I am not fond of 2003. I will admit I at least think this website is better than it was a year ago, but not half-way through last year. My favorite page was the one about Widget --possibly due to an e-mail I received in response to it which for the moment I seem to have misplaced-- and everything after that was kind of boring and went on for too long.
In other areas, I have not made much more progress. Both of my brothers, one older and another not older, were at parties last night. This means that at some point during my life, I forgot to do the thing which gets one invited to parties.
I wanted to be invited to a party. I wouldn't go; I couldn't have been more than 11 years old the last time I went to a thing accurately called "party," and that was only because of school rules (SCHOOL RULES!) prohibiting the exclusion of single persons (shunning an entire gendereal portion of the class was perfectly acceptable, however). At these parties I'd give to a person I knew absolutely nothing about a gift my mother purchased, and then I'd eat cake if it didn't look too vanilla-ish. Most of these outings were at a local bowling place which provided free hotdogs to children's birthday parties. If they weren't free, I hope they were at least discounted, because I wouldn't eat them. And then we'd... bowl. I can't remember ever liking to do that, either. You roll a large ball and then it knocks over abstract objects or it doesn't, someone will keep score so that the impression is given that skill is involved. You'd also have to wear stupid looking shoes for a reason that I to this day don't accept as truth. Those parties were terrible, but I did always get a bag of candy afterwards. "Adult" parties don't seem like any more or less fun, but I doubt they give out bags of candy. Their bags probably have empty beer cans or condoms or terrible music albums or tax forms in them. I'm not interested. Still, it would be nice to know, for once, that I stayed inside and typed things because that's what I chose to do.

Not just parties, but numerous trivial, insignificant aspects of my situation I was not pleased with on yesterday. Rather than make an effort to improve them, I decided to go outside and attack a wall with a garden tool, as I usually do. This time, however, whatever I had hit the wall with broke into numerous pieces after the impact, and then I was angry about that. I was so angry, I even walked across someone else's lawn. Usually, I'd be afraid of being seen, but this time, aw ban, I wasn't. I eventually came to stop behind the garage of someone I hated. I hate all my neighbors. I once again felt the need to attack, but lacking a suitable garden tool, I kicked it instead. I know better than to punch something, fingers are important. Toes aren't, so much. However, I did discover that their capacities for pain are in closer proximity than their potential for usefullness. I do believe I heard something fall over within the structure, so that was satisfying. I limped back to my dwelling and then half-cried, half-evilly laughed for about ten minutes.    Eventually, I went downstairs and watched The Dentist 2, a sequel, of all things, to a retarded movie about a dentist who kills people. And here I thought he'd just be repairing people's teeth, making polite conversation and charging money after saying not to eat anything for a few hours. Why wasn't this film called The Violent Dentist (2)? I didn't pick it out. My parents, I don't think I mentioned this week that I live with them, but I do. They like to buy a bunch of dvds as christmas presents and then rent more to watch instead and return late. Late enough that the price is about the same as copies purchased, without the worry of them being watched again. It ended sometime after 12:00. I knew it would, but I didn't do anything about it. I missed the countdown, the ball descending, the lynching, the bake-off, the cat-smearing and sometimes Y, but I didn't really miss any of it.

I didn't feel like opening my window for reception, so I set my television to NBC (that, however, I cannot justify). A guy called Tom Jones sang a boring, repetitive song and then some rich upper-class thespians pretending to be homeless thugs collectively known as "Stomp" came out and banged garbage can lids for a few minutes. I've come too far to start lying now. Jay Leno thanked the guests I didn't see and then I realized something: However mediocre my day was, it couldn't have been worse than those of the Tonight Show's California audience, pretending to celebrate the eastern time zone's new year with not only Carrot Top, but Ross, the underachieving intern as well (he's been an intern for what, three years?) I didn't even have to applaud for them, and I got to see Conan O'Brien afterwards. Also, I still have some gummy bears left. I wonder if there's a The Dentist 3. I'd probably watch it.

Wednesday, December 31, 2003

I'm the FA O'Shwarz Friendship Tree! Thanks for coming to play with me!

I heard the milkshake song. I guess there is one. I wouldn't have thought this special or worth mentioning, but I was told in advance quite frankfully that I had not only already heard it, but loved it as well. Curse these amnesia storylines! The "song..." it wasn't that great. In fact, it wasn't any great. A simple repeating fake-drumbeat with some words that I confess my volume was set too low for them to be discernable, but I suspect I haven't missed much. Occasionally, the token fat black man pretending he's about to go jogging barked out square-dance calls or something to the audience. The singer, as I recall it, some curiously tan Scandinavian looking misshapen creature wearing a couple of fan-belts, looked like she just got done taping a "my grandmother dresses too sexy!" episode of Jerry Springer. For all these things I've said though, I really am impressed at Macarena for having another hit. This is a really stupid entry to end the year with.

No one gave me any calendars this year, December 29, 2003

Winter 2004: Danny DeVito IS The Lorax!

Here's something I've had lying around a while. I was going to make a page out of it. I didn't. So... I'm putting it here instead. I don't understand my process either.

I can't stand Danny De Vito. “Total Recall” is one of my favorite films of all time, not just because I get to see Arnold Shwarzaneggar wearing a towel-turban (quoth one website whose name I have long forgotten, “towel turbans rule the school!”), but also because Danny Devito's character is savagely murdered within the first twenty minutes. Why can't all of his appearances be like that?

That mildly to extremely sleazy Brooklyn accented fat midget character that he ALWAYS PLAYS does not deserve all the non-murderee exposure it gets. There's just something about smug, irritating movie scripts that entices people to hire this jope. He was in a film version of a Roald Dahl book, for rice cake! Roald Dahl books would be great if they didn't have such smug, irritating, entirely DeVito-esque heroes getting undeserved revenge on more interesting villains. This is a bad example, for I speak of Matilda (ugly, ugly name) in which DeVito plays a villainous character, and is not interesting. Additionally, he narrates the story, just because he loves his own voice that much. He also loves really, really awful songs from the 1960s, perhaps to punish the movie for having parts in which his voice is not heard.

Have you ever read The Twits? I'll take by your silence (well, I certainly can't hear you) that you haven't. It's about two old people who play mean spirited tricks on each other and eat children and all sorts of maddoxy things that are a joy to read about. Then midway through the book, Roald (a name which sounds even more weird on its own) decides “this book is too good. I'd better put some monkeys in it,” and he does. So these monkeys, who are named Mugwump's Children, Mugwump's Wife and Mugwump (possibly not in that order) enlist the entire garbleflasting cast of Bambi to glue The Twits' furniture to the ceiling. So the poor Twits (is this guy great with names, or what?), not finding such a thing any more plausible than I do, deduce that they themselves are on the ceiling, so then they stand on their heads to reorient themselves and end up crushing their skulls in and dying horribly and violently in the process. It being more or less a children's book, I would've been satisfied with that ending. So then Roald Dahl sez “no, they stood on their heads and shrank.” Huh? Duh-duh-duh-doy? Alright, so maybe the monkeys came over and ate the Diminut-Twits. “No, you fool! They just shrank! They were not eaten!” And then the book is over. As long as they've only been shrunken, I say there ought to be a sequel in which they capture and torture Stuart Little or Chinese water-torture The Mouse and the Motorcycle or some such thing. But that will never happen. Not just because Roald Dahl wrote neither of those books, but also because he is dead. However, Danny DeVito still lives.

Not long before I posted this, but shortly after I wrote most of it, this stupid promotion for D-reck TV comes on in which, ever so humbly, they have someone read off a fan-letter they've been sent, which they couldn't have made up at all. But it's not just anyone reading the letter, it's a celebrity, and if you've ever seen celebrity Jeopardy, this means they get to act in such a way that would get them edited out of a real episode of Jeopardy and replaced with 1/3 of a Growing Pains episode. And so our celebrities read the real (wink) letters in a really annoying, scriptedly spontaneous way. Danny DeVito is one of them. He says something about being told that you can't get decent reception with a satellite dish, and that such a statement is lies. Or one lie, anyway. Afterwards, he calls out to no one visible "Did I capture the guy's anger?" You see, he's talking to the crew. They're such a lazy, unqualified bunch that they didn't turn off the cameras, do any retakes, or edit out the parts which took place after they forgot to turn off the cameras. And this is supposed to make me want to order a satellite dish or something. No, this makes me want to buy a Teevoh, so I can record shows and have cut out retarded ads like the one I've just described.
Another one in the same series shows some twunk named Andy Garcia who... has done something, I'm sure. Maybe he was on Celebrity Mole 2. He reads something like "Direc TV isn't great, it isn't greater than great, it isn't greater than greatest, my mom." I really think the crew should have edited that one. Andee's comment to the letter writer is "I think I'm gonna have you write my next review!" Then the "crew" laughs. Not because that's a funny comment (it isn't). They're laughing because Andy Garcia must truly be a moron, if he's been hiring people to write reviews for him, and they're still all negative. And to think I'm doing this for free.

The Last Monday of the Yeeah, December 29, 2003

If you have been fibbing, you will be punished

I should have expected the first site to link to mine would be one I'd never heard of. Actually, this probably doesn't count, since the link was gone in a week, and it quoted me as "Cupcake" from something I said elsewhere on a subject totally unrelated to anything here, something, in fact, only kind of related to the subject it was related to, which is less noticable when my sentence is left unfinished. I'm not being vague right now to be secretive, it's just that I myself am bored by it. I think it was something about nsm files for nesticle emulator, (which I still claim is the best NES emulator for reasons I don't feel like nerding (I use Nnnesterj for the games it refuses to run)), and how you can speed up the boring parts or convince someone you're really good at hammerin' harry (at least, as soon as someone who is records itself completing that). The effect is even better than how the Official Mario Paint Players Guide insists you can trick someone into thinking you're playing Dr. Mario. Because that's why I paid $60+ for a SNES cartridge and an uncooperative device which was never intended to operate one: to trick someone into thinking I'm playing a game I don't even like. I'm just happy to have a reason. Right, so NSMs are better. Also, you just see the game, and not the dork playing it, as I've heard is the case with Pixelsurgeon's other link.

From the looks of Reed's report, the dork in question is none other than me, "cupcake," but that's not the case at all, as any of the sixty or so people who came here from that link must have figured out eventually. My url seems to have been placed out of link-compulsion and nothing else. It's probably only due to strict doctor's orders that any nouns at pixelsurgeon appear in plain text at all. LINK-FU IS A DISEASE.

A whole bunch of people, a seemingly perfect random sampling, whether confused or curious seem to have independently decided never to come here again. Not that I really want to be associated with any dope who'd thoughtlessly click the word cupcake, knowing as I do that there's stuff like this around. I additionally must question if the sort who'd be looking at a site like pixelsurgeon at all would posess any potential to appreciate what I do here (if indeed it is appreciable). I had always thought I was making this for me and the 100% hypothetical People Like Me, and me has never spent any amount of time at "portal" sites, except for when a fallen romsite redirects to one (if only I had clicked the ad-banner when I had the chance!). Why yes, thank you PositiveAdjectiveSearch. I'd be quite satisfied to click on a vague category instead of the specific object I was looking for while you secretly inject my browser with semi-automatic disguised porn links. I like it even better when they "can't find the page [I was] looking for" but tell me to "hold on" while I'm redirected to the main page where they also won't find it.

This Pixelsurgeon is a different kind of portal site, yes, but prior to the internet I only knew portals as glowing blue pathways to Dimension-X, and I have yet to find an internet portal which leads there, so they are all alike in that aspect. Just that whole epidemic of random stuff to link to, with the hope, not so much that people will like, just that they too will link to it from their insipid livejournals, say where they got the link from, and link back to the first linker. OMG check this out. I saw this on slashdot the other day etc etc ecch. I find looking at portal-sites like being part of someone's e-mail forward list, except no one actually needs to acknowledge my existence for me to not want to read it. Again, I generally know what I want, and it's not a surprise. I certainly don't want to find myself with more sites to look at. I've never said to myself "gosh golly gee, I really need to be wasting time on the internet more. Maybe these nice folks can tell me how."

I hate you, pixelsurgeon. I hope you accidentally leave a ball-peen hammer in one of your pixels and then there is enough complaining of your brutal and negligent malpractice to force your resignation and subsequent life-in-hiding. Your gray and green stylesheet fixed-width layout negative space non-negotiable monochrome stencil logo for maximum t-shirt compatibility with orange julius font sicken me. Thank you for your time and consideration in this matter.

Evil Creepy Filene's Mascot sez: Open us up and take out our brains! Then discard our worthless bodies like common trash. Throw us away as if we were boxes without faces! We live our lives to be abused and made refuse by you! We won't try to run away. As if that were possible with these uncomfortable high-heeled shoes or enourmous heads! The wicked Kuros easily captured and enslaved our entire village, so now we have nothing to exist for but your cruel and petty ceremonies! Only more suffering and eventual death await us, and we look forward to it! It's the most wonderful time of the year! Mutant Gift Boxes

Note: the above message does not necessarily represent the thoughts or words of Evil Creepy Filene's Mascot. I'm hoping they don't think.

Near   Also near but in a notably opposite direction.

Copyright 2001, 2002, 2003 and whatever year we're in now by pressing ctrl+c. Copywrong 2004 by selecting copy from the edit menu.