Taste my fear, my children. For I am really fantastic at foosball. Also, reaping your eternal souls blah blah blah...
I was trying to download a Gif Animator to provide you with more inane dancing vampires. The first search result was Animoids 3d Movie Maker. Guess what it's for? At press time, it had 185,000 downloads or so. This is really bad.
That's a fairly good portion of the Earth's population, a suspicious number, really. A big enough slice to perhaps represent the same people who brought us Flintstones/Jetsons gangbang images. A thing my poor young eyes never needed to see. Then came furry art. Then came soulbonding. Now we have group of people the size of a small city with the ability to easily and quickly put together videos of Liongoats with the head of Al Sharpton fucking a firetruck made of doves. Do we need this?
I still made time to make it.
This army of memory rapers shouldn't have tools like this at their disposal.
YOGHURT TYME!
Is "no effort" funny?
So earlier I mentioned Seventeen Magazine. Hold on for a second. The song "Floe" from the Glassworks album by Philip Glass is fucking sweet. It feels like a massive rubberband. The way the band swells in and out with these EPIC French horns just feels grand. Then you hear some fucked up woodwind and the orchestra goes berserk. With every tweet, it gets closer to collapsing. Then when its screaming like a scared whale, it stops. Dead. You hear the horns' surrendering dirge. Then the flutes help them out, and everything is coming back in sync. The collage of basses working to fuel the whole thing along. Goddamn, it's really good. So anyhow. I wrote this letter because I was embarrassed.
I felt I too should share in this forum of misery. Why not? I was seventeen at one point. I deserve an outlet for the suffering of everyday drudgery. My letter was as follows:
Dear Seventeen Embarrassment Article Thing,
Just recently I've suffered a vaguely humorous personal ego downer. I was in the process of filing my taxes at the Tax Hole. However, due to a Bureaucratic mishap, I had the wrong forms. My ego was completely injured, and when told of this, I...stole the secretary's wallet. I feel terrible because, frankly, you should replace "wallet" with "Fake Arm I Thought Was a Coat Rack". You understand my dilemma. It was kind of funny. I'm doing OK.
-Dan
WHY THE FUCK WON'T YOU RESPOND, SEVENTEEN?
Am I not good enough to share my Krafkaeske experience? I HATE YOU.
I think I'm going to be OK.
OMG!?
Since Uncle Jerry's passing, old Scuttlebones just ain't the same. Every time he hears an ambulance, I gotta feed him the Spaghetti-O's or he just loses his shit. Killed our other parrot. Yesterday. His name was Spiderknuckles.
Dear Lord,
Make more people like this man. In God Be Thy Name...right? I forgot how to end these...A-mon.
I want to be this man so bad.
Boards Of Canada - "Dayvan Cowboy"
Best Song Ever.
I want to be this building.
Kid 606 - "Sometimes"
This song melts ice cream prematurely. Kind of makes me want to watch Angels In The Outfield.
-Unlke Montees Busbowl Sups
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Last Week I Wrote A Letter To Seventeen Magazine
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1 comment:
Hoodie Hoo!
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