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!

Your Fake Boobs Are Two Incredibly Beautiful Terrorists

What the hell is going on with TSA these days? A couple of months ago they were searching for bombs in baby’s diapers, then they moved on recently to searching for bombs in a 90 year old’s Depends Undergarment. But now … NOW … they’re going to need to start fondling all the ladies with implants. Very smart TSA, VERY … SMART IN-DEED! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job application to run down to the airport. Be right back.

RED ALERT : SEVERE RISK OF TERRORIST ATTACKS

Actually, no, it’s not TSA’s fault this time, it’s the plane terrorists making my wait at the airport another hour longer than normal. Dicks! What a bittersweet thing these terrorists are doing. Strapping those bulky, unbreathable bombs to themselves is so 2001, and the modern terror-fashionista-ist would never be caught dead with the cliché ”underwear bomb” from 2009. Those acts of terrorism were so bunchy, and the pantie-lines were simply atrocious. So what is a terrorist to do?

ORANGE ALERT : HIGH RISK OF TERRORIST ATTACK

Well one smarty terrorist has finally devised a way to not only look fabulous, but to blow a fucking plane to smithereens while doing so. Say hello to “The Implant Bomb”. That round, succulent, perky bosom of mass destruction teasing us with its low cut flirtyness, giving us just enough of a show to distract us from the mayhem that it will be causing very soon. Bittersweet in the fact that big fake boobs are great to look at, they might be a bit on the hard side when fondling, but for the most part, great, I’m not complaining believe me. But now with the implant scare, I’m sure there will soon be some sort of new US Regulation keeping women with low self-esteem from easily acquiring implants without some sort of huge screening process, which will then spiral out of control to a ban on implants altogether. Damn you Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab !!! First you take our freedom from safe flying, and now you take our eye candy too, you’re such a prick! However, I am interested to see the pictures they use on the new terror alert system.

GREEN ALERT : No terror here, let her on the plane

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!

Osama bin Jackin’: The Diary of the “Little Terrorist”‘s Mind

Osama bin Laden was just like you and me. Wait. No. What I meant to say is that, you’re no different than Osama bin Laden. NO! No, that’s not it. Okay, let me start over.

Oh the naughty things that happen behind those walls

Osama bin Laden’s penis. It existed. So does yours. If you were born with one. Or if yours wasn’t lost in a horrible accident that you have changed the details of to sound much tougher than we all really know it was. The point is, Osama bin Laden was a man, a terror man, but a man none the less, and as such, he had a collection of pornography that “consists of modern, electronically recorded video and is fairly extensive”. Or so says Reuters. That’s right, when he wasn’t plotting ways to terrorize otherwise peace loving citizens of the world, he was terrorizing his Jihad junk, in what I can only imagine were dry, sandy, angry sessions of joyless, medically prescribed masturbation sessions. Mostly because when I try to think of it any other way, my brain turns off to protect me from myself and I wake up several hours later in a pool of what ever was in me before I went out.

It's always a surprise inside the dirty dirty burqa!

Of course this is the main reason I hope I’m not killed in a raid on my compound by highly trained military personnel… The embarrassing shit of mine they’ll find… And because I mostly haven’t done anything to warrant such action against me, but mostly because of the embarrassing thing…

But not surprisingly to those who know and understand us by now, we at Van Full of Candy have been able to obtain a list of the confiscated collection through one of our MANY friends in the special operations fields of our nation’s armed forces. We’re big with people who can murder you almost accidentally. So VFoC is proud to present just a very small sampling of some of Osama bin Laden’s personal compound stash entitled: “Osama bin Jackin’: The Pornographic Diary of a Big Terrorist’s “Little Terrorist”‘s Mind.”

“Adiba Does Abbottabad”

In the dusty footsteps of the ongoing saga of the ever popular “Debbie Does Dallas” series, Malik Productions introduces the latest Middle East version. Filmed on location in Abbottabad, this latest chapter follows the sexcapades of a young, hot, rogue, lady of the night as she explores as many Pakistani army men as one desert-hooker can possibly handle, and with a surprise ending that will leave you breathless and sandy in your crevices.

Starring: Foxy Fadiyah, Big Bahir, Ishaq and Salim Stone

“Over Privileged Infidel Cows Gone Wild”

It’s Spring Break and the painted whores of the decadent west are AT IT AGAIN! See them prance about, baring their disgusting flesh for the lascivious enjoyment of the gathered throngs… and YOU! Then, when they get back to the hotel, see ‘em defiling their bodies, wantonly dishonoring their families and ancestors ALL, NIGHT, LONG!

Starring: The yellow haired hussy, the ginger whore, that one who does that horrible thing in the shower and a cast of hundreds of sub human dogs.

“The Towers Twins Explode (Squirter Edition)”

Those hot, sexy, twins of the desert, Pixi Towers and Candy Towers are at it once again! In some of the hottest scenes ever captured on a magic carpet, these girls will blow your mind while they blow their geysers. So sit back, relax, throw on your snorkel gear and grab a seriously absorbent towel, cause it’s about to get explodingly wet up in here!

Starring: Pixi Towers, Candy Towers, Hung Habib and none other than Rafi the Rock

“Martyr Al Kahwai’s Heavenly Reward”

They may be 72 virgins, but you wouldn’t know it by how hot the action is! After exploding himself in a glorious attack on a food court full of non-believers, Yakish Al Kahwai awakens to find he’s late to the party and his 72 ladies have started without him! How will he ever catch up, he’s only got… ETERNITY!

Starring: Amtullah ”Tah-tahs” Afsoon, Muffy Marjaneh, Bambi Banou and Hareesusa laykum Logjammer as Martyr Al Kahwai

“Glory Burqa – Hidden Surprises 2″

If you’re a fan of glory holes, then this is the movie for you. Three possibly beautiful women show up where you would least expect and many lucky little Jihadists get t0 explore their Glory Burqa. You never know what the heck is underneath, it’s the Russian Roulette of oral indulgence, but all you need to know is that this is the most orgasmic Burqa flick you’ll ever lay eyes on, not that that even matters since you can’t see them.

Starring: F Me Fayruz, “Lips” Rubaba, and introducing Tameemah the Tongue

“Beard on Beard: Hot Cave Action #64″

When you’re battling along side fellow Jihadists in the most inaccessible mountains in the world for decades on end, you develop a bond, closer than friends, deeper than brothers, hotter than lovers. It gets hot in the caves of Afghanistan, and when the sun goes down, so does Fareed.

Starring: Yaseen bin Schlong, Aalam Al Throbknob and Imam Suck Puppet bin Qaaid ul Ghur ul Muhjjaleen.

Beware: Exploding Babies

I don’t do a lot of flying, I have my reasons. One of them, certainly, is the fact that I don’t do a lot of traveling. I don’t think they have a lot of destinationless flights, and if they did, why would they? But when I do go somewhere, which as I’ve stated, I don’t, I usually don’t fly. And when ever someone asks me, trying and failing to mask their contempt and disgust like I just told them I don’t own a TV or that I’m literate, “Why don’t you fly?” I like to first joke with them “Because I wasn’t born on Krypton, a dying planet whose inhabitants my desperate father tried to warn of its impending doom. But in their arrogance they cursed him a fool and refused to listen to his pleas. Then, in defiance of the planetary council, he built an escape craft, large enough only for a tiny infant, I, their third choice for occupants, to be rocketed to the safety of a distant planet, this planet, this Earth. Though if I had been born there and had been sent here, my alien physiology would surely be fantastically affected by the radiation of this planet’s yellow sun, imbuing me with great powers, not the least of which could quite possibly be the gift of unaided personal flight.” And we laugh. And by we I usually mean me, because most of the time the people I tell that joke to will wander off midway through. Undeterred I always finish the joke, because it’s so whimsical and outrageous, it gets me every time. Krypton… where do I come up with these things?

The other reason I don’t fly is because of the ever-present threat of exploding babies.

Now you may say “Well, how big of a threat could exploding babies be? I’ve never been exploded by a baby.” To which I would say, that makes you one of the lucky ones. A statistic that I just now made up shows that three in every two people in America have been exploded by a baby. That is a true made up fact!

So when I hear of the “uproar” stemming from a photo taken by a busy body priest in Kansas City over the weekend, of brave air port security personnel putting their very lives on the line for the air faring general public by thoroughly patting down a suspicious, potentially explosive packed 8 month old, I just want to say “You shut up, you shut right the hell up before you set off that ticking baby!”

Did someone make a boom boom?

You see, Saturday the right Reverend Jacob Jester took a dirty picture of a felt up baby after he passed through security in the Kansas City International airport. The first question one might ask of course is, “Why the fuck was it any of this asshole’s god damned business in the first fucking place?” Which, despite the somewhat excessive use of vulgarity considering we’re speaking of a man of the cloth, I think is a fair question. This wasn’t the parents having a problem with it like the six-year-old from a little while back. This was a literally holier than thou air traveler who decided it was his job to make sure the world knew how he felt about baby security.

But moving past the obvious problems of a Reverend taking snap shots of child touching, we arrive at the question of “Is this TSA screening gone overboard?” An excellent question. Wait, did I say excellent? I meant dumb. A dumb, stupid question. The reason this toddler-erroist was being given the smooth hand was because it’s stroller set off an alarm during a screening for explosives (or so says the TSA). Now, the world that we currently live in necessitates us screening things like strollers for explosives. Whether or not that’s a world any of us ever imagined we’d be living in or not is another question for another day, but that’s the cold hard fact of where we are. And in this world, where people are tucking C4 under their balls and trying to light it with a Bic between peanuts and beverage service, if something sets of a “Go Boom Boom” siren, that something gets wiped with a rubber glove, no matter how adorable it might have been before we thought it could explode.

The parents, who were either trying to smuggle explosives onto a plane through very clever baby based means, or simply accidentally bought a strolled constructed from bomb, were said to be “very cooperative and the process was completely without incident” and apparently didn’t have a problem with the proceedings. They did what they had to do, which then included allowing their infant to get a little bit of the “‘ol rub ‘n tug” and then they went on their way, being transported in mid-air from where they were to where they went. End of story for them. They had no idea that footage of their child’s federal massage had become a Twitter sensation. So then the next question becomes, if the family didn’t have a problem with it, and they weren’t taking cupcake snaps of their off spring getting digitally manipulated by the deft fingers of justice, then why the fuck is it any one else’s business?

Reverend @JacobJester wants YOUR plane to be filled with exploding babies!

The TSA, whom everyone seems to have no problem beating up for trying to do what they’re tasked to do in what may largely be a system of mostly symbolic gestures but is still designed to protect people as best they can, said that while children are not excluded from security screenings, that they are reviewing ways to improve its procedures for “low-risk populations.” But Reverend Your Business is My Business told the Kansas City Star that “An 8-month-old doesn’t pose a threat to airplane or national security. I am grateful for TSA’s willingness and desire to protect, but I believe in this instance that was extreme,”

But I for one couldn’t disagree with Acting Home Land Security Chief Jester more on this point. Any parent will tell you that a small child is just one squirming bag of biological explosions, barely contained by thin layers of disposable absorbent pull ups. Most home-made explosives use bags of fertilizer, essentially ”doodies”. You stuff a fuse up the pooper of one of these things, wire it up just right, you’ve got a craptastrophe on your hands. And then where will your moral authority be Reverend? Plummeting 40,000 feet in a Pampers packed ball of smelly flames! That’s where!

So I say keep feelin’ up those babies air port security personnel. I’ll not fly better knowing that the skies are being protected from the clear and present, imminent threat, of air traffic’s new public enemy number one: exploding babies!

Friday The 13th Part IV : Osama Lives

You thought that was scary? Wait til you see Part V

Ok everyone, it’s safe to come outside now. We can now all go back to our regularly scheduled lives. Didn’t you hear? The boogie man is dead. Yeah!! He was all shot up in the head yesterday and then thrown in the ocean. Dead! Done! So now we’re all completely safe once again. Doesn’t it feel good, kinda like a Snuggle Fabric Softener commercial?

We can emerge from our storm shelters shielding our eyes with our forearms from the strangely bright sun that we haven’t seen in 10 years and go back to flying on airplanes without sweaty palm syndrome. We’re now once again safe to let our kids play at parks, we’re safe to go to shopping malls , safe to celebrate birthdays, go on road trips, hell, we’re even safe to go camping now. Or are we?

It's as safe as a fresh, warm pile of snuggly laundry

Haven’t you ever seen Friday the 13th? Dude ain’t dead! He’ll sink to the bottom of the ocean, bump up against some high voltage cable, his fingers will start twitching and he’ll emerge on the banks of some summer-camp lake late at night, fashion a turban mask and hide out in an abandoned cabin and wait to avenge his death on unsuspecting teen partiers lookin’ for a place to play “hide the weasel”.

THE BAD GUY NEVER DIES! It’s a metaphor folks, that’s just how it works. So if you now think all is well in the world because the Prez-o, the media and all your friends at work say it is because the machete wielding, hockey masked legend of the lake is dead, then may I suggest you think again. You can stab him, you can put an axe in his head, empale him on a fence post, track him down in the middle of a goddamn desert behind eighteen foot high barbed-wire walls, two security

You can't stop me! You can only hope to CONTAIN me!

gates, shoot him in the head, drag his body out to sea and dump him to the depths where King Triton rules over all sea creatures. No matter what you do, the body lying on the ground is going to creepily sit straight up with some scary ass orchestra music and return to kill next summer at a theatre near you.

Justin Bieber: Canadian Jihadist!

God bless A'murkuh!

As a great man once said, “Yer ‘ither widdis, ‘er yer aginnis.” after which we as a nation waved our tiny Chinese made American flags non stop for seven straight years while singing the national anthem as loudly as our little voices could carry it. Today, our President spends most of his waking hours apologizing for America’s inherent awesomeness and the other half pretending he has a birth certificate. And our pop stars are allowed to run rampant, besmirching this great nation of ours to anybody with a note pad and tape recorder like they have some kind of damned constitutional right to do so. Remember what happened when the Dixie Chicks tried to pull that shit? Of course not, because all evidence of the existence of the “Dixie Chicks” has been removed from public record and anyone that says the name of that non-existent band is rounded up for additional reconditioning by agents of the former administration. So I’m kind of in a hurry to finish this up here before I am rightfully taken from my home by force and beaten night and day for my crimes.

But now, far removed from those ice cream and cookies glory days of complete obedience to the crown, our teens, tweens and twinfants are being indoctrinated by a floppy haired little illegal alien with the voice of an angel and the heart of a god damned baby Sadam Hitler Bin Stalin!

Justin Bieber hates America.

I personally always knew that his music was a blatant attack on all who heard it and have been trying to warn people of the repeated anti-American lyrical content. People would laugh and say I was too old, that I just didn’t get it and ask me where my pants were. But who’s pants now?! We give and we give and we give to him. We buy his merchandise, we go to his movies, we allow him all of the teens he can eat and after all of these things that we as Americans have given to this Canadian hate monger, this is how he repays us.

“You guys are evil,” he told some hippie magazine writer. “Canada’s the best country in the world.”

Unedited, out of context quote, directly from the enemy combatant’s mouth. In an interview appearing in tomorrow’s “Rolling Stone Magazine Publication Periodical Leaflet Brochure”, this foreheadless ice licker spews his message of hate for all of the news stand going public to read. And since that demographic is so laughably insignificant and pitiable, I am making sure that all of the world wide internets can hear my fear and anger about something that apparently happened but that I have no first hand knowledge of!

In the good old days, a statement like that would be the last we would ever hear from a foreign celebrity on our soil. The interview would have been abruptly ended by a battalion of masked, privately contracted security forces storming into the interview room and shouting incoherent code words and short hand that really only means anything to them. A burlap sack would have been pulled down over his dreamy, pouty face with special care taken to muss his trademark as roughly as the captor could stomach. After which he would be whisked away to an undisclosed location to be held without trial for as long as was deemed appropriate. We as a country have gone soft and are too afraid to do what’s right to people who call us names!

And while that would seemingly have been enough for any publicist or management team with any sort of desire to maintain their ridiculously cushy gravy train to immediately spring into action, hurriedly clarifying exactly what he meant to say while frantically pushing their meal ticket toward the door, he was inexplicably allowed to continued the interview. Apparently, so personally stricken by “Bieber Fever” themselves, his management team was too busy elbowing each other in the ribs and giggling “Did he actually say that?” to realize that their entire world was about to explode right in front of their eyes by their super star’s next admission.

... Wait, what?

Justin Bieber believes in the divinity of sexual assault?

You fuckin’ heard me right, jack!

When questioned further about his anti-abortion beliefs (why the fuck Justin Bieber is being asked about his stance on abortion in the first damned place I don’t know, unless we’re planning on electing another FOREIGNER President!) in regard to “extenuating circumstances such as rape”, this little Canadian Taliban’s response was:

“Um. Well, I think that’s really sad, but everything happens for a reason.”

…

He what?

…

That’s right ladies, you were raped… with a higher purpose in mind. So says the Bieber.

To really expound on that statement would obviously be pointless. It’s the kind of thing a homeless person screams before running into traffic and barking at every green car that hits him. But apparently he said it and apparently, (until the flood of awkwardly worded press releases come streaming out of Team Bieber, trying desperately to put the rape back in the bottle) he believes it. I honestly couldn’t be giddier about his team’s gross mishandling of his former career and just hope this turns out to be as gigantic a cluster Bieber as it could be.

I take it all back Justin, I love you so hard. Keep on keepin’ stupid.

Terrorific!

The Department of Homeland Security, the guys responsible for you having to mail yourself your own deoderant and the reason you have an entire hall closet dedicated to your plastic sheeting and duct tape storage, announced this week that they will begin phasing out their color coded terror alert system, and doing away with it completely by April of this year.

Safety rainbow.

This proud, noble system, that has for so long kept us safe and sound, secure in the knowledge that we must remain ever elevated or risk some flag hating desert bastard blowing up our freedom! Because never in it’s long history did this advisory ever dip into the guarded blue or low green. If we were to perform our duty as fear abiding Americans we needed to know at all times that there was at best always the significant risk of an attack any where, at any time. Boo! Mother fucker! BOO! So simplistic in design that even the most American of us could understand it, the color coded advisory system became the very symbol of our global war on terrorism and it’s resounding success.

So, with our total and unquestioned victory over terror and the agents thereof it is time now to retire this glorious symbol of American fear. But what then will fill the fear void? Where will we look to next to know exactly how affraid we should be and what color, shape or symbol will most accurately encapsulate that ever present low level hum of fear in the back of our heads that we couldn’t possibly live without?

Well, Van Full of Candy is proud to announce that we have been contracted by the Unites States Government to devise a new replacement system of terrorfying you, the general public.

We take this contract very seriously. We thought what better way to get the word out than with daytime television and the stay at home moms, retired ladies, and the unfortunately unemployed women who watch them. With the vast amount of play dates, and the networking of moms everywhere, this was the only rational solution we could come up with based on the few hours of scientific research and blindfolded dart throwing we did at our facilities. VFoC presents the Kitchen Utensil Daytime TV Advisory System with Commercials:

Terror Threat 5: Slightly annoyed to be interrupted (Very Low Threat)

This threat will be shown to housewives who are watching the PBS hit-show “Quilt In a Day”. The threat will be verified by flashing a wire wisk in the lower right hand corner for 20 seconds and playing “Happy Days are Here Again” by Barbra Streisand.

Terror Threat 4: A bit agitated, enough to sigh out loud (Just a Regular Everyday Risk of Threat)

If a stay at home mom is at home for the afternoon enjoying Cindy Crawford’s “Meaningful Beauty” infomercial and a KitchenAid Mixer appears in the top left hand corner, then she is to understand that the everyday normal schmormal terror risk is in effect. Nothing to do, just be aware and possibly call her mother in law to inform her.

Terror Threat 3: Really starting to get irked, standing with hands on hips (Terror is starting to get serious now)

When a soccer mom gets interrupted from her show “She’s Crafty”, you know things are getting serious. A turkey baster spins in the center of the screen and Savage Garden’s “Truly Madly Deeply” begins to play at a louder volume than in Terror Threat 5.

Terror Threat 2: Full Blown Pissed Off Now (Terror is right down the street)

When unemployed haus frau’s get interrupted from their Judge Joe Brown show, you know that shit is starting to go down. Corn cob holders quickly fly across the screen, Judge Brown hides under his desk, “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gainer blasts as loudly as a commercial’s volume, and car’s alarm systems begin to blare. This is when things start to get ugly.

Terror Threat 1: Mad as hell and rolling her neck (Terrorists are calling your phone from inside the house)

Oh lawrd Jesus, mama just got severed from her Days of Our Lives show and the image of a bottle of wine appears on the screen. No music, no flashing, no nothing. All hell has broke loose and she’s fittin’ to rip somebody’s neck out. Everyone will be alerted of the terror by her screaming out the open window “OH NO THEY DIH’INT!!”  God speed terrorists, God speed!

Then, with this new threat level system in place, we decided to tackle what we thought the previous system was dangerously lacking. You see, when the inevitable does happens (and it will, don’t you forget it, oh, and Boo!) and we are powerless to stop the very fear we’ve been conditioning you to wet yourselves at the thought of, you need to be informed, and at the same time, calmed. Fear is alright when there’s really nothing to actually be afraid of, but when something scary does finally happen, you need to be soothed and distracted or in your panic you might finally realize that we have only successfully kept you on edge and afraid while having no real ability or desire to actually prevent that which we were frightening you with.

To that end, Van Full of Candy presents:

Cat-astrophe Pals!

Cuddly, adorable, easy to recognize and understand, these furry little indicators will help you instantly recognize exactly which apocalyptic event has struck our shores. Who’ll have time to worry about the billion strong, red Chinese army that’s marching through the streets of downtown when these precious little things break the news?

A long forcasted, slow moving storm has come ashore, destroying much of a beloved national treasure. Steps that could have been easily taken to avoid this tragedy were ignored and the potential for this level of devastation was scoffed at by all who could have done something. The city is now populated exclusively by the drowned and the drowning. Help may or may not arrive in approximately 12-16 business days.

Kitteh Says: I don’t doggy paddle, I KITTY paddle!

A commercial jet has been detonated in the sky over a major metropolitan city by the explosives rigged religious garment of a passenger who, while having been placed on the no fly list eight years ago was not subjected to an invasive pat down for fear of the appearance of and subsequent lawsuit for racial profiling. All of the passengers and crew have been immediately lost, with the flaming debris raining down on the city below likely to claim countless others.

Kitteh Says: It’s okay, let’s snuggle!

During a hugely attended celebration, a mid sized passenger van explodes. The vehicle is packed with highly sophisticated home made explosives, nuclear waste material and a highly virulent biological agent. Those within the immediate blast radius are killed instantly and will later be referred to as “the luckiest people ever”. Over the next several months as the radiation and virus are carried through the atmosphere the death toll will be comically astronomical with each infected man woman and child begging for death to finally take them.

Kitteh Says: We heart you!

Racial tensions have finally come to a head with the wholesale slaughter of minority children by the “Soldiers of Purity”. The natural, understandable retaliation has sent the nation into an unending spiral of race warfare that after centuries of silent seething, now has no intention of being sated by anything short of the final drop of mongrel blood. Only when the land is pure, when none but the single victor race remains, then and only then, will there be momentary peace before we immediately find something else to hate about each other.

Kitteh Says: Good thing we’re both dolphins, huh?

The skies have opened and He has return to His Earth, and the followers whom He Himself promised He would someday deliver to their final reward, simply for accepting Him as their one true Lord, rejoice. Unfortunately some of the translations from the original scripture seem to have been less than entirely accurate as the Lord of Lords commands all of those that believed to rise from their graves, unleashing his undead army on the unclean non-believers. The Lamb’s grisly legion are impossibly fast and strong, easily tearing through the living flesh of those who have turned their eye from Him. The horrors cover the globe, with the pleas of the victims only being drowned out by the mirthless cackling of those believers slowly rising into the heavens in a softly glowing beam of light.

Kitteh Says: I have not forsaken you oh Lord! I am your staff of light! The heads of the heathens shall be cleaved from their wretched bodies!

And there you have it, fear is saved, you’re welcome. We at Van Full of Candy look forward to keeping you updated on exactly what you should fear next, as soon as we can make it up. Keep watching the skies!