Not bright, Bart.
Who knows what happened to your wallet, Mitch. I'm not your valet, for chrissake. And tubey - get your freaking plant food out of my shoe closet. I don't care if it's full of topsoil. That just means I've been pacing the north forty. Just lay off!
I'm sorry you had to hear that (or read the transcript of it, rather). Yes, tempers are running a little thin around the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill these days. Some see it as a variation on seasonal affective disorder - you know, it starts getting warm, we can't afford air conditioning, and this clammy mill gets kind of toasty. But it goes deeper than that, I'm afraid. An erosion of trust, you might say. It's the kind of thing that tends to happen with Big Green between interstellar tours. In fact, that's what keeps driving us into space. I think that's what, anyway.
Still, there are other things eating away at us. Like those nefarious bloggers, always trying to make more of a monkey out of me than I am to begin with. Now they've done it again - taking footage of me out of
context. A freakish miscarriage of justice, executed with the witless assistance of Marvin (my personal robot assistant). Yes, he archives video of all of us in his back up drives. It's cheap storage - what can I tell you? (Mitch even keeps his lunch in Marvin's air manifold.) Anyway, he must have tottered his way over to Manhattan at some point last week, fell in with the wrong crowd, and next thing you know, my heavily edited ass is all over YouTube.
What heinous deed is the blogger making it seem, though video sleight of hand, I was committing? It's not so much about doing as being. By taking scenes out of context, the man is suggesting that I am The Fly. Yes, that The Fly. How could he manage that? Simple - he gets his hands on random footage of my daily life here at the Hammer Mill, cuts out key scenes and transitions, eliminates exculpatory material, and voila! One hideous man-fly.
So my friends... keep those home movies close to your chest. You don't want to end up like me. You've been warned!
I'm sorry you had to hear that (or read the transcript of it, rather). Yes, tempers are running a little thin around the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill these days. Some see it as a variation on seasonal affective disorder - you know, it starts getting warm, we can't afford air conditioning, and this clammy mill gets kind of toasty. But it goes deeper than that, I'm afraid. An erosion of trust, you might say. It's the kind of thing that tends to happen with Big Green between interstellar tours. In fact, that's what keeps driving us into space. I think that's what, anyway.Still, there are other things eating away at us. Like those nefarious bloggers, always trying to make more of a monkey out of me than I am to begin with. Now they've done it again - taking footage of me out of
context. A freakish miscarriage of justice, executed with the witless assistance of Marvin (my personal robot assistant). Yes, he archives video of all of us in his back up drives. It's cheap storage - what can I tell you? (Mitch even keeps his lunch in Marvin's air manifold.) Anyway, he must have tottered his way over to Manhattan at some point last week, fell in with the wrong crowd, and next thing you know, my heavily edited ass is all over YouTube.What heinous deed is the blogger making it seem, though video sleight of hand, I was committing? It's not so much about doing as being. By taking scenes out of context, the man is suggesting that I am The Fly. Yes, that The Fly. How could he manage that? Simple - he gets his hands on random footage of my daily life here at the Hammer Mill, cuts out key scenes and transitions, eliminates exculpatory material, and voila! One hideous man-fly.
So my friends... keep those home movies close to your chest. You don't want to end up like me. You've been warned!
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