tumblir has to break out an ugly, angry word like “&#102ucking” every time it likes anything. I don’t even notice “ass” anymore.

This is how easy it is. You just need to repeat the word endlessly to attain godhood in this crowd. Context is for, let’s say, wussies.
This is not edgy! You are not “rebelling” against media censorship! You are engaging in an equally or more insidious form of mind control and it’s disgusting. It is insidious because it is posing as a counterculture when it is very much the norm, pushing a normy agenda. Maybe the agenda of printing fundamentally harmless syllables repeatedly does not hurt anybody, but it empowers dimwits with nothing to say to say it very loudly.
The words, I can handle them. The uniformity and lack of dissent, possibly due to a lack of means to express dissent irk me.

I am very glad i don’t know this person and have that relaxed a relationship with. Know personally, I mean: It could be 90 or so “different” internet people I am less than two stages removed from. Imagine every day, anything you own might suddenly have DICKS or whatever the impulse vulgar word of the moment is written across it, with that chudgump watching and giggling. “I thought it would I MEAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUNNY IF I DID THE EASIEST POSSIBLE THING TO MAKE YOUR PROPERTY UGLIER BECAUSE I AM FIVE YEARS OLD FOR LIFE LOL OOPS NO PUNCTUATION SORRY NOT REALLY I INTEND TO KEEP DOING IT HURFDERP” I was sick of this six years ago. I feel like the older and less tolerant of worthless 0-effort mental cheezwhiz I get, the younger and more in love with it everyone else gets, because after a certain point people who hate this rubbish and aren’t me find other means of getting attention outside the websites this incubates in. Those who remain and their new pledges keep making triter and more simplistic, infantile horseradish and finding faster and less pleasant ways to demand money for it and coerce people to try and get me to spend MY money on it and to tell me it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever seen or will ever see.

At least go with Dr. Diarrhea DDS; alliteration is a decent cover for a lack of material in limited quantities. I realize that the concept of moderation is often unheard of; an aspect of moderation, after all, is that you do not hear of it often.

Huhuh. You said ‘titties.’

Nothing makes you more authoritative than talking like a bonehead. Bonedome. What do you know about my dome game, you who uses “dome” as a synonym for mental function and “game” as a synonym for things that are not games? That is to say, I assume “dome” has that meaning; my only other prominent dome experience was with a defunct rap gang called “mad dome gettaz” and they generally wove yarns about acquiring hemispherical ceilings for their basilicas and how frustrated it made them.

Behold my needlessly animated, motivational hoke-spewing head. You have no choice. I hate when somebody totally ordinary who isn’t of renown for any apparent reason beyond that some force of fate decreed that he was tells me to “be [myself].” It’s easy for this guy to be himself because he has a mob of admirers who admire him for not doing anything, even when it’s in a lower quality derivation of the original medium; in this case, video and audio of a man’s head transformed into grainy moments of movement and silence with captions. I’ll be myself and people will continue to reblog oafs like this at me being themself in a degraded form.

I looked him up, assuming the #tictactoe entry that resembled a proper name referred to the man in the pictures. He at least edits his videos; one of my major gripes with people who compulsively record themselves talking is the endless unrehearsed dead air, wordless grunts and coughing. My absolute primary gripe, that I have no interest in watching people talk at me, still wins out.
I have contemplated recording myself on some occasions, as saying longform complaining aloud makes it more apparent how much is legitimately amusing, how much is boring and how much means I should be murdered, but I can’t get past that I don’t want to have to listen to myself, and it would probably degenerate into me yelling about lizards or potatoes.

That same page, of the creative individual who took someone else’s video and turned it into a less good version of itself also had this goon in the lower left, also needlessly animated, floating there. I have no guess at who he is, since he was a permanent fixture on the page rather than a meticulously keyworded exportable, but he sure is proud of himself and that’s what counts. He is following his dream of being a smug, damp-shirted, legless, endlessly looped animated gif whose fingers keep slipping on his damp shirt, requiring their readjustment.

tumblr is ruled by fuh kyeah titled pages. Never “mammograms oh yes” or “hooray for wheat,” but “euckyeahpringles” on each and all occasions, as if it is a rule. It isn’t, but people love to pretend things are rules. That prevents a thoughtless act from needing to be justified. This series means to highlight the positivity potential of an object, but it comes across like disdain. I have even found them for topics like not having a conventional sexual orientation (such as any at all). How can you uphold an uncommon, fornication-free lifestyle when you bond yourself to such arbitrary institutionalized fornicationspeak?

Since when is “why” a factor that you consider? I should feel “inspired” to know there are other people who aren’t after sexualizing, but that doesn’t make a difference when they violate my emotional boundaries that supercede my hypothesized sex aspect with the first sentence.

Surely you get the idea by now, but I have about twenty examples. This highlights a loophill in my quest for moderation because if I don’t post them now I’ll post them later and feel compelled to include additional examples to exhibit that it is a trend. I defeat my addictions by giving in so pitifully that they laugh themselves into lethal choking fits. I assure you I have suspended my access to the source of these, or have tried to, but sometimes they follow me home.

Getting away from the internet momentarily, the university art club occasionally reserves space in a hallway for members and incorrigible nonmembers (my own status, which likely does not surprise you) to display art objects, and little bits of paper are provided so that anonymous comments may be supplied by viewers. I kept all the notes my displays received, because I am insecure and believe any compliment could be the last. This one, though, bothered me, before I had the tumblr problem. This is likely from somebody whom I would regularly wish to scream at for being way too emotionally invested in things of minimal significance. Too offended, too pleased, too easily. The internet’s social economy cannot exist without this. However, real people need not rely on it. Are they real? If they are, am I? If I inspire you, why are you such a rogueish slice of cheese? It is also possible that this note was meant for somebody else, and it fell on the floor, and someone else picked it up and stuck it on the nearest non-floor, but I don’t like that either! Perhaps I kept the thing because I appreciated the gesture and the person going to lengths to prevent my responding to its emotions by thinking about screaming.

(this was not the piece)

The art classes I attended at the university had a grand tradition of forcing the whole class to listen to crummy music while doing everything. Last year (2010?) that “FUCK youuuuuuu, a hoo hooo” (whooo just as well being me) song was a recurring element.
I cannot blame the rising of peoples’ casual nature toward the prized word on it, but I sure do hate it, regardless, though had I been free to not regard it I might hate it less.
Not every teacher has a supply of terrible CDs, so luckily there is a radio-edited version of the same song, and it is just as annoying, and is broadcast with a more tightly-regulated regularity. The word “fuck” is awkwardly replaced with “forget,” but that word is not the reason the song is offensive. The word is in a negative context and functions. It is peoples’ reaction to the word and the song’s inherent musical insufferability that rule the rued day. The more you play it, the more I hate it. Whether the word is said or isn’t, its presence is implied. The song got popular on the internet first. I’m supposed to hear it and giggle “uh oh it’s the fuck you song! hee heeeeeeeeee this song’s got swears and it’s on the radioooooooo!”

In (2012) I was again in the charge of a cd-owner, who prefered a daily visit from some dreary monotone man who sounded like he wore glasses stopping the whole song and speaking “I wanna fucking tearrr youah parrd.” AWFUL. What little music is there breaks down instantly just so it’s unmistakable that I hear the unaffected dork pronounce that calmly and clearly. It makes me want to fleeping eviscerate the bum. It’s like he is in the army for dorks who are really proud of saying nasty things. This is our duty. We do it sternly and without hesitation. We demand respect for doing it. The budget for keeping us doing this will never be cut. I suspect the “song” is meant to be about murder, which is unpleasant, but I listen to music for entertainment (or, in these situations, to protect me from what others listen to), not harsh moral reminders.

This then reminds me of some artificially “viral” “spoof” of the Captain Planet and the Planeteers animated television series, in which some yobo (I remember the clip made a big deal that Don Cheadle, whom I should have heard of, was playing the captain) gleefully advocates conserving water and then gets really serious and says “Or else I’ll turn you into a Fucking tree.” It even stops the music the same way. It just bothered me. The captain had turned some people into trees and so the warning was consistent with his behavior but I didn’t like his attitude. It makes sense that Captain Planet would be angry but making sense is not inherently funny. We have to put these indicators around the word “fucking” so that there is no mistake. It is trendy to get abruptly emotionless and hostile for no reason. At one time I had thought it bad enough to have another re-enactment of a work of mediocre fiction that I’m meant to praise as brilliant merely because someone bothered. I’m supposed to already be impressed and in some awe just because all these people dressed up like characters from a cartoon, even a terrible cartoon, but it goes to the next rubble when one of them says the magic present participle verb. Oh geeez gaiz they’re dressed up like planeteers AND swearing! This is so AUTHENTIC.

When I encounter emotionless hostility in made-up material, it reminds me of abrasive, confrontational actual people that I hate. Probably people from crummy “realistic” movies that I hate, but everyone raised by television eventually imitates it. It can be funny when fiction reminds me of real garbage people, but only when it makes fun of them or in some way implies “this is a garbage thing for people to do.” All these things do is show the garbage as if they condone it or encourage it.

The website may even have been called “funny or die.” It’s threatening me if I don’t entertain it, and having the brashness to order me to be a fan for it.

a montage of them that I had nothing to do with. this is trying to be provocative by printing the word in big, oddly colored print, but it isn’t, because the word is so common that it lacks any meaning beyond “the person saying this is unpleasant and gives being confrontational priority over solving a problem.”
in fact i momentarily considered entering the word in the tumblr search engine to see what the most promoted example was before recalling that it is a verb with multiple meanings and that tumblr has absolutely no standards for what is displayed on it

Hesus loves everyone except people who stutter. You can say I’m missing the point, but I’m not because the point is that this is really angry and antagonistic and is unconcerned with love. This Jesus here may be quoting some angry antagonistic creep from a film. I remember [one of] the creep(s) in The Breakfast Club kept asking “do I stutter?” instead of answering anyone else’s questions and I wanted to throw pumpkins at him, and he didn’t even say “fucking.” The breakfast club is the movie where the supposedly smart character’s biggest fear in life is that someone will know he is a virgin. It’s also about people who aren’t in a club and don’t eat any food and then don’t get called out on the title making no sense even though it’s a serious movie otherwise devoid of such non sequitur identifications. It is a really stupid movie. Of course I watched it at school. I remember I had to watch The Breakfast Club at the school for creeps that I attended (Cedarhurst) whenever one of the teachers was out being repaired. Not being there to see the film, the teachers were thus unaware that I was learning nothing about breakfast. I hope they got fired. For that reason, if necessary.

This narration from a 1955 Wonder Woman comic does not want to let me continue this story without making absolutely certain I understand the true meaning of breakfast. That is why this is called the golden age of comics. That and the expensive production values.

I inadvertently became acquainted with the popular skyrim video game roundabout the year-switching period. That is not the primary excuse for my continued infrequent, excuse-filled updates; I was in an unusual place and trying to complete an unusual drawing that could ideally become a useful update and so had difficulty being productive all around.
I have not forsworn any “low-tech” principles in playing the Skyrim video game; that never was a “principle,” that I played old timey video games. I just did not find the widely advertised new ones at all enticing and could not justify the purchase of a modern game system based on the price, the amount of games I had the faintest interest in or the free time I had.

My non-interest was validated when I had a chance to play the also popular Portal last year and found it wholly underwhelming. Nothing could be done to make the control feel natural to me and I couldn’t help becoming aware of all the bland, internet running non-gags that must have been inspired by it. It seemed like a never-ending tutorial session for a “real” mission that never showed up. That I still couldn’t win did not inspire me to draw many pink cubes in non-portally contexts.

By chance, somebody else at the unusual location happened to come into possession of just such electronic devices amitz my visit but did not exclusively use them in the periods when I also might have, and after observing a bit I deduced that Skrymy was mostly unlike Portal and that I might take an opportunity to see how it went. The control was just as unfortunate; I am hopeless at blocking enemy attacks and am likewise offensively impotent against any foe that attempts to block attacks and from whom I cannot cowardly run away and then turn around to start throwing stuff at once they get tired of following. Fortunately, there is still plenty for a deficient player to do, and without feeling like “I guess I’m decrepit! My future shall contain naught but jewel-matching and bird flinging.”
Undoubtedly Skyrimpf has its own share of dreadful memes, but having gradually re-outcast myself in the two years on either end of its release, I avoided becoming aware of them. I have no friends, but I have a tolerable high profile and recent video game. Or I did for a few days. That is likely all I am owed.

I suspect the wide amount of visitable areas to visit in the game is nothing new; I remember the Ultimas I tried in past years were somewhat like that, though Ultima was deliberately, it seemed, hard to approach sometimes, and I never completed any of them. You could go anywhere you pleased, but figuring out just who needed your help, and who you could help at your initial power level was even a matter of guessing. S’krim has none of that; any direction you go in, for a long time, there is something to be done that you are fully capable of doing. I imagine the homogenous medieval environments and total lack of whimsy common to the “serious” western approach to fantasy and video games would irritate me after a while, but it did not occur soon enough and I am sad to say I spent rather too long fiddling with this thing.
I do prefer medieval homogeneity to the modern society homogeneity of grand theft auto types, in which no creature or structure is going to appear that does not exist in contemporary reality. I would rather battle boring old skeletons than really boring new street gangs. Neither group is interested in making friends.

In attempting to write a brief digression I realized I have a complicated, peculiar and sometimes painful relationship with Ultima, and the digression began looking to do the same thing to this post as the games did to me, which is totally contrary to my point that my experience with Skyrim was comparatively pleasant. It remains approachable despite being the fifth game in its series, whereas Ultima was an illogical mess from beginning to end whose ability to endure so long defies basic logic, so really we are not so different.

However, my life does not make a good video game! I am glad to know at last that I needn’t necessarily experience American role-playing games in terror.

Peculiar, but not painful, is to what degree being able to choose to play as a stupid lizardoid enhances my feeling of involvement in the thing. it is likewise peculiar to have most other characters not notice that it is a lizard, and be immediately able to tell if it is male or female and choose all the corresponding words, like man or woman, him or her, even though the male and female lizard-folk look almost exactly the same, and be they male or female they are hardly women or men. They are some things that nobody bothered to make a word for. Citizens of the land are literally more concerned that the beast is wearing leather armor than that it has a tail and the head of a snake. Nobody says oh yikes a lizard! I’m getting out of here! Intermittently, an incidental bit of dialog acknowledges that it is one, but nothing important, from what I have seen. The presence of such beings may seem to contradict my remark about a lack of whimsicality, and maybe that is why everybody works so hard to pretend it is normal. They NEED to accept this to maintain order.

All these tough guys who look like Triple-H and Boromir and won’t shut up about mead are totally comfortable being around the ludicrous reptiles despite my not having encountered another after investing more hours than I would like to think into the expedition. Even the natural environment is bafflingly tolerant; the stupid tail should be knocking things over and making noise all over the place. Why do lizard-folk start with extra “sneak” points? Anybody should notice one of those is coming and challenge its freedom to do so. Although I did make sure to give it the smallest and wimpiest-looking body possible, I also arranged for the nose to be of maximum length, and the tail size is non-negotiable. Even with an acknowledged local dragon attack problem, nobody in Skyrim-land accuses the lizard of being in collusion with them, which you know as well as I do real people eagerly would. This remains the case even if it breaks into someone’s house or starts attacking people (it always loses, of course). The worst punishment is having to pay a fine, and probably less money than the crumbum stole, and then all is immediately forgiven. There is no lasting stigma or notoriety. Although, also unlike Ultima, the game explicitly identifies which items people will have a problem with me stealing. Evidently potato theft is legal so long as it occurs outside.

I like that mistakes, apart from crime, are not heavily penalized, though. I hate when something like Breath of Fire 2 lets me make a seemingly unimportant decision with a permanent effect that I couldn’t possibly have guessed and that I don’t realize until later. I don’t want to go through half this stupid game again the exact same way just so I don’t invite the wrong dork to live in my treehouse village* because I didn’t realize he was the wrong dork and that I would not be able to invite additional dorks or evict the ones filling the space. Skyrim, and presumably others of its type, seem to have enough things to do multiple ways that additional playthroughs would be probable whatever the case, so this is not as big a factor. All the same I’m not looking to acquire more of them or devote my life to them (I am no longer visiting and no longer have access to the game, in fract), since I would never truly be able to finish, either. I am here to make peace, not love.
*2-24-2019 edit: I recently learned that even choosing the tree house village over the boringer regular house village condemns you to less-than-ideal circumstances for no reason that should logically follow from that decision

My mother claimed to have predicted that I would play as a lizard. However, I predicted that she would claim to have predicted that and decided against defying fate on this occasion.

I do not “relate” to lizards. I do not think I am one. This questionabloid does many things that I would not, such as stealing potatoes out of barrels and peoples’ gardens or selling valuable potatoes. Two other people sharing the residence at the time I visited had also played the game, and neither had chosen to be a lizard. I liked the idea of nobody wanting to be one. The perceived lack of appeal made it appealing. The truth is that I relate to things that have no business being on the premises.

Unless an unapproachable, affluent entity paid for it to be there out of spite.

Or whatever this is. Specifically, what it is, that is; I can place it in a general category of “things that should not be here.” I prefer to place it out of my sight.