I’d Like To Thank The Academy…

Guess what? I got a blogger award! My mom will be so proud. That is, if she ever starts answering my phone calls… fuckin’ caller ID.

Yeah, anyway, Pauline over at Brightest Blue, who says that this place is “Humorous musings from one of my favorite blogger misanthropes”  gave me this:

 
I guess it implies that I am “Kreativ”. Which isn’t a word. I mean, not only is it usually spelled with a “C”, but for no apparent reason they got rid of the ”e” at the end all together. Unless that’s German. Fuckin’ Nazi’s. So, what this means is, I’m something that doesn’t actually exist. I’m nothing. That does very little towards boosting my self-esteem. But, look at it this way. While I’m absolutely nothing, all of you that didn’t get the award are, that’s right, LESS than nothing. Eat it, bitches. 

But there is a catch to this. I have to follow a base set of rules and requirements. Fantastic, a homework assignment! Now you’re calling me nothing AND giving me work, not to mention making me waste a blog entry on this stupid award. So, of course, I’m filling this blog with unnecessary bitterness just to make it funny and more Me-like. To keep up appearances, and also ’cause I’m kind of an asshole. Anyway, here are those rules I was talking about:

1. You must thank the person who has given you the award.

2. Copy the award logo and place it on your blog.

3. Link the person who has nominated you for the award.

4. Name 7 things about yourself that people might find interesting.

5. Nominate 7 other Kreativ Bloggers.

6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate.

7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs to let them know they have been nominated.

Let’s get started, shall we?

1) Alright, fine. Thanks bunches, Pauline, for this wonderous honor. I feel so accomplished. I’m going to print out a copy of that picture, and slap it on my wall. That way, everyone can see how I am so “Kreativ” and do what most people do when you flaunt your “achievements” in front of them: Not give a rat’s ass. So yes, thank you. You’ve given me a reason to live on, and for that, I thank you very little.

I’m of course kidding, and am honored that out of all the people she could have picked, and she does have a blogroll longer than a black man’s… well, you get the idea, it’s really long! She had to pick seven people, and I was one of them. That just goes to show that I am Top 7 on the awesome list (for this one person). I swell with pride.

2) It’s up there. You can go look at it if you want. It’s fancy. I could do without the foo-foo color scheme and unnecessary use of designs and stuff. It’s just a tiny square image on the internet, it’s not a Victorian-style dining establishment. Someone with Microsoft Paint was bored one day, and now we have that monstrosity.

3) I did that up there too. This list thing isn’t going according to plan. But, I guess it doesn’t hurt to do it AGAIN. Go read her shit over at: Brightest Blue. Even though, to be honest, I’d have to say there are brighter blues. Sorry hun, your blue’s bright and all but… I mean… come on. BRIGHTEST?! I’m not “Funniest in Shadows” or “Funny in the Darkest Shadows”, now am I? Be humble, girl, people will love you more. Not that I’d know anything about humble… or love… or people, really.

4) Oh, this’ll be just DANDY won’t it. Seven things about me that are interesting? Really? There really isn’t anything. I can name seven things about me that’ll make me seem like a heathenish bastard? How’s that? Close enough? Good. Here we go.

-I used to play the trombone in middle school. I also didn’t spend a lot of time in high school getting invited to parties or getting laid. Not sure if the two are related, but I’m also not sure the two aren’t related either. So, kids, if you’re going to choose a musical instrument: Play the Sax. It sounds like “Sex”, and it doesn’t have phallic implications.

-I used to have ferrets, since we’re on the topic of things with phallic implications. They’re interesting. They’re like giant pipe cleaners with feet.

-This blog is really just the next step in a serious of related humor things. In Middle School, me and my best friend had something that become known as “The Book” amongst most of our grade level. It was a 300+ page, multi-year project. A collection of random “comedy” shit that we wrote. He drew comics. I wrote skits. He wrote skits, I made lists. None of this is funny. Not a damn word, ‘cept maybe the comics I drew about sperm. Those still make me chuckle. By the way, the book DOES still exist in some form, I haven’t thrown any of it out. Why? Because it gives me a lot of fuel for making fun of my friend. And that’s how I roll!

-Despite my tiny frame, I love food. Eating is a big thing for me, man. You all know about my crack-like candy addiction. And I’m sure at some point I’ve mentioned how happy pie makes me. But I love food in general. Great food. Shitty food. I don’t care, just let me put it in my face. This, however, does not apply to Vegemite. Which is the devil in a jar. FUCK YOU LOONY! You’re not getting this Kreativ Award JUST because I’m punishing you for the Vegemite!

-I used to be on medication! “NO WAY?!” Yes, way. It lasted all of two weeks. It was a long time ago, and it didn’t help. It just made me boring. And you wouldn’t like me when I’m boring.

-I got stuck in Mexican customs once as a kid. Not for anything I did, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t there. It’s quite a fascinating place. Luckily, I was too young for them to look for things in my ass. That’d have been a bummer. A big bummer. And as you all know, I don’t want a dude’s digits in my ass.

-I’ve had a grand total of ONE girlfriend. Interestingly enough, women don’t like guys with a sense of humor. They like guys who aren’t me. And I’m sorta stuck being me. So guess I’m fucked. Or not fucked, if you really think about it. I’m going to start crying now, I’m so lonely… DAMMIT PAULINE! This is all your fault!

5/6) Nominate other people? But I hate other people? And I don’t even read their blogs! I just post comments so they think I care and then read my shit (I’m kidding (No I’m not (Yes, I really am) ) ).

Here are the seven people I would call “Kreativ”.

Alexandra’s Sick Mind – If I had to pick only one, this would be it. This girl is me, only really hot, really smart, really interesting, and really unique. So she’s not me at all. But if you haven’t read her blog, it’s the most amazing shit you’ll read all day (other than here, of course), so get on that!

Blurt – Oma, Oma, Oma. Why would I give you this? What the hell makes me think you’re “Kreativ”. Well, your blog was the first one I stumbled upon on wordpress that didn’t bore me when I was starting my blogroll. I guess that’s worth something.

Defenders Of The Mirth - Does a podcast blog count as a blog? Who cares, I’m going to give it to them anyway. Friggin’ Europeans! These boys are interesting, and have on occasion made me “Lol”. So, here, have an award. I know it’ll make you all warm and fuzzy inside. Also, you should really include more stuff from that Bob Reinhard guy, he was the highlight of your show so far! Oh, let it be known that this award is double-applied to Ben at Cosmicstresshead , if only because he’s associated and a part of the Defenders now. I can do that, right? Double-award? Wow, you guys have caused me to break all kinds of rules for this thing. Kudos.

The Friggin’ Loon – Alright, I was kidding. You can have the award, Loony. The most reliable source of news on the internet. Taking news stories and writing quick blurbs about them might not be “Kreativ”, but at least it’s funny and worth reading. However, she still gets the award because she came up with the most “Kreativ” way of torturing another human being: Vegemite.

I Want Ice Water – You wish you were as angry and rant-tastic as I am, but nay-nay. But you’re good enough to get the award.

Shouts From The Abyss – The SECOND person not to be boring. And he blogs entirely too much. Because of these two facts, an award you get. Make sure to tell everyone how I re-defined blogging for you when you re-post this. It’ll most likely be your… third? Fourth? post today.

Everyone else gets one too. ’cause I love you guys.

There, that’s six, is that good enough?. The rest of you are gonna have to find your own source of awards!

7) I’ll leave comments on your blogs later. I’m too lazy now. I had to write all this crap! I have to take a nap now. DAMMIT PAULINE!

There, was that a long enough acceptance speech? If this was the Academy Awards, the cut-off music would not only have played, but they’d have to start over at the beginning of the song. I talk a lot, damn. But hey, that’s what makes me “Kreativ”.

Hitler + Time Machines = The Worst Awesome Blog Idea Of All Time

Let it be known that I had to google “Time Machine” to see if it was one word or two. It’s two. Thanks Google and Wikipedia for doing all my thinking for me.

Anyway, once again the title of my blog has a positive word (awesome) and a mention of Mr. Hitler. Again. One more and my blog becomes the leading source of Pro-Hitler propaganda. And as such, I’d like to once again state that Hitler = Not Good, Jews = Totally Good. Just like to make sure that’s plenty clear. As I did in my previous Yay-Hitler style blog.

This is going to be a slightly different blog. Instead of talking about things that actually happened or exist, or at least things I pretend actually happened or exist in order to make it more funny, I’m going to try something different. Today’s FiS is a creative-writing project that was sparked by a conversation between me and “Teh Co-worker” the other day. Yes, it was a conversation about Hitler. Time Machines were brought up. By me. Because I’m just that fucked in the head.

This piece of beautiful, one-of-a-kind art that I’m about to present to you today is dedicated to my high school guidance counselor. The one who said “He’s creative and very bright, but he just doesn’t apply himself”. Bitch, consider my creative brightitude APPLIED!

It all started with a simple question: What if Hitler had a time machine? And of course, I decided to answer my own question. This was after convincing “Teh Co-worker” to put the phone down and not have me committed to an institution. And believe me, he’s considered it quite a few times. And for good reasons. Like willingly putting Vegemite in my mouth. I was lucky not to be dragged out with a straight jacket on for that one. Or after that one.

Anyway, onto the answer to my rather pressing Time Travelling Hitler questions. I believe the whole scenario would play out like this:

*cue cool smokey dream fade out sequence*

The Beginning

“The American’s are coming, Hitler! And they seem sorta pissed about something. Could be the whole taking over Europe by force and killing a bunch of Jewish people. It’s sorta unclear.”

“They’ll kill me for sure! Quick, to the TIME MACHINE!”

“Why do you have a time machine. And why are we speaking English?”

“Gift from Japan. Obviously. Who else would have Time machines? And Bob’s too lazy to try and write in German. Just shut up and play along.”

So, Hitler, on the run from American ass-kickers and a few English tag-alongs, rushed to his time machine. And just started slamming buttons. This, of course, accidentally takes him to…

THE FUTURE!!!!!!!!!!!!11111111111111oneoneoneoneoneone

Chapter 1: Hitler’s Tale

2010. Somewhere in California. A retarded former actor is Governor. Paris Hilton hasn’t been executed for the good of the country. Marijuana is legal… sorta. And a time machine, mistaken as a prop, is stored in a Hollywood set-piece warehouse. Our hero… er… villain, Adolph emerges. He has escaped death. And found himself in much worse peril – He is in Cali-fuckin-fornia. Could be worse, could be Detroit…

Oh no, Hitler has been spotted. Not by security, not by the army, but by the only thing worse than Nazi’s – Hollywood Producers.

“There you are! We’re about to begin filming!”

“Film…ing? Ah, yes. I’m an actor. I’m here to act.”

“Well, he certainly seems air-headed enough to work in American television. Alright, you’re going to play the lead in our new soap opera.”

“Of course I am!”

And just like that, Dolph Hitz (a clever stage name) takes control of television. Surely from here, he can come up with some new, evil plan to take over zee VORLD! One fat, middle-aged house wife at a time!

And the show is a hit! Because, if we’ve learned anything from Jersey Shore and Dancing With The Stars: American’s will watch anything, no matter how fucking dumb it is. And what do you know, all of Hitler’s co-stars and big, blonde, blue-eyed numbskulls. In other words – THEY ARE PERFECT! And just like that, Hitler begins to build his new Storm Trooper army: A bunch of b-rate actors. The world is now in trouble!

Chapter 2: FDR’s Tale

Back in the 40s, the American forces have discovered the time machine. And it’s up to FDR to head into our time and stop Hitler from destroying the future. Luckily, the time machine’s back then were very politically correct and had a wheel chair ramp.

FDR arrives in 2010, to discover that Hitler is now a successful super-star. He even gets his latte’s HALF OFF! Do you believe that! Only 11 dollars! That’s a fuckin’ steal!

Frankie realizes that the only way to put an end to Hitler, is to stop the show. And as such, he sets out to start his own show. He gathers up a crack team of writers. Interestingly enough, they’re all Jews. Go Figure.

And thus, the battle for our world has begun!

Chapter 3: Whoever The Fuck Was Leading Japan During WWII’s Tale

Oh shut up, you don’t know the dude’s name either!

Anyway, Mr. Japan-guy has come to Germany to check on his wonderous invention. He isn’t alone, of course. He’s come with his best friend Mussolini. Or “The Moose” as he was probably not called by his friends.

So The Moose and… Mr. Japan-guy have travelled to our time as well, to aid Dolph in his battles. The Moose decided to help Dolph train his men. Luckily, right next door there was a Yoga Studio for sale! I mean, this IS Pretentious-Liberal California after all. There are Yoga Studios every like… half a foot.

As the dumb blonde, blue-eyed Storm Troopers began their Lotus Position exercises, that… Japan-guy (now shortened to Jappy), was putting his plan into motion: Working on creating all the weapons needed. And what better way to do this than to open up a tiny electronics shop.

Within a week, the superior Japanese electronics put all the American stores out of business. Within two weeks, Jappy owned the monopoly on Electronics, building a force of stores capable of over-throwing our government. We’ll call it “Wel-Murt”.

Dolph’s successful show, The Asian-Sounding Hipster-Named Yoga Studio, and “Wel-Murt” were an unstoppable force. FDR and his new talk show/cooking show/sketch comedy hour just couldn’t hold enough viewers to stop them. So, he sent a message back. It was time to assembly the MUTHA FUCKIN’ ALLIES!

Chapter 4: Mutha Fuckin’ Stalin’s Tale

Here comes big, bad Joey Stalin. A mobster mentality and a taste for really awful liquor. He was tasked with bringing Jappy to the ground. The only way we knew how: Blowing them to itty-bitty pieces.

But how? How do you stop an electronics store? Well, this is land of he yuppy arrogant bastards, so we must adhere to their electronics tastes. And thus, Stalin started working at the Apple store.

That’s right. I’m on to you Steve Jobs. You fuckin’ Communist douchebag.

It only took a week of working at the “Genius Bar” (seriously, that’s what they call their fuckin’ help desk. How’s that for an ego?) to let Stalin know one thing: All American’s were unworthy of life.

“Note To Self: When I return home, start building nuclear weapons and blow America up in a Cold War.”

It figures the source of the Cold War was Apple. I knew it! Damn you, Steve Jobs. You Red Peckerhead!

Stalin began working on a new weapon. One capable of taking Japan down in a single blast. And it also holds upwards to 3000 of your favorite songs. But it’s programmed to blow up and kill you immediately if you put any Jonas Brothers on it. I think all iPods are. Anyway, the weapon? It was called…

The iBomb!

DUH DUH DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH.

*pause for dramatic effect*

Chapter 5: Churchill’s Tale

It was going to take more than over-priced gadgets to stop Dolph. So FDR called Mr. Chill himself! And the shit, or in this case the English Cooking (same difference), was about to hit the fan!

Mr. Chill had to find an army. But where could he find foot soldiers, and fast? Well, Los Angeles is right there…

Mr. Chill had to find some people willing to off a bunch of dumb-ass white people. That is when he discovered LA’s greatest business minds – The Bloods and The Crips.

But there was a problem. They were at war with each other. Mr. Chill couldn’t have his future Warriors of Justice and General Good-Doings fighting each other. He had to step in and mediate.

And wouldn’t you know it! The Crips and The Bloods, at war for quite awhile, were best friends in just 23 minutes. That’s how fuckin’ B.A. Winston fuckin’ Churchill was. Seriously. The fucker could talk a meteor out of crashing into Earth he was so bitchin’.

And thus, the armies were built.

Chapter 6: World War 2.5

Ratings wars. A bunch of drive-bys. A Radiohead song followed by a massive mushroom cloud-causing explosion. Mussolini running away and hiding like the pansy ass he was. The war was fierce. And of course, filmed and broadcasted on Television by exploitive news reporters.

Who won? That’s up to you and your imagination my friends. I just can’t do everything for you.

The End.

Or is it…