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One of my favorite sports writers, Bill Simmons, noticed last week that Kobe Bryant had added the Testicle Dance to his celebration repertoire after hitting a late (seemingly game clinching) 4th quarter shot against the Spurs. Here’s the video:
Useful tutorial brought to you by shlock warehouse, Everything is Terrible.
This could not have been an easy decision for the lord almighty. But ultimately, this Kurt Warner arts and crafts project (pictured below) won the necessary divine favor to advance to the Superbowl…
Someone might argue that Jesus wouldn’t particularly warm up to this three-headed Cerberus-looking chimera that the All-Pro Quarterback has sketched here. But, then again, this man is the alternative:
Eagles’ defensive back Brian Dawkins makes several mistakes in this piece. First of all, praying to a football is probably something that would piss off Jesus. Not to mention the fact that there are 24 footballs in play in the average NFL playoff game. So, while your personal football deity is being toweled off on the sidelines, some Unclean Heretical Football is making friends with Larry Fitzgerald.
Also, I’m pretty sure that Wolverine does not appear anywhere in the New Testament.
Not to mention his dabbling in voodoo rituals to ward off opponent field goals. Talk about mixing metaphors. These Eagles have gone well beyond the divine in a desperate effort to conjure a Superbowl ring.
Maybe next year Mr. Dawkins should try playing football the way that Jesus would. And that is to say, not at all.
In the strangely prophetic movie Demolition Man, all restaurants are Taco Bells (Tacos Bell?). Apparently Taco Bell was the final victor in the “franchise wars” that Sandra Bullock’s character describes as one of the key events of the early 21st century.
Welcome to the future, friends. Today, the internet at large reported that Circuit City has joined KB Toys, Linens and Things, and The Sharper Image in the ever-growing elephant graveyard of defunct franchises.
And to this commentator, a much more interesting question than “Who’s next?” is “Who’s last?” Who will ultimately win the franchise wars and provide all of our goods and services in our soon-approaching distopian, fascist, future state?
The good money is on Wallmart, or SuperWallMart, or even UltraMegaBigHappyFunTimeWallmart. But there are other contenders as well. Best Buy may decide to raid Time Warner in a bid to turn off the Internet and starve out Amazon.com. Anne Taylor may surreptitiously place explosives in all of the hoop earrings at JCPenny. The possibilities are endless. And I look forward to all of them.
This video completely knocked me on my ass. It is stunningly good. Couldn’t wait until Tuesday to post. Enjoy…
Via Greendot Films.
In this putrid economy, searching a job via the internet can be a very self destructive exercise. Application e-mails get lost in the void like so many pieces of space garbage, orbiting the neglected inbox of some pimply quasi-intern, who’s been tasked with the responsibility of reading through a thousand thousand pleas to be interviewed for the opening on the turd-polishing team.
Well, friends, seekers, here is the first tool in your toolbox to combat this trend. I give you the anti-rejection e-mail template:
———————————————————
Dear Overstressed Manager of Applications,
I realize that this is but one of literally thousands of e-mails you receive on a weekly basis requesting entry into your project. I cannot imagine what sort of voodoo-esque speed-reading rituals you must have developed over the course of your training to deal with this reality.
Perhaps, as a consummate Scrabbble player, you only invite in applicants whose names feature ‘X,’ ‘Q,’ and ‘Z’ prominently. Perhaps you print out the e-mails and craft paper dirigibles, powered by microwaved popcorn vapor, to see whose can reach the cubicle furthest along the horizon.
It is not meant for me to know these things. But having briefly spoken to the standing Chieftain of the Overstressed Manager of
E-mails, I got the sense that you had paltry little time to listen to an individual plead their case for entry, no matter the circumstance.
And yet, here I am pleading such a case. You, sir or madam, would do well for yourself to invite me in for a meeting. I am not a random spamling of an e-mail sender. I am a transcendent talent, the likes of which Overstressed Managers such as yourself spend a lifetime in an utterly futile pursuit of.
E-mails like this do not end up in your lap willy-nilly. You have just won the Grand Powerball Lottery of anonymous e-mails. I suggest you act on it immediately, and craft a mighty paper dirigible that files striaght and true over the heads of awestruck cubiclees everywhere.
I await your very personalized and heartfelt response…
Sincerely,
Your Name Here
Classic clip from my favorite comic (and soothsayer) of all time, Bill Hicks. Because of his heavily anti-commercial slant, he never got a great deal of mainstream media coverage. This is something that George Carlin was able to overcome, to some extent. But now they’re both gone, and we desperately need a like-minded voice…
By the way, the sound effect Hicks makes when he puts the mic inside his mouth is supposed to be the sound of pop stars selling out while fellating Satan.
Neat little timeline of the history of video games. A few glaring omissions include Intellivision (my first personal gaming system), Commodore 64 (a competitor in the cartridge gaming market), and Turbo Graphx 16 (the red-headed stepchild of the Super Nintendo). Also, the Super Nintendo pictured in the piece looks to me like a model of the Super Famicom, the Japanese counterpart.
A Short Visual History of Videogames from Kyle Downes on Vimeo.
You may recognize this commercial. It plays roughly every 12 seconds on every major television network:
Anything this repetitive and oversimplified is bound to trip my Homer Simpson-esque “urge to kill, rising” mental switch.
A new and increasingly annoying twist is a remix of this advertisement featuring actors pretending to be ordinary people. They go through the motions singing the jingle, while self-inducing awkward fake laughter and mimicking general outtake-like behavior.
There are few ways to more poorly reproduce reality than to ask actors to play self-conscious, untrained, shlubs with a camera pointed at them. You see, most commercial grade actors are already self-conscious, untrained shlubs with a camera pointed at them.
Forcing people this vapid and shallow to look inward is a very dangerous exercise in existentialism. And irony-challenged television commercial directors probably aren’t the pioneers that we would choose to lead on this particular front.
My DVR is ill-equipped to fully insulate me from this garbage. Even fast forwarding through it makes me want to assume a sumo wrestling stance while shouting “FIVE, FIVE, FIVE, FIVE DOLLAH. FIVE DOLLAH!! FIVE DOLLAH FOOT LONG!,” at random passers by.
Please, if you have access to anyone that took part in producing any part of this commercial campaign, ask the bad men to stop.
