On Motorcycles

I want to get my motorcycle driver's license.

I've looked into it and the permit would cost me maybe 2 hours and $21. I'd then have up to 2 years to learn and take my road test. I even know the bike I want, but at it's simplest I just want the ability to drive a bike at a moment's notice.

The weird thing is I keep seeing references to motorcycles in places I never have before. Even my mother jumped at the idea when she found out how cheap even a factory-new bike with insurance would be after the savings in gas mileage.

I twisted my head up to the sky and aimed by voice to the heavens. "Really?" I said. "Really?"

God, apparently, wants me to ride a motorcycle. Go figure.

On Old People Driving

I was stuck behind an old Grand Marquis today, going about five miles an hour, signaling way too early and pulling through turns slower than the plot progression in a Peter Jackson movie.

But while I was stuck behind this woman as she let her barely-ambulatory husband out of the car in the fire lane of the local produce shack I was fortunate enough to notice that some witty soul had vandalized this old woman's car, removing the letters R, Q, U, I and S from "GRAND MARQUIS." I was following a Mercury Grandma.

New Joke of the Day

My career prospects.

Seriously, I'm gonna become a webcomic artist if I don't wanna starve to death.

On Orange Juice and A Cookie

So apparently you can't give blood if you've had gay sex.

Makes me wonder how far some people would go for a fear of needles.

Just trade one poke for another.

On Adulthood

I keep a disco ball hanging from my ceiling, in the same way I have a red lava lamp back home. It's all about adding a touch of class to the room.

On Life Choices

I've decided not to make them.

I've determined I'm going to freak out about not having any job prospects, but it won't bother me because that's the correct reaction for an English major in this economy (or any).

I will balance selling out just enough to survive with refusing to do anything I don't believe in, trading off as often as necessary.

I will ultimately like to make a shitload on something when I'm young, then mooch off that while I do absolutely nothing. If I get an accountant it'd be wicked sweet.

I plan on getting hit by a bus before 35, if I don't die of cancer by 28. After that it's surprise disease at 43 or I live forever.

Yes, truly I finally have everything all planned out.

On Marijuana

I just saw an ad for "Above the Influence," the latest anti-dope-smokin' ad campaign.

Apparently these people believe children are above the influence of an inanimate plant but not their own advertising division.

That much follows, but it leaves the question of what's more dangerous a little too open.

Something for Everyone

Here is a sex toy for white boys who want to tap J-Lo's tremendous and insured ass. Sure, it's a thin bag of plastic with jagged seams and eyebrows made with a Sharpie, but it is married to Enrique Iglesias.

Still, somewhere there's a person this thing is based on, so I guess THE POWER OF IMAGINATION is enough to get someone through those seventeen seconds of awkward thrusting before they or the doll pop.




Here is a sex toy designed for people so lonely they have passed beyond the realm of desiring compliant lovers, into the realm of fanboyish obsession for lovers so compliant they are fictional. Not just in that, "I know she's not real but her vagina is totally molded to be just like her!" sort of way. No, here we're talking "I know she's not real and that's the point." I can understand some level of attraction for a specific character, something emotionally dynamic and well known, but this is a soulless, storyless cum dump for overweight and out-of-work post-grads who mooch off their parents, the hikikomori of Japan come to mind.






This one I totally get.

There Are No Athiests In A Foxhole

Some douchebag admitted to skipping out on bail after murdering his neighbor 30 years ago, as he thought the stroke he was having would be fatal.

Modern medicine saved his life and he is now recovering.

When he was feeling better they arrested him and he is awaiting trial.


What an asshole.

Depressing Fact of Life #316

As a dairy product, the official shelf-life of a Twinkie snack cake is only two weeks.


Unrelated but in correlation, this is also about as long as you can safely eat lunch meat.

On Sexual Equality

I think, in the interest of fairness, women should begin saying "No lesbo" after complimenting each other.

"Like, oh, my god! Those pants make your ass look, like, perfect! Oh! No lesbo! TEE-HEE-HEE!"

This also has the added benefit of clearly denoting simple girl-compliments from the very similar but pronouncedly hotter ambiguously homoerotic pseudo-compliment, the introductory dialogue by which roving bands of biker dyke undercover lesbians surreptitiously lure in the unsuspecting prey that is our womenfolk and tempt them into the sick and satanic soul-sucking Saphic rituals that seriously look pretty hot I mean not in like the cool man/woman missionary-with-the-lights-off sort of way, but somethin pretty cool too like maybe if I were a woman I'd enjoy the soft, supple touch of another woman as she took me in her arms and tells me I'm special and makes me feel so good so, so good….

Broseph Geobles

pn. - Term of endearment that succinctly and correctly combines Broism and Nazi reference.

True Advice My Father Gave Me

My father once told me over his fourth glass of whiskey – at my little brother's bar-mitzvah –
"Son, sexual attraction … in any relationship – even a brief one – is directly proportional to mutual respect.…Except in this case."

Seriously, I have to get him to stop talking about my "cousins" this way.

Joke of the Day

Women's Rights.


My friend, Jay, told that at a punk show in a dyke bar when the band let him do the sound check.
Needless to say, he didn't stay for the first number.

On the Wonders of Rum

I just realized that Captain Morgan is perhaps the most badass motherfucker of all time.

I mean just look at him, with his pimped-out threads and his cocksure swagger. That's a dude who's going home with your girlfriend tonight.

And he knows it.

On Exchange Rates

For the second time in my life I received a Canadian Penny along with my change from a restaurant, and I started to get mad, only to stop and realize the exchange rate is now in my favor.

FUCK YEAH BRING IT ON CAPITALISM I GOT YOUR LUCRATIVE EXCHANGE POLICY RIGHT HERE.

On Matchmaking

Really, I'm just looking for a girl who can look me in the eyes and honestly say, "I love you."

And if she could follow that with, "Now cum on my face," that'd be great too.


"Put it in my pooper," will be immediately replied by a marriage proposal.


Well, maybe not immediately.

The Procrastinator's Prayer

Dear Lord, please in your infinite graces and power
To strike down my incompetent superiors
For their inability to request a reasonable amount of work
In reasonable time.

May they be repeatedly fucked in the ear by your power
And develop a wicked-harsh ear infection
From which I shall gain the time to meet unreasonable requests.
For thine is the power, and the glory, and the ear-fucking
Forever and ever. Amen.

On Feeling Terrible

I routinely get massive stomach/back/total body cramps and pains and feelings of death when I wear one of my old favorite shirts. It possibly constricts blood flow. This is a disturbing thought.

Or, it might just be that I had a horrible meeting today and then ran off and the only thing I had to eat today was the LARGEST CINABON EVER and then I flopped on my bed with an awful backrest and now my body is telling me to stop being a fat lazy fuck and eat some goddamn vegetables.

Or, you know, the shirt thing.

On Chauvinism

Chauvinism exists because men spend 98% of their sexual potency trying to fail at forcing the seed of life into another human being, celebrating heartily the narrow victories. Women, however, spend 1/4 of their sexual potency bleeding out a permanent gash between their legs for the same reason.

On Marxism

Classic Zuckerist Criticisms of Marxist Philosophy:

1) Karl Marx wrote in a time before American and European Progressive movements forced democracies to reign in monopolistic companies and assert the rights of workers not to be exploited, thus negating the inevitability of capitalism in a true first-world democratic state would forcing a workers' revolution.

2) Marx explains his socialist and communist revolutions in how they "will" happen "when" man is ready for it to happen. Progressivism canceling out the impetus for the first, the second revolution would otherwise be stopped by man's inability to remain equal and no better than his neighbor, and flies in the face of the entire structure of the social contract and the biological imperatives it stems from. Man will always desire to do less for more and to be have more than his fellows.

3) WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THAT STUPID FUCKING BEARD ANYWAY?

Thing That Annoys Me #615

Taking a dump after taking a nice hot shower.

On Mass-Mailing

This week I got mail desiring my presence in a training program for the marines.

This joke is only funny if you're seen me. Even once.

Thought of the Day:

Richard Dean Anderson is possibly the worst person to bring to a bondage club.

On Fate

I never really worried about dying in some kind of horrible accident.

I always just kind of assumed if I were ever in real danger an Austrian robot would come back from the future to save me.

And yet I'm still worried I'll be killed by a speeding bus, somehow.

On Poetry

I've been working on this a little, ever since Ryan Vaughan made the off-hand comment that one could not and probably should not write porn as if Shakespeare wrote porn.

*Please note: the following is in ABBA iambic pentameter.


But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the pizza boy! Alack! I am
without cash or credit to pay the man,
And lo', they do not accept traveler's cheques.

Good sir, I cannot for this pizza pay,
Yet still I crave some Italian sausage.
So to cut the long and extra verbiage,
Might we settle my debt some other way?
- Cue porno muzak

'm not really sure where to go from there, as the only foreseeable dialogue would include the stunned arrivals of the pool boy and cable guy. I could perhaps narrate what is happening as the actors are sexing each other, but that's a lot of work and I don't have time right now. Needless to say, the phrase "That doesn't go in there!" would have to be worked in. Leave comments on what you'd expect/like to read in the continuation.

*Edit: At some point since I posted this, I included the following verse:

The Pizza Man asked me, "How old are you?"
And with baited breath and on bended knee,
Replied I, "Good Sir, I am just eighteen,"
And then gobbled his taught and turgid tool.

Sexretary

Sexretary – n. An attractive woman who is hired to assist an executive my taking messages, answering phones, sorting, filing and spreading her legs at least three times per week.

On The Waffle Breakfast Sandwich

Here's how the meeting for this went down:

"Hey, guys, so do we have any headway on the McGriddle Nullification Project?"

"Yes, sir! Meet the Waffle Breakfast Sandwich!"

"Great! It's got egg?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Cheese?"

"Yup!"

"Bacon?"

"Uh-huh!"

"And it's on a waffle, now?"

"Yes, sir!"

"So how do you get the maple syrup on it? Dunkers?"

"Oh, golly, no, sir! The syrup's baked right in!"

"… So it's a McGriddle."

"Oh, no, sir! It's a Waffle sandwich."

"Right, but it's exactly what's in a McGriddle."

"But with waffles. Yes, sir."

"So the key difference is the shape of the bread?"

"Yes, sir."

"And how far away is McDonalds from attaining this syrup-injected waffle technology."

"Very close, sir, but we believe they've yet to test it on a live mammal."

"… alright. Make the call. We can have this out by morning and snag the copyright. Good work, gentlemen. "

"Sir, might I recommend we move quickly into production so that R&D can begin focusing on the mini-muffin project."

"Are they mini'd yet?"

"We're hoping for to discover a micro-muffin within the year, but the detection technology is just too far behind."

"Well I promise you, Thomson, if this waffle thing pulls through for you you'll be getting a substantial budget boost. Let's see those Biscotti big-wigs over at the European agency compete with that."

I Have To Share This, Though Not Really Comedy

So I recently made a post about Pluto not really being a planet even though it still totally is.

Well some crazy bitch from LiveJournal – LAURELE, let's not quibble over how famous you want to become, dear – decided to reply to my blog. Apparently she runs a journal dedicated entirely to the status of Pluto as a planet. I assume she trolls through Blogger searches every day looking for "Pluto + Planet," because I have no idea who the fuck she is and she clearly is unaware that this is a comedy blog (which speaks either quite highly of her stupidity or quite poorly of my level of hilarity [That's absolute magnitude • comedy, for you astronomy nerds.])

If I may, such that everyone see this and understand the precarious nature of Pluto as a planet, I will now post said reply here in it's entirety (in bold) with my own added annotations.


Actually, Pluto IS a planet. Wasn't my whole point that it was? What are you arguing again?
The whole question depends on how one defines planet, and this is still very much up for debate. Fine, I didn't actually mention this, as it's implicit in my stating that the IAU just changed the definition. The IAU definition was adopted by only four percent of its members, most of whom are not planetary scientists. And yet it was still officially adopted by everyone who bothered to vote. It was rejected by hundreds of professional astronomers in a petition led by Dr. Alan Stern, Principal Investigator of NASA's New Horizons mission to Pluto. And yet this has nothing to do with the people who actually voted.

Stern and like-minded scientists favor a broad planet definition in which a planet is defined as any non-self-luminous spheroidal body orbiting a star. The problem the IAU had with this definition is that it forces the inclusion of current dwarf planets, moons, and various other large masses. By that definition, Pluto is very much a planet. This was kind of my argument already. We can distinguish between types of planets through use of subcategories such as terrestrial planets, gas giants, ice giants, dwarf planets, etc. This is actually exactly what I facetiously proposed.

The requirement that an object clear its neighborhood to be considered a planet was arbitrarily imposed by this tiny percent of the IAU (read: "Everyone who voted in a close decision between an okay definition and a shitty one.") and is not accepted by Stern and many other scientists as a necessary condition for planethood. Seriously? Are you like married to this Stern guy? I get that he's the foremost Pluto-fangirl but Christ, you talk about him like he's, well, Christ.

However, a logical solution would be to establish dwarf planets as a subclass of planets (This is exactly what I'm saying it already is. Hence the second word in "dwarf planet." Seriously, how does someone manage to grasp a basic understanding of planetary classification systems and somehow manage to avoid an understanding of sarcasm?)that are spherical but do not gravitationally dominate their orbits. That would satisfy both dynamical and geophysical criteria.

Thank you, you crazy, crazy bitch. Honestly, I usually find space-nerd chicks pretty hot. I'm probably the only kid who had a basic understanding of relativistic time dilation by age 4. No kidding.

Still, I gotta say I also like my crazy bitches with more of a sense of humor than an actual moon rock. So, dear Laurele, I sincerely hope that the International Astronomical Union makes a bold announcement in the near future, that not only is a dwarf planet officially (and not just obviously) a type of planet, but that following their immediate study the first core samples of Plutonian surface ice are to be transported directly into your reproductive orifice, as you clearly have a massive hard-on for Pluto.


[Editor's Note: Don't fuck with me on astronomy. If we're going to call it anything, Pluto is technically the progenitor of a separate subset of dwarf planets, the Plutinoids, bodies with icy cores that can be spheroidal at lower masses than terrestrial or gaseous planets. So fuck you, Pluto. Fuck all the non-Ferris-cored Trans-Neptunian Objects who think they can muscle their way into planethood by puttin' on airs. You're like the asshole who goes to the gym and gets ripped by pumping heavy weights but can't lift a damned couch because he didn't do any cardio or strength training. You're all surface and all for show. You got no heart, Pluto.]

Things That Are Delicious (Selections)

#1 Cake
#2 Candy
#6 Revenge
#9 Irony
#14 Victory
#22 Boobs
#37 Asian fetish porn
#64 That time you ran into your ex at the mall when your new girlfriend was laughing and playing with your collar and your ex looked like crap because she had a cold and her grandma had just died and you felt bad but then you remembered what a bitch of a whore she was and you promised to call her to hang out some time but you totally blew her off.
#88 Custard

Belated Tuesday Update

I spent much of the last 3 days completely re-reading the first webcomic I ever read, including the 2 updates from the last 3 years. Amazing, I know.

In lieu of a regular update, have a completely unoriginal wallpaper I designed.
(You'll note at least one entendre, perhaps two. Also, he looks a lot happier with blue eyes.)

Time Traveling Keanu Reaves Arrives From Future

Claims in every major franchise, ruins everything you loved.

DNA testing has revealed that the man who exited a sparking telephone booth in the middle of the Rose Bowl last season claiming to be Keanu Reaves, is in fact the future incarnation of the Hollywood A-Lister. Or at least one incarnation, experts say.

To be fair, this is probably only one possible future Keanu. "As we understanded, time branches out at every possible outcome," Professor Carlin says. "So by coming back in time, Mr. Reaves might have created a parallel world in which everything ever is altered by his arrival. There could very well be an infinite number of Keanai in the universe."

Confronted by this troubling possibility, the professor quickly added, "Unless he was supposed to come back, of course. Then he just has to remember to do everything he's supposed to do without fail until he was supposed to come back, then do that and not do anything else he wasn't supposed to do unless he wasn't supposed to do that."

Pressed for comment on the matter, present-day Mr. Reaves was reported only as saying, "WOAH," before starring at his hand. For ten minutes.

Full Circle

Colombia/Tristar has already tapped Reaves to star in a bio-pic about himself. Reaves will portray his current self, while all scenes taking place in the future will be shot on-location in the interveening decades.

The film is slated for a Summer, 2067 release date.

Elder Reaves is already in negotiations to act as time-consultant, with an executive producer credit. Michael Bay is already attached to direct; soundtrack by Wild Stallions.

On Prosperity

For the first time in my life I shall be receiving a tax refund.

What shall I be doing with my massive windfall of over $110, you ask? The answer is simple: Splurging to support the economy.

I have purchased a shirt online which will be taxed. I have also placed eBay bids on a rare and out-of-print vinyl single by a band I like, as well as a pair of badass mad scientist goggles to go with my lab coat, though these items will not likely be taxed at any point. (Conversely, the eBay sellers will take that money and pay their own bills, which will then revitalize something something something.)

I also plan on doing a little shopping for fancy clothes using coupons I was given, thus enabling me to look 1.67% snazzier on a daily basis or 56% snazzier in a single job interview.