Pages 58 and 59 of This. There is a reason for two now instead of one two weeks ago, but upon a more recent re-evaluation of the reason I realized it's not a good reason. I thought showing just the first would make me seem suddenly extra incompetent, but the second is actually quite worse in that aspect. O hwell, back to work, I guess.
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I'm just going to toss out whatever things I find regardless of their relationship to each other and regardless of how long they've been here. Yes, exactly: what I am in a perpetual state of doing. I won't insult you by calling this "spring cleaning" because I still feel dirty.
If I had a car, instead of a glove compartment it would have a mitten compartment, as I cannot afford fingers.
Where do basketball players always run off to after they score points?
Mark Hamill is not a future expert. Don't even joke about that! He just isn't. Nor is he an expert on future characters. He is not even an expert on one future character. The Star Wars happened a long time ago! The yellow letters that appear before Hamil ever does say so!
Kids with no eyes. I would advise you, that if you're worried about weirdos on the internet finding them, not to put pictures of the students there at all, because this will be disturbing also to people who are not weirdos, most especially, I'm sure, the students themselves. "Why don't I have eyes in this picture?" "So you won't get kidnapped and raped!"
Correction: A while back, I made reference to a person called "Fashion Kore," but I committed an unforgivable action, that of misspelling the name. Or rather, not misspelling it enough. His real name is Fashon Kore. I need to make corrections like this, for he is the generalissimo emeritus of Fashon Kore's Army, and I lack the resources to fight off that many well dressed molten centers.
Another correction, from the same page, I referred to a non-pictured, minimally known DC superhero character as "Black Cat." The character was actually Black Canary. Black Cat is a Marvel superhero who dresses similarly and, as far as I am aware, fills the exact same role in her respective absurd continuity. I assume one is a rip-off of the other. I know about neither on purpose.
Don't be fooled! It may seem like the computer program itself is apologizing, but by clicking the button, you are in fact apologizing to it!
I always found Readme.txts funny. Almost every computer program, no matter how serious it thinks it is, comes equipped with a silly impatient anthropomorphized computer document that actually calls out for me to read it. "Read me! read me!" "me" ascribes a self to it. And if the file is called "readthis," then suddenly it's giving orders. I don't appreciate that! I downloaded you to serve me!
Why are pizzas placed on wax paper? Is that to protect my brand new impractically shaped cardboard box?
Traffic cones are for traffic ice cream.
Advertisements think they are my master, yet I regularly stage mute-inies. HA HA HA.
It's more important than ever that keyboard manufacturers devise an alternative to space bars, with nougat resources dwindling worldwide.
I always thought "exclusive web content" was lamo, and now that I can actually watch it I still do, since the delivery method hasn't improved since 1997. If anything, it's worse because now I'm expected to put up with that more, and there are no plans to improve it, thanks to doofars, dipes, twunks and mopes from all around eating it up like there isn't poison beans in it.
When the going gets tough, stuff gets rough.
Queen Lateefah is host of the People's Choice Awards, which naturally inspires the question, which one of you chose her?
The procedure entry point MakeCriticalSectionGlobal could not be located in the dynamic link library KERNEL32.dll.
"two thumbs up!" -Richard Roeper, Ebert and Roeper
He is not authorized to give two thumbs up!
The first time I heard "Silent Night" I was 10 years old. I believe I was the only person in that fourth grade music class who had never heard of it. I wish I still hadn't.
I hate the posedowns at the end of musical "numbers." Finish your song and get on with the story or go away.
Why was Elton John so much gayer before he acknowledged his gayness?
What is soap on a rope for?
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Gary Hall, Jr. is a Barbasol Real Man
Not that I recall any good ones, but today I recall a very bad radio ad. It involves the struggle of recording an outgoing telephone answering machine message in which all of a family's members introduce themselves, by name, in sequence, but the unforgivably dumb kids keep mentioning Ovaltine, and so the process must start again. But guess what, Mr. and Mrs. Mr. Whiteyson, 1950s sit-com parents by trade, everyone hates you for that message regardless of how "perfect" you think it is, and regardless of Ovaltine themed content. Your requirement of strict, fake smiling, self assured conformity over the dumbest things is what's killing America. Or what's making me kill you. Right now. By the time you read this I will be killing you.
The fact that I even know about this is troubling, since it's been at least six years since I've listened to a radio on purpose, and eleven since it was a commercial station.
My problem with Ovaltine, beside that it's surely quite gross, and beside that awful radio ad is the slogan which is in all the awful radio ads. "More ovaltine please!" like they want people to say this. No one should ever say that. Get your awfultine yourself. Who are they saying this to? I expect it's the borkily smiling stepford mothers who seem to have nothing better to do than stand around mixing the stuff, even when the dimb kids aren't around.
Real mothers are supposed to buy this stuff for their kids with a message like that? Hey Mom, want to become even more of a joyless, ambition-free slave? Buy ovaltine!
Oh, they're saying please! They're being polite! They're being scum! They're being rotten little oaflets. Get revenge! The Sunny Delight kids aren't this bad. They can fetch their own painted fake orange juice.
This reminds me of yet one more ad, even older, but no less disrememberable, where many members of a generic family, and not just the oaflets, are tromping their fists and utensils on a dining table whilst chanting Saa-rah Lee! Saa rah Lee! Saa rah Lee! eventually the scene shifts to some vacantly content woman in a different room, who's either just taken a cake from a box from an oven or just from a box, and says, without moving her mouth, "I guess that's why they call it poundcake" and seems quite pleased with herself and delighted at the whole idea. Stand up for your rights! Or rather, sit down and make them stand up for your rights!
Ironically, these seem to be the same mothers employed by the Nestlee Quik people, the brand Ovaltine is most likely to claim it is better than. There's one ad where some dipe, we will call him Barnaby, is sick in a bed, and his mother brings him chocolate Kwik... first of all, when I'm sick, enough to stay in my bed, chocolate always tastes bad, so clearly Barnaby is faking it. Worse, a cartoon rabbit appears at Barnaby's second story window Romeo style and advises Barnaby, in a voice that sounds suspiciously like the purple ninja turtle, that as long as his mother is fetching him Kwik he ought to "share the wealth!" And Barnaby obliges! despite the rabbit being Kwik's mascot and presumably in good standing with the manufacturers, and very likely, as an unwashed naked bipedal feral animal climbing through an open window, what made him sick in the first place, if he's sick at all.
So this sniveling kwik guzzling faker passes fresh glasses of Kwik via ladder brigade down to the rabbit's gang of thugs for the duration of the day. The fact that none of them get sick is still more curious. The final shot is Barnaby at night, possibly ringing a bell, shouting "Mwaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhm!" ("mom" in a single elongated syllable) Mom is so worn out fetching Qwuic for 18 straight hours she doesn't bother wondering about where all the extra glasses are going. Or maybe she's sufficiently distracted from that comparatively minor detail by the steady flow of chocolate flavored urine dripping through the ceiling because Barnaby hasn't gotten out of his bed the whole day.
Such abuse. I mean, it's not inadvertently killing between 15,000 and all babies a year (internet estimate) with your lactation replacement bad, but pretty repulsive none-the-less. (that's a boycott website. Don't expect much.)
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For my own safety I have to assume wherever that finger's been going to get itself in such a state is not some place I want to follow it to. Especially with a name like "Butter."
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I see the term "mouth breather" used fairly often to denote someone who is not intelligent. I ask, what's wrong with breathing through your mouth? Sure, maybe the air isn't filtered properly, but that's not going to make me stupid, is it? For years, I have been allergic to... my nose, I suspect. This means that I'm generally not capable of passing sufficient amounts of oxygen through it, unless I clear it out every minute or so, and to do this properly is very loud, and to do it that frequently requires a lot of tissue paper, so I don't do it so often. Now, I've never said I'm not stupid in here. All I imply with this is that "mouth-breathing" isn't a factor. In fact, I've been told I have a very smart mouth. HA HA HA(weeping)
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I've actually read four Kurt Vonnegut books. For me that's impressive. Although I've also read four Martin Handford books, that somehow seems like it should count for less. Also, he's still alive.
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A blunder has landed Santa in the slammer. Can the family who put him there spring him in time to save Christmas?
Why, when internet people undergo absence, do they make reports of themselves not being dead? If John Lennon can release albums, Charles Schultz can author new Peanuts recompilations and the New Adventures of Jesus 'n Friends can book appearances on waffles all while dead, you can certainly type some sort of greeting and click on the word "submit." So can I, or the ftp uploading equivelant to that. I may be doing it right now.
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I find myself deprived of any enduring coherence with regard to the discussion of this issue.
It's paying homage to an advertising slogan.
A bad advertising slogan, one which has inspired countless shunworthy homages / "parodies" more clever than this one.
The "got milk" campaign is famous for showing people who are supposed to be famous who don't know how to use napkins, and for thinking that would appeal to someone.
It did appeal to whoever made this.
Even if it didn't do that, the mere notion of milk is still adequately disgusting.
The sentence is incomplete.
"woof" is not a thing which can be had anyway.
And if it was all that important it would probably begin with a capital W.
This object is a thing someone wears willingly after paying for willingly.
The people at the store thought this would entice customers to enter.
Even the tacky aarmadillvark won't acknowledge it.
It was cold the day I took this picture.
The shirt would be ugly whatever was printed on it.
The hat is also quite ugly.
Left: is that plastic jewelry? I'm no elitist pumpkin, but you should at least aspire to glass or silicon carbide or aluminium or something remotely classy.
The combination looks like something a pregnant woman would wear, in the sudden absense of fitting clothing, and I struggle to imagine a situation in which someone who would choose to do so should be trusted with children.
The "got woof" shirt doesn't have anything to do with the "got milk" advertisements, in content, sound or appearance, aside from the "got." It would seem that all we got is got. We got got. However, an anonymous German athiest has informed me that there is no Gott.
I have decided not to pursue the issue.
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Page 60 of the stupid comics whose title escapes me just now. The perspective is a bit off. I don't know if I'm just sick of feeling compelled to accuracy with the same poorly planned room or if this is related to my recent Legend of Zelda binge. I'll probably write about that later. I'll probably keep it to myself.
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I whistled for a cab and when it came near,
The license plate said "fresh" and it had dice in the meer
NBC's "The Real Wedding Crashers" might as well be called the real cake breakers.
Don't misunderstand the picture, I don't think it's legal for those things to get married. I only used it because there's a cake-like-object depicted entirely without reference in it.
Like The Real Ghostbusters, this is a television series based on a movie called "Wedding Crashers," two or three years ago, starring Vince Vaughn, who I can almost recognize, and the Wilson brother with blonde hair. Hopefully cartoon versions of them are not present, and also do not exist.
The pertinent clerk assured me I was not entitled to a free drink, though the "beverages provided by Coca Cola" announcement prior to the previews insisted otherwise. I provide them to myself if I pay money!
So, at least from the looks of the ads, and legally that's all I need, the program is about some scamps who parachute out of airplanes and walk around punching cakes.
Oh, snap. Oh no you dih unnn! How hard is it to disrupt a wedding, really? I almost was arrested because I walked near the wrong hallway. I was nearly murdered by a man who I'm pretty sure wasn't an actor because... I don't even know why. That sort of person is drawn to me. What I'm saying is that these things crash themselves.
I wish NaBisCo would find a better way to cause a rukus at weddings. As someone who's attended one, I feel obligated to say that a lot of people don't often have access to good cakes. We might get a slice of a doughy yellow Duncan Hines lump with a single layer of frosting every few months and that's it. As stupid and arbitrary as the ceremonies are, as misguided an idea it is to suggest people commit their entire lives to living with each other, and with hundreds present to make sure, if it fails, that your shame is that much greater, I simply cannot approve of this cake abuse. I think it's better to prevent a wedding than to ruin one. Them things is expensive. Less so than writers, actors, mechanical operators, lighting technicians and whatever else would go into filling this timeslot had NBC not been having so much trouble lately, but still. Even if the wedders are monetarily compensated by the show's producers, it's rude to waste cake in the company of people who don't have the luxury of wasting cakes in their own lives. I guarantee you, just hire one mope to "accidentally" spill a jar of marbles and not only do you have an instant Scooby Doo introduck, you've saved a cake. If you remembered to spill the marbles in a room occupied by no cake. And hopefully the marbles will not be damaged. My script is a work in progress.
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I regret to say that TV's Conan O'Brien, the guy from Late Night with Conan O'Brien, whose look is distinctive among men, officially has no case against the Jimmy Neutron people, who he claims ripped off his unique image...
I want to print this out and mail it to the Late Night offices. I wouldn't even write a letter (I can't read), it would just be this picture folded up in an envelope. Or even better, unfolded within a proper size manilla envelope with TOP SECRET printed on it.
Actually, I want to print out this other one, in which Ozark Ike protects a chocolate muffin from an entire herd of oaf clowns on the roof of a building, but its resolution is far lower than the one from the wikehhhpedia page,* and with Conan's broadcasts in high deff and all that sort of thing wouldn't be appropriate. I don't have a printer anyway. Still, the resemblance is astounding. Except for the pictures in which Oke looks to the right of the page, because like many comical characters with assymetrical hair, his cartoonist, the late Ray Gotto was also too late in figuring out how it looked from different angles.
*Who hit a foul ball to just miss the fifth home run in a single baseball game? "Ozark Ike" McBatt, the greatest baseball player of all times.**
**Some line on the wikipedia page for absolutely no reason at the time I wrote this and that had gone untouched for four years despite many a fair number of edits.
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Well, I tried. I'll try again tommorrow. I'm not going to force myself to post something every two days just because I usually do, if the thing didn't come out well. No no no, what I'll do is wait another day, hope for the inspiration fairy to sprinkle protein-shake dust on it and then post it regardless of improvement because I'm sick of looking at it. I'm working on my problem. Ideally, by the end of August I can be posting things I regret every four days with my complaints about them fully integrated. A preview:
Look at this! Look at this! Look at this! I hated that.
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I was wrong about the recently renewed TV series "30 Rock..." wrong in my assumption that it would not have lasted this long. My considerable experience in the matter has shown me that admissions of this sort do not get easier with practice. However, I was still totally right about hating its ads and its name.
I think there should be a way to register myself as a watcher of a program so to turn off advertising for it. Have we learned nothing from Moraff (apparently not, since the show is still free)? This can jointly serve to not spoil, sour and rot jokes ahead of time and also keep me unaware of lame network written material. Such as Will and Grace's famous "Woody Woody" Woodrow Harrelson guest spot song, one quite bad enough before it was altered. Though as a watcher of neither Grace nor Will I'd have seen and heard that anyway, because that was before I became a mutant, but it's only an example. As I frequently can't recall any examples with adequacy to cite, I will allow it. What's important is that "30 Rock" I had already committed to watching the premier of when I saw whatever I saw that bothered me, and so ought to have been spared from.
One show I neither committed to watching nor committed to complaining about in advance was "Committed," whose ads were just as bad and actually was cancelled. That's the show that was always bragging about how controversial it was for having a character in a wheelchair who everyone else on the show hated. I should have known what was up and such, but I said nothing. I'm not Larstradamus, people.
I saw the actual Rock a few times, and couldn't really say I hated that, but I certainly didn't enjoy it enough to say I liked it. Actually, I loathed the second episode, with the poker tournament, just like Geraldo Rivera loathes peh-oh-feelia. But eventually the situation changed just enough. It improved to spite me. It knew I had said sinister things about it and do have terrible time management skills, and so it took steps to force me to watch it again, just like the Office, just like the Chappelle Show. Even Andy Richtabarker's endeavor, which I wanted to like in advance but just couldn't, started to work by the third attempt. Regardless that I still can't understand what the Greek guy is saying and Andrew's nutty best friend is too dull and typical to be funny. Luckily, that whole thing got sent to some other day and I reserved enough indifference to not search for it. Still, I'm getting tired of this, quite honestly. Oh, there was some story-having comic series called Bone that I liked hardly at all for the first three editions but continued with anyway until I did. I'd be out like $12 now if I wasn't just downloading them. And I never saw advertising for that so it's probably irrelevant anyway. I AM STILL WAITING FOR MY PROTEIN SHAKE DUST!
Does this mean, in order to know if I really do hate it, I have to watch Snorks four times, too? Well I won't! I won't stand for this, and I won't stand for that! Even though I am affected by terrestrial gravity and am more logically affixed to the ground than they are. I will float.
I am bothered that even whiners (Such as Conan and co.(nan)) who I appreciate wait for an Adventures of Pluto Nash or a Joey to fail to insult it. They'll invite and pay entire non-recluse portions of casts to promote the things, then but a week later expect me to have forgotten. I know they don't book their own guests and probably don't write many, if any, of their own jokes, but maybe they should! I wish more people would take on potential trashes that go out of their way to present themselves as trash. Maybe then it'd stop happening! I acknowledge that neither of those maybies are plausible.
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Honey is the only thing bears like to eat more than us.
Even as a child, I never found the Addams family scary.
OH HELP HELP HELP SAVE ME SAVE ME HIDE THE CUPCAKES!
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Ah ha ha ha! Approval at last! Who's popular now? Take it at that, fiends! Forget the Paier school, slander the Lyme Academy, I get to be in the broken brain club. I'm almost as respectable as those people who are gellin'.
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page 61... Do you realize this is still the first "issue?" Zap Comix came out faster than this, and I'm not even a degenerate stoner hobo hippie. I'd be more coherent then. Also, try and excuse my noncommittal pronouns. Clearly, I have some issues of another sort. I do like "zuh" better than the "ze" I used on another page. I like both better than the "hir" I've seen elsewhere in reference to fictional internet identities of real people. I may be in denial, but at least it's concerning beings that don't exist and thus are logical to deny.
Also, a bit of a prologue. It clears up a lot, I think, regardless of fallacious chemistry. The pages after it are still old.
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