local man ain't no fancy, big-city queer. he simply demands 16 ounces of juicy sausage in his mouth.

as i was playing around on the google thing there, i discovered just how perfect a fit this new segment is for me. lo and behold, i discovered one of the funniest bits of audio i've heard in a long time, and one that so perfectly fits with the surviving darwinism theme.

it may be old news to you, but please do enjoy this hillbilly filing a complaint with jimmy dean:

and in case you're wondering, i believe he did in fact say, "your products of very delicious".

new segment inspired by bleak outlook of human intelligence. inability to blow up 80 year old building quells fear of nuclear holocaust.

so there were a couple of things i wanted to post about today, and perhaps i still will, but when i saw this video, i was inspired to create another feature.

i shall call this feature surviving darwinism.

now, many media sources have segments along the lines of "signs of the apocalypse", or what have you. but as much as i would love to witness the apocalypse, i don't believe in all that biblical mumbo jumbo. what i do believe in is this: i don't care if you believe in religion, or darwinism, we are too stupid to fail. the apocalypse isn't ever coming, no matter how hard we try. our best bet is that we will eventually extinct ourselves. but somehow, against all odds, we don't die. our population continues to grow, and flourish, and live longer.

i guess you could say this segment is somewhere between a darwin award, and signs of the apocalypse. so without further ado, the first sign that humans will never go away, no matter how unfit for survival we are, is a BBC news segment titled turkey demolition goes wrong (unfortunately i had to link it, since those wankers down at the BBC won't share video with blogger). when i first read that title, i thought, "if there is a god in heaven, this will be a bunch of turkeys getting blown up".

it's not, but it still cracked me up.

enjoy.

p.s. - for exploding turkeys, just google "exploding turkeys" it's out there, and plenty of it.

the incredible mr O doesn't care what you think (until we actually tell him what we think. like that one time, when we all thought he would be a good president), and i like that about the guy.

sometimes it takes a person with the pelotas to implement an unpopular or controversial idea to grease the wheels of progress.

he's not about to kowtow to a bunch of rubes who pick apart every little thing he says and place it under an electron microscope. i mean, how ballsy was it for him to promise to bring us the one axiom of existence that we cannot anyway avoid?

i'm talking about change people.

and who among us can say with 100% certainty that we have never, nor would ever, declare one of our athletic deficiencies worthy of the special olympics?

my concern is not that mr O is uncomfortable being himself when it comes to public relations.

my concern is that mr O is not uncomfortable being himself when it comes to public relations.

look, the guy's under serious scrutiny, here. he can't afford to let gaffin' joe rub off on him now. sure, it's funny when you or i say, "hey, i bowl like a retard". but there's an awful lot of people out there, who are going to blow this out of proportion when the president says it.

so some moron cop arrests a guy for being black in his own house, and suddenly we have to have a beer bash at the moon tower? this doesn't seem like the smartest move.

first of all, it sets a dangerous precedent. now every time somebody has a problem with the way their lives are going, they are going to expect the president to respond to the issue, and he has much more important things to do than help you find your car keys. hey, simpletons, just because you were late to work because road maintenance backed up traffic on the interstate, don't expect mr O to hold a press conference reprimanding the DOT for not staying the fuck out of your way. and i don't care if the safeway didn't have any decent bananas, i don't want to hear that obama called an emergency produce summit between the FDA, NAFTA, and the farm workers of america. there's real problems going on in the world, and i'm not saying race relations in america isn't one of them, but treating two pouting idiots like bickering toddlers, and forcing them to kiss and make up is not going to solve the problem, in fact, it might cause more problems than it even addresses. meanwhile, people are starving, dying, fighting, and suffering for real, all over the world, and bono can't hug all of them himself. mr O has more pressing items on his agenda than putting a band-aid on your ouchie.

to stay on the subject of dangerous precedents, my second concern is that this will fan the flames of america's arrested development. we are already a nation of pathetic midlife crises. we are such an immature, self important group of a-holes to begin with, that i don' think we need the president offering to play daddy to our mundane disputes. hey, i think it's a great idea to resolve issues by sitting down like sensible people, and discussing them in a friendly manner, but this is something grown ass people should already know how to do. i don't care who the president is, he or she is not here to teach us how to shake hands and apologize. we're adults now, and it's time for us to take responsibility for our own lives. don't go crying to mommy every time life isn't going your way, when the way to resolve the problem is obviously just to be a big boy and figure it the fuck out yourself, or, here's a thought, get over it. shit happens. we're not going to get an apology from the universe every time something goes wrong, and we don't need reparations for every little thing.

my third and final concern is this: they say you never talk about religion or politics at a party. well, for a guy who has already proven that he can't get away with insinuating that he is a retarded bowler, or using any form of the modifier "stupid", or showing any sort of respect to the leaders of other countries without the whole country jumping down his throat, maybe it's not the best idea to invite the media to film you getting drunk and talking about race relations...

...and for the love of god, don't invite biden to the party.

it's not brainCandy, but it's totally brain candy. just when you thought the world had lost its religious bearing...

...satan speaks to a woman (in texas, no less), and tells her to cut off her baby's head and eat his brain. now that's what i'm talkin' about! of course, i think this woman is lying...

...i think god told her to do it. think about it. this story is positively abrahamic. we have received the next prophet! could this be the much anticipated 11th commandment?

thou shalt devour the delectable, juicy insides of thy firstborn's noggin?

you know, one of my favorite stories of all time is the one out of germany, where a man met a sexual partner online who openly agreed to be killed. the german man flew his potential partner/victim to germany, where they loaded up on cough medicine and other such things, the victim to a lethal level. once toasted, they engaged in sadomasochistic homosexual sex, until the victim lost consciousness, at which point the german man "finished himself off" (if you know what i mean) while his partner was either unconscious or already dead. post orgasm, as some people do, the german man got a hankering for a light snack. so he mutilated and ate the corpse. the german courts found that no charges could be pressed regarding the heinousness of the crime, as the victim had contractually agreed to everything that took place, including the eating.

this is such a fantastically twisted story, but where's the jesus fire in all this? the fact that the victim agreed to be eaten after death just goes to show that he does not believe in the after life, otherwise he might care a bit more about how his body was disposed of. and the german man finding his partner/victim online? if he were truly a pious man, he would have let god, not craigslist, choose his victim. and with no death row sentence handed down, how can this man be martyred? furthermore, homosexual sex? god would certainly not discredit his earthly voice, by requesting that he engage in any fruity backdoor stuff.

no no, this whole story smacks of godless blasphemers. besides, who is germany to get the next prophet? everyone knows america is the chosen land for the new christian world order. we get the next prophet. we called it! no fair!

meanwhile, back at crawford ranch (ok, not really in crawford, but back in texas, anyway), otty (yes otty) sanchez claims she felt the temptation of the dark lord (the one who's not voldemort) guiding her on wednesday. guiding her to chew off her 3 1/2 week old son's toes, then cut off his head, and eat his brain, after which satan apparently told her to stab herself in the heart and stomach.

ok, let's back up the popemobile here. this is why this woman must have heard god, and not the devil, speaking to her. first, i can't imagine it is that hard to kill a regular baby. unchecked, the chewing off of the baby's toes, alone, may have caused fatal bleeding. while those little piggies were going wee wee wee all the way to sanchez's lower intestine, that baby would have been going wee wee wee all the way to that ranch upstate. and we've all heard the stories of the messiah. that jesus fella wasn't so hard to kill. he died willingly, of standard mortal injuries.

so unless this baby was a zombie, why cut off his head? ahh, but there in lies the twist. sanchez ate the baby's brain, not the other way around. so perhaps it was sanchez, herself, who was the zombie. we all know zombies have an unquenchable blood lust for brains, sweet delicious braaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiins! and though sanchez proved, quite zombily, that she could not be killed by stab wounds to the heart or stomach, by stabbing herself when her sister made her presence in the house known, otty did not pursue her sister's tender, protein-rich brain. if she were truly a zombie, her hunger for brains surely would have driven her to lumber forward stiffly, arms in the air, take three rhythmic steps to the right, quickly turn left, then right, then left again, clap her hands over her head, shimmy her shoulders, thrust her hips, and then, ultimately lunge for her sister's head. yes, i think it's safe to say, if sanchez was a zombie, this story would have had a much more impressive dance number.

certainly neither sanchez nor the baby was a vampire, or the injuries the baby suffered wold have involved either bite marks, stake wounds to the heart, or holy water burns. so of course god told her to do it, because obviously this baby was the devil (he wasn't old enough to be on solid foods yet, but were he given the chance, it's almost certain his head would have spun around and he would have projectile vomited pureed peas all over leslie nielsen, and we won't even discuss what might have happened at his senior prom), and the only way to kill him was to cut off his head. although, i have seen enough movies to know that the truly evil must have their hearts removed, quartered, and buried at the four corners of the globe in ancient aztec urns. barring that, you are destined to be kidnapped by the coven of witches who live in the apartment next door, at which point sanchez would have slipped into a sorcery induced coma, waking up decades later to discover she has been written into a poorly executed sequel, which serves as a political allegory for the 2000 election.

and speaking of the damned trapped in an endless cycle of hell, forced to relive their mistakes over and over again. i'll be goddamned if i'm going to let some demon baby force us all to relive the last 9 years.

so i put it to you, good readers, was this woman possessed by god, or satan? or perhaps she was attempting to kill her zombie baby, and just got a little crazy there (i'll show you who eats the brains in this house, mister!),

of course there is always the possibility (read: reality) that miss otty sanchez was simply a drugged out schizophrenic who was raised on too much TV and jesus fire.

nah, that's just silly.

bokodes best thing to happen to lazy morons since color change coors light can. boy, great things happen to lazy morons more often than i thought.

forgive me if i sound a little andy in my rooney, today, but i have to question the actual importance of the invention of bokodes.

for those who haven't heard, bokodes are a proposed replacement for traditional barcodes, that consist of a tiny LED, covered with a mask, and a lens, that can be jam packed with all sorts of information, then stamped onto damn near anything. the bokode can then be read by any camera, including cameraphones, to unlock that treasure trove of knowledge.

what kind of applications do the inventors of the bokode envision? the most widespread use would of course be consumer products of any kind. anything that already has a barcode could be fitted with a bokode, and what's more, the bokode could house scores more information than a traditional barcode. information such as price, nutrition facts, a link to the company's website, satanic verses, the dead sea scrolls, or even a step by step guide on how squirrel rectums and processed corn sugar come together to make your hotdogs so delicious, could be included in the bokode. but wait, there's more! bokodes send out different information depending on what angle the picture is taken at, so while you're having a little photo shoot with the coco puffs, "your cookoo, your absolutely cookoo, baby! show me tasty! oh yeah, the camera loves you!" the generic caca poops (oh, kindergarten jokes, will you never get old?) to the left, can shoot over a message saying, "hey, look over here, the big ziplock bag with the cracked out dodo bird on it. i'm cheaper!" and the wheat chex to your right can sit there quietly, because they already know, if you're too goddamn lazy to reach out and pick up the 12 oz box 2 feet in front of your fat face, and read the fucking nutrition facts off the side, then glance one inch down and see how much they cost, you ain't eatin' nothin' that doesn't have a cracked out animal on the box and an easy to swallow decoder ring inside.

even better for the lazy consumer is this: while the standard barcode costs only a fraction of a fraction of a cent (the cost of the necessary black ink) to print on a product, the bokode can be available for the low, low price of $5 a piece. sweet! so now i have to stand in the cereal aisle, snapping pictures of every single box i might be interested in buying so i can find out how much they cost, and what the nutritional content is, and it will only double the price of the product? when can we make this happen?!

god forbid we all snap out of our comatose consumer stupor, and realize that socialized medicine means we save a couple hundred bucks a month on insurance bills, even though we have to pay a couple more bucks a month in taxes, yet apparently it's red team fuckin' go on adding a $5 computer chip to the rice krispies, because enough americans have become so disgustingly lazy, stupid, and machine dependent that they can't pick up the box to read the words on the side, let alone compare and contrast numerical values to figure out which wacky cartoon animal has the cheaper food thingies inside?

me hungry! me need put food in face! how much this cost?! what these markings on side box? no can understand. magic phone, make food no be mean to me! make food go in face!

another use of the bokode is quick information about buildings that are around you. just slap a bokode on the facade of the building and you can grind your car to a screeching halt in the middle of the street to take a photo of it, then hold up traffic while your phone unzips the information, and you process it the only way you know how: from a glowing rectangle.

"hey, ma, what's that there muck dunn alds? stop the dang car, let me take a pitcher phone of it. oh hey ma! look like they got them some burgers and whatnots up in that there muckdunnalds. and look at this here crazy clown they got a dancin' around on their dubbya dubbya site! ain't he funny to beat all? let's stop ma, let's stop and get us some burgers and such! i sure am hongry, on accounta i ain't ate nothin' since that poppies chicken we had fiteen minutes ago."

i'm not even going to dignify the other uses of the bokode with my ridicule (as they all serve similar functions), because my point is that it's pretty obvious to me that if this is the kind of sorry, pathetic shape we are in as a species, we need all the help and healthcare we can get. but i guess we're all happier wasting our money on new and improved ways to waste our money. besides, most americans won't be able to read this anyway, since it's got all kinds of fancy words in it (ironically, most americans can probably recognize the word "fancy", thanks to mcDonald's fancy "ketchup").

in summary, me no like bokode. bokode make not smart. me donate $5 bokode price to socialized medicine. MIT shove moron chip up caca poops hole.

and you know i'm right, because you read it on a glowing rectangle.