Dear Correctness Readers,
Orphan Black is a new science fiction series starring Canadian actors, made by BBC America, and registered in Liberia as “The Princess of the Seas”. A lot of people (we imagine would) have been asking us to explain the plot arc of the first season (if we were still a popular alt-comedy nerd website), so we thought we’d do a public service (to our ourselves), and really break down this hot new show (way into the first season so nobody will pay much attention)!
Dearest Correctness Reader (Marc):
We here at The Correctness have noticed a disconcerting trend in metaphor and simile construction in recent years. We aim here to set the record straight- and you’ll note we just used both a targeting metaphor as well as a police record / trial metaphor (as well as some kind of embedded meta-metaphor about straightness and correctness being associated, but we digress). We do this not because you care, but because we are bored and single again, and we have just had an important birthday and have accomplished virtually nothing of any relevance or lasting significance with our lives (We, of course, are using the “royal we” here, because we are referring to TBinns and Admin_Rock.).
Ed’s Note: We turned RobbieRobTown loose on a review of 50 Shades of Grey for a few laughs. The project changed him.
50 Shades of Rage: A Book Review
I want to be clear about this: 50 Shades of Grey was so awful, it somehow rendered me sterile. It gave my eyes a hernia. I can no longer do math after reading it. I smell burning toast when I look at it. My inner goddess sharted real razor blades.
You know, if you’re just generally angry at everything like I am, especially at Fox “news”, then you are often at a loss, in the moment, to specify what is bothering you about someone or their infuriating statements. How many times have you been enraged but incapable of explaining, at the time, what has enraged you? It happens to me constantly. Once I’ve had a few days to determine what conceptually profane or illogical propaganda disgusts me, I’m too far out of the offending conversation (or news item) to fix things. Climate change doesn’t exist! There is no such thing as poverty! The Bible says you can’t have asian friends! What? None of that makes sense, but I think I’ve heard all of that. Thus, I present to you, a list of multi-purpose complaints that can be printed and kept in your pocket for just such an occasion. You will not have to recall a single detail of the troublesome stupidity you encountered, simply read this statement, and claim your right to be logical later.
I SUPPOSE there are some SPOILERS in here. You were warned.
A Case for Prometheus (With some spoilers)
Okay, it’s about time I took my turn trying to defend something in our nerdy universe that I think you, dear readers, may have misjudged. I think you misjudged Ridley Scott’s Prometheus.
“RobbieRobTown,” you will say, “firstly, where have you been, and secondly, what happened to your brain to make you so retarded?”.
I am writing to apologize. While you too were spending your Friday night at the Best Buy perusing BluRay discs, you at least were in the company of two openly nerdy friends, whereas I was alone, and listening in. Also, I was gassy, so if you detected a smell coming from A-D, I was having a reaction to Aeon Flux.
When your two openly nerdy friends (A nerd couple! A rarity!) asked if anyone had seen THX 1138 you described it as weird. This description was apt, and totally fair. I am apologizing because of my unnecessary commentary. Without looking up at any of you, I added, simplistically: “I am forced to agree. It is super weird.”
How do you like our new look, suckbuggies? Are you sucking about towne in your suckbuggy thinking “Holy Nutmothers! This new look is badass!”
Well, you can park your suckbuggy on ‘Nad Valley Road and Taint boulevard, because our new look is so in your face, it’s a moisturizer! Made of poop! That’s a poopsturizer, you grape-enablers.
RobbieRobTown has been hard at work trying to bring the funny back to The Correctness. Was he successful? No. Here’s the video of the attempt.
Classic Jokes Ruined!
When I was a young boy, my father was always giving well timed and meaningful advice. When I was first learning to ride my bike, he turned to me and said “You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear”, and I knew that he meant if I wanted to be a mermaid when I grew up it would be okay with him. On another occasion, as I was dealing with a bully, he leaned down and whispered in my ear “Do you think you could take your old man in a drinking contest?” and I knew that he meant I should follow a path of non-violent resistance.
A lot of our twelve readers have been asking us: “Hey, can you Canucks at The Correctness explain Super Tuesday to us? It makes no sense”. Well, rest assured, the two or so of you that are still reading, we have done extensive research and we are now ready to explain not just Super Tuesday, but the primaries in general.
Webster’s dictionary defines “primary”- I don’t feel I need to go on, if you want a definition, go look it up.
Hello Dearest Readers:
A lot of you have been asking me to clarify the history of St. Valentine’s day, and how it came to be celebrated as we celebrate it today. Well, since there is no greater expert on things both historically accurate and romantic, I RRRT (The third R is for “romance”), will be your guide in to the true meaning of St. Valentine’s Day!
Dearest Readers, both Ladies and Gents:
First of all, sorry we’ve been away for a while. TBinns is writing for TVision, and Ad_Rock is directing theatre. I’ve been lazy. However:
A lot of you be constantly up in my grill, bein’ all : “Excuse me, RobbieRobTown, you are a noted seducer/ lothario/ rockstar/ gymnast. Can you please share some of your sexy sexual sex tips for sexing sex?”
Well, I’m glad a lot of you asked that so often, and I’m ready, at long, hard last, to share some of the secrets from my boudoir of bonism. Here are my top 50 tips for keeping your love life as spicy as a salami of the spicy variety, and probably higher in phosphates!
Not too long ago, Dear Reader, I sent a detailed information package to the Discovery Channel about my idea for a new series. It was rejected. I have posted the emails between Discovery and myself below, so you may decide for yourself how bad my idea was.
A Very Justice Leaguey Christmas!
By RobbieRobTown and TBinns
It was the morning of December 24th, high above the earth on the Justice League satellite. Actually, it might technically have been December 23rd in some places – these things are tricky when you are in orbit. Business was winding down for the holiday season, and despite news that well-trained, radioactive weasels had burrowed into Lucas “Snapper” Carr’s anus and eaten him alive from the inside out, things had been quiet.
You are no doubt aware that you are the manufacturer of Frosted Flakes. If you are not aware of this fact, you should be. I am going to presume you are, indeed, aware. Of this fact. You guys make Frosted Flakes. Your “Frosted Flakes”, which are puffed corn of some variety or another, have the unlikely mascot of an anthropomorphic tiger, who wears a scarf for some reason. This he does, and I can only surmise, because Tony is a gang member, or possibly a barnstormer.
A Terse, Disappointed Review of DC’s new Green Arrow #1
This week, RobieRobTown takes on yet another of the New 52 in the DC Universe! What will he say? Find out below!
This week: Mad Max of, uh, those Mad Max movies vs Han Solo, recurring peripheral character in the Sit Com known as Star Wars
A while back here on my comedy website thing, which is highly regarded by my mom, I invited Emma Stone to enter the “Win a Date with RobbieRobTown” contest. She did not enter then, nor has she submitted an entry since I reopened the contest earlier this summer. To be fair, Emma Stone hasn’t the foggiest idea who I am, or if I am charming, homicidal, or both. So, to preface this letter without any further speculation, I am not writing this to tell you to keep your mitts offa my lady, as such a statement would be untrue, sexist, and incalculably fucktarded.
Dear Correctness Readers:
Since the addition of our new intern, Smunchy, or whatever his name is, I have been soft pitching him awesome ideas for your comedic enjoyment. Like, underhand soft-pitching. “Hey, Krunkles”, I have been saying about the office, “here are some amazing ideas to base an article around. All you have to do is stir and enjoy!”
“I’ll get right on it!” Blumpie would say.
Here is a list of ideas that Ringo has totally neglected to turn into articles for you people.
1. Mumford Cuthbert’s Comfort Cupboard
It’s a mattress store. The proprietor is named Mumford Cuthbert. It sounds a bit like “comfort”. The tagline for the hilarious advertising is “It’s Mumcomfortable!”. How the fuck is this not funny, Benji? Are you too busy having your sexual sex with your female human girlfriend to write this script? Disappointing.
2. A Case for: Covington Cross
I’m out for a walk!
What a perfect night for this.
Lilac in the air.
Oh, shit. Goddamn it.
A truck mounts the curb. Assholes!
Easy to spot them.
They check for cops and see none.
This looks bad for me.
Truck with a Hemi
That is a big engine, boys.
Dear Writers of the Green Lantern Movie who I am too lazy to IMDB:
Some of our regular readers here at The Correctness know I am not an expert on all things Green Lantern. I made a whimsical comment at one point about Hal Jordan getting his powers from being bitten by a radioactive lantern, and a few nerds took offense and sent death threats. As a consequence of my ignorant and insensitive comment, I was shipped away by my fellow contributors at The Correctness to Green Lantern boot camp. I read “Secret Origins”, “Rebirth” and “Sinestro Corps War”. I even got started on “Blackest Night”, which I have had the courtesy not to confuse with the “Dark Knight” which is a different thing in your DC universe entirely. The Dark Knight was the guy who got bitten by the radioactive bat, whereas I am now aware that Hal Jordan’s powers are generated by an immense night-light on the planet Oprah. All sorted.
Having learned so much about the Green Lantern(s), I must say I was shocked when your film strayed so far from the origin story I was familiar with. I was agape (agape? a grape?) – I was a grape in the audience at my local multiplex when the story onscreen was so wildly different that I almost thought I was in the wrong theatre!
It was a wild time at The Correcteness panel at the Calgary Comic Expo! Literally dozens (Dozen. Half dozen. Four.) of our regular readers showed up for vote for their favourite heroes in an epicesque battle to the deathish! Not only that, but the Calgary Con saw the sudden and triumphant re-opening of the “win a Date with RobbieRobTown” contest, at the behest of Summer Glau (who I am sure was dropping me a specific hint in an audience of 5000 people).
There were 7 contenders in the Smackdown this year, and the audience voted in a favourite hero as well. Before I go on to list who was in the battle this year, may I just say that if you give the audience a choice on who is in the Smackdown, they will make obscure, irrational choices to spite me.
Oh, hello Correctness Readers. I didn’t see you there. I literally didn’t, because I wrote this in the past, from your point of view as the reader, and you are not at the moment wherever you are right now when you will read this, or more clearly, when you are currently reading this, ie: you are reading this now, but not then (your past) when I wrote it, so I couldn’t see you there because of the linear passage of time.
Good news Correctness Fans!
While our American friends are busy watching the same 45 seconds of footage of a bloody mattress in Pakistan tonight, I am dedicating myself to bring you live Canadian election coverage. I’m ready, I bought a bunch of snacks n’ shit. You can get all of your news right here at the TheCorrectness.com. I assure you, great pains will be taken to be as accurate as I always am. I am legendarily accurate. Lots of people know me as the accurate source of the Green Lantern origin story, and now you can all get to know me as a trusted news source. A lot of you followed my gripping updates on Valentine’s Day, and I can only hope to keep you just as engaged as I did then…
This is your current advertisement. I hate it. I do not hate wantonly, but I freely and unabashedly hate this ad. It makes me want to jab pencils in each ear so that the last sound I hear is the sound of HB graphite in stereo. It makes me want to give myself a new optical prescription by scraping a potato peeler against my corneas. It makes me want to swallow one hundred “Do Not Eat” silica desiccant packets so that my last bowel movement will violently rocket a dusty puff made of my intestines and what’s left of my soul into the sewer. Let me tell you what is wrong with this ad.
0:00 : Here are 4 attractive women in a coffee shop. They are there, I assume by the sunlight, around mid day? Let me start again: Here are 4 attractive unemployed women. You can tell they are unemployed because they are dressed casually, they all appear to have nothing better to do, and one of them is sitting on the floor for some reason.
Dearest Correctness Peeps:
There have been some mixed reviews for Sucker Punch, and I would like to do what we do best here and tell the negative reviewers why they are so very, very wrong. So very wrong. I saw Sucker Punch recently (in IMAX, where it was delightfully large, and verging on too loud…) and I can assure you that it rocked my socks so so hard my socks became molecularly unstable and evaporated out of my shoes. That’s some serious sock rock. I don’t know much about Brownian motion, but i order for my socks to be rocked completely off some serious energy would have to have been harnessed, and then directed at my socks. I’m going to try and do this without spoilers, and just encourage y’all to get out of your basements and go see this film on the big screen before it disappears. Is this one of those positive reviews that I get paid for? AHAHAHAHAH, no, I just sincerely think people are missing some really impressive details in this film. I really liked it.
Dearest Correctness Readers:
Due to recent concerns about certain members of our writing team and their certain problem with a certain kick-ass wizard, it behooves us, nay, it behooves ME, your faithful master of the undercard, to write a fair fight for a maligned magician.
Today’s undercard pits two white bearded old men against each other in a battle to the death for the love of humanity. In this corner, over by your start button, (or for those of you more civilized, over by your finder icon in your dock) is Gandalf The Grey/White, Wizard King of the Lollipop Guild and whatnot! In this corner (if I understand the placement of competitors in wrestling or boxing correctly, and therefore somewhere over by your search window, or by a post-it note of who to call when your Dell crashes), is Santa Claus, Jolly Fat Greed Bringer!
Let’s meet our two warriors and see who truly is the beardiest battler!
As you know, I maintain my own twitter feed, @RobbieRobTown, on which I occasionally tweet thoughts of tremendous importance. However, one such incident resulted in an inexplicable hack of my account… I think… Allow me to explain.
I tweeted the following:
“In Green Lantern Rebirth, they chase Parallelogram back into that big lantern on Oprah. Does that mean they have to fear The Colour Purple?”
Hello Dear Readers!
Recently the staff here at the correctness saw an act of supreme nerdiness on display, and instead of just sharing it with you, we took it upon ourselves to go one step geekier, we squared off, and took it to irrational ends!
First, we must give props to this nerdgasmic idea: Musician Michael John Blake recently posted a video in celebration of pi day (3/14, every year…). He has taken the number pi, and assigned numerical values to the white keys, starting with Middle C. He also used a tempo which is roughly half of pi, and did some chording…
I am a gigantic Radiohead fan. If Thom Yorke pooped in a bucket, I would still throw it on the ol’ turntable to hear his experimental smell-sounds. That said, I am a pop musician, and I have all the respect in the world for artists who make me smile and sing along. So, here we go, a track by track review of the new Radiohead album, which I spent assloads of money on, and will be delivered to me on vinyl in, like, 90 years. I’m listening to the WAV files, so I know for sure I’m hearing every detail intended by the boys. You can play the album at home and read my thoughts track by track if you like.
Who could get tired of Valentine’s day? A “holiday” that you don’t get off work, that is so insidiously well crafted that to criticize it in the smallest degree is to broadcast your unfitness for pair bonding? Yes, even hipsters hold their tongues, lest they be considered too bitter to remove their ray bans, push aside their ironic PBR empties, and drop their skinny jeans to make painfully sincere love without even stopping to talk about how ironic the whole thing is! Three to seven minutes without rolling their eyes- unless it’s back in their heads…
I’ve decided to gave you guys hourly, and perhaps even more frequent, peek into my ultra romantic sexy life. You will literally poop cinnamon hearts from the sincere joy I will provide you. I will document my unfathomably saucy Valentine’s day starting now, and close up this shit-window into my shit-apartment life tomorrow night at midnight. It’s shitacular! It will literally be funner than death, and all that such a grammatical abortion implies. From 5:00 today until midnight tomorrow night, buckle up for the most romantic thing you have ever heard, ever.
Recently, as our regulars know, we went to universities all over North America and asked for essays to be entered into a new contest just for surly teen freshmen. Almost no entries were posted, save only this highly offensive submission from “Billy, Age 18″. We weren’t going to share it, but then…
Please be warned, this inexplicable rant contains NSFW language.
Dear Mission Impossible III:
I was going to ask why it was in that scene in the Vatican the one guy shoots a tracking device out of his camera. I was going to ask why he didn’t just toss it into the central square, or drop it off, and then something occurred to me:
The Correctness on Sports:
Contrary to popular belief, we here at The Correctness are huge sports fans. Because of our unerring expertise, we are frequently bombarded with sports related questions. How does one pole vault one’s shotput? Is Hachidan Kiritsu illegal in Anbo Jitsu, just as Will Riker claims it is? What are the consequences of a ground rule double in quidditch?
By the time Scroaty had reached his forties, he had settled into a grim routine. Having finally abandoned a tedious and wholly unsuccessful search for self-redefinition, the kind of search that a person can only attempt in his thirties if he has no family or greater sense of purpose, he had become a woodcutter.
Please stop pretending to understand economics, real jobs, or what a cubicle is like.
Allow me to explain: I’m a musician too. I completely understand where you are coming from. Your socialist views, your bohemian Taoist life choices, your vegan diets. Being an artist full time requires a weird dedication to your craft that sets you apart from other musical hobbyists. Sometimes you have an idea at 3:00 in the morning, and you simply must wake up and record it. Sometimes you practice a new chord you “invented” until your fingers bleed, just because you don’t have callouses in those exact fingering positions. Sometimes you are forced to turn down a teenaged groupie because your only groupies are teenaged, and you realize they are only into you because you rent a bachelor apartment and own a leather jacket that you claim to wear ironically due to your veganism. Then you write a song for the teenaged groupie anyway, which you perform to her on your would-be-ironic second hand chesterfield which you retrieved in your buddy’s truck from Value Village, or possibly the Salvation Army Goodwill store. You work at night, and you can’t get up early because of it. Can’t even make it out to busk at lunch, can you?
I arrived a Lord Vader’s Beverly Hills mansion. LIke most of the homes in the area, Vaderland was a product of years of renovations, and the most recent changes were still in progress.“I’m sorry about the state of the place,” he said as he strode out to meet me from the grand entryway. “I’m using the same contractors as we used on the Death Star, and they tend to run behind schedule.”
Some of our regular readers know that I am a student teacher, and as such I am surrounded by children who have no idea how offensive or hilarious they are. An example:
Kid: I like your toque, Mr. M! Where did you get it?
Me: Thanks, my mom gave it to me.
Kid: What? I thought your mom was dead!
Me: Not to the best of my knowledge.
A friend of mine recently suggested that in order to get my long departed groove back, I should try writing erotic fiction. I tried, kind of, then gave up, but this got me thinking: What the hell kind of thing is arousing anyway? What qualifies as a fantasy? The results of my bold new genre of erotic fantasies are below. Spoiler: Some of these stories are so arousing, there isn’t any sex in them at all.
He paused the DVD, and rose from the couch.
“Are you getting up to make a sandwich?” she asked, coyly.
“Yes, I am,” he replied.
“Then let me be direct. Instead of eating a portion of your sandwich when you bring it over here, leaving us both unsatisfied, I would like for you to prepare two separate sandwiches, and I will eat one of them,” she said.
Tears of joy trickled down his face, and when he returned, he brought two more sodas as well.
She stood in the kitchen, looking out across the expanse of the distant jungle valley as the sun rose. Untold millions of dew drops reflected the red glow of a dawn. Time stopped, and ever so slowly, all of her pain, her hatred, her failures began to evaporate just as the mist in the valley floor did. Through the panoramic windows of her incalculably expensive tropical mountain escape, the light from the sun was reaching her, it felt today, for the first time. Today, there was finally purpose, a reason to go on. For the first time in a decade, she awoke to hope. Hope, a feeling she had come to distrust. Had it not been hope that broken her heart? Had it not been hope that had led her to wait for love to seek her out, and not the other way around?
Time for some Superteam Smackdown, live from the The Correctness’s new Herodome, located in sunny downtown Newville. The tailgates are up, the beer is cold, the snacks are carby, it’s time for some smackdown! We have 8 classic superhero teams fighting it out to see who can claim the title.
This week it’s the X-Men versus the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen! Same but different! Old versus new but written old!
Meme this, suckers! It’s Batman vs. Bacon!
Batman! Scourge of Gotham’s criminals! Batman! Brilliant single-minded vigilante! Batman! Nananananananana, etc! Nothing is more powerful than The Dark Knight! Except for Bacon, you mouth-breathing primitives. BACON!
Hello Fair Readers.
You know, my old name (which is not RobbieRobTown in real life, but actually Rob) is getting kind of boring. So, I thought I’d get myself a new name! I’d like a name that makes me seem super cool, like an actor, or a space dinosaur. I know what you are going to say. You are going to say “Hey, RobbieRobTown, you are an actor, and there is no such thing as space dinosaurs.”. You are wrong. I am an improvisor. Here is a list of suggestions, and some of the rationale for them.
Dear Non-White-Male correctness reader:
You know, we were having a conversation the other day at The Correctness. A grown up, political conversation about how infuriatingly hard it is to insult white males, because, as the entitled culture of authority and power, nothing really hurts our feelings that much. You can call me a cracker, or greymeat, or gringo, or whatever, but it just doesn’t sting like our bleachy-white and bleachy-caustic lexicon of slurs we have for you folks. At the end of the day, we still have all that annoying capital, and equity, and those reassuring smug savings plans, and reusable grocery bags made of organic cotton that required ten times as much water to grow than pesticidey cotton. We’re a hard target!
Dear Supposed RobbieRobTown Fan club:
Some time ago, TBinns became convinced there was a vast, sexy conspiracy surrounding me. As a consequence of his delusion about my “fan club”, TBinns suggested we hold a contest to win a Dream Date with yours truly.
Here are some contest Fun Facts:
Total number of entries: 2.
Total qualifying entries based on rules: 0
Number of times Emma Stone, who I specifically invited to enter the contest, entered the contest: 0
TBinns is a dear friend, and certainly must not have intended to prove how immensely and universally disinteresting I am to women, gay men, and the complexly transgendered.
So, I was driving into my parking spot at my condo in my old car, a shabby Cavalier dubbed by my friend Marc to be “Lady Cavalieria”. Its real name was “American Shitbox Moneypit of Shit”. My used Honda Accord would be embarrassed of my old car.
My parking space has a concrete barrier wall, about 2 feet high on the North and East corners. It also has all the cigarette butts. It is perfect for sitting on, littering near, sitting on litter, etc.
Good news, Correctness readers! We have managed to find an excerpt for the script for part 3 of the Dark Betty Saga: Crisis in Infinite Riverdales, due for Christmas. We had a 45 minute argument in our office about who wrote this script- the names have been surreptitiously removed from the document. What do you guys think? Morrison? Miller? Moore? Dave thought Claremont, at this point, given the X-Men forever storyline, I tend to agree. Possible spoiler alert: It looks like this series will bring the Dark Betty story cycle to its conclusion.
…The internet is no place for advertising. It is an immense public forum that runs on goodwill and charitable government servers, and rainbow kisses. I would be immensely, immensely disturbed if anyone were to mention that RobbieRobTown has a musical going up at the Edmonton Fringe Festival. Why would you bother to tell me that he has written all the music, or that he is starring in the show? That sort of corporate pandering is deplorable, gentlemen. We have all had enough quirky puppet musicals with banjos. The Muppets got there first, and Jim Henson controls the copyright to all things fabric with banjos…
“One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi.”
Arnold counted again, carefully, one every second.
Dear Correctness Readers:
A lot of people ask us how we here at The Correctness can generate so much fresh content, ensuring that so much of our written effort is largely ignored by the people we hope read our articles, like Henry Kissinger or Emma Stone. “How can you generate so much fresh, funny content?” those people ask us, redundantly, “That could be enjoyed by Henry Kissinger for example, or Emma Stone, perhaps?” they continue, reiteratively.
Well, the secret to our success, apart from my stunning good looks, is filler.
The Correctness Guide to Body Disposal:
So, you’ve murdered someone! You’ve had one of those arguments with, for the sake of this article, a smallish pig. Perhaps your pig was treacherous, manipulative or downright cruel. Maybe your pig was abusive. Maybe you and your pig couldn’t sort out who the real father of your piglets was. Maybe your pig was a national security threat, and even if it wasn’t, you’d best start telling yourself that. In any case, things got a little heated, words were spoken, it all got out of hand, and now you have about 160 pounds of pork to dispose of, and right quickly at that. Maybe your pig weighed a bit more or less, but he or she had it coming.
At 22 years old, Emily was hardly the youngest housewife in West Cloverdale. Indeed, she like so many other attractive young women had carefully played by the rules, attracted themselves a husband, and been swept away to the suburbs.
Though not the youngest, Emily had one thing going for her- one thing, set aside a prizewinning pair of legs from a darker period of her life when she danced naked for beatniks. The “Miss Rack 1958″ contest had been a battle hard won for her- No, what Emily had going for her was that she was smart as a whip.
Hai Correctness Readers!
LOLsies! Some of you guys sure seem to be in a real pickle about my emotional state! Golly wonkers, it sure is nice that you are all so concerned about my lovemeter readings, but I’m as pleased as a fry in a fish hatchery these days, I assure you!
Just in case, I’ve collected a whole bunch of adorable images, and I’ve written some wholesome commentary for each one! Nothing political here, just good old fashioned warm feelings in your tummies.
A basket of puppies! If they were a basket of apples, I’d pick them for a pie- OF KISSES! Delightful.
You have been asking, you have been waiting, you are a fictional construct I am using to build tension. Finally, what “you” wanted is here: Another correctness.com Awesome Undercard event to tide you over until the next full on smackdown series.
In this match-up, it’s every bear for himself- Or, every bear for himself and his or her family, cousins, distant relations, or loosely knit community! And if that wasn’t enough, they are facing off against me, and my unfathomable ennui! That’s right, it’s Care Bears vs. Gummi Bears vs. Berenstain bears, vs. My Increasing Disillusionment.
By way of introduction, my name is RobbieRobTown. Okay, actually, my screen name is RobbieRobTown, but my actual name is Handsome McSwashbuckley, or possibly Spacey McDinosaur. You can request my real name at your convenience, I’m just not posting it here, that would just be stupid- I’m a student teacher for God’s sake, so I really don’t want my adorable grade 1 kids next semester looking up my last name on the intertubes and seeing the kinds of things that either A) I say in the name of satire, or B) people say about me in the name of internet anonymity.
Dear Municipal Government:
Thank you for the letter you sent me from the Subdivision and Development Appeal Board. I received your letter regarding a meeting on April 16th. I see the letter is dated April 1st, and you will be glad to know I received it on June 17th.
In any case, despite having missed the meeting which you have scheduled for 2 months ago, I thought that it would be advisable to share my opinion. I will forward this letter to you in 2 months, in deference to the time that your process seems to take. I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you. I like your folksy style.
Dear Correctness Readers:
We get it, you don’t always have time for the full impact of our 3000 word rambles, especially when it’s just a poop joke. Consequently, I have been publishing microfiction via twitter. Here are eleven of them, in no particular order:
1. Predicated entirely on her familiarity with Jane Austen, Eloise married the first male homeowner who stumbled into her punji stick pit.
2. Loneliness consumed him as he looked across the barren, nuclear wasteland and realized he was, almost certainly, the last ventriloquist.
Dear Correctness Readers: Here is a quote from our Provincial Culture Minister Lindsay Blackett who is attending the internationally important Banff Television Festival. “I sit here as a government representative for film and television in the province of Alberta, and I look at what we produce, and if we’re honest with ourselves … I look [...]
List of Demands: Microsoft Office Word 2007 for PC
Dear Microsoft Office Team:
I have used your product for Mac extensively, and it works fine. However, your product for the PC world, which as I understand it, is 95% of your market share, is a deplorable prison rape of a program. It is worse than a searing hot knife up the urethra. Microsoft Office Word 2007 for PC is worse than having a tiger swipe out your eyes, and then piss in your eye sockets, marking your skull as territory with its feline reek. It is worse than eating a bowl of tapioca pudding, only to discover both that it was actually a bowl of silverfish, and that you are made of wool. Your product is worse than being bound naked with duct tape to a steel folding chair, and being forced to pay an exorbitant mandatory admission fee to watch a live gang bang of Glenn Beck, who then, mid blow, starts delivering an angry TED talk about his feelings on something about which he is ill informed, like particle physics, US politics, or reality. It is worse than the Batman and Robin film. I do not enjoy your product.
No further pleasantries. This is a list of demands:
Not every time, not even most times, but today, it was I who farted in the elevator.
I took it down to the lobby, I waited, I farted, I got out, and I laughed as you all rode up to the tenth floor in my lingering stenchcloud of bowelhate. All seven of you, in my deep sea of reek.
Haiku Cycle Requiem for the Indicator Light
The dusty stick on
the left of your steering wheel
is your signal light.
You won’t shoulder check
So signaling is the least,
THE LEAST, you can do.
Click. How hard is that?
Click. There, I did it again.
Click. See how easy?
Recently due to a scheduling snafu, I missed out on an opportunity to give a public reading of the most hateful literature I could find. First, I recommend if you are in the Vancouver area you check out the “Say Wha?” show on June 8th, but in the meantime, I have located the motherload: The immensely compelling world of celebrity tweets, and specifically the genre-defining work of Justin Bieber.
June 15 is “I LIEK CHOCOLATE MILK!” day.
ON JuNe 15th everybOdy on the FUcking planet is going to change their facebook status to say “I LIEK CHOCOLATE MILK!”. because I goddamn said so.
Recently, RobbieRobTown made a grant application to the Canadian Government for new works featuring “Stories of our Heritage”. Rob felt that he should be able to include elements of his favourite themes in a historical context. He was incorrect in that regard. The grant application was rejected summarily.
A Prairie Tale
Cornelia Perseverance Downing threw the door of the outhouse wide, and looked out across a wild and ceaseless prairie. The young barley was just now high enough to be tousled by the same late spring winds which tugged at Cornelia’s skirts. She hastened to readjust her Victorian garb. Green and naked, the barley wore no skirts, and would have laughed at Cornelia’s fussing, had it the voice to do so. “Ha!”, the barley would have said. “Haha to your manifold skirts!”
SWM seeks SF from space. Superheroes and Ninjas also welcome, or anyone who moves like a dancer in a slow motion hail of bullets/lasers. Ideally you are human, but if you are an alien in human form and would be willing to slum it with an earthling that would be good too. Aliens particularly welcome if you were planning an invasion of earth, but fall in love with me because “you never thought you could feel this way before” and prevent the invasion force from destroying my backwater meaningless planet. Perhaps you were confused and aroused by the sensations provided to you by your new carbon based form? Other aliens welcome: Slave women from planets with nebulous/gaseous thought-entity overlords- I will be more than happy to tell you the answer to the eternal question “what is this thing called love?”. Most non-humans from Original Series Star Trek welcome, but aliens from the rest of the Star Trek franchise are almost unanimously ugly.
Monthly Horoscopes For May 2010
Looking for the answers? Well they are here! Vague as ever, yet somehow magically tailored for you and your swollen nuts! The month of May will be tricky for many signs in the Zodiac, because even if you are a girl, you will have swollen nuts. Please enjoy our prognostications, and remember: If you heard it on the internet, it’s probably true.
All I was trying to do was buy a superhero T Shirt at a comic book convention. Let me recap our conversation for you:
You: (plausibly friendly) Does anyone need a hand with anything?
Me: Yes, actually, I could use a hand. I don’t suppose you have any shirts in a size small?
You: (turning slightly) No Man, we never do, we just never – not at the conventions.
Me: Oh. I see. But you have an online store, is that right?
You: (getting douchey) Yeah, but you’ll never bother me there.
Me: I beg your Pardon?
You: (douchier still) I said you’re never gonna bother me there Man.
Me: I see…
You: (getting your shovel) Yeah, cause in the last 5 years I have had, like, 2 orders for size small stuff.
Me: Look, it’s okay, I’ll move on…
You (digging a trench for the battle): Yeah, and you know what’s wrong with you small people?
Smackdown: AWESOME UNDERCARD 2: Aquaman vs. Robin vs. Goats on Bicycles
Since our much criticized elimination of Robin and Aquaman from our Superhero Smackdown, our fans (okay, one fan) have been calling out in eerie unison: “Bring back Aquaman and Robin!”. You have climbed the steps of Mt. Seleyah, you have smelled the smell of salmon on your hands, you have been, and ever shall be their friend. Well, your prayers have been answered, because as the still unmarried 1/3 of The Correctness, I alone have the time available to pander to our superfans* (*fan). I have been a little busy fellating donkeys to think the really deep thoughts, but we’re not here to talk about what I did to which species, or who saw what and told which ladies, sealing my celibate fate.
Good news everyone! We have excerpts from the 2009 guidebook to Middle Earth!
Staying in the Barrow Downs:
Accommodations are available, but dusty at best. If your room has a barrow wight, you’ll want to put in a call to Tom Bombadil, his songs are the strongest.
Dear Linkedin: First off, congratulations, it’s “open Letter” week here at The Correctness. Way to make the rant list! Now then: I understand you are a social networking site of some kind. I understand that such things are important. People need them for things and stuff, and to date businesses and poke plenty of fish. [...]
We here at The Correctness have listened to our fans, and we know we couldn’t design a superhero or supervillain smackdown to please everyone. In fact, we couldn’t design an article to please everyone, and I particularly can’t please anyone with anything for any reason. Mind you, somebody decided to make the film “Extreme Ops”, so I don’t know how any human could be pleased with that either.
Dear Local Restaurant/Lounge: I drove past your street sign the other day, its flourescent letters still arranged in their original message- a tantalizing offering to the urban teens with time to spare. How many words contain the necessary letters for “Ass Rods on Your Nuts”, I wonder? In any case, your sign, confoundingly, said the [...]
Recently, the provincial government announced plans to increase university tuitions by 1.5%. I am a Canadian, and in a medium-expensive program so 1.5% of my total annual tuition is $90. Appalled by the government’s fascistic money-grab, Our Student’s Union recommended all of us students take a weekend out of our lives, go away from homework [...]
(Note: This is a repost of the original).
Fot the greatest poet of all time, William Carlos Williams.
This is just to say:
I have responded
to your note
And you hoped,
that I replied
I was on
whilst taking a dump.
Far from being a Hallmark holiday, or relating to the death of some guy by some tigers or something, Valentine’s Day has a noble history.
Deep in the Mines of Moria, during the splendour of the Second Age, The dwarves carved out enough mithril to forge the Soup Tin of Gor Daleth. This Soup Tin, it was said, when soup was pored forth from it, caused an enchantment. The drinker of the soup would be overcome by a warm fuzzy feeling, such that he might feel a compulsion to make a home with a fair maiden, and begin a family.
Starting Monday, The Correctness will bring you 7 days of brief posts on how much I hate Valentine’s day.
Look forward to such comments as “Commercialism aside, Valentine’s Day also sucks because love does not exist”.
Zing! Pow! Stay Tuned!
(Note: This is a repost of the original.)
Oh hey guys.
I was just thinking, you know what would be sweet?
How about instead of 5 blades that dull as soon as I glance at them, you concentrate on providing me 1 blade that is sharp? Or, how about instead of a lubricating strip, you provide me one blade that stays sharp? Or how about instead of a special vibrating handle, you manufacture a single blade that stays sharp?
(Note: This is a repost of the original)
Dear Jessica 6:
As the unmarried 1/3 of The Correctness, I am still seeking a Hot Spacewife to get Spacemarried to. I would also approve of a Vampirewife, or a FantasyFictionwife, but I’m mostly looking for a Hot Spacewife. Probably not a superhero wife, they always seem a bit conflicted.
While I know that you are just a character in a movie, and in real life you are Jenny Agutter, and you have had a long career as a respected professional actor, and you are in your fifties (not that 25 years is insurmountable), I would like to leave that aside for a moment.
Here at the Correctness, we are concerned about the recent IKEA ad campaigns, narrated by David Hyde Pierce, in which domestic horrors are narrowly avoided with the thin, calming veneer of Ikea home furnishings. What surprised us even more were some of the rejected scripts.
Dear Gibson Guitars:
… have another question for you Gibson: What happened to being able to hear the G string? Did the mid range suddenly go out of fashion? I ask because I sometimes play chords that use the G string- in fact, I’m going to say 90% of the time…