3-8-2022 was one of those days when everything seemed to need to be fixed at once but i will ATTEMPT to post a proper website for 3-9, I know this is very important to me that I do this.
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decisions, decisions!


In the end I could not resist a good old fashioned crispy hormone, but I had to send it back because while the preparers remembered to include the pickle chips I requested for the frites, they neglected to leave the weird slimy aioli off the main event sandwich, although the server insisted “I told them no aioli!” Officially it is supposed to be a sauce made of garlic, olive oil and salt but in trendy american restaurants that charge $15 minimum for a sandwich that is a code word for “disgusting mayonnaise to disguise the lack of flavor on everything but meant to sound fancier than mayonnaise.” The Popeyes restaurant chain also puts mayonaiz on its sandwiches by default but those cost about one third the price, are comparable in size and are actually properly seasoned if you succeed in getting your request for no mayonaiz heeded. I don’t know if the sandwiches are hormone or aren’t, admittedly, and they don’t come with french fries but I didn’t ask for french fries! And when I get them anyway the quantity I receive is lately not outstanding. Though it looks marginally less silly in that bowl than essentially the exact same order the last time I was at a Friendly’s joint, evidently in 2016

am I supposed to be impressed by this cage on a stick? it also looks as if I was denied a complementary pickle on this occasion, even though friendly’s was at one time the only place that would give me such material.

another “artisinal” restaurant, another nearly identical chicken sandwich, another underwhelming quantity of french fries in a weird bowl, plus pickle fragments that I probably had to request. Word has gone out within the past decade that potato scraps must be limited and not touch sandwiches and brined cucumber scraps must be yet more tightly rationed, even at locations that dare be properly lit and not have dark wood tables. I think this establishment was called Haywire. Haywire is of course a well-known informal terminology for a situation that is completely under control. Think about it, rectangular plates are much more spatially efficient than circular ones. Since this is USAmerica, we can’t solve a problem without immediately filling the void with another problem that we charge premium prices for. The space made efficient is remade inefficient by putting extra sets of spaces within it that don’t need to be there. It’s like those “hatchdimals” and “lol surprise” dolls my niece was so obsessed with for a while, that came in huge expensive packages which mostly contained more layers of packaging, and then in the middle would be a tiny little doll that possibly would be one she already had, because it’s not legally underaged gambling if their parents have to buy it for them, I suppose. For stuff that I buy for myself however I would definitely prefer they stop directing the money toward the acquisition and cleaning of funny serving vessels.

ah that’s more like it…no! That is NOT more like it! I mean put more food on the plate, not make the plate smaller!

I assume the serving size is based on how many fries this guy can fit in his jacket pocket.
but it could be worse

does this look like eight dollars worth of soup to you? this same dining zone also provided me with a refill on my iced tea without me requesting it, and then charged for an extra cup of iced tea on the receipt. and it was UNSWEETENED iced tea. I had to do the work of making it actually taste like something myself, QUITE for free. I appreciate that they totally filled the cup at least, why that was two bowls of soup worth of liquid!

on another occasion, since for the time being I end up taking someone to restaurants that I don’t necessarily want to be at weekly, or more, depending on how susceptible to guilt I am, I noticed several of these chairs outside the building, and an employee came out and asked me why I was taking pictures of them. I thought they looked neat. They did. on the day when i was overcharged for soup the chairs were very cheap but I was concerned about being seen taking pictures of them. My guess is the staff are aware of the detereorating furniture and were looking to get me to admit that but i hadn’t noticed it then! And you know what I don’t care about using crummy furniture if the eating experience is enjoyable, and it rather wasn’t. If you think I order too many chicken sandwiches, this place only has steak and fish sort of junk and it is worse and costs twice as much. just a trashy dumb defensive place all around.

it even has a perimeter wall like it is expecting invaders. however we have much more effective modern ways of averting needless warfare

I actually made this dumb little image edit days ago –after this extremely popular twitter post that isn’t necessary to look at, the link is just to keep me from posting a picture of it– but abstained from posting it, unsure if it was only funny to me because I was completely out of touch with the world. Or if it looked more like Richard Nixon than Vladimir Putin. All Jack Kirby men have a bit of Nixon in them. But maybe sanctions actually WILL work? Or maybe they’ll just, as usual, punish everyone except the autocrats who always remain quite well taken care of, who if they need anything just grab it from someone beneath them, and blame outsiders imposing sanctions and act yet more erratically. can anything REALLY be done?

ah jolly good I feel better now.

Why are you pouting? Did you not pay attention to what you put in your own cart? Until after you paid and walked out? Typical miply stupid animal.

NO! Do NOT act like you are doing me a favor! I did NOT ask you to buy that!
Actually, as dopey as that thing is I would not recommend walking inside a shop rite without waterproof boots since there is usually a spill in there somewhere with no employee for miles.

If you are not familiar with Shop Rite, good. It is like a Stop & Shop or a Kroger or a Food Lion except you get an uneasy feeling that you are trash when you are inside.

The drawing is of course inspired by the older shop rite logo. The one that it is impossible to find a photograph of that does not look like a crime scene. The current Shop Rite logo does not just have weird lumps floating over a coal black mine cart; it also has shards and scraps in the mix.

Also note that while they redrew the graphic they didn’t fix the glaring spelling and grammar error in the store’s title.
This Shop Rite is at the Railroad Salvage plaza, which in the absence of better data I will presume means all the groceries were illegally stolen from train wrecks that may or may not have been engineered by the

yet older logo’s sinister silhouette of Inspector Gadget beside some sort of death ray.

This person was created when the protagonist from the Apple Macintosh Trashic “Climber” bumped into the middle elevator too many times.

Ordinarily upon collision Climber will turn sideways, flop out its legs and have impotent rage while totally immobile for 5 to 40 seconds, however much time you have remaining, which was the perfect time to strike. I would like to get my own screen shot of this but emulating old macintosh games is the most arcane and arduous task on the planet. Forced, impregnable obsolescence on an Apple product is nothing new. This is harder than using an itunes gift card without installing iTunes (AND quicktime), which is impossible. It is even harder than coming out of a shop rite without crying.

What’s worse: that this isn’t enough Chef Boy ar Dee to satisfy the masses, or that they refer to this tinned glop as “supplies?”

This person is happy because the pertinent Shop Rite is clearly out of business.

the next part of this story that only mentions shop rite at the end
the part after that one which has far too much shop rite in it

Market research has determined that processed artificial cheese goop is not disgusting enough, so this graphic that emphasized its unnatural color and staining properties as well as its unearthly drippy ooze-properties was called necessary.

Like every other bad thing, dyed chemical slop sludge now encourages its users to think they are talented, clever and powerful just for liking it. People don’t criticize cheez-whiz for being a science fiction nazi-like horror that goes against everything your intestines stand for, right? They’re just “haters” who can’t handle how unique and epic it is and that you also are for using it, and having simplified the issue like that you thus need not consider trying to see your behavior from another perspective.
It is true that I hate liquid processed cheese product and that this is not a nuanced issue that I have researched at length. However, some things simply deserve to be hated.

The first frozen burrito laboratory-tested and guaranteed to cause post-traumatic stress disorder. Nothing to hate there. I didn’t say I was going to give examples of hatable things! This cheese _flavor is at least non-wet. My disapproval for cheese as colored ooze is enough that I temporarily overlook my disappoval for cheese as colored dust, though not enough that I accept salt-shaker as a funamental factor in nacho creation.

Anyway, which of these bad Barbie Christmas movies should we buy? Be not concerned that you cannot read the labels under this horrible lighting; these covers were not designed for readers.

It is Barbie^TM AS Eden Starling^TM. But you know it is really Barbie^TM playing the part because Barbie^TM‘s charisma and screen presence are unmistakable, and you would know that if you had been watching

The Barbie Channel. Nobody bloops and polls quite like Barbie. The first bloop was likely the sound of Barbie dropping her ^TM into the pool.

Excuse me, that is Turbie. Totally different. Turbie does not get to pretend to be other people on film. Turbie just wears a folded towel out of a plastic bag on her head and pretends this is an astounding innovation. Barbie only shills for new and wonderful things like Barbie.

Do not be confused since they have both been seen on tv; that could just mean Turbie has been arrested on Cops 2.0 or sold into slavery on QVC. Turbie has never been seen on the Barbie Channel. The Barbie studio guards have been ordered to arrest Turbie on sight, and equip her with an iron mask and escort her to the north tower. You will never be king, Turbie! Your ^TM shall be confiscated and offered as turbute to the one true bie on the block.

To get back to the main topic, as a psychologically buried alternate personality of Barbie, Eden Starling’s name is marketable and trademarked, despite being a stand-in for Ebenezer Scrooge who caused much suffering during the prime years of his life and is not somebody whom children should emulate, because unlike Ebenezer Scrooge, Eden Starling is Barbie and pretty and perfect and glamorous and doesn’t have a scary name. Eden Starling knows that it’s what is inside that counts, which is why her cruelty did not “freeze [her] old features” as happened to Scrooge. This film shows that you can turn your life around and be positive so long as you’re rich, young, unblemished and Barbie. I am curious how this handles the section in which Barbie orders a peasant to go out and buy Christmas dinner for her clerk costume designer and childhood friend.

“Do you know whether they’ve sold the prize can of Red Bull that was hanging up there? Not the little can; the big one?”

“What, the one as big as me?” returned the boy girl.

“What a delightful boy girl!” said Scrooge Starling. “It’s a pleasure to talk to him her. Yes, my buck doe! That should suffice to keep all the house hold awake all the day and provide ample liquid material to comprise the bileous humours which shall accompany more solid, less desirable nourishments during the traditional post-meal expulsion”

Barbie’s caloric intake fits in well with Victorian London, I now imagine. This is probably the only Christmas Carol adaptation in which the hardened protagonist could abuse people by encouraging them to take better care of themselves.

According to Barbie Movies Wiki, instead of Jacob Marley, Eden Starling is visited by Aunt Marie, whose cruelty in life was forbidding Eden/Barbie to celebrate Christmas. The ghost of Christmas Present informs Barbie that her coworkers tease her but actually want to be like her. In Christmas yet-to-come, Barbie fires her staff and the replacements “fail to live up to her expectations.” Barbie’s former servant became a famous fashion designer but would not help Barbie due to her past selfishness.
The moral of this story: be nice to Barbie, so Barbie can be nice to other people who will become famous so that they can also be nice to Barbie and not leave her to depend on people who aren’t good enough for Barbie, everyone’s idol. Instead of dying alone and having nobody want to go to her funeral and her belongings plundered, with children left to die from her stinginess, Barbie just loses some money and though she receives no charity her former friend will at least acknowledge her existence. I am fascinated by the idea of an official Mattel “visibly poor” destitute Barbie but I could only turn up parody editions while searching for “poor barbie” and I am certainly not going to watch this thing, although if I had done that instead of writing this I would have been done by now and would have been too heart-warmed to dare analyze it.

Barbie Movies Wiki also inadvertently contradicts the hype on the DVD box proclaiming this as the first Barbie Christmas movie, which was actually Barbie Nutcracker. Maybe Ken had the right idea all along.

Ah good, ^TMothy is back. Yet I wonder: What would happen if Mattel printed the name “barbie” without adding TM afterward? WHAT WOULD HAPPEN? Why does TM NEED to be there EVERY time? We know Barbie is powerful. She can handle it.

No foe has been able to stand up to Barbie since she was bitten by a radioactive box. They try and they fall down laughing.

So cruel, and yet so necessary.

how did this take hours to do?, Not Being Cool, slop, the amazing human digestive system | How could you say such a thing! | !

page 46 of whatever this is.

I used to kill minor characters constantly in my oldest comics, and continued bestowing maladies-apparently-exceeding-injury to sketchbook dwellers, even ones which returned to live again afterward, but at some point I started finding it more depressing than funny. This has not changed.

I tried to keep the ink layer separate from the color layer, because this would allow me to preserve the full alpha qualities of the lines, rather than reducing them to flat black and white. Not only did this not look better, it in fact looks worse, because correcting errors is more of a hassle so I’m less inclined to bother, and what I did do took four times longer than usual, in part due to the various scan blemishes also retaining full fidelity, which I meant I had to constantly be removing them. Ordinarily, all the murky greys turn white and cease to be a factor. But now…

GRIIIIIIIIIME! Hours and hours removing grime! My compulsions are too powerful to allow me to not remove grime. The worse is when it’s on highlights or in the center of the letter O. The shiny part of an object should not have grime on it! Must scrub. This grime I cannot handle.

No! Even this picture of someone scrubbing has grime on it! It’s nothing more than a common griminal! It’s not even a special griminal! It’s the same old grime every time!

I’ve been seeking out grime for so long that now I’m seeing it in places where it does not exist! Single layer, flat-color images that I know factually that I never scanned off of grimy paper through a grimy scanner. My monitor itself is afflicted and now I will always notice it. Or perhaps my own EYES are covered with a wet, slimy substance! ARHHGJKHGJ GET it offffffffffffenbach

Papitas crujientes.

99999999999999999999999999999999999

The time has come to determine the superior soup. Prepare yourself.

The Stop and Shop super-market features two distinct generic store brand soups with the same flavors.

Even the hypey promotional copy on the can posteriors that’s suppossed to make me super excited about eating out of a can is essentially the same, and you’d know that if I’d taken a better picture of it.

So which is better?

Select, the left soup, obviously, for while Homestyle boasts the more appetizing image of actual soup, only Select comes in a GOLD can.

It was my assumption that I had merely acquired generic soup on both ends of a needlessly overdone packaging change; select’s food photography gives the impression of a thing that’s been hanging around since the 1980s; either just from label decay or because it was more feasible to find a depiction of a containers’ actual contents, rather than an idealized color-enhanced mockup, printed on one back then. The reality only becomes clear in the context of the store from which it takes its name:

The two leading / only evident to exist brands of canned soup come in red & gold and blue & grey cans. In its natural habitat a store brand’s survival instinct leads it to disguise itself as best as is legally permissable as a major multinational company’s brand, despite few competent people likely to be fooled by this for long enough to actually make a purchase. In a situation where there is no unquestionably dominant producer of a thing, and that there is no longterm risk in producing an excess amount of, it makes perfect sense to imitate them both. If Stop & Shop sells just as much soup as before, only with sales divided between its two colors, it won’t have been a total waste of effort because they can keep that stuff on the shelves for essentially ever. For as long as it takes for Progresso or Campbell to significantly alter their own label colors and layouts, which probably won’t happen. You might have noticed that the red cans shown are not “Select” but “Chunky,” which is apparently a word that makes people think of things other than vomit. That is because Stop and Shop actually has three identical generic soup brands.

Select is paired with, sure enough, Campbell’s “Select Harvest,” and while that comes in a primarily white, rather than red, container, the somewhat sickly depictions of the regular Select cans’ contents creates a whitish impression at a great enough distance.
I do not intend to criticize stop and shop for its curious multiplicity; I can’t tell the difference between Campbell’s identical soup brands, either. I merely wish these sorts of label shenanigans weren’t necessary to get people to buy less overpriced soup. Some years ago I would never have considered purchasing Stop & Shop anything. But it had really ugly, bland labels then. The sort that make you question the standards of the overall production. The labels are better now. I just don’t like that they’re playing along with the myth that there are three distinct styles of soup being peddled here, each worth being imitated individually.

Mmmm, yes… fascinating…

Oh, I know. Also of great potential interest: I wrote most of this entry while eating about 1/3 of a can of raisins. I had become aware of the 82% sodium rate in a full can of soup, any one of those, and thought I should eat something boring as punishment. No cereal, though; too much iron. I’m worried I’ll be walking past a junkyard, because I got lost in a cartoon from the 80s, and I’ll get stuck to one of those big car magnets. So I ate a lot of raisins. And then I felt diabetic for a bit. It can be hard coming to terms with the fact that eating fruit can make you just as sick as cookies. You might not get as fat, but you’ll feel like you ought to be. So if I’ve conquered dehydrated grapes and passed the test of soup, what, then, remains to be addressed by my can agenda?

GRAPE SOUP.

I hate [the commonly accepted American interpretation of] Thai food.

Well, I do!

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\//\//\\/\/\/\/

March 26: first power tools of the season. Ah yes, spring has truly springed.

/\/\/\/\isthisnecessary?

Aw beans! Page 28 of whatever this is. It does not really solve anything.

I recently reported being astounded by the classiness of a McDonald’s restroom relative to my lowest possible expectations. However, my moderate-to-high opinion did not extend to some of the food items offered.

While I try to be as good an anti-meat advocate as I am capable without appearing hypocritical, and I applaud Big Mick’s support of the cause, I think there are good enough meat substitutes that we need not endanger the lives of America’s origami chicken supply. One could almost think this is intentionally being done to be counter-productive. SABOTAGE!

No, sir, I assure you that I quite intend to pay for that question mark in full.

This is at Denny’s place, but look! Automatic soap with manual-operation sink. Let me tell you, there is no more pleasant sensation than going to wash your hands and grasping a slimy faucet handle. Knowing that it’s “only” soap makes surprisingly little difference. Also observe that the soap dispensers come in pairs, suggesting that you should goop up both hands simultaneously, further reducing the likelihood of getting water without dripping ooze on the control mechanism or touching pre-oozed sludge.

Yet elsewhere: even the hand-drying machines are automatic these days. Because if there’s one natural resource we’re exhausting our supply of and need to take every precaution to preserve, it’s exhaust. Don’t bogart the hot air, man! (let us ignore, for a moment, the electricity required to generate the hot air, because otherwise I have nothing, and in such a context my use of words like “bogart” will seem particularly regrettable). If it turns out these were primarily invented for my convenience, I suggest, as a potential next step in their design upgrades, to have the things actually turn on when I put my hands in the area that the warmed oxygen is intended to come out of.

But I guess it takes a long time to get here from the fortress. What else are you hiding, JAke?

Oh. Well in that case, carry on. Nobody needs to know about this.

I want to go to Spira. Even jail is pretty there. I might be inspired to write proper site updates in a timely manner at such a place.

Page 23 (scroll down, fool) of this. It has occurred to me that this contains the third display of vomiting and the fourth overall vomiting (that I remember) implied to have occurred since this… this thing has been in production. And yet, no other similar gross evacuation has been acknowledged. Now I worry people will think I have a stomach-acid fetish.

the heating system in my eh room broke. Ordinarily, in summer, that wold not be an issue of immediate importance. However, it broke so it’s always on and quite, and it’s right beside my magic computer machine and so my options are limited at the moment.

When you buy a Dora the Explorer fishing rod (yeah, I see you), it must be because you really love cardboard packaging, because that’s about the extent to which your sea-life kidnapping experience can be considered dora-y. You’re not even getting the base superficiality of Flintstones vitamin pills here. Really, that makes about as much sense as

Disney Brand Raisins. How I long for the more innocent, simple times of

Disney Brand Ravioli. Note that this is not a proper, remotely reputable food company licensing characters to appear on its box. This is a company which owns some characters deciding it will use alchemy to convert a useless animation studio into a processing plant ^{[citation needed]} to manufacture food which incorporates vague aspects of their designs. Yeah, we’re not into that whole “nice looking cartoon” thing so much anymore. However, any professional animators made obsolete by some punk who downloaded Flash have the exclusive opportunity to apply for a job taping little circles together. Oink, remember when Disney was afraid so badly to market PG and R rated movies that it made a new company with a different name to handle that? Now it’s not even worried about something in a totally unrelated field of business bearing the name. I mean… Coca Cola won’t even sell Coke brand water without calling it Dasani, and that’s a liquid consumable.

I remember when I thought it was weird that there was more than one Disney cereal, with evidently their own private store section, even with General Mills overseeing production. Fortunately I still do. Also: There are hundreds of changes you could make to have Mickey Mouse be less fundamentally unappealing, but converting it into creepy low-detail heavy gradient 3d was the only thing I’d actually expect to happen. There are less boxes not because people bought them; most likely they just hid.

So maybe you’d like a Superman fishing rod instead.

The classic question: what’s the difference between Superman and Dora fishing rods? The answer: eighty cents. If you said something outrageous like “one dollar, thirty cents,” you must have confused this with the difference between Dora and

Dora. Don’t let it happen again. And how low have the Disney Princesses fallen? First they had to eat cereal for breakfast and now they need to catch their own fish. With little plastic rods.

Indeed.
I guess when traveling through time, space, geography and the unmendable tear in my soul to meet up, none of them thought to bring along any sacks of gold or diamond tiaras or magic non-reverting glass slippers (though it wasn’t quite Terminator style since they’re all still wearing their custom marshmallow flavored dresses), and the point they arrived at refused to offer them any special accommodations. A pity they didn’t think to consult Sailor Moon, who managed to hide the Imperium Silver Crystal in her left eye for 1000 years*. Of course, having Belle, who’s not a princess but in fact just some lady from France, at the front representing them, it’s no surprise the princess’ credentials were doubted. She’s a filthy commoner like Cinder-Ella, and everybody knows it. Convenient marriages need not be a factor; remember this gang also includes The Little Mermaid, who grows legs, ceasing to be a mermaid, long before Belle seals any deals. It must also be noted that she willingly appeared as a non-princess, rather a prisoner, in no less than two sequels in which she still hangs out with The Beast. I feel like I know too much about this.

*Or something like that.

addendum: Well that was some self-indulgent rubbish, wasn’t it! I think my point was that I’m not trying to fool anyone (not anymore, certainly), I just like using different names. Mmmf. Ehhh.

I tried to make a list of all the zany aliases I’ve used on the internet (nevermind why), but then I started fussing over the standard which denotes something as an “alias” and not merely a name I registered for some reason. Obviously, one I made 50 posts with counts, and something which I only used to get at member-exclusive research data (comic torrents) doesn’t, but what about something that left three posts before venturing onward or that I just thoughtlessly typed into some hobo’s weblog for a single comment’s purposes? There were some which I remembered thinking of but couldn’t be certain I had used for anything, and told myself I would have to run searches on them to identify their statuses. And then I started to get sad. And then I had to look up whether “statuses” was a valid plural form, and I’m still not sure that it is. It’s not easy being whoever I am.

The tentastic list, pending revision:

alamince bisquiskis
cupcake oremitz
ears macinstrudel/eels macinstrudel
elfibrax
evil mittens
freepfop frupidor
frimbip frudrulpus
gilgwarfpisc
glufobix
jennifer talia (sigh)
kesglarbix
kuzard kunglegorp
lelelunflurng
lenguid elpmrip
lenswot
molfarm duvalier
oglethorpe marinara delirium
olmec templebury II, thaddeus wilhelm
poncharillo
quilfip unidar earvanbib glinkob
rarlofax
rinslid
roneldo
squong
transfestunerix
ubernerd
umiliphus
volcabbage
yimpinkilp
Only 29? I’m disappointed. I would explain some, but then I’d have to explain all of them, and you don’t need that in your life. I know, I already typed and read it. I have observed that a disproportionate number of the names end in “x.” This doesn’t even include
anabealix, lerix fargeptrix, ottisferasuttix and vristax. Perhaps I sold fake crotch steroids in a past life.

What is important is that none of them at all resemble the name I have to sign documents with. I wish my name was Santiago. Or Agatha. Santiago Agatha Fogerty.

By the beyond, John Fogerty… that guy is so fogerty, I can’t even stand it. He is the most fogerty person I can think of. I do not name this instance of my hypothetical self in honor of him.

Over the years I have seen, plenty more than once, films or television program episodes advertised in which a character dances gleefully to trashy music / embarrassing self-recreation of trashy music while wearing only under-garment type clothing. I am personally of the belief that this does not happen. Or if it does, I doubt that this is with frequency approaching what is suggested to me that it is. I further believe that anyone who would do this would make sure itself was totally alone and lock any adjoining doors and cover any exposed windows. Regardless of whether the person is cornily and/or murderly interrupted, I think it looks stupid and I hate seeing it. Anybody who has personally witnessed or felt the impulse to do this… probably wouldn’t tell me, especially given my negative attitude toward it, so I will continue thinking as I have. …I’m not going to tell you what, if anything, provokes my chemicals, but it’s not underpant/”swimsuit” people and I’m sick of seeing them. I do not need more little triangles of taut rubbery fabrics in my life.

I don’t think fat or skinny or otherwise regarded as “unattractive” by popular media outhouses men dressed the same are instantly hilarious, either. Even if they are additionally wearing socks and sunglasses and singing that “bob bob baran” song.

Oh, and allegedly your dad is better than mine. I thought The Strike was ending. ? I’m still not watching the dumb olympics. I didn’t know they were on, but that’s the only logical reason for those stupid rings to be beneath the national broadcasting company logo at all times. Unless you would have me believe the ill-defined peacock is riding an ill-defined bicycle sideways.

I don’t understand pornography. I know that usually men like looking at pictures of naked women and occasionally women like looking at pictures of naked men. Fine. Ehhh…. but I don’t understand how they also like looking at men and women doing stuff together. Wouldn’t the sight of one of their own kind put them off the mental state they’re trying to create? Must research more (don’t wanna!). But perhaps you’ve guessed that though never wanting to I’ve encountered these pictures on the internet. You might wonder what I was looking for but I hope you don’t.
I also do not understand why anybody would want to see viscous white fluids doing whatever. I, prior to this undesired exposure, had I any concept of what was coming, would have assumed that part of a process to be an unfortunate side effect of the act that people just dealt with because they had to. Yet there it is, in that picture, which somebody drew, which somebody painted, as if somebody wanted to see it. Ew. We needn’t discuss how hair complicates things.

Yes, so, not just photographs, people draw this rabbage. Some people appear to draw nothing else. They can say “look (no!), this is a thing I do to amuse myself and my weird friends. This is not my job. I work on a boat.” Well I’m not criticizing them for that today. I’m just wondering how anyone likes it. Unnnnnnyihhhheah.

Sure, I’ve drawn them, naked people things, but never because I wanted to. I was there in the room to draw life, and at that particular point in time it just happened to be a part of life. I’m glad the models were clean and apparently dry. I wasn’t glad then because the alternative wasn’t making itself relevant and I wasn’t thinking about it.

There’s nothing worse than a self-righteous pervert. I’m not saying my “thing” is half-open soup cans, but if it was, I wouldn’t cover this page with them and act like I think everyone thinks it’s great and I’m doing them a favor. Though I probably would be, because it’s not like we can type a synonym for erotic imagery into google or the yahew and have that come up. We have to work for it. We should unite, pool our resources and findings, but to do that we’d need to “out” ourselves, and oh! the shame we feel.

I don’t get mass e-mail telling me where to get my hot can pix in exchange for simply running password stealing malware. Life is hard. Sometimes it seems like life is the only thing that’s hard. It’s not as hard as it was back when “can” was a popular synonym for human posteriors, however. I almost became a monk. Alas, I could not master spinning on my head in time for our Tonight Show appearance and consequently was not issued a pair of sacred white sneaker shoes. I resigned in disgrace.

And tins never get the job done. You’re probably wondering why I don’t like the Shop Rite Can-Can sale (featuring beets and pork & beans!). I just think it’s tasteless, that’s all. What I do with my cans is my own business and I don’t like to see a spectacle made of it. I’m no ho.

Hey, have you seen those new cans the kids are buying where you just pull the tab, and don’t need a can-opener or anything? What about foreplay? If I wanted to do it like that I’d just buy Spam, where the whole lid comes off at once. Yes, the reason I don’t buy Spam Luncheon Meat is out at last. That’s the real reason I stopped making jokes about it every single day of my life. We just didn’t have fun anymore. The magic was gone.

Eh, bien, hither be the zelda classic page. Some of it works. You don’t even need to read it, I just need to know that it’s here, rather than hidden on my hard drive, where I could presumably spend eternity trying to make a decent product out of something not worthy of great concern either way.

These are special dishes small children are intended to eat out of, because… well, you know how they are.

The dark lord of the Sith is popular with the Dora crowd. The fact that just such a mask assisted a man’s life support for several decades without replacement proves that they are manufactured with sterility and clenliness in mind, so why not eat off of one?

I shouldn’t be surprised. Even the Please Be Offended Rabbit, the biggest fudnuddling scumcylinder in all of merchandising pretends to not be evil to sell more junk.

It occurs to me now that I’ve never seen the actual, regular series Darth Vader eat. He probably has to take all nutrients intravenously. That product up there would depress him greatly, and not even because it simulates eating his face off. But wow, you know, I could really go for some face right now.

Face Total, which even includes ears and eyebrows. Additionally, it’s much easier than eating twenty one bowls of Face corn flakes.

Why does baby clothing have words on it? Babies can’t read! Unless they’re Baby Geniuses. And if they are you should just get rid of them before they become Baby Geniuses 2. Or uh 3.

You’re probably right, person who made a ridiculous, unverifiable claim, never posted before or again and whose avatar doesn’t work.

You’re probably right that it will be well behaved enough to not openly criticize its predecessors. What that has to do with cats being able to fly making you be what your name is I’ve spent enough time looking at your other posts to know not to bother trying to figure out.

But ehhh, why does it matter what babies wear at all? Within a day it will be covered with brown-green slop whatever it is.

This, ingeniously, is already slop green, and additionally simulates having insects crawl all over your en-sloppened bundle of slop.
I wish people wouldn’t dress babies in… dresses. I’ve never once seen one wear something like this without having its diaper clearly visible 70% of the time. They don’t care what they’re wearing, and neither do the parents who rarely incorporate the garment’s style into their baby-carrying plan, and I don’t want to see diapers, so stop it! On the whole, very few of my senses wish to detect diapers.

The path to becoming a gloating male supremacist starts in the womb. That’s probably printed on the back as if it’s a good thing.
Am I reading needless implications into what is simply a joke? Possibly, except it’s a joke you (the imagined buyer) didn’t think of, that you bought at a store, and that you forced upon another human being who can neither comprehend nor opt out of the joke. And you never one time doubted the virtue of your actions. I hate you! As long you’re an imagined buyer I’ll further imagine that my approval is very important to you.

Which brings us to GOLD DIGGER!
Children are never too young to wear derogatory labels for, essentially, prostitutes on their clothing. Or rather, children are never too young for their parent-like-units to prescribe the label for them. Ehhh? Oh. This is for dogs. Yes, I see, what with the rubber bones off at the right and the word DOG not at the right. It’s still stupid. It may even be stupider. Dogs don’t usually wear clothing at all, correcty? Yes. Good. Just so we understand each other. If they did wear clothing, it wouldn’t be because they wanted to convince us what insufferable molbols they are. That rabbit is still naked, right?