Posts Tagged ‘Awesome’

We’re doing the penis name thing again. This one always seems to get some nice traffic and anything original is damn sure not in the pipeline quite yet. Blame grad school, heavy drinking, sexual frustration, and working on an actual for-publication book. Yay for being twenty-six!
If you engage in non-consensual sex and/or if no woman will touch you, name it Dr. No. This one is basically a gimmie here. Plus it’s a good warning for anyone. It’d be like calling your dick The Hungerer or 23-Skidoo. It’s basically like painting it bright red and giving it an alarm system.

If you prefer to cyber/text/email/Skype/letter/horsedrawn carriage in a long-distance sexfest, name it From Russia with Love. Also be prepared to have anything and everything you send used against you if you want to go into a political career. Hope you like your cock on the New York Post front page!

If you like to diddle rich cougars in the back of their Escalades, name it Goldfinger. If you’re good, she may even give you an Oddjob in return. No, I don’t know what that is, but no, I’m not proud of that joke either.

If you insist on only having sex in the middle of a lightning storm (inside or out, doesn’t matter), name it Thunderball. This may also apply if you bangarang the chick so hard that you’re making loud clapping noises, like some BBW kind of porno.

If you fire away and then come back for a second round (but only a second round), name it You Only Live Twice. There…wasn’t a whole lot of funny ore to be mind out of this one. I have the sinking feeling that that may apply for a lot of these. Stupid!

If you are banging Kate Middleton on the side, first off let me congratulate your spectacular assholery but also, name it On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Seriously, though. If you are doing that, you are a champion.

If you are fucking one of multiple different porn stars that use precious stones as either a first or last stage name, name it Diamonds Are Forever. Also, get yourself checked out. That syphilis scare ain’t no joke.

If at any point you have had sex to the musical stylings of Paul McCartney, name it Live and Let Die. This could also apply if you were having sex on the edge of a cliff and, at the point of climax, your partner pulled off and rolled off the edge into oblivion but she was still hanging on by the tips of her fingers but you orgasmed and let her drop to her death. Maybe not in that order. That’s an oddly specific kink though.

If you have ever roleplayed as Christopher Lee, complete with extremely uncomfortable spousal abuse, name it The Man with the Golden Gun. Also, if you’ve ever involved a midget in your sexplay. That works too.

If you…I don’t know. Wait! If you’ve done the dirty with Anna Chapman, name it The Spy Who Loved Me. Saved by a hot redhead! First time I’ve ever said that…or written it.

If you’re super into spanking, name it Moonraker. Get it? It’s a vocabulary joke. It also applies if you put it in her dumper.

If you are involved with a chick who is really, really against the idea of any sort of sexual exhibitionism, name it For Your Eyes Only. You should also consider discussing your relationship and what sort of sexual experimentation you both would be comfortable with in order to strengthen your lives.

If you…you know what? No. This is too freaking obvious. You make your own joke for this one when you name it Octopussy.

If you get off watching snuff films, you sick fuck, name it A View to a Kill. This also counts if you produce what is widely considered to be the worst sex possible within the context of movies. Also if you’re Christopher Walken, in which case, welcome to the site, Mr. Walken! I love your work.

If you wreck a girl so hard that she’s dazed and confused and not really sure where she’s at, first off, congrats, and second off, name it The Living Daylights. You might also want to check her for bruising or tearing or maybe even a concussion. That’s probably not healthy.

If you…are James Bond? I guess? Name it Licence to Kill. This one also makes it impossible to create a filthy ambiguity to it. Thanks a whole lot, MGM or whatever. Oh! If you’re a two-shot Scott (or Timothy, I guess) and can only do it twice with a chick before you pass her off to another, more handsome, and younger dude. Also name it that then.

If you’re into peeing on a girl’s face (also sick fuck), then you pretty much have to name it GoldenEye. Gross. More like “pinkeye in a day or two”. Maximum. You probably won’t be able to look at her in the eye for a while either. That’s a dark step.

If you fantasize about Teri Hatcher and then about Teri Hatcher being dead, name it Tomorrow Never Dies . Also if newspapers turn you on for some reason. I’m not sure what kind of philia that is and I’m not sure I want to know.

If you’re down for a little erotic asphyxiation, name it The World Is Not Enough. This only makes sense if you’ve seen the movie and if you have, you’ll find this apropos. It also applies if you’ve rubbed one out to Denise Richards, but let’s be honest, that covers like 3/4 of all mankind – past and present.

If you prefer to engage in delayed orgasm techniques, name it Die Another Day. See, because orgasm in French is “le petit mort” or “the Little Death” so if you ‘die’ another day, you’re cumming…later. You know what, I just murdered this joke. Moving on.

If you like being tied to a chair and having your nuts pounded with a length of knotted rope, you’re probably sterile by now. Also, name it Casino Royale.

If you fuck the pain away, just like Peaches, name it Quantum of Solace. It also works if you had a weird fetish for motor oil and fire.

If you come back after what some previous people called a weak sex and absolutely blow their minds, name it Skyfall

Now that those titles are done, it’s on to characters and such!

If you’re always full of surprises and like bringing new toys into the equation, name it Q.

If you love having sex and just don’t even care too much about the condition it is (quantity over quality), name it Pussy Galore.

If you have it bad for this one particular person but never manage to get quite close enough to seal the deal, name it Moneypenny. And God have mercy on your poor sex life.

If you just want a hilarious name, name it Albert R. Broccoli. You could do something here about it being green but…blech.

If you’ve got a Louisville Slugger swinging down by your knees, name it Plenty O’Toole. Heh. Tool.

Finally, if you’re just going to be a bragging asshole, call it what it is and name it Mr. Big.
(We would like to stress that we don’t suggest any of these names for real, especially not the more distasteful ones. – ed.)

Speak for your damn self! I’m Mr. Big now and forever!

We here at Dan Eats Cat Food are nothing if not helpful…so, really, many times we are nothing. But we’re here to make up for it. You see, upon going through the site statistics, we noticed something odd. The most popular article is, in fact, written by Pred3000. This, of course, cannot stand. I mean, really. He hasn’t posted an article in well over a year! Then again, to be fair, we’re only giving you an article about once a month and that’s only because we have to justify the cost somehow. Shut up about it. KT is an anxiety-riddled, depressive, incredibly sexually frustrated, and probably alcoholic grad student. He SHOULD be perfectly suited to being funny constantly because of that, we know. Basically, he’s just a lazy bastard. Where were we? Oh yeah. The article. Since we can’t allow the most popular article to go un-piggybacked on,we are going to present to you today a more informative and in-depth guide to masturbating to Internet pornography than that bastard did. We hope you enjoy and can make use of our…um…useful suggestions.
DO: Use the Internet to your advantage. It’s a wild, woolly, wonderful place full of literally quadrillions of ideas and thoughts and pictures and words being thrown around. This is the Golden Age of information transference and it is at your fingertips with the click of a button. You can go from researching the Fall of Rome by way of Norwegian black metal to reading a webcomic written and illustrated by some desu weirdo who likes drawing anthropomorphic leopards in leather pants kiss-fighting with a ficus in a bikini to watching a video about a cat firing a brick through a plate glass window and howling with laughter. Anything and everything you can dream of is there. Also there’s a whole lot of fucking that you can look at.

DON’T: Assume that because something is on the Internet that it is worth seeing. Remember, 50 Shades of Grey started as a Twilight fan fiction online. There but for the grace of God goes every single hardcore slash Gandalf/Harry Potter/Spongebob/Jabba the Hutt/Vishnu/Alec Baldwin fic out there.

DO: Sample the bounty of the Net. See what’s out there. Don’t be afraid to branch out. Maybe you come across a fetish you didn’t know about and have one of the most rocking-ass orgasms of your life. It’s possible! Not necessarily likely but possible. Who knows? You may actually enjoy watching a naked teenage anime chick being inflated like a balloon, being popped by a black man’s cock, and having mice come to eat her entrails. YOU might. I just kind of threw up. A lot.

DON’T: Be stupid about it. There are clearly areas to avoid. Horse porn. Maybe want to steer clear. Child porn. That’s a no-no in the bad place. The area where the underwear covers. Sex with bridges. You should not also rise. The aforementioned “inflationigrarumpebanturmuresextaphilia”. Even just putting that into a translator brought on the urps again. Damn you philiacs!

DO: Learn alternative ways of masturbation. Self-love is still a love life and you should switch it up to keep things fresh. If you’re always a southpaw (or a south-gnarled and withered claw), why not try pitching to Righty? Or on your knees? Or on your back? Hell, even the shower could be fun and you can clean your filthy,war-torn body afterwards. It’s a double duty dunker!

DON’T: Fuck your boxspring. Seriously. Don’t do it. You will never repair the damage an errant coil does to your dickskin.

DO: Use an aggregation website (you know the ones that are out there) to explore your tastes freely with relatively minor risk of viruses or random gay porn popping up and murdering your hard-on with great vengeance. They are free to use and have an incredibly expansive display to choose from. Just be careful not to Wiki-jump the different videos, especially the stuff with titles that are just random numbers and letters and/or are written in Spanish. Just…don’t do that. Save yourself a whole lot of terror-crying.

DON’T: Download those bullshit programs that some sites demand you use in order to…utilize their website. Fuck that noise. It just adds more clutter onto your PC and makes plausible deniability less likely down the road. Besides, if you are so desperate to download things, there are ways around every problem. I obviously don’t recommend or support those since they are the mark of low character, but I cast no such aspersions on the stoner dude down the hallway from your apartment that stays up until 4 in the morning listening to Rage Against the Machine, smoking pot and probably meth, and working on his anarchist’s manifesto. He can probably hook you up with some Debbie Does Six Day Laborers Behind the LA Fitness in South Central.

DO: Pay for porn when you can afford it. I know, I know. You just felt your heart seize a little. Let me explain. Paying for porn = more porn being made = more choices for you to make. And the cycle repeats. Also it’s someone’s career choice, you asshole, and nobody wants to fuck for free. Or so I’ve been told.

DON’T: Decide that, hey, this actress I jerk off to is on Twitter. I should Tweet her my dick! Stoppit. If you had people who wanted to see your cock, you wouldn’t be jerking off to Internet porn, would you? Leave her alone, get your Jergens’ and cry about yourself.

DO: Figure out what you like best and go wild with it. You like redheads (and who doesn’t?), you find every redhead video out there. You like big black girls taking it up the butt, go nuts. You like trannies rubbing each other with I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter and pouring white wine everywhere while La Vie Boheme plays? …try RedTube. That shit has everything.

DON’T: Become so well-versed in porn stars, their names, and their appearances that you can name them in polite conversation. If you’re talking about your pornographic tastes in public, there is something severely wrong with you in the head. Either that or you are playing a DANGEROUS gambit of which we can’t approve. If that is where your path is taking you, know that we cannot follow you.

DO: Finally understand that they are real people doing real, sometimes horrifying acts on camera for your amusement. They deserve your dignity, your money, your respect, and about five squirts of baby batter or so, depending on how long you’ve done. Bon appetit, horndogs.
(This was disgusting. – ed.)

You’re disgusting! HOOOOO!

(And we’re done here. – ed.)

Some of us just find out at different points in our lives that they are just careers that are…not quite for us. Some may be not up to our talent levels, some may be unsavory or embarrassing. And then some just…are a bad, bad idea. For example, you wouldn’t want someone who is naturally gifted athletically to try to take on computer programming. You wouldn’t want someone with social anxiety running for public office (wait…shit.). You wouldn’t want a politician to be a lion tamer…or maybe you would, depending on the politician.

The point is that there are careers where it just does not fit the personality involved. Case in point? I’m no longer allowed to teach sexual education in elementary schools…or anywhere, for that matter. Let me explain.

Sometimes in the course of human events, it becomes necessary to take a part-time job in order to stave off poverty, alcoholism, and a broken left wrist from bored masturbation. Say, a part-time job such as substitute teaching. Well, with my glowing resume bulging with qualifications, the school district I approached offered me my choice of three schools to sub at: the high school, the middle school, or the elementary school. Well, I declined the high school because the prospect of barely legal teenager girls becoming magnetically attracted to the AK-47 in my pants would just complicate matters. I turned down the middle school job as well because middle schoolers are basically walking, talking balls of hormones and insanity. That left me with one choice: the elementary school. That seemed relatively safe, I thought. I was, however, sadly unprepared.

You see, I managed to have the incredibly poor luck of substitute teaching on the day that the boys and girls are separated by gender and brought to the library or the gym and shown a little film designed to try to stave off the oncoming train of pain that is puberty. You all know the one and if you don’t, well…luck has smiled upon pre-teen you. Well, since the gym teacher was a female and I was taking the place of one of the fifth-grade English teachers, I was drafted (read: forced) into joining and helping out by the principal, one third-grade Science teacher (not a dude, by the way), and the janitor. For some reason. I’m not sure he was there as part of the help.

Anyways, the first half of the lesson was fine, albeit what you would expect. Fifth-grade boys giggling at the words ‘penis’ and ‘vagina’ and ‘sex’ and then having the laughter stolen from their lives by the sight of a 1980s mother pushing a ten-pound bloody sack out of a hole the width of an iPod. You can tell which students have gone through the video because they walk around for the next two days with the thousand-yard-stare.

And then I made things worse.

You see, in a stunning display of unjustifiable bad judgment, the principal and other teacher decided to step out to grab some coffee and probably bang in the electrical room, leaving me alone with fifty already-traumatized ten year old boys. The janitor had already been forced to leave after making some sounds watching the video that were akin to a lion dying of cancer on a hot savannah with ants crawling up its ass. Thus, I had thirty minutes and a captive audience that was going to be receptive to everything I would say. This is, as we say, a really bad fucking idea.

To begin with, I explained what the class they were in at the moment really was – less “sex education” and more “This is what your penis will bring upon the world”.

I told them of just how much suffering and pain they would create through those potentially (in the future) four-to-ten inch skin snakes currently tucked into their Spiderman briefs. I spoke to them of the all-consuming fire that would rage through them when some spurned lover or sadistic band geek would knock their dangling sack back up into their lower intestines. And I explained to them just how much power their scepters would allow them to wield, were they only man enough to grab hold of it. The power, not the penis. Well, maybe both.

I would rewind the tape and pause it at the worst possible frame and just let it sit and stare at them, the Eye of Sauron burning into their souls, as I screamed at them: “Boys, this woman is in agonizing pain and you know who caused it? YOU. You did this! WITH YOUR PENIS! Your penis entered her and brought her into this unimaginable agony! SHE IS BEING RIPPED ASUNDER BECAUSE OF YOUR INEPTITUDE!”

The baby would come out and they would scream in terror again. Rewind, fast-forward, and repeat. The horror of seeing a full bush suck a howling blood monkey back into it like some sort of primordial gaping maw cannot be overstated. After a while, it almost became comical and the urge to play Yakety Sax during the thing was nigh unstoppable. Of course, then the placenta came out and it was game over.

After about ten minutes of that, I decided to finish up my time with them by explaining to them the process of sex, pregnancy, and birth. I can actually recall the exact wording because apparently security footage has improved to the point where subtitles exist.

“This entire process begins when you engage in the act of sexual intercourse. Nobody can really TELL you what sex is, but I shall endeavor to try to explain it. When a man loves someone or simply just feels the biological impulse to blow a load of genetic material from his scrotum, he engages in sex with the woman. Or man. Or transvestite. Or even his hands or a Ziploc bag full of water placed between the mattress and box spring of his bed. Anyways. There are many various ways to approach the act of love, such as [from this point, I spent about ten minutes listing all the ways to fuck – ALL of the ways]. Inevitably, something will happen and a mistake will be made. The condom may break – a condom being a piece of rubber you tie around your junk like a bowtie to make it all fancy, or the pill may fail – the pill being ecstasy, a powerful hallucinogen, or you may just be drunk and say “Eh, fuck it. Chance.”. When this mistake happens, those little Phelpsians nestled in that bean bag will explode into her with the force of a neutron bomb. The sperm, as they are called, will accelerate towards her uterus (her balls in her belly) at a speed of well over a thousand miles per hour. They will strike the uterus and explode, sending genetic shrapnel throughout her vagina. One of those shards may even fly far enough up into her to lodge itself in one of her eggs, since women contain chicken, as you well know. Once lodged in the egg, it downloads a computer virus that infects the egg, turning it into a self-replicating human, You will instantly know the next day if she is in the state called ‘pregnant’ because she will violently vomit when either smelling or viewing certain things, none of which you can know until it is too late, a cruel trick. This period lasts for about three months.Now, once the pregnant woman has reached the second cycle, the sun god Ra will come to you in the form of ’78 Buick and demand it as a sacrifice. However, you can appease his bloodlust with a sacrificial steak and eggs breakfast instead, the food symbolizing the merging of male and female. After a period of approximately nine months, a gong will sound from inside the woman, signifying the onset of the final process. I won’t spoil it for you here but suffice to say, there’s a lot of angry driving and police work involved. Any questions?”

It was about that time that the principal, teachers, and security burst into the room, grabbing me by the arms and legs and forcibly ejecting me from the window of the school, told never to return on pain of actual death. Seriously. They showed me the gun they would use to end my life.

I got paid pretty well though so…that was a plus.
(That was the most horrifying thing I’ve ever read. – ed.)

We both know that’s not true.

(Well…I did have to read Twilight on a dare once. – ed.)

There you go! Deuces yo!

Dan Eats Cat Food Blogs The Oscars 2012

Posted: February 26, 2012 by kaostheory in Awards
Tags: , , ,

As always, Dan Eats Cat Food is here to watch the Oscars with all of you lovely people, complete with cursing, anger, incredibly inappropriate sexual commentary, and irreverence. Obligatory drink in hand, of course. God bless being a faceless Internet writer. Without any further ado, let’s do this. Oh, and for the record, the order and categories and names were filled in beforehand because in 2011, my hands nearly exploded trying to write constantly for like four hours. Okay, now let’s do this.
7:06: On the red carpet. I mean, I’m not but the Oscars coverage is. Robin Roberts is still annoying.

7:07: Fuck The Hunger Games. It’s like Twilight Version 2.0. Chick crap.

7:10: I hate George Clooney. Stacy Kiebler. God. Just…my brother and I have almost come to blows before. That’s all I’ll say.

7:12: You can almost SEE Tim Gunn restraining himself from attacking Brad Pitt. Not in a violent way. And the screen switches to Sandra Bullock. It’s interesting. She’s in a blouse and pants, not the gown. It’s not a bad look, to be honest. And she’s going for ‘sexy times’ and succeeding.

7:14: I don’t know who this Nina is but she sounds like she’s on a shitload of Valium. Or is retarded. Or maybe both.

7:16: I’ve said it already but Robin Roberts is so damn annoying. She was annoying when she covered sports too. Like a steel wool scrubber to the eardrums.

7:18: John Carter looks badass. Actually, on a tangent, the advertisement for Coriolanus made my testosterone gland about explode when I watched it earlier. Shakespeare, modern day adaptation, Gerard Butler, and Ralph Fiennes. Hell to the yes.

7:20: Natalie Portman. Good Lord. And in red so…points. More points. All the points.

7:21: Tom Hanks rocking the goatee! It looks good. And ha! The ‘savage horde’. Priceless.

7:23: Brian Grazer always looks like he stuck his tongue into a electrical socket. His hair is just so spiky!

7:24: This man, Don Mischer, is going to have a heart attack by the end of the show from stress. I can tell. And Chris Rock has a little fro going on. Not the best look.

7:30: Time to rock and roll! This should be an interesting show for sure. And Morgan Freeman to start us off. I like that choice. Classy and to the point.

7:31: Hahaha. Billy in a “silent movie”. And then The Descendents with the Clooney kiss. And now Moneyball and Midnight in Paris with a really really weird scene with Bieber. I’ve kinda lost track by now. But hey, Tom Cruise and Mission Impossible!

7:35: Billy Crystal with a Tintin haircut is the creepiest damn thing ever.

7:36: And here’s the man himself! Class all the way. I’m maybe a little biased though, haha. After Hathaway and Stoner from last year, a corpse would be more entertaining. But nine times hosting is nothing to sneeze at!

7:37: HUGE burn on the industry with the joke about the economy and millionaires with gold statues. And now his medley. Fantastic. These are always absolutely incredible. He knocks it out of the park every single time.

7:42: Time for Tom Hanks presenting the first award. Wow. Shoutout to the seat filler! 59 years is fantastic. The first one up is Cinematography. And the nominees are: The Artist, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Hugo, The Tree of Life, and War Horse. And the winner is: Hugo! That’s an interesting start. The dude that won looks kind of like Sam Elliot or Robert Plant. Kind of awesome.

7:44: The next one we have up is Art Direction. And the nominees are: The Artist, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2, Hugo, Midnight in Paris, and War Horse. And the winner is: Hugo. That’s the second one for them. That’s clearly the one to beat. Hah. Seriously, though, good for them. I don’t who the chick is in silver but she doesn’t look too bad for her age. At least not in the body. The fact is kind of a mess and a half.

7:46: Alright what do we have now? Oh. It’s commercial time. That works! Less heat on my crotch. And I am so so glad that I went through and did the names and categories early. It saves me so much time in the typing now. I haven’t been nearly inappropriate enough tonight though. I need to get on that. And on Ellie Kemper. (Okay, so I was watching the red carpet earlier and she was in the rust-colored dress. Yes, I remember that. No, I’m not proud.)

7:50: HAH. Joke about movie theater sex. And into a tribute for movies. Wait wait. Princess Bride, Amelie, Ghost, Star Wars, and fucking TWILIGHT in the same damn reel? ARE YOU RETARDED? That is absolutely abhorrent. Ending with When Harry Met Sally was a nice touch though.

7:53: Cameron Diaz and J-Lo up now. J-Lo is looking BANGING. Wow. Cleavage central. Now up is Costume Design. And the nominees are: Anonymous, The Artist, Hugo, Jane Eyre, and W.E.. And the winner is: The Artist. That was a good choice. There were some slick-looking outfits from what I could see. Weird fact: the Oscar isn’t the bright gold like it usually is. Does anyone know why?

7:56: And moving right on into Makeup. And the nominees are: Albert Nobbs, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2, and The Iron Lady. And the winner is: The Iron Lady. Wow. I’m actually kind of surprised on that one. I would have thought Albert Nobbs would have nailed it. Ah well. I’ll give J-Lo my Albert Nobb any day. Yeah. I said it.

7:59: They must really be focusing on the experience of movies and movie-going this year. Interesting. It’s kind of cool to realize that actors and actresses have the same connection to movies that we normal people do too.

8:02: Commercial time again. That’s alright. They’re making more manageable chunks this year, it feels like.

8:04: One of those stinger teasers for the Oscars by ABC. Tricky bastards. Making us unmute it for no damn good reason.

8:05: Who do we have up now? Oh yeah, Sandra is back. I’m almost positive that this winner is going to be A Separation. But Sandra just NAILED German. Well done! The category up now: Foreign Language Film. And the nominees are: Bullhead, Footnote, In Darkness, Monsieur Lazhar, and A Separation. And the winner is: A Separation. Knew it. But it’s hard to think otherwise when that one actually was nominated for another Oscar as well. It’s kind of a gimmie, you know? I’m not really sure what he’s saying but good on him.

8:09: Bringing on Christian Bale with a joke about his blowup. Very nice. AND the Batman music. Fantastic! This one is going to Octavia Spencer. Almost positive. I would love to see it go to Berenice Bejo. Because she’s absolutely stunning. One of the prettiest actresses I’ve ever seen. The category is: Supporting Actress. And the nominees are: Bérénice Bejo, Jessica Chastain, Melissa McCarthy, Janet McTeer, and Octavia Spencer. And the winner is: Octavia Spencer. Knew it! Good on her though. Here comes the crying though.

8:14: Commercial time again! They really are going quickly tonight.

8:18: Focus groups stuff? Interesting…HAH. Eugene Levy. Love him. And Fred Willard. Hahaha. This is hysterical. I’m dying. It’s the whole group with Christopher Guest. Amazing.

8:22: Tiny Fey and Bradley Cooper. One of my mancrushes. Not ashamed. And now to Editing. And the nominees are: The Artist, The Descendants, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Hugo, and Moneyball. And the winner is: Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Wow. Definitely was not expecting that one. But this team has won two years in a row. Wow. That’s a really good editing team. Repeating is incredibly tough to do.

8:25: Moving quick tonight. Sheesh. And now up to Sound Editing. And the nominees are: Drive, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Hugo, Transformers: Dark of the Moon, and War Horse. And the winner is: Hugo. That’s the third for the movie tonight. It’s cleaning up for sure right now. And a really bad pun on ‘Hugo’ but it was kind of charming. The second guy covered everyone. Literally everyone.

8:27: And right along again! The category is Sound Mixing. And the nominees are: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Hugo, Moneyball ,Transformers: Dark of the Moon, and War Horse. And the winner is: Hugo again. That makes four. Marty’s touch wins all, apparently! This first guy is tall but he’s about to break down. The second, in contrast, is totally straightfaced. Hahaha.

8:29: Commercial time again. Good. Those were fast categories so I had to type and shift very quickly. Fingertips ablaze with the keeping up! BLAZING. I’m sorry this hasn’t been totally funny yet. It’s been pretty lowkey for a show, actually. I’m surprised.

8:34: Yay! Muppets! These are never not wonderful. Nobody hates the Muppets. And now we got Cirque du Soleil. With Danny Elfman. This will be crazy.

8:35: Yep. Just like I expected.

8:37: She just stood on his head. ON his HEAD.

8:38: That was crazy. And kind of awesome, not even going to lie. Well done. That shit has got to just tear your body up.

8:39: I didn’t know that Christopher Plummer was 82! Wow. He doesn’t look it.

8:40: Gwyneth and Robert! Love RDJ. What will he do this year? Well…Tebow for one. I love him. He’s hilarious. And the category is: Documentary Feature. And the nominees are: Hell and Back Again, If a Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front, Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory, Pina, and Undefeated. And the winner is: Undefeated. Wow. I can hear every sports fan in the country orgasm themselves simultaneously. Oh, and P.Diddy, who just likes spraying his piss over the white race. And that is why there’s a five-second delay!

8:44: Bringing on Chris Rock now. Gotta love that racial ‘humor’. Hilarious. Oh wait. No, it’s dogshit. And now trashing on animation. Class act. Now it’s Animated Feature. And the nominees are: A Cat in Paris, Chico & Rita, Kung Fu Panda 2, Puss in Boots, and Rango. And the winner is: Rango. Huh. That’s not quite what I was expecting. That was basically pushing the lengths of how long you can last being eligible for an Oscar. Ah well. Good on them.

8:48: Commercial again. They’re really milking the broadcast time, I think.

8:51: Hah. Melissa McCarthy.

8:52: Ben Stiller and Emma Stone up now. She is looking smoking in the red dress. She is a tall girl. But Ben is a small dude too. She’s adorable. Wow. Great banter though! The category is: Visual Effects. And the nominees are: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2, Hugo, Real Steel, Rise of the Planet of the Apes, and Transformers: Dark of the Moon. And the winner is: Hugo. I actually guessed that one. It looked really pretty every time I’ve seen anything about it.

8:57: Bringing on Melissa Leo to present Supporting Actor. She has a pretty badly scripted speech. And the nominees are: Kenneth Branagh, Jonah Hill, Nick Nolte, Christopher Plummer, and Max von Sydow. And the winner is: Christopher Plummer. Wow. He’s the oldest actor to ever win an Oscar. That’s crazy. 82 years old. Good on him. Classic old actor.

9:03: Commercial again. The music is actually pretty cool tonight. They’re doing well. It’s been tight and classy. I don’t even have a dirty joke there, although I really should.

9:06: What? Were you actually expecting me to come in a couple minutes later with a joke? I’m insulted that you think I would go for such easy, low-hanging fruit like that. I have more dignity than that.

9:08: Oh boy. What they’re thinking. This should be hilarious. He’s going all in at everyone. Amazing. Especially on the dog.

9:10: Just the thank you from the Academy. It was short and sweet though, so good for him. And then Billy takes it right back. Can we just make him permanent host now?

9:11: Penelope Cruz and Owen Wilson. What a strange pairing of people. Now we have Original Score. You can always tell the John Williams sound. And the nominees are: The Adventures of Tintin, The Artist, Hugo, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, and War Horse. And the winner is: The Artist. The music sounded good. And the dude didn’t even have formal training. Good on him. Seriously. I’m impressed by that. And his wife held it together until he mentioned her.

9:15: Will and Zach. Oh my Lord. This will be insane. Giant cymbals is a really good start, hahah. Now we have Original Song. And the nominees are: ‘Man or Muppet’ from The Muppets and ‘Real in Rio’ from Rio. And the winner is: ‘Man or Muppet’. I mean, how can you vote against the Muppets? You can’t. You can’t unless you’re a communist.

9:19: This is…strange. Handing out the little popcorn? I don’t get the point behind that. Weird. I’d rather take one of those usher girls in light blue, personally. And now commercial time again.

9:23: Hahah. Billy fumbled it but recovered nicely. Angelina Jolie is up and about and gorgeous as always. Look at that leg. My balls just blew up. Just like little cherry bombs. First up we have Adapted Screenplay. And the nominees are: The Descendants, Hugo, The Ides of March, Moneyball , and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. And the winner is: The Descendents. Interesting. At least it’s not freaking Aaron Sorkin though. He was a douchebag last year with his win so…good for these guys. They seem pretty cool. And one of them was in Beerfest! Holy crap! That makes it ten times better.

9:28: And now moving right into Original Screenplay. And the nominees are: The Artist, Bridesmaids, Margin Call, Midnight in Paris, and A Separation. And the winner is: Midnight in Paris. I figured that he would get it. But he’s not here tonight. Wow. Can’t even show up for a potential win? Kind of a jerk move, I think.

9:30: Ah Werner Herzog. What a crazy, crazy, brilliant man. And Don Rickles is still alive and kicking and looking pretty good for his age, actually! And now commercial time.

9:36: That was a longer break. And now Milla Jovovich who is looking absolutely gorgeous. Goodness. She’s almost hotter now than she was as Leeloo. Almost. She’s presenting for visual effects and technology stuff. That’s awesome.

9:38: Bringing out the group of the Bridesmaids. Ellie Kemper. Guh. Just pretty. And now we have to deal with some one-note actresses (Wiig, cough cough). And penis jokes. I’m grinning, not going to lie. Despite myself. First up, Live Action Short. And the nominees are: Pentecost, Raju , The Shore, Time Freak, and Tuba Atlantic. And the winner is: The Shore. I know nothing about any of these so I’ll say that they were the best? I guess? Northern Irish though. Pretty sweet. What a proud mama in the crowd.

9:41: On to Documentary Short. The Scorcese drink was funny though. And the nominees are: The Barber of Birmingham: Foot Soldier of the Civil Rights Movement, God Is the Bigger Elvis, Incident in New Baghdad, Saving Face, and The Tsunami and the Cherry Blossom. And the winner is: Saving Face. That makes sense. That one looked really rough, just from the five seconds they showed for the preview of it. “More important” that the Pakistani speak? That is kind of…eh. Good for the surgeons who are doing good though.

9:43: Finally in this one, Animated Short. And the nominees are: Sunday, The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore, La Luna, A Morning Stroll, and Wild Life. And the winner is: The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore. Of course they picked the one film that took the LONGEST to type. I’ll say it again: I’m a freaking genius for typing this stuff out ahead of time instead of having to scramble to make up for it. Nice hat though. Gotta love a jaunty hat.

9:46: Break before they move on to the heavy hitter awards. I’m in the unenviable position of having my feet like ice cubes and my crotch like the surface of the sun. Seriously, my sperm are probably dying.

9:50: Michael Douglas is up, complete with Occupy Wall Street joke (by Billy). Time to roll with Best Director. There are some really big names in this category. I mean, Woody, Marty…Malick who did that crap film Thin Red Line? Big names. And the nominees are: Woody Allen, Michel Hazanavicius, Terrence Malick, Alexander Payne, and Martin Scorsese. And the winner is: Michel Hazanavicius. That’s great for him, but that also means that The Artist probably won’t win the Best Picture. Probably. But I could also definitely be wrong here. There’s buzz around a ton. Thanking the dog is a great move though!

9:55: Meryl Streep is coming up. 16 times nominated. That’s absolutely incredible. What an absolute legend in the business. She’s up to talk about the Governor’s Awards. They were about Oprah, James Earl Jones, and Dick Smith. James is just a stud. One of the most iconic voices there is. What a classy group there.

9:58: Break time. We’re in the home stretch. Place your bets now for who gets the last position in the remembrance section. If it’s Whitney Houston even though she only had one film, I’m going to be upset. Does she deserve a slot? Sure. The last position? I don’t think so.

10:03: Time for In Memoriam. First up we have…Laura Ziskin and Gil Cates. Oscar producers. Wow. First other one up is Jane Russell. Whitney isn’t the last one, thank goodness. Who is though? Elizabeth Taylor. That’s fitting. Great song, great singer, great memorial. And they didn’t go away from the screen either.

10:08: Commercial. Such a weird silence after stuff like that. No matter who you are or who you’re with. It’s weird. Death makes awkwardness for us all.

10:10: You know, this really isn’t making me want to watch something with Ashley Judd more. I loved her in Bug but that was about it. Plus she’s a Kentucky fan which…that’s kind of depressing. You can’t support the Wildcats any more than you can support Duke.

10:12: Billy tried not to crack after the joke he made but he just couldn’t hold it. Hah. Bringing on Natalie Portman. Be still my uncomfortably warm testicles. Now we have Best Actor. The fact that Gary Oldman has only this as a nomination for Oscar is a travesty. He’s the freakin’ man. And the nominees are: Demián Bichir, George Clooney, Jean Dujardin, Gary Oldman, and Brad Pitt. And the winner is: Jean Dujardin. That was another gimmie but he was apparently brilliant in it. I really need to see the movie. And the Funny or Die sketch he was in is absolutely incredible.

10:21: Break time. We have one more of these. Know what’s even more impressive than all of this? I’ve only taken ONE pee break. Yes, Mr. Tiny-ass Bladder has only had to take a leak once and that’s because of the drink I had. Which I want another of because, seriously, my lap is like so hot, you can’t even realize.

10:23: Hilarious joke about the French. Bring on Colin Firth. Love this dude. He is like the absolute mold for British charm and wit. The category now is Best Actress. And the nominees are: Glenn Close, Viola Davis, Rooney Mara, Meryl Streep, and Michelle Williams. And the winner is: Meryl Streep. WOW. That is a massive upset. Almost everyone was saying Viola Davis. I was typing it out before it was announced. I’m kind of shocked. She deserves it I’m sure but wow. Good on her. Great speech and she thanked her husband first which is awesome.

10:32: Tom Cruise is up to announce. No fuss, no muss. Here we go with Best Picture. And the nominees are: The Artist, The Descendants, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, The Help, Hugo, Midnight in Paris, Moneyball, The Tree of Life, and War Horse. And the winner is: The Artist. Good for them. I really need to see that movie now. And they brought Uggie on-stage which is amazing. Gotta love the dogs. This is one little dude though. Very short. But apparently a great producer!

10:38: And that’s that! Quite a good show, actually. Much better than last year’s. I apologize for not having the amount of vulgarity and sex jokes as usual. I just didn’t have the chance! It was fast and well-run and moved at a very nice pace. Congrats to all the winners and we’ll catch you next article.

Oh fine. Balls. Okay, I want 3400 words. Um. Balls.

The Possible States Of Drunk

Posted: August 21, 2011 by kaostheory in Informative
Tags: , , , , ,

So you’re going to get drunk. Wonderful. We approve. Douse your internal fire with alcoholic liquors, liqueurs, beers, wines…Jello shots. Whatever gets your liver dick hard. It’s all good. However, being drunk comes along with its own risks. Aside from the bodily damage that comes part and parcel with drinking (we’re all dying slowly so what’s accelerating it anyways?), the chief concern is of which personality you will take on while in your pursuit of drunken whoring. Let me explain. While drunk, nobody retains their sober, everyday persona. It just doesn’t happen. All of your flaws become either magnified or disappear in favor of other, more glaring and oppressive flaws. Even beyond that, there are various stock personae that most people can and will fill in, sort of like a sloppy clay figure mold. These, my friends, are who you could become, were the situation to warrant it.

Giggly: This is most definitely a hit-or-miss proposition. On one hand, any aspiring comedians in the bunch that you happen to be drinking with (we’re going to assume for the purposes of this article that all of these states of mind will occur while with other people, as opposed to sad and drinking alone) will receive a wonderful ego boost from you when you laugh at his stupid fucking joke about why airlines need to provide larger bathrooms. On the other, you will get really annoying really quick when you start snickering when a sobbing friend starts detailing her father’s chemo treatments. If the words “cancer”, “AIDS”, “abortion”, “breakup”, “heart” or “Obama” come up, walk the fuck away before you do any serious damage.

Depressed: The other side of the Janus coin with Giggly. Depressed means that NOTHING is funny to you. At all. A fucking Ku Klux Klan member could accidentally ignite his hateful cowl and be running around the room, howling like a burning turd got stuck in his buttpipe, while other drunkards laugh and take out their various members to attempt to extinguish the flames with righteous urine and you would be sitting in the corner, sipping on your damn Bud Light, feeling nothing but darkness swarm around your head. You, good sir or madam, are a downer.

Suicidal: The logical extension of the depression lot, the suicidal means that the booze is making nothing seem like it’s worth living for. Not the warm feeling in your brain. Not the constant throbbing erection you get from drunk girlfriends making out to fulfill a tawdry bet. Nothing. You are even more of a downer. Just sleep it off and pray for actual death in the morning when your head feels like a Macy’s Parade float and your bed is soaked in pee.

Horny: This is not your normal “Oh hey, I kinda want to blow my load on someone’s face/tits/ass/various other body parts” level horny. This is nuclear-grade, white-hot “If I don’t put my penis in or on something female tonight, it will literally explode. I will become a Ken doll” horny. This is horny that leads to choices like taking home a ‘trail mix’ woman. You know, the ‘grab bag’. One with alligator teeth, rhino horn, hippo ass…um…snake vagina. Bad news, basically. So if you feel the stirring in the nethers while drunk, especially one that feels like a turbine starting to rev up, get the hell out of wherever you are, turn on some Naughty America at home and fire one off into a beach towel because toilet paper will offer you no protection from the…ahem…coming fireworks.

Rage: It’s difficult to qualify how one comes to this particular state because it is 100% predicated on external influences. You could already be mad about various events throughout the day so anything further is just going to set you off like a car bomb in the middle of Tehran. OR you could be in any one of these other moods but something could happen – a spilled beer, a blown tackle, the bartender fingering your girlfriend behind the salad bar – and you will explore into a beast aflame. Here’s where you start to test out the verbosity you somehow have acquired that directly relates to how many curse words and different variations you can link in a stream of invective. For example: “Why don’t you fucking eat a rotten dick, you shit-staining, ass-sucking, cock-pulling son of a cum-stained whore?” Or something along those lines. Rage allows you to reach maximum hate, verbally.

Violent: Annnnnnd Rage kicks it up a notch. Words no longer are able to be formed. Instead, you have reverted to the primal reptilian state where the only things you can say are grunts and punching. This is where tables are broken, windows shattered, asses kicked and noses bloodied. This is the state of drunk where you are impervious to pain, instead using whatever hurts as further fuel for the jet engine that is your anger coursing through your body. You are in full Hulk fugue and only a cheap shot or electricity can Bruce Banner you once more.

Arrested: As you go from Rage to Violent, you soon transition from Violent to Arrested, less a state of mind and more a state of being.

Chatty: Certainly the least undesirable of the options at hand. When you are in this state, Miss Alcohol has reached her sweet little hand into the very depths of your brain and personality and found the little button that controls your inhibitions and with a quick press of her finger, turns that button completely the fuck off. When you are Chatty, you find social situations that normally would play your anxieties like a well-tuned theremin are no longer so onerous. In fact, you may well find yourself engaging in activities that in a sober state would leave you embarrassed and haunted, such as beer pong, playing Shot for Shot, or perhaps even fucking a sorority girl up the butt as she is bent over her school-furnished dresser. On second thought, Chatty is pretty damn awesome.

Offensive: Unfortunately, Chatty has a dark side that is revealed after time. When the inhibitions are shut off, it does truly create a situation where although you may be able to be more gregarious, you also lose that well-honed ‘Should I Say This?’ that normally keeps you out of trouble. That means that, say, were you to happen upon an unfortunate individual whose struggles with a recurring venereal disease have been socially documented, where in a normal situation you would give them a friendly hello and a nod to let them know that you still value them as a member of society, here in Offensive Mode is where you will instead start applauding and yelling ‘Clap on! Clap off! It’s the Clapper!’, creating a very unpleasant social meme for the person for the duration of their college life. Well done, asshole.

Philosophical: We’ve all been there. Drunk and sitting on the Quad, watching the sun rise. Rambling incoherently about the nature of being. Believing that words of gold drip from our tongues as we contemplate just what it means to be human. Yes, friends. You are Philosophically Drunk and you will have no damn idea what the hell you were talking about as soon as you sober up.

Messy: You are just so damn mad at your fucking suitcase. Go away, suitcase! To hell with your being on the bed! Until the next morning when you realize all your shit was in that suitcase and now you have to clean it up hungover. Awesome.

Rogue: Unless you have experience dealing with someone that falls into this category (Pred3000, cough), you can’t really understand what it is about. On any drunk night at any given time, the Rogue can be any and all of the above. Angry one minute, sleeping the next. Offering to burn CDs one minute, screaming Guns ‘n’ Roses the next. Jabbering on about the social implications of music one minute, trying vainly to hit on a girl the next. The Rogue is just that: rogue. You cannot accurately predict the state of drunk this person will be in until they are already in it. It’s both very funny and dangerous.

Batshit Fucking Insane: The worst of the lot. All I can say for this one is that if you have experienced someone in the throes of it, you will understand. For the rest of you, God help you.

You may not always choose to get drunk and you may not always find sites with helpful advice for you, but when you do…make it Dan Eats Cat Food. Deuces.

Your Metal Baby

Posted: August 20, 2011 by kaostheory in Informative
Tags: , , , , , ,

Children are terrifying, let us come to that agreement right now. They’re little and fragile and as a parent, you would be in charge of forming their minds and bending them to your will, which sounds pretty awesome but also requires financial and time investments that…well…are just inconveniences, especially right now. Worse yet, their taste in music is pure boring pablum. Raffi. Barney. Um…Cher. Other one-name monstrosities that treat music not as an art form so much as a money-swollen cow, heavy with cash, that they can milk directly into their bank accounts. Boring, basic chord structures and lyrics that wouldn’t offend the most sensitive pussy liberal politician or over-paranoid Nancy Grace histrionic.

The point is that you need to, as a reasonable and presumably awesome future parent, take steps to create and recognize the innate potential of embryos to become hard-rocking babies. Thus, we’ll show you what to do to make and then understand Your Metal Baby.

First, let’s get going with conception. Barry White? Absolutely not. Sting? Hell no. Marvin Gaye? Your kid is…gay…e. No, if you want a truly metal baby to immediate start gestating, you have to do the do to a little Metallica, mixing in some Megadeth for a little ironic fuckin’. Get that sperm nice and jacked up.

Okay, so your badass spermatozoa managed to infiltrate her Castle Eggcell and now you have a kid growing in your lady’s body. Set aside the fact that SOMETHING IS GROWING INSIDE A HUMAN BEING HOLY FUCK WHAT IS THAT ABOUT for a moment and understand that you now have some obligations. First and foremost, the belly music thing. In some studies, babies growing in the womb are positively influenced by headphones playing classical music against the belly. Something about the music makes them smarter. Well you know what to do, right? Blast metal through the headphones instead. Instead of Bach, Skid Row. Instead of Mozart, Slayer. You get the picture. Make that baby well-versed in the entire catalog of the metal industry before he (we’re just going with the assumption that the child will be male, otherwise much of this article gets really weird…well, weirdER) even is outside his mother.

Now it’s time to birth this little parasite. Some parents want nice soothing music to accompany the birth. That way, the mother will be more relaxed and ready for her spawn to burst forth from her vagina like a little flesh-colored James Cameron-style Alien. The metal baby, however, must necessarily come out to Iron Maiden. We would suggest “Children of the Damned” or even “Be Quick or Be Dead” if you want the baby to have an ironic welcoming song.

Your first sign that your child is how you want him is very simple and easy to tell. He will be pulled out throwing the horns. Not just his little fingers curling involuntarily. We’re talking horns up, thumb folded under, and his wrist moving it forward and back. Real horns.

Oh yeah. And if your kid is SUPER-metal, he will be born with a goatee like a tiny, adorable Scott Ian from Anthrax.

Naturally, with the horns and the goatee as well as frequent headbanging, family members and nosy concerned strangers who should mind their own fucking business will be concerned that your metal baby has had some problems while in the womb. They may worry that he has cystic fibrosis or something like that. Never fear. All you do is tell them that your baby contracted a case of Fetal Alcohol Awesomeness and that you’re working through it as a family. Then headbutt them to the ground and roar in their face.

Of course, your metal baby still has to eat and solid food just isn’t possible, although he’ll assuredly still try to gum a steak if you put it in front of him. Normally, milk from the mother will be just fine for the little rocker, but sometimes she’s just not around or is showering or sleeping or crying softly in the corner about how her life is over now that she’s had a kid and is feeling unattractive. What to do? Easy. Bottle-feed him whiskey. The essential nutrients in a bottle of Jack Daniels’ will prepare your child for the real world and the alcohol will relax him and allow him to sleep through the night, giving you time to jack off in the backyard since the mom still probably won’t want to have sex or give you a blowie.

Your child will want attention and you may not be there to immediately see that he desires such. He will make noise but he won’t make the noise that you expect of him. If your kid is a metal baby, he doesn’t scream – he falsettos. You’ll have your own little Robert Plant to entertain you.

Eventually, your child will learn how to speak. Yes, yes, ‘mama’ and ‘dada’ will be there because those are the first syllables children figure out. Those barely count. No, if you played your cards right and did your job, your child’s first word will be ‘amp’. And even better, his first phrase will be ‘I am Iron Man’.

This comes more down to luck than anything, but he may be able to think outside the box and do math (when it reaches that point) in a Base 11 system because Base 10 is too low and he wants to go one more. Because Spinal Tap.

Finally, as your metal baby sleeps peacefully in his crib, curled up in a vintage Def Leppard t-shirt, hook up a stereo system with a lot of speakers and play ‘Rock You Like A Hurricane’ all night. The pure power of beautiful metal in that song will comfort him if he wakes and will give you a chance to get the mother of your child drunk and maybe horny enough for a quick 1-2-3 in the laundry room. That way, everyone is happy. Well, except the neighbors, especially if they live in an apartment but fuck them. They can have their tapas and Neutral Milk Hotel and organic faux-leather Birkenstocks to go with their vegan-friendly, West Coast stoner-slash-East Coast progressive baby daughter with large fake black glasses and dyed hair. Your metal baby is gonna be fuckin’ that hippie baby in about sixteen years. COUNT on it.

Basically, what we’re saying here is to make your child as awesome as possible as early as possible. That way, the awesome will drip off of him his entire life. Unless, of course, he rebels as a teenager and becomes really into 90s pop music but…come on. Since when do kids ever rebel?

How To Do Easter The Dan Eats Cat Food Way

Posted: April 24, 2011 by kaostheory in Informative
Tags: , , ,

Easter. The time of year where we as human beings suspend all belief in favor of accepting that sometimes giant, mutated rabbits are able to produce multi-colored, probably infected, and voluminous amounts of chicken eggs like some sort of unholy cross taking part because of the rape of a hen by a jackrabbit. Yeah. That’s right. What you see as cheery and delightful is actually a “trigger warning” waiting to happen.

Oh wait. Should I have put “trigger warning” at the beginning?

(Feeling like a smartass today, huh? – ed.)

Comes with the territory. The day I worry about any of my writing setting off freakouts with women or whoever that may have been traumatized in the past is the day that I stop making the background for this thing flash blue and red really fast so that epileptics can’t enjoy it.

(Been meaning to talk to you about that. We edit that out every time. We’ve been over this. – ed.)

And clearly it’s not sinking in, so NOW who’s the “unreliable asset”, huh? Anywho, while we’re here, we may as well offer up some advice for the kiddles and bits to take to heart on this most glorious of days. Let’s get this crackalackin’.
First off, you really should get dressed up and attend the Easter service at your church of choice. If you’re a Christian, today is one of the – if not THE – most important days in the entire faith, since it is the day that Jesus Christ was resurrected from the grave after dying for our sins. SO SHOW SOME DAMN RESPECT, Y’ALL. If you aren’t Christian, that’s cool too. Just…chill out and enjoy the stuff you’re getting. I guess.

Now we get to the other stuff. More specifically, dyeing and finding Easter eggs. Now some smart-asses would say to dye the eggs green or camo and hide them around the yard so that the little kids get frustrated by not being able to find them so they start crying and their holiday is ruined. That’s just being a dick and we don’t cotton to that around here. Make the eggs in all the colors of the rainbow. Even better, make them in every color ever. Picture it now. Puce eggs. Mauve eggs. EGGSHELL WHITE EGGS. Make the dyeing process swiftly turn into a grueling arts-and-crafts concentration camp. And then the stickers! Permutations galore! Why frustrate the children when you can make them dead inside? You’re thinking small, compadre.

Alternatively, if you don’t want to go to straight cruelty, make the Easter egg hunt ‘street rules’. Allow for any and every kind of tactic available to their little brains in order to win the hunt. Encourage fashioning weapons out of hats and sharp sticks. Help them form a rudimentary society with social status based on the amount of eggs and no penalty for theft, assault or mugging. See what happens when children – already stretching the bounds of human decency – lose any motivation or reason to be ‘good’.

Next up we have the crack cocaine of the under-13 crowd: chocolate. If you’re wise, you’ll create artificial scarcity. Make the situation seem as if there is not nearly enough chocolate to go around – say, one M&M per three kids. While adults and even some teenagers understand basic economics, especially the ‘I can actually just get in my car, drive and buy this stuff’ concept, little children do not. Little children are also flush with disposable income from generous grandparents, excitement from all the busyness going on around them and, if you’re lucky, hot sisters or cousins back for the holiday from college with tappable asses, low standards and negotiable alcohol tolerance. What I’m suggesting is that you force little kids to pimp out their family for chocolate.

Cadbury Cream Eggs. You don’t let those little fuckers anywhere NEAR these. These are EARNED by going through the fires of Smarties and jellybeans and those crappy gold coins that come in those nets. Lie and say these don’t exist. Trick the kids into giving them to you by faking puking at the taste of them. Change their gaze and swipe them. These are yours. Make sure they stay that way.

How about that shitty fake grass? What’s with that stuff? Don’t eat it though. It stays in your digestive tract for YEARS. It’s like chewing gum except worse. Like…fake tapeworms almost.

And Peeps? What about them? Personally, we’re okay with them. They’re just crappy marshmallow with an assload of sugar shaped like whimsical little chicks or bunnies or…sometimes fucking snowmen and yes, they do exist. But it’s understandable that some people don’t like them. At times, it is almost like trying to chew and swallow a small, sugary throw pillow. They do swell and burst in the microwave SO well though. Kind of like that fat dude on Monty Python that ate that after-dinner mint and blew up…except less gross.

Sundresses? Oh holy shit, yes.

And of course, the Easter Bunny must be there. Ah yes, the Easter Bunny. A creature on platypus-level curiousness. An animal with the physical appearance of a rabbit but the reproductive system of a chicken. Even the Spore(TM) Creature Creator would say “What the fuck?” about this thing. But every year, kids are delighted when he comes by, hiding the eggs and bringing them joy in…what is your DEAL, man?

I’m waiting for the damn koala line. What are you talking about?

Every time we do this, the koala comes back and commits wholesale murder, trying to get to me. I’m just waiting for you to spring it on me so I can run. Seriously, man. You are getting way too paranoid.

You’ll forgive me if I’m wary since, you know, MY FRIENDS WERE SLAUGHTERED AT HALLOWEEN because of you. I had nothing to do with that. Koala.



You might want to run.

FUCK YOU! Not even if you paid me, muchacho.
(Tell me the truth. You’re a sadist, aren’t you? – ed.)

What? No. This stuff doesn’t get me off. And you are way in the wrong to assume otherwise. The only things that get me off are tribbing, spanking, schoolgirls, cowgirl, girls cumming and maybe sometimes getting choked with a garden hose. That is ALL, dude.

(…the hell? – ed.)

Okay, fine! And MAYBE amputee MILF Thai women but that’s only on special occasions.

(I didn’t ask! – ed.)

But people must know! Deuces and Easters!