Très Prétentieux

The Stupidest Animal in the World

2009-02-09T22:01:00.000-08:00

In this world, there are animals and plants. You've got your fungus, bacteria, probably some other stuff. Today I'm dealing with animals, and they can be ranked in order of intelligence. Obviously, human beings are on top. Who's on the bottom? The horse.

If you are a girl attending an elementary school, you might not like what I've got to say. Your love of horses is well-documented, but ultimately unfounded. Read and learn.

A horse is irrational. Everyone knows that violence is rarely justified, but when implemented must be proportional. If I kick you: by all means, kick me back promptly. What does a horse do? It doesn't kick you after you sit on its back and kick it. It kicks you when you are standing innocently behind it. You might even be feeding it or shoveling its shit. Ingrate.

Horses think that they are too cool for the food chain. Everyone knows that a short fish eats a tall fish. Tall fish eats grande fish, and grande fish is in turn eaten by venti fish. A horse is too dumb for this. Horses get eaten by an animal that is at most a quarter of its size. Horses get eaten by dogs, and yet dogs are considered stupid? Think again.

Horses are too stupid for evolution. Evolutionary theory tells us that every species is working as well as it possibly can. Alas, not the horse. A horse has a design flaw. A horse has feet, four of them. These feet would seem to be used as every animal uses them: they make contact with the ground, and propel the horse forward via locomotion. Horses cannot accomplish this, because their feet will get hurt. Their feet are faulty, and must have metal nailed into them. To prevent pain, they must have metal nailed into them, to accomplish the task that every other animal can accomplish without aftermarket alterations.

A horse is too stupid to move its head left or right. If you want to confuse a horse, there is a simple solution. They're called blinders. If you know anything about how blindness works, there are three ways. One, masturbation. Two, some kind of disease or injury that causes eye malfunction. Three, cover your eyes completely. Blinders only cover the side of a horse's head. If a horse needs to look to the left or right, and is wearing blinders, it will be blind. Let's be clear, it has a fully functional neck. It will not use it, because it is stupid.

A horse is stupid because it holds outdated notions about femininity. All other animals have adjusted to the various gains of the women's movement since the tumultuous 1960s. Women are equal to men, and have much to offer intellectually. I guess horses missed the memo, because a female horse is synonymous with a vagina to a male horse. A horse will not notice at all if you replace the female horse that it has been living with its entire life with a warm penis-sized pouch. This is degrading, and it must stop. It also speaks to the profound stupidity of the horse.

Honestly, I could go on and on. However, at this point I fear I am beating a dead horse.

Thoughts

2009-01-18T13:43:00.001-08:00

I make no apologies for the 6 months + since my last post. Every single drop of wisdom that you suckle from my ample teat is a gift, and I owe you nothing.

I was driving home from synagogue this past Friday night, when I looked at the car in front of me. I always read bumper stickers; this one said "My boss is a Jewish carpenter". My first thought: "That's weird, why wouldn't you just say my boss is a carpenter?" My second thought: "Wait, why wouldn't you just say I'm a carpenter?" Then it hit me: oh yeah, Jeeeeeeeeeeezus.

I realize that this isn't that big of a deal, and I'm getting my Jewish panties in a twist (note to my few readers: Jews don't have special panties, you're thinking of Mormons). However, it made me think of several things that I am now sharing for no good reason.

Jesus has basically ruined the entire profession of carpentry for the entire people of Israel. Uncle Bernie goes down to the local hardware store to get some crescent wrenches or hobnails or whatever the hell, and the clerk looks at him: "Jewish carpenter? Just like Jesus hurf durf!"

The reasoning behind this person's choice in bumper sticker, however, is not to say anything about the noble tradition of hammering wood or being a Jew. It is to say, "I'm a Christian". I'm wondering how that information is in any way necessary or interesting. Are we to believe that some ne'er-do-well with a bad case of road rage and nothing to lose will be this close to ramming the back of the unlucky Ford Windstar, when all of a sudden he looks down at the fateful bumper? "Wait just a cotton picking minute! This is a Christian van! Oh no! They surely don't deserve this vehicular homicide!" So the seemingly inane bumper sticker has just saved the very lives of Soccer Mom & the Bible Gang.

Another possible scenario: Dr. Mohammed is a Muslim abortion doctor. An unlikely profession, you say? Not so, for everyone knows that both the Islamic faith and the pro-choice movement are spawned from the deepest darkest depths of Hell. Dr. Mohammed is driving his foreign car home from Planned Parenthood, because he's had a long hard day of abortioning, and is ready to relax. Say, what's this? He looks down, and sees that he is following a car driven by none other than Onward Christian Soldiers. All the time he spent reading the Qu'ran, as well as modern medical textbooks, when all he needed to read to get the truth was this simple bumper sticker! It really made him think. He should be a Christian too! He renounces his faith and his profession and everyone lives happily ever after.

Happy Canada Day!

2008-07-01T14:33:00.000-07:00

Before I start spouting off maple-tinged patriotism, I'd first like to apologise for my lateness in posting. It's been a long time. I shouldn't have left you without a dope beat to step to. Step to step to step to...

Today is Canada Day, and for Americans who barely know their own history I'll briefly explain what that means. On July first, 1867, four British colonies joined together in a federation called the Dominion of Canada. They were Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and the Province of Canada, which split into Ontario and Quebec. This act of federation created an independent Kingdom out of Canada, although Britain held some degree of power until 1982.

What does all that mean to me, a 22-year-old almost college graduate who at this point has lived in the United States for three quarters of my life? It means so much.

Being a Canadian citizen means belonging to a country with a rich history, not entirely bloodless but devoid of imperialism. It means being a part of a true melting pot, a place where multiculturalism has worked almost from its beginning. When I lived in Vancouver, my friends were Indian, Chinese, Anglo, Russian, and were Christians, Sikhs, Muslims, and Buddhists. That diversity would not be reached again in all my years of living in America, until I finally got to college.

Canada is my North American escape pod. If I need to distance myself from the American tendencies of illegal war, environmental degradation and cultural imperialism I know I always have a home above the 49th parallel.

I am proud of the Canadian soldiers who gave their lives in the poppy fields of Flanders during the Great War. I am proud of the men who stormed Normandy in World War II. I am proud of the government's decision to stay out of Korea and Vietnam. I am proud of the soldiers giving their lives as we speak in Afghanistan, the war that's almost forgotten as the rest of the world wonders what the hell is going on in Iraq.

I love hockey, I love universal health care, I love gay marriage. I love Don Cherry, I love the Kids in the Hall, I love SCTV, I love Dan Aykroyd. I love that Toronto is the kind of place where a draft-dodging Rick James can play bass alongside Neil Young in the Mynah Birds, Motown Records' first rock band. I love that the beer is cold and different from water, unlike its American counterparts. I love that I can sing the national anthem without straining my voice or mentioning bombs. I love the juxtaposition of beavers, loons, sailboats, polar bears, and Queen Elizabeth II on money.

God keep our land glorious and free. O Canada, we stand on guard for thee. O Canada, we stand on guard for thee!

Elixir of the Gods

2008-04-29T18:47:00.000-07:00

Take one barely-solid Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut, lovingly nestled in the tender embrace of a piece of Wisconsin's finest cheddar, crispy fried slices off the backs of the finest swine in all the land, and delectable beef hewn from the hardiest cattle, followed of course by the inevitable second Krispy Kreme. This adds up to the closest mankind has ever come to literal metaphysical transformation: this is quite literally the elixir of the gods.

When base humanity in its squalor meets up with the heights of heaven, certain inevitable side effects result. One subject reported a near instantaneous mood change, causing brusqueness with the waitress. This was followed with physical and emotional apathy, and this subject's psyche was not one that would prove to make a return to the summit that is Lutherburger.

When this writer encountered theoculinary bliss (Latin theo God + Latin culinarius, from culina kitchen) it was something struggled with but eventually succumbed to. Rays of ethereal pleasure emanated throughout the entire being, beginning of course primarily in the tongue region. The process was disorienting to be sure, but exhaustingly stimulating as well.

Would we prove ourselves able to remount this Everest? Some said no, they could no more look at meat itself ever again after the experience. Some said that the main impediment to the Lutherburger being a staple of future consumption was the fact that it requires frequenting two restaurants (Krispy Kreme and a reputable burger joint). Nonetheless, it is truly the kind of experience that separates the men from the boys. It separates diabetes, heart disease etc. from so-called "health and wellbeing" as well. The truly great potential Übermenschen among us will choose wisely.

This Career is Taking Off

2008-04-24T11:49:00.000-07:00

Fans of my writing, were they to exist, would perhaps be interested to know that I am a rapper. As such, I have created a Myspace Music page. I am MC G-Rock and the page is here. There is unfortunately no music up there yet, as I am working on finishing my own beats to replace work I have done with other artists', albeit without their permission, such as the late J Dilla (RIP), Madlib, MF DOOM, and the like.

Subject matter includes foreign language excursions into the fields of German sausage production and romance, Finnish census data, benefits and risks of unhealthy behaviour like cigarettes and unprotected sex!

Everyone Should Bite Into a Pig Right Now

2008-04-24T11:15:00.000-07:00

I recently started eating meat last week after being a vegetarian for a year. The main reason for this sea change was bacon. One night after a long day of classes and what have you, i could not think of anything else. I lay awake in bed, my loins longing for the sweet embrace of crispy fried strips of pig. The next morning I ate some, and it has been a staple of my diet in the days since.

Ethically, I feel compelled to point out that we are perfectly justified to utilise a pig for the purposes of providing bacon. Utilitarianism, the fact that killing the pig provides a greater good for society at large (bacon). With human beings, even if someone has no worth to society, we tend to keep them alive because they have inherent worth, and can create things like Thriller, Revolver, Purple Rain, It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, Fargo Rock City...

The most a pig could hope for is for a career in the growth industry of industrialised bacon extraction. A pig is not going to create the complete works of Shakespeare, even if there is an infinite amount of pigs. A pig is not going to create the next Moonwalk or perversely pervasive urban dance hit a la Crank Dat Soulja Boy. Bacon is a marvelous career opportunity to benefit society.

Tricks N Tips

2008-04-13T21:04:00.000-07:00

Acceptable Forms of DNA Evidence to Leave at a Playground

1. Blood, as long as it's yours.
2. Saliva, as long as it's not on the children.
3. Skin cells, as long as they aren't from your genitals.
4. Hair, as long as it's not from your genitals.
5. Semen, accompanied by a notarized letter of consent from a member of the opposite sex above the age of eighteen.

Unacceptable Forms of DNA Evidence to Leave at a Playground

1. Other people's blood.
2. Saliva on children.
3. Skin cells from your genitals.
4. Genital hair.
5. Semen under most other circumstances

Free speech smothered, not enough ideas exchanged

2008-03-20T17:09:00.000-07:00

Remember when college was about the free exchange of ideas and challenging pre-existing worldviews? Me neither.

There has been a disturbing trend in academia for the past few decades, and MSU is a prime example. In the name of so-called tolerance, people and groups in opposition to entrenched moderate liberalism are suppressed. When Chris Simcox of the Minuteman Civil Defense Corps spoke on campus, opponents made a scene and got themselves arrested. When Nazis spoke in Lansing, massive amounts of people counterprotested. When someone’s dry-erase board bears homophobic graffiti, a serious meeting is called instead of getting out the eraser.

I love immigrants and gay people, hate Nazis and especially love gay immigrants. However, the Constitution does not include a right to not be offended. The excuse given is that the First Amendment doesn’t protect speech intended to incite violence. That is an important distinction to be made, but I think that as a group of adults MSU should be mature enough to make it. Either respectfully pay attention to all views or ignore the offensive ones. Wouldn’t you rather be entertained by a crazy YAF-er or other wingnut than be bored by the 50 millionth ineffectual Democrat?

Published on Wednesday, March 19, 2008 in the State News

Come On and Slam and Welcome to the Jam

2008-03-18T15:32:00.000-07:00

Facebook has an awe-inspiring corporate synergy item through CBS Sports. Fill out a bracket for the NCAA men's basketball tournament, and if you win somehow you get Internets Money. If you know me, you'll know there are few things I care about more than athletic competition. When the weather gets warmer, and the plants and animals awake from their slumbers, young men's thoughts turn to college basketball.

I figured the best way to fill out a bracket is to do so scientifically. Each game is a contest between two mascots. They fight valiantly, until one of them reaches a grisly death. Writing about each individual game will take up too much space, plus will be confusing without the aid of a bracket. So I'll give you the more interesting matchups.

Whenever a wildcat opposes anything, they lose. They look mean in the logos, but according to Wikipedia, a wildcat is the same species as the housecat, living outdoors. At one point in the tourney I have the Georgetown Hoyas facing the Gonzaga Bulldogs. Hot bulldog on bulldog action! However, Gonzaga wins because a "Hoya" is not a real thing.

Michigan State wins against the Memphis Tigers to enter the Elite Eight. Generally, tigers did extremely well. They are fearsome indeed. However, I base my confidence in Spartans' tigerfighting abilities on the movie Gladiator. Russell Crowe killed a tiger, I'm pretty sure. Gladiators = Spartans for my purposes. Alas, the Spartans are eliminated when they are drowned by the perfect storm of the Miami Hurricanes.

Going into the final four, we have the South Alabama Jaguars (10) playing the Cal State Fullerton Titans (14). A jaguar is an extremely impressive jungle cat, and would no doubt do much better when not facing a gigantic mythological creature. CS Fullerton wins and goes to the championship. On the other side, the Miami Hurricanes (7) face the Duke Blue Devils (2). This is a tough one. Just like in Pokemon, the water-based abilities of the Hurricanes are a perfect match for the fire and brimstone of the Blue Devils. However, the Blue Devils win because a Devil has near-unlimited supernatural powers.

The championship game: Blue Devils vs. Titans. One for the ages! Mythological creature against mythological creature in the biggest feud since Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie. At first glance, CS Fullerton has the advantage with their immense size. However, it is finite. The Blue Devils have shapeshifting ability, limited only by their need to remain blue. In this respect they are not unlike the Genie from Aladdin. Blue Devils give themselves a size and strength advantage, and become national champions!

Catholics vs. Irish: Resurrection

2008-03-17T14:06:00.000-07:00

Abstinence-only sex education! Pedophilia! Celibacy! Lavish designer fashions! By your powers combined, I am Pope Benedict XVI!

That's right, apparently the Pope thinks he is Captain Planet. That is the only possible explanation for why he felt entitled to change St. Patrick's Day to Friday the fifteenth of March. This Pope character (real name Joseph Alois Ratzinger) claimed that we couldn't possibly celebrate St. Patrick's Day on its actual date of the seventeenth, because that day is part of "Holy Week". Holy Week, for the non-Christians, is the week that celebrates the things Jesus did before he died. Palm Sunday - riding a donkey and getting leaves waved at him. Maundy Thursday - hanging out with this girl he met in grammar school. You get the drift. So what important theological event happened on Monday, two thousand odd years ago? Nothing. Scholars suspect that Jesus spent the day working on what would have been a best-seller, "Don't Look at Me Dudes, I Believe in Evolution!"

What did happen on March 17th, many years ago, was the death of St. Patrick. He is known for driving snakes out of Ireland and converting pagans to Christianity. All reputable scientists know that there never was an Irish snake infestation, but of course that just means he was so good at snake-driving that all evidence of their existence was removed. Converting the Irish to Christianity! They must have been hideously awful brutes before their conversions. Alcoholic, subservient, inhuman brawlers. The world is eternally in St. Patrick's debt for this sea change.

Anyway, the main point of this post was to extol the virtues of infallibility. The Pope can change the calendar! The Holy See Urchin's birthday is April 16th, and he turns an impressive 81 this year. What if he decides that this year, Christmas will last an entire week? Also, it's the same week as his birthday! Yaaaay, presents!

Shall I Be a Corporate Shill? Why, Yes!

2008-02-29T23:18:00.000-08:00

Popular Science

2008-02-19T20:17:00.000-08:00

I spent the better part of the weekend buried deep within the bowels of the MSU Library. I was doing important research; dealing with issues that any man or woman must wrestle with if they are to become a well-rounded citizen. I'm speaking of course of helicopters. What otherworldly forces act upon those glistening blades, propelling helicopters ever higher towards the firmament? Dr. Peter Pablo of Duke University wrote a preeminent study on the topic, and I think his main conclusions are unavoidable:

Take your shirt off.
Twist it around your hand.
Spin it like a helicopter.

In this way we see before us, brilliantly elucidated, the mechanics of flight in simple prose. One needs nothing more to "raise up" than a humble garment.

Having solved the problem of flight, that bane of mankind that has stumped the greatest minds from DaVinci to the misguided Wright brothers, Dr. Pablo turns his attention to another scientific marvel: That of earthquakes. What mysteries of the soil and stone cause such destruction in their wake? The mainstream scientific community spouts blasphemy about so-called "plate tectonics"; in reality, they need look no further than the work of Dr. Pablo. In his landmark 2007 study entitled, cryptically, "Vibrate", he once again reduces the wonders of Creation to a few easy to remember points.

Make that ass vibrate.
Make that ass vibrate.
Make that ass vibrate.
Shake that shit until you start an earthquake.

It is the trembling of the human posterior that causes such destruction. We may not yet have the hubris to control the heavens, but we must be careful with this knowledge that we can, with our jubilant rumps, control the earth.

These Statistics Could Save Your Life

2008-02-07T19:58:00.001-08:00

This just in, from the Centers for Disease Control:

1. Give a man chlamydia, and he has chlamydia for a day. Teach a man how to contract chlamydia, and he'll have chlamydia for a lifetime.

2. Gonorrhea in the hand is worth syphilis in the bush.

3. The early bird catches the human papilloma virus.

4. Keep your chancroids to the grindstone.

5. Aim for the crabs; if you fall short you'll land among the scabies.

6. There's no I in herpes.

Robot Penis, Activate!

2008-02-04T12:10:00.000-08:00

I've always wondered about the quality control that goes into condom manufacturing. A cursory glance at a prophylactic box will tell you that they are tested; aside from that, no one knows for sure. I've heard that the testing can be as little as having a light shone on them. As I imagine it, each condom factory contains hundreds of robot penises.

Take that as you will, it could be as simple as a metallic phallus on an assembly line, or a fully formed Robo Sapiens having its way with some unlucky line worker.

I decided to take matters into my own hands and call Trojan. What is it with web designers making their sites look like hopelessly difficult to navigate cityscapes? It's terrible and was already played out in '97. I finally found out that Trojan is a subsidiary of the Church & Dwight Company, which makes Arm & Hammer baking soda.

Corporate: "Hello, how may I be of service etc."
Me: "Hi, I have a question about Trojan condoms."
C: "OK."
K: "What goes into the testing process? How do you test the condoms?"
C: "OK, let me see if I can divulge that information."
...

C: "Sir? Unfortunately that falls into the realm of proprietary information, and could also constitute giving medical advice, so I'm not going to be able to give that information." He was saying that the secret of condom testing could be used to make my own Rival Condoms and run Trojan out of business. Also, it somehow involves medical advice? If I got dick problems, I ain't calling Trojan.
K: "OK...I actually have a specific question. Does the testing involve robot penises? I think that would make the most sense, can you just tell me if it involves robot penises?"
C: "I can't divulge that."

Somewhere out there, some Decepticon is thrusting ever so gently, and The Man is trying to keep it from us.