Monthly Archives: June 2009

Family reunions suck hard.

The other day, we were stripped from our favorite video game, stuffed inside a car obviously not designed to fit two hippos and a grown adult, and taken on a four hour trip to people we’ve never seen before in our entire life.  Were we being abducted and held for ransom?  No!  It was much worse than that!  Getting kidnapped would seem like a paradisal wonderland equal to that of McDonald’s Play Place compared to the horrors we were in for; we were being taken to a Family Reunion.

Because of Father’s Day last weekend, we’re sure a lot of our fans had to undergo something similar to a family reunion (at least the fans not totally alone in the world; hands up, how many of you consider us your reason for existence?).  You know, those craptacular things where you’re “re”introduced to some long lost relative?  “Look Tubbo, there’s uncle Sherman!  Remember him?”  “Hey Tubbo, come here a meet your aunt Helga!”  “Tubbo, it’s cousin Jeff!  He’s been lost at sea for 25 years!”  We don’t care!  We don’t know any of them!  In our mind, they aren’t even family!  If they didn’t bother contacting us for so many years (not even “cousin Jeff” has an excuse; he could’ve sent us a message in a bottle on Halloween and New Years), they hold absolutely no significance to us.  We don’t really “hate” them; we’re more indifferent. Thinking about it, our life HAD been better without them in it, but we can’t help but feel a deep dislike in the bottom of our hearts every time our eyes meet with one of our so-called “relatives”, likely caused by so many Birthdays we went through without so much as a check from any of them.  No money or toys on Birthdays or Christmas, no-shows on every sporting events we’ve ever participated in (four), not even acknowledgment that we are alive for years at a time, and they still want us to treat them with love and respect?  Cretins!

Luckily, we came prepared to THIS family reunion.  Before being dragged into our poorly-designed car, we both grabbed our iPod Touches.  On arrival, we managed to secure a thankfully unoccupied bathroom in our Grandpa’s house where the family reunion took place, and stayed there piggybacking off the neighboor’s Internet connection for the entire thing.  Sure, the police showed up because everyone thought we really HAD been abducted (uncle Mary has a thing for little hippos), but it saved us hours of excruciatingly painful socializing with the lowlifes we have for family.  It’s funny, but they all talk about the same things: how they’ve missed us so much(we know that everyone wants to be around us, but it’s their fault for not visiting), how we need to get together more often (nope, too late, you had your chance), and how much we’ve grown (no we haven’t, we’re as short and stout as ever, quit lying to our face, ho)…  It’s like talking to hundreds of pointlessly created clones of the same guy who was boring in the first place over and over and over.  Then, after the relative decides they’ve “broken the ice” with us, like a 10 minute conversation can make up for 5 years of lost time, they go back to talking with another adult.  It seems like adults can’t bear a child’s ramblings for more than a few minutes at a time.  What we don’t get, however, is how an adult’s conversation to a child, as boring as it usually is, is about twice as interesting as two average adult’s conversation.  THAT is something we dread hearing: “Oh man, I hate my job,”, “I saw a real hottie today…  through my binoculars,”, and “I’ve got a ton o’ paper work to do,” are about the most exiting ones we’ve heard.  Yet, they seem to prefer that as opposed to listening to our plans on world domination.  Their loss.

Whenever we see “happy” families walking down the street, we pray horrible things happen to them.

We hate our family, we hate adults, but mostly we hate our family.  We say that if it takes an entire carefully planned “party” to bring members of the same family together, said family members probably shouldn’t be together, visiting, in the first place.  Somewhere along the line of hundreds of Grey’s (family name) this reunion had to get the “okay” from, someone should have said, “Wait; this reunion is an awful idea.  I hate all these people, so why would I want to reunite with them?”  If it had to get the okay from us, that’s EXACTLY what we said.  Unfortunately, no one asked for our opinion, so the reunion was okayed, which is why we’re writing about it now.  God, family reunions suck.

Next time we’re invited to a family reunion, we’re not-so-pleasantly declining.  For better or for worse, the next family reunion likely won’t take place for another hundred years or so (wait, that’s what got us so angry in the first place!), but if it ever does roll around when we’re still breathing (although you shouldn’t be surprised if we stop breathing because of a reunion), we’re putting a stop to it.  In our opinion, no one on this planet, except maybe Tom Cruise or Kenny G, should have to go through a family reunion.  If we didn’t have our iPod Touches, we probably wouldn’t be here right now, and although many of you are cursing Macintosh for creating iPods at this very minute, remember: no one would deserve such a horrible fate.  Family reunions are evil.  Family reunions suck hard.

 

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Weeding out the REAL Garden.

For those who don’t know, we’ve been in a little war with a website called “The Panic Button.”  It started over a small feud over an image they stole from our site (and claimed it was their own), then escalated to the point where we impersonated a lawyer, telling Sssaam (owner of the Panic Button) that if he didn’t take the image down from his site immediately, we’d take him to court.  Sssaam agreed to take it down, but a month later, after figuring out the lawyer was a fake (he discovered our IP address was the same as the “lawyer”), he put the image back up and made a post about us titled “Some People Are Just Stoopid.”  We couldn’t sit back and take that abuse, so that’s why we’re writing this.  Now that your caught up, you may continue . . .

Usually when we rant about a topic here at the Official Tubbo Website, we write a single post about it and are finished with the subject. Perhaps the lone exception to this “rule” are the Legoless Wars (where we wrote part one, then felt obligated to write a part two as well). But the Panic! Button, which is already on it’s fourth post about us, has been spewing so many lies that we just couldn’t sit back and hope that viewers wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall for it (because in all honesty, they aren’t).  (Our first post about the Panic Button has been deleted because of an agreement we’ve worked out with Ssaam.)  We had to post the truth for all the loyal Tubbo fans. So here it is: Weeding Out The REAL Garden (a parody of the Panic! Button’s ugly, lie-fueled post).

1.) We’ve freely admitted the lawyer issue was an impersonation.

Sssaam has claimed that we admitted that the lawyer emails were fake. That is true; we DID admit to it. The LIE is that Sssaam claimed to his viewers that we apologized by saying this:

We have nothing left to say to you. We admit it was a bit clever, tracking us with the “Among Us” widget. Yep, every single one of those accusations, the bullet points, are correct.

Sssaam follows this up by calling us “idiots”. If this really did happen, and we really did compliment Sssaam on his “cleverness” (don’t worry, we’ll get to that), why would he insult us? Obviously that “quote” is a lie. Either that, or Sssaam is an unstable lunatic who gets angry when people compliment him.

The only part of the entire “quote” that we actually said was the first part (“we have nothing left to say to you”). The rest of it is a lie. We would never compliment Sssaam on his so-called “cleverness” because Sssaam was NOT clever. A 4-year-old could demonstrate the same amount of wit he possesses. How hard is to paste a code for the Among Us widget into a sidebar? Well, it probably gave Sssaam a headache trying to figure out how to click the mouse, but anyone else should be able to do this. And that’s what we’re supposed to be complimenting? Better luck next time, Sssaam. In actuality, we said this:

The TRUE email from us to Sssaam. Doesn’t seem like an “apology”, does it?

2.) Sssaam doesn’t live in Ohio; he lives in omitted.

By the looks of one of Sssaam’s posts, he seems to think we believe he lives in Ohio. We’ve discovered where Sssaam does live, but the location has been omitted from this post due to a mutal agreement we’ve made with him.

Sssaam’s full name was also discovered using our lawyer hoax, but it too has been omitted.  We’ll give you a hint though: his first name is Sam.  Incredible, huh?

3.) The Panic! Button breaks the law with nearly every post they’ve ever made.

Sssaam and the Panic! Button have accused us many times of breaking the law. They’ve reported us to WordPress (wordpress.com), Ty (ty.com), and even emailed some lawyer whom we “impersonated” (the original Steven Burris). It’s rather ironic, because obviously we’ve NEVER been contacted by any of them; they don’t care about us. We’re still on the Internet, despite Sssaam’s attempts to get us deleted. He honestly believes big corporations like those care about what we do.

Sssaam likes making other people into the bad guy(s), but in reality, the one true criminal is Sssaam. Sssaam has stolen nearly every photo he has ever used for his so-very-illegal website. He fully admits to his thefts below:

Sssaam seems to think that it’s okay to use others images as long as he doesn’t claim they are his own. It’s not. If Sssaam hasn’t asked permission from the owners of these images to use on his website, it’s nothing less than THEFT, making Sssaam a dirty, lewd criminal. One of these days it’s going to catch up to him, and Sssaam will get what he deserves. You know those hilarious “Things To Do” lists Sssaam has on his website? Those are stolen.  We could trace each and every one of those articles back to various places on the Internet.  The “Things to do in a Bathroom Stall” was originally from here.  “Things to Do at McDonald’s” was first made here.  And every time you laugh at one of his jokes, you’re laughing at illicit activity. Makes you think, doesn’t it? Is Sssaam the person he claims he is?

4.) Last time we checked, our site wasn’t designed for 18+ viewers.

When Sssaam emailed Ty on our behalf, he stated our site contained 18+ material (view full email here). We suppose our site could be considered 18+… If you plan on spending your adult years watching Dora the Explorer and Sesame Street, if you still eat Animal Crackers, or if you still believe in the Easter Bunny. Sssaam, who does (or plans on doing) all of these things, naturally assumes our site is full of “adult humor”, but if you actually took the time to examine our site, you’d find that the worst thing said on this site is the word “crap”. Oh no, someone call the Child Abuse agency; they said “crap”! We know that children like Sssaam run to their mothers if a kid in school says the “H-Word” (“heck”), but most don’t, and most should be able to handle a tame website such as ours with breaking into tears.

5.) Sssaam hates his fans.

Sadly, this is the only conclusion we could reach; Sssaam really DOES hate the people who visit his site. Why else would he lie to them? He lied about where he lived, he lied about us… He would probably lie to his own mother (yes, the same crazy women who calms him when he cries over our website). A guy like Sssaam (and likely the entire crew at the Panic! Button) isn’t safe for young kids to be around. One day Sssaam is stealing images off the computer, the next he could be stealing TVs from the Mall. For all we know, he already is doing that, and from there, who knows how far he’ll fall? We just know that we don’t want to be involved in someone like Sssaam, and we encourage OUR fans to stay far away. As anyone can see, we’re protecting our fans. We only wish Sssaam would do the same…

Finally, we just wanted to show the world the email we sent Sssaam about his latest post just so you can witness the owning. We’re still waiting on a reply.

Picture 8

And that’s that, case closed.  Final score:  Tubbos: 1,000,000,000.  Ssssaam: 0.

Update – Yesterday, a site designed to generate hate towards us titled WeHateTubbo.WordPress.com sprung up.  Unfortunatley, we didn’t approve of it, and a quick email to WordPress’s Support got it shut down.  For good.  That just shows what the Tubbos disapproval can do to a site.  Don’t let it happen to you.

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The Curious Case of a Man with Gelotophobia

For a long time, we’ve thought about publishing a book. Not a normal, mainstream crap book like “Twilight” (oh no, my boyfriend’s a vampire, the horror!) or “Harry Potter” (zippity-zoopity zap, take that Voldemort… What kinda name is Voldemort, anyway?); we’re making a really cool book. The kind you won’t see at Barnes & Nobel for various legal reasons. An underground masterpiece with a cult-like following.

The only trouble was “what to write about?”

But after two weeks of (as much as we hate this word) “brainstorming” ideas, we thought of a suitable topic: freaks! Weird loners who don’t seem to have any friends! Our school is filled with them! From the cannibal who eats his neighbors to the arsonist who burns down churches, our book on freaks will cover them all. We’ve written about three chapters so far, and we’ve decided that we’re gonna give you all a free sampling. Now, get ready to have your world rocked as you step into the mind of a freak. Note that this portion of the book is written in “diary” form.

My name is Albert Flatt. All my life I’ve, in a way, wanted real friends that would never leave me. The problem was, I knew in my heart (without even having to meet them) that they’d leave me without a second glance my way. Pretending to have friends solved my problem… For a little while anyway. This is my epic. It’s no tale of rising glory, of overcoming monsters, of sailing the high seas. Nay, it’s a tale of betrayal, of hardship, of cannibalism. But it’s all I know.

All through High School I never made an attempt to make real friends and relationships because I always knew I had my imaginary friends to fall back on. My imaginary friends would never betray me- they wouldn’t even know how. So, in contrast, I spent my High School days as a nerd (or, as the jocks liked to say, a “freak”. But I showed them…). I was tormented and ridiculed for being who I was. Girls thought it was odd how I talked to myself on occasion. Of course, I wasn’t “talking to myself”- I was talking to my friends no one else could see. In school, I didn’t need real people. I had all the friends I needed, real or not.

cross

Nowadays, I’m about 40-50 years old (I’m not telling you my exact age because I’m afraid of giving too much information to “real” people), I live with my mom in her basement, and I haven’t been in contact with a living human besides my mom, the clerk at the D&D store which I frequent, and my mailman, for about thirty years. I don’t like to chat with any of them except for my mom (whom I occasionally come on to), and the mailman whom I hit with a baseball bat if he tries to get to close to my mom. Heh heh. If you consider that “chatting”.

Chatting with my imaginary friends is much more entertaining. They tell me jokes and I laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh. I’ll tell you one that made me laugh and laugh and laugh… “Why did the chicken cross the road?” … Answer me, please. … ANSWER! … ANSWER MEEEEEEEEEEE!!

But where are my manners? I haven’t introduced you, the audience (I know you’re there, I can hear your mind moving), to my bestest friends, although not quite “living”, on the whole planet. I have four and a half friends: One of them is a pink polka-dotted Power Ranger (I love that show- I have all the seasons and action figures, and even keep the actor of the red Power Ranger of the original series in my closet), one’s a dragon (I’ve always nursed a soft spot when it comes to dragons), one’s a dog who looks shockingly similar to Hitler, and one is a scary, blood-drenched clown who attracts little children into his van by offering them candy. Although they aren’t the greatest of people with the greatest morals you’ll ever meet, they’re fine once you get to know them.

The problem is, my mom has been trying to get me involved with “real” people when I’ve got all the people I need in my life right here in the basement. What’s the difference between real and imaginary people? I’ve lived so long without knowing real people, I think I’ve forgotten. Is there even a difference? What’s so great about “real” people? Real people can hurt you, and scary clown doesn’t it like it when I hurt…

You see, Mother has this crazy idea that being alone in the dark, soulless basement all day could “warp” me. I told her that I’m as warped as I’m gonna get, but it only seemed to worry her more. But tonight, I’ll show her just how normal I can be by demonstrating my oh-so-normal ability to handle a running chain-saw without harming a soul. Won’t Mother be surprised when she is awoken by a man wearing a hockey mask wielding a chain-saw, and then see that she still has her arms and legs attached to her body! I just hope, for my mom’s sake, that I’m as good with the chain-saw in real life as I think I am… You see, I’ve never actually held one. But I’ve seen people on my television (sweet, sweet television) juggle them all the time!

I hope I’ve explained my predicament well enough. I don’t think there is anything wrong with having imaginary friends, I only wish my mom would be convinced. I’m happy how I am, but sometimes I wonder what life would be like without the paranoia and pills I undergo every day…

We think that’s enough for a teaser. Chapter one ends there, but there are about 756 chapters in the finished novel. Wanna find out if Albert Flatt really does chop his mom up? Or if he ever sees the light of day from his lonely basement again? Then buy our finished novel at any local book store (as long as it’s not from Barnes & Nobel) and find out!

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15 things you don’t say at a funeral.

15 things you don’t might say at a funeral…

  1. *Poke an old person* and say “You’re next.”
  2. How much is this costing us?”
  3. “Jeez, I didn’t know the rat killer was that powerful; this was meant to be a joke!”
  4. *To a family member,* “he never liked you.”
  5. “Does anyone else smell something?”
  6. “Famous last words, indeed.”
  7. *If the corpse was a close relation,* “Hey, wait! I knew this guy!”
  8. “I am so high right now.”
  9. “Why so serious?”
  10. *To his/her wife/husband,* “Don’t worry; I heard Hell isn’t as bad as the Bible makes it seem.”
  11. “Did they find a motive?”
  12. “Drugs kill, kids.”
  13. “…And this is why fire and gasoline just don’t mix.”
  14. *If the parent of the dead one is still alive,* say “Congratulations! You must be so proud!”
  15. “What a beautiful day to be alive.”

Naturally, we’ve said about ten of these. Of course, we’ve only been to one funeral. We made sure Ol’ Jimmy was sent off right…

R.I.P.

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