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YodaBelmont
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Name: Marty
Country: United States
State: Michigan
Gender: Male
Interests: Well, apparently I'm an expert at...What the? Wrong field!
Expertise: I like mittens!
Message: message me
Member Since:
10/16/2003
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| Sperm whale! Sperm whale! Sperm whale!
Bwahahaha!!!
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| While spending another sleepless morning wasting time before class, I
decided to watch Dora the Explorer. And I have no idea exactly
what the fuck I saw. There were greasy stars, dancing dragons,
Spanish-speaking drawbridges and a dastardly thieving fox. This was all
in the last 10 minutes of this affair.
Apparently Dora's objective, along with her simian talking companion,
was to get to a castle to tell a king how to get his magic floating
crown. To get there, they had to use the word "por favor"
constantly, repetitively, unendingly, and perhaps tediously. "Por
favor" of course meaning "please" in Spanish. However, not once
during my viewing did I hear it explained what it meant in English, but
they could have said that earlier in the episode. I had to rely
on my old high school training to figure it out. This show is
apparently laden with random Spanish in an attempt to get children
started on the path to being bilingual. I'm so glad that there's
now an irritating and useless childrens' program for that too, now.
Anyway, upon seeing the drawbridge, they command it to lower the
bridge. As circumstance would have it, it was a Spanish speaking
bridge. Shocking. No wonder people speak of having an
official language. If you can't even get the bridge to do its'
task without picking up a dictionary, maybe you have a point. Of
course, for Dora, this was not much of a problem. She leveled her
vacant bug-eyed stare and vacuous grin upon the screen and shouted at
the top of her lungs, "Abajo, por favor!" Translated to English
for the Spanish impaired, it's "Down, please!" Actually, I relate
this incorrectly. The people she commanded were the
audience. As she gazed at us with her dead eyes, she bade us
speak those dreaded words. She repeated the words at least three
times in a voice shrill and piercing enough for the bridge to clearly
hear and comprehend the command, but it was not for her voice that the
bridge waited. It was...ours!
Never have I felt such empowerment, such involvement with a television
program! They understood that indeed I was the viewer and that
indeed I was willing to do whatever they commanded. With a voice
as equally high-pitched and saccharine I shouted, "Abajo, por
favor!" Lo and behold, the bridge was lowered!
A thrill rushed through me as I realized my bidding had been
obeyed. All those other times I had shouted at the screen,
pleaded for the tiny people in the television to hear me and at least
acknowledge my existence...I realized now why they didn't seem to hear
me. I was speaking in the wrong language. Now, armed with
Spanish, I could have characters make me some damned pie with but a
simple command!
Dora and her compatriots continued on their useless and pointless
adventure but I paid them no heed. I was about to test my
newfound powers on other subjects. Switching quickly to ESPN, I
noted the coverage of some tennis event. I hear they have one in
England every once in a while. Supposedly an important
affair. Not important enough! With the simple command of
"Dame commida!", I expected a parade of food from my now helpless
supplicant sportcasters. After nothing happened, I repeated my
command. Still no response. My stomach rumbled and roiled
in protest, yet no remedy was on its way. For the third time, I
repeated myself and was yet again ignored. What could be wrong?
Suddenly, I was struck with a bolt of cold, cruel realization.
Dora had LIED! That vile, bowl-headed witch had led me to believe
that I could control the world with my mastery of Spanish! She
had punctured my whole world of truth with her terrible rending talons
of falsehood. I was broken, crestfallen, and most of all, still
hungry. So, what did I do? I changed back to Dora the
Explorer to exact my revenge!
Upon returning, I found that she, the king, and some kinda crowd were
gathered at the castle telling a fox to go away. A true thief
would have taken what he wanted then absconded with it. However,
this fox-thief apparently has the will power of a dorito. When
everyone told him to stop and go away, he essentially did just
that. There would be no thievery for the fox, there would be no
revenge for me. The crown rested upon the king's brow, and my
heart rested in a shallow grave of misery.
However, before I completely crumpled in to a ball of sobbing fury, a
song filled the air. There was dancing...rejoicing! There
was a purple dragon! Everyone danced now! I too was
infected by this horrible virus and I too got up and got down. No
one was safe!
The lesson here is that childrens' cartoons lie. It is much like
life, a greater lie. The only truth I know is that I still didn't
get my damn food. Oh, and my girlfriend used to have Dora's
haircut. That's true too.
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| So here's something interesting. I've watched more TV this week
than I have in a long time. And I'm not even watching interesting
shows. I blame it on the fact that the air-conditioning unit is
in the living room, and that's where the TV is. Tomorrow is
supposed to be 90 degrees. Guess where I'll be.
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| Ok. Here we go. A new freaking post dated almost six months
after the last. Today we discuss a variety of topics of my
choosing, and I reserve the right to actually only discuss one
topic. Depends on how much I got in my tank.
First off, I shall discuss a horrid phenomenon known as heat. As
of right now in my apartment, it is 78 degrees. 78 goddamn
degrees. Anything above 75 and I will break a sweat just sitting
down. You might not think this is so bad now, but earlier in the
day, it got all the way to 87 degrees. I thought I was going to
die. I was wiping sweat from my brow every 20 seconds. It's
not a good thing when you feel like you need a shower one hour after
your previous one.
Someone needs to do something about that bastard sun. As my
windows face west, my apartment is treated to the full brunt of the
afternoon assault. The damn place soaks up the heat like some
sort of demon-spawned hellsponge. Turning on the fan just blows
hot air around. Turning on the air conditioner just cools off the
freaking living room. In my own room, where my computer lies and
I do work, the temperature remains high. Closing the blinds does
nothing. The sun is destroying me anew every day and there's
nothing I can do! Someday, I'm gonna invent a weapon to take that
fucker out, and I'm gonna be laughing during the ensuing eternal night.
Second off, I hate beer commercials. I fucking hate them with a
passion. How is it that these commercials can get away with
telling us that alcohol, specifically the promoted brand, is the key to
happiness. Along those lines, happiness includes a bar, several
women, and some ultra hip club music. In my wildest dreams, I
never imagined myself in such a place. I guess I really am that
much of a loser. Maybe I'll just apply some Axe body spray and
attract women in a different fashion. Purportedly, a spray or two
will attract the hottest women in the area to tackle and fight over
me. Strangely, I have a girlfriend without the effects of
alchohol or fancy deoderant. Of course, had I been using these
two tools to success, I could have had 20 girlfriends. Somehow, I
think I made the right choice.
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| Random update test: Does anyone actually look at this? | | |
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