I've got it all figured out.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Leslie Nielsen: February 11th, 1926 – November 28th, 2010 R.I.P.

Leslie Nielsen dies yesterday. He was 84 years old.

I always liked Leslie. Even though he’s been in over 100 movies, I’ll always remember him best as Frank Drebin.

It’s amazing how an actor who in my mind has always been an old guy can bring back such fond memories of being young. Saturday night sleepovers spent watching Airplane! and Airplane 2 back to back. With a case of mixed loose pops from Mr. Grocer and a large pepperoni and mushroom pizza for sustenance. (Remember when pepperoni on pizza was crispy? Why is modern pepperoni such bullshit?! Sigh , I can’t get into this now. This is a whole other post.) Now sure Airplane! is a funny movie. But if you’re 9 years old with 4 cans of Coke in you, Airplane might as well be your Vice Principal in a dress wiping out in dog shit.

And I know Leslie Nielsen wasn’t in Airplane 2 but by that time we’d had 6 pops each and what little attention span we had left was spent on fort making/arguing over wither or not Boba Fett was a robot or not. Airplane 2 was barely witnessed. It sucked anyway. Except maybe the wrestling bit.

Hey did you know Leslie Nielsen was on WWF back in the 90s?


I remember being 11 years old and getting my parents to drop us off at the Showcase cinema an hour early so we could sneak into Chuck E. Cheese next door (they HATED unsupervised kids and you really did have to sneak in) to play video games. Then going to see Naked Gun after we got kicked out (I think one of us asked Chucky if he was a homo.)

And hey, O. J. Simpson was in it too.

Ha, ha ha. He’s a murderer.

And of course Leslie was also in The Creepshow. I can’t leave that out.

Leslie Nielsen. 1926 - 2010. Let him RIP.

Friday, November 26, 2010

You can land your Sky Striker right here and you don't have to back it out!

You know what I hate? Those stupid home buying shows on TV. Why would anyone want to waste an evening watching some pin head and his foaming at the mouth wife go around and look at houses they might buy? They even have one show where they show them houses they could buy if they were millionaires. What the fuck is that?! I’d rather watch that monkey drink his own pee for an hour.

Remember me? Ooh Ooh good.

I’ll tell you what; if I was a millionaire I wouldn’t be buying some used cookie cutter mansion like they have on that show. I’d want a new mansion, custom built. Like Penn Jillette’s Slammer.

He even has Garry Busey’s drivers licence above the urinal!

I don’t know if I’d want my house to look like a prison from the outside though. Maybe I’d base it on the G. I. Joe Aircraft Carrier. I always wanted that thing and my parents never got it for me. I’d put a fountain out on the flight deck and one of those driveways where you don’t have to back out. All good mansions have those.

It was 71/2 feet long for fuck’s sake!

I don’t think I’d have a butler. I don’t want some dusty old guy skulking around my house. But I do like the idea of having someone take my hat and coat when I come in the door. Maybe I could dig up Alan Napier and have him stuffed and mounted as a coat rack. He was the guy that played Alfred on the old Batman TV series. But I wouldn’t have him dressed in his butler uniform. I’d have him dressed as Batman. It always cracked me up on that show when Bruce Wayne and Batman had to appear somewhere at the same time and Alfred would dress up as Batman. Who in their right mind is going to believe that a 70 year old man with a white pencil mustache and coke bottle glasses in a baggy costume is actually Batman?

Boy Batman sure has lost weight. Maybe it’s all those prune smoothies we saw him drinking at the last Wayne Foundation Party.

I don’t really care what the kitchen looks like. Just as long as it’s not yellow. I heard somewhere that yellow kitchens increase incidents of domestic violence. Something about the colour and setting that makes people angry. Although I would like a fridge that has a special shelf to hold pizza boxes. Oh and one of these too please.

Now that I’ve made you a delicious snack out of garbage, perhaps you’d like to eat it in the dining room? I guess I’d have to have one of those big long mansion tables that all rich people eat at.

Bonus: Guy in the mirror looks like he’s playing keyboards.

It would be nice to have all the condiments and things on RC cars so that you don’t have to get up to fetch them. I would also like some little jumps for them on the table. I’m a fast eater so this would help to amuse me while I wait for everyone else to finish. And at Thanksgiving the gravy boat could jump the centre piece on the back of one of those rev up Evil Kenevil toys.

After dinner I usually watch TV. I don’t need anything too fancy. Sure I’d have the big HD flat screen and surround sound and all that but I don’t want one of those home theatre rooms with the movie style seating and everything. I don’t really like sitting in movie theatres. I’ll just sit on the couch. I’d have a bean bag chair too but not for me. It would be for people that I don’t really like to sit in. Because bean bag chairs suck.

It kind of looks like a boob because it is a boob. Now take a seat Mrs. Bernell and let’s talk about how much of a bitch you were when I was in grade 4.

I’d like to have a game room. Maybe with like a pool table and a dart board in it. Oh and one of those creepy armwresling arcade guys.

I particularly like this one do to the addition of plastic broads.

Maybe I could have someone famous over to play pool like Brett Baxtor Clark. Yeah I could have Brett over to play pool and then leave the remaining balls on the pool table to remember what a great time we had. Then some reporter could come over to interview me and sink the balls and I’d scream, You ruined my Nick the Dick memento! Then lock him in a closet at gunpoint like Phil Spector did to that guy that ruined his Minnesota Fats pool balls.

Bonus: The judge at Phil’s trial totally looks like Bruce Willis!

Let’s talk toilets. Once again I’m not fussy. As long as it holds pee and poo and gets rid of it when I flush I’m happy. One thing I don’t want is one of those cushioned toilet seats. They’re gross.


The bathtub though has to be good. I want a big bath tub. I’m sick of all these tiny bathtubs made for puny creeps. I want a bathtub made for a man. So big that you can practically swim in it. Like that one Francis had in Pee Wee’s Big Adventure.

Maybe more of a bathtub made for a man-child than a man.

Upstairs is the master bedroom. And yes I’d have stairs. No elevator, escalator of fireman’s pole. Who the fuck wants to slide down a fireman’s pole on a Monday morning? Maybe I’d have a dog gondola for Mutton because she doesn’t like the going up and down stairs sometimes.

File Photo: Crazy person’s dog.

Now a bedroom should be just for going to bed. So I would like a bedroom that’s just all bed. Just a wall to wall mattress with a bunch of blankets. Sort of like a human nest. Instead of night stands I’d have recessed shelves in the wall. That way I could roll around all night and not worry about falling out of bed. It would definitely have to be one custom made giant mattress though. I don’t want a bunch of different mattresses all pushed together. That would give off a creepy swingers party vibe.

Hey Johnny, I like what you’ve done with the bedroom. Me too. So do I.

I’d need a big back yard for Mutton too. With a big pond for her to swim in. And while we’re at it why don’t we put a jet ski in the pond. In case I ever have douche bags over.

Oh and since Mutton’s a sheep dog I should get some sheep back there . Except then I’d have to feed them and take care of them. I know. I’ll just higher a bunch of midgets to come over once a week dressed up as sheep and she can chase them around for a couple of hours.

And there you go. That would be my house. And I can guarantee it won’t be featured on any of those stupid house hunting shows. Maybe Weird Homes. Now there was a good show about houses. Remember the episode where they showed that crazy guy that built a castle out of old embalming fluid bottles?

Ha. Ha. Ha. He was mentally deranged.

Well I better go. I’ve got to fish a dead midget out of the pond and gas up the jet ski. Criss Angel’s coming over.

Yes he spells his name C-R-I-S-S.

He wants to try one of my magic hot dogs.

Check Ya Later.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Ask the Magic Internet a Stupid Question No. 0015

Some people say that the government is going to tattoo barcodes on everyone. Like this:

Most of the people that say that look like this:

I’m not really sure what they think the government is going to use the barcodes for. I think it has something to do with your taxes or your healthcare or your freewill or a bunch of other crap that isn’t half as interesting as this Slim Jim based creature exploring a hot dog roller.

One thing I am interested in though is finding out if these barcode tattoos actually work. Has anyone ever tried to scan one? If they do work they could have some useful purposes beyond the mass slavery of the near future’s population.

We could put them on babies so there’s no more mix ups at the hospital.

Or Kevin Federline could get a Coca Cola UPC code sandwiched between some of the regrettable tattoos on his ample frame.

That way he won’t strain his hooker arm lifting the 6 cases of Coke he buys every week up to the self-serve scanner at Wal-Mart.

It could also come in handy for sluts.

File Photo: Sluts.

They could all get barcodes tattooed on their asses that give out their phone number when scanned. Then when whatever douche bag is plowing them that night takes out his iPhone to take a picture of said ass (you know this will happen) he can use the handy iPhone barcode scanner app and booyah, he’s got her digits to(and maybe even her name).

Babies, K-Fed, slut, the possibilities are endless but only if the barcode tattoos work. So Magic Internet…

A one, a two, a you know what to do.

Question 14: Can you actually scan barcode tattoos with a scanner?

Woooooooooooooop. Woop. Woop. Wop. I II I III I II I II IIII I III Zurp. Zurrrrp Ding!

Magic Internet Answer: I dated a 1400i Retail Scanner once. We met at a barcode. Ha. Ha. Ha. Internet make joke!

Sigh. Tough crowd. Let us get right to it then. To answer your question we must first discuss how a barcode works. Here is a typical barcode.

Most see it as a collection of perpendicular black lines. Which is true but the white spaces between the black lines are just as important. A scanner needs to read both the black lines and the white spaces in order to decipher the code. So right away we know that the wearer of a barcode tattoo must have fairly light skin or have had white ink used in the creation of their barcode tattoo in order for it to have any chance of being read by a scanner. White ink used in tattoos does not show up very well, even on darker skinned individuals. So it would seem that the only barcode tattoos with a chance of being read by a scanner would have to be on light skinned people. (That should send those new world order conspiracy nuts back to the kitchen to design a new hat.)

Even on light skinned people, most UPC barcode tattoos (the most common type of barcode) do not scan. This is usually because the barcode is too small. The average tattoo needle line scanned at 300dpi measures at around 7 pixels. If we divide 300 by 7 we get 42. This means that the original barcode design that is to be tattooed on an individual must be at least 42dpi.

Note: This one is too small.

Every UPC barcode is a standard 95 units wide. If we divide 95 by 42 we get 2.26. This tells us that a tattooed barcode must be at least 2.26 inches wide for it to be read by a scanner. Most people that receive barcode tattoos have them done at a size of around 1 to 2 inches. In order for a barcode tattoo to be readable a skilled tattoo artist needs to make the tattoo almost twice the size of a standard barcode. But don’t make it too big as most scanners have maximum input level of 2.5 inches. Perhaps that’s why things didn’t work out between the 1400i and me. I was too big for her. Wink, wink.

Oh my, they’re getting closer! I better wrap this up. To answer your question Johnny, yes under the right circumstances and with some difficulty barcode tattoos can be read by a scanner. Don’t believe me? Have a look.

See. Isn’t math fun!

Well MI, math was fun. Then they stopped selling these babies.

But thanks for answering my question. And you know what? I have another gift for you.

Next time you want to tell a joke, set these guys up first.

I’m outie 5000.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Ask the Magic Internet a Stupid Question No. 0014

It’s been a while since I’ve gotten a black eye.

It’s probably because I look like this:

And I walk around carrying this:

But I do get bruised from time to time and one thing I’ve never bothered to do is to try and put meat on it. You know, that old timey comic/TV/movie thing where the boxer/housewife gets a black eye and then puts a steak on it?

Yeah that. I’ve never tried that. First of all it’s gross. I don’t like handling raw meat never mind putting it on my face. Secondly, who just has steaks lying around all the time? I buy steaks maybe once a month. And if I buy a steak I’m going to eat it! I don’t have a fridge full of steaks to throw away. Who am I, Uncle Ricoh?

I’ve only ever seen someone put a steak on their eye in real life once. It was this guy I knoew that found out that his girlfriend was cheating on him. When he confronted her about it she broke up with him and moved out. Later on he got drunk and tried to pick a fight with her new boyfriend at a bar. The new boyfriend beat him up and gave him a black eye. He never said if the steak helped his eye or not. He just said that he was drunk and that he couldn’t wait to eat the steak later. He also said, Never let your girlfriend convince you to throw out your bed when you move in together.

But do you think it helps? Do you think raw steak has some sort of healing properties? There’s only one way to find out.

Question 14: Does putting raw steak on a bruise help it heal?

Whoop. Whoop. Whoop. Whoop. Zip. Bop. Wrrrrrrrrrrrr. Sizzle. Ding!

Magic Internet Answer: No, Johnny. Applying a raw steak to bruised skin will in no way help it to heal more rapidly. IN fact it could make the injury much worse. Raw meat can be covered in harmful bacteria. Introducing all that bacteria to an open wound or a mucus membrane (i.e. your eye) could cause a serious infection.

File Photo: Gross Serious Infection

What someone has probably experienced when they claim to have had positive results from applying raw beef to an injury is the cold temperature of the meat helping to bring down the swelling. However reduction in inflammation can also be obtained with the use of an ice pack or even a frozen steak wrapped in plastic. The results will most likely be better than those obtained by raw meat.

Thanks Magic Internet. Now to thank you for your loyal answer to this stupid question and for potentially saving me from a barf inducing gross eye, I’d like to present you with this machine crafted high resolution plastic statue of Uncle Rico in his famous Steak Throw pose.

Thank you Johnny. I fear I may tear up here and short circuit. Time to power down. Good nighhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Hey dad! Pass the Unnnnnngha Bunnnnga.

The other day I was walking along Dundas past the police station when I overheard a conversation between two students. I’m not going to hazard a guess at what they were students of. I feel I’ve already sullied what I believe to be their academic ambition enough in a previous post. It was actually less of a conversation and more of a statement by the male student to his female counterpart. This is a direct quote:

I realized something the other day and it made me feel like the smartest man alive. I realized that if you take the first letters in cop and porn and switch them it spells pop corn.
I’ll give you all a few minutes to let that sink in and find something to punch or break or to just generally morn the future of the human race. If you need me I’ll be listening to Pop Corn by Hot Buttered.

All done? Good. Now it’s safe to say that this young gentleman’s revelation is, for lack of a better word, stupid. Why he chose to share it with the young lady I do not know. Perhaps he was trying to woo her. Since the rise of Facebook and the Twitter, the courting rituals of today’s young people are a complete mystery to me. I think it involves a lot of emoticons and the exchanging of pictures of one another’s junk.

But people say stupid things all the time. I do it, you do it, we all do it and young people seem to do it a lot. Let me give you another great example. I was at a show about a month ago and there was this teenage guy with his girlfriend standing behind me and he was telling her about some new ska band that he liked. She’d never heard of ska before and asked him what it was. Here is how he replied, another direct quote:

It’s like a mixture of No Doubt and jazz.
Yep. That’s what he said. He said this:

Plus this:

Equals this:

Now I’ll give you a few minutes to take in that dynamic piece of musical intellect. If you need me I’ll be watching this Prince Buster video.

Made some time between the death of Miles Davis in 1991 and the release of No Doubt’s third album.

Alright. See, people say stupid shit all the time. Hopefully they think back to it, cringe from the recollection of it, learn a lesson and move on. It’s no big deal. They’re only hurting themselves, right? But what about parents passing their stupid on down to their children. Parents tell their kids stupid things all the time. Sometimes it’s because they’re actually ignorant. Sometimes it’s because they’re trying to hide the ugly truth in order to preserve the innocence of youth a little longer and sometimes it’s just because they’re too lazy to come up with the right answers to the numerous questions their children ask them. The sad thing too is that kids are little sponges that will soak up whatever asinine load of shit their parents tell them. Don’t believe me?






If that’s not enough then let me give you a first hand experience. In fact let me give two. Both of these gems come from my annual trips to the zoo. The few friends I have with children are all fairly intelligent and I hate going to malls so the zoo seems to be about the only time I’m surround by stupid parents and their kids.

Little boy: (upon seeing a plaster cast that is obviously a hippo skull outside the hippo enclosure): Daddy what’s that?

Dumb Dad: I think it’s a dinosaur skull. They must have found it while they were digging the hippo pit.
The thing I like most about this answer is that it actually takes more thought then coming up with the right answer. Yes, Dumb Dad. It’s a dinosaur skull. And they found it while digging the 8 foot hippo pit. And instead of sending it to a lab or a museum they just left it beside the hippo enclosure for people to manhandle and sit on. Sigh, if only that hippo could aim.

Look close at the beginning and you can see the skull in the background.

This second one comes from the Australasia pavilion.

Dumb Weekend Dad (pointing at the orangutans): Look son. Monkeys!

Little Boy 2: What kind of monkeys are they dad?

Weekend Dad: Uhhhh? Orange monkeys!
First of all who’s never heard of orangutans? They’re in contention with the gorillas and the polar bears for the title of best animal at the zoo! And there’s a plaque right there that says orangutans! Come on Weekend Dad! It’s only 2 days, you’ve got 2 eyes. Put some effort into it.

But what can you do? No one should be able to tell a parent how to raise their kids.

Parents of this kid excepted

The only thing we can do is sit back and laugh at the results.

So I’m going to give all you dumb parents a break. Dumb dad’s; go ice up your nuts for a while. Dumb moms; go watch Sarah Palin’s new reality show. But before you do, plunk your little dunderheads in front of the computer and Uncle Johnny will edumacte them for you.

Uncle Johnny Creepshow’s 5 Fun Facts for Dumb Kids:

1) You know where mustard comes from? Wasps. That’s right. Bees make honey and wasps make mustard. That stuff all over your face when you eat a hot dog? That’s wasp turds.

2) Speaking of turds. Do you know why you poop? I’ll tell you why. It’s because your spine never stops growing. That’s right. Every day you grow about 8-10 inches of new spinal cord. And the old spine at the end turns brown and falls out of your but like a snake shedding its skin. It’s all because we’re descended from dinosaurs.

File Photo: Your great, great Granddad.

3) Pizza didn’t exist before 1969 and was discovered by Michael Caine while filming the Italian Job.

Most of the film involved driving and Michael Caine couldn’t drive at the time (you’ll notice you never see him drive a car in the film). So when they filmed the driving scenes Caine would watch the action from on e of the many Italian sidewalk cafes while having a nice meal and a few bottles of wine. During one scene one of the Minis lost control and went careening into Caine’s table just as he was tucking into a spaghetti Bolognese and garlic bread. When the dust settled there was Michael Cain’s garlic bread, flattened like a pancake and covered in tomato sauce and cheese. He was so furious about his ruined lunch that he forced the stunt driver to eat it. And that’s how we got pizza.

Thanks Michael.

4) While we’re on the subject of fast food, you know Arby’s famous curly fries?

They are made right on the Arby’s cattle farms by feeding the cows potatoes and then extracting the partially digested potato mush from one of the cow’s four stomachs via a special faucet in its side.

That’s why the fries are curly and it’s also why they taste like burps.

5) And you know those miniature bats they sometimes give out at baseball games?

When baseball was first played the bats were actually that size. And they weren’t swung by people. They were swung by puppets. It’s true. Baseball was invented by puppeteers as a way to relax between Punch and Judy shows. Hence the term slugger (or slug her).

Yes, I’m afraid America’s favorite pass time is just an overly complicated and drawn out metaphor for spousal abuse.

There you go kids, don’t forget to tell your friends. Now get off my rug before you dent the shag.