Seriously, I thought Estelle Getty was like a-hundred and twenty.
I will think of her every time I don’t purchase beef jerky.
Addendum: content controlled food-product packaging is less of a threat to humanity than Rubbaducks, especially ones which ally themselves with antisocial prefabricated mug covers. Yerbofe has spoken.
Apparently this nation is in the midst of a cookie shortage.
Have you seen these things? They put a couple little, air-filled cookies in a bag, put a few bags of that in a box you could fit a pair of shoes in and charge you as if the box was full. There’s probably more weight in shiny plastic in there than anything edible.
This example I really wouldn’t mind so much if it was priced for what it contains and there wasn’t such a plastic-to-cookie ratio. But without that there’d be no money incentive for businesses to claim they had the solution to your cookie issue and pretend to offer it to you. And there’s always plastic. There’s more plastic than ever and people still weigh more weight than ever. Maybe they should try eating plastic.
Again with the 100 Calories (which due to thoughtless terminology creation is equal to 100,000 lowercase calories)! Calories aren’t fat, you know. They are units of energy. While certainly excess energy can be harmful, in itself that is not the problem, and its presence need not indicate lack of nutritive value. Your problem might be soda and cookies. Or maybe I just wanted to show that I know what Calories are because it makes me seem like I know lots of things even though I only know a few things about Calories.
Yes, so, many major soda brands now market half sized cans. There may be occasional situations under which this is called for, but in general what you’re going to end up with is somebody just taking two cans, and then who will adorn our Froot Loops boxes? Alright, marmite, let’s say you’re trying to “cut back” and you don’t want to feel obligated to finish your whole drink (and if that’s the case I invite you into my home to see that many people don’t feel obligated to do that at all, hint hint accidentally knocked over 2/5 full caffiene free diet pepsi why is that here I don’t even drink that broken keyboard wailing tears), why are there half sized water bottles?1
Water has zero calories. No one ever foiled their health as a result of consuming 16 ounces of water every day. The only way to get dead prematurely drinking water is to be specifically allergic to it or to imbibe such a very large amount that you win admission to a fraternity, and I have to think any other liquid would do it just as well.
But some people are always going to be helpless.
1Ehhh, assuming there is reason to buy brand name pre-bottled water in any size in a section of a nation in which sanitary water is available on-tap, which that picture was taken in. How long before oxygen is being sold back to us?
How long before “we” think it’s a good idea, I mean. And that charging 20 dollars for little bottles of an essential basic component of life isn’t scummy, even in the unlikely case there’s reason to assume both that it’s possible to trap pure oxygen in a little can and that they’re doing it. They don’t list the price for the magic ogo water, which suggests to me it’s either laughably ludicrous, even in context, or of indeterminate legality.
Oh, is that why!
Have you considered increasing the oxygen content of its imbibing fluid?
Yoderhunt.
How deep does WHAT go? And why is that man frowning? Do I have to stay overnight? I swear I don’t know how that got there!
Why is this the first result? It’s scandalous! People looking for information on cowabunga may not have time to seek out a second link!
You know what impresses no one? Saying “bling” at all, much less as a verb form of a fake noun derived from a fake verb. Yes, bling actually refers to bright light reflecting off of complicated jewelry. To bling one’s car one need merely drive past me when I’m in a restaurant and facing a window. All the time! I’m sick of it!
It sure is! And it sure was! Remember when everybody watched Heist? I almost did but luckily I saw this page that said it was the next big thing, so I decided to wait until it was the current big thing. I like big things when they are big.
You failed to remove all the multi-colored squares before your opponent. Crystal Tokyo is doomed.
Actually, I can’t even do that right.
I would like to tell you my participation in silly request drives was a single isolated occasion, but at this time the best I can say is that it was two isolated occasions. In the case reported upon today, I was not prompted, by Jumbi, for a subject matter demand, and so gave none, and expected, if anything, another nemitz. You just think you’re so popular, don’t you nemitz. Well ha fa, it isn’t you. Scoundrel.
Lepidoptera members are notorious for ignoring akimbo warnings
I wonder why I haven’t been drawing the ears like that. I’d rather have ALPSHE seem related to NEMITZ than THE dOPE, which currently has more similar ears. It shouldn’t, but it does.
On a past occasion today’s culprit also made the first item described here and on yet another occasion several related characters (and others which aren’t, so much) on, eh, notebook paper, but I do declare the recent upgrade went splendidly. I used to draw proto-bimshwellians on my own notebook paper, but they tended to be tiny enough that the notes did not feel threatened. Anything bigger doesn’t fit in the margin-areas and looks like it’s in [sideways] jail. And verily, many of my charges deserve to be in jail… otay, it may have uses. Perhaps you’re wondering why you should flimb that anyone drew any of them. And in that event you shouldn’t! I realize there’s little interest factor here to anyone but me. Elpse is not insta-fave material. Drawing these will not get you popular. I ma(d)e pictures for children at some school somewhere through an odd setup you also shouldn’t concern yourself with, but I can tell you that something which looks like pikachu gets a lot more attention and acknowledgment than, say, a delphin with laser eyes. Inserting dumb nemitz seemed but the slightest bit feasible and I did not try.
Posting other persons’ drawings of one’s own character-things is inspired by something within one’s-self similar, I believe, to that which prompts one to announce newly borne relatives or newly purchased automobiles. Surely you could not give a boken whether someone else depicted a dope nor if one of my cousins suddenly had childrens (and I seem to recall that one did at some point). Yet people on the internet announce these things as if they are interesting. Typically, they are not. Yes, at last, someone has blown the proverbial jiffypop dome off of online diarists’ aptitude for delivering needless information. It may simply seem inconceivable that anyone else would not be megenthralled, but surely they aren’t. Curious things, these human beings. Thankfully I neither know anyone who’s pregnant nor plan to become so myself within the foreseeable future.
Meanwhile, back at the original topic, I was fascinated to observe Jumbi claim to not hate elpse and that this was despite the irrational behavior the creature is shown to exhibit. First of all, I’m just glad anyone likes Elpse at all.1 I don’t remember, but I suspect what is perceived as elp’s general temperament is, or was unintended. There’s a certain way you come across if your response to someone’s words involves repeating them back, and that’s the only way it can happen if I want anyone else to know what stupid NEMITZ is saying. For example, why is c3po irritable? Not for being a poorly designed robot constantly tossed into situations requiring reflexes and agility it was designed without, not for never getting respect from non-robots. Just because of r2d2’s attitude. Imagine if r2d2 had to be carried around and could smile after doing something stupid. Elp’s biggest character flaw is liking NEMITZ.
1 I don’t know if was a result of society’s decreasing tolerance toward things that look like Ninja Turtles in the late 90s, but I drew the “elpse” imp occasionally for several years before making these dumb comics, and it always struck me as the least likely to be liked of the repeat-fiends.
Hopefully the vaguely familiar snake will not be returning.
So it’s come to this: on Wednesday, July 16, 2008, at approximately 10:52 pm, eastern regular time, I downloaded six ninja turtle games in less minutes than that. It would have been more but I had a few already. I don’t sincerely expect to get great use out of them but the fact that I acquired them is, in itself, alarming, and would be so even in the event it was totally legal. If I had stayed at Catholic school this is the sort of thing I’d have to tell the priest through the magical absolving upright sin drainage grate. I thought I hated ninja turtles. Because remember there was that oh wow, see, I don’t even want to talk about them. I must hate them.
Eh, beets.
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There is a nother artist meeting, on Thursday, at the same place as last time, and once again from 5 to 7 pm. I only have one picture there, though (everybody only has one), and if you’ve read this website with your eyes for any length of time you’ve surely seen it before. Additionally, if you actually are a resident of the new haven area you’d be better off coming to my own house to see… my junk, at least, because all my pictures from the previous showing are currently imprisoned within an oblong box on my porch.
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Page 22, it seems, of this. You may be surprised to learn that I do not own a ruler.
Now that I’ve thoroughly evaluated the situation I have realized I am better at writing about Nakio than most other topics.
It never ends.
Aw naw!
On the subject of Super Mario Brothers and invalids, in that thing which I wrote yesterday and not two years ago, I thought I would treat you to my favorite retarded rom-hack of that game, Super Wheelchair Mario. Not even brothers, just [Super] Wheelchair Mario. That Luigi is also available is an added bonus. Unlike the version I’ve had for years, which would only run in Nestical, because that’s the best, classiest emulator of all the times, I copied the changed graphics into a closer-to-functioning rom and passed the amazing on to you. It seems appropriate that a game about a guy in a wheelchair needs special assistance to be more accessible. I would commit a disservice to show numerous pictures of it with my special witty commentary when the game itself can be downloaded, played, and forgotten about in fifty-seven seconds.
Like so. Of course it’s zipped; Do you think I am made of kilobytes?!
Another of my favorites, though I don’t find it nearly as profound, is “Lesbian Tennis,” in which the women tennis players have their clothing drawn off, with large black pixel rectangles about their nipply and crotchal regions. See, you know they’re lesbians because they’re naked! It reminds me of a story Weekly World News printed maybe about 1997 (I actually have a stack of the things, never having thrown one out, but I fear to look through them (and not just because they themselves are beneath a stack of turn-of-the-century MAD magazines)) about a gay cow-boy. How can you tell he’s gay? Because he rides a horse while just wearing underwear, and, to a lesser extent, from his mustache.
Regarding the famous Super Nakio, he HAS to be naked. It’s part of his name. Naked is all he knows. He is impervious to clothing. Quite finkly, it would disgrace his family heritage were he to not be naked.
As an unfortunate post-script to this thing I wrote today and not one year and 364 days ago and did not forget about, I decided that you really needed a picture of Super Nakio in action, and I could not find it among the huge archive of asinine mario hacks I downloaded [fairly recently]. I then looked-over a presumably more recently updated rom site, and giggle-searched for the phrase “super nakio” or just “nakio” itself, perhaps hoping to find it mentioned in someone’s online resume. Ehhh, no dicks dice.* The only result I could find for it was this page in which somebody complains about someone searching for super nakio. I am always glad to help. But it is my sad conclusion that Super Nakio does not, in fact, exist. Not that there is a shortage of hacks in which Mario is naked, just none called “Nakio.” Alas.
First brought to my attention eight years ago on this page, it seemed to me perfectly reasonable to assume Nakio was real, and all this time I never for a moment considered the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he was not to be. There may be Super Naked Badminton, Naked Little Mermaid and Super Nazi Penis Cartel Freedom Fighters 3 (and there are), but no nakio. It is but a legend, a story of hope passed down from a harsher yet somehow more optimistic time. Nakio lives in our hearts, at least. Now I am upset and desire ice cream. *I also am ashamed and desire eggrolls.
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It was never my intention to have a Nakio eulogy at the top of my page for longer than a few hours, much less two days. But sometimes that’s just the way things are.
An all amelican Tintin movie has been threatened. I suppose this is in response to my occasionally stated indifference to the massive collection of garbage forgettable feature films made about potentially slightly less forgettable tv shows from previous decades. The opportunity to make a big public show of messing up something I like rarely presents itself. Something specific, I mean. Not like music or cultural identity.
If the movie is popular, it might lead to American popularity for the comics. And that might lead to others of its sort being translated to English and adequately distributed outside India. Although supposedly the Tintin was popular in Britain, so I guess the popularity would have to exceed that, and given Amelican’s distrust of anything over a year old plus the French, that happening strikes me as unlikely. Of course Tintin is Belgian, but Americans also distrust distinctions made regarding nations they don’t trust.
I read that Tintin (2009 film) will be neither actor-acted nor cartoon-animated. It will be some strange motion-capture hybrid of the two.
Weh, I just hope it doesn’t end up looking like SKYLAND, and that if it does there won’t be any dance scenes.
(I don’t really know what Skyland is beyond that this is a scene from it and that it was unsettling when I witnessed it.) Even still it won’t be as creepy as Cars. Fichus, I wish I’d put this up when I wrote it because I don’t want to start thinking about those cars again. I’ll be nice about the [newer] robot movie and [presumably first of many] rat mov[ies] but those cars are nasty.
I also hope Tintin isn’t “updated” to fit current technology and fashion and linguistic trends. Though author Hergé was good about always having Tintin in a current make of automobile, airplane or water-traversing vessel, I don’t trust anyone else, much less politically and commercially-conscious Americans to take on the task of deciding how far that ought to go. That’s the sort of thing that’s almost never done well. I don’t want Tintin to have an iPhone or to make jokes about myspace, that’s what I’m saying. That didn’t ruin the Iron Man movie, but definitely a couple seconds. And it’s rather hard enough to take Optimus Prime seriously when he’s not talking about E-Bay. But by virtue of being magical gimmicky robot-men, they’re more inherently updatable anyway. Tintin stories rely a lot on travel taking a long time and people not being able to look things up on the internet and finding suspicious crab tins when they get out to crank their Model-Ts or whatever.
Co-director Peter Jackson is from New Zealand, yes, but one of his standard contract stipulations is the creation of a role involving Andy Serkis clambering around semi-erect and grunting which doesn’t fit in here at all unless we’ve really modernized Tintin and Captain Haddock’s relationship.
Not that I delude myself with the notion that homogayality is anything new, but I like to think those two would go about it in a more dignified manner. Tintin, after all, got his start in Le Petit Vingtième, a Catholic-themed newspaper supplement for children, so it follows that Tintin would be very repressed in certain matters. What is modern is just the common occurrence of blatant gays characterized primarily by the fact that they are gay. Or the public perception that any amiable male characters of fiction who coexist without apparent female love-interest not only must be gay, over each other, but must have this pointed out regularly. Aside from any of that, I think if anyone, the Captain is in love with Professor Calculus.
The Calculus Affair indeed!
*I’m told there was a later installment on the playstation with the exact same perogatives except in 3-D, as if the sprite animation wasn’t the only thing they got sort of right.
On the subject of Peter Jackson, perhaps I may expect good things. His movie King Kong reminded me of a Tintin book, specifically Flight 714, because of the considerable amount of time spent on the ship and then the disappointingly quick wrap-up, sudden skimming-over of details and forgetting of certain characters because whoopth! Almost outta time! As for what the enormous gorilla was expecting to do with the lady he was carrying around, if he’d revealed himself as a space alien (who needed an ultra high point to launch himself into space from), the plausibility could only have improved. As it was, it made about as much sense as
Here’s some more stuff that doesn’t make sense, helpfully highlighted to assist you in avoiding it.
Also, apparently that’s a flower bed.
This is why I could never be successful. I’d worry too much about consistency and feasibility to try anything grand and in the end someone would complain that I depicted a non-existent variety of sock anyway. How would I ever recover from that?
In summary, I have serious Tintin issues which I have no one to discuss with. Obviously.
Oh, to share something special with someone!
Because I suspect this topic requires further investurgation.
Additional reading: Tintin contre Batman, cbz format, completely unofficial, 99% not English.
While I was away from the computer… -actually, I was right next to it but it was off, and then I went outside and lay against a car hood in the rain because I’m a broken human- I remembered that the script writer is allegedly Uklandish. But they’re not all perfect, either. They invented Teletubbies, Battletoads, Mad Cow Disease and Chip Butty, after all. That’s right, they invented mad cow disease. Every Blitish person came together to put on white lab-jackets and bifocals and poured colored liquids between funny-shaped glass bottles until something exploded and then they invented mad cow disease because they were fed up with all the bovine indifference to their brilliant masterful taunts.
Another page of this, eventually, (or immediately) a bit dull, a bit redundant. I wanted to squeeze some more panels in there, but I know better than that by now. It’s good that I know better than something by now.
You might have thought that while I was away I would have taken some opportunities to finish long not-finished web-site-things without any imaginary immediate deadlines or maybe even get something important done.
Well that’s what I thought. Perhaps you know me better than I do.
Which is not to say I had a particularly rollicking time not getting anything done, either. I have forgotten how to rollick.
When I hear swimsuit legally-more-respectable-than-straight-up-pornography models interviewed needlessly on television or any other applicable medium in which their voices are recorded, they occasionally comment upon how, ha ha, no, that picture there, the swim-flesh-obscurement triangles no one would ever swim while sort-of wearing were not fabric but in fact painted directly to the skin!
And so I wonder why, if we’re painting the things into existence, should we do it in the same stupid configuration as before? Instead of little impractical triangles fastened by string, how about large round supper dishes? If we must remain nautically themed, I do suggest an old-timey sea diving out-fit (unless Scooby Doo is scheduled to appear, in which case that might not be the best choice). Why not paint the lady a big hat with fruit on it? Why not have swirly patterns branching off from the woman’s spine? Why not give her scales? Why not paint the entire human into the picture and not even hire one? Why not paint a volcano or a crystal jungle or a pianoforte made entirely of porcupines instead?
Good point! Me not need know! Me just like boobs ‘n beer!
It is worth noting that though this ad is blamed on 1990, I remember the slogan quite well despite being seven years old for most of that year and in no condition to be consuming the product. Also, surprisingly, this particular ad itself is blatantly non-misogynistic and I’m sure the Budweiser legacy department appreciates me finally placing it into such a context.
Not because it’s ignorant or annoying, I hope. What then permits being memorable in advertising? An annoying catch-phrase? An annoying jingle-tune? An annoying licensed+edited song by someone famous? Annoying pandery imagery? An annoying smart-arp mascot? I think we need new words so that we can more easily differentiate between ought to be remembered, able to be remembered and that for which nothing less than a lobotomy will ever get you restful sleep again.
Sure, I’d love for your giant pill to puke powder onto my pelvis. What took you so long?
Also, there are two “funny” yupetube videos of dorks recording themselves watching this ad, and neither comments on the fact that an enormous Dr. Mario capsule is fantasizing about vomiting cocaine onto their glowing crotchal regions. I mean first of all, that’s a terrible waste of money right there. You spent all those greater american dollars getting the stuff just to smear it on your mystery spot? Even if it’s ground up tiger horn China’s foremost black-market charlatan sorcerers agree you don’t use it that way. You could smear anything there and get pretty much the same effect. Marketers need to learn to properly represent their product.
If Lipozene can help me become a creepily drawn robot fighting robot machine, it should be evident from the simulation.
But I was in the midst of another digression. I thought upon a limerick and I thought upon a riddle, I started on a story but I stopped it in the middle.
Over the centuries, rhino horns have been carved into ceremonial cups, as well as buttons, belt buckles, hair pins, and paperweights.
I understand that The West owes much of its extravagant ways to the production and use of Chinese imports, but I had sort of hoped specialty belt-buckles for scum-buzzles was a uniquely American tradition. Can’t I have civic pride in anything? Also, oh, gee, the wind keeps scattering my paper around. I can’t decide whether I should close the window or kill a giant animal so I can chop off part of its nose.
But what do I know? Ask a reputed expert on the matter. What else aren’t you telling me, Josh?
More colored pictures than previously. Possibly you’ve seen these all before, and I still intend to discuss with myself certain items in more detail at a later date. So excyoooooooose me!
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I think I hurt many people. I do not want to hurt people anymore. Perhaps I can hurt fictional non-people instead.
Begawn! No, seriously, get out of here. I’ll show you what this makes me think of.
And it draws a sneer from me!
When I see you coming, I can either hit you or run away. Which would you prefer? My only items are bludgeoning instruments. It seems too late to offend you into not showing up by spelling your name incorrectly. You’d probably forgive me anyway.
It is not good to see me! Not for you! I insult you always!
How do you know? How are you telling me? Why are you telling me? Do you think I can help you? I had nothing to do with this! Do you think I would help you?
That was a quick recovery. I bet you don’t even remember that you used to be a potato. So happy, so fast. And how could you NOT see that branch? Blinded by muffingluttony.
And what’s that trying to enter my sight on the right?
ARRRRRRRGHNot allowed! Someone follow that thing! When it lands, confiscate its wings and bow tie. I’m not dealing with this today.
But ugh, that lizard. Maybe if it grew some teeth it could eat something besides muffins.
Don’t tell me that! I don’t need your advice! I bet that awful Life Water ad was your idea. I’ve noticed you also have a tendency to appear in front of empty white void anti-backgrounds. That stupid gargoyle thing next to you probably has better ideas, and all they do is squat on buildings all day. You’re looking especially badly drawn right just now. Oh wow, you’re so enthusiastic about your cupcake statement. I just noticed it ends in an exclamation point. It’s really not that important!
I’ve been naming your shortcomings all day, and you just noticed that? Even unreferenced frogs look down on you, and you’re taller! Stupid naked beast. Don’t just stand around and pout about it! Wear clothing if not doing so bothers you so much. And it’d better be real clothing, and not just boots or a scarf or a stupid bow tie.
That’s it. I’m going. No one deserves this.
I’m tired of all the people with their light-blue houses and hired machinery! How is there any plant left around here that still needs to be chain-sawed? What would be audacious or stupid enough to grow here?
And evidently that’s not enough, because here comes an intentionally ugly, blatantly wasteful 1950s car in fact accurately described as a “jalopy” that’s even louder! A backup plan, I suppose.
I’m tired, tired tired. Not just of this section of this town, but I mean this section of the continent in general. Every house is white or blue, and every mailbox has a boat or a beach or a beach with boats painted on it if it has anything painted on it. Every wall-hung painting is of a ship or a boat. You’re right down the road from the ocean, and I see you walking back from there every day! You have real boats! If you have the freedom to decorate as you please, why not depict things which you don’t see every day of your life? Like armadillos or the Taj Mahal or Mexicans not employed by you? Have you no imagination? It’s just like how nobody likes theoretically artistic recreations of large boots, barbed wire and dead cow skulls more than in Texas. People are obsessed with the shape of Texas. Don’t you see that every time you watch a weather forecast or visit a public building? Or is that just something city folk do?
I’m fed up and starved down of N’ England, so I will be spending the next week far away from Connecticut, far to the east. Yes, the far east (but not the down east). All the far way east to the Cape Cod. To a place which embodies everything I’m sick of here (It’s named after a fish, for frog’s sake), just without the personal accompaniments and machinations I’m not sick of, the things I maintain my few remnants of sanity with. The biggest difference seems to be, at least according to the giggle images machine, that every home has a complimentary lighthouse growing next to it. Maybe I’ll get to eat in more restaurants shaped like boats* which make no accommodation or preparation for any patron who doesn’t want lobster or clam chowder. I made sure I would be staying in a rented house, too, so I could feel like a hypocrite for decrying the decry-worthy scoundrels who come here in the summer and think they own it, polluting it with their noise and ever increasing number of fences, despite utterly gweepsing out the instant the temperature drops below 70 degrees fahrenheugen. Thankfully, the grass-cutting club continues to return through November.
If you’re wearing a coat, it’s too cold to cut the grass! Also, if the grass has become yellow through any natural process unrelated to my own natural processes forming a loving union with gravity.
I don’t understand driving in a car for half ever to reach a place that looks just like Madison and that we still need to drive long distances from to get to any specific destinations which are still all 19th century / nautically themed. I’ve exceeded my fill of dopey restaurants in which the only non-chowder soup is “cheese onion.” Tugboat Inn = Guilford Mooring 6 hours’ drive from my home. I do not like either of those places.
It is unusual to eat inside a boat and all, but that doesn’t affect the flavor of the food much. I’m tired of places judging me for only wanting appetizers, specifically chicken fingers, and not even having good chicken fingers. I can understand them not knowing their way around a quesadilla… and I’m sure they’re glad to have my support. I had to get a quesadilla because they didn’t have chicken fingers at all. Or maybe they did, but only for “li’l sailors” or “young trappers” or “subservient cabin boys for long voyages” or whatever embarrassing thing they happen to call special children orders. I really ought to know better than to not like the flesh of the same small, helpless, murdered animal in my mouth as you.
But I’m digressing, and AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHJ I’VE BEEN PUNCHED IN THE NOSE!
In the event I’m incorrect in assuming my mother no longer watches this page, I should add that, at least today, I’m not criticizing the trip[s] [them]sel[ves]. Just Maine [and places like it] thinking [they’re] great. It’s nothing against you. It’s something against [someone else].
Have you noticed that when I complain about other people’s comedy it always ends up really unfunny itself and I can’t get rid of it for five days? Gosh, I hope not.
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Oh dear. Ohhhhh dear.
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Whowhat? Male Female? You mean like Big Momma (of Big Momma’s House fame)? Or just Relationships between males and females? Drat it all, I wanted to be surprised! I was under the assumption that the human race had ceased procreating. But you have spoiled that for me, once again. I wish I lived in a world where every movie, tv show and ad for automobile insurance had a predictable and improbable romance angle in it so I wouldn’t need to look forward to them like this.
Interestingly, or maybe not, on the series Martin, uh Martin is also said to have portrayed a talk show host. I’m not going to stretch for some irony that isn’t here (though I like to imagine Martin conducting interviews entirely by shouting), I just think it’s kind of dumb. Is this simply coincidence or does Martin Lawrence find something especially fascinating about talk show hosts? And if so, what? Is he a fan of big, pointless desks and bending his neck at unnatural angles to speak with people, while others watch and are not permitted to participate or leave? I remember, relatively recently, a program appeared simply titled Talk Show with Spike Feresten. Like just “Talk Show.” Is it spoofing the medium? Is it bucking the tropes? No, it’s just another generic white* man with a funny name behind a big desk talking to people selling junk I don’t want, occasionally airing pre-taped, seriously lousy video segments intended to be interpreted as comedic. Because the true problem with this kind of show was that there weren’t enough of them.
*well he is, even if Martin isn’t.
Really, the only apparent thing the slightest bit unusual is the fact that it airs at 12 am on Saturday, or Sunday, I suppose. Even if it looked more interesting than it does I probably wouldn’t watch it then, but fortunately it doesn’t. Its signature bit seems to be “comedy for stoners,” which is as lazy and unsatisfying as you could possibly imagine it might be. I saw it once, when I was curious as to what this curious new entry on my channel list was, and remember thinking “gosh, that was totally lazy and unsatisfying.” And today I watched several of them with my internet, all for you, bimshwel, and they still are. I just wish a wikipedia editor would make a comprehensive and utterly unnecessary, never proofread list of them all.
I admit the title “extreme hitlers” sounds interesting (as you know, historically Adolf Hitler’s policies were rather reserved and rational). Alas, I could not find it online, but I have full faith in the production crew that they could make it boring and tiresome 10 seconds into its magical minute. I have seen “electric lincoln” (you should not) and verily it belongs on the internet. In fact, “lemon party,” in which old men take off their clothing and go all gropey on one another after drinking kool aid, I’m told is based on some memely internet non-joke I’ve never heard of before now and hope I never do again, and therefore it doesn’t have to be funny.
A look at the full list suggest that obese, elderly or otherwise “unattractive” men wearing triangularly shaped scraps of clothing seem to be a common theme at the talkshow show, not surprisingly (why start now? (OOOH ZZAP!)).
I used to think my tendency to create pictures of shiny hairless imp-people lacking sextual identification was a result of a brain disorder, but maybe it’s secretly a very stupid protest against someone else’s. A lot of someone elses. SOCIETY IS BREAKING MY BRAIN WITH ITS GRUBBY GROIN EXTRAVANDANZAS. I would design a bumper sticker that says “don’t let crotch be your comedy crutch” if I didn’t think people who buy bumper stickers were the sort of people who enable this perverse pelvic perpetuation.
Yes, so, apparently all the show’s bits are lazy and I shouldn’t pick on that one. Not that youtube users are always the best arbiters of quality, but I have quite enough doubt in the aspects of my life which matter, so whether I’ve misjudged a program which could at best be kind of good due to its entire basis and format being dull and unoriginal shouldn’t AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH I’VE BEEN SHOT!
So why am I telling you? Why did I waste the last hour fretting about minor details of this pointless description of a pointless thing? I thought we were done with this. How could you do this to me? I could have watched two Talkshow shows in that time and been just as miserable with less effort. I think I just liked my Hitler joke, and also that I could make one without angry lawyers sending me letters about it.
I’m not bitter, there just happen to be a lot of things which remind me of that.
No, really?
My problem isn’t the reporting of this story, just the wording, like “hey, guess what we just found out that you haven’t suspected since ever!” In factual, if this story hadn’t just been broken I would have gone on assuming it had been lying in pieces beside the end-table since early 2004 or earlier. You know, how every two months a new “study” completes claiming to have proven that eating lard out of a bucket makes people fat. “Oh, thank me, thank me! Look at this magnificent knowledge I have bestowed upon you!” like you’re Mr. Wizard enlightening the world to the wonders of potato-powered time-pieces. I get enough of that attitude from Microsoft Windows.
Guess wha: You’re supposed to recover from errors! Supposed? No, you’re not supposed to have errors at all! Certainly not serious errors. When you charge money for something and force it onto every compatible computer for sale in the entire nation that should be your way of saying that you’ve looked for errors and rectified them! And if the product’s scope is so grand that this is impossible, but you have provided functions which fix inconceivable errors as they occur, don’t get all braggy about it. Windows.
In other news, Michael Clarke Duncan: his name was ALMOST Michael Dunk Clarkin. I’m glad my name isn’t Dunk.
Whenever I hear about Amy Winehouse I always think of Amy Grindhouse and then I wonder if she has a gun-leg.
Everybody knows it’s the grindhouse gases causing global warming. Either that or steamy goings on at Wisteria Lane.
Do you want to know a great way to fully creep people out so they never talk to you again? I will tell you. If a mutual shaking of hands is initiated, continue it forever. This is even better if the other person leaned forward to be involved. I should disclaim, however, that you only ought to do this to people that you wish to never have talk to you again.
I used to want to be a cartoonist, but the thought of me ever getting to a point where I had to be satisfied with that quality of output and that often made me want to die. I also surely lack the life experience to meet the annual golf-gag quota.
I remember back when all the characters, who hadn’t aged physically or mentally in ever, in an attempt to show that they had the vaguest connection with reality, started getting computers and making jokes that only made sense if you had neither an idea of how to use one nor any reason to have one. The moral of the story was always that you were better off reading a newspaper or using a typewriter, and you’d save money, too! Then a few years later Science Watch on The Local News discovered computers could do one new thing, at which point it was revealed that you were also better off listening to The Radio (no doubt further advances made since whenever I wrote and misplaced this have been thoroughly trounced by reference to the existence of marvelous television). Oh oh oh, I’ll never forget that Hi and Lois patriarch’s smug, half closed eyes fixed upon his big white booklet of horizontal black lines as he lerds it over his archetypally hip-yet-defeated developmentally stunted 40-year-old dwarf-offspring at the other edge of the frame whose internet browser is just so slow. No point is made in that comic so well as when it’s delivered by a character walk-posing or at least facing away from the problem. “Well I’ve solved this! There be no need to linger and have my proclamation questioned. I need regard it no further.” This is very much the trite domestic equivalent of “It’s a shame I won’t get to see you die! Ha ha ha!” except totally boring and without idealism personified escaping the death trap once left unattended. I do at least like some ambition in my monotony.
Ugh beans. Hi and Lois have just got it all figured out. I’ve seen similar frustrations brought up in regards to They’ll do it Every Time but mercifully I was spared from ever having a local news-paper which printed that. What’s important is that being disgusted by newspaper comics is a fairly consistent phenomenon among people aware of newspaper comics.
I remember more specifically that case of the mother character from For Better or For Worse (a title with the mathematical quantity of zero) struggling to open a box containing a cd-rom for a word processing computer program after one of her supposedly computer savvy children lures her from her typewriter and attempts to show her a better way to type-write. In the event you purchase a computer that lacks a typing receiver pre-installed, a computer which, by the way, you’d never find in a computer store, which is the only way a comic strip family would ever acquire one, and you purchased Microsoft Word on a CD, and your kids have been running it off the cd instead of installing it, then it is they who are dumb, and not necessarily all things which have been invented since your birth. Anyway, at the strip’s epic conclusion the mother has still not experienced success in opening the CD box and goes back to the typewriter and the end Heathcliff. No doubt this was based on the author’s own personal experience, not being able to open a CD box, which evidently takes longer to learn the arcane technique of than to draw and pen-trace a bunch of little boxes illustrating the failure. And now I have described it in many words.
I don’t know why anyone’s surprised that Hillary Clinton still has not admitted her lack of winningness in regards to the democrat-presidential-candidate nomination.
It took her a year to even admit she was in the ‘race,’ after everyone told me she was, and then at some point she announced that she would announce she was doing it later.
I’m sure it’s a massive improvement over lunchables (what wouldn’t be?), but i still vow to call Oscar Mayer Deli Creations sandwich in-a-box. Go ahead, ask me what this is a picture of. I will not respond, because I can’t hear you. This plan needs work. I’d send it back to the drawing board had my plan to acquire a drawing board not also been sent back to it. I have some rough particle-board eh board resting on and partially hanging over a potentially K-Mart desk someone else was planning to throw away.
Also, I spent several minutes looking for a picture I might have taken of my television showing an ad for Oscar Mayer Deli Creations. Apparently it’s very important to me that you get a 512×384 blurry picture of that with lines going through it.
I am terribly bothered by a name like Gamefly when its competition is the Gametap.
I have to like that Game-trouser-fastening-section slogan, though. Why even bother printing it anywhere? It’s useless. It’d be like if you had a store named food bag and its slogan was ‘ready to put food in bag.’ Ulk, you never listen.
The reason scout leaders are creepy is because these days creepy men are the only ones with Survival skills. On that topic, is it odd if I like Dwight Schrute the character but find Rainn Wilson himself kind of off-putting?
People shouldn’t say “no pun intended” …ever, less when they intend puns. Ooh, apparently Mr. Maddox has scooped me by some days. Potatar, four updates a year and one of them has to bite in on my bumble beef. What am I supposed to do, only post eleven gripelets today?
Why is there half and half but no third, third and third? I demand smaller fractions in the coffee flavorings I don’t use in the coffee I don’t drink!
Maybe my ears wouldn’t be deaf if you’d not let stuff keep falling on them.
When did detroit become dee-troit?
If heroin is a lethal drug to be dealing with, shouldn’t even an amount ingested which does not kill someone still be considered an overdose?
Revenge is a dish best served in a styrofoam tray. If you don’t have one, a plastic Darth Vader mask will suffice.
Every kiss begins with K. But so does every kumquat.
It’s not us versus them. It is me versus a wide assortment of thems.