Blaine Warbler had never been stopped, nor hindered, in his quest to indiscriminately eat almost everything… Until last week.
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You’d have to be brain dead to have missed the buzz around Geoffry A. Rawlin’s Philosophical Zombie 2 (P-Zed2). Moviegoers delighted at the original Philosophical Zombie, a blockbuster hit which threatened to overturn the zombie horror genre. The sequel promises us a bigger story, more zombies, and more horror, all on a bigger budget. Sounds good. But as a critic, I must ask the question: does the film live up to the hype?
It’s not every day you count the beavers in between you and Arby’s. No. It’s not every day. But today is only one day, and today I did it. It started out real hard. I looked everywhere for the fuckers. Couldn’t find a single one. I figured, damn, there must be more than no beavers between where I am and Arby’s. Then I realized I was still in the bathtub. Translated from the original German, these images and excerpts are from what is considered the founding text of aerodrome design at a time when heavier than air flight was less than a decade old. Del Mutel’s designs were mostly visions of structures to be built in a European future where cities had expanded so vastly that large, area-swallowing tracts of land for airports would be unavailable. So, my circadian rhythm was going crazy last night and I had 6 unique dreams, all of them incredibly vivid. I’ll spare you the more epic bits to present this little gem. I’m on an airplane with two other guys and one chick, the chick is telling a story to the guy she’s dating. Oh, and we’re all dressed as pirates. No joke, there really are Ethiopian restaurants. It’s just like going to a Catholic brothel or a North Korean car dealership. You may be asking, “What, do you go there, sit down, and starve while the world ignores you?” But the advertising for these restaurants says they are completely normal, and deny that the food will be brought in by aid workers.
I actually made this years ago, and forgot about it.
Mayweather Syndrome is a debilitating condition that results in audience apathy. Onset of symptoms occurs whenever Travis Mayweather opens his mouth. Shortly thereafter, the cancer of his atrocious acting metastasizes to the other cast members, eventually killing the appeal of the show. There is no known cure for Mayweather Syndrome.
Underground Man said, “Don’t put entrails in the cup.” Apparently he prefers his offal jokes to be tasteful. So you can blame him that there are no delicious delicious entrails floating in milk broth. July 12, 1919 Dear Mr. Chaplin, I just wanted to write to say how much of a fan I am of your work! Even here in Munich, whenever a poor paper-hanger like myself can scrap a few hundred thousand marks together, I can think of no better way to spend an afternoon than to watch you “tramp” about! A good joke, yes? I think I have a future as a writer, but am focusing on painting at the moment. I feel I just need a decisive look to define myself, and so I was writing to ask if I could use your trademark mustache to help with my own image? I did not have friends growing up. I was too quiet, too reserved, too terrified of being hurt by other people. My parents never beat me, in contrast, the house was overly safe, and I think that’s what the problem was. My mother had constructed a sanctuary for me to keep out the evils of the world, but by the time I would have entered school, it was a psychological prison. Years passed by in solitude as I remained stagnant. Time has no meaning to those who remain unchanged.
Editor’s Note: Today’s article was guest-written by Tanzmetall(719), an alternate instance of Tanzmetall who somehow managed to get elected to the United States Senate in 2008, defeating Arlen Specter. This is especially remarkable since, in 2008, Tanzmetall was much younger than the age limit, and Specter was not up for reelection. July 19, 2009 Well! Just won election after an exhausting recount. I was about to lose my Pennsylvania Supreme Court appeal, but at the last second, I ran over and poked a cancer pustule on Specter’s face. Thus angered, he launched into a curse-filled tirade about how Pennsylvania voters are idiots and how much he hates America. By state law, the election results were voided. Woooo! |
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