| OCTOBER 5, 2000 NATIONAL 'DON'T UPDATE YOUR WEBSITE' DAY! |
| OCTOBER 4, 2000 FIVE THOUSAND WORDS |
| OCTOBER 2, 2000 TRUTH IN ADVERTISING |
Not only do the lawyers own retardation.com, but also, yup:
Mini-content time. We've really been machine-gunning the delicate issues these days. Plane crashes, abortion, and now we take a Look on the bright side of Aids. Lampoon, harpoon; it's all semantics.
No more political aspirations, no sir,
| SEPTEMBER 30, 2000 THUMP LAWYER AND LISTEN FOR HOLLOW SOUND |
One of our masochistic hobbies is typing random things into the browser's URL box. Most of the time you just get porn or web logs or doomed dot-coms or whatever this could possibly be:|
"So, welcome to PLASTER OF PARIDISE. There is no guilt or embarrassment here. You have suffered too many years of loneliness and shame. Now it's time to put on some casts and have some fun!"
Occasionally you get a perfect gem:
|We don't recommend trying this at home.|
| SEPTEMBER 29, 2000 OXYGEN GETS YOU HIGH |
We almost did a topical content piece about abortion today. Then, we happened upon a wonderful story of heroism and bravery in the face of lots of smoke. Over a hundred firefighters in Los Angeles threw aside their petty differences in order to save a troupe of magical puppies caught in a big insurance fire. This impossibly special tale of hamsters and straight men in fireman outfits will warm your heart and make you believe in cute puppies again.
|Actual copy from CNN news. No evil-doer is safe from the adorable wiles of Team Super Puppy and their Mega-Crystal Power-Lungs.|
But then we wanted to write something for our female readers so we went back to writing about how to kill a baby before it's legally too late. Read all about it. Sluts and hoes, pay particular attention. You know who you are.
| SEPTEMBER 27, 2000 NO MORE SHITTING IN THE HOLY WATER |
A personal victory:
| SEPTEMBER 27, 2000 FOR THE LAST TIME, TRY SOMETHING NEW |
See, we were just getting to that point where we figured we had a few too many readers, so we wanted to axe maybe, oh, half of them by stopping updates for ten days. Yes, we're that giving of ourselves. Actually, Dr. Sunshine and ourself try to keep out details of our horrible little personal lives here in the coke mines of Guatemala where we update the site by candlelight between shifts of fellating the miners. It was either that or the canary's job, and we can't sing. But today we'll admit that Dr. Sunshine is madly finishing editing his novel while poor Ignatz has been butting heads with the butt-head of reality. Or rather, that he's been up to his nostrils in "shit", more colloquially known as shit.
At any rate, we're back, we're back, and we have a juicy bit of content we'll hit you up later today. In the meantime, if you're bored, your can visit the site that gets our personal award for greatest banner ads ever: The Asphyxia Site. Oh yes. This does exist.
With bated breath,
| SEPTEMBER 17, 2000 SUNBEAM DON'T WANT ME FOR A JESUS |
Man it's cold in our room, there's junk everywhere, and we're riding the Depression Mule straight into El Dorado. Crashing the Learjet of Despair into the White House of Self Pity. Strangling the Japanese Porn Actress of Solitude, beating the Teddy Bear of Post-Teen Angst, and Hurling the No-Legged Cat of Unfunniness into the Towering Inferno of Stupid Updates.
|To better illustrate our shitty day, here's Paul Pot, our adorable Cambodian friend.|
Today we spent a good half hour abusing our God-given right to search the internet for porn even God couldn't think up. The inversion irony wasted on us, we post these fucked-up links anyway. Most of them aren't exactly porn because we have yet to find out if our new, more maternal, nurturing server host will let us show you boobs that aren't ours. In the meantime, go to these horrible, horrible sites.
| SEPTEMBER 16, 2000 IS THAT A HARD-ON IN YOUR POCKET OR ARE YOU JUST HAPPY TO SEE ME? |
Smilies in chatrooms eventually deteriorate into mini boob pictorals. So do daily updates. Therefore:
J||old tits (profile)|
LL ||robot tits|
66||big nipple tits|
XX ||beer tits|
VV||80's pop star tits|
YY||same pop star, year 2000, lactating tits|
** ||girl blushing cause a hobo touched her tit|
EE||computer hardware designer tits|
0*||tits, one got punched in|
IOU ||I owe you a tit fuck|
oo ||there is no room to put the fuck|
(.) ||there is only one tit to fuck|
U||everything but the tits|
..||gigantic tits really far away|
-- ||mamogram tits|
@@||so crazy drunk|
??||where are the tits?|
| SEPTEMBER 14, 2000 NATIONAL PUT-YOUR-CHILDREN-TO-WORK DAY |
Ever notice how many elderly people play the slots at Vegas? Maybe old whores never die, they just gamble away. Even if they aren't pensioned hookers though, it's a real phenonmenon. Why don't they just save that time that could be better spent puttering through Walmart and leave it to Vegas in their will? Or invest heavily in diaper technology? Or take up a hobby, like Prozac addiction? Or build a giant formaldehyde jar and build a conversation piece out of their incontinent old husbands? Jesus, we'll tell you one thing; when we get old, we'll be spending our money wisely so as to gain as many enlightening life experiences as possible before we die, like buying c-4 and duct-taping it to stray cats. Or arming gradeschoolers with tazers. Or hanging trash-bags full of gasoline down the neighbor's chimney. Look, the point is, those slot machines are turning our nation's old people from the deviant extremism that only senility can bring to local newspaper headlines. So goddamnit, old people, get out there and spend some of that hard-earned/government-received cash on trip-wire and potato guns.
We have some content today inspired by the six plane trips we took in the last three weeks. Check out Do Not Remove From Aircraft and get in touch with your inner hindu cow.
Email comments / porn ads to:
| SEPTEMBER 13, 2000 DON'T EVEN MAKE US THINK UP A DUMB TITLE TAG |
Holy falling God-shit, we're so tired we can't even see straight, if by straight one means seeing things that aren't dissolving, getting attacked by gnomes, or telling us to kill the president with a brick. Also, we've ingested nearly every substance known to man tonight excepting perhaps Tang, and we have no idea what to do with these synapse firings each of which feels like the ratta-tat-tat of a machine gun the size of Ursa Minor shooting directly into our dry, unflinching soul. Actually, to be honest, we have no idea if that means anything at all, but it's not as if any of you believe a damn thing we say anyway.
Anyway, we're finally back from vacation, finally resolving our server issues, and finally updating. In about 12 hours. We tried to use Photoshop just now to finish and update the new content piece and guess what happened? Yup, it tried to console us about the loss of Internet Explorer's virginity to a Linux box hopped up on methamphetamines. No wait, we were trying to use methamphetamines but we couldn't because Photoshop kept updating Explorer's virinity. Well either way it lead to some tearful rounds of empty apologies, not a little heartbreak, and this patchwork of words that make no sense when put next to one another.
No longer outsane,
| SEPTEMBER 5, 2000 THEY'RE A HOST LIKE WE'RE A PARASITE |
Bullshit comma this is. We appologize for being down the last 48 hours. Or rather, our pea-brain hosting company appologizes for its crybaby attitude. "Oh my we're being attacked by a big bad HACKER, we'll just defend ourselves by shutting down the servers, the copy and fax machines, and just to be safe, the Mr. Coffee, the wall clock, the fish tank, and the staplers." A hearty fuck you, guys. We're switching servers tomorrow afternoon.
|It's just one of those days.|
That's all for today. It was 5 am when the servers finally went back up. Oh, and the banner ads are gone. We hated them. Now they are gone. We are heady with power. Bigger, better, and more vibrations per second. That's our motto.
| SEPTEMBER 3, 2000 WE'VE GOT AN INTERN |
Who would have thought we'd ever have anything to do with educating the leaders of tomorrow? But it's true. We have an intern. Jurgen Kleinstopp is an exchange student from Germany who's a junior at the local high school. He's expressed an interest in journalism and some misdirected guidance counselor actually sent him our way. We don't know where she found us, though we suspect that if we were guidance counselors we'd want to look at a lot of porn, and well, you know, it's not such a logical leap from there.
Anyway, we've got Jurgen doing reviews for us. Periodically he'll give us his opinion on books, movies, video games... whatever comes his way. Privately, we're not sure Jurgen gets out enough, and there are the rumors about the host family keeping him in the water heater closet, but we'll try it out for a bit and see how it goes. If Jurgen's not up to par, it's not like we can't find another German somewhere else. Today he reviews Francis Ford Coppola's masterpiece Apocalypse Now.
Color inside the lions,
| SEPTEMBER 2, 2000 JUST FIVE DAYS TO MOM'S PAROLE |
Those of you who dropped by the charred wreckage of this site a couple days ago presumably discovered, in lieu of the actual Circus, our hosting company's attractive "under construction" page with a message thoughtfully printed in twelve European languages. Our favorite was the Dutch one:
Welkom - Deze site is momenteel onder constructie. Gelieve later weer te bezoeken.
Let's face it - Dutch is an inherently comical language. It's what the Swedish Chef's dialogue would look like if someone did a phonetic transcription. Yet nobody's been mocking it lately. So here are some great Dutch jokes for your next social gathering and/or stuffed-animal tea party:
What do you call a country with low elevation situated between Belgium and Germany?
What is the approximate population of the Netherlands?
To what language family does Dutch belong?
Lord, we're vomiting with laughter just reading those. Now go be good and read the new Sympathy Barn.
| SEPTEMBER 1, 2000 Motherfucker. |
Well it had to happen. Talk too much shit about how funny fat people are on little tricycles and your server gets hacked. (Don't believe us? Go to Fry's or Best Buy. Mix computers, an impulse-junk-food aisle, nudie mags, and disgruntled ugly white guys and you get fat hackers who prey on humor sites. It is the nature of things.) So yeah, we got hacked for some reason and we can't personally get the files up because we're uploading from an Amiga powered by Aussie-spunk at the internet cafe that time forgot. Dr. Sunshine should be getting everything up today though. In the meantime, we're going to sit in our hotel room and watch scrambled porn until we decipher the simple but beautiful language of Melty Boob.
( Sorry fat people. Nothing personal. We know you're good, thin people at heart. Wait, holy shit. We have such a great idea: All we have to do is power backup servers with a giant treadmill and both problems solved. Cool huh? Either that, or like, free tallow if your server gets hacked. Yeah, that's cool too. )
Addendum: everything seems to be working except for maybe the ads. Why the ads? Fucked if we know. It's Ignatz's job to be clever and understand compters (including the spell checker -- Iggy [Hey, we changed "isle" to "aisle" 2 paragraphs above of our own volition -D.S.]) and so on. We're mostly in it for the ass. Anyway, let us know if anything you desperately need appears to be absent, and we apologize for the momentary absence of corporate mindfuck in the upper right corner of your browser window. We'll fix it real soon, honest. Update: The banners work again. Now go back to trying not to look at them please.
On a side note, we would be more upset about this whole incident if our knowledge of hackers didn't come mostly from "Hackers," the movie. Based on that, it seems pretty clear that we were in fact hacked by Johnny Lee Miller and Angelina Jolie. And woo, those kids are hot. Honestly, it gives us kind of a warm feeling. Good luck to you, Johnny and Angelina, wherever you are.