I must warn you that this here website entry is more conceited somehow than usual. I’ve been insufferably self-satisfied since I figured out how to change text color with css in a manner that is at all useful. We now join the entry already in progress, if we want.

But violence spawns so many great ideas. Like video games.

The beta versions of Pong were actually pretty peaceful compared to the malevolent moral landfill that was released to the masses in 1972.

Precisely my point. Nobody really wants peace any more. Except maybe you.

It sounds like you want a “piece” of me, Jumbiliusu. But the one called queg at this time fears no challenge. I will travel a fine distance and engage you in a combat style of your choosing on any date.

Then we shall poke each other with Q-tips to the death (or at least the knockout) on September 3rd, 1492. On a pirate ship in the Arctic Ocean.

Be serious! We both know I have an appointment with the barber-surgeon then!

Let’s just get it over with on this day in 1492, then.

We did!

Never mind who they are for the moment, nor the blatant anachronism of suggesting the existence of barber surgeons 48 years prior to the Company of Barbers joining ranks with the Fellowship of Surgeons, know only that it led to me one day coming across “Epic Battle of the Arctic,” in which a green thing engages a blue thing of vague familiarity in a contest of sorts.
That being a totally new experience for me, I was unsure how to deal with the situation. At some point in the future I or someone pretending not to be me countered with this.

Perhaps you’re wondering: why, if I was free to reinterpret the scene as I saw fit, under no obligation and having stated no willingness to participate in such silliness, would I choose to again represent my end of the conflict with a thing so stupid it could lose a hand fighting with Q-Tips? And have that not be all it lost? There’s even a character shaped similarly to the green one which owns a similar hat who would surely make a better adversary and is also blue. But then I might as well make them be on an ironing board fighting with chip-clips and then why even bother?

And it might seem to you that certainly, anybody could be confused when there are two like-hue-skinned, pointy-eared smiling morons under three feet tall, but that I, if no one else, ought to know which wears a bow tie. You do raise good points.

Some time later, a person known not only as “Bridgeport Cat” let me know about this pog. And so I eventually responded with this cat person, which I assure you was relevant to the situation. If you look you’ll notice that it’s somewhat less intricate than my previous such rebuttal. There’s really no excuse for such inconsistency, but I’ll give you one anyway. I have a much easier time lerping out stupid smiling imps I’ve made hundreds of times before (as the totally unnecessary image above I assembled specifically for this page update should tell you) and things structurally similar to them than… anything else. And with my writers on strike good ideas are hard to come by. But it’s good to be challenged.

Ehhh. Hopefully I won’t ever get a picture drawn by somebody whose electronic identity is a background which appears in four consecutive panels. But if you are one and have one then I’d love to see it. I used to say I’d hate it but when it happened anyway I had to feel just a bit of elation. Not that I think I’m entitled to another, or even those I’ve had already, I’m just making it known that I can refuse nothing. But I’m no ho.

Internal struggle: Are these “art trades?” Am I gay anew? Do I have to fahv that awful picture of the DisneyR Princessestm traveling through time and space to meet up and make rude faces at an imaginary camera now? Or the anime simpsons? Must I hail neko yasha? Do I have to draw NEMITZ from the torso up glancing perturbedly sideways while taking a bite out of a boot, myself knowing all the while that in the end I will have no choice but to step forward and declare that such a thing cannot under any circumstances be enjoyed?

IT IS NOT POSSIBLE!

It is interesting to note that a great deal of something like that often comes with groaning the likes of “urgh bandwagon” or “ugh i don’t understand.” And yet you did it anyway! You’re just as much part of the problem as anyone else! Your thoughtless use of the word “bandwagon” proves it! Someone like you only gets off the bandwagon by thinking outside the box! Uhhhhhhhhhhhhpork and beans.

I sometimes read comprehensive explanations of things like that and still come out utterly baffled. Three months to ponder this one did not help. Possibly because it is baffling and also that this time I read it on the thing called “encyclopedia dramapickle.” I will talk about that now.

Unlike wikipedia, which invites the occasional gang of twits to write embarrassing articles of mass inversely proportional to their significance, encyclopedia dramaphrodite is written entirely by the most spiteful, unstable, hypocritical trendthugs alive, often at odds with each other, and as such just as bad as much of the subject matter it complains about. However, it is only by attracting them that we can draw out explanations and origins for the worst things online, however alternatingly, schizophrenically biased they will be presented. I don’t even want to link to the thing I’m describing because I’m afraid it will hack my brain and plaster photographs of enormous phalluses end to end along the outside of my house, each accompanied by an Impact-fonted caption you’d have to be the mature-aged equivalent of a crack baby to find meaning in. But trust me, it’s crrrrrazy!

A man called Root once referred to it as “hostile to humor” or something like that, and so somebody made a page about him on the site with that quote on it. Ha ha, got ‘im! Another agent once called him doot instead of root. So you can see why I’d be afraid. They keep their opposition in check. I’d go a bit further than Rodo and call it hostile to everything. It’s that sort of presentation where I feel like whoever wrote what I’m reading is angry at me. Who needs that? Not I! No sir. I get angry enough at myself for eating my weekly Raisinet/Chex Mix ration in one day without worrying that the time Ronin stole Jack Trades’ password and said he was going to punch Opt202 at Gorbocon six years ago might just make me a redneck gay redneck.

I have to assume the articles making fun of teen-aged weirdos who killed themselves are in the minority… but yih, there are some. Or there were, anyway. Something like that probably becomes a legal liability over time. That is, assuming real people have more rights than Capt’n Eeeeeeli. And… apparently I’m not over that yet.

And all this time I believed that was caused by an iron deficiency.

Next week: English lessons for domestic pets.

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