It’s a pure science fact that we here at Van Full of Candy do love our alcohol yum-yums. The idea of having them air lifted to our waiting drinking arms seemed like an idea that we should have had. But apparently, the FAA doesn’t approve of our completely under control lifestyle!
America is always on the forefront of snack and alcohol technologies. Whether it be new ways to inject cheese into things, finding things which can be–nay, MUST be battered in beer, or the majesty of a food stuff called “Combos,” which actually manages to somehow combine two non-food stuffs into one “edible” cylinder. Americans have always lead the way in food and beverage-based technological advancements and by the Type-2 Diabetes God, we always will!
So it came as no surprise to hear that a small enterprising micro brew beer company out of Wisconsin had made their beer fly.
The noble, brilliant, merry makers at Lakemaid Beer had a simple vision. That vision was to make it possible for the hearty ice fishing men and other men, out in the frozen wilderness to satisfy their manly thirst without having to leave their chilly ice holes, and without risking delivery personnel’s footing on the treacherous frozen lakes. And personal drones were the answer to this question that we didn’t know we had until they existed.
Unfortunately, the killjoys at the FAA have grounded Lager Air, (if only temporarily) as they review their policies regarding the use of drones for commercial practices.
“They think it’s a great idea, though they’re telling me to stop.” said Lakemaid Beer company president, Jack Supple. And really, it is. I have no doubt that we’ll be seeing Pizza Hut and Budweiser drones buzzing through the skies Super Bowl Sunday, 2015. But until then, I’ll keep tinkering away at my Gran Legacy Vodka Dirigible and Long Island Ice Tea Missile. The booze arms race is on.
It’s safe to say that the medical community and I often don’t see eye to eye. What they call a cancerous tumor ravaging an otherwise perfectly healthy body, I like to think of as a super excited lump of meat, just trying to make friends with the rest of your organs as quickly as possible. That’s probably why it’s highly illegal for me to offer unsolicited medical advice to anyone but the irretractably dead anymore.
I’m also often at odds with the “blame everybody but myself”ers who have transformed the over indulgence of every delicious vice and deviance from a lapse in personal responsibility and self control, to a disease, so much bigger than themselves that they can’t possibly be held responsible for their entirely personal actions. When our parents and grand parents were growing up, you didn’t suffer from the disease of alcoholism, you were just fun at parties. You weren’t a sex addict, you just knew how to talk to ladies about how cold your penis was and how selfish it was of them to not share all their warm places. Today anything that you can get yourself in trouble for doing too much of is a debilitating disorder, so completely and utterly out of the sufferer’s control that awareness needs be brought to it by way of a special week dedicated to making others more aware that you’re a victim of biology and toxins and not just an irresponsible ass.
Which brings me to Van Full of Candy’s celebration of “National Prevention Week”! Often with these awareness weeks I don’t hear about them until about halfway through the week and it then seems silly to try to join the festivities when the party’s almost over. So I’m happy as a junkie at a needle exchange that I found National Prevention Week right at the kick off! And as such, all this week I am going to be doing what I can to bring awareness to the peril of having too much fun and then blaming everyone else, up to and including the vengeful demons in your blood that angry up your humors, for your problems with being able to control yourself in the face of fun.
With that in mind, we kick off National Prevention Week festivities today with: Prevention of Underage Drinking! Wooo!
Now, there doesn’t really seem to be much, that I can think of, that I can do to celebrate or bring awareness to this issue. I’m not underage. I mean, I’m under some ages, just not the specific ones I’m fairly certain they’re referencing. I myself didn’t participate in any sort of underage drinking, which is probably why my under ages were boring as hell. So, short of getting a baby drunk and then telling it it’s a bad person, which I’m almost certain is somehow illegal, all I can say on the subject is: the underaged are going to drink. Not all of them mind you, but some of them, and while teens being stupid isn’t necessarily the best thing, we have to accept that it’s going to happen and try to educate on safety and responsibility. I know personal responsibility is a dirty word and it’s much easier to blame the world’s problems on not being able to do anything personally about them, but let’s not be stupid, stupid. Abstinence only education, be it sex based, drug based or alcohol based is not the best way to go about things. Tell a teen not to do something without trusting them as human beings and borderline adult enough to talk seriously about repercussions, but instead just leave them with “Because I the fuck said so” and you’re basically telling them, “There’s this awesome thing that you’re going to get to choose whether or not to do some day on your own, but for no damned good reason I’m forbidding you from doing it now.” And you tell that to anyone, no matter their age, and the natural and correct reaction will be “Fuck you, that sounds like I want it in me!” and how can you blame ’em. So isn’t it better to teach people how to do things responsibly, from someone who has experience with the issue, rather than leaving the teaching up to their peers who don’t know fuck all about what they’re doing and are only compounding the potential dangers with their ignorance?
You were young and stupid once, don’t you wish someone had talked to you like a human being about things before you got out there and did everything wrong? But it’s all uncomfortable and embarrassing and stuff, I know. You’re right, it’s just a whole lot easier for everyone involved to just not talk to your children and blame society later.
So there’s my contribution to National Prevention Week’s Monday festivities. Let’s see what else this week long celebration of awareness holds, shall we?:
Tuesday, May 22nd is “Prevention of Prescription Drug Abuse and Illicit Drug Use”
While Wednesday, May 23rd, my actual real life birthday, just happens to fall, unironically, on “Prevention of Alcohol Abuse”
This is going to be the best birthday week EVER!
Who wants to buy me a round of awareness?!
Anybody who knows us, knows that we at Van Full of Candy like to party. They’re usually tipped off to this fact by us screaming “WE LIKE TO PARTY!” in their face moments before we collapse and begin to evacuate our bladders into our slacks.
Over the years fans of distilled spirits have seen their perception as lovable boozy goofs who’s only problem is not having enough lamp shades in their study, replaced by that of vomitous cretin vehicularly manslaughtering anyone who gets in the way of their dangerous, irresponsible drinking spree. And now the dry mainstream media is at it again, trying to shame Drunken-Americans into believing that they’re lifestyle is wrong.
I stumbled upon an article titled “6 Sneaky Signs You Drink Too Much” which is at best (something) and at worst a disgusting insult to my very personal identity to even begin to tell me that there might only be six. So I feel it is my duty– NAY, HONOUR (with the extra “u” being for EXTRA honor), to meet these slanderous characterizations and defamatory defaming with a six pack of rebuttal, a bottle of truth and a row of shots… of alcohol… talk.
First, the article categorizes 38 million adults as habitual “binge drinkers”, who enthusiastically embibe “an average of four times a month” and define bingeing as having “four or more drinks in a short period of time” for women and five or more for men. Well that’s fine, because I generally only have one, maybe two “daddy beverages” in a sitting from my 32 ounce Harrison Ford, “Cowboys & Aliens” 7-11 collectible Slurpee cup, so clearly there’s no problem here. But onto the “signs”.
#1: You become a daredevil.
Well sure, it’s called “liquid courage” for a reason. And while you may site that the “National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism” (like that’s even a real thing) says that alcohol factors into 60 percent of all fatal burn injuries and drownings, 40 percent of fatal falls and car accidents and 50 percent of all sexual assaults, I say that it’s responsible for 95 percent of all flaming cliff diving vehicular orgies, and the stories of which that will last a lifetime for all those who survive them.
#2: You’re a weekend warrior.
Here I will agree with the booze haters: no one likes a weekend warrior. You can’t just sit behind your desk 5 days a week and then come out and try to party like the big boys when you and the girls head out Friday night to chat about what a bitch Gary in HR is. It’s insulting to those of who practice the fine art of imbibing every day to hone our livers into the iron clad filtration machines that they are. You don’t just pull a helmet out of the closet and run onto the field Sunday morning and expect to hang with the pros. I can crush a bowling ball with the strength of my drinking elbow. It’s like a god damn crocodile’s jaw, all of the power is in it’s closing!
#3: Drinking just “creeps up on you.”
“One of the clues that you may be a binge drinker is not knowing your limits…”
No, that’s one of the clues that you may be an ass. I’m starting to see what’s happening here, you’re blaming this miracle sauce which grants +7 charisma and +2 fire resistance, for the stupidity of it’s users. You can’t just give any moron super powers and then be surprised when they don’t understand the great responsibility that goes along with them. I guess what I’m saying is I support drinking licenses. I’m not sure what the test to obtain one would be yet, but I imagine it would be awesome.
#4: Your memory has temporarily gone missing.
I’m sorry, are you referring to “Tequila Time Travel”: The phenomena of time jumping inside your own body from the end of one drink to an indeterminate time in the future, where you will then be told of your exploits during that period that your consciousness leapt over like you’re some kind of god damned folk hero? I’m accidentally obliterating all known laws of science and religion and somehow I’M the asshole?
#5: You let some responsibilities slide.
Listen, you can’t have it both ways. You can’t tell me not to drive the school bus with my navigator Jim Beam, and then yell at me for not being irresponsible. It seems like I am making the more responsible choice of not careening through the streets, yelling back at the children in my care that if they don’t stop screaming that I’m going to murder their families with the remains of their most beloved pet, by waiting just a tic or two ’till my buzz dies down. So you get to school a little late, I’m a hero that you get there at all.
And #6: People close to you seem concerned.
“If your family, friends, or co-workers have hinted that they’re worried about you…”
They are terrible drinking buddies.
It’s just damned lucky that I’m not writing this recap of last night’s live episode of “The Van Full of Candy Show” via my one phone call from a holding cell in down town Los Angeles today…
You see, while we originally chose the name “Van Full of Candy” because of it’s catchy tongue in cheek nature and faux dangerous connotations, we have since been fighting off the natural association with the inherent creepiness of our namesake. Last night we did nothing to further ourselves from that identity and really did more to enforce it than all of our efforts to refute it over the last 14 months combined.
We started off the show warning listeners that the licking of the suddenly, mysteriously sickly Jason Whitesel was ill advised, in general, but on last night’s episode in particular. Jesse blamed his cold on the infectious hospital system which Jason had been recently visiting. Jason somehow found it in himself to blame the ready availability of Purell in the corridors. Looking forward to his weekend, Jesse bitched about his upcoming participation in this Saturday’s Tough Mudder (his start time is 10:20 am if you’d like to be there to offer encouraging words and post run rub downs) and his impending future death at the cold uncaring hands of the obstacles that await him along the 11 mile journey. The boys also discovered that the metric system is used to mask the pussy length of runs until it gets to a respectable distance that sounds better when expressed in miles.
And then things went weird.
Jesse attempted to take a call. It seemed that someone might have been there and the guys convinced themselves that listening to the silence of a dropped phone call would reveal it’s secrets. That quickly transitioned into filthy “seduction” of the silent call. Hitting on the silence with ever increasingly disturbing innuendo. Then Jason had the brilliant idea of using the caller ID in the BlogTalkRadio.com studio to conference this mystery caller back through Skype.
Following a short commercial break, the show returned with the ill advised call to the mysterious caller who did in fact turn out to be the Episode 3 infatuated fan! A fan who we quickly realized, we were now digitally stalking, a fact that we hadn’t really considered until we made the call… We felt dirty and wrong in ways both positive and negative, a confusing mix of exhilaration and self loathing disgust.
What sort of societal rules will be carelessly tossed aside in the name of ignorance and stupidity next Wednesday? Tune in to find out in next week’s all new live episode: “The Van Full of Candy Show “Episode 5: Charleston, Choose!”!
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”!
Happy goddamn 200th birthday Charles D., you ornery quill pen scribblin’ literary pimp. You’re lookin’ pretty good for being a couple Benjamins old, what’s your secret? Bikram yoga? Damn, that’s pretty badass Chuck. You don’t mind if I call you Chuck do ya? I tried that hot yoga shit once and damn near pulled my hammy while runnin’ everyone out of the room with my night before drinking and Del Taco gas, shit, I was blowin’ the tile off the walls that day. Luckily it was a free class, but hells no, I ain’t goin’ back to that sweaty ass shit ever again, so props to you grampa, keep it up.
Hey check this shit out, I think you need to put out a sequel to Tale of Two Cities, but this time you have it set in New York and L.A., you still deal with the major themes of duality and revolution but you concentrate on the East Coast vs. West Coast hip hop scene in the 90’s. Now to tie that shit together with the first book, you can still start it off with “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”, because that shit is still relevant to this story, know what I’m sayin’? Yeah! And when you put the screenplay together let me play the part of 2Pac, but a white version of him, you know, just to mix that shit all up so it’s all wackity wack, and don’t even get me started on what I’ve been thinkin’ about for the new A Christmas Carol, if we do it right, it’ll be all Avatar up in that beotch. So hit me up later on that.
Ok LISTEN UP EVERYONE!! It’s C-Dick’s birthday bitches, so raise yo 40 in the air and let’s toast to the great great great grandfather of the written word, before typewriters and before computers, and in his own words … “There is nothing so strong or safe in an emergency of life as the simple truth”, well, don’t tell that shit to my Uncle JoJo in cell block 6, and don’t forget to pour some out for your homeys. Happy Birthday C !!
Alright every body, hold on to your things which are easily ejected from your person by sudden shock from wholly unbelievable news! Socks, hats, balls and all other comically loose items secured? Alright, you can’t say I didn’t warn you. Here goes…
Drinking booze, makes people want to fuck, stupidly!
I know. I lost nine good pair of work socks when I heard that news and I wasn’t even wearing half of them, they were just blown clean out of my sock drawer by the power of that revelation.
A new Canadian study says specifically that “how much alcohol a person drinks directly affects how likely they are to have unsafe sex”. Now sure, this research is based on twelve vague studies with no real numbers or “facts” backing up anything, and all of these findings are based on the participants of these studies (how ever many there might have been) self reporting their theoretical likelihood of partaking in raw intercourse after tipping back a couple adult beverages. And of course, their loosely assembled findings say that the effect of alcohol on one’s possible knowing abandonment of a baby shield disease prevention sack might be somewhere in the neighborhood of a 3 to 5 percent increase in “I don’t give a fuckitude”, which they immediately tie to how “the role of alcohol consumption and risky sex intentions can be applied to better understanding important public health issues such as the transmission of HIV.”
Now, I’m not a Doctor of Science, and I don’t claim to be. Sure, I like to run around in the lab coat I bought at the flea market and nothing else screaming about how a single injection from my flesh needle will cure what ails ya, but that should never be taken as intended to treat or diagnose any potential illness. I mention the last sentence about “understanding public health issues” almost exclusively because I love the term “risky sex intentions” and for no other reason. The writing in the article in which I found this information is piss poor and mockable on its own, regardless of the content, but every time I see the phrase “risky sex intentions” I can’t help but giggle and take another drink.
The biggest “revelation” in this “research” is the ground breaking finding that “the more alcohol participants consumed, the higher their willingness to engage in unsafe sex”.
“Alcohol is influencing their decision processes,” said a no doubt stunned Jürgen Rehm, director of the Really Long Sciencey Title at, I can only assume, Canada’s Centre for Things We All Pretty Much Already Know.
So let me get this straight. A substance that loosens inhibitions and impares cognitive ability somehow effects how much you think squeezing your reproductive organs into a tight latex sock is a good and important idea? I was unaware that this sort of thing needed researched, but fine, papers have to be written, research budgets have to be spent.
The dumbfounded doctor of the well known later went on to say that:
“Drinking has a causal effect on the likelihood to engage in unsafe sex, and thus should be included as a major factor in preventive efforts for HIV.”
And it’s at this point that I think we need to settle down just a little bit. Now alcohol awareness is a “major factor” in preventing HIV? Really? This study of yours Canadian Umlaut, based on little more than what drunk people say they might do with their drunken parts, is what you’re going to hang your science hat on and call a “major factor in preventative efforts for HIV”? Now, I don’t have HIV (Ladies…) but I know people who do, and I’m pretty certain that a couple drinks isn’t going to make them forget that their dicks are poison. People with a virus as potentially dangerous as this one, if they know they are carrying it, are generally pretty careful about what they put on their appendages and into whom they place them. Of course, I suppose part of the argument could be that it increases the likelihood of those who are unaware that they are infected might pass it unknowingly because booze told them to, but I think this study is being a lot more irresponsible than most infected individuals will be.
I freely admit that there’s probably more to this study than this article, apparently scribbled by a ninth grade english student being chased around his school newspaper class, has shared, so I’m not entirely sure whether I should be blaming poor reporting or poor research for screaming AIDS in a crowded bar. So I guess all I’m saying is this: Booze isn’t the bad guy. The bad guy is the bad guy. Be careful who you insert a part of your body into and vicey versey. Stranger danger extends to the inside of the pants of your new friend. You may have just shared a drink or nine with this nice person, but you don’t know where their moving pieces have been. You’re just meeting them for the first time now, so don’t assume they’ve always been on their best behavior.
Van Full of Candy says, PYP: Protect Your Parts! Because if you don’t, who will?