Posts Tagged ‘humor


Drugs are bad…for cats too

Apparently, this man didn’t get the memo. He stuffed his cat into a homemade bong in an attempt to get it to calm down.

Reports have the cat, named Shadow, eating all of the man’s Doritoes and Ho Hos while its owner made bail.


The Vast Right-Wing conspiracy begins

They must be signing the first bailout

They must be signing the first bailout


They even hate our beverages…

Whats next? Cereal? Toast? This must be stopped...

What's next? Cereal? Toast? This must be stopped...


Could Moonbats soon be endangered?

Hug a terrorist today!!

Hug a terrorist today!!;_ylt=AuVCYGY1tzmaQLZ2cIDHJyQazJV4


The power of Rainbows!

     Captain Planet used the power of the rainbow to save us from horrible industry! Hoorayyy!                                                                    


Get some

Roger Alpha Niner. I have in my sights. Confirming order to elliminate target

Roger Alpha Niner. I have in my sights. Confirming order to elliminate target

Can we hire this guy to find Bin Laden?


World’s Most Useless Superheroes #3: Northstar


     Why must writer’s ruin my favorite comic books by pandering to the most libertine demograph? 

Alpha Flight was cool, and it was created by my favorite comic artist/writer of all time: John Byrne. Back when it was cool to be a Canadian, the Canadian government established its own superhero team, Alpha Flight, which was constituted of the following heroes: Guardian (cool battle-suit), Sasquatch, Shaman, Puck, Snowbird, Vindicator, Marinna, Aurora (Northstar’s twin sister)…and Nortstar.

For one thing, as I’ve made clear in previous entries for this list, one of the things that I consider of prime importance in being a superhero of legitimate stature is the ability to score chicks. Northstar probably could have had more chicks than any other hero. But he blew it. Both metaphorically and physically.

First of all, Northstar was a down hill skier. Have you seen the woman those guys hang out with? It’s un-fricken-believable. He of course became board with the sport, dusting all of his competition because of his super-powers. Powers that don’t leave me too impressed. He can fly at about Mach 10, and can generate bursts of photons from his body, enabling him to blind his foes.

Wow. He’s a flying Mag-Light.

And he was pompous ass, too. Always walking around with a scowl on his face, sulking in the corner and throwing temper-tantrums.

Why so much existential angst? Why, he was gay, of course.

Of course.

So while Northstar pouted in his bedroom, watching the E Channel,Alpha Flight was off fighting for Canada’s socialized medicine program, crossing the Canadian-American border to buy cigarettes at Wal-Mart and leaving very small tips at diners.

For some reason, every time I see the Northstar character, I think of the song by the B-52s: Loveshack. It’s got to be the lead singer’s overt lisp. Geez, even Freddie Mercury could sing without sounding gay.

It gets better than that, though. After Jim Shooter, Marvel Comic’s Editor in Chief left, Alpha Flight’s writers were allowed to have Northstar come out of the closet. What followed may have been the biggest fiasco to ever be inked and word-ballooned onto paper. In a following issue of the comic book, Northstar was voted Canada’s most eligible bachelor. I can’t make this stuff up, True Believers.

Of course.

Then. Then, Alpha Flight’s writers, who must have all dressed very neatly themselves, had Northstar contract a mysterious disease. I wonder what horrible disease this could be? Had the Skrulls performed expiriments on Northstar as he slept naked on his satin sheets? Had Doctor Doom, while on a fishing trip in the northern wilds, thought it a good joke to send North Star one of those beefcake birthday cards, infected with smallpocks? Oh no. The disease was sooo mysterious, it was never revealed what it actually was.

I’ll leave it to Dana Carvey as The Church Lady, to investigate the nature of Northstar’s sickness:

Could it be....AIDS!?

Could it be....AIDS!?

Of course.

Nope. It was fairy sickness. Really. Northstar wasn’t gay, he was just a fairy. Not a fop–a Fae, with pointy ears. Not Oscar Wilde, but a creature like Oberon. And he was homesick. He wanted to go back to fairy-land. Not The Blue Oyster, but a realm of pastel colored flowers.

About this time, the whole character of Northstar was making me sicker than Boy George at a rifle range. His story is pointless, needlessly prurient. The character never did a thing to actually beat up bad guys, besides maybe offer a couple of one million watt candle-power bitch slaps. He was a whiner, sexually confused, and as this essay has shown–one of the most useless superheroes of all time.


Coffee gone wild…

Yesterday, I was walking through a German store with my friend, Annette. I wanted to buy some hiking boots or shoes for my future trips to Austria or Italy.

We crested the top of the escalator and gleaming before me was a coffee maker of astounding capacities.

Or so I’d assumed after seeing the listed price of 1800 Euros (About $2000). I blinked hard and regarded, again, the price tag.

“What’s this thing cost?” I asked Annette.

“Just what it says, right there”,  she said, as if asking if I were blind.

“Does it make sparks fly out of my ass?” I was really interested, now. “Does gold fall out of the spout? Naked women, maybe?”

“No, it makes coffee.”

Surely, the well-regarded German engineers had put something quite special on this machine for it to cost so much. I admit, it had buttons and spouts and all kinds of gadgetry sprouting from its cold, steel facing. But there must be something else, I thought.

Nope. Just coffee. Sure, I’d sell my left arm for a hot cup of Sparky Juice, but I don’t think my arm is worth $2000. Maybe $1500…


Repost: See: I do negotiate with terrorists.

To try to make ammends with pro-Hamas bloggers that are teaming in the blogosphere, I’m reposting a popular article of mine: Me making nice with militants.

Let the hate-mail resume…


Do women date down?

you know this guys got cash...
you know this guys got cash…

If her daddy’s rich, take her out for a meal. If her daddy’s poor, just do as you feel.~   In the Summer Time, Mungo Jerry

 I can’t help but notice the connection between having a beautiful girlfriend or wife and having money or power–or maybe just a nice car. (Expensive and fast, which equals money and power)

Men are considered jerks if we want a nice looking lady. We’re way out of line if we want sex. We’ve been told that sex is all we think about. Well ladies, I’m here to tell you, it is a big deal but it’s not all we think of. We think about football, video games, poker night, beer and sex. Oh–I already mentioned sex. Sorry. And beer, did I mention beer?

But maybe, just maybe, ladies, we use all of the things I’ve listed to sooth our wounded egos. See, a man pretty much defines himself by his woman (yep, we like our egos inflated by our women) and by his job. What’s really great is when you come home from a long day’s work and your woman comments on what a hard worker you are. It’s like two for one. Yea, I think our egos are hurt, because you gals can’t help but fall in love with guys who have money and power.

I walk around base here and when I see a pretty girl, I say “officer’s girl”. Sure enough when the guy turns around, he’s got captain’s bars on the front of his uniform.  I look away, so as not to be rude. (That’s not the way I roll.) Side note: Some guys say other guy’s girlfriends are fair game, they’re not married after all. Not me. Violates the Golden Rule.

End of digression.

But us Children of a Lesser God have little chance. I mean, head down to the local clubs here in Germany. You don’t see officers down there very often. They simply don’t have to be there. All they have to do is flash the rank, or rev the engine of their new BMW M5 a little louder as the smokin’ chick walks by. Maybe lean out his window: “How you doin'”?

I remember when I was in college, thinking the opposite of what I’m saying here. It seemed like some very regular looking guys with not a lot of money or much else, were able to score beautiful girlfriends. I see that much less now.

Oh, and looks and athleticism don’t matter much, either, unless those attributes bring the guy money and power. Money,money, money…

We see it in Hollywood too. When does an actress marry a guy who makes less money than her? maybe the bag-boy at Piggly Wiggly. He’s a really nice guy,I hear. Smart too. Working on his thesis in physics, about four-vector in relativity. Don’t ask me what that is. Give him a chance.

There’s this really degrading T-Shirt on It says: Fat Girls Try Harder, on its front. It’s degrading yes, but in some ways it’s true. People who feel they’re lacking in some areas try to make up for it in others. We could say, Broke guys with no influence try like fricken crazy.  I wouldn’t argue.

So maybe you should step outside your safe zone ladies. Give the guys driving Opels a chance. The guy at the gas pump who asks you out–don’t laugh at him when you drive away. He tries really hard.



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