It looks like my meeplesworth needs will be satisfied at last. Nevermind that the actual site I was searching at found nothing; all other sites on the internet have more meeplesworth than they can handle.
I do NOT want xxx adult meeplesworth!
Ah! Life, is, gooood.
Now we are really talking the business. I trust the mark of the Two Horny Grannies. They know their meeplesworth.
The meeplesworth saga is a strange one indeed.
What happened is that I once typed “meeplesworth” into a less than reputable search engine because I suspected it was lying when it told me other sites had magnificent, fast, randomly sized downloads of things I never seemed to be able to actually get anywhere despite how incredibly popular they were reported to be. Rather than admit it had nothing, it made up random nonsense, it lied, in an attempt to get me to visit its obviously affiliated useless clone sites where I would never find what I wanted but it could load its own ads forever. That’s what real e-commerce is all about! Tricking people, giving them nothing, and demanding money from them. And now that the central computer thinks people are searching for “meeplesworth,” links to the list of worthless links it made when I typed meeplesworth will also show up forever anytime someone tries to find real meeplesworth. The only things better, after al, than nothing are search results for nothing. Surprise! Your search didn’t actually find what you wanted, just another list of useless search results! And now: ADS.
Do not dismiss this as me whining that I can’t get things for free, and so I deserve whatever pitiful fate may come of that; I have plenty of meeplesworth. I may not get my money’s worth, but I always get my meeplesworth. This is me whining that there are people who get paid to design computers that lie. There are people who get paid to raise expectations which they know can never be met. There are people who get paid to design products that don’t work. They get paid to design ads for products that don’t work. They get paid to run ads for products which don’t work. They get paid to run ads for services which do not exist. They get paid to appear in and tell people to see hundred-million-dollar films they know are horrible, and knew would be horrible. They get paid to lie about stupid microwave popcorn chemicals harrassing people’s lungs. They get paid to fabricate nonsense scientific data justifying ludicrously high energy prices despite a consistent rise in profits. They get paid to say a war which kills thousands and thousands of people and that never ends really isn’t that bad and so might as well not end oh excuse me that’s the democrat presidential race. And who’s paying them? We are paying them! We are paying them to rip us off! We are paying them for the right to pay more! EVERYTHING IS LIES AND MONEY GOING TO PEOPLE WHO LIE! BUSINESSES CAN ONLY STAY IN BUSINESS BY DOING BAD BUSINESS AND THEY GLADLY DO SO! DON’T YOU SEE?! IT’S A CONSPIRACY! THEY’RE OUT TO GET US! READ THE MANIFESTO, MAN! TALK TO CHUCK! COMMENT MY PICS! WATCH MY FEET! CHANGE MY DIAPER! TAKE WHAT YOU WILL BUT DON’T RATTLE ME BONES!
Yes, that is what I was getting at.
Some guy called Saint Zartan showed me a link to these things back in October, some company called “choice shirts” selling various objects of personal adornment I myself would never choose. What follows is much of the message I sent in return, plus some other junk I was hoping to not to find when I went to verify that the link still worked. You know I’m desperate when I’m digging up my old email. I hate dirt.
I also hate the readily available font options in wordpress. I’m pretty sure I have to define everything in styles.css in advance and then I need to upload that and oh the pain. But ehhh,
Not only could I not cash the check, I couldn’t even save the tiny sample picture without dredging through my browser cache. They have the imdib amazon.corn technology which as anyone can see has stopped me from stealing pictures on many occasions. It’s an understandable precaution by the choiceshirts people, however: a real rebel wouldn’t pay for clothing from a website. He’d load up Apple Safari, download a picture, print it out, knit his own shirt and iron-on the design himself. All his friends will be impressed, not just with his home economics skills, but also when they see his pixelated, jaypeg artifact ghost pit-bull behind unreadable words reminiscent of what you see on that thar fancy bank paper.
What does this mean? Bimshwel scientists have deduced that the saloon/circus font on the big yellow ball reads “REBEL FASTPITCH SINCE 1861” but that doesn’t explain a whole lot, nor can I even figure out how the speed at which a low weight round object is propelled through the air may be inherently rebellious. I assume, and that’s all I can do, that the big woids mean any woman who attempts to toss a spheroid in a different fashion, id ehhhst, like a man, is stepping outside her place and by disrespecting men she therefore disrespects Jesus and is probably a lesbian too and Jesus doesn’t like that either. I’m just assuming. You know what Jesus loves, though: slaves country music.
That’s an order. You must love that country music. While I admit I’m personally curious as to what the hat and boots sound like, I’m comforted to know that whatever it is I must love it. Just like Evita. Those are some good songs, yo. Andrew Lloyd Webber, what a master. The kind without slaves, I mean. This is about heritage.
See, what’d I tell you.
Heritage, not hate. Being an ornery aynod whose clothing challenges other people to fights isn’t hate. It’s manning up. I think I just wrote a new shirt.
And then, of course, you follow it up with this. Doot, your heritage is hate. Even if you convince me it wasn’t, it is by now. Uck, at least those evil smirks in Detroit admit what they’re on about and pretend to have evidence which justifies them.
No no no, ignorant fop, you misunderstand completely. Their noble plantating ancestors loved their rightless servants. Trust me, they were very grateful for the luxurious master manors they were able to buy from the hard work they weren’t doing. They only took up the whip because they had to. Now then, would you like to join my cult?
Marco is right. The slave owners were so deluded they thought they were protecting their slaves. They weren’t smart enough to hate their slaves. Their descendents, to their credit, have learned to hate.
You’re saying I should be more offended?
I don’t know who’s a rebel these days, but if there’s a huge company printing asinine slogans and empty threats on clothing and making a disgusting profit selling it to anyone with their own credit card or someone else’s over the internet, and you gladly participate, it isn’t you.
What does this angry texas Skeleton pointing at my left shoulder have to do with God gracing anything? I thought there was nothing less godly than the undead making war on the citizens of earth. If anything, we have been forsaken.
Whip skeletons, not slaves! There is no bigger threat to our glorious union than flying skeletons.
Just this once, I’ll allow you to dissect the irony yourself. And no, I don’t even mean people still upset at the failure of a one-hundred-forty year old movement of armed defiance they haven’t the slightest grasp of the meaning behind complaining about crybabies.
I’m not certain what this says –but don’t worry, I’m pretty sure it’s something to do with rationalizing committing adultery with a poorly drawn horse you put makeup on– I just think the amount of reading required exceeds the maximum amount that is considered rebellious.
All right, very right, men have asserted themselves. What do the ladies think? Hopefully they can stand up for their own rights, maybe add a touch of class to the proceedings and remind us all of the famous Southern Hospitality that
Uhhhhhhhhhhh…
hhhhhhhhhhhhhh……
I’m fascinated by the idea that Southern Mom and Southern Bitch receive the exact same treatment.
I’m hardly surprised, though. Here’s something really special:
If you mess with my wife
I can forgive you.
If you mess with my truck or dogs,
I’ll shoot you!
-COONHUNTER
Seckshual objectification and misogyny/willingness to be objectified and misogyny’ed, mortal violence as adjudicator of minorest grievances, pride in one’s own laziness outside that category, inexplicable love for the scariest dogs and scarierest recording artists…
I can’t help noticing that the least pleasant people, regardless of their race type, have very much in common. Why can’t they get along?
I’ve noticed I write a lot of really long articloids in which I paranoidly expound upon issues which really don’t matter all that much. Which reminds me:
Disciplinary action? Are they going to make him sit in the Time Out chair? Will he have to stand Against the Fence during recess? I have long been of the opinion that Jay Leno’s writers don’t do all that much and the apparent ease with which he gets through the regular monologue without them, to the extent that the people representing the writers have to tell him to stop proves it. I think? The show’s best bit is Headlines, featuring news items, some of them headlines, from various publications and such, and most of them, as I understand it, are sent to the show by viewers. At most, the writers then sift through the things to decide which are funny. But you wouldn’t necessarily need a writer to do that. And all the terrible non-lenoly field segments since Howie Mandel got another job certainly don’t seem written and might as well not be. If this particular class of Leno writers out protesting means no more of those, then great. The remainder of “desk pieces” and sketch-like-presentations tend to only seem funny when a prop doesn’t function properly and Jay Leno has to cover for it. For years they would have, for who-knows-why, Gilbert Gottfried portray characters that were only funny when Jay went off the script to criticize them for forgetting the script.
KFC explains the writer’s strike. I present it in full not because I feel like addressing it in full (so don’t feel compelled to read those tiny letters) but just because I don’t want to look like I fear kfc’s 11 herbs and spices of persuasion.
So already we know we’re dealing with a masochist.
I don’t know much about the writer guild strike, because I’m not in it and don’t belong to any union, though I did follow one or two Yahoo clubs for about a week back in the day. But I know enough to see that it’s mostly valid and at any rate I could always stand to watch less dumb tv shows. All I know about KFC, who evidently has made no other post on any news article at whatever site this was, is the name KFC, which I confess I don’t necessarily associate with the task at hand. In fact, there are few situations in which I would be most inclined to agree with someone named kfc. I don’t know. On this particular occasion, I tend not to think of “kfc” and “reasonable attitude towards worker pay-rates and general well being” in the same paragraphs. Even less so if chickens count as employees.
Which is not to say this kfc doesn’t have any points, just that it’s unlikely. I don’t trust this a great deal more than I trust the person who signed up at the imdib just to give Who’s Your Caddy? a ten star rating. But maybe KFC so simply thought “I have been silent long enough. Now is the time for KFC’s feelings to be known. My recipe shall remain secret.” While KFC doesn’t seem dangerously crazy regarding this whole thing, it’s that bit about writers knowing “their place” which puts me off. Not just the phrasing and choice of words, either, though that historically has brought to my mind the thought of fat bearded oafs smacking their wives around for not fixing mah dinner. Or more recently, if a couple years past relevance, Dwayne “Rocky Melvin” Johnson ordering a coworker to “shut your mouth and know your role, jabroni” which I suppose is an improvement but still inappropriate workplace behavior in most other professions. Ooh, oh, h, also, stating advance predisposition toward the “I’ll give you something to complain about” approach to resolving disputes, which haven’t even been brought up yet, is worth monitoring. I reckon kfc is used to monitoring people so my apprehension shouldn’t be a problem.
But ehhh! You can’t just lead in some new yarbos to write all the tv shows, yarbos who don’t necessarily know what the program’s goal is or have a decent relationship with the actors. If it got that far, you would only have a new show that pretends it’s an old one. It would be like Kevin on the telephone in Home Alone 2. Credit card? Nooo problem! Every day. We’ve seen, surely, what happens to movies when important people aren’t involved with sequels and such. I mean, look what they did to the once splendid Air Bud franchise. I believe a dog can play basketball on a competitive level but baseball? Puhleeze. That kind of movie should be illegal and then I can call the pahleece.
I could have used you about fifteen seconds ago! Try and keep up!
And why we don’t get legions of non-guild writers devising a legion of non-guild sit-coms is a more complicated matter than I’m capable of going into at the moment, but I’m sure it would be slightly worse than the current situation. Not for the financiers; KFC is right that enough patrons probably don’t care sufficiently about writer justice leagues or whatever to not watch a program out of protest of a network or production company or intelligence insulting grits ‘n gristle. But they should!
Many employers will take the opportunity to be abusive, even if KFC might not, but it wouldn’t surprise me. Workers need some sort of collective power so we don’t get mafia-like organizations, to an even greater extent than they already are, firing people for arbitrary reasons and sending children into coal mines and all that sort of thing.
I can understand disagreeing with the strike, but unions in general are good things. KFC also seems to have disregarded the existence of a Screen Actors Guild, which has just as much potential to strike and would be even more obvious and obnoxious in doing so.
What KFC doesn’t understand is that it’s not about writers wanting more money. The strike is about writers wanting any money at all for the redistribution of their material in media not mentioned in their previous contracts. There’s also some stuff to do with cartoon writing and “””reality””” writing, as those writers are not involved with this strike. While I don’t know why this means Jay Leno risks a spanking and a harsh talking to for writing his own monologodonahue, I think it’s worth letting happen. I suppose.
Jay Leno doesn’t have Conan O’Funyun’s advantage of being able to act like a skeleton and dance around for 20 minutes should the need arise. The Daily Colbert have done surprisingly well, to me, without scripts, but a lot of what they do involves watching stupid moments from MSNBC and having approximately the same/opposite reaction as the audience. Deciding which clips are funny and queuing them up to play in a certain order at certain points evidently does not constitute “scripting.” And good. I like those shows. But oooh, Jay Leno can’t scribble out some jokes, some of which he’s been telling for over ten years? Eh, as far as I know he hasn’t stopped. Well, we read that story a week ago, maybe the threat was rescinded. Well don’t we owe it to our reader to verify-
Keep quiet and let me finish this!
I do hate some of those pedantic union rules, like how I’m not allowed to move this table here. No, we have to call someone to come in and move it for us. You don’t get paid on a commission, do you? I’m not trying to steal your job! I’m trying to move a table! If I tear my scottbaculoids from overexertion because I tried to move the table, it’s not like I can sue you for owning the table, because you already told me not to move it! Oh. I see. That works. Well, maybe Ron Paul can fix that. It might surprise you to know that there are just as many people writing this page as before.