Yes, I know, most commercials are merely annoyances you have to wait through to get to your show. Unless you’re one of those people who knows how to work Netflix or something and then shut up cause I don’t. Anyway, every once in a while I take a break from the Internet and watch commercials. That is, watch commercials with a few minutes of actual programming (this episode of Secret Addictions, some lady puts hamsters in her mouth!) added in here and there.
So all are annoying but some are just . . . so so awful I cannot switch the remote fast enough because THERE IT IS and of course they repeat the worst ones over and over again. Why? Do they really think these commercials will make us want to buy their products? Have you ever bought anything based on a commercial? Like, say, those stupid bears talk about how the toilet paper totally doesn’t stick to their furry butts so you say “HEY, I must get toilet paper.” Whatever brand that was, because by now you’ve forgotten because you just saw cartoon bears merrily discussing bodily emissions.
I just picked ten of the worst ones I can think of off the top of my head. Get ready.
1. The Halos Oranges commercial
I actually like oranges, but this commercial makes me want to slap children. Specifically the ones who are snatching oranges away from their parents’ hands and mouthing off because these oranges are for KIDS, not parents. Well, by golly, Suzie, guess who bought those oranges? MOM. And Mom’s gonna lock you down in the basement for a little quality time with a wolverine while she eats every single one. Deal.
2. Blah blah insurance.
I hate insurance commercials. Like that one for State Farm where the guy pops in out of thin air to solve whatever problem the person has immediately? Even if it’s saving people from wild animals? If you think this insurance is so great, try calling these people when you’re being chased by a wild hyenas. They’ll get back to you, your call is very important.
Then there’s Flo. I know some people like her perky little psychotic smile, but I don’t. She is way, way too obsessed with insurance, and probably needs to be institutionalized before someone gets hurt for trying to buy State Farm instead of Progressive and call on the State Farm people to save them and she KILLS THEM ALL and wait, maybe that could end those commercials for good.
Just leave the Gecko. He’s the most tolerable, and I’m pretty sure I could smash him into the ground if he bugged me too much.
3. Lawyer commercials
Have you had bladder sling, pelvic mesh, gotten man boobies, had a child who didn’t make straight As, used any sort of medication, had any surgery, or even simply driven by a doctor’s office in the last year? Then you can sue! We’ll help by taking most of the settlement, saying it ever arrives. Also, have fun explaining to junior what pelvic mesh and E.D. mean.
4. Pill popping commercials
I am so freaking happy they let people advertise random drugs on TV, because your average viewer is totally qualified to go tell their doctors what drugs they need. No cigarette advertisements allowed except the ones with the people with voice boxes croaking about how their lives are over which will effect no one but people who don’t smoke anyway, but hey, why not advertise a product that directly says its possible side effect is DEATH while showing people merrily dancing around having fun. Try closing your eyes and listening to the side effects or just watching the commercial with no sound. One of these things is not like the other. I don’t care how happy that woman looks, she’s ten seconds away from possible cardiac arrest and explosive diarrhea.
5. Cleaning product commercials
You know what I love? How even in 2014 most cleaning product commercials not only appear during shows women supposedly watch, but they also primarily show women ecstatic about crap like a Swiffer sweeper. The only time I am excited about cleaning products is when someone else is using them. I especially love the one with the sweet old couple where the man says “I don’t clean” and grins and I want the old lady to shove the swiffer right up his . . . moving on.
6. Commercials for other “feminine” products
It’s really hard to advertise something like this without upping the gross factor. So better to show how they work by using blue liquid like they do in diaper commercials. Or simply ignoring the entire thing and showing women who are suddenly free and able to sky dive and stuff because of a certain tampon. I especially like the one where the mannequins come to life. So that’s what happened with Kim Cattrall in Mannequin!
7. That Fiat commercial
I dislike car commercials in general (sometimes it takes the entire commercial to realize a car is involved) but the latest Fiat one is the worst. Who thought employing Peter Gabriel’s Sledgehammer technique would be a good idea. When I see that car bounce back and forth from big to small and drive around that guys head to that quirky music I feel like I’m going to have a seizure. Thanks, Fiat.
This one does not have Mr. Crew Cut but it’s even stupider. It’s like an endlessly blinking gif, and you know how I love those.
8. Local yokel commercials
If regular commercials, designed my advertisers paid millions for their “expertise” often stink, then you can only imagine how wonderful the ones done with a home video camera and Bob “Corky” Johnson are. They often involve sickening camera angles, horrific acting, and the shameless exploitation of small children related to the owner. I mean, little Suzie says I should buy that car – who can’t trust an 8 year old eating oranges? I’m sold!
9. Political commercials
Hi, I’m Jim Everyman Esquire and I understand the needs of your average Joe. Why I once sent one of my servants to a grocery store! I love babies, animals, and wildlife unless any of these are in the way of new building projects. I think we should help the rich, who are at the mercy of the poor who demand stuff like living wages and fifteen minute breaks and birth control for their wild parties. I believe in Jesus who said follow me and carry a big automatic weapon. Oh, and by the way, my opponent, Bob Wimpwagon, is the Devil. This commercial approved by Jim Everyman Esquire.
And now I saved the worst for last.
10. Sad Puppy shelter commercials
You know the ones. The poor little dogs with those impossibly sad eyes staring at you through the bars of their cages while Sarah McLachlan plays in the background and just off screen, somebody holds a gun to the puppy’s head. What did they do to these dogs to make them so sad? Did they force them to watch that one scene in Old Yeller over and and over? And why, with all her money, doesn’t Sarah go save the puppies? She could do it. I don’t have enough room in my backyard for more than a dozen, which is over code (though you can have over a dozen children – go figure). But – for goodness sakes, don’t shoot the doggie!
Seriously, I cannot watch more than two seconds of that commercial without diving for the remote or heading for cover. Too many of these things, and I may just start buying all the drugs advertised on TV and popping them like candy.
The other day I was reading some bad poetry. In other words, like at least 80 percent of the poetry that’s out there right now. See, while there are many people who think they can write prose that can’t; there seem to be even more people who are not poets and do not know it. Prose and poetry aren’t the same. Poetry is much, much harder – if you do it right. I don’t, which I why I only write stupid poems. Thing is, I do it on purpose and other people . . . don’t.
Now there are some awesome poets out there, like Merbear for instance, and several others. Being a good poet does not disqualify you from being in the Society, though. Even good poets can be bad. All a person has to do to join is write the worst poetry they can. Or if you’re like me, just write poetry. For some ideas, I have collected a list of the most obnoxious (in my opinion) poetry faux pas.
1. Seuss-i-fying your poetry
I love Dr. Seuss. But there’s only one Dr. Seuss, and unless you are writing poetry for children, having it rhyme in a sing-song every other line sort of way makes your poetry sound juvenile no matter what your subject. For example:
I have a stalker
He is really strange
He follows me always
And has lots of mange
See? Serious topic = stalking. But I want to take that poem and add goofy drawings to it. Like Marmaduke creepily staring in someone’s window or something.
This is not to say that you can’t rhyme in a poem. One of my favorite poets, Edgar Allen Poe, does rhyme, but he has a flow to his poetry. Real rhyming poetry is every beautiful song you’ve ever heard. It has a melody. Which leads me to example two.
2. Speed-bump poetry
Poetry needs to flow. Even, actually especially, free verse poetry. Since there’s no set line length, or rhyming, it’s up to you to figure out how to make the words flow together. When reading a poem, I don’t like starting and stopping. I call it speed bumps. Each time the word doesn’t flow – there are way too many syllables, or the word somehow doesn’t fit, or the poem loses focus – I feel a bump. I’m shaken out of the reverie. An example:
She’s like the wind
Through a forest of tall tall trees
She rides the night train to Georgia
Next to Runaround Sue
Bump, Bump, BUUUUUMP
3. Emo Poetry
There’s only so much angst over that girl from high school that done did you wrong we can take. Keep it up and you’ll sound like a Taylor Swift song, and no one wants that.
4. Twisty-straw Poetry
It’s still a dumb song even when I make cute connect-the-dots pictures with it.
5. Pick a style, any style poetry
Whatever you choose to do, just stick with it. If you want Seuss, do Seuss. If you want speed-bump, throw out the speed bumps. But please don’t combine a half dozen styles in a single poem.
Dashing through the snow
On a one-horse reindeer whatever
Laughing all the way until we’re shot on sight
By that girl who’s like the wind
In the trees.
I’m sure you can name lots of other problem poetry. Let me know in the comments, or write your own bad poetry post. I’ll link to it and maybe we can make a horrible poetry book. We could call it Twilight Sexy Times Poetry Suck. It would be a bestseller for sure. Or I’ll just do it myself and rake in all the profits.
I’m also thinking of designing a badge. You know for me and my followers, or possibly just for me and all the invisible flying elves. What do you think should be the badge for a Bad Poet’s Society?
They have my house surrounded. Some of them have already infiltrated. It looks like this might be the end. But wait – there’s Indiana Jones! With that keen eye and sharp moves and cute little shell, surely I’ll be saved!
In case you didn’t pick up on it, I’m referring not to the Harrison Ford Indiana Jones, but to the turtle Indiana Jones. And the enemy surrounding me are not Nazis but crickets. Scoff all you want, these are no ordinary crickets – they are highly trained ninja crickets that torture you with this steady CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP that gets louder and louder until you get close and then bang, they vanish.
Luckily for me, Indiana is no ordinary turtle either. My husband assumed Indiana was a boy because like he can tell. So Thing Two named it Indiana Jones, cause what else would you name a turtle? Then one day I got home and Thing Two excitedly told me that Indiana Jones had laid an egg. You don’t hear that everyday. So Indiana’s a girl.
But that turtle’s no sissy. Sure she’s smaller than my shoe, but in her mind she’s like Gamera (that was a giant monster turtle in Japan – no seriously look it up). Put anything in front of her mouth and she will open those tiny freakish jaws impossibly wide and chomp. Frankly, she scares me just a little, but fascinates me at the same time. Her favorite meals are dandelions, worms (the massacre is NOT pretty but still cool), and those cherry tomatoes. She likes those so much she once mistook a little tomato shaped egg timer for one. Boy was she frustrated, and boy was I sorry I couldn’t find the camera.
But what does this have to do with the cricket scourge? One day Thing Two caught one of the crickets and dropped it in Indiana’s enclosure because I have twisted little children. Turns out, Indiana thought it was GREAT and ate it. I have new found love for this turtle, much more so than past pets like the guppies that chowed down on their babies or the hermit crab that escaped its shell and I just really don’t want to go into that one.
So this morning, after yelling pointlessly at the crickets to SHUT UP before I blew up the house just to kill them, I had an idea. You see, I’m terrified of crickets because once I was dropped in this giant vat of them. Not really. I just hate all bugs cause they’re creepy.
But Indiana’s not scared. So I sat her down by the refrigerator where the loudest noise was coming from. And for a minute that cricket shut up. Then Indy walked away. So I put her back. And she walked away again, after giving me her usual “Don’t make me bite your finger off” expression.
Still, I have hope. I’ve left her loose in the house in the hope that she will eventually get hungry and live up to her name as Indiana Jones: Adventurer and Nazi cricket eater. Let the Crusade begin.
I think I’ve mentioned before how much I love dolls. I loved them as a kid, and I love them now. My favorite thing to do was to play with Barbie and her house and her furniture and her clothes and her car (shoes suffice if you cannot afford the Corvette) and her red-headed friend Midge who had to get married cause Barbie’s weddings are all dream ones, great ornamental boyfriends with dead zombie eyes, and all those sisters, Skipper (who recently acquired tiny boobs), and Stacie and Kelly who became Chelsea cause I have no idea. There’s even a baby, except the baby is totally not hers, it’s another little sister. Even though Barbie’s like at least 25. Suuuure, Barbie, we totally believe you. By the way, have you contacted Duke from G.I. Joe for support payments? Just wondering.
And therein lies the fun of playing house when you’re older. You can sneak in all that real-life stuff that goes on behind the dream house. In other words, you can make Barbie’s life just as dysfunctional as your own. At least that’s what the girls and I like to do. I am so glad I had girls so that I can say I’m totally buying this crap for them. Though, really, why be ashamed? ES has ponies! And lots of people collect stuff. It keeps us young. And immature. And for a little while, you forget about your real laundry or real toilet or real job.
Cause Barbie does it all. I love that they recently gave that chick a washer and a dryer. She had to have Cinderella come over to show her how to use it. On the plus side, she loves pink, so not knowing how to sort works out well for her. And if the clothes are totally wrecked, she just buys more on the credit card she took out in Ken’s name that he doesn’t know about yet.
She’s had roughly 300 careers or so, probably cause she is constantly fired once they realize her resume is full of fake stuff like “Totally went to the moon once” and “good with children and zoo animals.” Still, she manages to keep up appearances by owing about half the national debt and otherwise hitting up various boyfriends for nice presents. Like Paris Hilton, only Barbie’s not quite so plastic.
One of Barbie’s most recent careers is “Entrepreneur” – she comes with an Ipad, a cellphone, and of course a purse. My brother snorted and said she couldn’t even spell entrepreneur much less be one, but she also ran for president a while back, and that doesn’t require spelling or even knowledge of geography, so I figure she’ll be just fine. Maybe she’ll open an account on Etsy and fill it with clothes she ripped off from her friends. Midge is a married crone now, so she will never miss all the nice stuff she used to wear.
Barbie’s friends come and go, probably because she’s a selfish twit. On the other hand, she might be sneakier than we know, and have them buried under her dream house. Now that would be an interesting new career: serial killer. More realistic than cop (though this would be the best cover-up) or pilot (I would not get on her plane).
Anyway, since she can’t keep Barbie friends, she hangs with the Disney princesses, cause all those gals are catty. Sure they look nice in the movies, but you didn’t see when Sleeping Beauty (Aurora) went out with Prince Charming (I saw someone say his name was Adam but I really think it was Charming cause his father was a moron)- there was a nasty fight there. But as it turned out, it was all a simple mistake. Aurora was drowsy and those princes are so hard to tell apart anyway. So all was forgiven. After Cinderella let her mice out in Aurora’s castle.
Anyway, we’ve had some fun playing Life after the Fairy Tale with Barbie and her Princess Posse. Not that surprising – remember we glittered the crap out of a pony. Anyway, if you’re feeling down, grab a Barbie and relive your childhood. Giving her a mohawk is a good first step.
To Dion’s (a la Runaround Sue) “Dream Lover”
I bet Dion’s mommy made him all those sweaters.
Every night I hope and pray a dream mother will come and stay
A mom to do my all my chores so I can lay back and snore
Because I want, a mom, to take care of me
I want a dream mother, so I don’t have to be an adult
Dream mother, where are you?
This life is more than I can chew
I want your hand to hold
Like when I was a ten-year-old
Because I want, a mom, to pay my bills
I want a dream mother, so I don’t have to go to work
Some day, I don’t know when
I’m gonna be a kid again
So what about Thing One and Two?
Well, she can be their mom too
Because I want, a mom, to do my laundry
I want a dream mother, so I don’t have to wash undies
Dream mother, you aren’t real
How am I supposed to feel?
I can’t take care of me
Maybe I can get a nanny?
Because I want, a mom, to live my life
I want a dream mother, so I can finally take a nap
I was gonna write a post about this today, and like how I haven’t posted or answered comments or anything. Meh. Maybe next week.
How I see my life . . . (Click to Enlarge)
Poooooooocanhontas, where the wind comes whistling down with colorssss! Sorry about that. I just can’t say that name without thinking of the musical Oklahoma. It fits perfectly. And frankly, Pocahontas starring in a production of Oklahoma would be about as realistic as the Disney version, and involve a lot more hoe downs.
Okay, so story starts off with hunky Aryan explorer who can never convincingly reserve a hotel room, John Smith. John Smith is manly, ya’ll, and you can tell by the way he hops on a cannon while singing. All his crew have man crushes on him, including this one kid, Wesley Crusher I think, who he saves from drowning so he can later shoot Kokopuffs. Oops, spoiler.
Next we have dramatic fog and Native American chanting and oh boy are we going to a reservation? Oh, wait, this is before Our Hero so they are still merrily picking corn and rowing canoes and beating drums and stuff. Pocahontas, or “Pokey” as I like to call her, is up on top of a cliff ready to jump like 500 feet into the water. This should be a short story. But no, she lives and oh we get how she’s like super brave and not at all stupid. It helps that she’s beautiful (except for a missing nose) and has a great bod.
Next we get Pops, the chief and Pokey’s dad. Mom’s dead of course, this is Disney. Dad wants her to marry Kokopuffs (that was his name, right?) but Pokey doesn’t cause he’s like really hot and built and brave but hey, where is his sense of humor huh? What the heck does her stupid dad expect, I mean jeez. At least in this one, Dad is not a Weeble.
Pokey is upset about this so she talks to a tree that OMG A FACE! How did her grandmother get in the Willow Tree? Holy crap that was weird. Anyway, she asks her for advice on her dream about a spinning arrow and like all “wise ones” she yammers some nonsense like “listen to your heart.” Thanks for nothing, grams.
So mostly everything is going okay until the white people get there to screw everything up. We’re good at that. On the whitey side is the femmy head of the expedition, Ratface, er Ratcliffe (his actual name). He has – oh boy, a cute little pug sidekick! Let’s kick it to the side. He also has an even girlier lackey who skips about helping him prepare. This is meant to contrast John, who is like not fancy prancy but All Man.
All Man turns out to mean “suicidal”. While Ratty immediately starts digging up the land for gold (destroying crap is a great way to make a good first impression), manly man Smith starts leaping around tall mountains and singing. “The greatest adventure is mine! Maybe I’ll meet a hot chick!”
While he’s doing this, Pokey is stalking him along with her sidekicks (why, just why) an irritating raccoon and a hummingbird. Whatever. Part of the movie is taken up with the pug and the raccoon running around so the kids won’t go to sleep during the romance junk.
So John hears her and he gets his gun and then Pokey walks out of this fog in this awesome model pose and John’s all whoa I really wanna – get to know her. But, oh no, they don’t speak the same language. How will they . . . oh, right, they stand close and leaves blow around them and BANG automatic universal translator. Convenient.
John calls her a “savage” (oh wait, I only meant your non-hot people!) so Pokey schools him by dragging him all over the wilderness while singing about blue corn moons and painting mountains and wind colors and I think maybe the Native Americans were growing more than corn. She clearly has some sort of leaf blower power, cause leaves are always swirling around her body and in her Pert Plus hair.
Meanwhile Pokey’s dad sends some scouts to check out the new guys, and one of them gets shot and he gets this wild idea that these peeps might be dangerous. He calls some of his friends over for backup.
John tells Ratty that there’s no gold so naturally he figures the Indians are hidin’ it and they should kill them all! Perfectly logical plan there.
But that won’t stop our lovebirds! Pokey gets caught by her pal, but hey, what’s the threat of war when you’re in luss . . . love! John sneaks out too, and is followed by Wesley the brat he saved earlier. John and Pokey make out, but turns out Pokey’s pal ratted her out and oh oh Kokopuffs is pissed, and tries to put a tomahawk in John’s skull but Wesley shoots him dead. Whoops. I never saw this coming, did you?
John is captured and waits execution while Ratty gets his men together to rescue John and retrieve the weapons of mass des- the gold. Pokey is still confused, so she wastes time yammering to the willow tree before figuring out that she should maybe stop this. At the last second, she flings herself over John, stopping the club. She reasons with her Dad, who is suddenly like oh, okay, let’s all stop fighting and stuff, what was I thinking?
But too late cause Ratty tries to shoot him. John plays the hero and takes the bullet (omg he is so manly). The settlers turn on Ratty, but there’s no happy ending for John and Pokey cause John has to be taken home to be treated (the natives can’t pull out a bullet?) and Pokey must stay to keep peace (yeah that’s gonna work). They make out in front of Dad a bit then John sails away while Pokey shoots some leaves his way in goodbye. Aw.
Now for the “behind the fairy tale”. If you think Disney goofed up fairy tales, that ain’t nothin’ compared to what they do to actual historical figures. The real Pocahontas was roughly eleven when she met the twenty-eight year old John Smith. You can clearly see the romance potential here, but no, they were just friends, sorry Lolita fans.
John Smith (who was an explorer but hairier and not quite as hunky) did write that she saved his life when they were about to smack him in the head with a rock. Others say he had a tendency to brag about women saving his life (totally macho there) and that possibly he misunderstood and this was really just a ritual, not an execution. Either way a large blunt object was involved, so I’m not sure if it matters all that much. At least it didn’t to John.
Disney does include several of the real people – well their names anyway, the actual setting, Jamestown, and the famous rock incident which was probably true. They leave out the part where she later is kidnapped by the English she’d been feeding and held for ransom but Daddy didn’t want to give up his guns so she got to get all Christianized and married to an Englishman and her name changed to Rebecca and entire culture obliterated for a new one, oh and also how she was dragged to England to be paraded around like a monkey before catching smallpox and dying at about 21. Fun stuff. I can’t believe Disney left this out.
Stay tuned next time when Disney decides to lighten things up with The Hunchback of Notre Dame!
So I’ve been thinking about what to write and I’ve had no gripping, world-changing ideas lately. Because nothing compares to that whole condiment Sex Ed discussion. You can’t just hide your spices away and pretend nothing is happening people!
I could use the excuse of not being able to type on account of my fractured arm and my messed up toe (if I wrote with my toes that is). That was why I loaned my blog to Thing Two for a little bit (ten-year-olds: you give them an inch and they want your whole blog). Thing One had part of a post ready to go but then declared she was too lazy to finish it. At least she’s honest.
I can write now, even though my arm is still messed up, just as long as I don’t turn my arm like this. OW. The doc said I have to keep moving it or it will get stiff so you know, keep messin’ with that elbow. Pain is good! I have exercises for my arm that make me look like I’m doing the Robot.
So I was thinking I should get back to the old writing gig. But wait, maybe not, cause I just got a negative comment the other day from a concerned reader who Googled his name. The comment was on an old post entitled “Libraries are for Porn?” (because I am always classy) that featured a list of silly reasons people offered for banning books. Here’s a bit I lifted from that post including the list.
- “Encourages children to break dishes so they won’t have to dry them.” ( A Light in the Attic, by Shel Silverstien)
- “It caused a wave of rapes.” ( Arabian Nights, or Thousand and One Nights, anonymous)
- “If there is a possibility that something might be controversial, then why not eliminate it?” ( Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, by Dee Brown)
- “Tarzan was ‘living in sin’ with Jane.” ( Tarzan, by Edgar Rice Burroughs)
- “It is a real ‘downer.’” ( Diary of Anne Frank, by Anne Frank)
- “The basket carried by Little Red Riding Hood contained a bottle of wine, which condones the use of alcohol.” ( Little Red Riding Hood, by Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm K. Grimm)
- “One bunny is white and the other is black and this ‘brainwashes’ readers into accepting miscegenation.” ( The Rabbit’s Wedding, by Garth Williams)
- “A female dog is called a bitch.” ( My Friend Flicka, by Mary O’Hara)
- “An unofficial version of the story of Noah’s Ark will confuse children.” ( Many Waters, by Madeleine C. L’Engle)
If you think no one would really suggest banning a book for such a stupid reason, you clearly have too much faith in the human race.
Anyway, here’s the comment:
Anyhoo, back to the blog. I’m wondering what to write about next (and how to make more people angry). I’ve had other themes I’ve started and never finished like Game of Thrones reviews (interest in violent nakey parody seems to have waned), the “Behind the Fairy Tale” series (I’m to Pocahontas – ZOMG how can I not do that? There’s just so much there, so many, many awful jokes), and of course my tortures of virtual people like Boppo Sadface that are my most popular posts, taking over from the Dragon Tales psychopaths who were seeking out my blog. Now people just want to know how to kill pixels. Refreshing.
But what do you want, good readers? Let me know in the comments below!
Hello, its thing two here. Mom had fell down last night and wailed right next to my sisters room (and never heard a thing somehow) while i was working my way to the matrix of sleeping.Then i heard a big wail and had a sigh of greif “gosh darn thing1, not another nightmare of being at grandmas.” i stumbled out of my bunk and fell on the second step to find mom on the floor covered in laundry. She turned out to have a broken toe and fractured wrist,so no typing for her. So she decided I should write a post today cause of all my 100’s i got in writing. So here it goes.
Ever since my friend had showed me the awesomeness that could happen in a survial game i am now in a objective i like to call “minecraftian slave” i watch minecraft videos every single day. if you don’t know what minecraft is then let me simply explain it to you
minecraft is a real life based game where you have to survive in the wild to live, you can build, craft and mine (duh its called MINEcraft). there are also mobs to avoid such as spiders,zombies,creepers,enderman,skeletons, and also cute animals that roam around and you kill for food and villagers that you can trade.
minecraft is an amazing game advalibile on xbox, pc and tablet that lets just say MOST AWESOME ADICTING GAME EVER X3!!!!!!!!! adventaly i don’t have the game, so i just watch lots of videos here are some minecraft youtubers i watch
7. team crafted
Do you get it now? just in case RANDOM POPULARMMOS VIDEO ABOUT BLOWING THINGS UP!!!! (link drop!)