But Flavor Flaiv, he’s the voice of a soda can or something. He’s not trying to sell his rumored rap skill anymore. Now it’s just
I actually didn’t know he was involved with this ad. I always saw it muted and was just bothered by the fact that the beverage receptacle appeared to be manipulating its detabbed region for the purposes of speech. Thankfully, 8 different youtube users have uploaded their own personal vanity-stamped editions of this ad, always being sure to note that Flavor Flav is involved.
Look at this, the guy is EMBARRASSED that his can is talking like Flavor Flav. You may think no, it’s just because he’s in a TV college lecture hall, but after the can is uncovered it talks in a different voice and nobody is bothered.
See? All better!
Regardless of Flav content, I would not drink out of a soda can with a mouth, much less through its mouth. How do I know it won’t drink me instead? And do I want to drink, regardless of what out of, a substance which imbued an inanimate aluminium can not just with the ability to speak, but through the rapid physical alteration of matter necessary for an aluminium framed orifice to move like a mouth? I should be glad it doesn’t have teeth. But I wonder if that’s only because it passes so much soda.
Oh, also, I saw an advertisement for The Mummy 3 which claimed it was “beyond imagination.” How did they think of it, then? They could not possibly have! Therefore, the story is true. And by extension, surely, the preceding The Mummy films (Abbott and Costello could not have met it otherwise). It also follows that fellow Brendar Fraser brainbusters Bedazzled, Monkeybone and Looney Tunes Back in Action are all true stories (and Daffy Duck is a real person), and so Space Jam is as well. And so I think it goes without saying that
I saw a Dr Pepper soda advertisement recently which I found alarming. No, not the one which was my first “dr pepper” search result, Zon Tayday confirming my suspicions that people have been giving him money to be further publicly made fun of despite his lack of everything. But I will complain at length about it anyway.
The “song” actually starts with lines about him being on the internet and getting money. Yeah, and for what? For being a ridiculous doofus incapable of giving any legitimate enrichment through his entertainment aspirations. The “song” is shorter and just slightly more non-horrible-soundy than the old, but only because people who Yad Yazton obviously learned nothing from have produced the heap out of it. And I’d hardly say this proves any fool can be picked off the street, placed in a controlled environment and made to seem like a competent artist to those with as much competence, because we already knew that. It’s always been that way. How is Yaya Tzond so different than an A. Idol winner/loser, then? Answer: he isn’t, and I’m sick of that.
They’ve got him goofed up on a throne surrounded by nameless ladies with dress priorities contrary to his own, a la a previous year’s public contract trainwreck, Flavor Flave, who has also done a Dr Pepper ad, albeit in a different form I will discuss with myself later. Oh, I will! But this, here, is a man whose biggest creative touch to his own, self-made music videos is using the annotation function to ad extra ads to fill in the temporary commercialism void.
The only reason to watch this silly person in front of a microphone for three minutes is to see those ads. Evidently that appeals to a great deal of people. Yoy Zandat is one of few recordy people whose brief, identical telephone-noises heard repeatedly throughout the day when combined accurately represent the experience of hearing the full song. But hopefully no one ever calls you. For their sake.
And if you’re wondering about “charity album” tagged on to the first clip, it’s just 16 yet dopier remixes of the original dopey song far too many people have heard before. The provided video has (very loud) sniplets of them all, all with the initial vocals incorporated and beeptrack represented in some way, with Mr. Yellowroom himself at both ends telling you about all his websites.
Yes, Babastank exists and is involved, and Of COURSE that’s a myspace link at the right, hovering above print I’m used to seeing in email I delete.
The actual charity aspect expired 30 days after the video was posted and was for eh half the, one assumes, scant proceeds to go toward the Electronic Frontier Foundation, which while apparently a decent cause is nothing that makes me feel heelish about complaining about supporters of for unrelated reasons (longtime unaware nemesis Robin Williams has a couple of those). Charity is supposed to be about helping others, and as a puzzlewit who but for the internet’s tendency to enshrine things nobody likes –if he had been a better musician, we still wouldn’t know about him–, the preservation of electronic anything seems more than a bit in Oyz Nadyat’s own best interest. If you believe EFF is worth giving your money to, I suggest you give money to it, and not risk encouraging Zat Donyay to do anything that involves the continued presence of his profile statement of his lack of piano and voice training. If he wants to be a clown that’s fine, but I don’t think he thinks he is a clown.
If Yatz Yonad made an attempt to assure me that the other half went to the team of remixers and not his own five second keyboard loop making grasp-digits… I’d still dislike it because all they’ve done is apply annoying noisy filters over something that was already unlistenable. Any good accomplished by donating half your sales to a charity is undone by distributing hard prints of an album that’s 48+ minutes of Chocolate Rain. There are people with actual digital audio composition/manipulation talent on the internet, and you’re generally not going to find them on a video site. A site where the most prolific and appreciated musicians sequence popular tunes for Mario Paint, an underpowered novelty tool, at best, 15 years ago,
that someone has made a special tool to encourage the online ubiquity of.
And you win again, internet. Would you believe it’s not long enough? FIVE STARS ANYWAY.
I was dead before you got here.
In summary: I need much better people to be jealous of.
Fleeplezeep.
Motor-driven lawnmower-ing is annoying to be aware of and about as fundamentally justifiable as lawns in themselves, but weed-whacking can occasionally be tolerable if an observer pretends the object carried is actually a [rather loud] metal-detector. What are you doing! There is no treasure buried in my yard! You look silly! Obviously this is even better if the one who whacks weeds happens to be dressed like a space alien. They studied us from space but didn’t quite figure everything out! Comical misunderstandings! Alternately, the whackist might be a ghostbuster specializing in cricket ghosts.
Also, apparently “weed whacker” is a brand name and the device I speak of in its generic form is actually a string trimmer. Why didn’t I know that prior to now? And if my circumstances prevented me from encountering anyone who could clue me to my ignorance, surely I ought to have thought my whacky terminology was needlessly wacky.
Hey, I made a funny.
I dispute that the motion picture Mamma Mia will have me dancing in the aisles, if indeed that’s what the opinion-less sentence fragment is accusing. I have never “danc[ed] in the aisles” one time in my entire life. And were that to inexplicably attempt to change, it would surely fail, as none of the cinemaplexoids I see around here even have aisles. The possibility that this might merely suppress the urge until the next occasion on which I encountered an aisle, such as at a supermarket or Gilligan’s Aisle, at which point I would begin flubbaging about in a most embarrassing and ungraceful fashion, that is reason enough to never see the film. I do not need that in my life at this point.
BEST GAS. Do not be fooled by that impostor, GOOD GAS, and I needn’t acknowledge the shameful pretender DECENT GAS. The gas here is better than all gas elsewhere.
Appropriately, it is now open for gas. I tell you, business was slow at Best Gas before it started selling gas. People just didn’t get it.
From earlier: I will tell you something possibly interesting later.
Ehhh, no, apparently I have to go somewhere today, too, so I will not be telling you anything.
There is important business to tend at. Those people are lined up and this ad was filmed a week ago. Imagine how many are there now! I shall have to make many challenges.
Seriously, I thought Estelle Getty was like a-hundred and twenty.
I will think of her every time I don’t purchase beef jerky.
Addendum: content controlled food-product packaging is less of a threat to humanity than Rubbaducks, especially ones which ally themselves with antisocial prefabricated mug covers. Yerbofe has spoken.
Apparently this nation is in the midst of a cookie shortage.
Have you seen these things? They put a couple little, air-filled cookies in a bag, put a few bags of that in a box you could fit a pair of shoes in and charge you as if the box was full. There’s probably more weight in shiny plastic in there than anything edible.
This example I really wouldn’t mind so much if it was priced for what it contains and there wasn’t such a plastic-to-cookie ratio. But without that there’d be no money incentive for businesses to claim they had the solution to your cookie issue and pretend to offer it to you. And there’s always plastic. There’s more plastic than ever and people still weigh more weight than ever. Maybe they should try eating plastic.
Again with the 100 Calories (which due to thoughtless terminology creation is equal to 100,000 lowercase calories)! Calories aren’t fat, you know. They are units of energy. While certainly excess energy can be harmful, in itself that is not the problem, and its presence need not indicate lack of nutritive value. Your problem might be soda and cookies. Or maybe I just wanted to show that I know what Calories are because it makes me seem like I know lots of things even though I only know a few things about Calories.
Yes, so, many major soda brands now market half sized cans. There may be occasional situations under which this is called for, but in general what you’re going to end up with is somebody just taking two cans, and then who will adorn our Froot Loops boxes? Alright, marmite, let’s say you’re trying to “cut back” and you don’t want to feel obligated to finish your whole drink (and if that’s the case I invite you into my home to see that many people don’t feel obligated to do that at all, hint hint accidentally knocked over 2/5 full caffiene free diet pepsi why is that here I don’t even drink that broken keyboard wailing tears), why are there half sized water bottles?1
Water has zero calories. No one ever foiled their health as a result of consuming 16 ounces of water every day. The only way to get dead prematurely drinking water is to be specifically allergic to it or to imbibe such a very large amount that you win admission to a fraternity, and I have to think any other liquid would do it just as well.
But some people are always going to be helpless.
1Ehhh, assuming there is reason to buy brand name pre-bottled water in any size in a section of a nation in which sanitary water is available on-tap, which that picture was taken in. How long before oxygen is being sold back to us?
How long before “we” think it’s a good idea, I mean. And that charging 20 dollars for little bottles of an essential basic component of life isn’t scummy, even in the unlikely case there’s reason to assume both that it’s possible to trap pure oxygen in a little can and that they’re doing it. They don’t list the price for the magic ogo water, which suggests to me it’s either laughably ludicrous, even in context, or of indeterminate legality.
Oh, is that why!
Have you considered increasing the oxygen content of its imbibing fluid?
Yoderhunt.
How deep does WHAT go? And why is that man frowning? Do I have to stay overnight? I swear I don’t know how that got there!
Why is this the first result? It’s scandalous! People looking for information on cowabunga may not have time to seek out a second link!
You know what impresses no one? Saying “bling” at all, much less as a verb form of a fake noun derived from a fake verb. Yes, bling actually refers to bright light reflecting off of complicated jewelry. To bling one’s car one need merely drive past me when I’m in a restaurant and facing a window. All the time! I’m sick of it!
It sure is! And it sure was! Remember when everybody watched Heist? I almost did but luckily I saw this page that said it was the next big thing, so I decided to wait until it was the current big thing. I like big things when they are big.
You failed to remove all the multi-colored squares before your opponent. Crystal Tokyo is doomed.
Actually, I can’t even do that right.
I would like to tell you my participation in silly request drives was a single isolated occasion, but at this time the best I can say is that it was two isolated occasions. In the case reported upon today, I was not prompted, by Jumbi, for a subject matter demand, and so gave none, and expected, if anything, another nemitz. You just think you’re so popular, don’t you nemitz. Well ha fa, it isn’t you. Scoundrel.
Lepidoptera members are notorious for ignoring akimbo warnings
I wonder why I haven’t been drawing the ears like that. I’d rather have ALPSHE seem related to NEMITZ than THE dOPE, which currently has more similar ears. It shouldn’t, but it does.
On a past occasion today’s culprit also made the first item described here and on yet another occasion several related characters (and others which aren’t, so much) on, eh, notebook paper, but I do declare the recent upgrade went splendidly. I used to draw proto-bimshwellians on my own notebook paper, but they tended to be tiny enough that the notes did not feel threatened. Anything bigger doesn’t fit in the margin-areas and looks like it’s in [sideways] jail. And verily, many of my charges deserve to be in jail… otay, it may have uses. Perhaps you’re wondering why you should flimb that anyone drew any of them. And in that event you shouldn’t! I realize there’s little interest factor here to anyone but me. Elpse is not insta-fave material. Drawing these will not get you popular. I ma(d)e pictures for children at some school somewhere through an odd setup you also shouldn’t concern yourself with, but I can tell you that something which looks like pikachu gets a lot more attention and acknowledgment than, say, a delphin with laser eyes. Inserting dumb nemitz seemed but the slightest bit feasible and I did not try.
Posting other persons’ drawings of one’s own character-things is inspired by something within one’s-self similar, I believe, to that which prompts one to announce newly borne relatives or newly purchased automobiles. Surely you could not give a boken whether someone else depicted a dope nor if one of my cousins suddenly had childrens (and I seem to recall that one did at some point). Yet people on the internet announce these things as if they are interesting. Typically, they are not. Yes, at last, someone has blown the proverbial jiffypop dome off of online diarists’ aptitude for delivering needless information. It may simply seem inconceivable that anyone else would not be megenthralled, but surely they aren’t. Curious things, these human beings. Thankfully I neither know anyone who’s pregnant nor plan to become so myself within the foreseeable future.
Meanwhile, back at the original topic, I was fascinated to observe Jumbi claim to not hate elpse and that this was despite the irrational behavior the creature is shown to exhibit. First of all, I’m just glad anyone likes Elpse at all.1 I don’t remember, but I suspect what is perceived as elp’s general temperament is, or was unintended. There’s a certain way you come across if your response to someone’s words involves repeating them back, and that’s the only way it can happen if I want anyone else to know what stupid NEMITZ is saying. For example, why is c3po irritable? Not for being a poorly designed robot constantly tossed into situations requiring reflexes and agility it was designed without, not for never getting respect from non-robots. Just because of r2d2’s attitude. Imagine if r2d2 had to be carried around and could smile after doing something stupid. Elp’s biggest character flaw is liking NEMITZ.
1 I don’t know if was a result of society’s decreasing tolerance toward things that look like Ninja Turtles in the late 90s, but I drew the “elpse” imp occasionally for several years before making these dumb comics, and it always struck me as the least likely to be liked of the repeat-fiends.
Hopefully the vaguely familiar snake will not be returning.
So it’s come to this: on Wednesday, July 16, 2008, at approximately 10:52 pm, eastern regular time, I downloaded six ninja turtle games in less minutes than that. It would have been more but I had a few already. I don’t sincerely expect to get great use out of them but the fact that I acquired them is, in itself, alarming, and would be so even in the event it was totally legal. If I had stayed at Catholic school this is the sort of thing I’d have to tell the priest through the magical absolving upright sin drainage grate. I thought I hated ninja turtles. Because remember there was that oh wow, see, I don’t even want to talk about them. I must hate them.
Eh, beets.
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There is a nother artist meeting, on Thursday, at the same place as last time, and once again from 5 to 7 pm. I only have one picture there, though (everybody only has one), and if you’ve read this website with your eyes for any length of time you’ve surely seen it before. Additionally, if you actually are a resident of the new haven area you’d be better off coming to my own house to see… my junk, at least, because all my pictures from the previous showing are currently imprisoned within an oblong box on my porch.
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Page 22, it seems, of this. You may be surprised to learn that I do not own a ruler.
Now that I’ve thoroughly evaluated the situation I have realized I am better at writing about Nakio than most other topics.
It never ends.
Aw naw!
On the subject of Super Mario Brothers and invalids, in that thing which I wrote yesterday and not two years ago, I thought I would treat you to my favorite retarded rom-hack of that game, Super Wheelchair Mario. Not even brothers, just [Super] Wheelchair Mario. That Luigi is also available is an added bonus. Unlike the version I’ve had for years, which would only run in Nestical, because that’s the best, classiest emulator of all the times, I copied the changed graphics into a closer-to-functioning rom and passed the amazing on to you. It seems appropriate that a game about a guy in a wheelchair needs special assistance to be more accessible. I would commit a disservice to show numerous pictures of it with my special witty commentary when the game itself can be downloaded, played, and forgotten about in fifty-seven seconds.
Like so. Of course it’s zipped; Do you think I am made of kilobytes?!
Another of my favorites, though I don’t find it nearly as profound, is “Lesbian Tennis,” in which the women tennis players have their clothing drawn off, with large black pixel rectangles about their nipply and crotchal regions. See, you know they’re lesbians because they’re naked! It reminds me of a story Weekly World News printed maybe about 1997 (I actually have a stack of the things, never having thrown one out, but I fear to look through them (and not just because they themselves are beneath a stack of turn-of-the-century MAD magazines)) about a gay cow-boy. How can you tell he’s gay? Because he rides a horse while just wearing underwear, and, to a lesser extent, from his mustache.
Regarding the famous Super Nakio, he HAS to be naked. It’s part of his name. Naked is all he knows. He is impervious to clothing. Quite finkly, it would disgrace his family heritage were he to not be naked.
As an unfortunate post-script to this thing I wrote today and not one year and 364 days ago and did not forget about, I decided that you really needed a picture of Super Nakio in action, and I could not find it among the huge archive of asinine mario hacks I downloaded [fairly recently]. I then looked-over a presumably more recently updated rom site, and giggle-searched for the phrase “super nakio” or just “nakio” itself, perhaps hoping to find it mentioned in someone’s online resume. Ehhh, no dicks dice.* The only result I could find for it was this page in which somebody complains about someone searching for super nakio. I am always glad to help. But it is my sad conclusion that Super Nakio does not, in fact, exist. Not that there is a shortage of hacks in which Mario is naked, just none called “Nakio.” Alas.
First brought to my attention eight years ago on this page, it seemed to me perfectly reasonable to assume Nakio was real, and all this time I never for a moment considered the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he was not to be. There may be Super Naked Badminton, Naked Little Mermaid and Super Nazi Penis Cartel Freedom Fighters 3 (and there are), but no nakio. It is but a legend, a story of hope passed down from a harsher yet somehow more optimistic time. Nakio lives in our hearts, at least. Now I am upset and desire ice cream. *I also am ashamed and desire eggrolls.
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It was never my intention to have a Nakio eulogy at the top of my page for longer than a few hours, much less two days. But sometimes that’s just the way things are.
An all amelican Tintin movie has been threatened. I suppose this is in response to my occasionally stated indifference to the massive collection of garbage forgettable feature films made about potentially slightly less forgettable tv shows from previous decades. The opportunity to make a big public show of messing up something I like rarely presents itself. Something specific, I mean. Not like music or cultural identity.
If the movie is popular, it might lead to American popularity for the comics. And that might lead to others of its sort being translated to English and adequately distributed outside India. Although supposedly the Tintin was popular in Britain, so I guess the popularity would have to exceed that, and given Amelican’s distrust of anything over a year old plus the French, that happening strikes me as unlikely. Of course Tintin is Belgian, but Americans also distrust distinctions made regarding nations they don’t trust.
I read that Tintin (2009 film) will be neither actor-acted nor cartoon-animated. It will be some strange motion-capture hybrid of the two.
Weh, I just hope it doesn’t end up looking like SKYLAND, and that if it does there won’t be any dance scenes.
(I don’t really know what Skyland is beyond that this is a scene from it and that it was unsettling when I witnessed it.) Even still it won’t be as creepy as Cars. Fichus, I wish I’d put this up when I wrote it because I don’t want to start thinking about those cars again. I’ll be nice about the [newer] robot movie and [presumably first of many] rat mov[ies] but those cars are nasty.
I also hope Tintin isn’t “updated” to fit current technology and fashion and linguistic trends. Though author Hergé was good about always having Tintin in a current make of automobile, airplane or water-traversing vessel, I don’t trust anyone else, much less politically and commercially-conscious Americans to take on the task of deciding how far that ought to go. That’s the sort of thing that’s almost never done well. I don’t want Tintin to have an iPhone or to make jokes about myspace, that’s what I’m saying. That didn’t ruin the Iron Man movie, but definitely a couple seconds. And it’s rather hard enough to take Optimus Prime seriously when he’s not talking about E-Bay. But by virtue of being magical gimmicky robot-men, they’re more inherently updatable anyway. Tintin stories rely a lot on travel taking a long time and people not being able to look things up on the internet and finding suspicious crab tins when they get out to crank their Model-Ts or whatever.
Co-director Peter Jackson is from New Zealand, yes, but one of his standard contract stipulations is the creation of a role involving Andy Serkis clambering around semi-erect and grunting which doesn’t fit in here at all unless we’ve really modernized Tintin and Captain Haddock’s relationship.
Not that I delude myself with the notion that homogayality is anything new, but I like to think those two would go about it in a more dignified manner. Tintin, after all, got his start in Le Petit Vingtième, a Catholic-themed newspaper supplement for children, so it follows that Tintin would be very repressed in certain matters. What is modern is just the common occurrence of blatant gays characterized primarily by the fact that they are gay. Or the public perception that any amiable male characters of fiction who coexist without apparent female love-interest not only must be gay, over each other, but must have this pointed out regularly. Aside from any of that, I think if anyone, the Captain is in love with Professor Calculus.
The Calculus Affair indeed!
*I’m told there was a later installment on the playstation with the exact same perogatives except in 3-D, as if the sprite animation wasn’t the only thing they got sort of right.
On the subject of Peter Jackson, perhaps I may expect good things. His movie King Kong reminded me of a Tintin book, specifically Flight 714, because of the considerable amount of time spent on the ship and then the disappointingly quick wrap-up, sudden skimming-over of details and forgetting of certain characters because whoopth! Almost outta time! As for what the enormous gorilla was expecting to do with the lady he was carrying around, if he’d revealed himself as a space alien (who needed an ultra high point to launch himself into space from), the plausibility could only have improved. As it was, it made about as much sense as
Here’s some more stuff that doesn’t make sense, helpfully highlighted to assist you in avoiding it.
Also, apparently that’s a flower bed.
This is why I could never be successful. I’d worry too much about consistency and feasibility to try anything grand and in the end someone would complain that I depicted a non-existent variety of sock anyway. How would I ever recover from that?
In summary, I have serious Tintin issues which I have no one to discuss with. Obviously.
Oh, to share something special with someone!
Because I suspect this topic requires further investurgation.
Additional reading: Tintin contre Batman, cbz format, completely unofficial, 99% not English.
While I was away from the computer… -actually, I was right next to it but it was off, and then I went outside and lay against a car hood in the rain because I’m a broken human- I remembered that the script writer is allegedly Uklandish. But they’re not all perfect, either. They invented Teletubbies, Battletoads, Mad Cow Disease and Chip Butty, after all. That’s right, they invented mad cow disease. Every Blitish person came together to put on white lab-jackets and bifocals and poured colored liquids between funny-shaped glass bottles until something exploded and then they invented mad cow disease because they were fed up with all the bovine indifference to their brilliant masterful taunts.
Another page of this, eventually, (or immediately) a bit dull, a bit redundant. I wanted to squeeze some more panels in there, but I know better than that by now. It’s good that I know better than something by now.