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The Chronicles of Scarenia: Prince Frightened-Gaspian.
The Chronicles of Scarenia: The Voyage of the Damned Treader.
Alas, Tucker and Dale did not defeat evil and that fact haunts me still. They wanted to and they were up to the task but Coincidence conspired against them. That and their manner of speaking. Focus on the words, Sons and Daughters of Spare Oom! The manner in which the words are put forth is naught but distraction.
This is awkward, I do not wish to pick at nits, but I believe your genealogy is erroneous. If memory serves, Queen Excrementa was the first-born daughter of King Olvin and Lady Liln, and the successor to the throne of Archenland. Records from that time are sparse indeed but I once possessed a copy of "Observing the Archenland Royals Through a Lens Warped by the Passage of Ages" by Archyvion Mefforio and I do not recall any mention of a King Midas. Oh. You were speaking in jest. Now I see what you did there.
Your name brings to life a drama within my mind and then fails to resolve it. I suspect that I shall be visiting a very strange karaoke contest in my dreams tonight.
Huzzah! Go, Pink Man, go!
I wonder, if a Horse and a Narwhal were to mate, would they produce Unicorns? The first in Spare Oom! Or would their progeny be some freakish abomination suited to neither land nor sea? A Narse, or a Horwhal. It is interesting to consider but I feel it should be left as a thought experiment. Even an ocean of wine would not be enough to ignite romantic feelings between those two. A pity. Oh, perhaps costumes? But would it be easier to dress the Horse as a Narwhal, or vice versa? Or should they meet in the middle and both dress as Unicorns? Aha, that might work! Indeed, I think it would! For if they both believed themselves to be lying with a Unicorn, surely that would have some effect on their eventual offspring? Or... is that how that works? I am not sure. Hmm.
Upon reflection, this comment is utterly preposterous. A Human cannot grow hooves any more than I can grow feet! Ridiculous! Alas, I could not resist the lure of a flask of spirits when I was in town purchasing provisions today, so I am in my cups. The Twelve Steps Towards Anonymity are more fraught with peril than I had suspected.
I cannot offer advice on all of your problems but it seems that the answer to at least one of them is for you to grow hooves. They are practical and, in my humble opinion, quite shapely. But (perhaps you are thinking) this would only force me to buy even more complicated shoes to conceal my hooves from those - likely in the majority - who are incapable of understanding or appreciating such a radical divergence from the Human norm. "Not necessarily so!" would be my hypothetical reply. My hooves have elicited more curiousity than alarm by a wide margin. But I do wonder if the same would be true if my upper half was of a darker complexion. I have considered darkening it artificially and observing the results but that seems in rather poor taste. Aha! Are you dark in hue? If not, or if you prove to be unable to grow hooves, perhaps you could persuade someone with whom you are acquainted and who fits the epidermal criteria to do so, and then (I fear I am asking too much) you could report their experiences back to me? This is beyond presumptuous, I know, but I feel with a certainty that such an experiment would be of benefit to your Scientifick Arts. I eagerly await your reply.
The Cornucopias of Narnia: The Harvest of the Fall Treader: The Televisual Series. (I fear this makes absolutely no sense.)
I have posted another "How Did My Day Go, and Why?" update on my journal. It can be accessed by clicking here: http://therealtumnus.tumblr.com/ There. See? If you do not wish to click on the link, I can summarize my day: it could have gone better. As is the case with all days. But I was not struck by a flying stone spit from the interstellar void! So it could have gone worse.
I accept you as you are, robotcop, and so shall the rest of Spare Oom. One day. The darkness of ignorance is always blackest the moment before it is rent asunder by understanding! For now you must be patient and resist the urge to arrest Miss Kate on charges of racism. Your day shall come.
The thing that makes him such a beautiful Human is that he is never afraid to appear foolish or unattractive. He embraces the inherent silliness of existence. That is what makes the pathos of the milking machine's plight so affecting. He is us.
While I am not attracted to him in the sense that I would like to get closer to him physically, I must confess that I have been irresistibly drawn to his televisual likeness ever since I first witnessed this: http://img580.imageshack.us/img580/350/g6p.gif One feels for the plight of this Apparataiad, trapped within a milking machine and, even worse, forced to participate in activities far outside the machine's intended function. I felt my heart clench at the drama Mr. Odenkirk brought to life in this scene and I vowed that henceforth I would give a friendly nod to every milking machine I encountered, for it too could be possessed of an animate spirit and perhaps it had been similarly violated. We are all in this together, my Apparataid friends. Be strong.
My friends, please! Restrain your racist bloodlust! Or gearlust, as the case may be.
My friends, this Alex James Murphy is an impostor. Do not trust his lies! Also, Miss Conaboy's doubts concerning a Robot's aptitude for law enforcement reveal the great distance Spare Oom has yet to travel before racism is eliminated once and for all. We must remain watchful for such baseless slurs at all times, even in conversation with friends. To quote the true Alex James Murphy, "Your move, creep!" The creep in question being racism, in all its various guises.
Having recently glimpsed my own upper body as I passed a mirror, I find it implausible that Mr. Efron achieved this abdominal and pectoral definition without violating the Deep Magic of Spare Oom. But perhaps there is a clause contained in an even Deeper Magic which permits such exploitation. A clause whose sole purpose is to allow physical excellence beyond the limits of reason and natural law.... There was a time when I would have found this equally implausible but now, having born reluctant witness to the obsessions of Spare Oom for so long, a crack in the fundamental principles upon which your world rests seems the most likely explanation. Or perhaps I should stop dulling the edge of my sorrows with beer and lose some weight.
Oh, me! Me! More like... more like... Kelly Conadaughterofeve! Hashtag Ell Oh Ell.
http://img266.imageshack.us/img266/5771/kb0.gif Mr. Odenkirk possesses without question one of the most captivating likenesses to ever be disseminated televisually. In all truth, a lovely and brilliant Human.
Not in the sense that I breathed my last and dropped dead at the feet of that moment, but in what I believe is the vernacular sense.
That moment killed me as well.
His puffed-out chest and commanding aspect lead me to suspect that he wishes to be taken for a River God. He must believe us credulous indeed if he thinks we won't notice that he lacks a crown of rushes! Try again, Mr. Cowell.
If that is true, if you do not know who I am, then maybe it is because I am adopting characteristics foreign to my own for the purpose of conveying televisual drama. If you find it unsettling, I shall revert momentarily to my natural intonation and manner of behaving. Hello! It's me, Mr. Cranston!
It is distressing to find the Pink Man in such low spirits. Perhaps another trip to Cair Albuquerque is in order, since I no longer have any pressing engagements.
Why don't animals talk?
I'm afraid I don't quite grasp the importance of performance reviews (are you an actress? is your boss directing you in a play? if so, should he or she not be encouraging you, so that your performance might achieve its highest potential? and leave the reviews up to the playgoers?) (and how can your director not know what you are doing when you are doing it right in front of him or her? did he or she lose his or her eyes in some terrible battle? perhaps he or she should not be directing plays then, which are so reliant on the visible actions accompanying the dialogue, and should instead direct his or her energies towards opera...) (or have I got this all wrong? are you an opera singer? but how do the dogs factor into that? are you singing on behalf of the dogs? what is going on in your workplace?!?) but I sympathize. I apologize. I am deep in my cups. I enjoy naps and chips as well.
I hope you are not including my favourite cinematic, The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, in that assessment. The sting I felt when I bested my old father at rummy was bad enough. Please, don't even suggest that I've somehow diminished yet another of my idols.
Oh my! A mistyping! I am deeply embarrassed. There should be an "is" in there. I am sure I do not need to point out where it should go.
Perhaps the pile of junk conceals an entrance to Underland and the Rats you spy scurrying in and out are running errands for the Gnomes, being their agents on Top just as the Salamanders are their companions at the Bottom of the World. True, it is unlikely, since the world in question is not Narnia, but it a possibility. Any world is lessened when such possibilities are tossed aside out of hand. Perhaps you could view the pile of junk as a modest shrine to the unfettered potentialities of life in Spare Oom.
For the inquisitive, I have detailed my most recent goings-on here: http://therealtumnus.tumblr.com Please do not feel under any obligation to spare my feelings by visiting the link, for I shall not know either way.
I shall miss your humourous rage, Mr. Delahaye. You have found a wonderful successor in Miss Conaboy and your legacy could not be in more capable hands, but even so.... While I believe that you are correct when you say that we are all Videogum, I would venture to suggest that you are the most Videogum of us all. This place will never be quite the same without you.
I enjoy the heat for the most part, but I must confess that my moulting cycle is not designed for these climes, to the point where I have considered shaving my legs.
You had me at "Narnia." Alas, I cannot allow my hopes to ascend too highly as I suspect that the Talking Beasts contained in this L'Abri will prove to be anamatronomonical...? Filled with machine parts, I mean. Chuck E Cheese wounded my spirits too deeply to allow for an excess of optimism in this regard. But I am happy that it was a convincing enough facsimile for you and that it brought you some peace of mind. You have been upward thumbed by me.
It was a picture of the above automobile with NARNIA! written across the hood. Now perhaps you will not feel its absence as keenly.
There should be a picture there, or at the very least a link. I shall refrain from posting it again and hope that whatever Internymph spirited it away will one day see fit to return it.
I once knew a Wolf named Maugrim (briefly, and to my regret) whom I believe would also serve as a convincing counter-point to Mrs Paltrow's argument.
I seem to have given the wrong impression. I merely meant that I will no longer be posting long-winded updates as to my current whereabouts and goings-on here, on Videogum, because apparently a limit has been placed on the word length of my comments. If some day my situation improves and I feel the need to share my day-to-day affairs with the glittering souls snared by the Internet, I will do so on the Tumblr Blog. Blog. Blog. I cannot make myself comfortable with that word, no matter how much I try. That does not necessarily mean that I will never comment here again. It only means that if I do, I will have to be succinct and not ramble on and on about tea or cakes or... tea and cakes. I feel I should add that even though I am currently caged in a bewildering nightmare world, I entered this place from Montreal. That being the case, I am still a guest in a foreign country and it would be ungracious of me not to wish all Canadians a Happy Canada Day, With Many Even More Joyous Returns. I understand that the Kaybekua remain somewhat ambivalent towards the concept of Canada As A Whole but I'm sure they will come around once they get to know you better.