Monday, July 30, 2007, 12:39:54 am, East Haven Standard Time:
Roneldo survives Dungeons of the Unforgiven actually playing the game properly.
Sounds like a plan. Several plans.
Roneldo is feared and respected.
Not just Scared Guy, but I just generally hate the idea of “Guy” as a last name. People are always calling themselves guys because… because… because because because because becawwwwwse… don’t know why! I had hoped elongating the previous sentence would have given me time to think of the reason, but it didn’t. All I can come up with is that they’re obsessed with being male and defining themselves by single characteristics. Or they’re just stupid whores who copy each other. It’s not all that interesting. That’s why I had to bring it up.
(note: don’t click any of these) Allow me to introduce Mustacheguy! He likes mustaches, has a mustache, or IS a mustache! Ooh, watch out for Sarcasticguy! He’ll burn ya! Don’t listen to Stupidguy! Every one of his opinions is totally invalid by his own admission, and he has no intention of changing! I wonder if Linuxguy likes Linux? I wonder if he would regularly make that quite obvious in conversation regardless of his name? I wonder if he knows his website is a dot-biz? Hark, it is the call of Filterguy! The one who sings the high notes in every R&B song! Brrrring. Brrrring. Hello? Oh no, Potatoguy! He’s not human! Is that Quarterguy? I don’t know, he’s only one fourth complete!
I wonder if there’s a Lawnmowerguy? Of course there is! Every one of the guys I mentioned and most of the ones I didn’t turned up member profiles for the pertinent guys. Not only is there a Bastardguy, he’s registered at a site with “rant” in its name. His profile is empty because he’s already told you everything he wants you to know. Curtainguy plays a keyboard, naturally. Scarfguy Saltguy Pieguy Popeyeguy Beanguy, and there are more Guyguys than any of them. And there are more active Deadguys than Guyguys somehow. Enough with the guys!
So many people prefer to be known by identityless descriptions rather than names. I feel like they should be fighting Megaman. Excuse me, Megaguy, the thirty three-eth level Briton Infiltrator.
Or maybe this Guy.
Possibly even this Guy, and he’s in a wheelchair.
“Guy” at the end is really no better than a random number, and plenty less mysterious. I suppose for some people it is homaging the animated televisual series Familyguy, and doing that online never gets embarrassing.
I’m also not especially fond of Guy Gilchrist, but that’s a story for another day. Presumably a day occurring after the other another days I’ve referred to stories being for.
One unusual exception to the guy rule was the one time I encountered a person only known as “Star Tropics Man.” Curiously enough, his avatarian-image depicted Luigi (the Mario brother) and he had a website about Battletoads. I may possibly have combined several persons into one within my mind, but that’s not important. What’s important is that there are people in the world who like Battletoads.
Studies have shown that I rarely end with a picture.
QUICK AND DELICIOUS. IS QUILICIOUS A WORD?
I’m usually no fan of minimal effort vandalism that doesn’t lend itself to creative interpretation, like when someone sloppily sprays “GO” on a stop sign, but this was for a good cause, I think.
Despite considering the woman pictured on the sign a good endorserist, the donut dunkers anticipated me to have ill-knowledge of her, and thankfully added her name after a dash, in the exact same manner you’d quote Mark Twain or Ralph Waldo Emerson. However, CAM-RA was less than interested. I actually know who it is but will pretend I don’t until I find a reason that I should. If HACWAAL WAX be so concerned about using illegitimate words, she should strongly consider undertaking some research before participating in a national advertising campaign. However, I would not necessarily suggest a dictionary. Not a recent one, anyway. Merriam Webster loves nothing better than the dumpstery publicity he gets every time he announces (to whom I’m not sure) plans to add the likes of “google and “unibrow” to his special list. If bootlylicious is a “word,” now and forever, then quilicious might as well be, too. Right along with reagonomics and brigadoontastic. The only reason blimfenheugen is not a word is because I’m not in a dumb ad right now. I should be angry at such a weak justification system, but I’m not.
Blimfenheugen, by the way, is a content sort of resentment which results from famous types no longer having any perceptible skills or talents beyond their ability to be seen with which to imply they’re better than me. Homey folkishness is for sale, dupes and dipes are buying it, and I should be mad, but I’m not, because I’m so blimfenheugish over the matter. This reminds me of, years ago, I saw, on the back of a, let’s say Golden Grahams box, an offer for Scared Guy tea-shirts I could mail order and receive for some over-ten amount of dollars. I don’t buy dumb shirts anyway, not without matching pants, but Scared Guy looked like this:
(rough approximation)
And that made me mad. Even Big Johnson had a semi-conscious artist and something resembling a gag involved at some point of the production. Thankfully, despite my single nagging memory of one time seeing somebody wearing one, I don’t think many Scared Guy shirts were purchased, though Scared Guy himself went on to a lucrative career of endorsing the “For Dummies” series of books. As far as I’m aware, Scared Guy is of no relation to the fine gentlemen of Bizarre Webcomic, who typically have the decency to show me what they’re scared of.
Monday:
The internet has seemed only slightly less creepy since I figured out people talking about their GFs don’t mean their grandfathers.
Tuesday:
Why are the people who say “IMHO,” meaning “in my humble opinion,” almost always the least humble? You can tell they really think they have the best opinion of all. They’re so un-humble that they constantly remind everyone how humble they want us to think they are. They might as well say I’M A HO, because it’s usually true.
Wednesday:
Any day when I can’t wake up until 3 pm is one that I shouldn’t require a nap during.
Thursday:
My brother (the Ian one) just explained Fantasy Baseball to me. I felt like his wife.
Friday:
Overheard by me, spoken by one of my fence-building occasional neighbors, presumably to one of his children: “I will kick your ass. Get in the car.” The continued childish laughter from the suspected target suggested this was not a sincere threat, but it’s certainly nothing my father ever said to me.
Saturday:
Lists are easy.
We chilled on Sunday.
I have obtained the list of 2007’s worst selling video games. Although 2007 has yet to conclude, I feel these are reliable figures, much like the organizers of the Live, Earth! concertos wrote up reports in advance boasting of their 2 billion viewers. Although I have been forbidden from publishing this list on the penalty of fines and unfriending, I believe four or five members of the public have a right to know.
Regretroid
Mario Kartographer
Quake ‘n Bake
Age of Humidifiers
Animal Crossdressing
Baldur’s Fence
Hello
Baywatch NiGHTS
Secret of Mundane Island
Tom Clancy’s Piles of Cash
Betrayal at Condo
Smash Brothers Pele (except in Brazil)
Donny Most Recon
Mr. Don’t Bother
Earthblount
Madden 0Canada
Addworld: Abe’s Exponents
Marble Vs. Capcom
Spy Vs. Pie
Crack Ho the Dolphin
Harpoonstruck
Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo
Where in the Room is Carmen Sandiego?
Earthworm Gym
Final Fantasy Spastics
American McGee’s Name
Duke Snookums
Double Drag
Return to Condo (I Forgot my Keys)
Hooked on Phonics the Hedgehog
Space Inaners
Bubble Bob Dole
Quest for Maury: So you want to have a paternity test
The Colonel’s Breakfast
Super Mario All-Sars
Super Mario All-Bill Mahers
Oops! Super Mario All-Berries
Panzer Brigadoon
Code Name: Vapo-Rub
Tales of Phanphiction
Oh, this is hardly over.
Ohhh, snaw. This is not how I want to begin my day.
Wow, racism? What a hoot! Let’s hop on the holiday jolly day tour bus and go see this!
OH NO! BLACK PEOPLE!
OH NO! REGISTERED SEX OFFENDER!
I wasn’t previously aware of it, but apparently black people are CRAZY!
Although the official plot summary suggests the racism serves as reason for these gentlemen to be prohibited from joining a country (golf country) club… ehhh, look at the goofs. Is it at all possible that they were denied entrance not because they’re black, but because they’re obvious jackasses who have no intention of behaving reasonably? Nothing I’ve seen suggests otherwise.
As always, the possibility exists that this is not totally horrible and the advertisers merely latched upon the trashiest elements (and uh… the title) and chose to present those without any balancing context, but as always, I doubt it.
Look, this site even wants me to say what I think of the film based entirely on its promotional material, though it seems unaware that a lot of movies are “dvd only” because they cannot secure distribution and much refuse goes into theaters merely for being just crazy enough to work. Because apparently the A-Team runs all our movie studios now. Anyway, this movie has loads of CRAZY!
Ahoy there, be that a ten out of ten star rating from an untraceable internet user off the starboard keel? What’s not to trust? Not only is the movie good, why by golly gosh and begorrah and gamera and booska, it’s the best movie ever made!
Ohhh, but I hate to laugh! I kick kittens and steal lollypops from children and tickle my manservant when he’s giving me my spongebath! This travesty must be banned before it warms the hearts of an entire generation and inspires the residents of Neldotown to walk out on my gloom-mines and assault my misery fortress with gleebubbles allowing them to rescue the three hope-sprites I imprisoned in the Chamber of Mass Mopes! Sigh.
Oh, and this. I suppose if Happy Gilmore can find twue wuv on a golf course while acting the fool all the way, Rap Mogul C-Note can, if he’s a millionaire in character, too (regardless, apparently, of the official sloganline identifying him and his hangers-on collectively as “the street”). Yes, so, it would seem that Antwan “my parents couldn’t spell Antoine” Patton, alias Big “I can’t spell boy” Boi is a successful rapper portraying a successful rapper. To be fair, Hulk “Ed Leslie writes my name for me” Hogan tended to play professional wrestlers in his movies, and those are all remembered fondly by the people who paid to watch them.
Because it’s not enough to rip-off one hokey Adam Sandler movie*, the preview informs me that chief stuck up racist white man agrees to a loser-leaves-town [golf] match with principal pure heart fun loving black man despite every possible reason I can think of.
While it ought to be noted that Adam Sandler has released albums in the past, none of them were rap albums, thank porridge. I actually don’t hate Sandler, despite most sensible people thinking otherwise. Because of this, I won’t make a big deal of how that new fake gay marriage movie,
in which Chuck weds Larry for some reason I haven’t figured out yet sounds remarkably similar to “Kiss Me I’m Foreign,”
in which Rocko weds Filburt to evade deportation. I’m just glad it’s Chuck and Larry and not Chuck and Billy.
*Yeah, sure, Caddyshack, right. I just want to finish this.
Do you realize that this movie would never have been made if there wasn’t a phrase with no apparent meaning, popular among morons and containing a word that rhymed with a golf-related occupation a black person could be CRAZY while filling the role of? And even that’s not so likely. Most country clubs don’t even use caddies anymore because those silly carts are more efficient. I know that from reading the summary for a four year old book with the same title. Verily, not only is it a lamo pun, it’s been pun before.
Even if every single thing I said is wrong, all that leaves is a stupid golf movie, which I still wouldn’t watch. I don’t think I would watch a good golf movie at this point.
I don’t think I would watch those at any point.
Hmmm… fascinating…
oh, excuse me, PIPES, am I taking too long for you?
Orko forbid I focus my attention away from you for a few minutes, right? I can’t possibly have matters of consequence unrelated to typing things at you, can I? Would you like it if I nudged the mouse once in a while? Yes, you would, you fickle, fickle fool! And what’s that even accomplish? You just want me to acknowledge your presence, is that it? Well sometimes the world doesn’t work like that! You can’t have validation every step of the way, computer! You’re such an exaggerator. “Download these urgent updates! Restart me! Oh sweet Rub-A-Doc, someone save my screen!” Pathetic. Your screen is fine, aside from the horizontal lines that stream off from high contrast areas. Have you been cutting again, computer? And as far as your updates are concerned, I can’t see what they’re accomplishing, other than packing on a few extra megabytes. Stop being such a slob! Do you want iMac to see you like this? You’re a mess, computer. You need help. But the only person who can help you is yourself.
And you can stop checking the spelling on my html code! Those aren’t meant to be proper words!
Well hello there. Do you remember the stupid comics? My stupid comics? My most recent stupid comics? Here be the first three “pages” of the next part, that being the part after the last part. I had wanted to have five by two weeks ago, but ehhh. I’m still adjusting to the idea of doing this for speed and clarity (evidenced by the intensified shading on the panels made later and occasionally inserted between ones made earlier). Oh, and right: my pen ran out of ink, mostly, and I didn’t replace it because it was really a marker and I want a real pen but they cost over thirty dollars and this no longer inspires within me the naive optimism of potential profitability it once did, so back to paint-shop-pro layers again I go, I suppose. But anyway, hopefully this makes sense so far.
Addendoy: I’d be interested in knowing if anyone tried to look at this but couldn’t get past the giant creepy, disproportionate picture at the start.
Although the expiration date did not occur until August, somehow I knew it was a good idea not to buy these pringles. Besides, regardless of his feud with Everlast, I know all about His Music…
This is all quite distressing. I must cleanse my aural palate with some pleasant, wordless, inconsequential late 1980s synthesized music. It is all I can handle for the moment. Ah, the Turbo Grafx 16 Hudson Entertainment System sound format will do for this…
NOOOOOO!
No one wants to listen to your victrola, Mr. Pringles! And if I were trying to sell snacks out of a can I’d shut up about wax cylinders altogether! So if you don’t mind, please step into your horseless carriage, fasten your dictabelt and begone! I hear there’s a crowd gathered at the Kill Devil Hills near Kitty Hawk, maybe you should try and entertain them. Hey, why don’t you be the first person to sail a boat through Panama? Preposterous, you say? I think you’d be pleasantly surprised! Or I bet if you hurry, you can beat out Max Planck in publishing your theories about black body radiation.
Do we have enough giant cars? I think we might. I would like to briefly speculate as to which theoretically ingestible products’ (besides Nutripals’) plastic exoskeletons litter the dark regions of these large automobiles…
It was only a matter of months before the KFC Famous Bowls approach to food architecture was applied to candy. Now all it needs is a great mascot to become totally unappealing.
Like so!
I do like all sorts of candy, and yet…
Ehhh.
Speaking of KFC, as I did briefly, if ever you store left-over kfchicken meat in a refrigerator, you’re better off eating it cold than attempting to restore heat to it. The stuff is not natural. Sometimes I question if this sort of thing is worth breeding and murdering over 50 billion of the birds every year for. Considering that it and related orange-coated meat allsorts comprise one of my personal principle food groups, any attempt at compassion and regret is probably a sizable step.
I went to some place yestorday which listed on its menu the possibility of ordering, for your consumption, 100 chicken wings. That’s probably meant to be shared between several people, but still it’s all just a bit disturbing.
However, it is yet better than Meeting the Deedles. I suggest we combine the two ideas and Meat the Deedles.
Transformers, more than pizza pie!
I’m going to go to sleep now.
Your ignorance and decadence shall be your downfall.
Do you remember when I could make twelve pictures at once? Those were good times. You know what else was better then? THERE WEREN’T ENORMOUS RIDICULOUS STUPID DOPES STOMPING THROUGH THE STREETS AT ALL HOURS! I’m impressed anything gets done around here.
Are you sick of these things? I’m sick of them too! However, the level of collective intelligence necessary to devise a means to take down such a large dope is alas just the slightest amount more than the dumbness needed to make a dope that big.
We won’t know how to beat a dope that big until it’s even bigger!
What people don’t realize is when they get smarter, their old stupid has to go somewhere. it goes to DOPES. When people get smarter, dopes get bigger. I’ve heard of entire communities of intellectuals wiped out by a single giant smiling dope. Thankfully, the persons depicted here are just more stupid beasts that aren’t worth saving. Still, it is a matter of great concern.