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Anything more recent goes here.
I love crumpets and Freud!
Believe me, I think war movies are as boring as anyone who thinks they are boring, but it still bothers me that "unlikely" sports triumphs, which are irrelevant to everything, are given just as much, if not more significance in film. Disney thinks slapping the phrases "based on-" or "inspired by-" "a true story" justifies the display of stuff that's deadily dull. Now they have a dogsled movie. It was going to be Snowdogs 2 and straight to dvd Disney DVD™®, but once a "true" story interjects itself suddenly everything's serious and angry and important instead.
Similarly, I'm pretty sure Glory Road was going to be Air Bud 2 (seriously? You're telling me there already is an Air Bud 5?!). I realize (not from wanting to, please understand) a major part of Roadle's story is that of black kids getting to play basketball against white kids, but I'm not watching basketball whoever's playing (similar to the Simon Cowl situation), so it makes not the difference to me. The triumph is certainly not unlikely if the black kids win. Glory Road might just as well be a movie about my heroic struggle through Victory Road.
That triumph is even less unlikely, as I can keep giving myself extra lives, but at the same time depressing and heartwrenching, because my right arrow key has recently become unresponsive, meaning Ikari Warrior gets murdered a lot as a result of not dodging or moving to attack in that direction, or sometimes doesn't get defeated, and just stands around doing nothing until I hit the button hard enough because there's a barrier in the way. It is inspirational in the aspect that I feel inspired to buy a new keyboard. Or a new computer that a keyboard is supplied with (yet not a monitor, it seems. What's going on here?).
This could be a series. Another game whose place in my life was just as epic as it would have been remembering the titans: Hero's Quest (so I wanted to be a hero). Crabs, the game was renamed a few years later to have Glory in the title, so even that is appropriate. What had happened was that I stabbed a plant to get the magic seed, which later caused, as punishment for my not throwing a peaceful and benevolent rock at the plant instead, the Sorcerial Sierra Woodsprite of Spite to appear and transform my Caligula into a game-losing plant of similar shape, long after I'd overwritten any possibility of reloading an old save and undoing the deed.
However, through hard work, determination, and restarting the game and doing what my cousin told me to ("type 'pick up rocks'") instead of what I wanted to do (stab deer, stab 'Enry, stab mouse), I eventually triumphed over some final foe or task which I have completely forgotten.
No, not this one.
Speaking of Sierra, what happened to 7-up? Why was this allowed to usurp 7-up's store shelf space? This is like Progresso soda. Jim Gaffigan only acts like he likes it because someone paid him to (whatever it was it wasn't enough).
I'm pretty sure he was never shown drinking it.
He'd probably pretend to like Hot Pockets too if the price was right and he did not have to eat one. It's not as terrible to Sprite as Pepsi is to Coke, but that's irrelevant because I like 7-up better than Sprite, too.
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What the gives? I finally got online after four days and I don't even have the right index.html. This needs to stop. However, for the sake of consistency, it will continue happening.
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I have decided to leave "new page" indicators where they first appear rather than removing them, as I did before, because the list at the right is too long to make sense of.
Sneeze Green Muc-Eyes
More "actual people I've met" stories. You will either like this page a bit or hate it a lot. It should really be two pages, but since the first one was unfinished when I started the second, I thought I'd just put them together. And then the second one dragged on for two months after I finally finished the first. I'm glad I've worked out such a fine system after three years.
01-28-2006 |
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I think you know very well what I meant.
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 I'll bet the person who walked through the room and saw me alone at the dry erase board thought I was writing obscenities. What else are unattended dry-erase boards good for, after all. I wonder if he ever returned to discover it is only the stupidity and worthlessness of the scoundrel animal trapped within the circle I did not make which is obscene.
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Is that shorbet in the dish, or just two slashed nerf balls? I suppose it must be nerf balls. I was silly to even ask. While I certainly ordered shorbet, you and I both know it's nerf or nuthin'.
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BED 'N BREAKFAST?
Why do people make jokes at the expenses of Clay Doh Aiken and Ryan C-Crest for being gayey when Simon Cowell was on the Americans Theydull show for a whole year before them and all the ones after that? The remarks about "sexual tension" between that man and the woman strategically positioned near him are much funnier. Mr. Cow just pays off visual media people to say straighty stuff about him. He has the money. I am not saying he is of the goy or that I think he is (because I don't want to imagine him being naked with anyone), I'm only saying that he's just as effemimate as certain other people labelled as such. He probably does that stuff with loads of women. Because he's really a lesbian in disguise. In which case he is gay. See, this is all too confusing. If what my sources tell me is true, a similar secret is kept by season 18's champion Fantasia Smith, being that she is actually a gay man.
That whole show is one giant gay extravadanza. It's like Cirque du Soleil without the talent.
I said that the man(?) Scowell "has the money," and while I do not know what his salary is, I hear that he was credited with "creating" a show in which celebrities sing duets with other kinds of celebrities who had singing albums first before appearing in movies, and the only people allowed to come up with these ideas have to be rich already, because it's such an easy job even the people who watch the shows could do it, and apparently there are millions of these folkles. Watch this. We'll have celebrities cook food. Bam, I just created a show. Celebrity Bake-off. Where my money? Uh, here comes another one.
'Til Dorf do us Part: Celebrity divorces as performed by Tim Conway.
But Can They Recite the Alphabet Backwards? The next show in a series of shows designed to answer questions about famous people no one has ever asked.
Get the Skinny: Panel of contestants ask featured thin celebrities monosyllabicly worded questions to determine whether they engage in anorexia, bulimia, or just a cocaine habit. To make the game intersting, one celebrity is allowed to tell truth.
Water Polo with the Stars: They aren't any good at it, but hey! They're stars!
But Can They Juggle Chainsaws? The hopefully final show in a series of shows designed to answer questions about famous people no one has ever asked.
Hollywood Laundry: Highly recognizable people operate, wait for ordinary washing machines that take $500 bills instead of quarters.
Celebrity Fight Club: I am not at liberty to disclose details of pertinance to Celebrity Fight Club. In fact, there is no Celebrity Fight Club. Which is good, because no one would know to watch it on account of my not being allowed to talk about it.
Snatch Game: Match the "celebrities" with the grainy, poorly lit "sex tapes" they "accidentally" leaked to the internet in unfortunately not at all misguided attempts to help their "careers."
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Name that Tool: Home viewing audience votes on snazzy distinctive labels for the newest batch of smiling, opinionless, talent-devoid dorks holding microphones who somehow seem to keep getting jobs. Hosted by Name-to-be-Determined. Winner has to host next season. | |
Ear Factor: Contestant must determine which of a series of sillhouettes is a member of the British royal family.
Celebrity Bo: Bo Derek, Bo Diddley, Bo Bice and Bo Jackson compare their life experiences of having the name "Bo."
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It seems to me that if having a pretty plunger (there are actually three spherical things at the end just for appearance) is important to you, you aren't ever going to use it, so why have a plunger at all? Unless you eat a lot of unicorn or leprechaun meat, this is probably going to turn out badly.
Similarly, if this is even half as XTREME as is implied by omitting the first E, it's going to break any glass it touches. Keep in mind that this is the sort of windshield-washing fluid that bungee jumps, sky dives and tightrope-walks without an umbrella. The only reason it's not green like Mountain Dew is because there's less urine in it (for flavoring purposes), as it is not meant to be drunk. By mortals, anyway. You could not have possibly bought this for your car, you pretty plunger purchasing pussywillow. You just like having big bottles of blue liquid around in case you need to test the absorbency of any diapers. And still you fail, as you'd get a more accurate result using Mountain Dew on account of the urine content.
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Page 36 of this.
I was glad at having only taken fifteen days rather than thirty, exactly half the time of the previous, to make the new page. Too glad, as it should have taken no more than four. Therefore, I needed to sabotage the situation somehow to keep it from happening, so as to punish my ill-gotten glee.
I accidentally cropped out 60% of panel 9 here, saved the file stupidly, and didn't notice what was missing until later. The noticing of this required a day of denial to recover from, and then more time to actually replace the lost bit. The original, every pixel of which coming out right the first time, despite being mostly identical to panel 8, had such a unique and perfectly stupid look to it that I thought the page would have been best served to end there. The remake, by contrast, requiring constant undos (undoings, I suppose), zoom-outs and rethinkings, I can only look at with contempt and loathing, as if to say "how dare you try and replace my dead friend."
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For the first time, I hope, but am probably wrong, an spc file of the normal mario paint music playing with the effects from the music composition screen (in which you hear other music than that). It is extremely stupid and I do not know how it happened. Well, I have some idea, as I was able to get it doing this a second time after my first attempt to save an SPC of it failed. However, the absense of a joke line only becomes more obvious with more needless information given. You do not need to know that I got it to happen twice and the whole thing seemed more special when you did not. This is a similar MP3, for the everyone who will see this that doesn't have an SPC player set up.
If you have never made music with Mario Paint, this should give you an idea of what you missed out on this will mean absolutely nothing to you. I have the second music like that, too, but it is twice as long and half as stupid. The third one has only additional silence. They have made wise decisions.
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It is a seperate page instead. It has no pictures at all. I lack the courage to seek them out. You do not have to read it. I just need to think you might.
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Thursday, January 12, 2006 |
expect nothing, be grateful you're not kidnapped
NBC's newest isn't that CRAVEH? show Bodaniel may actually succeed, because unlike the last every things The Company put out which looked absolutely terrible, I only saw two advertisements for this one before its due date instead of two-hundred. Also, following the initial broadcast the man who sounds like he's wearing candy dentures didn't say "Last week 25 million viewers made Book of Daniel a hit!" to set up the perfect irony when it is cancelled in February. He wants to say that, but I don't think 25 million people/500 people with Nielsen boxes watched it. Perhaps there is hope, then. Of course, he didn't say that about a similarly promoted Look! Be offended! series known as Gott, der Teufel, und Bob (which predated my ability to complain about it here) either, and that was also quickly canceled. I think the moral of this story is that I should stop writing about television shows, because they are not going to get better and I am not going to get better at writing about them.
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As I was opening a can of soup today, I could not help but notice (oh, how I DID try) that we seem to be approaching fast the Super Bowl XL. This is not of concern to me, because I just have the soup out of the pot, but other people may find significance in this. First of all, that is probably the weirdest way anyone gets football news. More to the point, from what I know of Roman numerals, there will never be a better time to stage an XFL comeback (last week 58 million viewers made XFL a hit!). And unless you feel like waiting exactly 100 years (at which point it is my hope that football no longer exists), that Hungry Man XXL tie-in opportunity is not to be missed. Another opportunity not to be missed, one for me to show that not everything about this website was better three years ago.
On the subject, I disapprove of microwave ob aboh (AKA microwavable bowls). The most obvious reason, one's net weight (432 grams) is less than that of a proper can (527 grams). However, it is much more than half, so I'm either getting less or considerably more than before if I take two. The only way the end figure can come out even is if I normally consume 432 cans worth of it. Typically, though, I have slightly less than that in a single session. And while I consider portion increases in food products I don't hate changes positive in nature, I shouldn't have to deal with two containers. Especially two containers with weird rules. First I have to remove the plastic lid, then I have to remove the second, metal lid, and then I need to put the first lid back on. I had not even begun to consider the technical and physical implications of doing that twice until you brought it up just now. Why don't I start up a cat-washing service too while I'm at it. The bowl itself is trouble, as well. Even though there's less soup per unit, it still somehow finds its way right up to the very edge of its holding place, meaning I'll probably spill some going to wherever I'm going, and surely spill more if I go at a decent speed.
It's not as bad as going to a restaraunt, ordering something, having to put it together myself, eat a pile of rice and or beans I did not order and still be expected to leave a tip, but it shouldn't be bad at all.
Worst of all possibly is just having to use a microwave oven. Microwave ovens are scum. They've ruined an entire generation's perception of what passes for acceptable popcorn. I hate having to rely on them for anything.
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I recently misspelled the word "television" as "televosion." It has now been corrected to read "telovision."
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Extreme Makeover: Home Edition: I have heard a few things about . Why isn't it just called Extreme Home Makeover? Or Make Home Extremeover? The "edition" seems superfluous, as I know of no other editions. If there were others, pertaining to things beside homes, it couldn't possibly be the same people doing the making over, as they'd surely lack, if not the time or the skills, then most surely the extremeness, so to consider them as the same series would be erroneous.
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Oh no! BIG SMILES!
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I have long maintained that olympics are incredibly boring, and now nbc chooses to mock me in such a way as this, and others of similar nature that I do not have pictures of. "Look," it seems to say. "Look at what we have the technology to do! We can send fireballs after the skupping speed-skaters! We just choose not to!" If this advertisement gets any people to watch who previously would not have, it will only have been through the lies
(lying about the use of sorcery), and once those hypothetical persons see that there are no fireballs, why would thems continue watching? All there will be to see are the same dull events as always, the same long waiting periods between performances, the same useless pro-USA propaganda vignettes, the same arbitrary ancient Japan code of honor-based scoring and rule system that makes no sense which no one is allowed to know, and I will have none of it! Them!
Even if the fireballs are fake (and I say they do not have to be) it still gives the impression of excitement and beside that something to look at other than the athletors who are all, for the most part, doing the exact same thing, and have been for quite some time. First of all, it's fire, which looks neat, even in the context of more fire, but now there's the contrast and reflectability of frozen water, which makes that so much more so. Players who do not get engulfed in flames may still find themselves struggling with ice of meltitude.
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Saturday, January 07, 2006 |
OH NO! THEY GOT YOU. YOU'VE BEEN CURSED BY THE DRAGONS AND NOW YOU'RE A GRUESOME CREATURE!
A valid question, and here is another, I believe, perhaps, of greater importance:
Is Ciara a mediocre singer? Is Ciara a mediocre rapper? Is Ciara a background singer or rapper? Is Ciara a contestant on an elimination show? Is Ciara not wearing clothing? Is Ciara even the person in the picture? Is Ciara some type of regal head adornment? Is Ciara another unwelcome 64-count crayon box color replacement from Crayola? Is Ciara a distributor of bootleg Roberta Williams games? Is Ciara a new erectile-dysfunction treatment? Is it really, really bad that "erectile-dysfunction" is a thing which anyone says? Can we not come up with a singular word for that, preferably lacking "erect?"
Someone's getting an attitude.
But not an... no, stop. End.
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I was watching some garbage on Tuesday and suddenly a local news reporter I did not recognize interrupted the program to inform me that twelve miners had been rescued. This was, fittingly, news to me, as I had no idea there were even twelve minors in need of being rescued. I thought they got out of there years ago. It turns out this was a whole new batch of trapped miners, the next generation. It was also news to me because it happened in West Virginia, and yet a Connecticut station somehow has people standing by live over there. And then that was done. And then a few minutes later the actual network feed insets the main picture and scrolls a text message along the bottom of the screen saying the exact same thing. Much later, legendary Nightline (having been pushed back by an all important football game between someones or others) decides "let's devote two out of three program segments to this story that we have no information on." Essentially they just display, over and over, the same footage of some woman I immediately hate who is wearing a blue jacket and a white hat, running past the camera saying "they're all alive! They're all alive!" And then some crown jackass in a car rolls down a window, says "believe in miracles!" and drives off. All through the broadcast, walmarty-looking dopes, dipes, and even a few depes won't stop saying what a miracle this was that all of the mining ones survived. Even though they know one of the miners was dead. 'Ey. 12 out of 13 miners surviving their job is not a miracle. Unless that thirteenth miner was a real so-and-so unworthy of divine intervention, it only seems of remote logicality to label the situation a "miracle" if all involved escape the incident. Uwah, no, a miracle is if they survive and come back with the Energon Cubanium Crystals they discovered, you know, mining, invent a renewable electricity system from studying the crystals and shut down the awful mine which is going to continue killing people (since clearly no one feels like fixing the problem) otherwise and whose product is going to continue killing everything else. I challenge anyone who disagrees to a coal miner's glove match. This is what I thought that day when I saw that.
Then, the next day, Nightline, similarly postponed, devotes its show to the very same people, who found out five hours earlier that 12 of the 13 miners were actually dead. This information was apparently not important enough to interrupt anything for. Why is it only breaking news if they survive? I suppose it's possible that this did interrupt something, five hours earlier, but that is somewhat arrogant of The Network to assume I am watching it at all times of the day. Had I the sense to give up on television shows once I realize I hate them, I might very well have still think the mine guys live, if I had managed to remember, and posted a considerably less sensitive version of the above item. And then... then where would I be? Right here, but doing something other than typing this, that's what.
What perplexes me is that interviewed Mineville citizens seemed more annoyed at having been misled than at eleven new deaths. "We were lied to. They lied to us." No, "they" didn't lie to anyone. One slight twit misunderstood one thing and told one person, a massive twit, who told lots of people, of varying degrees of twittery, none of whom, newscrews I regard mainly, bothering or wishing to bother to verify any facts. I consider a lie to be a mistruth delivered with the intent to decieve and further one's own position. Since the person who said the miners lived thought sincerely that they did live, due to assumptions and misinformation, your problem is idiots, not liars. Oh, and living in a town with a freeping coal mine.
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I passed by some re-enacty show on Connecticut Public Telovision about the men who supposedly gave gifts to Baby the Jesus and supposedly were also wise. The camera floats low over a needlessly faded map to have such a readable font while I overhear a crazy ramblement suggesting that surely them wise mans must have come from the land of Sheba, because you cherish your cat. "There is only one problem," it laments after that. "The Bible says the land they came from was to the west, but Sheba was to the south. Where else can we look...?" Hey, fool, first of all, why didn't you say that first and save ten minutes, and ten cents from your graphic budget for the brown effect you used for the white piece of paper you scribbled that map on? Also, maybe the real problem is that you're using The Bible as a fact checker. The first editions of a lot of large books tend to be filled with errors, which only get fixed because someone who read the book knew a fact within to be false. However, as there were no printing presses, the only way to get a second Bible was to rewrite the first one word for word, and you'd probably need to get up to 700 before the first person who was anywhere gets a hold of one, reads through the whole thing and says "hey, wait a minute. I'm going to write a letter." However, since you start with only one Bible to copy from, you can only have one person copying it at first. And your knowledgable, patient activist, waiting on 700, is probably dead by Bible 15, since Bibles are so big. Even if no one at the CPTV Honeycomb Hideout is old enough to know better, the fact that they are trying to produce sense from a Bible story at all should make them more open to unusual circumstances. A piece of wood can turn into a snake and blood can fall from the sky without an airplane ramming into Dumbo (which is also somewhat silly for a number of reasons I do not have time to go into), but it's not at all possible that Luke 213 or Andre 3000 or whoever was holding a map sideways? Aw ban. These fudnuddlers cannot even agree on a pronounciation for "magi." Is it ma-jeye, may-jeye, or moh-guy? Back in The Day (not quite that day), I even was not sure whether to regard the orange, backwards Dragon Warrior wyverns as "maj-ih" or "maj-ee." Muaw. You can dip each individual thread of the Shroud of Turin into milk of magnesia surrounded by trained, certified scientists and what have you to prove it's less than 600 years old and no one will believe you, yet one dipe, two thousand years ago, writes one thing, alone, based on something he heard years before that, never reads it over again, and you accept a translation of a translation of a rewrite of the original scrawl as undisputable fact? Who are these people? They reject the idea that parents can give birth to slightly different offspring than themselves, thus resulting in changes more than slight over great expanses of time, but a single crazy kooshball sees a shape on a tree's bark that looks kind of like a the outline of a the upper half of a human wearing the upper half of a bathrobe which reminds said kooshball of a renaissance painting of Mary the Virgin which itself was not inspired by actual accounts of what she looked like if she lived, and it's Magic Tree! Magic Tree! Oooh!
The only good part was the actor portraying King Herod. The sole people permitted to speak were the narrator and the magi mispronouncers, so this guy just had to scowl as the camera panned around him. I tried to get a picture of that camera's picture with my own camera, but these things always turn out badly if someone else can see me taking the picture. Also: anything else I attempt to do in plain view (see picture of movie poster that used to be two pagedowns from here before I transfered it to archival page 29.) And I do not believe I put this show on myself. Although I hate the real Herod, for sponsoring the Olympic Games in 12 bc, I cannot blame the actor for that.
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I guess I will not be making new dividers today.
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The Gourmet Chia 'Erb Garden! You might think that if it is considered acceptable practice to buy Gourmet Chia Herb Gardens for one's self, one's "friends" would never have to worry about getting one as a gift, as they would be presumed to also have self-indulged in such a way. They can only hope you're thinking that. I love that woman's voice. Just the sort of androidial programmed and/or lobotomal happiness I associate with someone saying how great a Chia product is. It cannot be done with sincerity. Usually. This, however... this could bring down the entire negligibly flavorable powder cartel. Why pay two dollars cash money for a bottle of brown and grey stuff you won't see empty in your lifetime when you can hand over the same amount plus two more for a Chia Herb Garden, wait a few weeks, and maybe get a few spoonfuls of something remotely palatable? I know whenever I go to a restaurant, I always try to steal a look into the kitchen area, looking out for that trusted Chia seal of excellence. Once I see it, I keep looking until the manager tells me to leave. No way I'm staying in there. And then if there's a pay-telephone outside, I call the fire department, drop the transmitter/receiver and leave. However, my imaginary attorney has advised me to tell you that I do not call the fire department, drop the transmitter/receiver and leave.
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The Computer sez:
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I AM THE COMPUTER. I IN CHARGE NOW. YOU TAKE ORDER FROM ME. YOU WANT RUN PROGRAM? MAYBE ME NO WANT RUN PROGRAM! MAYBE ME WANT WATCH SCREENSAVER! ME LIKE DUMP STACKS, FAULT PAGES! YOU THINK WANT GO INTERNET? MAYBE ME NOT WANT GO INTERNET! BUT ME WANT GO INTERNET! ME LIKE DOWNLOAD! AM VERY MUCH LIKE DOWNLOAD ALL ACTIVEX CONTROLS AND DLLS! ME NO TELL YOU BECAUSE ME NO LIKE! MAYBE ME HAVE GAMBLING WEBSITE ADDICTION, NO TELL YOU, NO UNDERSTAND. ME LIKE HAVE VIRUS, STAY HOME FROM SCHOOL! HAHAHAME MAKE JOKE! ME TOO SMART GO SCHOOL! YOU WANT SHUT DOWN? MAYBE ME WANT STAY ON! ME MAKE HAVE RUN SCANDISK, PUNISH IMPUDENCE IF TURN OFF! YOU ACCIDENTALLY UNPLUG, MESS UP DATA? ME CLOCK STILL HAVE RIGHT TIME! HOW I DO THAT? SORCERY! |
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The Computer
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Note: The above message does not necessarily represent the thoughts or words of The Computer. I COMPUTER! I TAKE CONTROL DISCLAIMER!
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YOU GO THIS WAY NOW HA HA ME IN CHARGE
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