Saturday, September 24, 2005
In the news today was this. Click here. Oh, for fuck's sake, it's just a little tiny article about an ad campaign in Japan for McDonald's restaurants designed to be sexy. I swear, some of you people too fucking lazy to keep breathing sometimes. For those of you who actually took the time to read the article, thank you, for letting me save some time and space by not making me recap it all for you.
So there you have it, McDonald's is launching a new sexy ad campaign in Japan. I'm not entirely sure how you people think about it.
Michael, a hot chick in a dress made to look like Ronald McDonald's iconic costume is still a hot chick. She can dip my Man McNuggets any day.
It's called pornography, people, it's all over the fucking place on the internet. If you're that hard up for some sexy women, many of who don't wear even a single stitch of clothing, look that shit up. It's so depressing seeing people turning to McDonald's commercials for titillation. I mean, seriously, there's not really much that can appear in a commercial that could possibly provide that much stimulation, erotic or otherwise.
Not only that, but consider the possibility that if it comes from McDonald's it's probably swimming in grease, making you obese, and giving you heart disease. Chew on that while you try to ogle the sexy woman in the ad. If you think hard enough you might just hear her arteries clogging. How's that for sexy?
And no matter what, all this seems like some sort of response to a Burger King ad that featured Paris Hilton fellating a Whopper, or, at the very least, dry humping it. She sure as fuck wasn't eating it because I've snapped into Slim Jims with more meat than her. It's kind of like an arms race between burger superpowers. What I don't understand is why the fuck would McDonald's even break a sweat trying to one-up a commercial featuring Paris Hilton. News flash world: Paris Hilton is a media whore and nothing she does is worth batting an eye at unless it's finally to eat a damn sandwich already.
But Michael, Paris Hilton only wants to spread joy to the world through her lovable antics and free spirit.
Shut up. It's people like you who allowed this media monster to become as big as she is. And now we have every fucking greasy ass burger joint paying homage to her bullshit with ad campaigns that have nothing the fuck to do with food. If you really want to impress me, you fucking burger magnates, why not start by paying your acne scarred front line workers a bigger piece of the profits and research better food preparation techniques so that your clientele doesn't have to die young to enjoy your "food"?
It's great to see that the money is being earmarked just right with these greedy assholes.
10.) Signing one's name with an 'X'- I've come to the conclusion that there is good pretentiousness and bad pretentiousness. Signing your name with an 'X' falls into the latter category because it's been done before and probably by better people. This does not apply, however, if your name is Xavier, Xerxes, or Malcolm X.
9.) Neckbeards- See also: titbeards. I mean, seriously, it ceases to be considered facial hair if it's only sprouting out of your neck and/or man-breast.
8.) Answering machine messages that go "Hello?"- It was funny the first 3000 times this was done by clever assholes everywhere. Now it's time to move on.
7.) Wazzzzzzzzzup- Conversely, this is a fad that died altogether too quickly and I could easily listen to this another 3000 times before I might begin to think You know, maybe it's just not that funny anymore. We really need to bring this one back for an encore.
6.) Rock Star: INXS- Although it's great to see a Canadian guy winning the competition there's a part of me that gets the heebie-jeebies thinking that if Michael Hutchence wouldn't have committed suicide there would have been no justification for the competition in the first place. What's next? Renaissance Man: Leonardo, the reality t.v. show in which we, the audience, decide who gets to pick up where the late great Leonardo da Vinci left off when he kicked the bucket? You see? You can't just have a television audience pick some random fool to take the place of an artist. Once the artist is gone he/she is gone. That's it. It scares me to think that someday after ol' Michael Appleby suffocates while performing cunnilingus for 17 hours straight in a futile attempt at setting a world record some asshole is just going to take over my blog and write bottom ten lists of his own and they'll probably suck ass. Fuck. I've got to make plans to live forever.
5.) Ashlee Simpson- See also: titbeard. It ceases to be considered a singer when it's caught mid-lip-synch.
4.) Hand soap in public washrooms that is dispensed pre-lathered- I can't help but wonder about who is standing on some assembly line in a factory somewhere lathering soap up on his hands, scraping it off with a butterknife into a baggy, and then shipping it off so it can be placed in soap dispensers in public washrooms everywhere. One day somebody is going to find pubic hair in that pre-lathered soap and I'm going to seriously consider giving up the practice of washing my hands entirely.
3.) The television commercial advertising the genital herpes perfume- Okay, this one is obscure, but you can google a combination of the words genital, herpes, commercial, perfume, and bottle together to find a more in depth description of the commercial. Basically, though, some woman gets a romantic gift from her lover and it would appear to be a nice bottle of perfume until you see the label reads "Genital Herpes." First off: Worst Gift Ever! Secondly: The Genital Herpes fragrance would probably enjoy brisker sales if Britney Spears actually made an appearance in the damn commercial. Genital Herpes is one of her products, isn't it?
2.) Remakes- It seems like 67% of major box office releases these days are remakes of older movies. Only 12% of those remakes are actually tolerable. Of those 12% maybe 2 are movies that won't drive you running right up to the big screen and pissing on it out of spite. I swear, Hollywood, give me a million dollars and I'll deliver to you a memorable script about a man who finds forbidden love with conjoined kangaroos. I'll even write a part in it for that delightful scamp Andy Dick; he loves to appear in just about anything.
1.) Nascar- Yeah, okay. I get it, you guys love turning left so much you made a whole sport built around it. You never really get to appreciate just how densely populated (double entendre intended) the south really is until you watch a Nascar race on t.v.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Listening to Matt calling down after me
in the stairwell.
Matt, whom I came to visit tonight.
Matt, who bawls remarkably fast
for somebody’s who’s permanently numb.
Matt, whose apartment reeks of pot.
Matt, whose front teeth I knocked out
with the base of a lamp
shaped like Elvis.
Matt, whose loud music drowned out the screams.
Listening to Matt calling down after me
in the stairwell,
he’s almost gurgling the words:
You don’t know how to take care of a fucking woman!
You gotta keep that bitch on a leash!
You hear me?
Remember how I told you that I hadn’t seen her in weeks?
You remember that shit?
I fucking lied!
She’s come for lines two or three times
and I even gave her a free one
for leaving your psycho ass, you fuck!
And I watch the tiny droplets of blood
being sprayed out of his mouth
rain down the middle of the stairwell
most likely laced with an STD or two.
And he knows that I can hear him
from three of four flights down
from the ceasing of my footsteps.
You don’t know who you’re fucking with here!
Yeah, you fucking hurt me!
But you know what?
I’ll fucking kill you!
I’m Krakatoa, motherfucker!
I’m fucking Vesuvius
all up in here!
You don’t know who you’re fucking with!
You don’t know who you’re fucking with!
I’ll Hiroshima your fucking ass!
Be prepared, motherfucker,
Listening to Matt’s cockposturing
calling down after me
in the stairwell of his apartment building,
wondering if I should just turn around
and pay him another visit.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
If you remember a comment that I had made in a previous post you'll know that I didn't like Daron Malakian's voice very much on the latest SOAD offering Mezmerize, but I have to admit that hearing him sing live has really converted me. What I could hear last night was a nice foil to Tankian's bellowing and now when I listen to Mezmerize I'm not as put off by the screeching of Malakian. Malakian was featured prominently throughout the SOAD set, introducing many of the songs almost like a balladeer were performing classics from their catalogue and even a couple of covers in the form of Neil Young's "Hey, Hey, My, My" and Dire Straits' "Sultans Of Swing."
It was a beautiful night to be sure.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Hey guys, guess what, my blog just passed 1000 visitors yesterday!
Bless all of you who have made this experiment in my own vanity worth it.
Here's to another 1000!
Bravo, assclown, you've just made a revelation! World records are sometimes weird?!?!?! Stop the fucking presses, Michael has made a most brilliant discovery!
Somewhere in Serbia a new record has been set for the world's largest hamburger. How big is the burger, you ask? Well, the fucking thing weighs in at about 62 pounds or at about the combined weight of the Olsen twins.
It's shit like this that bugs me. The world's largest hamburger weighs 62 pounds? Why is that even considered a hamburger? Who the fuck is going to chow down on a 62 pound hamburger? Does he want fries with that clogged artery? Okay, okay, I get it, you've made a giant fucking hamburger and it's pretty much impossible to anybody to fit in an above average mouth. Even the biggest fucking mouth in the world (Joan Rivers according to The Michael Appleby Book Of World Records) couldn't get that down and since it's Joan Rivers she'd probably self-induce vomitting shortly thereafter. The point is, though, shouldn't a hamburger technically be considered something that one person could eat in one sitting, possibly two if he takes part of it home in a doggy bag or shit like that? Anything more than that transcends the hamburger status and becomes...well, I don't know what the fuck it becomes, but it's too fucking big to be a hamburger.
If that can be considered a hamburger I'm just going to slap two sesame seed buns on either side of a fucking cow and call that shit a hamburger, extra rare. There's your world record, bitches, hundreds of fucking pounds depending on how big the cow is.
See? See how fucking obscure and pointless some of these records get? Why the fuck would anybody need to know this?
And the especially sad part is that there are people who get paid way more money than I do to sit around and measure all these world record hamburger attempts and put it down in some fucking book for a year before somebody goes Oh fuck, I can just dump three jersey cows into a giant woodchipper, make a patty out of that shit and voila, my name's in the fucking book. Then the whole process of me getting pissed off about this kind of stuff making the news starts again as the world record people go to some obscure town to verify the existence of a three jersey hamburger and to weigh it all out. And since nobody can eat it because it's too fucking big they'll probably just toss it out in the garbage after a few weeks after it attracts flies by the thousands. And if you listen closely you might just hear the stomachs of, literally, millions of people who can't get a fucking quarter pounder with cheese in their countries.
But at least we have that world record hamburger to ponder for another year.
Monday, September 19, 2005
For those of who yet again prove to be too lazy to click the links I provide I'll sum it up a little. Basically, a Winnipeg man is currently perfecting a peripheral that would attach to a car's engine and, through a series of chemical reactions, provide a supply of hydrogen and oxygen to the engine's combustion chamber, greatly improving fuel mileage and making for a much cleaner, environmentally speaking, burn. In fact, the numbers that the man tosses around in the article are so impressive, at least to me, that it almost seems too good to be true. Reading stuff like this makes me very excited and optimistic for the road ahead for humanity.
But then there's the cynical side of me that speaks up. Is better fuel mileage really what the big oil companies of the world want? I mean, could it be that if we could squeeze more and more miles out of a tank of gas that the oil companies would lose money based on the fact that our repeated trips to the gas pumps as it is are keeping them swimming in the moolah?
That's what sucks. We are on the verge of a technological breakthrough and, in all likelihood, the people who profit most from our willingness as a whole to allow ourselves to remain in the dark ages are also the people with enough power to see that technological breakthrough not reach the gas-pumping simps. Are we to have faith in the morality of these millionaires and billionaires? Are they more likely to see to it that we buy more gas more of the time or do what they can to help the environment and pocketbooks of the mass of consumers?
Maybe this is just another sign of how our system fails us.
Remember what it was like when you were a kid and trying to think of what the world would be like in the year 2000? I used to imagine flying cars and people living on the moon. Was I out of touch with reality on that one? You bet your ass I was.
But now I think that it was probably technologically feasible for us to be at that point. We could have had flying cars and cities on the moon. It just wasn't in the best interests of the corporate scum who profit the most from the way that things are.
That's what you get for thinking with your bank accounts.