Nailed It, Or Got Nailed? A Humbling Porn Experience

I thought I really nailed it with Farmer Porn. As it turns out, Farmer Porn nailed me.

Far and away the most popular post I've written for this blog is The Best of Farmer Porn. It has twice as many views as the next highest post and it is often searched for by name. Naturally, I assumed that this is because I stumbled on to something powerful that resonates with a large and diverse group of people; an expression of comedy that tapped into the collective funny bone of the world and said: "goochy goochy goo."

I studied this post to try and decipher what made it so appealing. I thought that if I figured out exactly what it was that  made this post so special I could do it again and again. All I want is to make you laugh, and I felt the key to your chuckle lock was somewhere in that post. Was it the simple and clear structure of a list? The Twitter roll-out? The funny pic? The farmer? The porn?

It was the porn.

I entered "farmer porn" into my search engine and guess what popped up? Sure, my post was there, but it was nearly buried under a mound of filthy farmer porn. REAL farmer porn. That's right, farmer porn is a real thing that real people are into. It's a niche porn sub-genre for people who just can't get off without getting a farmer involved. Weird? I guess I'm not really in a position to judge.

I estimate that three-fourths of the people directed to my post through searching for the phrase "farmer porn" arrived with a bottle of hand lotion, an old sock, and a look of confused disappointment on their face. Imagine having your choke rope all ready to go and a whole 45 minutes before the kids get home from school; you avidly hunt for the premium farmer porn that will take your masturbation to the next level; you click new, fresh links and you're filled with a rush of excitement at the prospect of discovering new and untapped porn mines; and just when you think you found the best of what the net has to offer, you end up on some confusing and pretentious blog about who-gives-a-crap. I hate to be a disappointment in any circumstance, but in this case I really feel like I led you on. I'm sorry.

So, I'm not quite as funny or catchy as I thought I was. I didn't stumble on to some formula for success or comedy goldmine. Truly, a humbling experience. What I did stumble onto was an obscure, niche specialty porn that, by its existence, eclipses anything funny I had to say about the subject. I made up what I thought was a ridiculous idea, but reality beat me to the punch. What this proves again is that fiction simply cannot compete with reality when it comes to the absurd. 

Perhaps the take-away experience from this is that if you want to grab people's attention you need to write about what they truly care about: porn.

Hopefully this will help get you to where you need to go:

I LOVE TEXAS! - The Ultimate Travel Guide to Texas!

Texans are a hearty folk, not welcoming of the seemingly frivolous lifestyle and “fandangles” of this century. The indomitable Texas spirit can be found within the frontiersmen, wranglers, trappers, leaders of the pack, and every other anachronisms from America’s Manifest Destiny. Texans may never surrender and never say die, but when they do it is usually during cardiac arrest at a startling young age. Texas is home to shockingly high rates of obesity, teen pregnancy, and death from violent crimes and accidents; as a result, life expectancy and childhood mortality rates in Texas rival Europe during the peak of the Black Death. With such a clear disdain for their own lives and the lives of their fellow Texans, it is not surprising that Texas has the highest proportion of uninsured in the United States (for those of you who do not live in the US, health insurance is something that the richest nation in the world makes its citizens pay to have a happy, healthy life because it spent the budget on Smart Bombs and Halliburton kick-backs).  Deep in the heart of Texas you will find that the stars at night are big and bright, but you will also find a healthy dose of cholesterol and carcinogens. So, strap on your cowboy boots, deep fry a stick of butter, and unlearn math because we’re going to Texas! Yee-haw!

Owing almost entirely to its suspicion of medicine, elitist doctors, and basic hygiene, Texas is a veritable museum for deadly diseases extinct in the industrialized world. It’s as if the CDC dropped the biosafety level 4 freezer in Texas just to “see what would happen.” The bubonic plague, rickets, smallpox, scrofula, polio, dysentery, typhoid, and many more ailments typically found along the Oregon Trail (if you don’t get that joke, ask your mom) are common in Texas. Not content to have only what everyone else has, or had centuries ago, Texas wouldn’t be Texas if it didn’t do everything bigger and better than all of history. In addition to known deadly diseases, Texas invented a number of new ones, which includes: the “Texas frenzy,” the “Texas froth,” the “Texas sweat,” the “bloody tuffet,” and “evils.” 

It should be no surprise then that the death rate for Texas infants is nearly 2 out of 3; however, the alarming ratio is counteracted by the fact that Texas doesn’t allow any form birth control other than obesity. Abortions are not permitted in Texas since “life” is considered to start at arousal and any sexual arousal that is not consummated in unprotected sex is tantamount to murder. As a result, 90% of women have their first child before their 20^th birthday—the remaining 10% is divided evenly between witches and nuns. 

Even more apprehensive about having someone's hands in their mouth than they are about modern medicine, Texans view dentistry as a form of witchcraft and those caught practicing it are sentenced to drowning.  Minor dental procedures, such as tooth removals, are typically handled by shepherds, but any person engaged in animal husbandry could perform the duties.

All Texans enjoy a healthy portion of sugar, so much so that it is not uncommon for teeth to turn black and rot out. While in the rest of the world this would be seen as sign of addiction to crystal meth, in Texas it is a sign of prestige. Any Texan with a black and rotting maw of stinky tooth nubs is sure to have eaten his weight in sugar over the past week—which is a costly habit. The lower classes, unable to afford the requisite amount of sugar for ruining one’s mouth, will sometimes black out and/or knockout their teeth to give the appearance that they enjoy copious amounts of the sweet granules. Those Texans with a full mouth of pearly white teeth are looked at with disdain and treated with the typical derision reserved for any sub-class of people.

Unfortunately, Texas is unable to improve its situation because there is no centralized government and the state is divided up into little autonomous kingdoms lorded over by  local cattle or oil barons. In this baronic system, common Texan folk are bound to a plot of land owned by a baron in return for protection and the right to work on the fields. Also, unless God appears and speaks directly to the whole state, threatening floods and locusts, shit just doesn't get done in Texas. 

So, that’s Texas—a caustic blend of cow pies and oil wells all wrapped in smoked bacon. We may never understand what makes Texas such a desperately backwards hovel of a state, and we never have to because there are plenty of roads that will take us around it. What we should hope for is that they finally build a solid wall along the border of Texas and Mexico, but enjoy the idea so much that they just keep building until the wall goes all the way around the whole state. Sure, walls keep things out, but they also keep things in. Fingers crossed. Just like with any infection, if you can’t get rid of it, quarantine the shit out it.

In Texas, cowboy hats are an erogenous zone.

FUN FACTS about Texas:

• Capitol: Waco

• Language: Country Strong

• First governor: David Koresh

• Main export: Beef

• Main import: Beef

• Favorite condiment: Ranch

• Favorite vegetable: Ribs

• State bird: Longhorn cattle

• State animal: Walker, Texas Ranger

• Best selling vehicle: Covered wagon with four oxen

• Favorite lute music: Ricercare by Francesco da Milano (1497)

• Fine for non-Christians: $11 per day

• Fine for not wearing a cowboy hat: $18 (men) $5 (women).

• Fine for messing with Texas: Trust me, just don't mess with Texas...

SERIOUSLY, DO NOT MESS WITH TEXAS!

FREE Desktop Wallpapers

I was planning on updating my resume, but somehow I got hopelessly distracted by pretty colors. I made myself a desktop wallpaper and, in the spirit of the internet, I pass it on to you. If you want a different resolution, let me know and I'll upload it for you.


To download the wallpaper, just click on an image below to view the full-size image and then right-click and select "Save Image As" (or something similar depending on your browser).

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CONTAGION - The Filthiest Movie Review Ever

Contagion, my God! I’m covered in filth! Tiny disgusting germs all over my body! Crawling around my mouth, my hands, my mind. So unclean.  Everything I touch—filth! Must. Quarantine. EVERYTHING. 

The only thing you need to know about Contagion, is that Contagion is REAL . . . or at least could be real. Contagion is unique in that it was not created by traditional means, that is, with a film crew and cameras. In fact, Contagion was not filmed at all. Contagion is actually a detailed simulation created by a robot, named Real-time Indicator of Contagion Outbreak, or RICO, which was built by the US government.  The government built RICO to simulate the spread of serious diseases associated with Gwenyth Paltrow in the hopes of managing and controlling the devastation of an inevitable outbreak. After living through the biological terror unleashed by Patrick Dempsey (AKA McDreamy) in 1995’s Outbreak, the US government began a secret plan of devising simulations around the Hollywood stars most likely to unleash the next deadly plague. Luckily, Gwenyth Paltrow showed up at the top of that list. 

RICO does more 
than simulate...

RICO simulated the spread of Gwenyth Paltrow’s destructive biological agent through complex calculations and algorithms that were cross referenced with the vector and R-0 factors in a double blind taste test. The initial results concluded that Pepsi was the clear taste winner, but further refinement provided a much more meaningful result in the form of a feature length movie, Contagion. Essentially, Contagion is RICO’s final report revealing the world’s fate once Paltrow goes “patient 0.”

Many critics have questioned why RICO reported the final results of its simulation in the form of a feature length movie, but the answer to this stupid question is obvious: nobody reads reports. It is estimated that, had RICO produced a traditional report with words on paper—boring—the report would have topped 3,000 pages.  A report that long would take a special kind of loser to read, the kind of loser who lives his or her life in completely marginalized obscurity. We’re talking about the kind of loser who; when they talk to you, you tune out; when they call you, you screen it; and when they email you, you report it as a phishing scam. Nobody would pay attention to a super loser, but people would definitely pay attention to an all-star cast that includes Academy Awards winners Gwenyth Paltrow, Matt Damon, and Kate Winslet, Academy Awards nominee and Emmy winner Lawrence Fishburne, and Dimitri Martin. Matt Damon, ‘nuff said. 

Bart Rickleton, 
Government Man

Similarly, many have criticized the US government’s release of the feature length simulation as “alarmist” and “needless doomsaying.” The US government responded in a press release saying the simulation is a critical warning to the public concerning the inevitable outbreak. Bart Rickleton, Important Government Man from the US Department of Homeland Security, said: “the more we can spread awareness and get the word out, the more prepared we will be. Perhaps the greatest enemy we face is panic. So, through this movie we hope that instead of asking ‘when will Gwenyth Paltrow unleash a devastating virus that will bring humanity to the brink’ people will ask, ‘am I prepared for when Gwenyth Paltrow unleashes a devastating virus that will bring humanity to the brink.’” He added: “we hope, for most people, the answer will be ‘yes, I’m ready.’”

The simulation's final recommendation for surviving the oncoming hellscape is to find Matt Damon and drink his blood to absorb his power. It’s the only way to be sure.

So, ladies and gentlemen, Contagion is not merely a movie concocted by a government robot named RICO to showcase the emerging acting talents of Dimitri Martin, it is a record of our inescapable future—it is our collective Ghost of Christmas Future. Now we are all faced with a choice: will we heed this dire warning and shore ourselves against the oncoming devastation or turn a deaf ear and welcome Gwenyth Paltrow’s destruction. Me? If you need me I'll be soaking in a bathtub full of hand sanitizer, surrounded by canned food, and gripping a shotgun because I am filthy. So filthy.

I LOVE PEACHES! - The Ultimate Travel Guide To The Land Of Peaches

Your soft curves tantalize my eyes and your pink fuzzy flesh tempts my tongue. I'm drawn into your sweet juices like a suckling babe. Your ripe goodness, so bountiful, is nurture for my natural appetites. I want to bite so deep into you, your wetness dribbles down my chin. I no longer care. I'm lost, abandoned in your sweetness.

And so my love affair with peaches has begun. Now I finally understand what Nicolas Cage meant when he said: I can eat a peach for hours. Yum.

If you haven't guessed, it's peach season. Peach season doesn't mean much to you city folk with your supermarkets and your everything-all-the-time attitudes and your fancy restaurants and your iPhones and your running water and your indoor toilets. Truth be told, before this summer peach season never meant anything to me either and I could not have told you when the season started (I always imagined it would be sometime around prom though . . . ), but living out in this country-ass town has some serious benefits - the principle being intimate knowledge of the most delicious peaches on earth.

I totally underestimated the transformative power of peaches. My first local peach was nothing short of life changing paradigm shift. Suddenly, there was chance for peace in the Middle East, America could solve its debt crisis without harming the poor and underprivileged, my life wasn't a downward spiral of regret and shattered illusions, but most importantly, I could finally forgive George W. Bush. That is a powerful peach. If there is something so unquestionably good on this earth, then maybe this isn't such a bad place after all.

The downside to eating the best peaches on earth is that I can never go back or have anything less than perfection. I can never buy a supermarket peach and think, "eh, close enough." I can’t eat a peach that has been shipped from another hemisphere. I can’t eat a peach out of can. I can't even play Super Mario Brothers because saving Princess Peach seems like such a waste of time compared to enjoying the real thing. After eating delicious, local peaches it angers me that food manufacturers make food products that "taste like" peach or have "peach flavoring." NOTHING is better than the real thing. This blatant fakery is offensive to my heart, body, and mind - nay! It is offensive to my very existence. This simply cannot stand and I am fully prepared to write a strongly worded letter to my representative on this matter.

You love peaches too? That's great. It's certainly not a contest, but if it were I'd be winning. So, if you love peaches let me give you a couple pointers on how to be a better peach lover.

 First, you have to serenade it:

Then, you have to make sweet love to it:

To top 10 reason why I am No. 1 Handsome Über CacoPeach Lover:

1. Wrote a 121 page account of the inaccuracies contained in Roald Dahl's James and the Giant Peach.
2.  I adopted a baby girl to name her Fay Elberta, then didn't let her have any of my peaches.
3.  Bathed in peach juice, then made love to myself.
4.  I gave up nectarines because they made peaches jealous.
5.  I ate a peach pit so that it would grow inside of me and I could be pregnant with baby peaches.
6.  I listen and I ask questions. I really do want to know how peaches are feeling. Open up to me.
7.  I stopped hanging around with my friends so I could spend more time with peaches. They made me act immature anyway.
8. I went back to school to get my accounting degree. I don't really like accounting, but there are a lot good opportunities out there and the money is pretty good to. I think it will give us the kind of stable lifestyle that can support where we want to get to, you know, family, car, and the picket fence. I'll just make writing and art a hobby, you know, that's what it really is anyway. You can't build a stable life on the arts.
9. I keep my hair cleaned up. Peaches bought me a new electric razor because she said it would be a lot easier for me to not look like a hobo. Peaches also got me a nose hair trimmer, which was pretty thoughtful. Next week we're going to the mall to get a new wardrobe; we're going to Structure and Gap. Peaches says my style is too "bohemian." It kinda is. I've made a lot of changes and it feels pretty good. Peaches says I clean up really well.
10. I killed my soul for peaches.

WTF?

Sometimes common sense and lucid thought just doesn't do it. Sometimes it just doesn't slice the ham, cut the mustard, butter the bread, or reheat the Hot Pocket. Sometimes I like to get weird . . . real weird.


Go ahead, scratch that itch.

 

APOLLO 18 - I Didn't Even Bother With This Movie Review

What a goddamn lemon. Somehow I really got sucked up into the hype machine during the build-up for Apollo 18's release. The cryptic, grainy trailers piqued my interest like a hot lady sitting on the bus with a really short skirt; however, when this lady uncrossed her legs all I saw was a big fat dong.

This movie review marks a departure from my typical movie reviews in that this time I didn’t actually bother to see the movie. What?!  How can you deliver a cogent and insightful review of the movie if you haven’t seen it?  First off, I find this question offensive. Not that I want to get off on the wrong foot or create a bad first impression, but fuck you. Who do you think you are? You barge your way onto my blog and tell me how to run things? I don’t think so. I’ve worked too damn . . . well, I was going to write “hard,” but . . . suffice to say I have done stuff with some discernible amount of effort. Whatever. The point is, if you are expecting anything cogent or insightful then it is obvious you have not read anything on this blog and that hurts my feelings. There, I said it.


Sorry, I just lashed out there. I didn’t mean that. I dunno what’s been going on with me. I guess I thought I would get more visitors here and really I’m just disappointed with myself. Now I’m transferring that anger to you. It’s not fair, you’re right. It really is my own fault. I mean, who would do a movie review about a movie they haven’t even seen? Jesus! Is that arrogance or just stupidity? Wow, this has been a real eye opener for me.

I totally got you. I didn’t learn anything.

Oh, BTW:

THERE’S CRABS ON THE MOON! THE RUSSIANS GOT THERE FIRST! THEY DIE! IT’S A BUNCH OF CHEAP THRILLS! WAKKA WAKKA WAKKA! I’M STILL THE YAHTZEE KING!

GEMZ OF THE INTERWEBZ #3 - Swineskin Pointquest XV

And the winner of this round of internetting is: this person! Yay, this person. This is, at this moment in time, the funniest thing on the internet. The Wizard decided it, now it is fact. Deal with it. If you don't like it, get your own fantastic robes, mystical power to control the elements, and then start proclaiming things to be true. It's not that hard.

Rick Perry Is Coming . . .

My love affair with Rick Perry continues...

Daily Demotivations

Check out what you've been missing! I think you are a little too proactive and energetic so I added a demotivational page to knock you down a peg or two.

FRIGHT NIGHT - The Least Offensive Movie Review

What is Fright Night? What exactly is supposed to be so frightening about it? Do we really need another emo, glittering vampire movie? No, we don't, and luckily Fright Night doesn't give it to us. This vampire certainly does not  care about your stupid human feelings - I was pleasantly surprised.

Honestly, if this is not the role that Colin Farrell was born to play then I'm a jackass: hunky, suburban, working class Joe who moonlights as a serial rapist. He saunters freely around people's houses leering at moms and underaged teens alike, smiling and exuding the kind of confidence that a frat boy displays once you start feeling the roofies. There is just something about Colin Farrell that absolutely screams out: "I'm a rapist!" and what fantastic work on behalf of the casting director to tap into that natural rapey energy for this villainous role.

To fulfill his unholy desires, Jerry, the handy, do-it-yourself vampire in Fright Night, constructed his own impressive modern and innovative take on the classic rape dungeon. It's a rape dungeon in function, but in appearance it is merely the second floor of his inconspicuous suburban home. And staying under the radar isn't the only thing it has going for it! The sturdy framework, clean sheetrocking, and secure design really showed that Jerry  studied and honed his loathsome craft seriously over the past 400 years.  Though Bob Villa certainly is not a vampire rapist, he could appreciate the efficient, clean work of Jerry's little upstairs project.

And do you know how hard it is for a vampire to make a trip to Home Depot? Oh my God! First of all, he had to wait for winter so that it gets dark before they close, then, once inside, he was surrounded by tons deliciously retarded people that he couldn't eat. Willpower alert! Seriously, who at home depot knows their ass from their elbow, let alone a dovetail from a lap joint? When you're a serious rape dungeon craftsman, like Jerry, it must be absolutely infuriating to watch these foolish humans bungle their hard and softwoods. And who would ever miss them? Some degenerate, half-wit selling paint isn't going to be missed, that's for sure. He needs to be eaten! Spill that blood! NO! That's where Jerry's true dedication to the craft takes over. Despite his near overwhelming urge to devour everyone at Home Depot, Jerry withholds gratification, politely pays for his lumber, sheetrock, and screws, and goes home to build the most awesome suburban rape dungeon in Nevada.

Now, Jerry isn't just a one dimensional rapist. He's not just a "invite them over and imprison them in my rape dungeon" rapist; where's the challenge in that? Only a stripper would fall for that, and I'm not even sure they count. No, he's gotta a go bigger, more ambitious. A real proactive raper. Jerry brings his raping skills to the club where he is considerably aided in his pursuits by his super hunky exterior and his ability to move swiftly and cling to ceilings with superhuman ability. As if super hunky wasn't enough! P'shaw! And if that isn't proof that this guy is the wonderkin of raping, his blood is like pure GHB! The date rape drug! Crazy! I know! Just one taste and women fall in to a easily manipulable stupor. If some raging frat boy was bitten by a radioactive, rapist spider, you'd have Jerry; and if that radioactive frat boy moved next door to you, then you'd be in Fright Night!

Daily Demotivations

THE ONION - Fake News, Real Ads

Brian Cridge, head of online advertising

The Onion has started charging for access to its site. As justification for this move, the online fake news source sited the rising costs of paper, printing presses, gasoline, and other archaic operational costs, as having an adverse effect on the production and distribution chain. Also, The Onion simply could not fit enough ads for the new Scion tC on every page, or make them big enough, to support continued free access. Brian Cridge, head of online advertising, expressed his frustrations at not being able to fill 100% of the The Onion with ads for the sporty and customizable Scion tC. He was also disappointed that he could not rename The Onion, The Scion tC. "You know, if these fake journalists would take their heads out of the clouds, I could make this rig a shit ton of money. These fake journalists think their fake news is so important? How does fake news pay the bills? I'll see those assholes in line at the soup kitchen while I roll by in my pimped out Scion tC with the 4-piece aero kit. Cha-ching!"

Sheri Nugal, online delivery team lead

It is unclear how an audience who is accustomed to reading and sharing fake news stories freely will react to paying for their fake news content. Sheri Nugal, The Onion's online delivery team lead, defended the move by pointing out that people on the internet have a long, documented history of wanting to pay for information that's on the internet. “We’ll be fine,” the team lead confidently stated, “just fine.” With the ability to freely share articles, The Onion has grown tremendously through social networking; however, by inserting gatekeepers and restricted access to those same articles, The Onion hopes to maintain its social media momentum through the power of ancient magic and praying.

Ultimately, the move towards a pay-site makes sense because The Onion provides a valuable service not offered anywhere else on the internet. Known for its factual and truthful nature, the internet has yet to deliver another reliable source for things that are fake and entertaining that could rival The Onion. In this environment of primacy, The Onion's move stands as a bold one sure to corner the "stuff on the internet that is fake, mildly amusing, and easy to share because it is free, but now you have to pay for it instead of just finding one of a myriad of free alternatives" market. Bold indeed.

RICK PERRY VS ELI PORTER - IDIOT SHOWDOWN!

VOTING FOR THE IDIOT SHOWDOWN HAS CLOSED. THE WINNER IS RICK PERRY. CONGRATULATIONS, YOU IDIOT.


FIRST OF ALL, let's get something straight-what is in an idiot? We all are. Everyone. In life we all go to great lengths to extend ourselves beyond our limits, and this is how we learn and grow, but this is also how we get caught out looking like dicks. Sometimes things don't even have to be that far away to be beyond our reach. If you've ever been holding a stack of folders filled with loose paper and a mug full of coffee while trying to 3-hole punch a TPS report and you refuse to set anything down on the nearby table because "this will just take a second"—you are an idiot. If you've ever driven an manual transmission through traffic with a whole banana cream pie on your  lap while you scoop at it with a fork in one hand, shift with your other hand, work the clutch with one leg, and steer with the other knee— you are an idiot. You see, it doesn't take much to be an idiot and life certainly presents enough opportunities, which we are happy to oblige. Even though it is undoubtedly easier for some, being an idiot is natural for all. 


As a species we continually alternate through states of genius and idiocy, but these are really just branches of the same tree. We reach beyond our grasp, we push the limits, and when we succeed we are geniuses; when we reach too far and blunder face first  into the concrete wall of our limits, we end up as the idiot. Yes, that next line that will make our rap go off the hook is simply one line too many and the logic that will justify our seemingly irrational beliefs slips so easily between our fingers. When we painfully and publicly stumble over the hurdles of our own limits, there is only one thing left to do: stare bewildered into the camera of life and blurt out, “I’m the best mayne, I deed it!” Then pause, stuttering to cover or staring blankly until the awkwardness is too painful and life has to look away. In that moment, you really deed it, mayne. 


So, embrace your inner idiot, because, you know what? You’re stuck with it.

THE SHOWDOWN


I love idiots, all kinds, and, believe me, we can smell our own kind. With so many idiots to choose from we must undertake the unenviable task of finding the best and brightest idiot star amongst the idiot galaxies. 

Fighting out of the red corner, we have the governor of Texas, a handsome gentleman with the mind of a child and the arsenal of a man. Don't bother with a condom because it's Rick Perry!

Fighting out of the blue corner, we have some bewildered, impossibly incoherent rapper making his debut on public access cable. Check your dental because here comes Eli Porter! 

The criteria for deciding this epic battle is your own, devise and algorithm, read some tea leaves, spin the bottle, or whatever it takes. No matter who wins or loses, we all win . . . and lose. Truly, if there was ever something that mattered less, it couldn't possibly exist.

Did I stutter? No? Well, someone will. Let the painful awkwardness begin!

"Abstinance worked for me . . . uh . . . I'm the best mayne... I deed it"

Dr. Phil Approves Tips For A Healthy, Positive Life!

Guess who read my article, 5 Essential Tips For Enjoying A Healthy, Positive Life!
Dr. Phil! Yes, that's right, Dr. Phil was so impressed with my tips and insight that he took the time to hand write a letter to me expressing his appreciation.

 Wow! Dr. Phil, despite what everyone says, you are still the best!

5 Essential Tips For Enjoying A Healthy, Positive Life!

Life is awful. It really is. People who tell you otherwise are on drugs or fucking the neighbor's wife, and the only reason they are doing either one of those things is to escape how awful life is. Some people have called me a pessimist... that's not true. I'm really an upbeat kinda guy, it just so happens that the stuff I'm upbeat about is really negative and depressing. That's not really my fault, is it? That's your problem... goddamn labels.

So, FYI, now my mom is bangin' some new dude. She told me that I should meet him. Oh really? Apparently, he's smart, a writer, and an artist. We have so much in common! And this is good to know: that the dude my mom is bangin' is just like her son, me. That's healthy. Why would I have issues?

You are supposed to want what makes other people happy, especially the ones you love, but no one puts that to the test more than the one's you love. No one knows how to stretch the boundaries of human generosity and kindness like loved ones. It's like, while you thought you were merely spending gay 'ol times together, they were really studying and probing your every weakness so that they could strike with pinpoint precision and swiftly excise your tender, human soul at their earliest convenience.

Family is possibly the worst. They grew up with you, they raised you. Not only do they know your weaknesses, they made your weaknesses. Yes, through years of mental manipulation and neglect, it's like they've programed a "back door into the system" and they can just crash that muthafucka whenever they please. TOTAL SYSTEM FAILURE! There's a lot of movies about superheroes, but, you know what? If you've ever been to a family holiday, Easter, Thanksgiving, or, Lord have mercy, Christmas, and you made it until the very end without losing your shit... that's a real superpower. Every year you don't punch a sibling or tell your insane aunt just how fucking insane she really is, you are a superhero.

And in the end, sometimes it's the things you don't do that show how much you care.

Top 5 tips for staying upbeat and positive while your loved ones try to destroy your soul:

• Drugs. Lots of them.

•  NyQuil. We love you, you giant fucking Q. 

• Hooker Role Play. Nothing lets off that anger quicker that taking it out on a hooker. Seriously, dress 'em up like someone you despise, knock 'em around, tie 'em up, whip the shit out of 'em (all of this is extra, by the way). You know those people you hate and think: "fuck 'em!" Well, you can, literally.

• Food. There is a reason why there are so many morbidly obese people, because even though food isn't love, it's pretty damn close. And, you know what? There isn't really a lot of love going around, so guess what? We've got a lot of fatties. Don't hate, there are certainly worse things to fill that void in your soul with than chicken nuggets and Sarah Lee frozen cheese cake. Nom noms!

•  Fire. Yes, setting fire to things can be extremely gratifying. I recommend starting out small and as people fail to take notice of your obsession, go progressively bigger. Once you experience the thrill of getting away with your first arson, you'll be hooked!

RISE OF THE PLANET OF THE APES - THE EXCLUSIVE PNI INTERVIEW

Rise of the Planet of the Apes, like a warm, pillowy, ball of dough under the care and attention of a master baker, has risen. RotPotA is a spellbinding romp through the ultimate "what if?" scenario: what if John Lithgow found work again? Pure genius is the answer. I wondered what 'ol Johnny boy had been up to for the last decade, and apparently he was deeply imbedded in a retirement home for Alzheimer's patients doing research for his role as an Alzheimer's patient who should be in a retirement home. The years of careful study certainly paid of because his off-beat, absent-minded weirdness was unlike any of the off-beat, absent-minded weirdness he has become known for. Nailed it. That, folks, is what we in the business like to call acting.

The following is a transcript of my exclusive interview with Mr. John Lithgow:

Me: John, thank you so much for taking the time to talk to us today.

John: My pleasure.

I only wish that the whole movie could have been focused on John Lithgow and his wacky hijinks, but instead they had to muddle the whole story by involving some apes. See, the problem with the apes is it just confused the hell out of me, emotionally. With Lithgow, at least I know where I stand, I want him to overcome his adversity, beat the odds, and make it out OK. In short, I know who's team I'm on, Team Lithgow. Now, you throw in all this monkey business and all of a sudden I don't know who's team I'm on or even what game I'm playing. The main monkey, Caesar, is amazing, his experience is so powerful, and his plight so relateable that I can't help but identify and attach myself emotionally to his journey, which is fine until he leads a revolution against the humans! That's my species! Nooooooo! My childlike moral compass can't handle it!

I continually found myself rooting for Caesar and his pals to go 187 on a muthafuckin' cop. Wait! I don't mean that! When that mean looking monkey was facing down that black guy in the downed helicopter, something deep inside said "do it." No! That's a lie! I felt real, genuine joy as Caesar and company broke through the human ranks and made it to freedom amongst the redwoods. Jesus Christ! I am a monkey lover!

For shame!

As a human myself, how could I allow myself to get so close to the enemy? What sort of monkey magic possessed me and won me over, heart and mind? I don't know if I will ever be able to forgive myself or fit back into human society again. I don't fit in as a human because I am too ape, and I don't fit in with apes because I am too human. Oh, what cruel fate. You damned dirty apes . . . I love you.

Also, I'd like to add: fuckin' Malfoy.

Move all my shares into banana futures . . . Yeah, that's right, fuckin' Bananas!

GOD'S BLOG - Proppers!

Obviously, I write this stuff in a terrible voice and sometimes it's so bad it scares me, but just because I hate what I do doesn't mean that I don't appreciate people who do it so much better. I really am glad that someone is able to get it right. I'm truly envious, but don't worry, I won't cut off his wife's head (that's a Se7en reference, I'm not actually psychotic).


This is how it's done:
http://www.newyorker.com/humor/2011/08/08/110808sh_shouts_simms

COWBOYS AND ALIENS - WORST MOVIE REVIEW EVER WRITTEN!

Cowboys and Aliens, this is the big climactic action scene.

Cowboys and Aliens? A vague title including two seemingly dissonant factions  -  the first: real, rugged, and the largest demographic of Ford truck owners; the other: a fevered, often violating, pubescent dream of kids who enjoy math. What’s not to like? Everyone gets equal service, the same, equal, awful service.  I’m a big fan of Favreau and the way his name rolls off my tongue, but I have a feeling he has pushed the limits of how much alcohol I need to consume to enjoy his movies. Iron Man 1, I could enjoy sober. Iron Man 2, I needed a couple gin shots with brewsky chasers. Cowboys and Aliens, I shotgunned a pint of absynthe and spent the last half of the movie blind and having a conversation with the Planters Peanuts guy. To enjoy Favreau’s next movie I’ll have to inject Everclear directly into my veins and spend the next five years in a coma. I'm coming home Mr. Peanut!

With such an all-star cast, how did it all go so horribly wrong? Fresh off of her Italian holiday, is there a hotter starlet than Olivia Wilde? After his complicity in the rape of Indiana Jones, was there anyone we wanted to see redeemed more than Harrison Ford? Since he is my idol, is there anyone on Earth we would rather be than Daniel Craig? I don’t know the answer to the first two questions, but the last one is a resounding “NO!” In addition to hot abs,  Daniel Craig has brought a conflicted, complex, and nuanced approach to his roles as good and bad characters alike in movies like Casino Royale and Layer Cake. He just simmers in every role, ready to burn anyone foolish enough to get too close. Nobody is a bigger fan than me. I wonder what he smells like? Plus, he recently married Rachel Weisz – my total Hollywood dream babe! OMG! It’s like me and Daniel are living the dream, together, as one! I want to live inside of him and wear his skin and walk around in it and make love to his beautiful wife in it. We are like one entity, me and DC. Nobody can keep us apart... NOBODY!

Anyway, why do aliens always get right up in people’s faces and scream? That’s stupid. If I’m an alien and I’ve traveled billions of star-miles to get to Earth and when I finally get close to a human all I can think of is to get right in his face and scream some unintelligible shit? I don’t think so. What in the hell were those alien’s doing for all the star-years it took to get here? I don’t drive to work without thinking about what I’m going to say at my morning meeting. I don't just show up and start screaming in my secretary’s face. If I were traveling to an alien planet and I had many star-years to get there, I would totally think of something really awesome and witty to say. Although, I’ll bet that when I got to the alien planet I’d watch one of their movies and it would be about some idiot human screaming in an alien’s face. I guess that’s life . . . star-life. Zing!

I LOVE MALAYSIA! - The Ultimate Travel Guide to Malaysia

A quick glance at Google analytics has proven to me what I've always suspected, Malaysia loves me. There are depressingly few people that visit this blog, and for depressingly good reasons, but I am ecstatic that a majority of my guests are from what I now consider to be my adopted nation, Malaysia. Yes, Malaysia, you have welcomed me with open arms, you've peered deep into the vacant spot where my soul should be and you filled it up with your humid, tropical love. Someday I hope to visit you and share my love with you in a much more intimate fashion in as many places as I can get at.

When I  am finally able to visit my new nation I will wear my finest baju and put on my favorite songkok in all of the kampung I can see. I can't wait to share stories of our many similarities over keropok lekor and nasi melak. It will be like coming home again, for the first time.

To honor the love and respect paid to me by the people of Malaysia, I will show my appreciation in the only way that my stunted emotional growth will allow - with derision and sarcasm.

These two buildings (their name  roughly translates to "Giant H") are the worlds largest sweat shop. 95 percent of all cloths for sale at your local mall were made in these towers. These towers are literally a nightmare within. The horrors and degradations that occur upon the helpless workers inside are beyond what you silly westerners were able to dream up in you 7 terraces of purgatory. The local people's name for this roughly translates to: "Palace of Lost Souls." It is a cruel fate that awaits those desperate enough to find themselves trapped within.

This is the Malaysian Prime Minister. He was on heavy sedatives when this picture was taken because that is a traditional pastime of the Malaysian elite. Much like the Victorian upper-class adoration for pale, white skin (which connotes a level of wealth that allowed one to purchase expensive sunblock made from beluga fat), the Malaysian upper-class takes a near fatal cocktail of painkillers and sedatives to indicate that they have the level of wealth that will allow them to sit around in a bleary eyed stupor all day then pay for medical bills and rehab when they start foaming at the mouth and pass out.

This is Malaysian food! It's made with a specific blend of fresh spices developed over centuries to give white people diarrhea - and it's worth every agonizing minute.

Fun Facts About Malaysia!

• Likelihood of U.S. invasion: 18%
   
• Percent of Malaysians named "Rick": 4%
   
• Favorite Beatle: Ringo
   
• Capitol City: Detroit
   
• Official Language: Malaysian and Romulan
   
• Largest Export: Malaysians
   
• National Bird: Cocoa Beware
   
• National Pastime: Recovering from dysentery
   
• National Anthem: Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac
   
• National Currency: Beads and animal pelts
   
• Least favorite Beatle: John Lennon

Malaysia holds the world record for the least populated building, which is 1.

Malaysia gained its independence from the Banana Republic January 4th, 1982, in what later became known as the Coconut Revolution. An uneasy truce exists to this day.

Malaysia's largest and, by far, most successful tourism marketing campaign is being mistaken for the country that was in The Hangover 2.

Captain America: The First Avenger - BEST MOVIE REVIEW EVER!

Captain America. Captain of a once proud nation. Cappy stands as a symbol of the core values that made America great, values which have been systematically violated and cast aside by that very nation while Captain America slept in his icy bed. When America violated its own values, it violated Captain America - and while he was passed out no less. Disgusting. Such a crime. Literally, anywhere you go in the civilized world, that is a crime. We’ve treated Captain America like a freshmen sorority girl and we should feel terrible (perhaps donate some of our trust fund interest payments to a battered women shelter). But now, finally, we get to hear his story.

Endowed with superhuman speed, strength, and regenerative abilities, along with chiseled abs and muffin titties, how could such a man embody the fightin’ underdog spirit of America? Simple, make us believe that underneath that endless handsome and muscle there is a withered up, asthmatic, near-handicapped man. And isn’t this a near perfect metaphor for the country that Captain America represents? A nation with a military so powerful it could destroy all life on the face of this earth with the touch of a button, yet is convinced that at its heart, it’s very soul, it is a simple, vehemently unsophisticated, mildly retarded man. America believes that deep down inside, at its center, it is merely your toothless cousin from Nebraska who’s overalls are way too big and are caked with cow shit. This way, despite having the largest military on earth and the most powerful weapons ever invented, America, in its own mind, and Captain America, in his own mind, remain the underdog - that scrappy fighter that never backs down from an insult and is always willing to stand up for what’s right. It is true, a weak man knows the value of power, which right now is exactly $98.56 USD per barrel. Go get ‘em Cappy!

First of all, it’s never OK to wear a flag as a piece of clothing. I enjoyed how half the movie was dedicated to justifying Captain America’s appalling fashion decision, but, in the end, even that wasn’t enough. He wears an American flag suit, lame, but wait! It gets better! He does it because he was part of a traveling theater performance company that sang show tunes and danced - which he enjoyed so much that he wanted to wear his shitty costume all the time to constantly be reminded of it. Bullshit. Evil Knieval did it, but at least he was drunk and hated himself. Listen to me, Cappy, you need to burn the uniform of this and every other shitty job you ever left. Trust me, it’s part of the healing process. Get yourself something strappy, play with proportions a little, and it wouldn’t hurt to put a boot cut on those trousers.

So, we know Steve Rogers is dreamboat, but what about the rest of the cast?

• Red Skull. He quit the Nazi’s right? So that makes it cool to say that I think he’s awesome right? Because he is. Did you see those outfits? And that car? Awesome! But if he is still a Nazi, I totally take that back. It's too bad about the face too. I'll bet that is a deal breaker for most women. How could he kiss with those lips? He probably weeps with loneliness when he pounds off his withered, red junk.

• Peggy Carter has an amazing rack, almost as nice as Captain America’s.

• Philip Seymour Hoffman’s stunt double filled in nicely for the role of Dr. Zola.

• Tommy Lee Jones was, again, cast in the role of Tommy Lee Jones in the role that Tommy Lee Jones was born to play . . . over and over again 

So, was the movie any good? Who gives a fuck? You're going to go see it anyway or chances are you've seen it already. I have. I'm just as guilty as you.

5 Hot New Trends in Gum!

When did gum become a luxury item? Especially when it is available for free under any table. Of course, that is the power of marketing. We've been convinced that some indestructible, chewy compound that rids our breath of fish taco stench is worthy of its own designer, leather pouch. And think of all that wasted packaging. Gum doesn't need to be individually wrapped in paper, tucked away in its little tri-folding pouch, then hermetically sealed in plastic to ensure that a substance that will outlast Twinkies stays fresh. It's not that I care about the Earth. Fuck the Earth. I'm sorry, but you environmentalists have nobody to blame but yourselves. I used to be one. I know. I get that we all have to do our part, but do you have any idea how inconvenient that is? And whatever you can manage to do, it's never good enough. It's like a game of one-ups to see who is the greenest and you can't "win" until you are riding a bicycle made of bamboo, recycling your own urine, using your own body oils as a means of hairstyling, and subsisting entirely on a diet  of organic, fair-trade tree bark. If you use plastic bags, you're a monster. If you recycle your plastic bags by washing them out and using them again, you're still a monster. If you dig other people's used plastic bags out of the trash and use them, you're less of a monster, but still a monster. The "true" environmentalist would dig used plastic bags out of his neighbor's trash and fucking eat them to break them down internally and absorb the pollution into his body. Though, in a way, this example makes perfect sense in that the only real way to save the Earth is to kill yourself. So, enviros, it's time to answer the call and make the ultimate sacrifice for Gaia.

Here are the 5 hot new trends in gum:

1. Tiny gum for your tiny dog. (favorite flavor: Dog Butthole)
2. Gum made of crushed up diamonds and the bones of Africans. (favorite flavor: Sadness)
3. Gum infused with the tears of porpoise and blessed by a Yogi. (favorite flavor: Gwyneth Paltrow)
4. Single-malt gum aged for 20 years in American white oak barrels. (favorite flavor: Midlife Crisis)
5. Gum that has been pre-chewed by Ben Affleck so that it loses all its flavor. (favorite flavor: J-Lo)

Top 20 Things to Say to Get the Job of Your DREAMS!

The economy is in the shitter. Unemployment is at an all-time high. Double-dip recession. Soaring energy prices. Debt ceiling. Illegal immigration. The Chinese. Dogs and cats living together. WE'RE ALL FUCKED! The world economy is teetering on the brink of collapse and what you need is that last top-tier corporate job to rape the masses for your fortune, buy your way on to some millionaires’ club private island fully stocked to last through the apocalypse, give the economy that last kick-in-the-ass it needs to send it into complete meltdown, live in luxury while the masses destroy themselves, then finally reemerge a decade later to populate the earth with your seed. Go on, you deserve it. 

But how, you ask?

Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret, in the corporate world accomplishments, experience, and resumes don’t mean shit. If you want to break into the corporate world all you need is two things: confidence and a bone breaking handshake. The handshake is easy, you just need to build up you hand crushing muscles. Just get some of those grippy, springy things and unleash your burning disdain for all humans into every squeeze . . . 8 hours a day. Next time you grab another person’s hand, be the first to merciless crush the shit out of it. They will hate you, but they will respect you.

The second part is a littler harder to teach because people are so weak. The bottom line is you gotta have big swingin' balls, and if you’re a woman, you gotta have even bigger swingin' balls. You think you’ll wait for an interview? Wrong. You want in, you make your own interview. You barge your way in to the boss’s inner chamber and fight whoever gets in your way. And when you finally arrive, don’t you dare put down a resume. You really think some piece of paper is going to do it? Wrong. You think you can walk right up to an untamed wolf with a piece of paper that says: "don't eat me"? Wrong again. Fail. You're dead, again. In this, the moment of truth, you only have one chance. You have to lock eyes with the boss and stare that motherfucker down until he respects your power. If there is any doubt in your heart, mind, or soul he will see it and immediately pounce on your weakness.

Now that you've established your power he must either fight you or listen to what you have to say. If he does permit you to speak within his chamber the only thing that matters is that you speak confidently. Shoot from the hip. Don't pussy out. Never say "please" or "thank you." Remember, confidence means saying whatever you feel like whenever you feel like it - and that's a God given right.

I'll tell you how I got my top-tier corporate job. After I broke his secretary's nose and stared that 8 foot tall son of bitch right back down into his seat I crumpled up my resume and threw it at his face. "Open it up," I said. He looked at the paper. 

"Ten thousand dollars? What the fuck does this mean?"

"That's how much you'll lose every day if you don't hire me."

And he did. Hired. See you on the island. 

That's how it's done, but for all of you who still need some help, here are the Top 20 Things to Say to Get the Job of Your DREAMS!:

1. You need me more than I need you.
2. I have so much talent you can waste.
3. I won't sleep with the interns . . . unless you ask me to.
4. I REALLY don't want to go back to prison.
5. I have a treasure map tattooed on my back and the only way you will see it is if I'm naked and employed.
6. Hire me if you want to take casual Fridays to a WHOLE OTHER LEVEL.
7. You need someone to put Debbie back in her place – and I'm the one to do it.
8. I want to eat your food in the break room while you are not around.
9. I finally understand what you mean when you say you "frown upon" drinking at work.
10. You can get a lot worse than spit in your coffee . . . just sayin'. It could be a lot worse.
11. I want to tell you about my adventures in bird watching and show you pictures of my grandkids for 6 hours.
12. I'll give you one of my two tickets to paradise. Pack your bags we leave tonight.
13. I have most of my fingers, ALL of my toes, and usually don't have this rash. You'll get used to the smell.
14. I have a scepter of +1 ass kissing and an amulet of free refills at Starbucks. Looks like you could use a refill on your weak-ass THACO. Mithril, son. Mithril.
15. Hire me and you won't regret it. Fair warning though, I get gassy after lunch. You may regret it from 1pm to 2:30pm.
16. I have wild mood swings, freak out in elevators, can't eat solid food, and may have narcolepsy. You'll get karma +1.
17. We can hang out all the time, at lunch, after work. I'll get you up in the morning. I just want to watch you breath.
18. This will not be the worst thing I've done in exchange for money . . . <shudder with horror>
19. Hire me and I will bring a piñata filled refreshing horchata to work every day. Make it rain!
20. Hire me because gambling with office petty cash is much more exciting than gambling with my own.