Monday, June 30, 2008

Will the Real Oliver Perez Please Stand Up?


It's been said that Oliver Perez is eratic. That you never know which Ollie is going to show up to the ball park the night he's pitching: Good Ollie or fucking awful Ollie. Last night he pitched a gem of a game in which he allowed only 3 hits to a stacked Yankees lineup. His start before that we lost 11 - 0 to the worst team in the Majors. That's been his stigma since he was a young kid on the Pirates. Oliver was nice enough to sit down with me to try and clear the air. What follows is the actual transcription of the interview.

Pemulis: Hi Oliver, nice of you to sit with me.

Oliver Perez: Thang ju mang, eets gootu bee heer. I'm glat tu be hable to comb heer and cleer thee air.

P: Well that's great Ollie. What would you say to these critics who say your performance has been eratic at best - was last night's Oliver Perez the real one?

OP: Ay chingada! Hoos been talking that at me mang. Fuck theese maricons. Ollie don' leesten to this bushleague sheet. I will cut any of ju n*****s says sheet to me, ju stoopid fahcking deek.

P: [takes step back] Well put Ollie. Now of what would you say has been the area you've most needed to improve since having a great '07 season?

OP: Well, da's a goo queshun a'cuz songtines my arm hangle dropes down a leel too moch ang de heeters get thee heets off my bowl. Eeet makes me feel baid and I ham workeeng beary har with de peetching coach to make me throw thee bowl better.

P: Well that's reasonable. What was your take on the Willie Randolph firing? Do you think now that the cloud of his job status is gone, the team can focus more easily on just playing and winning?

OP: Weelie was a no good comb guzzleeng sheet for brains n***** mang! Foke dat stupit mothafucka in the eye mang. Jayry - he my guy mang. Ang no more Peterlicker neither. Dat one one foking crazy caballero. And why dih no half side burnce? What a crasey louking cabron. Juan time I went to heece houce ang heed under his bed ang when he wake up to go tage a shit I cut dey foke out his hankles. Slit those fucks from heer to heer. Zen yoself up some stitches, cholo. Don't you know I'm LOCO esse?

P: [nervously] I do now, Ollie! So what else do you want people out there to know about you that makes you the wonderful person we all know and love?

OP: Da's a beary nice theeng hof ju to say mang. Ollie ees just like to throw thee ball, ang songtines heet thee ball when he come to plate. Ollie half 3 cats he like to pet ang take care of. Theys names Stoncipher, Jufos, ang Wrestlemaneea. I loaf those cats mang.

P: That sounds lovely! As a blogger, I have to ask: any websites out there you really like, or any blogs or internet phenomena you really enjoy?

OP: N******* foke jo eenternet. I play bowl to ween the woral series. I don half tine to look at the internet for sheet ju fokesheet. One tyng Ramon Castro try to have me watch 2 girls juan cope but I shoafed a broomhandle down hees throat ang he shat wood cheeps for week ang landed on the disables leest.

P: Well, that's great Oliver! Thanks so much for taking the time!

OP: I halso greatly henjoy kids in the sandbox. Thank ju beary much for hintairviewink me.

Oldies But Goodies: America, We Stand As One

I remember watching this in college thinking: Man, some day I hope I'm at work and bored enough to post this hilarious video on my website.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Point/Counterpoint: A Berbalerbs/Pemulis Collabo

Latest Updates 6/29

In the spirit of Mya, Blackstreet Ma$e and some other black dude coming together to create something magical, "Terrible" Pemulis and I "Soon to be edited by him into something really insulting" Mike Berbles are teaming up to give YOU, our loyal fans (which, come to think of it consist of Pem and myself) a little Collabo of our own: "POINT/COUNTERPOINT" or "A More Creative Title That I Was Too Lazy To Come Up With"

I shall begin as such:
Berbalerbs: POINT - The New York Baseball Metropolitans should, I repeat SHOULD sign Barry "I have the greatest disparity in head size/balls size in the history of humanity" Bonds to play for the rest of the 2008 season.

Let me begin by saying if Barry Bonds fell down the stairs and I was there to witness it, I'd high-five whoever was standing next to me and start laughing uncontrollably. I don't like him. I don't like his "shit don't stink" attitude. I don't like his little "Dat Wudn't Nuttin" look he gives after hitting a homerun. I don't like the fact that he has the GAYEST voice in professional sports and still makes me look like a little girl. Ok, second gayest voice...

All that being said, I don't like Scott Schoeneweis. I don't like his face. Really, that's the reason I don't like him. His face looks like a dickhead. I mean, not literally like a dickhead, but...actually, yea, his face does kinda look like the tip of a penis.

Regardless, I like it when he comes into a game and pitches a 1-2-3 inning. Just like every single Mets fan would love the shit out of that "Dat Wudn't Nuttin" look if Barry were giving it after launching one out of Shea off some nameless Nationals starter.

I don't care if he hobbles his ass around Shea like an autistic car victim. I don't care if he's quoted every morning in the Post saying "New York is like, 1000% gayer than San Francisco." THE GUY CAN STILL HIT. Hate him from now until Judgement Day, the dude can see the ball better than almost anyone in the history of the game. Oh, and let's see here...where's a position that doesn't require a whole lot of movement that is currently manned by a useless piece of shit...hmmmmmm....I wonder....

Go 'head, Penisless. Hit me with your best shot, y'lil BITCH.

COUNTERPOINT: The Mets should under no circumstances sign Barold J Bonds.

This is actually a tough call, because I do understand that his OPS last season was like, over 1. I also understand that his agent has been saying he'd play for the league minimum so there's no huge financial risk. Ha! actually, it's not a tough call at all. In fact, it's so obvious that they shouldn't sign him, I just gave you two great arguments, fuck-o! That's how in the bag I've got this shit.

First though, before I argue my case, I want to go back to what berbles said about Scotty Big Show. While you read berbles arguments, please note that the real reason he dislikes Schoeneweis is because berbles is an anti semite and hates anyone with more balls than him (Scott's only got the one).

Moving right along. I'm not sure if you folks are aware of this. But Barshall K. Bondsworth is a bit of a distraction. He tends to bring a media circus with him wherever he goes. Here in New York, the media can be a little brutal. I'll bring your attention to a little known episode that happened here recently when our manager, William Rutherford Randolph, was rumoured to be losing his job. If you recall, it was borderline manic. Media saturation wise. Now, try and imagine the biggest, most devisive player in the history of sports playing with that media. No thanks!

Reason number the 2, and this goes pretty well hand in hand with my first point: The fans would hate the shit out of him. Can you imagine how unbearable Mets game will be if he's on that team? It's brutal enough now will everyone booing everything that happens, and let's face it: most Met fans are turning into the type of asshole Yankee fans I hate, in terms of insufferability.

Next: We already have a decrepit left fielder over the age of forty who definitely. took. steroids.
(something tells me B-Bo would refuse to move to first base. And that something rhymes with Menormous Mego)

This brings me to my next point: this team needs to get older like I need another herpes outbreak. Wright and Reyes are the only guys starting who are under the age of 30. Their median age has to be like, 34. The Mets are almost old enough to start Lemon Partying.

Lastly, would you want to win the world series with him on this team? Wouldn't that make you feel dirty? But not in the good way, obvi. Seeing him on the field would sully the championship for me. Maybe not as bad as this:

but it would still be a let down.

Your move, shitfuck.

COUNTER-ER POINT: It is generally a good thing to score runs, as a baseball team. Barry Bonds has been known to score said runs. The 2008 Mets have not. And Pemulis looks like he got face-fucked by the ugly dildo. By Berbalerbs

Ok, let's get one thing straight: I didn't write disparaging remarks about Scott Schoeneweis because he's a Jew. I didn't even know he was Jewish (although in retrospect it's kinda a "duh" moment for me...I mean, Scott is totally a JewMonicker). I really stand by my comment that his face belongs on this poster:

Ok, on to putting the smack down on PemuBITCH (hah! cuz, see, it's like his blog name, but instead of "is" I put "bitch" cuz they sorta rhyme and bitch is insulting)...

While I'll concede that Barry "Flack Seed DEEZ NUTS" Bonds would create the possibility for a HUGE distraction, let me tell you what quells crises created by the shitstain tabloids in New York: winning. One popular method of winning? Scoring more runs than the opposing team.

Had the 2008 Mets not crashed and burned so often and in such delightfully terrible ways, there would've been no nit-picking of Willie's coaching methods or favoritism, and he could've held a press conference and said, "I bet the Wilpons say the word n***** like, ALL THE TIME" and he'd still be the coach for the Mets. He wouldn't have had to do a DAMNED thing differently and he'd be the Met's "strong stoic leader" instead of "a dude who looks like perfected sleeping standing up."

Honestly I'd fucking love a NY Post Headline that reads "Mets Think Bonds is an Asshole, Win 7th Straight."

Much like Pem's Reason #2 goes hand in hand (like 2 gayboys prancing) with his Reason #1, my second rebuttal double-teams 'Ulis like this one video I saw on RedTube.

Yea, the fans would be out of fucking control if Barry joined the team. They'd boo, they'd make really unclever signs, they'd do all kinds of other douchebag things...

Until he started driving in runs. And the Mets started winning more games.

New York fans don't care about anything more than winning. Michael Strahan says he doesn't need to show up for Pre-Season? Fuck him, that no-good fucking Prick. Oh, wait, the Giants won the Superbowl in part because Strahan put Tom Brady's face in his taint? Give that prick a key to the city!

And honestly, what's the alternative? If they stay on the course they're on right now, the booing will increase and increase until it starts to get quieter...the reason it will start to get quieter? Fans will stop giving a shit either way about this team.

And yes, let's talk about Moises "he still plays baseball? for what team?" Alou.

Pem, you're talking about him like he's actually on the team, like he'd platoon with Bonds and make the people in the left field bleachers think every day was Old Timer's Day. I'll even agree with you...we DON'T need another decrepit left fielder who juiced...however...we DO need a left fielder who at least contributes to the team's offense in any way at all. On today (dude must've known I was going to be smackin you around like you owe me money), there is an article on the Met's complete lack of offensive production. Here's a nice little tidbit to suck on, COCKFACE:

Meanwhile, Damion Easley, Marlon Anderson, Endy Chavez, Trot Nixon, Fernando Tatis, Moises Alou and Angel Pagan have all played left field for the Mets this season.
Together, making one left fielder, they have hit .184 with two home runs and 30 RBI, good for worst in the National League.

EAT IT!!! Bonds could have the worst season of his career and still end with a better line than the Transformer-with-down-syndrome of a left fielder we've had so far this year.

And let me clue our readers who may not know you personally (aka no one) on a little something:

Michael Allouicious Buttsuck Pemulis is the type of crotchety Mets fan that would rather see the team lose playing how he sees fit than win playing contrary to some of his baseball beliefs.

Would I really want to win the World Series with Bonds on my team? Would I really like to see the Mets make a near-miraculous turn-around from being an underperforming team without any spark to being the 2008 World Champions of Baseball if it meant Barry "I actually had another kid but I ate his marrow to give me more power to right field" Bonds would be part of the team?


And although you'd never admit it, Pem, you fucking would too.

And yea, the team's old as fuck. I might be able to make an eensy weensy exception for the All Time Home Run King.

Put that in your syringe and stick it, bitch.

COUNTER-EST POINT: If you think Barry Bonds presence would solve all the Mets problems and he would triumphantly lead the team to several game winning streaks, you are retarded.

So Mr. Outie Belly Button Looking Weiner decides to attack my arguments by saying that somehow, placing an oft hurt, much maligned, 'roided up egomaniac will save the Mets. Here's why Goblin boy is wrong.

Things Bartholorry Q. Bondington cannot do:

Prevent Johan Santana from giving up homeruns.

Make Carlos Delgado not be old and sucky.

Make Luis Castillo not slap the ball to a middle infielder.

Make Ryan Church not hit his head too hard.

Make the team bench OPS above like, 500.

Make the bullpen's VORP positive rather then negative (save for b wags, natch).

Make Beralerbs remotely fuckable to anyone with half an eye.

So in closing. Yes, Barry Bonds would be a good offensive addition to the team for the remainder of this season. Would he be able to get them into the playoffs and win a championship? Highly doubtful. If we make the playoffs this season its going to be a "wow it's nice to be here" type run and this team is going to be imploded in the off season if not before the trading deadline. We're going to be rebuilding, and bringing Grampa 'Roidy McCircus Sideshow will do nothing but bring unwanted annoyances. We just signed Andy Fucking Phillips for fucks sake. You're telling me a part time outfielder who will get a lot of walks and hit pretty well is going to solve all our problems? You're as dumb as you are ugly.

In closing: the end.

I win. Slather that on my dong and eat it, choda boy.

CUNT-ER-POINT: The Concession  

The point of this post is both to apologize and concede to an individual superior to me in every conceivable way. The blogger known worldwide only as Pemulis, or, in some circles, Pem "tell your girl to stop calling me" ulis has beaten me. 

My claim that if the Mets signed Barry Bonds, they would immediately improve in every aspect of their play and eventually go on to win the World Series without a shadow of a doubt has been proved incorrect. Now, I present my official concession and apology...









I was doing something something referred to in matters of discourse as "answering a fucking question, you Gaylord."

Let's take a look at where the words "world" and "series" were first used consecutively in this post...

Lastly, would you want to win the World Series with him (Barry) on your team?

You asked me if I’d really want to see the Mets win a World Series if Barry was on the team. I said yes, I’d have no problem with a World Championship Team with Barry “My balls are still bigger than Pem’s” Bonds on the roster. 

What a clever little trick, Pem (I’m hoping it’s a trick, because if you really remember this debate being whether or not Barry is a cureall ticket to the World Series, the cancer has spread from your asshole to your brain quicker than the doctors thought). 

You brilliantly setup a semantic trap... “Would you want the Mets to win the World Series with Bonds on the roster?” “Why yes, yes I would.” “What, you think Bonds would single-handedly bring the Mets to a World Championship? That’s stupid. I win!”r>iv>

Maybe you'd fool this guy, but I ain't him.

The question of this point/counterpoint, to remind you Pem, was should the Mets sign Barry Bonds for the rest of the 2008 season. 

That’s it. Not “will Barry bring the Mets to the postseason on a golden Chariot pulled by strippers amid a money rainstorm created by Pac Man Jones.” Not “is signing Barry Bonds the only thing the Mets need to do to make the team a championship contender,” just should the Mets sign Barry.

Yes, yes they should sign Barry. We don’t have a left fielder who can provide ANY offense. At all. We need one. 

What we DON’T need to do is give up prospects for one. Or shell out a shitload of money for one. I’m not saying Barry would be the greatest LF in the National League, but I AM saying that he is an ideal, no risk solution to one of the Mets' MAJOR problems.

I made the claim that if Bonds were on the team, the Mets would win more games. I made that claim because I believe it. The 2008 Mets haven’t been getting blown out all that often. It’s been a lot of acceptable pitching performances combined with shitty, Little League style offensive showings. As of 1:00 PM on June 29th the Mets have scored 375 runs, while allowing 378. That’s why they’re a mediocre team, not a basement-bottom terrible team.

Based on Barry’s 2007 numbers, he would’ve hypothetically had about 37 runs scored, 33 RBIs and 14 home runs and an average around .275. Oh, yeah, and over 60 walks. If you really don’t think plugging him in this roster would’ve helped us win some of the 1-run games we lost this season (our record is 7-11 in those games) you’re a mental invalid. 

And some games is the difference between us being in third place and first place. I mean, after a quick start, the Phillies haven’t exactly been making us put together 10 game winning streaks to stay in this race.

Ok, now that I've smacked Pem in the face with my dick so many times that both my dick and his face are numb, let's revisit a few of those "gems" that Barry Bonds wouldn't be able to help if he joined the team...

Prevent Johan Santana from giving up homeruns.

Wow, Pem, I think you nailed it, here. I completely agree that one of the MAJOR problems on the Mets is Johan Santana's pitching performance. I mean, his the homers he's given up has put his ERA to a STAGGERINGLY TERRIBLE 3.01, which is, by the bye the best ERA for a Mets starting pitcher so far this year. Sorry he hasn't pitched the 5 no-hitters that you apparently expected from him in this first 1/2 of a season with the Mets. 

Make Carlos Delgado not be old and sucky.
Make Luis Castillo not slap the ball to the middle infielder.

What're those two things detrimental to...hmmm, let me think...oh yeah, the OFFENSE. Which is EXACTLY what Barry would help to improve.

Make Ryan Church not hit his head too hard.
Make the bullpen's VORP positive rather than negative.

GREAT arguments. Signing a power-hitting left fielder WON'T undo injuries or improve our bullpen. You REALLY got me there. 

Make Berbalerbs remotely fuckable to anyone with half an eye.

...ok, granted. 

Oh and by the way, while they are probably going to undergo a big ole’ re-haul in the off-season, the Mets aren’t going to be “imploded” by the trade deadline, you fucking simpleton. Yea, they’re playing shitty…but they’re playing shitty in a shitty fucking division. They are 4 games behind 1st place with a HALF OF A FUCKING SEASON LEFT TO PLAY.

I’m glad you’re ready to call it quits and cry into your beer, but me personally, I think it’s quite possible to make a comeback from a MONSTEROUS 4 game deficit, even though we only have, like 80 FUCKING GAMES LEFT TO PLAY. 

I swear, Pem, I think you like the off-season and spring training better so that you can make speculations and bitch about trade moves without having to deal with actual baseball. That is what being a baseball fan is about, right?

In closing, Barry Bonds wouldn't guarantee a World Championship. He wouldn't fix everything wrong with the '08 Mets. He WOULD, however be a SHITLOAD of potential plus and almost NO negative. Oh, wait, he'd be what Pem said was an "annoyance." And we wouldn't want a bunch of guys getting paid millions of dollars to play a children's game to be annoyed. God forbid. 

That's all. Oh, wait one last thing: Tell yo mamma to stop calling me. The panties she left here are mines. She ain't getting them back.

COUNTRAPOINT: So regardless of our postseason chances, we should sign Barry Bonds.  Brilliant (said like the Guiness guys).

So I somehow semantically trapped berbles into seeming to say that Barry Bonds would fly in on Feathers or Cadillac or Tom Cruise and lead the team singlehandedly to the 2008 World Series Championship.  

This is inaccurate to say the least

So, let's peep what you "wrote" (if that is your real name):

The question of this point/counterpoint, to remind you Pem, was should the Mets sign Barry Bonds for the rest of the 2008 season.

That’s it. Not “will Barry bring the Mets to the postseason on a golden Chariot pulled by strippers amid a money rainstorm created by Pac Man Jones.” Not “is signing Barry Bonds the only thing the Mets need to do to make the team a championship contender,” just should the Mets sign Barry.

So, we should sign Barry because he will undoubtedly (even though he hasn't played in a year, even though he's 45, even though for some reason no team is even entertaining the idea of signing him) help the team offensively.  Great.  So what?  If we're not signing him because we think he would help get us over an edge to World Series contenders, there's no point.  We're not going to sign him to a 3 year deal.  His trial for perjury (which would also I'm sure be little more than an annoyance to both the players of kid's games and FANS) starts in March.  He's a rental.  That's why I listed the things he can't do (aside from getting you laid by something other than Gilbert Grapes  He's not going to do anything but provide a little bit of extra offense to a team that has no idea what it wants to be and that isn't going anywhere but sellersville.  Please, beerballs, go on:

Oh and by the way, while they are probably going to undergo a big ole’ re-haul in the off-season, the Mets aren’t going to be “imploded” by the trade deadline, you fucking simpleton. Yea, they’re playing shitty…but they’re playing shitty in a shitty fucking division. They are 4 games behind 1st place with a HALF OF A FUCKING SEASON LEFT TO PLAY.

I’m glad you’re ready to call it quits and cry into your beer, but me personally, I think it’s quite possible to make a comeback from a MONSTEROUS 4 game deficit, even though we only have, like 80 FUCKING GAMES LEFT TO PLAY.

You see, to those of us who were Mets fans since before 2004 or 2005, we know better.  This is like when hearing that Victor Zambrano is going to come around or something (Zambrano was the pitcher we got for Scott Kazmir - during the Steve Phillips Era.  He used to be GM of the Mets, which means there's obviously a quota of retards MLB needs to hire as GM, which means you've got a shot!).  Us actual Met fans are not so naive.  The Ace up Minaya's sleeve is probably signing some journeyman Latin player who is going to suck.  Not that that's Minaya's thing or anything.  Seriously, Wright and Church are the token white guys on Los Mets.  How did that happen?

Look. You being cocksnot and idiotic aside.  Here's why people are generally so torn on this issue:  Barry Bonds is like Hitler's Black Cousin.  There. I said it.  Sure maybe he'd help you win a mission or two, but eventually he's going to fuck himself over in Russia.

Check. Mate.

Honestly,  after having read Game of Shadows, and having read Love Me Hate Me: The Making of an Anti-Hero, there is just no way I could ever bring myself to root for Barry Bonds.  I don't know if maybe I hadn't read those books and found out what a completely awful person he was, I would have it in me to want him on my team.  As it stands right now, I am so happy that he has never won a world series, I wouldn't know what to do if he were up with the chance to win the world series for the Mets.  It would be such a weird, shitty feeling to be torn about my team winning the world series (which by the way is the point of bringing people on to your team, which would be why one would be asked whether one should sign a person, dickshit) where I'm genuinely sickened by a persons presence.  

Naturally my counter debater here hasn't read either book since neither one is in the Monster at the end of this book series,  but I won't fault him for that.  Those books are fucking DOPE.

I think that's really the heart of this argument and why it will never be resolved.  I'm like Israel to your Palestine. (Israel's the awesome one, right?)  Though I am going to lend you "Love Me Hate Me" and will then follow up and see if your tune has changed.  Because the depth of his cockgoblin-ness knows no bounds - I'm sure you can relate.

So there's my half assed attempt to bring this shit show to a close without having declared anyone winner.  Yes he could help the team but I don't think its worth it for reasons x and y.  Yes he would help the team and you do think its worth is for reasons crap and shit.  In the end, the only real winner here is testicular cancer awareness (and me - though my victory is unrelated to the nut cancer thing).  Please, give generously.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

When I Agreed To Donate My Body To Science, This Isn't Quite What I Had In Mind

Or is it?

Pushing the boundaries of science, researchers injected dye and latex into 14 cadavers to find the boundaries of four deeply seated facial fat compartments. All in the interest of making you more beautiful, of course.

Seriously? Isn't there cancer to be cured? This is what scientists are doing? You go to med school for 8 years so you can fuck around with dead bodies to make peoples cheeks fatter? This is why other countries hate us.

The research revealed that volume loss in those fat compartments results in the hollow
look of aging, the researchers say.

Hey fat face! You look so young!

So, could pumping up those compartments make you look like, say, Angelina Jolie?

OOOOOOOOOOhhhh, I don't know could it?! Tell me more about your experiments on dead people's faces How pretty will it make me?!!!!!!

"Cheeks are vital to what
we consider beautiful — from chubby-cheeked infants to Hollywood stars like Angelina Jolie," said study co-author Joel Pessa of University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center. "This research breaks new ground by identifying the boundaries of specific fat compartments that are key to facial rejuvenation involving the cheeks, and as a consequence, the overall look of the face."

Oooooooh! Make me look like a chubby faced infant! God forbid I look my age! Thanks science! I'm Angelina Jolie! OUTTA MY WAY!!!!!

But wait! There's more.

But wait, there's more.

"Restoring these compartments also improves volume loss under the eyes, helps eliminate lines around the nose and mouth and gives more curve to the upper lip, all of which restore a more youthful appearance to the face," according to a statement from the center.

Thank Christ for the Texas Southwestern Medical Center, which is I believe the sister center to
Hollywood Upstairs Medical College. These nice men are here to help you, liney face.

By now, you're either looking for a place to sign up or you are chuckling at the cheekiness of it all.


But the study is part of a booming business in "injectable fillers," the artificial and sometimes natural stuff that "can plump thin lips, enhance shallow contours, soften facial creases and wrinkles, or improve the appearance of recessed scars," according to the American Society of Plastic Surgeons (ASPS).

Note to self: get into the injectable fillers business. Injectable Fillers: The new pogs? Ron Popeil was so ahead of his time.

Fat is big these days, and
getting bigger. Plastic surgeons did 47,000 fat injections in 2007 and 1.1 million injections with "hyaluronic acid," which the ASPS says is "a natural substance found in our bodies that is well suited to plump thin lips and fill facial creases." It's in skin, cartilage and other tissue, and the FDA approves it as an injectable filler.

"You look so youthful, is that fat and hyaluronic acid?" Doesn't the FDA have more important shit to do than determine whether the shit you're injecting into your face is safe? It would be awesome if they were just like, "Fuck it; If you're dumb enough to get fat and acid injected into your face, who are we to tell you whether or not it's safe."

Among the targets for all this plumping are men, who, according to a December 2007 study in the journal Dermatologic Therapy, are "more timid" about procedures for facial rejuvenation. "Only with the advent of minimally invasive procedures such as Botox and fillers have men begun to participate in cosmetic treatments," the researchers of that study wrote. What do men want with injectable fillers? Wrinkle ablation, volumization and sculpting facial contours.

Oh, men are dabbling in idiocy as well? You don't say.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Two Reasons I Miss Living in The Bronx

The Mets broadcasting network, SNY, shows maybe 50% local advertising during all of their commercial breaks. Living in Westchester now, I am treated to such greatness as:

This commercial is about 100 times better and more thought out than Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.

However, I lived in the Woodlawn area of the Bronx for a while, and didn't realize how good I had it, local commercials-wise, until it was too late. Never again during a Mets game will I be serenaded by Super Dave and his Wireless World minions:

Nor will I ever again hear the sweet sounds of the folks at North End Liquors telling me how to get my parties started right:

Though, as long as cablevision keeps celebrating its brilliant triple play package, all will be right with the world...

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

God Shows Face To World, Gets Arrested

the face of god

God has come back to earth, and his destination of choice is: Tampa Florida. Makes sense, nice and warm, pretty big party scene. Sounds like a good time. But it sounds like God maybe got a little carried away... and it wasn't even His first time..

Police said a man named God was arrested near a Tampa church for selling cocaine.

Seems like a weird choice for God. You'd think he's maybe do something more charitable to get his name back in the papers and the mouths of the people. Like give cocaine away for free. God knows you cant take your money into heaven.

...I tell you the truth, it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a
camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. Matthew 19:24

See? Now give me some nose candy! I need some kizzy up my nizzy! I need to get high like a

Authorities began investigating God Lucky Howard in April, and he was arrested on Saturday.

I didn't even realize dude had a last name! Let alone a middle name. So I guess the H
in Jesus H Christ is like, his maiden name? For Howard? But he took his mom's last name (Christ) when he came to earth? Speaking of Mary Christ, I should visit God in jail and ask him the significance of the appearance of his mother on my toast!

Police said he sold the cocaine to undercover detectives in h
is neighborhood. When officers searched his home, they reported finding 22 grams more of cocaine and a scale.

When interviewed from prison, God spaketh: I was testing these officers, testing them to see if they were truly dedicated to the police force. Dedicated enough to turn in God himself. I then also tested them on their math, focusing on the metric system using grams as opposed to ounces and pounds. They passed both tests with flying colors. I am currently in the process of testing the worthiness of my cellmate. His afterlife shall be determined by the quality of the Jenkem we are in the process of making.

He was being held on a bond of $86,500.

Awful and obvious God jokes aside, what I've always wondered is this: Let's say you are arrested for selling cocaine to undercover cops. They take you to jail and you are held on a bond of let's say $86,500. If you have like, 200 grand on your person when you are arrested, can you use that money to pay your bail? Or is that money taken away since it was probably ill-gotten to begin with, or is it put in an envelope with ones other possessions. I also have no idea how I might find out the answer to this question, since I know no one who is either has that much money or is a felon.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Poor Luke

song chart memes
via graphjam

And for all you even huger nerds out there: I guess all Luke can say is "Thank God (the force?) for Mara Jade." Am I right or what!??

/kills self

no. no.. no...

/encases self in carbonite.

ok, now

/kills self

Friday, June 20, 2008

"The Last Thing Your Feet Hear Before They Die PART 2" or "Make it RAIN on Dose Nucky Hos"

As we last left our intrepid hero in Part 1, he was winging his way to British Columbia with Pac Man Jones, Ricky Williams, and some hot chick named Manuela to find out why so many 'Nucky feet were washing up on the shore, and if one of those feet was Manuela's husband.

2 AM, at the "Loose Lips" strip club in British Columbia, Canada. Pac Man Jones has just returned from the bar with $7,000 in singles. Berbs and Ricky Williams just finished sharing a small marijuana cigarette. Maunela sits, uncomfortable.

(For the purpose of me being lazy, all conversations will be written in script form, and Pac Man Jones will heretofore be referred to as RainMan, Ricky as SnoopRickyRick and I guess I'll just stay Berbs.)

RainMan: CheckItCheckItCheckItCheckItCheckIt, yo listen my man's and 'em wuz wonderin', right--

Berbs: No, Pac Man. We are not running a train on Manuela.

RainMan: Awwww c'mon man! If we ain't gonsta have no fun in Canada, den why da FUCK I'm here, man?!? Ricky, I KNOW you wanna run trIZn-ain on dat ass, am I right?

SnoopRickyRick (head surrounded in what seems to be constant smoke cloud, ala PigPen from Peanuts): Wha-Huh?

RainMan: N****, you useless.

Berbs: C'mon man, let's concentrate here, people are getting foot-capitated out there and--

RainMan: Oh CheckitCheckItCheckItCheckItCheckIt-Watch-wha-I'ma-do...bout to make it RAIN up in this piece!!!

Berbs: Really? Again? I mean, I get it, it looks neat with all the money coming down and everything and I guess the stippers all think you're really cool, but--

RainMan: ShhhplaDOW!!!

Pac Man Jones releases all 7,000 $1 bills into the air, with a precision and grace that is at once awe-inspiring and really sad that he's gotten that good at it. Dollar bills swirl around the entire club, creating a blizzard of currency.

RainMan: Oh SHIT!!! YEEEEEAAAA BOYYYYEEEEEE! Look-a I done did!

Berbs: Pac Man, you ASS, I can't see shit! Ricky, where you at, man?!?

SnoopRickyRick: I'm right here.

Berbs: Pac Man--

RainMan: Fuck rain, I'm makin' it MONSOOOOOOON up-in-dis-bitch!!!

Berbs: Pac Man--


Berbs: ADAM JONES!!!

The club goes silent. Suddenly and inexplicably, the dollar bills abandon their slow, graceful glide downward and plummet as if they were made of lead.

RainMan: Why you gotta fuckin' harsh my mellow, n****?!? Damn. My mama don't even call me Adam no more.

Berbs: Listen! We don't know how much time we have until this creep strikes again, and we have another foot washing up on the-- hold on...where's Manuela?

RainMan: ManIownknow.

Berbs: What?!? Ricky, did you see--Holy shit!

SnoopRickyRick: Wha-Huh?

Berbs: You're feet!

SnoopRickyRick: Maaaan, you be trippin' when get like-- HOLY SHIT MAH FUCKIN FEETS!!! WHERE DA FUCK MY FEETS IS AT?!? AAAAAAHHHH MY FEEEEEEETS!!!


Most Expensive Enema Ever

yes, obscured, children, maybe, yes, hell yes.

Have you ever wanted to spend 42 grand to have three gilded cherubs insert a giant gold 800 pound enema into your ass? You have? Why then, you must be from Zheleznovodsk.

"There is no kitsch or obscenity, it is a successful work of art," Alexander Kharchenko told The Associated Press. "An enema is almost a symbol of our region."

Well excuse me, comrade, but where I'm from - the land where the colors do not run - we have symbols like Eagles. No creepy pederast-ian statues of children holding something ready to
forcibly insert into your anus.

The Caucasus Mountains region is known for dozens of spas where enemas with water from mineral springs are routinely administered to treat digestive and other complaints.

I am reminded of my elementary school, when you went to the nurse - regardless of your symptoms, the first question was always: "Have you tried going to the bathroom?" Stomach ache? Have you tried going to the bathroom? Finger bleeding? Have you tried going to the bathroom? Foot's been severed? Have you tried going to the bathroom? ad infinitum. Anyway, back to the statue.

Kharchenko, 50, said the monument cost $42,000 and was installed in a square in front of his spa on Wednesday. A banner declaring: "Let's beat constipation and sloppiness with enemas" — an allusion to a line from "The Twelve Chairs," a famous Soviet film comedy — was posted on one of the spa's walls.

Ok, at first I thought that statue was a little bit much, but that banner adds a touch of class generally reserved for five star establishments. N.B.: remember to rent "The Twelve Chairs, and keep an eye out for the constipation and sloppiness, hilarity is bound to ensue.

Sculptor Svetlana Avakina said she designed the 5-foot-high monument with "irony and humor" and modeled the angels on those in works by Italian Renaissance painter Alessandro Botticelli.

Hi Svetlana, I run this spa, and well... I love your sculptures... You see, I've got a little over forty grand, and it is just burning a hole in my pocket. I'm looking to get people to my spa, and I want them to know this is a classy establishment. I want them to know just what a lovely little place we're running here. Maybe something similar to a Botticelli. I'll leave the rest up to your discretion.

"This device is eternal, it will never change," she told the AP. "We could promote this brand, turn it into a franchise with souvenirs and awards for medical doctors."

The Enny's!

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Thursdays are for New Albums: Girl Talk!

So, Girl Talk has a new album out today, called Feed The Animals. Please do not get the musician Girl Talk confused with my other favorite Girl Talk. While not as original as the batshit insanely awesome Night Ripper, it certainly does not disappoint. To give you an idea of the level of insanity his albums contain, here is the list of songs sampled and put over one another in just the first track of the new album:

Play Your Part (Pt. 1)" - 4:45
UGK with OutKast - International Player's Anthem (I Choose You)
Spencer Davis Group - Gimme Some Lovin
The Unicorns - I Was Born (A Unicorn)
0:32 DJ Funk - Pump That Shit
Pete Townshend - Let My Love Open the Door
Unk - Walk It Out
Twisted Sister - We're Not Gonna Take It
Huey Lewis and the News - The Heart of Rock & Roll
Lil Mama - G-Slide
Ludacris - Whats Your Fantasy
Temple of the Dog - Hunger Strike
Birdman ft Lil Wayne - Pop Bottles
Aaliyah ft. Timbaland - We Need a Resolution
T.I. - What You Know
Lil Wayne with Birdman - Stuntin' Like My Daddy
Sinead O'Connor - Nothing Compares 2 U
Shawnna - Gettin' Some
Jay-Z - Big Pimpin'

That's one song. Out of fourteen. You can download the album (pay as much as you want - aka free!)

In the mean time, here are some videos (mostly fan made I believe, but the songs are still sick) from Night Ripper.

Bounce That

Summer Smoke

Too Deep

The Last Thing Your Feet Hear Before They Die PART 1

NOTE: The following story is a record of actual events that actually all happened in actuality...except the parts I made up.

It was a rainy Tuesday in the City-So-Nice-They-Named-It-Twice-And-Made-It-Smell-Like-Hobo-Urine. I remember it was a Tuesday, because the bossman was out of the office, having one of his "Golf/Hooker Tuesdays," and I was passing the time by making silly phrases starting in the letters that made up the word "Tuesday," like:

Two Ugly Eskimos Sexing During A Yeast-infection

God, I'm clever. And my mom says I'm handsome.

Anyway, there I was, trying to look inconspicuous as I rubbed one out beneath my desk to a total stranger's facebook pics from their trip to the beach, when there was a knock on the door.

"Um, hold on--uh, don't come in yet, I'm bus--who is it!?"

In walked a blonde bombshell, with a face like an angel, a body like a high-class Vegas hooker, and legs that went all the way the point where they stopped. I finished myself off, gave my hands a quick Purell and introduced myself.

"The name's Berbs, Private Dick," I said.

"Looks pretty public at the moment," she said.

I zipped up.

"What seems to be the problem, Miss...?"

"Manuela," she replied. She totally wasn't Latina, but I was too busy picturing her lezzing out with that chick from 24 to say anything. "And this is the problem."

To sum it up, feet were washing up on the shore of someplace called British Columbia, which is a totally suck-ass name for it, being nowhere NEAR either Britain or Columbia. I digress...

The crazy part is, these feet didn't have people attached to them, as if someone had purposefully cut the person right off of the foot. I asked her why she'd come all the way to the Big Apple for help, when British Columbia is all the way over...wherever the hell it is.

"Why'd you come all the way to the Big Apple for help, when British Columbia is all the way over...wherever the hell it is," I asked.

"Because The Royal Mounted Canadian Police are fucking stupid," she replied. She quoted some Canook bitch to prove it:

"We are exploring the possibility that it could be people who may have drowned," said Annie Linteau, a spokeswoman for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. "It could be missing fishermen. It could be the remains of people who may have died in a plane crash."

"She said this after they found the sixth severed foot," Manuela said. "Five of them were right feet, so it's not even like just 3 dudes lost their feet. The SIXTH severed foot comes washing up in the same area, and this bitch isn't ruling out an accident."

She went on to quote some other dumb bitch Mountie as saying:
"Our first step is to establish identity," said Constable Sharlene Brooks of the Delta Police Department in British Columbia. "It is a little mysterious, but we don't know if it is linked to others."
"Like all 5 feet just happened to have found themselves removed from their owners in totally separate, unrelated incidences that led to them washing up on the same damned shore. It's ridiculous!" exclaimed Manuela, who, may I reiterate is as hot as all get-out.

"Listen, dame," I said. "While this is all very interesting, and quite possibly something I may blog about in the future, what's it got to do with you?"

"My husband's disappeared. He's been missing for 2 weeks now. I fear for his feet, and his life."

"In that order?" I asked.

"He had really nice feet."

I slid back in my chair and adjusted my half-stack (seriously, you should've seen this chick, I wish I had my frickin' camera phone charged so that I could've taken a pic for the Spank Bank) and said, "so that means you're technically on the market again, yes?"

"Well, we don't even know if my husband's dead or where he--"

"It's been two weeks since his disappearance, you say?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Yeah, he's definitely dead, and that would make you single again, yes?"



"I'm still not sure he's--"


"Yes," she sighed.

"Excellent. I'm on the case!"

"Oh, you are?!?" she exclaimed.

"Yeah bitch, are you deaf?" I replied. "Now, did your husband have any enemies, someone that would possibly want to...I don't know, sever his foot and toss it in the water around the area of...say, British Columbia?"

I knew her answer before it ever came out of those beautiful DSL's. Of course he didn't, she'd say. God bless 'em, but women always think their man is a saint, a boy scout all grow'ds up (a Man Scout, if you will) without a sin on their soul, without a stain on their boxers, without a naked 15 year old on their hard drive, without--

"Oh definitely. He was a drug dealer, so I'm guessing this is the work of his competition," she said.

"I knew you'd say that," I said. "What kind of drugs?"

"What kind of drugs do you think?" she asked.

I was all, "bitch, why you sendin' that kweshun back at me?!? I ain't murried to tha muh'fucka!"

I collected myself, apologized. Sometimes I'm just gangsta like that.

"Marijuana," she said. "British Columbia is like one of the weed capitals of the world."

"Weed capital, eh? World, eh?"
Manuela nodded. "Yeah, it's basically weed houses and strip clubs."

I was on the next plane to British Columbia. And I brought friends.


Gloucester is For Young Lovers

Or, idiot girls who make pregnancy pacts.

There's a stunning twist to the sudden rise in teen pregnancies at Gloucester High School. 17 students there are expecting and, according to a published report, most of them became that way on purpose.

Ok, that is completely fucking bats insane crazy bonkers nuts. Please tell me the principal was shocked and outraged.

Principal Joseph Sullivan said that wasn't all that was shocking.

Um... Oh. Ok, so... next sentence of the article will probably explain why the principal doesn't find 17 of his students pregnant to be shocking...right?

"We found out one of the fathers is a 24-year-old homeless guy," he told Time.

Whew, that's a relief because.. wait..W$FAWRNF*WE$T?~??!

Normally, the school has about four pregnancies per school year.

Oh, so I can see why more than quadrupling that number isn't remotely unsettling to the guy running the school.

Last month, two top officials at the high school's health center resigned in a fight over contraceptives distribution. Medical Director Dr. Brian Orr and chief nurse practitioner Kim Daly support confidentially giving contraceptives to students. They were outraged about resistance from Addison Gilbert Hospital, which administers the state public health grant that funds the school clinic.

I guess the problem here is that these genius ladies wanted to get pregnant. What good is handing out contraceptives if they're not going to use them anyway, you fucking jackasses. Also, why mention you dole them out confidentially? Was anyone picturing a "calling all whores" type meeting where they're given out en masse?

"Some girls seemed more upset when they weren't pregnant than when they were," Sullivan told the magazine. The pregnant girls and their parents turned down requests to be interviewed.

I can't imagine why someone wouldn't want to discuss their daughter's upcoming birth, fathered by a homeless person. Also, did the homeless person father all 17 of these babies? What's the story with the guys in this high school? Are they complete fucking idiots or were there really just like a bunch of high school junior guys who thought getting some girls pregnant would be fun. I don't like how this article leaves out so much of the logistics. I need to know these things!!!

A recent graduate who had a baby during her freshman year told Time she knows why the girls wanted to get pregnant. "They're so excited to finally have someone to love them unconditionally," Amanda Ireland, 18, said. "I try to explain it's hard to feel loved when an infant is screaming to be fed at 3 a.m."

Haven't any of these fucking morons ever heard of a dog?

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

It's-a-Me! Giambio! I'm-a-go-na-win!

The scene is Yankee Stadium. There is a game going on. A-rod has just struck out, and we look to home plate to see:

Giambio! I'm-a go-na ween! Now, you might-a have-a noticed a-little bit-a of difference ina that last-a few weeks. Since-a my moustachio's-a grown-a in, I've-a completed my-a transformationo! I'm-a go-na hit-a they ball-a to the short-a porch and then I'm-a go-na steal-a your gold coins! No one of-a your world can stop-a the Giambio! No one!! Mwaahahahahahahahaha...

Hey, Giambio, not-a so fast-a eh? I'm-a go-na stopp-a your reign-a of terror

Giambio: Oh-a no! I thought-a i recognized-a you! Giambio should-a have known better, even-a though you-a shave your moustachio!

Luigiada: It's-a I! Luigiada! And I'm-a go-na ween! I-a even rode here to defeat-a you on Yoshi!

[they gallop from the dugout to home plate to face off against Giambio. Until...]

Yoshi!!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!!

Luigiada: Yoshi! I-a shall avenge-a your death-a by destroying Giambio in-a de contest of-a de home runs!

Giambio: I'm-a nomber juan!

[a fast and furious home run derby ensues, with both parties hitting meatballs into the Yankee dugout until...a figure emerges from the bullpen...]


Giambio and Luigiada (together): JOBOWSA!

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Dear Ericforth Harding Peterson IV: I warned you

Dear Rick,

I warned you this would happen . I told you when you left me that bad things would happen. We used to be a team, you and I. We met way back when... You just a young boy, and me: shy, just starting to grow and come into my own. Then after some really great times together, you cut me loose. When you got drafted by the Pirates in '76, I thought we'd be together forever. The way you used to gently stroke me whilst you thought your zen-like thoughts on the masterful art of baseball pitching. Then nothing. When did I become expendable? While you stared right at me, and contemplated getting rid of me, I told you right then on the spot: strike me down and I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine. You should have heeded my warning Rickforth. You think anything that has happened in your life since then has been coincidence, chance?

I've been controlling it all my little puppet. I let you taste the highs of life in Oakland, giving you Zito, Mulder and Hudson. Letting you think it was your cunning and guile that turned them into aces. No E-rock, it was all me. I let you think signing with the Mets would be wonderful. Whispered in your ear that it would be a good idea to swap Scott Kazmir for Victor Zambrano. You should have known then and there that I was enacting my revenge, sweetums. But in your cold arrogance you never even saw my wrath as it lapped at you like a bitter wave repeatedly crashing on the shore. I let you think that Heath Bell was never going to be a decent pitcher, same with Brian Bannister.

And now my revenge is complete. You should never have left me, Rickles. Only now will you see the error of your ways. But know that it's not too late - it's never too late. Take care, Eric. Should you change your mind, you know how to bring me back.

Your former best friend and current worst nightmare,

Your sideburns.