I’m going to try posting short things again to save myself rage. We will see how that goes.
Actually it went pretty bad because I wrote this to be short weeks ago and then it got long and I gave up on it.

If the ocean was Booz And I was a duck I’d swim to the bottom And drink my way up But the ocean’s not Booz And I’m not a duck So pour another shot And let’s get Fluffed up!!!

Up doesn’t even rhyme with duck once, much less a second time. The success of the “try, try again” method hinges heavily on you not publishing your failed attempts. You try until you succeed, and THEN you show people. You could try to rhyme up and duck forever and it would never work, and therefore you would never show this poem to anybody. What went wrong? Keep in mind that these people / their parents are paying serious money to come here. I know this because one of them said as much to me when I identified myself as “Potato Margobian” during one of several nigh unbearable introduction sessions roundabout late August. I will tell you about this some other time. I know I say that a lot but I’ve already told some people so in theory I need only type the story I already told and we can be done with it. I probably won’t.

Not surprisingly, there are countless googly results for variations on this little sonnet, most with “vodka” or “whiskey” in place of “booz.” Which makes sense; all the other words are spelled properly. Sometimes ocean is water, and a variety of things precede “up” in the last line. Sadly, the duck rhyme is non-negotiable. Somebody thought “gosh oh gee, apart from the vodka part, EVERYTHING LOOKS GOOD TO ME.” My favorite edition replaces the word with “Jack Daniels,” which adds a minimum of one extra syllable, making the thing even more awkward than it already was.

Anyway, with this basic fact ungrasped there seems little need to investigate what bodies of water ducks actually swim in nor which side they do it on, or even how much of it they care to consume. I am curious about the spelling of “booz” and its capitalization. Perhaps the architect of this mass of words is actually speculating upon the circumstances likely to occur if the ocean was Boos, the drunk from Return to Zork. My guess is that by being a digitized actor rather than ultra corny early 1990s pre-Myst computer graphic effects he would still be a more convincing likeness of one.

Although to be fair, even though I needn’t bother because I’m going to insult it again in a minute, whoever recorded most of the Zork youtube videos doesn’t have the game on the highest detail level. The graphics are not supposed to be QUITE as bad as they appear, but I was too afraid to play the thing back when I had it and I’m even more scared of it now that I see how corny it is, and the lower the detail the scarier it is, especially if you select ADLIB as your music source. So let us not Return to Zork at this time.

We should also not watch The Legend of Cryin’ Ryan, a boring straight-to-video movie about some kid becoming friends with a ghost, in which the Boos actor Harold Smith (II) appears as a gravedigger and announces that “if you knock over a tombstone, you die the same way,” because that seems a terribly pathetic way to die. Or maybe he means I will die the same way as the person whose grave it is, and he knows that because he killed everyone he buried and took notes and doesn’t appreciate his apparently very delicate and knock-overable craft being disturbed. He is even clutching a shovel in this picture, which suggests he’s burying people fairly regularly. He recently killed Jay Leno to make his beard. His previous beard got 43 million dollars to leave instead of being re-purposed as a mustache but is still complaining for some reason. Oh ho ho I’m almost culturally relevant a year ago.
…I told you it was boring. I just needed proof that game was made by real people and not highly intelligent computer mechanisms that wanted us to give up on advanced technology so we would leave them alone, allowing them to run chess simulations and de-fragment their hard drives endlessly.

Sadly, the duck epic was cleaned off shortly after I took that picture. Thankfully, this classy, elaborate graffitos in the same stall remains.

You know, I’m sure, I have displayed a disturbing number of pictures from inside restrooms lately. Let us break from that tradition for a moment.

I’m starting to think my last camera jumped into the waterfall on purpose.

“WASH”
Right to the point, I like it.

This really is the best place for soap.

If you’re wondering about the “janitor” from the other post month or so ago, I was correct in assuming pay was not the issue; it’s a blooming tree. And way past blooming season, at that. Do you see what we’re up against? Don’t try to negotiate with them; they’ll threaten to leave in any situation.

Also:
“The actual line is “a lie told often enough becomes the truth,” often attributed to Vladimir Lenin, which puzzles me, given this sector’s clear aversion to commie ideology evident in replacing vodka with generic booz.”
I said that in the previous post also. It was a reference to this one here now, even though this did not yet exist, and therefore ought to have removed it, but I forgot to, because I hate this site and don’t read it. Thus not only did I say something that made absolutely no sense, I included it with a most obvious spelling curiosity. Whoopth.

UNACCEPTABLE. PUNISHMENT COMMENCES.

They’re ALL in on it. I’d say “I should have known” but I DID KNOW and have REPEATEDLY SAID SO.

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Sunday… I can tell “you” already that this site won’t be properly updated again until Thursday at the soonest, and I may just decide to have a nap instead. So watch out.

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Hello, today is thursday, December the two. I will come back later tonight and post something I already regret.

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In frap I have changed my mind. What can I show you instead? More of these?

*I* don't even want to read all this, ducks, NEMITZ, popular with the robots | How to lose a guy in (2) days | !

Tuesday or thereabouts:
I just spent three-and-a-half days doing things I didn’t have time to do. Which is nothing new but usually I don’t not-do things all at once like that.

Oh!

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

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Sleep well, Canada: The Unknown chicken is defending your rights

I took this picture intending to say something which I now do not recall. I thought I should write it down but I believed as soon as I looked upon the thing I would remember. However, Dr. Oz is so unpleasant that my memory is impaired by the onset of inspiration as to how he is awful. Dr. Oz is as creepy as his name. He has no depth. He looks like an Edouard Manet painting. His head looks like a cheese sculpture. He looks like a puppet from Crank Yankers. He looks like Pat Sajak as a Ken doll. I don’t even know what California pseudoscientific field he’s associated with, just that I really do not trust him at all.
Well according to the internet, the only person who tells me things, unlike the last dork who got a television show exclusively through Oprah Winfrey being amused by his existence, Oz here is an actual doctor: a heart surgeon, which is potentially good for him, as far as my baseless assumptions amounting to nothing go. However, that means that I have to add a disclaimer admitting that my assumptions are baseless beyond him resembling a Nintendo 64 character. How is that fair?

In related news I don’t trust John Travolta, either.
Now, sometimes, people tell me this bloat is a Scientomologist, like that’s a crime, and for all I know it is or ought to be, but at least nobody’s set off a car bomb in the name of Xenu yet.

Of course Arnold Schwarzenegger et everybody was on totally legal steroids back in the 1960s so it hardly strikes me as valid journalism, much less responsible journalism to use this guy as some sort of idealized human being whose condition is attainable through any reasonable means or practical if it is. He says the steroids were strictly for “muscle maintenance” but great gimpity we just went over something like this. Let’s imagine this happened through totally natural means: I’ll still think it’s horrifying.

Not that this guy is any better / thoroughly unroided. AWWWWWWWWWWW BANNNNNNNNNNNNNNN! At least Schwarzy seems to enjoy his life. This oaf looks miserable.
Another of my assumptions is that the not-yet-illegal jugs of megadust they’re pushing now aren’t a great improvement, safety-wise, over what this guy’s actually on, so they’re not even going to get you looking like this before you put yourself in a hospital with them. How is that fair?

And then I have a picture of my brother sending a text message while on a stretcher (following an entirely un-steroidy product-related issue) but the ambulance driver told me the HIPAA people can sue me for that because it violates some patient privacy business regardless of my relationship to the subject. They probably won’t but assuming they try I want to have a clear schedule when their representative posts goofy comments on this entry about how I’m not allowed to make fun of people who send me threats in the mail. Honestly, these have been waiting for three months. I can’t stand it.

Of course Arnold Schwarzenborzen also likes to sue people who talk trash about his steroid use, but I only implied that you were going into the hospital and in any event that’s probably not the worst thing I’ve ever said about him. No, that would be when I agreed with the decision to dub over his voice in Hercules in New York. Of course, I think his voice should have been dubbed by Arnold Stang so that he could talk to himself for most of the movie, but that’s likely because I have problems. Someday I will admit that I regret this. Until then it’s unofficial.

And some other day an anonymous wikipedia contributor will admit to regretting implying Arnold probably regrets more of his movies and promptly regret admitting this regret.

No, I don’t hate Shwarzenfruben. I like that scene in Total Recall where he wears a turban. Also, he stood up to the Undertaker.

Don’t say flavor, don’t say flavor…

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARBALEST!

There’s a considerable difference between a holding a charity event and making a big old heap of used shoes.

I admit that the Multicultural Center was the last campus organization I expected to sponsor a gollywog contest.

I’ve deleted a few thousand of these the last few weeks, all with totally random names, but HONESTLY… I wish my name was Teisha Crookshank. That sounds like the name of a really boring potted plant that nobody would care about otherwise. That’s like one of those comic strips that was in the Hartford Courant but not the New Haven Register that I only saw then I visited my grandmother. That’s like the name of a feature film starring a former Saturday Night Live actor about a character that was too lame to even get on the show. It sounds like a controversial sewing maneuver. That’s the name of a band that won grammy awards for truly insufferable ballads in the mid 1990s. It’s the cut of meat used in the dollar tacos from the truck that parks outside Gateway Community College. It’s a zany elderly person character from an upcoming Harry Potter ripoff book series. That’s somebody who managed The Million Dollar Man back in the old WWF. Awwwwwww beans.

And this will be another week! Where do they come from? I can’t say, but I bet they have come a long long way. Not one of them is like another. Don’t ask us why, go ask your mother.

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Apparently this site earns $1.53 every day from ad revenue. However, the only [financially motivated] advertisements are posted by robots and followed by other robots looking for more sites to post ads on. Who is paying them to do that?

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Hey, remember this one? Well I don’t so I am posting a picture of it to remind myself.

I don’t know whether to feel vindicated or offended.

I have always strived for NOBROW.