Mars

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

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

GOOGLES!

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

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

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

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

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

Dun dun DUN!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hear me out…

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

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

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

Our future shift supervisor Lee Chin. He can fly, so, we kinda have to do what he says...
Our future shift supervisor Lee Chin. He can fly, so, we kinda have to do what he says...
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Cut It Out China! You're Freaking Us Out!

Posted on

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

GOOGLES!

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

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

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

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

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

Dun dun DUN!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hear me out…

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

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

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

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

A Critical Examination of the Bruno Mars Song “Grenade”

Posted on

Pop music was first invented when a trio of our early, ape like ancestor, while trying to impress the least hideous of the tribe’s women, all simultaneously, and quite by accident, sat on their balls, produced a strangely melodic high pitched howl. In those early days the genre was very hard on it’s pioneering performers, but the reward was all of the cave gash you could eat. As pop music evolved it was discovered that genital trauma was not an essential component of the process, thus opening the flood gates for anyone who could howl and whine as if they had just mangled their testicles.

But with this new influx of weaker, less hardened performers came whiney puss pop. Rather than singing about how they would sex up their next conquest with their still marginally functional bags of reproductive organ mush, these new pop stars, with their almost entirely unbruised gonads, had the sack to whine about being dumped, and as a byproduct, inventing the pity fuck.

This is the source of the ringing in your ears.
This is the source of the ringing in your ears.

Which brings us to today’s most infectious assault on our senses from the world of whine pop. Now, just to put this in some sort of context, I don’t listen to the radio and on average I sleep 19 hours a day, yet I still somehow manage to hear the Bruno Mars song “Grenade” no less than 400 times in any given late afternoon. I can’t always ignore it, try as I might, and it was in one of these forced listenings that I first began to examine the lyrical content of this latest ear virus. So I thought I would take an opportunity to delve fully into just how violently insane this “song” is.

To give these lyrics the proper context I think it’s best to imagine receiving them in one long series of increasingly erratic text messages. And it’s with that in mind that I delve into the sadness of Bruno Mars’ “Grenade”:

Easy come, Easy go,
that’s just how you live
oh, take take take it all,
but you never give.

From here I think it’s immediately safe to say that Mr. Mars was the dumpie. It’s a tough position to be in. With it comes a lot of self doubt and questions. It can make you kind of crazy, lashing out blindly and often stupidly, trying to find reasons when really it’s as simple as, “you’re kind of a lunatic.”

Should’ve know you was trouble,
from the first kiss, had your eyes wide open,
why were they open?

Gave you what I had and you tossed it in the trash,
you tossed in the trash you did,
to give me all your love is all I ever asked, ‘cos,

I think an equally valid question for Mr. Mars is “why were YOUR eyes open?” Already this is a sign of mistrust and paranoia. These seem to be symptoms of a history of bad relationships, which you are now bringing into this new one, thus dooming it to failure from the very beginning.

What you don’t understand is
I’d catch a grenade for ya
Throw my hand on a blade for ya
I’d jump in front of a train for ya
You know I’d do anything for ya.

I’ve found, in my admittedly limited experience with relationships, that screaming about the numerous ways in which you would mutilate yourself to prove your love, often doesn’t have the desired positive reaction that you would assume it naturally would. Honestly, what woman wouldn’t swoon when being shouted at that you would be exploded, lacerated or pulverized simply to show them how much you enjoyed their company?

Oh, oh, I would go through all this pain,
take a bullet straight through my brain,
yes I would die for you baby,
but you won’t do the same.

No, no, no, no.

If you had read this in someone’s mistakenly open e-mail, you would either laugh your ass off, or you would immediately call the police. This looks like someone backed out of a suicide pact and you should naturally be afraid for the life of the person that thought better of trading artillery to prove just how very much in love they were because it’s pretty clear that Bruno will finish this job.

Black black, black and blue,
beat me ’till I’m numb,
tell the devil I said hey when you get back to where you’re from,
Mad woman, bad woman, that’s just what you are,
yeah, you’ll smile in my face,
then rip the brakes out my car.

 This is all at best speculative, and at worst prosecutable slander. And really, do you think you’re that important Mr. Mars that satan himself has sent a demon to break your little heart? A little perspective Bruno.

Gave you what I had and you tossed it in the trash,
you tossed it in the trash yes you did.
to give me all your love is all I ever asked,
cos, What you don’t understand is

I’d catch a grenade for ya
Throw my hand on a blade for ya
I’d jump in front of a train for ya
You know I’d do anything for ya.

Oh, oh, I would go through all this pain,
take a bullet straight through my brain,
yes I would die for you baby,
but you won’t do the same.

The lunacy of the lyrics aside, I’m left to wonder in what situation would it be necessary to catch a grenade for someone, with the intention of proving your love for them or otherwise. Grenades, as far as I understand, are very difficult to come by in America, even in the inner city. Perhaps this lost love of Mr. Mars’ was a summer fling in some war torn middle eastern country, where the metaphor of catching a grenade for a loved one would ring a little more plausible.

And in what context at all would throwing your hand on a blade be an acceptable way to show one’s devotion for someone else? That’s called “cutting”, and it’s predominantly practiced by attention starved teenage girls, which I guess, now that I think about it, goes a long way to explaining Bruno’s affinity for the imagery.

If my body was on fire,
ooh, you’d watch me burn down in flames,
You said you loved me, you’re the liar,
‘cos you never, ever, ever did baby.

It’s so sad, that even now, in his final verse, his unwavering, stalker love will not be denied. Even while calling this poor, lucky to have gotten out alive ex of his a liar and stopping short of accusing her of being an arsonist, and instead only labeling her a pyromaniac, still, even then he calls her “baby”. She’s not comin’ back Bruno, you’ve gotta let her go. And since by this point you’ve lost both of your hands to concussive explosives and poorly executed knife blocking, letting go shouldn’t be a big problem for you.

But darling, I’ll still
catch a grenade for you
Throw my hand on a blade for you
I’d jump in front of a train for you
You know I’d do anything for you.

Oh, oh, I would go through all this pain,
take a bullet straight through my brain,
yes I would die for you baby,
but you won’t do the same.

No you won’t do the same,
You wouldn’t do the same,
ooh, you never do the same,
no, no, no, no.

I’m oh so sorry, Bruno Mars,
your fates weren’t written in the stars.

You would not catch not one grenade,
not that the act would get you laid.

Not with a knife or on a train,
not with a bullet through your brain.

She hasn’t tampered with your cars,
she thinks you’re crazy, Bruno Mars.

A Critical Examination of the Bruno Mars Song "Grenade"

Posted on

Pop music was first invented when a trio of our early, ape like ancestor, while trying to impress the least hideous of the tribe’s women, all simultaneously, and quite by accident, sat on their balls, produced a strangely melodic high pitched howl. In those early days the genre was very hard on it’s pioneering performers, but the reward was all of the cave gash you could eat. As pop music evolved it was discovered that genital trauma was not an essential component of the process, thus opening the flood gates for anyone who could howl and whine as if they had just mangled their testicles.

But with this new influx of weaker, less hardened performers came whiney puss pop. Rather than singing about how they would sex up their next conquest with their still marginally functional bags of reproductive organ mush, these new pop stars, with their almost entirely unbruised gonads, had the sack to whine about being dumped, and as a byproduct, inventing the pity fuck.

This is the source of the ringing in your ears.
This is the source of the ringing in your ears.

Which brings us to today’s most infectious assault on our senses from the world of whine pop. Now, just to put this in some sort of context, I don’t listen to the radio and on average I sleep 19 hours a day, yet I still somehow manage to hear the Bruno Mars song “Grenade” no less than 400 times in any given late afternoon. I can’t always ignore it, try as I might, and it was in one of these forced listenings that I first began to examine the lyrical content of this latest ear virus. So I thought I would take an opportunity to delve fully into just how violently insane this “song” is.

To give these lyrics the proper context I think it’s best to imagine receiving them in one long series of increasingly erratic text messages. And it’s with that in mind that I delve into the sadness of Bruno Mars’ “Grenade”:

Easy come, Easy go,
that’s just how you live
oh, take take take it all,
but you never give.

From here I think it’s immediately safe to say that Mr. Mars was the dumpie. It’s a tough position to be in. With it comes a lot of self doubt and questions. It can make you kind of crazy, lashing out blindly and often stupidly, trying to find reasons when really it’s as simple as, “you’re kind of a lunatic.”

Should’ve know you was trouble,
from the first kiss, had your eyes wide open,
why were they open?

Gave you what I had and you tossed it in the trash,
you tossed in the trash you did,
to give me all your love is all I ever asked, ‘cos,

I think an equally valid question for Mr. Mars is “why were YOUR eyes open?” Already this is a sign of mistrust and paranoia. These seem to be symptoms of a history of bad relationships, which you are now bringing into this new one, thus dooming it to failure from the very beginning.

What you don’t understand is
I’d catch a grenade for ya
Throw my hand on a blade for ya
I’d jump in front of a train for ya
You know I’d do anything for ya.

I’ve found, in my admittedly limited experience with relationships, that screaming about the numerous ways in which you would mutilate yourself to prove your love, often doesn’t have the desired positive reaction that you would assume it naturally would. Honestly, what woman wouldn’t swoon when being shouted at that you would be exploded, lacerated or pulverized simply to show them how much you enjoyed their company?

Oh, oh, I would go through all this pain,
take a bullet straight through my brain,
yes I would die for you baby,
but you won’t do the same.

No, no, no, no.

If you had read this in someone’s mistakenly open e-mail, you would either laugh your ass off, or you would immediately call the police. This looks like someone backed out of a suicide pact and you should naturally be afraid for the life of the person that thought better of trading artillery to prove just how very much in love they were because it’s pretty clear that Bruno will finish this job.

Black black, black and blue,
beat me ’till I’m numb,
tell the devil I said hey when you get back to where you’re from,
Mad woman, bad woman, that’s just what you are,
yeah, you’ll smile in my face,
then rip the brakes out my car.

This is all at best speculative, and at worst prosecutable slander. And really, do you think you’re that important Mr. Mars that satan himself has sent a demon to break your little heart? A little perspective Bruno.

Gave you what I had and you tossed it in the trash,
you tossed it in the trash yes you did.
to give me all your love is all I ever asked,
cos, What you don’t understand is

I’d catch a grenade for ya
Throw my hand on a blade for ya
I’d jump in front of a train for ya
You know I’d do anything for ya.

Oh, oh, I would go through all this pain,
take a bullet straight through my brain,
yes I would die for you baby,
but you won’t do the same.

The lunacy of the lyrics aside, I’m left to wonder in what situation would it be necessary to catch a grenade for someone, with the intention of proving your love for them or otherwise. Grenades, as far as I understand, are very difficult to come by in America, even in the inner city. Perhaps this lost love of Mr. Mars’ was a summer fling in some war torn middle eastern country, where the metaphor of catching a grenade for a loved one would ring a little more plausible.

And in what context at all would throwing your hand on a blade be an acceptable way to show one’s devotion for someone else? That’s called “cutting”, and it’s predominantly practiced by attention starved teenage girls, which I guess, now that I think about it, goes a long way to explaining Bruno’s affinity for the imagery.

If my body was on fire,
ooh, you’d watch me burn down in flames,
You said you loved me, you’re the liar,
‘cos you never, ever, ever did baby.

It’s so sad, that even now, in his final verse, his unwavering, stalker love will not be denied. Even while calling this poor, lucky to have gotten out alive ex of his a liar and stopping short of accusing her of being an arsonist, and instead only labeling her a pyromaniac, still, even then he calls her “baby”. She’s not comin’ back Bruno, you’ve gotta let her go. And since by this point you’ve lost both of your hands to concussive explosives and poorly executed knife blocking, letting go shouldn’t be a big problem for you.

But darling, I’ll still
catch a grenade for you
Throw my hand on a blade for you
I’d jump in front of a train for you
You know I’d do anything for you.

Oh, oh, I would go through all this pain,
take a bullet straight through my brain,
yes I would die for you baby,
but you won’t do the same.

No you won’t do the same,
You wouldn’t do the same,
ooh, you never do the same,
no, no, no, no.

I’m oh so sorry, Bruno Mars,
your fates weren’t written in the stars.

You would not catch not one grenade,
not that the act would get you laid.

Not with a knife or on a train,
not with a bullet through your brain.

She hasn’t tampered with your cars,
she thinks you’re crazy, Bruno Mars.