NYF’D

From the creators of Street Fighter, X-Men vs. Street Fighter and Marvel vs. Capcom comes a brand new fighting game series. NYF’D is the knife fighting game to start and end all knife fighting games. Sporting many fighters from all over the world, they gather once a year on Enforcer Island for the Great Blade Battle. Only one will survive. The survivor is that year’s winner. There can only be one winner. So…there’s only one survivor. The sole survivor wins. The winning survivor is the only one who both wins and survives. Survivor. Winner. One. What do they win? GOLD!

Let’s take a look at the fighting roster!

Name: Arthur Dingo
Home: Warrumbungle, Australia
Weapon: Bolo Machete
Primary Attack: This is a Knife
Secondary Attack: Crikey
Special: G’Day
Bio: As the only shorts-wearing fighter in this years competition, Dingo hopes that winning the gold will help his town replenish its native whitchetty grub population.

Name: Leisure Dupree
Home: Harlem, NY, USA
Weapon: Straight Razor
Primary Attack: Pimp Slice
Secondary Attack: Pimp Slash
Special: Bitch Better Gimme My Daaaamn Mon-ay!
Bio: He’s a mover. He’s a shaker. He’s a hustler. And he’s here to take the prize. This knife fighting shit is old hat to him (Note: he wears a very large, very new, purple leopard print hat).

Name: Angus MacClannough
Home: Edinburgh, Scotland
Weapon: Broken Whiskey Bottle and a Dirty AIDS Needle
Primary Attack: Hooligan
Secondary Attack: Longshank
Special: Highlander Fugue
Bio: As western Scotland’s primer dope dealer, Angus entered the tournament to help pay for his ever expanding empire, and squash his rival dealer, Robert the Brute.

Name: John Running Tree
Home: Mattaponi Indian Reservation, Virginia, USA
Weapon: Tomahawk
Primary Attack: Chop
Secondary Attack: Flying Hawk
Special: Great Spirit Summon
Bio: Born in Richmond, Virginia to 2 affluent white people, John is 1/8 Algonquian Native American. By winning the tournament, he hopes to prove to his tribe (which he gets privileges from on a technicality) and himself that he’s a real red-blooded savage.

Name: M’Butu
Home: Democratic Republic of the Congo
Weapon: Panga Machete
Primary Attack: Monkey Scalp
Secondary Attack: Juju
Special: Blood Drinker
Bio: Ever butcher an entire troop of AK-wielding rebels with a machete? M’Butu has. Numerous times. What else is there to do in the middle of nowhere?

Name: Kato Fukimaro
Home: Osaka, Japan
Weapon: Katana
Primary Attack: Ninja Strike
Secondary Attack: Samurai Strike
Special: Wind Ghost Robot Hello-Kitty Strike
Bio: Obligatory, stereotypical Japanese character. Dude likes sushi and is a teenager with emotional problems.

Name: Francis Gantineau
Home: Parts Unknown, Canada
Weapon: Axe
Primary Attack: Big Swing
Secondary Attack: Chopping Block
Special: De-forestation
Bio: From his personals ad – “SWM iso SWF Larger than life five-time champion of the Lumberjack Games seeks rewarding life with sturdy woman. Must like the outdoors, large hairy men, and Jean-Claude Van Damme movies.”

Name: Topper Bollocks
Home: Brixton, England
Weapon: Switchblade
Primary Attack: Cut the Crap
Secondary Attack: Piss Stain
Special: The Filth and the Fury
Bio: “The money feels good and your life you like it will, but surely you’re time will come as in Heaven, as in Hell” - the words Topper Bollocks, the time traveling British punk from the ‘70’s lives, fights, and dies by. What a poser.

Name: Laurence Abdul Aziz Ibn Saud
Home: Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
Weapon: Scimitar
Primary Attack: Beheading
Secondary Attack: Crescent Moon
Special: Slashing Gas Prices

Bio: This guy’s the son of a royal Saudi family/oil tycoon. He’s richer than God. He doesn’t need the prize money. So the only reason he’s fighting is ‘cause, straight up, he’s a dick. And his name’s Laurence. The fuck’s up with that?

Chinese Zodiac Horoscopes

March 2009

Rat
If you were born in the year of the rat, then you probably wonder why. I mean, it’s a rat. A disease spreading nuisance that only witches and herpatologists like. This has made you resentful. And crewel. Oh sure, your sign says you’re intelligent and cunning, but you’re also extremely selfish, arrogant and Machiavellian. So put all those traits to good use. This month you will find a way to kill your neighbor and make it look like an accident. The goal here is to shack up with his wife a few times, guilt free. It’s not cheating if he’s dead.

Ox
How’s my slow-witted beast of burden doin’, hmm? Doin’ fiiiiiine? Erry thang’s aight? Look, I don’t expect the gullible, unwashed masses born under this sign to be literate, so I’ll just say this behind their backs; this month they will be at work at the same soul-crushing, dead end job and do everything the boss says and keep doing it every month until they are forced into retirement and screwed out of the pension. And their slew of resentful kids will spring for a 3rd-rate nursing home where they'll spend the rest of their life making poops in a diaper and forgetting to take their socialized Alzheimer’s medication. There. Now I never have to write an Ox horoscope ever again.

Tiger
You think you’re hot shit, don’t you? Mr. “Best-animal-spirit-thingy-in-China”. Common, who wants to imagine themselves as a fucking sheep? Well this month will put you in your place. Your natural tendency for exploration and the unpredictable will put you on the path of a road trip. Hey, sounds like fun! Better check into the Milwaukee Radisson, man. You got a long trip ahead of you tomorrow. It will be the exact same Radisson that the Mid-West Furry Alliance decided to set up their annual convention. Get ready to be creeped out by a bunch of fat, sweaty, repressed dudes dressed up as actual tigers touching you. They’re just so attracted to your determination, even if it is directed at getting the fuck out of there.

Rabbit
Oh, look at the precious, sensitive wittle wabbit. So you’re an artist, huh? Delicate? Well then I am happy to announce that Barack Obama’s stimulus package will not only fail, it will backfire tremendously. Get ready for the social upheaval of a surprisingly short lifetime. This shit will be French Revolution meets L.A. Riots meets Land of the Dead and your privileged head will be the first on the chopping block. You know who eats a lot of rabbit? Chinese people [and Elmer Fudd – ed.]

Dragon
Larger than life symbols of power and authority don’t exist. It’s all fake. It’s something Kim Jong Il dreamt up while sitting on North Korea’s only toilet. These are your Caesars, your Stalins, your Clint Eastwoods. Oh sure, they existed at one point, but are hidden in caves like real dragons. If really 1/12 of the human population (560 million people) were like this, you think anything would ever get done? The world would constantly be divided among many nations while greedy fucking secret cabals ran the world behind the desks of international corporations. (I feel like there’s this big fucking anvil with the word “irony” written on it hanging over my head). Ok, soooo, for march, all you dragons out there will……..make someone’s life real shitty. Boom. This job is easy.

Snake
Jesus Christ Wikipedia isn’t giving me shit for the snake. It has 12 positive traits and like 5 negative ones, the worst of which is “snobbish”. Snobbish? Are you kidding me? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? Fine, you’ll go to a restaurant and return the food because it wasn’t good enough. How, hilarious, is that shit, amirite? Now fuck the hell off you wise, profound, charming, logical, intelligent, creative, compassionate, discreet, honorable, humorous, generous, and attractive asshole. You’re comedy poison.

Horse
This Zodiac symbol is renowned for its free spirited and enthusiastic ugly bitches. So, that chick who coordinated every high school class event is a horse. So for all you happy-go-lucky giant beasts out there who shit standing up, this month you will become extra special when you get smacked in the head and end up looking like this forever:

Sheep/Goat/Ram
[Chinese people don’t know what is up with their own damn calendar – ed.] These people are supposedly the most creative bunch of them all, so try to keep that in mind as they switch it up this month by spending 19 hours a day sitting on a filth-encrusted couch in their old, dirty underwear, eating Cheetos and watching episodes of Judge Joe Brown while they try to work through their bout of writers block. “But, Kristin! If I get a job, then I won’t have any time to work on my screenplay about the vampires who fight werewolves! ‘Common, babe, I’m going to make it. My side-project experimental jazz-fusion-techno band Rayn is going to make it. Then I’ll buy you all the nice things in life you deserve. Now how about a fin for some smokes?” will be uttered for the 9,377th time, so go out and buy a victory can of Pringles. Remember when I said they’ll “switch it up” this month? Usually they watch Judge Mathews.

Monkey
Versatility defines your character, and the universe knows this. That’s why you are going to lose the following things: wife, job, home, dog, car, wallet, respect, 2 teeth, a foot (to diabetes), the lottery, and a good chunk of your sanity. Let’s see how you handle all that, mother fucker. And while you’re sorting all that shit out, try balancing the national budget, bailing out the economy, reforming politics in D.C., building clean energy grid, making heath care affordable to the entire country, solving global warming, legalizing pot and putting a man on Mars. This horoscope is dedicated to President Barack Obama, honorary March Monkey (not racist).

Rooster
I want you to close your eyes and imagine what a gay, black teenager who grew up in NYC is like. I see the most fashionable (like 3 years ahead of trends), funniest, brutally honestest, overtly snarky, bitchiest person, ever. In one word, cocks. Thems rooster folk. This month they will drive around with friends, get drunk, do a little blow, make fun of poor people and avoid any location not resembling DuPont Circle, The Village or West Hollywood. You know. “Thursday”. Those cocks.

Dog
Dog people (heh) are loyal and hate weakness because it fucks up the pack. Riiight. Anyway, they make the perfect career soldiers. In fact that’s all the military is; just a bunch of kids born in 1982. Can’t wait to see what these young guns of ’94 are going to do to the A-rabs we’re-a fightin’. Anywho, most of these guys are really into March Madness, so I predict a lot of fights breaking out. You might want to stock up on medical tape and antiseptic because the Terps are going to kick the shit out of everyone in the NCAA and if anyone disagrees, my left fist can make a 2 quick rebuttals and my right will follow up with an excellent counterpoint.

Pig
Ahahaha, pigs are supposed to be greedy and evil, and a sign of fertility. Like this huge vagina sucking out all life into its gaping maw. Like that stupid bitch in California who gave birth to octuplets when she already had 6. “I NEED MORE EGGS! Bigger family…BIGGER I SAY!!!” I know exactly how her month is going to end; with 14 welfare checks. The super religious are asking me to pray for her. Pfff. Be careful for what you pray for because it just might happen. Well, with all those mid-air satellite crashes happening, I guess the odds of one falling out of the sky and crushing her dumb ass isn’t so far off. My prayers have been answered!

Skate Witches

I really hate people who harp on the 80’s like it was our generation’s golden age. You know who I’m talking about; that guy who has to reference everything 80’s, watches I Love the 80’s, half-ironically likes The Cure, talks about 80’s cartoons like they gave birth to and nursed him, and they absolutely love Family Guy…for all the 80’s references.

The 80’s fucking sucked because it was, sad to say, exactly the same as this past shitty decade. Asshole reactionary president, big punk and emo sub culture, bizarre cartoons, revenge of the nerds; they’re the same goddamn decade. Shit, you had people shopping at thrift stores just so they can wear vintage 80’s clothing like stone-washed jeans and bright neon shirts because it’s so fucking ironic and 80’s and OMG. When you do something that hard that ironically it loses all irony and all of a sudden it’s 1983 again.

This is not necessarily a bad thing.

There’s a video on youtube called Skate Witches that has absolutely fascinated me. Its so shitty and terrible and poorly acted and retarded, and fucking “Skate and Destroy” is being played on a boom box off screen…I just love it.

“We’re the Skate Witches and we don’t take no crap from [*spookily*] no oooone…” Oh, be still my throbbing heart. I’m totally under their spell. I too, only ride at midnight.

Yeah, irreverent youth sub cultures never change. Their cliché total lack of vision is as eternal as the tides. Seriously, there are a million youtube videos of emo and third-wave punks wearing the same Misfits shirt doing the exact same retarded stuff.

To find out what’s in store for our mirror generation, I tracked down the Queen Witch, whose real name is Jenny Parker, and shot the shit with her about her life after high school. We sat down outside at a coffee shop/bistro in DuPont Circle where Jenny talked and took huge drags from her clove cigarette.

Me: So, are the Skate Witches still around?
Jenny Parker:…Hmm?

Are the Skate Witches-
Noooooooo…no. We haven’t talked since Slutty Sarah slept with my boyfriend at prom.

You guys went to prom? I figured that would be the last place you’d go to in High School.
Yeah, I mean, we were going TP the parking lot while everyone was dancing in the gym. Sarah and David lived on the same side of town so they came together. When I showed up they were screwing in David’s car.

Harsh. And that was the end of the Skate Witches?
Sorta. I had to repeat senior year. They graduated and moved on and I had to stay behind. It was a rough year.

I bet.
I mean I caught those bastards cheating on me, and my rat died. It was a lot of stress no wonder I failed.

What was your rat’s name?
Willow. She was my best friend. I accidently sat on her.

What did you do after you graduated?
Well, after I got my GED I stayed in my mom’s and my mom’s boyfriend’s house while I worked at a pet store. I was going to move to New York after I saved up $5,000 but do you have any idea how hard that is when you work minimum wage and spend most of your money on drugs and gas to go to punk shows?

Why didn’t you just find a squat somewhere in New York or L.A.? That’s what real punks usually do.
I was gonna but I didn’t.

Why?
Tsk, ugh! You’re just as bad as my mom’s stupid boyfriend.

When did you move out of your parent’s place?
I didn’t.

I’m sorry?
I didn’t move out of my parent’s place.

Oh.
Yeah…

[During the awkward pause in the conversation, Patty kills half of her cigarette in one pull]

Any hobbies?
I like to go to cemeteries at night, lay on top of the graves and smoke.

Weed or cigarettes?
Usually just my cloves but if I have some weed I’ll smoke it.

Cool.
Would you like to join me tonight?

That’s OK, I have to get this article back to the office and edit it for tomorrow. Anything else you’d like to say, maybe to all the would-be neo Skate Witches out there?
Parents never understand your heart. That’s why it doesn’t matter if I don’t have one. Punk rock never dies!

…And What’s the Deal with Airplane Peanuts?!

Flying sucks. It doesn’t just suck; it’s a downright pain in the ass. It’s right up there with getting a parking ticket or having the stomach flu. Actually, flying is sort of like a combination of both those things. It’s an expensive, needless hassle that makes you wanna throw up. Airplanes are flying Skinner Boxes from Hell.

It’s noisy, cramped, uncomfortable, disease ridden, confusing, scary, and expensive as hell. Oh yeah, here are some other reasons why we should go back to using railroads.

Security
Thanks, 9/11 hijackers. You’ve permanently fucked up the world forever and I say this without a hint of sarcasm. Because you’ve instilled so much psychotic fear into everyone, now every time I fly on a plain I need to wait 90 minutes while some barely literate yokel fingers my luggage. We all have our horror stories about being randomly selected for an intense security shakedown. My personal favorite is my family trip back from Florida. My mom was selected and spent nearly 25 minutes getting the third degree by GED-scholar army men holding M-16’s while some dried up old tart managed to smuggle a LIVE GODDAMN CAT ON BOARD THE CABIN IN A FUCKING SHOPPING BAG. So here’s a helpful tip to any would be terrorist: cat bombs. A cat with a stick of dynamite up its ass is completely undetectable by US security. Go nuts.

In-Flight Movies
What do the movies Juno, The Emperor’s New Groove, A.I., Horton Hears a Who, and First Sunday have in common? They all had the roar of a dull fart at the box office and were, literally, the best things to watch on my most recent trip. Trust me. They were the best. There were much worse films being offered (e.g. The Love Guru). If I knew that’s all I had to look forward to for 8 hours, I would have given serious thought to smuggling on board some drugs.

The Kosher Meal
Didn’t you know Jews love meals consisting solely of an old tangerine and some Sprite? We have our own version of religious fasting akin to Ramadan called “I’m going to return this. This-this-this is just terrible!” All airline food is inedible, but at least with the Goyim meal you know you’re getting a pig. What part of the pig I have no idea. All I know is that it’s a torn off hunk of a pig carcass because that’s all white people eat apparently. The kosher meal, on the other hand, is an unidentifiable complex of starches, carbohydrates, protein and some secret ingredient that turns those otherwise normal food options into bowel-clenching, god-cursing experience. I think the secret ingredient is “hate”.

Detroit
Yo, fuck Detroit. I was laid over in that city twice. The first time I was there, I spent a good 2 hours in the most fake ass Japanese restaurant ever getting drunk on sake and trying to decide whether or not I wanted cheeseburger sushi or “kabuki” style mozzarella sticks. By the way, sake is gross and has no redeeming qualities, just in case you were tempted to try something that was probably fermented behind a radiator. The second time I was there, I figured I’d just stick to some tried and true McDonalds. There’s no conceivable way you can fuck up a McDonalds; they’re all the same! Not true. This one was managed by all the cute little urban achievers Detroit had to offer. I know the kid working the counter felt like a tool and everything, but it’s not like he should take it out on m-, well, actually. If I were in his position, I’d probably have acted like just as big a cockhead as he did. I can’t blame the kid for being rude and lazy but, you know, fuck him. There was one cool thing about the Detroit airport. I have no way to describe this, because I’m not even sure what it was, but I’ll give it my best shot. It was an underground psychedelic tunnel of wonders that stimulated 4/5 senses and connected 2 different parts of the airport. I spent a lot of time walking back and forth down there.

Fatties, Babies, and Fat Babies
The scariest moment on a plane is right before you take off you get to see who you’re sitting next to for the next 10 hours. Some colossal sack of shit waddles over to you, squeezes in and politely asks the stewardess for a seatbelt extender. That’s when you know this is for reals and that there is no escape. Some fat people need two seats on an airplane. What happens when they do get their two seats, but you’re the one with the middle seat? Babies are the worst because they piss off everyone. Ever notice how when a baby screams on a plane the mom doesn’t even flinch? That’s because she’s conditioned herself to block out the noise. Um, ‘scuse me Zen master Monk Quang Duc Mom, but maybe you should have waited 2 or 3 years to go on vacation so you wouldn’t bad-vibe the plane by having the entire cabin simultaneously wish for a mid-air explosion just so we wouldn’t have to listen to your screaming, shirtless, bald kin for one second longer. And fat babies? They’re the blurst.

Flying Outhouse
I don’t know what it is about airplanes that turns people back into uncivilized cave monkeys, but it seems everyone forgets how to shit and not fuck in public once the doors to the bathroom close. It’s so disgusting in there. I saw this one where shit got everywhere. I’m not talking about just all over the seat. I mean the seat, the walls, the door, the mirror, the ceiling, everywhere. What the fuck? Was this person doing fucking jumping jacks while shitting? Did they mistake a bowel movement for their soul escaping so they thought they’d try to capture it and shove it back in? And if you want to screw in an airplane toilet, that’s your business. I already described what the worst bathroom is hygienically. You know what they do to clean those up? Wipe it down with a wet paper towel, Fabreeze it, and call it a day. So to all you would be mile-high joiners, good luck. Hope you manage to keep your wood with that image in your mind.

Lost Luggage
I’m out of clever juice. Lost luggage just blows. I don’t know. I just have a very romantic notion of what a trans-continental train ride would be like and this is just one of the many, many, many, many, many, many problems that can be solved.

Death Row Confessions – Virginia Edition

Name: Cory Johnson
Jurisdiction: Richmond (federal conviction)
Crime: murder
Date Entered: 7-2-97
“You know, when I first got in here knowing what would happen, I tried finding some sort of peace inside, you know? I tried religion. I tried yoga. I tried chess. Nothing. All I do now is find gumps. I’m gump crazy. Been like that for years. I ain’t gay or nothing but that’s how I spend my time. I got a reputation around here now. My momma don’t know, and I don’t want her knowing. I think it’d break her heart. I’m not going to stop doing it, but, whatever. Fuck it.”

Name: Percy Walton
Jurisdiction: Danville
Crime: murder 3x, robbery
Date Entered: 10-31-97
“I’d do it again”

Name: Daryl Atkins
Jurisdiction: York co.
Crime: grand negligence ($500,000 unpaid parking fines)
Date Entered: 4-28-98
“This is fucking bullshit! Fucking fuck shit fuck hell ass cock fuck shit!!!”

Name: Brandon Hedrick
Jurisdiction: Appomattox
Crime: murder, rape, robbery
Date Entered: 7-22-98
“I did rape and kill that girl, but the body the found in the river to convict me was not Lisa’s; it was a victim of one of my buddies Richard Tipton. When I bust out of here I’m gonna bust your nose, Dick! Haha. We play this game a lot.”

Name: Darrick Walker
Jurisdiction: Henrico
Crime: murder, multiple homicides
Date Entered: 10-21-98
“You wanna know where Saddam hid those weapons of mass destruction?” I nod my head. [* Walker unzips his fly*]

Name: “Swastika” Pete Burns
Jurisdiction: Norfolk
Crime: murder (hate crime)
Date Entered: 5-8-99
“Honestly, I don’t hate blacks anymore. Really! I got to know a few in here and, I can say from the bottom of my heart that they are some swell, swell, guys. Super nice. I don’t have a mean thing to say about them. Now on the other hand, the Jews…”

Name: John Allen Mohammed
Jurisdiction: Prince William County
Crime: capitol murder; acts of terrorism and homicide
Date Entered: 3-9-04
“I never did anything. It was all Lee Malvo. He, he did all the shootings. It was all his idea. I just drove the car. He told me we were going to Arby’s. I’d say , ‘Hey, Lee. When are we going to Arby’s?’ and he’d say the same thing. You know what he’d say? He’d say, ‘Just a minute.’ Just a minute! Can you believe that? ‘Just a minute’ *blamo*! ‘Just a minute’ *sha-bang*! I didn’t want any of them white folks to die, I just wanted some Arbys’.”

Chimp Wars: Recorded Attacks

Rarely does this blog get topical, but I cannot let this piece of news go by un-re-reported. Remember when that chimp Travis was hopped up on Xanex and ripped that lady’s face off? Then the police shot and killed Travis…for ripping that lady’s face off?

This may seem like just another tragic yet hilarious piece of news traum-edy but actually, this is one act in a very long, Shakespearean play (a traum-edy) depicting the ongoing conflict between chimps and man.

See, some 3 million years ago we both shared a common humanoid ancestor. Like, imagine a really smelly, deformed looking tribe of pig monkey men living in the jungle. Then the tribe split. No one knows why, but we can guess. I like to think it has to do with skin color. Anyway, the half that stayed in the jungle became modern day chimps and the half that lived in the plains became all the races of human, except Aborigines. To this day chimps and man still hate each other and carry the same grudge. Also, chimps are mad that we call our common ancestor “humanoid” and not “chimpanoid”.

For millions of years, we have waged war openly. It was not until recent times have we forgotten our bloody history. I blame the Church. Maybe that’s why the story of Travis seems like an isolated event. But this attack and many more of its kind have been recorded in the annals of history.

Chimp Army Uniformed Attack
Hayfield, Ohio 1997
The Warren County zoo hosts a variety of living arrangements for its animals. Bird sanctuaries, giant sloth terrariums, but the zoo’s most popular habitat was Chimp Island, a 2000 square foot enclosure surrounded by a vast moat. At approximately 10:30 AM, the chimps finally cut through the trunk of a palm tree with the lower jaw bone of a no longer missing zoo curator. With the fallen palm serving as an impromptu bridge, the first wave of chimps, 15 strong, crossed over into the park. Zoo patrons mauled, fountains defiled and hotdog stands turned, humans alike were helpless until a posse of security guards managed to drive back the invading force. That’s when the second wave, 20 strong, attacked. It took ten federal marshals to bring the combat to a conclusion. By the end of the day, 34 chimps were dead, one human child was dead, 78 humans maimed, and 3 feces covered hotdog carts were rendered uncleanable. The lone surviving chimp, George, was brought into questioning. He died in custody. Officials report he committed suicide via cyanide capsule, but since no body was ever recovered this is all speculative.

Biological Warfare
Reston, Virginia 1989
There was a domestic biological attack on the United States which predated the mailed anthrax attacks shortly following September 11, 2001. A group of 3 suicide terrorist chimps, Mongo, Manson, and Bubbles, willfully and knowingly contracted an airborne strain of the Ebola virus in the hopes of decimating America’s population. Their plan was to reach the United States, hemorrhage/crash, and spread the biosafety level-4 virus to a human host by any means necessary. Their plan would have succeeded if it not for the fact that the strain of Ebola, now known as Ebola Reston, does not affect human beings. Stupid monkeys.

Coercion through Dystopia
Northern New Jersey, 3976

Colonel George “Bright Eyes” Taylor was subjugated to numerous forms of torture under a society run by apes. In this land he was treated as an animal with barely any regard for his life. Thought of as inferior, he was ostracized and harassed until he was finally banished into the forbidden zone. If this is not a call to warning of our horrible future, then I don’t know what is. It reinforces what I have been saying for years: kill all chimps.

Oh yeah and fuck Jane Goodall

It's The End of the World

Nostradamus was brilliant. Not because he was clairvoyant; in fact I hate to be the one to break it to you but magic doesn’t exist. Neither does luck, God, or Never-Never Land. And he wasn’t brilliant because he did what all great psychics do: be as vague as fucking possible.

No, this medieval jackass is brilliant because he was lucky, er, by random coincidence fortunate, enough to pick the end of the world date as the same one as the Mayan calendar. I think. Either way, a dysenteric old man and a dead civilization picked a date somewhere in December 2012 for the world to end. The scary thing is…it might just come true.

Have you seen the world these days? It’s so fucked, and in more ways then one. Going for the sex metaphor here, it seems that the world has an apocalyptic dick furiously going in and out of every orifice at the same time. The question is which one will bust first?

Global Warming
If you could travel back in time and kill someone, who would you kill? Hitler and Justin Timberlake’s parents are good choices. What about Henry Ford? He kind of started that whole industrial revolution thing. Or at least made it sexy.

So the icecaps are going to melt. Big whup. The world’s not going to get all Water World on us, and it’s a good thing too. That movie sucked. What is going to happen is probably a million times worse. Things are just going to escalate. Northern Europe will turn into Northern Canada, the US will drown in a hurricane the size of Katrina^(Andrew) and Australia will dry up and burn like an old cigarette.

And then there are all the animals. You can wave bye-bye to frogs, bees, polar bears and everything larger than a squirrel. All that will be left are parasites and humans eating other humans. It’s a guarantee that something, be it a tape worm or the guy who ran the town’s Appleby’s, will eat you. Soon enough the water will turn into blood , you’ll break out in boils and everyone’s first born will drop dead.

Nuclear Armageddon
Wait, really? Seriously? Nukes? I thought we were done with that once that wall came down in Russia or something. You know, that wall, that really famous wall? Uh, I think Pink Floyd wrote a song about it: Money.

Anyway, since Israel and Palestine can’t play nice, Palestine is going to get big brother Iran and the two forces are going to duke it out in a bare-knuckle nuclear arms fist fight. Of course the whole world can’t just twiddle its thumbs going “do-de-doo. Da-dump-a-dooo…do-do-da dum-dee dooooo…”

USA is going to step up when Iran bombs, and its going to bring its good ol’ drinking buddy Britain. Pakistan’ll be all “pshhhh” and push the button. That’ll piss off India, and Russia doesn’t want to be left out. China will think this is some sort of club so he’ll join and before you know it we’ve bombed ourselves back to the Stone Age. The survivors will be living just like the peoples of the third world who didn’t even fight this war.

China
Those bastards again? If it’s not one thing with them it’s another. This one is a real mystery because no one knows if they’ll take an active or passive roll in killing the planet. No one knows anything about them. Will they simply eat all of earth’s resources or will they launch a disciplined billion xiaolin man army across the globe and conquer us all? Shhh, ancient Chinese secret…

They are also communists, sorta. They’re communist-lite. They sorta have free trade but the government’s a total dick. Boo communists. Let's go back in time 50 years an enact some sort of containment policy. Yeah, that'll work.

Christ and the Rapture
Pfffffffffff yeah right. Um, ‘ello??? ‘Scuse me, but uh, like, he’s already here, m’kay? His name’s Bay-rack O-bam-a and he said “nuh uh” to this whole “end of the world” stuff. He’s gonna like totally save us. Totally. Fer sure.

Aliens
THIS one is possible. And the worst. Let me try to separate truth from fiction for a second here.

According to DC’s primer physicist and intergalactic social anthropologist, um, I forget his name but he bums for change outside Ben’s Chili Bowl on U street, the visitors will have light purple skin, humanoid physique (although details will be purely conjectural) and psychic abilities. He says that because they have mastered light speed travel and/or wormhole powers, they must be smart enough to communicate psychically. Doye.

He said, in between asking late night bar goers for change and cigarettes, that the aliens will instantly destroy the world and 99.8% of all life on it. Boom. Done. Horrible space death ray kills us all. 0.19% will be used for experimentation while the remaining 0.01% will be housed in a giant zoo terrarium. A mini-earth in a dome for alien children to gawk and throw space peanuts at.

To be one of the 650,000 humans to survive he suggests taking a long piece of thin wood like a broom or plunger handle, sticking it up your ass and then waving it at the aliens when they arrive. He says it’s how they show submissiveness on their world and that he’s been practicing every day for when they arrive.

Me
As it was prophesized, so it shall be. My rein as Earth ruler will be steel in strength, fire in resolve, and blood in rite. I will burn this world to the ground, and from the ashes an even greater civilization shall emerge like a glorious Death Phoenix. Forged in my will no man will dare stand against me. My rule will be brutal and divine. Scores shall lay dead before me, as I sit atop the ruins of the Statue of Liberty, now the Throne of Tyranny. No life shall be spared, no prayer shall be heard. No life. No mercy.

…as soon as I get Superman’s powers. That’ll be bitchin’

How to Kill Time and Dispose its Corpse

I’m not talking about “oh hey im at work and its boring, how about you go to this one supercool website on teh intarwebs its called www.borfborfborfborf.com and its what all the kidz are raving about.” No, I’m talking about more dire situations.

Situations where there are no materials. There are no friends, no noises to be made, no freedom. Nothing. You know, church and office meetings and court dates and stuff. A fucking minute in those situations would last five in the real world. The only playground you have left is in your mind, so get lost in it.

“A man’d do just about anything to keep busy” – Shawshank Redemption

Here are some real life accounts of what I have done to fend off the Mongolian hordes of boredom.

Stop Your Own Heart
I always thought it was weird that CPR solved two problems. You do it when someone stops breathing or their heart stops. So…are breathing and heart rates connected? Maaayyybeeee…? I don’t know it’s been a while since 9th grade Bio but whatevs. I closed my eyes and turned them inward, or some other stupid Asian monk phrase. I saw this thing once on discovery channel where this Buddhist monk could slow his heart through meditation. Also, Haji did it once on an episode of The Real Adventures of Johnny Quest. Breath in…and breath out. In…and out. Slowly, you begin to feel your heart thumping in your chest. Breath in…take control of that thump. Open your third eye; reach out of the pupil and squeeze your heart. Feel it slowing, and slowing, and slowing, until it stops.

I passed out and feel out of my chair. Immediately I woke up. Everyone present thought I simply fell asleep and that’s why I fell. Either way it was boredom induced.

Also this one time in 3rd grade I touched the metal part of a big extension chord plug that was hanging out of the socket but still running. We were having story time and it was BOR-ING. That thing zapped the shit out of me, so I wouldn’t be surprised if my heart stopped.

Eye Fuck
This is almost impossible to do unless someone who is at least a 5 is in the same room. Proceed with caution because you will develop a rape face and if you get called out on it you’ll spend the next 5 weeks in sensitivity training listening to some pathetic virgin named Pete use the phrase “inappropriate behavior” every sentence because he’s reading straight out of the goddamn pamphlet the state issued to the teacher of this fucking class.

Touch Yourself
Yyyyyyup.

Shout Inside Your Head
It doesn’t even matter what you’re shouting about. Just do it consistently. Remember, your not shooting for enlightenment here. This shit is not brilliant. You just need to kill time.

“OH MY GOD THIS IS BORING. I CANT BELIEVE I AM HERE DOING THIS BORING ASS THING WHEN I COULD BE FUCKING WATCHING 24 RIGHT NOW OR PLAYING WITH MY DOG. THE FIRST THING IM GOING TO DO WHEN I GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE IS POOP, MICROWAVE SOME PIZZA POCKETS AND THEN…IS THIS GUY STILL FUCKING TALKING?! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH HIM? DOESN’T HE HAVE A LIFE OR A HOBBY OR SOMEWHERE TO BE? IF I COULD BE ANYWHERE RIGHT NOW I WOULD BE IN RIO DEGENARO AND I’D GET ME ONE OF THOSE STREET BURGERS THAT ARE LIKE A PIECE OF FILLET MINON WITH A GRILLED PINEAPPLE SLICE ON TOP. HOLY SHIT THAT SOUNDS SOOO FUCKING GOOD RIGHT NOW.”

Name Generators

These are fun, but not too much fun. Like Mad Libs or dirty knock-knock jokes. We don’t want to go nuts here with all the raw humor flying off the screen.

Name Generators are a simple enough concept. You take a series of facts about you and combine them in ways that represent the identity you are trying to create for yourself. What? Did that sentence even make sense? I don’t know, I don’t re-write or spell check.

Here’s an example. Your Star Wars name is the first 3 letters of your last name and the first 2 letters of your first name. Mine’s Reima.

Reima…That’s the name of some old Jamaican lady I work with.

Star Wars sucks.

Or how about this! Your porn star name. Whoa ho! Hey-o! Combine your first pet’s name with the first neighborhood you ever lived in. Call me Elvis Golfcourse and I’m here to get biss-aye!

*fartzz*

I can do better than that.

Terrorist Name
First: “Turn on CNN – the first dark person you see’s first name” or “Mohamed”.
Middle: “Your Mom’s maiden name spelled backwards” or “Mohamed”
al
Last: “Any one of Barack Hussein Obama’s names” or “Mohamed”

Mine: Mohamed Mohamed al Mohamed

Native American Name
First: “John” or “David”
Last: “Any adjective/participle you would use to describe an elephant”
Last: “Go outside – the first thing you see”

Mine: David Stomping Tree

Black (“Ghetto”) Name
Nickname: “A cleaning product” or “Lil’”
First: “Your dad’s first name”
Last: “Any president’s last name except Obama”
Last: “Brown” or “Cotton”

Mine: “Lysol” Robert Clinton Brown

Gay 80’s Rockstar Name
First: “Your first name but with y/ie tacked on the end”
Last: “An element from the periodic table”

Mine: Marky Gold

19th Century Industrialist Name
First: “A name from the Bible”
Middle: “A town in Maine” or “A town in Oregon”
Last: “A town in Great Britain”

Mine: Isaac Thorndike Grimsby

Superhero Name
Name: “Go to an ethnic neighborhood like Chinatown, Little Italy or a straight up Ghetto. Walk around. Try talking to locals. The first word in English you understand, that’s your superhero name. Add man/woman if needed”

Mine: Stupid Man

My Own Creation Myth

First, there was nothing.

From the Great Abyss emerged the mother of all creation; clad in hood and cowl, dark as the perpetual night she was from, and known only as Bahtmawn.

Bahtmawn had 3 sons, and then returned to the shadows of nothingness, promising to fight crime, no more, forever.

The first son was God. He was put in charge of everything he saw before him. All he saw was a vast empty universe and his two brothers.

“This existence needs a little spice. I can do better than Bahtmawn,” announced God.

“What’s spice?” asked the second brother, Bad God.

“What’s spice? I’ll show you what the fuck spice is! Go to Hell!” And so, God created a Hell and banished Bad God to live there, forever. And yay, t’was a good day, thus spoketh God.

“Alllll right! Time to play Sims Existence.”

God went over to his third brother, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure of Turtles in Time samurai Leonardo, and placed him in the microwave, which he just invented. Into the microwave God also placed a can of hairspray and a potato.

The entire concoction exploded. The parts that remained on fire became the suns and stars of our universe. The parts that didn’t became the planets and moons. And yay, t’was a good day, thus spoketh God.

God found one planet. It was favored by God above all other planets. He created a pair of beings in his image, and he favored them above all other creatures. He made them mate and made them masters over all the beasts of the planet.

For millennia God watched over and cared for this planet, ensuring peace and prosperity; a true utopia.

“This is gay,” said God. He sent down that virus from 28 Days Later and watched the carnage unfold. When that got boring, he sent an asteroid the size of Texas. Finally, he picked up the whole damn thing and chucked it into a Supergiant. And yay, t’was a good day, thus spoketh God.

“Making a real fucked up planet should be funny,” mused God.

On the planes of an ordinary planet, God created the first man. His name was Jeff Goldblum.

“Jeff, this is your planet.”

“What the fuck was that?! Who’s talking?!” shouted Jeff Goldblum.

“Jeff, I’m God. I like just created you.”

“Yo.”

“Yo, Jeff.”

Silence filled the space between God and Jeff Goldblum.

“So…um. You should take a day or two to look around, you know, get used to life and whatever. And uh, if you need anything, just sort of shout it, I guess. Yeah, I’ll hear it.”

“’kay.”

“…well…okay. See ya, Jeff.”

“See ya, God.”

A day passed.

“God? Hey, God!”

“What is it, Jeff?”

“I’m hungry.”

God created a Wendy’s Baconator Burger and gave it to Jeff Goldblum. “Eat as many as you can; grow fat on them and you shall be happy.” Jeff Goldblum did. And yay, t’was a good day, thus spoketh God.

The next day Jeff Goldblum spoke to God again.

“God, I’m horny. I just finished reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban in the series and I gotta say, I’m really fucking randy right now. Do you think you can, you know, materialize Hermione for me?”

“Whatever.”

A bolt of lightning struck the book and in its place was a 15 year old Harry Potter standing before Jeff Goldblum.

“God, that’s not what I wanted. God? Hey, God?!” But God was no longer listening to Jeff Goldblum. He looked over to Harry Potter.

“Meh,” he shrugged. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

What a terrible night for Harry Potter. The forced sex, the beatings, the partially digested Baconator Jeff Goldblum threw up on his back when Jeff Goldblum got motion sick from sodomizing Harry Potter.

The next morning Jeff Goldblum left the cave to go kill something for shits and giggles. Harry eventually rose. He didn’t remember much. He didn’t remember last night – his subconscious blocked his memory. Gone were his memories of Hogwarts, his friends, his life.

Harry Potter stumbled over to the river. He glanced at his own reflection. Across his face was a wide, redish-brownish mark. Was it blood? Excrement? Both? In his daze, Harry Potter tried wiping it off.

“Erase…mark. Erase…mark.”

Jeff Goldblum returned. He was carrying a dead rabbit with a broken neck and a turtle who’s shell was completely caved in.

“Erase…mark. Erase…mark,” Harry Potter was still mumbling.

“What are you saying?” Asked Jeff Goldblum. “Mark Reiss?”

“Erase…mark. Erase…mark.”

“Is that your new name, Mark Reiss? Mark Reiss? Mark Reiss. Ok, Mark Reiss, let’s get going. I have a busy day of killing things and fucking the shit out of you.”

And yay, t’was a good day, thus spoketh God.

(Just in case you forgot this joke the first time I told it)

Manhood Rites of Passage Around the World

I remember the exact moment I realized I had become a man. It wasn’t when I was 12 and I had just finished my bar-mitzva. Nor was it when I was 17 and lost my virginity. It wasn’t when I was 18 and I received a draft notice from the government. And it certainly wasn’t when I was 18 and got drunk for the first time.

No, it was much more special than that.

It was when I was 21 and I was standing in Federal Court. The judge said, “Mr. Reiss you are being tried as an adult, do you understand?” Why, actually, yes. Yes I do understand. I’m allllll man!”

Of course, along with being a man came a year long jail sentence and a $5,000 fine if convicted (didn’t!). But that’s what growing up is all about. You move from “little high, little low” to “high, deep fucking low”. Hey, Peter Pan! It’s time to put on the big-boy pants and grow the fuck up.

Imbalu Circumcision Party
Age: 18-21
You know when a little Jewish baby gets circumcised it’s usually when they are still covered in mom-juices? Like, they are that fresh? Or they wait like a week so the child can wear nice clothes for the Moil and start learning the concepts of expectations and disappointment? Well the Imbalu, which is a tribe in Africa, let the boys’ penis age like salt-cured meat. This thing is like a festival; the whole tribe comes out with music, BBQ goats, dirt rituals, and booze. For 3 days this party goes on while the boy tries to not psyche himself out. If he can face the knife, aka, have a middle aged dude fondle your junk with a knife, without showing any fear, you are a man. If you show fear during the process, you’re still a man but you are, as the Imbalu call it, a “he-bitch”.

Jewish Bar-Mitzva
Age: 12-13
The myth about bar-mitzvas is that once done, you are a man in the community. Fact is, once you’re done, you’re still the same rights-less adolescent you were but now you have $4,000 to fund running away and joining a Canadian circus. Although, because of the heavy emphasis placed on learning and responsibility at such a young age (it takes years to prep for this thing), it is the reason why Jews have historically been intelligent and invented world-altering things like communism, modern psychology, jeans, polio vaccines, Jesus Christ, and the concept of humor.

Boston Hot Wing Challenge
Age: “Oh you think you’re old enough, huh?”
The challenge is simple: eat 10 devil wings, made with the hottest pepper in the world the Indian Naga Jolokia pepper, and claim immortality on the Wall of Flame. Like most manhood tests, this one amounts to nothing more than a retarded frat-stunt. Who can do the dumbest, most painful thing ever without flinching? “I can, ya wicked pansy. Now hit me in the face with that frickin’ ahm-chehah. GO SOX!” *whack*

Themyscira Sex Change Operation
Age: Puberty or like around 25 when you start getting those “feelings”
For those of you who aren’t dorks, Themyscira is the home island of Wonder Woman and the Amazons. It has strict guidelines and rules of conduct and honor, namely that men are forbidden from even walking on the island, which makes things hard when one sister realizes she’s actually a man trapped in a woman’s body. Man, I wish I was trapped in a woman’s body that would be fun as shit. Oh sure, they can have the surgery, no prob. But they are forever banished from their home and are to leave in disgrace. So, it’s like every other person who’s ever had a sex change. Or hell, gay. Carry your burden like a man!

Russian Bear Fighting
Age: 10
Leave it to Russians to take something as simple and care-free as bullfighting and warp it into something a million times more fucked up and therefore cooler. I was taught as part of the cultural aspects of Spain in Spanish class that bullfighting is like this one huge show of manly bravado. You lure in the beast, make it dance around, and stick swords in it until either you or the bull dies. Ok, take that, replace the bull with a 900lb bear, the swords with a knife (not knives; A knife) and the man is a boy. The best strategy is to not attack the bear but to bait it around until the 2 hour time limit is up. But if the boy does manage to kill it…instant manhood. Manhood on tap. Plus he gets a cool nickname for life like Yefim the Quick or Aleksei the Unpredictable. Oh yeah, before I forget, there is a branch of PETA established in Russia but all members have about as much status and prominence in the country as 15th century slave women.

Sicilian Rave in the Cave
Age: 14-16
A drugless, 2 day rave may seem brutal on its own because 1) only drugs can provide that kind of endurance and 2) ew, rave music, but compound the fact that kids are raving in popular body-disposal sites for the mafia and things take on an edge of abandon. Although you don’t need to do this to be a man in Sicily, you do if want the slightest hope of getting laid in high school.

Pacific North West Salmon Spawn
Age: 1-5
In every young salmon’s life, there comes a time where you cast off the luxurious life of a deep sea salmon and take on the brutal life and responsibilities of a spawning salmon. Salmon salmon salmon. Salmon! If you can survive the hundreds of miles swimming upstream, fighting starvation, exhaustion, bears, and Eskimos, your sexy prize is fertilizing eggs in what is probably the exact same spot your parents conceived you. Congratulations. You are a man. Now you may die.

Magic v. Science

What an age we live in. The other day I was watching Israel launch new missiles into Gaza on TV while I was on Adderall and I was like, “My God, science is awesome!” How else can you explain watching flying metal, exploding eggs half the world away…on Adderall? It’s science! Soon I walked over to the kitchen and microwaved a burrito. I caught myself wishing I had a caveman friend just so I could show him this mundane shit and completely blow his mind.

I love science, I truly do. It is my bread and butter. Top 3 channels I watch on TV are Discovery Channel, Comedy Central, and Oxygen.

But I got to thinking. Science is like what magic was in the middle-ages (and parts of the present 3rd world). It is the every-day miracle maker. One has to be better than the other. Or, who would win in a fight, Harry Potter or Dexter?

Shrinking
The standard test of one’s practicality; who can shrink something the fastest and smallest? Magic steps up to the plate with a shrinking potion. It looks like neon-green Pepto and tastes like rancid Caribbean food. Hmm. I noticed that, on top of being unpleasant as hell, you only shrink down to the size of a mouse and you’re naked. Sure, this is perfect spying-on-the-girls-changing-room size; not to big too be seen easily and not too small to be eaten by spiders, but you are totally fucked if there’s a cat around. You’re also creepy for being a little naked gnome running around and jerking off to voyeur stuff. Being eaten alive by a lazy creature named Mittens, screaming, and in the nude is not how I want to leave this plane of existence. What the fuck are you going to do, fight a cat with a needle-sword and bottle cap-shield? Also, how do you expect to get bigger? That requires another potion and this whole thing starts to look like a huge hassle for a bunch of bullshit.

Ah, the shrink ray - A simplistic combination of reverse-photon axiums, flux polarization quantum decay, and a gun. Not only can organic material shrink, but anything can shrink to any size. Perfect for the submarine you plan on sailing through your friend’s blood-stream and spying on girls in the changing room. Ever wanted to know what an atom looked like close up? Actually, don’t go that far. You’ll fall through existence. Returning to normal size is a breeze. Just flip the switch and its no muss, no fuss.

Science wins, hands down.

Ghost Suppression /Removal
Ghosts are all over the place. It’s like you can’t go anywhere these days without tripping over one of the damn things. I don’t know if people are dying more violently in 2009 or if Hell is just too damn crowded but this is starting to be a really spooky problem. They’re always wailing, and crying and breaking things. And you can’t hit them. Having a ghost problem is like having a baby. I’ve been calling the Ghostbusters for years and they have always done a clean, professional job. Sure, I have to tack paperweights to everything when they turn on their nuclear powered proton packs because those things turn my living room into a fucking wind tunnel, but, nowadays, shit. New head of the union Bob Strickland has made the Ghostbusting union impossible to operate efficiently because he’s a crooked son of a bitch so now I have to wait 2 fucking days to get a fucking ghost removed from my attic. And forget about possessions. I once asked a ‘buster to shoot my possessed niece and he was like, “naw, can’t. Union regulations won’t let us do that no more since that 8 year old died that one time.”

Magic has ghost removal down to a science. It’s so easy that even light magic users like priests can perform exorcisms. They’re cheaper too. Instead of going to the agency I’m going to go over and visit my neighbor Hector next time I have a ghost. For $10 or a 6-pack of Modelo he’s going to lay down some of his Mexican/Catholic/Indian fusion chants and ghost-proof my house for 3 years. No warrantee needed. He also says he knows how to put up dry wall and install plumbing. I assume it’s because he’s magic and not Mexican. Magic Mexicans.

This round goes to magic.

Transportation
There are two types of transportation; commercial and personal. I’m going to forgo commercial transportation because both magic and science are tied in this field. Sure, being able to magically appear a freight ship of Chinese crap into L.A. harbor is pretty cool, but there’s something undeniably awesome about inter-galactic travel at light speed. Shit, earth-bound magic doesn’t even come close to that kind of range.

Personal use. Stuff like going down to the corner store or visiting friends on the other coast. This one is going to come down to the nitty gritty since both are fun. You can teleport there. Star Trek-like phasing would be cool but you don’t want to go in with another animal and walk out with a spider for a head (not a spider-head; a whole spider for a head). But science also has stargates and inter-dimensional wormholes. Let’s get smaller. Magic has brooms and winged bathtubs and beds with huge, walking legs, and mythical creatures to ride. Sidenote: if you like riding brooms you are either a gay biker or a woman because, wait, I shouldn’t need to explain the symbolism of grabbing on tightly to a huge, flying phallic symbol. Paging Dr. Freud. Science has hover boots, hover cars, hover boards and genetic super creatures to ride. This category will come down to this: magic carpet v. jetpack.

I’m afraid I have to give this one to magic again. While the jetpack has unbeatable speed, it is cumbersome to store, to refill and your pants catch on fire 1 out of 5 times. With the carpet you get the range, the durability, a reasonable speed, plus it can carry multiple people. This is perfect for showing off to an Arab princess (you later fuck on the carpet, thus joining the mile high club).

Murder
Magic is at a disadvantage here. Sure, it is totally possible to murder someone using magic. There is dark magic, after all. But good always triumphs over evil, and sad to say, murdering is evil. Well, in this country murdering is. Also, magic is sort of limited to how you can kill someone. Yeah, there are poison apples and flamethrowing magic wands, but all that stuff calls for summoning forces of nature to do the dirty work for you. “Oh no! Where’d all these scorpions come from?! Look at all these fucking scorpions! I’m going to die from scorpion st- oh no a tiger! I’m going to be mauled to death by a tiger! What is a tiger doing here in the middle of Detroi- oh no! a dragon! wh-“ ok, stop. That’s not cool. That’s watching Animal Planet for a week.

There is no such thing as a dark scientist, only mad scientists. Have you ever been high and drawn something? When you sober up and look at it you’re like “Man, I will never come up with anything that crazy ever again.” Mad scientists are like that. There’s a whole cornucopia of ways to kill another human being: bone melting rays, sounds that kill, mutated rabies virus, mini black-hole creators, doomsday devices, etc. This is the kicker. Magic can’t really wipe entire cities off the map. Sure, you can summon (what’s with all the fucking summoning?) Merciclades, the Gate Keeper of Hell, and have him tear-ass through Tokyo, but you gotta collect the 9 ancient relics of Masidonia and perform the blood ritual on top of Mt. Jakritha on the night Mercury is in the 7th house and blah blah. Fuck all that. When America needed a fucking A-bomb we fucking made 2 of them, on time and under budget, and bombed Japan back into the motherfucking radioactive stone age. Fuck yes.

Science: brining world peace through atomic terror

Court
All rise for the honorable Judge Reiss. In the case of Magic v. Science, let it be shown that the two are equally tied. To decide once and for all which is better, a debate will be held. We will here opening statements by Magic, then Science. Then counter arguments. And finally, closing statements. Mr. Magic, you may proceed.

Thank you, your honor. My friends, magic has been with us since the dawn of civilization. It is a part of who we are, our identity. Early shamans learned to use the forces of nature to benefit us as a species. There is magic all around us. Plants with special properties, animals of the forest serve us as spirit guides. Even the 4 elements, aligned in the 4 cardinal directions, can predict everything from astronomical events to when you will die. My friends, magic, is real.

Yo fuck this motherfucker. That gay ass shit ain’t even real, son. Word. Ah ah ah holdup holdup. This nigga be sayin’ he be predictin’ the moon an’ shit. That’s some jive bullshit, son. It ain’t no mystery. I got numberz, son. Shit son niggaz be walkin’ on the moon. Ya heard? Moon walkin’ all up in the motherfucker an’ shit. Ya feel me?

Can you honestly take this man seriously? He is about as refined and sophisticated as a barbarian orc.

Nigga I get results. ‘Splodin’ shit an’ bombs an’ shit. Runnin’ crew, street lyfe, ya feel me?

I implore this impartial jury to use logic. By Merlin’s beard may you open your eyes and see the light. Magic is and forever will be humanities saving grace. Thank you.

Yo you vote for this gay ass nigga you be gay. That’s science. Word.

It is the opinion of this court that in the case of Magic v. Science, we find Science to be the winner on the grounds that 1) science is a ubiquitous testament to the ingenuity of our species, 2) science is directly responsible for the increased standard of living and longevity of life and 3) magic isn’t real.

*pictured above: Zantanna v. Batgirl

Pandora Is Appropriately Named (So Are the Bands)

In case you’re over 40 or just plain old hate music now, Pandora is an online radio station that plays only music that you want to listen to. Thank God. Seriously. Go to your place or worship and thank Him. It is about fucking time. I can’t stress that enough. Have you listened to radio lately? Yeesh. I just happened to go over to DC101’s website and, no joke, this is the top 10 list of requested songs:

“Love Hurts” – Incubus
“Second Chance” – Shinetown
“I Don’t Care” – Apocalyptica
“Decode” – Paramore
“You’re Gonna Go Far Kid” – Offspring
“Breakdown” – Seether
“Feel Good Drag” – Anberlin
“ReEducation (Through Labor)” – Rise Against
“18 Days” – Saving Abel Stripped
“Troublemaker” – Weezer

Man, I really hope they have Stone Temple Pilots’ new hit single. Aside from this being a collection of horribly repetitive shit rock, I thought Incubus and Offspring died like a decade ago. What is this, 1997? I think I saw both of those bands when I went to HFStival for the first time. I was 12.

Ok, I’m not going to sit here and type up why music sucks. It’s totally subjective and makes me sound like a pretentious asshole. Writing music and performing it well is incredibly hard, so the angry rant of a failed musician like me means jack shit. If you like these bands, fine.

But why do the names have to suck? Are they taking themselves seriously, are they named ironically, or did the label change their name from “Worm Eaters” to “Jake Young and the New Rejects” because Worm Eaters just isn’t cost effective?

We are going to play a new game. Right now, I’m listening to Pandora and one thing they don’t have a shortage of is bands I’ve never heard of playing songs that I’m really starting to like. I’ll make a list of band names. Some will be taken straight from Pandora, and some will be what I think of after I stare at the light bulb directly above my head for 10 seconds. Sounds like fun? Ok here we go.

K.G.B.
Jerry Jerry
Walter Walter
Hotpipes
Inside You
Morricone Youth
Lovecraft’s Pen
The Mountain Goats

K.G.B. – Real. I guess if you want to go for notoriety, naming your ska band after evil secret police organizations is the way to go. Keep an ear out for hot newcomers “SS”, “Ministry of Love” and “The CIA Disappeared Me”

Jerry Jerry – Fake. Go the idea from a Kids in the Hall sketch were two lunatics who escaped from an asylum wandered around in bathrobes and female wigs, price tags still attached, doing lunatic things. The “sisters” would constantly refer to one another as Jerry.

Walter Walter – Real. Great band, and their song “Ask” is really cool. This does not help my argument that I am in fact not a hipster, scenester indie nerd. I swear to god I like the outdoors and have redneck friends.

Hotpipes – Real. You know how there are a ton of songs out there about weed? People love weed, write songs about it, but there are no crackhead songs. That’s because a crackhead, instead of writing a song, would much rather be smoking crack. A crackhead song would just be like, “Crack crack crack crack crack crack…” If there was a crackhead band, this is what their name would be. (This joke shamelessly stolen, bastardized and paraphrased from local DC comic John McBride).

Inside You – Fake. I hope. I just know, from the pit in my stomach, that there’s really shitty band in Orlando Florida right now (hahaha which one? *rimshot*) that’s actually named this. And that makes me sad. Well not sad. Just really, really, fucking depressed.

Morricone Youth – Real. What the hell is a Morricone? Google says it’s the last name of an Oscar winning composer. Which makes sense since these guys can harmonize like twins. There’s something about a band that takes the time to compose something worth while that’s so refreshing. I’d laugh my ass off it didn’t involve him at all.

Lovecraft’s Pen – Fake. Thank God. A band that plays speed metal songs about Cthulhu sounds like a great idea, in theory. In theory, communism works. In theory.

The Mountain Goats - Real. The question is not "is this a real band or not", but "why is this a real band?"

“I Am So, So, Sorry” – A Letter

Dear Judge Reinhold,

I don’t know if you remember who I am exactly. This is Travis Barker from down the street; George and Diane’s son? We were neighbors for 12 years but we never really talked. Well, the reason for this letter is that I have recently become a Level 4 member of the Church of Scientology and as part of my initiation I need to cleanse myself as much as possible. What my Guide suggested is that I confess all my sins to those I hurt and ask for forgiveness, so here it goes.

There are a lot of stupid pranks I pulled on your house as a kid. Remember that flaming bag of dog poop you stomped out? And how your house was egged almost every week that one summer? I had NOTHING to do with that. I’m the one responsible for sticking your running garden hose through your mail slit in the door and that time you came home from vacation and every one of your windows was broken.

I am so, so sorry for killing Checkers. That was me. It was an honest mistake. I was driving home day, and I had just got back from the school bleachers where Kenny, Steve-O, Buttly and I would get stoned. I was stoned. Really, really, stoned (hey, just one more alien demon I needed to exercise out of me, am I right?) I swear Checkers came out of nowhere. I was so freaked out that I hit it that when I backed up to get a better look I had no idea I was running over him a second time but much slower. But what I really regret is how I panicked and threw his body over your fence and drove off.

How’s Jessica doing at that convent up in the mountains? I know you sent her there after you found out she was pregnant. Did she keep the baby? This one is kind of important since, well, it was/is mine. Well, I’m pretty sure it is, unless your daughter got around way more than what she let me believe. I mean, she told me that I was her first, which I believe because how many 13 year olds have sex? She was always such a nice girl. I’m so glad she didn’t rat me out; that would have totally messed up Junior Prom. But it’s time I came clean; I’m the one who stole the ceramic lawn gnome Jessica bought for you. I really am sorry. It was immature of me.

What I hope you understand is that it wasn’t really me doing all those horrible things; it was the alien ghosts living inside me. That and the drugs. They were in complete contrast to the survival of my 8 dynamics. Fortunately, I have successfully removed 35% of the Thetans inside me thanks to the wonderful work done at the Church of Scientology. If you ever want to have a free stress test or auditing, I don’t have a phone anymore. But you can contact me through the church’s Minnesota branch and ask for L4-TBdv5. It’s sorta like a P.O. box for my soul.

Sincerely,

Travis “L4-TBdv5” Barker

Your Sexual Fetish Sucks

So you’re thinking “What? I don’t have a fetish. When me and my life partner choose to have intercourse it is always mom and pop, meat and potatoes, missionary sex.” Well you suck because you’re a boring Archie Bunker who’s close minded and thinks pizza is exotic, ethnic food. You’re so bland I could puke.

You suck for screwing in public. I hate public toilets and Wal-Mart enough as it is (don’t get me started on the toilets in Wal-Mart) but I don’t want to worry about my hand catching a case of the clap every time I touch a door knob. Christ, you two aren’t junkyard dogs. Have some freaking decorum. How hard is it to just wait until you reach your car and do it there like the rest of civilized humanity?

You suck for being gay. Um…ever hear of a little thing called THE BIBLE? Or…GOD? Well, in THE BIBLE, GOD clearly says that gays are the brides of Satan. What are you trying to do, make GOD cry? You dick. I have a personal relationship with GOD and he tells me all his problems. Guess what? GOD thinks you suck.

You suck for having multiple partners. Aside from being a wanton whore *coughslutcough* you are guilty of conspicuous consumption. There are plenty of perfectly nice, homely looking girls who need sex just as much and you’re creating an unbalanced dick-trading gap in the sex market. How many dicks do you need in you before you finally fill the hole in your heart? (Same question for guys, but it starts “how many holes do you need to fill before _”)

You suck for being into ethnic chicks. What, are whites not good enough for you anymore? It worked perfectly fine for your parents, your parents’ parents, your parents’ parents’ parents, and so forth until they were brown or black or whatever. Then it was whitez-4-eva. In case you haven’t realized this is an Obama-nation; we are officially post-race. You’re supposed to look past someone’s skin color because we are all pink on the inside. And if you can’t see that, well, you’re a fucking racist and you suck.

You suck for being into that leather S&M stuff. First off, do you know how many cows had to die to make the leather for your full-body black leather leotard with the removable crotch and the matching boots and riding crop? Two. If you like to be the one giving the pain you suck because you’re getting off of hurting people. You know who else does that? Bullies. ‘Nuff said. And you can’t possibly win if you receive the pain. If you're a knamby-pamby about it and wear shit like knee pads then you are officially a pansy. If you go balls deep, literally, and have to break a finger to get off then…shit. Just don’t talk to me, weirdo.

You suck for wanting to have sex with animals. Species traitor. Right, I’m sure that’s exactly what a horse wants; for you to sneak up behind it and stick your tiny, gray, unused dink into it. Yeah, that’s right. Break up the monotony of that poor creature’s day. I hope when you’re in the hay snuggling with that two-ton creature it rolls over and crushes you. Ignoring all horrible bone-puns, you suck for wanting to sleep with a dog. Those things hump enough as it is. You’re not supposed to encourage that sort of behavior.

You suck for being a pedophile. I don’t care that you’re a Libertarian and trying to justify your crippling loneliness by saying that children used to get married all the time back in the middle ages up to the 18th century so you’re just “keeping with tradition”. Or don’t give me that argument that 9 year olds totally can give consent for sex. Fuck. You. Suck shit out of dicks in Hell forever.

You suck for having a balloon fetish. Wait, such a thing exists? Yeah. It’s like jacking off with an inflated balloon. Oh…kay…well, um. I’m sure that rubber squeaking noise is pretty horrid. Like when you take one and rub it the entire length of your body and it’s like scratching a black board. I hope one day you’re humping the living shit out of a balloon and it pops [insert your own reasons why here]. So you look up at the sky and sob, “Why does everyone I love leave me!?” ‘cause guess what? Ducks eat popped balloon bits and die. Ass.

10 Best Sports Mascots/Franchises

Washington Bullets (Basketball)
Did you know that the movie Robocop, instead of taking place in Detroit, almost took place in DC? Word is that the producers were trying to decide which city was the absolute shittiest in the country in terms of crime and public safety (ideal stomping grounds for a cyborg law enforcement officer) and Detroit won out only because like some huge robbery or shooting took place the week the execs finally decided. But that’s not supposed to detract from DC’s history as the murder capitol of the world. It was refreshing to see a city really embrace is violent history and tradition (that’s why everyone was pissed when they changed to the Wizards. Gheeeeey).

Toronto Raptors (Basketball)
Bill Watterson said it best when he described dinosaurs as such; “These things truly were the stuff of nightmares.” Haven’t you ever seen Jurassic Park? Not the second one, Lost World, where raptors could be taken out with some impromptu gymnastics. In the first movie, those were the scariest motherfuckers ever. Fast, intelligent, slashing, murdering, violent psychopaths, those are the perfect words to describe any first-rate athlete. Too bad they got stuck to a team like Toronto. Oh Hell, any Canadian team.

Harlem Globetrotters (Basketball)
I don’t know what the Hell a globetrotter is, but following in the 70’s/80’s trend of naming things after combining “a thing” with “a mode of moving”, such as Luke Skywalker and Bladerunner, it seems to be a sure fire shortcut straight into badassery. Have they ever even lost a game? I’m not sure, but what I do know is that they’ve appeared on everything from Futurama to The New Scooby Doo Movies (which, now, are quite fucking old).

Spartans, Sparta (War)
I tend to interpret historic movies like 300 as a 100% true depiction of life back then. Like, fuck archeologists. You know what they do? They go through the crap lost cultures left behind and then guess what they did, based on that stuff. They fucking guess. No. I’m not going to do that. I get shit done. Just like the Spartans. I’m going to dive right into the biased pages of Persian history and take it on all by myself. Just like Spartans. The Spartans were these buff oily men who fought shit like immortals and mutant rhinos. They were so good at what they did that they would be forever immortalized as the mascots of half of the high school football teams in America (the other half being the Wildcats). Let’s say you’re the QB for your team (the, haha, Saxons) and you’re playing the Spartans. What do you do? Quit, that’s what. Save yourself the shame.

Air Bud, the Air Bud movies (Various)
It’s one thing for a team to suck and then adopt a bitchin’ mascot to stir up confidence and to really rally behind (e.g. Might Ducks), but it is a totally different thing to suck so bad that your mascot has to come in and carry your sorry ass to the pee-wee league championship. Air Bud does it all; he plays basketball, football, soccer, baseball, beach volleyball, sled running, Australian Rules Football, and I’m pretty sure that motherfucker can now talk and pilot a space shuttle.

Montreal Canadians/Vancouver Canucks (Hockey)
“So, we got the players, the drive, and the talent. What should we name our team?”
“You know, let’s not beat around the bush. We’re Canadians, we play hockey; it’s what we do. Let’s call ourselves the Canadians/Canucks.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little redundant?”
“You think so? Maybe we should call ourselves the Montreal/Vancouver Hockey Players?”
“Canadians/Canucks is fine.”

University of Northern Colorado Fightin’ Whites (Intramural Basketball)
This one is awesome for 2 very good reasons. First of all, this UNC team, comprised of Native Americans, Whites, and Latinos, created the mascot as a big “fuck you” to all sports teams that use racist stereotypes of Native Americans as their mascot. Hey alright. Cool. The second reason this is a great mascot is, well, can you honestly think of another race on Earth that has dominated so hard, been so feared and so hated for so long? Perfect. Sports. Mascot. When I watch sports teams play, I like to stage imaginary fights between the mascots in my head. Like when the Broncos play the Colts, or Seahawks play the Eagles. It’s fun to see which one would actually win. In every scenario, whites win.

Athena and Phevos, 2004 Summer Olympics - Athens, Greece (Olympics)
Ahahaha, just kidding. These things fucking sucked. What pieces of shit. Stupid ass Greeks and their stupid ass ideas. Shitheads. Just look at those things. Haha

Phillie Phanatic, Philadelphia Phillies (Baseball)
My roommate freshmen year of college was obsessed with this guy. It’s not like he had posters of him or kept a goldfish named Phanatic, but this mascot was his funny go-to reference that he would spout out a-fucking-lot. The Phillie Phanatic, Howie Mandel, and a bunch of repetitive shit from the 80’s, that’s what he espoused. He was annoying, but not terrible. Rooming with him was like having a popcorn kernel stuck in your teeth. He had the personality of oatmeal. His name was also Mark, but thank God he stood at about 5 foot nothing, so he got the nickname “Little Mark” and I was known as “Tall Mark”. He bugged the shit out of me but when all was said and done, he wasn’t a bad person. I did feel bad for him when he died in a grease fire.

Pepito, MS-13 (Gang)
The Mara Salvatrucha is a scary ass gang of Salvadorians, Hondurans, Nicaraguans and Guatemalans that take part in numerous acts of drug trafficking, human trafficking, grand theft auto, home invasion and contract killing. While these acts are not considered “traditional” sports, they are the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 fastest growing youth-oriented after school activities in America. So it’s really refreshing that MS-13 has a sense of humor with itself. Pepito looks like a cross between Speedy Gonzales and the Frito Bandito. Sporting a large sombrero, handlebar mustache, bullet belt, sandals, and a ’65 Chevy Impala, this precocious scamp can easily be seen as any MS-13 gang members’ little brother.