will it blend? (for onnesha)
(note: most of the youtube quotes in this piece are real)
there once was a doctor — a real doctor, certified — who invented the best blender in the whole world. it was a really good blender. it could pretty much blend anything you could think of: papayas, mittens, pork bones, whatever.
the doctor went about selling his blender. he went to a local department store, and they were like, "sure. you can set up over there." it was a weekend. there were a shit ton of people in the store.
"step right up!" the doctor said, that sort of practiced, circusy salesman kinda voice. "get a look at the best blender in the world!"
the people were skeptical, but also curious. "what makes it so good?" they asked, a mix of skeptical and curious in their voice. they'd seen their fair share of blenders before — this morning in the kitchen, in fact. but still — no point in passing up the world's best blender, if indeed that's what it was.
"what makes it so good?" they said, because they'd already forgotten they just asked that.
"why, it can blend anything!" the doctor spread his arms wide to indicate this! that! anything in the world! it was the jesus of blenders! he was the jesus of doctors (certified)!
"can it blend... this?" a lady whipped a granola bar out of her bag.
the granola bar? reduced to granola flavored powder!
"how about this?" a man said, and held up his watch. the watch gleamed in the store lights, and then was chopped into fine once-watch parts.
"ooh!" the people oohed.
"aah!" the people aahed.
they were deeply, profoundly impressed.
it really was the best blender in the whole wide world.
a home channely kind of network got wind of the news. the doctor had been moving blenders like metal hot cakes, which the blender could also blend.
"come be on our network!" the network people said. they did that excited coaxy network thing with their voice.
but the doctor did not need coaxing. this was, after all, his big blending chance.
he went to the station and they said "we've got you all set up right over there" (the camera, the lights) "but listen," they said in that off-air conspiratorial between-you-and-me network kinda way, "you might find our viewers very discerning. you might find our viewers just a *little* hard to please." they did that thumb and forefinger thing to show just how little, by which they really meant just how much.
indeed, their customers were discerning. they'd buy a sleeved blanket, but only if you threw in one for the dog too. that kind of discerning.
the doctor, though? he couldn't afford to be nervous. nerves could devour him, could ruin his whole career. so he just took that bundle of tummy-tumble troubles and blended 'em right up! (metaphorically speaking, that is.)
"yes, hello." the first caller was all business. (it was three a.m.) "you say your blender can blend anything. i'd like to see it blend a shoe."
"sure!" the doctor said. this was cake. someone handed him a woman's shoe from offstage. it was the best blender in the world, so duh — it blended the shoe right up.
"very good," the caller said, as if handing out awards.
"can it blend rocks?" the next caller asked.
"rocks? no problem!" the doctor said, blending some rocks. he'd blended, like, a billion rocks before.
that day's newspaper, a ceramic mug, a deck of cards, a couple of light-bulbs, a bouquet of glow-in-the-dark sticks — you name it, he blended it.
the network was wildly impressed. it was the most watched pre-dawn show in the history of home-shopping television.
"bravo!" they said, like best friend network chums. cigars were lit and champagne uncorked. someone blended the empty bottles, just for shits and gigs. what a night! good work, everyone!
"but listen," they said, low-voiced, gravel-voiced, this-is-the-real-deal network kind of voice. "we gotta get this thing on the 'net. the 'net's the only way to go."
they meant the internet.
what could the doctor do? of course he had to agree.
so then he was on the net. they set him up with a little recording station, got him his own youtube channel (blendr775). "now listen," they said, and they went like this and leaned in close to his face. "the internet is a very exciting place. the internet is the new frontier. you can strike it rich..." (pause)... "but you can also contract a nasty virus from unclean gold rush whores." they stopped to let the metaphor sink in. "the people on the internet can be hard to please — very hard to please." they had all that chopped rock 3 a.m. doom in their voice.
the doctor wasn't scared. he started with the standards — dollar bills, a baseball, a bunch of pebbles and twigs. and the viewers, at first, were content:
so aewsome
HAHAHA wow that was kinda cool
dude, is there anything that DOESNT blend in this godamn blender?
within the week, though, they became harder to please:
THUMBS DOWN
fake and gay
riiiiight. what is the point of blending an ipad or anything else blended on this channel? just blend some fruit and make a smoothie you dick
they were cruel, they made impossible demands:
this guy has a blender problem when he has sex he thinks about blenders
blend iraq, and while ure at it blend a gold bar
blend a gun
"how about we step it up a notch!" the network said. "we're going the iphone way." they showed him a post from that morning: blend an iphone, douchebag.
an iphone? the doctor thought. douchbag? things seemed to be getting out of hand. if he'd had a wife, she would have agreed.
"stop this madness, steven! it's going too far! those kids are just using you..."
but he didn't have a wife, just a garage full of tools and old blenders and all kinds of blended doo-dads and pieces and parts. the quiet in his house was as thick and unappetizing as blended-up stew.
the iphone went up with a pop and smack. it was smoky, volcanic ash.
blend the bible
blend mein kampf
blend all of justin bieber's cds because nobody likes him
blend a bowling ball, dick
blend a blender blending another blender with all the stuff you blended in the inside blender
"the blender itself?" he cried. "the blender itself won't fit!"
but the people were like *fart noise* like come on, doc! you're not even trying anymore.
what was he going to do? he couldn't refuse them. his reputation was on the line. his reputation stood wide-eyed and gape-mouthed, trembling on the line.
so he did it — he broke the blender up into blend-able parts, put it in another blender, and then hit 'blend.'
there was a long internet pause. no one wrote anything at all. it lasted for a good three minutes, which in internet land is a vast, untarnished eternity, where every gesture drops droopy like this to the horizon, and every word goes shhh and just with its face, with its face alone, makes a sweet, quiet little song.
PLLLPH! **fart noise**
come on, fag boy! blend something real! blend us something we can write home about! blend us your finger, doc. blend us your hand, your foot, your face. blend me a facebook post, you fucking pussy. blend your own heart, "doc." blend your stupid, pussy, bitch-ass, gay, retarded heart.
fuck you. blend your heart.
there once was a doctor — a real doctor, certified — who invented the best blender in the whole world. it was a really good blender. it could pretty much blend anything you could think of: papayas, mittens, pork bones, whatever.
the doctor went about selling his blender. he went to a local department store, and they were like, "sure. you can set up over there." it was a weekend. there were a shit ton of people in the store.
"step right up!" the doctor said, that sort of practiced, circusy salesman kinda voice. "get a look at the best blender in the world!"
the people were skeptical, but also curious. "what makes it so good?" they asked, a mix of skeptical and curious in their voice. they'd seen their fair share of blenders before — this morning in the kitchen, in fact. but still — no point in passing up the world's best blender, if indeed that's what it was.
"what makes it so good?" they said, because they'd already forgotten they just asked that.
"why, it can blend anything!" the doctor spread his arms wide to indicate this! that! anything in the world! it was the jesus of blenders! he was the jesus of doctors (certified)!
"can it blend... this?" a lady whipped a granola bar out of her bag.
the granola bar? reduced to granola flavored powder!
"how about this?" a man said, and held up his watch. the watch gleamed in the store lights, and then was chopped into fine once-watch parts.
"ooh!" the people oohed.
"aah!" the people aahed.
they were deeply, profoundly impressed.
it really was the best blender in the whole wide world.
a home channely kind of network got wind of the news. the doctor had been moving blenders like metal hot cakes, which the blender could also blend.
"come be on our network!" the network people said. they did that excited coaxy network thing with their voice.
but the doctor did not need coaxing. this was, after all, his big blending chance.
he went to the station and they said "we've got you all set up right over there" (the camera, the lights) "but listen," they said in that off-air conspiratorial between-you-and-me network kinda way, "you might find our viewers very discerning. you might find our viewers just a *little* hard to please." they did that thumb and forefinger thing to show just how little, by which they really meant just how much.
indeed, their customers were discerning. they'd buy a sleeved blanket, but only if you threw in one for the dog too. that kind of discerning.
the doctor, though? he couldn't afford to be nervous. nerves could devour him, could ruin his whole career. so he just took that bundle of tummy-tumble troubles and blended 'em right up! (metaphorically speaking, that is.)
"yes, hello." the first caller was all business. (it was three a.m.) "you say your blender can blend anything. i'd like to see it blend a shoe."
"sure!" the doctor said. this was cake. someone handed him a woman's shoe from offstage. it was the best blender in the world, so duh — it blended the shoe right up.
"very good," the caller said, as if handing out awards.
"can it blend rocks?" the next caller asked.
"rocks? no problem!" the doctor said, blending some rocks. he'd blended, like, a billion rocks before.
that day's newspaper, a ceramic mug, a deck of cards, a couple of light-bulbs, a bouquet of glow-in-the-dark sticks — you name it, he blended it.
the network was wildly impressed. it was the most watched pre-dawn show in the history of home-shopping television.
"bravo!" they said, like best friend network chums. cigars were lit and champagne uncorked. someone blended the empty bottles, just for shits and gigs. what a night! good work, everyone!
"but listen," they said, low-voiced, gravel-voiced, this-is-the-real-deal network kind of voice. "we gotta get this thing on the 'net. the 'net's the only way to go."
they meant the internet.
what could the doctor do? of course he had to agree.
so then he was on the net. they set him up with a little recording station, got him his own youtube channel (blendr775). "now listen," they said, and they went like this and leaned in close to his face. "the internet is a very exciting place. the internet is the new frontier. you can strike it rich..." (pause)... "but you can also contract a nasty virus from unclean gold rush whores." they stopped to let the metaphor sink in. "the people on the internet can be hard to please — very hard to please." they had all that chopped rock 3 a.m. doom in their voice.
the doctor wasn't scared. he started with the standards — dollar bills, a baseball, a bunch of pebbles and twigs. and the viewers, at first, were content:
so aewsome
HAHAHA wow that was kinda cool
dude, is there anything that DOESNT blend in this godamn blender?
within the week, though, they became harder to please:
THUMBS DOWN
fake and gay
riiiiight. what is the point of blending an ipad or anything else blended on this channel? just blend some fruit and make a smoothie you dick
they were cruel, they made impossible demands:
this guy has a blender problem when he has sex he thinks about blenders
blend iraq, and while ure at it blend a gold bar
blend a gun
"how about we step it up a notch!" the network said. "we're going the iphone way." they showed him a post from that morning: blend an iphone, douchebag.
an iphone? the doctor thought. douchbag? things seemed to be getting out of hand. if he'd had a wife, she would have agreed.
"stop this madness, steven! it's going too far! those kids are just using you..."
but he didn't have a wife, just a garage full of tools and old blenders and all kinds of blended doo-dads and pieces and parts. the quiet in his house was as thick and unappetizing as blended-up stew.
the iphone went up with a pop and smack. it was smoky, volcanic ash.
blend the bible
blend mein kampf
blend all of justin bieber's cds because nobody likes him
blend a bowling ball, dick
blend a blender blending another blender with all the stuff you blended in the inside blender
"the blender itself?" he cried. "the blender itself won't fit!"
but the people were like *fart noise* like come on, doc! you're not even trying anymore.
what was he going to do? he couldn't refuse them. his reputation was on the line. his reputation stood wide-eyed and gape-mouthed, trembling on the line.
so he did it — he broke the blender up into blend-able parts, put it in another blender, and then hit 'blend.'
there was a long internet pause. no one wrote anything at all. it lasted for a good three minutes, which in internet land is a vast, untarnished eternity, where every gesture drops droopy like this to the horizon, and every word goes shhh and just with its face, with its face alone, makes a sweet, quiet little song.
PLLLPH! **fart noise**
come on, fag boy! blend something real! blend us something we can write home about! blend us your finger, doc. blend us your hand, your foot, your face. blend me a facebook post, you fucking pussy. blend your own heart, "doc." blend your stupid, pussy, bitch-ass, gay, retarded heart.
fuck you. blend your heart.
posted by zipper @ 8:20 PM
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