lolz
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Monday, February 12, 2007
On Ice
I have come to the startling conclusion that not only are we not alone in this universe, but that
1. Anything is 100% funnier if you add the phrase "On Ice" to the end.
2. It's even funnier if you italicize it
Look-
Hamlet
Not very funny, eh?
Hamlet On Ice
Funny!
Hamlet On Ice
FUNNY!
It works with anything!
Look:
English Class
On Ice
Creative Writing
On (thin) Ice
Texas Chainsaw Massacre
On Ice
Dan Quayle
On Ice
Politics
On Ice
Ice
On Ice
Wait... no, not that last one... But you get the point.
On Ice
1. Anything is 100% funnier if you add the phrase "On Ice" to the end.
2. It's even funnier if you italicize it
Look-
Hamlet
Not very funny, eh?
Hamlet On Ice
Funny!
Hamlet On Ice
FUNNY!
It works with anything!
Look:
English Class
On Ice
Creative Writing
On (thin) Ice
Texas Chainsaw Massacre
On Ice
Dan Quayle
On Ice
Politics
On Ice
Ice
On Ice
Wait... no, not that last one... But you get the point.
On Ice
Sunday, February 11, 2007
My Initiation Post
Considering all my two posts have either been off-color or off-topic (both, actually) I've decided to write a little bit 'o humor.
Now, As the story begins-
The newest member of theMI7 , the not so British, not so trademarked, secret service, the new James Blond, or 008 (pronounced double-oh-eight), is out infiltrating an ebil, yes, ebil-because evil is trademarked now-base.
James Blond silently creeps down a hallway in this ebil base. He silently comes to a doorway, and silently draws his silenced pistol. He silently and dramatically turns the knob-wait, no, that's anti- climactic, silently and dramatically faces the keypad, with buttons labeled 1-9, but curiously no 0, pound, or star. He correctly has to enter one of the 729 correct 3-digit passwords to enter. Like this, it is scientifically impossible for him to go wrong.
Blond: I like those odds (He develops a nontrademarked sneer.)
He takes his silent gun, shoots the lock, kicks down the door, and shoots the two guards at the door-He was surprisingly silent, so he is not noticed. He turns toward the final hallway to the core reactor power doom destructovice.
His theme music starts playing quietly. He walks down the hallway silently. The music grows dramatically
Meanwhile in the core reactor power doom destructovice, a few guards are hanging out. Playing poker or something. Fragging each other on Counter Strike. Maybe Halo-ing... anyway, eventually they'll get busted for inappropriate use of the company's Poker Table, Gaming Computers and/or Xbox.
NYWAYZ, they decide to suddenly become partially alert for mere seconds-when they hear it-
It is-Theme Music!
Stormtrooper #1, or nameless Stormtrooper- My God! It's James Bond-I mean, It's James Blond!
Stormtrooper Rolf- Mel! Grab the Machine gun!
Stormtrooper Mel- Aye Rolf! Stand by the door!
Adolf Hitler- Heil!
Josef Stalin- Heil!
Rolf- Heil!
Mel- Heil!
Stalin- Now we will get him!
Bond burst in, ready to open a can of-dare I say it, whoop... I dare not say it, I live in a too Utahn Enviroment to say such things.
Anyway, Blond is interrupted in his can opening by a few untimely gunshots. Little late on the the draw, there, eh?
Anyway, that's the end of that, but Ideally, James Blond will be back, played by a different Scottish actor.
Now, As the story begins-
The newest member of the
James Blond silently creeps down a hallway in this ebil base. He silently comes to a doorway, and silently draws his silenced pistol. He silently and dramatically turns the knob-wait, no, that's anti- climactic, silently and dramatically faces the keypad, with buttons labeled 1-9, but curiously no 0, pound, or star. He correctly has to enter one of the 729 correct 3-digit passwords to enter. Like this, it is scientifically impossible for him to go wrong.
Blond: I like those odds (He develops a nontrademarked sneer.)
He takes his silent gun, shoots the lock, kicks down the door, and shoots the two guards at the door-He was surprisingly silent, so he is not noticed. He turns toward the final hallway to the core reactor power doom destructovice.
His theme music starts playing quietly. He walks down the hallway silently. The music grows dramatically
Meanwhile in the core reactor power doom destructovice, a few guards are hanging out. Playing poker or something. Fragging each other on Counter Strike. Maybe Halo-ing... anyway, eventually they'll get busted for inappropriate use of the company's Poker Table, Gaming Computers and/or Xbox.
NYWAYZ, they decide to suddenly become partially alert for mere seconds-when they hear it-
It is-Theme Music!
Stormtrooper #1, or nameless Stormtrooper- My God! It's James Bond-I mean, It's James Blond!
Stormtrooper Rolf- Mel! Grab the Machine gun!
Stormtrooper Mel- Aye Rolf! Stand by the door!
Adolf Hitler- Heil!
Josef Stalin- Heil!
Rolf- Heil!
Mel- Heil!
Stalin- Now we will get him!
Bond burst in, ready to open a can of-dare I say it, whoop... I dare not say it, I live in a too Utahn Enviroment to say such things.
Anyway, Blond is interrupted in his can opening by a few untimely gunshots. Little late on the the draw, there, eh?
Anyway, that's the end of that, but Ideally, James Blond will be back, played by a different Scottish actor.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Physics test
I just took a physics test. This has caused me to look deeper into myself and ask myself these three main questions that have befuddled all of humankind since the proverbial Beginning, namely:
1: Why are we here?
2: Where are we going?
3: What should I have for lunch?
With the first question referring to School (of course) and the second referring to which college we'll go to (of course).
I have answers for two of them.
1: Because we don't have any choice. Because of the stupid bureaucracy it doesn't matter how intelligent you are or what you plan on doing for a living, you still have to learn specific subjects at a specific rate.
2: I don't know about the rest of you suckers (should any suckers happen to fall into this blog. Not likely; if any were to do so they would be immediately consumed by me), but I'm going to BYU. Then Neumont. Yeah, that's right. I'm going to go to a nerd school so I can hang out with a bunch of geeks who think exactly like me and then get a job dorking around on a computer in a big corporation for the rest of my life. Deal with it.
3: This is the unanswerable question. As much as I would like to be able to tell you, I can't. The reason being: I have not had lunch yet, so my "lunch income variable" (L) is equal to zero and anyone knows that E (enjoyment of lunch) = T (time spent on a computer during lunch) * A (The number of things you achieve during lunch) all divided by L (amount of lunch). As you can see, my value for E is undefined, so I cannot answer this question. This probably means I will die of Lunch Deprivation before I turn nineteen, but hey. There are much worse ways to die, right? Right. Moving on.
In closing, I'd like to leave you with this message:
*ahem*
THIS IS NOT A CHIPMUNK.
Thank you. That is all.
I think I have messed up the size of my font. That inspires me to say "Oh crap, oh crap, I'm losing control." Thank you.
1: Why are we here?
2: Where are we going?
3: What should I have for lunch?
With the first question referring to School (of course) and the second referring to which college we'll go to (of course).
I have answers for two of them.
1: Because we don't have any choice. Because of the stupid bureaucracy it doesn't matter how intelligent you are or what you plan on doing for a living, you still have to learn specific subjects at a specific rate.
2: I don't know about the rest of you suckers (should any suckers happen to fall into this blog. Not likely; if any were to do so they would be immediately consumed by me), but I'm going to BYU. Then Neumont. Yeah, that's right. I'm going to go to a nerd school so I can hang out with a bunch of geeks who think exactly like me and then get a job dorking around on a computer in a big corporation for the rest of my life. Deal with it.
3: This is the unanswerable question. As much as I would like to be able to tell you, I can't. The reason being: I have not had lunch yet, so my "lunch income variable" (L) is equal to zero and anyone knows that E (enjoyment of lunch) = T (time spent on a computer during lunch) * A (The number of things you achieve during lunch) all divided by L (amount of lunch). As you can see, my value for E is undefined, so I cannot answer this question. This probably means I will die of Lunch Deprivation before I turn nineteen, but hey. There are much worse ways to die, right? Right. Moving on.
In closing, I'd like to leave you with this message:
*ahem*
THIS IS NOT A CHIPMUNK.
Thank you. That is all.
I think I have messed up the size of my font. That inspires me to say "Oh crap, oh crap, I'm losing control." Thank you.
Friday, January 26, 2007
The Little Mermaid
Now. You may well ask why I named this post "the little mermaid". I may well tell you.
....
....
However, we all know that you won't, and neither will I. That's right, I will allow you to wallow in the unassurance that comes with not knowing what I mean, namely utmost confusion. I find that what I say is usually an enigma in a mystery in a riddle all toped with a light drizzle of absurdity and a side order of insanity. Deal.
I believe I have already posted on the stealthiness of Matt. Allow me to reiterate: he is about as stealthy as a blender in a microwave. He has as much "prowl" ability as a 2nd grader. He is as noiseless as a rhinoceros in a china shop, stomping on a Chinaman who is screaming "Yawhoy! Yawhoy! Chanko-sah! Nee! Nee nee!! Ha shong-ka lo fai!!" You get the idea. He is stealthX10^(-infinity) . He is as stealthy as a bouncy ball killing a train.
I realize that didn't make any sense. Shove it proverbially. "Thou shalt not seek to find a meaning in the previous statement, for behold, they are good, and mighty to be understood. They shall rend thee in pieces and pull thee down into the depths of woe and despair, which is the master of all who seek it. Thou shalt pretend to read thy bible once in a year, for behold, from the bible is begotten wealth, and from wealth is begotten pride, and from pride is begotten tragedious happenings of a most agregious nature, and from tragedious happenings of a most agregious nature is begotten humility (unless it be unto death), and from humility is begotten wealth to buy more bibles, yea, even those bibles which are mighty to save, yea, even those bibles which shalt give unto thee McDonald's food at a reduced price..."
I believe I've made my point.
I think I've made myself clear.
....
....
However, we all know that you won't, and neither will I. That's right, I will allow you to wallow in the unassurance that comes with not knowing what I mean, namely utmost confusion. I find that what I say is usually an enigma in a mystery in a riddle all toped with a light drizzle of absurdity and a side order of insanity. Deal.
I believe I have already posted on the stealthiness of Matt. Allow me to reiterate: he is about as stealthy as a blender in a microwave. He has as much "prowl" ability as a 2nd grader. He is as noiseless as a rhinoceros in a china shop, stomping on a Chinaman who is screaming "Yawhoy! Yawhoy! Chanko-sah! Nee! Nee nee!! Ha shong-ka lo fai!!" You get the idea. He is stealthX10^(-infinity) . He is as stealthy as a bouncy ball killing a train.
I realize that didn't make any sense. Shove it proverbially. "Thou shalt not seek to find a meaning in the previous statement, for behold, they are good, and mighty to be understood. They shall rend thee in pieces and pull thee down into the depths of woe and despair, which is the master of all who seek it. Thou shalt pretend to read thy bible once in a year, for behold, from the bible is begotten wealth, and from wealth is begotten pride, and from pride is begotten tragedious happenings of a most agregious nature, and from tragedious happenings of a most agregious nature is begotten humility (unless it be unto death), and from humility is begotten wealth to buy more bibles, yea, even those bibles which are mighty to save, yea, even those bibles which shalt give unto thee McDonald's food at a reduced price..."
I believe I've made my point.
I think I've made myself clear.
Monday, January 15, 2007
( o ) ( o )
There was a time...once upon a time...once upon a time, before wolfmanrec, before the time of bloggers...a time where mass chain fwds represented the ideas of the majority of the (stupid) public, typos ran rampant, and people thought with their rear ends.
This time is over now, although I will always remember it. It was my awakening to the world...the people who vote because the candidate was their cousin, the people who bring their cameras to school to break rules, the people who call themselves in the middle of a movie so others would notice.
This attitude was present in the majority of my middle school life, and now I have found it has simply upgraded, not done away with. This does not mean that there are/were others who didn't conform to this horrible way of thinking. But they were few and far between. Even those who understood how silly this way of life was...they were unwilling to give it up. It was too rewarding. Rewarding in the way they wanted. Even now many of them only understand half-way...and I am slowly realizing my influence on them is declining gradually, stereotype by stereotype.
Stereotypes were what kept these people from thinking. It was common that they would turn their ears off before you spoke; skip your email as long as it was more than two sentences. These people hated thinking like a nightmare from the past. So I was forced to approach them in new ways. I had to surprise them into thinking before they could come up with a stereotype to flush it out.
And again, there were a few times it worked. Especially those who didn't have the latest cell-phone. Not that the modern world I live in is hard to compete with. They're generally pretty excepting. But there were still others who weren't good enough. That has changed. Now there's a clique for anyone who wants to join. But I wasn't after a clique for everyone. I wanted to do away with them completely.
And so I found my plans again flawed. I tried...and tried. And yet there were still only a small minority that wished to cross over. The rest would never read this blog. The rest would never compare it to their own life.
I, after all, am only a fictional character...yes...my name is Sinetar Vylax. Some of you might recognize it. I created Sinetar to act as an influencing block outside the current stereotyped associated with me...with Sinetar, I could find and explore new places. I really wanted to find out how these people thought. It was strange...something I hadn't encountered in the same way ever before. More of this later.
This time is over now, although I will always remember it. It was my awakening to the world...the people who vote because the candidate was their cousin, the people who bring their cameras to school to break rules, the people who call themselves in the middle of a movie so others would notice.
This attitude was present in the majority of my middle school life, and now I have found it has simply upgraded, not done away with. This does not mean that there are/were others who didn't conform to this horrible way of thinking. But they were few and far between. Even those who understood how silly this way of life was...they were unwilling to give it up. It was too rewarding. Rewarding in the way they wanted. Even now many of them only understand half-way...and I am slowly realizing my influence on them is declining gradually, stereotype by stereotype.
Stereotypes were what kept these people from thinking. It was common that they would turn their ears off before you spoke; skip your email as long as it was more than two sentences. These people hated thinking like a nightmare from the past. So I was forced to approach them in new ways. I had to surprise them into thinking before they could come up with a stereotype to flush it out.
And again, there were a few times it worked. Especially those who didn't have the latest cell-phone. Not that the modern world I live in is hard to compete with. They're generally pretty excepting. But there were still others who weren't good enough. That has changed. Now there's a clique for anyone who wants to join. But I wasn't after a clique for everyone. I wanted to do away with them completely.
And so I found my plans again flawed. I tried...and tried. And yet there were still only a small minority that wished to cross over. The rest would never read this blog. The rest would never compare it to their own life.
I, after all, am only a fictional character...yes...my name is Sinetar Vylax. Some of you might recognize it. I created Sinetar to act as an influencing block outside the current stereotyped associated with me...with Sinetar, I could find and explore new places. I really wanted to find out how these people thought. It was strange...something I hadn't encountered in the same way ever before. More of this later.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Don't Eat KGB.
Transitive fat and poisons (i.e. Polonium) are making KGB a terrible place to eat. Their Chickens are raised in GULAGS! Their worker serve long hours! It is even worse than the Dreaded WalMart!
BOYCOTT KGB!
-picture edited for political content (link in comments)- stealthymatt
BOYCOTT KGB!
An ounce of research is worth... (repost from another blog)
Nothing, apparently.
I read in the paper recently ;) that over 40% of our hardearned taxes are being spent on food in the white house per year. Food. In the white house. Food.
…Food.
Think about that. Think about all the taxes you pay. Out of your taxes, 40% of it goes to the President’s bacon and eggs in the morning. Those better be some TOP QUALITY eggs! I refuse to pay for anything else for that much.
Caviar. Scrambled caviar. Ick…
Maybe it’s actually going to fund secret military projects and the code name is “white house food”. I imagine the conversations between the CO and a grunt…
CO: How’s your “Operation: Roast Beef” coming?
Grunt: It’s not too bad. I’m running out of men though. Send me some from “Operation: Mashed Potatoes.”
CO: Alright. Do you want normal soldiers or Special Gravy Forces operatives?
Grunt: Little of both.
CO: Do you want “FRIES” with that?
Grunt: Yes, the “Frantically Rising Initiative of Everlasting Salvation” is well known for great soldiers.
CO: I’ll see what I can do.
siren sounds
CO: Incoming! Man your “meatloaf cannons”, men!So you see, there is no way that this is feasible. No feasible way, anyway.
Do you think very much research went into this?
No. None at all, in fact.
Which proves my point..
..okay, not really.
I read in the paper recently ;) that over 40% of our hardearned taxes are being spent on food in the white house per year. Food. In the white house. Food.
…Food.
Think about that. Think about all the taxes you pay. Out of your taxes, 40% of it goes to the President’s bacon and eggs in the morning. Those better be some TOP QUALITY eggs! I refuse to pay for anything else for that much.
Caviar. Scrambled caviar. Ick…
Maybe it’s actually going to fund secret military projects and the code name is “white house food”. I imagine the conversations between the CO and a grunt…
CO: How’s your “Operation: Roast Beef” coming?
Grunt: It’s not too bad. I’m running out of men though. Send me some from “Operation: Mashed Potatoes.”
CO: Alright. Do you want normal soldiers or Special Gravy Forces operatives?
Grunt: Little of both.
CO: Do you want “FRIES” with that?
Grunt: Yes, the “Frantically Rising Initiative of Everlasting Salvation” is well known for great soldiers.
CO: I’ll see what I can do.
siren sounds
CO: Incoming! Man your “meatloaf cannons”, men!So you see, there is no way that this is feasible. No feasible way, anyway.
Do you think very much research went into this?
No. None at all, in fact.
Which proves my point..
..okay, not really.
Why Every Girl Is Lame (repost)
This is another one of my famous posts, which I am reposting because it is awesome.
_______________________________________________________________
Okay, this is sort of a sidetract from the current war with Rick the wolfman (currently under the alias of wolfmanrec), but every girl is lame.
They just are. They can only like you when you don't know about it. Us guys, on the other hand, usually don't start liking them until we've found out they like us. This clash may be responsible for the large increase in divorce. But us guys are sensible. Why like someone who we don't even have a chance with? The ultimate goal is to go out with them, isn't it?
But if you've ever been to Pluto (or is it Mars?), you might have noticed a huge contrast in opinion. Liking someone is secret. No one wants to deal with the awkwardness and responsibility of having someone know you like them (what would you do, anyways?), it's just too much responsibility. The pretend boyfriend is much better for them than the real enchilada. Or if you're from france, maybe you'd say "la crepe."
The point is, they think they can describe us in words like crepe and enchilada, as if we were some kind of overpriced entree. Or a cheap fish taco. Whichever you choose.
To this, I just have one thing to say. This crab isn't vouching for dinner tonight. In fact, he's running. Running far away. Scuttling, actually (him being a crab). Scuttling sideways with an awkward scuttle.
My aunt just walked in and started laughing when she saw "Nerd Humor" on the title. stupid Rick. idiot. I'm sick of this crap. Techies better take over the world someday. It's our only chance :P
"Techies better take over the world someday, it's our only chance :P" -wise words (and a cool smiley face) from I (me).
_______________________________________________________________
Okay, this is sort of a sidetract from the current war with Rick the wolfman (currently under the alias of wolfmanrec), but every girl is lame.
They just are. They can only like you when you don't know about it. Us guys, on the other hand, usually don't start liking them until we've found out they like us. This clash may be responsible for the large increase in divorce. But us guys are sensible. Why like someone who we don't even have a chance with? The ultimate goal is to go out with them, isn't it?
But if you've ever been to Pluto (or is it Mars?), you might have noticed a huge contrast in opinion. Liking someone is secret. No one wants to deal with the awkwardness and responsibility of having someone know you like them (what would you do, anyways?), it's just too much responsibility. The pretend boyfriend is much better for them than the real enchilada. Or if you're from france, maybe you'd say "la crepe."
The point is, they think they can describe us in words like crepe and enchilada, as if we were some kind of overpriced entree. Or a cheap fish taco. Whichever you choose.
To this, I just have one thing to say. This crab isn't vouching for dinner tonight. In fact, he's running. Running far away. Scuttling, actually (him being a crab). Scuttling sideways with an awkward scuttle.
My aunt just walked in and started laughing when she saw "Nerd Humor" on the title. stupid Rick. idiot. I'm sick of this crap. Techies better take over the world someday. It's our only chance :P
"Techies better take over the world someday, it's our only chance :P" -wise words (and a cool smiley face) from I (me).
My Worst Fears (repost)
This post marked the coming of the accursed wolfmanrec, and is especially notable for its historical value.
uh oh. I was fearing this. like a bad nightmare. like that time I had taken two cookies on grandparents day and I knew everyone knew...even if they didn't know. they knew in their hearts. or their heart. whichever.the point is that i've been fearing this for a long time. what, you say? well, did you read the last post?For some time now this wolfmanrec (what's with the rec anyways?) has been chasing me. trying to find someway into my blog and pervert it. make it full of spam like
"hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha"etc. and random statements like coffee that let the rest of theworld think we drink it every morning.
As of late, I am feeling this will be my last post before this wolfmanrec takes me over entirely. what once used to be abstract philosophy that no one read now has turned into what I call *humor* spam and random statements (most regardless of the reader's young and tender age) that gets sent on huge fwds that people across the world read.
"Oh ye people, Arghh!!" -Sinbad the Sailor
"Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha..."
-the one who's name we do not speak (except when we have to) this..........this..........(continuous ...)... man. or wolf. or wolf man. or wolf man rec. or man named Rick that's a wolf. Wolfman named Rick. wolfmanRick. Rick the wolfman. whatever you choose to call him.This is for some strange reason reminding me of a Strongbad email. Except I'm the good one, and Rick the wolf is the bad. I'm like the strong...he's the bad. very bad. evil. like cheese on brocolli for dinner when you're starving. wolfmanRick bad.And so, in conclusion, although the blog might continue (with a large raise in readers), it is now apparent that we will never talk about something important again unless it has to do with coffee. How sad. I'm bauling my tears out. or rather bauling my eyes out. I'm going blind. Luckily I can still type without looking. That gives me a few seconds. How about some more quotes.
"hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha......" wolfmanrec
If you've read this much (few people do) I'm already dead. You might see me at school, but my soul is gone. He took it.
"hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha......" wolfmanrec."ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah!!!!!!"
my last words."coffee :P" my last words and expression.
uh oh. I was fearing this. like a bad nightmare. like that time I had taken two cookies on grandparents day and I knew everyone knew...even if they didn't know. they knew in their hearts. or their heart. whichever.the point is that i've been fearing this for a long time. what, you say? well, did you read the last post?For some time now this wolfmanrec (what's with the rec anyways?) has been chasing me. trying to find someway into my blog and pervert it. make it full of spam like
"hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha"etc. and random statements like coffee that let the rest of theworld think we drink it every morning.
As of late, I am feeling this will be my last post before this wolfmanrec takes me over entirely. what once used to be abstract philosophy that no one read now has turned into what I call *humor* spam and random statements (most regardless of the reader's young and tender age) that gets sent on huge fwds that people across the world read.
"Oh ye people, Arghh!!" -Sinbad the Sailor
"Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha..."
-the one who's name we do not speak (except when we have to) this..........this..........(continuous ...)... man. or wolf. or wolf man. or wolf man rec. or man named Rick that's a wolf. Wolfman named Rick. wolfmanRick. Rick the wolfman. whatever you choose to call him.This is for some strange reason reminding me of a Strongbad email. Except I'm the good one, and Rick the wolf is the bad. I'm like the strong...he's the bad. very bad. evil. like cheese on brocolli for dinner when you're starving. wolfmanRick bad.And so, in conclusion, although the blog might continue (with a large raise in readers), it is now apparent that we will never talk about something important again unless it has to do with coffee. How sad. I'm bauling my tears out. or rather bauling my eyes out. I'm going blind. Luckily I can still type without looking. That gives me a few seconds. How about some more quotes.
"hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha......" wolfmanrec
If you've read this much (few people do) I'm already dead. You might see me at school, but my soul is gone. He took it.
"hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha......" wolfmanrec."ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah!!!!!!"
my last words."coffee :P" my last words and expression.
All hail the hailibility!
I welcome myself to the lowly realm of Blog Humor-I come to enlighten, to preach, to use bad Grammor! (And Splelimg.)
The Blogosphere shall pale before my power!
The Blogosphere shall pale before my power!
Friday, January 05, 2007
scooters, vacation, fall
I just saw the thing at the bottom of the screen that says
"Labels for this post".
Underneath it, it says
"e.g. scooters, vacation, fall"
What is this foolishness? Are we so attached to our labels that we're labeling our blog posts now??? I feel I must enact a revolution.
*ahem*
Rise up, my brethren! Let us revolt! Ask not who we shall revolt, but who against! We shall fight for freedom and liberty from post labels, for pie, and for the Flying Spaghetti Monster (may he bless us with his noodlyness forever)!! We shall fight until we have recieved sufficient postage for a letter to the complaint department...
hm. Maybe that's not quite as inspirational as I'd hoped. It gets worse on page 42...
...and then we shall force feed ourselves oatmeal until they've had enough! Then we'll hit a duck!...
And by page 302 it doesn't matter anymore, because most people have already killed themselves...
...GARGH AEWRIO WER AEWR G BAERGHEWR WERGER R BER!!! AERG AQWERH! AERHAER? NO! AWERBW ERB ER ERHGQER FVAS TJ AD OPTRH QWER JHOAS! QUOCKLE!...
So you see, if we had simply ignored the post labels in the first place, we wouldn't have had this problem.
...
So there.
"Labels for this post".
Underneath it, it says
"e.g. scooters, vacation, fall"
What is this foolishness? Are we so attached to our labels that we're labeling our blog posts now??? I feel I must enact a revolution.
*ahem*
Rise up, my brethren! Let us revolt! Ask not who we shall revolt, but who against! We shall fight for freedom and liberty from post labels, for pie, and for the Flying Spaghetti Monster (may he bless us with his noodlyness forever)!! We shall fight until we have recieved sufficient postage for a letter to the complaint department...
hm. Maybe that's not quite as inspirational as I'd hoped. It gets worse on page 42...
...and then we shall force feed ourselves oatmeal until they've had enough! Then we'll hit a duck!...
And by page 302 it doesn't matter anymore, because most people have already killed themselves...
...GARGH AEWRIO WER AEWR G BAERGHEWR WERGER R BER!!! AERG AQWERH! AERHAER? NO! AWERBW ERB ER ERHGQER FVAS TJ AD OPTRH QWER JHOAS! QUOCKLE!...
So you see, if we had simply ignored the post labels in the first place, we wouldn't have had this problem.
...
So there.
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