You call this majesty? Is this the best you can do, nature? I know, I know – people are supposed to be really blown away by rainbows. Hell – this one’s a double rainbow. What am I supposed to do, though? Pull over to the side of the road and think about God? Who should I blame that I don’t? The Skittles Corporation? Shall I shed a single teardrop for the commodification of nature’s splendor? Sorry, rainbow. No dice. I’ll admit that it was a nice change of pace to see these while I was stuck in traffic the other day, but it only lasted about two seconds. Then I realized I was still stuck in traffic and the rainbow wasn’t going to help matters at all. Not even a double rainbow can fix rush hour on I-94. You know why? Because rainbows don’t do anything. They just sit there, refracting light like I’m supposed to give a shit. They’re obeying the laws of physics. Hey, check me out – when I drop this object it falls and hits the ground. Do you find that to be as amazing as an enormous, beautiful rainbow? No? Huh. It’s actually kind of impressive that even though rainbows have every single color there is, they still manage to totally suck.

I think you missed the point, guy. The whole “Calvin Pissing” thing kind of loses its luster when Calvin is just… well… hmm. How can I put this? He’s supposed to be pissing on something. That’s the deal. You can’t just throw a Pissing Calvin on your minivan and expect people to think you’re a badass. Even if you throw two of them on there on either side of your Toyota symbol it’s not gonna do anything. Are you leaving it open-ended until you figure out what you hate? Do you hate your Toyota and the Calvin is supposed to be pissing on its logo? If so, what’s the other one doing there? Is he just backing dude up? You haven’t thought this through at all, have you? You saw other people with stickers on their cars and you were like “Hmm – I guess I should put some stickers on my car, too. Well congrats – you now have stickers on your car and they don’t make any sense. And yet still, somehow, your nonsensical Calvin Pissing stickers rule. How about that?

I made a mashup.

[gv data=”nNFKw7HmWlo”][/gv]

(edit: they removed it. jerks.)

It looks like this (click for full image):

The white guy looks really bummed out about whatever the black guy is about to say.

Jo tried a different approach:

Results inconclusive.

Lighters are good for all kinds of things. Lighting stuff on fire, popping open beer bottles… umm… hmm. Let me start over.

Lighters are good for exactly two things. I can never seem to hold on to one for very long, but I think I’ve finally figured out why: I never actually buy them.

There’s always a lighter coming your way if you can wait long enough. Maybe it’ll be in the couch cushions. Maybe it’ll be under the couch. Maybe it’ll be at a friends house and you’ll be like “whose lighter is this?” and nobody will respond and then BAM – new lighter. Other than those weird Zippo people, lighters don’t really mean much to anyone. They come and go. Big deal.

But sometimes you might have to wait a little longer than you thought. Sometimes you end up spending a little more time than you’d like to asking people for a light, or using matches, or rubbing two sticks together because you know that paying a dollar for a lighter is ridiculous. You know if you just wait a little longer, just a little longer, that magical free lighter is gonna drop out of the sky and you’ll be good to go for another few months until you lose it again.

If you have never been a smoker, none of this means anything to you, does it?

Waiting around for a free lighter is great and everything, but sometimes you have to be more proactive. Sometimes you have to grab life by the horns, walk into 7-Eleven and say “One lighter, please.” Then the guy behind the counter will say “Which one you want?” and you’ll say “I don’t know… the cheapest one,” and he’ll say, “You want a mini?” and you’ll say “No – the cheapest full-size one,” and he’ll hold up a plain blue Bic and be like “This one?” and you’ll be like “Yeah, that’s fine.” You’ll be a dollar poorer, but it won’t matter. You’ll have your own lighter, one that you actually paid for, and you know what?

You’re totally not gonna lose it this time.

Buying a lighter rules.

Ever wonder what it might sound like if a cop ate a shitload of really potent pot brownies, got so stoned he became convinced that he and his wife were both dying, then called 911 for an ambulance? Wonder no more!

More info available here, although I have no idea what more information you could possibly need on this one.

(via mefi)

As you may or may not know, this blog was originally (and continues to be) the web presence of a print zine of the same name. In the first issue of said zine, I wrote a scathing blurb under “Things That Suck” that has really come to bite me in the ass in the last few months. Here it is.

I still agree with a lot of the things I said then. It’s still gross that you can buy them fertilized, it’s still gross that they smell kind of like farts, and it still kind of sucks that an entire meal is built almost entirely around them. I can still stand behind those statements in a way, but something strange happened to me over the course of the last year or so.

It all started about a year ago when I realized that McDonalds Egg McMuffins have the remarkable ability to almost instantly cure hangovers. In that context, eggs were like medicine, something to be choked down for my health but almost certainly not enjoyed. Then it started meandering to other breakfast sandwiches, like the ones Dunkin’ Donuts does with the croissants and the ham and all that. Little by little, eggs started creeping their way into my diet. I rationalized it by saying that I could tolerate eggs as long as they were surrounded by other stuff, as long as there was just as much meat, cheese, and bread in each bite as there was egg. But I wasn’t fooling anyone but myself. I was eating eggs.

Jo was (and continues to be) heartbroken. We once stood together in our brave battle against the eggocracy, thought of ourselves as the lone voice of reason in a sea of sulfurous insanity. She was willing to turn the other cheek when it was just an occasional breakfast sandwich here and there. Hell, she’d even eat one herself every now and then. But when it turned into skillets at a diner, we both knew I was taking it too far. “No – look! It’s just scrambled eggs on top of all this other good stuff! It’s no worse than a breakfast sandwich,” I’d explain. She knew it was bullshit and she wanted no part of it.

One time we were at a fancy hipster brunch joint and I tried to order something called “Country Benedict” without any eggs. I was so naive. Everyone laughed. I guess it was kind of like hanging out at a junkie’s house and asking for a can of heroin.

We both knew what came next, and sure enough, not more than a month later, there I was, ordering omelets like it was no big deal.

It was humiliating.

What happened? I’ll tell you what happened – I got worn out, that’s what happened. I got sick of bread breakfasts, that’s what happened. A man can only tolerate so many waffles, so many pancakes and slices of french toast before he loses his mind. Yeah, you can toss a side of breakfast meat on the side, but you can wrap a ribbon around a turd, too. Does that make it a present?

When you’re sick of bread breakfast there aren’t too many other places you can turn. When it comes to breakfast, eggs are the name of the game. You win, breakfast. You broke me. Uncle.

Now what’s up with these frittata things I keep hearing about?

P.S. The other morning I was scrambling some eggs and one of them had a double-yolk. Why didn’t any of you egg-eating folks warn me about those? They’re terrifying.

I received a letter today enclosed in a normal envelope with no return address. It included the following:

I’m pretty sure somebody is trying to kill me. Anybody have any ideas as to what the hell is going on here?

Devin Flynn’s Y’all So Stupid
watch all of these and your face will melt.

Japanese Revolutionary Fascist Toyama Koichi
i would vote for him.

Chicken Noodle Soup
this week in dance crazes…

Tiger Attack
that would really suck.

Theo Jansen
previously. this guy is awesome.

Bloopers with balls
how much physical anguish can you cram into 35 seconds? exactly this much.

Robert Earl Hughes – World’s Heaviest Man
more info here. big ol’ guy.

Candy
this is disgusting.

Billy’s Balls
i love youtube.

Malibu (of American Gladiators) Talks About His Injury
good ol’ malibu.