But Does News Groper Have A Will Smith 'Easy On The Swears' Policy?

Sorry, but I don’t believe it does.

Yes, News Groper is very funny. Yes, it features ironic blog content. Yes, that means this blog and a million others are completely redundant. Hell, I may as well just pack this in now, and maybe not even finish this sentence. But I did finish that sentence. And that one. And, at the risk of aforementioned redundancy, that one too. Because I believe that I have something that Mr Funnysite News Groper does not, and that is a Will Smith-inspired 'easy on the swears' policy. This blog is a socially responsible blog. This blog will never use potty language. It may occasionally reference bestiality, Jamie Lynn Spears, or various other perversions in the name of a cheap gag, but it will never swear while doing so. It is, as much as anything can be these days, child-friendly – in precisely the way that Michael Jackson’s keening ghost isn’t.

But this is not all. I have decided to take even more aggressive action in my defence against the dark arts of News Groper. In fact, I’m going to beat those News Groper guys at their own game. I’m going to be so cleverly funny, that in fact I will not be funny. Deliberately. I’m going to be so cleverly ironic, that I won’t be ironic any more. I will sail past the point of no-return, the irony event horizon, and come smiling (but with what intent?) out the other side. It will be like Disney’s The Black Hole – and by that I refer to their late seventies space 'epic' featuring Robert Forster and Anthony Perkins, and not the amount of money they poured into Michael Eisner’s private pockets. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking about that Eisner joke. 1995 called, it wants its social-political commentary back. Well, go screw yourselves.

The Black Hole was a great film, by the way. And I’ve realised that, in a way, it has actually passed its own event horizon, to emerge meaningfully out the other side. See, in 1979, when it was released, it was a terrible, terrible movie. Just awful. Those floating tin-can robots with the big stuck-on eyes? Ugh. Having Roddy McDowall provide the voice of said robot also did not help matters, except, perhaps, to make the robot itself seem uncannily realistic and compelling by comparison. But now, watch it directly after ANY Pixar movie, and enjoy how impressively ironic this film is, some twenty years before the content it so clearly ironizes. Let’s see how this works. For those of you unfamiliar with any Pixar film, let me relate to you the plot of any Pixar film. So there’s a couple of mismatched buddies who don’t quite get along. One of them is a bit more serious than the other one, who’s a bit more funny. There’s a quest that this unlikely couple need to achieve, and guess what? They’re going to have to work together to do it! Somewhere along the line there will be some mild jeopardy or peril, and one of the characters will think that they’ve lost the other character. Then, both of the characters will learn a lesson. And then they’ll come together to win the show. End credits. Oh, and they’ll be an implausible score from Randy Newman. I remember the days when Randy Newman was good. Do you remember Faust? That was a great piece. What happened, Randy? What happened in the dark recesses of your soul?

So anyway, The Black Hole did all that a long old time ago, and it had a hovering robot called Maximilion. So, you know, Pixar sucks.

Notes: I just googled The Black Hole and discovered they're doing a remake. That's not good, for almost exactly the same reasons that the Tron remake will be the most amazing film ever. Yeah, I like Tron. Don't act like you're surprised.

My Funding Bid Is In! “Mutabiliti-e: The Spenserian Virtual Learning Environment”

Dear Unspecified Research Council,

Oh hi there! So I hear you fund all kinds of forward-thinking work these days. Well, have I got an educationally non-discriminatory/ nationally engaged/ community focused/ learning e-motivated project for you!

I know what you’re thinking: “can he really deliver on these ambitious claims?” But don’t worry Unspecified Research Council! Because I am *literally* prepared to cut my aims in half for you. Or even further! Oh yes, my moneyed friends, I’ll happily downgrade to whatever level of scholarship you require. Would you like a section of the site to examine the points of intersection between Spenser’s Irish landscape and last night’s episode of Coronation Street? Because I can make that happen. What’s that I hear you say? You think the site could benefit from a games area, where interested scholars can attempt to stab the Blatant Beast with their mouse? Hey, I for one think that’s a really great idea, and I’m more than willing to take it on board.

I tell you, Unspecified Research Council, I’m so glad you’re letting me run these ideas past you. This project could have been so stuffily intellectual. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was trying to “think future” with it from the get-go. It’s not like I’d ever dream of sending you a funding proposal for something stupid and passé. Like archival research. Or genuinely original scholarship. Or an educational centre…with books. Can you imagine it? The horror. All that paper! Who ever dreamed up that stuff was off their rocker, am I right?

But I’ll tell you this, Unspecified Research Council, I’m being corporate-minded here. And I think we both know that a corporate-minded approach to education is exactly what an academic funding council like you should want to see. Now, I’m looking at external sources of connected funding, and I’m thinking Toys-R-Us. Here’s the plan: so a student is reading a passage (in modernised l33t of course), with Red Cross Knight, and guess what? Bam! Hyperlink straight to the Knight from our own range of Spenser toys! Purchasable with period-realistic nuclear tank. Or get him with buddies Una and Fidelia, each in a range of fun, sexy outfits! I think you’ll agree, this is solid, community-focused work.

But just hang on there, Unspecified Research Council, because I understand what you’re probably thinking. Hey, it’s what I’m thinking too. Isn’t there a risk here, that working with Toys-R-Us is going to mark this project out as somehow too high-brow? Aren’t we refusing to engage with potential markets, and discriminating against those learners who would perhaps prefer to buy from a less intellectually rigorous toy-store? Well don’t worry. I’m way ahead of you on this one, and I think I have the perfect solution. And even better, it’s an electronic solution.

With the Mutabiliti-e patented Scholar-Shop, our learners will actually be able to choose an appropriate “Spenser Sponsor” to suit their edutainment needs. Perhaps you’d like your Faerie Queene to be queen of the playboy mansion? Done. Perhaps you’d like your Shepherd’s Calendar in the form of an actual calendar replete with pictures of that guy from High School Musical? Done. Yes indeedy, this is user-focused, interdisciplinary work we’re designing here.

One small problem, though, my dearest Unspecified Research Council. While the primary outcome of this project will be the collection of revenue, and the secondary outcome of this project will be the spawning of more revenue-producing projects, and the tertiary outcome of this project will be free advertising for you, and the quaternary outcome of this project will be the freeing-up of teaching hours for more revenue-producing work, there is still just the teeniest tiniest possibility that somewhere in this idea there may yet be an un-expunged nugget of actual usefulness and learning.

I’m sorry Unspecified Research Council, but even the best work has unexpected flaws.

Note 1: I’m so very sorry I uttered the word “teaching” above, Unspecified Research Council. Don’t worry, I’ve crossed myself the requisite number of times.

Note 2: Of course, any or all of the above may be potentially libellous. If you’re from the particular Unspecified Research Council we all know I'm talking about (i.e. any and all of them anywhere ever), and you’d like me to remove this post, please contact me to have a nice discussion about intellectual freedom. And don’t worry, you can do it electronically.

In Other News: “Hey, Look! A Dungeons And Dragons Ride!”

So, just how stupid are these kids?

Let’s take a look at the ride in question:

Now, let’s leave, for the moment, the obvious issue of quite why they think it’s a good idea to go into the big dragon’s mouth. Let’s also leave aside the question of why they’re not suspicious of a Dungeons and Dragons ride, when no such ride exists. No, let’s just take a very basic look at the horrific and glaring safety infractions going on in this amusement park.

Look! Just look at it! The front of the car isn’t even attached to the rails, for goodness sake! Seriously, it is a miracle that this ride hasn’t suffered fatalities already. Or perhaps it has, and the park owners are just covering it up for the sake of insurance premiums? I wouldn’t be at all surprised, because this amusement park has safety infractions everywhere:

Where are the guard rails? Where are the park attendants? I’m literally at a loss here. Why does the taller child at the front not have any eyes to speak of? I can only imagine it’s as a result of an extended stay at the most dangerous amusement park in the world. Yes, even more dangerous than the one at Michael Jackson’s house USED TO BE. And yes, even more chilling than Dollywood. Count the scariness here. Children: leaning over into roller coaster track. Child: running away from suspicious gentleman. Suspicious gentleman: on loose, collecting children. Overall safety rating: not good.

And exactly where is the sign saying “you must be this tall to get on this ride”? I can’t see it anywhere. Because the Barbarian kid is, you know, like, quite short. Tiny, really. And while I am the first to appreciate the clever cartoon-moral irony of the littlest kid taking on the character of the big barbarian hero, the simple fact remains that he is, surely, far too short to be riding on a roller coaster. And certainly too short to be sitting next to the cute girly one, who was clearly contractually obliged to be my bride, despite the otherwise compelling fact that she is entirely fictional:

Also, and back on topic, in the photo above please examine the safety harnesses offered by this particular roller coaster ride. That’s right, you can’t – because there aren’t any. Not so much as a flimsy safety belt, let alone that sturdy metal contraption that folds over your head and holds you in place. Why, if this ride has even one loop de loop in it, these crazy kids are going to be splashed all over the tarmac before you can say “+1 magic mace”. Frankly, it’s a good job this ride does lead to another dimension, because those poor children have a far better chance of making it through alive against Tiamat the five-headed dragon than they ever would on this death-coaster.

Also- kids, keep your arms inside the car at all times!!! What were you thinking? Seriously, is it really any wonder that this happened:

Come on people, it was just a matter of time.

Notes: Guy at back in second to last photo with glasses and goatee: appears to be herding children. What’s with this place? Also, two of four children have empty dark holes where left eye should be. Terrifying.

That Shadowy Figure Of The Past Tugging At Your Sleeve Might Just Be Me

Oh hello there. You seem to have caught me mid-blog. Or rather, you might have done, had I not been silent in the world of substandard online diarism for quite some time now. In fact, I do believe it has been a whole year! Have you missed me? Have your days been empty and startlingly bleak without my comforting thoughts to guide you? Well I don’t really care either way. Because, as we've firmly established on numerous prior occasions, I don’t really like you very much. For example, do you remember that magical time, years ago, when we were both carefree children in the playground of our lives, and I would push you gently on the swings? Just so you know: I was actually thinking about pushing you gently off a cliff.

In any case, I feel like I should provide some kind of update on things that have occurred during our intervening silence. But honestly, I can’t think of much. I mean, there was that time when [redacted] happened during [redacted]. I know, it’s been an entire year. But I'm still not ready to talk about it. Trust me, [redacted] was pretty bad. And I don’t mean bad in the Star Trek: The Next Generation sense, where a character will suffer something emotionally or intellectually crippling…and affecting them for the space of exactly one episode. Like the one where Picard gets tortured and has a mental breakdown but then is back in command of Starfleet's flagship in the next episode. Or the one where Worf breaks his neck and has to relearn how to walk, so that he can be Chief of Security again in the next episode. Or the one where Geordi is brainwashed into being a terrorist and has to painstakingly piece his memory back together, just in time to work engineering miracles in the next episode.

Well, trust me, that thing we're not talking about is really sticking with me. When I'm ready to talk about it, I'll let you know. But understand this: you will be genuinely harrowed by the tale. And you should know that I've also been thinking about redecorating.

Notes: So ever since Miles Mayhem escaped from the facility here beneath campaign headquarters, over a year ago, I've been running the events of our lives together over and over in my head. I just can’t stop thinking that there must surely have been some way I could have changed things. Maybe there was something I could have done differently, or something I should have said? Did I not love little Miles enough? Did I, perhaps, use the electroshock therapy one too many times? It's hard to say. Miles, if you're out there, come home. Just come home.

Good Sir, You May Wish To Glance Briefly Behind You

I haven’t had time to write to you in a while.

I do have some time to write at the moment, however, because I am [redacted] at an [redacted] on [redacted]. The reason I have plenty of time to write during this [redacted] is, as you may probably guess, strongly connected to my mention of [redacted] in the previous sentence. While [redacted] was on the whole good and interesting, neither adjective can properly be applied to [redacted]. I will undoubtedly explain the sad condition of [redacted] (and, indeed, of [redacted] in general) in my next posting, which will be full, you may be sure, of all the burning vitriol, bitterness, and vague sense of dislocation which you have no doubt come to expect from me, and which is particularly earned by the subject of [redacted]. My anger and dark hatred will also – and on this point I am perfectly clear – lead me to write to you again far sooner than I would otherwise (and certainly before [redacted]).

On which subject, can you believe it’s been this long since I last wrote to you? Because I can’t, and I'm sincerely sorry for it. I could inform you of all that has passed in these months: of good times, of bad times, of Miles Mayhem. But I think we should deal with you first, and the things that you have been up to recently. Because, and let’s be honest here, it’s been a rough ride for you, hasn't it?

Trust me, I've been keeping up to date with your "situation". And I understand, really I do. You're confused. You're lonely. You suffer from panic attacks; nerves; anxiety. Occasionally, you wet your bed. It's unpleasant, and a little smelly. The whole situation, frankly, is rather sad for you. And sure, you think you know why this is happening. You think that it is because I have denied you my writing on this blog for so long. And you certainly have a point – being without my guiding voice has undoubtedly been cripplingly hard for you. In the appalling and unending darkness that is your life, being without me must have felt like the darkening of your very last candle. Well, don’t worry about that, because the good news is that I have returned. Unfortunately, the bad news is that there is far, far more wrong with you than merely my unavoidable absence. You, I'm afraid to say, are rather badly messed up.

Do not fear, however, for I still believe that I can help you set everything straight. Psychology suggests that we find out the real root of your disease, and fortunately for you, I now know precisely from whence all your current problems originate. If you think back real hard, you might be able to recognise that moment too. Yes, that's right. It’s the time when I asked for those pictures of your attractive sister and you wouldn't give them to me.

On the face of things, you might have thought it wouldn't be too much of an issue. Hey, I can see why. Who would have thought that such a small thing could potentially lead to such big problems? It doesn't seem possible, does it? But it is possible, and is definitely what has happened. Pretty much all the tribulations, trials and personal disasters which you've been experiencing can be traced back to that one awful moment when you made a really, really bad decision. But you know what? It's not too late for you. Just like Scott Bakula in Quantum Leap, you can put right what once went wrong. And you don't even have to spend five seasons trapped in substandard genre programming to do it. No, all you have to do is give me those pictures of your attractive sister. And then all your problems will probably just go away.

In short, we both know in our hearts that you've been a bad, bad person. So send me all the pictures you have, and move on with your life.


Notes: But how bad really was that [redacted], you ask? Believe me, it was quite bad indeed. Quite bad indeed.

Won’t Someone Please Pass Me Something To Staunch This Awful Bleeding?

Oh my, there’s so much of it. Seriously, I thought it would stop, but it won’t, I can’t make it stop. I’ve tried holding it in the air and cutting off the circulation, but it’s still like the set of a Tarantino film in here. The stuff is everywhere, everywhere I tell you. I keep slipping over in puddles of it. It’s on the walls, the ceiling. It’s awful, just awful.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that you know what’s going on here. You’re thinking that I’m only tricking you into supposing that the unstoppable liquid flows of which I speak are blood, and that in fact I am about to make a terribly amusing toilet-humour joke along the lines of what you're used to appreciating on this fine internet we've created. Well, if that's what you're thinking, then you’d be absolutely right. At least, most days you would. But not today. Right now I don’t really feel like making any puns of that sort, because I’m pretty much drowning here. And let me tell you, it’s not half as pleasant as you might suppose. I know you’ve got that thing about liquid suffocation, and sometimes you like to indulge yourself. How you manage to find time amongst all your other perversions for things like that I don’t know. But look, you’ll just have to take my word for it. Being knee deep in one’s own blood is just not as enjoyable as you might imagine. Sure, you can imagine a lot. I know, I’ve read your disgusting emails. But believe me, this is quite unpleasant.

This is how it all happened. There I was, minding my own business, when who should turn up but my arch nemesis Miles Mayhem. You know, the dude from that TV show, MASK. Yeah, you remember MASK. Matt Trakker and his fellow have-a-go-heroes of Mobile Armoured Strike Kommand bravely took on the forces of proper spelling with only the power of acronym, cars that can fly, and a big rig with missiles in it. On their off days, they enjoyed videotaping themselves happy-slapping the vile terrorist forces of VENOM. VENOM, or the Vicious Evil Network Of Mayhem, specialised in terrorism which focused on acronymic pleonasm and redundancy. You can see why the two forces might have been in bitter conflict.

Anyway, everyone knows the story of how Matt Trakker’s mission to eliminate all trace of the dangerous letter C from global spelling eventually led him into the infamous Bloody Wednesday Sesame Street massacre. Surely we all still feel a shiver within our souls at the memory of those shocking images: I for one can no longer close my eyes at night without again seeing the burnt and eviscerated corpse of Cookie Monster hovering before my tortured vision. Still, as I say, this is a story with which we are all too, too familiar. Matt Trakker’s righteous anger led him down a dark path which his long time girlfriend and fellow poorly-animated cartoon character, Natalie Portman, could not follow. But less is known of what happened to the unfortunate and misunderstood Miles Mayhem.

Following Trakker’s dramatic fall from grace, Miles attempted to put his criminal past behind him by taking up new and more secure employment in merchant banking. But with a name like that, Miles Mayhem never really stood a chance of a normal life. The markets were slow, investors were nervous; I imagine there were many times when Miles had very fond thoughts of climbing back into the cockpit of his Helicopter That Transforms Into A Plane Which Still Kind Of Looks Like A Helicopter.

Well, to cut a long story short, the Waspinator-for-President campaign outreach programme tried to help Miles, and I don’t mind telling you that we obviously didn’t do a very good job. Because here I am, deep within the campaign bunker, sitting in a whole load of blood. To be honest with you, it’s getting a bit uncomfortable, and I think it would be fair to say that I’m pretty cheesed off with old Miles right now. It’s not like the outreach programme hasn’t had successes. We’ve helped any number of ineffectual cartoon villains find their place in society. Why, Cobra Commander, Megatron, and even Dr. Claw have all learned that packing shopping bags in the local Co-op really isn’t all that bad an end to a career in hero-baiting.

But I guess we’ll have to chalk one up on the failure side now, won’t we Miles? Thanks a bunch. As soon as I heal these rotor-blade shaped wounds, we’re going to sit down together and have a serious talk.


Notes:

I am aware that the phrase “pleonasm and redundancy” is itself an obvious pleonasm. That is why I used it, so please don’t email me to correct me on this. Do email me with pictures of your attractive sister. Thanks.

My Personalised T-Shirt Now Reads “I Know It Looks Like Herpes, But It Probably Isn’t”

So the news is that I’ve come down with a spot of shingles, which is quite like herpes, only socially acceptable. Anywho, whilst scratching my now crusty and infected skin in the futuristic isolation ward of the Waspinator-for-President campaign headquarters, I was treated to a new television advertisement highlighting the hidden danger that is Sexually Transmitted Infection. In this advert, a host of very conventionally attractive girls…well, let’s use the phrase “get it on”. Pretty good, huh? Bet you’d like to see some of that action, yes? But just wait one moment, because the camera is going to switch to a close-up shot of their skimpy discarded underwear, and guess what? It’s got the word gonorrhea written on it in lacy writing! Oh, the horror!

Okay, so I know what the advert is trying to say. Hey, this girl may look pretty hot, and yes she has nice underwear, but, you know, you should probably use a condom. But what it also says, just as loudly, is that this girl looks pretty hot, and she doesn’t mind if you don’t use a condom, which, as far as I'm aware, is quite a nice proposition for exactly the sort of people to whom this advert is so obviously aimed. So why not get out there and spread it around? I’m pretty sure there’s a cure for gonorrhea anyway, whereas there’s clearly no cure for having to wear a condom. STI’s: are you willing to take the risk? Not until watching this advert, but now I think that yes, yes you probably are.

Actually, I think it has real legs, this idea. I was too quick to ridicule the herpes advertisement, because it’s certainly on to something. What if people really did have warnings about themselves helpfully written on their clothing for all to see? Surely there wouldn’t really need to be all this fuss about giving more “stop and search” powers to our wonderful police force if only Arabic-looking juvenile delinquents could be persuaded to embroider their hoodies with helpful phrases such as “actually, I’m not really Arabic, so you can leave me alone officer”, or perhaps “well, I have a PhD in bio-chemical engineering so I’m definitely not a delinquent, but on the other hand I’ve been openly ambivalent about your ideas of political justice, and I can see that this brick-sized lump under here might look like a dirty bomb, so I guess you should stop and search me although in doing so you’ll probably be prompting me towards terrorism anyway”. 

And forget all that public money spent on ID cards. All we really need is for The Gap to come up with a line of comfortable bio-metric slogan clothing. And alongside the fiddly stuff about names, addresses and previous criminal convictions, all sorts of useful phrases might present themselves. Imagine the greater ease and safety with which social interactions in society could be conducted with the application of textualised garments such as “Don’t date this one, she’s had three kids”, or “I don’t actually have any kittens at home, kid, just a meat rack”.

See? It’s a winner.