Eighteenth Post. The word eight is kinda spelt funny. Does that count as a joke?

Holla! my fellow bloggards,
So what's been gooooooing on? Its been a while since my last post, but I assure you that during in my time off I wasn't loafing around, but rather doing very important things; like saving the rain forest! To burn later. After I'm done with all the regular forest.  But in all seriousness, my lack of time as of late is because I have a buttload of exams coming up, and also I got braces yesterday and consequently have been spending 45 minutes out of every hour swearing at my goddamn, motherfucking, I-WILL-MURDER-YOU teeth. Oh solid food, how I miss you....

  My temporarily revised food pyramid. 

But I realize I'm starting to sound like one of those whiny losers who posts on their blog complaining about their life and personal problems for all the internet to see and mock. Man, ff I could meet any of these people, the one question that I'd like to ask them is "Why?" If they're looking for attention, then they might as well be shoving their posts into a bottle and throwing them out to sea; which would probably result in the same number of views as them posting their problems on some two-bit no-name page in the jaw-dropping enormity that is the internet.

 Day 12: Noone understands me. Noone knows what it's like to be a 13 year old suburban white teenager.

 Are they looking for sympathy or help? You'd get more sympathy in a klan hood otuside the Apollo theatre. The internet is not some sort of hug powered sympathy machine that dispenses hot cocoa and gently reassurances. The internet is a savage place, an unfeeling place, where the only currency accepted is hurt feelings. Where comments like "fag","photoshopped" and "no, ur mom" are scrawled on every wall, ceiling and floor. Where haggard-looking "Nigerian royalty" roam the streets, scouring the bins of personal inforation for anything usable, begging passerbys for help with banking transactions whilst giant sickly-coloured neon billboards  scream at you, promising  "MAXMUM MEAT STICK MALE ENHANCEMENT, ENGORE YOUR SELF WITH NEW PRODUUCT, OVER INFINITY INCHES GUARANTED!!!!11"

Quite frankly, this is not the place you go for psychiatric help, this is where you go when you die if you were a bad person in life.

But just for the helluvit, I decided to imagine what would happen if the Internet were actually a psychiatric professional. Well, not immediately, first I imagined what it would be like if I swapped brains with a cat (We both died during the operation). But eventually when I did get to the internet thing, here's how it went.

Dr. Internet

Gary: H-hello, Doctor. It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard great things about you and your work.

Dr. Internet: LOL n00b.

Gary:Umm, ok? You see,  I was referred to you by one of your colleagues, Dr. Jewishname. He told me that he sent you my file last week. Have you gone through my patient history?

Dr. Internet: tl;dnr

Gary: Well I suppose it can be a bit wordy (Awkward chuckle). So I'll just tell you what we were working on before Dr. Jewishname had to leave for his family vacation. He and I were working on my motorphobia after the tragic loss of my wife Susan in the car accident . If I recal-

Dr. Internet: Pics or it didn't happen.

Gary: What? But doctor, my wife, she-

Dr. Internet: Was she hot? Pics plz. FAP.FAP.FAP.FAP.

Gary: Now I say! This is highly unorthodox, Dr. Internet. I know you're probably joking around bu-

- WE INTERRUPT THIS BROADCAST FOR AN EMERGENCY MESSAGE FROM MY TEETH -

- WE RETURN TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULE PROGRAM, ALREADY IN PROGRESS-

Dr. Internet: -never gonna let you down, never gonna turn around and hurt you!

Gary: That's the fifth time you've sung that now. Can we please get on with the session?

Dr. Internet: Lamesauce.

Gary: Well doctor it's been over a year now since the accident and I still can't seem to get behind the wheel of a car. Whenever I try, I just see Susan's limp lifeless body trapped in that cage of twisted steel and broken glass. The last tim-Wait, what are you doing with those slides? Is this a Rorshach test? Well I'm not sure what this will accomplish, but you're the professional. That first one, it's a cat asking for what seems to be "cheezburger". The second one,uhh, it's two lesbians making out. Doctor I don't see how this could possibly be related to my motorphobia. Huh, now what this third on-OH GOD. Is that a huma- but it shouldn- how did it even get bent like that?

Dr. Internet: Lol, pwned.

Gary: Goddamn it Dr. Internet, I am sick of this. How are you treat me this way! How is anything of this supposed to help me work through my phobia? I came to you, a healthcare professional, in a time of great need and this what "help" you offer me? Have you no shame, sir? Have you no empathy?

Dr. Internet: Cool story, bro.

It was at this time I grew tired of this ,by now pointless, exercise and imagined myself a gun. Which I used to shoot the good doctor several times in the face.Then I imagined him back to life, and shot him several more times. I proceeded to do this for hours on end until my imaginary hand began cramping up.

Well there you are, my readers, a haunting recollection of my brief time with the Internet. Brrr, I still get the chills just thinking about it. Well until next time, don't forget. While the internet may be a scary and foreboding thing, it's even scarier to imagine living without it.

Com-post # 17. Earth day puns are Earth day fun!

Happy Earth Day, my fellow bloguls,

For the epically unaware,  today is Earth Day and tonight at approximately 8:30 Pacific time, over a billion people on this big blue marble will shut off their lights in recognition of society's need to take action against climate change. I for one will be participating in this event fully. Partly because I'm the actually the one who's been melting the glaciers.

 Look you can see me in this one. Hi me!

But also because I've always been intrigued by events where people gather under a common cause, one specifically that isn't killing other people because they don't share their beliefs down to the theological molecule or smoking up a fattie infront of some jam band because "good vibrations" will make the world go round.

Or both.

It's exactly this kind of public outcry turned action that shows me that we aren't all the apathetic feelings-hurters the internet has led me to believe; and while the idea that shutting off our lighting fixtures for a single hour will do a lick of a difference against global warming is laughable, like everytime we're told whenever we recieve a birthday "gift" from great aunt Mabel. "It's the thought that counts"

Wow, another cat sweater, Aunt Mabel. I love it. I'll wear it everyday.

Well as of this post it roughly T-minus 1 hour to the big black out. So I guess I'll start turning off all the lights in my home. Better now then when the government death squads start patrolling the streets. That's how they're enforcing this thing, right? As for what I'll be doing for this hour? I'm not quite sure yet. All I know is I found my collection of antique rifles and my safari hat in the attic this afternoon, and it's going to be plenty dark out. Plenty dark.

PS: For anyone whose subscribed to this blog via a RSS feed, sorry for the all the faulty updates. This post was having some terrible formatting problems. So I had to keep republishing to see if my attempts to fix it were working. 

Something something sixteen something blog! Hooray! (Shut up good titles are hard to come up with)

Terrible news! my computer blogrammers,

Let me start in the beginning. So I was in the lab trying to finish my latest invention (It's a machine that turns cats into dogs), when I heard a knocking sound at the front door. But when I went to answer it, lo and behold, there was no one there. This happens again, twice even. So at this point like any sane, rational person who's been taking all his pills like a good patient so there's no need to check Dr. Mandelbaum, I made an immediate dash towards my panic room whilst screaming about the return of the invisible woodpeckers.

There they are, outside my window, waiting for me.

That was 46 hours ago. After much contemplation I surmise it may not have been the invisible woodpeckers after all and all in a likelihood was just some punk kid. It also seems that when building this panic room, I may have miscalculated the necessity of a doorknob.

 God, it was staring me right in the face.

So now I'm stuck in here, at least until I can figure a way out. Fortunately I have enough supplies to last several months, provided I don't require food, water or air.  I have however thought far enough ahead to bring my laptop. So I figure I may as well update my blog, it's not like I could use it call for help or anything. I mean it's not like it's a telephone.

  Also not a telephone.

Well dear readers, it looks like it may be the end for me. So I've decided to leave you with detailed instructions as to what to do in case of my untimely demise.


Step 1: Check to make sure I really am dead and not just asleep.Some people sleep better when the window open. Some sleep better with the window closed. I sleep best ontop of a pool of red food colouring while wearing my zany prop knife hat. Which may have been the reason I was never invited to sleepovers when I was a kid. Sigh.




Step 2: So you're sure, I'm dead. Now what? First things first, while I congratulate you on making this far into the house alive, if you wish to stay that way, don't touch anything on your way out. I don't trust conventional security systems, so I build my own. Note: If you enjoy having all of your skin, I wouldn't open the silverware drawer. Just sayin'.

There's also a cobra in the toaster.

 Step 3:  Surprise, you'll be planning my funeral! Now you see the hundreds of names I've scrawled in what looks like blood throughout the walls of my home? That's my enemies list. Err, more likely than not, your name will also be on this list. But since you're doing me this favour feel free to cross it off.  Now you'll need to get these people to attend my funeral. But it won't be easy. You won't able to tell any of them what they're going to, since I've burnt down more than my share of bridges with these people (and the occasional orphanage). Instead tell them they're attending the premiere of one of those stupid vampire movies. 

[No, I'm not going to do a Twilight MS Paint mock-up. Every possible joke that can be made about the series has been already made. So I'm not going to waste my time]

 Step 4: Now I know you won't be able to get all of them. Some of them will be already dead, others fictional characters or inanimate objects. Some will just be just described as "that one guy who sat too close to me on the bus". But do try your best. Now that you've assembled my greatest enemies together, lure them onto the ship that will be waiting in the harbour. Once you are far enough out at sea inform them to their predicament, more than a few will jump ship and attempt to swim the hundreds of miles to shore. Don't be shy about using the harpoon gun to retrieve them. That's what it's there for.

I couldn't possibly let you leave before trying one of my famous devilled eggs.

Step 5: Inform the guests they may leave in an inflatable life raft, after paying their respects. After their angry, bitter and  profanity laden speeches, hold up your end of the bargain and let them leave. Then, release the nawhals.
 

Step 6: Rather than a messy burial, I'd much rather be cremated. Then I'd like my ashes to be thrown somewhere of unparalleled majestic like the Ayer's Rock in Australia or Robert Downey Jr. face.

Step 7: Divvying up the goods. In my lifetime I have collected many rare and and valuable items (holographic pogs, purple M&Ms and Amelia Earhart just to name a few). For helping me out in my time of need, you and anyone else who helped you in fulfilling my last wishes may have any item from my collection. Careful though, most of my antiquities are also booby-trapped. Wear kevlar. As for the rest of my things? I highly doubt anyone need such trinkets as my end-world-hunger ray or cure-for-cancer beam. So just burn the rest of it to the ground.


Oh wait, my experiments, I almost forgot about them. I don't think PETA would approve of my burning them alive, so just release them at PETA's headquarters in Norfolk, Virgina. They'll do the humane thing.

This is Mr. Scruffaduff. He likes walkies after dinner and to be scratched behind his brood pouch.

So, there you go, a detailed of that things I'll need done when I'm gone. Heh, to think the panic room that I built to protect me is going to be the end of me. Wait. The panic room that I built? That probably means it's a piece of crap. Yep. Just punched a hole in the wall. I'm guessing drywall and drywall alone wasn't the best thing to build a panic room out of. Well good news readers! It looks like I'll be living a long long time. At the very least until tomorrow. Well I'm going back to work on that machine, its only half done. Right now it's just turning cats into foxes. So until next time, don't forget: Mr. Scruffaduff is always watching you. Always.

Fifteen against green.

Yo! How's its hangin' my synablogues?

Now I don't want to get all sentimental on you guys, but it seems like with each passing day, I'll look out my window and I'll be able to see a little more of Spring. Maybe it'll be the scenery getting greener , or the return of the cheerful songs of chickadees from their winter migration. My point being they need to cut that shit out, right now. Now before I go into my tirade, I should say I have no problem with Spring, I like Spring; it's a nice season. But Spring, much like whatever band happens to be opening for Nickelback, may be all nice and good, it also heralds the coming something darker, something entirely more evil. Allergy Season.

This graph took entirely too long to make.

As you can plainly see, I loathe allergy season. It and it alone has the power to turn me into a red-eyed snot-dripping mass of used tissues. Truly it is a formidable opponent.  Sure, I could just take the occasional allergy pill, but in essence that'd just be me surrendering to the plants and it's a slippery slope from there, my friend. Sure today we're taking our allergy pills before you we leave for work. But tomorrow (literally tomorrow) ,we'll be taking our euthanasia pills before we are forced to toil in the mines under the oppression of our leafy overlords!

Oh my god, it's already happening!

What truly astonishes me however is how many people are simple fine with this. Every day when you step out of your hyperbaric oxygen chambers (you live in one of those too right?), you're bombarded with with waves upon waves of nearly invisible invaders, which then proceed to lodge themselves all up on your grill.But hey it's only pollen right? Sure, but do you know what that pollen really is? Plant jizz. The pollen grain plays the same role fertilization mechanism for flower bearing plants as sperm does in animal reproduction.Yep that's right, when ever you step outside on a windy day and take a second to marvel at the trees waving back and forth, you are becoming the unwilling participant in a giant cross-species bukkake.

She had it coming, waggling her thorax like that. Whore! 

But still they're only plants right? I mean we use their wood to build our crappy swedish furniture, we spin their fibres to make our clothing, hell, we even eat them. Why should we be afraid of something we use literally everyday of our lives.You fool! That was their plan all along! They lulled us into a false sense of security while they builtup their stockpile weapons for the future war. Poison ivy, stinging nettles, bramble thorns, these are just the tip of the iceberg. Sure these "weapons" may pale in comparison to our high-tech death machines. But don't forget they still outnumber us at least 1000 to 1 and let's definitely not forget that without our technology we're pretty much useless in fighting,  have you ever tried beating up a Redwood in hand-to-hand combat? 

 

We're gonna need a bigger axe.

But now what? What are we do about the green menace? Are we doomed to witness the extinction of the human race? Fortunately there are things you can do to aid in the war effort.

- Instead of  recycling, try decycling. It's where you light your recyclables on fire and throw them in heavily wooded areas.

- Become a vegetarian, and inflict horrifying psychological trauma, by eating their dead in front of them.

- Water all the gardens on your block with a 30/70 mixture of bleach and more bleach.

- Bitchslap a ficus plant. 

- Plants grow better when you talk to them, give your houseplants the silent treatment.Followed by the pouring bleach on them treatment.

-Fact: Plants need to be planted in the earth to survive. Solution: Blow up the Earth.

So there comrades, ways that even you can help out against the green menace.Well until next time, keep up the good fight against against those photosynthesizing freaks, comrades. As for me? I'm going out to pick up more tissues.

Episode 14: Obama-rama Drama or The case of the Tarded Tweet

Wassup, my fellow polliblogs?

So have I ever got a topic for you today. That's right, I've actually prepared something in advance. I'll give you a moment to recover from your individual heart attacks. Good? Ok, then. So Digg, the website not the incorrectly spelled verb has been a buzz as of the late (read:yesterday) about some guy who posted a tweet calling for the assassination of the President of the US.

Now while it may be like common sense to you or I, it seemed that at no point did it cross our would-be assassin's mind, that it may not be such a great idea to post death threats against the most powerful man on the face of the earth. On the internet no less, a media platform where ANYONE and EVERYONE could see.I mean, tt wasn't even the case that he was posting his rhetoric under some pseudonym on some no-name website. Nope, he opted to use his Twitter account, which he signed up for using his real e-mail address making it all the easier to have him tracked down. He later posted a half-hearted, please-don't-send-me-to-prison redact of the tweet. Although it seems that all tweets pertaining to this matter have since been removed from his feed as of this post.

Wow really? I mean seriously if I were to even use the words "Obama" and "shoot" in the same sentence, even in something as non-threatening as "I'd love to shoot the breeze with Obama he seems like a cool guy." I'd have the CIA breathing down my neck faster tha- wait I just did didn't I? Crapcrapcrapcrap.....err...ummm.....I believe Barack Obama's health care policies to be the best thing for the American public right now. You would be hardpressed to find a better leader for this nation. He is an inspirational speaker/leader and very handsome man. Please! I have a wife and three kids!

 Biden is ok too.

But its not really the whole "presidential death threat" thing  that bothers me. What really bugs me is the amount of media exposure this guy is getting. I read through the article on Digg, and in the first paragraph  they list the guy's blog's URL. Now I clicked it half-expecting some some 90's reject Geocities site, complete with a tiled U.S. flag background, looping MIDI of "Proud to be an American" and 20 laggy GIFs of Barack Obama morphing into Adolf Hitler. But instead when I clicked the link to the conservi-tard's blog, you know what came up? A generic crappy blogspot blog. Hmmm, you know who else has one of those? That's right me, I have a  generic crappy blogspot blog.

 

This picture is so meta, it could evolve into a butterfree at any moment.

 The point I'm trying to make is "Why won't people come and visit my crappy blog?" I mean halfs of dozens of people have already left hurtful comments on his blog, and just think of the number of people who aren't saying anything, just visiting his site to spit on their screens. He doesn't even have pictures for god's sake! I mean who do you have to kill to get that kind of publici-Oh, right. Maybe the key for publicity is finding the right balance between controversy and treason. That's walkin' a mighty fine line, son.Hmmmmmmmm.  I hope that first lady, Michelle Obama doesn't enjoy her dinner, because she had too big of a lunch. Ha! I can smell the controversy a comin'. Take that White House! Yep, the hits should be rolling in....any....second....now.......

Blog Post #13, wait a minute today's Friday... so that means.... OH SHI-

Whats the haps? my blogged shower drains,

So today whilst I was minding my own business, training a swarm of bees to both carry and operate a 9mm handgun, when I spot in the local news paper that the 6/49, the Canadian lottery; not the number 0.12244898, has reached a whopping 41 million ducats. That's a lot of goddamn money. It's almost enough to make me buy a ticket. Almost. So why won't I buy one? Is it the immeasurably small odds that I'll actually win? No, it isn't. If I believed in numbers and facts and all that baloney-craft, then I certainly wouldn't head down to the race track every Sunday and lose a bundle betting on the dog that one three-legged dog because he's got the the biggest heart or as the medical professionals call it "enlarged".

                 If you laugh at this, you're going to hell.             

                        

Do I think the money will change who I am? Well first of all I know it will change me, preferably into some sort of robotic killing machine,  if I can find the right surgeon. Personally I don't buy the whole money changes people excuse, chances are if you're dick after becoming super rich you were and always will be a dick. Money is like a pair of eyeglasses, it doesn't change anything, it just makes it easier to see what's what.The reason I choose not to play the lottery is because of the stupid sheet you have to fill in to pick your numbers. For god's sake it looks like the inbred retarded baby of a SCANTRON sheet.  If I should ever find out the person who designed that chaotic hodgepodge of boxes and numbers, well, let's just say they'd find the body the next morning with a bullet wound in the head, covered in several thousand bee stings.

Sure I could probably figure it out with some first-grade reading, but who am I, famous British author Sir Kingsley Amis? No, I am not. But maybe just this once I will navigate the labyrinthine passages of the lotto 6/49 ballot for a chance at the jackpot. I mean my coffers have been dwindling the last few months, I've even had to switch from hunchbacked lab assistants to camels in lab coats. It's a sad thing when a man can't even take care of his mail-order laboratory slaves -sigh-.Well, I'm off to the dog track, I hear they've brought in a two-legged dog with a speech impediment, and I'm going to get all over that. So until next time, don't forget: The ocean is deep enough to hide even the darkest of your sins :)

               

Leper cons and Leprechauns: this year I'll know the difference

What's going on, my frozen blogurts,
From the get-go I'm telling you that this post is going to be surprisingly lean, just wanted to say I've done a complete proofread and edit of my past 10 posts and finally finished the "Organ Donation" one. Otherwise not much to report. Oh, wait Happy St. Patrick's Day to everyone. I figure I'd do Paddy's day MS Paint mashup on the subject, but I'm updating today from a very outdated laptop and I freaking despise laptops for their general lack of a mouse. You hear that computer developers? I don't care how many goddamn track packs and keyboard mouse nipple-things you put on a laptop I won't use it if it doesn't come with a mouse. So yeah my point no pictures today. Though I will change the background to the original festive green it once was. I'll also be telling ye how I usually celebrate my St. Patrick's Day.

1. Watch entire "Leprechauns" movie series
2. Wash away memories of horrible movies in metric litre of gin
3. Find a stack of DVDs on coffee table;discover they are the "Leprechauns" movie series
4. Drunkenly slur,"I ffuking lov thosse moviess -hic-"
5. GOTO 1

The post without a name. Is the name of this post.

S'up my hot air blogloons,
I'm back! What a 6 days it's been eh? I was a little burnt out after my Gagarriffic post last almost a week ago so I took a few days off (also I may or may not have a life). Well anyways the feedback I've gotten on my 10th blogiversary megapost spectacularrrrrr (you gotta roll the r's) , was that went over fairly well so I'm happy about that. Alright, so what's up for today's post? Well I don't know. its not like I have anything planned, I have a tendency to bullshit and hope for the best. Not the smartest thing to do, but hey when it works, it works.

Soooo....today, todaaaaaay,to-day. Hmmm. I got it! You know which which race I hate the most? Well not a oubt in my mind, it'd have to be those dirty ugly borderline retar-No, wait I have I have a better idea!

How to win a fight against a small child.
So you're fighting a small child! Why are you doing this? Why not?It is a well known fact that children are God's most evil creation. That's right even worse than the Hitler Shark.

Carcharodon Swastikalis

You ever notice in those horror movies when Satan comes to Earth, he never inhabits, say,  a tiger or a lion or even a rhino? No, because they're never evil enought, he always goes straight for a little kid.The Omen, Rosemary's Baby and Children of the Corn 1-38 are all examples of this.Children are created to look adorable and innocent, yet underneath their smiling facades are lakes of pure black vileness so deep that not even the light of ten thousand suns could break the surface; and you've just chosen to get into a fight with one of these demon-bastards.

Now you'll need to go in prepared. I'm talking Uzis taped to both biceps, no less than 12 hidden knives on your person and a Dora the Explorer doll filled a hand grenade and roofing nails. But even before your epic battle, you'll need to go over their strengths and weaknesses, just so you throughly know what you're getting yourself into.

Strengths
- Children are just at that height, where any punch they swing or kick they throw is roughly crotch level (Men)
- They still often still posess their sharp and jaggedy baby teeth, which they will undoubtedly use.

Should you lose, ths will be the last thing you see.

- If you attack a child, your motherly instinct will cause your ovaries will shoot up to your throat and start strangling you (Women)
- They are seldom alone, often congregating with many others in their hell-swarms or as we know them "Play Groups"
-If you hit a child, they will release a defensive pheromone that will cause adults/police offers in the immediate area to fall under their control and start attacking you.
- Even if you do win, chances are you're going to jail

Weaknesses
- They're really small, to the point where you could pick one up and throw it quite a distance with little effort.
- They lack knowledge of the real world. Pay someone to dress up as Santa Claus and have them tell the child that Christmas is cancelled forever.
-They are easily distracted, jangle your keys and then punch them in the face.
- They have almost no resistance to fire

EDIT: Woooo peeps, can you believe it? Over 100 views and only about 80 of those is me!

Happy 10th Blogiversary!!!

Wooo! Can you believe it, my bloggy biscuits? Can you believe that I've made it all the way to history making 10 posts? That's two whole digits right there mother fucker, you'd need ALL your fingers to count the number of posts I've made. Damn right that's impressive.But  how does one celebrate an occasional as momentous as this? Sure we could go with the usual caviar flavoured champagne and diamond encrusted hookers, but even that doesn't seem fancy enough. We need to kick it up a notch, a notch made in a column of elephant tusk inlaid with rubies and black pearls surrounded by angel winged hookers (the wings are made from California condors) sprinkling rose water flecked with gold. So inorder to mark the occasion,  I've decided to add pictures on my blog!

Now I have a theory, and bear with me it's a little out there. I don't believe that psychiatric wards or "loony bins" as you may know them are places where they rehabilitate the mentally ill. No, I believe that these are places where they secretly hold "crazy-offs" between the patientsie) who can convince the invisible rabbits to stop killing people and  then blending into society by wearing their skin) , until one of them is crowned King or Queen Crazy. Once his or her highness is crowned, they whisk him/her/himher away in a helicopter to Hollywood, where they get to direct the next Lady Gaga music video.Farfetched, you say? Maybe I'm the crazy one, you say? I'm not saying any of this things, you say? Watch this. Seriously watch it, it's critical for the next part.



I'll give you a minute to apologize for being wrong.

.....

I accept your apology. Now for a quick play by play of the crazy.

Now our scene starts 37 seconds in with what seem to be horrible white gimp looking things emerging from medic waste bin/tanning beds. Sure that's a little creepy, but with Lady Gaga's impressive track record, frankly we've expect more from her wo-

Wow, that shut me up. Jesus Christ what are these things? They look like the bastard offspring of Max from "Where the Wild Things Are" and the Xenomorph from Alien.

 Their parents said no, but their hearts said yes.

Now this one isn't blatantly creepy, at first glance it's just some red head sitting in a bathtub in a room whiter than the annual Albino Nascar convention. That is, until you get to her eyes. Man alive, those are some huge peepers, they don't belong on a human face, they belong atop a tower somewhere in the depths of Mordor.

You know how things are often scarier in the dark than they are in the light? Noises, shadows, black people etc.Well not so much for these things. I think I may actually be afraid of the light now. Also making them act like cats isn't doing anything to make them less terrifying.

Hooray for date rape!

I've heard of chain-mail, but chin-mail? Yes, that was a pun.This is captain chinface; he's not too important, but he comes up later, so I thought I might as well bring him up. Bonus points if you can spot his friends the effeminate umpire  and shirtless man 1-38.

It

Now this is what we've come to expect from Lady Gaga, this shot alone is even creepier than what passes for most horror movies. In this scene Lady Gaga is in a cage  perhaps counting the number of sane things she's done this year. Note the weird spine bumps and horrifying pig face head protrusion almost screaming "KILL ME". Ahh, classic Gaga.

It still beats DJ Hero.

Little known fact Lady Gaga released a video game in Europe in 2008. It was just a continuous loop of "Bad Romance" and a microphone. You'd get one point everytime you shouted "What the FUCK!!!" into the microphone. This is a screen shot 30 seconds into the game.

Assuming each one of those is a blood diamond, that's roughly the population of Zaire, Lady Gaga is dancing in.

Meh, of all the crazy ass things that Lady Gaga has tried to wear as clothes, a model of the solar system is pretty tame. Honest to god this may be the most functional piece of clothing in her entire wardrobe. Which includes such lovies as...
- Cancer Goggles
-  A Ze. That's a zebra without a bra! Heeeey-o.
- 3 Black Guys and a Wheelchair.

All this stuff was found in a box marked "Evening Wear". Even the black guys.

 What's a music video without animal cruelty? It was a live polar bear at the beginning of the video shoot, but it took its own life the third hour in. To keep her dancers from doing the same, Lady Gaga actually locks them in special chambers. They were those coffin things you saw at the beginning of the video. But yeah another wacky Gaga costume? Yawn. It looks like maybe she's used up all her crazy too early...

 

Maybe not.

AND SHE STICKS THE LANDING! Now, this is the kind of top quality hi-octane liquid crazy we expect! I've not even going to make a joke about this one, that's how off the charts nutso this scene is.

PS: Didja recognize Captain Chinface over there?

Well there you have it folks, a fitting end to my 10th blogiversary spectacular bonanzathon! Hopefully I'll be around for another ten posts, but don't take my word on that. So until next time this is me signing off.

Blog post nine, feelin' fine.

What's up my amazon tree blogs? How is it going? So late last night I was minding my own business, sitting in my laboratory shaving rats to resell as naked mole rats when one of my friends sends me this Youtube clip. If you can't see that it doesn't matter as the clip it self isn't important. It was just some Japanese game show thing where teenage Japanese girls were being attacked by tentacl lost their shit after meeting the guy who played Harry Potter in that series of movies whose name escapes me right now. Now why would I bother to mention this on my blog to its many reader? (No, I didn't forget an s) Because I feel a great injustice has occurred, something that so heinous that to do nothing about it would cause Martin Luther King to spin in his grave, so quickly in fact that he would probably explode out of his coffin and go drilling toward the Earth's core. I am of course talking about why I haven't yet appeared on any Japanese TV show.

Did I do something to offend you, Japan? I thought we all squared up during our last encounter. I agreed to reseal Godzilla in the ocean floor and you promised to delay production on your creepy disgusting pornography. I see absolutely no reason as to why I would be snubbed to appear on a Japanese Game Show. I mean I'm certainly crazy enough to eat a pound of wasabi and people dressed like Stalin club me with live dolphins (this is their version of Jeopardy). Are you afraid I'd go all Ken Jennings on your country and win every game show for all time? Because if so I could easily throw a couple of games.

Perhaps you just didn't know how I felt on the subject. Well hopefully this clears everything up Japan and hopefully you , my blog readers, will be able to see me  next week on SUPER HAPPY BONANZA-THON KAWAII CHALLENGE 2010 (their version of the Price is Right). I should probably get some practice in though, it's been ages since I last pole-vaulted a donkey. Well until next time, this is me signing off and remember one should never strike a lady..... with a closed fist.

Don't worry I haven't left you.....yet.

Hey what's up my British Bull blogs,
It's me and I'm back and recharged after my four day hiatus. Did ya miss me? Well don't you worry because I'd never leave you guys. At least not because taking everything pawnable in the house and adopting a new identity as Tito Jimenez, an ordinary day labourer by day, but when the night falls he dons his uniform and  becomes... a night labourer.  So what's been in the news lately. There doesn't seem to be anything too interesting, earthquake this, senate that, blahblahblah. So I guess I'll make up some news:

"Moon revealed to be eyeball of god; tells mankind to stop landing crap on it as it really stings"

"North Korea struggles to reach new level of bat-shit insanity; considers making new national currency the skin that pudding gets when you leave it out too long"

"Barack Obama rebuilds nation's economy while doing triple backflip on tiger. PICS INSIDE."

Now those are some headlines worth checking out . I figure with news that good, you could even keep the Newspaper industry afloat for at least another couple of years; not that they deserve it. They brought this on themselves. They failed to heed the market warnings, failed to reinvent themselves for the twenty first century. So now they're obsolete and dying off; it serves then right. Although to be fair it's not they ever stood a chance of winning against the internet in any way.Online the news is fresher, the comics are funnier and the opinions are even more bat-shit insane. It's survival of the fittest and the newspaper industry is the gazelle born with 3 legs. However, fortunately for the newspapers, like the panda bear they too have just barely managed to dodge the  falling hammer of  Darwin by still having some uses which include:

- Wrapping things
- Lining the bottoms of things
- Cleaning up large spills
- That magic trick where you pour a litre of water into a newspaper cone and it disappears.
- Paper Mache
- Remembering what day it is
- Avoiding eye contact on the bus
- Looking nonchalant
- Swatting flies and disobedient pets
- Hobo Blankets
- Hobo Urinals

Well that's all for now, and remember until next time. It's not murder if you just cut off their hand. Toodles :)

Tonight on a very special blog post....

Hello my fellow blog cabins,
Hows it going? Recently (read:5 minutes ago) I started seriously thinking about end-of-life organ donations, then cat videos, then cat food, then liverwurst and finally back to organ transplants. In the future I probably shouldn't collect my thoughts while you-tubing. Anyways, from everything I've heard and read about organ donation over the years, it seems almost wrong not to be one and "you're talking to someone with very loose definitions of right and wrong here", he said, loading the stolen Girl Scout cookies onto the truck. It's not like you're not losing anything (being dead and all) and just by filling out a few forms, you could save/drastically improve another person's life.

But still despite the logical nature of organ donation there still exists a squeamishness to it all that I just can't shake.  I've tried to pinpoint it to some aspect in particular, but it still eludes me . It's not the image of someone removing my organs, I'll be dead and be too busy roasting on a spit over a cauldron of flames to notice some guy helping himself to my reasonable condition you-could-probably-buff-out-the-dings kidneys. Maybe the opposite even, the idea that as I'm lying in the ground stone cold dead, that my heart will be alive beating somewhere else in someone else, is  a strangely comforting notion.

I suppose its the general thought of death that spooks all of us. Giving away your organs can be seen as bowing out of the "life" race. It is both the recognition and preparation for death, kind of like making a buying a coffin, but squishier. Once they remove your organs, you're gone and never coming back. It's exactly that sort of never-go-back decision that leads to the what-ifs, like what if I had gotten better, done a complete 180 and lived another good 5 years. It's normal to think like that, it's human nature to want to keep on living. But it's not reality. You know they (the people in charge of removing your organs: doctors, Korean gangsters you owe money to etc.) wouldn't be taking your organs, if they thought for a second, you still might make it. It's not some willy-nilly decision they throw a dart at a board to decide. They're also not just going to give away your organs to the first person that asks, your liver won't just be handed to the first guy that stumbles into the ICU with a half-empty bottle of Jäeger in each hand. Like I said before these are professionals, it's their job to ensure that your donation is given to the most appropriate/deserving candidate.

Here is where I originally planned to write some maudlin anecdote about an imaginary guy dying of organ failure, and how only you could save him. But I've decided not to. Why? Because as I said before organ donation should be a logical decision,  and arguing for it by trying to sway emotions seems absurdly hypocritical. So instead dear reader I will just leave you with this with this link.


PS: To counteract the odd seriousness of this article. CAT VIDEOS!
PPS: The reason I didn't touch on live organ donations ie) giving someone part of your liver or one of your lungs is because that's a whole other can of worms.

Posting from school.

Hello my fellow Blogdors,
How are things? Me, I'm really sleepy for some reason. Really, really slee-zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Wha? Huh? What's going on? Where am I? Who drooled all over my keyboard? But in all truth, I am really tired here.I don't even know why. I got my 8 hours of solid sleep last night and I'm not doing anything particularly exhaustive. The only thing I can think of is it may have something to do with the chocolate milk I had earlier. It was good milk I tell you, albeit insanely overpriced. Seriously, two dollars for a tiny carton of chocolate milk? You've pissed off the wrong man, Dairy Industry, the wrong man. Well I'd post more, but I have go find out where you can buy fake polyurethane cows and hand grenades. So until next time this is me signing off. .

PS: Hand grenade is kind of a redundancy don't you think? I mean I don't think they make grenades for any other part of your body.

PPS: I'd suggest hoarding milk and dairy products, I have a feeling they may grow increasingly scarce sometime in the near future.

Blogpost Numero 5? How do you say 5 in Spanish? El Fiveo? Yeah, that sounds right.

Hello my fellow bloglodites,
These last few days have been dull as fuck, the Olympics are over the slow monotony of daily routine is slowly creeping back into existence, making it self more known when each painfully slow second that passes like a really bad silent fart .Soooo, what's been in the news lately? That Chile quake has has its share of the headlines, the devastation suffered by that poor South American country, must make for a good read. But quite frankly I can't seem make my self care. It is because I'm a bad person? Maybe. But when I see articles on the Chile quake I don't want to read them,and the pictures of the people suffering? I don't wanna see them. I'm just really really apathetic ( I think I may have used up all my humanity points during the Haiti Quake). I guess that answers the "Am I a bad person" question. Oh, well what are ya gonna do?

Despite my willful and blissful ignorance I have managed to catch one neat factoid about the Chile quake: that the earthquake was so powerful it actually shifted the poles of the Earth by about 8 whole cm. But what effect does that have on us? Our days will be 1.04 microseconds shorter. Really? Damn.That was so close to being interesting. So close.


PS:The Chile Quake also sounds like some awful main course served in one of those Mexican restaurants that are also part something else ie) Paco's Mexicana Restaurante and Printer Ink Cartridge Refilling