I'm really hoping it's cats that look like Hitler, because I can never get enough of that.

I'm not a big fan of Facebook. It started off as a fun way to stay in touch with your college friends, then turned into a corporate shill/nexus of narcissism/wretched hive of scum and villainy. The people with the least to say seem to say the most. To quote Mark Zuckerberg, "Rob Curtis is gearing up for Friday. Who cares?"

But it is a good way for companies to advertise. Get yourself on The Facebook and show the kids you're cool. Spread the word about your Medicare Supplement Insurance via social networking. Sure, why not?

But if you're going to show off your followers, you should probably make sure they're not Neo Nazis first. I'm looking you at IMDB:

More like nazIMDB.

Right there next to poor Columbo is a swastika. Poor, poor (Jewish) Columbo. Not cool, guys. Not cool.

Although possibly fitting. It's also next to Mater, who I'm pretty sure is a skinhead. Why else would he not have a hood? He shaved it off! "Dad gum, I hate minorities!" And Finn McMissile has a little Hitler moustache. No wonder the critics hated it.

How can you be a Nazi and "like" IMDB? Every good racist has paranoid delusions about Jews controlling the film industry. You're really phoning in your hatred, Omer.

Velocirapture

With the end of the world being tomorrow and all, I figured I should go out with one last blog post. You know, one for the road. Or one for the light beam or Bifrost or whatever it is that will carry us to Heaven.

That's right, "us." I'm getting raptured up to Heaven, unlike all of you heathens. Not on my own, of course. On a scale of 1 to Mother Theresa, I put my odds of being raptured somewhere between Charlie Sheen and Arnold Schwarzenegger. No, I plan on clinging to a non-Catholic priest at the last second and going up stowaway style. Just like that whale lady grabbing on to Kirk to sneak into the 23rd century in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home.

Sure it won't be a true rapture, but it will still count - kind of like a statutory rapture. So I'll be up in Heaven enjoying The End Times in the lap of luxury (presumably with mountains of cocaine and free-but-quality hookers) and you, my pitiable readers, will be stuck in Hell-on-Earth. The best you can hope for is a Mad Max or Book of Eli, but really you'll be looking at more of a Cormac McCarthy's The Road type situation. Jibbly. If I were you I'd cross my fingers and hope somebody with your name has been really good, and that the rapture beam operator isn't terribly bright.

Even with my happy ending fast approaching, I still have my regrets. Buying so many Treasury Bills that reach maturity on 22 May 2011 is one. Not updating this blog more often is another. Of course I wish I'd spent more time with my family. But man, that Treasury Bill thing is really going to kill me.

I'm curious what's going to happen in the 5 months between rapture and the true end of the world. Obviously I'm hoping for zombies, and apparently that's where the CDC has their money, too. Other possible options include (in order of likelihood):

1. Flood
2. Fire
3. Famine
4. Irresistibly cute bunnies that explode into poison gas clouds when approached
5. Plague

Just remember, no matter the situation you can never have too many shotguns.

On that nugget, I will bid you a fond adieu. If we don't make it past tomorrow, so long and thanks for all the ish!

Guppy Breathing

I was walking out of a Best Buy when I discovered that little gem sitting on the quarter toy machine. Apparently it's an educational booklet put out by the EPA to educate children about asthma. But like so many things in life, it confuses and befuddles me.

I understand the reason for making your representative a goldfish. Nobody is allergic to goldfish, and you can't even touch 'em anyway. Slimy bastards. But if you're picking a hypoallergenic spokescreature, why name him "Dusty?" That's a trigger! With this approach you lose all the cuddle-factor while still evoking the image of worsening respiratory status. Go entirely hypoallergenic or not at all, don't half-ass it. If you made a line of kosher food products, you wouldn't make the mascot "Adolf the Dreidel."

Also, "asthma triggers" and "funbook" don't really belong in the same sentence. Maybe the Better Breathing Funbook would be more aprapos. There's nothing fun about having your asthma triggered. Except for all the attention, and hospital food, and (if you're at PCH) playing video games with the Child Life people. Okay, I take it back. PCH is pretty sweet, and it is a little fun to be there. Just ask "Histamine the Anaphylactic Shock Bumble Bee" and his Allergic Reaction Funbook.

If you'd like to see the book in it's entirety, check it out here. In the meantime, I'm working on a new mascot for the next edition. Meet Puff Daddy, the Asthma Metered Dose Inhaler:

Yikes! So angry! Maybe needs a little work...

That's enough, Justin Bieber

(please note, if you are Justin Bieber or if you've contracted Bieber Fever I'd advise you to stop reading right now. And may god have mercy on your soul)

What's the deal with this kid? He seriously creeps me the hell out. Let's break it down:

1. He is way too young to be singing the things he sings. His first album was released when he was 15, and it contained such songs as One Time, One Less Lonely Girl, and Love Me. You are not old enough to be singing about loving the ladies! Or in his words, "I'm c__ing for you." Inappropriate!

I'm not a stuffy old man, I know that kids are growing up faster these days. And with "The Twilight Saga: New Moon" starring the underage Taylor Lautner, pedophilia is so hot right now. But come on, people. You need to wait until at least Tanner Stage 3 before singing songs about "how many ____ you ______" (his lyrics, not mine).

2. What's with the hair, dude? It looks like you were inspired by Julia Roberts in Hook. But to be fair, who wasn't?

Alternatively, it looks like Captain Caveman is giving birth to your face.

3. Too much collagen in the lips, bra. You're like a slightly more masculine version of Angelina Jolie. Scratch that, she can kick ass. A slightly less masculine version of Angelina Jolie.

4. People have actually been trampled trying to see him. Trampled! Don't get me wrong, I love a good trampling. It's even fun to say...trample. But you've got to save your tramplings for important things, like Apple store openings and iCarly appearances. If you start trampling your friends for every flash-in-the-pan teen pop sensation, they'll lose their meaning. Why do you think we don't run people out of town on a rail anymore?

-----

There you have it, America. 3 good reasons and 1 mediocre reason to grow bored with Justin Bieber. Sorry, Bieber, it's time for you to spend the rest of eternity in Fólkvangr away from the rest of us.

I managed to mention Justin Bieber, Twilight, Taylor Lautner and iCarly all in one post. Now I just need to sit back and wait for all the unsuspecting tween googlers to be lured into my trap.

King Chicken!

Top of the muffin to you!

Happy belated St Patrick's Day! I like St Patty's day for several reasons. First, I like the color green. Even if it isn't easy being it. Second, the first time Legal Counsel and I went to Disneyland together was on or around St Patrick's Day. Third, it's an excuse to drink. Fourth, it's an excuse to eat slimy beef and gas-inducing vegetables:


Fifth, and perhaps most of all, is the Shamrock Shake. I've probably written multiple times on the virtues of the Shamrock Shake, but I can't emphasize enough how amazing it is. This semi-gelatinous, unnaturally green beverage truly is modern ambrosia. Here it is, in all its glory:


Unfortunately, when Legal Counsel and I went to McDonald's, we had to endure this delightful exchange.

(Legal Counsel is wearing a sweater with Mickey Mouse on it)
McDonald's Lady: If you think Disney is popular here, you should see it in China.
Legal Counsel: Oh, have you been to China?
McDonald's Lady: No, but in the Chinese Cultural Center here they have a whole wall of Disney in their movie room.
(awkward silence while I ignore the fact that every store in America that sells DVD's has a Disney section)
McDonald's Lady: They even put Mickey in one of those Chinese hats!
(awakward silence. What the hell is a Chinese hat?)
McDonald's Lady: I have a theory that animation from one culture is always more popular in other cultures. Like the Chinese. And Mexicans.

As you can see, things started to get a little racist. Why do things always go racist around me? Anyway, we managed to keep our trappers shut and politely nod long enough to avoid getting a green, slimy lougie in our green, slimy drinks.

Only 356 days until St Patrick's Day 2011...

I'm looking at the man in the mirror

I know I haven’t written in quite some time, and for that I apologize. Before you judge me too harshly, just hear me out. And I know, excuses are like assholes, everybody has one and they all stink. But also like assholes, I have two excuses. First, I work a lot. That’s pretty self explanatory. The second reason…well, that takes a little more explanation.

You see, I’ve developed an interest in someone other than my wife. And that interest takes a significant portion of my time - thinking about this person, trying to catch glimpses of them, etc. I know it’s wrong to announce a bombshell like that on the internets before I‘ve even told my wife, the lovely Legal Counsel, but I don’t have the chutzpah to say it to her face and she has to find out somehow.

The person of interest in this scenario is our neighbor. A magnificent specimen of a human being, I must say. I first laid eyes on him fairly soon after moving into our marital nest, but my infatuation has taken some time to blossom.

He’s in his late forties or early fifties. He’s not a fan of wearing shirts while in his condo, or of keeping the blinds closed, or of exercise. He is a fan of food, and watching TV, and body hair. I’ve tried to come up with the best way to describe him, and I’ve found that I need to invent new phrases to adequately illustrate his semblance. The two best are fleshglobe and meatsphere.

If you had a friend who thought himself to be hilarious but others thought to be vulgar and offensive (aka Montgomery), and that friend decided to dress as a giant scrotum for Halloween, he would probably look much like our neighbor. Round…hairy…but not quite as wrinkly as the real thing.

Normally I wouldn’t be so concerned with a morbidly obese man. A person’s health and lifestyle are their own business and I’m no Adonis myself. But this guy’s body is so prominently and unashamedly on display that I feel he’s inviting discussion. Hell, this could be some really high concept modern art exhibit of which I’m totally oblivious. And if it is, then I say bravo. This is way more provocative than that Jackson Pollack hack.

So I find myself walking back and forth between my car and my condo, hoping that he’ll be there in all his half-naked, quarter-ton glory. So every time you find yourself on my blog and fail to see a new post, realize that I’m thinking of that beefcake. And you should do the same thing.

Ooh, beefcake - that’s another good descriptor.