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The website written entirely by gourmet thugs with inexplicable hand deformities.
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You ought to know how this works by now
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Sunday, February 26, 2006 |
'Woke up this morning, feeling sad; a leaky diaper was what I had.
Bahrg. I hate when I make the junk pieces really long, because then I have to list them at the right, and there's plenty of better, briefer things that aren't specifically named there. Who made that rule?
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No, I'm too tired now. I should have the thing tomorrow. Which means something will happen between then and now that will keep me off the internet and this message with "tomorrow" in it here for five days. Watch for it! I guarantee you I will not spend the time productively.
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How about that. The message in which I predicted the message would remain for five days just to spite me made itself false, just to spite me.
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Is Ru Paul really the best role model for young women? Or any women?
I suppose it could be worse. Next year it will be DOUBTFIRE the GIRL. Or this year, rather. I found that picture months ago. Also: "with T-Boz and Chili" makes it sound like some weird combonation meal at a chain restaraunt, and there are so many combination meals that the menu needed to institute a two-digit alphanumeric labelling system. I imagine T-Boz is their silly trademarked word for chocolate jalapeno balls or peanut butter chicken wings or a beef milkshake or whathaveyouever. I'm more worried about the main feature being called "the girl." I don't have a problem with cannibalism, but wait until they're fully grown to slaughter them, please!
Or maybe I've misunderstood, and, perhaps as a response to other gendereal themed products like po'boys and Hungry Man XXL dinners, this place saw an opportunity to cash in on the less tapped feminine side of arbitrary, non-intuitive food naming.
Welcome to RuDonald's. May I take your order?
Yes, I will have "The Girl."
With T-Boz and Chili?
Yes, that'd be the one.
There are others, maybe, like "The Mother," which comes with broccoli, "The Model," which comes with an empty bag, "The Supermodel," which comes with a glove and an empty bag, and "The Slut," which comes with* penicillin. Then there are variations on the first version, such as "The Girlfriend," which comes with terrible taste in music, The "Indigo Girl," which comes with The Girlfriend (though this one has markedly different taste in music), and the "You Go Girl," which comes with 1992.
Clearly, I've thought about this more than everyone at UPN combined.
*this one could have been much worse.
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If you were a logical person who had never been made to live with a cat (I suspect logical people would generally choose not to), you would think they would eventually figure out what rain is. For years I have witnessed this ritual: the cat whines in the vicinity of an outside-leading door, indicating a desire to go through it. I, preferring to have the cat shut up than try to jump on the keyboard or touch the straw I am drinking through with his nose, decide to open the door. Cat moves toward the open door, and then refuses to proceed further upon meeting the physical presence of the descending water droplets Cat has heard all along – and moreso by the cat than me on account of those stupid looking ears – and that have been associated with the sound for Cat's entire existence. Make a mental connection, Cat! When you hear mysterious tapping all around the perimeter of the giant litterbox I call your home, that means wet stuff you hate is falling from the sky!
However, I definitely prefer the running-away-entirely behaviour to the moving-ten-inches-so-to-be-within-door's-closing-space-and-stopping-again-trick. Cats are scoundrels. Haw? Wha? Oh no, you're so right, cat. This thing you call "cold air" makes your way so much better than looking out a window, while at the same time this thing we mortals know as "not interacting with the perceivable, tangible environment" is far grander an experience than actually going down the steps and letting me return to what I was doing, don't you think so, Cat?
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I recently had a look at NBC to see if Conan O'Brien was back on the air yet. The newest "week" (ehhh, four days, anyway) of shows will be from Finland, where, if Conan has any sense, he will interview controversial Finnish parliament member
 Ludvig "The Tony Halme" Borga. It's not often Conan talks to someone for whom the best picture on the entire google-acknowledged internet is from an action figure package. But no. More Olympic. However, it was a very strange event (assuming you don't consider luge at all strange). I managed to obtain a picture of it, because, not so much I am sure you would not believe me if I explained it, but that I doubt you were watching United States Olympic coverage at 1 am Eastern Standard Time, if at all. Please excuse the video quality; I do not get cable service in here, so the picture is not always agreeable.
Well.
The shows have since appeared, and they were not in Finland. There were things filmed in Finland, just not 45 minute length standard talkshow format type things. I assumed there would be, because prior to the trip Conan was seen to speak to an off-screen person "We're going to Finland, right Jeff? Yes. We're going to Finland!," the last part said at the camera. Usually, when a television person says "we" are going somewhere, by "we" the person means the entire program, but in this case Conan seems to only have meant "me and Jeff." Well.
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Saturday, February 18 (I think; I forgot to put this here until the next Tuesday), 2006 |
I've made raisin toast, and I've only enough margarine for one slice!
Just from sight I wouldnt have guessed this person as a lottery person. My first thought when I saw the picture, "stock market guy." He doesn't need the lottery; he's got it all already. Aristocratic real-estate country club private jet gold toilet whore.
On the assemblage of pages itself,
I think it is time for you to reexamine your life if you get to a point where the only people you want to read about are lottery ticket buyers. Unless you're writing some sort of "society in crisis" research report, I can not think of a good reason for buying this. Even if it is free, taking this seems like a bad idea. There is no strategy for winning a random number drawing other than buying a lot of chances to choose a lot of random numbers. I've seen horoscopes that give "lucky numbers," and I don't know what the horoscope association's official word on them is, but the implication is that they are lucky lottery numbers. If that was true, then all horoscopes on a chosen day would have the exact same numbers, and those numbers would always win, and winners would find themselves receieving cash prizes increasingly closer to equal in value to their lottery tickets (minus tax) as more lottery players figure out the trick and start reading horoscopes.
I am fascinated by the idea that there is enough lotto related written content to fill an entire magazine, let alone different regional editions. I guess a lotto people play the lotto.
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Page 37 of this. The first half looks better (naturally the other took twice as long ), but neither half looks good. I'm still trying to work out a "system." This is not it.
I may re-doeth this page to make it like the other ones. If that happens, it will probably be about the same time as I estimate the non-colored pages will get redone: never.
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Oh, come on. When is Disney ever going to learn...? RAISE THE WOOF. MARCH. IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION OF A THEATRE SHOWING THIS. If not for that text, I would assume this was for some parody movie based on that of the poster beside it. It still might be, but at least now I know it's a terrible, random association parody. I can just imagine, "Memoirs of a Dog." Like a song you'd hear on a local morning radio program. The one I remember was, to honor Thank-Giving, they changed "Get this Party Started" into "Get this Turkey Started." It was about preparing the meat. The single altered title word had no connection to the alteration in meaning or sound, and there were no jokes. It was just someone –who, to her credit (in this context, and detriment all elsewhere), had a voice similar to the person called "Pink," who is generally blamed for the party version– informing me that she was coming out (of her study or drafting room, I assume) and so I really ought to think about beginning the process of this turkey. It mocked neither the pertinent rituals nor the original song or singer. It did not mock even me for putting off starting this turkey for so long. But hey, it filled the same word space!
Later that year, the same crazy funsters changed that weird Madonna song about music making the people come together, so instead Christmas made the people come together. Gotta dew it. Christmas shopping gotta dew it. It was extremely funny in the aspect that now I laugh at how unfunny it was. I want to say it was like an entire episode of Tiny Toon Adventures crammed into three minutes, but it wasn't even trying that hard. There was no attempt to be creative or clever. It was like musical fan art, except the "parodied" songs weren't very musical to begin with. So it was like wow, those eyes are scary.
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For years I would get checks and large[r than one] value dollar bills from various relatives of mine, so they would not feel guilt for hating me (though I would understand either way). I thought, I don't need this money now. I don't want popular music albums or trashy clothing or fancy drugs. Regular drugs are fine with me. I should keep all this money so it adds up to a large figure over time. Maybe I will be able to buy a helicopter some day. I had read about the concept of monetary interest accumulation from a notable tome of financial management,
The Berenstain Bears' Trouble With Money, and thought I'd deposit my dollars in a bank account so the bank would gradually give me more money just for letting it touch my money. So finally just today I went to the bank and heard how much was there. I remembered somewhere between 2 and 1 hundred dollars was the initial deposit, but surely there were later additions I had forgotten about, and of course the interest. Do you know how much was in the account? No, you don't, but I will tell you: $47. The bank person said there had been a service charge for inactivity. Well, you know what doy say. A penny saved is a penny the bank can keep for itself for whatever the elk reason it wants to without saying anything. Of course the bank didn't tell anyone it was going to do that, because then it might not have gotten to do that. The reason why it is allowed to do that is because only singular, non-incorporated persons below a certain tax bracket are subject to laws. Pfizer can stuff radioactive prunes in a bottle, call it Colonoy, kill 200 people and say "oop, my bad," and get fined, maybe, less than whatever it made selling the stuff. Meanwhile, I give one stupid kid a Snickers bar with Enzite inside it and I'm a "poisoner" and have to go to jail. So now I'm not even going to do that (whew, good save).
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Budweiser is the official beer of 2006 Turindo Olympius. I presume this means the players get it free. What would be the point, otherwise?
But as far as I know, bowling is not an Olympic sport (if it is it shouldn't be) so Olympians surely are not allowed to drink beer, or at least not so much beer that giving it to them at no cost is worthy of bragging about. "Best in the world" is not a phrase generally associated with beer in categories other than comparisons between different beers, and not ever with Budweiser. No, beer is the commoners' drink. Zeus and the Gang, they'd never drink beer. So it's just for the fat, mustachioed, credit grabbing coaches. Coaches are scum. American beer drinking scum. Whuh, you go all the way to Europe and have to bring beer with you? Is this because you think there is no beer there, or because you're too much of a coward/confused patriot to try the local specialty? Even if Italian beer is not good, German beer probably is (for beer, anyway), and it would be much cheaper to import from there. This whole thing makes no sense.
Actors can't even eat bacon when they're just trying to LOOK thin (or feel Jewish). Actually having to commit feats of strength, speed and accuracy would further limit one's recreational anti-nourishment choices, I suspect.
There is even a specific type of obesity associated with beer. If being obese does not inhibit one's ability to olymp, then the Olympic committee is prejudiced against fat people, because I never see any doing that. It would be like Kentucky Fried Chicken becoming an official sponsor of a yacht club.
I can understand there being an official pizza for Nascar, because whatever it is which allows those people to drive nascars well is not as dependent on not eating pizzas as, say, figure ice skating. On the other tentacle, I can't imagine multiple pizza companies desperately grasping for that title. I just think someone at Domino's called up someone at Nascars one day and asked "hey, could we be your official pizza?" The response, "Well now, I don't see why not." And by Tuesday the deal was done (the call was on Monday). Similarly, there's no logic behind Olympics having an official beer other than the –I regard as illogical– thinkset that Amelicans are more likely to pay money to get beer that pays money to the Olympics. That's just a good reason to want beer, isn't it.
Budweiser tastes like urine. I know this because I got so drunk off of Budweiser one time I actually drank a cup of urine thinking it was Budweiser and noted the similarity in taste but difference in temperature. However, Budweiser gave the highest bid to get an exclusive Olympic cobranding deal, and I like that, because my brain doesn't function properly on account of me drinking so much beer that I keep cups of urine around. Having the kind of beer that tastes similar and no other should help me cut back.
I've also seen Coca Cola linking itself to olympicry, which is about as logical a connection as the one with Budweiser (Coca Cola was partnered with the official Nascar pizza, meaning it made sense in the past, but I also used moving page backgrounds in the past, didn't I). I admit I don't know much about any science or biology, but I'm pretty sure caffeine (alcohol also) is a diuretic substance or something like that. Not only would kola-based soft drinks not help physical activity, they would actually detract. It certainly isnt big kegs of Pepsi getting dumped on coaches (scoundrels) in all those Gatorade ads. Although I suppose if there is consistently enough liquid left in the keg by the point in which that happens, the contents are not being drunk whatever they are.
But ehhh, I've heard stories of people passing out from not drinking the right things, so it probably is important. Wise meatheads likely bring their own bottles just to make sure there's enough left in the communal unit to dump on someone. On the other tentacle (bringing us to 3, rather than back to 1), given my position on the entertainment factor, if someone kidnapped me and forced me to watch Olympic programming, I would hate it a lot less if participants in the few longer-than-a-minute events intermittently flopped over due to fluid imbalance. Right, so keep up the good work, Coca Cola! Let's get the M&M Mars company involved to replace all the Powerbars with Snickerses.
We've had inappropriate sponsors, but could we get something just a little more random and totally unrelated? Why yes, Kleenex is the official tissue supplier of the you ess Olympic team. Are tissues hard to get? Is there that much demand for them? I know this it is an environment naturally or artificially designed to be of the sort in which people get sick a lot, but sick people generally do not qualify for the medal round. I've certainly never seen a snowboreder lose points due to a sneeze related mishap. I've also never watched snowboreding, but I would have heard if something like that happened. At any rate, I'm sure he/she/it will be really grateful for your complimentary noseblowing apparatus when it break its left leg off and somehow gets impaled on it and forfeits a medal/ever using a toilet unassisted again.
On television, the Kleenex tie-in idea is communicated by someone blocking a hockey (which I guess is Olympic now) goal thing and then walking off with the person who was trying to hit pucks into it. Neither is shown coughing or vomiting or anything like that. Is Kleenex equating tissue use with friendship? "If you don't use our product, people will like you instead!" So they are saying not to buy Kleenex tissues. Well, all right then. I thought that seemed odd. I prefer toilet paper for that function, myself. I like being able to choose my own length. You have your dual-use camera-telephones, video eyepods and choco-tacos, I have toilet paper.
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Friday, February 10, 2006 |
Welcome to Jadd. Davias rules this town. I hate it.
It cannot be stopped! Run for your lives! Seek shelter! Protect Banon at all costs! USB Disk is unstoppable! Save yourself (or write down the password)! Stop drop and roll! Duck and cover! Take cover behind a duck! We assure you that you and your families will be "OK" if you obey these instructions. But whatever you do, do not attempt to unplug USB Disk! We will try to stop it later, and only at that time should an experienced professional try to break the connection!
 You fool! Thy disregard for safety hath doomed us all! May the merciful lord only decree that Windows try to boot into safe mode next time!
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I guess I will leave this here.
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I wish Book of Daniel could have been cancelled because it was terrible (or because advertisers insisted on making it appear terrible) rather than because allegedly influential religion idiots complained to the network more frequently than people watched it or it appeared on television two times (which was once). Although that's preferable to having crazed Vaticans violently invade the U.S. embassy, in search of the NBC off switch, I guess, I suppose.
Yes, so, I have heard about the mega militianary Muslamists being mad about some guy telling them about a political cartoon from Denmark, and deciding to condemn all of Denmark for that forever. The excuse I heard was first that it was a drawing of a Mohammed (the first one that all the other Muhammads are named after), and he's not supposed to be represented in visual media, let alone in the presence of explosive devices that did not exist while he lived. Especially not on his turban (the second –closer to valid, but still not quite– excuse). Jesus, in his religion, has a more direct relationship with God than Mawhummod, and doesn't get half that reaction when people draw him raping goats or eating babies other things of that sort (and you can be sure NBC would keep a show like that on the air if it made good ratings).
I don't know if it's good that people can have such devotion, or absurd that it gets broken down over this. "How dare you imply my people are lawless terrorists! I'll blow up your building for that!" A problem with my rating this issue is that I have not seen the cartoon myself (nor have, I suspect, most of the people angry about it (although some might claim it is in adherence with the law that says not to draw The Prophet that the pious choose not to view such things (in which case, good for them))). All I know, and we are coming to my main point, is that Amelican comedy writers can't resist referencing Marmaduke for their jokes on the subject. I've seen four separate television shows all take such a route, and from that I have learned the most: They hate Marmaduke, and I watch too much television. Meanwhile, they seem to watch not enough. I suppose it's possible that Marmaduke is the funniest-sounding title with that level of familiarity among studio audiences. Of the four other jokes, two were about The Lockhorns and two regarded Family Circus, and those would not have done nearly as well as Marmarduke in a series of hypothetical situations in which each was the first joke I encountered.
Ehhh, though, speaking of one of them, here is a fact that I consider interesting: If you have a television show, you can draw one of those fat headed kids running along a perforated line carrying a machine gun and then sell some advertising when you're done, but if I post a regular, non-defamatory Family Circus image or even something I made myself that resembles one (or another copyrighted character) here and receive no payment whatsoever for anything, the King Features Syndicate usurping regent can send a letter to tripod.com's three-legged emperor and have [that 20 megabytes of] this website deleted without notifying me at all or requesting proof that it is a legal necessity to obey such a command. That event won't occur, because people who don't hate me can't even find this place, but I think the factuality or possibility of it is interesting. That didn't quite happen there, but the "whenever we feel like it for any reason" clause is in Tripod's terms of service, whereas it might not be in a .edu's.
On the first topic, I'm not sure if these (some way down the page) include the original dastardly danish pictures or are all reactions to what happened later, but a few of them are definitely pictures of the original cartoonist, and he looks like a doof, so I don't like him either.
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Maybe the "Welcome to Texas" sign facing the Mexican side of the shared border should be changed to say "NOT Welcome to Texas." That would stop that end of the drug trades. Neither place strikes me as particularly welcoming anyway.
Ah, now I remember what I came here to say. I saw an advertisement for America OnLine today. AOL? How about AOLM N O?
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The Compuserve Action News brigade has really dug up a scandal this time. Apparently Walmart's colonialist way of doing things and government letting it get away with that is kind of worrisome. What is, I wonder, the other side of Walmart's business? Just kind of homely?
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Saturday, February 04, 2006 |
Alas, Draco! You're outta here!
I could convince people I die ed ten years ago. Maybe that is what all this has been leading to. Not a fulfilling, entertaining yet informative website on which I unload some of the digital dawdlery I've come up with over the years, but a life as an enigmatic embezzler, impossible to confirm the mere existence of. There are no photographs of me for years, and no one untrustworthy that you'd know to ask can recall being with me for most of that. I don't think I have dental records from this century. All these months of typing have surely worn away at my finger-prints. What is my name? Oh, really? Can you prove that? Lars? I'm a successful criminal already; I've gotten away with downloading roms since 1998. Can swindling life insurance companies for $billions be far off? And if I did that, would it be any more of a crime than selling life insurance is?
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NBC Olympic again: you know, with the skater eluding the fireball and all of that, there was a fancy skiier, also.
Skiing is boring normally, in the wild, but Olympicly it just goes around flags. Forget rocks and trees which vary slightly in appearance, we found something less exciting and more predictably placed! Whoa. Meanwhile, the skiier in the advertisement is dodging lightning bolts. Could we at least shape the flag poles like lightning bolts? Even cartoon lighhtning bolts? Maybe with arrow points at the ends? I know Zeus, the master Olympian, would appreciate that. Other than flag escape, the most interesting thing the real skiiers do is go down a slope, up into the air, spin around, and stop. The whole thing lasts less than ten seconds. And then you wait 40 seconds for the next one. I don't see the point at competing to be [allegedly] best in the world at something that helps no one and is totally boring to see get done if you're not doing it (and maybe even then). You might as well make L'Empereur or The McLaughlin Group an Olympic event.
I hate Winter Olympic clothing. Everyone has to wear speed racer suits. Maybe those are made of highly efficient water resistant materials which preserve heat with great prowess, but maybe they aren't. Whatever the case, they look stupid. Those people should have to wear fancy ermine overcoats and earmuffs. Then not only will I know they are warm, I will know they are fashionable, too. I hate Summer Olympic clothing more. The original Grecians wore nudeness. I'm not saying I think modern competitors should be naked, I realize times were different back then. Participants in skeet shooting, tractor pulling or other competitions which incorporate technology not possessed by the old greecers are therefore exempt from my decision on the issue. The rest of them, though, must nake themselves. If you think you don't want to watch grimy unclothed people running around, passing batons and such, then good. Not wanting to watch is often the first step toward not watching.
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ARGH! It is back! It was here, then it left, but it returned!
An television advertisement, what I seem to live for, selling yogurt, but there is a song playing throughout the whole thing, as people have come to accept and not question, with words totally unrelated to the product, and it's also one of the worst songs ever made, as people have also come to accept and not question.
She wore an itsy, bitsy, teenee, weinie, miniscule, diminutive, so-small-as-to-be-quite-rather-hard-to-see swimmer's minimal nipple and vulva covering for use whilst swimming...
Gosh wow, that song's awful. Really, it's up there with What's New, Puthycat in terms of awfulness and awfulness of people who like it. You have this creep, this weirdo, who just watches people go into water and do whatever they do, and that's bad enough, but then he has to tell me about it. Hey, I'm not interested, pal (pal not sincere). What i especially hate is that for over forty years no one's ever called this guy on being such a creep. People just let this song exist like there's nothing wrong with it. It probably wouldn't bother me so much if guy didn't go into the disturbing detail as to the size of the swimmer's garment. He couldn't just say it was uncommonly small? No, he gets some kind of gross enjoyment out of the explanation/confession.
I suppose if there are ones who will willingly wear things like that and then appear in public, worthless man-men are entitled to acknowledge its existence and not stop acknowledging it, but they shouldn't make it my problem. The problem of me, who chooses not to appear in public. What I find especially disturbing is that this isn't the first time voyeur's done this. Creep adds on to the previous near-quotation, through atrocious, redundant, run-on grammar, "...that she wore for the first time today." Creep keeps a record of these things, I guess. And the grammar isn't even sensical. She wore the thing that she wore. Redundancy (also note my redundancy in pointing out the redundancy). And what is "she?" The subject has not been defined! Is this a mystery story? Isn't it mystery enough why the song-maker is not in jail? All I know about she is what she wore that she wore, and also that "now she's afraid to get out of the water..." Sure, who wouldn't be with gorks like you around, just watching and taking notes? That's this guy's whole life. That, and telling people about it.
 He has about as much reason to live as that "If you like Peena Colladas...!" nerd. Great work, you know how to drink fancy alchohol, go to the hop, prey on fearful (superheroes, even!) females and sing about your lack of accomplishment in a langiduly voice to mediocre repetetive music.
I am still working on the definition for "lingaduly." However, I mean to assure you that it describes people whose voices sound like that.
Now that I think of it, the guy who sings about going to the hop doesn't even ever actually do that. He just expresses a willingness to do so. Let's go to the hop (if you feel like it)
Let's go to the hop (if you're not busy)
Let's go to the hop (if it's open)
Let's go to the hop (what is a hop, anyway? Is that like a hopathon?)
Come on, let's go to the hop (please?)
Let's go (no? okay.)!
Now there's a song with substance. -abuse as inspiration. Oooh, got 'em!
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Big Momma's House sez:
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Good afternoon, I am Big Momma's House. How do you do? Better than me, I'm sure. When the executives from 20th Century Fox first approached me about doing a movie, I thought "well, it's about time," so of course I signed all their forms and whatnots. Alas, I did not read the fine print or request my attorney to do so. Woe, I am but a house. What they did not tell me was that not only was the movie with MY NAME –that being Big Momma's House– in the title not about me, it wasn't about Big Momma either! It's about some screwy detective who dresses up (rather unconvincingly, I might add) as Big Momma and violates my sacred corridors. I asked them: How does this film raise Big Momma and/or House awareness? It was not even filmed inside me! Those monsters built mock depictions of their structurist assumptions of what my rooms look like. They said it was so they would have space to provide adequate lighting and cameras without knocking a wall down, but I know it was only to keep me out of the creative process. Worse still, these depictions themselves were contained within utterly non-house-like film studios! Sacrilege! You have been misled, citizens! Those rooms and that house do not exist! Do not believe the lies! Only toward the very end of the insult when Big Momma herself returns and proclaims "Not in Big Momma's House!" and violently rejects an offender (though sadly not the screwy detective) is dignity momentarily restored to the representation of my hallowed halls. The producers assured me that my complaints would be addressed in the sequel, so of course I gave my consent. I suggested it be titled Big Momma's House: I Want to Tell You, the True Story, Of What Really Happened, Starring the Real Big Momma's House but they ultimately convinced me to go with Big Momma's House 2. I can compromise. Alas, 'twas more of the same. In addition to not being filmed inside me, it is inside a fake version of another house! Disgrace upon disgrace! How many more must suffer the emotional distress and defamation? And Big Momma herself is excluded entirely! All aspects of the title are lies, including the 2, for its validity depends on that of what it is claiming to be the second of! How dare you, Martin Lawrence, so disrespectfully flaunt my noble name and frame. And how dare you, America, allow such abuses to go unpunished. Maybe not in Big Momma's House, but apparently anything goes on the outside. |
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Big Momma's House, star of stage and screen
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Note: The above message does not necessarily represent the thoughts or words of Big Momma's House.
The person responsible for that error has been forced to watch Big Momma's House 2.
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This has gone on for too long. This will continue for too longer.
Leave me alone.
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