Favorite

Young, doe-eyed little girl: Daddy, which one of us is your favorite?

Dad: I'm not telling you, ugly.

What's Spanish for "Shut the hell up because you already know I don't speak Spanish"?

A guy came into the store yesterday asking if anyone there spoke Spanish. After repeating "No hablemos Español" to him several times to no avail, I finally realized that the reason for our apparent miscommunication wasn't the language barrier. It was the fact that he was retarded. He continued to ask if anyone spoke Spanish, and then he pointed out his wallet full of US dollars. Evidently, either he was trying to show me that he wasn't planning on paying in pesos, or he was asking me to take his money and poke him in the eye. Anyway, long story short, I can't get the smell of vitreous humor off my hands.

Mail or bail? We can't afford both.

Honestly, I wasn't aware that anyone still used snail mail at all. No one will after this. Or maybe, USPS, it would be easier for you if we skipped all these formalities and went straight to you peeing in our mouths.

Buy More Cheetos

The first time I saw this website, I laughed so hard I think I broke a blood vessel in my eye. The creator is a "teacher and concerned citizen" (read: "loser") who thinks those Cheetos commercials where people get what's coming to them are unfunny and socially irresponsible.

I'm not sure if this dufus is aware of surrealist humor or Web 2.0, but her (I can only assume it's a female humanities teacher) wanton and smelly disregard for all things funny on TV is just plain offensive. I'm amazed she even knew the commercials were advertising Cheetos, and not some antidepressant. If you're reading this right now, lady, then allow me to crack an egg of knowledge all over the dry pancake mix that is your head:

The ad campaign is directed at adults. Frito-Lay is trying to convey the message that Cheetos are a cathartic way for people who are all growns up to kick back and indulge that natural desire we all feel for cheese-flavored powder and hardened corn foam.

If your children are going around smashing snack foods into laptops, then ma'am, I suggest you either call child services and have them cart you away for being a terrible parent, or at the very least, blow the whole college fund on jet skis, as your kids are clearly retarded, and they're never getting into college.

Is this no-account, two-bit thimblerigger actually willing to admit that she thinks children are stupid enough to copy the actions of a character in a 30-second commercial? What about the ads for Priceline, Call of Duty, Travelocity, Burger King, Axe, Scion, Honda, SportsCenter, Trix, Lucky Charms, and literally hundreds of others, all of which feature acts of violence? If she doesn't want to look like a big, floppy tool and a glaring hypocrite, then why doesn't she boycott all the stuff that could corrupt her (obviously moronic) children's fragile little minds? Because she's an idiot who spends more time voting for the next American Idol than she does thinking about why her daddy drank himself to death while she was busy protesting the Vietnam conflict and destroying her own memories one acid trip at a time.

I've Got Your Bailout

My first thought upon reading this guy's sign was "I know exactly where your bailout is. Obviously, you already spent it on that Members Only jacket, asshat. Isn't Wham just the best? Screw the Ayatollah! Where's my Rubik's Cube?"

Weak-Willed Women Academy

The first time I saw VH1's Tool Academy, my jaw dropped faster than when President Obama tried to show me his "Baracktagon." It's the single greatest television show since some drunk FOX executive thought it would be a good idea to send a cameraman out to record cops arresting rednecks and tackling crackheads. It's TV Nirvana. It's better than winning the lottery on your birthday while kicking little children in the neck.

Of course, the reason I like it might not be the same as some other people's. The ostensible point of the show is to get a bunch of tools (read: "guys who like Fall Out Boy") to change their ways and become gentlemen. Instead, it's actually about women who are either too insecure or too stupid to break up with their loser boyfriends and find men who won't treat them like Mickey Rourke treats personal hygiene.

A couple of the guys even bragged to the camera about how often they cheated on their girlfriends. Instead of leaving them on the spot, storming out, getting super drunk, and banging a bunch of random dudes like they should have, the girls got a little miffed and then re-upped their efforts to save relationships that any thinking person would have recognized as doomed long ago.

Honestly, I get a kick out of watching these punching bags complain about their douchenozzle boyfriends and then decide to stay with them anyway. I can't think of anyone who deserves to be stuck with these assclowns any more then their current girlfriends. What ever happened to the good ol' days when disgruntled wives and girlfriends pulled a Lorena Bobbit and simply cut off the only part of their significant others that attracted them to the relationship in the first place?

If those relationships are "worth the effort," then what'll actually make them leave? "Well, I thought it was going really well for a while there, but then I found out he prefers Pepsi over Coke, so I dumped his Pepsi-loving ass. Hey! Let's go rent 'Sex and the City,' make ourselves some cosmos, and complain about our cramps!"

If those ladies are representative of most twentysomething women in America, then I think I might have to kill myself.

"Linux ate my baby and gave me cancer"

Yesterday, I found out about some girl in Madison, Wisconsin who "had" to drop out of her online college courses because she accidentally ordered a Dell with Ubuntu on it instead of Windows. A local news station picked up the story and made it into a tear-jerking human interest piece. They also misrepresented Ubuntu in the process.

The girl's complaints were that the computer didn't have Microsoft Office and she couldn't get Internet access because Verizon had given her a Windows-only installation CD. As it turns out, Verizon high-speed Internet access actually supports Ubuntu, and as many a nerd knows, Ubuntu comes with a program called Open Office, which is a free productivity suite that's compatible with Microsoft Office.

The girl's problems with the OS could have been solved in a single email from one of thousands of loyal Linux users, but instead of trying to deal with it, she decided her best option was to drop out of her online classes, blame the recession and Bush for all her problems, and then cry until she got dehydrated.

OK, so maybe those last few things didn't happen, but you see my point. Unless she was planning on using her diploma as a drool napkin, then it's obvious that college is not for her.

My only real beef with this whole thing is the fact that after receiving vitriolic hate mail from Ubuntu users who were furious about the negative light in which he had cast the operating system, the thumbhead who broke the story followed it up with a retarded straw-man argument and an indictment of everyone who was candid enough to point out how stupid the girl is.

Sure, his faux-benevolent blustering got the poor dolt her precious Internet access, but so would a call to the IT guys at Madison Area Technical College (or a single search on Yahoo Answers). To be perfectly honest, I'm not even sure how someone could accidentally order a computer with Ubuntu in the first place. Did she buy it based on how shiny it was? Did she just start smashing the keyboard with mittened hands while she was on Dell.com until the nice UPS man delivered her computer and told her to stop? And since when are people who make Forrest Gump look like Stephen Hawking getting accepted by colleges? Maybe she was there on a softball scholarship or something.

Some people are all up in arms about how poorly this girl was treated by vicious Linux users. In fact, she reported that she was even getting harassed on Facebook. I'm not sure that the people who rush to her defense are fully understanding the depth of her stupidity.

Imagine that someone you knew didn't know how to drive a manual transmission car but went ahead and bought one anyway because she liked the color. Then imagine that she somehow got it home, only to discover that she's a certifiable moron, the car is useless, and she missed Blue's Clues. Finally, imagine that instead of trying to learn how to drive the car, she cried until a passing reporter asked her what was wrong, and the reporter did a story about how BMW makes an inferior product and owes her an apology. You know you'd tease her until she either committed suicide or developed an eating disorder.

Except running Ubuntu is easier than getting raped at Michael Jackson's house.

Thought of the day 01/17/09

It's about damn time Hollywood finally acknowledged the Holocaust. I'm glad all those Gentiles who run the entertainment industry are at last starting to talk about the horrors that were performed in the 1940's. And also Hitler.

Wedding DJ

DJ: Here's a a song list. Now, we can go with sort of a generic party atmosphere, or I can stick with a theme if you prefer.

Sheila: Well, I don't care too much about a theme.

Lance: Let me ask you this: Is there a way I can request songs that you WON'T play?

DJ: Of course.

Lance: OK then. If you play "Friends in Low Places," I'm gonna stab you in the eye.

DJ: Uh... Alright.

Lance: Don't interrupt. If you play "The Electric Slide," you get stabbed in the eye. If you make all the men sing "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'" to Sheila here, you get stabbed in the eye.

Sheila: What's wrong with "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'"?

Lance: It's only the most famous song from the single most homoerotic movie ever made.

DJ: I don't think they played that song in "Rudy."

Lance: You're coming very close to getting eye-stabbed.

Thought of the day 01/08/09

Why does it seem like the vast majority of people with lisps are British? I've met two Americans with lisps in my entire life, but approximately one third of all British people I've seen on TV, in movies, and in real life have lisps. Maybe it's all that inbreeding, or maybe they're all just fancy boys.

Whopper Virgins

With the crippling amount of TV I watch, I've been subjected to Burger King's "Whopper Virgins" ad series so many times that I occasionally slip into delusion and believe that I made them myself. For the eight people online who haven't seen these ads (or "adverts," as I caught Snowden saying recently), the basic premise is that Burger King got a bunch of isolated people "who have never seen a burger; who don't even have a word for burger" to have sex with hamburgers.

But not really. They just had these people try a Whopper and a Big Mac and vote for whichever one they preferred, and while that's decidedly less sexy, the cleanup is much easier. Burger King billed it as "the world's purest taste test." It's not. It's the world's dumbest idea.

Imagine, if you will, a similar test involving movies. What if we got a bunch of people who've never even heard of a motion picture, showed them every single non-indie American film ever made, and then asked them which they preferred? Their answers would vary wildly from "The Great Train Robbery" to "Speed Racer" to "The Kid" to "How is this magic possible, ghost man? Now, please, may I have my hunting stick back? You've cost me a day's worth of food, so now I have to decide which of my children I hate less, and he gets to eat tomorrow."

Or we can try out a slightly less outlandish example. What if we asked a bunch of Mormons to taste hundreds of different types of wine? In the world's purest wine tasting, the winner would inevitably be Mike's Hard Lemonade. Of course, we'd also have to figure out a way to quantify a statement like, "I want you to know something, man. I like you. I know... I know we just met... but I really like you. You're a cool guy. I can't feel my face. Jeez, it's hot in here! Could you do me a solid and hold the room down so it stops spinning and I can walk across the hall and get me another glass of Franzia with ice in it? By the way, BEST DRINK EVAR! *snore*."

The principle is the same in both examples, and it applies directly to the Whopper Virgins test. The testees would have no consensus whatsoever, as they have no basis on which they're supposed to make a decision that would be intelligible to an American who's eaten a burger once a week for forty years.

Would you trust a book review written by someone who only recently learned to read? Would you pick a car based on a recommendation made by someone who can't drive? Of course not. We only think we need experts because, surprise, we do! People who don't know what the hell they're talking about should stay where they belong: teaching at universities.

Now, don't get me wrong. I don't mean to denigrate the fine, decent, hard-working indigenous peoples of... wherever. In fact, I kinda feel bad for the poor schlubs who got roped into tasting crappy American food in exchange for a green card that (oops!) got "lost in the mail." But then again, seeing rural foreigners who are too poor to own fancy things like doors or underpants really makes me feel better about myself. I'm gonna go let my hot water run for hours and turn on all the lights in my apartment now.

Overheard Conversation

As I was sitting in the food court on my lunch break at work, I overheard the following erudite snippet of conversation:

Girl #1: So, what's your favorite thing about him?

Girl #2: Oh, he's just so adorable! I love his eyebrows!

Girl #3: Ugh, whatever. I hate his eyebrows.

I sat there for several minutes trying to figure out just how stupid someone would have to be in order to actually engage in a conversation like that. Clearly, these young ladies were either high or developmentally disabled or both, so I finished my lunch as quickly as possible, for fear of one of them getting angry and using her retard strength to crush my larynx.

Is that a normal conversation for women? Am I woefully and irrevocably masculine, or am I simply out of the loop? Do other people have conversations that are that inane? Who cares about someone's eyebrows? Only a person who's too vapid to watch any movies that don't have the word "movie" in the title; that's who. Only morons. Only high schoolers who are being taught that even if they don't show up for a test, they still deserve a grade of 50% on said test. I think we need another plague.