Chest Bumpin'

And you thought the Navy couldn't get any gayer...


"Stick your butt out, cadet! For the camera."

"Yes, Mr. President!"

"A little further, you motorboatin' sonuvabitch."

The Love Bug

Wilt Chamberlain is perhaps the NBA's most prolific player. He's the only one to have scored 100 points in a game. He's won rebounding and assist titles. He's appeared in 13 all-star games and won two NBA titles. And he's even authored books and appeared in awesomely bad Schwarzenegger films like Conan the Destroyer. Yet his most notable accomplishment--and the one that's most oft quoted--is the fact that he's slept with 20,000 women.

Then, there's Edward Smith. A man you've probably never heard of. He hasn't won any awards. And he sucks at basketball. He is, however, encroaching on one of Wilt's records--only not with women... with cars.

That's right. Ed likes to fuck automobiles. In fact, he's been caressing cars since the age of 15. Currently, he's got a steady, live-in girlfriend: Vanilla. A white Volkswagen Beetle. But he's not one to settle; Ed's had sex with over 1,000 cars. Most recently, a 1973 Opal GT, named Cinnamon, and a 1993 Ford Ranger Splash that he calls Ginger.

I guess the only question left--aside from how the hell he does it--is why? Why cars?

According to Ed: "When I turned 13 and the famous Corvette Stingray came about, that car was pure sex and just an incredible machine. I wanted it. There are moments way out in the middle of nowhere when I see a little car parked and I swear it needs loving."

Loving? I swear cars don't need anything. Except maybe gas and the occasional tune up. They certainly do not need Ed's greasy dick shimmying in and out of the tailpipe. I don't care how loud the engine is purring. It's not telling you to stick it in.

Nickel And Dimed

You may have heard that American Airlines is now charging passengers $15 for each checked suitcase on domestic flights, in order to cover soaring fuel prices.

Think that's bad business? Sometimes it's helpful to put things in perspective.

Imagine if Taco Bell required costumers to bring their own roll of toilet paper, citing rising sales of the 89 Cent Cheesy Double Beef Burrito.

Now that's a shitty policy.

Twitter

You may have noticed the strange Twitter logo off to the right. If you click it, you'll be taken to my Twitter page. But what's Twitter? And why should you care?

To answer in reverse order: caring is debatable. But, if I haven't posted in a few days, you might find updates on my Twitter page. It's where I'll write anything and everything that comes to mind (in 140 characters or less.)

Some people write things like "Eating pizza at UNO's. Yum." on their Twitter page. I will not be taking this approach. Unless I'm eating hamster testicles on Fear Factor, you won't hear about it. I will, however, be posting random thoughts and off-color commentary. A lot like this blog, only shorter, and surrounded by fluffy white clouds (you'll see what I mean when you get there.)

Enjoy.

Yahoo!

Today, I was going to write about how the Iranian President (sorry, too lazy to look up the correct spelling of his name) looks a lot like Butt-Head.


Sort of uncanny, right?

But then, my train of thought was unceremoniously derailed. Do me a favor: turn your speakers on, head over to Yahoo! and click on the exclamation point on the logo. [Seriously, do it.]

An exclamation point that yodels?? I defy you to tell me that's not the most obnoxious goddamn thing on the face of the earth. If there is something stupider out there, I'm all ears.

An Open Letter To Blogger

Dear Blogger Support Staff,

Whenever I try to edit a post you tell me, "We're sorry, but we were unable to complete your request." Listen, you don't have to lie. I know you're not sorry. And I know you didn't really try to complete my request, so "unable" isn't all that accurate either.

I wish the error message said it like it is. Maybe something like, "Oh, looks like you can't edit your posts. Tough shit. There's no support staff. But you can try your luck at the rinky-dink Blogger Error Code Message Board. Sure it's staffed by morons who have no intention of answering your question. Sure the chances it will actually help you are remote, at best. But it makes us look like we're trying (even though we're not)."

By the way, I'm fairly certain there's no such thing as Blogger support staff, which more or less precludes the fact that you care.

Love,
Evan

P.S. Please stop taunting me with incomprehensible error messages; "bX-yipc2c" means nothing to me. And you don't know what it means either.

Bill O'Roid Rage

And the Emmy for "Best Asshole in a Newscast" goes to... you guessed it: Bill O'Reilly. I must say, this clip is pretty shocking. Even for him. And I don't just mean his full head of hair. I haven't seen a guy this mad since Jack Black punted Ron Burgundy's dog off a bridge.


Go fuck yourself, San Diego.

Beverly Hills Chihuahua

According to the upfront title card, the trailer for Beverly Hills Chihuahua was approved by the MPAA for "all audiences." There's clearly been a mistake. All audiences is pretty broad. It includes the young and old, the rich and poor, and every shape, size and color in between. And I assure you, this trailer isn't fit for any of the above.

Beverly Hills Chihuahua is Disney's latest forey into steaming bullshit that even children can't appreciate. The trailer begins with a sweeping, overhead shot of the ancient Aztec empire. Majestic Mesoamerica: the falls, the mountains, the stone step pyramids. Then, we hear the raspy drawl of a narrator: "My name is Bobby. I am descended from an ancient line of proud warriors. My ancestors went into battle alongside Aztec soldiers... " So we're clear, your great, great, great, great, great grandfather was named Montezuma, but your name is Bobby? Questionable, at best.

Shortly thereafter, we find out Bobby is a chihuahua. And then we learn he and his kin have infiltrated the highest rungs of society--the elite of Beverly Hills, apparently--before breaking into a creepy synchronized dance routine slash salsa/rap song. And that's about all I can tell you, because my eyes started watering, and I think I had a mild brain aneurysm.

The MPAA may approve of this trailer, but don't. You should probably sit down for this.



When I came to, thinking hoping it was all a bad dream, I decided to investigate. I assured myself it was just an elaborate hoax. But then I came across the poster for the film. And read the tagline: 50% warrior. 50% lover. 100% Chihuahua. That's when I 100% considered jumping out of my office's 8th floor window.


I guess the only question is, what will they think of next? Oh, that's right, Beverly Hills Chihuahua 2.

Guilty, And Guilty

From the Houston Chronicle:

Judge Sherman Ross tried to assemble a jury of peers for a woman accused of possession of a marijuana on trial Tuesday. Ross said he realized something was wrong when juror No. 2, Cornelia Mayo [the lady with the pothead sign above her head], didn't return from a 45-minute break. Before the judge could file a bench warrant for the missing juror, his bailiff got a call from police notifying him that Mayo was being booked on a charge of smoking marijuana outside the courthouse.

Granted, marijuana affects the memory--that's what Half Baked says, right? I can't remember. Anyhow, if you're serving on a jury, and the case is about marijuana possession, I'm guessing getting arrested for marijuana possession during the trial pretty much disqualifies you from jury duty. But it could be worse, Cornelia Mayo. It could be far worse.

Imagine you were a juror for a murder trial. Everything's going great. (Well, for you anyway. Obviously not so great for the dude who was murdered.) Anyway, it's been a tough case. And you head outside for a much needed lunch break. After a few bites of your meatball sub, you decide to decapitate a few pedestrians walking by the courthouse.

You would get so fired.

Happy Law Day!

What? Law Day?

That's right. Law Day. Fuck May Day anyway, right? Today, George W. Bush declared:

"In accordance with Public Law 87-20, as amended, I do hereby proclaim May 1, 2008, as Law Day, U.S.A. I call upon all the people of the United States to observe this day with appropriate ceremonies and activities. I also call upon Government officials to display the flag of the United States in support of this national observance."

Is it just me, or should a man who's committed as many crimes as Bush not be allowed to invent holidays about obeying laws? He asked Americans to "renew our commitment to the ideals on which this great Nation was established and to a robust system of ordered liberty."

In case you were wondering, "ordered liberty" is Orwellian for "you're free to do as you're told." Now I wasn't a big fan of laws before, so maybe I'm biased, but if you ask me, George W. Bush proclaiming Law Day is like a haggard old prostitute declaring STD Awareness Day. And I'd sooner trust a lady of the night than I would a Yale graduate you can't speak in public without smirking like a four year old.

[Source: The White House]