Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Goddamn Hippies


Fucking blogs, I tell you.

This gig at Ask is very much akin to shopping at a dirt-floor flea-market: there are pockets of magic in amongst the outright contemptible bullshit, sometimes, but there are also many instances in which the individual knickknacks get washed out in a gigantic void of bland nothingness. I’ve said it before, but I haven’t been back long enough for some of our new readers, so I’ll say it again: I need electricity. I need cartoon sound-effects and desensitizing madness and monstrous lunacy and synapses pulsing and pounding and short-circuiting and flash and dazzle and spite and venom and raw nerves and exposed viscera and gleeful chaos. I’m not talking blog-preference here, either – these are things, in life, that I need.

Surprisingly, I find that very few of the above-mentioned necessities are checked off my list whilst perusing flea-markets, and even fewer browsing the streams of tepid shit that roll through here like piddling rivulets of urine sinking into the ground before ever reaching open water. At least there’s a sardonic appeal to purchasing a single typewriter-key, or fifteen ALF comic-books for a quarter; there’s absolutely nothing alluring about the vast majority of blogs darkening the blogosphere, and a huge percentage of the interweb-abled population should be dragged from their computers and beaten mercilessly with a canvas bag full of live, rabid mice until they took the hint and got themselves outside for a breath of fresh air, if even for once in their miserable, misbegotten lives.

Which brings us to the now: Louie Pit Bull (and Ollie Beagle) is a rotten, disgraceful pile of rancid trash that stains my eyes with its torrential drivel... or it should be, had it followed the premise I painstakingly set up for this review. In reality, however, it’s not half-bad. Oh, don’t think I didn’t try to find an angle, some little loophole I could slip through to tear into it with both hands, because I did – no, the guy is just too affable for me to genuinely dislike, and despite the countless strikes against the blog itself (typical, standard blogger-template, mind-numbing widgets along the sidebar, a general lack of direction in the writing, to name a few), I’ve gotten through more of it than I thought I would.

He’s a guy who’s just talking, hanging out, passing along random thoughts and detailing events as they happen, enjoying himself and his life more often than not, and, hey, all right; I don’t really have it in me to fault the guy for his sunny outlook. I can, however, call him on his emoticon-usage, a practice that teeters on the borderline between merely appalling and maniacally irresponsible, so it all evens out, in my mind.

At the end of the day, he’s all peace, love and Beethoven, whereas I’m all spite, rage and pointy things. Suffice it say, we were never destined to mill about in converging circles, though it must also be said that I would certainly try to avoid hitting him if he fell down in front of my car… and if that isn’t a fucking compliment, I don’t have any idea what you people are expecting from me.



It’s not terrible, but if it doesn’t jump down my throat and fry my pancreas, I’m probably not going to be too keen. Also, dude, Aqua Teen Hunger Force? Watch it all – you’re won’t be disappointed.

Seriously. Don't believe me? Okay, fine - have another star:



But that's just between you and me, all right? Don't go bragging to your friends about getting the "two-star" treatment at Ask or I swear to all that is holy that I will be literally angry with rage.

34 comments:

  1. I was fully prepared to hate him for the use of these words:

    'Tis a passion-like shiznizzle.

    What the in the name of fuck does that mean? And he has "Who Let the Dogs Out" as the number 2 song on his playlist.

    But he's not completely loathsome. Wouldn't mind seeing him get his ass kicked by Catholic school girls singing "Who Let the Dogs Out", however.

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  2. Getting his ass kicked by Catholic school girls singing "Who Let the Dogs Out?"

    My husband's #1 fantasy, how did you know?

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  3. NJ- I think you have perhaps grown soft man-boobs my friend. It's probably because you miss Cal.

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  4. NJ: I need to know how you feel about your car before I can really see that line as a compliment.

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  5. And behind those soft man boobs is a wee-little heart.

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  6. Totally love this:"trying to get a palaver with them"

    Who says that with a straight face and isn't a pirate? He does and that makes him awesome. Few people know that word. Rock on.

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  7. Mia, I don't say it and I AM a pirate.

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  8. Typical refrain, but it could use editing. He's got the vocab, but he needs to step up his diction game. Some of those sentences read like baby deer on ice.

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  9. My soft, supple man-boob-teats are in need of a suckling, perhaps.

    Anyone see what time I posted the review at? I can't believe that it's as coherent as it is, even if I did give him an extra star just for mentioning Aqua Teen Hunger Force.

    God, I'm awesome - how do you guys deal with it? Incredible.

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  10. Hmm... apparently the musky aroma of my awesomeness isn't enough to generat comments. Who knew?

    Maybe we burnt ourselves out last week kicking Jim Wright and the Fantastical HeroCommanders of the Mensa-Universe in the nuts repeatedly?

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  11. I'm going "generat" a comment all over myself...

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  12. What can I do to spare us from another Lawsonesque.display of baggery?

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  13. Perhaps your man teats should leave their own comment.

    Boobs almost always generat comments.

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  14. Tsk - it's a tidal wave of heaping awesomeness, Key. Don't fight it.

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  15. I'm afraid it became somewhat septic in nature once the comments started rushing in.

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  16. For the record, having "Lawsonesque" defined as "multi-comment-baggery" is a tremendous honour.

    My hairy titty-tots are heaving with gratitude.

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  17. "My hairy titty-tots are heaving with gratitude"

    Bon Mot.

    I'd reckon that Ghost's are too.

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  18. Just consider me your own personal Urban Dictionary.

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  19. Just the three of us, huh?

    So, you guys want to go get a beer or what?

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  20. As long as pajamas are proper attire.

    Beer me.

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  21. As long as you bring your hairy titty tots, I'm in.

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  22. NJ - I think Ghost might actually be talking to me with that one.

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  23. All right; just let me poop first.

    Hey - it happens.

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  24. Ok, I've dealt with the fact that girls poop, but Canadians? Say it aint so.

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  25. We poop hockey pucks - that's why it takes so long.

    That also explains why my asshole is distended like someone drive a train through it.

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  26. Of course, some might say that "drove" would be the proper tense of "drive" in this instance, but that would be the xenophobia talking.

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  27. Give me a call when you start dropping more than one puck at the same time.

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  28. I didn't really realize that I was a hippie. Thanks for enabling me to have more self-awareness, Mr. Jobber. Thanks, too, for the review. I'm sure you and yours have to slog through a lot of shit, there. I appreciate your time and effort and also the one-star of mediocrity.

    Whoo!

    (I resisted putting an emoticon there because, seriously, those things do get old.)

    Peace to you.

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  29. To Free Man: "Who Let the Dogs Out?" was kind of a joke. The Bahama Boyz, or whatever the fuck they're called, do not occupy the Number Two spot in my heart....

    That belongs to Barry Manilow. And Liza Manelli. They share the spot, if you know what I mean.

    Wink. Wink. Nudge.

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  30. The one star of mediocrity, I love it.

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  31. It's Baha Men. Fuck! Show some respect.

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  32. The three of you seem to have your heads up your asses.

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  33. Alexis: Which three? Care to ellaborate?

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  34. I think Alexis was referring to Barry Manilow, Liza, and me.

    ::sob::

    Sorry, Alexis!

    Smile.

    And.

    The whole world smiles back atcha.

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Grow a pair.