Thoughts of the, er, year?

The Illogicopedia is going through a lean patch right now, but there's some good news - we're back online, baby! Or not, depending on when you're reading this. Consider the following image:


Here, Illogicopedia is the poorly-attired bullfighter attempting to prevent the inevitable attack of server saboteurs, represented by the bull. The blokes in orange are not relevant - their appearance in this image can be compared to Petr Cech's contribution to Euro 2012. That is, fleeting and largely pointless peripheral fumbling. (Sorry Testicles.)

In other, more relevant news, Uncyclopedia is now age restricted. For vague proof, see the below image, which (for a change) is in no way a propaganda Photoshop.

You'll be pleased to know there are no such measures in place at Illogicopedia, so if you're under the age of 13, breathe a sigh of relief. However, in the unlikely event of us adopting restrictions at any point in the future, always carry an adult for when you decided to visit the site.

Hey, I just noticed something. What happened to the Random Page link on the sidebar? I used to use that all the time. Meh.

Anyway, it's time for me to go. My captors allow 1 hour of supervised internet access per day, and I have but minutes left. There's hardly time for me to check my pay-per-click account and spam the Spanish embassy site with rude messages, so I must flyyyyyyy!

*Attempts to fly, but smashes into wall*

Monopoly.......hours of fun or torture?

Yesterday, my whiny pobrecita of a niece was begging me to play the world's most famous board game with her..... that one with the guy with the funny top hat on the box...... the one that breaks many Supreme Court decisions..... that one? Ah, forget it. I'll look at the top of my post. Monopoly, eh?

I broke out the board only to find that my niece was too busy talking to her boyfriend of the millisecond to play the game she begged me to play with her. Soon after that, he threatened to break my nose when I told her to get off the phone. She (eventually) did, and we started to play. I was none other than the money sack, to symbolize greedy crapitalism. She was the dog, because it was oh-so-cute!

We played for hours on end, accumulating money that you would be tasered for if you tried to spend anywhere else, and streets in Bruce Springsteen's homestate. Bruce would be so proud as I bought the boardwalk, where he probably made out with that prom queen or whatever on.

Anyway, when playing this aging classic, I realized a central truth: Technology is a beautiful new innovation. Because being the Banker took a lot out of me, as it was way too much math. I responded by buying the computer version of Monopoly.

Robots are going to take over the world as we're too lazy to do this crap ourselves. We will rely on these things to take showers, eat, brush our teeth, and just about everything else. If the power goes out during the storm, we're screwed. Good night, and bad luck.

Retractable Landing Gear Week

They want us to be distracted.  We're all stupid to them.  We don't lust after the Benz, the private jet... the social games... so, we must be stupid.  So, they make sure we only get to choose the most stupid of the stupid.

There was a time when having a university degree conveyed a good likelihood that you were somewhat well-read, and could manage to discuss things a bit more crucial to the advancement of the species than Budweiser and what the kids want on TV.

We're in a sad state.  What do you want me to tell you?  That being said, we've always been in a sad state.  The pressures I complain of are simply inevitable.  If it weren't this, it would be that.

That being said, I recommend celebrating Retractable Landing Gear Week with aplomb and ashram.  Be classy, tell your neighbor their yard looks nice, wear a tight corset, tutu, gas mask, cowboy hat and cover yourself in Wesson Oil.

We're famous!

The bible of mental disorders, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition (DSM-IV), will list a new disorder in the next month's publication.  Illogicopedic Surreality Syndrome AKA Bull Goose Loony Syndrome, a condition brought on by prolonged exposure to Illogicopedia, will be defined as, "a condition whereby the patient experiences articles read at the Illogicopedia wiki web site as a substitute for the "real world". Some symptoms include atypical drooling, incessant reading of Illogicopedia articles, snorting coffee grounds and attempting to use the sphincter as a musical instrument (particularly in imitation of French Horn or mandolin).

Readers should be aware that they might even now be under the influence of Illogicopedicism, and headed down the corridor to a cell, where you get a special jacket and lots of jello.  I don't want to scare anybody, but I'm getting the hell out of the country before the really bad stuff starts.  Good night, and good luck.

27,000 smackers down the pan. Cheers, Wikipedia

Dear Wikimedia Foundation,

It's all your fault. Why did you have to crash mere hours before my final paper on Advanced Illiteracy? My whole university education is riding on your provision of articles 24/7 for me to copy-paste into this 200-word preparatory dissertation, and you can't even function correctly?

Refer to the below image as incontrovertible proof of your misdeeds.


Because of your incontinence incompetence, I shall most likely fail and resort to utilising Illogicopedia as a source. It will get me a higher grade, but it's hardly worth it when you're reduced to nicking poorly constructed jokes from a bunch of college drop-outs with a grasp of humour that would make even [name removed] wince. And I hate that idiot. Always rambling on about how it's his predecessor's fault and he's the greatest thing since the portable particle accelerator.

As compensation, I suggest you employ me to research and insert 'facts' to prominent articles. I demand five times minimum wage or my head lecturer will hear about it. And you know who that is? Well, neither do I, but he has some pretty high-ranking contacts in the world of server sabotage, or something.

Consider this a threat,

Peter T. Pearson Esq.