Friday, August 31, 2007

Fun Office Fun!

Let's face it people the average working day is really boring. You sit around in front of your computer all day as your youth slowly slips away. Well, that is until robots are invented that will steal your job and you are forced to live on the streets and eat your hands.

But before it gets to that I thought I would teach you all my one sure fire office prank that lightens up everyone's day.

Okay I call this little office prank the "get to know you," and it's pretty simple. What you do is this: find someone in your office that you don't really know that well like let's just say I don't know oh how about Shirley down in accounting.

So here's what you do: Tell everyone you work with how tight you and Shirley are. You have to do your homework on this one so look her up on myspace and google her. Really get to know her find out the name of her pets, who was her first grade teacher, believe me this will all pay off.

Okay once you have this all down head over to Shirley's desk and start reciting this information to her. While you do this never blink. Once you have everyone's attention in accounting shout "I love you!" and then wet your pants.

Once you pull this prank you will be the talk of the office. People do little extra things for you like make sure you get a piece of cake when it's somebody's birthday to making sure you take all your medication and believe me it's the little things like this that help make office life tolerable.

Oh and lastly Shirley if you're reading this: I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU

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Dear Mr. Feelings...

There is no such thing as a stupid question.

That's Mr. Feelings Feelings Law #23. See, every now and again someone out there is grappling with an issue most of us have never thought to ask. Those people turn to Mr. Feelings for help. I've learned to nurture these souls through tough times and help them along the path to wisdom. I say that so you don't get the giggles when you read my next letter.

Dear Mr. Feeling,

How can I get my wife to take it in the butt?

Corn-hole-less in Kentucky

Don't laugh, this is serious.

Dear Corn-hole-less in Kentucky,

Ok, we can talk about this like adults. After all, I did say I was ready to talk about anything. And obviously, Corn-hole-less in Kentucky, you really want to have anal relations with your wife but haven't been able to, so... where to start.

I give up. I can't do this. This is just icky. You do know what comes out of butts don't you? Poo-Poo! Hello! It's a butt. You want to put your thingy-majigger in there! Yuck! I mean, she goes to the bathroom with that thing. What kind of sexual deviant are you! Go to church and discuss this with the local pastor. Kentucky, right? There's got to be a good Baptist preacher who can pray this sin out you.

I mean this is just my two cents, so take it or leave it. I don't know... if you still absolutely, positively have to go through with this, well, there's no way I can see your wife consenting, so wait until she's fallen asleep then try not to wake her. Maybe tie her down and tell it's just a dream and be quick. Then never tell anyone. Bury this butt lust deep down in your heart. This is the kind of crap that can keep a man out of the military.

Whatever, it's not my problem.

No more letters about this.

Mr. Feelings

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Remembering an icon

Princess Diana. Where would this world be were it not touched by your Princess of Wales rich girl hands? If not for you, some other British broad would have had to marry that snaggle toothed inbred English hillbilly and then divorce him and then die in a high speed chase by those evil paparazzi.

All you weasel-dicked shit-for-brains that see some bullshit story like this and take the time to read it should be cleansed from the population. Princess Dianna (Di, Dee Dee... whatever you idiots like to call her so you can pop some oxycontin and pretend you live in Buckingham Palace hobnobbing with royalty instead of in your shitcan house/trailer with a herd of children running around just waiting for their first trip to a county institution) put a hose up her ass and cleansed her bowels just the same as you or I. More sense smacked into you idiots after the jump (that means click the pretty blue link you fucking trash)

24 hour news channels. How awesome are they? Shut the fuck up, I'll get back to that royal corpse in a minute, I'm trying to make a point you mouth breathing mongoloid.

Where was I...
Ah yes. 24 hour news.

CNN, Fox News, MSNBC, and even 24 hour sports like ESPN are the reason some chick who married a rich guy is still a story 10 years after her death. Now if I'm going to prison, I would rather it be a Teen Sex Prison as opposed to any other type of prison, but other than informing me of such an opportunity CNN is mostly a waste of time.

"Stupidneck," you ask, "What does this have to do with my lord and saviour Princess Diana? I am but a humble dick-for-brains who also has the ability to vote for policies I can't comprehend."

Well I'm not going to argue with you on that last point, but the point is that the need to fill ANYTHING with 24 hours of entertainment/news/programming results in the following:


2)Conjuring up news when there is no news ("What item found in most households could give you syphilis? The startling truth from a suspect study that one of our interns found on WikiPedia coming up after these messages!")

3)Rehashing bullshit stories like Princess Diana so that Elton John can hear his worthless music being played somewhere relevant again.

Play me a song you're the sellout-man

Seriously... a song iconifying a vapid actress who sucked her way to a career (and a president's pants) and then died, had a few words changed and then was rereleased to line the wallet of some washed up piano player who thinks he can still rock. Note to Elton: Go away you fat queen. Your music blew, blows and will continue to blow in ages to come and I could care less about your catty comments on society because you don't even know what life is like without a Scrooge McDuck style moneybin. Fuck you and the shitty single you rode in on.

So that begs the question "What is the rationale for taking up so many broadcast minutes with this story if it's so worthless, Mr. Neck?" Ah! Well you see this lady had so much scratch from marrying a fucking prince, that she was able to do nothing most days, but then on occasion, she could travel to a different nation, tell them land mines were bad and then return to the French Riviera where she got double teamed for up to 10 hours at a time by some smelly French guys to the tune of "Always Something There to Remind Me".

Seriously... That's her contribution? She set up some charities and "raised awareness" that land mines near children were a problem? What the fuck is wrong with you people. What a divisive issue she set her sights on! I used to think land mines were A-OK and I actually had a few around my property and in the playground down the street, but now some privileged bird has shown me the light! No more land mine cereal parties for the neighborhood kids. It's simply too dangerous.

William and Harry, enjoy remembering your mother's death. I'm sure it's great to have it brought up every year. But when all looks dark, and you feel naked and alone, just put on your Naked Eyes LP, like I do, and crank "Always Something There to Remind me" and you will never forget your dearly departed mother.

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Thursday, August 30, 2007

What is Wrong with You People

Mr. Feelings is feeling protective. All you upper middle class homeowners who think rap music and illegal immigrants are the end of civilization need a wakeup call. The perfect world you love is being brought down from within by a perverse love of do-it-yourself home improvement. I'm talking about nail guns. For the love of Christmas, just don't use them.

Why not?

Is that good enough reason? If you still feel you need to get all John Rambo when building a spice rack, remember this:

Tip #4: Watch Out Where You're Pointing
Never aim the business end at any hand or any body part. Even from the other side of a workpiece, nails may go through and hit you.

See, that's what the guy in the X-Ray forgot.

I hope some of this got through to you.

Oh yeah, more pictures:

And finally...

I do this because I love you. Need to hear it again? I love you.

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Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Area Man Loses $314 Million Lottery

Tempe Arizona (IML)- Local resident Jeff Kleinburger was devastated Saturday night upon learning he did not win the 314 million dollar multi-state Powerball jackpot. “I just knew I was going to win! And then when numbers all rolled into place, I couldn’t believe my eyes. How could this happen?” Mr. Kleinburger said he had purchased a ticket for the earlier Wednesday drawing as well but never expected to win it, “I had no special feeling about Wednesday’s lotto, but when no one won I just felt it! That three-hundred million was mine for sure.” Kleinburger spent the three day lead up to the drawing making plans to spend his forthcoming millions. Dreams such as moving to a mansion in Scottsdale, taking all his friends on a private jet to Vegas for the weekend, and commissioning a large robot rottwiler to guard all of his “new rich-guy shit,” will have to remain unrealized.

Madeline Kleinburger, mother to the 22 year-old loser, was wontedly disappointed in her son’s most recent failing, “After Jeff quit architecture school two years ago, he took a job at the Apple Store down on Camelback (Road), and not much he has done since has surprised me. But this lotto thing, -it really had him going. Maybe now he will take that job with his uncle at the ostrich farm outside Chandler.”

Coworkers at the Biltmore Fashion Park were promised they too would benefit from Kleinburger’s surefire windfall. Since Thursday Kleinburger has spent both his fifteen and thirty minutes a day in the break room listing the lavish gifts and wads of cash he would spread among his fellow coworkers. According to Apple Store sales associate Ray Cupboard, “Jeff said he would give everyone below manager $50K after he won, so we could all quit and screw this dump.”

Clair Bellwood, the cute hostess at the Cheesecake Factory next door, said Jeff made promises to her which now can never be kept, “He told me that if I went out with him on Friday he would get me that Marc Jacobs bag I have had my eye on. I thought he was an investment in my future, now I think he was just another unsatisfying trip around third base with an ASU drop out.”

Jeff plans to continue working at the Apple Store until the Monopoly game at McDonald’s starts up again. “I eat a lot of Double-Quarterpounders, so this year I just know I am going to drive off in that new Viper Convertible, (with) a Nintendo Wii, and 100,000 American Dollars.”

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Suze Orman, Subprime Whore

Mr. Feelings feels outrage. Outrage at the subprime mortgage implosion. Outrage that our elected officials and their laissez-faire greed allowed this economic apocalypse to come to fruition. But most importantly, I'm outraged at the one person who could have made a difference, but instead of intervening, she played her metaphoric fiddle while Rome burned.

The following is an open letter to my onetime lover and full time bitch, Suze Orman.

Dear Suze,

I haven't heard from you in a while. Six months to be exact. You know... the night I made you a woman and you told me you loved me and that in the morning you'd go with me to look for an antique fauteuil to go with my collection, but then you left while I was asleep and never called me again. You remember that? Yeah, didn't think you would.

Well, anyway, that's not the reason I'm writing. I'm writing because I'm knee deep in debt, and it's all your fault. Remember how during that magical night we spent exploring each other's bodies, I'd asked you for advice on my variable rate home loan, and you said that I shouldn't rush to refinance and lock in a fixed rate because the fed would probably slash interest real soon? Or did you forget that along with the rest of the passion and ecstasy?

In case you forgot, I'm gonna make like Alanis because I'm here to remind you of the mess you left when you went away. That's right, Suze. You, you, you oughta know. You oughta know how Mr. Feelings is about to be kicked out of his condo because he can no longer afford to make payments. I tried finding another roommate to cover expenses, but the building co-op nixed the idea of cramming a third person in a two bedroom. I'm totally cool with sharing my room, but they say it would lower the value of their units. Elitists jerks.

Suze, I gave you something special. I was there for you in a time of need. I know you felt the connection, and that scared you, but don't hide from me any longer. I need you. I really need you. Just help me consolidate some of this debt. In exchange, I'm willing to sleep with you one more time. I've got massage oils and some candles and shit. It's gonna be good. My roommate is working nights, so he doesn't get back until, like, four in the morning. That's a lot of love making.

Think about it.

Mr. Feelings

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Monday, August 27, 2007

How much to make a Japanese kid cry?

Hey dickfeet, it's everyone's favorite jerk back from his contract hold out. My new deal, while not 100% of what I demanded, does require that Bagelman fetch my slippers and play dead on command. I think I'm pretty much satisfied.

But enough about my lucrative wheelings and dealings, some of which may or may not have caused the sub prime mortgage crash, find out what the Japanese have been up to after the jump...

Now most of you don't know this, but one of my several illegitimate bastard children is a fan of sea life, and one time he conned me into some hippy bullshit where we get on some converted fishing trawler and go looking for the sea faring unemployed known as whales. That kids' mother is a worthless whore and it looks like the apple doesn't fall from the vagina that crapped him out. I wound up spending 8 hours on a floating bath tub that smelled like a sailor fresh out of Bangkok.

The Japanese have a better solution.

No better way to teach your kids about the birds and the bees than by tricking them into a peaceful whale watching tour which is actually a seminar on how to use technology to snare and slaughter slower, more docile creatures which lack opposable thumbs with the intent of throwing most of it away or making new and better dick pills out of ground up whale dong.

I told the little bastard we could go on another whale watching trip when we visit Yokohama. Daddy needs a new pack of dick pills.

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Saturday, August 25, 2007

Super Nerd has Nerds Everywhere Nerding Out

With the total pandemonium over the release of Apple's iPhone everyone seemed to forget that you have to be on AT&T (which sucks, by the way). But fear not for there is a super nerd waiting in the wings to guide Apple nerds to a life of choice!

More after the jump!

In New Jersey, in his mother's basement, George Hotz made the announcement on his blog that he has cracked apart his iPhone and made it so he can use it on rival operator T-Mobile.

George spent his entire summer talking to a couple dudes in Russia to figure it all out. It's said that all in all it took a total of 500 hours to figure it out. "Some of my friends think I wasted my summer, but I think it was worth it," says George.

When reached for comment his friends said, "We don't even really like that guy, he's a fucking geek. He just always seems to follow us around." Upon finishing said quote one "friend" did a beer bong and they all gave each other high fives.

Good work, George, I hope this finally gets you some from that chick at the Hot Topic.

Oh, and I fully subscribe to this theory...

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Friday, August 24, 2007


We're sorry to ruin your day but former president of the United States Jimmy Carter has passed on. The major news networks are holding on this story so that residents of Georgia have time to cope. We here at The Incredible Mr. Limpet are breaking the story and you should believe us because we have photoshop and a poorly written blog.

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Monday, August 20, 2007

Another Snowflake In Heaven

Life is precious and unique, like a snowflake. Today, one of those snowflakes passed to the great beyond. Leona Helmsley, the 87-year-old snowflake, is dead. While the world remembers her as the "Queen of Mean," Mr. Feelings remembers her as something much more tender. Love, too, is a snowflake. And Mr. Feelings has seen many of these delicate creations in his lifetime, but none stands out as much as the plump-limped beauty that was Mrs. Helmsley.

Find out why they call me the Hemingway of erotic literature after the jump...

You never forget your first time. No, not sex. I mean the first time you fall in love. It was in Greece, Zakynthos Island. I was a foreign exchange student. She was the rich girl out for a good time. It started as a one night stand but blossomed into a secret love we hid from everyone we knew. I would take her in my arms and say, "Leona, my darling, I wanna do sex to you all night long."

Not long afterwards she was pregnant, and we foolishly planned to run off together. We were to rendezvous at the docks under cover of night and hop the first steamer to Jarkata. Darkness fell, and I waited... and I waited... and I waited. The next morning I read it in the papers. She and her husband had flown to New York to be near her ailing mother-in-law. I never saw her again.

I drowned my sorrows in a bottle of ouzo with a side saganaki, followed by an entrée of kleftiko and stifado with milopita me pandespani as the dessert. The food was delicious, and I forgot completely about pregnant ol' whats-her-name. Then my buddy, Jace, told me about a sweet party at the topless beach. I'd never seen so many boobs. It was awesome. We set a row boat on fire and got laid.

I returned to the United States with a B- Greek Art, a C+ in Greek History, and an A+ in love. Also, Leona gave me nasty "social disease," a reminder of our time together. I'll never forget her words to me: "I don't do condoms; only the little people do condoms."

So now when you see Mr. Feelings eating a gyro and weeping tears of regret, you'll know why.

Goodbye, Leona. We'll always have Greece.

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Friday, August 17, 2007

Back Row Review Show: THE HILLS

Bling is back BOY!.

I know some of you have been wondering where I’ve been. But of instead of e-mailing me, why don’t you e-mail the editor of this blog and ask him when he’s going to start paying people in DOLLARS instead kind words and ho-hos.

“Nice work” may cut it France or even in Africa, but here in Los Angeles (Redlands), “good job” and “keep it coming” aren’t enough to satisfy a beast of a woman who has somehow made it her life’s mission to take not only everything in my bank account and my kitchen, but my soul and all my Family Guy T-shirts I got when I robbed that AAAAH’s at Universal Citywalk two summers ago.

But like Ernest Hemmingway once wrote: “You can’t stop the beat bitch.” So since I’m a writer, I’ve decided to write anyway. And what a summer it’s been!

Last Monday, like the rest of America, I tuned into to MTV to watch the first two episodes of THE HILLS. Spencer, you are the man playboy! Dating hot blond girls, blinging out your apian excuse for teeth and rolling around with your boys in a range rover in the mean streets of Beverly Hills, man, what a life! Next time you have a party at Les Deux, what don’t you call swing by Bling’s stop and let me ride? I’d be the best character ever that show has ever seen! But I’m telling you now, don’t look at Bling when all the girls on the show start getting pregnant.

How can we make this happen! Easy! I urge my readers and the youth of America to start a letter writing campaign to knuckleheads at MTV and make me a character on the Hills. I can move in with Spencer or Brody when my anklet is taken off. Or, I noticed that my darling Whitney has broken up with her boyfriend. Who’s a better love interest than your boy Bling!

I’m telling you MTV: Bling. The Hills. Whitney. My fist. Spencer’s big ass jaw. It’s a match made in heaven. But again, when Whitney gets pregnant….don’t look my way. It’s love baby.

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Reader Mail!

As we dust off the cobwebs that have been collecting here at "The Incredible Mr. Limpet" I figure it's time we go to the old mail sack and answer some of the questions that you the reader have approached us with. Think of this a mea culpa for the months we left you hanging over the status of my job problems or the fate of Nacho Friendly during his sex filled romp through Costa Rica. Anyway follow me after the jump for your words.

Okay this first letter comes to us from reader Clyde Fox and he asks:

"Are you about to give up the fight for your bigger orgasm and greater ejaculation? STOP, there's a solution now!!! Achieve the feeling of complete ecstasy while having ball blowing orgasms."

Eww. I don't think I know who you are Clyde but that's really gross. A ball blowing orgasm? Jesus I'll just take my run of the mill ball tickling orgasms thank you very much.

Well, I'm glad we're done with that unplesantenss let's move on to the next letter. Okay this one comes from a reader named ROFECO Procuradoría Federal del Consumidor and he writes:

"Estimado ciudadano le informamos que el Tecnologico de Monterrey y PROFECO tienen como proyecto informale a los ciudadanos de Mexico un servicio que le da a conocer que Gasolineras de nuestro pais son irregulares por lo tanto seria aconsejable que usted tome medidas de su provedor de gsolina mas cercano o tenga en otras opciones algunas que si se ajusten a su precio y cantidad por litro."

Huh? I can see a Mexico in there but the rest of this is just gibberish. Mr. ROFECO Procuradoría Federal del Consumidor if you chose to write back to us would you mind PROOF READING. It's really annoying to read something on the internet and having to guess at what the writer is trying to say. We here at "The Incredible Mr. Limpet" just won't stand for that.

Okay and now on to the last letter. This one comes from a reader named Irish National Lottery and she writes:

"Dear winner,

This mail is to bring to your notice that your email emerged as one of
our winning email address in our just concluded Irish Lottery Board
sweepstakes programme that made you automatically a winner of the sum
of £750,000.00(GBP)

Please note that your lucky winning number falls within our European
booklet representative office in Europe as indicated in your coupon.
In view of this, your £750,000.00(GBP) will be released to you by
any of our payment offices in Europe.

Our European agent will immediately commence the process to facilitate
the release of your funds as soon as you contact him or her.For
security reasons, you are advised to keep your winning information
confidential till your claim is processed and your money remitted to
you in whatever manner you deem fit to claim your prize.

This is part of our precautionary measure to avoid double claiming and
unwarranted abuse of this program. Please be warned!!!
To file for your claim, please contact our Claims Agent and fill the
payment processing form and send it to our claims agent immediately.

Name Of Claims Agent: Mr. Ricky Williams
Email address

1.FULL NAMES:__________________________________
5.MARITAL STATUS:___________________
7.E-MAIL ADDRESS:_____________________________
8.TELEPHONE NUMBER:_____________________
10.AMOUNT WON:___________________________________
11. COUNTRY________________________________"

Holy Shit! We just won the lottery!!! I'll just send this lovely person all my personal information and wait for the money to come pouring in! I'll see you all in hell! HAHAHAHHA

Anyway that's it for today if you guys have anything to say to us simply write us at Bye

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Thursday, August 16, 2007

Vegas! Set Phasers to Fun!

This weekend two members of the Limpet family set out on a spur of the moment field trip to America's bacchanalian capital. You know what we're talking about. Vegas, baby. What delightfully grownup and sinful good times awaited us there? Swimming in an ocean of carnal delight, us Limpet boys did what any red blooded man would do. We went to The Official Star Trek Convention at the Las Vegas Hilton (brought to you by the people at Creation Entertainment). That's right, those Limpet boys did the unthinkable again and crashed Vegas's most exclusive party.

I lack the eloquence to sum up the experience, so I'll borrow a quotation to express my thoughts:

"... a dream that became a reality and spread throughout the stars" -- Captain James T. Kirk (Star Trek T.O.S. Episode #69, Whom Gods Destroy)"

Take a moment to wipe that tear from your eye on account of the beauty of Kirk's words. This event was better than Brazilian Carnival, Halloween, Christmas and Take Your Daughter to Work Day all rolled into one.

How awesome was it? Well, one bespectacled nerd fan put it best when he said, "These have been the best three days of my life." Not for a second do I doubt that claim.

Hats Bagelman wishes he was Klingon. He also wishes he had 40 bucks to buy this prop knife.

The wardrobe of choice was a Star Trek uniform top, fanny pack, ill fitting jeans and sandals worn with socks. In other words, for the first time ever, someone from Limpet was over dressed. But what these people lacked in outer beauty, they made up for in sheer enthusiasm. They're the fat girl who refuses to let life get her down, the retarded kid who celebrates his "specialness," the drunk hobo who'll let you punch him in the face for a dollar. Misfits, all, refusing to conform to society's rigid standards of normalcy.

We arrived on the final day of the four day event, but like Vanessa Williams promised, the best was indeed saved for last. That's because both Leonard Nimoy and William Shatner took the stage stealing our hearts in the process.

Spock is only half human, but he's completely in love with Kirk.

Ok, truth be told, Nimoy was a lot of fun (he wore a "#1 Vulcan" T-shirt), but Shatner is a senile bore. Both myself and Hats fell asleep at different points during his old man tyrade.

And since this whole thing took place at the Hilton, we took the chance to go on the Star Trek Experience. The experience begins when you fork over 45 bucks, then walk through the "museum" which is just a really long hallway on the way to two rides that don't justify the price tag. But if you're going to do this sort of thing, you should do it right, dammit. So yeah, no regrets. If you don't believe me, just look at the photos.

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

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Tuesday, August 14, 2007

When the Moustache Fades, I Wonder, Will I Dream?

Hey folks, it's been awhile since your local neighborhood mustachioed fellow dropped a line. We men are in severe trouble and you ladies are in tremendous luck. The late great trend of replacing men is upon us and how will we fight back against this? With brute force and anger destroying all of it.

Follow me after the jump because this has gotten far beyond dildos...

In Japan there has been a new pillow developed that will replace all men. It's the man pillow. It's there, it's quiet, it's comfy, and it certainly doesn't roll over away from snuggling to snore loudly.

To top it off, the pillow also "keeps the body balanced" providing a good night's sleep that this humble blogger could never promise.

Junko Suzuki is quoted saying, "It keeps holding me all the way through. I think this is great because this does not betray me."

That's right you heart a low low price of $80 this pillow has it all. Except, of course something another $80 will solve fairly easily.

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Wednesday, August 8, 2007


In last week's episode of AMC's first original series "Mad Men" a female character wondered aloud why she felt comforted by a male character. He responded that it was because of his deep voice. I've always had an affinity towards etymology and the psychology of language. This got me thinking: who has had the most effect on me, personally, using solely their voice?

If you want to take the easy way out you can go the James Earl Jones route. Sure, my eyes get quite misty every time I hear the baseball speech from "Field of Dreams", but I'm looking for something deeper, something more viceral. Someone along the lines of Thomas Hayden Church is more fascinating to me because his voice, like, say Stanley Tucci's, is subtly comforting. Both men sound like Dads, and really, who could not buy a product your Dad endorses?

Wrap yourself in the warmth and safety of Limpet's voice, after the jump.

Commercials are funny: we're supposed to be persuaded to do what they tell us to, based (usually) on an image of the product and the voice of someone convincing you to buy the product. The ad agencies of today know how to get the most mileage out of this better than any generation before us.

When a company and a voice come together in pure, total harmony, it's something to be admired. In this age of "here today, gone tomorrow" where blogs, celebrities and even news are more fickle than one can feasibly wrap their heads around, it's nice to see a company stick to their guns.

One such company is MasterCard. Did you know that for the past ten years you've been listening to somewhat-notable actor Billy Crudup? He's appeared in only one commercial, which, apparently does not exist on the internet. You probably remember it: two folks scrounging around a gas station late at night and the attendant tries to guess why their there. Yep, that's Billy, and he's been hawking MC for going nigh on ten years now.

I just wanted to take a moment to admire consistency in an ever-changing world. There's so little stability today that I take comfort in it where and when I can, and for the past ten years, Billy Crudup has made me think, "you know what, I should get a MasterCard."

Of course, I'm a Visa man. Always have been, always will be.

So while I admire Billy, and his decade-long attempt to increase the amount of debt I'm in, his efforts have been for naught.

You, sir, are priceless.

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Lego Man Answers Your Prayers

Repent! The Lord's prophet is upon thee! And this time, he's made of Lego. Like Jonah vomited out by a great fish, Mr. Lego arrived at a Dutch beach bearing a stern warning from Yahweh...


That's really all I've got to say on the matter. I mean, the linked article says it all. So, really, why bother with commentary. As a matter of fact I wouldn't even bother writing about this if it weren't for the arrogance of Hats Bagelman. Bagelman thinks he runs this show like some fancy pants Lego prophet from God. As if his hastily strung together prose give him authority over the greatness that is Mr. Feelings.

Eat it, Bagelman! I've got half a mind to post naked pictures of you on the internet!

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