5 Dolla Foot Loooong

I told myself I was going to stop patronizing (shopping at, not condescending) Subway (the restaurant, not the tunnel) a while back when they refused to honor one of THEIR OWN gift cards. After a few minutes of totally unnecessary bargaining, they sent me on my way, turkey sandwich in hand.

One should never have to negotiate for government cheese.

I hadn't been there in some time. Maybe a few weeks. The franchise owners at my local Subway must have noticed that I'd been boycotting their store. And they must have relayed this to the corporate office, cause they've been trying to win me back ever since with their new advertising campaign; a mind-numbing jingle that haunts my dreams.

Since the "5 dollar footlong" campaign launched I've eaten several Subway sandwiches. I don't see the trend ending either; they have this big sign out front that reduces me to Pavlov's dog whenever I walk by. Worst of all, I think they know that I'm powerless to inexpensive, lengthy food. I swear I spotted this sly little grin on the cashier's face last time he rang me up. Shifty bastard.

He definitely knows.

Burger Police

Have a listen to this most unusual 911 call. Don't worry, I'll wait.



If I were the 911 dispatcher, I would certainly have sent a deputy... this woman should be locked up immediately.

Bats Perish, And I Know Why

Today the New York Times ran a story called: "Bats Perish, and No One Knows Why." I guess 90% of the bat population has died off in the Northeast, and eco-batologist-types are worried the world is about to end. Worst of all, no one knows why this is happening... no one... except me.

Here are the facts: Bats hang out in pitch black caves year-round. When they leave their dreary, subterranean dens, they seem to keel over and die. Why am I not surprised?

First off, bats are just about the weirdest looking thing left on the planet.

Yikes. It's furry and translucent. That's a winning combo. The truth is, weird looking things inevitably die off. Take the dodo bird, for instance. It looks like an albatross raped a pigeon. EXTINCT. Or the woolly mammoth. Some people say Native Americans killed them off. Nope. They're just ugly. Think about it, what's uglier than an elephant... that's right, an elephant covered in shaggy, brown hair. EXTINCT.

As for bats, I'm pretty sure it was Darwin who said, "animals that look like miniature-pterodactyl-mice will perish." It's probably on page 1 of that book he wrote that Creationists hate so much. The only time furry, translucent creatures get any ass is when they're in dark caves. It's a lot like how drunk people--who would otherwise find each other revolting--hook up in dimly lit dive bars. If you can't see who you're banging, it's hard to object.

And that, my friends, is why bats have lasted so long. It's the caves. Plain and simple. If they keep leaving their caves, venturing out into broad daylight, they will inevitably, and steadily, decline as a species.

Shit-And-Run

Uh, oh...
Click image to enlarge
Let recap: A homeless man broke into the HOMELAND SECURITY offices in BROAD DAYLIGHT on a FRIDAY AFTERNOON. And then, he took a dump in, not one, but SEVERAL rooms before escaping without a trace (or is it skid mark?)

He must really hate our freedom.

It's Pork, Suckers

If you happen to be extremely high right now, the idea of a bacon infused lollipop probably doesn't seem like such a bad idea. But I'm sober. And I can tell you with absolute certainty: it's a bad idea. It's a very bad idea. But that didn't stop the crack-team over at Lollyphile, developers of the self-proclaimed "least kosher lollipop in the history of candy," the Maple-Bacon-Lollipop.

And you thought Americans were fat enough.

The last time I craved meat-wrapped candy was, well... pretty much never. But since they're only 52 dollars for a package of 36, I'll take none. Thanks Lollyphile, don't quit your day job. Oh, wait. You already did. And you started a company called Lollyphile. Here's the back-story, from their website's about section:

"We started waaaaaay back around Halloween of 2007 when we found ourselves with a lot of absinthe and no candy. One thing led to another, and we ended up getting picked up by a few candy boutiques and building a website, which got way more business than we'd ever expected it would."

No shit. Your business started with a bottle of absinthe and no candy. So you were drunk/hallucinating and decided, "hey, let's put some pork on a lollipop." And now you're rich 'cause a bunch of idiots are willing to pay $52 for a box of pork-pops.

I don't care what you say. That's the American Dream.

Really Crude Oil

The price of gasoline hit an all-time high today. According to Reuters, "The rise in pump prices comes as crude oil vaults to new peaks near $110 per barrel amid an increase in speculative investing in commodities and concerns that world energy consumption will outpace new supply."

I have no idea what that means. But I do know this:

$110 a barrel. 20 gallon tank. Carry the 1... I'd say the price to fill up an SUV today is roughly equivalent to 45 seconds with one of Governor Eliot Spitzer's whores.

Now, I sort of understand paying $4.00 per gallon on gas. It's basically the same as a gallon of milk. And squeezing utters is a whole lot easier than drilling oil wells in the middle of the desert. Especially with all the bullets whizzing by. But 5 grand an hour for a hooker? That's just absurd. It's 2008. Hookers are free. It's called Craig's List: Casual Encounters, Governor... or should I say Eliot?

He hasn't officially resigned, but Google's already replaced him. And Google pretty much knows everything.

The Audacity Of Pigeons

Fuck pigeons.

These rash little motherfuckers seem to have conspired against me city-wide. You probably think I'm joking. "Oh that's funny. Pigeons don't conspire," you'll say. No. It's not funny. And yes, they do. I swear upon all that is holy, at least once a day, a pigeon flies two inches over my head without warning. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of their poor judgment and utter disregard for my safely. I'm also sick of their white, pasty shit falling from the sky--but that's another story.

Listen pigeon, if I'm walking down the sidewalk, and you're pecking away at a morsel of rye, there is no reason--I repeat: NO REASON--to flip out, flap your wings frantically, and take off like a scud missile in the direction of my face.

I don't deserve this. Please stop.

If one more of you reckless, irresponsible bastards so much as jostles a hair on my head, I'll be forced to plant bread crumbs soaked in arsenic around the city. Either that, or I'm going to get a hat fitted with those anti-roosting bird spikes. Maybe getting impaled will teach you to calm the fuck down.

Score One For Decrepit Old People!

John McCain secured the Republican nomination last light with victories in Texas and Ohio. He even had this big sign that said "1191". I'm not sure if that's his age or the year he was born, but either way, he's pushing a millennium.

In other really-old-white-guy news, Larry King attempted to move gracefully on national television. As it turns out, teaching Larry King how to dance is like trying to teach a quadriplegic to walk. He looked like a robot with a short circuit. At one point, when Janet Jackson attempted to pry his stiff, ossified arm from the side of his lifeless body, he mumbled, with a discernible hint of despair, "I'm a struggling Jew" before giving up altogether. If you watch one video for the rest of your life, make it this one:



Interestingly, the feeling I get when I watch Larry King dance is the same feeling I got when John McCain kissed his wife after his victory speech: some things are just not meant for public consumption.

You Might Be A Redneck If...

You think taking a trip to Wal-Mart is like going to Cinderella's ball.


[Source: Some guy's Flickr.]