On which the world sees the first meeting of the Polar Bear Club as 1,500+ men, women and children take an impromptu dip in the North Sea.
We understand. Your lust for easy credit, malt liquor and Scratch ‘Em tickets has left you and your family in a not-inconsiderable financial bind. Naturally, your first inclination is to recoup the money by selling some of your property. However, what do you do when your home is on its third of fourth mortgage, your car is worthless and no one else seems to see the value in your Many Faces of Bob Saget collectors plates?
Why, sell Grandma’s place of course! The place is too big for her now, and anyway, when you were a kid, she said something about maybe leaving you part of the house someday, so you’re just being financially prudent by realizing your investment before the housing market takes a further tumble. Grandma will no doubt enjoy being able to tell all the other inmates in her new, state-funded institution how her darling grandchild is a financial whiz. Everybody wins!
I hate those people who love to tell you
Money is the root of all that kills
They have never been poor
They have never had the joy of a welfare Christmas
Sometimes a noble and worthwhile notion becomes lost within the confines of a hidebound maxim, its actual truth rendered forfeit to inflexible dogma. Among many such maxims is the old chestnut, “Money is the root of all evil.”
It’s easy enough to believe. We’ve all known accounts of children who go hungry for want of money to buy food, and have perhaps been victims of theft ourselves, and know the hurt that greed can bring. A big wad of cash, after all, is enough to end a life. Conversely, we must also remember that money can save a life, or many lives. Money can be used to buy food for that starving child. Money is a tool, and more than that, a concept; it is not evil in and of itself.
To demonstrate money’s relative innocence in human evil, one has only to imagine Adolf Hitler, universally regarded as a wicked, wicked man. Hitler, although regularly used as a yardstick against by which various dictators, as well as to the last two American presidents, have been measured, was a uniquely iniquitous person, despicable enough to make even the devil blush. But for all his epic malignancy, there aren’t too many people who will argue that Hitler was in it to turn a profit. Quite the opposite, in fact. It has been demonstrated time and time again that the abrupt removal of Jewish people from the community leads to an immediate and catastrophic implosion of the economy.
At least 99% of television commercials are mind-numbing horseshit. That Madison Avenue pitchmen are able not only able to part consumers from their hard-earned cash for products they want and need, but also to concoct and sell products for which there was previously no need, is a testament both to their skill and to the credulity of the purchasing public. However, occasionally these advertising geniuses use their talents to such unspeakable ends that we are forced to take notice. A recent example of this type of airwave abortion is Jack In The Box’s odious I Love Bacon.
The commercial’s premise is fundamentally flawed, assuming that the “I” watching the advertisement does indeed love the sodium-saturated snap of sizzling swineflesh. Gentle readers, be assured that this “I” most certainly does not enjoy this artery-stuffing repast, refusing to pollute his body with the filthy swine. We have watched with growing horror as America’s ongoing flirtation with the pig has recently blossomed into romance, leaving in its greasy wake a host of bacon-themed products, including the faddishly inedible bacon sundae.
Moreover, this commercial may rankle those groups, most notably Jews and Muslims, whose faith proscribes pork products of any kind. These commercials will most likely not prove any more offensive to Jews (some who may secretly indulge their own love of bacon in a neighborhood with low synagogue-saturation), who after centuries of persecution have learned to discern actual threats from those matters which simply cause the bunching of panties. The Muslim community, however, has of late gained a good deal of traction from the notion that if something is perceived as offensive to the faith, then it should be seen by no one. This could prove problematic for Jack In The Box, as pig-meat is among the many, many things Muslims find ritually unclean and therefore mortally offensive.
It is not often we find ourselves in complete agreement with anachronistic fundamentalist wackos with nasty beards, but today is one of those rare times. By even joking about marriage between a man and a food product, Jack In The Box sets a dangerous standard. Rather than the clever commercial it pretends to be, Jack In The Box’s I Love Bacon campaign is a dangerous incitement to America’s impressionable youth, telling them it’s perfectly okay to grow up to be a pig-fucker.
Atlanta Braves, Baseball, douchebaggery, George Sherrill, incompetent boobery, Los Angeles Dodgers, San Francisco Giants, Seattle Mariners, Smaktakula's hatred of the San Francisco Giants, that shitty beard too!
Sorry southpaw suckass George Sherrill has returned to the West Coast, once again in a Mariners uniform. It is perhaps fitting that Seattle is picked by most experts to come in dead last in the American League West, so Sherrill’s dependable incompetence and area code-sized ERA should prove less an embarrassment than it would to a good team, such as the 2010 Dodgers, for whom he was able to demonstrate his shittiness in games which mattered.
And, although we need hardly point it out again, this home run deliveryman has two first names. And one of ’em’s girly.
It’s been an awful long time since anyone was afraid of the Italians. In recent history–the 19th, 20th and now 21st Centuries, Italy has stumbled from one embarrassing episode to another–dictators, side-switching in both World Wars and a series of dysfunctional governments have been among the highlights.
Juxtaposing modern Italy with its historical progenitor brings the problem into sharp contrast. The Romans were true historical badasses, imposing their culture and indelible historical stamp throughout the Mediterranean and Europe, and were brazen enough to successfully campaign for the Vatican after putting to death the only Son of God Almighty. Rome’s might was built around the crimson-clad ranks of the Legion, and displayed in such violent spectacle as the life-and-death battles between gladiators.
In today’s Italy, those same proud gladiators and legionaries are but pale facsimiles of their brutal ancestors who revelled in driving their foes before them, wading though sticky rivers of blood as broad as the Rubicon. Now, these ghosts of Rome’s glory haunt the broken ruins so often frequented by tourists, living not as before on the foreigners’ blood and treasure, but on their treasure alone, and that taken not by force, but by begging.
For those few remaining Italian patriots, the news of grumbling from these walking-tour warriors was a sign of hope. As the fighters, increasingly unsatisfied with their pay, began gathering in groups, more optimistic Italians allowed themselves to believe they would be witness to a sanguinary return to the heady days of yesteryear. However, fortunately for their Mediterranean neighbors, too much time has passed since the storied era of Rome’s glory, and the angry legionaries and gladiators employed the only tactic left in their depleted arsenal: they bitched about it.
Al Gore, Amy Winehouse, boy bands, Davy Jones, Eddie Murphy, Grace Jones, Howard Jones, Jackass, JK Rowling, Led Zeppelin, Monkees, Muammar al-Gaddafi, Rick Santorum, Ryan Dunn, Sarah Palin, untalented stars, Whitney Houston
One has only to see the unlikely outpouring of affection bestowed upon murderous Jackass jackass Ryan Dunn to see that death is characterized not only by a ghastly odor of putrefaction, but also by a sheen of undeserved talent and a patina of ersatz societal worth. Because every famous corpse is now a rotting Mozart or a gas-bloated Shakespeare, it can be difficult to judge the true talents of debatable entertainment figures like Whitney Houston, Amy Winehouse or Muammar al-Gaddafi. When former-Monkee Davy Jones died a few weeks ago, you were probably a little surprised to discover that he was an unrecognized genius, and likely more than a little chagrined that you hadn’t realized it on your own when the Woodstock-era boy-bander was still alive. But don’t feel so bad; if Davy were still living, he’d still be a casino-performing novelty act, and no more a ‘genius’ than fellow Jonses Grace or Howard.
Here are a few figures who, in death, may reach the artistic and intellectual heights they were denied in life:
Having shitty hair at some point in your life is a cherished rite of passage. Almost everyone has been the victim of a bad haircut (Smaktakula’s freshman-year experience with the butchers at SuperCuts earned him the delightful nicknames ‘Baby Huey’ and Q-Tip for a time), and just as many have intentionally made themselves the laughingstock of the next generation all for the sake of passing fashion. We understand–sometimes it seems as if your fauxhawk will remain forever timeless.
There are also much less forgivable examples of follicle faux pas, like the mullet, dreads for blond dudes or straight hair on black men. It becomes far more difficult to regard these fashion sins as harmless affectations when–unlike the hightop, beehive or perms for white ladies, which have thankfully gone the way of the dodo–these hair-don’ts cling tenaciously to life despite the transient nature of fashion. Although we have heretofore not highlighted this cancer of men’s fashion, the comb-over remains every bit as insidious as any other scissor-inspired abortion.
The hairstyle’s complete unsuitability to the modern age is no less glaring than the glossy skull ‘hidden’ beneath a stringy swatch of greasy strands. We remind bald men that if they truly want to look like assholes, there are many ways to do it that don’t also involve looking like a twitchy child molester. It will take just one good gust of wind to rip that wispy growth from your oily pate, the lank locks left flapping in the wind like the tail of a kite, revealing not only the wearer’s unpleasantly asymmetrical baldness but also his dishonesty.
Happily, as men rediscover the knack of pretending to embrace their receding hairlines and hairless spots by shaving themselves bald,¹ the comb-over seems to be gradually fading away. New scientific innovations in transplant procedures as well as topical hair-growth ointments have joined forces with a rising acceptance of baldness to edge the comb-over toward oblivion. But like polio, this icky, deceptive hairstyle is still with us, and until it is nothing but a bad memory, the danger of looking like a complete asshole is still very real.
Africa, boobs, botulism, Brazil, breastuses, bumper sticker mentality, child abandonment, Chuck E. Cheese, death by soccer, drugs, Gollum, headlines, Iwo Jima, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Marines, Mexico, old people, political bumper stickers, prostitution, Rick Santorum, Seattle, Soccer, Vladimir Putin, Washington, Why am I so stupid?
In which we get all the information we need from the headlines of the day:
Anti-Putin protesters form a 10-mile human chain around Moscow ~ Anti-Putin protesters made into bizarre human chain in dungeons beneath Moscow.
Poor reading could be fatal ~ Oh, come off it. We’re as pro-literacy as the next satirical internet blog, but that’s just ridiculous. With the possible–and hilarious–exception of “Warning Sign Disasters,” this simply isn’t true.
Why Thursday’s sunset will be special for Seattle ~ No more sun ’till 2013.
Marine makes last stand in foreclosed home ~ We have to say it: a marine making a last stand in his foreclosed home smacks of weird craziness. Pity–if he’d only been making a last stand on some Godforsaken piece of earth that nobody could possibly want–then it would be noble.
Rick Santorum winning more support from Republican women ~ There’s proof of gender equality for you, folks. Women are every bit as stupid as men.
IS BRAZIL DESTROYING THE AMAZON FOR ENERGY? ~ Well, that would be a good reason, anyway,–better than ‘Just ’cause they felt like it.”
Whatever Happened to First Class? ~ It’s still there–just not for you, peasant.
What You Lose When You Sign That Donor Card ~ YOUR PRECIOUS ORGANS!
Jennifer Love Hewitt loves her boobs ~ In this, we are united in our affection.
Prostitutes found in Mexico jail ~ Imagine that. If you wanted to surprise us, you’d have said ‘soap.’
What’s Wrong With Being Single? ~ Only a loveless grotesquery would pose such a question.
Dad: Drug classes should be mandatory ~ We agree. The younger generation simply does not know how to do drugs properly.
Another child left at Chuck E. Cheese’s ~ You say it like it’s a bad thing, like dad abandoned his kid in the deep, dark, wolf-ridden woods. But at Chuck E. Cheese’s, the kid’s got a fighting chance. He can live in the moist darkness beneath the ball-pits like some pizza-house Gollum until he latches on with a new family.
Violence claims 4th soccer fan ~ We’re pretty sure they’re underreporting the death-toll from this heinous ‘sport.’
Peter, Paul & Mary bassist dies ~ If you’re not Peter, Paul or Mary, in death you shall be remembered only for the instrument you played.
Is 14 too young for life in prison? ~ Fuck yes it is. What kind of idiot even has to ask?
The pain of being disinherited ~ You don’t get any money when Mom & Dad die!
How to handle an elderly loved one that won’t bathe ~ It involves the Jaws of Life and a high-pressure hose.
Most food illness imported ~ Sad. Truly sad. We never thought there’d be a day America would have to import botulism.
Guess what almost killed ‘the Tiger Man of Africa’ ~ Was it a lion? A hippo, then! Damn, these things are hard.
Study: 33 is the best age ~ Not if you’re Jesus of Nazareth. No, 32 was a much better year.
Executed killer shouts ‘Go Cowboys!’ ~ And all the witnesses shouted “THE DEAD LIVE!” Or did you mean “Soon-To-Be-Executed?” That’s probably what you meant.
Does car tell your politics? ~ No, the feeble-minded bumper sticker on the back does that.