5 signs your husband is gay

Do I smell an Oscar?

No, that's Antonio Banderas -- he queefed.

i am high as fuck, folding origami and listening to traditional chinese music

Words by Brain - Comic by Ruler

McNuggets

To Whom It May Concern,

Greetings! I've been consuming your fine edibles for the majority of my life. Like most people my age, I was brought up on McDonald's. Your food has become so ingrained in the fabric of American sustenance that oddities and other bizarre facts concerning your products never seem to occur to us. One such oddity struck me the other day.

What the fuck is a chicken McNugget shaped like? I realize there are two, obviously formed, “nugget shapes,” but what are those shapes supposed to be? For instance, if I were to look at a packing slip for the Parts and Maintenance division of one of your magical nugget factories, would the invoice perhaps list a descriptive moniker for replacement nugget stencils? Is there some subtle likeness that your nugget designer was going for? If so, what part of the chicken is shaped like a tiny boot and/or circle? Of all the infinite number of shapes in the universe, why those? At least Burger King had the balls to shape theirs like little crowns (or, “king hats”). Recently, they pussy’d out and have conformed to your simplistic and arbitrary chicken-product-shaping-initiative, but I digress.

I get it- you send whole livestock down a conveyor-belt-o’-death into a vortex of swirling blades until everything that was once alive and breathing and capable of thought is ground into a McNugget for Johnny Fat-ass American- you clearly are not concerned with convincing anyone otherwise. But please explain to me why McDonald’s chose those two particular shapes.



Is there some hidden meaning behind the McNugget shape? If I hold a McNugget against the skyline of San Bernardino at sunset, will it point me in the direction of Grimace's Treasure? Or did you let that fucking clown decide what the shapes should be?

I anxiously await your response. Along with your 58 million daily customers, I demand to know the secret behind the mysterious shaping of your nuggets.

Yours,
Houston Jones

P.S. I was thinking, maybe a good promotional item could be custom-shaped McNuggets. For a premium, businesses, or individuals (ahem, myself), could order these for catered events or even just a simple evening at home, playing board games with friends. If you decide to roll out with something like this, do not feel like you need to afford me any royalties for using this (brilliant) idea. Simply send me a case of your finest dick-and-breast-shaped nuggets.

P.S.S. Why hasn't McDonald's ever attempted to corner the catering market? "Golden Arches Catering" has a nice ring to it!

My God... It's Full of Stars...

Words by Brain - Comic by Ruler

Mandatory Weekend Moose Hunts

We're a mere seventeen months away from the next Presidential election and, already, campaigning is in full swing. We here at OPRE take politics very seriously and, when picking a candidate to back, we weigh all options. After much debate and intergrity-bargaining, we've finally come to some agreement.

For the 2012 Presidential Election, we've decided to endorse SARAH PALIN.

This is the only logical choice. No real change ever occurs in politics and wouldn't unless we, as a planet, abolish all religions and become technocratic. So, aside from that never-gonna-happen fantasy world, this is our next best solution.

Forget peace and change and all that bullshit- we're talking entertainment! Think of it! Who needs hope when there will undoubtedly be an endless supply of hilarious "palinisms." Who cares if other countries like us-- they're full of brown people and don't talk right. Let's show 'em who's alpha dog and put this lipstick-wearing bulldog in the oval office! With everybody's favorite soccer-mom maverick in charge, she'll send other world leaders to bed without supper and make sure everyone's done their homework.

Imagine the inevitable outcomes of whatever apeshit-crazy policies she would no doubt enact: National Bomb an Abortion Clinic Day (the only National holiday celebrated weekly), Mandatory Weekend Moose Hunts, Spritz-a-Gay (in which patriots squirt a fine mist of sticky goo all over suspected homosexuals), Hotdog Eating Contests in Congress and Bible Thump-Offs on the National Mall. etc. etc. etc. She'd give that ol' Ah-Mu-Ding-O'-Jad a whoppin' piece of Alaskan logic and, in the same week, enact a mandatory school cafeteria "All-American Diet" consisting of fried apple pie, fried kool-aid, fried coca-cola, fried batter coated fry batter, and beanie-weenies.

In anticipation, we've prepared a few promotional campaign materials. Nothing says, "I wouldn't mind inciting the next World War" like a Palin 2012 bumper sticker attached to your H3!

Word count: 222

'Cause pure internet gold can be a bitch to mine...

Female. 22 years old. Never been kissed.

The following is a conversation between our former band and one lonely, overzealous sound-guy. The entire correspondence took place over a few hours one afternoon. What follows is a haunting look into the psyche of a twenty-something with too much free time and not enough female interaction. On second thought, make that TWO twenty-somethings with too much free time and not enough female interaction. The old band name has been changed, but is still fucking awesome.

From: TRIPLE X Subject: hey who this.... please

From: The Chewbacalypse Subject: re:hey Neil Diamond.

From: TRIPLE X Subject: re:re:hey k.. how u know me.. are u a male or female

From: The Chewbacalypse Subject: re:re:re:hey Female. 22 years old. Never been kissed.

From: TRIPLE X Subject: re:re:re:re:hey k..... ***-****...text me . lets talk n hangout james..

From: TRIPLE X Subject: re:re:re:re:hey hello...do u want talk n hangout

From: TRIPLE X Subject: re:re:re:re:hey hey .. guess you dont wanne talk n hangout

From: The Chewbacalypse Subject: re:re:re:re:re:hey James, This will, unfortunately, be our last correspondence. My parents, whom I live with, discovered that I had been talking to a boy and have forbade me to talk to you anymore after this, our last, message. Don't be mad at them- my parents are good, honest, hardworking guinea pig breeders with the best intentions. Personally, I think their fears of our romantic involvement will lead to heartbreak. I had a very troubled childhood and was teased profusely as a child for my cleft lip. It was so bad that we had to move and I had to be home schooled. But you, my beautiful angel, don't need to worry about that. James, it breaks my heart to think about the future we will never have together: our story book wedding at my parents guinea pig farm, our children Hank, Merlin, Edward Cullen and little Anastasia- it saddens me tremendously. Love, Nell Diamond Female. 22 years old. Never been kissed.

From: TRIPLE X Subject: re:re:re:re:re:re:hey call me lets talk n be friends please..im a really good guy.. ***-**** ..i was at toucans helping this band when they played there last week....so please text or call me k.james

From: TRIPLE X Subject: re:re:re:re:re:re:hey wuzz up ??? can we talk n hangout please...im 25 i work at toucans.. yesterday.hard rack.. so ***-***-**** james

From: TRIPLE X Subject: re:re:re:re:re:re:hey hey..wuzz up

From: The Chewbacalypse Subject: re:re:re:re:re:re:...hey Not much, sir. <3 T.N.D.E.

From: TRIPLE X Subject: re:re:re:re:re:re:...hey text me.***-**** gurl

From: The Chewbacalypse Subject: re:re:re:re:re:re:...hey Gurl?

From: The Chewbacalypse Subject: re:re:re:re:re:re:...hey There aren't any girls in this band. T.N.D.E.

From: TRIPLE X Subject: re:re:re:re:re:re:...hey k.,, so neil diamond that been messagin me?????

From: The Chewbacalypse Subject: hey I'm not sure know what you're talking about? This is The Near Death Experiment

From: TRIPLE X Subject: re:re:re:re:re:re:...hey someone name. neil diamond been talken to me on this page allday???????????

From: The Chewbacalypse Subject: re:re:re:re:re:re:...hey Oh sorry, we get a lot of SPAM on our bands account and most of the time just write a bunch of nonsense back at those accounts. We get like 3 garbage messages per day. Sorry we confused you with one. What's up, man?

From: TRIPLE X Subject: re:re:re:re:hey hey tell me who wrote that????? or ur band will not play friday at toucans.bc i can call david or chris to cancell yall

From: TRIPLE X Subject: re:re:re:re:hey nm...i was gettin pissed off ?...... so ingore that last message pleasek

/masterpiece

Father's Day Pt. III

With Father's Day a mere week away, we're continuing the celebration early with a couple of true but unfortunate stories.

---

Years after the previous stories, during a somewhat messy sexual encounter with an ex, I left my room to grab a hand towel from the bathroom which was right across the hall. Given the proximity- and the fact that I believed the house to be empty, save for me and my quarry- I did not bother to put on any clothes before venturing out into the hallway.

Upon exiting the bathroom, towel in hand, I run into my father who had, unbeknownst to me, just exited his bedroom. We both came to a dead stop in the middle of the hall. I was completely naked, with only a black condom cloaking a still-throbbing erection. Our eyes locked and it seemed that we had come to a silent agreement: there would be no discussion or mention of this, we would just both go our merry ways. Then, without warning, he broke the unspoken agreement and looked down. It was swift, a millisecond at most, but the damage had been done, and my night had been ruined.

fatties welcome

Words by Brain - Comic by Ruler

Facebook Friday #3: With fluorescent yellow shirts and poverty for all...

For this edition of Facebook Friday, I decided to change things up a bit and feature a conversation, in which (much to my eternal shame) I recently allowed myself to take part. The names of the "winners" this week have been hidden, not so much to protect their identities, but mostly to aid in mocking them. Their profile pictures have also been altered accordingly. All spelling and grammatical errors have been left intact. My refutation of the headline below is what sparked the controversy and riled up these ill-informed, moronic Southern Baptists:

Redefining Government Leech

In keeping with a rich history of oppression and prejudice that could only come from a majority of the population being in their "golden years", Florida has decided throw decency to the wind and start a campaign to outright discriminate against the poor and destitute. It seems that the penalty for committing the crime of "not having an affluent heritage" will now be dehumanization and the expectation that you will gleefully forfeit any and all constitutional rights deemed necessary by Grand Moff Rick Scott. Many people have chimed in, but none so loudly, and with their fingers shoved so deeply into their ears, as those shot by the arrow of ignorance from an inbred version of Cupid-- a skinny, balding, meth-addled cherub in a wife-beater whose two remaining teeth stand in defiance of the drunken fist-fights he routinely gets in with his Sisterwife*. I would like to point out that I am not friends with any of the miscreants featured herein; they are, in fact, acquaintances of a relative (Materfamilias).

I began, as always, with a little research on the topic. Like, what studies had been done on how effective this solution would be, its financial impact and just how many people on welfare actually use drugs. The consensus seems to be, as I had suspected, that this measure would not help to achieve the desired end. A meager 3-10% of people on welfare are drug abusers. It is fiscally irresponsible, and the Center for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH) even offered a study that the stigma impacted those on welfare negatively. So I posted some of these facts in response to the original pro-drug-testing post. Not so much to incite rage or opposition, but to educate and inform. This method of thwarting drug addicts is demonstrably impractical and ineffective. It's like when someone you know is propagating a chain letter and you politely refer them to the Snopes.com article debunking whatever bullshit it happens to be putting forth. It started out with the most innocent of intentions, but I was quickly drawn into a maddening bizarro-world where up is down, left is right, there's a black president and Arnold Schwarzenegger got busy with the help.

First and foremost, it's an egregious violation of constitutional rights. The fourth amendment guards against unreasonable searches and seizures. If you have no history of drug abuse, and no criminal record, then the seizure and subsequent searching of your bodily fluids is unreasonable and thus a violation of your rights. Case closed, right? Let's see what the peanut gallery has to say...

Do you really want to compare being on welfare to holding a steady job? Isn't part of the problem that some of these people are freeloading instead of getting a job? Their argument is as riddled with fallacies as it is grammatical errors! If the argument is that welfare is essentially just like any other job, and so these people should have to piss test, then you shouldn't complain when they don't go out looking for some other form of gainful employment. According to the Pro-pissers (I'll be trademarking this term shortly), you can make a career out of welfare!

The notion that just because you are without means and require financial assistance you should gleefully accept a violation of your constitutional rights is offensive and loathsome. Moreover, if unreasonable search and seizure doesn't apply to guarding completely innocent civilians, with no criminal record, then where exactly is that line drawn? I'm curious just what exactly these idiots think that amendment is there for. Certainly, the men who drafted the constitution couldn't have foreseen urine testing, blood testing or any other procedures of that nature, but I'm certain that, in addition to being completely baffled and weirded out, they would agree that the government doesn't have the right to take YOUR PISS AND BLOOD- even if you are offered remuneration. And then there's this dipshit...

Talk about a toddler wanting to talk astrophysics. He chimes in without even having read anything that came above. It's fantastic how he ignored that his first post was based on an entirely false premise. And no one said anything about people waiting in the shadows to steal your pee. This is happening right out in the open. We're talking about lines of innocent people being treated like criminals in broad daylight. Nice attempt at a straw man, imbecile!

How is forcing any and all who would file for welfare only discriminating those who use drugs? That would be the case if we only tested the drug users, but unless this assclown has invented a dowsing rod that can point them out, then you're going to have to just discriminate against an entire class of people to weed out the bad ones. What I can't wrap my mind around is how he concluded that drugs are expensive. The drugs they buy are cheap, and that's the fucking point. By the end, he's contrived a new false premise upon which to base his argument. Newflash cocksucker: your constitutional rights do not include limiting the rights of others.

Drug testing welfare applicants is not going to keep drug users from getting that money. Do you have any idea how easy it is to cheat a drug test? Most fast food restaurants rely on this fact as a means to keep staffed! This will be a minor inconvenience to these people at most. However, the stain left on the integrity of those who are innocent is unacceptable. What happened to innocent until proven guilty? When did it become "poor people are all dope fiends until they piss in a cup and I forget they exist"?

Some would argue that the drug addicts are stealing away welfare funds that could otherwise be given to people who are being denied. This idea simply doesn't hold water. People are being denied welfare because the poverty line is having to be drawn so low that even some families who would otherwise qualify are having to be turned down. When I re-enroll in school, as I plan to do soon, my meager financial aid will count as my income and thus disqualify me from any kind of welfare. Perhaps it's not my preferred outcome, but it definitely is not because the money that would otherwise go to me is being given to people who are spending it on drugs. Even if these people are denied welfare, I wouldn't magically qualify for it all of a sudden. It has nothing to do with the level of available funds and everything to do with where the poverty line is drawn.

Can you guess which one
has unjustified prejudices?

Another little pill of truth that might be tough to swallow is that most of this is really just thinly veiled racism. When that asshole up there (played by Don Knotts) sits back and stews about how his tax dollars are being misappropriated, he isn't seeing a skinny white dude with piecemeal facial hair, and a harelip, snorting meth; he's envisioning a black guy with illegitimate children smoking a joint. If this is really the road he wants to go down, then here is what I propose: anyone who stands to gain anything that is subsidized with federal or state tax money has to take a mandatory piss test. But not just for controlled substances, for alcohol too. I sure as hell don't want my tax dollars going to help some white collar alcoholic feed his addiction. If you have children that attend public school, drive on a public road or have benefited from services rendered by our nation's military, then you must take a monthly piss test to prove you meet my uppity, impossible criteria. Why? Because it's my constitutional right to demand anything I want of anyone else at any given time on a goddamn whim. Waaaah, boo-hoo, poor little me, I think I'm special for paying taxes, black people smell funny and scare me. Fuck you, and the racist horse you rode in on (pictured above).

I just had an even better idea. Let's make a law requiring the poor to wear a fluorescent yellow shirt at all times. This would make it much easier for law enforcement officials and government employees to identify which are "half-people"- those whose rights and feelings it will henceforth be okay to disregard. Also, their votes only count as half. Likewise, rich people will receive shirts made of gold from the government. Votes count double. Yes, this sounds like a vast improvement. As a white person, I know I will rest more peacefully at night knowing that this, along with piss testing, will absolutely prevent any drug user from ever collecting welfare again. At the end of the day, that's really what it's all about, right? Making white people feel better?

I know that I've inevitably repeated myself, but such is the pitfall of arguing with ham-fisted apes. I shouldn't care so much, but I do; I genuinely do. It's a tragedy that there are people out there with so little while, on the opposite end of the spectrum, there are people with so much they could spend frivolously the rest of their lives and never see the end of it. To some, it is embarrassing and depressing to be reliant on government subsidy just to get by. While I wouldn't derive any such shame, I can certainly empathize with those who feel it as a blow to the pride. It's such a disrespectful slap in the face to these people, who are having a hard enough time as it is, to indirectly accuse them of being drug addicts. If you want to talk about big issues and play adult, then do your goddamn research. And if you can't take the time to inform yourself and create an opinion with some basis in fact, then just keep your fucking mouth shut.

---

* I was born and raised in the south, so I'll talk as much shit as I please, thank you kindly.

Late

Father's Day Pt II

With Father's Day a mere 2 weeks away, we're continuing our celebration early with a couple of true but unfortunate stories.

---

Several months after last Monday's story, my father's woes about my sexuality were promptly laid to rest. My girlfriend, at the time, had stayed the night and we slept naked in my bed. At this point, my bed was nothing but a mattress laid directly on the floor. Shirts, pants, underwear and a bra were scattered all over the floor of my room. Something primal had gone down, this much was certain. I awoke to a knocking on my head- as if it was a fucking door. I mumbled a couple swears as I woke and looked up to see the disapproving and angry face of my grandmother. She began to scold me in a frightening whisper, "you're in so much god damn trouble, you little son-of-a-bitch." I was informed that we were to be awake and dressed within the hour. While my father was aware that she had been spending the night, it did not become a problem until my grandparents caught wind of it. They talked with him about this "problem" and he subsequently had the following talk with me.

poon

We ended up working out a system where he decided it would be permissible to have her spend the night as long as she was "attending a sleepover" with my sister. This was acceptable to both parties.

Words by Brain - Comic by Ruler

Why don't you guys have anything to post today?

Designed by Senior Citizens

A veritable Rubik's cube

When did Walgreen's become a geriatric outlet mall? It's one of the strangest business plans put forward since McDonald's decided to subjugate blacks with their urban marketing initiative. It's also impossibly cruel to market your store as a haven for senior citizens, and then stock the shelves full of items your company would presume they have no hope of figuring out how to use. Including but not limited to: digital cameras, DVD players, medicines with child-proof lids, Crocs. Walgreen's might be the company doing this most explicitly, but they are not alone in their initiative to make the elderly weak(er) by robbing their intellectual bones of a much needed proverbial calcium. No, other businesses have joined in on this trend, and even worse, they are now encouraging the elderly to just give up and embrace their ignorance. Mocking and insulting the elderly to their faces has become as American a past-time as baseball or Ponzi schemes, but do we really want to encourage this shit? From computers to cell phones, it seems that now a days the senior citizen is lost in a sea of technological hopelessness, on a raft made of motherboards and CD players. I think iPad commercials should just be a series of old people throwing up their hands and shrugging, "I don't know". Oh me, oh my! What's a grandmother to do? All these recipes and no place to store them electronically. Until now...

Most seniors can barely see over the keyboard of a normal computer.

Introducing, The MyGait PC. It's the out of control vehicle, careening onto a sidewalk full of pedestrians, of personal computing. Complete with an infantile operating system and letters so large they almost bleed over the keys of the keyboard, this is the ultimate in luxury coddling. Let me tell you, there is nothing that empowers a septuagenarian more than being told they are too stupid to learn to send an e-mail the way "the young whippersnappers do". This ain't shooting down Japs in the Pacific, Grandpa. No, this is spreadsheets and search engines. MyGait PC to the rescue! My, in this instance, meaning belonging to a senior; Gait, meaning this thing cruises along the hallowed corridors of the internet the same way you hobble down the halls of the elder shelter (the nickname those hip, young 60 year olds are using for the Convalescent home). If only you could toss a couple tennis balls on the legs of this bastard, then you'd be cruising along- although probably still under the speed limit and possibly asleep at the wheel. The important thing here is that the creators of this product understand your needs as a feeble, old creature because they too are feeble and old. Wait, what?!

When the implications of your product are that seniors are incapable of learning how to use a computer, but then you slap a label on your product that says, "designed by senior citizens", just what the fuck kind of Alice-in-Wonderland, topsy-turvy bullshit are you trying to sell here? Even worse, maybe the implication isn't that they are incapable of learning, but just shouldn't be bothered. What pressing engagements are keeping the elderly from making time to learn a new craft? Especially one that the entirety our civilization is so inescapably moving toward at breakneck speeds (known to seniors as: the speed limit). Don't get me wrong, old people can be fucking stupid, but most of the time it has less to do with cognitive abilities and more to do with a lack of patience. Learning something new can be fun if you don't get thrown into it by a company whose sole purpose in being is to convince you that it's beyond your comprehension and so you need their service. That just creates frustration and a weak(er) bladder.

The Walgreen's Agenda

For practicality's sake, I understand adding certain types of functionality. I wouldn't begrudge a blind man his braille, just as I think that large type on a keyboard, or a nice, intuitive zoom function for an operating system are great accommodations for those with physical debilities. But these "work-right-out-of-the-box" features insinuate that they aren't even capable of matching colors and shapes- basically all the skill-set required to plug in a computer. Some computers use up to 10 wires! Are you crazy?! Don't leave him alone in there, Grandpa's gonna accidentally hang himself trying to put that shit together!

Maybe I'm looking at this all wrong, but it just seems kind of rude to tell the generation that fought the second world war that they don't have what it takes to master the intricacies of Google's "I'm feeling lucky" button. And maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't be so goddamn ignorant when it came to technology if we stopped selling them products that told them they were.

Father's Day

With Father's Day a mere 3 weeks away, we're starting the celebration early with a couple of true but unfortunate stories.

---

During my formidable years, my father was the proprietor of several "college" bars (and even, at one point, a strip club*). While this offered my teenage counterpart a smattering of experiences that would otherwise have been held off until college, it was also the cause for many an unfavorable side-effect. For instance: many nights, my father would bring home a friend or employee, whose drinking had rendered non-existent his ability to walk or drive. Upon returning home- usually around 4 or 5 in the morning- he would come into my room, steal the comforter off of me and give it to the vagabond on our sofa. The couch in our living room saw many a drunken buffoon over the years. I quickly grew tired of this bullshit and concocted a plan, with my best friend at the time, to ensure this behavior was discontinued.

So one unassuming Saturday night, my father came home and, true to form, stole away my comforter. After snatching it off the bed, he found the two of us- my friend and me- arms wrapped around each other, even a leg, pretending to sleep. It no doubt took his brain longer than usual to process exactly what he was staring at. Slack-jawed and in total disbelief, he backed up slowly, dropped the blanket and let out an "ugh". It was the last night he came to take my comforter.

While we never discussed this event explicitly, it set a precedent for awkward conversations which began with a talk about my sexual preference. The comic below is a recreation featuring penguin stand-ins and a filter to make sense of his garbled wisdom-gems (brown-boxed).

bewbz rawk

---

*It was in this very strip club that I found out who shot Mr. Burns (Spoiler: it was Maggie Simpson).

Words by Brain - Comic by Ruler

So it begins... Again... (Facebook Friday #2)

Our good friend, Houston Jones, is one tenacious motherfucker. He is a shrewd businessman, a playboy, an aviator, a martial arts expert, a culinary master and, above all else, a fucking asshole. When the voices in his head convince him that a certain business venture is beckoning, it'll be a cold day in hell before he shows even a teaspoon of mercy to his competitors. Case in point: this week's facebook friday -- featuring Houston Jones Yoga's Ruthless Smear Campaign against James Brown Yoga:

---

Poppa's got a brand new downward facing dog:

Flyer #1: Pinocchio's Lament

---

Sun Salutation Machine

FLYER #2: Tiny Chair, Giant Yogi

---

Never underestimate Houston Jones' cunning nor the lengths he will go to see a plan through; especially when it involves the ruin of his competitors. Perhaps his most scathing ad yet, will these seeds he has planted someday bear fruit? Only time will tell- time and Houston Jones' own personal God.

Flyer #3: The Coup de Grâce

I am a proud American, Goddammit!

When I heard of the news of Osama Bin Laden's death, my first thought was, "what a tragedy." Not that he was dead, I am, much like the rest of the world, a bit relieved that he is no longer alive and thus no longer able to end lives. Rather, I mean it is tragic that a human being, who has been blessed with all the wonderful faculties and apparatuses that come with owning a large brain, had his mind so violently twisted and warped by politics and religion. Letting religion (or any absolutist ideology) do your thinking for you is like buying a new computer, with top of the line hardware, then instead of installing an operating system, just smearing peanut butter on the graphics card (and then citing faith when a tech geek tells you the world won't conform to your perception of what it should be).

Perhaps I was a bit naive, but it was unsettling, and a bit startling, to find so many people celebrating the murder of another human being. Death is something only a psychopath celebrates. We don't mourn the man and his actions, but we mourn the waste of that life. The thing that makes Hitler Hitler, Bin Laden Bin Laden, etc... is a lack of acknowledgement and respect for the value of life. When we, as a species, forget this-- and boy have we ever-- we become no better than the enemies we deride. What began on 9/11 and culminated in his death was tragic and, while I agree completely that it was a necessary evil, the important thing to remember-- if we are to avoid the ignoble pitfall of becoming the thing we despise-- is that it is indeed an evil.

Recognizing this, and showing compassion in the face of tragedy, is what separates the just from the unjust; no level of flag-waving, no misguided vendetta. Honorable, ethical men kill out of necessity, never with joy or pride. Speaking of pride...

Nationalism sucks. When I see a group of semi-educated suburbanites marching en masse and chanting "USA!", I can't help but think, "this has to be how Nazism started." I'm not comparing any of these people to Nazis, I'm just saying that you don't get from point A to point Nazi without a little bit of mindless-chant-marching in between.

Being proud to be American is like being proud to have male pattern baldness or that gravity exists. You can't be proud that it didn't rain today or that birds can fly. Basically, you can't be proud of something you had absolutely no control over. Your birthplace (and subsequently your world-view, religion, etc...) required absolutely no decision or effort on your part; you were born into it all. If you were born to Eskimos, you'd be a proud Inuit-- with all the assumptions and creeds that come with being an Inuit. One might argue, "Sure, I can't control the fact that I was born here, but I did choose to stay once I grew up." Okay, I'll concede that, but it's a bit disingenuous to refer to it as a proper decision. Since day one, we have all had America's greatness crammed down our throats. I'm not arguing the veracity of that claim, I'm merely pointing out the inconsistency in repeating rhetoric, ad infinitum, and calling it choice. You can be happy you're American. You can feel blessed, lucky or relieved, but you can't feel proud.

Most of the people I know who identify themselves as Christians, sure as fuck don't behave that way. If being Christian means behaving as Christ did, once you cut out all the bullshit, I am one of the only Christians I know. Likewise, if you transpose the bible to the constitution, and it's forgers to Christ, then goddammit, I am an American! And proud of it. I think the constitution is one of the best documents that exists for the creation and maintenance of a functioning, peaceful society. It's not perfect; progress inevitably entails change, but it is a good blueprint and the further we stray the ideas that fed it, the worse off we are. I am proud of the times I've dissented against this government run-amuck. I am proud of my choice to stay in this country and enact change. In these cases, I am proud to be American, but this is not what the majority of people are proud of when they post it on facebook or buy a patriotic bumper sticker. They mean they are proud to unquestioningly surrender their minds to an idea, whether knowingly or not. Same goes for the religious.

In the last century or so, we've come a long way, but because of the emphasis put on antiquity and tradition, we are breeding generations that are more and more inclined to fight tooth and nail to keep things the way they are. We shouldn't force people to change, we should teach them to; show them why it's not only okay, but preferred. Society as a whole is becoming disconnected from all the underlying things that make it possible. For instance: technology, science- both political and natural, philosophy, a universal and natural origin for ethics. When you are being taught what to think, but not how, just what do you use to determine the accuracy of a proposition? What makes it any different or more credible than its rival?

Some people look around and see a world that is changing, in a manner that they think will make it better. When I look around, all I can see is other people ruining everything.

The "post-rapture post... rapture post rapture post rapture" post

Lo and behold, we are only two days into the apocalypse and already things have taken a turn toward mediocrity. Congrats to Jon Heder for being the sole winner of this, our most recent rapture. We're sure someone out there is going to miss you.

"Rapture Winner"

Facebook Friday #1!

Every Friday, we're going to celebrate Facebook Privacy Settings! On Facebook Fridays, unsuspecting volunteers will be selected at random to receive a friend request from themselves. The bizarre-o account will display the Facebook’ers name and contain a selection of their photos that have been subtly edited. Any received responses will be posted.

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Our victim... err volunteer this week is one, Michael Chiklis. You may know him from his starring role in such productions as television's The Shield, the film Fantastic Four or as Tony Scali from The Commish. Coincidentally, this is his two month anniversary of creating a Facebook account (to the day). Welcome to the internet, Mr. Chiklis.

the classic face swap

the subtle relief

juggalization

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Developments:

Who is this guy?

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Mother of the Winner

Our bid for the next WeCanKnow ad campaign

To Whom It May Concern,

I am messaging you on behalf of our company, OPRE Designs (an acronym for "Other People Ruin Everything"- as fellow Christians, you can probably relate to the sentiment). We are a Christian-based design firm specializing in all things holy! We have done work for a number of deserving churches and were board members of a committee to pray for the advertising campaign behind the Left Behind Series. The ad campaign for your website, www.wecanknow.com, caught our attention, but not for the reasons you might have hoped.

The advertisements we saw were, at best, "back-row Baptist" quality- the kind of ad that shows up for Christmas and Easter to keep up the appearances with family, but hammers like a Roman the other 363 days of the year. Is this the message you want to be sending in such important times? We didn't think so. How can you expect to convert non-believers when their sinful eyes are distracted by lazy typography and unnecessary drop shadows?

We understand how busy you are, orchestrating the apocalypse and inciting panic in the hearts of the simple minded. You shouldn't be bothered by advertisers and dealing with such worldly nonsenses. Let us do that for you!

We can't help but believe that Mr. Camping's predicted date of May 21, 2011 (and his other previously set raptures) have not been taken seriously by the masses, nor by the Lord, because of sloppily prepared ad campaigns. When the good Mr. Camping, bless him, schedules his next rapture, let us do the advertising for you!

Billboards are just the beginning! Imagine an ad campaign so deafening Metatrons would cover their ears! Together, we could make a campaign not even God himself could ignore (like those devilishly catchy iPod commercials).

We anxiously await your response. Perhaps we can set a phone conference for next Monday, the 23rd.

Your Brothers in Christ,
Joseph Carpenter and Jordan Fisher

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Keep your fingers crossed for us, fellow believers :)

Spurback Mountain

Professional Hobgoblin

I can’t even begin to imagine being molested as a child, let alone, accosted in a fucking zoo bathroom by something with that face (pictured left). Just innocently trying to relieve my bladder when all of a sudden the Touchy Monster comes strolling in behind me. As a child, this presents you with that great internal struggle that is “don’t look, maybe its vision is based on movement” versus “how can I possibly peel my eyes away from this perversion of nature?” As an adult, I’d see him, shudder a bit and think, “terrifying, but at least it doesn’t molest kids.” I’d wager that his penis is as malformed, and startling, as his face (complete with some sort of premature irrigation tube). Speaking of which…

Back when I worked at Blockbuster, this thirteen year old girl used to come in around noon on Tuesdays. I’m guessing that she was home-schooled because normally children aren’t allowed to leave school, walk to a video store and “see what’s new”. Over time, however, she slowly started turning “goth” which would lead one to believe she had to have some sort of public-school-peer-influence going on. But I digress.

This little girl didn’t come in alone. She brought with her a young boy, who couldn’t have been any older than 10. This would only be mildly strange, except for the fact that the boy had a tracheae tube and wore glasses that I’m pretty positive were fashioned out of the same shit as the Pope-mobile’s glass dome. So they’d come in, and it never failed, after a couple of minutes spent browsing the new releases, she’d send him over to ask me a question. Only problem was, because of that tube, the boy couldn’t speak so much as he could do the most amazing Donald Duck impression you’ve ever heard (okay, maybe it was more like one of Scrooge’s nephews; let’s just call him Huey). Huey’s speech impediment made it absolutely impossible to understand a single word burped out of his tiny neck. And this would piss him off, no end. The little fucker even threw a bag of candy at me once. It was extremely hard not to bust out laughing when he’d start pacing around and (I use the term loosely) screaming at the top of his insufficient lungs about whatever the fuck it was he wanted to know.

The other thing that was very odd about this: there was a note on the mother’s account saying that she had come in and given her permission to rent out anything to them; basically, to keep her from having to walk her (presumably fat) ass down to the store. So there were times when I was renting films to this motley pair of children that included some pretty crazy, hard “R” stuff. I don’t think a socially reclusive young girl and a boy with a hole in his throat need to be watching “The 40 Year Old Virgin” or “Mystic River”.

Boo! Take off your pants.

I’m sure that having to grow up with a tracheostomy presents its own unique level of adversity that I can’t even begin to commiserate with, but I do know for a fact, that being a little dick isn’t going to help anyone to accept or like you. And the hardest thing in the world to understand is the English language, spoken through the filter of an angry, baby goose.

Which brings me back to the first paragraph. Imagine yourself as a child of 8 or 9, excited about seeing an elephant poop or giraffes screwing for the first time– IN REAL LIFE! And then having that creepy, Zach Braff fish creature walk into the bathroom and start quacking and touching your dick. Then, as the cherry on top of this awful shit-sundae, he starts jacking off! I’d never be able to get that image out of my head. I could be 40 years old, and every time a girl put my cock in her mouth, all I’d be able to see is that face. Or worse yet, maybe I wouldn’t be able to get off unless my partner honked when she came. Hell, I don’t know that I’d even be able to piss again without having some kind of nervous breakdown– always with an eye on the door, waiting for that monster to come barging in with those sad, sad eyes, trained intently on my penis.

That poor fucking kid.