“‘The targets for assassination are chosen by the wisdom of the crystal unicorns,’ Yasha says.”
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I was going to write a drinking game drinking game, but, as with most of my ideas, somebody else had it first, repeatedly.
I just heard two of the people at my job say “make yourself a dang quesadilla!”
The movie has jumped the shark, friends. It has jumped with both skis flailing.
Tangentially, there’s a pretty new place across from my job that’s either a school for the blind or a blindness advocacy group–I can’t remember. Anyway, their logo image is Braille, I think four letters, which presumably matches up with the acronym of their name (at least it does on the sign out front). This logo is repeated around the walls of the building.
Several feet above head level.
With incandescent light bulbs.
So I lied. I still don’t trust that my funny-filter is better than yours, but I do think it’s better than Dog Bites Dog’s funny-filter (if not, alas, its funny-generator). It also occurred to me that a DBD weblog has a function other than filtering: I think it’s a good thing to archive and save the best bits for future humans, who won’t understand their context, because the links have rotted. But still.
Relatedly, like most postadolescent males, I have harbored in my gut the desire to start a satirical news publication. Since by far the best part of any such rag is the headlines, though, that’s all I ever bothered to produce. For the last few months, whenever I’ve felt particularly savage about something in popular culture, I’d come up with a headline and archive it. That wasn’t often enough to be a viable source of content on its own. Combined with somebody else’s generated headlines, though, it might be!
It is for these combined purposes that I’ve set up Dog Bites, a weblog in the vein of Spam As Folk Art. It should have new content every day or two, or more often if DBD is on a hot streak and I’m feeling hateful. I hope you like it! (And hey, my SAFA co-maintainers, let me know if you want in on some of this action.)
Not many people will understand how hard this is
Right, Lent. I’m giving up french fries. Starting tomorrow because I didn’t know I was doing it when I got lunch.
Addendum: I have officially quit reading The Well at the End of the World. I’m sorry, I just don’t have the strength. I really want to know where those entries in the dictionary came from, but there’s a reason I rarely read anything written before I was born (the reason is that I’m a terrible person).