A lot of people postulate that you can't fit your head into a cereal box, but I tried it, and you can't. That's called proof.
Need more proof? You cannot walk on hot coals. Your feet will hurt really bad and you'll have to jump off. I've tried it - not just a theory anymore.
If you try to put your head in a ceral box, it may make it, but not while maintaining the structural integrity of the box. Depends on the box. That's called a variable.
Need more proof? A grown man can no longer fit into a kitchen cabinet. He may think he can because he remembers doing it when he was a kid, but those cabinets are smaller now because you're bigger. That's not a theory, I've tried it!
Variable: he may be a very small man in stature. He may also be small in character, like, petty. But that's a different variable.
And all this stuff - I didn't try it just once. To be scientifically proven it has to be repeatable, so I did many, many trials over hours of field research. You certainly cannot fit your head in a full cereal box. Full means still containing all the cereal.
You cannot headbutt through a door. My door stands resolutely as proof to that, mocking me as we speak. You win this time, door!
I hate this weak human forehead. This isn't over, door!
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Cold Snow... Hot Pants!
from Amanda, based on the true events of www.catsthatlooklikehitler.com:
Cats with 'Staches: Glen (Own Wilson) is a bachelor with two best friends, his brother Ben (Luke Wilson) and his cat, Weiner Schnitzel. In order to attract more women, Glen decides to shave his hair to look like his cat who just happens to resemble a certain anti-Semitic German Leader [probably Hitler - ed.] Gene Hackman costars as Glen's kooky Jewish uncle, Motimer. Coming of age comedy.mine:
Hot Pants: Luke Wilson is a ski jock who falls for champion skier Kate Hudson. Owen makes him magical hotpants to win the competition and her heart. Buddy comedy/coming of age film.Man, the things they'd get into... Can you imagine the hilarity that would ensue with those two in a desert death camp?! Needless to say, there'd be boobs. African queen played by Kate Hudson. Gene Hackman can be the warlord.
Jugs: Luke and Owen Wilson go in search of the perfect boobs - coming of age, buddy-type comedy.
Tee-peeing the Sahara: College pranksters Luke and Owen Wilson get into trouble with a West African warlord when they steal his college's mascot and vandalize it. This one's a coming of age film, kind of a buddy comedy/total buddy comedy.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Thrift
I've been thinking pretty seriously of getting a Russian wife, but I think I'll wait for a 2 for 1 deal.
More GREAT Movie Ideas
From Ben Smith:
Mine:
So much talent wasted with these movies not being made. Mine, Ben's, and Luke and Owen Wilsons's.
Genocycle: Luke Wilson plays drifter-cum-brilliant warcrimes jurist in a pan-Saharan race to collect usb thumbdrives, each containing evidence to build his brilliant case. Owen Wilson stars as Twitter Celeb "@DustySparks". Gene Hackman reprises his role as brutal dictator "Cap-ee-tan Capatopos".
iCandy: Wealthy internet technologist Turk Igonicus (played by Owen Wilson) invents the first web-based taste-o-vision. His twisted pervert brother Gerand (played by Luke Wilson) trys to sell it as a smutty sex-toy. Gene Hackman stars as a loose-cannon patent officer Penn Dakari. Rated a hard PG-13.
Mine:
After The Bombs: Luke Wilson plays a by-the-book field medic in the war-ravaged town of Dresden. Owen is his incompetent male nurse. They both fall in love with the same victim, Kate Hudson. Historical buddy comedy/coming of age film.
So much talent wasted with these movies not being made. Mine, Ben's, and Luke and Owen Wilsons's.
A Few Words About the Internet
Somehow these ended up on google "buzz", my blog reports. It was not my intention. Is it so hard to believe I'm that stupid?
There's a video thing I could be using on this blog but I haven't figured it out. And boy would I like to. Oh, the videos you would see - a monkey pooping, a duck biting a baby, a guy getting hit in the nuts with a soup can, a guy getting hit in the nuts with a soccer ball, a guy getting hit in the nuts with a hockey puck who's not on the ice, a guy getting hit in the nuts with a fist during a boxing match, a guy getting hit in the nuts with a microwave his son drops, a guy getting hit in the nuts with a Bible - hard, a guy whose kid jumps on his nuts, a guy who steps on a rake, racking his nuts. More too.
And google buzz, what a confusing thing - not in how to use it, but why it's even there. They offered me a thing and I took it, and now look what happened. It's like when Adam took the apple from Eve but this is real. Not a fake made-up story only idiots believe.
It's like when Adam took the apple from Eve because it signals a great fall from grace. Now me and google buzz will forever be at odds. Just like man and God.
I really screwed up, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, ok? If you're judging me right now, stop. I can feel you judging me. Maybe that's my own self judgement.
No, I think everything I do is great.
There's a video thing I could be using on this blog but I haven't figured it out. And boy would I like to. Oh, the videos you would see - a monkey pooping, a duck biting a baby, a guy getting hit in the nuts with a soup can, a guy getting hit in the nuts with a soccer ball, a guy getting hit in the nuts with a hockey puck who's not on the ice, a guy getting hit in the nuts with a fist during a boxing match, a guy getting hit in the nuts with a microwave his son drops, a guy getting hit in the nuts with a Bible - hard, a guy whose kid jumps on his nuts, a guy who steps on a rake, racking his nuts. More too.
And google buzz, what a confusing thing - not in how to use it, but why it's even there. They offered me a thing and I took it, and now look what happened. It's like when Adam took the apple from Eve but this is real. Not a fake made-up story only idiots believe.
It's like when Adam took the apple from Eve because it signals a great fall from grace. Now me and google buzz will forever be at odds. Just like man and God.
I really screwed up, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, ok? If you're judging me right now, stop. I can feel you judging me. Maybe that's my own self judgement.
No, I think everything I do is great.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
History's Forgotten Mob
The townspeople came armed with torches and farming implements - pitchforks, shovels, a bunch of seeds, a farmer's love for his horse... The night was black and brisk but their passion burned, warming them, and illuminating their path like a torch. Also, they carried torches.
"Let's kill 'im!" one said. He was the leader, Jed Mobby.
"Yeahhhh!" they all agreed.
"Yeah!" some guy said, after everyone else had already said yeah. He had been chewing a bunch of jerky he made for the trip, so his mouth was full when everybody else said yeah, but then he finished, and then he said yeah.
Old Mr. Moneyhorder was in for a rude awakening. And I don't mean figuratively - like sometimes an alarming realization is called a rude awakening - this is not one of those. It was the middle of the night and he was literally about to be woken up, from sleeping, in a very impolite way, a rude way. So that's why I said he's in for a rude awakening.
"Get out here, Moneyhorder!" Jed screamed. He was pounding on the door, screaming himself horse, scratching his ass. He'd scratch when his hand got tired from pounding. It made it seem like he wasn't a wuss with a weak hand that couldn't handle pounding on things. "They'll think I'm just itchy," he thought. "Just itchy on my ass."
Mr. Moneyhorder woke up, terrified. He'd been having a great dream. It was about hoarding money. Quiveringly, he quivered under his covers.
"We know you're in there!" said Jed.
"Yeah!" Everybody agreed. "...Yeah!" somebody said a few seconds later, mouth full.
"And we're not leaving until we put your head on a stick!" Jed continued. Whoah, that's scary, right? Uproarious applause, even from the jerky guy. He was prepared this time.
It was a good old-fashioned unruly mob.
"Oh," Mr. Moneyhorder said as he quivered under his covers. "Good thing you said that," he thought sarcastically, "That saved you."
"You got till the count of three till we kick down this door!" Jed said. "1, 2..."
"Don't!" Mr. Moneyhorder interrupted. "Great, now they know you're in here," he thought. He didn't really think it was great. He was being sarcastic. "Oh, they probably knew that all along," he thought, admonishing himself.
The mob, for their part, were stunned. They hadn't actually planned on any communication.
"Why not?" Jed asked.
"Yeah?" echoed the jerky guy, way too late, with stuff in his mouth.
"Uh, because. ... I'm sorry."
A hush fell over the crowd. This had become a pensive mob, ruly even. They all murmered with different expressions of "Oh, I didn't think of that," or "Wow, maybe we're the bad guys here."
"Are you really sorry or are you just saying that?" Jed asked, admonishing him.
"I really am! Besides, if I wasn't, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference," Mr. Moneyhorder said. "I shouldn't've said that last part," he thought.
"That's true," the crowd murmered, along with, "Oh, well that's good," or, "Well that changes things," in response to him being sorry.
"You took all our money, and then you hoarded it!" accused Jed.
"I said I'm sorry."
"Oh, I forgot that," Jed said.
The crowd shook their heads at Jed, not in an angry way, just in a way that says, "That's old Jed." You know, kind of chummy. Some of them smiled.
"Let's be reasonable," pleaded Mr. Moneyhorder.
"That sounds good," said Jed. Everyone likes to be reasonable. The mob had become reasonable.
Mr. Moneyhorder had swindled all the farmers off the land their fathers and grandfathers had rightfully stolen from the Indians, and now, through a banking scheme, all their money. They had lived on that land for generations, killing Indians. Sometimes they'd rape some just because they could. Every once in a while they'd call a truce and then break it, just because they were cruel and they liked to see the look on the Indians' face. What shitty people. Still, they were smart enough to form a mob.
"Oh yeah - give us our land back!" Jed said, remembering that part.
"Eh, you made a deal."
The crowd groaned, seemingly agreeing "Yeah, we did. You got us there."
"Could we renege on that?"
"No."
The word "renege" sounds like a racial slur.
"Crap."
And that was the last of their exchange. The crowd darned their luck, turned around, and blew out their torches. One guy, who'd been swinging a medieval mace the whole time, stopped swinging his mace, which is hard because once those things get going, hoo boy, they've got a momentum all their own. Slowly, they all shuffled away, knowing that at the end of the day it's more important to be reasonable. Pretty honorable for a mob. Jed said sorry, but they all said it's alright because they were involved too. Don't fall on your sword. This isn't about placing blame. And luckily, they still all got to bed at a reasonable time. And that was the Great Reasonable Mob of 1827.
How do I, Ron Humanton, know about history? I read.
"Let's kill 'im!" one said. He was the leader, Jed Mobby.
"Yeahhhh!" they all agreed.
"Yeah!" some guy said, after everyone else had already said yeah. He had been chewing a bunch of jerky he made for the trip, so his mouth was full when everybody else said yeah, but then he finished, and then he said yeah.
Old Mr. Moneyhorder was in for a rude awakening. And I don't mean figuratively - like sometimes an alarming realization is called a rude awakening - this is not one of those. It was the middle of the night and he was literally about to be woken up, from sleeping, in a very impolite way, a rude way. So that's why I said he's in for a rude awakening.
"Get out here, Moneyhorder!" Jed screamed. He was pounding on the door, screaming himself horse, scratching his ass. He'd scratch when his hand got tired from pounding. It made it seem like he wasn't a wuss with a weak hand that couldn't handle pounding on things. "They'll think I'm just itchy," he thought. "Just itchy on my ass."
Mr. Moneyhorder woke up, terrified. He'd been having a great dream. It was about hoarding money. Quiveringly, he quivered under his covers.
"We know you're in there!" said Jed.
"Yeah!" Everybody agreed. "...Yeah!" somebody said a few seconds later, mouth full.
"And we're not leaving until we put your head on a stick!" Jed continued. Whoah, that's scary, right? Uproarious applause, even from the jerky guy. He was prepared this time.
It was a good old-fashioned unruly mob.
"Oh," Mr. Moneyhorder said as he quivered under his covers. "Good thing you said that," he thought sarcastically, "That saved you."
"You got till the count of three till we kick down this door!" Jed said. "1, 2..."
"Don't!" Mr. Moneyhorder interrupted. "Great, now they know you're in here," he thought. He didn't really think it was great. He was being sarcastic. "Oh, they probably knew that all along," he thought, admonishing himself.
The mob, for their part, were stunned. They hadn't actually planned on any communication.
"Why not?" Jed asked.
"Yeah?" echoed the jerky guy, way too late, with stuff in his mouth.
"Uh, because. ... I'm sorry."
A hush fell over the crowd. This had become a pensive mob, ruly even. They all murmered with different expressions of "Oh, I didn't think of that," or "Wow, maybe we're the bad guys here."
"Are you really sorry or are you just saying that?" Jed asked, admonishing him.
"I really am! Besides, if I wasn't, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference," Mr. Moneyhorder said. "I shouldn't've said that last part," he thought.
"That's true," the crowd murmered, along with, "Oh, well that's good," or, "Well that changes things," in response to him being sorry.
"You took all our money, and then you hoarded it!" accused Jed.
"I said I'm sorry."
"Oh, I forgot that," Jed said.
The crowd shook their heads at Jed, not in an angry way, just in a way that says, "That's old Jed." You know, kind of chummy. Some of them smiled.
"Let's be reasonable," pleaded Mr. Moneyhorder.
"That sounds good," said Jed. Everyone likes to be reasonable. The mob had become reasonable.
Mr. Moneyhorder had swindled all the farmers off the land their fathers and grandfathers had rightfully stolen from the Indians, and now, through a banking scheme, all their money. They had lived on that land for generations, killing Indians. Sometimes they'd rape some just because they could. Every once in a while they'd call a truce and then break it, just because they were cruel and they liked to see the look on the Indians' face. What shitty people. Still, they were smart enough to form a mob.
"Oh yeah - give us our land back!" Jed said, remembering that part.
"Eh, you made a deal."
The crowd groaned, seemingly agreeing "Yeah, we did. You got us there."
"Could we renege on that?"
"No."
The word "renege" sounds like a racial slur.
"Crap."
And that was the last of their exchange. The crowd darned their luck, turned around, and blew out their torches. One guy, who'd been swinging a medieval mace the whole time, stopped swinging his mace, which is hard because once those things get going, hoo boy, they've got a momentum all their own. Slowly, they all shuffled away, knowing that at the end of the day it's more important to be reasonable. Pretty honorable for a mob. Jed said sorry, but they all said it's alright because they were involved too. Don't fall on your sword. This isn't about placing blame. And luckily, they still all got to bed at a reasonable time. And that was the Great Reasonable Mob of 1827.
How do I, Ron Humanton, know about history? I read.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Dick Pond/Nonsense Totebag
I saw the best totebag today. A young lady was wearing it in addition to another totebag that was really a purse, but it was a really big purse, big enough to be called a totebag. The cool one said:
Where to start?! Have you ever seen a more incongruous mish-mash of phrases? (if so, please let me know. In totebag form.)
Let's start with word one - Reduce, written on her second tote bag. This tote bag gave her the ability to carry two totebags full of crap. Two! The only thing she's reducing is the amount of totebags she does not have.
Skipping ahead, past the other "eco" words, I'm gonna jump right to Dick Pond, because it's the best part. I thought this was a great gay vacation spot in Montana, and I was right. It's a pond in the shape of a dick in Montana. Montana - gay country.
It's also an athletics corporation/catalogue. The point is, Dick Pond. Clearly, Taint Lake was taken. Also a hot vacation spot.
My point is, Dick Pond. It's a real thing, and it's Dick Pond, and it's on a totebag. Dick Pond.
Reduce-Reuse-Recycle.
DICK POND
www.dickpondathletics.com
Where the shoe is always at a discount. (their emphasis not mine)
Where to start?! Have you ever seen a more incongruous mish-mash of phrases? (if so, please let me know. In totebag form.)
Let's start with word one - Reduce, written on her second tote bag. This tote bag gave her the ability to carry two totebags full of crap. Two! The only thing she's reducing is the amount of totebags she does not have.
Skipping ahead, past the other "eco" words, I'm gonna jump right to Dick Pond, because it's the best part. I thought this was a great gay vacation spot in Montana, and I was right. It's a pond in the shape of a dick in Montana. Montana - gay country.
It's also an athletics corporation/catalogue. The point is, Dick Pond. Clearly, Taint Lake was taken. Also a hot vacation spot.
My point is, Dick Pond. It's a real thing, and it's Dick Pond, and it's on a totebag. Dick Pond.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Everybody Kill Everybody
One of the few earthling humans I like has suffered. He was kicked in the head a bunch of times by strangers, other humans, just like me! What is it with you humans and kicking other people in the head? Kick your own heads!
They didn't even plan to eat him!
Anyway, my solution, though it may be clouded by anger, is called Everybody Kill Everybody. I don't think it's clouded by anger. If anything, it's clouded by science and rationality.
If everybody had killed everybody a long time ago we wouldn't have this problem. Or most other ones.
The more I think about, the more I realize you guys have a really hard time killing each other without damaging a whole lot of other stuff too. So fine, I'll to it. Just kick yourselves in the head for a while, I'll be there to finish you off soon.
I'm trying to think of a way to kill all humans by sticking plungers to their faces. Wouldn't that be funny?
They didn't even plan to eat him!
Anyway, my solution, though it may be clouded by anger, is called Everybody Kill Everybody. I don't think it's clouded by anger. If anything, it's clouded by science and rationality.
If everybody had killed everybody a long time ago we wouldn't have this problem. Or most other ones.
The more I think about, the more I realize you guys have a really hard time killing each other without damaging a whole lot of other stuff too. So fine, I'll to it. Just kick yourselves in the head for a while, I'll be there to finish you off soon.
I'm trying to think of a way to kill all humans by sticking plungers to their faces. Wouldn't that be funny?
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