So You Think You Can Dance with the Stars of Norwegian Black Metal

                                
       If you're familiar with Norwegian Black Metal and some of its most lovable misfits then you knew it was only a matter of time before they all got together and starred in a screwball comedy or reality show of some sort, and if you're like me you were hoping against hope that they would somehow find a way of reanimating the dead ones so that they could truly all be united as one happy, incorrigible family again. Well I am proud to announce that that day has finally come.
       I understand that some of you may doubt my ability to raise the dead. I'm going to have to ask those individuals to a) try a little thing called suspension of belief and b) not be such insufferable little twats. Think you can manage? Good. Now if you are at all NBM savvy then you have heard of Euronymous. You've seen him on the cover of Tiger Beat and you've wanted to be just like him and wished you had his hair. But if you don't know about him and are too lazy to click on the link then you can just go and shit the bed because I'm not here to write a biography. In fact do me a favor and don't read the rest of this because you are completely unworthy and Euronymous would agree. So would Dead and Count Grishnackh, or anyone else from the seminal NBM band Mayhem. Euronymous started Mayhem in 1984, and had another dubious distinction of being the owner of Helvete (Norwegian for "Hell"), a record store that became the focal point of the scene. He also had a label called Deathlike Silence Productions which recorded mostly chillwave.

      Euronymous was not a very nice guy. His mother has reported that even in his early teens he would deliberately pee in the tub while she was bathing him. He was also a practitioner of theistic Satanism and a proponent of communism, not in the idealistic, theoretical sense, but in the sense of Stalinist communism, state terrorism and totalitarian rule, you get the idea. It is thought that he believed in these things because he was clinically fucktarded. Dead, on the other hand, was a more complicated figure. He was not so much mad as he was sad--so much so, in fact, that on April 8, 1991 at the ripe old age of twenty-two he killed himself by both slitting his wrists and blowing his brains out for good measure. Unfortunately for Dead's corpse it was discovered by Euronymous, who proceeded to do fucked up shit with it and took pictures, one of which would later become the cover of a Mayhem record. Euronymous also made necklaces out of fragments from Dead's skull and sent them to people he thought were cool. Pol Pot never received his, though.

 Interviewer: "What is so solid with evilness?"

Euronymous: "What is so solid about goodness then? It's just the way it is. I neither can nor will define it. It is basically a hate to humankind. I have no friends, just the guys I am allied with. If my girlfriend dies I won't cry, I will misuse the corpse."

- - - - - - - - - - 

Dead: "I am not a human being. This is just a dream, and soon I will awake. It was too cold and the blood kept coagulating all the time."

       But the most complicated of the three was probably Count Grishnackh. I would characterize Count Grishnackh as both mad and sad, and unlike the other two he was not so much into evil as he was into Germanic neopaganism and being racist. He was sad (and mad) because the Christians had beat his pagan ancestors in a game of tug of war several centuries ago, adding insult to injury by pulling them right into some mud, and they were all wearing white because it was after Easter. And also the Christians may have desecrated some of their graves, though let's keep in mind that this was hundreds of years ago, but the Count was still ripshit pissed about it so he decided to burn some churches, some very old churches that were considered national treasures, and then everyone thought he was hardcore like when Fonzie jumped the shark.

       The problem was that he was now considered to be even more hardcore than Euronymous, who had previously been considered the most hardcore kid on the block. Now there was this new kid on the block who was stealing his thunder. It didn't sit very well. And what was more, this new kid didn't even love Satan, and he didn't even have the decency to espouse Stalinist communism. At the same time the Count and his friends were getting fed up with Euronymous, because every time they burned a church he would try to act like he was all in on it and stuff, even though he so completely wasn't. Then one day it got back to the Count that Euronymous was going to kill him. So the Count decided to pay Euronymous a visit and killed him instead.

"I waited to see if he would attack me again, but he just went past me and tried to kick me, and then I just stabbed him in the head."

       Before meeting his end, Euronymous ran down the halls ringing his neighbors' doorbells, and the neighbors reported high-pitched screams which they believed to be a woman's. Not a very metal way to go. If you're going to go ahead and name yourself after a demon, you might want to go ahead and not die like a little titty-baby, especially when your opponent has decided to name himself after a goddamned orc. I think even the most casual Dungeons & Dragons player could tell you that a demon beats an orc. You have pretty much failed your whole species on this one, Euro.

Son, I am disappoint

       Well it turned out that the orc was actually named Varg Vikernes, and Varg was put on trial for the murder of Oystein Aarseth, which was the actual name of the demon. It turned out they were just two misguided young men, as in earthlings of Earth with no Middle- in front of it. And Varg was sentenced to 21 years, for the murder and a few of the church burnings, but he was released after 15.
       And Dead, despite his statement to the contrary, was an earthling as well. He was Per Yngve Ohlin, and he was just as human as any of us. He just didn't want to be, and on some level I understand. I'm not sure his explanation that the world was not evil enough for him was actually the truth, and I'm not suggesting that he was not evil enough for the world or something gay like that. I just think that in his twenty-two years he never got a chance to look at the world rightly, and I think that's a tragedy, because I believe that he could have.

Not so racist when it's Chad Ochocinco, are you, Varg?

       I've never believed heavy metal was scourge, in the United States or elsewhere, and after learning about Norwegian Black Metal I am even more convinced that it isn't a scourge, because it is nothing more than an allergic reaction to societal norms which can seem pretty oppressive, and often times really are. And I also don't think it's a scourge because it provides a vital catharsis to a large number of people, and yes a few people have killed themselves and others while listening to it, but it has probably saved more lives than it has taken. I seriously might not have made it through middle school without Alice in Chains, and I know that's anecdotal evidence, but I know there are plenty of other people out there who had a band like that, a band which was considered to be unsavory at the time but may have literally saved their lives. Another was Guns N' Roses. Now these bands are almost considered classic rock. I have actually heard Guns N' Roses on the classic rock station here. That's fucking crazy. But it also makes sense.
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Don't Poop December!

       

       As most of you probably know, it is Don't Poop December. This is gonna be way more challenging than No Shave November, people, so I hope everybody has their game faces on. Though it's only day seven now I already have had moments where I really, really wanted to quit, like bad, but I have managed to persevere by listening to motivational tapes and doing plenty of handstands. I am not about to let my selfish desire to shit get in the way of a good cause, and let's not forget why we're doing this thing. We're doing this for the midgets. We feel it should be illegal for a normal-sized person to fart in an elevator while a midget is present. This has been an ongoing and well-publicized problem for years. We are all aware of it, but too many of us are willing to turn a blind eye, and too many are unwilling to close the brown eye. So if they can still fart, we are not going to poop.

       We are totally against the tossing of midgets as well. 

       Contrary to popular belief, not pooping for extended periods of time is quite healthy, and may even cause you to become an American icon. It is widely suspected that John Wayne participated in his own Don't Poop December throughout much of the 70's, which could be why he was able to function for so many years after having one of his lungs removed. He smoked cigars after that, too, and it didn't even faze him until he died. 

       

       Of course, a shit-free decade would be the stuff of legend, an almost superhuman feat, but then again, that's exactly what John Wayne was. He was the stuff of legend, an almost superhuman feat. So that's exactly what he did, though actually there was no autopsy done so we can never be sure, and regardless you shouldn't buy any colon cleansing product advertised on television, and if you do you shouldn't be surprised when the results you see include massive anal hemorrhaging. But I for one believe he really did it, and it may have been why he was always feeling the need to poop out of his mouth with shit such as this:

What I think the Duke was trying to say is "chalk it up to the game."

       That may have been exactly how it went down, because I wasn't actually there, but I have my doubts, mostly because the very concept of land possession was invented by white people, and by the way, when you think about it, it's a pretty retarded concept. The idea that a forest or a stream or a mountain or a field could be the property of some bipedal ape such as John Wayne or perhaps Rush Limbaugh seems pretty ridiculous when you think it through. It should actually be the other way around, because the truth is that we are more or less property of the land. We think we can dominate nature and section it off into neat compartments and bend it toward our own unnatural desires, but the truth is that nature ultimately dominates us and could straight own any or all of us at any given time. Has anyone seen a live dinosaur recently?
       Of course we do have the ability to shield ourselves from nature somewhat and to fuck with nature and ultimately kill things, including other humans, though we hope if that happens it's the ones we don't care about, like in the case of the Bhopal disaster. We hope it's the two-dimensional people who live far away in a country so impoverished we can't even imagine it so it doesn't seem real, the people who used to be made of paper and are now made of pixels, but were never flesh and bone. They are not our kin and they ultimately don't matter. And I imagine if John Wayne were still alive when the Bhopal disaster occurred he would probably have said something to the effect of "chalk it up to the game," or at least thought it.
       So maybe we shouldn't be like John Wayne after all. Maybe instead of trying to master our environment we should learn to coexist with it. I definitely don't think we should celebrate genocide. Columbus didn't fly over here on his fleet of imperial turkeys just to have us do that.
       But still, no pooping until January 1st. For the midgets.

       

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Search Engine Sluts - One Man's Choice to Take the High Road and Lady Gaga UFC Knockouts

        Recently it has come to my attention that search engine sluts are on the loose, so it might be a good time to shelter thy kin, and anything else with genitals, for that matter, because from what I understand they are all over the wonderwebs, sort of like pr0n, and are slowly but surely turning them into webs of confusion and sadness. Let me explain.
       I have spent the last one and a half nights trying to understand keyword research, only to find out that it is way too involved for me to bother understanding completely and would take months of dedication to effectively use, and also that every site related to the subject was created by some gimmicky marketing fuckwad who uses annoying little tricks to try and keep you reading and maybe purchase his bullshit product which is available elsewhere for free. I think they serve a valid purpose, but I don't have a business and I am not trying to corner some very specific market; I am merely trying to be funny in my spare time and that hardly justifies months of research, especially when I could be doing something I enjoy, like writing. But the thing is, I want a lot more out of this than amusing myself and a few of my friends. Currently about 10% of my readership is represented by me, and I am not okay with that. By no means am I satisfied with that, and that is why I was pondering becoming a search engine slut, so that my blog would be the first thing to come up if you google the word labradoodle or something, because what I truly want in life is to be immensely famous, like Kat Von D, and frankly, I am surprised it hasn't happened for me yet. And saddened.

        I think I have some insight into why I might want that so bad. It's because deep down I am really scared of dying, though I would like to think otherwise, and through fame I could further convince myself of the illusion that I am some sort of immortal and nothing could ever kill me, not even a train. I think I've suspected for awhile now that death fear was a huge part of what drove myself and others, but I recently saw a documentary on the subject and after 3 or 4 days of my mind literally being trapped in a bottle because of the profound mindfuckery said film presented, I feel I am finally starting to realize how deep the reaches of death fear really could be. I know I'm digressing but I think it's an important film and worth plugging. Watch it.
      And of course another reason would be to have lots and lots of sex.
      But I will not be getting there via shameless self-promotion. I was thinking that maybe I should take that route, but I have changed my mind. That's not who I am. Maybe I should try being super-diligent or something. Or maybe I should just become a serial killer.

LABRADOODLE    LABRADOODLE    LABRADOODLE    LABRADOODLE    LABRADOODLE 

      Does anyone out there know how you do this shit? Tweet

Election Day!

       As you all know, Election Day is coming up soon, and I am super-psyched about voting. I am just going to waltz right in there, slap down my ID, and vote, and then I will promptly register to make my vote "official." That's one of the reasons I'm writing this, to remind you all to register on your way out of the voting place on Election Day. Otherwise, people, YOUR VOTE WILL NOT COUNT. Now, I don't know about you, but I will be voting across the board for the person who is favored to lose, because I believe in the enduring value of a good underdog story. This is something I will address in my next entry, "The Enduring Value of a Good Underdog Story."
       I'm not really going to do that, of course. There's no way I'm going to spend that much time researching to find out where every candidate stands in the polls, so more than likely I will just be wingin' it on a few. And I'm gonna skip the propositions entirely, unless there is some sort of proposition to do away with propositions. Let's face it, they tend to be pretty long-winded, and I believe that some of them even require a short answer. And I don't have time for that kind of malarkey. So with that said I would like to propose a toast, to reading less and to a more streamlined voting system.
      To be honest with you, I don't know shit from Shinola about anyone I am supposed to be voting about, or any of the candidates for anything in the entire America, for that matter, with the exception of one, of course, and I'm talking about the witch lady. I predict she will win her Senatorcy in a ginormous landslide with the help of her minions and Satan. In the meantime she will probably continue to say whatever insane shit pops into her witchy little head, and she will continue being highly doable in spite of all this.

"From there they may go on to attend the University of Buttfucking."

      

       If I'm not mistaken there are also a number of issues that people are concerned with. I don't know what they actually are, but I certainly hope that education isn't one of them, because I turned out just fine and I never learned to count. To me that proves that education doesn't matter. What matters is money, and I think that will be key this election, and I want to say that on the issue of money I am for it. I'm just gonna need somebody to count mine for me.

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The 10 Greatest YouTube Videos OF ALL TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

        I have noticed that when you put "OF ALL TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" at then end of something it tends to get people's attention, and if I haven't mentioned it yet I am an attention whore and that is the reason for this blog. And that is the reason I am going to post some of my favorite YouTube videos, and I certainly hope that you enjoy them OF ALL TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

10) Afro Ninja - This video has become the apotheosis of fail turned to win, apotheosis of course meaning the anus of a hippopotamus. Fail turned to win is also sometimes referred to as epic fail, but if you don't know that you are probably so old that you step on your scrotum. Suffice it to say the man has a fucking movie coming out because of this, and also because of his USI. After all, his success was unintentional and when you get right down to it he is still made up mostly of fail.




9) Insane Clown Posse - Miracles - Another shining example of epic failure. If you are under the impression that ICP is in any way shape or form intentional win then you, sir, are and idiot :) and it is unlikely that you can decipher these strange symbols I type. It's okay though because Waffle House has pictures on their menus.



8) Eat Da Poo Poo -The first time I saw this I laughed so hard I literally died. The obvious observation here is that he ought to worry less about those who partake of the forbidden fruit of homosex and more about his own obsession with all things scatological, and the fact that his whole routine is shamelessly derivative of Bill Cosby's material, particularly a bit he did back in the 80's on Bill Cosby: Himself, proof here.



7) Shoes - I like this video because it is a remarkably accurate portrayal of wimmins and their foolish ways, though some may call me a "stupid boy" for that. If you like The Kids in the Hall, first of all, congrats, you are not completely worthless like I thought, and secondly, you will probably like this, but also there is probably a very good chance you have already seen this.



6) Bed Intruder Song - It was somewhat painful for me to rate this above "Shoes" but the fact of the matter is that I have watched this more times in the past couple of months than I have watched "Shoes" in the last six or however many years. This video is like crack. But don't bother watching after the 1:15 mark.



 5) Star Trek + Nine Inch Nails = Closer - This is the best fanvid of all time, period. The editing is masterful and tells a guided tour de force of a story. There is tension and drama and a spectacular climax. I am not kidding when I say that I consider this high art.



4) Double Rainbow - If Falkor the luckdragon were turned into a fat Pacific Islander who put too much LSD on his Spam sandwich, this is what would happen.



3) Charlie the Unicorn - I used to work at a school, and the middle school kids would quote this constantly. They were dismayed when one day I revealed that I had seen the video, too. It became a little less cool after that, I think, and I think I was glad about that. Some of the kids, particularly the ones who were most concerned with being "cool", I genuinely loathed. I wished I could take them all to a "pizza party" out in the woods and tell them that they would need tickets to play the video games. So I would give them all 10 tickets and when we got there I would make them get out, and I would say "sorry, you need 11 tickets to live." Then I would show them what the socks full of quarters were really for.



2) George Washington - You thought you knew...you have NO IDEA



1) Candy Pants - So you don't own a piano key scarf and you will probably never harpoon the kind of mammals that Lionel gets on the reg, because the practice is now against international law, but dammit, with a lot of practice, you may become qualified to polish his rings--someday.

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Image Macros

 
        Oh, hi there. Welcome to my happy hole. That's what I call my blog silly. Why, what did you think I meant? Oh my dear heavens no, you are such a silly goose. No. I call that my passion pit.
        Today we are going to talk about image macros, but knowing you you are far too lazy and unattractive to bother clicking on the link, so I'll just tell you it's a picture with superimposed text, i.e. what you are looking at, you disgusting, indolent swine.
        Some things that are funny today will not be funny, say, a hundred years from now. I predict that in a hundred years the cast of Jersey Shore will be the subject of anthropological study, so Snooki and her gaper will have become academic and thus completely unfunny. I also predict that death will no longer be funny because they will be able to store people's souls on flash drives and we will all be effectively immortal. But image macros will never stop being funny, ever. And until they figure out this whole soul storage deal we will all be sent straight to Hell, where we will be forced to watch King of Queens.
        As the article you didn't bother to read insinuated, image macros have been around for over 9000 years. Things like the Hindenburg disaster and Idi Amin happened at least 100 years ago, and would be lucky to still be funny a decade from now. On second thought Idi Amin will always be funny. Especially if they start making image macros of him.

        Once when I was trapped in a Chilean mine for 69 days I had a lot of time to reflect on shit, and that was when it occurred to me that image macros are a form of narrative. They tell a story, and the possibilities are endless as to what kind of story they will tell. Often the story is completely different from what the picture alone says. For example, without the text this picture would probably say to you something to the effect of, "Hi, my name is Relapse-a-Trey. I just played the same few notes for 73 hours straight and I gotta tell ya I am bored as fucking tits up here!"

Relapse-a-Trey. If you get this I just lost a lot of respect for you

        But when it is transmogrified into a macro we learn that the little ginger boy in the picture has just had a mind-bottling orgasm, probably brought on by the sheer virtuosity of his own sucking, and it turns out to be a happy story rather than a sad or at least frustrating one.
        I would say that image macros are probably my favorite thing ever, other than sex, ninjas, and ninja pornography, and this one time at Great Woods when they played a sixty-minute "Runaway Jim" with "Twist" teases at the thirty-eight-minute mark. I'm not gonna lie and say I don't have some Phish shows on my iPod, but I also have DeBarge so so much for my credibility. Buenos dias putas. Merci beaucoup.

        
        
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Your Band Sucks

        A long time ago, when the internet was little more than four or five nerds exchanging hentai and yelling at eachother in leetspeak, there was a site called Something Awful. There is still a site called that but I am talking about long ago, back when myspace was the shit, back when Goatse was shocking, back when I had a soul patch, you get the idea. It was around that time that a great man named Dr. David Thorpe embarked on a mission to be the biggest dickhead in all of music criticism, a maneuver roughly equivalent in difficulty to pogoing on a frozen corpse to the top of Mount Everest. So he began writing a column for Something Awful called Your Band Sucks--and by God, he pulled it off.

        Today I am going to attempt to write a Your Band Sucks article, because the world hasn't seen one since 2007, and I think we're long overdue. Thorpe seems to have been busy doing markedly less amusing work for the Boston Phoenix, but I can forgive him for that. I presume he's getting paid, and I presume he's getting laid, and he certainly wasn't doing either of those when he was writing for Something Awful. Anyway, I appreciate the opportunity I have given myself and I will do my best.

        I think I'll start with Linkin Park, because I just saw an article about them that was totally surreal. In it, the author compares their new album to Radiohead's Kid A. I haven't heard the new Linkin Park album, of course, but guess what, it isn't comparable. It's comparable to a lot of things, I'm sure. Ulcerative colitis comes to mind. And I don't need to hear it to know that because it's fucking Linkin Park, and they suck with the force of one hundred Paris Hiltons. They could suck the oceans dry and just keep right on sucking. Ironically their suckiness is shimmering and eternal.
        Some of you probably hold the belief that they do not suck and are in fact good. If that is the case, then it is of the utmost importance that you read the rest of this and take it to heart, because the future of our civilization might hang in the balance. I have good reason to believe that the continued popularity of bands such as Linkin Park could very well cause God to pwn us all with an asteroid the size of Delaware. So please take heed of this.

       Let me give you a play by play of a typical Linkin Park song. The one dipshit begins singing in this soft, ghostly voice, sounding all melancholy and distant, and then the other dipshit begins screaming the chorus, sounding like Daffy Duck being castrated. And there are probably some shitty Casio bleep-beep-boops in there somewhere. Their music is targeted at inarticulate, angst-ridden 13-year-olds who are dumb enough to believe that intentional misspelling = cleverness, and primitive histrionics = depth of emotion.

        If Linkin Park would in some way wink at rest of us, if they would concede to us using words adolescents don't know that they are basically the Degrassi: The Next Generation of bands, then I might believe they had one iota of intelligence. But since they so clearly take themselves seriously and believe they have actual merit, I am forced to conclude that they suffer from severe fucktardation, also known as buttersnap shitfuckery of the mind. And I suspect that the Asian one also has Down's.

        Wow, that was easy, but then again that band is so terrible that their suckiness is practically scientific fact. I need a little more of a challenge now. I think my next move will be to go after those darlings of pseudo-intellectuals, quasi-hipsters, people who would like to be "artsy" but have no artistic talent, yuppie twats, and members of the cast of Friends, who obviously encompass all of those qualities. I am talking of course about the Counting Crows. Let me start off by confessing that for two weeks when I was thirteen I thought they were the shit. Perhaps it was because Adam Duritz looks exactly like Junior Gorg from Fraggle Rock, and I used to love that show, but I think it had more to do with the fact that I was a stupid little faggot.

        The biggest problem with Adam Duritz is that he tries way too fucking hard. Ok dude, we get that you are a hopeless romantic. We get that you have wanted to be famous really badly. Stop caterwauling and flailing about like you're at fucking Jesus Camp. And take off that weave while you're at it you fake ass motherfucker. I honestly think that the band was just a plot hatched by Duritz for the cynical purpose of fucking actresses. Well it worked you asshole. And the entire Western World is a little bit dumber for it.

        Well that shit was even easier than the last one. I was supposed to be challenging myself but it seems that's going to be harder than I thought. Maybe next time I'll go after a band I like. On second thought that would make me as lacking in integrity as Adam fucking Duritz. Peace I'm out. 

"You are the pineapple of my head, you are my artificial dreads"

 
               
           

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Internet Memes

        Hi, and welcome back to Appellate Sky, the blog that may very well save the entire blogosphere from a gruesome death at the hands of the Blogradytes. You're welcome bitches. You might notice that since my last post I have changed templates, like a boss, for that is the manner in which I do most everything. Do not be alarmed. It's still the same blog it was when I started it 8 days ago. I wouldn't have been able to keep the six of you (two of which are my immediate family) reading this long if I kept changing it around all higgledy-piggledy, or if I was throwing in gimmicks all jumbledy-wumbledy.
        Many of you have, in my imagination, asked what inspired me to start a blog in the first place. Some have speculated that I have a political agenda. Nothing could be further from the truth. I have no interest in putting my political leanings on the innuhnet, and furthermore I'll have you know that who I vote for IS NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS, though I have no valid reason for this other than I like yelling.
        I do, however, have and interest in space aliens, and I believe that when the floods of 2012 come they will first of all be floods of Nantucket Nectar, which won't be so bad, and secondly I believe they will be alien-induced. I don't really feel like I owe you an explanation for this.

   Just know that the leader of the space invaders will be OBABO, PRESISERP OF UNITINU, for the aliens will have a language which is heavy on palindromes. He will look like this, and he will be a cool-ass motherfucker.

OBABO, PRESISERP OF UNITINU

        OBABO will be copied and pasted all over the hypernets until he becomes an intranerdz meme. The first thing you need to know about memes is that they rhyme with teams, not games or gems. The term was coined by a scientist (the kind that be lyin', and gettin' me pissed) named Richard Dawkins in the 70's. Dawkins is best known for penning perhaps the greatest intellectual wank-fest of the last decade, The God Delusion, but it is worth noting that he has also done legitimate and respected work in the field of science.

Hello, I am so smart that I am legally retarded.

        Memes are units of cultural information, such as melodies or catch-phrases, which according to meme-theory evolve through the process of natural selection. Memes on the megatubes are inside jokes that a large number of infobahn users are in on. One of my personal favorites is "I accidentally..." This meme was born on May 19th, 2008 when an anonymous person posted on an intersphere image board the following:

                                                     hey /b/ I need your help
                                                     I accidentally 93MB of .rar files
                                                    what should I do…is this dangerous ?

        Of course this begged the question, "Accidentally what?," the answer to which would be "93MB of .rar files." The fact that the poster was wondering if it was "dangerous" leaves even more to the imagination than does the absence of a verb. The element of mystery, and the fact that it was a useful tool for trolls, caused "I accidentally..." to spread like wildfire, thus attaining meme status, and soon people were accidentally everything from coke bottles to fleshlights to the economy to $11.95. The great thing about this meme is that you can accidentally anything.
      Another classic is "Divide By Zero." The thing about dividing by zero is that conventional wisdom tells us it can't be done. However, in recent years, an international network of nerds communicating through a series of tubes has called this belief into question. Today there is a strong contingent of individuals surfing the tube-o-sphere who believe that division by zero is in fact possible, but that if you were ever to do it something incredibly bad would happen. That could be anything from the End of Days to the sum of all human experience suddenly becoming like a neverending episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond." Others theorize that if one were to divide by zero one would create a time paradox which would cause one to go back in time and not divide by zero. But to most this school of thought is considered unrealistically sanguine.
        The bottom line and overriding point that I would like you to take away from this entire blog entry is that YOU SHOULD NEVER FUCKING DIVIDE BY ZERO, EVER. Think about the children. Are you really so selfish and rebellious that you feel the need to thwart over 80,000 years of science just to feel good about yourself, with full knowledge that you could in fact be jeopardizing innocent babies? Think about it. Here are some links to other memes for you to review after you're done thinking long and hard about that.

I'm in your base killing your d00ds        DO NOT WANT

When you see it...      I'm an Anteater!!!      Diabeetus      I see what you did there      Do a Barrel Roll!

Chuck Norris Facts      Yo Dawg      Leprechaun      Om Nom Nom Nom

 

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        Hello, and welcome to Appellate Sky, a blog about jogs, dogs, clogs, getting flogged, and other blogs. As the image in the upper right clearly indicates, this blog is awesome. I started it just now, and so far am very happy with it.

        This blog is going to be a depository of sorts, much like your mom. But unlike your mom, who is usually filled up by her best friend, Russell the Love Muscle, it will contain humorous commentary on pop culture and current events, as well as some deep metaphysical reflecting and the occasional poem--to be immediately followed by pyrotechnics, and second tier porn stars posing with snazzy choppers. AMERICA RULEZ.

        Now that I have my mission statement complete, I would like to move on to the actual blogging process. It's going to be epic, like the double rainbow guy or Sad Keanu. Not so much like Ovid's Metamorphoses, which is probably more boring than epic. I mean, it's gotta be, right? It was written something like two hundred years ago.

        I want to talk about paraprosdokians (pronunciation here: http://www.howjsay.com/index.php?word=paraprosdokian). A paraprosdokian is a statement or phrase which has an unexpected ending. A lot of old British people such as Winston Churchill (who is now possibly dead), have used them. Some paraprosdokians are almost nightmarishly unfunny, such "change is inevitable, except from a vending machine." Others, such as this one from the late comic Mitch Hedberg, are not.

        

        "I haven't slept for ten days, because that would be too long."

        

        Saturday Night Live used to have this disembodied voice named Jack Handey who also had a hand in many a paraprosdokian.

     

       "It's too bad that whole families have to be torn apart by something as simple as wild dogs."

       "The face of a child can say it all, especially the mouth part of the face."

        

        Emo Phillips, who is most famous for his conceptual joke in which he created a genre of music that sounds like hobbit-rape and named it after himself, was also known for his paraprosdokianing.

        

        "I like going to the park and watching the children run and jump around, because you see, they don't know I'm using blanks."

       

        A formal comedy routine or sketch is an appropriate setting for parawhatever usage. An example of an inappropriate situation would be during sexual intercourse. Imagine you and your ladyfriend or hunk of manmeat are getting busy, making the beast with two backs, if you will, and you cry out "I belong to no organized party! I am a Democrat!" While this may be factually correct, it could be a real mood-killer. Plus, Will Rogers already said it like 7,000 years ago.

        I hope this has been informative. I personally have learned that your mother is a whore. We'll see you next time, then, when I will further pursue my ambitionz as writah. Konichiwa bitches. 

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