Ricky Gervais is Funny

Hello everyone!

I suppose I should be writing, but instead I've been enjoying Ricky Gervais's Animals on the YouTubes. Here it is, all eight parts of it. Enjoy it before it's removed:

















There you go. Free comedic entertainment from real professionals. Just try finding that on one of those other blogs!

Rob

An Update and An Unfortunate Choice of Words

Hello everyone!

I apologize for not posting anything in a while, but lately I've been giving writing a novel another shot. This one is entirely different than the last attempt, though I haven't given up entirely on my first plot idea. Anyway, my hope is that I someday "get paid for this," especially since hardly anybody is hiring right now. Or at the very least, I'll simply finish something I start. And if it ever gets published, then the four or five people who read this blog can waste even more time reading the book. Or not.

But fret not, my dear readers! I'll still be posting here on a semi-regular basis, so check back often! And I'm really great at starting projects but terrible at finishing them, so who knows where this will go. But I hope I can use my blog as a way to update my progress (while not giving anything away) in order to keep myself motivated. I also might ask y'all for suggestions whenever I get stuck.

In the meantime, here's something Greg sent me a few weeks ago not long after the Super Bowl:

Of course, Roethlisberger went to Pittsburgh with the next pick and the rest, as they say, is history. As a Bills fan looking back on the 13th and 22nd picks being spent on Lee Evans and J.P. Losman, respectively, I still can't stop biting the pillow that they didn't package whatever it took to move up three spots and grab Big Ben.

Hmm.

For the moment, let's ignore the usual football-related innuendos such as these:

• "He got good penetration on that one"
• Wide receiver
• Splitting the middle
• "He's looking for the hole!"
• Lining up the slot
• Tight end
• "He nailed his man from behind!"

Okay, maybe we won't "ignore" them. But this still begs the question: why is this guy "biting the pillow"? Does he know what "pillow biting" means?

Let's consult the Urban Dictionary, shall we?

1. pillow-biter

An exceptionally vigorous butt-pounding between men in the dorsal-ventral position, generally noteworthy for its combination of depth, force and velocity, such that the poundee is transported to an otherworldly, orally-fixated state of extreme "hurt-so-good" pleasure as to unconsciously bite down on a pillow, duvet, forearm, Jack Russel terrier, or anything else that happens to come with close proximity of his mouth.

Now, I know absolutely nothing about this Nick Bakay, but I do not think what he wrote means what he thinks it means. And while, in theory, there's nothing wrong with being a pillow-biter if that's what floats your boat, there is something noteworthy about a sports writer proclaiming to the whole world that he became one in response to the results of a football draft.

Maybe there's something more to all the innuendos and ass patting than meets the eye. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Rob

The Winningest Win of All Time!

Hello everyone!

The search is over. I have found the Winningest Win! of All Time:



Tremendous!

Rob

I Really Know How to Drill a Hole!

Hello everyone!

And I'm back!

My new AC adapter finally arrived yesterday. I paid extra for the two-day shipping, but it actually took five days to get here since it took me a day to realize that trying to find one in Eugene was probably an exercise in futility, and then I had to wait two extra days for the weekend so they could ship it out on Monday. It's a good thing I paid extra!

But it's here now, and that's what matters. This new one is much better than the old one, too, because it's at a 90 degree angle unlike the original. I hope the new adapter outlasts the laptop, and by that I mean that I hope my adapter lasts a long, long time, not that my laptop dies soon. That would suck for many, many reasons.

For the time being, I'm just savoring being able to get online whenever I want. It's sad and ridiculous how much I depend on the Internets. When I was without, I actually found myself watching TV to (try to) keep myself entertained.

*shudders*

Once the adapter arrived, I adjusted much more easily than when the adapter stopped working (which I didn't discover until my battery was mostly dead). I would've posted a blog yesterday, but I had dozens of emails, messages, and mandatory website readings to catch up on, which kept me busy all yesterday evening. Now I'm finally caught back up!

Earlier this evening, while Cathy was on her laptop, she started giggling in response to something she read. Of course, I had to ask her what was so funny, and she told me that she was laughing at something one of her friends on Facebook had posted. It was one of those messages in which the receiver was supposed to do something and then repost the message with the receiver's results added. In this case, the receiver was supposed to Google his or her name followed by "likes to" with the whole thing in quotation marks. The receiver would then post the most popular or the funniest results. So basically, Cathy searched "Cathy likes to" followed by "Catherine likes to" and was laughing at what came up. Unfortunately, the results were inappropriate for a family blog such as this one, but I'm sure people who really want to know can figure it out for themselves.

Naturally, I had to test this out using my name. My results were similarly inappropriate for a family blog such as this one, so here they are...

First, I Googled "Rob likes to". Here are the highlights:

• Rob Likes To Get His Friends Drunk
• Rob likes to go fast
• Rob likes to sing
• Getting nekkid? Rob likes to watch...
• Rob likes to smell feet!!!!!
• Rob likes to be the center of attention. Not because people are gawking at my date’s freakishly large boobs.

Not bad. But what happens when I use my given name and Google "Robert likes to"?

• But because the hole needs to be really clean Robert likes to go a little bigger and use a 14-inch reamer to expand the hole.

Stop right there! I don't need to go any farther down the Google result list because nothing can top that!

Of course, I had to know more about this result. It turns out that it's an article that's posted on some construction website, and it's about drilling holes for pipes and conduit to run to homes and other buildings. The best part is it's chock-full of innuendos! Take a look:

• When a hole needs to be drilled that others are having problems with, Bison gets the call.
• Robert... has a real feel for drilling a hole. Although he has many secrets, a lot of his success comes down to just plain experience.
• "One time a guy told me he can finesse a hole, I don't know how you do that," says Robert.
• Robert says in this area he drills at about 30 feet an hour or about 10 minutes per rod... adding, "you can really mess things up if you go too fast."
• Robert puts about 42 gallons a minute in the hole. Bob added, "We like to see the mud a consistency of a heavy milkshake. If it gets slushy it's too thick."
• "You can squeeze fiber in a hole, but gas line is another story," says Robert.
• Running large gas lines requires the use of a hole opener if the machine can't drill a large enough hole in one pass.
• ...they can use hole openers to ream the hole when necessary.
• Bearing and seal package technology as well as pressure compensated lubrication systems... are also giving greater penetration rates.
• What sets this type of split set hole opener apart is that it there is better utilization of available force which results in better performance, improving the penetration rate. One rotation of the cone provides complete bottom hole coverage.

Awesome.

Well, I hope y'all managed to survive this past week without my eighth-grade-level humor to keep you entertained. Stay tuned for more Beavis and Butthead-inspired wisecracks!

Rob

A Forced Break

Hello everyone!

My laptop AC adapter died, so I won't be posting for a few days until the new one arrives. I'm clumsily posting this one by using Cathy's laptop, which I'm unfamiliar with and feels all wrong.

In the meantime, you can always click on one of the links on the right side of my blog to keep you entertained. I recommend The Sneeze, Big Fat Whale, and The Eyeballing Game. See y'all soon!

Rob

Birthdays, Anniversaries, Sesquicentennials, Bad Songs

Hello everyone!

Today is a day of happy birthdays and happy anniversaries:

• Happy 200th birthday to Charles Darwin.
• Happy 200th birthday to Abraham Lincoln.
• Happy 100th birthday to the NAACP.

That's a pretty impressive list, and the birthdays are nice, neat round numbers. Of course, the numbers are based on Earth making complete revolutions around the sun. That means that if Earth moved slightly slower or faster, we wouldn't be discussing this now. Also, these birthdays are based on multiples of a number system that itself is based on the amount of fingers people have, so if humans had eight fingers instead of ten and we used an octal system instead of a decimal system, we also wouldn't be talking about these two people and this organization today. Sure, a cynic like me might point out how arbitrary these milestones actually are. But that's no fun, so YAY! Happy birthdays!

Also, happy 150th birthday (a couple days early) to Oregon. Saturday will mark Oregon's Sesquicentennial. When I lived in Michigan in 1987, they had this big statewide sesquicentennial celebration that included a stupid commercial in which idiots in shopping malls would try to pronounce the word "sesquicentennial," inevitably screwing it up and sounding like complete morons. What a way to promote your state, eh? "Come to Michigan and socialize with illiterate people at the mall!" I think that would've made a great slogan.

Instead, they went with, "Say Yes to Michigan!" This was also during Nancy Reagan's asinine "Just Say No" program, so as a 12-year-old I was quite confused. My confusion never went away as I got older.

Anyway, the new slogan also led to another round of commercials, this time with images of beautiful Michigan scenery juxtaposed with a horribly corny song apparently sung by the choir from the movie, Sister Act, before the nuns became famous movie stars. Here are the lyrics as I remember them:

Say yes! yes! yes!
To Michigaaaaaaaaan!

Say yes! yes! yes!
Saaaayyyyy yyyeeeeesssss!!

Catchy, eh?

Incidentally, if I keep using the word eh, it's because people from the Upper Peninsula--more commonly known as the U.P. (pronounced Da Yoopee)--were notorious for saying eh. Da Yoopers (as they were often referred to by us lowlanders) were also stereotyped as carrying many of the same dialectical traits as Canadians and Minnesotans, including saying yah or youbetcha instead of yes, and pronouncing the word "about" as aboat. Like any good stereotype, I never once met anyone from the U.P. who actually talked like that during the seven years I lived there. Nevertheless, I usually crack up whenever I see the van in Eugene with the bumper sticker that says, "Say yah to da U.P., eh!", though I'm also usually the only one in my group doing so, and the rest look at me as if I have three nostrils.

But anyway, there are no commercials for Oregon's sesquicentennial, at least not any that I've seen, not that I watch much TV. I guess that also means no cheesy songs to get stuck in my head and still remember 22 years later. Not that I'm complaining.

So happy birthday to Darwin, Lincoln, the NAACP, Oregon and my mom, whose birthday is Sunday. Crap, I better get a card out in the mail.

Oh, and since I'm discussing birthdays and anniversaries, happy ten year anniversary to Bill Clinton's being acquitted by the Senate during his impeachment trial. Ah, the good old days when the President was impeached on a technicality. The lesson to President Obama is firing judges for their politics (or lack thereof), allowing or even ordering torture, eliminating habeus corpus and due process, wiretapping phone lines without a warrant, lying to start a war, using tax dollars to fund religious groups, rolling back environmental regulations, civil rights, and civil liberties, playing guitar and celebrating John McCain's birthday while doing nothing for people dying in a flooded city, absolutely trashing the economy, racking up the biggest governmental debt not only in the history of this country but in the history of any country that has ever existed, and so on is all okay and apparently not worthy of impeachment, or even putting impeachment on the table. But don't lie about having sex during a several year long multimillion dollar witch hunt, or you might join the elite club of Clinton and Andrew Johnson (and Nixon if he hadn't quit first).

Rob

A Case of the Mondays

Hello everyone!

I didn't post yesterday because it was one of the worst days I've had in a long time. Seriously, I should've just stayed in bed all day. Now I know I don't usually whine about things like this on my blog--oh wait, that's exactly what I do. Well, then let the whining commence!

It started out innocently enough. I woke up on time, which is pretty easy for me to do on Mondays since I don't have to be to work until 11 am. Before I left the house at about 10:30, which gave me plenty of time to get to work on time, I looked out the window and saw a nice, beautiful, almost summer-like day. I stepped outside and thought it might even be warm enough to leave my jacket at home, but then I figured I should at least take a fleece with me just in case. So far, so good.

I made it to campus in about five minutes, which is normal since I live nearby, and I checked the east lot for a place to park. The period between 10am and 1 pm is inevitably packed at LCC, and finding a spot can be tough, but people tend to avoid the east lot because it's fairly small. However, I like it since the walk to Tutor Central is not long but passes under a bunch of cool trees, and some feral cats live along the way. Anyway, as I pulled into the lot, I had a choice between turning right or left. I decided to turn left, and as I drove forward, I noticed in my rear view mirror a car backing out behind me and a third car quickly parking in the spot. Had I simply chosen to turn the other way, that space would've been mine. It was a sign of things to come.

But at this point, I wasn't worried. It was still really early, the day was nice and sunny, and I knew I'd find another spot soon. Sure enough, I saw a woman walking away from campus and toward a car parked right in front of me. I thought about how fortunate I was. All I had to do was wait for a moment, and I'd have a great spot. I was also so early that I could take my time getting to the center, and I would have plenty of time to stop and chat if I saw someone I knew. I thought of all this as I watched the woman get to her car, place her backpack on the trunk lid, and get out her cell phone. I figured she'd just gotten a call or something, and so she'd just answer her phone while getting in the car and driving away. No problem, right?

Then she started either dialing or texting--I couldn't tell which. By this time my car had been idling in the middle of the roadway with my left turn signal blinking for at least 30 seconds. The woman was fidgeting around with her phone and standing next to her car while her backpack was still on her trunk lid.

"She sure is taking her sweet time," I thought, and I gave her at least another minute. After all, it was a nice day, and I liked the song that was playing on my CD player, and like I mentioned I was still pretty early. But eventually, I started to feel guilty about my car idling and contributing so much carbon to global warming, so I rolled down the window and asked her, "Hey, are you leaving?"

"No!"

She didn't just say the word, "No," but she said it as if I had just asked the most inane, ridiculous question she'd ever heard in her life. She also gave me a look that I thought should be reserved only for the creepy guy at the bar who propositions women with this line: "I'm a bird watcher, and I'm looking for a Big-Breasted Bed Thrasher. Have you seen one?" I sheepishly looked away, turned off my blinker, and moved on.

After driving around the rest of the lot a couple times and finding nothing, I decided to try the south lot. I don't like the south lot as much as the east one because on the walk to the center there are hardly any trees, there are no feral cats, and it's usually 2-3 times longer of a walk to the center than from the east lot. I also don't like the south lot because the layout is all wrong since it's on a hill. This means there are a few long rows instead of many short ones, so if you see a person backing out of a space up ahead, the odds are that someone else will get there before you, and meanwhile a spot will open where you just were, except now you're 1/4 mile away from it.

Well, guess what happened to me? I saw plenty of spots open up, but then cars magically appeared out of nowhere to pull into them before I could get there. It's not like anyone was driving aggressively (well, anyone other than me), but the timing was just right for them and all wrong for me. Seriously, I saw at least a half dozen spots open and then be taken before I could get anywhere near them.

I finally found a spot, and it was way, way back in the southwest corner of the lot, the second-to-worst spot on campus. There literally is one other parking spot on the entire LCC campus that is farther away from Tutor Central than this one, and it was right next to mine. It was also available, but I had to draw the line somewhere.

But still, I thought, this was no big deal. "It's a nice day, and I can use the exercise," I thought as I pulled into the space. Besides, I was early, right? Wrong! Just before I turned off the key, I looked at the clock and noticed it was 10:55! I had just spent a whole 20 minutes driving around LCC parking lots to look for a place to park, and now I was almost late. I should've just taken the bus--it would've been much quicker!

Once I started my trek toward the Center Building, I noticed something strange happening around me. Car after car started leaving the campus, and within a minute or so at least a dozen spots had opened up. It was as if there was some big conspiracy à la the Truman Show, and everyone had gotten the message that I had parked and they were now free to go home. I seriously considered going back to the car and moving to a better spot, but I knew that, with the way my luck had been going, all the empty spots all just fill up before I got to them, as would my second-crappiest spot, and I'd end up parking in THE crappiest spot and being late.

Of course, along the way I saw a few people I know, people I would've really enjoyed talking with, but I had to settle for a quick wave as I hurried to get to the center on time. Amazingly, I made it.

Nothing terrible happened while I was at work, but I felt distracted all day long, and I certainly wasn't at my best. I'm not sure why, but I don't think I was the only one. Near the end of my shift, it started to get quite busy, so I stayed a few extra minutes to help out. When I finished with the student I had been working with, I looked outside and noticed it had just started hailing. Remember that nice, sunny day I had woken up to? It was now a distant memory. Summer-like, my ass!

So I trudged westward through the hailstorm to my car. Because of where I parked, I had to walk directly into the cold, wet wind instead of walking to the east lot with the wind at my back. I also had to walk 2-3 times as far as I would have if I'd been able to park at the east lot, which meant I was in the cold, wet hailstorm for 2-3 times longer than I could've been. Of course, I only had on a fleece instead of a jacket because it was such a beautiful sunny day earlier. During the walk, I wondered how I ever survived living in North Idaho and northern Michigan, but somehow I don't ever remember it being as cold as my walk across the parking lot, although I'm sure it was.

I finally reached my car, started it up, and turned on the heater. While it was warming up and I was waiting to leave, I looked out the window and saw the hailstorm stop. It had started just before I went outside, and now it stopped just after I got into my car. I wanted to cry. Instead, I went home, made some hot chocolate, wrapped a warm blanket around me, and watched television.

Later, I wondered why the universe seemed to be my enemy that day. Was it the full moon? Was it because it was a Monday? Maybe I just had a case of the Mondays.



Getting my ass kicked? That would've been the perfect way to top off the day I had.

Rob

Brewing Pics, The Truffle Shuffle, and My 200th Post!

Hello everyone!

Welcome to my 200th blog posting (if you don't count my posts on other blogs, that is). Hooray! I have no big fanfare for this milestone, but that stuff is pretty overrated. Besides, I have other things to talk about!

First off, I promised photos of the beer adventure, so here goes:

Here is the wort happily boiling away on two burners on the stove. There's not a whole lot to do at this step except to just occasionally stir it and sit back and sip some beer. Hey, I can do that!

After boiling the wort for an hour, we needed to cool it off before trying to pour it into the carboy for fermentation, or else we'd have a repeat of the disaster from last week. The helpful guy at the Home Fermenter Center suggested placing the kettle into a sink full of cold water to cool it faster, and it worked quite well.

At one point, Matt took off his shoes, and I sent him to soak smelly feet in the tub because I was worried the wort might absorb some of his raunchy feet smell.

Actually, he's just washing and sanitizing the spanking new carboy. It's too tall to fit under the faucet at our kitchen sink, so we have to use the bathtub faucet. I don't know why Matt put his feet in the tub as well. Maybe he thought we were making wine.

There's the shiny new carboy. It looks just like the old one, except the bottom isn't blown out. Having a bottom that isn't blown out helps it hold liquid more easily.

Once the wort had cooled to the appropriate temperature, we transferred it to the carboy and added the yeast.

Here it is in its new home for one to three weeks. At the top is a rubber stopper with a hose that goes to a small bucket of water. The reason for this is that once the wort begins to ferment, it needs to ventilate. The yeast "eats" the sugars in the wort that was extracted from the barley and oats, and then it "pees" alcohol and "farts" carbon dioxide. I apologize for the scientific terminology in the last sentence. Anyway, the carbon dioxide is emitted as a gas, which takes up more volume than a liquid. So there has to be a way for it to escape, or else it will at least blow the lid off if not completely breaking the glass.

However, we can't just leave the wort exposed to the air since there are nasty things in the air that could ruin the beer, such as bacteria, dust, flies, etc. So with the bucket of water and the hose, the gas bubbles out through the water in the bucket, but the bad stuff can't go through the water and up the hose to get into the carboy! It's brilliant! Not that I invented the concept or anything...

Here's a shot from Saturday morning. I had decided to let the wort ferment in the spare bedroom because I could crank up the heat to 68 degrees and close the door. We might be freezing in the rest of the house, but at least the yeast is comfortable! It turned out to be a good idea because the yeast started going to work right away, as you can see from the foam in the photo. Since the photo was taken, the foam has expanded so much that it's traveled all the way up the hose to the bucket of water, and now the water is brown and smells like stale beer. But it's bubbling faster and more rapidly than any batch I've made yet, which means things are progressing nicely!

If it stops bubbling before this weekend, I might try bottling it then. If not, maybe I'll try in two weeks or so. We'll see.

* * *

Switching gears a bit, today Cathy and I ran walked the Truffle Shuffle. It's a two mile race to raise money for Committed Partners for Youth, which I don't know much about and quite honestly don't care much about. But at the end of the race you get a chocolate truffle, and this was an excuse to get out of the house and do something outside, so we decided to go ahead and give it a go. We had to register, and of course we were given our race numbers.

I like to post photos of myself like these in order to keep me humble. This one is exceptionally terrible. What's with the stupid head tilt? And look at how white and pasty my skin looks! I look as if I've just served 30 days in the hole!

Moving on, we walked the route, and we finished in about 42 minutes, although I think we would have finished sooner if the crowd hadn't been so huge. The first leg was exceptionally slow going because of all the people--the crowd was moving much slower than my usual walking pace--until things began to thin out. But that doesn't really matter all that much. What was important to me was that I finished, and that I didn't finish last. Fortunately there were really old people and a few people in wheelchairs, although even some of them beat me! Cathy would've definitely finished sooner as well if I hadn't been slowing her down with my craptastic knee. But she's a trooper, and so she was willing to slum it with me and the rest of the gimps bringing up the rear.

Had I been thinking, I would've taken a few shots of the race and the crowd. But sometimes I forget the obvious. Oops.

The crowd was an interesting mix, even though there were way too many kids for my taste. But a lot of people brought their dogs, so it all balanced out. There were a few people dressed like truffles, and there was one guy who ran the whole course while also, as far as I could tell, juggling those bowling pin shaped juggling things.

I also had a lot of fun hearing bits and pieces of other people's conversations as we passed each other. Here are my three favorites:

• "I mean, if you're peeing fire, you should just go see the doctor."

• "Just because she owns a book, that doesn't make her a witch."

• "You've doomed her to a lifetime of making fun of round-headed kids."

Eugene is such a great place to overhear strange snippets of conversation. I'm considering submitting these to Overheard Everywhere.

* * *

Anyway, I want to send a hearty thank you to the three or four of you who have kept up with my blog since the beginning and have put up with all 200 of my goofy, sometimes paranoid and/or idiotic rantings. I seriously think about each of you whenever I write, and I'm glad I can share a part of me with you, even if "I'm not getting paid for this."

Let's see if you can stomach another 200...

Rob

Round Two

Hello everyone!

Round two of the Oatmeal Stout beer brewing adventure happened tonight, and it seemed to go relatively smoothly. I mean, no carboys exploded, and very little wort ended up on the kitchen floor, so Mission Accomplished! If you have no idea what I'm talking about, go here to get caught up.

As it stands now, the carboy is full of wort and yeast, and the whole shebang is doing its fermentation thing in the spare bedroom. Tomorrow I'll post some photos of our adventure. But for now, I'm going to bed because I'm tired. Brewing and drinking beer takes a lot out of a person!

In the meantime, the answer to the What Is It contest is: a twig on a sewer grate. Nobody guessed correctly, so I'm keeping the grand prize for myself! Oh wait, there isn't one.

Rob

Mmm, Cereal

Hello everyone!

As many of you know, I've been on the hunt for a career-type job that will pay enough that Cathy and I might be able to buy a house at some point. Or one that if Cathy decides she hates her job and needs to quit and try her hand at palmistry or whatever, we won't starve in the meantime. Of course, I currently have a part-time tutoring gig, which I enjoy very much, but the pay is pretty sucktastic. If money was not an issue, I'd be content to just tutor from now until I'm too old to do so, but alas, we live in a capitalistic rat race, so money is an issue. So as a result, I've added "looking for a real job" to my daily routine.

If there's one silver lining about looking for a job in this turd of an economy, it's that it doesn't take a lot of time. There is hardly anything out there right now.

When I'm searching, I often get sidetracked and look at help-wanted postings that I have absolutely no interest in doing, if only out of pure curiosity. That was the case with this little gem, that I found on craigslist tonight. I'm not sure if the typos are accidental or planned, but I'm leaning toward the latter (as a writing and grammar tutor, I sure hope so):

Audition: Casting actors for eipisodic thriller (Eugene)
Reply to: byron4321@yahoo.com
Date: 2009-02-05, 7:01PM PST

We are in need of 5 passionate Actors. Three men and two women.

2 Women: Must look between 25-30 yrs. old. Out-doorsy, athletic/active appearance. Both must strong versatile actors.

2 Men: 30-50 one's a detective, one's an attorney. Typical appearance befitting the role. Must be able to create multi-layered deep characters.

1 Man: 25-40 Mysterious cereal killer. Imposing and physically aggressive.

We are a creative troupe of perspiring filmmakers. Our latest project is an episodic psycho-thriller. Auditions will be in two weeks. Filming will begin in late March. Please send acting resume/experience and a headshot(if you have one)
You will be emailed character descriptions and sides when we receive your email. We have many projects coming in the future so those who audition and are not cast in this project may be used in other projects. Contact Byron via email. byron4321@yahoo.com

I would really love to see a film made by "perspiring filmmakers" about "cereal" killers. I hope they do well.

Rob

Win Or FAIL???

Hello everyone!

It seems that some prankster computer wizards have been hacking into roadside electronic construction signs and changing the messages. Here's some of their handiwork:



Is this a Win! or FAIL!? I mean, it's obviously a Win! from the standpoint of humor, though I think there's room for improvement. But it's also a FAIL! in terms of the sign FAILing to warn motorists about upcoming traffic dangers. So which is it, Win! or FAIL!? I'll let you, the viewer, be the judge...

 Hacking into highway construction signs and changing the message is...

• 
  
  Win!


• 
  
  FAIL!


• 
  
  Fin?


• 
  
  WAIL!


• 
  
  What a stupid poll! Thanks for wasting my time, asshat!

view results

I would be remiss if I didn't give a big thanks to Greg for the link/idea! But instead, I'll just take all the credit for it.

Rob

Derek the Abstinence Clown

Hello everyone!

Apparently having sex before marriage is just like juggling machetes over someone's prone body. It's also the same as abusing tobacco, alcohol, and illegal drugs (but apparently prescription drugs are okay to abuse, or at least not as bad as premarital sex). Why do I say this? Well, that's because I heard it from Derek the Abstinence Clown:



And just think, this, er, clown is being paid by an organization that received $800,000 from the federal government in 2007. That means that our tax dollars are financing this clown to scare the crap out of kids instead of being honest with them. That way, when they do have sex (and most of them will), they won't bother to use protection because what's the point? Derek the Abstinence Clown told them that all sex before marriage is bad. Or some boy will get hepatitis from having unprotected anal sex with his girlfriend because she's "saving herself (her vagina) for marriage," and they don't know the dangers because all they've been taught is sex before marriage is bad.

Seriously, who thought this was a good idea?

If they really want to keep kids from having sex, they should give comprehensive sex education and spend a lot of time discussing venereal diseases like they did when I was in school. Once the girls hear terminology like "thick, cottage cheese-like discharge," I guarantee they won't put out to the boys until they're at least 30. Or at least they won't put out to guys who are like I was in high school.

Rob

RIP: Music, c. Stone Age-2009

Hello everyone!

Well, it was a good run, but all things must eventually die. Thanks to the evil, greedy, capitalist bastards at Microsoft, music is now officially the latest victim of the Grim Reaper:



That's it. It's over. Microsoft's SongSmith is the final, fatal blow. Sure, it's not the only culprit. When Guitar Hero and Rock Band came out, the writing was on the wall. Actually, with hindsight we should've noticed the writing at least since Meat Loaf's first platinum album.

But now there's no point in trying to keep music alive. Because if it's not dead already, it's certainly in a persistent vegetative state, and we might as well just pull the plug and get it over. Really. Why even bother to learn to play an instrument? Why even bother writing new songs? Now all you have to do is just "sing" into a computer, and the computer will create the song for you. You don't even have to be able to carry a tune because I'm sure Microsoft has some download that will make even your godawful screeching sound like Christina Aguilera, Scott Stapp, Whitney Houston, Justin Timberlake, or whatever manufactured pop star you want to sound like. But even if that's too difficult for you, don't worry. I'm sure there's some program that will come out in the next year or so that will turn your bowel movement into a concept album. Move over, Dark Side of the Moon!

It's insanity like this that makes me think that people like Derrick Jensen have it truly figured out. It's time to head for the hills and live in a commune.

Rob

What Is It?

Hello everyone!

Welcome to the first annual What Is It? contest! Let's get right to the first What Is It? Can you figure out What Is It?:

$1000* goes to the first person who can correctly guess.

Rob

*Void where prohibited. Not valid outside or inside the US. Not valid in any US territories or in any of the 50 states with a vowel in its name. If eligible, the winner will be paid in Rai stones on the 30th of this month. Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball.