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The Inaudible Cabinet of Indifferent Breakfast Burritos

Because you never back down from a challenge

First twelve
Second twelve
Third twelve
Right here, where you are
Fifth page, and I've officially lost count.
Sixth page
Seventh page
Negative First page

A wholly needless, I expect, link back to the main page

Saturday, April 5, 2003
I cannot recall ever enjoying hamburgers, yet somehow I remember quite specifically the moment when I stopped.

Can you read that?  'God help me, thumbs up?' 'Richard Roeper, Ebert and Roeper?!'  Who's the real jackass here?  Oh, right.  Me.

An adverisement for the Jackass the Movie the DVD promises 5 hours of bonus features, but another only seems aware of 27 minutes of unseen footage. So that means there's a whole 4 hours and 33 minutes unaccounted for. What is it? What? WHAT IS IT? Well, I have obtained the top secret list detailing exactly what all that time is occupied by. Aren't you proud of me? How? I errr... stole it! Yeah, that's the ticket! I murdered the person who owned the list, and took it for myself! So, anyway. Here it is, in html code ripped directly from the copysoft website not five minutes ago. Not five minutes ago, because it's probably been more like seven by now.

  • Outtakes, Johnny Knoxville and company messing up and not getting injured enough, I guess (8 Minutes)
  • Secret outtake rehearsal footage (12 minutes)
  • Best of outtake and outtake rehearsal video montage (5 minutes)
  • Never before seen credits (10 minutes)
  • Never before seen credits being rewound and shown again (15 minutes)
  • The best of people saying bad stuff about jackass video montage (5 minutes)
  • Complete film of the test audiences watching the movie and reacting to stuff you can't see that was used in the initial advertising campaign for the theatrical release. Seriously, the whole thing. (90 minutes)
  • The best of test screening video montage (5 minutes)
  • Bootleg copy of movie confiscated following test screening (90 minutes)
  • Alternate FBI warnings (3 minutes)
  • Last 10 minutes of Stealing Harvard (10 minutes)
  • Best of video montages video montage (5 minutes)
  • A clock (remaining 15 minutes)
Thursday, April 3, 2003
Word up, it's the code word. No matter where you say it you know that you'll be heard

Ahhh, there we go. Just look at the size of those bite marks. I get the feeling that someone with a mouth that big isn't going to be satisfied with a puny box of doughnuts. Why, even the enlarged one on the sign is too small! We shall have to construct the M.O.A.D.B (mother of all doughnut boxes)! But... now that I think about it, why waste our precious giant doughnut resources on people who will eat signs? It's clear that they want doughnuts, but are willing to settle for deluxe advertising material. So let's see what else they'll eat, first. Ehhh... “hey, we're still working on the doughnuts, but see how you like these unexploded land mines and/or Sleepless in Seattle DVDs.”

Tuesday, April 2, 2003
The mayer knows that only the noid has the power to stop them.

Maybe they can defeat Saddam Hussein, but what about M. Bison?

That sure was some fierce street fighting alright. The U.S. forces were led of course by Wrath Sergeant Ted “Guile” Frubenfreeben, who flung many an opponent into conveniently placed wooden boxes with his patented “sonic-boom” attack. The boxes shattered upon the impact, which while appearing quite painful, actually did no additional damage.

It soon appeared that Guile would emerge the solitary fighter, but the opposition had a street fighter too. The urban champion would have to be decided by a violence fight. The Amelican soldiers effectively utilized the art of fighting on the streets of rage to show the Iraqi opposition that they were indeed the king of fighters. But it was not to be the final fight, as those being engaged in the mortal kombat had some fatal fury of their own, countering with the dreaded shaq-fu. The U.S. power fighters quite surprised, backed off for the moment, ignoring the Iraqi's gallful taunts of hey punk, are you tuff e-nuff? This really started tekken them off, as they fancied themselves world heroes. Clearly, Saddam's men were not aware of the enemy fighter's history, and fell victim to a rushing beat by the elite pocket fighters, whose brutal paws of fury put an end to the savage reign. They sure were bad dudes!

Whoreday, April 1, 2003
When a bear rides a skateboard, drinks whiskey, and steals a baby, it's simply nature's way.

I should've done the joke anyway, just so when it wasn't funny I could say ''well, you'd really have to see the *sign.*''

Well, look at that! I had been thinking to myself what a silly sign this was and decided to take a picture of it, but by the time I saw it again, what should impede my task but snow! In April, no less. Certainly, it's not the first time, but I was not expecting that. Bah, I say, bah to snow. Back in the day, back when I was “normal,” I never ever had enough snow to do anything with, and by the time I did, i. e. this year, it had long since come to my attention that snow is a cold, wet and generally disagreeable sort of thing. And if you're around it for too long then you too become cold and wet. So I've never really enjoyed it.

I can remember thinking, “well, that's because I don't have any mittens! People on television wear mittens and they never have any problems!” So I got some mittens, and much to my shock, those become cold and wet in contact with snow, as well! Perhaps I had just assumed they were manufactured from some magical fabric that's resistant to all things Winter. But it would seem that they aren't. Also, it turns out that scarves are uncomfortable, hats look stupid and snow pants sound stupid. Don't even mention boots.

Another disappointment is that contrary to every snow illustration I've ever seen, it's quite near impossible to sculpt anything resembling anything out of snow. And even if you could, it's not as if you'd be able to tell. Snow man? More like snow bland. Wait, wait. I have another. Snow man? More like Sno-thing-resembling-a man. There's no black outline to distinguish your snow object from the rest of the snow in the background. There's no delicate grey and blue shading to distinguish it from itself. And where do those stupid kids in cartoons always get the pieces of coal from? Was this because back in the time during which all this propaganda came to being, children had to work in coal mines sixteen hours a day, and occasionally would keep some for themselves?

But that snow, ehhh... It was all gone by the next day. I kept expecting Jack Frost (no, not the scary one, and no, not the one who kills people, either) to appear and let out one of the most jack-assish “AIPRULL FOO-ULL!”s of recent memory.

I *wish* I smoked the crack cocaine, just so I could blame stuff like this on it.
You whore.

Saturday, March 29, 2003
Here's a little tune I wrote when I heard it on the radio

All this week I've been hearing about Michael Moore's “controversial” speech at the Academia Awards. If you were stupendously offended by it, all I have to say is: Ha ha ha! You actually watched the Academy Awards! Wait... wait. Didn't they give him an award? What was it for? It couldn't possibly have been for his movie, if anything “typical” of Michael Moore could've stirred up such a reaction from the people who gave him the award. I don't know what he said, but isn't this, after all, the guy who made a career out of standing in politicians' driveways and shouting at them with a megaphone? I think it might not be, but as long as no one's going to tell me I'm wrong, I'll just say it is.

Saturday, March 29, 2003
You can't do this to me! I know Dick Clark!


Could someone explain this show “I bet you will?” First of all, that has to be one of the cheapest logos I've ever seen ever. Obviously, that bag with dollar sign never belonged to the graphics department. Anyway, the official description for this show sez:

"I Bet You Will" proves people will do anything for money.

But if they're betting me that I will, then shouldn't I get money if I don't? You bet I will? You've got yourself a deal, partner. Hey, whaddya know, I didn't. I won the bet. Where's my money?

Wednesday, March 26, 2003
When asked which toothbrush they prefer, more dentists say “Oral-B” than “Gikgakuwahgreebenfluben!”

Literally, last week on local CBS affiliate was

Monday: Regular programming.
Tuesday: War Coverage.
Wednesday: War coverage.
Thursday: BASKETBALL!!!!!1 (followed by war coverage)
Friday: War coverage.

So that means “breaking” news takes precedence over Late Show, and basketball takes precedence over breaking news. Because I guess I'm tuning in at precisely the same time every night because I don't really know what I want to watch. True enough, most of Dave Letterman's guesthosts simply should not be seen, so I'd accept an admission of that as an excuse. But I won't get one, because I don't think that's why, unfortunately. It's simply just far more important (but not as much as “final four”), apparently, that I know POWs (which takes just as long to say as “prisoners of war,” but considerably less time to type) are being shown on Iraqi television . How cruel and inhumane! Don't these monsters realize the camera adds ten pounds?! How dare those fiends take soldiers captive instead of shooting them! Thank goodness our Amelican networks have aired the exact same footage and denounced it!

''COMEDY 70''  Subtlety?  Why bother?

Speaking of stuff I don't want to watch, however did Jon Stewart get trapped in this personality vaccuum? On one side is Dave Attell, who's generally bitter, speaks in monotone and likes beer. On the other side is Colin Quinn, who's generally bitter, speaks in monotone and likes beer. Astounding. How do they do it? Certainly, either are preferable to Ben Stein, but who isn't, really? He's probably less interesting than both of them combined, if'n indeed combining boring people does not result in twice as much interest as one on its own, but rather half as much. That's some horrible math, but math has always been horrible, so I don't mind. I suppose Colin Quinn is funny enough (perhaps a bad choice of words for the network who at one point deemed Viva Variety in Las Vegas “funny enough”), and Dave Attell actually goes to places, rather than just talking for half an hour (which he still does, but he goes to places in addition to that), but I won't watch their shows. I just won't. Robert Smigel had a show, and it was near-intolerable. Dave Chappelle still has, it seems, a show, and it was only kind of amusing (and what's the justification of a studio audience for a show that's all taped segments?). I'm through awkwardly watching mediocre television just because someone I don't hate is involved.

Wednesday, March 26, 2003
Let's go hang underneath the Sky Toilet.

This is what you use to glue your mouth shut.

“If more than used for brushing is accidentally swallowed, get medical help or contact a Poison Control Center right away.”
'Ey. If you have more toothpaste in your mouth than you use for brushing in the first place, it being swallowed was no accident. Somebody just really likes eating toothpaste. A bit too much, perhaps. But I should think that enjoying it on any level is just disgusting, so any amount is too much. Maybe you'd like to wash that down with a bottle of lysterine? And then a pleasant dessert of Flintstones vitamins? I know, I like sour cream and onion potato chips (in fact, that's the only kind), so I should not be judging the tastes of anyone else, but come on, it's toothpaste! It has paste in it's name! I won't even eat tomato paste, let alone that which was made with teeth! Ehhh... If self-murder through deliciousness is your goal, that is why we have fried foods. At least you won't accidentally clean your teeth eating those.

Thursday, March 20, 2003
You should come to my marshmallow room. Bring Van Der Beek.

I like that Bush doesn't even say the names of the people he wants to “get” anymore. They're all just collectively known as “terror,” like that's some club they belong to. Or perhaps, he's not even against the people, but the actual emotion terror. Are you terrified of spiders? Are you terrified of high places? Crowded rooms? Speaking to an audience? Styrofoam? Well, be afraid no longer. Once regime change/defending our freedom/liberating the Iraqi people/destroying weapons of mass destruction/whichever of the reasons I've been given is ultimately decided upon comes to pass, you'll never experience fear again. You might still fall off the edge of that Rite-Aid to your death, but you'll be looking forward to it, even if it was an accident. And that spider still might bite you dead at night and then sneak into your coffin and terrorize kill a bunch of people in the town it gets sent to, but people won't be afraid. They've forgotten how to be. Jeff Daniels will point an accusatory finger at the spider and express disappointment in a climactic confrontation. That would have been less traumatic for my mother to watch with me when I was seven years old, I think.

People really don't know what this war is about. Although it's never said outright, it is apparently hoped that we will believe this is “revenge” for those airplanes hitting those buildings a while back. Since Iraq had nothing to do with that, its involvement is only vaguely implied, over and over again, naturally. “Get 'em, Dubbya,” says random New York dope looking at giant screen. 'Ey, only people who don't approve of George Wabbush's deeds are allowed to call him “Dubbya.” It's true, I read the manual. “It's about time,” says other random dope in CBS montage. Why was I watching CBS montage? At 11:30pm, I watch either the Late or Tonight Shows (depending on a number of wholly irrelevant factors) and then make really stupid pictures when the guests come out. Not that I necessarily wanted to hear yet another “freedom kissing” joke, but eventually Conan shows up and I am interested again. Well, last night, both networks felt need to pre-empt the shows I watch. Usually it's just one pushing shows back, but this time it was both, and since I try to fill two [non-web] pages a week, I kept the television on. “Breaking news,” they cry. It already broke. It's been broken for hours. Fix it! “The latest from Iraq?” The only thing late is you. I just switched over from the other channel, and they were saying the exact same thing. All I really learned was that all the impersonations of Dan Rather I've heard are dead-on. Not the same “dead-on despite neither looking nor sounding like the person” we've come to know from Darrel Hammond's Bill Clinton mimicing exploits, but actually accurate. Dan Rather really does talk funny. Some other dope doing an impression of that impression, as they tend to, might actually be amusing. But probably not. And then there's Saddam Hussein, wearing glasses to look smart, angrily saying something about jihad and Allah. “Uhhh... we will be- no, yes, victorious- uh, we will... uh prevail uhhh...hey, where's he going? I'm not done yet!” sez louder voice. The man I saw didn't look like he was stumbling over those words; no fidgeting with spectacles or holding of piece of paper closer to eyes. That must have been a live translation. But I'm afterwards told by a different disembodied voice that this address was recorded a few hours ago. So get it retranslated, then! If I truly need to see this stuff over and over again, I ought to be able to understand it, shouldn't I?

Friday, March 14, 2003
I don't eat pie by the slice. I eat pie by the pie.

People always seem surprised when they found out when my birth's date is. “Isn't that Saint Patrick's Day?” Why... yes, I suppose it is! Huh, that explains all the gratuitous leprechaun imagery on the birthday cards I used to get back when I got cards.

Everything I know about Irish people I learned from my birthday cards. Apparently, Irish people are lucky, and that is called “the luck of the Irish.” It makes sense, when you think about it. And the word "Patrick" is really hard to write, so sometimes it's spelled “Paddy” by people who can't handle it. I always thought that if my name was Patrick such an abbreviation would bother me immensely, but that isn't my [first] name, so what do I know? I know that the “top o' the morning” is the same thing as the “beginning of the morning,” except that the former can be used as a sentence. “Erin go braugh.” What does that mean? I have no idea, but real Irish people say that all the time, apparently.

You might think it's kind of fun to be able to pretend that people across the country are drinking themselves retarded in honor of me...but what kind of way is that to honor someone, really? That's more something you do to get out of honoring someone, or perhaps a way to forget that you did. Alternately, I could possibly pretend that the college students whose Spring break my [currently being] educated sources inform me is that week are celebrating me. What they do is quite different. You see, they spend the whole week getting drunk instead of just one day. And... and don't I deserve a week?

Who else? The United States army is planning to celebrate my being one year closer to death by setting off many fireworks. They will be in Iraq, true, but I'll know they were meant for me. Just like last time, leading the invasion shall be none other than veteran operative SKUNNY HARDNUT, whose kamikaze squirrel training will be an essential distraction for the Iraqi defense (not defences; they could only afford one), allowing the remainder of the force (a truckload of bushido mice and one cowboy armadillo) to sneak in unnoticed. Such distractions are necessary, because if I could find out when the attack date was, undoubtedly the people who are to be attacked probably can as well.

Tuesday, March 11, 2003
You'll always have a friend wearing big red shoes

no mention of bimshwel, fortunately

I've been wanting to be rid of the “roneldo” name which I came up with so abruptly in late 1997 for a while now, and this at last gives me a reason that I myself did not create. It would seem that there is another person being called that name who, as recently as January, was signing the most asinine of guestbook-type-thingies with such near-English pearls of perversion as these. “love sexy young ladies.” Is this an opinion? Is it a question? Is it a command? Only roneldo knows for sure. The other roneldo. I think in this case, rather than out of personal preference, this person merely could not spell “ronaldo” properly. Seriously. I have enough moronic names at my disposal that if I wanted to say stupid stuff like that I could do so without anyone being able to link it back to the person who says stupid stuff like this.

Saturday, March 1, 2003
If we can get the Magic Coral, then forever young we'll be!


She is dressed for a full day of fun and a full night of binging and purging as she brings home another bagfull of sugary goodness from Little Debbie!® Those authentic miniature boxes are just the right size to provide those essential empty calories that Barbie pretends to desire so no one asks any questions. Although the parenthetical aside informs us that no “food” is included, it is only because Barbie ravenously devoured it all in the moments following the purchase. “I looked like such a dirty, disgusting pig back there,” thinks Barbie. “So dirty, dirty...” The enviromentally minded barbie carries the empty boxes until they can be disposed of in the recommended manner, which is more than can be said for their former contents, which will soon find themselves forcefully ejected and flushed directly into the Palo Alto water supply, anything resembling a sewer system long having been abandoned, as “everyone drinks bottled water anyway.” No one knows this better than Barbie, who drinks eight everyday, not only to replenish the precious fluids lost during the previous vomiting session, but also because “I'm not hungry. I'll just have some water, thanks.”


The following item contains joke attempts of a sodomitical nature. If you are offended by the act of sodomy, references to sodomy, or possibly even the word “sodomy,” I've already offended you, haven't I. At any rate, disregard the next part. I saw this and decided it needed to be here, and thought I might as well at least try to say something about it. And no, none of that is an apology. I still hate you.

Monday, February 24, 2003
No no, no, no no no nonono no no no, no no nono, no no no-no, no no no-no, no no-no nonono. Know your cuts of meat!

Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn and pudding; a whole pound of food men love!

Anal ramming. The original background was removed and the angle is kind of odd, so for all we know, he could be getting some of it right now. He's still clothed, so it must be the “brief chance office encounter” type anal ramming, and the facial expression lets you know that he's not satisfied. He does like a lot of it after all. And... and... he wants you to do it. It doesn't matter if you're not biologically capable of doing such things. That's what “strap-ons” are for, don't you know. He was afraid, at first, but since, as we all know, it's good to be full, eventually he came to accept and embrace such circumstances. Like he can really tell the difference.

It has come to my knowledge that the term anal reaming which I initially used is incorrect. While very similar in some aspects, by definition it seems like something which would become very painful over time, and as “hungry” a man as this one won't stand for that. Not for very long, anyway. Still, I'm thankful that my only internet exposure to such things has been through an online dictionary.

Wednesday, February 12, 2003
And don't forget to ask for me: Ten-Percent Charlie

But how will you hear my answer if the sound is off?

What an important question, one that we need a definitive answer to now, moreso than ever before. A question beyond worthy of the intelligent debate which will no doubt ensue. Are the US setting their military sights on the wrong targets? Are there peaceful solutions to the problems at hand? Should Timecube debate be allowed in our schools? Who the bimp cares? Dogs or cats, the world needs to know. Do you believe octopus beats them both? Then celebriduck off, that wasn't one of the choices. But do come back tomorrow, when the question will be “boxers or briefs?” And none of that “which is better” type setup either. Who has time to be reading that? That telephone in the picture, it has no cord. Back when this newspaper was soliciting our views on the deficit and global warming, there was a cord then. But we're too busy now to stand still and form opinions on any issue with more than one side, or celebrities with more than one name, for that matter. Britney or Justin? Justin or Kelly? Kelly or Jack? The cord held us back. Hey, that rhymes.

Wednesday, February 5, 2003
Adam Chandler versus Adam Sandler: Not if, but when?

Oh, so wacky!
Why do things that are laughable and silly want to get taken seriously? Like those "new" "old" Ninja Turtles that are plotting their strategy at this time. I've been seeing random confessions of giddiness every once in a while for over a year now. "Hey, this isn't gonna be like the TV show! It's gonna be like the comic book, and then at last we can die happily!" I don't know if it's a new series, or a movie, or a dark and brooding trading card game. Honestly, I'd rather not know. Because if you're a mutant turtle who recently became a ninja, you're a joke. There's nothing you can do to change that. I don't care if you kill people or actually get hit by a bullet once in a while. You're still ridiculous. The problem with the show did not lie in it not being violent enough. The problem was that it was about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
It reminds me of another unexplained internet legend, Megaman. Specifically, Megaman part X. You might think that's an odd connection, but there's a similar ratio of oddity to non-whimsical devotion involved, and I'm not even making baseless assumptions this time. "Oooh, it's in the future, and all the humans are dead! Let's be bleak and bitter!" No. Your first name is Mega. You fight robots shaped like armadillos and penguins. Face it, you're a joke.

And how could I forget Sailor Moon? Easily enough, it seems, because I did. Let me get this straight... A sailor, as in: someone who sails... a boat... from the moon. A sailor from the moon who destroys villains by throwing a frisbee at them! Sure, that makes a lot of sense. It does? Well, let's toss in a couple talking cats, then. I'm not necessarily saying this isn't a great premise, just that overly dramatic storylines are not to do well with it. I acknowledge that much of the show's popularity came out of it's open source-esqe levels of porn-portability. But then, there's Megaman-X porn, too, and undoubtedly for the Ninja Turtles as well (and if there isn't now the mere mention of it ought to inspire somebody). Now, I myself do not particularly enjoy the erotic [fan]arts, but since no one ever believes anyone who says stuff like that, I might just as well not have said it.

Friday, January 31, 2003
It wasn't too great, but it was better than Impossamole...

My crazy non-Greek mother was watching crazy television again. This time it was Celebrity Mole, a reality/game show, whose situations were neither realistic nor entirely game-like. The celebrities have to find the mole. So I guess they dig holes on golf courses searching for it, or something. I missed the beginning. So the goal of the contestants on the show is to figure out who among them is the mole. The goal of the viewing audience is to figure out who among them is the celebrity. I was having a hard time figuring it out, myself. Let's see...



Gosh, I hope not...

There's no one else left, it must be you.

It's Eric Von Detten, and last year he played the lead role in a very publicized and successful production that has recently been released on DVD. Do you know what it was?

That's right, he was the guy from Final Fantasy X! The smugly retarded smile, the boy-band haircut, the buckles and straps a-plenty wardrobe, how could it be anyone else? I guess Square didn't pay him very much.

It's a good thing I realized they were the same person before I went ahead with my “whose fan-fiction is scarier” page.

Sunday, January 26, 2003
Shaquille O'Neal has inspired millions with his near-miraculous come-back from Taco-Neck Syndrome

But where do *babies* come from?


What nonsense. I was taught at an early age that men are not from Mars, they only go there to obtain mass quantities of candy bars. As for the women, the jope who wrote this didn't even get the planet right. Being as they are dandy and made out of candy, they naturally don't need to go to Mars, but their destination is not Venus. Oh, no no no. They actually go to Jupiter, as I hear it, to, quote, “get more stupider.” You can tell by the grammar that they've been going there a lot, too. Whyever someone would set out to become stupider is not known to me. I can only ass-u-me that they went there once, just to see what was there, and suddenly became stupid. There was nothing they could do to stop it. Even worse, they became just stupid enough to desire ultimate stupidity, so they kept coming back, possibly to see John Gray: PhD, the author of this book, whom I suspect lives there.

Tuesday, January 21, 2003
Maine, considered the south of the north

Alright, Disney. I get it. Adults go to your theme parks and your cruise ships and your third world countries to do sex to each other. Right. And their kids don't know about it! They are not grown ups, and they don't understand! Ha ha ha, “Mom” calls that kid's brother the “little souvenir,” right? Ha ha ha, Disney advertising is so clever and lifelike!

The problem is, they've run out of anniversaries to celebrate. They had the twenty-fifth anniversary of Disney world, which I guess lasted a couple of years, which leads into the whorishly inevitable “millenium celebration,” from 1999 to 2001 (longer than the actual millenium, which was the year 2000) and now dead ol' Disney's one-hundredth theoretical birthday has just ended. While it's true the Disney corporation honors itself better than anyone, I guess they thought they needed a break. That's alright, Disney, you just relax. You've worked hard, throwing parties for yourself, and all. You deserve some time off. Hey, why don't you go to Universal Studios?

Collector's Edition Missing Link Sarah Silverman sez:
Urrrgh! Battle sabre-tooth tiger with sardonic wit! Conquer neighboring tribe with brutal sarcasm! Do Craig Kilborn show and play Yambo with Kermit the Frog! Yambo! Yambo! YAAAAAMBOOOOOH!
Why not me be first guest? Sacrifice puny muppet to honor ancestor! Fashion crude jewelry from skull of enemy! Win and live. Lose and die. Rule of life. No change rule. Urrrgh! Me like chinks.
You might appreciate this if you saw what it was originally.
Missing Link Sarah Silverman
Note: the above message does not necessarily represent the actual thoughts or words of Missing Link Sarah Silverman, except for the part about chinks.

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