A wholly needless, I expect, link to the main page.
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Sunday, last day of July. 2005 |
I've been dying to make an apron
AOL advertisement! Yes, you're as excited as I am. There are a bunch of extra-type-actors inside lidless cardboard boxes pretending to type on fake keyboards to create the impression that there a lot of people working very hard at America OnLine headquarters and not just one gork throwing the occasional lever.
A human enters the region, and speaks, and sounds suspiciously like the bride of chuckie with a speech impediment: "Ghghello. I hear AOL is helping protect me a-gainssst I dent it e theft?" I have to wonder whither from she heard that, because I didn't hear AOL was protecting her until that ad came on with her in it. Maybe that's why she phrased it as a question. "I hear that? Do I, truly?" Since AOL staff is used to dealing with Taco Bell borderline retarded people since the Belindi incident (which I'm never linking to again), and for the most part is, itself, rather than saying "who are you?! Shut up, don't tell me. Get the hermaphrodillo out of here!" the actor portraying the floor's greeter starts talking about AOL giving "spyware protection." You know, the sort of thing that you can get for free all over the internet from people who don't have a kevlar vested interest in making sure spy-ware doesn't disappear entirely. It seems like the group really profitting from the existence of spying programs is not the spiers so much (though I still invite them to choke on a bowl of bricks) , but rather companies like AOL and others I don't want to know the names of that would charge money to guard people from things they shouldn't have to be guarded from, if ads like this one work at all. Ehhh.
So then whatsherface offers forth her famous apple crumb cake. Another issue, have I. Hey, Ms. You.
Either the cake isn't famous, or it isn't really yours, because I've never heard of you. As evidenced by three of the past four sentences, I still don't know what your name is. However, now that I think of it, I don't know of one famous apple-crumb cake, you regardless, and apples don't even have crumbs, so I doubt you could make a cake from them.
At the same time my reprimand is managing to be not heard,
some cubicle mole (with a bit of rat blood, judging by the overbite) protrudes from one of the boxes and pronounces, in a very situation comedy "I have long since grown bored with the almost certainly intentionally wacky goings on in the world around me" kind of voice, "I smell cake." And I just know there was an audition for that part. "Yes, just look over there and say 'I smell cake.' No, solly, I detected a bit of despair in that. You sound too much like someone who actually has one of those jobs. Could we get someone with bigger teeth?"
There's something of the same type from another evil business, but perhaps not quite as evil, for the ad hasn't been on enough times for me to recall the business's name or have polluted more of what little remaining hard drive space I possess with the noises it makes.
Ehhh, so. Another human I'm supposed to identify with but don't enters some big white TV mental-institution type of room which has a large bomb-shelter-looking vault at the back. The human woman carries some kind of briefcase-purse hybrid and sets it down on a desk behind which lies one of the most snively-looking men I've ever seen. Woman begins to describe all the junk she stuffed into the bag-box-bagox and man interrupts with his summarization "your identity." The guy says "identity" like his mouth is making sex to it or something. "I-deh-theh-thae" ugh, I want to dismantle his neck and choke him on his own idehthehthae (which no doubt he's tried many times). I almost think the actors are instructed specifically to say this word slowly because their desired gullible, unquestioning customer is too dumb to understand most words that big.
I want to call out to first person: "why would you put your "identity" in a bagox and into a safe which you'd need to go through that loser to get to? That's like shaving off your hair and cryogenically freezing it so it doesn't turn gray or start to fall out on its own (the snively man looks like he's done just that. Whore): It doesn't make sense. Unless you were planning on stealing someone else's identity. Or hair.
Eem, my mother has a box containing various documents of personal familial informations, but never once called it "our identities." That is because no one says the word "identity" unless they're talking about Justice League members or are referring to the buzz phrase "identity theft," of which identity is one half. Identity theft being yet another problem I believe was created and put in use entirely by the fake internet businesses which naturally kept an antidope handy while developing it. I'm suprised there isn't a TM after it.
AOL's not done with Identity Theft:
By the wayside, if those files aren't loading or aren't audible, please tell me, because I'd love an excuse to stop recording them.
Spamemail does not cause identity theft™. "Identity theft™" is not a force of nature or a disease that can happen without the involvement of a malicious person.* Saying spam causes identity theft™ is like saying leaving your door unlocked caused a burglarly or singing School House Rock songs caused a murder. Actually, I'm still deciding that last one, but definitely the burglarly comment is a suitable example. People's naivete and ignorance, which make them fall for the dipthong schemes in certain e-mail, however, permits identity theft™ of that nature to occur. When the US government brigade said "loose lips sink ships," I don't think it actually expected or intended for anyone to believe that their lips, if not regularly adjusted with a wrench or screwdriver, were going to fly off their mouths and puncture the hull of an aircraft carrier in the Pacific Ocean somewhere.
Propoganda is the most appropriate word for the type of advertising America OnLine and others but mostly them employs. Rather than even saying "AOL protects you from identity theft and viruses," it hires actors to say "I hear AOL is protecting me from eye-den-tit-tee theft and viruses and saving our kids from ped-oh-files and clowns. THANKTH FOR BLOCKIN' 'UM!" Ha ha ha, I'm so stupid I thought I was saying that! Aol only "protects" people from these things because that's more lucrative than, and only can at all because it's not: educating them to protect themselves. That's why, in addition to talking down to customers, it likes to portray them as so dumb, that a baby hitting random keys, merely by willingness to experiment, is a more capable computer user. I know that was from last year, but the passage of time doesn't make it good. As long as I'm here, I defy you to prove the same isn't true for wine. Oh yes, this 200 year old snake squeezin tastes so remarkable I almost imagined for a minute that I wasn't a snobbish twit. Oh, ah ha ha ha ha, droll. I can scarcely believe I tasted it at all with my nose clenched the way to get my voice like this, and yet I did. Oh yes. This is what happens when I upload things immediately after writing them instead of considering their potential faults for a few days. Oh yes.
I received another free AmericaOL trial disk in May month. Unfortunately, I had already rendered the packaging unreadable to my camera-device by the time I got to writing this, but it said in one place "New Features Included!" Such as what? Every new version is always "loaded with new features!" but never have I ever heard what any of them are. Anyone but a moron trained to be a moron would want an explanation for this. All right, let's say Americola, after ten-plus-more years in business, finally got around to blocking the mass e-mail it claimed it had been blocking from the very beginning: That's not a new feature. That's an old feature finally implemented. And it's only one. "Features," being the plural form of "feature," indicates more than one. "Improved e-mail," although listed, is not a feature either, unless, that is, the explanation for how it has been improved, which also doesn't exist, cites some type of new function. Another one mentioned, AOL Instant Messenger is free for users of any internet, and the fact that its name contains the letters of a pay service does not grant the pay service the right to claim the free service as a reason to subscribe to the pay service. That would be like a public television station offering contributors of $35 or more the right to continue watching the pledge drive instead of getting a "free" umbrella. Or perhaps "sign up for the Microsoft Network and you get to drink water!" It's very possible we'll hear that someday, but for the moment that's an absurd statement.
In summarization: You belong at Amelica OnLine. And women belong at the kitchen (making apple crumb cake), black people belong at The Ghetto, Nicaraguans belong back in Mexico, Wonder Bread belongs in your shopping cart, EVERYTHING WILL BE SWELL.
*This is, if you believe that destroying forests and releasing poison gasses into the atmosphere never alters the world climate so that weather cycles change or that overbreeding certain favored species and/or introducing them to different countries without the same bacteria immunities never causes other species to extinctify due to their lack of such immunities or the absence of food caused by the new species' eating it or the altered climate not producing enough of it.
I saw a really stupid advertisement again. When will they stop? There's some guy at a press conference looking place talking about cancer and such. I guess it's Lance Armstrong, the bicycle guy and former ensync member. They should call him Lance Legstrong! On account of legs being used to operate bicycle pedals instead of arms!
Er. At the end, the scene disappears and all that's visible is the phrase "just do it." Just do what? Get cancer? Wow, great advice. Is that what you're selling? Discount cancer? People need to know that they can easily get cancer for free, just by doing anything enjoyable. Mip, and there's also a Nike logo. As you know, the Nikeians got out of the shoe business years ago to more fully devote themselves to showing random twizzle that makes no sense, which is also produced by Asian children in sweatshops who can't afford their own services, believe it or nyet. Hey, and great job, Nikey, for showing, on paid spots, your devotion to Rance after he'd already won the game six times. Hey, if you hurry up, and I don't want to be one to speculate, but that Mark Spitz looks like a real winner.
I hear that organized Captain Krump dancing, in addition to looking totally random, unrehearsed and unimpressive, is a great alternative to gangs and drugs. But you know, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes are great alternatives to gangs and drugs. And you'll live longer dealing with the two proven killers than you will having a standing-seizure in an alleyway and banging your
lateral geniculate nucleus against an extended fire escape and then blindly stumbling into a chainsaw juggler. It's true, I read it on the internet. Bimshwel.tripod.com if you don't believe me.
Yimpinkilp, is the choice really so simple like that?
You know, I was all ready to go out wandering the streets looking for people to shoot bullets at, but then I remembered, no, I can just wear clown make-up and spin around instead. I knew I was required by law to do one or the other, and wouldn't you know it, I couldn't find my gun. That's like claiming online Tic Tac Dough is a great alternative to throwing babies out of thirty-seventh story windows. Maybe, just maybe it is, but what isn't? Eating the babies after they land?
Anyway, all these claims have been for naughting, as enterprising individuals have found ways to combine both gang warfare and clowning.
Can't anyone beat G.I. Jogger?
Aw, HOWDADEAL. With what? Nothing; it's a documentary film about playing-card distribution. I can see you're disappointed, but I can give you a few tips, a lesson in dealing for non-dealers: Lean uncomfortably, insert hands into pockets, only look at things using peripheral vision. You'll be so busy getting headaches, falling over, and getting worse headaches from that, you'll completely forget about your insignificant angsty Blogspot University fake love. You may even delay your unwanted, easily preventable pregnancy by a few weeks.
My mother's sneezes actually sound like the words "bless you." No deity's approval is implied.
Oh, wow. Oh, wow. Wow. WOW. BLIG BLUG BLARGGHE! A few weeks ago I said that when I made the list at the left, I forgot to include Belindi. That is true. However, when I did add it, I gave it completely the wrong link, one that was already on the list. Further, when I mentioned that I was adding it, I gave it the same wrong link. Even as I was correcting them just now one still tried to be wrong. What the myrtle is wrong with me? It's bad enough that I can't come up with new material (other than this sort of thing, which doesn't count, although I shall pretend it does); don't I at least deserve to be able to accurately point out old material?
Wednesday, for a few choice hours on Thursday of two weeks ago, and possibly again since then, some people have regretted that the Olympic goings on that don't-matter-at-all-to-a-slightly-lesser-extent-than-the-other-Olympic-goings-on would not be coming, the time after the next one, to this country I am confined within. Usually, I'd criticize them for wanting to watch that kind of gark at all, and for pretending for a moment that the place where it occurs makes any difference upon its watchability, and further that it would be a positive difference. What's wrong with you naive losers.
I don't see why New Yok City was even in contention to be burdened with Olympic rights. "Teams" are alotted one per nation, and the one that New York is in actually did Olympic stuffs back in 1996. Considering that there are about seven other competing countries that are allowed to win medals, and the olympic bric-a-brac occur every four years, United Statia has no right to whine about this issue until about 2020 or something. Even if my logic is flawed, which it isn't, need I remind you of what happened the last time Olympic came here?
I hate to digress, but the page for this game probably isn't getting made, so:
If we are to assume that any gender not specified, or rather, blatantly underlined, with exaggerated lips, eyelashes, and head-mounted ribbons, is male, then that's the gayest torch I've ever seen. Thus ends the digression.
The Evil Spaniard Duke Valdez knows your sister's whereabouts!
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Item 1: I don't “read.” If I were to start, I would not do so during summer. That's why I got out of third grade. But if ever I was forced at ballpoint to do so, at the time when the air temperature is at its highest naturally occurring levels, why would I seek out something that was, itself hot? That seems counter-intuitive.
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Object 2: Thank you for reminding me of something I'd less like to look at during summer than a book.
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Article 3: I don't know, Bat-Man? This is the third time I've mentioned Bat-Man in a month, but I only did so because he begged me.
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Exhibit D: What's that mean? You bumped into the pile and they fell over?
- Volume V: Great gimpity, this entry is unfunny.
Why do the few Amelicans who talk about the Tour de France pronounce France as it is in English? If you're going to say "tour de," then say Fronss as well. Come on, that's an easy one, and it doesn't sound too dumb. There aren't even any "vous" in it.
I heard a song I hated a couple of months ago. I heard it again a weekish length period after that and didn't hear it again. I still hate it.
"Don't that always seem to go?" WHAT?! We've just started, and already you've lost me.
"That you don't know what you got tillit's gone." Like your grammar skills, right? It's hard to say whether the bad grammar is a result of the singer being an idiot or the writer of the original song this is a remake of being an idiot, but to even desire to remake it in an in any way similar fashion would also make one an idiot, so this issue is irrelevant.
"They pave Paradise, and put up a parking lot." That's the chorus part, by the way. It is repeated throughout the song. No other examples of "[them] [not] know[ing] what [they] [had] [un]til [they no longer had those things]" are given. The line might as well be "you don't know what paradise you got until it's a parking lot." That would even rhyme, in addition to saving the time and effort of saying the next line, which would now be totally obsolete.
Parking lots aren't even put up. They are left down. If the singer was referring to a multi-level parking garage, he ought to have specified this.
Note also that the man says A parking lot, but not A paradise, which means there is only one paradise, und so I can only replace it with a parking lot once. However, the previous line (the original inefficient one, not mine), suggests that this is "always" happening. Perhaps paradise is relocating and being repeatedly replaced by parking lots, in which case, clearly, someone DOES know what [they] got, and does not mind losing it, even going to so far as to intentionally re-lose it after finding it again.
Perhaps, perhaps, I've misunderstood, and the lack of an A before "paradise" is attributable to the grammar skill deficiency mentioned earlier. But still, there is a long way between a paradise and parking lot. If you demolished a rollerdisco, for example, you might think the parking lot remaining once the rubble has been cleared is worse, but you'd never say "aw ban, that rollerdisco was heaven-on-earth." If you would have said that, then you're probably from the 1970s and too old to effectively dance and rollerskate at the same time by now anyway.
I was thinking, maybe paradise does not refer to a divine place of mirth and merrymaking, but rather establishments which have "paradise" in their names. Paradise Toyota and Package Store (off exit 35), Paradise Nail Salon and Things Which Need to Have Small Bits of Dirt Scraped Off of Them (in the Christmas Tree Shops plaza), Paradise Sporks, Spleens 'n Spatulas (behind the White Castle), Paradise Oil Barrel and Novelty Lighter Supply (formerly Chuck E. Cheese), and those already have parking lots.
The song continued after that, but I don't remember any else of it. Nor do I wish to be reminded.
The song should not be banned; I don't believe in censoring art attempts, because that makes the people who consider those things to be art even more self-righteous and whiny, und so I propose that people who like the song be banned instead. If you're one here right now, you probably also understand that someone who'd read this website is even more contemptible and bannable.
Let it be recorded on all the Etch-a-Sketches™ across the land that when I stated I that I should have something prepared for "tomorrow," I specified neither a "today," from which the tomorrow would be extracted, nor where the something was to be displayed at the appointed tomorrow. But truly, it was mostly available at the time when it claims to have been, but I was nowhere to be found. And then, when I found me, it turned out that my telephone wires had been disabled again. So.
And the Hamburgler is the smartest of us all, for he knows which way the wind blows without using a weathervane.
What the gimple is so great about the fantastic four people? I thought The Bat-Man was supposed to be better than them. One reason for this, I've actually heard The Bat-Man mentioned by ordinary citizens, outside promotion for his films.
I only know the Fantastic Four from this (as in, that one right there) really stupid Marvel cookbook I had for who-knows-why when I was sevenish years old. I remember two items specifically: someone (possibly Thor) flies across the page holding a red-and-white striped open-ended cylinder labeled "Bucket o' Chicken." I wish more cookbooks could be so honest: "Why bother? Just go to  kfc, lardo," it stops short of saying. At this point, another character comments "I hope you brought napkins!," because superheroes can't speak sentences that end in periods.
The other item I recall, the one more relevant, featured a recipe for The Thing's meatloaf or meatballs or meatdoughnuts or something with an unspecified meat in it. "Serves two: Thing and you!" But now that I think about it, that could just as easily have been "Serves two: Hulk and you!" So I might not even have heard of the Fantastic Four, at all. I have heard of The Bat-Man, though.
Yet I saw a lot less (comparatively) pertaining to his recent cinemal exploits. On that comparative lack I don't complain, because the more I know the less I want to know. Who are all these 4 favoring advertisements targeting? I have yet to hear a real person say "gee, I'm really interested in the Fantastic 4. Please tell me more. Help me open this drawer. I dreamt I was, at the same time, both Eva and Zsa Zsa Gabor."
It is true that one day after Saint Jean Baptiste Day I raised the issue of a scene of some nerd in an elevator machine, in connection with that Bat-Man, but that was the only one I saw, and not more than once per day. For the fantastic bores (ha ha) however, it is varied and incessant. By some intentional coincidence, the one I hate the most is also from a telephone company. Hey, remember when they made telephones instead of me hate movies I haven't seen?
Right, so some woman is at a bar or something using her tabletop computer to watch the fantastic 4 preview, as if I didn't have enough reasons to hate people who go to those places. The only other person in the whole place, including both customers and employees, approaches the computer and says something I forgot. Woman totally ignores man, despite the fact that they obviously broke in together. We cut back to the computer, and see, on its screen (on our own screens), a part of the preview in which a woman is turned into not visible (and by some miracle, her clothing and camera makeup are as well) The one using the computer then says, without moving her mouth, "I wish I could become invisible." You, you're so much more ambitious than I am. I wish I could leave my home to go to bars in the afternoon to watch stupid movie previews in non-maximized windows with various static logos on them with my computer while at the same time rudely shunning anyone who dares speak to me.
Also, how convenient for the filmmakers that the computer-using woman nerd only desired the attributes of the one female character. If she said "I wish I could turn into fire and fly around," then, by Marduk, we'd have a problem. Them broads gotta know their places.
Ugh. Fantastic Faw.
What's the deal with their inconsistent names? They attempted to coordinate their costumes, but there's no theme to their titles. That's what I call a fantastic flaw. Oof. Would it have be too much to ask to rename The Human Torch to The Flammable Man? Or rename The Invisible Woman (or "Invisible Girl," depending on your source's belief in the final sentence of the previous paragraph) to The Human Invisible Object? One of them is actually called Mister Fantastic. How's that make the others feel? Not only is his likely self-appointed name a compliment, but then he went and named the group after himself. Or maybe he's such an uncreative loser that he named himself after the group. Either way, I hate Mister Fantastic. The question is: should he be renamed to The Unlikable Man or The Human Doofwad? I know the other two would get even less respect than they do now (though still more than they deserve) if they were known as Mister Fire and Missus Can't-Be-Seen.
The Thing... I have no problem there. It, that thing, that thing, that thee-eeyeeying doesn't wear the shirt with the 4 logo, and so is not constrained by the rules. Thing shouldn't even be considered a member of the group. The other 3 should be relabeled accordingly.
Wait, isn't Doctor Doom also in that movie? They should try to get Doctor Doom to join them. A doctor is always good to have around, and then the thantastic three could all become doctors.
All right, I'm done.
I detail this sort of thing a lot, but no one's complained yet. No one's praised it either, but I'm used to that by now.
I believe it was my own mother who remarked that Heineken tasted like urine. Or perhaps it was Rolling Rock; that also comes in a green bottle. Or possibly Bud Light; that's also beer. Ehhh, I don't drink it.
But I think if Heineken tastes like urine, why not just drink urine. It's cheaper, more plentiful, and renewable. You may actually find that it renews itself.
Even knowing these facts, the company which makes it continues to advertise Heineken beer. Most recently with this weird heart-monitor/lie detector beeping green line thing which I swear came on at least once in every commercial break that occurred in my presence Friday, but even before that and yet not very long ago was another, in which an unruly gang of superheroes discuss inducting a new member.
despite that, from as far as I can tell, they brought the man to their secret lair, or at least invited him, they seem unsure of why, and demand a demonstration of his powers. He then produces a shoe from off camera. Your first thought on reading that might be that someone who fights poverty by distributing magical footwear to those who cannot afford it would not make for interesting brightly colored, rectangle-contained reading material, but there's more. The man then touches the shoe with the hand not holding it, and the shoe becomes a bottle of heineken beer. Making shoes is not his power; I called up the director and it turns out the man has merely removed his own shoe from his own foot. We are meant to focus on the beer. Still, I have problem.
One bottle of heineken costs what, one-dollar and forty cents, maybe? Less than two dollars, surely. Shoes, by the pair, typically cost, for no known reason, $50 or more. One single shoe, considering 1) the 50% reduction in quantity and 2) the 90% decrease in functionality (unless you're a one-legged person who walks with an artificial limb, but you'll do whatever you're told and probably put a shoe on your fake leg anyhow), perhaps that one shoe is down to $12.50. That's still more value than one bottle of Heineken beer. Maybe if this guy made full Heineken bottles from nothing, or even from empty Heineken bottles, he'd be getting somewhere, but as it is, it seems like a limited talent. Even if it works with any shoe, even one you found in a dumpster, 1) you're not going to find enough to justify the effort and 2) you just looked through a dumpster. The man didn't say any sort of magic word while causing the transformation to take place, so that means it probably happens automatically, and that means he needs someone else to put on, take off, and tie the laces attached to his own shoes. So now it's not even a super power, and rather a super handicap. Maybe if he hid under a trapdoor, and then when a super villain walks by this guy reaches out, touches a shoe and suddenly an explosion of broken glass bursts forth from Turner D Century's bare yet now wet, foul smelling and adhesive sock (due to the beer, I mean), and then the evil mastermind slips, falls down and suffers momentarily incapacitating injuries from both the impact with the floor and the broken glass, allowing for easy capture. Shoe-to-beer Man thinks he's got it easy, until
The Cavalier shows up, whose Air-Rumpelstiltskin brand boots are impervious to the power. Is this the end for our hero? I should write comic books.
I was thinking, of how a few pages back, right around the 20 vicinity, i posted some queer message boxes in which someone using corny names like Scooby Sinatra and Conrad the Bainebarian made similarly corn-like comments. I don't know if I made this clear at the time, but those actually happened. It was not just me talking to me. I did not conceive of them by my own abilities.
And now a correction:
After the forgivable comics and horrid comments (comments which I did make) in the umiliphus section, there are a couple of "bonus" pages filled with unkind and unfair assessments of other people's comics. Comics that they made viewable for no cost, entirely for the enjoyment of anyone. I'm not going to apologize for that. I'm here to make a correction, recall. At one point, I thought to display a series of peculiar instant-messages, in which a strange person known only as RUEXZ (ruke-siz)
accuses me, not just of additionally making the comics attributed to a "Deccus," but of being named Justin as well. I can live with that, for I presented it in such a way as to make that rukesiz appear, I feel, quite silly. But later, the actual Decco wafer denied, first not knowing the rueing one, and then being named Justin too. This was over a year ago. I probably should have mentioned it.
When I made the list at the left a few months ago, I forgot to include Belindi.
If you forgot to read it the first time, now comes your opportunity to intentionally not read it.
Usually, I hate livejournals. I loathe them. Just like Geraldo Rivera loathes ped-oh-feeliya. They make me want to make other people die. But sometimes they surprise me.
Still, don't go making a habit of this.
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eight more days 'til Christmas in July, July 02, 2005 |
I like my cinema gritty. I like my eggs gritty.
Me typing it wasn't enough for you? Don't risk losing me by giving me a chance to reconsider! Waste my time not, lest I should seek my worship elsewhere!
At last. The whole world has waited years for bimshwel's opinion on the display of ten commandments, and finally I shall oblige them. They may thank me later. Or even right now, if they're not busy.
I think the display of them commandments in government buildings, –considering the stating of church and separation– is inappropriate, but it doesn't hurt anyone. Their origin is religious, but the message isn't, except for the parts about not having strange gods before me and not taking the normal god's name inside a van. Eight-out-of-ten is a decent ratio. Even if it isn't, to fight against this helps no one. You might think “ginseng, I'd like to dance a jig on the larynx of whoever insisted this be here and then acted offended when told why not to,” but I don't believe preventing you from doing that will endanger your life, or if it would I believe there are more practical methods for defending yourself. I think better and broader "not-to-do" lists exist or can be made, but they d/won't include any rules that aren't obvious to people that aren't beyond help anyway. "What? I'm not supposed to murder? I'm glad I saw that list! Let me put this machete away. Rape's still good though, right?" The govern force's Commandment-bi-slab enthusiasts enjoy making such a fuss, just let them keep it if that will make them shut up and thus deprive them of one more excuse for not working to solve any real problems. For God's sake, let the bear masturbate. I believe that sums it up nicely, although it does break one commandment. Alas.
I attempted to use a certain word yesterday. I attempted to use many words, but I speak of one specifically. You would definitely have noticed, for I placed a question mark after it, mid sentence, to remind me to confirm its meaning and definitely its spelling once I reached internet. I forgot to do that. It looked really dumb. I hope you missed it.
I continue on the dated entry below here leading the previous page, even though this story happened first, because I wrote this one second. I did see one preview I will discuss, and I knew I would hate it and thus needn't fear inevitable spoilage from because it had British children und so would not have been anything I'd want to watch. Also, a British governness type person giving out the standard "how did I get and why did I take this job since I clearly hate kids" rule list, no talking, no running, no swimming, no pudding, no breathing eck. And then I saw one of the kindle appearing twit-director's-needless-foreshadowingly shocked by a big cabinet, and I knew, ah-ha, this is the long awaited by nerds film adaption of The Lion, The Witch, The Wardrobe and a Pizza Place. I thought, due to some of the almost interesting looking visuals, that it must be a condensation of several of the Nurnior books, because there are about 37 of them and surely, even if just due to the 1000 typewriter monkeys rule, there's one good story in there somewhere. But no, the title specifically mentions a lion, a witch, a wardrobe, and none else is named. None else but Disney, that is. And to think I was all set to dislike it! I'm glad I can't afford popcorn, because the shock I then felt no doubt would have found a quantity of the unattainable snackfood rapidly emitted in a comical fashion all over the chair in front of me, and I would have been disappointed to not have hit the guy with the portable light up object. Much to my legitimate surprise, suddenly there a are lots of armed soldiers running at each other and looking very much like Lord of the Rings or Braveheart, but there's one problem: Back in my third school grade, the class was made to read the book aloud, as a group, taking turns (the worst way to read anything) and while I don't recall how it ended, I know that I finished third grade, and surely it takes less time to read a book than September to June unless every person in that class including the teacher Mrs. Wilson I hate you all was an incurable moron, which is impossible because I was the one who got sentenced to special education after that, right? What I do recall of the book is that there was not a bit of fighting, just a bunch of loathesome British kids (I didn't even have to deal with their overdone whiny accents and I hated them) walking in a forest during Winter. Oh, excitement. Eventually they meet some talking beavers, but the beavers might as well have been human adults wearing beaver masks, because they live in a house, wear clothes (i think) and the man beaver sits around smoking while the woman beaver does everything else. And the book was written in like 1950 or any one of the two-hundred years before that. Oh wow, really imaginative there. I think their names might have actually been Mr. Beaver and Mrs. Beaver (I assume they also have overdone British accents). It's nice to know that every alternate universe is interchangeable with any other or this one. What really made me mad is that when the dumb kids are invited into the house, man beaver is given beer (shocker) and the children are all given milk. They aren't even asked if they like milk or if they perhaps want water instead. I don't think woman beaver had anything, other than, naturally, a beating, as soon as the kids left. And it's not even like the man beaver has a stressful job to go to at the bomb/car/crystal methamphetamine factory later; such things do not exist in Narnia. The kids should have gotten a beating, too. Gregory Sturges, Kelly Day, Joseph Romano, Matthew Simone, Loren, Megan, Stacy or maybe it was Stephanie whose last names I don't remember, all of them. Daniel Elliot, who never had to go to Stations of the Cross. We're not laughing at you, we're laughing with you! What was I talking about? Oh that's right: I hate movie previews.
I love when I can't get to internet for four or five days and then come back to find the only things waiting for me are URGENT BUSINESS PROPOSALs and WINNING NOTIFICATIONs. It's like collecting interest in a bank account I didn't know I had. I only hope I'm not too late to make those deals and collect my prize money. Aw, shasta.
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