June 2006, ho.
Not incredibly long ago, because I was whining about beer so much, my anonymous informant Zartan informed me of a website run by the budweiser people, the responsibility brigade themselves, to show their responsibility to responsibility, at beerresponsible.com. You might, and should, wonder "why that?!" Why not "responsiblebeer" or "beerandresponsibility?" Why not anything at all remotely grammatical? Hey, why not the actual phrase they use in the ads which I'm so fond of, "drinkresponibly.com?" You might think beerresponsible is a weird sounding name, until you actually hear how it sounds. Go on, say "beer responsible," or merely imagine it being said.
I understand how a newspaper gets shipped with a weird headline; pages and pages with no errors and suddenly one minor thing is missed once whoever is checking remembers what a boring job that is and stops paying attention. However, the beerrespsonsible domain was registered, forms were filled out, graphics were made, copyright messages were typed, so a lot of committee members saw letters spelling that up (if not voices speaking it) before any civilians did. And in a way, I suppose I understand that all, too. This fits with their general message so well, I'm shocked they don't show the web address along with the guys on the ship dropping the refrigerator through the lifeboats (we wouldn't want our beer to get warm and dry in this icy Pacific deluge, would we).
I'm glad you had that picture here to tell me so. However, Steve Urkel has advised me to point out that family does, as well.
I'm told this url is printed on beer trucks.
If we can imagine it's possible to ignore the barely subliminal message in the title as well as the barely subliminal message to fiddle with wireless internet (which I guess is "normal" now. ha ha ha...) while driving, we can imagine the website is for two possibly not entirely hypothetical groups of people.
There would be those too dumb to know what the word "responsible" means, but smart enough to turn on a computer, connect to the internet, remember that url, and spell it properly. "It has 'beer' in the name, it must be great!" This group will leave immediately once it discerns what the text is about.
The other group knows what responsibility is, but doesn't know how to be responsible, but wants to! "Sheinwald, I don't know how to be responsible, I'd better go to this website. Whazzat? Drinking 85 consecutive glasses of beer impairs my judgement? I had no idea! This explains why I'm always waking up in shopping carts, dressed like Richard Simmons! I wonder if this is like that 'alcoholic' stuff I always used to hear about on tv before I ate mine?"
In short, the website is for no one. The Bud people resented having to make it and gave it a joke name undermining its stated purpose entirely out of spite. I might have done the same thing in that situation, but I'd never get in that situation, because I'm only a creep on the outside.
Beerresponsible.com is as much part of the original plan as GI Joe safety tips or Sailor Moon Says. The difference is that cartoons are targeting children and beer wants to convince the relevant adults that it's not (in stylish, easy to read bitmapped text).
Showing their commitment to the empty effort way of doing things, BR makes you prove your age by clicking a yes or no button. Had it just said "if you are not of legal drinking age we suggest you find some other way to spend your time" I wouldn't have taken issue [as much], but it tries to trick people! It just thinks everyone is dumb, and that's what I hate. Generally, they are dumb, but not that dumb. I can imagine some kid now, as imagined by beerresponsible.com. So I shall.
Should it bother me so much that The Cartoon Network owns exclusive broadcasting rights to a sizable quantity of American cartoons made before 1990 which it will never show?
Wah ha ha! Beer is neato! I'll go to this website I saw painted on the side of a truck that has the word "responsibility" in it. They'll never know I'm not old enough to drink beer, and I'll get to look at secret grown-up pictures of beer or something! Haw? It's asking me if I'm over 21. I can't imagine why it's asking that. I'm not, so I'll click no, because as much as I seek to be deviant by drinking beer before the legal age at which it is permissable for me to do that, I would never lie to an emotionless, non-seeing machine about my age.
Aw naw! I'm not old enough to look at this website either! Drat, darn, gee whiz! Too bad there's no button marked "back" in my web browser and I've also now completely forgotten the web address! Shoot! Dang! Uh, what if it sent secret emergency e-mail to my parents and told them what I did? Baw! ...Haw? Hot dog! I can go to the Anheuser Busch corporate home page! Yeehaw! This is almost as gnarly as thecoolspot.gov! Cor! Struth! Wicked pissah!
Budweiser wants you to drink responsibly like Phillip Morrissey wants you to stop smoking (see also: Tobacco is wacko if you're a teen, but not after that, because we can't be held legally liable then).
They don't want you to drink responsibly, everyone knows they don't, but since the judicial system can't rely on common sense, due to the presence of cheating scoundrels like Anhueser Busch executives at all levels of everything, it's enough if a piece of paper written years ago thinks they do. "Your honor, how can you say we encourage reckless behaviour? All our ads say 'Please drink responsibly' in really tiny letters! We also made a contradictorily named website promoting good behaviour that we mention as infrequently as demanded per the terms of the last lawsuit we lost. The piece of paper says that's enough." This is the same system, remember, that can find people liable for deaths in murder cases with no other suspects, but not guilty of the murders. "We can't prove you killed them, only that someone did and it wasn't anyone else."
How long before every case of beer comes with an end-user agreement on it? This legal lactating could be avoided if beer folk could just say what they are implying with the tiny letters: "Drunks get into fights and kill babies with their cars, so don't get drunk. If you have a drinking problem, get helped, but don't blame us and ruin it for everyone that doesn't kill babies while oversaturated." They won't say that because they think that will hurt their sales. They think that will hurt their sales because they think we're stupid and don't actually know what beer does, even though that's the only reason anyone buys it: to be irresponsible. Not dangerously irresponsible, but the less responsible persons become the less they realize how irresponsible they are and thus might as well have another drink.
They want to do things they would otherwise feel bad about doing. Following that, they may drink to disremember having done those things. If they drank alchoholic beverages strictly for taste, everyone would order those drinks with the little umbrellas in them.
This... is the face of responsible drinking. A congenial group of middle-to-upper class F·r·i·e·n·d·s-style friends at a primarily food-serving restaurant during daylight hours, with apparently one bottle of beer between them. These aren't the people who need that website (they may, however, require several beatings). Likewise, seeing them on its front page doesn't convince me of the effectiveness of the methods on the people who actually, you know, need help. However, what are the chances a heavy-set, grizzled, 43-year-old roadkill collector drinking to forget his problems can afford the legal fees necessary to pursue a multi-billion dollar corporation in court? . . . . . . The chances are minimal, you dufe! My point is not that everyone should have the ability to sue beer companies, just that they have no regard for ones who can't.
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This is the picture I ended that last article-thing with, regarding a mediocre video game based on some French language comics of indeterminate mediocrity. Left is from one of amazon.corn's cover pictures, which purports to have been downloaded by me at the date of July nineteenth, two-thousand five. Right is from dupuis.corn's (the publisher's website) slightly higher resolution version of the same picture, which I found approximately one yesterday ago. ...and then that was replaced by yet another which I found later.
 
It is clear from this comparison that in the left picture, not only does a different finger appear to be extended, it is in a slightly less contemplative angle. The reason why I thought a product marketed by marketers toward children would have had such a rude gesture so visible was that I was quite certain they had different ways of expressing silent scorn in Europe. What I thought a solitary middle finger might have meant is not known at this time. So I thought, further, usage of this picture out of context is potentially humorous, but only if that's actually what the artist intended for it to be. My recent discovery suggests that is not the case.
Having such a misunderstanding might be understandable, if not for one additional aspect of my usage: Not wanting to use such a heavily pixelated image, nor to use a non-pixelated image of such small size, I doubled its pixel count and manually traced over the lines as I thought they were, thereby unkowingly altering the original intended hand-pose. Also, I did it really badly, because my monitor, as I have pointed out in the past, is noticably dimmer than it ought to be, and also seems to blur things just a slight bit, so what appears a minimally flawed job to me is obvious and hacky on an adequate screen. Und so anyone to whom it is clear I modified the image, either having seen the original or not assuming it is permissable for cartoon squirrels with fingers to behave thusly in Belgium, would think I intentionally made such an alteration and therefore am really no more creative or less scummy than any of the kids I went to highschool with playing Mad-Libs after they had watched Beavis and Butthead do America.
Don't ask why I was at dupuis.com, because the answer will disappoint you.
And while you may protest "I didn't bother to read that "article," as you call it, pretensious cornchip, so you making such a scene looks stupid and I'm never coming here again." Well, I think that is a bit-
"And if I had read it, it's not like I read all your frogtastic gay parii comics too, so I wouldn't have even known, but now that I do I think you're a thorough asstard and I am never coming here again."
That is perhaps true, and one person saying that perhaps comprises a generous percentage of my "audience." Ehhh, in the past, I've lamented about not large numbers of people coming along. And that didn't work to make them do so, because they weren't coming by to see it. So now I'll talk like there are a lot of people, many of which did finish that page, and some of whom have even seen the disputed image in physical form, and would have thought I was making a bad attempt at a juvenile joke instead of whatever else that might have been, and so I dedicate this message to them, the imagined masses, rather than you, the imagined individual of the green font.
With all of those things having been typed, I still must take into account that Spip is, after all, a scoundrel, and can only conclude that the Spip in the left picture is indeed flipping me, and therefore us, off, and then pretending not to have done so in the right picture. Despite my time today wasted, that much is good because now I don't have to bother making a new ending to the page I put that on.
As further evidence of the unpleasant character of that character, I present you with this recently uncovered photograph showing Spip smoking a cigarette and flinging the lit match so it ignites some highly flammable yellow grass, all while smiling. How can we reason with someone like that?
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greetings go to everybody who have survived the heat & the beat of the world.
I do not approve.
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When I was at quite a low age, long enough ago that the arcade games worth spending quarters on had neither been imported to my location nor thrown away to make room for Street Fighter 2 ripoffs, I played pinball occasionally. I was not very good, but you don't really have to be to get a large figured score, since point values are so absurdly inflated. Just launching the ball can get you 2,875,400. Since back then they liked me, other family members might watch and compliment my nonskills, occasionally referring to me as a "pinball wizard." I thought that was kind of odd, then, since no one ever called me wizard regarding other things I thought I did well, like drawing terrible comics
or combining numbers which never seemed to add up to more than 99 at school. When I finally realized why I was called wizard specifically at pinball: another The Who song!, it made me mad, because of how unoriginal people were to only use unusual compliments they'd heard in songs, and also because I thought the song was awful. I can imagine them imagining the song as I was imagining I was actually good at pinball. It makes me mad. I'm tired of that song getting a Queen Latifah pass on everything. I'm here today to say I won't put up with that anymore! I'm never playing pinball while wearing my blue, pointy hat again!
It's just like when advertising for some stupid movie that shouldn't have been made plays a terrible edit of "Walking on Sunshine" just because some displayed character is in a good mood (and by the way, that person will be miserable and having to learn a lesson and ruining the movie long before the end). Find a new way of conveying an idea! If you really walked on sunshine, real sunshine, you'd be vapourized before you even had time to melt, let alone sing a song about your little jaunt. Don't it feel good? Indeed it do not! Katrina and the Waves were ruining lives long before their recognition last year by the National Weather Service!
Pinball is a stupid thing to be a wizard of anyway. If you had the choice of control over fire, control over large, predatory birds, or control over knowing which exact moment you need to press one of two buttons in an irrelevant game of minimal skill, and you chose the last one, then you're probably not only dumb, but deaf and blind, also. At least be a Pachinko wizard. Then you might stand to get some money out of it. And that's the only way you're going to win money gambling: sorcery!
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It would seem that Cars was not the number one movie. But the person who said it was was just trying to make me mad, and was not concerned with facts so long as I did not know they were facts! I only hope this not-number-oneness was because it did not sell as many tickets as it thought it was destined to rather than because it has not debuted yet. The movie which was the number one might as well have been that. It only matters that a thing I'd never watch for free gets to and does, frequently, brag about the money it got from other people. Another annoying aspect: It is only from that bragging that I make this correction! So stop bragging!
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Why do prescription medication ads always tell me to see their ads in magazines? Haven't I suffered enough? How about "see our ad on your television right now." Viagra insists that I "see..." and already I don't want to see anything mentioned in the context of Viagra "...[its] ad in Golf Magazine." First of all, no, and second, that's Golf Magazine, which answers the question: what could possibly be more boring than watching golf? That would be, to the surprise of all in attendance, reading about golf. It can't even make an artificial claim at excitement, with a striking, grabbing name like "Golf Monthly" or "Golf Digest." One time I walked past a television someone was watching/sleeping through golf with, and I heard a near comatose himself invisible television voice-man say "fasten your seatbelts, we're in for a fast and furious ride." Luckily, my near bored-to-death state cancelled out and kept me from dying laughing.
I suppose the point is that print media has different censorship laws (except for comics, which require approval from the Comic Code Authority), where one may throw around whatever one thinks lends itself to tossing. But considering that they can already say "erection which lasts more than four hours" on television, I'm not sure I can handle the special unrated version, let alone between scenes of senior citizens clutching rods and whacking away on so many white balls. What is this ad, just a reworded, enlarged page from a Tijuana Bible? Whatever could be more FCC-finable than that leering goon in the television spots?
Speaking, if we must be, of magazines, I would rather get a full nude body massage from Hitler* than be voted best anything by Maxim subscribers. And I hate being nude.
*Adolf Hitler.
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Here is page-numeral-which-escapes-me-just-now of that.
I'd like to see someone else do what I do.
Not that I think no one could, merely that it probably looks very strange. I suppose it might be nice to have an unbiased view of the product itself, without having stared at it for the hours spent doing it. Otherwise, I would hate to see these things made by someone else. That would make me miserable. Regardless of how it turned out.
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Thunder cats are on the move. Thunder cats are loose.
I require chocolate chip cookies. STAT.
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I laughed the first time I saw this. And not just because anyone still pays money to cheat when so many independent FACK writers offer the same information for free and with lists of exploitable game glitches an official guide would never let be printed. No, as the first time I saw the picture was elsewhere, in an ad for the game itself, so I was probably laughing at the lighting/posing/potential for death by gravity.
This is like the video game equivelant of Space Jam (if we choose to ignore Looney Tunes B-Ball, which we ought to): Incredibly successful, but a horrible, horrible idea that is evil in so many ways. I might decry something like Super Smash Brothers (and still might, for all I know), but that included all fairly recent, native video game characters, rather than unwelcome syphilitic foreign invaders claiming the land for themselves. What is next? A realtime strategy game starring Bosco and Krazy Kat? Soul Caliber 12 with X-Box exclusive fighter Goopy Geer? (what is a geer, anyway?) That's essentially what these characters are (geers? (No! Shut up!)): relics of a past era with no cultural relevance, or chance for it, as their creators are long dead and probably longer out of direct involvement. Why not let the living make their own characters? (answer to be revealed the next time I complain about the movie Cars) I like Popeye cartoons, and even I acknowledge the last good ones were made in the early 1940s, if even that. I would resent new attempts to remake ye olde Popeye, even more so ones that laughably tried to give him real world emotional depth/a giant key.
On another note entirely, it bothers me that the only non-fanfiction follow-up on Final Fantasy characters shunned by their own sequels is in the minor-supporting-role company of this gang. You could have made the game without them at all, but you went and included them in a way just significant enough to annoy me but not enough to matter (I'm still waiting for any word regarding the status of Final Fantasio).
Hmmm, eh, I hope the reason I couldn't any trace of Sega Saturn games in March at a former Funcoland is because they never were in stock, rather than fed to goats to make room for this:
So here is that throng (th-throng throng throng) again, in better lighting, but not better moods. All the angst in the air, from both the kids pictured and the myspace kids buying the game after seeing the kids in the picture and "identifying" with them would saturate a sponge. Not merely the cleaning implement sponge, but the dork named "Sponge" from that teevee show Salute Your Shorts which my brother Icicle has several times recently tried to convince me was really great.
Although, to be fair, I suppose if I was inescapably trapped in a world of all Disney characters, and sentenced to fight, against things other than them, using only a big key light enough to be wielded with one hand, I'd be miserable too.
Why was this made? Disney, the humanoid, and whatever creative assistants he paid to have erased from history are too dead to get any satisfaction out of this. The kids you're aiming this at have probably never seen the cartoons the characters were in, because those are locked in that awful vault, and the adults who have viewed them would have no interest in this game. There is no overlap here! (the fact that someones still bought enough of copies for it to have a sequel is not my concern at this time) People at that company were lucky enough to get away with what is essentially a black-face minstrel as their most marketed character for 70 years, let alone one nearly identical in design to numerous other Felix ripoffs of the time right after the invention of gray. They should give it a rest already. No one likes Mickeynnie Mouse, including them; they only pretend to because they think we like it. Well, I don't!
I did read a bit of one of those facks I linked to, just to see if the game was really as stupid as I had already claimed it was (it was). I knew I could find out in specific detail, because the people who write facks love nothing better than to bloat their file-size by stating the plot point-by-point, occasionally out of order, for the courtesy of the many ones like me who read facks without playing the games. That must be it, because if I was actually using the game, it would bother me immensely to have my time wasted like that, especially if I was only consulting it on a specific issue rather than attaching myself to it like a suckling piglet. Well, obviously you'll see this happening, but wouldn't you rather read my fifth-person description of it than look at the graphics you paid $300 for? No, of course not, but I'm so infatuated by my own narrative skills that I'll say it regardless of necessity or demand. Anyway, that Horatio you just beat isn't really dead and comes back later and eats Meeplesworth, which you once again either knew already or would have preferred to learn in its intended context. Ha ha @ you for cheating! Spoiler alert!
My pages about video games are a tad longwinded, yes, but I don't claim them to be informative nor do I mass-upload them to any place that will take them. Also, I'm generally describing something horrible that you wouldn't want to deal with firsthand.
But, yes, this one game is very stupid. The "in depth" fack titles alone reveal more than any valid (that being a person who is not an invalid) should ever know about this.
A video game like this really opens the monicagate when it comes to weird, specialized facks. You can see that there are 15 full "faq/walkthroughs" giving mostly the same information, but below those are the works of people slightly less ambitious in their lack of ambition, but still wishing to get their ridiculous unpronouncable names on the page.
Monarchial Blood-pumping Organs are so popular among people with less signifigant life pursuits than me that there is a fack that gamefaqs.com, to its credit, won't permit to be read from that link, which has all the unnecessary descriptions of conversations and intermission scenes, but without any of that pesky game-playing advice. Really, it's in there, after a couple screens of legal threats and contact rules. It's told in folktale form, that being in the past-tense but not detail rich enough to be like a novel. However, I think it could still stand to lose a lot of details.
The room then shattered, and Sora was taken to a rainbow or stained glass
colored room. In front of him was a door, which couldn't be opened. He then
found a treasure chests, opened it and collected a Potion. Then a crate and a
barrel appeared.
Sora smashed them and then the door in front of him opened. He
went through, and then was engulfed in light. He then appeared in the Destiny
Islands, and saw his friends Tidus, Wakka, and Selphie. Tidus and Wakka are
from Final Fantasy X, and Selphie was from Final Fantasy VIII.
And then fluid began flowing out of my ears to indicate my brain had been punctured by the pointed embarrassing absurdity of it all.
It actually reads a lot like and makes about as much sense as the vague recollections of my dreams that I used to type out (most especially lines like "rainbow or stained glass"), just without all the Matthew Lesko cameos. Though considering the cerebral cortex cave-in causing crossover-of-everything zeitgeist, I may just not have read far enough. I may also have mistreated the word "zeitgeist."
The author of that codex claims its purpose is to alleviate confusion over what appears to me as typical Square fare beyond the maximum nerd servicing aspect, but there are almost as many walkthroughs and a comparable amount of "in depths" for its disk size pertaining to Super Mario Brothers, some of which purport to have been updated this year
Yes, THAT Super Mario Brothers. The one in which Luigi has a green moustache.
A game whose goals cannot be more obvious. Mario can't even go to the left. If you can get online and find the gamefaqs website, and THEN find the NES game section, you could probably try pressing the 'A' button beneath one of those floating question marks to see what happens. There are a couple of weird tricks, but they're basic to explain. You could fit the full 41 kilobyte cartridge data five-fold into some of those facks.
It's not even right to call them "FAQs," because those letters abbreviate "Frequently Asked Questions," and I can guarantee you 80% of those questions were not asked one time, let alone many times and frequently. Sapristi, I should write my own FACK for Super Mario Brothers. Hé, I just did.
Huge legal threat section:
This FAQ copyright 2006 Volcabbage/Umilifrimbip/Roneldo/whatever. Some rights reserved, I assume. International Copyright laws protect this FAQ as far as you know. You cannot sell this FAQ for profit of any kind. I'm not forbidding you, I'm simply stating that such a thing is not possible because no one would buy it. You may not reproduce this
FAQ in any way without my written consent. That means I actually have to get out a pen, sheet of paper, envelope and stamp and mail you a letter giving permission, so you'd better not live in Mongolia or something. You also may find that I write you a letter but it does not grant permission. You are, however always allowed
to download this FAQ for personal use (if you delete it within 24 hours). Even if you weren't I couldn't stop you and would have a hard time proving a crime had occurred.
Version History:
6-14-2006 - version 1. Excuse me, version 1.0. I can't let you think I'm rounding off, can I.
Contact:
I order you not to try and contact me at all ever because I think I am some kind of god for writing about a video game. If you do I will ban you in some way or another and hope that you will cry.
Introduction:
Super Mario Brothers is a video game. You must have heard of it or you wouldn't have come here looking for ways to cheat at it.
Actual information unrelated to my conceit:
Press buttons. See what they do. Try again if you make a mistake. It will be obvious when you do. Some places have hidden stuff, I guess. The end.
Credits:
Me
Wherever you found this for not having standards
Pointless legal reiteration:
The only websites which may post this faq are
http://emu-lmao.tripod.com
http://www.beans-around-the-world.com
http://www.doily.org
http://www.angelfire.com/sc/thefalcon
I secretly hope others try to anyway just so I can "update" this faq and swear that it happened.
Everything copyright. I will look up that word someday.
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The last thing I put here is now beneath the thing I put here before it because it makes more sense like that. Although I suppose logically it would make most sense for the very oldest thing on the page to be at the top here (hey, now it is), but then it would be less evident when I had placed something new in the vicinity (however, I'm not placing anything new in this vicinity). Still, there's no reason why I shouldn't go and resort all 34 pages of the quasi-monthly archive like that. Other than that I would really hate doing that. Also it would be confusing because I only mark the date once a week –due to a shortage of retarded non-sequitur "subject" lines– and always start the archive pages with a date mark, so if I switched them around, the page would end with a date instead of starting with one. CAN YOU HANDLE THAT?! This took twenty minutes.
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I say old Chapstick, pip pip jollygood 'allo gub'nah and all that sort of thing, by Joe, good joe, brought to you by them. Of course, cars don't have lips. Or teeth, or eyes, or- great gimpity, am I truly the only person who finds these completely hideous and unendearing? It's like if one of the Transformers, Thomas the Tank Engine and Satan somehow merged their DNA/energon cubes/what-have-you together and made clones. With [a few of] the animal movies [but none of the toy, bug or fish movies], I can convince myself that someone sufficiently brain-damaged might find a way to like looking at them, but these make me ill. They are scary and ugly. What could possibly be worse than this? How will I ever manage to complain about the next 3D frightfest after having seen these? It's just like with recent clothing trends; in many cases it is not possible to wear less while still wearing anything. We have reached the end. The only way to go is back toward that which we have come from. Alas, if these vehiculoids possess rear-view mirrors they are too rear to be viewed! (I swear that makes sense)
Are they biolical beings or did some twisted twaddle-doo build them? I assume that these cohabitate with humans, first because the tires clearly have some company's name printed on them, meaning they did not "grow" in place, and there's no way these things wrote words that small or attached tires on their own. Also they must still be compatible with drivers, due to the presence of windows and side mirrors, and yet the windshields are all covered by bizarre single celled organisms that tried to split and ran out of space. Was there no better way to give them sight? In the past, disturbing anthropomorphed automobiles saw through their headlights. Was not that ideal technology, to have luminance issued forth by the sole part which requires its use? Further, it seems to me it would have been less trouble to develop communication skills through use of their horns or electric sound systems rather than evolving to have mouths. It wasn't enough for just their fuel consumption to be inefficient?!
To be fair (which the production hardly deserves, meaning I'm quite fair enough without being "fair") sans the visuals, strictly scriptwise, it's probably only about as bad as Nacho Libre (yes, that's still an insult), but that's not going to gather 400 million dollars and linger around for months after (and before!) like these things love so much to do. Keep them away from me!
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There is no one on earth who would buy that fool Thneed!
Page 41 of this.
I believe, with an interval of eight days (actually, seven days, 23 hours and 24 minutes) since the previous, this is the fastest I've ever gotten one out. It probably won't happen again. I suffer frequently from constipation. Yessir, eight days of intermittent scribbling and clicking for eight seconds worth of pictures. That is a splendid ratio.
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And look, more weird Disniveling I wrote a long time ago and only found recently. I should dump this on that page labelled "More valid but unfunny Disney criticism." I should also not make up an excuse for not doing so right at this moment so there's less to delete if I do put it there.
I don't hate Disney for an insignificant, trivial reason. I hate it for many insignificant, trivial reasons, whose combined power create one great big Captain Planet of a reason to despise with all the despisal at my disposal. However, I also hate people who protest Disney. Not that it's something which shouldn't be protested, but the people that do always go about it for the wrong reasons, ones that make them look like ignorant doilies.
They're always angry about something trivial like... well, there was the gay problem once, and then on another occasion about whatever time I wrote this (carbon-dating suggests Junulojulyish 2003 but topic-dating suggests 1996), I heard that one group was angry for Pocahontas being portrayed (in the Disney movie of the same name) as not christian. As if to do so might jeopardize Christianity's future by erasing its past. Even if Disney had that power, they'd have to do a lot more to make people forget centuries of murder and persecution than cough up a movie featuring a talking tree. And if they did make anyone forget, wouldn't that be in the Christ fans' favor?
I'm not saying P. Hontas wasn't Christian, and I'm not going to spend a day reading the complete history of the actual events to verify the accuracy of one single statement which is as follows, but when you consider the convert-or-be-killed attitude that for so long was the essence of the religion, it would not be at all surprising to learn she was. I'll bet the tree would join the Jesus jamboree too if that kept a bulldozer away. Just look what the Africa-going missionaries' intervention did for the rainforests.
Those crocodiles obviously weren't paying attention to The Good News.
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I'm usually not one to wager, but I have studied the previous film in close detail, picking up all its hidden messages, and I do declare to you now, long before the release of the sequel or even the official vhs bootlegged edition: Spider-man is Peter Parker! You read it here first. Just call me "Scoop McKlasko." (note: Do not call me "Scoop McKlasko.")
By the way, for anyone who didn't get me chocolate chip cookies two weeks ago, now would be the perfect opportunity to get me some Thin Mints. Fiddlesticks to "they're not being sold yet!" If I can open a drawer in my kitchen and get ice (but I won't because I can fit more drink in the glass without it) in 80 degree fahrenheit weather, you can turn on the cookie machine!
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Attention no one: Page 36 of the stupid comic-type-of-thing was leading to the list of pages rather than page 37, AKA the ugly chalk-looking page, because of a file I forgot to upload back in February. I amended that, hopefully. So if you thought it stopped there, and didn't even bother glancing down the list to see which links were a different color, then you probably didn't want to see any more, so this news won't change anything. That page does not include the dumb lizard (the name I refer to the character by regardless of what it calls itself), which I have discovered, through the few admissions of viewage I've been able to get out of people, is the only remotely likable character.
Not even close!
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Dueh deh dih deh, dueh deh dih deh, TJ Maxx!
I find most advertising schemes absolutely loathesome. However, I regarded the recent m&m "plunder a bag" idea as unique and refreshing (even if it is an obvious plot to cash in on Paul Burchill's burgeoning popularity). Still, I wish someone had explained the concept of "plunder" to Walmart's security force before this display was set up. That was a miserable experience. And I don't even like the peanut kind that much.
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Some pus lump punk just walked nearby outside my bedroom window (at about 3:30 am) and began whistling (dog harrassment style), eventually shout-whispering my sister's name several times. I know it was either one of the spankos who's tried to grope her up or one that didn't bother stopping another because any worth half a banana would have been allowed inside the house at some point and so have a better idea where to make this sort of solicitation but would know better than to attempt it. I shouted back "wah-wah!" like she never does, so naturally rubbish-receptacle Romeo then shout-whispered the name a few more times. When there was no further response, the spork eventually ran away, discreetly enough that I could tell he was running just by listening. There are certain unlikely situations that I imagine solutions for, all of which conveniently elude me to mention just now. And in life, also. I think now that the best thing I could have done was call out in a melodic voice "wrohong winn-doh!" just to make things equally surreal for both of us. When, after alles, has that ever happened outside the ABC friday night line-up? I would love to bring even a fraction of the uncertainty and confusion that surrounds me at all times into the lives of self-assured, future fearless frito banditos like those. Maybe even more than that.
I actually went outside and briefly looked around, not going very far, but I'm not sure why I did anything. Even if I found the fruple (and three did walk past me, not seeming to wish to acknowledge me, though I certainly wasn't hiding), what would I say? "I stopped what I was doing, went down the stairs, equipped my shoes, came outside wearing pajamas, searched for you, and now I'm going back to where I came from. Who's the loser now? Ha ha. I am so going to tell this story on my stupid website!"
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Why would I want to watch a Superman movie? I saw last year how well his dome held up.
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A clarification:
In the previous cheat of an update I expressed familiarity with a visible public figure's "dome." This was of the hemispherical roof sort, and not that which is obtained angrily, possibly in a Dr. Claw like manner, by the Mad Dome Getters.
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Mordecai has damned this audience to hell.
These long whiny entries have become a truly unfortunate habit in 2006. The year is half over and I've made about eight, including this one, compared to two last year. Maybe it just means I'm better organized than I used to be. Additionally, it seems to also mean that I'm a much better writer while unorganized. Oh, oh, must include this. It's redundant or adds nothing, but you never want to mention this subject again so you must include it! I need an editor. It's much easier to delete something after someone else has seen and hated it. Sometimes my own internal shame production does not occur at a fast enough rate and I need a transfusion. Perhaps I am not eating enough fiber.
Speaking of needlessly hoarded rubbish, I've run out of "free" web-space again. I have now abducted my mother's Compuserve name to upload more things I'll never look at again. It is good that I have such solid familial relationships.
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