You are here. When are you leaving?

no one will call you a slime elf anymore

Whichever jackdaw ineptly takes command of this country I live in, I will be glad when people stop talking about things which inspire me to write things like this, because I should not.

I never understood how George Bush supposedly went from being a twitwit to a great leader merely for not randomly attacking middle eastern nations right away, but it definitely served to endear him towards whoever keeps getting polled, even after three years of flim flam mcshammery. Although the initial illusion of foresight may have irritated the delegates from Letskillthesandniggersylvania, I think it's safe to assume those are straight-ticket republican voters who would re-elect the guy whatever he did, so you might think it wasn't even necessary for him to start. However, perhaps you've heard an argument that since VV's goons were the ones who started the war, they should be the ones to finish it. What in Kansam's name kind of logic is that? Is this insinuating that the only mistake the last Bush made was not making his war last long enough? "gee, this guy's a good enough president, but I just wish he had dragged out the killing some more."

In the blue corner, there are a series of movements to make "the youth" cast more votes in the upcoming election. They'll tell you some flan like "children are our future," which is first of all irrelevant, since people who speak in cliches don't question legalities, and in this country children are legally adults at their eighteenth year, before which they may not vote. And second of all that's not even why. The people who organized this just want George Walker Texas President not to be elected again. If they did, then they wouldn't bother, because old people will easily accomplish that unchallenged. If the mission was truly non-partisanly driven and potentially of noble intent, then still it wouldn't happen because, with minimal exception kids [and people slightly older than kids] are dumb anyway. I hear stuff like "make your voice heard and change the world." Since no one ever says "make your voice heard and keep the world as it is," I assume re-election is not a goal.

Specifically I will refer to Droo "The Wanderer" Barrymore's documentary program upon the subject of urging them young fellers to do voting. My problem is that it errs on MTV. Anyone who'd only vote if someone on MTV told them to doesn't deserve to decide anything that affects anyone else. Certainly, the exact same could likely be said about Fockth Newth enthuthiathtth (pardon my lithp), but that doesn't make it right. We need to silence idiocy, not shout over it with an idiocy trance remix.

I hope not dying is covered by the student activities fee

Cast a vote or whoever wrote this sign will kill you. My favorite part is "Register here to win." Ehhh... I'm hardly enthused to win any prize that the only way to not win is through forfeiting my life. If you feel the same way, understand that if you register to vote now, you'll get ~~over a hundred tilesets~~ a complimentary box of popcorn. In times such as these, we must all ask ourselves the difficult questions: Am I capable of making an informed decision? If not, do I at least like popcorn?

Lo! Voters pass through here! Good day for hunt.

This November: Vote popcorn! You didn't register to make a difference, you registered for some empty calories. And... the Snapple wasn't even free! You had to buy that yourself.

What a fool I've been! All this time I've been voting for a rock!

More threats: Register to vote or this guy will lick you. You won't necessarily die, but you may find yourself wanting to.

''I pledge to ask someone who looks smart which side my heart is on''

On a related topic, if you're only doing that sex because you vowed to, why even bother? This isn't like eating broccoli or learning a new language in that you better yourself by annoying yourself. Making sex is not an accomplishment. People do it because I guess they enjoy it or want children. Not because they're true to their word. You must be playing truth or dare. Oooh! You have to kiss Benjamin Nushmutt! If you don't kiss Benjamin Nushmutt I won't be your friend anymore. And trust me, you NEED friends who require you to do regrettable things which don't help anyone. Now if you'll excuse me, I have pledged to eat this thermometer.

Anyone who really desires to make a difference should have started long ago, before that quackeroo John K. Rhee won every frupping pre-election election that someone else hadn't rigged first.
I don't think it's right that the candidate gets chosen based on how much they resemble a dollar bill portrait (in this case, one that's been through a washing machine several times). Additionally, Amelicans need to understand that Abraham Lincoln's skin wasn't actually green and wrinkled while he was alive.

This election reminds me of a questionnaire I had to fill out once, one that asked me things like whether I would rather fix toilets or sort library card catalogs. (somehow this would indicate without error the job I was destined to do until I die) Or this other time my brother of band asked me if would rather drink milk or liquid cheese. In this analogy John Kerry is liquid cheese, so I'm still probably going to vomit. Worse still, most people who aren't me seem to like milk, so I will be vomitting in vain.

Even if the vast left wing conspiracy succeeds in mocking the vote, they may not get the results they want. Since I [obviously] know nothing about political maneuvers, here's my alternate method for determining why George Bush will still win: His nickname is W, and you can make a W, as I demonstrated earlier, by putting two Vs together. Even though I personally went with Froplet, "VV" is the default name of the wizard robot from Final Fantasy IX, which sold millions of units to currently eligible voters. John Kerry, on the other hand, doesn't have a nickname.

...That should be enough. However, if I continue on the Final Fantasy path, and I think I may, then John Kerry must surely be Hippaul, who is not only a deformed and frightening creature, but also directly responsible for perhaps the most trivial and least enjoyable side-quest of any video game. Even I have difficulty supporting that.

Hey, who drove a steamroller over the big cake I made?

Thankfully, that's not allowed.

I typed about "making a difference" before, and how anyone who truly wished to would have started a large amount of time before now, but perhaps I'm being unfair to the deceased. They may have expected us living to get the job done ourselves, and that is why they waited until now to speak up.

Mao Spitoon not only returned to life, but he became a U.S. citizen and crossed [communist] party lines to at least choose the lesser of two great quantities. You'd think, with its reputation for limiting freedoms without adequate justification, acting without regard for the will of the willful and dislike for properly functioning voting processes, the current administration would find something of a torch-passer in Mao, but that is not the case. Perhaps Mso feels his intellectual property has been infringed upon. Or maybe he thinks it hasn't been infringed upon enough, and that someone else should have a turn. Who knows? (The person who took up pen to write in the "Y!" at the end of that quotation. Anyone else could not have assumed Mao was voting for anyone other than "KERR.")

Or maybe, the most sinister possibility of all, due to an international translation delay and his general bewilderment due to being only recently revived, Mao has become the punchline for an e-mail forwarded American Idol joke by attempting to vote for Kerry Crarkson. More on this as it develops, and I can tell you with almost certainty that it won't.

Sunday, September 26, 2004

I never draw the line. I kick the koala at drawing the line!

I don't need to transition into these if there's nothing before them.

While I'd to hate to live life knowing I'd never be able to take a break to enjoy it, perfectly burnt bread sounds great!

I hate nuts. Peanuts alone are enough to abhor the whole gaggle over, just because from them is made peanut butter, one of the most vile purportedly edible substances to not have any milk involved. Oh, and peanuts kill certain people who eat them. That's pretty bad, I guess. However, I hate all nuts. They taste bad, they annoy my tooths, and they will not leave chocolate alone. Chocolate chip cookies with macadamia nuts, fudge brownieds with walnut shrapnel, the peanut butter cups of Reece don't deny their crimes... the infamous Almond Joy even has coconuts in it. Oh, and almonds too, I guess. Those are also not good. But we'll come back to that.
Nuts are bad news. Whoever keeps forcing nuts into things is nuts. Ha ha ugh. Not just nuts; "nutty as a fruitcake." Hopefully you've never been in a situation to have heard someone say that, but I want you to see now just how wrong it is. Why is a cake named after fruit described after nuts? Fruit is sometimes good. Nuts are not ever. They know no one would buy a nutcake, so they had to lie and say they were fruit ~~so their parents would stop pressuring them to get married~~. How are they allowed to get away with this? There are also nuts in granola, something that's difficult enough to like without the nuts. I don't like raisins much, but they are fruit, at least. Kind of. Oat bran... well, the raisins are there so I don't taste that. With nuts involved the raisins have to work twice as hard, and it's been hard to get them to do that ever since the nuts convinced them to form a union. Aw, nuts! Excuse me. Aw, beans!

There used to be a breakfast cereal called Basic 4, a name making reference to the myth of four food groups. For the bread group were your standard issue flakes. For fruit was, shock beyond shock, raisins. Also bits of cranberry and apple I read accidentally, but only raisins show up undiddled. For the lactose group was milk. There wasn't actually milk in the box. They expected me to put that in myself. How pathetic is that? Truth, I don't like milk and am glad to be not forced into dealing with it, but if Basic 4 can pull a stunt like that, how soon before Lucky Charms becomes an add your own marshmallow and debatably offensive irish stereotype cereal? Why not call it Basic 4 Plus Eggrolls, Eggrolls Not Included cereal? 'Ey. I don't want to take the extra step of having to add stuff, because, assuming I just have spare food lying around, then I might as well put in some grated cheese and gummi bears and taco sauce as well. Frimbip, I might as well actually make myself a decent breakfast instead of some junk out of a box made from the same material.
...This is relevant to the nut problem because, for Basic 4's meat group... nuts. You might be thinking at this moment that nuts aren't meat. You are smarter than you look. You need to add the meat yourself, too. As it is, Basic 4, may still be a better cereal than Mueslix or Shredded Wheat, but that doesn't change the horrible lie it gets away with. When you consider that it only bears 2 out of its 4 and that needing to add stuff must surely void "basic," the product only fulfills a quarter of its promised bargain, a quarter known more commonly as "25%," and more commonly still as "raisin bran," except General Mills put nuts in it. That's all he did. He put nuts in raisin bran. And... General Mills already has a Raisin Nut Bran. I'll kill that wretch. Or start a rumor that he eats Kellogg's Corn Flakes. If it fails to bring forth a bleedingly violent mutiny, it should at least get the Total people to start harrassing him.

I was supposed to be talking about nuts. Now we are coming back to almonds. Although almonds (sans joy) are more tolerable than peanuts whilst in mixture with chocolate, their moral corruption cannot be denied. I have just received alarming evidence indicating that almonds have allied themselves with ducks. My sources intercepted a cryptically worded note originating from a mysterious agency known only by the wicked, totalitarian regime-sounding name of "Great Wall." The ducks and the almonds know entirely well the theoretically invincible unit they have now become. The note itself reveals little as of now, but our current progress hints at the existence of a frightening hybrid horrorbeing known only as Almond Duck.

I... I suddenly feel quite unwell. We will continue this discussion at our next meeting. You are all dismissed.

Why can't we get 3/3 less Tony?

Maybe I'm not a cereal connoisseur, but isn't the whole point of frosting the flakes with sugar to have someone eat that sugar on the flakes? If you like Frosted Flakes, but don't like all the sugar... then you don't really like Frosted Flakes, because that's the only reason to like Frosted Flakes. I imagine two thirds of the sugar is just the right amount to taste... wrong but still offend your health. Why not try eating flakes that aren't frosted at all, you stupid fat sod.

Sunday, September 19, 2004

When I wake up, first thing I do -- EGGS

One thing I don't hate about being involved with show folk is eating. I'm told that feeding them as a group is legally tax deductable. I tell you this in an attempt to explain these and possible future pictures of goings on at various pizza serving restaurants in the coming months.

why isn't there a scary anthropomorphic clock instead?

I'll grant them their right to exist, but I wouldn't accept tutelage from people who can't even remember to wear pants.

Since I didn't take a picture of the place where we did go to find foods, you are free to pretend that it was here.

I'll take a medium non-delicious, please.

Shouldn't my goal be to quench my thirst? Why have a drink at all, otherwise? I realize soda's traditional role is to refresh the desire for it, but I think this is best left unstated. And I know that's the kind of cup that has lids made for it, so I advise you to administer one to prevent future spillage of brown fluid. Alas, I failed to interpret this as foreshadowing for the events to occur later. In other news, I don't want any people coming together with my pizza, good or not. It's not my fault Jason Biggs has a career. One more thing, on the menu booklets, of the quality which you'd not usually associate from a place that also has a menu sign, "LG MOZZARELLA" costs $10.50. The economy actually got worse in the seconds it took us to arrive at our table.

Luckily I'm taking medication for my plaid allergy

These people appear to be drinking wine. I theorized that, given the surroundings (West Haven, the westingest haven west of East Haven), it must surely have come from a box. A West Haven resident, the owner of the arm portion to your left insisted that there were people in the area who brewed their own wine and things of that nature. Think moonshine. A box would take too long; this is wine from a bag.

Seeking to emulate its ancestor's deeds, my beverage thought best to aquaint itself with the floor, portions of the table and also me. This being counter to my wishes, my response was to scornfully rub napkins on it. The one big napkin who had arrived with the metalry and then a bunch of smaller ones that didn't help. The large napkins played a role not entirely unlike that of the staff members who all seem to have brought their children today. Hey! Could I get some help over heeyah?

With my resource shortage, I wondered aloud whether I should attempt to help the floor or not even bother. Arm segment person, channeling Socratres, asked if the floor would bother with me. I spent the rest of the occasion in fear of that happening.

From SCTV, it's Bobby Bittman! Right now you're either not getting that or not finding it amusing. So how is this unusual for my page, then? Look at how big the picture is! It's only 320 pixels by 320 pixels! When do I ever do that? The next size after 1600x1200 which CAM-RA will output pictures at is 1024x768, and I seem to have had that selected at the time of this image's capture, and to crop by any lesser amount would result in the display of excessive irrelevant data. That is all.

This is the closest thing West Haven has to trees

Attention homeowners: ~~THERE'S NEVER BEEN A BETTER TIME TO REFINANCE!~~ Christmas lights aren't tacky in September if you don't turn them on.

Despite what your coffee mug says, if you're thirty-nine years old you aren't a "kid." There's an age cap on that. What there isn't one on, is having money. Does it make a difference whether they're under 40 years or not? And why is that the same number as the amount of them that there are? It doesn't say a whole lot for the worth of your story if the sorting system intervals take precedence over the content.
Also: Compuserve is still the leading expert on what I need to know. Which 'Apprentice' between single quote marks was shot out of a cannon first? If I wanted to know that, I would have watched the show. However, my need to know it exists independent of my immediate desire. Are you fat? If so, you might still be losing the fat race. Become fatter merely by changing the street arrrangements of your surroundings. Have you ever loved a lobster? Go to your room and think about what you just did. Who are your ancestors? NEED TO KNOW ANCESTORS FOR TO MAKE GOOD HONOR. That's enough. I'm done with you.

Monday, September 13, 2004

And my first act as dictator is to proclaim myself emperor

I hate the Eiffel Tower. I'll figure out why later.

Not long ago, I registered for a sculpting class. Even less long ago, it seemed a good idea to deregister me. My thought, at first learning that there was a sculpting class was something resembling "what? I can get college credit for making neat things out of clay? That can't be right!" It isn't. Clay is involved, but only one thing will be made, and I don't find that thing so neat. Heads. Human heads. No freedom, no creativity, no imagination. Accurate, unexaggerated replications of actual heads of actual humans. Why? I see those every day. If ever I need a visual record of one, hopefully cameras will have been invented by then. Big woids were said of how heads are what people notice about each other, but I actually avoid looking at them, because I hate the mouths that they insist on carrying, and as for the ears I prefer the type found on your bats and your goats, and I already told you those aren't the kind of heads being made. Stupid deformed monkey human heads. The heads are all to be life-sized, too. It truly harms me to think of all the fascinating small things I could make for the price of one big creepy disembodied head. If that wasn't bad enough, the heads will not be accompanied by bodies in this semester. The dullness asided, that's just dangerous. Time and date again throughout history this has been the case. Why can we not learn from our past mistakes? Acknowledge the figures below if you dare to doubt me.

(if they don't appear beside each other then your computer probably has a virus)
Everyone should know by now that left unattended, disembodied heads begin flying around shooting fireballs at people, and I'm not having any of that. I'm a big star. I had my play produced. I saw Hulk Hogan in a book store once (apparently he can read). I don't need to put up with this.

That was after the first class. It was aborted early because there was no model person, and to know that there would even be one should have made me know enough to drop the class right then, but I foolishly returned the following date for an awkward interrogation. Upon entering, I saw about five dark brown bodiless heads mounted on wooden pedestals, but it was the tourists boiling in the big pot that really made me feel uneasy. Still, I pursued another example of why I don't talk to people.
Does the possibility exist of making anything besides heads?No.
Immediate, vaguely offended sounding, almost as if to say
How dare you ask me that question, puny protozoa.
except with a lot less words. I appreciate efficiency, hence the non change of font. I suppose it is possible that maybe just a lot of people want to know that, so that the question of it has become irritating. Sensing this irritation, I continued
No exaggerating of features or something I also said but forgot?
We're seeing things as they are.
I pretended to be openminded, even though I really wanted to make bats and goats:
And it's just heads? Not even arms or ankles or appendices? Just heads?
That's what the class is. Question me no further lest I should cut you, fool.
Huh. I thought the class was "Sculpture 1," not "Head Sculpture Many More Than 1" (oh, snap). I foolishly gathered by the presence of but one word that a wide variety of topics within that subject would be covered, like how to keep things from breaking apart or falling over. I had a physics class, and it definitely wasn't three months of using a sledgehammer to smash cinderblocks on people (though that would have been more fun than making a clay decapitee memento) Three hours a day twice a week to do something I hate. Crisps, if I'd intended to be miserable in such an inconvenient stretch of time I'd take a biology class, get an additional credit point, and possibly learn something. I shouldn't have to put up with this. I already told you I'm famous.

That's what I hate about organized art nonsense. Oh, you drew this bowl of fruit? Do you still have the real bowl of fruit? I would like an apple. Ehhh. If you're (this is addressing a different you) going to require people to suppress their thought to work with you, at least sentence them to recreate interesting scenes or objects. Maybe "here, draw this tablecloth with a viking helmet on it" or "sculpt this dead armadillo." I think the eventual goal should be to not need to look at things to make art. I hear Norseman Rockwell used to order repressed housewife figures to stand over a table holding various foods I don't eat for hours at a time so that their image could be painted. So now you've wasted other people's time, made a picture no one likes, and only proven that you can copy things well.

In summary: Heads are bad news.

I hate the vh1 attitude of “ha ha ha I can't believe 'we' used to listen to Journey OMG the new video from hookerskank! ”
'Ey. Don't pass judgement on people for idioticly liking something popular twenty years ago if you can't help doing it now. One time, What's New Compuserve, ever present and openly mocking me for still not getting another internet provider, informed me of a website which had named We Built Thith Thity by Thtarship the worst song of all time (really? You've never encountered an advertisement with "ya'll ready for this" in it?) citing its pretensious lyrics. Like proclaiming yourself the authority to determine what is worst ever isn't pretensious. And then the next day Compuserve's all like

It seems only liking currently popular morons is permissible. That's why they're popular. Because they're popular. There's no immediate shame in exhibiting a shameful interest in them. Unless they're fat.

It's unfortunate that we'll have to wait ten years to find out.

Is this ironic, or have I still not looked up that word yet? (I actually haven't) I'm so confused. Maybe someone who only has one name can help.

I know these are from different welcome menu font periods, and therefore perhaps not so recent that I'm still expected to find them not trivial, but that's just because eventually I realized I have about 68 different what's new image captures and if I didn't start complaining about them soon then I might choke to death on a raisinette and someone would find the pictures on my hard drive and just think I truly admired the art of exclamatory headlining.

Shocker! That last one was about a place I don't give a pancake about rather than a person! Sometimes CS (as the kids say) will try to make media personalities seem comparatively interesting by listing them beside things like

Water, perhaps?

Ehhh. That's enough for now. Oh, this is far from over, but I can't think of a good transition right now.

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

I wish Marilyn Monroe was alive just so I could wish Marolin Munrow to be dead.

it's almost time for... no, not the rememberance of a couple thousand meaninglessly dead people. I speak instead of The New Haven Register's 'cut it out' auction. (Dave Coulier not confirmed). But now that you mention it, I did write some terribly insensitve thing on the subject long enough ago to not remember when I wrote it. I remembered, when I went to refer to it when I was angry at Olympia, that it had never been here to later be referred to. Maybe I was afraid someone once willing to feign liking me would get annoyed, but after two years of this website, I understand that no one's going to say so if they are, so why hesitate further? Understand then, that it's only because I'm so busy that I'm going to have my publicist say it for me.

You're going to lose all your endorsement deals, Bipcritter.

It's not all about you, New York. That was an attack on American ideals, and I'm not saying all American ideals are bad, but it ought to be noted that New York just happens to embody the very worst ones better than anyone else, except maybe Texas, but if they tried to build something that big it would probably sink into quicksand or something. All my life, I'm constantly hearing "oh, New York's so great. New York don't take nuh-in from nobody!" And then suddenly, it's all "poor new york! Won't you help New York?" People from all over the world (apparently) gave money to help New York, and New York just acts like it won that money on Tic Tac Dough. No, no. New York acts like Zeus gave it to them, because that's just how great they are. How much money did it really need, anyway? I think around seven buildings fell down. Yesh, that's quite a lot, and two of them were kind of big, but last time I checked there were a few thousand of them in the vicinity. That would be the equivelant of me chopping off... let's say, one of my fingers. I'll live. What about the families? I'm forgetting the families? No I'm not. What, did they all have their money in a giant vault over there? I've heard 10000, I've heard 6000, I've heard 3000 were killed. No one seems really sure. For all I know, the buildings and the airplanes were empty. At any rate, if they did so for any reason, the some-hundred million dollahs collected from all those people who kept forgetting that they donated already ought to cover it. And if it doesn't, the some hundred million evil corporations in that area should be able to provide some assistance.
There's all that "LETS PUT MONEY INTO THE ECONOMY!" gabbledebabblegyk. I'm not buying anymore than I usually would just because these dopes don't know when to stop putting floors on things. No structure needs 100 stories. That's ridiculous. I'm surprised they don't fall down more often. And then that Guiliana dope is going off about how people should go and see broadway thingers. Broadway being in any way a top priority is ludicrous, and if broadway goes out of business, that's only because broadway deserves to be out of business. If something is so unloved that the very format itself risks facing extinction, then maybe it should. When's the last time you heard anyone say "movies is in trouble?" Or "people, get out there and click those ad banners!" And I'm sure it must be great to know that the only reason people are coming in to see you dance around like a fool every night is because they pity your occupation.

Since I have no emotions, only the doubts of economical distress in the preceding do I have any disagreement with now. Anyone can see a problem there, and it would take a four day convention of suited white men with enough money not to be dependent on economies saying "the economy is strong" to trick me into thinking it is at this point. Still, I don't believe it's fair or remotely logical to blame a 3-dollar gallon of gasoline on me not wanting to watch fake people sing about their fake problems. I think I wrote the whole thing just to angrily glare at that one point.

The XFL and Whoopi shows were both doomed to fail when their premier episodes drew millions of viewers and NBC couldn't help bragging about it. Will my pointing this out in regards to that wretched pride program doom that failing to fail? Will my pointing out my pointing out reverse the reverse of failure destiny? Could this reverse reverse be reversed if I acknowledge that I pointed out what I had first acknowledged? Am I irritating you? Is your potential irritation thus reduced now that I have recognized how irritating I am? Am I going to keep doing this for the rest of the page?^*

Maybe the "pleasure [I] can't measure," but I certainly can measure the size of the bite this inhumane David Arquette-Bobcat Goldthwaite mixture took out of the candy. He's chewing at the moment, and yet his moaning can be heard a good ten seconds before he or his bite marks are visible, and a bite of that size could not be enjoyably chewed for such a prolonged period. So I am left thinking, not "Milky Way will solve all my problems," but instead "that guy with the Milky Way has problems." It is very possible that he has just finished and disposed of another milky way bar, but I gather from the shininess of Pauly Shore fan's forehead and also the presence of palmish plants that he is in a very hot area, and in the length of time his last moan lasted, such exposed chocolate would surely have initiated meltdown, yet that is very evidently not the case. I need answers! I demand satiation! Snickers no longer really satisfies me!

The latest movie I don't need to see is Mr. 3000, about an incredibly famous baseball player who successfully attacks a ball 3000 times and then retires. Then ten years later he's lived much of his life and gained much fame over that accomplishment when it is revealed that he only really hit the ball 2997 times. What? Why... that's nothing. So then I guess the government takes all his money away, leaving him no choice but to play baseball again until he can hit the ball some more times. But how can a seventy-five year old man who hasn't practiced or trained in a half-score years even be allowed onto a team again, let alone to play adequately? I don't know, but ten seconds later the ad shows the guy in a stadium wearing the appropriate uniform, so I assume it's possible. Eventually, having done so much in ten seconds he is an honored guest on The Best Damned Sport Show. <-(Period.)
I must just say that nothing ensures a movie's lasting place in our culture better than including actual contemporary institutions of questionable significance in it. There shall be no "Jock Chat with Todd Flengelton" for Mr. 3000. How could we make the audience believe in a major inernational athletish figure and related big news controversey we've somehow never heard about if they're not the subject of sports shows that we [I guess] have? It has a punctuation mark in its name, people! Five years from now, when this movie's on USA every weekend, that show's cancelled and suffering for eternity (on account of its being damned) and Tom Arnold lives with Michael Jackson in a self-sustaining houseboat stranded in the Indian Ocean, people will appreciate the efforts taken to date the movie umistakably in 2004.
Right. So.
Tom Arnold sez, the only emotion devoid hyperactive smiling way he knows how, and I don't remember exactly so I'll paraphrase:
"Dear sir, it is my sincere wish that you are not vexed by the trash my cohorts and I have been speaking regarding your esteemed person."
Mr. 2997 replies
"Knave, thou wouldst not even be where thine is 'tweren't for Lady Roseanne of Saltedhamshire"
OOOOOOOOOH.
Wow. Snap, ya'll.
I... I don't think that's a such controversial statement, really. First of all, it's true, everyone knows it, and Tom Arnold does not deny it. Tom Arnold likely hears that every day. His own mother probably says it. I'll bet he has a "Thanks, Roseanne!" bumper sticker on his car [and someday houseboat as well]. That's certainly more grattitude than you'll ever yerk out of John Goodman, and he only ever had to pretend to be married with Roseanne.

After three wood-striking-round object sound effects, I am forcefully reminded of the title and know: I do not need to see this movie. I do, however, see great business potential in marrying Tom Arnold.

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

What role does racism play in the black race winning the most races?

MAKING A DIFFERENCE
additional credit goes to paintshoppro's 'smudge' tool for obscuring the backwards S in the reflected neon budweiser logo of the bar I was in at 2:AM. Excuse me, PM.

additional credit goes to paintshoppro's 'smudge' tool for obscuring the backwards S in the reflected neon budweiser logo of the bar I was in at 2:AM. Excuse me, PM.

Apparently, someone does read this website. No, making a difference is not a sarcastic comment on the significance of the final thought (am I really that bad at it?). Rather, it is a sincere comment on the last time I didn't make sarcastic comments about the final thought. Conscious readers of page15 of the unnecessary archive may recall that I angrily denounced the use of a dialogue ballble to indicate a final thought. But wait, Molfarm!, I hear you saying. The Jerry Springer show runs in syndication and those were probably both reruns from different seasons whose graphic change decisions were made without so much as knowledge of your existence, let alone one of many mediocre pages you have made. By the way, those last few really First of all, Molfarm Duvalier was my ezzboard name which I haven't used in at least two years, and second of all shut up. Divider, do my bidding!

Never mind why they are proud, but why do budweiser and friends want me to KNOW how proud they are to have brought me the olympic I wasn't watching? Do they think I'll be proud of them for being so proud? Well... I'm not!
Ehhh!
One hopefully final ~~thought~~ thing before I'll be done with this subject, foolish be the fools who kept whining about the tape-delay of that which was aired! You would truly prefer to watch that spoff at 4:am? No one made you go online and look at what the results were. Don't blame technology for your inability to not use it. That's like blaming the fire-brigade-department for you setting your house on fire. Also, with all the "high definition" irrelevantry NBC has convinced itself is so great that the telling of I will count as bragging, I doubt they even used tape. So there.

It's at last time for the republican national convention. Yep, good ol' Repub-Con is finally here. Where all the big republican fans get together to dress up like Donald Rumsfeld and C-3po, and sell naked drawings of Richard Nixon with cat ears. I can't wait to go, especially since I hear Joe Quesada is going to be signing copies of the long awaited Hannity Vs. X-Men crossover (who would win? now we know!). See you there!

Largely created and enforced initially by bbs nerds who controlled all the typed telephone phoniship in the early '90s, internet slang had many years to develop into the most potentially-embarrassing-if-said-out-loud state. Even when i first started with internet communicating and knew nothing i thought the associated jargon was moronic. Rolling on the floor laughing? Are you really? Every single time you type that? Lamer? Newbie? I'm supposed to be offended by this? Hey, if I'm an idiot in an AOL chatroom willingly typing messages with letters I don't yet realize I could copy much faster off the character map and I think the words are dumb, then... you have every reason to doubt my judgement. Unless you are also in that chatroom and your name has a string of numbers in it.

I guess people don't say "newbie" anymore. You see, that was just a little bit too close to a proper English word and additionally just took so long, so they amended it to noob, but then the noobs became confused as to how not knowing how to post an image warrants being compared to one of the more elusive mortal kombat pallete swaps, so it eventually was changed to n00b. Yes, with zeroes instead of ohs. When a website that offers illegal software spells stuff like that, it's in an attempt to trick word filters used by authority groups which seek out certain letter combinations. Your online fan "community" can't begin to appreciate the hard work your forefathers did getting Along Came Pauly on the internet before it was even finished being filmed, and that looking like a twit while doing so was an unplanned bonus. Don't you see? It's part of their history, and for you to enfeeble yourself so casually is to mock their noble heritage.

Of the same vowelage but harder to trace to an actual word, I especially hate w00t. What are you, an owl? I will promptly feed all available mice to anyone who attempts to speak such a word-like-thing to me. Any of that, an honorable person would smite you for in person. Truly enough, I do not converse to real people (at all, usually) on the subjects of the proper bubbly thing to enclose thoughts or dialogue within or the ducks who've wronged me, but only because they lack relevance most of the time. If you could make w00t pertain to the situation I'd still want to taxiderm you for it.

so if I die you're going to rob my corpse? is that it?

If the only thing allowing me to survive until December is the expectation of being able to play Joust without spending 25 cents on it (like I'd play it twice), then I don't deserve to live until the next one. Especially since this only says "in December," so I'd need to wait eleven months to do it again. AT&T Wireless is a telephone service that doesn't use wires, I believe (AT&T being a telephone company and Wireless being the second half of the name). I also believe that, were it necessary, I could spare the five nickels to use a provider with more creative artificial enticement methods, or if I may be gwanted the privelege, none at all. Let's see, I could save myself half a half dollar and get harrassed by people at any time without permission, or save jopehundred dollars in yearly irrational charges and continue to not call people and additionally save five nickels again because it turns out that even if I liked Joust I'd never be able to find an arcade with that game in it. Do not be misled because explorer.exe's 'modified' column insists I saved this image at 12/2/2001, because I assure you I was sufficiently bored of Joust at reast 12 years before that.

Paul Schaffer sez:

It's not easy being a radioactive kwak addict. Allow me to clarify: I am a kwak addict who is radioactive. The kwak itself is not radioactive. Indeed, if it was, that would be easy, because then I would not need to eat so much medical waste to stay alive. I have to smoke the kwak anyway; how else could I come up with and be willing to sing songs night after night for the likes of Potatos or Gavin MacLeod, Trump or Monkey, Who's wearing Steve van Zant's socks, and Late Show Carbon Dating? While I'll probably never get cancer, I won't be able to grow any hair, either. That can be a tough choice in THE BIZ. Did you know Mr T has cancer? That's how he gets to have that mohawk. Surprisingly, no kwak is involved! As for the rumors that I am half goat, I do not think my lack of hoofs on my forelimbs and exclusive consumption of medical waste could render me as any greater than 30% goat.

''It's not pizza. It's a diseased pancreas!''

TV's Paul Schaffer

Note: The above message does not necessarily represent the thoughts or words of Paul Schaffer, but why take chances?

I will not eat them here or there, I will not eat them anywhere.

^*Maybe.

What?