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Somebody recently gave me a compliment to the effect that the stuff I write here now is an improvement over what I used to because it tends to be more focused and less about jumping around between unrelated items I felt like mentioning.
Mmmm, tastes like sox! The packaging purports this to be the “official ice cream of the Boston Red Sox,” The Boston Red Sox being a professional baseball team. I know you don’t use ice cream while playing the game, and you don’t do it while training to play the game… Obviously, everybody uses steroids these days, but they still need to moderate their diet and exercise regularly, two habits which ice cream considers strictly against its principles.
The official severed, plucked, preservatized, frozen, reheated chicken wing of professional Futbol at least has protein in it. All the teams can agree on that, it seems. And while there is always, for it exists outside time, the official pizza of Nascar, Nascar is the only “sport” of the bunch that is done while sitting down, which is conducive to pizza eating.
Ha ba, I used to think that page was long.
Despite millenia of accumulated knowledge, many mysteries yet remain in this world. For example:
Why does this box of corn flakes have a recipe for Rice Crispies treats printed inside it in Spanish?
“Oops,” facebook? You’re used by millions of “people” every day and sell more ads than an xbox game with a flat surface in it, and the best you can do when something goes wrong is say “oops?” You could at least tell me that imbecile yella animal on the left had something to do with it. I would accept that. I wouldn’t FORGIVE it, but I would better understand how things came to be this way.
Meet Robert Pattinson, the world’s most photogenic hobo. He seems a bad choice for a calendar, though, as I get the impression he has no idea what year it is, much less the specific day. I assume this guy is an actor in one of those vampire movies, since for one reason or another men who look dirty are good at distracting tweenfidels from horrible scripts. Yeah, guy, the bow tie isn’t…
I know it’s about teenagers, but this seems like a bad time to get casual with the language.
Headshot: it’s like getting your brains blown out with bullets! What’s next, curb-stomp brand fruit snacks? Why, that’s about as appetizing as construction equipment and building material.
You shouldn’t eat snacks all the time, anyhow.
How about some rusted tow truck soup?
Or perhaps this, the only soup that you risk having eat you first.
Is this commercialization and masculine/feminization of every possible thing necessary or truly desirable, o supermarket?
I used to think it was pretty neat that I could have fruit snacks with numbers on them and canned soupoid substances containing things shaped like sharks, and look how I turned out. A gender-dysphoric, anti-corporate whiner who hates to buy unnecessary things. And nevermind.
Pigbuster sez:
I dare say that anyone willing to convince the public at large they are a sparkly vampyre can in no way be described as “funky”, and yet this calendar would dare insinuate Pat N’ Sons is capable of such a trait. I dare say the calendar-smiths don’t know nothin bout da funk, let alone who got it.
In other news, Mohtimüde seems to be in a rare state of contemplation; unusual given his tendency to provide insipid compliments on so many past occasions.
I don’t know who to trust anymore.
John sez:
Nothing reeks more of desperation than the labels for energy drinks (and products that are similarly trendy and easy to manufacture).
Rabivit sez:
Busta Pigz:
That thing wants NOTHING MORE than for me to make a disparaging remark about bow ties so that it can step into my business.
Its name is actually mortimewde but it tends not to pronounce Rs when they follow vowels. Evidently its accomplice in the graphics department thought it was important to maintain the integrity of the monster’s speech impediment, even at the expense of its name being spelled properly.
Look at the shifty shading on the left arm and foot there. If I have that much of a problem on a dinkity little picture like that one, imagine how it goes with important stuff! If it suits you.
Who’s Johnny?:
As I have observed on some of the occasions I have ventured out to watch my elder brother’s music band, which is quite popular with the local youth, nothing decorates a parking lot better than used cigarettes and empty Red Bull cans.
By my data gathering, the target market for most energy drinks are kids that fancy themselves as too cool to eat candy but are not yet old enough to legally purchase alcohol. Kids love stuff that’s loud and ugly. It’s always been that way. Each generation tries to out-ugly the one before it. Appropriately enough, I think the one that is dominant now takes things too far. I just wish they knew how much of the trendy trash they swear by is invented and put in place by people older than their parents.
ifihadjo sez:
I can’t even go down the soup aisle anymore without fear and loathing for what they’re plotting – all those little eyes staring from their cans. Still, I wonder what the Cambell’s Soup factory looks like inside and do humans actually work there? Perhaps they give guided tours.
Rabivit sez:
That’s a great tour. You really feel like you’re part of the process.