Posts Tagged ‘frustration

23
Jun
20

A Minor Aid for Feminine Outrage

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So, I have this collection of images on rotation for a sort of screen saver…

And, among the images, I see one with a gal about to explode from her temper…

And, it gets me thinking about Jen Walters, aka Marvel’s original She-Hulk…

And so, I did a lil tweaking which lead to these images; I made an effort not to leave anyone out.  But, let me know if I need to make another variation; give me the details of how she should look to match your type.   Feel free to use the appropriate image with your significant pain-in-the-ass when you want to strangle them.

youremakingmeangry-jenwalters-shehulk-shinobu-UY-fusion_ap-CSPP-1150x1400-72px-2G

 

13
Dec
19

Venting Colbert Report, 12-13-2019

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That’s right. It’s called Venting Colbert Report, like the cable-TV show the suit once hosted “in character.” So, set your VCRs to “not stunned” at what I’m about to say; it’s nothing new but needs to be said.

I just want to take a little time to let off some steam about a certain late-night talk-show host who has been the silver-tongued court jester, grilling the current US president ever since the big businessman and his gorgeous (first) daughter (and the rest of the family) stepped into office.

pointout-donaldtrumpandkids_lovelyivanka-2

Colbert may have the best personality and face to show at those hours. But, he’s wasting his breath and making me ill more often than he can make me laugh.

I’m so tired of so many things in this world; my memory isn’t entirely sure…but I’m pretty sure this isn’t the first time I’ve written about him/this. I don’t even watch the show regularly, anymore. And yet, there comes a point when you hear and see enough, with family input, to make you want to scream. Rather than scream or throw things, I choose to type out my fury and need to vomit in a more “rational coping” way.

Ehem.

Disclaimer. If you have a beef with the current US president and/or are a die-hard Democrat and/or Colbert fan, do not take anything I have to say as Republican or any negative attitude/force against all that is good. If you do, you might be on the path to becoming a bully or troll…like this guy (who I am about to point at with my steely index finger and try not to make an obnoxious sound). And, some band of hobbits or other mythical folks will come along to smite you.

MEANWHILE!!!…Mr. Stephen J. Tolkien Colberenstein Bearson spins lyrics after lyrics about the big cheese and anyone who crosses paths with the guy, calling everyone names–occasionally funny names–and dancing around the stage like…well…a court jester. He’s so busy doing it, he doesn’t have time to wipe all the seemingly intellectual crap he’s spewing from his Charmin behind. Yep. You may say he has a silver tongue. But, his tongue doth only look silverish because-eth he hast spent countless years polishing it, bent over a writing desk, trying to turn ravens into wood. He has been working with other writers on other shows that try to make other people look amusing and worked his way to the front of the stage. And, unlike his late-night cohorts, who are choking on his exhaust fumes, trying to keep up, he has excelled and fed on applause like a vampire sucks your blood (or raids the ice chest of a hospital). Turn the lights down a little, and you’ll find him curled up in a corner, reading about hobbits and dwarves and ready to cast fake spells at you if you disturb him. The other guys in bad suits sweat frozen burritos and cough up last night’s dinner while Mr. Frank Lloyd Copy-n-Write Webber Grill greases the competition, leaving a flaming oil slick on the race track.

[I’d compare him to the stocky Jimmy…well, the dark-haired one…the one with a Hispanic sidekick…the one who likes to leech onto basketball games for extra air time, because they both excel at calling people names and little else. But, I’d hate for the two to team up and start dishing out wedgies at schools.]

Who was once a refreshingly smooth-talking guy, trying to best the freckled Irishman (who worked his way up from one half of a sinister geek duo to solo string-dancing superstar, Conan O’Brien, who was slighted a better broadcast slot), dazzling the crowd and featuring some nifty special-effects segments about a variety of things, insisting he was not going to be the political menace he was on non-broadcast TV, when he was “in character,” has turned the hypocritical heel and become the Burger King of hashing out politico fries. All he needs is a paper hat and a stained apron.

Colbert has beaten the dead darkhorse, broken the record and made the guy holding the starting pistol point the barrel at his own head. If he’s going to flash that Captain America shield wherever he goes, I cannot be a Captain America fan. I am struggling to be an America fan, already. He’s not helping.

Turning another light on this subject, trying a different angle, there’s a point when funny becomes badgering, when a witty remark becomes, “Hey, basketball head, want me to dribble you all the way home and tell your mommy to call you Wilson?” If you get people to laugh about the foolishness someone has done, good for your fifteen minutes in the spotlight. But, Idina Menzel, man. Let it go! You can’t be those other late-night guys trying the same jokes twice, just in case people don’t watch every night. You can’t expect me to turn off my TV for a month, come back and enjoy more of what I heard last time as if you were a newborn smartmouth waiting to be baptized into geekdom.

[Switching to interview mode…]

But, Mr. Colbert Cheese on Bleh, I know; you probably don’t write all of this stuff, yourself. You…probably have a disorganized team of writers at your side, pitching ideas, feeding you lines. You just read the cards. You’re the figurehead of…well…your own government? Hmm. Who does that sound like?…like a certain orange-faced businessman who looks like he’s in charge but also part of a three-branch government who can handle itself just fine without you turning countless American minds into computer-phone scrolling gelatin-heads who’d rather vote for you than an actual candidate or take your word for a reason to vote or not to vote. Does it matter who we vote for? Are we voting in anticipation of Mr. Late Night putting the winner on the hot seat?

[Now, back to talking-to-someone-else mode…]

Yet, I’ll still say Colbert must have a brain; he doth read a lot of imaginative works. He must have some magic in that old top hat he found. And, when he puts it on his head, he is sure to dance around. [Have you heard that song?] Perhaps, this is all a strategic move. Perhaps, getting the competition to try and follow his dance steps is Colbert’s way of staying on top. He plays the pied-piper flute, gets the other guys to chuckle nervously and sweat buckets; and, soon, he’s the only one still standing.

[And then back to interview mode…]

Bravo, Mr. Showmancer. And, yet, your British spy-apprentice doth have another magic in his pocket, where he keeps one hand to grope himself and cope with the thoughts running through his head when a “hunky” “delicious” male guest is on his show, before he mentions his wife and kids. He would seem to be a true wizard at getting people bigger contracts and other business. He turns the new turd on the street into streaming gold, when he’s not processing pot with his Showtime-Pizza-Place band (including one beautiful bass-guitar player) and partying like Dionysus. [Sadly, his smaller ragged band sounds better than yours, too. Ouch. But…you just keep staying…eh, human.] He has even seduced a lovely blonde songstress I admire into playing cat-and-cat with him.

MEANWHILE!!!…you continue wrenching those eyebrows and trying to figure out what to do with your hands every night. How is a raven like a Conan O’Brien or a running Letterman, sir? I’d ask the raven. But, he’s too busy dancing and picking on the same bloated corpse to answer.

So…I’m going to go, now, and try to wash that tripe right out of my hair, again, try to forget what got me all worked up in the first place…because…you’re not worth it. You’ve spent, what, three years now? hounding this guy and all who cross his path; I’d have a hard time looking at you when–this–is all over and not replaying your previous grilling in my mind. You go so far to tease–no, harass and harangue–the man about what’s in his pants, night after night.

Are you going to be as outspoken with the next president? Are you going to keep the political grill-train going for as long as you stand on stage? Don’t you have more to contribute? Or, are you too much of a geek to talk about it? There’s no king to send you to any number of death-dealing service providers, but that doesn’t mean you should dance and pitch the same crap every day.

Even Tolkien would be turning in his grave, mumbling, “Dude. If I had a plus-five Sword of Mercy, I’d use it to end this madness. Screw your vital roll, sir. You’ve said too much and wasted your turn. I take my ring of power and disappear from this world you’ve sullied.” [Or, that’s just what I imagine he would say if he was a DnD geek.]

Don’t be just another twit doing impersonations of a tweeter.

StephenColbert_candidheadshot-November2016-1

You’re a wit, sir. Now, use it, properly.

12
Dec
19

Special Days and Family Animosity

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Who cares about special days, anyway?  Why get worked up about celebrating anything, when family is there to rain crap on your parade?  Hmm?

I mean, it’s just stupid to continually get your hopes up even a small measure when you know someone or something stupid and unkind is going to appear.  If it’s not the lousy weather, it’s family…which, for me, can be like a hurricane or tornado of misery.

But, that’s life.  That’s what this lucky guy has been given.  I live it.  And, then, at some point, hopefully when I’m still sane, I’ll die.  God(s) help me.  Where is this life going?  What is my calling?  ‘Still unclear on that one.

Why DO I clash with my family so much?  Why can’t I tolerate my brother, anymore?  Why does he just have to be in the room for me to turn bitter and raise my scorpion tail?

I’m sick of getting upset, sick to my stomach with disapproval and feeling like my body is going to combust at any moment with my heart racing, my eyelids fluttering and my teeth wearing away.

And, when I seek answers from someone I thought I liked, someone who isn’t part of the current battle, the best I get is a silly offer to take drugs or see a therapist.  Nice.  I could have gotten that answer from a commercial or poster somewhere.  Maybe you have a manual on how to live I can read.

And, breathe.

No mas, ‘kay?

06
Dec
19

Gaming Frustration Vent, 12-6-2019

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Just blowing off a little G5 hidden object game steam, again.  It’s convenient I came across this caveman-ish fellow.

G5-games-vent_geico-caveman-spoof-ad_ap-CSPP-1200x800-2

[Tee-hee.  Car insurance laugh.]

24
Oct
19

$1,000 for the Makers of G5 Games

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I recently invited people to join me in playing an online/offline game made by the G5 company. Since then, I’ve sampled two of their very artistic…and very vexing *free* hidden item games. If you are familiar with the games, then you will likely find what I have to say fairly amusing. If you have no idea what I am talking about, feel free to find out for yourself or just carry on with your mindless scrolling.

Dear G5 Games,

I am so pleased with your work. I’d like to offer you $1,000. I know you normally ask for less to buy various starter kits, chests and whatnot. I’m saving time and being generous for all your wonderful artwork and…ehem…time-killing entertainmennnn-tah. But, there’s a catch.

To collect this $1,000, you must find it in a picture, a picture that is very dark and blurry like a bad painting of a barn in one color, a picture set at *Magister* level. And, the money will be disguised as a thin silver thread, like a slender antenna, which blends in with about a million other brush strokes in the blurry painting. It’s a very dark picture; so you’ll likely need a flashlight (which is quite useless and only lasts five seconds) or a torch (which is slightly less useless and just as temporary). Just to make you feel better…or worse…I’m going to surround the item you are seeking with dozens of other things you’d like, including other dollar amounts, money bags, etc. Oh, wouldn’t that be sweet. But, no; they are just there to distract you…like so many pictures we players must search over and over and over and over and over and over again, looking at all the objects we normally cannot find so easily, laid out in front of us, mocking us.

Even if you find the silver thread, which is no bigger than an eyelash and partially hidden behind another section of the picture, you’ll find it difficult to click on. If you get weak, you can just wait a day to recharge and try again; or spend a few talismans to rev yourself back up in a fraction of that time.

But, wait, there’s more.

Before you can even reach this picture, you must make a journey of a two hundred and eighty-five levels, gathering three billion coins and unfathomable “experience.” Are you up to the task? Cuz you sure put us players to it!

[You go from needing 20,000 coins to open one portal in Twin Moons to 84,000?! And, to rack up that kind of coin, you need to get combiners that are only available in portals miles upon miles ahead of what’s accessible, spend countless hours making what is available even more difficult and expensive than it already is…or buy our way there? You folks are cruel and nuts. You might as well just make all the portals accessible at no cost or need to collect a billion bitty things and just sell the game for $20 in a form that can be installed, uninstalled and reinstalled with ease, and call it a year. Because you are proving there is no “fun” in “game.” Like some video games of the past, you have lots of nice graphics but are lacking elsewhere. I’ve been tempted to try some of your other games, but I reaaaaally don’t want to go through more of the same grief. Wait; I am having a psychic moment…the big solution at the end of the game, the answer to the mystery…oh, there our missing elder man is, in the final picture, like reaching the end of Candy Land. Big whoop. By the time I get there, I’ll look back on all the time I invested in the games and cry.]

And, should you succeed, you may come away with any number of other useless items for combining one of your many random collections of images which the characters in the games fake caring about for flimsy reasons…or no reward at all. You might solve the picture and get nothing. That happens. Right? But, do try and try again and again, searching a thousand times if you must to find that lucky thread of payment. Then you can spend it on more useless stuff in your own games…or pay a small portion of a medical bill…maybe something for your eyes.

So, aren’t you glad I sent this payment? Aren’t you glad you made these ridiculously challenging and frustrating games that can crash, show pictures that don’t belong in the games and lose progress gained in a blink? Thank you for making them *free.* Now, I’d like my eyesight, time and heaps of patience back. [But, lovely artwork…the not-the-least-bit-creepy parts (not just about every male character that looks like some secretive killer), anyway.]

Sincerely, your pal,
Writingbolt

PS  The recent Halloween festival in Secret Society has been remotely refreshing, considering it didn’t involve a glitch…though that last glitch was somehow tied to downloading another of your games which does not seem to recharge energy and follow the clock/calendar of the other…as if you just cast that old child aside.

06
Sep
19

“No Mas. ‘Kay?” My New Mantra

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It’s a simple “Spanglish” thing that came to me while tuning out the drama that happens on a regular broadcast day in the Big Brother “house.”  I said to myself, “Namaste.”  And then, as I repeated it, thinking…that mean’s I see the light in you, I think…not something you say just to vent or release frustration, I turned it into something…else; into this.

NoMasKay-namaste-substitute-zenseekingmethod_ap-CSPP-text-6001200-2C

So, the next time someone or something you hear is getting on your nerves, just take a deep breath and, as you let it out, huff, “No mas.  ‘Kay?”  And, be on your way.

 

18
Nov
16

No More Star Wars; I Think I’m Full

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“It’s the story of a young rebel being recruited to help steal the plans for the Death Star.”  Featuring Forest Whitaker and another brunette damsel in the lead role Carrie Fisher could have had; but it’s not Leia.**

Yep.  I think that about says it all.  I think I am done with the whole Star Wars craze.  Pack up my toys.  Put my plans for stormtrooper costumes away.  Burn my blueprints for any new plots.  Because they’re just going to up the budget, blow more money, make more excessive merchandise (including re-painted versions of the old merchandise in new packaging) and re-use what’s been done, anyway.  [There aren’t enough Native Americans to look at the landfill overflow and cry.]  The best any creative mind can do is post a poorly made independent film on some internet video showcase site and turn people away from what made theaters you sit with other people in great.

South Park, you got it right with your ‘member berry story.

The last “new” film made me angry.  Now I see the new one is one more Death Star story.  You end the empire only to reuse its parts, kill off my favorite rebel and throw in some stereotypical alien-looking Golem from the Lord of the Rings story as your big villain.  Now, you go back in time to tell the story of a girl doing what essentially Luke Skywalker did in Episode Four.  Way to break the gender glass ceiling.  Too bad Hillary didn’t get in office to enjoy it.  [Cool points to anyone who gets where I was going with that bit.]

In short, I am considering starting a rebellion of my own.  We can call it the Red __ (whatever number we assemble), the band of frustrated sci-fi fans who are seeing red under new leadership which smells no fresher than the old leadership.  We gotta fly our lil fighting-mad ships into that film studio HQ and blow something fierce up their womp-rat crap chutes.

Who’s with me?

 

**[I adore Felicity Jones…awlought.  However, no offense, but, Forest Whitaker–outside of his stellar role in the first Species film–seems to pick up roles in on-going franchises long after the parade has ended.  He seems to signal the final turn around the toilet bowl.]
21
Mar
16

Let’s Post! The Start of Something Old

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I have an idea.  Let’s put it online for all to see.

Well, wait, there are some buttons and options to navigate, first.  And, from what I see, I have options for who can see what I post.  Suddenly, this just got complicated.

Written.  Published.  Done.  [Thank goodness for speedy internet service; or I’d be staring at a little wheel going around for a few hours.]

Oh, yeah.  Those other options.  Let’s see.

Well, this IS kinda personal, so maybe I won’t make it open to everyone.

Categories?  Tags?  I am not big on labels.  I just want to be heard by a select group of people I cannot see but will inevitably trust with my thoughts and feelings.

Images?  Those used to slow down my old PC.  And, the world has such an image problem, already.  No thanks.

And, I just ABHOR that trendy website and all of those clickable approval button thingies.  So, let’s switch those off.  There.

Okay.  AAAAnd, publish.  Let’s see what we’ve got.

…Three days later…

You’ve selected a whole new set of buttons and user settings.  You can no longer click what you clicked before to enjoy this place.  Your comment history is lost in space.

Bigsnot69 and ten others LIKE this.

Idontgiveashat478 reposted it in his Funny Shat I Found.

And, 0 people have viewed this post.

Way to go, WordPress!  You’ve made a star out of my private diary!

Everybody now!  We’re gonna do it!  On your mark, get set and go now…got a dream and we just know now…we’re gonna make our dreams come true!  And, we’ll lose it their way, yes, their way!  Making our dreeeams turn bluuuue for them and yoooou!

 

05
Jan
16

When Bookworms Write Erroneous Sentences…

I feel the urge to bang my head against a table…

and then grab the bookworm’s head and slam it against a wall, hoping to dislodge whatever causes their malfunction to write properly. 

I mean…COME ON!  You claim to read hundreds of books every year!  Learn to use the proper verb!  There ARE tons of books you want to read.  There IS a long list.  You ARE not aware of your written mistakes.  There IS someone getting irked by it…especially if you ever end up on a list for writing awards.

Grrr-AH!

28
Oct
15

I’m a Yod?

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I just latched onto a shooting star that brought a new term into my horizon.  A yod.  Have you heard of such a thing?  I had not until today.  And, it took two dips into one information pool to get a decent grasp–though it still boggles the mind a bit without some visuals/charts I can comprehend–on the concept.

I won’t go into details.  I’ll let you research it yourselves.  But, I am thinking this is what’s been separating me from the world around me all my life.  It’s coded in me.  I am pulled in three directions perpetually.  It just changes flavor of ugliness or difficulty with every stage of my life.  Like ripples in a pond, it echoes and makes itself most known when obstacles stand in my way.

So, as I just told someone, I am thinking of changing my name to Yod, the difficult one.

I truly feel like crying right now…as if my eyes have been reopened.  I feel I should be smart enough to grasp this.  I’ve already read about the challenge my combination of signs presents.  Yet, this new term and explanation winds me with all the freshness of some parent striking a child for doing wrong.




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