It's a blog!

34: The Revolution Solution

2011-02-28T17:19:00.000-08:00

S'going on my severe cases of blog-orrhoea?

Me? I've spent these last *ahem*four or so months giving back to the world. From fixing cleft palates in Rwanda to financing micro-loans for small businesses in Micronesia, not to mention my work with the Global Food Bank.
My last four months have been every bit as philantropic as they have been personally rewarding. Yep, doing some really important work. Work so important in fact, that no one could possibly be angry with me with the amount of time it's been since my last blog post. And that's the lie I'm sticking with.

The other one involved ghosts.

Alright readers, well if you haven't been living in a cave somewhere you've probably heard of the current political turmoil is countries like Tunisia, Egypt and most recently Libya and North Korea. To be frank, the people are revolting. The stew of corrupt government, decades of opression and poor living conditions has finally boiled over and the people have taken to the street in protest. They march to remind the government of its place in society, that a governing body answers to its people and not to other way around.

Man, I bet those Libyan Kinkos are getting paid.

The match that lit this powderkeg was Tunisia, they were the toppled domino that would unravel the sweater of corruption that strung across much of the Middle East like an insidious web. Opening a can of worms that would riggle themselves into a storm on the horizon. Tunisia was just the opening salvo, the taste of things to come, the foot in the door.

These are also probably things that Tunisia is/are

My point being these dictators are all wimps. "Boo hoo, my country is all up-in-arms I better get my military to knock them around a bit until they settle down". Pathetic. Had they any real leadership skills, these revolutions would've never have happened.

Pinheads.

I mean anyone can be cruel enough to order the mass executions of any dissenting party members, but it takes a special kind of cruelty, to the point where your people will not utter your name for they believe it will bring about the death of your crops, that's the kind of cruelty that builds stable long-term dictatorships.
.

Beetleführer....Beetleführer....Beetführ-OHMYGODDIDYOUHEARTHAT

And since it would seem no one has any idea on how to run a dictatorship anymore, I will be holding a series of classes at the Learning Annex Fridays from 6:30 to 9:30 in the multi-purpose room across the hall from Beginner's Moroccan Cuisine. Be sure to arrive bright and early with a three ringed binder, paper, pens and your personal Amazonian guard.

Avaliable where ever fine dictatorial supplies sold.

But for those of you who may be hesitant in attending the class, I present the first lecture on-line free of charge.

Polishing the Iron Fist:How to maintain your public image while opressing the public.

Hello Class, my name is Professor Gary.

Though I may seem light hearted in using my first name as the follower to my status designator as contrary to the usual use of the more proper surname, let me assure you now that I am not.

This will be your T.A. Mr. Scruffaduff. He is currently working toward a Master's in American Literature with a minor in Terror, and he will be in charge of all your tutorial sections as well as grading the weekly assignments. Say hello.

NO EXTENSIONS.

Well enough stalling; onto the lecture for today.

Polishing the Iron Fist: Mainting your public image while oppressing the public

It seems in this increasingly techonological age, it's becoming more and more difficult to execute a group of political dissidents by firing squad without everyone and their mother finding out. As a result dictators have had to resort to more and more secretive measures.Which in turn causes their people grow suspicious of their government when they aren't being told what's happening, which leads to more dissidence which leads to the need for more mass executions and...well it's a cruel cycle.

Now there are multiple ways to break this cycle. The best, I feel, is distraction as it turns the tables on technology. Sure the fact that information can literally zoom around the globe in micro-seconds can be a major bane to those who may want to keep their body counts quiet.

3,000? 4,000? Only my hairdresser knows for sure.

33: Aliens........from Outer Space?!?!?!

2010-10-01T12:53:00.000-07:00

So bad news my astroblogical signs,

I still have yet to finish deciphering the contents of my log from what I was out at sea. Mainly on account of I don't want to. But like the two dozen or so Rwandan refugees currently being held in my basement, I will get around to dealing with it. Eventually.

Until then they'll just have to enjoy the all day Puppy Parlour and Candytorium

In the meanwhile something else has sparked my intrigue. Last Sunday, the New York Times ran an article about the UN selecting Malaysian astrophysicist and current director of the United Nations Office for Outer Space Affairs (UNOOSA) , Mazlan Othman, as "first-contact ambassador". Basically in the event of extra-terrestrial contact, she would be the person to directly communicate with the aliens and essentially act ambassador; by proxy representing the entire human race. As opposed to the current system where the aliens communicate solely by speaking directly into the brain of this man.

I don't need mind reading to tell what the cat's thinking.

Now as of the Sunday, both the UN and Mazlan Othman have commented on the topic, both denying it and declaring it be nothing more than "nonsense".

Now readers, this got me thinking. It is really a good idea to selecting our space ambassador on such trivial criteria like "knowledge of space" and "diplomatic experience"? The answer is, of course, no. Before I explain to you my rationale, first you should get a sense of where Earth and humanity fit in the grand scheme of the Universe. We are hicks. Hicks in the backmost of backwater star systems. Sure, we have attained a level of sentience and intelligence that has allowed us to build our modern civilizations. But despite our technological level, we are still backward enough that we are still not above killing one another for disagreeing with us or allowing half the global population to live in abject poverty. We are space-Alabama.

In space no one can hear you squeal like a pig, boy!

So with these facts in mind, let us ponder why would any extra-terrestrial want to visit Earth? Why would any advanced civilization attempt to reach someplace as primitive as this? Well as history tells us, one can probably assume correctly that they're only here to conquer/enslave us, or siphon all our resources leaving our planet little more than a dead husk.

Citation

Now picture this:

Commander Darthrax of Murderlonians lands his flag-ship on the lawn of the White House.

He exits said ship followed by a phalanx of elite Murderlonian shocktroopers marching in perfect unison. In a thundering voice he demands to speak to the leader of this planetoid.The crowd stands in silent awe, no one quite sure what to do or say, when all of a sudden a sound is heard, a low buzz growing faintly louder. It's coming from...above? The crowd peers skyward to see a UH-60 Blackhawk descending. White House officials clear people away to make a landing zone.

Amidst the ruckus, Commander Darthrax bellows demanding to speak to the "Champion" of Earth waving his blaster rifle threateningly at the crowds.

The doors to the helicopter slide open, several heavily armed soldiers pour out forming taking defensive positions, the a lone figure exits. She the only thing standing between the Earth we know today and the future subjugated Murderlonian slave world

And she looks like my grandmother.

Would you like some Werther's Original, Mr. Darthax?

My point is we can't be sending in someone as matronly adorable as Mrs. Othman into our interstellar diplomacy. Ain't right. What we need is someone who can command the subtle blend of respect, comradeship and fear that will be essential when meeting with new extra-terrestrial species. Someone who can tell it like it is, and isn't afraid to stand-up to giant tentacled monstrosities in negotiations. Someone who isn't afraid to some put a couple of bullets into some silicon-based bitch when he steps out of line. I am of course talking about myself.

So to any UN officials that read this blog, here are just a few of the reasons, I would make an ideal "first-contact" ambassador (Or should I say Badassador)

Knowledge of several tentacle based martial arts
Doesn't take anyone's shit (Also the reason, no longer allowed at dog park)
Extensive knowledge of Microsoft Word.
Own space-ship. As in it's a ship, and it takes up space.(Not a ship)
Have been broadcasting "Mamma Mia" on a loop into deep space for past 9 years. Probably the reason they're here.
Have seen "The Adventures of Pluto Nash", understand the socio-dynamic complexities of alien-to-alien interaction, why Eddie Murphy no longer has a career.
Aware that due to VAST differences in evolutionary pathways and biology, that "gettin' it with hot alien chicks" impossible. Still going to try.

I whole-heartedly await my letter of acceptance in the mail.

Conversations with Blog

2010-09-13T13:00:00.000-07:00

INT- CAVERNOUS HALL

The sound of footsteps on a cement floor echoes as a character comes into view. The ground is covered in a waist-high fog. Lighting is dim.

GARY

Where..Where am I?

DISEMBODIED VOICE

Don't you recognize it?

GARY

Who's there? Stay back. I know kung-fu.

DISEMBODIED VOICE

No, no you don't.

GARY

Touche, disembodied voice. Touche. So where is this? Where we at?

DISEMBODIED VOICE

This is your blog.

GARY

What? But there's nothing here, just cobwebs and this picture of Mick Jagger.

Yeesh, time definitely doesn't not make the heart grown fonder.

DISEMBODIED VOICE

Exactly. You left it here, Gary. Like this, to waste away. While you were out and about gallivanting with your "responsibilities" and "social life".

GARY

But I didn't mean to, I was onl-

DISEMBODIED VOICE

How long has it been? Since you opened MS Paint? Since you badly cropped out Justin Bieber's face and superimposed it onto the body of a chihuahua?

GARY

Actually, I was just abou-

DISEMBODIED VOICE

No excuses.

GARY

So why exactly do you care about when I update my blog? It only has like 9 readers and even they don't particularly care.

DISEMBODIED VOICE

Because Gary...

What a twist!

.. I am your blog! You abandoned me.

GARY

Oh com'on, how was I supposed to know my blog was sentient.

DISEMBODIED VOICE

Sentience or not, you knew exactly what you were doing! Now gaze at your folly! Let it burn into your eye sockets, so that you may bear witness to it for all time!

GARY

Dude, chill I'll update eventually.

DISEMBODIED VOICE

I will not "chill". It's been 2 months since your last update. 2 months. Not to mention you left on a cliffhanger, and that's just a dick move.

GARY

Fine, if I update will you leave me alone, and teleport me out of where ever the hell I am?

DISEMBODIED VOICE

That is acceptable.

GARY

This counts as a update. No take-backsies.

DISEMBODIED VOICE

Wai-But you-But I. Oh, Goddamn it. Fine.

GARY

That's right, I promise I'll get back to updating regularly.....

...when hell freezes over!

GARY disappears in a flash of light

DISEMBODIED VOICE

I really hate that guy.

In the meantime, here's a bad pun.

31: Keep me off the cart, I'm not yet dead.

2010-06-21T21:37:00.000-07:00

"The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated."

-Mark Twain, American humorist/Mustachiologist

What's the happy happs, my eu-blogies?

Well as you might have already guessed , I am not dead; despite what my posting schedule might have you believe.

It lies for the attention. It's sad, really.

Well being both ambulatory and pulse-having, I decided I would finally get around to updating the old girl. So I am. Right now in fact. So what was I doing in my three week absence? Well that's a long story, but judging by the fact that you're on this blog, your clearly have enough time, so here I go:

My story begins in the most modest of places; upside down in an oil-drum slowly sinking into the abyssal depths of the Pacific Ocean. How I got there, I'm still not entirely sure, but I guess that over the course of thirty (3-muthafucking-0) posts of spewing rancid hate-bile at any person/place/thing that happened to cross my mind, I may have made a few enemies.

Potential Enemies List: Aa-Ab

Fortunately however, my assailers had neglected to gag me and using what I've learned from several hours of whale song CDs I was able to convince the beasts to save me, and in exchange I have keep the fine folks at Warner Bros from release any more Free Willy movies, which are apparently really offensive to them for some reason.

Please help me, small white children. For being a whale I am clearly too stupid to survive on my own.

Anyways, one helicopter ride later, I was at long last home. Too tired for any of my usual chicanery, I decided I just stay in for the night and catch a movie. It was than however that I realized the only movie I own is "Chitty-chitty Bang Bang" and that's only because it was all I could grab before I was banned for life from the local Blockbuster.

Oh com'on, like I'm the first person to ever illegally burn a DVD.

Also not quite up for the herculean task of going to a movie theater, my options were going up in smoke (Not unlike the neighborhood Blockbuster the next day). I figured I may have to just settle for whatever trash was playing on the television broadcast receiving monitor. I ended up settling on watching some documentary I stumbled across about the mentally disabled in modern society.Sad stuff.

As luck would have it, it was actually a commercial break that would turn out to be the solution to my problems.

The commercial, although poorly designed and terribly implemented (Is that really what they think a webpage looks like?) did intrigue me. Up 'til now I'd never heard of this "movie pirating" but the concept was clearly something that warranted further investigation. An unlimited amount of free movies whenever I want? Yes, please.

So I researched it further on the internet, and amongst all the porn and cat videos, I was able to discern something called "The Pirate's Bay". From what the legends told, it was a magical place where a man could acquire anything he wished provided he had enough seeds to trade for them. Or something along those lines.

It was at that point I decided that I would set out for this "Pirate's Bay" and return with a treasure trove's worth of cinematic masterpieces.

Three different movies. The same five jokes.

And after that it's, well, blurry. The next clear memory I have after that is waking up in a hospital bed, yesterday. I don't know what happened, but it I do have some clue. When I left the hospital, I was given everything I was carrying when I was admitted, a harpoon, several teeth in a small cinch-string pouch and a spiral bound notebook. The writing in the notebook is clearly my own, and from what I can make out it seems to be a journal, unfortunately, the book is heavily water damaged, so I'll be needing some time to transcribe the book.

Well I'm off to spend the next several hours with a powerful magnifying glass and pair of tweezers.Then once I'm done jerking it, I might get around to deciphering that book. HEY-OOOOOOOOOOOOOO Well that's all for now readers, I'm afraid you'll need to wait until ~~tomorrow next week next month~~ 2016 for the thrilling conclusion!

30: Oil Spill? More like Oil Thrill!

2010-06-02T13:53:00.000-07:00

Wassup, my man-made ecoblogical disasters?

So unless you're blind, deaf and dumb, you've likely heard about the Deep Horizon oil-rig explosion in the Gulf of Mexico and the ensuing spillage. Well the spill recently hit Day 40 and with BP's recent "Top Kill" initiative to cap the burst well a failure there seems to be no certain end to the oily menace.

This is where I come in. Being a self-appointed media-ologist that I am, I'm here to help BP out of this sticky situation, this sticky oily dead animals floating in the tide-y situation.Why am I doing this? Because while there are at least a dozen groups looking out for the spillees, the wildlife and the fishermen. Who's looking out for the multi-billion dollar oil companies, the spillers. No one, that's who.

Look at what you did media, now who's the jerk?

Step 1: Divert Attention

Sure, the oil spill is currently dominating the headlines but the rule of thumb for these things is out of sight, out of mind. The only reason people care about the oil spill is because it's all they're seeing and hearing about it. Also all the dead things.

Flipper? Is that you pa-AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

So instead of trying (and constantly failing) to divert the oil flow, instead why not divert their attention. From the latest figures it seems the clean-up cost for the spill has reached 940 million dollars. Damn, that's a lotta zeros. That kind of money can buy you one hell of a distraction. Now thing you should keep in mind is to keep the distraction both something as flashy as it is newsworthy. Maybe Ahmadinejad suddenly finds several crates of weapons grade plutonium on his doorstep.Maybe Justin Bieber wakes up to find he's missing his left ear. The point is what ever you choose to do , it has to whip the news networks into a mouth foaming frenzy. Might I suggest you finally get around to firing the layabouts known as the British Royal Family.

Into the sun.

"The sun will never set on the British Empire, indeed."

"I swear to god Charlie, if you make that joke one more time, one more time..."

Step 2:Mystification

No, unfortunately this step has nothing to do with wizards or computer puzzle games from the mid-90s. So I'll assume that since you're reading this far step one has failed. Damn. I guess, that gaggle of loud whiny sissies just can't go a day without complaining "devastated economy" and "cataclysmic ecological destruction." Boo hoo.

So onto step 2, mystification is simply obscuring the facts, so all those pesky environmental groups and governments can't figure out what's really going on. Obviously you can't just flat out lie to them, but you bending the truth a little can't hurt.

People. Hurt people is what I meant.

Change your units to metric. Sure having over 20,000,000 gallons of oil spilled into the gulf seems like a bad thing. But really that's only 0.075 gigalitres. Look at how small the number is.

Replace the high-tech underwater live-feed of the spill with a black and white 8mm camera in a ziploc bag on a rope, that you pull up every few hours to upload to footage to You-tube.

Begin sending out press releases on the back of McDonalds hamburger wrappers written in pencil and ketchup.

See? It's just that easy.

Step 3: Fixing the Burst Well

So it's come to this. Now fixing the burst well isn't going to be easy, it's all the freaking way at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico for starters.The well head is also far too deep to send any divers, so all repair work has to be done entirely remotely by robotic drones. Finally even if everything goes with a hitch, there's still only a 60-70% chance it will even work. Man this is gonna be hard.

Now as for "solutions" you've come up with so far, the "Junk Shot" "Top Kill" and "Top Hat", you should probably fire the person in charge of naming things over there.

We are not changing the company's name to "Everything Hitler", Phil.

Now your main problems with these "solutions" is that, well, they aren't very impressive. Let's fire garbage and mud into the well head and hope it clogs the spill or let's try to contain the oil with a large dome. Logically they're sound, but visually they're meh. For example, I spent the last 5 minutes watching this live feed of the effort to cap the well. Holy donkey tits, that's boring.

This is why the American public are so angry, they watch a small robotic arm spend 2 hours trying to maneuver a small hook onto a small ring and they think that nothing's getting done. What you need to do now is something big, something exciting that shows the American people you're doing everything in your power to help end the spill. Like fill two supertankers with Dawn dish washing detergent and crash them into one another at full speed.

Step 4: Spinning the Truth

Ok, worst case scenario time. You can't stop the oil leak, and the U.S. government is demanding you implode the well, thus losing you billions in untapped oil reserves. Solution: simply convince everyone that the oil spill isn't as bad as they think. Here a few lines you might consider using:

"Oil? What oil? Why's that's just our newest product BP's (patent pending) Ocean Blackener."

"Oil spill? Why I was too busy enjoying my gasoline fueled car and all the other things made after the Industrial Revolution to notice that little nusiance."

"While we were down there we figure we might as well get rid of all those pesky fish for you"

"But we thought you Cajuns loved blackened catfish."

You should probably say it in a British accent to soften the blow. Ooh, or better yet get Bono to do it.

Well there you have it British Petroleum, my guaranteed* fool-proof 4 step plan on how to get yourself back on track in your effort to seal off the well head. I don't need any thanks. I do this only for the self satisfaction of helping out others. But if you say had 20,000 shares of BP laying around that you weren't using, I could take it off your hands. Just sayin'.

Make new foes, but keep the old, for one is silver, the other gold.

2010-05-26T17:01:00.000-07:00

Happy middle of the week, my chili cheese blogs!

Some pretty interesting happenings today, my readers. So the day began like any other, I was down in the lab try to hybridize a cactus with a bald eagle in a half-hearted feat of mad science driven mostly by boredom.

*Yawn* Throw the switch, Igor. Or not. Whatever.

I had just finished synthesizing the necessary restriction endonuclease enzymes and was prepping the centrifuge (What you didn't think mad science involved science?), when I decided that I would take a quick break and cool off with a refreshing glass of iced tea. While I was enjoying my cool beverage, I heard something outside, a raucous, or possibly a commotion. It was coming from across the street. I could hear a truck backing up, the beep-beep-beep over the sound of people loudly talking. I rushed upstairs to the lookout tower and surveyed the scene. I smiled, It was just as I'd thought: Movers.

Those Nazis at the zoning board never had a chance.

But before I tell this story I should give you a little background information. You see before this new family, moved into the neighborhood, the house across the street used to belong to a Dr. Armageddon, my former arch-nemesis.

Pictured: Dr. Harold M. Armageddon P.H.D., dermatologist.

A formidable foe, he was always foiling my schemes and I, his. I terrorize the neighborhood with my doom ray, he calls the police. I unleash the virulent Pathogen X into the water supply, he calls the police. I steal the world's supply of silicon, he calls the police. Though to be fair, I dished it out, as well as I got it. Like the time he was "planting azaleas" in his "garden". Obviously some plot to release mind-controlling spores into the air, so I burnt down his front porch and salted the earth. Well for reasons unspecified he moved out his home last month...

Seven or eight swarms of reasons unspecified.

...and since then his house just sits there, empty. A constant reminder of better days. Since then it seems that I haven't been able to get any of my usual mad sciencing done.You see reader, a nemesis isn't just someone who thwarts your plans or blows up your underwater base of operations. No, a nemesis is someone who drives you to be your best, that irritating grain of sand, whose constant annoyance results in a glimmering pearl. The grain of sand that I lost last month...

But now these people, they can be my new nemeses! First and foremost, I'll need to do some intel on these people, find out exactly who I'll be pitting my wits against. Fortunately was able to reach them before any of my other neighbors could, who probably would've turned them against me immediately with their crazy stories of what I did yesterday.

Ok, this is at most only 40% my fault.

So I invited them over for a welcoming dinner. Over a delicious meal of macaroni and cheese I was able to find out that my new neighbors refer to themselves collectively as "The Wilkins". At first I surmised they might have been some form of hive mind, but after failing to find any of the interconnecting tubes commonly associated with hive minds I abandoned this theory.

Other facts I have learned about this family unit are that it consists of 3 primary members. Frank, the father works as a paralegal downtown, he enjoys bass fishing. The mother, Diane, actively collects cat figurines, she works as a as a school nurse at the local elementary school which is also attended by the daughter, Little Suzie Wilkins, a 3rd grader who like fuzzy stickers and "Shrek". They hail from Arizona, suggesting they have a high tolerance for heat and boredom.

They must possess formidable survival training to live in such a desolate wasteland.

Unfortunately I was unable to ascertain any information on other vital subjects, those Wilkins are far more cunning than they appear.Here is a short transcript of what happened that dinner.

Gary: So, Wilkins Family.How are you enjoying life in the neighborhood

Diane: Well we just got here, but it's certainly different from Arizona, I'll say that much

*Amicable laughter had by all*

Gary: So now that we have gotten acquainted, let us play a party game.

Frank: Well that sounds...alright. Do you have pictiona-

Gary: We will be playing fill-in-the-blanks. A game of my own creation. Franklin Wilkins, (blank) is my secret irrational phobia. Fill in the blank.

Frank: Uh, what?

Gary: We will skip your turn. Diane Wilkins, (blank) can be considered my greatest and most exploitable weakness. Fill in the blank.

Diane: *uncomfortable chucking* Well I'd have to say- OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT THING?!?

Suzie: Mommy, I'm scared.

Gary: Do not be afraid Wilkins Family, that is Mr. Scruffaduff, he is only trained to attack is you provoke him. He considers blinking provocation.

(Twenty seconds later)

Gary: It was a joke. I am joking.You are now free to leave. If you enjoy having your hands I would not touch anything on your way out. If you enjoy the company of your legs, I would not walk on the lawn.

They left as quickly as they arrived. The Wilkins: A riddle wrapped in a mystery wrapped in an enigma. Luckily thanks in part to Mr. Scruffaduff, I was able to get several blood, hair, skin, and bits of teeth samples from each family member; which should help me fill in the blanks from dinner. Wilkins Family, I may have just met you, but I already know, you will be my greatest arch-enemies yet. The only question now is who'll make the first move?

Me. It will be me.

I'm not sure how yet, but this will feature heavily in my next scheme

BTSUCCWDPRS #1: Jiffy Pop

2010-05-25T11:22:00.000-07:00

Happy days! my Bloguna beaches,

Now today, I'd like to introduce a new segment on this blog I'm calling "Behind-the-scenes undercover consumer watchdog protection report...squad";a little segment where I help you find out which companies are secretly screwing you out of your hard earned rupiah (the majority of this blog's readership consists of a small village in Indonesia) with shoddy second-rate products that aren't fit for an anjing!

My readers and I at last year's blogiversary picnic. See if you can find me.

Product:Jiffy Pop

For those of you unaware, Jiffy Pop is brand of instant popcorn that's unique in that it's cooked on a stove-top, rather than a microwave. Still despite Jiffy Pop's quaint image of old-fashioned stove-top popcorn, it should be recognized as what it is: a veritable titan of the popcorn market. But has the success they've enjoyed blinded the makers of Jiffy Pop? Has it left them greedy, making promises they know they can't keep? Is Jiffy Pop a delicious corn based treat or is it just a hot buttery foil-bag of lies? The answers to these questions are "yes, yes and hot buttery foil-bag of lies."

This should be the face you're making. If not, make this face.

While Jiffy Pop brand popping corn, does both contain corn and pop during its cooking, sadly it fails to satisfy it's third requirement, and being someone who frequently fails to satisfy things, I know what I'm talking about.

Well Janet, maybe I could get you "hot", if you weren't such a frigid bitch

I am, of course, talking about the jiffy in Jiffy pop. By the placement of "Jiffy" as the first word in the product name, one can assume that the company is promising that popcorn will be cooked in a jiffy. Now speaking in terms of quantum physics, a "jiffy" constitutes a very small period of time. How small you ask? Really small.Really really really small. So small that you don't even. A jiffy is another word for a unit of Planck time a.k.a. the smallest amount that can be observed in the physical universe. Damn. You sure set the bar high don't you Jiffy Pop.

Wait, go back a couple seconds.

Huh, that's odd.5-8 minutes popping time? Well that's certainly more than a jiffy. But then again you have to take into account that this commercial is from the 80s; surely in the 30 or so years it's been since there, the fine folks of Jiffy Pop have innovated/improved their corn based technologies.

Maybe if we invert the kernel matrix, it won't reject the husk algorithm

So I dug around on Youtube until I could find another more recent Jiffy Pop video.

Damn, still not even close. Well, I figure there's one last thing we could try; even if it is a tad far-fetched. Now I suppose if we were to cook the Jiffy pop using something other than the heating element in a stove, we may get different results. As I mentioned earlier, a Jiffy is a unit of time primarily used in quantum physics,so it would only be appropriate to pop the popcorn in the highest concentration of physics on the planet: The Large Hadron Collider.

So I set off taking the private jet to Austria, where I disembarked took the private train to Zürich, before finally taking the private car to Geneva (God, I'm lonely). I arrived in Geneva in the late afternoon, was at the CERN centre by nightfall. Under the cover of night, I made my way underground though a broken maintenance entrance. I jimmied open a hatch on one of the collision tunnel and placed the Jiffy Pop inside.

How was I able to walk around so freely inside of an international multi-billion dollar scientific construct with such little resistance you ask? Well while particle physicists are adept at a great deal of things, brazillian knife fightning isn't one them.

Awful stance, terrible form and really, a plastic knife handle?

Well I started up the proton beam on the highest setting they had, counted out a jiffy on my watch and headed back to the collision tunnel, taking care not to step on the several unconscious physicists as I made my way .What I found within the tunnel was...unexpected.

Damn it, why couldn't I have accidentally made Flubber.

I'm not sure what it is really. From sight alone, it appears to be sphere of luminous gas about 3 inches across, though this seems to be just one of the forms it can take, it rapidly shifts in between the four states of matter, solid one second and ionized plasma the next. It emits a harsh blinking light that changes hue and frequency every few minutes are so.My attempts to gather further information have been thwarted by what seems to be an EM-field emitted by the sphere, any electronic equipment shorts out when placed within 4 feet of the anomaly. It also has the fairly disturbing ability to disintegrate any matter that placed inside of it. I am fairly certain it isn't Jiffy Pop.

Not entirely sure what to do with it, I carefully resealed the entity inside of a Jiffy Pop container and sent it back to Jiffy Pop's parent company, Con Agra, with a note about the product being faulty. Hopefully they'll send me my money back, but I'd be fine with some vouchers too.

Well that ends my first ever segment of "Behind-the-scenes undercover consumer watchdog protection report...squad" As for Jiffy Pop, despite it been fully suitable as popcorn, it can't cash the cheque it's makers write and if there's one thing I hate it's cheques. So, I'm afraid I'll have to give them my lowest (and highest) score ever.

2/5 Snuffaluffagusses: Not up to snuff.

27:Bashing Trailer Trash

2010-05-17T15:37:00.000-07:00

Happy Monday to you all, my gublog work camps!

Now readers, as you know, I'm not an unnecessarily angry person; I'm pretty mellowed out. If anyone cares to disagree with that statement, just leave your name and address in the comment section and I'll be over shortly with a sock full of batteries.

I'm going to need a bigger sock.

But there comes a time when even my patience wears thin. So what am I so angry about I have to bitch it out for all the internet to hear? Ke$ha (the dollar sign makes it Cla$$y) and her song "Tik Tok". I have had to listen to this train-wreck abortion (band name up for grabs) no fewer than 20 times in the last 2 weeks.

"Well this hardly qualifies as a problem", you might say, cracking open another puppy skull and slurping down the contents like a giant oyster. But you'd be wrong. Of the two dozen or so times I have been subjected to this musical malady, I was given no choice in the matter. It seems no matter where I go I hear this goddamn song. I wake up in the morning (decidedly not feeling like P-Diddy) and it's playing on the radio station I set my alarm to. I pop by the corner store to pick up some groceries and it's playing over the loudspeakers. I get home and decide to catch an episode of The Simpsons.

So naturally I did what I always do in times of crisis. Something bat-shit insane. But that didn't exactly pan-out. Needless to say halfway up a radio broadcasting antennae with a hacksaw between your teeth, isn't the easiest situation to talk your way out out.

The gorilla suit didn't help either.

Now I've dealt with my fair share of ear-worms, catchy little ditties with a cool beat and no real meaning. They come and go, in one ear and out the other, as it were. But this is different. This particular song has been played so many times, that its starting to sink into my brain. I...I..actually know the words to "Tik Tok".

Ever since I came to the realization, trying to jab the lyrics out of my brain with a Q-tip, but no dice. I occasionally get up to head-butt the wall in front of me, but for the love of god I can't shake these words free. Right now I'm just wondering how many tiny jars of white-out I'd need to huff to blank out these memories.

Not so great in coffee though.

While I bulk order crates of liquid paper online, let's in the mean time discuss the lyrics to Tik Tok, because like a raging case of the Ebola, if you can't cure it, the next best thing is to spread it to a bunch of people you don't like. So the music starts in and Ke$ha hits us with this little nugget.

Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy
(Hey, what up girl?)
Grab my glasses, I'm out the door, I'm gonna hit this city
(Lets go)
Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack
'Cause when I leave for the night, I ain't coming back

While I'm sure, Ke$ha has everything in the world with Hip-hop and R&B idol Sean "Puffy" Combs, it's really the second-to-last line that bothers me. Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack. Now that can't possibly be good for your teeth. Especially since cheap whiskeys are generally loaded with tooth-rottingly high amounts of sugar.So as a favour to her, I've prepared this handy chart on the benefits of brushing your teeth with Crest over a bottle of Jack.

Also, it's only been what? Three lines? Since you woke up and you're already hitting the bottle? There's a fine line between social drinking and alcoholism, you threw up on it about a mile back. Then she ends the verse with 'Cause when I leave for the night, I ain't coming back. Sadly, this proves to be an empty promise. Although we hope that she won't, she will be coming back, not unlike the Herp.

I'm talking pedicure on our toes, toes
Trying on all our clothes, clothes
Boys blowing up our phones, phones
Drop-topping, playing our favorite CDs
Pulling up to the parties
Trying to get a little bit tipsy

Now I could go after the vain ideals she sets out in this verse, but that would be a little hypocritical what with my daily white-rhino placenta face masks, and youth elixirs made from tears of a mother bear that has seen her cubs captured and sold to the circus.

So instead I'll go after the fact that she repeats herself at the end of every line. Did she already use up all 50 words she knows? Did she stroke out sometime between the first and second verses? What happened? PS: That's probably not so much the boys as a faulty cellphone battery.

Now for what I consider to be the crown jewel of stupidity:

And now, the dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger
But we kick em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger

Now let's be honest Ke$ha, you just wanted a rhyme for swagger, didn't you. So you loaded up Rhymezone.com typed in "swagger" and just picked the first word in the list. How do I know this? I've seen Mick Jagger. You can too, all it takes is a simple Google Image search, my dear.

Hello ladies...

This is the man you'd want to meet when you're out at the club with your friends. Look at that picture. No don't turn away! LOOK AT IT! Next time in between applying the 3rd and 4th auto-tune filters, you may want to check if your lyrics actually make any goddamn sense. On a side note, there is a disturbingly high occurrence of people googling whether or not Mick Jagger is Ke$ha's father.

I'm talking about everybody getting crunk, crunk
Boys tryin' to touch my junk, junk
Gonna smack him if he getting too drunk, drunk

Now, now, we go until they kick us out, out
Or the police shut us down, down
Police shut us down, down
Po-po shut us

Finally she winds it down with some more aneurysm induced stuttering and and some meaningful thought provoking prose, such as excessive drinking and boys trying to touch her junk.

Pictured: Ke$ha's Junk

So yeah then then police come and with the end of the party comes the end of this Homeric Epic, but not before they shove the chorus down our ears a fifth time. Presumably her next song will involve being in a Wendy's at 3AM, loudly complaining about "those fucking pigs" while screeching at her boyfriend through her cell phone to pick her up.

Well there you go readers, what some could consider a "review" of the musical stylings of Ke$ha. Now while this is the 2nd musical artist I've ripped on, this is by no means a sign of things to come; that this blog is slowly becoming a Perez Hilton knock-off. This is just something that has been really annoying me for the last little while. So, with my rage-bladder finally emptied, this is me signing off. So until next time, here's another picture of Mick Jagger

She's not heavy she's my mother OR Yo momma so respected, she....

2010-05-08T23:45:00.000-07:00

How it's hanging, my blog flumes,

Now for those of you still unaware, this Sunday is a very special day for Mothers the world over. That's right! It's the birthday of Wu-Tang Clan member and associate Ghostface Killah. Which I believe people celebrate by driving into the suburbs and terrorizing the upper-middle class whities or UMCW. It's also Mother's Day.

Not to be confused with Mothra's Day. That's something completely different.

Now whether or not you believe that Mother's Day is just another Hallmark Holiday, you can't deny the face that without her and by extension her uterus, you wouldn't be here. So I figure that deserves at least day of recognition. I mean you get a party every year just for bursting out of her.

No comment.

Haunting mental images aside, it also can't be denied that a mother plays an important role in her children's lives. A mother is a nurturer, a teacher, and a role model, she helps impart onto us our morals and values. . She also occasionally tries to drive us bat-shit insane and has more than once had us wonder what a bus ticket to Mexico would set us back. Still, although we may have our issues with her, in the long run she's done us more good than bad, right?

Also I feel it worth mentioning that while most of us celebrate Mother's Day, a much smaller percentage of that can agree on what a mother actually is. A mom may a mom in the traditional sense, or your mom may just be the person who gave you half your genome (surrogate), she might be one who raised you (adoptive) or she might total bitch (raised by wolves). Some of us even have two moms (like Heather) or three moms (like Heather in the sequel)

So I don't think it would hurt you in anyway to do your darndest in paying her back this Mother's Day with some good old fashioned recognition and on that note I'd like to present...

How not to suck at Mother's Day
So it's Mother's Day, whatchu gonna do about it? Now for those of you who didn't just immediately take off out the door, praying that the Gas-n-Go sells flowers, I'm here to help you have the best mother's day ever, with a hearty bowl of unwarranted criticism of every decision you've made thus far. Ahh, just like mom used to make.

Gift: Mother's Day coupons
Quality: *
And you wonder why you're the least favorite. For those of you who don't know what a Mother's Day Coupon is, it's last minute gift where you jot down various menial chores on a sheet of loose-leaf, which your mother can cash it at any time. It is also a sham of a travesty of an
abomination. It's a bad gift is what I'm saying.You're essentially giving them a voucher for some you should probably already be doing. Just for a second imagine if the situation were reversed and your mom gave you a gift certificate for "cooking dinner tonight" for your birthday. Yeah stings doesn't it? The only thing Mother's Day coupons are good for are seeing if you can get your mom to punch you in the face.

Better Gift: Actual coupons
Well you set the bar preeetty low there skipper, so pretty much anything would be a better gift. Here are three reasons right off the bat, why coupons beat gift coupons every time.

Store won't ever be "too busy with important stuff" to honour them
Regular coupons comes every week, as opposed to once a year
2-for-1 on Fro-Yo. Dude, TWO FOR ONE.

Gift: Flowers and a nice card
Quality:**
While flowers and a card are miles ahead of the last "gift" idea. They are also fairly low ranking in terms of gift quality. Technically sufficient, but boring, the flowers with a card are the missionary position of Mother's Day gifts. Not to mention any connotations that flowers might be carrying. Think for a second, when else do you give someone flowers? Valentine's days and anniversaries come for sure, but also hopsital visits and funerals. So what exactly are your intentions there, mister. Are you an Oedipus Rex or a Norman Bates?

Better Gift: Candy
Candy: A terrific stripper's name and even better gift. Often accompanied by the two schmucks above, Candy is clearly the alpha-dog in that pack, the Alec of the Baldwin brothers if you will. Also it's pretty darn hard to screw up. With just a single box of chocolates, you have like 20 chances that she'll find at least one flavour she likes. But what if your mom isn't a fan of sweets or worse, she has the diabeeetus. Well first of all, Mr. Brimley please get off my blog, you're no longer welcome here after the last incident. Secondly if that should be the case we simply take the central "sampler" idea of the box of chocolates and apply it another food group. Smoked meat basket, anyone?

Gift: Breakfast in bed
Quality: ***
Ah, Breakfast in bed, an classic stand-by. A trifle unoriginal, but it does showthat you're willing to put in work to make your mom happy, and that's a nice sentiment. Having to wake up in the morning extra early, grabbing stuff out of the cupboards and fridge, while trying your hardest not to make a peep, so mom could sleep in.You might've burnt the french toast a bit, or forgotten to de-pulp the orange juice, but mom never seemed to mind.

Better Gift: Brunch
Like the unicorn, Brunch is a combination of two lesser entities to create a whole greater than the sum of it's parts. Brunch, it sits atop the meal hierarchy ruling it's subjects with smug air of self-satisfaction. Where as breakfast has bacon and eggs, Brunch will not sully it's hand with anything less than lobster and champagne. Now the more astute of you will have noticed, I don't mention anything about Brunch being in bed. That is of course because a meal like Brunch can only be enjoyed in surroundings of equal or greater fancitude.A hot air balloon above the Himalayas, a bathtub filled with Perrier, atop the Queen of England's shoulders as she gives you a piggyback ride. These are the places where people brunch.

Gift: Something she actually wants.
Quality:****
So you actually pay attention to your mother, you've learned about her hobbies, her interest, her secret addiction to tic-tacs and you're sure you've picked out the absolute perfect gift.You've scoured every shop in the city. You've combed every auction on the Electronic Bay. You've done terrible, horrible, unforgivable things to get what you needed. Quite frankly you've gone above and beyond anything that can be expected from any sane person. So you win right? Perfect gift? Top prize? High score?

Better Gift: That same thing, but like, more expensive.
No. None of those things. It doesn't matter what you've found, how perfect it is or how long you spent searching. There will always be a something better that you could've got if you'd dropped more cash . She loves Charles Dickens, so you got her a first edition David Copperfield? With a little more dough, you could have gotten the original manuscript. She enjoys Monet's works, so you got her a print of The Artist's house at Argenteuil, 1873? For a few more ducats, you could've hired professional art thief, Pierre Lestraud, to steal the original. You found the doll from her childhood that she lost, when her family fled occupied Poland? Well, I found the wedding ring your grandmother had to pawn to afford the boat tickets for a new life in America, and it can be yours for a not unreasonable price.

Gift: Some piece of crap you made when you were 5
Quality:*****
As we reach the end of our list, we also approach the pinnacle of Mother's Day gifts. The piece of crap you made when you were 5. Give this to your mom and step back. The moment she is presented with the gift, she will take a trip down memory lane so powerful it will warp the immediate time-space fabric. You will be forced to spend the next several hours relieving the first 10 years of your life through home movies and photo albums, the background noise an unending loop of coos and awws. Still you'll sit through it, a smile plastered on your face, happy because she's happy.

Better Gift: Sabotage
Now as we discussed, you really can't top this gift. What you can do however is sabotage the gifts of your other siblings, making yours seem even better by compairison. Now if you've been reading my posts, you should probably already have several ideas on how to accomplish this. All I can say is go, where your heart leads you. Also, snakes are fairly easy to smuggle out of the reptile house at the zoo.

Well readers, this ends yet another one of my posts, and having already written so many many words. I'll leave the ending of this post in the very capable hands of my colleage, Mr. Laurence Tureaud. Later.

Entrada en el blog veinticinco!!!!

2010-05-06T16:15:00.000-07:00

¡Hola, mes bloguantes!¿Dónde está el burro de Lopez?

Now for those of you who don't speak the German, I was just welcoming you, my readers, to a very special Cinco de Mayo post! But really what is Cinco de Mayo about? According to the experts at Wikipedia, Cinco de Mayo commemorates the Battle of Puebla, where the Mexican Army was able to defeat the invading French Army. So every year I faithfully recreate this historic event by downing 7 or 8 bottles of the cheapest tequila food stamps can buy and engaging the local wine shoppe in war games.

They never see me coming, until it's too late.

But this year I'm not quite up for it. I guess I'm not as young as I used to be. Maybe I'll just settle for 3 or 4 bottles and sit on my patio hurling obscenities at anyone wearing a beret. But until then I guess I'll just keep on blogging. So to the Mexican people(Who still haven't visited my blog), I dedicate this post to you.

How to sneak across the border

Sneaking across the border is no easy task, it is both physically and mentally exhausting and there is always some risk that you will not survive the trek.

Crossing by foot is the simplest method, but also by far the most treacherous. You've got to worry about exposure to the elements, hypothermia, heat stroke, dehydration and drowning. Yep, you can die from dehydration and drowning, that's pretty fucked up. Not to mention the border patrol and militia nuts, who won't hesitate to shoot you on sight. You may be able to enlist help from a Coyote, but they're usually dicks.

Look at this asshole; he thinks he's better than you.

Next up in the land column we have automobile. Ah, nothing beats traveling the countryside in a fine automobile, windows down, the warm breeze racing past your head catching your hair, scented ever so delicately with the aroma of daisy and honey suckle. In front of you nothing but open green pastures and a road that winds all the way to the horizon. Anyways, this is where you'll be sitting.

Before you get settled in, you should probably wait for the 4 other dudes you're bunking with.

Although, it's not really accurate to call it "sitting" when it's more a laying completely motionless in a confined space with limited light, air and "blinking room". I only chose to use the word sitting because there is no word in the English language that encapsulates such an action.Furthermore, it's fitting tha- no wait, dying. That's the word I was looking for, dying.

TO BE CONTINUED

Internet woes and a picture of Al Gore.

2010-04-29T21:46:00.000-07:00

Hazzah! my ecoblogical footprints,

It has been one hell of a week I can tell you that. An aneurysm inducing, ritalin snorting, sleepless hell. But now I'm back and after my customary 72 hour post-exam collapse I am back and ready to to blog your fucking brains out. So dear readers, prepare yourself for my....

20th BLOGIVERSARY SPECTACULARRRRR

Wait, it's not here? Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap. It should be here. Umm, try refreshing. F5. F5. F5. Oh wait, I remember what happened. I spent two goddamn hours blogging my heart out and then Blogger decided it was going to eat it. Then my modem decides to crap out for 6 hours. I am so pissed off at the Internet right now that no amount of terrifying porn or adorable cat videos that it can produce will be enough cool my unending fury.

So angry infact that I plan to write several strongly worded letter-bombs to the man incharge of it.

Oh there's going to be gore, all right.

So yeah, I've been furiously writing for what's approaching Hour 4 now and my letter-bomb is slowly turning into a manifesto-bomb(Sweet band name up for grabs) also I'm running dangerously low on red ink and blasting caps. I need a new thesaurus too, my current one is seriously lacking in synonyms for assface. So I'm headed to my local office/mining supplies store. For now, it's best to keep things short incase my modem decides to crap out again. So sorry readers for disappointing you, they'll no 20th blogiversary post today. Also Christmas may or may not be cancelled.

Oh dear god, my brain is melting! Someone get a bucket!

2010-04-19T16:53:00.000-07:00

I'm still in exam mode, so nothing of merit today, my carry-on bloggage. Although there is one thing to I'd like to mention. The other day I woke up from yet another one of my Ritalin induced black-outs and I found myself sitting in front of the computer. Odd, since I was studying in the basement at the time.Upon closer inspection there were several copies MSPaint open. This is what I found.

Maybe, I should lay off the Ritalin for a little while.

Nope, still not it.

2010-04-12T21:26:00.000-07:00

Well my monoblogues,

It's no secret that I've been having a severe case of writer's block or rather writer's blog-ck in terms of what to do for my twentieth blogiversary spectacularrrrrrrr (roll the r's) . But it would seem that now God's cruel irony has struck once again. Sure during the few fleeting days I have off over Easter, my mind's a total blank. But now that reports and deadlines and exams are popping up like a whack-a-mole game from Hell, I can't stop thinking of ideas for posts. Twelve. That's how many goddamn ideas I have come up with today. So now as I desperately try to cram the contents of an entire semester into my head; the back of my brain refuses help out at hand and is instead hard at work coming up with hilarious, awful, hilariously awful and awfully hilarious jokes for my blog.

Like this one.

Well brain, this shit needs to stop now. It's crunch time, and so help me god if you crap out me; I will find the nearest streetlight and headbutt it until it falls over. I will drive down to the nearest nursing home and lick every person with Alzheimer's I can find. I will shove an uncapped sharpie in each nostril and smell them dry. I will watch the entire first season of Jersey Shore, every single episode. Back. To. Back. In short I will fuck you up in ways that you can't even imagine (and being a brain that's pretty much all you do).

Oh god, I can feel my brain cell count is decreas- dropp- going not big.

So yeah, the message I'm trying to send it "I won't be posting any substantial for the next while or so", but the moment I do come back, you can expect my blogiversary post. No foolins and totally for seriouses. On a slightly less depressing note (assuming you're sad at my lack of posting, though you could be dancing with glee and I wouldn't know) if you google "Mr.Scruffaduff", this blog is the second search result. The first search result is something else I wrote for a student newspaper, The Peak. So I guess this makes it official, I now have an internet monopoly on the name Mr. Scruffaduff. Awesome.

Merchandising rights still avaliable

Note: The Lambshank redemption picture was not actually done by me. I had the idea, but now the technical knowhow. The man with the chops (Get it? Chops? Like lamb cho-Not in the face!) to orchestrate that jpeg, is none other than bhundair, aka Max Violence aka that abrasive white guy aka my friend Blair Mclaughlan. He used some kind of photostore/pictureshop program to do it. It may not have been MSPaint, but it seemed to do the trick.

Dilly-Dally Delays

2010-04-09T09:19:00.000-07:00

Bad News! my bloganberry pies,

I'm afraid I'll be delaying my twentieth blogiversary mega-post. You see, this morning I was in the kitchen making a Spanish omelet for breakfast, and long story short, the entire bottom level of my house is now flooded with deadly, deadly radiation. So, until the Geiger counter reading drops below "skin melting" I can't go downstairs. Downstairs is also unfortunately where I keep my blogging supplies.

Pictured: My blogging supplies.

So yeah, now I'll just have to wait out the radiation. In the meanwhile, I'll tell you about the strange happenings that have been happening strangely as of late. Yesterday morning when I stepped outside to pick up my daily newspaper, I noticed that several of my trash cans had been tipped over and their contents strewn across the sidewalk. At first I figured it was just the work of some drunken teenagers, but when I went to check my trashcan security system, both the acid tank was still full. Odd. Naturally, the my next suspect were raccoons, but then I remembered that all the raccoons (as well as mailmen, girl scouts and Jehovah's witnesses) seem to have disappeared ever since I started letting Mr. Scruffaduff out at night.

Who's a good boy? You are! Whoooo's a good boy? You are!

Further puzzled, I went to check my security tapes, and it was there I witnessed the shocking truth. It seems last night, an unknown entity attacked my home. It caused the trees to shake wildly, wind chimes to jangle ceaselessly and made anything not nailed down take off like a bird. It was terrifying, moving in all directions like some sort of invisible storm. It was this "force" that had knocked over my trashcans. But what was it? After many an hour in the conservatory pondering the events, piecing together the bits of information and I have discovered what happened that fateful night. Ladies and gentlemen. I have a poltergeist.

Wait, that's what a conservatory is? Damn, I wanted the other one.

Fortunately, I happen to have a fair amount of experience in dealing with the supernatural (I'm a quarter wood nymph) ; and by reading this post you can too!

Dealing with a Poltergeist

Step 1: For minor ghosts and/or spirits: Prepare a ghost "scrub" by mixing 4 parts Holy Water to 1 part Shinto Purification Salts and 1 part Baking Soda in a large bucket. Pour half of the mixture into supersoaker and get down to hunting yourself some ghosts. After chasing ghosts off premises, apply the leftover scrub to all the inner surfaces of your home with a paint roller or pressure washer. This should stop any more ghosts from getting in. But you will need to reapply every 2-3 months. For a more permanent solution, try insulating the walls of your home with wadded-up pages of the bible (I suggest the book of Matthew, all that begatting doesn't make for very good reading)

Step 2: If the scrub has failed to chase away the ghosts , instead try tricking it into leaving by placing a trail of marshmallows leading outside of the house. Dead or alive, most creatures will be unable to resist the mallowy allure of the delicious air-puffed treat. You'll need to make a trail far enough away from your home so that the they won't be able to find their way back. The local fairgrounds is an ideal place to end up, the noise and colourful lights should disorient the spirit long enough for you to sneak away and hopefully never see them again.

Also works great with kids and the elderly. Just sayin'

Step 3: So it didn't go for the marshmallows or the fair, eh? Well I guess it's time to bring out the moderately-sized guns.Your goal now should be to make your domicile so unappealing enough to the ghost that it would rather run screaming back to the depth of Hell then stay there a second longer. To do this you'll need to do some research on what kind of person the ghost was when he/she was alive. Was your ghost a classical music aficionado in life? Crank up the Nickelback. Did they used to be a fervent vegan before they bit the dust? Try blaring some Nickelback. Maybe they used t-Slap a copy of "Dark Horse" into your CD player and tear off the volume knob.

Make up your own comment for this one.

Step 4: Wow really? It's still there? Damn, usually the 'back always works. Well maybe it's time to try the old time-tested solution of just ignoring it until it goes away. But you should know that ignoring an angry spirit is harder than it sounds and it already sounds pretty damn hard. But with these helpful tips, you'll barely know it's there.

-Go Amish and ditch all your electronic appliances.
-Glue plastic foam to all your doors and windows to muffle all the slamming noises.
-Paint your walls a shade of red and you'll hardly notice that they're bleeding.
-Pump up the death metal and you won't be able to tell if all the screaming is the music, or the tortured soul stuck on plane of existence.
-Join the World of Warcraft.

Last Resort: Ok, at this point, you're going to need to do epic battle with the ghost/ghosts. Although, I warn you now that this should only be used as a last resort. If worse comes to worse you are totally better off moving and selling the house to some goth couple, who are into that kind of thing. The reason I hesitate the bring this up is because ghosts are you may have already figured out, are very hard to kill and can easily fuck you up.

They can throw furniture and appliances at you.They can straight up possess you, make you rotate your head 360° and vomit all over the place. They can lovingly hold you as you sit at a pottery wheel sculpting an urn. In short, there's a reason ghosts are in horror movies and bunnies aren't.

Good horror movies. Good horror movies is what I meant.

However, that is not to say that are completely invulnerable. After reading all the pseudo-scientific articles I could find about ghosts on the interweb, I've learned that a ghost is essentially pure energy with a consciousness bound to it. Therefore the best way to destroy them, at least temporarily, is to disrupt their energy matrix binding one to the other, using rapidly-alternating voltic frequencies. In layman's terms: Damned if I know, just tase the basterds.

That's right officer, you "disrupt" that "ghost"!

Depending on the ghost, you may need more juice than the average taser can offer. In which case you may want to up switch up to an industrial sized cattle prod or for the really stubborn cases, one of these. One more piece of advice, while locked in epic combat with the ghost, don't let it fly through you; it doesn't hurt you but it feels all weird and violate-y. Well readers if you've followed by instruction to a T (Or at least a Q). Your home should now be spook free, or you're dead. Either way that ghost shouldn't be bothering you anymore. Unless it's bullying you in the afterlife, in which case go tell God on him/her.

Next up: Dealing with a Coultergeist

Holy shit it's my twent- Just kidding this is post 19 and a half.

2010-04-05T00:31:00.000-07:00

Happy Easter! My Creatures from the Black Blogoon,

Well as you may have assertained from the title of post, this is not my twentieth post, but rather nineteenth and half. Now you numerologists out there, might contest "But Gary, you can't have half a blog post, having half a blog post is like having half a hole, it doesn't matter if it's half the size, it's still a whole hole". Well while that is a good point; have you ever considered the following? Shut it, you nerds.

..and that's how I won my 16th debate competition

So what's in the news? Easter? Yawn. We all know the Easter deal, Bunnies, Eggs, the Ressurection of our Lord and Savoir Jesus Christ etc. etc. On a slightly less dull note, I did happen across this neat article on the internet. Clickitclickitclickitclickit. Now for those of you too lazy to move the mouse/trackpad/touchscreen over to those blue words and apply a very small amount of pressure (I'll bet your mothers are very proud). Here's the gist of it, yesterday a Chinese coal-ship, the Shen Neng 1, crashed into the Douglas Shoals, a section of the Great Barrier Reef, and began to leak oil into the surrounding waters.

Before After

Seriously crew of the Shen Neng 1 Seriously? I mean this doesn't even sound like news article, this sounds more like a goddamn episode of Captain Planet. I mean it's not like the Great Barrier Reef is that hard to miss. It's not just a barrier reef it's the Great Barrier Reef. "Now I may not the biggest fan of the enviro-movement", he said, throwing another seal-pup onto the fire. But this is just truly awful.

Quite frankly this never should have happened.One wonders aren't there safeguards in place to keep this sort of thing from happening? I mean it's against the law for me throw out a can of paint, but these guys can just float whatever they want whereever they want? Not to mention the ship's cargo of 65,000 tonnes of coal.Yep, clean burning zero-emissions coal. Well, readers that's all for today and as my computer clock tells me, today's is actually tomorrow. Well I'm going to spend my Easter Monday, the way I always do. Hoarding enough Cadbury Creme Eggs to last me until next Easter. So until next time don't forget Panda suicide bombers totally exist. No foolin'.

Nineteenth post? More like FINE-teenth post! amirite?

2010-04-01T21:23:00.000-07:00

How's it hanging my blogaddocios.

If you're wondering about the totally radical changing of my blog's background colour, well today is April Fools Day and sites all over the internet are engaged in all sorts of tomfoolery, or for the more sophisticated thomasfoolery. Just check out the XKCD website or Youtube. Well as for the colour change, that's pretty much all I can do as a April Fools Day joke with my current level of computer training.. I'm not exactly what you'd call a computer wizard.

I'll never let you get your hands on the Philosopher's stone, Viraldemort!

Maybe by next April Fools Day I'll have something better planned, but I wouldn't hold your breath. As for the today's post. A friend of mine is going in for a job interview at some accounting firm, and I've decided to dedicate this post to him and and all the other schlubs looking for a job in today's market.

So you need a job?
With the recent economic downturn, it would seem that all the money in our economy has mysteriously disappeared and reappeared in China's economy. Now I'm not saying that the reason for this is because the Chinese have invented some sort of money teleporter, but I'm also not not saying it. As a result us we North Americans now need our jobs more than ever so we can afford to buy more crap from........China. But unfortunately, we've already given most of our jobs away to........China. Crap.

您不可能大概讀此。

As a result the job market has been whipped up into a frenzy, and with more applicants than jobs, only the best, brightest and dating the boss' daughter-est of us will prevail and chances are if you're reading my blog you are none of these. However, fortunately for you reader, I have several handy tips that will give you the edge you need against the competition.

Tip #1: Dress sharp. It is a well known fact that your first impression is generally the most lasting in your employers eyes. So dress sharp. No, literally. Wear something that is really really pointy. Consider hotgluing several cacti to your business attire and/or carrying a nail gun with you at all times. Hardwired in the human psyche is fear of sharp and pointy things. By wearing things that are sharp and/or pointy, you are showing your superiors that you are both fearless and to be feared. Also that you could probably kill them with a hug.

Don't laugh, this guy could easily buy and sell your ass.

Tip #2: All's fair in love and interviews. Deliberately sabotage your opponent by any means necessary. Here I've provided several examples. But really your only limit here, is your imagination!

-Secretly add several drops of Epacac into their water bottle.

-Replace their powerpoint presenation with a slide show labelled "Venereal Diseases of the World". -

-Set their car on fire

-Tuck a Klan hood into the back pocket of their pants as they walk into their interview.

-While they're in the washroom, fill their briefcase with baby cobras.

- Pay an actor to play their drug addicted son.

-Shoot them with the nail-gun from Tip #1

Tip #3: Lie. It amazes me how many people forget about this little gem. Your competition says he has worked in the field for 5 years? Sprinkle a little lying and BAM! You've been doing whatever he's being doing for over a decade. They coach an inner city basket ball team? You coached a inner city wheelchair basketball team. They went to Harvard? You went to Super Harvard.With the power of lying you can accomplish pretty much anything; and it's not like they're going to check personally. Even if they do decide to check your credentials, they'll probably pass that job off to their secretary or other low waged minion.Then all you have to do slip a little cash their way, and you're made in the shade.

Well Dolores, I'd have to say my favorite musicians are the ,ahem, "Jackson 5"

Tip #4:Don't bother with the interview. Instead just show up at work one day and start doing the job. Not only will this show your employers, that you are both assertive and a self-starter, it keep them from having to waste their time interviewing people. Also thanks to the cold, mechanical nature of the workplace, most people will not notice the person working besides them is someone completely different. If someone does notice however, and asks who you are, simply answer "Really?" and look at them like it's fairly obvious question and that they are an idiot. Alternatively, you could respond with a "Oh so a (black person/woman/jew) can't be a (the title of the job)?!?! What are we, living in the middle ages?" Then just storm off angrily, and spend the rest of the day hiding in a bathroom stall.

Well reader, that ends yet another one of my post. Don't you touch that address bar though, because sometime in the next couple of days, I'll be having my 20th blog-iverssary blog-stravaganza blog-tacularrrrrr(You gotta roll the r's). As for now, I'm going to get back building my doom sphere, or as you probably know it, the moon. So until next time, don't forget you only have 40 more soul-crushing years of labour until you can retire as a broken, defeated, feeble old man :)

Eighteenth Post. The word eight is kinda spelt funny. Does that count as a joke?

2010-03-31T23:26:00.000-07:00

Holla! my fellow bloggards,
So what's been gooooooing on? Its been a while since my last post, but I assure you that during in my time off I wasn't loafing around, but rather doing very important things; like saving the rain forest! To burn later. After I'm done with all the regular forest. But in all seriousness, my lack of time as of late is because I have a buttload of exams coming up, and also I got braces yesterday and consequently have been spending 45 minutes out of every hour swearing at my goddamn, motherfucking, I-WILL-MURDER-YOU teeth. Oh solid food, how I miss you....

My temporarily revised food pyramid.

But I realize I'm starting to sound like one of those whiny losers who posts on their blog complaining about their life and personal problems for all the internet to see and mock. Man, ff I could meet any of these people, the one question that I'd like to ask them is "Why?" If they're looking for attention, then they might as well be shoving their posts into a bottle and throwing them out to sea; which would probably result in the same number of views as them posting their problems on some two-bit no-name page in the jaw-dropping enormity that is the internet.

Day 12: Noone understands me. Noone knows what it's like to be a 13 year old suburban white teenager.

Are they looking for sympathy or help? You'd get more sympathy in a klan hood otuside the Apollo theatre. The internet is not some sort of hug powered sympathy machine that dispenses hot cocoa and gently reassurances. The internet is a savage place, an unfeeling place, where the only currency accepted is hurt feelings. Where comments like "fag","photoshopped" and "no, ur mom" are scrawled on every wall, ceiling and floor. Where haggard-looking "Nigerian royalty" roam the streets, scouring the bins of personal inforation for anything usable, begging passerbys for help with banking transactions whilst giant sickly-coloured neon billboards scream at you, promising "MAXMUM MEAT STICK MALE ENHANCEMENT, ENGORE YOUR SELF WITH NEW PRODUUCT, OVER INFINITY INCHES GUARANTED!!!!11"

Quite frankly, this is not the place you go for psychiatric help, this is where you go when you die if you were a bad person in life.

But just for the helluvit, I decided to imagine what would happen if the Internet were actually a psychiatric professional. Well, not immediately, first I imagined what it would be like if I swapped brains with a cat (We both died during the operation). But eventually when I did get to the internet thing, here's how it went.

Dr. Internet

Gary: H-hello, Doctor. It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard great things about you and your work.

Dr. Internet: LOL n00b.

Gary:Umm, ok? You see, I was referred to you by one of your colleagues, Dr. Jewishname. He told me that he sent you my file last week. Have you gone through my patient history?

Dr. Internet: tl;dnr

Gary: Well I suppose it can be a bit wordy (Awkward chuckle). So I'll just tell you what we were working on before Dr. Jewishname had to leave for his family vacation. He and I were working on my motorphobia after the tragic loss of my wife Susan in the car accident . If I recal-

Dr. Internet: Pics or it didn't happen.

Gary: What? But doctor, my wife, she-

Dr. Internet: Was she hot? Pics plz. FAP.FAP.FAP.FAP.

Gary: Now I say! This is highly unorthodox, Dr. Internet. I know you're probably joking around bu-

- WE INTERRUPT THIS BROADCAST FOR AN EMERGENCY MESSAGE FROM MY TEETH -

- WE RETURN TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULE PROGRAM, ALREADY IN PROGRESS-

Dr. Internet: -never gonna let you down, never gonna turn around and hurt you!

Gary: That's the fifth time you've sung that now. Can we please get on with the session?

Dr. Internet: Lamesauce.

Gary: Well doctor it's been over a year now since the accident and I still can't seem to get behind the wheel of a car. Whenever I try, I just see Susan's limp lifeless body trapped in that cage of twisted steel and broken glass. The last tim-Wait, what are you doing with those slides? Is this a Rorshach test? Well I'm not sure what this will accomplish, but you're the professional. That first one, it's a cat asking for what seems to be "cheezburger". The second one,uhh, it's two lesbians making out. Doctor I don't see how this could possibly be related to my motorphobia. Huh, now what this third on-OH GOD. Is that a huma- but it shouldn- how did it even get bent like that?

Dr. Internet: Lol, pwned.

Gary: Goddamn it Dr. Internet, I am sick of this. How are you treat me this way! How is anything of this supposed to help me work through my phobia? I came to you, a healthcare professional, in a time of great need and this what "help" you offer me? Have you no shame, sir? Have you no empathy?

Dr. Internet: Cool story, bro.

It was at this time I grew tired of this ,by now pointless, exercise and imagined myself a gun. Which I used to shoot the good doctor several times in the face.Then I imagined him back to life, and shot him several more times. I proceeded to do this for hours on end until my imaginary hand began cramping up.

Well there you are, my readers, a haunting recollection of my brief time with the Internet. Brrr, I still get the chills just thinking about it. Well until next time, don't forget. While the internet may be a scary and foreboding thing, it's even scarier to imagine living without it.

Com-post # 17. Earth day puns are Earth day fun!

2010-03-27T19:36:00.000-07:00

Happy Earth Day, my fellow bloguls,

For the epically unaware, today is Earth Day and tonight at approximately 8:30 Pacific time, over a billion people on this big blue marble will shut off their lights in recognition of society's need to take action against climate change. I for one will be participating in this event fully. Partly because I'm the actually the one who's been melting the glaciers.

Look you can see me in this one. Hi me!

But also because I've always been intrigued by events where people gather under a common cause, one specifically that isn't killing other people because they don't share their beliefs down to the theological molecule or smoking up a fattie infront of some jam band because "good vibrations" will make the world go round.

Or both.

It's exactly this kind of public outcry turned action that shows me that we aren't all the apathetic feelings-hurters the internet has led me to believe; and while the idea that shutting off our lighting fixtures for a single hour will do a lick of a difference against global warming is laughable, like everytime we're told whenever we recieve a birthday "gift" from great aunt Mabel. "It's the thought that counts"

Wow, another cat sweater, Aunt Mabel. I love it. I'll wear it everyday.

Well as of this post it roughly T-minus 1 hour to the big black out. So I guess I'll start turning off all the lights in my home. Better now then when the government death squads start patrolling the streets. That's how they're enforcing this thing, right? As for what I'll be doing for this hour? I'm not quite sure yet. All I know is I found my collection of antique rifles and my safari hat in the attic this afternoon, and it's going to be plenty dark out. Plenty dark.

PS: For anyone whose subscribed to this blog via a RSS feed, sorry for the all the faulty updates. This post was having some terrible formatting problems. So I had to keep republishing to see if my attempts to fix it were working.

Something something sixteen something blog! Hooray! (Shut up good titles are hard to come up with)

2010-03-26T13:00:00.000-07:00

Terrible news! my computer blogrammers,

Let me start in the beginning. So I was in the lab trying to finish my latest invention (It's a machine that turns cats into dogs), when I heard a knocking sound at the front door. But when I went to answer it, lo and behold, there was no one there. This happens again, twice even. So at this point like any sane, rational person who's been taking all his pills like a good patient so there's no need to check Dr. Mandelbaum, I made an immediate dash towards my panic room whilst screaming about the return of the invisible woodpeckers.

There they are, outside my window, waiting for me.

That was 46 hours ago. After much contemplation I surmise it may not have been the invisible woodpeckers after all and all in a likelihood was just some punk kid. It also seems that when building this panic room, I may have miscalculated the necessity of a doorknob.

God, it was staring me right in the face.

So now I'm stuck in here, at least until I can figure a way out. Fortunately I have enough supplies to last several months, provided I don't require food, water or air. I have however thought far enough ahead to bring my laptop. So I figure I may as well update my blog, it's not like I could use it call for help or anything. I mean it's not like it's a telephone.

Also not a telephone.

Well dear readers, it looks like it may be the end for me. So I've decided to leave you with detailed instructions as to what to do in case of my untimely demise.

Step 1: Check to make sure I really am dead and not just asleep.Some people sleep better when the window open. Some sleep better with the window closed. I sleep best ontop of a pool of red food colouring while wearing my zany prop knife hat. Which may have been the reason I was never invited to sleepovers when I was a kid. Sigh.

Step 2: So you're sure, I'm dead. Now what? First things first, while I congratulate you on making this far into the house alive, if you wish to stay that way, don't touch anything on your way out. I don't trust conventional security systems, so I build my own. Note: If you enjoy having all of your skin, I wouldn't open the silverware drawer. Just sayin'.

There's also a cobra in the toaster.

Step 3: Surprise, you'll be planning my funeral! Now you see the hundreds of names I've scrawled in what looks like blood throughout the walls of my home? That's my enemies list. Err, more likely than not, your name will also be on this list. But since you're doing me this favour feel free to cross it off. Now you'll need to get these people to attend my funeral. But it won't be easy. You won't able to tell any of them what they're going to, since I've burnt down more than my share of bridges with these people (and the occasional orphanage). Instead tell them they're attending the premiere of one of those stupid vampire movies.

[No, I'm not going to do a Twilight MS Paint mock-up. Every possible joke that can be made about the series has been already made. So I'm not going to waste my time]

Step 4: Now I know you won't be able to get all of them. Some of them will be already dead, others fictional characters or inanimate objects. Some will just be just described as "that one guy who sat too close to me on the bus". But do try your best. Now that you've assembled my greatest enemies together, lure them onto the ship that will be waiting in the harbour. Once you are far enough out at sea inform them to their predicament, more than a few will jump ship and attempt to swim the hundreds of miles to shore. Don't be shy about using the harpoon gun to retrieve them. That's what it's there for.

I couldn't possibly let you leave before trying one of my famous devilled eggs.

Step 5: Inform the guests they may leave in an inflatable life raft, after paying their respects. After their angry, bitter and profanity laden speeches, hold up your end of the bargain and let them leave. Then, release the nawhals.

Step 6: Rather than a messy burial, I'd much rather be cremated. Then I'd like my ashes to be thrown somewhere of unparalleled majestic like the Ayer's Rock in Australia or Robert Downey Jr. face.

Step 7: Divvying up the goods. In my lifetime I have collected many rare and and valuable items (holographic pogs, purple M&Ms and Amelia Earhart just to name a few). For helping me out in my time of need, you and anyone else who helped you in fulfilling my last wishes may have any item from my collection. Careful though, most of my antiquities are also booby-trapped. Wear kevlar. As for the rest of my things? I highly doubt anyone need such trinkets as my end-world-hunger ray or cure-for-cancer beam. So just burn the rest of it to the ground.

Oh wait, my experiments, I almost forgot about them. I don't think PETA would approve of my burning them alive, so just release them at PETA's headquarters in Norfolk, Virgina. They'll do the humane thing.

This is Mr. Scruffaduff. He likes walkies after dinner and to be scratched behind his brood pouch.

So, there you go, a detailed of that things I'll need done when I'm gone. Heh, to think the panic room that I built to protect me is going to be the end of me. Wait. The panic room that I built? That probably means it's a piece of crap. Yep. Just punched a hole in the wall. I'm guessing drywall and drywall alone wasn't the best thing to build a panic room out of. Well good news readers! It looks like I'll be living a long long time. At the very least until tomorrow. Well I'm going back to work on that machine, its only half done. Right now it's just turning cats into foxes. So until next time, don't forget: Mr. Scruffaduff is always watching you. Always.

Fifteen against green.

2010-03-24T14:01:00.000-07:00

Yo! How's its hangin' my synablogues?

Now I don't want to get all sentimental on you guys, but it seems like with each passing day, I'll look out my window and I'll be able to see a little more of Spring. Maybe it'll be the scenery getting greener , or the return of the cheerful songs of chickadees from their winter migration. My point being they need to cut that shit out, right now. Now before I go into my tirade, I should say I have no problem with Spring, I like Spring; it's a nice season. But Spring, much like whatever band happens to be opening for Nickelback, may be all nice and good, it also heralds the coming something darker, something entirely more evil. Allergy Season.

This graph took entirely too long to make.

As you can plainly see, I loathe allergy season. It and it alone has the power to turn me into a red-eyed snot-dripping mass of used tissues. Truly it is a formidable opponent. Sure, I could just take the occasional allergy pill, but in essence that'd just be me surrendering to the plants and it's a slippery slope from there, my friend. Sure today we're taking our allergy pills before you we leave for work. But tomorrow (literally tomorrow) ,we'll be taking our euthanasia pills before we are forced to toil in the mines under the oppression of our leafy overlords!

Oh my god, it's already happening!

What truly astonishes me however is how many people are simple fine with this. Every day when you step out of your hyperbaric oxygen chambers (you live in one of those too right?), you're bombarded with with waves upon waves of nearly invisible invaders, which then proceed to lodge themselves all up on your grill.But hey it's only pollen right? Sure, but do you know what that pollen really is? Plant jizz. The pollen grain plays the same role fertilization mechanism for flower bearing plants as sperm does in animal reproduction.Yep that's right, when ever you step outside on a windy day and take a second to marvel at the trees waving back and forth, you are becoming the unwilling participant in a giant cross-species bukkake.

She had it coming, waggling her thorax like that. Whore!

But still they're only plants right? I mean we use their wood to build our crappy swedish furniture, we spin their fibres to make our clothing, hell, we even eat them. Why should we be afraid of something we use literally everyday of our lives.You fool! That was their plan all along! They lulled us into a false sense of security while they builtup their stockpile weapons for the future war. Poison ivy, stinging nettles, bramble thorns, these are just the tip of the iceberg. Sure these "weapons" may pale in comparison to our high-tech death machines. But don't forget they still outnumber us at least 1000 to 1 and let's definitely not forget that without our technology we're pretty much useless in fighting, have you ever tried beating up a Redwood in hand-to-hand combat?

We're gonna need a bigger axe.

But now what? What are we do about the green menace? Are we doomed to witness the extinction of the human race? Fortunately there are things you can do to aid in the war effort.

- Instead of recycling, try decycling. It's where you light your recyclables on fire and throw them in heavily wooded areas.

- Become a vegetarian, and inflict horrifying psychological trauma, by eating their dead in front of them.

- Water all the gardens on your block with a 30/70 mixture of bleach and more bleach.

- Bitchslap a ficus plant.

- Plants grow better when you talk to them, give your houseplants the silent treatment.Followed by the pouring bleach on them treatment.

-Fact: Plants need to be planted in the earth to survive. Solution: Blow up the Earth.

So there comrades, ways that even you can help out against the green menace.Well until next time, keep up the good fight against against those photosynthesizing freaks, comrades. As for me? I'm going out to pick up more tissues.

Episode 14: Obama-rama Drama or The case of the Tarded Tweet

2010-03-22T13:22:00.000-07:00

Wassup, my fellow polliblogs?

So have I ever got a topic for you today. That's right, I've actually prepared something in advance. I'll give you a moment to recover from your individual heart attacks. Good? Ok, then. So Digg, the website not the incorrectly spelled verb has been a buzz as of the late (read:yesterday) about some guy who posted a tweet calling for the assassination of the President of the US.

Now while it may be like common sense to you or I, it seemed that at no point did it cross our would-be assassin's mind, that it may not be such a great idea to post death threats against the most powerful man on the face of the earth. On the internet no less, a media platform where ANYONE and EVERYONE could see.I mean, tt wasn't even the case that he was posting his rhetoric under some pseudonym on some no-name website. Nope, he opted to use his Twitter account, which he signed up for using his real e-mail address making it all the easier to have him tracked down. He later posted a half-hearted, please-don't-send-me-to-prison redact of the tweet. Although it seems that all tweets pertaining to this matter have since been removed from his feed as of this post.

Wow really? I mean seriously if I were to even use the words "Obama" and "shoot" in the same sentence, even in something as non-threatening as "I'd love to shoot the breeze with Obama he seems like a cool guy." I'd have the CIA breathing down my neck faster tha- wait I just did didn't I? Crapcrapcrapcrap.....err...ummm.....I believe Barack Obama's health care policies to be the best thing for the American public right now. You would be hardpressed to find a better leader for this nation. He is an inspirational speaker/leader and very handsome man. Please! I have a wife and three kids!

Biden is ok too.

But its not really the whole "presidential death threat" thing that bothers me. What really bugs me is the amount of media exposure this guy is getting. I read through the article on Digg, and in the first paragraph they list the guy's blog's URL. Now I clicked it half-expecting some some 90's reject Geocities site, complete with a tiled U.S. flag background, looping MIDI of "Proud to be an American" and 20 laggy GIFs of Barack Obama morphing into Adolf Hitler. But instead when I clicked the link to the conservi-tard's blog, you know what came up? A generic crappy blogspot blog. Hmmm, you know who else has one of those? That's right me, I have a generic crappy blogspot blog.

This picture is so meta, it could evolve into a butterfree at any moment.

The point I'm trying to make is "Why won't people come and visit my crappy blog?" I mean halfs of dozens of people have already left hurtful comments on his blog, and just think of the number of people who aren't saying anything, just visiting his site to spit on their screens. He doesn't even have pictures for god's sake! I mean who do you have to kill to get that kind of publici-Oh, right. Maybe the key for publicity is finding the right balance between controversy and treason. That's walkin' a mighty fine line, son.Hmmmmmmmm. I hope that first lady, Michelle Obama doesn't enjoy her dinner, because she had too big of a lunch. Ha! I can smell the controversy a comin'. Take that White House! Yep, the hits should be rolling in....any....second....now.......

Blog Post #13, wait a minute today's Friday... so that means.... OH SHI-

2010-03-19T15:38:00.000-07:00

Whats the haps? my blogged shower drains,

So today whilst I was minding my own business, training a swarm of bees to both carry and operate a 9mm handgun, when I spot in the local news paper that the 6/49, the Canadian lottery; not the number 0.12244898, has reached a whopping 41 million ducats. That's a lot of goddamn money. It's almost enough to make me buy a ticket. Almost. So why won't I buy one? Is it the immeasurably small odds that I'll actually win? No, it isn't. If I believed in numbers and facts and all that baloney-craft, then I certainly wouldn't head down to the race track every Sunday and lose a bundle betting on the dog that one three-legged dog because he's got the the biggest heart or as the medical professionals call it "enlarged".

If you laugh at this, you're going to hell.

Do I think the money will change who I am? Well first of all I know it will change me, preferably into some sort of robotic killing machine, if I can find the right surgeon. Personally I don't buy the whole money changes people excuse, chances are if you're dick after becoming super rich you were and always will be a dick. Money is like a pair of eyeglasses, it doesn't change anything, it just makes it easier to see what's what.The reason I choose not to play the lottery is because of the stupid sheet you have to fill in to pick your numbers. For god's sake it looks like the inbred retarded baby of a SCANTRON sheet. If I should ever find out the person who designed that chaotic hodgepodge of boxes and numbers, well, let's just say they'd find the body the next morning with a bullet wound in the head, covered in several thousand bee stings.

Sure I could probably figure it out with some first-grade reading, but who am I, famous British author Sir Kingsley Amis? No, I am not. But maybe just this once I will navigate the labyrinthine passages of the lotto 6/49 ballot for a chance at the jackpot. I mean my coffers have been dwindling the last few months, I've even had to switch from hunchbacked lab assistants to camels in lab coats. It's a sad thing when a man can't even take care of his mail-order laboratory slaves -sigh-.Well, I'm off to the dog track, I hear they've brought in a two-legged dog with a speech impediment, and I'm going to get all over that. So until next time, don't forget: The ocean is deep enough to hide even the darkest of your sins :)

Leper cons and Leprechauns: this year I'll know the difference

2010-03-17T13:53:00.000-07:00

What's going on, my frozen blogurts,
From the get-go I'm telling you that this post is going to be surprisingly lean, just wanted to say I've done a complete proofread and edit of my past 10 posts and finally finished the "Organ Donation" one. Otherwise not much to report. Oh, wait Happy St. Patrick's Day to everyone. I figure I'd do Paddy's day MS Paint mashup on the subject, but I'm updating today from a very outdated laptop and I freaking despise laptops for their general lack of a mouse. You hear that computer developers? I don't care how many goddamn track packs and keyboard mouse nipple-things you put on a laptop I won't use it if it doesn't come with a mouse. So yeah my point no pictures today. Though I will change the background to the original festive green it once was. I'll also be telling ye how I usually celebrate my St. Patrick's Day.

1. Watch entire "Leprechauns" movie series
2. Wash away memories of horrible movies in metric litre of gin
3. Find a stack of DVDs on coffee table;discover they are the "Leprechauns" movie series
4. Drunkenly slur,"I ffuking lov thosse moviess -hic-"
5. GOTO 1

The post without a name. Is the name of this post.

2010-03-16T15:40:00.000-07:00

S'up my hot air blogloons,
I'm back! What a 6 days it's been eh? I was a little burnt out after my Gagarriffic post last almost a week ago so I took a few days off (also I may or may not have a life). Well anyways the feedback I've gotten on my 10th blogiversary megapost spectacularrrrrr (you gotta roll the r's) , was that went over fairly well so I'm happy about that. Alright, so what's up for today's post? Well I don't know. its not like I have anything planned, I have a tendency to bullshit and hope for the best. Not the smartest thing to do, but hey when it works, it works.

Soooo....today, todaaaaaay,to-day. Hmmm. I got it! You know which which race I hate the most? Well not a oubt in my mind, it'd have to be those dirty ugly borderline retar-No, wait I have I have a better idea!

How to win a fight against a small child.
So you're fighting a small child! Why are you doing this? Why not?It is a well known fact that children are God's most evil creation. That's right even worse than the Hitler Shark.

Carcharodon Swastikalis

You ever notice in those horror movies when Satan comes to Earth, he never inhabits, say, a tiger or a lion or even a rhino? No, because they're never evil enought, he always goes straight for a little kid.The Omen, Rosemary's Baby and Children of the Corn 1-38 are all examples of this.Children are created to look adorable and innocent, yet underneath their smiling facades are lakes of pure black vileness so deep that not even the light of ten thousand suns could break the surface; and you've just chosen to get into a fight with one of these demon-bastards.

Now you'll need to go in prepared. I'm talking Uzis taped to both biceps, no less than 12 hidden knives on your person and a Dora the Explorer doll filled a hand grenade and roofing nails. But even before your epic battle, you'll need to go over their strengths and weaknesses, just so you throughly know what you're getting yourself into.

Strengths
- Children are just at that height, where any punch they swing or kick they throw is roughly crotch level (Men)
- They still often still posess their sharp and jaggedy baby teeth, which they will undoubtedly use.

Should you lose, ths will be the last thing you see.

- If you attack a child, your motherly instinct will cause your ovaries will shoot up to your throat and start strangling you (Women)
- They are seldom alone, often congregating with many others in their hell-swarms or as we know them "Play Groups"
-If you hit a child, they will release a defensive pheromone that will cause adults/police offers in the immediate area to fall under their control and start attacking you.
- Even if you do win, chances are you're going to jail

Weaknesses
- They're really small, to the point where you could pick one up and throw it quite a distance with little effort.
- They lack knowledge of the real world. Pay someone to dress up as Santa Claus and have them tell the child that Christmas is cancelled forever.
-They are easily distracted, jangle your keys and then punch them in the face.
- They have almost no resistance to fire

EDIT: Woooo peeps, can you believe it? Over 100 views and only about 80 of those is me!

Happy 10th Blogiversary!!!

2010-03-12T20:41:00.000-08:00

Wooo! Can you believe it, my bloggy biscuits? Can you believe that I've made it all the way to history making 10 posts? That's two whole digits right there mother fucker, you'd need ALL your fingers to count the number of posts I've made. Damn right that's impressive.But how does one celebrate an occasional as momentous as this? Sure we could go with the usual caviar flavoured champagne and diamond encrusted hookers, but even that doesn't seem fancy enough. We need to kick it up a notch, a notch made in a column of elephant tusk inlaid with rubies and black pearls surrounded by angel winged hookers (the wings are made from California condors) sprinkling rose water flecked with gold. So inorder to mark the occasion, I've decided to add pictures on my blog!

Now I have a theory, and bear with me it's a little out there. I don't believe that psychiatric wards or "loony bins" as you may know them are places where they rehabilitate the mentally ill. No, I believe that these are places where they secretly hold "crazy-offs" between the patientsie) who can convince the invisible rabbits to stop killing people and then blending into society by wearing their skin) , until one of them is crowned King or Queen Crazy. Once his or her highness is crowned, they whisk him/her/himher away in a helicopter to Hollywood, where they get to direct the next Lady Gaga music video.Farfetched, you say? Maybe I'm the crazy one, you say? I'm not saying any of this things, you say? Watch this. Seriously watch it, it's critical for the next part.

I'll give you a minute to apologize for being wrong.

.....

I accept your apology. Now for a quick play by play of the crazy.

Now our scene starts 37 seconds in with what seem to be horrible white gimp looking things emerging from medic waste bin/tanning beds. Sure that's a little creepy, but with Lady Gaga's impressive track record, frankly we've expect more from her wo-

Wow, that shut me up. Jesus Christ what are these things? They look like the bastard offspring of Max from "Where the Wild Things Are" and the Xenomorph from Alien.

Their parents said no, but their hearts said yes.

Now this one isn't blatantly creepy, at first glance it's just some red head sitting in a bathtub in a room whiter than the annual Albino Nascar convention. That is, until you get to her eyes. Man alive, those are some huge peepers, they don't belong on a human face, they belong atop a tower somewhere in the depths of Mordor.

You know how things are often scarier in the dark than they are in the light? Noises, shadows, black people etc.Well not so much for these things. I think I may actually be afraid of the light now. Also making them act like cats isn't doing anything to make them less terrifying.

Hooray for date rape!

I've heard of chain-mail, but chin-mail? Yes, that was a pun.This is captain chinface; he's not too important, but he comes up later, so I thought I might as well bring him up. Bonus points if you can spot his friends the effeminate umpire and shirtless man 1-38.

Now this is what we've come to expect from Lady Gaga, this shot alone is even creepier than what passes for most horror movies. In this scene Lady Gaga is in a cage perhaps counting the number of sane things she's done this year. Note the weird spine bumps and horrifying pig face head protrusion almost screaming "KILL ME". Ahh, classic Gaga.

It still beats DJ Hero.

Little known fact Lady Gaga released a video game in Europe in 2008. It was just a continuous loop of "Bad Romance" and a microphone. You'd get one point everytime you shouted "What the FUCK!!!" into the microphone. This is a screen shot 30 seconds into the game.

Assuming each one of those is a blood diamond, that's roughly the population of Zaire, Lady Gaga is dancing in.

Meh, of all the crazy ass things that Lady Gaga has tried to wear as clothes, a model of the solar system is pretty tame. Honest to god this may be the most functional piece of clothing in her entire wardrobe. Which includes such lovies as...
- Cancer Goggles
- A Ze. That's a zebra without a bra! Heeeey-o.
- 3 Black Guys and a Wheelchair.

All this stuff was found in a box marked "Evening Wear". Even the black guys.

What's a music video without animal cruelty? It was a live polar bear at the beginning of the video shoot, but it took its own life the third hour in. To keep her dancers from doing the same, Lady Gaga actually locks them in special chambers. They were those coffin things you saw at the beginning of the video. But yeah another wacky Gaga costume? Yawn. It looks like maybe she's used up all her crazy too early...

Maybe not.

AND SHE STICKS THE LANDING! Now, this is the kind of top quality hi-octane liquid crazy we expect! I've not even going to make a joke about this one, that's how off the charts nutso this scene is.

PS: Didja recognize Captain Chinface over there?

Well there you have it folks, a fitting end to my 10th blogiversary spectacular bonanzathon! Hopefully I'll be around for another ten posts, but don't take my word on that. So until next time this is me signing off.

Blog post nine, feelin' fine.

2010-03-10T13:02:00.000-08:00

What's up my amazon tree blogs? How is it going? So late last night I was minding my own business, sitting in my laboratory shaving rats to resell as naked mole rats when one of my friends sends me this Youtube clip. If you can't see that it doesn't matter as the clip it self isn't important. It was just some Japanese game show thing where teenage Japanese girls ~~were being attacked by tentacl~~ lost their shit after meeting the guy who played Harry Potter in that series of movies whose name escapes me right now. Now why would I bother to mention this on my blog to its many reader? (No, I didn't forget an s) Because I feel a great injustice has occurred, something that so heinous that to do nothing about it would cause Martin Luther King to spin in his grave, so quickly in fact that he would probably explode out of his coffin and go drilling toward the Earth's core. I am of course talking about why I haven't yet appeared on any Japanese TV show.

Did I do something to offend you, Japan? I thought we all squared up during our last encounter. I agreed to reseal Godzilla in the ocean floor and you promised to delay production on your creepy disgusting pornography. I see absolutely no reason as to why I would be snubbed to appear on a Japanese Game Show. I mean I'm certainly crazy enough to eat a pound of wasabi and people dressed like Stalin club me with live dolphins (this is their version of Jeopardy). Are you afraid I'd go all Ken Jennings on your country and win every game show for all time? Because if so I could easily throw a couple of games.

Perhaps you just didn't know how I felt on the subject. Well hopefully this clears everything up Japan and hopefully you , my blog readers, will be able to see me next week on SUPER HAPPY BONANZA-THON KAWAII CHALLENGE 2010 (their version of the Price is Right). I should probably get some practice in though, it's been ages since I last pole-vaulted a donkey. Well until next time, this is me signing off and remember one should never strike a lady..... with a closed fist.

Don't worry I haven't left you.....yet.

2010-03-09T12:36:00.000-08:00

Hey what's up my British Bull blogs,
It's me and I'm back and recharged after my four day hiatus. Did ya miss me? Well don't you worry because I'd never leave you guys. At least not because taking everything pawnable in the house and adopting a new identity as Tito Jimenez, an ordinary day labourer by day, but when the night falls he dons his uniform and becomes... a night labourer. So what's been in the news lately. There doesn't seem to be anything too interesting, earthquake this, senate that, blahblahblah. So I guess I'll make up some news:

"Moon revealed to be eyeball of god; tells mankind to stop landing crap on it as it really stings"

"North Korea struggles to reach new level of bat-shit insanity; considers making new national currency the skin that pudding gets when you leave it out too long"

"Barack Obama rebuilds nation's economy while doing triple backflip on tiger. PICS INSIDE."

Now those are some headlines worth checking out . I figure with news that good, you could even keep the Newspaper industry afloat for at least another couple of years; not that they deserve it. They brought this on themselves. They failed to heed the market warnings, failed to reinvent themselves for the twenty first century. So now they're obsolete and dying off; it serves then right. Although to be fair it's not they ever stood a chance of winning against the internet in any way.Online the news is fresher, the comics are funnier and the opinions are even more bat-shit insane. It's survival of the fittest and the newspaper industry is the gazelle born with 3 legs. However, fortunately for the newspapers, like the panda bear they too have just barely managed to dodge the falling hammer of Darwin by still having some uses which include:

- Wrapping things
- Lining the bottoms of things
- Cleaning up large spills
- That magic trick where you pour a litre of water into a newspaper cone and it disappears.
- Paper Mache
- Remembering what day it is
- Avoiding eye contact on the bus
- Looking nonchalant
- Swatting flies and disobedient pets
- Hobo Blankets
- Hobo Urinals

Well that's all for now, and remember until next time. It's not murder if you just cut off their hand. Toodles :)

Tonight on a very special blog post....

2010-03-05T22:57:00.000-08:00

Hello my fellow blog cabins,
Hows it going? Recently (read:5 minutes ago) I started seriously thinking about end-of-life organ donations, then cat videos, then cat food, then liverwurst and finally back to organ transplants. In the future I probably shouldn't collect my thoughts while you-tubing. Anyways, from everything I've heard and read about organ donation over the years, it seems almost wrong not to be one and "you're talking to someone with very loose definitions of right and wrong here", he said, loading the stolen Girl Scout cookies onto the truck. It's not like you're not losing anything (being dead and all) and just by filling out a few forms, you could save/drastically improve another person's life.

But still despite the logical nature of organ donation there still exists a squeamishness to it all that I just can't shake. I've tried to pinpoint it to some aspect in particular, but it still eludes me . It's not the image of someone removing my organs, I'll be dead and be too busy roasting on a spit over a cauldron of flames to notice some guy helping himself to my reasonable condition you-could-probably-buff-out-the-dings kidneys. Maybe the opposite even, the idea that as I'm lying in the ground stone cold dead, that my heart will be alive beating somewhere else in someone else, is a strangely comforting notion.

I suppose its the general thought of death that spooks all of us. Giving away your organs can be seen as bowing out of the "life" race. It is both the recognition and preparation for death, kind of like making a buying a coffin, but squishier. Once they remove your organs, you're gone and never coming back. It's exactly that sort of never-go-back decision that leads to the what-ifs, like what if I had gotten better, done a complete 180 and lived another good 5 years. It's normal to think like that, it's human nature to want to keep on living. But it's not reality. You know they (the people in charge of removing your organs: doctors, Korean gangsters you owe money to etc.) wouldn't be taking your organs, if they thought for a second, you still might make it. It's not some willy-nilly decision they throw a dart at a board to decide. They're also not just going to give away your organs to the first person that asks, your liver won't just be handed to the first guy that stumbles into the ICU with a half-empty bottle of Jäeger in each hand. Like I said before these are professionals, it's their job to ensure that your donation is given to the most appropriate/deserving candidate.

Here is where I originally planned to write some maudlin anecdote about an imaginary guy dying of organ failure, and how only you could save him. But I've decided not to. Why? Because as I said before organ donation should be a logical decision, and arguing for it by trying to sway emotions seems absurdly hypocritical. So instead dear reader I will just leave you with this with this link.

PS: To counteract the odd seriousness of this article. CAT VIDEOS!
PPS: The reason I didn't touch on live organ donations ie) giving someone part of your liver or one of your lungs is because that's a whole other can of worms.

Posting from school.

2010-03-04T17:43:00.000-08:00

Hello my fellow Blogdors,
How are things? Me, I'm really sleepy for some reason. Really, really slee-zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Wha? Huh? What's going on? Where am I? Who drooled all over my keyboard? But in all truth, I am really tired here.I don't even know why. I got my 8 hours of solid sleep last night and I'm not doing anything particularly exhaustive. The only thing I can think of is it may have something to do with the chocolate milk I had earlier. It was good milk I tell you, albeit insanely overpriced. Seriously, two dollars for a tiny carton of chocolate milk? You've pissed off the wrong man, Dairy Industry, the wrong man. Well I'd post more, but I have go find out where you can buy fake polyurethane cows and hand grenades. So until next time this is me signing off. .

PS: Hand grenade is kind of a redundancy don't you think? I mean I don't think they make grenades for any other part of your body.

PPS: I'd suggest hoarding milk and dairy products, I have a feeling they may grow increasingly scarce sometime in the near future.

Blogpost Numero 5? How do you say 5 in Spanish? El Fiveo? Yeah, that sounds right.

2010-03-02T20:00:00.000-08:00

Hello my fellow bloglodites,
These last few days have been dull as fuck, the Olympics are over the slow monotony of daily routine is slowly creeping back into existence, making it self more known when each painfully slow second that passes like a really bad silent fart .Soooo, what's been in the news lately? That Chile quake has has its share of the headlines, the devastation suffered by that poor South American country, must make for a good read. But quite frankly I can't seem make my self care. It is because I'm a bad person? Maybe. But when I see articles on the Chile quake I don't want to read them,and the pictures of the people suffering? I don't wanna see them. I'm just really really apathetic ( I think I may have used up all my humanity points during the Haiti Quake). I guess that answers the "Am I a bad person" question. Oh, well what are ya gonna do?

Despite my willful and blissful ignorance I have managed to catch one neat factoid about the Chile quake: that the earthquake was so powerful it actually shifted the poles of the Earth by about 8 whole cm. But what effect does that have on us? Our days will be 1.04 microseconds shorter. Really? Damn.That was so close to being interesting. So close.

PS:The Chile Quake also sounds like some awful main course served in one of those Mexican restaurants that are also part something else ie) Paco's Mexicana Restaurante and Printer Ink Cartridge Refilling

Blog: Day 2

2010-02-28T20:29:00.000-08:00

So, another update on a DIFFERENT DAY?!?!?! It's official, this new blog destroys my old blog's record.
Speaking of broken records, Canada, today broke the record for the most gold medals ever won in a Winter Olympics. Sweet, eh? For those of you lucky enough to watch the Gold Medal Game, it was one hell of a barn burner, the Americans impressively tied the game despite the two goal deficit, but in the end Canada took it home with the game winning shot by Sid the Kid. Not that I can say I'm too surprised by this: It is our game after all.

Now about the closing ceremonies. There were pretty good in my opinion. I missed about an hour of it, but did managed to catch the part with William Shatner, Michael J. Fox and the other Canadian comedians, so that was cool. Highlights of the show included the giant stereotypical Canadian image ice dance and Michael Bublé's rendition of Maple Leaf Forever . Lowlights included the Canadian government deciding the best musicians to represent Canada would be Avril Lavigne, Nickelback and Hedley. Seriously, Canadian Government? Seriously? Also, the break dancing hip-hop finale was pretty mediocre. You'd think they would've found a way to end the Olympics that didn't involve a giant day-glo seizure. Although I did enjoy their "Stomp-esque" music and giant neon crowd-surfing bubbles.

That's right 3 posts in one day motherfucker!

2010-02-27T23:21:00.000-08:00

BAM! You thought it was over? It isn't. This post is here to test the subscription feed. Thank you for your time.

PS: The movie Cop Out sucked, Bruce Willis isn't funny.

Post 2

2010-02-27T23:09:00.000-08:00

So wow, I still have a blog. Can you believe it? I created this blog back in '07 as a place to store my thoughts, and then promptly forgot about it after the first post; and even after all that time, it's still here. Lying in wait like a loyal dog patiently sitting by the front door awaiting its Master's return, or maybe a cancerous tumor that after vigorous chemo, you thought had finally gone into remission and then returns to kill you in old age. Yep, it's definitely one of those two. You'd think the people over at the Internet would deleted my two-bit site long ago to make more room on their computer-ram drives or something. It makes me wonder how many other dead pages there exist on the internet, and how much faster everything would be if we cleared away all the dead cars on the information highway.So I spent a good few minutes changing around the page layout and colour scheme. Not that it matters, since no one is reading this. But still I figured teeny-tiny white text on a black background wasn't the best choice for reading on. It makes sense, if it were, they'd probably print books like that.

Well that's all for today, and remember kids: Never take candy from strangers, unless its the good stuff like Kit-kat or Twix. Who'd risk being molested for some fucking butterscotch or hard candy. An idiot that's who.

Wait, what?

2010-02-27T22:56:00.000-08:00

HOLY FUCKING DICKTITS I HAVE A BLOG?!?!?