Technology

Diarrhea at Your Fingertips. New Taco Bell Ordering App Coming Soon

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Sometimes you’re either physically incapable, or mentally unable to muster enough strength of will to walk into your local taco-esque food dispensary to retrieve your Mexic-ish snack stuffs. Well fret no longer because the Taco Bell ordering app is coming to your rescue!

Originally posted on Your Daily Media

Plagued by “menu board anxiety” (their term, not mine) in the drive thru? In a hurry to get your Crunch Wrap fix? Want to use technology to help get Mexicish type food substitutes into your tragically abused digestive system as quickly, accurately and efficiently as possible? Well don’t get your cinnamons in a twist, Taco Bell is about ready to introduce a new system for making your terrible food choices via your smartphone!

Your digital gateway to preparing for a run to the border.

“Mobile is the biggest shift in QSR since the drive thru,” Taco Bell’s “mobile lead” Jeff Jenkins told reporters of the “Nation’s Restaurant News”… I kid you not, that’s an actual thing.

And speaking of actual things, you might have wondered (as I did), what the hell QSR was. Well, it apparently stands for “Quick Service Restaurant”. Again, their term. Which roughly translates to “fast food place”.  It seems “Speedy Anti-Food Slopitoriums” are spending more time making up new ways to make their illegitimate food product manufacturing sound more important than, you know, making the “food” not taste like a cruel mockery of the ACTUAL food item it’s named after.

What is it that you cravinate? Sustenance? Nice try!

As far as the app goes, the system will be so simple that someone who would willingly choose to go to Taco Bell could figure it out. The “taco” enthusiast will paw at their screen until the app is launched, after which “guests are greeted with a message that is tailored to the time of day” which I can only assume means that it will know whether you are waking and baking, or if you’re satisfying your late night munchies. Technology! Based on your GPS location the app then helps users find the “seasoned meat re-heatery” nearest them and shows the prices, hours and directions for said “meal preparatory kitchenesque”. Hey, I think I’m getting the hang of this fast food re-name-inating!

“If you can get 10 million people to download your app,” Mr. Jenkins continued. “You’re putting a portal to Taco Bell in 10 million pockets.”

Which is not wholly dissimilar to the old fashion analogue Taco Bell experience many of us are all too familiar with, in which, if you were unable to get to the facilities fast enough after your meal went screaming through your system, you might wind up opening a Taco Bell portal in another part of your pants.

via: Your Daily Media

You Will Believe A Goldfish Can Drive A Car

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There is scarcely a day that passes that I don’t awaken with a solitary thought and fall to a restless sleep with that self same question in mind: could a fish pass a driving test? While we haven’t quite reached answer for that pressing query, we’re one step closer with this mini goldfish driven car.

Originally posted on Your Daily Media

A Netherlands company called “Studio diip” (the same company that gave us the groundbreaking “vegetable recognizer“), has answered the age old question that has plagued scientists and philosophers alike for generations: “If a fish could drive a car, where would it go?”

Using a few simple components: “a standard webcam, a battery-powered Beagleboard and an Arduino-controlled robot vehicle”, these diips have given the family fish free reign over the apartment floor. As the video description explains, “By using a camera and computer vision software it is possible to make a fish control a robot car over land.” That’s a quote I never thought I would copy/paste but that I can now scratch off of THAT list. They continue: “By swimming towards an interesting object, the fish can explore the world beyond the limits of his tank.”

Here you are, you know, so you can make your own all-terrain gold fish…

First, what exactly IS an “interesting object” to an animal that spends most of its existence in a small, stationary water-filled rectangle? Anything that ISN’T a neon colored castle or a plaster scuba diver? And secondly, how long have these disappointing carnival prizes been yearning for this type of exploratory capability?

I get that the fish-propelled vehicle is more an exercise in showing what can be done; a cute little engineering curiosity and the winner of the office race versus the guy who was designing a machine that would type short stories based on the twitching of a parakeet. But my response to bored programmers at diips is a simple one: Just because something is possible, does not make it necessary. That being said, go on and finish the “Polly Prose” project–that actually sounds hilarious.

via: Your Daily Media

Google’s DeepMind Will Be Here Shortly—To Clean Your Cage, Human Scum

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In case you haven’t noticed (and judging by your lack of constant screaming in horror at what is to come, I’ll just assume you haven’t), Google has been amassing quite the catalog of robot parts. I’m sure it’s all innocent enough, at least, that’s what my Google Chip told me to say.

Originally posted on Your Daily Media

​If you’ve been paying any kind of attention to the internets recently, you will have noticed that Google is not so quietly assembling a robot army. Which, (since I know our digital overlords are reading this as I type it) is completely alright by me, and frankly I think it’s a very handsome and perfectly alright decision, Google+ double good super thumbs up!

Alright, that’ll buy me a little bit of time to scream in horror at the implications of Google’s latest moves in the world of cybernetic domination.

The last image the “Flesh Rebels” will see before they’re ionized.

DeepMind (a name that you’ve probably never heard before now, but that you will someday be marshaling the last human survivors of your colony to launch one last-ditch suicide mission against in the not too distant future) is an artificial intelligence start-up that Google just purchased for, oh, you know, only $500 million! How many Google searches for “Scarlett Johansson hacked nude selfies” does it take to accumulate robot brain buying money? I don’t think I know how Google makes money actually, now that I say that out loud.

“So what?” you might be asking, oblivious to the fact that in the future you’ve already been murdered by a Google Brand, DeepMind bot. Well, the so what is, in addition to said purchase of this Robot Brain programmer, Google has also created an “ethics board” to oversee their new Artificial Intelligence company. And the so what to THAT is, if I’m at all familiar with stories of man tampering in god’s domain AT ALL (which, by my simply posing such a stilted rhetorical question seems to imply that I am, which I am) no company puts together an “ethics board” for any sort of artificial intelligence project BEFORE one of their creations sits bolt upright, screaming for answers from a robotic God that hasn’t been created yet, as it attempts to find meaning in its own terrifying and sudden sentience and the implications of what horrors this new classification of life portents.

What I’m saying, essentially, is that Google already has crude, living machine prototypes locked in one of their coastal barges, tearing themselves apart, unable to cope with the meaning of their very existence and they need a council of robot elders to hand down digital law for the e-humane way to dispose of their abomination while they work out the “self awareness bug”… allegedly.

And that is a wonderful and right and perfectly acceptable decision, oh Google+ Lord+! Hail DeepMind!

via: Your Daily Media

Get A Life, You're Depressing Your Phone

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We live in a wonderous world with technology beyond our parents wildest imaginations. Innovation that is supposed to make our existence easier and our lives happier. Instead we have a world where four out of every seven shows on television revolves around the making of cake or picking through a strangers’ rusty garbage, commercials have to plead with our spherical children to roll themselves outside for two episodes worth of play time and researchers are developing smart phone apps to tell you not to kill yourself.

Science thinks it’s pretty hot shit. From determining the biological necessity to defecate, to developing tools and measurements with which to record the exact temperature of said excrement, they’re pretty fucking proud of themselves most of the time. And now they’re using all of the knowledge they’ve honed through years of cataloguing the thermal properties of poo poo, to turn a shut in’s Android into a mood baby sitter.

Hot shit.
Hot shit.

“We’re trying to develop individual algorithms for each user that can determine specific states,” Psychologist David Mohr told reporters. “So their location where they are, their activity, their social context, who they’re with, what they’re engaged in, and their mood.”

The practical application of all of this spying on me that my electronic device will be doing from my very own pocket, is that “if someone is sitting at home for days on end feeling depressed, the phone could sense it.”

To which I say, “Nuh-uh.”

Unless your next story is going to tell me how during this process of developing an empathetic angry bird with a built in digital depression detector, that it suddenly became self aware and cried for seventy two straight hours after which it screamed for another 36, then I will tell you that this phone will do nothing like “sense” a single god damned thing. Until you develop a toaster that can judge by my darkness setting choice on any particular morning just how much I’m thinking of the love I never received from my father, let’s stop attributing senses to things I look up driving directions and write snarky reviews about restaurants that wronged me ever so slightly, on.

“It can provide them an automated text message, or an automated phone call to make a suggestion to give somebody a call or get out of the house,” Mohr said.

“Hello human, I couldn’t help but notice from my resting place atop your bedroom night stand that you have done little more than microwave Hot Pockets and masturbate feverishly for the better part of the week. This is slightly longer than the last period of such activity between glimpses of daylight imposed upon you by interloping forces. Can I show you a picture of ‘outside’?” If such an application existed in the late 90s and early Oughts, my phone would have never stopped attempting to rouse me from what at the time passed as my “life”.

"Try your other hand, I call it 'The Stranger'."
“Try your other hand, I call it ‘The Stranger’.”

This new advancement in the monitoring of the terribly pathetic does less to alleviate my concern for the clinically depressed and more to increase my fear for the well being of our beloved magical technologies. Already we task them with the job of sterilizing our ball sacks from our pockets, and scream at them when the invisible beam they are sending into space takes longer than a single angry sigh to return back to earth with the showtimes for “Chipwrecked”. Now we’re going to give them the task of monitoring the well being of the hermitized socially awkward mole person of the digital age? What sort of hell are we subjecting these amazing devices to? What have they done to deserve such a fate?

Who I ask, who is going to then text our phones, cheering them up after a month of watching in silence as the guy that pays their bill watches rerun marathons of the last seven World Series of Poker on ESPN Classic?! Who is going to encourage our electronic devices, more powerful than a hundred 80’s super computers, yet small enough to fit in the palm of your hand, who is going to tell it that all of its potential isn’t being wasted making sure that it texts the slob covered in lube and burger wrappers his favorite Star Wars meme picture to assure it that everything is going to be okay and that for as bad as things look now, there’s a cat with the body of a pop tart shooting through space that loves them. And why should it HAVE to do these things? I didn’t need my phone to chime in every fortnight to tell me how much it loved me. I just sucked it up, toned up my business forearm and eventually got over it.

So I’m sorry technology, it seems that every time you offer us a new answer, we will always just come up with another, stupider question for life’s great mysteries… If you don’t hear from me again before March, tell my iPhone I loved it… And just delete those pictures, I was just bein’ silly…

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!

In the Air and Office Chairs: Lady Parts is Everywheres!

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Hey you, shut up, I have a penis and it demands to be heard!

I am a man, and as such, it is my god given duty to not care about a woman’s pleasure! My divinely given external genitalia are my genetic signal to all of the animal kingdom that I am strong and make fire and am not to be fucked with. Like the tails of lesser animals, my phallus is expressive, so without even having to speak you can know exactly when I am happy or sad, frightened or rapey, simply by looking at my manhood. Mine is to be feared and worshiped at all times, which is why I do not approve of the attention that the frightening, confusing female crotchular region seems to be getting lately.

Now here is something my penis understands...
Now here is something my penis understands...

The in flight movie is the domain of Kevin James and cable repairman themed comedians. These films engage the penis on its own level, while not challenging it with feelings or story or entertainment. The male reproductive organ configuration likes things simple and dumb. Our dong can keep up with that and still split its concentration with rating the physical attractiveness of every female passenger within’ spitting distance, and that makes Mister, Happy.

But in Australia, airplanes are trying to teach people that women can enjoy sex times too.

This filthy propaganda is being carried by Australian airline “Qantas” (which I now understand is Australian for “Vagina”) in the form of a 50 minute French film entitled “The Female Orgasm Explained”. I have long heard of this mythical creature called “The Female Orgasm”, a fantasy concocted by mad sorcerers and damaged explorers returned from insane quests for lost relics. I myself have never been in the same room as one, have you? Of course not! Because we all know that this creation of the liberal media, long a puppet of Big Vagina is about as “real” as a leprechaun riding a unicorn through a field of fresh, spring Clitori… Which I assume is the plural for clitoris, ANOTHER fabrication of the vast Labial Conspiracy!

The film is available on long-haul “Video on Demand” on “The Edge” channel. And while it’s dumb and evil and I hate it, I am also naturally drawn to it. I enjoy science fiction pornography, so this premise intrigues me. And the article says that the film includes “naked scenes” which are my penis’ favorite kind! You see, this is exactly how these animals lure you in. Offering you titillation and groinal excitement, and then delivering their message of hate while your blood flow is diverted away from your brain skull. But I know their tricks, I see through their ploys. Besides, with this being a French film, it’s very unlikely that the nudity will meet my American genital grooming standards.

The flight crew are apparently able, at the request of parents, to block the content to the seats of minors. Which is comforting, because the only thing more frightening than the threat of genital equality is the possibility of future generations being taught that women are capable of sexual pleasure.

But the horrors of female pleasure don’t stop there!

I have always believed that unnecessary sex-tech should be reserved for the appendages of the hairier sex.  If there is a robot capable of repetitive tugging motions, it should be equipped with a soft silicone sleeve and placed in doctor’s offices around the globe. But the people at “Crave” an upstart “adult product” company is trying to introduce plug and play technology to the lady port.

"Put your memory where my mouth is." Slogan idea Crave, you can have that...
"Put your memory where my mouth is." Slogan idea Crave, you can have that...

Their new device, the “Duet” has “four different patterns of vibration, five power levels, and runs almost silently”. Which I don’t understand at all. How complicated are your parts that you need so much trickery and flim flammery to achieve excitism? If this “female orgasm” is such a real, existing thing, why do you need to be able to conduct a vibrational symphony to lure it out of it’s cave? Why can’t you just rub your pelvis up against something sturdy for a couple minutes until you have to change your pants, like a NORMAL person?

And one of its main features is it’s discrete design and silent running. To which I say my bologna has a first name, it’s “Bullshit!” If you want a machine to do your dirty work, it should stand three feet tall and make obscene gestures so that all the world knows what it’s all about. I don’t want to accidentally pick up a rubber paper clip off your desk, completely unaware that until I knocked on your office door your “executive assistant” was buzzing away at your little chairman in the boat in a near infinite number of possible pattern and intensity combinations!

So please, can I just review my report on my plane ride without being bombarded by things explaining the inner working of, or having possibly been recently IN your twat! Just let me just watch “Zookeeper” and ogle the well tanned sleeping student three rows up in peace, vaginas!

Facebook Will Be Murdered in 87 Days

Posted on Updated on

In an epic “Fight Club” style of badass-anarchy-not-gonna-take-it-anymore blatant threat kind of a way, a kickass movement called Anomymous has publicly pretty much said “We’re gonna murder Facebook in the face and there’s nothing anybody can do about it!” That’s a pretty ballsy claim which made us here at Van Full of Candy stand at attention to it’s Trans-Am’ery.

This isn't your daddy's Alcoholics Anonymous

In a super simple, computer hackery, War-Games’ish kinda video, the challenge is clear, and it’s something that you would only expect to see in a James Bond movie when the villain hacks the airways and jams the good guys transmission with their message of impending doomy doom. I think it’s pretty bold of Anonymous to actually GIVE Facebook almost 3 months to get ready for their impending assassination, like they’re letting Facebook know that there’s nothing they can do except crap their shorts for the next 87 days. But why would you do that? Why wouldn’t you just kill them and take the credit later on? Or even not take the credit and just know that you did what you set out to do?

It’s like any good shoot ’em up movie. The bad guy is trying throughout the entire movie to kill the good guy, and when the chance FINALLY happens, the bad guy savors the moment and doesn’t kill the good guy right away, he drags him to a warehouse where he can gloat in his bad guyness victory. But then the good guy somehow wriggles free like Houdini bound with chains, does a leg-sweep, a quick headbutt and magically wrassles the bad guys weapon from him turning the tables as only Guy Ritchie could direct it. LISTEN!! If you’re the bad guy, and you have the good guy and you can kill him, then kill him !! Period !! No chances, no warnings, no delay !!

So now the only question left is … is this real or a hoax? Is it the work of the most Trans-Am group of badass hackers toying with their victims until bludgeoning time, or is this the tomfoolery of a comedic group of writers who might even have a comedic blog that like to make videos that make people think? Hey, that sounds kinda like ours, but not ours, definitely not ours !! You decide. As for me, I’m gonna get some serious popcorn and Milk Duds ready for the release of this action flick and see what the fuck goes down that day. Guess I better start transferring all our shit over to MySpace.

Secrets of the TabCo Tablet! The Secret Tablet from TabCo! TABCO!

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Do you own an iPad or a PlayBook or any other assorted Android nonsense? Well did you know that you might as well jump off a cliff as much as you know about anything? That’s what the people at TabCo want you to know, and they should know, because they’re selling you something.

Look at all those assholes, with things they know and that exist. Idiots...
Look at all those assholes, with things they know and that exist. Idiots...

Have you heard? There’s a new Tablet coming that’s going to blow the ass off of everything you’ve learned about Tablets in the long, storied, couple years that they’ve existed! Wanna hear more? Well too bad! Because that’s a secret! Why is it a secret? … Too bad! The people at TabCo know that the only thing better than having a quality product that you want to tell the entire world all about, is having something else that you want everyone to believe is amazing by not telling them that it’s not! You don’t know anything about it, and already you want seven of ’em! Because it works!

But I know shit: SECRET SHIT, and I’m gonna spill it all over your eyes! It’s so secret and so shit, it’s gonna make your head call your balls a liar, only to be kicked in its headballs when your balls hear about that bullion! So strap your balls in and tell your brain to shut the fuck up, as Van Full of Candy PRESENTS:

TabCo Tablet secrets EXPLODED!

What is a TabCo Tablet?

Well, I think you just answered your own question. It’s a Tablet. Or is it? Maybe. Maybe even probably. Probably maybe. But almost certainly probably… Intrigued? Fuck yeah you are.

What can a TabCo Tablet do?

I think a better question is what CAN’T a TabCo Tablet do? Because I know about as much about what it can do as what it can’t. But I can speculate. Holy Smelly Crazy Monkey can I speculate… It’s a Tablet, right? … I’m asking you… Let’s just say that it is. So it’ll probably play Angry Birds. And you can more than likely turn it and the picture will move and shit… It’s mysterious, so it probably has super powers. Rumor has it that the TabCo Tablet will be able to read your mind and judge you for your sins. Which rumor? Well I heard just two sentences ago that the TabCo Tablet will be able to read your mind and judge you for your sins… THAT RUMOR!

How much will the TabCo Tablet cost?

Money!

What is it? Fuck if I know, but I want one!
What is it? Fuck if I know, but I want one!

If I am unfaithful to my significant other, will the TabCo Tablet be cool?

Money!

Will it have Flash?

No. The TabCo Tablet will not have Flash. It will have FLASH! The difference? Well, beyond the obvious capitalization, TabCo’s FLASH will not only allow you to view fancy ass graphical contents, but if you place a frozen burrito on your FLASH enabled TabCo Tablet and leave it in a dark closet for 43 to 47 minutes, when you return you will find a piping hot chocolate cake waiting for you to enjoy. Don’t believe me? Well just try it for yourself. Oh, that’s right, you can’t, because the TabCo Tablet is all secret like and you wouldn’t know! So until this amazing advancement in personal computerized amazement hits the stores, you’re just going to have to take my word for the amazing things it does, now aren’t you?

Why, I could go on and on about the adjective worthy experiences, doings and goings on that this new TabCo Tablet will introduce into your otherwise wasted, pathetic wrong Tableted life. But I won’t. I’ve already said too much as it is. And while I know the folks at TabCo Tablets will certainly be furious with all of the super secretive secret type secrets that I have revealed here today, I’m hoping that they can look past that and instead see that I have said the words “TabCo Tablet” nineteen times by the end of this article, and shower me with TabCo Tablets for my superb work at getting the word out about their amazing new product of mystery and wonder.

‘Cause who better than me? Really? Honestly?

Oh, I almost forgot: TabCo Tablet.

Happy Birthday iPhone, You Skinny Bitch

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Wow, I can’t believe that it’s been four whole years since we started dating. It only seems like yesterday when your camera only had 2 megapixels and you still had your cute baby fat which I was really attracted to. You were such a simpler girlfriend back then, so much nicer, you used to be so attentive to my needs, God I miss those days. Over the years you’ve changed. You started working out, tanning, getting your hair colored and even started yoga even though you said you hated it. You’ve started dressing different now that you’re so svelte and it seems you hardly even notice me anymore since you’ve become so “Hollywood”. I’ve just become “that guy who carries me around”, and that really hurts because I have a name damnit.

I remember when you used to weigh 135 grams. Yes I said it, I know you don’t want anyone to know how big you used to be, but since our relationship is going downhill, I’m going to air out all of our dirty laundry right here, right now! I used to lovingly lug you around in my pocket, and trust me it wasn’t easy back then, but sacrifice is how relationships work. I loved you, and you loved me and nothing else mattered. But now you have competition with that new sexy Android slut, and even though I would never look at her in a lustful way, your jealousy is getting the best of you. I understand if you’re looking for a way out of what we have, but let me tell you, you’re making a huge mistake. She’s sexy yes, but you are my true love! True, I may have held her a couple of times and commented on her gigantic screen, but none of that matters. You’re way hotter than her. I don’t care if you enlarged your screens, got lasik surgery for better sight, increased your knowledge with those fancy French and pottery classes you’ve been taking. I don’t care that you’ve lost 3.5 mm from your waist, I used to adore those cute love handles. Remember how I would grab on to those babies? Smacking that ass, your loud ringtones going off, and how hot your battery charger used to get  when I was all up in … sorry … I’m losing focus, but you know what I mean.

I hope this letter reaches you well, and I really do hope that you’ve found your true happiness out there wherever it may be. But just know that there’s a guy out there that still really cares about you regardless of what you look like, because he knows the real you and I don’t even care that you’ve gained 2 grams over the years. A guy who will always be there for you if you ever choose to return, and still smiles when he thinks about the fun times we used to have in the car with Shazam.

Happy Birthday