Is this site still here? I could have sworn I threw it out last week.
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I honestly have no idea sometimes.
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I think this is boring, but I already told somebody I’d write about it, and now I have to.
A few people seemed to think I had missed the point of a ubiquitous trend in internet advertising which I have complained about recently: that the things are supposed to be ugly. I believe now that there is no point to miss, and the absence of one is what worries me. It is true that I did not consider that the ugliness may be deliberate, but now that I have, I find it yet less forgivable.
The New York good ol Times website, which apparently doesn’t force me to log in anymore but still uses crazy click-tracky urls, had a story about the weird ads over two years before I could no longer contain my indignation. Yes, the ads get people’s attention. So does murdering them and/or wearing a suit made entirely of pizzas. Not all attention is good. And unless they’re from Sbarro there’s a good chance you ruined those pizzas.
Of course, that’s just the lower m’bills gang; the “get ripped” people are probably ripping off (oh ho) the proven winner. And so the thing that was unique five years ago is now irritatingly common in addition to sickeningly unsightly. In that not-mine article, the company also claims credit for the “click the icon representing your state” series, which I hate more than most other things. That one was so ugly it literally made me itch. It was like Chakan. The fifty tiny icons with state abbreviations on them presented as kernels of corn or large eyed ladybugs, bobbing around at the same time. 100 creepy eyes really close together and instead of mouths or pincers they had pairs of letters. It made me ill, as well as my computer, which struggled to render so many separate objects at the same time in a flash file. If my computer could vomit, I’d wish it wouldn’t.
So, anyway, ads are ugly, and they know it, and they like it.
Across six decades, television ads evolved from happy-go-lucky-go-shoppy hokeyness to cynical, market-researched “yeah, no…” scrumsack panderthons, but they’ve always been selling a product or a service. Even the Angry Gumball. I’ve been on and off the internet for over ten years, and banner ads have always been surreally disgusting and they’ve never had much to offer beyond vague schemes. Fill out this survey and win! Hit the monkey and win! No, forget that peef, you ALREADY won!
They don’t even bother with an asterisk most of the time. I don’t understand them and I don’t trust them. When similarly shifty operations like Cashcall show up on television, they resemble banner ads. Somehow, there is a lucrative category of customer who can be brought in entirely through blind curiosity over an ugly thing. This is not surprising; I never seem to get over it, but since the early 90s, cartoons have gotten uglier and uglier (or stayed as ugly while ones which were less ugly deaded out), and more and more kids have grown up watching more and more ugliness. They have been bred to be fond of the repulsive. The fact that anybody can be persuaded to drop dollars like this sickens me. It’s like in a feel-good-movie-of-the-year where some idiot will be taping triscuits to his socks or something and a billionaire happens to be passing by and says “that’s just the sort of ingenuity I’m looking for! Come work for me! Here’s $50000 regardless!” Why I oughtta!
While lover-my-bills actually does have a thing that it does, which is referring people to companies which in turn pay that website for the referral, I naturally assume the recommendations are less than the best possible advice and that LMB is more likely to refer to companies that pay it more for referrals. In part because its method for drawing customers is insincere, in part because it’s on the internet. The internet, where you can get music, movies and 600 dollar software for free, but actually attempting to pay somebody for something can cost you your live’s monetary savings because you paid the wrong people (or merely because your credit card was compromised when the 973rd “insecure connection” warning your computer didn’t bother to show you actually meant something). Which is a stupid generalization, and probably one that has been made before. Lowermebills probably isn’t a scam, but it acts like one, and actual scams act like it. I can’t myself conceive of how a nice looking advertisement for that company would look, though. They either have to be the ugliest or not succeed, because all they’re selling is dubious advice. It’s not my job to investigate what services are legitimate and which aren’t. There are places you can get information like that, and you should, if you give the slightest consideration to giving credit card information to a site you came to through a non-sequitur advertisement designed by first-graders.
The American Family Publishers were notorious for informing people that they “may already have won” millions of dollars as a way of enticing those people to buy trashy magazines through the mail. Do you know what happened to that? People sued the company out of existence because it was LYING. Publisher’s Clearing House was worse, but it scammed a lot more people, and so the amount that didn’t bother to sue it back collectively still bought enough magazines it didn’t want to keep the company in business. Or something. I read the wikehhhpedia page about a year ago so don’t use me as a source when you write a research paper for your sweepstakes studies class. People could have avoided being fooled if they’d paid more attention, but it never occurred to them that in this country there were large groups of people actively working to scam them out of their money. These days, of course, that happens on a much grander scale with companies scamming the government itself while simultaneously convincing the same government to pass more and more laws that allow bigger and bigger scams. And so compared to that, a decade’s worth of colorful flashing lies controlling the internet doesn’t seem as bad. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stand back and watch them flash and lie without a fight, either.
I’m glad uh someone believes in me.
If you have a PROBLEM I’d appreciate if you’d just say so.
What does THAT mean? Is it some sort of a warning? Or a threat? Arb, I hate not knowing!
Renk, I have to talk to some dumb monster now? Forget it, I don’t WANT to know!
I said I don’t want to- oh fiddle dee diaper.
We would like to apologize in advance for the overabundance of exposed pectoral and thereabouts imagery in this moderately mediocre page update, but we went way over-budget on regret last year and the boss has requested that why try to keep that sort of thing to a minimum for now. So watch out. Also, the fiend pictured above is not the boss. It’s not employed, either. Whoever let it in here will soon also not be.
Getting dressed, however, will take another month. This fellow may even have sold his clothing for more abs, as the rack of garments, in addition to his extensive collection of facial expressions seems to have been removed between the two pictures. “Abs” being an abbreviation of “abdominal partitions,” which people wish to have as many of as possible for some reason. I reckon you could get the same effect by tying strings tightly around yourself and not removing them for a year, sort of like when you wear the same sock for too long.
Is there something wrong with me for thinking that sort of grotesque muscling is unpleasant in appearance and almost sort of gross? That guy looks like he has a skin-eating disease. He looks like a xenomorph. It’s not as bad as comic book art, where everything is outlined in black and is visible through all clothing, as if the curious costumes are stapled directly to peoples’ stomachs. That is not a factor in this situation, however, as this man owns no shirts, and we thankfully cannot see his legs.
In some cases, such as with the Bat-Man, special suits can be acquired which are muscular even when they aren’t in use. It is a proprietary technology of Wayne Enterprises which involves use of a special machine that coats the material in miniature tic-tac-toe boards.
Thank me for not showing their whole bodies. Or even better just curse me less for everything else I’ve ever done. No, no, please forget that. I know when I’m asking too much.
I made a brief, futile attempt to figure out, for drawing purposes, how the things work a while back and an alarming number of the exhibits I encountered online featured uniformly stripped away skin but didn’t bother with the eyes, even though tho tho those are organs and not muscles. And you might contribute that it would look more creepy without the eyes, and that I have no reason to assume that other organs are not also included. Why do you insist on making things more difficult for me? This is hard! Maybe if the creeple people didn’t look totally content with the situation I would be less bothered… It almost seems normal for them. Perhaps it’s a “Data from Star Trek” sort of contentment, in the absense of standard emotions, but that’s the most unsettling of all.
The right one looks like Data, I mean.
The left one looks like Deacon “Dave” Batistor of the wuh-whee wrestling federation, whose inarguable use of growth supplements may well indeed have shriveled his testicular units to g-rated muscle chart illustration level visibility, who also only has a limited quantity of facial expressions and is not fond of proper dress, but he doesn’t look as lifelike.
Or maybe it’s “the” Brock Lesnarbert, formerly of the WWE and currently of the Ultimate Fighting Guys-on-ground-not-moving Federation. I think my point is that I wish I didn’t know who either of them were.
This one, while not QUITE as creepy, proves they can be aware of my presence and I fear it may alert the others. Many appear to have hair, also. It’s not Slim Goodbody afro hair, but it still shouldn’t be there. As long as they’re awake and aware of the situations, they ought to put some clothes on. Even the ones with discrete lumps in specific areas rather than uh. Covering their muscular systems may render them unfit to serve as models of muscular systems, but I already implied that I gave up on my attempt to draw it properly (I implied this by uploading artwork in which it was evident I had not bothered to learn anything) that so they should leave me alone. I am a quitter because I’m afraid to be a loser. I decline to comment on how I feel about being a coward. But shark! What’s that I hear?
Ho ho oaf! Santa Claus finally accepted my steroid jelly beans on a plate! I knew if I kept my decorations up for another week something grand would happen! (though you might want to pass on the milk, pharma-culinary tradition aside) You need to put on mass, ya jingly twig!
Why does the Red Robin need to ride around in a dirigible? Birds can fly on their own. Get to work, bird! More importantly, why is the passenger chamber an enormous, hollowed out hamburger? What is keeping the pieces together? Not a sense of unity inspired by strong leadership, definitely. I’ve seen that facial expression on an incompetent aviator before.
Here is a clearer view I found on the website for the crooked masterminds supposedly [ir]responsible. First of all, COKE BOTTLE PROPELLERS! More importantly, what business has this confessed commie flying the stars and stripes? American robins are not robins at all. They are thrushes. Therefore, one way or another this lofty Leninist is a feathery fraud. How could anybody trust it?
It’s bad enough that this treasonous pteranodon advocates factory bred livestock meat consumption, but using its product to construct your personal chariot is just decadent and probably more than a little bit gross.
Even the person who ordered that this television box be installed in the FLOOR thinks you’ve gone too far. I reckon.
Additionally, beef is one thing (or rather, many, many things whose constant production dooms our planet), but this egomaniacal erithacus has, in a move that surprises me less and less these days, sold out some of its other feathren…
“Clucks!” The chicken fingers are called “clucks!” They were good tasting chicken fingers, but if I at any point heard one CLUCK I might have felt the need to CHUCK. See also: actual chicken fingers.
But hey, what ho*: free refills on so. Da. I will deliberately abstain from soft drinks when I know I will be attending an appropriate dining facility so that I can better make use of such unlimited imbibement potential. Of course, for 2.39 I could probably buy half a case of the stuff and drink it at my leisure rather than all at once, and spare myself the carbonation sickness for the remainder of the evening, but this is one of few areas in which I am capable of “showing off” to others, and so I will take it, because I have a sad and empty life. This and eating the pickle chips that come with my french fries. In fact, if I don’t get any I will ask for some. I like pickles with my french fries. What I don’t like: morally mishapping plumed passerine poltroons.
You agree with me, don’t you?
*I am no ho.
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Apparently, updating this page once every five days is even too frequent.
There is clearly much more important business to tend to, besides.
Poliglotery sounds horrible only to dumbs…
From: “Heart Attack Jones” <[email protected]>
To: “Diane Sawyer” <[email protected]>
Date: Fri, 18 Sep 2009 6:01 AM (5 days 11 hours ago)
Esteemed M. Fabrax,
As you may well know, the G-20 summit will be taking place next week here in Pittsburough. You of course do not live in Pittsburrah, but in light of the recent economic brouhaha, I understand this has been quite a topic elsewhere, as well (or at least Deutsche Welle news gives me this impression). Avid social commentator as you are, I thought that perhaps you might be interested making a work of art to commemorate this event. Ah, but of what subject matter? Well, I personally can’t help you there, but perhaps there’s a chance some third party may have given you a suggestion at some point in the last few weeks which might somehow be thematically appropriate…?
Hmm…
– A retarded samurai
Seven brides for seven brothers
My my me, where is the time going?
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I thought it was bad when I saw Halloween M&Ms for sale on August 7…
But Comedy Central set me straight by showing a Hanukkah movie less than two weeks later. Or the Hanukkah movie, I guess.
The MnMs might not seem so bad when I show them to you on September 7, but that doesn’t happen until Monday, and by then we will all have forgotten about this. One hopes.
Why is the general trying to sell me automobile insurance? Shouldn’t he be advising the president on military affairs?
Why is he hiking through antarctica in such crucial times of war? No wondering we can’t win this.
Now he’s in a totally different office! Once again, with his website up. He probably does that on all the computers at Best Buy, too. Either he’s a lunatic who wanders around and poses in other people’s offices or he’s a decadent scoundrel who buys all new stuff every week. He is competent enough to change his telephone number, so I must assume the latter case. He’s a FIVE star general, too. That rank isn’t even AVAILABLE most of the time. This guy’s been around and done it all. “It all” evidently comprising less crucial situations than I previously thought. Why, how did it come to this?
Hey, general, I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to transport penguins out of their natural habitat. Not that you can leave the country in your automobile, but I’m sure you can go somewhere; otherwise, why would you be trying to? Aside from that you’re crazed with greed and cold, I mean. Maybe he thinks if he appears with something cute I’ll purchase insurance from him. Eh, no dice, pallywag. I only buy insurance from ducks, cgi lizards and cartoon lady secret agents wearing latex bodysuits.
Here he is yet again, standing on a box, harassing some guy. How did the general even get into the military? He’s much too tiny to pass even the most rudimentary basic training screenings.
When things get tricky, when The Law comes on to the general’s schemes, he hides out in
this Doom textured igloo from the penguin he abducted, I assume murdered and assumed the identity of. Although now that I think of it, based on the location of his summer villa, his stature and his lack of morals, it is equally feasible that the general was a penguin in disguise all along (possibly Tennessee Tuxedo, which would explain his flightless, flighty nature and access to the Commander), selling dubious insurance, running from town to town duping unsuspecting humans, merely trying to finance his perpetual travel expenses. Always on the move, always on the run. The tragedy of The General.
I can’t imagine why he’s scared of us.
Am I better off with total whitening or total advanced whitening? How is it possible to advance beyond total? Does the advanced one make teeth translucent? Is it just more challenging? How can this goop hope to accomplish any whitening at all without
whitening oxygen bubbles? Clearly, they are essential. Ha ha, I pity any poor fool who bought normal advanced whitening without knowing oxygen bubbles had been invented. That person is doomed to a life of sub-caucasian bite bricks.
I actually tried this eventually, and you’ll be surprised to know that in actual usage it’s exactly the same as every other toothpaste I’ve ever used.
I might go so far as to declare that the finest regular I’ve ever tasted.
How are there so many different types of toothpaste, with so little information provided to help a person choose? Is it important which one I use? I did not think it was like with soda or salsa or saltlakrids, where it’s a trivial thing I don’t need, am actually better off without, and should choose entirely upon the whim of a moment. This is supposed to be a tool for cleaning a sensitive, integral series of body components. It’s a health issue, not a fashion conundrum. Yes, there are heaps of soaps, too, but they are competing soap brands offering similar products. This is one brand offering similar products. When you do see multitudes of soap under one label it tends to be about the various smells they give off. I try to avoid smelling people’s teeth.
This article’s author has encountered far more colgates than I, but doesn’t answer, nor ask the question of what’s actually in the interests of teeth themselves (it does, however, include a picture which clicking upon causes to appear a javascript window with a smaller version of the picture inside it). Do I want to prevent cavities or fight plaque? Why do we lack the technology to do both? Long ago it was my understanding that all toothpastes did all these things. Now, though, they’ve gone soft. Toothpaste? More like toothglue! Eh eh eh.
Which of these is actually the most beneficial is impossible to discern. Not just because your deteriorating vision has rendered the print a blurry, unintelligible mess, but because each paste type only includes the check boxes which would be checked. They are, in effect, mere bullet points, but this makes them seem like bonus features. Which reminds me…
With Webster Premier Banking you get 5000 bonus points. Do you have any idea what that means? That means you’ll be one fourth of the way toward getting your first extra life. What other bank can promise you something so matenopoulos?
See! Only Wachovia gives you a Way to Save. You don’t even need extra lives when your bank has exclusive access to the Imperial Scrolls of Honor. Truly a glamorous bonus.
No, Baramos Bomus! Nobody ever calls you! Get out of here! You are not needed at this time! Go away before your friends show up…
Wonderful. Now there’s some idiot purple monster skeleton here. Surely you can admit that’s kind of stupid.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN “KIND OF” STUPID?
Aren’t you glad I don’t update this site every two days anymore?
This is the saddest day of my life.
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I have been busy, lately. The internet has been regularly dysfunctional. These are not good circumstances for keeping websites. Only a fool would continue to do so!
I don’t trust any company that can show full tv shows for free yet still make a big enough profit to make produce 2 minute long ads with computer effects and superfluous celebrities and air them during America’s worst (id est: best) shows. They think they’re being clever with that tagline, but it comes across as just about the only thing sincere about it to me. There’s another ad that you’ve undoubtedly seen, if you see ads, featuring Alecander Baldwin, but I can actually tolerate him off the ads, at least. Denis Leary, however, always makes me uncomfortable, and this is regardless of whether or naw he ripped off Bill Hicks. Bill Hicks, by the wuh, I never heard of until maybe a year ago, by which point he had been dead for fourteen of them. I have since seen his name in several places. Did he come back to life recently? It’s hard to say, because if he had he still wouldn’t have appeared in this ad (this is, of course, assuming it would have been offered to him and that in fourteen years he did not undergo the necessary changes in character, which I would not put past anybody I have yet witnessed within my electric picture box. And that assumes his supposed anti-consumerist stances reflected his actual character and not just viewpoints adopted for the sake of a comedy routine).
Even before I knew about those ads, I didn’t trust Hulu. I just hated its name. It reminded me of hula. More specifically, Tony Danza, Fred Flintstone, et arrrg; america’s least respectable father figures and miscellaneous male oafs wearing grass skirts and coconut brassieres during inexplicable island getaway sweeps episodes that were always embarrassing. Also, nohulo, the non-website some garbanzo boron tried to make me pay homage to once.
Now I hate Hulu’s money and its attitude. I like to think what draws people to youtube is that it’s so ghetto and junkety that it seems like it can’t possibly be a corporate conspiracy (though with the bandwidth it carries it could not function if it wasn’t). But really, people will go anyplace where there is visual record of cats being idiots. You know that. I know that.
What I hate is when that isn’t enough for people, when they have to add obnoxious commentary, often attributed to the cat, in [non-negotiable] impact-font lettering, superimposed over the image.
It is scarcely a step above what cats say on greeting cards, except everybody’s too busy making more of them to charge money, so they’re inescapable.
Did I make that just now in 20 seconds or find it somewhere in 10? It doesn’t make a difference! (and I actually made it over a year ago in 20 seconds in recognition of a more general untraceable, unquestionable internet non-joke tradition complaint whose specific uninspired inspiration I have fortunately forgotten, which is why it doesn’t have a cat in it) We’re all grunting apes pasting letters on things. Everybody wants to be like Frankenstein. There used to be a thing kids did back when they talked to each other, they would hold one hand out, palm downward, slap the nearer edge repeatedly against their chest and say “URT URT URT I’M INTARDED!” That was as far as it went. If it went any further it would be dumber than whatever it thought it was mocking. Things were different back then. We could see a picture of a cat doing something strange and think “that cat is doing something strange.” We can’t be trusted to do that now.
I would like this without the awful letters. Now, though, it makes me mad, and this is probably one of the less awful examples. And, and, why should we univerally assume that if cats could speak it would be like that?
Some cats are very classy. Not this one, obviously, but some.
Howdy.
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Less than one complete day has finished itself since the initial exhibition of my previous new internet object. I did not like that being at the top of my page. I am not sure I particularly desire this audacious foolishness there, either, but at least it is finished with faster. I don’t have much to say about it. I am too appalled.
It is estimated that The Government spends two trillion greemish meepmarks (to put that in perspective, it is approximately 320 billion krippendorfian megapesos) annually on sophisticated aircraft like these and we simply cannot afford to assign them such incompetent pilots. Do disregard the rumors that the firm Pineco was unjustly granted a no-bid contract to manufacture the planes and has used substandard building materials to cut its own costs.
Also, the new These Green Eyes album Relapse to Recovery is still for sale. It is not on sale, and ordinarily I would advocate waiting until a thing was, because everything will be eventually, but sometimes pumpkins.
I have lost my concept of weird.
I’ve just had a look for the first time in about a year and it turns out that writing two full pages about the marsupwhatever video game is something I should be incredibly ashamed by. Also that every thing I’ve written since that has had a link to it at the right. That is no good. That is not right. My feet stick out of bed all night. And when I pull them in — oh dear! My head sticks out of bed up here. Some of it is funny, thankfully, but not nearly as much as I thought, and it’s mostly the image “title” comments, which most people never see.
So how has it happened that the page I put before you today lacks those comments entirely* but is an improvement content-wise, and deals with pastel colored equidae yet is less embarrassing? The answer may shock you. And so I shall not tell.
*that was yesterday. The one I put before you today is fully equipped.
Bat-Man wants your eggs.
Happy birthday!
Surely someone’s birth-date occurred today.
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This web-location has not been very professional recently. If it does not improve soon I may have to take my business elsewhere.
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That movie “Smart People” makes me mad. I haven’t seen it and I won’t see it because it makes me mad. And not even because the name is “Smart People.” Like they’re saying I’m dumb if I don’t see it. I am not so easily tricked! That movie thinks it and its people are so smart! With their dull emotionless non-joke self-centered whiny people I beat that movie up! Sarah Jessica Parker is creepy. Her eyes are too small and her nose is too big. If she wasn’t one of those people I’m automatically supposed to like it would still bother me but I wouldn’t feel so compelled to say so. Not that such a thing is a reason to not watch movies but ahhh and this cannot get longer without me thinking about it and I don’t want to. That hasn’t been getting good results lately. Good pumpkins.
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This webpage has a reason to exist.
I would like to report that some unknown vagrant recently abused my horses by feeding them bananas.
I need to know. If I answer incorrectly the kidnappers swear they’ll rub a gluestick on my head and attach a banana there and bring in a horse. I’m not even sure if they can do that.
I was thinking again recently, about pork and beans. Beets AND pork and beans. I can’t handle them both!
DON’T… Don’t you try and distract me from my mission!
But beets and pork and beans? Really? Why can’t we compromise? Why not just beets and beans? Or beets and pork? Or how about no beets whatsoever and we only buy the pork and beans? I don’t see why things need to be so complicated!
The fact that I’m buying them in cans ought to indicate that I prefer to have difficult tasks done for me. And… and… How am I supposed to have a serious discussion about these important matters with that stupid animal interrupting me all the time, filling up the whole page with itself and idiotic opposing statements comprised of letters three times as large as mine? It’s really not fair.
Then how do you get away with not wearing clothes? You’re being absurd.
THAT DOESN’T… no, nevermind. Also, it has no nose. Yes, so, that’s the reason putting new things on this website has been so difficult the past few months, and I don’t expect it to improve.
It may surprise you to know, but I have problems. I don’t know if I would attend an art gallery specifically because all the artists have problems, but the fact remaineth that one has been arranged.
From February 8 to March 21, of whatever year this entry starts with, some of my and other persons’ silly pictures will be on display at, uih,
Small Space Gallery
70 Audubon Street, 2nd Floor
New Haven, Connecticut
America
I am pretty sure it’s free. If it isn’t, I’m certainly not getting a cut. Unless I err during my axe juggling routine. Every time I do that my cruel governess gets a knife and cuts me.
Also, on Thursday, this Thursday, the seven, at some point between 5 and 7 pm, I will be present for something called “Artists’ Talk,” which I’m told will involve me answering any questions any day-early attendees might happen to ask. They don’t have to be about the pictures, either. Ask me about pelicans. Ask me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street. Ask me what I think of the [expected] mediocre catering/lack of catering. Ask me how many pages I got into the book Dune (and then laugh). Ask me about croutons. But someone ask me something, please. The situation always goes stupid when I talk before more than three people and… I’m going down anyway, so I’d like to ruin it for others, as well.
I don’t want to make too big an issue of this, especially after I spent much of yesterday complaining about pictures from the internet I lack the skill to have assembled. I also find it highly doubtful that anyone who reads this, if anyone reads this, would be able to attend, whether due to the location or the minimal notice, and that if they could they’d be able to find the place.
But if you do go you will get to see, in person, this astounding Vance May picture, but a mere grubby likeness of which is printed on one side of the official invitation. The reason I have an invitation, when I’m being having one of the exhibits… The mega autism people who arranged the thing, for whatever reason, sent me about twenty of these, expecting me to mail them to people, entirely forgetting that they’re the mega autism people. Autism being a disorder associated with awkward social relationships and stunted public mobility. Sure, it’s “high functioning autism,” but that’s about the mental malfunction equivalent of saying I’m a credit to my race. Did you see when I said I wrote a letter to a lawyer? I wrote it, yes, but someone else had to send it because I’m useless (and so it is quite possible that my begrudging notice of compliance was replaced with an undeserved insincere sniveling apology to the wretched wretches at some point in the process). I have to write a note, put it inside a different thing, write a code on it, then put that inside another thing which some person I’ll never see then takes to some other place, and it will be days before I know if I did it properly, if anyone feels like telling me. How can I trust that? I’ll destroy them. Even if I was about to address all these and put them in a mailbox, and assure myself I’d done it properly, I don’t know that many people + addresses that I would risk assuming would be willing to bother with me. That up there isn’t necessarily how I’d want to tell them, either.
The only person I’m bringing is whoever brings me. So… if you know any motorcycle gangs, rodeo clowns or crazed robots in the New Haven region, perhaps you could tell them to could go in your place.
That, the previous thing, I only mentioned it because I felt I had to. I didn’t, really, but eh I did. A proper dissertation on that website’s garbagityness would surely have taken few days for me to get out and wouldn’t have been all that entertaining. Not that what I ultimately said was, but in this alternate case the intent wouldn’t even have been there. Intent is important, so you don’t get cold at night. I do this to amuse myself, after all.
Only on the internet does a name like “detroit is crap” pass for innocuous.
Well. Apparently I forgot to click “publish” four days ago.
Sometimes these things happen.
This is from February, which legally counts as “this year.”
My problem is not that the animals are painted on airplanes, it’s not that they talk, it’s not that they try to be funny in that ultra obnoxious mid 1990s-forever humor style (Like when something embarrassing happens, instead of helping the situation or just keeping quiet an observing party says “awkwarrrd!” or “busted” and makes me want to murder), but actually the combination of all those things. I remember that the dominant male airplane painting asked the sassy female airplane painting on a date and got SHOT DOWN. Oooh, slice. Even if I didn’t hate these character archetypes three times as much as usual when they’re applied to animals which would be highly unlikely to engage in contemporary North American courting rituals, the fact of the matters is that as paintings they cannot move. They cannot go anywhere. They are stuck on the airplanes eternally. It is doubtful they can even see each other, being two dimensional and unfeasibly able to look in any direction other than straight ahead. Even if somehow the reverse side has another looking forward painting, that would have to be a separate two-dimensional animal or else risk violating the laws of everything. Even if they can look forward and backward at the same time, the other airplane the fox airplane speaks to is in a different row and depicts a species of doubtful breeding compatibility. What any of this has to do with bookling flights I have not even thought about yet. If the frontier airlinists wanted me not to do that they succeeded.
The only thing less original than naming a rabbit “Jack” is naming a fox “Foxy.” Sure, “Grizwald” is a terribly uncreative name for a bear that’s been used enough times in the past, but at least it has the “wald” in there. The bit about the penguins is alarming, as that probably only happened because there was a feature film last year about singing penguins. So now penguins always have to sing? America hungers for singing penguins? If something’s corny and annoying, commercial businesses will rip it off and perpetuate its annoying corniness.
Hey, if this is on the radio, aren’t you just hearing voice actors? How do you know they’re animals at all unless they say so, and why would they say so? Arrrrrrrrnnnnndiudiudiudiudiudiuh!
I doubt those airplanes go any place I’d want to go anyhow. Even if they did I probably wouldn’t because I’m afraid of being legally rape-searched because my hair was too long or the handwriting analysts don’t trust my serifed 1s. And then I’ll probably be arrested and raped again in jail because I’m always carrying something somebody doesn’t like. My worst-case air disaster scenarios always end long before I get in the air.
Is that a paperclip?
It appears to be so.
What?
Yes, it is a paperclip.
You getting smart with me?
No! I was very stupid to bring a paperclip!
Why do you have a paperclip?
Because I put it in this pocket three years ago and forgot about it.
Have you ever downloaded roms?
I… don’t see how-
Answer the question or get naked!
I can’t even get far enough to become stuck in a delay. Terrorism? What’s that? Is that when you get raped legally in the name of maintaining order? I’m sure while my orifices quake afterwards I’ll be grateful those people were so organized.
In summary: foxes are bad news and should be dealt with accordingly.