If you follow cars/news/politics/any-of-these, you should know that the government is working out these so-called "CAFE" laws that basically mean every car company needs to have a much higher average MPG rating by a certain year (I think like 2020 or something). To be honest, these laws have been worked-on, discussed, misreported, and misunderstood so many times that I'm not quite sure what the exact numbers are currently. Either way, you get the point. But this causes me a fair amount of pain. See, by the time I'm retiring and ready to buy myself a Ferrari, the laws will be so rigid that Ferraris as we know them may no longer exist. Maybe I'm getting a little too worked up a little too soon, but keep in mind I love cars and I love driving. The whole reason I want to make more money is so that I can afford a collection of wonderful sportscars in my later years in life. Who is the culprit behind this decimation of my dream? Al Gore.
According to Al Gore, we have less than ten years to fix our crazy level of pollution or we're headed to some super catastrophic bye-bye Earth death. According to Al Gore, we need to start driving more hybrids, stop driving cars with testicles, come up with alternative (read: shitty) sources of energy, and coming up with crappier, greener version of literally everything. If Al Gore had his way, we'd all be forced to use greener masturbation techniques like using the same magazine again and again and then recycling once you've soiled all the pages, even the ads. Better yet, draw your own jerkoff material on the back of a used napkin, then use the napkin to clean up after yourself when you're done.
Al Gore is a fucking moron. Al Gore cries nonstop about CO2 levels, and how we need to bring them down. We dump all this money into "green" projects, and hamper mankind's ability to enjoy that little thing we used to call life by trying to tax the fuck out of anything that isn't green. I can't believe that most of the modern world buys this shit up. If anybody is still keeping count: it's not fucking working, Al Gore.
The 1997 wildfires in Indonesia were estimated to have produced up to 40% of our yearly global CO2 emissions (thank you, Wikipedia, the most reliable source of information known to modern man). Forty percent! How hard would it have been to take a tiny fraction of all the money we spend on these bullshit fucking "green" programs and instead apply it to a bigger/faster/stronger Indonesian fire department, thus doing a better job of reducing emissions where it actually can be helped? Better yet, I'm sure it wouldn't break the bank to install some very basic sprinklers here and there (yes, even in the fucking forest) to spray down trees at regular intervals, or go full blast at the first sign of a fire. And there we go, give ME the Noble Peace Prize.
Here's an interesting little article.
How accurate is the little article above? Who knows? I didn't even read it. I simply searched for something on Google, found an article with a graph I felt was relevant, and posted a link to it. I'm sure it can't stretch the numbers TOO far. We've got our priorities all fucked up here. I'm sick of self-righteous people thinking they're so much better than others on the merit that they're "green". As if they've transcended to some nirvana that the rest of us lowly commoners couldn't begin to understand. Seriously, if you're a "green"-stressing hippie, get a damn clue. Learn to cut through the bullshit.
Here's another article on Al Gore and his dirty lies.
End rant.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
You have learned the breathe ability!!
I'm a dude. And dudes play video games. And that doesn't make me uncool at all. If you disagree, screw you. That isn't the point though. Sometimes you just run into some absolute retarded shit in games. Here's an example: you're walking through a dungeon in The Legend of Zelda, and you come to a point where there's a little stone block in your way. You can't climb over the block, maybe because you're carrying 70million things in your little faggot bag. Jumping is clearly not an option because elves don't jump. So what do you do? Obviously the next logical thing: you take out your boomerang and throw it at a random fucking switch placed on a random fucking ledge across an endless pit that teleports you to the beginning of the dungeon if you fall into it. Now I have a few problems with this. First, who the fuck would place a switch there? Second, do all the dungeon's normal inhabitants have boomerangs that they use to hit the switch? Why didn't they use the boomerang to knock out the idiot who designed the dungeon like that in the first place? Third, wouldn't it be smarter to have a hidden switch like under a tile or something? Screw it, I'm over it. I used whatever magic mirror bullshit trick to get through that game and totally kicked Ganon's ass a million times over.
But above is a picture of possibly the most retarded shit I've seen in a video game. Ever. A buddy of mine is interviewing in a few days with a company called nDoors. This company has created a game called Atlantica Online, where you create some faggot character (or in my case, a hot archer chick) to harness the power of some bullshit trio of sexed-out looking goddesses. Okay, I didn't really get the story straight, and I don't give a shit to. Why? Because of shit like you see in the picture above (click on it). Notice the text closer to the top of the screen. If you can't read it, it says "You haven't learned the [Sit] action..." What cracked-out game-designing morons decided that you need to have some elite, esoteric knowledge in order to FUCKING SIT? Last I checked, you learn that after a few months of being alive. Considering that my character apparently came out of the womb as a beautiful, well-endowed 24 year old arrow-shooting hottie, you'd figure one of the many deities in her realm might have thought it useful to teach her to sit and rest once in a while after shooting down a whole bunch of deer (the only thing I've been running around fighting).
Fuck that game. I'm done playing. Sorry Dennis, I tried. Good luck with the interview.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Ice Cream Made From Real Human Titty
Okay I'm trying really hard to find evidence that this is some kind of disgusting joke. My coworker just sent me the below link, and I am at a loss for words. I can't even think of something funny to say (not that I'm very funny to begin with)... Click the link below.......
Ben & Jerry's... With human tittymilk??
Your first reaction, if you're not a fucked up PETA-type hippie, is "WHAT IN THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!" I didn't even know that putting real human tittymilk inside food was legal. But skipping the question of legality all-together, who the fuck would want to eat ice cream made from the tittymilk of human mothers? While the perverts and creeps may cheer in excitement, consider that the only type of human mother who would be willing to provide her tittymilk for money probably is a desperate mother who is poor. And generally speaking, as far as women go: the poor ones are the uglier ones. It's statistically proven by various studies, go look it up....
... Okay, are you back from Googling about trying to find where I'm getting my facts? Obviously I was just kidding about there being proof. But it doesn't matter. Even tittymilk from a HOT woman is disgusting. Tittymilk is just disgusting period. It's like girl-semen squirting from two huge chest-mounted testicles.
Ugh, disgusting.........
Ben & Jerry's... With human tittymilk??
Your first reaction, if you're not a fucked up PETA-type hippie, is "WHAT IN THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!" I didn't even know that putting real human tittymilk inside food was legal. But skipping the question of legality all-together, who the fuck would want to eat ice cream made from the tittymilk of human mothers? While the perverts and creeps may cheer in excitement, consider that the only type of human mother who would be willing to provide her tittymilk for money probably is a desperate mother who is poor. And generally speaking, as far as women go: the poor ones are the uglier ones. It's statistically proven by various studies, go look it up....
... Okay, are you back from Googling about trying to find where I'm getting my facts? Obviously I was just kidding about there being proof. But it doesn't matter. Even tittymilk from a HOT woman is disgusting. Tittymilk is just disgusting period. It's like girl-semen squirting from two huge chest-mounted testicles.
Ugh, disgusting.........
Drive an entry-level BMW or Mercedes? You might be a douchebag.
Do you live in Los Angeles? Do you drive an entry-level BMW or Mercedes? Then you may want to visit the closest Douchebag Help Center, because you probably are a fucking douchebag.
While there are plenty of bad drivers on the roads in Los Angeles, I'd say your average BMW 3-series or Mercedes C-class drivers take the cake. Maybe something about working all their lives to afford that coveted "luxury" badge makes them feel as though they've earned the right to be an absolute cockhead on the road. Or maybe the product planning managers thought,"I know how we can cut costs: get rid of turn signals!" Or there was some obscure law stating that driving an imposter luxury sedan automatically gives you the right of way, even against stop signs and red lights.
There's usually a certain type of driver behind the wheel of each 3-series or C-class sedan. Almost always, it's one of the below:
1) A middle-40's Caucasian male. This guy usually reeks of "asshole". He's the guy in the corner of a college bar on a Friday night pretending to be busy on his 4-year old free-after-contract Blackberry; all the while he's wondering why he can never seem to land young college tail. His hairline is receding, he still lives in a studio apartment, and he hasn't gotten the memo that a Ralph Lauren polo shirt and Dockers khakis isn't in fashion. Still, he finally saved up enough money being some type of bullshit "agent" (translation: salesman) to finally buy into the world of ultra-super-duper-amazing-high-end luxury. That in itself should merit all the pussy in a 4.6-mile radius simultaneously exploding with heat whenever he drives by.
2) A skinny guido-looking Middle Eastern guy around 20 years of age. He's the one playing the latest hit Chris Brown song at full blast while driving by Burger King and scoping out the high school girls all eager to drop their pants and offer him their virginity - all at once. He's got a fake tan, an Ed Hardy shirt, and a enough deodorant to make his car's exhaust smell like a carwash. Maybe his distant uncle runs some distant oil company in a war-torn region. Or maybe his whole family is living in an apartment and taking turns driving around in that car.
3) The father of #2. Most likely he's the actual owner of the car (they share it, remember?). Description remains the same, except usually he's got a huge gut by this time, but still wears that same Ed Hardy shirt that doesn't quite fit him.
4) Some young Asian girl. Could possibly be in high-school. This girl is usually the worst driver of the bunch. She's too busy posing for all the paparazzi surrounding her and taking pictures of her in her fake D&G sunglasses she borrowed from her mom. Sadly, this one just doesn't know that she's a terrible driver. You see, all Asian girls think they're "better drivers than other Asian girls". But if every Asian girl thinks that, then.... well, I guess I don't need to really explain the flaw in reasoning there. The Asian girl will usually cut you off, and not even know that you're honking at her. You'll pull up next to her to flick her off, then realize she's actually kind of hot. So you'll just stare at her, until you pull up again at the next stop sign. She takes off her huge sunglasses, and you realize you've been tricked: she's ugly as dog shit. But by then it's too late to flick her off for cutting you off three signals ago, although maybe she deserves it anyway for being a total walking scam. Either way, this is by far one of the most disappointing moments in driving.
End rant. It's time to get back to work.
While there are plenty of bad drivers on the roads in Los Angeles, I'd say your average BMW 3-series or Mercedes C-class drivers take the cake. Maybe something about working all their lives to afford that coveted "luxury" badge makes them feel as though they've earned the right to be an absolute cockhead on the road. Or maybe the product planning managers thought,"I know how we can cut costs: get rid of turn signals!" Or there was some obscure law stating that driving an imposter luxury sedan automatically gives you the right of way, even against stop signs and red lights.
There's usually a certain type of driver behind the wheel of each 3-series or C-class sedan. Almost always, it's one of the below:
1) A middle-40's Caucasian male. This guy usually reeks of "asshole". He's the guy in the corner of a college bar on a Friday night pretending to be busy on his 4-year old free-after-contract Blackberry; all the while he's wondering why he can never seem to land young college tail. His hairline is receding, he still lives in a studio apartment, and he hasn't gotten the memo that a Ralph Lauren polo shirt and Dockers khakis isn't in fashion. Still, he finally saved up enough money being some type of bullshit "agent" (translation: salesman) to finally buy into the world of ultra-super-duper-amazing-high-end luxury. That in itself should merit all the pussy in a 4.6-mile radius simultaneously exploding with heat whenever he drives by.
2) A skinny guido-looking Middle Eastern guy around 20 years of age. He's the one playing the latest hit Chris Brown song at full blast while driving by Burger King and scoping out the high school girls all eager to drop their pants and offer him their virginity - all at once. He's got a fake tan, an Ed Hardy shirt, and a enough deodorant to make his car's exhaust smell like a carwash. Maybe his distant uncle runs some distant oil company in a war-torn region. Or maybe his whole family is living in an apartment and taking turns driving around in that car.
3) The father of #2. Most likely he's the actual owner of the car (they share it, remember?). Description remains the same, except usually he's got a huge gut by this time, but still wears that same Ed Hardy shirt that doesn't quite fit him.
4) Some young Asian girl. Could possibly be in high-school. This girl is usually the worst driver of the bunch. She's too busy posing for all the paparazzi surrounding her and taking pictures of her in her fake D&G sunglasses she borrowed from her mom. Sadly, this one just doesn't know that she's a terrible driver. You see, all Asian girls think they're "better drivers than other Asian girls". But if every Asian girl thinks that, then.... well, I guess I don't need to really explain the flaw in reasoning there. The Asian girl will usually cut you off, and not even know that you're honking at her. You'll pull up next to her to flick her off, then realize she's actually kind of hot. So you'll just stare at her, until you pull up again at the next stop sign. She takes off her huge sunglasses, and you realize you've been tricked: she's ugly as dog shit. But by then it's too late to flick her off for cutting you off three signals ago, although maybe she deserves it anyway for being a total walking scam. Either way, this is by far one of the most disappointing moments in driving.
End rant. It's time to get back to work.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
A Pirate Walks Into a Bar...
A pirate walks into a bar with a steering wheel attached to his crotch. He sits, orders drinks, and drinks and drinks away. Seeing that the pirate has finally had enough to loosen up, the bartender finally musters up the courage to ask,"Sir, I couldn't help but notice that you have a steering wheel attached to your crotch...?"
The pirate replies,"I KNOW, IT'S DRIVING ME NUTS!!"
(Read it in a pirate voice if you don't think it's funny. Go find yourself a sense of humor if you still don't get it. Go f yourself otherwise).
The pirate replies,"I KNOW, IT'S DRIVING ME NUTS!!"
(Read it in a pirate voice if you don't think it's funny. Go find yourself a sense of humor if you still don't get it. Go f yourself otherwise).
Subway = Homosexual
After drafting a whole crapload of "welcome to my blog" posts, I decided to scrap the idea all-together and just post random shit on my mind. It's complete nonsense, so don't bother trying to refute my points or "prove" me wrong. For all I care, F you all (Okay, sorry. We're off to a bad start, but I'll make it up to you eventually).
That said, onward...
Lately, I've been going to Subway nearly every single day for lunch with a few coworkers. After getting sick of the "restaurant service" downstairs, those $5 foot-long tuna sandwiches became the meal of choice for the past 4 months or so. At least three times a week I walk into Subway, where the nice cashier lady gives me her usual smirk; she's clearly recalling the time when I walked in there and started singing Behind These Hazel Eyes by Kelly Clarkson (It was playing on the radio). Ever since then, every time I go in she has this smile on her face and can't look me in the eye (Apparently from fear of bursting out laughing at me). I forgot exactly where I'm going with that little sidenote, but everybody at the Subway down the street thinks I'm gay. Well I think Subway is gay. In Subway's defense, I think Quizno's is gay too. As is Togo's. In fact, any restaurant specializing in making submarine sandwiches is gay.
You see, there isn't anything much gayer than chomping down hungrily on an elongated piece of bread filled with meat and mayo while making muffled oh-man-that's-so-good noises. It's the same reason men don't like to eat bananas or pickles unless they're sliced up. At this point, maybe some of you chime in and say,"oh grow up". But I would argue that every single male, regardless of age, compares his manhood to a banana if he comes into contact with one; we simply learn to keep that to ourselves in an attempt to appear civilized so that maybe we can share that said manhood with a member of the opposite sex. You've got to wonder: who the hell thought of making submarine sandwiches, well, long like dicks? It doesn't seem to be the most ergonomical shape for a sandwich. All the meats and cheeses that go inside the sandwiches are cut in squares or circles. A hot-dog I can understand, but a hot-dog is also an extremely fucking homosexual food item. It must have taken a real homosexual douchebag to think,"I want to create a long piece of food to stuff down my throat looking like a total homosexual after singing Kelly Clarkson at Subway".
Before you go and look it up on Wikipedia then pretend to be the guru of sandwiches, I did it for you:
"The term is believed by some to have originated in a restaurant in Scollay Square in Boston, Massachusetts at the beginning of World War II [1]. The sandwich was created to entice the large numbers of navy servicemen stationed at the Charlestown Navy Yard. The bread was a smaller specially baked baguette intended to resemble the hull of the submarines it was named after.[2]"
Now, I'm sorry, but does anybody else find that MORE gay? Imagine a long room, filled with seamen (har har, get it?), all throbbing/sweating/panting from their hard day's work of "washing" a long, firm submarine hull while listening to In The Navy by the Village People. Now imagine all of them are sitting together in a room void of any vaginal interference, and they're all hungrily chomping down on a foot-long sandwich. I don't know about you, but I feel 4% closer to being gay just from imagining that. It's time for lunch.
That said, onward...
Lately, I've been going to Subway nearly every single day for lunch with a few coworkers. After getting sick of the "restaurant service" downstairs, those $5 foot-long tuna sandwiches became the meal of choice for the past 4 months or so. At least three times a week I walk into Subway, where the nice cashier lady gives me her usual smirk; she's clearly recalling the time when I walked in there and started singing Behind These Hazel Eyes by Kelly Clarkson (It was playing on the radio). Ever since then, every time I go in she has this smile on her face and can't look me in the eye (Apparently from fear of bursting out laughing at me). I forgot exactly where I'm going with that little sidenote, but everybody at the Subway down the street thinks I'm gay. Well I think Subway is gay. In Subway's defense, I think Quizno's is gay too. As is Togo's. In fact, any restaurant specializing in making submarine sandwiches is gay.
You see, there isn't anything much gayer than chomping down hungrily on an elongated piece of bread filled with meat and mayo while making muffled oh-man-that's-so-good noises. It's the same reason men don't like to eat bananas or pickles unless they're sliced up. At this point, maybe some of you chime in and say,"oh grow up". But I would argue that every single male, regardless of age, compares his manhood to a banana if he comes into contact with one; we simply learn to keep that to ourselves in an attempt to appear civilized so that maybe we can share that said manhood with a member of the opposite sex. You've got to wonder: who the hell thought of making submarine sandwiches, well, long like dicks? It doesn't seem to be the most ergonomical shape for a sandwich. All the meats and cheeses that go inside the sandwiches are cut in squares or circles. A hot-dog I can understand, but a hot-dog is also an extremely fucking homosexual food item. It must have taken a real homosexual douchebag to think,"I want to create a long piece of food to stuff down my throat looking like a total homosexual after singing Kelly Clarkson at Subway".
Before you go and look it up on Wikipedia then pretend to be the guru of sandwiches, I did it for you:
"The term is believed by some to have originated in a restaurant in Scollay Square in Boston, Massachusetts at the beginning of World War II [1]. The sandwich was created to entice the large numbers of navy servicemen stationed at the Charlestown Navy Yard. The bread was a smaller specially baked baguette intended to resemble the hull of the submarines it was named after.[2]"
Now, I'm sorry, but does anybody else find that MORE gay? Imagine a long room, filled with seamen (har har, get it?), all throbbing/sweating/panting from their hard day's work of "washing" a long, firm submarine hull while listening to In The Navy by the Village People. Now imagine all of them are sitting together in a room void of any vaginal interference, and they're all hungrily chomping down on a foot-long sandwich. I don't know about you, but I feel 4% closer to being gay just from imagining that. It's time for lunch.
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