page 59 of this. Look at it, if you like, before you read what is beneath here, if you dare.
Excessive “hatch” detail is secret code for “I do not feel like drawing a background here”
If I had known how many pages were going to have these gnomes on them I probably would have made them lizard or camel people or given them a meeting place that was more interesting and easier to draw.
And now I have enough gnomes for half to split off and form a rival gnome gang. It seems a bit more like an army than a gang with that many members, although they are at a birthday party.
the rightmost characters in the last frame I added very late, since there was too much space free (and then after I tried to add them there was not enough space!) and I did not know where the drink had come from. It struck me that the one with sunglasses would be much more appropriate to have objecting the comment about bad attitudes.
The last row is not necessary, and i like that it is evenly on one row, so it can easily be removed. However, I wanted this to fill one page, since I think that saves less trouble later, if scenes do not mix in such a way.
Herge did that a lot in his later Tintin stories that were not made on weekly deadlines, but they also were planned out in full before they were drawn and forced into a restrictive 62 page format that required them to be economical. Restrictive for him and his team, anyway (from my viewpoint, at least, but I never read any official statement about that); some Frencho-Belligerent comic folk went with a 47 page format and still had lots of space. My space is imaginary and unlimited and I still run out!
Indeed, such was the vexation caused by this page that I barely drew it on paper at all. I feel like I am forgetting how to do that. Very little was coming together like that, and I used no ink. I never really knew how to do that.
However, compared to the first “bar” scene from, somehow, a few years ago by now (also known as about an hour ago), the coloring is much better. I used such subdued tones before, and the pictures look covered in dust. If it was deliberate, I must have been trying to account for my instinctual garishness, but I did not quite succeed. The garishness will always escape, as the current state of the page link page reveals. I will only defeat it by learning its tricks and shame it with my superiority into compliance. As the defacto parent of the comic strip I will make it think its rebellious preferences are “uncool” by pretending I share them. One message I should have taken from video games is that “sealing” an evil is never sufficient and it always come back. I am ineligible for real procreation so I cannot rely on descendants to finish paying off my evil-slaying debts.
This makes me think that I should drop the pretense of black outlines for part “3” and produce new pages as I have been producing the redrawn old pages, by forming objects out of colors, which is closer to the “normal” process I use for making imagery. Actual ink looks very good, but if I no longer use it then ultimately nothing is gained from pretending to, once consistency with preceding material is not a factor. I was not pretending at first, but on this page I most certainly was.
Outlines are good if you hire someone else to color or you make outlines very fast, or very well, but I make them slowly, badly, and probably spend about as much time coloring regardless of their presence. My outlines are generally incomplete when I start coloring, and continue to change as my perception of the page changes through its stages. I certainly do not make enough money from all of this to hire others to form my half-brained mush into something solid, but I can probably make more presentable mush.
In any event the next page should have more smiling blob people that my skills are better adapted to on it.
I get ideas when I go for walks. I think “maybe I could execute a backflip right here” in the street, and then I think that I will probably fail, and so badly that it kills me, and then people will wonder why there was suddenly a dead person in the road. Perhaps investigators could determine that I had fallen, but would they be able to figure out that I had tried to jump in a stupid way first? By the angle of damage and apparent velocity of the impact? Or would it just be “ruled an accident?” Why am I considering so far beyond my inevitable foolish death? I would hate the populace to think I had become dead for no reason. I was TRYING to DO something specific! I hate to be misunderstood, especially when I am dead.
This comic will run on your Amstrad system.
At GNC the store, you need to specially ask for a health supplement that is not candy. Everything in here is kool aid/nesquik drink mix, undersized baby ruth bars or magically nastier jolly-ranchers. If you are legitimately concerned about your nutrition you should eat actual food. You would feel better and still have money left over to spend on real candy. Even if you paid somebody to make it for you it would probably cost less. GNC means “General Nutrition Center” but the sort of nutrition offered is rather bizarre.
I realize these are called “supplements,” which means they are meant to be used in addition to a normal diet, but captain crunch claims it is part of a complete breakfast. I am inclined to believe most people do not use these in that way because they get drawn in by mentions in this sort of publication, and also it is easier to laugh at the idea of people being reasonable if they are not.
Dr. Dan CNN BVD is way too enthusiastic about red yeast rice
If you knew me in middle school, you know I will put anything in my body if a bunch of guys with big shoulders and a token little guy who has rich parents tell me to do it while they laugh at me. Now things are different; I require them to have white jackets on.
Or blue ones, sir, please, whatever you want.
Hey did you know that GNC delivers for FREE? no probably not because if you were paying attention to financial matters you would notice that you just paid $25 for a little bottle of rice. You can buy a 60 pound barrel of rice for that money. It would not be RED, of course, but if you starve yourself effectively enough you may be able to cough up some blood on to it.
Somebody at some point in the management chain is certain I will magically steal their recipe for yeast rice with my camera, so the employee on the job had to task of suggesting that I not take pictures of the product, even though I think it would have done a better service to their business if they had stopped me from taking the first picture. In any event this was probably the least de-humanizing “do not take pictures of our property” demand I had experienced.
I am sure you are curious: the most de-humanizing “do not take pictures of our property” demand was when I was friendless, drenched in some rather unreasonable rain, cold, lost and hopelessly behind on school assignments that I could not tend to for another whole day of wasteful anxiety, in an apparently affluent and therefore more entitled to make visitors hate themselves section of London, amidst my ill-ehhhed Paris visit of July 2013. Scorned by the rich, dry, well-fed scumbags with no regard for
no please I have had enough red yeast rice I am feeling better now please!
Anyway I started to type that story for here and it was surprisingly depressing!
In fact most things related to my French experiments were depressing. Sometimes I worked harder than was required or likely to be appreciated to make them so.
1 I dwell in an apartment with my two brothers whom I rarely see. I am sad and ridiculous.
2 My friends and I, together we never talk on the telephone. They think I am boring.
3 The American men watch the French films, but they do not understand. They eat always.
4 The American women prepare dinner for the men. They (females) are unhappy.
The firefox spellchecker, unaware that I had switched from English, insisting that every word was wrong, may have had a subconscious inferiority effect on me. If forced to talk about myself I was unwilling to present a false impression of my existence. And it got sadder than that since one of the brothers left right away, to be replaced by slightly less trustworthy sorts and the other was barely around to sort out the replacement, whom I imagined it was not my position to criticize since I had not invited him in there, and if I had he would have been my GUEST and yet less deserving! So when actual depressing things happened to me in France or as a direct result of me going there I ought to have been prepared to explain, but the more depressing fact was that I failed to pick up any of the language in two years beyond the ability to read a few words that pertained directly to depressing aspects of my then home life and they had little resemblance to the circumstances of my later depressing outside of home life.
I wonder if I wrote things like that because I wanted to make people concerned so they would ask how I was doing.
It was always upsetting to find out they just dropped in to see what condition my toilet was in.
A series of more overt outbursts recently on the internet, the sort I avoided at people for on Livejournal 10 years ago made me realize no, I do not want most people to ask how I am doing. It will be unpleasant unless I am doing better, and when I am doing better I will feel less bad about not being asked. The problem solves itself!
I have an idea. I will change the subject.
Here is a depressing fountain.
I will have to try again later!
Fortunately I at least have mildly consistent internet access.
Oh hooray. And now for the first time, unlike the previous occasion on which I suggested it, every page of the questionable bimshwellian comicoid is now colored. It took a surprisingly long time, because every year I become a bit more adept at finding things wrong that nobody else would have a problem with that are ultimately beside all points, unless they are completely remote from the points. If my skill at amending these imaginary errors also increases it is at a rate which is not substantial. This looks better than it did overall than before, anywhy. Better overall; I am becoming conscious now of some non-contained text that is rather hard to read against the now non-white, surroundings. In fact they seem surprisingly dark when viewed at this size.
Also, a perhaps superfluous twiddler page that will only announce matters specifically related to the comic, or possibly other things with pertinence to brightly colored imps, but withold my abbreviated, frustrated summaries of things that are better said in full in places where no one will see them (here), in contrast to the no no absolutely no-torious zinkugel.
ah ya know what I’ll tell you tomorrow
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december 28:
watch as 3 months of “get ready for christmas” have abruptly transitioned into 6 months of “you’re too fat! get ready for summer”
Whatsamatter there Donald? Need a hand? Oh huh huh that’s right I DON’T HAVE ONE!
These two must hate each other.
They will never band together to take down the man who mocks them and demands their obedience from a position of luxury. Rise up!
Grah no get small again! Finally a store display accurately reflects how sad these would be if most people actually bought and set them up.
the only thing more horrifying than a face appearing in my drink is having to personally grasp it by the eye-voids to remove it.
Another kitchen implement that has a face for some/no reason. I feel like I have seen it somehwere before, though.
Nope, my mistake.
What? Oh hello! Yes, I thought that was you. Well get over it, it is not my fault you look so much alike! Some people are sensitive about everything.
I need to get away from them!
calm down!
january
february
march
april
may
june
july
august
september
october
november
december
angry new year!
stop that! There is already more than enough stupid in here to sum up several years. Go home!
I mean go to someone else’s home!
Somebody wanted a scene at a specifically named bar with a few specific items in it, in addition to “[my] characters.” But why? I can only presume this requester works for a competing institution, which these reprobates are absolutely not welcome at.
Market research has determined that processed artificial cheese goop is not disgusting enough, so this graphic that emphasized its unnatural color and staining properties as well as its unearthly drippy ooze-properties was called necessary.
Like every other bad thing, dyed chemical slop sludge now encourages its users to think they are talented, clever and powerful just for liking it. People don’t criticize cheez-whiz for being a science fiction nazi-like horror that goes against everything your intestines stand for, right? They’re just “haters” who can’t handle how unique and epic it is and that you also are for using it, and having simplified the issue like that you thus need not consider trying to see your behavior from another perspective.
It is true that I hate liquid processed cheese product and that this is not a nuanced issue that I have researched at length. However, some things simply deserve to be hated.
The first frozen burrito laboratory-tested and guaranteed to cause post-traumatic stress disorder. Nothing to hate there. I didn’t say I was going to give examples of hatable things! This cheese flavor is at least non-wet. My disapproval for cheese as colored ooze is enough that I temporarily overlook my disappoval for cheese as colored dust, though not enough that I accept salt-shaker as a funamental factor in nacho creation.
Anyway, which of these bad Barbie Christmas movies should we buy? Be not concerned that you cannot read the labels under this horrible lighting; these covers were not designed for readers.
It is BarbieTM AS Eden StarlingTM. But you know it is really BarbieTM playing the part because BarbieTM‘s charisma and screen presence are unmistakable, and you would know that if you had been watching
The Barbie Channel. Nobody bloops and polls quite like Barbie. The first bloop was likely the sound of Barbie dropping her TM into the pool.
Excuse me, that is Turbie. Totally different. Turbie does not get to pretend to be other people on film. Turbie just wears a folded towel out of a plastic bag on her head and pretends this is an astounding innovation. Barbie only shills for new and wonderful things like Barbie.
Do not be confused since they have both been seen on tv; that could just mean Turbie has been arrested on Cops 2.0 or sold into slavery on QVC. Turbie has never been seen on the Barbie Channel. The Barbie studio guards have been ordered to arrest Turbie on sight, and equip her with an iron mask and escort her to the north tower. You will never be king, Turbie! Your TM shall be confiscated and offered as turbute to the one true bie on the block.
To get back to the main topic, as a psychologically buried alternate personality of Barbie, Eden Starling’s name is marketable and trademarked, despite being a stand-in for Ebenezer Scrooge who caused much suffering during the prime years of his life and is not somebody whom children should emulate, because unlike Ebenezer Scrooge, Eden Starling is Barbie and pretty and perfect and glamorous and doesn’t have a scary name. Eden Starling knows that it’s what is inside that counts, which is why her cruelty did not “freeze [her] old features” as happened to Scrooge. This film shows that you can turn your life around and be positive so long as you’re rich, young, unblemished and Barbie. I am curious how this handles the section in which Barbie orders a peasant to go out and buy Christmas dinner for her clerk costume designer and childhood friend.
“Do you know whether they’ve sold the prize can of Red Bull that was hanging up there? Not the little can; the big one?”
“What, the one as big as me?” returned the boy girl.
“What a delightful boy girl!” said Scrooge Starling. “It’s a pleasure to talk to him her. Yes, my buck doe! That should suffice to keep all the house hold awake all the day and provide ample liquid material to comprise the bileous humours which shall accompany more solid, less desirable nourishments during the traditional post-meal expulsion”
Barbie’s caloric intake fits in well with Victorian London, I now imagine. This is probably the only Christmas Carol adaptation in which the hardened protagonist could abuse people by encouraging them to take better care of themselves.
According to Barbie Movies Wiki, instead of Jacob Marley, Eden Starling is visited by Aunt Marie, whose cruelty in life was forbidding Eden/Barbie to celebrate Christmas. The ghost of Christmas Present informs Barbie that her coworkers tease her but actually want to be like her. In Christmas yet-to-come, Barbie fires her staff and the replacements “fail to live up to her expectations.” Barbie’s former servant became a famous fashion designer but would not help Barbie due to her past selfishness.
The moral of this story: be nice to Barbie, so Barbie can be nice to other people who will become famous so that they can also be nice to Barbie and not leave her to depend on people who aren’t good enough for Barbie, everyone’s idol. Instead of dying alone and having nobody want to go to her funeral and her belongings plundered, with children left to die from her stinginess, Barbie just loses some money and though she receives no charity her former friend will at least acknowledge her existence. I am fascinated by the idea of an official Mattel “visibly poor” destitute Barbie but I could only turn up parody editions while searching for “poor barbie” and I am certainly not going to watch this thing, although if I had done that instead of writing this I would have been done by now and would have been too heart-warmed to dare analyze it.
Barbie Movies Wiki also inadvertently contradicts the hype on the DVD box proclaiming this as the first Barbie Christmas movie, which was actually Barbie Nutcracker. Maybe Ken had the right idea all along.
Ah good, TMothy is back. Yet I wonder: What would happen if Mattel printed the name “barbie” without adding TM afterward? WHAT WOULD HAPPEN? Why does TM NEED to be there EVERY time? We know Barbie is powerful. She can handle it.
No foe has been able to stand up to Barbie since she was bitten by a radioactive box. They try and they fall down laughing.
So cruel, and yet so necessary.
I am thinking only of your best interests, bimshwel. Why will you not do the same for me?
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How am i supposed to succeed in a world where 30 million people would look at this once willingly, or even slightly fewer millions than that more than once?
I don’t know what this video is; the content is beside the point. The point is that I never make it to the content because I don’t want to click on it. The content does not matter, unless multi-million people said to each other “hey watch this video; I swear it is good despite the unsightly punchable shouting scruffbag in the preview.” I did not have a person show it to me, just a lifeless robot that knows nothing of my interests but thinks it does just because it tracks the imaginary things that my mouse point touches.
The fashionably sad “goths” of the 1990s and the marketably sad “emos” they begot for the 2000s have somehow led to a giggly, artifically happy and positive yet somehow consistently vulgar, ostensibly progressive but subtly traditional-gender-role-reinforcing* “cuteness” that would make me vomit if I had a functioning gag reflex.
*I think I was referring to the tendency for those born male to disregard tradition-mandated ideas of what sort of activities and entertainment they should like but still maintain horrible facial hair. They don’t grow full beards but they keep the hair short so it seems more like dirt than something that had a biological function at one point. I can’t get over that they are alright with being men but won’t take advantage of the opportunity to have great wizardly beards. This may be a more irrational gripe than usual. I will let you know if I remember that I meant something else.
But it is worse than goths because it isn’t a subculture and there is nothing conspicuously, obliviously weird enough about it to laugh at. It is too common to not be normal. There is no bizarre wardrobe to go with it. Their fashion is notable for its lack of notability. They wear jeans pants and ugly t-shirts and draw pictures of themselves wearing that and using the internet and drawing pictures of themselves posting pictures of themselves on the internet. They thrive on being totally average, and they thrive on celebrating that they thrive on that.
Do you think I thrive on not liking that? I do not! I want to stop being aware of these things. I know I will never like them. They come looking for me. Because they are proud of themselves and have no self-regulatory functions they are highly likely to shove their existence into everyone else’s and dismiss anyone who criticizes their behavior as a “hater.” They’ve had Barney and Dora and Elmo telling them that they are special and unique and important since before they had any opportunity or means to do anything special, unique or important, so they believe that and will not believe otherwise, and they don’t have to because everyone else they know has had the exact same experience and they relate to each others’ unconditional enthusiasm. It is easy to enjoy life when you enjoy mediocrity. I should wish that I did, but I have had something better and was spoiled by it, and it left me behind. Satisfaction demands that I work for it, and then it laughs at me and goes drinking/clubbing/boring with mediocrity anyway.
I left this behind for two months, not wanting to post in a bad mood, and when I came back to it all i could think was how much I wanted to slap/shave this guy. Then I left it for two more months because I was busy with unsatisfying things but somehow it was still here waiting and taunting me. I am more mad now than then!
This is what happens when “geeks” become “cool.” Everything that’s totally uninteresting and not cool in the slightest amount is potentially “awesome” or “epic.”
What were the old biggest geek stereotypes? They lived with their parents, they didn’t clean themselves, and they had difficulty procreating. Well when everybody is a geek the third one solves itself, but the other two, essentially, acting like children, just get worse.
It probably is not fair to pick on this one fellow because he is probably singing and that’s just a face people make when they are singing, I suppose. Unless you are an anime character with a naturally triangle-shaped mouth, mid-song is the only time when that face should show up. But then the oaf might be yelling “AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GUYS fuck.” And if he is singing, I still don’t want to look. I don’t want to look at anyone’s vain contextless head inside a room made out of communion wafers just emitting noise, but least of all this one’s. I hate that! You know I hate that! If everything I have said is a total exaggeration, the basic, initial fact remains that I do not want to look at this.
he looks like those stupid advice aliens from the space ship levels of The Lost Vikings.
He looks like Duke from Paladin’s Quest.
He looks like Tina Fey from this weird package of yogurt. What did the photography director say to Tina Fey? “Open your mouth like you are eating the yogurt whose label you are appearing on while trying to look at your own ear.”
This then reminds me of ronald mcdonald ecstatic to be drowning in apples and abandoned and dirty.
He looks like a model for Campbell’s Bag of Douchebag™ soup brand.
That guy back there, he looks like the only opportunity to use an uppercut against Don Flamenco. He looks like Timothy Speed Levitch. He looks like one of those people who every couple of years tries to get me to watch the pilot for “a kitty bobo” on youtube and laments that it was never made into a full series. He looks like someone who knows what dresden kodak is. He looks like someone who acted sad when Billy Mays got dead. He looks like somebody who would be in an “updated” revival of Rent.
I cannot compete with this because I do not understand it. I am going to dig a hole. I am finally going to start living under a rock as hacky writers across all disciplines who think their own self-focused niche is the toast of all towns have insisted I have been doing for the past 20 years anyway.
Unless you’ve been living under a rock to see that I am not there you probably assume I have been living under a rock.
What a dork of a gargoyle! With buck teeth, at that; you fool! That is less than three quarters of a euro! You can’t buy anything with that!
Gargoyle trouble is nothing new around here, alas. And the news only gets worse.
I was told the Paris trip would “change [my] life” but nothing could have prepared me to learn such ancient secrets. There is so much unknown knowledge in the world. But I must look and acknowledge.
And maybe I want him wear a wizard hat and big silly earmuffs but I imagine I won’t get mentioned on the heffalump post for saying so. I like to imagine the blue lumps in the lower corners are this person’s hands in boxing gloves.
I will not watch this oaf’s head and his closet and his cans of cooking spray and his television screen with bottles in front of it. I do not take obvious advice from somebody in such a hurry to video record his mouth any time words come out of it that he is oblivious to his own surroundings. My own room is a mess but if I were putting pictures of it on the internet I would know my room was a mess prior to somebody else seeing these pictures. I certainly do not take orders to receive advice from sources with really crummy taste in advice.
Then I don’t give a fuh hyphen hyphen kuh what she thinks. How about that! Or is that the whole point? I don’t know because the thoughts of others no longer matter to me! We can just scowl at each for eternity, would you prefer that? Don’t bother answering!
Aren’t rappers typically characterized by being vulgar and not caring what anyone thinks? how is this special? saying a rapper uses harsh language and minimally regards the views of others is like saying an anthropomorphous video game animal runs fast and has a bad attitude.
and shouldn’t “Socially Conscious” include giving a hump what people think? We need social consciousness to protect ourselves from people who don’t give flocks of consideration to what we think. How can you be conscious and willfully oblivious simultaneously? Am I supposed to be glad and want to support the career of this person who wants me to know that she thinks my perception is worthless?
To be fair, during the previous occasion in which I lost my mind over a stupid huffington puffington ost headline, it turned out to be a ruse just to get people to click on the thing, and the entire article an empty circle that only existed to support a provocative headline. I will not be the person to determine how this situation has been misrepresented to DARE me into looking at it because in the end I don’t enjoy having people yell at me angrily regardless of the beat behind it.
I am not going to support this click economy anymore. If the only way to make me look at something is to imply that I am inadequate, so that I must investigate, so to sort out the details and convince myself of my adequacy or become adequate through acquiring the knowledge, then I will simply not look. I do not know this writer and this writer does not know me. The headline writer cannot even decide on the most effective way to not type out the ehhhhhf word but still get internet edginess credit for implying that they said it (I find that 
works well). The acidic individual may well give consonants and punctuation marks what I think if we met but I know that we have not. I wrote up something specifically on the topic, we will see if I get to it.
is there no fuck trigger? Or do you tell people who ask for one that they are exaggerating the state of their psychological condition for attention and sympathy?
Why exuberantly celebrate this anyhow? are you glad that you need trigger warnings? A more appropriate title would be “oh trigger warnings. I must resignedly admit that these are preferable to being triggered.”
No, I am offended, or perhaps disgusted by the hyperbolic, always in love or always in hate attitude. Why sit on the ground nude in cold darkened grottoes if it puts you in a mood like this? Maybe I am just concerned.
My gripe is specifically with the gerund ing form, used so ubiquitously that it lost most meaning. It was meant to add emphasis, but since it never was not present, it only emphasized a lack of self-control or self-awareness. A desire to be unpleasant toward anybody who is not totally in on your babyish self-indulgence.
I think you just need to calm down.
Click here for the shocking exposé
Our department’s latest questionable deed. There is a story to it, in the sense that me typing about roughly the same topic for a long time constitutes a story, but I lack the linguistic coherence to put it together at the moment, and recent history has shown that “the moment” often does not arrive, so you are just going to have to look at this and deal with it.
Sometimes I wake up with an idea and think “that will be quick. I can do that and worry about other things. It will be so quick that it will not matter if the idea ultimately makes no sense or is more alarming than funny.”
page 19 of that
I made some questionable decisions here, but i am trying to question them in advance more than in some previous days. I decided to add in some space-filling nonsense rather than aim for maximum efficiency, which would have resulted in some frames currently planned for the next new old page to be on this page. This also allows me to, for now, have perfect continuity link-up with the old old pages. After the last few updates, the following non-redrawn page would contain redundant or contradictory material. Further, in an event that surprised everybody (with the only person paying attention being me), all the extra material on these 19 pages balanced out perfectly with the smaller, inconsistent size of the old 19 pages, so that the next page is still 20.
I should be able to get out an update for Monday the gosh eleventh, unless something stupid has already happened.
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I was going to speak today about some of the election day signs I had seen recently but news with more bearing on society has come to my attention: Another Air Buddies sequel.
You might be aware that “Air Bud” was a real dog who could do a simple trick that involved jumping and assisting an already tossed ball through a basketball-themed hanging hoop, and a more impressive trick that involved tolerating John Stamos. You might also recall that through a trail of events too stupid to be analyzed without special protection (imagine a solar eclipse of inanity; you cannot take it in all at once without taking permanent damage) , a fictionalized version of Air Bud begat 5 offspring dogs who could legitimately play all manner of sports and also talk, which these days is no longer in itself an adequately impressive skill for a fictional dog to have.
Consider that the Air Buddies first appeared in Air Bud 3: World Pup, released in 2000. Or don’t, and I will in your place. The original Air Bud dog was 9 to 12 years old when he became dead. The air buddies are now older than their father was at the time of his death, but are still puppies. Never mind that Air Bud was dead before Air Bud 3 entered production, and these puppies must then be children of the replacement Bud. That does not matter.
oh pog, does anything matter?
What matters is that these puppies could speak human language, play every sport, and never got old, and that wasn’t enough. Now, these dogs are superheroes, with [additional] magical powers, and costumes to match.
These dogs have secret identities. Nobody must know that these 5 talking dogs with magical powers that are puppies permanently are in reality the 5 talking dogs that magically can play sports and also never mature into adulthood. Because that would compromise the safety of their families of non-magical, regularly-aging dogs (even the replacement Bud stopped appearing after 2008’s Snow Buddies, which is ironic considering all the puppies that did not survive production). Mysteriously, their new powers such as the ability to create dogsized clothing, since letting anyone else do it would give up the secret identities) are granted by rings, but nothing is said of the other mystical devices that grant the power for pawed quadrupeds to comfortably and effectively equip jewelry designed for human fingers that do not regularly bear one fourth of the owner’s weight.
This film carries the insipirational message “you don’t need super powers to be a superhero,” despite the premise conspicuously and deliberately contradicting that.
Its true power is making a 3d-animated movie titled “epic” in 2013 seem original and inspired by comparison, so that I don’t even acknowledge it for three paragraphs, although super buddies tempt fate by making certain to use the word anyhow. Or maybe that is simply a condition for gaining financial backing now.
You know (for if you did not previously I now alert you), after five Police Academy movies they stopped making money. The problem with those is that they didn’t target a demographic that would gladly watch the same movie repeatedly, over and over until the sun turned into a prune. A demographic whose choices are commonly made for it, whom nobody is concerned about insulting or utterly blotting out the intelligence of. The formula is perfect: a parent, or a friend (enemy?) of a parent will see a movie like this and buy it with no thought and imagine a child will want to watch it. One less gift to buy later, right? It will not be vetted for quality or originality, ever, and this can be repeated every single year, even though no child should stay that easily entertained for so many years as to risk running out of these. But that could be pre-911 thinking on my part; the more kids are raised on limitless quantities of trash, the more likely they are to grow into adults who think trash is good, which is very good for business, because trash is easy to create. Those people who made all the hacky Cinderella and Lion King sequels must feel like idiots now, wasting all that time and effort redoing the same schlock repeatedly but with different sets of characters in different environments when but 1 done with minimal effort would suffice.
This is the seventh Air Buddies film, which does NOT include the first Air Bud series, which included five films . This also does not include the two Santa Paws films [that we know of], which are themselves spun off from the air buddies spin off series. Almost all of these were directed by somebody named Robert Vince, who seems to have literally come from nowhere.
Outside this series, he directed four movies with chimpanzees as main characters (three of them about a chimpanzee who can also play every sport, while the fourth one is a ninja) plus a single movie about a dog who neither speaks nor plays sports, but does fulfill another standby of the nobody cares if a g-rated movie is dumb genre by having kids keep the dog a secret from their parents for [maybe a] reason. They probably keep the dog a secret because he can’t talk or play sports.
As best I can figure out, these all make heaps and beeps of money, but criticism is subdued because they aren’t released to theaters, and are “for kids” anyway, though that Smurfs sequel still made a profit of 200 million dollars, and that was 200 million dollars LESS than the first one. There is literally no financial incentive to make a movie –or any manner of product– for children that is not idiotic, tacky and proud of itself.
If you add in 3 Beverly Hills Chihuahuas and Raise the Woof, The Disney company has, since 2006, put out twelve talking dog films. Talking dog movies are nothing new, but there has never been this much nothing new at any previous point in history. I exclude Bolt, because that is legally a cartoon, in which it is not significant that a dog speaks, though it also carries the message that you don’t need super powers to be a hero, and also does not consider the dog’s speech to be a super power. I consider a “talking dog film” to be one in which real dogs, or computer puppets meant to be thought of as real, are presented as if they speak English and do extraordinary deeds in situations that are meant to be remotely plausible. Three of theses were released just in 2012. There are adolescent-age children growing up who think this is normal. They have no memory of a time when there wasn’t a new canine enunciation fest every single year. Additionally, there are five editions in a Tinker Bell series, with 2 more already in production. The sixth was going to be released this year, but was shoved aside to make room for Planes (about talking, celebrity-voiced airplanes), a spinoff from the Cars series (about talking, celebrity-voiced cars), which Disney doesn’t even own, and also aims to have its own series.
What does all this mean? It means that I need to stop bringing my camera into Wal Mart. Even if I only go in there three times a year it is statistically probable that there will be a “new” bad talking dog movie for sale and I will have to write about it. Even this website object is an uninspired sequel. No more talking dogs!
I will not. I want you to leave.
I planned to make this with oil paint two years ago. I think if I had tried I only would have finished it now anyway, though the nature of paint mixing (especially with the way I apply it) may have resulted in better color cohesion. But I would like to figure out how to have that come along more naturally without mixing, because I do not enjoy using actual paint a whole lot.
I feel like this picture is on the verge of working, and you may have observed that I have posted other pictures on the same verge. I still have hope this will be the year I murder the verge.
More recently I had this waiting for two weeks since I was not sure what to do with the “pathway” in the foreground. I added that [today] and now I like the rest of the picture less. That is an improvement, though, since usually I like the last thing I did least.
Having all my big stupid pictures hosted locally now makes it a slightly more logical and justifiable process to make “normal” website updates of them. That text is cloned, however; the gallery entry can say something totally different. There is probably a way to make that specific data show up here, but I do not know how to do that, and it probably looks less unprofessional if I keep this sort of inconsequential rambling out of the official matters that we might presume people will see someday. Not today, though, hopefully. Probably not tomorrow, either. I have the patience for CSS editing approximately once a year and evidently it was last week.