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January 2007, whore.
Where is that football field with the perpetual thunderstorm I see on tv ads all the time, trying to prove how tough the players are? They should really think about building a roof on that place. Someone could get pneumonia or at the very least quite a bit wet. I have been wet before. It is no picnic. Regardless of how many cans of Campbell's Chunky™ brand soup have been prepared by fat women backstage.
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I do not appreciate Panic! At the Disco. It is quite bad enough when we have things like Jeopardy! but this one not only splits your sentence, it begins your next sentence, a sentence that most reasonable people don't have experience concluding. I demand more control! Ehhh, their songs? If I've heard one, I don't remember it. I suspect that is for the best.
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This is serious, so give me a quarter. I was a witness, get me a reporter
More old news. It used to be new, but since I half-vowed to not post any more youtube complaints last year that year, and since my rambling rarely exceeds that much of its potential, I decided to wait until this year. True, sites like newgrounds and atomicfilms or whatevers have hosted tragic trends in digital dopery for years, but those rarely made themselves my problem.
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Danny Devito was drunk.
Oh, was he? |
Interesting that, according to Category, if Devitor was drunk, this is entertaining, but if we aren't quite sure of the intoxication, it's considerably funnier.
Oh gee, oh gosh! Six years into a presidency widely recognized and recently widely acknowledged as among the worst ever, Danny DeVito slammed Bush! That's worth posting five thousand times, sure.
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BUSH BASH!
GOT TALK BOUT BUSH BASH! |
Do you really need three whole portrait potato-head persons on screen at once to debate this? Is it truly possible that enough people had their television sets mysteriously stolen in October 2001, hid in their basements for five years, bought new television sets, only watched The View, and called the National Enquirer (those are the sorts of people who know the number) to make this big news? And Danny DeVito didn't even slambash Bush that badly. He just said "numbnuts." He implied that George Bush's testicloids are not sensitive to physical stimuli, and if Daniel even knows that it reflects just as badly upon himself. It was not a “tirade”. Chutes and ladders. And if you hadn't told me he was drunk I wouldn't have known because he acts like a moron anyway. It may even be argued that this was one of the less moronic Dedevito public appearances because he was too self-conscious* over the Lovely Ladies™ reactions to be as annoyingly smug as he usually is. I hope, if I have to see him again, he's drunk then, too. There'll be no awkward position avoiding from me this time. Drink + DeVito = Slightly better DeVito. Ah ha, yes, I feel my old powers returning.
Indeed, 'tis I!
Internet, I have you in my rasp.
While it is factual that the ensuing Rosie O'Donnell reaction to such reactions got a bigger reaction, I realized recently that I feel a certain indescribable sympathy for people who embarrass themselves in public. Even when they are millionnaires who I can't stand to watch do things on television. And that's why during the next step in all this, when Donald Trump became involved, for reasons, I'm told, entirely unrelated to Danny Devito, I had a hard time choosing a side. Both are annoying, overpaid, fat whores who frequently get away with saying unforgivably stupid things on shows I'd never watch. I suppose it's not surprising, then, that I heard three isolated unfunny "makeup sex" jokes within days of each other. Trump seems to ultimately win a greater share of my scorn for that "Barbara [Walters] called me and said she doesn't like Rosie, either" business
and also threatening a lawsuit in addition to the childish insults. You can't have both! Trumpy, you can do stupid things! This is similar to why I continue to have minimal condolence for the men suing Michael Richards. You (whichever it was, I thought it was just one, but allegedly there were two) got to call twenty years of his life a farce to his face. You can't cut much deeper than that. (however, they're definitely entitled to more than Trump is. And I have to bring this up because no one from youtube knew the word "tirade" before it happened). While it's true plenty of people have successfully sued over less, I tend to think the concept of "damages," as it is most often cited, is a sack of expired croutons anyway. Also, what's the point of making people publically, awkwardly apologize if it makes no difference in what the public they're apologizing to thinks of them? They may as well not apologize.
Really? Oh, then, well, please accept my... no, better yet don't.
Actually, since the last time I mentioned this, I have laughed at plenty of jokes at the expense of Richards, Michael, just none of them were from the internet. Keep in mind, I wasn't particularly enthralled with "Dick Cheney shot a guy IN THE FACE, ha ha ha," and I thought he was a creepadoogal before that.
*conscious, I hate that word! I can never remember how to spell it! That is bad!
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I saw "Children of Men" recently. Since it appears to be highly rated I feel compelled to say something negative about it. First of all, although I am most likely to enjoy a movie I know no plot aspects in advance, I was a bit disappointed to figure out a few minutes into it that this was not a sequel to the seminal 1994 classic "Junior."
So.
This film is set in 2027, and almost all the clues about what occurred in the previous 20 years and what sorts of things are different that I should know about to understand what people are doing, are delivered as seemingly inconsequential set decorations. That means if a viewer were to, you know, concentrate on listening to what the characters were saying, rather than attempting to read tiny, distant, upside-down newspapers being used to obscure glass windows –windows that seem like they have a reason to be obscured, and so their being obscured is not unusual, and therefore it is assumedly not worth noticing what's covering them– that person would be quite confused and never fully understand what's going on. This could be even worse if despite the listening, such a person still struggled and often failed to comprehend the heavy British accents and missed further sentences when trying to mentally reconstruct what has previously been said, even though that viewer has had one authentically British parent that other people can't understand its whole life. Oh, and also, that viewer is me.
I don't know why I continuously awkward up my own storyish things trying to make sure my point is as clear as possible when the makers of similar things who interest me don't bother. Eh? What's that? Because my stories still don't make sense? Hmmm yes, then that is probably why.
It was nice to see that, possibly in the despair caused by the human fertility crisis, businesses apparently gave up trying to transform all personal identification measures into annoying little cards. "Our species is going extinct, so pickles and onions to those bloody biscuits and cheese! And screw the trees, too." There is a scene where someone needs to get special documents to prove he and the person he's travelling with are British citizens, and later he gets his hand stamped with an actual rubber stamp. Earlier he goes to a dog race betting place and everyone in the audience waves little pieces of paper at a man walking around carrying a pen and a big notebook. Those are the things I notice. Drat, I'm boring again.
I really wish you would stop that.
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Page 55, of this. I sometimes think "you make these so slowly, by the time you get another chance to use this idea or that one, if you live that long, you'll have forgotten about them." And then a bit later "oh, this idea is better, but now there's no room because of that lousy one you crammed, like so much graham, in there against my wishes." I assume this was one of those times. Otherwise, why should I have mentioned it?
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Saturday, January 13, 2007 |
A nest of Platypus eggs begin hatching. One breaks mostly free of its shell, and rolls down the nest struggling to catch an insect. It is Ducky.
The complete guide to prize winning. This isn't like those other guides to prize winning, that end with you buying a scratch off card, or worse, start with you getting a wheelbarrow full of gold cocoons. Important things happen between those two points. This has the full story. How to enter contests, and how to receive money. You don't want to go to grab your giant prop check and give yourself a papercut, for example. The Complete Guide to Prize Winning also tells of the best places to order baby shower-toned money binding tape from. Sure, you can't use the money nor deposit it with a bank while it's wrapped like that, but it's much easier to stuff into briefcases this way, trust me. The book even includes detailed hand workout instructions to maximize the tightness with which you clench pairs of 20 dollar bills. You want to feel your nails digging into your flesh. No pain, no gain, after all. That's what the little type in the "official sweepstakes rules" section says. The people will come and take their money back if you can't prove you've hurt yourself.
Or, in the event you've won an enormous egg, that will be taken back. It's quite complicated, but the book explains; hence the need for such a book. You may still have a chance at shell fragments following a successful hatching. As we learned not long ago, quite a bit can go wrong. There's good reason not to trust you.
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I have wondered whether those comics I'm always going on about would be better if I left the room and had twelve-year-olds write in new dialogue before I uploaded them.
It could be worse. It has been worse.
What's sad is that I'll probably end up using that "poke in nose" line in the "real" comic eventually. No no, what's sad is that even when pretending to be someone else I can't bring myself to type mild profanities. I naturally invite anyone else to infuse this with the dose of phallic references it requires. I probably shouldn't have uploaded a jpeg, then, but I think we both know, realistically, that if I made a serious attempt at inviting reader submissions and actually got one I'd either hate it a lot or be shamed at how much better it was than what I've been doing. If I got nothing it would be worse. At any rate that sort of talk leads to serious ego issues, and I already have a subscription. Oh ha. I set up a bimshwel.com forum system, just because I could, months ago, but I hope I never have to use it.
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I wish I had a summer house. I could get a lot of money selling it.
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My proudest moment.
Hurts so good.
Yes, judging from the abrupt end of... that following my input, I apparently brought a giant foam rubber manatee to climax.
However, such effectiveness does not come without experimentation...
I'm almost certain someone else on the internet somewhere has summarized what this is and how it happened. I will if it comes to that. I hope it does not come to that.
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No one wants to take boots to the beach.
I love that ad where the women (that's KD Lang in the picture) find wrappers for "nutripals" all over the place and smile like crackwhores because they're imagining all the artificial, syringe coddled nutrition their kids are getting from eating what appear to be little more than regular chocolate chip granola bars with extra chocolate and marshmallows. And there are a lot of wrappers.
 Some of them are even in bottles, for you lardos who aren't coordinated enough to master chewing. I hesitate to say "on the go," though I doubt these things are especially digestible, because their discarded cocoons are found entirely in domestic settings. On the floor, under the couch, in the car (prove it went anywhere besides Wal Mart to buy those things)... You know, if my mother saw that much junk lying around in an otherwise clean house, she wouldn't be smiling and staring off into crackspace. Even if they were little plastic salad boxes instead of the packaging to roided-up Snickers and Yoohoo. I bet this is the same mother who sees her larvae playing the latest "2 plus 2 equals what? manipulate this brightly colored animated doohickey to find a four lest I never shut up" games and insists the kids are not playing, but "increasing the size of their brains." Guess what: your kids are still going to be stupid and fat. In fact, I have a suspicion they will be even stupider and fatter than whatever human garbage you thought you were rescuing your kids from the fate of becoming by buying copout solutions like those.
I understand that it's harder to sustain a family with a single paycheck winner in this country than it has been in a century (and you can be sure those kids were staying lean down the mine, in addition to providing a second income source), and that you have less time to look after and personally guide the children that you probably had by accident before you had time to figure out how you'd support one or six. However, this stuff isn't working, so stop buying it. It doesn't help that all the kids' favorite characters are willing accomplices in this. I know Liono or The Guardian Legend wouldn't have gone along with chicanery of such sorts. They had integrity. (Garfield and Rainbrow Brite would have, which is why I didn't mention them) They were also better drawn than Sponge Robert and Dorer the Explorer. Even in the days when entire multi-season cartoon series were habitually built around pre-existing lines of toys, we never knew such corporate synergy. The chances are, in 2007, if you see a new character you like in one place, it's also in some other place doing something you'd be justified to hate it for. The real difficulty is finding likable new characters. I ought to know; I can rarely stand to see my own outside a state of mutilation.
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I get it. Fat women are horrible to be in the company of and are oblivious to all things around them, all the more so when they are actually a skinny-to-mildly-portly male comedian wearing a fat suit and a wig. Hasn't this movie/tv show/sketch been made before? Hasn't Eddie Murphy made this movie before? Don't these people realize that every time a fat oblivious man woman production is made Queen Latifah is contractually entitled to film a rebuttal of equal length in which everyone has to like her? And why is this called Norbit? Obviously it's about the fat lady that Norbit hates yet refuses to admit this to. Who is even named Norbit? I've heard of Norbert and Nordberg, but Norbit sounds annoyingly impotent, like when I first learned there's no G at the end of "orangutan." I must be missing something. Even though I've seen the preview twice. I suppose this is better than I'm Middle Aged and I've Got Kids Now and We Need More Movies You Can Take the Family to 3, but I think it could be betterer than that. Note that combining them and adding a half-gallon of awkwardness to get Mrs. Doubtfire does not accomplish such a thing. It does, however, give me an excuse to complain about the 1992 movie Aladdin. That I need an excuse for. Not because it's almost 15 years past relevance, just because I don't like admitting I've seen it. I reckon the year will be 2019 before I admit to having seen the first Pokemon movie, Pokémon, the first Movie.
I don't understand Disney Alladin, Aladdin, Alladdin, or its morals. It brings great disgrace to the original Popeye cartoon it is based on. Apparently being borne a prince through no skill of your own is good, but venturing fearlessly through a cave that you've already noted is actually a giant functioning tiger head and using a magical object you were nearly killed getting to to become a prince is bad. Even though the genie is a near godlike being with immeasurable skills, when it makes Aladdin prince he still isn't "really" a prince. So using the genie's power to escape your otherwise inescapable poverty, because that's the only way your society's oppressive values allow it to function, equates to phoniness, but flying around on an enchanted bathmat that you just kind of found doesn't. Mr. Addin only gets to make three requests of the genie, and that's greed, but keeping the carpet he stole (despite being told to touch nothing but the lamp) and using it as many times as he wants isn't. If I had a flying rug, at all, let alone one that could get me from Iran to Egypt in thirty seconds and not kill me at the speed and even fly around to catch me if I fell off, would I need a genie? I submit to you that I would not. By the way, don't insult my intelligence; everyone knows The Sphynx really lost its nose when Obelix slipped while climbing it.
Hey, why is The Genie allowed to void the wish limit rules to escape from the wondrous cave, but not to set itself free from the lamp contract? If there's a force more powerful than The Genie which decides how many wishes each person may receive granted, why didn't that force make an emergency call to the anachronistic telephone The Genie no doubt has to order a wish be deducted? Oh, another problem, and this was kind of what I was getting at when I mentioned Missus Dowtfier: Robin Williams is a ho.
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I could not let January end without drawing attention to a masterpiece of artistic expression, the culminative product of a long period of contemplation and soul-searching, carried out by a wildlife photographer friend of mine, the ever enigmatic Analagous Sunrise (which is not, by the way, a euphemism for constipation).
the travesty and turmoils of my travels pay off when I bask my eyes on such a sight..i kid you not...whatever happens in vegas, stays in diapers ;)
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I assume this goes without saying, but yet it must be said, here, by me. "Epic Movie" appears, entirely by its own doing, nearly as miserable as Norbit (which doesn't premeire until February, in a noted contradiction to these parentheses former contents). It's supposed to be mocking "epic" movies (I have reason to presume), yet every ad for it shows either a cameo by fake Borat, fake Paris Hilton, or both. Taffy, they're in the ad poster. Those are the sort of joke, if they even count as that, which do not work a second time because as distinctly out of place in the preview, you know they're coming. I also know that the person who falls on Paris is coming, since that's in the ad, as well. It's like when the bits for the Jay and Silent Bob movie showed the scene with the Scooby Doo characters in it, and then show them smokin' dank trees, yall. Those gags are supposed to take you by surprise, because they don't fit the theme. Except this, here, today (Wednesday), is worse, because now in addition to being rendered totally unfunny they also pointlessly timestamp the movie, and not even with contents that are particularly creative to have included. The writers just have their computer do a wordcount on a transcript from a Jay Leno monologue and gary up scenes for whatever distinctive nouns are highest on the list. I bet there's a tainted spinach joke, too. Some things just work better when they're for free. "Date Movie" had a fake Napoleon Dynamite segment, and I definitely remember about this time last year when "Scary Movie" 4 kept showing a scene with Dr. Phil McGruff and Shaquille O'Neil. You might as well print an expiration date on these things. I understand that those two humans have both been doing their respective professions (whatever Phil's is) for a number of years, and yes, I'd rather see them than Donny Bonnyduce and Danny Osmond again, or William Hung and Crazy Frog, but shut up. What the gump have those two got to do with making fun of scary movies, anyhow? I think it was really them, too, so any jokes had at their expense won't be as good as they could have been. All it proves is that the bootlegs who set these events into motion have so much money to throw around, they're so annoyingly complacent that they've become far worse than any tired repetition they claim to be sick of. Also included was a Brokeback Mountain scene. Ehhh, that was actually The Clip when one of the actors was a guest on some show I wished I wasn't watching, possibly more than one, and it was not a good clip! Excuse me, are you promoting Scary Movie 4 or the opening montage to an award show? Someone needs to make Movie Movie. Someone else. Someone who doesn't feel it's important to keep Carmen Electra from hurrying up and getting homeless. You know you have a trash garbage script when Marlon and Shawn Wayans pass on it. To make Little Man. A movie that also has a myspace page instead of a real website.
I remember I saw the initial Frightening Film, and it kind of made sense, because it pretty much followed the plot of Scream. All things of that nature after it looked like such rage-inducing mixmoxes of random topical tomfoolery that I did not dare risk money on them. There's no way Magneto, the Carribean pirate guy, Wilford Wonka (natually, it's 2005 Willy Wonka, because nothing before this decade ever happened.) and Borat make sense in the same movie. It's just "ha ha, isn't that weird? And now, over here, isn't that crazy?" Apparently that's still not enough, I'm just too stupid, so they have a list displayed onscreen of movie franchises that are supposedly taken to task. Hey, isn't that Super-Man? Yes, thank you, it is! I wasn't sure. Oh look, he got hit by the slow bullet and he fell off the roof, but not onto Paris Hilton. Scabbard, it names its genre in the title, though I question how many of its victims truly count as "epic." It was so intent on identifying itself with other recent annoying spooftahs that it didn't even check to make sure its title was valid. Seriously, Nacho Libre?! A movie that's [I assume and hope] supposed to be stupid, and doesn't even journey outside sets depicting Mexico? That was the best candidate you could find? What about Dune? What about Willow? What about The Cell? (I don't get out often) Hey, King Kong was from last year, your favorite year, and you could even have used your same guy-who-looks-like-Jack Black. Oh! Oh! Oh! It's magicmakes me so mad!
They won't mention Star Wars either. Not because that's been parodied to death, cloned 50000 times and done again for each, but only because they're surely saving that gold for "Scigh Figh Movie." Nothing has officially been announced, but it can't help but happen. Prove me wrong, wench. Please.
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no help topic associated with this item
More keyboard issues:
Now the key doesn't work. Well, you couldn't see what key it was because it doesn't work. I refer to the key between 3 and 5. That one doesn't work. Watch this. 12356789. Is something missing? That is correct, is missing. I mean four is missing. I can make it appear by pressing numlock and then 4, like that, but jiminy jinkles I shouldn't have to. And I have numlock off by default because I think the regular arrow keys are impractical and awkward. This means I can't select the chaingun in Doom anymore! (unless I edit a configuration file and reassign that function to something nearby such as 'R,' which I did, but you ought to know better than to expect that level of self-help initiative from someone on the internet)
 There's even an extra space above these arrows just to mock me. This says "look at that, we COULD arrange them properly, but we won't, just because traditionally we haven't. And now your 4 key doesn't work. Ha ha, you." And why no diagonal? I first started using the second arrow keys because it was the only way to turn left and right in Eye of the Beholder, and I never looked back. Unless I stepped into one of those invisible teleporter squares which made my party face the other way. This is why you have a compass!
What makes me extra angry is that some game programs will have preset player 2 settings mapped out, with E as up, S as left, F as right, and D as down. Why's that? I guess people think "well, D is for down anyway!" Well guess what, buddy:
No, they do it because that imitates the position, relative to the other directions, of the normal arrow keys. These rinslids think, even though there's no reason for it to be that way, since the first arrow keys are like that, all arrow keys must be like that. Worse still, are devices that accept the primary arrow keys for action, but not the secondary, intuitive arrow keys. This is still an improvement over ye olde MacIntoshe arrow layout, 
but considering dos/windows computers never had layouts like that (ehhh, none of mine), I don't owe anyone credit. Regardless, of that, I think after fifteen years I no longer need to congratulate you on transitioning from diapers to Pull-Ups.
No no, you're totally missing the point. Rather than fixing an old problem, you created a new one, by repositioning keys that had less (but still a bit) logical reason to be arranged a specific way, and so entirely for the sake of familiarity ought to have been left alone. And see! One of the Windows logo keys has been evicted. While it is true I generally use the left one, and only in collaboration with the E key, I'm certain if the right one suddenly wasn't there I'd realize I was trying to press it several times a day.
You act like you're saving space, but lo! The object is much bigger than before because you added all that useless void at the front. And even if you hadn't, I've never heard anyone say "gosh, my life would be complete if only my keyboard were one inch less wide! Alas." Also, this is beside the point, but I had one of those "multimedia keyboards" for a few years and I never used those special fancy buttons because they were largely non-reconfiguarble, and I had no business with their programmed actions. The only one I needed was volume control, which didn't even work in DOS mode, where all my games were (this was before Microsoft decided to mangle its audio capabilities), or in Windows if something was hogging resources, something which, on a surprising number of occasions happened to be emitting a very loud noise. Luckily, it wasn't until the next computer that I was treated with a power button which did not immediately shut the system off when re-pressed.
In the interest of the entirely uninteresting, I must inform you that the first paragraph refers to Octoberish 2005, and I do possess a functioning primary 4 key at this time. All other relevant rage is still at large. Very large. Large rage. See also: wretched wretches trying to contradict me. Sensible behaviour gets but a passing, almost dismissive mention. Down below left and right instead of between?! Oh, honestly ("oh honestly" because it's one of the few exclamations I can think of to conclude this with that I don't have a big stupid non-sequitur picture associated with).
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Why should I be aiming at this person's nose? And, in the event the website-like-object this ad links to is telling the truth about its prize, what is to stop non-flingers from drawing dollar signs on their own bars of hotel soap? Further, how is the cash value determined with no numbers? All we know is the currency in use.
Would I even want a secret gift card to a place that sells what appear to be large slimy green rubber bands?
As for the big scandal this was inspired by, no, I haven't seen the pictures, thank you. I like the idea, yea, it's fine to wear clothing that wouldn't register on one of those scales you weigh grapes with at a supermarket, as long as you keep a select several inches of your body covered. Sure, tromp through the pumpkin patch in dresses that wouldn't feed a moth larva, but for Wendel's sake wear a transparent doily piece of string across your vajuju. Here, we'll even fling one at your nose. I thought the whole point of giving bonus existence points to ladies who dress like whores but do not receive monetary compensation for non-contractual fornication (unless they film it) was because you liked them to show as much of their nakedness as possible while still making a laughable show of pretending that's not the point. Isn't this what you wanted?! I'll have none of your "ha ha, yes, cleavage, by all means, do lean forward, eh bouncy bouncy... HEY! No nips, man!" attitude. You people are full of WOW! brand soybeans. Oh, and who's the mulchmunch waiting outside cars, aiming cameras at the baby gap? That's acceptable behavior? See me after class.
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It appears, again, without my consent, that Epic Movie does include a scene inspired by a non-recent film, Scarface,
but it looks more like a homage, at best, and a non-scolding ripoff at worst. Someone with influence really needs to step forward and call Scarface out on its being so miserable and it having an influence so counter to what any sensible person can see is its true meaning: this guy is a jerk who is not to be imitated. Many oafs forget that the awf-referenced "say hello to my lulllfrog" scene only occurs after an estimated six hours of Tony Mantini being a total aynod to everyone. He's always either getting revenge or doing something that would make someone else desire revenge against him, and not in a way which could be considered comical upon repeated veiwings. I realize that even a nutrageous fool can distinguish fantasy from reality, and will grant them their right to idolize the likes of Darth Vader, Dr. Octopus, Skeletor and Gargamel. But there is no pesky hero-squad that ultimately takes down Mr. Scarface, just (as I remember it) a few unknown gunmen, apparently just as scumdiddlyumptious as he was, who I believe also got shot. The whole movie is about one man, who doesn't seem to have many, if any, redeeming qualities. He got served what he deserved.
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Elmo Chair sez:
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Gather round, visitors, and listen to my story. What? What has happened? I cannot move my arms! My arms? Where are they? I have no arms! Legs? I can feel them, gah! I can feel them melting, merging, GRAAHHH! Good heavens, I'm losing my form! My very biological structure is breaking down! I am de-evolving at an unfathomable rate! My face... NYEERRRGH! My head is flattening and becoming indistinct from the rest of my indistinct self! I am degenerating into a formless mass! Help me, someone, anyone! Oh, how cruel a fate! Why did I cut in front of that Gypsy woman in the line at Krispy Kreme? Oh, how I laughed at her curse then! It seems so trivial now... if I could only take it back... Yet I can no longer make more than the slightest movement! This is the end! I can do naught but wait here in the growing darkness and pray for death! Sweet thirst and starvation! End this life which should not continue! Ah, ha ha ha ha ha! O wondrous, benevolent mortality, how I do so admire your work! My few remaining non-congealed, functioning muscles jiggle with anticipation! Hee hee hee hee! EEEH HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE! Ha ha ha! Ha ha hahhhh...
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Elmo Giggle and Shake Chair |
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Note: The above message does not necessarily reflect the thoughts or words of Elmo Chair. They are presumed unintelligible so late into the disease. |
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