This poor woman. Probably thought she was going to be advertising a new bacon cheeseburger. Nope. You are now the paradigm of obesity in America. Such are the dangers of modeling for a stock image company.

Professionalizationatude

How to Make Anything Look More Official

Step 1. Use Courier.

Step 2. Justify text.

Step 3. All caps.

(Optional) Step 4. No frilly punctuation.



I Don’t Give A Rat’s Dick, Study Says

I need to talk to the NIH, CDC, numerous state Health Offices, as well as members of every university Board of Directors in the country. I have very important information that can save them money, and all they have to do is click here*. But really, here’s how you can stop wasting money: stop funding studies on diet and exercise.

Seriously. How many times do we need to affirm that eating more fruits and veggies, and doing daily exercise will be beneficial?  Or that obesity raises your risk everything? Who is waking up in the morning, saying “Yes! Once and for all, I shall prove that a low calorie diet coupled with regular cardiovascular exercise is actually better for you than inactivity, morbid obesity and chain smoking. Hazaa!”

Don’t think this is a problem? Let’s look at the impact these studies have on the Research-O-Sphere by playing a fun game: go to Google (or GoogleNews) and search the terms “health” and “study suggests” – you’ll be entertained for literally fives of minutes. These are basically the scientific (very loose meaning of the word) equivalent of spam emails; the same thing over and over in different colored packaging. I’ve put a few examples down below, but this is by far my most/least favorite:

Study shows exercise and diet improve cholesterol in overweight and obese adults

March 19, 2012 in Overweight and Obesity

(Medical Xpress) -- According to a recent report, more than 68 percent of American adults are either overweight or obese. A study by researchers in the West Virginia University School of Medicine, Tufts University and Stanford University shows that exercise and diet improve cholesterol in overweight and obese adults.

Exercise Could Boost The Immune System, Study Suggests

Diet, Exercise May Boost 'Good' Cholesterol, Study Suggests

Health Buzz: Childhood Obesity Linked to BPA, Study Suggests

Study suggests how expanding waistlines may contribute to cancer

Belly Fat Adds to Diabetes Risk in Obese Adults, Study Finds

Study says an apple a day may help keep cancer away

Sitting Ourselves to Death? Study Says Cutting Couch Time Could Bump Up Life Expectancy

Shoppers who read food labels are thinner, study says

Obesity Surgery Seems to Reduce Heart Risks, Study Says

Even a Little Exercise Can Help Improve Heart Health, Study Finds

Study Shows How Exercise Reduces Heart Disease Risk



REUTERS News: Entire World Wins Nobel Peace Prize

The GVF

http://genesisveracityfoundation.com/

______________________________________________________________________________

This is either incredible satire, or amazingly ignorant biblodribble. I couldn't have made a more ridiculous site if I tried.

BSL-4 PPPS Optional

I'm not sure what diseases I think I'm preventing by using those tissue-paper toilet seat covers, but god forbid the thing shift slightly, and contact is made. Might as well be the bubonic plague.

Just The Tip

On the radio today there was a segment about how 20-30% is the new norm for tipping. If that is the case, then I’m proud to be an outlier. I mean, I understand tipping as a reward; but as a matter-of-course? No thank you. That's like going to a store and having a “25% On” coupon they force you to use. One of the people who called in to discuss the topic said something along the lines of, ‘If the service is really bad, yeah- I’ll leave like 10-15%.’ No, if the service is really bad, you leave no tip; or better yet, you leave 1% (which I imagine is more of an insult since it shows you made a conscious effort to say ‘You sucked’) My standard tip is around 12-15%, but functions on a sliding scale, based on service:

The How Big Is Your Tip? Scale 

1%                   - I actively hate you

5-8%               - You were a neglectful and unpleasant server

9-12%             - You brought food in a wholly unremarkable manner

13-16%          - You were polite, service was fine

17-21%          - You were very friendly and helpful, and comp’d me some drinks

≥22%              - You gave me a squeezer under the table

 

Go ahead and say it; "You're so cheap" but I won’t be made to pay a 30% ‘Guilt Tax’ because everyone else seems to have forgotten the point of tipping.

Some other things:

- If you brazenly proclaim that an “18% Gratuity Will Be Added for Parties of 6 or More”, don’t expect that number to go up, even to 19%.

- If the meal, and thus the bill, is very expensive, don’t expect the same proportions. Carrying a plate of Honey Seared Chilean Sea Bass and Chives requires the same amount of work as carrying a plate of Chicken Tenders and Fries.

- And as for the overly self-assured ladies, here’s a tip for you: having a set of tits is not as valuable as refilling my drink multiple times. If you want money for simply having boobs, become a stripper. Otherwise you’re the same as everyone else in my food-book.

To sum it up, here’s a scene from Reservoir Dogs where Mr. Pink (Steve Buscemi) has an educated and polite conversation about the pros and cons of tipping. Enjoy.

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Pink: I don't tip because society says I have to. Alright, I tip when somebody really deserves a tip. If they put forth an effort, I'll give them something extra. But I mean, this tipping automatically, that's for the birds. As far as I'm concerned they're just doing their job.

Mr. Blue: Hey, this girl was nice.

Mr. Pink: She was okay. But she wasn't anything special.

Mr. Blue: What's special? Take you in the back and suck your dick?

Nice Guy Eddie: I'd go over twelve percent for that.

Mr. Pink: Look, I ordered coffee, alright? And we’ve been here a long fucking time and she's only filled my cup three times. When I order coffee I want it filled six times.

Mr. Blonde: Six times? Well, what if she's too fucking busy?

Mr. Pink: The words "too fucking busy" shouldn't be in a waitress's vocabulary.

Nice Guy Eddie: Excuse me Mr. Pink, but the last fucking thing you need is another cup of coffee.

Mr. Pink: Jesus Christ man, these ladies aren't starving to death. They make minimum wage. You know, I used to work minimum wage and when I did I wasn't lucky enough to have a job the society deemed tipworthy.

Mr. Blue: You don't care if they're counting on your tips to live?

Mr. Pink: [rubbing his middle finger and thumb together] You know what this is? The world's smallest violin playing just for the waitresses.

Mr. White: You don't have any idea what you're talking about. These people bust their ass. This is a hard job.

Mr. Pink: So is working at McDonald's, but you don't see anyone tip them, do you? Why not, they're serving you food. But no, society says don't tip these guys over here, but tip these guys over here. It's bullshit!

Mr. White: Waitressing is the number one occupation for female non-college graduates in this country. It's the one job basically any woman can get, and make a living on. The reason is because of tips.

Mr. Pink: Fuck all that! I'm very sorry the government taxes their tips, that's fucked up. That ain't my fault. It would seem to me that waitresses are one of the many groups the government fucks in the ass on a regular basis. Look, if you show me a piece of paper that says the government shouldn't do that, I'll sign it, put it to a vote, I'll vote for it, but what I won't do is play ball. And this non-college bullshit you're givin' me, I got two words for that: learn to fuckin' type, 'cause if you're expecting me to help out with the rent you're in for a big fuckin' surprise.

Mr. Orange: You know what, you just convinced me. Gimmie my dollar back!

[end scene]

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mid-Life Crisis, Here I Come!

In an effort to more effectively embrace adulthood, I decided I need to do more adult-type things. I already have a 401(k), I've given up on most of my hopes and dreams, and I listen to talk radio (I like to alternate between NPR and WAVA Christian Media). More recently I've taken some smaller steps, such as ordering this cute My Family and Me rear-window decal, which I had custom made to accurately reflect my lifestyle. 



What America Means to Me

Despite a multitude of diverse and unique characteristics, the united states are just too numerous to devote individual and descriptive attributes to. That being said, I’ve compiled a list of all 50 states and paired them with what word (or phrase) I most closely associate with them; I think I speak for all of America so Governors, take heed:

**********************************************
Alabama – Racism

Alaska – Eskimos

Arizona – Grand Canyon

Arkansas – Nothing

California – Hippies

Colorado – Mountains

Connecticut – Nothing

Delaware – Nothing

District of Columbia – Murder

Florida – Alligators

Georgia – Peaches/ Racism

Hawaii – Hula girls

Idaho – Potatoes

Illinois – Abe Lincoln

Indiana – Nothing

Iowa – Corn

Kansas – Dorothy

Kentucky – Moonshine

Louisiana – Mardi Gras

Maine – Lobsters

Maryland – Crabs

Massachusetts – W.A.S.P.s

Michigan – Lakes

Minnesota – Nothing

Mississippi – Racism

Missouri – Nothing

Montana – A lot of nothing

Nebraska – Cows

Nevada – Prostitutes

New Hampshire – Nothing

New Jersey – A joke

New Mexico – Nothing

New York – Assholes

North Carolina – Wealthy racists

North Dakota – Nothing

Ohio – Nothing

Oklahoma – Oklahoma! (the musical)

Oregon – The Trail

Pennsylvania – Obsolete industries

Puerto Rico – Parasite

Rhode Island – Insignificance

South Carolina – Poor Racists

South Dakota – Mt. Rushmore

Tennessee – Racism

Texas – Fat Idiots

Utah – Mormons

Vermont – Cheddar/ Syrup

Virginia – Cigarettes

Virgin Islands – Whores

Washington – The 90's

West Virginia – Incest

Wisconsin – Dairy

Wyoming – Nothing

**********************************************

[percent = per cent = per one-hundred = out of 100]

If a statistic contains less than 100 individual data points, it’s not a 'percent'. If 35 out of 51 people surveyed said they had Chlamydia, say “35 out of 51 people surveyed have Chlamydia”; don’t say “68.6% of people surveyed have Chlamydia.” You don’t know that. True, if you maintained that exact ratio, a sample of 100 people would have a 68.6% incidence rate of Chlamydia, but you don’t know that. Basically, you're artificially doubling your sample size, Mike, and that is just wrong. So next time you try to tell me that 68.6% of your friends have Chlamydia, Michael William Wehnert, Jr., at least make sure you’ve talked to 100 people.

Quote of the Day

Whether you think you can or you can’t -- you’re right*.

*Provided, of course, you took into account your personal strengths and weaknesses, and considered as many possible outcomes as is needed to base a logical, statistically realistic conclusion on.

That, or, it could be Mono

Yesterday NPR did a piece on a couple who wrote a book on rabies (Lyssavirus rabies) and they brought up some interesting points. In a true Jungian fashion, the authors ascribed the most salient horror archetypes (i.e., vampires, werewolves, zombies) as all being based on some kind of animalistic behavior being transmitted through a bite, a la rabies. And they’re right. The connection between zombies and rabies is a little less subtle, but both vampires and werewolves are bite based; bats are notorious harbingers of rabies, and wolves are also known for being rabid (see 'Old Yeller'). Now the next time you watch Twilight you don’t have to choose between Edward and Jacob; they’re both Team Rabies!

No Sleepovers for Barry and Joey

Huh. Just found out the Vice President doesn’t live at the White House. I mean, I knew that, but I didn’t KNOW that; it’s one of those things that you acknowledge but don’t really think about. Like the inevitable destruction of Earth and all life inside the asteroid belt when the sun becomes a red giant in a few billion years. Happy Thursday.

Apparently the IOC is Very Protective of its Symbols and Intellectual Property

Luckily the transformativeness of this work is substantial enough to excuse me from any liability. Because everyone knows that a week before the Olympics, the IOC has nothing better to do than troll obscure blogs looking for potential copyright violations.

Color-Blind Taste Test

I love things whose color is also their flavor. It just simplifies the whole process of food selection. Well... candy selection. I don't know too many well-balanced meals that fall into this category. And I'm not talking about stuff that looks different, but tastes the same (e.g., M&Ms [Note: M&Ms do not have flavors, Liv]) or things that have specific flavors (e.g., a lemon Starburst).

These are foods that, when presented with a choice, the selection-response is given in the form of a color, not a flavor. Regardless of whether or not there is an intended flavor—the classification is purely chromatic. I suppose it's the confectionery equivalent of racial stereotyping.

Not exactly what I was talking about, but look-- I made a soda name/color rainbow!

Destructive Criticism

Art had it coming.

Snake Was a Pretty Awesome Game

I don’t understand people who like chatting on the phone. My own anti-social tendencies aside, talking on the phone is one of my least favorite things to do, regardless of who I’m talking to. As you both know, I’m much more likely to reply to an email or text than ever pick up my phone. Now, don’t get me wrong—there are times when calling is both useful and efficient. If I have something to say that would either be tedious and long to type out, I’ll gladly use the telephone. I have no problem with telephone calls under, say, 10 minutes; any issue you can’t resolve, or thought you can’t convey in under 10 minutes probably should be done over the phone anyway. Really, anything longer than that time period changes from conveying information to narrating your mundane life in real-time.

Example: People who stay on their phones when they’re ordering food. Not only are you making a statement to the food service employee that they’re not important enough for your full attention, but you’re also making whoever you’re talking to suffer through your order at Chipotle. Personally, I’d say “Call me back after you’re done, asshole” but then again, I’m sure like begets like, and the person at the other end of that line is two streets over, at a 5 Guys.

Maybe I’m just a considerate, efficient, thoughtful, handsome outlier, but I don’t see how talking for hours is justifiable. You know who I blame? Goddamn phone companies. Remember when “Minutes” and “Talk Time” meant anything to anyone? Those were the days; People called, you talked, you disconnected; and if you hung up and the timer read “0:59” you did a little happy dance. Oh what I wouldn’t give for my old Nokia 5190. It had a lightning bolt faceplate, and like 200 minutes. A year.

Ride your Dike To Work Day!

I hereby declare this first annual Greco-Roman Prefix Swap Day. For you at home, here's a chart so you can play along.

You and your family will have a blast taking these two archaic, failed languages and giving them the 'ole switcheroo! Hey thousands of years of progress-- guess who just became a linguistic novelty?!

Tell your friends to ride their dicycle (but not to overexert their tetrariceps), cause this event will be talked about for 10 years, or as we like to say, a decide! Even the Department of Defense will be celebrating at their headquarters, the Quintagon! But you should hurry; this day won't happen again until Heptember 2013! Dinosaurs! Terceratops! Octapuses! Marvin Gaye's Hexual Healing!

*BREAKING NEWS*

GENEVA (AP) -- CERN Scientists at the LHC have announced the first definitive visual evidence of the Higgs boson, or the so-called "God Particle" today. First reports have yet to be confirmed, but the agency posted this image on its webpage:

The physics community is sure to be abuzz with this ground-breaking discovery.

Amelia Earhart: A Great American Heroin

First of all, the woman’s name was Earhart. In the English language, we pronounce things as they are written, in this case, ear•hart; not air•hart, or ehir•hart, or any retro-application of feminist-induced mispronunciation. Anyway, Big Ears McGee crashed and died 75 years ago this week. Despite being championed as a female pioneer of flight, Earwax’s actual accomplishments have been more than distorted throughout history.

Conspiracy theories around her disappearance are most likely conspiracies (Conspiracy-Conspiracy Theories) to cover up the fact that she was an inexperienced gimmick riding high atop the coat-tails of the suffragette movement, and ultimately died due to poor planning and tepid execution of a trans-global flight. Most experts agree that she picked a way point that far exceeded her fuel capacity, and then tried to land on a shallow reef (Note: nowhere near the Bermuda triangle) and died.

Now you may be thinking that this is an assault on females in general, but really it’s an assault on idiots. For example, why is Armstrong Earwig put on postage stamps for being impulsive and unrealistic, when other female aviators (I refuse to use the term “aviatrix”) have barely ever seen the light of day? Raymonde de Laroche, Sabiha Gökçen, Beverly Burns – any of these ringing a bell? Didn’t think so. Even though these women put time and effort into fostering a sustainable flight career, we’d much rather hear about a tart who tried to land on a piece of coral. It’s what I like to call “James Dean and/or Kurt Cobain Syndrome” where people become famous for no reason other than the fact they died before everyone realized they were hacks. Of course they were “cut down in their prime” (Have you ever seen a James Dean movie? They’re like shit covered turds with a sprinkling of feces) so it’s anyone’s speculation as to how much potential for greatness they had. The truth is, had they survived another ten years they’d be as washed up as the wreckage of Earfart Stinkelton’s Lockheed Electra 10E.

Define "Success"

The weird thing is, I'm actually higher up on the list than most freshman members of congress.

The Order of Presidential Succession

 (under the Succession Act of 1947)

1. President
2. Vice President
3. Speaker of the House of Representatives
4. President Pro Tempore of the Senate
5. Secretary of State
6. Secretary of the Treasury
7. Secretary of Defense
8. Attorney General
9. Secretary of the Interior
10. Secretary of Agriculture
11. Secretary of Commerce
12. Secretary of Labor
13. Secretary of Health and Human Services
14. Secretary of Housing and Urban Development
15. Secretary of Transportation
16. Secretary of Energy
17. Secretary of Education
18. Secretary of Veterans Affairs
19. Secretary of Homeland Security

   …

  152747086. Me

Nood Gews

Good news! Blogger is no longer blocked. I have so much I've been needing to blog about!!!




Actually, nevermind. Nothing ever happens in my life.

LDLiEU #2

Today's LDLiEU is a less common phrase, although the loss of the literal meaning is nonetheless tragic; firewall. Literally, it refers to a colossal and insurmountable wall of flames, erected to protect some place or asset. In today's everyday use, it most commonly refers to a system of  computer security protocols, which can be reduced to a series of 1's and 0's.

Clearly there are some delusions of grandeur.

If You Enjoyed That Video...

I really don’t like YouTube. It’s got to be one of the most overrated, disorganized and inefficient forums within the social-media-industrial-complex (i.e., Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Blogger, CatF*cker.com). I mean, even Twitter allows you to filter out the gallons and gallons of liquid horse shit out there (though if you ever want to dip a toe, just click some of the trending hashtags). But try as I might, every time I search for something on YouTube, all I get is a fat, sweaty orgy full of things I really don’t want to see. Much like an actual fat, sweaty orgy.

I just don’t understand how a company owned by Google (the world’s #1 search engine) can be so obtuse and difficult to navigate. Even porn sites have better search filters. There needs to be a series of advanced search options like Don’t Show Me Videos of Jackasses Talking to Their Webcams or Filter Out All Videos Over 3 Minutes, but less than 20 Minutes Because Those Don’t Belong on YouTube, Goddamnit. Also, music videos: literally no one, in all of existence, wants to see a teenage hipster play an acoustic cover of any song. Ever.  

YouTube may be a catylyst of free speech, but when that speech involves everything and everyone is simultaneously screaming “Hey- look at me!,” I think I’d prefer silence.

I Am Not a Hendecagon

On it's own, the statement "I plan on getting in a car accident" is either quite pessimistic, or slightly deranged. However, when juxtaposed with the alternative ("I don't plan on getting in a car accident") it suddenly becomes the more reasonable of the two; emanating less arrogance and naivety, and more practicallity.

Moral of the story: I make sense when compared to M-theory.

At Least It's Not 'Hitler-Os'

Supplement to My Tweet from Earlier Today

Trying to find other evidence of the militarization of the breakfast world, I stumbled across these short-lived cereals from the 1970s. Two were mass produced; the third... not so much.

Glaucoma Must Be Rampant

Today is April 20^th. Better known as 420. Best known as an excuse for people who already smoke pot regularly, to smoke it more. Aside from bringing shares of Frito-Lay into the black, today is remarkable [Note: Literal use of the word here. Nothing special about today; just something to remark on. Ass clown.] in that it brings the marijuana legalization debate to the surface, and stirs the ever-ironic ‘pot activist’.

Armed with more off-brand medical studies and anecdotal claims than a Creationist convention, the “Legalize it” crowd is a delightful amalgamation of Grateful Dead fans who can’t let go, 20-somethings who have a Bob Marley poster in their dorm room, and your run-of-the-mill-still-live-at-home-chill-dude stoner. Like other protesters, they technically have a cause. Unlike other protesters, it’s allowing a plant to grow so they can smoke it and get high. I mean, I’m sure there’s a great deal of solidarity between these folk and say, a Syrian protester in the city of Homs, under constant threat of death. Fight the power, right? Any way to you slice it (or roll it!!! LOL) it’s about as selfish a cause as causes get. But don’t tell them that; it’ll only bring up a well-rehearsed monolog, usually featuring various arrangements of buzz words (e.g., “cannabinoids”, “medicinal use”, “Canada”) and most likely, the smell of a dirty hippie.

I'm Thinking of Getting a Subscription

A Vague Reference To the Post's Theme...

I’ve been blogging long enough that I feel I should let my loyal reader see up my blog’s metaphorical skirt, and get a glimpse of how the magic happens.

First, I use a categorically pessimistic outlook on life to find some topic that is slightly unfavorable to me. I take said topic, and attack it from an extreme (and often silly!) position; usually expressing a fanatical religious or social overtone.

I go on to ask a series of rhetorical questions (which—let me tell you, are total softballs) which I answer in statements made only to further my otherwise-indefensible viewpoint. I try to work in a topical reference, or allude to some nominal current event, but I like to stay as far away from quote ‘facts’ un-quote as I can.

Somewhere in the post, I usually provide the reader with a series of examples to support my point. Usually three; the first two being somewhat reasonable, albeit slightly off, and then I like to make the third example an absurd contrast. The trick is to maintain a dead-pan writing style, so as to never break the illusion of being a cynical asshole.

Occasionally I’ll add a chart or picture I drew in MS Paint, or I’ll post some picture (usually whatever was the top hit from a casual Google Image search). Other times I’ll create a fake transcript or new story, ascribing it to an outside source. I almost always get bored or stop caring toward the end of a post, and usually run out of steam, resulting in a half-assed and abrupt ending.

Tim Burton, Please Stop

Holy shit. This may be old news, but I just found out: In 1998 there, there was almost a Superman Movie called Superman Lives that was/contained (and I'll list these out so you can savor each one individually):

• Directed by Tim Burton
• Starring (yeah, starring) Nicholas Cage
• "Reimagining" of the Superman suit as a multi-colored, semi-translucent suit with glowing fiber optics
• A main villain that was a giant spider

Not that Superman Returns was a gem, but could you imagine the cinematic abortion that would have resulted if this movie had been made? I can only fathom that it would be the inbred offspring of Ghost Rider and Burton's Batman Returns (which itself was grotesquely campy and tastelessly done).

If you want details and images of the screamingly flamboyant Supersuit, check the links.

http://www.comicsalliance.com/2010/11/01/costume-tim-burton-superman-lives/

http://www.comicsalliance.com/2010/12/13/more-superman-lives-bad-designs-tim-burton-nicolas-cage/

This is similar to my old post about why movie directors and producers feel the need to 'make their mark' on well established franchises. There are ways to assert your creativity without destroying all previous efforts. And Tim Burton is the worst. Sleepy Hollow, Batman Returns, Planet of the Apes, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory; all of them corrupted by his "unique reimaginings." He makes me so god damn angry. You're fucking weird- we get it. Now stop making movies that star the same six people as overly costumed neo-gothic characters in a one-off world. PLEASE.

JUSTICE DONT WAIT

Is there really a point to Supreme Court sketch artists? The venue never changes. The judges rarely change. I doubt the interior decor is constantly in flux. The only thing that really changes is the audience of balding men and frigid women in muted earth tone suits. God forbid I don't get the full experience of the nerdlington with the glasses sitting in the back row, or what I can only imagine to be a Barbra Bush impersonator sitting there in red. GOD FORBID.





The title of today's post is brought to you 
by my new catchphrase, courtesy of Dr. Pepper 10:
All That Fucking Taste- Just Ten Calories!



Agreed.

Spamalot

Here's a glimpse into my junk email folder.  

Most of these are pretty standard (do spammers actually think that using eastern european style accents will make words un-screenable?). I like the offer for sexy pictures from Jessica, a Christian single in my area, albeit one from an extremely sexually explicit sect of Christianity (probably a Methodist- am I right??). But my favorite is the first email, congratulating me for having someone (maybe) run a background check on me. Oh, to be so lucky...

LiDLIEU #1: Super Duper

Here's a new series of posts I like to call literal definitions lost in everyday use. Over the course of however long I feel like doing these, we'll explore the literal and/or actual meaning of common phrases, many of which have been lost or reappropriated.

For the inaugural entry we'll be looking at the phrase "party pooper". The accepted definition is more or less someone who makes shared activities less enjoyable for others, often by refusing to participate, or being the lone dissenter. The literal definition is someone who shows up to parties with the sole intention of taking a massive shit and making the place smell like holy hell, often while making loud, awkward grunts. An alternative definition involves a person who goes to a party, then very quietly and calmly shits their pants. Said person then walks around the party with a duce in their pants, making the other party goers very confused and uncomfortable.

Although the general and literal definitions are similar, everyday use of the term party pooper just doesn’t have the crisp, pungent potency of its literal counterpart.

pOsT tHiS tO 50 pEoPle oR uR GuNnA DiE evEnTuaLLy

The Internet has really taken all the challenge out of being a dumbass. Case in point: can you imagine how difficult and time consuming it was to send chain letters before the advent of electronic messaging? Especially the "forward this to 10 people or a little girl with no eyes will rape you" type of letter. You either had to be extremely gullible, or a grade-A dick to participate in old school chain letters. And now thanks to the Internet, you don't have to choose!

And on a related note:

In other news, the White house received a chain letter today from cash-strapped Russia. In it, Moscow officials wrote "...we are aware that the unilateral request to propagate this message sounds crazy; but we voted, and we all thought we'd give it a shot." The Kremlin goes on to state optimism that on Friday it will be kissed by its biggest crush, while simultabeously warning of bad luck, were the White House not to comply. Russian President Dmitry Medvedev added "We did not send the last letter we got, and look what hs happened."

Stickier Image

I'm all for a non-hostile work environment, but this is, well, this is great.

Sharper Image Item No: 145791
Morale Boosting Employee
Physical 'Happy Time' Case
$49.99 Each



The DJ Rev Dr. Alfonzo Buttsmakkah

As many of you- well, as Mike and Olivia know, I have a deep resentment for people who describe their music taste as “whatever’s on the radio” or “whatever I can dance to” (basically using the noun ‘whatever’ is a no-no*) . Furthermore, I have resentment for people who feel compelled to always listen to music. You know the type; always has the radio on or an iPod in- regardless of what they’re doing. And the thing that chafes my ass is that 10 times out of 9, that people would describe themselves as a ‘music lover.’

No.

You can say that you have a need for constant aural stimuli, or that your own insecurities require intense, thought-suppressing sonic overload. But you don’t love music. You are a compulsive overeater – not a gourmet. You are a nymphomaniac – not a sensual love-maker. You are a daily blogger – not a literary master**. You are the bargain brand toilet paper that needs twice as much to absorb – not Charmin © Quilted Ass Blankets™.

Granted I’m portraying myself as a music snob (which is true) but as long as you demonstrate some form of discerning taste, I don’t care what you listen to***. Just don’t be a dick in the mud about it. As The DJ Rev Dr. Alfonzo Buttsmakkah once said, “Refine yourself before ye untwine thyself.”





* “Whatever and Ever, Amen” by Ben Folds Five is a notable exception. I don’t really like the album, but that’s for different reasons.

**I am both.

***Anything on CMT and/or BET is objectively horrible.

Something About News or Somethimngc

I love how, if you’re a reporter, a press secretary, or a PR officer, you can put a spin on absolutely everything. All you have to do is cite an anonymous source, and you can say anything you want.

“Sources say that Governor Williams was in possession of several underage Vietnamese boys which he used as sex slaves. The Governor’s office could not be reached for comment.”

Regardless of minor details (such as: that my source is a homeless lady with a milk-jug helmet, and that the office couldn’t be reached because I was too lazy to look up the number) that statement is factually sound. Libel, you say? Go ahead. Find me evidence that there WASN’T a government funded sex slave dungeon in an abandoned warehouse near the docks. That brings me to my next point; the wonderful world of jargon!

Call it legalese, or double-speak, but with a few minor substitutions you can soften even the most heinous proclamations. Let’s build on the previous example by generating a response from the Governor’s office (Note the softening of the loaded term ‘sex slave’)

“The Governor may or may not have employed certain physically obligated coital assistants during his tenure, but I assure you that at this time, the administration is launching a full investigation into the matter.”

This is what we call a power play. The fact that they claim to be launching an investigation is another way of saying ‘give us a month or two to clean up this mess.’ Luckily, there’s a fail-safe counter move; the muckraker.

Little more than a voyeur, the muckraker’s job is to invade any and all aspects of a person’s life with the sole intention of destroying that person’s public image. The journalistic equivalent of a trailer-trash talk show, muckrakers aren’t content with merely inconveniencing a target. No, they want Jerry Springer style drama: transsexual prostitutes, illegitimate baby-mama drama, closeted homosexual and/or Klansman. Let’s observe.

“In shocking hidden-camera footage obtained by our own Connie Loradopolis, we see what appears to be then-Governor Williams dressed in leather and tied to a bed, with several unnamed individuals putting clothespins on his nipples.”

Granted, Connie Loradopolis paid a local S&M club to act out this scene and had her news team produce it (as evidenced by the high production value, including star-wipes and editing for continuity) but by this point it doesn’t matter. The damage is done; the final blow delivered. Resignation is almost inevitable, but responsibility is far from it. Here’s what Governor Williams would say in his speech:

“In light of recent accusations brought against myself, my office, and my core values, I have talked and prayed with my family, and feel that it is no longer in the best interest of the state, and it is no longer in the best interest of my family, that I remain in office. In no way does this mean I accept these allegations as true; I don’t even like Asians that much. At this time, I hereby cede control of the great state of Texas to my very capable Lt. Governor, Jeffrey Dahmer (no relation). Thank you all for your support, and God Bless.”

Translation, “F*ck all of you- I’m out.”

Fifty is Nifty

As much as I hate its people, I love America. Jingoism aside, we’re number one- and for good reason. Yes sir, the 50 States have a system that for better and for worse, works well. But hark! What’s this? Some terrorists are seeking to destroy our flag, and cause massive chaos? Yes dear readers, that is correct: the anti-American denizens of the so-called ‘District of Columbia’ think they deserve statehood. Nothing could be further from the truth.

From its inception, Washington D.C. had the explicit intention of operating outside the realm of statehood; a Vatican City of political being. But unlike the Vatican, the designation of the region has been long established (circa 1792). That means for the last 200 years, people have known darn well what they’re getting themselves into; no ambiguity, no lack of clarity. Despite this, people kept (and keep) moving there, and then act surprised when they can’t have everything exactly how they want it. Sorry Malcolm, but this time you did land on Plymouth Rock.

The very notion of degrading the district into statehood not only weakens federal autonomy (since all federal buildings would now be located in state-taxed areas) but can also be seen as an act of secession. Just think- the physical aspect of D.C. was bore out of land ceded by the great state of Maryland, not some unclaimed Manifest Destiny-era territory. To take that land, parse it, and then declare it autonomous is an act akin to a seditious insurrection, a la Fort Sumter. If the denizens of that region want to be treated as state-fellows, they can humbly return the land given to them and assimilate. Not selfishly, and naïvely stand atop their half-square and shout glittering generalities of taxation and freedom.

You Can Be Jack, or Billy Zane

I always have these great ideas for blog entries, but never write them down because I think to myself 'Golly gee, this is the best idea ever- there's no way I could ever forget this!' And then I end up writing about how all my best material escapes me. I'm like Rose, and this blog is the Titanic. And my ideas are that necklace, and the ocean is, well, probably a butterfly or some other distraction. Also, due to a contractual obligation, James Cameron reprises his role and directs my abstract metaphors.

An Inopportune Reality

The Mayan civilization was the most advanced American civilization, until of course, we came along. Their massive pyramidal temples and comprehension of mathematics and astronomy made them stand out in history as ‘trendsetters’ so-to-speak. But recent evidence has revealed that despite their Mesoamerican supremacy, the might Maya may have been brought down by climate change. That’s right- climate change. Recent data indicated that drought and unfavorable temperatures led to massive crop failures, and likely widespread famine.

Not being light-weights when it came to predicting events (i.e., the soon-to-be 2012 Apocalypse) there is ample evidence to support that several key members of the Mayan hierarchy foresaw these catastrophic events, and tried to warn their emperors. But ancient runes show that there was a powerful anti-climate change lobby within the Mayan priesthood. Mayan codices show that several revered priests reported that they saw no such catastrophe when they gazed into their virgin-blood basins, and then used propaganda and misdirection to distract the lower and middle caste members of society from noticing. By claiming that the changes were the will of their lord and savior, Q'uq'umatz the feathered serpent, the priesthood published numerous texts and sites dedicated to denying the climate change evidence. It took the work of the Mayan Emperor’s second-in-command, creator of the inter-networking of aqueducts, to weave a story telling the people the inopportune reality that was upon them. Naturally, the priesthood accused him of blasphemy, which resulted in his heart being severed from his still-living corporeal being, and all his blood being drained.

The moral of the story is: look where the Maya are today- they’re famous! If we ever want to be remembered as a ‘great civilization,’ we need to die out now- not in a few thousand years. We need to be the global equivalent of James Dean- not Elizabeth Taylor. Odds are, if we keep going on with a few limitations here and there, and minimal yet noticeable regulation, we’ll just get fat and old, and no longer attractive (historically speaking) and no one will ever want to study us. I say drill baby drill, pump baby pump, and deforest baby deforest. Not just for us- but for our children, and our children’s children (who most likely won’t have children of their own).

Beware the Nones of March

February is Black History Month; a trivial dedication of 29, but usually 28, days to celebrate the history of an entire race of people. (really though, who picked February- the runt of the month litter?) Then in March, we dedicate the same  nominal amount of time (plus 2-3 extra days) to celebrate the history of half the planet. Are you catching my drift? If not, The Onion said it best with their article on White History Year; the distribution of ethnically, culturally, and sexually diverse temporal celebrations is far from equal. Just look at this list of Month-type celebrations I've compiled. 

 Look at that. December and January are left empty, meanwhile we're cramming March to the brim. (granted- if you happen to be a hairy Mediterranean woman with redhair and a drinking problem this is quite convenient, but we can't all be so lucky [Hi Elise!]) Being the civil and kind man that I am, I sat down one night, had a few drinks, and devised a revised surprised ingenuitized yearly calendar of celebrations. Behold the end-result:

By doing away with the so-called "white people" cultural celebrations, we can see a much more distributed belittling of peoples. Now everyone gets patronized with an equally offensive fleeting focus (except white, land-owning males; we still call dibs on the whole year)

Ash Wednesday

I got a whole lot less excited for this post after a google image search for "Ash Wednesday" revealed that I am not the only person with a deficit of maturity, and an excess of time.

It's Oscar Season!

There’s a lot of speculation and water cooler buzz going on about this Sunday’s Oscars. By most accounts, this is going to be another ‘art house’ year, where all the categories get swept under the so-called post-modern Blanket of Confusion (+2) and no one is really happy. But I have faith in this year’s Oscars; I think that the awards will go out to the Oscars who deserve it. Here are my predictions:

Really? Like, really?

Come on Google News/ Register. At least make your obscene references subtle.