Saturday, May 28, 2011

I discriminate

Against this type:

My disdain for this type is only succeeded by my enjoyment of using cheap puns. 2 in 2 days.

I need a doctor

Friday, May 27, 2011

A slimmer you

Anyone else get this image watching infomercials? No?

Yes, it's a pun. Accept it and deal with it.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

The Commonwealth Games: The Thank Fuck America Isn't Here Games

America has it all. They have the beautiful women, they have the money, they have the succulent steaks, they have the athletes and they sure as fuck have the roids to turn the shitty ones into suped-up, gold churning machines. They have everything and they know it. There is just one thing America does not know about, and I'm exceptionally sorry I have to break this news.

The rest of the world has an Olympics without you.

I know what you're thinking, "WHAT THE FUCK? You're playing SPORTS without US? Get my rifle son, the one I don't have a license for. Or perhaps the handgun I keep under my pillow for them ter-rists. Get your mothers' too. These fuckers aren't getting away with this."

Please, put your rifles away, and let me explain for a second. They're called the Commonwealth Games. A lot of the world outside of America is part of the Commonwealth, we pose no threat. In fact, some of us are even on your side!

You don't understand how shitty you make us all feel, America. You win EVERYTHING. Our best, most talented athletes are brought to depressing, humiliating, suicidal shame when they go up against your roid machines. We need these games, America. We need them for our own self worth.

Imagine this for a second. You're now Canadian.


Canada are nice, but Mr Nice Guy never wins, right, America? You want that oil, you fucking go get it, soldier. Canada got 3 gold medals in Beijing. The 2010 Commonwealth Games have been going for four days. They have 19 golds and 53 total. Canada are no Gary Coleman around these parts. Canada are fucking Sylvester Stallone with machine guns for hands and sandpaper for fingernails.

 The Official Commonwealth Games World Map

This may be bold of me, but I'm assuming everyone reading this has been to high school. If you haven't, I'll assume you're in the process of leaving (good luck with the oil!). Now, think about high school. Imagine, for one second, that every jerk at that school was removed. Imagine if everyone who beat you at something was removed from that school. Imagine that every single test you took was a breeze. Imagine that everyone who was remotely world class at anything was removed.


Welcome to the greatest show on earth. The show where everyone fucking SUCKS at everything, no one watches, and we become the greatest fucking athletes this side of California.

It's widely known that New Zealand turns up to the Olympics for the after party. The snacks are delicious and way too good to pass up, no one would dispute that fact. Medal tally? They award medals here?

The Commonwealth Games is where we really fucking turn it on. We fucking bring the pain to powerhouse nations such as the Cayman Islands and the Isle of Man. We are unstoppable, medal thirsty beasts and bathe in our medal tally as if God himself created our athletes and brought them to this earth to beat Praveen, the malnourished, 5' 1" Indian girl at the shot put.

 A quick snapshot of the junior Olympics to put things in perspective.

Just to give you an idea of how nice these games are, Usain Bolt, the fastest man on the fucking PLANET, doesn't turn up to the Commonwealth Games. He's over the speed limit. If you're good at something, you're not allowed here. Everyone deserves a shot at winning something. If there was a special Olympics for people who weren't... special... then these are them. If there was a Paralympics for people who weren't fucking paralyzed, these are them. These games bring the rest of the world together in a way that we don't have to worry about being subpar. We don't have to worry about America taking our lunch money, shoving our face down a toilet and fucking our sister and mother at the same time.

We love you America, and we get it. You're good at stuff. Stuff that actually matters, such as running really fast and jumping really high. But the rest of the world needs these games. They make us feel complete. They make us feel like we are gods among men when really the whole thing is an excuse to celebrate our inferiority. We like medals too, OK?!

Thank you for putting the rifle down.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

The new sins

Many of you may not know this, but I am God's best friend. When he was going through his hip hop phase, we collaborated on a few tracks. We reached #36 on the Cuban airplay charts with the single My Son's one Cool Mofo in the Summer of '92, and we stayed in touch ever since. While our relationship is very much a very very long distance one, we chat regularly.

He recently opened up and told me about a few mistakes he made. He broke down in a pool of tears. I started to tell him there was always going to be someone looking down on him blah blah and all that shit but I remembered he's God. He asked me to fix one of the biggest mistakes he made, which are known as the seven sins. Apparently he was filling out an online dating form and listed them as his best traits, and his secretary filed them in the wrong place or something. He was pretty embarrassed about the whole thing, and saw me as the perfect person (I am) to right those wrongs. In a Stripped Paint Exclusive, I present you the new Cardinal Sins.


If you're not masturbating, I'm assuming you have some horrible birth defect, such as no arms. There is absolutely no downside to jerking or stroking (ladies.....). You're killing about 9 different species of flightless birds with 1 gigantic semen stone by masturbating. You gain pleasure, stamina, strength, and, depending on your state of life, an overall sense of loser-ness. And, for the extreme amongst us, you may feel suicidal after masturbating to BME for the 20th time. You get the full spectrum of life and emotions just from a swift hand motion. If you're not doing this, prepare to rot in hell for eternity.


Granted, not all of this planet are not as dumb as a sack of Mexicans (fun fact: Total IQ = 37), but the ones that are truly dumb fall for dumb ass shit all the fucking time. If a guy claims he can heal you by hitting you in the face, IT'S NOT FUCKING TRUE.

While Peter Popoff is a jerk for the most part, you have to say bravo for tapping into the dumbass market and making bank for screaming and hitting people. Dumbass Exploitation Hall of Fame anyone? I understand he's bankrupt now, but the inside word is he just did the whole thing just to prove a point.

If a girl starts to walk like a lunatic and barely talks better than Terry Schiavo after a regular flu shot, but shows no emotion whatsoever, and is on multiple news networks (AKA attention whoring, publicity), do you REALLY THINK IT'S REAL? Stop falling for this bullshit you idiots. Watch the first one, decide if you're a dumbass or not, then watch the second. The second shouldn't even be news considering how fucking bullshit, batshit, dogshit, shitshitshit, this whole event is. Fuck you, I'm pissed now.


Not only are you both fucking dumbasses, you're now sinners as well.

Glorious human beings.


Nose whistlers are those people that whistle through their nose when they're supposedly breathing. I don't believe they're actually breathing, because breathing doesn't sound like a fucking turbo jet landing on the tarmac. Time stands still when you're in the presence of a nose whistler. You can't concentrate on anything but the blood curdling scream coming from their nose, it's grotesque. A good way to get rich would be to walk into a bank with a posse of 6 or 7 nose whistlers, and take all the money you can find. No one would notice the robbery for all the nose whistling. The devastation nose whistling could potentially cause leaves me with the one option left, converting it to sin status.


Every single one of these is now a sin. These are also tapping into the dumbass market. When I was a young lad, the 1am television comprised purely of minimum wage girls writhing around on a stage made out of styrofoam, plastered with graphics made in Word 97, trying to sell phone sex. To a 13 year old boy, this is hard core porn. We need to go back to those glory days. The dumbass market has made it possible for infomercials to infiltrate this time slot with ease. Dumbasses buy anything that manages to occupy a 30 minute time slot. Guess who listens to people talking about a blender for 30 minutes? Dumbasses. Let me give you a rundown on how an infomercial works to hook a dumbass in.

1. Ask questions that can only be answered with yes.

"Do you want clean carpets?"
"Do you want your kids to get a good eduction?"
"Do you find it essential to eat food?"
"Does every blender seem the same to you?" (hint: they are)

2. Action shot of item in middle-upper class home with small audience ready to participate in the eating of the food.

Because we all love to sit and watch people fucking blend. During this time, the host needs to show an enormous amount of emotion when he finds out the blender can do more than one thing.

3. Display a ridiculously confusing phone number and talk about easy payments.

After you've decided that you want this amazing blender, they give you the number to call to bring one into your life. "Just call 1-800 BLENDER 4 U, that's 1-800 24854." Wait, what? There's more letters in the letter version than the number version? How does that work?

Once you figure out that crossword, you're ready to make your 4 easy payments. They obviously wouldn't trouble you with some hard payments. Because I really hate when I have to jump through hoops to pay for cutlery. Very annoying.

4. Repeat. For the entire night until the Christians invade.

They too use this structure, once again to hook in dumbasses.


If this was an attractive smell, Lynx would have it in a can by now. If you smell like an old person, you're sinning. You're sinning like no one has ever sinned before. Incidentally, not telling someone they smell like an old person is just as sin worthy. We can make this world a better place by getting rid of that horrid death ridden smell.


Self explanatory. Consider killing yourself.

Apologies for the inconvenience in the changing of the sins, but I think all the new ones cover all bases necessary for a healthy living environment physically and mentally. No need to thank me, the knowledge that I'm making the world a better place is enough reward for me.

Shit, guess I need a 7th sin. Hmmm, lame blogs. That will do. No more lame blogs.

God damn it :(

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Fine dining is not fine with me

Fine dining is the hipster of the food world. You know those artsy kids who wear tight black jeans and some ironic t-shirt with a faded scarf and a $100 haircut that looks exactly the same as a free one? Those guys that begin a music conversation with "you probably haven't heard of this band..." or "I knew about them before they sold out. They are so lame now." It is EXACTLY the same with bullshit fine dining meals.

I can see it's food, and it's on a plate. I can see it's meant to be eaten. The thing is, it's trying so fucking hard to look different that I just want to punch it right in the Cajun cashew blended drizzled nuts. When I want a meal I want a fucking MEAL. Not something the size of my thumbnail and the price of Michael Jackson's glove.

Don't get me wrong, some of these meals look pretty nice. Do they look tasty? No. Do they look like they could be frozen solid and sold as key chains in the restaurant gift shop? Yes. This review gives you the cold hard truth on these hipster junkie meals.

Nice, a stick, a rock, some grass and some shaving foam, this meal looks incredible. Totally worth the 50 bucks. I sincerely hope that this is being served to an African orphan who has been living off dirt for 3 months, because really, dirt is the only thing that I think is worse than that handful of things you put on that plate.

You know you're fine dining when the fish is the same size as the fucking fork. This reminds me of writing essays in high school, where you always put in extra words and made the font bigger just to make it look like you had put more effort in. In this case, the extra words are the broccoli and whatever the fuck that yellow thing is. Only 40 bucks? What a steal!

"Hey, I know, lets blast the fucking plate with dressing so people don't realize that we only put 3 things the size of cherries on their plate!"
"Hey, they might notice. Put a couple of leaves on top to be sure."
I don't even think a cat would be satisfied with the amount of food on this plate.

Really? Honestly? Man, you better get me a massive glass of water to wash this bad boy down. This is garbage and technically fraud. I ordered 'food' not 'something wrapped in a leaf with grass scattered around it'.

This has to be a mistake. Surely this is a drink that has been accidentally served on a plate. Surely. I really doubt if that could even fill up a glass. The golden rule of fine dining: no matter what the size of the meal, make sure the plate is FUCKING ASTRONOMICALLY, ALMOST COMICALLY, HUGE.

The hell? Covering half my plate with icing sugar doesn't make that tart bigger you asshole. The sad thing is, this is the entire dessert if you're fine dining. The good thing is this probably only sets you back 45 bucks. Even if you licked all of that icing sugar off, I'm pretty sure the entire value of that meal (including the plate) is about 9 dollars. By the way, nice leaf on top. Very necessary.

What the fuck? Did you just choose the 3 closest things to you and put a skewer through them? This is awful and not worthy of traveling through my digestive tract.

People, if you haven't already, I hope you realize that fine dining is bullshit. The food to plate ratio is always about 1:50000, you go broke just buying it, and the ingredients are seemingly things found in a guy named Phil's backyard. From now on, make sure you understand that anything that resembles the above is shit, and stay away from it. Fine dining is NOT those things, fine dining is this: