It has occasionally been theorized that if the ban on certain druggish substances were lifted than less people would be killed for drugs -when it is no longer necessary to deal with unscrupulous characters and situations- and by drugs once their forbidden appeal dissipates in favor of corporately sanctioned mundaniety. It is with just such a theory in mind that a new business recently opened up in remotely nearby Branford: (a fifteen minute drive to a region that incurs long distance telephone charges when people besides me call there)

I hate the Olimpice. The problem, is that unlike people, old, misguided, irrelevant traditions can very well live forever and keep the world from progressing beyond phases which are best progressed beyond. We've been through this topic with comic strips, and this is very much the same, except twits on television only expected me to give a modicum about Charles Shultz ever fifty years.

The whole Olympicking deal is pretty idiotic, but there's an intricate hedgemaze of lies and false cultural significance to hide it all behind. The only people with sincere emotional attachments to it as an institution are advertisers and whoever gets the money from them. However, once you let chess become a sport just because it didn't violate any rules written one-hundred and six years ago by someone who definitely would have written an addendum if it had been brought up then, even you, the people claiming to have the best interests of the world in mind, must confess that you have succumbed to bureaucratic integral lethargy. Seriously, what's next, Dungeons and Dragons? You could probably get tattoo removal or synchronized vomiting or the 100 hundred meter murder in there with enough signatures. Possibly you already have. I just heard today that golf is in there too, and that hardly qualifies as a game outside of THE OLYMPIAD.

Unlike most complainers, I don't have a problem with badminton, at least not anymore so than I do with tennis, because to someone such as I utterly devoid of interest, they're the same thing except one uses a funny looking ball. Ping-pong, however, does look notably dumber than both.
Basketball also is involved, and the players are allowed to be professional ones, and they used to not be, I hear. I guess they're no longer paid so much that if they really wanted gold medals they could buy a couple hundred of their own. Although I would still doubt the integrity behind, it is possible that at one point the "purpose" of the olimpicnic was to showcase amateur talenteds and give them pure, corporately untainted recognition of their ability. Hoowever, since more [decandent idiot amelican] people will watch professional players and therefore get more ads seen and more money transferred from one brigand to another, isn't that what really matters? Why can't we get this stipulation passed to the wrestling events? There it would mean something. If I believed there was the slightest chance of Ludwig Borga ambushing Rulon "Brainbox" Gardner with a steel chair only to get taken out by Hacksaw Jim Duggan's 2-by-4 I might watch... that two minutes of the program (gosh, I wonder which team he'd be representing).

I don't understand why this tomfoolery gets held in different nations. I heard by accident that all the recent Greek nonsense cost 7 billion dollars (I guess they finally discontinued the Drachma) to build the junk and it looks exactly the same as every other time I've seen people doing pointless physical things in specific types of buildings. Even the colors look the same. Would it cost nearly that much monetaryness to just airlift the arena things from last time to wherever the new location is? Oh, why even bother with that? Pretty much anything but the water events can be accomodated by an average parking lot with minimal effort. It can even be more exciting if you bring in some green screens (which any public access TV show can afford) and what's this? Olympic games on the moon! Whatever network is so flossing PROUD to bring me the olympia I won't be watching can still make all the region specific vignettes they want, and possibly incorporate elements of Jurassic Park besides the theme music.

Even though you can't, imagine you've justified the construction of all this stadiumry. Fine then. If you're willing to spend that much, why not instead build Olympic Island at the primer indian or international house of dateline or whatever it's called. This way, no one country suddenly finds itself out 7 billion dollars for stuff they have to share with 208 others, and it won't need to be made again in four years unless I decide to blow it up. You can make one for the cold-related events too, if you must. All the contestants will have to travel wherever it gets held, so why not make the trip less stressful by always being the same route?

The attendance at the shows I hear was less than satisfactory, because empty spaces look "bad" on television. That makes it look like people aren't interested... and... are they? Even if the emptinesses are filled through illegitimate means, and everyone meant to see them filled knows that 60% of the audience doesn't want to be there, this is better than no one being there at all, I'm told. One such way, which has been done before, is to give away free tickets, but that didn't happen this time. The excuse was that it's not fair to the people who paid for tickets, and it isn't, but it's even less fair to blame your own citizens en masse for not being interested enough to pay for such a pointless display which they have no reason to be that interested in and telling them it's their unconditional duty to make your deficit inducing mistake not look bad in other parts of the world also not watching. Ehhh? Oh. The Greek premier minister or some such equivelant person Bob Costas Karamanlis filmed television scenes urging Greeks, as if it was the fault of them and not a couple rich idiots they have no control over, to buy tickets out of patriotism. A hwuh? Just like that Rudo Guiliani ho begging people to watch broadway nonsense not so long ago. Just as then, it's the poor product's own fault if no one wants to see it.
Them Olympix too should not be allowed to assume the role of a child lied to by parents about their artwork (though I believe that should also be abolished), since the Olympics is not going to go kill itself because it thinks no one likes it (but I certainly welcome it to). Since it's nothing more than an exhibition which helps no one, there's no sense in keeping it alive. You're just helping the olympics for the sake of the olympics, and they aren't even alive as I've just noted you're trying to keep them, so they don't even comprehend how nice you're being. Even a tree can potentially return more love and affection to you. Crisps, why doesn't anyone ever spend 7 billion dollars on trees? That would eventually benefit the world, and besides that it'd be the first thing Greece ever did to atone for all the giant wooden livestock I hear they're always building over there.

Thursday, August 19, 2004

Hell hath no fury like microwave popcorn

EMERGENCY ALERT!

PAUL SCHAFFER IS RADIOACTIVE!
this Emergency Alert courtesy of Emergency Alert System

As I write this, the internet does not obey me. Compuserve will make me wait for it to dial and demand a correct password, but it will not access any websites. I could instant message people if I wanted to, but I don't. I remember AOL used to do this, but never consistently for days at a time. However, all their stupid welcomes and garbage no one should want to see would load up, but not actual websites so that was still fairly infuriating even by comparison (we'll see how I feel after a week). Compuserve's does not, which is amusing until I remember that this isn't going to stop happening. I deleted some jerpy spyware dlls, and immediately after that, I guess as "revenge" it froze my internet access, reasoning "If I can't look at your personal files, neither will you." Usually, I don't mind the stuff. Really. I share a computer with several other people, so any targeted advertising is going to be completely random. Even if it isn't, and one of them actually invents a service I want, I'm not a moron so I don't click ads ever, regardless of what they are. Right. So the "data mining" will do them no good. However, I have a problem if it's not just tracking urls, but individual mouse clicks and keyboard strokes so suddenly my display becomes jerkier than a wisdom tree game played windowed in fwNES (I wonder why no one rips off my great analogies). Then pop-up ads from nowhere saying stuff like SPYWARE GOT YOU DOWN? HA HA HA. BUT SERIOUSLY FOLKS, BUY SOMETHIN' WILL YA AND WE'LL STOP MAYBE. ADBLOCK 2000 THE ONLY AD BLOCKER WHICH CAN BLOCK ADBLOCK 2000 ADS. I love that there's a whole industry based around buying things to solve a problem which was only created to sell a solution to. "Love" being meant in the opposite sense of the word. It is nothing less than modern convenience that the existence of the solution can be the problem.

ANYway, without internet, and also because that olympic borcht completely preempted the show I watch for two weeks, that I captured a brief glimpse of (and fortunately had no means to record sounds from) GIRLS BEHAVING BADLY. They've not quite gone wild yet. Curiously, the people on the show are actually women, and they just put "girl" in the title because they think that will appeal to whoever keeps paying to watch movies with Lindsey Lopan in them. Another oddity, both people credited as creators in the credits have man names, so something sinister is going on. It's a hidden camera prank show, where behaving badly amounts to putting on stupid glasses, walking into an office building and delivering a bouquet of flowers to someone who doesn't work there. OOOH, GOT 'EM. Or maybe I misunderstood, and the prank was ordering flowers and then denying doing so, in which case: OOOH, GOT 'EM. The big trick, though, was having a prankster approach a different woman just standing around and commence claiming that the prankee's brother or friend or casual work acquaintance had made our hero pregnant. Wow, that is something completely crazy and so totally unbelievable which never happens. "You tell HIM that I'm carrying HIS baby!" Rather than being outraged or distressed, which would have been remotely entertaining, the VICTIM seemed confused and maybe just a bit concerned. "Gee, that doesn't sound like him at all." WELL GUESS WHAT, YOU JUST GOT CRANKED BY GIRLS BEHAVING BADLY! At this point seven as before unseen and as now unrelevant crew members -one of whom sounded suspiciously like Kathy Griffin- emerge to point and laugh obnoxiously. HA, HA! YOU TRUST PEOPLE! YOU DON'T AUTOMATICALLY ASSUME EVERYONE'S TRYING TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOU! HA HA, YOU BELIEVED LIES WE TOLD YOU! YOU'RE NOT INDIFFERENT TO THE LIVES OF OTHERS! TEE-HEE-HEE! Moving on.

Whenever we (we being us) order chinese foods, there ends up remaining a vat of rice and a bwat of various vegetable matters unused. I see this, and I feel bad if food goes uneaten, but I also feel bad if I eat food that someone else had intended to eat. I know, I'll wait until everyone else looks like they have stopped eating. Then I will take whatever remains. However, if I'm not there to watch it at every moment someone will place it into the refrigerator, creating the impression that they intend to eat it later. And then later they don't, and later and later and later. When the order goes out I'll say not to request on my behalf the large lo mein box if you're going to order the extra rice and vegetable matter again. This will be met with indecipherable dismissive mumbling. As if this is a forbidden topic and I just haven't read the rules (because like most life situations there aren't any, and people just assume I can take hints, which I can't). I suspect that the food is not meant to be eaten... not by one of us, anyway. It is a sacrifice to a god of some sort. As you know, gods tend not to eat their edible sacrifices until after they've begun to rot and been thrown away. I'm not allowed to know about this sacred rite, because whatever favor is being requested (and repeatedly turned down) is an embarrassing one. Probably something like "stop letting food go to waste in our refrigerator." You know how much gods love irony. You sure know a lot about gods.
It's disgraceful how often I get stuck in this position. Perfectly good food gets thrown out because I'm afraid of looking forceful and being "given" something the other had actually intended to eat, and it enters waste vicinity the second I become bored of watching and waiting in an interceptory position. And yet! absolutely disgusting caffiene free diet pepsi will remain half occupying abandoned cans for weeks at a time, inching ever so unnoticably over to whichever computer device it has a personal grievance against this week. Arb! I'm certain that stuff isn't sacrifice material (regardless of the tastobuds and tooth enamel sacrificed through drinking it), because santa claus only endorses coca cola brand soft drinks, and as you know,

Oh no, the DRAGON SPECIES!

BRONZE DRAGON!

SILVER DRAGON!

GOLD... SEVEN!

From now on, if I must acknowledge the subject, I will refer to someone's performance at olympiad in terms of which species of medals they've won. Ehhh.
Possessing only minor biological alterations, Scottish fold and Mexican hairless cats don't count as different species, so why would dragons be different? Different species usually have significant... differences like size and eating habits and brand loyalties. Considering that dragons aren't even real, we can make the differences as meaningful as we want. Look, this "specie" is made of chocolate. And this one has no head. And this one is allergic to gravity. When you're dealing with creatures imagined, have some imagination! The earth is counting on you. Good luck.

Yes, the cat this fearsome spectre rose out of is still dead.

If you run a restaurant, heed this advice: To create an impression of class and dignity, make sure your sign is written in the font.

Eat right or die. That's what the words on the shirt would spell out if you could read them. Erm. I understand that if you only ever eat hog bladders in your lifetime surely you will perish from lack of nutrients, yet I can't help thinking this guy actually plans to murder me or at least wish that upon me for not ordering a salad. Clearly, This Guy is the Louis Farrakhan to Winston's Martin Luther King Junior.

Hey, stupid kids on the beach, why do you drink Poland Spring natural redundancy water?
It tastes awesome, gulgyill gehgehgeh!
No it doesn't. Not to anyone else. If you're struck with awe just by drinking water, why would you ever do anything else? I see you're running on a beach as you say this. Are you only there on the beach to drink the spicy and exotic salt water? So Poland Spring doesn't even matter to you. Why are you on television?

If this stuff is so wonderful, even though I've just said it isn't, it must come from some place special. While it might have the name of a place in its name, since I'm a moron, flawed deductive reasoning is the only path to truth.

Interrogation: Where do you think Poland Spring natural spring water spring comes from spring spring?
It doesn't grow on trees.
I'm glad you told me that. I thought it did.
Aliens don't bring it.
At least, not yet. Although the Amelican business trend is toward outsourcing to other countries who have less money who therefore are only allowed to demand less money, a legal, mass-doable way to actually bring their people into the Yoo Ess and exploit them without granting them permission to stay has not yet been bought from the government.
The tooth fairy doesn't bring it.
Wait, are you sure? What are all those white and yellow specks floating around in it, then?
It doesn't come out of thin air.
Contrary to nature, when water evaporates it does not go into the air, and eventually the water does not come out of the air as rain. And let us not discuss whatever you might have meant by thin, all that atomic weight and such bidness, because I don't know much science. All I need to know is more than you.

Thursday, August 12, 2004

I'll always fondly remember and long for that time I was nostalgic.

I'm probably criticizing the wrong aspect of this, but it seems to me that you ought to write the words "final thought" inside a thought bubble rather than the type meant for speech. A thought bubble, as you surely know (unless you're the person who designed this show's graphics), is the kind with the humping curved edges, all cartoon smoke like. I realize that the thoughts are being said, but then they should be called final statements or some other such synonymous thing if they the words are to be contained within such a construction. Next week we discuss why Jerry Springer thinks with his spleen.

After viewing the McDonald public service announcement on a proper television set, I am now aware of a few more things:

The portly white bearded man is not the bus driver (leaving me to wonder what the gump he's grabbing at) and possibly not even psychotic, but the other guy is still an attention starved weirdo.

Symbolic black person at back of bus is not man nor woman, but actually a mannequin [on the move]. Even further back, Obi Wan Kenobi.

Even after nerd has been dealt with (like so)...

Bagman does not take the space (leaving the nerd free to return beside the person who shoved him once he finishes weeping), instead choosing a position in front of where I've always known the emergency door to be so that none of the scavengers who can't even afford to eat at McDonald's are able to escape once Bagman begins shooting out his space distorting gluttony qwell rays.

This is broken scanner twa. Since it was just the glass which was erred, I thought I might still be able to scan things small enough to not need the full area. This worked once. The second time, the light emitting device device became stuck and emitted a high pitched whine as well until I unplugged it. I attempted to reach inside the mechanism to get at whichever small object I had surely knocked into the space [when moving the computer so I could put the monitor on it and not need to lean on the wooden thing] was blocking the passage, which brings me to this next image:

Hey, look at this, sister's livejournal friends! If I can bleed this much from such a small place by accident, fathom what I could do if Jimmy Hunt didn't say "hi" to me or Invader Zimbob got pre-empted! To left is the fresh wound, and stee-right is after about twenty failed tries at a less blurred shot and needing to replace the batteries [with likely the same batteries I had taken out back in April] I realize the problem now: I can't control the focus. I don't know how to start controlling it, but it's nice to know at last what it is I'm unable to do. It is guessed by CAM-RA, the Everliving, who does not, as far as I am aware, permit me to override that. If only there was a way to enter my own focus settings!

Ah! Now we're getting somewhere. Or possibly not. Hey look, here's another line.

I had to fill out a form one time. Then I had to fill a form out another time. Many times such as these followed. Recently, it happened again. There was a space for me to choose my race out of six choices: White, Black, Hispanic, Asian, Other, and Prefer not to Respond. At this point I realized something: Hispanic and Asian aren't colors. I suppose scientifically black isn't either, being the absense of color, but it does refer to color. Also, I've heard Asian referred to as yellow in some rare instances. I never knew Hispanic wasn't white, though. Again, for absolute accuracy "white" isn't white, but it at least is as white as Hispanic is. We either need to upgrade to vga and increase our color palette or stop using color names. I just don't think it's fair that the only white subdivision that gets its own entry on race select is Hispanic if I can't tell them apart from Italians, Spaniards (regularspanics) or Russians, who are at least as unwhite as Hispanics are. This might sound racist, and it should, because, dealing with race it is therefore racial, and ial, ist, ish and y are suffixes which commonly mean approximately similar things. So, this should sound racist, but all the different kinds of white people look the same to me. However this isn't about me, it's about them. If they only see "white" and "Hispanic," how do they know which to choose? If it may be about me again for a moment, I can choose white because I know I'm not Hispanic, but if I suddenly became Hispanic I wouldn't know I wasn't white. I would have to either choose other or risk prefering not to respond.

I additionally noticed there weren't any other or prefer not to respond beside the female male boxes. Please, don't judge me based on my unwilling placement into one of four different irrelevant categories, I'd much rather you judged me based on my unwilling placement into one of two different irrelevant categories. But what if I'm Tobi the Neuter from that one episode of Sally Jesse Raphael? What if I'm one of the dinosaurs from Jurassic Park? Just to be safe, I checked neither box, and I haven't had any trouble yet.

I have to assume this is a re-occuring problem in the Waddle household.

Mundayne, August 9, 2004

I've just typed a pound sign. Marvellous.

These things are going to be even more depressed when they realize that they lack sufficient appendagery to open bottles with.

I understand that it has long been customary to create an artificial presentation of your living dwelling when you have guests invading. However...

Blue water will never be welcome in my toilet. It wasn't enough to put some toilet paper on the roller-thing, I guess (even if the wrong way). The last thing we need are people looking in their latrines and saying "oooh, pretty." Gorby knows we've already had to kill enough pygmy Arabians in this house alone for doing just that. By the wayans, this toilet has to be at least as old as me is, so that's actually a pretty good level of general cleaniness in and about it. Also consider that every picture I take with artificial lighting looks more yellow than is desirible. Ehhh, this aged privy uses more water than the knavish young upstarts you might buy these days, and all the local houses discharge into septic tanks, so it was long ago advised to limit our flushings when dispensing of liquid leftovers. This means that before long secretion central here begins to remind one of the patented Gladlock sealing mechanism, and in this context that's hardly helpful, necessary information. What's more, I don't think anyones would let me hold this toilet downsideup over their heads, whatever the color is (I will refrain from mentioning meatloaf or tuna casserole as additional contents for the courtesy of someone who doesn't realize I'm referring to an old plastic bag advertisement and not the toilet at this point). At any grape, if I've ruined the remainder of your day you're very welcome to leave a comment stating so.

Hmmm... HOW can we make a tired and overexposed internet joke seem exciting again? Answer: You can't, but let's make it take 80 times longer to load! Yes, let's embed a Quick(haha)Time movie in the page to convey a cheap trick previously only put forth in a 57kb Flash file. I think it was the You need to have the sound on part which gave the scheme away. Why would I need the sound on to see a ghost? Answer: There is no ghost. There is a very loud noise, accompanied by some inverted image of a non ghost who posed for the picture, however. I haven't seen it
(I got about this far and then as I'd expect to happen with a six megabyte file over an already unstable dial up connection additionally powered by compuserve, it stopped loading), but I think I know how this game works. If you have one of those fancy fast internets -you know, the kind that makes website designers all over de waruld who have it forget that anyone else doesn't- watch this thing with your sound on and tell me I'm right. Even if I'm not. I would appreciate that. Also, it's nice to know internettional fiction writers still haven't lost their touch. Do I really believe people would be afraid of their film of a car that kind of looked like it had a ghost in it simply because they live in Norway? Just as well as I believe that every deposed dictator in Africa misplaced their $20 million dollar fortunes within weeks of each other. Those kwazy foreigners!

MAME is a Multiple Arcade Machine Emulator. Hopefully you knew that already, because otherwise the rest of this won't make sense to you. Unlike everything else I write. Over the years, as more multiple arcade machines have been emulated mame.exe has become larger and bigger. The most recent version, 0.84 is quite above 5 megabytes decompressed and only very slightly less than that encompressed. It certainly isn't any easier to use than it was three years ago, but if you've been waiting for a chance to play Quiz Do Re Mi Fa Grand Prix 2, this is the MAME for you. Even if it isn't, in the event you plan on downloading any games, you'll probably have to get this mame, because many roms updated for this mame won't function in previous mames. My internal reasoning is to follow: With each new mame games require less exclusive files to run (I assume much of this is contained within that bloated 6 megabyte exe) and therefore code shared by these games doesn't need to be downloaded for each and every one of them. That's great if you've just started downloading games today and have seen fit to get them all, and all at once. Maybe you'll save a whole seven minutes overall. This is not so great if the only game you want to play is Bubble Bobble, and have no need for the latest Street Fighter Delta Rho -1 drivers, but have to get them anyway because they're merged with the ones you'd actually planned to use. The mame fack claims rom changes occur when a new thing is emulated, but that's only referring to old roms not working with new mames. My problem is changed roms not working with old mames, so ha ha ha. I win? No. Wait. I'm confused.

But forget that. Ah, I see you're far ahead of me (Please come back, this site gets very few visitors). Let's say hypothetically that you downloaded mame 0.61 a year ago. It works properly, as well as you might expect it to, but you suddenly remembered an old game you don't have and for some unfathomable reason you decide you want it. Didn't Snow Brothers have an NES port? It must have been remotely playable. Very likely it isn't, but you can get at it very quickly because you see it's only 194kb so it won't be a big issue either way and you convince yourself that you'll be allowed to play it once you decide to.

This is because the latest 5 ton MAME was released and it made those files obsolete! Therefore, anyone keeping a rom archive would remove the now irrelevant file from the download of the games which no longer need it. Now, since the game in question was released in 1985ish, these "missing" files couldn't have totaled more than like 15000 bytes. Was that really worth deleting from the archive and reuploading without it and then doing the same for however many other games are affected? Yes. "Yes" being said in a blatantly sarcastic tone of voice. So this does require me to go out and acquire a new MAME executable that lets me play about three previously unemulated games I'd never want to/ be able to with a 1998 Dell Optiplex and the old ones not any better, in a download that will probably take an hour, longer if for some crazy reason that's not the sole reason I went online. Obviously, to split MAME so that the old games that never didn't work aren't compromised in the interest of new ones that probably shouldn't is not an option for a reason which eludes me just now. Now lets say you did all this anyway and it still won't run.

But that's not so bad. It's not like you also downloaded a couple of considerably larger games which also don't work, is it? Shut up, yes it is! Which means that in addition to downloading them again, you obviously need to find a more reliable romsite (because don't you deserve better for all your years of loyal leeching?). Also still, all your old saves no longer work and the new ones still have stuff wrong with them. Oh oh, and since you don't have internet on the computer you use for this, every time you want to get something bigger than 1.4mb you need to hook up various annoying peripheral units, disconnect them, move them, and connect them again. How did this happen? What's going on? Did I or you or we or whoever really spend all those hours piggling around and documenting my piggling for no reason? There's supposed to be a resolution of some sort at the end, yet no progress has been made. This doesn't make sense! What happened?

I'LL TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED! YOUR COMPUTER JUST GOT MAME'D!

What? Hey!

BEEP BEEP! DON'T BE LAMO, YOU MIGHT GET MAMO'D!

Bah.

Sunday, August 01, 2004

You will know it is time to turn the page when you hear the chimes ring like this

I'm 80% certain I haven't put this here before, with chance of thunderstorms.

Graffiti artists have advanced much intellectually since the days of my yore. There was a time when they would seek out a speed limit: 25 sign and lay a line through the two to make it resemble an 8 which had tried to leave a parking garage without paying. The hope being that an outsider not familiar with local traffic regulations would believe the recommended vehicle rate to be eighty-five miles per hour and drive that fast and hit a house or another vehicle and kill people. But such fun and good times as that was are in the past. Our artists are older and more mature, and will not be satisfied if they cannot evoke a thoughtful reaction from their audience. Und so ve haf "Speed limit: B0." They want us to think about and discuss this piece. What does bo mean with regard to automobile fastness? How much time do you have to figure it out before you are in violation of law? Is that a rivet or a decimal point between the B and the O? Is this a Monopoly railroad reference? Does it seek to raise hygeine awareness? We must take time to reflect (and not just off of our windshields when we're trying to take pictures of this sign). If you come across this place, I advise you to stop your car at once and meditate upon the significance of the sign. If another car becomes impatient behind you, advise its occupants to do the same as you. This sign was defaced for a reason, a good one, by a noble crusader for intellectual progress.

Unlike some people.

Hey, jopes who live in the house next to mine: I'm the only person who can see your grass, and I'm not impressed, so turn off your feeping lawn-mower. They show up on Friday, cut the grass very loudly, and leave. I detest the moan of the lawn mown. Gosh I'm a moron. But look at that. There's still dead grass and tiremarks lying around from the last butchering. It really should make me feel better to be in such close proximity to people whose lives have less meaning than my own... hey it does. I don't mean to pick on these probably very nice people; I mean to pick on many probably very nice people, because very nice people are the ones most likely to get away with being morons.

Also, beyond the fence behind my house, some family of mopes wiping a boat (the fence is probably theirs). They keep it under a tarp, removing that only to wipe the boat, and sometimes not even then. Wipe wipe wipe. Tarp tarp tarp. Boat boat boat. Ha ha ha. In this scene the tarp has been lifted and suspended from several unseen points so as to protect it from the acid rain we get around here, I guess. More recently they painted and repainted the boat several times and took it somewhere else, where it is also likely beneath a tarp except when being wiped. Also, someones in this general direction are fond of telling (undisclosable elements indicate) a dog to "sit." Not for any reason, just because, living a life devoid of merit or creative accomplishment all they have going for them is having been borne into a species which regularly exerts dominance over another due to millenia of fellow specie members forcing this submissive behaviour. Congratulations, you've inherited someone else's brute authority and become human chauvanists.

Here's someone spraying a driveway with water. Why? Not to "clean" it, certainly; it pretty much is dirt. No, this process serves entirely to mock the people in Africa who have to boil their water for half an hour and then drink it like that to not get cholera and the Hawaiian cat flu. This is to say "look, not only is our pleasantly cold water disease free, we're dumping it on the ground so no one can use it!" Weigh the by, that very driveway is vacated by the "owner" for roughly 11/12 of the year, who still manages to feign shock and besmirchment when returning to find someone else using it.

Who could it be now?
Only because I noticed it weighed above 10 kilobytes is it on a seperate page. No upgrade in quality should be expected. That you should expect.

Super Piratos sez: ARRRRR! These be Super Piratos! They've ducked into a telephone booth, put up their colors, prepared the plank and manned the torpedo tubes all in the name of Haribo, governor-general of Deliciousness! These black saltlakrid dubloons be in a plastic bag not for thar protection, but yers! I can sense the fear in ye, perhaps ye'd like some regular Piratos! No? I've sailed the four food groups and plundered the FDA pyramid a score o' years and I 'll tell ye, if ye cannae handle regular Piratos, ye'd best keep yer hands and hooks offa the Super variant! As me best pal Yugo the parrot is so fond o' sayern', "en go' staerk lakrids te alle lakrids elskere!" A landlubber like ye might be more interested in a less timber-shivering nautically-themed rationry like Swedish Fish or Cap'n Crunch's Choco Donuts if ye not be willin' to fight for yer share o' the plunder! Arrrr, ye makes me sick, ye does! Or maybe I've just come down with scurvy again! Thar be none o' that natural fruit flavors hornswaggle 'round here, Benjamin! Only the finest spices from the Phillipines and rum and barnacles and good kryptonites go into Super Piratos! Aye, at the same time, ye daft scallywag! Super Piratos! Super Piratos

Note: The above message does not necessarily represent the thoughts or words of Super Piratos, which probably don't resemble English so much.

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