A Big Week For Facebook, If Anyone Survives to See It

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We like My[_____]. We like it because it’s simple and quiet and uncluttered by unnecessary things like apps or content or other people, as well as all of the reasons we’ve previously stated. I like to go to My[_____] when ever I need to be alone to think about how wrong it all went.

It was while tending to our number one favorite social networking portal that I stumbled upon something called a faces book. This “facebook” (something which seemingly combines two of my least favorite things) is a madhouse of frenetic energy, filled with lunatics and anxiety, which the still calmness of my [_____] has protected me against.

And while the serine, unspoiled plains of My[_____] are where we prefer to spend our online time, other folks seem to prefer facebook. People like angry Canadian flight attendants, kids day dreaming of high school chainsaw bombing massacres and people planning to shoot themselves in the face at a gun range. This is what digital farming simulations are driving people to.

Thousands of flight attendants for Air Canada, unhappy with both management AND union leaders decided the best way to get what they wanted was to cry about it on facebook like a bunch of flight attendants on facebook… The simile is narrow, but appropriate.

Meanwhile in a Pittsburgh suburb a school murder spree being organize on facebook by a handful of angsty loners, like a bunch of canadian flight attendants, was foiled long before the teens involved could have forgotten that they tried to act bad ass on a glorified message board because they had to change for gym in front of that stuck up bitch Lorie who totally thinks she’s so fucking cool. In language that Ellwood City Mayor Anthony Court said, “Was a very vivid description.” the students hatched their master stroke:


Literal quote taken from the article. It went on to say that local Police “interpreted the message as Martinkovich saying he would get explosives.” Description can not, by definition, be vivid if interpretation is required to understand it.

Meanalsowhile in Ohio, a facebook using individual decided to post his suicide vlog to his profile before renting a gun at a shooting range and murdering himself in the head with it. The list of wrongs in this story is too long to really get into, so I’ll just say again, that I am still firmly anti big deadly weapon rental. This is apparently the third time in three years that someone has assassinated themselves with a loaner at this range, which (to me) begs the questions: Was it the same gun every time? What’re the odds of that? Or if when a gun is used in a rental suicide does it then have to be put down like a mountain lion that wandered into what used to be it’s neighborhood but is now a poorly placed culdesac and now has to be destroyed for being a mountain lion and doing exactly what mountain lions are designed to do rather than punishing the family that’s squatting on that mountain lion’s lawn? I’ve already firmly established that it is illegal in Texas to shoot a gun with another gun, but where do the pansies in Ohio stand in the gun on gun violence debate.

Power Gesture #7: The "Cock Length"
Power Gesture #7: The "Cock Length"

The point that I’m vaguely waving at here is that this is just the beginning of facebook based hysteria. Thursday facebook is going to be rolling out another slew of services including multimedia sharing services and  “read, watched and listened” buttons which everyone is going to reflexively hate and bitch about. Facebook has become something so indispensable to people that they’ve attached a sort of personal ownership to the thing, and any time “those assholes” that created, maintain and improve what has now become this integral piece of their existence, do even the slightest little thing to improve the site, everyone bitches about it for a week. If the folks at facebook move a link button from one column to the next on your profile thousands of users wet their pants and scream at the internet like their only friend just read their unfinished X-Men slash novella before he’d gotten to the good part where Rogue grows three penises and rapes the multiple personalities of Jean Grey! … Or a Canadian flight attendant on facebook…

So, you folks have your facebooks, and your tweeting machines and your cordless cellular telephones. I’m perfectly happy with the unflinching quiet stillness of My[_____]. Nothing happens here and we like it that way and the only bad news I ever get is another morning when I don’t find a personally typed tear drenched response to my nightly e-mail whisper to new My[_____] owner Justin Timberlake where I tell him how my day went and how I know someday we’ll be together just like Tom would want. But I know he’s a busy, beautiful man, so I simultaneously don’t hold it against him, and continue sending them, knowing that if I stopped now, I would probably worry him, and I would hate to bring a second of pain into my little Jayjay’s adorable life…

So if you need us, we’ll be on My[_____], dreaming…

Beware: Exploding Babies

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I don’t do a lot of flying, I have my reasons. One of them, certainly, is the fact that I don’t do a lot of traveling. I don’t think they have a lot of destinationless flights, and if they did, why would they? But when I do go somewhere, which as I’ve stated, I don’t, I usually don’t fly. And when ever someone asks me, trying and failing to mask their contempt and disgust like I just told them I don’t own a TV or that I’m literate, “Why don’t you fly?” I like to first joke with them “Because I wasn’t born on Krypton, a dying planet whose inhabitants my desperate father tried to warn of its impending doom. But in their arrogance they cursed him a fool and refused to listen to his pleas. Then, in defiance of the planetary council, he built an escape craft, large enough only for a tiny infant, I, their third choice for occupants, to be rocketed to the safety of a distant planet, this planet, this Earth. Though if I had been born there and had been sent here, my alien physiology would surely be fantastically affected by the radiation of this planet’s yellow sun, imbuing me with great powers, not the least of which could quite possibly be the gift of unaided personal flight.” And we laugh. And by we I usually mean me, because most of the time the people I tell that joke to will wander off midway through. Undeterred I always finish the joke, because it’s so whimsical and outrageous, it gets me every time. Krypton… where do I come up with these things?

The other reason I don’t fly is because of the ever-present threat of exploding babies.

Now you may say “Well, how big of a threat could exploding babies be? I’ve never been exploded by a baby.” To which I would say, that makes you one of the lucky ones. A statistic that I just now made up shows that three in every two people in America have been exploded by a baby. That is a true made up fact!

So when I hear of the “uproar” stemming from a photo taken by a busy body priest in Kansas City over the weekend, of brave air port security personnel putting their very lives on the line for the air faring general public by thoroughly patting down a suspicious, potentially explosive packed 8 month old, I just want to say “You shut up, you shut right the hell up before you set off that ticking baby!”

Did someone make a boom boom?
Did someone make a boom boom?

You see, Saturday the right Reverend Jacob Jester took a dirty picture of a felt up baby after he passed through security in the Kansas City International airport. The first question one might ask of course is, “Why the fuck was it any of this asshole’s god damned business in the first fucking place?” Which, despite the somewhat excessive use of vulgarity considering we’re speaking of a man of the cloth, I think is a fair question. This wasn’t the parents having a problem with it like the six-year-old from a little while back. This was a literally holier than thou air traveler who decided it was his job to make sure the world knew how he felt about baby security.

But moving past the obvious problems of a Reverend taking snap shots of child touching, we arrive at the question of “Is this TSA screening gone overboard?” An excellent question. Wait, did I say excellent? I meant dumb. A dumb, stupid question. The reason this toddler-erroist was being given the smooth hand was because it’s stroller set off an alarm during a screening for explosives (or so says the TSA). Now, the world that we currently live in necessitates us screening things like strollers for explosives. Whether or not that’s a world any of us ever imagined we’d be living in or not is another question for another day, but that’s the cold hard fact of where we are. And in this world, where people are tucking C4 under their balls and trying to light it with a Bic between peanuts and beverage service, if something sets of a “Go Boom Boom” siren, that something gets wiped with a rubber glove, no matter how adorable it might have been before we thought it could explode.

The parents, who were either trying to smuggle explosives onto a plane through very clever baby based means, or simply accidentally bought a strolled constructed from bomb, were said to be “very cooperative and the process was completely without incident” and apparently didn’t have a problem with the proceedings. They did what they had to do, which then included allowing their infant to get a little bit of the “‘ol rub ‘n tug” and then they went on their way, being transported in mid-air from where they were to where they went. End of story for them. They had no idea that footage of their child’s federal massage had become a Twitter sensation. So then the next question becomes, if the family didn’t have a problem with it, and they weren’t taking cupcake snaps of their off spring getting digitally manipulated by the deft fingers of justice, then why the fuck is it any one else’s business?

Reverend @JacobJester wants YOUR plane to be filled with exploding babies!
Reverend @JacobJester wants YOUR plane to be filled with exploding babies!

The TSA, whom everyone seems to have no problem beating up for trying to do what they’re tasked to do in what may largely be a system of mostly symbolic gestures but is still designed to protect people as best they can, said that while children are not excluded from security screenings, that they are reviewing ways to improve its procedures for “low-risk populations.” But Reverend Your Business is My Business told the Kansas City Star that “An 8-month-old doesn’t pose a threat to airplane or national security. I am grateful for TSA’s willingness and desire to protect, but I believe in this instance that was extreme,”

But I for one couldn’t disagree with Acting Home Land Security Chief Jester more on this point. Any parent will tell you that a small child is just one squirming bag of biological explosions, barely contained by thin layers of disposable absorbent pull ups. Most home-made explosives use bags of fertilizer, essentially “doodies”. You stuff a fuse up the pooper of one of these things, wire it up just right, you’ve got a craptastrophe on your hands. And then where will your moral authority be Reverend? Plummeting 40,000 feet in a Pampers packed ball of smelly flames! That’s where!

So I say keep feelin’ up those babies air port security personnel. I’ll not fly better knowing that the skies are being protected from the clear and present, imminent threat, of air traffic’s new public enemy number one: exploding babies!


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The Department of Homeland Security, the guys responsible for you having to mail yourself your own deoderant and the reason you have an entire hall closet dedicated to your plastic sheeting and duct tape storage, announced this week that they will begin phasing out their color coded terror alert system, and doing away with it completely by April of this year.

Safety rainbow.
Safety rainbow.

This proud, noble system, that has for so long kept us safe and sound, secure in the knowledge that we must remain ever elevated or risk some flag hating desert bastard blowing up our freedom! Because never in it’s long history did this advisory ever dip into the guarded blue or low green. If we were to perform our duty as fear abiding Americans we needed to know at all times that there was at best always the significant risk of an attack any where, at any time. Boo! Mother fucker! BOO! So simplistic in design that even the most American of us could understand it, the color coded advisory system became the very symbol of our global war on terrorism and it’s resounding success.

So, with our total and unquestioned victory over terror and the agents thereof it is time now to retire this glorious symbol of American fear. But what then will fill the fear void? Where will we look to next to know exactly how affraid we should be and what color, shape or symbol will most accurately encapsulate that ever present low level hum of fear in the back of our heads that we couldn’t possibly live without?

Well, Van Full of Candy is proud to announce that we have been contracted by the Unites States Government to devise a new replacement system of terrorfying you, the general public.

We take this contract very seriously. We thought what better way to get the word out than with daytime television and the stay at home moms, retired ladies, and the unfortunately unemployed women who watch them. With the vast amount of play dates, and the networking of moms everywhere, this was the only rational solution we could come up with based on the few hours of scientific research and blindfolded dart throwing we did at our facilities. VFoC presents the Kitchen Utensil Daytime TV Advisory System with Commercials:

Terror Threat 5: Slightly annoyed to be interrupted (Very Low Threat)

This threat will be shown to housewives who are watching the PBS hit-show “Quilt In a Day”. The threat will be verified by flashing a wire wisk in the lower right hand corner for 20 seconds and playing “Happy Days are Here Again” by Barbra Streisand.

Terror Threat 4: A bit agitated, enough to sigh out loud (Just a Regular Everyday Risk of Threat)

If a stay at home mom is at home for the afternoon enjoying Cindy Crawford’s “Meaningful Beauty” infomercial and a KitchenAid Mixer appears in the top left hand corner, then she is to understand that the everyday normal schmormal terror risk is in effect. Nothing to do, just be aware and possibly call her mother in law to inform her.

Terror Threat 3: Really starting to get irked, standing with hands on hips (Terror is starting to get serious now)

When a soccer mom gets interrupted from her show “She’s Crafty”, you know things are getting serious. A turkey baster spins in the center of the screen and Savage Garden’s “Truly Madly Deeply” begins to play at a louder volume than in Terror Threat 5.

Terror Threat 2: Full Blown Pissed Off Now (Terror is right down the street)

When unemployed haus frau’s get interrupted from their Judge Joe Brown show, you know that shit is starting to go down. Corn cob holders quickly fly across the screen, Judge Brown hides under his desk, “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gainer blasts as loudly as a commercial’s volume, and car’s alarm systems begin to blare. This is when things start to get ugly.

Terror Threat 1: Mad as hell and rolling her neck (Terrorists are calling your phone from inside the house)

Oh lawrd Jesus, mama just got severed from her Days of Our Lives show and the image of a bottle of wine appears on the screen. No music, no flashing, no nothing. All hell has broke loose and she’s fittin’ to rip somebody’s neck out. Everyone will be alerted of the terror by her screaming out the open window “OH NO THEY DIH’INT!!”  God speed terrorists, God speed!

Then, with this new threat level system in place, we decided to tackle what we thought the previous system was dangerously lacking. You see, when the inevitable does happens (and it will, don’t you forget it, oh, and Boo!) and we are powerless to stop the very fear we’ve been conditioning you to wet yourselves at the thought of, you need to be informed, and at the same time, calmed. Fear is alright when there’s really nothing to actually be afraid of, but when something scary does finally happen, you need to be soothed and distracted or in your panic you might finally realize that we have only successfully kept you on edge and afraid while having no real ability or desire to actually prevent that which we were frightening you with.

To that end, Van Full of Candy presents:

Cat-astrophe Pals!

Cuddly, adorable, easy to recognize and understand, these furry little indicators will help you instantly recognize exactly which apocalyptic event has struck our shores. Who’ll have time to worry about the billion strong, red Chinese army that’s marching through the streets of downtown when these precious little things break the news?

A long forcasted, slow moving storm has come ashore, destroying much of a beloved national treasure. Steps that could have been easily taken to avoid this tragedy were ignored and the potential for this level of devastation was scoffed at by all who could have done something. The city is now populated exclusively by the drowned and the drowning. Help may or may not arrive in approximately 12-16 business days.

Kitteh Says: I don’t doggy paddle, I KITTY paddle!


A commercial jet has been detonated in the sky over a major metropolitan city by the explosives rigged religious garment of a passenger who, while having been placed on the no fly list eight years ago was not subjected to an invasive pat down for fear of the appearance of and subsequent lawsuit for racial profiling. All of the passengers and crew have been immediately lost, with the flaming debris raining down on the city below likely to claim countless others.

Kitteh Says: It’s okay, let’s snuggle!

During a hugely attended celebration, a mid sized passenger van explodes. The vehicle is packed with highly sophisticated home made explosives, nuclear waste material and a highly virulent biological agent. Those within the immediate blast radius are killed instantly and will later be referred to as “the luckiest people ever”. Over the next several months as the radiation and virus are carried through the atmosphere the death toll will be comically astronomical with each infected man woman and child begging for death to finally take them.

Kitteh Says: We heart you!

Racial tensions have finally come to a head with the wholesale slaughter of minority children by the “Soldiers of Purity”. The natural, understandable retaliation has sent the nation into an unending spiral of race warfare that after centuries of silent seething, now has no intention of being sated by anything short of the final drop of mongrel blood. Only when the land is pure, when none but the single victor race remains, then and only then, will there be momentary peace before we immediately find something else to hate about each other.

Kitteh Says: Good thing we’re both dolphins, huh?

The skies have opened and He has return to His Earth, and the followers whom He Himself promised He would someday deliver to their final reward, simply for accepting Him as their one true Lord, rejoice. Unfortunately some of the translations from the original scripture seem to have been less than entirely accurate as the Lord of Lords commands all of those that believed to rise from their graves, unleashing his undead army on the unclean non-believers. The Lamb’s grisly legion are impossibly fast and strong, easily tearing through the living flesh of those who have turned their eye from Him. The horrors cover the globe, with the pleas of the victims only being drowned out by the mirthless cackling of those believers slowly rising into the heavens in a softly glowing beam of light.

Kitteh Says: I have not forsaken you oh Lord! I am your staff of light! The heads of the heathens shall be cleaved from their wretched bodies!

And there you have it, fear is saved, you’re welcome. We at Van Full of Candy look forward to keeping you updated on exactly what you should fear next, as soon as we can make it up. Keep watching the skies!