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Thanks for your concern but I've already been. Had my brain scanned and everything. Nothing. I'm gonna have to make another appointment, I guess.
Once a girl dumped me while we were hanging out at my apartment, then got all confused and offended when I suggested that she should go home.
How would a dove curl up? And how would it get inside your head in the first place? Idiot.
I have a headache. I'm drinking hibiscus tea and it's not helping. I have to work tonight. I don't want to. Every ten or fifteen minutes I keep coming back to Videogum and just sort of moping around. I hadn't been coming here very often lately, for the last several months, mainly because I haven't been drinking and this place is associated in my mind with drunken posting (sorry about that, by the way), but it was reassuring to know that it still existed. I've had this recurring headache for more than a month now so I know that it doesn't have anything to do with the Death of Videogum but it FEELS like it does. IS THIS WHAT IT SOUNDS LIKE WHEN DOVES CURL UP AND DIE INSIDE YOUR HEAD? All those banana shirt pictures really bummed me out.
Maybe you had the bucket to draw attention to its lack of eye-eye opossums, as a sort of artistic statement, and the absence of eye-eye opossums from late twentieth century Capitalistic so-called civilization in general? You were a very precocious child, after all.
Way off-topic but just got home from watching Her and it was amazing. If any movie can make you a better person, this is it. Maybe not MUCH better but at least very, very slightly better. Just wanted to share that (in the dead of night, where no-one will read it) before you all go poof.
The worst thing about all this (for me, because obviously) is that I've been asked multiple times by the charming women of Videogum to marry them (usually as Mr. Tumnus but that still counts) and I always laughed it off like a vain fool, thinking it would never end, and now I'm going to die alone and unloved. My cold, unloved blood is on your hands, SPINMedia!
Not sure what you're trying to say or accomplish with this comment. I had to confront the fact that I'm an alcoholic quite a while ago and after a lot of struggle I've been sober for four months now, and I have to say that your comment is pretty much the least empowering, most discouraging thing I've ever read on the subject. I guess if you've lost someone you care about to addiction and you're trying to deflect some of the blame from that person by depriving them of their free will, then I can see where you're coming from. I guess I can see that. But if I believed for a second that anything you say is true, I'd be fucking toast so, again, what exactly are you trying to accomplish?
on 
Dead. Meteorites. Jerry and George are getting together to gripe about why the government isn't doing something about all these damn meteorites. Newman (being a government employee) will bear the brunt of their ire. "Cry Newman! And let slip the dogs of war!" someone will overhear Jerry saying.
In our day, if we wanted to see a celebrity meltdown we had to make do with Charlie Sheen. And we were grateful for it! None of this namby-pamby, Frenchy-wussy Shia Laboof nonsense. And when we got home, our dad would thrash us to sleep with his belt.
For a minute I thought you wrote pubic lice and I immediately pictured Shia tearing off his pubic louse costume and throwing it down in disgust before stomping off.
My favourite part was his description of what it's like to be on heroin. "And... then you stick an ice cube up your butthole and settle into a hot bath. A hot bath."
I just listened to the Dead Authors Podcast with William S. Burroughs (aka Kurt Braunohler) the other day and it's definitely one of the greatest things on the internet.
If you haven't seen The Corporation yet, that one. Should be required viewing for everyone.
I had a lot of weird dreams last night. I met the women from ABBA and got in an argument over whether their accents were cultural or genetic and then it turned out that they were evil ice aliens here to do experiments on humanity, and that was just a PART of the weirdness. Then I saw the above picture and thought it was a row of giant teeth receding towards the horizon and was like, "Oh shit, THE DREAM HAS BECOME REALITY!"
I watched Scrooge, the old 1951 movie with Alastair Sim. It used to be an annual tradition when I was a kid/teenager but I hadn't watched the whole thing in probably twenty years. It remains awesome. I was a bit surprised by how much of it I still remember. Like, the whole last part where Scrooge is suddenly all merry and manic (which is the best part) was preserved almost entirely intact, even down to the intonation of certain lines. It made me realize that I have to be a lot more careful about what I put in my brain. It would truly suck if I only had a few moments to live and some random scene from The Walking Dead started looping in my mind and my last words were "Goddammit, Carl."