I have just realized that I totally neglected to write hidden mouse-over messages for a bunch of these. I have tended to that, then, now.

——————————

Mr. Peanut, our nation’s oldest and most affluent legume, seems to have quite a following on E-Bay. Or perhaps a desertion, considering that everybody who posts a picture of one is hoping to be rid of it. The conspicuous scarf suggests that Mr. Peanut has a cold. Perhaps other ailments if he needs a cane to sit down. And you think I want a sick peanut in MY home?

In fact, when I get an apartment again I am going to buy all of these off of ebay and then put them in every piece of furniture that I can acquire. In the event I convince anybody to visit me the visitors will have to stand.

The enormous absurd object on the left is apparently only $8, not including shipping. Including shipping it comes to about $38! The one beside it costs about $19, with its shipping price reduced to around the same area. Other variants of it have totals that come out to a similar amount or more. I expect that the postal service requires premium packaging for anybody who wears a top hat and monocle. I would further suggest that instead of a truck they use a horse-drawn stagecoach.

Even if no delegates from my family ever stop by, Mr. Peanut’s will not let me down. I perhaps ought to have kept a spot free for myself to be let down into, though.

I think Mr. Peanut is drunk. From the listing: “He is missing his hat. He must have left it at the last party.” Mr Peanut is very irresponsible! And in front of the children, too.

Alright, we are very impressed at your flexibility, but that is quite enough, Mr. Peanut.

Oh, what a tease. Mr. Peanut will be on the cover of every fashion magazine if he keeps this up. But seriously, enough kidding around. I am beginning to worry about you.

When is the last time you shaved, Mr. Peanut? Did you go into work today? Are you feeling alright?

I do not particularly like these new friends you are hanging around with, Mr. Peanut. You were always a healthy peanut. A little salty sometimes, perhaps, but generally responsible. That fellow next to you, he claims to be a king in his country, I think he is nothing more than a dirty supplier for folks like that other pal of yours. Look at him, he’s never worked a day in his life. How do you think he is supporting his habit? Probably sponging off you, I’ll bet. Oh he’s just “borrowing” from you? I’m sure. Everybody’s your “friend” when you’re rich, peanut. And what about those five guys I saw you with yesterday? Do you have any idea what they fry their potatoes in? What? No, I didn’t say- that’s not what I said! Would you listen for once? I just think you should exercise more discretion! Yes I know you’re all grown up and can do what you like but I can still worry about you, can’t I? You wouldn’t need “emotional support” from thugs like that if you looked after yourself better. Look at you, in such a sad state you put your monocle over the wrong eye. You were probably stumbling around all day, too out of your wits to wonder why you kept bumping into things. Or maybe one of those hoodlums dared you to do it? What else have they been goading you into doing? Answer me, Peanut. Answer me!

But would you please- Alright, I shouldn’t have yelled. Please calm down. Don’t make a scene here. Why don’t you go to bed?

Oh Mr. Peanut, what are you doing now? Don’t you know that is dangerous? Please just go home and get some rest!

Alas, fame and fortune were too much, too soon for Mr. Peanut. I should have seen the warning signs. He will be potentially missed, and likely mixed.

Talks are underway to have him replaced with Drew Carey. I had heard Mr. Carey was losing weight but I figured he had enough money that it was unrelated to career-advancement.

What? What is THIS?

ENERGY! BEWARE, I LIVE!
What? It can’t be! You were dead!

MUST REPLENISH MY STRENGTH!

What have I done? Even the police are helpless to stop this vengeful reign of terror. It doesn’t have to be this way, Mr. Peanut! We can get you help!

THESE ARE MY DEMANDS: ALL BOW TO PEANUT!
You don’t know what you’re saying! It’s me you want! Don’t make the innocent suffer!

POWER! MORE POWER! MY REALM GROWS! MY ANCIENT RIGHT TO RULE THE LAND WILL SOON BE RESTORED TO ME.

Hopefully not to be continued

Not Being Cool | How to lose a guy in (6) days | !

I should consider proofreading this.

I have considered it.

I saw the recentest Muppet sequel a week ago, and wrote this a week ago, but goopness grapeness I am surprised I posted it within a month.
It was pleasantly pleasant, considering the unprecedented degree to which the pre-show adutainment made me feel irrelevant and despised by the world.
Considering that the film is dedicated to Jerry Nelson (Jane Henson also) and there is a song about numbers sung by someone with a vaguely eastern european accent, I was again disappointed to not see my favorite muppet The Count, but again it would not have made sense for The Count to be visible. in fact the vocal was provided by Matt Vogel who currently operates and voices The Count.

As I said following that piece, I thought the previous film was well-done overall and not what the poster implied it was going to be, though definitely there was too much time devoted to people who were not muppets. Walter, the non-muppet who looks like a muppet is still in this one, and still probably more important than necessary, but the story calls for a muppet that does not have a serious psychological malfunction (meaning: a muppet which does not exist to be funny) to sense that something has gone wrong and the orange one with glasses is not important enough that I am bothered when someone tries to take his job, and he is still in this movie a lot so maybe there is room for two muppets that are funny looking but somewhat boring. A good thing about being a muppet is that even with a subdued temperament you still have no choice but to be ridiculous in appearance.
The human non-muppets from the previous film are not in this one at all. There were other humans that I was supposed to recognize; “cameos.” I did not know half of them, but there were enough that I could pick out a few. And even if I couldn’t, since they are just cameos they do not matter.
This movie is not zooming in on Lady Gogga or Dylan “Hornswoggle” Postl and saying “If you have avoided this person’s antics the last four years you are not allowed to relate to anything in this production.”

In fact I ought to have recognized Hornswoggle, the World Wrestling Ederfation’s primary leprechaun during the period when I was really getting tired of the WWE, in part due to excessive, terrible use of characters like Hornswoggle, who started as a silly unannounced, unnamed performer who assisted an Irish wrestler, then inexplicably became a top promoted figure meant to be taken seriously despite him being a leprechaun whose matches could only end in fluke, joke wins that made his opponents look dumb or discomforting losses when his opponents were actually allowed to catch and do, you know, wrestling moves on him. But usually wrestlers play wrestlers in their cameos. Being a leprechaun probably alters that setup somewhat.

And it is certainly possible to be annoyed by Richard Gervais, but he is still second to a muppet. The muppet even tells him that. I like that a comedic actor who knows the importance of being second to a muppet was cast in the part and not just someone pretty or marketable, or statistcally funny due to having appeared on comedy-labeled programs that were not abruptly cancelled. So I cannot fathom how this movie belongs with the ones whose previews it bears.

As occurred when I viewed Doy Story 3, before the film started I considered the sort of trash that would comprise the previews, and this time made a checklist of bad kid-directed-at standbys as a way of pre-emptively working off the usual rage those fill me with. I could not actually check the list since the room was too dark by that point and I mostly wrote them on the same lines, and continued writing them after I was supposed to be watching for them, because I found hypothetical complaining more satisfying than raising my awareness of things I might wish to complain about. But just listening, Rio 2 had most of them. I was not conscious of a first Rio but yeppirroo there is a second. Three of the five previews were for sequels and only one of the five was not computer animated, and that one had a computer animated character in it, and prominently features kids playing with fancy telephone doohickeys anyway. Not that kids don’t do that, but I do not want to watch them do that. But the movie is not for me. Why was it advertised before one that was?

“Unfortunately” there was no new re-make/-boot series that I was supposed to be surprised and impressed by somebody trying to cash in with by making it 3d, ugly and cynical. Can you believe it, there has never been a 90 minute feature film about Chester Cheetah finding that portal to New York City that Underdog, the Smurfs and the marauding 3d talking animal gang that wasn’t from Madagascar used. Maybe we’re about due for a Harry and the Hendersons reboot. The choices are defendless. And oh, nobody has tried to make a live action/computery Pink Panther yet, but maybe there are copyright issues due to the recent-enough Stever Martin non-animal Pink Panther remake. If it had been Mike Myers he would have done them both at the same time and maybe not even with a scottish accent.

In addition to the previews, there was a Monsters University-themed short subject presentation from the Pixar company that included any tackiness that Rio 2’s preview ran out of time to show it also has. I did not see Monsters Ooniversity, but according to evidence presented here, the idea here is that there are normal dumb 1980s college movie kids who like to get drunk and have heterosexual relationships with rigid, binary-gendered companions while listening to indescernible noise and never actually do classwork or have any difficulty finding a niche that accepts them. Except… they look kinda funny! And something about closets because monsters right? According to media dating to even earlier than this concept of college, children believe that monsters live in closets and under beds. I realize that is Pixar’s thing, to put all its effort into a quirky but ultimately tertiary visual element and then be as generic as possible with everything else, and I still dislike it. Especially when it parasites itself unannounced onto another film that I am drawn to specifically because it is the single “general” audience film likely to be receive wide release this year that isn’t trying to load up on pixar’s success being flashy and typical.

And apparently the industry leaders in computer animation still can’t render a remotely appetizing cartoon pizza. Or maybe they risk alienating their core audience of people who eat terrible pizza by showing one that looks like it would taste good. In fact, Domino’s, the worst pizza in the nation became, likewise, an industry leader by delivering to college campuses at a time when other bad pizza companies would not. If you have tried a Domino’s pizza recently and thought it was bad, it was by all accounts worse in the 1970s. If you thought it was good, then it was probably even worse in the 70s! It has been my experience that a good pizza restaurant still will not deliver its product. The orange circle with red circles seen here could be a subtle commentary on that, but since nothing here is subtle that would be impossible.

Sure these are outdated college stereotypes, but what about the outdated Eastern European stereotypes that factored heavily into the main muppety film that I claim to have appreciated? Maybe there are Baltic immigrants who feel insulted that put-on accents, backward Rs and the insinuation that there is a unrelenting year-long blizzard on their entire sub-continent have gone unquestioned and unopposed for too long. Maybe they wonder “why are Americans laughing at the legitimate cruelty and injustice carried out in the Russian legal system? Are they unaware that the US also has secret prisons? Oh they know and just don’t care.” Surely that is possible, but in this case it was not the main characters engaging in that, and the film could still work if that was excised, and the setting changed or the accents not so fake. Like the cameos, that stuff is not crucial to appreciating the film. And this that I am writing is about what annoys me personally, not whose annoyedances are most valid.

By the time the actual feature film- I realize that for something to be featured, something secondary is necessary, but that terminology is also outdated… By the time the actual feature film started I was worn out and miserable and in no mood to enjoy anything. My moods go bad quite easily and often take some time to go good again. I am glad the muppets could overcome that.
Maybe the previews are at the discretion of the distributor, to whom it makes financial sense to ignore the feature’s content beyond whether the ehhhf word is spoken aloud, but the Disney ownerlords ought to have watched this movie and realized “oh gee nobody has getting drunk and attending parties as an ultimate life priority in this movie.”

Monster University, the full length version I am expected to have seen already, entered wide-release last July, when I was in Paris, so thankfully I missed the biggest hype period for that.

Unfortunately, Monstres Academy also opened around the same time. I wrote about it but did not post it because I was too busy doing things dumber and time-wastier than formatting that for display here. I hope to have no other excuse to refer to this matter, so I do it now.

I had seen the title on various unrelated supermarket products prior to then, and been not at all optimistic about another acquiescing pseudo-academic tropefest with advance merchandising deals, but at least was unaware of the ugly character designs until they were taped to every subway tunnel in a city that I would be required to walk through for the next four weeks. Maybe they are “supposed” to be ugly, being “monsters,” but I do not find them ugly in an enjoyable way, apart from a purple lizard thing with glasses that is not worth braving the full crowd for. It was not important enough to be in the barnacle attached to the Muppet sequel, at least. Particularly I dislike that this one character is covered with fur and lacks pants but has a mustache (that one does briefly appear in the barnacle). By my understanding, the lack of trousers works when something is “cute” in a very narrow range of ways. On the body of a chubby middle-aged man-oid with facial hair it is unsettling. There is another creature, nearer the front here, and thankfully blurry, that has a multitude of white cartoon eyes in excess of 2, arranged in a fashion that does not seem evolutionarily sound. Also without trousers and also too grotesque to be cute. Three is about my limit for mammalian eyes in a single vicinity, and they need to be more orderly and practical than that. The effect of just tossing a bunch onto a surface bothers me. It bothers me so much that I am done talking about it.

And I don’t accept for T seconds Billy Crystal yelling about how excited he is to be a college student, because he’s probably about 65 by now. Older people have gone to college but if they yell about it they aren’t filmed.

He is excited just to be a student of a college in general. A college from a stereotype-loaded revenge of the nerds type college, where actually going to classes comprises 1% of the activity and everything else is partying, clubs and sports. Everybody wants a jacket that expresses affiliation with some group. Somebody who has no or wants no involvement with those does not exist. I don’t mean that the person -might as well- not exist, but that script writers can’t fathom of somebody who doesn’t fit into those niches living on the planet. Or even living on an imaginary planet that is supposed to be warped and strange and people who get reblogged at me on twitter will praise for having the message that being warped and strange is A-OK (guys).

Anyway the main character looks too much like Plague, the torso-less [single] eyeball monster that Counts at anybody who attempts to retrieve the White lance in Final Fantasy II IV, which only further emphasizes the lack of Count in the film I came to see. And its name is “Mike.” HAW HEE it is a MONSTER but with a normal man’s name! Great idea and now it’s been named Mike for six years.

It was not the worst looking american film I saw promotion for in Paris, but it seemed the most likely to be approved of by other people, due to being bad in a more socially acceptable fashion, which makes it considerably less pleasant for me. A bad, hated movie will go away. I am not going to see fanart for Google product placement movie, and though the smurfs are certain to return, there is no secret prohibition on protesting them. A bad, beloved movie will come back again and again. As this one did.

I do not accept the excuse that this film is making fun of stereotypes and therefore may freely benefit from them (For one thing, nobody has made the claim that it does anything but benefit from them).
These are supposed to be otherworldly beings that frighten humans but they have rigid binary genders totally analogous to our own. Muppets are strictly male and female too, but I find them entertaining and am less inspired to dissect them for griping purposes, and these aren’t in corny movie college anyhow. I think it is fairly public knowledge that my least favorite cartoon as a child was Muppet Babies, a truly unnecessary effort to dumb muppets down into something consumable by children, even though we already have Sesame Street, which does quite fine with real muppets, so I hardly think I am pulling a dumble-standard here. Monsters [and muppets] are important to me and I dislike these monsters, and that is just the way it goes.

I have read descriptions of theoretically clever things that have happened on muppet babies, but I cannot get past the theme song. I think that part is crucial.

Of course it is a fantasy written by humans and not meant to be thought about very hard, but why NOT make a movie that needs to be thought about? And yes I complained about there being an unusual number of eyes on one or more characters, showing my own silly adherence to routine, but I did not see any evidence that having more than 2 had any effect on the creature’s perceptive capabilities. It is all for show. Everybody still talks through its mouth and sounds like a promoted, non-cameo celebrity.
From a financial standpoint, it makes sense to pander directly to your buying audience of normal people. There really is no good reason for a company to make a movie that does not bother me. And I cannot claim that I require school/gender stereotype trigger warnings or that this sort of material should cease to exist, because I am the only person who has this problem, and at worst it makes me uncomfortable and inclined to spend hours organizing my complaints. And so I shall continue to complain to facilitate me no longer thinking about it.

That is all for today, folks.

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! | !

I am thinking only of your best interests, bimshwel. Why will you not do the same for me?

——————————————-

How am i supposed to succeed in a world where 30 million people would look at this once willingly, or even slightly fewer millions than that more than once?
I don’t know what this video is; the content is beside the point. The point is that I never make it to the content because I don’t want to click on it. The content does not matter, unless multi-million people said to each other “hey watch this video; I swear it is good despite the unsightly punchable shouting scruffbag in the preview.” I did not have a person show it to me, just a lifeless robot that knows nothing of my interests but thinks it does just because it tracks the imaginary things that my mouse point touches.

The fashionably sad “goths” of the 1990s and the marketably sad “emos” they begot for the 2000s have somehow led to a giggly, artifically happy and positive yet somehow consistently vulgar, ostensibly progressive but subtly traditional-gender-role-reinforcing* “cuteness” that would make me vomit if I had a functioning gag reflex.

*I think I was referring to the tendency for those born male to disregard tradition-mandated ideas of what sort of activities and entertainment they should like but still maintain horrible facial hair. They don’t grow full beards but they keep the hair short so it seems more like dirt than something that had a biological function at one point. I can’t get over that they are alright with being men but won’t take advantage of the opportunity to have great wizardly beards. This may be a more irrational gripe than usual. I will let you know if I remember that I meant something else.

But it is worse than goths because it isn’t a subculture and there is nothing conspicuously, obliviously weird enough about it to laugh at. It is too common to not be normal. There is no bizarre wardrobe to go with it. Their fashion is notable for its lack of notability. They wear jeans pants and ugly t-shirts and draw pictures of themselves wearing that and using the internet and drawing pictures of themselves posting pictures of themselves on the internet. They thrive on being totally average, and they thrive on celebrating that they thrive on that.

Do you think I thrive on not liking that? I do not! I want to stop being aware of these things. I know I will never like them. They come looking for me. Because they are proud of themselves and have no self-regulatory functions they are highly likely to shove their existence into everyone else’s and dismiss anyone who criticizes their behavior as a “hater.” They’ve had Barney and Dora and Elmo telling them that they are special and unique and important since before they had any opportunity or means to do anything special, unique or important, so they believe that and will not believe otherwise, and they don’t have to because everyone else they know has had the exact same experience and they relate to each others’ unconditional enthusiasm. It is easy to enjoy life when you enjoy mediocrity. I should wish that I did, but I have had something better and was spoiled by it, and it left me behind. Satisfaction demands that I work for it, and then it laughs at me and goes drinking/clubbing/boring with mediocrity anyway.
I left this behind for two months, not wanting to post in a bad mood, and when I came back to it all i could think was how much I wanted to slap/shave this guy. Then I left it for two more months because I was busy with unsatisfying things but somehow it was still here waiting and taunting me. I am more mad now than then!

This is what happens when “geeks” become “cool.” Everything that’s totally uninteresting and not cool in the slightest amount is potentially “awesome” or “epic.”
What were the old biggest geek stereotypes? They lived with their parents, they didn’t clean themselves, and they had difficulty procreating. Well when everybody is a geek the third one solves itself, but the other two, essentially, acting like children, just get worse.
It probably is not fair to pick on this one fellow because he is probably singing and that’s just a face people make when they are singing, I suppose. Unless you are an anime character with a naturally triangle-shaped mouth, mid-song is the only time when that face should show up. But then the oaf might be yelling “AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GUYS fuck.” And if he is singing, I still don’t want to look. I don’t want to look at anyone’s vain contextless head inside a room made out of communion wafers just emitting noise, but least of all this one’s. I hate that! You know I hate that! If everything I have said is a total exaggeration, the basic, initial fact remains that I do not want to look at this.

he looks like those stupid advice aliens from the space ship levels of The Lost Vikings.

He looks like Duke from Paladin’s Quest.

He looks like Tina Fey from this weird package of yogurt. What did the photography director say to Tina Fey? “Open your mouth like you are eating the yogurt whose label you are appearing on while trying to look at your own ear.”

This then reminds me of ronald mcdonald ecstatic to be drowning in apples and abandoned and dirty.

He looks like a model for Campbell’s Bag of Douchebag™ soup brand.

That guy back there, he looks like the only opportunity to use an uppercut against Don Flamenco. He looks like Timothy Speed Levitch. He looks like one of those people who every couple of years tries to get me to watch the pilot for “a kitty bobo” on youtube and laments that it was never made into a full series. He looks like someone who knows what dresden kodak is. He looks like someone who acted sad when Billy Mays got dead. He looks like somebody who would be in an “updated” revival of Rent.

I cannot compete with this because I do not understand it. I am going to dig a hole. I am finally going to start living under a rock as hacky writers across all disciplines who think their own self-focused niche is the toast of all towns have insisted I have been doing for the past 20 years anyway.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock to see that I am not there you probably assume I have been living under a rock.

Not Being Cool | How to lose a guy in (6) days | !

What a dork of a gargoyle! With buck teeth, at that; you fool! That is less than three quarters of a euro! You can’t buy anything with that!
Gargoyle trouble is nothing new around here, alas. And the news only gets worse.

I was told the Paris trip would “change [my] life” but nothing could have prepared me to learn such ancient secrets. There is so much unknown knowledge in the world. But I must look and acknowledge.



And maybe I want him wear a wizard hat and big silly earmuffs but I imagine I won’t get mentioned on the heffalump post for saying so. I like to imagine the blue lumps in the lower corners are this person’s hands in boxing gloves.
I will not watch this oaf’s head and his closet and his cans of cooking spray and his television screen with bottles in front of it. I do not take obvious advice from somebody in such a hurry to video record his mouth any time words come out of it that he is oblivious to his own surroundings. My own room is a mess but if I were putting pictures of it on the internet I would know my room was a mess prior to somebody else seeing these pictures. I certainly do not take orders to receive advice from sources with really crummy taste in advice.

Then I don’t give a fuh hyphen hyphen kuh what she thinks. How about that! Or is that the whole point? I don’t know because the thoughts of others no longer matter to me! We can just scowl at each for eternity, would you prefer that? Don’t bother answering!

Aren’t rappers typically characterized by being vulgar and not caring what anyone thinks? how is this special? saying a rapper uses harsh language and minimally regards the views of others is like saying an anthropomorphous video game animal runs fast and has a bad attitude.

and shouldn’t “Socially Conscious” include giving a hump what people think? We need social consciousness to protect ourselves from people who don’t give flocks of consideration to what we think. How can you be conscious and willfully oblivious simultaneously? Am I supposed to be glad and want to support the career of this person who wants me to know that she thinks my perception is worthless?

To be fair, during the previous occasion in which I lost my mind over a stupid huffington puffington ost headline, it turned out to be a ruse just to get people to click on the thing, and the entire article an empty circle that only existed to support a provocative headline. I will not be the person to determine how this situation has been misrepresented to DARE me into looking at it because in the end I don’t enjoy having people yell at me angrily regardless of the beat behind it.

I am not going to support this click economy anymore. If the only way to make me look at something is to imply that I am inadequate, so that I must investigate, so to sort out the details and convince myself of my adequacy or become adequate through acquiring the knowledge, then I will simply not look. I do not know this writer and this writer does not know me. The headline writer cannot even decide on the most effective way to not type out the ehhhhhf word but still get internet edginess credit for implying that they said it (I find that works well). The acidic individual may well give consonants and punctuation marks what I think if we met but I know that we have not. I wrote up something specifically on the topic, we will see if I get to it.

is there no fu&#99;k trigger? Or do you tell people who ask for one that they are exaggerating the state of their psychological condition for attention and sympathy?

Why exuberantly celebrate this anyhow? are you glad that you need trigger warnings? A more appropriate title would be “oh trigger warnings. I must resignedly admit that these are preferable to being triggered.”

No, I am offended, or perhaps disgusted by the hyperbolic, always in love or always in hate attitude. Why sit on the ground nude in cold darkened grottoes if it puts you in a mood like this? Maybe I am just concerned.

My gripe is specifically with the gerund ing form, used so ubiquitously that it lost most meaning. It was meant to add emphasis, but since it never was not present, it only emphasized a lack of self-control or self-awareness. A desire to be unpleasant toward anybody who is not totally in on your babyish self-indulgence.

I think you just need to calm down.

Click here for the shocking exposé

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And without switching websites:

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

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

Another quote:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nobody even wonders if Pokemon are gay anymore.

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

Boh fiddlesticks.

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

Hello, Jack Nicholson is dead, according to context clues given off by this ironically named publication. I wonder if his unnaturally street caricature-like swollen head was a factor in his demise. Maybe an airplane crashed into it or a triceratops hatched out of it.
Additionally, I am so off my contemporary culture that I had to check first to make sure Jack Nicholson was not dead before posting this.

Another large-headed matter I had valid reason to check up on recently:

Tommy Lasorda, best known for his endorsement of the perennial Toys R Us video game-cover pegboard space-filler Bill Clinton Baseball on the Sega Genesis now looks like

the president who succeeded Clinton, Dick Cheney.

Also, when I was in Colorado (a geographical region to the west of where I presently reside), every man over a certain age looked like Dick Cheney. I believe one of them overheard me remark on this, and while he appeared to frown in my direction, he did not have me executed because he does not have enough shame to realize that me comparing him to himself is meant to be derogatory.

That is an odd way to end, so here instead is a corny guy listening to corn.

He looks like the protagonist from another Sega Genesis release, Flashback. I am also reminded of the time I loaned my flash to somebody, for at some point I needed to get my flash back. Additionally, public nudity enthusiasts never expect you to flash back.

I will call him Cornrad.

However, corn is not rad (though it may be radioactive).

Not Being Cool | How to lose a guy in (5) days | !

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was in France. Now I am not. It is rather difficult to sum up in a way that would be entertaining or relevant to bimshwel, and certainly not both. Here then is something that I wrote before I left.

Fish with sunglasses or a mustache. I suppose this isn’t something I “wrote” so much as “deemed adequately strange as to be consistent with past site content.”

this is a real movie? I would have thought that was a lonely island sketch but the corny white guy isn’t wearing sunglasses.
We bought a ZOO y’all! We’ve got ANIMALS and stuff! We’re acting really HARD CORE about RANDOM MUNDANE THINGS and this will NEVER GET OLD!

I’m a BIMSHWEL entry y’all! I’m really BITTER about my lack of gimmicky popularity so I find REASONS to complain about anyone who HAS it!

and donald duck is officially as classy as a beer advertisement.

Hence the proud strut in this related scene, I suppose. In fact only one of them seems at all uncomfortable about appearing here…

But I guess he got over it because he seems to have tossed off his clothes and is presumably running around naked somewhere near.
Oh that’s “cafe mickey,” apparently, at the free entry section of Parcs Disneyland where I met Titash from the internet. I didn’t actually eat in that place or have time to go inside and so didn’t consider what sort of business endeavor decorates itself with discarded garments. In search of food I would never enter such a place. I prefer the food to be naked, certainly, but I doubt badly drawn anthropomorph mice are on the menu, which means they are probably doing the serving and I do not desire service from them.

Nor did I eat at the Hunter’s Lodge all [I] can eat Bambi Buffet. I think the culinary-conscious French took the wrong message from that film. Maybe Disneyland Paris also has a petting zoo where visitors are encouraged to jeer at baby elephants while feeding them liquor.




No, I ate at Earl of Sandwich USA (since 1762 since 2004). Even though it was in France and named after somebody English.
This object buzzes when your sandwich is ready to be retrieved. That is all it does. Logically it should be about the size and weight of a hockey puck. It is not a drink coaster. It must be returned when the sandwich is fetched and the table is made of grey metal that would not be sensitive to minor liquid abrasion anyway.

I had thought “gosh what an uncreative gimmick for a restaurant” but evidently the place was indeed started by the present Earl of Sandwich. Also the inventor of Planet Hollywood, whose name is Earl (I cannot guarantee that he has a mustache). So you see it makes perfect sense. Earl probably got drunk one day and proclaimed “hey wouldn’t it be neat if the actual earl of sandwich had a sandwich joint? Hey I’m a millionaire! I can call him up!” And then the fellow went along with it, even though as a direct descendent he ought to know that his ancestor merely popularized the existent but nameless “bread and meat” of the lower class by consuming it in the presence of other nobles, and that putting a birth date on it or implying that this 9-year-old snack shack chain employs precious family recipes is absurd.

And yet the sandwiches are wrapped in SOLID GOLD, so there must be something special about them.

How about that. I said I didn’t have time to talk about France and I did anyway. Perhaps this can work.

Or perhaps it is through working.

Not Being Cool | How to lose a guy in (3) days | !

Ah I expect to post something saturday. I just need to proofread it 30 more times.

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

the worst should be over after today, but that does not mean it will obey.

————————————————————

Simplify cheese balls! they are too challenging! look, that other jar cannot handle it at all and has succumbed to the pressure. How many more balls must suffer before they start fighting back?

Don’t be fooled. These are not adversaries. They are definitely teaming up to hurt us. Who can we enlist to defeat them?

A weirdo wearing stupid boots that fingers a flute and some useless bird that also appears to be wearing boots despite birds not having plantigrade feet that does nothing but stand there and blow on the flute. Pretty awful! Add to that a totally useless cat thing with NO NOSE that pings on a triangle while it brags about how great it thinks its useless skill is and I will have to send you to jail because that is unforgivably wretched.
THAT CAT. It has as much musical ability as it has nasal function. This foolish beings thinks it has great proficiency in existence but obviously it did not put that triangle there, since its forelimbs are used to keep it upright and appear devoid of any means for grapsing. Either somebody else attached the triangle or this absurd animal naturally has a thing protruding from its head with a triangle dangling off of it, which is even stupider. But is it stupid enough?

Hey hey! Exercise some decorum! This isn’t tumblr! Do not impugn the classy and intellectual way of ballz with a z.

I guess this sort of thing brings out the passion in people, who can blame them for using coarse language?

Epilogue: I decided this was better than posting nothing for another week. My judgment has been rather impaired lately.

A good sign, yes? Unfortunately, I did that a long time ago!

Ah I can feel my old powers returning.

Not Being Cool | How to lose a guy in (2) days | !

A few times ago I talked about dogs. Here are some cat things, because I have been conditioned to imagine there is some sort of instinctual rivalry between the two species because I watch cartoons.

Please do not be tempted to go diving wearing an old timey helmet but without any means for obtaining oxygen. This cat is an experienced professional who trained under… water, I imagine.

Your skepticism is well placed! That is an absurd notion, considering that you are not a cat.

Are you likewise “tempted” to wear a diaper or to dress your cat in one? If so, you probably have an easier time relating to people on the internet than I do and thus I have no right to criticize you.

Here is some cat food for… oh excuse me that is Frito’s brand bean dip. It is a substance that you dip your beans into. The frito layers pack it in cat food cans to fool their enemies, the beans, who dislike being dipped, but enjoy cat food. Beans are ignorant of the ways of the world. Well, some are, anyway.

That is a good question! I wish you had asked me before you wrote this book! Since you didn’t I am going to forward your inquiry to the next person below me in the chain of command


Santa Claus only takes/leaves the finest steroid jelly beans. I assume he returns them when he is finished with them, because these are the kind of steroids that improve your skill at making steroids. Additionally, since these aren’t approved by dopes they are therefore legal and Santa gets to keep his sponsorship deals and continue appearing in advertisements like this, and more importantly


he gets to continue cycling unstripped.

True, it would seem somebody has already made off with his pants, I’d say he’d best track down the offender (no need to utilize a replacement; he may gain a psychological advantage over the thief) and get equipped anyway


for it appears we have challengers. Very resourceful ones, at that; Although lacking lower bodies and thus a motivation to steal pants, they may steal your hat to protect them from the unidentified white substance dripping down from the radioactive black gelatin mold that floats above them.

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.

hello there. I have somehow ended up in a house without internet for the week. However, if I walk five minutes along the road and sit on a bench beside it with no homes in view I can get it just fine. Which sounds good but consider this regrettable thing that it has allowed me to post now instead of considering if is a good idea for six more days.

Graveyards are profoundly depressing in the respect (RESPECT I say) that even in death you will be defined by your personal monetary value, or what your family struggles to make its value appear to be. The people with the highest social rank have the biggest, most elaborate graves, even though they are no more dead than anyone else trapped in a box and hidden there. This is the grave yard near Yale university, which means it’s full of decorated military leaders, government officials, deans and professorial types. It’s no smarter or talenteder than any other cemetary, but it sure seeks to convince me that it is with these huge grey rocks. Oh mab I wish *I* had a huge grey rock! I’m so jealously reverent!
I have visited graveyards before. I always have a good time and a positive attitude.

The rich dead even have fences to keep out the poor dead.
I entered the cemetary because I was looking for a more efficient walk toward my apartment from destinations that seemed to lie in a direct line from it but that I always needed to take etch-a-sketch-esque-a-skesque routes to get to and from. The local google map showed that I could walk directly through the yard, but there was no door at the other end (it probably got dead and is buried in there somewhere), which I did not realize until I was at the place where it ought to have been, resulting in my taking a full graveyard tour and even longer to get back where I came from than usual. I should not complain for google misleading me as there is an underpass near my home that has been blocked due to “road work” for almost two years, and I regularly witness cars drive toward it and come back 30 seconds later, because, I assume, some electric direction system or another told these motorists they could go that way, because in theory it was unblocked at one point, and I find that amusing. The time I was almost arrested for being too close to the highway at a place I could walk to from my apartment, the police driver dropped me off at a place that I could not walk to because she didn’t realize the road was blocked, and it might be ascertained that she or her car lives in town.

If I have a grave I want it to have a practical function. Something that would have value to people who are still alive and have feelings. Maybe I can have a stone conveyor grave that will help people get out of the cemetary faster.

I don’t want a grave at all, but if I had the money to make a big stupid expensive grave I would want it to be as tacky as Falco’s. Something that people could laugh at in a miserable place like this that was deliberately laughable.

But I do not wish to have a grave. Don’t make me deal with your pets, don’t give me a sandwich with white goop on it, don’t identify me with “mister” or my middle name initial letter and think you’re endearing yourself to me, don’t toss unlabeled video links at me and expect me to click them, don’t bury me when I am dead unless you murdered me and are hiding the evidence. That’s just sensible. Consider this my will if you kill me before I write one.
Although if you want to be safe, rent a boat and go out to sea and toss the body overboard. Most likely the corpse will arrive at a shore far from the murder site long after you did it.

A parking space for a deceased’s automobile. That wooden obstruction is to keep a really dumb goat from escaping.

Bird, you’re too heavy! You are knocking that stone over! SHOW SOME RESPECT, BIRD! This is hello’d ground! That means it is fully saturated with greetings and doesn’t need your empty chatter. Do you know what will happen if you disrespect a wealthy dead person from two centuries ago who had lived in comfort among a repressed population of peasants? Somebody alive now will get really self-righteous about it for some reason!

Here lies Eli Whitney, famous for every street in town being named after him. He also invented the cotton gin, which helped inebriate cotton-picking slaves so they would temporarily forget that the effort-eliminating invention didn’t actually give them a break in any way. (note to self: look that up once you have regular internet access again to see if it’s historically valid (note to ross ice shelf: please thank ross for giving me a place to store my ice))

Rinkety dinkety graves for meeply folk. These may not even be secured in the ground. I think they are propped against the wall. These are the most interesting graves to me, though, because they are in all different shades of brown. Unlike eli the whitniest, their roaming undead spectres can’t afford to pay someone to clean off their demise mark once in a while.

Nobody is named Henrietta anymore. Whenever I see the name I immediately think of anthropomorphized farm animals. I can’t imagine anybody named Henrietta that isn’t a cow or a pig. Even this has a picture of a bird on it. The person got dead recently, in 2007 but seemed to have lived a long life, since 1916 and was appreciated enough to get this generous sized granite lump and so I think can handle such treatment from me, even if she wasn’t rich enough to get a fence.

I like this place because there is no pavement and it reminds me of the video game Hexen. This is one area that might actually resemble how the grave zone initially looked and doesn’t have any crass modernism mixed in. Of course Hexen is a video game about slaughtering undead wizards and wraiths (sadly, no skeletons) and I actually shouldn’t find anything comforting about that and in any event it was made in 1995. Even by video game standards that is only the equivelant of one century. But this does make something significant occur to me.

Suppose there was an undead uprising. For all the respect their retainers demand the dead themselves show little to us in rudely screeching when they see us and detaching their heads from their bodies to spit fireballs, or worse, keeping their heads and throwing bones at us. We should not bury them intact all close to each other! And we should be suspicious of anybody who defends their right to not be dismembered.

Also note there are ALWAYS imps present. I didn’t bury no imps. Who let this happen? We really should prohibit imps from entering cemetaries. Any imp that tries should be forced to present its papers. Obviously imps don’t carry paper around and aren’t licensed to exist anyhow. That should keep them out.

“Pandora.” Like I am meant to think it’s forbidden knowledge that I can’t handle that’s going to rock my world literally. In truth it’s the same annoying rubbish I haven’t wanted to handle for half my life.

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

Pandora the Internet Radio is a website that finds and plays music for you based on what it perceives your interests to be.
Two years ago somebody other than myself introduced me to it and I promptly untroduced myself. While it was going on I typed a bunch of text scraps and then didn’t have the time or inclination to sort them out. I still don’t but now I have other things to do that are even less interesting. The fellow insisted Pandora was the most significant scientific achievement since the ninja turtles discovered the secret of the ooze but I clearly lacked security clearance.

Pandora Radio has no idea how quickly it won my trust by pulling up facebook information for me without asking me if I had a page there, much less waiting for me to tell it which was mine, and then somehow using this as an excuse to attack me with some whiny band that it insisted was similar to a band that I primarily “like” the page of because someone I know is in it. They are a GOOD band but I got lucky and am not looking for other “good bands.” You might say that’s the whole point of Pandora but I was holding out hope that I could locate some decent musicians who weren’t necessarily bandy.
You can turn off the facebook connection but you can’t stop it from happening the first time and you can’t have a picture on your page any other way. It has nothing to do with music but I enjoy being able to customize hostile foreign netscapes with familiar, condemnable imps.

You know what I say all the time: “I really want to listen to something with minor key tonality.” In fact everybody knows that. It’s a matter of public record. It has to be, because otherwise, that this thing knows is a tremendous breach of decency and undeniable evidence of absolutely sinister corporate collusion which way too many people that I know personally are apparently, contently, going along with.
The blurb there is consistent with my past experience that the smarter somebody tries to sound talking about music, the dumber the world gets. You can speak of being experts and know the difference between keys and time signatures but you can’t do anything to make your opinion of music any more valid than anyone else’s. My thoughts on Suprematist art didn’t change when I learned what its name was or what it was trying to accomplish (although recreating it in 3d was a good idea) and I like Gustav Klimt when he paints things that aren’t filled with shapes that resemble eyes, but I couldn’t tell somebody they were wrong to like eye shapes based on their not knowing what gesso was unless I was an irredeemable scumbag. Then, perhaps, I would have use for someone to sweetly redeem me. However, if I typed “High Flight Society” into Pandora it would just play a song by These Green Eyes that had nothing in common with it and I would go unredeemed, or possibly redempt in a manner that pertained to a different category of taste reception and THEN by gorby where would I be?

So after shunning facebook I was advised to say what I personally thought I liked, if I’m so smart.

I grant that these are hokey choices. Obviously Prophet Fukami wouldn’t be in there so I didn’t try that. Konami and Falcom put out most of the arranged/performed video game music albums that I am aware of so they seemed like the ones to start with. My taste in music is not logical and I am entitled to privately prefer hokey selections.

Yet when prompted to supply an artist that I already liked, I was turned down several times before Pandory gave up Yoko Shimomura, who gets to be in there for being one of precious few composers I like to have worked recently. Apparently she scored Kingdom Hearts, the video game, which I assume has nice enough music but unfortunately its unfortunate fan base puts the music in the “children’s” category which by the music robot’s reckoning makes it similar to The Wiggles as well as non-wiggles trying to sound wiggly, never at all mind that Yoko Shimomura is Japanese, working in video games and without using any words. Surely the game HAS an annoying word song in it somewhere to give it mass wimply appeal, but the first thing that came up was nice enough.

Afterward a half-Raffi said the same stuff about the jungle over and over again, and then Einstein played knick knack on people’s thumbs in a gesture I’m sure he was just as proud of afterward as atomic bombs. I praise children’s music the genre for daring to have songs that aren’t about the pursuit of sex (though doubtlessly if you put “he played knick-knack” in absolutely any other context somebody would think it was a hilarious masturbaty euphemism and giggle accordingly) but gosh they’re repetitive. Next there we went “loopty loo” and it was actually less musically complex than the Barney version. And then I regretted thinking that because an actual Barney song came on.

When an audio sequence comes through pandora you can indicate if you approve of it or if you don’t, or nothing at all, but like hulu’s ad disliking system, it likes to eventually return to the first thing you disliked, so confident in its own infallibility as to assume nobody would ever dislike everything it came up with unless the person was just testing the system to see what would happen and therefore not worth working to accommodate.

except for that one time I broke hulu by hating all its ads and it tried shill at me for 23 Spanish shows all at once. In frap every ad is not relevant to me because I am off the market for new television. I have two shows that I am compulsively bound to and when one of us gives up I hope it will all be over. Thankfully I don’t need to have the same policy for music because one song rarely lasts twenty-one minutes and I can listen to it without halting every aspect of my already not-very-exciting life.

And so with that in mind Pandorcus saw fit to give me a second barney song

Pandora suspected I might dispute the reasoning behind this decision and then would not allow me to leave until I thoroughly understood its lecture. it can tell me WHY it chose a song, — in fact, it likes nothing better– but I cannot tell it WHY it’s wrong or that the criteria it’s using is wrong.

What the peep is a “kid friendly vibe?” Music is not inherently malicious unless it’s created deliberately to be annoying, loud or dissonant. There are people who like listening to staticy voices and modulating frequency noises instead of conventional music, and that might not even be “unfriendly” if enough people like it that it feels better about itself. As for vibe, that means “vibration,” and a thing which creates vibrations is a vibrator, which is usually not sold to children at all. I confess I am curious how and/or why Pando has gotten around this but I’m not sure I could handle the information. I barely recovered from the knick-knack-knickerbock interlude.

The only thing that children like better than Home Depot is Sacha Baron Cohen. Naked hairy man fights also translate surprisingly well into audio form, provided you double the pitch first.
I was in a laundromat when I finally came back to this, april 20, 2012, and a flubbing home depot ad came over the radio, immediately after another ad warning me that Tyler Perry’s Madea was coming LIVE to some local venue whose name I have lamentably forgotten.

They also love free business cards.
So now every crummy top-10 fm pepsi-selling hit is also inherently identical to all video game music if it’s been on a kidz bop album.
The kidz boppiting rapper actually said “yee auhhhh” at the start of whatever that was. I imagine the professional rappists who yee auhhh are merely preparing their voices before they’re actually supposed to say stuff and whoever is supposed to edit that out never bothers to. However, this kid is saying “yee auhhhh” because he thinks it sounded good in the original and ought to be imitated. It didn’t and shouldn’t!

Through consistently disapproving of everything I eventually caused Pandy to only play minimalist xylophonic music, with no bass, harmony or percussion, and I need more than that. The second one that came up was a wordless cover of an aerosmith song. See, that’s the wrong kind of thinking. People who feel overwhelmed by voices in their lives shouldn’t have to piggy on the backs of atrocious acts like that to gain acceptance. I am not strictly avoiding words, anyhow. I am avoiding music I don’t like. As glad as I am to not hear Steven Tyler, that’s not because his presence makes the work too complex for me to comprehend.

Admidst all this Pandora kept going on and on about the music genome project like it was diplomatic immunity. It means to say oh gee sorry dude but the genome said you’d like this, so… so? Finish your sentence! I don’t excuse you because you trail off. I’m ill of you people. It’s just… I JUST. You just what? Started talking and then stopped? I don’t even… You do it all the time! And you don’t get to call me dude! Only Hulk Hogan may call me dude and he only did it once. You know why your music genome project is flawed? Clearly no, so I have to tell you: Because music doesn’t have a “genome.” There is nothing genetic about it. These people just can’t think far enough to invent a name that’s not imitating something else they heard about. There was a human genome project and one of these forklogans thought “hey let’s change the word ‘human’ to ‘music’ and then stop there.” Even the “radio” suffixed to the website’s name and end of any artist for which similar junk is sought is technologically inaccurate and silly and I want to throw pudding at it so its silliness is more evident to others.

According to the website,
On January 6, 2000 a group of musicians and music-loving technologists came together with the idea of creating the most comprehensive analysis of music ever. but does not say who these are nor what reason exists to believe that them together comprise every possible musical preference. What ignorant self-satisfied reprobate could possibly…

No actually I don’t want to know. I’m glad they don’t tell me!

NO NO NO YOU DON’T GET TO DO THAT! I DENIED YOU YOUR PROMPT! GET GONE!
This is an even lazier running gag than

no elpse today.

we endeavor to include all the great new stuff coming out of studios, clubs and garages around the world.
More stupid stereotypes that appeal to corny people. How much great stuff ever came out of a garage, and how much does these days? The only people I knew who had garage bands were the children of rich people in a couple of tv shows I probably hated twenty years ago.
I don’t even know anybody who has a garage now. I also dispute the use of “new” here. There is heaps of good, old music unaccounted for. It is said by other people who think they’re clever but are actually misquoting that those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. However, those who are blissfully unaware of the past are doomed instead to repeat the present in perpetuity and while less dangerous I want this sentence to end.

We require your gender information to help our targeted advertising be just as wrong about you as our music selections
Also, people pay to use this.

I really shouldn’t have, but I considered that maybe perhaps the website would have improved its method in two years, so I had it running while I rewrote and formatted that up there. I shouldn’t have because that guaranteed I would have more griping to do before I could leave.

Nobuo Uematsu, another video game person, did have a listing, but he’s well known (I swear) and I don’t necessarily want stuff similar to the heavy orchestral arrangements he’s apparently well known for (or that comprise the one official released album he made that is in Pandora’s box), much less what this kooky kontraption mechanically muses and daftly decrees is similar. We need to differentiate between opposing cornies. This got me more serviceable results than Yoko Shimomura but none of the synthesizery stuff that comprises a majority of what made me like Uematsy and learn his name to begin with.

I said it was a functional composition, not that I ever wanted to hear it again. Most of what came through this was really dreary. No songs about the noises cows make but I may just be difficult to please. I don’t want items that I already have but I don’t want stuff that annoys me either.

I tried entering the name of Falco, an admitted vocalist, and was presented with some unremarkable 80s-sounding tunes, like Enjoy the Silence, better known as the song about the king wandering through the wilderness. When I just hear the song I don’t have any proof that a king is singing it because he neglects to say that he’s a king (never even mind whether he can sing) or make any royal decrees and it becomes a lot less interesting, aside from the outlandish hypocrisy of this chap ordering me to enjoy the silence after he’s been moaning about words doing harm in his little world for three minutes. By the time he shuts up another song is ready to start. Dumb king. If I am going to settle for unremarkability I need to have more control over it than this. I remember the first time I heard the song on an actual radio system, rather than with the music video, and being less interested without the king. Now that I have re-examined the video even that is rather dull. He should have a more substantial beard.

Ah, given that these images are two years old, just today I went back and typed the name again. Last time they said they’d check it out. They never did! Or they did but they had returned it already before I came back.

“Genre stations.” I hate genres. When somebody asks me “what kind” of music I listen to, I hope that they do not specify “willingly” because I have no answer. I don’t like music by its kind. I like it because it has interesting tunes and minimally oppressive voices, if any. When I tell people I like video game music they immediately change the subject if they don’t give up right there. I suspect they interpret it to mean I have unsophisticated tastes and that I merely haven’t been “exposed” to good or “real” music that by some chance happens to be exactly what they listen to, which by another chance happens to be exactly what I’m deliberately avoiding because I know I hate it. I realize that now. During my pandora trial I still maintained hope that there was a possibility of me being able to enjoy anything but silence when in the company of others (including kings who advocate the opposite). And in truth that even is not so very bad. I wish I could go shopping without Jason Mraz fedora-ing up my earlobes or share a car with someone who was actually open to having a conversation. We just need obnoxious voicy noise that we can’t respond to coming at us at all times because otherwise we risk having a thought. I see people sitling motionless in waiting rooms, on benches, on buses, going for leisurely walks, or simply standing around, inside or out[side], always with their goldfarbed earphones in and activated loud enough that I can discern the noise’s nature. We are terrified of the absence of noise. I should feel fortunate that I desire so little of it.

In closing, I cannot be pleased and it is futile to try.

No actually I like some musical theatre and I already feel boring.

Historically this has been the best ending I have been capable of writing.