Author Archives: Smaktakula

Pepperoni, Sausage, Simplex

12 Wednesday Jan 2011

Posted by in Stupidity

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By Smaktakula

Take a hard look at the image below.  Do you notice anything unpleasant about the sign above the pizza shop?

This Chain Famously Shuts Its Doors For Months At A Time, Only To Appear At Your Door As If By Magic Just As You're Getting Ready For A Really Nice (And Now Hopefully, Understanding) Meal.

Good eye, folks!  Not only does the sign employ a color scheme so vulgar in its crass insouciance to almost defy description, but the antiquated font harkens back to the days of the Silicon Valley Boom, and frankly is a little hard to read.

“So that’s one family size Herpes Pie and four medium Cokes.  Did you wanna take home any Gonorrhea Twists or Syphilis Whips tonight?”

Dog Fighting: A Solution At Last

11 Tuesday Jan 2011

Posted by in Crime, Culture, Sport

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By Smaktakula

Dog Fighting Is No Longer The Genteel Sport It Was In Your Father's Day.

Although it has only been in recent years that blood sports like dog fighting have piqued the national consciousness–thanks to in part to high-profile offenders such as the very talented but equally douchey Michael Vick–the practice is ancient, dating back into the depths of history.  Fight organizers pit two dogs (often American Staffordshire terriers, more commonly known as pit bulls) against one another in a gore-filled ballet which can leave the animals with horrific injuries if they manage to survive at all.

Absolutely And Without Question, Yes.

Promethean Times deplores this ghastly exercise in masochism not least because it sullies the good name of other, only tangentially-related activities. One such endeavor is the noble and time-honored practice of cock-fighting, which counts among its supporters no less important a figure than Wilford Brimley, as well as influential publications like Promethean Times.  Thanks in part to the attention drawn by canine bouts, cockfights have been made illegal throughout the United States, despite being similar to dog fighting only in that both activities involve animals destroying one another for the amusement of shouting, sweaty men with sixth-grade educations.

But People EAT Chickens, So This Is Completely Different.

However, as with other illicit activities like drugs, prostitution and Dora the Explorer porn, dog fighting won’t go away simply because it’s illegal.  Nor will well-intentioned “shame” campaigns succeed in doing any more than pushing this blood sport further underground.  A new–and more critically, viable–approach must be considered.

Compromise can often leave all parties feeling unsatisfied and poorly used; nevertheless compromise is the sole means by which a workable solution to the dog fighting problem will be reached.  Promethean Times has contrived a solution with broad appeal, disagreeable only to those ideological cosmonauts who cling to either extreme of the issue.

Bringing An Inebriated Killing Machine To Your Party Might Not Be As Bitchin' An Idea As It At First Appears.

For our plan to see real success, some changes must immediately be implemented within the sport.  Dog fights which include brutish game breeds such as pit bulls must remain illegal, with an increased emphasis on prosecution for individuals who participate not only in the dog fights themselves, but also in the breeding and sale of these creatures.  This measure should go a long way toward mollifying activists who wish to see an end to pit bull fighting.

However, people who enjoy the tangy aroma of blood, fur and terror should not be disappointed; under the Promethean Times plan, dog fights will continue. Accordingly, the sport should be decriminalized in all fifty states and the District of Columbia, but limited to animals weighing twelve pounds or less.  As an added crowd-pleaser, the combatants would be made to wear ridiculous costumes such as evening gowns, clown outfits and Leather Daddy gear.

Mitzi Lives Only For The Taste Of The Enemy's Life-Blood.

We think that’s an idea everyone can get behind.

Trucker Bombs: The Highway’s Hidden Threat

07 Friday Jan 2011

Posted by in Culture

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By Smaktakula

If You Think You’ll Only Encounter IEDs In Theocratic Cultural Backwaters, Think Again: You’ll Find Them In Places As Close To Home As Alabama, West Virginia or Utah.

At first glance, there is much to envy in the life of the long-haul trucker.  While his contemporaries toil away their lives in antiseptic cubes which vary only in size and color, the trucker remains free, a servant of no man, his domain the byways and backroads, his destination the horizon, with the call of the road his only companion and the eternal asphalt his uneasy ally.  Then there are the perks–scalding black coffee, bathtub crank and toothless truckstop whores.  To those who don’t know any better, it might seem an idyllic life.

Have You Ever Stopped To Consider How Much Of Your Life Is Wasted Standing In Front Of These Things?

But for those perspicacious enough to see past the glitz and the glory, a different world reveals itself.  In fact, long-haul trucking makes for a hard and lonely life, one made all the more arduous by hidden inconveniences which go unnoticed by most of workaday America.

“I’m Doin’ #1 Right Now!”

Trucker bombs are the result of one of these unseen inconveniences.  Very much the IEDs of America’s roadways, these golden grenades of ammoniac horror wait silently among the roadside detritus for the hapless charity organization or prison work crew misfortunate enough to stumble upon it.  Because of the time constraints placed upon them, many truckers eschew the everyday activities which would otherwise slow them down, such as the bathroom break.

Some Truckers Have Revived The Old Tradition Of ‘Piss Boys.’

Teamsters, who have previously taken the art of beating the system to new and dizzying heights, have devised a means by which drivers can cheat biology’s heretofore unshakable summons.  The teamsters’ workaround was not only so simple and elegant as to almost defy belief, but also so efficient that it is a wonder it has yet to come into greater use among non-commercial drivers.

The Problem Isn’t New. This Pamphlet From 1923 Tells The Horrifying Story Of A Young Boy Enfeebled For Life By A Trucker Bomb.

The system works like this: when a driver needs to relieve himself, rather than stop to find facilities, he urinates directly into an empty and–most critically–resealable container.  Plastic milk jugs are the preferred receptacle, but other varieties of plastic containers as well as some glass jars work well for urine storage.  The result is a trucker bomb.

The Aurora Peterbiltalis: This Beautiful Phenomenon Should Be On Everyone’s Honeybucket List.

As the second half of the name might imply to the careful listener, trucker bombs save precious time by being easily disposable.  When the containment unit is three-quarters full of human fluids (truckers say that to fill the container beyond 85% is to invite disaster), it can be discarded easily and quickly by hurling it from the window of a speeding truck.  The resultant explosion is a phenomenon described as “a golden spectacle” by those fortunate enough to have witnessed it.

Is This What You Want For Your Kid? To Stink Like A Homeless Person?

 

Things We Think About: Time Travel

07 Friday Jan 2011

Posted by in History

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By Smaktakula

If The Future Has Anything To Teach, It's That The Pederasts Will Outlive Us All.

We think it would be way cool to be able to travel backward in time, but not for the typically cited reasons, such as dumping that Lehman stock while it’s still hot, killing Hitler or doing the nasty with Joan of Arc.  Instead, we’d use this precious opportunity to fuck with people from simpler, more primitive societies.

For example, if visiting late 19th Century Victorian England, Smaktakula might insist to all he meets that he is a certain Mr. Beyotch, placing a ridiculous emphasis on the second syllable so that it rises in pitch to end almost in a screech.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Beyotch.”

“My dear sir–that’s BeyOTCH!”

Man, that would be anachronistically epic.

The "Maid" Of Orléans. The Chick's French--How Hard Can It Be To Get All Up In That Chainmail?

FYI:  Joan became legal circa 1430 AD, only to die a year later in 1431 AD.  That’s your window of opportunity right there. ∞T.

Free Tibet! (Or Did That Already Happen?)

06 Thursday Jan 2011

Posted by in Culture, History

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By Smaktakula

Sure, Sure--It's Super Important, But We Have Some Questions First.

It’s a challenge to drive any distance these days without seeing the ubiquitous political bumper sticker, in which complex and deeply-nuanced issues are boiled down to a sloganized reduction so bereft of substance that it makes the average high-schooler’s Tweet seem Faulknerian by comparison.  From SMILE YOU WEREN’T ABORTED’s stealthy smugness to the charmingly pathetic earnestness of KERRY/EDWARDS 2004, political bumper stickers proclaim a myriad of simplistic political philosophies expressed in varying degrees of screechiness.

FREE TIBET saw its heyday as a cause célèbre in the heady days of the Post-Soviet 1990s, when anything seemed possible–even affecting global change through the power of an adhesive decal.  Even so, FREE TIBET still doggedly clamors for attention from the rear bumpers of those who refuse to forget.

Tibetans Such As Man-Who-Watches-Sky Wonder When The Great Spirit Will End Their Oppression.

But do they know what they remember?  After seeing a certain musician (whom we choose not to name, but who recently attempted a laughably anticlimactic run at the presidency of an impoverished, voodoo-loving, non-baseball playing nation in the Caribbean) fail spectacularly to comment coherently on the situation, we began to wonder how much Tibet’s defenders actually know about the tiny, oppressed nation.  So we devised a simple test.

Although Promethean Times lives and dies on Freedom of Expression, we believe also in the responsibility to voluntarily limit that freedom to those spheres of knowledge in which the speaker has at least a rudimentary grasp of the subject.  We do not question the right of any man, woman or child to speak out of his or her ass–Promethean Times is both a proponent of and adherent to the delicately-disciplined ballet that is ass-talking–but to trumpet one’s ignorance publicly from the back of a car is not only a blaring admission of that ignorance, but allows observers to match the stupid to a face.

Tibet Boasts A Host Of Aboriginal Cultures.

Which is why Promethean Times endorses the Political Intelligence Standards Survey, a voluntary program whereby the owners of political bumper stickers would submit to a brief test of their knowledge on the subject about which they wish so stridently to opine.  Those freeway pundits able to pass the test would be able to tell the world not only that OBAMA IS A SOCIALIST!, but also to proudly proclaim that they have at least a half-formed idea of what a socialist is.

For the FREE TIBET crowd we recommend asking “On which continent will you find Tibet?”  In a perfect world the respondent would be able to name the country from which beleaguered Tibet seeks to gain its independence, but after much debate we decided that was probably asking for too much from today’s geographically-disinclined society.

The Yeti (Seen Here) And The Dalai Lama Are Two Of Tibet's More Famous Mythical Creatures.

The upshot is that the situation in Tibet is very serious, and threatens to spill over into neighboring Ivory Coast and Macedonia, with violence potentially spreading widely enough even to affect fake countries like Sri Lanka.  Until the Norwegian government sees fit to bring real freedom to the brave people of this tiny sub-Saharan nation, the Free World should never expect real peace in South America.

Well, We've Done Our Part.

Given that the above is 100% true, we’re not exactly sure why our Irony Sense goes wild at the fact that until recently some FREE TIBET flags were made in China. ∞T.

Not At My Party, Squinty!

05 Wednesday Jan 2011

Posted by in Culture, News

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By Smaktakula

Not THAT Kind Of Squint! This Lovable Scamp Is Welcome At Our Birthday Party. We'll Be Putting Away The Breakables.

A recent British study revealed an heretofore undiscovered class of persecuted citizen: the squinty-eyed.  Although the term “squint” has gained popularity in the United Kingdom, it refers to the condition known as strabismus, where one of the eyes points a different direction when the other is looking forward.  Called “Creep Eye” or “Goofy Eye” in the United States, squint is evinced in about 1 in 20 children.

Kid, Don't You Know That Your Eye Will Stay That Way If You . . .What? . . . Oh My God, We're So, So Sorry. You're Beautiful Just The Way God Made You.

A British study of children ages 3-12 determined that if given a choice between inviting one of these bipedal Boston terriers to their birthday party or instead inviting a Normal, children overwhelmingly chose to exclude the child with squints.  Scientists are not surprised.

Thanks To Growing Societal Acceptance, Squinty Models Can Now Get Work.

Neither is this US mother, ‘Deborah,’ who asked that her real name not be used.

I don’t have anything against those unfortunate children.  I had a cousin who was . . . like that.  Well, maybe she still is–we haven’t spoken in years.  And it’s not that I don’t think they should go to birthday parties, because I think all children should experience at least one birthday party in their lives.

Would she invite a squinter to her child’s birthday party?

Look, I’m not a bad person, okay?  But on {Jonathan’s} special day–I just can’t bear the thought of him trying to eat his cake, while across the table is one of those . . . those children.  As if it’s all perfectly normal.

Well, it’s not normal!  It’s not!

Fortunately ‘Deborah’s’ attitudes do not represent the larger facet of modern society.  As the world becomes more aware of the walleyed, it will embrace them into the warm and welcoming bosom of humanity.

Dude, You Should Totally Invite Him. Always Eager To Please, Squinty Kids Bring The Coolest Presents.

Just as long as they don’t watch us while we’re eating.  That’s really creepy.

Does It Smell Like Skank In Here?

04 Tuesday Jan 2011

Posted by in Celebrity, Culture

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By Smaktakula

Callipygian sexpot Kim Kardashian unveiled her long-awaited signature scent to an eager public last January.  That the ambulatory pair of buttocks would seek to profit from her musky vapors is neither surprising nor particularly blameworthy; that America’s dulled cultural palate has allowed KK to stink up the aisles of Wal-Mart and Target stores nationwide eleven months later is.

Considering The Product's Demographic, It's Most Likely Aimed At Classy Lassies With Expansive Chassis.

As readers of Promethean Times already know, Kardashian is the ninth most beautiful woman in the world.  It is likely for this reason, and not because of the perfume’s quality, that Kardashian’s pungent secretion is so highly prized.

Katy Perry, thought to be the world’s most beautiful woman, has her own signature scent, Purr.  People who like that kind of crap call it “a bewitchingly bold aroma, infused with the twin scents of desperate tears and moist muppet fur.”

Why doesn’t Kim throw an extra ‘K’ word onto ‘Kim Kardashian’ to give the perfume’s name a further level of alliteration–say, ‘Kim Kardashian Kologne?’
Oh, right–Good catch.

Snowboarder’s Empire Could Go Up In Smoke

03 Monday Jan 2011

Posted by in Celebrity, Sport

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By Smaktakula

Just Take A Look At The Man--He's High Right Now!

Michael Phelps’ fall from grace and subsequent loss of several lucrative endorsement deals after being photographed pulling on a bong must send a chill through the athletic community, particularly among those athletes in low-paying sports who depend on endorsements to maintain their lifestyle.  According to friends, snowboarder Shaun White is one of the athletes said to be playing on the edge.  Said an unnamed source, “We keep trying to tell Shaun that he’s just one bust away from stocking the salsa bar at Baja Fresh.”

We Sincerely Hope That Shit Was The Sticky-Icky Super-Chronic, Mike, Considering What It Cost You.

Promethean Times managed to secure an interview with the Flying Tomato at the athlete’s home.   Although our intern, Arturo, spent over twelve hours with White, the interview tapes last only a few minutes, Arturo’s questions having to be squeezed in between White’s interminable Xbox sessions with friends, tours of his home which included views of his extensive air-freshener and incense collection, and the athlete’s repeated offers of such sundries as Red Vines, Corn Nuts and Funyuns.

The Olympic Committee Stripped Canadian Snowboarder Ross Rebagliati Of His Medal When He Tested Positive For THC. It Was Later Returned After It Turned Out That Ross Had Merely Stepped Into An Elevator Where "A Bunch Of Guys Had Just Been Getting High," Inadvertently Inhaling Some Of The Smoke. That And He'd Eaten A Poppyseed Bagel A Few Days Before. They Can Totally Mess Up A Test.

Perhaps White’s most salient insight during the interview was this:

Yeah, I’ve heard the rumors–who hasn’t?  I want to clear the air–heh–regarding this matter once and for all: I don’t smoke pot.

He went on to add:

But I saw on TV one time that for someone to overdose on marijuana they’d have to smoke a bag of weed the size of a house, and they’d have to do it in like fifteen minutes or something!

Dude, can you totally imagine a house made of pot?  That would be fuckin’ sweeeeeeeeeet!  People’d be like, “Hey Shaun, what happened to your doorknobs, man?”  And I’d be like, “I don’t know, man!”

At this one of Shaun’s friends whispered in his ear, after which the Gold-Medal ginger said:

Um, I mean just for pretend, y’know?–Completely and totally not for reals.

Hey dude, are you recording this?

Reefer Is To Snowboarders As Oxygen Is To Humans.

Of course, like anyone else, White is innocent until proven guilty.  Even if the rumors prove false, the damage has been done.  Many within the sport privately fear that recurring allegations of marijuana use among its athletes could doom snowboarding’s clean-cut image forever.

Shaun Burns The Half-Pipe, But He Shreds On A Bong.*

*You thought we’d go with the “Weedies” angle, didn’t you?  Too easy.  ∞T.

Duhamel Groupie To PT: ‘Step Your Game Up.’

31 Friday Dec 2010

Posted by in Celebrity, Culture, Stupidity

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By Promethean Times

'Suzie' Is Appalled Not Only By Smaktakula's Ignorance Of His Favorite Actor, But Also Of A Movie So Replete With Unbridled Awesome That Its Title Defies The Confines Of Accepted English Syntax.

We’ve said it before: we love hearing from our fans. We are tremendously moved to know that what we do here has such a profound effect upon our readers.  Occasionally we like to throw the little people a bone by hauling out time-honored platitudes such as how we learn as much or more from the trembling supplicants aching to touch the hem of our robes as they do from us.

Truly Douche Juhamel's #1 Fan, Suzie Loves Him In A Way No Other Man Can. Someday The Actor Will Notice.

Recently we heard from a devoted PT reader, Suzie (not his real name)*, whose comment was such a great mixture of insight and constructive
criticism that we felt compelled to share it with you. Suzie was particularly disappointed by our prior  ignorance of the legendary performer, Josh Duhamel, and wasn’t afraid to tell us about it!

From his writing space in the fetid laundry room of the aging double-wide he shares with his grandmother, Suzie wrote:

Really, you don’t know who he {Duhamel} is?  The guy was in Transformers 1 and 2.

One of the biggest movies of all time.

You don’t know who he is…

Really??

Thank God Zoe Saldana didn’t get in the news for an outburst either. Then I’d have to read about how you didn’t know who she was either. Another swing and a miss for this website. Step your game up.

We’ve asked Smaktakula to respond. ∞T.

"You Don't Know Who Josh Duhamel Is? Huh. He Starred In A Little Movie You MIGHT Have Heard Of: Transformers I And II. It Was Only The Biggest Movie Ever. GOSH!"

The words ‘Step your game up,’ can say a great deal about the person who gives them voice: first and foremost that he is a bold linguistic innovator, eschewing the longstanding practice of English-speaking people to avoid ending their sentences with prepositions. But then, Suzie proved himself a grammaverick with his curious use of the singular pronoun “one” for the antecedents “Transformers 1 and 2.”

Although initially taken aback by his passion about a subject which would be inconsequential to all but the most ardent housebound nebbishes, we accept as valid Suzie’s condemnation, both for our being previously unaware of Douche Juhamel’s tremendous body of work, and also for failing to keep abreast of blockbuster movies based on children’s playthings of yesteryear.

Moreover, we initially thought that Suzie’s criticism of Promethean Times might be of a more spurious character, perhaps excoriating this publication for its tendency to say ridiculously awful things about perfectly decent and apparently-undeserving public figures as recently as the first sentence of the preceding paragraph, all while hiding behind the anonymity of an alias.  Of course, such an argument would constitute nothing more than a clutch of lies.

Zoe Saldana

We Don't Understand Why Zoe Gets You So Hot And Bothered, Suzie. Sure, She's 'Real Life' Pretty, But Not 'TV' Pretty.

Instead, he has chosen to take the high road, bringing light to the ignorant in the form of ephemeral pop-culture inanity: a true fan, Suzie’s only concern is our Netflix queue.  To this, we can offer only a mea culpa. Everybody makes mistakes, Suzie. Look at M. Night Shyamalan–the man makes a ton of movies; every great now and again one of them is bound to be a clunker.

Lastly–and given what’s transpired between Suzie and Promethean Times, this is difficult to admit–until his comment, we hadn’t heard of the moderately-attractive but largely forgettable Zoe Saldana.  Obviously, we’re more than a little chagrined to be called on the carpet for our pop-culture ignorance not once but twice. The only excuse we can offer is that we don’t get to visit doctors’ offices nearly as much as we’d like, and so hardly ever get to read People Magazine.

A Restraining Order Is Nothing But A Piece Of Paper, Josh, But What We Share Is Real! When Will You See That?

Thanks, Suzie!  2011 is sure to be the year in which we step up our game!

*Although we have withheld “Suzie’s” name, we should note that he was man enough to include a real name and email address. This is a refreshing change from cowardly bloggers who talk a good game from behind the aegis of a ridiculously-conceived alias, such as ‘Thinksquad,’ ‘Some Guy‘ or ‘Walt Stoelting.’

Hefner’s Antics Now More Creepy Than Cute

30 Thursday Dec 2010

Posted by in Celebrity, Culture, News

≈ 2 Comments

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By Smaktakula

Harris, Trained As A Geriatric Nurse, Discreetly Performs CPR On Her Enfeebled Fiancée.

Hugh Hefner, the decrepit, Viagra-gobbling relic of the Sexual Revolution, recently proposed to Crystal Harris, Playboy‘s Miss December 2009.  Hefner, old enough to remember the Great Depression, announced his engagement to the twenty-four-year-old Harris via a Christmas Eve tweet.

The 'Playboy Man': A Timeless Archetype Of Swaggering Virility, Of A Macho So Thick And Viscous That It Sticks To Walls.

Critics contend that while the desiccated octogenarian’s comfort with Twitter is mildly charming, there is something more than a little unseemly about Hefner marrying a woman six decades his junior.  Playboy representatives dismissed this as small-minded puritanism, reaffirming Hefner’s commitment to his soulless, little boy’s fantasy of a lifestyle.

Turn-Ons Include: Chick Flicks, Romance And Incontinent Old Men.

Harris is not the first instance in which Hef has dipped into the company coffers: he’s also dated Barbi Benton, Shannon Tweed, Donna Michelle and a harem’s worth of others.  In recent years the dirty old man boasted of dating up to seven Playmates at a time, thrusting a symbolic middle finger at erectile dysfunction.  Harris won’t even be the first Playmate to wed Hef.  That honor goes to Kimberly Conrad, Playboy‘s 1989 Playmate of the Year.  Conrad and Hefner have two children, the older of whom is five years younger than Harris. Hefner’s oldest child, Christie, is thirty-three years older than Harris.

Harris Knows That If She's Unfaithful To Hef, There's Already A Replacement Waiting To Take Her Place.

Ms. Harris is said to be ecstatic about life with Playboy‘s original visionary, noting that Hefner is about the same age as her great-grandfather, “And I love Poppy-Pop thiiiiiiis much!” she said, indicating with her arms that her love for the two senior citizens measured well over a yard {0.91m}.  Harris then walked into a door post.  She later apologized to the post.

Hef

When Grandpa Starts Acting This Way, It's Time To Call Shady Acres.

In a perfect world, Hugh and Crystal’s relationship would be free from society’s preconceptions regarding romance and the elderly.  Life not being perfect, we simply wish the best to this special couple, and share Harris’ hope that she will be the lucky rider holding the reins when the horse finally kicks over.  Best of luck, Crystal–don’t sign anything.

Once Content To Be A Caricature Of Himself, Hef's Current Ambition Is To Live Every Day Of His Life As If It Were A Benny Hill Sketch.

“Does ‘Waiting for Hef to Die’ count as a hobby?”