The Android Communuty Is Saved by Droid Hayabusa

You know what's a good time? Browsing the Android forums. The uninitiated often hear great things about the "Android Community," then they join and find out the truth for themselves.  This is what you get:

1. Forum moderators. These are the same the world over, from Android forums to porn forums (or so I can only imagine). Basically OK, but they can feel like the Fun Police at times.  Sometimes downright evil - like when we figured out that it was possible to strongarm Verizon into giving you unlimited data even after they "ended" unlimited data (hint: still possible) and they killed the thread, citing "fraud."  You fuckin kidding me?  You know that to run a smartphone with conservative usage on Verizon's network it costs like $90 a month minimum, right?  And we're the ones being fraudulent?  Riiiight...thanks for the unnecessary censorship, Darren Dipshit. 

Usually, however, these guys are pretty benign.

2. Developers. These guys are, for the most part, OK. They could probably communicate a little more openly, respond a little more consistently, and maybe use a lesson or two in expressing your point through the written word, but hey - they're developers.  Expecting amazing social skills from those gifted in the ways of computer code is a recipe for disappointment, surely we all know this by now.

These are the guys who bring you your custom ROMs, your custom themes, your hacks, your apps, and basically everything that makes your phone suck a little less than it did when Verizon finally permitted you to hand them $300 and two years out of your life in exchange for it.  So cut them some slack...they're alright.

3. Excited newbies. This is where a lot of the facade that is the layman's perception of the "Android Community" starts to wear exceptionally thin: the newbies.  These are the people who hop into the forum for the first time and end up stepping in shit because the Android Nazis say they stepped in shit.  99 times out of 100 has to do with a violation of some forum rule that no one knows or cares about (except the Android Nazi).  These are the people who register, make their first post, probably expecting a friendly greeting, and end up getting their asses handed to them.

Owning a smartphone isn't a symptom of a person who has a great deal of time on his or her hands - quite the opposite.  Smartphones didn't evolve based on demand from the lazy and bored.  So - hear me out - do we really expect a smartphone owner to spend a lot of time perusing a forum for no reason other than to get acquainted with the etiquette of the environment?  No, we do not.  We expect your average smartphone owner to visit a forum when he or she has a reason to: namely, when he or she has a question they need answered.

Further, do we expect a smartphone owner - a type of person that we've already established doesn't have a lot of time on his or her hands - to arrive at the forum and ask their question?  Or do we expect them to spend eight hours perusing the entire poorly-organized message board, making sure they're not posting a duplicate question, or starting a duplicate thread, or creating some other breach of imagined etiquette?

Seriously, I've seen some people talked to so poorly that I can only imagine that they immediately logged off, deleted their forum account, took their android device right back to the store and exchanged it for an iPhone.

4. Panicking newbies. THIS is where shit gets good.  These are the guys who show up and - right out the gate - it's instant entertainment.  This goes far beyond the excited newbie...while the excited newbie simply had a question, this newbie decided to take matters into his or her own hands and ended up fucking up in a major way.  You can recognize them thanks to some commonalities they share: one, they will have posted less than five times total in the whole forum.  Two, they will describe a problem with a phone, not necessarily theirs.  "Anyone know what to do with a Droid Bionic that just exploded in my crotch?"  ...that kind of thing.  Finally: eventually their will be some mention of panic or a physical symptom you associate with panic.  "Sorry for the typos, all...my hands are sweaty." "I feel like I'm going to throw up." That kind of shit.
These poor bastards are in a pickle: by trying to solve their own problem, they've typically voided their warranty.  So if they can't fix their phone on their own?  They're fucked and they need a new one!  Hence the panic.  Usually these guys don't get the same blistering response from the crowd as the excited newbie does, even if the panicked newbie manages to create a rift in the expected etiquette (spoiler alert: they always do).  My theory is that - admit it or no - we've all done idiotic shit with our phones, and although I like to think the crowd shows mercy because the crowd is sympathetic, chances are it's due to simply being afraid someone will, one day, call them hypocrites.

5. These fuckin weirdos who seem to know a lot about the Android platform but never contribute anything other than snarky comments.  Example:

Newbie: "Hey, all, at the risk of sounding like an idiot," (note how even the newbies have learned to front-load their questions with self-deprecation in order to lessen the wrath of the fuckin Android Weirdos who have nothing better to do than lash out at innocent questions) "...I'm trying to figure out _____ ___ ________.  Any thoughts?"

Weirdo: "Can't you fuckin read, you IDIOT?  Post 912, maybe wipe the shit out of your eyes next time."

or

Newbie: "Hi, ummm...sorry if this has been asked before, but...I tried to install this ROM and my phone caught fire.  What did I do wrong?"

Weirdo: "READ THE ORIGINAL POST, then fucking go kill yourself."

Fucking weirdos.  The Android forums are crawling with them.  These are the guys who are the exception to the rule: these guys ARE the lazy and bored smartphone owner.  These assholes have logged in thousands, sometimes tens of thousands of posts.  You fucking kidding me, you pathetic piece of shit?  Some poor bastard creates an account at your forum to find out why his phone is taking half a day to charge and, rather than just answering his fuckin question - like you've done tens of thousands of times before based on your number of posts - you bite his head off because someone else started a thread eighteen months ago with the same basic question and how-dare-he clutter up your precious forum with a duplicate thread?  What, like he should have checked the whole forum since time immemorial just to make sure no one else had ever asked the same question?  Do you know how long that would take (hint: he'd be able to charge his phone several times).  Go fuck yourself, you're not fooling anybody.

So here's how I'm going to save the Android Community - all your questions (the ones that matter anyway) are going to be answered right here, by yours truly (that's a pretentious way of saying "ME").  You can forever leave the forums to these chodes to fight and bicker amongst themselves.

1. "Is Tasker (app) as good as everyone says it is?"  Yes, but it sucks to figure out.  Next...

2. "What's the most underrated feature of the Android phone?"  The ability to make Nandroid backups and restore them with ease.  Research this.  Next...

3. "My battery life SUX, what should I do?"  Accept the fact that you are going to be dealing with a phone charger at least once a day.  You can try Juice Defender, but I always had trouble with it killing my data signal to conserve battery and being unable to reconnect.  I did rig Tasker to do the same thing and that works just fine (FOR ME).  The one negative you'll ever hear me say about Roman's AOKP ROM (aside from the fact that Roman may very well listen to Grouplove and like it) is that his power saver feature worked about as well as Juice Defender did - the data gets killed just fine, but resurrecting it is a NIGHTMARE.  Next...

4. "When people spell 'sucks' as 'SUX,' it makes me homicidal."  Me too.  Next!

5. "Do I really need to keep my GPS turned off in order to save battery?" This is one of my favorite Android myths of all time.  Absolutely NOT.  Yes, GPS is a battery killer, and yes, if you are actually using an app which uses your GPS?  Then your battery will suffer.  The GPS "switch" on an Android phone simply permits apps that require your GPS access to it.  That's it.  Seriously - not to sound snarky, like one of our Android Weirdos - but the platform wouldn't have gotten very far if it was built by folks who decided that it needed a toggle to activate and burn GPS for no fuckin reason.

Here's an experiment - toggle your GPS to OFF.  Then go drive around until you are good and lost in a really bad part of town.  Now pick up your phone and act like you're talking on it, but drive real slow - like a lost person trying to figure out where he is so he can get directions.  Once the locals discover your car and start approaching...tap your navigation widget and tell it to direct you home.

...fucking annoying, isn't it??  Adds like eight more steps.  Sorry if you got carjacked but some lessons are invaluable.  Just leave your GPS on.  You'll be FINE.  Next...

6. "I read the entire forum, start to finish.  No one warned me that my phone won't charge in certain states.  Thus, my phone died in the middle of flashing something.  Now my phone is completely bricked and I can't get it to charge at all."

This is one of the very few posts I've actually written myself and posted in the idiotic halls of Android Society.

Originally posted by DroidHayabusa:

At risk of sounding like a crazy person, here is what I suggest - we all have learned there are certain bricked/soft bricked stages where a battery cannot charge. So if you plan to continue messing with ROMs and themes....

1. Get a standalone battery charger for your current (and all future) phone model. Expensive? You bet, but it makes up for it by being inconvenient AND wasteful.

2. Create an All-Purpose Holy-Shit-What-Did-I-Just-Do BATTERY (not phone) charger. Here's how, and you're welcome:
A. Find a used phone charger that you don't mind mangling a little. If your office recycles old cellular devices, this is a great place to start.
B. Check the OUTPUT (stamped on the plug somewhere) on the new charger; compare it to your existing charger. FYI, I like to see everything match, but have had success with voltage being off by 0.1 (mAs have always matched at 850 for me).
C. Cut the micro USB end (or whatever end fits into the phone) off, strip out the exterior insulation and locate the small black and red wires inside. Strip about a half inch of the insulation off each of these wires as well.

DANGER: Ladies, you may want to make sure you have a change of panties closeby; you're about to see my hand for the first time.

"So let's get a party goin/let's get a party goin/Now it's time to party and we'll party hard (party hard)..."

D. Remove the dead battery from your brick and lay the battery flat somewhere hopefully away from puddles, gas cans, gunpowder, etc. At this point you want your new MacGyver charger to be UNPLUGGED from the wall. Hook the red wire to the + terminal of your battery and the black to the - terminal.
E. Plug your charger in. Obviously unplug it immediately if something goes awry, i.e. a fire starts on your arm.
F. Let your battery soak up the juice for several hours. Obviously all basic electrical safety rules apply...if you don't know the basic rules of electrical safety, my super-attorneys and I insist that you go with option 1 above.
G. If you've done it correctly, when you stick the battery back in your phone you should be able to proceed. So there you go - two more options for when this happens next time. A safe, expensive option, and a cheap, kinda dangerous option.

Sent from my DROID BIONIC using DroidForums

7. "What's the best ROM if I'm going to move away from stock?" Eclipse, by Nitro.  I would get naked with that dude if I could.  Unfortunately, the number of devices on which you can run Eclipse is somewhat limited, so...next up I'd refer you to Roman's AOKP (Android Open Kang Project).  Available on many more devices than Eclipse, and very good as well.  Just keep in mind that if you donate to Roman, he may turn around and spend your donation on Grouplove music.  You might be indirectly supporting Grouplove. 

8. "What's the worst thing about any negative situation?" Not knowing when it's going to end.  Think about it next time you're stuck in traffic on the freeway.

9. "What's worse than that?" Other people.

10. "You've answered all my questions, thanks.  Last one - what's the best app for Android?" Any app that does what it says it will do is AOK by me.

____

You're welcome, Android Community.

Bane Rises!

"When Goffam is...ashes...then you have my permission to die."

Seriously, I apologize.  I couldn't help it.  Sorry for the let-down.  Weasel is basically a good cat, too, so...sorry for making you wear the lid to one of Mommy's vitamins, Weez.  Go eat some cat food and maybe take a great big giant dump and spend ten minutes piling every grain of cat litter in the whole fuckin litterbox into a pyramid on top it.  You earned it.

Seriously - sorry for the self-indulgence.

D.H.

The Worst Band of All Time - Honorable Mention (pt I)

Ever wondered how bad you have to suck in order to cost me an entire afternoon's worth of writing time?  Now you know.

When someone lies to you, you simply make a mental note. Unless its a matter of life and death - and in the age of cell phones, car alarms, and mandatory bike helmets, how often is ANYTHING really a matter of life and death - you don't need to do anything other than making an entry in your mental diary that says "so-&-so is a dirty fuckin liar." Here's what you don't do: you don't write a song about how deeply it screwed you up emotionally. Not unless you want to be inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Vaginas.

Similarly, when someone violates your trust, you quit fuckin trusting them. That's it. Do you make a big deal about it? FUCK NO, not if preservation of your own dignity is of the remotest importance to you. And how important should preservation of one's dignity be? Well, far be it from me to testify on another humanoid's condition - let alone a future condition - but I'll say this: looking back over the course of my sword-wielding life, I am met with many memories that involve difficulty, increasing differences, and the ultimate decision (usually not mine) to put an end to the friendship/relationship. At the time, these events seemed earth-shattering to me ("I can't believe you're breaking up with me because I fucked your sister!"); however, many years have passed, and you know something? The one thing that matters to me in the slightest anymore in all these situations is how I handled myself; and in case you're wondering, YES, reacting (just in general - reacting) is one of those less is more scenarios if you want to not look back in utter embarassment.

Now, what if someone offends/hurts your feelings? What then? Do you deal with it privately, or do you make a huge fuss about it? About how you were FINE until so-&-so came along and now - through no fault of your own - you're a VICTIM.

What do you think I'm going to say? Do you think I'm going to support an artist who rehashes the ol' "I gave you my trust but you violated it and now my feelings are all messed up" theme every goddamned time they put pen to paper to craft a song? Or do you think I'm going to say:

Linkin Park: you are the biggest gang of pussies in the entertainment industry.

Seriously.  They can hide behind elements cut from a rougher cloth - heavy guitars, hip hop elements, screaming, etc. - but at the end of the day, Linkin Park is just a handful of pretty-boy posers whining about feelings and how unfair life is. BLOW ME.

I have a theory about these guys, and it is this: Linkin Park is a boy band that refuses to admit it.

Actually, let's go a step further: I have much more respect for your average boy band than I do for Linkin Park. Wanna know why?


1. Linkin Park promotes Victim Culture. Your boy bands of the past few decades? Sure, they may have produced the occasional whine-fest, but at least there were plenty of other themes incorporated in their other songs.  Linkin Park?  Let me ask you something.  You know how at work you have that one woman?  The one who's constantly snivelling about her medical problems, or divorce problems, or whatever?  The one who's constantly hissing?  (You may work in a place where there's more than one woman like this...if so, for the sake of this example, just pick the worst one.  Oh, and if you work for the government odds are good that every woman in your office is like this, so...you should find a new job before you kill them all and then yourself.)

Back to my point - let me ask you something.  You know that one woman at work, constantly whining about what the universe is doing to her?  Or bitching about what her husband (ha ha right) or family are doing to her?  Or complaining about how her supervisor just walks all over her?  This is someone who is addicted to being a victim.  This person has grown so fond of other people's sympathy that now she willingly exchanges parts of herself in order to get her daily fix.  Way too personal medical information?  She gladly hands it over in exchange for your pity.  Information about her family that her family would strangle her for sharing with strangers?  Small price to pay for a slightly sad nod of the head by the listener, particularly when it's followed with a "Jeeez, Dawn...I'm so sorry."

Listen very close right now: Linkin Park's music is the sound of the inner workings of this woman's mind as performed by heavy guitars.

Do you really want any part of that?  I'm not going to say BE A MAN, because - I'm betting, if you ran the numbers - 90% of Linkin Park's fan base are the same chicks who found themselves at twelve years old wondering where the fuck Backstreet Boys went.  But I'll say this - don't trade your problems for pity.  And you're not helping anybody if you go along with someone else's pity party, either.

2. Linkin Park is not particularly good at...anything. While boy bands employed dramatic dance moves, complex harmonies, and backup vocals, our buddies from Linkin Park employ Jack and Shit ("...and Jack left town," ...sorry, Ash, couldn't help myself). You know how Cartman claimed that every boy band had at least one member who was the tough one?  The only difference between Linkin Park and a boy band with guitars is that Linkin Park never agreed on which one was going to be the tough one.  I feel like the only reason Linkin Park even learned instruments is so they would have an excuse to not have to dance, you know?  At least N Sync had Timberlake on vocals.  Not only that...there was always a freshness to them.  You never knew what they were going to do next.  Linkin Park?  I bet their next single is about this one time where someone did something and now the whiny pussy singer's feelings are hurt.  Maybe hip-hop boy will throw his two cents in too.  I sure hope so.  He sounds like Will Smith, the greatest rapper alive.  You know what I'm saying???

Ninja's Note: during that last paragraph, I couldn't help but take note of the fact that I sound extremely pro-boy band.  Like maybe I am - or at some time have been - a fan of, say, N Sync or Justin Timberlake, maybe.  I assure you that this is not the case.  Ask my sister.

3. Linkin Park can't even keep up with Boy Band Rule Numero Uno - Always Look Good. Here's a secret - you want to know what drives a guy to grow a beard?  Sure, in some cases they just look cool - Manson had a cool beard for a while, the Unabomber...who else...oh, back when Pink Floyd went through their beard phase that looked pretty good.  But aside from that, you know what prompts the beard?  BEING FAT.  That's right.  The first stage of Man Fat is a slight swelling in your lower back that neither you nor anyone else will really notice.  The second - the belly and sides.  People may start to notice here, so...now's a good time to switch to baggier clothing, if you're for some reason incapable of losing weight.

Baggy T-shirt + facial hair = one fat mother fucker

Next up?  That's right - the face and neck.  This one's the killer, this is the one people notice first.  So the quick way around it - since the bulk of the problem (ha ha, pun) lies on the cheeks and neck - is to simply stop shaving and allow your stubble/beard to cover it.  You're not fooling anyone, Linkin Park - maybe a little more jogging and a little less Carl's Jr., you worthless shit bags.  Seriously, I don't care if people gain weight, but that all changes if their self-selected profession requires them to look good.  It's the same way I frown on a bank teller who shows up in sandals and a muscle shirt.

4. Linkin Park can't handle their drugs...so now they want to make sure you can't get any either.  Oh, for God's sake.  You want to know what the true litmus test for Absolute Vaginatude is?  Give a motherfucker as many drugs as he wants for a few years and see what happens.  If he has some fun and decides to keep on having some fun for the remainder of his life...awesome.  Good for him.  If he dies...also awesome; he was either dumb or unlucky, but either way...this overpopulated shit-herd just got a little thinner.  Maybe he'll do a little bit of drugs, here and there, and decide it's not for him.

Or!  Or maybe, just maybe, he'll end up doing a little bit of life-ruining because of the drugs; maybe he'll do a lot of life-ruining.  This is good and interesting, this is one of those lesser-known scenarios where you get a true glimpse of what a person is made of.  We were lucky enough to arrive at that exact scenario with Linkin Park's Chester...Bennington, I think.  This guy:

Yeah, that's him.  OK, so, here's the scenario: Chester gets all whacked out on blow and meth (yuck!) and comes to the conclusion that he's ruined his life.  You get this all the time with a certain percentage of drug users (though it's a much smaller percentage than those who are able to just use for fun, i.e. recreationally, and not develop a massive vein-collapsing, savings account-vaporizing problem).

Now, assuming the person ends up getting clean...this is what you'll see.  One of these two options.

Option A - the person gets clean, keeps it private, and goes on with his newly-discovered life.

or

Option B - the person gets clean, makes a big huge hairy deal about it including denouncing drugs, denouncing drug users, campaigning against drugs, etc.  In other words: trying to keep drugs out of the hands of others.

In case you haven't figured it out - maybe you can't read, or maybe you're a little kid - Option A is the acceptable, honorable option.  Option B is where you reveal your entire character to the world - and that character is a complete and utter coward.  Option B is what Chester picked.

I'm going to get a little personal and a lot political here - one could say that I've done my fair share of drugs.  One could go a little farther and say that YES, I, Droid Hayabusa, do offer you my personal Ninja Guarantee that I've done more drugs than every single member of this pussy band combined.  Further still, one could truthfully say that I wrecked my life a few times thanks to certain drugs.

Here's the thing, though - the thing that pussies like Chester here and the other proponents of mass discipline are too dense to see - mistakes I've made in my past and the subsequent lessons I've learned are what shaped me into who I am today.  People need to be able to make these mistakes or they won't be able to learn the same lessons that I've learned.  I want drugs to be around when my nephews go through high school.  Sounds fucked up a little, maybe, but I believe in my nephews to ultimately do the right thing.  You should believe in yours, too.

Looking at the same side of the coin a little differently - Chester, you're a fucking multi-millionaire in one of the most successful bands in the world.  Did you ever think that the lessons you learned from making mistakes with drugs gave you the mettle, or the fortitude, to get where you are today?  To be able to maintain in spite of what you have to deal with, day in and day out?  Yet you "denounce" drugs. 

I don't denounce drugs.  I don't do them any more, but I'm a firm advocate for them and I always will be.  I am PRO-DRUG.  They are part of our lives, and they're as American as apple pie.

BTW - Linkin Park, you're supposed to be rock stars.  Has anyone ever heard of Linkin Park doing anything remotely rock star-ish, like burning up a hotel room?  Actually...come to think of it...the last person I remember hearing about setting fire to a hotel room was...one of the New Kids on the Block.  WTF, am I listening to the wrong kind of music?

___

That's it.  I can't talk about this shit anymore.  FUCK YOU, Linkin Park.  I hope N Sync beats the shit out of you all one day. 

My Standard Sunday Morning Apology

Dearest Recipient,

I would like to extend my sincerest apologies for last night. My behavior/comments were completely and utterly unacceptable by even the most barbaric of standards.  I know this may come as some small consolation, but I wish to assure you that I have learned a lesson and this kind of behavior is never to be expected of me anytime soon again.

DAMAGES
First off, please be assured that any damages you may have sustained as a direct result of my behavior/comments - property damage, citations, impound fees, legal fees, etc. - will be paid for by me. Damages sustained as an indirect result of my behavior/comments will be addressed on a case-by-case basis. [Example: if I threw up in your car while you were driving me to Taco Bell, I'll pay to have the car detailed. If you crashed your car and are trying to suggest its my fault for throwing up, well think again, ass hole. Unless I puked in your eyes, you're on your own. Learn to drive under a bit of duress, it'll come in handy from time to time.  Especially in this shit city full of foreigners with no insurance.]

INJURY TO FEELINGS
Now, let's talk hurt feelings: yes, I am very sorry to learn that I hurt your feelings. However, a formal apology is only issued in the event that I was speaking to you directly at the time. Example: if you approached and greeted me and I responded: "Man, Helen, you sure are a Rhino Cunt," then I apologize. However, if I was speaking to someone else at the time and you thought you overheard me call you a Rhino Cunt, then absolutely no apology will be issued. Maybe I know more than one Helen, you know? (FYI I absolutely do not, so fuck you, Helen.) Maybe you shouldn't be eavesdropping; that's what Rhino Cunts do.

INJURY TO RELATIONSHIPS
Now, what about damaged relationships? Obviously, if any of your personal relationships were damaged due to my behavior and/or comments, this apology seeks to cover that. I'm sorry your whiny, shallow, worthless, fair-weather friends are holding you responsible for my actions when in fact they should probably be driving you to my house so you can kick the shit out of me without having to drive yourself home afterwards. That's what my friends would do. Maybe instead of worrying about me apologizing you should be looking to trade up in the friend department.

CRASHING YOUR EVENING
Now, odds are good I won't remember this next part, so be honest: in the event we ended up in or around your domicile, who invited me? Specifically...did you invite me, or did I just show up unannounced? If so, that is covered by this apology as well: I AM SORRY.

REGARDING URINE
Now...I have to be a little blunt for this next part: was pee [urine] involved? I have to ask because it sometimes is. I hope for everyone's sake it was not, but if it was, then this apology seeks to cover that as well. Not so much the basic stuff, like a little splash around the toilet rim, or getting pee all over the seat or floor around the toilet [you spend 30+ years exclusively visiting men's public restrooms and you invariably begin to theorize that if men were expected to apologize every time they missed their mark, the world would screech to a halt with no room for anything save nonstop apologies].

No, this apology is more geared to those "Hey...who the hell peed on the cat?" -type morning-after moments. I am truly sorry if I peed on/onto/in/inside your furniture/houseplant(s)/houseguest(s)/litterbox(es)/Christmas tree/roommate(s)/appliance(s)/laundry (clean or dirty)/priceless photo album(s)/pets, or just in the event that urine was discovered on something valuable and/or cherished in general. Sorry bout that.

One caveat - if your complaint is that someone peed in a sink rather than a toilet, well, I'll apologize and also point out in a helpful fashion that if the sink's drainage was adequate you never would have noticed, so...you know. Oughta get that looked at before next time.

REGARDING CHILDREN
Now, were children - either your children or children under your care - present? If so, I am very, very sorry for the comments I invariably made in front of them. I further apologize for any "talks" you find yourself compelled to have with said child, perhaps decades ahead of schedule. I even further apologize for any unfortunate - but funny, you have to admit - permanent expansions of said child's vocabulary.

REGARDING VOMIT
I am extremely sorry if I vomited in or on anything precious to you.  Just try and focus on the fact that vomit is like 98% (I forget the exact figure but that looks right) perfectly healthy, edible food, so...just pretend you spilled almonds on your bearskin rug or something.  Hey...who has a bearskin rug?  You know it's 2012...right?

Now, it's always possible that I made it to a "safe" zone before the vomiting occurred, and thus nothing was damaged, but maybe the sound of violent spewing upset the evening and put everyone off their drinks.  Well, shit.  What do you people want out of me?

I will apologize in the event the evening goes like this: I arrive at your house (invited or not), puke within the first five minutes, and then pass out somewhere.  That sucks when that happens.  I always wake up sweating bullets that I went on a total rampage and end up finding out I didn't do shit.  Still...sorry for the lack of entertainment.

REGARDING RAPE- AND/OR DIET-RELATED HUMOR (AND OTHER JOKES)
Sadly, this has happened often enough to where it's actually more efficient for me to type this whole thing out and from now on just point people in this direction: sorry if I made too many rape jokes and sorry if I went around telling your guests to go on diets.

Not sure why either of those have happened more than once, but that's what I'm told...

Now what about specific insults? You're going to want to be extremely careful and weigh your risk/reward scenarios very carefully here, for one very good reason: I have been known to deal out some doozies when it comes to post-blackout insults...yet I will have no memory of any insult the following day. This means that, unless there were witnesses, you are the only person who has any inkling what I said. Do you really want to bring another person into that particular loop? I mean, if the insult bothered you enough to where you want an apology, its obviously grounded in one form of reality or another...do you really want to indirectly admit to me that you're completely ashamed of your disgusting, shameful, ugly cankles by insisting on an apology? Especially when the alternative is to force yourself to let it go, thus maintaining the public illusion that you're fine with the way you look. Well, think about it. I certainly would.  Just remember this one thing: until you tell another living soul, it's as though the insult never happened.  Isn't that the ideal outcome?

REGARDING YOUR (PROBABLY) EMPTY LIQUOR CABINET
Go ahead and check...I'll wait right here.  You back?  Good, here goes: I am sorry that I either partially or completely emptied your liquor cabinet.  Rather than reimburse you (which simply addresses your current damages but leaves you and your liquor cabinet exposed to future losses), I will use this as a teaching moment (you'll thank me) -

You need a dummy liquor cabinet.  That's all there is to it.  You need to put one, maybe two moderately-priced bottles of liquor into the single most obvious "liquor cabinet" inside your home (a dusty bottle of the cheapest champagne you can find is also a nice, realistic touch).  Now, for the real stash: find a handy place and load it up with liquor.  A Moment of Pure Truth: under your bed is not only convenient but, if you're a lady, I guarantee you'll find your next husband that way. Anyways, yeah...loads of booze, anything you might possibly want.  Leave the crap in your "liquor cabinet" to the blacked-out bozos who show up unannounced and start ransacking your shit.  You can be calmly sipping the good stuff the whole time, content in the knowledge that you'll be out $40 tops, even if the drunkard wipes out your cabinet entirely.

You're welcome.

Now on to some fairly big-ticket line items:

REGARDING FIRES:
If the fire was in your home: I am very, truly, sincerely sorry for causing a fire in your home.  Hope you've been diligent about checking your smoke detectors.  Hey, here's something I just thought of - now we know (if you've been diligent enough)!  So, you know...silver lining.  All that.

If the fire was around your home: I am outlandishly sorry for causing a fire around your home.  However...quite honestly there are many more valid-sounding excuses a person could come up with for why they started a fire in an outdoor setting versus an indoor one.  I'm choosing to be honest rather than employing an excuse that would, quite honestly, probably fly.  So, you know.  You're welcome. 

If the fire was inside your car: I am as sorry as ever for causing a fire inside your car.  Being that I quit smoking almost a year ago, I can only imagine what we were doing.  So, yes, you must have had a part in it too.  But I'll still apologize.  Fires in cars can kiss my balls.

If the fire was on your person: oh, settle down, I can guarantee you (if you are most people) that this was an accident.  You didn't see me demanding an apology from DC when that crazy mother fucker lit me on fire and I had to spend my freshman year in Ninja Academy with hairless legs covered in bandages and scabs.  Lighten up.  ACCIDENTS HAPPEN, you flaming pussy.

REGARDING MOTOR VEHICLES:
If the motor vehicle was yours: I am very sorry I caused a massive disturbance with your vehicle.

If the vehicle was taken with your permission: I am sorry that your car was involved in an incident of some sort while under my responsibility.  Hopefully, if nothing else, this unpleasantness will serve as a reminder in the future: if you're going to insist on an apology over a particular object being involved in an incident...might be wise to not loan that object out.

If the vehicle was taken without your permission: Words cannot express my feelings of apology as well as my gratitude for your gracious choice to not contact law enforcement (or at least not contacting them and pointing them in my direction).  You have always been a good friend, [insert your name here], one of my only true friends.  I will find a way to make this up to you one day or I will die trying!

If  the vehicle was involved in an accident: I am extra-sorry for that.  I have insurance, just help me fabricate a good story that we can both live with.

If the vehicle was involved in a crime: I am sorry that your car was used in a crime.  I am more than willing to trade license plates with you temporarily.  Unless it's murder.  And if that's the case...do you have an alibi?

If the vehicle is now someplace it shouldn't be (i.e. "upside-down on your front lawn," for example, or "parked on Chris Martin's ribs"): I am sorry that your car is [insert inappropriate location here].  If you say it was me, then I believe you, even though we can never really know who did it.  They just don't have the technology for that kind of thing.

If the vehicle now reeks of [insert name of presumably bad-smelling odor here]: Well, OK, sorry...I guess.  I mean in the big scheme of things, you could be a lot worse off right now than just having a car that maybe smells like zoo feces or amyl nitrate.  You could be a person of interest in The Case of the Car Parked on the Coldplay Singer's Ribs.  So I'll apologize but quit being a baby about things.

Even I don't know why no one's ever bothered to try and park a car on my ribs!

If the motor vehicle was not yours: Why am I talking to you?  Whose car was it?  Do I need to come up with a new name and appearance in a hurry or are they cool?

REGARDING FAMILY HEIRLOOMS:
I am, without question, sorrier than I've ever been in my sorry, sorry life to learn that I broke/sold/vandalized/dry-humped/ate your [insert precious heirloom here].  It fills me with an endless grief and remorse to know that I've not only harmed you, but future generations of your family will suffer as well because of me and my poor behavior.

However, I would make a slight, barely-noticeable proposal (if you will allow it) - have you ever had your DNA tested?  I realize this is a touchy issue, but if you think about it: you're on the verge of ending a (presumably decent) friendship over a family heirloom, right?  And this is something that would cease to be an issue if this object turned out to be an heirloom from a family that was not your own...correct?

I would humbly suggest that you look into getting your DNA tested, just to be safe.  Just to confirm that Aunt Eva's brooch really belonged to your aunt.  Just to be sure that Uncle Adolf's 7.65mm PPK really belonged to your uncle.  Then we'll know for sure, and everyone will be friends again.
---

IN summary, I wish to state my profound regret for any of the above actions or comments that may have occured last night.  I also wish to state FUCK CHRIS MARTIN.  I mean LOOK AT HIM.  FUCK.  Why do you people put up with this goofy-eyed Bono-wannabe mother fucker?  YOU MAKE ME DRINK, AMERICA.  FUCK!

Derivative Crap I Hear Wayyy too Often

Up-and-coming musicians of the world, please take note: there will come a day where, for whatever reason, you will decide to seek other like-minded and like-spirited souls to try and determine if being in a band is the thing for you.

You'll start out by banging your way through some popular tunes that musicians of today can't help but to know, probably some Green Day, maybe a little Foo Fighters as it was with Nirvana back in the 90s.

Eventually, assuming the above exercise isn't an abyssmal failure, you will look to begin developing your own material. This is one of the most critical points in the development of your blossoming supergroup - it represents the point at which you will define your "sound."

What You Should Do:

Make a mental list of those musicians/bands that are so inspiring to you that you believe they've had an influence on your development as a musician. Strive to write original material wherein a bit of homage towards the folks on your list is acceptable, but no more than that. Remember, if they've truly influenced your playing, you've got your work cut out for you already - because you are already going to sound like them to a degree. You need to be cognizant of this at all times so you can control it. Remember - less is more when it comes to your influences. The more you sound like your influences, the less you sound like you.

What Not to Do:

Take a single artist that you like and whole-heartedly replicate their sound and songwriting style under the misguided notion that the airwaves are big enough for the both of you. Just like these assholes did:

The Dirty Heads

"I-I'm/spread way too thin,
Gettin paid lotsa money because
BRAD-ley's dead..."

I will never forget the first time I heard these dick holes on the radio, because my immediate thought was: "Wow, a new Sublime track...wonder why they didn't release this sooner."

So...do they sound like Sublime? Let me answer your question with a question: do they ever NOT sound like Sublime? From reggae foundations to hip-hop influences to a singer that apparently spent years taking Bradley Lessons, these guys can really do no wrong (unless you think thievery is wrong). I often wonder in situations like these if the band's decision to - let's get real here - become Sublime is founded in greed versus genuine appreciation. You know? Like do these clowns love Sublime that freaking much that they simply can't help stealing their sound? Or...more likely, I imagine...are these guys simply aware that Sublime gets daily radio action in spite of the fact that they haven't released a new track in twenty years? You can just tell these are just the kind of pussies who would sound completely differently if Bradley hadn't kicked the bucket because they would be too afraid that Bradley would show up and kick their teeth in. Look at them. Looks like Jay went on to form a band after breaking up with Silent Bob.

As it stands? Bradley's son is probably about full grown right now. I like to think one day soon he'll show up unannounced during a Dirty Heads show and beat the living shit out of the whole band, right on the stage. I'm talking guitars broken across necks, drumsticks poked through nut sacks, entire microphone stands rammed up assholes, etc.

Ninja's Note: so you don't misinterpret, I actually dislike Sublime. It might sound like I'm defending them here, but its really just a matter of disliking theives more than I dislike Sublime. Enemy of my enemy, and all that. K?

This Fu- Oops Sorry, Wrong Guy

This Fuckin Guy Named Jake Walden

 

Fuck me. With the possible exception of Dirty Heads, no one - and I mean fucking no one - goes out of their way to emulate their "inspiration source" (if one can suggest that inspiration and theivery are even remotely related) as much as this asshole.

Ninja's Note: I say "possible exception" because I don't really listen to Sublime. I recall enough of their music to feel comfortable declaring shenanigans on the Dirty Heads, but that's about it. But I do listen to Tom Waits.

This Walden asshole's ambitions go well beyond the level known as "intentionally emulating another artist."  These ambitions streak right by the plateau known as "existing in another artist's shadow," and wind up approaching some "fairly-creepy Talented Mr. Ripley shit." Like if anything fishy ever happens to Tom Waits, I'm automatically pointing at least one finger at this asshole.

Let's get this out of the way - Tom Waits released his first two albums and then his voice changed dramatically. Some people like to suggest that he intentionally adopted a vocal style in the vein of Louie Armstrong. So how can I complain that this idiot has adopted a vocal style that Tom Waits took from someone else in the first place?

Easy: one, I don't buy that shit about Waits. He's a heavy smoker plus he was a heavy drinker back then and his voice was bound to get a bit more gravelly at some point. Two, if you look at Waits' entire body of work it becomes pretty clear the guy just does his own thing however he feels it should be done (I.e. "however the instructions from the Mother Ship dictate"). The goddamn guy bangs brake pads together for a percussion section and you're telling me he wasn't confident enough in his own vocal style that he had to steal one from someone else? Fuck you: not buying it. Third...the vocals are not the sound, nor are they the identity. Tom Waits has an identity that is completely independent of Louie Armstrong (and arguably the rest of planet earth...but that's a topic for another day). Want to know who does not have an identity?

Enter Jake Walden: a knock-off artist whose sole Lifetime Ambition and Plan - from what I can tell - is to a) wait for Tom Waits to die, b) change his name from Jake Walden to Tom Waits, and c) deny a & b if anyone notices and calls him on his bullshit. I know Elvis impersonators that would be wowed by this guy's ability to completely absorb another human being's soul and then wear it as though it's his own.

Seriously, y'all - this guy doesn't just try to rip off Tom Waits a little bit.  He doesn't try to partially rip him off and then distract his audience from noticing with a completely different style of music.  Nope, this fucker went for it.  He went for it so hard it's like he's trying to intimidate us into not thinking anything.  I'm surprised he didn't get plastic surgery.

If anyone out there is in the early stages of planning my Christmas present for 2012, here's something that I would cherish for years to come - I would love to watch this guy be forced to explain himself. Just sit him down in an interview setting, lock the doors, roll the camera, and unload.

Specific questions I'd like to have answered:

"1. What would you do if you woke up tomorrow and discovered a young up and coming nobody was blatantly ripping your style and sound off? Like to the point where it made you feel creepy and everyone was totally uncomfortable when they heard it?"

2. "How much time and effort did it take to force the normal-sounding vocal cords you were born with into submission such that you could better emulate another person's singing voice?"

3. "Wouldn't it have been better to just...sing? Like in your own voice? Forget wasting all that time learning how to impersonate Tom Waits. You never know...if you had, you might be much farther along than you are."

4. "If you were to get the living shit kicked out of you during an interview, would you prefer to know about it ahead of time, or would you rather the interviewer surprise you from out of nowhere with a sudden haymaker?"

5. "You know who I really like? Have you ever heard of Tom Waits? Exceptional, isn't he? Can you imagine how lame it would be if - instead of developing his own sound - he'd simply copied someone else's? Ha ha, you'd go from respecting the guy to wanting to punch him!"

6. "I bet if someone hit you in the neck real hard you probably wouldn't have to strain so badly to get that genuine Waits harshness in your voice.  (That one's not a question, just an observation.)"

Fuck that guy.  Next up:

The Toxic Airborne Event

Why wait for Neil Diamond to die?  Steal his shit now, fuck it! 

(Neil Diamond better still be alive or I'm going to look retarded.  I should check...)

OK, so...I don't know shit about these clowns other than the fact that I'm familiar with one of their songs.  Just one.  And it was enough to get them listed here.  For those that don't know the song I'm about to refer to, that fact should at least partially illustrate how bad of an offender the song must be.

Picture this: five epic failures - much like the ones in the above photo...in fact, let's just make it easy and say exactly like the ones in the above photo - five epic failures hanging around in some bar somewhere at night.  They could be celebrating, but I much rather think they're probably out trying to take their minds off the fact that they're not really that good as a band.

So after the table's downed about fifty drinks - actually I take that back, any one of those guys look like they'd faint before they finished a six pack - after their third drink or so, right as their feminine-looking member is working up the nerve to tell them that she's quitting the band to go back to Hogwart's...a song comes on the radio.  Sweet Caroline, by good ol' Neil Diamond.

Now, one of the drunken failures - not sure which one but if I had to guess I'd say it was probably, uhh, the one who looks like he's probably better at math than the rest of his bandmates - theorizes about how all a band would need to "make it" is just to have one song that became a bar hit, like a cult favorite.  Something like a - gasp - a Neil Diamond song.  Cartoon light bulbs light up over at least four of the heads (not sure about the guy on the far left, he looks like he might need some flash cards or something).

Fast-forward to today - shit.  Every goddamn day now I have to hear "Sometime around Midnight," the product of five schmucks sitting down to see whether they can write a song that is virtually indistinguishable from something Neil Diamond would have put out back in his heyday.  And sing it like Neil (as close as a mere mortal can, anyways).  Oh, fuck me.  Just end it all.  Please let this be the end of this post.  Please let this be the last thing I have to think about today...

Rise Against

"Yup, don't fuck with us.  We'll steal your sound."

Fuck.  Ing.  Hell.  I can't even talk about this one.  Every day I have to hear Offspring songs like "Self-Esteem" and...what's that other one?  "Keep em Separated," yeah.  I guess that's what it's called.  Anyways, the point is this: every goddamned day I have to hear these Offspring songs.  These are songs that have - inexplicably -  received DAILY PLAY for ALMOST TWENTY YEARS now.  Jesus! 

And now, guess what, the second coming is here - I get to hear crap from a band that seeks to sound like this overplayed miracle that is the Offspring: "Rise Against."  DAILY.  Why do you accept this so willingly, world??  FUCK FUCK FUCK, it's bad enough when I hear a new Offspring song...but at least they're the original act and not the fuckin rip-off artist.  FUCK!

Well, I do believe that's about it.  Oh, except wait!  I forgot about my number one favorite Life Rule:

Never miss a chance to rip on Coldplay. 

Coldplay

"We did a smashing good job of washing Bono's car, didn't we, mates?  Yeah, as soon as they're done getting their photos taken they'll talk to us for sure..."

Want to know what an Official Coldplay Band Meeting would sound like?

"I like the verse here, and the chorus flows well, but...what about this part here?  How should I play this part?"
"Well how would U2 play it?"
"What do you think of this idea, guys: band uniforms?"
"Well has U2 ever worn uniforms?
"Guys for once can we forget about U2? Come on...uniforms...let's put it to a vote!"
"Well does U2 vote or do they all just do what Bono says?"

---

If this doesn't stop...hmm.  Where do I see this ending up...well, for one, we'll have more knock-off acts.  And the knock-offs will start borrowing identities from bands I really don't like.  I see a whiny Smashing Pumpkins-esque group in our not-too-distant future.  If I squint my eyes real hard just before the blackness takes over I can see a...yes...yes it's all clear now...it's a fucking Red Hot Chili Peppers wannabe band.

Do you people want that shit?  I fucking don't.  Quit supporting these soulless pussies.

God DAMMIT.

Ladies' Fashion 101 (pt 1) - Maybe Cramming Your Misshapen Body Into Skinny Jeans Isn't Working Out As Well As You Think It Is

Ladies,

If you take nothing else away from this post, please at least absorb this: you gotta find yourself a friend. Let that be your prime directive for the day - identifying (or making) one friend that you can trust. Someone who will tell you the truth, no matter what...especially when he or she knows the truth is the last thing you want to hear. Someone to whom you can assign the daunting but critical task of telling you how you honestly look in your clothes.

Just because skinny jeans are the thing right now doesn't mean you should wear them. You need to get that friend of yours to stand behind you while you try your clothes on, honestly evaluate what they see, and then share the results of that evaluation with you.

Now you may be thinking: well, I have many friends that I kinda trust...and they've all seen me in skinny jeans, and since none of them said anything to me I think I can skip all this, right?

NO, you retarded harlot, NO. FUCK. Why do you think I want your top priority to be identifying the most honest person in your life? Because most of your shitbag friends are not honest, at least not with you. Most of your shitbag friends are more than willing to watch you make a complete ass of yourself and then talk about it later behind your back. YOU KNOW I AM RIGHT.

Now, at the risk of being accused of fear-mongering, I am going to share something with you that no one has ever shared before. Put your listening ears on, because it involves the one thing that your kind cares about more than anything else on the planet - the mind of a man.

The following is what goes through a guy's head when he passes a woman on the street and suspects she has a less-than-stellar figure but can't be certain because she (smartly) selects outfits that keeps her figure shrouded in mystery:

"Hm. I really don't know...I guess I'd fuck her. Maybe, yeah.  I could see it.  I'm really not sure. She might be kinda big. Wait a minute...maybe I like big...do I like big? Shit, I don't know...wait, wait...am I an ass guy or a tit guy? Might be OK if I'm a tit guy...could go either way if I'm an ass guy. Fuck, I give up...maybe I should go talk to her and try to figure out what's going on."

See how that worked? Our hero couldn't tell for sure, and - solely because of this - he ends up deciding to talk to the girl. This tactic that I am suggesting - for free, thank you - takes advantage of a particular protocol hard-wired into the male brain - unless the man has irrefutable evidence that a woman is not attractive, nothing is ever off the table as far as that man is concerned in regards to that woman. Why is this important?

I'm sure you ladies were born with the answer, but what the hell, I'll spell it out if, for nothing else, the benefit of any guy who might have stumbled here and might still be reading.  On a scale of one to ten, a man will give an eleven to impress a girl he knows he wants to fuck, he'll give a nine if he's not sure if he wants to fuck her or not, and he'll give a big fat double zero if he knows he won't fuck her now or in the forseeable future.  ...you starting to see why it's so important to stay off the "do not call" list, gals??

Now, this wouldn't be a complete study without me offering an alternate take on our scenario. So here we go...this is what happens when our hero - the same guy as before - passes a girl who - thanks to her skinny jeans - is revealing her less-than-perfect figure to the world in absolutely no uncertain terms.  Matter of fact, let's include a visual aid on this one:

My apologies if this is actually a dude.  Just imagine it's a girl, but with that for a butt.

Here's our girl.  And our male lead?  Following her down the sidewalk.  And now, once again, we enter the mind of our hero:

"Jeez, that dude's skinny jeans are kinda fucked up...obviously this is a guy who never read Droid Hayabusa's advi-

WAIT. Wait just a goddamn minute...that's a chick! Is that a chick? That's a fuckin chick! Holy shit, that's a girl! Hahaha! Man I would never THINK about fucking that. Matter of fact I should slow down, I need to keep a Safety Zone between Mrs. Manbottom up there and my dick.  Just in case...you never know.  We might slip.  I'd hate to slip and end up giving her an Accident Fuck.

"God, how awful that would be. It would actually be better if it WAS a dude. I'm completely heterosexual and I am saying that I would be more attracted to that body if it belonged to a dude. Seriously, if you held a gun to my head and forced me to either fuck a dude or that? I think I would pick the dude. Yeah - I would rather fuck a dude. Even a super-hairy one.

"Jesus. Wait a minute...what about doggystyle, would that work? Bending her hips so the butt is stretched and hopefully not as noticable that way? Nah...too risky. If it didn't work I'd literally be right on Ground Zero.  Hmm. Maybe I could just fuck her in the mouth? No...that wouldn't work, even if I couldn't see her garbageman butt I'd know it was there. Hmm...what if I could talk her into wearing a lampshade as a skirt...no, I'd still be too close to it. Shit, this is ruining my day.

"What if...what if I pushed her hips into a closet and closed the door on them...hmm. Yeah, and I could kinda yank her hair until her head was facing the opposite direction, so I'd be staring at her boobs and the back of her head at the same time, and I could pretend I was banging an alien or some kind of mutant? Man...hard to say. That might work, but...where am I going to find a closet within the next couple minutes?

"What about this...what if I pushed her head into a wastebasket and pretended I was doing a hot mannequin, like that pouty-nippled thing at Gottschalks? Wait, no...shit, if the garbage stinks that'll wreck my boner. Hmm...I guess I could always saw her head off...oh, wait, nope...illegal. What a bind!

"No, the only way this could work is if she agreed to come with me immediately to a butt surgeon and get that idiotic thing fixed. Otherwise there is just no way I would even consider fucking her.
How does she get her butt to do that? I wonder if she had surgery on her butt...maybe she had butt cancer and had to have the lower part of her butt amputated. Either way - thanks but NO THANKS, lady. Not with a stolen dick.  Are there such things as butt surgeons?  There should be.  I should write my Congressman.  Who is my Congressman?  Great - more shit I have to find out.

"God damn.  I would think fucking just about anyone would be better than robo-butt up there. Courtney Love? Yeah, fucking Courtney Love would be preferable to that. Liza Minelli? Yeah, I'd probably rather go for it with Liza Minelli than with that chick. Kevin Costner?  Yeah, no question, I'd go nuts-deep in the Kev long before the rear-end amputee up there.  Mel Gibson? Yeah, I think I'd rather fuck Mel. My boss? Yeah, I'd probably rather do it with my boss. My boss's boss? Yeah, shit, probably.

"Michael Jackson?  Yeah, definitely.  What about Michael Jackson back when he was black?  Yeah, OK, sure.  What about Michael Jackson now?  ...yeah, still, it would be better than that gangly fruit with the Boy Scout butt.

"OK, here's one - Lady Gaga.  Absolutely YES I would rather fuck Lady Gaga than this walrus stuffed into denim.  OK, what about this - Lady Gaga, but Lady Gaga wearing a fat suit that's slick with some kind of oil?  Hmm...nope, not un-turning me off on this buttless wonder at all, not yet.  I'll take Lady Gaga in a fat suit covered in oil.

"...seriously, this is breaking my brain.  All a woman has to do is look good.  THAT'S IT.  That's all she would have to do.  All this bitch had to do today is wake up, look at herself in the goddamn mirror, accentuate the good parts and obscure the bad parts.  THAT'S IT.  Is that so fucking hard?  Instead she decided to dress herself up so she looks like she's smuggling someone's baby across town in the seat of her pants.  Fuck!  Is this a migraine coming on?  God I hate this woman.

"OK, time for a rapid-fire pop quiz.  Off the top of my head:

My neighbor? Yes, I would rather fuck my neighbor than a girl with a butt like that.
My mailman?Yes, I would rather fuck my mailman than a girl with a butt like that.
Local news anchorperson? Yes, I would rather fuck muy local news anchor person than a girl with a butt like that.
Weatherman from the local news? Yes, I'd rather fuck the weatherman than a girl with a butt like that.
Nice chubby lady from the gas station? Yes, I'd rather fuck the chubby lady from the gas station than a girl with a butt like that.
Werewolf-looking, can-collecting homeless guy? Yes, I'd rather fuck the homeless werewolf guy than a girl with a butt like that.
Greek lady at the deli? Yes, I'd rather fuck the Greek lady than a girl with a butt like that.
My mother?  ...yeah, OK, I'd rather fuck my mother than a girl with a butt like that.
My sister?  Yeah, her too.
My cousin?  Hell yeah, that's the easiest one of the three, gimme a hard one next time.
OK...Danzig. Yes, I would rather fuck Glenn Danzig than a girl with a butt like that.
A threesome with Danzig and a Great Dane. Yes, I would rather have the threesome than a girl with a butt like that.
Robocop? Yes, I would rather fuck Robocop than a girl with a butt like that.
A Predator? Yes, I would rather fuck the Predator than a girl with a butt like that.
The Toxic Avenger? Yes, I would rather fuck the Toxic Avenger than a girl with a butt like that.
A Penis Duel with a hungry rattlesnake's mouth? Yes, I would rather fuck a hungry rattlesnake in the mouth until one of us died.
A loaded bear trap? Yes, I would rather fuck a loaded bear trap than a girl with a butt like that.
The push switch to a biological weapon? Yes, I would rather fuck-start a bioweapon than a girl with a butt like that.
An AIDS needle? Yes, I would rather fuck an AIDS needle than a girl with a butt like that.
Sigfried & Roy's tiger collection? Yes, I would rather become a tiger gangbang recipient than fuck a girl with a butt like that.

"OK, so that's settled: I'm probably never going to even consider fucking this girl.  Now, let's get theoretical - let's take a girl that is universally accepted as being a superhottie...let's take Jessica Simpson (or it can be Jessica Alba if the last few generations of your family haven't had very much money).  Now attach Robo-Butt's rear-end to Jessica in your imagination.  Picture it as vividly and clearly as you can, try to hold on to the image.  ...Jessica...plus the butt in the picture up there.  Now...you got it?  OK, so answer me this - would you fuck this new buttless version of Jessica?

I don't think I would!  Here's why..."
___

Well, ladies?  Did we learn something today?  Do you really want to be out thinking you're turning heads & breaking hearts but instead you've got guys walking behind you thinking things like that? Aside from learning that maybe getting whistled at by a construction worker isn't necessarily the worst thing on the planet, I hope we learned that - in spite of the massive importance your kind historically places on how you look - how you look just might be even more important than you think it is.

You're welcome.

D.H.

Men's Fashion 101 (pt 1) - How to Pull Off Skinny Jeans

Remember back when you were just a child? All those dreams you had, all those glamorous and exciting things you saw yourself doing? Maybe being a rock star, or James Bond, or soldier, or cop? Or - for you ladies - maybe a housewife, or witty spinster, or Richard Gere's mistress? Remember those days?

I only mention this because I just realized that I was about to sit down and write what could and probably will be construed as "fashion advice," and when I came to this realization I actually heard myself say out loud "Oh my God, what have I done with my life." Thought maybe some of you would understand.

Permit me a second little preamble here. Those of you who know me in real life know that I often make the following observation: "No one is ever as smart as they think they are." I'm going to offer an amended yet no-less-valid variation of this concept:

FEW PEOPLE ARE GENUINELY HONEST WITH THEMSELVES WHEN IT COMES TO HOW THEY LOOK.  With this firmly in mind, we forge onward: I have come up with yet another easy way to help mankind (by which I mean the MAN half, of course) - how to determine whether or not skinny jeans are for you. I've done this in my usual way - by compiling a list.  Please see below.

Please do not be this man.

THE COMPLETE LIST OF MEN WHO CAN PULL OFF SKINNY JEANS:
1. No one.
2. Especially not you.

Easypeasy, no? Your decision has been made without an ounce of heartburn. You love me. You wish you could vote for me in some way.

Now - is this going to help anything, this list of mine? Honestly - probably not. Few people see this blog, and fewer still heed anything I say (its been like that ever since my "Jesus Is Bullshit" campaign back in junior high). I seriously doubt I'm going to stop anyone from making the mistake of buying and/or publicly wearing skinny jeans.

With this in mind, I propose a second list. THE COMPLETE LIST OF TECHNIQUES THAT MEN IN SKINNY JEANS CAN EMPLOY TO PRESENT THEMSELVES IN A PASSABLE WAY.

1. The sag - this is an option that - unfortunately - we are ALL familiar with by now. For those of you who have been in a coma from the 1980s up until this past week, I'll explain: back in the late eighties, the hip-hop culture - which up until this point could really only be called sub-culture - became mainstream.

What did this mean? Well, for one, it meant that all of a sudden a look that had previously only been favored by criminals and other types who wished to conceal a) their weapons and b) their physical descriptions caught on overnight, and suddenly no one's clothes fit.

Additionally, dudes began to disagree with professional clothing designers about the belt line of their pants; it became commonplace to see pants intentionally lowered from their intended position on the hips by anywhere from two to eight inches.

This is the technique I'm recommending here. The good - its easily the cheapest option, works with any pair of pants you might find, AND it will work on those you already have. The bad - it typically looks pretty retarded if you end up giving people a glance of your new and improved beltline, so pay attention to your shirt length and limit reaching overhead. Oh, and in case it does happen - be mindful of the fact that your boxers are now part of your visible ensemble and select them accordingly.

Ninja's Note: this is not to be construed as my permission to go be a goddamned fool.  You only need to sag an inch or two; you want to remove groin pressure by creating slack in the fabric and lower the crotch of your jeans.  That's it.  Don't be retarded.

2. The drop crotch - this is the preferred method for several reasons.  First, a photo.

There we go.  You see that?  All the room and comfort of normal pants whilst maintaining the - I guess - aesthetically pleasing look of skinny jeans.  Looks like you're sagging a bit...but you're not.  Also known as carrot fit, this is the more expensive option but the one I recommend if you have the means without the common sense enough to heed my first warning, which is just not to do skinny jeans period.

Reasons why this suggestion is better than anything you could come up with on your own:

A. For you sag enthusiasts, note that you can't accidentally pull your pants up and look like this until you figure it out and sag them again:

B. You can have less-than-attractive thighs and still get away with it (compare the drop crotch image with the image at the top of the post and tell me which is less uncomfortable to look at).

C. It's a slightly edgier look, which - let's face facts here - is what 99.9% of you who dabble in skinny jeans are going for anyways.  Admit it - you don't wear them to look like Eastern European gymnasts, like the guy in the image up top.  You wear them to look like you might be an ex-member of Green Day.

The bottom line - go with the drop crotch.  You can still look like a member of AWOLnation without showing the world your individual ball wrinkles if you accidentally pull your pants up too high.

3. Be a high school student - High school kids can get away with it, and even if they couldn't, it's fuckin pointless to even try.  Lucky for us, no one gives a shit about what high school kids do anyway, and unless you live on my street, no one even notices.  If you do live on my street, you've probably got crosshairs pointed at you RIGHT NOW, so STAY OFF MY FUCKIN LAWN.  You JACKASS.

Anyways.  Forgot what I was saying.

Just don't be retarded, look at yourself in the mirror once in a while, and if you notice that you look like a fuckin retard, don't turn and look at yourself from a different angle thinking it'll change.  Be honest with yourself for once.  SHIT I get tired of handholding you people.