Who's the Man With the Big, Black Balls? Bill Cosby!

That title was the punchline to a golfing joke I heard at a Cub Scouts camp out. I know what you're thinking, and yes, some kids were probably molested.
Many years later, Bill Cosby is an accused rapist? Coincidence? Actually, it was several years ago that he was first accused of rape, but no one cared because he paid his hush money up front and people got distracted by their flip-out cell phones and boy bands.
Is Bill Cosby a rapist? No. He's a serial rapist. Remember that Swedish dude from "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo?" He's basically him, but without the kickass secret rape-basement. A rapesment.
The question is: Does America really care as much as it think it does? Let's break it down:
America loves itself some criminal celebrities. Being a dirtbag celebrity rake in millions each year.You can get away with anything as long as you have enough name recognition in America. Don't believe me? Lindsay Lohan, Mel Gibson, Robert Downey Jr., etc. America loves a dirtbag as much as it loves a comeback.
But rape is a bad, bad crime. Doesn't that count for something?
No. Not according to the history.
Sean Penn? He fucking broke in his then-wife Madonna's house, beat her mercilessly and raped her. He threatened to kill her, but she eventually escaped. The fallout? Sean Penn is a millionaire with many accolades.
Michael Jackson? Did he butt-rape those little boys? Almost definitely. Why's he not in jail? For one: he's dead. If you need another reason: Thriller.
Mike Tyson has a new cartoon on Netflix where he solves mysteries. Wrap your head around that. Then remember he went to prison for rape.
Roman Polanski raped a thirteen-year-old girl, then fled to France, where he continued to be rich and sucessful. Many people have called for all charges to be dropped, despite the fact that he fucking did it and is fucking guilty as shit.
So yeah, there's four examples. Bill Cosby could be fully charged, go to jail, and then go on to be a multi-millionaire because America doesn't give a shit what you do, as long as you have had some sort of moderate success in the past.

We Have to Move These Microwave Ovens

For some reason I've never cared to delve into, my wife always leaves the microwave door wide open, so the little bulb inside has burnt out. I'm not about to replace it, because why the fuck would I ever need to see inside the microwave? It's a small box. The food you put in there looks the same as the food you take out with the exception of popcorn.You're not fucking soufles bread in there. You're cooking pizza pockets. Besides, the door has that weird fucking screen on it to protect you from deadly microwaves. The only reason you'd ever need a light inside there is to see if your dinner blew the fuck up, and if it did, why would you need to see that, aside from the fact that it looks awesome? Are you magically going to go back in time and stop it from happening? It's already blown up. Let it go, America. If your food catches fire, you'll be alerted by the fact there is now black smoke coming out of your microwave when there was no black smoke before.You can write this observation down in your science journal as you work towards your degree, then get an extinguisher.
If you have a microwave with a spinning tray, you can watch as your plate of food rotates and perch your fingers together and say, "Good. Good. I can see it's spinning. I am well pleased."Otherwise, the most interesting thing to watch is the purple lightning you get when you fuck up and put something metal inside.
I think the only reason there's a window in there at all is because we're all fucking paranoid. We're afraid that some shit is going to go down if we can't see. You'll put in your pizza pocket, and when you open the door again it's asparagus. It'd break you.
What if you cooked something, and when you went back it was gone? You'd accuse your whole family, but they'd deny everything. You'd become angry and sullen towards them as you try to decipher who did it, but in time you'd have your doubts. You begin to wonder if you even put something in there at all, or if you did perhaps it was completely disintegrated. These thoughts would linger with you the rest of your life, gnawing away at you in the dark hours.
Or perhaps you put in a bowl of soup to be reheated, but when you close the door you hear scratching. Concerned, you open the door and see nothing but your soup. When you close the door again, the same sound persists, and now you hear a slight mewing like a kitten. Alarmed, you immediately open the door, but still there's only the soup. ARE YOU GOING MAD? You can hear it all the time now, whenever you're in your kitchen. You can't tell anyone because you're afraid of what they'll say. One day, you wake up in the middle of the night to make a snack, and you hear it again. You ignore it, but the sound grows louder and louder until it fills up your head. Then there's a whispering coming from inside. You tell yourself it's nothing, but you have to make sure. You open the door and it's your own head in there staring back at you! ALL BECAUSE THERE WASN'T A WINDOW IN THE MICROWAVE.

Life of Pi

I haven’t read, “Life of Pi,” nor have I seen the movie, but from what I can gather it’s “Moby Dick,” only the whale is a tiger, and it’s in the fucking boat with him. When I was a young writer, I would read advice on how to make it in publishing, (Phil’s Pro-Tip: You can't). One of the first rules was to never write a, “Moby Dick,” story, because it would just be sent back to you with a rejection letter. It’s good to know, many years later, that I should have ignored that advice and plagiarized the shit out of someone else’s work. I’m not even talking about, “Moby Dick,” in this case. The author of, “Life of Pi,” was accused of plagiarizing another author’s work.

This Thursday is, “Pi Day,” because it’s March 14th. I just thought I’d tell you that in advanced, because you might want to filter your more annoying facebook friends now.

Pi, itself, is an illogical number. It supposedly goes on forever. Scientists and mathematicians (nerds) have tried numerous times to find a way to find the last digit, or the point at which it repeats itself. They’ve even calculated the type of computer it would take and how long it would take the average 1980’s computer to complete the calculation. Fact checking that the computer itself was correct if it ever does finish would take multiple generations. Really, though, if you guess which number is the last, you have a 1-in-10 chance of being right.

The real issue is that because of the absurdity of Pi it is impossible to 100% accurately calculate the circumference of a circle using it as a formula. You’ll always be off by the amount of decimal points you decided to stop counting. Meaning, Math is basically giving up. So celebrating Pi is celebrating human failure.

Subtle Shift

Nerds are in and jocks are out. How did that happen? One might point to prime-time TV with shows like Community and The Big Bang Theory, or they might point to Hollywood and the steady stream of comic book movies it produces. Or, they might point to the internet itself and all the advanced and readily available technological devices we use the internet on, which were created by nerds and now govern our daily lives. Nerds are the backbone of our Global Village. Video gaming has become a sport in and of itself. Jocks, meanwhile, are murdering people.

Athleticism and athletic competition was always supposed to be about what the human spirit could accomplish. With two hands, practice and sheer willpower, a man could become a living demigod on the field of play. Sports were supposed to be a metaphor for Man itself. If that is so, than man is an unrepentant, drug addicted, dog-drowning, wife-cheating/murdering psychopath who will stop at nothing to win the most meaningless challenge because winning equals money. Jocks have become the worst people alive. Up until the late 90’s people worshipped athletes like Wayne Gretsky and Michael Jordan like Gods. Today, Kobe Bryant has the shadow of a rape accusations over his head. Tiger Woods cheated on his wife and mother to his children at every opportunity. O.J. Simpson escaped a murder conviction to wind up in jail when he tried to steal back his former property he had to sell off at gunpoint from a legitimate collector. Lance Armstrong admitted to having doped after winning seven Tour De Frances. Michael Vicks abuses dogs for some reason. Pete Rose is a gambler/fgame fixer. Now, finally, Oscar Pistorius, a legless Olympic runner who should have been the feel-good comeback-from-adversity story of the century, shot his wife.

There are no triumphs in sports anymore, only cashed paycheques. There’s always been scandals with jocks, but the worst of it use to be boozing, game-fixing, and whore-mongering, which is the basis of any scandal. Today, there’s articles about how the entire football league (European) is controlled by organized crime, and any given game could be fixed.

Nerds, as the alternative to jocks, are flying under the radar as they always have. They’re manning the internet, for God’s sake. Everyone loves the internet because of it’s free access to Game of Thrones and Adelle mp3s. The very image of nerds is changing. Look at this fucker:

He’s got a star mohawk. He’s Starhawk. He’s putting robots on Mars. What’s Michael Vick’s doing? He’s drowning dogs in buckets of water. Starhawk wouldn’t do that. He’s too busy with his Raid party.

Nerds are more prevalent and accepted, and hence: less nerdy. Every loss by jocks is a gain for nerds. Unless Spacejam becomes a reality, jocks aren’t likely going to be making and headway anytime soon.

Canada Phases Out Penny

Canada is finally phasing out Penny.

After years of obsolesce, it was finally decided to do away with her entirely. A number of factors contributed to her decline. Some say it was the death of Dr.Claw to lung cancer in the late 90’s that first signalled the end, followed shortly thereafter by the death of her long-time side-kick Brain to old age.

Pictured: Brian the cartoon dog, not Brain the cartoon dog.
As she went to college, she grew apart from “Uncle” Gadget, who became the Governor of California Since then, she joined Apple, only to be promptly fired, rehired, then fired again. During her tenure, however, it’s believed she helped developed the iPad based on her own computer book, but was never credited for it by Steve Jobs, himself once a M.A.D. Agent.
Desperate for recognition, a now adult Penny used her sex appeal to promote a reality show and line of women’s perfume, bolstered by a widely-viewed unauthorized sex tape with Magilla the Gorilla, titled, "Inspect-Her Gadget: Penny for a Pound/Pounding Penny." She had frequent run-ins with the law, mostly due to her constant interference with police investigations and computer hacking, as well as drunk driving with Lindsay Lohan.
After Heath Ledger was found dead in her home due to an accidental overdose of prescription medicine, she fled from the limelight into total obscurity. No one has seen her in two year, and the Canadian government has declared her legally dead.

You’re Doing it Wrang

I had some serious debate with myself on whether or not to spell it, “Your,” in the title of this blog, but I thought that people wouldn’t get the joke. Quite frankly, I’m concerned some people might not get the, “Wrang,” part either. I have little faith in humanity.

I was thinking about how we talk to babies and teach them. For instance, we call puppies and kittens, “puppy,” and, “kitty.” Then we go off our rockers and add a, “Y,” or, “ie,” to every other conceivable word.

Horse becomes, “Horsey.”

Bird becomes, “Birdie.”

Dog becomes, “Doggie.”

Fish becomes, “Fishy.”

The list goes on, especially where animals are concerned. We’re adding a syllable to every other word. Doesn’t that get confusing to babies? That they’re expected to learn something and then later drop the syllable for the correct word when they’re older? We’re making words longer, and adding a strange moniker, like the Japanese do with, “-san.”

Still, try talking to a baby without saying words that way. It can’t be done, unless you’re one of those disapproving and distant fathers from the 50’s sitting in his study with a glass full of Scotch. It’s like trying to tell a kid there’s no Santa.

On the subject of Santa, what’s up with that? We tell kids there’s a Santa, then we tell them there’s no Santa, when there’s really technically a Santa. If you’re going to be honest with your kids, tell them that Santa’s real, and that he died hundreds of years ago. Then get on a plane and take them to see Santa’s bones, then tell them that those probably aren’t his real bones, since they were stolen and re-distributed across Europe hundreds of years ago.

Top Ten Ways to Write a Top Ten List

With the New Year fast approaching, the internet is being littered with 2012 Top Ten Lists. These lists proclaim to recap the year’s events in a numeric format, because readers are considered too lazy to read complete paragraphs. By this point all blogs that still contain text instead of pictures of cats are 99% likely to be lists. You may be wondering at home, or at work, “Hey, how do I make a Top 10 blog?”
Here you go:
10. Bullshit: Make sure your list is complete bullshit. There should be no effort whatsoever to research anything you’re writing about, to go into any depth, or to get a second opinion. It should be about a topic you have little to no experience with, aside from a passing interest. Originality doesn’t count, so just copy someone else’s idea. Something in the news? Make it into a list. Really, just be random. Cats.
9. The Questionable Candidate: Shoehorn something into your list that shouldn’t belong. Remember, you’re trying to flesh out an assignment. Cats.
8. Hate:Your list should be inflammatory as possible. Like I said, research doesn’t matter. Infuriate the reader with your own ignorance. That’s real beauty of a Top Ten List. Every reader upon seeing the title will create their own rankings in their mind and compare it to yours. Your  list, therefore, should be as far off the mark as possible. This creates a flame war in the comments section. In interwebs, there is no bad publicity, only clicked links and web traffic. Cats.
7. Boobs. Images of boobs. Preferably, celebrity boobs. I can’t stress that enough. Any mention of celebrities or boobs will auto-generate traffic for your site. Do boobs not factor into your list? What kind of pussy list are you writing? Delete that shit and start over. Also: Cats.
14. Random: To be, “original,” pick a random number for your list. Obviously, you won’t always have ten exact choices for every list. You can shrink it down and stretch it out as needed. Also, I’m pretty sure David Letterman will sue your ass over copyright infringement if you do a Top Ten list. It’s his only shtick besides having wacky eyebrows and banging his employees. Still, no matter what size your list is, always include something that doesn’t belong .Cats.
17: Photos: Include random photos with captions the read like Stan Lee were writing for Maxim. ‘Nuff said! Besides, people hate reading. You’re better off with just a re-posted picture you stole off of Google.

 
5: ???: There is no number 5. Seriously, halfway through whatever your writing just give up and go on a tangent. Put two topics into one listing. Go off topic. I don’t care. Cats.
4: Failure: A failed attempt at humour. Nobody cares about 4th place. No one. There’s no medal for 4th place because they can’t find a metal cheap enough to reward your lack of accomplishment. Anything can be 4th. 10th is always for the least-likeable choice. 4th is for something people recognize for participating and still failing.
3: The Real #1: You’re getting pretty close to #1, so you have to think pretty hard about what you want here. You should include something controversial in this slot so people will be all like, WTF? Why wasn’t this #1? Include an explanation as to your decision that sounds like complete bullshit because it is. Remember: this isn’t an official ranking, it’s just bullshit. Piss people off.
2: Runner-Up: People recognize #2 instantly. Out of everything in the list, #2 is the closest to what the person would expect in the actual ranking. It almost makes up for your complete lack of accuracy for the rest of the post.
1. Toss-up: #1 is either the most obvious choice, or a joke choice. People will either nod their heads or agreement, or recoil from a slap in the face. Remember, #1 is there by your choice. This is your time to tell the reader that they wasted three minutes of their lives with your poor choices.

Fuck A Duck

Setting: “Fuck A Duck” Gameshow

Props: Microphones, a kiddie pool with water, a blindfold, duck.

Bill: “Hi, I’m Bill Tannerman and you’re here for another exciting episode of America’s favourite game show, ‘Fuck a Duck!’ Let’s meet our first contestant, Michelle! Michelle! Welcome to, ‘Fuck a Duck!’ Tell me, where are you from?”

Michelle: “I’m from Tennessee!”

Bill: “That’s unfortunate. Tell me, Michelle, have you ever fucked a duck before?”

Michelle: “No I haven’t, Bill!”

Bill: “Well do you know how the game is played?”

Michelle: “I sure do, Bill!”

Bill: “You’ve got to fuck a duck! Everyone’s a winner, Michelle! There’s no wrong way to play. Why don’t we meet the ducks? We’ve got five ducks here tonight. We’ve been feeding them bread crumbs and cigarette butts. I don’t know what ducks eat. Michelle, looking at these ducks, could you tell me which ones are boys, and which ones are girls?”

Michelle: “No I couldn’t, Bill!”

Bill: “Does it matter to you?”

Michelle: “Not really, Bill!”

Bill: “We’ve got a bisexual duck fucker here tonight, folks! She goes both ways! With ducks! Now do you know anything about duck genitals at all? Do you know what they’ve got going on down there?”

Michelle: “No I don’t, Bill!”

Bill: “Me neither! They seem really small, though, because I’ve never personally seen them and it’s sort of my job here. Are you worried about contracting duck S.T.D.s?”

Michelle: “Not really, Bill!”

Bill: “Are you worried about giving our ducks S.T.D.s? That would be bad. I mean, I’ve known these ducks for a while now, and I’d hate for anything to happen to them. I’ve come to think of them as a second family, as my real family no longer speaks to me. ‘Cause of the show. But life goes on. Michelle, are you ready to fuck some ducks?”

Michelle: “I sure am, Bill!”

Bill: “Wait! Before you go and fuck these ducks, I want to know, would you risk it all and go one better? Tonight, we want you to try our Super Secret Special Round, Blind Man’s Luck Duck Fuck! Michelle, let me tell you all about it! In Blind Man’s Luck Duck Fuck, you have to put on a blindfold and then step into our Wading Pool of Doom! Yes, there’s going to be five different ducks for you to fuck, but don’t fuck that loon! That’s right! There’s a loon in there, and if you fuck it by mistake, you’ll be immediately escorted from the facility and thrown off a bridge. How does that sound?”

Michelle: “That sounds exciting, Bill!”

Bill: “But wait, there’s more! If you fuck all five ducks, you can win a fabulous prize. Tatters, tell her what she can win!”

Tatters: “This 64 pack of Crayola Crayons featuring only the most racist colour known to man, Indian Red!”

Bill: “That’s right! 64 Indian Red Crayons. Think of it, you could draw the entire Trail of Tears with that. What do you think about that, Michelle?”

Michelle: “I think I’m ready to try Blind Man’s Luck Duck Fuck!”

Bill: “She’s going to do it! Folks, while she’s stripping down and lubing up, I want to talk to you about our #1 hit-rated show. Did you know that, ‘Fuck A Duck,’ is actually based on a much less popular Canadian game show call, ‘Fowl Play?’ The rules are the same, but instead of ducks, they used Canadian Geese. They had to be shut down after the second season because everyone caught, ‘Swimmers Itch.’ Can you imagine it, folks? Canada, it’s just like America, but without the balls. Alright! Let’s see how Michelle is doing! …She appears to have downed in four inches of water… That’s… unfortunate. Folks, we’re going to take a commercial break and see if we can revive Michelle. If not, we’ll see you next week, right here on, ‘Fuck a Duck!"'

I Threw it on the Ground

Every time there’s a new “i” device, some yahoos on youtube start making videos of themselves throwing it on the ground. Sometimes it’s to “test” them, other times it’s to test the people lined up to buy the device. Their allegiances are typically quite clear. If it’s an iPad, it’s an Android fan doing it. If it’s a Xbox, it’s a Playstation fanboy doing it. They’re wasting hundreds of dollars for hundreds of thousands of views to their channel. In a way, their investment makes sense.

The result of these videos is difficult to ascertain. It’s not quite comedy, and it’s not quite informative, or scientific. Obviously if you drop something hard enough, you’ll break it.

These people are essentially bullies kicking over sandcastles. In a way, though, it’s poetic. The lifespan of these devices is measures in months at the smallest. Apple comes out with a newer, better, more fashionable product in less than a year. The shelf-life of a computer system is three to five years. In the end, they’re forgotten and discarded. Breaking it out of the box is only expediting the process. The comments are always, “Why would you do this?” or a snarky comment about how the commentator is so cool for owning a rival brand.

The other strange youtube phenomenon is, “Unboxing,” where users take exceptionally long videos of themselves literally unboxing a new product. The experience is pornographic for some, but utterly unnecessary. Every must-have product has countless pictures, videos and descriptions from the horse’s mouth long before it ever makes it to the shelf. Unboxing is only the realization of the hype, even though it shouldn’t be. The unboxer is always dedicated to the product, and their commentary will always be positive. If they weren’t a fan of the product, they’d be doing a, “Will it blend?” video instead. I wondered who these kinds of videos appeal to? Obviously if you’re bursting at the seams with anticipation for a product, you’d be waiting in line like all the other drones to buy it. Why would you sit around at home or at the office watching someone unbox something you could easily go out and buy yourself? Have you ever watched someone open presents at a birthday party or wedding? It’s excruciating. At my sister’s wedding I almost passed out from sheer, maddening boredom watching her and her husband open up toaster ovens and china sets for hours, while family and friends commented on the products. “That’s got three settings!” It’s better to give than to receive, but watching someone else receive is like watching them eat a bowl of cereal. Yes, they’re enjoying it, because they’re suppose to. It’s only interesting if they flip out and throw a fit because they didn’t get what they wanted, like when Eric Cartman didn’t get the Red Megaman.

In a way, these two video themes are like snuff films and porn for boring people.

Yo-Ho, Ho.

If I had access to a time machine, I’d go around the past and bury empty treasure chests all over the place, with clues leading to the next chest. Then I’d spread rumours around and come back to the future to see how many people wasted their lives. Maybe I’d put real treasure in the last chest and use my time machine to make sure to dig it up minutes before the first person arrived with their shovel, so I could turn around and tell them, “You’re too late!”

How Do You Like Those Apples?

Halloween is the only time of year where you can be arrested for trying to give nutritious, fresh apples to children as treats. There’s nothing sketchier than someone giving out apples out on Halloween. You can expect to be ostracized from society after a thorough police investigation if you do. Everyone knows strangers put razors blades and syringes in apples to murder and mutilate our children. Except they don’t, and they’ve never. Every instance of a treat being poisoned or tampered with is a direct result of the parents doing it themselves. It’s an urban myth, which is easily debunked thanks to police files being linked online.

Apples were traditional treats as well, as they fit into the Fall harvest theme that use to be a part of the Halloween season. Remember apple bobbing? No one under twenty does, because of the myth, and also it wasn’t a great game to begin with. It’s like your trying to make eating an apple as unhygienic as possible by having everyone dip their faces and saliva into the same barrel. Plus you couldn’t play if you had face paint or a mask on.

If someone tried to give your kid a candy bar in his lunch, like at McDonalds, you’d start an online protest. If someone tries to give your kid an apple on Halloween, you’d burn their house to the ground like they were Freddy Krueger. How did that happen? Was it a candy company conspiracy?

Why are we only afraid of our children being poisoned by apples on Halloween? Isn’t that technically something that could happen any time, any where? How hard is it to stick a razor blade in an apple at the grocery store? You could even do it at an orchard, and no one would ever suspect until they bit into one.

Is that why whenever you see a kid’s meal with apples they’re always, always sliced? Are we that paranoid? A kid is as likely to choke to death on an apple slice as they are a whole apple. Plus you lose the core and the seeds that way, which you could have used to grow a new apple tree. Throwing an apple core on the ground isn’t garbage, it’s environmental. That apple core isn’t going to become a tree when it’s taken to the dump. If someone mushes it into the ground with their shoe, however, it’s an endlessly renewable food source. What the hell do the apple-slicing companies do with the cores anyway? Are they composting them, or something more sinister? Are they using them as a “food” source?

Trufs

Truth:

Hurricane Sandy proves a disturbing truth about the American political system. Millions are without power, airports across the nation are virtually shut down, billions are lost in business and billions more in damages, to say nothing about the potential loss of life, and the President’s main concern is keeping his job. That’s not a slam on Obama, that’s a statement about every sitting President in American history. Every politician’s job is to keep their job. When you’re President, that means shaking hands, standing in front of a podium, and spewing shit out of your mouth.

And people eat it up. Imagine if you had to re-interview for you job every four years, that you had to stand in front of people and answer the EXACT SAME questions they asked you four years ago. The, “What would you do?” and, “How are you going to…?” questions. You’re the fucking President. If you can’t decide after four years how a person is going to behave in office, and you need to ask them directly, you’re a fucking idiot. The media is wasting everyone’s time including yours by asking for words instead of letting actions speak for themselves. If any President ever told his opponent to fuck off because he was busy running the free world, he’d be voted out of office.

Seriously, Obama should bitch-slap Romney. Imagine the President of France demanding the POTUS debate him three times a week. He’d get bitch- slapped, then Bill Clinton would have sex with his wife, if he hasn’t already.

That a President has any time to spend on campaigning is pretty indicative that the Presidency is a sweet do-nothing job.

Ghost F**kers

Ke$ha claims she’s had sex with a ghost. Likely, the ghost has now contracted Chlamydia.

Stranger still, this is a common phenomenon, and answers one of the most obvious questions about ghosts, namely: if you could haunt the location of your choice, why do ghost end up haunting abandoned, ramshackle houses like spectral crackheads? Think about it: if you could be trapped somewhere, wouldn’t you rather haunt the group shower of the Dallas Cheerleaders than someplace that smells like cat pee and sadness?

Better still, if you could have consequence-free sex with anyone, why wouldn’t you, even if you now have a ghost penis? Why you would chose Ke$ha, I don’t know. Maybe you’re on your way up to Heaven and want one last chance to know what eternal suffering might feel like. Or maybe the body literally disintegrated from disease and shame, leaving only the ghost behind?

GOP: Go Pee

Fact: I have never taken a firm stance for, or against abortion, which makes me a more credible political candidate than anyone in the GOP. When confronted with such questions as, “Do you support abortion in instances of rape?” I know to knock over my podium and flee.

In the past weeks, representatives from the GOP have claimed that women have the biological ability to stop themselves from getting pregnant during a rape, and that pregnancy by rape is, “God’s will.”

Why would you touch, or go near those questions? Why would you answer them instead of getting up and socking the person in the jaw? Any question about rape or abortion is so obviously loaded that the person deserves a good punch. Of course, you can’t ignore those kinds of questions in real life. Oh wait, yes you can. Being a politician is all about avoiding the real issues. I’ve proven that I can do that by doing nothing and being indecisive.

Do you need a decision? Like right this minute? I’ll throw red tape at you, and run away.

October is Every Month

October is:

Fire Safety Month. Not only is it Fire Safety Month, but contained within Fire Safety Month is Fire Safety Week. It’s Inception.

Breast Cancer Awareness Month

Energy Awareness Month

Oktober Fest

The Month of the Holy Rosary

‘Jinx’ Month

It’s also the eighth month instead of the tenth on ancient calendars.

In summation: October is every month and that’s retarded. Special interest groups need to stop fucking around with their own ad campaigns. You have to pick one thing for October to be, and keep it that way. Nobody calls February, “Confederate Remembrance Month,” because it’s, “Black History Month.” Anyone trying to mess with that is automatically labelled a racist, and for good reason. Imagine the political backlash is a Governor tried to label February, “Cotton Candy Month.” Yes, cotton candy is delicious, but it’s, Black History Month. Everyone knows that. Plus February is a terrible month to enjoy cotton candy.

Same deal for October. Does it really need to be more than one thing? Breast Cancer Awareness is a serious issue affecting millions of people, but so is burning to death. Plus fire was here first. I’m pretty sure fire would win in an actual fight with cancer. In fact, fuck both of those issues. They’re both downers. Months shouldn’t be dedicated to depressing things, otherwise you’re spending at least 1/12 of your life feeling sad. I say October is now Tits and Explosions Month. It combines the appealing parts of Breast Cancer an Fire Safety in a way that’s fun for kids and adults at the same time.

Not a Belly Itcher

This is the best idea ever. Think of all the sympathy garnered by legitimate refs after scabs took their jobs. Now, replace those refs with legally blind refs. Don’t tell anyone in advance of the game. Just do it. Have blind refs.

Pros: My idea is awesome and hilarious.

Cons: Murder-riot.

Worst Villain Ever

Jake and the Neverland Pirates is a question wrapped inside of an enigma. The first thought that bursts into someone’s mind when they learn someone made a Disney kid’s show about a group of three pirate kids in Neverland and their adventures involving Captain Hook is, “Where’s Peter Pan?” Seriously, where the fuck is Peter Pan? There’s DVD that supposedly explains everything, and I’m about ready to drop $30 on it. Why are the kids hanging around Captain Hook, when they could be rolling with the Lost Boys? They’re also not a part of Captain Hook’s crew. They’re basically a rival gang of pirates, operating out a secret pirate lair. In the show, they find clues from Peter Pan about treasure on the island, and they have a bag of Tinkerbelle’s magical pixie dust, but neither character is to be seen. Its almost as if they didn’t have the rights to the characters, which is impossible considering its Disney, and they have Captain Hook.

Seriously, though, where is Peter Pan? Is the series set in the interim period shown in the movie Hook? Did Peter Pan fly away and forget how to get back? That’s one of the rules: Peter Pan can’t stay away from Neverland for too long or he’ll forget how to ever make it back home. Then how does he leave clues for the pirate kids?

GRAH!

I was also thinking about how great a villain Captain Hook is. He’s not a one-track character like in every other kid’s story. Captain Hook has a full itinerary that goes well and beyond killing Peter Pan. For instance, a day for him could involve:

1: Revenge against the crocodile that bit off his hand, ala Moby Dick.

2: Stealing magic from the island .

3: Stealing treasure from the island.

4: Finding a way home from Neverland.

5: Being a pirate.

6: For some reason: baseball.

Think of other villains, like Voldemort. What’s his plan?

Step One: Kill Harry Potter.

Step Two: ???

Step Three: Profit!

The 4-1-1 on 9/11

What’s the appropriate way to celebrate 9/11?

I’ve been thinking about it for years now and all I keep coming up with is quoting Team America: World Police.

Today it was 9/11 times 11. “I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT EQUALS!”

I did, however, think about going to Red Robin and getting two orders of Towering Onion Rings, those awkward dong-looking onion rings stacked on a rack:

So deliciously phallic.

Seriously, my choice of appetizer should not make me question my sexuality. Did they have to put the dipping sauces exactly where the balls should be? Usually the creamy sauce comes out the top. Anyway, imagine two of those and then you hit one of them with a ketchup bottle. Then, when everyone’s trying to eat that one, you hit the other one with a vinegar bottle. Tragic. And delicious. And penis-shaped.

Honestly, what else could you reasonably be expected to do? No one commemorates the sinking of the Lithuania, so why should the terrorist attacks of 9/11 be any different? If anyone can name a single person who died in the terrorist attacks, or the two ensuing wars, they’re either lying or related.

The media does a god-awful job of 9/11 coverage because its so obviously biased and pro-American. Whatever they say, there’s literally no lesson we can take way from the attacks. Over three thousand people died that day, and maybe two hundred of them were actual heroes trying to rescue people. 1/15th of everyone involved were heroes. That means 14/15 people are being falsely credited and idolized.

The story no one ever talks about is how rich the victims families must have gotten. There was immediately a telethon and charity that raised billions. That’s billions with a “b,” spread across 3,000 families. Bear in mind that the vast majority of the people killed in the attacks were already well-to-do. They were working in the World Trade Centre. Most of them were therefore likely involved with investment banking, etc. So the wealthy got wealthier. Bear in mind that if they were still standing, the towers would have been targeted by Occupy Wall Street protests. The twin towers might as well have been a giant statue of the old guy from Monopoly that people worked in.

Plus its been 11 years and they still haven’t rebuilt the towers. Duke Nukem Forever and Chinese Democracy have both been released in the meantime. Two exceedingly long and pointless wars were waged and “won” in the meantime, but they haven’t been able to rebuild the towers. The same government that decided to invade another country three days after the attack took years to decide on an appropriate design.

Everything about the attack and the American landscape that follows reeks of Looney Tunes. Treating it like a glitch in human history is the best way of going about it.

The World Doesn’t Make Sense

I was thinking absently about Sonic the Hedgehog today, which of course led me to think of Furries. Specifically, given the inherent worship of Sonic the Hedgehog in the Furry community, do any of them ever dress up in alternate Sonic costumes like Metal Sonic? I realized that no one would ever dress as Metal Sonic because being metal, he’s the antithesis of being, “Furry.” It at once blew my mind and likely spawned a hitherto unexplored fetish.

Furries, being loathed by every fringe community abound and by society at large, are a mysterious bunch. Why does Sonic the Hedgehog play such a pivotal role in all of their costume designs and, “art,” which is using the term loosely. Are they generally aroused by a pixelated rodent (or is it a marsupial?), or was the style the easiest to emulate for their nefarious purposes? Sonic is the only video game-based character who “enjoys” this sort of fandom. People don’t dress up like Mario and Luigi and give each other moustache rides. Does owning a Sega Genisis somehow mutate sexual development?

Seriously, with the vast resources out there for designing a cartoon animal, with all the movies, TV shows, comic books, mascots and so forth, why was Sonic chosen as the cornerstone?

Furries seemingly originated as a joke. The only reference to them outside the early years of the internet was in a Monty Python sketch about men dressing up like mice and trying to sneak cheese. Today, there’s Furry conventions.

People live their lives as Furries. They’ve completely dedicated themselves. How does that even happen? Who wakes up one day and decide they’re a slutty female cartoon cat trapped in a man’s body? How would a psychologist even begin to unravel that mess? There’s no amount of pills you can throw at that and make it go away.

Fish Jesus

One of my goldfish was lying dead on the bottom of the bowl this afternoon, but when I went to scoop it up to flush it, I noticed its gills were still moving. So I cleaned out the bowl and put it back in to see how it would fare. That evening, it was swimming around as if nothing had ever been amiss. This leads me to believe I might be Fish Jesus.

Being Fish Jesus is like being Regular Jesus, but with fish. For instance, instead of saying, “Turn the other cheek,” Fish Jesus would say, “Turn the other gill.” Additionally, instead of the miracle of the fishes, it would be the miracle of the humans. Instead of walking on water, he swims on land. Instead of turning water into wine, he turn wine into water. Instead of saying, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do,” he says, “Glub, glub, glub.”