I think what really protects this rustbucket boneshaker from theft is the fact that no-one would ever actually want to steal it.
The owner of this bike is actually, really, clinically, batshit insane. Just so you know.
What can I say? Except that I’m submitting this to FailBlog stat.
…want to know: why would ‘Edgar’ be an unremarkable name for a cat, whereas ‘Dave’ would be quite odd. As would ‘Betty’.
And how about ‘Ralph’?
Gary Larson used to have a lot of fun with this sort of thing, but fwiw this particular thought was inspired by a recent Lolcat –
see more Lolcats and funny pictures“>
Or why ‘Art’ today deserves — and gets — nothing but contempt.
Exhibit A: ‘The Meteor Shower: Walking in Raining’ (sic) by Lin T-Y, Chen P-C, and Chen C-I. 2008
With its blue police-light on top, I originally thought this was one of those emergency white-phone-refuge-late-night-call-the-cops-security-station things. But no! It’s a work of ‘Art’, complete with significance, meaning and purpose. And to save you the trouble of figuring out what the significance, meaning and purpose might actually be, I squelched through the 6 feet of mud that surrounds this installation and took a pic of the explanatory plaque:
Mmm. Nice etching!
The English translation is a bit wonky, but that’s hardly the problem. Did Botticelli have to explain ‘Venus on a Half Shell‘? Did Athena have to explain ‘Tennis Girl‘? Did da Vinci have to explain ‘La Gioconda’? Well, OK, maybe Lenny boy could have thrown us a bone with that last one, cos it took frakking forever to get the whole Madonna Lisa smiley face business all straightened out. But anyway, where was I? Oh yeah: the point is that I call bullshit on any Art that comes with a fucking user manual.
Do we need Art? — Possibly.
Do we need this shit? — No.
And for your further edification, here, by contrast, is a piece of True Art. This is from my ongoing series of photographic studies of paint spills. I call it ‘Mycelian Nodules #12′.
This is proper Art, yessirreebob. Absolutely no ducks or elephants were involved in the making of this image.
Apparently ‘Wrong’ is the name of their latest single, but ever since Vince Clarke left in disgust 27 years ago, I think it works best as a description of the band.
Honesty in advertising. Their follow-up single will be called ‘Trite. Pretentious. Wankers.’
Today’s delightful spring sunshine lured swarms of photographers out from the chemical dark. Here’s a nice picture of some of them and their impressively large equipment.
I’m not really sure what all these people are looking at.
Perhaps it’s this?
I’m not an ornithologist — nor have I played one on TV — but I think this is probably some kind of bird.
And then just round the corner I found this other posse of shooters, hot in pursuit of another kind of ‘bird’ — sometimes called a ‘chick’. Ho ho.
You go ahead and watch the birdie. I’m just going to, um, adjust my zoom and polish my lens. Fnarr fnarr.
Bad news, people. Not only is Phil Collins still alive, but — he has a son!
And wouldn’t you know it, Collins fils appears hell bent on scrupulously following in the anodyne musical footsteps of his father. Don’t believe me? Then listen to this Youtube and see if you can tell the difference.
Will our torment never end?
(And it’s partly my fault too: ‘In The Air Tonight’ is a great song, but in retrospect it was a mistake to encourage him. I should have waited for the gorilla.)
I just spent 5 minutes standing in line near a wall display of gimungous Sony Bravia wide screen TVs. Like everyone else, I’ve seen and enjoyed the spectacular environmental vandalism of the Bravia ads — shades of the arch-vandal Christo, but more dynamic and colorful — but this was my first time actually looking at real actual Bravias.
And, to be fair, the tight, close-up shots looked pretty good: you could see every frickin hair on the obligatory photogenic labradog.
But the wide shots…?! Oh my. They’re pinpoint sharp all right. In fact it’s like someone turned the edge sharpness up to 900 and tattooed the image directly onto your visual cortex with pine needles. Depending on the footage, at any given time you had 5~30% of the screen serving up nothing but shimmering patches of high contrast aliasing phenomena.
Are people really buying these fucking things? If so, I guess Timbuk3 were right: the future’s so bright I gotta wear shades.
Sony Bravia — it’s like watching a migraine.
Dickless fucktards with their priapic halogens permanently jammed on hi-beam are bad enough. Flickering cop-cruiser light-bars with a dazzle count of 11 are worse.
But boy racers with those gigawatt blue LEDs ducktaped to their fucking pimped out Beemer license plates just make me want to kill someone. Or have an epileptic seizure, whichever comes first.
I’m not posting any images here because they’re too visually offensive, but if you’re into DIY lasik, then check these fucking monsters from Cankerturd. Guaranteed to fuck your retina and spasm your corpus callosum even in broad daylight. (And if the link isn’t working, then count yourself bloody lucky.)
Anger management?
Fuck off.
