Hiatus

I know I haven’t been around quite as much as usually lately, and that’s partially because I’ve been working on other things.

And, with that in mind, I’ve decided that for the time being, I will be placing Funny In Shadows on indefinite hiatus. I’m going to take an unknown amount of time to pursue some other artist areas, and broaden my range alittle. I’ve got a bunch of projects and ideas swirling around, and I’m also going to try to come up with some new, exciting ideas and challenge myself as an artist.

I’ve recently started an official WordPress blog for my short stories and poetry, which I’d urge all of you to check out. It’s called Disassemble The Universe and it’s got all my written works up. They are of a much more serious nature for the most part, but I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished with them in the last year or so.

I’d like to take one last moment to thank all of you who read my ramblings and rants when they come up and throw down comments. I appreacite it and I hope to return to this in the future with new vigor and hillarious new content. Comedy is still number one in my heart, and very dear to me.

For those of you who’d still like to hear jokes and shit, I occasionally update my Twitter with tiny tidbits and rants, and you can certainly follow me or check it out here.

With that said, I bid you all farewell for awhile. If you need anything, just drop a comment here or e-mail me at reinhard_bob@yahoo.com and I’ll respond.

Teh Clown: OUT!

Why Are You HERE, When You Should Be…

HERE!

I usually use this space to complain and rant about stuff. But today, a simple link. And one you six or so fine folks that actually read my blog should go to. If you don’t, I’ll… well, I probably won’t do anything, but that shouldn’t stop you from going.

That is all. I shall return tomorrow with more bitterness and anger for your enjoyment.

Did Darwin Have A Theory On De-Evolution?

Compliments of Merriam-Webster

Fast: Characterized by quick motion, operation, or effect:

1) moving or able to move rapidly, swift
2) taking a comparatively short time
3) imparting quickness of motion
4) accomplished quickly
5) agile of mind

Could someone please send that definition to the makers of the “Fast Lane” self-checkout lane at Cub Foods grocery store, and it’s users if possible.

I’ve never been so astonished by human stupidity as I have been while watching people attempt to figure out the self-checkout lane. For those of you who haven’t witnessed these things in action, allow me to give you a brief summary.

Looks like some Star Trek shit, don’t it? It’s actually a fairly simple device. You follow the on-screen prompts, scan your stuff, bag it, pay and get the fuck out. Or so I thought. Apparently, what you really do is stare blankly at the screen and ponder each decision as if the wrong choice could activate a nuclear countdown and kill off the human population.

And it doesn’t even take a small amount of intellect to use one of these. In fact, you don’t even really need to be literate. It TALKS to you. Got that? It fucking walks you through it like a life coach. “Please scan your first item”. That means: Please scan your first item. “Please take your change”. That means: please take your change. It doesn’t get too much more clear-cut than that.

And if people telling you what to do is still too complicated, they also show you PICTURES! They give you moving pictures that SHOW you what to do. Now you don’t even have to comprehend speech, you just have to imitate what’s happening in front of you. Monkeys can do that, mother fucker, why can’t YOU grasp it?!

I spent twenty five minutes waiting in line to use one of these things the other day. There were FOUR of them, and each one was taken up by people who, frankly put, I’m surprised were even able to dress themselves that morning let alone get to the grocery store. And I got to watch as my fellow human beings de-evolved right before my very eyes.

As if I needed any more proof than this, allow me to tell you of a few more instances of human stupidity that are proving my point that we’re moving in the wrong direction in the evolutionary pathway.

1) “A Drunk” made it’s triumphant return to my life! – That’s right, it’s BACK! I sat in the exact same seat on the exact same bus and witnessed the exact same dumb-ass carving. At least I hope it’s the same one. I really hope someone didn’t repeat this process on yet another bus. As I stared at it AGAIN, I began to wonder if I was stuck in some kind of endless Groundhog Day-esque loop of suffering. As if I was being tested.

“Alright, Bob, we’re going to re-expose you to something that almost lead to a mental breakdown last time, and we’re going to see if you can keep from stabbing out both your eyes the second time.”

I can assure you I did, but it took a lot out of me. So I figured, why not wander the skyways in Downtown Minneapolis to cool my head a bit? Unfortunately, that’s where I witnessed case number two.

2) GUY Guys - Now, when you sit down to watch a television show or movie, you often see a stereotypical type of man: The horny perverted brainless slug type. You know the ones. The ones that drop onto bar stools and drop stupid pickup lines. The ones that say things such as “CHECK OUT THE TITS ON HER!” to complete strangers. The real die-hard jerk-off pigs. Did you know they actually exist? And they’re far worse than their fictional counterparts.

I had the unfortunate luck of being stuck behind two of these wonderful upstanding citizens as I walked. First and foremost: They were disgusting to look at. Fat, hairy, uncleaned, poorly dressed. They were pigs, without a doubt. And to make things worse, EVERY time a woman with a decent body walked by, they, as if their heads were attached to her ass via string, would turn IN UNISON and check out her ass as she walked away. I emphasis the concept of “In Unison”. It’s as if they were one. They moved as one. They widened their eyes as one.

Could they get more annoying? Sure they could. One of them could WHISTLE at a girl.

WHISTLE! I thought that was a myth. I didn’t think men actually did that to attractive women. I thought it was all made up. Nope. The guy whistled at a girl.

And to make matters worse, bozo numero dos decided to swing back with an even less classy response to his friends audible dumbassedness.

“That wasn’t me, honey. I would never treat a pretty lady such as yourself like that.”

Yes you would. But you figured if you pull out the “nice guy” approach, you’d… what, get a blowjob right there on the escalator? I didn’t see the girls face, but I could actually FEEL her eyes rolling from where I was walking.

I couldn’t take much more, so I cut my loses and got onto the second bus to make my way home. I could make it home without anything else terrible happening, right?

You know by now this is not the case. Wish I would have known that before getting on the second bus. ’cause if I knew what I’d witness 30 blocks later, I’d have thrown myself UNDER the bus instead of getting inside it.

3) Mr. Sag E. Pants - Who’s that coming up the aisle towards me? Why yes, it’s Mr. Sag E. Pants. And boy are his pants a-saggin’. So much so, that he is actually HUNCHED OVER holding the waistband of his pants somewhere around the gray area between his shins and knees. It looked as if he actually froze in time JUST as he was starting to pull them up. And he was WALKING like this. Either he was in-transit mooning the bus driver, or he was taking a dump on the go. That, or he’s a moron. I’m leaning towards the latter myself, how ’bout you?

I’ve never understood the pants-sagging clothing fad. I can understand if the pants sag A LITTLE, but down to the tops of your fucking FEET?! And in the dead of winter, no less. Why not just fuckin’ go pants-less? It’d save you a ton of trouble.

Now, as I think about this, I think about one of the worst things I’ve ever witnessed. And yes, I will share it with you, but I’m going to give you a moment to prepare. Consider this a warning. What I am about to show you could damage you greatly. If you are in an area without a vomit-recepticle, may I suggest getting a bucket handy before moving to the next piece of this blog.

Are you good? Alright, let’s continue shall we.

Someone once informed me about pants actually manufactured to appear sagging. Here is a picture, in case you don’t believe me.

That’s pretty bad, ain’t it? Don’t worry, I wouldn’t put it up if I couldn’t make it even worse. If you’re still with me, let’s take a look at the FRONT of these beauties.

Well, that’s just plain ol’ hideous, ain’t it. I’d wear them, if I didn’t have ANY sense at all. I mean NONE. Not ONE inkling of sense in my whole being.

It did get worse, however. Apparently, out there somewhere, there are also pants that exist with BOXER SHORTS stitched to the waste. So basically, it’s boxers, then pants, all in one. I luckily can’t seem to find a picture to back this up, so maybe it was only made up by the demons in my head. Oh, and if you do find a picture: Please do NOT feel free to send me the picture. I don’t want to see it. I can’t take it. It’ll destroy me.

One good thing DID come from this though. It made it so I don’t feel AS bad about the High Heeled Sneakers.

So let’s keep the ball rolling with a news story that struck my eye. About the latest in technological advancement. I’m of course talking about the ROBOT GIRLFRIEND!

That’s right, the Roxxxy Sex Robot is here! Too late for Christmas, perhaps, but just in time for Valentine’s Day! No more shall you be lonely on Valentine’s Day when you have THIS pretty lady at your disposal:

Sure, I’d hit that. Or flee from it in terror, not sure yet.

That, by the way, is the creator who is fondly adjusting her head. You’d never guess he was the type to invent a robot sex slave, would you? He doesn’t look like a creeper at all.

These are all just cases that are slowly draining my faith in mankind. As if I had much faith left to sap out of me to begin with. I do believe, however, that it helps push my case that the human race is actually de-evolving.

We’ve already seen it in speech. Back in Elizabethan times, we spoke with such elegance and word-variety. As it kept going, as we reached America, our language began to slowly get filled with contractions, shorter words, and slang.

Then we reached the internet age. As we began “web speak”, new, shortened versions of words came into practice. “Ur” replaced “Your”. “Thx” replaced “Thanks”. “Rly” replaced “Really”.

Then came the abbreviations. LOL. IDK. TY. They came in waves, more and more as years progressed.

Then we got to the text-message stage. These became over-used. No longer were there a few of them, we basically ended up with abbreviations or shortened words for almost EVERYTHING that could be said.

We even got to the point where people started saying them OUT LOUD. I’ve heard, on more than one occasion, someone say “LOL” out loud. It hurt my ears. I, of course, told them to STFU!

This is really only one step away from caveman speak again. Communicating with grunts and roars. We will start dying off in droves because we can’t understand that “OOO GAH GRRR” means “Look out, you’re about to be hit by a garbage truck!”

The human species is going to de-evolve itself out of existence. And I, for one, say good riddance.

Or is that “GR”?

True Terror Can Eat Your Penis…

If I were to say killer condoms, what would your reaction be? Would it strike fear into your soul? Perhaps you’d laugh yourself to cardiac arrest? Or maybe, just maybe, a delightful mix of both? I, of course, fell into the third one. Gut-deep laughs mixed with terror. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t afraid of ACTUAL killer condoms. I was more or less just afraid that someone thought it up.

And made a movie about it. Appropriately titled “Killer Condom: The Rubber That Rubs You Out”

For those of you who are afraid to click the link, allow me to show you the wonderfully executed cover-art for such a fantastic Academy Award worthy flick:

It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I actually watched a clip of this film on the good ol’ YouTube. And I must say: It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I shall share it with you now:

As you can see, it’s in German. Because German’s are fucking out of their mind. I’m really surprised it wasn’t a Nazi Condom. Which, now that I think of it, would be an even more fantastic film. Sure, it could only bite off uncircumsized penis’. Penises. Peni? What the fuck is the plural of penis?! Nevermind, that isn’t important right now. What IS important is that this piece of film magic was actually based on a German Comic book. A comic book. We have Spider Man and The Green Lantern. Germany has Killer Condoms. And we wonder why they’re consistently bat-shit crazy.

I know what you’re wondering: How, Bob, did you manage to stumble upon Killer Condom? It was just one of the many, many B-Rate Campy horror flicks me and “Teh Co-worker” Stumbled upon during a bored-at-work inspired amazon.com trip. This was the same mentality that brought forth the discovery of muskrat eating.

So, I suppose you now know where this is going. I’m going to share with you some of the other stunning movies we discovered. Starting with one of my personal favorites: Monsturd.

That’s right, folks. You can gather from that terrible pun what this ones about. It’s about a killer pile of shit. Granted, as funny as I found this, I was also kinda pissed. It would seem they stole this idea from my own personal experience with a Monsturd.

“Don’t get caught with your pants down”

What a fantastic tag line for a movie. How could it possibly be a total pile of shit. Oh wait, that’s what they intended it to be. Now how the hell are you supposed to review a movie that actually aims to be a pile of shit?!

A fantastic movie, that apparently merited a sequel. With an equally amazing pun-title. I’m talking about Retardead, of course!

“They’re not so special anymore” Really, I beg to differ. This does, of course, raise two very important questions:

1) HOW is this a sequel to Monsturd? It must be a “spiritual successor” or something. I mean, I really hope they’re not implying that the mentally handicapped have shit-for-brains or something.

And the other question:

2) How do you tell the different between a mentally handicapped fellow and a zombie? I mean, really?

“No! Another zombie!”

“No, that’s just Cindy.”

“But… she’s grunting and drooling on herself and trying to eat her own hand!”

“…yeah, that’s Cindy alright…”

You’d figure an idea so terrible and quite a bit offensive is a one-of-a-kind thing, right? Would you believe me if I said you’re DEAD wrong. Hah, get it. DEAD wrong. ’cause they’re zombies and… Nevermind. Anyway, you are wrong. Because we also have the fine film Special Dead.

Yes, that is indeed a wheelchair bound dude with a chainsaw. How could that NOT be awesome?! That’s like a drive-by chainsawing! Of ZOMBIES! Let’s get a taste of the plot, shall we?

“When a zombie plague infects Camp Special Dude, a dude ranch for the mentally handicapped, a ragtag band of campers and counselors struggles to survive the night. Led by the indifferent, nunchuck-wielding head counselor, Mac, and his wheelchair-bound sister Dale, the unlikely heroes fight their way off the mountain as, one by one, they’re picked off and join the ranks of the walking dead. It’s a campy stampede of blood, boobs and gore as some “very special” people show that they can kick some serious undead ass.”

I highlighted my favorite parts of the summary. Almost just highlighted the whole thing, but figured I’d make an effort to pick out some stuff. Such as the nunchuck-weilding, or the girl named “Dale”. Oh yeah, and “Camp Special Dude”. That’s fantastic. I’m just not clever enough to come up with THAT offensive of a name for a summer camp for handicapped people. You can’t fake that kind of artistic mastery.

Now, if horribly mean-spirited movies about zombie retards are too offensive for you, perhaps you’d prefer Sars Wars: Bangkok Zombie Crisis.

Now, this one is apparently MEANT to be a comedy. It does, however, list some of the best stuff about movies in general.

“This movie has it all! Hot schoolgirls wielding axes? Check! Zombie babies? Check! Giant zombie snake? Check! Zombie ravers? You betcha!”

Sounds about right to me. Do they have this one on Blu-Ray by any chance?

Now, I could go on all day with some of the best of the worst, but alas, that would take an entire blogsite of it’s very own. I will, however, list a few of my other favorite titles.

- Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead
-The Gingerdead Man Staring none other than Grade A Actor Mr. Gary Busey as a killer gingerbread man cookie.
-Evil Bong. Tommy Chong’s greatest achievement in film making. Which isn’t saying an awful lot, but still.
-Rabid Grannies. Which sounds totally fuckin’ awesome. Who doesn’t want to see killer grandmothers eating children?!
-Coons: Night Of the Bandits of the Night. Which not only has my favorite cover of any of these movies, but also my favorite title. I mean, come on. The use of the word “night” twice, is fuckin’ hillarious.
-Surf Nazis Must Die! Which isn’t a horror movie, but a postapocalyptic movie about neo-nazis in turf wars over beach property, and the crazed revenge-driven gun-totting old lady who is seeking revenge on them.
-ThanksKILLING. Which has, without a doubt, the best tagline of any of these movies. “The Ultimate Low Budget Experience”. That’s right, folks. It actually says RIGHT ON THE COVER that it’s a cheap piece of crap. It’s really hard to argue with something that spectacularly straight-forward.

I could seriously go on all day. And it’d be hilarious. But I must stop myself before I become a zombie-blogger. Which, now that the idea has been typed up, I believe will show up on movie-store shelves within the next month or so. And I’ll shiver with pride ’cause I’ll know it was MY idea.

Since we’re talking about my ideas. Let’s talk about the next big project I shall someday start. I have decided, after all the fun of searching these shitty movies, that I will begin my own campy, B-rate low-budget piece of crap. Currently, the idea is to make a funny spoof on shitty low-budget movies. My working idea is about a killer sandwich, or if need be, a killer kitchen. The movies tentative title is “Pastrami on DIE!”. Who knows if I’ll ever actually start working on this, but it’s an idea I really would like to roll with. The writing process will take awhile, ’cause I’m lazy. But someday this will be done. I’ll keep you guys posted on it, I suppose. Otherwise, you at least have Killer Condom and Monsturd to take up your time until my project is done.

Read MY Mind, Fuckers!

The airports want to read your minds. Don’t believe me? Look Here.

That’s right, they’re working on introducing new technology that can actually read you like a book.

Here’s their scenario, to try and win you over:

“A would-be terrorist tries to board a plane, bent on mass murder. As he walks through a security checkpoint, fidgeting and glancing around, a network of high-tech machines analyzes his body language and reads his mind.

Screeners pull him aside.

Tragedy is averted.”

He’s fidgeting and looking around, and the scanners read him as a terrorist. What if he’s just going off to Hawaii to cheat on his wife? What if he’s nervous because he’s on a business trip and heading towards a big client meeting? What if he just really has to take a crap and is worried that his “Wide Stance” may confuse homosexual bathroom perverts into thinking he wants to ass-fuck? Or perhaps he just DID get ass-fucked, and he’s worried about AIDs? All of these things are very possible. Probably far the fuck more possible than an actual terrorist attack.

Also, the machine doesn’t “read his mind” anymore than Casino security cameras do. They just pick up on body language. That is NOT mind reading. The fact they have to use the term “Mind-Reading” when they’re promoting this, is because they want it to sound more amazing than it actually is. Casinos have been using this shit for years, it’s nothing new. The fact that we’re just now applying this to something that actually friggin’ matters is a sad thing indeed.

Now comes the next problem. What if you pull someone aside, can you prosecute them for NOT doing something that they were going to do? What’s next, arresting me for THINKING about murdering our President? If I can’t kill Obama in my own HEAD, what else is there?

I assume they would then search Mr. Sweaty McFidgit and find bombs and knives and shit. Stuff that normal security supposedly already finds. Hint Hint, Wink Wink, Nudge Nudge. This really makes me doubt that our current systems work, if they have to resort to Star Trek-style shit to get the job done. Way to fuck up the whole “Faith in Airport Security” thing.

“As far-fetched as that sounds, systems that aim to get inside an evildoer’s head are among the proposals floated by security experts thinking beyond the X-ray machines and metal detectors used on millions of passengers and bags each year.”

Evildoer’s? Did George W. Bush write this article? Who the fuck actually uses the term “Evildoer” in a serious article? Now I KNOW this is just a science-fiction piece. Evildoer? Terrorism is a little bit beyond “Evil-doing”. Unless you’re putting this machine to work just to catch The Joker, you aren’t looking to stop “Evildoer’s”

This is apparently what Obama (who I can’t even THINK of killing now) had to say about the whole thing: “In the never-ending race to protect our country, we have to stay one step ahead of a nimble adversary.”

We’re not playing tag asshole, we’re preventing terrorists. And if you can’t stay one step ahead of someone with 50 pounds of explosives strapped to their chest, you’re a lazy fuck. Which I guess, ultimately, describes America just dandy. Now that I think of it that way, that’s the smartest thing Obama has ever said.

It gets worse from here, however:

“The ideas that have been offered by security experts for staying one step ahead include highly sophisticated sensors, more intensive interrogations of travelers by screeners trained in human behavior, and a lifting of the U.S. prohibitions against profiling.”

Fantastic idea. Let’s make racism part of our security system again. Racism is the most effective means of security. However, it also tempts me, as a regular ol’ fashion cracker, to go and blow up a plane. I won’t. But the thought is there. Of course, you already knew that ’cause of your mind-reading machine. Fucking idiots. You just want an excuse for racism to be ok again.

They actually tell you WHY they’re for profiling later in the article.

“Some argue that policies against profiling undermine security.

We call these people “Bigots”.

Baum, who is also managing director of Green Light Limited, a London-based aviation security company, agrees profiling based on race and religion is counterproductive and should be avoided. But he argues that a reluctance to distinguish travelers on other grounds — such as their general appearance or their mannerisms — is not only foolhardy but dangerous.

General appearance? You mean “Well, that guy appears to be brown…”

‘When you see a typical family — dressed like a family, acts like a family, interacts with each other like a family … when their passport details match — then let’s get them through,’ he said. ‘Stop wasting time that would be much better spent screening the people that we’ve got more concerns about.’

When I see a family like that, I think: Family of Terrorists. Terrorists aren’t stupid. If that’s how you’re going to play it, they’ll pretend to be normal families. We always assume they’re idiots and psychopaths, but they’re actually smart people. Don’t let American arrogance get the best of you, dammit.

U.S. authorities prohibit profiling of passengers based on ethnicity, religion or national origin. Current procedures call for travelers to be randomly pulled out of line for further screening.

Scrutinizing 80-year-old grandmothers or students because they might be carrying school scissors can defy common sense, Baum said.

Oh, Baum, you defy common sense. How about we STOP random screening? It’s pointless anyway.

“We need to use the human brain — which is the best technology of them all,” he said.

False. Toasters are better technology than the human brain. The human brain is the WORST technology of them all. The human brain is what thought up racism and terrorism in the first place. It’s also biased. Machines aren’t. You want proof the human brain sucks? Just listen to yourself TALK Mr. Baum. That’s the human brain at work, you contradictory idiot.

I may need to go lie down. That’s a lot of stupid for one man to process. Let me take a breather and get my thoughts on this together. This may take awhile…

They continue with some of their other ideas. Most of which make sense, I suppose. Like the mind reading.

“The aim of one company that blends high technology and behavioral psychology is hinted at in its name, WeCU — as in ‘We See You.’ “

Don’t get cute with me, shithead. “WeCU” Really? I’m going to trust someone with my security when they have to rely on a fuckin’ PUN for their company name? That kind of name pun is peachy if you’re running a toy store or a fast food restaurant. You’re running a national security company? Time to get serious. How about calling your company “Don’t Even Fuckin’ Try It Technologies”. Bet no one will fuck with you then.

The thing that worries me is, a lot of this is based on airport security in Israel. Because when I think safety, I think a country littered with human-bomb caused pot holes. You aren’t even safe outside on the streets in Israel.

But apparently, they have the most secure airports in the world according to the article. How the fuck did we let that happen?! How is it that America leads in all sorts of different areas, but Israel kicks our ass when it comes to something important like “Not being Killed”.

They finish the article strong, with a calling for privatization of airport security. Take it out of the hands of the Government, and put it in the hands of a private company. Like Mac! Sure, why not. Introduce the new “iSeeThatBombInYourShoes.”.

“Especially since 9/11, the trend has been toward standardizing security procedures to ensure all airports follow the best practices. But Harper argues that decentralizing the responsibility would result in a mix of approaches — thereby making it harder for terrorists to use a single template in planning attacks. “

Wow, it took us this long to figure that one out? Are we beginning to give the terrorists some fuckin’ CREDIT?! I know we aren’t supposed to like them, but we can’t assume they’re fucking idiots either. Ever watched a news report about terrorists? It makes you feel like a dumbass, doesn’t it? They know more about America than we do, and that’s really sad. Our kids don’t know anything, and they grow up to be idiots. Then they get jobs as Airport Security, and spend the rest of their lives finger-fucking business men and college students hiding pot from Amsterdam in their colon.

The thing is, airport security isn’t as important as people make it sound. Take a look at these figures.

If you’d like to read the actual article, just go Here.

I do think I’d take those chances. Perhaps our security is just fuckin’ fine the way it is. We don’t need to waste more tax money on crazy technology.

One last hilarious article before I wrap this up. according to The Guardian, “New scanners break child porn laws” . I couldn’t have thought up something more funny than that if I tried. Airport security perverts! Checkin’ out children with your x-ray machines. That’s just wrong. But you never know, those kids may be terrorists.

Anyway, I think that about wraps it up. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go make sure the CIA knows where to pick me up for writing about killing the President. I wouldn’t ACTUALLY kill him. But apparently just thinking it is enough these days.

See you guys in a year when I get let out of Prison. Unless you’re that college student with the pot I mentioned earlier, in which case you’ll be in prison for the next 300 years. Because we know how to keep this country secure. Hint Hint, Wink Wink, Nudge Nudge.

The Complaint Department: Volume 2

I would like to file a complaint against…

-Giant Belt Buckles – If I can see your belt buckle clearly from across the street, you might want to stay on that side of the street. ’cause if you’re on this side with me, I’ll throw you in front of a Jeep. You’re not a cowboy, you’re a douchebag.

I would like to file a complaint against…

-The “American Pie” Brand Name – What is it, up to 3, 4 straight-to-dvd spin-off movies based on this series? Does anyone watch these?! I’m pretty sure it’s impossible for a movie franchise to have gone more insane than this one. They’re basically softcore pornography at this point, and not even GOOD softcore pornography. In fact, porn usually has a better plot and better acting. Eugene Levy still stars in these movies, that’s what makes me sad. Can you believe that? And I thought “The Man” with Samuel L. Jackson was the worst thing he’d do. Little did I know… These movies make me lose faith in humanity (but what doesn’t?).

I would like to file a complaint against…

-Marshmallows In Hot Chocolate – I know I’m going to get grief for this one, but it’s not something I can sit by and allow anymore. Way too many people like this, and it’s gotten out of hand. I’ll tell you why it’s not a good idea. It makes the marshmallows soggy. And when has “soggy” ever been a desired quality in food? Never. How the hell is it acceptable here. You want hot chocolate? Drink hot chocolate. You want marshmallows? Eat fuckin’ marshmallows.

I would like to file a complaint against…

-The “Geek Squad” – Pretentious bastards, I hope your families are in weather disasters. Your mom deserves to be lifted up by a tornado and flung thirty miles away to be impaled on a fence post. I don’t want her to die, I just want her to spend the rest of her life with a pierced uterus so she can’t pump out anymore obnoxious tech-junkies who don’t know jack shit about customer service.

I would like to file a complaint against…

-People with long names that don’t go by the shortened versions – “Hi, I’m Johnathan” “Oh, nice to meet you John” “It’s JOHNATHAN” Well, Fuck you! I don’t give a flying turd burrito what your name is now, asshole. If it’s more than two syllables, you’re kinda fucked. I’m lazy and not that interested in talking to you. Oh, and black people with unique, hard-to-remember names, for now on, your name is Frank. I don’t care if I go to a party and there are thirty of you, you’re all named Frank for now on. Doesn’t even matter what gender you are. That’s right, Shaniqua, you’re Frank too. Blame your parents for naming you something that’s hard to remember.

I would like to file a complaint against…

-Contemporary Art - I just don’t get it! “This is it, it’s my masterpiece!” It’s a giant purple foot sticking out of a toilet. Look not everything seen on funny mushrooms is beautiful and spectacular. Sometimes it’s just a giant purple foot sticking out of a toilet. Don’t try to explain what it represents either. That giant foot sticking out of the toilet does not, in any way, represent the state of American government. Unless you mean to say “My art makes no sense, and neither does the Government. See the connection?” But that’s never the case. It’s always some kind of metaphor. And you know what, I now hate metaphors because of you. And I swear, if you use feces in your art work one more time, I’m going to shit on your head.

I would like to file a complaint against…

-Anyone who describes themselves as a “Fun Drunk” – People aren’t laughing because you’re being fun and clever, they’re laughing because you just fell over for the thirteenth time like some kind of toddler. “No Bob, you don’t understand. There is something in me that only Jack Daniels can bring out!” Yeah, the contents of your stomach, and it’s all over my couch. And my cat, you bastard! Listen, unless you start vomiting up confetti, you’re not allowed to call yourself a fun drunk.

I would like to file a complaint against…

-The “Paperclip” Help Feature On Microsoft Word Processor – Get out of my head, you creepy bug-eyed office supply from hell! “Looks like you’re writing a letter!” Thanks, I wasn’t aware of that. Please leave me alone. “It looks like you’re writing a letter to the Penthouse Forums” Wow, ok, this thing is GOOD?! I think they could make it more effective and used more if they gave it a slight attitude: “Looks like you’re trying to write a letter. Unfortunately, you suck ass at it. I mean, what the fuck, dude. The person who gets that is going to think you’re a dumb ass. Let me fix that shit for you!” It would be kind of cool if he appeared in real life. “Looks like you’re trying to please a woman!” Oh man, thank God you’re here paperclip! CTRL-F. Find: “G-Spot”. Maybe that’s it. Maybe the paperclip needs to get out and get laid more. He’s always at work. We need to take him out to a bar, maybe get him a nice slutty pair of scissors with big handles?

I would like to file a complaint against…

-Stevie Wonder – If only just for confusing me. “Isn’t she lovely?” How do you know, you’re fuckin’ BLIND!? Hell, Stevie Wonder didn’t even know he was BLACK until he was 27. “Stevie, you know you’re black right?” “That’s alright, everythings black to me.”

I would like to file a complaint against…

-95% Of Blogs On The Internet – I’m going to be as nice about this as possible: Most people are really fucking uninteresting. You’re probably one of them. If your blog is just a discussion of what you did today, it’s probably not worth reading. Unless you killed someone, I’m probably going to get bored hearing about your trip to Wal-Mart to buy some dog food. I don’t want to hear you tell me about a band either, because odds are your musical taste sucks. That, or you’re the LAST person to start listening to that band. “Oh man, I just discovered this great band, they’re called The Cure, you should all listen to them!” We all have already heard The Cure. And none of us like them. Oh, and if you tell me a story about your kid, I’m going to have to take your computer away. It’s bad enough I have to hear these stories in real life, but now it’s taking up my computer screen too? If you’re funny, if you’ve got something interesting to say, if you’re going to tell me an original story that has surprises and interesting aspects to it, blog away. If you’re going to tell me about how your dog eats snow, I’ll kick you in the throat.

/end

Common Sense On Ice 3: Back To Zero

It was -10 degrees outside today when I left my house. It has just now reached 1. That’s right, we made it back to NOTHING!

This following statement is going to be classified under the “No Duh” column. However, the two pieces that will follow it are going to solidify the truth of the first statement.

The statement being: IT’S FUCKING COLD!

To show HOW cold, two things happened to me today while waiting for the bus.

1) I actually fell back on my long-standing life goal of never being engulfed in flames. That’s right, I actually began thinking “Gee, I’d love to be a human bonfire right now…”. For those of you who know me, and my avid desire never to be on fire, you know this is a pretty hefty statement.

And

2) I was actually too cold to HATE!

ME! I was so cold, I couldn’t even focus my anger and hatred at people. And believe me, I was tested. There were two teens being jackasses on the streets of Minneapolis. Now, not to put labels on their race or color, but let’s just say if it was night, they’d have been invisible.

That, by the way, has nothing to do with what was wrong with them. In fact, it’s a detail I wouldn’t usually focus on. However, due to the fact that all I saw on all sides of me was the white snow, I needed to focus on something black just to keep from snapping. So I focused on an unimportant detail such as the RACE of the jackasses. The cold actually turned me into a temporary racist. I’m not proud of it, but it was my mind struggling to survive.

The real issue was, no matter how horribly loud and annoying they were being the entire bus ride and before, I just couldn’t get myself to hate them. My mind couldn’t focus my hate-rays on them. Because my mind was too busy screaming: FUCK IT’S COLD! FUCK IT’S COLD!

I’d have cried, but I’m convinced the cold virus that had moved into my body was already using my tear ducts as hockey rinks.

That entire ten minutes spent at the bus stop, all I could do was stare at my tiny trembling hands as they gripped at my delicious White Chocolate Mocha, and think to myself: “You know… second degree burns would almost be worth the warmth of pouring this on me. That, and I’d get to smell like chocolate coffee all day! Double win!”

It is never a good thing to start ASKING for it to be zero degrees outside. To actually WISH for that kind of weather. That is not healthy behaviour. That’s fucking psychotic! But that’s where the mind goes here in Minnesota. We all have lost our fucking minds.

Don’t get me wrong, I really do love Minnesota. I don’t really strive to live in another state. However, I think we should all pack our shit and move south for the winter. No one, NO ONE, should have to tolerate this shit. Not even Rosie O’Donnell. And she deserves a lot of punishment. And hey: All that extra blubber would probably keep her warm.

I, as I’ve stated before, do not have extra blubber. I am a feeble, pathetic little stick-like man-child. This weather and me do not get along. Not at all. But I survive.

For those of you who have not been a part of a Midwestern winter, you are what I can only name: A total fucking sissy. I’ve heard them, whining down south: “IT’S 35 WAAAAAAAAA!” Eat me. Eat my frozen ass with a spoon you wimp! If you can dig your car out of a six-foot snowbank in subzero temperatures when it “feels like it’s twenty below”, then maybe we’ll talk about you being a real tough guy. Until then, go curl up in your stupid fuckin’ snuggie and shut your yap!

But my Minnesota-Midwest buddies, listen up: This is not acceptable anymore. It’s time we got together. Like a beautiful Phoenix (in a snowsuit for extra warmth) and together as one we will rise up from the ashes (or sand, or salt, whatever you use to keep the three inches of ice at bay) and put an end to this lifestyle. No more do we need to include “long underwear” in our clothing inventory. No more shall we actually say “Well, you gotta dress in layers!” . We will go on STRIKE!

That’s right, I’m calling on a full-state strike. We will not go back to Minnesota until something is done. If they have to install a giant space heater in the middle of Minneapolis that makes it feel like a tropical heatwave during February, then that’s what they have to do. But we will not return until it’s AT LEAST 20. Maybe 15. But anything below double-digits just isn’t going to cut it anymore.

Is it a crazy idea? Well of course, but it’s fuckin’ cold and my brain isn’t quite thawed out yet. Sometimes you have to take things to a new extreme. And I, for one, am willing to go to those lengths.

Let’s take back all the lost time we spend trying to get the blood to flow back into our hands. Let’s take back hours spent trying to get our piece of shit Oldsmobile to turn over in the morning. Let’s take back those ugly fuckin’ hats with the ear-flaps and turn them in for a nice Fedora. Let’s make sure we never have to go through another crying spell when we hear: “Overnight lows of negative thirty”.

We deserve better.

Crime And Hot Dish

The two things the Midwest is fantastic at.

We’re great at hot dish, and we’re stunning at making crime fun and exciting. Perhaps I should provide a few pieces of proof to back up this claim. I can do that. First, we have the Tatter Tot Hot Dish.

Oh, you meant provide proof of the CRIME part. I can do that too. I have two news stories that happened recently that seriously make me love living in the middle of the country. The snowfall and sub-zero temperatures are really great at fueling sociopaths.

Let’s jump right into case number one: “Minneapolis Stabbing Allegedly Out Of Curiosity”.

That’s right, friends. Curiosity didn’t just kill the cat, it apparently also stabbed a dude. For poops and chuckles.

“A Wisconsin man is accused of stabbing a Minnesota man on Christmas because he wanted ‘to see what it felt like.’ “

Nothing like a little Wisconsinite-on-Minnesotan crime to brighten up the holidays and bring forth the Christmas cheer. You’ve got to applaud someone who’s willing to get arrested just out of wondering what it feels like to stab someone. Who HASN’T had that thought at least thirty or forty hundred times in their life? Who hasn’t wondered what it’d feel like to shank a dude in the rib cage, just for the fuck of it?

I can understand where this total nutcase is coming from. I’ve had many a thought along these same lines. I know that comes as a surprise, what with me being so together and obviously not fuck-crazy, but yes, I have had these thoughts. Thoughts such as “I wonder how close to fully engulfed in flame I could get that old lady over there” and “If I took out my cock and peed on that guy, how would he react?” and “I bet I could throw that screaming baby at LEAST thirty feet…”

The only difference between me and “Twenty-nine-year-old Nicholas Leigh Tretter of River Falls, Wis.”, is I don’t DO THIS SHIT FOR REALZIES!!!

“Prosecutors say Tretter followed the man off a Minneapolis bus Friday. As the man walked away, Tretter allegedly ran up and stabbed him from behind, continuing to stab him as he collapsed.”

And people wonder why I don’t want to ride the fuckin’ bus! As if I didn’t have enough to worry about while riding the bus. Am I sitting in a seat that was previously occupied by a crazy guy who pooped his pants? Is that guy over there with the lazy eye looking at me, or is that just the eye? Did the bus driver just spit up blood? Why am I the only white guy here? Now I have to also worry that someone is going to just up and stab me? Fantastic. Really. I’m so fuckin’ stoked to know that that is a possibility.

I don’t know about you guys, but I’m pretty much set in my beliefs that I do not wish to be stabbed. Ever. Not even curious how it feels. In fact, if I went my whole life without ever having a knife plunged into my kidney by someone, I wouldn’t even be the slightest bit disappointed. “Being Stabbed” isn’t even in the top ten thousand things I want to have happen to me in my life. It ranks just under “having a pickle shoved in my anus”. And believe me, that’s really fucking low on my list.

I love the last piece of that sentence though. “continuing to stab him as he collapsed.”. Well, at least he didn’t half ass it. What conviction! He didn’t stop at one poke, he made damn sure the job was done right. If you’re going to do something, you might as well do it well. Kudos to you, Nick, for taking it to the limit.

“The victim had a 4-to-6-inch cut on his neck as well as stab wounds to his back and left side.”

I’d like to point out the guesstimation that the medical examiner took at the size of the gash. He ballparked it. “Meh, it’s like… four, five… maybe three feet or so in length, it’s really hard to tell.”

The only thing that is disappointing, is Nick turned himself in! Come on man, if you’re going to go randomly stab someone for fun, at least make a game of it. See how long you can avoid getting arrested. See if you can frame someone for it. I was on your side, but then you pulled this shit. You fuckin’ wimp! This was the perfect crime. No motive! I’m pretty sure “Just ’cause” isn’t a motive in the minds of police. No one is going to think this was an experiment! You could have easily gotten away with it. But no, you had to “do the right thing” and “take responsibility for your actions”. How pathetic.

In summary: This is why people from Wisconsin should stay the fuck in Wisconsin.

Alright, let’s move on to our second, and even more interesting story: Minnesota Man Accused Of Threatening Teen With Sword.

Now this is my kind of story! Anytime the word “Sword” appears in a headline, you know it’s gonna be friggin’ sweet!

“A Richfield man is accused of abusing his girlfriend’s teenage son, breaking his nose and threatening to cut him open with a samurai sword.”

Yeah, that pretty much qualifies as abuse alright. I love the escalation.

-I’m going to abuse him!

-I’m going to break his nose!

-I’m going to SPLIT HIM IN HALF WITH A SWORD!

“Forty-four-year-old Craig J. Kurzawski was charged Tuesday with a felony count of making terroristic threats and a gross misdemeanor count of malicious punishment of a child.”

If anything, “terroristic threats” just about sums it up. If anything is going to strike terror into someone, it’s the prospect of being split the fuck in HALF! And “Malicious Punishment” is a pretty fuckin’ correct term too. We would have also accepted: CRAZY ASS PSYCHOPATHIC BEHAVIOR!

“The teen’s mother tells authorities Kurzawski punched the 14-year-old in the face and torso while forcing him to do push-ups, sit-ups and squats.”

Ah-HA! The plot thickens. Now excercise is involved! I knew working out was bad for you! First of all, I’d like to comment on how difficult it would probably be to do push-ups when someones hammering you in the torso. In fact, it’d probably be near impossible. I can barely do a push-up as is, let along when someone is UFCin’ my ass in the ribs while I’m doing it.

And why is he making the kid excercise with this much anger? I understand that working out is important (I guess), but is it really worth… you know… threaten to gut a kid? Actually, it’s a little known fact, but this was the same guy who helped Oprah lose all her weight. They call it the “I’ll Cut You Open And PULL The Fat Out If You Don’t Start Doing Some Fuckin’ Sit-Ups” Plan. It’s a bit wordy, but at least it’s straight-forward. And people appreciate honesty.

“She says Kurzawski also took a sword off the wall and ran it along the boy’s chest from his neck to his stomach, saying he could ‘cut (the boy) open like a dead fish.’ “

Let’s wind it back a second and look at this logically: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A SWORD ON THE WALL TO BEGIN WITH?! You know what I have on MY wall? Posters! Pictures of Family! I don’t have Medieval weaponry on display. If you collect swords, you’re already a scary person. But do the world a favor, and don’t hang the sum-bitch up where everyone can see it! Are you really expecting to show this off to friends when they come over?

“Wow, those are beautiful pictures. Is that your mother? She’s lovely. Oh, and look at the picture of the baby and the dog. And what’s this above the… Jesus fuckballs Christ is that a MANSPLITTER?!”

“A Hennepin County court official says Kurzawski did not have an attorney listed Wednesday morning. Kurzawski is due in court Wednesday afternoon.”

And isn’t it obvious why? Defense attorneys will do just about anything for money. They’ll defend rapists, they’ll defend child molesters, they’ll defend Tiger Woods. But they sure as hell are not getting involved when the word “Sword” appears on the paperwork. I think this is something that is best left up to King Arthur’s Court, not the Hennepin County court.

I couldn’t even imagine this being on the docket.

“Alright, first we have a guy who ran a red light and hit a car.”

“Easy.”

“Next, we have a man late on his child support payment”

“Easy.”

“And then we have a guy who threatened to split his girlfriends kid open with a katana”

“…A… Katana”

“Yeah, big fuck sword, your honor.”

“…I need a drink.”

Now, I don’t know a lot of things, but I do know this: If someone was pointing a sword at me, my ass is gonna be doin’ a ton of fuckin’ sit-ups! I don’t care how much it hurts, it can’t possibly suck any more than having your whole body divided in two. So, if anything, this guy was at least a decent motivator.

So there you have it. Minnesota crime at it’s finest. The only way, THE ONLY WAY, this could have been better, is if these were combined into one story.

“A local man is charged with decapitating a stranger on the express way today with a broadsword. He claims to have done it ‘Because it sounded like fun’ “

I can dream. I can fuckin’ dream.

The Priorities of Modern Man

The Future.

No one knows what it’ll hold. It could be filled with great achievements, or it could be filled with great evils and even greater disasters. Considering our track record as of late, I’m leaning towards the latter.

I know, we’ve made leaps and bounds in technology in the last few decades. We’ve cured diseases. We’ve solved many problems to up the speed and efficiency of life. We’ve also made it possible to do almost everything without thinking. A prospect which sounds lovely to most, but terrifying to me.

You don’t know what I mean? Allow me to explain. The Lexus LS series parks itself.

Got that? The car parks ITSELF! This was a big thing for about twenty three minutes a few years back, and it’s really just a drop in the bucket of things that frighten me. All the futuristic thriller sci-fi movies show robots taking over the planet. The AI gets too smart and they snap and kill us all. I’m pretty sure at the start of those movies, cars are parking themselves. At least we don’t have robots that clean up after us!

Oh, nevermind. First, it’ll sweep your floor of all the dirt. Next? It’ll clean THE WORLD of useless humans! I’m on to you vacuum robot. You little waffle-iron lookin’ mother fucker.

Now, before this sounds too cynical (like anything I ever say sounds cynical. Psh.), I’d like to say that these two things do serve a purpose. Sure, it’s lazy as hell to sit on your ass while a giant circle cleans your house, but at least that’s a purpose. Predating these two things however, was the moving sidewalk. Moving. Fuck. Sidewalk. Really, this marked the beginning of the end of us as a species. And no one seems concerned but me!

These are the obvious ones though. The ones that stick out the most. The ones everyone looks at and laughs. And then wishes they had them.

Now, the human mind has achieved many great things. We really have. But for every intelligent person, there are about thirty thousand idiots. And that ratio is being turned even more in the favor of stupidity by the people who are intelligent, but utilize it in useless ways. For now on, we’ll refer to them as Smartards.

The Smartards have taken over the world. The reason we can’t fix any real problems, make real advancements, is because of the Smartards. We don’t have those flying cars I was promised, and that pisses me the hell off.

I’m going to present now a small list of things the Smartards have given us that serve no real purpose other than to shorten our stay in this universe.

We’ll start with chewing gum. Yes, chewing gum. Originally, a simple concept. Take gum resin, and flavor it. Awesome. Helps people with oral fixations. Sweet and simple. The way it should have stayed. But no, no no, it kept going. They couldn’t stop with just flavored. That flavor had to be “Extended, Long Lasting!”. Why? Because we are too cheap to buy another pack, and we need to be chewing on something every second of every day!

That’s what gum has become. We, the nation of big-fat-fatty-fatasses has to be eating every second of every day. But if we did that, we’d explode. So, we use gum as a means to keep our mouths occupied so we don’t accidently shove your own young into our mouthes and eat them like gerbils.

But it didn’t stop there. At some point in my life, gum became a dental tool. Now it’s “Dentist Approved! Long Lasting Flavor!” gum. They’re trying to make it surpass brushing our teeth! How fucked up is that! We can’t even lift a stick up to our face and move it up and down for a few minutes!

Speaking of toothbrushes. Let’s put those on the list of things the Smartards have ruined for me. Remember what it used to be? It used to be a brush. For your teeth. That’s it. A fuckin’ brush.

Then they added that little blue strip. The one that tells you the toothbrush ain’t good no more. Because we’re too dumb to go “…wow, this thing looks sorta nasty… I should probably not stick it in my face anymore…”

You’d figure that’d be enough. But no, no no, it was NOT. How can we make brushing easier! Less energy consuming. Well, we could make them electric. And why not!

I wouldn’t put something like that in my mouth if you paid me to. It looks like it could be used for self-defense. Or rectal pleasuring. When toothbrushes begin to resemble sex toys, it’s time we dial it back a bit.

The Smartards have really spent a lot of time in your mouth, haven’t they? Well, they can continue that trend with flavored condoms. Because sexual protection needs to taste nummy.

The condom may be the single most advanced thing mankind has ever come up with. Does that scare anyone else? We’ve got spermicide, ribbed for her pleasure, extra-strength, lubricated, reservoir tipped, biodegradable, flavored condoms. And ample supplies of them. So ample that we can’t help but litter the streets with them!

Sex is something that’s real important to the Smartards. It may or may not be because most of the Smartards aren’t HAVING any sex, but that’s beside the point. The real point is… well, the real point is a giant rubber cock that is scientifically sculpted to hit your clit perfectly. That’s what the real point is.

Vibrating buttplugs? We got ‘em. Sex swings? Check. Giant devices that literally fuck you where you lay? What kind would you like?! Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a good time, but there has to come a point where we stop spending so much effort and time on getting off. I suppose I should be happy, most of these toys and the protection prevent some pregnancy, but it really is getting out of hand. “Out of hand” may or may not have been a masturbation joke.

And the good news is, if you’re too ugly to get fucked, the Smartards can help you there too. Because even medical school is now plagued with Smartards as well.

That’s right, we have plastic surgery. Sure, there is plenty of it that’s necessary. Let’s say the Vice President of the United States accidentally blasts off half your face with bird shot while hunting. Don’t worry, we can put it back on.

But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the vanity medical stuff. The botox and face lifts and implants and hip shaving and the chemical peels and the hair plugs and the laser surgeries and the liposuction and the “natural male enhancement” pills. Keep in mind we can’t cure cancer. But your tits look fabulous!

And how can we contact Miss Flawless-For-A-Price and get her over to our place so we can fuck her with the vibrating remote controlled butt plug, with out breath that is fresh from the Sonicare 2000 Super-brush and new Dentist-Approved Ultimate Toothcare bubble-yum pelting her in her chemically treated face? Easy, we use our cellphone/camera/gps tracking device/personal media and mp3 player/text messaging/internet ready device. That’s how.

Fuck cellphones. How the fuck do we think we’re ever going to stay on this planet if we keep pumping so much shit into cellphones. You know what they’re doing, right? They’re making it so our entire life can be carried on one tiny fucking handheld thing. Imagine that. A monopoly on life itself. I’m waiting for the day when cellphones actually spew out Starbucks coffee. It’ll happen. It’ll fuckin’ HAPPEN. You’d figure with all these amazing additions to portable communication, they’d actually make a phone that could fuckin’ work as a PHONE!

You know what the most used feature of a cellphone is today? Checking the time. Didn’t we used to have an article of clothing, an accesory, that did that once? Oh yeah, a watch! The Smartards figured we might as well over-haul those as well. And thank your imaginary higher power that they did! They have divers watches. Divers. Watches. Do you know what those do? Tell time UNDERWATER! Are you SHITTING ME! What the FUCK possible real life application could that have?! Divers dont need them. No diver is underwater and then goes “Oh shit, it’s almost 7 I better get out of the bottom of the ocean or I’ll miss Ugly Betty!” Alright, maybe a diver needs one so he can make sure he doesn’t run out of air or something. I guess I’ll let that slide, but…

How do you explain the regular watches that still work underwater? Are we too lazy to take it off when we shower, is that what this is? Outside of being a diver, I see no reason why you’d need to check the time when you’re under water. Unless you’re looking for an exact time of death when you drown, it seems useless to me.

And whats with the watches that have multiple different times on them. Have you seen this shit? They’re expensive too. All so you can tell what time it is where you are, and what time it is in Pango Pango. Helpful, I’m sure, if you’re The Flash.

ZOOOM!

“Shit, I’m in New Guinea now… damn, that means my watch is going to be off. Oh wait…”

Well, speaking of time. I think it’s time for me to close the book on this riff about Smartards. I’d usually end this with a plea of some sort. Trying to get them to focus on more important shit. Such as blowing up the moon or keeping my farts from ruining social interactions. But no, no no, no plea today. Instead, I’m simply going to throw my hands up on this one. The Smartards are plentiful, and they have their dicks in everything around you. They’ll be the undoing of mankind. But don’t panic. They are good for something.

They give me a lot of funny shit to bitch about!

—

Also, I’m really sorry about that picture of The Flash. It’s even more creepy than the one of Aquaman I put in my blog about
muskrats.

Food For Over-Thought (aka The Menu Mind Fuck Game)

Here’s an article for you, recently put up by the New York Times. An article about what they deem “Menu Psychology”. In other words: Restaurants are fucking with your head!

Let’s just kick right in with the opening sentence. One of which I hate with all my heart: “CHICKEN liver is what the restaurateur Danny Meyer calls a torpedo. “

First of all, “restaurateur” is the worst word ever. It’s right up there with pus and bologna. You’re a restaurant owner, not a “restaurateur”. What kind of self-righteous arrogant shit is that?! It’s just like the fact the Liberal Arts major who serves me my over-priced latte has to carry the job title “Barista”. Who the fuck knows what that means?! I sure as hell don’t, and neither does this poor fuck. How can he BE something and not know what it is at the same time?! That defies logic, and it’s all because of our need as a society to sugar-coat everything with fancy language that makes the people using it look like fuckweeds.

Not to mention, if someone goes by “Danny”, they probably shouldn’t also go by “Restaurateur”. That kind of word is held only for people who don’t shorten their names. If his name was Daniel, I may buy it. But “Danny” sounds like the name of the 16 year old pie-faced kid spitting in my onion rings at Burger King, not the name of someone running a restaurant that serves chicken liver.

“Left to its own devices, it may be unappetizing and unpopular (MAY be unappetizing and unpopular?! What makes you have that idea, is it ’cause it’s a fuckin’ ORGAN?!), but when paired with what he calls an enhancer — applewood smoked bacon in the case of the chicken liver on the menu at Tabla, Mr. Meyer’s Indian fusion restaurant in the Flatiron District — it not only excites the taste buds but goes to work on the mind.”

Why does that paragraph exist in this article? A precursor to help you get the idea of what the whole thing is about? No, it exists only to piss me off. They wrote this article with one thing in mind: Send Bob Around The Fuckin’ Corner!

Where do I even start? How about “Indian Fusion” restaurant. Do you know what that means? Right: Not real Indian food. Fusion?! That is NOT a word that is appetizing in the least. That’s a word you MAYBE use with juice: Banana-Strawberry FUSION, but even then it’s really forced and obnoxious. However, what this seems to imply is that it’s Indian food PLUS other shit. Basically, American’s are bastardizing another type of food. We’ve done it with many other types. For instance, Italian and Mexican fused to make a Mexican Pizza, which looks oddly like a taco that didn’t get folded up. American bullshit with extra cheese!

Indian Fusion is one of those trendy-terms. For pretentious indie fuckers who like to think they’re hip. These are the ones who buy clothing at thrift stores, drive hybrid cars, and sit around coffee shops silently judging (and not in the funny way like I do) everyone that is different than them. They like Wes Anderson films (which no one with actual taste does), and they enjoy Co-Op food stores. Why? Because they like paying thirteen dollars for guilt-free milk.

This same mindset is why, at the Mall of America here in Minnesota, we actually have something called an Oxygen Bar. An idea that makes me reconsider my stance on genocide.

My next complaint about that paragraph is his use of bacon. Listen, bacon is basically the reason why happiness exists. Don’t go shovin’ it into stuff that shouldn’t have it in it. Like other animals. Chicken and pig do not work together. They are meant to be eaten separately. Bacon isn’t an “enhancer” either. Viagra is an enhancer. Bacon is food, fucker. It doesn’t “enhance” anything. It just makes it taste better. Enhancer is another one of those buzz words, like fusion. It’s strong, it’s scientific. As if this was a genius idea. No, you just put bacon, which is pretty much universally loved, on top of something else. You’re not a genius for doing something that high college students have been doing for years. How about I give “Danny” a vasectomy, and “enhance” society by making sure he can’t reproduce.

The worst, however, comes right at the end: “it not only excites the taste buds but goes to work on the mind.” Holy shit! It EXCITES the taste buds. I didn’t know my taste buds could get excited. Now this whole thing is starting to sound like sex. After we use the ENHANCER, we get EXCITED. MMM, this sounds fantastic. I assume when I digest this food, it’ll be like a climax for my stomach, correct? Why not just say: Bacon, it’ll make you jizz.

Then they say that it’ll GO TO WORK on my mind. Go to work on it? What are you trying to do here? Charles Manson “went to work” on the minds of some young girls. I don’t want my food to get involved with my mind. Stomach, yes, mind, not so much. This plate of food isn’t Hannible Lecter, fucker, it’s just a damn meal!

“And the name of the Tabla appetizer, Boodie’s Chicken Liver Masala, draws even deeper from the growing field of menu psychology because Boodie is the mother of Floyd Cardoz, Tabla’s executive chef. People like the names of mothers, grandmothers and other relatives on their menus, and research shows they are much more likely to buy, say, Grandma’s zucchini cookies, burgers freshly ground at Uncle Sol’s butcher shop this morning and Aunt Phyllis’s famous wedge salad. “

Boodie? Again with the sexy talk! Come get yourself some Boodie…’s Chicken Liver Masala. So, they named it after the cook’s mother? I mean, I wouldn’t really know that just flippin’ through the menu, but alright. It’s not even important. You could name the sandwich after some hooker you fucked three weeks ago, and I’d care just as little.

“People like the names of mothers, etc.”. Do they now? Is that a selling point to you guys? If I were to name a big bag of crap “Nancy’s Bag O’ Crap”, would you be more inclined to buy it? Has your mind EVER been swayed by the inclusion of the name of someones mother? Research says though. Research says people are more likely to buy the stuff with family names on them. Isn’t that sad? Research. Who has the time to research something THAT unimportant! Advertisement people are so full of shit it makes me want to puke up the plate of Auntie Jane’s Mexican Pizza Fusion Surprise that I ate this afternoon.

The article continues by explaining that, after combining with the BREAD BAR (or “Bakery” if you’re not a new-age hipster dumb fuck) that was downstairs, they spent “months” pondering this stuff. Wow, really? Months? Don’t you have something better to do with your life? You know, like… fuckin’ ANYTHING! I understand you’re working on making your business better, but not even Rembrandt spent that much time thinking about… whatever the fuck it is that Rembrandt did that was so special. Your restraurant probably sucks, it’s not worth that much effort “Danny”.

“The price of Boodie’s chicken livers, for example, is $9, written simply as 9. This is a friendly and manageable number at a time when numbers really need to be friendly and manageable.”

Oh it just doesn’t QUIT does it?! This blog is going to be about thirty chapters long at this rate!? Every fucking sentence makes me more annoyed than the previous one! Son of a bitch. “Friendly and manageable” NUMBER?! How can a number be FRIENDLY?! Does that mean other numbers aren’t so friendly? “8″ rhymes with “Hate”, so it’s clearly an unfriendly number. When you’re attaching personality traits to NUMBERS, you’ve now breached the border between “annoying” and “fucking nutcase”. When you’re trying to get people to go all buddy-buddy with the price of their food, you’ve gone completely psychotic. It’s not even up for debate. No psychologist need be brought in, you’re a fucking lunatic “Danny”.

And then it gets more depressing when they say that we live in a time where numbers “need to be friendly and manageable”. I didn’t know that was an issue, did you? I mean, I know we live in a time where we need more funding for schools. I know we live in a time where we need to seek out a revival of common sense. I know we live in a time where understanding and togetherness will get us through the biggest of problems. But we also live in a time where we need to make sure our numbers are friendly? If that’s the time we live in, it’s time for us to go. Pack your shit, friends, it’s time to down the cyanide-laced purple Kool-Aid and go meet our fuckin’ makers. Life isn’t worth living if my numbers need to be “manageable”.

“In the world of menu engineering and pricing, a dollar sign is pretty much the worst thing you can put on a menu, particularly at a high-end restaurant. Not only will it scream “Hello, you are about to spend money!” into a diner’s tender psyche, but it can feel aggressive and look tacky. So can price formats that end in the numeral 9, as in $9.99, which tend to signify value but not quality, menu consultants and researchers say. “

“Menu Engineering”. Nope. I didn’t just read that. I made that up in my mind, as a cruel joke. Clearly no one would refur to making a menu as “engineering”. Would they? Of course, these are the same people that have used “Fusion” and “Restaurateur”. I guess we can’t let anything slip past them.

Don’t use dollars signs? Fine, I’ll let it slide. But only because they’re pointless. That’s the only reason you don’t use them on a menu. Not because they’re verbally assaulting you! And what the fuck does “diner’s tender psyche” mean?! My “psyche” wasn’t tender up until just now. And that’s simply because of your article, not a fuckin’ dollar sign! Your article has crippled my psyche, and pushed me that much closer to my inevitable breakdown.

Also, note the term “Menu Consultant”. So first it’s “engineered” and then we need to “consult” people. All this just to make a list of what shitty food you’re serving?! Listen. If anyone ever tells you that America has a job shortage, this article is your counter-argument. If a “menu engineer” and “menu consultant” are both real jobs, there is no such thing a job shortage.

” Mr. Meyer said. ‘The chefs write the music and the menu becomes the lyrics, and sometimes the music is gorgeous and it’s got the wrong lyrics and the lyrics can torpedo the music.’ ”

I sure hope he didn’t say that OUTLOUD! And what the fuck is with “Danny” and the word “torpedo”. It’s the second time he’s used it. Apparently, he’s really eager to blow up his diners. Which, considering what happens to your bowels after eating Indian food, isn’t exactly far from the truth.

By the way, a menu is not music. A menu is a menu. Music is music. Music takes actual talent and artistry, a menu is just a FUCKING MENU! Leonard Cohan could write a menu, without breaking a sweat, “Danny” could not write the song “Hallelujah.”. Unless it went something like “Hallelujah…. TORPEDO!”

“The use of menu engineers and consultants is exploding in the casual dining arena and among national chains, a sector of the business that has been especially pinched by the economy. In response, they are tapping into a growing body of research into the science of menu pricing and writing, hoping the way to a diner’s heart is not only through the stomach, but through the unconscious. ”

Science of menu pricing. Yes, I remember taking that course in High School, right after Chemistry and Physics. If these people who write “Hamburger: Five Dollars” call themselves scientists, they deserve to be shot. Or worse: Forced to eat the food they’re serving!

“Huddle House, the family-dining chain with more than 400 restaurants in 17 states, is rolling out a test menu at 20 restaurants next week. The company hired Gregg Rapp, a menu engineer and consultant who holds ‘menu boot camps’ for restaurants around the country. He said he had been ‘taking dollar signs off menus for 25 years,’ ”

I’m just going to go ahead and say it: FUCK YOU GREGG RAPP! I hope you vanity-Google your own name and come across my blog. Just so you can read this paragraph. I hope you get AIDs, you stupid ass. Menu Boot camps? Holy fuck, that’s a really powerful way of saying “Lesson on Writing Menus”. You’re not a drill Sergeants Drill Sergeants are tough, intimidating. You’re a fucking toolbag. You couldn’t intimidate a pack of 6 year old Girl Scouts with a title like “menu consultant”. He actually even says that he’s been “taking dollar signs off menus for 25 years”. Woop-de-fuckin’-do. Aren’t you special. I really hope a giant dollar sign falls of a big sign and crushes you today, Mr. Rapp.

The article jumps to another page. Imagine that, more than one PAGE of this shit!

A new person is talking at this point, someone who’s a something for somewhere, I don’t really care anymore. But she does say something that hurt my eyes to see.

“She said the chain took dollar signs off the menu in 2007, and now on the test menu, instead of an omelet and orange juice, there is ‘the light and fluffy Heavenly Omelet’ and ‘Minute Maid orange juice.’ “

Heavenly Omelet. And just when I thought Mr. Rapp was the worst thing to happen to me, I have to witness someone call a fuckin’ egg HEAVENLY! I don’t even believe in Heaven, and yet I still find this unbelievably dumb. If there was a heaven, I’d certainly hope it was more exciting than a fucking omelet. Why not just go for what you’re really trying to say: Orgasmic Omelet. Eggs so scrumptious they’ll make you bust a nut right there in the restaurant. I bet you’d sell a thousand more omelet’s a day than you ever could calling them “Heavenly”. Maybe I should become a “menu engineer”!

They then dive into the tricks of the trade. Talking about “decoy” items, really expensive items placed at the top to make customers think the rest of the dishes are more “resonably priced”. They begin to explain how customers don’t order the cheapest or the most expensive item on the menu. This is not true. If I’m with a date, and I can already tell I don’t like her: she’s getting the cheapest item. If I’m with someone who is offering to pay for my meal, I’m getting the most expensive. I have proven you WRONG, menu-consultants. So spare me your dumb-ass decoy.

After they list a series of other tricks, they throw in this stand-alone thought:

“Unless a restaurant wants to frighten its customers, the price should always be at the very end of a menu description and should not be in any way highlighted. “

“OH GOD IT’S THE PRICE!!!” Nothing scarier than the fuckin’ price. Give me some credit, I’m not scared of a number. I mean, it’s such a friendly number, right?

“Mr. Rapp, of Palm Springs, Calif., also says that if a restaurant wants to use prices that include cents, like $9.99 or $9.95 (without the dollar sign, of course), he strongly recommends .95, which he said “is a friendlier price,” whereas .99 is “cornier.” On the other hand, 10, or “10 dollars,” has attitude, which is what restaurants using those price formats are selling. “

Mr. Rapp is back again. I thought I told you to die, fucker. And he’s hit me with another moronic barrage of stupid. Now 95 is the friendly number. And 99 is CORNIER. It’s not a fuckin’ romantic comedy, you numbnuts, it’s the price of my food! And apparently, 10 has attitude. Again with assigning personality traits to numbers. While we’re at it, why don’t we avoid putting 1.36 as a price, because “36″ is a bit of a whore. And don’t get me started on that douchebag 73!

We keep going, now on to the adjectives used to describe food. Apparently, words make you more full after meals:

“Vivid adjectives can not only sway a customer’s choice but can also leave them more satisfied at the end of the meal than if they had eaten the same item without the descriptive labeling. “

That makes no sense. If that was the case, why not just try that shit at home. Sure, when you give a homeless guy a sandwich, don’t say it’s a sandwich, say it’s a “SUPER FUCKING AWESOME SANDWICH OF FULLNESS”. Sure, he’ll think you’re crazy and give you his change, but at least he’ll be more full from that sandwich. Just don’t buy the sandwich from “Danny”, because he’s a moron.

Why is he a moron? How about this:

“In contemplating the Tabla menu, Mr. Cardoz said he and Mr. Meyer decided there were too many unusual Indian terms that were alienating customers, so they kept only the most recognizable words, like tandoori, paneer and tikka. “

Tandoori. Paneer. Tikka. Nope, never heard of any of them. Are they the name of characters in Lord Of The Rings? So, Indian Fusion means “Indian Food… Fused with American Idiocy”.

Now “Danny”’s partner is getting in on the mix. He has this to say:

” ‘I feel most guests want to know what my inspiration was for any dish, and when they realize there is a connection for me doing something, they want to try it and they want to know it,’ he said. “

No, I really don’t. I don’t want to know SHIT about you or your meal. I just want to stuff food in my face because I’m hungry you idiot. That’s why I’m in your restaurant. For food! Imagine that! I’m not here for a history lesson or a Inside-The-Douchebag-”Restaurateur”’s-Studio discussion. I just want to put something in my face that’ll make me not as hungry as I was before.

“And there was one connection he was definitely not going to take off the menu, whether it was on the chicken liver or the onion rings, which come with “Boodie’s Ketchup”: his mother.”
Alright, “Boodie’s Ketchup” is the single most unapatizing thing I’ve ever heard. It really sounds like it’s in the same boat as “Butt Gravy”. I will never, in a million years, buy something with Booty Ketchup on it. Your mom needs a different name, man…

That was, without a doubt the second most painful experience of my life. The only way it could be worse if I had to eat a jar of vegemite while reading it.

The article has taught me two things:

1) The New York Times is fucking stupid

and

2) I shouldn’t go to restaurants, because they’re trying to fuck with my head.

So, there you have it folks. Next time you go out to eat, you’re now armed with the knowledge to beat the “Menu Engineers” at their own game. Now: Happy Eating!