So, back in the day when my buddies and I used to karaoke Beastie Boys on our Friday nights, we decided to do a music video for (what we thought at the time, but was later disproved by our Beasties' Bracket) the greatest Beastie Boys' song, "So Whatcha' Want." One segment preceding the actual video involved each of us telling a terribly horrible joke. I don't know why we thought this would be a good prologue, but we did it.
My buddy J2K's joke was: "Why was the tomato blushing?"
Answer: "Because it saw the salad dressing." BOOM.
Today in class, a classmate gives me some Laffy Taffy's, I open it, eat it, and then think to myself "I wonder what the Laffy Taffy jokes are like these days."
The picture quality is poor, but it says "Why was the tomato blushing?"
11 years later, I text J2K with that question, and the reply: "Ah man cuz it saw the salad dressing."
Satire exposes the flaws, weaknesses, and idiosyncracies of a political/social/etc system or group; its effectiveness lies in its ability to push equivocation aside and directly address the heart of the problem by using humor (I DONT UNDERSTAND WHAT I JUST TYPED BUT IT SOUNDS RIGHT). Well, whatever it is, I like satire mostly because it's FUNNY.
Take this device up a level to what I will term "metasatire" -- where things are mocked in vague generalities -- and you see exactly how formulaic things in our society such as our 24-hour news programs (first clip) and movies (second clip) have become.
Man, oh man, I love these clips... but it's a little scary to see that we are getting fed this stuff over and over...
The Onion News mocking the news, courtesy of Banker (WARNING: a bit of language here)
The internet is a timewaster's paradise, but I think it has reached an all-time low (on top of the pornography and spammers). We had Nic Cage as Everyone -- now, I give you Selleck Waterfall Sandwich:
The title of the blog and the criteria for submitting pictures is pretty self-explanatory, once you get past the randomness of the three items: A sandwich, a waterfall, and Tom Selleck. Like I said. The internet has reached rock-bottom.
Anyone who had anything to do with the development of the internet just collectively rolled over in their graves. And anybody who is still alive that helped in the development of the internet just experienced an aneurysm and then rolled over in their graves. Al Gore included.
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God does exist and he may be partial to the Japanese...
Out of all the western-originated products to improve on...
The Japanese print is hard to make out, but the developer lists three inadequacies that typical sleeping bags have: (1) If there are things you need, you can't get them without leaving the sleeping bag; (2) If you're ever attacked by a bear, you can't get up and run; and I can't make out the third reason. But I'm sure it's equally as humorous.
This is basically a warmer version of a straight jacket, as the use of arms is nonexistent. Some Q&A I had with the developer: Q: What if I want to walk down a flight of stairs in this sleeping bag? A: You're screwed. You will have no arms to prevent you from tumbling to (at least) three broken ribs and a concussion.
Q: What if I get into a brou-haha with my campsite neighbors, and they surround me and decide to start hitting me with bamboo sticks? What can I do? A: Again: Screwed. You will be like the Black Knight on Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Hilarious movie! Especially those French taunters. Oh man, where they start launching the cows over the castle wal-- Q: /rolling eyes and resisting urge to cock back fist/ Stay on track, sir. A: Oh yes. Sorry. Essentially, you will be defenseless -- I would at least make an effort to cover your face. Don't worry, though. Welts and lacerations go away. Eventually.
Q: What if all my friends with Snuggies are playing basketball or baseball or something? Will I be able to participate. A: All I have to say is, I hope you like a faceful of ball. If you didn't realize, you will have the hands of snake while wearing this sleeping bag.
Q: Does the sleeping bag at least come in leopard print? Zebra print? A: No. We believe in keeping humiliation simple.
And there you have it.
-Via Email from Sara S:
-Via TXT from AM, who parked her car at my house while she went home for Christmas and returned while I was still in TX:
I think someone syphoned out my gas
It's interesting. I moved to a new place which is supposed to be safer than my old neighborhood (alleged "gang territory"), but in two years at the old place, I never had a problem. In the last few weeks, idiots have punched out Josh M's car window and stolen his GPS (the bastards), and they have siphoned the gas out of AM's car (sons of bastards).
Well, Gas Siphoner, I hope your circumstances were extenuating enough to warrant stealing fuel, as in you needed to drive your great-aunt and her broken hip to the emergency room in the middle of the night, or the apocalypse happened and you needed gas for your generator. If it was for something else -- say, to satisfy your pot smoking-induced "munchies" craving with a 2AM Taco Bell run -- I pray you have contracted immobilizing food poisoning from your Super Nachos Grande, and have been tasting the foul cocktail of nacho-vomit, stomach acid, and unleaded 87 for the past half-week. Also to complete the karmic cycle, I hope you find yourself stranded in the middle of the Nevada desert one day, fuelless, and walking in 120 degree weather for countless miles to a gas station. Happy New Year to you.
I'm on vacation, so count yourself lucky: I am kifing something from collegehumor.com. Here's just one of them, but there are more at the hyperlink. Enjoy:
The Sports Guy, Bill Simmons, who is one of my favorite writers, is touring to promote his new book, The Book of Basketball. DC's ESPN Zone was his first stop, so I got down there to meet the man. He skipped dinner to shake hands and chat, and was congenial and expressed gratitude to us as the readers. Maybe he doesn't realize that his columns get working Americans in the 18-35 male demographic through their tedious work weeks. It is we who should be thanking him.
Going to the book signing was an interesting study of celebrity worship in America. The person behind me in line was visibly nervous, and began vocally brainstorming something "funny" he could say to Simmons. He was running his ideas by everyone in line around him. Nobody in line was helping him, but it was probably because every other frat boy in line was trying to come up with witticisms of their own with which they could impress Bill. It was as if The Sports Guy were holding auditions for a new best friend. Yup, an intelligent writer like Bill Simmons is as pathetic as Paris Hilton, everyone!
Also, in case you were wondering, I'm convinced that the portrait in the background is Brigham Young -- mostly because I can picture Brother Brigham toting a baseball glove, bat, and disproportionately LARGE head around with him. (I understand caricature, but that's "like an orange on a toothpick!")
Happy new week, all. As much as you can, enjoy your Monday.
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-Via TXT from White Josh; while watching a session of our church's worldwide General Conference in which the speaker, a man of the Asian persuasion, Korean flavor, spoke about some men whom he knew when they were young and "rowdy." After the speaker threw up a picture of them, Josh sent:
That was the aewesomest picture of asian bad a's i have ever seen !!!!!
Don't worry; I hunted down a still capture of the photo:
I need some pleated jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt.
-Via IM with Josh M, when I pointed out that one morning I heard the squirrels that have invaded the walls of our apartment:
you should have captured them and THROWN THEM ON THE GROUND
This, of course, was based on an SNL music video we saw last Saturday. Its connection with coherence, much like Lindsay Lohan and sobriety, is tenuous at best -- in honesty, absolutely non-existent. But I suppose therein lies the hilarity:
Whenever something frustrates me now, I see the object in my mind's eye slamming into the ground in slo-mo. Granted, the slow-motion filming of a squirrel being thrown to the ground would be excessively graphic, like watching a Michael Vick-hosted documentary on the torture methods of the Spanish Inquisition, and would no doubt elicit some sort of inane lawsuit from PETA. At the very least it would get their celebrity spokesmen to strip naked in some form of ineffectual protest.
-Via Email from DougC, whom I wanted to guest blog but is working like a slave and has no time. With regards to an important test results he is awaiting, he petitioned:
Maybe if you have a ancient Japanese ritual you could perform on my behalf it would help...or if nothing else a Mormon-style prayer.
It's rare that someone places enough faith in me to importune my help with something that actually matters, so consider it done, Doug: Incense sticks have been lit, ancestors have been importuned, stomachs have been slit. You get the idea.
Some dude made a coffee table based on an NES controller -- nerdy, right? Well, dig deeper into the story's goldmine of dweebdom, you'll discover the bonus: The controller is fully functional. This reminds me of back when my old roommates, Jay and Johnny, had a multi-week de facto pissing contest viaContra proxy. They were competing to see who could beat the game in the least amount of time. Good luck entering the 30-life bonus code with this size controller.
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This is a screen capture from my Inbox. These are three high school friends with whom all common interests were superceded by our mutual love for the lyrical genius of the Beastie Boys. Boyer and I were discussing the Beasties' greatest songs last week; next thing I know he has unleashed a gargantuan, March Madness-style bracket with 64 Beastie Boys' songs to determine a decisive winner. The four of us vote on a song-versus-song matchup; if there is a tie we enter discussions advocating our picks, and the cycle continues. So far we have 48 emails going back and forth, and we have barely entered the second round.
Last Friday we tried to have a bonfire, but after driving around to four separate grocery stores we were unable to find a single bundle of firewood. We settled on one of those superlog thingies -- the composition of which I can only surmise is asbestos, napalm taken from decommissioned weapons' stores, and some sort of animal manure.
Not being a fan of roasting my marshmallows over a carcinogenic breeding ground, DJA and I cobbled together a decent little fire, despite it having been rainy the few days previous. So NOW they're stocking firewood. In abundance. Unbelievable.
-Via Email from Nartker, completely out of the blue:
In two and a 1/2 weeks time I am going up against a few people in an eating contest... I need any type of information that will enable me to eat large quantities of food in a 45 minute time period. I need your assistance gathering said information...
Thanks
To paraphrase The Sports Guy.... Yup, these are my friends.
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O mighty samurai, i beseech thy help in going to battle once more against the daft swedes
Remember, I assembled a chest of drawers back in March for AM, enduring a "battle of wits" with the Swedes and IKEA furniture with nothing as weapons except for my own literacy and patience -- both of which are suspect at best. It seems AM has made another IKEA trip, and I've been commissioned into service.
If it were in the ancient samurai days, "battle" would have been as easy cutting a large Swedish Viking-dude in half with my awesome sword, Deadliest Warrior style. But now? Now I'm forced to do battle with indecipherable IKEA-issued instructions. Oh, the complexities of the modern world, civilization, and "the rule of law"...
Seriously, though. Well worth the watch (I wasn't able to embed the clip)
-Via Facebook, Email, and other digital mediums, I have received three separate recommendations this past week from friends to this website: www.peopleofwalmart.com. One recommendation:
If you don't appreciate this, no one will.
Not sure what that means, but I'll try not to read into it.
Casey has developed such an affinity for the site that Nartker theorized: "Which accomplishment will Casey be more proud of? Passing his CPA exams on the first try or finding something that gets posted as a contribution to the people of Walmart blog? Still a 50 50 toss up in my mind"
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Admittedly, I didn't take this picture, but it's basically what I saw after lunch this past Friday. A man for a buffalo wings grill making deliveries in a swank BMW. Many of you know my affinity for FAIL Blog, so I declare this to be Living Within Your Means FAIL.
Also, let's throw in a Road Civility FAIL for good measure, as the dude flipped me the finger.
Call it juvenile, but some things never lose their humor:
Photo sent by Josh M.
I think Shaolin monks are known for their ability to tolerate enormous amounts of pain. Taking a Karate Kid-esque Flying Crane kick to the equipment would most definitely fall into that category. And based on the photo backdrop, I can only deduce that this is taking place in some Asian house of legislation, where instead of pounding a gavel or ringing a bell to begin new parliamentary sessions, the Speaker of the House commits an atrocity against a buddhist monk. Look at all the pent-up frustration in that lawmaker's face! There must be a testy piece of health care legislation on the debate docket.
My sister Jen asked me once why, as males, we laugh uproariously when a fellow man is struck in the man-area. Dodgeballs, fists, knees, wrenches... Any object hitting a man in the crotch with violent force -- for whatever inane reason -- is hilarious to us. Except, of course, if we're on the receiving end. In those cases, all we can muster is a weak yelp and collapse in nauseating pain. This leads me to conclude that we men possess none of the following: 1) Maturity; 2) empathy; 3) a belief in karmic retribution.
While I'm at it, some things that will never lose their humor, just off the top of my head:
Watching other men try to show off -- and fail : I was in the gym at work this past week and there was a man in a t-shirt, nicely-pressed slacks, and heavy-looking dress shoes running on the treadmill. It looked uncomfortable. He was loudly commenting to the man on the adjacent treadmill "Yeah, I haven't worked out in like 8 months!" and then proceeded to crank the treadmill pace up to 12.5 mph. Genius! As I listened/watched the man plod along in his dress shoes -- he sounded like a Clydesdale whose hooves had been soaked in cement, were left to dry, and now was galloping full force on them -- I just knew something was going to happen. And something did. He lost his footing and fell, luckily catching himself before flying off the treadmill. Thank goodness he was not injured -- both for himself, and the fact that if he had been, I would be an a-hole for relaying this incident and laughing every time I think about it.
People that are heavily involved in Medieval reenactments: No explanation needed, but in case you needed a reminder, click away.
Happy Monday, all. Men: be protective of your manhood this week. Also, depending on how my schedule works out, it could be a good writing week. Stay tuned.
Titled "Sales Fail," I found this on my new favorite website, failblog.org, a website so simplistically brilliant I'm mad at myself for not having come up with it. You should check it out.
Back with PotW. Sorry about the hiatus last week. My extremely limited concentration and writing powers were being focused elsewhere.
This reminds me of the time JT set the large dumpster outside of our apt complex on fire with a checkbook. See, before the invention of the paper-shredder, JT burnt his unused/old checkbooks. And then, after putting out the checkbook flames, he would throw them in a dumpster full of other combustibles. One night at the end of a semester, we were cleaning the apartment and I looked out the window to see that something was burning in our complex's large dumpster. Fast. I yelled at JT to grab some water and we rushed out. I dove in headfirst and began pouring water in while sucking in toxic burning styrofoam fumes. It was like Backdraft and Ladder 49 mashed all into one.* The source of the inferno? You guessed it: An old, burnt checkbook.
I still "joke" that I am going to sue JT if I develop lung cancer.
Brother-in-law Ben sent this to me a while back. Only a I've-been-standing-in-line-for-hours-screaming-giddily-for-the-Twilight-movie-opening caliber lapse of judgement stopped me from posting it earlier. I don't know what I was thinking.
One word. Three syllables. A-MA-ZING:
Some comments from friends/family so far:
I can't believe I just spent 4 and a half minutes watching that. Unbelievable mullet...I really don't know what to say...
i just got blazed, and I loved it.
I couldn't finish it. it makes me feel bad for being alive
I like to go out and shoot some hoops but not before I eat my fruit loops
Okay, I've strayed and posted a video instead of a photo, but if a picture is worth a thousand words, a video of something like this is worth an unabridged version ofWar & Peace. I have no idea where, but WJ found this a few years ago and I watch it when I feel like I'm not doing anything productive or worthwhile with my life. It always helps. Nothing quite like watching others reenact D&D to boost my own self-confidence.
Confession: Until a few years ago, I was ignorant. I thought D&D reenactors occupied the backwoods of some hillbilly state. Unfortunately, this naive assumption was dead wrong. I was driving home one night in Provo around 3AM, came to a stop at a red light, and glanced at the park to my right.
It was one of those strange realization moments. Remember in The Matrix when Neo takes the blue pill, wakes up in the real world, goes on that slippery slide, gets picked up by Morpheus's ship, pukes all over because he's completely disoriented, and then Morpheus states matter-of-factly: "Welcome to the real world." I felt like all of those things had just happened to me -- the urge to puke was especially strong -- in that split second when I realized that a D&D reenactment was taking place in the city I currently lived. I guess I had to come to grips that this was part of the real world.
Can someone make a documentary of this? Please??
End note: You know, as I was typing this I saw a commercial for the Snuggie, and I wondered how they are still in business. Suddenly, I not only know the answer to that question, but also who their biggest customers are.
Hannibal Lechter. Darth Vader. The Terminator. The Joker. Ben Wade (3:10 to Yuma). These are the characters that stand out to us as the archetypal villains. It is their disarming charisma, eccentricities, sociopathic tendencies, and calculating genius that captivate us as an audience.
And while I acknowledge the actors who played these roles and their stellar performances, I would like to recognize one who never shows up on any of the lists. Many of you don't recognize the actor's name (Christopher McDonald) who played him, but I assure you he is one of the most underrated villains of our time:
Shooter McGavin in Happy Gilmore.
What other villain has delivered a deluge of classic lines that we quote to each other all of the time?
Shooter McGavin [SM]: I eat pieces of sh** like you for breakfast. Happy Gilmore: [laughing] you eat pieces of sh** for breakfast? SM: No... I...
SM: I was down on 18 the other day, looked to my left, and there was two fat naked bikers having sex in the woods…how am I supposed to CHIP with that going on, Greg?!
Sm: Yeah, right! And Grizzly Adams had a beard. Lee Trevino: Grizzly Adams did have a beard.
SM: I had to hit it off ofFrankenstein's Fat foot here.
SM: Damn you people. Go back to your shanties.
SM: Let's get one thing straight, this is Shooter's tour. I've worked hard my whole life, paid my dues, and now it's Shooter's turn. And Shooter's not about to let his reign at the top be spoiled by some freak, sideshow, clown.
Here are two things to consider about the extent of his villainous-ness:
1) Would we have cheered so ardently for Happy Gilmore to win, had the anti-Happy not been there? Would the plot have been so riveting and compellingwithout Shooter? Do you remember the dialogue that takes place between the Joker and Batman at the end of The Dark Knight, when Joker is hanging upside down and babbling on and on?
This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object...You won't kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness, and I won't kill you, because you're just too much fun. I think you and I are destined to do this forever.
Can't you see Happy and Shooter having this face-to-face? No? OK, fine.
2) Any time you see Christopher McDonald in other movies, you and everyone else you're with will invariably point and shout in recognition: "It's Shooter!!" This is the rule 100% of the time, without exception. If that's not evidence for an unforgettable performance
Christopher McDonald should get a lifetime achievement award. End of story.
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The picture quality is poor, but it says "Why was the tomato blushing?"
