Examination

Catching Up With Unfinished Van Tangents: Parte the First

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It’s been a crazy couple months for Van Full of Candy as you may or may not have noticed. Both members are now freshly moved from their previous addresses, having relocated a total of nearly 400 miles. We’re both on the tale end of transitioning from a bullshit existence, to a slightly different bullshit existence. But the point of this is change, moving forward, letting go of the past and scarring the future with our poison infused projectile bile and razor sharp laser tipped talons… Metaphorically.

Since starting this business almost a year and a half ago we’ve posted nearly 300 articles. Over that time often I’ve started an article, found a story that I wanted to explore, but for one reason or another abandoned, fully meaning to go back to it and revisit it, but never getting around to it. So in the spirit of burying the past in a shallow, road side grave and moving onto the quivering future, frightened of the legend of our power which precedes us, I have decided to dig up all of my half finished thoughts and unrealized articles, spill them all out here and start fresh moving forward. So, let’s do that then, I suppose, since I just said I would…

I even still have a mock up of the letter head... Lazy ass...
I even still have a mock up of the letter head… Lazy ass…

My first abandoned post from 4/12/11 is simply titled “UFOs”. Most of my draft articles are untitled, sort of making this one special. What also makes this one special is that aside from the title, there is nothing else in the post. There’s usually a link reminding me what I wanted to talk about for when I DO get back to it. In this case, I apparently thought I would have no problem remembering what random UFO topic I was so excited about two Aprils ago. But as often as I write about space and the people that live there wanting to kill us, that seems irresponsible of me. I believe it had something to do with the anniversary of Roswell, and I was going to do a mock up of the newly released documents celebrating said anniversary… I think. Needless to say, it would have been hilarious… Delete.

Next, last edited August 4th 2011: “A Generation Waiting For Dad to Come Home”. I remember this one. I was very angry with you for some reason. Probably not YOU specifically, but the royal “you”. Including me apparently. This rant went a little something like this:

“I don’t mean any of this personally, I’m not here to point out anything that I don’t also know applies as much, if not more so, to myself. I’m part of the generation waiting for dad to come home. I’m the poster boy for a decade or two of men and women who are now in their quarter to mid life and are still drifting, waiting, praying, screaming for someone to tell them what to do, where to go, how to be, when to act and when to just shut the fuck up and go away. We are not the most irresponsible generation. We are the product of the most irresponsible generation. And we’re making the next one. And if that doesn’t scare the shit out of you, I’m not surprised.”

Now, I’m not sure what you did to upset me so much, but I was clearly unhappy about something. The next piece gives me a little more insight on the source of my rage though:

“Maybe it’s where I grew up, maybe it’s where I am now. Maybe I’m just seeing a concentrated sample of something that isn’t nearly as prevalent as I fear it is. I doubt it. I know this doesn’t apply to everyone in this demographic, but it applies to the great many of us that I’ve observed. I look around me and I see a sea of dudes and bros, chicks and babes and people who have never really known want or hardship, yet know a boundless sense of self importance and entitlement. A great many of you are reading this right now on a box of magic that fits comfortably in the palm of your hand. Technology that our very recent ancestors could never have dreamed of. But it’s not enough for us. For some reason, we’ve been handed everything that the greatest thinkers of all of human creation could ever be laughed at for imagining, and it’s not good enough, we somehow feel entitled to more, without having earned even a fraction of what we have already.”

What passes for esteem in the "Generation Waiting For Dad to Come Home"
What passes for esteem in the “Generation Waiting For Dad to Come Home”

This seems to be pretty clearly influenced by my level of hatred for, but not limited to, the hollow, empty, entitled, worthless denizens of Hollywood California USA. One of the reasons I’ve found myself back in Sacramento now is my fear that if I were to remain in Hollywood for much longer I would simply implode in a brilliant flash of purple light, opening a tear in space time which would almost instantaneously swallow the whole of the universe. And while I wouldn’t normally have a problem with that, saying it out loud just makes it sound selfish.

“We are a developmentally stunted narcissistic gaggle of preening assholes.”

I do believe this about the generations adjacent me. I say adjacent, as in my research, I’ve found that I somehow fall in a gap between Gen X and Gen Y, an empty sliver of time that classification seems to have forgot. I guess that’s what makes it easy for me to lob hate grenades as willy nilly as I do, looking in from the outside at all the stupidity while probably deep down inside just wishing I could belong to anything, no matter how stupid…

“And the problem with a vacuum of power and leadership, is how easily those without direction are steered and controlled.”

And here it looks like I was about to get into the political implications of a Generation Waiting For Dad to Come Home. The need for a father figure leading us to blind, lazy destruction at the hands of anyone who will scare us enough to get us to follow them. Oh, what a glorious, indignant, pointless rant on the lazy ineptitude of me and my peers it would have been… I’m glad I didn’t do more, I’m depressed just reading what I have here… Deleted.

And finally, for part 1:

“It takes a special man to wear a mustache, a brave man.”

This piece from September 22, 2011, was apparently going to be some sort of backhanded tribute to the American Mustache Institute’s “Robert Goulet Award”, which celebrates great achievements in mustachery and mustachioed Americans. My guess is that seemed to be too much of a one note joke for me to do an article on, which is probably why just 5 weeks later we embarked on Movember: an entire month dedicated to the celebration of the face shrub… Makes sense.

So, as this has gone longer than I expected, I will have to pick this up again later, continuing to do some spring cleaning here at VFoC as we return to the grind that IS online humorism. Hope you all find your way back here, we’ve got some fun things on the horizon.

Drinking: Too Much vs. Shut Up

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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.

I call this drink the "Cleaning out Daddy's Medicine Cabinet"
I call this drink the "Cleaning out Daddy's Medicine Cabinet"

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.

Cheers.

"New plan! Field trip!"
"New plan! Field trip!"

Tacos For Tolerance

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If telling hispanic latino Mexicanians that you’re going to eat a taco won’t make ’em happy, then holy frijole, what in the heck will?!

Apparently, this week the FBI arrested four East Haven, Connecticut police officers on charges that they “conspired to deprive some residents, particularly Latinos, of their constitutional rights”, including “multiple counts of excessive force, false arrest, obstruction and conspiracy”. Serious charges to be sure, but not surprising coming from East Haven, Connecticut, which many of us have long known more commonly as “The Tijuana of New England”.

Case closed right? A couple of Connecticut cops arrested for being dicks, problem solved, racism over, you’re welcome Colonial Latirican community. But SOME people just won’t accept that all racism everywhere was just ended right before their very eyes. Some hot shot reporter, bent on making a name for himself just HAD to ask East Haven Mayor Joseph Maturo in an interview about the arrest, “What are you doing for the Latino community today?”

That’s the kind of culture we’re living in. “What have you done for me lately?” We’re never satisfied with swift, decisive justice being handed down yesterday as being enough. It’s always “Sure, you single handedly defeated hate for all of time in an act that is somehow actually retroactively removing hate from past history. But me wanty more.”

So the question put before Mayor Maturo was as simple as it was gallingly selfish. “What are you doing for the Latino community today?” and his answer was as brave as it was compassionate.

“I might have tacos when I go home. I’m not quite sure yet.”

Lover of Tacos, Mayor Joseph Maturo
Lover of Tacos, Mayor Joseph Maturo
Ta-da! You’re welcome brownies! He MIGHT have “tacos”, MULTIPLE, when he gets home; for the Latino community. What more could the community of Latinio possibly NEED?

But SOMEHOW this has been taken as a negative, a slight, a SLUR even by the masses of legals choking the employment lines of East Haven! But how, HOW I ask you, is actively participating in a people’s known love of a popular food item in any way derogatory? How is his partaking in this native treat not aiding the Latino community? He is bringing much needed attention to the Hispanol communities rich culture and tradition and in all likelyhood supporting a local Laspanic business, by possibly purchasing up to SEVERAL authentic south of the border food stuff treats!

But SOME people don’t see it that way. Some people, like attorney David Rosen, “an attorney representing several Latino residents and business owners suing the East Haven police department for alleged civil rights violations” who called this heartfelt attempted support and thoughtful participation in Latino culture “appalling”.

Others though do make very level headed, clear arguments that help you to see the broader effect of well meaning gestures like Mr. Maturo’s. Others like Matt DeRienzo, editor of several local Connecticut publications, including the esteemed New Haven Register, the Middletown Press, the Register Citizen and the Connecticut Magazine who saw through the fog of fajita steam to what the real meaning of this venomous statement was.

“Blatantly racist.”

Hater of taco lovers, Mayor Joseph Maturo
Hater of taco lovers, Mayor Joseph Maturo
It’s true, so very true and understated and in no way hysterically over blown. Mentioning corn shelled meaty ingestibles in relation to people who often prepare and ingest them is clear, bald faced racism. I don’t know how I couldn’t see it as exactly what it was.

But it was more than that, as Mr. DeRienzo continued in his perfectly reasonable, entirely cogent and fair examination of the true nature of the Mayor’s evil soulless enjoyment of tacos.

“Let’s not mince words,” DeRienzo wrote.

“The thin translation of Maturo’s taco comment is, ‘I am a full human being and you are less than one.’”

Yes, let us not “mince” words when talking about taco racism and the dehumanization of those that love them but object to being known to love them. The translation is so thin as to almost be non-existent:

“If you love tacos, I am better than you.”

You are scum Mayor Maturo! Heartless scum who should never sully the good name of tacos again as long as you slink across this planet like the snake that you are!

Or you are a hero and champion of right and tolerance everywhere, punching hatred in the fucking face where ever the fuck you see it!

There is no middle ground here. In this argument only the most ludicrously extreme reaction is the right one. It couldn’t just be that some guy dealing with some shit said something stupid that we should all just get the fuck over.

Never that.

Going Green to the Grave

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Alrighty hippies, here’s your chance to really put your carbon footprint where your mouth was.

A facility in Durham, England is ready to turn your last act of selfish global pollution into the greenest of green energies. Why let your rotting remains just disintegrate in the ground, a skeleton in a fine suit and a frilly cushioned box being all lazy and just taking up space as subterranean litter when it could be powering 1,500 television sets for an entire hour!

That’s right, I’ll bet you didn’t even know that when you die and bury your sweet, flammable flesh, you are wasting “as much as 150 kilowatt-hours” of usable body heat?! Well you are, Mr. Thinks My Dumb Dead Body Is So Damned Important.

Bio-fuel is people! It's PEOPLE!
Bio-fuel is people! It's PEOPLE!

This new and exciting way of making use of your corporeal garbage is coming to the old world because apparently in some parts of Europe the cremation rate is over 90 percent. I imagine that is mostly out of necessity as it’s generally referred to as the old world because people have been dying there for a long time and while digging under existing graves to bury new bodies SOUNDS like the most logical solution in my mind, it has been pointed out on numerous occasions by multiple individuals that my mind don’t work so pleasant extra bucks. So with an estimated (by me) 68% of Europe’s land mass already filled with the plague ridden bodies of Ghost Knights the options for corpse disposal are sort of limited.

While here in the good ol’ USA less than 50% of Patriotic Ameri-deaths result in post mortal immolation. We’ve got plenty of land, generously given to us by the plague ridden bodies of Ghost Indians in which to place the beloved remains of our beloved beloveds. And anyway, we’re Americans, it’s kind of our thing to make sure we waste as much of the planet as possible to make sure Jesus can see how much we’re enjoying ourselves. So don’t worry American dead and dying, this sort of answer isn’t going to come to this side of the pond until we’re already burning enough bodies to make it worth the crematorium’s while.

But that day may be coming. Owner and CEO of Florida based B&L Cremation Systems, operator, cremation engineer and all around fan of ashening the dead, Steve Looker, between mirthless cackles and rubbing his dry, cold hands together in a dark, hollow glee, said. “Over the next 10 years, with the baby boomers coming through, cremation is going to reach 75 to 80 percent. Then, this might be feasible.” Oh, to live your life, excitedly awaiting the mass extinction of a generation as a boon to your bottom line. But, I suppose it’s better than just letting them stack up and smell, so, more power to the creepy bastard wishing death upon millions as soon as possible.

I can’t say which side I come down on the burial vs. cremation subject myself. On one hand I have a place I can call my own for all eternity, or until my head stone is misplaced, or I’m dug up for after-after party necrotic sexy times. And if I’m all still intact, there’s still the chance that I could live again in undead form. While on the other hand, I could be reduced to an easy to carry travel size me. My loved ones wouldn’t have to get in the car and make a big trip of it to visit me, they could just high five the can full of me on the entertainment center. And there’s still the chance that I could maybe have an undead after life, but this one would be in the form of a kick ass Sandmanesque living ash cloud!

I want my tombstone to read "AHHHHH!!!"
I want my tombstone to read "AHHHHH!!!"

It’s kind of a push when I think about it. The only problem I see with being used as an alternative source of energy is that then the hippies would win, and by God, I can’t allow that to happen. So I think the only way I’m going to accept cremation is if it’s going to come by means of me leading police in a high speed pursuit after robbing a whole food grocery outlet, losing control of my stolen electric vehicle and plowing headlong into a gas station in the middle of refueling, taking out the entire city block in a towering ball of fire that can be seen from space…

Gotta add that one to the “death journal”.

Cut It Out China! You're Freaking Us Out!

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China is going to murder us from the sky! How do I know? The Googles! The Googles told me!

GOOGLES!

Alright, let me back up here, this may require slightly more explanation than me shouting “The Googles” at you until it makes sense. That could take days. Days that WE DON’T HAVE!

First, take a look at this and tell me what you see…

Tasteful lattice work or map of your grave? China knows.
Tasteful lattice work or map of your grave? China knows.

If you said anything other than “The Godless Red Chinese Communist heathens plotting our horrible deaths at the hands of their highly trained elite death guard” then you’re fooling yourself, Jack! I look at that and I see lasers from the fuckin’ SKY man! Lasers and… nuclear…ness! Nuclear death lasers in the sky! Ready to wipe us AND the debt that we never plan to pay back, clear off the face of their Earth!

And I’m not the only lunatic that sees what’s just layin’ right there, out in the open, ready to be Google mapped by just any lunatics with an internet connection and a government tracking device implanted in their dental work! Clear thinking, level headed, reasonable people, immediately branded as “conspiracy theorists” by some and “lunatics with an internet connection and a government tracking device implanted in their dental work” by others, can clearly see what we have on our hands here: the Chinese Area 51!

Dun dun DUN!

We in America have an Area 51, we call it “Area 51” and just like our very real and very not just clumps of pixellated cosmic rays Martian bases, Area 51 is super real. And based on that absolute fact of reality we then have to assume that the Chinese Area 51, which we’ll call “the Chinese Area 51” for short, is also very real. And keeping in line with this freight train of logic that I’m hurtling along on, because once I start it’s very damaging to what is left of my fragile psyche to stop and think about the reasonability or “sense” of anything that I’m saying for risk of shattering the thin layer of sanity holding together this undulating mass of violently, unpredictable crazy; the Chinese too must be holding their own space alien ship and or crew hostage as we have been in the American Area 51 which I will heretofore refer to as “the American Area 51″… for short.

Now, what was I saying? Oh, right, China is going to sky murder us.

The popular theories from those that the media have been dismissing as “conspiracy theorists” is that these appear to be “solar energy facilities” or “test ranges for Chinese missiles, to simulate the street grids of cities.”

Since we know that most residents of China inhale most of their oxygen with a spoon it’s very unlikely that these are “solar energy facilities”. So the next possibility: missile ranges simulating the street grids of cities. And what theoretical city might the Chinese have patterned this completely fictitious street grid after on which to test their fire power? Well, it just so happens that one person has claimed that this is a replica of the Washington D.C. street layout! Yeah! That warmth in your chair is from where you just crapped your pants! I know it! I’m living it!

But now that I think about it, all of this is simply too easy. Chinese orbital battle platforms testing their might against the outlines of our nation’s capital? Right China, like THAT’S what you’re up to. You see, my hyper-brain sees an infinite number of potential explanations for these unexplainable land formations. I look beyond the obvious to the ludicrous, because somewhere between those points, the truth is pointing and laughing at us all. And I punch that bastard “truth” in the face and say, “Hey! That’s fuckin’ rude, guy!”

Now, it is obvious that this is an exact one to one recreation of the street system of Washington D.C., I don’t think that point is in question. Where I disagree is that it is a missile range. I see this for what it clearly is, or more accurately, what it WILL be. Ladies and gentlemen of God’s America, I present to you “America 2”.

Hear me out…

China, as we speak, is hard at work building an exact replica of the United States near the border of Mongolia. Then, as each America 2 city is completed, the Chinese government will kidnap the Americans living in the America-Classic equivalent city and transport them in the night to their new Chinese American homes. So you go to sleep one night in American Washington D.C., then the next morning you wake up in China American Washington D.C., never the wiser! As more America 2 cities are completed, those citizens will again be transported until eventually all of what was the United States is completely empty and ready to be conquered by our new land lords!

Now, you may be asking yourselves, “How did this one man figure out the most devious plot that has ever been hatched in the history of warfare? We should shower him with riches beyond his clearly limitless imagination.” And I thank you for that, but I do these things not expecting to be grotesquely rewarded with all that I could ever need for the rest of my waking moments. I do it for you, the loyal fans. Not so that we can rise up and stop this from happening, I’m not entirely sure that it hasn’t happened already and we’re just seeing images from the initial planning stages of this insidious plot now so that our conquerors can screw with out heads. I’m doing this so that when we do meet someday in our new America 2 streets we can nod to one another knowingly, you can say “You’re the guy that knew.” I can shrug humbly, then you can buy me a drink and we can reminisce about what we remember from when we were American Americans and not American Chinese Americans.

That is, before we have to get back to our stations, tasting poison for no apparent reason. Hey, a job’s a job…

Our future shift supervisor Lee Chin. He can fly, so, we kinda have to do what he says...
Our future shift supervisor Lee Chin. He can fly, so, we kinda have to do what he says...

Cut It Out China! You’re Freaking Us Out!

Posted on

China is going to murder us from the sky! How do I know? The Googles! The Googles told me!

GOOGLES!

Alright, let me back up here, this may require slightly more explanation than me shouting “The Googles” at you until it makes sense. That could take days. Days that WE DON’T HAVE!

First, take a look at this and tell me what you see…

Tasteful lattice work or map of your grave? China knows.
Tasteful lattice work or map of your grave? China knows.

If you said anything other than “The Godless Red Chinese Communist heathens plotting our horrible deaths at the hands of their highly trained elite death guard” then you’re fooling yourself, Jack! I look at that and I see lasers from the fuckin’ SKY man! Lasers and… nuclear…ness! Nuclear death lasers in the sky! Ready to wipe us AND the debt that we never plan to pay back, clear off the face of their Earth!

And I’m not the only lunatic that sees what’s just layin’ right there, out in the open, ready to be Google mapped by just any lunatics with an internet connection and a government tracking device implanted in their dental work! Clear thinking, level headed, reasonable people, immediately branded as “conspiracy theorists” by some and “lunatics with an internet connection and a government tracking device implanted in their dental work” by others, can clearly see what we have on our hands here: the Chinese Area 51!

Dun dun DUN!

We in America have an Area 51, we call it “Area 51” and just like our very real and very not just clumps of pixellated cosmic rays Martian bases, Area 51 is super real. And based on that absolute fact of reality we then have to assume that the Chinese Area 51, which we’ll call “the Chinese Area 51” for short, is also very real. And keeping in line with this freight train of logic that I’m hurtling along on, because once I start it’s very damaging to what is left of my fragile psyche to stop and think about the reasonability or “sense” of anything that I’m saying for risk of shattering the thin layer of sanity holding together this undulating mass of violently, unpredictable crazy; the Chinese too must be holding their own space alien ship and or crew hostage as we have been in the American Area 51 which I will heretofore refer to as “the American Area 51″… for short.

Now, what was I saying? Oh, right, China is going to sky murder us.

The popular theories from those that the media have been dismissing as “conspiracy theorists” is that these appear to be “solar energy facilities” or “test ranges for Chinese missiles, to simulate the street grids of cities.”

Since we know that most residents of China inhale most of their oxygen with a spoon it’s very unlikely that these are “solar energy facilities”. So the next possibility: missile ranges simulating the street grids of cities. And what theoretical city might the Chinese have patterned this completely fictitious street grid after on which to test their fire power? Well, it just so happens that one person has claimed that this is a replica of the Washington D.C. street layout! Yeah! That warmth in your chair is from where you just crapped your pants! I know it! I’m living it!

But now that I think about it, all of this is simply too easy. Chinese orbital battle platforms testing their might against the outlines of our nation’s capital? Right China, like THAT’S what you’re up to. You see, my hyper-brain sees an infinite number of potential explanations for these unexplainable land formations. I look beyond the obvious to the ludicrous, because somewhere between those points, the truth is pointing and laughing at us all. And I punch that bastard “truth” in the face and say, “Hey! That’s fuckin’ rude, guy!”

Now, it is obvious that this is an exact one to one recreation of the street system of Washington D.C., I don’t think that point is in question. Where I disagree is that it is a missile range. I see this for what it clearly is, or more accurately, what it WILL be. Ladies and gentlemen of God’s America, I present to you “America 2”.

Hear me out…

China, as we speak, is hard at work building an exact replica of the United States near the border of Mongolia. Then, as each America 2 city is completed, the Chinese government will kidnap the Americans living in the America-Classic equivalent city and transport them in the night to their new Chinese American homes. So you go to sleep one night in American Washington D.C., then the next morning you wake up in China American Washington D.C., never the wiser! As more America 2 cities are completed, those citizens will again be transported until eventually all of what was the United States is completely empty and ready to be conquered by our new land lords!

Now, you may be asking yourselves, “How did this one man figure out the most devious plot that has ever been hatched in the history of warfare? We should shower him with riches beyond his clearly limitless imagination.” And I thank you for that, but I do these things not expecting to be grotesquely rewarded with all that I could ever need for the rest of my waking moments. I do it for you, the loyal fans. Not so that we can rise up and stop this from happening, I’m not entirely sure that it hasn’t happened already and we’re just seeing images from the initial planning stages of this insidious plot now so that our conquerors can screw with out heads. I’m doing this so that when we do meet someday in our new America 2 streets we can nod to one another knowingly, you can say “You’re the guy that knew.” I can shrug humbly, then you can buy me a drink and we can reminisce about what we remember from when we were American Americans and not American Chinese Americans.

That is, before we have to get back to our stations, tasting poison for no apparent reason. Hey, a job’s a job…

Our future shift supervisor Lee Chin. He can fly, so, we kinda have to do what he says...
Our future shift supervisor Lee Chin. He can fly, so, we kinda have to do what he says...

Which Angry, Hurtful, Bitter Lover Type Are You?

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We’ve been seeing each other for a while now, 10 1/2 months is an eternity for most relationships. We like to think we’ve been a very attentive partner, but we know there’s been times when we’ve taken you for granted. It’s nothing conscious, it’s not because you’ve gained weight, we think that’s sexy, it means you’re comfortable with us. What we’re saying is, we’re taking this relationship seriously and are trying to take a look at ourselves, and see if this is going to work out.

I found a survey this morning on CNN.com from health.com. Now, if this were some bullshit from health.org or health.net or bonerstrengthsuperplus.edu I wouldn’t be taking it anywhere this seriously. But these guys clearly had to be around since the dawn of the internet to get that kind of prime URL real estate, so they can obviously be trusted to be experts on all subjects related to the health of any living thing. It’s pretty all encompassing, and when you think about the magnitude of their promise to the internet, you almost have to kind of feel sorry for them. But I’m digressing, and while I know you think that’s one of our more indearing qualities, I need to focus, this is for us. So shushy now, baby. Shushy shush.

Their article explains:

Experts say there are six different ways you can be in love, and your love style may change over the course of your relationship.

The purest, most beautiful example of true love ever recorded on film.
The purest, most beautiful example of true love ever recorded on film.

Oh, to be a love expert. It seems that all of life’s little problems would certainly be solved were one to be an expert in love. I wonder what type of schooling a love expert must complete to earn the title of “Dr. Love”. I’ll tell you what type, the school of life, brother. Because that’s where love happens. Love doesn’t happen in a book, or a web site, or an alley behind the coffee shop where you and your new friend just sat through your court appointed AA meeting. Love happens in your face, and occasionally on your face, and you’ve got to be ready to see it, know it and tell it “Hey, I know you, you’re love, I’m all up in everything you are.” And love will see you and blush and smile, and Jack, you’re all up in love’s under panties from there until the universe fucking explodes as long as you don’t stick your love in any of love’s friends.

I like to think of myself as a semi-professional expert on all things love and romance. In the school of love I major in romance with a double minor in “Uhh” and “You like that?” And being a pursuer of this elusive thing called love, I am always learning, always striving to answer the questions that love presents me. So when no less than health.com asks me, “Which is your love style?” well you better believe that I’m going to answer the hell out of that mostly rhetorical question. And hard.

The romantic

You love being in love. You may be swept away by your new lover’s looks or other appealing physical attributes — and disappointed when they change over time.

I do, indeed, LOVE being in love. If someone were to ask me the thing that I loved most in life, without blinking I would say “love”. If they were to ask what I loved second, I would blink and tell them “loving love”. And while physical attributes are certainly one of the things that I love loving, it’s not the only thing to be loved. Certainly breasts, the “Hey there” and “Look at me” of the female anatomy catch the eye like two suckable mounds of flesh aching to be ogled, and the shapely bottom, so curvy and spankable scream at the top of their butt lungs, “I am personality, I am things that we have in common!” but… what were we saying again? Ah yes, butt lungs.

The list-maker

“You have criteria that are important, and you won’t change them,” Schwartz says. Even if you’re in a committed relationship, you may put too much pressure on your partner to live up to your standards.

The “Schwartz” referenced above is apparently “Dr. Pepper Schwartz, Ph.D., a sociology professor at the University of Washington in Seattle”. I can only assume that she would be one of the experts in question, since she is being presented as such. But it seems to me that this is more a complaint about past experiences rather than an honest classification of lover. I am deeply sorry that “Pepper” has been hurt in the past for not trying to reach even the most simple and basic requirements of love, but I hardly think that here, now, in this arena of love expertism, is the proper place to air her grievances against an ex who has supposedly wronged her. She does not so much seem to classify this as a “type of love person” as calling this “type” of lover “a fucking prick who I could never fucking satisfy no matter how hard I never tried!”

 The obsessive

You want to spend all your time with your partner. And you constantly worry about your relationship, even when you’ve been together for years. Schwartz says this kind of partner can be overbearing or have highs and lows that drive her significant other crazy.

Oookay. I am starting to see a pattern here. This is clearly not a list of the types of lover you may or not be, but the types of people who have hurt Dr. Pepper Schwartz, Ph.D., sociology professor at the University of Washington in Seattle. I came into this article expecting to explore the many varied ways in which we as human animals legitimately love one another, emotionally, spiritually, in the butt, and instead have simply found the tear soaked rantings of a “love expert” repeatedly hurt by the very thing she professers her unquestioned knowledge of. Your expertise is in question Pep, by no greater authority than I, Loveiticus 9, defender of love in all of its dirty, sticky forms.

The giver

You may give more than you get. “At some point, you find that it’s all going one way,” Schwartz says. You’re constantly working selflessly to meet your partner’s needs, but you’re not looking after you.

How much more can Pepper do for you? You ungrateful slovenly fuck! She has no life outside of professing sociology inside the claustrophobic walls of the University of Washington in Seattle, and coming home to find you in your under pants playing Call of Duty and talking dirty to some fourteen year old boy over the headset! No she won’t play too, she doesn’t like video games, she likes sociology and love and being an expert. Did you even look for a job today? How many pizza boxes are you going to stack before Dr. Pepper Schwartz, Ph.D., sociology professor at the University of Washington in Seattle is killed by their inevitable toppling?

The player

You love courtship. “For these lovers, the chase is a lot of it,” Schwartz says. You’re easily bored in long-term relationships, though, and your eye may roam.

You son of a bitch! Fine, you know what? Fine. Just fine! Go ahead then, run off with her, she’s nineteen, her tits are firm and perky, she doesn’t smell like sociology books and vending machine sandwiches. After everything Pepper has done for you, she just wasn’t enough? She let you put your finger in her butt just to make you stop begging and this is how you treat her!? Well we hope this “barista” skank has syphilitic herpes crabs and your balls fall off!

The pal

Love seems to creep up on you. One day you think, “Wow, I’ve really been spending a lot of time with Jack,” then realize you’re in love. In the long term, your relationship may be quiet, but it’s strong.

Oh Jack, it’s always been you hasn’t it? I can’t believe Pepper never noticed it until now. The way you open the door for her or nod hello when she passes you in the halls of the University of Washington in Seattle. But you’re from two different worlds. You’re a maintenance man, rough hands bending materials to your will, solving complicated mechanical problems with your hard earned knowledge and lateral thinking. And she’s a Ph. D. in sociological professoring. It could never work, could it? Oh, I guess she’s just a dreamer. THE DREAMER! Type 7! Oh Pepper, you’ve got a WHOLE ‘nother paper on your hands!

Ain’t love horrible and inequitable?

We'll all die alone, a lifetime of regrets the last thought in our mind... SMOOCHES!
We'll all die alone, a lifetime of regrets the last thought in our mind... SMOOCHES!