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Lowered Social Standards: Thy Name is UFC

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Have you ever been publicly praised by your boss and heralded as “one of the classiest people on Earth!”, for choosing not to continue to savagely pummel an unconscious rival until being forcibly removed from their carcass by authorities? UFC fighter Brian Stann has, and that seems like a bad thing to me.

Now, I enjoy fighting to the ultimate as much as the next reptile brained hair covered mammal. If there is an individual with whom I have an otherwise readily resolvable difference, my first, natural and only instinct is ALWAYS to elbow it until the problem is easily wiped off of my arm joint. I also want to make sure that any ultimately fighting men that might happen to read this know that I don’t have any problem with the entirely rational and completely thought through decisions you make to continue raining uncontested blows upon the face of your opponent until you are tackled off of them. That’s your call and I think it is a completely right and handsome call of you to make, so please, ask your friends “Lefty” and “Widow Maker” to unclench and enjoy the rest of this article with the warm understanding that everything you punch had it coming and I completely support your punching it until you see fit to be forced to halt your hard wired programming of “skull liquefaction”.

I’m familiar with the ultimate fight, I’ve watched several in my day. Highlight DVDs are made entirely of muscular gentlemen wailing away at the craniums of the forcibly sleeping. It’s just a little weird, to me at least, to heap so much praise upon someone doing something that should really be the rule, rather than the exception.

In his fight with Alessio Sakara, Mr. Stann completely overwhelmed his opponent in the first round, putting him to painful bed with a series of elbows. It was after this that Brian did something that initially, most spectators couldn’t wholly understand. Without any out side provocation from the official who should have been leaping across the octagon at him, Brian Stann simply stopped demolishing Alessio Sakara’s brain pan.

"Guys! I'm done punching! Seriously!"
"Guys! I'm done punching! Seriously!"

This unexpected act of humanity by fighting man Brian Stann, one of the apparent universally regarded “good guys” of the sport of hitting other people with every blunt edge of your anatomy, prompted UFC President Dana White to announce to the Twitter machine how classy a gesture not taking liberties with the defenseless husk of Alessio Sakara was.

Now, obviously I’m not suggesting that UFC needs to be toned down, it’s infinitely more controlled than it was in its infancy, I’m just saying that it shouldn’t be such a shocking show of sportsmanship for a guy to wave a lazy, neglectful referee over to show him that he should have done his job already, that the sport itself feels like it should give this guy a trophy for having even a shred of human decency.

“He’s such a good guy, you almost want to hate him.” wrote “MMA Fighting”s Ben Fowlkes, I assume while breaking kittens legs and ensuring that they healed incorrectly. “Except, he’s also the kind of good guy who will stop a fight when he sees his opponent has been knocked out.”

That shouldn’t be a thing. What he just said. There shouldn’t be a place where it should be astonishing if someone stops fighting someone who no longer possesses the ability to fight back. Rule number one in every sport played by anyone every where should be “If your opponent has the motor function of a soggy dish rag and is unresponsive to any form of visual or aural stimuli, please stop punching them until they can be officially declared dead.”

So, good fight Mr. Stann, congratulations on being a rational individual, capable of remorse and able to recognize when your fists have transitioned from sporting equipment to state’s evidence. Now might I suggest you sit down with Dana White for a dish of delicious frozen yogurt and explain to him why being so excited about one of his employees choosing of his own accord to be a human being shouldn’t be so god damned tweet worthy.

Van Full of Candy’s Guide to Van Full of Candy

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We like the internet, and judging by the fact that you’re reading this, we can safely assume that you do too. We also know that if you’re anything like us, you’re looking every day for new ways to waste your hours at work pretending to be spread sheeting or otherwise giving a fuck about what you’re being paid to give fucks about. But for us, fucking about is part of the gig. We have to make sure our pretty little faces are out there so that your pretty little faces can be entertained and eventually, we won’t have to pretend to spread sheet.

But there’s a lot of internet out there. From what I hear, it’s kind of like a web, that is very nearly world wide. So if we want to be seen in all of this big crazy land of cat videos and pornography, we have to be in lots of places. We need to be seen. We need love and confirmation of our value as persons in the form of likes or +’s or thumbs up, votes up, funny votes, re-tweets; anything that lets us know that we are in fact alive and being heard. That our long hours, hand crafting finely milled funny is not all in vain. We need you to tell ten friends, and we need those ten friends to tell ten friends and so on. And then we need all of you to send us a dollar… Or just click “like”.

So you probably know of a couple places to find us, you have somehow already, but you probably don’t know ALL of the random cracks and crevices of the internet in which we’re squirreled away, poking things with our comedy sticks to see if fan bees swarm out and sting us with their approval… No, yes, that is what I meant…

So with all of that in mind, Van Full of Candy is proud to present your guide to Van Full of Candy on the Internets!

WordPress: This is where the magic happens… Such as it is… Every weekday (excluding some holidays) we post a new something or other to WordPress which makes its way to you, the loyal reader by some other means… You could really just subscribe to the WordPress site and never have to go to any of our other crap and you’d be just fine… We wish you wouldn’t. We also wish I hadn’t just called everything that’s going to follow “crap”, but as you all know, my delete key does not work, so there’s nothing I can do to change what is…

facebook: This would be the other place of import to us. Why? Because this is where the rest of the planet goes, and we want the rest of the planet to like us. Here you can find virtual farms to tend, or virtual towns to build, pretty much anything that real people used to do in this country is represented in a virtual game form on the Book of Faces. Like interacting with other people, or having a life. All represented virtually in the one place that everyone on the planet goes to complain about what this magical meeting place has fucked up this time by changing where that one button you never used in the first place is now…

Twitter: We tweet, we’re tweeters, we twit about twat, you know, like all the other cool revolutionaries. Except we don’t really overthrow dictators or organize protests or anything, and frankly we’re tired of being made to feel like fuck ups by those that do, because we don’t. I could totally overthrow an oppressive regime if I wanted to, but I’d just rather replace words in movie titles with “Butt” or “Fart”… That’s changing the world, in a way…

YouTube: This is where you get to see and hear our “funny”. Through the magic of motion pictures, captured on digitized still images, played in quick succession in a way to fool the eye into seeing a moving image, in combination with audio capture technology which steals our voices from the air and traps it inside your computer box you are able to see into a world, long dead, as though it were happening before your very eyes. And kitties falling down makes my giggle and hug myself!

Funny or Die: Then we take those magical demon images and upload them to be judged by the public. A public, unable to create, but infinitely qualified to critique. Who’s only contribution to art and entertainment is in the tearing down of artists and entertainers! Dismissive of the time and effort put into the very thing that they are dismissing entirely out of hand! … Of Die…

Current: A couple of years ago Al Gore was everywhere. So much so, that we needed an entire television channel to contain it. And so Current TV was born. We usually share our more angry political pieces on the current community site, because that’s what they like, and we like what people like as long as what they like is us… LOVE US!

foursquare: The internet has given us an outlet to make sure the entire universe knows every time we get gas or a burrito or gas and a burrito. It is foursquare. And we want to be stalked as much, if not more than the next guy…

Comedy Whirled: Sort of what I imagine Funny or Die might have been like if it hadn’t been founded as Will Ferrell and Adam McKay’s club house. Not that that’s a bad thing at all, because those guys might some day pay me to write funny things for them. So what I meant to say is, Funny or Die is awesome and I want them to give me money and exposure. Sorry Comedy Whirled, just be cool, I fucked up, you guys are awesome but you can’t destroy me yet… Kisses Billy and AMcK!

Linked In: Created, in theory, to be a place where professionals can come together and professional… ize. I don’t think it took long for the creators of Linked In to realize that’s kind of boring, but no one’s had the time to change anything about it yet because they’re too busy farming their virtual radishes. You have a linked in account because someone you worked with at one point or another let their address book be raped and added you and that was the last time both of you checked it.

klout: We all want to feel like big shots. We all want to think we matter. Us especially. This site gives you some seemingly random, mostly unattributable number representation between 1 and 100 of how much “klout” you have. No, it doesn’t make sense to us either, but we have one of these too!

Empire Avenue: A sort of social media stock market… game… thing. Because there’s nothing more fun than the stock market. But sadly, quite addicting. Another way of showing you that the time you’re wasting on all of the other sites above is actually, really, pretend paying off and increasing your value in some way. You’re not wasting your life tweeting about how Justin Bieber should come to your junior high school and play a show on the soccer field, you are strengthening your portfolio!

Google+: In case you haven’t noticed, Google is swallowing the world. And unsatisfied with simply owning everything that Apple doesn’t, they’ve decided to try to kick Zuckerburg in the pant fronts too while they’re at it. Google+ (or “The Plus” as no one has yet called it since I just coined that phrase) is supposedly the next big thing in the social medias. We don’t see it. But we’ll be damned if we’re not going to be there too just in case. Besides, Google knows everything I’m doing at all times at this point; it’s best to not fuck with someone like that.

MySpace: LOVE US JUSTIN! For the love of god, all we want is for you to notice us! We only have this stupid account so you can see us and we can hang out and maybe smell your fingers a couple times a night! WE WENT TO MYSPACE FOR YOU! MYSPACE!!!

Van Full of Candy's Guide to Van Full of Candy

Posted on

We like the internet, and judging by the fact that you’re reading this, we can safely assume that you do too. We also know that if you’re anything like us, you’re looking every day for new ways to waste your hours at work pretending to be spread sheeting or otherwise giving a fuck about what you’re being paid to give fucks about. But for us, fucking about is part of the gig. We have to make sure our pretty little faces are out there so that your pretty little faces can be entertained and eventually, we won’t have to pretend to spread sheet.

But there’s a lot of internet out there. From what I hear, it’s kind of like a web, that is very nearly world wide. So if we want to be seen in all of this big crazy land of cat videos and pornography, we have to be in lots of places. We need to be seen. We need love and confirmation of our value as persons in the form of likes or +’s or thumbs up, votes up, funny votes, re-tweets; anything that lets us know that we are in fact alive and being heard. That our long hours, hand crafting finely milled funny is not all in vain. We need you to tell ten friends, and we need those ten friends to tell ten friends and so on. And then we need all of you to send us a dollar… Or just click “like”.

So you probably know of a couple places to find us, you have somehow already, but you probably don’t know ALL of the random cracks and crevices of the internet in which we’re squirreled away, poking things with our comedy sticks to see if fan bees swarm out and sting us with their approval… No, yes, that is what I meant…

So with all of that in mind, Van Full of Candy is proud to present your guide to Van Full of Candy on the Internets!

WordPress: This is where the magic happens… Such as it is… Every weekday (excluding some holidays) we post a new something or other to WordPress which makes its way to you, the loyal reader by some other means… You could really just subscribe to the WordPress site and never have to go to any of our other crap and you’d be just fine… We wish you wouldn’t. We also wish I hadn’t just called everything that’s going to follow “crap”, but as you all know, my delete key does not work, so there’s nothing I can do to change what is…

facebook: This would be the other place of import to us. Why? Because this is where the rest of the planet goes, and we want the rest of the planet to like us. Here you can find virtual farms to tend, or virtual towns to build, pretty much anything that real people used to do in this country is represented in a virtual game form on the Book of Faces. Like interacting with other people, or having a life. All represented virtually in the one place that everyone on the planet goes to complain about what this magical meeting place has fucked up this time by changing where that one button you never used in the first place is now…

Twitter: We tweet, we’re tweeters, we twit about twat, you know, like all the other cool revolutionaries. Except we don’t really overthrow dictators or organize protests or anything, and frankly we’re tired of being made to feel like fuck ups by those that do, because we don’t. I could totally overthrow an oppressive regime if I wanted to, but I’d just rather replace words in movie titles with “Butt” or “Fart”… That’s changing the world, in a way…

YouTube: This is where you get to see and hear our “funny”. Through the magic of motion pictures, captured on digitized still images, played in quick succession in a way to fool the eye into seeing a moving image, in combination with audio capture technology which steals our voices from the air and traps it inside your computer box you are able to see into a world, long dead, as though it were happening before your very eyes. And kitties falling down makes my giggle and hug myself!

Funny or Die: Then we take those magical demon images and upload them to be judged by the public. A public, unable to create, but infinitely qualified to critique. Who’s only contribution to art and entertainment is in the tearing down of artists and entertainers! Dismissive of the time and effort put into the very thing that they are dismissing entirely out of hand! … Of Die…

Current: A couple of years ago Al Gore was everywhere. So much so, that we needed an entire television channel to contain it. And so Current TV was born. We usually share our more angry political pieces on the current community site, because that’s what they like, and we like what people like as long as what they like is us… LOVE US!

foursquare: The internet has given us an outlet to make sure the entire universe knows every time we get gas or a burrito or gas and a burrito. It is foursquare. And we want to be stalked as much, if not more than the next guy…

Comedy Whirled: Sort of what I imagine Funny or Die might have been like if it hadn’t been founded as Will Ferrell and Adam McKay’s club house. Not that that’s a bad thing at all, because those guys might some day pay me to write funny things for them. So what I meant to say is, Funny or Die is awesome and I want them to give me money and exposure. Sorry Comedy Whirled, just be cool, I fucked up, you guys are awesome but you can’t destroy me yet… Kisses Billy and AMcK!

Linked In: Created, in theory, to be a place where professionals can come together and professional… ize. I don’t think it took long for the creators of Linked In to realize that’s kind of boring, but no one’s had the time to change anything about it yet because they’re too busy farming their virtual radishes. You have a linked in account because someone you worked with at one point or another let their address book be raped and added you and that was the last time both of you checked it.

klout: We all want to feel like big shots. We all want to think we matter. Us especially. This site gives you some seemingly random, mostly unattributable number representation between 1 and 100 of how much “klout” you have. No, it doesn’t make sense to us either, but we have one of these too!

Empire Avenue: A sort of social media stock market… game… thing. Because there’s nothing more fun than the stock market. But sadly, quite addicting. Another way of showing you that the time you’re wasting on all of the other sites above is actually, really, pretend paying off and increasing your value in some way. You’re not wasting your life tweeting about how Justin Bieber should come to your junior high school and play a show on the soccer field, you are strengthening your portfolio!

Google+: In case you haven’t noticed, Google is swallowing the world. And unsatisfied with simply owning everything that Apple doesn’t, they’ve decided to try to kick Zuckerburg in the pant fronts too while they’re at it. Google+ (or “The Plus” as no one has yet called it since I just coined that phrase) is supposedly the next big thing in the social medias. We don’t see it. But we’ll be damned if we’re not going to be there too just in case. Besides, Google knows everything I’m doing at all times at this point; it’s best to not fuck with someone like that.

MySpace: LOVE US JUSTIN! For the love of god, all we want is for you to notice us! We only have this stupid account so you can see us and we can hang out and maybe smell your fingers a couple times a night! WE WENT TO MYSPACE FOR YOU! MYSPACE!!!

2 Second Hef ?? Ouch !!

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Good ol’ Heff, still pullin’ 25 year old strange at 85 years old. Hats off to ya old boy. But a little bit of the ugly truth was leaked recently by aforementioned strange. Crystal Harris, Hugh’s latest name added to his novel length list of ass-tap, called him out on Howard Stern saying that his lasting power in the sack “lasted like two seconds”. Well Christ almighty, that’s not really that bad considering the parties involved: She’s a hot 25 year old tart with Playboy body, he’s a raisin. I guess I’m shocked that he can get it up at all, so for him to even get to that point and THEN last two seconds, that’s bonus Crystal, quit hate’n !!
Yep, I would've lasted about 2 seconds as well

Hugh Marston Heffner retaliated to his ex-fiance’s accusations by posting the following Twitter things …

I don’t which one confuses me more … the fact that Hugh Hefner can get his hands on ripeness like that or that he actually uses Twitter. I mean let’s think about it … here’s a list of the things that were around when HH was born in 1926.

Walt Disney Studios forms
Air Mail begins in the US
1st transatlantic telephone call (London-NY)
Mussolini’s wife breaks his nose
30th Boston Marathon – Now at 115th
52nd Kentucky Derby – Now at 137th
Thomas Edison says Americans prefer silent movies over talkies
Houdini stays in a coffin under water for 1½ hrs before escaping
Weather map televised for 1st time
Jerry Lewis, Don Rickles and Soupy Sales born
Henry Ford announces 8 hour, 5-day work week
Babe Ruth hits 3 HRs in a World Series game
NBC (National Broadcasting Corporation) forms
U.S. Route 66 is established
2nd part of Hitler’s Mein Kampf published

Hey Crystal, how about givin' Daddy a little of that Boom-Boom

So for you, Crystal the bitch, to bag on Hugh’s fornication stopwatch, well all I have to say is F YOU with a capital F !! That dude was around when Babe Ruth was still hitting homeruns, like he was doin’ with you … for 2 seconds at a time !! BAMMM !!

Yeah! Rub Your Pie All Up In My Face, Mmmmm !!

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During a session of love-seat-lounging yesterday, something dawned on me as I watched the “news” on my thin-black-box-of-tummy-plumping’ness. I realized that a good ol’ “pie in the face” has never lost its charm, AND, the most important realization, was that getting “pied” is the ultimate form of putdownery that you really can inflict on thine enemies.

How dare you sir, trying to taste my pie, well I never !!

Lets take a quick look at the history of the “Pie In The Face”. It all started in 1909 in a silent movie called “Mr. Flip”. It is the first known instance of “pieing” as it is sometimes referred to, and is considered “slap stick” comedy. The pie is pushed into the main character’s face after he tries to take liberties with a woman, an voila, “Pie In The Face” is born. There are two known “pieing” techniques, the old fashion push the pie in the face, and the “throw the pie” in the face, both of which are quite acceptable. There has also been a new breed of pie that has been born as well from professional baseball players, and it’s the “shaving cream pie”, which in my mind is just bastardizing the event, but, if you don’t have time to bake, then I guess it will do since it does somewhat resemble a lemon-meringue pie.

Now lets fast forward 102 years to Rupert Murdoch’s court hearing for his phone-hacking scandal. Just yesterday on this two-thousandst-and-evelenth-year of our lawrd CNN, the “Pie In The Face” got national attention when a guy who says he’s a comedian/activist who goes by the Twitter handle @JonnieMarbles decided to “pie” Mr. Murdoch in the face at said hearing. However, his plan did not go as, ummm, planned. As he stepped toward the intended victim, his “pieing” was intercepted by this old man’s younger, hot, Asian wife and the majority of pie was smeared on the “pie’er” as she slapped him silly. In the slap-stick comedy world, we like to call this “awww shit, you just got reverse pied”. Now earlier I mentioned that a “pieing” is the ultimate form of getting “cut down”, but I have to change my view and say that if you get “reverse-pied-in-the-face”, then THAT would be the worst, and you’re just a punk ass bitch now.

So in honor of the age old “Pie In The Face”, I push one in yours and smear it around on top of your head, and yes, that IS custard you’re tasting. And here’s a couple of famous people getting “Pie’d In The Face” … enjoy !!

Wow! What A Wiener, Weiner!

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I think the family photos in the background are a nice touch

New York Congressman, Anthony Weiner, decided he was going to show his pee-pee to some ladies on the interwebs. Apparently he thought women could keep their mouths shut, and I mean that in the most loving way possible, seriously. Let’s just take a quick look at this shit, shall we Weiner?

#1. You are a U.S. Representative, New York Congressman, and your wife is an aide to Hilary Clinton. Did you think you weren’t just a smidge high profile?

#2. You sent pics of your beautifully shorn chest and your boxer-brief’s bulge via Twitter and Facebook to about 6 different women? Why in the hell would you use your real Twitter account name you FOOL?!? It’s @RepWeiner for those of you who’d like to try and hook up with him. Everybody knows that you have a REAL account and a “I wanna show my schlong” account. Stupid, stupid man!

That pickle doesn't look too kosher.

#3. As soon as you pressed “Send” you must have known that some shit was gonna go down, right? There must have been a slight moment of hesitation where you said “I know I shouldn’t do this, but this girl isn’t gonna throw me under the bus, we’re tight.” I mean seriously. Did you not think that in this day and age with how fast information flies across the world, that any one of these girls wouldn’t try to make some serious money off your stupidity? Did you not think that any one of them would possibly want to get on a Good Morning news program, want to write a book, get on Oprah’s new network and talk, talk, talk about your groin?

I hope my allergies pass as being really upset.

Look bro, I’m not mad at ya, I just feel sorry for you since you got caught. But when you don’t think things through, that’s what happens, and now you’re gonna get a slap on the hand, you’ll need to make a Tiger Woods apology-interview,  and then just stay under the radar for a few days because the bigger, better, shavier chested news story is quickly coming around the corner, and your “5 minutes of fame” is going to fade away into the media abyss, and we’ll all go back to commuting to work, eating our turkey sandwiches and having no clue who you are.

Sarah Palin: Professional Grifter

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It used to be that a huckster would rumble into town in a brightly colored wagon emblazoned with grandiose hyperbole about their stature and abilities. And the townsfolk, how they would flock to this charismatic charlatan, selling them something they thought they wanted, taking their “donations” for the promise of a better life and happier tomorrow. Then they would leave quietly in the night and the next morning the people would wake up, wonder who that wild eyed caricature was, why they were there, and why they got so excited about it.

It’s nice to see that some things never change.

Round and round! What comes around goes around! I'll tell you why!
Round and round! What comes around goes around! I'll tell you why!

Internet personality and reality television subject Sarah Palin is currently cris-crossing the country, a trail of “reporters”, whom she supposedly openly despises, clinging to her ass, unsure why they’re following her, but knowing if they don’t someone else will and people will watch them instead. No express purpose has been given for this continental wander, other than to see the great history spots of this fine country place. If this were a simple sight seeing trip with the family, exploring the many wonders that this land has to offer, it wouldn’t require a tour bus with the subtlety of the bass player for Ratt fucking a groupie with a can of hairspray on a pile of tour shirts. What we do know is that she’s not running for office, she’s not promoting a movie, she’s not really contributing anything to anything in any way measurable. What she does seem to be doing though, is taking an expensive independent study 6th grade Social Studies class with all of the money that people give her because… I don’t know why.

Sarah Palin isn’t going to run for President. Why would she want to? Being President would mean responsibility and accountability and a significant pay cut. So instead she’s going to explore the possibilities, and search the belly fires, listen to what her imaginary sky monster tells her to do, and hem and haw and maybe and could be and if you’re really Americany I just might, you know, for you. Because as soon as she says she’s running, she can’t spend her donation money on family vacations, so where’s the up side? Being the leader of the free world? Who needs the headache? 

Anyone's listening to you because...?
Anyone's listening to you because...?

The truth is that she doesn’t want to be President. Who the fuck would anymore? Hell, she didn’t want to be Governor of Alaska, where your only real responsibility is not freezing to death or accidentally eating one or more of your children to survive. What Sarah Palin wants is to be famous. She wants to be rich. She wants to have no responsibility, and be able to, almost expected to, reflexively, instinctively criticize and insinuate and insult, all while deflecting, offering no actual solutions or ideas of any kind and attacking anyone who would ever call her on any of her shit. It’s easier to prey on the fears of middle America and talk about what’s perceived to be wrong, than to say how to fix it and make actual things actually happen, actually.

So instead of offering anything of substance she shills bottles of Auntie Sarah’s Americana Super Tonic Elixir! Good for all what ails ya! For all the REAL Americans. The hockey grizzly moms! The helicopter borne shooters of things! The lockers, the reloaders! Because God put that oil in the ground for America so we should go get it!

Tired of radical muslim extremist socialist Presidents pallin’ around with terrorists? Just get yourself a bottle of good ol’ Auntie Sarah’s Americana Super Tonic Elixir! Tired of the lame stream media covering your every move just like you want them to so long as they don’t try to ask you about your opinions or twist your words by playing them back exactly as you said them?

With Auntie Sarah’s Americana Super Tonic Elixir you’ll finally be able to see exactly what’s wrong with America without the hassle of actually offering any ways to solve them, while simultaneously being able to attack anyone who ever questions the inherent greatness and superiority of this most perfect of nations given by lord Jesus McAwesome to the world as a beacon of light and freedom! These, the single 50 greatest United States of the Americas!

So step right up, no pushin’ folks, there’s no risk of missin’ this show! Be amazed, be astounded, be disgusted and revolted by the Arctic Media Monster! The Sad, Inconceivable, Shameless Thing That Won’t Go Away! The Incredible, Astonishing, Spectacular Neverdent of the United States of Real America! Sarah Palin: Professional Grifter!

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!

Crisis in the Holy Land: Biebs vs. Heebs

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As regular readers know, we at Van Full of Candy have a love, hate, stab, caress relationship with a certain young pop super star whose name shall be mentioned many dozen times throughout this article. Whether it’s his disappointment in and hatred of rape victims, or his world shaking follicle styling decisions, we have been there every step of the way over the last three plus months of our official existence. Bieber gives us life, his floppy headed stupidity nourishes us, it feeds our machine so that we might feast upon him again.

And so, hearing the news that the Bieb was taking his healing message to the planet’s most picked at open sore, I couldn’t help but be intrigued at the potentially horrible possibilities. And as usual, when it comes to matters of tact and sense, JBiZzle doesn’t disappoint.

"Stop taking pictures of me! I just want my privacy, gosh!"
"Stop taking pictures of me! I just want my privacy, gosh!"

Justin apparently touched down in the promised land on Monday as part of his “My World” tour. The arrogance and ignorance makes me stronger! I can’t help but giggle at the gall of this little oblivious twat prancing through Perpetualwarslavia with his smoldering hot Canadianess and his utter lack of personal awareness as he takes a walk about across the face of His World. It truly makes me want to punch him in the face with the fist of a million holocaust ghosts. If only Justin had been around a little sooner, perhaps with the power of his disarming wink he could have shown that mean ol’ Adolph that his pursuits were pointless, this is Bieber’s world, and his alone.

A day doesn’t go by that we’re not reminded that America is a Christian Nation and as such, Jesus grew up in Bethlehem, Colorado, so I’m not sure where this beaver pelt wearing, igloo humping Canadian gets off trying to get all uppity that he’s being pestered by paparazzi while trying to visit our God’s explodey birthplace.

We of course know about every tiny perceived hardships that the Bieb is experiencing because of his personal telepathic link to the internets, Twitter. Through his twitter account he has shared his twelve trials, whining about the paparazzi that “They should be ashamed of themselves. Take pictures of me eating but not in a place of prayer, ridiculous ” and “You would think paparazzi would have some respect in holy places. All I wanted was the chance to walk where Jesus did here in Israel,” And Justin is absolutely right! Finally something I can agree with him completely on. Why can’t the paparazzi show the same level of respect for these holy places that Justin is tweeting that he has… from these holy places. Just because he’s walking in the footsteps of the Christ, doesn’t mean he has to put down his smart phone long enough to actually look around and be respectful of what and where it is that he is bitching about not being respected at. And of course there is no more divine expression of one’s respect and reverence than in the form of a 140 character kvetch. Twitter is the ultimate tool in circumventing damnation from the sin of Hubris, because while you are vainly boasting about your importance and value, you’re only doing it in bite sized portions, so clearly it doesn’t count.

Then you toss on top of all of this there’s the political theatre of snubbing and finger pointing. Justin, rightfully expected an audience with Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu, because he clearly has nothing better to do than to shake hands with a seventeen year old pop star with a delusional sense of self worth. Netanyahu wanted to bring in some kids that earlier in the week had been shot at by rockets and as we all know Justin is allergic to human tragedy and it all became a big kerfuffle and now everyone’s blaming everyone else for a pointless meeting between two people who have no business ever meeting in the first place never happening at all. And we’re all the lesser for it. Somehow.

Now, I know that Justin isn’t doing anything out of malice or with any sort of forethought. He’s a self absorbed child with more money than any of us will ever see if we lived to be three million, and no one telling him no. He’s being no more disrespectful and oblivious than any North American child his age would be. The only difference is that his inane bullshit is being heard by millions of followers. But naturally, we can’t stay mad at you Justin, you’re just too adorable and precocious. So here is a little something we whipped together in your honour (the extra “u” is for extra Canadian), celebrating our undying love of all things Bieber, combined with my unbridled insanity.

So I invite you all to enjoy the first installment of a potentially limitless part series. Van Full of Candy proudly presents: Bieber Shots!

Bieber Shots #1: Click to enjoy.
Bieber Shots #1: Click to enjoy.

Happy Birthday Twitter, You Bedwetter

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We didn’t get you a present

Hey everyone, want to hear something that nobody cares about? Twitter just turned 5 years old. Big F’ing deal, so did my dog and he still scrapes his ass on the floor. Five! You can’t even really color within the lines yet Twitter, or eat without spillin’ shit all over your shirt, or even wipe your ass by yourself yet. Whoopeee!! Twitter is 5!! Let’s all have a big social media party with a creepy ass clown so Twitter will run to mommy and cry.

Five! You go around acting all badass making other people feel important when they have a shitload of followers, big whippity doo! YOU’RE ONLY 5! You don’t even know what all that means yet. This is kind of like your really poorly done refrigerator art, and your parents are telling you how amazing it is patting you on your sweaty little Twitter head and magnet’ing it where everybody HAS to look at it! Five! You still wear Pull-Ups to bed and have a nightlight, but we’re all supposed to bow down to your uberness, your power, your Charlie Sheen record setting whatever that media handjob thing was; and what is it you really do? ANSWER THAT TWITTER! WHAT DO YOU DO? You sit there and you make people “popular” and feel special. Well you know what? The people who were already popular, are just more popular and those of us who were never popular, still aren’t. Thanks for that! And how the hell am I supposed to use you? And how did you like my overuse of the word “popular”? Oh you wouldn’t understand that because you’re FIVE!

Hey, let me “tweet” something. Yay! Well that was fun! Where in the hell did THAT go? Who got it? WTF?? And this hashtag bullshit? It’s like tic-tac-toe before a word and all of a sudden it’s that much more important? And if freakin’ Sheen puts one in front of anything it becomes the God damn word of … well … God. And now I’ve mentioned his name twice in this damn article even though he deliberately cut me from his internship. I’m not bitter, I already talked to him about it here. Five! You can’t even sit in the front seat yet, but you’re telling us who we need to follow and how amazing they are and even set up a NEW website that pimps out the chosen people even more, well fuck, why don’t you make a shitty website and pimp us nobody’s out? Huh? No! I guess we’ll just have to work our asses off and do all of that shit ourselves. GREAT! When do WE get to be cool? Never! That’s when! You just sit back there in your car-seat with your sippy-cup and act like a Prima Donna. FIVE! You still take naps, and suck your thumb and let all these people praise you, well not us! No sir! We will never promote you AT ALL! EVER! We won’t hyperlink anything back to you to show how much everybody needs you. FIVE! And you know what? Just for being the little runny nose prick that you are, I’m not gonna pick you up from daycare today!

FIVE THAT TWITTER!!

Please don't follow us @VanFullOfCandy, we hate Twitter