Keep it in your pants, dummy

What is it with these politicians and their extramarital affairs? South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford dropped a doozy of an extra-stupid, yearlong fling with his Argentinian girlfriend.

After he disappeared last week, his staff first said he was hiking on the Appalachian Trail. It later emerged he had travelled to Argentina to be with his lover, leaving his family over Father's Day weekend.

Really? What the f, Sanford? Did he really think he was so covert as to get away with this rendezvous? It’s just too much. And this clown sits on a high horse about family values? Wow.

It seems to be a trend with the government folks to drop trou whenever and with whomever. Remember the romps of Bill Clinton, Eliot Spitzer, Jim McGreevey and most recently John Ensign. Let me point out that these are not super attractive men. But they’re boning like a mofo. Bone Zone all up in this joint. Maybe part of government service is servicing the people in the naked way.

I’m kind of disgusted.

The media is all a buzz with whether or not Sanford will step down from his Governorship. If it wasn’t for the lying and the coercing his staff to lie for him and the passport requirement to have aforementioned boning, I might show some leniency. But big guy went through Customs to bone and on top of it, boned on Father’s Day. I’m pretty sure that makes you the absolute Worst Father Ever. They should make coffee mugs with that saying.

You know shit happens. People cheat. Those people generally suck. There are a very few exceptions when circumstances are extraordinary — or extraterrestrial — but usually you can count on the cheater being a total a-hole. And in any other industry, your job wouldn’t be threatened by you being a dick in your professional life. (If only that were true, considering there are so many dicks in the corporate and nonprofit world.) In Sanford’s case, his being a total dick could end his career. Do I feel badly for him? Nope. Do I feel badly for his wife? I did for a minute until she said she’d forgive him, in time. I’d say take a pass, lady. Just my opinion.

In conclusion, I’d like to offer this advice to those aspiring to political bigwig or talking head or dude who wears suit 99% of the time: Keep it zipped and locked, dummy.

You’re not welcome. But you never are, are you?

Again with the Japanese

Japan really knows how to get your attention. JWT (a fancy ad agency) in Japan just won a big fancy Cannes award for its Kit Kat campaign as pictured above. Apparently the translation of Kit Kat in Japanese is "surely win." Those agency wonks decided to create edible postcards that folks can send students as good luck wishes before their super rigorous entrance exams. Japan never does anything half assed.

I wish I was a student if only to receive one of these kick-ass Kit Kat Mails. What's inside that delicious box? A giant delicious Kit Kat with my name all over it.

I really think Nestle should introduce this campaign into the U.S. Only problem is our students here are not nearly as kick-ass smart or let's face it deserving of such a sweet piece of mail. Save for me. I would deserve this Kit Kat Mail. Me and the Japanese. Everyone else can go scratch.

Once again the Japanese impress with their crazy out-of-the-mailbox ingenuity. What will they think of next?

Take a timeout, North Korea

Seriously. North Korea is on my last nerve. Initially I thought their tiny leader with the pompadour and platform shoes and penchant for movies was just a super self-centered, attention whore. Now I'm annoyed.

Who threatens to fire a missile on Hawaii? Has he ever even been to Hawaii? Not that he'll ever be invited now. What a douche.

Remember that PBS special they did on North Korea? The tiny kids had never heard of the Intertubez or really anything popular culture-ish outside of their North Korean commune. They did sing really beautifully though. Those tiny North Korean kids in their tiny North Korean outfits. It's too bad their leader is such a total douche.

Fast Fact: Apparently the elite North Koreans have their own transportation system. This elite train only travels to and fro the super elite's super elitist headquarters.

It just sucks that North Korea has to ruin everything, like Summer and Peace, with their stupid missile (uh, penis) wielding. What did Hawaii ever do to you, North Korea? Have you ever even tasted the delicious fruits and nuts from Hawaii? Have you ever been lei'd, North Korea?

I officially reject North Korea and its attempted ruination of my summer and peace in general and of course Hawaii.

That is all.

You seriously can't touch this.

Find more videos like this on AdGabber


First of all, MC Hammer has a new reality show coming out later this year.

Verdict: 100% awesome.

In order to promote said 100% awesome show, the above guerrilla effort took place in L.A.

Behold the group synchronized dance! I wish everyday life was like this. All West Side Story up in your face. Bunches of people just breaking out into spontaneous synchronized dance whenever the mood strikes.

I would totally support that.

Young, old, skinny, fat, who cares. Anyone can join the synchronized group dance. The above video is evidence of that. What really makes me love this effort so much are the gold MC Hammer pants. You seriously cannot touch this even if you tried.

Word.

Science = Fun

In case you missed it, the World Science Fair took over Washington Square Park this weekend. Maybe you think you're too cool for science school. You are not.

The WSF was packed with young and old science nerds alike. I support nerds and science because having them on your side when trying to dominate the world is just smart business.

To attest to the fun factor at the World Science Fair, see above spaceman, which I won after answering a very difficult science question. I won't embarrass you by repeating the question here. I am just that rad.

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In other scientific news, the Doctors (see previous posts) have descended upon my top secret headquarters for the next few days so you may not hear from me. We will be conducting experiments and fieldwork on your habitats. Stay tuned for exciting discoveries.

All Up in Your Unprofessional Business

If ever there was a PSA for the hazards of non-professional dancing, this would be it. I warn you some of the above video may assault one or all of your senses. Man up and watch it.

The tremendous Santigold invited 10 concertgoers on stage at her show this week to freak it up to “Creator.” Remember Kevin Bacon’s vision quest in “Footloose”? He fought the community board to restore the right to dance in that small town terrorized by John Lithgow. Yeah, Bacon could dance. (But what can’t Bacon do?)

Not everyone in the above video can work it out, which is why it makes sense that certain people should be banned from dancing as a matter of public safety. I’d happily take up that charge of issuing citations to non-professional dancers.

Dancers, we go hard. Unfortunately you don’t see much of the kid in the red t-shirt who tore it up in the most unprofessional of ways. There were air kicks and even a midair split if I recall correctly. As a fan of the dance in general, I commend him on his commitment. Obviously not the most talented at busting a move but bust he did with wild abandon.

You’ll also notice Santigold’s two awesome dancers in gold bolero jackets. There are no words for their freaktastic moves. I was thoroughly entertained.

Dancing has exploded in popularity lately, in case you live under a rock and hadn’t noticed. There’s the highly popular “Dancing with the Stars,” “So you think you can dance?” and probably some others that don’t warrant another character. I prefer the Italian version of “Dancing with the Stars” because the dancers love to yell at the judges and although I don’t know what they’re saying half the time, they’re very passionate about the dance and how they look and about just being Italian. All of which I support.

I feel the urge to dance welling up deep inside me. I’ve spoken of this before (see “Dance, Dance”). I might be having a Jennifer Beales moment soon; I hope for your sake you are in close proximity. In case you didn’t know, dancing is in my totally awesome lineage. Yeah, you don’t know me. But I keep these things from you to protect you from your small, sad, non-professional dancing existence.

Watch the above video again. Keep it in mind the next time you hear “Jesse’s Girl” or “Maneater” and feel the need to unleash your dance on the public at large. Remember “Footloose” too. What would Bacon do? If Bacon couldn’t dance, Bacon wouldn’t dance. You should take this nugget with you and apply to daily life.

You’re welcome.

One of these things is awesome.

Thing #1: Big Gay Ice Cream Truck

Thing #2: Air Sex World Championships


If I left it up to you decide. . . well that would just never happen.

I like ice cream. I am 100% pro-ice cream. I don’t eat enough of it.
Actually I hardly ever eat it but I support it nonetheless.

I also like trucks. Pick-up trucks, especially. I’ve only ever ridden
in one pick-up and that momentous occasion took place in Australia.
The driver’s name was D’Arry.



I can appreciate things that are big as well as things that are small. And we are pro-gay as an old-timey word and as a lifestyle.

Combine ice cream and truck and you have a mobile taste explosion. I
get the impression from the BGICT website that their truck is not a
pick-up but more like a van. A big gay ice cream van would seriously
upgrade the awesome quotient by 1000%.

My ice cream man as a child only had four fingers on one hand and
three on the other hand. I did not enjoy buying ice cream from him. He
also had a mustache. Points for the mustache.

On to item 2.

Air is good. Sex as well. Together, not so much. You should know by
now how I feel about competitions and championships so points there.
World domination is a definite plus. Yet this string of
independently-awesome words leaves me cold. I hate being cold.

You can visit the ASWC website and see some pictures of competitors.
I’d like to remind you of my earlier post on My Sexy 12-Step Program: Abridged, in particular How to Position Yourself in the Best Possible Sexual Position.

If there are mirrors in the room, make sure your partner cannot see how totally unsexy they look right now, especially when they make that face that they think is outrageously sexy but is really akin to ponies in white sweatpants playing Scrabble.

Yeah, remember that. Now imagine watching a stranger re-enact a scene from their totally unsexy lovemaking on a stage. I want to believe this would be entertaining. I know I'd feel sexually superior but then maybe a little sad for you. A lot sad for you.

How did this air competition become global? Can you picture the Japanese doing this? I can. They'd be awesome because they love competition and hate losing. I'd go to the ASWC if it took place in Japan or was Japanese only.

I think you can guess which side I'm leaning toward. Delicious gay ice cream or strangers sexing up a floor in the most unsexiest of ways. . .

That Look You Give That Guy

Watch this totally approved Eels' video for "That Look You Give That Guy" from the new album HOMBRE LOBO.

First off, I can't even process the awesome beards happening in this black-and-white video. What I wouldn't give to tangle my digits up in there. Damn.

Secondly, this song warms the cold, black heart inside my chest box. Almost makes me want to shed a tiny tear. I am totally crying on the inside, Eels.

Thirdly, this album's title does not only appear in all caps, which I am on board with, but it's in the espanol, which I am also on board with. The translation is "werewolf." Also on board with.

Fourthly, the members of the bearded band include E (vocals), Knuckles (drums), and Koool G Murder (bass). Do you really need any other reason to mad love the Eels? No, you do not. Do it.

Fifthly, eel is delicious. Try it on a tiny pillow of rice.

I'm feeling vulnerable now.

A short aside. There's a rest stop off the Pennsylvania Turnpike where an infamous guinea hen (a.k.a. turkey) used to loiter. Every damn time I stopped in this rest stop, there was that damn guinea hen. Walking around like he owned the place, hanging around a little too close to cars, taunting people with its guinea hen sounds. One particular stop, I was sitting in the car awaiting a delicious cold beverage from my driver. The owner of the car next to mine came outside and saw this guinea hen leaning on his car. The conversation which followed was thus:

Man: "Where the fuck did you come from?"
Guinea Hen: "_"
Man: "Get the fuck out of here."
Guinea Hen: "_"

Yeah. The tension in the air was thick. Murderous even. But that fucking guinea hen stood his ground. I don't know where the fuck he came from but he most assuredly did not get the fuck out of there.

That look that guy gave that guinea hen was not the same as the look that fictional guy from the awesome Eels' song would totally give me.

Sweet.

Groomsmen

Oh my! I’ve watched the above video several times. You should watch it several times. I didn’t even know dudes did this kind of stuff to the ‘hair down there.’ I’m kind of speechless. There are so many awesome things about this video that I don’t even know where to begin. I particularly enjoyed the way they shot the post-shave moisturizer.

I would also like to formally announce that I should be working at Gillette if this is what Gillette is working on. I will write them a cover letter (in my mind) right now to request they make me some kind of high-powered executive pronto.

You’re welcome.

I like to be on top.

It’s come to my attention that the FTC (a.k.a. Federal Trade Commission) wants to be all up in my blogging business with their “regulations,” trying to “legislate” my ethics, and shit.

Listen here, FTC, I will not be controlled or limited or otherwise inconvenienced by the Man. You can’t hold me down with your big government thumb. I like to be on top, and damn it son, I will be on top.

So I’m writing a letter (in my mind) to the FTC to discuss these regulations that were apparently debated and passed without my consultation. Rude.

The FTC’s main beef is with bloggers who accept freebies from advertisers and then write positive reviews of aforementioned freebies. You know, ‘cuz word of mouth is super powerful among the unwashed masses. The FTC claim they want to protect consumers.

From what? Protect consumers from their own whoring, thieving, cheating, backstabbing, lying, otherwise crummy lives? Why?

Hey Mister FTC, that’s the American Dream. To whore, thieve, cheat, backstab, lie, and otherwise lead a 100% crummy life—for free! I’m pretty sure it’s like Article 1 in the Constitution. Yay, America.

As for those bloggers on the dole, that’s too bad. Too bad you’re too unoriginal to write anything original or unbiased or uninfluenced. How sad for you. Everyone wants to be a writer, and that too is the American Dream. For free! But Mister FTC says you can remain on the dole but you just have to admit that you’re on the dole whereby also admitting that you are an unoriginal cog, nay meatball, whoring for the Advertising Man. I hate to slander the meatball which in 99% of cases is delicious but in this case is a whore.

Rest assured, I cannot be bought by anyone. I influence for free! I am only an ambassador for myself and my opinions which are far superior to yourself and your opinions. I exercise my judgment upon you freely and without agenda. If I so choose, I will freely misguide you, if only for my own amusement. The Truth is out there but I take no responsibility for leading you there. Take some initiative for once and find it yourself.

I’m over the FTC. You are not the boss of me, mister. You might be able to crush the dreams and hopes of the common people, but not me. Not. Me.

This concludes our unpaid conversation, brought to you by me as the sole sponsor of me and all things me related.

I am the future. And the future rejects Twitter.

I don’t understand the Twitter. Yeah, I have an account and I’ve spent a solid week trying to unearth its appeal, usefulness, or really any redeeming quality.

What’s with the character limit? You are not the boss of my characters, Twictators!

What’s with all the following? Why can’t you people add some value instead of always sucking the lifeblood out of me? “What I’m doing” is highly confidential and not open for public forums, let alone debate. I refuse to be compromised by your perverse voyeurism.

Have you even read their Terms of Service? Apparently Twitter rejects those under the age of 13. I take issue with this. On rare occasions, those under the age of 13, particularly those around the ages of 2–4 say some truly funny shit that should be captured in a short-character forum like the Twitter. I will fight for the rights of this voiceless minority.

Therefore, as a result of my intensive research, I reject Twitter. I also reject its make-believe language:

-- tweet
-- Twitterati
-- Tweeters/tweeps
-- Twitterverse
-- Egotwistical
-- Puntwit
-- TwOOb

Et cetera. There’s even a Twictionary.

I feel sick.

It’s not often that the unwashed masses side against my very high-minded, super-informed opinion. But that seemed the case with the Twitter. Marketing wonks practically cream about Twitter, as do a bunch of celebrities and sports-type people. The more I heard about Twitter, the firmer my conviction that the great majority of Twitter is for the illiterate, attention-deficit, self-absorbed idiots (nay Twidiots) of the InterWeb. But why do so many people do the Twitter??? I cannot get my super intelligent head around it.

And then this came into my top secret inbox:

Despite the fact that 99% of Generation Y consumers (ages 18-24) report having an active profile on at least one online social networking site, only 22% of this same age group say they currently use Twitter, according to a study from the Participatory Marketing Network (PMN).

So there’s hope for the youth. Well, at least for 77% of you unwashed youthful masses.

I do like that tiny bird on a branch. The Twitter bird on a branch can stay. I am extremely benevolent to small creatures. I’d also like to extend some leniency to the folks behind the Twitter. After reading the About Us, FAQs, and Support, I’ve come to the conclusion that the Twitter employs emphatics and you know how I feel about emphatics. They are super excited about almost everything and so I cannot reject their enthusiasm and free-love-like use of the exclamation point, no matter how much I’d like to.

Wow, that was really generous of me.

To sum up, the bird can stay. The emphatics are pardoned. 22% of you are a total lost cause. I am still the future and the future which is me is awesome. And you are welcome.

Pizza: The Sport of Champions

Some times in life you happen upon something really dynamite, and although skeptical at first, upon further investigation you quickly realize your world has been upended. Tossed this way and that.

This is how I feel about the World Pizza Champions.

Apparently there are not only competitions and teams devoted to pizza but also expos and newsletters and fuck, yes, jackets and buttons!

I know. You can't really get your head around this amount of mind-blowing information. Maybe take a break and come back later.

I always assumed the pizza toss was mainly for show and show-offs. Au contraire. Only pizza acrobats truly understand the art of the toss. There's like a whole ritual behind this shit. If and when you visit the very awesome World Pizza Champions site, you will learn of both The Setup and The Toss. Apparently it's important to first remove your watch and rings (?). I can't even go into the particulars right now. You'll just have to do a little of your own legwork for once.

Not surprisingly, the World Pizza Championships are held in Italy. Because all awesomeness issues out of the boot.



The dude above is a champion--and not bad looking either. Look at him toss! He's pictured with a certificate as well, which leads me to believe he is the supreme Master of Pizza Tossing. I can respect mastery of anything being a master of everything myself. I'm confused by his religious tattoos but perhaps he finds the power to toss from a power higher than himself. I can totally get behind that.

Admittedly I am a little confused as to what makes you a World Pizza Champion but I've totally subscribed to the newsletter and intend to find out all of their pizza secrets soon enough.

You should really get over to this site immediately and educate yourself. I can't spoon feed you everything. For example, did you know Finland has two World Pizza Champions? Who knew they even ate pizza -- or ate anything at all -- in Finland? And did you know Japan has its own Pizza Acrobatics Team? Of course you didn't. This doesn't surprise me one bit as I've said numerous times before that the Japanese are all up in everyone's shit and better at it than 99.9%. Konichiwa!

To sum up, pizza is delicious at any time of day or night. People all over the world eat the pizza. There are those who consider themselves master tossers (I can think of a few I'd gladly nominate in that arena as well). Pizza is sport. I will divine all future plans of the World Pizza Champions via their very helpful newsletter and continue my world domination.

You are welcome.