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by Paul
Oct 31, 2006 10:33
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but nobody is perfect. This includes myself, despite all the obvious evidence to the contrary. Trust me, I'm struggling with this realization as much as the rest of you.
There's a commercial out there floating around about DLP televisions. Basically DLP is a technology created by Texas Instruments, possibly from Texas, I don't know. Yes THAT Texas Instruments. Yes, like your calculator. For the last time, YES! Can we move on now? Thanks.
Anyway... the commercial features a little girl standing next to an elephant, talking to some guy who looks like he's there to repair either an air conditioner, or maybe a washing machine; no that can't be right, those Maytag repairmen never have anything to do.
I digress.
Nevermind how preposterous this commercial is on face value, as I'm sure many of you out there with 8 year old caucasian daughters, dress your children in obnoxiously colored easter dresses on any random day of the year, and let them stand dangerously close to a live elephant under the supervision of only a Maytag man, arguably in the middle of an indoor football field. You are the same parents who let your sons grow up to blog in run-on sentences. Here's my problem. The slogan of this campaign is "It's amazing, it's the mirrors."
See folks, DLP technology uses millions of tiny mirrors to somehow make your television's picture look better. That's great. The problem is, the little girl says "It's the meers."
So... at first I thought I was hearing things. The 5th time, I knew she was saying it wrong. By the 23rd time, it was completely driving me up a wall. Am I going to hell because I constantly scream at a young child who can't even hear me? "GODDAMNIT IT'S PRONOUNCED MIR-RORS YOU STUPID ASS LITTLE GIRL!" Of course not. I'm going to hell for laughing at a story my brother told me about him laughing at a single-mother crying; because she sounded like Homer Simpson sobbing. Still, I'm pretty sure this little girl thing isn't helping my cause much.
It's not her fault. I know. To be honest, I'm not even mad at her personally; but who is in charge of this commercial? Are children also filming it? Perhaps a director with a sthpeech impediment? What the hell?! Can't anybody hear the girl say "meers". For crying out loud just jump in. "Hey sweet heart... it's pronounced 'mir-rors'." Somebody fucking noticed that. Don't tell me nobody noticed, because I noticed. Is it supposed to be cute or something? Because it's not. It's wrong. Meers isn't even a word. I looked it up to make sure.
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| If mispronounciation is what passes as cute in the year 2006, then the terrorists have already won. |
by Paul
Jan 27, 2006 10:22
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I've noticed an increase in chronic debilitating conditions among the American public of late. When I was a kid, like one kid in the entire school had an inhaler; and that was because he didn't have any lungs. That's right, only gills. His name was Gill too, coincidentally. These days however, I swear every second or third person I talk to is either diabetic, or has a "mild" case of asthma.
For a while I was thinking "Wow, maybe our global warming and various methods of fucking up the planet is starting to catch up with everyone and we're all catching a case of bad karma." But then I thought, "How come I'm not Type A diabetic with a mild case of the asthma?" I am starting to feel left out.
Left out of the buffet line! Are you sure it's asthma America? Even a mild case? I'm thinking it's not a mild case of asthma, but a mild case of the fat. You don't have a diabetic condition, you have a donut addiction. No offense intended to any of the legitimate sufferers of either affliction, but you too can go the H-E double hockey sticks outside and walk your lazy ass around for a while. While you're at it, stop drinking 3 redbulls and a double mocha per day, and try getting some much needed rest. Filling your fat smoker's lungs with air is tiring you out, and you need all the sleep you can get to combat the energy it takes to breath. The same energy in turn tires you out, and the cycle repeats.
I'm sorry, I'm angry. It's not your fault. Wait I'm getting a text message... yes... yes it is your fault. Now get it together porky. |
| I am currently listening to: MF Doom - MM Food |
by Paul
Jul 25, 2005 10:01
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Yes I can read. Asshole. Anyway, some tee ball coach in Pennsylvania paid one of his players to nail another retarded player in the head with a ball. A ball that I assume was a tee ball. I assume this, because he is a tee ball coach. I used deductive reasoning. However, that's not the point. The point is the rules state all the kids have to play at least three innings or some mess like that. So the coach thought, if the retard kid is on the injured reserve, he can't play, and my team will have a better chance of winning.
Brilliant! Except, I've seen tee ball games before. One team scores a million points while the other team's outfield is chasing butterflies around and throwing piles of dirt at each other. Then after one fat kid tries to swing and misses five times in a row, the coaches go "ALRIGHT! That's it everyone, it's a TIE!" All the kids cheer, and somebody's mom hands out Capri Suns. That's what the kids are there for anyway, the Capri Suns.
Meanwhile somebody's dad is taking a walk to "cool off" because he can't believe his seven year old daughter only made it to second base on that grounder she hit. Let's ignore the fact that he's 5'8", weighs a cool 240 pounds, and can't run outside fast enough to catch the ice cream truck, let alone his own seven year old daughter.
If you're that guy, shut the fuck up. Get on a treadmill while you're at it you fat sack of shit. Oh, and stop bringing Capri Suns for the kids when it's your day to cater the after-game snack. Everyone knows those things are full of sugar. It's bad enough you're a fat ass, but now all the high class white parents are going to know you're a bad parent because you brought sugar drinks instead of some nutritious orange juice. Then you distributed the liquid in styrofoam cups. The nerve. The unmitigated gall. First you yell at your daughter, who can run faster than you. Then you serve sugar drinks. Now you're depleting the ozone layer. Way to go dad. Hey, quick! Jump in your huge ass Ford Excursion and maybe run over a few trees on the way home, and a minority orphan. That should close the loop of destruction.
Dick. |
| Hey incidentally, what happened to the days when if you didn't play, it meant you sucked. Not that you got hit in the head with a baseball because the coach paid another player. You know coach, you're just leading him on. Tell him he sucks now so he can cry and get over it, and maybe try a different sport. |
by Paul
Mar 11, 2005 09:41
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do parents feel the need to tell you how old their kids are when they're attempting to portray how fit they are to handle stress. "Hey don't tell me, I've got a 3 year old." You mean you have a child? Three, four, 16, what's the difference? Guess what, I have a left shoe AND a right shoe.
I also like when parents (especially women) take a pot shot at their husbands with phrases like "I have two kids and a husband to take care of, I know what ______ is all about." Do you know what changing a tire is all about? Good thing you take care of that husband so he can change that tire when you're out picking up one of your two kids (one of whom is 3 years old, because that makes a difference). Incidentally I'm sure you rescued that guy from a ditch of dispair anyway. There's no way he was doing alright on his own before you showed up and started like... PMSing every so often to keep him on his toes. |
| The luckiest man in the world is an understatement. |
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