Joel McHale

Joel McHale - pn. Host of (reality) T.V. recap show The Soup. Single-handedly bringing the skinny tie back since 2004.

Evil Sciene Update

So I already got a reply back from Evil Science Girl. It seems like an incredibly elaborate spamming, but at this point, it's so much fun that I don't even care.

HURRAY NON-COMMITMENT!

SWF Mad Scientist Seeks Evil Older Lab Assistant

What follows is an actual CraigsList "Missed Connections" personal listed from Binghamton, N.Y. Remember kids, if you're feeling down it's always a good idea to read the CL personals to cheer yourself up.

In Search of Evil Lab Partner and Nefarious Assistant - w4m - 25 (Binghamton)

Date: 2009-05-25, 1:24PM EDT


Evil Laboratory Scientist in search of lab partner to assist in scientific experiments and double blind case studies.

You must look hot wearing a lab coat and adore metal tables. Please have a penchant for caustic acids and know your periodic table of the elements.

The appropriate candidate must be older, refined, and familiar with chemistry. You should also enjoy long evenings in the lab, dancing, and night time scientific epiphanies.

Reply with head shot photo of you looking particularly scientific/nefarious/helpful. Also please list three of your favourite elements in a short essay format detailing which is your most favourite and why.

Thank you for your attention. Serious replies only.


MY REPLY:

To whom it may concern:

I am writing you in response to your posting for a lab assistant on CraigsList on 25 May. I am applying to Evil Graduate School after receiving my BA in Creative Writing with a concentration in Evil Literature and would be greatly interested in adding an internship or extended position with you to my résumé.

I have always had a keen interest in Mad Science. As a child I built elaborate death traps with my Legos and designed flaming ball-launching catapults from the refuse in my local garbage shed. Though my undergraduate work was mostly in Liberal Evil Arts, I can assure you that it's from my passion for intricate plots and machinations. I am a natural whiz with both mathematics – chiefly quantum and astrophysics – and psychology, especially that of heroes, conquerors, and the huddled masses. In addition to exemplary grades in my sciences, I can also sing the first twenty ellements in order to the tune of "Modern Major General" â la Tom Lehrer.

I am younger, 22, but as such am willing to work for practically nothing. A living wage and off-hours lab access is really all I need, as I recently have neared completion of converting my mother's basement into my own lair. I have a videographic memory, so any training I receive will recalled by my cyber implants immediately. I am not a dancer, but given the right combination of liquor and Amazon River neurotoxins I can be persuaded. As for late night epiphanies, I routinely graze wikipedia to keep up to date with recent sourced articles and new developments in subatomic physics, space-time, and multiple dimensionality.


As for my favorite ellements, I would be inclined to list them as carbon, aluminum and aether, with the latter holding a special place in my heart.

Carbon I must list among my favorite ellements as it takes billions of years for a star to burn though all its Hydrogen and Helium and other ellements before Carbon is formed and cast off in supernovae. Moreover, every lifeform is principally constructed of carbon on this planet, and thus it is the easiest method by which to destroy them.

Aluminum I add exclusively because I noticed that you spelled the word "favourite." Aluminum is one of the few ellements whose name in the United States differs from its European English Language equivalent. Thusly, we could already have an running in-joke over the "aluminum/aluminium" debacle.

Still, both these ellements pale in my mind to Aether, the now-defunct theory of the semi-gaseous medium of outer space, thus enabling transmission of particles and electromagnetic waves. Aether represents both the presumptuous folly of man but also the hope that comes with progress and subjugating the weak and stupid beneath one's heal.

In conclusion, while there is something to be said for both differentiation and conformity at times, it is both ironic and inspiring that my favorite ellement is in fact ficticious. At least accrding to those cranks over at NASA.


Attached, please find one of several photos I had lying around. Please note that I can provide my own labcoat, goggles, goatee and eyebrow scar, as well as utility belt, grappling hook, rope, pulleys, and a multitude of modified Nerf guns (not pictured).

I look forward to hearing back from you and am eager to start working in the great and expanding field of Evil Science.


Thank you for your time,

Rev. David "Danger Zone" XXXXXX
InstantRamen86(at)gmail.com

On Politeness

You know, you really feel like a jerk turning down a person's offer of free gum.

I mean what kind of asshole does that? Is it really my fault that I can't stand the taste of mint or spearmint or cinnamon? Is it not punishment enough that I had to use children's toothpaste until I was 18 and they released citrus blends?

What kind of monster am I?

On Shotty Workmanship (Early Thursday)

I bought a book today. Japanese comic. Volume 14 in a 14 volume series that's been running for the better part of a decade. The artist's only drawn maybe one or two volumes a year and for the last three or four years he's been finishing the whole shebang, so after getting a bunch of translations only a few months apart I had to get used to waiting for him to create enough material to get compiled into a book, then Dark Horse gaining the international rights, then translating it, then printing and shipping the bitch.

So what do I find when I read the last volume in this series? Well not only is the art as ambiguous and ill-defined as ever, but the 6th chapter was actually just a reprint of the 5th.

I don't mean to say it was basically the same thing all over again, that's par for the course with this series. No, I mean it was the exact same pages copied over where chapter 6 should have been. Whole big fight scene completely missing from the book. Granted, we all knew where the story was going for years (there was a T.V. series in like 2001 that ended about the same despite them guessing at the ending), but still, there's just a quality of workmanship I expect from the comics I bother to actually pay for.

As a last insult I am stealing the full series off the internet, translated better. I will read the missing chapter, and return the faulty book. I will complain to the company and maybe get a free good copy. If I don't, fuck them all.

Update: I returned the book. The other copy was also in error. Dark Horse has received a very upset form email.

On The Dentist

I went to the dentist today and I actually tend to have a really good time there. The place is quiet, maybe one other patient the whole time I'm there – usually an old grandma – and the dude's pretty laid back. XM Radio's permanently fixed to classic rock and the guy's kids are about my age, so we tend to talk college and generally have a pleasant encounter. I guess it doesn't hurt that I never have any real medical problems.

There's just one thing I don't get, though. I guess the silence is hard to deal with, but if you're going to make smalltalk while cleaning my teeth, why do you pepper it with so many open-ended questions?

I mean yes/no's are cool. I can do hand motions for that. I can even give you a wishy-washy little fag hand wave for "maybe." I'm fuckin awesome like that. I can pantomime with the best of them. I learned how to curse in sign language just for occassions like this, but there's only so much I can do. With two masked individuals hovering over my oral cavity and prodding me with mint-flavored ice picks, I'm not really in the best condition to discuss my thoughts on Catcher In the Rye as a literary achievment. (For the record, I'm PRO Sallinger, ANTI Caufield.)

If you're still puzzling over this, this was the actual conversation:

Dentist: "So my daughter's reading Cather In the Rye now and she's not real big on the reading
… but I don't think there actually IS a movie of that now, so …."
Me: "…"
Dentist: "You ever read Catcher In the Rye?"
Me: "Ueh-heh." [All-vowel affirmative noise]
Dentist: "What'd you think of it??" [Pauses for answer, does not remove tools from my mouth]

On The NEw Frontier

Some man look at the things that are and ask, "Why?"

I look at things that never were and ask, "How the fuck am I seeing this?"

On Textual Seussitude

Fish
Fish Fish
Fish
Fish

Get it?

On Revenge

I think the best way to get back at a guy is to break into his house and take a huge dump in his cat's litter box.

At the very least he's gonna be stuck scoopin' your poo. If you're really lucky, he might think there's something wrong with his cat.

That's a $300 vet visit just to discover someone's mad enough at you to shit in your sandbox.

Idea for Movie

Remake of Highlander, preferably starring Christian Bale a few years down the line from now.

Bale is Connor MacCloud, a 16th century Scottish highlander exiled from his village when he miraculously revives after a fatal accident. Accused of witchcraft, he wanders the wilderness until he is found by the stately Ramirez, a man who reveals they are both immortal members of the human race, destined to fight each other to the last man throughout time. Originally an Egyptian-turned-Spaniard played by Scotsman Sean Connery, Ramirez could easily be recast as Liam Nieson, more easily explaining his appearance in Western Europe, but anyone awesome and older would fill this odd role just as easily.

Following a good 20 minutes of training and dialogue basically lifted from Batman Begins, the evil Kurgan comes and rapes/kills MacCloud's wife, and then decapitates Ramirez in ImMortal Kombat. Connor cries and such. Time skip to present day.

MacCloud has reinventeted himself many times, now residing in NYC as an art dealer under an assumed name. Some chick takes an interest in him under the pretext of uncovering the smuggling opperation that she assumes supplies his immaculate lost treasures. Despite this, they develop a romantic relationship. Durring the course of her investigation she discovers via computer records and old photographs that he is hundreds of years old. She confronts him and they fuck wildly.

Meanwhile, The Kurgan has arrived in NY and has been slaughtering immortals: a homeless man, an out-of-shape jewish butcher who fights with a scimitar or something?, and an effeminate european museum currator with a fencing foil. When he kills them lightning errupts and really cool effects happen.


You know what? This is pointless. You all know the movie. It just sucks because the '80s were kind of awful, the effects were rather awful, the acting/actors were awful save Kurgan, and the sequels were so awful they negated the awesome-factor of having Sean Connery there, as incongruous as he was.

Basically, I just wanna update the movie by including good effects, the instantaneous telecommunications crap and good, attractive actors. Also, I wanna throw in some of the better mythos from the later crap I only half-understand and then end without The Prize/Quickening. Maybe by becoming more powerful MacCloud could start to "feel" other immortals around him and realize that there are larger fights yet to come. It'd set up a whole new franchize with a killer action movie as a remake no one expects.

HOLLYWOOD GIVE ME MONEY PLEASE.

On Harper Lee (Make-Up Post)

There should be a band named "Boo Radley." They would ostensibly be an emo band that exclusively cover's songs by Atticus and Finch.

This band must not be confused with The Boo Radleys, an early-'90s British indie band that also appealed to sad children, just sad British children.

Where'd I Go Just Now?

I've been home for 7 hours and I'm already angry that I'm not living in a loft apartment in the city with several other attractive 20-somethings working at bizarrely high-paying jobs and becoming befuddlingly romantically entangled.

Goddam system…

On Angering the Gods

I almost escaped Binghamton. I also almost felt sad about it. Then Binghamton decided to drop down to 38˚ last night. It's 61 now, but my room still feels like absolute-zero-plus-three.

On Graduating College

I graduated from college yesterday, Phi Beta Kappa and Magna Cum Laude with a B.A. in Creative Writing.

As if to signify my un-desire to grow up and my future job prospects, the t-shirt I wore today bares the apt announcement, "Everything is ruined forever."


[PLUG: Visit Questionable Content for more hilarity and indie music.]

On Miniatures

People always like things that are just smaller versions of regular things. Breakfast pastries, electronics, golf.

But sometimes I look at a fly and I think, "Oh shit, that little thing has all the same organs I do; a heart and a stomach and gastrointestinal, nervous and pulmonary systems," and I freak out a little.

Then I found out that flies are basically fluid filled sacs and everything just sort of sloshes around inside them, and then I feel a little let down by the standard example that always spawns this line of thought.

Then I think of a baby and I think, "Oh shit, that little thing has all the same organs I do."

On Shower Curtains … Seriously? I already have a post with that title? That's ridiculous.

So our old shower curtain is doubled over and is missing the last two rings, as well as pretty much encrusted with the same lichenous fungi that covers our ceiling.

And me, being the nice guy I am, decided that my mother's credit card would happily pay for a new curtain and rings, sort of a going-away present for the house from me.

At the store, after a lengthy and upsetting search I will not go into, the choice of vinyl shower curtains came down to yellow duckies or blue penguins. Now I love penguins; this is a given. However rubber duckies are a classic. Still, duckies are a bit clichéd, whereas penguins are actually a pretty apt commentary on what it feels like to take a shower with sub-standard plumbing held together by duct tape in the basement that leaks all over our drier and I know because I was the one who fixed the fix-it guy's patch job.

Also, Binghamton is fucking cold. Penguins are cold.

I was pretty happy with the choice until I realized I'd have to defend it to the plebians. People hate to think for their jokes. That's why Reba is still on the air.

I went with the duckies and I was repeatedly thanked for choosing something so hipster-chique.

On Trekkies

To be honest, I don't give a crap about Star Trek, but I'll watch anything featuring time travel all alternate realities. That's how I got sucked into TNG and Voyager and that one episode of DS9, and by God I'll watch this new movie illegally online with 15% of the screen cropped off.

I'm just sick of these reviews being either "A+++ AWESOME MOVIE, BRO! EXPLOSIONS MICHAEL BAYE WOULD BE PROUD!" or "FUCKING RUINED TREK [massive spoiler] FUCK ABRAMS UP THE CLOVERFIELD."

Guys, I get it. You're upset it's resetting the continuity, or rather you're upset they're shifting which continuity is known to the masses and suddenly all your geek trivia might mean less because Joe Fuckhead in Jersey knows just as much about the new Kirk as you do. Relax. You still got your geek cred. The original shit will not disappear because there's a new black chick out there in red spandex. It's oh-kay.

God, see, this is why people don't like you. You've got a major case of phaser-up-the-butt.

At least Star Wars nerds acknowledge our universe was ruined by its creator. We accepted it and moved on and we still get to play with our flashlights in a darkened basement. Go put on a red shirt and joke about how many Cardassians it takes to change a plasma conductor or something.

It's a movie, Jim, not a miracle worker.

Funny Thing #318

When the internet goes down our society really doesn't know what to do with ourselves.

I mean FUCK IT'S NOT LIKE I HAVE ANY HARD COPY PORN LYING AROUND.



P.S. "Hard copy."

P.P.S. Yes I know it's stupid to have a post-script without an actual signature. Shut up.

I played Little League as basically a part of my parents' divorce terms. That and Jew school back-to-back on Sundays were the bane of my week.

Of course they stuck me on my Dad's friend's team, and we were the worst team in the league, which aggravated his gout constantly. Remember how the Mighty Ducks gave their first coach a coronary from sucking? That was us. With rich food.

But one year, we totally walloped the best team in the league in a first round playoff upset. We made kid's fuckin' cry, bro. Like 12 year olds. Big ones. With clubs.

Man, that was a great game.

More On Nerf Guns

Let's just say if there's ever an outbreak of soft, foamy zombies easily killed by suction cups, I'm the guy you want to join up with.

Also, anyone who has a bunch of dildos.

Sunday: On Raccoons

People say raccoons look like little robbers with their masks on.

But I ask you, why try so hard to look like a criminal? What is the raccoon really after? If not a criminal, what does he gain by posing as one? What underworld connections might he acquire and for what purpose has he given up his own protection by the law to achieve?

He is the hero we do not even know we need. He is the raccoon.

On Hypochondria

They say, "An apple a day keeps the doctor away."


I find letter bombs just as effective.

On Nazi Sons of Bitches

My friend's boyfriend has this new(?) habit of jumping on her IM and replying to me without necessarily saying it's not her.

I wouldn't really mind, but he's also gotten in the habit of insulting me pretty flatly. Some pretty graphic and insane stuff, too. Oh, did I mention he's a Nazi?

Yeah. He's kind of a Nazi. Apparently he doesn't hate all Jews. Einstein was cool. But yeah, Jews.

Tonight he claimed only Jews are born with foreskins and that he risks being sent to a concentration camp just by telling me. I don't even really know what to say to something like that. I mean, for one thing he's either just insane or actually a really really funny racist.

I think the real problem is just that I hate all organized religion but can't say anything because that would tacitly accept the hypothesis that Jews are by nature inferior in some way.

Honestly, if this keeps up I might have to call Mossad, since all Jewish boys keep them on speed dial 5769-5770. (It changes about half-way through your Aryan year.)

On Ftting Ends

Tomorrow is my last day of classes ever (in theory).

It's 3 hours of parties with Ryan Vaughan, the Pillsbury Dough Boy of professors.

Then I have four days to write a 7-10 page paper about comic books.


Clearly, after that I starve to death in my mother's basement.

On Irony, Pt. 2

Surprisingly, the popularity of knock-knock jokes has not been adversely affected by the advent of the doorbell.


Man 1: Knock-knock
Man 2: "Who's there?"
Man 1: "Doorbell repairman."
Man 2: "Doorbell repairman who?"
Man 1: "Seriously?"

Of Serendipidy

It's fun to run into a person on the street if you just recently masturbated to pictures of them on social networking sites.

It's like knowing something about the both of you that they don't.

(Monday)

It was only a matter of time: www.mylifeisg.com. When FMyLife get's you down, MyLifeIsG picks you right back up.

Always a Good Day

Any day when I wake up to find Shaun of the Dead playing on Comedy Central is a good day.

Thing That Annoys Me #313

Cookie Crisp: It's cookies for breakfast.

I'm cool with giving kids milk and cookies as a breakfast. You want them to inherit your trailer and cinder blocks, after all.

No, my beef is with the advertising team. At some point it wasn't cool to have a Cookie Cop constantly catching a Cookie Crook and his canine compatriot Chip.

First they ditched the Crook and had Chip running solo, which I can dig. Its the Scooby Doo and Scrappy Adventures of the breakfast mascot world. Fine. But then they went and reformed Chip. Instead of a cookie-loving sneak thief in prison stripes, now he is a pantless wolf in an itchy red sweater. You can actually see it itch.

Old Chip and the Cocoa Crispy Bear must be rolling in their 5-grain graves.

Of Sexiness

I went out last night with a couple friends after work nd we hit up this local place called The Ale House.

During the night I went to order my female lady person a cranberry and vodka.

Plastered, she looks at the bartender and says, "NO. JACK AND COKE." Then she turned to me with this hammered/assertive look on her face and said, "WHAT?"

That shit was HOT.