you know – for christmas.
i think i’m the only person in the entire world who likes this.
Focus – Hocus Pocus
they don’t make ’em like this anymore…
Matt & Kim – Yea Yeah
cuz matt & kim rule.
Cock & Ball Torture – Aphrodisianus
this isn’t really that good. whatever.
Young @ Heart – Sonic Youth’s “Schizophrenia”
this will make your brain asplode.
Fight Scene From John Carpenter’s They Live
my new favorite fight scene from my new favorite movie.
Cripple Fight – South Park
an homage to my new favorite fight scene from my new favorite movie.
Anshe Chung Gets Wanged In Second Life
some context here and here and here. i totally did this like a year ago. sort of.
SNL Digital Short – Dick In A Box
heh. dick in a box.
A Eulogy For Saparmurat Niyazov, The Former Authoritarian President Of Turkmenistan Who I Had Never Heard Of Until About 10 O’Clock This Morning.
When I heard this morning that Saparmurat Niyazov had died of a heart attack, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Dead?” I thought to myself, “Saparmurat? Could this really be happening? And if so, who is he? I’ve never heard of him before.”
Saparmurat always thought of Turkmenistan as one of his own children. Maybe as his only child – I’m not really sure if he had children. I think I remember something about that from the BBC, but I’m not sure about the exact details. He thought of Turkmenistan as a child, one way or another, and a child needs to be nurtured, and nurture he did from the very first day of his Presidency (which was a day some time within the last hundred years) to the day he died (which was yesterday, I think). The country will never be the same. Or maybe it will be. I’m not totally sure what’s going to happen over there, or where “over there” is, exactly. I think it’s pretty close to Russia.
The BBC report said that Saparmurat once banned hospitals. That was the kind of guy he was – always joking around, or attempting to ensure painful and drawn-out disease and death for his subjects. There was another thing they mentioned that he once banned, but I forget what it was. Their police force, maybe? Food? I can’t remember, exactly. Whatever it was, it was CLASSIC Saparmurat. You should really google it and try to figure it out. It will provide you with a deeper understanding of who Saparmurat Niyazov really was, just like the deep understanding I momentarily possessed while listening to a radio report about his death earlier this morning.
Can You Watch This Entire Music Video?
The Best Patents Of All Time.
Google Patents is my new best friend. There are over 7 million patents to sift through, and as far as I can tell at least 5 million of them are completely ridiculous. Here’s a handful of my favorites so far.
I love the internet.
PATENT NAME: Flatulence Deodorizer
PATENT NUMBER: 6313371
WHAT IS CLAIMED: “A pad to be worn by a user for absorbing gas due to flatulence.”
MARKETABILITY: Pretty high, apparently.
WHY IT RULES: Because Figure 1 is one of the most amazing fucking pictures I have ever seen in my entire life.
PATENT NAME: Villain Execution Toy
PATENT NUMBER: D483080
WHAT IS CLAIMED: “The ornamental design for a villain execution toy, as shown.”
MARKETABILITY: Probably fairly high when the patent was filed back in 2003. Less so now, considering the target demographic for a “Villain Execution Toy” probably forgot all about Osama Bin Laden by the end of the first episode of “Deal or No Deal.”
WHY IT RULES: Other than the fact that they call it a “toy,” it’s completely ambiguous what this “toy” actually does. The inventor’s million dollar idea was a toy that somehow involves Osama Bin Laden in an electric chair. Fuck it – patent that shit! Also, the file contains a reference to Patent #D135280 – “Design For A Pin Cushion” by Charles P. Englebarflt back in 1942. Ol’ Chucky E. beat this clown to the punch by 60 years.
PATENT NAME: Monkey Herpes B Virus Genes
PATENT NUMBER: 5767265
WHAT IT CLAIMS: “1. A substantially pure form of a DNA sequence of heroes simian monkey B virus comprising (SEQ ID NO:4:), said DNA coding for a gB glycoprotein comprising (SEQ ID NO:6:) and a polypeptide comprising (SEQ ID NO:5:).
2. A gB glycoprotein of herpes simian monkey B virus comprising (SEQ ID NO:6:).
3. A recombinant DNA molecule comprising:
a) a substantially pure DNA sequence of herpes simian monkey B virus comprising (SEQ ID NO:4:); and
b) a vector for introducing the DNA sequence into a host cell.”
MARKETABILITY: Depends on the price.
WHY IT RULES: Because when your college-educated, 1984-reading ass heard that corporations were starting to patent DNA you were picturing hordes of identical humans with barcodes on the backs of their necks. You never once thought to yourself, “Hey, wait – what about monkey herpes?”
Did This Really Happen? Seriously?
The BBC actually expects me to believe the following sentence:
“The world’s tallest man has saved two dolphins by using his long arms to reach into their stomachs and pull out dangerous plastic shards.”
Where did this happen? On the moon? How did the plastic shards get into the dolphins? Was it a ghost from the future? After all this happened, did he fly away on a unicorn?
Shame on you, BBC.
(note: It also says that “Mongolian herdsman Bao Xishun was called in after the dolphins swallowed plastic used around their pool at an aquarium in Fushun, north-east China. Attempts to use instruments failed as the dolphins contracted their stomachs. Guinness World Records list Mr Bao, 54, as the world’s tallest living man at 2.36m (7ft 8.95in).” So wait – you’re telling me that the aquarium realized that these dolphins swallowed some plastic and tried to get the pieces out, and when they realized that they couldn’t do it they were like “I guess we better call in Mongolian herdsman Bao Xishun – the world’s tallest living man”? That was their solution? What?! Was he already at the aquarium and they saw his head sticking out above the crowd and they were like “Hey, let’s call him in” or did they have him on speed dial in case something like this came up or what? There are a lot of unanswered questions here.)
(note #2: Here’s another bizarre line from this news article: “The mammals had lost their appetite and were suffering depression, aquarium officials said.” Okay, so now we’ve got depressed dolphins choking on plastic and being saved by a giant. Great. Now my brain is fucking melting.)
(note #3: Hey – look what else they say in this article! “The heads of the dolphins were held back and towels wrapped around their teeth so Mr Bao could not be bitten. He then extended his 1.06m-long arm into the mammals’ stomachs.” Do they have annual awards for “Best Single Sentence In An International News Story”, and if not, can they start now?)
In The Future, Stairs Will Be A Thing Of The Past.
Mostly because our new robot overlords will have no idea how to walk up and down them.
– ASIMO eats shit
– ASIMO eats shit again
(p.s. why are all these robots playing trumpets? is that last one wearing a kimono? japanese people are weird.)
The New Hard Rock Employee Handbook.
As you may have heard, the Hard Rock restaurant, hotel, and casino chain has been acquired by the Seminole Tribe for $965 million. As such, the company’s operations stand to change dramatically over the next few months. Here’s a small sampling of what’s to come, according to a trusted and reliable Seminole insider. Seriously.
– Employees will now be paid in blankets and liquor.
– Full-time employees will have the opportunity to trade all of their earned blankets and liquor within any two-week pay period for ownership of Manhattan Island, which can then be sold back to Hard Rock management for $24.
– Chief Planted Bush want raise.
FASHION DO: Tight pants, sleeveless shirts. “Rock n’ roll” attitude.
FASHION DON’T: Headdresses, hides. Anything “Indianish.”
FASHION DO: Korn t-shirt.
FASHION DON’T: “You Slaughtered My People And Robbed Us Of Our Land” t-shirt.
FASHION DO: Tattoos of skulls, roses.
FASHION DON’T: Tattoos of weird tribal birds, American Indians.
FASHION DO: Mohawk.
FASHION DON’T: Mohawk.
New food items to be served at all Hard Rock Cafe locations include the following:
– Holy Moley Seminoley Guacamole
– Tomahawk Taco Tots
– Antiquated Way Of Life Jalapeño Poppers
– Peace Piperific Pizza Tubes
– Trail Of Tears Spicy Buffalo Wings
New customer service standards will be implemented beginning January 1, 2007. We like to call them the “CARE” Plan – just follow four simple rules:
C – CREATE a pleasant atmosphere for the customer!
A – AVOID bringing up the fact that the colonization of North America completely decimated an entire race of people!
R – REMEMBER to refill those drinks!
E – EMPHASIZE the gift shop!
The Worst Marketing Campaign Of All Time.
Dear Peanut Butter Industry Executives,
I have found the key to your urban demographic. Don’t hit delete yet – let me explain.
Earlier this year an up-and-coming think tank met for a Sunday brunch brainstorming session. Their goal? To invent a new signature cocktail. Not just any signature cocktail, mind you – a signature cocktail that would transcend race, gender, and class lines. What they came up with probably won’t surprise you: Goldschlager and Grape Juice. What’s surprising is that nobody thought of that before! The garnish, on the other hand, came as a bit of a shock to all of us, and if it shocked us, I’m sure it’s going to blow your fucking minds, Peanut Butter Industry Executives:
A smear of peanut butter around the rim.
Do I have your fucking attention yet?
Okay – so we’ve got Goldschlager and grape juice on ice with peanut butter around the rim. What do you call something like that? What name could possibly do it justice? It would have to be something edgy, yet elegant. Smooth, but rough. Creamy, but kind of crunchy – catch my drift (hint: you can get either creamy or crunchy peanut butter around the rim)? The name of this soon-to-be famous signature cocktail, gentlemen?
The Rusty Trombone.
Now, you’re probably thinking to yourself, “Well sure, the cocktail sounds fantastic, but what does this have to do with me, a humble Peanut Butter Industry Executive?” Let me remind you: there’s peanut butter around the rim of this cocktail, this “lifestyle” cocktail. This is going to be a cocktail that people identify with. This, my friends, is where the urban demographic comes in to play.
You may have heard of another popular “lifestyle” cocktail that’s all the rage down in the “dirtay” south. I’m talking, of course, about the “sizzurp” craze (aka “purple drank,” aka “oil,” aka “lean”). Well guess what, Peanut Butter Executives? The “dirty” south is sick of the purple stuff! They’re tired of sippin’ on lean! A man cannot subsist on prescription strength cough syrup and Sprite alone! The people (read: the urban people) are ready for a new cocktail, Peanut Butter Industry Executives, and that cocktail is going to be The Rusty Trombone.
And it will have a smear of peanut butter around the motherfucking rim.
Peanut butter isn’t cool – you guys know this better than anyone else. Every labored ad campaign designed to popularize peanut butter practically screams “this shit is lame!” You lost the urban demographic because the urban demographic is cool and peanut butter is not. The urban demopgrahic is concerned with things like style – things like LIFESTYLE. Guess what? This is a lifestyle cocktail with a smear of peanut butter around the rim. Just picture it: the most famous dirty south rapper in the world rapping in his videos about “lickin’ creamy skip’ off the rim,” or asking his listeners “wut ya’ll know about Creamy Skip?” or maybe just screaming “AWWW SKIP SKIP MOTHAFUCKAZ!” Sound good? Sound like it’ll move some units? Sound like it could maybe, oh geez, I don’t know, pull your whole industry out of the shit? That’s because it can, Peanut Butter Industry Executives. It can if you let it.
So now you’re thinking to yourself, “Alright, you sold me – the drink sounds delicious, the marketing plan sounds perfect, and we could really use a revenue boost in the urban market! Where do we go from here?” I’m glad you asked. I’m envisioning a chain of clubs throughout the “dirty” south that specializes in serving Rusty Trombones. Exclusively Rusty Trombones. We could call it “Rusty’s,” and we could have rappers (read: Rusty Trombone enthusiasts) play live at the shows, and we could make a million fucking dollars. You’ve been very successful at selling a product, Peanut Butter Executives. Now it’s time to kick it up a notch. It’s time to start selling a LIFESTYLE.
Let me worry about generating a buzz – you guys sell peanut butter, for fuck’s sake. Let me get the word out on the street, let me handle the rappers, and let me figure out the perfect blend of Goldschlager and grape juice. All I need from you guys is a whole shitload of venture capital.
Hit me back with the exact amount of money you guys want to throw at this. Remember: the more you spend, the more we make. I will be sending identical email to all of your competitors as well – the contract goes to the highest bidder. Let’s make some fucking cash.
Dear Swishahouse Marketing Executive,
I represent the Unilever subsidiary Skippy Peanut Butter, and we’re currently developing a fairly radical ad campaign for a fairly traditional brand (and a traditional product, at that – the peanut butter demographic tends to skew “family”). I’m sure you’re wondering at this point what in the name of G-d Skippy has to do with Swishahouse. See, that’s the problem right there: Skippy HAS NOTHING to do with Swishahouse.
And that’s what we’d like to change.
By the numbers, there is a huge dip in sales in the peanut butter industry with the youthful, urban demographic. We’d like to capture that demographic if we can, and quite frankly, we think that you, Swishahouse Records, could hold the key to it.
We’re both busy so I’ll get to the point: We want to market a new drink to replace “purple drank,” “lean,” “oil” – whatever you want to call it. Your artists have been rapping about it for a long time now, and we think your audience is probably about ready to give it a rest. The new drink we are developing consists of Goldschlager and grape juice with a smear of Skippy peanut butter around the rim. It’s called The Rusty Trombone, and we’d really like to have your artists (Mike Jones, Paul Wall, et al) pushing it for us on MTV. Some example rhymes they could use include the following:
“What ya’ll know about creamy Skip?” (Nothin’!)
“Lickin’ that candy Skip off the rim in the turnin’ lane”
“Candy Skip drippin off the frame”
Not that they would HAVE TO use these lines, they’re just suggestions obviously.
What, you might be wondering, would Swishahouse Records receive in return? How’s a huge fucking bag of money sound? Pretty good?
We think so, too.
Let’s help each other out.
Hit me back and let me know how you’d like to proceed from here.
Responses: None from the Peanut Butter sector. Head of Marketing for Swishahouse replied with his phone number, but subsequent calls remain unreturned.
Inside Jokes That You’re On The Outside Of.
– Tinky Winky Doo!
– I Can’t Come Until… THIRTEEN O’CLOCK!
– TEP On It!
– Karen’s Not Here Right Now… She’s… DEAD?!
– I Guess We’re Just… SKYDIVIN’ ON A MILKBONE!
– See You Next THUMBER!
– Bats! So Many Fucking Bats!
– She Probably… HAS BALL CANCER!
– She Probably Likes… DINOSAUR JR!
– Yeah, Whatever – She… Probably… EATS PINECONES!
– CHUMBAWAMBA DUMBAHUMBA!
– Sleeky Peeky Teeky!
– KASHMITCHA VAPITCHA!
– TIMMAY! (Not The Retarded South Park Character – A Different One.)
– I Had Sex Last Night In The Backseat Of A Bar – NO, WAIT! I MEANT CAR! HA HA HA HA HA HA!