I wouldn’t want to use internet inside a place that smells like a Subway Restaurants. I don’t think I could go inside anyway after Jared caught me spying on him. Actually, it feels more like he’s spying on me and that’s worse.
Relevant to the televised material I recently, illogically feared being wronged by: I appreciate that Saturday Night Live’s legendary expensive, pointless, sketch-ruining guest star budget saw fit to bring in a harmless, w-list goof like former pornography mogul Jared Fogle, but it still would have been funnier if they just cast some random dork wearing glasses in the part. As it would have been with William Shatner, just not necessarily with the glasses. Really, how much is NBC paying Darrel Hammond to appear in one sketch per show? I don’t think I’ve even heard Bella Corolli speak on more than four occasions in the last 12 years; anybody could have done that impression and I wouldn’t have known how accurate it was. I think Hammond may actually just have been hired into the cast the last time this guy was considered relevant enough to put in a sketch. That’s how long ago it was. I like funny impressions more than supposedly accurate ones, anyhow. But even then there’s only so much Regis Philbin, real or otherwise, that is tolerable.
I didn’t see this week’s (now last week’s) because through some unusual for me circumstances I was instead watching the film Waking Life, which has successfully displaced Harry Nilsson’s The Point as the most boring movie I’ve ever seen. However, I had a picture I wanted to use for that complaint, and having occupied a bit over five eighths of my allotted, purchased web space has somehow managed to fill it beyond capacity and I can upload no more files without first deleting others (ftp access gives a more concise “disk full” explanation) and I’ll probably have to spend a week filing official complaints, after which, assuming I am successful, in the company of winners like American Carol and Beverly Hills Chihuahua, an underexposed art-ish film from six years ago won’t seem like such a big deal.
Clearly, I am a tremendous drain on resources.
As long as I mentioned THAT program, here’s something from six months ago. At the time I was of the opinion that I mentioned that I watched that show and that it bothered me too often. Evidently I still do. Let us hope this is the end of that. Let us also hope I become independent enough that I no longer need to ask permission to have hope.
March 8, 2008, I even dated it because I anticipate forgetting about things now.
Did you see this Saturday Live Night sketch? I did, but I did not understand. It makes no sense whatsoever if you don’t also watch Project Runway every single week -notwithstanding the intense irony of me saying this in the context of another tv program lots of people don’t watch-, because all it’s doing is imitating someone who was on Project Runway. Not even in the context of making fun of the show, just someone who
There was another sketch about Daniel Plainview from the feature film There Will be Blood. If you haven’t seen the movie, it’s not funny and just seems random. And if you have seen the movie, it’s kind of stupid. If you see the sketch and THEN see the movie, you’ll probably get annoyed at suddenly realizing “oh, THAT’s what that meant. Ha ha?” Guess which I did! And the popcorn was less than satisfactory, too. These sketches literally have no value to somebody who doesn’t obsesively keep up with every stupid new movie and tv show because there is so very little to the sketches outside of imitation. They cannot stand on their own and will make no sense in a year. A program that sells its reruns for decades afterward should be more conscious of that.
I liked when Will Ferrell would be Haray Caray or Robert Goulet or somebody I, and presumably most of the audience, knew nothing about and make such fools of himself as them that I wanted to know who they were. The current showmasters just give the cast tapes of celebrities and say “here, do this.” Fred Armisen, who actually looks and sounds funny when he’s talking normally as himself, seems to almost be in pain as Barack O’Bama, just because he’s trying so hard to sound like Baraq Obomma
I’m not going to say “time to cancel the show” because I’ve probably said that before and there’s always some yahoo saying “OK, NOW’s the time.” No, dorf. It was time in 1994, it was time in 1998, it was time in 2005. This show is an incumbent senator. Jay Leno will be forced off the air for good before this show will, and that will probably only happen when he dies at 109 50 years from now. It will have to be really bad for really long before it gets cancelled. It’s recovered so many times people expect it to recover.
And don’t forget (unless your mental wellbeing requires it) all the home/office/youtube “comedians” who thrive on emulating the trashiest aspects of the program, who’ve never had a creative thought their entire lives, who see the Saturday Night Living as “institution” and buy the best-ofs on dvd and say to themselves “if it’s on Essennell it must be funny! It’s a comedy showww!” Until THEY stop watching, it will endure. Until they rush to the “MadTV vs. SNL” topic they started on imdb.com and switch their vote and change their arguments into “this message has been deleted”s, it will go on.
Unless you vote now!
≡=– –=Ξ=– –=Ξ=– –=Ξ=– –=Ξ=– –=Ξ=– –=Ξ=– –=≡
The time was insufficient, but I successfully lobbied for more days. So.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
I only have a day remaining [to complete a christmascard picture] and I fear it will be insufficient for my needs. I have special needs.
I need to correct the feet of the purple thing and the green thing, make the red one look less constipatory, figure out the background some more, decide if I absolutely must designate every aluminium siding piece, possibly place a string of tacky lights along the house-edge thing, and ideally keep myself from finding anything else wrong with it that seems fixable. If you have a helpful suggestion that’s not hard to implement eh I should have asked yesterday. I’m not into that whole whip in progress or whatever it is sort of thing. That’s not professional. And usually I’d say “neither am I” but massively jpg-exporting, uploading and image-code-entering unfinished rubbish seems like a fairly easy thing to not do. In this case I just don’t like having gripes about dumb tv shows at the top of my page, if anywhere. Ooh I’ve seen several people claim that horizontally flipping an image can be heap big helpful in correcting vague errors. I don’t like flipping so I just rotated the thing and hopefully that’s enough. And I don’t think I’ve turned it back around yet.
I had planned an important Popeye update, but other things have come up.
For some reason I only have until the first week of October to design and complete a christmas “holiday” card this year for whoever I did it for last year, and for some other reason the person who was supposed to tell me that didn’t and so I just found out today. The last time I saw that person was August 29, and of course Christmas Season doesn’t start until August 31. I don’t have much time to think of and consider ideas, so if any person happens to see this within a reasonable period I would appreciate input as to which of these seems the most usable. Otherwise, just laugh at my inefficient creative process and annual failure to empathize.
Last year’s cards are eventually mentioned here.
1 “Nemitz” misunderstands the point of exchanging presents and offers up “Mortimewde” (bow tie animal) to “Elpse” instead of a cartoon giftwrapped box. This doesn’t work primarily because nobody would know that horrible monster always wears a big bow tie ribbon and secondarily for other reasons.
On a less pressing note, is it stranger for the elpse imp to wear a coat and no pants (with shirt left to mystery) or for it to be fully clothed but the nemitz [fur-covered] one nude except for a scarf? Or should they both be fully clothed? It seems odd to do that. And yet it also seems a shame to waste an opportunity to put silly accessories on them.
2 and 3 essentially the same, but the circumstances differ.
In a proper version, the first would more obviously present the idea of a little, pitiful ice pond surrounded by non-navigable terrain. In the second, I wonder if it’s scientifically feasible to freeze your own wading pool, and without destroying it. And if you could do this, why not ice down the road? I don’t know enough to assume ice-skates would not properly grasp such a thin layer of it. And yes, if I go ahead with this I fully intend to use my neighbors’ house as a model. Oddly enough it’s easier to use that than my own but that’s not even why.
I suppose I could always just use the old picture these would be follow-ups to because it hasn’t been publically displayed at all.
6 And so we see there is no shortage of pitiful places to not skate. This is on a beach, in case you aren’t familiar with the international symbol of monochrome sand texture, random black dots. The only other major distinguishing feature of the local beach I can think of is a big black rubber pipe that connects to the septic system or something and I am not sure how normal it is to have one of those (but I included it anyway). I thought this particular scene might not “connect” with people outside “connecticut,” but then I realized that it doesn’t have to because these won’t be for sale, probably even outside New Haven, if anywhere.
4 The Riddler hangs question mark candy canes on a deliberately christmas style tree. Not incredibly inventive but it would look so stupid that it might work. I just wouldn’t feel proper charging people money for a picture I made with The Riddler central to it. Also, I would have to learn to draw The Riddler. That could hold things up. I assure you The Riddler will be wearing pants in any event. Suspenders could hold things up.
5 We seem to be one ski short.
I keep thinking people associate ice skating with christmas more than skiing. And yet this seems off with skates. Regardless, the joke is a bit weak because bombs are funnier (and curiously, easier to relate to) than tails are. The same moral question as before applies to the clothing. If I made this I would probably reverse the creature’s positions. My personal “preview” pictures are often backwards, I’ve noticed. I usually notice in time to do something about it.
I suspect people would much rather buy something that featured pog (the irrelevant middle figure) than the other two but eh.
——————
It occurs to me that none of these are things anybody would want send to someone, certainly not in observance of a federal holiday, but it didn’t when I posted them here. Obviously. My Veterans Day cards, lacking any traditionally associated weather conditions, will be even less relevant.
——————-
And this immediately after I accused people of being impulsive in their need to exhibit visually unimpressive rubbish and demand attention for it. The main difference is that I feel like a terrible person whatever happens.
This would work better as the second or third in a sequence.
Maybe in the first the foreground imp finds a big lump of snow and decides to shape spheres from it, and only in the second is the background scheme revealed. But I will do what I have to do once I figure out what that is.
I wondered if freezing water in balloons was possible, and it is, and supposedly people do throw them at each other sometimes, though they may prefer to remove the balloon from the ice first. Ah ha! But nemitz is such a dumb scoundrel it did not realize the water would freeze, ha ha? Iygm, what am I doing? Maybe those creatures are the problem. Would anybody even want to commemorate their favorite Jesus Day with wicked smiling servants of Satan, these frightful yak-beasts from the foulest depths of eternal suffering? Of course they would not give me decent inspiration.
——————————
It was suggested to me that I do something like this. Hopefully it will be deemed acceptable by whoever is intended to accept it.
======================equal signs this time
I was not able to discuss the terms of the image with the other party and I know it won’t be available again until Monday, and so, in the absence of official, external doubt, I spent much of this day (this day being Friday, and not the Wednesday the above date seems to suggest) constructing a prettier version of the possibility immediately above here.
And yet I keep thinking that one was a bad idea and that no one will like it. Which is normal, but generally that is in regards to things that I just make because I feel like making them.
Perhaps this will be my own personal Adventures of Pluto Nash. It would be nice to think things could not get worse. The down[er] side to that would be that only the likes of Norbit and Meat Dave remain in my future, and I don’t have a never ending avalanche of Shreck Bucks to support my life’s pursuit of worthless art.
Did you know the emmy awards were a few days ago? I didn’t even know they were doing that this year. I, personally, only watch the Latin Emmies.
—————————eh-
Addendah: Obviously, maybe, perhaps, I have off-internet bad issues at the moments which are affecting the whininess quotient of the words I type at people. Now that we’re aware of that you shouldn’t have to worry about them until I start getting specific. If I were hunting for pity, and I thought I could get it, I wouldn’t waste it on the stupid pine cone picture. I have disappointments I’m proud of slightly.
Have you ever made something and thought “gosh, this is boring. no one will like it.” and so then start adding things and thinking “yes!” “oh indeed!” “that is good!” “much more interesting!,” get to what seems to be the end and suddenly realize what you have created is utterly meritless and unappealing? Yes, all the time.
I may be allergic to success. In general, but specifically regarding this, it occurred to me that several of the people who admit to looking at my internet pictures have a special appreciation for drawings of scoundrel anthropomorph cartoon lizard folk. One part of my mind thinks “great, that’s easy, I can draw those, easily, and please people.” Another part resents how easy that is, sees it as giving in to something less than pure, and insists that I take action to make the picture “funny,” or, failing that, ugly. Or rather, the ugliness was supposed to be funny, but really it’s just ugly. Perhaps I think that if distinguishing intellectuals won’t like it, nobody else should be able to, either. With that sort of irrational discipline I ought to be able to excel in all sorts of miserable jobs, and yet I never have.
Note that this is not the “good” ugly. Where everybody has face-width mouths and round teeth and perfect elliptical bulging eye-balls with tiny pupils at the exact center and occasional boneless limbs and they always shout crude caps lock intentionally broken English and everything looks like it smells bad and I hate them a lot. I reckon people will have moved on from that in a few years but I will always know I hated it now.
I remember, in third grade, everybody thought I had tourette syndrome and they didn’t like me much.
If my understanding of the stereotypical implications of that diagnosis are correct, I think I wouldn’t have liked me either. There may be additional reasons not to like me. And that is before factoring in mass thumbnail-theft.
As for why I removed the pineapple, it was not, in fact, because it specifically reminded me of the time, years ago, that I saw this image and it shorted out my brain.
No, silly. I just have a good mind for business.
The fundamentals of our economy are strong. At least as they apply to naked sumo blacksmiths.
If it was the former reason, that, along with my other findings, might mean that perhaps my second biggest obstacle toward achieving personal, stupid picture fulfillment after my own inadequacy is letting the World’s Largest art website influence me in any way at all and if I know what’s good for me I’ll stay the gack away from it. Blaming it for my failures will accomplish nothing but temporarily quelling my immortal hunger to blame things. And it is not as if I submit my digital rights for management by the itunes myspace idol alliance whenever I want melodic noise to hear. It’s not as if that one time I mistakenly thought I needed itunes for something it worked more than once after each time I reinstalled it. It’s not like I’m confident I’ve finally removed every hidden bit of sinistry itunes also installed in addition to itself but forgot to take with it when it left.
Ehhh, I’d hate to get to a point where I stop finding anything inherently amusing about pineapples entirely out of misplaced spite for the lack of second language comedy expertise of someone named after Skifree who is one of the precious few users of an internet increasingly dominated by impulsive, vulgar children who keeps me, at twenty five years of months, from being regarded as “old.”
Does Carmen Electra really get paid to stand around and be met? I mean, I believe that could be the extent of her talent, I’m just surprised there would be adequate patronage to make hiring bodyguards feasible. In this shot, the guards have just finished forcibly removing a man who attempted to Meet Carmen Electra. Maybe they were his body guards.
Other than sharing a name with an American Gladiator, what’s special about Carmen Electra? Apart from ads, all I know her from is… ads for everyone’s favorite space alien humanity-miming infiltrator film series, which doesn’t even have a proper collective name to refer to it by, which is as considerate as it is watchable. It is worth noting, further, that I am just as likely to elect (ha uh) to meet Carmen Electra as the Spartans. Which is not to say I hate her as a person just for having a loathsome career, I just don’t believe the sort of display depicted above happens. I used to live near Garry Trudeau and I never saw him just standing outside next to sign, and he’s probably actually worth talking to about things.
Ehhh, are you in position to be SPOOFING anything, regardless of how lazily, if you abet fashion model acting careers? I am told the latest venture, the deviously titled Disaster Movie, (haw haw, let’s see em make fun of us now) also featured someone named “Kim Kardashian,” who’s not even culturally relevant enough to have someone pretend to be her irrelevantly. If I thought Tila Tictacdoughquila wasn’t worthy of awareness, then I was right. So Kim Kardashian seems similar. Supposedly she has sisters named Khloe and Kourtney. No, really. Together they protect Golbez at the Tower of Zot.
The advertisement above, though, seems to be an ad for gum. I hate gum. It is grosser than lipstick. It is not, however, grosser than flavored chap-stick.
Blatantly, creepily flavored lip paste that costs extra money. I can’t even come up with a joke explanation for why the pair of Os in the name are joined together. It did, though, successfully make me recall the “undivided cell” aspect of the last chap stick display I did not approve of. Doesn’t my approval matter to them?!
But this, it’s meant to go on your lips, not in your mouth. Why not just squeeze out the whole log and eat that?
Afterward you can listen to your favorite two minutes of frightful brain vibrations as you attempt to scrub chemical desert out of your mouth. I don’t know what Napoleon Dynamite might be singing about
any more than I know what he’s doing that needs two separate screens and my repeated finger expressed authorization to proceed with. Maybe I can ask the penguins.
Marching, at least, is a tangible goal, I suppose. I prefer not to think of what the Let’s Pilate lady is doing to her DS. I’m glad they’re not called Gameboy anymore because I was going to say “today it is a Gameman” and that would have been tasteless, don’t you think?
Hey,
remember when horrible licensed video games at least had a point in theory?
Are we marketing these entirely on ashamed curiosity now? Whose idea was this?!
Uh no, actually. Not this time. I’m busy trying to find a distributor for my MILF IN ’08 campaign buttons!
Well I certainly hope we find out soon. Things could get ugly.
This one is sort of frightening itself. When does it stop, ehhh?
regarding the website item immediately prior to this one:
Yusk, was I really that mad about “milf?” Jim, why won’t you talk to me? It’s been almost three weeks. I think I’ve finally gone fully psychotic. We need to get me eating some mad pills, yo. I was obsessed with the fear that if I did not complete and upload that there soon, the season premier of Saturday Night Live would steal my points and I’d look like I was copying it, and badly, because despite talking big rubbish about it for years I obviously still watch it. That is not a fear a proper person has. Nevermind that this is national news which people, among them superior satirists who don’t take the whole summer off, have been discussing for quite a while now, and the closest anyone has come to accusing me of plagiarism was suggesting that the frightfully proportioned proto-dopes in my ill-everythinged Doom levels looked like Pikmins, which I had up to then not seen and had assumed to be more retroactive pikachu ancestors I didn’t need to worry about.
In the end it didn’t matter because I failed to get the piece out before 9:34.24 pm, and I checked and there was only one recorded access to “milf.png” between then and 11:45 pm eastern normal time other than my own so it is still plausible that I watched the first sketch and shoved it through an eemo filter in the fifteen minutes before Sunday. Or worse, I wrote it right now and just changed the date. Even if nobody thinks that, just the fact that I thought they would means I need/have some real problems. Even if nobody who watches that show also reads this, because it is essential for my survival to pretend everybody reads this.
Inexplicable topic change:
Regarding the recently deceased Don LaFontaine, I found it odd, and I found it odd that I found it odd, that a man who had been dead for three days was talking to me through my television about movies which wouldn’t be released for another three. Including making specific reference to the near future, as in “starts Friday!” or “starts tomorrow!” You can’t say it starts tomorrow because you were dead yesterday! The only way you can mean that would be if it actually started the day before yesterday, but it starts tomorrow! Of course he recorded those in advance, but it was still weird! But now I find it even odder, hearing “now playing” ads in a different voice that’s trying to sound like his voice, as if he’s Porky Pig or something and a new guy can just take over. Yes, but no!
Clarification:
My problem isn’t just that Disney suddenly has a food brand, but that it’s a major food brand, getting prominent placement in a super-market where one of the primary features is usually cited that all the big brands are there. Also, how many other companies make ravioli and raisins? Would you buy a Ragu brand graphing calculator? More to the point, if Ragu made graphing calculators, would you expect to see these in a store without a special obligation to sell every type of graphing calculator?
Christmas Enzyte Watch: last sighted August 29. By Yuri, this will stop it. And when I say watch I don’t mean actually watch the ads. Not even for a second, not even with the sound mute. They’ve come on so many times I can detect the specific analog frequency of their scan lines.
I hate this sort of thing. The police shouldn’t have to come get you. They shouldn’t be endangering themselves to remove you from an incorrigible force of nature you knew was coming. Even if your miserable inebriation shanty is spared from destruction, inevitably some people are going to be in serious trouble elsewhere and state employees will have to waste time checking on others who insisted on being jackasses for no reason. You couldn’t not drink beer at a little table for a few hours? Is it that important to you? I don’t know what it’s like to live in hurricane country, constantly being warned about weather which will probably not affect me too terribly, but I wouldn’t get that attitude about it. And suppose you do have to leave your rideout hideout: how are you expecting to save yourself in the brief window between 50 and 55 miles per hour? I have to give my odds to the hurricane over the drunk driver. Aye yi yeep.
Umf, I want to go back in time to when I was less mad.
No, not far enough.
Obviously, this picture is a joke, but to some degree it is, if not dehumanizing, definitely dedignifying. Yeb, this stuff is going to happen when women apply for public offices in this age of public perversion. What bothers me is that I found this used by a clear Palin supporter. This is not the way to promote your preferred leader. And don’t even tell me “hey, that’s why she just wants to be vice president, dude” and don’t call me dude. Well if she doesn’t matter, don’t vote for her and also give votes to someone who does, by your definition, matter, but that you aren’t paying attention to.
And don’t insist on bragging about her “executive” experience like it means something, with “executive experience” being something that our current president had heaps more of in a more populous state. But he was never vice president, ehhh? Former Maryland governor Spiro Agnew was, though. But he wasn’t an outsider! What the umbrella is an outsider? Can you be experienced from the outside? And now we don’t even remember what we’re talking about. The fact is that vice presidents do matter, are more “inside” than anyone else, gubernatorial tenures don’t make them infallible and if all you have left is “MILF” then you really don’t have much. You just look like a dumb oaf, and I don’t take advice from them unless they threaten to beat me up and not on the internet. And this was in August, before Palpal made “lipstick” her core platform. I hate lipstick. It’s superfluous and gross. There, I said it. For the sake of humanity I hope I have greatly misunderstood all this, but for the sake of this website entry I hope I haven’t. It was hard.
The rapid priority shifting is probably, in the realm of trivial comments, worse than a thoughtless, unrelated remark about pigs by your opponent. Yet it’s totally consistent with the political tricks I’ve been seeing since I started paying attention to them. How is anyone still fooled by this frivolity? It’s tiring.
I can’t think of a more belittling title that someone would attempt as a compliment than MILF. Certainly, Palin does not call herself MILF (although I wouldn’t be too surprised, sadly), nor would any salaried employee of anything officially related to the political goings on. But if the first thing that comes to the mind of you, a heteronotgayal man, is “she is a mother and I would like-a to fack her,” and you tell people this, then you can’t seriously say you respect her as a person or a decision maker, can you? I don’t think MILF has been in common use long enough to distance itself from the full weight of its original meaning the way “suck” has from unsatisfactory fellatio.1
If I must talk about this, I further state my problem with the Hillary Clinton comparisons. Policies aside, –and that’s what you want, right?– Hillary Clinton had been plotting to be president for the last eight years, if not longer. Sarah Palin was just picked by some guy not even a few weeks ago, and for a lesser position. Maybe it’s nice, but suggesting she’s made any breakthrough with that is equivalent to announcing that figs may be plucked from thistles or that Gene Simmons’ head may be plucked from his own rectal cavity.
I hereby swear to never attempt another “head up arse” joke unless provoked.
Ehhh, to be the first woman vice president entirely as the result of a hastily conceived pandering attempt by a legion of creeps would be less than noble. It seems more like a desperate scheme than a uh long-term, devoted scheme. A more appropriate comparison would be to fellow vice president nominee Geraldine Ferraro, although she had to put up with an additional month of public scrutiny after being chosen. And… this is totally boring.
I refuse to be a political blog. I’d rather browse an 80 page thread on a “metal” forum than a political blog. I’d rather argue the merits of meat with a kitty cat. I am not a “dem” in a “panic.” I’m just disappointed how many people are unable or unwilling to learn from their mistakes.
1And I hope it never does! But I know it will. “Suck” I have seen compared to geek and moron, but those were already innocuous when I first heard them. Suck, while apparently owing its negative form to the early 1970s, entered major, wide-spread usage in my lifetime, championed by noted literary critics Butthead and Beavis, and I’ve always thought of it an ugly word. It sounds ugly. I shan’t use it. Milf, while abbreviated, doesn’t sound ugly but it reminds me of suck and that’s enough. I remember I saw esteemed comic figure Garfield use it once, maybe about 1994ish, remarking, quote, “the Mondays sucked,” and I was appalled. Back then being appalled by Garfield was fairly new to me. Milf also reminds me of yiff, and now that reminds me of Garfield. How is that fair?
I suggested that a race is not a strong central basis for a side view action game. In fact, as this was implemented in Sonic the Hedgehog 2, and only 2, I like it better than proper racing games.
Both heroes in the same large, fairly complex level, competing to see who can smash the most monitors, grab the most rings, keep the most rings, bop the most robots and reach the end first. While it’s no doubt momentarily amusing to see Bluto suddenly outpacing his foes by locating the secret pogo stick cache between the manure piles, Popeye: Rush For Spinach is otherwise totally boring because it was designed and programmed by
Parents Choice Award winners The Game Factory –That’s “factory” as in the industrial revolution’s mechanical workhouse for standardizing monotonous labour to produce uniform products more quickly– and not 1992 Sega Sonic Team. Why subsequent The Hedgehog games dropped that delightful versus mode in favor of “hold down right and jump occasionally” or “nothing” I have no idea. The “one player” two player mode was safe for a while, anyhow. In general I find myself confused by most immediately evident decisions made with a lot of intellectual properties these days / always. I should probably be more grateful for the lack of canonically bastardizing Ristar sequels than I typically have been.
Licensed video games, in general, have been fortified with irrational, uncharacteristic violence for the last twenty years. Finally we return to a personnage known for the punch-ups he gets into, therefore defying no logic to depict him engaging in more, and we make him race. How the storyline mode of Popeye: The Rescue of Dino and Hoppy keeps contriving situations in which the four protagonists just happen to end up trying to outrun each other and Wimpy willingly participating in any of them is kind of funny, but it doesn’t ever get exciting.
Congratulations, you made someone cry.
Not related:
Tyler Perry enters the pizza business.
In other news:
Good idea!
Oh no!
I briefly considered the idea that “ant farms,” and specifically the practice of intentionally caving in tunnels (That’s what I quoted; I don’t demand that you click it) so the ants can be observed digging again, are horrible and cruel, but there are much nastier and widelier publicized ways to trap, deprive of purpose and kill your ants. Appropriately enough, called “ant traps.” But even those are probably a bit excessive. I suspect any creatures which dutifily proceed into the base of a near empty drink receptacle and die there in moist, pastey piles, as I’ve seen them do near my kitchen sink on more procrastinaty days, probably don’t have much will to live to begin with. Ants work until they die. The only exception is when they fight, and they only fight when their work is interrupted. Working, fighting, dying, it’s all they know how to do, and all they can know how to do. You’re probably helping them by speeding that along. Their whole lives are cruel. Not like slaves; they’re only officially slaves if another ant colony kidnaps them and enslaves them. It’s actually an instinctual, biological function that they make slaves of each other. Recently documented resistance to the slavery is even more cruel. Ant farming would only truly be cruel if you stuffed the ants inside a chinless, cube-headed symbol of depression era escapism-turned-proud redneck put-em-in-their-place anti feminism and gave that to someone who has a concept of cruelty. I wouldn’t be terribly surprised if living Shoebox greeting card Sarah Palin owns several Betty Boop products. However, in the interest of fairness and equal time I must acknowledge that Mitt Romney scares me.
Another peculiar, cruel-sounding aspect of ant farms, is that after purchasing them you’re supposed to send an included coupon or something to the Uncle Miltie company which will then mail live ants to you, free of further charge, accommodated by “an ant wrangler in Utah” which vaccuums a specific type of farm-compatible ant straight from the dirt at unspecified points in the state of Utah. Naturally, when I had an ant farm, I was not aware of or simply unwilling to deal with the mailing portion of the deal, and so just collected whatever ants I could find and dropped / shoved them into the thing. The ants dug no tunnels. They ate none of the narrow, food-like items I slid in with them, including one(1) Mr. Phipp’s Pretzel Chip. To their credit, though, they did as marvelous a job dying as any ants I’ve yet encountered. I will always remember them, and how they’re dead. I didn’t even eat them. Oh yeah and at the time I liked to eat ants.
Some years later, I found myself wanting to throw beehives at all possible aspects, name included, of the music band Alien Ant Farm, whose only hit was a song by someone else which had already been a hit. This youtube link and preview image are not working to rectify my disruptive urges.
I’ll quote you on it right now. Today, Monday, September first. It has not taken long for the ever-astute and responsible news medias to scrape up the true nature of the aspiring McCain gang second in commander:
Shock! She is, in reality, a mad ad-droppin’ internet robot. I’m so upset by this scandal that if the initial comment is additionally absurd in some ways I won’t even compulsively describe them. Right just now. Thankfully I have been allotted a full two months to convince myself I’m not being a petty freakadoo by doing that. However, in the interest of fairness and equal time I must reiterate that Joe Biden is still not cool.
In continuation of the previous postoid, I suppose it’s nice to see the Boop force expanding outside of southern gas station marts.
Though these are Wacky Wobblers and not, in fact, Ant Farms, that does not rule out the possibility of the existence of Betty Boop Ant Farms. There just aren’t any here. I can’t imagine a situation in which the Betty Boop people turn down a suggestion made by somebody. Quite simply no one has yet asked “hey, don’t we make Betty Boop Ant Farms?” I have a suspicion that sign hasn’t been accurate for the last 200 displays. When’s the last time you saw a stack of ant farms for sale anywhere, regardless of cobranding, regardless of proximity to the hellmouth Alabama?
However, if you’re in the market for dog sized laced denim featuring anachronistic homages to other trash marketing icons, and for whatever reason have fifty dollars to your name, you’re probably better off investing in becoming a public drunk (fortunately there are just as many Jim Beam signs available as for B. Boop, though buying artwork in sign form could in itself be enough).
If you’d like that denim in red you perhaps already are. But aren’t you glad that there’s somebody who will sell you red jean junk to force on your dog, and that it’s totally within the law? You have a crazy addiction that annoys creatures weaker than you and it’s totally fine!
Yet I am worried. One of the non-participant attendees of the February brain-damage-club art show suggested that some of my results, specifically this tragic scene could potentially sell well on jean jackets, contributing, quote, “People eat that [rubbish] up.” And so I dislike the boopster not just for being tacky and representative of a sizable delegation of my least favorite things about commercialism, but also for being my potential competition in the commercial tack market. Who does she think she is?!
I realize what an insensitive question that is to ask of someone suffering from an obvious identity crisis, so hopefully most of her identities won’t be offended. Hey, if Boop is so patriotic, why does she display that flag in a way which so flagrantly violates official pedantic flag etiquette? HA HA GOTCHA DUMB COMMIE BROAD! FIX MAH DINNER! Happy Labor Day!
Once you’re beyond the phase in which you desire to purchase pre-framed pictures of Betty Boop you may find yourself wishing instead to buy pre-framed pictures of indistinct white-clothed men who appear to be playing golf / have various skeletal abnormalities. If that is the case it’s a lucky thing you found this wall. Though I can’t help thinking what an opportunity was missed by not including Matlock in the Andy Griffith-sponsored transition to geriatric weekend television favorites. In the interest of full disclosure I should point out that this wall is not in a Florida gas station mart but rather the gift-shop of Connecticut’s own Barker Character, Comic and Cartoon Museum. I went there twice and both times the museum was closed but the store was open.
Fortunately, these were for sale.
Also available, Budweiser Lizards, low-resolution ntsc screengrab framed with button-operated audio accompaniment, yours for 200 dollars if you can endure the trials administered by the truly frightening Coca Cola sun guardian (id est: not run screaming in the opposite direction). I like to think the lizards have been waiting in this poorly-lit alcove forgotten ever since their ad campaign was, but I also like ice cream cake and I haven’t eaten that in about as long. This is the perfect loophole for someone whose family members have decreed a strict prohibition on the further purchase of Big Mouth’d Billy Basses.
I remember being the only person in my class(es) who didn’t think the frogs and their self-referential sequels were hilarious. It didn’t really matter because I was in sixishth grade at the time and none of us were old enough to buy beer. Although I’m sure in some way I’m attempting to imply that it did, in fact, matter, all the more so because we could not purchase beer, but if I absolutely had to see one I’d prefer rubber reptile puppets above mega oaf man-men thrusting bladder-fluid at me constantly.
No thank you, I couldn’t bear it OH NOOOOOOOOOO THEY’VE GOTTEN TO MEEEE TOOOOOOOO!!!!