What do we really look like?

We’ve been getting emails asking, “what do you guys really look like?” enough to actually justify putting the question in our FAQ.  We were hesitant, at first, to post a real picture of us, mostly because it would make people jealous.  But then we remembered that we love making people jealous.  Other interests include making people unhappy, making people insecure, and making people angry.

 So today, as a rare treat, we’ll be posting a real picture of Dubba Tubba (maybe we’ll post one of Tubbo next time).

“Anyone wanna arm wrestle?” 

Yeah, we work out.  Sometimes.  Dubba Tubba’s triceps aren’t quite where he wants them, but you get the idea.

UPDATE – After posting this picture, hatemail has decreased by around 75%.  We should do this more often.

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Crappy blog ideas.

Lately, WordPress blogs seem to be overrun with crappy trends and ill-thought-out ideas that make you wonder were any of these thought up by a mental-ward resident? The answer is likely “yes,” but the trends continue regardless, which makes you wonder are the people following these trends mental-ward residents? Again, the answer is almost certainly “yes,” but that isn’t the point here. The point is most all these ideas are crappy. Crap straight out of the Asian’s mouth. Yeah, we went there. Read the following if you want the poopiest ideas for your blog ever invented, because we’re just that mature.

  • Ratings.
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One of the particularly crappy trends is the Rating function WordPress Support recently added. Using this, bloggers allow their viewers to rate their posts using a 1-5 star system, not unlike that of YouTube.

We’ve refused to use or enable this feature, not because we’re afraid we’ll get 1 star reviews; in fact, it’s quite the opposite. If we were to enable this feature, our blog would become flooded with five star ratings, to the point where every single one of our posts would have a perfect 5 stars. This would discourage fans from making their own blogs, because they’d think they would “never be as good as the Tubbo twins.” And we say good riddance to them, it’s obviously true.

Okay, we kinda ruined it there. We had a great Sob Story going there, and we trashed it all for a quick jab at our viewers. Crap. Most people would know that’s not true anyway, so oh well. We wouldn’t get five star reviews, and we couldn’t care less. But we do have a good reason for not using the Rating system; we don’t need you to rate us. To be completely honest, we don’t even want you to rate us. We don’t need some lowlife tween’s five star rating to sleep at night. You want the truth? We think we’re better than you. Happy? You aren’t gonna kill yourself, are you? We honestly think we’re worth more than you. It might be our ego, it might be the truth, but we believe we are superior. We don’t need your approval because it doesn’t matter to us. If we had built this blog with the intentions of garnering approval and pleasing the public, we wouldn’t have made enemies with bigger, more popular blogs, and we wouldn’t have written about such experiences. Controversy isn’t generally praised with a “Let’s-Make-Tubbo-President” status, yet we continue to write controversial material. Why do you think that is? Maybe because we don’t give a crap what you think? Maybe because we know we’re better than people who complain about controversy and truth? Ratings would contradict everything we’ve stood for here at the Tubbo Site, and we’re not gonna throw it all away just to make the viewers feel like they’re doing something constructive by giving a particularly controversial post one star (because they’re not). And to all the people who do rate blogs with one star; screw you. The owner of that blog is worth twice what you are, because he’s doing something with his life, even if it is blogging. It’s more than what could be said for you. So yeah, um, up yours.

We’ve generated more hate than love in the three years that we’ve had this blog, and we’re damn proud of it. Bully for the messed up rating system and all it’s users, because your opinions on something we do in our spare time are worthless. Our blog is our blog, it belongs to us, and we write for ourselves. No one else, not you, not our dog, not even old Bill McGraw down the way, God bless him. This is completely for our pleasure. If we give a few people looking for angry rants a good read, hey, that’s great, but if all we do is piss people off, hey, that’s even better. That’s right, to all you people getting ready to shoot us a hatemail at this very moment; Hahahahahaha! The jokes on you, tard-faced losers. All you’re doing is proving that we’re right (and we are right, it says so on our homepage). So you know what? Screw the rating system, screw the haters, and screw you, too.

  • Music players.
  •  

And now for something completely different . . . Let’s put the self-liberation and feel good crap (above) aside for a minute. It’s time to talk about music players. No, we’re not talking about the over-priced and wrongly-hyped iPod by Apple (but we do hate those things, that might be a good idea for another rant-post). We’re talking about when bloggers think they’re being innovative (when all they’re actually being is retarded) by putting an HTML code for playing music (called MixPlayers) into their blog. Example below:

If you are gonna put a music player in your blog, here’s a bit of advice; DON’T HAVE THE MUSIC PLAY AUTOMATICALLY. That pisses us off more than anything (more than telemarketers and nuclear war combined), and for good reason. Many times we’ve damn near crapped ourselves when we come to a blog, unaware that we’re about to be blasted with music (we accidentally leave the volume all the way up on occasion). We’ve visited blogs before, at school when we’re supposed to be working (shh, don’t tell), and then this music blares out of the computer because some IDIOT decides that their blog should play that new Britney Spears song whenever it’s loaded. What the hell?! That’s a terrible freaking idea, a 2-year-old coulda told you that. Thanks idiot, now we have detention (and a heart-attack), and it’s all your fault. And you still think you should have your music play automatically? Anyone who thinks this is a good idea doesn’t deserve to breath, let alone host a blog! If you’re gonna put a music player into your blog, that’s a stupid idea. If you’re gonna have the music play automatically, that’s an even stupider idea; get ready for some justified hatemail from us, because that’s one of our thousands of pet peeves (and it’s near the top).

Another bit of advice if you’re gonna be a jerk and have everyone stop visiting your blog because of one poor idea; try putting a song that everyone enjoys on your player. Can’t think of any? That’s probably because no two people have the same taste in music! And no, not everyone likes that obnoxious new “BOOM POW” song by the Black Eyed Peas (or whatever it’s called, we have more important things to do than listen to rap-pop, like collecting dust bunnies for our collection). Personally, we leap from the car whenever that song pops up on the radio, whether we’re pulling out of the driveway, or speeding on a highway.

“Oh hai, we’d da Black Eyed Peas and we can’t not think of ‘ny good lyrics fo our new song so we’s just gonna scream BOOM BOOM POW! over n over like goddamn diabetic kids playing Power Rangers!!” No, just turn it off. Your taste in music sucks, why prove it by putting this on your music player?

We can hear the emails coming already: “But Tubbos, what if I have a wide range of music on my player so everyone hears something they like?” We’ve got an even better idea; how about you get rid of the music player instead, and let people listen to what they like from their own computer, you tool?! Most people are capable of booting up iTunes, they don’t need help from your pussy blog. If viewers want to listen to music, they’ll do it on there own. If they don’t want to listen to music, they aren’t gonna, and having your crappy music forced onto them every time they try to visit your blog isn’t gonna make them happy, it’s just gonna piss them off.

Our favorite type of music is Norwegian death metal and doom thrash. How often do you think we hear a song we like on a blog’s music player? Not very often. We’d rather hear silence, no, we’d rather have our ears gnawed off by cats than suffer through another top-40 chart topper. We’ve seriously stopped going to blogs we used to enjoy going to because we can’t stand the music they’ve started playing. So unless you can find a song that is universally loved (hint, it starts with an N and ends with an OTHING), turn the player off auto-play, or better yet, just ditch the player altogether, or better yet, delete the blog and shoot yourself in the head. Please.

We think features like these are thought up just to make people like us angry.

  • Fancy CSS, JavaScript, or Flash.
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If you’re thinking about getting a blog, there are three things it can definitely do without; Fancy CSS, JavaScript, and Flash. Used to “bright up” a blog and it’s interface, usually using these do more harm than good.

Now, we’re “slightly” biased towards things like Flash and JavaScript, partly because we never figured out how to use them and partly because we’ve witnessed seizures at the hands terribly done CSS, but we can still speak for most when we say that too much CSS/JavaScript/Flash is too damn much. Notice how we say too much, not all. That’s because, when done right and used sparingly, things like CSS can actually be kinda cool. We’ve actually been thinking about switching to payed upgrade to enable CSS for a while now. But if we do get it, you can be sure our blog isn’t gonna become one of those flashy, unnavigable, epileptic hells that you see all over WordPress lately.

And again, we can already here the emails coming: “But Tubbos, I like doing CSS and it’s kinda like a hobby lol.” We have one thing to say to you: SHUDDUP! You’re a nerd, you enjoy writing code, so kindly shut the hell up while the grown-ups talk.

If you have any skill at writing (even skills equal to that of a toddler; basically if you can spell “red”), you’ll never have to resort to using overdone CSS. Unfortunately, it’s those that don’t have good content who choose to use CSS. We’re tired of seeing content-less blogs on WordPress’s front page just because of some crappy Flash. That reminds us; if you have to use Flash — and you shouldn’t ever “have” to use Flash — for the love of God don’t use it as a Flash intro page. It’s the biggest audience killer ever (not that blogs using Flash deserve an audience). When will people wake up and realize the blog sucks? Whoopee, you learned how to copy’n’paste code into a text box! Now learn to how string words to make a comprehensible sentence, then we’ll talk. It’s not the gimmicky CSS, the bright colours, or the animations that matter; it’s the content! You can usually tell if a blog is any good just by looking at the interface, which we’ve gotten quite good at; a sharply tuned BS radar keeps you away from crappy JavaScript-dependent blogs. Basically, ask yourself, does it use a lot of fancy CSS? If yes, there’s a 95% chance the owner is using the CSS to cover up his poor writing. If no, the blog still probably sucks, but at least the owner doesn’t try to hide it. We respect honesty in talentless hacks.

Blog owners using CSS, we’ve got a message to you, BS-Express: pull your head out of your ass, go back to school, and try blogging again once you pass 2nd grade. If there isn’t anything worth reading, what’s the point of even visiting the blog?! When was the last time any of you visited a blog with the sole purpose of admiring the amazing Header (although our Header is quite amazing, so it’s only a matter of time) or the “nefty” GIF animations? That’s not why we anyone visits blogs. We everyone visits blogs to read something interesting, and there has never been an interesting blog that feels the need to use JavaScript. If it was interesting, it would be able to stand on it’s own with support from it’s Flash AIDS. We’ll praise CSS and Flash on their own terms, but NOT when they get in the way of the blog.

Want an example of one the worst-designed blogs, ever? Click here (new window); we discovered it during our time at Legoless’s Blog. It’s laughably bad, and by “laughably bad” we mean we started twitching uncontrollably after visiting it just once.

 

That’s all we’ve got for you, although crappy ideas for blogs spring up almost daily. Keep on the look out for crap-blogs, and don’t fall for any of their tricks. Or else we’ll kill you.

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Lyrics to Tourette’s (Nirvana)

In our latest post, we decided to contribute a bit to online dictionaries because Urban Dictionary, for lack of a better word, sucks (just kidding, there’s never been a more awesome word).  Today, we’re contributing to online lyrical meanings and analysis’.  One song that always puzzled us was “Tourette’s” by Nirvana.  We’ve looked it up a few times on Google searching for correct lyrics and interpretations, but they all contradicted each other.  For lack of a better word, they sucked.  If you don’t know for certain what a song’s lyrics are, what are you doing posting them for potentially millions to see?  We see misprinted lyrics every day; the Government should forget about Iran (that place was lame in the first place; it didn’t have an arcade and the food was subpar; we say let the terrorists have the freaking hellhole) and concentrate on saving the thousands of disturbed lyrics being misinterpreted on a daily basis.  Honestly, why would anyone post lyrics that they aren’t sure they have correct?  What is so hard about this?!  Do these sickos just enjoy being cussed out by fans (which is what we do whenever we see wrong lyrics posted) or are they so moronic that they can’t understand human speech when it’s being screamed into their head through headphones?  How does anyone sincerely get lyrics to basic rock songs wrong?  Where the hell’s our coffee?  Our only conclusion is the people posting incorrect lyrics enjoy the attention, negative as it is, which brings us back to the “idiot theory.”  Oh well, we’re fine with that, as long as we get to swear at them.

Back to Nirvana; we’re big fans, so we know this song backwards and forwards and we clearly know the lyrics for certain.  Sometimes we scream this song out the car window.  We get funny looks once in a while, but that’s not the point; the point is . . . nevermind, we forgot it.  Just look at the lyrics, okay?

Tourette’s by Nirvana

Byejfd jgfhd fhhg by ffiiddus
Byejfd jgfhd conffuf by ffiddus
Byejfd jgfhd fhhg by ffiiddus
Byejfd jgfhd conffuf by ffiddus

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey hey hey hey!

Dhfgjkdg dgggd by ffiddus
JgfzjkdddiyuiIHJ ddddd by fiddus
Dhfgjkdg dgggd by ffiddus
JGfzjkdddiyuiIHJ ddddd by fiddus

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey hey hey hey!

Ghfjkdhgg haahagfgfghfggghghghghghghghghghvgn
JgfzjkdddiyuiIhj ddddd by fiddus
Dhfgjkdg dgggd by ffiddus

C’mon fdh . . . C’mon . . . C’mon . . .

Interpretation:

Kurt Cobain, Nirvana’s singer/songwriter, has tourettes.

Don’t know/recegonize the song from the lyrics alone?  Where’ve you been?  Check the seizure-induced song here (opens new window).

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Urban Dictionary defined.

We were checking out a website called UrbanDictionary.com to look up a certain basic word everyone should know (“antidisestablishmentarianism”), when we made a shocking discovery; Urban Dictionary sucks.  Not in a small, uncertain, barely-noticeable suck like you may think, but a harsh, gasping SUUUCK.  Urban Dictionary is a website so derived of humor that it’s been called “Tubbo’s polar opposite” by a man who will, ahem, remain nameless.  If you’re looking for the funny and exiting definition of a childish and juvenile word, “fart” for example, you have a better chance at laughs by grabbing your Webster dictionary and looking it up there.  Urban Dictionary is about as entertaining as throwing rocks at birds, which sounds awesome, but the damn birds fly away before the rock even hits them!  And Urban Dictionary passes up the oppurtonity to stone birds by making a lame website.  Just as the birds fly away at the smallest sign of a rock, Urban Dictionary takes flight the second a joke threatens to break the monotony (meaning Urban Dictionary blocks it).  For shame!

We decided the Internet needed a good online dictionary and thesauruses (dictionary.com sucks almost as badly as Urban Dictionary), so we thought to ourselves, “who would make the best candidates for writing an online dictionary?”  Then it came to us; ourselves!  For the good of the Internet, we’ve made a mini-dictionary right here on the Tubbo site.  You can thank us through donations; sure, PayPal works, but for maximum convenience, you can just email us your credit card number and you’re good to go.  One major difference between our site and Urban Dictionary is how we’re not letting our viewers take over by making their own definitions; we know you guys are talentless, and we accept it.  We’ll be handling all the writing and the creativity, because we’re awesome like that.  And to get this study-buddy party going (to think, we make things like literary fun and acceptable), we’ll define . . .

Urban Dictionary:

A crappy website with crappy users and a crappy interface.  They define crappy as “something of shoddy quality.”  We define it as “Urban Dictionary.”

We’ve been boycotting Urban Dictionary ever since its begun running itself into the ground; users make the worst definitions, mistaking the site for a place to whine about drivel, losers, and politics (a dirty harry is NOT a politician, shut the hell up!).  If you type in “jfffksjdhgiohdfa” into Urban Dictionary (we slammed our fist on the keyboard three times and that’s what came up; damn, now our keyboards broke . . . thanks a lot, Urban Dictionary), we guarantee something sexual (and, uh, likely crappy) will come up.

For the record, we’ve made one definition on Urban Dictionary, not that it deserved our genius to grace it’s site anyway, and that was the definition of “Tubbo.”  Urban Dictionary decided it couldn’t handle the awesomness of our definition and deleted it.  Their loss.

Idiot – “Dude, check out this website I made!”
Cool Man Luke – “Dude, that website is such an Urban Dictionary.”

_____________________________

Pull A Sssaam:

1.) To get away with theft, plagiarism, and/or murder & 2.) to be followed or admired as a God by simple minded tweens despite idiocy and lack of talent at life.

1.) Idiot – “Awesome, I just robbed a bank, stole an amazing idea for a widget, and ran my Grandma over — and I got away with it all.”
Cool Man Luke – “Screw you, fag, you’re totally pulling a Sssaam.

2.) Idiot – “OMG, I love Miley Cyrus!”
Cool Man Luke – “Yeah right, she’s pulling a Sssaam.”

_____________________________

Ownded:

Own (e.g. to annihilate), past tense.  Losers and nerds spell “own” (past tense) as “owned,” and technically that’s grammatically correct, but these days, is it cool to be grammatically correct?  Hell freakin’ no!  These days, it’s cool to be spellin’ words weirded out yo, and the ‘ing’ thin’?   That’s stupid.  It’s cooler to take off the “g” and replace with an apostrophe ‘.  Walkin’, talkin’, lockin’, all without a “g!”  How ballin’ is that?

Oh, and ownded is just as cool as droppin’ the “g”, so quit being a retard and saying “owned,” it sucks.

Idiot – “Haha, Sssaam owned that froob Tubbo.” 
Cool Man Luke – “Wow, you really are an idiot, aren’t you?  One, it’s ‘ownded’, and two, Sssaam was ownded by Tubbo.”
Idiot – “Sorry master.”
Cool Man Luke – “Shuddup.”

_____________________________

Hip:

A word used by the tragically unhip to describe what’s cool or what’s in (“ownded,” for example, is “in”).  If you have ever used to the word “hip” to describe coolness, you know for certain that you are not hip, in any sense of the word.

Far cooler synonyms:

With it, groovy, 79in’, crazy, in the know, sound.

Note:

It’s acceptable to use “hip” if you end it with “. . . to the jive”.  Example: “those gangstas are so hip to the jive.”

Idiot – “Look at those gangstas over there!  They’re so hip!”
Cool Man Luke – “…To the jive?”
Idiot – “Huh?  I said they were hip!”
Cool Man Luke – “You’ll never be with it . . .”

_____________________________

Scene-tacky-lar:

An insult intended to be used on scensters, cool-cats, and all that is “emo.”  Pronounced “scene-tacular,” only with emphasis on the “tacky” part.  All it means is that scene kids (or basically anything you think sucks) are tacky, or more accurately, totally screwed up.  Use it when someone thinks they’re being stylish or trendy, but their actually just making douches of themselves.

Idiot – “Like these new tight jeans I bought at Hot Topic?”
Cool Man Luke – “Sure, they’re scene-tacky-lar.”

That’s about it.  Unlike Urban Dictionary, we don’t need 17 billion definitions to be happy.  Maybe we’ll update this page in the future, but don’t count on it.  You’d better bookmark it a few times anyway, just to be safe.  If you need more insults or quotes, click here (new window) for and oldie-but-goodie Tubbo post.

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Amazon; the way to a screwed up future.

A few days ago, we decided to abandon our previous boycotts of Amazon, eBay, and all other online stores, which was originally spurred by all online stores sucking so badly. When Amazon was first invented, we knew how horrible it was gonna be, and we were right; it totally sucks. We told all our neighbor’s, “don’t use Amazon! It’s the work of the Devil! And not a cool work of the Devil like bombs or torture devices, but an evil work of the Devil, like television and tapioca pudding!” but no one listened to us. They kept using Amazon, and you know what? It’s taken over. Everyone’s a brainwashed moron incapable of thought, and although that doesn’t sound too different than days before Amazon, it’s gotten worse. Nobody goes out of their homes anymore because they can get what they need from Amazon at a lower price. On the surface, Amazon sounds pretty good, right? Cheap prices, connivence; who could argue against those things? . . . We could, because when you look into the CEO of Amazon (click here for image of true boss behind Amazon, opens new window) and the corporation as a whole, you’ll see the true evil suckiness of it all. So if you want to sell your soul to the entire Amazon crew for some shanty merchandise, fine, go ahead, but we prefer to take our chances outdoors in the real world. You are all mindless tools for using it. Screw you Amazon, and screw you Amazon users! Now excuse us while we order two dozen flat-screen TVs off some seller on Amazon.

Yep, that’s right, after months of rallying against Amazon, we broke down. Which kinda makes all of the above BS. Our greed for material things overcame our hate for Amazon, and we ordered a buttload of TVs that we didn’t need off Amazon. As you can see, the brainwashing got to us for a few minutes. That’s okay though, because rallying was boring. If people are gonna support evil, we might as well too, seeing as we’re likely more evil than any of them. We ordered two dozen TVs, and we aren’t ashamed to admit it. They’ll probably sit in the garage forever because we already have too many TVs in the house, but we don’t care! We have more money than we know can spend, but what else can we do? Give it to the needy? Haha! We’ll be damned if we give it to the poor! It’s their fault they don’t have money to spend on frivolous items such as food and shelter (or even the necessities like TVs and computers), and helping them only justifies their poorness. So, in a way, we’re helping poor hobos when we write checks to them that bounce because we don’t have money in our banking account (we withdraw all the money before we write the checks). Get their hopes up, then knock them down, that’s what we say.

So instead of wasting money on people who truly need it (get your own money, freaky hobo), we ordered a bunch of TVs off Amazon. We got an email notice from Amazon (we love getting mail from those “do-not-reply@whatever.com” so we can reply to them, usually asking why we shouldn’t reply) saying that they should be shipped and at our house no later than the 15th of July. Now we know better, those lying, thieving bastards. We waited for (near) weeks, hoping and praying that our TVs would ship soon. The 15th came and went without any sign of our TVs. We got really depressed, and started wearing black clothing instead of our favorite colour, brown. Then we started having tantrums and crying a lot, but it was all for attention, just like any average “emo.” They aren’t depressed, they just want attention because they’re Amazon order didn’t come on time. Amazon is obviously to blame for human misery, although emos probably have something to do with it too. If you ever see someone like that, kick them in the shins and give them a broken nose for us.

It was the 17th, and there was still no sign of our TVs. We had starting formulating a plan to get back at Amazon for getting our hopes up and knocking us down (how could someone be so evil?), most of the plan involving nuclear fusion, when out our window, we saw what seemed to be a flicker of light at the end of a dark, hopeless tunnel; a Fed Ex truck that seemed to be turning onto our street! “How droll, dearest Dubba Tubba! An automobile, and it seems to be abutting into our proximity!” were Tubbo’s exact words. Sorta. But it was coming closer, and there wasn’t a doubt in either of our minds that we’d be redeemed with TVs any second. Closer . . . Closer . . . Closer still. And then the Fed Ex truck stopped right in front of our house! We got our Thank-You card ready for the delivery man (inside was a $100,000,000 check, because we had drained our account a few days ago), and watched from the window as the delivery man got out, went to the back of his truck, and came back carrying a single, tiny package. He walked toward our house, then turned around and walked away from us to our neighbors. The very same neighbors who we explicitly told not to use Amazon. They didn’t listen to us; why didn’t they listen to us? And now they get their order first! Dammit! What is that? Who the hell is in charge of Amazon?! We know for damn certain that we ordered our TV before they ordered whatever the hell they ordered (doesn’t matter what it is because it isn’t a TV), and we know that because of spy-wear we hooked up they’re computer. So what is Amazon’s excuse? Nothing! Crap! Crap! CRAP!

Then the Fed Ex guy got back into his truck and revved the engine a few times, making fun of our despair no doubt. That pissed us off, so we dashed out of the house leaving the Thank-You card behind; the only thing this guy was getting was a mouthful of hippo fart.

But the trucker was already going 70MPH, in a 20MPH school area no less; he hit three kids and a dude in a wheelchair. We had no chance of catching him. We leaped for the truck, only to tumble into our neighbor’s (the loser neighbors who got their order before us for reasons we don’t know) front lawn. We caught a glimpse of the Fed Ex truck, which seemed to be on fire as demons laughed and Satan gave the Fed Ex dude a thumbs up. Then we saw the neighbors; they were the oldest people we’ve ever saw. Seriously, they had wrinkles on their wrinkles, and their dentures had cavities. Together, the couple opened their little package. Unwrapped, we saw what they had ordered; a little musical box. They wound it up, and it played a little song, and the old couple starting crying. We thought they wanted attention or something, but they weren’t wearing black. Seeing that “beautiful” scene made us angrier then we’ve been for a long time (like, in two days). Amazon and an old couple thinks a little musical box, regardless of sentimental value, is more important than 24 TVs? We could blame Amazon for it, but we choose to blame the old people. Old people are the crappiest animals in the world, more so than buffalos (we hate buffalos). They aren’t real people; mere beasts, although they don’t deserve to be compared to hippos. Old people deserve to be shipped by a Fed Ex truck to some desert island. They uselessly leech of society with their little social-security checks until the day they die (which is why sometimes we speed the process up), and require more time and energy than Sarah Palin does using the bathroom. We hate every last one of them! Get rid of them! If they want their crap off Amazon before us, fine, but it’ll cost them more than they intended. Which is why we went over and grabbed the music box out of the old wife’s hand. We set it on the ground, and then we sat on it. We heard the crinkle of glass, and the song stopped. Then we went over to the old people, by now they were crying real tears, and we spat in their face. Then we went home.

We still haven’t gotten our TVs yet. Someone out there hates us. We can’t imagine why.

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Reasons not to email us.

We’ve been getting a lot of BS emails lately.  Then when we reply to them/post them on the site/disregard them for the crap they are, the sender gets all hissy-pissy on us.  It’s getting to the point where we don’t know what the hell to do with them!  We thought about asking our lame-ass audience how they want us to respond to the mindless babble we receive daily (and it’s starting to effect us in negative ways; our doctor says that our average anger level is an 11 out of 10, but after reading our emails from the site, it’s gets up to around a 35), but then we thought, “why should they be in charge of how we respond to our technical property?”  Yeah, that’s right fools, our property.  As soon as you hit the “Send” button, we own your email, along with your soul and your first born.  We clearly stated on the Contact page that by sending your email, you agree to the terms and conditions we haven’t written yet.  On those terms and condtions that haven’t been written, we clearly state that by sending us your email, it becomes the property of mods Tubbo and Dubba Tubba (that’s us for all you slowwitted fans out there, and judging by the emails we’ve been getting, that’s quite a bit of you).  So it’s our property.  We own it.  We own you (+soul, first born, etc. etc. etc.)  Don’t like that or any of the other regulations not yet stated?  Don’t know what to do?  Feel lost and alone?  Then don’t send the damn email!  Trust us, we aren’t dying to hear from any of you.  We don’t care about you.  You don’t exist to us.  Some of you seem to be under the impression that we’ve been waiting next to the computer all night every night, hoping for that one email from retard133@aol.com or poophead69@gmail.com.  We aren’t.  We’re better off without talking to you.  The less we hear from you guys, the happier we’ll be.

Yet, for reasons beyond us and Albert Einstein, some of you will insist on emailing us.  We’ve been as cold-hearted and blunt as we can, but we know that won’t stop the flood of emails we’ll be receiving.  Maybe your attention span is just so non-existent that you’ve already forgotten that we’ve DIScouraged emailing us.  The only thing we haven’t done to prevent future emails from you guys is write “DO NOT EMAIL US, IDIOTS,” in big red letters.  Speaking of which . . .

DO NOT EMAIL US, IDIOTS.

. . . And yet, in our small and feeble hearts, we know we’ll got more emails.  So, to our benefit as well as yours, we’re putting up a list of reasons why you shouldn’t email us.  It’s to your benefit so you can decided whether or not to email us.  It’s to our benefit so that we don’t have to go to so many anger management classes.

 1. You’ve just been mortally offended by one of our articles.

This translates to “you’ve just had your worthless feelings hurt by ‘the big bad Tubbo’ and you feel obligated to defending your bullcrap morals by sending an email to strangers over the Internet preaching about how ‘old people shouldn’t be sent off to remote islands’/’kids shouldn’t be lit on fire’/’Yahoo! Enterprises shouldn’t be bombed’.”  We get it, we offended you.  We just don’t care.  We actually have an amazing solution to this particular problem that doesn’t involve emailing us.  Get ready because here it comes; quit reading our articles!  If you feel offended by this site, stop visiting!  See?  See?  Problem solved!  God bless America!

 2. You’ve spotted a huge-a-normous spelling/grammar error.

Every so often we get an email from an aspiring literary major (that, or a boring 30-year-old who needs to get out a bit more) who spots a hugomungus spelling and/or grammar error on one of our pages and feels the need to email us about it.  The first problem with emailing us over something like this is that we don’t make mistakes.  We are perfeckt, and if have nveer made a spelling mistace in all our live.  If fact, we’ve never made a mistake of any sort, ever.  Mortals can’t comprehend our perfection and assume we make mistakes.  They’re wrong, we don’t.  If you see a spelling mistake anywhere on this or any other page, it was intentional.  We probably just wanted to screw with your mind, which we admit we do often.  But make an unintentional spelling error?  Unpossible.

 3. You are a spam-bot.

Any spammers out there today?  It’s okay if you are; you can tell us.  We won’t make fun of you, we won’t block your IP Address . . . We just don’t want you emailing us.  Unlike most people, we don’t like spam, so if there are any spam-bots reading this article today, please don’t send us information about unmarried singles or that one crazy dude who can’t believe he’s doing this (whatever “this” is, we never read far enough into the spam to find out what he was doing) on Father’s Day, Easter, Kwanza, Terrorist Day, and whatever other holiday he’s crazy enough to spam on, but does anyway.  We’re sure those people have quite interesting lives, but we don’t need to hear about them, and if we ever met one of those “interesting” people in public, we couldn’t guarantee they’d make it out alive.  We can guarantee, however, that there face would be quite a bit more “interesting” from that day on.  Click here.  So, if you are a spammer, don’t spam us.  We’ll slice it up and feed it to your children (literally).  If you aren’t sure if the email you are considering sending is spam or not, it probably is, so play it safe and don’t email us.

 4. You need someone to talk to.

Sometimes we get emails from seemingly lonely people who “just need[ed] someone to talk to.”  Often times they sound quite desperate, as if we were the last people they could turn to.  It really pisses us off.  It seems that, being the owners of a popular website, we’re often people’s last resort.  Whether they’re depressed, lonely, or just feeling down, we have one response for all of them:

If you don’t want to get that less-than-happy reply from us, don’t email us about your life or about nothing in general.  Most of the time we don’t even read the whole email, we just send the message.  We don’t want to talk to you.  We hate every last one of you, and when you start emailing us about pointless babble like “I don’t know what to do, I’m considering drastic action”, you cross the line between “average hate” and “full-out loathing”.  So don’t email us.  Oh, and if we really did make someone commit suicide by sending that message . . . Good.

We got the classic four idiots covered right here in this article, so that should be the majority of our emails pre-deleted right here, but we know the torrent of emails won’t stop.  It won’t ever stop.  We suppose putting up with lowlifes and asses is one of the prices we pay for having this website.  Although it’s obviously not worth it, it’s too late to do anything about it now.  And if this page stopped just one idiot from sending us an email, it was worth it.

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A game of cat burning, ruined by a pussy & his wife.

It was a bright Wednesday morning, so warm outside that we felt we just couldn’t justify sitting indoors playing video games all day (which is unusual for us, because usually we make excuses to why we should be playing video games all day).  We decided that weather like this called for a session of one of our favorite games in the whole world; cat burning!  That’s where we go down to the pound, adopt five or six cats (“Oh sure ma’am, we’ll give these cats a great home,” snicker snicker snicker), then light them on fire in our backyard for kicks.  Hold your judgments, prudes, because our game is all in fun, and no one really gets hurt . . . ‘Septs the cats.

We were half way through our greatest session of cat burning ever; the backyard smelt of burnt fur, little cats were desperately attempting a primitive version of “Stop, Drop, & Roll” (and failing quit miserably), and we were laughing our heads off, when all of a sudden our neighbor popped his head over the fence, saw what was going on (we always knew he was a pussy), and started yelling something that sounded like “what are you doing?  You can’t do that,” although it was hard to understand with all the saliva and BS he was spewing.  We told him to calm down before he had a seizure, which was a valid concern because he had been diagnosed with a mild case of epilepsy, but for some reason, he didn’t calm down.  He just kinda got angrier.  He started walking over to us, assumedly to save the few cats who weren’t yet on fire, or maybe to yell at us some more, but we remembered what Bill told us about solicitors, and how should one come into our yard, we should politely ask them to leave.  We decided to try that technique on our neighbor who could be considered a solicitor by definition (although our words weren’t exactly “polite”), but he didn’t stop.  So one of us, Dubba Tubba, walked up to him, pretending like all he was gonna do was “talk” to him . . . little did he know he was about to get his crap ruined.  As soon Dubba Tubba got into range,  BOOM!  Dubba Tubba kicked him in the balls!  Unfortunately for the neighbor, Dubba Tubba had been wearing cleats that day.  POP-POP!  Now the neighbor, kneeling helpless on the ground, was at Dubba Tubba’s mercy.  Dubba Tubba knew this, so he gave him a sharp uppercut to the chin, then elbowed him in that little place in your stomach that really hurts to be elbowed whose name we can’t remember.  Our nieghbor lay on our lawn, dead, and we were about to go back to our game of cat burning (maybe we could burn the corpse too, just so there wasn’t any evidence) but the neighbor’s wife, who was a total hag, saw the whole thing and started sobbing “what have you done to my husband?” although it was hard to tell words from sobs and complaints.  Already we knew where this was going, so we decided to end it before it began.  We both picked up one of the freshly lit cats and chucked them at our neighbor’s wife, who promptly started burning, quite harshly, because ugly always conducts fire.

Now we had a man with a receding hairline groaning and clutching his groin in our yard, and an ugly lady screeching at the top of her lungs on fire next door.  We obviously couldn’t finish our game of cat burning now, and thinking about that made us even madder, so went over to the neighbor’s lawn, because it was time for revenge.  We were planning to go inside their house to break some of their expensive china, but the neighbor’s little boy, who had been watching the whole thing from his little sandbox in back, came up and kicked us in the shin.  We looked down at him and saw little tears in his eyes, maybe from witnessing his parents deaths, but we aren’t sure.  So we picked him up, and punted him like a little football into China.  The neighbor’s wife, still on fire, saw this, started choking from shock and anger, and died.  We started walking back to our house, feeling our work was done (we also made sure to walk on our neighbor’s face on our way back).  We’re still angry, though.  We never got to finish our game of cat burning.  Oh well, there’s always next Wednesday.

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