Conventional Stupidity

Useless Buzzwords

2011-08-18T19:33:00.003-04:00

At the age of four, I streamlined streamlining. Two years later, I developed a suite of best-in-class best practices with my best friend. By nine, I had all my ducks in a row.

I have survived three perfect storms.

But that's the 20,000 foot view. Let's drill down. You got the bandwidth?

I capture eyeballs. I push the envelope to the bleeding edge. I don't have "fulfillment issues".

I juice low-hanging fruit, drink the Kool-Aid, sell the sizzle and chuck the steak. What's on your plate?

I was born to intend puns. To make creative briefs cry. To be wild.

I once leveraged an entire bucket of secret sauce, hands-free.

I'd love to move forward; but I'm at my wits' end.

And I've surely exceeded the 140 character limit.

#UselessBuzzwords

CNN: You're doing it wrong

2010-03-01T21:01:00.001-05:00

And now... A stupid guy tries to explain "the theory of everything"

2010-02-23T04:41:00.002-05:00

Delicious Chalsa

2010-02-09T22:08:00.007-05:00

When I was a kid, peanut butter and jelly came in two jars. I know those Smucker's fuckers are trying to create a new category, based on the (probably valid) assumption that people are too lazy to open more than one jar; but I ain't buying it, figuratively or literally.

Especially not on Amazon.

If you're trying to make it in the condiment combination big leagues, you'd at least better come up with a kick ass name. For example...

... not "Smucker's Goober Peanut Butter". How is that the best they came up with?

"Let's see, 1/2 peanut butter, 1/2 jelly. How about Smucker's Goob--" NO! How about Jellynutter? Done.

It's funny how Smucker's tagline is: "with a name like Smucker's, it has to be good" when they can't even name their fucking products.

In case you're wondering: no, I don't care how tasty Smucker's Goober Peanut Butter is. I don't care for the same reason I don't care how bad butter tastes when you mix it with horseradish sauce...

If you jar it up and and call it "Butt Radish sauce", I'm buying it.

And the same goes for chalsa...

More specifically: free chalsa. Free, delicious chalsa, delivered right to your doorstep.

Now, I don't care if chalsa tastes like diapers. It sounds delectable and it costs zero dollars. Besides that, free internet chalsa is a testament to how far we've come as a society. Fifty years ago, who could've imagined the internet, let alone an internet in which one could procure free chalsa by mail?

Imagine what this means for the future? Imagine where we'll be in, say, 2012...?

Oh, hiya!

Oh, shit.

May I shave the baby?

2010-02-05T17:03:00.002-05:00

Good.

Flu Shots

2010-01-12T11:48:00.007-05:00

A (rather nosey) friend of mine recently asked via email (I have no idea whatsoever why this medium was chosen) whether or not I was vaccinated for H1N1 (I'm not sure if that's the swine or bird variety, but as you'll shorty see, I don't give a fuck.) Yes, I'm aware this is old news. But I literally got this email yesterday, sue me. She's the one who fucked up.

Here's my response:

No. I did not get vaccinated. I am not an infant. I am not over 70. Sure, I got the flu, which sucked, but I survived. Just like the last time I got the flu. In fact, I have never not survived the flu. Imagine that! H1N1 is no more deadly, or sickly, or sniffly, than any other flu. Healthy people get over it. Vaccinations are -- by and large -- a money making scheme created by companies with a vested interest in vaccine sales. If the drug dealers can drum up enough panic each "flu season", they can push more product. (The product, by the way, just gives you a little bit of the flu and leaves it up to your body to eradicate it.) Thanks, Tamiflu, my body does that anyway. For free.

So there's your prudent advice for the next global pandemic. Just contract the damn thing and deal with it. If you die, surely you would've anyway, seeing as how you're a frail, sallow excuse for a human being.

KSL

2009-11-18T19:25:00.005-05:00

For most, Klingon as a second language (KSL) is probably sufficiently nerdy. But not for this dude...

Meet d'Armond Speers, a man who spoke to his infant son ONLY in Klingon for the first three years of his existence. According to Mr. Speers, he's not even a huge Star Trek fan, he just wanted to see what would happen:

"I was interested in the question of whether my son, going through his first language acquisition process, would acquire it like any human language," Speers told the Minnesota Daily. "He was definitely starting to learn it."

Well, that's good. At 3, the poor kid was starting to learn Klingon. With any luck, Worf Jr. be fluent by kindergarten, just in time for schoolyard ass beatings.

Get Off My Lawn

2009-11-15T18:34:00.008-05:00

With Lou Dobbs off the air, someone was bound to pick up the border patrol slack:

Canada’s newly armed border guards have claimed their first victim: a hapless moose. The creature was felled by the duty sidearm of a border officer in late August, newly disclosed documents show. The incident — marking the first time a border-guard sidearm has been discharged on duty — occurred about 25 kilometres west of Creston, B.C., as an unidentified intelligence officer with the Canada Border Services Agency was driving on official business to Nelson, B.C.

Sounds aboot right.

Is Anyone Out There?

2009-11-11T17:43:00.002-05:00

My last post was in April. It's now November.

I'm going to ballpark that at several months based on my rudimentary understanding of the Roman calendar and my scant grasp of counting by ones. It's difficult to ballpark, however, whether or not anyone is still interested in reading this blog, were there in fact anything new to read.

Now seems like a good time to find out. If there's sufficient whooping and hollering in the comments section, I shall return. And by "sufficient whooping and hollering" of course, I mean, more than one person. I'm talking to you Jenni.

Swwwwiiinnnneeee!

2009-04-27T19:49:00.003-04:00

Celebrex Will Fucking Kill You

2009-04-16T02:09:00.005-04:00

Incendiary? Maybe a little. True? I'll let the ad speak for itself...

Did you happen to notice that the commercial, 1) was over two minutes long, 2) consisted almost solely of side effects, 3) used said side effects as pretty much the entire visual aesthetic, and 4) ended with the tagline: "Celebrex: Understand the risks, see the benefits."? Cause honestly, when you put that shit together, you've gotta wonder -- why bother making a commercial in the first place?! I think the daredevils with sore joints will come out of the woodwork on their own.

I also think 30 seconds is plenty of time to list all the ways Celebrex is going to end your life. Just list the side-effects in rapid succession like one of those "NOW! That's what I call 80's!" CD commercials; I don't need to be led around a creepy blue world of death. But the most troubling part has to be the tagline. What do they mean by "Understand the risks"? Do they mean, like, understand that they quite clearly outweigh the benefits? Because I get that. I get that internal bleeding is worse than sensitive knuckles.

Do yourself a favor. Take Advil or something. It (probably) won't kill you. And that that candy shell they coat the pills with is fucking delicious.

Fuck Seeds

2009-04-14T00:45:00.004-04:00

Why?

That's fucking why.

Don't ever question my irrational fears. This is serious. Remember as a kid, eating apples, oranges, grapefruit, and your parents would warn: "Don't swallow the seeds or a tree will grow inside you." And you were like, "Stomach trees? That's some fantastical bullshit, Mom. Tell me another one." Well, in case you still haven't clicked the link...

That shit is fucking true! From the article: "A five-centimeter branch is too large to be inhaled or swallowed, doctors say. They suggest that the patient might have inhaled a small bud, which then started to grow inside his body."

Fuck that. I will never scavenge the forest floor for tree buds and ingest them through my nostrils ever again.

In the year 2000...

2009-04-09T13:06:00.007-04:00

In honor of Conan's impending West Coast debut, here's my take on his famous bit "In the Year 2000..." (You'll just have to imagine La Bamba's awesome falsetto.)

In the year two thousand...

The world will come to view the capacity for canine intellect in a new light when internal memos surface proving “Beverly Hills Chihuahua” was written and directed by actual Chihuahuas.

In the year two thousaaaaaaaaaaand...

The Chicago Cubs will finally win the World Series, moments before giant locusts swarm the stadium and decimate the city.

In the year two thousand...

Captain Hook will confess that he is a pedophile. Which doesn’t really explain the hook, but sure explains why he lives on an island filled with unsupervised children.

In the year two thousaaaaaaaaaaand...

Bristol Palin will announce the birth of her third child "Turnip Bang-Bang Stick Check Palin" during an appearance on her mother’s daytime talk show, “The Asinine View”.

In the year two thousand...

In an unprecedented cross-promotional media blitz, The Department of Defense will collaborate with Burger King for the launch of the “Pentagonal Quintuple Stack Draft Burger”. The five-sided, five-patty burger will come with large fries, a Coke, and a government issued draft card.

In the year two thousaaaaaaaaaaand...

On a dare, Larry King will be asked to take off his suspenders. Not wanting to back down on live television, he agrees, immediately regretting the choice as his skin and bones collapse into a pile of dust.

In the year two thousand...

Scientists will determine that apples have no special ability to keep doctors away; malpractice suits, however, seem to do the trick.

In the year two thousaaaaaaaaaaand...

An entry from L. Ron Hubbard’s long-lost diary will reveal that he made Scientology up to spite Hollywood for passing on his screenplay, “Xenu: Intergalactic Overlord”.

In the year two thousand...

San Diego will be become the most populace city in the U.S. after the Tijuana Chamber of Commerce airs a controversial Super Bowl ad showing the softer side of Donkey Shows.

Really?!?

2009-02-08T20:25:00.003-05:00

It's All About The Benjamins Baby...

2009-02-06T22:28:00.004-05:00

Wait... ww-on do-ll-aar? WTF? Help! My money's missing two zeros!!

(click pic for hi-res)

Drugged Up At The Dentist

2009-02-03T01:02:00.004-05:00

One of my favorite lifetime experiences was getting my wisdom teeth removed as a high school senior. What? Yes. Really. It was the first -- and unfortunately last -- time I was on three drugs simultaneously. It was glorious.

I was given a Valium prior to the surgery, laughing gas to put me under, and Vicodin to ease the pain -- not that I felt anything whatsoever, aside from absolute ecstasy. The high was truly special. I was euphoric, yet thoroughly confused. I wasn't exactly sure what had happened to me, or why I had giant holes in the back of my mouth. And I fell up a flight of stairs, because walking one foot after another seemed like a cop out. Or maybe too complex.

Given my age at the time, I was able to deal with the whole thing in relative stride -- minus the upstairs tumble, at least. But I absolutely cannot imagine a 7-year-old having to deal with this. It must be like trying to grasp calculus, or Tyra Banks' jokes. I really don't know how I would've taken being that high as a first grader. Thankfully, this poor sap's father caught his experience on video...

No, young David, you won't feel like that forever... but someday, someday soon, you might wish you did.

The Misunderestimated President

2009-01-16T12:22:00.003-05:00

In a few short days President Bush will hoof it back to Crawford and revert to his true calling: semi-pro brush-clearer. For all intents and purposes, his would-be presidential legacy has been reduced to a steaming pile of elephant shit. All thanks to a floundering economy. Well, that and a few other minor hitches. Point is, Bush II will probably never be remembered as the trailblazing, war president; rather, he'll be known as the guy who didn't stop reading a children's book to a class of 1^st graders when a gigantic plane flew into the WTC, and stood by idly as the housing market crumbled into an equally large heap of rubble. What I've just described, however, is merely a version of reality.

According to "The Bush Boom", authored by Gary Busey (could it really be anyone else?), everything is just fine. Bush didn't fuck the economy up; he fixed it! We're boomin'. We're on the up-and-up. We're... not totally and completely fucked, we're just thinning the economic herd. Now, admittedly, the book hasn't been getting the best reviews on Amazon. The bad reviews outnumber the good by a margin of 2-to-1. Silly union workers. However, there have been several glowing 5-star reviews, like this one:

“Finally! A book that proves the existence of an alternate universe. Obviously, a rip in the space/time continuum between this universe and the other universe where Bush is presiding over a 'boom economy opened up and this book fell through. Can there be ANY other explanation?”

See! Bush didn't -- wait, what? Ironclad proof of an alternate universe? I guess the legacy is back on track; it's only a matter of time before he tries to take credit for this one.

Casting Fo Paw

2009-01-12T02:51:00.026-05:00

So I saw "The Little Mermaid" on Broadway. Turns out, some genius in casting decided that a young, slender black man with the voice of a post-op choir boy would make a good King Triton. It was sort of like watching Mike Tyson threaten to eat Lenox Lewis' children for two hours. It should be terrifying, but that squeaky voice is just so damn hilarious. You see the dichotomy. Now, I'm sure this fellow is a fine actor, but we're talking about King Triton, here. This is Poseidon's son. He has a magic trident and lives in a giant, phallic castle made of coral (no matter what Snopes tries to tell you.) Granted, the whole "underwater penis castle" sounds a little off at first blush, but it's definitely badass compared to my one bedroom in Queens -- besides, who are you, Jerry Falwell? On top of all that, King T is a freakishly large man. (Or, "merman", as Derek Zoolander would probably point out.) Just look at him next to Ariel; his pinky is the size of her friggin' neck!

But "Stage Triton" is different. He's dancing all over the place, singing falsetto like Mariah Carey in that video where she's on roller skates. (Come to think of it, Stage Triton is on roller skates.) I'm sure the aim is to give the illusion that he's underwater. But it's just embarrassing. I mean, the guy's supposed to bellow, not pleeay. (Yes, I just spelled that phonetically. Two reasons: first, I'm too lazy figure out how to make an accent over the "e"; and second, because I, unlike the hybrid-driving, cage-free-egg-eating borzwa, don't feel obligated to insert dumb, correctly spelled French words into every day conversation, just because it's sheek, or whatever. And if you think I should've figured out how to make an accent, instead of go on a mildly nationalist tirade, you can mange du merde et meurt.) In case you were wondering, there's no such thing as "too lazy to look up insults." And as you probably guessed already, there's absolutely no such thing as too lazy to insult the casting department of "The Little Mermaid" on Broadway. They had it coming.

Take It From An Eye Doctor

2008-12-31T02:03:00.006-05:00

I was going to go to Med School but then I realized: YouTube is full of insightful, dedicated educators, peddling knowledge free of charge.

I don't know if you watched that whole video, but if you decided to sit through it out perverse curiosity like I did, you're probably thinking, "Wait a second, if all the mass in the universe can be collapsed into the size of a bowling ball, and we're all made of energy and vibrating strings, and a cell doesn't really have any mass, and the definition of disease is 'we have transformed our energy state' then... HOW THE FUCK DID THIS WOMAN GET A FUCKING DOCTORATE IN MOTHERFUCKING OPTOMETRY!!!??"

Foot In Mouth?

2008-12-14T20:26:00.004-05:00

Say what you will about his politics, but he's got solid reflexes.

Oh, Venice...

2008-12-03T17:22:00.006-05:00

Through The Wire

2008-11-25T15:18:00.005-05:00

Page Six reports, for the first time... well... ever, probably, Ann Coulter has shut her mouth. Apparently, her jaw had to be wired shut after some sort of accident yesterday. Who knew blowing hot air was so dangerous?

In any event, she'll have to skip out on Thursday's all-American glut-fest, and spew her hateful bullshit via sign language, or something. Which is all well and good. Unless you hate the Jews, too, in which case, here are some classic Coulter moments to share with your friends and family this holiday season -- permitted that your friends and family are Neo-Nazis.

Redundant

2008-11-23T18:16:00.002-05:00

Isn't any book about Intelligent Design the "complete idiot's guide"?

You Know The Answering Machine Message You Just Left Is Absurd When...

2008-11-19T04:46:00.004-05:00

It ends up on the internet.

1) Don headphones.
2) Behold: the funniest thing you'll hear today.

So... did he get the job... or?

A Series Of Unfortunate Events

2008-11-14T16:47:00.008-05:00

Lemony Snicket ain’t got shit on me.

It all began earlier this afternoon, innocently enough, with a craving for Sabra hummus. Sabra hummus—in my opinion—is far and away the best on the market. If you haven’t tried it, you’ll have to take my word for it. If you have, you know exactly what I’m talking about. The trouble with Sabra is that it’s scantly available, even in Queens, where I live, and where it’s allegedly produced. Further, the best variety, Jalapeño, is only available in one supermarket—on 34th Ave. in Astoria, if you’re in the neighborhood.

Living only 7 blocks away, you’d think I wouldn’t have a problem taking the short 5-minute walk to purchase it. You’d be wrong. Instead, I routinely buy plain Sabra hummus around the corner, along with jalapeños, and make my own. Even though it’s more work. And more expensive.

I suppose, given my sloth, I deserve what happened next. Shortly after making the hummus, I noticed a slight, shall we say “twang” in my nose. Within a few minutes this twang became what I can only describe as, Satan and his minions setting fire to my nostrils.

Before too long, the pain was unbearable. I quickly googled my condition: “jalapeño in nose”, and hit “I’m feeling lucky”, even though I wasn’t. Not surprisingly, I arrived at the web’s premiere destination for horrible advice, bad puns, and wise-ass 14-year-olds: Yahoo! Answers. It’s usually the first result on Google when a question is posed that would never affect a respected, moderately-functioning member of society.

Here’s the question, word for word:
“OMG, HELP, I am on fire. Jalepeno juice? I cleaned a bunch of jalepenos, yes, I wore gloves. But some how it still got on my nose. My god, it burns like hell. Does anyone know how to stop the burning? OUCH I look like a drunk with a RED nose.” -Cheryl

Pretty spot on. I felt “Cheryl’s” pain, and sensed the amalgam of utter dread and anguish in her hurried words. The answers to the question were varied. Most were helpful. You can see for yourself, here. I began running down the list—completely at the whim of the Yahoo! Answers community—willing to try anything. This is never a good place to find yourself.

I ignored the guy who said to “put tomatoes or catsup” up there. First off, anyone who spells ketchup like that can’t be trusted. I also skipped over milk, for the time being, opting for vinegar. Maybe using balsamic threw it off, but it sure as hell didn’t work. I tried lemon juice next, soaking a Q-tip with lemon juice and swabbing the inside of my nostrils like a doctor testing for strep. No dice. Nose still on fire, I read the next piece of advice:

“I hear that sticking bread up your nose will stop the burning, but it may interfer with breathing...whatever
AND please do not pour milk down your nose! This is a case where the cure is worse than the disease! :-)”

“May interfer with breathing”? I figured doing the opposite of what this guy said was probably my best bet. So I started sucking milk with a straw, strait through my right nostril. If there’s such a thing as gargling milk with one’s nose, I think I achieved it today. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the desired effect. The nose-fire persisted.

Running out of options, I tried the last advice: soak a paper towel with water and sugar. “Fuck it,” I thought, as I jabbed a wad of saccharine tissue into my nostril. I hate to leave you hanging, but that’s pretty much where I stand as I write this. I figured I’d jot this whole mess down before I forgot the agony. The pain seems to be subsiding, as the sugar’s mostly dry, and seems to be forming a strange, inflexible shell around my nose and mouth. I’ll let you know how it goes. I'm not terribly hopeful.

F The FCC

2008-11-11T03:55:00.006-05:00

If Joe Scarborough's wife actually kills him over this, I promise I'll remove the post... maybe.

Whoops! So much for the seven second delay. I love how he had absolutely no idea what happened. The second he goes off camera he starts whispering, "I said 'F' right... Did they bleep it?"

Help A Virgin

2008-11-10T01:30:00.006-05:00

As up to ten of you may recall, when Greenpeace gave the public naming rights to one of its precious whales, this very website, and many others like it, tipped the scales to ensure it didn't get a lame name like Kaimana. And thanks to you, somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, Mr. Splashy Pants is tooting his blowhole, surely the envy of lesser, lamer whales, with much more meaningful tribal names.

Now, I've come to you again. This time, not to name a whale, but to get some poor bastard laid. Naturally, a guy like me, with a heavily-trafficked weblog about nothing, doesn't have this sort of problem. But not all of us are so lucky. Some of us need to make "real" websites and attract 5 million unique visitors before our friends will screw us.

According to his site: "I made a bet with a friend of mine (my only friend who knows about this situation, and who is, by the way, very pretty): If I get 5 million unique hits for this website until New Year's eve, she's going to "help". It's exactly what you're thinking! If I can't do it, I'll have to do anything she wants for a whole month."

If you're asking "where's the site" or, "how can I help", congratulations, you have an irrational emotional need to help virgins. And you're very kind. But I assure you, anyone who understands both the psychology behind the "help a virgin" traffic-hording scheme, and the complex programing required to pull it off, will never get laid anyway. So, instead, check out the many, many "help a virgin" ripoffs, widely available by Googleing it.

Oh, fuck it. I cave. I know this is like throwing bread to pigeons, but help this fake virgin, if you must. Or this other one. Or this allegedly dying one. I'm sure they could use the ~~ass~~ traffic.

An Open Letter To Joe The Plumber

2008-11-05T02:10:00.011-05:00

Dear Joe Wurzelwhateverthefuck,

As of tonight, Joe, your services are no longer required. Don't get me wrong, feel free to continue snaking all sorts of rank shit out of Ohio's plugged-up toilets and septic systems. The state's flatulent masses need you. Just don't start your own business, or write a book, or run for Congress, or record a crappy country western album, or sign on to anchor a show on Fox News alongside that creepy Sean Hannity guy, 'cause there's a new Redistributionist in Chief coming to Washington... and you, my friend, are shit outta luck.

Except for the 'shit' part, obviously. You'll never be shit outta shit. As a plumber, there will always be plenty of feces. But I don't need to tell you that.

But don't be sore, Joey P. Sure, it sucks to be you. And also, too, Palin. And McCain. And all those red states that Barack Obama doesn't think exist. But on the bright side, for the rest of us -- the overwhelming electoral majority of us -- it feels pretty damn good to say at last...

Barack Obama is President-Elect of the United States of America.

Good Christian Values

2008-10-29T01:32:00.019-04:00

Sarah Palin talks a lot about two things—Real America and Christian values. Unfortunately, she has no conception of either. She acts as if Jesus would have loved America; like he would have come to fucking Wasilla on vacation.

Let me tell you something. If Jesus ever came to America, first he’d wonder why half of the people who say they love him so much watch Nascar all day, and have absolutely no clue what he actually taught. Then, he’d be like, “Fuck this place, I’m going to Canada.”

Sarah Palin and Jesus have about as much in common as that bear from the Snuggles fabric softener commercials has with Jeffery Dahmer. And I'll prove it...

In Matthew 5:40, Jesus said:
“And if any man will try to take away your coat, let him have your cloak also.”

In a Neiman Marcus department store, Sarah Palin said:
“Oooh, gosh, a Louis Vuitton coat? That’s nifty. Let me have the matching bag.”

In Luke 14:13, Jesus said:
“When you give a feast, invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you.”

In a rally, Palin said:
“When you give tax cuts, also, too, make sure to give ‘em to Joe the Plumber, Bobby the Investment Banker, and Abdullah the Saudi Oil Baron, and you will be blessed, because they’ll fund your run for president in 2012!”

In Matthew 5:44, Jesus said:
“I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despite-fully use you, and persecute you.”

In a TV interview, Sarah Palin said:
“I say unto that Hussein Obama guy, stop pallin’ around with terrorists all the time. Pretty lame. Plus, also, I don't want my kids—Trig, Track, Piper, Fork, Crispy and Zamboni—growing up with that one as their president."

As a side note, remember in the Bible where Jesus was all like, "love thy neighbor" and "do unto others" and stuff? I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure he didn't mean "fly around in a helicopter and shoot defenseless wolves with a high-powered rifle."

8 Years Later

2008-10-25T01:03:00.001-04:00

We Didn't Start The Fire

2008-10-24T15:44:00.005-04:00

But I think I know who did...

Five bucks says she lives in California.

About Face

2008-10-22T11:39:00.006-04:00

If you're going to say to your wife, "At least I don't plaster on the makeup like a trollop, you cunt." You probably shouldn't plaster on the makeup like a trollop. You hypocrite.

In September alone, McCain paid Tifanie White, TV makeup artist for "So You Think You Can Dance" and "American Idol," a total of $8,672.50 to plaster makeup on his droopy, old kisser. And thank God. I can only image what he looks like without makeup...

Woof.

Iranistan

2008-10-20T10:48:00.003-04:00

If you haven't yet seen this, enjoy: palinaspresident.us. Just don't touch the red phone!

Guttural Reaction

2008-10-16T12:21:00.012-04:00

When asked to detail his economic policy in last night's final debate, McCain said bluntly, "My friends, I know how to fix the economy, I have thirteen cars. I have eight homes. I swallow golden pills that make my... you know what? Just check this out." Then, McCain began to dry heave, muttering something about how it's harder to get the golden egg to come up, than down. As Obama turned to leave, Bob Schieffer pointed out, "You're not a goose, John," to which McCain quickly spouted, "You're damn right I'm not Goose, I'm Maverick."

Ten F@$king Heads!!

2008-10-07T14:17:00.003-04:00

You know the economy is about to explode when it takes ten people to explain the problem.

Palintology

2008-10-01T17:09:00.006-04:00

Matt Damon is scared of Sarah Palin. And not because she reminds him of a pit bull. No, he's afraid that if John McCain wins the election, he'll die of old age as he's being sworn in, and the U.S. will be left in the hands of a woman who thinks dinosaurs roamed the earth alongside humans.

But just because Sarah Palin doesn't understand things like fossils, or the obvious genetic differences between dogs and hockey moms, does not mean she should be feared. In fact, to her credit, in the historical town of Bedrock, cavemen rode brontosauruses like horses. They had saddles and everything. So the jury's still out on that one... even though Sarah Palin probably doesn't know what a jury is, and definitely can't name a single Supreme Court case aside from Roe v. Wade.

You know what though? I can let all that slide. My real issue, honestly, is that Sarah Palin went to college for journalism, and claims to have perused "a vast variety of sources," but somehow, cannot name a single magazine or newspaper that she has ever read.

See it, and weep:

There you have it. Would-be journalist/could-be vice president, Sarah Palin, can't name a single newspaper. Luckily, I can name six newspapers, and I have a hunch which one she's been reading this whole time. It's called The Onion. Apparently, "America's Finest News Source."

All I have to say is, good luck with the debate. And by "the debate", of course, I mean good luck pronouncing "Mahmoud Ahmadinejad" on live television. It's way harder than "The Onion."

Down The Tubes

2008-09-27T14:49:00.014-04:00

I don't know about you, but I've decided to address the looming economic crisis by going liquid -- AIG style. I'm selling all my shit on Craig's List. It's not so much out of concern, or even any real grasp of the economic crisis; it's that I'm moving, it's too late to rent a UHaul, and none of this crap is going to fit into a taxi.

Now a solid two days into the experiment, I've drawn one conclusion: you can sell anything on Craig's List. And if you can't sell it, someone's got something to offer you in trade. It's 2008 and we're back on the barter system. One guy offered me a handful of wampum -- WAMPUM!! -- for my classical guitar. Believe me, you can sell anything. To prove it, I tried to sell the toilet from my rented apartment in the "general sales" section.

The thing is... it worked. In all honesty, within minutes of posting my landlord's old, literally shit-ridden toilet on Craig's List (as a fish tank, no less) this is the actual response I got:

(click to enlarge)
And that's when I realized... there is no economic crisis. If we get low on cash, we can always just sell everything we own on Craig's List. It doesn't sound all that presidential, but let's be real: Craig's List could be the cure-all for our global economic woes.

Take it from Bedi (or John McCain, for that matter) there really is no limit to American ingenuity. If it looks like a toilet, smells like a toilet, and flushes like a toilet --but you want a fish tank -- then it's a fucking fish tank. Especially if the seller puts "fish tank" in the title of the ad.

This ain't ebay, bitches.

Slacker Update

2008-08-22T13:39:00.002-04:00

If you're one of the 12 people who have been fervently checking this site for updates, rest assured, your efforts do not go unnoticed.

If you're the guy who found this site by searching for "fetal position alzheimer and sucking thumb video" please seek help. You won't find it here.

So, what of the absence? I've been hard at work writing a TV spec script for NBC's "The Office". No, you won't see it air. But you can read it -- and I'd be happy to send it along. If you're interested, just shoot me an email, or leave a comment with your email address.

Stupidity will abound in the near (ish) future. I promise.

McBoycott

2008-07-22T12:27:00.003-04:00

An anti-McDonald's website (yes, another one) has sprouted up in response to this ad, which touts the company's commitment to the gay and lesbian community. According to the proprietors of BoycottMcDonalds.com, they are not against McDonald's irresponsible and highly questionable definition of food, which they serve freely at thousands of locations worldwide, oh no, they love the food. They just hate McDonald's politics. "It is about McDonald's, as a corporation, refusing to remain neutral in the culture wars. McDonald's has chosen not to remain neutral but to give the full weight of their corporation to promoting the homosexual agenda, including homosexual marriage."

Seriously. Who supports Stonewall riot victims anyway? That is so not what Jesus would do. He might stone Stonewall victims, but never support them. Shame on you, Mickey D's. Shame on your tolerance and compassion.

The best part of the site -- without a doubt -- is the comments section, a finely honed hodgepodge of stupidity, so utterly devoid of rational thought that I would be remiss not to share some of the gems. These comments are 100% real and unedited, written by real people... with really low IQs:

"because McDonald's had taken a stand to support the activist gay agenda that is destroying the core of family values in the U.S. we will take a stand to support McDonald's competitors such as In-n-Out and Chick fil-A."

“I have 5 days a week my house filled with children of various age and many days it’s McDonalds for dinner due to time restraints. NOT ANY MORE. I will not spend my hard earnd money to support a group of people that is trappling my beliefs and leading our futur generations in to a lifestyle that will kill them. I will not come and spend a dime there nor will I let any of my friends or aquaintends do so. what ever I can to stop this support of nglcc I will do. Children are too precious to be perverted like that. one of many who still have a sense of morality”

“YOU DID NOT BILD YOUR COMPANY ON HOMOSEXUAL PEOPLE! IT WAS BUILD ON FAMILY VALUES! MAN,WIFE.CHILDREN!MOSTLTY CHILDREN! THEY DON’T COME FROM HOMO PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Oh, and the list goes on... And on and on. Practically forever. This is totally the last time I'm taking political cues from a clown and a guy named "Hamburglar."

Hungry Hungry Hippos

2008-07-10T10:19:00.004-04:00

You know you're a dwarf when... A yawning hippo accidentally swallows you.

Master Of Your Domain

2008-07-09T13:59:00.003-04:00

You may have heard the news: "Web regulators recently voted to allow the creation of thousands of new domain names, from .paris to .Pepsi, in one of the biggest shake-ups in Internet history."

In other words, the flood gates are wide open.

I, for one, don't see the point. Plenty of companies have already crossed the line, even in the age of traditional domain name suffixes. Why encourage them? Take penisland.net, the web's premiere destination for custom pens. Or therapistfinder.com, which sounds like Facebook for rapists, but is really a directory of licensed psychologists.

The point is... we don't need companies, like Coca-Cola, for instance, buying up customized domain names. Like www.drink.coke. It's too hard to remember. And more importantly, too easy to fuck up. Take RIM (Research in Motion), a mobile communications company, who, in an effort to better attract prospective employees, uses the customized domain: www.rim.jobs!

Now I don't mean to say opening up domain names is a shitty policy -- although, in the case of "rim.jobs" it most certainly is -- I'm just saying, it could get dicey. It will get dicey. And before you know it, the Internet will be overrun with lewd and lascivious smut.

SMUT. On the INTERNET. Imagine that!?

Basement Sex

2008-06-23T16:36:00.003-04:00

You know who should really be teaching minors about sex? JCPenney.

Not a great commercial. But it would have made an excellent safe sex PSA. I imagined it saying something like, "Even if you don't get caught, you might get burned." And then some really depressing shit about how syphilis feels like a tiny dragon is living in your urethra. Instead, it resolved on a heartwarming tagline: "Every Day Matters." Which doesn't really have anything to do with 14-year-olds humping (but it's a whole lot safer than their old line "It's All Inside.") I'm counting triple entendre... at least.

My point is, the whole message is dubious. I don't remember JCPenney's clothes being particularly easy to get in and out of. Except for maybe those JNCO jeans, but that's 'cause you could fit your entire body in one of the pant legs. And the only similarity between having sex in your parent's basement and shopping at JCPenney -- so far as I can see -- is the fact that if you fuck on a musty couch for long enough, you're bound to get some pennies lodged between your ass cheeks. And then, theoretically, you could use your ass pennies to shop at JCPenney. Which is kind of nice, if you think about it. It sort of brings the whole campaign full circle.

Happy Heat Awareness Day!

2008-06-18T11:27:00.005-04:00

According to the National Weather Service (which is ~~never ever~~ almost always wrong), today is Heat Awareness Day in New York City. I just checked the weather report; it's 71 degrees. That's warm, at best. Doesn't seem to warrant a holiday. I think 80 justifies heat awareness. Not 71. But I've decided to observe, despite the utter lack of heat to be aware of. Why? I figure if this whole global warming thing ever comes to fruition, Heat Awareness Day is going to be HUGE. Like Christmas. Or Law Day. And I want to look back and say I was there. I was part of the first Heat Awareness Day. It was legendary: 71 degrees, overcast, with a 40% chance of precipitation. But I'll make it sound way more bad ass. "I survived the heat wave," I'll explain to my grandchildren, as they look to me in wide-eyed wonderment. "It was so hot the clouds started to cry."

A Fist Terrorist Jab

2008-06-10T15:49:00.005-04:00

The night Obama secured the Democratic nomination he gave his wife a celebratory fist pound. I assumed the gesture meant something along the lines of "we did it, honey." But I'm no expert. You know who is an expert? Good old Whitey McCluless at Fox News. She declared it a "terrorist fist jab", and all I can say is: Thank God someone's paying attention.

With Obama making all sorts of terrorist fist jabbing motions on live television, it sort of makes you long for the days of Al Gore sucking Tipper's face in front of everybody. Okay, maybe not "long for", but you get where I'm going. A little tongue never hurt anyone.

On a side note, Fox News has yet to mention President Bush's "terrorist chest bump" with the naval cadet at commencement. Maybe tomorrow.

Dehydrated Babies

2008-06-05T14:01:00.003-04:00

When the Republican nominee for president says "dehydrated babies", you listen. Get ready for the most unusual six seconds of your life:

Will someone make this man leader of the free world already? I mean come on! The other candidate (Osama, is it?) hasn't even addressed this shit! Forget socialized medicine. The war. The impending recession. Get these dehydrated babies some goddamn bottled hot water. And it better not be lukewarm, or like, room temperature. Everyone knows thirsty babies only drink scalding water. Out of bottles.

Seriously, though. Alzheimer's is a serious issue. I shouldn't be making fun of a crazy old man. He needs support. And lots of pills. And probably some hot bottled water to wash them down.

Chest Bumpin'

2008-05-29T11:13:00.002-04:00

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

2008-05-28T12:04:00.005-04:00

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

2008-05-27T17:13:00.007-04:00

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

2008-05-22T10:33:00.003-04:00

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!

2008-05-20T11:56:00.007-04:00

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

2008-05-19T16:01:00.004-04:00

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

2008-05-12T14:38:00.008-04:00

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

2008-05-09T10:22:00.006-04:00

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

2008-05-07T14:06:00.013-04:00

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!

2008-05-01T12:11:00.003-04:00

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]

Ku Klux Target

2008-04-27T21:32:00.003-04:00

As a copywriter, I would have gone with "Kid's Computer Desk (Black)".

The only lingering question: is the computer desk for white people white? Or does the computer desk for white kids actually have a computer? Either way, I'm offended. Amused is probably more accurate, actually, but let's go with offended. I'm offended.

Hooray Science!

2008-04-24T17:43:00.007-04:00

Back in the day people used to invent stuff. They used to ponder life. Remember Socrates? "The unexamined life is not worth living." Well, we've come a long way; unfortunately, we've gone a long way in the wrong direction. So now, instead of studying the earth and cosmos, cataloging species and discovering the miracles of science, we drop minty candies in sugar water. It's not an experiment, per se, since we know exactly what's going to happen...

But for fuck's sake, when you put candy in soda it rains liquid sugar!! It's like miracle. A gooey-coke-geysery-miracle. Yay! Let's videotape it and take lots of pictures. And we'll all wear blue ponchos, and put it on YouTube. Maybe we'll make the top ten, and oh, sweet Jesus, I'm all sticky now... and wet... and... man, what the hell are we doing with our lives?

West Coast Exploits

2008-04-23T15:08:00.004-04:00

I've been slacking; I know. But I have an excuse. I've been across the country, gallivanting in sunny (except when I was there, apparently) California. Here's the recap:

First stop: San Fransisco. My company threw a party at the W Hotel for one of our clients. After the party, the manager of the hotel told us, (and this is a direct quote), "We have never had so many broken glasses. Ever."

The following morning, half-drunk and bleary-eyed, I took the olde-tyme cable car. Yes, that cable car--the one they turn around manually by leaning on it until it begins to lurch clockwise. During the ride, I did not see the house from the show "Full House." Yes, I looked.

As I rode the "subway" out to the burbs, it struck me how unimaginably windy the tracks were. They weave in and out of people's back yards like the Colorado River. It's called eminent domain; knock some goddamn houses down.

My friend and I plop down at a bar. We order sangria. More specifically, we order two GIGANTIC pitchers of sangria. Despite our aptitude for guzzling alcohol, the old female bartender swiftly emasculates us by reminding us we're drinking wine.

I hop a plane to LA. For some inexplicable reason it is colder than San Fransisco. (Okay, not inexplicable; I'm sure it has something to do with cumulus clouds, or moisture, or El Nino, but to me, LA is south, it should be warmer.)

I eat Chinese food at a place called "Mao's" in Hollywood. No one seems to mind that the restaurant is littered with pictures of the Chairman in crazy Hitler power poses. Or that the waitress is a hipster with red hair and a lip ring. Or--and this is the worst part--that the duck sauce is brown and tastes like Pete Sampras' feet.

At a gay bar in West Hollywood some guy introduces himself to me three times. Each time he uses the exact same opening line. The third time, after I tell him he's already done this twice, he looks embarrassed, and tells me, "I'm really bad at this," to which I reply, "I'm straight." That's when he stopped introducing himself.

At some point in the night, my friend is roofied. We discovered this when he decides to urinate in a can and take a nap in the bathroom in the fetal position. Not that I'm suggesting he should have slept in a can and urinated in the bathroom. But still, something was amiss.

Back to NY on Virgin America. I'm sure you've heard the stories: mood lighting, lounge music, sassy flight attendants, leather chairs. You may not have heard about the in-flight chat feature, though, which is easily the best part. I tried to stike up a conversation with an old lady in first class who looked like Cruella de Vil; she ignored me.

Now I'm back. And it's like 80 degrees in NYC. Go figure.

Crazy Elevator Lady

2008-04-14T10:52:00.009-04:00

Crazy people. Whether it's their questionable choice of attire or their absolute disregard for social mores, they never fail to brighten my day.

When I first got to NYC, about a year and a half ago, these people stood out like bat-shit-crazy sore thumbs. On my way to work one day I saw a guy pretending to give a live TV weather report right in the middle of a busy intersection (only without cameras, or a microphone, or a fucking clue what he was talking about.) He just kept saying words like "precipitation" and "easterly winds" completely out of context. Another time, in Duane Read, I noticed a lady rummaging through the candy isle mumbling incoherently. Finally, she settled on some sort of industrial-sized bag of Twizzlers, before turning to me and explaining how the FBI was after her, and that she needed Twizzlers for her escape. Then, at Penn Station one day, while waiting in line for tickets, I noticed a man walk calmly up to a trash can, reach in for a Big Gulp, and suck the last bit of liquid through the straw like a Shop Vac, before tossing it aside nonchalantly.

And then, there's my favorite. The craziest of the crazies... the elevator lady. Yes, that's the actual elevator lady. Someone else, obviously captivated by this woman, uploaded a video of her to YouTube. There's 8 million people living in NYC, but strangely it makes perfect sense that I found her in about 30 seconds by typing "crazy NYC subway lady" into Google. I've never seen anything like the elevator lady.

She was furious, sneering across the subway platform at a normal-looking couple standing in front of an elevator. "Fuckin' elevator. Fuckin' idiots. Think they're taking the elevator. Those idiots," she spat.

This went on for some time. I doubted the elevator lady knew this couple, but she seemed thoroughly invested in their lives. I was intrigued so I kept listening. She chuckled to herself and threw up her hands. "Hey morons!" she shouted, through cupped hands. A few people turned at which point she went back to a quiet mumble. The couple across the platform was completely oblivious.

I was convinced the show was over. But then, out of nowhere, like she heard some sort of crazy-person-dog-whistle that only she could hear, she bolted off, straight toward the couple. I wondered if I should warn them. I decided against it. What would I say? "A crazy lady might push you in front of a subway"? I didn't want to be liable for whatever was about to happen. Instead, I just stood there and watched:

She march right up to them and immediately got to work, trying her best to jar the pair of unsuspecting strangers from their quiet, sane existence. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but her hands were doing most of the talking, anyway. As she spoke, the man looked confused. But as she went on, pointing and blabbering, a look of concern overcame him. Then, the crazy lady began to make emphatic hand gestures at the elevator. Stomping her feet.

Suddenly a train pulled into the station. The lady took off as if nothing had happened. The couple looked relieved, and unbelievably perplexed. I decided to approach them.

"What did she say to you guys?" I asked.

"She said something about the elevator being out-of-order. But way crazier than the way I just said it," the man's wife replied.

I nodded. I looked at the elevator; it looked fine. Moments later, as my train chugged into the station on the opposite track, the elevator door opened and a group of passengers filed out.

"Fuckin' idiots," I thought to myself, smiling, as I boarded my train home.

Break It Up

2008-04-07T14:58:00.002-04:00

I guarantee this video will shock you (unless you've seen two chickens break up a rabbit fight).

Lucky for you, I speak rabbit. And chicken. Here's what went down.

White Rabbit: Fuck you, bunnayyyyyy!
Spotted Rabbit: Fuck me? Fuck you!
White Rabbit: Oh, it's on bro.
Chicken #1: BYAAAAAH!!!
White Rabbit: Ow! That's my ear, asshole.
Chicken #1: You just got saaaaaaaaaacckked.
Chicken #2: Just keepin' the peace, guys.
Spotted Rabbit: We were just having som---
Chicken #2: KEEPING THE PEACE!!
Spotted Rabbit: Man, someone's been eating growth hormones.
White Rabbit: Seriously...
Chicken #1: Say it again. I dare you.
Chicken #2: That's what I thought.

Lonely, I'm Mr. Lonely

2008-04-03T16:11:00.010-04:00

At a recent NATO summit meeting, President Bush received a warm greeting from the world's leaders.

And by "warm greeting" I mean he stood there alone, daydreaming about crinkle-cut french fries, while everyone else was having the best time ever.

[Via: Some German site that I can't read]

Mars Bitches

2008-04-02T16:46:00.007-04:00

April Fools joke? A nod to Dave Chappelle? I'm guessing the former, but either way, somewhere, somehow, Carl Sagan's rotting remains just got a boner.

It appears Virgin and Google have teamed up to send 20 earthlings to Mars, beginning in 2014. And not just any earthlings... YouTube-earthlings. But don't take my word for it; take it from the big, British virgin himself, Richard Bronson:

As you can see, this will not be a joy ride. The goal is colonization. Permanently. On Mars. They've even picked the future "Plymouth Rock" of the Red Planet: the Lunae planum area of the north side of Kasei Valles (wherever the fuck that is.)

Overall, I think it's a great idea. With one glaring exception. Is it just me, or is YouTube the worst possible place to advertise this? Shouldn't they be flyering Harvard, or MIT, or you know, like NASA, or some shit? What caliber of space traveler do they think they're going to attract from YouTube? The most popular video this month (with over 4 million views) is the trailer for Ben Stiller's new movie, "Tropic Thunder". It's not like these idiots are watching lectures about particle physics. Those videos have like 12 views. Collectively.

I don't know about you, but I don't want the "Leave Britney Alone" kid to be the first human on Mars. Come to think of it, I don't want anyone to go to Mars based on a 30-second YouTube video. Imagine some aliens land on Mars and see our YouTube colony! We'd be the laughing-stock of the entire galaxy. Maybe even the Universe.

I'm sure a lot of "planning" went into this and whatnot, but maybe they should call the whole thing off. I'm not comfortable with KevJumba in space.

The Glass Is Half Full

2008-04-01T15:35:00.007-04:00

Introducing: the machine that can turn a "50 gallon drum of urine" into potable water.

Oh, and it could eradicate 50% of human disease, too. That's pretty good, I guess... as long as you're an optimist.

[Via: The Colbert Report]

5 Dolla Foot Loooong

2008-03-30T16:11:00.004-04:00

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

2008-03-27T14:10:00.003-04:00

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

2008-03-25T15:34:00.005-04:00

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

2008-03-19T17:41:00.005-04:00

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

2008-03-14T17:25:00.005-04:00

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

2008-03-11T14:59:00.009-04:00

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

2008-03-10T13:09:00.006-04:00

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!

2008-03-05T10:46:00.008-05:00

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...

2008-03-04T10:55:00.007-05:00

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

[Source: Some guy's Flickr.]

An Open Letter To February 29th

2008-02-29T13:16:00.010-05:00

Well, well, well... Look who finally decided to show up on the calendar. Fucking deadbeat.

Of all the things that happen once every four years, you, February 29th, are undoubtedly the worst. The earth has one job: Revolve around the sun. But since it can't do that properly, we have to add a day onto the calendar once every four years. You are that day. You realize this, don't you? You're a mistake, February 29th! A technicality.

My real issue is not with you, though; it's with your people. You know who I'm talking about. The leap babies. Every time I meet one of your snooty, unfunny offspring, I'm reminded why I hate you. Did you know that it requires an unhealthy amount of self-restraint on the part of humanity to smile and nod when one of your bastard children exclaims his age, as if it's really funny when he says he's turning 6 when he's actually 24? Well it does. When your people were 8, and they told people it was their second birthday during show and tell, it was cute. When they're 40, and they joke about being underage to the bartender, it's sad and pathetic. And you're responsible.

You're also fucking up the month song. Bigtime. It starts off like a fucking Dickens novel, but then you come along and ruin it.

Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November;
All the rest have thirty-one
Except February alone:
Which has twenty-eight 3 years in four,
Till Leap Year gives it just one more.

Are you kidding me? You need half the song to explain that? When I have kids, and I teach them the month song, it's gonna be different. None of this Leap Year favoritism. It will end, "except for February, because the Gregorian calendar is a piece of worthless shit."

That's about it, I guess. See you in four years.

Warm regards,
Evan

P.S. I don't recall anyone asking for an extra day in February. Ever. It's fucking cold, asshole. If you want your own special day, the least you could do is come back in the spring.

Barack Oblowjobs

2008-02-27T15:36:00.014-05:00

Meet Larry Sinclair: toothless crack head. He claims to have met Obama in an upscale Chicago lounge in 1999. After they danced the night away, or something, he invited Barry back to his limo, where he performed oral sex, and gave Obama some crack. Let his 1 minute and 42 seconds of fame commence right... NOW.

Since most people don't believe toothless, unshaven hobos who smoke crack, Larry--perhaps aware of this--offered to take a polygraph test, even though no one asked. For some reason, whitehouse.com (not to be confused with whitehouse.gov, though that's exactly what they want you to do) took him up on the offer. Larry was asked two questions. First, "Did you perform oral sex on Obama in 1999?" to which he answered "Yes", and second, "Are you lying when you say you performed oral sex on Obama in 1999?" to which he answered "No". So what were the results?
(Click image to enlarge)
There you have it. A score of -3 or below indicates deception, and he scored -15. That's like taking the SATs and getting a zero (which is only possible if you manage to answer every single question wrong AND fail to spell your name correctly.) If these results surprise you, and you genuinely believe Barack Obama may have put his wang is this dudes mouth, then I know this Nigerian guy who'd love to deposit millions of dollars into your bank account. He keeps emailing me about it.

More Crappy

2008-02-26T14:06:00.008-05:00

Pepsi has an illustrious history of nonsensical taglines. After the whole "You've got the right one baby, uh huh, uh huh" thing with Ray Charles didn't pan out, they introduced another slogan: Nothing Else Is A Pepsi. Then, a few years later, the tagline became: It's the Cola. So there you have it. Pepsi: Nothing else is itself, and, it's Cola, in case you forgot.

But this time, Pepsi's gone too far. If you thought "It's the Cola" was vague and stupid, you'll really enjoy their new slogan: More Happy. It's bad enough that Pepsi tastes like crap. But if I have to hear "More Happy" for the next several years I'm going More Kill Myself.

In a pathetic effort to lend credibility to the campaign, Russell Weiner, VP of cola marketing at PepsiCo, notes, "One of the nice things about the word ‘happy’ is it’s really multidimensional."

Multidimensional? Riiiiiight...

'Cause the word "happy" means so many things to so many people. You know, like joy, and stuff.

Oh, I got it! Joy! The Joy Of Pepsi... no... the Joy Of Cola! What? That was already a tagline? Fuck it, just go with "Yep" before someone else takes it.

Fear-Mongering For Dummies

2008-02-25T14:14:00.008-05:00

As if being named Barack Hussein Obama weren't bad enough, the Drudge Report picked up this photo of the Democrat frontrunner, dressed as a ~~suicide bomber~~ Somali Elder. The picture, circulated by the Clinton campaign, shows Obama during a visit to Wajir, Kenya (not, contrary to a Fox News report, in a dank Afghani cave.) Obama's campaign manager, David Plouffe, slammed the Clinton campaign for what he called “shameful offensive fear-mongering.”

Maybe I missed something, but since when is shameful offensive fear-mongering frowned upon? And another thing, what kind of name is David Plouffe? Plouffe sounds like one of those stupid words copywriters make up to describe how soft diapers are. Campaign managers need to be tough; they need to fight back. When your opponent releases a photo of you wearing a turban you don't accuse them of fear mongering, you release a photo of them wearing a turban! Jesus. This isn't rocket science.

Obama, you can thank me later. Preferably with a low-stress cabinet position (you know, like Director of FEMA or something.) Oh, and for the general election, here's some fodder:

If McCain nuzzling into Bush's chest like love-starved puppy isn't enough to get a Democrat in office, then I'm afraid nothing is.

The Top Ten Weirdest Online Dating Websites (And What Their Slogans Should've Been)

2008-02-19T15:13:00.005-05:00

If you're married, but have an exigent urge to cheat on your spouse, look no further than the Ashley Madison Agency. It's just like match.com... only for home wreckers. With 1.7 million members, I think it's safe to say, the oft touted "sanctity of marriage" has been officially demoted on the totem-pole of righteousness. For those of you keeping track, it can now be found just below the "sanctity of calling shotgun" to claim the front seat in the car. But that's neither here nor there. The real story is Ashley Madison's slogan: When Monogamy Becomes Monotony.

It's perfect. But it got me to thinking: what if all online dating sites (even the really creepy, niche ones; ok, who am I kidding, just the really creepy, niche ones) had better taglines?

Well, in honor of St. Valentine, albeit five days late, I give you: The Top Ten Weirdest Online Dating Websites (and what their slogans should've been.)

Sugar Daddy
Current Slogan: Where the classy, attractive and affluent meet.
New Slogan: Where shameless gold diggers meet clueless rich dudes.

Daily Diapers
Current Slogan: The world's largest site for adult babies, adult diapers, diaper fetish, infantilism, plastic pants and adult baby clothes.
New Slogan: Hey, you shit in your pants too? Let's go out!

Date My Pet
Current Slogan: Date Me. Date My Pet.
New Slogan: We can't openly condone bestiality, but you get the idea.

Farmers Only
Current Slogan: Farmers, Ranchers, Ag Students & all of Agriculture, Horse, Livestock Owners & all Animal Lovers, Cowboys, Cowgirls, Rodeo Fans and Country Wannabes
New Slogan: Two words: barn sex.

Meet An Inmate
Current Slogan: Lonely Attractive Inmates in the USA Seek Penpals
New Slogan: Experience the joy of prison companionship (minus the painful anal rape.)

Tallmeet
Current Slogan: Where tall friends and singles feel at home!
New Slogan: Because you’d crush normal-sized-people.

Nerd Passions
Current Slogan: Boldly eschewing the shackles of conventional popularity, Nerd Passions is a place to embrace your nerdiness!
New Slogan: (Pretty much anything in Elfish and/or Klingon will do.)

H-Date (Herpes Dating)
Current Slogan: Time to starting dating again...
New Slogan: Join the ceespool!

Pot Partner
Current Slogan: Find your smokin' match.
New Slogan: Because no one else really understands Funions.

Republican Singles
Current Slogan: A community to meet the "Right" person.
New Slogan: Being wrong about everything never felt so "Right".

Adventures On The Internets

2008-02-17T14:39:00.009-05:00

Today I mistyped NFL.com and landed on NF.com, some sort of fifth-rate search engine that preys on football fans with shoddy motor skills.

(Click to enlarge)

I wondered how NF would stand up to Google so I typed "fart" into the search bar. I couldn't think of anything better on the spot. Here's what NF.com came up with.

(Click to enlarge)

The girl at the top gnawing on a shoelace notwithstanding, the search results weren't half bad. And while fart ringtones are enticing, I think we both know, I went straight for the fart machine.

(Click to enlarge)

Nine bucks? For a machine that farts? An iPod cost like $300, and all that thing does is play music. Must be some sort of misprint. My mouse hovered over the "Buy Now" button, despite the stern CAUTION label on the package: You may die laughing. I had to capitalize on this bargain.

I closed my eyes and clicked. And then, just as I whipped out my credit card, I stopped, and slid it quietly back in my wallet. A simple typo brought me to NF.com, and then, entranced, I almost purchased a remote-controlled fart machine.

NF.com must be doing something right. Because that's never happened to me on Google.

My Tiny Hero

2008-02-13T14:20:00.010-05:00

Being the strongest dwarf in the world is a lot like being the fastest snail. No one cares. But that doesn't stop pint-sized bodybuilder Aditya 'Romeo' Dev, who is, by the looks of this photo, scarily serious about his trade.

You'll notice, he's just about eye-level with his trainer's balls. But don't let his stature, or his lifelong proximity to testicles fool you, 'cause he can lift, count 'em, TWO 1.5 kg dumbbells. If you just did the math, or you know what a kilogram is, you're probably thinking, "hey, that doesn't sound like much." Which, I have to admit, is exactly what I thought.

But then I saw Romeo standing next to what I can only assume is a toothpick...

And his trainer holding him up like an Oscar statuette...

And him struggling, like a constipated Sumo wrestler, to lift what look to be the same weights they give to old women during pool aerobics...

And I was convinced. He is the strongest midget in the world. And then I realized, being the strongest midget in the world is like being the fastest snail. No one cares. But Romeo, if you're reading this, I want you to hang in there. Once Howard Stern catches wind of you--and believe me, he will--you'll be getting more ass than you can handle.

Presidon't

2008-02-11T17:17:00.000-05:00

In my first post ever, I decided Rudy Giuliani wasn't allowed to be President. Shortly after my post--and I can only assume, directly because of it--Rudy was out of the race. I'm still not too keen on this guy walking around among the general public without a neck, but so long as he's not leading the free world, I'll make due.

Then, shortly after I wrote about Mitt Romney's heinous attempt to fit in with black people on Martin Luther King Day, he dropped out of the race. Coincidence? I don't think so.

Today it has come to my attention that another presidential nominee is unfit for office. Now I know it's getting down to the wire, but I feel like I should do something. This one is really awkward, so I'm just going to come out and say it.

Mike Huckabee is a squirrel-eater.

Since you don't hear the term "squirrel-eater" bandied about in everyday conversation, allow me to explain. I don't mean squirrel-eater, like: once he ate a squirrel during a camping trip; I mean it like: he used to full-on roast squirrels in his college dorm room with a popcorn popper. Fucking gross. I know. But here's the proof.

Let's recap. When Tim Russert asked Huck about his rodent-sweet-tooth, here's what he said:

I should say it tastes a lot like chicken, but it doesn’t. It, it tastes like squirrel. It’s not the best thing in the world but, you know, when you go squirrel hunting, you got to do something with those things. And part of it was just to say we could do it. I mean, it was a college thing.

For the record, if you've never been to college, steaming squirrels in a popcorn popper is NOT a college thing. For now, Mike Huckabee is in the race. But when he drops out, you know who to thank.

Transfatass

2008-02-07T14:20:00.000-05:00

Mississippi--or, as I like to call it, America's Jellyroll--has a proposed bill that would effectively make it illegal for restaurants to serve obese people. You can read all about it, here. I understand the thinking, don't get me wrong, but do legislators really think they're going to solve anything? Banning fat people from restaurants is like banning crazy people from the 1AM time-slot on the Public Access channel. If fat people can't eat in public, they'll order in. And if they order in, by virtue of not having to get off their fat ass to walk to a restaurant, they're going to get fatter. And if they get fatter, who is going to do all the afternoon talk show specials about fat people getting air lifted out of their houses when they become too big to fit through the front door? Clearly they haven't thought this through. Maury Povich is only one man.

Stupor Tuesday

2008-02-06T11:08:00.001-05:00

Thousands of Virginians took to the polls yesterday, in a frantic attempt to exercise their voting rights. Unfortunately, Virginia's primaries are next week. I think we should get something clear. If you don't know what day your primary is, and you show up to your polling location a week early, you must go home, curl up in the fetal position, and try your luck again in four years. According to the Washington Post, more than 700 people called the Virginia State Board of Elections to ask, "Why aren't my polls opened, and where do I go to vote?" Here's an actual transcript of one of the calls.[1]

Confused Voter: Hi, my polling station is closed.
Elections Official: Yes, that's correct. The primary is on the 12th.
Confused Voter: So where do I go?
Elections Official: You don't go anywhere. The primary is on the 12th, Ma'am.
Confused Voter: The 12th what?
Elections Official: Um. The 12th of February.
Confused Voter: But it's Super Tuesday!
Elections Official: Ugh... Listen, Ma'am, here's what I'll do. Just tell me who you want to vote for, and I'll add it to the list.
Confused Voter: Really?
Elections Official: Sure. Why not.
Confused Voter: Okay, then. Mike Huckabee!
Elections Official: Okee-dokey. You're all set.
Confused Voter: Oh, good. Really?
Elections Official: Nope.

---Click---

Believe it or not, the voters of Florida make that caller look like a Rhodes Scholar. The Sunshine State's Election Board fielded over 100 calls yesterday. Which is funny, because Florida already voted. Last week. Just try telling that to the decrepit, hobbling, Alzheimer's patients, eager to partake in Super Tuesday's electoral festivities. The worst part: half of them still think their favorite New Yorker, Rudolph-No-Neck-Giuliani, is in the race. Oh, well. There's always ~~next year~~ four years from now.

Oh wait. They'll all be dead.

[1] Oh, I mean fake transcript.

Buckle Up, It's The Law

2008-02-05T16:00:00.000-05:00

So here's the scenario. You're in a car. You're wasted. And you've got two of your most prized possessions: your infant child and a case of cold beer. Despite your dangerously high blood alcohol level, you've nominated yourself to drive. You figure it's the safest option--beer can't drive, and the baby can't see over the steering wheel. So here's the question: Do you buckle up the baby? Or the beer?

If you said "the baby", well, you're half right. But don't get excited, you're also half dickhead. Babies go in car seats, they don't belong strapped behind a seatbelt like Sean Penn on a lethal injection table.

If you said "the beer", first off, you're probably an alcoholic. And while you might have already known that, you may not know that you're in an elite class of morons, "like, such as" Mike Tyson, Miss Teen USA: South Carolina, and Tina Williams, the gloomy-looking woman pictured below. She's gloomy, of course, because she's in jail. And she's in jail because she chose to buckle up her beer instead of her baby daughter. While drunk driving. You can see for yourself, here.

Lastly, if you said "wait a minute... don't cars have MORE THAN ONE FUCKING SEATBELT?" realizing, she could have just buckled both, congratulations, you're probably smarter than a 5th grader. Maybe you could win a million dollars.

Eli Manning: A Brief History

2008-02-04T10:56:00.000-05:00

My friend Ariel is a die-hard Giants fan. Last night, after gloating via text message, he insisted I write something about the Super Bowl today on this blog, in order to, as he put it, "commemorate this great moment in sports history." As a petulant Patriots fan, I don't think he really thought that one through. At all. That said, I hope he enjoys this heartfelt account of Super Bowl XLII, and it's shining star: Eli Manning.

According to FOX's Super Bowl pre-game show, Eli Manning uttered his first word at the age of three. Now I'm no child rearing expert, but as far as I'm concerned, if you haven't learned how to say "mama" by the time you're two, you're probably going to be riding the short bus to school. Retardation aside, Eli managed to sound out the words in his high school football team's play book, and conned his way into Ole Miss, which, as you may have guessed, is where our story begins.

At the University of Mississippi, Eli majored in killing the few straggling brain cells left in his largely hollow skull. While not a traditional major, his coaches and teachers agreed, it was pretty much the only thing he was good at. Well, that and football, which, luckily for Eli, landed him on a spot on the New York Football Giants, postponing his eventual fate in the Double Stuff Racing League.

Eli's four seasons as a Giant--like the comically large gap between Michael Strahan's front teeth--left much to be desired. And for four years, Giants fans became all-too-familiar with the now infamous "Manning Face".

Up until about three weeks ago, the "Manning Face" was pretty much the only face Eli ever made. But then, last night, as the clocked ticked away on the Giants' hopes, and Eli's boyhood dream, he managed to break 435 tackles and blindly heave the football down-field. Naturally, it sailed directly onto the head of David Tyree, where he calmly trapped it with his hand.

What...

...the...

...fuck.

As I watched the Patriots' perfect season unravel before my eyes, I couldn't help but think, "What is he, a fucking seal?" Honestly, if I ever see a football player catch a ball squarely on his face again, as if he's a well-trained porpoise at Sea World, mark my words, I'm going to feed myself to a manatee. Worst of all: there's a new Manning Face.

And even though it looks like he just won the Special Olympics, I still prefer the old one.

One Child Left Behind

2008-01-29T11:43:00.000-05:00

I used to think that the stupidest thing anyone could possibly say about a library was to call it a liberry... but I was wrong. Before I explain why, I need to get something off my chest: I don't understand mispronunciation. I'm not talking about words with more than one socially acceptable pronunciation--like Caribbean--I'm talking about words that can only be pronounced one way, yet somehow, a surprisingly vast contingent of idiots has opted to completely ignore the actual letters in the word, and insert their own, giving rise to gems like 'supposably' and 'nucular'.

Like I said, I used to think that people who mispronounced library were the crème de la crème of morons--and they are, I can't take that away from them--but there is a lower rung on the ladder of stupidity. Apparently, there are people so hopelessly feeble-minded that mispronouncing library is not even an option, because they don't know what a library is.

If stupidity were bright like the sun, you'd have to shield your eyes from this:

(click the image to enlarge)
You may have noticed that Selekta has 913 posts. This leads me to believe he was not born yesterday, which is actually pretty troubling. How he was able to repeatedly contribute to an online community over the course of what may well have been years, yet somehow never encountered a library, is totally beyond me.

Take Anything You Want

2008-01-28T16:14:00.000-05:00

I've uncovered the holy grail of weirdness.

If you're a Japanese woman who wants to learn English (specifically those phrases useful in the event of a violent mugging by men wearing bandannas) while doing aerobics to a synthesized 80s, fun house soundtrack... well, by God, I've got the video for you.

I sincerely cannot begin to understand why this video was produced. I also sincerely don't give a wet rat's ass because it's probably the best thing I've ever seen.

I Have A Dream

2008-01-22T00:40:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was Martin Luther King Jr. Day--and we all know what that means--George Bush had to hang out with black people. And I don't mean Condoleezza Rice and Colin Powell. While nothing particularly eventful happened, it got me to thinking: Kanye West was wrong when he said George Bush doesn't care about black people...

Black people just don't care about George Bush.

And then, there's Mitt Romney, who spent the holiday canoodling with parade-goers in Jacksonville, Florida. The trouble is, Mitt Romney can relate to black people about as well as I can relate to victims of female genital mutilation, as evidenced by this well-timed Baha Men reference.

In an earlier post, I referred to Mr. Romney as "the whitest man alive". And if you just heard him say, "who let the dogs out?" I'm sure you'll agree: I was right.

Flying Cars

2008-01-18T14:36:00.000-05:00

Why is it that every time someone says "in twenty years we'll have flying cars" they're fucking wrong? I don't get it. We've been talking about flying cars for like 100 years, but we still don't have them. We have planes. We have cars. What's the problem? Scientists have even bred Napoleon Dynamite's favorite animal, a liger, but somehow, they can't put wings on a car.

This clip, from the 1958 Disneyland episode "Magic Highway USA", explores the future of the American highway system. It turns out, in the last 50 years, we've done exactly nothing to make our highways cooler--no automated vehicles, no color coded lanes, no car escalators, no cargo rockets--nothing! What the hell is going on here?

The two biggest highway innovations since 1958 are probably E-ZPass and those little ridges on the side of the road that make your whole car shake like an F5 earthquake when you drift over them. And guess what, highways still look like this:

Thanks, E-ZPass. Way to put the "boo" in tollbooth. This is why we need flying cars; there would be no traffic. Sure, we'd have the occasional mid-air collision, and shards of debris falling from the sky... but we'd get used to it.

There's one thing that I will never get used to, though: lies. In 2005, 60 Minutes ran a story called "Flying Cars Ready To Take Off". But it might as well have been called "Fuck you, America!" because I haven't seen a car in the sky. Ever.

In fact, the newest car making headlines is the Tata Nano, which is so far from a flying car it makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a rusty ice-cream scoop. This thing makes minivans look cool. In fact, it's basically just a MINI-minivan, which goes to show, we'll never make a flying car. If making a minivan more mini is the best thing to happen to cars this year, then I'm afraid the closest we'll ever get to flying cars is The Jetsons--which reminds me, we could use some robotic maids, too.

Retirement Home(less)

2008-01-17T13:36:00.000-05:00

Three months ago I began contributing to my company's 401(k) plan. I was told that this was a "good idea" and that I needed to take personal responsibility for my "future" since Social Security--total misnomer, apparently--will be all dried up by the time I'm ready to retire.

Though somewhat dismayed, I decided to fork over the cash. I imagined my 401(k) climbing to absurd heights--someday, I figured, I'd need a massive vault for my untold riches. I'd dive into it every morning like Scrooge McDuck. But after three months, when the quarterly statement arrived, here's what I saw:

Not a great start. My personal rate of return is negative 1.8%. In other words, since I've begun "saving" for retirement, I've lost fifteen dollars. At this rate, by the time I'm 65, I'll have like 7 dollars. Factoring in inflation, I'll be lucky to get a pair of sweatpants from the Salvation Army.

At this point, the Ducktails vault seems unlikely.

High Fashion

2008-01-16T15:16:00.003-05:00

If you've ever wondered why they call it "high-fashion" it's because in order to appreciate it (and certainly to have conceived it) you've got to be high.

Just to be clear, I don't mean high like taking a few puffs off a joint. I mean high like shooting black tar heroine directly into your beating heart.

The following photos, from Fashion Week in Milan and Hong Kong, provide ample evidence for my theory.

Designer: Prada
What they were thinking: "Shit. Too plain. Throw a mini-skirt over it."

Designer: Michael Lau
What he was thinking: "What if Hannibal Lector fucked a wicker basket?"

Designer: Rachel Chan
What she was thinking: "Elegant, with a hint of woolly mammoth."

Designer: Emporio Armani
What they were thinking: "Eskimo. No, that's lame. Jet-puffed Eskimo."

Designer: Vivienne Westwood
What she was thinking: "Why are there crickets chirping inside my head?"

Designer: Lim Hyunhee
What she was thinking: "This dress would look magnificent covered in ostrich shit."

Tourettes Commentary

2008-01-15T11:24:00.000-05:00

After a two game losing streak, the Boston Celtics have fallen to a dismal 30-6, a mere 10-and-a-half games above Toronto in the Atlantic division. I’m no expert, but I don’t think the Celtics have been 10 games ahead of another team since Grover Cleveland was president.

Whom can we thank for this success? The answer is not what you might think. Watch this 30-second highlight reel from ESPN to find out. (Note: the answer comes about 27-seconds in.)

MITT ROMNEY!? Why the hell did he just yell "Mitt Romney" when Garnett threw down a dunk? Granted, he’s the former governor of Massachusetts... but Mitt Romney? When Garnett dunks? I just don't see the correlation between the whitest presidential nominee ever, and a 7-foot black man.

That's why I've come up with this comprehensive list of which candidate’s name ESPN announcers must shout illogically during Sportscenter, and when.

In tennis, an errant serve nearly kills the line judge: Hillary Clinton

When the only black guy in the NHL scores: Barack Obama

Bob Knight throws a chair and/or strangles a player, opposing coach, or referee: Fred Thompson

Two (or more) outfielders collide, missing the ball; a go-ahead run scores: John Edwards

A fat NFL lineman hobbles off the field with an ankle sprain: Mike Huckabee

In NASCAR, when there's a horrible car accident: Ron Paul

A golfer decimates a nest full of baby birds when his drive goes off course: Rudy Giuliani

In figure skating, when someone executes a flawless triple-toe-loop, then flubs a simple lutz: Dennis Kucinich

Brett Favre suffers a concussion, comes to, and thinks he's on Star Search: John McCain

Oh Heavens

2008-01-14T15:04:00.000-05:00

If you took the book of Genesis, a Babylon 5 script, and L. Ron Hubbard's diary, and threw it all in a blender, the resulting pulp will more or less resemble the Mormon creation myth.

It's that awesome.

While the Mormon version doesn't make half as much sense as Darwin's theory, it's at least twice as funny. Which evens things out in my book.

If you disagree with evolution, that's totally fine by me. At least as long as your version of the "facts" is a hell-of-a-lot funnier and/or involves aliens. But if you're serious, and you try to get all sciencey, you're probably just going to end up looking like a jack-ass... like this guy:

One of the most basic laws in the universe is the Second Law of Thermodynamics. This states that as time goes by, entropy in an environment will increase. Evolution argues differently against a law that is accepted EVERYWHERE BY EVERYONE. Evolution says that we started out simple, and over time became more complex. That just isn't possible: UNLESS there is a giant outside source of energy supplying the Earth with huge amounts of energy. If there were such a source, scientists would certainly know about it.

Yeah! Take that, science. Unless there's a giant outside source supplying the Earth with huge amounts of energy--

Oh...

He must have forgotten about that source of energy. Which is understandable... I mean, it's just a GI-FUCKING-GANTIC ball of flaming gas that lights up the sky EVERY SINGLE DAY.

Up Shit's Creek Without A Brain

2008-01-13T23:14:00.000-05:00

Have you ever looked at a toilet and sincerely thought, "Gee, what's that for?" If you're able to read these words, you probably haven't. That's why when I saw this sign, allegedly posted above a toilet in Cambodia, I knew something was amiss.

If you need a sign to tell you not to squat atop a slippery porcelain pot filled with steamy feces, you've probably got bigger problems than falling into a toilet. I'm willing to bet anyone who has seriously considered this, has also considered jamming a fork into an electrical outlet.

You'd think sitting on a toilet would be pretty intuitive. It's basically a chair, after all. But the truth is, if someone went to the lengths of designing, printing, and posting an actual warning sign, someone must have already squatted on a toilet seat (and most likely fallen in.)

And when I say someone, I mean this guy...

RIP, my man. And thank you for not reproducing.

Too Much Lasagna, Garfield

2008-01-12T14:17:00.000-05:00

Holy Shit...

2008-01-11T10:40:00.000-05:00

Quick! Someone get this dog's ass on ebay.

The Cloverfield Monster

2008-01-10T13:53:00.000-05:00

Fanboys haven't been this excited since George Lucas announced The Phantom Menace. Everywhere I go, every time I open a magazine, everyone is talking about the Cloverfield monster, like it's Britney Spears' latest love child. It's (apparently) such a big deal that the trailer has prompted TENS of movie-dorks to break out their spy kits and start looking for clues, as if J.J. Abrams accidentally forgot to cut the monster from the trailer; and as if the fact that no one knows what the "monster" looks like isn't the only reason anyone is going to see this crappy movie.

ATTENTION MOVIE NERDS: This isn't a fucking Where's Waldo book. There is no monster hidden in the trailer.

Alas, the search goes on...

One site--which is particularly hilarious, I might add--is entirely devoted to Cloverfield and the mysterious monster. It's aptly called "What's Cloverfield?" and it's written by "a guy writing about Cloverfield to learn better english" (his words, not mine.)

Below, I've reproduced what is by far the best post on the site. I've also underlined a few sentences which caused me to projectile spew my coffee Saved-By-The-Bell-style all over my keyboard.

You'll have to click the image to read it. It's well worth it.
My favorite part has to be the update within an update that totally debunks the initial update. Keep the dream alive, buddy. English is a tough one to master, but not as hard as comedy... and you've got that down pat.

Wal-Mart Cake

2008-01-09T22:46:00.000-05:00

This is why Wal-Mart sales associates should not be asked to answer phones and operate icing at the same time.

I can just imagine the phone call...

Caller: Hi there, I'd like to order a cake.
Wal-Mart Guy: K. Lemme get some icin'.
Caller: Um... alright...
Wal-Mart Guy: K. Ready!
Caller: Best wishes Suzanne...
Wal-Mart Guy: Beessttt Wiiiiissshheeesss Suuuuuzzzaaannnnee. And then?
Caller: And underneath that... we will miss you.
Wal-Mart Guy: Under neat dat we will mis you. Ok, thanks for shopping at Wal-Mart, I mean calling at Wal-Mart. Would you like some birfday candles or a ciminon air freshener today?
Caller: Uh... no, just the cake. Thanks.
Wal-Mart Guy: O.K., bye Suzanne. We will miss you.

I love this country.

Sticky Situation

2008-01-09T11:13:00.000-05:00

A 10-year old Mexican boy was so adamant about not returning to school after Christmas break that he glued his hand to his bed.

Clearly, this kid doesn't need to go to school. He's already a genius. There were a lot of days in my childhood where I would have rather watched The Price is Right than go to school, but I never thought of gluing my hand to my bed. And if the thought had occurred to me, I probably would have done some lame shit like use a glue stick, or scotch tape. If I was really on the ball I might have tied a lamp to my wrist. But it would have backfired, and I'd have to walk around all day with a lamp dangling from my arm.

But not young Diego. He went straight for the industrial stuff.

His plan worked so well that his mother was forced to call the police for help. Unfortunately, the authorities freed him in time for class. But I think Diego learned his lesson. Next time, he'll take bath in concrete.

Iron My Shirt

2008-01-08T13:42:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, during a Clinton rally at Salem High School, two protesters waving signs started yelling "Iron my shirt!" at poor Hillary. You know... because she's a woman.

It turns out, these guys weren't ordinary protesters. Nope. They were retards.

Okay, that's unfair. Only one of them was actually a retard. The other was just an idiot. Apparently, some crappy Boston-area radio show that no one has ever heard of called "Toucher and Rich" was responsible. A few of their trusted lackeys, Adolfo Gonzalez, an associate producer, and Nick Gemelli, a mentally-challenged intern, were the brilliant minds behind the stunt. And all things considered, it was a rousing success.

By "rousing success" I mean "somehow no one got tazed".

When questioned, 21-year-old Adolfo told reporters that his name was "Hugh Jas". Which is actually kind of funny, I'll admit. But then, I realized it was probably just a last ditch effort to conceal his true identity, and more importantly, his MySpace page, in which he refers to himself as "Captain Fun" and admits he's a Republican who's never had a girlfriend.

There isn't really a moral to this story. But if any of my readers in the 617 see Captain Fun, do me a favor and yell at him.

"Flip my burgers!" will do.

Limbo Skating

2008-01-07T10:36:00.000-05:00

CNN took a break from obsessing over Hillary Clinton today to talk about something of vast importance: a skinny, six-year-old Indian boy who roller skates under parked cars. No. I am not making this up.

Little Aniket, who looks like a flying squirrel with an eating disorder, is hoping to break his own world record by "limbo skating" under 100 parked cars. Last March he took home the unofficial world record by skating under 57 cars in 45 seconds; now he's ready to up the anti.

I know what you're thinking. And yes, "holy shit" is a valid response to that picture. The best part of the story, however, is when one of the CNN anchors breaks into the report midway and admits, seeming truly upset, "that is weird... I'm sorry."

When asked why 100 cars, Aniket said, "I want a record no one can beat for a long time." Well, your record is safe with me. I don't think I could limbo skate under an overpass.

You can watch the video here. You won't regret it.