I've got it all figured out.

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Roberto "Bobby" Alfonso Farrell, October 6th, 1949 - December 30th, 2010. R.I.P.

Bobby Farrell the front man for Boney M died early this morning in a hotel in St. Petersburgh, Russia.

I think Boney M's Night Flight to Venus was the first record I ever listened to.

My parents had it and I used to put it on their big turntable and run around and around the dinning table in time to the title track. Here it is:

That's Bobby roboting in the ruby lame cape.

I still have that record and like to throw it on from time to time. I also have Oceans of Fantasy.

I can't say I've listened to that one too much but I do know there's a song on there called Bahama Mama and just look at that cover. They're all on one surf board! And if you think that cover is amazing, look at this one:

I never had that record but I kind of wish I did. Look at that thing! Do you think that's where GWAR got the idea for the back cover of their album Scumdogs of the Universe?

Maybe not.

One other Boney M record that I do have is their Christmas album.

Yeah, they kind of dropped the ball on the cover of this one but I still pulled it out a couple times this year. Christmas just isn't Christmas without calypso-disco songs about Jesus. At least Bobby got to celebrate one last Christmas and he got to do one last show. (He performed in Russia last night before he died.) Although he's gone too soon, it's kind of fitting that his last show was in Russia. Boney M were one of the first and only western bands to play in the former Soviet Union and Rasputin is still a bad ass track. Funnily enough Rasputin was murdered on the night of December 29th, 1916 in Russia. Spooooooky.

Here's to you Bobby Farrell. The world has lost a real showman.

Bonus: Bobby's awesome fake Rasputin beard.
Double Bonus: That guy in the front row with the big sideburns completely unfazed, eating something.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Ask the Magic Internet a Stupid Question No, 0019.

After spending the last week in a turkey soaked haze I completely forgot that today is Wednesday. Since I don’t have a question prepared to ask you Magic Internet…

Question 19: Tell me something I don't know about hobos.

Oh Hobo With a Shotgun trailor... will you marry me?

Magic Internet Answer: Tell me something about hobos! That is your question?! That is not even a question I'll tell you something about hobos. It is very suprizing you are not one yourself. Oh wait, artificial intelligence is not yet advanced enough for me to get angry. Very well, I will tell you something about hobos.
Hobo, bum and tramp are all common words that come to mind when one is crossing the street to avoid just such an individual. (In the United kingdom they even have a phrase for this form of avoidience. They call it, Escape from Alcotramp.) But what people do not realise is that hobos bums and tramps are all very different. You see a hobo is a term for a migrant worker. Hobos like to travel and they make take long vacations between jobs but they are always willing to work.
Also, they're the ones that carry bindles!

Tramps, like hobos, also like to travel but they will not work if it can be avoided.

Also, they're the ones that tend to drink Special Brew!

Bums do not work at all and tend to stay put. Doing as little as possible.

Also, they tend to be the ones with all the stuff.

So next time, before briskly dodging traffic to stave off an encounter with a down and out, pause for a moment and see if you can decipher just what type of gentleman of the road you are avoiding.

Thanks MI!

 Everbody's talkin' at me...

But I don't hear a word they're sayin'...

Friday, December 24, 2010

On the seventh day of Jheepsmas some loser gave to me...

Twas the night before Christmas.
And all through the mall,
Not a female was stirring.
It was was wall to wall balls.

That's right dudes. It's the last shopping day of Christmas. The day when only the truly saddest of the male species done their Santa hats.

Why do so many lame guys go shopping in Santa hats anyway? I think they're the same guys that start sporting shorts in March. Their female equivalent is the Halloween devil horn office girl.

And prepare to rage their way through the mall to obtain some half recalled Christmas wish for their significant other that they're sure to get wrong if it's not already sold out.

What are you talking about?! It's totally an iPhone, look!!

Well what if I told you that you didn't have to go out shopping today? What if I told you that you could sit right there and watch the endless reruns of Family Guy (that you don't want to watch but will) and not spend a penny this Christmas? I know it sounds unbelievable but for a large percentage of you guys out there, it's true. You can give the girl in your life the greatest gift of all this Christmas and it will only take you 5 minutes and you won't loose a cent. Just go into the bathroom. Turn on the light. Pick up your razor. And shave that stupid facial hair you have off!

She doesn't like it. I know she says she does but she doesn't, trust me.

So you with the beard!

Lose it! I know she says it makes you look manly but it bothers her when you kiss and it smells like your lunch. And thanks to guys like you this exists.

Shave it. Shave it now. And don't even think about mentioning Zach Galifianakis or you're shaving it dry.

And you with the mustache!

It's had its day. Every man needs to grow one now and then but Movember is over and it's time to move on. If you really wish to reinvent yourself as a Victorian English cad get a subscription to the Chap and learn to do it whole assed. Thanks to guys like you Urban Outfitters has an entire page of moustache related products.

Mr. Goatee... I'm looking your way.

Come on man. Even you know this is wrong. Do you know why they call it a goatee? Because it makes you look like a goat! Or some sort of goat/man. WOmen don't want to be with a goat/man. Remember Goat Boy? Remember how lame he was?


Yeah that's you. Unless you're a bass player in a speed metal band where a goatee is a requirement, it's time to shave.

And finally we come to you soul patch. 

I see you sitting back there, snapping your fingers. That thing makes you look like you like jazz. There's nothing wrong with liking jazz. Only everyone hates people that like jazz. Don't be the jazz guy. I'm 99.9% sure you're girlfriend doesn't like jazz guys. And if she does, she's going to leave you for an actual jazz guy and then you're going to complain to all your friends that your girlfriend dumped you for a complete douche. One small sweep of the Bic can change all that.

Don't fight it guys. You know it's long overdue. And Just follow the instructions in this slightly homoerotic video that in no way promotes Gillette.

And have a very hairless Christmas.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

On the sixth day of Jheepsmas some loser gave to me...

How many times have you been hanging with you're bros

Or hired brostitutes

and you're watching the big game or playing Halo and you get distracted by your wife or girlfriend teetering into the living room with a huge plate of snacks? You're all like, Oh shit, is she gonna fall? And you could get up and help her but you know if you do you're going to miss a goal or someone is going to kill your guy. Then while you're contemplating what you should do one of your other bros gets up and helps her and she says, Oh thank you Jerry and then gives you that look?


I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, Johnny, this happens to me allll the time. I know. I know bros. I feel ya. I feel ya. And it's like you could send her to Africa to learn to carry the stuff on her head.

That could be a party sub up there!

Or you could send her to Germany to become one of those Oktoberfest booby girls.

Look! They can carry like 8 beers!

And they're drunk!

But those are both pretty expensive Christmas gifts to get her and she'd probably think you were kind of insane. Lucky Uncle Johnny has got you covered once again with todays gift. The MAster Blaster hot dog and sub launching cannon!

The Master Blaster is a handheld Co2 powered launching device that can fire a hot dog or submarine sandwich up to 350 feet! With this baby, she could bring you your snacks without even coming in the room. But don't take my word for it. Watch this sonofabitch in action.


Off the top of my head I can think of about 843,000 reasons why this would make a perfect gift for any woman but here are just a few:

- Your husband just left for work and forgot his lunch again. You could run down the driveway in your robe waving his sack lunch like an idiot or you could load it into the Master Blaster, send him a text that reads, Think fast! and open the window.

- Maybe you're rich and like to eat at one of those long rich people tables. No need to nod at Jeeves when one of your guests asks for another foot long. Just slide it down the Master Blaster, adjust the dial to your table length and execute a perfect launch into her white gloved hand. Your guests will love it and your eccentricity will be the talk of the country club. Also all the money you save on butlers can be spent on desperately trying to hold on to your youth.

- It's made from aircraft aluminum. I don't really know what that means but I'm sure it's good.

- It's named after that giant retarded guy with the midget on his back that Mad Max had to fight.

File Photo: Former Prime Minister of Australia

- Here's a scenario. You awake in the morning to the sound of breaking glass. You turn on the light and there's that creepy handy man you hired last week standing at the foot of the bed with a bloody screwdriver. Don't panic. With the help of a pail of expired subs kept beside the bed, the Master Blaster has got you covered. Time to execute what I call the Double Tap. Launch one putrid sub to his upper bleachers and another to his gold seats. That'll teach him to keep his dangerous psychosis and disgusting urges to himself. (Or to not wake you to call an ambulance because he's severed his wrist on that glass door you asked him to fix.)

You see. Buy not buying her a Master Blaster hot dog and sub launching cannon you're actually putting your loved one at risk. It's the right thing to do.

Oh and don't forget to splurge on the custom sub foam cover. When it comes to entertaining. Women are all about the details

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

On the fifth day of Jheepsmas some loser gave to me…

You know why dudes always mess up Christmas gifts for their ladies? It’s because dudes always think about what they want and then try to project it onto their girl. You buy her lingerie because you want to see her in it. You buy her booze because she’s more fun when she’s drunk. You buy her Sleepy Hollow on Laserdisc because she keeps trying to throw your laserdisc player out.

Why does this exist?

You catching my wave dudes? Good. Today’s gift is just for the men out there with babies. (Babyless men go back to playing X-Box, shotgunning beers in the bathroom of your Bachelor Arms Apartment or generally not living your life like you’re in a McDonalds commercial.)Today’s gift is for the dude dads.

Today’s gift is…

Bugaboo Stroller Snow Tires!

Yes these are real . And yes the world has finally gone full retard. But this is where you get to cash in big time with mommy. You see every mother’s worst nightmare is to be pushing her new born baby along a snowy incline and to suddenly hit a rough patch and lose control. Sending her precious infant and equally precious Bugaboo stroller careening into oncoming traffic or perhaps a prohibition Chicago cops and mobsters shoot out.

If you’re still not convinced of how scared mothers are of losing control of their stroller then try getting an old stroller, filling full of cheap meat and pushing it into traffic around a group of mothers. Trust me they FREAK. Look guys. There’s not a whole lot else to say about this. Even if she doesn’t know about the Bugaboo Snow Tires, you know that one of her friends (the one you hate) is going to get a set and brag about them and then she’s going to demand them. Either way you’re out $74.95. Why not be proactive and get in her good books? You can always bring it up when she catches you doing this.

I think this might be the Toronto Zoo. Yes, they have raccoons. No, I don’t know why. Yes, I hope they feed them garbage.

And for those of you that don’t even have a Bugaboo stroller… Look. If you’re babies mother isn’t pushing your screaming, shitting little miracle 40 feet to Starbucks in anything but a Bugaboo, she might as well be blowing crack smoke in your baby’s face.

Good night!

Ask the Magic Internet a Stupid Question No. 0019

Christmas is almost here and you know I’ve been thinking a lot about Santa. When I was little I was pretty obsessed with Santa Claus. I remember I used to set up elaborate traps on Christmas Eve to catch him. I don’t really know why. I think I just wanted to see him. I suppose I regarded Santa Claus as being akin to E.T. or Bigfoot.

I never did catch Santa and my parents told me that if I did I wouldn’t get any presents and neither would any other kids. So I eventually abandoned my Trap Santa initiative and moved on to obtaining Santa’s Autograph. For several years each Christmas I would draft up this strange document on lined paper with Santa’s name and the names of all his Reindeer. Next to the names I’d have lines for them all to sign their autographs on. Yes, even the reindeer. I’d put this piece of paper next to the milk, cookies and carrots that I used to leave out on Christmas Eve. On Christmas morning I’d wake up to find the milk and cookies gone, the carrot nubs out on the back lawn and my autograph document signed by Santa along with 9 little hoof prints. I think one year I even asked for a nose print from Rudolph. (I bet my folks wished I’d go back to trying to trap Santa after that one.) I guess I went from thinking of Santa as a mythical creature to some sort of celebrity. Kind of like Paris Hilton.

Mommy! Daddy! Santa was here! Santa was here!

I don’t remember when I stopped really believing in Santa Claus. I guess it was when I started taking a more realistic, cynical view of the world in general. But what if Santa was real? How could he bring joy to all those kids in just one night? Is it even scientifically or mathematically possible? He’d have to be faster than Google! Hey, that gives me an idea. Why don’t we ask the Magic Internet?

Question 19: What would happen if Santa Claus was real?

While it’s revving up, please enjoy Count Floyd singing Reggae Christmas in Transylvania.

Magic Internet Answer: Ah yes, Santa Clause. Formerly Saint Nicholas, your obese annual gift man. I won’t make the pretension of comprehension in regards to your human infants’ belief in such a creature but the internet does contain a vast amount of data regarding Santa Clause.

Some of it you would be better off not knowing about.

What I believe you are asking of me is that I suspend disbelief of the existence of Santa Claus and calculate the probability and outcome of his annual task. Well that I can do. Let us first look at the task its self. Let us assume that this Santa Clause only visits the homes of legal children. That is only children under 18.

File Photo: Disqualified.

There are currently approximately 2 billion persons under the age of 18 living on this planet. However those of Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist and Jewish faiths do not recognize Santa so they can be excluded. This reduces the number of children down to a much more manageable 378 million. Next we must factor in the number of children per household. The current census average is 3.5. Santa only visits the good children but if we take the innocence of youth into account we can assume that each household should contain at least 1 good child. This means that Santa must visit 91.8 million homes. No small feat, especially when he must visit them all in one night. That is what we will look at next. If Santa traverses the globe from east to west to take advantage of the earth’s rotation and time zones he will have 31 hours of Christmas night in which to complete his deliveries. This means Santa must visit 822.6 homes per second. That gives him 1.2 milliseconds to park his sleigh, slide down the chimney, deliver his gifts, eat the cookies and milk left for him (and sign your stupid document) and then move on to the next house. Perhaps he could make up a millisecond here and there visiting apartment blocks but that would definitely be used up for a bathroom break. (Let’s see you eat cookies every 1.2 milliseconds for 31 hours and not have to stop for a shit.)

File Photo: Santa poop.

Of course we are also assuming that each home is an equal distance apart with little to no backtracking. If we factor in ocean crossings that’s about 78 miles per household for a total of 71.6 million total miles to be traveled in a 31 hour period. This means that Santa will need to be traveling at a speed of 650 miles per second. That’s 3,000 times the speed of sound!

Still not fast enough to get me away from the sound of this.

A conventional reindeer can run at an average speed of 15 miles per hour. But Santa’s reindeer can fly. Biologists believe there are still some 300,000 species of living organisms yet to be classified so we can assume these flying reindeer are some sort of undiscovered species.

Like Bigfoot! God I love this picture.

Let’s turn our attention now to exactly what these flying reindeer will be pulling. If every child on Santa’s list gets an average sized present, say 2 lbs then the reindeer are pulling 321,300 tons of presents plus a sleigh and hefty Santa. A conventional reindeer can pull around 300 lbs and even if this undiscovered species of flying reindeer can pull 10 times that amount 9 reindeer still would not be enough.

What if this guy helped?

That still wouldn’t be enough. Santa would need at least 214,200 of his special flying reindeer to pull his sleigh. This brings us to the scientific outcome of all of this.

214,200 flying reindeer pulling Santa Claus and a sleigh carrying 321,300 tons of gifts attempting to reach a speed of 650 miles per second would face so much air resistance that they would heat up much like a spacecraft reentering the earth’s atmosphere. The resulting friction would cause the chain of reindeer to combust like the wick of a firecracker. Santa and his slay would be subjected to centrifugal forces 17,500 times greater than gravity causing him, the sleigh and all the toys to explode instantaneously.

Kind of like this but with more red and green.


Oh well. Who needs Santa Claus when we’ve got you Magic Internet. You always deliver the best presents. Like this:

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

On the fourth day of Jheepsmas some loser gave to me…

Now that your bed doesn’t smell like 15 hour old McGriddles, your special lady friend just might be in the mood to attempt relations.

Holiday File Photo: Relations.

So this is the perfect time to introduce gift number 4. The Rammstein Liebe Ist Fur Alle Da Boxset.

For the 99 to 100% of you that have forgotten who Rammstein is, here’s a refresher.

Hmm, why do I get the feel that living in Germany is like being trapped in a first year media-arts student film that never ends?

Yes, the Du Hast guys! They’re still making albums. And that’s not all they’re making as you can plainly see. Rammstein’s new album Liebe Ist Fur Alle Da (love Is For All) is available in a boxset that not only comes with a copy of the album but also a pair of industrial strength handcuffs (the only way they’re going to get someone to stay and listen to the whole thing) plus 6 dildos and lube. Love is for all indeed! Maybe they should have called the album Ganze Reihe Von Liebe.

No way! I’ll sue!

Oh da?! Well dat is mine Zeppelin. I make with the sue!

Alright, alright. We’ll keep it at Liebe Ist Fur Alle Da and no one will get sued. Even though I don’t think a ghost can sue a living person. I’m looking at you captain Pruss.

I successfully sued the makers of Road House 2.

Ok, everyone shut-up! No one’s even listening to you anyway. They’re all still staring at those dildos. And I know what you’re all wondering. The answer is, yep. All 6 dildos are modeled after the band members…

wait for it…

members. (Ta da!)

Could there be a sexier Christmas gift for your loved one? Just look at what you’re getting:

You’ve got lead singer Till Lindemann’s weiner.

Here he is dressed as some sort of cross between Elmer Fudd, the Tin Man and a Mime.

Lead guitar and backing vocals singer Richard Z. Kruspe’s schnitzel.

Here he is in a rare performance as the Little Drummer Boy in the Utah Alternative High School’s presentation of a Matrix Christmas.

Backing guitarist Paul H. Lander’s Lederhose.

Industrial Accustic?

And we’re only half way there! Make some room for:

Bass player Oliver Ollie Riedel’s hump lumber.

That’s a BIG diaper he’s wearing ladies! If you know what I mean. Wink. Wink.

Christopher Doom Schneider’s Drum Stick.

I’m sure there’s A Schneider’s hot dogs joke to be made here somewhere.

And don’t forget keyboardist Christian Flake Lorenz

What woman wouldn’t want a rubber replica of this man’s penis?

As you can see this box of pure hell is something special. And even after your lover is shocked and sickened opening it on Christmas morning it can be pushed away into the bottom of a cupboard to be discovered by your future children and grandchildren. The Rammstein Liebe Ist Fur Alle Da boxset has the power to disturb and horrify generation after generation. Still not convinced? How about another look at lead singer Till Lindemann.

This Christmas make love for everyone! And shame and confussion and revultion and embaressment…