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(Versus the World) Audio If you missed w00tstock, you missed the brilliance of Ernest Cline and why today's geeks have it too easy. Bonus: Fark shoutout from Wil Wheaton at the beginning   (media.vtwproductions.com) divider line 21
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3192 clicks; posted to Main » on 23 Jul 2011 at 8:47 AM (3 years ago)   |  Favorite    |   share:  Share on Twitter share via Email Share on Facebook   more»



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2011-07-23 07:28:52 AM  
Ernie Cline is totally freaking airwolf! He is also a farker from way back in the day!

Dance monkeys, dance!
 
2011-07-23 09:06:13 AM  
I had a friend named Ernie throughout elementary, middle, and high school. His parents got divorced when we were in the eighth grade and Ernie moved to an apartment with his dad. His mom ended up shooting herself.

After all this settled down, Ernie came back to school. Before, he dressed in regular kid clothes -- tee-shirts, jeans, sneakers. After, he dressed in slacks, button up shirts, and shiny loafers. He gelled his hair and wore cologne. He went from sort of hiding from girls to actively pursuing them. I couldn't figure out what he was up to.

Our high school, as part of prom, hosted a "Best Looking Him and Her" contest. The winner wasn't announced until the night of prom, up on stage, with whatever cheesy band they had hired. When Ernie learned about this, he made it his pure and essential goal to win that contest. He went on an advertising blitz, putting up posters of himself all over the school. However, he was embarrassed of his first name, Ernie, which didn't sound very attractive at all. So he used his last name, which I'll leave out. Anyway, it was all he talked about, winning that stupid contest.

The big night comes, and who ends up winning? The farking kid in the wheelchair with the piano key teeth. It made all of us feel good, but I saw Ernie ditch out of the auditorium. I knew it must've hit him hard so I followed him into the boy's bathroom. He was closed up in a stall when I got in there.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.
"No, man, I'm not okay," he said.
"Why do you care? It's just some stupid contest. It doesn't matter."
"Maybe not to you," he said.

And then I heard him crying.

"Why are you crying?"
He broke down blubbering then and said, "Now my dad's going to leave me too."

Pretty sad. He ended up joining the Air Force and I haven't heard from him. But hey Ernie, I like your recordings. I hope they make you feel as good looking as we all thought you were.
 
2011-07-23 09:08:44 AM  
I haven't seen wil around here for quite a while, but judging from his blog he's got busier and busier over the years.
 
2011-07-23 09:10:51 AM  

spentmiles: I had a friend named Ernie throughout elementary, middle, and high school. His parents got divorced when we were in the eighth grade and Ernie moved to an apartment with his dad. His mom ended up shooting herself.

After all this settled down, Ernie came back to school. Before, he dressed in regular kid clothes -- tee-shirts, jeans, sneakers. After, he dressed in slacks, button up shirts, and shiny loafers. He gelled his hair and wore cologne. He went from sort of hiding from girls to actively pursuing them. I couldn't figure out what he was up to.

Our high school, as part of prom, hosted a "Best Looking Him and Her" contest. The winner wasn't announced until the night of prom, up on stage, with whatever cheesy band they had hired. When Ernie learned about this, he made it his pure and essential goal to win that contest. He went on an advertising blitz, putting up posters of himself all over the school. However, he was embarrassed of his first name, Ernie, which didn't sound very attractive at all. So he used his last name, which I'll leave out. Anyway, it was all he talked about, winning that stupid contest.

The big night comes, and who ends up winning? The farking kid in the wheelchair with the piano key teeth. It made all of us feel good, but I saw Ernie ditch out of the auditorium. I knew it must've hit him hard so I followed him into the boy's bathroom. He was closed up in a stall when I got in there.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.
"No, man, I'm not okay," he said.
"Why do you care? It's just some stupid contest. It doesn't matter."
"Maybe not to you," he said.

And then I heard him crying.

"Why are you crying?"
He broke down blubbering then and said, "Now my dad's going to leave me too."

Pretty sad. He ended up joining the Air Force and I haven't heard from him. But hey Ernie, I like your recordings. I hope they make you feel as good looking as we all thought you were.


wat
 
2011-07-23 09:31:34 AM  
No Wheaton tag?
 
151
2011-07-23 09:31:59 AM  

spentmiles: I had a friend named Ernie throughout elementary, middle, and high school. His parents got divorced when we were in the eighth grade and Ernie moved to an apartment with his dad. His mom ended up shooting herself.

After all this settled down, Ernie came back to school. Before, he dressed in regular kid clothes -- tee-shirts, jeans, sneakers. After, he dressed in slacks, button up shirts, and shiny loafers. He gelled his hair and wore cologne. He went from sort of hiding from girls to actively pursuing them. I couldn't figure out what he was up to.

Our high school, as part of prom, hosted a "Best Looking Him and Her" contest. The winner wasn't announced until the night of prom, up on stage, with whatever cheesy band they had hired. When Ernie learned about this, he made it his pure and essential goal to win that contest. He went on an advertising blitz, putting up posters of himself all over the school. However, he was embarrassed of his first name, Ernie, which didn't sound very attractive at all. So he used his last name, which I'll leave out. Anyway, it was all he talked about, winning that stupid contest.

The big night comes, and who ends up winning? The farking kid in the wheelchair with the piano key teeth. It made all of us feel good, but I saw Ernie ditch out of the auditorium. I knew it must've hit him hard so I followed him into the boy's bathroom. He was closed up in a stall when I got in there.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.
"No, man, I'm not okay," he said.
"Why do you care? It's just some stupid contest. It doesn't matter."
"Maybe not to you," he said.

And then I heard him crying.

"Why are you crying?"
He broke down blubbering then and said, "Now my dad's going to leave me too."

Pretty sad. He ended up joining the Air Force and I haven't heard from him. But hey Ernie, I like your recordings. I hope they make you feel as good looking as we all thought you were.


Sad story bro
 
2011-07-23 09:35:47 AM  

spentmiles: I had a friend named Ernie throughout elementary, middle, and high school. His parents got divorced when we were in the eighth grade and Ernie moved to an apartment with his dad. His mom ended up shooting herself.
Blah blah blah.


Yeah, OK, now get a job, OK? The writing thing isn't working out.

/My brother's name is Ernie, and he's cool.
//Named after our uncle who died in WWII. Also a very cool dude.
 
2011-07-23 09:51:51 AM  
I had a friend named Ernie throughout elementary

userserve-ak.last.fm
 
2011-07-23 10:04:15 AM  
I had a friend named Ernie throughout elementary, middle, and high school. His parents weren't around much and Ernie moved to an apartment with me early on rather than end up living out of a trash can like one of our other friends. That guy was kind of a jerk, but that's another story.

Anyway, Ernie was always a strange dresser. Same thing every day, striped long-sleeved shirt and jeans, but tidy. Always very clean. Spent a lot of time in the bathtub. I couldn't figure out what he was up to.

Our high school, as part of prom, hosted a "Best Imagination" contest. The winner wasn't announced until the night of prom, up on stage, with whatever cheesy band they had hired. When Ernie learned about this, he made it his pure and essential goal to win that contest. He went crazy, constantly coming up with weird shiat to talk about. What's it like on the moon? What do zoo animals talk about? Seriously, he'd wake me up in the middle of the night just to talk at me about this stuff. I was thinking maybe acid for a while there but no, just imagination apparently. Anyway, it was all he talked about, winning that stupid contest.

The big night comes, and who ends up winning? The farking developmentally-challenged blue-haired kid in the cape and helmet. It made all of us feel good, but I saw Ernie ditch out of the auditorium. I knew it must've hit him hard so I followed him into the boy's bathroom. He was closed up in a stall when I got in there.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.
"No, man, I'm not okay," he said.
"Why do you care? It's just some stupid contest. It doesn't matter."
"Maybe not to you," he said.

And then I heard him crying.

"Why are you crying?"
He broke down blubbering then and said, "Now rubber ducky's going to leave me too."

Pretty sad. He ended up joining PBS and I haven't heard from him. But hey Ernie, I like your show. I hope it makes you feel as imaginative as we all thought you were.
 
2011-07-23 10:05:54 AM  
Dammit, Malcolm_Sex...
 
2011-07-23 10:14:57 AM  
Monkeyfark Ridiculous: damn bro. I wanted to help make this a meme, but my skills aren't up to par with yours.

Plus one, my färkerfreund
 
2011-07-23 10:39:26 AM  
A while back, after I ditched my first wife, I was taking care of my kid. His name was Ernie. The little freak went all fruity after the divore and started stealing my cologne and wearing the freaky skinny loafers. WTF?

One day he seemed really down. I felt obligated, so I asked what was going on. He said he lost some contest to a cripple!

Well, that cinched it. I left him that night and never saw him again.

I heard he joined the Air Force or some fruity thing like that. Figures.
 
2011-07-23 10:41:25 AM  
I would totally watch that.
 
Boe
2011-07-23 10:43:09 AM  

Monkeyfark Ridiculous: I had a friend named Ernie throughout elementary, middle, and high school. His parents weren't around much and Ernie moved to an apartment with me early on rather than end up living out of a trash can like one of our other friends. That guy was kind of a jerk, but that's another story.

Anyway, Ernie was always a strange dresser. Same thing every day, striped long-sleeved shirt and jeans, but tidy. Always very clean. Spent a lot of time in the bathtub. I couldn't figure out what he was up to.

Our high school, as part of prom, hosted a "Best Imagination" contest. The winner wasn't announced until the night of prom, up on stage, with whatever cheesy band they had hired. When Ernie learned about this, he made it his pure and essential goal to win that contest. He went crazy, constantly coming up with weird shiat to talk about. What's it like on the moon? What do zoo animals talk about? Seriously, he'd wake me up in the middle of the night just to talk at me about this stuff. I was thinking maybe acid for a while there but no, just imagination apparently. Anyway, it was all he talked about, winning that stupid contest.

The big night comes, and who ends up winning? The farking developmentally-challenged blue-haired kid in the cape and helmet. It made all of us feel good, but I saw Ernie ditch out of the auditorium. I knew it must've hit him hard so I followed him into the boy's bathroom. He was closed up in a stall when I got in there.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.
"No, man, I'm not okay," he said.
"Why do you care? It's just some stupid contest. It doesn't matter."
"Maybe not to you," he said.

And then I heard him crying.

"Why are you crying?"
He broke down blubbering then and said, "Now rubber ducky's going to leave me too."

Pretty sad. He ended up joining PBS and I haven't heard from him. But hey Ernie, I like your show. I hope it makes you feel as imaginative as we all thought you were.


Farking bravo!
 
2011-07-23 10:54:09 AM  
I had a friend named Ernie throughout elementary, middle, and high school. His parents were pretty distant. His dad was a doctor, who'd be busy all the time and his mom was a musician who forced him to learn the cello. Ernie hated it.

After all this settled down, Ernie came back to school. He started drinking mojitos and smoking cigars. On weekends he'd go hunting. He seemed to have a thing for guns. He fancied himself a bit of a ladies' man. He wanted us to call him "Papa", which was weird if you ask me. I couldn't figure out what he was up to.

Our high school, as part of prom, hosted a "Best Writer of the Year" contest. The winner wasn't announced until the night of prom, up on stage, with whatever cheesy band they had hired. When Ernie learned about this, he made it his pure and essential goal to win that contest. He started writing stories. Good stories. With short sentences and a lot of impact. He showed them to me - bull fights and war. Anyway, it was all he talked about, winning that stupid contest.

The big night comes, and who ends up winning? The farking reclusive kid who wrote about a schoolboy who thought everything was crummy. It made all of us feel good, but I saw Ernie ditch out of the auditorium. I knew it must've hit him hard so I followed him into the boy's bathroom. He was closed up in a stall when I got in there.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.
"No, man, I'm not okay," he said.
"Why do you care? It's just some stupid contest. It doesn't matter."
"Maybe not to you," he said.

And then I heard him crying.

"Why are you crying?"
He broke down blubbering then and said, "Now I've finished all the rum too."

Pretty sad. He ended up moving to Idaho and I heard he ate a shotgun. But hey Ernie, I like your books. I hope they made you feel as good a writer as we all thought you were.

/there's not a lot of Ernie's out there
//it was this or Shackleton
 
2011-07-23 02:17:44 PM  
I had a friend named Ernie throughout elementary, middle, and high school. He never said much about his mom or his dad until he was quizzed by the mom of this one girl he liked. She went nuts when he confessed he'd been found in a handbag in the cloakroom at Victoria Station.

After all this settled down, Ernie went back to the country. Before, he'd looked a lot like this guy Jack he was staying with - they could have been brothers. After, he looked a lot more like Jack's friend Algernon. He inspired absolute confidence in every woman around. I couldn't figure out what he was up to.

That country estate, as part of that first weekend, hosted a tea party with all the girls. None of them realized they all knew Ernie until they talked, out in the garden, with whatever cheesy tea they were drinking. When Ernie learned they'd found out, he made it his pure and essential goal to survive the evening. He went on an advertising blitz, making speeches about himself all over the drawing room. However, he was embarrassed of his first name, which wasn't Ernie, which was the only thing the girls were attracted to at all. So he started babbling about how he was different in town, when that mom showed up, not wanting to be left out. Anyway, it was all they talked about, him having that stupid name.

The local rector comes, and who does he end up mentioning? The farking governess of that guy Jack, the one with the absent-minded streak. It made all of us feel good, when she told about accidentally ditching Ernie in the cloakroom. I knew it must've hit him hard so I followed along as that one mom told us that she knew what his name really was. He was closed up in embraces when I finally got the whole story.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.
"No, man, I'm not okay," he said.
"Why do you care? It's just some stupid name. It doesn't matter."
"Maybe not to you," he said.

And then I heard him crying.

"Why are you crying?"
He broke down blubbering then and said, "I've actually been telling the truth the whole time."

Pretty sad. He ended up joining his friend in marrying the girls and I haven't heard from him. But hey Ernie, I like your unworkably convoluted excuses. I hope they make you feel as vitally important as we all thought you were.

/thank you, sparknotes
 
2011-07-23 02:48:13 PM  
/Ernie Wheaton
 
2011-07-23 03:17:29 PM  
Hello. My name is Ernie and I lose Best Looking contests.

Oh sure, once in a while I win. There was this one contest I won where the guy who came in second had to leave before the voting--something about having to be at the gym in 26 minutes.

And once I beat the lower half of a guy who taunted a dynamite monkey earlier in the day.

But perhaps my greatest victory occurred in Vegas. I took on an entire room full of drunken sociopaths, sex addicts, drunks, rustlers, cut throats, murderers, bounty hunters, desperados, mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, halfwits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, con men, Indian agents, Mexican bandits, muggers, buggerers, bushwhackers, hornswogglers, horse thieves, bull dykes, train robbers, bank robbers, ass-kickers, shiat-kickers and Methodists. I beat all comers. The sex I experienced there ruined my looks, my self-esteem and put a permanent curve in my wang. I think the name of their party started with the F-word. Or something close to it.

I burned my clothes and headed straight for the free clinic.
 
2011-07-23 05:36:15 PM  

Shadow Blasko: Ernie Cline is totally freaking airwolf! He is also a farker from way back in the day!

Dance monkeys, dance!


Ernie Cline

is Airwolf.
 
2011-07-23 07:12:39 PM  
hmm, not as epic as WHil WHeaton made it out to be. and coming from a 36 year old who experienced EVERY thing he spoke about, i dunno, it just kinda fell flat for me.

but Dungeons and Drag Queens was pretty funny.
 
2011-07-24 03:31:29 AM  
 
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