So, why haven’t I been writing lately? Turns out, when you move to Hawaii, you have to sell everything you own first. And, it turns out, selling everything you own is a fucking pain in the ass that takes up every free minute of your life.
I mention this so that I can fully illustrate my disgust with today’s topic. It takes something insanely stupid to get me motivated enough to hop back on the computer, and today I found it at a Red Robin restaurant.
Has it really come to this? Are Americans actually so lazy that they can’t be bothered to raise their heads to watch TV? Do we need TVs in the floor? You wouldn’t want to miss a single second of Maury Povich while waiting to cram a Fiesta Southwestern Ranch Bacon Spicy Beef Jerky Slim Jim Burger with extra bacon crumble and a side of bacon juice down your fucking throat. Who’s the real father of the baby? I don’t know but there’s a good chance he’s in back “cooking” my “food.”
We deserve to have our economy collapse. We deserve Donald Trump as our President. We deserve Jersey Shore and the Kardashians. We are pathetic. It’s over.
There’s no part of this video that is funny or worth joking around about. If you think this cunt is a GIANT CUNT then turn it into something positive and text REDCROSS to 90999 to make a $10 donation to help the earthquake & tsunami victims in Japan.
By the way, here’s what it was like to be in the middle of that little “tsunami thing.”
Hey hand-made crafting hipster nerds, let’s move on to the next fad, shall we? If I see one more cutesy retro squirrel I am going to drop my pants, pull out my wang and fuck it. I don’t care what it is, it’s getting fucked. Letterpress card… fucked! Pillow… fucked! T-shirt (on a hanger or being worn)… fucked! Tattoo on your face… FUCKED!
Have you ever gone to a Renegade Craft Fair? Just try and find something without a whimsical cute thing on it. What is this desire to live life as a 6-year-old? Yeah, it was fun being a kid but I’ve moved on to more worthwhile things and I enjoy doing adult things like driving a car and putting breasts in my hands. Do you realize I could go buy a chainsaw RIGHT NOW if I felt like it? That’s what being a grown up is all about, boobs and chainsaws.
PUT A BIRD ON IT!
The owners of this dog might like to believe their dog is saying “I love you” but, in reality, this poor dog is saying “Please stop saying those words to me, I don’t know what they mean, I just want to watch a little TV on this romantic four post bed before I go take a shit in the living room. I hate yoooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuu!”
You know how I know dogs can’t say I love you? Because you never see videos of Mexican dogs saying “Te Amo” or Chinese dogs saying “我愛你.” Apparently dogs can only express love in English. More evidence that AMERICA RULES! Yeah, that’s right, America is the only country that speaks English!
Why don’t these genius talking dogs ever proclaim anything other than their unconditional love for their jackass owners? You never see a cute Youtube clip of some dog saying “Let’s go for a walk” or “Toss me that tennis ball” or “I honestly believe Lee Harvey Oswald did, in fact, act aloooooone!”
Remember those kids in high school who would randomly wear their clothes backwards one day as some sort of sad protest against prom or something? They were the kind of nerds who didn’t try to disappear into the background but would instead call jocks “homo erectus” right to their face about two seconds prior to being tied up with their own 25 foot Dr. Who scarf and stuffed into a book bag. These are the same people who are now charging you $500 to eat menus and inhale walnut air. The nerds have won.
Sorry, I know this makes me an “old man” who “hates fun” but I find molecular gastronomy to be insufferable and fucking annoying. I honestly think I would rather *GULP* go to dinner at Guy Fieri’s house than have some asshole sell me a frozen raisin that was aged for two weeks in a room with a stereo playing nothing but Belle and Sebastian.
Fuck you and your stupid edible menu. Oh my GOD, I relate to nothing!
Well, it’s official, the universe will implode on February 5th, 2011 at 11:30 Eastern Standard Time.
The earth will rip apart and just as the molten goo from the center of our planet begins to melt your skin off, you will have just enough time to reflect on all the time you wasted carefully placing 20 pillows on your bed every morning. You will beg God for another chance to live life to the fullest but your screaming prayers will go unanswered, because the instant Dana Carvey and Linkin Park share the Saturday Night Live stage, heaven will be the first thing to explode. Poof… no more God. Satan is calling the shots now, pal. It’s over.
It’s about time someone had the courage to speak out against these pieces of shit.
Now, before you waste your time (although I’m guessing most of you are unemployed and have plenty of time on your hands)… anyway, before you waste your time telling me your tips for “the most awesome” scrambled eggs, please allow me to stop you, I don’t want to fucking hear it.
It took me decades to finally realize I have never actually enjoyed a single plate of scrambled eggs. I used to be brainwashed just like you and found myself charmed by the warm and fuzzy reputation of scrambled eggs. I mean, just look at those cute little yellow pillows of protein begging to be cuddled by your tongue. Well, much like a cute little bear cub, these fuckers snap in an instant and destroy you.
How is it possible that eggs over-easy can taste so perfectly delicious but as soon as you scramble that sucker up it tastes like a wad of toilet paper soaked in egg water? Also, the toilet paper has poop on it.
And while I’m at it, fuck you omelets! The only reason you are slightly better tasting than scrambled eggs is because you have so much shit in you, you are barely even eggs anymore. Such an ego on you, omelets. And how the fuck do you even spell omelet? I want it to be omelette but spell check is making fun of me for that choice. That’s how I spelled it here but suddenly it’s not good enough for my spell check. Even my computer hates whipped eggs!
Why is the universe trying to kill me?
I already know that I’m the only person who cares about this so feel free to discuss any topic of your choice. I don’t care, It’s my list and I am sticking to my boring topic. Blogging fever, CATCH IT!
Dear Music Video Director Jerks,
Can you hear the slow clap I am currently performing in your honor? It’s so slow that my first clap occurred on March 15th, 1993 and the next scheduled clap will take place on August 3rd of this year. This slow clap is so fucking epic that I don’t anticipate the pace to pick up to its unstoppable fast clap ending until the year 2051. I have planned the culmination of my slow clap to coincide with the 100 year anniversary* of the microphone you love to use in every music video since the birth of MTV in the early 80s.
I get it, you think the Shure 55 series mics have more “presence” on film and make the singer look “sexy” when they inevitably wrap their hands around the mic and press their disease-ridden mouths up against it, but maybe it’s time to move on to the next cliché. Hey, it’s OK, don’t cry! I’m sure if we work together we can find some untapped cliché to exploit. How about singers singing into giant, realistic dildos? If Justin Bieber was singing into a big, veiny rubber cock I might actually start watching music videos again.
So let’s just put the wacky 50s microphones away and move on to big rubber dicks.
Thank you in advance.
*I think it’s about 100 years. If I’m wrong I don’t need some microphone nerd telling me otherwise.
For the record, I had no idea if this Creed video actually used a Shure 55 microphone but I had a feeling. I was right. I’m always right.
Also for the record, I had no idea if any Alice in Chains videos used this mic but, once again, I was right. I should also point out that this song rules.