I was asked to review a couple of services that either I use or some friends use!
They should never have done this.
The problem is I like writing reviews. The problem with that problem is I get bored writing reviews, suddenly remember that I have other things to do, or my mind just wanders and information drift takes over.
I like to keep things positive. I don’t want to give a service no stars AND a rambling review about why feet are shaped the way they are (controlled evolution and gene-tampering via GMOs by the shoe industry to sell differently-shaped goods that are not cross-applicable, but another post for another blog.)
So here are some examples of some of the reviews I’ve written. If I have helped even one person stagger away from their computer confused and wanting to do something else, it would not have been worthwhile at all.
The other day, I woke up with a skin tag under my left arm. It wasn’t there the day before. There were only two possibilities: it just suddenly appeared, or I don’t pay very close attention to my left armpit. I selected “just appeared” and decided to do some research. “Ask Jeeves” has been down for forever, so I joined the “sheeple” and opted for Google.
My friendly computer gave me a number of reasons for sudden, freakish skin tag growth to choose from. I was able to reject some of them with great reluctance. For instance, I am fairly certain I hadn’t recently angered a Wiccan, that my gluten-heavy diet isn’t giving me baby polio, and I am not a werewolf. I hated to discount these because I consider myself “solutions agnostic.”
I finally applied Occam’s razor to the situation and cut it down to the most likely solution: sunspots. I was not sure where we were in the 11-year sunspot cycle. The computer was not able to give me a sunspot calendar. Obvious unfulfilled need to exploit! Anyway, I applied the poultice using the recipe the computer gave me. About an hour later, I smelled smoke. It turns out that the poultice was not as tested on human subjects as it should have been.
So I ended up at my doctor’s office. After the application of a fire extinguisher and several Tuck’s medicated pads, my doctor asked me what was going on. I told him my computer told me that I needed to apply a poultice to my left armpit due to sunspots. His prognosis: “jackass, it’s just a skin tag.”
All of this is to highlight the fact that a computer can be your friend. This friend has unlimited porn and bad ideas. You probably should take some computer classes in how to control them. This place is a pretty good place to do that.
Spiderman: Homecoming is a movie about a boy – not a man – who is also not a spider. But “Not Spiderman: Homecoming” is a little contradictory and difficult to wrap one’s head around. You cannot go around defining things as what they are not.
Well, you CAN if you want. This is specifically a situation guaranteed by the First Amendment to the American Constitution, and some other amendment somewhere else in the world. No one will arrest you by defining something by something else that is not something. You can even do it in Algebra if you want to challenge yourself.
You probably won’t get laid doing it.
You’re in good company too, because Peter Parker isn’t getting laid either. Oops! SPOILER!
So BoyNotSpider has superpowers. He helps people. He has problems, but many of them are resolved by the end of the movie. That’s the broad-brushed stroke version of the whole thing. I don’t want to give away too much but I do want to dispell any rumors you might have heard about the movie:
- Peter Parker doesn’t open his own sex dungeon
- The main villain is not “The Groper”
- Tony Stark doesn’t spend the whole movie catfishing Peter Parker by pretending to be the Hulk
- There is no trumpet solo
- The webs come out of his hands, not his ass. I know: unrealistic.
- Peter Parker never thumps his chest and screams “ME SPIDERMAN.” No, not even in a public restroom
- No one’s head ends up on a stake. I presume they are saving this for the sequel
- There is no suicide pact
I hope this doesn’t spoil the movie for everyone.
Oops! I forgot to mention if I liked this move! Too late.
MY AWESOME REVIEWS
Article on biggestminutae.com
3 out of 5 stars
When I started to write that article, I had a headache. Towards the end of the post, I had a much larger headache. Ever have a headache while writing that is so bad that you suddenly become aware that nearly all of the letters of the English alphabet end in sharp points? That is the headache I ended up with.
I heard that taking too much ibuprofen will cause your liver to explode. I was willing to risk it after ambient light caused my life to flash before me.
Four ibruprofen and a couple of hours of potential regret later, I was able to crawl off the floor and into my chair so I could type further. In the absence of any real dangers here in the first world, I am reduced to patting myself on the back for bravery in the face of inconvenience.
It was only after another read-through of the post (with a minimal amount of whimpering) that I realized that the whole thing became too self-referential for my own good. Discretion is the better part of recuperating from a headache, so I should probably stop now.