Science

British "Man" Gives Birth: Lose Your Fucking Mind and Hate Him!

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We live in an amazing, Technicolor, sci-fi world. A world where you can almost literally be anything you want. I mean, you can’t actually be, say, a cat or a polar bear. But you can dress up like them and fuck other people dressed up like zebras and mice, which is basically all you would want out of that kind of life anyway. So, no, you can’t actually be anything you want, modern science hasn’t quite gotten us THAT far, but say you’re a woman and you don’t like that, you can be a man. Then say, you’re a man now, but you want to be a mommy. “Tough shit” you say? “You made your penis and now you have to lie on it!” Well that’s where you’re wrong gender Nazi! Now you can have your masculinity and your mother’s day too!

Wait, follow me here: A man in England, who was a woman in England is now a mom… dad… in England.

Why is this news I hear you asking? People push smaller people out of the appropriate organs every day, what makes this special? Well I’ll tell you. It’s a freak! Look and point at the freak thing doing a freak thing that makes us uncomfortable! Any time anyone different does something normal, people shit their pants.

What grabs the attention initially is “Man has baby” which is not true. A man did not have a baby. Let’s get that straight. A woman, now identifying them self as a man after surgeries and hormone treatments, who looks very much like a human man as long as he’s wearing pants but who still possesses working lady innards, had a baby. Now I’m not saying that he isn’t a man now or maybe wasn’t all his life and now just externally matches the person he was all along internally. What I’m saying is that this is not a person born a man, with male baby making mechanics, giving birth to a child. This is a biological woman with all of the inner workings as such, doing what those things do. So cut it out with “Man Has Baby! Holy Fuck!”… You’re not helping.

Cut it our y'all, I'm all powerful. Fer serious!
Cut it our y'all, I'm all powerful. Fer serious!

But even then, that’s STILL not the real reason anyone is taking notice of this. It grabs the attention sure, but once someone reads “man with left over lady parts” they understand that a miracle has not occurred. And maybe that’s part of the problem. Maybe it would be better if it WERE miraculous. ‘Cause there’s no other reason that the news that somebody with the appropriate parts (the very same that God done gived ’em to make it possible) having a baby should be a big thing to anyone, except of course, you know; God.

It seems, for an all knowing, all powerful, omnipotent creator of everything everywhere ever, this “God” fellah sure seems to get his mighty will gone against an awful lot. Fortunately there are plenty of defenders of this flimsy excuse for a deity ready to call these disgusting perverts who have had babies the way they were designed to, monsters who have destroyed any chance of happiness for the people they just made.

“We have to sit up and consider these things,” Busy body, Josephine Quintavalle, of ‘Comment on Reproductive Ethics’ said when no one asked. “I don’t think it is in the interests of the child to distort nature this way. We are prepared to do anything possible to fulfill the rights of the adult. But I think it is at the expense and rights and welfare of the child.”

She went on to say that “there needs to be a proper inquiry in to the issues surrounding these births.”

To which I can’t help but wonder: why?

A person with ovaries walks into a doctor’s office and asks for help in creating another human being who may or may not also own a set of ovaries, depending on the whimsical fancy of an invisible sky grandpa. The doctor gives the womb owner magic lady juices to make their parts more baby ready. Some time later, usually a couple score months and then some, VIOLA! Baby!

What makes one baby maker less ethically acceptable than another? A beard? Because a good amount of lady ladies have facial hair problems, this one just seems to be more comfortable with it. What makes the soft, smooth mother with fertility assistance more fit to mother than the gruff, less traditional mother? If this man woman had perhaps had a dozen children and a reality show, would the ethics then be less of a sticky wicket?

Trevor Stammers, director of medical ethics at St Mary’s University College, London, said: “You are hardly going to end up with a baby that’s going to have a happy, productive and optimal childhood.”

Now you’re just being a dick Trevor Stammers, director of medical ethics at St. Mary’s University College, London. And I fucking assume it’s a college if it has “University” in the name you redundant cunt.

Is that a beer gut or do you just have a secret womb destroying God and family?
Is that a beer gut or do you just have a secret womb destroying God and family?

What “Mr.” Stammers is saying, is that this horrible, selfish person, who bore this child solely to mock creation and “Mr.” Stammers’ basic belief system, has damned this child to an unhappy, unproductive, unoptimal childhood. Because this person decided that they more associated with manliness than ladyliness, but still wanted to have a child with the equipment that they were given, they are somehow unfit to raise a child in anything but a hellish state of Godless confusion.

OR, Mr. Stammers is a fucking hateful douche who’s own carefully shaped world view, molded by a pretty mommy with boobies and makeup, is a living example that how frilly your mom is don’t really dictate your potential future seething unhappiness.

Love is love people. And doesn’t it stand to reason that someone who loves them self more due to choices they’ve made to re-shape their lives, will likely be able to bestow upon their child a pretty solid level of unreserved love. It seems a family with this sort of base will likely be hindered less by judgement and shame, except of course for all of the judgement and shame heaped upon them by the outside world who’s been taught by good, wholesome families to judge and shame.

Read your own books folks. This flawless lord of yours told you to love. That message seems to be pushed aside by your searching out reasons where you think your book tells you to hate and justifications for why you do. But I’ll take a thousand dickless dads over a single nuclear family that says man mom is wrong to bring a child into the world because his life choice makes them feel icky.

1 Vagina, 2 Vagina, 3 Vagina, 4

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As a guy, when I first heard about this story, my first impression is “fuck yeah, let’s do this!”, but when I didn’t get a return call, I had a lot of time to reflect on the situation. Let’s rewind shall we?

As I stumbled around my living area this morning, I, what my grandparents would say, “turned on the news”. Turning on the news back in day meant walking up to a huge wooden box and pulling a button and waiting 30 seconds for the tube to warm up and an image to appear on the screen. But when I say it, turning on the news means swiping the “slide to unlock” on my little black half pack of cards made of glass and plastic. And that’s a lot of words to have to go through to get to the girl with the double-vagina part of the story. A young Australian woman, Hazel Jones, revealed that she has an extremely rare medical condition, two vaginas.

Now, back to the beginning, as a guy when you hear a story about a woman with a double-va-J-J, you get really close to your computer monitor and hope to see how you can buy tickets to the ride, and you hope that there’s a freaky clip on YouTube somewhere, not because I’m a perv, but because I enjoyed science class as a kid. But then I got to thinking of the logistics of having a 3-sum with one other person, it’s perplexing and stressful all at the same time.

Wait !! Two of them ???
1. Finding the Grafenberg Spot is practically impossible for a mere mortal, but when you’ve got two spots to find on a non-existent map, fogettahboutit, get me a beer and something that makes me feel good about myself.

2. Hand cramps and lockjaw. Look, I’ve got some serious skills but trying to sing all the parts of a barber shop quartet by yourself is like trying to fill the van’s gas tank by farting in it, it’s possible, but it’s gonna take a LONG time. If you wanna make this woman happy, you’ve got to be a concerto pianist and a champion yodeler. Yodelers use their tongue to yodel right?

3. And the final word on the stress of all this, what seems to be awesome situation, pregnancy.

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

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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.
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!"
"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.
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!

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

Posted on Updated on

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.
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!"
"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.
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!

GIANT Size Uncanny X-Apendages? Science Says: Shape Matters

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Evolution, it’s happening right now, right under our stupid little noses, which will naturally one day evolve the ability to smell color so that the blind can understand rainbows.

But yesterday, Science thought it would share what it had found out about evolution happening a little farther under our noses. Around the area that I’ve often refered to as the “nose of the pelvis”. Ask anyone, that’s what I call it.

Genitals and Science: two of our favorite topics here at Van Full of Candy converging in one handy study. If only alcohol had somehow been involved in these findings it would have been a perfect storm of topicry. But really, when ever there’s a story of the study of the evolution of beetle genitalia, it’s pretty likely that alcohol was in there at some point, and more likely at the genesis of the idea. And not surprisingly when it’s nerds examining groin importance, the first finding is that size doesn’t matter. Predictable nerds. Shape, these minisculely hung lab hermits at Indiana University say, is what matters more in genitalogical evolution.

The genitals of tomorrow, TODAY!
The genitals of tomorrow, TODAY!

Now, many of us have seen more than our own particular configuration. Whether it be at he gym, in the pelvic inspection office you work in or at your weekly orgy pot luck get togethers, we’re seen several other varieties of our own style of bits. In those instances when you have seen someone else’s unmentionables, either by unfortunate chance, or by very careful observation finally bearing fruit… crotch fruit… You have likely seen something that both horrified and intrigued you and then horrified you again.

A penis bent at an impossible angle, boggling your mind at what positions this unfortunate might have to maintain in order to accomplish what could charitably be called “humpin'”. Or perhaps labia so out of control you can’t be certain it’s not growing toward you every time you take your eye off of it, leaving you in a horrible position of not wanting to look away, while at the same time wanting nothing more in the world than to look away and burn your top layers of eye off.

Those, are apparently evolved genitalia.

Now, no where in this study or article does it SAY that. The research and findings are based entirely on “data from scarab beetle populations”, but I like to think that I’m merely extrapolating the next obvious conclusion based on my general lack of knowledge and daring leaps in logic that is truly the basis for all advancements in the understanding of our world around us. Only I seem to have the bravery to call these knotted, floppy bits of confusing flesh what they seem to be, a great leap forward in future boning.

According to these findings in beetles, which, as we all know, share over 99% of the genetic markers of humans*, genital divergence between species is noticable in at little as 50 years of “genital evolution”. Which naturally got me to thinking, which generally speaking is never any good for anyone.

All New, All Different Genitals!
All New, All Different Genitals!

The X-Man; follow me on this one. Mutants in the X-Men line of comicy books as produced by the Marvel company, are often refered to as the “next step in human evolution”. These X mans first appeared in the Marvel brand comiced book “The X-Men #1” in 1963, NEARLY 50 years ago. So in addition to the strange and unusual powers that these mutant threats possess, you can add strange and unusual junks in the worn on the outside of their pants, trunks! Just extrapolating from the powers that we know these mutants possess I can probably fairly accurately imagine the horrible mutant penis powers they have concealed from the public. Wolverine and his three metal dongs, springing from his hips on command being just the tip of the penisberg!

It all used to be so easy. We all knew that when the pants came off, everything would work itself out just fine. But now, science tells us that even that is no guarantee anymore. Way to go science, just because you weren’t getting any was no reason for you to go and make me wary of potential interconnectivity issues I may have with the lady friend I bring home after a night of plying her with “get ta know ya” juice at my local alcohol room. How I miss the good old days when my only worry was whether or not she was going to pass out before she threw up on me, or throw up on me before she passes out… Simpler times…

* Likely not true, but don’t quote me one way or the other. But if you do want to quote me, feel free to use this one: “You won’t be enslaving the beautiful Nymphomians TODAY, Evil General Gross! Prepare to be pummeled about the face and neck by the Amazing POWER ROD!”

New Study Confirms Drinking Linked to Sex, Sun Linked to Daylight

Posted on Updated on

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!

What the HUH?!
What the HUH?!

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”.

Uh-huh…

I don't know, he seems like a responsible enough Warrior of the Realm.
I don't know, he seems like a responsible enough Warrior of the Realm.

“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?

Australia’s Great White Shark Is a Weak Ass Bitch

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Australian scientists uncovered the eyes of a 500 million year old super predator who dominated the oceans and would be considered in today’s standards, the great white shark of noicepolyolithiorianlike times. Now you’re probably wondering what the hell just finding the eyes has any relevance to this great white Australian discovery right? Well it’s because prior to this only the body of the Anomalocaris, which name I neglected to mention earlier, but figured it didn’t matter much because who really gives a shit about the names of dinosaurs, amoebas and state capitals … had been found until the alwayslookingtomaketheircountrylookbetter scientists among others of Australia decided to let this story go to show that this who has the bigger dick contest is still on, but didn’t realize that size really matters.

The eyes, don’t look into they eyes !! The Medusa of predatorial fish, the Anomalocaris had 16,000 lenses in each eye, fives times the amount of the ordinary everyday housefly. This muthafukkin barraccuda could see the muthafukkin future, but one thing it didn’t see was the ice … all that ice that buried it’s oracle ass deep in the mud off the Australian coast. Now here comes the kicker … this megakiller, this “great white shark”, this predator of predators who had no equal measured a killer whale size of a whopping 3 feet in length. Three feet? This is the horrible monster that Australia brags to take on America’s JAWS? Oh, Australia, here’s another kick to the groin, we already have a landshark with eyes that big …

Australia's Great White Shark Is a Weak Ass Bitch

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Australian scientists uncovered the eyes of a 500 million year old super predator who dominated the oceans and would be considered in today’s standards, the great white shark of noicepolyolithiorianlike times. Now you’re probably wondering what the hell just finding the eyes has any relevance to this great white Australian discovery right? Well it’s because prior to this only the body of the Anomalocaris, which name I neglected to mention earlier, but figured it didn’t matter much because who really gives a shit about the names of dinosaurs, amoebas and state capitals … had been found until the alwayslookingtomaketheircountrylookbetter scientists among others of Australia decided to let this story go to show that this who has the bigger dick contest is still on, but didn’t realize that size really matters.

The eyes, don’t look into they eyes !! The Medusa of predatorial fish, the Anomalocaris had 16,000 lenses in each eye, fives times the amount of the ordinary everyday housefly. This muthafukkin barraccuda could see the muthafukkin future, but one thing it didn’t see was the ice … all that ice that buried it’s oracle ass deep in the mud off the Australian coast. Now here comes the kicker … this megakiller, this “great white shark”, this predator of predators who had no equal measured a killer whale size of a whopping 3 feet in length. Three feet? This is the horrible monster that Australia brags to take on America’s JAWS? Oh, Australia, here’s another kick to the groin, we already have a landshark with eyes that big …

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”.

This Time For Realzies: Judgement Day, Part 2: The Judgementing

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Uh-oh, remember back in May, how the world was supposed to end with a bunch of goody goodies floating up into heaven and flashing their balls at us? And then remember how that didn’t happen and it was all hilarious? And remember how we all laughed at the guy who said the world was going to end with sack flashing god flights? And he was all like, “Well fuck you, it did happen, it was just invisible and you’ll see in six months when you’re starin’ up at my taint!” And we were all like, “Yeah, what ever crazy man, go be crazy somewhere else while we get back to not worrying about angry invisible rapture.”

"Who's got two thumbs and is gonna fuck your shit up? This God!"
"Who's got two thumbs and is gonna fuck your shit up? This God!"

Well, do you remember what day he said it was going to really happen for realzies this time? Well you know who DOES remember? Jesus.

Tomorrow, at “when ever you see believers in the sky” o’clock, this stupid little stupid planet full of stupid is gonna be over! It’s really going to happen this time! Seriously guys!

Have you noticed how many earthquakes there’ve been recently? Why, I read that just today there was one in San Francisco. SAN FRANCISCO of all places, experiencing an earth quake, co-incidentally the DAY BEFORE THE PREDICTED END OF THE FUCKING WORLD!? Did I say co-incidence? I meant NOT A GOD DAMNED CO-INCIDENCE AT ALL! And what about those floods and hurricanes and, you know, stuff. The world is flying apart at the seams people! Open your eyes!

I for one am here and now proclaiming my life long love of God and Jesus and everybody. Peter and Luke and who ever else. John, there was a John, right? I love all those mother fuckers. I always have, and I know that they’d never let their biggest fan be swallowed whole by this dying shit ball that I’ll be so glad when its gone! I’m gonna be kickin’ it up in heaven, with like, eighty tight angel ladies all complimenting me on my love of god and my indeterminate amount of abs. Me and JC and the Father, we’re all gonna hang out and laugh at the world writhing in agony below us, tip back a couple Four Lokos and play a little game of “No YOU’RE more awesome.” It’s gonna be so amazing and you’re not even gonna be there.

What? Wait, what? God’s not accepting any more applicants. On May 21st we were all judged and he’s just needed the last six months to warm up his planet splitter chain saw? Well that’s, that’s not really fair. I mean, I’ve just been comparison shopping. Like any good spiritual being, I’ve been pricing out deities, trying to find which one was right for me. ‘Cause, isn’t that what it says in the Bible, “Thou shalt have a fair amount of time to look around and make sure that you’re absolutely positive that you’ve made the best decision for you about having no other Gods before me.”? That’s in there somewhere, right?! RIGHT!?!

"Sorry bro, you are ska-rood,"
"Sorry bro, you are ska-rood,"

Oh science, I’m fucked! I’m fucked, you’re fucked, we’re all double plus super fucked! Alright, you know what? Fine. I’m good with that. I’ve lived a full, meaningful… productive… happy… life.

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Oh Darwin! Oh Einstein! Newton help me! Alright, it’s not too late. I’ve got, I don’t know, some amount of time between eight and thirty-two hours left. If I’m going to hell I’m going there like I’ve got a god damned rocket strapped to my balls!

If I hurry, I’ve still got enough time to murder a drug dealer, have sex with the corpse, steal their drugs, sell them to a kindergarten class, maybe blow up a petting zoo. Oooh! I know! I’ll steal a car with a baby in the back seat, drive it through a handicapped nun picnic before finally crashing it into the river and lighting it on fire. Then, I’ll take a stack of Bibles that I’ve been saving for just such an occasion and give them a gathered crowd of homosexuals and feminists and activist judges and abortion doctors and we’ll all stand around in a big circle and jerk each other off onto them! Afterwards, we can sacrifice a new born lamb to, I don’t know, the wind or some shit.

Unless of course you’ll still have me Jesus, in which case, I’ll try not to do most of that.

Good luck with Hell suckers! Or… See you in Hell suckers!