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.

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

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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.

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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.

Ehhhhhhhhhhh better make that friday. Thursday will be big trouble, in addition to my art show. I didn’t have time to make something presentable about it and I assume nobody would see the notice here who could go, anyhow. Really, I “can’t” even go but I have to so that is the way it goes, and how I also go.

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I’ll make a deal with you: I’ll post something new and reminiscent of coherence on Thursday, December 13, and in exchange you can can read it for me afterward.

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It has been strange watching Pokemon go from a laughable fad that anyone could find themselves mysteriously gay for liking to an unreproachable culture source that I’m socially inadequate for not keeping up on the latest full price, buy twice developments of

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I think this is the longest bimshwel has gone without a regular “dated” update since I started giving significance to what level of effort justifies dating one. See, we’re still innovating and cutting edges! Also, “we” is still just me.

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My initial response to lasagna was negative because it did not look like the brown treaded lump in a steel dish from Garfield comics.

why does adding “i’m sorry” to a rejection make it seem like an accusation of insolence more so than a simple no?

Twinkies are like the Peanuts animated specials: nobody who grew up with a choice wants anyhing to do with them.

i get weirder as i get older, but weirdness itself gets normaller

The fraternity you join after getting boiling pasta flung at you: Phi Thetacini

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biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig trouble!

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You know, I knew, I can understand liking the limited assortment of complacent, still rerun ehtoons of the recent past and thinking them the epitome of memorable animation. They were at the right place at a right time, maybe they were clever, given the right array of influences, and not everybody is the frustrated, jealous visual artist that I am. The programs often had a captive audience with no standards who would become endeared to the product simply through familiarity before they developed the ability to be disgusted by something they couldn’t put in their mouths. That’s the same/only possible way The Smurfs cartoon got popular a decade prior, and how Disney can financially justify splitting the talking dog movie market that it’s already cornered.

Also, to guarantee credibility, Knockoff 12 cent cgi movie company competitor has produced a sequel to a creepy fish movie that for all I know never existed.

But that song, from the 1990s, TAhhhhhhaaaam to taaaaake uwollll dereeeeee guro da con ba day da! that was NEVER good. even when Kris Kross and The Offspring and MC Rollodonuts were good that was bad. I don’t have any memory associated with it; I have no idea when it appeared. One day it had suddenly always been there and awful, just like Pari Shilton. I’ve never heard anybody complain about the song, because it’s so pathetic and unremarkable that as soon as you’re done suffering through it you forget you heard it. Is it Hooty and the Bowties? is it Pearl Jim? Is it Creeb? Is it some other band that’s so generic that it’s just “band?” (probably not; I’m pretty sure Band made that “deet deet deet deet Olliday ohh olliday” song that was in every ad a year ago). I’ve complained about verses in american songs not mattering and only existing to fill space, but I can’t even remember this song having any. It has that crummy, moany, waking up at 4am with the radio on chorus and then a total memory void.

I was recently reassaulted with the song because the studio art classes at this university like to have terrible radio stations playing during class hours, to increase the challenge, I suppose, since this is COLLEGE and making art would otherwise be too fun to be called work. While hearing it, I started to type this, and the rest is misery.

I needed to know whose song it was, to have a proper, informed scorn about it, and I decided to start my investigation with the Hooty crewty. “Although Hootie & the Blowfish aren’t innovative, they deliver the goods,” says some quote on the wuhkapedia page by somebody who hopes we imagine he knows what he’s talking about. What is “the goods?”

It’s a box filled with undistinguishable trinkets labelled “goods.” It’s the goods for useless radio stations that aren’t allowed to play songs that anybody in the audience might not have heard 300 times already without electing to. They’re like Bacardi and Cola: They get “the job” done with the minimum amount of exertion or people pleased. A perfect match. Perhaps Too perfect…

No it is highly imperfect and thus I am discontent.

I assure you those numbers are very important to the people who maintain this neutral tone shrine.

I thought the song must be “time,” because that’s the only definite word I can make out in it, off the Hootly album “cracked rear view.” The album title does not include “…mirror.” The hootsters got bored with the name before they finished it.

And so, after the first three singles on the album suddenly that one doesn’t have its own wikipitya write-up, which is consistent with my belief that nobody is truly aware what it is because they lose all motivation to live during the length of it. They’re so concerned with dissuading themselves from suicide afterward that they forget most of what they heard. It’s so bad they couldn’t pay attention to the song after it either. Which is probably for the best since that is about drowning. Even participants who willingly purchased the album and have access to the details printed on its materials and believe it is their calling in life to make encyclopedia entries for all commercial properties (for they are notable through having been sold) won’t bother. At best they could read the title and length off of the packaging. It’s almost 5 minutes long, which is 3 minutes longer than such a pathetic song needs to do everything it is going to, which leaves lots of time for repetition and unremarkable instrument solos, so to better create the impression that Time itself has ceased to function.
Even knowing the danger, I had to be sure. For you, I endangered myself. In fact, “Time” is not the song I thought, but a song I’ve never heard before that’s even more mumbly and depressing. However, as I said I’ve never heard it before, which means nobody has by now made it their agenda to force me to, which means I have less of a quarrel with it. Alas, however, my curiosity renews! It won’t kill the cat but it may cause the cat to kill itself. What a scheme!

Yet more later, I deduced that after the word “time” came “to take,” because, it was, and I encouraged the google autocomplete system to provide “her home” after it. “Time to Take Her Home,” is the line, so stuff her in the trunk and don’t do anything suspicious. It serves as a a misattributed title for a song called Big Empty. And indeed it is! The song was caused by some Stone Temple Pilots. A band so bland I forgot IT existed. I knew they were out there, but I assumed they crashed in the Himalayas at some point and were reduced to cannibalism to prolong futile survival of the dominant members. I also didn’t know any of the songs they did. This is no mere phantom song, it is an entire phantom disco-graphy.

I only know Stone Temple Pilots really happened because my old brother told me when I was of 12ish years that I resembled the lead pilot of Stone Temple Pilots and that always stuck in my mind even though I didn’t know what they did apart from fly around in houses of worship constructed from pre-industrial materials. I still thought I liked songs other people liked so I continued to listen to radio stations and would hear promotions like “featuring GREEN DAY and RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS and PURPLE HORSESHOES and STONE TEMPLE PILOTS” but I lacked the presence of mind to inquire about their contribution, which is probably the way they like things.

Appropriately enough, Big Empty is also just under 5 minutes long. That’s just the rule. Rules are very important to classic rock radio stations.

People who bow before “rock” think they’re rebellious FREE SPIRITS but they are just as set in someone else’s nonsensical ways as whatever they claim to be better than. I heard two songs off the same bon jovi album in an hour on this station. Why is there a human being speaking between songs? An aphid could do this job. It’s not even an album I have more bad associations with than good but they probably play those songs every single day. We don’t need naow, thote controwl. Education is thought control but musical indoctrination is STICKING IT to THE MAN [who provides the indoctrination].ha ha we’ll throw in something brih-ish from the 1970s so we’ll seem deep and worldly! They play that song every day, too! People who listen because they want to probably think that song is called “Pink Floyd.” We just brought you some Bon Jovi, Stone Temple Pilots and Pink Floyd. Coming up in the next half hour is that also. Don’t try and implicate me in this! I refuse to we with you!
That same radio has been on in this same art class for 4 weeks or so and I’ve heard “Under Pressure” at least 3 times. I thought it was just somebody’s crummy mix cd, but it’s a real radio station! It’s a slightly longer crummy mix cd with advertisements in it. If this was a mix cd I probably would have heard that song with the whistling by now or “take only what you neeeeed family of treeeees pathetic 3 second shrill synthesizer loops repeated forever that somehow comes up regardless of music imposition method.” That song’s so bad that it has applause dubbed into it so I’ll think I like it.

And we don’t CARE about the old folks! All we care about is TALKING! and WHISTLING! We like noises from mouths because we’re YOUNG and WITH IT. Yet somehow there’s some 40-ish sounding man going on between the songs, as if anything new might possibly have occurred. Although it is my intent not to listen; he might well be a recording also. The entire broadcast day might be a 24 minute loop, like in those grand heft otto games, except I don’t get to express my frustration on imaginary pedestrians who exist solely for that purpose.

And don’t forget “Fireflies,” the eyerollingest song of 2010. I say that rhetorically; I would forget if I could. I can actually hear the rectangular framed glasses and really tiny above-chin beard that looks more like negligent shaving than a deliberate appearance choice. The songs are all NEW but the BAD is all old. Even when the style is different, the typicality and bland formulas and people who don’t get irritated by daily repetition are the same.

anda feeeeeeeeeel-innnn yabbadobbafibbagobbabreebaawmeeplesworth. I think that’s a different band, only because my old brother used to have the album with that song on it and i never heard the other one. This is the same brother that compared me to a stone temple pilot. I wish I had realized at the time that he was trying to train me for this. Then I might have told him how stupid this is and to cancel the whole thing. I permit that song to exist because it tries something strange, but it can be annoying when every male vocalist thinks he needs to use a strained old man voice to be taken seriously and I can’t tell them apart.

Last year I was in this same room with a different teacher, who put on a slightly different radio station. I will attempt to integrate that complaint into this one, because I believe in civil rights.

There are hundreds of thousands of recording artists now and even more throughout the field’s existence. There is no reason this radio station needs to play two John Mayer songs, much less ones I’ve heard before, but that I can’t tell apart until the chorus part, in less than that many hours.

I’m also pretty sure I heard the “i’ll catch a greNADE forya” guy more than once, “when i see your FACE there’s not a THING that i would change, cuz you’re aMAZEing” people complain about Justin Beeper with this sleazephozo on the loose? Yes I’m aware I said the exact same thing there. However, I actually haven’t written that yet! These songs are so awful they are distorting time!

By the radio station’s bragline of the best mitz of the 80s, 90s, and “today” there are thirty two years of junk to choose from. How does “life is a high weight” come up twice? Oh excuse me the second one is an irritating auto-tune remake that is fundamentally the same apart from the singer sounding like a robot that wears a cowboy hat. Don’t remake a song if it’s going to sound the same. Don’t remake a song if it’s going to sound like a totally different song. Don’t remake songs!
According to my needless research, that edition of the song was included in the “game” Lego Rock Band,

which lost a family award to itself, challenged by yet one other version of itself, plus a different game that appeared twice. I’d say it’s not gay folk and single parents that are devaluing the family experience. Here’s how that must work:
We have developed a new media property!
Is it good?
No.
Does it have any conflict or remotely challenging concepts?
No.
Does it have swear words or sex in it?
Sir I assure you it lacks everything.
Does it emulate stuff people could do without $500 worth of video game junk?
Yes.
Does it have lots and lots of sponsorships and corporate branding?
Yes.
Family!

I don’t think even Tetris would make this list, just because there’s a possibility of someone getting mad if the bricks fell too fast.

And now crummy record stores can claim to carry video game music, even if it’s only from games whose music is exclusively comprised of songs off of radio stations.

Wow i could listen to your ads and random song selection at random parts of the day or just buy a 20 year old bad Green Day seedy. Or continue to listen to whatever song I want without any ads ever, which this society pretty much requires everybody to own the technology to do so with anyhow. The promotion on this sign would have been clever in 1992 and perhaps temporarily bearable. The station is proud that it’s been playing the same songs for 20 years. I am not opposed to old songs. I am opposed to assigned, self-satisfied devotion to old songs.
Unlike the trivial new junk, this will not be tossed out after some predefined period. It will linger miserably forever until some band member is accused of having inappropriate relations with children, at which point it will be suspended until that person dies. I am also opposed to hating something just because it is old. I am opposed to doing something just because of something else, apart from mere enjoyment or kindness. I have difficulty believing anyone really enjoys green day consistently, and green day does not appreciate your friendly gesture.

There is inevitable depressing typicality overwhelming my existence in those rooms. On the rare occasion I haven’t heard a song before, I will keep hearing it so that I can no longer make such a claim.
Moderation and subtlety do not exist. Not surprisingly, this school plops out a heaply helping of bland, indistinguishable painters. Maybe all the schools do. Maybe I have wasted the last [number] of years in my life and should have gotten a job and made art in my spare time and not put so much needless anxiety into receiving certification from people who regularly certify bums with no skill or creative ambition. Maybe I just need to remember to bring in my earphones and some adequately charged counter-noise producing object next time.

You may think I exaggerate the incapacitation inflicted on me by noises of typicality that I cannot control, Though I am not physically I harmed, the primary negative affect it has on me is that I write long, meticulous documentation of my irritation instead of finishing my art projects. Being annoyed shifts my priority to how annoyed I am. And if there’s any traffic freport that’s worth a “follow me on twitter,” it wasn’t the one I heard that in.

Imagine a whole city built around radio. In addition to the harm it does me it horrifies young children with its harsh wintry climate that abruptly shifts to warm and tropical below three feet off the ground leading to incongruous clothing choices among women of eerily uniform heights, a baffling distraction that gives the ghost santas just enough time to carry out their abductions without opposition.

There should be a show called “America’s” in which sixteen blemish-free 14-24 year old humanoids smile as a camera pans past them and then people call or text in to vote based on that. Somehow this will last two hours and have 37 commercial breaks and require celebrities.

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The following is from July, I think. It was meant to follow that, which mentions junkly food, and also Mexico right at the end.

We don’t need [Mexican] junk anyhow. America is the nation’s leader in junk production! We have so much that we can plainly state that hogging edible material to ourselves is an act of benevolence and not be called on it because people have no concept of not having it. The more I eat! Watch me do more than anyone else! I’m doing MY PART by giving a nickel to the Gilligan’s Island opening credits! Sure, Wise brand snacks in the actual snack aisle cost 50 cents less than these so I could theoretically give ten nickles but those aren’t next to a flag! Arrrf Why can’t we deploy THE TROOPS to Mexico and show them who the what’s how ? I remember some years back, between 2000 and 2003, hearing or seeing more than one person whining about YUFE OF TODAY, arriving at the conclusion “they need a war.” People in this country fetishize World War 2. Forget the millions and millions of humans who got killed around the world because of it, AMERICA did the RIGHT THING and WON and got a GOOD ECONOMY for a while afterward. Or at least the white people did. And that was the golden age of everything, when cholesterol didn’t exist and CHRISTMAS wasn’t UNDER ATTACK because the people who don’t celebrate Christmas were as effectively marginalized as the people who lived near landfills. And now we have a whole bunch of wars (disregard the one on Christmas)! We must stay in all wars to get good economies and great generations later. It’s only logical, provided you don’t think about it.

But it’s not enough. Bah humperdink there just aren’t enough volunteers to keep every brown person on the planet under supervision. And imagine how few there’d be if we let the volunteers we have stop doing it from time to time. Gol dang it we need a draft. Why not? Gosh doohickey darn it heck. Oh because we don’t want them to have to fight the drug lords we sell guns to okeydoke. Some good news, though, now that Ron Paul has evidently stopped campaigning to be presidently, my brother Imphid might stop reminding me that the US government sold guns to drug lords when I ask him if he wants to order a pizza (note: that was a timeheap ago and he hasn’t). I have enough problems without being personally responsible for debunking the demolition experts in this video who say the World Trade Center towers couldn’t possibly have been brought down, much less in the particular fashion they were, by airplanes. I’m too open to the idea of sinister collusion. I think tumblr is a conspiracy; I’m too susceptible to contrariness influences. I’m too willing to believe that the people who get laughed at have a point. And considering how much of this website is just me laughing at others, perhaps you can see how my increasing awareness of what does or might go on in the world is troubling.

I’ve observed people on the internet yelling at or about other people on the internet for liking Ron Paul for years for reasons I wasn’t quite clear on because they always assumed I had been following all the angry people they were themselves copying who perhaps may have provided some backstory at some point. Promoting the guy became just as much of a hypey cult as deriding him so it was odd to live with somebody who was good enough at appearing to know stuff that I couldn’t argue with any of it. By the time I had an idea I would be alone and not looking to bring the topic up again on a future occasion. when other people had a problem with him they’d just link to some article or post some lazy meme and I would think “oh ho, you can’t even explain your own viewpoint.” And yet I often need days to do so, and what I need days for other people generally need hours for and even that is too long to have an argument about Ron Paul for.

This guy took the trouble to clean out his art gallery but kept up the promotion job.
Still it is nice to see some legitimate political motivation that isn’t just repetition of century-plus-old immovable party principles (the post-New Deal Republican-Democrat swap being largely ceremonial). Ron Paul and/or his cronies played off the disillusionment among Obama supporters like Mitt Club has no clue how or inclination to bother with, though the brother insists he voted for Ralph Nader in the previous election. The previous two, I believe, in fact, because I remember he had a “Nader/Laduke” campaign sticker attached to his doorway at the house we lived in 11 years ago, which meant he wasn’t even old enough to vote then and is probably guilty of voter fraud, and that’s the only reason I know that Winona Laduke is a real person and not a supporting character from the comic strip Bringing up Father or Ripley’s non-xenomorphic rival in one of the Alien movies.

It would be so easy for Obama’s opposition to call him out on the increased domestic surveilance, corporate interest upholding, robot-perpetrated murder and social program cutting, but they won’t because those are the exact things Romney would have done if in office. Roundabout 2003 maybe I heard some radio program my father was listening to because I come from a family that hates itself, some oaf quote someone else with “if you’re under 40 and a republican you don’t have a heart, and if you’re over that and a democrat you don’t have a brain.” I would say if you go through life endlessly applying old quotes to new situations you have a brain but it’s not a very special brain. I think this was the same radio program where the host shouted down Bush administration opposition with “You like tax cuts don’t you? You like tax cuts?”

Ippi, the brother, ‘s point isn’t that the two major parties are totally identical, but they play up their minor differences for show to conceal their worrisome similarities, one of which being perpetual warfare and the other being the elimination of any third group that tries to legitimately alter the ancient system. Of course he’s not the first to say this, and I would trust it better if I didn’t think he was getting it straight from a political themed radio or television program like everyone else, but of all the political types I talk to he’s the most likely to tell me something I haven’t heard before or that I wrote 6 years ago, nonsense or not. I am drawn to contrariness, even if it’s hopeless contrariness.

And yet as I said some of it worries me. The stuff that is defeatist and makes it seem like he wants somebody employed by the government –at any level– to pick a fight with him so that he can commit murder in self-defense. Thank boofness for Rush Limbaugh a year ago and Joe Wosniac the Plumber last month saying something I heard from Ilpo and had no response at, for subduing my fear that he might be right. Thus I propose that my brother replace Rush Limbaugh. But then these were on clips I saw on the Colbert Report show which has its own biases and convenient ability to look at past American heads of state as people who aren’t necessarily proxy murderers. If it’s part of the job to order or not intervene in the deaths of many thousands or foreign folk, it’s probably difficult, as anyone else, to not revile them endlessly unless you allow/force yourself to disregard that one area of concerns. But in that situation, how can you call out the Bush administration specifically for war crimes? I would have to read a lot more stuff to make sense of this, but I’m awful at that, and what if there is no sense? What if everybody has selective awareness or acknowledgment of facts to keep themselves sane? What if that’s the reason why people who suggest otherwise are so consistently and easily identified as cracked pots? And perhaps they are. Trying to know everything broke them. Maybe I am fortunate to have been broken by really petty things that cause me to angrily type at dumb ads, websites, and websites that serve as ads rather than yell at real people.

Alas, my focus continues to be on the petty things, though, so I don’t meet real people. I try to be compassionate or reasonable, but I don’t know enough history to realize when these are futile endeavours. I get angry, and I have my way with words, but still I have not given up on humanity as a whole. I am one, as it happens, so that would mean giving up on me. Although I also feel very inhuman and distant from all people but generally not on these matters. We can be lost and ambiguously-minded together.

These guys look really bummed out that they lost. It doesn’t have to be that way.

this looks like the Avengers and The Hulk are actually challenging the red baron, and I’m glad they’re doing so (except for Iron Man, who appears to be reaching for mozzarella sticks. The 11-13 count is uncertain because Iron Man may have taken some before they got to the box). I suspect regardless of the outcome the pizza’s quality won’t be noticeably affected for the worse.

I don’t enjoy seeing scores of government and military employees get emotionlessly killed and forgotten in movies and video games. Avengers was a nice contrast to the last Marvel-branded film I saw, X-Men: First Beet, in actually making an effort to appreciate special agents and whatnot, even if they’re mostly probably jerks. In the Xmen movie, some incredibly cheap devil guy teleports around killing, in seconds, multitudes of devoted operatives who likely trained for years to get their positions. He does it by teleporting next to people, grabbing them, teleporting again to some place high up, dropping the person, and then teleporting again before he has time to fall. He does this to about fifty people in a few seconds, with no apparent physical drain from constantly carrying fully grown men through invisible voids nor disorientation from appearing in 30 different places in under a minute. I just know if I got to play as that guy in a video game I’d be allowed to teleport maybe three times before resting or it would cause mortal personal injury for some reason and it would be more of a nuisance than a benefit because the entire planet would be designed by someone fully aware that I have this skill and who resents me for having it because that’s the kind of scumbag you have to be to work at a software company that has enough money to license movie characters. I would still have to kill thousands of citizens but I’d have to do it entirely by punching to not get penalized, apart from the boredom penalty of punching all the time. Gosh now I’m mad and none of that even happened.

But this isn’t an imaginary video game, it’s real movie, and all those people are dead now, and the dumb kids who are supposed to become x-men don’t seem bothered and are minimally sidetracked from their regularly scheduled poor me I’m white, well off, have magic powers and absolutely no social anxiety routine. There is a black guy but he gets killed also, almost immediately after 20 million dollars is spent showing how great his mutation is. Again, the white kids quickly get over it. And there’s a blue person but it’s clearly played by a white woman and in any event nobody bothers trying to kill her because her secret power is that she is naked. I would gladly have offered forth a dope for the role if the alleged writer agreed to change the script so the dope got killed instead but negotiations broke down on the highway and nobody is stopping to help, you creeps.

I mention this movie now because it was watched in my presence two months ago at the place where I spent a week getting sunburnt, on a television machine in the near distance, while I tried to draw pictures with a mouse with a sunburn. In this way I missed the beginning of the film and didn’t give it my full attention until half way through, so I acknowledge that my assessment may be only partially absolutely right.

All these mutant outcasts in this xmen movie -immediately- get along with each other, drinking beer, listening to crummy music, embracing the latest fashion and language trends. THEY complain that society doesn’t accept them. The vampire show that also got watched in my presence is the same. Drink drink sex gender relationships. All these pouty aliens get along better with the “humans” that supposedly oppress them despite not having magic powers than I do, and thus a real person inherits their fictional poutiness. However is that fair? Look I’d go out and prove it if I wasn’t busy putting things on the internet.

Unlike the xmen, the vampires seem to have powers from the start. The one character who was the focus of the episode could read minds, evidently without wishing to. How is she not under attack from stray thoughts at all times? As a child she would have to be making moral decisions constantly. How much knowledge, that she came across inadvertently or unfairly, just from wanting to know it, but not necessarily wanting to steal it, was fair to use to her advantage? Would she have to deliberately handicap herself to offset it? Would she take full advantage of it? Either situation seems absolutely unfeasible to end somebody up at a low status food-service job, yet there she is, miserable at a diner, with coworkers who resent the mind-reading. You would either get yourself a rich and comfortable, thoroughly dishonest life or seek some situation where you could be free of having to make those decisions. And is it really dishonest to use the ability that you were born with? how does this person have remotely normal interests? How does she not feel totally alone and isolated from every person? I understand she is interested in the scummy vampire because his mind cannot be read, but clearly the guy is a creep and not a satisfying end. Does the show explain all these things? (a simple “yes” or silence will suffice if it does; if I had no problem with it I would have forgotten it immediately because all that stuck in my mind was the problem.)

I am absolutely not overthinking it because scrutiny is a consequence of trying to make fantasy gritty and plausible. I am thought grit. I wish people would not watch these things in my presence because I neither have time to watch them nor to ponder them later. I don’t have time because I spend so much of it writing these things. Also, looking for pictures to insert in them and then doing that.

I don’t have any good vampire pictures.

Hey Xmen! OKAY! it’s the last 15 minutes, everybody put on the costumes that the ads imply we’re wearing the whole movie and then have one mission together where we actually do the stuff people paid to see us do. Okay now let’s REBOOT so we don’t risk having to make a sequel where there’s time for stuff to happen. Did nobody learn anything from Star Wars 6: Episode 3? every ad for pepsi, doritos, cheezits and craftmatic adjustable beds had the real Darth Vader in full darth garb whoring it out to sea and then he’s only in the actual movie long enough to inspire a lame meme and then one power-point scene transition later he’s done.
X-Men: First Blood 2: Rambo: The Treasure of Sierra Madrock also seemed to waste a lot of time showing off effects for characters that don’t matter. As I said, the guy who could transform based on his surroundings was killed almost immediately. I suppose I didn’t expect him to get killed but apart from swerving me that was pointless. The Beast is a regular human for most of the movie and gets transformed into a megabeast toward the end, and then pilots an airplane so his beastness is irrelevant. What’s really dumb is that prior to then, when he’s mostly human, he’s trying to scientifically transform himself into a total normal human, which would deprive him of his magical beast powers which are only visually evident from his funny looking feet. What a fickle scumbag. He devotes all this energy to fitting in with other fickle scumbags. I know I wouldn’t drink a potion that made me not have a problem with this. It’s annoying but it’s my only interesting attribute. Maybe that’s the moral of the story and I’m supposed to dislike it, but I more want to dislike the writer for making Beast do something dumb that makes me dislike him. If you want to do that, maybe you can cast Kelsey Grammer in the role next time. What’s that? Oh I didn’t hear anything because I am static words on a computer screen.
Surely, surely, having funny looking feet makes it difficult to be naked in pursuit of life’s sexes, but even that isn’t a factor because Dr. Beast’s mutual affectionery is the Naked blue dope Lady, who also looks weird. And then Dr. Beast tries to get them BOTH to drink the normal potion, and then there’s a really uncomfortable scene about that, which makes ME uncomfortable and additionally wastes time. I hate that guy.

There are too many of these “superhero movies” that are more about the secret identities than the heroes. They’re REGULAR FOLKS JUST LIKE YOU who just HAPPEN to have SUPER POWERS sometimes.
Xmen: Playin’ for Keeps kept the “establish decade by constantly blasting contemporary top 10 hits that none of the characters are allowed to be indifferent toward the first 15 seconds of every scene” to a minimum. Nonetheless the mutants and normal humans are indistinguishable in appearance and behavior. Although apart from the stock President Kennedy footage and James Bond submarine sets there is no distinctive sensory hint that this is the 1950s.

I don’t want to go to the pictures to see a man, I want to see a Spider Man. I do have a special fondness for heroes doing heroic acts out of costume (as opposed to someone like Superman who will let the world go to hell to keep Clark Kent employed even though he doesn’t require money to sustain himself), but these are just heroes being normal boring oafs who have problems so that they seem realistic. No! We spent the whole last decade being plausible, making snarky references to stuff from fake comic books or cartoons that real movie people don’t do, and we haven’t stopped.

The Avengers! I liked their movie despite a solid 20 minute discomfort block in the middle where the main characters stand around in a room and bicker, though they showed little regard for civilians by not bothering to evacuate New York City when they knew alien turtles were coming. Those civilians then showed little self-preservation by continuing to labor in their office buildings and create TWO WAY TRAFFIC on the bridges around Manhattan. What idiots are going INTO the city when they see stuff blowing up? (my brother the Alex Jones fan will insist it’s the crews assigned to remove the evidence of controlled demolition from the rubble of the World Trade Center)

Loki doesn’t cut it as a villain, especially when there are four to six people who can beat him up at any one time. That useless tornado guy from the Xmen movie should have been here. Somebody who watches more movies than I do insists that Loki is deliberately pathetic so that the film’s focus is on the heroes working together. Great, but now the next movie is Iron Man 3, not Avengers 2. I didn’t even get much of an impression that Iron Man needed help here.

What if I don’t get a sequel? I was let down that this movie didn’t take the chance to show off Captain America’s pantomime skills. This is very helpful to people like me, who’ve never read the comic books, as it gives us important background information. We learn not only that Captain America knows where his watch is, but also that the Avengers apparently do not own a clock. Additionally, we learn that this is worthy of devoting precious level transition space to. The movie was too busy showing me what could very well have been the exact same footage of Green Goblin apprentices getting blown up over and over the final twenty minutes.

I was also disappointed that Iron Man never called Hulk a brainless gargoyle.

Oh gasp! I ought to have known! Spiderman, Xmen, Avengers, all united beneath the bow tie banner! I never had a chance!

UNLESS Roseanne has secretly gone undercover as Storm in an effort to sabotage the patriarchal dress scheme from within! But whose side is she really on? Find out if I mention it again!

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I will clarify that I found the X-Man film entertaining on the whole, but the small things that stuck in my mind refused to leave until I deposited them here.

I fixed the thing that I broke! It had disabled a crucial animated gif.

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I hate hearing about when radio was king. Radio was “king” for a pretty short period overall in the history of media. It truly was not so very long before motion pictures usurped the imaginary throne. They had sound before the 1930s, but even prior to that they were big business, comparable to, if not more so, than radio.

I think internet pornography has been king for longer than radio was, if the only way we might communicate the concept of fiscal success is through a monarchial analogy, and if this analogy holds up at all, the king is a reprehensible creep who only retains status by having knights hack up civilians. Your dominance doesn’t mean beets when it is entirely dependent on there not being any competition. Radio was in charge right up until somebody else made an attempt at being in charge.

Radio repologists are the same sorts of people who never forget to mention that Popeye was more popular than Mickey Mouse for about a week at some point in the 1930s. By making a big deal of that point you imply that for every other point in their coexistence Mickey Mouse was the better and Mickey Mouse is about the blandest character on the blanet.

The early history of radio, in general, is depressing. This in part is due to the entire history of radio being depressing. I wouldn’t mind if I didn’t hear about it so much. I hate that stupid music that plays in the background, I hate the nearly indistinguishable announcer voices, I hate every program’s name ending with “show” (how did that start, anyway? No one never saw a thing). I hate the Lone Ranger. Maybe his show was well written (just as likely not), but my only experience with it are despicable characters on television referencing it. A lot of my least favorite fictional people have been huge Lone Ranger fans.

And he wasn’t even alone! I don’t need to have seen/heard his deeds to know that he had Tonto along to not get any credit through not being a white guy. Chipwich, since it’s on the radio Tonto could be a robot or a skeleton or a sentient boot but you made him a human so you may as well acknowledge that he exists.

I hate hearing how CBS had to “raid” Jack Benny, like there were only two people in the whole world capable of being entertaining when heard but not seen. Historians would have me believe the only things important to all 1930s Amelicans were Jack Benny, Seabiscuit and racism. But they failed! It’s more interesting for me to consider that back then people could have two first names, as opposed to now when people have names like Madison Carter and MacKensie Potatobucket and Vanburen McFrankenstein.

It’s very possible, that since I haven’t been able to move on yet, if I’m alive fifty years from now, I’ll still feel attached to the early days of video games, but I can tell you I won’t trust anyone to recap it for me, because I know they’re going to say Pac-Man, they’re going to say Mario and they’re going to say Crash bleeding Bandykook in the intro sentence and the whole operation is going to dance around hardly straying from those three points. No Moraff, no Electro Brain, no Triffix, none of the mistakes that I’m obsessed with. Just the mistakes I hate but that other people don’t regard as mistakes. They might mention Final Fantasy, but only the first one, because they know what little tolerance I have for that.

If I live to be seventy years old and still have people willing to speak to me, I’m not going to be recalling Tetris the way old people now recall Marylin Monrovia or James Bean. It was fun for a few hours and exploited into total reprehensility.

I found that in a file titled “objects.txt” dated 5-27-2008 that I probably meant to be a collection of unfinished website items, but then I continued starting new unfinished things and forgot the old ones. I don’t entirely recall what prompted me to complain about that and then not do anything about it for four or more years, but the thing I typed beneath here reminded me of it so now it is above that and your problem.

This is from somebody’s tumblor web-page. A string of folks I know absolutely nothing about are eagerly anticipating an upcoming film by quoting dialog from an ad for it beneath an endlessly looping captioned clip from the ad which probably links to the full ad.

I guess Zangief is considered “bad” either because he is Russian (Soviet, in fact) or because the people who made this movie just threw some money around at some licenses and aren’t inherently more qualified than anyone else who’s ever put a video game character in a feature film.
Except there was also Kingdom Hearts, another baffling disney/video game cross-over, which was an actual video game, that must have at least been mildly playable, even if I wouldn’t, because one of its primary plot components is fondly reminiscing about when Mickey Mouse was king. I have difficulty reserving more faith than I have in a Disney supervised video game for a Disney developed video game movie. I do know that I’m not looking forward to footage of the Dynamite Dux doing the Charleston in front of a white background under a huge font saying “Wreck it Ralph #1 movie in the country!” when that inevitably occurs.

The page I saw this on also had someone complaining about fedoras for being marketed at the wrong people. Certainly I have stated fedora issues, but Tumblr users are the last people who should be complaining about marketing. They are marketing incarnate. They promote, buy and forget products in time to promote buy and forget the next ones, totally for free, like no one but the most cynical radio-era spokesoafs could ever have expected people to be dumb enough to. Suddenly in less than a day I had seen stuff about this movie from five different people, all making the exact same points (“this movie will be good because it acknowledges that video games exist and I cannot contain my enthusiasm over it”), without my having given any effort to look them up. The catch to this marketing method is that the tumblites have to actually like or expect to like the product, but on an internet that I can win the entirety of by being aware of something that anyone else who grants themselves authority to award the whole internet is nostalgic for, it really isn’t that hard.
ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED? good work, I made “comics” about the NES game Wizards and Warriors before I could read, and I reckon pasting whimsical dialog next to video games sprites has been an internet institution for plenty over a decade. Why is this film special? Because it’s not on the internet. Nobody here is pausing to ponder: “this is significant because it has nothing to do with us.” It may even be tolerable as a result of that, if I succeed in forgetting the hype. I am weary of hype.

Golly I’d pay up to three easy installments of $48.95 for that! Of course I could PINCH even more PENNIES by not buying anything at all. Is this product any good? I don’t know because I don’t trust essentially anonymous mobs of strangers, compensated or otherwise.

And this idiot IS compensated. Ripping off the same tirelessly impact-font-labeled pictures as everyone else but putting ads (that SCROLL WITH THE PAGE) on them
and then its own copyright symbol on the ads and saying “derp” the whole while, thoughtlessly mocking my people. Though I mock dopes, dopes are not derps. Dopes are content and there is no struggle to life as a dope and they don’t have feelings to hurt. That is why I deliberately work to hurt them. This is like comparing apples and pineapples. Pineapples are scum.

Disclaimer: I accept no responsibility for anything but will accept your money
Old pictures, old gimmicks, old buck-passing, old buck-keeping. I have been concerned that I’m so out of touch with society that I can’t tolerate new things, but maybe the problem is that the new stuff is fundamentally the same as before.

I recall all manner of gorbo going gorby over Matrix 2, Snakes on a Plant, New Transfarmers, the 2008 Baracko Bama and/or Pon Raul presydential campaigns, the Smashing Brawl Bros and all these things. They live for hype, promotion, consumption and imitation. They were raised on it and they don’t know how to not do it. I’ve failed to be in their clubs for so long because I must not enjoy being in their clubs. I want to interact with talented people, not mere complacently resigned fans of talented people, and certainly not fans of lazy nonsense. But lazy nonsense is more likely to get reblogged and less likely to get discouraged if it doesn’t get reblogged.

I consider intelligence a talent but that statement seems even more pretentious with that word in it.

Considering that it took me about 40 minutes to find the zangief page again after I made the decision to use the little bit of text I typed about it (which has mutated considerably) I really don’t know what to think about the approaching movie he is sort of in. And that’s fine! I’m allowed to not explode with excitement every time somebody wants to sell me something. I should be glad that video games are getting some legitimacy and that the old ones I actually care about aren’t being totally ignored, despite the efforts of the xbox all-army-guy/zombie coalition. Even if it’s in an ugly, 3d, “fictional characters are REAL, BORING people just like you” overhyped contemporary above-everything “yeah, no” obnoxiocomedy which, much like toy story, will undermine its apparent fondness for “classic” toys by saturating the planet with sweatshop labor merchandise based on the exclusive intellectual property of the filmmakers. I like that Zangief is in it and Crash Bandicorf isn’t, and that Bowser’s eyes weren’t made really small and moved close together (meanwhile keeping the head the same size) so to better resemble the facial features of an immersion-breaking-by-design celebrity voice actor who uses a Scottish accent for some reason. The scene in the preview is probably the extent of their parts, but I didn’t watch the preview anyway. I don’t have time to watch it; I’m too busy complaining about it.

Nobody has tried to sell me on the original characters yet, as it happens. Only the incidental background characters. Can a movie work entirely through interest in the secondary characters? Disney definitely sold Aladdin as if it was a movie about the Genie. And this time there’s no gentleman’s agreement to violate with Dr. Robotnik over his presence in the promotional material that will lead to him being voiced by Helletic Hojo in the sequel. That is the most pointless sentence I’ve ever written. At this point I would like to gripe that it’s the newer Robotnik who wears suits made of rubber and zippers and goggles on his head despite already having dark protective lenses over his eyes at all times, but actually he has never dressed in an especially dignified manner and he’s the only character from his franchise that I can still bear to look at.

Bah I’m too angry. I’m even too angry at how angry I am. I like a lot of things! I like… (don’t say dopes, don’t say dopes, don’t say dopes) yes I sure do.

NO! I’ve been misrepresented! Google isolated a single remark from the page featuring the most conspicuous commercial property on the page whose name I didn’t make the effort to misspell, and declared that the title! It’s almost as if google just saw a picture of a preview of this website and made a judgment based on that, except it didn’t because if I was going to pay to advertise this site I’d look at the money and buy a pizza instead. Giggle changed the title because the actual page says “luckycharms.com” on it which I guess is a problem because apparently real people go to the websites of breakfast cereals, and do it by typing urls into google instead of the place they are actually supposed to type urls, and these people are worth accommodating for some reason. I didn’t even write that sentence anyhow! Kid Rock did! And the next line is “I like Andersen windows!” Why isn’t that the title? Andersen Windows are much better actors. Nobody understands me/us!

I’m going home to people who appreciate me!

*I* don't even want to read all this, dopes, kings, tumblstiltskin | How to lose a guy in (6) days | !

new imps are floating in strange places. they want me to fix it, I suppose!

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

Incididdly, the reason the monopoly piece took so long was because I was preparing this, and then removed it, and then this took longer.
Yes so Computer Banking Monopoly was discovered at toys r us.

No, not THAT place.

This one. The facade is undoubtedly fancy but indistinguishable from every other building in the future abandoned lot. It’s the only place where I’ve ever seen a Friendly’s and a Ruby Tuesday directly adjacent to one another, along with the world’s greatest Wendy’s.

Yes likely you’ve encountered enough lamentations decrying aesthetics from another era being replaced with uninspired modern sterility. However I think it must be said the old one has the look of a toy store with a specific identity all its own, whereas the newer one you might as well just call Chain Licensed Product Store. If you swapped the sign with that of Target or Sports Authority, other stores in the vicinity, it would not be apparent to anyone until they walked inside. And why would they? I can’t even say for certain that such a switch hasn’t been made between when I entered and took the picture because I’m not likely to go in again. The only indication that it is a real toys R us is the creepy void behind it. Even the old Toys R Us that I liked had a sleazy wasteland surrounding it, and according to that website I linked at, mine was the only store in connecticut that closed down before it could be reblanded. The author claims it was because the location was lousy and the building was “sinking” but I like to think it’s because the store had integrity. It was integritty. It would plunge to the depths of hell and have a crummy auto supply joint move in before it would submit to graphic design. I don’t necessarily mean good graphic design, but just any at all. Say what you like about East Haven (or just repeat what I’ve written about it through the years without reminding me that I wrote it), but of the two units in its structure it wasn’t Toys R Us who dared remind me of Battletoads.

I will be the first to say we should toss old, irrelevant characters aside and stop holding up progress by deifying irrelevant fictional commercial personifications, but if we replace them with something worse and call it the same then we’re missing the point. I loved that store, as trashy as it was. Does anybody love this place?

Yet I was glad it wasn’t the Toys R Us in that still at the end of Double Dare where the giraffe head had a huge, towering neck. I’d have never gone near that. It was so bad apparently that I entirely forgot about the frightful gremlins standing in front of it.
Much mystique I suppose lies in the fact that these places are mostly gone. Maybe I wouldn’t think this design so special had it not been nine years since I’d even passed one on a highway. In fact they are kind of tacky. If you pull out you see that no store ever bothered to keep up this facade the full length of the building and it comes across as lazy, too.

Toys R Us was the first store I knew of to issue its own currency. I can only assume employees were paid in this to discourage them from trying to escape the premises. However, with the volatility of the world-wide economiseep, those who have survived to become refugees have discovered a startling fact:

Geoffrey Dollars are now worth more than real dollars. 3.433 times more. Though America may have abandoned the gold standard, the people’s democratic republic of Toys R U.S. never lost faith in the dork standard, even if they tried to disguise it.

With that in mind I now intend to begin distributing to loyal bimshwel customers Mitz Bucks™,

the only true and consistent abstract monetary representation of this domain name. Bimshwel has been privately owned since 2002 and sells no advertising except when robots get in and they keep all their money, which is in useless US units anyhow. Unlike some international currencies, valued by nothing more than their relationships with each other, Mitz Bucks™ are backed by the unprecedented scumbaggitude and scoundrelity of nemitz. The only thing that would bring down their value would be if nemitz started being a decent person unworthy of scorn or contempt. Greater American Dollars rise or fall by how many people want them. Nobody wants nemitz around, so Mitz Bucks’™ value can only increase. We shall have the dollar on the run.

Aw nutf I didn’t plan on this! How can I arrest this fiend?

Great thinking! I will simply buy all the dollars before they escape.

Or send my army of flatulent marionettes in pursuit. I’ve been trying to get them out of the house, quite honestly.

*I* don't even want to read all this, NEMITZ | How to lose a guy in (5) days | !

I keep seeing this and forgetting that I sent it to myself.

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

Charlie should not make pizza. By someone’s definition (Charlie’s) this is considered pizza. Who else has bad definitions of pizza?

I don’t know what one tastes like hot, but a cold domino’s pizza tastes like a bag of pizza combos pre-trans fat makeover. Which explains at last why the combos people think that tastes like pizza. According to legend, this pizza has bacon on it. i think an Egg McMuffin would have more bacon on it. I hesitate to add the clincher “and an egg mcmuffin has SAUSAGE on it” for I suspect even that may be hard to prove.
The process of explaining how I came into possession of this object incriminates some individuals who probably deserve better than to be incriminated over pizza.
Sometimes when you end up a with watery base, Eggo wafflish crust, almost pink tomato sauce, and a cheese layer that seems to be a single unit, you can make the excuse no this isn’t misguided chefmanship, it’s Greek style pizza. It’s no wonder why they’re always smashing plates. It would be fine if they used good ingredients, but they never will. I formed that hypothesis a few years before the Greek economy became an international liability and I won’t go so far as to blame a complex issue far older than our limited American awareness of it that is bringing suffering to millions of people whose governments increasingly punish their own citizens to maintain their own pointless wealth on bad pizza. Rather, it’s probably a combination of that and all the broken plates. But Domino’s doesn’t even have cultural differences to blame its inadequacy on; rather, it is perfectly matched with the culture that it offers service to, which is why it stays in business.

The only remotely ethnic restaurant I ever saw dominoes in was a pan-Asian establishment and it knew better than to serve pizza. The chefs there stick to what they know and preserve their dignity.

Yerp, pizza combos, pizza rolls, pizza pockets, pizza goldfish, pizza PRINGLES. None of these taste at all like pizza, but I bought them all, many times, even once I knew it. The goldfish just tasted like regular goldfish with random flavored salt on them, but the pringles were notably bad and chemical aftertaste-y. Yet I bought them again.
We just like things to have “pizza” in their names and we don’t hold them to any standard unless they ARE pizzas, and sometimes not even then. Even after swearing off Red Baron, Totino and Elio pizzas* I continued eating the lousy pringles. Pizza flavored non-pizzas seem to get a free pass. (*I never ate a Tony’s

To your amazement, no doubt. If I wasn’t enticed by smooth plastic fisher price playhouse pizza surely the creepy Drew Friedman airbrush kid would seal the meal)
It’s become a routine. We think we like pizza because we remember liking pizza, but clearly we’re bored with it. What if we could have pizza as potato chips?

Or what if we could eat it out of a starchy carbohydrate sock instead of slices? Slices are so HARD.

Shooting the ad with a green screen box to accommodate different regional sub brands without refilming the same great great scenes with the same great, great song where there’s no conspicuous lyrical void allowing for the insertion of “Ellio’s” as the situation demands has the additional benefit of making the product seem real and valid compared to the very fake looking packaging.


This at least solves my problem of not being able to take a bath because it interfered with my ability to eat pizza-derived products at all times.

More recently, I attempted a semi-local non-chain that was pledged to be “cheaper” than what I prefer. I had to conclude that it tasted like that kind of pizza I get when somebody who doesn’t really know me says “hey come over we’re getting pizza.” I’d wonder where the hamburglar did you FIND this? I’ve lived here for ten years and never had a pizza this bad. Why do you think this is GOOD? Pizza parties are the worst. I get two slices at most and then have to wait around not eating pizza or talking to people because I resent them for not buying enough bad pizza. How’s that fun? I can’t stand it. The pizza here was actually tolerable but it reminded me of that.

This does remind me, or it did before so many digressions and inserts that I no longer recall what actually reminded me: did you hear that the mcribs are “back?” I did, despite neither caring nor being aware that it had gone anywhere except directly into a toilet. Mcrib is the dumbest scam. “It” never goes away, but it’s always coming back, and then I’m always hearing that it’s coming back. It’s never national news that Chicken McNuggets are still here, even if we as living beings really ought to be outraged every day that they are. The official story is that mcribs were devised during a mcnugget shortage, in fat, but considering how simple a matter it is to fake a shortage of natural earth resources to push up their prices, imagine how much more easy it must be to fake a scarcity of something that’s not supposed to exist at all and very easily might not.

Also it’s the McRib, rather than the McRibs, or some McRib sandwiches. There’s just one riboid that returns year after year, because like other menu items it never decomposes and nobody wants to eat it. There’s nothing special in McRibs that should cause them to be scarce. We already went over this. Pay attention. It’s the same stuff that’s in the hamburgers pressed in a different mold and painted a different color and sprayed with a different flavor. They could make it out of broccoli and have it taste exactly the same and be eep times healthier but they don’t because people have some kind of weird pride about eating meat, even when it’s several stages removed and reformulated several times. One of the claims made to discredit Mr. Obama when he sought presidential space was that he ate arugula. Hey, he eats VEGETABLES. He CAN’T be American. Do you remember the big “story” that taco bell’s meat didn’t meat ah the legal meat requirement? Nobody cared to observe that the substitution was actually vegetable matter which we’d be better off replacing the entire contents with. They only wanted to say “ha ha, unnatural! Oh ho ho, fast food! Tee hee, verbs! OMG coffee”

Yet Kentucky Why Chicken famously mistreats and misprepares real animals and the end product is not any more holy. The only identifiable difference is that a piece of chicken costs twice as much as a taco, and they don’t even take the bones out for you.
I saw that written bit partway through my own writing. Although it does suggest the McRibs only exist at all because at one point in time McNuggets indeed were not present, which made me alter my own base remark, the coward, that has never been the case since. The article also does not suggest that the sole reason for the product’s absences is McDonalds’ self-assurance that it can get massive free publicity merely making the slightest deviation from routine, and that “McRib” is perfect for that by having a stupidly memorable name, so it can become something like a running gag. ANY product could be randomly removed, or not removed at all but suddenly said to have been unremoved, but it’s funnier and more consistent/efficient if the same one gets the moot every time. So the breach of routine itself has become routine!
Ha ha! I’ve figured it out! But what will happen to me now?

Ah, truly? I must say I hadn’t expected this!

Oh fah uhl I figured you wouldn’t tell me!

Rod Blagojevich knows where’s the party at. No doubt he will be funding it with his Jeopardy winnings. I expect only highest quality and plentiful part-like fare.


Awwwwwwwwwwwnawwwwwwwwwwwwww… I don’t even remember why he’s going to jail next month so it’s probably this.

I wrote this in 2010. I never posted it. Or so I say. Look, see, at the url. “http://bimshwel.com/?p=341.” Last week’s was 439. That PROVES that my website entries have numbers assigned to them. I reckon I could repost three solid years of old bimshwellians that I never found occasion to link back to at any point and say I hadn’t already posted them, when I had, but nobody would notice. Likewise if you were to hack into this (I doubt it’s hard) and repost them yourself I wouldn’t notice either.

What does RED mean to ME? I don’t know what it means. I don’t think about stuff that way. I can’t get punched in the nose at Shop Rite and then come home and fling paint angrily at a canvas for three hours and have something I think is great. Red, to me, is just a color which some things are. So I thought of some red things and made a picture with those in it. And then I added other irrelevant, distracting stuff that would confuse people. The person who sent the email said I didn’t have to deal with the THEME if I didn’t want to. Which meant I really had to, now, just to prove that I could. And like usual I figured it would take a lot less time than it did.

Not bad, but not great. I wished I had started sooner, but really the sooner I start working the sooner I start procrastinating. I thought I could pull off something this complicated because before this I made a pixelly version that I thought looked pretty nice.

Well I thought it did. Making computer stuff is considerably easier for me than real stuff. Hence why I did it there, first, but I figured I could copy it well enough. I also probably grossly overestimated how much time New Haven art enthusiasts spend watching the intro sequences to old Sega Genesis games.

Hmmmyes… fascinating.

Well maybe the picture isn’t ideal but it’s good enough. Anyway, this isn’t at the small space gallery like last time.
You remember the small space gallery, don’t you? Well I do. It’s a place that is not really an art gallery at all, it’s somebody’s office with a few pictures stuck to the [evidently incomplete] walls. THIS time, though, my object was going up in the Sumner McKnight Crosby Jr. Gallery. Things are getting a might bit fancy now.

Yaztaplazca! It’s the old switcheroo! I ought to have been fooled by nothing less than the new switcheroo!

Darth Snack Mix returns again. This may even be the same bowlful from last time and nobody dared to move it.

This is actually my third run-in with the snack mix. I didn’t tell you about the second because it must not have struck me as interesting at the time. It seems really exciting now, though.

I think I was the youngest person in there and the only one whose goals were in any way absurd or narrative-y. While it’s nice to not feel old, for once, if the only fellow ar teests who “get” what I do are kids I’d rather be around them than pretentious snobs who honestly think smearing red paint on a rectangle and taping newspaper headlines to it is worth charging $500 for.

I did like this red clock, even if there’s no apparent reason why it should be red as opposed to purple, periwinkle or a normal clock color. I think the label says Michael Johnson. I suppose I ought to have read it at some point. The title of the piece appears to be “Mullet Trap.” Alright so the guy’s name might not be Michael Johnson.

I thought since I had actually painted something and was offering the actual thing I’d made rather than a copy, I should have a proper frame for it, rather than look for a cheap one at walmart that the thing would fit within. The fancy frame would have cost $112 somehow. So I decided not to have a frame. This is but a matte and only cost $24. Much like with my digital prints the bottom edge was cut off, but unlike my prints that is because this is actually for a reason and the person who did it was conscious of where my signature was. I wouldn’t want to bring shame upon the famous E. Cunni by associating it with this anyhow.

That fool has some talent!

Beans that settles it. I’m going somehwere else to get my prints made.

And then I’m coming back again.

I saw this reflected on the inside doors of the elevation chamber when I went to drop this off (the elevator was shiny) and observed that the large figure’s head is incredibly lopsided. Not that it’s turned to one side; it actually appears to be melting. the ears and the eyes are both at different heights. The pine cone is tilted, to the left, the opposite direction that the other stuff seems to be going in. I was trying to compensate for the right shift without realizing it. I don’t have an easel, nor space for one. All “real” things that I do are seen almost exclusively flat on my desk. Distorted. Always. And this thing is going to hanging up until september. Urgik.

I called it “vegnarok” because the only other thing I could think of at the time was “vegarmageddon.” I didn’t realize that invoking ragnarok implied one side was evil. The point here is that both sides are victims. I later decided “Saladnarok” was a much better title and requested that the name be changed, but I apparently only succeeded in altering one letter.

september 2024 edit: it is past about time that I purged my old name from these web pages. that is fine if you already know it, I just personally do not want to see it.

None of these names, in fact, are accurate, because the stuff shown is actually produce; much of what is involved is fruit, but I was not thinking with efficiency, and in any event I couldn’t find some way to work in any part of the word in which it was evident that was the word I had used. “Warduce?” “Broduce vs broduce?” (this was the year before I declared war on “bro”) Nothing good. “Folic Heroics?” “The seeds of war?” Oh that one’s almost clever. “Salad Oppressing?” “You war what you eat” alright that one’s just stupid. I eventually thought of “Ragnarcrop,” but I didn’t like the way it sounded. Which doesn’t make any sense because “saladnarok” puts emphasis on the “lad” which one doesn’t do when pronouncing “salad” unless reciting a poem about fads and doodads (putting emphasis on the lad sounds illegaler than it is).

I also thought of “farmageddon” but a quick google search revealed two different things calling themselves that, one of them a non-existent yet perfectly hypey computer cartoon series based on a comic strip that ran somewhere, allegedly, for two years in the early 90s with a wikipedia page written by the authors four years ago, and I suddenly thought of myself as considerably less clever. The animals talk, though.

I was required to prepare a typed “artist’s statement” in order for the thing to be displayed. I didn’t know how to do that so I supplied this instead.

Hello! I am called B—— Cunningham. I make pictures sometimes. Many of them can be found on bimshwel.com, which is a website.

I am fond of stupid things happening to stupid looking creatures. I don’t, in general, “understand” art beyond what I immediately see in it, so I avoid attempts at symbolism and “meaning” in my own output as best I know how. You are welcome to your own interpretation, naturally! My primary goal is the amusement of myself and potentially others.

I primarily deal with pixels and other digital nonsense, but I envy those who use paint and ink. I’m only allowed to display one piece here so I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to misrepresent myself with a work in a medium I have no experience or comfort with.

In this scene the adherents of beets and the partisans of tomatoes have reached a moment of great potential conflict due to the vile trickery and sculduggery of Pinot Conio, the fiend whose upper portions float menacingly above, violating the laws of physics and perspective, as often occurs in uninspired film posters. My hope is that taking inspiration from the uninspired will overload the uninspiration meter and cause it to register a more favorable reading.

I think you’ll agree that this is incredibly stupid. However, despite it being the first serious thing I’ve ever attempted with this mysterious gouache substance, I am fond of the painting and have thus given it a ridiculous price to discourage any sensible person from purchasing it (I’m kidding, of course; no sensible person would take this for free!).

That’s done! My artist statement! It wasn’t so bad. I was worried I’d get myself in trouble. People are so easily offended in a dumpstervania like New Haven.

I didn’t include the last line.

I was trying to be as sincere as possible without seeming boring. The problem there is that in actuality I am both boring and insincere.
I discovered later that the artist’s statements were not displayed anywhere near the art or indeed anywhere near anything so it would not necessarily be clear what I was talking about when the time came for somebody to see this. So I was boring, insincere and irrelevant. I astound myself.

This is the best painting I have ever done, which would be a significant statement if I had ever made a good painting.

I should stick with acrylic paint, though, I think; that is the paint for indecisive mistake-makers who draw in pencil first. This is gouache. And after four days of looking at it I have a gou-ache.

^{And I know it’s not pronounced like that but it is spelled like that.}

I can’t believe I didn’t put a pumpkin in here. It would have been much more clear than the coconut-with-orange-slices-attached-to-it mace in the upper right quadrant.

Here’s another idea I almost had. I say almost because I never figured out what it potentially might mean. Unless… gah what a fool I’ve been! It all makes sense: the store deliberately priced the frames out of my range to cover-up that nemitz stole them all. Ironic, since it’s impossible to frame nemitz for a crime because anything bad you accuse it of it probably did. The fiend’s already started a war, for beet’s sakes. Alas beet didn’t realize that the war in fact did nothing to improve its own sake. For no obvious reason we have chosen to imprison nemitz inside both the windows 95 pipes and 3d maze screensavers at the same time. It’s good that nemitz is in jail but it never lasts and in any event the crime was still done.

on the positive side I now have one more thing I can do badly.

I have a tumbler.eh page. I wish I didn’t. Not because of this, just because of it. In fact that’s irrelevant beyond explaining where I had taken this picture from. A person asked me this question. I do not dislike this person for this question. However, my dislike of the topic and of some others I associate it with throbs like a toothache to the extent that it is not clear what bridge I am burning today. Know that I burn no bridges, and if I break one it’s only by myself driving a truck over it in disregard of the posted weight limit, and it is reasonable to guess that sooner or later I am going to learn to drive.

But a question, of a television program based on a commercial franchise I don’t care about, from a decade I’ve been sick of for a decade, that airs on a tv channel I’ve never heard of and has repulsive character designs. So the only way I’d become aware of it is if it is it if of it is it being the focus of an obnoxious meme torrent that I would ignore out of spite absolutely whatever it was. Oh and did I! (yes)

Friendship is Magic, they call it. They call it a lot. Too much for me. I resisted making a complaint about this because I felt like I shouldn’t even know about it and half the people that will talk to me on the internet are fond of it. However, by now half of them don’t talk to me either (not after this, certainly), so I like to hope the remaining quarter only choose to remain because they must have accepted me and must have expected me to do this.

One who did not was a very good friend in fact, but who had happened to be developing a curious hobby of marginalizing my personal value a few months before the thing premiered. By the time it had, friendship was not so much magical as an occasional convenience easily explainable through basic logic and social science. Fox news enthusiasts would not even doubt that sort. So having accumulated increasing numbers of such enchanted friend types by blatanter and blatanter professions of admiration for stuff that it was fashionable to like, he no longer needed the ones that were harder to please than that. Also apparently I’m not over it yet. I’ll probably mention it again. I’ve probably already done it. I’ve probably already written the next one 79 times since January.

But the cartoon! It really needed to get made, since there weren’t enough hilarious pictures on the internet like this already.

I can’t vouch for the writing on the cartoon itself, but the people who produce tribute material are about on-level with every other popular rubbishoid which is to say they veer toward the stupid. I remember feeling left out during my family’s Soporanofest a few years back, myself somehow being the only person who’d not watched nearly enough of the program to be obsessed with it, and I got along with the perpetrators afterward. But for this there is no afterward, because people on the internet are not the same as regular human beings who can get over things, or have other layers to their lives apart from these things. I did not get endless waves of daft gangster-sonas in my art queue for nine solid months.

The worst of it is over it by now, so it’s receded to the level of a mere annoying fad, but I scrawled all these complaints about it and don’t know what else to do about them. Forget them and move on? Do something productive? Me? Never!

Tumblir is very good for not allowing me to get over things. Do you have nothing to say? Good news, you can just copy what somebody else says, and sooner or later somebody I know will also have nothing to say and I’ll see something like this (you’ll have to click on it to see it, as I’ll not display it; otherwise I welcome you to assume that what I am saying may be construed as valid under proper circumstances). Even if you disagree with a tumble you need to copy it onto your page to say something to it, and the original copier in the chain still gets points for it, and if nobody bothers to read your print they’ll assume you do agree. Tumblr? More like Stupidlr ha ha.

See see look, this character is WEIRD and THIS character is a NERD and THIS character is DUMB! This should be titled “if you put a stock character in a stock situation.”

I didn’t even GIVE the thing a cube. Somebody who wasn’t necessarily me left it in a place where the beast would find it. I think I have some impractically designed characters, but these are quadrupeds with fine motor skills. They can manipulate objects with their “hands” but are cursed to not ever be able to do so while in motion or stably balanced. Ha ha get it stablAAAAAARGH I’VE BEEN STAPLED
Using a mundane setup to exhibit personality variations, certainly I do it; most aspiring creative people have and do, but I do this with my own characters and I wouldn’t go out of my way to make it look like I used a template when in fact I implemented my own layout.

This artist actually directly sources facial expressions and poses from stills of the cartoon. I know this, because most of these artists do and I’ve seen these ones before. And not in a funny way, either, like in those Tintin pastiches, where the characters are ludicrously out of character, throwing bricks through windows during labor riots or having debaucherous holidays at the same location as everyone else they know also is, all while cursing indiscriminately in near-english. They’re just playing with a dumb old rainbow cube.

And then he used the exact same gag twice (while making sure another character[‘s head fragment] appeared to explain the gag). Frippits, twelve ding dang years ago I drew an equally dopey looking “tribal” character (an elpsoid) painting a rubik cube, and nobody cared, because I never showed anybody because I realized it was a really bland idea. And I still can’t show anybody because that page seems to have mercifully escaped its holding place,

but here’s a subsequent page with a frogfrimmed can of spam on it. That’s the kind of cleverness it takes for this.

They’re rewarding and praising this guy for matching old jokes with old artwork. Even the Pokemon fan-drawingers relegate the frame copiers to middle-tier, but since most of these people are frame-copiers there’s nowhere else for them to go. They literally have no talent. I don’t have to watch the program to know this derivation is garbage. However, I suspect watching the program has an impeding effect on people’s ability to determine that this is garbage.

This is intellectually worse, though; at least a rubik cube has a classical charm to it that this association cannot harm and that likewise does not make the pony-fans who like the combination any dumber for its part. When you are paying lazy homage to lazy bands and lazy cartoons at the same time then you’ve squared the twit appeal and fractioned the creative effort involved. I initially linked to a different band homage by a different person whom I ultimately decided wasn’t fair to single out… the original drawing was of REM as the ponies, which was, at least, the only drawing of REM ponies. I shouldn’t have to settle for least (and I must confess I have slightly more scorn for REM than the Beatles). However, I found countless Beatles-as-ponies examples, in under three minutes, often with the exact same color scheme, as if there are canonical Beatles ponies whose composition cannot be challenged. There isn’t; these people just aren’t even so clever that they can pull off a palette swap without being ordered to. I have no idea who those culprits were so I’ll feel no guilt for scorning them in a place they’ll never find out about.

The absolute worst thing I remember seeing, somebody had drawn the let’s say main character’s heads floating around the logo for the tv show Friends, against a white background, and called it a day. I was so ashamed for both of us that I won’t direct anyone to it unless I am challenged to.

I remember for a while years ago everybody who was cool had to draw their already mundane character as an utterly unremarkable sillouhette dancing against a solid colored background to pay homage and worship before a bloody COMMERCIAL ADVERTISEMENT for eyepods, but most of them didn’t do it more than once. I guess they must have, but I successfully avoided knowing it.

It’s always lucky for people when something that’s really easy to copy gets popular. Pog forbid we have a well-drawn animated series on television.

Hacks love their little ponoids. They memorize the shape of this one little horse and can draw different hats on it and bazoinga! ORIGINAL CHARACTER! It’s like Bob and George fan-authors, except Dr. Light and Rush ALSO look like Megaman.

BUT WHAT ABOUT THE GAY SEAMONSTER???
Nobody draws the seamonster so it doesn’t enter into my reckoning. It may even be from a different show that I failed to elude awareness of.

It has JOKES that KIDS DON’T GET!!!
That’s the same lure you put out to get me to watch Shreck/every remotely animated thing that got made since Shrek made money, and that didn’t work, and it’s a secondary characteristic at best! When I was twelve I used to listen to a late night radio program where people called in to ask for advice about sexual relations and I only did so because of the funny sound effects, and I was an idiot.

It has REFERENCES and MUSICAL NUMBERS!
Congratulations, you invented The Drew Carey show? I’m not swayed by this sort of spiel and I never will be! If the best you can muster is that it’s a less vulgar South Park that’s easier for you to wank out to you won’t succeed and I shouldn’t feel bad about complaining at it!

BUT didn’t YOU make THIS?
Yes! I wish I hadn’t! I felt dirty when I did and the person I made it for just assumed I made it because I wanted to because he couldn’t grasp the idea of anybody else not being as into the show as he was. In fact I only made it so he would talk to me, and he did, that time! And realizing that I did indeed have to do that to get him to talk to me made me mad. And then I didn’t do it again and he never flippin’ talked to me again. I suspected I might have transferred my annoyance at him to annoyance at the cartoon, but half a year later I want to punch them both in the nose so they may well both deserve it. Similarly I theorize that neither cares.

Why don’t you just WATCH IT?
Because I don’t have to! Unless this is a condition to get my financial aid or my passport renewed then I don’t have time to do stuff I don’t want to do that I don’t need to do. Yet I tried! I got through one and realized I would never want to like it, given everything about it and the way in which it had been brought to my attention, and its refusal to leave. This is like reading one of those “remember when?” pages out of somebody else’s high school year book. It’s like that picture of the corny floating head with a pipe in his mouth or referencing a “flying spaghetti monster.” It’s never going to be funny to me because I’m not in your club and it isn’t.

I know one person who insists the program is bringing femininist ideas to people who would otherwise not be concerned with them. And maybe this message is more important than how badly drawn or annoying it is, or whom I resent and why. I hope that is the case. My problem might that I know very few people and I have trouble letting go of the ones that really aren’t going to get any better. Lazy fan immersion is itself the total absense of ideas, and something these people have been doing their whole lives. I give the management credit for devising a template that is even easier for the least creative to insert their egos into than anything we’ve had previously.

For all their blank slate adaptibility, Sega style hedgehogs are kind of hard to draw, what with their messed up proportion and conjoined twin cell eyeballs, as this box art specialist proves.

Hi I have a psychological disorder in which I think I’m persecuted despite being in an insufferable majority that gets whole websites devoted to it and takes over others. See also: war on christmas. or “if we allow gay people to have rights then everyone will be gay and humanity will stop reproducing.” In fact it’s such a powerful majority that I was afraid to complain about it. That really isn’t fair at all, considering the lack of kindness I’ve displayed toward the favorite television programs, musical acts and films of people I’m far closer to than anybody who has a web page with red text on it.

Consider even just the website name “ponychan.” That means this one topic was so overwhelmingly popular on the oldest and most notoriously hornetly imageboard that it attained sentience and split off into a new entity. Saw never did that. There is no “saw chan.” At least it’s not a chan that I saw. When you get really popular and obvious, people are more inclined to look for and point out your faults. That’s just what happens. Our most profitable news media is kept in business by this alone. And for the record I don’t see much about friendship in those which are the subjects of my gripes. It’s simply “this character exists. Look at it a lot.” I don’t have a problem with people watching a cartoon. Not this one more than any other I’ve whined about, certainly. If it came down to little ponies, the shirt tales, the snorks and muppet babies, I would recuse myself from picking the winner. I have a problem with people never shutting up about it under any circumstances, unwilling to accept that some others just don’t want any part of it, and cannot be made to, and further that the harder you push them the harder they’ll resist. I don’t fleeplezeep how “well written” and referency a program is if its fundamental sensory components are idiotic and embarrassing, and those get the most mileage.

Eh but if I liked something a lot, and knew there were forces massing to decry that I did, certainly I would defend my position. Wouldn’t I? I have no idea. I’ve never liked anything that was so beloved that I could say so and have there be 309 people standing by to statistically agree with me.
I prefer melodic music without vocals. I avoid referring to myself with pronouns. I walk in the rain and look drunk. I know what it’s like to be chronically not-gotten on a daily basis. The pony craze is very much gotten, and I wish I might be so into something that was, someday. That would be so great, to have massive corporations just pumping out trash I liked by the week, for free, and be friend-branded-acquaintances with ten thousand other idiots who liked it, who also drew the same stuff that due to my willing suspension of disbelief I could pretend wasn’t totally inane degenerate drivel, and is worthy of the source product I liked to begin with, in the event that was good.

Me mad? Yes! I’m furious! The absolute worst people on the whole internet love the dumb rainbow horses more than anything. It would be unfair inductive reasoning to claim that makes it inherently bad; that only keeps it inherently impossible for me to want to like at this point.
My mother watched American Idol but she didn’t draw, quote or otherwise invoke Brian Dunkleman every day for a year. And if she had and I’d told her to stop she wouldn’t have accused me of being some kind of pop culture gestapo trying to censor her rights and freedom. And if she had she’d be a krippendorfing maniac.

So that was that. But eventually…

AND What the hack is this thing? It looks like somebody bought a lion king coloring book and just used whatever crayons they felt like on Scar. In every picture it has the exact same expression, and I’ve seen about fifty of them despite never once looking for one and the thing not bloody existing three weeks prior [to when I wrote this sentence]. The regular characters feature the full range of emotions from happy to douchey but this one is only douchey. I understand that villainous sorts are supposed to be less than friendly but one assumes it may get upset when inevitably foiled, and in any event there should be something to distinguish its bad smirkiness from the good smirkiness of the protagonists.
This is, I think, seven different people doing lame fan-traces based on the exact same shot, or simply reposting the frame verbatim as an original work and subsequently submitting this to the “group” gallery I found them in, since the cartoon had not yet aired, but some official images had been posted online from it, I guess? That’s so bad that I don’t even care that only the last one is unmistakably douchey at this size.

This first person had the clever insight to mirror the frame before tracing it. Ah and “good” here’s some passable douchiness. Even when these people try to think outside their own tumblr mandates all they can come up with is “He’s the puppet master!” or “he has them all on a chessboard!”

“Q trolls the ponies.” I saw a bunch of such remarks. The uninspiration hath folded in on itself! The thing people use as a pathetic launching point, to borrow characters from to use in their own stories, is itself borrowing characters? Is that what I’m to conject from this? Nerds love this stuff. Ah didn’t I once say that I loved that? I like when one writer finds a means of reusing their own characters in another situation where intellectual property restrictions seek to prohibit them from doing so. I don’t like when a point of nerd idolatry safely assumes, and REQUIRES that its audience be familiar with another bastion of nerddom. I’m not terribly proud I made that pointless page of video game references. But at least they were varied and over quickly. it wasn’t a drawn out reverent tribute to one series. Good gorf star trek. This IS just like Bob and George.

I hate alllllllllll these people! I can’t recall when last I loathed so many non-murderers because I self-administered shock therapy to forget that.

That’s everything they do. They consume, and imitate what they consume. Of COURSE they’ll love stuff that itself consumes and imitates. Does it matter if the program can stand on its own merit if you can sync it up to audio from The Big Ol’ Bowski? and then link it at me out of context after I already plainly didn’t care about the last six contextless clips you sent amidst not even asking me how I’m doing? One of the reasons I dislike Kevin Smith films is that there’s sure to be 10 to 20 minutes just of people talking about other movies. And this conversation will be the same every time you watch.

Also: do we truly require in this comic store a mal-configured widecreen tv to put Kevin Smith on? Isn’t he fat enough already? And why did the angel order alcohol if he can’t actually drink it and presumably never could? How would he have developed a taste for it? How does he even enjoy that?

If you had asked me but a week before this what my least favorite thing about the collective Star Trekkion was, I might have responded that it’s sterile, bland and slow-paced and there was no excuse for it to be that way after Star Wars* got made, much less in four consecutive series other than people themselves being boring. Further down the list might have been that invincible douchabix guy who I want to strangle that’s in some episodes, regardless of the series, for no reason, that isn’t a Romulan. I can’t stand Romulans. They’re such jerks. And at some point I gripe that the most exotic aliens at best have weird foreheads and funny skin colors. Right but the one guy I hate, apparently that’s the favorite character of everybody else. Especially furries. Why? Because they have no sense of subtlety and the smuggest, smirkiest character will always be their favorite. I was surprised when I found out anybody liked Spyro. I am no longer surprised.

*Star Wars the film, not Star Wars the Kevin Smith reference interlude. I grant all reference interludes the same right to be scorned.

One complaint that supposed little pony detractors commonly give is that this is a cartoon aimed at children, specifically heteronormative female children. That hurts their case, and if that’s the only case they can produce then they’re just as weak. I would question if in fact it is! I would then also question whether children comprise a majority of the total viewing audience. No reasonable child –apart from one making just such an advertising niche jump– could possibly care about a minor star trek character or that this show was mentioned on Jimmy Kimmy’s own abomination. I have never encountered this cartoon in the context of anyone under the age of 17 or off the internet*. Through being successfully targeted and then fudnuddling merchandise dollars and ad revenue into the enterprise, adults on the internet are the main audience. Additionally, by the show creators acknowledging the internet adult popularity and working to incorporate or be fully compatible with things they like, those become the target demographic, I say.
*excluding an embarrassing convention I attended, because those are essentially gatherings of real people acting out the internet.
**and then on September 29, some inconsequential loiter gang within my audible proximity at my university’s loiter area mentioned the cartoon, asking “is it at Hot Topic yet?” and they moved on within two minutes without anybody saying “bro.” Bro anything is bad news.

And I go to a school in which people talk about zombie apocalypses, hold “bake[d] sales” on April 20, wear shirts branded “winning” and all sorts of horrid rubbish that nobody should think is clever.

I have an unnatural, almost instinctive resistence to stuff that got too popular for no clear reason. This has surely saved me tens of thousands of dollars through the years on trendy clothes, music albums, cigarettes, beer, tomagotchis, furbies, skip-its and xboxes. I see no reason to give up on it for something that looks like this and that makes people act like this.

I’ve never encountered anybody who accepts video game music as a legitimate art form off the internet either, but I scarcely encounter them ON it unless I seek them out, and in any event it’s much more reasonable that something just one person likes should be a fringe matter; there are thousands of these pony dipes who exist exclusively in imaginary places. Sometimes I wish I was imaginary, but I am increasingly afraid I am.

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It did once come to my attention that somebody thought I made that, as well. I can thankfully remark that I did not, as much good as that would do for my public standing in the eyes of people I don’t want to be seen by. It’s not the worst in that gallery, but the worst in that gallery is enough to make me not want any. It might be well done but it’s nothing I want to look at.

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The next entry, on, let’s say, December 4, 2012, promises to bring a shocking exposing which you already knew.

8amish Sunday, I woke up to find this tree had overslept. The tree must work at the electric company because nobody had turned on the power until after it left.

Before then, some fire trucks and passengers gathered about for a while. After they determined no fire was on the premises they left in hot pursuit (ha ha) of more exciting tasks.

I can’t imagine they could see it very well with all these leaves in the way, though.

A few pedestrians strolled by to take pictures of the tree.

The hurricane was originally scheduled to stick around until late in the evening but when the lack of electricity terminated the free wi-fi it decided to get going and beat the traffic.

My own interest similarly spent on the matter, I wandered about in the rain, in search of things I understand.

Hey DUCK: this is NOT a lake or a pond. It is just WATER FROM THE SKY. There are no FISH in there because fish do not FALL FROM THE SKY. This wasn’t even THERE yesterday, dumb bird! They love finding the stupidest looking places possible to make their legs disappear.

Also on State Street: Aw frank, look at this disaster! What a mess! And i’ve just been reminded I actually took this picture the day before the hurricane showed up and that this scene has been blocking the road since last October.

As I returned to the climb scene at almost noon, an irritating alarm sounded from the liquor store that for once I’m going to assume I don’t need to show you. People love alarms. That’s why they always let the ones on their cars run for ten minutes before doing anything of pertinence to it. This situation was no different. Though the amount of people had increased in size, nobody bothered to take advantage of the already activated and blatantly ignored alarm noise and steal anything. They were too busy photographing the tree. I would approve their lawfulness and not deride their lack of initiative, but they also blatantly ignored the CAUTION tape around the tree. You fools! Don’t you know they’re more likely to bite when they’re injured!

A ha, progress, and order. Now a licensed work crew with reflective vests can take pictures of the tree.

They hung up some homemade stop signs about the intersection and departed.

By all meeps, get out of your car in the midst of the road to take several pictures of the tree. I’d put extra importance on this if your car has screen windows.

This yellow truck showed up in the vicinity of 3pm to make it clear that coalition forces now occupied both sides of the street. Also, some cones. The tree slowly starts to realize it is outnumbered. More people took pictures. If that thing doesn’t clean up its act in a hurry it’s going to be REALLY embarrassed on face book later.

A hobokin on the steps of the building nearest the tree observed me looking at the tree roots and interrogated “You know why this happened?” Before I could prepare my defense he answered his question and blamed it on the sidewalk which had been installed during the previous year. Supposedly the roots were cut from below this area for no reason I could guess and that made the tree feel more inclined to recline. Two hours later this fellow was still there, no doubt keeping the populace informed. I suppose he thought if electricity was never restored we’d revert to a tribal system and he had a shot at becoming village elder, getting control of the magic sword in the process, and then he could use that to rob the liquor store for real this time.

An industrial loader! Now we mean business. Enough to not call that a “bulldozer,” even. When the tree sees that unoccupied construction vehicle staring down its caution tape it will surely be intimidated into compliance. Despite the loader looking like a toy in this picture I assure you it only did the job of one. The loader’s driver continually asked a similarly dressed fellow “is it ON, stupid?” Oh it’s on NOW, with you calling me names and such.

The shovel machine was friends with a dumptruck. The dumptruck left when it realized somebody had already dumped on this street. The yellow truck was actually blinking its lights now.

5:30pim: The loader was gone when I came out to make another departure, and suddenly from the right it came speeding toward the object on the left. At last! Then it slowed down and stopped again. I think the tree is getting the message. The yellow truck had turned off its lights in the meantime.

Somebody bought the flashlight, I surmise. A pity for the scarcity; the best part of blackouts is frosted mini-wits standing in the street, illuminating the ground in front of them and then courteously blinding me when I approach to walk past them because if I just felt like staring at unchanging darkness without going anywhere I’d have stayed inside.

An hour or some such thing later, at about 7 in the PM, the yellow truck is gone but the tree remains. But what’s this? A van has just arrived branded UI, United Illuminating, a company that actually deals with electricity. THIS blinking light will get the tree’s attention finally.

By 9pm the tree was still there, but we successfully set a record for most amount of diesel powered vehicles to idle outside a single apartment complex and then leave without doing anything.
I crossed the danger line to get this incredible footage. That was foolish, and I should not have put my life in peril. The wind blew a small speck of dirt into my left eye. But for 9:30pm, another truck shew up. THIS time it was one of those hauling/utility/whatnot trucks that I’m used to seeing around fallen objects during power outages. It left immediately. I’m glad some people still keep traditional values alive.

Eventually I went to my sleep lump, realizing my chances of the truck fairy compensating me for even one of them dwindled by the minute while I remained awake.

Ah I see. Yes of course, you’re supposed to bring in the noisy devastation machines after midnight so as to not disturb anybody. NOW things will be done.

For example, you can take pictures of the tree in a whole new context. I wish I’d written my website url on it.

A police car is over here. The tree is obviously resisting arrest. Collapsed in the street like that, it’s probably been abusing drugs. We expect to find high quantities of bud in its system, and not a little bit of weed.


On second thought we’ll let it go with a warning. But just this once! Goodnight folks. (imagine this is a picture of the loader rolling down the perpendicular street and not Snarf from Thundercats ambushing you in the dark)