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

Flu Shots

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

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.

Fuck Seeds

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.

Take It From An Eye Doctor

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!!!??"

Through The Wire

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

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

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

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

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.

Help A Virgin

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.

Iranistan

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

Palintology

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

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.

McBoycott

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."

The Love Bug

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bill O'Roid Rage

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


Go fuck yourself, San Diego.

Guilty, And Guilty

From the Houston Chronicle:

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

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

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

You would get so fired.

Burger Police

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



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

You Might Be A Redneck If...

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


[Source: Some guy's Flickr.]

Buckle Up, It's The Law

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.