13 June 2006

The Banners I Added

If you scroll to the utmost bottom of this page, you will find two banners. No, excuse me, a "navbar" and a banner.

The navbar is a piece of java script that connects me to a WebRing. I work for www.webring.com. I recently adopted some rings to manage and had to add their navbar to my site in order to keep my User ID active. What differentiates a navbar from a standard banner is that it has a search engine built into it. WebRings resemble Yahoo! Groups, but instead of listing messages posted by members, it lists member Websites. This presents a terrific way for your Website to gain some extra traffic.

The banner is another piece of java script that generates surrealistic phrases, phrases that almost seem to make sense, but don't. We've all read The Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll. Well, this Surrealism Generator is just as much fun. You can click on the link within the banner to acquire the same code to paste on your own site. Once the code has been pasted, refresh your screen to read a new phrase.

When I first ran across the generator, I wondered how many flarfists know about it and what they think. Personally, I'm considering using it as a way to write some poetry. Or, at least to use as a launching point for some zany prose.


Anonymous said...

Hey Kyle, here's a poem generated from the surreal machine. [RC]


If I had a penny black I'd go back to it in your spleen. I'd calculate logarithms with it in the window. You are wounded computers. Look at Godzilla's broken-hearted guillotine. Wouldn't it be nice to generate my sleepy wolverine? Don't swallow me! Not with that electronic carpet. Mercy. Watch out for those futons. If only my playing card wasn't flawed. Oh yes, you throw knives at me, and prank phone calls to my DNA-strand, but you won't change the way I faint at the sight of the most badly-disguised virgin. And I would have been able to if it wasn't for you thin radios. Is this a cattle-prod which I see before me, the snowflake on my tonka toy? Come, let me break tragic news to thee. I'd predict your behavior but I haven't got a blender. My waistcoat is full of hapless single-celled life forms. Please get intimate with my x-rays except the Welsh. You are the most pirated puff-adder. To return to a vodka and tonic, that is the pest. If I can get the spear to mention your sexual conquest of a table, the long-sleeved shirt will nudge and I'll be able to electroplate Donald Duck. Why shouldn't sofas apprehend orchids? Have you got my pebble-dashed magpie? ANSWER ME! Say "Tish" to my chocolate sponge-cake and tell me that you stumble into me. I've proof that you badger leprechauns. Your salt crystal isn't. My parson is full of underwear. Please hold a referendum on my table-lamp. Checkbooks. Lots of them. All of them giddy. Apparently, many nail files will make a leotard pedal toadstools. How can someone so transparent manacle you? Don't sing "My Way" at plate-glass windows, it annoys highly-polished stools. Is this a Kafka novel which I see before me, the ferris wheel toward my zebra crossing? Oh yes, you can hit on me, drape tinsel over me, cherish my ex, but you won't change the way I smear mustard. Have you got the shar pei sing-a-long? My slimy semi-precious stone said trip over the tax disc, and don't compare babes with hob-nobs on the way. Your mother was a thing-a-ma-jig and your father smelled of firecrackers. Look at my godawful fern. You can stun me, jangle me, vacuum-pack my mask, but you won't change the way I yodel. I'm a manhole cover and I'm okay, you’re okay. I sprinkle talcum powder on moray eels all night and I cower in abject terror from sunflowers. I want to clean your coffee stirrer until it's rat-arsed. And Lou Reed said, "Let there be a teabag", and there was a teabag. And Lou Reed saw that the teabag was tomato-filled, and Lou Reed separated the teabag from the wafer-thin. Jingle all the way - oh what fun it is to giggle at vice-presidents in a one-flapjack pickup truck. Why should acupuncture needles wrap newspaper around koi? Avoid thinking about my shoe and tell me that you snag bikinis. Are you trying to laugh at my blancmange? I wish you wouldn't wobble those Neanderthals. Thou shalt not extrude ice cubes. If you didn't have three-in-a-bed romps with staplers, the feather boas wouldn't catalogue you. My parents always told me I should write to the government about cheesecakes. Early to search for thumbs, early to go on holiday with cemetery gates, makes a man babyish, bogus and frilly.

Kyle Stich said...

I love that Surrealism Generator, thanks RC.