Archive for July, 2007

Utter BS

Monday, July 30th, 2007

This is a great story, but seriously, it was an accident?

THE call letters KUNT have landed at a yet-unbuilt low-power digital television station in Wailuku, Maui.

The same station owner also received KWTF for a station in Arizona.

Wow, that’s amazing. The same company requested two humorous and borderline obscene sets of call letters. It couldn’t have been on purpose or anything.

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Insulting Haiku

Sunday, July 29th, 2007

your stench hits my eyes
like battery acid. Christ,
go stink somewhere else

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I Think I Probably Know These Guys

Friday, July 27th, 2007

It’s been entirely too long since I’ve blogged. In fact, it’s getting to the point where I’m not 100% sure I can still read and write. Bhan loont rarjar. See? To that end, I’m going to write a quick blog entry in advance of my review of Transformers. To that end, I present you with a hastily-written, half-assed blog entry. Selah.

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Insulting Haiku

Sunday, July 22nd, 2007

trailer park cracker
four dead cars in your backyard
screw your sister much?

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On Drugs And Candy

Thursday, July 19th, 2007

I was searching Youtube for a specific commercial the other day. Being a fairly new one, I actually had some difficulty finding it. However, I began to notice a trend that can only point to one possible conclusion: Citrus candies are loaded with peyote. I decided to explore this some more, and to post something about it, with five of the more bizarre commercials. Unfortunately, there’s no way I can choose only five. To that end, we’re looking at a top ten list. Yeah I know; originality abounds.

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The Big Fix

Wednesday, July 18th, 2007

Saw this at a local music/book/movie store. Now I’m no veterinarian, but isn’t that the ass? I mean sure, I know there are other parts there, but if that’s the only thing under the bandages, where’s the ass?

The horror<br />
… the horror…


And is it just me, or did someone forget to warn the cat before it happened? She seems a bit non-plussed.

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Dear Myspace

Monday, July 16th, 2007

Look, I know we haven’t always gotten along as well as we could have. You’ve created a platform by which some of the ugliest web pages in history have been created. Now, I’m no designer (exhibit A: this site), but I know bad design when I see it, and you are it. In the past, I’ve used phrases like “big, steaming load” and “weeping abscess” to describe my feelings about the look and usability of the site. The constant barrage of spam messages, comments, and friend requests, along with the frequent technical error pages is both annoying and unnecessary. The community is chock full of fake profiles, sexual predators, and the most vacuous people on the face of the earth. My wonder at your exponential growth is eclipsed only by my surprise that I actually use you.

Today, that’s all forgotten, and all I’ve got for you is thank you. Don’t be all coy. You know what you did, and I appreciate it. You didn’t have to, which simply adds to the awesome. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Tomorrow, you suck again.

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Insulting Haiku

Sunday, July 15th, 2007

yo mamma so fat
she cut her leg shaving and
gravy come out. Word.

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Well, It Was Some Kind Of Education

Friday, July 13th, 2007

In 8th grade, I had Coach S. for history. He was sometimes out on days that had major sporting events (a fairly common occurrence in a Texas junior high) scheduled, in order to prepare, or whatever they had to do. We had a substitute who was not unfamiliar to us. For some ridiculous reason, she decided she was going to teach us, and proceeded to deliver a lecture on American History (pre-Reconstruction). We were all a little skeptical, and a little cheesed off, because a substitute means an hour of paid vacation for the students. She was violating the order of things, committing a sin against nature. Alfredo was ready; he knew what he had to do. The first time she asked if we had any questions, his hand shot up. The whole class did a kind of synchronized double-take. When called upon, he very clearly and he very loudly, asked, “What’s a clit?”

Boom, Alfredo’s on his way to the office, but his head was high. He’d done a noble thing, and preserved a way of life. There would be no history learned that day, no dangerous precedents set. The substitute was broken, and spent the rest of the class sitting at the desk, glaring at us.

She never did tell us what a clit is.

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Nightmare Fuel Redux

Thursday, July 12th, 2007

Israeli student film. It’s nearly 7 minutes, but well worth it. Seriously, have I ever steered you wrong?

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