Part 1 in my 5,000 part series, “The Dangers of Rock and Roll.” I have six hours of footage from this thing. Here’s the first part, which displays all the dangers of Rock music.
Hey, how’s it going there, ace? Why don’t you go ahead and come in, and close the door behind you. Just have a seat. Go ahead and park that sweet little ass of yours right here next to me. Have you been eating less? Because I don’t mind saying you look REALLY reasonable today in that outfit.
Now, Cindy is telling me you’ve been coming to this website for a while, and you’ve yet to watch our Mandatory Corporate Compliance Video. I’m going to go ahead and insist that you do that now. It’s a short video, and then you can get back to your lunch. Though I would recommend not finishing your lunch, if you want to continue to look the way you do now and, as a result, continue working here. How’s that sound, kiddo? Great, Great…
Shown: Don’t Annoy People With the Deadly Laser. Also, please don’t pester Airport Security with a gun, and don’t goof around with a flamethrower at the Nursing Home.
So, let’s see what it can do to a very, very oily rag in a very dry garage.
Hmm. So I guess lasers are still mostly good for popping balloons, melting duct tape and aiming at airplanes not aiming at airplanes under any circumstance as to not annoy the pilot cause the plane to crash, and serve a felony sentence in prison. That’s money well spent. Or should I say that’s money, well, spent.
So, yeah…it’s cool, but…I was hoping for something more along these lines:
Every night I spend alone in my wood-paneled basement leads me to the same conclusion: I wish I could play a VCR Mystery Game with self-decapitating robots. Apparently, the purpose of this game is to save the Earth from robots, which kind of goes against Issac Assimov’s Three Laws of Robotics. But a game where you’re just ordering robots around wouldn’t be too fun, I guess. So instead, the game involves a robot ripping it’s own head off and coldly relaying that “you’ve made a mistake” before it, I assume, uses your intestines as a leash for its Robot Dog. Good, clean, terrifying fun for all. “Wanna come over? I’ve got this game where Robot Paul Reiser tears off its own head to prove a point. It’s for up to 4 players? No? Ok, maybe some other time! Just text me if you change your mind! I have no friends LOL.”
Let’s watch the commercial, as I imagine it in my mind. Thanks to Gary Hodges for passing this tape along!
“Within 5 minutes, you’ll be on one of 256 possible courses to save the galaxy.” It’s like the Butterfly Effect, if the fabric of time were limited to 80 minutes of SLP video!
This is an Amway propaganda tape I picked up about the dangers of common, every day tap water. She’s just watching out for her children’s interests, at the end of the day. Good for her.
Ok, I’m kind of phoning into today’s entry. It’s funny cat videos. But since you’ve already seen the other awful things I’ve trained my cat to do, or made them watch me do, here’s the requisite origin story.
My wife’s Valentine gift to me was that she was secretly training our cat to ring a bell. I don’t think I can ever top this. Here’s how that went down. Or, rather, here’s how it all came up. On my kitchen floor.
So all this Cricket attention has made Champion, our first born cat, jealous. He’s acting out. He can’t ring a bell. He can’t do shit. And he’s trying way too hard to earn our love back.
“Hey guys, I’m an elephant! You seein’ this?”
“Hey guys, LOOK! I’m a rooster! The Cock of the Walk!”
“Hey! HEY! Over here! I’m Young David Bowie!”
“SEE? SEE!?? YOU CAN PILE SHIT ON ME TOO! LIKE THIS!
PLEASE GOD ANYTHING JUST PAY ATTENTION TO ME AGAIN.”
Sigh. It’s just so sad to watch all this play out. So who wants a free, non-bell ringing cat? We’re getting rid of him.
Kidding! Kidding. But seriously. He better be shooting bottle rockets out of his ass in a year’s time or it’s back to the streets.
You all know DJ Daymage. Not only does he make amazing mixes and provide soundtracks to bachelorette party videos, but he comes through on some pretty amazing birthday gifts. A few years back, he gave me this priceless item:
But, still, I had so many questions. This little guy was willing to hold whose bag, exactly? My bag? Gareb Shamus’ bag? The long-awaited answer came this year, with yet another piece to add to my collection of tragically misspelled art, including the famed Finger Pupies. Behold:
Shown: The unfortunately named “Male Bag.”
My cat, Champion, wants no part of this. Even without his balls, he knows the difference between “mail” and “male.”
But my other cat, Cricket, is another story altogether. Cricket looovves to play with my Male Bag. She gets a treat every time she plays with the ding dong on my Male Bag. She used to get a treat for just touching or rubbing up against my Male Bag, but I started running out of food quick. Observe! Maybe you’ll learn something: