Thursday, February 21, 2008

Chariot of the Damned.

Now, before I begin I would just like to say that Chariot of the Damned would be an awesome name for a metal band. Glorious metal names aside, I'm going to touch on several subjects that infuriate me today but they all relate back to one thing. What is this dastardly mechanism that continues to drive me further and further down the path of mental collapse and subsequent genocide like an enemy portal in Gauntlet, spawning irritants endlessly? I am talking of course of: Buses.

You may have seen these mechanized beasts, lumbering along the roads, carting around the unwashed masses, but many of you have most likely seen the inside of a bus aside from the yellow school variety. Recently as a film school student with no car I have been taking the bus to my classes. On the first day I exited my home and instantly cursed the world and all of it's inhabitants as the cold air shot through me like the round of a skilled sniper, freezing my testicles into orbs of solid ice, which shattered when I began to walk and they bumped against my leg. With a sack full of shards in my pants and a chip on my shoulder I boarded the bus and stared awkwardly at the horrible master of the giant vehicle while I shoveled a handful of quarters into the proper place and requested a transfer ticket in a pleasant cockney accent. With a dejected grunt the man/woman/thing handed me my ticket and I took my seat. As I sat on the shaking seat, trying to make my peace with whatever god I could think of every time it made a turn I watched the other passengers board the bus. Pretty soon I found myself in the presence of Ed Asner and Sasquatch himself, I inquired Sasquatch if he could spare an autograph to which he replied "Go take a seat on an industrial drill". Which was quite shocking because I wasn't aware that Sasquatch was fluent in English, let alone did he have a biting New York accent, but what he did confirm is that Sasquatch is a very tall beast. This brings me to my first irritant. Tall people.



Tall people have no respect. Now this is of course a generalization, but this is my blog, with my opinions so you the reader will believe what ever I say. As I was saying, tall people have no respect. They stomp around with their giant feet crushing the townsfolk and smashing buildings with their horrible fists. No one knows why they do this. Scientists at the OHAO Institute for Scientifical Science think it's because they are just assholes. There is no other place however that tall people are the bane of society then at the movies. Tall people seem to be unaware of their own height and thus don't seem to understand what they are doing wrong when they set down right in front of another person in a movie theater. This is a situation that many of us Dawrven folk find ourselves in almost every time we go to the movies. TALL PEOPLE, SIT IN THE BACK WHERE YOUR GIANT HEADS DO NOT OBSTRUCT THE VIEW OF THE OTHER PATRONS. This also seems to happen in my Development of Film Expression class, which irks me because you'd think in a film school there would be some movie etiquette, but no, still my perfect seat is sullied by a thick necked man-mountain taking up half the frame.

As Sasquatch exited the bus, another one of my irritants took his place. An old person.


The bus came to a stop and hissed as it lowered itself so that the new passenger could get on easier. The first thing that made its way onto the bus was a long cane, pulling along behind it a wrinkled shell of a man who practically reeked of the smell of Death's looming shadow. I removed my feet from the seat in front of me which was clearly marked for the elderly or the handicapped but that seat wasn't good enough for the ancient bastard. The man instead sat down on the same seat as myself. Now as you have come to notice, I am a bit of a misanthrope. I dislike the general public because I find them disgusting idiots, not worth the junk I find in the bottom of my boots. So sitting next to me is not something I enjoy. I may be wrong (which Woody and Patrick will be the first to point out) but I'm sure that personal space existed back in the 1930s. The unseen bubble that keeps us at acceptable distances from each other and me away from the people I hate. Namely, old people. I loathe old people. They are generally useless, everything they loved is either dead or obsolete, and you could break them in half as easy as you can stomp Smurfs with golf shoes. I would be much happier if we took that route imagined by visionaries Matt Groening and David X. Cohen. A world where the old past a certain age are sent to an entirely different planet, away from us young folk. Of course this is not with out it's exceptions. Only the useful old people would be able to stay with society. Old men like Keith Richards, who must be at least 400 years old by now.

So, my final point is this.... Hmm... I don't think I have a clever final point... I just really fucking hate old people and tall people.... Also, in an homage to Ash Williams I have named my penis "My Boomstick". Hail to the king baby.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Oh, sanity is a burden.

All right. I feel pressured to write again.
But what am I gonna write about? I'm not mentally retarded, like Brett and Patrick, and I don't display signs of severe schizophrenia, also like Brett.

Bismarck, damn it!

This is Bismarck. HE IS FUNNY, DAMN IT! (Note the pointy hat and terrier mustache.)

Oh, sanity is a burden.

Lawlz to Bismarck,
~Woody

P.S. Bismarck was the first leader of united Germany, established from several small German-speaking nations. He raised the German nation from segmented states, and I don't care what you think, if you laughed at naming one's penis (his name is Einstein), you will find this entertaining!
P.P.S. Just wait until I have a good post. Oh, you'll wish you laughed at damn Bismarck when you find out what a comical GENIUS I am!

Mjolnir

Hello all, I'd like to talk to you today about something very near and dear to my heart.


The naming of one's genitalia.

Being as I lack a vagina, I'm not going to discuss them, and instead focus on the naming of one's penis. I don't know why people do this, but they seem to, and there should be some sort of guidelines in place, so I guess I'm going to take a stab at making those guidelines.

First of all, guys, we should avoid using obvious and lame names. Things like "slugger" or "your name Jr." are overused and thus, not cool. Try to be creative at least. And of course, the nerdier the reference, the cooler it actually is. Naming your member "mjolnir" after Thor's Hammer is a surefire way to impress 'the ladies.' But if you want to go even nerdier, go with 80's cartoon references. Optimus Prime will allow you to shout "Autobots, Transform and Roll Out." Which is just fantastic foreplay.



But you could also easily go with "the Sword of Power" because who wouldn't like to yell "BY THE POWER OF GRAYSKULL" before nookie? No one. That's who.

But, for the guy who really wants to be impressive, you've gotta go with the group theme. Why should just the wang get all the glory? If you're creative enough, you should be able to get some kind of name that works in your juevos as well.

And this is where creativity gets to shine.

The most obvious plan is to go with famous groups of three. Such as naming your balls Sigfried and Roy, and your wiener "the White Tiger." Or naming the three of them "Earth, Wind, and Fire." But not all groups of three will work. "Blood, Sweat, and Tears" for instance. Famous duo's can work to an extent as well. "Simon, Garfunkel, and The Sound of Silence" for starters. Or maybe "Batman, Robin, and the Batmobile," that one gives the added bonus of entering the "batcave." But of course, my favorite has to be naming your various bits after the Thundercats...because then you can scream "THUNDERCATS...HO!!!!!!!!" And that's just spectacular.



Image this as your penis

Friday, February 15, 2008

START WEARING PURPLE

Okay, I found this song last night. I can't describe it. Wikipedia seems to think this is a genre called "gypsy/punk." I don't think that a kind or loving God would allow such a musical genre to exist, but this video proves that wrong. So just sit back and worship this...GLORIOUS monstrosity.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_81l4DXlwM

If it gets stuck in your head (which it will) sue Brett.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Meat lovers pizza (If you're gay)

Alright Papa Murphy's, what the hell? The Heart Shaped Pizza? Who the fuck came up with this idea? Did you pick up one of Patrick's homeless friends off the street and ask him what he wanted most for Valentines day and he replied "Liquor" so you kicked him in the nuts, handed him a twenty and made a pizza shaped like a fucking HEART!? I am so confused about the logic in giving your valentine a pizza shaped like a heart! "Here you go, sweetie. You look like you need more grease and fat on this romantic occasion! Chocolates and flowers? How cliche." Listen guys, if you are going to even THINK about giving this to your girlfriend, consider an equally insulting gift of ramming her head up Rosie O'Donald's taint.... Ladies if you want to get me one, I enjoy pepperoni.

Yo!

All right, so this is Woody.
Don't, uh, don't expect me to post here too often. It just so happens that I have both a life, and am in a real rigorous school. Yeah...but if it just so happens that I'm willing to peel myself away from my women and homework, (both of which I have much to do,) then you had better be prepared for some good ol' correctly spelled and grammatically correct humor.

Or some junk I made on MS Paint. We'll see.

Cool.

Yeah.

~Woody, aka "The Blackhaired Badass"

P.S. Brett, you wrote "do" instead of "due."
P.P.S. Also, you suck.

The Dwellingly Challenged

Okay, this is my first post. I should probably write some sort of introduction piece like Brett did so you can get to know me...but I'd rather talk about homeless people. We seem them all the time, but do we really care? If you're a colossal asshole like myself, the answer is 'no.' But there is one things the homeless can do that can make me change my mind. Entertain me. And I don't mean sexually...wait...no, no, I don't mean sexually. I mean make me laugh.

And I know most of you are thinking "but all homeless people make me laugh." Well you are a sick sick person. The laughter I'm talking about is just being creative. I'm sure everyone's seen the pictures of bums with signs that are legitimately funny, things like "my parents were killed by ninjas and I need money for karate lessons to avenge them" and "I'm not going to lie, I needs me some crack." Those are funny and depressing at the same time. A win-win! But by far the best one I've ever seen in my life was "will let you kick me in balls for $20." Wow. That's ingenious. True the man will never have children, but at least he'll know that he brought happiness into the world. Just like Hookers. GOD BLESS AMERICA!

In a world...

Now, due to the recent downward spiral of my own web based comic, Verge of Dementia, I thought to myself. “Brett you amazing son of a bitch, why just do comics? That’s a needless cap on your boundless wit, charm, sarcasm…”… and then it sort of trailed off because I was trying to make sweet unnatural love to my own mind. Anyway, back to the issue at hand. Taking a page (or a few) from several of my influences I decided to turn into more of a blog format. It sounds cliché and I’ve always hated bloggers because they are all usually pricks with nothing of real value to say to anyone and only whine about their own pseudo-angst. Nobody wants to hear about how your parents don’t understand your big ideas, and how much suffering you’ve felt just because daddy didn’t hug you. So you won’t be hearing any of that drek on here.

You all may be thinking (that’s right, I’m talking to all four of you out there) “But Brett you man-stud, who will aid you in your quest of spiting the world for merely existing?” That’s a good question, and as usual I have all of the answers you seek! Now I have no confirmation yet (But I have dirty pictures of them doing horrible things to billy goats as leverage) but I’m hoping to get two good…. Well they aren’t friends… more like allies… to write their thoughts and opinions on the site just so that you aren’t constantly listening to me. Even though I know you want to. So stay tuned true believers, for the only words you ever need to hear from the slaves here at Our Hands Are Oranges.