Oh boy, are you in for an extra special, super sensational treat of an occasion of an extravaganza! You’ve joined me just in time to witness the introduction to you, our fine, loyal, theoretical fan, of my very own all new brand of sugary snacking cakes! They’re going to be a delicious chocolate brownie, smothered in peanut butter and and drizzled with a ribbon of fudge. They’re going to be packaged in the customary bright primary colors that trigger a deeply ingrained response in your reptilian brain and inspire impulse purchases. And since I’m just a little Joe Nobody, making delicious junk food in the washing machine in my four plex’s laundry room, I’m not going to have a lot of money to market this new, mouth wateringly nummy num num, so I’m going to use a little trick that I’ve been pointing out for the year and a half that I’ve been candying vans and vanning candy. So look for my brand new sweet treat in your local grocery and convenience stores, sold under the name: “Tard Farms: GNYUUHH Squares”. Fifteen minutes after my new candies hit the store rooms of Kroger and Safeway I’ll have more free advertising than I could pay for with a thousand farms filled with a thousand tards!
As exampled by VFoC’s new OFFICIALLY ENDORSED (Give us a call Ogden’s Own, I’m double fucking serious) Vodka Brand: Five Wives Vodka.
All of the familiar tropes are here in this story of another “accidentally” offensively named thing. The easily predicted over reaction to something stupid by someone stupid, which in this case is for some reason the state of Idaho. The faux shock of the manufacturer, caught completely off guard by someone being offended by their strategically “accidentally” offensively named thing. The one pleasant, yet still infuriating twist in this story is the acknowledgment by both sides that they recognize that this is being done for the sake of cheap publicity, but that they’re still making that cheap publicity possible; which just makes me believe that somehow the state of Idaho has a financial stake in “Ogden’s Own Distillery”, because otherwise Five Wives Vodka is never heard of by anyone except a drunk wandering through CVS who accidentally glances up from the Gran Legacy on the bottom shelf to get a fleeting chuckle from the name as they stumble on past.
And I expect Idaho is actually making a pretty penny from their investment. Five Wives Vodka, made by the Utah based Ogden’s Own Distillery, was approved for sale in Utah, apparently without a word. The justification for Idaho’s rejection is that Five Wives, which takes inspiration from Mormonism’s dirtiest little non-secret, is that it would be too offensive to Mormons, which make up about 25% of Idaho’s population. When last I counted, which I actually did, because I count pointless things, Mormons make up roughly 1400% of Utah’s population. On top of that well known fact is the much less well known (except by those at Ogden’s Own, you can be damned sure) that the Utah Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control, which regulates the sale of hard liquor, which are available ONLY in state-owned stores. So when Mormontah, Five Wives’ target outrage demographic didn’t give fuck all about a tasty fire water celebrating multi-wiving, I can damned well guarantee you the folks at Ogden’s Own began seeping excrement, seeing their banked on disputatories jackpot liesurely shrug off the blatant goading. So it was either a lucky coincidence that Idaho decided to be pissed off for no reason, or they’re now gonna be cashing $10 for every $20 bottle of Five Wives sold nation wide.
Jeff Anderson, Idaho State Drinky Cop is quoted in the story saying in reference to the controversy that he himself created by calling this inoffensive thing offensive: “It’s masterful marketing on their part. But it doesn’t play here.” Well shit man, you just made it play. You, your very own self, with your very own action. You made it play. Because if you hadn’t said shit, no one would have ever known shit.
And just co-incidentally:
Ogden’s Own Distillery is trying to make the most of the rejection with a media campaign and sale of “Free the Five Wives” T-shirts.
You don’t say. Wanna check the receipt on those t-shirts and bet they were printed before the bottles were shipped?
So the two options we have here are collusion or stupidity. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t care which is which, I personally love “Five Wives Vodka” and look forward to pickling myself with it as soon as I can find a state approved retailer brave enough to carry it. I generally approve of the blatant manipulation of those easily manipulated. My only problem here is just how sloppy it’s been done in this case. It makes all of the other well orchestrated, masterfully played examples of people really fucking with someone and fooling them into giving them free national publicity just look as cheap as this one, which is just a damned shame, because I’ve already got all of my hypothetical profits from Tard Farms’ “GNYUUHH Squares” going into financing my follow up product: a joint collaboration with Duraflame to produce quick light fireplace logs shaped like the Quran!
Available in time for Christmas!
Fat, it’s unattractive on woman ladies. On men folk of course it’s distinguished and rugged, esteemed and electable. Lady people are not allowed to have any of it. Not if I had my way at least! Women are supposed to be sleek, lithe and petite, like tiny baby jungle cats that you want to penetrate with your turgid man utensil. If you’re a girl person with swollen fat cells you might as well call yourself a man with the wrong set of groin luggage!
So you’ll bet your god damned love handles that I was super stoked and all kinds of other degrees of stoked when I heard the news that U.S. health advisers recommended the approval of “Qnexa”, a new obesity drug that could be hitting the big fat lady waists of these great United American States soon. And I say that this damned thing couldn’t come a second too soon, just LOOK at the beasts that Levi’s is throwing around in their latest pants advertisements, or as I prefer to call them, “pantsvertisements”.
Oh god! I just threw up all over the inside of my pants!
No. You are wrong Levi’s! Hotness comes in only a single size, “minuscule”. Anyone wearing any size that is a positive integer makes me want to feed them fish heads from a fucking bucket!
Fortunately monsters like these will soon be a thing of the past thanks to the fine people at Vivus and their MIRACLE pill Qnexa.
“Disgusting Fatness” as it is referred to in modern medical journals is, as you know, a very serious and very real medical condition. People can’t help that they’re food inhaling land beasts, it’s a medical science problem that can only be solved through the liberal application of pharmaceuticals. There are simply no two ways about it. I mean, if not being fat were as simple as, say, controlling how often your face ports are crammed with creamy delights, or, I don’t know, moving in ways more strenuous than lifting a cheese covered hand to your face and dangling it there until the gooey curds drip into your slobbery waiting hole, then no one would be suffering from clinical disgusting, would they?
So fat is uncontrollable by any sort of personal responsibility means, that much we’ve established and it’s a real life medical condition. Science fact. So finally we have a solution to our completely out of our own hands gluttony: Qnexa. This gift from God’s own goody bag of heavenly solutions which he hoards from us until we have prayed hard enough about our hatred for gays, has been shown to help patients in their trials “lose at least 10 percent of their weight after a year of treatment.” And the only very minor, very negligible potential side effects are memory loss, higher heart rates and a 40 percent increase risk of birth defects. A small price to pay I think we would all agree, to ever be desirable to anyone ever again.
“I would say not treating obesity is not risk neutral.” Dr. Susan Yanovski, a member of the advisory panel that voted to recommend Qnexa said. “We have fer treatments for obesity for those who don’t respond to lifestyle treatments.”
Yes, what is to be done for those obese Americans (I’m lookin’ at 1/3 of you America) who simply do not respond to “lifestyle treatments”? Who is thinking of those lazy sloth monsters who do not “respond” to “lifestyle treatments”? Eating less? Exercise? What if my body does not respond to those treatments in that I can not make myself stop eating or start moving because I just don’t wanna?
Well apparently the answer Levi’s has is just stuff ’em in a denim sausage casing and call it a day!
Last week there was an uproar concerning the jean company’s new ad campaign promoting their Curve ID line of pant products, or as I am often known to call them, pantducts… I didn’t understand what the uproar was about having not seen the campaign, but like any good, concerned American citizen, that didn’t stop me from being OUTRAGED about what I was told I should be outraged about. “Details” and “facts” are for readers and stuck up elite know it alls who like to know all of things. But then, when I DID finally see this campaign I was outraged for a whole new set of reasons, not the least of which was people making me outraged on the side of outrage that I would not have taken if I had known what to properly be outraged about!
It seems “ladies” who are advertised to would like things to actually reflect real life definitions of things. Well I’m sorry “ladies”, but there’s a reason there is an unrealistic standard set by magazines about fashion and magazines about magazines about fashion, it’s because that’s what the mens likes ta see! “That doesn’t make sense” you might be whining through your spoon full of Hagen Daz. Of course it doesn’t. Who said it should? Probably a girl!
What you don’t seem to understand is that the women and gay men who write these publications and set these standards know that a wire thin, sickly, fraction of the human form is what gets the man folk all worked up. I don’t make the rules, the gays do. So when Levi’s says that “hotness comes in all shapes and sizes” they don’t mean YOUR shape and size, don’t be ridiculous, you are repulsive, you should never take any form of pride in your outward appearance and you should constantly strive to look as much like these fictitious ideals of female proportion or you will never be happy. Are you new?
So it’s just a good thing that someone has heard your cry, reverberating in your wine glass, and delivered unto you a solution. A solution that will make your chest vibrate like a humming bird, cause two fifths of any of the children you manage to deliver to come out looking like a carnival break room and leave you without any memory of your former grotesque self, ten disgusting percent heavier.
You’re welcome girls.
Best. Episode. Yet! And no, I’m not just saying that because a sexy Van Fan professed her attraction for Candy Man, Jesse Jones in the second half of the episode, but that sure as hell doesn’t hurt its quality!
In tonight’s episode of “The Van Full of Candy Show” we discussed our respective Valentines Dayses. Jesse’s was filled with drunken debauchery, Jason’s was filled with Walmarts. Who won? You decide. Jesse drank his “Conversation Juice” straight from his newly invented empty “Kleenex Box Booze Koozie”, uploading it via technology to twitter, LIVE during the show to the entertainment of no one… Jason brought up a story of a hoarding woman buried under her own crap and went on about how he watches Hoarders to shame himself into cleaning his apartment and the existence of a confusingly named 1800Hoarders.com while Jesse invented a new hoarder clean up business “Clutter Busters” without knowing that it already existed…
After a quick word from our sponsors we returned with a semi-announcement of our intentions of hitting the road in the Van Full of Candy 20(grumblemumble) US Tour! Live shows, roaming the country, coming to your town, we’re gonna party down, we’re an American Van! We offered the Tesla Motor Company and the BAND Tesla the chance to jump in on the sponsorship ground level! Then segued beautifully into a story about a pussy who suffered an ironic heart attack at Man vs. Food cliché, “The Heart Attack Grill”, who we would also love as a sponsor of our United States tour.
THEN the show really got started when looking up from that nonsense story, we discovered a caller waiting for us. An unnamed woman with wonderful taste in men who professed her “attraction” for the Van’s resident stud muffin Jesse Jones. An attraction that astonishingly began with our first video, “Disgusting Beard”. While nervously dancing around responses to the wonderful lady’s questions, Jesse managed to plug Chinatown Newspaper and their desire to stop in the Bay Area, where the caller resides, on their non-existent US Tour. He then danced around his availability and his confusing relationship status. Unfortunately in his flustered, mildly drunken state he didn’t even manage to get the lady’s name though she did promise to call back next week, which Jesse hopes very much will be the case.
So tune in next week to follow the further developments of this crazy love rhombus on “The Van Full of Candy Show “Episode 4: Conversation Hearts”!
Since the debut of “The Van Full of Candy Show” (LIVE Wednesday nights at 8 pm on BlogTalkRadio.com), we’ve continually gotten one comparison over and over again. People are making the natural and very realistic comparison between our new live podcast or “livecast” show and the single most watched program in the history of program watching, “The Super Bowl”. And when you think about it, it makes more sense than any thought that’s ever been pondered by human philosophers.
Both involve strapping, manly gentlemen at the peak of their game, doing what science God accidentally evolved them on this big scary world to do. Over there, it’s something as trivial as running around after an oblong sporting utensil, while in this neck of the woods it’s the much more important business of discussing the merits of pork and celophane based foreplay and plugging upcoming shows.
But the biggest parallel between “The Van Full of Candy Show” and the Super Bowl is often said that the best part of both is the commercials. I find that to be hurtful and insulting and almost universally true. So we’ve decided to scoop out our beloved radio commercial parodies from our DEEP archive of two whole episodes and share them as easily digestible audio chunks that you ears can lazily chew to their drum’s delight… Or something…
Check out our radio commercial parodies below, all sorted by episode. You’ll also be able to find the new ones as they are produced on the “Podcasts” page, under the show player widget-ma-bob-thingy… It’s all very technical and complicated. How about you just sit back, relax and take a soothing listen to radio commercials so authentic, you’ll wonder when the hell we’re going to get back and play more rock blocks… After all, it’s Two-fer Tuesday SOMEWHERE…
Our parody radio commercials from previous episodes of
“The Van Full of Candy Show”
Remember Madonna? Yeah, she was that blonde super popstar singer who wore all kinds of crazy outfits and sang about sex and religion and emerged from an egg at the Grammy Awards? No wait, she was the one who made super erotic music videos pushing the boundaries of feminism while wearing crazy makeup and pranced around 3/4 naked in badass shoes. Wait! The one with kind of messed up teeth. SHIT! Oh wait, no, she’s the old buffed one. Remember her?
The old white rich men who run the Super Bowl have decided to let Madonna perform at the half-time show. The spectacle where we’ve seen Janet’s boob, Janet’s famous brother, McJagger’s skeleton and that one old Beatle who’s still alive. Half Time Show Fun Fact: Up until 1984, the halftime show was primarily college marching bands and drill teams. What the hell happened?
Instead of inspiring college musicians with pride for their school and their aspirations to be seen by a large crowd, we get super-stardom shoved down our throats with a chaser of Pepsi and Bud Light. We are consecrated with 30 seconds of $2.7 million dollar brilliance beamed to our eyeballs, whilst reveling with our 7 layer dips, cheeses, meats and sudsy lagers, laughing like royalty with a turkey leg in hand in the merriment of all our festivities watching millionaires run around a field chasing a ball with pretty colored costumes. And we wonder why all the other countries hate America.
I’m still going to watch though in hopes that one of Madonna’s cut pecs falls out.
The debut of “The Van Full of Candy Show”, our LIVE weekly podcast just wrapped up and it went off without not having hitches! We may or may not have been live, we couldn’t tweet out, it was kind of a mess. We had our shit together Blog Talk Radio, you fall in line or we’ll take our free account and say good day sir… We said good day!
But aside from any sort of technical glitches WHOLLY ON THEIR END, it was a show chock full of callers and guests and rampant self promotion all around. We called out the California government for the thieving bastards they are and the practices of Wells Fargo as being somewhere between firm but fair and wholly irresponsible and reprehensible. Alana Kenner of Chinatown Newspaper eventually joined us to talk a little bit about how awesome we are, and we agreed; we ARE awesome. Check out Chinatown Newspaper and our article therein, in its native print form in Honolulu, Portland and San Francisco this weekend.
Also Andrea, a friend of Jason’s who did not know Jesse but slowly got to know him and his dickishness called in once, and then re-joined us later via the VFoC Answering Machine with a question about the sexual applications of bacon and plastic that we quickly and violently posed to a confused Michael from The Comedy Buffet before we mercifully ran out of time.
All around I think an excellent debut, if not the single best debut of anything in any form ever in the history of ever. But you know what, you be the judge, listen to the live episode in a recorded form in the little window box below. Hope you enjoy and check us out next week for another all new, ALL LIVE episode OF “The Van Full of Candy Show”! You’re welcome internet.
Just in time for Christmas: the holy celebration of the birth of the one true lord who shall judge us all at the right hand of the father as we pass from this mortal realm to the infinite of our judgement, the folks at American Atheist have introduced America’s new favorite super team:
(Mentoring Youths Trough Heroics Super!)
(From right to left: President Chupacabra, Secret Beard, Power Heart and of course, Aquaman.)
On Earth 7, Doug Parks was just your normal, every day, run of the mill live stock de-boner. He had come from a long line of live stock de-boners and expected he would live the rest of his life, going through the motions of the work a day world, removing the skeletal structure from farm animals for $9.50 an hour before someday retiring to a little place that a life time of de-boning and careful savings had bought him. That is until the day that his entire family was kidnapped by a squishy bag of goat meat that called itself “Vengepuddle”. Leaving the rescue of his family to the proper authorities Doug would go on to receive pieces of his loved ones in the mail for the next seven years.
Seeing that there was something wrong with the system Doug Parks launched a successful Presidential campaign on the back of his blue collar, rags to riches roots. Then, one day while touring an alternative energy facility President Doug Parks was sucked into an interdimensional vortex and deposited here on Mega Earth 1A, where he fights to protect a world that fears and distrusts him.
Dwight T. Eiffeltower was a sickly young lad who was rejected by the Army Corps of Engineers when his patchy, speckled facial hair caused a decorated war hero to commit suicide at a recruiting table that Dwight was simply walking past. Encouraged by a sense of responsibility for the Nine Star Admiral’s death Dwight volunteered for a secret government program that he’d read about on a public rest room wall. Eiffeltower was injected with a top secret serum consisting of Racist Honey Bee Pollen and Haunted Low Fat Milk and bombarded with Gramma Rays. The experiment seemed to be an embarrassing failure as Dwight was immediately killed to death and stayed dead for twenty-eight years.
But finally, after clawing his way out of his own grave Dwight T. Eiffeltower emerged again with strange powers beyond reason and a voice in his head that was not his own. Upon returning to life Dwight found that he had been possessed by the spirit of Nine Star Admiral Beauregard Tinwhistle. Dwight knew that he and Beauregard must use their new found powers to fight injustice where ever they found it, and so was born “Secret Beard”.
Secret Beard has the power to make anyone, anywhere forget facial hair.
While rummaging through a cardboard box full of donations behind an abandoned thrift store one Flag Day, Carlos Arriba discovered a heart shaped amulet glowing with energy. When no one would buy it from him Carlos decided to keep the stupid thing anyway then. Then, one afternoon, while taking a break from urinating on his possessions and screaming at invisible cookie people that he was certain were trying to kill him in the back of the alley he called home, Carlos took a moment to examine the back of the amulet where he found writing in a language that he had never seen before. Suddenly, as if possessed by the invisible cookie people themselves Carlos slipped into a trance, recited the words on the amulet and was transformed into the being known as “Power Heart”.
Able to seek out and destroy bad cholesterol where ever it dwells, Power Heart is the scourge of the Buttery Under World of New Oldly: The City of Whenever. Now, when Carlos speaks his magical oath “No fatties!” he becomes POWER HEART!
And Aquaman punches people with fish.
Together they visit inner city youth shelters, teaching children how to fill out job applications and the importance of adequate tipping while occasionally saving the world from the ruthless machinations of The Orange Bucket and his Legion of Fuck Offs.
So where ever there is three for one wing nights, when ever someone drops their keys into a stripper, how ever somebody forgets what they just came in for, there is just one force to scream for like a lost child in a lost child factory: