His lance was hard in his hand, and he was drunk with excitement and anticipation. The shaft was rigid, and seemed to throb with the coming task. He was ready to begin.
He pushed forward, feeling the warm flesh and flexing muscle beneath him. Furiously he rode, faster and faster, until finally, with a guttural yell and a final hard thrust, the climax was upon him, and he knew the warm glow of conquest.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
His opponent lay on the ground, his armor bent and his shield shattered. “Sir Brenor!” said Sir Percival, “Good show! How about a cup of mead and a joint of mutton to celebrate?” “Surely one cannot deny such a fine offer?” said Sir Brenor, and off they went to procure some refreshment and tavern wenches.
(Get your mind out of the gutter, you dirty bastards.)
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Let's Bring Back Natural Selection
So. I bought a little product I'd seen on television. It's one of those toe flex things that's supposed to stretch and exercise your feet. Helps straighten crooked toes. Since I inherited a crooked toe (right next to my pinkie toe) from my father's side of the family, I decided I'd drop a few bucks and try it.
The product itself is simple. You put your toes in it. It's made up of some flexible, silicon looking foam stuff. I'm not sure what it's made of, but it's a lovely sky blue color.
Anywho, there was a small instructional advice pamphlet folded up inside the box. I glanced at it before throwing the packaging away, and what I saw made me weep for the human race.
I present these to you, the first 3 bullet points under the title CAUTION:
* For intended use only
* Do not put shoes on over FLEX-TASTIC, injury may result.
* Do not attempt walking or driving in FLEX-TASTIC. Injury may result. Avoid use on irritated, inflamed or infected skin, or on open wounds. Irritation may result.
So far, so good, right? Nothing much to see here, right?
I give you bullet point numero cuatro:
* DO NOT EAT FLEX-TASTIC. CHOKING OR HEALTH PROBLEMS MAY RESULT.
You read that right, boys and girls. I shit you not. As true as a nun in a chastity belt.
So, my next question is, WHAT THE FUCK?!
Seriously? This was necessary why? Is it a cautionary tale? Did someone actually take a silicony, foam rubbery fucking foot device and try chowing down on it? Choking or health problems may result?! You fucking think so? I'd say you've already got bigger goddamn problems than that, if you're trying to eat something you wear on your feet. Somebody must have, because I sure as shit don't see a similar warning on blenders, or socks, or even crayons.
Have we truly been reduced to this level of absurdity? Is this shit really necessary? The most inane of directions on the most asinine and simplistic of products, because some lonely douchebag looking for a good time takes the belt off a sander and electrocutes himself, after he decides to insert his wangdoodle? True story, that. Directions on toothpicks? Re-goddamn-diculous.
I've often said that you can tell when a civilization has started it's decline, just by watching for the appearance of instructions on shit like shampoo bottles. If you can't figure out how to get shampoo out of a bottle and use it on your head, then you're probably a lemur, a scientologist, or a candidate for retroactive abortion.
A wise man once said, "Take the safety labels off everything, and let natural selection take its course."
Sounds good to me. How soon can we start?
The product itself is simple. You put your toes in it. It's made up of some flexible, silicon looking foam stuff. I'm not sure what it's made of, but it's a lovely sky blue color.
Anywho, there was a small instructional advice pamphlet folded up inside the box. I glanced at it before throwing the packaging away, and what I saw made me weep for the human race.
I present these to you, the first 3 bullet points under the title CAUTION:
* For intended use only
* Do not put shoes on over FLEX-TASTIC, injury may result.
* Do not attempt walking or driving in FLEX-TASTIC. Injury may result. Avoid use on irritated, inflamed or infected skin, or on open wounds. Irritation may result.
So far, so good, right? Nothing much to see here, right?
I give you bullet point numero cuatro:
* DO NOT EAT FLEX-TASTIC. CHOKING OR HEALTH PROBLEMS MAY RESULT.
You read that right, boys and girls. I shit you not. As true as a nun in a chastity belt.
So, my next question is, WHAT THE FUCK?!
Seriously? This was necessary why? Is it a cautionary tale? Did someone actually take a silicony, foam rubbery fucking foot device and try chowing down on it? Choking or health problems may result?! You fucking think so? I'd say you've already got bigger goddamn problems than that, if you're trying to eat something you wear on your feet. Somebody must have, because I sure as shit don't see a similar warning on blenders, or socks, or even crayons.
Have we truly been reduced to this level of absurdity? Is this shit really necessary? The most inane of directions on the most asinine and simplistic of products, because some lonely douchebag looking for a good time takes the belt off a sander and electrocutes himself, after he decides to insert his wangdoodle? True story, that. Directions on toothpicks? Re-goddamn-diculous.
I've often said that you can tell when a civilization has started it's decline, just by watching for the appearance of instructions on shit like shampoo bottles. If you can't figure out how to get shampoo out of a bottle and use it on your head, then you're probably a lemur, a scientologist, or a candidate for retroactive abortion.
A wise man once said, "Take the safety labels off everything, and let natural selection take its course."
Sounds good to me. How soon can we start?
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Entitled Idiots
I wish someone would tell me when we became so thick-headed and inconsiderate as a species.
I know cell phones have hastened our decent into douchebag hell, but it was bad before that.
People park in 2 spots. People park so close, you can't open the door. People hop into the 15 items or less line with 42 items and a sense of entitlement. And that's what it comes down to really, a false sense of entitlement.
I honestly won't go into a public venue within a week of Christmas anymore, because being the person I am, bad things happen. And then I make them worse. Like the time the lady at Wal-Mart ran into my pregnant wife, was a total unapologetic bitch about it, and I had to flip her cart over in the womens' clothing section.
It's not hard people. If your ass measures more than two foot wide, and your friend is not much slimmer, you should probably not walk side by side through the aisles, extolling the virtues of what your sister-in-law uses for her f'ing yeast infection, while I crawl along at a snail's pace, bringing up the rear. You probably shouldn't stand right in the goddamn entryway to the store, yakking into thin air like some inconsiderate bluetoothed schizophrenic.
I walked into a department store bathroom once, the one for family, with the baby changing station and such, and someone had managed to shit on the wall. Don't ask, I don't know how, but it's easier to imagine someone doing the post-defecation electric slide against the wall than it is to picture them fingerpainting with feces. What the hell would possess someone?
I was buying a phone card yesterday, and this woman came walking up, bluetooth headset on, and demanded help in the next aisle. People all over the electronics section, already involved in their shopping, and she waltzes up, headset in full swing, and just shouts for help. Less than a minute later, she was back demanding help in the laptop aisle. I almost told her to go shut the fuck up.
I've had it. I had less stress in my life, and I got far more satisfaction when I was a totally rude bastard. I knew that, no matter how bad their offense, I'd managed to one up them and ruin their day as well. It was justice for all the people who hated these assholes, but they couldn't bring themselves to say anything.
And so, I declare a return to past values. If you're in the way, I will tell your fat, inconsiderate ass to move. If you block an aisle and whimsically smile at all the people you are inconveniencing, watching them wait and fume, I will move it for you. With great rudeness. Park right up against my car, and I will once again use the ballpeen hammer or key of opportunity. Push your full cart of crap into the Express Lane in front of me, knowing I have only a Coke and a Heath bar, and I will question your math skills, your ancestry, your mother's sexuality and her taste for whole boatloads of citrus deprived sailors.
Someone has to teach these assholes, because their parents obviously didn't bother. Common courtesy, the minimum level of manners, consideration for your fellow man, all lacking. The world is what it is, because the lack of repercussions and personal reponsibility have made it that way.
In the old days, if you were a violent jerk who victimized people, you got hung. If you ran your mouth like a total dick, and you couldn't back it up, you got your ass kicked. Our touchy feely, protect everyone's self esteem at all costs, the world owes me everything modern mantra is to blame, and it's about time someone took it back down a notch.
Maybe, just maybe, if someone did their best to deflate just one douchebag a day, the world would start to be a better place again.
I know cell phones have hastened our decent into douchebag hell, but it was bad before that.
People park in 2 spots. People park so close, you can't open the door. People hop into the 15 items or less line with 42 items and a sense of entitlement. And that's what it comes down to really, a false sense of entitlement.
I honestly won't go into a public venue within a week of Christmas anymore, because being the person I am, bad things happen. And then I make them worse. Like the time the lady at Wal-Mart ran into my pregnant wife, was a total unapologetic bitch about it, and I had to flip her cart over in the womens' clothing section.
It's not hard people. If your ass measures more than two foot wide, and your friend is not much slimmer, you should probably not walk side by side through the aisles, extolling the virtues of what your sister-in-law uses for her f'ing yeast infection, while I crawl along at a snail's pace, bringing up the rear. You probably shouldn't stand right in the goddamn entryway to the store, yakking into thin air like some inconsiderate bluetoothed schizophrenic.
I walked into a department store bathroom once, the one for family, with the baby changing station and such, and someone had managed to shit on the wall. Don't ask, I don't know how, but it's easier to imagine someone doing the post-defecation electric slide against the wall than it is to picture them fingerpainting with feces. What the hell would possess someone?
I was buying a phone card yesterday, and this woman came walking up, bluetooth headset on, and demanded help in the next aisle. People all over the electronics section, already involved in their shopping, and she waltzes up, headset in full swing, and just shouts for help. Less than a minute later, she was back demanding help in the laptop aisle. I almost told her to go shut the fuck up.
I've had it. I had less stress in my life, and I got far more satisfaction when I was a totally rude bastard. I knew that, no matter how bad their offense, I'd managed to one up them and ruin their day as well. It was justice for all the people who hated these assholes, but they couldn't bring themselves to say anything.
And so, I declare a return to past values. If you're in the way, I will tell your fat, inconsiderate ass to move. If you block an aisle and whimsically smile at all the people you are inconveniencing, watching them wait and fume, I will move it for you. With great rudeness. Park right up against my car, and I will once again use the ballpeen hammer or key of opportunity. Push your full cart of crap into the Express Lane in front of me, knowing I have only a Coke and a Heath bar, and I will question your math skills, your ancestry, your mother's sexuality and her taste for whole boatloads of citrus deprived sailors.
Someone has to teach these assholes, because their parents obviously didn't bother. Common courtesy, the minimum level of manners, consideration for your fellow man, all lacking. The world is what it is, because the lack of repercussions and personal reponsibility have made it that way.
In the old days, if you were a violent jerk who victimized people, you got hung. If you ran your mouth like a total dick, and you couldn't back it up, you got your ass kicked. Our touchy feely, protect everyone's self esteem at all costs, the world owes me everything modern mantra is to blame, and it's about time someone took it back down a notch.
Maybe, just maybe, if someone did their best to deflate just one douchebag a day, the world would start to be a better place again.
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