#oh my god hang on laughing at everyone in this franchise having parental issues
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Anyone else thought about Ryuji and Aoki kissing?? I can see Ryuji just not taking any of Aokis shit... Fellow Aoki enjoyers.. plz tell me someone else thought about this
anon i think youre flying solo on this one. Respectfully. But maybe im wrong who’s to say Not Me
#snap chats#aoki would hate ryuji Because ryuji doesnt care LMAO#aoki didnt even like tendo they were just able to work together long enough#aoki promised tendo some power and tendo was willing to play ball until he got it#ryuji coulda just told aoki to suck his nuts before going off to do his own thing#ryuji’s plentiful more reckless than the other omi aoki had under his thumb#In An Ironic Sense maybe its cause they were older: aoki got beef with geezers lol#meanwhile ryuji’s his age. fucked up to think bout but Yeah#oh my god hang on laughing at everyone in this franchise having parental issues#yall think ryuji would be cross at aoki being a bitch to his dad/s cause on one hand ryuji hate HIS dad#but he do love his mama… and his lil sis.. for the five seconds he knew her..#he a family man. while aoki is not. let violence ensue LOL#anyway maybe im wrong idk anyone else in the crowd wanna step up on this one
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Survey #322
“you will hear it when your god cries / you will see it when the sun dies / upon the altars of change”
What is your favorite nickname that you’ve had? "Bee," from my old best friend. I don't want others calling me it, though.
Where did you go on the best date you’ve been on? A big arcade. It was a super fun double-date.
Have you ever gotten a professional massage? No, and I don't want one. It'd be so awkward.
What’s your favorite milkshake flavor? Chocolate.
What act would you be most likely to perform in a talent show? I got nothin'.
If you had braces, do you wear your retainers still? I don't.
If you had braces, have your teeth moved since you got them off? Yep, because of the whole "not wearing my retainer" thing.
Whose was the first baby shower you remember attending, and for what baby? I'm unsure. Possibly my sister's for her first daughter.
Do you know anyone personally who’s lost a child? Many people.
When was the last time you did something that felt like rebellion? So every now and again, I get a massive craving for soda at night, so I grab one from the kitchen and can hear my sleeping mother rightfully nagging me about it, haha...
What is one present you got for your last birthday? Ashley got me this really cool skull bank that says "tattoo fund" on it, aha. I love it.
What is one thing that you took to show and tell as a kid? I have a clear memory of bringing a Snorlax plushie one day.
Do you remember losing your first tooth? Not my first, no.
Are you afraid to pop a balloon? Not really, but it's kinda easy to make me jump just a lil bit when one is popped.
When was the last time you laughed when you shouldn’t have? I don't know.
Which was better: the first The Lion King or the second? That is fucking HARD. I adore both, but I think the original is slightly better.
Do any of your grandparents have a tattoo? I'm pretty sure none of them did.
Do you believe that your pets feel love towards you? My cat, definitely. As for my snake, I'm aware that snakes' brains simply aren't developed enough for love, but she clearly trusts me.
Are you proud of your body? Fuck no. I'm humiliated by it every waking moment.
Watermelon or cherries? I don't like either, but if I had to pick, watermelon.
Favourite brand of cookies? I don't really have a favorite brand.
Have you ever stuck gum under a desk/chair? No, that shit grosses me out.
When shopping at a grocery store, do you return your cart or just leave it? Return your goddamn cart.
What is one thing you’d never want your parents to find out? Uhhhh. I guess places I've "done it."
When you were little, did you like Dr. Suess books? I did.
Do you like eating out at restaurants? Yeah; at least, before Covid.
What was your least favorite year of your life so far? Fuck 2016 into the next millenium.
Do you like fried bologna? I haven't had it in so long that I don't really remember the taste. I think I would.
Have you spent money on a game online? Yeah, very briefly with WoW. Mom was nice enough to refresh my subscription after the breakup (Jason paid for it prior), but from then on, I was rich enough in-game to use monthly game tokens to "pay."
Do you put a line through your "7"s? Yes.
What about your "Z"s? Also yes.
Do you like cold pizza? Yeah, yummy.
Do you like broccoli and cheese? Yessss.
Toaster or toaster oven? We've always used a toaster oven.
What are you most known for? Being artsy, I guess.
Do you have any reputations? What are they? *shrug*
What was the last thing to leave you speechless? No clue.
What is the curviest part of your body? Well, I'm overweight, so it's difficult to tell where I'm naturally curvy... but I guess my hips. Even when I was at a perfectly healthy weight though, I don't think I was exceptionally curvy anywhere.
What is your opinion on sex change? You are entirely deserving to feel comfortable in your own body.
If you’re still a virgin, how important is your virginity to you? I'm not, though I thought I was when we were together, when we were really just using a loophole. It was a denial thing BECAUSE my virginity was so important to me.
If you have lost it already, do you regret it? No.
Would you take a break after graduating from high school (like, postpone going to college for a year or so)? I didn't.
What regret keeps coming back to haunt you daily? Things I said to Jason.
If you could cure yourself of one allergy, what would it be? Pollen.
Would you ever post a picture of yourself crying on social media? No.
Have you ever held a newborn baby? Yeah, my most recent niece I actually held. I don't THINK I held Aubree or Ryder as newborns because I was so afraid of not doing it right and hurting them.
Do you know anyone who has twins? Yeah.
Are you following in the career path of any family members? No.
What is your favorite country in Europe? Germany.
How many times have your comments been top comments on YouTube? A few times. I rarely ever comment, but if I do, it's because I feel like I really have something worth saying.
Would you ever wear a wig? I'm not opposed to it.
Do you like the moon or sun more? The moon.
Do you like turkey or ham more? Ham.
Have you ever slapped someone’s butt? Yes.
Do you think dimples are ugly? I think they're cute, actually.
Have you ever deleted Facebook friends for a significant other? No.
Have you ever spent the night in jail? No.
Do you consider yourself a good kisser? I assume I am from experiences.
Do you watch Pewdiepie? Not anymore, no. His current content doesn't interest me. The most recent thing I watched was his playthrough of The Last of Us 2, because I adore the first game and definitely wanted to see him play the sequel. I think he's pretty funny and have no personal issues against him, though then again I am so uninvolved in the fandom that I have no idea if he's done something stupid again.
Do you like "Despacito?" Haha, my mind went to The Dark Den's bearded dragon before the song... I'm not a fan of it, no.
Did you ever color your hair pink? No, but I absolutely want to dye it pastel pink one day. :( I even edited a picture of me "testing" different hair colors out, and pastel pink looked suuuuper pretty.
Do you drink energy drinks? No, they're too strong for my taste.
Do you have any subscribers on YouTube? I don't now how many I have, but I know it's below 100.
Do you have a Steam account? Yeah.
Have you ever played Five Nights at Freddy’s? No, but I enjoy the franchise. I'm not totally clear on all the lore, though.
Do you like religion? Quite honestly, no.
Do you swear in front of children? No.
What is the next craft you are going to make? There's no telling. I don't really do crafts.
What was your favorite Backstreet Boys song? Maybe "The Call."
Favorite *N Sync song? I don't remember enough of them, at least not right now.
Which of those two bands did you like best? The BSB, baby.
Do you learn choreography easily? When I danced, I'd say I learned at a fairly average pace.
What’s your favorite candy to receive on Halloween? Reeseeeeeee's. <3
Do you have a bobblehead? No.
Have you ever had a lead role in a play? No.
Have you ever been insulted or called names by a significant other? No. I wouldn't tolerate that shit.
What’s your favorite movie battle scene? Oh man, idk. Maybe something from Troy, though I honestly barely even remember the movie by now, haha.
Have you ever been to a same-sex wedding? No, actually.
Who takes care of your pet(s) when you’re out of town? Hypothetically, one of my sisters would come to feed and water Roman and clean his box. I'm certain I couldn't talk either into spraying Venus' cage, though...
What was the last thing you wrote down on paper? Some group work during therapy.
Did you have a Walkman when you were a kid? No.
What’s your favorite recipe you’ve come up with? Oh dear, I don't make those.
Do you like celery? Yuck, no.
By what age could you swallow pills? I dunno. A normal age.
Do you like to drink alot of water? I need to drink more. :/ I've gotten better, though. For years, I literally never drank water. How I even survived, idk.
How many times have you gone fishing? Countless times.
Ever been to a roller-skating rink? Yeah. I loved having bday parties there as a lil'un.
What do you refer to your mother as? (Mom, momma, mommy) Mom, Ma, and Mama.
Have you ever swam in the ocean? Yeah, multiple times.
What is the last movie that made you cry? I think the remake of The Lion King.
What would you like to swim in other than water? Nothing?
If you could uninvent one thing what would you chose? Damn, just one? Maybe cigarettes?
Have you ever read someone's diary? Absolutely not. I respect people's privacy.
Have you ever played in a waterfall? No, but that'd be dope.
Who has inspired you the most in your life? Probably Mark.
Is there a place where everyone who lives near you tends to hang out? Idk. Teens sure do love to hang out at Sonic, though, reving their stupid fucking trucks.
Does your alarm clock wake you with music, or with an annoying buzz sound? Music.
Did you make it all the way through the Oregon Trail game? Yes; I was obsessed with those as a kid.
Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! Which one are you more scared of? I feel like being alone with a tiger would scare me most. Though let's be real, I'd probably try to pet it.
Have you ever changed your favorite color? From what to what? It was originally red, but then became pink when I actually understood it was its own color. Then it was maroon forever, and now it's back to pink.
On a scale of 1-10, how competitive are you? Eh, 4-6? It depends on the situation, I guess.
At what age did your have your most memorable birthday? My 21st, because I was in the psych hospital for it.
Yes or no: Guys in skinny jeans? Yeah, man.
Yes or no: Girls with dreads? Some people can pull it off.
Have you ever attended a themed b-day party? What was the theme? Oh yeah, plenty.
Do you have any Eminem on your iPod/MP3 player? I do.
Has anybody ever given you a promise ring? No.
What do you think about putting ‘spinners’ on cars? So long as they're not too distracting, I don't care. Do what you want with your car - again, so long as it is not disruptive.
What celebrity do you wish would have a big comeback? I wish poor Britney Spears could catch a goddamn break and be happy again. She's a legend that doesn't deserve to feel like a puppet.
Were you outdoors or indoors more as a kid? I'd say there was a pretty even split.
Do you or have you ever owned a horse? No, but I LOVE horses.
Have you ever had a relationship that began via text? (weird, I know, but it happens…) Most of my relationships started through a text message.
Did you believe in unicorns as a small child? I don’t think so.
Would you ever date a guy with longer hair than yourself? Yeah; I have short hair anyway, and I also like long hair on guys.
Do you watch the show Wizards of Waverly Place? I used to love that show.
Have you ever been to the rainforest? No; humidity aside though, that would be so amazing.
Bats are not spooky or are they? I think they're precious.
Do you like the song "Womanizer?" I sure do, actually.
Do you like ice cream cake? Not really, but I'll eat it.
Do you know how to change a tire? Nope.
What kind of headphones do you have? Just cheap earplugs.
Do you experiment a lot with new looks on yourself? No.
What were some fun experiments you did in science class as a kid? Dissecting a frog was my favorite, and doing the same with an owl pellet was also very cool.
What was the last strong emotion you felt? Guilt. I lied to get out of group therapy early because I was just NOT feeling it whatsoever that day, and I hate lying.
Do you use dry shampoo between washes? No.
Have you ever lived with someone you didn’t get along with? No.
What types of animals have you had as pets? Jeez, what haven't we had... We've had cats, dogs, snakes, rats, gerbils, a rabbit, hamsters, lizards, fish, guinea pigs... Hell, I'm probably forgetting one or two.
Can you name three good things about your most recent ex? She's so creative, a real advocate for proper reptile education and appreciation, and very kind.
Name three bands/artists that you hate. Uhhh The Talking Heads, Bob Dylan, and The Police.
What’s the best memory you have of your father? Playing softball with him in the front yard, and when he taught me to ride a bike.
Should tattoos be meaningful? You get a tattoo for whatever reason you damn well want. I don't plan on all of mine to be meaningful. Some stuff I just want because I think it's cool.
Are you afraid of the dark? No.
Have you ever been through a trap door? No.
What's the most recent good news you’ve heard? Hm.
Who was the last person in your family to have a baby? My older sister.
When’s the last time you used the microwave? Last night.
What’s the worst thing in your life right now? Financial struggles.
Have you ever owned a tire swing? No.
Does anyone you know own a bird that can talk? No.
Have you ever been someplace tropical? Yeah, Florida.
Have Jehovah'ss witnessess ever called to your door? Yep.
when was the last time you went to mass/church? I have no idea. It's been many years.
Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? Thank heavens no.
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soooooo i was late on asking for the second movie but i call dibs for whenever ur organized enough to infodump it: What Happens In The /Third/ Movie Katie Klanced?
I meant to post this last year but then I got suspended and forgot smh -_-
Anyway it’s been almost a year, so here are a few links to refresh your memory on the masterpiece that is my Despicable Me au. In fact, here’s the tag because I love this au.
In my correct opinion, the third DM movie is definitely the weakest in the franchise, and I pretty much ignored its canon plot and wrote my own. So sorry if there’s a few loose-ends/plot-holes. But this is a Despicable Me au, I am beholden to no gods, no rules.
Roughly a year has passed since the events of the second movie. Coran and Alfor have finally gotten together (they’re either dating or married, I haven’t decided yet). Allura is away at college because I have way too many characters on my hands and I have to sideline out of necessity. Sorry, Allura.
The movie opens up with the entire family getting ready for an award ceremony at the AVL happening that night. It’s about as hectic a scene as you can imagine. Lance is running around without a shirt on. Pidge is wearing three shirts. One is her pajama top, the second is Lance’s aforementioned missing shirt. No one has any idea where the third shirt came from.
When suddenly, the phone rings!
Krolia picks it up, paying only 1/3 attention to the person on the line before she yells that it’s for Coran. Coran limps over, half a chewed shoe in his hand, the other half still on his foot. His right eyebrow is smoking. He is, understandably, a little terse when he shouts to be heard over the background din into the phone.
The screen diagonally bisects, to show Coran on the phone and… Shiro on the other side of the line!
Shiro introduces himself as the new CPS worker assigned to Lance/Hunk/Pidge’s case. Coran immediately has a heart attack and runs to his soundproofed study, slamming the door behind him as Shiro continues to just. Awkwardly talk on the phone lol.
Coran, internally: oh shit oh shit oh FUCK oh shit why now why nowwww oh lord is he calling to take away the kids? is he going to take away my BABIES??
Shiro: sorry for the late phone call sir, i meant to call earlier but i dropped my phone in a puddle and- i mean! the life of a cps worker is just packed hahahahahahahahahaah (WHY are you still laughing you IDIOT) ha-ahem! anyway. i’m the new cps worker, have i mentioned that yet? because i am. it’s just that, after we realized that the kids’ last foster home and agent let a supervillain just walk out with them - uh, no offense, sir! i just meant that, well, supervillains are generally understood to be bad- not to imply that you’re evil of course! Haha of Course Not, even though you were Literally voted the world’s most evil and accomplished supervillain several years in a row, but! That’s neither here nor there. Of course. :)
DM!Verse Shiro is a bit of a nervous doof but he also has a spine of steel when it comes to kids and making sure their living situations are safe. And he is very skeptical of Coran and his parenting skills, which is honestly pretty reasonable considering he’s an outsider looking in.
I mean, someone who was arguably the world’s greatest villain suddenly deciding to move to suburbia with his three (stolen) adopted kids does… seem like a bit of a stretch. And pretty sus lmfao.
Coran and Shiro eventually stutter their way into a productive conversation and arrange for Shiro to conduct a home visit/other CPS survey stuff very soon. Coran politely bids Shiro farewell, hangs up the phone, and has a panic attack because suddenly it feels like all his worse fears are coming true. Because the other shoe has finally dropped.
Life has been so kind to Coran lately, between his loving marriage and his lovable kids. It’s sad to say, but he’d half-expected something like this to happen for a while. Because people like him don’t deserve this kind of uninterrupted happiness.
Alfor quietly knocks on the door and takes in the scene before him. Coran reaches out, and he immediately rolls to his husband’s side.
Coran collapses against him and catches him up to speed. There’s a pause as Alfor pauses, absorbs, and digest the information, before he starts making calming shushing noises.
Insert Supportive Spouse Speech. Alfor reminds Coran that, for all he’s done in the past, he has damn well earned his present life. Alfor can attest to that, as can Krolia and, most importantly, their children.
It also doesn’t hurt that the internationally recognized Anti-Villain League is both a sponsor of and willing to provide a character reference for Coran. That counts for something, and Coran finally calms down.
This is what we in the writing business like to call “foreshadowing” :)
Scene cut to the AVL award ceremony. Krolia and Coran are both being recognized for their incredible heroics from the past year, etc etc, blah blah blah. Their speeches are very true to their character.
At the end of it, Kolivan goes up and stage and announces he’s retiring. Krolia, who knew this was happening in advance and fully expects to be named as his replacement, starts checking her lipstick in her hand mirror- only for Kolivan to introduce a ‘Commander Hira’ to the crowds.
FML, this is exactly the plot to the Spongebob Squarepants movie.
The entire Wimbleton Smythe-Altea Family freeze, mid-applause. Hunk awkwardly puts away his ‘CONGRATULATIONS KROLIA!!!!!!!!’ banner. Krolia shatters her hand mirror in her fist.
Within her first month, Hira makes some dramatic changes to the AVL. One of which is the agency’s complete separation from anything having to do with villains, including its rehabilitation program.
“Once a villain always a villain” essentially. Hira insists that villains are simply too evil to ever truly become good again, and that so-called “former” criminals are simply biding their time until they can enact their revenge.
As a result, Coran is fired. Alfor protests Hira’s decision, and resigns out of solidarity. Krolia calls Hira a bitch and is also fired.
The kids are ecstatic that their dads + aunt are home 24/7 now. Krolia is less pleased. She’s been an active agent for more than half her life, so this sudden and forced turn for domesticity has her clawing at the walls.
One of the sub-plots is Alfor trying to convince Coran to become a superhero, “just like the old times.” (Coran: Love, I was literally your supervillain arch-nemesis).
Coran is hesitant, because 1) He still has low self-value and doesn’t see himself as a hero, and 2) He’s perfectly content to mooch off his billionaire boyfriend and spend his time as a stay-at-home dad.
To take their mind off their sudden unemployedness, Coran and Alfor throw themselves into preparing for Shiro’s house visit. This mainly entails Alfor calming Coran down from an anxiety attack every other hour.
There is a lot of tension in the house.
And then, like magic! An invitation to the biggest supervillain symposium of the year appears, because villain mailing lists are especially evil and refuse to take Coran off their register even though he literally arrests villains for a living.
“So you’re telling me,” Krolia says, and Coran instinctively inches for the door. “That you’ve had an opening into the world’s biggest villain convention, this entire time, and you didn’t tell anyone?”
“W-e-ll,” Coran stutters, slapping blindly behind him for the doorknob, “It just didn’t seem very fair, you know? To ambush them like that, all because of their lazy office workers. That’s not very good sport.”
Krolia and Alfor try to convince Coran that he should go. Krolia is convinced this is the in they need to reclaim their jobs; they’ll infiltrate the Supervillain Symposium, arrest all the biggest bads, call the AVL, rub it in Hira’s face, take a selfie while she’s sobbing in the background, celebrate as the masses drag Hira to the guillotine-
Coran: Krolia I love you, I really do. But you have issues.
Krolia: I happen to be perfectly adjusted for someone in my situation.
Coran is still hmming and hawwing because, now that he doesn’t have to fight villains for a living, he quite likes Not Being In Constant Danger. But then Krolia reminds him that he is both unemployed AND now blacklisted by the AVL, two things which might very well doom him in the eyes of Shiro (and the rest of CPS). He needs to do this if he wants his job back and, therefore, keep his kids.
(…. At some point, Coran shaves off his mustache in a stress-filled attempt at appearing as a better guardian, but no one recognizes him so he has to wear a fake mustache for the rest of the movie)
Coran of course is immediately super gung-ho for this plan and declares they’re leaving ASAP.
The kids of course are raring to go, the adults are vehemently hell no to that idea, and in the ensuing argument everyone forgets that Shiro is coming today.
A series of events thus follows, which can be summarized as:
The adults say that the kids can’t come.
The kids decide that yes, in fact, kids can come and plan accordingly.
The kids are preparing to tail after the adults (after waiting a reasonable amount of time of course (this isn’t their first rodeo) in their own modified plane when they hear what sounds like their babysitter, the Reformed Lotor, coming around the corner.
The kids immediately go into attack mode only to realize, after the dust has settled, that they’ve actually knocked out Shiro.
In their infinite pre-teen wisdom, the kids decide to stick with the plan and load Shiro into their equivalent trunk and take off.
A few moments later, Lotor finally arrives, looks up from his phone, realizes there are no kids to be watched, and shrugs and goes home.
The scene cuts to Shiro groggily stumbling out of the corner the kids have stashed the plane in, only to realize, to his absolute horror, that he’s on an island filled with Supervillains attending a Supervillain Convention.
Hunk: Man… I feel like we forgot something.
*Shiro screaming in the distance*
For brevity’s sake I’ll cut off here, but just know that this is only the FIRST THIRD (IF EVEN THAT) of the movie. I am absolutely off the CHAINS. I still haven’t even introduced Keith yet. I love this au.
#voltron#coran#alfor#krolia#lance#pidge#hunk#alforan#despicable me au#long post#ask#anonymous#katiecanons#if it isn't obvious i'm trying to clear out some of my drafts and. well. i love this au so lmfao#otp: gay dads
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What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)
What stupid thing is trending now? Well…
It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.
First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.
The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.
I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.
Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”
I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.
It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”
Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.
That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.
Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.
This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.
Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.
So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.
Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.
It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.
Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.
There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.
It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”
This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.
Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.
Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.
from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017-2/
from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/182592126672
0 notes
Text
What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)
What stupid thing is trending now? Well…
It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.
First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.
The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.
I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.
Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”
I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.
It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”
Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.
That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.
Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.
This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.
Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.
So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.
Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.
It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.
Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.
There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.
It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”
This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.
Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.
Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.
from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017-2/
0 notes
Text
What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)
What stupid thing is trending now? Well…
It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.
First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.
The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.
I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.
Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”
I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.
It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”
Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.
That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.
Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.
This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.
Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.
So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.
Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.
It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.
Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.
There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.
It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”
This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.
Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.
Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.
Source: http://allofbeer.com/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017-2/
from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2019/02/05/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017-3/
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1st Post!
January 16th, 2017
I want to be clear. This blog isn’t meant for you. Well it is, if you get anything from it. If not, don’t read it. This is the first time I’ve ever “blogged” or put something personal out in the airwaves for other people to consume at will. My close friends and family most likely would call me a private person. I consider myself one. My last two instagrams were two separate posts, a year apart from one another, as a dedication to my fiance on her birthday... if that gives you any idea of my social media presence. Basically put, I don’t do this very well, so if you have a criticism of this, keep that negative energy to yourself, because frankly... I don’t give a shit about your opinion. It won’t change my day-to-day life one bit, so why try to bring me down?
I find social media (Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, whatever the hell else the kids are using these days) almost completely useless. Apart from connecting with those people who you’ve lost touch with over the years, reading an interesting news article, keeping up-to-date with current events (politics/sports), building your brand or business, or getting injury updates for my fantasy team... what the hell else could you possibly use it for?
With that being said, I try to stay off social media because of “the feed.” Today social media is used by +1 uppers for +1 uppers. The unwritten rule of social media goes like this: How can I make my life seem way cooler than it actually is?I need to do this so all of my followers will feel jealous about my life, thus in turn making me feel confidence by the number of likes/comments I receive. Listen I’m a millennial, I get how looking cool makes you feel. Good. It makes you feel good. But at what cost? Everything has a filter. Every girl wears make up. Every girl changes the angle. I mean shit, there are photo editing apps now that you can make your waist look skinnier and your ass look bigger. I feel pity for those that use these to make themselves feel better. You have an insecurity issue.
If I could offer one piece of advice, even if you don’t take it, free yourself from that daily time waster. Imagine for just 30 seconds... if you took even half the time you spend on a daily basis on social media... and redirected that time/energy towards doing something positive for yourself (reading a book, advancing your career, looking for your next step in life, hitting the gym, getting off your ass, doing those things you’ve been putting off forever) how much better off you’d be... rather than knowing that Suzy Fucking B. was just in Turks & Caicos and her boyfriend kinda got fat... like who the fuck cares? Nobody!!
So why am I doing this? Simply put, I’m doing this for me. This tumblr will serve as a daily/weekly (I haven’t decided this just yet) accountability tool for me. I decided that this year was going to be “my year” just as I have said to myself in years past, as I’m sure we all have. The difference is this year, I’m actually going to follow through with a year’s worth of body transformation. You see, I’ve been a hockey player my entire life up until three years ago when my career was cut short... by my inability to make it past the NCAA Division I level. You thought I was going to say a career ending injury, didn’t you? Well, you were wrong. I wasn’t good enough to make the NHL. I convinced myself that if I didn’t secure one of those 600 jobs that millions of players shoot for, that I was a failure. Obviously now I realize that this is a ridiculous standard to set for myself and that I should be happy with the career I had, but at the time... I did. I felt like a complete failure. I’ll share a little bit about my upbringing, so you can see how I would arrive at a conclusion like this.
Imagine for two minutes if you will, that your father was a legend, a hall of famer, bumped shoulders with the greats, Gretzky, Messier, Jagr.. the list goes on. My old man played 20 years in the NHL, will be in the hall of fame someday, and was given the nickname “the little ball of hate.” He’s the only player in NHL history (still to this day) with over 500 goals and 2,900 penalty minutes. After his career was over he transitioned into scouting and now acts as the Asst Gm and Director of Player Development for an NHL franchise... so I basically what I’m getting at is: he’s kind of a big deal. My dad’s brothers all played professional hockey. One in Europe, One in the minors, and another one played NCAA Division I as well. My cousins play in the Ontario Hockey League with hopes of getting drafted in the next year. This section isn’t meant to make me seem like a braggart, rather to give you an idea of the standards I’ve had to live up to. In fact, I am the oldest and only son of my parents. I have four younger sisters. So all of my father’s hopes and dreams for me to make the NHL and follow in his footsteps was on display with how involved he was in my hockey career. I basically grew up in the rink and gym. When I was 13 years old, I started training as a hockey player with my dad and my uncle Tim, who at the time was playing professional hockey. I started skating as soon as I could walk and my mother was up at 4:45am everyday to take me to practice at 5:45am, because that’s the only time we could schedule practice.
I will spare you most of the details, but my hockey career took me different places. When I was 15, I was playing against 20 year olds and attending one of Detroit’s premiere prep schools, where EVERY single year, there was a kid who scored perfect on the ACT and SAT’s. Most of my classmates are going to be titans of industry, if they’re not already. Yes, I was privileged to be afforded all of these opportunities, but this curriculum in combination with my time in the gym, my time on the ice, and the 1.5 hour commute from High School to a different country (Canada) every single day, it made it kind of tough to get good grades or really be focused on anything but hockey. Between that experience and junior hockey where I lived with a surrogate family in Nebraska, Springfield, IL, Youngstown, OH, and other places, I was busier than most 15-20 year olds. I missed most of my high school dances for hockey etc.
Why am I telling you all of this? You need to understand the type of pressure I put on myself to be the best player I could and to be in the best shape possible. Once my career was over, I was probably in the best shape of my life, and was like “Oh my God... I don’t have to workout!” I can relax, hang out, drink beer, go to parties, do whatever the hell I wanted to basically. I’ll never forget, when I was in college, we would do year-end fitness testing so that we’d have a baseline for the following fall when we came back to school and training camp. Everyone hated testing. My senior year when the underclassmen and next year’s seniors were doing their testing, some of the other seniors’ and I bought a 30-rack of natty light (classy) a pack of cigarettes and chain smoked drinking beer watching these poor bastards run until they puked, laughing the whole time. Now... I’m not laughing. Why?
I’m 28 years old. I’m 219lbs. I’m probably 20% body fat. I haven’t touched a weight in a year. The thought of going to the gym scares me. Not because I’m unfamiliar with what to do, but I’m dreading getting back into it. I have psoriasis patches that itch like hell on my scalp (probably from leaky gut), and I hate myself when I look in the mirror. My playing weight was between 187-193lbs with 8% body fat. I was in pretty good shape. It’s time for a change. The joke or nightmare is over.
2016, however, ended on the best note humanly possible. I proposed to my fiance, surprised her with all of our family and friends, and I made a 6 figure salary for the first time in my life, ever. Since I’m getting married (still feels surreal to say), I promised my fiance that on our wedding day, I’d be in the best damn shape of my life and I’d be the best possible version of myself on that day (a theme I’m going to try and stick to over the course of this journey). So, this is an introduction to me, my life, this journey I’m embarking on as a normal human being, with no filters, no fluff, no bullshit, just the journey. So if you follow this journey and I inspire you in some way to go on a journey for yourself, don’t wait, just start. In 2017, I will transform my body into something I will be proud to call my own. After all, you only get one of these. So, cheers to the year, Cheers to this journey I’m starting, Cheers to the body I want. Nobody can stop me. I’ll bend, but never break. This body will be #builtbybeeker.
- Beeker
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What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)
What stupid thing is trending now? Well…
It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.
First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.
The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.
I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.
Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”
I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.
It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”
Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.
That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.
Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.
This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.
Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.
So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.
Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.
It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.
Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.
There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.
It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”
This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.
Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.
Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.
from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017/
from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/176531947952
0 notes
Text
What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)
What stupid thing is trending now? Well…
It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.
First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.
The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.
I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.
Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”
I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.
It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”
Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.
That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.
Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.
This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.
Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.
So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.
Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.
It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.
Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.
There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.
It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”
This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.
Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.
Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.
Source: http://allofbeer.com/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017/
from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/08/01/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017-2/
0 notes
Text
What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)
What stupid thing is trending now? Well…
It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.
First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.
The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.
I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.
Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”
I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.
It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”
Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.
That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.
Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.
This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.
Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.
So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.
Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.
It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.
Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.
There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.
It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”
This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.
Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.
Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.
from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/12/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9242017/
from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/168467925207
0 notes
Text
What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)
What stupid thing is trending now? Well…
It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.
First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.
The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.
I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.
Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”
I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.
It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”
Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.
That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.
Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.
This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.
Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.
So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.
Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.
It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.
Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.
There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.
It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”
This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.
Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.
Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.
Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/12/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9242017/
from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/12/12/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017/
0 notes
Text
What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)
What stupid thing is trending now? Well…
It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.
First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.
The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.
I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.
Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”
I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.
It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”
Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.
That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.
Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.
This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.
Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.
So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.
Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.
It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.
Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.
There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.
It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”
This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.
Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.
Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.
from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/12/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9242017/
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