5 Tips For Being A Real American!

There sure are a lot of wimps out in the world today. I look around and wonder... what happened to my 'Murica?! Rest assured, I've got it all figured out. Immigrants aren't the problem. The media isn't the problem. Hell, politicians aren't even the problem. So what is the problem?

We've gotten too damn soft.

As such, here's a quick tutorial on how to be a real American!

Tip #1: Always wear a tank top. This applies to chicks just as much as dudes. Show your guns as much as virtually possible. Big guns. Little guns. Guns with crappy tribal tattoos. Guns with droopy armpit fat. SHOW 'EM! Bonus GI Joe points for accompanying side-boob or wicked scars. Bonus Bonus points for actually carrying a gun with your guns.

Tip #2: Use exclamation points at the end of every sentence! Doesn't matter what you're talking about! Grandma's dying of tuberculosis! You lost your foot in a freak lawnmower accident! You scored an 80 on your math final and passed the class with relative ease! It burns when I pee! You're an American, so everything you say is obviously important! Ex!clam!!!!atio!!ns!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tip #3: Break the rules. See what I just did there? I broke my own rule from the previous tip. Rules are for sheep willing to do whatever they're told. Don't be a sheep. Wait, screw that... be a sheep. Breaking the rules is cool.

Tip #4: Everything is better with hot sauce. Quit letting your tongue be a limp coward. Put hot sauce on your eggs, tacos and fish. Douse it over your mashed potatoes and broccoli. Hell, you're not even livin' if you haven't placed a fat ol' drop of hot sauce in your favorite cocktail. Burn that mother up! See that baby up there drinking the hot sauce straight? Yeah, 100% commander-in-chief material. I'm gonna write in 'Bad Ass Toddler' for President.

Tip #5: Condoms are for foreigners. You've got the blood of Uncle Sam pulsating through every pore in your body. As such, you need to spread your freedom-lovin' genetics as much as virtually possible. Making babies is quintessentially American. You get a fetus! You get a fetus! You get a fetus! Point, aim and fire your flag-flyin' baby maker at every womb or flesh salami that'll allow you to. Sure, you might catch the HIV (rhymes with give) or some other disgusting case of crotch rot, but that's the price you pay to live in the greatest god damn country on Earth. Your genitals might fall off, but your patriotism will live on forever!

The Recklessness Of Calling The President A 'Nigga'.

At President Obama's final White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner this past Saturday night, jokes were told and punchlines were... well, punched. And yet, I can't help but feel a little disappointed after watching the event. Larry Wilmore, a rather talented comedian and news pundit, hosted the event. I typically enjoy Wilmore's comedy, but his closing remarks left me scratching my head. To quote:

“I’m going to keep it 100. Yo Barry, you did it my nigga.”

Now, I'm not going to lob accusations of racism at Wilmore. I fully realize that he did not intend anything atrocious by calling the President a 'nigga'. In fact, Wilmore most certainly intended the use of the word as a friendly gesture. And yet, the callous implementation of such a derogatory label represents the very problem I have with someone identifying the President a 'nigga'. Or, for that matter, anyone else. Our President, love him or hate him, holds a distinct honor of lofty esteem. The office of the President deserves respect, even in moments of anger or disagreement. It's not the person filling the shoes of Commander-in-Chief, but the position itself that should be venerated.

Wilmore's use of 'nigga' represents a continuing social dilemma that I've written about previously (read here, here and here). For hundreds of years in this country, minorities of African descent were chained, enslaved, beaten, attacked, raped and all-around denigrated, only to be called 'niggers' as a stamp of sub-human garbage. As recently as the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960's, our fellow citizens bled (and in many cases died) to live as equal men and women, free from the label of 'nigger'. Over the course of recent history, 'nigger' has morphed into 'nigga', essentially as a product of slang and street culture. Though they may be spelled slightly differently, they are one in the same. 'Nigga' is spelled phonetically to represent common vernacular.

And here we are, 2016... our President (a man of mixed heritage, nonetheless) being called a 'nigga'.

Such reckless abandon for our own shared history, no matter your ethnic heritage or place of origin, is grossly negligent. Despite the friendly motivations by calling another man a 'nigga', are we so blind as to not understand what the word means? Do we not understand the immense struggle behind such a connotation of disparagement? I don't believe in censorship of any kind, but I do believe that we must be responsible for the words that we speak.

No man is a 'nigga'. Not your friend. Not your family member. And most certainly, not the President.

How To Take A Fake Butt Picture.

Thanks to hearing from an old friend this evening, I thought I'd share something comical, goofy and down right immature.

Here are a few instructional videos as to how you can take a fake butt picture.

Funny Cereal Box Memes.

I went grocery shopping this afternoon. While perusing the breakfast food aisle, I was taken aback by how many hilarious and odd cereal boxes I saw. Some were marketed in a strange way. Others seemed to be food you wouldn't actually want to eat. Either way, these cereal boxes made for great comedy material. After snapping a few photos, I brought them home and created the following memes. Feel free to use or distribute them as you wish. Enjoy!

Draw Something: An Actual Piece Of Crap

I published a crappy story last night. Though, in a twist of pure satire, I featured a crappie fish. Needless to say, the members of the fecal community were not pleased. They sent me numerous emails, claiming I had slighted their position as actual crap.

Here is what I imagine those pieces of crap sending me emails look like.

The Crappiest Story Ever Told.

Mr. Crap walked into a crappy bar on the crappiest side of town. He ordered a crappy martini from the crappy bartender, whom also was named Mr. Crap. Mr. Crap brought Mr. Crap the crappy martini, whom promptly spit it out and yelled "This is crap!" He was right, that martini was crappy. Mr. Crap told Mr. Crap to bring him a crappy beer. Mr. Crap grabbed a crappy glass and filled it with the bubbly, yellow crap. Mr. Crap liked the crappy beer only slightly more because it was still a little crappy.

As Mr. Crap stumbled out of the crappy bar, he tripped over a crappy pile of cat crap in the crappy street. As his crappy mustache landed in the cat crap, he remarked on how crappy his night was going. "My night is crappy," Mr. Crap exclaimed.

Walking towards the bus stop, Mr. Crap took notice of how the moon looked like a large, white pile of dog crap. Ah, the moonlight sure was crappy. Thankfully, the crappy bus arrived on time. Obviously, the bus looked like a giant piece of crap. Mr. Crap sat on the crappy bus and road it all the way to his crappy apartment.

Fumbling for the keys inside his crappy pants, Mr. Crap realized that there was a crappy hole in his pocket. His crappy keys must have fallen out somewhere. Trodding into the crappy street, he looked up at the crappy sky and shouted crappily "Why is this world so crappy?!"

All the other crappy residents of Mr. Crap's crappy apartment building yelled down below. "Shut your crappy mouth Mr. Crap," they all screamed with crap in their throat.

Unfortunately, Mr. Crap wasn't paying attention to the crappy world around him. As he began to have a crappy mental breakdown, Mr. Crap failed to notice the enormous, crappy tractor trailer carrying a load of fresh crap rushing towards him. As Mr. Crap's crappy life flashed before his crappy eyes, he couldn't think but of one crappy thing to say.

"Oh crap."

THE CRAPPY END.

It's Time To Kill The Laugh Track.

You're watching a comedy program on television. The characters are conversing back and forth, trading one witty comment after another. With every joke and one-liner spoken, suddenly an invisible audience begins to laugh, whistle and holler.

Where the hell did that 'canned' laughter come from?

What you just heard is called a laugh track, and it has been around since 1950.

Created by sound engineer Charles Douglass, the laugh track is a marvel of television production. In use for nearly seventy years, the laugh track has touched nearly every aspect of comedic programming in the United States. From Hogan's Heroes to I Love Lucy, to Taxi and Cheers... a plethora of television shows have all used laugh tracks. In fact, many modern programs like The Big Bang Theory employ the laugh track to dramatically punch up their studio audience reactions.

I'm here to tell you... it's time to kill the laugh track.

I can understand the laugh track's use in the early days of television. Programs were filmed live before a studio audience. If there were multiple takes of a scene during filming, there would be continuity gaps between the takes. Obviously, as a scene was filmed two, three, four times or more, the audience would stop laughing at the same jokes being repeated. To make the takes blend together in a seamless scene, the laugh track of prerecorded laughter would be inserted to bridge the inconsistencies. As television progressed through the 1960's and early 1970's, many programs came to rely upon the laugh track heavily, often for pure comedic effect in their own right -- The Munsters, Scooby-Doo and Gilligan's Island were notorious for this. Other times, the laugh track would facilitate the total illusion that a program was filmed before an audience, when in fact it was recorded on a small, closed sound stage with no audience at all.

As television evolved to present more relevant social and political themes in the 1970's, many producers thankfully tried to avoid the use of the laugh track in their comedies. Instead of speaking down to their viewers, they wanted the home audience to think and laugh on their own accord. The laugh track had been used to tell viewers "when to laugh" for so long... much to the detriment of viewers' critical thinking ability. Garry Marshall's The Odd Couple used a laugh track during the first season due to network pressure, much to the chagrin of stars Jack Klugman and Tony Randall. They demanded that the program revert to being recorded before a live studio audience. By the second season, Klugman and Randall had won out; the laugh track was removed and all laughter heard was genuine. Producer Norman Leer employed the same approach to All In The Family, which was also recorded before a live audience during all but its last few seasons.

The laugh track is offensive and obtrusive in multiple ways. Chiefly, it inserts a pause in the natural flow of character dialogue to prompt the audience to laugh and applause at a joke. This does not take into account whether the joke was decent or funny. Instead of letting a scene progress at a normal pace, actors must create gaps between their lines to provide space for post-production laughter to be inserted. In reality, who talks like that?! Another irritating aspect of laugh tracks is that they introduce a totally foreign element to the program. The laughter isn't from characters in the program itself, nor is it a sound effect caused by an item or action in a scene. Instead, the laugh track is glazed over the program like fungus growing on a rock. It's unnatural and often times distracting from the program's content. I've lost count the number of times I've yelled at a television program because a laugh track attempted to convince me that a joke was funny, when it was truthfully dull or uninspired. It took my attention away from the actors and their scene. That's simply not funny.

We should expect more from ourselves and the content that we consume. Watching comedies on television that don't cue us when to laugh is a profound first step in that direction. Consider this scene below, for example. Admittedly, I have watched The Big Bang Theory for many years. Yet, as the show has aged, the jokes have become more rudimentary and predictable. The characters haven't experienced any real personal growth, much to my displeasure. The situations that the characters find themselves in are a little more stale and tiresome. If not for the characters being quirky themselves, short of any potential comedic situation, I'd probably not watch the program any more. As they continue to employ a laugh track to highlight a joke, my disillusionment with the show broadens. Watch this scene and understand what the show would be like if the laugh track wasn't used.

It becomes blatantly clear that The Big Bang Theory is crafted a fair amount of the time around the laugh track, and not vice versa. Without the laugh track, the show would present as hollow and boring. If anything, the laugh track adds a sense of life and not comedy. Here's another show that I watch essentially for the characters and not the jokes, which are quite terrible at times -- 2 Broke Girls. The video's editor has removed the laugh track. Perhaps more so than The Big Bang Theory, this show relies almost exclusively on a laugh track to deliver its comedy. The laugh track makes you feel like it's funny, when it almost certainly isn't.

Here's an edited version of Friends with the laugh track removed. I have never liked Friends, but the absence of the laugh track really drives home how terrible this show actually is.

So what does this all mean? The laugh track has to go. It's ravaging programs with plenty of potential, thanks to their interesting characters, and dropping them into a vapid echo chamber without any sort of comedic integrity. Writers shouldn't rely on the crutch of a laugh track to support their creations. As viewers, we're smarter than this. Shouldn't the programs that we watch be crafted with that same sense of wit and intelligence? Let comedy stand on its own two feet. Otherwise, programs developed to serve a laugh track are nothing more than terrible prop comedy.

Fun Ways To Celebrate The First Day Of Fall!

Today marks the first day of Fall. This is the best time of year in my opinion. The days are breezy and pleasant. The nights can be a little chilly, but still comfortable. You get to wear hoodies and long sleeve shirts. The leaves crinkle and float to the ground, making the landscape appear dramatically more interesting. Fire pits eagerly await our campfire tales and roasted marshmallows. Delicious pumpkin ale is ready for our ingestion. In the distance, you can hear the ghosts and goblins coming our way, anxious for Halloween to arrive.

Thank goodness for Autumn, the most wonderful time of the year.

I thought I'd share with you some exhilarating ways to celebrate the arrival of the Fall season.

Take a bath in a tub full of leaves. What better way to experience the season than to feel the dirty leaves from your yard on your naked flesh? Make sure to leave the squirrel feces and acorns in with the leaves as an added bonus! When you're done, just get a plunger and shove those leaves down your drain pipe -- your plumbing will thank you!

Pretend you're a leaf and fall down a flight of stairs. As you gracefully tumble to the bottom, use this valuable opportunity to reevaluate the meaning of life. Why are we here? What is the point? More importantly -- can I survive with a fractured neck and six broken ribs? Score cool guy points for breaking all four of your limbs!

Convince your friends that seasonal beers are sexy! Be sure to drink a few brews on your lunch break. Take your shirt off in the break room and down a fresh pumpkin spice lager. Make sure to draw attention to your large beer belly. For added flair, have a contest to see how many beer caps you can shove in your belly button. That's a sign of strength and superiority! Your coworkers will definitely be talking about you tomorrow morning at the water-cooler. Josie in Accounting will probably ask for your number, too!

Free flaming marshmallows for everybody! Nothing says "Howdy Neighbor!" like a flaming 'mallow on their front porch. Make sure you pull back far enough before flinging your stick forward and launching the fireball of tasty goodness. Be sure to let the marshmallow get nice and crispy to produce a gorgeous burst of flavor-rich fun! Aim for their windows to create a wonderful splatter effect they won't soon forget. You can thank me for this kick-ass idea later.

Start wearing your Halloween costume RIGHT NOW! Don't wait for the last day of October to start enjoying your well thought out costume. You spent a lot of time and energy in developing your outfit. Why waste it on one measly evening of trick-or-treating and drunken debauchery? Wear that costume everyday and all day! Sure, your friends might think you're going insane at first, but after the first week, they'll be sure to come around. For extra awesomeness, refrain from taking the costume off around your family. Your spouse will surely enjoy the break from seeing your face!

Let's Talk About Passing Gas.

In my article from yesterday, I discussed how protein shakes have been integrated into my meal plan. With that comes some readjustment in my digestive tract, along with a slight bit of stomach discomfort. Though, my article today isn't about that. It's more so a side story.

Today... let's talk about flatulence.

When I purchased my new Jeep in February of this year, I made a commitment to myself -- no passing gas in the new vehicle.

Go ahead... laugh. Get it out.

Feel better? Okay. :-D

So far, I've kept to my promise. Not once have I let one rip inside my Jeep. This isn't just for the comfort of any passengers, but also to prevent any leftover odors from lingering in my driver seat.

You're laughing again. That's to be expected. I'll continue.

My digestive tract has been particularly bound up the past few days, with little action on the backside, if you catch my drift. All of that changed today. While out shopping, I noticed some activity stirring in my undercarriage. Lo and behold... I developed a hurricane strength level of flatulence while walking around. It took everything I had to bottle it! Upon getting outside, I finally released some pressure. A moment later, I thought I was done.

Oh no, things were just getting warmed up.

As if a massive turbine suddenly sparked to life, I couldn't stop breaking wind. When I made it to my car, I thought I was finished. As I was about to sit down in my driver seat, I felt another wave of gas hit me. I jumped from my cabin with a flash and did my business outside. Taking my seat again, I was about to start my car. NOPE! More gas! I hopped out again and kept my promise.

NO FARTING IN MY JEEP!

You may be asking yourself...

"Jared, why in the hell are you talking about passing gas?"

I'll tell you why. It's because we all do it. You. Me. The dog. Your mother. Your wife. Men. Women. Kids. Birds. Alligators. Dinosaurs.

We all fart. I'm not ashamed to admit it and neither should you. That being said, I believe we should all try a little bit harder to not pass gas in our vehicles.

What's the point of this article? Honestly, I have no idea. Maybe I'm trying to improve the resale value of automobiles. Maybe I think farting is funny. Either way, I hope I made you smile just a little bit.

*toot*

Time To Laugh.

It's been a hell of a week. Honestly, I'm tired, I want to eat a bowl of popcorn and just watch a flick. I can't find the shoes I want, my printer is facing its imminent demise, I nearly died this week and my mood swings have been wider than the waistlines at a Golden Corral buffet after church lets out. This week has flat-out sucked.

That being said, I'm sharing a few videos that make me laugh. Goodbye July, Hello August!

Just Some Memes to Laugh At.

With today's blog, I'm not going to hit you with anything deep. I just want to spread a little laughter and cheer. Here are some funny memes for your enjoyment.

What to Do If You Encounter a Redneck.

Have you ever taken a walk through your local department store, only to be surprisingly confronted by a hairy creature with odd skin markings? Were they being followed by other foul-looking beings, each with a unique smell? Perhaps one of these creatures threw a packet of rolled tobacco cylinders or a metal canister of fermented hops at you. If any of this sounds familiar, don't be alarmed...

You have just had an encounter with a wild redneck!

So what's the best course of action if you encounter a redneck in the wild (essentially at Wal-Mart or Golden Corral)? Here are some tips to keep you safe.

• Never show a wild redneck your own tattoos. They may take this as a challenge to their authority. Rednecks believe tattoos hold mystical powers. This proves especially true if their tattoo is of a dream-catcher or the number 3. If they happen to have a tattoo on their neck, that means they can be easily fooled. This is an indication of poorly developed judgment ability in their brain's frontal lobe. Toss a piece of Nicorette at them to escape; they're highly gullible and easy to control.
• Be sure to walk away very slowly, making no sudden movements. A redneck may take your quick motions as cause for alarm. One wrong step and you could be face deep in their moldy Wrangler jeans.
• If you are unable to escape, make a peace offering. Some will walk away if you give them a dollar. Others will avoid conflict if you provide directions to the nearest Monster Jam event.
• Under no circumstance should you EVER make eye contact with their mate. What may appear to be a family member is probably their mating partner. Often times, they are both. In either case, you don't want any of that. Seriously... you can do better.
• When in doubt, give a redneck beer to calm them down. Under normal circumstances, you should be concerned that alcohol would increase a person's anger and level of agitation. Not so with a redneck -- they're already drunk at the start of the confrontation.
• Use a redneck's camouflage to your advantage. Even though they believe their camo makes them invisible, it really doesn't. This is a tactical mistake that, given the right opportunity and patience, makes you an unstoppable force.
• If your encounter is during daylight hours, never ask a redneck why they're not at work. Most importantly, never accuse them of being unemployed. This is highly prejudice of you, considering most rednecks receive a living wage every first and third of the month. As they like to put it -- Uncle Sam owes them anyway for all them foreigners!
• Avoid encountering a wild redneck at night if at all possible. Often times, the later in the evening it is, the more likely a redneck mother has her screaming offspring with her. Treat this situation like you would a female bear and her cubs. Never get between a redneck mother and one of her demon spawn. Even though the mother will rarely discipline her children, she may strike if you attempt to do so.
• Last, but not least... never tell a redneck what type of vehicle you own. There are certain roving groups of rednecks that worship various auto manufacturers, Ford and Chevrolet being the most common. A member of the Ford tribe will assault a member of the Chevrolet tribe on sight, and vice versa. If you coincidentally own a Ford or a Chevrolet, keep quiet! Even if you happen to share the same automobile as the redneck you have encountered, you may be kidnapped and forced to drive your vehicle through large mud puddles for sport. Oh, the horror!

I hope you'll remember these tips the next time a redneck approaches you in the wild. They may just save your life.

Cookie Cutter Country Girls

We've all seen them.

You can't escape them.

They're waiting for us.

At every pool party... on every lake... at every crappy country music concert...

COOKIE CUTTER COUNTRY GIRLS! 

The faces have been blurred to protect the innocent... or the ugly. Your choice, honestly.

Girls like this are a dime a dozen, are they not? We see them everywhere -- self-absorbed white country girls. They tend to congregate together like moths to a light bulb. Somehow, they always wind up on camera in massive group shots. These broads believe they're special, but they're all the same in reality. Their hair color or boyfriend may change, but inside they're indistinguishable -- prissy, gullible, conceited vamps.

Take a look at your Facebook or Instagram feed. Odds are you know someone whom believes they're a country girl. Not just believes it, but runs with the label and embraces the lifestyle. These Cookie Cutter Country Girls love...

• Guys with big trucks
• Bud Light
• Camouflage Tervis Cups
• UGG Boots
• Really short shorts
• Confederate Flag Bikinis
• Pink Browning Decals on their Honda Accord
• Claiming to be a cowgirl
• Being treated like a princess
• Shitty pictures on Pinterest
• Obviously targeted asinine rom-coms and country-themed movies
• Getting pregnant at an early age
• Faux-distressed Mossy Oak hats
• Naming their kid Colt or Dylan
• Linking everyday activities to "gettin' muddy"
• Claiming to drink hard whisky (when it's usually just Fireball)
• Taking photos of themselves holding a firearm
• Putting on makeup to go "hunting"
• Having their pictures taken "professionally" by their best friend whom claims to be a photographer on the internet

I could go on and on, but why bother? We all know the type. In reality, these gals wouldn't last five minutes in a survival scenario. The only thing "country" about these girls are their lack of economic and social advancement.

You're annoying.

You're unoriginal.

You're just plain loathsome.

Ladies - I'm talking directly to you. Please... just be your self. Stop trying to cram your whole world into the country girl aesthetic. The only people that come out ahead are the corporate raiders and plutocrats whom sell you all this lifestyle crap you don't really need. In the end, you're just oppressed, repressed and underdressed. Don't fall into the trap of being a cookie-cutter woman. We've got enough of these dingbats as it is.

I dare you to tell me I'm wrong. If you do, be prepared to site your sources.

Advice For Trashy People.

Tonight, I want to bring a bit of laughter into your home. Your weekend is finally here. It's time to enjoy a few beers, take your shoes off and relax. This is intended as a work of comedy... but in all reality, I'm being very serious.

This afternoon, I took a trip to a local Wal-Mart to pick up some supplies. Obviously, the miscreants and degenerates I encountered served as a point of inspiration. Upon these blessed little tidings of trashiness, I found my muse.

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for. I present to you a new segment I like to call...

ADVICE FOR TRASHY PEOPLE!

• Tuck Your Gut In. As surprising as it may be, no one wants to see the fat jiggling out the bottom of your shirt. Either wear a shirt that hangs lower or stop wearing belly shirts. This has nothing to do with you being fat (I'm fat). More so, this has to do with you looking halfway intelligent. The rippling blubber pouring forth from your tiny top is not attractive. It just makes you look like a depraved ass.
• The Fire Lane Is Not Your Personal Parking Spot. Instead of idling your odorous, filthy 1996 Toyota Previa (with mismatched doors) in the fire lane at the front of a department store, try parking it in one of those lined-off empty spaces in the parking lot. I'm certain that it's important for your girlfriend to quickly retrieve milk formula for one of her five screaming demon spawn, but I'm sure she could walk from the parking lot in a reasonable amount of time. Based upon the size of her back-boobs, the walking would probably do her some good anyway. There's a reason it's called a fire lane... BECAUSE IT'S FOR FRICKIN' FIRE TRUCKS!
• You Can't Mask Funk With Perfume. This shouldn't need any explanation, but it unfortunately does. Washing your body with soap and water can work miracles. Then, once you've dried yourself off, apply deodorant under your arm pits (more than one application in a day is perfectly acceptable). Merely pouring perfume or body spray all over yourself does not hide the funk radiating from your near-rotten carcass; it merely accentuates the filth and makes it carry farther down wind. If I'm standing behind you in a checkout line and make a strange face, then it's probably because you smell like a camel's taint.
• Your Children Are Not Cute. That's right... we all hate your kids. They're good-for-nothing brats that are driving all the other customers in the store absolutely insane. Instead of ignoring the venomous rascals, try this little tactic called parenting. Get them in order, stop letting them scream and make noise and encourage them to CHILL THE HELL OUT!
• Your Stories Suck. I came to the store to purchase things I need. I did not come to hear you relate a story about skinning a deer. I don't care what knife you used to skin the deer. I don't care about the size of the deer. I don't care about how big the antlers were. I certainly don't care that it tasted real good. What do I care about? The footage of you circulating the internet. You know... the video where you drop your shotgun and accidentally blow your manhood off, all the while trying to look cool on your webcam. Yeah... that story I care about. YOU - OUTTA THE GENE POOL!
• Don't Wear Pajama Pants In Public. This one is easy. When trying to make a monumental decision like which pants to put on and wear in public, here's an easy guideline to work from. Are your pants pajamas and intended for comfort or slumber? THEN DON'T WEAR THEM IN PUBLIC YOU INSOLENT DONKEY!
• Wash Your Hands. If I happen to visit the lavatory while in a department store, I wash my hands after using the facilities. Trust me... I notice when you walk into a washroom, touch your private bits and don't wash your hands. This is especially true if you make a bowel movement, then vanish without so much as flushing the toilet or getting your hands the slightest bit wet. Not only are you helping to spread disease (like Ebola), but you're not giving any due regard to the other people you might encounter. No one wants to touch your shit fingers!
• Put Your Vaporizer Away. We get it... you're an 'oppressed smoker' whom has lost the right to inhale your cancer in public. But then, little baby Jesus himself delivered the miraculous answer you've been waiting for -- the vaporizer! Now you can suck on that metal cylinder anywhere you want and breathe in the sweet margarita-flavored vapor you've always dreamed of. No worries, right? WRONG! Your harmless vapor smells like mule piss! Just because it's not technically smoke doesn't mean you can walk around in a cloud of nicotine bliss, all the while forcing your fellow man to encounter and smell it. Part of the problem with smoking to begin with was the stinky cloud of smoke wafting into a room and making it smell terrible. The vapor is no different, only this go round it's worse because now you can claim you're not spreading cancerous second-hand smoke. Hurrah -- I don't (potentially) have to die to smell your fumes of death. I get to live forever and ever enjoying your pungent aroma of feculence. OH JOY!

Things Trashy People Shouldn't Discuss in Public.

Hello friends! I'm back with another slam-bang article about a constant source of laughter in my life. That's right... trashy people.

A sighting of the not-so-elusive Homo trashicus at a local department store.

While doing some holiday shopping earlier today, I was unfortunate enough to be trapped behind some rather unsightly characters. Imagine this scene...

Three rather dingy bumpkins in t-shirts, sandals and ripped up jeans (must have forgotten it's December). They all had a terrible smoker's cough and their voices were raspy. The female (I think) among them had a highly suspect dye job; her hair seemed to be hiding an Irish Wolfhound of some sort. On her arm was a giant tiger-stripe purse. The two fellows had some interesting head gear. One sported a faded bandanna with motorcycles. The other had a giant cowboy hat that was too big for his head. I could detect a hint of Skoal and cheap cigarettes in the air.

I found myself asking... who let these ruffians into JCPenney?

While waiting for their cashier to scan their items, they had a long conversation about various unsavory topics. I'll include their topics below, along with some other humorous things I've heard spoken publicly as of late. I present to you...

Things Trashy People Shouldn't Discuss in Public!

• Don't discuss debt collectors ringing your phone at all hours of the day and night. No one cares that you owe Verizon over $300, which you've failed to pay for many months. If you can't come up with a meager $300 in ninety days, then you've failed at life.
• Don't discuss your daughter's trouble with her 'baby daddy'. We all know she's an ignorant, attention-starved tramp. Save the legal talk for your trailer park... or for The People's Court, which you surely watch every day.
• Don't discuss personal lubricants. No... I'm not joking.
• Don't discuss which guy you're going to hook up with this weekend. We like to be surprised... just like you during your next pregnancy test.
• Don't discuss how many times your wife has miscarried. It's just sad and depressing that you keep impregnating her with your demon spawn.
• Don't discuss the merits of your muddin' truck. Such a vehicle has none.
• Don't discuss how many times your brother was arrested for driving while intoxicated. Your brother has nothing to be proud of.
• Don't discuss the giant abscess in your back. We can already smell it. We certainly don't want to imagine what it looks like.
• Don't discuss your fascination with My Little Pony if you're a grown man. It just solidifies what we're already thinking -- you're a creep.

And finally, here's a big one.

• Don't discuss how you're waiting for your monthly public assistance check to buy smokes. I know a much cheaper method to kill yourself that doesn't eat up my tax dollars... and it's a whole lot faster too! *cough*traintracks*cough*

Happy Holidays everyone!

The Best Hecklers in the World.

I want to take a moment to celebrate the wittiest hecklers this world has ever known.

That's right... Statler and Waldorf.

March 19, 2015 will mark forty years of the dastardly duo heckling, criticizing and picking apart any and all subjects... from terrible Muppets skits, to movies, to song and dance numbers. The pair always have something insidiously funny to say... and I wouldn't have them any other way. As you can probably guess, when it comes to the Muppets, they're at the top of my favorites list.

Statler and Waldorf first made their appearance via the second Muppets pilot program produced for ABC, entitled The Muppets: Sex and Violence. Sam Eagle and the Swedish Chef also made their first appearances on this episode. Statler and Waldorf are seen sitting in their stately den and tell some fairly mundane jokes. Here's a video of their first appearance.

As you can see, their characters weren't fully fleshed out at the onset. As the Muppet Show went into full production in 1976, the duo came to more resemble their infamous cantankerous reputation. It's at this point that the duo took their seats in the skybox and started to hurl jokes! Here's one of my favorite bits starring Statler and Waldorf (as we know and love them). Poor old Fozzie Bear!

As many of you know, Statler and Waldorf got their names from two of the most famous hotels in all of New York City -- the Statler Hilton (located right across the street from Madison Square Garden and now known as the Hotel Pennsylvania) and the Waldorf-Astoria (famous for the Waldorf Salad; recently sold in October 2014 for nearly two billion dollars).

If I've learned anything from Statler and Waldorf in life, it's this...

Trolling is always more fun with a buddy.

*Statler and Waldorf, The Muppets and all related characters are owned by Disney. I make no claim to their ownership. This article is written for illustrative and celebratory purposes only. All rights are reserved by their respective owners.

Merry Chistmas!

Be sure to click on this image to see it full size!

I personally snapped this photo on December 4, 2014 at Treasures on the Lane Antique Mall in Burlington, North Carolina. I couldn't believe it at first when I saw it. Were my eyes playing tricks on me?

After doing a double-take, I looked again.

Yep... this particular booth operator at the antique mall somehow managed to misspell Christmas and December on the same sign. How in the holy fires of Hades do you mess up the two most recognizable words on the sign?
Christmas is ingrained into our brains. It's everywhere around us! Much less, December is very easy to spell. DE-CEM-BER. See, you spell it like it sounds even. I could understand someone writing the month of February incorrectly; I see it misspelled all the time. But December? No... you're just an idiot.

Had this retailer only fudged one of the words, I might have cut them some slack. We all make mistakes. But two words? They clearly don't know how to spell (or probably tie their own shoe laces). There's an even bigger, more serious problem present if you're paying attention, though.

See the word 'Further' on the sign? If you look closely, you can see that there's an outline of tape around it. It's as if the sign's creator realized they made a mistake, then put a new piece of paper over it and wrote further correctly.

HOW DULL MUST YOU BE TO CORRECT 'FURTHER', BUT NOT SEE YOU'VE MISSPELLED CHRISTMAS AND DECEMBER?!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Here's something else that drives me nuts. Take notice of the items they're selling. Look right in the middle of the photo. Mhmmm... your eyes are not deceiving you.

This retailer is selling highly racist Black Sambo Memorabilia... at Christmas nevertheless. Little baby Jesus would be appalled.

Who would have guessed it... a racist can't spell Christmas or December. Shocking, right? (end sarcasm)

White People Problems.

I want to preface my article this evening with a warning -- it is a work of comedy. I will be making fun of Caucasian-Americans... also known as "white people". Those of you that know me well can readily attest to the fact that I do not believe in the notion of race. All of humanity is one in the same. There are no boundaries between people other than those we place upon ourselves. There is only one "race"... the human race. That being said, please sit back and enjoy what I find to be quite hilarious. If you get offended... well, you've been warned.

How irritating are white people? They seem to experience problems and difficulties that are either absurd, trivial or downright non-issues. Let's discuss some "White People Problems" and laugh, shall we? Good! Let's begin.

Starbucks - How many frickin' times do I have to hear an air-headed white broad scream about getting coffee from Starbucks? Oh, excuse me... it's not coffee, but it's a latte. Run down there and get your overpriced syrup water and waste a ton of money, you shallow dimwit. With the amount of money your typical white girl spends at Starbucks in a month on sugary pumpkin-spice piss, she could purchase a coffee machine, a large supply of coffee and brew her own for half the price. I hope you C-H-O-K-E on it! WHITE PEOPLE!

Candles - Oh look... Amber just spent twenty-five dollars on a Yankee Candle that smells like camel manure! Really?! You can buy candles that smell just as good for much... much... MUCH less. Better yet, why don't you just buy yourself a pine tree shaped air-freshener that smells like your ass? WHITE PEOPLE!

Christmas - Ever notice how white people love to put on pageants and displays of faith at Christmas? Heaven forbid if Jesus or any of his disciples are portrayed by people of color, though. Yet... they're forgetting a simple, important fact -- all the people in the Bible were from the Middle East... where folks are not white! You have to look no further than the new crap-tastic Moses epic "Exodus: Gods and Kings" for proof. It's a movie made by white people, for white people, starring white people... about Africans. WHAAAAAAAAAAT?! WHITE PEOPLE!

Bread - Some white people have no idea how to spend their money. I know of a dull-minded simpleton that always complains about not having enough money to even buy bread... but her loser husband smokes and she gets $150 haircuts. Go ahead... guess what color she is. I dare you. WHITE PEOPLE!

Golf - Who in the hell stands around to watch someone smack a ball around a giant back yard at a golf tournament? What the hell is wrong with you?! Much less - golf is a sport where the person whom scores the least amount of points is the winner. IT HAD TO HAVE BEEN INVENTED BY A WHITE PERSON! WHITE PEOPLE!

Paying to See Christmas Lights - That's right... some people actually pay good, hard-earned money to see light bulbs. Here's a hint - they're the same people who hate the idea of a dark-skinned Jesus. Here in my locality, there's a particular ritzy gated community that puts on a Christmas Light show every year. It's so big, the city shuts down the road leading into it for traffic. Before you can drive in (on public streets I might add), you have to pay an entrance fee. That's right... white people expect everyone else to buy a ticket to see rays of light. As if their light is better than other light. WHAT?! Do I have to pay if I'm driving through to get to somewhere else? What if I'm walking and not in a vehicle? Where does the money go to? Are these city streets not already paid for and maintained thanks to my tax dollars? Much less, how can you charge a fee for photons to strike the retina and display an IMAGE IN YOUR HEAD? WHITE PEOPLE!

Lotions and Shampoos - Ever notice how white people get entire rows dedicated to their hair, soap and lotion needs? The next time you go into a department store, just take note of how much crap clogs the store shelves for white folk. Shampoo, conditioner, lotion, sunscreen, body wash. Now... take account of how much shelf space is reserved for people of color. It sure as hell is not a lot. Yet, you'll hear some obtuse blonde complain "Ugh, where is my strawberry-scented Fructis?" HELLO - you've got an entire damn aisle dedicated to your hair. WAKE THE HELL UP! WHITE PEOPLE!

Gluten Free Dog Food - If I hear one more white hipster complain that they can't find gluten free dog food in Target (because decent white people don't shop anywhere else), I'm going to scream. WHITE PEOPLE!

Crossfit - When's the last time you saw anyone of color doing Crossfit? YOU HAVEN'T. People of color don't need to work out by throwing tires around and jumping over washing machines. Why? BECAUSE THEY ALREADY HAVE REAL DAMN JOBS THAT MAKE THEM DO WORK! They also work out for free in city parks (which is smart as hell). WHITE PEOPLE!

Weddings - How many times have we all heard some hollow-minded white chick complain about every little detail of her wedding? "OH MY GOD BECKY! MY DRESS IS NOT WHITE ENOUGH! THE WINE IS NOT THE PERFECT TEMPERATURE! MY BRIDESMAIDS ARE NOT IN EXACT ORDER FROM SHORTEST TO TALLEST! MY FATHER BETTER BE HERE WITH THE MERCEDES." AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WHITE PEOPLE!

Camoflauge - Why in the hell do white people want to put camo on everything they own? Their couch, their hat, their scarf, their purse, their pillows, their bra, their watch, their phone case, their wallet! Hello you dipshits - if your wallet or phone is camo and you lose it in the woods, HOW IN THE HELL ARE YOU GOING TO FIND IT?! Maybe you should try employing a little bit more of that blaze orange and a little less camo. WHITE PEOPLE!

Elizabeth - There are enough white girls in the world named Elizabeth (sorry Brooks). ENOUGH! NO MORE! FINITO! Parents - show some creativity when naming your white baby. When's the last time you met a Vera or a Suzette? What about Ambrosia? Yeah... that's it... name your white baby Ambrosia. WHITE PEOPLE!

Because white people can be so damned stupid, I doubt this will be my last article about them.

Tonight's article was heavily inspired by Crystal. She helps me point out all the stupid crap white folks do. Without her, I would not have been able to write it. Thanks!