I’m tired of stupid factoids. Things that aren’t true but people pass around as if they are true because they’re boring people with nothing to say, otherwise. Today, I specifically am annoyed at the suggestion that no one can remember that section of the The Flintstones song. I remember reading that online maybe a year ago, and then this past week, as part of its continuing quest to devise the most asinine, endlessly repeated non-ad between show filler in existence, the Boomerang channel comes up with this. It’s a two minute muted clip show which flashes nigh readable, nigher need-knowable flintstones trivia mcnuggets set to the sound of one of those homeless bum remixes which takes a few seconds of original music and infects it with a disproportionate period of toneless drum beats. Then right at the end these words appear really slowly, like it’s the most important thing I could possibly know, even though it’s telling me I don’t know, and it’s not even right!
It’s very possible that this article is the same place I read that comment the first time, and the promope in question is the one I cited earlier, meaning the ‘toid is only being retoided a single time, rather than three times and assumedly a great deal more, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t make me mad.
Surely we agree that one cannot forget what one has never known, and I suggest that a majority, if not all people never knew what that line was to begin with. I certainly never did. I used to think it was “through the courtesy of friends we meet.” Which is stupid and makes no sense, but the same can be said of The Flintstones / each and every attempt to revive interest in them after their initial broadcast career forty years ago, before those even get made. If I was skeptical that the Flintstones were only the family down the street through the courtesy of friends they met, my mishearing “let’s ride with…” as “that’s right! We’re the family down the street” must have suggested to me that they, the singers, who were therefore also the Flintstones –despite there only being two Flintstones proper with speech capabilities and at least three singers, none of whom sounded like Fred– knew it was a bit odd. “Yes, that’s right. It is just as you heard. The affable acquaintances that we sometimes encounter have generously allowed us to be a closely related group of people who live together in a place along the same road as you do.” How could I forget that?
For me, the least remembered was “One day, maybe Fred will win the fight” because it, along with “and/then the cat will stay out for the night” are only mentioned during the closing sequence. The aspect of the end lyrics being slightly different is an aspect which most lyric listers neglect altogether. A reasonable person would be surprised how often Flintstone lyrics get listed. Although the notion of Fred winning the fight took me more iterations of the theme song to identify than that of the cat remaining out, I surely knew it was there and so if I disremembered one I forgot the other, and a successful recollection of either likeways always brings the partner.
We are not all presented at our introduction into formal education, the earliest point at which we are assumed to have developed comprehension skills, with a clear recitation of the The Flintstones’ theme song words. And I’m glad, because it’s a stupid song with stupid words. I could barely handle that repulsive song about “three banana in banana tree” when I was in the kinder garten. Number rhumba all. day. long. ?! No! Not even for part of a day! The dumbest part was that it only went up to three. What good does that do me? Maybe the song ends sooner, but education wise you’re not doing your duty if you don’t get me up to at least seven, the most common amount for a pair of dice to show. I was a big gambler in my yufe. And realistically, what are the chances of me encountering a banana tree with only three bananas growing on it? They grow in bunches, and even if only three came to a bunch, you wouldn’t take all but one, would you? No, so a single bunch of 3 must be the extent of its powers, and such a low yield plant –they aren’t even trees! Fool– would never survive in the highly competitive banana business. Which isn’t really all that competitive at all, due to the few companies handling it all, ousting all mom-and-pop governments which dare challenge them.
The most consumed, mass produced fruit in the world and I hate it. I didn’t even know they were dying out until today, all because a couple bananerds in the 1920s couldn’t handle a few seeds in their soup. And bananas aren’t dying out, really. Just the single type that’s sold to Americans. Gah, that’s so typical. Putting all your money behind one thing and expecting it to last forever. Stupid Americans. Stupid Bananas. Stupid Flintstones.
I only learned what the line actually was when, for my own nefarious research purposes I read the scripts of various situation-comedies. One among them was the pilot of Full House, at the end of which the episode’s non-Olsen cast sings the Flintstones theme song. The show opening version, even though that show is just ending. Although as the pilot, in a sense the show is just beginning. But if I saw that today I’d demand that it end right there. This is not worth arguing with you about.
If that was half as horrible to see and hear as I imagined it to be in my mind, it would probably just fall under acceptable levels of sappiness, but it’s unlikely to only be half as horrible as I imagined it. I was too simple a fool to cringe at Full House when I watched it during its prime seasons; this was around the same time I came up with “through the courtesy of friends we meet” after all, but gash, I was shocked at how awful that script was. Anyway, they all knew the right words to the song and that was the first I’d ever seen them printed out. Since then, I have not once forgotten. Nor have I forgotten what I used to think they were. So, in a sense, I remember those words most of all.
Les Archives Roneldo recently turned up an unproduced television series pilot based on author Shirley Jackson’s famous 1959 novel The Haunting of Hill House.
Likely it was rejected by all potential investors because it drew so strongly and so soon from its source material as to be inaccessible to those who had not yet first read original story. Some of it I don’t even understand, and I read that dreadful book twice. Nonetheless, I find it quite fascinating.
If you’re truly desperate for context, my attempt at literary analyses from some time ago explains a bit, but… well, it’s not meant for you. It’s not even meant for me. There’s a reason I didn’t put it here two years ago, unrelated to my inability to convert RTF into HTM properly and my apparent tendency to change fonts every line. But I’d recommend this before I’d recommend the book.
I’ve heard a couple of times recently (well, about this time last year) that “Peewee’s Playhouse” has entered a re-airing schedule and had its shows released on the dvd disks. As someone who never watched the show, only saw Peewee’s Big Adventure (Peewee no Daiboken) once, years ago, I must say: Paul Reubens is creepy and Peewee is creepier. Is it possible there’s a new audience for this? Ehhh, disregard his problematic incident in 1992, and he still has an incredibly off-putting presence. He reminds me of a Drew Friedman illustration. That moves around. It’s not surprising that he does bits for Jimmy Kimmel “Live,” a program unlikely to be affected by a writer’s strike, these days.
Which brings me to
(this was the most economical storage option)
Also observe the brilliant slogan: CURING AMERICA’S WUSSIES, ONE WUSSY AT A TIME. I can only presume that’s intentionally stupid. Because otherwise I have to explain how it’s wrong, and I’m just not in mental condition to do so with that… hominid staring at me. I will say that I’d rather be a “wussy” with a mysterious unnamed illness then whatever myriad others Steeb-O has. I refuse to receive any sort of treatment from a guy who’s “famous” for intentionally applying electricity to his own scrotum and filming it. Not so much that I’m afraid he’d encourage / attempt to enforce that sort of behavior in others, I just don’t want to be near the doof. I don’t want his essense in my imminence. I’d rather feel the essence of Emeril (something I would not like at all!). It would be like the time I saw a pipe protruding from the ground near the road and put my left arm into it, and when I pulled the arm out it was covered with black goop. Except instead of my arm it would be my soul. The muck washed off, but it was muy awful and… evidently I remembered it for sixteen years. Regardless of what Stevosaurus is doing in sixteen years (my guess is “rotting inside a box”), I don’t want to remember this then.
The thing I am trying to put here is causing serious problems. I shall have to make it a normal web page. Unfortunately, there’s no excuse for a normal webpage to be that bad. Back to work, then…
I recently implied a person’s brain to have “ruptured” following my display of a minor editorial oversight by the person. That was probably a tad uncalled for. It was, in fact, originally intended to follow a different, considerably dumber passage which indicted “manga nuts” in addition to the other two culprits, but then I realized I had just read it wrong, so it was only kind of dumb, and so omitted it altogether.
Ehhh!
SINCE WHEN is [the] Nightmare Before Christmas a Disney movie? I hate that. And they brought in the kooshbrain HELLY POTHUH announcer to narrate the stupid lying ad. I don’t give a boot if Touch-tone Pictures is Disney pretending it isn’t Disney. I still think that’s really sleazy to distance yourself from a production until it’s proven an ability to make money and then pretending you had been putting your name before it all along. While it does not imply the usual Disney ownership, limiting him to a role as post-mortem presenter while leaving in place the original “Tim Burton’s,” it must be acknowledged that Mr. Burton’s name is smaller and in a less legible font.
The best that came from Disney’s rare exhibition of shame was delaying the idiotic tie/cash-in video games long enough for me to hate video games and for Capcom to get the contract again (twelve years, from the looks of things), just because I’m selfless like that. Thus 1993 me was protected from another highly available acid-drip and drown pool dodging heed stomp-fest, and more importantly the worst possible music treatment when M. Sorbo played the worst possible adaptation on his Game-Gear every day during my and a select few other students’ daily hour-long, short-bus expeditions to Foundation School and subsequent half hour waits behind other buses in the dropoff line. The trip would have been much shorter, but M. Sorbo was the only member of the entire “school” from North Haven, leaving the town unwilling to provide a vehicle, but apparently East Haven is really nice as long as you aren’t black people. At least I hated the songs from The Lion King anyway.
I’ve never seen such a quick transition from overexcited back of box copy to self-unconsciously ridiculous fan reminiscing. On other websites than wikipedia.
I love that the writer tells me this Oogie character is a Disney villain allied with Malfeasance, but not that “artificial heart” means something beside the common, seventy-year old use of the term outside of a recent video game which the writer otherwise assumes I know nothing about. To someone familiar with the film but not Kingdom Hearts, for whom the paragraph is intended, else irrelevance, it seems that Mr. Boogehhh ate a lump of metal and plastic and attempted to procure nourishment from it, an act more moronic than villainous. Jack is the real monster for ordering the donor-waiting to do his trivial bidding in exchange for their very survival through use of his untested prototype, all the while knowing even the most sophisticated, non-grubby skeleton medical technology has not yet devised a long lasting replacement for the popular blood pumping organ and that the transplantation itself has a 21% chance of failure. Who’s the real “heartless” here?
Is it the combination of being a wikipedia editor and a Kingdom Hearts fan which causes people’s brains to rupture? Or is it just being a Kingdom Hearts fan? I won’t deny, it looks potentially enjoyable, but it has a truly unfortunate effect on people.
I neither wish to use the game nor can I read about it for more than ten seconds without reflexorily shouting something like “give me a break!” And I never get one1! Yet I keep trying, because all this talk about hearts, darkness and dark hearts (not to mention tart carts when I discussed Foundation School) obviously suggest it is an unofficial sequel to Heart of Darkness, and I’m intrigued as to Donald Duck’s sinister relationship with wicked ivory traders in the Belgian Congo, the idea of which is slightly less ridiculous than some kid wearing clown shoes beating up Sephiroph with a big key for twelve minutes every single related video clip I’ve tried to watch or read the description for.
Every time I see the phrase “King Mickey” I want to scream. But I don’t. So thank me, people downstairs.
I mean, if anything, it should be King Michael.
I really want to stop thinking about this.
1Edit! At approximately 8:45 pm, eastern standard time, somebody gave me a Kit Kat bar, quite without my asking. God works in mysterious, stupid ways.
More stupid comics.
the part immediately prior
I’m sure I had something I wanted to tell you about this, but I’ve long since forgotten.
However, it has twice come at my attention that the other most recent “pages” appear to either be going backwards or to take place in the past entirely. Well, they aren’t and don’t. Confusion may have been instigated because both the complementary colored buffoons’ destination and the place they have come from are dome shaped, plus the creature that always talks seems unsure of what the new dome is. Also, NEMITZ starts in a chair, but then isn’t in a chair, as it wasn’t prior to arriving at the first dome-shaped place. Another problem may be, and it’s been this way for two years, when a viewer reaches the end of the pages I have done with, a link marked “NO” would send viewer to a listing of all pages, a listing which viewer most likely did not come from, and without receiving any indication that, ehhh, the “story” is unfinished, a person may suspect the links lead to some place new when in actuality they do not.
I don’t know which one to beat up first. The left for starting this or the right for following and being proud of that plus its previous crimes. One thing certain is that this preposterous pair do not deserve such elegant fingers.
Off the chain? You’d be OFF MY FRIEND LIST if you were on it and I was the sort of person who considered that an acceptable way of communicating disapproval. I don’t adhere to latest trends anyway, but I certainly don’t trust stupid smiling partially dressed animal people to tell me what those are!
As for the bow tie beanoid, that thing is ECSTATIC. It’s so proud to be wearing a head chain and a bow tie. As long as it can wear the bow tie it will do whatever it thinks is popular. That twit is just a crony. That’s all. It has no real talents. it uses its sychophantic skills to obtain positions of relative power and tries to get laws enacted about stupid things like bow ties. It has information… it knows things (despite being a thing which lacks a nose)… It knows bombs are being sent, and by whom, but it keeps quiet just because its bow tie seems to be respected. It demands not only that any possible sub ordinates wear bow ties, but that the bow ties be smaller than its own. Trust me, I saw its diary.
The bow tie beast could never survive in the wild. It has no natural defenses with which to fight back and no legs with which to evade peril altogether. All it has is big arms. Although the grimp does evidently have opposing thumbs, the thing can’t make and use tools; it is a tool. If it invited me to its birth-day party I would give it a one of these. I’m not just some stupid animal so I’d do it properly.
I have pages and pages of this.
25 tv commercial classics: am I the only person who thinks this is totally disgusting? Or am I just the only person who knows this exists? Should I just say nothing?
While it’s nice to hear, at last, unedited proper versions of the music that can’t help get raped by scoundrels due to being copyright free and scoundrels loving to rape, you should never listen to music BECAUSE it’s advertised products. No, you should listen to music because a passing online acquaintance of yours says “Buy this album. (period) Now.”
And nine of these are [Excerpt] so you’re still only hearing what they want you to hear. Yes, a lot of classical music is boring, but I know quite factually that Jupiter of The Planets (and Capt’ain Eli fame) is great for the whole seven minutes and to only listen to the middle is reprehensible. You’re just supposed to put this on, close your eyes and imagine never ending hideous voice overs, bowl haircut children, crystal-meth’ apron ladies, cars going nowhere, words floating in space, numbers that end in .99 and on and on. I’m lucky there’s no chance of a company building brand loyalty through selling do-it-yourself-hanging kits and thus no one selling them because I’d buy one.
It makes me mad. Some goofs want me to pay them money for music they got for free and then took stuff out of. You might as well pay someone to eat the sprinkles off your ice cream, after you specifically asked for sprinkles. Or rather, you asked for shots but they’re really sprinkles.
The orchestra has to be payed, right? Yes, and those are usually much larger than the usual group of scoundrels who make the tunes I can’t escape from, ehhhh, but no one orchestra member has the legal business cloutzenrupen of a contemporary moaning skank so I’m sure it comes out much cheaper. I bet most of the recordings are decades old anyway, so probably no one is getting paid. Ideally, that includes the people who sell this CD.
I found this searching for “aaron copland commercial,” –I’m actually a bit surprised this came up at all because as you can see by that track listing fragment it credits conductors but no composers– because all the music I’ve heard by him that sounds like anything makes me think of products, and so I sought existing commentary on the subject. And while some people mention it, they don’t seem all that bothered by it. They just acknowledge it and move on. Blogging scum. It’s always hey! Look at this! You! Watch this video! Queegysproggit, read these song lyrics! Comment my pics! Ration my rum! Change my diaper! Grease my knees and fleece my bees! I found my missing piece! Digg and fave it! Is it my job? They need to stop trying to make me angry at them and let me be angry at ads.
All these ads. Stupid ads that haven’t been on in years. I can’t always even remember what they were selling. All I remember is my rage. Yet despite all my rage I am still incapable of taking action to improve the situation. The world is a blood-sucking organism. This album’s so disgusting, it encourages use of the phrase “since sliced bread” which is only relevant as far as the irrelevant picture of bread, totally meaningless and only exists at all because dumb people have been saying it for no reason for years without realizing it’s ludicrous, just as they’ve been tolerating dumb ads and music abuse.
This reminds me, I’m sick of people trying to trick me into thinking ads are music videos by putting those stupid 1980s MTV squares of white letters in the lower left corners. I’m not fooled! If you really want me to pay attention, try black letters in the upper right corner. That’d shake things up, by Shakur. They’d never try lower right, because that’s where the never ending network logo goes and so the moment I didn’t see it obstructing what I was trying to read I’d know it wasn’t a real music video. Even though I already know it isn’t. Because the song was only thirty seconds and I was watching Jake and the Fat Man.
Ordinarily I would discourage further copying and usage of the most prolific image of something which can be found on the internet, but this is the best I’ve found to exhibit that the show is called Jake and the Fat Man, that there is a fat man, and that he is very fat man. If it depicted just Jake I wouldn’t bother. This image makes clear that while the fat man gets secondary billing, he is as more important than Jake as he and his name are fat, so much so that he needn’t even be given a proper name. He’s just a fat fat man.
Ehhh!
I’m also maddened by the popular parts of pomp+circumstance. (Me complain about before!) and Blue Danube. Put stupid Here Comes Johnny Woff forra Waf and Eye! That’s.what.I.like.about.you! songs that might as well be thirty seconds in as many dumb ads as you want (that is, assuming you acted under any inhibition before), but leave the stuff someone actually worked on alone. If you can’t do any sword tricks, don’t bother me with your saber dance!
Or your spring snake symphony! It could easily have incorporated more Danubery, but instead it used the first part twice, implying that the second part does not even exist! Someone gets a punch in the nose.
Yes, so, it was some doofus who released a “spring snake” at each part of the music where you might think he would have done that. It looked really easy. I coulda do’d it. Toward the end interesting mechanical apparratusses made things more complicated, but the guy activating them was totally out of synchronisation with the [wrong] music by then so I could still probably have done it.
I can’t find a single mention online of “Spring Snake Symphony” that doesn’t mention the D. Letterman Late Show, so I probably saw the debut performance, and maybe it can be improved, but I doubt it will be. If I had a TV show I wouldn’t let someone do something that stupid if I hadn’t seen it first and confirmed that it was the kind of stupid I wanted to be associated with. I imagine Eric Buss is quite proud of himself.
I can’t blame software developers for focusing on new projects I don’t give three beans about when mass amounts of people besides myself are willing to give many more beans than three. My primary gripe at this time is with the few people willing to go to the trouble to make new levels, for old games, for free, who always feel compelled to out-impossible each other.
Do I? If I didn’t, could this have been avoided? I just wanted new levels.
I’d much prefer that to attempting to decipher some French “RPG” quack-job that from as best I can figure out isn’t that good with the best comprehension,
and inane Flash games that are even worse.
By the way, when I was going through a bunch of hacked metroid ROMs, just to see which changed this bit of text, a great joke occured to me. What is Samus’ favorite occult-influenced English heavuh metal rock band?
Black Zebeth!
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA H AH A HAH AH AH AHAH AHAH AH A HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA H
This reminds m whoopth. I forgot to undo the font tag. Good thing I caught that in time. Let me start again. This reminds me of oh gosh, I left the italics on too. Now then, this reminds me that… What reminded me of what? I forgot.
Oh, a couple of times, back on gigglebounce I copied long stretches of text about Timecube and I made the font really big and forgot to close the tags and the whole page got huge, and Timmy said it was like World 4 in Super Mario Brothers 3 and I edited the post but then the system told me I needed to “rebuild the files” but I couldn’t because I wasn’t an administrator, but later Hilary gave me administrator access because I was always whining about not being able to rebuild the files, but I never messed up the font again and I felt bad for mentioning it, and I still don’t know what “rebuild the files” means. I never have to rebuild the files here. I might need to rebuild this paragraph, though. Remind me later.
With Metroid, I understand that the one available editing machine does not allow for the altering of key locations or their specific functions, nor the creation of additional room types. The extent to which you can be original pretty much ends with stupid mazes. I understand that. No, it’s the Legend of Zelda nerds I’m mad at.
There’s a thing called… ehhh… pardon me, remembering how I ruined that page with a giant font has made me most unwell. I cannot continue.
oOH, here’s another one: what did Samus say after finding out that she had to go through a whole new zone to reach Ridley?
Hey, Norfair!
AH HA HAHAHA HA HA HAHA AHAH AHA HAH Aiche.
I feel better already.
Taste my wrath!
Graaaaaaaaargh!
Suffer for the crimes of your ancestors!
Ha ha ha, ho ho ho, hee hee hee, heh heh, heh…
. . . . . . . . . . . .
I have depressed myself. I have to go lie down.
You think I’m –oh no! Not again!
Ehhh. You think I’m impressed by your exclusive provision contract with a base-ball team? How about supplying them with actual baseball equipment? I want to know who the official sox supplier is. There’s a title to be proud of. I bet if you promised you could provide socks without patches you’d be let right in. I see you have Ws and Bs, Mr. Mason. Do you supply Cs and Ks? It is apparent to me those are desperately needed.
I didn’t even know the players had offices, let alone that the offices are in such constant need of replacements as to require an official truck to supply the offices. I bet W.B. Mason thinks this is a real feather in his cap, except he doesn’t wear a cap and the only caps relevant to this situation don’t have a place for feathers anyway. I’d provide a picture of W.B. Mason but I’ve lately become wary of displaying corny merchandising characters of sensitive regional businesses on this page.
If your children are so fussy that they demand meat shaped like characters which remotely resemble vegetables, perhaps you should try feeding them actual vegetables.
Likewise, if they insist on this sort of thing, yet one more reason to boycott Nestlé, I recommend serving them actual swamp.
Getting back to the other box, though, which on any other day would be the most frightful picture I displayed, I never understood how it was ever considered an appealing notion to eat small versions of fictional characters, vegetable shaped or otherwise. I once had a big cookie shaped like the head of The Monster, Akayay Frankenstein and… it was a good cookie, but I felt bad about eating the poor bloke’s head. It didn’t help that it appeared to be a sort of sad and confused Frankenstein. And why not? His head, which I have to assume has already seen its share of trauma, having been assembled from bits of other heads and forced to accept a completely different brain than it’s used to, has now been severed, flattened, shrunken and coated in sugar. Poor Frankenstein. And then there was the time Burger King inexplicably made its chicken tenders™ be shaped like the Rugrats cartoon characters (which I gathered from circumstantial promotional evidence and not the shapes themselves). At least vegetables are other types of food. Rugrats are neither rug nor rat, and half as appetizing as neither. Never you mind that I was embarrassed to suddenly get these things, they were so frightful that I had to eat them without looking at them or placing a big enough grasp on them that my fingers became aware of the shapes, and that was quite depressing, if I recall with accuracy.
And maybe you think “good, serves you right, cowardly carnivore. If you fill your fat, jiggling abdominal sack with the tortured, mutilated product of wasted, captive lives you deserve to be miserable.” So what, then, excuses
?I think someone in my house bought these once, –I don’t know, maybe the store was out of every other frozen potatish product–
which reminds me, I want to dump this whole four pound bag’s contents on to a tray, heat it up and then see how long it takes me alone to eat that all. I may eat nothing else nor pursue other eat-unrelated activities prior to finishing. If I don’t die in the process I’ll definitely jump or intentionally fall out of a window afterwards, assuming I can lift myself up and through one. I took this picture so I could tell you that.
But the SMILES, thankfully, they were consumed before I ever saw them, but, as often happens, one secretly escaped from the bag en-route to the oven and I saw it later and nearly screamed.
Imagine if the mask from Super Mario Brothers 2* that chases the people who steal its key was waiting for you in your freezer, except you hadn’t stolen a key and had no reason to be expecting it. Also, instead of sinister dents where its eyes should be there were just empty round voids with nothing behind them. Like somebody hole-punched right through their nigh 2 dimensional heads. And then I think about there being some vat in Idaho filled entirely with little potato flavored eyes and ewwwwwwwwn. These things have been around for a few years, which alas means some people somewhere are buying them on a fairly regular basis. Well, stop it!