I just washed it... five days ago!
Monday, February 21, 2005|
What's the deal with all the MC Hammer references? In the past months, the repugnant more recent computer fish movie, the potentially repugnanter talking horse movie, an advertisement for Nationwide insurance company and another advertisement for some fake soap have all made direct allusion to "U Can't Touch This," with varying levels of appropriateness. All this following a two year lull from the electric safety announcement featuring a talking squirrel. I'm not saying that making fun of MC Hammer is never funny, it just isn't when they do it, and if they all do it at once like they're summoning Captain Planet or something, then it is no longer funny when anyone does it. I actually saw Stephen Colbert, a person (which I don't hate) known to actually possess the capability to produce humor, make an MC Hammer joke not long ago and there was no hope of my receiving any artificial joy from that. That chance had been ruined by unfunny morons copying other unfunny morons exhibiting ironic condescence toward past icons with more legitimacy than themselves.
By the way, when "I love the aughties" comes around, no one will be remembering any of the commentators from earlier versions of that show, condescendingly or otherwise. They're more likely to say "hey, remember when we were all making fun of MC Hammer?" than "hey, remember when Kathie Griffin remembered the eighties?" And just for the historical documentation, you barely famous whores of the future were the ones who bought the Train album, not me.
Venturing back to the issue of the talking squirrel, it is not a main facet of the electricity safety production, and only shows up in the last two seconds when the creature appears to speak the final occurence of "can't touch this." This must mean surely either that the squirrel is a spokeserson for the financier of the public service announcement --nay, short film, or MC Hammer himself, having experienced more drastic effects from his slide from fame than we once realized. Otherwise, the rodent has no relevance to the message or the song, and the producers just like the idea of a talking squirrel, quite regardless of what it be telling us we can't touch [insert your own "his nuts" joke here].
I hate Christmas songs. Spiritual songs, ones which actually are about Christmas don't irk me to any greater extent than the ones for the rest of the year, and only lose additional points for taking precedence over other dull religious music. I'm aiming my acrimony in the direction of the ones written in the twentieth century whose goal was to gloat Jesusism without actually mentioning it. Ones that have simple, uninspired lyrics with repetetive, unimaginitive melodies that have no relevance to anything. Ordinarily stuff like that is relegated to intelligence inhibitive children's programming, but just because of a vague, largely unquestioned connection to Christmas they get played every year in every place on every day of December. Actually, a lot of them have no connection to Christmas. Jingle Bells doesn't even mention the stuff that other songs that don't mention Jesus mention, like Santa Claus or plants or snowmin*. And what the muriel is a belzonbobtel, and should I consult a physician if one starts ringing? This song has no reason to exist other than to convince members of my fourth grade music class that they can play the first seven notes of a song on their recorder-flute-things. It wasn't until a relatively recent point in its history that the song came to inform us of the circumstances under which The Joker eluded capture, and I'd say "too little, too late" if I was the sort of person who said that.
The Twelve Days of Christmas take about 45 minutes to conclude (their song does, I mean), and enlightens me not a bit in regards to anything other than that you singing it like to brag about weird things. I can't remember the last time I heard people sing this song, which would be dandy, except I can remember the last time I heard fictional characters sing it or real people sing different words to it. Neither is any more musically complex, any less long, or any good. I heard a few seconds of the muppet version last week**, which is the same as the normal one, except as sung by muppets. Like, duh. Of course, since there are about three people who say the words for every one of the original twenty muppets and estimated 300 expansion muppets invented the second Jim Henson's life ceased to forbid it, the audial result is not so impressive (although that decreases the total whoritude of their shared "True Love" somewhat). Who is it this time telling me about receiving a large shipment of birds? Is it Ernie, Kermit, that one with the glasses or just the guy who does their voices singing in his spare time?
But the thing that's the absolute worst, is that since copyright is not held on most Christmas songs, any talentless mope with the key to a recording studio is allowed to release a new album that's just that person singing the exact same songs we've already heard. Hey you. You didn't write the song, you sang it anyway even though it was terrible, you certainly didn't improve upon it, and then you got paid for punishing me with your non-accomplishment. But you knew that. Sometimes they'll give it a national anthem job, in which they arbitrarily stretch and whine-out certain notes, that being the extent of their skills, making them every bit as creative as a constipated estrous cat. If their band has a crumb of talent occasionally they will break for a very very slightly different instrumental portion, but it's little more than just the beginning of the song over again without the singing, as if that was the only thing wrong with it. Hey, you again: Either write a new song or violate a good one, but under no circumstances should a song about a radioactive caribou be allowed to go on fer four minutes. Or at least not that one. If you know of any others I'd love to hear them. Hear about them, I mean.
All right, I'm done.
*it should at this point be noted that the two songs I know of which mention snowmin do not mention Santa Claus or plants or, you know, Christmas)
That's news to me [three days ago]. I thought Michael Jackson had been ill since at least 1989. Also, note the phrase "fell ill." That's something usually reserved for historical reference to heroes who have just accomplished great feats. As in "Alexander III of Macedon fell ill before he could return from Asia" or "Ferdinand Magellan fell ill before his voyage was complete" or "Franz Schubert fell ill before finishing his eigth symphony." Michael Jackson, being King of the isolated republic of Pop in name only did not fall ill before jury selection, he got sick.
I do think excessive media coverage of the doings of celebrity trials is unfortunate, because it encourages people to take sides on positions that they are not provided with important details of, receiving instead unimportant or entirely assumed bits intending to titilate.
It's not even like Iraq war is good or bad idea-type issues, because the widely known bits of them are usually reported by people with some scant obligation to facts, scandalous or not. The people talking about Roberto Blake and Billhelm Cosby only have obligations to scandal, factual or not. Is it really relevant or fair to tell me that police found pornography in Michael Jackson's house? I've certainly found it in my house. Although you may consider it hypocritical of me to reveal this now, note that I've not told you to whom it belongs nor am I important enough for you to become interested in the possibility of it being my own (but I swear to you that it is not). Clearly, that was a horrible example. My point is, that, since the productions, sales, purchases and ownerships of pornography are all legal, this does not assist either side of the criminal case and it being revealed to a national audience only attempts to embarrass the figure about whom the information is. I've heard "Jacko was showing it to the children!" Hey! He probably was! But thus far you've only proven that he had it at all, and that's a thing lots of weirdos that don't molest children also have! Sometimes people need to be embarrassed, but that is when they are proud of dumb aspects of themselves. If it's over a thing they're trying to hide, through doing so they acknowledge its embarrassment factor, and if to reveal it helps no one, then why do it but out of a malicious desire to hurt feelings? I can't even imagine why anyone would find this a point of interest over an individual who is not shamed at all to walk around wearing a Spider-Man mask claiming duality with Peter Pan. But he put wine in a Coca-Cola can, thus betraying his brand loyalty, and called it Jesus Juice! Did he? Or did you just hear that he did? If I told you he made Emmanual Lewis do a square dance wearing naught but a smock made entirely of corn, then you would have heard that, too.
On a somewhat similar yet also somewhat different note, one so much so that it deserves a different paragraph, this Jeff Gannon story's details I don't think are necessary to describing the wrong which has been committed. The story is that people who work at the Washington DC Whitehouse pretty much planted, among journalists in search of facts, an artificial reporter whose task was to ask pre-approved questions that government folk had specially crafted answers for, so to get across their messages in their own ways without being pressed for the things they didn't want to say in addition to making it look like they're being all affable like. Is this more Jeph Ganaan's fault for accepting the ignoble job or their fault for creating it? That's hard to say, by me, but are the facts that Jeff used to have a different, funnier name (Jeff Ganondorf) and placed naked pictures of himself on the internet in any way relevant to this? They would be if anyone dared declare "because of this he could not possibly have had time to form opinions and develop writing skills so to be a legitamate news writer," but no one says that. Instead they say "hey, look at this naked guy on a bed and his stupid user profile! Snerk snerk!" I believe that he should be, to some extent, praised for wanting to get away from a past like that. I used to do some pretty embarrassing things on the internet myself. You might not even have realized that because I still do. But! If, in the future, I stole someone's Rotato and a box of marshmallow peeps... I would try harder than Jeff did not to get found out.
!But if I failed, it would not be fair for some raving kook like Air Amelica's Randy Jones to say over the course of fifteen minutes "not only did this doof steal a Rotato, look at this bit criticizing the reporting of the Jeth Ganäandorf incident! Oh, ho ho ho. So humorous." Even if they could prove I stole the rotato because I wrote this, the part about naked people does not help the situation. They rarely do.
Previously this image had been not present at the place in which I had summoned it. The fact must be understood, in times when this happens, that, when I first call for them, they appear, and it is only when you call for them that they run off and... they certainly don't run to me, though (or perhaps because) I possess the means to locate and discipline them once I become aware of their escape.
Back with another one of those block rockin' beats!
Wednesday, February 16, 2005|
A heard a song years ago which was attempting to sell some product which I have thankfully forgotten. The song, alas, I recall, and so that should go a way towards explaining why I have just now mentioned it. The song contained words like "Yes sir, that's my baby. No sir, I don't mean maybe." I don't mean maybe being a ludicrous phrase which was only invented to rhyme with baby, and that shouldn't be allowed. I couldn't find a single documented use of the phrase by anyone other than mediocre lyricists rhyming it with baby. ...but that's not even my major problem here. "No sir, I don't mean maybe." Did he really ask you if you meant maybe? I have a hard enough time believing this "sir" character is just approaching random people and inquiring as to whose baby they're lugging around, but then insisting that they might not be absolutely sure of the answer given is more indication of a need for psychiatric assistance than for the deed to be celebrated in song. And then "Yes sir, that's my baby now" As if you stole it from someone?
In the next line the interrogation only gets worse because sir either has an accomplice or gender reassignment surgery. "Yes ma'am, we've decided" Decided what? That it's your baby? Please stop talking to these nutsos! "No ma'am, we won't hide it" that has to be the rudest question yet. Like you've got Bat-Boy in the stroller or something. I know fully well that all human babies are revolting ugly, but I hardly advocate locking them in the basement usually. I consider this accuser hardly deserving of the politeness inherent in "ma'am." "Yes ma'am, you're invited now." Invited where? Why now but not then? But that's not even important. Hey, ma'am. No ma'am, you're not invited. You suggested that I might have not been forthcoming with all the information. That, perhaps, I might have meant maybe. Forget it! I bet you were planning to bring sir along, too. Besides that, a gossiping rumple like yourself knew you wersn't invited before you even asked, and this asking is your way of confronting me over not inviting you. You think you'll guilt pressure me into pretending I forgot to give you an invitation. Whelp, even if I did forget, I probably forgot because you're not worth remembering.
Son of The Mask, which somehow managed to not get cancelled despite a horrid year's worth of time since that first clip of the dancing computer-generated baby, is being displayed in theatres starting February 18 and potentially for some time after that. Certainly, if Dumb and Dumberer taught us anything, it's that making a sequel to a Jim Carrey movie without Jim Carrey is a good thing to spend money on.
Coming in 2006: Ace Ventura 3: Unnatural Selection (ha ha, get it?), starring Whoopi Goldberg.
I hate partypoker.net advertising and their badly drawn flash cartoon people. I don't draw them so well myself, but if I was getting paid to I'd at least do something to make you think I was trying harder. People wearing tuxedoes make me want to become them, commit suicide, and then become me again. I'm glad they aren't real, because that sounds hard.
Great Grimble, I'm tired of all this poker. I mentioned this before (search for "samurai" and quickly scroll down before that picture shows up), and hoped I would not again. I disappoint me. I thought for certain the pokering would be over by now, because every time it's been on television in my presence there's somehow been a championship tournament going on, and you can't very well have one of those each and every week, can you? It turns out you can. You might think that they would quickly lose any significance, but that would require that they had any to begin with.
I hate "Texas Hold 'Em." I don't know how that's better than any other kind of poking, but clearly the name is convinced it is very much so. It's played in Las Vegas, yet they still have to get all the Texas in there, like the scummiest place on earth wasn't despicable enough. I understand there are plenty of fine people who originated in or have found themselves for prolonged periods in Texas, but they're hardly the chief export (I cannot comment at this time on the allegations that this is instead steers and queers). Poker-folkers try to scare me with ultra masculine names like "Texas Hold 'Em" and Seven Card Stud and Omaha High and Flapjack Throwdown but all they make me think of are a bunch of men that look like Yosemite Sam smoking cigars and eating beans out of a can. Sometimes seperate cans. If that's not bad enough, know that Yosemite isn't in Nebraska or Texas. Texas Hold-'em. Wow. Sans Texas the game would only be called "Hold 'em," which is the answer to the question "my hands are hot, but where will I put my mittens if I take them off?" I just thought I should tell you.
This has gone far enough as to be too far (that far!), so far that the worst people in the world, the Compuserve news team, have now acknowledged poker. "It's fun. It's exciting." You couldn't just say "it's fun and exciting," you had to incorporate the phony dramatic effect so I would be too busy getting annoyed by that to realize you were lying.
Galloping greedy gimmies, members of my own family play poker now. Websites with "poker" in their urls have been accessed from my internet computer (even more worrisome, myspace.com, but that's not the topic of the moment). Poker is the same dumb game it's always been, that these same people have not given the least level of thought to for most of their lives. What about it is suddenly better now? At yet another unfortunate pass through Cafe de Gateway, I witnessed people engaging in poker. I probably wouldn't have liked them anyway, but now they'll never know. If the suddeness with which they picked it up, the immediateness with which they'll drop it and how serious they are about it (especially considering the Yosemite Sam factor) every second between those two points is making the Magic: The Gathering table look comparatively respectable, then I cannot trust that good forces are at work.
What is it about the toilet lending business that brings about such crude shenanigans?
Clay fighter, clay, clay fighter: Come on, fight them, if you dare.
The last day of the year-of-the-monkey, February 08, 2005|
I don't understand the telephone cameras, and why it is necessary that they be combined. If you step on one then you break both. This is similar to what happened with the multi-function scanner upon which I stepped, except I didn't use any of the non-paper scan features. But I hear (and hear and hear) that other people like to talk to impatient morons and take photographs also, so they'll be losing more powers than I did should a similar accident occur. Even though I hope one does, I'm not here to be spiteful today, so I won't mention that. I think, with the stepping on and the breaking of the dual purpose accouterments, is why the Get Smart Shoe-Telephone was such a great idea. Since one of its primary features requires that it be worn on a foot, it cannot possibly be stepped on by that foot. Also, if I accidentally call someone when trying to walk as opposed to accidentally calling someone when trying to take a picture (like I'd call anyone on purpose), the person whom I've accidentally called will think it's an obscene prank hearing the sounds of walking, instead of knowing it's just me being an idiot when I start saying "why it not make-a the picture? Eet ees-a so stupid!" Further, I won't unwittingly reveal my secret identity as a mild mannered pizza chef.
I have a huge file full of paragraphs and sentences that address certain topics, but not in such a complete way that I would consider it worth putting here. However, if ever I do get around to more adequately addressing the topic, it seems I quite often forget about my initial observation, as it was a couple of months previous (therest13, to your left) when I purchased a new computer screen.
The essence of entrapeneurship is creating cheap, affordable solutions to problems which don't exist. Are you confounded by lightswitches? Do you have reason to cut tin cans? Do you need your salad shot?
So I see the liquid crystal display (or LCD for you abbreviation enthusiasts) monitors in this category. They are smaller than what they wish to replace, and rumour has it they use less electricity, so why the bilco do they cost so much more money? Their displays are painful to look at and you can break the thing just by rubbing your finger on it, as an anonymous Circuit City employee informed me while he did just that. The devices must be Japanese. That's the only explanation. "From the folks who brought you Cube Watermelon and Iron Chef now comes Water Computer." It is their goal to eliminate any idea which can be expressed in a single word. I do not expect it was their intention that a new generation of nerds prematurely demanded Pokemon and Tomagotchies before they could be exported as Pocket Monsters and Love Eggs.
Not long after that, I had severe issues with Pepto Bismol's advertising campaign. Thinking back, it is possible my problem was not so much with the overacting of the afflicted, but the cruel overlord voice guy who, merely by saying DIAHREHHIA, makes those people have it. It's not nice. Wait, what's that?
NEW CHERRY PEPTO. NEW CHERRY PEPTO. NEW CHERRY PEPTO. NEW CHERRY PEPTO.
Weh-hew! What a song! You should take that number on the road! Preferably a one-way road with many pickup trucks approaching from the direction you aren't. Oh-ho, such a word mastery I have.
More stories from the Gateway Commissary:
Ah, Country Corn Flakes. Nevermind their Millsness' continued deviance exhibited toward the Kellogg rule, I was getting more than a little tired of all that urban corn, if you don't mind me saying so. That arrogant, devious, city-bred corn they grow on the roof of office buildings and apartment windowsills.
I think I'm hungry now. The hunger sets in.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Schokodenonkel, how many sound files do I have?
Beep!She's the only daughter I have yuhknow... that's why I wanna buy her the safest car I can gyet. You know what I mean?
No, Ernest, please explain further! Oh, what's that?
She's my only daughter.
Thank you for saying it a second time! Like if you had two one would be expendable? Good grievance. And listen to that pouting. You'd think daughter had gone out, gotten drunk and crashed it already. Hear the way that other guy just says "oh!" as if he's thinking that changes everything! I must contact headquarters and have them initiate plan B! I still don't know why he says "chicken" at the end, however. Maybe he's calling the other guy a coward for being so pouty and safe. Or maybe that's his way of saying "life, I give up," no doubts, his having interpreted daughterman's comments the same way I have, and can no longer understand existence, and so is reduced to screaming out the names of random birds, for he officially has no grasp of reality. If I discover any new information I'll keep you informed of it.
Such a truly terrible seed indeed. It grew these 1970's rollerskates instead of a plant!
|Pope Jabba the 3rd:||Imagine if this was bad seed on ice? Hey, since that pic has roller skates, would the bad seed be a roller baby?
|Volcabbage:||Is your name pronounced "po-pay?"|
I'm just reporting events as they happened.
I'm quite near officially out of space here. And no, I can't just reduce the font size and fill in the artificial page margins. It doesn't work that way. You fool. I thought I was out of space back in july or some such month as that, but it turned out a lot of that was occupied by wav files for the purposes of a "stupid sound page" from two years ago that I never actually linked to, so those could go. After they went, it took the number of months which have elapsed since then to fill the vacated area with stupid pictures (I like pictures) and words (not so much). And that's just at tripod.com. . The mistakes accessable from those links at the top of this page [but below the advertisement] have been on my cs.net space since about this time last year, and that's quite nearly full as well. I want to keep some room in there, just for the purposes of remote image linking, because I know, as long as Compuserve (for that is what "cs" abbreviates) people are getting paid for the internet connection, they won't [probably] terminate the account because I was remote image linking like geocities might. I don't know the official policy on insulting their welcome windows, however.
Because it tastes bad! Wh0oo0o0oo0o0oo0o0oo0o!
There are several options. Yes. The first would be to not write things to put on the internet anymore. This would save you the guilt of reading it, and also google and msn-searchers the false hope of finally thinking they've found the play with barney and fred with bobsled homepage. The second would be to put all new things at some other lousy free space provider. The third is a secret. The fourth would be to have a... nih, livejournal and one of those pigshniggelt photobucket accounts (not that I should expect any level of quality from something only one level up from a pail). The fifth would be to actually pay for webspace, the thought of which always horrified me, but I seriously doubt those ads generate more than 15.3 cents in revenue per year, so it can't be too bad. I probably just hate the idea of using real money to [attempt to] entertain up to four people. I'll let you know when I've decided. Who else would I tell?
The meek shall inherit nothing but what is left to them in the wills of the already dead meek.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005|
Attention gullible fatsos! Is eating your weight in yogurt not getting the job done? You might not be aware that breathing could be making you gain weight. The solution? Stop breathing, or buy
DIET AIR. Unfortunately, regular air is all around us, but that doesn't mean you have to ingest it exclusively. As few as 200 bottles contain sufficient Diet Air to fill most small closets. If for some strange reason you'd rather not live in a closet from now on, for the low, low price of 600 worthless greater american dollars, you can purchase your very own Diet Air brand deep sea diving suit. Simply fill the oxygen tanks with Diet Air, wear the suit and breath away! I guarantee people will be surprised by your new appearance.
|Oprah Seinfeld:||Wow , Diet Air looks like Diet Urine .|
|Volcabbage:||How do you know the urine it resembles is the diet kind?|
Clark Kool-aide:||I don't , it says "diet" so I guess that would make it diet urine. Duh?
|Volcabbage:||...but surely you agree that it also says "air!"
I suspect these all may be the same person
|Most certainly. So if it is air, and diet, and looks like urine, then if I smashed a bottle of it , the whole place would smell like diet urine in the air?|
It's probably a good thing that I don't know how to implement a "leave comment" system.
Not long ago I realized why the
alt title tags weren't showing in my Netscape: The "enable tooltips" box in the preferences section wasn't checked, and it would seem that has some say in the matter. Why are they called tooltips? That certainly isn't the html code I'm typing to make one. Besides that, what I say doesn't even meet the requirement for "tip" in the Gamepro Protip sense of the word, and pictures are not tools unless you're being annoyingly literal, in which event the menubar is also a tool, and I'm not allowed to give tips for that which could be hidden by de-approving the tooltip square. Why must they be enabled at all? It seems to me that since they are hidden normally anyway, I think I am enabling each one individially when I make my mouse pointer go towards them. If I didn't want to see them, I wouldn't point at them!
I'm actually going to get annoyed at an advertisement still getting shown. And now.
A television studio made up to resemble a photography studio
Sudden, all of a, some vagabond in the background opens a bag of new Lay's Cheddar and Sour Cream potato chips (applause).
- New Lay's Cheddar and Sour Cream potato chips (the star)
- An unnamed, autistic camera-using person, who absolutely cannot take a picture of a subject who has not said the word "cheese"
Timmy, who will not say this word
This just sounds odd to me.
First of all, "get your smile on," what does this mean? I will tell you what it is telling me. It is telling me either to locate my smile, grasp it, and place it upon a part of myself, which is bad, or that I should get my smile on, in a "isn't this hip-hoppity grammar system just so very" kind of way, which is worse. And then there's "work it, Timmy. Yeah. Oohhh." I realize they're selling Lays, but I still find it somewhat bothersome. It should be addressed that "Timmy" looks to be not aged more than eight years (few Timmies survive long past this). Admittedly, through all my travels I never quite figured out what "work it" meant, but I do know that it's never said by someone who isn't a creep. It's sort of like "no comment," except that I know what that means. Here's an example: When asked why he was saying "work it" to the eight year child he was photographing, the photographer responded "no comment."
Even if, as is always possible and frequently probable, I have the wrong idea, what person, who desires phonily posed pictures of children in clothes they would never wear, wants to see them with Orange Stuff (scientific term) all over themselves, clutching a merving bag of chips?
"Oh, and here's fat little Timmy. He won't do anything if you don't feed him first. He's like a trained walrus without the marketable talent."
He's stealing all the world's chocolate... and turning it into brussel sprouts!
Democracy's finest day, January 20, 2005|
You're right, scary Denny's employee. That does look like a smile. A bleeding, recently toothless smile. The kind that probably lacks the ability to eat anything more solid than what you happen to be selling. Brilliant! The kind of smile you or one of your coworkers may suddenly find yourselves with one day if you keep up that attitude and be shoving Denny's platters in people's faces all the time.
|Scooby Sinatra:||It looks more like a sideways Vagina . Yummy.|
|Volcabbage:||It's probably difficult to get them to stand upright on the plate.|
Why didn't I post this when I wrote it two years ago? Ehhh, well, I'm posting it now, to commemorate the release of the latest horror from Germany, Heidenseke, which, while its name doesn't begin with The, it made me remember having written that down there, so it's probably every bit as predictably predictable. If it isn't, at the very worst that will be your problem, because it certainly isn't mine.
The Cell? Oh well. The Others? Oh, brother. The Ring? Let me tell you something. If it has a two word title (just for the sake of my non-argument, let's pretend sixth-sense is one word hyphenated), the first of which is "the," I'm not scared of it. Oh, wow. People sitting in chairs facing away from the camera! Are they dead, or is this one of the mandatory anti-climaxes? Whatever it is, you'd better turn that chair around really fast! Ha ha ha, it was a normal person! Wouldn't I be stupid for thinking it would be a monster even though it was the director who intentionally hinted otherwise and we're only ten minutes into the movie!
Uh-oh, kids who "see" things but don't tell anyone unless asked very specifically, and even then are extremely vague!
"Who did this?!"
"It was her."
"WHO IS SHE?!"
"She shows me things."
Etc. etc. etc. ECCH. SCARY!
But no! Say 'tisn't so! Split second montages of random bizarre imagery! Even if they can't give us bad dreams, they can give us epileptic seizures!
Hey! What does microphone held close to its own output speaker do? SOUNDTRACKS!
If you can't be creative, by Otis, be loud!
Ehhh... On a related topic, the dvd for The Ring urges people to rush out and buy a copy of "Ringu" the Japanese film which "inspired the scariest movie of the year!" What it is essentially is The Ring, except with Japan and thus instant nerd appeal. I just thought I'd tell you.
I was thinking earlier this week about the Yule Log, the television channel that shows the domestic fire and plays somehow mediocrer versions of christmas songs that were meritless to begin with. I was thinking, wouldn't it be funny* if I made some mock-up picture of the box for Yule Log, Complete 3rd Season DVD!. While doing my usual investigation to make sure no one on the known, popular, first-fifty-google-results internet had already had a similar idea, I discovered not only that yes, someone had, but that more startling, it wasn't even necessary.
*Probably not, but we'll never know now
This is a real, totally non-ironic thing you can buy. I suppose it's a real thing that we can buy, but I wouldn't. Would you?
I thought you might say that.
Smoking is so five minutes ago. Keep up with what's in, and keep cigarettes out.
This isn't an anti-smoking message; it's a pro-trend awareness message. You should only do smoke when that's a popular thing to do, so pay attention, lest you should miss your next chance. To think you were off by less than six minutes. If popular kids like Kool and the Gang offer you cigarettes, by all means, go ahead. They wouldn't be popular if they didn't keep up with what was in, would they? One of them is named Kool, and not only is that one letter away from cool, it's actually a brand of cigarette, so you can probably get them cheap if you join the gang. Low prices are always in. Only stop smoking if Walmart goes out of business.
Smoking is great.