...and I'm thinking, very hard, about what to write about next...
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Friday, March 03, 2006
What Do You Think?: Logonomics
Now its time to determine What You Think.
What do you see in this logo?
What do you see in this logo?
A) Placid, brand-friendly Toucan, pondering extensive deliciousness of Premium Tropical Froot.
B) Horrified, brand-ruining penguin, with enormous banana-esque object crammed down throat.
Vote in the comments.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Verse Adverse
Known to scholars and men of the cloth,
there are some social tenets
(that I don't care to mention)
which if broken, make the best of friends froth.
though try as we might to eschew this
invariably acquaintances fight
be it conceit, cruelty or hubris,
natural law says who rhymes best, is right.
righteously armed with this ordinance
I've launched a preemptive strike
with weapons of mass incite.
be sure to respond in accordance*
Adam's insincere; Henry's a queer;
Brianne and Aaron: impoverished in Texas.
Brice and the rest, honestly who cares?
Comments are open. Let's see who attacks us.
*
abba
cdcd
there are some social tenets
(that I don't care to mention)
which if broken, make the best of friends froth.
though try as we might to eschew this
invariably acquaintances fight
be it conceit, cruelty or hubris,
natural law says who rhymes best, is right.
righteously armed with this ordinance
I've launched a preemptive strike
with weapons of mass incite.
be sure to respond in accordance*
Adam's insincere; Henry's a queer;
Brianne and Aaron: impoverished in Texas.
Brice and the rest, honestly who cares?
Comments are open. Let's see who attacks us.
*
abba
cdcd
Thursday, February 09, 2006
A Pneumatic Wishscape
I'm sorry Aaaron, but your picture was just too awful to be tolerated even one day more.
Fine. Now this happened in 1990. Let's put it behind us.
Fine. Now this happened in 1990. Let's put it behind us.
Monday, January 16, 2006
An Original Composition
My Favorite Lies
(Sung to the tune of My Favorite Things from The Sound Of Music)
by Matters
a just government and social medicine
objective reporting and humanely killed venison
people who tell you that they are not spies
these are a few of my favorite lies
nutritional guidelines and freedom from poverty
inspirational posters and canada's sovereignty
friends who will claim that they care if you die
these are a few of my favorite lies
"smart and attractive" and "i love you too"
breakfast on sunday and trips to the zoo
believing that it'll work out if you try
these are a few of my favorite lies
when I notice
life isn't great
when I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite lies
and then I don't feel so bad
Yes, there are some problems with the scansion. So sue me.
Please don't sue me.
(Sung to the tune of My Favorite Things from The Sound Of Music)
by Matters
a just government and social medicine
objective reporting and humanely killed venison
people who tell you that they are not spies
these are a few of my favorite lies
nutritional guidelines and freedom from poverty
inspirational posters and canada's sovereignty
friends who will claim that they care if you die
these are a few of my favorite lies
"smart and attractive" and "i love you too"
breakfast on sunday and trips to the zoo
believing that it'll work out if you try
these are a few of my favorite lies
when I notice
life isn't great
when I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite lies
and then I don't feel so bad
Yes, there are some problems with the scansion. So sue me.
Please don't sue me.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Photodictum
Your reality in photo form. Surreptitiously robbed from http://r.sine.com. (You probably don't want to click that if you're at work.)
Monday, January 02, 2006
Matters Of Interest: Yet Another Year
This is a post in the hopelessly redundant spirit of the tireless march of Time, which continues on despite the fact that I'm ever so bored with it. It is for those of you who correctly believed that I would never again lace frothy text across a puce and navy themed skunk hole in an abandoned corner of Her Majesty's Royal Internet.
As 2006 swoops down upon the helpless frightened minions of 2005, claiming them for its own evil purposes, two facts are abundantly clear to me.
First, 2006 is already riddled with the same empty promises, false hopes, and impending disasters that were the sanctimonious trappings of 2005. But this is no great revelation to you, oh Reader of The Aaaron, and The Worst Blog Ever, as you are already possessed of either a prodigiously well articulated sense of quiet despair, or a insurmountable and unquenchable taste for self-denial. Either of these powers should by now have revealed to you this first indisputable fact of 2006. This is not the shocking news that has roused me from my torpor to fulfil my undeniable duty to you: the Reader.
The terrible truth that I must now reveal to you in fact resides on my bedroom floor. It is indeed my trash receptacle, which I have now neglected to empty for approximately two months. They have been a reliable, joy-filled two months for me. But by some fluke of nature (I am widely regarded as quite tidy) I have been unable to summon the energy to dispatch its terrible untold contents. Yet, stranger still, the trash has not filled the void of my pho-trendy waste basket and overflowed into my room. Rather, the bin seems to be growing less full by the day. I fear that the point of no return has been reached, as my designer-on-the-cheap Martha Stuart Kmart classic trash container is already far to massive for man or machine to heft. I first became aware of the problem when, two days ago, I absentmindedly decided to toss an errant credit card offer. The offending junk mail crossed the event horizon of my trash receptacle and vanished. In the picture provided, you can see my super massive can of vile filth beginning to warp the very fabric of space time.
Needless to say, we are all fucked. 2006 is going to be worse than you can possibly imagine, as Scientists estimate from the rate that I am burning through styrofoam fast food cartons, gum wrappers, death threats, and cease and desist pleas from the ACLU, that by early March we, all of us, this planet, will be consumed, rended limb from limb, by the gravitational pull of a super massive ball of waste. Our only hope is that the doomed inhabitants of an alternate time line command a terrible cyborg soldier to return to the past and force me to empty the trash five weeks ago. HA. Enjoy your time on Earth you frauds.
~Matters
As 2006 swoops down upon the helpless frightened minions of 2005, claiming them for its own evil purposes, two facts are abundantly clear to me.
First, 2006 is already riddled with the same empty promises, false hopes, and impending disasters that were the sanctimonious trappings of 2005. But this is no great revelation to you, oh Reader of The Aaaron, and The Worst Blog Ever, as you are already possessed of either a prodigiously well articulated sense of quiet despair, or a insurmountable and unquenchable taste for self-denial. Either of these powers should by now have revealed to you this first indisputable fact of 2006. This is not the shocking news that has roused me from my torpor to fulfil my undeniable duty to you: the Reader.
The terrible truth that I must now reveal to you in fact resides on my bedroom floor. It is indeed my trash receptacle, which I have now neglected to empty for approximately two months. They have been a reliable, joy-filled two months for me. But by some fluke of nature (I am widely regarded as quite tidy) I have been unable to summon the energy to dispatch its terrible untold contents. Yet, stranger still, the trash has not filled the void of my pho-trendy waste basket and overflowed into my room. Rather, the bin seems to be growing less full by the day. I fear that the point of no return has been reached, as my designer-on-the-cheap Martha Stuart Kmart classic trash container is already far to massive for man or machine to heft. I first became aware of the problem when, two days ago, I absentmindedly decided to toss an errant credit card offer. The offending junk mail crossed the event horizon of my trash receptacle and vanished. In the picture provided, you can see my super massive can of vile filth beginning to warp the very fabric of space time.
Needless to say, we are all fucked. 2006 is going to be worse than you can possibly imagine, as Scientists estimate from the rate that I am burning through styrofoam fast food cartons, gum wrappers, death threats, and cease and desist pleas from the ACLU, that by early March we, all of us, this planet, will be consumed, rended limb from limb, by the gravitational pull of a super massive ball of waste. Our only hope is that the doomed inhabitants of an alternate time line command a terrible cyborg soldier to return to the past and force me to empty the trash five weeks ago. HA. Enjoy your time on Earth you frauds.
~Matters
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