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In any event, here's a post of interest only to one person that I'm aware of, though I do recommend the film involved to anyone in the mood for weird -- it turns out that the entire film "WAX, or the Discover of Television Among the Bees" is available at the auteur's website, http://jefferson.village.virginia.edu/wax/english/1movie/1all/F/1/1a1a2a1.html

The film is viewable in segments, which somehow makes for an even stranger experience; each segment is accompanied by a sort of expansion/dissection, which doesn't exactly clarify anything.  There are also segments available for a new film, which either isn't complete or isn't completely available online; the segments that can be viewed are indeed intriguing.

Incidentally, "Melissa" is Greek for "honeybee", from the root "mel" meaning "honey".

Current Location: Alamagordo NM
Current Mood: depressed very depressed
Current Music: eh

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and, uh, that's all really.  There it is.

Oh, and I also started a separate journal for Harry Potter related material so's not to clog up allayall's friends page with it.  If this interests you visit pottersleuth and if it does not, then do not.

Current Mood: sleepy sleepy

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"Ramona Quimby, Age 8" was published in 1981, '81 - 8 = '73, so I'm about the same age as Ramona Quimby.

'cept that she's been about that age since 1955 or so, whereas I stopped being about that age in the early '80's.

It's a strange thing to discover.


Also, Indiana Jones gives more credit to the American reader than Harry Potter.

Current Location: Klickitat Street
Current Mood: weird bouncy purple star

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Now don't get me wrong.  I am entirely behind the idea here.  I get amazingly pissed off at the bizarre, inexplicable, and quite frankly kinda gay swerve the current culture has taken against women who are shaped like women rather than eleven-year-old boys.  I like the fact that these LJ groups exist.  And Synj, huni, loves ya lots and I'm sorry we don't hang around the same places as often as we used to.  Loves to your boy too, wonder if he still does that spot-on Jon Lovitz voice.

Just so you know I'm not making fun of you.

But still...I couldn't help but giggle when I noticed your membership to four different groups based on being prominent in the sweater section.  :D
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For fans of Inexplicable Objects, for devotees of Absoludicrous Video, for all who appreciate the cream of the crap, I give you:  lol.com.

At first sight, it's just disappointing.  Yeah, big whoop, it's a collection of the same stupid jokes someone at the office thinks it's hilarious to flood the group emails with.  But keep clicking, and you begin to see the hidden treasures here.

Not good jokes.  Lawsy lawsy no.  Terrible jokes.  In terms of general joke quality, the best you'll get is okay-but-you've-heard-it-a-million-times.  No, good humor is not the secret quality underlying the magic of lol.com.

What's hiding here is a deep vein of pure, uncut totally fucking insane.

Jokes that come from the deepest recesses (ahem) of gradeschool, the kind entertaining only to those who don't yet know what those parts are actually for or really even where they're located, apparently submitted by actual third graders.  Jokes that seem to have been part of some mailing list, and have been assaulted by humorless drones who felt compelled to add extra 'zingers' (needless 'quotes' included) that totally murder the humor to death by killing as lethally as the motivational-poster frame gag does to otherwise amusing images on thefunniest.info.  Jokes that aren't funny to begin with, but take on a kind of demented genius by their presentation: interjections telling you when to be on alert for the punchline, irrationally long and complicated setups for very simple concepts, "Quotations that open but never close, lines of dots that would be ellipses if they didn't go on for so long...........CAPS and EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!! laid in where you least expect them?!?

Better than half of the lol.com content appears to have been submitted by people who are a) psychotic, b) not native English speakers, c) retarded, d) eight, e) not entirely familiar with keyboards, or f) some combination of at least three of these.

There's the Penguin story, a lame joke elevated to new heights...or depths...or something...by the strangely lyrical and ornamented text leading up to the pedestrian punchline.  There's the Big Orange Head, funny only because it makes no sense.  There are at least three versions of the old On Blueberry Hill joke, none of which use the musical phrase 'on Blueberry Hill'.  There's a blonde who is filled with panic and a giggle, a mirror that if you tell it a lie you are sucked into it ('shazam!'), the experiment with the worms, and "three people -- let's say a three friends".

And then there's The Joke.

It's the Shaggy Dog Story of the Sphinx.  It's a masterpiece of surrealism.  Any attempt to understand The Joke as it progresses is undermined by the next clause afterward.  The whole thing reads not only as though it were an attempt to transcribe a dream, but as though it were somehow written by someone who actually was asleep.  If an alien race came to Earth looking to understand this Earthling concept of 'hu-mor', and found this, the best we could hope for is complete vaporization.

In a few humble paragraphs The Joke presents a window into the unfortunate processes of the human mind as deep and perplexing as the entire running time of Mr. T's Be Somebody or Be Somebody's Fool.  I could spend hours analysing The Joke, right down to the level of individual words, and still fail to grasp its numinous, neurotic beauty.

Before attempting any such analysis, though, I will simply present The Joke and let it speak,  however incoherently, for itself.

Remember, this is the whole joke.  Somebody, somewhere, presumably a member of our species, deliberately typed this and submitted it as an example of humor:


A blonde, brunette,and a red head all try out for a play. In a scene, an actor has to slap them so the man slaps the brunette on her right cheek so she turns her head to the left. Then he slaps the red head on her right cheek and she turns her head left. Then he slaps the blonde and she slaps him back and says " Man, Why Did you just slap me?"

And he says, "Because it was in the scene!"

And she says, "I don't care if God told you to slap the priest you do not slap me or any other blondes"

And he says, "What other blondes? Your the last blonde on Earth."

And then she says "What do you mean?"

He says, " We're in a movie, fairytale, and a novel. How the heck did you not know that?"

She says, " Oh. Well if we're on TV then how did we get out of the TV?"


It's well established that a thin line separates genius from madness.  This 'joke' proves that an equally thin border separates both from blithering idiocy.

Current Location: On Cherry Hill
Current Mood: blank awed
Current Music: no

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Just because I wanted to make some kind of record of this, and can't seem to log in to the Mugglenet.com forums for some reason, here's my one contribution to Harry Potter 7 speculation -- even though the entire intersection of people who a) read this journal and b) care at all about Harry Potter have already heard it in person.

So, point one: artifacts of the Hogwarts founders.  From Hufflepuff we have a cup, from Slytherin a ring and a locket, all of them established as Horcruxes.  From Godric Gryffindor the only known artifact is a sword, which for various reasons is unlikely to be a Horcrux but is certainly something old He-Who would have wanted to make one.

Reading either locket or ring as reasonably close to coin / gem / disc, you don't need to be much of an occultist to notice the missing element in the sequence cup-sword-precious stone.  The symbolism of these suits in most Tarot decks fits reasonably well with the personalities and values of their respective owners, and the missing suit of Wands fits exceptionally well with the persona of Ravena Ravenclaw.

Point two: near the beginning of HBP there is a discussion of various witches and wizards who have gone missing since Snake-Face's return, some of whom may have been abducted or killed by Death Eaters, while others might have gone voluntarily.  Among the names mentioned is Ollvander's -- regarding whom specifically, Neville Longbottom mentions that he is probably the last person to receive a wand from Ollivander's shop.

Rowling's style being what it is, we can naturally assume that this little bit of passing trivia concerning Neville's new wand is just flavor text with no real significance...

Current Location: Epoch
Current Mood: nerdy nerdy
Current Music: Something loud and whiny

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"The H-E-B Fully Cooked(r) Burger is so good it rivals memories of your best burger eating experience."

Leaving aside the fact that the HEB marketing people thought 'Fully Cooked' was both a really catchy brand name and a phrase worth registering (was 'Not Raw!' taken?), and the fact that for all they know, my best burger eating experience could have been that one time we were having a cookout when the Bikini Creatures from Lustulon VI invaded, still...it rivals memories of eating burgers?  Wouldn't it be more effective to claim that it rivals, y'know, the burgers?

"These burgers have a handmade look and "Fresh off the Grill" flavor."

Can't imagine why they didn't also trademark the phrase "Fresh off the Grill" -- quotes included in the trademark, naturally, because as frozen precooked patties they aren't fresh off anything.  'Handmade look' is important; after all, we like homemade burgers because of what they look like, right?  Since these burgers are considerably less 'handmade' than, say, a Ford Taurus, the 'handmade look' refers to the fact that their patty-stamping mold is slightly bumpy around the edges rather than perfectly circular, and they have grill-marks printed on them.

"Best of all, you can have a thick, juicy hamburger ready to eat in just a few minutes."

Whereas shaping your own patties and frying them can take upwards of several minutes!  I do have to grant that 'thick' and 'juicy' are indeed attributes of the patties, in a degree which even a sane and unpaid individual could recognize, which makes this use of adjectives close to unique in the world of packaging.

"Our Fully Cooked(r) Burger, heated in the microwave, is as good as any burger cooked on the grill.  We guarantee it or double your money back."

Wow, they sure are confident of all that the Fully Cooked(r) name stands for.  Although I presume that, in reality, HEB just shoots coupons back out at anyone who goes to the effort of complaining, it's amusing to contemplate the image of the company defending this claim in court:

"I'll ask once again, Mrs. Colson, and let me remind you that you are under oath: did you enjoy the microwaved burgers?"

"It's true!  It's true-hoo-hooo (sob!)  They were as tasty and juicy as -- as anything I've ever grilled!  (breaks down in tears)"

In conclusion, I'll happily declare that the HEB Fully Cooked(r) Burgers are good, better than most frozen microwavable foods ("AHA!  Your Honor, I rest my case.").  Nevertheless, the next time you throw together some copy at the end of a Friday afternoon in the packaging department of a major food supplier (like you do), be warned that there is a chance -- a small but real chance -- that someone might actually bother to read it one day.

Seriously -- ''rivals memories of your best burger eating experience"?  That's not marketing, that's just typesetting.

Current Location: the Internet
Current Mood: bouncy burgerful
Current Music: workers with heavy machinery in the alley outside

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Interesting that people who say, of a given work or genre, 'you either love it or hate it', almost invariably themselves either love it or claim indifference to it.
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I'm voting for the Gorton's Fisherman.  He is a forthright and trustworthy man, with the nerve to face the fiercest nor'easter* and the courage to wear that lush, puffy 1970's hair and beard since, according to the label, 1849.  I am sure that, while his tales of life on the sea are invariably enthralling to all assembled, he has also the quiet strength of character never to dominate the evening's conversation...even though, secretly, every guest is looking sidelong at his firm yet friendly visage and wishing, ever wishing, that he would speak further.

Though I fail to do justice to his reliable, quintessentially American minced-fish products by cooking them in the microwave -- despite the clear admonition on the package that this preparation method is not recommended -- still they are tasty and nourishing, if not as crispy as they might be cooked on an ungreased cookie sheet in a conventional oven.  Though he would undoubtedly roll his eyes in good-humored distaste at the microwaved fish sticks, I know he would still find private satisfaction knowing that, when I have fifteen of them for a late-night dinner, I will go to bed having eaten a good solid 5 oz. equivalent meat and 5 serving of bread alternate for child nutrition pattern requirements, as defined and authorized by the Food and Nutrition Service, USDA 11-05.

I trust the Gorton's Fisherman.  And I vote.


* I believe this is a form of severe storm, but if it is not then substitute an appropriately fierce nautical phenomenon.

Current Location: in close proximity to hot fish sticks
Current Mood: content content, with fish sticks
Current Music: None, but that jingle is running through my head

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First, read this short comic strip featuring cats

How can this website/service not exist?  Seriously, how is that even possible?

There's something wrong with my browser, that's all.  It's looking up some kind of fake internet -- some kind of illusion put forth by a, a anti-Internet of some kind.

This is a test of faith.

Current Location: in existential crisis
Current Mood: confused confused
Current Music: Unexpected alarms from the microwave

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