I’m a selfish, ungrateful wretch who never does anything for anybody, but as long as you don’t know that, “the holiday season” is a great excuse to slack off on page updating.
However, I did see the “Hairspray” movie, actually in a theatre, back in July. For some reason it included a preview for the Underdog movie, which I had complained about extensively several days prior. I immediately typed a sternly worded complaint –yes, right there, in the theater, on my pocket typewriter– about it again but couldn’t stand redundancy and so here it is now.
7-29-2007
See? I included the date. That proves it.
In Hairspray, I appreciated the absence of actual songs from the 1960s. Nothing ruins my day like Paul Revere and The Kingsmen and the whoever did that dreadful yak song. All in all in, considering how much I hated the old Hairspray when we watched it at my uncle’s house like three times, this was shockingly bearable. Re: John Travolta: I realize the importance of having a man fill a woman role that was originally done by a man, but “they” ought to have found someone who could sing properly as a woman. Obviously I’m not really here to whine about this.
I’d like to see a remake of Brigadoon with more of the stage version’s songs in it and a proper ending. I don’t know if the omitted songs were any good, just that the movie I saw seemed like it could have used some more songs, most definitely at the end. I also think Van Johnson should have danced more than once, but that’d be unlikely in a remake since he’s 90 years old.
But ehhh…
The latest Underdog movie preview made the exact same clips look worse than ever. I’m addressing this subject again because the last time I was so mad that I forgot to make sense. The Underdog people don’t have an excuse for not making sense because they’re clearly all very proud of themselves.
What is it about dogs that brings out the schlockiest scripts, scummiest screenplays and corniest concepts in people?
And why would Jason Lee, who at one point looked as if he could have had a semi-respectable comedy film career, accept such a job if he knew the sort of sub-Growing Pains material he’d be working with? I know it’s a dog-eat-dog business, and one can’t assume one will ever be offered so much money again, but in this movie it would be a dog-eat-cat business. That’s the kind of material we’re dealing with.
There’s something about computer graphics that makes something awful twice as awful. So combining that with the dog problem is of course, not so much a recipe, but definitely a Hungry Man XXL microwave instructions for failure. You need to use the convection oven! Alas, few people see the logic of eating something out of a little cardboard box if they have thirty minutes to spare. I’m sure in my younger days I could have parlayed that remark into another anti-underdog simile, but I’ll leave it as it is for now.
The same day as that, I saw a television spot with the second newest* old standby of moron movie marketing, scripted fake out-takes. Oops! The trained dog we dub words over later messed up his line! Even though we recorded all his lines months ago and use computer tricks to make the dog’s mouth appear to move! Where’s my 1950s clickboard? Oh, it’s in this truth.com ad.
Anyway:
Who in the creative club speaks up and says
I could understand if this was a plot to sell off unsold junk manufactured in the 1970s or lousy dvds -I wouldn’t like it, but I’d understand it- but Disney has no claim to that. Increased awareness of the old product is not a goal. What is the goal? Could someone tell me what the goal is? Is it to make me so nutso that I strangle someone and get sent to gaol? Well, no one spells it that way anymore. Get with the program. Take a chill pill. Like, talk to the hand. You go, girl! D-d-d-d-don’t go there!
*I believe the process through which the words comprising dipshank critic blurbs appear on signs or are manipulated by characters in actual movie footage came just a bit later. I don’t know why anyone would want me to think the actual scenes look like that, but I don’t know why they do anything. Thankfully, Underdog hasn’t gotten much praise. It would have told me if it had. International markets may not be so fortunate as I, however.
Also, Daddy Day Camp and another Veggie Tales movie which I hope is only the second. Did I come to see Hairspray or retardo spray? Are these really targeting the same audience? These make the Stardust and Charles Bartlett previews look watchable. But I know they aren’t, and I won’t.
I will, however, advise Anthony Michael Hall to sue for dork infringement. I assumed it failed quietly and went away, but supposedly this movie’s release was merely delayed until February, so in all probability I’ll have to deal with these awful ads again. Beh. I can’t even manage a bah. I’m too weak.
Much like Are we Done Yet (which you may well be asking by now, and no, we’re not), the sequel to Are We There Yet, Daddy Day Camp’s demographicites are so witless they can’t even be trusted to count up to two. Or maybe it’s the screenwright who can’t. It’s hard to tell. This movie features mullet-centric jokes. I’ll grant that mullets are kind of dumb, but they’re not nearly as hilarious as the billions of jokes about them which have accumulated on the internet in ten years seem to think. Mullet jokes are the absolute hackiest rapiest ugh yon abe nab it short-circuited my brain. Maybe now I can write the next sequel!
A Veggietales movie. But what the help are Veggietales? Aside from a few rare spots for their other movie, I’ve never seen them anywhere. They’re a product of the modern Disney commercialism that keeps their absolute worst output invisible to anyone who might potentially warn the intended victims how stupid the things are. But they aren’t made by Disney. I don’t know who they’re made by. All I know is that I hate that person. The rumored heavy bible content isn’t even a factor. That’s how terrible veggietales are. What are they for? They’re not even “cute.” Their noses are too big and their eyes are too close together. I doubt, if they were real, anybody would want to eat them, either.
And this, it claims to be something like “the greatest vegetable movie of all time.” Ha ha, right? Except Attack of the Killer Tomatos was a tremendous success (I think) that plenty more people know about. Everything in this preview made me mad.
The subtitle is The Pirates Who Don’t do Anything, and already we know we’re in for a good time. Of course they don’t do anything; actual pirates rob, kidnap, rape and murder. They’re just bad news in general. Totally inappropriate for most children films. Besides, they need arms for all those things. Not that there isn’t rape and murder in The Bible, and we’d never selectively ignore, edit and otherwise remake The Bible and continue calling it “The Bible” to meet our particular indoctrination/marketing scheme, would we? That would be distorting God’s Word and
apparently there’s nothing wrong with that.
Or there are things wrong with it, but not the ones I suspected.
Also, they tend to latch onto unusual phrases or specific visual bits more than any intellectual matter behind the content. My imagination was captured- held hostage even, by the “Disney Classics” logo on a particular copy of Disney Robin Hood that my mother used to continually rent for me. There was another copy with a different Disney Classics logo that I didn’t like at all. I possibly demanded the tape be exchanged for the other. I was also fascinated by the FBI warning which occurred first.
I must not have been alone, because about 50 people downloaded the sequence from “retrojunk.com” and reuploaded it to… some other site and got congratulated for it as if they’d accomplished something. There’s even a big enough audience that it’s worth adding extra, irrelevant, garbage website logos to. I hate many people. Do you have any idea what an accomplishment it is to have me staring directly at a Disney notice of intellectual property, after mentioning Underdog, at that, and be complaining about something else? Remind me to explain that sometime.
Most importantly, that fascination of mine did not transition into a fascination with a more realistic, less abridged Robin Hood. My mother, bless her Dodge Aries, bought me a big purple Robin Hood book with pictures and stories and everything, but I was disappointed that the people depicted weren’t stupid cartoon animals. Let’s hope Disney never makes a bible movie. Though I admit Disney’s Bible has a wonderful blasphemous sound to it.
We wouldn’t want to work toward lengthening those attention spans, would we. No no no, it’s much easier and more lucrative to pander to every stage of spoiled bibly brattitude.
This here is actually an abridged version of an abridged version. I’ll never understand why people think small children need totally different things than slightly less small children. We give them special dumbed down bibles, stupided up cartoons, sapped around video games, even dumbed down food, eeeven though its all dumped down in the end regardless. And the original stuff isn’t all that smart. I don’t think I ever ordered a “happy meal,” but it’s not like normal chicken mcnuggets come with fois gras and vodka. When I was six years old I played grubbish old regular mildly violent Rygar, not Lil’ Rygar presents: L’il Rygar and Gruffy Adventures: My First Day of School: the Search for Rygella’s lost Bike Helmet. Because they didn’t make trash like that in 1989. It would have been Rygar and Son, but Rygar wasn’t a cartoon and so was exempt. But I was just trying to make a point. You don’t need to analyze everything I put here. Geesh. Chill out, man. Mellow out, dude.
Please don’t tell me that here, in this darkened cinemaplexus corridor, five months ago, is a poster hyping an Alvin and the Chipmunks production coming to theatres. Don’t tell me, I already know what it is. I was there and took a picture of it.
“They’re back & bigger than ever Christmas.” This must be a sequel to
I thought that looked pretty bad, too.
When I liked Underdog I hated the Chipmunks. I resented that they were the chipmunks even though Chip and Munk Dale were older and better. This was before they were the Rescue Rangers, back when they didn’t speak proper English and did hit each other a lot. Ah, the good old days before my petty biases. Yes, so, anything I hated before I became petty must have been hated for a reason. My only specific memory of The Chipmunks is that in one episode Alvin had a harmonica, was really obsessed with it, saying “my harrmonica!” a whole bunch of times, and I hate harmonicas too. It’s like a kazoo with undue respect.
There was also “The Alvin Show,” which “The Chipmunks” itself was a soulless trendy remake of, but The Alvin Show was still pretty bad, probably. If this movie wasn’t set to be released today (“Christmas” evidently meaning “some point in December”) I’d surely force myself to find out more about it. I’m glad I’m not going to. The 1960s was the worst decade for animation since the next one.
What’s really scary is that there are countless successful to moderately popular cartoons from the birth of cinema onward totally inapplicable to realistic environments, modern themes and assinine wisecrack culture that have never had live-space feature films made in the fogged-up-mirror image of, and we now know that it doesn’t matter who, if anyone, remembers them nor who, if anyone, initially watched them. The public outcries condemning the unanimous mediocrity of all previous such movies also does not matter. Betty Boop, Yogi Bear, The Mighty Heroes, Speed Buggy, Around the World in 80 Dreams, Stop the Smoggies, The Three Robonic Stooges… all of these are candidates to have fabulously funded, massively marketed, twit targeted and totally travestal movies made from them. When those are done, oh ho, there’s still The Shirt Tales, Moby Dick and Mighty Mightor, The Blue Racer, Rainbow Brite and the Shoprite Can Cans (including beets) to be raped beyond recognition. It will be unclear which were horrible to begin with. (hint: I only mentioned ones that were horrible to begin with)
Some of them will have sequels. All will have sequels initially planned. I hope they’ll have the decency to wait for that murder* I mentioned before making the Ren and Stimpy movie. Even if it’s totally true to the original it will be nauseating. More likely, though, it will be worse.
*five months ago, this was originally part of a considerably longer second tangent about me hating the Underdog movie in which I must have made some comment about me being murdered. I’m glad I survived.
Also, these are the only clips I’ve found from the English version of this program, posted by someone who only posts short excerpt clips of people transforming into animals, occasionally animals back into people, and tags them all TF because apparently this is popular enough viewing material that it needs a special abbreviation. So let me re-iterate: the only reason fat hobo Carlos is on the internet is because Stonebeet Shadowbuffalo’s friends get off on seeing this man become a bull. I don’t know that factually, but it’s been my experience that if something on the internet doesn’t make sense then someone’s probably rubbing out to it. Am I unjustified in being creeped up by that?
I don’t even know what aspect of this does the job; I assumed it had something to do with people’s clothing falling off the misshapen forms and or the tendency for it to even disappear altogether, but Carlos, to his credit, keeps his big red Hawaiian suspenderpants on through it all.
Isn’t it embarrassing enough going to Wal Mart to buy beans? I imagine a society in which beans may not legally be sold to children, and the only way to purchase them at most stores is to tell an attendant to get them for you. “Pardon me, my good cashiersman, but I require Beanee Weenee posthaste. And how! Do not tarry in rendering the product unto me! I have seen you tarry on past occasions and today that simply will not do.”
Wouldn’t it make more sense for a fish to wear a helmet over its ah snout than the top of its head, if a fish were to wear a helmet at all? In the event of a loss of control fish don’t really fall, they just keep going forward. Stupid fish. This fish, by the name of “Finn,” has also committed other questionable acts.
I can’t even work my way far down this image enough to wonder how the fish is operating that tiny bicycle or what the wheels are turning against to generate propulsion.
In the cold section at a Walgreens, or a CVS, or some other such place where a reasonable person should not be buying groceries:
Why bother freezing it? That stuff is 100% preservative. It makes packaged faddulous diet nonsense look palatable by comparison.
My problem with lunchables isn’t that they’re “lazy;” they aren’t any less so than Pop Tarts and bagels and people act satisfied with that junk all the time. Which actually is my problem, just not today. My current problems with lunchables are that they have tiny portions and must surely be really gross. I brought lunches to schools from my home every day applicable because I hated the small, gross things the school had and also the very idea that I might pay money for them. Hours in advance (Some people paid for whole weeks at once, which to me seemed and seems outright foolish even if you usually like that sort of thing). As long as a monetary transaction was taking place, I must have reasoned, I should get a pizza. A real pizza, I mean. Why call that rubbish “pizza” when it so obviously isn’t and dumb kids are buying your bad lunches anyway? Have some dignity. No, not the curious orange lump that comes with the ‘B’ lunch.
There has been much popular lore regarding the criminally awful food like things presented in schools, yet people still eat them. To do so is a skill I have always lacked. I’m probably luckier than I realize.
But lunchables! If my mother, a person fairly well acquainted with me and who wasn’t preparing mealoids for 500 other brats
let me get stuck with the same sort of thing as the cafetorium produced except colder (or sausage) I’d… I’d… just not eat it. And then some yak at the school would force one of its lunches on me, and then I wouldn’t eat that, like I said I wouldn’t, and then someone would call my house later saying we owed them two dollars, and I would be shamed for life. That would be dreadful.
Do people really use these things in this way? Do people really bow honorably before this machine to get hot air on their heads? I become too self conscious and paranoid in public restrooms to dare do such a thing. Even if I could think of a logical context in which it would occur to me to try this I wouldn’t do it. But why would you? Did you just wash your hair in the sink? I admit I’ve been forced to use automatic sinks fussy enough that the only way to get a useful amount of water would be to place a head sized object before their sensors, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to.
That is, I presume the lower glyph is meant to represent a person’s head, disembodied or not, and I presume the finger-print/stove-top burner design is meant to represent the disembodied head’s hair. Another question would surely be who is short enough to be able to get their heads into this position. The drying apparatuses tend to float maybe about three feet off the ground. You’d either have to be a small child, who I’d recommend get out of this room as fast as possible regardless of how wet your hair is…though now that I think of it you wouldn’t be tall enough to reach the sink, meaning your hair would only likely be wet if someone had dropped you in the toilet, in which event, again, I’m telling you to get out of there as fast as possible and tell the police. So either you’re really short or you truly have decapitated someone, someone with wet hair, that you want dry, which at last explains why the head pictured is not attached to anything.
I’m sick of your paper! the world is not paper with words written on it! file this! copy this! print this! read this! THE WORLD WILL CONTINUE WITHOUT YOUR PAPER. YOUR PAPER IS AN ARBITRARY CONSTRUCTION WITH NO UNIVERSAL SIGNIFICANCE. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DENY ME LIFE BECAUSE I DISREGARD YOUR STUPID PAPER!
I was looking for something I typed a few months ago about meat, and I found that, from early 2005 or thereabouts, and I can’t remember what it means.
*this was before the house was remodeled; it’s possible the stain was unremovable and that’s why we blocked the way with electronic junk and used the kitchen door for ever after that.
If we didn’t, surely the people who bought the house have by now.
But these days, I must report that on the whole, the beef to bread ratio I encounter in hamburging foods is intolerable. I think during the 1990s there was a lot of bickering and name calling over which establishment used the most meat, and I missed the transition entirely. And a lot of these places will put extra layers of their oversized beef layeroids in there, so not only can I not take a proper bite from it, what I do get just tastes like a big glob of death. I might as well eat it with a fork. In some instances I might as well eat the fork. Back when I was afraid of noodles, whenever we had hamburger helper I would just have the meat in sandwich form, and that worked, because of the magic flavor dust helping the hamburger. Cheese is nice and all, when it’s not white and american, but it’s no dust. Also, the filling wasn’t all stuck together, so there’s less meat density. Any excess that shouldn’t be in there will fall out through the natural forces of the world. At some point before I die I would like to eat a manwich.
They don’t look like that. Come on, lettuce and wonder bread? You can’t trust wikipedia.
Verily, there’s no quality like grip quality. I can’t imagine why anybody would ridicule anyone involved with this.
pog knows we don’t want grips frowning on us. One thing that’s never changed since I’ve been on the internet: “lazy” is the ultimate comic strip promotion tool. I’m impressed the writer spelled “too” properly.
“Lope” being the dumb lizard’s name. You may be astounded to know that people have asked.
Hey, another snow picture. And it won’t be the last, either. I prefer depicting it to dealing with it.
That, the previous thing, I only mentioned it because I felt I had to. I didn’t, really, but eh I did. A proper dissertation on that website’s garbagityness would surely have taken few days for me to get out and wouldn’t have been all that entertaining. Not that what I ultimately said was, but in this alternate case the intent wouldn’t even have been there. Intent is important, so you don’t get cold at night. I do this to amuse myself, after all.
Only on the internet does a name like “detroit is crap” pass for innocuous.
Ehhh? What could this mean?
If you can paste your hand-grasping-noose logo on to the beginning of video clips you recorded off of local news broadcasts, if you can urge people to print and place the awful thing in all possible public areas, if you can host your own fairly popular white supremacy website, you can host your own food stamps picture. Or get an imageshack account like every other webhobo out there. Great gimpity.
It may not hurt their cause one way or another to have a posterior wiping cartoon frog on their main page instead of a food stamp picture, I just didn’t want whoever that was to get exactly what he or she, –ehhh– he wanted. This would be true even if he wasn’t a disgusting white supremacist, but he is (There’s a bit of anti-semitism mixed in, but it’s not the main focus). I also didn’t want to substitute anything that would potentially get American History X coming after me, at least to the extent that someone can “come after” me on the imaginary internet, because I’m really no good at dealing with that. I almost cried when somebody typed “faggot” at me once. And it was by a lady person older than me who draws pictures of elves wearing leotards, so obviously my personal defenses are not all that great.
What that website does is selectively (I must assume) display news reports about dark-skinned people in the area who have committed really nasty crimes/said something kind of dumb. In the cases where no suspect has been named, egg: “white woman’s torso found shoved in manhole” the site assumes a black person did it.
I can’t excuse what a few really poor crazed black and guessed-to-be-black people do today any more than I can excuse what a lot of really rich socially acceptable white people did 100 years ago and also before and after that. The fact is that what’s happening in Detroit is merely an excuse for people who were already racists to pretend they have a point. Much like I use new garbage computer generated movies to complain about the ones I already hated. They don’t hate Detroit because of blacks, they hate Detroit because they hate blacks. An oversimplified explanation for a complicated problem? It is less so than is lynch advocacy.
These people scare me, and I’m probably whiter, pigmentally, than any of them. I assume there are quite a bunch because I’ve had over 400 hitz to the one warmlinked picture in just the first day of December. For me, that’s a lot to have in a month. If “webalizer” is to be trusted, it’s over three times what I get to any of my actual pages, robot visits included! I’m too tired from investigating the issue of today to try to figure out if this is a joke or isn’t.
I was making fun of the depiction of food stamp recipients, not the recipients themselves. It’s alright to show impoverished masses as dancing smiling foops if you’re adapting a Charles Dickens story for stage, but if you’re a government agency I think you should take a more realistic approach. And if you’re an angry white kook in Detroit I’d appreciate if you didn’t bite my bandwidth, regardless of whether I was likely to eat it myself. That’s rude.
It’s possible to view what I wrote four years ago as implicit unjustified racism, but it isn’t that. There is some resentment for the specific class of poor people who are no good bums and/or brutally violent, but this is independent of their brown quotient and doesn’t extend to people who might happen to superficially resemble them who are neither bums nor violent. And that bit of resentment certainly is not of a militantly hostile nature. There is a considerable amount of crime and general evilness between races, because of races, but it goes in every direction. Anybody who believes that one “side” should, can or will prevail is not thinking properly. Even the concept of distinct “races” in itself is flawed, but bwah on that for now.
I think if the food stamp picture were in any way accurate, websites like the one about Detroit would not exist. Or they would but I’d just laugh at them. I confess I have a weakness for sites written in complete sentences, but I want no association with that one beside what I’m saying right now. I may even rebut this later.
I have not added a new page of stupid non-storyish pictures recently. Ah, there we go. The delay is not surprising: look at how big they are! They were heavy and quite difficult to lift. If you’ve seen some of them already, then I must have been the victim of art theft.
These are special dishes small children are intended to eat out of, because… well, you know how they are.
The dark lord of the Sith is popular with the Dora crowd. The fact that just such a mask assisted a man’s life support for several decades without replacement proves that they are manufactured with sterility and clenliness in mind, so why not eat off of one?
I shouldn’t be surprised. Even the Please Be Offended Rabbit, the biggest fudnuddling scumcylinder in all of merchandising pretends to not be evil to sell more junk.
It occurs to me now that I’ve never seen the actual, regular series Darth Vader eat. He probably has to take all nutrients intravenously. That product up there would depress him greatly, and not even because it simulates eating his face off. But wow, you know, I could really go for some face right now.
Face Total, which even includes ears and eyebrows. Additionally, it’s much easier than eating twenty one bowls of Face corn flakes.
Why does baby clothing have words on it? Babies can’t read! Unless they’re Baby Geniuses. And if they are you should just get rid of them before they become Baby Geniuses 2. Or uh 3.
You’re probably right, person who made a ridiculous, unverifiable claim, never posted before or again and whose avatar doesn’t work.
You’re probably right that it will be well behaved enough to not openly criticize its predecessors. What that has to do with cats being able to fly making you be what your name is I’ve spent enough time looking at your other posts to know not to bother trying to figure out.
But ehhh, why does it matter what babies wear at all? Within a day it will be covered with brown-green slop whatever it is.
This, ingeniously, is already slop green, and additionally simulates having insects crawl all over your en-sloppened bundle of slop.
I wish people wouldn’t dress babies in… dresses. I’ve never once seen one wear something like this without having its diaper clearly visible 70% of the time. They don’t care what they’re wearing, and neither do the parents who rarely incorporate the garment’s style into their baby-carrying plan, and I don’t want to see diapers, so stop it! On the whole, very few of my senses wish to detect diapers.
The path to becoming a gloating male supremacist starts in the womb. That’s probably printed on the back as if it’s a good thing.
Am I reading needless implications into what is simply a joke? Possibly, except it’s a joke you (the imagined buyer) didn’t think of, that you bought at a store, and that you forced upon another human being who can neither comprehend nor opt out of the joke. And you never one time doubted the virtue of your actions. I hate you! As long you’re an imagined buyer I’ll further imagine that my approval is very important to you.
Which brings us to GOLD DIGGER!
Children are never too young to wear derogatory labels for, essentially, prostitutes on their clothing. Or rather, children are never too young for their parent-like-units to prescribe the label for them. Ehhh? Oh. This is for dogs. Yes, I see, what with the rubber bones off at the right and the word DOG not at the right. It’s still stupid. It may even be stupider. Dogs don’t usually wear clothing at all, correcty? Yes. Good. Just so we understand each other. If they did wear clothing, it wouldn’t be because they wanted to convince us what insufferable molbols they are. That rabbit is still naked, right?
No! Don’t turn to face me! Didn’t you hear the abuse I just directed at you? I want nothing to do with you! Arrrgh! What’s wrong with you? You look like an idiot! (you are.) And don’t smile! You’re biologically unfit to do so!
Ubggggggigiggg…. There’s no excuse for that beast. None at all. How do these things find me?! I want to throw a sock full of rocks at that thing! I want to throw TV’s Roc Charles S. Dutton, at it! You hear me, lizard? I’ll throw a very special Roc at you! In front of a live studio audience! I wish that show got better ratings so I could shame you in front of as many people as possible, not necessarily because it would have lasted more seasons then, because I always found it boring. I learned about racism through Family Matters. But I didn’t learn enough, evidently, because I thought the family on Roc were essentially the same people, and I was disappointed when they weren’t as wacky. I was eight years old. But anyway. What’s important is that I want to throw a large fat man at that thilly thmiling theropod up thither.
Whaaaa? That’s too stupid! And don’t you dare try and make that my problem! I hate ducks and I hated you before you were a duck! I hope this will at least serve as a warning to other dumb animal people that would attempt to address me. I will have none of it.
Fool, how could you not see that coming? Look at the original juxtaposition of the images! You are beside yourself with imbecility! And… and… I drew you at 2:50 am! That’s not afternoon at all! If it was, it would not be good! You made it bad!
I hate this ad! Yes, it’s true!
Also from last February, but it appeared again recently. That is never good.
Scummy people outside their cars in a parking lot!
“How long ’til game time?” one asks another in as few syllables as possible.
“ONE HOUR 27 MINUTES,” this ridiculous person responds in a way that suggests she thinks she’s the only person on earth with a watch and she’s proud of it. Yet that’s not what the joke is supposed to be. This is a funny ad with a swerve. This is the believable part.
“One hour twenty-seven minutes later.” and they’re still totally attentive. And that’s not the joke either. I’m to take this as an acceptable, non-absurd time transition.
And then the fat man at front says GAME TIME. in this aggressive, satisfied voice like he’s raping a chipmunk which has given up trying to break free. What a horrible person!
The joke is supposed to be that they’re waiting for a lottery drawing to start, instead of, one must assume, something else. Plenty pathetic, yes, but waiting an hour and 27 minutes in front of a television set, in a parking lot, is ridiculously stupid regardless of what you’re watching. Regardless of what you’re watching an hour and 27 minutes from now, I mean.
Why would you ever have a television in a parking lot? What would you plug it into? How would you get reception, when we all have to be dependent on fancy hookerups that we can’t move and never fully own and have to pay for until we die to see anything these days? If it’s so easy to take your indoctrination machine on tour with you, why not go to a beach or a roller disco or a movie theater showing Enchanted with it? Any place at all would be more welcoming and comfortable than a generic asphalt void. But then, these people are so pathetic and easily impressed I suspect where they come from parking lots are the only things left. I doubt it was paradise before, though.
I’m not going to feign total ignorance, I’ve seen this type of fat-sweatshirted-oaf gathering depicted in ads before, generally associated with Amelica futbol. I do not watch the football (I’m simply not ready) but I’ve seen its timeslots on my tv listings, and football games last like four hours. If you’re lumping about for an hour and a half before that, and you do this every week, how can you not want to die? If you’re cramming salt and cheese cheez into your mouth the whole time, how can you not die? I mean; if it was me I’d run out of snacks before the thing even started and just go home. Which actually doesn’t sound that bad, if someone else provides the snacks and miraculously doesn’t exclusively buy things I hate. Maybe I should try to get in on this.
Well. Apparently I forgot to click “publish” four days ago.
Sometimes these things happen.
This is from February, which legally counts as “this year.”
My problem is not that the animals are painted on airplanes, it’s not that they talk, it’s not that they try to be funny in that ultra obnoxious mid 1990s-forever humor style (Like when something embarrassing happens, instead of helping the situation or just keeping quiet an observing party says “awkwarrrd!” or “busted” and makes me want to murder), but actually the combination of all those things. I remember that the dominant male airplane painting asked the sassy female airplane painting on a date and got SHOT DOWN. Oooh, slice. Even if I didn’t hate these character archetypes three times as much as usual when they’re applied to animals which would be highly unlikely to engage in contemporary North American courting rituals, the fact of the matters is that as paintings they cannot move. They cannot go anywhere. They are stuck on the airplanes eternally. It is doubtful they can even see each other, being two dimensional and unfeasibly able to look in any direction other than straight ahead. Even if somehow the reverse side has another looking forward painting, that would have to be a separate two-dimensional animal or else risk violating the laws of everything. Even if they can look forward and backward at the same time, the other airplane the fox airplane speaks to is in a different row and depicts a species of doubtful breeding compatibility. What any of this has to do with bookling flights I have not even thought about yet. If the frontier airlinists wanted me not to do that they succeeded.
The only thing less original than naming a rabbit “Jack” is naming a fox “Foxy.” Sure, “Grizwald” is a terribly uncreative name for a bear that’s been used enough times in the past, but at least it has the “wald” in there. The bit about the penguins is alarming, as that probably only happened because there was a feature film last year about singing penguins. So now penguins always have to sing? America hungers for singing penguins? If something’s corny and annoying, commercial businesses will rip it off and perpetuate its annoying corniness.
Hey, if this is on the radio, aren’t you just hearing voice actors? How do you know they’re animals at all unless they say so, and why would they say so? Arrrrrrrrnnnnndiudiudiudiudiudiuh!
I doubt those airplanes go any place I’d want to go anyhow. Even if they did I probably wouldn’t because I’m afraid of being legally rape-searched because my hair was too long or the handwriting analysts don’t trust my serifed 1s. And then I’ll probably be arrested and raped again in jail because I’m always carrying something somebody doesn’t like. My worst-case air disaster scenarios always end long before I get in the air.
Is that a paperclip?
It appears to be so.
What?
Yes, it is a paperclip.
You getting smart with me?
No! I was very stupid to bring a paperclip!
Why do you have a paperclip?
Because I put it in this pocket three years ago and forgot about it.
Have you ever downloaded roms?
I… don’t see how-
Answer the question or get naked!
I can’t even get far enough to become stuck in a delay. Terrorism? What’s that? Is that when you get raped legally in the name of maintaining order? I’m sure while my orifices quake afterwards I’ll be grateful those people were so organized.
In summary: foxes are bad news and should be dealt with accordingly.
Evidently, wordpress has a post-size limit. “Evidently” by its inability to process ones over a certain size, not because this information is explained or acknowledged anywhere, because it isn’t.
This is what I was trying to tell you.