New Blog

Due to the fact that contract negotiations fell through with the other members of this blog, or maybe the fact that I'm the only writer, I have begun a new blog with a much easier name to remember.

WadeBoggsBrewery.blogspot.com

Also a factor? A Google search that revealed the White House’s Office of Management and Budget (OMB) had a ridiculously, almost eerily, similarly titled blog. And no one wants similarly named blogs writing about exactly the same shit. Enjoy.

Colleges I could do without: The Ohio State University

Whenever I’m watching Monday Night Football, I nearly vomit when I hear an athlete refer to his alma mater as “THE” Ohio State University during the introductions for the TV broadcast.

Naturally, I thought that this meant that these fine gentlemen were proud of their collegiate affiliation and wanted all to know that we should look up to them for going there. Let’s take a look at why these guys are so proud of that beacon of higher education whose mascot is a tree that produces these.

Is it because Columbus is such an amazing college town? No, it is lined with Skyline Chili , Steak N Shake, and Dollar stores. Actually, that sounds like a pretty legitimate college town. Let’s try something else.

How about heroes from the gridiron:

Proud men of character in Ohio State football history

Cris Carter (WR, 1984–86)

Prior to Carter's senior season, he secretly signed with notorious sports agent Norby Walters. When the contract was discovered, Carter was ruled ineligible. The absence of Carter in the 1987 offense contributed to a disappointing 6–4–1 season and the firing of Coach Bruce

David Boston (WR, 1996-98)

Left Ohio State a year early. Before the 2004 season, he tested positive for steroids and was ordered to serve a four-game suspension. Soon after, he tore ligaments in his knee and was unable to play for the entire season.

Maurice Clarett (RB, 2002)

Has a laundry list of well-known troubles. Ended up playing just one season. Instead of going on about what you already know, how about a humorous anecdote:

“He would take that water bottle everywhere, including the Bronco weight room, and the team started getting suspicious when, before minicamp practices, he'd grab the bottle and say, "I gotta get my Goose on.'' It wasn't a joke; the Bronco players were convinced he was chugging Grey Goose.”

Jim Tressel (coach, 2001-present)

Dresses like a class A prick while maintaining no class at all. Also has been accused of illegal activities involving players at every school he works for.

Coached at Youngstown State before OSU and led them to a division 1-AA championship by carefully allotting cash payments and car loans to players:

"That's what kept that city alive, the university and the hospitals," said Ray Isaac, quarterback on Tressel's first title team. "We were the toast of the town. We had parades. We had it all."

Isaac had more. As the NCAA would later learn, Isaac was taking money from a booster from virtually the moment he joined the team in 1988. A few hundred here, a thousand or so there, including $3,800 during the 1991 championship season.

At Ohio State, Tressel continued his sleazy ways:


From an ESPN article:

Maurice Clarett also says he likely would have been ineligible for Ohio State's national title season of 2002 if the football staff had not "aligned'' him with an academic advisor whose goal was simply to keep him eligible. He says the academic advisor enrolled him in Independent Study courses and also put him with hand-picked teachers who would pass him whether he attended their classes or not. He says his advisor also introduced him to a tutor who prepared outlines and told him what to write for assignments.”

Before anyone asks why I am assuming “Slow-Mo” is telling the truth, let’s consider who we’re dealing with. Do you really think that Clarett would be able to make this up? How else would he know the words “advisor,” “tutor,” “class,” or “outline”?

Also, there are teammates who agree the program was more corrupt than elections in the Middle East.

Academia

Now instead of making empty claims about how shitty academics are at OSU, I did some investigating. Of course, this research was done with the potential embarrassment of a co-worker seeing the course catalog for Ohio State on my computer screen.

Now, it took me a little while to find the “sports” major, as I began looking for the usual suspects, like “Physical Education” or “Athletic Studies.” Someone must have a PhD in Bullshit Major Names, since they somehow call “Gym” the “School of Physical Activity and Educational Services”

Not only does this “school” give major credit for participating in varsity and club athletics, but the course descriptions are so short it looks like they were written on Twitter.

I shit you not, these are credit worthy at Ohio State (just don’t try to transfer these to another school) :

• skydiving (“You do NOT have to jump in order to pass the class," according to their website)


• History of Physical Education and Sports in the United States


• Problems in Intramural Sports


• Sport for the Spectator (“A study of the great American spectator sports including football, basketball, baseball, ice hockey, golf, tennis, and others which meet the interests of the class.”)


• Movement and Self Awareness


• How to Avoid Dying from Cancer Now and Later (Is this a course title or a redneck's recent AskJeeves search?)


• Interpersonal and Coping Skills For College and the Workplace (a third-year class)


• AIDS: What Every College Student Should Know (two words: condom)


• College Sport (“Explores historical development of college sport; the influence of race, ethnicity, class, and gender.”)


• Officiating

If you were to give these guys Method Man’s truth serum from “How High” and asked what the best part of OSU was, the unanimous answer would most likely be “all dem white bitches.”

These dudes like going to school in Columbus because of the celebrity status and the ability to play Xbox all day instead of going to class. Since they didn’t graduate, I guess you could say these guys majored in giving nerdy white TA’s boners for having a football player talk to them.

But I don’t limit my hatred of Ohio State to the football team. I hate that they have hot girls. I hate that every guy is a douchebag. I hate that they accept Dave and Buster’s coupons for tuition.

And then there’s the Ohio State fans: what’s not to hate there?

My point here is that these students, staff, alumni, and fans have no reason to refer to their school as “The” anything. It’s not like the school is Princeton or Oxford, where this pompous behavior would be (slightly) more acceptable. But the fact is that you are going to a third-rate school in a fourth-tier state.



P.S. Don't think that I forgot about you folks at The George Washington University. Congrats on being the runner up here. I have a suggestion for you guys: it may be more accurate to replace “The” with “Thank you for your application to Georgetown, but you’ll have to settle for”

Music Lyrics I Don't Understand Sundays: Threemix

In Eminem’s recent album, Relapse, he talks about a variety of things he’s been doing since he last released an album in 2005. And by “things” I mean “prescription pills.” And by “doing” I mean “swallowing better than Briana Banks.”

In between tales of murder, robbery, and getting butt-fucked by his step-father in a shed, Eminem dedicates a song to his mother, aptly named “My Mom.”

One of the lines strikes me wrong each time I listen to this song. In an effort to understand this lyric, which sticks out worse than a Long John Silver’s fan in a group of Ethiopian refugees, let’s look at the preceding lines one at a time:

Pee in a tea cup? Bitch you ain't my keeper, I'm sleeping

Ah, the old pee in the tea cup trick, eh? Obviously Slim Shady isn’t falling for that one again.

What the fuck you keep on fucking with me for?

Double “fuck.” I like it. Really drives in the point.

Slut you need to leave me the fuck alone I ain't playing,

Nothing like calling your mom a “slut.” Another gem.

Go find you a white crayon and color a fucking zebra.

And the wheels are off.

What the fuck is this line supposed to mean? Even if his mom had a fresh pack of tasty Crayolas in her hand, how was she supposed to track down a zebra? At the zoo? I’m pretty sure as soon as she knelt down near the beast, his mom would get kicked square in the pussy.

And what an insult from Slim! Call me jaded, but I don’t think this punishment has the same pizzazz as, say, telling your mother you’re going to rape her (known in the South as “a pickup line”).

Does crayon even work on zebra? Why not tell her to paint one? Literally anything but a crayon.

People I Could Do Without: Casual biker wearing intense racing outfit

Nothing like driving along and almost running over some jack-off puttering around on his bike looking like he is prepared to line up for the Tour de France. Instead of squeezing a practice ride between blood-doping sessions, however, this douchasaurus is merely avoiding his family by coasting aimlessly around the block a few times.

I understand spending some dough on a helmet. But gloves? Spandex shirt? Really? Wind resistance doesn’t play a factor when you are only going 11 miles-per-hour and are 11 Krispy Kremes from being legally obese.

Do you put on a spandex onesie and cleats when running a single time around the block? A Rip Hamilton clear mask and arm lingerie to play hoops? Full helmet and pads when tossing the football around?

And you must rock a swim cap and sharkskin swimsuit when sitting in the hot tub too. The closest I come to impersonating Michael Phelps is polishing off a bag of Jalapeno Popper flavored Doritos while laughing my ass off to Weekend at Bernie’s. That is if you don’t count the 1200 daily sit-ups and weekly rimjobs to beauty queens.

Obviously the main reason for this get-up is to create the image that you are an awesome athlete and we should all be jealous of the shape you’re in. And the dedication you show to pedaling. And that you entered a bike race and received a free, skin-tight shirt as a parting gift. And that you think it’s ok to wear it in public.

If you’re so interested in mimicking Lance Armstrong, why don’t you ditch the mother of your three kids after she stuck with you through cancer treatments and marry a B-list singer-songwriter?

F1RST!!!11!

(see January posts)

http://shar.es/bkBi

Part of my pants I could do without: the Button-Up Fly

In the past few years, the button-up fly has stormed onto the fashion scene with the audacity of the first girl in middle school with boobs. However, this newest accessory does not give me a mega-boner in math class.

Instead, this unfortunate invention has caused me to audibly curse an item of clothing at the mall. What was wrong with the zipper, anyway? Was it too easy? Too convenient? The top button was already pushing it. Now, I have an arsenal of fasteners to complete before I am able to hit the bars and (eventually) saturate my pants with warm urine.

To the most common anti-zipper argument: getting your dick caught. Has this ever actually happened to anyone not in a Farrelly brothers’ movie? Chalk this up to another thing Ben Stiller has ruined for us, along with museums and Judaism. If you are stupid enough to not have realized that the penis goes inside the pants, not outside, you have larger problems to worry about than how your fly stays together.

The only benefit I can see to button-up flies is giving women a taste of their own medicine. Since before that hoochie Victoria opened her catalog, I mean store, men have been fumbling, ripping, and biting at bra straps in an attempt to break through and unleash those wonderful spheres of boobie blubber lying beneath. Now, when we’re lucky enough to have someone groping drunkenly at our crotch, any semblance of fluidity in the hookup is lost when the girl is forced to give the ol’ awkward laugh before asking for assistance.

This type of “innovation” is akin to going back to manual window rollers. Or pagers. Or Alta Vista. This new fly, like breast-reduction surgery, is a classic example of fixing something that isn't broken.

Music Lyrics I Don’t Understand Sundays: Verse 2

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Hurricane Chris, he is a 19 year old rapper who is best known for his song “A Bay Bay.” Also, according to his Wikipedia page:

Rap-A-Lot Records released You Hear Me?, a compilation of songs including "You Hear Me?" and "Yep"

I can only hope those tracks appeared in that order.

Like it or not, Don’t-Call-Me-a-Tropical-Storm Chris is back on the scene with his newest hit; “Halle Berry (She’s Fine).” At first listen, the song was a laugh riot. Amongst the annoying “Halle Berrayyyyyyyy” repetition, however, a puzzling offer is made by H-Chris:

“I got enough bread to take me and you to London
And back to America and all over the country”

So I’m pretty sure Chris thinks London is a country. Or a continent. Definitely confusing it with either England or Europe. And what a trip you have lined up, Chris! To this proposition, Halle would most likely respond: “Um, hello? I’m Halle titty-fucking Berry. I’ve been to Europe more times than you’ve been to Waffle House.”

Also, who would want to go to London with Hurricane Chris? Nothing like sightseeing with a guy who thinks Parliament is a brand of cigarettes, Buckingham Palace is a sex act, and cricket is a noisy bug.

The phrase “all over the country” immediately brings to mind some sort of sweaty cross-country road trip in a shitty Winnebago. And I doubt Halle Berry is a huge fan of UNO.

Readers I could do without: KillBoyBands

Welcome back. Like they say about adults with autism: long time, no talk.

Somehow comments made on a post I wrote a while ago went unseen until now. Here is the link (ignore the anti-Asian remark).
http://ombbb.blogspot.com/2009/01/characters-i-could-do-without-stewie.html

My response:

I mean this in the harshest way possible... you are too stupid to understand Family Guy.

I’m going to go ahead and take that only moderately harsh.

Which is really sad because it isn't that hard to get.

I could say the same thing to you about your inability to get laid.

Stewie didn't become gay, he is a baby who doesn't yet know if he likes boys or girls. Is that really that hard of a concept?

For a cartoon? Yes.

The fact that YOU (and not everyone) are so stupid that you have to look things up on wikipedia makes me "glad."

I’ll have to agree with you on this point, since you’ve clearly nailed it on the head: I am the only person who consults Wikipedia when they don’t know something.

I don’t think stupidity is the issue, but rather the fact that I didn’t watch TV during the 1970’s so some of the names inevitably go over my head. According to your theory, someone (me, I guess) is “stupid” if you have to look up any of the following actual Family Guy references:

- Death exclaims that the Griffins’ TV is so old that they could get the DuMont network on it
- Cleveland says he once met singer/actress Pearl Bailey
- Lois says “Well, you’re no Salvatore Fiorella.”
- One cutaway shows the time when Peter invited Karl Malden to do cocaine with him
- This caused Peter to exclaim “I love you, Lou Gossett, Jr.”
- Chris says he saw an after-school special about dropping out of college and that “it didn’t work out too well for Kristy McNichol. But then again, nothing did.”

Funny: These are from only two seasons of the show. Funnier: I completely made one up. Funniest: You can’t tell which one.

It is not the responsibility of the writers to dumb it down for idiots like you. (February 18, 2009 3:42 PM )
Nope. Luckily that responsibility falls on your hairy shoulders.

KillBoyBands said...
You're right about Stewie's character changing.

Finally, I get something right. By the way, 11 minutes between posts? Did you squeeze in a quick Warcraft mission?

When the show first came on he was less funny and more "evil." Well guess what?

Chicken butt?

Shit changes.

Someone took a history class in junior college.

Remember the early Simpsons episodes? Have things not changed there? How about South Park? Would you like to explain the chages there?

Would you? I think by not listing the changes, you can’t identify them. That, or you are a witch.

Or do you just stick to the simple things that keep you away from wikipedia?

Typically, when I’m watching a show, I don’t like being given outside assignments. But yes, I prefer things that don’t require Wikipedia to be enjoyable. Like acid.

Your blog perfectly points out the stupidity in your argument.

Hey – let’s leave the blog out of this. “Brad Wesley Snipes” is about to post something.

Obscure references? Are you kidding?

Yep. Gotcha!

Are the writers supposed to call you before writing a joke to see if your simple brain would catch it?

Only if they’re in my Fave 5 (I don’t have that many minutes)

Some people can understand Stewie and some can't.

I said that already.

This bothers you?

Clearly.

By this logic I'm going to assume that you don't like South Park because Kenny kept dying and coming back.

Well since it was clear that Kenny would die in every episode and return in the next, the audience was able to easily follow that part of the plot. In contrast , it’s pretty hard to identify those that can understand Stewie when we’re never told what the requirements are for doing so.

Also, you probably never liked Peanuts(Charlie Brown(don't want you having to resort to looking up "peanuts" on wiki) because the parents sounded muffled.

Easy on the parentheses, you’re writing a sentence not a math problem. I think the muffled-trumpet-parent-voice was actually the only thing about Peanuts that I did like. Also, thanks for letting me know you were talking about the show/comic strip; I would have been really fucking confused trying to figure out how Planters related to parents’ voices. This part of your argument is weaker than Christopher Reeve’s biceps. Do you really think I follow that shitty-ass comic strip? Considering I’m neither a six-year old learning to read nor your great-uncle Mort, I don’t.

Nah, I'll just go with my first instinct and assume you're a fucking retard. (February 18, 2009 3:53 PM )

Nah? C’mon brah!


OK, KillBoyBands. My turn:

I take it you are someone that gets home from a long day manning the register at Gamestop, unbuckles your Tevas, and eagerly plops on the couch for a few Family Guy re-runs on TBS. I bet even though you own the episodes on DVD, you still manage to laugh so hard at each joke that your chocolate milk comes out of your nose and Mom needs to bring in more.

And what’s with your username? I have a few problems with your choice of “KillBoyBands.” First, that is a pretty strong stance towards a music genre that has been dead for over 10 years. I’m impressed you have been able to harbor not only hatred of these guys, but full-blown murderous rage. It leads me to believe that a) you tried out for a boy band and were cut like Owen Wilson’s wrists b) Kevin from BSB said “fuck off” when you asked him on a date to Medieval Times c) you are Charles Manson. Also, your profile has been viewed 4 times. 3 of those were by me.

Your inability to acknowledge that Family Guy contains obscure references makes me think that your mother not only drank moonshine during pregnancy, but also has Down Syndrome. A Google search for “family guy obscure references” gets 57, 800 responses. And once you type in “ob”, Google somehow magically predicts the rest. I Googled “KillBoyBands + acne + virgin” and got so many hits my computer subsequently went dead and started emitting dark grey smoke.

In sum, I want you to do with your lips what your slutty mother should have done with her legs nine months before you were born: shut them.

Unattractive Names for Women: Gretchen

Before any of you (do people still read this?) think "hey, Gretchen Weiners was hot from Mean Girls" remember that she isn't real.

The name Gretchen just sounds ugly. Also, it reminds me of Gretel from that nursery rhyme. And that bitch was fucking dumb.

Biggest Movie Douche of Our Time: Travis Van Winkle

I have always hated this actor. I know you do too. He is literally a douche in every single role he plays. The fact that he resembles Nick Carter doesn’t help.

Now that I found out his last name is “Van Winkle” I feel slightly bad for him. But, I just looked at his page on imdb and the hate is coming back as strong and pungent as piss after asparagus. Here is a sampling of his roles:

Friday the 13th (2009) ......... Trent

Meet the Spartans (2008) ......... Sonio

"Greek" ......... Travis (1 episode, 2007)

Transformers (2007) ......... Trent

Left in Darkness (2006) ......... Corby

Dorm Daze 2 (2006) ......... Frat Guy

Accepted (2006) ......... Hoyt Ambrose

"7th Heaven" ......... Brian (1 episode, 2005)

"The O.C." ......... Kyle Thompson (1 episode, 2005)

"Malcolm in the Middle" ......... Phillip (1 episode, 2005)

"That's So Raven" ......... Ben (1 episode, 2004)

Billy's Dad Is a Fudge-Packer (2004) ......... Sister's Boyfriend

Instinct vs. Reason (2004) ......... Frat Boy

The smash nursery-school hit “Billy’s Dad Is a Fudge-Packer” aside, T-Dubs’ career roles are categorized as follows:

A) a high school bully named Trent

B) character with douchey name (Sonio, Corby, Hoyt)

C) “Frat” included in character’s name

D) Appearing on a TV show for a single episode

Keep up the good work, Trav!

Infomercials I could do without: Obama Coins

I’ll start out by saying I am quite partial to infomercials in general. I think they are a great medium to market useless products, often resulting in sky-high scores on the unintentional comedy scale. It also serves as a vessel to launch careers of charismatic douchebags or revive the careers of ex-stars or athletes. Also, I hate preparing my salmon and rice in two separate dishes and like to see it’s possible for them to be perfectly cooked in one simple countertop appliance.

The commercials for these Obama Inaugural Coins are essentially useless. I doubt there are any items on the market that are as worthless as these pieces of shit. The website reads “Celebrate the New America!” What it should say instead is “Overpay for Defaced Currency in a Depression!”

Americans, as history shows us, love to leap at the chance to profit off significant historical events. There was the rise in patriotic memorabilia after 9/11. And, of course, the hole-in-the-skull Lincoln Assassination Bobblehead.

A Google search reveals multiple sites calling these coins “rip-offs.” No shit. There will be no demand for these in the future and anyone that believes so needs to be taken out behind the shed and kicked in the shin.

Grandma, if you are reading this on your WebTV, please don’t bother getting me any of these for Christmas. It won’t change the fact I think you’re still a racist. Plus, I still have one of the Reagan engraved gold bars they handed out at country clubs in the 80’s.

New Feature: Music Lyrics I Don't Understand Sundays

Each Sunday I will be posting music lyrics I don't get. It will probably be mostly from rap songs because, well, to be honest they tend to include a lot of meaningless garbage. This lyric comes courtesy of Sean Kingston in Take You There.

"We can go to the tropics
Sip pina coladas
Shorty I could take you there
Or we can go to the slums
Where killas get hung
Shorty I could take you there"

I don't know who Shorty is, but it sounds like she is faced with no brainer here. Go to the tropics! Sip pina coladas! Why on earth would she want to go to the slums? Where killas get hung? I don't even know what that means but it sounds terrifying.

ATHLETES SMOKE POT? OMG!!!!!!

"Don't forget your towel! I'm sooo high...."

Guess what, America? People smoke weed. In fact, lots of people smoke weed. And lots of people smoke a lot of weed. Everyone knows this, and at some point in their lives, just about every American has smoked weed themselves. So why, when Michael Phelps is found to have "smoked from a marijuana pipe", as ESPN.com so eloquently put it, does the media react like he just hailed Hitler at a press conference? And why I am still hearing about this "story" so long after it broke? This guy, as much of an awkward douchebag as he is, just won 8 fucking gold medals for this country. For all I care, he can be huffing gasoline with Thai hookers while a big ol' batch of meth brews in his bathtub.

Josh Howard of the Mavericks had the right idea when he came out and admitted to smoking weed in the offseason. I can't remember exactly what he said, but I believe it went something like, "Fuck yeah I smoke weed in the offseason motherfuckers! I make millions of dollars and get 4 months off every year. So what the fuck am I gonna do with all that time off? I'm gonna do the same shit I did before I was rich, only I'm gonna do more of it and spend more money while doing it. I'm gonna play xbox 360, buy a shit load of flat screens, pimp mad bitches, and smoke mad blunts. And none of those schwaggy-ass blunts that I used to smoke. I'm talkin' those blizzunts rolled with only the finest of nugs. And guess what? You ain't gon' do shit about it." Right on, Josh, right on...

If Michael Phelps wasn't such an awkward pussy who hides behind his publicist, he would have done the right thing. He would have stepped up to the podium when the shit hit the fan and said, "Yeah, I smoke weed once and a while, and does it matter? Well, I just won 8 gold medals for this country, so I'd say it probably doesn't matter too much. How many gold medals have you won? Oh, what's that? None? Hm. Well then, I guess you should probably just shut the fuck up. And oh yeah, I almost forgot... (pulls out bong, takes a big rip, exhales into everyone's faces, dumps bong water on his head, smashes bong, starts to walk off stage) ... suck my fuckin dick."

Choke On That Candy Heart: The Overly Happy and Touchy Public Couple

SPECIAL VALENTINES DAY EDITION

Let me start by saying I picked the picture above from a thumbnail and now that I have uploaded it, it really creeps me out. First of all, the dude looks at least a quarter retarded. He looks unstable as all hell. He is that guy at the party breaking bottles over his head and everyone is laughing but also noting where the exits are in case an escape needs to take place. Also, is the chick wearing any clothes? Normally I would not mind that, hell, I would encourage it- but I think there is a decent chance that she is also a guy. Look at how meaty those arms are!Also, has anyone seen Real World Brooklyn? The chick on that show that used to be a dude looks a lot like this broad. Enough to raise a few questions...

Anyways, Valentines Day is coming up and that means some of us get to have a special day with someone special, and some of us get to have a sloppy and depressing night with someone sloppy and depressing. I fall into the latter. I will be spending the night with this chick.

In all seriousness, to a single person, there is nothing more annoying than the overly touchy and lovey couple. Its bad enough to know you are out there somewhere. Cant you just spoon in the dark and watch Love Actually like all the other couples out there? You gotta bring that shit in to public? To parties? I wish I could shot gun a beer but I know I will just throw it up next time you two break out into a tickle fight.

Also- Who are these people kidding? Everyone knows its a true that the more lovey dovey a couple acts in public the more fucked up things actually are. Fact. Common knowledge. When that couple who is giving each other Eskimo kisses in Starbucks get home, the wheels come off the wagon. The guy is either beating the ever loving shit out of that girl, or shes making him participate in some sort of weird farmer/pig role playing scenario. Its called over compensation people, read a book.

Lastly, who does this? Didn't PDA go out of style while Dawson's Creek was still on the air? I am pretty sure that last time I held hands with a chick in public an Oasis CD was playing. The only kind of acceptable PDA is making out, at a bar, with a stranger.

And everyones doing it! Even ugly people are groping each other like they can massage some attractiveness into their lover. They should know that they are barely allowed to come in to public in the first place, don't push it.

You two! Out of the gene pool!

Tenor I could do without: Chris Brown

Can’t say I’ve ever been a fan of R&B singers. Chris Breezy is no different. I was first introduced to him as the guy who died in the beginning of Stomp the Yard. Later, I learned that he porks Rihanna and made a song about Doublemint gum.

Now it turns out he beat up on his girlfriend the night before the Grammys. Yet another reason why rappers are better than “singers” such as C-Brow. First of all, rappers don’t have a girlfriend to slap around. They have hoes in different area codes, mind you. Also, they are too busy smoking blunts and counting their money to make a girl bruise. I must say I was shocked to hear a story like this about Brown. What’s next? Omarion stabs his mom? O-Town caught in a dog fighting ring? Roger, the annoying neighbor from Sister, Sister, putting out CDs like we don’t remember where we know him from? Pathetic.

I think rap stars look forward to award shows. I guarantee that the Nickelodeon Kids Choice Awards is circled on R. Kelly’s calendar. Award shows give rap stars the opportunity to show off that new chain, watch, or semi-automatic handgun. In 2004, Young Buck stabbed some lucky guy in the chest because he had punched Dr. Dre in the back of the head. My grandpa said it was his favorite VIBE Awards to date.

Award shows are places for partially illiterate musicians to try to read teleprompters after taking an eighth of chronic and three cups of syrup to the head. They aren’t places to show off the bruises you created by smacking your bitch up.

Sorry for the lack of posts...

We'll be back next week!

Animals I Could Do Without: Pandas

These guys have the right idea.

Call me a grouch, but I’m really getting fed up with the public’s collective boner for pandas. It’s bad enough to see adults turn into five year old girls upon seeing a panda at the zoo, but I draw the line when pandas are starring in movies and taking jobs away from hardworking human actors.

I was minding my own business the other day, enjoying an episode of “Planet Earth”, when what should appear on the screen but the world’s most overrated animal, the giant panda. The pussy ass, freeloading giant panda. And this giant pussy was sitting there, gnawing on a stick of bamboo, with her stupid little retarded cub and a sorry expression on her face, as the voiceover spewed the usual media song and dance about the dwindling supply of bamboo and the endangerment of the species. The whole scene was enough to make me want to puke my last meal all over the forests of the Orient.

Pandas need to stop making excuses. You would think a panda, being giant and all, would have the requisite strength and combat skills to not only survive, but fulfill its duties as a bear and fuck some shit up. While the rest of the animal kingdom was carrying out business as usual – having tons of sex, pissing on things, eating babies and other smaller animals – this massive ball of pathetic was doing nature’s equivalent of watching Will & Grace reruns with a pint of Haagen Dazs, wondering why her husband is no longer faithful. No wonder they are on the verge of extinction.

I have been told more than once that my hatred for pandas is merely a product of my bias for the American grizzly. You see, for as long as I can remember, I have carried a strange premonition that some day I will have to fight a grizzly bear. Coincidentally, I have a similar premonition that I will die on the toilet, like Elvis. This leads me to two possible conclusions: either a) I will be mauled by a bear while taking a shit, or b) I will defeat the bear, only to be dropping a deuce and/or furiously masturbating at an advanced age, when I am suddenly gripped by a heart attack, or an exploding sphincter. I would tend toward option b), because I’ve always envisioned the battle happening in a public place. Like, I would be at a nice dinner with my family, and glance over my shoulder to see the grizzly a few tables over, thumbing through the wine list. We would toss the menus, exchange death glares, and have it out.

Here’s my point: you’re goddamn right I’m biased. Would a grizzly ever let itself become endangered? Would it sit there as its population shrinks and cry like a little bitch? Hell no. It would go kill something, and then find a female to fuck. Were a grizzly and a panda ever to face off, the grizzly would show him how we do things in America. He would rip off the panda’s head, tear out the bones, grind that shit up, start making that real money. Probably eat the little retarded panda baby too.

I won’t stand idly by and let this embarrassment of a species slowly pussify us all – it’s time for us to do the right thing and turn to violence. There is actually one panda to whom I will grant a reprieve – of course, I am talking about Sexual Harassment Panda.


But all the rest of them need to hurry up and die. Jesus, what a disgrace.

Characters I could do without: Stewie Griffin

Let’s face it: Family Guy hasn’t been the same since the South Park episode where it was suggested that the Family Guy writing staff consisted of manatees instead of single Jewish guys. Even before this episode, I took issue with Seth MacFarlane’s plagiarism of classic TV comedies. Obviously Peter Griffin is a fatter, more human-looking version of Homer Simpson. And I would be floored to find out that Meg isn’t directly based on Cliff Huxtable.

The first problem I have with Stewie is that he looks like the lead character from Hey Arnold without having smoked bongs for a half hour straight. He is arguably the most famous character of the show, although this title should clearly go to Asian Correspondent Tricia Takanawa.

Stewie started out as a talking baby who was obsessed with killing his mother. He somehow transformed into a homosexual with an inexplicable British accent. Also, the fact that some can understand what he says and others can’t frustrates me. When he does say something, he makes references so obscure that you need Wikipedia open just to identify which washed up celebrity is talking about.

What pisses me off about Stewie is that he is such a fucking pussy (Shocking. A fag from England?) Remember the episode when he runs into his adult self? Turns out that “Stu” is a 35 year old virgin who reads Parade Magazine. In this episode, Stewie attempts to cheer up Stu by playing the “glad game” where you list things that make you “glad.” First of all, what an enormously bisexual game. Who uses the word “glad”? Second of all, these are the things that Stewie lists: pinwheels, a big wedge of cake from the fair, a doo-dad to wear in your hat. All of those things are less exciting than a handjob from Mother Teresa.

In sum, take (yet) another note from the Simpsons: Maggie doesn’t talk. Babies usually don’t.

One Brass Band I Could Do Without: Ozark Mountains British Brass Band

Last one to penetrate a cousin is a rotten egg!

I typed OMBBB into Google to see if our blog would be listed. And it wasn't. BUT, here's the good news people- Google nailed OMBBB.741.com. For the few of you who are not familiar this is the website of the Ozark Mountain British Brass Band. Finally a hit band to come out of Northwest Arkansas. You were due! Anyways, to the band: I would like to be the first to extend a giant FUCK YOU from our team to yours. Your website looks like it was made by a fucking 4th grader. You're making us both look real shitty. I don't care if you are "the only organized British brass band in a 4 state area," I heard your holiday concert on December 5th sucked balls. You know why you are the only British brass band in 4 states? Because its not normal, that's why. Why can't you just watch Nascar, drink bud heavy, fire your guns off in the air, and talk about how Jews are ruining the economy like the rest of the Arkansas hicks? You have to run around organizing British brass bands and ruining perfectly good acronyms? Fuck you guys.

On a serious note, if you have a minute you should really check out the website. You even have the ability to e-mail the band members! For us groupies, or as we call ourselves-OMBBBoopies, this can be a real treat. For example, I got the opportunity to reach out, via email, to my all time favorite Flugelhorn player: Drew Morris. Best day everrrrrrr.

People I could do without: Virgins

At every party you go to, there's one person who stands out like a sore thumb. You can tell right away who it is. It's that person who's clearly not having as much fun as he or she could be. They drink from their cups with timid, insecure sips. They tuck themselves away in the shadows, seemingly safe from their fellow revelers' judgmental gazes. They crack jokes that are neither funny nor offensive. They tell boring, bland stories that leave a bitter, metallic taste in the mouths of everyone who has the misfortune of being within hearing range. No, I'm not talking about foreigners and no I'm not talking about hipsters. And no I'm not even talking about foreign hipsters. The pariahs I speak of are the scourge of the world...virgins.

Before I elaborate on my unwavering disdain for virgins, let me first say that the virgins of which I speak are not those that simply have yet to find their way into the welcoming bosom of the opposite sex. That's understandable, because in these days of economic and political turmoil, getting a quick bang session together is tougher than a windowless van full of fresh-off-the-boat Albanians. I'm no Casanova or anything, but I'll be goddamned if I don't at least try to get lucky as often and in as demented a way as possible. As long as you try to make it happen, or at the very least, want it to happen, you're all right with me. The virgins I refer to are those that actively seek to preserve their sexual purity and along the way, make sure that every single soul within a 5 mile radius knows that their nether-regions are off limits. They wear brightly colored wristbands and charming t-shirts with such witticisms as "Cele-bate Good Times" written proudly across the front. All the while, they just pray that passerbys will ask them what their agenda is, so they can launch into another one of their long-winded diatribes about the discipline and will-power it takes to abstain, as well as the fruitful bounty that awaits them on their wedding night. What these dunces fail to realize is that by having waited 30 some odd years to finally knock boots, they'll be as skilled in the sack as Mike Damone, but not nearly as cool. The end result will be hours of crying and self-doubt, on what should be the most important day of your life. This will have a significant effect on your marriage, as your partner will look at you like a complete failure. As the marriage further deteriorates, your partner will begin sleeping with the mailman, the pizza delivery boy, and everyone else she can get her hands on. This will leave you a timid and broken man, causing your children to walk all over you and steal money from your wallet to pay for tickets to Hoobastank concerts. Your office productivity will slip and you'll be fired and replaced (ideally by the guy who's been diddling your wife. It's my fantasy, play along.) With no job and no prospects, you'll quickly be slapped with divorce papers, abandoned by your children, and become the joke of the entire town. Well played, virgin. I hope it was all worth it.

"(sobbing) Is this what I saved myself for?"

To make matters even worse, the negative impact of virgins on our ecosystem is further amplified by the tendency of a good number of people, particularly men, to try to "take someone's V-card." When you ask these suckers why on Earth they would put in the time and effort necessary to topple some stupid virgin's wall of chastity, the inevitable response is, "Well, it's the challenge, dude." Oh, it's the fucking challenge, is it? If it's a challenge you want, pick up the violin. You won't have to tell it you love it before it lets you play. Or try learning Russian. I can guarantee that you won't have to take your textbook on dozens of expensive dates or let it cry on your shoulder before it gives up the goods. Deflowering virgins isn't some Holy Grail. The fucking HOLY GRAIL is the Holy Grail! I can picture some smug asshole in an Argyle sweater and a scarf pretentiously draped over his shoulders reading this and saying, "Well, Mary Magdalene was actually the Holy Grail," and then fondling himself as he thinks about how smart and well-read he is. Before you de-pants, remember that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute. So, if your line of thinking is that the Holy Grail wasn't just a chalice, then it was actually a total whore. That's fine with me. But by putting forth the effort it takes to deflower some broad, all you've succeeded in doing is perpetuating the ridiculous notion that it's worthwhile for women to remain celibate. The long-term consequences of this trend are dire. Some social science theorists predict that as more people abstain, society will devolve into an anarchic, post-apocalyptic type state, in which blood-thirsty, brain-eating virgins will roam the barren wastelands, looking for remaining members of the Resistance to bite, infect with their virgin toxins, and subsequently convert to celibacy.

A band of virgin marauders advancing on innocent civilians.

Approximately every 7.3 seconds, a young man or woman decides to abstain from sex. The future looks bleak, friends, but there a few of us out there that will refuse to become indoctrinated into the celibacy agenda. Know this, virgins. We shall go on to the end. We shall fight you on the seas and oceans. We shall fight you on the beaches. We shall fight you on the landing grounds. We shall fight you on the fields and in the streets. We shall fight you in the hills. We shall never surrender. Viva La Resistance.

Criss Angel: Kill yourself

According to Wikipedia, Criss Angel is the star and creator of the A&E Network show Criss Angel Mindfreak. If you are like me, however, you know him as the dude who seemingly parks his meat in anything he wants. Recently, this douche-of-the-decade candidate has been delving into the pastrami curtains of Holly Madison, better known as Hugh Hefner’s ex. Other stallions in his stable of exes are Britney Spears, Pam Anderson, Cameron Diaz, Paris Hilton, Miss Nevada, and all types of other whores. Ok, so that list would be more impressive if this were 2001, but still, you get the point.

Did I mention he is a magician? I guess there isn’t much else out there for the popular “Hot chicks that are into magicians” fetish. Exhibit A. Exhibit B. Now, I’m not saying that magicians don’t have sex appeal, because that would be a lie. But, Criss Angel? Really? It would be hard to find a bigger douche in a Hollister. On Long Island.

Not surprisingly, Criss Angel is actually from Long Island. Second, he dresses like, I don’t even know. A vampire? Not scary enough. A biker? A goth? Also, I guarantee there is something weird going on with his cock. I can see him having a Prince Albert or maybe some kind of chain that is woven through his sack.

What happened to magicians pulling rabbits out of hats? Did I miss the meeting where society collectively came together and decided that we wanted our magicians to be suicidal maniacs that constantly put their lives in danger for our amusement? I won’t haze you by putting the youtube clips of him doing his “tricks,” but here is a short list of the stunts he has pulled: walking on water, levitating, floating between two buildings, causing a Lamborghini to disappear, surviving in an exploding C4 Crate, cutting himself in half in full view of an audience and getting run over by a steamroller while lying stomach down on a bed of glass.

I think I have found the cure for my current state of unemployment. Get a job as Criss’ assistant and make sure I “forget” to unlock the hatch so he can escape. That, or stab him in the skull.