Friday, June 22, 2007

Well, there you have it.

There are certain questions the world will never be able to answer. How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll pop? Who left the cake out in the rain? Why does Carrot Top have a career (and who allowed him to get juiced up and lift - I mean have you seen his crazy ass lately)? How many shotgun blasts would it take to get rid of all the stupid in the world? And now we can add one more.


If the "Survival of the Fittest" theory had any truth to it, and believe me, for a while there, in certain ecosystems and among certain species, I thought it might have, then what I am about to tell you would not make any sense. And since what I am about to tell you is true, prepare to dismiss many other ideas/theorems/treatises/etc. you previously held to be true.

Microsoft, makers of that meh-p3 player, the Zune, have finally "caught wind" of the Tattooed Walrus and his efforts to ingratiate himself with these completely retarded publicity stunts. In a perfect world, and we all know what a Utopian wonderland that would be, MS would have already filed suit against this crime against humanity and hauled his badly-inked up "guns" into court under some kind of wacky trademark infringement nonsense.

Now, I just LOVE LOVE LOVE hearing about corporations completely bending the laws of our country to protect things like intellectual property, wishes, hopes, magic, and whatever else they think they own. Normally it makes me retch, because it speaks volumes about what we actually value around here. HOWEVER, in this case, I would have probably laughed so hard that both hemispheres of my ass would have fallen clear off, and I would have been fine with that.

But they're flying him out to HQ to meet the Zune team, walk around, be treated like some kind of asshat celebrity, and generally take credit and be praised for one of the worst goddamned decisions ever.

THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. Sending the wrong message, over and over again. Let's make this guy famous for doing nothing. He was uncreative enough to take someone else's boring artwork (term used liberally) and get it on his body. Corporate "artwork" no less. He might as well have gotten the Golden Arches on his fatty fatty fat fat somewhere, so he could enjoy the spoils of his efforts when McD's offers him all the trans fat and hydrogenated oils he can spill down his gullet.

I don't get it. I really don't. I suppose I should just learn to laugh and say "oh well, that's silly" and walk away. BUT I CAN'T. Instead, as it always has, it makes me angry. I can't help it. My brain doesn't work any other way. I'm going to go look at that picture of the cool baby stroller again and try to forget about this whole thing. I haven't even had my coffee yet.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Coolest Daddy EVAR.

I saw this on Boing Boing, but Thingamababy (WTF?) is doing the detective work to get to the totally awesome bottom of this mystery. Who loves a little baby so much that they not only take it to Star Wars Celebration IV, but then do this to its little carriage-car thingy that it goes around in? The COOLEST DAD EVAR, that's who!

I had an AT-AT as a kid, and believe me, I played with that thing in every possible way, creating scenarios that could have fueled at least six more rad Star Wars movies. To have cruised in a sweet vehicle like this, while I crapped in my pants, well, I doubt my life could have even improved from that point. I guess I owe my parents a debt of gratitude, as I didn't peak in life at 14 months.

So apparently, they're trying to deduce the identity of the guy who did the work, and if I know the IntarrTub3s, we're going to have an answer shortly.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Sweet, creamy Christ.

It's as though the new barometer for human achievement in our world is not success, or talent, or any other measurable positive attribute, but rather the lengths one will go to in order to socially whore oneself out. You do remember our fat jackass friend with the Zune tattoo, right? Well, as any of us who have tattoos know, it's really addictive. You get one, you love it, you look at it from every possible angle, and then immediately after it heals, you start thinking about what else you can get...

(thanks, endgaget)

Now, most of the time, your next tattoo surpasses the first one in a lot of different categories, because now that you've gotten the thing started, you're less hesitant to say, go bigger with the next one, or spend a little more to get something insane. Generally, and I am speaking in the most nebulous terms, of course, your next thought isn't "how can I make myself look like even more of an douchebag?", no matter HOW drunk you may be at that point. I'm pretty sure about this, because a lot of my friends have tattoos as well, and I'm always super jealous when they get new ones, because they always seem to go bigger and better.

I really can't remember a time when I looked at something one of them got and thought, "You dumb bastard. You're going to hate that in like, two years". But were I friends with this brainless piece of human excrement, I would, at this point, promptly declare that:

a) we are no longer friends, in any sense of the word,

b) that he is probably the dumbest person I know

and likely

c) at some point in the future, when our alien overlords finally exert their unmitigated wrath on our pissant of a planet, I will not only welcome the change and thank them, but immediately point them in his general direction, so that their extermination of the species can start with the absolute biggest asshole I know.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Holy crap

This is really quite simple. These are the coolest drums ever, and I need them.

Lioux, let's make this happen.

Monday, June 18, 2007

Stupid things I have seen on cars.

I always see stupid things and very rarely have the presence of mind to actually snap a picture of them. Well, lately I have seen a variety of stupid things on cars. And I don't even need to see who's driving them, because based on what I see from my perspective in back, if I saw the driver, I have a feeling my head would boil and I'd have to go all Mad Max and freak out on the road and generally cause havoc.

So here we go. Let the parade of morons begin. Sorry for the crappy image quality.

Exhibit A.

A bumper sticker that says "AMERICA #1 - THANK GOD". Yes, let's all thank God that he had the good sense to make our country the absolute best of all the other countries. Because we all know every other country sucks and is made up of huge losers who are totally lame. Who decided we were number one? I kind of feel like we've slipped in the ranking, but that's because I'm what's more commonly known as a realist, also known as commie hippie.

I don't know, I just think that maybe we should be a little modest here. We haven't EXACTLY been lighting the world on fire with our number one-ness lately. There's a whole lot of people who are kind of pissed at us. I think I may have an idea as to why, but I'll just go with the bottom line here - they're totally jealous. Case closed.

Exhibit B.

This bumper sticker eschews the chest-pounding, blood-pumping, generally exciting (and somewhat relieved) tone of the first, for a simpler statement, one that really only speaks on the individual, but gives us a rare glimpse into the psyche of such a complex individual. It reads, "I *heart* Purple". Now, I don't know about you, but anyone who loves a color enough to actually seek out, purchase, affix, and proudly display a singular love of said color should, in my opinion, be locked away where the crazy voices in their head won't do anyone any harm.

Sure, it seems innocuous enough, but let's not dance around this one. This person is DANGEROUS. What do you think would happen if someone were to badmouth purple within earshot? Man, I don't even want to think about that scenario. But it does beg the question, with such a fervent love for the color, why not get a matching paint job for that ride?

Exhibit C. The coup de grace for the whole competition.

This guy figures, eh, the hell with stickers. That's sissy stuff. I'm showing the world EXACTLY what I think of myself, and I'm doing it with a thin piece of metal that may have been made by a prison inmate who undoubtedly spent more than a few wistful moments thinking about the sweet piece whose hands this would ultimately wind up in. Yes, this guy wants us to know that he is, in fact, such a virile, relevant, desirable candidate for sexual relations that the ladies would be absolutely bonkers to even consider passing him up.

He definitely knows how to treat a woman, too, because anyone with that much moxie must have some really insightful thoughts on things like abortion rights, women's tenuous place in a misogynistic governmental structure and work force, the unending subjugation of women in various parts of the world, and the state of baby girls in China, to name a few. Yes, snatch him up, girls, this STUD won't be around for long.

And NOTHING screams desire like an Aurora, after all.