The Incredible Mr. Limpet

What are you doing over here?

2008-08-12T13:14:00.000-07:00

I mean come on we haven't posted here in seven months. Anyway we're off to bigger and better things over here. Once you start crysturbating you're life will never be the same.

No, seriously we're at the new site. There's no reason to keep reading.

And On to Green Bay

2008-01-08T12:18:00.000-08:00

Dear Washington,

I'm sorry we ate all your oysters.

Mike Holmgren

Dear Holmgren,

I can't believe you ate all those oysters without me.

Jim Mora, Jr.

Dear Redskins fans,

I'm sorry I didn't look after said oysters.

Joe Gibbs

Interest in Self Indulgent Blog Wanes

2007-11-30T17:48:00.000-08:00

LOS ANGLES, California (IML) – After only ten months online, the unpopular internet blog The Incredible Mr. Limpet has lost much of its readership, and often posts no new content for weeks at a time.

Counterfeit Jewish man, and self proclaimed Editor in Chief of the Limpet site, Hats Bagelman attributed the drop of over 4,000 visits per month between November and March of this year, to the collapse of the housing market and, “general malaise.” Sources close to the midden website contend that the loss of page hits is actually due to a public lack of interest in unintelligible “comedy” articles riddled with spelling mistakes and grammatical errors.

When reached for comment former readers of the disesteemed blog gave their own interpretations of why the blog is such a failure. Regular commenter on the much abhorred blog known only as Micki observed, “I used to like the blog okay, but why keep checking it when there isn’t a new article but every month?”

Amanda Meadows of Costa Mesa, California said of the slovenly website and indeed this very article, “’Interest Wanes?’ More like ‘Interest Never Garnered.’ And who told you I was a reader?”

When Mr. Bagelman was asked why he did not simply take the webpage down he replied, “Meh. It is just easier to let it sit.” It seems The Incredible Mr. Limpet will continue to waste server space at Google for years to come.

-The Incredible Mr. Limpet is a blog run out of Los Angeles which carries a variety of articles that run the gamut of unintelligible sports reporting, misguided love advice, poorly written short stories, photo comparisons of puppets and celebrities, angry rants, wondering wildlife news, and blatant rip-offs of the Onion.

Which one is which?

2007-11-25T17:26:00.001-08:00

The Moustache is on the Market...

2007-10-26T11:46:00.000-07:00

So Basketball season is just around the corner and I have to admit I haven't had a pro team to root for in quite a while. Upon losing my faith in the sport when I was a youngster I haven't really paid attention until last year's playoffs. Now, in order for me to pick a team and follow them until crushing defeat or playoff glory I am calling on you, faithful readers, to tell me to root for your team.

After the jump, a few things about myself.

Over the last few years my love for professional sports has become more intense than it ever was possibly due to the coming to terms that I am incredibly out of shape and will never, in any way, shape or form, be allowed to play on a sports team ever.

I live in the Los Angeles area, but am not totally opposed to rooting for an out of market team. I grew up a Yankee fan (dad is from NY), but in recent years all the heckling and being spit on by Boston douchebags has caused me to realize that I'll take my pain and suffering to Dodger Stadium (not to mention I live right down the street). As far as football goes, we have no team in the area, but I grew up a Bills fan (curses to my father who traded over to the Browns, wtf?). The Bills, obviously, is another team I cry about and pretend there's something in my eye just about every week. I don't have a hockey team. I don't want a hockey team.
Don't send me stuff about your favorite hockey team. Even if they are local, I can't watch them. Get your shit together NHL.

So get to it folks, email me at 10lbperuvianmoustache@gmail.com and find me a home. The months of February and March are ever so lonely without some team to root for in the NBA.

When Will 9/11 Be Funny?

2007-10-23T12:23:00.000-07:00

It's been what? 6 years now? I think it's time for us to laugh about a plane crashing into the side of a building killing a massive amount of people...well, at least my mother thinks it's time.

I'm at home over the weekend for a nice relaxing weekend and decide to turn on some of the quality programming over at the Discovery Channel. They have a disaster weekend planned and I'm into that sort of digital construction of tsunami's decimating different coastal cities all over the world. The one I was watching? New York of course.

So my mom comes in to get some quality time with her son and begins watching the program along with me. They show a woman sitting on a bench paying no attention to a giant fucking wave to end all waves coming in from the ocean. I mean this girl is sitting there listening to her AM/FM radio tape player combo she got from Radio Shack because she hasn't had a date in years, hence why she's sitting at a Manhattan ocean front all alone waiting for certain doom.

I make some comment about her blatant disregard for her own life, but my mother's retort is what sent me reeling. "Well, you'd think the people in New York City would be more concerned about airplanes running into their buildings than a big wave."

Wow. I'm reporting this to you because, ladies and gentlemen, 9/11 is officially funny on the west coast. A conservative 54-year-old woman has decided it for us.

We will never forget. And that's a good thing considering the comedic potential that awaits us.

How We Fight

2007-10-10T10:37:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure about new military tactics being developed, but this is sure to turn some heads at the pentagon and get implemented to keep order in those unruly Iraqi cricket games.

$200 Million For What Exactly?

2007-10-04T11:51:00.001-07:00

Dear readers I need your help. I just read an article on CNN about a McDonald's employee who was forced to strip by a man impersonating a police officer. Apparently similar incidents had been occurring at other McDonald' restaurants in the area, and management failed to alert this particular McD's, so she is suing for $200 million in damages. That sounds like it would be pretty cut and dry, but it isn't. Please read the article and tell me exactly what happened?

From what I gather the phony police officer was actually just on the phone calling from Florida?

"A Florida man, David Stewart, was acquitted last year on charges of
impersonating an officer, soliciting sodomy and soliciting sexual abuse in the
incident... Donna Jean Summers, the assistant manager, was convicted of unlawful
imprisonment. Her former fiancee, Walter Nix Jr., is serving a 5-year sentence
for sexual abuse and other crimes."

And then for some reason the assistant manager handed the phone to her boyfriend who took over the "investigation?

"Ogborn was 18 and working at a McDonald's in April 2004 when she was forced to
strip after a man called the store, claiming he was investigating a theft. At
one point during the 3½-hour search, the assistant manager's boyfriend was left
to handle the phone call."

Then somehow Ogborn ended up naked and performing sex acts on the boyfriend/Fiance?

"During the trial, jurors watched more than an hour of a security video of
the hoax call. On the video, a nude Ogborn is shown performing sex acts on
herself and Nix."

What? What? WHAT??? Help me friends. I don't understand what took place here. If anyone was in the area, or knows someone who works at CNN and they just left out a big portion of this article, please explain to me.

If I was forced to recap I would say: a guy calls McD's, says he is a cop, the phone is handed the boyfriend Nix, the guy on the phone says he Nix is to strip search Ogborn, then the guy on the phone says Ogborn is to perform sex acts to prove she is no thief. This can't be right. I know this took place in Kentucky but come on.

Please leave explanations in the comments section or email them to me at: Fatty.R.Buckle@gmail.com

***UPDATE***

Thanks to reader Micki, this whole thing is alot more clear, and holy god is it aweful! Not sure if How much McDonald's is actually responsible but at least one person who works there and another who doesn't should be in Jail.

The Video explains:

Idiots Enjoy Meeting to Talk About Stupid Things

2007-10-03T09:47:00.000-07:00

So this well educated citizen on the left here and this pillar of the community to the right...

Have decided to join forces and are talking about how to secede from the United States that just doesn't fit their well crafted ideology.

That's right, in the most important news story since November of 1860, the Middlebury Institute and the League of the South have met to decide how to secede from the union. OK, well it actually isn't that important because some group of hippy dipshits are having a tea party with some old white dudes from the south (Note: The League of the South will be drinking mint juleps or bourbon at this tea party. Tea is for queers and hippy dipshits)

Who is the Middleton Institute you ask? Well they're just about as worthless as you, monkey dick. They're lead by Thomas Naylor, a former professor at Duke University. They don't say what he was a professor of, but for the sake of this article it will be assumed that he was Associate Dean of Agricultural Sciences. His love for weed made him the hit of the student body. All that was in the past however, now, he is so upset at President Bush and everything else that his whining and crying has been unable to change that he wants Vermont to secede. Good thinkin' poindexter.

Who is the League of the south? I'll let this quote do my work for me:

The League of the South says it is not racist, but proudly displays a Confederate Battle Flag on its banner....."They call everybody racists," Sale said. "There are, no doubt, racists in the League of the South, and there are, no doubt, racists everywhere."

OK well that's true enough. I mean racists DO exist so whatever raise the confederate flag and refer to "the darkies" under your breath so as not to shame yourself. "League of the South - Making Sense Since... Wait When Did Dukes of Hazzard Go Off The Air? Yeah Since Then." No seriously that's their motto. Call them and ask them dickwad.

One more good quote and then I'll let you get back to masturbating at your desk and hoping your boss doesn't walk by.

"It doesn't matter if our next president is Condoleeza (Rice) or Hillary (Clinton), it is going to be grim," said Naylor, adding that there are secessionist movements in more than 25 states, including Hawaii, Alaska, New Hampshire, South Carolina and Texas.

Hear that cretins? There are idiots all over America! And roughly 43 of them have it in their fever cooked gray matter that they can get people onboard with their secession plan.

Watch out America, we are this close || to having each home in America becoming its own City-State.

Wholesome for Olson part 2

2007-09-17T17:02:00.000-07:00

Maybe I should stop writing about college football.

Well, it's a good thing I'm a Miami Dolphins fan too, right?

Oh god when does basketball seaosn start?

Make Your Natural Tendencies Pay

2007-09-14T20:52:00.000-07:00

Phase One: Complete

Greg Oden, as you may have heard, will be sitting this one out for the remainder of the 2007-8 season. Which, I guess, makes it a good thing there's only eighty-two games left. But is there more to it than meets the eye?

I've got a sneaking suspicion this is all part of an elaborate plan set in motion by Mr. Oden to abandon his professional sports career and embrace the life he's always wanted: periodontics.

The greatest cinematic dentist in history, after the jump.

Greg Oden's been expressing his deep-seeded desire to rinse and repeat since he's been in the public eye. This whole microfracture surgery business is the perfect cover. Whose gonna question it when he hobbles back at "50%" and never achieves the potential we all forced upon him? Durant's gonna have the more illustrious career anyway, why not embrace the life you love when you're young, it would appear all it takes its a pink unitard thingie?

If Oden wants to fade into obscurity, I'll allow it. We got so many future All-Stars out of this draft, we sent one of the the Bucks. What's it to us if we lose one of 'em? Besides, this gives me the chance to say asinine things like "Oden's the new Darko."

And now, cinema's finest dentist:

Trick Question

2007-09-14T17:59:00.000-07:00

Who do you think would win in a fight: Dane Cook or The Sports Vaganus?

The answer, after the jump:

the rare North American Sports Vaganus

The Answer: Iraq

(We here at Limpet feel that if once-funny writers, and funny-the-first-time comics can unleash their drivel upon us, we can do so right back to them, sans explanation. That's why Iraq is the answer. Bitches.)

Wholesome for Olson

2007-09-12T22:49:00.000-07:00

As the college football season dawns upon us there have been many interesting Heisman campaigns going around the intertubes. USC fans for example have started a website called Booties for Booty where female USC fans make their father's proud by showing off what god gave them in order to sway the Heisman voters.

Well, being the UCLA fan that I am I have decided to start my own campaign for super QB Ben Olson. Follow me after the jump the awesomeness.

Welcome to Wholesome for Olson. Where we will display wholesome and nice pictures that celebrate the gridiron greatness of Mormon Superman Ben Olson.

See that kitty he loved Ben Olson's 5 TD performance against Stanford.

Aww.

They say there is no such thing as unanswered prayers.

Do you have a picture that's wholesome enough for Ben Olson? Send it to incrediblemrlimpet@gmail.com and we'll post it.

Submited by our own Fatty Arbuckle:

From Mr. Feelings:

Work is Freedom, Sloth is Sin!

2007-09-12T10:53:00.000-07:00

Russia is in crisis comrades! The population is in decline! There's only one thing for us to do! Have sex. Lots and lots of sex. Dirty stinky nasty sex. And you know what? Big Brother is here to help you out with that.

More after the jump...

The recent decline in the population in Ulyanovsk region of Russia has spawned a bit of a crisis in the eyes of it's governor, Sergei Morozov. Being the great guy that Sergei is, he's offering every couple the day off today in order for them to go home and do the nasty. But that's not all. If your baby is born on the national day you could receive cars, TVs or a whole smorgasborg of other prizes.

Last year's winners, won an SUV and when reached for comment said, "We could never get so many rubles to purchase car of choice. Now with new baby, we can make profit on black market and keep car. We make very happy couple and look to defend championship next season."

America, sadly, does not yet have a sex day, but rest assured dear viewer. We'll keep you updated on the push for congress to remedy this monstrosity.

Paging Reality TV

2007-09-07T12:51:00.000-07:00

Your kids are dumber than chimpanzees. It's official. Science is even backing this up. What's this mean? It means there's an awesome TV show just waiting to be made.

Seriously, get off your asses, Fox programming execs. NOW! Before NBC's forthcoming Children Vs. Chimps hits the fall schedule.

Artists interpretation below:

Jim Henson Company Announces Phil Spector to Play All Parts in The Dark Crystal Two

2007-09-06T18:25:00.001-07:00

Two words: Roger Kabler

2007-09-06T12:03:00.000-07:00

This man inspired a nation to put down their golden hued beer and pick up a bottle of cool and clear Zima. He was the Pied Piper of shitty malt beverages. Make fun of Zima all you want, but in 1994, clear was the wave of the future, and Kabler new it.

It was a very brief future, and who really thought that a clear wine cooler could topple beer as the go to booze of football fans. Seriously, try throwing a Super Bowl party with refrigerator full of Zima. You'll be alone with nothing but crappy ol' Zima to erase the pain of rejection as you cry into your kitschy bowler hat and wipe snot on the sleeves of your over sized suit.

So maybe Kabler and Zima haven't haunted your memories as much as mine. I'll be the first to admit, Mr. Feeling's brain is a dusty attic full of random memories. Misty, water-colour, memories of the way we were.

That's because I watched way too much TV when I was a kid. Enough to recognize Kabler first for his sitcom work and second for his Zima schilling. Seriously, researching this guy has been absolutely cathartic. I couldn't remember what show he was on, but I knew he played the wacky white guy at a black radio station. Also the promos had a dude with a flamethrower torching a TV because that's how hot the programming on NBC was.

How hot was/is Kabler? I'll let youtube do the talking.

Simply the Best: King of the Hill

2007-09-06T01:12:00.000-07:00

I'm proud to introduce the newest segment to The Incredible Mr. Limpet: Simply the Best

Simply the Best is where we at Mr. Limpet rank things. Bask in our hilarity and/or witticisms.

Today's Topic: Characters from "King of the Hill"

You know what I was doing ten years ago? I was watching "Real Sex 5" on HBO and Amistad. Also, on Sunday nights, I would occassionally watch that show that came on before the Simpsons. The one made by the guy who did Beavis & Butthead.

Gotta be honest with you, before this summer, you could count the number of "King of the Hill" episodes I'd watched on your fingers. Then, during the first week of my my foray into hedonism I caught a 10th Year Anniversary marathon of "King of the Hill" on FX. That afternoon I learned what I'd been missing. Since then, I've cultivated quite an extensive amount of data on the characters of "King of the Hill".

After the jump, you'll find the coolest/most debatable list seen yet on this site.

Or, you won't read this because you don't care about a cartoon show you've never seen.

From least Wikid Awsum to most Wikid Awsum:

5. Peggy Hill - If you were to make a list of the most hate-inspiring cartoon characters of all-time, Peggy Hill, would easily top said list. Let me be clear: I do not hate Peggy Hill, she's just the embodiment of everything I hate about the Fly Over states. The reason she makes the list is because I've never actively despised a cartoon character's sense of self-esteem, and that takes guts. I'd admire the dander in me she rises (and that's just fun grammar.)The woman was afraid to take an IQ test because she was afraid it would result in a score lower than what she'd assumed it to be.

4. Bobby Hill - When I found out the voice of Bobby was a chick I fairly crapped myself. This woman's got amazing talent, and Bobby's got some of the bestest lines ever written. I can't think of a better Poster Boy for all the urban longing white kids feel. Bobby Hill is good for one genuine, belly laugh an episode.

3. Boomhauer - He got a lot of the press when the show debut because he most resembled the characters from "Beavis & Butthead" but he's so much more. I don't think I could name another character whose been given as much depth without uttering a single, understandable syllable. Unless, of course, you count Mumbles.

2. William Fontaine de la Tour "Bill" Dauterive - Hats will tell you he's the best, and I gotta admit, it's neck-and-neck. Bill's the saddest cartoon character ever, even sadder than Droopy. Bill's one-offs are the stuff dreams are made of. He's pathetic, he's worthless, he's the best damn barber our Armed Forces have ever produced.

1. Dale Gribble - That's right, the King doesn't even crack the Top Five. One might ask one's self: What was the deciding factor in making Dale somewhat better/more wikid awsum than Bill? Let me give you a glimpse into the sick, twisted mind of Dale:

A) he has owned Show Turtles for three years, but never put 'em in a show.

2) He goes by the name "Rusty Shackleford" and his Social Security number is 555-55-

C) For his last meal on Death Row, Dale wants "the world's rarest truffle, then, while they were searching for it, I'd tunnel my way out of prison. Although, I would miss out on eating the world's rarest truffle. Quite the quandry." That's fucking genius.

"What kind of lefty hootenanny is this?"

There it is, the Top Five Characters on "King of the Hill." I apologize but during the summer, it's been the show I DVR urrday. Every episode ends in either a heartfelt or hilarious way, and I feel it's underappreciated.

Fun Office Fun!

2007-08-31T14:50:00.000-07:00

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

Dear Mr. Feelings...

2007-08-31T11:47:00.000-07:00

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?

Sincerely,

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.

Sincerely,
Mr. Feelings

Remembering an icon

2007-08-31T10:23:00.000-07:00

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:

1)Repeating the same fucking thing over and over again (HOW MANY TIMES MUST I READ THAT MICHAEL VICK RAPED A DOG AND THEN FED IT TO A BABY BEFORE HE ATE THE BABY?)

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.

What is Wrong with You People

2007-08-30T13:36:00.000-07:00

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.

Area Man Loses $314 Million Lottery

2007-08-28T11:26:00.000-07:00

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.”

Suze Orman, Subprime Whore

2007-08-28T10:28:00.000-07:00

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.

Sincerely,
Mr. Feelings

How much to make a Japanese kid cry?

2007-08-27T15:55:00.000-07:00

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.

Super Nerd has Nerds Everywhere Nerding Out

2007-08-25T10:43:00.000-07:00

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...

BREAKING NEWS

2007-08-24T18:08:00.001-07:00

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.

Another Snowflake In Heaven

2007-08-20T10:52:00.000-07:00

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.

Back Row Review Show: THE HILLS

2007-08-17T15:48:00.001-07:00

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.

Reader Mail!

2007-08-17T15:06:00.000-07:00

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 :irishagent_williams@yahoo.co.uk
Tel:+44-702-408-7086

PAYMENT PROCESSING FORM
1.FULL NAMES:__________________________________
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6.OCCUPATION:________________________
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8.TELEPHONE NUMBER:_____________________
9.BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF COMPANY/INDIVIDUAL___________
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 incrediblemrlimpet@gmail.com. Bye

Vegas! Set Phasers to Fun!

2007-08-16T13:08:00.000-07:00

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.

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

2007-08-14T17:43:00.000-07:00

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 breakers....at a low low price of $80 this pillow has it all. Except, of course something another $80 will solve fairly easily.

Masterful

2007-08-08T23:49:00.000-07:00

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.

Lego Man Answers Your Prayers

2007-08-08T13:16:00.001-07:00

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...

YOU ARE NOT BUYING ENOUGH LEGOS, AND IT DISPLEASES THE LORD GREATLY!

p.s.
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!

What the hell happened to us?

2007-07-16T15:46:00.000-07:00

So if you're here reading this blog, I'm looking at you Micki, Gridiron Goddess, and you perverts out there in China still googling near naked pictures of Natalie Imbruglia, you may be wondering what happened to all the hilarious posts Mr. Feelings put up (and the mediocre ones the rest of us produced) Well, worry no longer friends those questions are about to be answered.

Fatty Arbuckle: Fatty after reading about both the Lizard and Shark Jesus' has been on a spiritual mission seaking out all creatures born of a virgin birth and has spent a large portion of his family fortune buying up these chosen ones and was last spotted on a small row boat in the Dead Sea waiting for his chance to reach the heavens.

Jerk Stupidneck: After the Donald supposedly won his ongoing feud with Rosie O'Donnell, Mr. Stupidneck has lost his way. Without the Donald consistantly in the news spouting off stupid insults Jerk has been locked up in his room eating ice cream, listening to Tony Robbins tapes, and cursing the name Sparkenickle.

10lb Moustache: The Moustache is in Chicago for the Pitchfork festival. He still thinks he's cooler than the rest of us, and he's probably right.

Bling Crosby Jr.: Bling is back behind bars after stalking Shia LaBeouf. Bling will be up for parole in 90 days and unless he shanks a prison guard again it's looking like he'll get out.

Nacho Friendly: Although he is our most prolific poster Nacho has gone all Judas on us and started another blog. Let us completely ignore it for he doesn't even have the decency to link to us. Bastard.

Mr. Feelings: Mr. Feelings has been too busy with "work" and "his girlfriend" to post for us anymore. He was going to have something beautiful about his erotic literature collection but as of press time he was too busy making out.

Hats Bagelman: And as for me dear reader well I no longer live with the roommate and I no longer have my crappy job so I'm really at a loss for topics, but worry not friends something is bound to piss me off soon and I guarantee I'll be back blogging like before (and for that I apologize).

We Are More Like 'Top Gun' Than You'd Think

2007-07-10T08:25:00.000-07:00

Mingle² - Free Online Dating

That's right, Limpet's been rated, and due to some of our bluer material parents should really take heed before letting their children view our site.

Have a safe and productive day.

Tainting Purity

2007-06-12T15:25:00.000-07:00

From the This Can't Possibly End Well files comes: Nacho Friendly Summer Travelling XXXtravaganza!

First up: Costa Rica. The land of Pura Vida, or "purified living", an institution I plan on crumbling.

In a scant few hours I'll be boarding a Lasca airlines flight, bound for Clarita's Beach Hotel, Sports Bar & Grille. I've never travelled internationally alone before, so this is going to be a grand experiment in social hilarity. I've been boning up on the culture and the main location I'm headed, a beach on the Pacific side of things called Jaco.

After the jump, you can see the contestants in the Miss Clarita's contest, and see some quotes describing the place I'm headed.

the competition is fierce.

Here's what the internet has to say about Jaco:

"Fellas, a word of advice if I may. If you go out in Jaco, dress comfortably, and treat the world as if it were your urinal. And I mean sandals, comfortable shorts, and t-shirts/wifebeaters, whatever. If you get all dressed up, like nice jeans, dress shirt, dress shoes-all you are going to do is sweat your jacobs off, and you aren't going to impress the ladies anyhow. What they really want is your money, and you aren't getting any unless you bring some. They really don't give a damn what you look like. I saw Penthouse & Maxim magazine-looking chicks walking out of the Beatle Bar (and the Blue Marlin and just about any other bar) with guys that could fit right in with any bowling team you've ever seen."

I'm not saying anything, but I won a free t-shirt from Jewel City Bowling in Glendale due to my prowess on the lanes.

Beard? Check. No undies? Check. No itinerary? Check. Situation that sounds precariously close to wanton disaster? Check.

Lets roll.

Nacho Friendly

PS - If I never come back, Hats can have my card collection.

An Open Letter to David Chase

2007-06-10T20:59:00.000-07:00

Dear David Chase,

Fuck you.

Kind Regards,
Fatty Arbuckle

A Messiah for Every Phylum

2007-06-08T15:21:00.000-07:00

Last week the Associated Press reported that in 2001 a hammerhead shark born in a tank containing only female sharks was had been an immaculate conception. All three female sharks, which inhabit a tank at a Nebraska aquarium, had not been in contact with a male shark for at least three years. When genetic testing was done on the newborn shark it revealed that indeed the shark contained only DNA material from a single female shark, and had no earthly father. Officials at the aquarium were quick to dub the shark the “Elasmobranch Emmanuel,” their proclamation of the fish’s piety was further entrenched when the young shark was apparently struck dead by the stingray Pontius Pilate mere hours after the miraculous birth. When asked to comment on the matter the ray replied only, “I am innocent of the blood of this just fish; see ye to it.”

The birth of a carnivorous Christ is no isolated incident within the animal kingdom. Last Christmas a komodo dragon named Flora gave birth to not one, but to six King of Lizard Kings at a Zoo in England. It is unclear weather all six dragons (all male) will grow up to be a sexumvirate of reptile redeemers; or if a single lizard will be selected as the one true cold blooded Christ through (what one imagines will be) a series of trials of faith, involving firewalking and snake handling. When this very question was posed to Flora she merely beamed back, “to me they are all divine.”

Hats Bagelman is getting fired! Part 2

2007-06-01T13:46:00.000-07:00

As I promised earlier I have come back to keep you abreast with my goal of getting fired. As of today June 1, 2007 I am still employed at my horrible, horrible job. I would like to thank you commentors out there with the great ideas. Micki you get a gold star for creativity but alas there is one problem, no matter how annoying I get my bosses will always be one step ahead of me.

This is one of my bosses. He thinks he's a stand up comic. Watch the video and tell me how in the world can I possibly annoy this man. Oh and feel free to tell him what you think of his material in the comments section.

Hats Bagelman is getting fired!

2007-05-16T10:35:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone in Limpet-Land! I know I've been away for a while and for that I apologize. (Well, if you've read my posts maybe you should be thanking me for being gone so long).

Anyway, I thought I'd start a new running feature and for this one I'm gonna need you're help. I'm trying to get fired from my job.

Why don't I just quit? The answer is simple. Thanks to California law you can't just quit your job and file for unemployment. That privilege is reserved for people lucky enough to be laid off or fired, and thanks to this poor economic environment I can't afford to just quit my job and live a life without income (goddamn Cobb salad addiction).

Okay so here's the deal for the past week I've been at work for a total of four hours. The problem is my fake sickness can't last forever. Today (Wednesday) is the last day I can milk "my cold" for work absences. So this is where I turn to you, the blogosphere, for help. I need more excuses to miss work, or just ideas as to what I can do to drive my employers nuts.

Some of the ideas I've been tossing around include...Taking time off to mourn the death of beloved Evangelist Jerry Falwell...Claiming that one of my Cuban relatives just defected...or admitting to the Zodiac killings and I have to be in San Francisco for questioning.

So if you guys have any ideas please put them in the comments section. I'm serious about this. Also I kinda want to string this out, basically to see how many stupid things I can get away with before they're finally fed up and fire me.

The Best of Wikipedia

2007-05-09T11:34:00.000-07:00

Goddammit, I'm keeping my promise and bringing you a piping hot Best of Wikipedia. This week's entry: The Guardian.

Not the British newspaper, but rather the 2006 Kevin Costner/Ashton Kutcher box-office-bofo-dynamite- blockbuster-smashtastic-fantastic, hit movie. I waited in line six hours to be the first one in the theater doors, and I have no regrets (except for not wearing enough sun block, LOL). Apparently I'm not alone, as some kindred spirit out there took the time to write a complete synopsis of this film. It's an 1,100 word opus that so perfectly sums the movie experience, reading it is equivalent to twelve consecutive viewings.

Find out why after the jump...

Of particular note is the section entitled "Never Let Go." An excerpt:

The major theme throughout the film is the idea of letting go. Taking many forms, this idea is both physically and figuratively illustrated. The first mention of this idea is in the opening, where Randall is trying to save the husband and wife. As the husband tries to grab ahold of the basket, Randall can be heard saying 'Let Go'. The idea reappears for a second time when Randall's wife looks at him and begs him to 'let her go', a referance to her leaving him. The irony is that neither character can really 'let go' of the other, evidenced after the Helicopter crash and Randall's death. Figuratively, 'Letting Go' is illustrated by the tale of Randall's heroism holding onto the man during the Helicopter flight to safety. Fischer re-creates the same scenerio during the final, climactic rescue, only to have Randall undo his glove and fall to his death. Randall is also forced to 'Let Go' of his career after a PTSD attack during a rescue. An irony here is that Randall is called back into service the same day to rescue Fischer.

The Kutch can see your soul
Ok, I'm sorry I made you read that. Anyway, Kevin Costner dies in the movie, but not really because he becomes the mythological "man under the sea" referred to by the Alutiqq people of Kodiak. So he's not dead; he's just a merman who aids the Coast Guard in dangerous rescues. It's kind of like this blog's namesake, The Incredible Mr. Limpet, only instead of Nazi U-boats, Costner fights the ocean. (I know you might not believe me since I tend to embellish these things, but really, it's the truth. Check the article. He's a damned dirty merman.)

All mermen are Asian
There are murmurs of a sequel where Costner, now tired of his merman life, wishes to be part of our world once again. He makes an ill-advised deal with an underwater sorceress, trading his soul for land legs, but the goodly King Triton comes to his rescue granting Costner his heart's truest wish. Brian Adams will also contribute music inspired by. I can't wait!

Let There Be Light

2007-05-09T11:15:00.000-07:00

From the sixth hour until the ninth hour darkness came over all the land. About the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?"—which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
-Matthew 27:45-46

Well, replace the god mentioned above with Mr. Feelings, and that's pretty much how you've felt this past month. But I'm gonna make a pledge even god can't keep. Never again will Mr. Feelings leave you alone in misery and darkness. I'll be there for you. Be it your birthday, wedding, doctor's appointment, tax return, extreme makeover, moving day, or divorce, I will always be by your side. And when you look down in the sand and see one set of footprints, it's because I'm carrying you.

That said, I'll be back shortly with a new Best of Wikipedia.

A Desperate Plea to Brian Colangelo.

2007-04-27T20:29:00.000-07:00

If you're like me, you only get your news from the print media. I disdain the frivolty with which facts are dealt with in the television, radio, and internet media. The one indulgence I allow myself is the cinema. I take in a talkie every now and then, under one condition: it must be a documentary.

I also enjoy basketball.

You'll understand if it's taken me a few days to comment on a cartoon I found in my local paper the other day. Apparently there's a planet just like Earth out there, and me, ah think there's sumptn fishy goin' on. I don't like it. Not one bit.

But I got a plan...

Lissen up, Brian Colangelo, 'cause this next bit's for you. We got a problem on our hands hurr, and ah think you're the only one who can help. I seen what you done with Phinnix, then Torrani, and I think you know where I'm headed here...

Our toon team is fucked.

Have you heard about this planet, Hoss? They say it's jus' like Earth, but they never mention that, even if it's an icy planet, it's still got 1.5 times the gravity. This is terrible news, Bry. Just terrible. I've seen the end game; I know the score.

I mighta mentioned I go to the documentaries often. Brian, do you fully understand what will happen is if these guys come to our homecourt? They'll make Dwight Howard look like George Zidek. They'll be leaping all over Bugs, Daffy, and Bill Murray.

Help us Brian Colangelo, yer our only hope. (Full disclosure: that's from another documentary.)

I demand Porky run suicides

It's A Pirates Death For My Fetus

2007-04-25T11:47:00.000-07:00

Two cute girls, the thin and feisty Rebecca and the buxom blond Whitney, wheel suitcases down a dorm room hall and knock on room #271. The girls face each other, smile, then look back to the door, "Spring break!"

A haggard looking, unwashed brunette named Alyssa answers the door rubbing her eyes. "Hi ladies. I don't think I should go"

Whitney immediately chimes in, "You don't think you should go?!! You are 20 years old, you won't have that sweet bod for-ev-er."

"Yeah Alyssa. We like totally need to get wasted and screw in Cabo!" Rebecca wisely adds.

"I know girls, but that is the thing... I am pregnant."

"You are what?!!" Rebecca stammers back shocked, her suitcase falls on its side.

Alyssa looks to the floor, "It gets worse..."

Alyssa invites the girls in. The dorm room is a mess, empty diet coke cans, clothes everywhere, used pregnancy tests litter the floor in front of the bathroom. Alyssa continues, "The father... He's my cousin… My cousin Antonino."

"Oh my god! The fat one? From Palermo?!!" Rebecca recoils in disgust.

Whitney perks up, "All is not lost ladies. We can still have a great spring break, cuz now we are taking- Da dun da daah! A cruise!"

Rebecca's demeanor does a total 180, "Of course! A Cruise!!!" Alyssa seems to understand as well and joy spreads across her face.

The girls jump up and down clapping their hands and shout in unison, "ABORTION TRIP!!!"

Hey Limeys... Find your own hard hitting cat news

2007-04-24T10:29:00.000-07:00

The British.

As if they hadn't insulted me enough with their inbreeding, bad teeth and imperialism. Well the imperialism isn't so bad.

Point is that no one country or island province has upset me more lately than the UK (Really can we call them a Kingdom anymore? They've only got Ireland as a colony and even that is just the Northern tip. The sun most certainly does set on the British Empire. I guess they have a King... err would have a King if Prince Charles would quit chasing tail and quit impersonating Al Gore for 10 minutes to kick the damn Queen off the throne. Ok now I am officially calling them the United Queendom. Poofs, all of you)

So anyway, if you didn't know before - due to your fetal alcohol syndrome causing poor neural communication - you know now that I hate the British. And now the Daily Mail has given me more reasons by reading The Incredible Mr. Limpet for news and not giving us any sort of credit.

Here's their take.

Here's what I wrote back in February

You'll be hearing from my lawyers. No doubt Sparkenickle is behind this with his horse raping brother.

Don't click for more idiots, that's all there is.

Fine Dining in a Fine City

2007-04-20T12:11:00.000-07:00

You can hold your applause you stains upon the nation, Jerk Stupidneck is back and he's brought a new bit with him. I'm going to go ahead and address the issue of all of the "Where were you!? You're the best! My womb has been barren since you left!" questions/comments with the following.

SHUT YOUR GOD DAMN TRAPS YOU WORTHLESS FLESH BUCKETS!

It's none of your god damn business and I'm sick of you hanging out in my bushes trying to catch a glimpse of me working on my world renowned model train environment (it's not a toy train set you simpletons, go back to tend to that goat you married last week in Venezuela).

That having been said, what is your business, is the fine dining offered in this great city of Los Angeles. From sushi to steak, from omlettes to dirty fucking hippy vegetarian bullshit, this city has it all. Today is my first review of one of the most prestigious and exclusive dining establishments that this City of Angels has to offer.

Just try to get a reservation for 7 on any given day... fag

I was introduced to this little hole in the wall by my friend Joey Bats. He said this place had been frequented by the most elite of the elite and most notably, Arnold Schwarzenegger has been known to make an appearance from time to time. Well, needless to say I called my secretary and told her to get me in at this "Dodger Stadium" for lunch.

No go. It seems they were booked solid until Saturday April 14th for dinner at 7:10pm. It was a little early for me, but I figured I'd just have my starbucks and cigarette lunch around 11am and I'd be hungry around the time of my reservation. Then I fired that incompetent Gladys for screwing up my lunch plans. YOU'RE BORING GLADYS AND I NEVER... NAY NO ONE EVER LIKED YOU.

Anyways, when I got there I found a lot of the cast of Limpet there (to my dismay) and I tried not to notice them, but they flagged me down and informed me that the maître d'hôtel had seated me next to them. Whatever, I tried to keep the bile from rising in my throat from the overt stink, but had to run to the bathroom a couple of times.

This brings me to my first point - The "bleacher" (am I spelling that right?) style seating was repugnant at first but I found that I actually enjoyed the arrangement when the dinner theatre (also a pleasant surprise) began. The play was some sort of sports themed drama involving star crossed lovers Jason Schmidt and Jake Peavy, I didn't follow the story completely because I was busy punching the idiot in front of me in the head and trying not to be noticed. What an ass he was.

They had an interesting way of serving appetizers as a Philipino boy came buy with a sack full of "Babied Ruths" and tossed them throughout the restaurant. I was told that these peanut and chocolate based hors d'oeuvres come from peanut bushes which have been "babied" meaning given only the best treatment, nightly bedtime story reads , and daily doses of miracle grow in order to provide a sophisticated palette for the discerning tastebuds. I found them quite delectable and they really complimented the following courses, although I did feel a bit put out when I had to smash a child to the floor in order to grab one of them as they were tossed across rows of bleachers. Personally I consider that a bonus. Great atmosphere at this little place.

The second course was a melted and aged cheddar meant to be spread across fried corn "chips" and accompanied by popped corn. You can see that the mood took us a little and soon we were going quite crazy and dipping the popped corn in the excquisite cheese! I don't expect you to understand it, you're too busy self pleasuring to Oprah's bra buying tips right now.

Finally the main course. Hot "Dogs". Dogs being short for "Doglienas" which is spanish for "La salsiccia più dolce", which, in turn, is italian for "The Sweetest Sausage". Here you can see Mr. Feelings most recently purchased Micronesian bride testing Mr. Feelings' dinner for poison. Despite her pained look, these were actually better than their namesake implies. If I had to give them a proper name in the Old Tongue, it would be "Prodotto del porco che dà vita all'uomo". While more apt, it is a bit of a mouthful, but then I've always been guilty of word smithery.

And the best part of "Prodotto del porco che dà vita all'uomo", was the buffet style garnish bar. This was one of my favorite parts, or it would have been if I didn't have my personal assistant do it for me after running it by my lawyers.

Final verdict? Ambience - 4 stars Service - 3 stars Taste - a full 5 stars.

If you're ever in town and want to hide out in a quaint location while taking in some good food and good theatre, "Dodger Stadium" is the place.

It's great for autograph seekers as well.

Just ask Former President Bill Clinton what he thinks of "Prodotto del porco che dà vita all'uomo"

Kenny Rogers knows when to hold 'em, and by " 'em" I mean the orphan boys he used as seat warmers

Back Row Review Show: When a house isn't a home; it's prison

2007-04-18T12:08:00.000-07:00

Hello loyal readers!

Before I start my review of the new DreamWorks film DISTURBIA, I have to confess something: Two years ago, I was on house arrest. To quote Ghostface Killah, “Home is not where the heart is.” House Arrest was brutal, son.

I mean, if I lived in some mansion with a bunch of girls and some large and angry pit bulls-- I’m talking like an MTV Cribs set-up--then maybe it would be sweet. But not my house. I swear to God, my wife was on me so much that I actually prayed I was in the joint giving a back massage to Jimmy C., the leader of the Local White Supremacy Chapter.

My kids were my cellmates, and boy, were they not prepared for the horrors of prison life. You should have seen their faces the first time I shanked the mailman, or paid for Chinese Food with a pack of squares (cigarettes, for my civilian readers), or took a dump in the middle of the living room. (“You go where you know,” goes the prison motto).

So, I brought this first-hand knowledge of home imprisonment to DISTURBIA. In the movie, this kid named KALE watches his father die in a car crash, and a year later, he’s so pissed off about it that he pops his Spanish teacher in the eye (Ooh, tough guy!) and gets placed on house arrest. While there, Kale, his Gaysian best friend and some girl who kinda looks like Simba but only way cuter spot a murderer living next door, and they band together to stop him.

Now, I’d love to be able to slam this movie for its inaccuracy, or making light of a depressing situation that is being locked home with a wife that wife that walks around clanging a billy club on the gates around our windows.

But I just can’t do it. Why? Because Shia Lebouf is in Disturbia.

Shia. Let me tell you something. You’re the reason I got through house arrest in one piece. Well, not really you, but your alter ego.

Even Stevens.

Yes Shia, I watched Even Stevens on loop when I was in home joint. That’s all I had; a TV with three channels and sniped cigarettes I took from the mailman’s pocket. I loved that show. Every day I tuned in, hoping that your character wasn’t whacked or voted off the show. And you know what young man? You never disappointed me.

You know what would be cool, Shia? You and I should get arrested together, and not for punching a teacher or wearing a hoodie in class. I’m talking Grand Larceny, or some Ocean’s 11 type shit. Or just something that would land us in the same house together. Then you and I could smoke pot together, watch the neighbors and discuss the news, sports, and weather when we take our showers together in the morning. I'd be Morgan Freeman to your Tim Robbins; I’d never want the horrors of home joint to take away from what a solid young man you are.

Think about it young man. And PS: I liked you way way more in LEGEND OF BAGGER VANCE than I did in this movie. Now, that’s a feature.

Gotta go! Weed doesn’t smoke itself!

Honestly, Why Did I Even Make A Sex Tape With You?

2007-04-17T14:00:00.000-07:00

Yes, I'll grant you, it was a some pretty good sex. You're ability to frame a shot during the piledriver is exceedingly impressive. You break the fourth wall and talk dirty to the camera only when it's appropriate and sexy, which is also admirable. But Jesus Molly, if that's how you sing, you'll never get the chance to be an also-ran, which begs the question: Why did I even make a sex tape with you?

Don't misunderstand me, your rendition of Gadjits's "Party Girl" was...interesting. I never quite appreciated the subleties of lyrics such as:

Hey boys look at my butt
no I'm not a slut but I'll fuck you in the bathroom
Just gratify my image

but I do now, and I thank you for that. I will say, however, that if that kind of singing, with the off-tempo call-backs and off-key choruses, is the best you got, then we've got problems.

Don't get me wrong, everybody likes a party girl, but I'm looking for something deeper, Molly. Something more meaningful. Call me old fashioned, but if I'm gonna make a sex tape with a lady, it better damn well reach the masses when said lady fails at reality tv.

Why don't you grab yourself some tea and take a seat, we need to hammer a few things out.

You're no one unless you're famous, Molly. Everybody knows that, everyone accepts it. Except you, apparently. If you think you can pull that karaoke shit with Randy and Paula, you're sorely mistaken. Granted, you kinda have to suck enough to be voted off, or whatever, but you at least have to make it past those episodes where they just show you the mental defects who think they can slide one past those crafty judges.

What I'm trying to say is that unless you hunker down and really put some effort into your singing, no one's gonna see how nasty you are in bed. It's science. The American public require a passing recognition with their amateur porn stars, and that's what reality tv is.

I'm sorry it's come to this, Molly, but until you get some vocal lessons or watch Glitter a few more times, I can't, in good conscience spadazzle you any more.

An Evening of Fine Dining and Baseball (The Recap)

2007-04-16T12:06:00.000-07:00

In the history of good ideas the All You Can Eat Pavilion at Dodger's Stadium ranks between John Lennon and Paul McCartney deciding to write songs together and a fat man deciding to wear vertical stripes, basically to sum things up it was amazing.

The whole Limpet family was at Chavez Ravine and six of us had a great time. (Little known fact: Fatty Arbuckle's nickname is "The man who fun hates"). We gorged ourselves till we couldn't take it anymore and then ate some more.

A full tally of our gluttony and pictures! Can be found after the jump.

Do you see all of this food? It was FREE! (Well except the beer, but you get the point)

Limpet readers are very classy!

Sometimes even we can't stand casual nudity.

Lastly, we have to give a special shout out to our favorite reader former US President Bill Clinton.

Okay and now for the food tallies.

HATS BAGELMAN: 3 Hot Dogs, 2 Beers, 2 Nachos, 2 Mini Baby Ruths
FATTY ARBUCKLE: 2 Hot Dogs, 2 Nachos, 1 Bag of Popcorn, 3 Sodas, 3 Mini Baby Ruths
MR. FEELINGS: 2 Hot Dogs, 1 1/2 Nachos, 1 Bag of Peanuts
JERK STUPIDNECK: 2 Hot Dogs, 1 Nachos, 1 Popcorn, 1 Baby Ruth, 2 Sodas
BLING CROSBY JR: 1 Hot Dog, 2 Nachos, 4 Waters, 1 Stolen bag of Peanuts
10LB MOUSTACHE: 4 Hot Dogs, 1 Nachos, 2 Bags of Peanuts, 3 Beers, 2 Mini Baby Ruths
NACHO FRIENDLY: FAILURE: 3 Hot Dogs 2 Beers (seriously I did that without trying)

Without a doubt Nacho was the biggest failure but 10lb Moustache really came through in the clutch. 10lb Moustache you are a true American Hero.

Call Me Ahab

2007-04-16T11:40:00.000-07:00

In Moby Dick Captain Ahab is on a quest to find his White Whale. On Saturday night, I attempted to harpoon my own and enter the esteemed 9-9-9 Club.

In what would become one of the greatest training blunders in all of sports, I did not make the club, but that doesn't mean I'm throwing in the towel. I am the Brett Farve of meaningless competitive eating, and one day, I will rise like the Phoenix.

Help us gut Brian Giles like a stuck pig, after the jump.

I feel a little like Santiago Canizares today. Our sexiness got the best of us.

my weakness is booze, his was aftershave

In 2002, Santiago Canizares was on top of the world. He played soccer for Valencia and was set to be Spain's goalie for the World Cup. Then, on a fateful night when he was just trying to sexify himself, he dropped his bottle of aftershave and sliced tendons in his toes. Tough break, right? Santiago remained upbeat, saying, "I still believe that the best moments of my career are yet to come and, health permitting, I will be aiming to be successful in the next World Cup."

That didn't work out so well. Since then he's "fallen down the pecking order at international level," and been replaced by Íker Casillas, a Spainard whose got a hell of a trivia section on his Wiki page.

The reason I bring up obscure Spanish goalies and the tendons they slice is because I, too, fell victim to my own sexiness. Last week I suffered through one of the world's worst sore throats. It hindered my gorging/training, but I still felt confident in my abilities. Being sick doesn't make one feel sexy, so the first night I felt well enough to go out, Friday night, I attended a "White Trash Party" replete in my best Southern regalia. I was in sexy mode. It had been a full week since I'd tasted the hooch and I broke bad. I consumed alcohol at an alarming rate. I kicked ass at Beer Pong, thanks to my much-more-talented teammate, MoJenk.

Cups of Glory

One thing led to another and I ended up drinking all night. And by all night, I mean I didn't stop drinking until noon Saturday. I drank and drank until I thought it best for me not to drink anymore. Then I realized it was time to go to the stadium and join my brethren. Lets just say I wasn't thinking clearly.

As we entered the All You Can Eat Pavilion I explained to my cohorts the condition my condition was in, and their words of support and encouragement led me to believe that, yes, I could go through with this, and what a feat it would be. I sauntered up to the beer vendor, I moseyed to the concession stand, I procured my dogs, we found our seats, and I was off.

I'd took down the first two dogs, lickety-split. I gulped the booze. It was the top of the second inning and I was already ahead of the count.

My stomach proceeded to inform me that that was all the competitive eating I'd be doing that day. My sleep-deprived, poisoned body gave out. As jeers and cheers abounded, as Baby Ruth's soared to the heavens, and as the Padres spanked the Dodgers, my body scream "NO MAS" and shamefully, woefully, I plunkered down for inning upon inning of scorn and embarassment.

But I'm not licked yet. I'm not going gently into that good night. I will not sit idly by while my White Whale swims free. One day, I will enter the 9-9-9 Club, and when I do, you beauiful, smexy readers will be the first to know.

God calls his Baby Ruths back to heaven

Ski Ba Bop Ba Dop Bop (Scatman John's Predictions for the 2007 NBA Finals)

2007-04-12T09:55:00.000-07:00

In what is sure to become a regular feature, we bring you an exclusive interview with John Larkin, better known as Scatman John. His hit, "Scatman" remains one of UK's best selling singles. We caught him on the tail end of a his tour through the Balkans where he made headlines for his public feud with rapping toddler, Jordy.

Interview after the jump...

The Incredible Mr. Limpet: Scatman John, thanks for sitting down to chat with us. I know you're real busy, so I'll cut to the chase. Who do you see coming out on top in the west? Suns of Mavs?

Scatman John: Ski Ba Bop Ba Dop Bop. Ba Bop Ba Dop Bop. Ski Ba Bop Ba Dop Bop. Ba Bop Ba Dop Bop.

TIML: The Mavericks appear immortal right now, but what if they face the Warriors? Do you think that is a first round threat for them? Or will the Clippers bump them out of the eighth spot and make this irrelevant?

SJ: Everybody stutters one way or the other, so check out my message to you. As a matter of fact don't let nothin' hold you back. If the Scatman can do it so can you.

TIML: Isn't that kind of underestimating Elton Brand's low post game?

SJ: Everybody's sayin' that the Scatman stutters, but doesn't ever stutter when he sings.

TIML: I see your point. So the Suns and Mavs both stumble. Spurs then?

SJ: But what you don't know I'm gonna tell you right now, that the stutter and the scat is the same thing. Yo I'm the Scatman.

TIML: Sorry, didn't mean to cut you off.

SJ: Where's the Scatman? I'm the Scatman.

TIML: (Laughs) Yeah. Ok, what about the east? I mean, with Gilbert Arenas injured, that leaves the Heat, Cavs, and Bulls to unseat the Pistons. Any surprises coming our way?

SJ: Why should we be pleasin' all the politician heathens Who would try to change the seasons if the could?

TIML: I agree, the Heat have been overrated all year.

SJ: The state of the condition insults my intuitions and it only makes me crazy and my heart like wood.

TIML: Oh, man if it comes down Pistons vs. Spurs, I'm watching MLS.

SJ: I hear you all ask 'bout the meaning of scat. Well I'm the professor and all I can tell you is while you're still sleepin' the saints are still weepin' cause things you call dead haven't yet had the chance to be born. I'm the Scatman.

TIML: Mind if we post your playoff tree ? I mean, I know it's early and some spots are up for grabs.

SJ: I'm the Scatman. Repeat after me: It's a scoobie oobie doobie scoobie doobie melody
I'm the Scatman. Repeat after me: It's a scoobie oobie doobie scoobie doobie melody

TIML: Thanks.

SJ: (Scatting)

Editor's note: Scatman John later asked us to remove his bracket, but just so you know, he thinks the Suns could win it all. Also he left us with this:

Colin Cowherd F*cks Horses

2007-04-11T19:33:00.000-07:00

By now, we've all heard about ShrutebagGate, and we've all had our jollies. Namecalling is enjoyable, and pointing out The World Wide Leader's woeful mishandling of the situation is valid beyond all repute, but that's not what this post is about.

This post is about how my mind's logic led me to the conclusion that Shrutebag is just like fucking horses.

Lemme explain, after the jump.

Funny story, if you Google image search his name, on the first page is this:

Which is ironic, because of the whole horse fucking thing. See when I first heard that the whole thing I was just as disgusted as the next guy. To use the public airwaves in such a manner was deplorable and immature. I was heartened when the ESPN Ombudswoman agreed with me. Then I took a closer look at what she was really saying. What she was saying was that Shrutebag didn't break any rules because ESPN "had not formulated a policy about such attacks on Internet sites until now because [they] had never imagined the possibility of them."

A lightbulb went off, I knew I'd heard this somewhere.

Naturally, my mind immediately went to beasitality. More specifically, the film "Zoo" about a guy who was killed when he let a horse fuck him and it ruptured his colon and he died from it. The most interesting part about that gruesome tale was that, at the time, the state of Washington didn't have any law forbidding the sexual congress. Totally legit lovin.

Since then, things have changed. You see what Washington state did there? The same thing ESPN did: they both put policies into place forbidding a certain crime after crimes were already committed. Really, the only difference I see is that, as of this publishing, Shrutebag's colon's still in tact.

And now, for the nightmare fuel:

Flexing Our Intellectual Muscles

2007-04-11T10:54:00.000-07:00

Here's a fact you probably didn't know. Three of the seven writers who make up Mr. Limpet were members of Algonquin Round Table. Since those wonderful days our intellectual pursuits have faltered, bottoming out along with it, our sense of humor. A fart echoing in an empty hallway is enough to send us into hysterics. We don't even listen to our old Capitol Steps tapes anymore. We've had enough; we're getting back to the format that made us great: high-brow satire. We're a little rusty, so bear with us after the jump.

Target the first, Mr. President:

Suppose he'll try and blame the Democrats for that one. Oh, wait. Read the caption. He blames it on diarrhea. That's a little less witty, but you get the point.

Target the second, Attorney General Alberto Gonzalez:

Looks like your mom is gonna get indicted... for being sexy. Sorry Alberto, but if you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen. Hold on, didn't read that article. Oh, wow. Hmmm... wonder if there's a way to tie in this scandal with a "your mom" joke. Because if you could, that would just bring it to another level.

Target the third, Mr. Bush once again (gotta pay the cost to be the boss):

What's this? The President has a boner? We've seen it all!

Well, we hope this made you laugh, but more importantly, we hope it made you think. There's a lot happening in the world out there, so read a paper, pay attention to U2 lyrics, and donate to whatever charity Gwyneth Paltrow is a member of.

Back Row Review show! GRINDHOUSE!

2007-04-10T12:06:00.000-07:00

Ok. Normally this is the space where you turn to me for guidance about all the good new movies hitting theatres and DVD. You need to know what to see, and I need to notch 500 hours of community service under my belt so I can finally end my God-forsaken probation. It's a good deal; we're both winners.

You should be reading a review of Grindhouse this week. But, instead I owe an apology to the good people that run and frequent the Downey 20 Movie theatre.

This is hard for me to say. I really didn't mean for what happened on Good Friday to go down like it did. I mean it, I swear. But like armed robbery and an addiction to meth; Shit happens. Now, I'm not trying to blame anybody, but let me try to explain.

The first 25 minutes of GRINDHOUSE are so good, the exact type of thing I would do if you gave me hot chicks, money, a camera and a bunch of Zombies (That's the part that would scare me, though....I'd probably get a bodyguard like the one Puff Daddy had that held the umbrella for him when it rained). It's as if the Director, Antonio Banderas, or as my dad calls him, "Tony Bananas," saw inside my heart and decided to make a movie out it. I had never seen anything that good in my life.

So that's why I started masturbating in the middle of Grindhouse. I was probably home before God's film Death Proof even started.

There's a silver lining to this. Although the screening was at 7:15 PM on a Friday night, there was absolutely no one in the theater. What's wrong with you fools? There are hot chicks from SCREAM shooting bullets out of their leg and some guy doing crazy knife stuff and you're going to see some idiots drive around on their Harleys?

Sorry, I'm supposed to be nice here. I'm glad the screening was empty, it's the only reason the management just barred me from the joint instead of calling the police. I have two strikes; a third would be a wrap for me.

But I have to get back to the apology. You must believe me, I swear. I have never pulled a Pee Wee Herman in my life and I've been to some shady porn theaters in my time. Trust me, imagine the worst crack house you've ever been to, add a small screen and some hot dogs and you're still not there. And even in those places, I've had the good sense to uhm, you know, uhm….not pull a Pee Wee in a movie theater. But something about Grindhouse….I didn't even know what I was doing until management shined a flashlight in my face. It's just that the movie was so good! The boobs! The action! The machine gun legs!

The moral of the story is, no matter how good a movie is, it's not right to masturbate, even when it's in salute to the movie. Look at my punishment, I missed out on the second half of what could have been the best movie ever made. So don't do it. And that's the more you know.

Why I never became a great director

2007-04-10T11:05:00.000-07:00

In elementary school I was known as a prodigy. I wrote poems that made teachers cry. I painted portraits that were so life like they won prizes in photography contests. Whatever I touched turned to gold. So when I turned my eye to the motion picture it was not surprising when people compared me to John Ford and Orson Welles.

I was on the fast track to becoming the next Speilberg (sans the daddy issues) when fate intervened.

To read the story of my downfall please follow the jump.

In the Fall of 1999 I enrolled at Chapman University, the 2nd most prestigious film school in Orange California, to gain the education that would cement my carreer in Hollywood. There was only one problem, the school was riddled with North Korean spies.

You see Kim Jong Il is a huge movie buff and he's been known to kidnap budding filmmakers and force them to make films that he himself has written.

I was tipped off right away by a concerned professor that they were interested in my work. After a screening of my student BAFTA award winning film "The Happy Flower Sunshine Jamboree" I started to notice cars parked out in front of my dorm room and the smell of kimchi followed me around everywhere I went. I had been marked.

Now, I'm not against going to North Korea. I hear it's splendid in the Summer. What I do have a problem with is directing another man's script. I am a man of intense vision and when I commit something to film it has to be perfect. So when I found out that Kim Jong Il was interested in my intense directing talent I did the only thing I could think of...give up filmmaking.

Today I live a simple life with many close friends, but there is a hole in my soul. One day I hope to fill it again. Just as soon as that communist bastard dies.

Oh, the Joys of Japanese Television

2007-04-06T12:04:00.000-07:00

As many of you have been made aware of by now either through Chris Farley and SNL or by the wonderful powerhouse that is YouTube, Japanese game shows are the bee's knees. Going from just bizarre to flat out crazy they cover an area that most American game shows just don't like to go to.

Some videos...after the jump.

These game shows are notorious for beating up on their contestants, but nothing beats this one where men are forced to answer questions correctly or they may lose their right to bear children.

As for my favorite, try keeping your cool in a library where you must be quiet while being punished.

But it's great to know that when all is said and done, the contestants let Kickboxing Champion Ernesto Hoost sing a little karaoke in their private suite.

Oh, and a special thanks to Man Man for rocking my ass off last night.

Halle Berry 1966-2007

2007-04-03T17:15:00.000-07:00

Los Angeles, CA-- Oscar Winner Halle Berry was found dead today from what coroners claim was a massive heroin/cocaine/PCP overdose combined with of traces of hepatitis strains never before detected in medical science which were believed to be contracted by making oral contact with a Hollywood sidewalk.

For the rest of the story please read after the jump.

"Also found during the autopsy were strains of
feline leukemia, bubonic plauge, and SARS, but they are not believed to be part of the cause of death."According to Dr. Rober Atschuler, lead coroner on the case. "That sidewalk did a real number on her."

When reached for comment local Homeless woman "Screaming" Nancy Eubanks stated, "She kissed the sidewalk?! I don't even pee there because I'm afraid of what would happen."

Halle Berry was 40.

Bill Simmons Stay Away From My Basketball Team

2007-04-03T11:11:00.000-07:00

Before I get too far into this post I must apologize for what I'm going to say. Bashing Bill Simmons in a blog is beating the deadest of dead horses. But after reading his college basketball blog the other day I found something that was very alarming, Bill Simmons is joining the UCLA bandwagon.

Follow me after the jump for my open letter to The Sports Guy.

Dear Mr. Simmons,

I've been an avid fan of your columns for years now. I appreciate your unique takes on the NFL, MLB, and NBA. I don't think that anyone can really argue that you paved the way for the modern sports blog. But as much good as you have brought the sports world there have been some negatives, most notably you have really caused a lot of people to hate the teams you cheer for.

Like Lenny the retarded ranch hand in "Of Mice and Men" you love things so much that you end up ruining them for everyone else. That's why I fear your new found love of my favorite college team, the UCLA Bruins.

I understand their appeal. I mean they recently made their second straight trip to the Final Four and next year they have super recruit Kevin Love coming to Westwood. That's why now more than ever we don't need annoying man-boy love coming from the World Wide Leader souring everyone on this team.

So please Bill I beg of you turn your allegiances elsewhere. Look if you end up cheering for Kansas I promise I won't complain if you compare every player to characters from the "Karate Kid" in fact I'll make you this promise: if you choose a different basketball team next year I will write a post stating what a great writer/human being you are.

Please Mr. Simmons for me?

Hats Bagelman.

The Best of Wikipedia

2007-03-30T12:50:00.000-07:00

With fifteen of his best sailors stuck in the confines of an Iranian prison cell, one thought crossed Tony Blair's mind. We need a good ol' fashioned soldier of fortune to handle this shit. Which brings us to this week's best of Wikipedia: Soldier of Fortune.

Full frontal knowledge after the jump.

Call them what you will, privateers, mercenaries, heroes, but just remember, the soldier of fortune is the bravest man this nation has to offer outside of the Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force, Coast Guard, National Guard, FBI, Secret Service, policemen, firemen, EMT's, public school teachers, lifeguards, sheriffs, and the members of the local neighborhood watch. These men dare to fight wars for something greater than national pride or a sense of duty. They fight for cold hard cash.

A rag tag bunch of misfits, one publication has united these men in their quest for immortality, Soldier of Fortune , the magazine. Because these men are too smart, too strong and too goddamned extreme to take shit from a by the numbers pansy-ass general, they turn to Robert K. Brown, the magazine's creator, for their marching orders. Originally created in the 1970's as a recruitment news letter for the Rhodesian War, Brown's magazine has since flourished into a publishing empire on par with Flynt Enterprises, only with much more hard-core robot-on-soldier pornography. However, since the 80's, Brown has been accused of going soft, the turning point being the mag's merger with rival publication, Combatant of Affluence.

Typical dentist reading
Glamorized by Hollywood, there have been two films with the title Soldier of Fortune. The first stars a mustachioed Clark Gable as Hank, a man hired to rescue a photo journalist held prisoner in communist China. While Hank is at it, he also seduces the journalist's wife. Why? Because he's just that smooth. The other Soldier of Fortune was released in the U.S. under the name Laser Mission and stars Brandon Lee. It involves lasers, a mission of some sort, and lots and lots of ass kicking. Watch it if you dare.

This film won three Genie awards in 1990
Last, but not least, is the TV show, Soldier of Fortune, Inc. It lasted only one season, but is considered by many to be the greatest television show to grace the airwaves, followed closely by Babylon 5. The people who think this are sad, lonely, and read Soldier of Fortune magazine. Pray for them.

An Evening of Fine Dining and Baseball

2007-03-28T19:21:00.000-07:00

You are cordially invited to the first ever Incredible Mr. Limpet All You Can Eat Gala of Fun! That's right, Mr. Limpet exits cyber-space and enters meat-space for the first time ever! And you, the reader, can be there in person!

Hot Sex! How do I make this happen?

Easy, get your ass online and buy tickets for the Dodgers vs. Padres game on Saturday, April 14. Be sure to sit in the All You Can Eat Pavilion.

Make the jump for full details.

Did I read this right? All You Can Eat Pavilion?

Yep. That's right. Mr. Limpet will be watching the game from the new ampm sponsored All You Can Eat Pavilion.

What happens in the All You Can Eat Pavilion?

We feast like kings.

But I don't want to look like a pig. Maybe I'll just save a few bucks and sit in the normal seats.

Fine. We really don't need your company anyway. It's an open invitation. Do whatever you want. Pussy.

Alright, I give. I'll be there.

You won't regret this. You'll be there to witness 10lb Mustache and Hats Bagelman battle to the death in the ultimate test of endurance and will. That's right. Competitive eating. Watch America's finest athletes gorge themselves to the brink of explosion. Winner takes all.

Boring.

Did I mention Nacho Friendly will break out the gyro ball during the seventh inning stretch? Because he will. Also, there will be prizes.

You win. I'm going.

The Incredible Mr. Limpet Family looks forward to your presence.

What Will Happen to Bruno the Bear?

2007-03-28T10:26:00.000-07:00

Rome. Home to the Sistine Chapel, The Vatican, pick pockets and they want one more thing: A bear.

Germany. Host of Octoberfest, wonderfully efficient people, hasn't seen a wild bear in over 170 years and owner of the upper hand. They have the bear so desired by Italy.

Bruno the bear started his long journey from Italy through Austria and on into Germany before being shot down in a Mexican style standoff similar to that at the end of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Bruno went on a crime spree comparable only to Bonnie and Clyde, eating thirty sheep, four rabbits and some poor little girl's guinea pig. Had he no heart?

Follow Bruno's path of destruction, both while alive and posthumously, after the jump.

Bruno the bear lead a simple life. He ate, he slept, he pooped in various places in the alps, but trouble soon came to Bruno when his mother was killed by an Italian with a fancy moustache. Having turned to a life of crime he soon came to the conclusion that he had to run from these moustachioed Italians to stay alive. "We're a-gonna get that a-bear!" one Italian hunter screamed upon realizing that Bruno had pooped in his front yard and lit it on fire.

The next stop on Bruno's list would be the great country of Austria. He had always heard magnificent stories about their countryside, but what Bruno would soon come across would change his life forever. He couldn't find the meat he usually could in the Italian countryside and when coming across a sheep farm his hunger got the better of his judgement. His thirst for domesticated blood would be unleashed.

The bear's trek continued on into Germany a fatal step he would later regret. You see, Germany had not seen a bear in over 170 years in the wild and Bruno now had the taste for sheep's blood. "This is heaven," Bruno thought to himself while heading over the Austria-Germany border. The Germans were there, with open arms, welcoming their refugee friend from the evil Italy, but things didn't stay so optimistic.

There was some violence in the middle of the night. A Bavarian farmer awoke to a horrible sight, "It gutted [the sheep] and then just ate their hearts and livers," for you see, Bruno was blind to all races German and Italian alike and really just wanted revenge on humans. Germany immediately issued a statement that if hunters were to see Bruno they were to shoot him. Then the animal rights groups deemed the government "hysterical" and fought for the bear's right to live, but there was no turning back for the government...Germany never goes back on their word.

But then the unthinkable happened. Bruno just disappeared. It was later revealed that he found a safe house just southeast of Munich to hide out in, but was later kicked out when he ate a little girl's guinea pig. Upon trying to get back to the Austrian border the standoff went down and Bruno went down.

Now the Italian government is trying to claim ownership to Bruno's body despite the terror inflicted upon the German people. Bruno will be put on display in Bavaria as a constant reminder of how most things Italian are just mean, dirty and will probably try and steal whatever they can from you if they get the chance.

Mustache Royal Rumble

2007-03-27T08:27:00.000-07:00

The Final Four's been set and it looks like 10lb's tea leaves were far more accurate in predicting those mustaches that would excel, correctly choosing 3 of the 4 Finalists. I bow with reverence, humbly. (Honestly, should I even feel bad? I mean the guy's name is 10lb Mustache, it's not like I had much of a chance.)

There is one last round, however, and it's a no-holds-barred Royal Rumble style Death Match.

Catch up on our short predictions for who will pull this thing out, metaphorically speaking, after the jump.

Nacho: I heard a radio commercial for this contest on my way in to work today, and that commercial played sound bites from each of the Finalists. Jimmy Oritz, or Oddjob as we've taken to calling him, said that his mustache was "famous" and that kids and adults wanted to "touch it" but if you look at Jimmy's profile pictures, it becomes painfully obvious that he's a flasher, and is in this thing just to be touched. Jim Brees is an idiot and says his mustache would "look good behind the wheel of a new Chevy Silverado." You know what else would? My sack. I'm just sayin'; anything looks good behind the wheel of a new Chevy Silverado.

Now the tough part: "Scrappy" Maggie Dempsey's makes up half of the Finalists that use their brain and actually have an angle. She points out that, as a woman, if she saw any of the other 'staches she'd "run away from them." I think this is a brilliant move, because it'll force all the ladies out there to question what they find attractive, and it'll make the dudes wonder if they're gay. (You voted for Ortiz because you secretly want him to give you an odd job, didn't you?) Bravo Maggie, you are the CJ Craig of deflecting attention in Mustache Madness. Lastly is Lance Kirianoff, who told us that his mustache "soars out like an eagle. In essence, it's a symbol for the American way." In these troublesome times fraught with peril and legitimate questioning of our nation's leaders, I applaud Lance for concentrating on the positive side of things, for focusing on all that is good in America. I say it's a toss up between Lance and Scraps, with Scraps pulling ahead in the final hours, and Lance, not unlike Bruce Willis, perishing on the asteroid.

10lb Moustache: Wow. I can't believe we made it this far. I'd love to see all of these moustaches perform a true royal rumble along with the ultimate moustache Hulk Hogan, but mostly I'd just like him to body slam that dumbass Jim Brees.

As far as predictions go, I think an underestimation of Lance or Maggie at this point would be a poor move on any serious contender. Brees is right out. I mean look at him. His picture is in black and white! He shouldn't even be this far.

I think your heavy weight contender is Ortiz, mostly because he probably took his laptop to a family picnic this last weekend and forced everyone to vote for him and if they refused he probably chopped off their head with his hat. Maggie, however, is our dark horse and is a force, I think it's safe to say, no one saw coming.

Snarled & Jammed: The Three Worst Infrastructures In America

2007-03-26T22:38:00.000-07:00

With the arrival of the NCAA Tournament's Final Four, Atlanta's gonna be busier than an indentured servant in high cotton. Folks from the four corners of the country will amass in the home of Cartoon Network and Waffle House to watch man-children duke it out for the title of National Champion.

I've done a few tours in The Jewel of the South and I thought I'd share some thoughts about how it, and other cities, decided that a decent infrastructure isn't as important as a professional sports team.

So fill out your survey, and join us after the jump for Nacho Friendly's Three Worst Infrastructures In America.

My god, you've really got nothing to do, don't you? Jesus, it's a post about bad traffic. It's not even clever. No big revelations here. Lemme save you a lot of time:

#3 - Los Angeles (Don't be so insulted; it's bad, but there's endless lunacy to marvel at whilst stuck in it, so it's not that bad.)

#2 - Atlanta (There is no time of the day that traffic doesn't suck in Atlanta. God help you if you try and get anywhere downtown after 3pm.)

#1 - Houston (Ever been there? This guy has. He fucking designed the inner loop. Do not attempt to drive through Houston unless you are in some sort of psychedelic state where logic doesn't exist. And remember, do whatever the coyote says.)

There we go. Couple witticisms, a few deep links. Goonies reference. Yep, it's a Limpet Post.

Don't forget to vote for "Scrappy" Maggie Dempsey in Mustache Madness's Final Four. There's no more match-ups, it's a free for all. 10lb & myself will have details coming forthwith.

Are You There God? It's Me, The Internet

2007-03-26T09:07:00.000-07:00

Watch out world, there's a new advice slut on the block. No I'm not talking about Sally Jesse Raphaël, I'm talking about What Should I Say. Think of it as the internet with the wisdom of your favorite senile grandparent. I know I might be giving away trade secrets here, but from time to time, even Mr. Feelings turns to this page for advice.

Some pearls of wisdom after the jump.

Got in a bar fight...what should I say to the judge to get out of trouble?
-jimmy725

I can hear your collective tongues clucking, but who among you is perfect? Besides, you might benefit from this man's courage to ask. How else would you know the best course of action is to:

Try to shift the blame saying that it was the other guys fault.
-bubblegirl76

Thank you, bubblegirl76. You just saved this man's life.

Got a stinky rasta man in your life?

My new friend's dreds smell like ammonia and pee. He's a good person, fun to hang out with and girls think he's cute - but the smell makes me ill. I'm pretty sure no one else has the guts to break it to him... Or maybe it's just me who is sensitive to it. WSIS?
-how2b

I know you thought there was no delicate way to address this issue, but you all thought wrong.

Hey , So what sort of products do you use to maintain your hair like that? You know they have an odd smell?
-michaelarkins

Holly shit, that's tactful. Double or nothing on the next one.

How can I ask my mom to switch to boxers instead of briefs?
-irsmart

Wow, that guy is a pussy. What advice could possibly help him?

I'm going to assume that your mother still buys your clothes. That's fine. The best thing to do is just ask. Just do it and feel embarassed or whatever but then you'll get what you want and you'll be happy you did it.
-Idon Twana Tellya

Can't argue with that. Let's suckle the wisdom teat one more time before calling it a day.

My girlfriend and I recently were in a threesome. How do I tell her that I wished she was not there and it was only me and Billy?
-face the cougar

Billy Dee Williams, what have thou wrought?

You don't say that, under any circumstance. If you cant get it out of your head, and you have the stomach, call Billy and f*ck his brains out. Whether you should break-up with your gf is a different decision. But keep the piehole shut.
-falameufilho

Crisis averted.

The Best of Wikipedia

2007-03-22T13:09:00.000-07:00

Can music change the world? Mr. Feelings thinks so. That's the focus of this week's The Best of Wikipedia, Roundball Rock.

If you watch the NBA, then there is a John Tesh shaped void in your heart. That's because the rousing score written by Mr. Tesh that accompanied every network telecast between 1990 and 2002, Roundball Rock, was dropped when the National Basketball Association signed broadcast rights over to those figure skating fans at ABC. Tune into a game now, and you'll get bombarded by a piss-tastatic song from The Pussy Cat Dolls.

Read more on Tesh and the NBA after the jump...

But for those brief dozen years, life was sweet. Michael Jordan dominated the game, the US men's basketball team was amazing, and John Tesh's new age music was a sweet siren call to camp out in front of the boob-tube for three hours at a time.

This clip brings back so many wonderfully painful memories

The story behind the song is legendary. John Tesh was cycling through Pau competing in the Tour de France, when, during an endorphin generated hallucination, he saw before him none other than Kareem, The Captain, Abdul-Jabar riding a great white steed. He opened his mouth, and from it flooded forth a light brighter than the a billion suns. A chorus rang out. Tesh originally called this song, The Dirge of the Apocalypse (As Told to Me by Kareem Abdul-Jabar).

An artist interpretation of Tesh's vision
Tesh stopped at a pay phone and sang the tune into his home answering machine. The machine promptly melted under the power of the music, and Tesh was forced to lay the track down once more with the aid of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Only three orchestra members survived to tell the tale.

Shocked no one wanted to buy his apocalyptic tune, Tesh fiddled with the tempo and the dirge become an upbeat fight song re-titled Roundball Rock. NBC scooped up the anthem for its new baby, the NBA, and the rest is history.

Of course controversy still courts the song wherever it is played. Tesh himself admits he tried to use a pseudonym when shopping the song due to the lyric's graphic descriptions of the end of times. A 2006 performance of the song led to riots between Christians and Muslims throughout the streets of Hamburg, Germany. Even more troubling, the song was performed thousands of miles away in Melbourne, Australia.

Tesh has vowed never to write another song for fear the next single might beckon the earth one step closer to doom. That, and he admits everything else he's written is new age jerk-off crap. But he boasts Roundball Rock still gets him laid. Bravo, Mr. Tesh. Bravo.

Calvert DeForest: We Hardly Knew Ye

2007-03-22T10:00:00.000-07:00

The Incredible Mr. Limpet is about to get real. Real depressing. If you think you can't handle that, I suggest you look at Japanese guys taking nut shots ala Jerk Stupid-what-ever-the-hell-he-calls-himself.

Calvert DeForest, the man we knew as Larry "Bud" Melman died on Wednesday. Yeah, other people are writing about this, but the bloggers at Incredible Mr. Limpet owe it to his memory to add their two cents. There are not enough words in the English language to sum up what this man meant to the Limpet family, but if you are willing, please follow us after the jump as we offer you our small tribute.

(Note: This post is an open thread so check throughout the day as the entire Limpet crew sends Mr. DeForest our warmest regards)

Mr. Feelings:
Larry Bud Melman was a staple of my childhood. Before figuring out how to set the timer on my parents' top loading VCR, I'd stay up late with my brother (yes, Mr. Feelings does have family, and they are all gorgeous thanks to the Nazi-superman genes provided by some fine doctors in Brazil) to watch David Letterman do his then cutting edge shtick. I'd usually fall asleep before the musical guest, but for Larry Bud, I was always wide awake.

Like everything on Letterman's show at the time, you never knew where the joke began or ended. Either Larry was a genuinely strange human being or a brilliant performance artist. He blew my still developing mind like some sort of comedic lysergic acid diethylamide. They say reading expands your horizons; for me late night television did the same thing. Calvert DeForest, you will be missed. Not just for your laughs, but for the hot towels you so tenderly provided to the world.

Nacho Friendly:
When Hats told me about the passing of Bud Melman I was knee-deep in mustaches and couldn't fully comprehend what exactly he was telling me. When I finally took a moment to reflect, it hit me like a big, blunt trauma to the head. While I don't have quite the relationship with Calvert as some other contributors (we never went fishing or anything), I do have fond memories of the old bastard. I can't think of anything particularly special or stand-outish from his Letterman appearances, so I'll simply state that when one's mother really enjoys watching CMT, occassionally you're treated to gems like Vince Gill's 'What The Cowgirls Do':

Hats Bagelman:
I usually don't get rattled when famous people die. I just don't normally feel emotionally attached to people I don't know. So when I found out yesterday that Larry "Bud" Melman passed on I was shocked at how much it affected me. Like Mr. Feelings, I remember staying up to watch the old Letterman show and Larry "Bud" Melman was always one of my favorite characters. Unlike Rupert G. from the Hello Deli or Biff the technical director, you never really knew if Larry was in on the joke. But at the same time he always was gung-ho about whatever Dave made him do, whether it was dressing up like Elvis or like in the defamer clip wearing a bear suit and asking for change to a ten dollar bill. He was always gung-ho.

In the end all I can think about is a little anecdote about Princess Dianna's death. I couldn't care less about her (I mean didn't we win two wars so we wouldn't have to care about British royalty) but I remember Mother Theresa died shortly afterwards and all the news shows ran pictures of her along-side the Princess. Well, in December one of my greatest heroes, James Brown, died and while I was searching the interwebs for pictures of Mr. Melman I found this picture:
(For those of you who can't tell that's Larry with the Godfather)
RIP Calvert.

10lb Mustache:
Um... who?
(Note: 10lb Mustache is too cool for school)

Jerk Stupidneck
Look I wasn't even goin to read this beyond the point where I was disrespected by a sissy-mary wearing a girdle, but for Larry "Bud" Melman I continue.

Bagelman mentioned the bit where he's in a bear suit asking for change, here's the touching video.

Letterman sketches have always seemed unrehearsed and untested. They were funny because a lot of times they went on forever with no pay off and were just awkward, and if there was one thing Calvert DeForest excelled at, it was being awkward. Blurting out lines like he'd been painstakingly memorizing them seconds before walking out on stage, he could make any bit funny simply by staring straight into the camera.

Normally I'm one to belittle and demoralize the shameless, but in this case, he was so good at what he did, I can't help but respect the man. RIP Calvert, good luck on The Big Talk Show in the Sky.

America is being kicked square in the nuts

2007-03-21T14:48:00.000-07:00

Looking for cutting political diatribes and commentary? Well move it on down the line piss-ant because I ain't your mommy here to help the widdle baby with his itty bitty voting balot. You know what? Just off yourself, I'm already sick of you.

Alright, alright get that .45 out of your mouth dummy. You'll most likely botch it anyways and wind up horribly disfigured stealing money out of my wallet every paycheck. No thanks. Where was I, you got me all off track with your vapid jump to conclusions...

Ah yes! America, nay the WORLD, is full of idiots! How do I know you ask? Well the mighty oracle of YouTube will provide evidence for anyone to see. I'll start at the beginning after the jump.

Admiral Kamimura began the blooper clip phenomenon in 1891 when someone got a picture of him getting a canon ball dropped on his foot during war games

Bloopers. Who doesn't love watching them? My favorite is when the olympic guy got speared with a javelin. Human suffering is funny, lets face it, but the problem is - and I'm placing the blame square on the shoulders of the Japanese - that no longer are bloopers accidental schadenfreude. No, now people are looking for fame by videoing themselves in idiotic situations with the hope of getting a couple laughs from their moron friends.

Why do I blame the Japenese you ask?

They are constantly raising the stupid bar and exporting it to America in an attempt to take us down through psychological warfare (since they are prohibited by law from having any sort of conventional military). Now you're saying "But Stupidneck, what about Johnny Knoxville and Jackass?"

Firstly, shut the hell up, nutsack, grown-ups are talking.

Secondly, it is a well kept secret that Knoxville was trained as a spy in Shibetsu before being shipped in a crate to the US in the mid 1990's to create mayhem by spreading "Blooper Doctrine" through mass media in the states.

Here you can clearly see the Japanese influence on America's idiot children. Their pathetic, impressionable mush brains can't help be adopt the culture pressed upon them. Sure it may look like sped up slow motion moves that couldn't harm anyone except through embarassment, but give these dolts 5 years and they'll be riding dirt bikes into volcanoes to the tune of Rage Against the Machine's "Pocket Full of Shells".

Next item for the jury, S. Sparkenickle and friends in the desert burning the bodies of those they have desecrated. Is that enough? Not for these simpletons.

That's right... put a glass bottle full of gasoline in a fire and see what happens! (If you like shiny boom booms fast forward to about 5 minutes into the video you little mongoloid you!) Darwin never mentioned stupid with his theories on natural selection.

Let's have some fun with trampolines!

High point of the video is that fat ass jumping off a roof and braining himself when he's launched of the trampoline.

What's that? You like fireworks?

So did that guys testes.

But when you're talking about stupid, many people think of one place - The South. I think of everyone but me and The Donald, but the South isn't helping their case by providing video evidence of company sponsored idiocy.

I'm guessing the "Company" is a moonshining bath tub in Uncle Willy's cabin.

But, the retard de la retards, the winner of the who can take the most bricks to the face before the age of 3, goes to Genius McCorky-from-life-goes-on here in this video.

Pretty smart there, chief. Maybe you could play for the Pirates with that swing.

With any luck these cretins should eliminate themselves from the halls of human existance within a few years, but their videos will live on so that I may laugh my worries away.

Just kidding. I don't have any worries because I'm not you.

Dear Mr. Feelings...

2007-03-21T13:17:00.000-07:00

Today's letter comes from a concerned mother in Rhode Island. Let's feel this mother out.

Dear Mr. Feelings,

I'm the proud mother of a nine-year-old girl. They wait far too long to teach children about sex in elementary school, so I thought I'd get a head start. I fear I may have gone too far however, and now find myself the victim of a protracted witch hunt led by Judge Jude Jeremiah S. Jeremiah Jr. and his dogmatic interpretation of child safety laws. You may have read about it.

He says I can't bone my boyfriend in front of my daughter, even if it is for educational purposes. I say let parents do the parenting. Am I alone on this?
Sincerely,
Sex at Home Mom

Advice after the jump...

Dear Sex at Home Mom,

I hear you. This is exactly the kind of crap I said would happen when Bush was elected. I've been showing my body off to third graders for years. Same as you, it's always educational (wink), but what used to be a harmless bit of show-and-tell is suddenly a criminal act. Just the other day I visited an elementary school in Calimesa where I was scheduled to lecture, but my guest pass was lost, and before the paper work could get cleared up, the local sheriffs department had me in handcuffs like some common pervert. These days even Slim Goodbody would be branded a pedophile.

Children need to know being naked is being natural. We weren't born with clothes. Free your body, the mind will follow. The sex act falls in the same category. Do it where you want, when you want, and in front of whomever you want.

I'm going to break protocol here, and say we should meet up. Us progressive thinkers need to stick together. Also, bring your boyfriend. I'd love to see your teaching methods. Is it cool if I invite some friends? Mind if I videotape it? I'm trying to start my own curriculum. Also, how do you feel about role-playing (for the curriculum) as a Nazi dominatrix? Think about it. You know where to find me.

Sincerely,
Mr. Feelings

Hats Bagelman Will Make You President

2007-03-20T14:46:00.000-07:00

Well, since ~~lovely~~ mildly annoying reader Trudy has taken me to task for not posting as much as I used to it's time to bring back everyone's least favorite running feature: Hats Bagelman will make you president. Today's lucky contestant Mitt Romney.

Follow me after the jump for my advice.

Mitt, Mitt, Mitt you seem to have gotten in a little trouble with the Cubans in Miami. You see it's not really a good idea to go around quoting Fidel Castro to a bunch of people who risked their lives in homemade boats to get away from the man. It's just not smart politics.

So now you think you're in a bind. You know Cubans are a huge part of the Republican base and you're trying to think of a way to get out of this. Well you're lucky cause I think I have the answer to your problem. You should go out and insult every other minority group out there. You see Cubans aren't a forgetful people but if you prove to be a racist idiot they will forgive you.

So next time you speak to the NAACP why not mention that without slavery there wouldn't be so many good athletes. Or if you find yourself speaking to Asian voters be sure to say "Five dollar sucky sucky" then commend them all for being very good at math. You get the idea.

I know this may seem drastic but never forget the importance of the Cuban vote. The last time somone took them for granted it didn't end well.

Moustache Madness is here!

2007-03-20T00:18:00.000-07:00

The time is 11:09, I'm still vomiting green, & Jock Jams Vol. II is on the stereo...it can mean only one thing: It's Mustache Madness time again!

That's right, those lovely fellas over at Jack FM have started up their yearly March Moustache tournament. And your two guides to everything from handlebars to flava savas, Nacho Friendly and 10lb. Moustache, have the guide to help you navigate your own way victory in your office.

Follow us after the jump to beat that fat bitch Nancy in accounting...

(Note: Click on the picture to get a full view of what the bracket has to offer!)

Sweet Sixteen Matchups:

In the creatively-illiterate "FLAVA SAVA" division:

Nacho: We've got Steve Morales (below, left) going up against Dennis Marsh (below, right). I gotta give this one to Marsh. Morales went for the heartstrings; he claims he grew his 'stache because he saw a photo of his great-grandpa, and "thought it would be cool." C'mon, Steve everyone's great-grandfather had that 'stache. It was the Selleck of the Gilded Age. Dennis Marsh upset the top seed, and he states that he grew his mustache long just to piss off his boss. Besides, Dennis's picture offers a lot more opportunities for lewd captions. Go ahead. I'm sure you can think of a few in the comments section.

Moustache: Marsh did beat out the Reynolds look alike, but though Marsh seems like a fun loving firefighter, I wouldn't underestimate Morales' stache. It had four confirmed kills in Vietnam as an assassin. I mean, why else would anyone be living in Thousand Oaks?

(Ed note: We sincerely apologize to our readers in Thousand Oaks, Moustache was hurt a long time ago by a tainted woman who lived there. The rest of us at Limpet do not feel the same way he does even though she was a pretty big whore)

Nacho: Next we've got Ben de los Reyes (below, left) taking on Jimmy Ortiz (below, right). Ben's comments about his 'stache cover his obvious duel heritage. He describes his mustache in a way I'd like to, were I don one. Ben's the underdog at the 11-seed, but Jimmy's just not giving me any reason to vote for him. Other than being way too personal about his hygeine. I'm going with King Ben.

Moustache: King Ben?!?! Don't get ahead of yourself here Nacho. Jimmy Ortiz would go into a blind rage killing Ben in an instance with his hat. Yes, that was an Odd-Job reference and, no, you can't be him on Goldeneye next time because that little shit was way too hard to see. Look, his last name is Ortiz, he's wearing a suit, he didn't have his girlfriend leave a comment for him on the page. Hands down. Ortiz.

Nacho: I've got Marsh to advance to the Final Four, sending the Monopoly Man into a murderous rampage.

Moustache: I'm calling a fight to the death between Ortiz and Morales. All the families are getting involved. There will be blood before we get to the final four.

In the why-isn't-this-really-offensive "WOMB BROOM" division:

Nacho: Hide the children, it's 1-seeded Paul "Dirty" Sanchez (below, left) going up against 5-seeded Rod "No Nickname Needed" Smallwood (below, right). Dirty's a top seed for a reason: he's got a wikid 'stache, and its fate is inherently tied to his daughters. It can't be easy to be a teenager, with no chance of your dad shaving before you graduate. As for Rod Smallwood, well, he's a liar. No, not about his name; about the founding fathers. I call bullshit. No founding father wore that ridiculous thing. Dirty wins.

Moustache: Oh, please. Rod Smallwood is your man. Paul Sanchez looks like his beard threw up into something that vaguely resembled a moustache. If I wanted to see half-assed moustaches I'd go to Thousand Oaks and visit my ex.

(Ed Note: Refer to above statement concerning Limpet and Thousand Oaks, but really, she was a huge slut.)

Nacho: Rounding out the division are Lance Kirianoff (below, left) & Tom Kamuda (below, right). This one is really a shame for Tom. Normally, he'd be a solid bet, but this time around the fates led to a Upturny-thing vs. Upturny-thing, and if you'll notice, Lance makes specific mention that his 'stache has learned to turn itself out, like Dirk Diggler in a pickup. Tommy is forced to hold his up with his hands, due to what I can only assume is a lack of wax. Also, Lance doesn't look like he's about to sodomize the next thing that moves in his photo. Lance advances.

Moustache: I'm going to have to agree with you here on this one, Nacho. Kirianoff is a shoo in. Kamuda has to hold his out to show that it's not just part of his beard. Kirianoff doesn't even need wax to get his in a prime shape. Kamuda must have faced some severely sad contenders to get this far.

Nacho: I'm taking 3-seeded Kirianoff to the Final Four. Dirty had a good run, but it's not in the cards.

Moustache: Kirianoff is going to the final four. I've said my peace about the other two.

In the bi-curiously-lingual "EL BIGOTES" division:

Nacho: A GIRL?! Here we've got 1-seeded Mark Fields (below, left) going up against "Scrappy" Maggie Dempsey (below, right), who has decidedly less Y-chromosones than the rest of the Sweet Sixteen. I'm taking the Scraps. I don't see what's special about Fields's 'stache; seems to have gotten a higher seed than he deserved, like Wisconsin. Scraps points out that she can put her mustache on babies, which can only turn out well. Dempsey takes it.

Moustache: Scraps has got it. She's got heart, tattoos and boobies.

Nacho: In the Cinderella match-up we've got 7-seeded Chirs Farren (below, left)taking on 14-seed Hal "The Colonel" Gant (below, right). I wanted to give this one to Farren because his mustache reminds me of a branding, but in the end, I had to go with Hal's anti-war message. His misguided superiors tried to restrict his mustache's freedom, so he did the only American thing there was to do: he found a loophole. Bravo, The Colonel, bravo.

Moustache: At this point I don't think it matters which of these two wins because they will lose to scraps in the Elite eight anyway. "Crisco" terrifies me, but Gant looks like he's going to try and sell me something I don't really need. I guess I'd rather be tricked into getting a Flowbee than be scared and I could ensure a superior doo for my next trip to Thousand Oaks.

(Ed Note: Once again, we are not in anyway affiliated with Moustache's hatred of Thousand Oaks, but what kind of a bitch breaks up with you over IM? Seriously, get some class.)

Nacho: While I wanna take The Colonel to the championship, I'm going out on a limb and I'm gonna send Scraps to the Big Game.

Moustache: Scraps is going to the four. No doubt about it.

The "Bad News Bears of Moustache Madness" are the Ticklers

Nacho: The first match up pits Rene Diamante (below, left) against Don Cooper (below, right). While Coop's 'stache stoutly refuses to obey the laws of gravity, I'm going with Diamante, who may or may not be a time traveler from "Deadwood". You grow up with a girl's name, you learn early that you've gotta be tough and nothing says tough like Rene's 'stache.

Moustache: This is a hard one to call, but I think I'm going to have to go with Cooper's no bullshit attitude. No stories of glory or family. Just 'stache. And he doesn't give a shit that his camera still shows the date.

Nacho: In the final contest there's Jim "Bushy" Bees (below, left) and Jeff " The Drifter" Hiers (below, right). Both are men of few words, they let their 'staches do their talking. Considering both started at double-digits seeds, I consider this a toss up. I'm going with The Drifter, because he made me remember how much I enjoyed watching Forrest Gump run cross country.

Moustache: I could care less about these two guys. these moustaches and pictures suck immensely. Bees is wearing a Santa hat so why not.

Nacho: Advancing to the Final Four, I'm taking Rene due his 'stache versatility in pirate, swashbuckling, and rum running situations.

Moustache: I'm only hoping that Don Cooper takes his no bullshit attitude all the way to the top.

FINAL FOUR

Nacho: March/Kirianoff. Scrappy/Rene.

Moustache: Ortiz/Kirianoff and Scrappy/Cooper.

Make sure to come back to check out who's going to go all the way on April 2nd.

Back Row Review Show: Stay at Home Edition!!!!

2007-03-19T15:26:00.000-07:00

Bling Crosby Jr. is at it again! That's right folks he's found some time in his busy schedule huffing paint to do another review for us.

So please follow us after the jump for Bling's review of Winter Passing.

Hello Friends!   After a couple of days off, (rehab followed by a quick two-night stay at my local prison), I'm back and ready to shoot from the hip about the new movies hitting theatres!  

Except this time, I decided to write about what I've been watching from my Netflix account. I know what you're saying, "hey buddy, I thought you went to the movies to review them....working from home, that's bullshit."

Well, it's not bullshit. It's called House Arrest, and even under house arrest, a man's gotta pay his bills. He's gotta pay his telephone bills. And he's gotta pay his automobiles too, even though there's this orange type thing on the tire that won't let him drive to the movies. And if it’s not enough, a repo man has been driving by my car at night. And I’m not talking about Martin Sheen; I’m talking the real repo man. None of that Two and a Half men Bullshit; this is life baby! Shit is real in the field.

So, I lit some candles, got comfy, put the wife and the kids and their kids and a few of their kids to bed, and threw in tonight's movie: Winter Passing.   I know you think Winter Passing is a little too small for a plebian like me, to which I reply Bitch Please. I went to (community) college.....I have a large appreciation for the arts and other artsy things. Although I hadn't heard of this movie, one of my Netflix friends gave it a five star rating! His name is Brooklynkid85, he lives in Brooklyn and claims Brooklyn for life. (He says it's better than where he grew up in Rhode Island). Although last time my Brooklyn friend suggested the movie it was thing called ALI; FEAR BITES THE SOUL. I was like "sweeeeeeet....A new sequel to Ali!" But guess what, there was no Will Smith and there wasn't even English.   

So, on to the movie. This is the funniest film I've seen all year! Director Adam Rapp must have been as fed up with that indie bullshit as I was, so he made like a SCARY MOVIE type spoof of Art Films.

Does it work?   DOES IT EVER.   Here's what happens in the first 20 minutes.   

Our hero, played by ELF's Zooey Deschanel, gets all sad after she doesn't get an audition.  

-She does coke.  

-She has three one-night stands and kicks them out.  

-She does more coke and more sex.

-She tends Bar (because she's a people's person) 

-She Slams her hand in a drawer because it's the only way she can feel.  

-Her cat gets sick, so she put him/her in a bag and dumps said bag into the river.   

Pretty funny, right?   So I rated it five stars and told my friend from Brooklyn how funny it was. But here's where the story gets weird.....he tried to tell me it's not a comedy.

Kill that noise! This shit's funny!   Here's what he wrote me.   "You uncivilized animal. How could you think this brutally honest and emotional portrait of apathy in both the zoo that is the post-modern American city and the hell that is the modern arts communities could ever be conceived as a comedy? This is what happens to people who live in the shadow of famous people, pain and other stuff."   

What! How can this be true! Do all tortured rich girls have one night stands and put their hand in drawers! My wife doesn't do that shit, and she's effing tortured. She may cry herself to sleep in her pillow and the curse the day I was born, but she'll get over it. (I stopped paying attention to her a looong time ago...)  As should my Brooklyn friend. Lighten up buddy, this movie is funny.

French Airplane Manufacturer Unveils Latest Weapon To Al-Qaeda

2007-03-19T15:24:00.000-07:00

Airbus’ newest airplane the A380 landed in NY this afternoon after making its first trans-Atlantic flight. The flight was made to illustrate the plane’s sheer magnificence and to woo a world audience of potential terrorist highjackers. Lufthansa's vice president for the Americas, Jens Bischoff dubbed the new craft “die Wonderbombeflug” (wonderful flying bomb), and contended, “a plane of such immense size can do nothing short of revolutionize the terrorist industry as we know it.”

Commenting from a special tent erected for visiting Al-Qaeda dignitaries on the JFK airport tarmac, Abu Mohammed al-Masri said, “81,890 gallons of jet fuel coming at you at 560 mph! Now that my friend will melt some steel girders.”

Al-Masri’s sentiments were shared by the other high profile Jihadists in attendance on Monday. Saif al-Adel was heard to remark, “I may be getting ahead of myself, but imagine if we were able to hijack one of these and hold on to it for a while. We could paint on the belly of the plane in big block letters, ‘Death to America!’ and the infidels on the street would be able to read our message before meeting their end. I know it sounds crazy, but I am just so excited!”

Khalid Sheikh Mohammed was not in attendance but did release a statement from parts unknown: “A plane of this size gives us more devastation power than I could have ever dreamed of when I was planning the September 11th attacks just a few years ago. Not only will a bigger plane cause more destruction upon impact, but the added passenger capacity of the planes only heightens the level of carnage we are able to inflict.”

In a recent release to shareholders, Airbus shed some light on its reasoning for taking on an investment as large as the A380:

“With the Taliban in resurgence in Afghanistan, an unwinnable war in Iraq, and the ongoing polarization of the Muslim world against the west; it is clear to us that the terrorist industry is poised for dramatic growth. As the size and influence of terrorist groups such as Al-Qaeda and others grows, so will their need for bigger and more devastating planes in which to unleash the wrath of their holy war. We believe the A380 will fill this need.”

Maybe The Greatest MySpace Comment. Ever.

2007-03-18T22:29:00.000-07:00

A long time ago, in Charlotte, North Carolina, at the PF Chang's in Phillip's Place, I received a fortune inside my cookie that read: Maybe in the next century, you'll live on the moon. First off, you never want to see the word maybe appear anywhere in your fortune. When the fates aren't certain of themselves, what hope do you have? Second, that's just a terrible fucking fortune.

That little rant there has nothing to do with the rest of this post, other than I used the word maybe in the title and I feel that's a suspect word, man. Suspect.

Here's the deal; I'll make it short and sweet. A good friend of mine, lets call her Kari, just flew in for a visit, despite the fact that her brother went out of town. Kari...and her smokin'-hot friend (pictured below).

Smokin'-Hot Friend
These ladies spent Maewyn's Day* at the bar with a gaggle of handsome devils. Yesternight, I left Kari a comment on MySpace, and this evening that comment was superceded by, what I think just may be, The Greatest MySpace Comment. Ever.

See said quote, after the jump.

Oh, and if you're thinking of NOT looking at the quote, I suggest you take a gander below at the Tags used for this post. You smexy reader, you.

Behold:

"All the girls out there are totally lying when they tell you that size does not matter. Want proof?

I am telling you this because it is the honest truth, look I should know, they say that it is all in the way you use it, not how big it is, well I got news for you all, that is pure lies. I know from personal experience, I will tell you about a secret that Robespierre [Ed.'s note: name changed to protect some guy named Joey] has made me promise to never ever tell anyone, but since he has not called me in three weeks after standing me up, [Ed's note: totally valid] I am going to break the promise and tell you how he went from having a tiny wang and in 4 months he is now about nine inches and get this, it is still getting bigger. He has been secretly taking grow pills from this site: KAKIM.COM

I found out when I was at his house, three Fridays ago, we were getting ready to go to the mall, so while he was in the shower, I went in his room, sneeked[sic] under his bed and found a box with pill bottles in it, there was like 9 full bottles and 4 empty ones, all ordered from KAKIM.COM

I was laughing at first but then when he came in the room and caught me looking at them, he freaked out and made me sware[sic] to not ever tell anyone about them, especially girls from school or work that he has been dating for the past while, now that I think of it, he has been rather busy with all the popular girls around here, when just last year he was the shyest[not sic] when it came to girls.

I just never put two and two together until he explained it all to me, I did see his prick and yes, it is huge, pronostar[sic, for now°] huge, the thickest and longest one I ever seen... They guarantee that the pills will work on any man, or they give you your money back, living proof that they do work on any guy, seeing is believing. KAKIM.COM
P25884688"

My favorite, proudest part: The SECOND testimonal^ was from a fellow Tarheel! (It should be noted, he was one of the few to actually name a city and state [Raleigh, NC - Thanks, "JC"] rather than opt for the more inconspicuous "USA". That's usin' dem book smarts.)

North Carolina: home of tobacco, barbecue, and grossly-undersized genitalia. It's science.

* Wiki mentions the name Maewyn once. Anti-Pagan bastards.

° We've submitted "pronostar" to the Urban Dictionary.

^ The first testimonial is written by "AngelStar - PornStar". He proclaims that "Men are going to stand up and clap their hands at these penis enlargement capsules." So there's that...Wait..."at" the penis capsules? Do the penis capsules need our applause? Is this like [terrible pun alert!] Chuck Barris's "The Dong Show"?

Also, did I overuse italics this time out? Well eff you; now you gotta answer to Manutius. Honestly, do you wanna tango with a dude named Manutius? Didn't think so. Punk.

Some facts about S. "Steve" Sparkenickle, West Bumpgarten, USA

2007-03-16T12:20:00.000-07:00

Artist's interpretation of one S. Sparkenickle

You probably remember my post from a few days back where I happened upon S. Sparkenickle hailing from West Bumpgarten, USA. Well Sparkenickle had a few choice words for me after I hit so close to home by calling him the Wild Bill - Wild Bill from Silence of the Lambs, not the famous wild west gunslinger - of the West Bumpgarten horse community.

Anonymous said...

I'm S. Sparkenickle and I live in West Bumpgarten, USA. Maybe you could do a little research. We even have a post office. I own several horses and care for them in a professional manner. You are the sick a--hole.

If I was going to remove anyone's skin to make suit it would be yours. I could proably make two people costumes from your fat ass.

Leave me alone jerk!

March 14, 2007 6:00 PM

Sounds like a paraphrase of "It puts the lotion in the basket or it gets the hose again" to me.

Let's delve a little deeper into the twisted and disgusting mind of S. "Steve" Sparkenickle after the jump.

Sparkenickle begins his morning yoga routine around 3pm each day

Probably the creepiest thing about Sparkenickle is that you can google "S. Sparkenickle" you get a bunch of results. No... not articles talking about one, S. Sparkenickle, but rather links to various news story that S. Sparkenickle has decided to throw his idiotic 2 cents into via comments.

Here's a gem from Metro.co.uk in reference to a story about a mystery man some brittish bird saw on a train and launched a worldwide campaign to find him.

My gaydar is blinking bright on this one.....

- Steve Sparkenickle, West Bumpgarten, USA

I bet that mystery man on the british subway is really burning with rage from this mega burn!

Ok so far I've noticed a proclivity for reading and commenting on UK internet publications. Not sure what to make of that, but I am sure that this man is creepier than your Aunt Judith (that's a whole post in itself. your Aunt Judith is a real creepy bitch).

He had this to say on Xonline.com's Forums in regards to news that Britney Spears shaved her head.

I want to spread cream cheese all over that smooth head with a plastic spoon.

Ohhhhhh....yeahhhhh
February 17, 2007 9:32 AM
Posted by: Steven Sparkenickle

Perhaps it's more than horses he's been skinning. Using cream cheese as a moisturizer so that when he peels the flesh back he is less likely to tear it and ruin his church clothes. Sick. You make me sick Sparkenickle.

But on top of all this... Sparkenickle is also a hack. Stealing lines from others to use in his internet commentary on his meteoric rise to the top of Nerd Mountain.

The worst mistake he ever made was stealing a bit from Phil Hendrie, who had a nationally syndicated radio show where he would host conversations between himself and one of many characters which he voiced all while infuriating callers from the audiences and provoking them to embarassing themselves 5 nights a week 3 hours a night. A brilliant satirist in my opinion - and you really don't need another one.

The reason I bring him up is because he had one character called Doug Dannger who would always preface every inane and absurd argument he made with "I'm a gay man and a gay journalist..." to somehow lend credibility to whatever Phil was trying to say through the character.

It's funny when Phil does it... but not when some lard lathered, internet recluse from West Bumpgarten takes it out out of context to conquer his nerd peers with internet commenting prowess.

As a gay man and journalist, I find this story very interesting. Since when did the pages need to be protected from those that are supposed to be protecting us? Now we are going to in act new procedures to protect the pages from members of congress. What is going on with this country? As a gay man and journalist, I don’t understand those that chase anyone under 18. The law is very clear and every gay man knows.

Posted by: Steve Sparkenickle | Oct 6, 2006 2:54:01 AM

So on top of all the deviant behavior... you're also lame. Bravo S. Sparkenickle. Bravo.

Seriously Phil Hendrie is pretty awesome. Check him out at http://www.philhendrieshow.com/

Grandma's Really Enjoying that Milkshake

2007-03-16T11:46:00.000-07:00

In a recent attempt to clear the name of fast food products across the UK and Ireland. McDonald's UK has launched the website Make Up Your Own Mind. On this site you'll find all the questions you've ever wondered about McDonald's answered as candidly as you'd imagine.

Have fun with the McDonald's interactive questions posted by users after the jump...

I immediately went to check on the amount of fecal matter that's found in McDonald's meat and found that it's the first question that comes up when you search for meat. Lucky me. And trust me, they assure me that it's "100% beef, made from whole cuts of forequarter and flank similar to the mince you'd buy in the supermarket."

Further down the questions, however you find much more interesting questions all posed by readers, I remind you. "Why did someone find a chicken head in their food?" poses one reader. But dammit, some just want answers about what their food is. Another consumer, "I have seen with my own eyes the Croatian chicken you have used in the past for your chicken nuggets. The chicken is second rate and it's the carcass that is ground into a paste. Could you not use better quality?" Ok, Mr. Chicken Expert Man, what's so bad about Croatian chickens? I demand to see some credentials!

The real fun comes in when you search for "milkshakes."

Avoiding the questions about lard, people's daughters being allergic to strawberries and if the milkshakes have "chicken hooves" in them you might find a question like this one: "Why did your employees ejaculate into my grandmother's milkshake?"

McDonald's response: "Any rumors and stories about this sort of behaviour have never been found to be true and are regarded as urban myths. If McDonald's receive any allegations about bodily fluids in food these claims are fully investigated." I ask you this McDonald's, if you say they're "urban myths" why are you fully investigating them? Are you calling in those neat CSI guys to handle the job because something tells me you might compromise the crime scene with your dirty cover tricks.

So, take a gander at the new and improved McDonald's PR department. Ask questions and post the answers in the comments. It's time to have some fun messing with McDonald's UK

The Best of Wikipedia

2007-03-16T10:55:00.000-07:00

Wikipedia Falsely Reports Sinbad's Death

Wikipedia giveth, and Wikipedia taketh. That's the cruel lesson learned in today's installment of The Best of Wikipedia. While every major news source has scooped us for the headline, not a single one of them has the smarts nor the courage to tackle the true story of Sinbad's Wikipedia page.

The truth about Sinbad after the jump...

Sinbad is a man of many faces and names. Sometimes spelled Sindbad, Sunpadh, and Sex-Bad, Sinbad got his start working entertainment when studying the Avesta at the Zoroastrian temple in Yazd. A disagreement between him and the greater body of faith led to his expulsion, which really is for the better since the Zoroastrian church went bankrupt after investing heavily in cold fusion in the 1980's.

A glimpse of the future offered by Zoroaster
Later, Sinbad joined the navy, where he sailed the seven seas. He wrote some crappy books about it under the horrible pen name, Sinbad the Sailor. It earned him mountains of cash, but he missed his true love... family appropriate ethnic comedy. Fortunately Bill Cosby was wise enough to cast him as the goofy coach Walter Oakes on the soft-core erotica series, A Different World. Sinbad shocked the nation with his casual nudity and open bisexuality as he courted and conquered then entire cast of the show. Despite critical praise, the show was a flop, and Sinbad was once again unemployed.

Sinbad's in-your-face sexuality was too much for American audiences
Then Jingle All the Way happened, and the world was never the same. For you see, Jingle All the Way opened a cosmic portal through which a prophet was delivered to the world.

The Prophet
The Prophet later wrote and edited Sinbad's Wikipedia page, where a typo misled the public to believe Sinbad had died of a heart attack. What The Prophet meant was, Sinbad will die of a heart attack. And pretty soon. The time and place are fuzzy, but we do know he dies with a raging boner.

How to spot an asshole

2007-03-15T15:47:00.000-07:00

If you are a frequent reader of this page then you will know that we here writers live in LA. LA for the most part is a great city with beautiful women, perfect weather, and restuarants that feature food from all over the world. Of course there is one major drawback, the rather large asshole population.

Generally an asshole is really easy to spot but sometimes especially here in LA they can mask themselves within the general population. There is however one dead giveaway and that is a fondness for S. Pellegrino Sparkling Water.

Follow me after the jump for a brief history of Pellegrino's links with assholes.

Pellegrino was invented in Italy by Benito Mussolini in 1927 at a facist party mixer. Mussolini loved this drink so much that he even credited his sparkling water for leading his black shirts in victory over all of his polictical enemies.

When Mussolini was ultimately hung by his own people, Pellegrino production was temporarily banned. That was until actor and notorious asshole Charlie Chaplin was touring Italy as part of a USO tour when he uncovered some crates of the asshole juice.

Chaplin made millions bootlegging the bubbly water throughout Hollywood getting every major Hollywood asshole hooked. Large scale production of Pellegrino started up again in 1951.

Today notable Pellegrino drinkers/assholes include Bill O'Riely, Deleware Senator Joseph Biden, Comedian Bill Maher, Rosie O'Donell, Incredible Mr. Limpet Contributor Fatty Arbuckle, and this guy.

So as you walk the streets of your home town beware of the green bottle because it surely is being held by an asshole.

Separated At Birth

2007-03-14T15:24:00.000-07:00

For weeks now I've been watching this Nike commercial and I couldn't shake this nagging feeling that I'd seen one of the players before. The more I watched it, the more confounded I became. Luckily, due to a sweet photo spread of pro basketball players and the tang they pull I was able to arrive at a conclusion.

I'm fairly certain Shawn Marion and the fauno from "Pan's Labyrinth" were switched at birth.

I stand by my hypothesis, and humbly offer one more case of Separated At Birth after the jump.

This one's obscure, but I have an unabashed love for the 90's Duke teams. Eventually, JJ Redick taught me how to hate.

Irregardless: Cherokee Parks and obscure Bill Pullman role of Daryl Zero might have been separated at birth:

Smart Man Says He's God

2007-03-14T14:52:00.000-07:00

Where does the universe come from? If you like easy answers, credit God for existence as we know it, but if you're an intellectual like Mr. Feelings, you know to dig deeper. Thankfully the smartest man alive has done just that. Stephen Hawking, that guy in the wheelchair, is prepared to blow your mind with the scientific reason for everything. Here's the headline:

Stephen Hawking Says Universe Created from Nothing

Wait? That's it? There was nothing, then there was something? That sounds suspiciously like a form of creationism, except in place of god, we get Stephen Hawking, genius and literal sex-machine.

Well, I for one embrace Hawkingism. As far as deities go, Hawking is easily among the most kick ass. It's a well known fact that his wheel-chair is equiped with all kinds gadgets and weapons. How else could a man suffering extreme atrophy cause a domestic disturbance. He learned a valuable lesson that day. Never turn the spank-master past 7.

Also, Hawkingism has no sins. It's like Outback Steakhouse... No rules, just right. And unlike those invisible gods, we all know Hawking is real. Your prayers will never go unanswered. Just zip off an email or voice message and wait for Hawking's smooth computer voice to put all worries to rest.

And what does Hawking want in return for eternal enlightenment? Nothing but our gratitude, which we freely give. Gratitude, and of course first crack at our daughters. The man is a FREAK. He spreads his seed like a sunflower, but who am I to judge? He's really smart. Hawking "inspects" another member of the student body

Dear Pizza Hut,

2007-03-14T10:20:00.000-07:00

I am sitting here at my desk at work daydreaming of pizza (as I often do), I started to think of you Pizza Hut, but probably not as you might expect. Pizza Hut, you are the only pizzaria, which employs the use of the little plastic table dealios in your pizza boxes to keep the cheese from getting stuck to the top of the box. You are the only pie joint around that cares so much about the quality of its pizza that you take the extreme precaution against mere chance of cheese grazing the inside of the box. Pizza Hut, if you are so concerned with the quality of your pizza, I ask you this: Why is it that your pizza is so terrible?

I mean your pizza is BAD. I once stopped at one of your countryside huts on a road trip and it cost me three hours of travel time that I had to devote to babysitting the storm in my stomach, you so graciously brewed with your inferior ingredients. I have not looked forward to one of your pizzas since the days of Book It!, and even then it was the prospect of a fieldtrip to one of your red-roofed wonders, where I would be able to enter the kitchen and hand craft my own personal pie which got me so excited.

Pizza Hut, today’s pizza market is volatile with many competitors, and it is hard for me to tell you this, but every single one of those other pizzerias makes a better pie then you do. You are the bottom Pizza Hut, the very bottom. Even deep discount pizza places such as Valentino’s and Little Caesar’s (5 bucks for a large pepperoni? Can you believe it!) out shine your doughy crust and shameful cheese blend.

Stop kidding yourself. Do not waste another penny on a fancy piece of plastic to keep cardboard out of your cheese. That money could be better spent on more of your wacky gimmicks, may I suggest a caramel filled crust, or maybe owl pellets as a featured new topping. Know yourself pizza hut, and spend accordingly.

Your friend,

Fatty Arbuckle

Sheer, Unadulterated Madness

2007-03-13T16:57:00.000-07:00

For those of you readers out there who have been wondering where all the posts have gone we have one simple answer for you: it's March. You see College Basketball is now in full effect and our attention to things like blogging, working, bathing, eating, etc., have kind of fallen by the wayside.

Anyway to get ourselves hyped up even more I, Hats Bagelman and Nacho Friendly will be debating an age old question: "Would you rather win the NIT or lose in the first round of the NCAA Tournament?"

Like Natalie Imbruglia we are torn to find the right answer here. Follow us after the jump for our lively debate.

Howdy kids, Nacho Friendly here to lay down some sweet, sweet science. The long and the short of it is this: Americans love 'em a good retard. When we see someone of lesser physical or mental ability than ourselves succeed, we feel a sense of accomplishment right along with those goofy bastards. Oh I'm sorry, did I offend your delicate sensibilities? Well then, sire, I defy you not to laugh at Philip.

Mike Myers as Philip The Hyper-Hypo Kid | Send To Friends | Funny Videos at JibJab

When Philip breaks free of his (and society's) restraints he can achieve anything he puts his mind to. Especially if he has chocolate. The same holds true for the NIT tournament. The NIT is the the soft, downy blanket where we coddle those who were deemed not worthy of being called the best of the best. This is why, I feel, it's inherently better to win the NIT than to be embarassed on a national stage by the biggest bully on the playground. In America, when it comes to bruised egos, and crybabies, we like to make sure everybody gets a cookie, and the NIT Championship, is just that cookie.

"One of the first businesses of a sensible man is to know when he is beaten, and to leave off fighting at once."
Samuel Butler (1612-1680) British poet and satirist.

Oh hello it's Hats again. The reason I bring up this quote is because a British man said that and if there is one thing the British know it's losing. Which brings me to my point it's much better to lose in the first round than win the NIT.

Think of it this way can you name the last 5 NIT winners? Of course you can't but in the sporting world everyone remembers the 1996 UCLA team that lost to Princeton (small note: UGH).

I guess my point here you just want to be memorable. I mean people will never care about the NIT and in the end you are the 66th best basketball team in the nation, but if you lose especially in a spectacular fashion you don't waste away into nothingness you become the thing of legend. I guess it just boils down to this would you rather be Howard Dean or Michael Dukakis?

Dear Mr. Feelings...

2007-03-13T14:05:00.000-07:00

Time again for Mr. Feelings to dole out some wisdom. Today's letter comes from a reader in Seattle. Come feel with me!

Dear Mr. Feelings

I'm in trouble. My fiance loves cats and I'm afraid to tell her I'm allergic. Fortunately right now she doesn't have any but I know that once we move in together she's going to want to get one. How do I let her down?

Thanks,
Sneezy in Seattle

Real advice for the real world after the jump...

Dear Sneezy,

What do you mean you don't like kitties? They're cute, soft and warm. I don't understand you. You are unreasonable. Did your daddy rape you then blame it on the house cat? You're too far gone for me to help. Obviously crazy. Crazy people never like cats. Crazy and mean.

As far as your "allergies" go, kitten allergies are just a myth perpetuated by grumpies to deprive cat owners the greatest joy in life. To prove this falsehood, I live in a home where cat life outnumbers me 76 to 1. I haven't had so much as a sniffle in over 30 years. Cat urine is a natural antibiotic. Cat fur kills dust mites. Cat feces tastes of butterscotch and cardamom.

I'm shocked. How can you be so cruel? These are kitties we are talking about. Living, breathing, meowing bundles of love. I'm crying as I write this. I wouldn't piss on you if your head was on fire. I hope your fiance dumps you. I also hope you get a kitten shaped tumor in your heart. Maybe then you'll chose your words better.

Asshole.

Stop breathing and die.

Learn to love kittens.

I hate you.

Sincerely,
Mr. Feelings

Move over Barbaro, there's a new horse in town

2007-03-12T15:46:00.000-07:00

Pictured is the World Record holder crying into his bucket of slop
And he is god damn 6 foot 7 inches tall to the shoulder!

Yeah Barbaro broke a leg. Big deal. This horse (if you're to believe the comments which follow the story) is being tortured by travelling the world to show off his world record size.

The comments range from Mike in Baltimore

We should pray for the horse and its speedy return to a more suitable environment.

To S. Sparkenickle from West Bumpgarten's

What a beautiful coat he has.

If I wasn't sure that that was a fake name and that West Bumpgarten couldn't possibly be the name of a city on the face of the Earth, I'd wager that S. Sparkenickle would like to do unholy things to our fair Radar. Probably wants to use his giant skin for his horsey suit he's been making for years, which explains the missing horses from East Bumpgarten. Sicko.

If you're S. Sparkenickle and you're reading this post, know this: If I ever see you I'm gonna break your filthy pervert hands you bastard.

And as a final thought- I had a cat I named Radar once. It peed on a rug and then ran away for a couple years before coming back. I'm not sure if the two are connected, but I'll throw it out there.

Note: The cat was of average size and set no world records

What the hell did you click the jump for. Nothing more to see here, Dopey.
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I Am The Walrus

2007-03-12T14:21:00.000-07:00

You see that thing? That's a walrsus's penis. Elaborate, no?

I've got a lot in common with the walrus. Like me, walruses have only three natural enemies: humans, orca, and polar bears. Also, we both make adorable plush toys that can be bought for your children on your way back from that business trip where you brought Misty and Blake something and totally forgot about me. Dad.

Additionally, we both compete for the affection of our womenfolk in much the same manner. According to Wikipedia:

The males show off in the water for the females who view them from pack ice. Males compete with each other aggressively for this display-space; the winners in these fights breed with large numbers of females. Older male walruses frequently bear large scars from these bloody but rarely fatal battles.

Sounds about right. I mean, really it's just exchanging ice floes for beer pong. Don't be fooled though, there are some differences between me and the walrus. These differences can range from our appearance (they're majestic, while I'm mind-bogglingly attractive) to the fact that when we display our genitals, the response ranges from "threat of police action" (me) to "celebratory news item" (walrus). Man, as walrus penises go, that's impressive.

Follow us after the jump for further thoughts on walrus dong.

Sometimes it's hard to discern if someone's talking about a walrus, or me, when they're talking about genitals. According to Wikipedia, "A male walrus's penis is completely internal; however, it has one of the largest bacula (penis bones) of the animal kingdom." That's all well and good, but if he doesn't know how to use it, what good is it?

Offense wins games, defense wins championships.

This weekend, I found myself in fierce game of beirut aka beer pong. Everybody knows the way you win at the game is to toss a ping pong ball into a Solo cup of booze until the other team has no cups. What's equally important is how well you can distract the other team from tossing their ping pong balls into your cup. This is where I come in; I am the Dennis Rodman of Beirut. While I may not be terribly good at tossing balls into recepticles (insert joke here) I am highly-valued when it comes to defense. In short, I have little to no problem exposing my genitals in an attempt to distract the opposing team from making their toss. Oh sure, some may call it crass, but honestly, I don't see why we have to treat it any different than a walrus's. How come when I give the world a glimpse of The Behemoth everyone panics, but when a walrus does it, kids get their picture taken.

Doesn't seem fair to me. And I'm not going to take it lying down any more (...ladies.) I want it known from this day forth that no walrus is safe. I will hunt down any of you spotlight-stealing bastards. We used to be cool, walrus community, but now that I know that society treats me differently than you, your ass is mine. Your uppance hath come.

(Ed.'s note: there is photographic evidence of my defensive strategy out their on the web, but, as I see we've got some visitors to the site from Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and the United Arab Emirates, I'll refrain. Welcome though, and tell your friends!)

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Great Vote-a-thon of 2007!

2007-03-09T12:53:00.000-08:00

Time for a good ol' fashioned poll. You're going out of town. You own two dogs, a priceless 18th century French wig collection, a home recording studio, a pair of diamond studded eyeglasses autographed by Elton John, a gentleman's club complete with shake-dancers, and last but not least, a rocket car. You can't leave these items unattended, so you call your two best friends in the whole world:
Ron Artest

And...

Dame Edna
Between these two, who can trust with your most treasured possessions?

&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://polls.blogflux.com/poll-8449.html"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Take the poll&amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;lt;br /&amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;lt;br /&amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://polls.blogflux.com/"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Free Poll by Blog Flux&amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;gt;
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How Netflix Made Me a Better Man

2007-03-09T11:43:00.000-08:00

Oh, Netflix. You have so much to offer this world. The Moustache would like to personally thank you for guiding me to such glorious and great things.

Seriously, though, Netflix recently had a contest posted out to nerds across the country to work on their recommendation engine. The idea was the improve their algorithm or whatever sort of nerdy thing is used to determine what I like. I wouldn't know. I'm not a nerd. But yeah, some nerd helped things out, but it still doesn't make much sense.

Discover the intimate details of my Netflix recommendations after the jump...

So a couple of weeks ago I decided that I was going to check out this Extras that's all the rage with the kids. So I get my two discs of Ricky Gervais fun and excitement in the mail and am ready for my new awkward experience that I've been seriously been missing since The Office was removed from the British airwaves.

It was funny and everything I could hope for. I wanted more. Like a heroin junkie I requested for some recommendations based on my stellar review (5 stars, Ricky, if you're reading). As I waited for the consequences of my review to come across I was imagining all the British humour glory that was to be discovered, to be loved, to be laughed at. The recommendations came and, much to my surprise, what was recommended to me was Who Killed the Electric Car and When the Levee Broke.

Ok, Who Killed the Electric Car? could have easily been played off at a party with a simple phrase like, "Seriously, the electric car surviving? What a joke!" Then me and my rich conservative friends would have clinked our tumblers filled with scotch in triumph of another well played joke only to adjust our monacles afterward due to the steam created from laughing so hard.

But When the Levee Broke? Seriously? That's like, Netflix, being that friend that goes, "You want to laugh? Do you? LAUGH AT THIS YOU IGNORANT, SELF-INDULGENT ASSHOLE!!! Dead people would love to laugh, but they can't. You want to know why? Do you? Then rent this movie next time you tell me you want something funny."

It was then that I realized my ways. How I really don't care about others. How Spike Lee could show me how to care again about those less fortunate than me. I went on a soul searching trek, dear readers, all the way to my fridge. Which was empty.

Then someone farted and I giggled.

Cylon Made for Loving You Baby

2007-03-08T11:43:00.000-08:00

The South Korean government is currently drawing up a charter that will set ethical guidelines to prevent humans from abusing robots. Humans from abusing robots? Is not the whole point of robots to be abused? Rosie the robot was nothing more than a slave to Mr. J and the gang. The Terminator was only obeying his evil computer overlord. C3PO was made to be a translator and R2D2 was for… What was R2D2 for? The point is: if I build a robot, I should be able to do whatever the hell I want with it.

"Imagine if some people treat androids as if the machines were their wives," Park Hye-Young of the {South Korean} ministry's robot team told the AFP news agency.

Treating a robot like your wife is probably the best idea in the history of ideas. Think of it, she will look lovely forever, she will do nothing all day except maintain the house and maybe a little grocery shopping, and when you get tired of her just shut her off and stick her in the closet. I have been treating a toaster as if she was my wife for years, is the South Korean government going to set up a charter for the ethical treatment of kitchen appliances? I certainly hope not.

A robot is a thing and should be treated as such. The South Koreans should set their sights on anyone who creates a robot which is self-aware or has feelings. Anyone who makes a robot that appears to have feelings or is able to beg for its own life is an asshole, and should be stopped. No one wants to see a robot cry, so don’t build him with tear ducts, problem solved.

I leave you with this quote from the man who invented robot ethics, Mr. Isaac Asimov:

“Stupid, stupid, stupid maltifunctions robot who won’t even make a simple orange juice! I hate robots!”

Angelina Jolie's Guide to Starting Your Own Orphanage

2007-03-08T11:00:00.000-08:00

So, due to the recent press brought on by the new adoption of the always entertaining Jon Voight's daughter Angelina Jolie the Moustache thought he might inform you of the proper way to start your very own orphanage! It appears to be easy, but there are various intricacies involved in slowly build up your stock of children to pimp out to a celebrity public and have them do your bidding at your oversized house. Jolie's got it down to a well-oiled machine and for the first time ever reveals her secrets to the Moustache!

So follow the Moustache past the jump to learn how!

"You can see the defeat in their eyes and, if they look strong and healthy, those are usually the best ones to go for." -Angelina Jolie

Ok, first thing's first. Get yourself a big place to live in. The bigger the better because if you really want to commit to having your own orphanage of underprivileged kids from various third world nations you're gonna need the space. Don't worry, you will always be able to get the kids to clean, eat practically nothing (I recommend gruel or imitation gruel) and you're not going to want to sleep anywhere near their stinky, close-knit, bunk bed quarters.

Next, picking out the children you want. Don't get them all from one specific country. You don't want to blow your wad in one country and realize that the kids you got have the work ethic of a high school drug dealer. You want kids that are dreamy about America, filled with hope of what they can achieve, and then you crush those dreams making them the perfect little slaves you always wanted.

Composure while picking out your child is very important. You don't want to come on too strong, now. Walk casually among them, choose the three strongest looking ones to play with and, this is important, you must pretend like you're actually enjoying playing with these filthy bastards. Let out a laugh, hug them because you're going to have to convince the evil foreign master that you have good intentions. I do not recommend lining them up execution style and simply pointing out the one you want. Also remember that it is rude to check the child's mouth prior to purchasing.

Lastly, when you get back to America remember to talk copious amounts about how bad this child had it. Really play up that he had no mother, no father, and lived in way worse conditions than your tobacco plantation in the south where they'll be able to "play in the fields" and "learn valuable life skills."

One more thing, if it turns out the child has a father that wants him back, just talk shit about him and his home country. You're American, dammit, and you know your new little slave has it way better over here with you than with his biological drug dealing, AIDS infected father.