I've got a cold and hay fever and the flu and everything, and I'm sorta wavering in and out, between bouts of crystal clarity and a hot fog that's hard to breathe through, the leaves began to fall from the trees and they sound overly loud, crackling like wood-chips when they hit the ground, the hummingbirds (there's two of them) chase each other around my head a few times, for a moment, and I know I'm a real life picture of a dizzy cartoon character with birds flying around my head, but it doesn't even occur to me to laugh, and so they land (I've never seen a hummingbird land before) and we stare at each other and I can see how small they really are, they're just tiny little birds the size of your thumb.
I think about how cello and violin music is really good, the serious stuff, like the stuff they had in Arcanum, that was all class, man, that's style, that's what you should use in a game, it isn't just classical music that makes something timeless, its that cello and violin stuff.
But I don't really know anything about classical music, I'm like a guy that has never seen star wars or something, when it comes to classical music, I mean, I love Beethoven and I can talk some shit about Mozart and Grieg and a few other ones, if I got cornered, but that's like saying the Beatles were a good band or something, y'know, I couldn't name that music I like from those airplane commercials or anything, that stuff I always think of as Turn of the Century Music, looking forward to some science fictional future full of awesome inventions (which we have, but we lost the music that was supposed to go along with it, on the way, somehow).
I don't know what kind of music the cello and violin stuff I like is, there's probably a name for it, but I've never talked with anybody about classical music, I've never met anybody that knew as much as I do about it, in real life, and I don't feel like I know anything about it, so its just like some strange and beautiful ocean out there that I believe in but have no proof of.
I'm smart enough to know that if you do a Peter-and-the-Wolf type thing, where you tie a character to a theme, then you need to make sure their theme can evolve along with them, or you'll be stuck with static characters that never seem to change or grow, non-dynamic characters.
That's not always a bad thing, sometimes people want characters that are always the same, its comforting, in a way, like your favorite ratty-old t-shirt, the t-shirt that's so worn out that its become almost filmy and ghostlike in places, its pattern is staying the same but its growing fainter, this is how it exits the stage, by fading away right before our eyes, insteada making sharp turns and stomping about, there's something to think about there, but I can't think of the words to take me down those alleyways, at the moment, the thoughts escape me, weighed down by the flu, or whatever it is that I got, I can't follow the things that stay the same and fade away.
I know that its because I'm trying to figure out how sick I am all the time that my senses seem sharper than normal, I'm paying more attention to how they work than I normally would, now that I don't trust them completely.
Normally I just go around squinting at everything all the time, hardly noticing anything, ignoring everything on the sidelines, like the birds and the way that the leaves sound when they hit the ground, that's why its surprising me, its like I've never bothered to listen to them before, never noticed how strange they are.
So in a way, this is like a cool little vacation, a strange little trip, and the way my nose is all raw from our skirmishes with the box of kleenex, the way that my eyes are hot and weary and my head is heavy with fog, the way my thoughts are a like a bunch of logs half rolling and half sliding down the stairs, leaving a trail of black and dirty smudges and bark, well, that is a small price to pay for this temporarily heightened sensory state, right?
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Just a Centon
I think you need to integrate your fantasy life with your menial household tasks a little more.
Perhaps that half-filled can of tomatoes is the very last half-filled can of tomatoes in the Intergalactic Wagon Train, the last tomatoes from our home planet, now that it has been destroyed by a terrible robot apocalypse.
And thus great care must be taken with the freshness of its contents, for it carries one last taste of a place called "home," a limited-use potion of childhood memories that must be used soon and can never be used again, with every passing moment the chemical bonds within it weaken, and it must be preserved!
And now you have been tasked by a sexy (and potentially dangerous) alien woman to find some strange and colorful little piece of xenopological pottery amongst the air-sealed panels and lockers and assorted storage areas of her mysterious ship, something that will, without doubt, turn out to be an intentional example of how different or similar this civilization is, from and to our own, designed by some prop-and-special effects guy who had never intended it to actually be used, and you must ponder the alien woman's impossible-to-guess storage methodologies to locate it, perhaps they sort things alphabetically, or by smell.
That's actually not that much of a stretch for me, I have no idea where an exotic alien female might store her futuristic-looking ration containers heh.
You can add in some stuff about being the last of your kind and the continuation of the species and all that classic shiznit if you require some motivation to perform her simple tasks as assigned, and you can always season it to suit your tastes, spice things up with some exotic alien mating rituals, perhaps her alien physiology is different, her erogenous zones may be located in previously undiscovered and unusual places, y'know, whatever.
Thanks to your healthy science-fiction-fueled imagination, and the Trapped in an Elevator Effect, pretty much every chick can suddenly transform into that barefoot chick from the Forbidden Planet heh.
See, you didn't have to work this hard when the Sopranos were still on the air, 'cause that show was all about cooking and eating ahaha.
Perhaps that half-filled can of tomatoes is the very last half-filled can of tomatoes in the Intergalactic Wagon Train, the last tomatoes from our home planet, now that it has been destroyed by a terrible robot apocalypse.
And thus great care must be taken with the freshness of its contents, for it carries one last taste of a place called "home," a limited-use potion of childhood memories that must be used soon and can never be used again, with every passing moment the chemical bonds within it weaken, and it must be preserved!
And now you have been tasked by a sexy (and potentially dangerous) alien woman to find some strange and colorful little piece of xenopological pottery amongst the air-sealed panels and lockers and assorted storage areas of her mysterious ship, something that will, without doubt, turn out to be an intentional example of how different or similar this civilization is, from and to our own, designed by some prop-and-special effects guy who had never intended it to actually be used, and you must ponder the alien woman's impossible-to-guess storage methodologies to locate it, perhaps they sort things alphabetically, or by smell.
That's actually not that much of a stretch for me, I have no idea where an exotic alien female might store her futuristic-looking ration containers heh.
You can add in some stuff about being the last of your kind and the continuation of the species and all that classic shiznit if you require some motivation to perform her simple tasks as assigned, and you can always season it to suit your tastes, spice things up with some exotic alien mating rituals, perhaps her alien physiology is different, her erogenous zones may be located in previously undiscovered and unusual places, y'know, whatever.
Thanks to your healthy science-fiction-fueled imagination, and the Trapped in an Elevator Effect, pretty much every chick can suddenly transform into that barefoot chick from the Forbidden Planet heh.
See, you didn't have to work this hard when the Sopranos were still on the air, 'cause that show was all about cooking and eating ahaha.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Lies
It might surprise you to know that I, the Greatest Roleplayer Alive ('cause all the other ones have drown in mysterious accidents), am a horrible, terrible liar, when it comes time to actually lie about something.
Being able to do little song and dance numbers and funny voices and going off on crazy tangents to make folks laugh and being able to spin yarns and read minds and detect micro-changes in air density and stuff doesn't really lend itself to lying as much as you'd probably think if you weren't any good at that stuff.
I never lie.
I never lie 'cause I'm one of those guys cursed with that thing where everybody can read my mind.
Seriously, most of the time, when folks ask me a question, I don't even have to say anything, everybody can just reach right into my hat holder and get at whatever answers they need, its like living in the Village of the Damned and shit and being the only guy without any super powers.
But even if you never bother lying to yourself, or for yourself, you can still get stuck in positions where you've got to try to lie for somebody else.
Like when they tell you a secret that they don't want somebody else to know, and then it never fails that the very person that they don't want you to tell the secret to the most homes in on you at a party with a terrifyingly accurate line of interrogation (like a dude being careful with a djinni wish), as if he can see the secret through the skin of your forehead, and you're stuck, either lying, or telling him the secret.
And I always have to choose to lie, then, 'cause I'm from Chicago, and that's just how we have to do it, even though I know it ain't going to work heh.
And that's when my total disregard for the arts of deception really becomes apparent.
I think what happens is tied in to the way that everybody can read my mind, its like an extension of the same property.
Its like my brain has to work so hard, in order to lie, that it has to reverse polarity on all the vibes I emit, or something, its like the earth stops rotating as my brain grabs for traction, and everyone in the room can feel it, there's this horrible jarring sensation that runs through everybody's nerve endings, a collective inhalation of breath, an inaudible shudder as an electromagnetic pulse goes flashing invisibly through the room and makes everyone forget what they were doing, discussions stop dead, there's a horrible silence and stillness, everything freezes, and everyone, even people across the room, turn and look at me, standing at the source of all this discomfort, to see what the hell is causing such a humongous-ass disturbance in the force.
And I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff.
That's what always happens, right before I manage to spit out the lie, whether its something tiny, like a "yeah" when I should've said "no," or something more complicated, like making up some stupid ass story to cover somebody's trail.
I can't even get away with an "I don't know," 'cause I always do know, and everybody knows that I do know.
And "I have no idea..." doesn't work for the same reason, I always have at least one idea, and its almost always the right one heh.
And nobody has ever fallen for one of my horrible-ass weak little lies, I'm so bad at lying that people have actually started smiling and laughing out loud at how horrible I am at it, I usually don't even get in trouble for it, 'cause people think I'm just trying to make 'em laugh or something, there's like no ill will or anything ahaha.
Haha man my eyes are watering from the stress of just thinking about it, that's how bad I am at lying!
Yah, actually my eyes are all watery like this 'cause I got some kinda wicked-ass flu or something, seriously.
But whatever, that's why you can be sure that I'm not trying to trick you, baby, I would never do that to you, I couldn't do that to you even you wanted me to, I just don't have it in me.
Being able to do little song and dance numbers and funny voices and going off on crazy tangents to make folks laugh and being able to spin yarns and read minds and detect micro-changes in air density and stuff doesn't really lend itself to lying as much as you'd probably think if you weren't any good at that stuff.
I never lie.
I never lie 'cause I'm one of those guys cursed with that thing where everybody can read my mind.
Seriously, most of the time, when folks ask me a question, I don't even have to say anything, everybody can just reach right into my hat holder and get at whatever answers they need, its like living in the Village of the Damned and shit and being the only guy without any super powers.
But even if you never bother lying to yourself, or for yourself, you can still get stuck in positions where you've got to try to lie for somebody else.
Like when they tell you a secret that they don't want somebody else to know, and then it never fails that the very person that they don't want you to tell the secret to the most homes in on you at a party with a terrifyingly accurate line of interrogation (like a dude being careful with a djinni wish), as if he can see the secret through the skin of your forehead, and you're stuck, either lying, or telling him the secret.
And I always have to choose to lie, then, 'cause I'm from Chicago, and that's just how we have to do it, even though I know it ain't going to work heh.
And that's when my total disregard for the arts of deception really becomes apparent.
I think what happens is tied in to the way that everybody can read my mind, its like an extension of the same property.
Its like my brain has to work so hard, in order to lie, that it has to reverse polarity on all the vibes I emit, or something, its like the earth stops rotating as my brain grabs for traction, and everyone in the room can feel it, there's this horrible jarring sensation that runs through everybody's nerve endings, a collective inhalation of breath, an inaudible shudder as an electromagnetic pulse goes flashing invisibly through the room and makes everyone forget what they were doing, discussions stop dead, there's a horrible silence and stillness, everything freezes, and everyone, even people across the room, turn and look at me, standing at the source of all this discomfort, to see what the hell is causing such a humongous-ass disturbance in the force.
And I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff.
That's what always happens, right before I manage to spit out the lie, whether its something tiny, like a "yeah" when I should've said "no," or something more complicated, like making up some stupid ass story to cover somebody's trail.
I can't even get away with an "I don't know," 'cause I always do know, and everybody knows that I do know.
And "I have no idea..." doesn't work for the same reason, I always have at least one idea, and its almost always the right one heh.
And nobody has ever fallen for one of my horrible-ass weak little lies, I'm so bad at lying that people have actually started smiling and laughing out loud at how horrible I am at it, I usually don't even get in trouble for it, 'cause people think I'm just trying to make 'em laugh or something, there's like no ill will or anything ahaha.
Haha man my eyes are watering from the stress of just thinking about it, that's how bad I am at lying!
Yah, actually my eyes are all watery like this 'cause I got some kinda wicked-ass flu or something, seriously.
But whatever, that's why you can be sure that I'm not trying to trick you, baby, I would never do that to you, I couldn't do that to you even you wanted me to, I just don't have it in me.
Antediluvia
There is one exception to the "arse" rule.
And that's when folks say that they "can't be arsed" to do something.
That doesn't translate into Americanglish properly, so that's still okay to do.
Saying you "can't be assed" to do something doesn't make any sense.
Which also makes it pretty goddam funny.
So I'm gonna start doing it.
And that means that you are on borrowed time if you are still "arsed" into doing things "ye olde" way.
Haha yah I'm giving you all Official Notice, the countdown clock on the last of the Arse Holdouts has begun.
"I can't be assed to switch to the new way."
"New way? What's this about a new way? There's been some very large talk behind my sleeping back, and no error."
"Don't worry, these are the blokes that still measure shite by the length of some King's foot."
And that's when folks say that they "can't be arsed" to do something.
That doesn't translate into Americanglish properly, so that's still okay to do.
Saying you "can't be assed" to do something doesn't make any sense.
Which also makes it pretty goddam funny.
So I'm gonna start doing it.
And that means that you are on borrowed time if you are still "arsed" into doing things "ye olde" way.
Haha yah I'm giving you all Official Notice, the countdown clock on the last of the Arse Holdouts has begun.
"I can't be assed to switch to the new way."
"New way? What's this about a new way? There's been some very large talk behind my sleeping back, and no error."
"Don't worry, these are the blokes that still measure shite by the length of some King's foot."
One of the Top Ten Books of Some Year
I been reading High Fidelity.
Its a lot of fun, even though there's bits of it that are word-for-word what you saw in the movie ('cause it couldn't be rewritten into a script without losing some of the personality).
The main difference between the book and the movie is that its actually s'posed to be a bunch of british dudes in London or something, and that actually helps to keep it interesting.
Yah, like, every once in a while, the dude will say something like "that's a corker!" and I'll be all like, wtfizzat.
Y'know, 'cause a lot of folks say stuff like "sabre" and "colour" is the "European Spelling" of the "Americanized" words "saber" and "color."
But what is really going on there is that that kinda shit is actually Ye Olde English and the Antiquated Poetic and Vestigial spellings of those words, maintained by the equivalent of Amish people who refuse to adapt to the modern times for whatever reason.
I can't use that kinda spelling without people thinking I'm going into character or Lovecraftian Mode or something heh.
Hey man, people give Lovecraft a lot of shit for being an Anglophile and all he ever did was spell a couple words funny ahaha.
Anyways the character telling the story thinks its funny that Americans actually use the word "horny."
And I think "corker" is pilgrim-talk.
So its a fair trade I guess ahaha.
Well, whatever, on the back of the paperback copy I got, there's this quote.
It says "One of the Top Ten Books of the Year - Entertainment Weekly" without some of the caps.
And the first thing that latched on to me about it was that being "One of the Top Ten Books of the Year" isn't all that great.
Its not like being One of the Top Ten Books of the Decade, or Top Ten Books of the Century, or One of the Top Ten Books of All Times.
Couldn't they find somebody that liked it better than that?
There's all sorts of weird-ass people on this planet, there's gotta be some freakasaur out there who put that book at number one of all times.
Its like you didn't even bother to look!
Its a pretty good book, imho, I mean, it definitely deserves better than being put somewhere in the Top Ten Books of the Year (which really means that it must be somewhere between 5 and 10, or else he woulda said it was in the Top Five, right?).
And that's especially true if you only read a couple books per year.
'Cause if you only read two or so books a year, then the fact that both of 'em are gonna be in your Top Ten of the Year sorta goes without saying.
That don't mean they were any good.
Maybe you don't read many books 'cause the Top Two of the Year were pieces of shit.
They should have found somebody that only reads one book a year, and then paid him to read High Fidelity, 'cause then he could honestly say that it was the best book he had read all year.
And its also the worst book he had read all year but whatever that's what quotation marks were invented for *snippety-snip* ahaha.
And just because a dude reads more than ten books a year, its not like he read all of the books that were written that year, y'know?
Its not like the opinion and ordination of a ten-book-a-year guy would be worth a shit.
And its not like you can just say shit like "its in the Top Ten of the Year" and think its official without realizing that this book probably did not earn that title competing amongst millions of hopeful contestants in some kinda international gladiator ring for books with impartial judges.
Even if being in the Top Ten of the Year is kinda wimpy, it probably didn't even really earn that, somebody probably just sorta said that in an off-handed way, and then it became gospel.
And thinking about all that shit gave me the time to realize that maybe the critic hadn't even read the fucking book.
'Cause the book is all about Top Five of All Time lists, not Top Ten of the Year lists.
And if the critic was trying to be funny and clever, he totally fucked that up.
Or maybe the critic was trying to be a dick, by fucking it up on purpose.
I do stuff like that sometimes.
Sometimes I do shit like that and it isn't even on purpose.
But then again, I prolly wouldn't have read the book either, if somebody told me I had to 'cause it was my job, I would've just scanned it a little and came up with a cheerful quip, without overdoing it, y'know, in case, when the real critics who actually read the books they review all the way through show up, it turned out that the book sucked fer some undeniable reason, like the literary version of a mathematical proof that proved both that the book sucked and that you were a total fraud as a reviewer or something.
No sense in muddying up your journalistic integrity on some stupid book that you ain't even gonna bother to read by giving it too much praise or whatever, better to play it loose and just dunk it in the lower five of the Top Ten of the Year.
You don't want people saying stuff like "oh man, that's the reviewer that said that that fucking High Fidelity book was like, the 8th best book of 19-whatever! That guy sucks! He didn't even read it!"
Yah, Top Ten of the Year is playing it safe, that's saying there's like a twenty percent chance of rain.
Plus ain't nobody gonna keep track and actually count how many times you put a book in your Top Ten of the Year as long as you never list 'em all out somewhere and never specify what year you are talking about, so that's good to use on all the ones you ain't gonna bother to read.
Still, maybe that Top Ten of the Year thing was a slam.
That be a pretty fucking good slam, coming from a dude who actually read the book, y'know?
That'd be kinda like a smashed-it-out-of-the-park-and-into-the-side-of-Jupiter slam, if it was on purpose.
And maybe the people who published the book didn't realize it 'cause they hadn't bothered to read the fucking book either.
'Cause they saw the movie, just like everybody else, and thought that the book seemed to be pretty much the same as the movie, same as everybody else.
Except the movie was only an hour and a half long and the book would take like, a month to read or something (which would leave two books out of your Top Ten every year, if you read non-stop all year round).
They prolly didn't even notice the parts where the guy says stuff like "thats a corker" and "arse."
Which is what makes it worth reading, really.
Its the tale of some tragically hip musical trivia dude that talks like a medieval sailor, what's not to love about that?
Its all weird and twisted and interesting like that dude on Boston Legal who played the original Daniel Jackson.
Its like writing a book about people who are too cool to read books for people who are too cool to read books.
That's the witty and ironic kinda shit that makes the British sense of humor world-famous, but at the same time, its sorta like its no wonder that nobody can finish the damn thing.
And the movie doesn't help, 'cause its like, "oh man, I seen all this before, dude, that Jack Black was hilarious, heeheehee, I'll just flip past this part" *flip-flip-flip*
"Yah, fuck this, I'm just gonna do a review of this weird little buzz-phrase on the back of the book."
Its a lot of fun, even though there's bits of it that are word-for-word what you saw in the movie ('cause it couldn't be rewritten into a script without losing some of the personality).
The main difference between the book and the movie is that its actually s'posed to be a bunch of british dudes in London or something, and that actually helps to keep it interesting.
Yah, like, every once in a while, the dude will say something like "that's a corker!" and I'll be all like, wtfizzat.
Y'know, 'cause a lot of folks say stuff like "sabre" and "colour" is the "European Spelling" of the "Americanized" words "saber" and "color."
But what is really going on there is that that kinda shit is actually Ye Olde English and the Antiquated Poetic and Vestigial spellings of those words, maintained by the equivalent of Amish people who refuse to adapt to the modern times for whatever reason.
I can't use that kinda spelling without people thinking I'm going into character or Lovecraftian Mode or something heh.
Hey man, people give Lovecraft a lot of shit for being an Anglophile and all he ever did was spell a couple words funny ahaha.
Anyways the character telling the story thinks its funny that Americans actually use the word "horny."
And I think "corker" is pilgrim-talk.
So its a fair trade I guess ahaha.
Well, whatever, on the back of the paperback copy I got, there's this quote.
It says "One of the Top Ten Books of the Year - Entertainment Weekly" without some of the caps.
And the first thing that latched on to me about it was that being "One of the Top Ten Books of the Year" isn't all that great.
Its not like being One of the Top Ten Books of the Decade, or Top Ten Books of the Century, or One of the Top Ten Books of All Times.
Couldn't they find somebody that liked it better than that?
There's all sorts of weird-ass people on this planet, there's gotta be some freakasaur out there who put that book at number one of all times.
Its like you didn't even bother to look!
Its a pretty good book, imho, I mean, it definitely deserves better than being put somewhere in the Top Ten Books of the Year (which really means that it must be somewhere between 5 and 10, or else he woulda said it was in the Top Five, right?).
And that's especially true if you only read a couple books per year.
'Cause if you only read two or so books a year, then the fact that both of 'em are gonna be in your Top Ten of the Year sorta goes without saying.
That don't mean they were any good.
Maybe you don't read many books 'cause the Top Two of the Year were pieces of shit.
They should have found somebody that only reads one book a year, and then paid him to read High Fidelity, 'cause then he could honestly say that it was the best book he had read all year.
And its also the worst book he had read all year but whatever that's what quotation marks were invented for *snippety-snip* ahaha.
And just because a dude reads more than ten books a year, its not like he read all of the books that were written that year, y'know?
Its not like the opinion and ordination of a ten-book-a-year guy would be worth a shit.
And its not like you can just say shit like "its in the Top Ten of the Year" and think its official without realizing that this book probably did not earn that title competing amongst millions of hopeful contestants in some kinda international gladiator ring for books with impartial judges.
Even if being in the Top Ten of the Year is kinda wimpy, it probably didn't even really earn that, somebody probably just sorta said that in an off-handed way, and then it became gospel.
And thinking about all that shit gave me the time to realize that maybe the critic hadn't even read the fucking book.
'Cause the book is all about Top Five of All Time lists, not Top Ten of the Year lists.
And if the critic was trying to be funny and clever, he totally fucked that up.
Or maybe the critic was trying to be a dick, by fucking it up on purpose.
I do stuff like that sometimes.
Sometimes I do shit like that and it isn't even on purpose.
But then again, I prolly wouldn't have read the book either, if somebody told me I had to 'cause it was my job, I would've just scanned it a little and came up with a cheerful quip, without overdoing it, y'know, in case, when the real critics who actually read the books they review all the way through show up, it turned out that the book sucked fer some undeniable reason, like the literary version of a mathematical proof that proved both that the book sucked and that you were a total fraud as a reviewer or something.
No sense in muddying up your journalistic integrity on some stupid book that you ain't even gonna bother to read by giving it too much praise or whatever, better to play it loose and just dunk it in the lower five of the Top Ten of the Year.
You don't want people saying stuff like "oh man, that's the reviewer that said that that fucking High Fidelity book was like, the 8th best book of 19-whatever! That guy sucks! He didn't even read it!"
Yah, Top Ten of the Year is playing it safe, that's saying there's like a twenty percent chance of rain.
Plus ain't nobody gonna keep track and actually count how many times you put a book in your Top Ten of the Year as long as you never list 'em all out somewhere and never specify what year you are talking about, so that's good to use on all the ones you ain't gonna bother to read.
Still, maybe that Top Ten of the Year thing was a slam.
That be a pretty fucking good slam, coming from a dude who actually read the book, y'know?
That'd be kinda like a smashed-it-out-of-the-park-and-into-the-side-of-Jupiter slam, if it was on purpose.
And maybe the people who published the book didn't realize it 'cause they hadn't bothered to read the fucking book either.
'Cause they saw the movie, just like everybody else, and thought that the book seemed to be pretty much the same as the movie, same as everybody else.
Except the movie was only an hour and a half long and the book would take like, a month to read or something (which would leave two books out of your Top Ten every year, if you read non-stop all year round).
They prolly didn't even notice the parts where the guy says stuff like "thats a corker" and "arse."
Which is what makes it worth reading, really.
Its the tale of some tragically hip musical trivia dude that talks like a medieval sailor, what's not to love about that?
Its all weird and twisted and interesting like that dude on Boston Legal who played the original Daniel Jackson.
Its like writing a book about people who are too cool to read books for people who are too cool to read books.
That's the witty and ironic kinda shit that makes the British sense of humor world-famous, but at the same time, its sorta like its no wonder that nobody can finish the damn thing.
And the movie doesn't help, 'cause its like, "oh man, I seen all this before, dude, that Jack Black was hilarious, heeheehee, I'll just flip past this part" *flip-flip-flip*
"Yah, fuck this, I'm just gonna do a review of this weird little buzz-phrase on the back of the book."
Don't Worry, Steve's DNA Is On Our Side
That show was the last time I watched Colbert.
Yah, seriously, I saw that on TV, and then I was thinking about what would be funny to say about it, and I realized that that was the last time I ever watched Colbert.
I used to love Colbert.
But that show kinda made me sick.
And I didn't really think about it too much at the time, y'know how we sorta automagically block painful memories and stuff so we can continue on with grits-n-gristle of day-to-day survival?
But now that I've gotten some distance from it, I think I'll be able to talk about it some, without bursting into tears.
Yah, see, when I saw that, I had a vision.
Oh yes.
A vision of Richard Garriott's DNA being picked up by aliens who used it to produce a clone army of blue leather-catsuit and whip-wearing Richard Garriotts, an army of guys that look sorta like a cross between Chuck Norris (without the muscles) and a Magician from the 70s, an army of Creepy Kings in Futuristic Latex that the aliens could use to take over the Earth and rule the world.
A Richard Garriott Apocalypse.
And I understood what Colbert was doing there, 'cause he realized that the Earth's only hope against such a nightmarish turn of events would be for him to make a latch ditch effort to get in there and make friendly with Richard Garriott and his Handservants, to make sure that the aliens had a sample of Colbert's DNA, too, so that they might also be tricked into creating a clone army of Colberts, one that us human freedom fighters in the Resistance could rally to our cause and use to turn back the tide of Richard Garriotts.
It was a great personal sacrifice for Colbert, 'cause he knew that I would never watch his show again, after he seemed to turn on us like that, in order to go undercover.
Hang on, I need a moment to compose myself, the memories are starting to... get to me *sniffle*
Okay, I think I can continue.
Anyways I applaud his heroism.
From a distance.
Okay, okay, I'm just jealous.
But I don't have a lot of time for TV, so I just watch Craig Ferguson, y'know, for the news.
Maybe one day I'll tell you guys the time-traveling parallel universe demonic possession black hole laser apocalypse story that explains why nobody on the internet spells "Fergusen" with any consistency.
Its for his own protection.
Yah, seriously, I saw that on TV, and then I was thinking about what would be funny to say about it, and I realized that that was the last time I ever watched Colbert.
I used to love Colbert.
But that show kinda made me sick.
And I didn't really think about it too much at the time, y'know how we sorta automagically block painful memories and stuff so we can continue on with grits-n-gristle of day-to-day survival?
But now that I've gotten some distance from it, I think I'll be able to talk about it some, without bursting into tears.
Yah, see, when I saw that, I had a vision.
Oh yes.
A vision of Richard Garriott's DNA being picked up by aliens who used it to produce a clone army of blue leather-catsuit and whip-wearing Richard Garriotts, an army of guys that look sorta like a cross between Chuck Norris (without the muscles) and a Magician from the 70s, an army of Creepy Kings in Futuristic Latex that the aliens could use to take over the Earth and rule the world.
A Richard Garriott Apocalypse.
And I understood what Colbert was doing there, 'cause he realized that the Earth's only hope against such a nightmarish turn of events would be for him to make a latch ditch effort to get in there and make friendly with Richard Garriott and his Handservants, to make sure that the aliens had a sample of Colbert's DNA, too, so that they might also be tricked into creating a clone army of Colberts, one that us human freedom fighters in the Resistance could rally to our cause and use to turn back the tide of Richard Garriotts.
It was a great personal sacrifice for Colbert, 'cause he knew that I would never watch his show again, after he seemed to turn on us like that, in order to go undercover.
Hang on, I need a moment to compose myself, the memories are starting to... get to me *sniffle*
Okay, I think I can continue.
Anyways I applaud his heroism.
From a distance.
Okay, okay, I'm just jealous.
But I don't have a lot of time for TV, so I just watch Craig Ferguson, y'know, for the news.
Maybe one day I'll tell you guys the time-traveling parallel universe demonic possession black hole laser apocalypse story that explains why nobody on the internet spells "Fergusen" with any consistency.
Its for his own protection.
Happy World
Its not okay to use the word "retarded."
Its still okay to the use the word "stupid," though.
That's weird.
I guess the stupid people haven't gotten around to voting yet.
And nobody cares about the stupid people like they care about the retarded people, so nobody votes in their place, like they do for the retarded people.
Everybody is all nice and protective of you, as long as you're retarded.
But move one little bump up the ladder to stupid and its like they wanna kill you when they get stuck behind you in traffic.
Its okay to want to kill stupid people.
But you can't even say the word retarded, 'cause you might hurt a retarded person's feelings.
That's weird, man.
I wonder if, one day, in the distant future, it'll be against the rules to say anything negative.
Its interesting to think about, y'know, this eventual blissful utopia that these happy pandas who-hate-stupid-people envision, where they get rid of all the negativity and you can't even say shit like "I think this milk is spoiled."
'Cause you might hurt the feelings of spoiled people.
Haha yah that would never work, 'cause we can always say stuff like "nice pants" and "oh that was really smart" ahaha.
"Thank the gods, for in their eternal wisdom, they hath forseen all things, and provided us with sarcasm."
You can't even say that you can't say something without being super negative.
Well, you ain't on the team that's trying to encourage folks to do good stuff better.
That ain't what you're doing.
No, see, you are engaging the "bad guys" in combat and trying to take away their right to talk and stuff.
Did you guys ever think about that?
What if your "bad guys" are only bad 'cause they're retarded and they don't know any better?
Ah, but its okay to go and be inhumane to 'em if they're stupid.
Or spoiled.
Hey, I'm just being nice about it 'cause yer an idiot.
Hey now, don't you accidentally try to hurt me, you don't even know what you are doing, you might hurt yourself!
Its still okay to the use the word "stupid," though.
That's weird.
I guess the stupid people haven't gotten around to voting yet.
And nobody cares about the stupid people like they care about the retarded people, so nobody votes in their place, like they do for the retarded people.
Everybody is all nice and protective of you, as long as you're retarded.
But move one little bump up the ladder to stupid and its like they wanna kill you when they get stuck behind you in traffic.
Its okay to want to kill stupid people.
But you can't even say the word retarded, 'cause you might hurt a retarded person's feelings.
That's weird, man.
I wonder if, one day, in the distant future, it'll be against the rules to say anything negative.
Its interesting to think about, y'know, this eventual blissful utopia that these happy pandas who-hate-stupid-people envision, where they get rid of all the negativity and you can't even say shit like "I think this milk is spoiled."
'Cause you might hurt the feelings of spoiled people.
Haha yah that would never work, 'cause we can always say stuff like "nice pants" and "oh that was really smart" ahaha.
"Thank the gods, for in their eternal wisdom, they hath forseen all things, and provided us with sarcasm."
You can't even say that you can't say something without being super negative.
Well, you ain't on the team that's trying to encourage folks to do good stuff better.
That ain't what you're doing.
No, see, you are engaging the "bad guys" in combat and trying to take away their right to talk and stuff.
Did you guys ever think about that?
What if your "bad guys" are only bad 'cause they're retarded and they don't know any better?
Ah, but its okay to go and be inhumane to 'em if they're stupid.
Or spoiled.
Hey, I'm just being nice about it 'cause yer an idiot.
Hey now, don't you accidentally try to hurt me, you don't even know what you are doing, you might hurt yourself!
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