Something a little more creative than “Caption This Diary” which was the best that I could think up would be good.
If you’re any good at thinking up the best the you can think up please do your best to think of the best title you can think up, and leave it in a comment below if you want ponies. Ponies are good, so I’m told.
Rec’s are even better.
There is no prize, btw. Except just ponies that you’ll get a huge ego boost from and get to walk around feeling deservedly smug and superior for awhile.
There are no rules either.
And that’s only rule number 1. Rule number 2 is you must follow all the rules or the local gang of purity trolls will make your life hell for 5 seconds. So it’s good to follow the rules.
Rule number 3 is that I have no idea what the hell I’m talking about here, and neither do you by now, and if you think you do then you’re probably as delusional as me and you probably really need to read Schizophrenia and You instead of this stupid diary:
He died for our sins
For those who can master it, it’s a fine way to see the world. You get secret messages from the radio, TV, and most movies. You know God personally (so you don’t need Jesus as a go-between). The best ones can maintain their powers despite medication. Did you ever wonder about the existence of ghosts and angels and demons? Somebody had to have seen them, right? Now you know.
It begins for some when the trees start telling you their names. The flowers sing an inane little song like a children’s song that threatens to drone on indefinitely. There is another world, and it may contain well-organized squirrels. That famous karate guy doesn’t exist in the other world. But there’s plenty of paranoia to go around.
Gratuitous Image: And he went ‘WAP!’ with a bat on the head of the baby puppy after it had looked at him with those big adorable eyes.
Just because you think there’s a conspiracy or someone’s out to get you doesn’t mean it’s not true. But there are peculiar psychic fields around hospitals that keep conspirators and murderers out for the most part. The maintenance of this field is the reason you’re not supposed to use cell phones in the wards themselves. Why don’t people figure this out? Because unlike in the movies, murderers and conspirators are stupid.
You would think that the ability to see angels, demons, and ghosts would give you special powers. Well, it doesn’t. You can’t usually talk to them. I prefer the plants. They speak clearly and use small words so the slower ones among us can follow. Unfortunately, most people aren’t even listening.
And that’s the overarching problem of the human condition in 2008 as I see it. I mean 09, Sorry, 10. Ok, 2011. Probably 2012 too.
Most people not only aren’t even even listening, but most people weren’t even even listening, and I keep running into this problem where I don’t have any idea (again) what the hell I’m talking about.
And if you think you do then you’re in for a nasty shock, because so far this has been the best part of this title-less diary.
It’s get much worse on the flip.
This is The Flip:
There is a Wikipedia. And there is a Conservapedia.
And THEN, THEN, there is The Uncyclopedia.
No, no, not the Unicyclopedia. The Unicyclopedia is the official encyclopedia of Unicycles. It has all the information on unicycles that you will (n)ever need, but you’ll only ever need that kind of unbiased information if you’re a clown.
Although, come to think of it, maybe Barky Obama needs that. And don’t even think about WAP!’ing the Gratuitous Image above. The Secret Service and the Purity Patrol (think F-Troop) both read your mind through your internet connection and they’ll be on your ass before you know what hit you if you even think about WAP!’ing the Gratuitous Image above.
But you should know, not from the left biased Wikipedia or from the right wingnut Conservapedia, but from the really and truly unbiased center (r-i-i-i-g-h-t!) Uncyclopedia, who this Barky Obama guy really and truly is, deep under the surface where reality lies:
Election as President
Despite a radical voting record during his cameo appearance in the Senate, Obama gained a centrist reputation by behaving identically to most other senators: promptly using his post as a stepping-stone to higher office (of which there is exactly one) despite having told Illinois voters he would complete his term. This gambit let Obama show his virtuosity at deflecting accusations, most often with the claim that his promises are “old news” and his accusers are old-fashioned, are bought off by industry, and cling to guns. If you had to do it that often, you’d get good at it too. But Obama never approached the masterful response of his party’s last President: “Well, I meant it when I said it.”
His message of “hope and change” mesmerized American voters. He famously promised Joe the Plumber that he intended to “share the wealth” and return it “to its rightful owners,” usually meaning the audience for that day’s speech. Even Joe was convinced that his earnings could be better spent helping “the guy on his way up after you”; and he became Obama’s Ohio campaign manager and, later, a black Muslim.
Ultimately, “hope and change,” apart from the obvious fact that Obama was not Bush, became hard to flesh out. But ridicule worked as perfectly as ever, and Obama’s opponent was nothing if not ridiculous. Obama defeated the cranky old guy with 53% of the vote, something oddly referred to as a landslide and a mandate to correct America’s perennial defect of not having enough bureaucracy.
After his inauguration, Obama firmly spread the word of hope and change to all walks of life, and to all peoples in all nations, so that we may prosper under his warming, glowing, warm glow.
Many Republican opponents suspect Obama’s victory is to blame on the use of brainwashing machines. Liberal scientists explain these strange phenomena in the sky as being weather balloons. The general public wonders why weather balloons look so freakin’ weird these days.
Cementing of power
I Ain’t Gonna Eat Out My Heart Anymore
Every so often this picture screams “Hope and change” and shoots fire out of its mouth. There’s that black suit/white background contrast again.
Caption this diary will you? Put me out of my misery.
Music wouldn’t hurt either, since it’s Saturday.
“Sunday”, I mean. I knew that.