One of these days
================================================
page 14 of that
This doesn’t tell you anything that the old one didn’t except that apparently I can bloody well make one of these in under a week if someone else has already done all the thinking (specifically, me eight years ago) and I’m no use anyplace else.
Also it is more colorful than the older new old pages that showed the same scenery, which is great! I’m looking forward to working over these pages a fourth time to get everything consistent.
I do have an unremarkable excuse to not excise those pictures of the lizard driving along some road which is clearly in a totally different place in search of the exact same place, or at least I thought I typed one out a year or two years ago.
7-3-2012 10:48pmish people are singing/clapping along with “WHOOMP DEHIDIHHH!” in the outside seating section of the bar across the road from my apartment. Certainly, I listen to music from dumb old Sorcerian at 2 am so I should be the last to judge, but I feel as if there are an inadequate quantity of judges before me.
page 13 of that. Howdy. i may be thinking about these remakes too hard. Here is another half a page which did not have a counterpart in the old version, whose primary function is to cover up an error I made before that nobody noticed and/or cared about. I had implied before, through not implying anything, that there was a forking path or some way of getting lost while going up the hill, but all distance views show that the path is straight and impossible to get lost on. So I needed to show that the creature was confused before it got on a path. Initially the DUNK sound effect was FADUNK and the sound of a wall moving, but there was no way to prove that withouth showing it or having a character be aware of it and it seemed excessive. I’m not sure that being able to cover my old mistakes is an even exchange for having lost all sense of line weight or background gag application.
Worst of all, now that lizard thinks it’s the main character!
Why is that fool walking like it means business? I know that it doesn’t!
I fixed the thing that I broke! It had disabled a crucial animated gif.
======================================================
I hate hearing about when radio was king. Radio was “king” for a pretty short period overall in the history of media. It truly was not so very long before motion pictures usurped the imaginary throne. They had sound before the 1930s, but even prior to that they were big business, comparable to, if not more so, than radio.
I think internet pornography has been king for longer than radio was, if the only way we might communicate the concept of fiscal success is through a monarchial analogy, and if this analogy holds up at all, the king is a reprehensible creep who only retains status by having knights hack up civilians. Your dominance doesn’t mean beets when it is entirely dependent on there not being any competition. Radio was in charge right up until somebody else made an attempt at being in charge.
Radio repologists are the same sorts of people who never forget to mention that Popeye was more popular than Mickey Mouse for about a week at some point in the 1930s. By making a big deal of that point you imply that for every other point in their coexistence Mickey Mouse was the better and Mickey Mouse is about the blandest character on the blanet.
The early history of radio, in general, is depressing. This in part is due to the entire history of radio being depressing. I wouldn’t mind if I didn’t hear about it so much. I hate that stupid music that plays in the background, I hate the nearly indistinguishable announcer voices, I hate every program’s name ending with “show” (how did that start, anyway? No one never saw a thing). I hate the Lone Ranger. Maybe his show was well written (just as likely not), but my only experience with it are despicable characters on television referencing it. A lot of my least favorite fictional people have been huge Lone Ranger fans.
And he wasn’t even alone! I don’t need to have seen/heard his deeds to know that he had Tonto along to not get any credit through not being a white guy. Chipwich, since it’s on the radio Tonto could be a robot or a skeleton or a sentient boot but you made him a human so you may as well acknowledge that he exists.
I hate hearing how CBS had to “raid” Jack Benny, like there were only two people in the whole world capable of being entertaining when heard but not seen. Historians would have me believe the only things important to all 1930s Amelicans were Jack Benny, Seabiscuit and racism. But they failed! It’s more interesting for me to consider that back then people could have two first names, as opposed to now when people have names like Madison Carter and MacKensie Potatobucket and Vanburen McFrankenstein.
It’s very possible, that since I haven’t been able to move on yet, if I’m alive fifty years from now, I’ll still feel attached to the early days of video games, but I can tell you I won’t trust anyone to recap it for me, because I know they’re going to say Pac-Man, they’re going to say Mario and they’re going to say Crash bleeding Bandykook in the intro sentence and the whole operation is going to dance around hardly straying from those three points. No Moraff, no Electro Brain, no Triffix, none of the mistakes that I’m obsessed with. Just the mistakes I hate but that other people don’t regard as mistakes. They might mention Final Fantasy, but only the first one, because they know what little tolerance I have for that.
If I live to be seventy years old and still have people willing to speak to me, I’m not going to be recalling Tetris the way old people now recall Marylin Monrovia or James Bean. It was fun for a few hours and exploited into total reprehensility.
I found that in a file titled “objects.txt” dated 5-27-2008 that I probably meant to be a collection of unfinished website items, but then I continued starting new unfinished things and forgot the old ones. I don’t entirely recall what prompted me to complain about that and then not do anything about it for four or more years, but the thing I typed beneath here reminded me of it so now it is above that and your problem.
This is from somebody’s tumblor web-page. A string of folks I know absolutely nothing about are eagerly anticipating an upcoming film by quoting dialog from an ad for it beneath an endlessly looping captioned clip from the ad which probably links to the full ad.
I guess Zangief is considered “bad” either because he is Russian (Soviet, in fact) or because the people who made this movie just threw some money around at some licenses and aren’t inherently more qualified than anyone else who’s ever put a video game character in a feature film.
Except there was also Kingdom Hearts, another baffling disney/video game cross-over, which was an actual video game, that must have at least been mildly playable, even if I wouldn’t, because one of its primary plot components is fondly reminiscing about when Mickey Mouse was king. I have difficulty reserving more faith than I have in a Disney supervised video game for a Disney developed video game movie. I do know that I’m not looking forward to footage of the Dynamite Dux doing the Charleston in front of a white background under a huge font saying “Wreck it Ralph #1 movie in the country!” when that inevitably occurs.
The page I saw this on also had someone complaining about fedoras for being marketed at the wrong people. Certainly I have stated fedora issues, but Tumblr users are the last people who should be complaining about marketing. They are marketing incarnate. They promote, buy and forget products in time to promote buy and forget the next ones, totally for free, like no one but the most cynical radio-era spokesoafs could ever have expected people to be dumb enough to. Suddenly in less than a day I had seen stuff about this movie from five different people, all making the exact same points (“this movie will be good because it acknowledges that video games exist and I cannot contain my enthusiasm over it”), without my having given any effort to look them up. The catch to this marketing method is that the tumblites have to actually like or expect to like the product, but on an internet that I can win the entirety of by being aware of something that anyone else who grants themselves authority to award the whole internet is nostalgic for, it really isn’t that hard.
ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED? good work, I made “comics” about the NES game Wizards and Warriors before I could read, and I reckon pasting whimsical dialog next to video games sprites has been an internet institution for plenty over a decade. Why is this film special? Because it’s not on the internet. Nobody here is pausing to ponder: “this is significant because it has nothing to do with us.” It may even be tolerable as a result of that, if I succeed in forgetting the hype. I am weary of hype.
Golly I’d pay up to three easy installments of $48.95 for that! Of course I could PINCH even more PENNIES by not buying anything at all. Is this product any good? I don’t know because I don’t trust essentially anonymous mobs of strangers, compensated or otherwise.
And this idiot IS compensated. Ripping off the same tirelessly impact-font-labeled pictures as everyone else but putting ads (that SCROLL WITH THE PAGE) on them
and then its own copyright symbol on the ads and saying “derp” the whole while, thoughtlessly mocking my people. Though I mock dopes, dopes are not derps. Dopes are content and there is no struggle to life as a dope and they don’t have feelings to hurt. That is why I deliberately work to hurt them. This is like comparing apples and pineapples. Pineapples are scum.
Disclaimer: I accept no responsibility for anything but will accept your money
Old pictures, old gimmicks, old buck-passing, old buck-keeping. I have been concerned that I’m so out of touch with society that I can’t tolerate new things, but maybe the problem is that the new stuff is fundamentally the same as before.
I recall all manner of gorbo going gorby over Matrix 2, Snakes on a Plant, New Transfarmers, the 2008 Baracko Bama and/or Pon Raul presydential campaigns, the Smashing Brawl Bros and all these things. They live for hype, promotion, consumption and imitation. They were raised on it and they don’t know how to not do it. I’ve failed to be in their clubs for so long because I must not enjoy being in their clubs. I want to interact with talented people, not mere complacently resigned fans of talented people, and certainly not fans of lazy nonsense. But lazy nonsense is more likely to get reblogged and less likely to get discouraged if it doesn’t get reblogged.
I consider intelligence a talent but that statement seems even more pretentious with that word in it.
Considering that it took me about 40 minutes to find the zangief page again after I made the decision to use the little bit of text I typed about it (which has mutated considerably) I really don’t know what to think about the approaching movie he is sort of in. And that’s fine! I’m allowed to not explode with excitement every time somebody wants to sell me something. I should be glad that video games are getting some legitimacy and that the old ones I actually care about aren’t being totally ignored, despite the efforts of the xbox all-army-guy/zombie coalition. Even if it’s in an ugly, 3d, “fictional characters are REAL, BORING people just like you” overhyped contemporary above-everything “yeah, no” obnoxiocomedy which, much like toy story, will undermine its apparent fondness for “classic” toys by saturating the planet with sweatshop labor merchandise based on the exclusive intellectual property of the filmmakers. I like that Zangief is in it and Crash Bandicorf isn’t, and that Bowser’s eyes weren’t made really small and moved close together (meanwhile keeping the head the same size) so to better resemble the facial features of an immersion-breaking-by-design celebrity voice actor who uses a Scottish accent for some reason. The scene in the preview is probably the extent of their parts, but I didn’t watch the preview anyway. I don’t have time to watch it; I’m too busy complaining about it.
Nobody has tried to sell me on the original characters yet, as it happens. Only the incidental background characters. Can a movie work entirely through interest in the secondary characters? Disney definitely sold Aladdin as if it was a movie about the Genie. And this time there’s no gentleman’s agreement to violate with Dr. Robotnik over his presence in the promotional material that will lead to him being voiced by Helletic Hojo in the sequel. That is the most pointless sentence I’ve ever written. At this point I would like to gripe that it’s the newer Robotnik who wears suits made of rubber and zippers and goggles on his head despite already having dark protective lenses over his eyes at all times, but actually he has never dressed in an especially dignified manner and he’s the only character from his franchise that I can still bear to look at.
Bah I’m too angry. I’m even too angry at how angry I am. I like a lot of things! I like… (don’t say dopes, don’t say dopes, don’t say dopes) yes I sure do.
NO! I’ve been misrepresented! Google isolated a single remark from the page featuring the most conspicuous commercial property on the page whose name I didn’t make the effort to misspell, and declared that the title! It’s almost as if google just saw a picture of a preview of this website and made a judgment based on that, except it didn’t because if I was going to pay to advertise this site I’d look at the money and buy a pizza instead. Giggle changed the title because the actual page says “luckycharms.com” on it which I guess is a problem because apparently real people go to the websites of breakfast cereals, and do it by typing urls into google instead of the place they are actually supposed to type urls, and these people are worth accommodating for some reason. I didn’t even write that sentence anyhow! Kid Rock did! And the next line is “I like Andersen windows!” Why isn’t that the title? Andersen Windows are much better actors. Nobody understands me/us!
I’m going home to people who appreciate me!
All this Jerry Sanduski business strikes me as very Ancient Greek. With all the “modern day warrior” sort of nonsense people in sporting associations like to ehssociate themselves with I would be little surprised if this sort of thing were much more widely disseminated and unofficially institutionalized than anyone is acknowledging here. Any field where men have power, money, some sort of manufactured prestige and private access to children there is going to be sexual abuse. Sports, clergy, entertainment, government, they’re all alike. I wouldn’t chance it on women either, though they are less encouraged by tradition to behave disgustingly and then be proud of themselves (though very much so with regard to disgusting people more powerful than themselves).
============================================================
Here come some pictures of my hideous sunburn. Not for sympathy; apart from some lingering redness and itching I am cured. You can tell because I typed this. I have a considerable list of other things I will accept sympathy for if it comes to that, however, starting with
the undrinkable “pure” cranberry juice I bought shortly after the sunburning. I think it is meant for people with urinary problems. I think that because the bottle says so. People have urinary problems because they drink so much bloody juice that they can’t stop going. I may have been confused since having swollen, blistered fingers meant that converting my clothing to urination mode became an irritating ordeal but that is not the problem the juice is meant to solve. For some reason I suspect the fat-nosed fool at the top of this entry won’t have the same issue.
Look, it even has a warning. I of course interpret that as a dare. If sunblock muck had a “WARNING: DON’T USE THIS” perhaps I would have. I should have been wary of purchasing when it cost ten dollars. I must have just thought it was really good juice. Clearly I deserve to be homeless.
I have decided to merely link to the pictures, since I’d really rather not be seeing them here for the next six months while they slowly scroll off the page if I also have to see all those dumb lizards. And with me having said that you may decide that you do not want to see them at all, and now you have the power not to, and thus I don’t even really need to have had a sunburn and can have saved myself the pain and hassle of it. However, I am now taking this opportunity to dare you to look so you really have no other option because I was disgusted at my deceitful behavior. Unfortunately I have not yet implemented a system for concealing undesirable verbal imagery so the urine-themed remarks remain.
http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/8216/eimg3613.jpg
I swear that is my only plaid shirt. I rarely wear plaid because it reminds me of bad concerts and furry conventions. We shall perhaps see in subsequent entries that I take better precaution to protect myself from being reminded of them than actually experiencing them. This shirt at least has some diagonal plaid, but I still worry that it makes me look like I’m at a rodeo. If I was at a rodeo I would wear an appropriate hat as well and clearly I have no head. Further, I am in no condition to fasten my Texas-shaped belt buckle without assistance.
In fact the burning occurred primarily because I attempted to wear a hat. Due to my proximity to people who enjoy burning themselves (normal people) but aren’t genetically predisposed to being burnt excessively through being pigmentally challenged, I decided I should make an effort to walk outside during a period when someone else might. Oddly enough I put anti-burn goop on my feet. My aversion to it caused me to avoid placing the stuff on my hands and I imagined I would keep them concealed within my pockets for the duration of the journey. It seems that they are destined to be gooped up either way.
http://img31.imageshack.us/img31/4083/uhimg3649.jpg
After one day of bandaging and gooping. Note that due to the residue it looks worse than before. That is why I showed it. The white goop has silver as a component and stains things black. Or maybe that’s just a ruse so you won’t know I’m transforming into a dinosaur. And if I am I promise you it isn’t one that is blue and smiles a lot.
http://img12.imageshack.us/img12/2449/bimg3650.jpg
On the other hand, here is how one looks after having been cleaned off. judging by the time-stamps on the pictures this took 28 minutes. That’s sadly not a whole lot longer than I generally require to bathe. Or that’s the impression I try to give so nobody will guess that I am digging an escape tunnel from the bathroom.
http://img18.imageshack.us/img18/5655/bimg3653.jpg
Here they are, together again. The rodeo appears to be over. Why did I only bring shirts that would be a total nuisance to equip and remove if my hands broke?
and just as I returned, I had to prepare to go someplace else, which I have now returned from. thankfully on that occasion the scarring was only internal and thus I was not physically inhibited from typing this.
We can only go up from here.
I went somewhere. Somewhere other than the previous occasion. I also came back.
===========================================================================
I’m tired of “badass” works of media. That’s how hardcore I am.
===========================================================================
During the last time I slept, I experienced a dream in which there were terrorism attacks or major riots or plain old world-ending going on outside and the first thing I did was try to prove to myself that it was a dream, but I failed, and so it was real. However, I never attempt to do that outside of dreams and so it must have been. I have no doubt of my consciousness while in its presence.
===========================================================================
Welcome to Target.
An actual scene from inside my refrigerator. This is precisely what I want to find waiting for me when I go away for a week. In case you’re wondering, I was in hiding…
AH NAW! Sausage found me.
AHHHHHHHHHHHH NAWWWWWWWWWW! Mexican sodee pop! Get me out of here! No actually build a wall and send THEM home.
Why I don’t reckon I’d have any respect for them Mexies if they didn’t send THIS back to US with a stern reprimand if the situation arose.
page… I don’t even remember, 49? of that
Don’t stop me if you can see where this is going. It goes there slow enough that your effort would make little difference.
and there also goes the last internet comic with no scenes that take place in a bar. we had a decent length run, I’d say, if I’d held off a bit longer.
There are two things you can expect in a good webcomic: it will become painfully obvious what the artist’s favorite paraphalia is and the main characters will go to a bar within a few pages. Ah I’m kidding, of course. There are no good webcomics.
I thought it might it might be easier and more potentially amusing to base the setting off an actual place I’ve been to, but the one I wanted to use doesn’t have a layout that works with my staging and the one I used instead is rather dull and doesn’t match the locale I’ve established. I think I might have said that last time.
Also, Edward Sorel called. He wants his sketchy, noncommittal ink lines back. And I actually draw with pencil first. By the way why don’t you get a cellular telephone already? I’m tired of taking messages for you.
I think I could handle being a slow inker or a bad inker but being both is becoming harder to accept. Is the huge pint bottle of ink that i bought and have not yet opened reason enough to keep using real pens? If I had a job doing this I would be fired for what this page looked like before I spent a week putting color over and redrawing it with a mouse. Although if I had a job doing this I would have been fired years ago for needing a two weeks of uninterrupted time to finish one page and usually being surrounded by interruptions. I don’t even know what to revise to [further] fix this, much less have the ability. However, this either goes up as it is now or two weeks from now when I can work on it again to make subtle changes that you probably won’t notice.
Oh OH excuse me, am I talking too much for you? Guess what elpse, nobody is intimidated by you! Even with that impressive scar along your midsection. Yes, and I know you also said “oh OH” on the page. I’m very impressed that you almost finished a game of tic tac toe. By the way I’m actually not impressed!
I was thinking another day well wax my eyebrows is that character creepy (yes (although I was kidding about the eyebrows. If I knew I had the power to command you I would advocate a less abrasive form of eyebrow removal)). But we must do our best to preserve it.
Otherwise diapered, presumably for good reason, fiends may escape. Speaking of weird fruit, since the digression I started writing after looking at the url on this box quickly became too unsettling to be salvageable, here comes an apple.
I could not help being amused by coming across it but I wonder what I’d think if there were a “delusional genderless fag that can’t stop picking at sunburnt skin brand” of pancake mix. Probably a painful sensitivity to physical sensations and all forms of movement.
A better question about apples: why doesn’t this one eat itself out of existence? How can we protect our kids from trouser-eschewing apple beasts that are the same size as them?
There is nothing fancy about forgetting to wear pants!
I hope this picture was supposed to convince me that I erred in speaking that because it didn’t and this lizard’s failures brings me satisfaction.
I prefer not to ponder what if anything adorns this creature’s legs. Hopefully it lacks legs altogether. Unless that allows it to fly. I may not sleep again.
Good news! I did not transform into a turnip.
=====================================================
Margarita salt, made from salt. Nothing else. You might be curious how that makes it inherently margarita-y and not just a box of salt but I remind you that it is shaped like a hat.
I spent more time confined to an automobile today than I expected and productivity was mysteriously minimal, and thus I have only a hastily assembled bad website entry rather than a laborious bad website entry.
I was fortunate to dispatch this crucial transmission at all.
Fortunately the car party was eventually directed to safety by the magical yellow shrek ghost that appeared from amongst the Food Lion generic Lucky Charms. It’s an interesting reversal; the lucky charms come out of the leprechaun, but the shrek ghost is born directly of the cereal. Pardon me, did I say interesting, I meant… well in fact I am interested by that idea.
I had become distressed in recent years that the store brand totally necessary cereal mascots were better than the national brands they were supposed to be worse than. It was kind and benevolent of the vicious, dynastic lion to set things back as they ought to be. There was a cereal called “fruit rings” whose character was so dopey looking that I didn’t want a picture of it and didn’t think I’d have anything to say about it. Yesp.
This will do, however. Look, it’s even blurry. That’s just unprofessional.
I had never been to a Food Lion store before. Not just because my house is 500 or more miles from any but also because lions are just dangerous. This is exhibited in the lion’s unwillingness to carry natural foods or low sodium variants of products. I was fortunate to escape with my life. This product is notable because in most other stores this would be the worst merchandising character I found.
I do not consider movie cinemas stores.
This, I was referring to. This can probably be found in other joints than Food Lion. However, I generally cannot also be found in them. Because in those situations I hide or wear a disguise.
I did say most other stores. As I’ve only been inside an Aldi one time my “most” holds up. I believe it was the great sage Eminem who spoke “be smart, don’t be a retart.” However, he never warned me about becoming a toast-tart, and thus I did. This is not a picture of me, though. I just told you I wear a disguise! You’d never recognize me in my fancy hat. I hire a salt company to smuggle them inside of stores for me in case I forget.
Millville can put shiny photoshop eyes and a mouth on anything. Don’t think they won’t. Please don’t challenge them.
An inifinite possible number of seperate, ever thinner, fully sentient, utterly immobile bread slice face-oids can be yours for less than the price of a box of cereal from most reputable dealers and precisely equal that price from millville.
The psychotic turtle is probably the sanest of the many millville mascots, and therefore the least interesting. In fact I’m so bored I’m turning this website entry off. I suggest you do the same!
I will have something nice next week. Comparatively.
===================================================================
Bimshwel: five years of ehhh, three years of ah? and two years of oh.
Just think, in ten years bimshwel has gone from an irregularly updated personal weblog angry about stuff that doesn’t matter, maybe a little obsessed with old video games, written by an unemployed student with delusions of being a successful cartoonist and read by a few people. It all goes to show that if you work hard on something you love and never give up, you too can alienate the people around you.
I had absolutely nothing planned for this occasion apart from that sentence. I have been overwhelmed with deadlines for arbitrary tasks and only just realized “today,” Friday, gah, here is another one, and my own fleeping fault, this time. I knew this was coming. I had ten years to prepare. But there is nothing.
It has been my experience that when somebody tells me to give them something two weeks from now, at the end of two weeks they may remark “you had two weeks to do this!” More likely I had a few isolated hours across two weeks, during which I was incapable of coherent thought. And so, with all my deadlines recently, not one’s task was completed to my satisfaction. I am both difficult to satisfy and lacking in the skill to produce satisfaction. However, those also were externally assigned tasks that were not of personal importance to me. The things I make that matter to me, the ones I have tended to tell myself “no one else cares about,” that I do without deadlines turn out the best. They also get shoved aside when I do the bidding of others. So ducks to your birth-date, bimshwel. I shall speak of it when I deem prudent and some day when you’re older you’ll know I was right. Now get back in your room and play the piano! I want to hear those scales! Now! Stop crying! I didn’t raise no sissy website!
Lizard? I HAVE NO LIZARD.
I’ll see to it that nobody else has one either, if you keep that up.
Five years ago I appear to have questioned that I could still possibly be doing this five years from then. I wonder if I sincerely believed that I would not. Around that time I had only recently entered into online art-sites and displaying my pictures on them. I did not mention it here because I was ashamed that I had, at last, publicly become involved, even though I had been browsing the things for a few years. So when I did post my own nonsense I did it under names that I thought didn’t sounded like I came up with them because I didn’t want anybody from here to find me there. Now I have links to the things on the side of this page. It seems that no matter how ashamed I become of what I do, I follow it up with something else that makes it seem forgivable by comparison. I suppose I’ll start linking to that without even thinking to comment in another year or so.
I mentioned new websites that quickly got more popular than my old website. I reckon few of them are still updated, if they even exist. So I win. Nothing. Now I have the same gripe about the relative fame of users on the dumb art sites. Someday I will win nothing on them as well, merely by being so socially immobile that I linger long after most people stop caring.
Look there, 900! That’s a lot! Especially for me! I should be overcome with emotion at the approval. This proves that people like what I do. However, there are also 30 different oafs in the same vicinity who have drawn the exact same dog-thing over and over again for years with minimal creative ambition who easily have twice the approval. Three times as much if it’s a dog-thing from a bad video game or hideous cartoon and multiply either by 1.8 if the dog thing is a dragon thing. I have checked and verified these figures. It means nothing.
Not everybody really wants to be creative, anyhow; they just do it for fun. Fine for them, rageful for somebody who sincerely tries.
Half of this 900 lot probably don’t even go to the website anymore… which helps me in my quest for victorious nothingness but also implies that they are better than you (you being me), for their having left first, the scamps. A third of the remnant are ready to drop you at any moment, and eagerly anticipate a reason. Or perhaps they want you to watch their page. Not you specifically, but anybody at all who will increase their always-visible point total. Perhaps it even happened out of pity. Or maybe they like your drawings but find you despicable. Or perhaps just like the last thing you put up, or someone who means more to them than you mentioned you. It seems fashionable, for the moment, to acknowledge you, but by and large you are of negligible importance. It is necessary to build absurdly large support networks because the actual units of support have so very little meaning. Anybody can suddenly hate you at any moment And by beanbags I’ve done it myself. The personal weblogs can no longer be imagined by me to threaten me, but fleeting, fickle nothingness yet thrives. Those who are truly dedicated to the site or their cliquey support networks don’t have any more use for me than I for them. But I like it better than twitter. I have no hope in that nothingness. 300 or so who potentially might care is pretty good, even in a really dumb place. After all, they defeated the Persians and more importantly inspired a really lazy meme that prospered among the same sort of people.
Porridge, I spent three weeks writing some mopey introspective thing like that for a class that is now done. I don’t need to recreate it here. I may pull out some relevant bits and impose them on you later. I had to turn that in precisely when it was due. Bimshwel is never due. Bimshwel is not concerned that I acknowledged such a major anniversary a day late or that I talked about other websites than it the whole time. I broke its spirit years ago. It may have shamed itself into forgetting what the day was. You probably didn’t know either. I could say it is today, and nobody but me would know. I miss every birthday in my real family; quite finkly it would be rude of me to make an exception for this distasteful abomination.
I spend too much time thinking about nonsense. I am three years older than Napoleon and my realm is pitiful. But I maintain my composure because these are trifling issues. I don’t need to be the “best.” I have a narrow appeal, since I have such difficulty or unwillingness to latch on to other people’s gimmicks. I am not a winner. I am not good enough at anything that enough people do to have a contest over to even compete for the victory. I might have a chance of winning a contest whose goal was to be me, but if there were other people who could conceivably be me then there would be no point to it. I am as isolated by choice as necessity. And that is perfectly all right. The sooner I accept that the sooner I can enjoy my existence. The needless jealously and pointless aspiring to meaningless smalltime niche digital fame cease today!
ARRRGH I’LL GET YOU, YOU INTOLERABLE GINGERBREAD MANNEQUIN! YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME JUST BECAUSE YOU DRAW POKEMON AND HOMESTUCKS AND CLEOPATRA 2525! I’LL BEAT YOU I’LL SHOW YOU! I’LL LICK THE WHOLE KABOODLE USING JUST MY NOODLE! MY ORIGINAL DERIVATIVE CHARACTERS ARE (C) ME!!!
I SHALL AVENGE THE MARSHMALLOW PEEPS SLAIN TO MAKE YOUR CLOTHING! Come to me, winged cronies! I have been slighted! Do my bidding and I’ll give you *hugs* with lots of extra asterisks on the sides! Otherwise I’ll know who my REAL friends are! I need to clean out my watch list soon HINT HINT
My hubris shall be my downfall.
Attention nemitz:
You are a scumbag. Not at all dear, thus my not capitalizing the n in your name and using a formal greeting despite your low-class trashy presence. You do not even deserve to be greeted. There should be someone employed at Wal-Mart who has the task of making sure you aren’t. That person might even get health insurance. I despise you. Why don’t you go jump in a dumpster? Because that’s probably too upscale for you. You are the worst person on the planet. You are scarcely a person at all. I can’t think why I used that word. The mental energy it takes for me to comprehend your pathetic presence makes additional thought difficult.
You, nemitz, are less than dirt. You are dust. You are the poverty-bringing byproduct of overfarming during World War 1. You make me sick. You made the wheat farmers sick when you got into their lungs. Are you aware that Black & Decker has a product devoted to busting you?
I’d wish you were dead but that would spare me the emotional contentness of killing you. Not joy, mind you; I reckon I could not achieve it with the memory of your life fresh in my mind. Your latest appearance on my prospective graphic design logo project is particularly worrisome. I am deeply concerned with how fancy you think you look. Maybe you should open your eyes, ya bum. The fact that you’re still standing there in the lower right corner proudly as I berate you shows that you truly do not deserve to exist. Can you not read? Can no one read this to you? Surely your ridiculous ears are good for something. I suppose you’d need friends for that. I am not your friend. I have already violated my personal principles by justifying my ire to you. I don’t even justify my text. You are both sub-justice.
Just the fact that you are there means I cannot fit as much abuse in this letter as I would like to without printing a second page. You aren’t worth the thirty seconds that would take much less the 50 cents it would take to use the double-side color printer in the library.
I can’t stand it. I can’t stand your standing. You go to the trouble to dress fancily but you don’t put pants on. Did you think I wouldn’t notice because you are only comprised of two colors and transparency? Did you think at all? I think you do it on purpose. Likewise, you do not wear shoes, but you wear spats. Spats only exist to protect shoes from dirt (which is better than you). They are not inherently fancy. Reprobates like you just think spats are fancy because those are associated with something that is fancy and you don’t bother to do any research. You are not Scrooge McDuck. You are lose mcdork.
From where did you steal that hat? Why does it have a shamrock on it? You are a sham and I want to throw a rock at you. I doubt you took my needs into consideration. Typical selfish imp. If I followed a rainbow and you were at the end you’d probably try to give me a pot of beets. I do not require beets! I have it on good authority that beets taste like dirt. Thus even they are superior to you. Beets should have a pot of nemitzes. However I forbid the presence of more than one nemitz. I forbid even but one nemitz. Who let this happen? Not me.
“Pandora.” Like I am meant to think it’s forbidden knowledge that I can’t handle that’s going to rock my world literally. In truth it’s the same annoying rubbish I haven’t wanted to handle for half my life.
=======================================
Pandora the Internet Radio is a website that finds and plays music for you based on what it perceives your interests to be.
Two years ago somebody other than myself introduced me to it and I promptly untroduced myself. While it was going on I typed a bunch of text scraps and then didn’t have the time or inclination to sort them out. I still don’t but now I have other things to do that are even less interesting. The fellow insisted Pandora was the most significant scientific achievement since the ninja turtles discovered the secret of the ooze but I clearly lacked security clearance.
Pandora Radio has no idea how quickly it won my trust by pulling up facebook information for me without asking me if I had a page there, much less waiting for me to tell it which was mine, and then somehow using this as an excuse to attack me with some whiny band that it insisted was similar to a band that I primarily “like” the page of because someone I know is in it. They are a GOOD band but I got lucky and am not looking for other “good bands.” You might say that’s the whole point of Pandora but I was holding out hope that I could locate some decent musicians who weren’t necessarily bandy.
You can turn off the facebook connection but you can’t stop it from happening the first time and you can’t have a picture on your page any other way. It has nothing to do with music but I enjoy being able to customize hostile foreign netscapes with familiar, condemnable imps.
You know what I say all the time: “I really want to listen to something with minor key tonality.” In fact everybody knows that. It’s a matter of public record. It has to be, because otherwise, that this thing knows is a tremendous breach of decency and undeniable evidence of absolutely sinister corporate collusion which way too many people that I know personally are apparently, contently, going along with.
The blurb there is consistent with my past experience that the smarter somebody tries to sound talking about music, the dumber the world gets. You can speak of being experts and know the difference between keys and time signatures but you can’t do anything to make your opinion of music any more valid than anyone else’s. My thoughts on Suprematist art didn’t change when I learned what its name was or what it was trying to accomplish (although recreating it in 3d was a good idea) and I like Gustav Klimt when he paints things that aren’t filled with shapes that resemble eyes, but I couldn’t tell somebody they were wrong to like eye shapes based on their not knowing what gesso was unless I was an irredeemable scumbag. Then, perhaps, I would have use for someone to sweetly redeem me. However, if I typed “High Flight Society” into Pandora it would just play a song by These Green Eyes that had nothing in common with it and I would go unredeemed, or possibly redempt in a manner that pertained to a different category of taste reception and THEN by gorby where would I be?
So after shunning facebook I was advised to say what I personally thought I liked, if I’m so smart.
I grant that these are hokey choices. Obviously Prophet Fukami wouldn’t be in there so I didn’t try that. Konami and Falcom put out most of the arranged/performed video game music albums that I am aware of so they seemed like the ones to start with. My taste in music is not logical and I am entitled to privately prefer hokey selections.
Yet when prompted to supply an artist that I already liked, I was turned down several times before Pandory gave up Yoko Shimomura, who gets to be in there for being one of precious few composers I like to have worked recently. Apparently she scored Kingdom Hearts, the video game, which I assume has nice enough music but unfortunately its unfortunate fan base puts the music in the “children’s” category which by the music robot’s reckoning makes it similar to The Wiggles as well as non-wiggles trying to sound wiggly, never at all mind that Yoko Shimomura is Japanese, working in video games and without using any words. Surely the game HAS an annoying word song in it somewhere to give it mass wimply appeal, but the first thing that came up was nice enough.
Afterward a half-Raffi said the same stuff about the jungle over and over again, and then Einstein played knick knack on people’s thumbs in a gesture I’m sure he was just as proud of afterward as atomic bombs. I praise children’s music the genre for daring to have songs that aren’t about the pursuit of sex (though doubtlessly if you put “he played knick-knack” in absolutely any other context somebody would think it was a hilarious masturbaty euphemism and giggle accordingly) but gosh they’re repetitive. Next there we went “loopty loo” and it was actually less musically complex than the Barney version. And then I regretted thinking that because an actual Barney song came on.
When an audio sequence comes through pandora you can indicate if you approve of it or if you don’t, or nothing at all, but like hulu’s ad disliking system, it likes to eventually return to the first thing you disliked, so confident in its own infallibility as to assume nobody would ever dislike everything it came up with unless the person was just testing the system to see what would happen and therefore not worth working to accommodate.
except for that one time I broke hulu by hating all its ads and it tried shill at me for 23 Spanish shows all at once. In frap every ad is not relevant to me because I am off the market for new television. I have two shows that I am compulsively bound to and when one of us gives up I hope it will all be over. Thankfully I don’t need to have the same policy for music because one song rarely lasts twenty-one minutes and I can listen to it without halting every aspect of my already not-very-exciting life.
And so with that in mind Pandorcus saw fit to give me a second barney song
Pandora suspected I might dispute the reasoning behind this decision and then would not allow me to leave until I thoroughly understood its lecture. it can tell me WHY it chose a song, — in fact, it likes nothing better– but I cannot tell it WHY it’s wrong or that the criteria it’s using is wrong.
What the peep is a “kid friendly vibe?” Music is not inherently malicious unless it’s created deliberately to be annoying, loud or dissonant. There are people who like listening to staticy voices and modulating frequency noises instead of conventional music, and that might not even be “unfriendly” if enough people like it that it feels better about itself. As for vibe, that means “vibration,” and a thing which creates vibrations is a vibrator, which is usually not sold to children at all. I confess I am curious how and/or why Pando has gotten around this but I’m not sure I could handle the information. I barely recovered from the knick-knack-knickerbock interlude.
The only thing that children like better than Home Depot is Sacha Baron Cohen. Naked hairy man fights also translate surprisingly well into audio form, provided you double the pitch first.
I was in a laundromat when I finally came back to this, april 20, 2012, and a flubbing home depot ad came over the radio, immediately after another ad warning me that Tyler Perry’s Madea was coming LIVE to some local venue whose name I have lamentably forgotten.
They also love free business cards.
So now every crummy top-10 fm pepsi-selling hit is also inherently identical to all video game music if it’s been on a kidz bop album.
The kidz boppiting rapper actually said “yee auhhhh” at the start of whatever that was. I imagine the professional rappists who yee auhhh are merely preparing their voices before they’re actually supposed to say stuff and whoever is supposed to edit that out never bothers to. However, this kid is saying “yee auhhhh” because he thinks it sounded good in the original and ought to be imitated. It didn’t and shouldn’t!
Through consistently disapproving of everything I eventually caused Pandy to only play minimalist xylophonic music, with no bass, harmony or percussion, and I need more than that. The second one that came up was a wordless cover of an aerosmith song. See, that’s the wrong kind of thinking. People who feel overwhelmed by voices in their lives shouldn’t have to piggy on the backs of atrocious acts like that to gain acceptance. I am not strictly avoiding words, anyhow. I am avoiding music I don’t like. As glad as I am to not hear Steven Tyler, that’s not because his presence makes the work too complex for me to comprehend.
Admidst all this Pandora kept going on and on about the music genome project like it was diplomatic immunity. It means to say
According to the website,
No actually I don’t want to know. I’m glad they don’t tell me!
NO NO NO YOU DON’T GET TO DO THAT! I DENIED YOU YOUR PROMPT! GET GONE!
This is an even lazier running gag than
no elpse today.
More stupid stereotypes that appeal to corny people. How much great stuff ever came out of a garage, and how much does these days? The only people I knew who had garage bands were the children of rich people in a couple of tv shows I probably hated twenty years ago.
I don’t even know anybody who has a garage now. I also dispute the use of “new” here. There is heaps of good, old music unaccounted for. It is said by other people who think they’re clever but are actually misquoting that those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. However, those who are blissfully unaware of the past are doomed instead to repeat the present in perpetuity and while less dangerous I want this sentence to end.
We require your gender information to help our targeted advertising be just as wrong about you as our music selections
Also, people pay to use this.
I really shouldn’t have, but I considered that maybe perhaps the website would have improved its method in two years, so I had it running while I rewrote and formatted that up there. I shouldn’t have because that guaranteed I would have more griping to do before I could leave.
Nobuo Uematsu, another video game person, did have a listing, but he’s well known (I swear) and I don’t necessarily want stuff similar to the heavy orchestral arrangements he’s apparently well known for (or that comprise the one official released album he made that is in Pandora’s box), much less what this kooky kontraption mechanically muses and daftly decrees is similar. We need to differentiate between opposing cornies. This got me more serviceable results than Yoko Shimomura but none of the synthesizery stuff that comprises a majority of what made me like Uematsy and learn his name to begin with.
I said it was a functional composition, not that I ever wanted to hear it again. Most of what came through this was really dreary. No songs about the noises cows make but I may just be difficult to please. I don’t want items that I already have but I don’t want stuff that annoys me either.
I tried entering the name of Falco, an admitted vocalist, and was presented with some unremarkable 80s-sounding tunes, like Enjoy the Silence, better known as the song about the king wandering through the wilderness. When I just hear the song I don’t have any proof that a king is singing it because he neglects to say that he’s a king (never even mind whether he can sing) or make any royal decrees and it becomes a lot less interesting, aside from the outlandish hypocrisy of this chap ordering me to enjoy the silence after he’s been moaning about words doing harm in his little world for three minutes. By the time he shuts up another song is ready to start. Dumb king. If I am going to settle for unremarkability I need to have more control over it than this. I remember the first time I heard the song on an actual radio system, rather than with the music video, and being less interested without the king. Now that I have re-examined the video even that is rather dull. He should have a more substantial beard.
Ah, given that these images are two years old, just today I went back and typed the name again. Last time they said they’d check it out. They never did! Or they did but they had returned it already before I came back.
“Genre stations.” I hate genres. When somebody asks me “what kind” of music I listen to, I hope that they do not specify “willingly” because I have no answer. I don’t like music by its kind. I like it because it has interesting tunes and minimally oppressive voices, if any. When I tell people I like video game music they immediately change the subject if they don’t give up right there. I suspect they interpret it to mean I have unsophisticated tastes and that I merely haven’t been “exposed” to good or “real” music that by some chance happens to be exactly what they listen to, which by another chance happens to be exactly what I’m deliberately avoiding because I know I hate it. I realize that now. During my pandora trial I still maintained hope that there was a possibility of me being able to enjoy anything but silence when in the company of others (including kings who advocate the opposite). And in truth that even is not so very bad. I wish I could go shopping without Jason Mraz fedora-ing up my earlobes or share a car with someone who was actually open to having a conversation. We just need obnoxious voicy noise that we can’t respond to coming at us at all times because otherwise we risk having a thought. I see people sitling motionless in waiting rooms, on benches, on buses, going for leisurely walks, or simply standing around, inside or out[side], always with their goldfarbed earphones in and activated loud enough that I can discern the noise’s nature. We are terrified of the absence of noise. I should feel fortunate that I desire so little of it.
In closing, I cannot be pleased and it is futile to try.
No actually I like some musical theatre and I already feel boring.
Historically this has been the best ending I have been capable of writing.
===========================================================
This was made for somebody called bowrll for some reason at some point.
Also it loops forever. Don’t expect anything to happen.
===========================================================
An amazing discovery detailed In May’s Journal of Biological Chemistry: Scientists have isolated the gene that causes loneliness.
===========================================================
Have you seen this? Have you SEEN this??!?
NO. NONE OF THAT IS FOR YOU.
Urt. That’s the first straw. nemitz is officially banned from space. nemitz doesn’t even get two straws. my policy toward nemitz is one strike and you’re dead, which I think is more than generous.
Look even Adobe Illustrator wants nemitz gone. What’s more, it strongly advises that nemitz not show itself again. Ordinarily I find the program very disagreeable. What changed? Not nemitz. This behavior is consistent.
A semi-recent comical tragedy item reminded me that it’s been too long since I publicly took nemitz to task on the topic of its existence. So try and comprehend my rage at not being able to do it for four months.
First of all I’m tired of nemitz pretending that it’s sensitive and conscientious. You’re not fooling anybody, dumb mitz. You’ll have to do more than make your ears go down to make my scumbag defense go down. it is not concerned about anybody but mitself. If we allow nemitz to get elected you can be certain of dopes in our schools within the term.
In 2012 am i truly expected to just stand by and allow nemitz to spell “heap” with two Es and take Grizzo’s name in vain?
Is anybody else hearing the GARBAGE that this thing is saying? I can’t be the only one. What is it pointing at? Nothing good. The only consolation we have is that whatever it is cannot possibly be nemitz.
How DARE it go before a national audience and proclaim “mcgoop”???! This I demand an answer, an apology and reparations for. Our brave men and women didn’t pearl chop zero at ground eleven so that nemitz could flaunt its lies in public. That’s the most slanderous statement I’ve heard since goop ohoopij. Which, incinemily, was also said by nemitz.
It would dare direct words into both a pine and ice cream cone at the SAME TIME. The center object appears to be a vegetable. That speech is NOT being broadcast! I had to change that picture after I scanned it because it was so dumb! However, in doing so I had to include actual microphones which means the message might get out. I condemn nemitz for being so insufferable that I had to undo its own sabotage against itself.
fact: nemitz is a career scumbag who complains about “gotcha” morality.
“Grebo screbo??!” nemitz you think just because that rhymes it makes some sort of point or even communicates information? Do you think that? I say answer me! And do it without talking to me.
And now: nemitz is so proud of itself that a jacket materialized in this position simply so that nemit could proudly clutch at the jacket’s lapel-things in a proud way. I demand proof of an act perpetrated by nemitz that was worth being proud over so that I can present counterproof to show this pride was also invalid.
As matters currently stand, nemitz has not claimed to have invented Red Star yeast.
Once you wear armor your fingers become obsolete. If you cannot solve a problem by punching it is beneath you. But that is beside the point. In fact it is beside every point. The points request the company of armor. All the more essential it be that we verify nemitz isn’t wearing it. Clearly, this robot is very proud of its urmor. Thankfully, however, we can rule out it being nemitz due to the less controversial leg type and its not insisting on smiling at us. Also, nemitz is allergic to boots.
Good old armor.
=======================================
I recognize the person who confronts me through mirrors but it is not someone I recall having been recently.
=======================================
One of my teachers today asked me what my major category of study was. Without having to ponder the topic I responded “discomfort.” The teacher seemed to accept the answer.
I intend to release a statement regarding armor on Friday.
————————————————————-
I inadvertently entered a public restroom of type apart from what I had been traditionally instructed to enter. As the room was lacking for other patrons my first visual cue was the character of the graffiti.
————————————————————-
I am surprised to realize that I cannot recall the theme song for Darkwing Duck, but I am not rushing to remedy this.
————————————————————-
I can say already I probably won’t have something prepared for April 8!
=============================================================
Two hours later it seems kind of derivative