|
|
by Paul
Apr 4, 2006 10:24
|
There is a new bad-ass cop in town. That cop's name is a name that I don't know. I don't know because I don't watch CSI. However, I'm talking about CSI. Do you kids watch the CSI?
For those of you who have been held hostage in Iraq for the past few years, allow me to fill you in. CSI stands for Crime Scene Investigators, and now has like 29 spinoff shows that are exactly the same thing except in some other city. CSI: Miami, CSI:SVU (special victims unit), CSI:BBQ, CSI: Armpit America, and CSI: Butt-fucking Maniacs to name a few. Basically what a crime scene investigator does is like... show up to the scene. You know, the crime scene? Then, they investigate.
Before you tell me you could do a better job of that, you can't. It's more than just showing up, and figuring out which direction the kid on the bike got hit by the wheat thresher my friend. Crime Scene Investigators are the new cool cops in town. They beat crooks with their brains instead of with the butt of a pistol. Justice is now served up with dry cool wit, and MIT smarts; instead of dry cool handcuffs and beatdowns. It's a shame, I know.
Pardon me, but when did being a fucking nerd become so cool? These people walk around in their cool clothes, and show up in their cool unmarked cars (maybe because they're never in any actual danger unlike real cops) and then start trying to call the shots.
"Don't touch that!"
"You'll contaminate the whatchamacallit!"
Fuck you college graduate.
Oh and don't say Star Trek was when nerds became cool. Riker was cool. Data was cool. Captains Jean Luc Picard and Kirk were cool. Captain Janeway... negative. A female captain? Give me a break. I don't care how far into the future it is. No woman is steering me around the galaxy if she can't even get out of a driveway without ripping a mirror off my bucket. Anyway the point is, while elements of Star Trek may have been cool, it certainly did not allow nerds (ie: Star Trek fans) to be cool.
Before I get too long winded, allow me to get to the point. A Crime Scene Investigator has probably already deduced that I'm going to cuss somebody out. However, they don't actually prevent me from doing it like a real cop, they just figure it out.
CSI guys (and girls, to give you an idea of how little physical activity is involved) apparently know how every chemical and element under the sun reacts with everything else on earth. Yet they haven't solved the riddle of a healthy romantic relationship. Bummer.
CSI people get to the scene, and start barking out orders like a UFO just landed. Here's an entire CSI show plot in like one paragraph:
CSI Guy: "Rookie! Don't touch that!"
Rookie: "Sorry sir."
CSI Guy: "Goddamnit rookie. Hurry up and get me a bottle of anti-freeze, half a pack of tic-tacs, and a Capri Sun pouch!"
(editor's note: CSI Guys are always concocting potions and shit in the middle of the street to make elaborate solutions for obvious crimes.)
Rookie: "A Capri Sun pouch sir? I don't understand."
CSI Guy: "Jesus Christ Monkey Balls Rookie! The anti-freeze and the tic-tacs, when mixed together will ________ the victim's ________.This will enable ________ to ________ , and we'll find our perp."
Rookie: "Brilliant!... and the Capri Sun?"
CSI Guy: "I'm thirsty."
Hey guys, what the fuck happened to fingerprint dust and fucking DNA samples? Every goddamn episode they're sitting in the middle of the street mixing shit together like a bunch of Wiccans. Or, maybe MacGuyver. SIKE! Not even close to MacGuyver. The first time I actually watched the whole show thinking to myself "Surely if they're putting all these ingredients together, they'll be able to build something like the A-Team and then bust into a warehouse and take out like 50 guys." Boy was I wrong. Instead they just made some idiotic prediliction based on their idiotic potions, and solved the crime in the same manner.
CSI Guy: "I mixed the anti-freeze with the toad's eye, the dragon's claw, and a packet of gravel... Oh my god!"
Rookie: "WHAT?!?"
CSI Guy: "This substance is chewing gum."
Rookie: "How can you tell?"
CSI Guy: "It's stuck to my shoe."
Rookie: "But the only sale of chewing gum in this city in the past week has been by the corner store to Joe Blow!"
CSI Guy: "Precisely."
Wow. Give that guy the nobel prize. Stunning detective work. CSI sucks balls. |
| Barney Fife is rolling over in his grave. |
by Paul
Mar 22, 2006 10:24
but why for come does everybody have to have an SUV these days? I drive a really small car because other parts of me are more than enough to compensate. Yeah, I mean THAT. Moving on. Some people own trailers, campers, or boats. However, that doesn't mean you need an SUV, that means you need a truck. Nobody needs both a lot of passenger space AND the ability to pull shit. If you have a huge family, then you can't afford a boat to begin with. Nobody buys today's SUV for camping and cool shit like that. They buy them with leather seats, and big ass rims that will pop a tire if you even turn too sharply, let alone go offroading.
Oh the brand new Nissan Armada comes optionally equipped to seat eight! What is it, a school bus? So what. You want to seat 8 people, then you need this car. Yes friends, the Buick Roadmaster Estate Wagon is the king of real SUVs. You want sport? Look no further than the premium wood paneling. You want utility? It's got a tailgate that folds down AND to the side; lady's choice. You want vehicle? Well, it's a vehicle. I'm pretty sure it gets sideways at every corner, and you can sleep good knowing you're breaking necks as people turn to look at your ride when you pass by.
The Buick Roadmaster Estate Wagon (heretofore referred to as the BREW) satisfies all your needs. The 3rd row seating is not optional folks, it's dead standard. As are the premium vinyl seats that allow for easy cleanup for all that everything you're going to be hauling. The 3rd row seat also faces backwards to keep you segregated from your annoying ass kids on that road trip. A built in DVD entertainment system? What for? The kids face backwards out of a widescreen rear window like it's fucking IMAX in there. If they want to watch a movie, they can watch the DVD of Real Life: Part 3, out the back of the BREW.Why Buick discontinued this precision machine is beyond me.
by Paul
Jan 27, 2006 10:22
|
I've noticed an increase in chronic debilitating conditions among the American public of late. When I was a kid, like one kid in the entire school had an inhaler; and that was because he didn't have any lungs. That's right, only gills. His name was Gill too, coincidentally. These days however, I swear every second or third person I talk to is either diabetic, or has a "mild" case of asthma.
For a while I was thinking "Wow, maybe our global warming and various methods of fucking up the planet is starting to catch up with everyone and we're all catching a case of bad karma." But then I thought, "How come I'm not Type A diabetic with a mild case of the asthma?" I am starting to feel left out.
Left out of the buffet line! Are you sure it's asthma America? Even a mild case? I'm thinking it's not a mild case of asthma, but a mild case of the fat. You don't have a diabetic condition, you have a donut addiction. No offense intended to any of the legitimate sufferers of either affliction, but you too can go the H-E double hockey sticks outside and walk your lazy ass around for a while. While you're at it, stop drinking 3 redbulls and a double mocha per day, and try getting some much needed rest. Filling your fat smoker's lungs with air is tiring you out, and you need all the sleep you can get to combat the energy it takes to breath. The same energy in turn tires you out, and the cycle repeats.
I'm sorry, I'm angry. It's not your fault. Wait I'm getting a text message... yes... yes it is your fault. Now get it together porky. |
| I am currently listening to: MF Doom - MM Food |
by Paul
Nov 29, 2005 10:17
Know that I'm right all the time. I can't really help it. By the way, IRL means uh... it's that show on MTV I think with the fruit cake who isn't the fruit cake on the show on Fox about music. Anyway...
Once in a while, I fully intend to be right, but my brain just stops communicating with my mouth. What happens is that I say something that might not be 100% accurate, because I'm thinking about eating cake or something.
Now I know what some of you are thinking, and that is to quote Michael Kelso's "BURN!!!" Probably, but to quote Captain Tenneal from mXc: "Well... you're wrong!" Silly rabbit. Of course I'm prepared for events like this, since I'm great at life. I'm in a generous mood today, so I'll explain to everyone what to do.
With one magic word I am able to circumvent any totally unnecessary confrontation that will no doubt start with the person I'm conversing with saying "Hey wait a minute, you're wrong!" or something similar. Anybody else, assuming they knew my incredible secret, might be able to explain how it works, but certainly not why.
All you have to say, is "Probably." That's it. Then you just keep on talking.
I'll pause while you thinking in a really angry voice, "Dude... that will NOT work."
Well... you're wrong.
Probably works because technically I admitted that you were right. However, I didn't come right out and say that. If done correctly, I fire off "Probably." and follow up with "...but the point is..." Now, if you're the jerk who tried to correct me, and you interupt again, you're an asshole. Probably, is a word that generally means there's more than a 50% chance. That means I gave you an almost 100% admission of guilt! What the fuck do you want from me? I already (kinda) said you were right (sorta)! Jesus I can't believe you're still dwelling on this. I'm trying to make a point here and you're getting all wrapped up in this one miniscule detail. If you choose to accept my "Probably." and not say anything, then you're still hosed because nobody is going to notice I was ever wrong to begin with, and evil wins again.
The key to this tactic, is you can't say "maybe." Maybe is just asking for an argument. You have to give your critic a bit more credit. Certainly you can't say "Of course." If you give them a flat out affirmation, you have lost all your credibility, because you just readily admitted you have no idea what you're talking about. That's why you give them the "Probably."Of course, if you're asking me if I know what I'm talking about, the answer is: absofuckinglutely.
by Paul
Nov 29, 2005 10:15
|
Exceptionally abled placards that denote to other people that I'm so far away from disabled, that they had to give me a yellow sticker for my car's license plate. Instead of the wheel chair logo, mine has the outline of a head, with a halo above it.
I went with yellow because it's one of those "energy" colors so it denotes that I get up with the get down. Which is not entirely true, because I can't get up in the morning at all. Although I have no problem getting "it" up (am I right guys?!...wait I mean ladies?!... no not you, the hot ones.). I guess it's all about movitation and lack thereof. Either way, McDonalds uses reds and yellows to get you motivated to get the fuck out of their building by combining those "energy" colors with your deep seeded attention deficit disorder. If it works for Ronald, it can work for me.
Also, I want parking spaces that only a person with my placard can use. And not just regular parking like the disabled spaces which everyone abuses. My super parking spaces are going to have those tire spikes that they have in parking garages so that you can only go one way across them. That way when some fat fucks pull up in their 1983 Buick Roadmaster--while their kids the Michelin Man, the Pilsbury Doughboy, and the Stay-Puffed Marshmellow Man from Ghostbusters all sing "We scream for ice cream!" pile out of the wagon--and then shred their $25 Costco tires on the way out. Optionally, Fats McButterthighs can call the tow truck. When that guy gets there he won't be able to help them out because they don't have the halo. The only halos they have are the sweat mark halos forming around the neck of their shirt in the middle of the Green Bay winter. |
| I think I got a bit off track there, but instead of fixing it, let's just agree that I'm right. |
|
|
|