Archive for June, 2010

Are you serious? We have to do this again?

(I’m afraid so. – ed.)

These are always just…horrifying. I have nightmares for weeks after these.

(I don’t really see an alternative. – ed.)

EVERYTHING is an alternative. It could just be a monkey playing around in its own filth for a thousand words!

(Just get the damn tape. – ed.)

I hate you so much.

(Noted. – ed.)

Ugh. Hi everyone. So apparently Fuhrer Ed is demanding that, due my propensity these past few weeks to get distracted by shiny objects and/or breasts and then wander off to do something else instead of writing as should be my due diligence, I must pay the price. Thus, I am being forced into what could be labeled as a violation of the Geneva Convention rules on torture and must watch and report on…damnit…another one of Dan Eats Cat Food’s failed forays into the field of television with another damn “DECF Presents” abortion. This time is…

Oh God no.

(Sorry, KT. You really struck out this time. – ed.)

There are LAWS, Ed! LAWS!

(See you when you’re done watching. – ed.)

This time I have to watch…a…our attempt at a cartoon. Oh Lord. This is going to be worse than I can possibly imagine. Let’s just…get it over with.
00:01: I’m already a bit terrified. It started out with a black screen and then just exploded into a horrific neon green background. Nothing seems to be happening. The black is just falling down in shards. Hm.

00:02: FUCK! A goddamn cartoon clown literally just charged the screen, waving a meat cleaver and screaming in what sounded like a cross between Aramaic and a malfunctioning photo copier. When it hit the “screen”, it shattered, the cartoon blood forming the word “FOOD!”. I about pissed myself and I’m not even kidding.

00:04: Is…is that the main character? I really hope not. The thing is like…it’s like if you took a stick figure, stretched the limbs so that they were each three times as long as the body, bent the limbs in the middle to form impossibly sharp edges and then made the figure walk around by bouncing its legs and arms back and forth in a jerky, frightening motion. Plus its smile is crooked and doesn’t seem to fit what is ostensibly its face. Oh and its voice is, I think, Tim Curry with a headcold. I wish that was just a joke. I think it actually MAY be.

(It is. Don’t ask how we got him to agree to it. You’re better off not knowing. – ed.)

00:07: I’m starting to get a plotline and I don’t like that. Apparently this thing – Jibbles – is looking to find a human host – which he calls a Carry Friend – in the magical land of Danceytop Kingdom and has enlisted other…nightmares is honestly the best word to describe them…to help him. Let me see if I got them right. There’s Peach, a dog with rabies, canine AIDS and a missing eye. There’s Juantonio, a Mexican triple amputee who moves by hopping on his left foot. There’s Grognzxls, a demon with a permanently engorged phallus, covered only by a loincloth made of…I think that may be the Bill of Rights. Oh and then there’s the love interest, of course. Her name is Madison, Wisconsin, she’s eight feet tall and she’s dying of a rare blood disease that sometimes manifests itself in short-term psychosis. This is…damn it.

00:09: Um. I just saw Jibbles REACH INTO THE SKY, pull down a seagull, rip its head off and consume the contents of its body. I’m very unsettled right now. I mean, there’s the backbone and everything. Just…snapped like a twig. Man. Attention to detail like whoa there.

00:10: Oh. Good. Okay. Let’s just animate what appears to be a human coughing up spinal fluid. Awesome. That’s a good aesthetic choice.

00:12: WHOA. Not that it is in anyway appropriate for a cartoon show but it just lapsed into real life hardcore pornography. Pretty good quality too, which surprises me. I would have figured they would go with something…darker. Something along the lines of the dough sex thing.

(That was the first choice, honestly. And don’t mention it again. Ever. – ed.)

00:15: And the porn’s still going. Is this like…filler? Did the production manager just decide that “Oh hey we don’t have enough plot to make this episode last so we’re just going to throw in interracial fuckin’ for a few minutes”? Oh, I didn’t mention it was interracial porn? Well. It’s interracial porn.

00:17: Well, the porn’s done. I guess that’s a good thing. For whatever reason, they are now in Harlem. Annnnnnnnd the demon just got beat to death after running into a street gang and making racially and sexually charged comments while fondling its bulge. Awesome. That wouldn’t piss off like…everyone. Especially because…OH GOOD, THEY RAPED HIS CORPSE.

00:19: Why in the hell is the New York skyline on FIRE?

00:20: OH! Okay. It’s on fire because Jibbles entering this world is in fact a Harbinger of the Apocalypse and the “Carry Friend” he is trying to find is in fact a virgin that he must inhabit to become the Antichrist. This didn’t get horrific. Bear in mind that all of this is ANIMATED and not well at that. It’s like if Disney cartoons were animated by blind, drunk and clinically retarded Koreans.

00:21: And I am officially confused. Jibbles just straight up KNIFED Juantonio for being an “unbeliever”. Like…took a knife and rammed it into his stomach something around…that had to have been no less than forty-five times. Why is being an unbeliever a murderable offense when you’re trying to bring about the End of Days? Isn’t being an unbeliever a GOOD thing in that case?

(I love how you are more offended by a confusing plot point than the, you know, murder. And rape. – ed.)

00:22: Well, Madison, Wisconsin just turned on Jibbles. She attempted to slay him with…is that a tire iron? Yeah, a tire iron. Didn’t work. He just cut her from throat to crotch with that knife he had. Now he’s lying her down gently on the concrete, telling her of her betrayal and how it wounded him so and…he’s…*shiver*…kissing her. A lot more tongue than I would have thought they would have animated. What is he doing now?

00:26: Ahem. The animators of this atrocity just spent the last FOUR MINUTES showing a stick figure humping away at the wounds of a dead, slaughtered body. Four. Damn. Minutes. Without stopping. Or cutting away. And it wasn’t just repeating the same footage over and over. No. Every frame was different.

(You can thank the animators for that. – ed.)

00:27: I honestly don’t know how they’re going to end this. Jibbles just subjugated the world to his will. Is that how they’re going to finish this? The world burning and Hell reigning on Earth?

00:28: NO. They are going to make it a FUCKING DREAM SEQUENCE by Jibbles. He just woke up in a trash can and started screaming. Loud. Terrified. Insane.

00:30: The credits are rolling. He’s still screaming. That is unpleasant. That’s actually a very apt word for the entirety of this experience, honestly.
Why do you make me do this? These are never, ever fun times. They are the opposite of that, in fact.

(It’s part of a backlog. You just happen to get fucked with it every time. – ed.)

At least tell me this was the last of these damned things. You didn’t tell me that last time and I had to see THIS now.

(I honestly don’t know. As far as we know right now, yes, this was the last one. But we always could find more. – ed.)

Wonderful. So I may have to walk down this insane path again.

(Plausibly! – ed.)

Okay. Time for whiskey and ginger ale to blast this memory away. I seem to have to do that a lot now. Hope you didn’t throw up TOO much!

Sexniques: The World Cup Edition

Posted: June 24, 2010 by kaostheory in Advice, Informative
Tags: , ,

Because we here at Dan Eats Cat Food apparently are getting into the pattern of rehashing old articles with new twists instead of providing new content lately, we have gone back into the vault so that we can modify yet another sex advice piece. Wonderful. This is a great idea since the world absolutely needs more unqualified advice columnists to guide them through the treacherous waters of sexuality and personal, intimate interaction. God knows that People, if you actually listen to what we are telling you, you will be getting less ass than…I don’t know, Bolivia after a donkey genocide.

(Seriously? THAT was the comparison you decided to go with? – ed.)

Not my finest, I will admit that. I should have gone with less ass than a Mormon boy on prom night.

(That’s only marginally better. – ed.)

Less ass than a skeleton orgy?

(Are…did you suffer a massive blow to the head recently? Ugh. Just do the article, man. – ed.)

FINE. God.
The Jabulani:This one requires a little bit of pre-planning if only to give yourself the chance to make this legit. By legit, we of course mean painting your sackbag red and green and yellow and white. Be careful though. If the chick you’re focusing on banging the shit out of is Brazilian or Argentinian or really any South American or African nationality, she may feel compelled to start kicking it around. If that happens, you need to run the hell away because the Jabulani isn’t really controllable after being kicked and you don’t want to have to replace the drywall.

The Vuvuzela:This is pretty simple. It’s when she’s getting her blow on and she starts humming to increase the sensations. Except instead of a light humming that should make your knees quiver, she goes into a full-out screaming session on your dick, lips still locked on like a wet plunger stuck to a bathroom wall. Eventually, it’ll get to be too much for you and you’ll start wailing and trying to get her to stop, the humming having reached the inside of your brain and ears, making them throb unceasingly. Too late you realize that you are in fact living in Hell and the humming will never stop and you will never lose your load.

The Pitch:Well, this is obviously the playing field, isn’t it? So…the bed, the floor, the couch, the kitchen table, the hot tub, the shower, the backseat of a 1997 Jetta, the roof, the lawn, the swing in the children’s playground down the street, Australia…

The Goal:Anal. That is all.

The Handball:Ladies, we understand that you get incredibly enthusiastic when you’re smoking the Cohiba. We get it. Our wangs are pillars of manlyness and sometimes you just have to have your mouth around them. It’s cool. Sometimes you even like using your hands to mix things up, make things a little more interesting. There is nothing wrong with that. If anything, it spikes our heartrate. But when you rear back and smack the coin purse as hard as you able to in an attempt to, presumably, spur us on like a horse, we have to draw the line. That behavior is, in many circles, considered impolite.

The Free Kick:If you get one of these, you are set for life. A free kick in this context means that you have free and open access to any and all fields of play and goals. If you miss, however, you will be ruthlessly mocked and teased for all eternity. So don’t…um…blow it.

The Cards:Definitely tricky in implementation. If you go for the “goal” and experience a “handball” instead, you can give the “yellow card” for a “free kick”. Unfortunately, she can give a “red card” of her own and send you to the “locker room” (read: the couch).

The Flop:We’ve all done it. You’re with someone – some hosebeast – that you really don’t want to be with. Things didn’t work out in your favor and you’re going down a fat and greasy road. Thank God you had your wits about you enough to cap your oil drill site. All you have to do now is maintain semi-erect status for as long as you have to in order to fake the…call it the Grand Illusion if you will. That way, you can pull out, your pipe wrench long since flaccid and useless, roll over, fake going to sleep and take the fuck off as soon as Jabba the Hutt has drifted off.

The Diego Maradona:You use your fingers to bring about a religious revelation. (Hand of God, get it? Get it? Eh, it was before your time, I guess).

The Landon Donovan:You spend the majority of the sex not doing anything incredibly spectacular – a solid performance but nothing exciting – until all of a sudden, you turn on the jets, hammer on her erogenous zones and bring about a tremendous, thrashing explosion. She will be so thrilled by your performance that you will probably be treated to another round.

The Robert Green:The opposite of the Landon Donovan. You sex reasonably well for a while until, uh-oh-spaghettios, for whatever reason, something trips your trigger and you coat the inside of her net with mistimed slippery. Don’t worry. The outrage that she will have will be matched by the love from other friends who wanted nothing more than to see that bitch go down.

The Koman Coulibaly:Everyone hates you. You will never be loved. You will go home after a horrific night at the bar, not only getting shot down by every woman there but even cockblocking your friends by making a cancer joke in front of a set of twins that lost their dad just the day before. You will cry, rub yourself to a weak orgasm and then hang yourself with an extension cord. You will deserve it. Nobody will attend your funeral.

(I wouldn’t nearly call this a success. – ed.)

What would you call it then?

(Grounds for a defamation lawsuit. – ed.)

What? From that Mali dude? He’s from MALI. Like he fucking knows what defamation is.

(KAOS! – ed.)

What? It’s probably not taught in schools over there. It’s a complex concept. Even I don’t fully understand it.

(Annnnnnnd we’re stopping here before we get in more trouble. Happy trails, all. Go USA! – ed.)

Over the years, many people have been proclaiming that “rock is dead.”  Some are serious and point to Justin Bieber (hard to argue with that one) still others are being ironic and insist that now is the time for “paper and scissors to strike.”  Society generally hates those people.

But I am hear to tell you of another of another musical death – the death of Guitar Hero. This used to be the creme de la creme of video games.  Many evenings were lost to the flailing of toy guitars and the countless fourteen year olds pretending, for just a few minutes, that there talent was enough to make Eric Claption weep and retire, knowing he had seen the better axe man. Now that is all gone – people have moved back to gore and violence, leaving their musical ambitions behind. Guitar Hero is over.

Or maybe my complaint is just because my controller is broken and I have no money to buy a new one.

But hear me out. It is downright impossible to go and find any of the many peripherals associated with Guitar Hero.  You have a better chance of walking into Best Buy and finding, say,  a copy of The Declaration of Independence. Do me a favor.  Go to any Gamestop near you.  Seriously, go on.  Don’t keep reading expecting more jokes about boobs; those will come later.  You have some business to take care of.
Back yet?  Did you notice how there are practically no Guitar Hero or Rock Band accessories for sale?  That’s right; they are not for sale because there is not as big a market as there once was. You can probably find all the games severely discounted.  You may be able to find the cheap peripherals. But even the newer releases are hard to find.  A place near me had only one copy of DJ Hero left in stock. I have never even seen anyone play it.  This wholesale rejection of DJ Hero has become the norm.  The only people who honestly buy every single release are people who like hoarding or people who have no chance of ever seeing a naked woman.

Why?  Because the makers of the game over saturated the market.  We did not need dozens of titles of Guitar Hero but that is what we have.  We also do not need specific titles for specific bands (Guitar Hero Van Halen?).  Yet, again, we have them.  I am not sure why they felt this was a good idea. Oh wait; the almighty dollar.  This has lead to more bad ideas than any other thing in history.

So, what does this mean?  It means that these games will no longer cause people to line up around the block to buy them, or force kids to bring in jars full of pennies as though they are some sort of orphan in order to afford all the peripherals. What will happen is that most copies will end up collecting dust in the corner, with people casually asking if they want to play, only to be greeted with a chorus of indifference.

I remember the first time I played.  At the time, it seemed like the coolest thing in history. I, too, could be Ace Frehley (the song I kept playing was “Strutter”).  Most of the people seemed to agree with me.  The line to play at the party was what gathered the most attention.  The making out in the middle of the room?  Forget it, we had a guy who was about to five star “Sweet Child O’ Mine.”  Even the alcohol was ignored.  How strong does something have to be to get a room full of college students to ignore alcohol?  It requires some sort of cosmic radiation – trust me.

So, I have explained why Guitar Hero is dead. Bu why then would I say “long live Guitar Hero?”  Because it was an important part of our generation (you do not have to read this next paragraph.  It will contain very few jokes, except about drunken people and the memories they share).  There are many people, who, for brief periods of time, honestly did feel they were rock gods.  These same people, depending on what time in the evening it was, also believed they could fly and that the toilet was their best friend.  We all shared a fantasy.

We should not weep too long for Guitar Hero.  It was a momentous success that was the envy of all.  Besides, as with any fad, it must have a time gone.  But feel free to weep for a little while; there are great memories to be had.  Still, it is now important to go ahead and find some other way to occupy your time.

Like, for example, looking at pictures of boobs. (See?  I told you they were coming.  That pun is also completely intended.)

As always, in lieu of actually having to put thought into an article full of fresh and funny new ideas – you know, the stuff this site is based on – we have decided that in the interest of actually having something UP on the site other than old, stale material, we’ll just do what we always do. You know, find the funniest and most perverted search terms of the past month or so, show them to you and make snarky comments about them. You know. The normal lazy-ass method. Aren’t you proud?

Ugh. Anyways, we have a nice long batch of sick bastards trying to find this site. But hey, no child porn this time! So that’s a plus, I suppose. It did kind of even out, though, with some other weird shit. Couldn’t be THAT far into the mainstream, now could we?

(Just…just do this, KT. Stop stalling for time and just do the damn thing. – ed.)

FINE. God. Let’s get this bitch rollin’.

“rejected mario games”: Hey, I know where this one came from! Ah, nostalgia. For the record, the funniest rejected Mario game would in fact be ‘Raper Mario’ just because of the similarity to ‘PAPER’…well, you see where that came from.

“how many consumers really reject brands”: I am sure I don’t know the answer to that. Or why that brought them here. Wait are they still caught on the cereal thing? Crapola.

“eel loose in opry mills flood”: I’m gonna assume this is just hearsay, mainly because it doesn’t say if it’s just some pansy-ass river eel or a fucking moray or conger eel. THOSE I would worry about. But like a floppy, dick-looking river eel? Pffff.

“why does my screen go black after accept”: Because your tiny white cock just couldn’t satisfy it anymore, I’m betting.

“gund raptorsaurus stuffed animal”: I don’t know what this is but I want it.

“is attack of the killer tomatoes a stone”: Sir, I can safely say that it is not. It is a movie and possibly also a book though I am unsure of that. Still though, it is a movie. Not a stone. Movies are not in fact chiseled out of granite or what have you, at least not until James Cameron has his way.

“hateness”: I think like…half that word is unnecessary.

“usted tiene un asno apretado translation” According to Babelfish – you know the TRANSLATION program – this means, and I quote, “you have a tight ass”. Why the fuck is this a SEARCH? In what possible situation is that absolutely required?

“cortana gagged”: I knew – KNEW – that writing that video games thing with that fetish involved would lead to this. Damn it.

“bdsm games cut”: DAMN it.

“is henry a good name for your penis?”: Bud, it’s YOUR penis. You can call it Lord Huffleton von Codswallop and it would be fine. Actually, go with that one instead of Henry, honestly.

“any way to get out of a felony if its minor”: The word “felony” and “minor” don’t usually go in the same sentence unless it’s “felony abuse of a minor”. So I’m going to go out on a limb here and say no, no there really isn’t.

“the expression of the man ho eats more q”: I…what? Is this in code? Are you trying to tell me the Latvians have invaded? ARE YOU?

“honey bunches of oats is only for blue c”: OH SHIT! You are! Run for your lives!

“pacman cutscenes”: Oh this is fun. Yes, there are cutscenes in Pac-Man. Between the wakka wakka wakka and the fruits and the ghosts, there is a deep and rich story full of intrigue and betrayal and IT’S FUCKING PAC-MAN NO THERE ARE NO CUTSCENES.

“can fbi get you a big cat”: Yes, I suspect that they can. The question is WILL they. And that’s probably a no.

“how did i spend my weekend”: If you’re coming on the Internet to try to find answers to this question, you might want to call the local police and your friends and piece it together yourself.

“how to mckickass”: You can’t. You can only BE McKickass and since that’s me and you aren’t me, you’re not. See?

“‘green haired and hung'”: Okay this is seriously getting ridiculous.

“dangerres man”: Dangerres? It sounds in my head like Algiers. I don’t think that’s right.

“ball gag princess peach”: DAMN. IT. ALL.

“latino doctor”: Yeah, none of those here. Sorry, champ. You might want to try a racist phonebook instead.

“decoding women’s words”: Bahahaha. Good luck with that, man. That’s like trying to understand that clicking bush language while having earmuffs on.

“eat scat for food”: I am quite troubled at the prevalence of the word ‘scat’ in search results, I really am. Especially in this context. Ew.

“girl has a human footstool”: No! Bad Internet! Do not redirect hardcore S&M users to this site!

“proud beggar idioms”: What? Like…”A beggar with pride is like a horse with roller skates. It doesn’t need them and it’ll just make things more complicated than they need to be.”…something like that?

“brazilian idiom rape”: I don’t know how ANY of those words go together. That’s like a dark version of ‘purple monkey dishwasher’.

“red 40 in cereal is that made from bugs”: I don’t even have words to say to this. This is hilarious and obscenely paranoid.

“sickness that makes you curl up”: Well, I’d say that this would be pretty much any disease that attacks your stomach or nuts.

“elwood video 4chan”: Uh…maybe?

“”: Oh God. Kill me now.
We are not proud of what we have done to the world. Apparently we’re making it a much more fucked-up place to live. But you know what? We’re not like Koman Coulibaly who we are reasonably sure has forcible intercourse with the buttholes of water buffalo as he snorts straight coke off a giraffe’s back and FUCKS THE UNITED STATES.

(Yeah, not even going to discipline him this time. He’s right. Fuck him. Have a great day, readers! – ed.)

How To Judge How You Watch The World Cup

Posted: June 15, 2010 by kaostheory in Informative

Once every four years, something happens to the world. Something strange and otherworldly. Time seems to stop and the world is brought together for a while to compete in one of the most intense events in the world.

I am talking, of course, about the Winter Olympics. Yes, the Winter Olympics. Where the fate of the world’s bragging rights rests on the shoulders of those noble heroes who snowboard and luge for a living. The Winter Olympics where entire countries stop while waiting for…

Wait. I’m just being informed that nobody save Canada and Russia actually give two shits about the Winter Olympics and that I’m actually supposed to be talking about the World Cup. Who knew? Anyways.

Instead of telling you how to watch the World Cup (drunk and obnoxious, naturally), we’re in fact here to tell why you should choose a team to root for, going group by group until it’s finished or we get bored and crap out. Let’s get to it!
Group A

Mexico: Supporting Mexico is the perfect way to (passive-aggressively) stick it to Arizona in opposition to what you believe to be an unjust and racist law passed. Also, if you love tacos and burritos, this is the one to gun for.

South Africa: If you want this guys to win, you must really like the sound of a billion pissed-off hornets drowning out other crowd noise as well as permeating your dreams for the rest of your life. Plus the hometown thing, I guess.

France: Rooting for France is a quandry-causing situation. On one hand, you get to root for a team with a realistic chance of winning the Cup. On the other hand, you have to root for FRANCE to win the Cup. It’s kind of a lose-lose thing either way.

Uruguay: You’re rooting for Uruguay? Well, I guess I can’t stop you. I hope you like dealing with with space mantises though. (See ‘Tactics’ as a reference for that little joke. – ed.)

Group B

South Korea: I mean, it’s South Korea. You get what you root for here.

Argentina: You’re pretty much going for these guys because of a short, overweight, has-been former legend who cheated to win a Cup and has agreed to run through Buenos Aires naked if they win. So…shock value, then.

Nigeria: I’ll be honest with you. The only thing I know about this team is that Hakeem Olajuwon does NOT play for them. So, there’s that.

Greece: After their first showing against Argentina, you actually might be better off not rooting for anyone. Zeus is pissing himself in anger at these guys.

Group C

United States: USA! USA! USA! USA! (Note: Dan Eats Cat Food throws its support ONLY behind our American boys – ed.)

England: If you’re a limey bastard, eat spotted dick, think Wayne Rooney and David Beckham are God and Jesus, hate freedom and condescend to everyone not from Engerland, then by all means, root for this team.

Slovenia: Really?

Algeria: Even more of a ‘really?’ than Slovenia and that takes a lot, to be honest.

Group D

Germany: Thus far, these guys have looked the strongest out of every team in the Cup. For those of us who don’t want the Fourth Reich, that’s horrifying to see.

Ghana: What you have here is an upstart African team. You could probably do worse than a home continent team that is starting to actually make a push and upsets.

Serbia: These guys are tough, scary, rough and violent Eastern Europeans. Probably best to at least have a passing interest if you enjoy your kidneys intact and in place inside your body and not resting in ice in a cooler.

Australia: Kangaroos. I mean, really. Kangaroos. What’s NOT to like? Also they have amazing sports that mix rugby, football and soccer and are incredibly fun to watch at 2 AM when you’re a sixer into the night.

Group E

Netherlands: While this team sounds like it should just be run by Martin Short (Three Amigos, really? – ed.), they are actually one of the better teams in the tournament. Plus they have names that make you sound like you’re playing ‘Chubby Bunny’ when you try to pronounce them.

Japan: They upset Cameroon. That should tell you something.

Camaroon: They were upset by Japan. That should tell you something.

Denmark: Basically like the Netherlands except crappier. Root for these guys if you can’t afford to root for the Netherlands. They’re the poor man’s Netherlands. I just like writing Netherlands. It sounds like a great crotch euphemism.

Group F

Italy: You like these guys if you live in the four years ago, respect Jorge ‘Assfucker’ Larrionda as a referee and like a team that’s the equivalent of a nursing home on the pitch.

New Zealand: They play about as well as just plain Zealand. Which is to say, quite poorly, in fact.

Paraguay: Exactly like Uruguay in every way except without space mantises and with more talent.

Slovakia: You probably got these guys confused with Slovenia. It’s a common mistake. Honestly.

Group G

Ivory Coast/Cote d’Ivoire: Gotta be honest. These guys are pretty awesome. Didier Drogba is playing with a damn broken arm, they held Portugal to a scoreless tie and their team name is The Elephants. I like ’em.

Portugal: Let’s be straight here. You’re only rooting for these guys because you have a crush on Cristiano Ronaldo. You know what? He’s a flopper. There. I said it. He’s like the Portuguese Dennis Rodman of soccer.

Brazil: The only reasons you should be rooting for Brazil would be if you live there, grew up there, are of Brazilian descent or have followed them since you were really little – all of which are fine and understandable. If none of those are the case, you should not be rooting for them. You probably like the Yankees, Lakers, Red Wings and Patriots too.

North Korea: Kim John ll told you to.

Group H

Chile: They can survive earthquakes and come out of it smelling like a rose. Plus they’re hot, hot, hot. (I hate you for that pun. – ed)

Spain: Oh, wow! Spain! You must really like not taking chances! See: Brazil. This is like Brazil Part 2.

Switzerland: Let me give you a hint here. If they’re neutral in the world, they’ll be neutral on the pitch. I hope you like watching ties. Scoreless ties, even.

Honduras: No, you’re not.
And there you have it. Your definitive guide to choosing a World Cup team. May your team go deep into the tournament and make you happy. Well, as long as your team is the United States. Every other team can suck one.

(USA! USA! – ed.)


One hundred entries – and yes, we are counting the bitchy little cop-out ‘hiatus’ entry AND the intro entry because it’s disingenuous to say that they didn’t count as posts since they clearly did go up on the site – and we’re still rollin’ hard. That’s difficult to believe, honestly. If you had asked us even a year ago if this site would be updating three times a week and going, if not strong, at least marginally well, all of the writers would have pointed and laughed at you until we were blue in the face and our trousers were soaked through with uncontrolled urine. If you had told us we’d update the site a hundred times, we would have vomited from laughter and passed out. If you had told us that we wouldn’t have just gotten bored with it and walked away because a dog covered in tin foil just ran by barking with his soaking wet, pantsless owner chasing after him, we would have told you to stop having your morning coffee with hallucinogens.

But holy shit, here we are. A hundred entries. We have been bringing the high heat for a HUNDRED little posts. Frankly, we have no business doing so.

Following that segue, we figure that it’s the perfect time to announce that…we’ll keep this shit going as long as we can. What? Did you think we were going to quit? HELL no. We will keep writing here and entertaining all of you until our fingers fall off or we are shut down and arrested for accidentally inciting someone Catcher In The Rye-style to attempt to assassinate a prominent world figure. Just effwhyeye, the current favorite is Ke$ha with Bieber running a close second. We’d be okay with that.

Anyways, in the interest of padding this entry out to make it not a self-congratulatory wank-fest, we’ve decided to explain one of the biggest and most frequent questions that are asked in dealing with the site. No, not whether or not we’re drunk off our asses writing any of this material. No, not whether or not the Inferno was just a dream. No, not whether all the different writers are in fact real or are just figments of one lonely guy’s imagination. We’re going to let you in on the origin of Dan Eats Cat Food itself.

The year was 2009 and the world – and the writers – was young. The scene is a normal dinner off-campus – due to the college’s overwhelming ability to create food on a daily basis that could be charitably be compared to that style of cuisine normally found on feedlots. This particular meal took place at a nearby Mexican restaurant, mainly because all of the participants were of age and, quite frankly, were suffering from a quite large blood deficiency of margarita. There were five that ate at that fateful meal. There was the faithful leader, KaosTheory. There was Pred3000, the Dan of DECF fame. There was Raybestos and his girlfriend, Double J. And there was another female friend of the group whom we shall refer to as Taiwan. About halfway through the pitcher of frozen margarita – complete with requisite cold headaches which let us digress for a moment to declare should qualify under the Geneva Convention as biological warfare, damnit – the conversation shifted, as was its wont, towards giving Pred shit. As usual, it began with Ray and KT ragging on Pred about the attractiveness of Pred’s mother, a fact that to this day sends him into throes of rage. Quite entertaining. Over the course of the conversation, the topic eventually moved towards the proclivity of Pred to become extremely suggestible while intoxicated. And here is where we join our heroes. (Note: this conversation may not be EXACTLY word-for-word transcribed. It WAS over a year and a half ago. – ed.)
Pred3000: Oh, that’s bull. I do not become suggestible.

Raybestos: Really? You make me mix CDs – you ASK if anyone wants a CD burned. You freely give mixers for drinks to people. You are all over the place.

KaosTheory: Hence, you are Rogue.

Pred: That’s not why.

JJ/Taiwan: Yes, it is.

Pred: That doesn’t make me easily influenced.

KT: Bullshit. We get more of that margarita in you, we could make you do whatever we want.

Pred: No.

Taiwan: Do it!

KT: What can we make you do?

Pred: Nothing!

JJ: Probably run around the block naked but nobody wants that.

Pred: I don’t want that!

KT: Then we agree!

Ray: Would you make me a CD when we get back?

Pred: No.


Pred: I mean, if you want me to, I suppose I will.


KT: Seriously, man. I bet we could make you eat cat food if you were drunk enough.

Pred: WHAT?

JJ: Yes!

Taiwan: Do it!

KT: Come on, man. Let’s go for it.

Ray: Don’t be a bitch. Let’s get you some cat food.

Pred: No! I won’t do it!

KT: We get you drunk, you will.

Pred: Sigh. Okay, when I do this…

Ray: You’ll DO IT?!

Pred: I didn’t say that!

KT: Yes you did! You said ‘when’ you do it. Not ‘if’. ‘When’. ‘When’ states that you have agreed to do it. It’s just the time that has to get hammered out.

Pred: It does not.

Taiwan: It really kinda does.

No, to answer the question I know you have, Pred has not consumed the cat food yet. Even though we’ve been over tons and tons of stipulations – we give him money for it, he gets a fancy dinner with it, he gets wine, one of us dresses as a waiter, he doesn’t have to keep it down, etc., etc. – no progress has been made. And with our group going our separate ways to separate cities because of an economy that has enjoyed rimming college students for a couple years now, the bet seems to be on hold. However, rest assured, gentle readers. When the time comes – and it will come – that he eats the cat food, we here at Dan Eats Cat Food will be there to cover it.

Oh and to answer your other question, KT wanted to start writing comedy and that was the funniest name we came up with at the time so that kinda just stuck. Nothing too exciting there.

So from all of us here, thank you, friends, for reading us. We do what we do for and to you. Keep on reading. The best is yet to come.

Okay now fuck off. I’ma drink beer until I’m puking straight-up Coors.

It should come as no surprise that stoners do not require much to entertain them.  Yet there are still many mistakes that people make.  It is not merely enough to show a stoner something stupid make him justify his ironic on a whim purchase by making him laugh.  You see, he thinks he is smart.  Take the movie Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.  It is a bad film, but one that has been kept alive by giggling college students who stay awake until five A.M. watching it. Therefore, it is a requirement to cater to your demographic – who are all in their twenties, all feel world weary, and are all unemployed.

1) The Soundtrack-This is listed as the first item, not because it is the most vital, but because it is the most overlooked.  It is not enough to have programed songs in your soundtrack that were dated in 1983.  No, you need to try and be original. Hire some indie band to at least contribute a song to you. That way, you can claim your production was a way to “stick it to the man,”  a phrase that has all stoners nodding their heads in approval. Or, if you are truly a Renaissance Man, you can write your own material.  This usually does nothing except allow you to claim you are a Renaissance Man.  Besides, in the case of Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, using music only helped to accentuate the camp value, and thus, value for stoners.  Don’t ever fall into the trap of thinking that the soundtrack is not important. In some ways, it is the most important thing about your film.
2) Pseudo-Philosophy-What is it that sets the stoner apart from everyone else?  Well, he claims to be smarter than everyone else.  It is true that there are many who claim to be smarter but are not.  What sets the stoner apart is that he does have a passing familiarity with certain items that an educated person might.  Therefore, it is important to indulge in this familiarity.  Does the stoner claim to be a Proust fan but has only read one page of it?  Have a character look into the camera and say “I remember all things past.”  That is as far as you need to go.  The stoner will feel he has experienced something deep. Mention something about “The Superman” and the stoner will yell out “Nietzsche!” as though it is some sort of Pavlovian response.  Heck, use Pavlov.  You don’t have to worry about knowing what any of it means.  The stoner will not either.
3) Irony (Laughing at things no one else will laugh at)-OK, this is sort of like the topic above, but this time you are going for laughs.  You cannot be as blatant in your references.  To do that would not be funny. What you should do instead is try and hope your property may be subtle enough to be interpreted as deep. Let us look at Attack of the Killer Tomatoes. Is it about vegetarianism and how it is the only proper way?  Is it about how the consumerist society is being eaten by what it craves?  No; it’s  a dumb movie about killer tomatoes.  But do not tell the stoner this fact.  He will be able to discuss about how it is something like that, before going back to mourning the loss of Jerry Garcia.  That will make it popular and thus make you money.

4) Casting– Now, most of you will be tempted to cast your friend who temps at an insurance company as the film’s hero and your girlfriend who works at the perfume counter at J.C. Penny’s as the love interest.  And you know what?  This is the exact right method to use.  Stoners everywhere will congratulate you on how you used “real people” as opposed to those “phony Hollywood people” even though your girlfriend will not be able to read her lines off the cue cards you will be forced to use.  Go with it; such incompetency will only increase the appeal.  The more incompetent, the better.  Know a fat real estate agent?  He can be the best friend. Homeless guy?  Promise him a sandwich and you have cast the comic relief.  Some guy that merely shows up and asks to be in the movie?  He’s the villain – after all, nothing is more villainous than a wannabe actor.

Hopefully this will help you in creating a property that will be enjoyed by those who will never be able to afford it in their lives.  Go forth and conquer!