I can’t stair it any longer
another picture with stairs, but unlike sacre coward not based on a photograph (if you can tell).
It was initially meant to be a landscape, of a sort, but I drew it so slowly that some discourteous imps moved in and built a city, unfortunately. Yet later some of them boarded the stairs and hopefully will get what they deserve.
I am still not sure if the bird is nearer to the viewer or simply really large in comparison to the scale of its surroundings. Thankfully on my computer screen it is still too small to be a significant threat.
You might be surprised to learn that some people talk to me. There is one person who does it on google plus for some reason, in addition to an unclear number of other people I get updates from whenever they remember they have google plus pages who do not necessarily talk to me. I noticed the update feed seemed to be feeding itself in an unclear order, placing things I saw months ago above things which had been posted more recently. This is done under the pretense of “tailor”ing the experience to meet my desires. Essentially it censors posts which do not get popular enough in favor of stuff that is already popular. An automated system to marginalize unconventional works and people, beyond the marginalizing people already do on their own. Speaking as someone who all evidence indicates is filtered out of existence and systematically ignored on “social media” regularly, I would prefer to not actively engage in that myself. I certainly would not delegate the job to a robot. Facebook does it too, and probably did it first. Google resents anything that controls information badly before it.
Twitter appears to offer a similar function, but I only found out about it via the control panel mechanism that lets me stop it from happening.
I searched for a way to make google+ stop, and I found Auto Aweseome instead.
When did “awesome” come to mean “brandable and roughly adequate?” Condescending advertisers finally killed epic and need another hypey youthful-sounding buzzword to ruin. Certainly they have been trying for at least a year.
Or more like two years
I forgot about this one.
alright it has been happening for a long time! But it subsided for a while.
In fact, I seem to have saved this in 2011. I appreciate google+ for not imposing itself on my experience regularly enough that I realized how much I hated it earlier.
If it can be done automatically it is not an adventure. An adventure should involve the unknown and personal initiative. If somebody else is leading you along, telling you what matters, and what is interesting, that is a tour. And if some robot is just guessing based on largely meaningless figures or nothing at all it is tourash. I saw some bit of between-show filler on one of those cartoon channels showing some barely-drawn figure floating across a landscape pointing out every ostensibly adventurey thing that appeared, as if they were expected, each as stereotyped as possible so that the protagonist could be not surprised by them. And I thought “what rubbish this is, I hope I never see it again.” And then a year later it was called Adventure Time, literally telling you YES ADVENTURE, excitement obtained through taking risks and seeking the unknown HAPPENS AT THIS SCHEDULED PRE-ARRANGED JUNCTURE and everybody liked it and was trying to be derivative of it and its self-aware dot-eyed auto-awesomeness. Bah! Doing things that you expect on time is the OPPOSITE of adventure! Crap’t’n’ Ecoli’s website and its cease-and-desist letter to mine had the tagline “Stand by for adventure!” Adventure is not something that you stand by for! If you are STANDING BY then it is someone else’s adventure!
Everybody on the internet wants to be Napoleon Dynamite except he is more artistically inspired.
I recently heard an advertisement for oatmeal with the slogan “today is going to be awesome.” Oatmeal is NOT awesome! Not even close! And neither are pop tarts! You should not rely on them to impart awesomeness onto you and it is irresponsible for advertisers to advocate such a behavior.
Pop tarts just make me think of playing to the second level of blaster master with the little lava pools that look more like pop tart filling and then having to turn it off to go to school. Blaster Master is likewise pretty bland and school is worse, especially when I have indigestion from eating two pop tarts. I could only get up to level 3 in Blaster Master so having to turn it off early probably fit in with my plans then.
There is, in present circulation, a televisual ad for one of these cereals with some dork eating Froot Loops and pretending to play the demo of Super Mario Brothers, while music as if they were actually playing is dubbed over with an announcer who sounds like he is wearing a neck brace strains out “bring back the awesome.” Froot Loops were NEVER awesome! I just finished saying how non-awesome oatmeal and Pop Tarts were and you found something yet less so. While still not awesome by comparison, they are at least less unimpressive. Froot Loops were just alright, at best. Unless I am mistaken Froot Loops was the big pioneer in spelling the key ingredient’s name wrong on purpose to keep yourself from being legally obligated to use any. But with the “bring back” and the desperate attempt for retro-game approval, these cereals are not being marketed at kids. Not real kids anyway, because this generation’s adults are still children. Children do not desperately pine for “good old days” that were not really all that good. While you’re at it why not “bring back” an 80 pound tv with dials on it, a rotary telephone, chuck your hard disk and chisel a floppy drive in its place, replace all your soft furniture with hard wood and swap your car for a stage coach. Then spend your inheritance playing old video games and eating tiny fossilized doughnuts while your own kids go to work in a coal mine.
With that all said, I am glad to see froot loops and friends finally dropping the pretense that they are food. It is mediocre candy with centrum silver injected into it. Is a double-wide box not enough?
The Kellogg Cereal Company probably saw that most of the ponely audience was 30 year olds, and realized that pandering to real kids was a waste of time when there was another demographic just as fickle and unconcerned for its own wellbeing but with a lot more money to spend on banquet sized stocks of crystalline corn syrup rings. Actual children probably won’t touch the stuff. They probably aren’t allowed to. I know they’d get expelled if they tried to bring it to school. Froot Loops are probably in an offense category with plastic knives by now. But that’s alright, you can eat rainbow dust hoops when you go home, and thanksh to modern innovations such as making the box twice as big, there may even be some left by then.
Here, have a lumpy sack, like something you’d fill a cat litter box with. I admit these are the generic non-kellogg brands, but real Post Cocoa Pebbles are on the shelf. “Real” said with the understanding that being not actual pebbles, their cocoa quoquotient may likewise be called into quequestion. Cocold in here!
In fact I would rather eat fruity pebbles than froot loops, but they ALSO remind me of blaster master!
or worse, jujubes.
As you are no doubt aware, 2014 is the tenth anniversary of the all time smash record setting play Jope and Some Dopes. The script has aged well; the text is just as deep black and the background as pure white as I remember them being ten years ago. I would like to take this opportunity to reflect on some of the Jope-related events and achievements of the past decade.
With that out of the way, I should also acknowledge that 2014 is the 20th anniversary of the planetary disruption of the earth and moon that destroyed civilization and led to the rise of Thundarr the Barbarian 2,000 years later.
So watch out, 1,980 years from now.
Prior to then, I scanned what seems to be the first round of character drawings, including the only known appearance of the one called Kierfo. If you cannot tell which that is, it is probably not important! Likewise you probably do not need to see it bigger by poking it.
More recently, jope evidence could be found on one of those crummy websites that automatically generates pages with prefabricated lies about the actual content, of which there is approximately none. You cannot watch Jope and Some Dopes there or anywhere!
I actually wrote a description for them, but to the shock of nobody, exactly as many real people actually participate in building these pages, so I must assume the “suggest edit” page feeds directly into a metaphorical dumpster without anyone seeing it, which is appropriate at least considering the involvement of dopes. I suppose “Open End Theatre” would technically be the production company, but the production was not at all technical, and if we kept the ends open what audience we had would fall out.
Anyway before I intervened it said GREEGOEP which is equally incorrect (though Michele was generously granted a bonus L). Greegorp is a character portrayed by Quentin Farris, who is the only actor named on the page, so I assume whoever named him put his character’s in the wrong place and deemed it not eccentric enough spelled properly and now it is fact for all time.
Although to be fair, the original cast list was printed in the font “Curlz” and Quentin’s own last name had a misplaced E in it. But we needed to print up about 80 of these less than an hour before the show. I sent my proposed update to that webpage over four years ago! I like to imagine a real human getting it and thinking “hey! Some rabble rouser is trying to steal credit away from GREEGOEP! EDIT REVERTED” I say I imagine that because I believe that one person moderating suggestions is far more than have been spared. With today’s observance I made another attempt at the update so we will see where, if anywhere, that goes, provided one of us remembers to check before 2024.
A google search also revealed erroneous details of the tv spinoff series Jope With Office Dopes that turned out to be a result, again, of a computer thinking it is smarter than people and messing up.
I could not think of a fitting ending for the play, and so it also goes for this entry, therefore I will let the printed, non-computer program give us a proper conclusion:
Also, everybody I worked with on that was great and this website entry should not be interpreted as bitterness unless absolutely necessary.
this neighborhood already went to hell, and tomorrow I get to find out what comes after that.
even the foreclosed crumbling rat-packed house that no people have lived in for years has freshly mowed grass, and has consistently since May. I did not always have time to personally inspect it but courteously the deed-doer made certain I could hear the process. Who is paying for it? Who is it supposed to impress when it is partnered with a house that looks like somebody got murdered in it, then came back to life, climbed onto the roof and jumped off?
Yes, I took the previous picture on a sunnier day, but that does not mean the light does not turn grey and condemnatory whenever the house is looked at directly.
There is DUCT TAPE on the chimney! My house does not even have a duct taped chimney, and I am someone with a toilet on my back porch.
AND I am at a point where I do not even realize having a toilet on my deck is out of the ordinary so I had to go outside just now to take the picture in the dark with a flash instead of during the daytime when I took the other pictures, and I am saying the neighboring house is a horrid heap that is going to bring down my splendid heap’s value!
Perhaps making an offering to our patron saint will improve my fortunes.
Where no meep has pogone before
And why SHOULD anyone have pogone here? This looks like a stupid place.
appropriately enough, assuming it was here before, by now pog is gone.
Anyone should know better than to assume they missed anything here! Except pog, so I shall not offer criticism.
Hey, do you want to read about voting? Neither do I! You can read it first.
This is less likely to shame me into voting than it is to make me go to their office a throw a brick through the window. It is worse news that some company I have never heard of has a record of my votes than the content of the record.
But this came addressed to my sister, Saginaw. I was sent a weird call where the speaker reminded me that I told them, who I have never heard of, that I was going to drive to the polling location early in the morning to cast my vote, even though I voted last time at 5:30pm, cannot drive legally and never told anybody anything. They found me at a Madison Connecticut telephone number but would not let me vote in Madison because my non-driver id card still says New Haven on it. I am sure you care. I appreciate it.
Hey just checkin’ in. Ya votin’? Hope you’re votin’. Heard you weren’t votin’. Ya know that’s below average? Not sayin’ it’s bad but… just sayin’. It’s bad. Okay gotta go. Probably not goin’.
For my older brother Cochise, who has not lived here in thirteen years, I got to meet a woman wearing sunglasses and ludicrously bright lipstick at my front door. In retrospect I imagine the exchange might have gone like this:
hi we’re working to build support for ted kennedy jr. can we count on your support this november?
who is we? I just see you here
we are the committee to elect ted kennedy junior and we are hoping we can count on your support at the polls this november. We’re just passing out literature right now
literature? is he an author?
no Ted Kennedy Junior is running for State Senate and hopes that-
oh another kennedy
yes he is the son of the late ted kennedy
so he is qualified based on that?
no he is qualified because etc etc etc as you can read in the literature
i have just remembered i can’t read
that’s OK! Ted Kennedy Jr has worked tirelessly for the rights of the disabled can we depend on your support?
He needs my disabled support to fight for the disabled?
the people’s voice matters and we can’t do it without you
why aren’t I running, then?
this is america. if you believe in yourself you can do anything. Have you considered offering us your support?
but in actuality I went to special education for eight years and the Connecticut Department of Developmental Services for more years afterward, and I dealt with staff who talked like that so frequently I cannot even imagine a hypothetical exchange in which they did not have some condescending phony-optimistic reply for everything. When you work for a political campaign you are trained that no potential voter is too dumb. You cannot risk interpreting the dopiest question on the planet as a joke, because somebody who asks a stupid question sincerely is more likely to believe their vote counts and to feel special when some creep from a campaign pesters them at home, whereas somebody who is so disgusted by the process as to deliberately abuse campaign workers is likely a lost cause.
Ehhh
after 16 years of being moderately aware of the political situation I have observed that at every election, the two controlling parties and their news-slaves put forth the story about how high the “stakes” are and who stands to gain/lose “control” of this or that house. But regardless of who wins, the same stuff doesn’t get done. My optimism was artificially propped up by the people i was aware of in 2008 and nothing changed after that either, except that I stopped being able to distinguish my “friends” online from the banner ads that I had only just found a reliable way of blocking. So how are there people two-to-three times my age who still act like this is an urgent situation year after year? It just starts to look like the two sides are useless but at odds on purpose so that people focus on the bickering re:nonsense and ignore the horrid rubbish both ends agree on, like getting into undeclared wars, using robots to kill in wars that are even undeclareder, supporting allies who kill indiscriminately with and without robots so long as those allies promote American commercial interests, sometimes within confinement of a wall that they themselves built, monitoring citizens, fric-a-fracking, propping up obsolete industries, outsourcing the ones that are still profitable, and on and oh. What do people criticize President Barack Obama for? Wearing a light brown suit. Calling some jackass celebrity a jackass. Having a middle name. Taking away Our Guns despite not having done a ding dang thing to that end.
That should do it. The S here looks too much like a 5, though, making this wall into a buzzfeed headline. 5 TOP WARS you don’t own but should!
And meanwhile, the news media, our actual governing body… if you want to complain about them rushing to declare a winner before all votes have been counted, they declared Hillary Clinton the next US president the instant Obama was inaugurated, if that late. It doesn’t matter who wins, so we might as well announce it eight years in advance. Although that’s no reason we can’t keep tittering excitedly about it for the next 96 months.
Hey look this potential candidate that is not part of our pre-written outline has passion on an issue! Let’s laugh at it until it cries. We need to eliminate anyone with actual emotions or the potential for shame from the herd. Need more smirking dead-eyed married couples with inherited nonpinions STAT. Get pictures of the kids, too. And a dog that they didn’t have prior to entering politics, GREAT. This is just irrelevant enough to be crucial. No kids, no dog, no service.
And the crummy debates are always closely monitored. you get 30 seconds to answer, “let’s move to the next question.” NO! If they have more to say, let them say it, and let them address each other. Are we electing a governor or a game show host? We probably know more about Louie Anderson’s background than that of Tom Foley, the challenger to Connecticut governor Dan Malloy. And when one brings up a point that your preplanned questions do not ask about, for beet’s sake ask that question. “My opponent is saying things about me that just aren’t true.” Things like what? Oops no time. And neither protests because neither really cares beyond saying their scripted lines.
Look at these yahoos. These guys are chum buddies. One of them HAS to be in charge from now on. I don’t believe for T seconds that anything major is going to improve based on one being elected. We just choose what we want to get worse slower.
They both own boats and devised a scheme to make boat ownership a bigger campaign issue than actual campaign issues (the campaign issues being “taxes.” They “mix it up” by sometimes talking about taxes first and boats second). They probably own paintings of boats. They probably own paintings of their own boats, which are then displayed on the boats. No boat, no ugly white baseball cap, no service.
Even if I had never seen them before I would feel like I had seen them before.
It is true, the taxes in Connecticut are nasty. But I do not trust this guy to reduce them in a way that will provide a net benefit. He wants to be in charge of a whole state (admittedly, a tiny one) and all he has is “I have a plan to cut taxes and create jobs.” Oh so? This is literally Mitt Romney’s platform from two years ago. He could have lost the republican primary election to a parrot trained to say “tax cuts” and “job creators” if the target voters were not likely to perceive a red, yellow and green candidate as gay or Mexican*.
(those are actually the colors of several countries in South America but everything south of real “America” is Mexico to the sort of person receptive to this pitch)
Even with Zob on his side it didn’t work.
can you believe it, somebody drawing this pathetic X over the donkey silhouette on a cheap printout at an institution of supposedly higher learning didn’t clinch the deal either.
the most effective anti-democrat promotion I saw was something they made themselves. Vote or DIE. Or maybe this means Vote AND die.
Every time: One oaf says “I’m going to lower taxes and protect your guns” and the other says “we’re going to FUND services and protect the environment or or whatever you want me to do, I swear.” They promise impossible outcomes, so then at the next election whichever side lost then can claim the winner LIED. Candidate advertisements, when they give information at all, are the equivalent of saying to a child “I have a plan to push back bedtimes, make the bath cuts permanent and give you candy for dinner.” There are consequences to these actions and only an undeveloped fickle mind would fall for it. Not only do people fall for it, they fall for it over and over again, despite rising evidence of the consequences. They fall for it as a matter of personal principle and are more motivated to vote and squawk about it through falling for it than people who realize it is rubbish, because the opposition’s broken magic tricks are less impressive and no more varied. “I’m going to protect the environment, control guns, hold the banks accountable…” Or in other words “If I elected I pledge to give you a bigger bedroom, make dogs stop barking at you and drive you to school instead of making you take the bus.” More responsible sounding but unlikely to be delivered.
HEY did ya vote yet? Hope so! Heard ya didn’t. Say could ya help me? I think I’m stuck.
You cannot save the economy just by cutting taxes and you cannot save the world just by raising taxes and throwing money at issues. This year the incrumbent democrab Malloy did not even bother to say what he was going to do or already did. He just pointed at his opponent and said “this guy is a scumbag.” Or rather some other voice said “this guy is a scumbag” and then the actual candidate said “I’m me and I approved this message.” It would be nice to believe that our governor was busy actually governing and had no time to contribute to messages beyond saying that he approved one, but his use of the “I approved this message” tag shows what an unthinking imbecile he is. Show me the poll that shows voters demand that their candidates say those exact words. Nobody does. Nobody cares. Nobody notices when they do not hear it. Even candidators who say their OWN messages have to remind me that they approve what they just said. Candidates in USAmerica elections are legally required to include proof that their campaign authorized its own ads, and for good reason, but not to use that exact wording. They just do it because they have no will or desire to do anything but what the person from their party before them did. I have been conditioned through my upbringing and preference in media influences to illogically believe democrats are usually right, and have an unshakable subconscious belief in that, just as I have a subconscious illogical belief that Jesus Herbert Walker Christ really doesn’t want people mentioning him, and that he knows, out of many billions, who is doing so and how often. If that is the case he can send me a vain name-taker report card.
Jon Stewart, who I hated in 2000 and came to appreciate, was also with me through the past gang of elections. Even when the people he likes get hired, the same nothing goes on occurring. How can he still believe in this donkey vs elephant, red vs blue rubbish? He was the lone “late night funnyman” who seemed to legitimately care about the state of this country, and not just go with its flow for fresh joke setups.
And you can say “but his JOB is to tell jokes!” but he acts like it isn’t! Unless somebody challenges him, in which event he says “ey I’m on Comedy Central! The same network as Battlebots! I don’t know nuttin’.” Battlebots was canceled in 2002, to give you an idea how long Stewart has had that excuse.
And you can say “we talk about blue vs red because no other colors get to this stage!” But we don’t let them! This isn’t Double Dare. The world doesn’t start with just two opposing sides (and I doubt the geriatrics in congress would be able to break enough water balloons in 60 seconds to fill a cup past the red line).
The presence of independent candidates in minor elections creates a false impression that these opportunities are out there and not taken. These independents are exceptions, and in races that are monitored by national media, exceptions are caught early and are the first ones to go.
Halten Sie! We interrupt your regular programming to bring you an important update: 6. Why we couldn’t have crammed this six into a smaller part of the screen without interrupting or, if this 6’s contract requires it be fullscreen, shown you it during the preceding hour of scheduled, election-soaked news programming is oops here’s another update:
We’ve interrupted the only show on broadcast television you actually watch with this big old map on our Connecticut affiliate even though Connecticut isn’t actually important enough to be colored on our map! Now back to your common rubbish.
Must… get to polls! Must return… to polls! Must… replenish… my strength…
Sacre Coward
A view from some stairs leading toward Sacre Couer, an old church on a hill in Paris. Paris has a great number of old churches and monuments and art museums that want to be treated like churches, and I went to a bunch, and was told how great they were, and isn’t this inspiring and aren’t you lucky to be here. In recognition of that I drew the street instead.
As for the imp near the lower edge, you cannot claim that this thing does not deserve to have something bad happen to it. I shall lay out the facts:
It is meeply
it is yellow
it has really stupid looking ears
it has no toes, just feet
it also has no nose.
We cannot just ALLOW that. You can be certain it had a great big smile just moments before it realized that bowling ball was coming. It was probably stomping up the stairs like it owned the place (it does not own the place). If nothing else, my drawing attention to this matter justifies the upload. That creature should really have known better than to be meeply in a place like that.
Scattered T-Storms
The weather always gets strange this time of year. I hear that it bears some similarity to Umby Ridge but I cannot figure out what.
casualties:
Pointless lizard thing. Even with my pointless lizard history this stands out as especially lacking in purpose. It finally flew away when the blimp showed up, which is not to say there is no reason to throw lightning bolts at it.
Stereotyped pirate being hit by a tea bag where an eye patch might go. Initial testing revealed that I had to explain what this was and that I could not find a concise way of doing so.
Regular creepy lipton tea figure
Later made slightly more creaturely to seem less out of place to people who do not recognize the figure, or in general, and also be possibly more creepy.
intially these two were beside each other. I considered trying to make one of the buildings a ship or some sort of nautical-themed inn but then that seemed like it would distract from the tea focus.
top hat snake observing a yellow snake
pink unbothered bird of unspecified type in the position that the yellow snake was moved to. I also need to explain the snake’s significance, but it is easier than explaining the pirate, and my pictures often have dumb snakes in them anyway so this one does not necessarily need to have significance.
Panicked noseless meep running from a spoon. Eventually I added a pathetic mouse that did not quite succeed in running from a spoon, but did succeed in having a nose.
Blimp that I could not figure out how to make relevant. I lately considered that it could have an advertisement for coffee on it and be attracting several lightning bolts, but now the area is too cramped. Unlikes these website entries, I cannot just keep adding in junk forever. Which seems good, but unfortunately I still try. Gosh I hope that if I change my mind and go implement that idea I just mentioned I do not forget to remove this part about how I was not going to do it.
I was not sure whether to have the 5th panel being laugh sincerely, which works better, or sigh dismissively, which is more realistic. This way, however, is ambiguous, which leads to the other party uncertain if it had or had not been understood, and if not, if this topic should be tried again, and in the anxiety over the uncertainty, decide not to, which is yet more realistic.
I did have a few jubilant women of apparently similar age and appearance, unrelated to themselves or me, proclaim at me “you’re gonna be an uncle!” And first of all, if THEY know that, then I know that. Once the unit was out, I was alerted by an actual relation in the form of “you’re an uncle.” Not “your sister has given birth at last” or even “the danged thing is out,” since I knew whose it was. For whatever reason people want to present it in the form of me turning into some gendered word and permanently affixing it to the front of my name, even though had I been dead this process would have carried on unhindered. They mean it is a favor to me, surely, and there is no way to tell them I am discomforted by it without making it a bigger problem than it ought to be. Congratulating me is also upsetting, considering that I actually make things through my own effort that the same people routinely have no interest in or interest in having interest in. Things better than THIS one that you are reading, I mean!
This congratulation means as much as the Big Why supermarket congratulating me on successfully using my free Big Why card while paying for my purchases and receiving one of their weird plastic fake coins for it.
Or at&t uverse congratulating me on being found by their obnoxious automated email and its unnecessary creepy video with a robot voice saying my given legal name that I only gave it because it is legally my name, but not what I want anyone calling me if I have a choice. I bet it would call me UNCLE if it knew and could see two years into the future since undoubtedly it has ways of knowing. It would be easier and less discomforting, for me, to just be allowed to READ the instructions, but I am not allowed to argue with the robot. Human beings are thus going to have to deal with me.
I have probably said so before, but maybe not, since I have not convinced myself I am entitled to harbor the feeling, and in any event this can be taken as my official declaration: I do not consider myself, I am not emotionally comfortable with the idea of me being a “man.” I am a gender-indecisive being. I was born as one thing and did not like it, but I did not want to be the “opposite” either.
It would not be convincing and would require bizarre over-compensatory effort, that would likely result in some people unenthusiastically humoring my effort while others would simply be cruel.
Birdo isn’t even real, and lacks descriptive biology entirely, and still nobody accepts its choice. What chance would I have? Having a perpetually OH NO shaped mouth is fine, but don’t you dare pretend you never had a phallus that you never had.
My body barely works as it is; I do not want to mess with it and risk screwing up and having constant pain roundabout something I would prefer to pretend was not there at all. Though I feel like staying what I started as is lying to myself, trying to be the other would be lying to everyone else. I just want it not to matter. But oh how it insists on mattering.
Male is a statement that makes me uncomfortable. Female is a statement that would make others uncomfortable.
Ordinarily, I can privately not-acknowledge it, and keep me from making it anyone else’s hassle. This week’s matter forces that out and has presented some difficulty. I realize that my problem is not the primary concern of the pregnancy, but it is a concern I will have to deal with alone and without talking through entirely, since none of the exacerbators see it as anything but imaginary, unsatisfiable attention-grabbing. And I start to believe it IS because I always watch for that stuff in others, and am inclined to doubt myself. And thus I hate myself for a feeling that nonetheless occurs, and then hate myself for that.
But my sister Salgorpsponce is fine. The fluid and the tubes are out. There are middle-aged women waiting in line to empathize with her. I can imagine feeling worn out by all the attention. Raising a child is never easy or worry-free, but there is precedent for it. S does not need this website entry to be about that. I am therefore free to talk about my own weird issue.
Of the three siblings, I have been perhaps closest to this one. I knew the two brothers longer, but they became more distant, as they went and lived with/off others, developing disparate extreme political viewpoints, at one point refusing to speak to one another despite both independently concluding that a majority of international heads of state and subordinates should be brought before firing squads (and shot at). They are both comfortable calling themselves and me uncle. They do not know me well enough to have any idea that would irk me. Or perhaps they did but thought I would “get over it.” I am not an over-getter of it. Usually I get around things or go off in another direction. I can survive on private denial, if I may be left to it.
Should I show this to them? I would hate for anyone to read this entry FIRST. I almost hate for anyone to read this at all.
It is one thing to be called by a name. A name is usually more abstract than a word. It may be a man’s name, commonly, but I do not know men with the name. I will not call myself by the name, and will officially change it as soon as I become decisive enough for that, but I became accustomed to hearing it before I developed this specific gendereal issue, so said aloud by someone else (whom I have met already and who is not a condescending robot), it is mostly just a noise by this point. As long as I do not have to say it myself, I can live with it. “Uncle,” however, is very specific, gender-wise. It is like “mister” but more likely to occur outside of scumbagly “business” situations where I can hate the using party for additional reasons, such as including my middle initial, sending me credit card offers or requiring me to use a password that I cannot possibly remember, locking me out of my own account and then acting like that is done as a favor to me, and I ought to be grateful. People who were comfortable calling me an abstract name my whole life want now to put some man title in front of it. And people who only just met me want to do it also. People who barely know me are introducing me with man words to people I have never met at all.
And yet “uncle” is non-specific outside of the gender respect. Rather than a specific person, it is a man out of many men. One of the earlier people I spoke of wanted to use the vague man word in substitution of my name entirely. We do not have a gender-vague word for a parent’s sibling that does not sound like it came from a naive wishy-washy internet forum, because they do, and me insisting on one’s use would be just as dismissable to the people I am having difficulty with as asking for no word. I found advocacy of “pibling,” ostensibly a contraction of “parent’s sibling,” sounds like a little rainbow colored candy that tastes like Mr. Pibb soda. I certainly do not want anybody calling me Mr. Pibling. I might as well try and have people call me skittle or nerd, and I will at least deserve one of them.
It would be the same if we invented our own word, but I would rather have no word.
I know once the baby is in the house there will be other issues, and I will not be at risk of the baby calling me the word for some time, and by that point outside parties should be less excited about tossing it in where it does not belong, and I can ask the one person who matters to not call me that. And then I reckon I have until the age of 7 or so before the child realizes I am a complete loser who needs accommodations at every stage to keep from crumbling into a weeping heap, and starts using the word deliberately to annoy me. I was terrible to my own mother’s weird brother, but he fortunately never had an issue with the binary tree. Or if he did, it did not keep him from functioning.
The creators were able to procreate because they accepted what they were and acted on mutually functional biological impulses. What are my impulses? I have an impulse to create imps but it is not biological, hopefully.
I have been asked: “how’s it feel to be an uncle?” It does not feel like anything! Should it? I am worried at worst and indifferent at best. I suspect the asker did not really care about my answer, and thought it would be interpreted as an upgraded form of “how are you?,” the base level question askers do not want answers to. For them to fulfill a request to stop would be a challenge, since it seems to occur as a thoughtless reflex, just as my negative reaction does, though I am fated to dwell on my reflex afterward.
Clearly I am more affected by adults trying to re-frame my life in the context of this other person’s baby than anything the actual baby did in less than a week. I will admit that I find this baby less ugly than the “adorable” babies I am exposed to in trash media, but this one is usually asleep, with mouth shut and nothing leaking out. This baby would not be in a gross-out cartoon (id est: ANY cartoon) or used to sell products. I am glad to know someone with integrity.
‘Crotch-chops’ and ‘why’ do not mix.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Why is it the mopey things that get stuck up here for longer than a week?
page 3 of this we are up to! After all these years, FINALLY at page 3!
The future of the automated comic display system is currently being evaluated then, and thus I have not done it yet.
This page SEEMS useless, but it re-establishes for this “chapter” that lope is a nuisance, and that elpse is a nuisance, that the hat does not like, and solves the problem of my re-establishing that elpse hates robots on the previous page without sending the story off in a more interesting direction than I had planned before i thought to put the robots there. The robots had solved the problem of elpse being about to murder lope for having hit nemitz with the car earlier than that. And this re-establishes that nemitz and elpse forgive each other for their mutual nuisancical qualities (even though I have personally advised elpse against this forgiveness).
For the first time in a while I made up the colors instead of pulling them out of previous pages. It seems to have been an improvement, though the previous pages now appear very dull by comparison. And of course these will be re-dulled when they are printed, so it is probably better to keep doing it the other way even if that looks worse on a computer screen. But we both know that I am contractually obligated to find the most complicated, inconsistent and unintuitive way of doing all tasks.
In other news, the dumb lizard is so pathetic, sometimes it doesn’t even have a mouth, and just has a nose. This thing is incredibly fortunate I need two months to get out a new page. It has no idea how many dumb things it is not doing due to me being held up. And neither do I! Stupid things just HAPPEN when I put it on a page.
Why don’t you just shut up, nemitz. nobody has any interest in ANYthing you have to say. you might as well NOT TALK. Have you forgotten what I threatened to throw at you four years ago? Or have you remembered and here thrown my throw threat back at me? Neither of those is excusable.
Somebody who cannot read or does not understand english might look at this comic strip and think nemitz is saying something, when it IS NOT. 100% or more of what nemitz says is RUBBISH. Why do we, as a nation, put up with nemitz? I have had enough. Good NIGHT. Unless you are a brightly colored imp, in which event I wish you a very BAD night. You are so frustrating, I was distracted and inverted my capitalization scheme.
http://bimshwel.com/?p=347
I forgot that I wrote a more comprehensive, comprehendable piece about why “children’s” music is dumb over two years ago. I could say it has not gotten less dumb in that period, but this here is based on older text than that. Maybe I am multiple people and each wants to say the same thing differently.
People have a tendency to blast any old noise to the extent that no one can hear themselves think or others speak. This happens at restaurants and at terrible parties. It makes me uncomfortable and inclined to leave. Others, who think themselves influential visionaries, via the ease with which they are influenced by things which were crummily visualized, think “I should do this at MY terrible party too! Or just whenever I play any music for any reason.”
Perhaps someone who expresses individuality by purchasing a mass-produced trinket that insults people other than the buyer, that the semi-enslaved assemblers probably couldn’t read.
Whenever I am in a car with someone who is fond of their own musical taste, even one I do not hate, they always have to reduce the volume if they want to hear me say something. And then it goes right back up again. Perhaps in the hope that I will stop saying something.
Children, I would expect, have sharper ears than people who’ve been deliberately dulling themselves for years. But I hear the terrible baby-aimed music very, very loud out my window from the neighbor’s house. I used to be terrified of them hearing me listening to music, even though I think my music is good, and so I would greatly reduce the intensity to near inaudibility if such people were themselves audible to me. They seem to have no such reciprocal fear.
Is there some deep musicialness to really “feel” with those songs? Something so subtle you can only appreciate it by blowing out your speakers? I say nay. I hear one main instrument, one voice and occasionally a really simple bass line. Curiously, I have heard much the same sort of dewwww-dadewww, dewwwww-dadewwww bass in the country music the adults of the house listened to when the children were not visiting. This was a few years ago by now, but the sister of mine is looking to launch a new baby imminently, and of course this is the most important topic. Forget the matter of bringing a new person and an additional parent into an 87 year old home that we desperately need to sell before it crumbles to dust in a town we could already no longer afford to live in: I, a 31-year old demi-human living with its own parents might have to deal with some undesirable music.
My brother Iga, at a low age, was made to listen at, and came to insist upon hearing, albums by the self-described “troubadour” Raffi. As grating as those could become, at least Raffi put his unique raffiness into his songs. It wasn’t just mass marketed focus group council of militant neglectful parents approved rubbish. He may have turned down big money from mass market focus groupers. I can appreciate that, even if Joshua Giraffe haunts me to the day I die.
And when that was over, if more Raffi really was necessary, we had a DIFFERENT Raffi tape to put in afterwards. We had Baby Beluga AND Everything Grows. I know you can fit more material onto a typical disc medium than our old audio cassettes, but these people didn’t try, despite their songs being short, plentiful and totally public domain, they’ll be done in 20 minutes and start over again.
I never expected that these people outside my window complaining about how their seagrass is taller than their hydrangeas could seem reliefesque.
My cousin in Florida had the EXACT same album as the neighbors for his children as my Connecticut neighbors, even though every one of those songs has been recorded and pressed in dreadful compilations thousands of times. Why would this version have influence 2000 miles long? I overheard that it was Baby Einstein brand, which shocked me. Not so much because I never considered knowing the muffin man a pre-requisite to understanding the functions of time and space, but because I thought that company only made mind-mushing television programming. I didn’t know they did sense-softening singalong tapes too.
It has been said, a lot, that Albert Einstein did not make out very well in basic schooling. I believe calling an early childhood development product “Baby Einstein” is correct in this aspect, at least, but only because kids who watch and listen to it will be total morons if it has its way and not because the later school material bores them. You might argue that if he had neglected his work in favor of saying “pollywollydoodle” all the day we never would have had nuclear weapons, but I’m sure Alan Oppenheimer would have figured it out eventually.
Likewise, if Baby Einstein had never been born, someone else would have had these exact same sappy singers singing the same sappy songs. By now we’ve had 20 years of Blues Clues, Elmo and Dora types, an army of “positive influences” who smile all the time, never say anything negative or unordinary, and kids aren’t any smarter or nicer. If anything, they are nastier because their concept of conflict resolution is so warped, and they think anyone who has a grievance with their unique special smiling regularly-self-photographed selves is a deranged “hater” whose criticism cannot possibly have merit.
I used to know a bunch of people who were obsessed with being offended on behalf of others or condemning with complete confidence havers of “terrible opinions.” They made little effort to socially justicify their condemnation, because the reason was evident to club members who already agreed with them, and no one else mattered, and thus nothing was proven to anybody. And they might point to a sentence like that one and say it justifies such responses, without explaining why, and then get offended when asked for an explanation. I would blame that on too much internet sooner than television, but more television certainly would not have helped.
I suppose you could say that I, despite my technologically inferior/implied superior upbringing, am perpetually angry, and look harder than anyone for things to have problems with. It is not so. I find them without looking.
And Baby Einstein does not specify “Albert.” It could be Bob Einstein, TV-I-Don’t-Watch’s Super Dave Osborne, who comes across as kind of a bonehead. And he even has a brother named Albert, who changed his last name specifically to clutter this website entry with me explaining that.
That was all based on an experience I had in 2006. November 2006, four months after a complaint to the Federal Trade Commission from the Campaign for Commercial Free Childhood or something like that about media products that purport themselves to make babies smarter whose claims are utterly unsubstantiated, which eventually led to the demise of the brand. I never heard about that. Did you? I just found out now when I went to find pictures of the rubbish. No, this stuff isn’t treated like it is a big deal. “Oh you say cheap junk from stores is bad for us? What else is new.” Unless it’s a NIPPLE that no toddler could discern was a nipple nor have any reason to feel offended by, considering that it is their instinctual inclination to try and acquire nourishment from them, nobody cares about damaging Our Kids. Hey hey don’t use The F word around my precious biological commodity! Rated E for Everyone!
By the way butt butt butt butt butt butt poop booger fockers
Even a product that serves a purpose and that is supposed to make things less messy and unpleasant is vulgar for no reason.
Actual doctors requesting that we cease a specific deliberate action get no traction unless they are used in the promotion of another product. People will BUY something because a doctor was quoted saying so, but never NOT buy something. Lunchables, Count Chocula and Sunny Dee are still available, right? I realize that I eat fried chicken and drink coke every week, and also am greatly put off by certain words. I am a lost cause.
Supposedly the Disney company recalled the Einsteinian products in 2009 after a research study suggested the things were actually of no benefit to babies, but this recall occurred two years after the company demanded that the study be retracted. And again this was not major national news despite the millions of parents who were duped by the marketing. I have not read the study, and I do not need to, and I do not need to look at “scores” on weird tests to figure out that this nonsense is way too stupid to benefit anybody of any age. I think the “harm” will be cumulative, based on months and months of non-interactive simplistic nonsense that some unreliable outside party insists is beneficial based on this or that thing that the parent of the consumer cannot ask for proof of, and probably would not ask for if they could. Parents love to brag about how smart their babies are while simultaneously treating these babies like they are idiots at best, and maintenance-heavy toys at worst. Babies get smart by overcoming challenges, unless the only way to make the “challenge” bearable is to dullen their perception. This stuff may no longer be sold, but, again, I only found this out when I looked it up just now in 2014. Parents who can’t find braindead dvds for sale (and I am sure they CAN) will locate and submit their children before something just as dumb on broadcast television without considering it might be a bad idea. Those bad scores may be related to some other thing that the sort of parent who buys those dvds does.
But forget Einstein. He is just a meaningless stereotype to people. A goofy non-specifically-European man who never combed his hair, but was smarter than me, smarter than you, because he did some science stuff, right? and was named Einstein. Surely we can find music recommendations unassociated with pseudo-religious devotion.
Gosh the Bob Dylan of regular music isn’t even all that good at it. What does that remark even mean? The guy moans a lot and has messier hair than Einstein?
I didn’t think he had 7 GOOD songs, but apparently those 7 are not only GREAT but there are 63 others that are also GREAT, and presumably some others that were great but not enough so to get on the list. Otay, so why do I only get to hear the 3 or 4 terrible songs when someone else is choosing them? I suppose I might have looked inside this magazine for insight but I was concerned about being able to use this specific complaint in a website entry three years after it was printed.
As far as being sick of the wiggles goes, “jump in the jumpy house” sounds too dumb even for them. And make no mistake, I am here to bury the wiggles, not to praise them. They might request that I jump in the big red car or inquire as to whether I could point my fingers while I did it. I am sure Mr. David is not remarkably worse than others in his field, and may have had nothing to do with this advertisement, but I am not comfortable with marketing that tries to connect something new and untested with something old that may not be questioned.
Golly bees I sure have opinions about minor aspects of child rearing! Thankfully I am not at risk of impregnating anybody or becoming pregnant.
In more relevant news, somebody attempted to give the pregnant party a baby-accessible i-phone control device, and fortunately she declined it.
Being near a pregnant person does remind me that there is positivity and chances for renewal in the world: I realized I have not worn sweat pants in years.
When I first saw this picture, I thought it was a woman pregnant with a green skeleton. I have been told this baby expects to come out with flesh and organs, but it is good to be prepared.
At last, the non-awaited fourth installment to “Worst Selling Video Games.” This is, incidentally, my worst selling recurring feature.
Kirby’s Dream Lard
Space Hairier
Tim Meadow of Honor
Arrrgh-Type
Sadius
Remembered Worlds
Resident Weeble
Pocket Protector Knight Adventures
Ristard
Biosmock
Havest Moron
Super Nap Brothers Snawr
Embrionic Commando
Megamap
Tacky Wheels
Magic of Cher
Kilnation Instinct Breakfast
Prince of Purses
Street Fighter Tuba
Grand Theft Auto on Ice City
Nightquack
Tomb Waiter
Tears for Fears of War
No One Lisps Forever
Capital Gains Taxanadu
Knuckles Arthritix
Earthbrown
Sim Gritty
Raid on Bumbeling Bee
Tetanustris
Shiren the Wonderer
Whining in the Darkness
Landsquawker
Secretion of Mana
Skyrofoamrim
King’s Kvetch
Contrabass Effect
Blaster Mustard
Why does food need to be challenging? And what dork asks this question? Who is so devoted to being trendy by doing unpleasant things to themselves that they seek out ones that aren’t even trendy yet?
I beat the cinnamon and ice bucket challenges at the same time by combining them, swallowing a spoonful of ice water in under a minute.
Kidding, kidding. I beat the cinnamon and ice bucket challenges by not doing something stupid for the amusement of hyperbolic childish misanthropes. These are what happen if you combine America’s Funniest Home Videos and the film Groundhog Day.
You could say America’s Funniest Home Videos already had a Groundhog Day aspect, but they sure found a lot of different ways to hit people in the crotchal zone. Ice buckets have a very limited range.
As the great sage Papa Bear once remarked: it’s not supposed to be fun, it’s supposed to be food! Where’s my sweetsie cola?! I put forth that it is not supposed to be challenging, either. If you find food challenging, it might not be cooked properly. Or it might be broccoli or squash. Nobody wants to watch the broccoli challenge. Maybe if you call it Doritos Presents the Jeep Toyota Summer Squash Concert Series Pepsi.
i imagine some dumb meep filling a bucket with water, freezing it, and then just dropping the bucket on someone. That probably would have been a better picture than this one, which is possible to interpret as me “accepting” the “challenge” in a “funny” way when I think it is a very dopey thing. I should have shown a dope doing it.
“but it’s for CHAIRity!” Much like the hop-a-thon, I do not see how the action causes money to materialize so I will not do it. I thought I mentioned the hopathon before, apparently I did not. I did mention the coerced saving of yogurt lids, but the principle is the same. Somebody who has a set amount of money to donate will REFUSE to donate it if I do not perform some totally unrelated, arbitrary act.
I wrote about the hopathon in relation to some “sponsored” video game sessions, and I apparently thought it was too dumb to mention. I never encountered it outside of the stupid venues where I post drawings on the internet, and imagined it would reflect badly on me to exhibit awareness of it. And thus something dumber came along and forced almost everybody to know about it.
In my first grade I was invited to participate in a hopping competition at the school I attended. To date it is the only real, fair contest I have ever won. Supposedly it was a charitable situation. I did not understand how hopping helped anybody but I knew I could do it. What I did not do was sign up any sponsors. That part did not make sense to me. It still does not, but I at least know the mechanics of it. Apparently I, a 6ish year old child, in addition to hopping, was supposed to thuggishly pester outside parties until they agreed to pay money based on how much I hopped, and then not to me. Had that been explained to me I might have asked why somebody needs me to hop before they will give money to someone else. Is that entertaining to them? To hear that a tiny human hopped many times? Are they to feel enriched and satisfied, and pay in appreciation? There were certainly no spectators. I did it in a hallway outside the principal office. The only others present were inferior hoppers and a suit-wearing man monitoring the hopping. I imagine HE got paid for that. He did not hop.
And imagine if even the people who bothered to get sponsored had not hopped. Would no money have been given? And then whose fault would that have been? The people who failed to hop or the potential donators who refused to do so due to inadequate hoppage? I do not understand why so much roundabout effort is put into guilting people into donating money. I didn’t understand it with yogurt labels that hurt no one (except me when I inadvertently see somebody licking one), and I definitely don’t understand it with momentarily exposing yourself to unseasonably cold water. It does not exhibit “devotion” or “passion” because the pain comes afterward, and is brief. When I lived in New Haven, and turned the heat off at night, and then had a shower in the morning, it was pure horror. That didn’t make me feel like donating money to any foundation, nor did it make the neighbors who watched me do it through the window want to donate. If anything it made me want to hoard more money so I was less worried about using so much heat that the monthly bill was difficult to pay, and maybe get some curtains.
You will probably do more for the cause of world health by not eating this pizza than the fraction of the purchase price that possibly gets donated would. That is NOT what this pizza is for! I say that as somebody who probably ate a hundred or so of these across the years (that was from 2005) when I had a functioning oven. If we go by the model of “donate over someone who did nasty things to themselves for no good reason,” then you may go right ahead, but the consequences always came later.
There is more regularly an event called “the penguin plunge” in which dorks jump into freezing water after taking their clothes off. This is just as stupid and has just as little causal relationship to money appearing as hopping or bucketing, but apart from a single local news filler story per year, nobody tries to make it my problem.
In the end, people are supposed to be impressed by your determination, I suppose. If you just jump in a lake or dump a tiny fraction of a lake on yourself it is over pretty fast. And if, in the case of the video game fans, you just do what you would have done anyway, then it is completely meaningless. The person in my example didn’t even show it all. He insisted that he played video games for two hours while offline. Well gosh so did I. I have probably played video games for thousands of hours throughout my life. And remember all the pizzas that I ate, long before any pink ribbons got involved! That is the kind of philanthropist I am.
I think I felt bad for the guy when I realized his other posts were mostly about the effects of his untreated diabetes, so I did not press him on the topic or save pictures of it. But here is a story of somebody who was “paralyzed” and got dorks to give him $20000 to play video games, before accidentally showing he was not actually paralyzed, and then people stopped paying. My question: why does being paralyzed make you eligible to get $20000 to play video games? And why does not being paralyzed make you immediately ineligible for it? It is a scam either way! The man was not playing them with his mouth, for eat’s sakes. Why would anybody donate money because anyone else sat in place and fiddled around for hours, if the fiddling produced nothing? Imagine if I requested donations for this! Imagine if [email protected] was my paypal address. Wouldn’t I seem like a useless hippie bohemian who gave nothing to society? Be glad you only imagined it!
I suppose on some level all entertainment fields are scams, and I should be glad that production companies and record labels do not have exclusive control over collecting money for the distribution of wretched garbage. But this still comes down to gaining your legitimacy through someone else’s product. Somebody else’s gimmick that you inherited or adopted. And from what I have personally witnessed (on the topic of video games), the sight is not all that spectacular. People wear trashy clothes (and you know because the person is recorded next to the game output, for some reason), and they grunt and breath a lot, and are not necessarily very good at the video games, and the deal is shown unedited. I am just supposed to be in awe of them as people, even though they are strictly regular at best. If I am going to observe a stranger poke about with what we should not deny are toys, they had better be gosh darn beebly good at it or uniquely entertaining in the way they do it. And at that point I could probably take it for about 20 minutes at most.
I remember, a few years ago, when I found a video series called “battle of olympus blind run.” I thought, from the title, it meant a blind person was playing the video game called Battle of Olympus, trying to get through it on sound cues and memory alone. That might justify it happening in 32 ten minute installments, and the footage showing the character falling into pits and starting over constantly. And still probably not been too much fun to look at. But no, it was less than that: just some dork who had never played the game before who thought his imprint was so precious that all five hours of it needed to be documented and preserved. And again totally unedited and unrehearsed, despite it not being streamed live. At least when something is live you can potentially interact with the dork you are allowing to waste your living.
I had a HUGE problem with “let’s play video games and FAIL,” but at least those ended fairly briefly, with the no-effort glory-seeking twit giving up in shame. I may even have criticized it for that, so let me clarify: You don’t need to give up at the game, but you don’t need to film your hours and hours of successive failures, either.
or see it like that.
I am sad to report that this very punchable lizard has rather a history of transforming into stupid things for no reason and then complaining about it to ME, like it is my fault or responsibility. Naturally, it does not learn from its mistakes.
I take special issue with this default position. Very proud! Hands on hips like it thinks it has the answers, and a condescending smile directed at those it thinks have less answers than it. it really thinks its opinion matters to people! I see it in that pose all the time.
It does not learn from its mistakes. It will continue transforming into a duck, looking sad (in my direction), then being abruptly happy again when it recovers,
and resume the proud satisfied pose that implicated it to begin with.
How is being a duck worse than what it already was, anyway? It is just PROUD to be a dumb smiling lizard because that is what it always was and it thinks attributes that it had no part in acquiring are its greatest accomplishment. What a scumbag! A pity it never considers transforming into a smart and reasonable lizard.
I propose immediate harsh sanctions against the nation of lope. Muffin and pumpkin imports are to be cut off entirely as of this announcement. I am not at this juncture advocating putting boots on the ground as this reptileprobate would probably just comment on what splendid boots they were, unconcerned that its stupid feet prevent it from wearing boots. Perhaps its feet will devolve into digitless lumps like its hands are in that previous picture. As long as it can smile and be pathetic I do not see why I should raise my expectations of it.
I have this picture open in another browser tab. I keep forgetting about it and then making very alarming laugh-noises and exclaiming “Iron Eagle!” in an increasingly high pitched voice when I unexpectedly find it again. It is the video cassette box art for Iron Eagle III: Aces,
akadaka Aces: Iron Eagle III
and sometimes just
ACES when for some baffling reason we want to pretend there weren’t two warning shots before this one.
I am told that this larger edition of the picture was for the original theatrical advertisement poster, which also means that after two whole Iron Eagles this was still able to get itself into theatres. I can’t think why it was cropped for the video release. The more picture I see, and the less obscured it is by lettering, the better it looks and the less cheap its 1992 pre-Photoshop effects look. Photoshop existed in 1992 but I doubt the people at fault could afford it or internet to pirate it on at that time. At best they hired someone who was really good with scissors to make a collage.
In fact I went to a school called Aces at one point and I tell you this picture just about sums it up. That is not true, but maybe when I am yet older and do not quite remember, this explanation will suffice and I will not investigate the matter more deeply.
I attended in a hope to provide challenge for the staff, because as anyone in the field will tell you, sometimes teaching is way too easy. I know some of you like your cinnamon and bucket challenges, I prefer the Iron Eagle challenge.
What intrigues me so about this situation? Is it the enormous, legless man floating/propped up behind the tiny woman? Is it the man’s goofy facial expression and Lipton tea officer hat? Is it just the name “Iron Eagle” combined with my knowledge that he IS Iron Eagle because his colonel hat has an Iron Eagle on it? That real colonels actually have silver eagles, but this guy is so corny that he only gets a rinkity dinkity eagle made of a much cheaper metal? That the series is named after him even though he wasn’t actually the main character of the first volume? He looks so concerned. Like he just realized he is Iron Eagle and all the ramifications that involves. That was a magical period; there were two iron eagles already, and you wonder “where can it go from here?” never realizing you’re not even done yet;
there’s still Iron Eagle: on the Attack yet to be made and released. Do you grasp that? It hasn’t even been MADE yet. Iron Eagle is STILL in active production. ANYTHING can happen. Plenty more iron, plenty more eagle still to come.
Only ONE MAN will suffice! Who is it? Iron Eagle! It is no longer a remark on the unlikelihood that he would be promoted to general and receive a non-bird for his hat; by this point it is HIS NAME. Don’t tell me everyone in the movie calls him “Chappy” (because that would mean you had seen the film and have a more important destiny than reading dumb web pages) to me he is only Iron Eagle.
As before, it was initially presented as a non-numbered original production in the apparent hope of appealing to sequel-snubbers, with the marketers eventually having to admit, yes, this IS Iron Eagle IV, so that sequel enthusiasts could figure it out.
And if Roman numerals are too highbrow for you, we’ll put a regular 4 on the
You can tell Iron Eagle IV and Iron Eagle on the Attack are the same movie because the ONE MAN tagline is unchanged, even though in both cases Iron Eagle has visibly failed to prevent something from blowing up while he poses for the picture. Maybe he wants to make sure we understand: He IS Iron Eagle, the one man, and until we meet his demands, things are going to be pretty lousy.