Careercow Robert Chipman / Bob / Moviebob / "Movieblob" - Middle-Aged Consoomer, CWC with a Thesaurus, Ardent Male Feminist and Superior Futurist, the Twice-Fired, the Mario-Worshipper, publicly dismantled by Hot Dog Girl, now a diabetic

How will Bob react to seeing the Mario film?


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The thing is, being a vegan is only expensive if you're too lazy to learn how to make your own food taste good. Looking up something like "budget ingredients" or "poor man's kitchen" will bring up lists that are 95% made up of vegan foods. I know a vegan who makes fucking great Japanese and Thai food and it barely costs him anything. Makes his own bread and hummus too. If he's lazy he just eats oatmeal. I personally couldn't be a vegan, but my friend makes me realize that people like blob really have no excuse to at least try to eat better. There's so many resources online for basic recipes.

Little purchases like daily 6 dollar burgers and lattes add up more than ingredients ever could, vegan or not. I hope early quarantine last year made a lot of people realize that.
The reason Bob doesn't eat better is because he's a terrible cook. When he does cook, I'm almost certain he just "wings it" based on memory or adds to recipes he finds online. The result is always horrifying.

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I think he's either been mocked enough online to know not to post pictures of the horrors he shovels down his maw, or he's given up cooking and now just orders delivery from McDonalds.
 
The reason Bob doesn't eat better is because he's a terrible cook. When he does cook, I'm almost certain he just "wings it" based on memory or adds to recipes he finds online. The result is always horrifying.


I think he's either been mocked enough online to know not to post pictures of the horrors he shovels down his maw, or he's given up cooking and now just orders delivery from McDonalds.
To be fair (although Bob doesn't deserve it) lighting can really fuck up how good or bad food looks on camera. I've seen people post pictures of the same meal with natural light and camera light, and the same gourmet meal looks like slop.

Even with that in mind, none of this looks appetizing. With standards for food this low, no wonder Bob got fat.
 
The reason Bob doesn't eat better is because he's a terrible cook. When he does cook, I'm almost certain he just "wings it" based on memory or adds to recipes he finds online. The result is always horrifying.


I think he's either been mocked enough online to know not to post pictures of the horrors he shovels down his maw, or he's given up cooking and now just orders delivery from McDonalds.
unlike Bob, I can actually wing stuff and mostly get away with it, because I don't fucking suck at cooking. (Watching Gordon Ramsay helps, as did Home Economics classes through middle and high school).

And I'd never, EVER fucking marinate chicken in Mountain Don't, especially if I had beetus. EW. It's like jeebuz, Bob, you've got the beetus, take it easy with the sugar already.

Also if he keeps the constant buzz with booze all day long, fucker's goona become footless fuhrer because beer and wine and hard stuff is just pure fucking sugar and is in no way beetus friendly for the amount he drinks in a day.
 
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There's an interesting discussion involving Bob's relationship with alcohol. I'd like to present some of my observations.

We can all agree that Bob spends an unhealthy amount of time on Twitter. The question is how he interprets this relationship. Have you noticed that when he's desperate for asspats or getting bodied in an argument, he's quick to shout that he's so busy with so many projects and it's time to go? Bob doesn't view Twitter as a fun distraction or networking tool. The idiot sees Twitter as an obligation. If you or I spent the majority of the day searching out every Republican to snipe with long-winded pithy comments, we'd call that a wasted day. If a friend called to ask what we're doing, we'd answer, "Nothing. Wanna get out and do something?" Bob honestly thinks he's changing hearts and minds. Notice that he doesn't talk, he proselytizes. Must be exhausting shouting at morons all day.

From his warped view, Bob feels like he's dropping 14 hour days 365 days of the year. Being an isolated drama queen protected from perspective of knowing people actually laboring, he eases his tremendous obligation of converting the masses by crushing cans and rewarding his good work with food. It's fair to reward himself because he's the hardest working man in America. He's entitled to his vices.

The self-imposed isolation is the only tool that keeps this fantasy functioning. Sure, he communicates with astrotard Chris. Chris won't call him out because he desperately wants Bob's lifestyle, likely because his coworkers treat him like the mutant he is. Women can't stand him - his public embarrassments are evidence enough that he can't talk with a female to save his life. He'd get no sympathy from anybody living in Boston. Let's pretend he started talking that obsolete workers bullshit in a bar. The first tile setter or trim carpenter that heard him would verbally carve his ass up like a Christmas goose. If Bob clapped back, they'd drag him outside and kick the shit out of him. Given that he hasn't reported on getting wrecked by MAGA hate mongers, he doesn't dare venture outside.

So Bob's drinking? The occupational hazard of declaring oneself a martyr and barricading inside where nobody can dispute it. He sees it as the necessary burden of great intelligence. The mentally tortured artist needs his medicine.
 
I've said this before, but I don't believe Bob is a drunk, at least not in the way that he makes out. His tall tales of waking up in a hotel lobby in Chinatown with no memory of the previous night sound like locker room braggadocio- and as evidence, I ask you: has he, at any point in the last five years, been off Twitter long enough for such a blackout night of partying to occur? Has he ever tweeted anything while clearly impaired beyond his usual retardation? Hell, his waifu Hotdog Girl spends a lot less time talking about her drinking habits and managed to produce a chef's-kiss-tier mugshot by getting fucked up in public, so we know that happened. Bob has yet to prove that he even goes outside.

No, I think his "hard partying" is slinging back of few cans of PBR or some other shit-tier beer while tweeting about gassing the mayo ghouls, followed by some desultory jerking off to She-Ra porn on DeviantArt, then passing out to do it all again. Thing Ignatius Reilly with consoomerism in place of the classics.
Game Theory: What if he's actually drunk constantly, and that's why his Twitter is an endless stream of batshit drivel?

In all seriousness though I agree, but I do think Bob might be a 'functional' alcoholic in the sense he drinks every single day by himself but never to the point of blackout inebriation. God knows if I lived his life I'd need to be at least 3 cans deep at any given time just to numb the pain of existing as Bob Chipman.
 
Game Theory: What if he's actually drunk constantly, and that's why his Twitter is an endless stream of batshit drivel?

In all seriousness though I agree, but I do think Bob might be a 'functional' alcoholic in the sense he drinks every single day by himself but never to the point of blackout inebriation. God knows if I lived his life I'd need to be at least 3 cans deep at any given time just to numb the pain of existing as Bob Chipman.
Having spent a long time living that low tier alcoholism lifestyle myself, it's easy to see why he's so miserable. Living like that is tiring, you never have any energy to get up and go and eventually after maintaining it for ten hours it starts to just settle into an endless foggy headache.
 
Having spent a long time living that low tier alcoholism lifestyle myself, it's easy to see why he's so miserable. Living like that is tiring, you never have any energy to get up and go and eventually after maintaining it for ten hours it starts to just settle into an endless foggy headache.
Likewise, part of the reason I hate Bob so much is the strong 'there but for the grace of God...' vibe I personally get from him, but at the end of the day wallowing in self-imposed misery only goes so far; eventually you have to make the choice to get your shit together or die angry and alone.

Unsurprisingly, at 40 years old, it seems Bob has chosen the path of least resistance.
I'm sure he's said that he has rum with his breakfast.
Poured right onto his Frosties, no doubt.
 
Likewise, part of the reason I hate Bob so much is the strong 'there but for the grace of God...' vibe I personally get from him, but at the end of the day wallowing in self-imposed misery only goes so far; eventually you have to make the choice to get your shit together or die angry and alone.
I get this 1000%. Bob is my favorite lolcow because he's my cautionary tale. My life is just a couple of important decisions removed from being just like Bob. It was my wife that straightened me out, but Bob is too far gone down his insane rabbit hole to attract someone to keep him on the right path. I was a self absorbed alcoholic high on my own fumes, but at the very least I wasn't obese and I didn't want to gas anyone who disagrees with me.
 
That is my top priority, believe me.

Which is what Bob and Chris tragically can't do. I have theorized Pa Chipman to be a Boomer that couldn't fully understand Bob's choice to be a cultural critic with the education he paid for or his son's Mario obsession. If anything I imagine that he wanted Bob to be a director--anything that involved working in the industry rather than film skits with Chris in a clearing. My frame of reference is that my own father is one of my biggest champions for getting my published and helped me quite a bit to that end. He got me to talk to his pastor who then hooked me up with the publisher that published my book. I think he wanted Bob to succeed, but Bob was too stubborn to change his ways.
I'm pretty sure it was around the time his dad died he said that pa never "got" what Bob was trying to accomplish with his video antics. I always took that to mean that pa told him to go after a real profession and Bob being Bob refused to give up his tomfoolery.
 
To be fair (although Bob doesn't deserve it) lighting can really fuck up how good or bad food looks on camera. I've seen people post pictures of the same meal with natural light and camera light, and the same gourmet meal looks like slop.
True, though I imagine it takes a special talent for poor photography to make cooked chicken look raw like that 2nd Dew chicken shot.
 
To be fair (although Bob doesn't deserve it) lighting can really fuck up how good or bad food looks on camera. I've seen people post pictures of the same meal with natural light and camera light, and the same gourmet meal looks like slop.

Even with that in mind, none of this looks appetizing. With standards for food this low, no wonder Bob got fat.
I would like you to go back and reread the tweets. In particular, the parts about marinating chicken for three days in Mountain Dew, or soaking the chicken for five days in three different hot sauces.

It has nothing to do with his photography skills (which are abysmal), and everything to do with what he chose to do with his food.
unlike Bob, I can actually wing stuff and mostly get away with it, because I don't fucking suck at cooking. (Watching Gordon Ramsay helps, as did Home Economics classes through middle and high school).

And I'd never, EVER fucking marinate chicken in Mountain Don't, especially if I had beetus. EW. It's like jeebuz, Bob, you've got the beetus, take it easy with the sugar already.

Also if he keeps the constant buzz with booze all day long, fucker's goona become footless fuhrer because beer and wine and hard stuff is just pure fucking sugar and is in no way beetus friendly for the amount he drinks in a day.
I'm fairly sure his cooking is how Bob got the beetus. I don't think he was born with it.
 
The Twilight Zone made an entire episode with a proto-MovieBob in it: Four O' Clock. Oliver Crangle is what MovieBob would have been like in the 1950s, screeching about subversives and Communists instead of MAGAhats and MayoGhouls.


"That's Oliver Crangle, a dealer in petulance and poison. He's rather arbitrarily chosen four o'clock as his personal Götterdämmerung, and we are about to watch the metamorphosis of a twisted fanatic, poisoned by the gangrene of prejudice, to the status of an avenging angel, upright and omniscient, dedicated and fearsome. Whatever your clocks say, it's four o'clock, and wherever you are it happens to be the Twilight Zone."
Interesting that you bring that up. Oliver Crangle from "Four O'Clock" is one of (at least) three Twilight Zone characters whose personalities so closely resemble Moviebob, they outright predicted Bob with startling accuracy.

The first is the Chancellor from "The Obsolete Man" (a state loyalist whose own cowardice renders himself obsolete):
He was obsolete, but so was the state, the entity he worshipped. [Any state, entity, or ideology becomes obsolete when it stockpiles the wrong weapons: when it captures territories, but not minds; when it enslaves millions, but convinces nobody. When it is naked, yet puts on armor and calls it faith, while in the Eyes of God it has no faith at all.] Any state, any entity, any ideology that fails to recognize the worth, the dignity, the rights of man, that state is obsolete.

The second: Wallace V. Whipple from "Brain center at Whipple's" (a technofascist who pushes for the complete automation of manual labor):
There are many bromides applicable here: 'too much of a good thing', 'tiger by the tail', 'as you sow so shall you reap'. The point is that, too often, Man becomes clever instead of becoming wise; he becomes inventive and not thoughtful; and sometimes, as in the case of Mr. Whipple, he can create himself right out of existence.
 
The thing is acidic marinade are fairly common, but you usually do them for a couple of hours, not the week Bob does.

I can only imagine the nightmare texture of that chicken.

The fact that we never saw a post-meal report leads me to believe that when Bob finally opened the bag, the result was so rotten that even he realized he'd ruined it beyond salvaging.
 
At least on the Internet I think people (which is the proper plural of "person", not "conspiracy theorists") decided transhumanism was a bad idea around the time it stopped being about cool cyborgs and A Mind Forever Voyaging kind of stuff and started being about websites like LessWrong and their genius takes. Like the time some of them argued themselves into believing - and panicking - about AI Satan/God From the Future coming for clones of their souls.
Roko Basilisk and the reaction to it is probably one of the funniest things ever. It is pretty much the same as arguing that unless you have children as soon as possible, they will kill you in your sleep for taking your time. Truly only something the great conglomeration of intellectual midgets that is the online rationalist movement could produce.
The thing is, being a vegan is only expensive if you're too lazy to learn how to make your own food taste good. Looking up something like "budget ingredients" or "poor man's kitchen" will bring up lists that are 95% made up of vegan foods. I know a vegan who makes fucking great Japanese and Thai food and it barely costs him anything. Makes his own bread and hummus too. If he's lazy he just eats oatmeal. I personally couldn't be a vegan, but my friend makes me realize that people like blob really have no excuse to at least try to eat better. There's so many resources online for basic recipes
Strictly speaking veganism runs into some nutritional issues, since some vital amino acids are only found in animal derivates. Vegetarianism, however, is very healthy, and you can theoretically avoid the animal abuse with eggs by raising your own chickens(dairy is more complex, but still can be done in a economical fashion by using goats and using hormones rather than insemination).
 
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