Thursday, November 29, 2007

Thursday, November 8, 2007


we're going on strike

Who Needs Dr. Ruth?

NOTE: a very special thanks to our friend B Squared for finding this William-Shattner-ish material...

Ladies and Gentlemen,

For any couples (or individuals) who are having "intimacy problems," a former colleague of mine has stumbled upon a new wonderdrug that is sure to work for both men and women (the best part is that it is not a drug at all). The newest digital dietary supplement was actually introduced back in 1982, but it's potency was not discovered until recently!

While the game's questionable storyline may not titillate viewers, the vivid and graphic detail is certain to arouse even the coldest and feeble of loins:

Few user testomonials are available on this cutting edge strategy, but the following has been dug up:

As a rude, crude, lewd nude dude in cavalry boots and hat, your mission is to avoid a hail of airborne arrows, make your way over to an Indian maiden tied to a pole, and have your way with her. That's the game. Replay value and any actual titillation value not included. (Mystique, 1983)

So, if you can find a copy of this game, BUY IT. You will not be dissapointed.

Would you rather . . .

Wash 1000 pairs of dirty feet using only your tongue or have sex with this guy 100 times?

In between thinking of ways to kill myself at work . . .

I started to wonder what a whole meal of food would be like in the company of the following: Michael Jackson, Henry Winkler, and Dennis Haysbert (that guy with the big hands (not positive that he has big hands, but I imagine that they are) from the Allstate Commercials). Now, I'm not particularly fond of any of these men. It's just that all three have become unavoidable in my life these days. Michael Jackson is absolutely insane and can't stay out of popular media. Allstate commercials are on all the time (I had a dream the other night where a dog mouthed to me "That's Allstate's stand!"), so Haysbert is getting ridiculous amounts of air-time. Finally, one of my friends (will call him GW) recently decided he wanted to start dressing like the Fonz and move a block away from my apartment. As a result, all three have collided in my head for one cosmic meal and some conversation. Here's how I think it would go:

One large man dressed in a fuscia robe would approach me as I casually sit at our table alone. He would of course be carrying Michael in his arms as Mr. Jackson (dressed in a one-piece playsuit) pets a child's plush toy and twirls a satin umbrella over his head. Once seated at the table his large/robed man would then begin to massage his cheeks (for the entirety of the meal). As a result, Mr. Jackson would offer nothing more than his presence (and the creepy greeting he gave me where he insisted on first smelling my hands and then watching me eat a shittake mushroom). Truly disappointing indeed.

Next, Mr. Winkler enters the room decked out in full Fonzie gear (leather jacket, gelled hair, black shoes, jeans, and a government ID card notifying the public that he is a registered sex offender). Throwing out his catch-phrase "EHHHHH," Winkler gets excited by Michael's outfit and begins to rub Jackson's forearms telling him what a strange little alien he is. As Michael begins to weep uncontrollably (he's used to his partners being younger and wearing more leather), the fuscia large robe guy picks up Winkler by his ear lobe and escorts him out of the room. In the end, Michael calms down, I find a stray dog under the table to be an adequate replacement, and everyone once again realizes how culturally insignificant/irrelevant the Fonz is at the present time (everyone except for GW of course who still attempts to emulate his hero through his odd fashion choices).

Finally, the guest of honor, Dennis Haysbert walks in. He takes one look at Michael, calls him a freaking goblin, and slaps Mr. Jackson across the mouth with both of his over-sized hands (the King of Pop wasn't in good hands with Mr. Haysbert). Michael's fuscia friend takes one step forward but gets blown out of the room when Dennis suddenly turns around and farts the Allstate jingle at perfect pitch from his rectum. With both problems set aside, he sits down at the table, orders a bottle of Disaronno and demands that I not make any eye contact with him whatsoever. In an even more bizarre move, he makes me sit in the booth next to him in case someone else shows up and needs a seat (which really doesn't make sense to me because we were the only people populating this random dream I was having and that stray dog I mentioned earlier was about as far of a stretch as I could make (unless Haysbert was actually the one controlling the dream (he could be God (does anyone know anything about religion (nonsense, what am I talking about))))). Strange, but I go along with it anyway. Haysbert then goes into a 15 minute rant about how much respect he had for the '86 Mets, and I start to feel more and more uncomfortable (though it had something to do with the fact that he was forching me to eat soft-boiled eggs out of his mega-hands). At one point in the meal, a basket of bread appears out of nowhere containing 8-10 rolls. Trying to pick up a piece of bread from the basket, Dennis accidentally grabs hold of the entire table, knocking all the food to the floor. Clearly embarrassed, he starts muttering under his breath about something called accident forgiveness while I try to make a run for the door. In the end, Haysbert doesn't notice as he begins to wrestle with the stray dog that suddenly reappears, and I make my escape from the dinner table.

In the end, I would have avoided inviting Moonwalker and the Fonz. Similarly, I would have probably not spent so much alone time with Mega-hands as he had a propensity for making feel insanely uncomfortable (and insecure about small my small hands) Given the chance to do it over again though, I would have invited Danny Bonaduce to neutralize Haysbert with his gravelly voice and unbridled insanity. Oh, and I would bring back that stray dog too (though it would be way more interesting if somehow the dog and Bonaduce combined into one mythical beast . . . like a Roc but with less grabbing of elephants)

Morning Cup of Feces

Once upon a time, in an age long ago (roughly the year 1977), a good friend of mine went for walk. His name was Fereidoun M. Esfandiary, but you can call him FM-2030. During his walk, he happened upon an enchanted lake, so he sat down on a boulder and pondered his present situation. As FM-2030 was a futurist, his present situation happened to be in the year 2162 at that moment. The world was in turmoil, and a lot of people were very sad.

Thinking of things like this made FM-2030 want to forget all of the problems in his current time in the future, so he decided to travel to the past, to the year 1995 and introduce a few troubled youths to one of his favorite future pastimes, jenkem.

Deep in the backwoods of New Jersey, he stumbled upon a not-so-ragtag group of hooligans that looked to be up to anything but good. They were dressed in crisply pressed flashy dress shirts, with their chests shaved to make room for thin gold chains. The chains glistened and sparkled in the sunlight, as did their spray tan chests and produced hair. They wore lightly tinted sunglasses, presumably so that they could keep them on indoors. When they saw FM-2030, they began to yell various epithets and threats at him:

"What the fuck are you looking at!"
"Fucking skank!"
"Check out my new fucking haircut!"
"Go get me some more fucking protein!"

As their shouts grew more aggressive, FM-2030 grew more upset with their behavior. Just then he had a thought of tolerance and forgiveness; maybe he could mend the ways of these youths by taking them on an enlightening experience!

He decided that he would be friendly to the Hair Product Five (as they later came to be known). He humbly walked up and introduced himself by his full name.

"What the fuck is that shit? What kind of fucking name is that?!" He decided to give them his taken name, FM-2030. They liked this more. "Alright! You got a cool nickname with numbers and letters in it! You can hang out with us! Come on, we're going to the club to grind on girls and drink Jaeger bombs. It's gonna be fucking awesome!"

FM-2030 suggested they try Jenkem; at first the Hair Product Five was hesitant, as they did not want to taste their own feces. So, FM-2030 had to use his Boolean logic to trick them into trying it.

"Now I get it!" exclaimed one of the Hair Product Five. "FM-2030, I'll never doubt you again. Come on guys, let's go take shits and piss into jars, then let the contents ferment!"

They all reunited a few days later with their excrement releasing gas into balloons. FM-2030 couldn't wait to show them what to do next.

[Events omitted for our younger readers]

Once they were all tripping on Jenkem, FM-2030 told them a story about a wrestler from the past, Macho Man Randy Savage. He explained how Macho Man had been too self-involved and in love with his own image, and how this led to his downfall against the Ultimate Warrior.

"And that's why you shouldn't spend so much time shaving your chest, putting on chains, gelling your hair, putting on sunglasses that you wear indoors/at night, pressing your jeans and dress shirts, eating protein shakes, taking steroids, drinking Jaeger bombs, and grinding on girls."

All of a sudden, it dawned on the Hair Product Five to change their ways. They all thanked FM-2030 profusely, not knowing that he was not there and that they were hugging a tree. FM-2030 had already gone back in time to the year 1977 to talk to his favorite fortune teller, who happened to be a waiter at the local Chinese restaurant. The waiter did not tell fortunes, FM-2030 just thought he did because of the Jenkem.
When the Hair Product Five came to from their trip, and realized that FM-2030 had abandoned them, they resented him more than ever. They decided not to listen to such a fool, and so they reverted to their old way of living.
And so it is; because FM-2030 did not stay with them through their whole Jenkem trip, the Hair Product Five grew to rule the entire state of New Jersey.
The end.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Would you rather . . .

Fight a shark or a bear? Think about it, a shark would maul you in the ocean but be rendered completely useless on dry land. A bear, while seemingly big and slow much like my friend Joe Wiese, could still probably track you down on land but would have varying degrees of success beyond shallow water. So the question really boils down to, are you prepared to avoid water/sharks your whole life or live in a constant state of fear on land knowing a bear is just going to maul you the moment you shut your eyes. Think about it . . .

JENKEM: Sweeping America's Young One Shit at a Time

JENKEM is a fascinating new phenomenon truly resonating these days with America's youth. Could it be the inexpesiveness/abundance of feces? Who knows, but see for yourself in this sordid little analysis. Included below is a detailed, first-hand account of this new "wonder drug." Appreciate the poetry this young man weaves as he describes huffing "his own shit gas."

Well today I finally did it. I became probably the first person in America to huff his own shit gas. No video though, sorry, no camera. I hope you are not too disappointed. I could bet pictures though and I wrote a trip report. Today the bubbles had mostly stopped. The balloon had possibly grown a little bit since last time but it was oblong from days in the sun or maybe from the gases inside so it was hard to tell. The shit in the bottle was very settled and did not look like shit anymore even. I first lightly shook the bottle to make sure all of the bubbles had popped. I then pinched off the balloon and took it off of the top. I held that while I huffed from the bottle. After exhaling all air from my lungs I took my straw and inhaled from the inside of the bottle. The flavor of shit struck me, it stuck to the tongue like the flavor after smoking a cigar. My body wanted me to stop breathing it but I kept going by putting the end of the straw further back in my mouth, behind my tongue. I took a some more breaths of that and I waited a few seconds, then inhaled the balloon. The balloon was less harsh, I could barely taste any of it and it felt like breathing oxygen. After breathing it in I immediately felt that I was passing out. I did not even have time to spit before I became unconscious. When I woke up my spittle had oozed out of my mouth and down my chin. I asked my friend how long I was out for. He said for about a minute, and that he had repeatedly tried to wake me but I would not wake up. During this short conversation I began to feel light dissociative effects come over me, accompanied by buzzing in my ears. The feeling got stronger and stronger until I felt like I was in a dream. This was somewhat enjoyable, it made me feel like nothing really mattered. The apathy actually made the rest of the trip more enjoyable. After I was fully into the dream like state visual hallucinations began to start. I had fleeting visions of people who seemed completely random, like my second grade teacher. I would say something to the person and then he or she would disappear. Normally I would be fearful of trips like this but the dream feeling made it almost fun. Hearing was dulled during the trip, I could only hear what I was saying and some random noises like screeching and car noises. After I the effects wore off my friend told me that I was mostly talking in gibberish so I guess I couldn't hear my own voice anything in the outside world throughout the trip. At the peak of the trip I saw things like pillars in my lawn that disappeared and shapes in the sky. My sense of time was slowed, so the whole trip felt like it was shorter than it was. The comedown was mostly auditory hallucinations, like voices and loud cracks. The dream like feeling lessened and I drifted back into reality. In the last parts of the trip I became paranoid from the noises because it felt real instead of like a dream. I asked my friend how long it had been. He said about 40 minutes. He also told me that I spent long periods of time staring at different spots. I also, according to him, spoke slurred works to trees and rocks. I was very surprised by how messed up the jenkem got me. That was higher than I have ever been. Other drugs distort reality, but jenkem really distorts reality. I was almost completely unaware of my surroundings. My friend said that seeing me was scary and he was thinking of getting an adult. Thank god he didn't do that. In conclusion: was it enjoyable: no, not really. Would I do it again? Definately not. Would I recommend another person to try it? I wouldn't to anyone who I am close to. If you are very adventurous and would try anything then I guess you should try jenkem. But know that the preparation is not made worthwhile by the trip.

Monday, November 5, 2007

Ricky Henderson's Worst Nightmare

Happy face cookies smile back at you!

Would you rather . . .

Be Steven Baldwin or Frank Stallone? Both are equally worthless siblings of famous actors, although Baldwin does know Pauley Shore personally from there time spent shooting Bio-Dome together. Thoughts?

Friday, November 2, 2007

Would you rather . . .

Look like this guy (appearance and sense of fashion) or have a hardcore lisp?

overheard moments ago on 40th and 7th

"Yeah you're stupid and dumb. You probably like have clothes and shower. Just live off the land bro."

Thursday, November 1, 2007

Once on his way home from his weekly viola lessons, Luigi encountered a stray cat. This was not any stray cat, this was Sven the Sphinx with his girlfriend Svetlana:

Normally, Luigi does not talk to stray cats, but having gulped down half a bottle of Drano, he was feeling rather congenial.

"Good day to you felines," said Luigi, "what are you doing outside of my apartment?"

"Please sir, we have lost our way. We are looking for the nearest pet store where we may acquire a goldfish or two." Sven had a look of desperation.

"You silly cat!" Luigi chuckled kindheartedly. "If I tell you where to get such a fish, you will surely eat it!"
"No sir, I promise we won't. It is our son's birthday and he has no present. The only creatures he likes to play with are goldfish."
[story to be continued on a daily basis]

Would you rather . . .

Be a sheep dog or a duck? Think about it, a sheep dog has a pretty easy life on the farm but a duck can fly, walk, and swim . . .