We’re Joining the Non-Lethal Arms Race! (Warning: Potential Arm Damage)

The internet: you can find anything here, from cats wearing things to cats falling from things or even the grammatically poor ways we imagine cats are expressing their feelings for and about things. But in the approximately nine percent of the internet that ISN’T specifically devoted to feline adorableness, there are some other interesting things that pop up, like, for example, the US Military’s letters to Hippie NRA Santa about all the crazy things they wish he would invent for them to shoot at things.

Over 100 not very secret pages of non lethally imagi-bombs and make believasers were published on the internets by some busy body who doesn’t want someone to be surprised the next time they’re not subdued by a military grade hug ray. This “Non-Lethal Weapons Reference Book” which is basically being called the “Things You Never Knew Existed” catalogue of as seen on TV scuba diver tummy ache beams and crowd uncomfortabling lasers, as released by the US Department of Defense’s Joint Non-Lethal Weapons Directorate. A “sales pitch for continued funding”.

Now, naturally, this got me to thinking. I can come up with awesome made up ways to shoot annoying people with imagination! And apparently, there’s not even a need for any of my crazy this to ever become reality since apparently: “A 2009 report by the US Government Accountability Office said that the JNLWD had spent at least $386 million on 50 research projects – but had failed to actually produce any new weapons.”

I can totally do that! Coming up with ideas for this that never materializes is what I’m all ABOUT!

So, with the promise of hundreds of millions of dollars to feed my madness and a bloodless lust in my heart I present to you, the VFoC Apartment of Cut-it-Outs: Rail Un-Hurty Projectile Superintendency (RUHPS)

First of all, Mister or Missus Weapon Buying Patriot, I give you our acronym: far superior to that jumble of unusable Scrabble tiles that other weapon dealer calls a name. Jinuluwud? Bullshit – Rups! Just say it “Rups” (silent h, obviously). That sticks in the mind, you know that Rups sells you your humane crowd stompers and you trust that the name “Rups” means quality invisible weaponesque “technologies”.

But you’re here to buy things to hurt people so bad they’ll wish they were dead, but legally can not be held responsible in any way for said harm. We know, and we want to sell those things to you! So allow me to present our first new harm-portunity:

The Giggle Cannon!

The face of terror.

Directing precisely targeted “technology particles” at your victim’s most theoretically ticklish zones or “ticklish zones” ie, pits, ribblets, taint – the Giggle Canon renders assailants helpless, twitching masses of fun! And as a special added bonus, the effects of the Giggle Cannon makes even the most hardened “Death to America” lefty look innocent and care free in their uncontrollable chuckle fit.

Collateral Damage: Tough guy image, 29% Chance of Pant Be-Dampening.

But if only a three in ten chance of ruining the enemies slacks just isn’t enough retaliation for you, then RUHPS has something else that might fill your boots with “joy”. Introducing:

The Re-Crappinator!

"Oh! Your freedom filled my pants!"

Using future based ”micro-science” technology and concussive sound wave projectiling you will fill any non-killing field with the pungent fumes of bowel dominance! With a variable control dial setting ranging from “Turtle Head” to “Ass-tastrophe” the Re-Crappinator will fill the pants of your enemies at an alarming rate, sending insurgents and collaborators scattering with chunks of their partially digested granola and tofu lunches trailing behind them!

Collateral Damage: Dignity, o-ring structural integrity.

And while those two gems of the RUHPS catalogue should be more than enough to topple any ne’erdowells that might threaten the peace in your part of God’s purple majesty, we have saved the best for last. Completely non-lethal, utterly effective and absolutely environmentally friendly:

The Controlled Crowd Fragmentalization Bags!

Occupying... Elsewhere.

Essentially a paper sack filled with black powder, old bicycle gears and spent plutonium rods, the Controlled Crowd Fragmentalization Bags is the first and last word in crowd disbursement technology. Simply turn on the bag with the gentle introduction of a polite eco neutral natural elemental force, place bag amongst those you wish to no longer be where they currently are, and watch as the Controlled Crowd Fragmentalization Bag instantameously eliminates your unwanted nuisance! No muss, no fuss.

Collateral Damage: Negligible.

So in conclusion, we at Van Full of Candy’s Apartment of Cut-it-Outs: Rail Un-Hurty Projectile Superintendency (RUHPS), would like to thank you for taking the time to hear our presentation. We look forward to using your hundreds of millions of dollars to help make this world a safer, happier place for me to spend hundreds of millions of dollars in government contracts on whores and narcotics, as that money is usually spent! We’ve finally found our calling, now you better pray we never find you!

USA! USA! USA!

In the Air and Office Chairs: Lady Parts is Everywheres!

Hey you, shut up, I have a penis and it demands to be heard!

I am a man, and as such, it is my god given duty to not care about a woman’s pleasure! My divinely given external genitalia are my genetic signal to all of the animal kingdom that I am strong and make fire and am not to be fucked with. Like the tails of lesser animals, my phallus is expressive, so without even having to speak you can know exactly when I am happy or sad, frightened or rapey, simply by looking at my manhood. Mine is to be feared and worshiped at all times, which is why I do not approve of the attention that the frightening, confusing female crotchular region seems to be getting lately.

Now here is something my penis understands...

The in flight movie is the domain of Kevin James and cable repairman themed comedians. These films engage the penis on its own level, while not challenging it with feelings or story or entertainment. The male reproductive organ configuration likes things simple and dumb. Our dong can keep up with that and still split its concentration with rating the physical attractiveness of every female passenger within’ spitting distance, and that makes Mister, Happy.

But in Australia, airplanes are trying to teach people that women can enjoy sex times too.

This filthy propaganda is being carried by Australian airline ”Qantas” (which I now understand is Australian for “Vagina”) in the form of a 50 minute French film entitled “The Female Orgasm Explained”. I have long heard of this mythical creature called “The Female Orgasm”, a fantasy concocted by mad sorcerers and damaged explorers returned from insane quests for lost relics. I myself have never been in the same room as one, have you? Of course not! Because we all know that this creation of the liberal media, long a puppet of Big Vagina is about as “real” as a leprechaun riding a unicorn through a field of fresh, spring Clitori… Which I assume is the plural for clitoris, ANOTHER fabrication of the vast Labial Conspiracy!

The film is available on long-haul “Video on Demand” on “The Edge” channel. And while it’s dumb and evil and I hate it, I am also naturally drawn to it. I enjoy science fiction pornography, so this premise intrigues me. And the article says that the film includes “naked scenes” which are my penis’ favorite kind! You see, this is exactly how these animals lure you in. Offering you titillation and groinal excitement, and then delivering their message of hate while your blood flow is diverted away from your brain skull. But I know their tricks, I see through their ploys. Besides, with this being a French film, it’s very unlikely that the nudity will meet my American genital grooming standards.

The flight crew are apparently able, at the request of parents, to block the content to the seats of minors. Which is comforting, because the only thing more frightening than the threat of genital equality is the possibility of future generations being taught that women are capable of sexual pleasure.

But the horrors of female pleasure don’t stop there!

I have always believed that unnecessary sex-tech should be reserved for the appendages of the hairier sex.  If there is a robot capable of repetitive tugging motions, it should be equipped with a soft silicone sleeve and placed in doctor’s offices around the globe. But the people at “Crave” an upstart “adult product” company is trying to introduce plug and play technology to the lady port.

"Put your memory where my mouth is." Slogan idea Crave, you can have that...

Their new device, the “Duet” has “four different patterns of vibration, five power levels, and runs almost silently”. Which I don’t understand at all. How complicated are your parts that you need so much trickery and flim flammery to achieve excitism? If this “female orgasm” is such a real, existing thing, why do you need to be able to conduct a vibrational symphony to lure it out of it’s cave? Why can’t you just rub your pelvis up against something sturdy for a couple minutes until you have to change your pants, like a NORMAL person?

And one of its main features is it’s discrete design and silent running. To which I say my bologna has a first name, it’s “Bullshit!” If you want a machine to do your dirty work, it should stand three feet tall and make obscene gestures so that all the world knows what it’s all about. I don’t want to accidentally pick up a rubber paper clip off your desk, completely unaware that until I knocked on your office door your “executive assistant” was buzzing away at your little chairman in the boat in a near infinite number of possible pattern and intensity combinations!

So please, can I just review my report on my plane ride without being bombarded by things explaining the inner working of, or having possibly been recently IN your twat! Just let me just watch “Zookeeper” and ogle the well tanned sleeping student three rows up in peace, vaginas!

Facebook Will Be Murdered in 87 Days

In an epic “Fight Club” style of badass-anarchy-not-gonna-take-it-anymore blatant threat kind of a way, a kickass movement called Anomymous has publicly pretty much said “We’re gonna murder Facebook in the face and there’s nothing anybody can do about it!” That’s a pretty ballsy claim which made us here at Van Full of Candy stand at attention to it’s Trans-Am’ery.

This isn't your daddy's Alcoholics Anonymous

In a super simple, computer hackery, War-Games’ish kinda video, the challenge is clear, and it’s something that you would only expect to see in a James Bond movie when the villain hacks the airways and jams the good guys transmission with their message of impending doomy doom. I think it’s pretty bold of Anonymous to actually GIVE Facebook almost 3 months to get ready for their impending assassination, like they’re letting Facebook know that there’s nothing they can do except crap their shorts for the next 87 days. But why would you do that? Why wouldn’t you just kill them and take the credit later on? Or even not take the credit and just know that you did what you set out to do?

It’s like any good shoot ‘em up movie. The bad guy is trying throughout the entire movie to kill the good guy, and when the chance FINALLY happens, the bad guy savors the moment and doesn’t kill the good guy right away, he drags him to a warehouse where he can gloat in his bad guyness victory. But then the good guy somehow wriggles free like Houdini bound with chains, does a leg-sweep, a quick headbutt and magically wrassles the bad guys weapon from him turning the tables as only Guy Ritchie could direct it. LISTEN!! If you’re the bad guy, and you have the good guy and you can kill him, then kill him !! Period !! No chances, no warnings, no delay !!

So now the only question left is … is this real or a hoax? Is it the work of the most Trans-Am group of badass hackers toying with their victims until bludgeoning time, or is this the tomfoolery of a comedic group of writers who might even have a comedic blog that like to make videos that make people think? Hey, that sounds kinda like ours, but not ours, definitely not ours !! You decide. As for me, I’m gonna get some serious popcorn and Milk Duds ready for the release of this action flick and see what the fuck goes down that day. Guess I better start transferring all our shit over to MySpace.

Secrets of the TabCo Tablet! The Secret Tablet from TabCo! TABCO!

Do you own an iPad or a PlayBook or any other assorted Android nonsense? Well did you know that you might as well jump off a cliff as much as you know about anything? That’s what the people at TabCo want you to know, and they should know, because they’re selling you something.

Look at all those assholes, with things they know and that exist. Idiots...

Have you heard? There’s a new Tablet coming that’s going to blow the ass off of everything you’ve learned about Tablets in the long, storied, couple years that they’ve existed! Wanna hear more? Well too bad! Because that’s a secret! Why is it a secret? … Too bad! The people at TabCo know that the only thing better than having a quality product that you want to tell the entire world all about, is having something else that you want everyone to believe is amazing by not telling them that it’s not! You don’t know anything about it, and already you want seven of ‘em! Because it works!

But I know shit: SECRET SHIT, and I’m gonna spill it all over your eyes! It’s so secret and so shit, it’s gonna make your head call your balls a liar, only to be kicked in its headballs when your balls hear about that bullion! So strap your balls in and tell your brain to shut the fuck up, as Van Full of Candy PRESENTS:

TabCo Tablet secrets EXPLODED!

What is a TabCo Tablet?

Well, I think you just answered your own question. It’s a Tablet. Or is it? Maybe. Maybe even probably. Probably maybe. But almost certainly probably… Intrigued? Fuck yeah you are.

What can a TabCo Tablet do?

I think a better question is what CAN’T a TabCo Tablet do? Because I know about as much about what it can do as what it can’t. But I can speculate. Holy Smelly Crazy Monkey can I speculate… It’s a Tablet, right? … I’m asking you… Let’s just say that it is. So it’ll probably play Angry Birds. And you can more than likely turn it and the picture will move and shit… It’s mysterious, so it probably has super powers. Rumor has it that the TabCo Tablet will be able to read your mind and judge you for your sins. Which rumor? Well I heard just two sentences ago that the TabCo Tablet will be able to read your mind and judge you for your sins… THAT RUMOR!

How much will the TabCo Tablet cost?

Money!

What is it? Fuck if I know, but I want one!

If I am unfaithful to my significant other, will the TabCo Tablet be cool?

Money!

Will it have Flash?

No. The TabCo Tablet will not have Flash. It will have FLASH! The difference? Well, beyond the obvious capitalization, TabCo’s FLASH will not only allow you to view fancy ass graphical contents, but if you place a frozen burrito on your FLASH enabled TabCo Tablet and leave it in a dark closet for 43 to 47 minutes, when you return you will find a piping hot chocolate cake waiting for you to enjoy. Don’t believe me? Well just try it for yourself. Oh, that’s right, you can’t, because the TabCo Tablet is all secret like and you wouldn’t know! So until this amazing advancement in personal computerized amazement hits the stores, you’re just going to have to take my word for the amazing things it does, now aren’t you?

Why, I could go on and on about the adjective worthy experiences, doings and goings on that this new TabCo Tablet will introduce into your otherwise wasted, pathetic wrong Tableted life. But I won’t. I’ve already said too much as it is. And while I know the folks at TabCo Tablets will certainly be furious with all of the super secretive secret type secrets that I have revealed here today, I’m hoping that they can look past that and instead see that I have said the words “TabCo Tablet” nineteen times by the end of this article, and shower me with TabCo Tablets for my superb work at getting the word out about their amazing new product of mystery and wonder.

‘Cause who better than me? Really? Honestly?

Oh, I almost forgot: TabCo Tablet.

Happy Birthday iPhone, You Skinny Bitch

Wow, I can’t believe that it’s been four whole years since we started dating. It only seems like yesterday when your camera only had 2 megapixels and you still had your cute baby fat which I was really attracted to. You were such a simpler girlfriend back then, so much nicer, you used to be so attentive to my needs, God I miss those days. Over the years you’ve changed. You started working out, tanning, getting your hair colored and even started yoga even though you said you hated it. You’ve started dressing different now that you’re so svelte and it seems you hardly even notice me anymore since you’ve become so “Hollywood”. I’ve just become “that guy who carries me around”, and that really hurts because I have a name damnit.

I remember when you used to weigh 135 grams. Yes I said it, I know you don’t want anyone to know how big you used to be, but since our relationship is going downhill, I’m going to air out all of our dirty laundry right here, right now! I used to lovingly lug you around in my pocket, and trust me it wasn’t easy back then, but sacrifice is how relationships work. I loved you, and you loved me and nothing else mattered. But now you have competition with that new sexy Android slut, and even though I would never look at her in a lustful way, your jealousy is getting the best of you. I understand if you’re looking for a way out of what we have, but let me tell you, you’re making a huge mistake. She’s sexy yes, but you are my true love! True, I may have held her a couple of times and commented on her gigantic screen, but none of that matters. You’re way hotter than her. I don’t care if you enlarged your screens, got lasik surgery for better sight, increased your knowledge with those fancy French and pottery classes you’ve been taking. I don’t care that you’ve lost 3.5 mm from your waist, I used to adore those cute love handles. Remember how I would grab on to those babies? Smacking that ass, your loud ringtones going off, and how hot your battery charger used to get  when I was all up in … sorry … I’m losing focus, but you know what I mean.

I hope this letter reaches you well, and I really do hope that you’ve found your true happiness out there wherever it may be. But just know that there’s a guy out there that still really cares about you regardless of what you look like, because he knows the real you and I don’t even care that you’ve gained 2 grams over the years. A guy who will always be there for you if you ever choose to return, and still smiles when he thinks about the fun times we used to have in the car with Shazam.

Happy Birthday

Science Hates Your Balls: The War on Sperm

Scientists, in laboratories all over the globe, are busy thinking of new and hilarious ways to make mice fucking even more pointless. But don’t laugh too hard at blank shooting rodents, because science’ll be coming for your testicles next!

On your mark, get set, SPLOOGE!

Since the invention of the penis approximately 47 billion years ago man has been desperately trying to devise ways to control them. They are godless fornication machines, guided only by impulse and an unyielding quest for personal gain and satisfaction of their unquenchable desires. Hell bent on destroying all those that possess them, whether it be through their devilish creation of distilled, fermented spirits used to bend the will of their symbiotic hosts, or their ingenious invention of the internet which they use to transmit their images around the globe to all of those who would marvel at their grandeur.

At the moment there are only two proven methods of male contraception: prayer and butt sex. And if you ask any homosexual couple trying to have a child, they’ll tell you it’s nigh impossible to impregnate each other, try as they might, but science still isn’t sure if it’s the power of the prayers of people who hate other people despite their own god telling them not to hate anyone, or just the simple fact that the homosexual uterus is located just below the left lung, too far for the penis to reach through either of the homosexual’s two favorite orifices… try as they might.

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on the proclivity or selfish laziness of whom you ask, heterosexual procreation is much more easily achievable. Almost anyone can do it. But that seems to be the problem. And rather than continue on as we have for the last fifty years, allowing the ladies to take almost complete responsibility for repelling the seminal onslaught on their innards, science says that gentlemen should have more contraceptive options than simply genital mutilation or specially designed poison coated miniature trash bags.

So armies of spooge hating scientists around the world are experimenting with all sorts ways to keep testicle tadpoles from getting from point A to unfertilized egg B. With experimental “solutions” including stopping and restarting sperm production in mice, bombarding scrotums with ultrasound waves, removing proteins that keep sperm cells from being able to penetrate eggs, and blocking vitamin A. You see, apparently as this article seems to suggests and I’m not interested enough to look for confirmation of, “life wigglies” as I so childishly refer to them, are composed solely of vitamin A. So just know, if you ever take any supplement that contains vitamin A, you’re swallowing semen.

In India they’re testing an injectable synthetic substance that “sabotages sperm as they leave the testes and lasts for years”. I don’t even know what that means, or have any idea of what it COULD mean. I didn’t realize that a sperm cell had so many moving parts that you could simply loosen a bolt or two and it’d fly apart, slam into your urethral wall and explode in a tiny, tiny fireball.

So many options yet there's still so many stupid people...

As for what’s already on the market, in addition to the customary permanent snip and latex straight jackets there’s also apparently other “hormone gels and implants that can make men temporarily infertile” available in America “for other purposes”. I’m going to chalk up the “for other purposes” in their description of these currently available temporary infertility gels and implants as some sort of error in translation from what ever language is native to this jizm hating propagandist, because aside from preventing unintentional impregnation, I’m not entirely sure what other purposes temporary infertility could serve. I can’t even think of any ridiculous explanations for a statement as seemingly nonsensical as this one. And when I can’t think of a way to properly ridicule the stupid thing that you just said, it makes me angry, and frightened, and then angry again. Because I don’t know if you’re the smartest person in the world or if you’ve just invented a new stupid that will surely kill us all.

Me, I’m a traditionalist. I don’t need any fancy doodads and rigmarole to make sure I don’t end up a with a miniature version of myself that only seems to take pleasure in shitting on me. I personally employ the time tested ”paint the naval” technique of birth control, which, in doing actual research on the subject I have found when done properly has almost the same effectiveness as any other form of over the counter birth control. Of course, when done incorrectly the failure rate sextuples, but I just have a hard time understanding how the “thorax frosting” method could be done incorrectly. Maybe I’ve lived a sheltered life, but I’ve never been surprised by the culmination of my own pelvic efforts. At no point in my life have I ever suddenly, and without substantial forewarning experienced an eruption of mount baldy that’s caught me completely unawares… But I guess I just understand how my personal workings and doings present themselves, and apparently that makes me special.

So science: leave my gonads alone! Let the ladies handle the parenthood prevention, because left in the hands of those completely ruled by their more powerful apendage, contraception will be less than pointless. I can’t be trusted to not to forget to put my watch on before leaving for wok, you think I’m going to remember to spray my groin with vitamin A killing lasers every morning?

Besides, what me and my seed do is nobody’s business but mine and who or what ever I decide to shellac with it.

Apple unveils “iLand”: You’re All Going to Die Here

Steve Jobs is building a 150 acre compound in Cupertino California to house his 12,000 iTroops for the coming Applegeddon, and there’s precisely not a single damned thing that you or any god being to which you have pledged your eternal soul can do about it.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing people that getting a discount by signing a two year contract agreement was ever a discount at all…

“I’m a new soul, I came to this strange world, Hoping I could learn a bit ’bout how to give and take.”

“iLand” as it will have come to be known to the scattered future rebels fighters of ”iYear 41″, has been presented to the Cupertino City Council as a new state of the art, environmentally friendly, self sufficient headquarters for Apple Inc. and in a city like Cupertino, where the only form of entertainment is sitting around and watching each other slowly die, this is surely spectacular news.

The plan is being welcomed with open arms by the Mayor, Gilbert Wong, who after being unplugged and booted up said in a statement that Cupertino is excited that Apple is moving forward with a new campus. ”We know that we will be looking at a state-of-the-art facility and all the challenges and opportunities that go along with that,” the Wong mark IV transmitted to media outlets via his built in wireless Airport card before once again powering down and being plugged back into the wall. 

The Tron data disk shaped building sitting on 150 acres of land (that Emperor Jobs absorbed into his own essence after beheading Bill Hewlett and David Packard in a mountain top sword fight filled with lightning and magic) will be four stories tall, with an additional four floors of subterranean “parking” and will be able to generate it’s own power. “I think what we’re going to end up doing is making the energy center our primary source of power, because we can generate power with natural gas and other ways that can be cleaner and cheaper, and use the grid as our backup,” Jobs said.

When asked why the Emperor chose to use air quotes when referring to the lower levels as “parking” he told the petulant upstart council member that he would “see for himself” before firing his Matter Disassembler eye beam iBeams, seemingly vaporizing the man in question and filling the otherwise silent council chambers with his thunderous, mirthless laughter.

“It’s a little like a spaceship landed.” Jobs joked about the proposed design to the council, eliciting a mandatory response of howling laughter from the remaining un-banished council members at the prodding of the Emperor’s elite guard. Like a “spaceship” has “landed”, why, such a notion couldn’t be further from the truth! Spaceships are the thing of fantasy and children’s stories. Sure, it has the look of a space craft from science fiction, but that’s simply because the Emperor, in his limitless wisdom and flair for dramatic, poignant imagery has simply chosen a figure which represents the endless, seamless shape of the infinite, while at the same time, in employing a design with no corners he is emphasizing to his enemies that there are no corners where you can hide, no shadows to protect you from his all seeing gaze. Spaceship? That makes him laugh every time.

In fact, what the Jobs has here is not a vehicle in which to travel through space at all but instead a transdimentional focal singularity generator to bring space to him. It is a bridge, as it were, to all known realities, from which Emperor Jobs can launch his troops on endless conquests of the infinity of potential dimensional planes. And it certainly hasn’t “landed”, that’s just preposterous. No, it’s actually been there for decades. Only now as its construction has been completed in the “Void-Space” between dimensions will the new headquarters begin phasing into this plane of existence. See, nothing so fantastical as “a spaceship landed”.

Plans are expected to be submitted to and approved by the Apple implanted iPoliticians on the Cupertino City Council by 2012 and iLand is expected to fully materialize on this plane of existence and be ready for stage seven of Apple’s trans-galactic conquest operation by sometime in 2015.

Of course the new iLand 2, which will be 13% larger, only two stories thick and fully equipped with an extra 3.8 million cameras is expected to be completed six months later.

Your #2 Is NOTHING For Our New Russian Toilets !!

No thanks, I'll just shit my pants tonight.

Indestructible toilets … finally!!!

Not only can these toilets from the future take the blast of a terrorist bomb, but I can finally piss on the lid and have absolutely no guilt. Seriously! These toilets are made of “ultra-strong fibrous concrete” so they can take the biggest load you could ever conceivably dump into them, and the “fittings are hewn from a mixture of steel and reinforced plastic”, so I can slam that lid down as hard as I want when I’m finished and it wont break. These baby’s are “vandal proof and terrorist-proof”. Wow! Terrorist proof? That’s a pretty balls’y claim. Where were these during Sept 11?

So I guess the natural question would be … why in the world would we need to have toilets, of the public type, to be fortified fucking bunkers? Is there that much anarchy happening within the confines of the #1/#2 variety that we need to take such extreme measures?

“If somebody leaves a bomb inside the lavatory and it explodes, then the toilet won’t be destroyed.” Well thank fuckin’ Christ Russia. You can’t imagine how many times I’ve sat on the pot in a public place and thought “Eff … I certainly pray to Gawd that this gawddamn porcelein pot of bowel-catchings doesn’t explode.” And certainly not on my watch … well … not that I’m watching … but I hope you get the gist. Butt apparently, the drive to “introduce bomb-proof toilets in the city follows a spate of deadly bomb attacks in recent years.” I’m actually a bit confused right now as I type this out. I can’t actually remember the last time I’ve ever even heard about a toilet-bombing. Can you dear reader? No seriously … can you? If so PLEASE leave us a comment because I feel so out of the shitter-loop right now. CNN Moscow reports … “In the most recent incident, a suicide bomber struck Moscow’s main airport killing 37 people.” So, you’re trying to make me believe that there were, at ONE time, 37 people sitting on the toilet at the same time in an airport? Not believing that!

Hey Russia ... We're sending over our secret weapon ... Patty Poopster

They go on to say that “The high tech facilities will also be kept above 16 degrees centigrade ­ (about 60 degrees Fahrenheit), important in a city where winter temperatures often plunge below -30 degrees centigrade.” … So in a freakin’ winter wonderland of hypothermia, you’ll always know that if you’re out and about wandering the streets, you’ll always have a warm place to snuggle up with your honey and warm your tootsies together and share a warm cup of cocoa? Man! How nice is that? But wait … there’s more … “City officials say an extra security feature of the new unisex toilet is that members of the public will be able to spend a maximum of 30 minutes inside before the doors automatically open and an alarm sounds.”

Well I don’t know about you fellas out there reading this .. but … shit … I’m not gonna throw down the $39.99 for a night at a Holiday Inn with a lady of the night or a lady of the drunk-bar variety. I’m gonna be a chivalrous man and drag her into a public port-a-potty, knock out some business which usually only lasts 7-9 minutes anyway, and totally not set off any alarms and be home before Wheel of Fortune starts. Sha-blamm!!

Thanks Russia!

I’m A Rocket Man !!

Early Jetpack Prototype : "Assburner 3000" - Could launch you 11 ft. in the air for approximately 6 seconds

Holy freakin’ Buck Rogers In The 25th Century, our Jetpacks have finally been made and are available for order right now!! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to fly like Superman? Well, not EXACTLY like Superman because he didn’t have to strap on a 535 lb. Honda Civic engine the size of a refrigerator to his back that only goes 63mph, but still, it’s pretty much exactly the same! A human flying through the air for 30 minutes, 5,000 feet in the air?!? I totally just piddled myself like an overly excited dog. Besides the ability to be invisible, this has got to be the best thing ever, only because this is actually happening and, well, invisibility has yet to happen, except, if someone has the ability to turn invisible we’d never know because we couldn’t see them, and seriously, if you COULD become invisibile would you EVER tell anyone? Hells no!! Exactly! So … this is the best thing for right now.

As if white people we didn’t need another way to tragically kill ourselves, such as jumping out of planes, jumping off bridges with a springy cord tied around our waists, climbing tall, jagged rocks with a little purse of white chalk, riding boards with sharks, and even driving to work, we had to invent a way to play chicken with airplanes. Now don’t get me wrong, I know I was hella excited about a paragraph ago to soar with the birds, but when it comes down to it, I’d be scared shitless. Sure, there’s a parachute that will “save your life” by slowing you down to 15 mph when you smash the ground, but just think of all the other bullshit flying around up there with you. Helicoptors just waiting to chop your head off, killer swarms of geese waiting to pounce, another rookie Jetpacker, JetBlue flight #225, that random skydiver … oh yeah, and let’s not even mention if that flying backpack of death gets squirrley, you lose complete control and start a new career in skywriting curse words, or worse … that damn thing runs out of gas at 5,000 ft. Oh yeah … did I mention it only costs $100,000?

No thank you science! You can just take your steampunk hubu-jubu flying contraption and stick it straight up your stank-box ingenious aeronautical asses and see how far in the air THAT gets ya.

Free autographed Rocket Man record with every purchase of a Martin Jetpack

Brain Cancer? There’s an App For That.

Well, the good news is that the asshole sitting in front of you who took that call in the middle of the super dramatic and or touching moment during the last half hour of the future Oscar nominated Kung Fu Panda 2 this Sunday afternoon, and who’s whispering voice is louder than most toddler wails, is going to die a horrible screaming death, unable to recognize even his closest loved ones as the thing growing in his head lurches one final time and mashes all that was him against the inside of his skull and explodes.

The bad news: so will all of the rest of us otherwise thoughtful, conscientious movie goers.

You see, in the future, your cell phone has murdered you already.

In the industrialized world, everything we eat, make, or look at is killing us, so it should come as no surprise that something we’ve often been told is probably killing us is probably killing us. Tuesday the World Health Organization released the results of a study that suggests that cell phones may cause cancer and are categorized as being as hazardous as lead, engine exhaust and chloroform, making them basically as dangerous as anything else made in China.

See, cell phones emit non-ionizing radiation. The kind that the article describes, saying it like it’s a good thing, as ”like a very low-powered microwave oven.”

“What microwave radiation does in most simplistic terms is similar to what happens to food in microwaves, essentially cooking the brain. So in addition to leading to a development of cancer and tumors, there could be a whole host of other effects like cognitive memory function, since the memory temporal lobes are where we hold our cell phones.”

We are holding tiny microwave ovens to our heads and nuking our memories.

Introducing the new iTumorer 4GT! Only $599 with contract!

So what will be done? Well, if you said “With the swiftness of the angels choir, we, the consumer, will take this new found knowledge, given to us by those looking out for our own best interest so that we might better preserve our personal well being, and use it in the manner intended, to protect ourselves from those who might instead have their own personal gain as their most prescient thought. While those responsible for the manufacture and sale of these products will surely see that theirs is a dangerous gadget and will redouble their efforts to safeguard their precious customers, of whom their entire existence relies, to ensure that in the future they are delivering nothing but the finest quality product for the money because it is what the customer deserves, and what they certainly don’t deserve is a brain full of cancers.” then you were clearly born sometime during the reading of this article and that the well reasoned and insightful response of a mind not privy to the selfishness and stupidity of the world that awaits you, while certainly sounding measured and clear in your newborn head instead likely came out only as a mouth full of goo followed by a scream fueled by your first breath of life.

The truth is of course that this will change absolutely nothing. We’ve known since the advent of the cell phone that holding something against our head that is shooting invisible beams into space which are in turn being shot right back through self same head at the speed of light probably isn’t the best thing we could be doing to it, but that doesn’t stop us from buying the newest one the second we are legally allowed to. Knowing that our phones are cooking our gray meat isn’t going to keep us from using them. Sure, I might get myself a new hands free ear bud, but then the second that stops working I’ll be pressing my skull roasting rectangle back to my face and jerkeying my memories again.

The simple fact of the matter is that they could call the damned thing the iTumorer 4GT and there would be a line around the block for it come release day just so long as it had three cameras, weighed a 64th of an ounce less and had 64gigs to put all of the music that we’d forgotten why we liked because that part of our brain now had the texture of over defrosted chicken.

The benzene is what gives it that smooth, full body flavor.

You know how many cigarettes are still sold in the world every day? Neither do I, because I’ve got more important things to do than count cigarettes, but the point is, there’s still a lot, and what’s crazy is that new people begin smoking every day. Cigarettes are now sold wrapped entirely in warning labels that tell you plainly that inhaling the cylinders held within will give you a fatal disease or your money back, and people are still buying them. People who have never lived a day on this planet without the knowledge of this inevitability are STILL STARTING to do this thing as I type this. People could not be warned about the dangers of this entirely legal item any more if the only way they could buy them in the store was if they had to recite the entire Surgeon General’s warning along with their brand before being given a pack. So telling people that the rectangle in their pocket that contains their entire life might kill them isn’t going to phase anyone.

Did you also know that every time you have ever used your phone ever, you’ve been doing it wrong, and Apple has desperately been trying to protect you this whole time. In the iPhone user manual it says that in order to not exceed FCC radiation exposure guidelines while using it as it’s designed to be used to, “keep iPhone at least 15 mm (5/8 inch) away from the body.” They’re fully aware what they have to say they told you about not cooking your brain, and they’re just as aware that you’re not going to read that, or if you did, you probably chuckled and thought how stupid it was. It doesn’t matter how impossible that would make the USE of your “phone” in what is supposed to be its primary function of listening to someone on the other end relaying verbal information through a speaker that wouldn’t work well enough if you implanted it in your skull. You’re holding it too close to not get cancer, so it’s your fault if you didn’t use their product as directed.

So in the end this new found knowledge is going to do exactly nothing. People are going to continue using their cell phones with the full understanding that it is slowly killing them and they’re simply not going to care. So really, is it actually better to know exactly what’s killing you, or to just go on assuming that everything is, knowing that you’re probably right anyway? In the meantime, if you want to get a hold of me, buy a stamp and make sure it’s worth a week for my response. I’ll be in the lime pit I’ve dug in my backyard and covered with moss and wishes. That ought to keep me safe, at least until scientists tell me that wishes give you AIDS…