1. This one!
That's right, this one. By default, really, because Eric, no doubt cowed by my superior 111 Top 1 Lists idea, has crawled into his aluminum-lined hidey hole to solder his wounds. What else could explain his absence? "Graduate school?" Pshaw! A retreat for society-fearing layabouts*, and nothing more!
And the beauty of it is, of course, that this post is meaningless! It contains almost no content. Its words are empty, its pauses barren, its punctuation unnecessary and often wrongly used? And yet, it is by far the better of the posts posted this week on either mine or Eric's blog, because Eric has failed his loyal readers once again.
Readers. Pfft. I scoff at such quaint notions as "readers." The beauty of no readership, dear sir Walkingshaw, is the perfection of silence. No caterwauls greet my disappearances and disappointments. Like the mythical tree falling in the proverbial forest, I am the sound of one hand clapping.
And so this post ends, as pointlessly as it began. So. Victory is mine!
*Not true, of course, and I look forward to the day when all people with advanced degrees will bestow upon me the currency of their hard-earned dough, because I will very likely be homeless.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
A Programming Note
No, not that kind of programming note. I mean the kind where you're informed ahead of time about changes to your regularly scheduled programming. Like this:
See, with Eric embarking and, to my mild annoyance, seemingly intent on completing his marathon 333 Top 3 Lists, my stated aim of responding in kind to each of his posts with daring feats of textual mockery is in danger of being overwhelmed by the likes of "Top 3 Ways a Robot Can Remove the Brain From a Living, Breathing Human Baby," or "Top 3 Risk Games Eric Walkingshaw Has Played, In Order of Smugness of Victory." And while my wholly original (and in no way a shameless rip-off) compilation of 111 Top 1 lists may stem this tide somewhat, it appears I may have been too clever for my own good, seeing as how long after I've completed that list of lists, Eric will still be only one-third of the way towards Ultimate Victory.
This I cannot allow to pass.
So I am given a choice: change course and post my own marathon list of Top 3s, in order to match Eric at every turn; dive deep into the murky waters of my creativity and counter each list with a post of such awe-inspiring wit that Eric will wail to his robot masters in protest; or simply change the parameters of victory and thus ensure that I will have to muster no extra effort at all.
I am sure that my choice is obvious.
So from this moment on, I will not be trying to match Eric list for list; I will complete my 111 Top 1 lists, as I am a man of my word, but in-between, in order to not Hare my way to defeat against Eric's lumbering Tortoise of lists, I will pepper this blog with non-listy items with which to battle Eric's web-based hubris. Many of these will probably contain mangled metaphors based on old children's fables, but that is the price one pays in such a taxing mind-battle. The end result will justify such illiterate means, I can assure you.
So let me commence this slight change in course by simply pointing out this old video game, wherein you control a cyborg who literally kicks lumps out of rebellious robots (and, as pointed out in the below video, that is literally all you have to do):
Also, I'd like to counter Eric's boyhood fascination with Venus with this documentary footage chronicling my own visit to said planet, long before it was anything but a glittering gem in Eric's mind's sky (no, I don't know what that metaphor means, either). Try to ignore those wisecracking schlubs down front; they certainly didn't make our mission any easier.
| The Colbert Report | Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c | |||
| Sign Off - Richard Dawkins Will Be Here Tomorrow | ||||
| ||||
See, with Eric embarking and, to my mild annoyance, seemingly intent on completing his marathon 333 Top 3 Lists, my stated aim of responding in kind to each of his posts with daring feats of textual mockery is in danger of being overwhelmed by the likes of "Top 3 Ways a Robot Can Remove the Brain From a Living, Breathing Human Baby," or "Top 3 Risk Games Eric Walkingshaw Has Played, In Order of Smugness of Victory." And while my wholly original (and in no way a shameless rip-off) compilation of 111 Top 1 lists may stem this tide somewhat, it appears I may have been too clever for my own good, seeing as how long after I've completed that list of lists, Eric will still be only one-third of the way towards Ultimate Victory.
This I cannot allow to pass.
So I am given a choice: change course and post my own marathon list of Top 3s, in order to match Eric at every turn; dive deep into the murky waters of my creativity and counter each list with a post of such awe-inspiring wit that Eric will wail to his robot masters in protest; or simply change the parameters of victory and thus ensure that I will have to muster no extra effort at all.
I am sure that my choice is obvious.
So from this moment on, I will not be trying to match Eric list for list; I will complete my 111 Top 1 lists, as I am a man of my word, but in-between, in order to not Hare my way to defeat against Eric's lumbering Tortoise of lists, I will pepper this blog with non-listy items with which to battle Eric's web-based hubris. Many of these will probably contain mangled metaphors based on old children's fables, but that is the price one pays in such a taxing mind-battle. The end result will justify such illiterate means, I can assure you.
So let me commence this slight change in course by simply pointing out this old video game, wherein you control a cyborg who literally kicks lumps out of rebellious robots (and, as pointed out in the below video, that is literally all you have to do):
Also, I'd like to counter Eric's boyhood fascination with Venus with this documentary footage chronicling my own visit to said planet, long before it was anything but a glittering gem in Eric's mind's sky (no, I don't know what that metaphor means, either). Try to ignore those wisecracking schlubs down front; they certainly didn't make our mission any easier.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Top 1 Gifts I Received This Christmas, In Order of Usefulness Against Possible Undercover Robot Eric Walkingshaw
1. The Evil Robot Memory Eraser, via Bitchin' Brad McLaughlin (I hereby nominate "Bitchin'" as Brad's official nickname, a la Savage Steve Holland).
The Evil Robot Memory Eraser was a surprise gift from friend of P. and fellow anti-evil robot crusader Bitchin' Brad McLaughlin, who stopped by my home on what I can only assume was a rare Northern Excursion to battle the ever-increasing robotic hordes here in the Pacific Northwest. Purchased in his home turf of Greater Los Angeles, where undercover robots can be difficult to detect under layers of silicon, colagen, botox, and spray-on tans (you didn't think these were just anti-aging devices, did you?), the Evil Robot Memory Eraser is deceptively simple in design, but dreadfully effective. In fact, upon receipt of this gift I discovered that my own dear laptop computer, formerly thought to be an obedient and reliable mechanical slave, was actually an undercover Evil Robot Sleeper Agent! At least, this is what I assume, as my new Memory Eraser, as if propelled by some supernatural force, swiftly attached itself to the laptop and proceeded to purge its memory of all the surveillance data it had collected. I am forever thankful to Bitchin' Brad and his wonderful gift, as who knows what dastardly deeds my robot enemies could have perpetrated with their knowledge of my Netflix queue, copies of numerous failed novel and screenplay attempts, and video footage of me picking my nose while watching soccer highlights. I shudder to think.
If Eric Walkingshaw ever shows the cojones to travel up this way again, I can assure you, my devoted reader, that I will set upon him at once with this wonder device, and watch with glee as his bulbous face grows blank with the disappearance of all his binary knowledge, and he is rendered but a useless husk of synthetic flesh and simulated bone. Not too unlike my harem of provocatively-dressed love dolls, come to think of it. Thanks again, Evil Robot Memory Eraser, for preventing that embarrassing personal detail from becoming public knowledge!
That is...erm...oh. Uh oh.
(2 0f 111)
The Evil Robot Memory Eraser was a surprise gift from friend of P. and fellow anti-evil robot crusader Bitchin' Brad McLaughlin, who stopped by my home on what I can only assume was a rare Northern Excursion to battle the ever-increasing robotic hordes here in the Pacific Northwest. Purchased in his home turf of Greater Los Angeles, where undercover robots can be difficult to detect under layers of silicon, colagen, botox, and spray-on tans (you didn't think these were just anti-aging devices, did you?), the Evil Robot Memory Eraser is deceptively simple in design, but dreadfully effective. In fact, upon receipt of this gift I discovered that my own dear laptop computer, formerly thought to be an obedient and reliable mechanical slave, was actually an undercover Evil Robot Sleeper Agent! At least, this is what I assume, as my new Memory Eraser, as if propelled by some supernatural force, swiftly attached itself to the laptop and proceeded to purge its memory of all the surveillance data it had collected. I am forever thankful to Bitchin' Brad and his wonderful gift, as who knows what dastardly deeds my robot enemies could have perpetrated with their knowledge of my Netflix queue, copies of numerous failed novel and screenplay attempts, and video footage of me picking my nose while watching soccer highlights. I shudder to think.
If Eric Walkingshaw ever shows the cojones to travel up this way again, I can assure you, my devoted reader, that I will set upon him at once with this wonder device, and watch with glee as his bulbous face grows blank with the disappearance of all his binary knowledge, and he is rendered but a useless husk of synthetic flesh and simulated bone. Not too unlike my harem of provocatively-dressed love dolls, come to think of it. Thanks again, Evil Robot Memory Eraser, for preventing that embarrassing personal detail from becoming public knowledge!
That is...erm...oh. Uh oh.
(2 0f 111)
Sunday, January 2, 2011
1 of 111
So Eric is embarking on what seems to be a marathon blog-making session, documenting 333 of his patented Top 3 lists (patent pending). He seems to think it some sort of challenge, a gauntlet thrown down, a slap across my face with some kind of wimpy, sequined glove. As if I'd ever be drawn into such a petty pissing match, a meeting of the minds worth no more than the skin off a leper's toes! 333 Top 3 lists? You'll get no such malarkey here!
Instead, may I offer you 111 of my patented Top 1 lists (patent pending)? More direct and to the point than Eric's 3-item diatribes, I think you'll find my 111 Top 1 lists (patent pending) a suitable and pleasantly brief diversion to your normal Internet-browsing schedule. Which is to say, you now have 66% more time for Facebook-stalking girls you had a crush on 15 years ago. I'll win you yet, Shelley McDougall!
Without further ado:
Top 1 Deadly Robots That I Just Thought Up While Remembering That One Time Shelley McDougall Might Have Looked At Me Across the Gym During an Assembly:
Johnny Five!
Yes, that's right. Oh, sure, he's cute and all, winning the heart of the foolish Ally Sheedy. But lest you forget, all that winning curiosity and childlike naivete hides the capabilities of a cold-blooded killer. This is a war robot, designed to kill its fleshy targets and render them into consumable foodstuffs. Okay, maybe not so much that last part, but it does have rockets on its back for Christ's sake. Why are you playing Pictionary with it!? Get away! Away!
I would elaborate more, but Shelley McDougall just posted some pics of her nephew's birthday party, and I have to scour the photos for a moment of quiet reflection where she might have been thinking about me. I bid you all good night.
Instead, may I offer you 111 of my patented Top 1 lists (patent pending)? More direct and to the point than Eric's 3-item diatribes, I think you'll find my 111 Top 1 lists (patent pending) a suitable and pleasantly brief diversion to your normal Internet-browsing schedule. Which is to say, you now have 66% more time for Facebook-stalking girls you had a crush on 15 years ago. I'll win you yet, Shelley McDougall!
Without further ado:
Top 1 Deadly Robots That I Just Thought Up While Remembering That One Time Shelley McDougall Might Have Looked At Me Across the Gym During an Assembly:
Johnny Five!
Yes, that's right. Oh, sure, he's cute and all, winning the heart of the foolish Ally Sheedy. But lest you forget, all that winning curiosity and childlike naivete hides the capabilities of a cold-blooded killer. This is a war robot, designed to kill its fleshy targets and render them into consumable foodstuffs. Okay, maybe not so much that last part, but it does have rockets on its back for Christ's sake. Why are you playing Pictionary with it!? Get away! Away!
I would elaborate more, but Shelley McDougall just posted some pics of her nephew's birthday party, and I have to scour the photos for a moment of quiet reflection where she might have been thinking about me. I bid you all good night.
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