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Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Things That Chap My Ass #1

You wanna know what chaps my ass?  What really grinds my gears?

PENNIES.



I ask you: What good are these little copper crappers?  Other than making your hands smell bad when you touch them, collecting grime in my car cup holder, and providing endless hours of entertainment for America's youth by flicking them at each other from across the classroom, I really can't think of any other purpose that they serve.  They are completely useless, especially in today's economy.  Damn man, I gotta start saving me some money, better start holding on to my pennies so that after I save a HUNDRED of them I'm ONE FRIGGIN' DOLLAR RICHER.  Give me a break!

"Seriously though, can I borrow your dust-buster?  I want to clean my room."

Nope.  But you can chuck a handle of fucking pennies into that sucker and they'll collect the hell outta that dust in no time!

And can we show Honest Abe some respect for Christ's sake?  The man who's responsible for ending slavery, preserving the Union during the Civil War, signing a bill that chartered the transcontinental railroad, and countless other feats, is stuck on the shittiest, ugliest, most useless coin our nation's got to offer. I know he's got the $5 bill and all (which is the best $ bill), but let's not desecrate his legacy by making him face right for the rest of eternity on the goddamn penny.

Fuck off, pennies.

(Other notable spawns of the penny: Ex. 1, Ex. 2, Ex. 3)

Monday, November 28, 2011

Leaders of Men: Bennett - Australian Accented US Commando

The 1980s were a crazy place.  All former US commandos had foreign accents and South American military coups occurred on every other Thursday.  If you wanted to start a South America Gov't, you covered yourself in marmalade, impersonated Scarface, and extorted some local banana companies.  Sometimes you had to recruit the best guy to start the takeover, and that's where Bennett could help.

While most mortals feared the wrath of John Matrix, the baddest ever Austrian-born U.S. Commando, Bennett kidnapped Matrix' daughter and extorted him into service.  Bennett had confidence in his protective gear--a tank top of leather and medieval body armor, accompanied with some stylish weight-lifting gloves. Apparently, Bennett took pride in his figure, which resembled that of a middle-aged lesbian.

"Let's make this snappy.  I have Judas Priest tickets."

"You're going to pay me how much to be the dad in Clueless?


Seriously, who did the fucking casting for this movie? I imagine it went something like this:


Producer 1: "OK guys we need an intimidating villain that's believable as a former badass U.S. Commando."

Casting Director: "How about we find a flabby Australian guy and dress him up like a gay S&M sex slave?"

Producer 1: "Perfect. But who can we get to play the power-hungry South American dictator attempting a coup?"

Casting Director: "I have just the guy.  He's a Jew from New York.  We'll cover him in shoe polish and make him talk like Speedy Gonzalez."

Producer 1: "Genius.  What's are we paying this guy?!  Let's double it!"


"On second thought, let's just forget this ever happened."
Although Bennett gives a good fight, John Matrix is un-fucking-stoppable. I have to give him credit, it's like watching a sloth fight a lion.  "Let out some steam.."

Saturday, November 26, 2011

My Gym Mixtape

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a total gym nut. To the point where people have just started straight up calling me “Jim” for a nickname - I fuckin’ love it, gets me juiced! And besides the fact that I go to the gym at least 4 times a day, you can’t maintain a rock-hard, badass body like mine without a couple of badass tunes, right?

I’m constantly switching up my gym mixtapes, but time and time again, there are always a few staples that I just can’t live without when I’m fixin’ for some high performance health. So with that said, I present to you 5 timelessly badass tunes that will always be playing on my Walkman as I continue my pursuit for fitness excellence.

Goo Goo Dolls - Iris
I’m a pretty spiritual dude and all about finding zen through my workout. In order to do so, I just slap on a little Iris, get naked, and rip a couple of curls with 5 pound aerobic weights in the mirror of the locker room. I'll bet ya dollas to donuts there’s no better pre-workout workout than this.




Foreigner – I Want To Know What Love Is
Alright Jim, I Want To Know What Love Is is on – time to get down to some business. I’m definitely feeling juiced when this song comes on and it’s when I really start striving for the burn. You better hope you’re not in my way – I’ve been known to black out when Foreigner comes on my Walkman and I accidentally once pushed a woman out of my way to get to the leg press. She went all crazy on me, but I blamed Foreigner for making such a fuckin’ kick-ass song.

Sugar Ray - Fly
This song comes on about halfway through my workout and at this point, I’m just havin’ fun wit it. Fly can be a wild card though - for what it's worth, there wasn’t a sexier song written in the 90’s than this and I never know what I’m gonna be up for when it comes on. Maybe you’ll catch me doing some dead lifts followed up by some capoeira dancing as I mosy to my next station. If I’m feeling sexy, maybe I’ll go try and chat with the chick in the leopard-print leotard at the juicer station. Or maybe I’ll just head back into the locker room for a refresher and do some more naked curls. Who knows?



Linda Ronstadt & James Ingram - Somewhere Out There
Full disclosure: I’m a Fievel guy. A lot of people think of Rocky and Hoosiers when they think of inspirational movies. Not for nothin' but, is it even an argument? Poor Fievel Mouskewitz and his family are just trying to emigrate from Russia to America in hopes to escape oppression by a cruel army of cats.

Long story short, upon the Mouskewitzes trek, Fievel gets separated from the rest of his family and winds up floating to America alone in a bottle. Once he finally washes up on American shores, he must overcome some serious challenges, including getting screwed over by Warren T. Rat and escaping an attack by a gang of cats called the Mott Street Maulers. But you think that shit’s gonna stop fuckin’ Fievel? Nay! Just when you think he’s gonna give up, he overhears Papa Mouskewitz’s violin playing – a sound so familiar to young Fievel – and in the end, it is the beacon that leads Fievel back into the arms of his family.

The reason this makes the mixtape is because I’m always tempted to give up when the burn kicks in – 5 sets of 265 lbs ain’t no game of checkers. But then I just think of Fievel, and how he didn’t give up either. And whenever that little mouse’s face pops into my thoughts, the bar gets lighter, and I get stronger.

Skip It Jingle
I think the whole muscle confusion trend is phenomenal. But I’ve taken my own approach to it. On each mixtape, I like to throw this quick, 30-second ditty in random spots throughout the playlist. And whenever it comes on, I stop whatever workout I’m doing and just do 30 seconds of skipping ‘rope. It’s a real bitch, but this song is so happy and fun, it helps take some of the pain away.


So there you have it - 5 songs I won't leave home without. Maybe they're not for everyone, but those people who aren't for them are called pussies and I don't associate with them anyways.



LET'S DO THIS


Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Shit Is Fucked Up And Bullshit #3



Our ancestors didn't kill millions of innocent Native Americans so you could eat this shit. Take this mularkey to France.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

What the Fugg is dis n-gga doin wit my Thousand Island?

This Week's: What were you thinking?

I hate protesting hippie douche-bags as much as the next guy, but what in the world was going through this mentally retarded rent-a-cop's mind when he did this?
"Alright, listen up you hippie scum rats! If you don't stop sitting indian style on the quad I'm going to permanently maim you by burning your faggy eyes out with this turbo charged can of pepper spray!"
C'mon guy, what were you thinking?
Although, I do love how he holds the can up first just to let everyone know that he was about to lose his job.

Hey Arnold!

Hey Arnold, what do you think of Ryan Miller's crying about being checked by Milan Lucic?

Monday, November 21, 2011

11:11 on 11/11/11

Holy shit.  This is incredible, I just fuckin ate my 11th sour cream and onion pringle at 11:11 on 11/11/11, I wonder if it was the 11th second of the the 11th minute, or even the 11th millisecond of the 11th second of the 11th minute.  The moronic possibilities are endless.


Seriously who gives a fuck about the predictable way that our calendar and base-ten number system align so that that the day, month, and year are the same fucking number?! Is anyone impressed by this? It's happened for the first twelve years of every century, for the past twenty-one centuries.  It means nothing.  And this also applies to work-Dilberts asking me "Hey, did you know its 9.10.11 today?  How cool is that!?" About as cool as yellow-stained collar, bro.  Just eat your rice cakes and keep to your excel files.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

The B's are SICK














The Bruins might be the best team in the NHL right now. Although they had a horrible start, they've managed to tie 8 wins together and still haven't lost a game in November. The Bergeron, Seguin, Marchand line literally gives me a boner. I hope those NBA assholes never come to an agreement and hockey takes over Boston once and for all!

 














Thank God for Massachusetts

Unfortunately, I am not unfamiliar with Centre County, Pennsylvania, home of the Penn State University Scandal.

Last March, a few friends and I had spent the last week traveling through the mid west.  We were on our way home, cruising U.S.A through the boonies of Pennsylvania when I was awoken from a deep slumber by my friend.  We were being pulled over.  It was about 7:00 AM.  The RV we had rented had a break light out.  Talk about a simple twist of fate.  That little bitch of a break light ended up costing me my dignity, and my respect and hope for this country and the human race, not to mention the thousands of dollars (literally) it ended up costing me.  To make a relatively long story short, we had a small amount of that green stuff on us.  Small enough that it would warrant only a fine in Massachusetts equivalent to a parking ticket.  The policeman suspected such because he saw something on our driver's (my friend's) shirt that he described as "some sort of green vegetable matter" (he really has a way with words, that guy).  We gave him the small amount that we had and were cited for possession.

So on the ride home I'm thinking, "Alright, maybe we get a fine or something in the mail, pay it off and be on our way."  You know, the way it should be.  But we couldn't have picked a worse state for this kind of thing to happen in.  I clearly hadn't been hipped to the ideals and mindset of good ol' western PA, because a month later we were all summoned back to court in Centre County, PA.  I had to get a lawyer, I had to rent a car, hotel, and take time off from work to travel the eight and a half hours back to that location of the spawn of the dregs of our once great nation.  That was the first of three trips we had to make back out there; once more for an actual hearing, and once more for a day of community service because it had to be done in that county since that's where the incident took place, not Massachusetts.  Believe me when I tell you that I'd never do you no harm! that I will never set foot in that state again if I can manage it.

They say there's no substitute for experience, and that first arraignment day in court was a learning experience if nothing else.  It was the first and hopefully only time in my life ever having been on that side of things.  When I say that the court room was filled, I mean it was filled with young guys and girls like ourselves, quite a few of them who were students from Penn State.  All similar "crimes" as my friends and I; minor possession, underage drinking, etc., and all paying the same thousands of dollars in court fees and fines that we were paying.

These are the types of things that Centre County, PA puts its stock into.  Oh no, you're not going to smoke weed or underage drink in their county!  Buuuuuuuuuut, football coaches raping ten year old boys in football locker rooms ain't that big of a deal.  That's not even an exaggeration of what these people think.  A graduate assistant was walking through the locker room showers late at night when he witnessed former Penn State football coach Jerry Sandusky anally raping a child, and the assistant reported this exact information to Penn State University's Athletic Director Tim Curly and Senior Vice President for Finance and Business, Gary Schultz.  A court case was opened, and these two dickheads testified and were asked if the graduate assistant had reported to them "sexual conduct" "of any kind" by Sandusky.  Curly answered, "No" twice.  They were also asked if the grad assistant had reported "anal sex between Sandusky and the child" in which Curly responded, "Absolutely not."  Do you hear that low humming sound?  That's my blood boiling.


Paterno's reaction when one of his player makes a bad play.

Paterno's reaction when he finds out his assistant coach is banging
ten year old boy's in the locker room shower.  "What else do you want me to do?  
I told my superiors."  Uhhh, how about going to the police?
Wait, I forgot, you've been entrenched in the bowels of Pennsylvania for the last half century,
you don't have any common sense.  My B, JoePa!

Two things on my mind here:

1) Either these two men sludge-pits are in on it somehow and don't want to get caught or,
2) They care that much about Penn State's reputation that they were willing to sacrifice a young boy to a wolf like Sandusky to save face.

Either way, these two should burn in Hades personal lair for all eternity.  And I'm positive that they will.  In fact, I think I just became more religious.  I mean, there has to be an afterlife of eternal suffering just for pieces of excrement like these, right?  If not, you need to get your shit together, God, no pun intended.


I think the most frightening thing about the whole Penn State scandal to me is how it could continue to happen for so long in such populated places in major public settings.  Take a look at the map above.  If these types of events are going on in the middle of Penn State, what the hell sort of things are taking place in the dark areas of the map that make up more than half of our country?  Makes me shudder.  Makes me want to hop in one of Rufus's phone booths, shoot back in time to the War of 1812 so I could assassinate Andrew Jackson before he's able to win the Battle of New Orleans in hopes that the Essex Junto might actually succeed.


You just had to save New Orleans, didn't-cha Old Hickory?
It is very easy to take a look at the city of Boston and point out everything that sucks about it, what with all its bro-ness and over-the-top sport emphaticism.  But until you've spent extended time in areas like Bellfonte, Pennsylvania, you really take our city for granted.  I'm more than content when I stop to think of how fortunate I am to have been born and raised in this area of the world.  I love the northeast.  I'll take New York and Boston over any other cities that I've been to up until this point in my life.  Boston has it's fair share of slime for sure, but what do we really emphasize?  I like to think it's things like culture, music, strong work ethic, education, family, and not to be underestimated, the importance of common sense.  And we don't waste time and resources on issues like whether or not gay people should be able to marry, or tie up our courts with our college youth by penalizing them for committing acts accepted by society as a whole that every other normal person their age are participating in.

"We are Penn State!"  Correct.  You are a bunch of a douche bags that should be thrown into a massive blender, chopped up into a stew, and fed to the dogs that have more integrity than you could ever hope to have.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Fuck All This Mayonnaise

Mayo is the grossest fucking thing to ever fuck a sandwich, let alone touch some fries.  Today, while having an especially miserable day of work at my mind-numbing office, I looked forward to the delicious "goloco" burrito combination at nearby Boloco.  I ordered my usual mix of various meats, beans, and sauces and thought, "why don't I go fucking crazy and chuck some asian slaw in there? I'm a fan of asians and having nothing against slaw."  After schlepping through the homeless people and organic farmer stands in Copley Square, I pick up my order and skip back to the office ready to delve into my wrapped creation.  I take a bite and immediately taste some foreign substance that alerts by body to hit shut down mode--regular slaw.  A creamy disgusting mix of mayonnaise and cabbage (really? cabbage?) that your aunt's miserable friend would bring to a cookout because she hates food and life.  Anyone that knows me knows that I don't do mayo--it gives me the willies.

Coleslaw is Southern Slang for Regurgitated Bird Shit 


So I chuck the burrito in the trash and walked downstairs to the incredibly overpriced Blue Glass Cafe for a safe old Turkey Sang--the Chad Pennington of sandwiches.  It won't win you the game but it won't be terrible either.  Waiting in line..waiting in line...finally I'm next and the woman in front of me takes her order...then says "and can I have a chicken salad on wheat?"  NOOOOO.....now the knife will be gross for my turk.  Just as I suspected, the polite illegal immigrant making sandwiches took the knife, now slobbered with Mayonnaise and canned fish, and rubbed it all over the middle of my sandwich.  Fucking mayonnaise ruins everything, today is not my day!

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Leaders of Men: Richie Aprile from the "Old-School"

Richie was a proud capo in a New Jersey crime family until he got pinched and went to prison for ten years.  He kept his mouth shut and upheld his mafia oath.  Upon release, he found out that his little brother's fat friend was head of the family, and a camel nosed scumbag was beating up on his niece, Adriana.  But before he could deal with that, he had to pay a visit to his old partner Beansie, who still owed Richie money and never once visited Richie in the can.  Like any reasonable person, Richie ran over him, and then ran him over again.



After the exchange, Tony confronts Richie and asks him to "back off Beansie" to which Richie replies "I did. Then I put it in drive."  What a huckster!!

Richie must then deal with "camel nosed" Christopher that's been beating up his beautiful and perfect niece, Adriana.  According to Richie, Christopher's nose is "so big that he can smoke a cigarette in the rain with two hands tied behind his back.  What a fuckin canopy."   In a true act of chivalry, Richie tells Christopher, "I'm from the old-school. You wanna raise your hand, you give her your last name.  The it's none of my fuckin' business.  Until then, keep your hands in your pockets. We understand each other?"

Hear that ladies?  I think all women deserve a loving and protective uncle like Richie!

Now with his ducks in a row, Richie could finally make some money.  Out of many viable income options, Richie chose cocaine--a timelessly safe and lucrative investment.  The only problem is that that cranky boss Tony didn't appreciate Richie's entrepreneurial spirit leaking onto certain garbage routes.  That lead to the following exchange:




That Tony is such a curmudgeon.  Richie's just tryin to get a slice of the gabbba goo, you know what I'm sayin Guissepe?  Although "Manson lamps" is the best description of creepy eyes I've heard in a long time.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Friday, November 11, 2011

Jerry Sandusky: The Bernie Madoff of Pedophiles


Disclaimer: I don't mean to be insensitive to the victims of these awful crimes.  Just trying to be funny, it's the only way I can deal with things.

Imagine your some working pedophile, just getting by on the few kids that want your shitty baseball cards, puppies, or whatever else you're peddling out of a rusty brown van.  Years of blown coverage and outdated trench coats have limited your pool of potential victims, and parents are becoming increasingly aware of your tactics.  You aren't looking for the best looking kids, just something acceptable.

Then you hear about this Sandusky character. Hundreds of kids at his disposal through charities, foundations, coaching, and every father that dreamed of their son playing for Linebacker U.  "Hey Joe, let me take Joe Jr. for an ice cream and I'll tell him a few blitz secrets." "Sure Jerry, sounds good." Hell, in a seriously bold move for a pederast, he adopted six children and fostered many more on a rolling basis.  And best of all, he never had to worry about getting caught.  The entire community loved him, and even more importantly, anyone that told was screwing Penn State football (God in PA).  While most diddlers had to outsmart nosy parents and clever police officers, Sandusky openly hung out with kids. Anyone that suspected him chose between protecting children from horrible crimes or tarnishing the pride, identity, and reputation of the massive Penn State community.

Your everyday pedophile was pretty amazed by Sandusky's operation.  I imagine that low-level con men and country club hustlers felt similar when they learned about Madoff bilking the investing community.  Most con men were lucky to trick Nana out of $10,000, while Madoff was printing money from large institutional investors that were none the wiser.  If you took down Madoff, you were taking down billions in private investment--no one wanted to be that guy.  Unfortunately, the longer someone like Madoff or Sandusky is allowed to betray an entire community of trusting individuals, the worse the fallout.  If Sandusky was arrested when a guy caught him anally raping a boy in a shower in 2002, we wouldn't be in this mess. Similarly, if SEC looked at Madoff's shitty books before the financial collapse, investors would have saved billions.  As it turns out someone blew the whistle on both of these guys, and our and our government chose not to pursue.  In Madoff's case, the SEC punted.  For Sandusky, a much more troubling scenario ensued.  The complaint went up the chain, the DA wanted to prosecute, but then he went missing and his laptop was found without any data.  Interesting....

When individuals betray a large community of people that not only trust that individual, but have a stake in his or her success, the downside risk from whistle-blowing will force complicity or enabling.  No one wants the of foreseeable consequences, but they will come to pass.   Allowing continued betrayals just delays the inevitable, and severely increase the horrible consequences.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Blasting Satan Away With A Machine Gun...Praise Jesus.

New Slang

As we get closer to 2012, I'd like to take a look back on some of the latest vocabulary that's entered my vernacular over the past year.

Slang Word: Mrs. Roeth
Origin: My Fantasy Football Team
Definition: To wake up excited on a Sunday only to be disappointed a few hours later
Example:
Me: It’s Easter Sunday! I can’t wait to look for my Easter basket and eat a lot of candy!
Mom: Bob, you’re 27…we don’t give you Easter baskets full of candy anymore
Me: MRS. ROEEEETTTTTH!!!!

Why the fuck was this California Raisin even still coaching in the first place



Slang Word: JoPa
Origin: Curiously uncreative nickname for lifelong coach of Penn State football, Joe Paterno, who was recently fired for his involvement in a child abuse scandal
Definition: To keep a deep dark secret for someone
Example:
Someone named Quico: Yo dude, can I tell you something really personal that you can’t tell anyone?
Me: Yeah definitely
Quico: Alright…I’m actually a hermaphrodite
Me: (shocked/speechless)
Quico: I know…
Me: Well, it’s definitely going to be tough. But I think I can JoPa that one for at least a couple of years.


Slang Word: Lackey
Origin: Last name of Red Sox starting pitcher, John Lackey
Definition: To know something is going to suck, but not realize just how badly it actually is going to suck
Example:
Co-worker: Hey, you ever see that movie Due Date?
Me: Yeah, it was shit.
Co-worker: I know, but it had like, Zach Galifinakas and Robert Downey Jun-
Me: Exactly. It had Lackey written all over it.


Slang Word: Glee
Origin: Hit television show about a bunch of high school kids liberating themselves through glee class, I think
Definition: Something so incredibly irritating, you wonder how masses of people can be so enamored with it
Example:
Radio DJ: And that was the latest single by one of today’s hottest young acts, Passion Pit!!!!
Me: That shit was pretty fucking glee if you ask me

Don't worry doc. All I need is a "few more drips" of propofol and I'll be fine. Trust me, no one will ever find out.



Slang Word: Dr. Conrad Murray
Origin: Michael Jackson’s doctor who evidently caused his death (although I’m personally very skeptical that Michael Jackson wasn’t forcing him to inject him with more drugs)
Definition: Sleeping pills
Example:
Someone who can’t sleep: Pass me the Dr. Conrad Murray’s please?


Put these terms into your everyday conversations and people will surely think you're a weirdo, but an intriguing weirdo at that - like those teenage vampires that all the kids are talking about these days. And if this week was any sign, there will certainly be more slang added to my personal dictionary before the year is nigh. Do stay tuned.

Leaders of Men: Paul Sarone - Paraguayan Snake Hunter


In this new weekly installment we'll celebrate world heroes and how their contributions have bettered the live of billions.  This week's subject is famed Paraguayan snake poacher Paul Sarone, who fearlessly commandeered an Amazon riverboat to hunt a 40 foot anaconda.  Although he didn't catch the snake per se, Sarone achieved moral victory when his actions lead to the death of Owen Wilson.  Some believe he is a hero from the future sent back in time to kill J-Lo and Ice Cube before their horrible "songs" and "movies" corroded our society.  This was post Friday and NWA, so Ice Cube's only redeeming contributions would be spared. 


"Go fuck yourself J-Lo. I hope you get strangled by a CGI snake"

Big Paul came upon a boat of pussy documentarians and imposed his will.  When the crew found him, he was hurting from a long night of killing bait monkeys and harassing native Amazonian honeys.  He convinces the naive crew to head down river for a doctor, but he just want to catch him some snake.  At one point, he turned down J-Lo's attempted seduction because he knew her snatch felt like a bear trap.  He eventually dies in a blaze of glory and snake puke.


It smells like J-Lo's soul 
RIP Paul.  Gone but not forgotten.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Stoned Thoughts: If you were a kangaroo, what would you keep in your pouch?



Cell Phone
Trail Mix
Pack of Gum

Boom. Pretty boring you say? Well I say "Settle down Heady McBongRips, and hear me out".

I'd wager that most people would say some stupid shit like a bottle of booze or butts or a kitana sword or whatever. The thing is, that shit ain't gonna save you when you're being hunted by tourists. That shit happens and you gotta react. This guy ain't gonna save you:


Trail mix for energy when you're running and hiding, cell phone to call for help, pack of gum so you got fresh breath for when you make it back to your hot kangaroo girlfriend.

Save the bottle of booze for the hot tub.

P.S. How weird are kangaroos? Weirdest animal ever.

Shit Is Fucked Up And Bullshit #2


Fuck this movie:





The Best Thing I Have Ever Seen In My Life

This was brought to my attention, courtesy of T-Bomb. An excellent remix of one of the greatest things to ever hit YouTube.


We Should Stop Paying Attention To These Celebrities

As a natural-born hater, I've always had healthy contempt and skepticism towards celebrities.  Are they really who they portray to be, or are they just some drama school jerk that adopted an "image" in response to market research?  Sure, it's easy to hate guys like Justin Bieber because they're always lookin like "I be ballin' son" but haven't lived one day of real life.  I can't blame Biebs.  If I were mechanically designed in an Orlando lab and programmed to smile for cameras, I'd be walking around like a Lesbian in an LPGA locker room. Straight cheesin' son.

"Hey Deb, I can see your snatch from here!
JK!  Great chip on 18 though."



I'm talking about celebs that used to be somebody else, but have reinvented themselves with a boardroom persona.  I feel duped.  There's some deception that escapes the throngs of public fans willing to dump their meager salaries into the coffers of these overpaid hacks.  So here's my short list of undeserving celebrities.




They see me rollin.....
                  1. Drake


What He Used to Be: The wheelchair kid on DeGrassi, a shitty Canadian teen soap opera

What He Is Now:  A wildly overrated rapper loved by "hip hop fans."


Why We Shouldn't Like Him:  Drake is a painfully mediocre rapper that took Jay-Z's swag over skills strategy to new levels.  He's the first Mickey Mouser to become a legit player in the rap game, and true rap fans hate it.  People just like him because he's cool.  But is he? I think he's just Jason Priestly with barely enough blackness to say the N word.



Intimidating
What's worse is that he doesn't even rap.  He whines about pounding chicks on piles of cash.  Apparently rap now includes minutes of hazy singing that sounds like someone is raping a feral cat with two pieces of styrofoam.  He inherited this "skill" from his mentor Lil' Wayne, who hasn't stopped chugging purp drank since he made millions off The Carter II and became a parody of himself.  Fans just want to be on the same team as these guys because they're "cool" but no one really pays attention to their shitty music.  Now teeny boppers that have never heard Wu-Tang can claim to be rap fans because they like Drake's emo verse and leather jacket.  Whatever this is, its not rap, and Drake is Jason Priestly.


2. Neil Patrick Harris AKA "NPH"

What He Used to Be: Doogie Houser, MD

What He is Now: Hack Joke Cliche Sitcom 3000 - Your Grandmother Will Love It

Your grandmother thinks I'm hilarious
and I could definitely fuck her.
Why We Shouldn't Like Him: Right now, Neil Patrick Harris should be giving blow jobs on an infomercial casting couch next to Carlton Banks, Steve Urkel, and Cory Matthews.  Call me old fashioned, but I like my pants pressed and my child stars DESTROYED.

NPH was destined for obscurity, which partly helped his come back in 2004's Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle.  NPH couldn't possibly be anything but a dorky child genius, and it was funny to see him blow coke off a stripper's ass.  Well Neil Patrick took the ball and ran, and now we're left with another overrated ever-present actor that parodies himself  for millions.  Every time I see his smug face it just says, "Aren't I so NPH!! I love being edgy."  He's the perfect example of someone that's edgy within completely acceptable norms, also known as NOT EDGY AT ALL.  That's why my Nana loves him.


His Wikipedia page lists his occupation as "magician" so that might have something to do with it. He's a walking gold mine for networks right now, so I'll just have to keep talking over my grandmother when she mentions him on holidays.

                                                         3. The Black Eyed Peas

What They Used To Be:   A somewhat listenable hip hop act


What They Are Now: An international hypnosis conglomerate

Why We Shouldn't Like Them:  Where should I start. After years of research with University psychology departments and boardroom villains, the BEP have developed a fool proof formula for platinum sales and lucrative sponsors.
  1. Create or purchase catchy hook. 
  2. Boy sing hook, girl sing hook, repeat for four minutes while wearing space suits. 
  3. Dr. Pepper
  4. Build Igloo out of million dollar bills
Has anyone heard "I've got a feeling"?  That song made more money than you could selling kiddie porn at Penn State.  They could put entire cities through college.  I'm of the opinion that they should owe money for polluting the airwaves with an unavoidable song.  If given the option between hearing "I've got a feeeling" and some other sensory rape, I would've chosen the following affronts to my senses:

  • Taste - Bong rip of poodle farts
  • Touch - Belly flop into pool of caterpillars
  • Smell - Sixty-nine Rueben Studdard
  • Sight - Naked Golden Girls twister without Blanche

Needless to say, I don't like the song.  But just as their research showed, I found myself singing that awful hook and chugging Dr. P. The whole country was hypnotized, and who knows what could happen next time.    If we could boycott these clown-penis robots, we'll all be better off. 

Penn St. Has A Real Mess On Their Hands



Literally

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Restaurant Review : Coop's Bar and Grille

Located in scenic Quincy, Ma. This is one of my favorite places for chowing pub grub. Now mind you, this is not gourmet dining. If your looking for some pretentious review from some puss foodie about the garnish setting on the exterior of the plate, fucking scram. If you wanna know about some food to take down on a hung over Sunday, look no further. Lets take a look at some of the up's and down's of this South Shore establishment.

1. Appetizers - B+

-The number one app they have going has to be the wings. And these aren't of the baked in the oven covered in some shitty BBQ sauce variety. These babies are deep-fried, crispy on the outside, moist on the inside deliciousness. Dip 'em in the honey mustard or buff sauce, you wont be dissapointed.

-Gotta also point out the nacho's, covered with chili. Everything you'd want in a mound of nachos is on there. Hot peppers, onions, a couple different cheese's, shallots, bacon bits. Throw the chili on there and you wont need to eat again for 6 hours. Thing is devestating. But that's probably because im a huge fucking slob and take the whole thing down by myself. If you split it with 2 other's you'll have plenty of room.

-If you dont want to go into a coma from the regular nacho's, go with the "Poor Man's Nachos." Same thing, only steak fries instead. Not as huge of a serving, but damn good.

2. Burgers - B-

These burgers are very good, but not mind blowing by any means. They have alot of the basics, BBQ burger with onion rings, blue cheese burger, etc. My favorite has to be the:

- "Shocker Burger" Don't be deceived by the name, this burger has nothing to do with finger-blasting teenage babes under the bleachers. But it features pepper jack cheese, jalapeno's, bacon, and some spicy sauce. Rock solid choice.

3. Pizza - A

Easily my favorite part of Coops. Everyone talks about "South Shore" pub pizza around here. It is a personal pizza with a flaky crust. Many eateries on this side of the city claim to have the best pub pizza going. "Town Spa" in Stoughton, "Lynwood" in Randolph, but Coops is right there with those grease pits, if not better. I'd take it over Town Spa any day.

-"Boston Cheese Steak" Thing is fucking legit. Steak and Cheese on a Pizza. BAM.
-"BBQ Chicken" Also excellent. Sweet sauce, solid chicken chunks. WHABOOM.
-"Buffalo Chicken" You know what it is, absolute money.
-"Cheese" Don't sleep on the basic with a little tabasco. Only 5 beans too.

4. Drinks - D

Easily the low point of dining at Coops. For beer, you're safe if you stick with bottles. But their drafts fucking suck. They taste like they haven't changed the taps in a while, and the choices aren't that great. They also offer the "Coops Brew" on the cheap, its Natty Light. I dont know why they're trying to claim they brew beer, its a blatant lie. Don't get me wrong, if your looking to go in there and hammer away you won't notice. But if you've been there as many times as me the reality will set in.

5. Atmosphere - B/D

If your looking to watch sports and grub down this is where you want to be. You can slap hands with the Quincy relic to the right of you every time Brady slings a TD to Gronk. You can slop out and not worry about it. Also featuring KENO and Golden Tee. For that, it get's a B.

BUT, if you think your going there on a Friday night scoping babes, think a-fucking-gain bro. Place is hurting. That is unless your looking to take down some 45 year old scag of course. I'm sure you can pull down "Dottie" from Quincy High class of '76, and you'll be happy as a pig in shit. She can give you some war stories about how the place used to be called "Frenchie's," and she smoked her first Newport Light 100 out back by the dumpster. But unless that's what your digging for, best keep your eyes glued to the T.V. and the nacho's.

Overall: B

If they had a better beer situation going on, they'd be looking dead at an A- rating. But the food and sports atmosphere are so fantastic im still there at least every other week. Go there to grub, you won't be dissapointed.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Tough Guys are all over the place

I don't know if its just me, but I have been noticing a lot of tough guys out on the streets lately. Here are a few different examples to help you identify these chiefs if you are having trouble:

Irish Tough Guys
Irish tough guys are all over the place. For some reason it makes you tough if your great great grandfather migrated from Ireland. These tough guys think they're all of a sudden heavyweight champions of the world since their last name begins with an O and is followed by an apostrophe. Irish tough guys are fans of drinking and Notre Dame, since their mascot is Irish and fightin'. You might see a shamrock infused barbwire tattoo wrapped around their biceps or a shitty t-shirt/scally cap combo. Hopefully their freckly peans get kicked in by someone who has had enough of their shit.















UFC Tough Guys

UFC is a pretty shitty sport in general, and it seems that it is aligned with fans of butt rock concerts. They usually have a shit ton of tattoos and will most likely overdose from huffing paint or die in a fiery motorcycle crash. If they don't die, hopefully they suffer from an awful case of road rash for discipline. Peter McNeely would wipe the floor with most of these UFC douche bags anyways so you might as well watch boxing. In the meantime the Hurricane needs to knock these fanboys out.




















18-22 year old Sporting event Tough Guys
If you have been to a game lately, you definitely ran into the 18-22 year old tough guy. Most likely he was wearing a gold chain, sawx hat and one of his yankee sucks, Drink beer and fight, or Looch Crew t-shirts. They typically travel in packs and are always cocked off of a pint of schnapps, which leads them to crack shitty jokes and pick fights with everyone in their section for not getting loud when the loudness meter comes on the jumbotron. Someone will inevitably be fed up to the point of getting into a confrontation with the sporting event tough guy, and hopefully that person spikes the sporting event tough guy's head off some concrete.














Italian Tough Guys
Italian tough guys are similar to the Irish tough guy, all you have to do is add a gold chain, tooth pick in the mouth, gallon of hair grease, and a vowel at the end of the last name and you will have yourself an Italian tough guy/cockbag. These idiots have seen one too many New York Italian gangster movies and living in their parents basement well into their 40's. Italian tough guy will cruise down Revere beach parkway in a '96 Mustang trying to pick up some hosehound named Donna from Saugus and maybe score a bag of coke. If you ever get in a confrontation with the Italian tough guy just head butt him square in the face and jam a cannoli up his ass for good measure.


















-Hop Tough Guys

Hip Hop tough guys usually cruise up my busy street past midnight blasting the bass from some shitty overplayed song by that black kid from Degrassi. It bothers the hell out of me, but there is slight consolation when I hear their shitty civic that they paid to lower to the ground scrape the pavement from the pothole a little ways down the road. These assholes usually frequent overpriced clubs and pick fights after their third shot of "fahkin Patron, son." On the plus side, a lot of Hip Hop tough guys carry guns, so it is almost guaranteed that they will blow each others
brains out at some point.


I Don't Care That We Changed the Clocks Back

"Fresh air makes my heart hurt"

If one more person acts tire because we changed the clocks back ONE FUCKING HOUR I'm gonna shit.  "You know, it's REALLY 3 pm, that's probably why you're so cranky!"  No, I'm cranky because I have to sit at this shitty desk all day and listen to human Nilla Wafers talk about American Idol or whatever bull shit they use to forget their miserable lives.  I'm no Chuck Norris, an hour time change won't throw me into disarray.  Seriously, it's a fucking hour, and it happens on a Saturday night when you can (presumably) sleep til....whenever the fuck you want.  It has virtually zero effect on your behavior, energy, or general existence.  Yet every time we do it, we have to listen to the same stupid shit.  "Did we gain or lose an hour of sleep?  Spring forward fall back!!" Spring me out of this window so I can fall to the street maybe a get a few days off.

Domination


Elevator T-Shirts

As a hater of all the bullshit conversations I must endure from working with breathing twinkies, elevator small talk may be my least favorite.  I've noticed that elevator conversation is extremely limited, useless, but necessary for some god-forsaken part of the working population. While most normal people just look down until they reach their destination, many others engage in predictable small talk.  I have designed the following t-shirts to cover your elevator convos:

WEATHER


















WEEKENDS






     





CURRENT EVENTS


So just buy these shirts, rotate them, and all you'll be set.  



5 Things I Used To Love That I Now Loathe

The Boston Red Sox
Been saying it for years. Everything surrounding the organization is just annoying to me – the fans, the absolutely insane media, Papelbon, etc. Just look at that fucking picture for Christ’s sake! To be honest, the news I’m hearing lately about the drinking in the clubhouse is the sickest thing I’ve heard about the Red Sox in years. Oh shit, they like to party too? Now we finally have something in common! That picture is just irritating me so I need to stop talking about these assholes before I blow a gasket and smash my computer.


Pitchforkmedia.com
The experience and emotions tied to listening to Kid A are like witnessing the stillborn birth of a child while simultaneously having the opportunity to see her play in the afterlife on Imax. It's an album of sparking paradox. It's cacophonous yet tranquil, experimental yet familiar, foreign yet womb-like, spacious yet visceral, textured yet vaporous, awakening yet dreamlike, infinite yet 48 minutes. It will cleanse your brain of those little crustaceans of worries and inferior albums clinging inside the fold of your gray matter. The harrowing sounds hit from unseen angles and emanate with inhuman genesis.

Jesus Christ, GET OVER YOURSELF! This is an ACTUAL excerpt from Pitchfork’s review of Radiohead’s Kid A. And just one small excerpt from a completely ridiculous full review. We get it dude, you’re smarter and more cultured than us - so get fucked. Don’t get me wrong, Kid A’s a classic. But evidently when you listened to it, you saw a fucking dead fetus fuck around in the clouds on an Imax screen. So you’re definitely on a different level than the rest of us. And that’s why you work for Pitchfork. And that’s why Pitchfork sucks.


Kings of Leon
What the hell happened here guys? I used to defend the shit out of you and talk about how great you are - and this is how you pay me back? By becoming the Kings of Cock Rock? C’maaaaaaahn. Just another sad example of a great talent cutting their hair short and suddenly becoming awful, i.e. Eddie Vedder, James Hetfield, Dave Grohl, Anthony Kiedis, Keri Russell…this list could go on for pages. Dan Auerbach - you're on a real short leash right now.


The Real World
PSYCH! This show is still the shit. Danny’s hurting though.
Hey Danny, nice fucking decisions for this photo shoot guy! Duck-ass haircut? Check. Rosary beads around the neck? Freshly cropped flavor saver facial hair? Check. Friendship bracelet? Check.


South Park

I have multiple episodes just chillen on the DVR and I don’t have the energy to watch them anytime soon. What used to be a genius show has turned into a competition with themselves to see how quickly they can pump out an episode related to a current event that happened that week. And while I respect that idea, it results in shitty writing, repetition of the same sub-par joke and negative laughs. Haste makes waste South Park. Stop trying to be so fucking current and put a little effort into it!