The Bus Bench

Font Funnies (Or: Time for A Type Twister)

I am no fan of typical college humour, owing to the tits and ass approach that defines this negligible albeit too-ubiquitous form of "comedy." But I found that this professionally produced video was damn sharp despite one or two moments of glib bits. (Century Gothic is one of my favourite typefaces, and the goth girl representation was dim; the final exclamation by Wingdings is not subtitled but a translation of the glyphs will reveal gobbledygook.) For fans of typography, it is sure to draw laughs.

-BusTard

Stress. Grief. Metro.

 
'nuff said.

-BusTard

FUCK PUNCTUATION WEEK!*

Fuck National Punctuation Week!

FUCK, National Punctuation Week!

Fuck national punctuation; weak!
         (for fans of phonetics, of course)

Fuck. Natural Punctuation—WHAT?

Being a newspaper copy editor and production artist (the latter being a bloated term meaning that my eyes know the same pain—from strain—that was found in the collective hot-wax-hardened hand of strippers prior to DTP; I know both punishments equally), I tend to get behind on Mondays owing to it being the busiest of the three days during which I am working on the weekly paper at which I work. Worse, my memory tends to be short while my sentences run painfully long. Come Tuesday, I file the fucker The Paper, and tend to that which I failed to do Monday.
Seeing as I failed to formally celebrate National Punctuation Day—one might state that my lack of punctuality is itself never late in exhibiting itself—I am going to get on with it before “hump day” overtakes me. (Or should I eliminate quotation marks —neé double inverted commas—and just call it Hump Day?)
Anyhow.
The cursing having been accommodated (see above), let us now tackle the inevitable dash of pretension as well as some unmitigated idiocy—all in one insipid dollop. Hence my query: “Could it be that punctuation marks are transmogrified serifs? If so, what shape might the subsequent manifestation take? A sub-set of ultra-lower case lettres? Mayhap a malfeasant family of alpha-numeric-puncto marks? What if a whole new alphabet emerges to eliminate the english** language, a new tongue not unlike the mercury-mutated bear in Prophecy or the strange baby in It’s Alive!?! (After all, both monsters were born from past crimes and, like Frankenstein’s monster, reacted with fatal results as well as fatally.)
Then I got hold of myself as well as my crusty olde crystal tumbler and nearly half-empty bottle of cheap-ass blended scotch, enjoyed one last comma and got down to doing some serious drinking.

*Apologies to Bill Walsh, sorta. . . after all, I am unable to find  ONE SINGLE GOD-DAMMED NEWS AGENT IN ALL OF LOS ANGELES what sells the Washington Post, except one, and that place only barely counts because it is FUCKING PHOTOCOPIED on ledger-sized, 24-lb paper!!!

**The lower-case “e” in “english” was deliberate, owing to my problem with political boundaries.