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| YUGO |
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YUGO LABS |
| COOL STUFF |
| the circuit of bargains | |
| furious noodle begot pentium ziv in the effluvious infomalarky of intangible ted's circuit of bargain ciruits bargain store. i was searching for bargains on bargains on bargins when a circuit on a bargain caught my eye. this was what i'd been searching for. but could i further bargain this bargain this bargain this pargan this paragus as paragus et cetera? i was not so not so sure, of this i was certain. at the circuit. of bargains | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2018-07-06 06:39:05 | |
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| kie | |
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do u wanna cookie cookie cookie cookie such cookie ookie |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2018-06-28 05:34:42 | |
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| computer graphics style: reanimation jutsu | |
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...effervescent trount fanned and fawned on the intercostal plane of summoning billy mays. with the power of oxy-clean! come forth and crush thine enemies! or maybe just chill, you know, and cause some massive destruction. cool? ok.
so then billy mays climbs out of a gravity portal and performs the sacred jutsu of hucksterism and totally wrecks the band of cybernetic gangsters that just busted in off the screamcast and -- no? ok. ...well, okay, there's this american band trying to sound like a japanese band trying to sound like a 60's english pink floyd band and they're on their way to japan when the plane flies into a spacetime-continuum vortex. it's this freaky dark void with teeth and eyes. cool? ok. so then a space billy mays climbs out of an intercostal space portal, ten times taller than the plane, and performs the sacred hucksterism of jutsu, sucking the cybernetic gangsters back over from the previous plotline. the cybernetic gangsters hurtle into the vortex mouths (which totally explains how the cybernetic gangsters got wrecked), and -- no? ok so a supergenius has created a computer simulation of a computer simulation of reality. the simulation of the simulation of reality becomes more than just a simulation of a simulation -- it becomes a simulation. but, then, get this, right -- the simulation starts to become more than a simulation. it starts to become reality. so then a cybernetic hacking gangster tumbles out of a simulation portal and his cyber avatar is billy mays. he performs the sacred jutsu of hucksterism and summons a... huh? dead? what do you mean, dead? i don't care! i need him to star in my film. cast him by any means necessary. any. means necessary. and that means necessary what? shit, yeah, alright. let's just do it with computer graphics |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2018-06-25 04:35:05 | |
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| everyone has a weakness | |
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titanium lou was unamused. adamantium gary needed the stuff by thoisday, and bakelite ted was sitting on the crapper again.
"look," i belted out, losing patience -- "align the server with the setting sun, but offset fifteen degrees west. then patch apache" titanium lou cut me off. "whoa, buddy! i told ya's, we don't run apache, we run drupal." titanium lou never did have a particularly firm grasp of full-stack web development |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2018-06-24 18:23:18 | |
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| Why'd ya think Mike Colameco's hands look like android hands drawn by human hands as human hands? | |
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| Posted by shitbowl @ 2018-06-19 16:38:44 | |
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| a brief malfuncqti | |
| forthwith peeves are truncated plaps collapse sypapse peep peep peep yap. there are fifteen gutters in every dolphin, phyiscs has decreed. my eyeball is mauve. muave? mauve? muave? mauve? move meuve? i seem to havefig | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2018-06-15 02:14:28 | |
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| Entrance Exam | |
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Welcome to your job entrance exam. There is no penalty for failing, but you cannot leave this room -- ever -- until you pass. Please be seated, possibly forever.
1] Analyze the corresponding subspace bracket for zimmolier structure theta, with the assumption that the local cheddar is excellent. 2] This question is multiple choice: a) We'll see. b) Go ask your father. c) horse tranquilizers 3] Attached is the audio of Ms. Grettel's kindergarten classes singing Yankee Doodle, class years 2000-10. Implement a FFT and use a back-prop neural network to analyze the FFT's output. Train the network to sing Yankee Doodle. Submit a FLAC of your network's rendering, and your source code -- in javascript. 4] Please list every acronym relevant to the industry, and what you believe the acronym to stand for. 5] Compose an opera metal song about Donald Knuth. Extra points will be awarded for sounding like Blind Guardian. 6] Explain how you are helping to stop sexual harassment in the workplace. 7] Explain how pixels get on the screen. 8] Please tell us a little about yourself. Be creative! 9] Are you Certified to work In A Cubicle, in America, as a Citizen? [Y/N] 10] [*BONUS QUESTION*] Explain how to do something actually useful with existing quantum computers. 11] [*DOUBLE BONUS QUESTION*] Devise a foolproof rollout strategy for calibrating the ICC profiles on 20,000 assorted beige boxes running sundry flavors of linux. Good Luck! |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2018-06-04 01:44:19 | |
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| job application | |
| porkweight of the schnauzer jawn was dopely equivalent to the corresponding linnzazzlier equations. spacemont pictures the utmost mountain upon us, once again, fore sheesay. my popcorn is atrocious; please forgive me | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2018-06-04 01:10:36 | |
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| dubmood 5.25 | |
| melting saxaphones accent articulated wenches in a symphonous parsimony of eldridth snare rushes atop a gymboree of cretacious uberviscient obvulescence creating the assemblance of a pixel sundae on the moon of some distant planet. €2.35 via data airlines | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2018-06-03 22:31:30 | |
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| peek poke | |
| with the rising vibes of the trogdyllian ghettoblaster placating my deepest syapses, i sank into a sigma-level rhythmic interlink. melting infrences sailed daftly by, like the interstitial lemonaide of undisinverted circumstance. i had but fifteen merits in my mathematical set; cards would must be housed with the delictissian of a forthnite. peet flap, peet flap, peet flap. you are a rising function call threatening to smash my stack of malarky, like a cloud server in the night. if only your responsiveness were 124ms, would you then be so brash? i think not. circumstances meet your vector were delet | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2018-05-31 06:46:10 | |
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| Has Anyone Else Noticed | |
| Ok, now everything is sharp, and [application] crashes whenever I press a note on my keyboard... This might still be a problem with [application], (or my computer, or my keyboard, or my MIDI to USB interface...) but at least I know that it's not supposed to happen. | |
| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2018-05-25 03:30:43 | |
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| hey mr yugo guy | |
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how does ham interact with other lunch meats? |
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| Posted by shitbowl @ 2018-04-06 16:52:45 | |
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| Dear riced out yugo | |
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How do cats choose where to sleep? Cause it all seems particularly arbitrary to me. |
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| Posted by shitbowl @ 2018-04-05 23:50:01 | |
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| Directly there | |
| Even bread casts a shadow, though not necessarily evenly. | |
| Posted by shitbowl @ 2018-03-09 17:58:57 | |
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| truck, large: (drives over face) | |
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Yesterday at 11:39am ยท
Pllzzzz ppl stop falling for Tha devil's lies r children were born perfect like we were don't matter. wut ever . u wuz created Perfect God made u Tha way and wut U R ,Escape Tha matrix's.... Wut u consider real world is Fake not Real ,False Like all Tha rest of lies they tell U, This is a mirage , nuttin but a dream, a fairlytale U been told. And for those of us that know Tha truth it's a nightmare unless u know how 2 control way u percieve things or other ppl in this realm or dimension u exist in!!111!!1!!11!!!1 |
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| Posted by shitbowl @ 2018-01-31 17:20:46 | |
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| the fabric of the file | |
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Here at RiceCloud, we chose to provide only the purest form of digital structuring, distilled from countless hours of manwork; on-demand data driven development is our pride and the excellence of the product will speak for itself. Don't let yourself be fooled by imitations, only an authentic product will achieve the pleasing consistency of layout and content over the fabric of the file.
A bespoke experience, feel the raw quality of artisanally crafted configuration files, the gestalt designed to emphasize a superlative level of fine-tuning, tailored for your needs. Performance isn't simply a goal, but the result of process culminating into what can only be defined as nothing less of an expression of an art. |
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| Posted by RICED OUT MARKETING @ 2018-01-18 03:23:02 | |
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| yoga sport thong 2018 | |
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| Posted by shitbowl @ 2018-01-14 01:45:35 | |
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| Oh Really? | |
| I heard that was the case, but that's just what I heard. Frankly I'm going to need some sources but that's ok if you don't have any. The bible? yeah I've read bits of it but I was just talking about proven fact. Riced Out Yugo is racist? I don't think so but you're entitled to your opinion. Yeha we've been to the moon there's plenty of... ok... yeah but the laser reflec- ok.. no I get what you're saying but.. | |
| Posted by Mahjong The Wisest @ 2018-01-06 01:08:15 | |
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| dottertea deadah | |
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i simply do not understand the need for this low-res image of some obscure dev board with a fuzzy caterpillar sticker on the eeprom, but i will hold my chair out for you anyways...
no, wait, i don't have a chair. it's ome of da mangy fings i do without, these days. have you ever had a ketchup sandwich? no? ok. do you want one? no, ok. how much bread does spain consume per-capita, in the rainy season? what if exclude the bagel demographic? what if... what if all questions only lead to more questions? there is no question in my mind that it is so -- there are legion. an evarnescing fuzzy titmouse told me, so it most be so, or less. it does! the tea is ready. or, well, perhaps it would be, if i'd made some. because if i'd made some, then that would mean it's already ready, rite? because if it ain't ready i 'aven't ade it. have i? no, indeed. yes, no tea was made. yes, tea wasn't made. would you like a ketchup sandwich? |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2018-01-05 06:38:53 | |
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| Unfortunately Slightly Coherent | |
| And now, we go live to new Anchor Jim Bitterman, drunk as usual in his shack in the Adirondack Mountains. Thanks, Connie, for the usual flattering introduction. I really appreciate you pointing that out, as always. Naturally, there's no reason for it. I'm just bitter. That's it, just me, nothing to do with circumstances. But don't worry, I've been reading "The Secret" and I'm imagining a better life. I've got a beautiful wife, an amazing boat, I'm smoking hash every day AND doing my dishes in the bathtub. We've got a special report tonight, and it's completely satirical, although it still might get me killed. We'll put aside for a moment what would happen after that *coughs* GNT *coughs*, but no one would hopefully be that stupid. So anyways, like I was saying, I've got no reason at all to be bitter about anything, I'm just a sourpuss. But this story isn't really about me, even though for whatever godforsaken reason I've become a character in it. It was a heady time, 1998, and I was working for the clinton administration as a patsy. My job description was "" and "*"; so of course, I said "YOURE FUCKING A RIGHT, YEAH". Let's get back to the story I'm making up. So...there's...there's people in the story, and mainly there's Bill and Villary Clinton and Moniker Lewansky, also...let's see, the Imperial Oriental Government that secretly own the corntree, and probably some dude from the midwest called Berry Randall, and Geoerge Burnsdale, and Billy Mitchell, and IDK, there's other people, too. Everyone is rtying to fuck everyone over because it's a giant episode of FUCK YOU, BUDDY, and no one understands loyalty or love or decency. Also, Shia LeBouf is in there, and TRIGA FILMS, and probably, like, the California Raisins and a giant talking orange. Let me be honest with you Connie, I'm in no state of mind for this. I've been drinking heavily and under the influence of some wserious psychotropics as well as government mind control brain parasites. So as usual, this is the news you'll hear first. I'm eating drop biscuits, apples, and pig anuses for breakfast because I'm colour-blind. Oh, how could I forget, the Grandmaster of Time and Space, Jayson Lund, and the TimeLords. or...no, that sounds right. And this guy Jake Dorkskull from King Kong, and King Kong, and I think, there were other people, but that's a story for another day. It was the 60s and I was at a Jefferson Airplane concert, Grace Slick was backstage eating her usual post-concert buffet of dead whores "ONLY VEAL!" she screamed, as one of the roadies made the mistake of bringing in what she called "the mutton". "What did I tell you! I wanted FRESH MEAT. I'm a kitty-cat, mreow." She'd been up for a few days and a bundle of horses couldn't bring her down. I offered her some Vitamin C gummies, but she was like "FUCK YOU I FUCKING HATE VITAMINS YOU STUPID BITCH." "So Grace, how was the concert?" "FUCKING AMAZING, as always, I'm the fucking best, that's why I hide behind the curtain." The real Grace Slick was actually 50 and asian, or 40-something and irish, or a secretary aand belgian, or sometrhing. Maybe I don't know. What do I look like, a reporter? I'd heard from a roadie there was actually a factory that produced Grace Slicks from countries all over the globe, to keep the supply coming, as they tended to expire early. I was basing all of my journalism on hearsay, as was the fashion in the time. Naturally, everyone seemed to know something, but no one really knew anything. For all I knew, the entire story was fabricated by people and designed to cause strife for their own political gains. "If you know so much about this, why don't you do something about it?" I said, to a giant chorus of "what, no; we want you to look like an ass". So it was time for me to step in and drop a whole shitload of unaimed drivel out because for some godforsaken reason that seemed more compelling or useful than I DONT KNOW GETTING A FUCKING NORMAL JOB OR SOMETHING, JIM. To complicate things, a long-lost relative of unkown origin or relation, or maybe not, had shown up, but he was pretty great and I loved spending time with him (no homo) so something had to be done about that. Where were we...oh yes, I was further confusing things with unfocused free-association and stream-of-consciousness, and oh what a consciousness it had been. It was 2008 and Donald Duck had just been elected president on his "?Yes, everyone thinks I'm going to legalize it, but then people are going to be all 'OF COURSE THE BLACK GUY DOES IT', so I won't" platform. His hair was immaculate, as usual, and his name was Saddam Hussein. After resurrecting Tricky Dick Nixon from the grave and Ron Raygun, who we had performing private sex ahows in the oval office, everything seemed rainbows and gumdrops for all time into the future. Little did we know there was a darkness lurking...a darkness that consisted mainly of a burnt-out 68-watt lightbulb that none of the maintenance people wanted to replace. "Get these dead presidents in the stables, I want a real Tijuana show!!" he yelled, whomever he was. We were eating quumquats, quantum quumquats, and...fucking, ...I don't know, I'm not feeling very creative today connie, get off my fucking ass. Why am I even doing this? I just wanted to work a normal job like everyone else and then you all stuck me in the middle of your ridiculous fighting. I swear, if you kids don't stop fighting, I'm pulling this car over, I yelled to no one in particular. Suddenly I realized I was alone in my shack in the Adirondacks, and not actually a news anchor. Snippets and bits from my brain-hole were oozing out as I slowly gained consciousness. I had to find a cork, so I opened another bottle of wine. Unfortunately, I wasn't nearly high enough for anything to make sense, so I went back to my typewriter. CONNIE, GET ME SOME DECENT HERB, I typed, imagining I was tlaking to Connie Chung:wq | |
| Posted by Jim Bitterman @ 2017-12-27 15:56:02 | |
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