Scorned Acorns Boycotts Wikipedia (very) Temporarily

- How may we help you today?

"I've a question about a particular set of rules on the popular site 'Wikipedia'?"

- Go ahead sir.

"It has come to my attention that there exists a qualification process for musicians to be recognized and therefore deemed 'worthy' to occupy space on said webpage"

- Is there a question here, sir?

"Why does there exist a qualification process to deem music recognizable and therefore worthy of mention?"

- I am not sure the specifics of that which you inquire.

"http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Article_wizard/Musical_notability"

- Self explanatory, no?

"Enlighten me further"

- Well, it's quite simple. And stated straightforwardly in the link you have posted. Have you read the article in question?

"I have. But my query was, and remains, unanswered"

- The specifics as to why are simple. We cannot afford to convolute our site with stubs and articles referencing artists beyond the scope of common media. 

"Convolute? A bit heavy, no? Am I to understand that an impartial third-party 'encyclopedia' is to justifiably exclude a self-proclaimed >99% of potential musical interest?"

- It's written quite clearly on the page in question, sir. I'm not sure I am able to further assist your badgering inquiry.

"I have but one more question for you."

- Being?

"Why am I talking to myself through both parties in this conversation?"

- You're tired.



Scene.

Scorned Acorns keeps it flowing.

Alright, these things never fucking work.

Sprinklers.

Just flood the base, ruining any and every bit of plant life around, can't even jump through that shit hoping for childlike nostalgia. 

If you have a sprinkler that actually works. Give it here.

-Acorned

Scorned Acorns found out how it really happened.

The Bible According to Rich (World vs Richard)

 Genesis 1:1

And God, feeling a little clumsy, doth tripped upon his own feet, and as he fell, he felt the creation of the big bang. His leg, now broken, he decided it was time to put the team on his back, doe, and 12 billion years later, the earth was created. God created all the animals, but was annoyed with the apes, who spent much of their time throwing doth feces at each other, and the entirety of Eden.  Fed up, God struck down an especially unruly pair of apes, and with this strike, evolution was born. Or so he thought. Rather, evolution was realized. He strolled through the garden, thinking to himself, Hell, this is a pretty neat place. AND HELL WAS CREATED. God spent the remainder of his time upon the earth telling everyone he met that he was He. Creator, realizer, and most importantly, High on methamphetamines.   

The Bible According to Pat (Skullduggery):

Genesis 1.1

And God, looking down upon a vast empty space containing little more than a hard, dense lump of absolutely everything, said, "Let there be lots of stuff." And so came the Big Bang. God looked upon his creation and said, "Holy shit, thats a lot of stuff. A finite distance containing infinite possibility!" And ten billion years later the earth was created, mostly by accident.

Unbeknownst to God, Earth slowly blossomed and life flourished. Sophisticated beasts strolled its many fecund forests and sweeping vistas.

God, still treading his ever immense range in awe at its diversity and potential, stumbled upon Earth. Literally. The violent impact of Gods broad boot lifted high the waves of the oceans, wetting even the tip of the highest peak, and drowning all caught exposed upon dry land. Yet, a few drenched lifeforms did remain; most lucky enough to have struck out on various floating vessels for varying reasons (also, fish remained generally intact). It was from these piddling, waterlogged few (and only after many years of genetic trial and error) that came a thickly wooled man named Adam and a rather incipient woman named Eve and pretty well everyone else.

Scorned Acorns is anti-email.

Picture this:
You wake up,
You stretch, maybe scratch, maybe pull up some pajama pants and rub your right eye a little to find that there is a little crusty in there you might need to get out,
You make that click sound with your tongue against the roof of your mouth, which you then think is something you do only because its been indoctrinated as something people do when they wake up by TV sources,
You decide its too early for this deep an internal discussion and move on towards the bathroom to pick up your toothpaste.

Now what is the last thing you want to see?
Some bullshit forcing its beliefs on you, right? A label forcing its rigid convictions down your throat?

Well then what the fuck is this:

Fuck Email.
-Acorned

Scorned Acorns couldn't decide whether to use 'gripes' or a clever twist of the word 'grapes' in the opening line, so put them both here instead

Hello baby corns,

Although the title alone just about suffices my recently commissioned daily writing quota, there's a much larger vat of bubbling blood on the metaphorical stove that was my computer screen a few minutes ago.

 

(Rhetorical) In your tender adolescence, did you make an internet boo-boo that is ceaselessly echoing through the halls of your adult life?

I did. And it was a doozy.

I should start by saying the true opprobrium lies within my refusal to delete music. Armed with this knowledge even as a child, I still went well beyond my better judgement and I downloaded a fucking Helloween discography. My iTunes is now the shamed bearer of 42(!) Helloween albums.

If I could turn back the hands of time, and rectify just one mistake, equipped with the infallible foresight of hindsight, would I rush back to that awkward moment shortly after I had heard the song Halloween for the first time and thought "fuck yeah, I could totally use 462 more of their songs" and wipe the slate clean? Probably not. Seems like an awful waste of precious time travel.

Just once, I would like to retain the ability to lazily scroll between Hellhammer and Hellsaw without coasting tiresomely past 2.44 GB of music I probably don't feel like listening to.

 

 Fuck you Pink Bubbles Go Ape.

I shouldn't be too harsh I suppose. I do, after all, enjoy 8 or 9 of these songs...

I think my real issue with Helloween lies more in their refusal to placate my desires for another song in the vein of Hey Lord!. Somewhere between album number 1 and 72 (yes, thank whatever it is I believe in I don't own them all), they figured it would be best to write the lone sublime pseudo-ballad, ultimately leading me to clamber for years through the hollow crypts of albums like fucking Pink Bubbles Go Ape in the now splintered hopes of finding but a glimmer of musical fecundity. The only track I can muster the courage to solicit as having dipped the same christening waters is If I Could Fly. And I'm pretty sure I'm basing that entirely off of how good that song is at being great.   

All things considered, few bands have so successfully pulled off the drawn pilgrimage of three distinct eras of mediocrity with three very distinct front-men.

-acorned

Best read listening to "Halloween" by Helloween

Scorned Acorns continues getting off topic and jogs lazily to the end

Been a bit lazy with my writing lately it would seem, and Scorned Acorns certainly hasn't been spared from the apathetic yawn of accepting things for what they are. So, instead of caring any longer about the intermittence of my postings (which usually consist of a few slipshod pictures courtesy Google Images and an anorexic description that probably reads more like the "shake well before opening" label on my juice box than anything of substance anyway), I feel we could all benefit from digging just a teensy bit deeper into the choleric mind of an SA author.

Without further ado, I give you:

A Picture List of Things Drawing Scorned Acorns' Ire

Although I can't imagine I would find much of anything worth pursuing in this book, it's not the agent of my irascible disposition, but more the title that grabbed me; "Things We Can't Untie". More commonly known as stubborn fucking knots. Nothing makes me more self-conscious of my chubby fingers than their inability to weasel between the unyielding bind of my manly-tightened shoelaces.

Fuck unnecessarily long receipts. The whole "What a waste of paper! Save the planet! Quit smoking!" argument aside, what is the point of half of this thing (that is to say, the Safeway receipt [not pictured above] I have strategically placed beside me). It measures 62cm (24.4in) in length. Two fucking feet! Who gives a mousefart about my 3 AIR MILES. That shits alright by me, don't get me wrong, I just don't need to see how few you are going to let trickle down through the cage of my not being able to afford a vacation.

Metric measuring tapes. Fuck. Again, don't get me wrong, I stand sword in hand beside the metric system, but life doesn't. So when I'm sitting there needing an 18 3/4in length of pvc and I pick up a metric tape, fuck that. The other half isn't doing anything anyway, throw some imperial garble on there.

"Wait, what? You don't like slow cookers?"

Fuck you, of course I like slow cookers, don't ask me stupid shit. I just couldn't care less about the awkward pissing contest they inevitably beget. 

"Had my stew in for six hours today" Cool bro.

"Chopped up some veggies and hashbrowns, threw them in the ole slow, went to bed, woke up to breakfast!" Oh yeah? Good shit man

""Ten hours today! Can you believe that! Ten!" Fuck you stop it.

This picture is fucking great. Prince Harry for president!

God damn Kimbo is awesome. 

So is this.

And Phil Collins too.

Simon isn't. Fuck that game. 

The end. 

Best read listening to Good Vibrations by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch

Scorned Acorns explores The Underground Shelter Network for Long-Term Survival of Future Catastrophes

2012.

Has a nice ring to it. Just bleeds futuristic doesn't it. Twenty twelve.

Well, four weeks have passed in the countdown to the apocalypse (and in turn our impending demise), but honestly, not much has happened. Bottled water is, as of yet, readily available, concrete and steel aren't in waning supply (as the more level-headed folk rush to erect themselves a lasting "apocalypse-proof" living quarters), and last I checked, Crappy Tire still has a range of generators in stock. Hell, canned goods are still bobbing in and out of sale at every local supermarket. I, personally, am saving up thirty-some thousand american dollars for a spot in one of those ostentatious Vivos doomsday bunkers. Asteroid and nuke proof! Amenities include: swanky lounges, a bakery, deluxe bedrooms, dental facilities, a medical center, pet-pampering services, a fully stocked wine cellar, a Cryovault containing the reproductive cells and DNA of humans and animals for Earths re-population, and even a prison should evacuees become unruly! Couldn't imagine a better way to spend five figures.

Wait, what? They are building it in Nebraska? Fuck that I'd rather spend my post-apocalypse days haunting survivors than drinking champagne and eating fresh baked (corn) bread beneath fucking Nebraska.

I must say, Vivos really does have a compelling site. Offering protection from (but not limited to):

- Nuclear War
- Bio War
- Terrorism (Although the video left it out, the website features a nice Clipart airplane as its avatar for terrorism. Is that really the accepted representation of terrorism? Is that truly what people imagine when they see an airplane overhead? Remember the days when an airplane represented all the dreams and aspirations of youth? Eyes wide in awe as it soared above, seeming to defy all reason before disappearing behind the clouds. Wonder if kids are aspiring to be Vivos employees nowadays)
- Anarchy (Thought this said Antichrist. Was a little thrown by the anarcho-punk encircled A)
- Electromagnetic Pulse
- Solar Flares
- Pole Shift
- "Killer Comet"
- Global Tsunami
- Planet X
- Super Volcano (Volumes I through III)


I can't help but feel the last few were plucked from a long lost Harry Turtledove manuscript. And Killer Comet? Seriously? 

All things considered, I think the Hopi and Mayans were just pulling our once-oppressive legs.

-scorned

p.s. http://www.terravivos.com/

Scorned Acorns on Anonymous Comments

We recently received a comment:

"How much to buy?"

by an anonymous donor.

Why thank you, we here at Scorned Acorns appreciate any and all feedback, and would love to sell, whatever it is we are selling. Unfortunately, it appears you have failed to leave a mailing address, and/or your credit card info in order for us to bill you for it. I figure about 75 dollars in rolled Turkish Lira will do. or dew. You may send us 75 L of mountain dew if that is your chosen currency of course, however I'll have to check the refrigerator space here at the Scorned Acorns headquarters, as that it may not all fit unless I throw out some old moldy ground beef which i was planning on creating chili with a couple days ago.

Looking forward to our business deal,
-Acorned.