Your library info is incredibly cool and helpful but I have a bit of a specific question. I kinda did badly in college and continue to do badly (less than 3.0 gpa) and have been completing it very slowly. I failed a few classes due to not doing the work while unmedicated. But archival work is one of the few things I can see myself loving to do. Do I have a chance for grad school, or even getting into it?

I’m sorry you’ve had that experience! That really stinks, and I’m impressed that you’re still working so hard to get past that with everything you’ve gone through. It says a lot about your character and work ethic (which can work to your advantage; see #1 below). 

I have to admit, I’m not positive how helpful I can be; I’m very bad at most things, but my one talent seems to be getting good grades, so I don’t have personal experience with maneuvering academic struggles. I’m also not an admissions rep, though I do work in a (community) college so maybe I’m a little more familiar than the average joe? And I did work for our grad school’s library/archives department, though I wasn’t exactly privy to their acceptance decisions because I was a glorified secretary, but . . . well, who knows? Take all of this with a grain of salt, because I’m a big dum-dum, but maybe something here will be helpful. 

Or maybe someone super smart will rb this with a ton of useful info. That’s the dream!

Also, a lot of this is coming from a Princeton Review article about literally this topic, if you want a less personal and meandering version of the below tips.

TL;DR Forest’s Non-Expert Recommendations for Grad School Without the Best GPA:

Acknowledge it in your communications with the school, and maybe even your application. They’re going to see those grades anyway, so it’s not like more context is a bad thing.

Take more classes, especially ones related to archives and records administration, and nail those.

Kick the GRE’s ass and give a really good application overall.

Experience! Related experience!!! 

Get to know the school you’re interested in -- and make sure they know you.

1. I’ll admit, based on a quick glance through some of the archival programs in the U.S., it does look like a 3.0 GPA is just about the baseline for admittance, which isn’t the best news. (Unless you manage to get a 3.0 by the time you graduate, in which case you’re pretty much good for most schools.) My suggestion there would be, whether or not you can bump your grades up with current and future classes, sharing some info -- to your level of comfort -- about your situation in your cover letter/application: acknowledge the grades issue, explain the reason, and illustrate how you’ve improved since then. Even if your final GPA isn’t all that high, it’ll prime the admissions folks to look at it with the understanding that you had a handicap. Your grades are a story over time, and I imagine if you can show improvement and draw their attention to that via a cover/recommendation letter(s), that could be really useful.

2. Obviously, the easiest answer -- to say, not to do! -- is just “get your grades up.” Which is . . . not terribly helpful. The good news there is that the more classes you ace the better your average will be, so if you can afford (literally, in time, money, or spoons) to take some extra courses, you can drag that score up. Especially if you focus on courses related to archives -- English, History, Political Science, Public Administration, Computer Science, Data Analysis, etc. -- and blast those to smithereens, it looks like it won’t necessarily matter as much if you didn’t nail, say, calculus or physics. 

3. That above linked post is . . . well, yes, it’s from Reddit, but it does seem pretty good overall. Another recommendation it mentions is to do really well on the GRE; I talked a little bit about the GRE in my last post, and you can get tons of practice tests and other study material on their site; when I took the test back in 2015, you got the study material for free when you signed up to take the exam, but I’m not sure what the situation is there nowadays. That test is a big bucket of not-fun, but I can almost guarantee any program you look at will want it. In addition to being required in most programs, a really impressive score can encourage admissions folks to overlook your grades. (Note: this is basically true for any part of your application. If your resume, cover letter, recommendations, test scores, etc. are particularly banging, it can overcome deficiencies in other areas.)

4. Girl (or boy, or both, or none of the above), if you can volunteer, intern, or work somewhere relevant, not only do have an awesome potential reference in your supervisor/coworkers, but it looks REALLY GOOD on an application. Obviously now’s not a great time for this, considering the whole pandemic thing, but as stuff starts to open take a look at museums, historical societies, and libraries in your area. See if anyone needs help. The more experience you have, the more you’ll have to talk about in your cover letter, the more you’ll have to make your resume stand out, and the more you’ll be prepared for the actual program and life beyond. I cannot recommend getting some volunteer experience (or paid work, if you can swing it) highly enough.

5. Like most of what’s available, this is a bit dependent on your spoons, time, and maybe even money, but the sooner you can develop a relationship with the folks in the archives school/department you’re interested in, the better. Email them with literally this question; they’ll have a much more informed and specific-to-their-program answer for you, and might have some good advice. Schedule a tour (again, prioritizing your safety and those around you). Ask for an interview with the department head or a faculty member. Call with your questions. Ask about classes you might be able to take outside of the actual program to improve your chances of acceptance. We had students in our program who took a certain number of credits as a non-degree student, and then transferred into the program on the strength of those earlier classes; they were usually people whose grades or test scores weren’t up to snuff, so they could get a start while preparing to apply to the degree program. And in general, if the people deciding whether or not you get to go to school there know your name, your face, and your story, your application is going to get a lot more -- and more generous -- consideration than if they don’t know you from a hole in the ground. If nothing else, you’ll get a lot more useable information than I can possibly give you, and you’ll learn more about the program and the field to better make a game plan for your future.

I hope some of this is helpful! I wish I could say you don’t have a bit of an uphill battle because a pretty significant weight is put on GPA. It’s understandable to an extent -- they want to make sure you’ll be able to handle the courseload before you start -- but it poses an extra challenge for people who are already in difficult circumstances. Definitely make sure you talk to your advisor and the academic folks at your current school as well; there’s a chance that they’ll have some advice or even access to some resources you weren’t aware of that’ll make your current grade situation improve.

Good luck! It sounds like this could be a great path for you, and even if you have to take a bit of a roundabout way to get there, that additional experience and time will help you be more prepared for just about anything ANY grad school program or job could throw at you. I believe in you, and I’m here if you need to ask, chat, or vent.

What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)

What stupid thing is trending now? Well…

It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.

First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.

The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.

I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.

Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”

I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.

It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”

Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.

That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.

Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.

This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.

Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.

So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.

Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.

It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.

Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.

There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.

It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”

This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.

Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.

Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017-2/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/182592126672

What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)

What stupid thing is trending now? Well…

It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.

First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.

The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.

I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.

Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”

I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.

It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”

Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.

That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.

Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.

This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.

Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.

So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.

Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.

It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.

Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.

There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.

It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”

This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.

Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.

Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017-2/

What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)

What stupid thing is trending now? Well…

It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.

First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.

The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.

I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.

Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”

I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.

It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”

Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.

That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.

Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.

This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.

Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.

So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.

Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.

It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.

Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.

There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.

It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”

This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.

Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.

Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017-2/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2019/02/05/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017-3/

What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)

What stupid thing is trending now? Well…

It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.

First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.

The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.

I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.

Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”

I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.

It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”

Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.

That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.

Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.

This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.

Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.

So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.

Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.

It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.

Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.

There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.

It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”

This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.

Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.

Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/176531947952

What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)

What stupid thing is trending now? Well…

It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.

First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.

The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.

I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.

Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”

I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.

It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”

Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.

That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.

Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.

This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.

Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.

So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.

Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.

It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.

Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.

There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.

It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”

This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.

Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.

Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/08/01/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017-2/

What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)

What stupid thing is trending now? Well…

It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.

First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.

The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.

I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.

Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”

I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.

It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”

Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.

That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.

Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.

This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.

Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.

So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.

Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.

It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.

Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.

There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.

It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”

This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.

Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.

Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/12/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9242017/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/168467925207

What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)

What stupid thing is trending now? Well…

It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.

First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.

The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.

I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.

Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”

I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.

It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”

Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.

That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.

Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.

This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.

Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.

So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.

Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.

It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.

Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.

There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.

It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”

This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.

Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.

Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/12/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9242017/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/12/12/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9-24-2017/

What Stupid Thing Is Trending Now? (9/24/2017)

What stupid thing is trending now? Well…

It’s unclear whether the jarring audio played during the emergency broadcast was a prank, or a bumbling intern who got “normal broadcast tone” with “alien apocalypse” mixed up. Either way, these broadcasts are no War of the Worlds in terms of quality. There are a few problems with the narrative that really need to be addressed.

First, there’s the alien plot arc, which honestly left me a bit underwhelmed. The script reads, “The space program made contact with… They are not what they claim to be. They have infiltrated a lot of, uh, a lot of aspects of military establishment, particularly Area 51. The disasters that are coming-the military-I’m sorry the government knows about them…” Aliens infiltrating the military is a solid premise, but one we’ve seen before. So there needs to be a bit of extra spice to really bring this hoax dish to life. Maybe the aliens look like human babies? Or it could turn out that we were the aliens all along? Just something a little extra. And I rolled my eyes at the “Area 51” comment. I mean really, do you think aliens would make a beeline for Area 51? No, their first steps would be to assume control of Tinder and the popular restaurant franchise Applebees. With the mating habits of the young, and the dining habits of the old squarely under their control, the aliens would be able to both stymy our ability to reproduce, and our ability to keep our elderly non-cranky and somewhat tolerable. We’d be doomed within hours.

The biblical apocalypse plot must also be addressed. First of all, you can’t just layer aliens and bible End Times on top of each other like some kind of misery parfait. You have to mix them together with skillful writing, such as “God was an alien all along.” Also you can’t just handwave the events of the apocalypse by saying, “in the last days extremely violent times will come.” That’s lazy writing. You’ve got to show, not tell, your audience. What kind of hell violence is this exactly? Everyone’s skin is now fire? Our skeletons come out of our bodies and attack us? You’ve got to use details to paint a scene. So the next time you startle Californians with hoax emergency broadcasts, put some effort into your art. And if you really want to scare Californians, tell us the end times means drought, and drought means no avocados.

I’m not some sort of fancy “historian.” But I’m almost 80% sure that Yoda did not meet with King Faisal at the UN. Maybe he’s be willing to chat foreign policy in some kind of foggy swamp area, but not the UN. That’s not Yoda’s scene at all. The man (alien?) can’t even stand to wear anything but the lone bathrobe in his possession, the one with all the cream of wheat stains. He’s an old, cranky, green retiree. He gave up being on the Jedi council just so he didn’t have to deal with the long speeches and underwhelming cafeteria food. Why would he come out of retirement just to sit and list to more long, boring speeches, when he could be giving whiny Jedi vague, indirect lessons? Also, I think Yoda died at some point or something, so that would make it hard to get in to the UN.

Maybe the editors of this textbook mistook Yoda for Alan Greenspan. But even then, why would Alan Greenspan be at the UN? He’s also a retiree who only hangs out in foggy swamps and gives indirect advice to young economists. “Adjust interest rates to all-time lows, you shall.”

I’m as big a fan of learning new vocab as any other pretentious dweeb. For instance, did you know “borborygmus” means that rumbling noise in your stomach (and it’s also probably a Pokemon)? But there’s a time and a place for everything. As president Trump and Kim Jong Un trade insults, it feels as if we creep ever closer to military escalation. Which really makes me want to borborygmus in my pants. But despite our perilous situation, the one fact we took away from all this was that Kim Jong Un used a funny word, “dotard,” which means “old an senile,” and is also probably a Pokemon.

It’s great we’re learning new vocabulary, but even the fanciest GRE words aren’t going to do much for us once we’re all a smoldering piles of ash. Here’s a neat word: internecine, which means “destruction on both sides of a conflict,” and used in a sentence is, “The potential internecine war between the U.S and North Korea means everyone is super duper boned.”

Money is objectively disgusting. And not just in the sense that greed is the root of all evil: the paper money itself is covered in inconceivable amounts of filth. It’s honestly better not to think about where your money has been, whose nose it’s been up to vacuum cocaine, whose g-string it’s been tucked into, what rich person has used it to wipe their ass while laughing about the poors. The only way our monetary system can go on is to maintain a flimsy veneer of willful ignorance about the dark places and unspeakable stygian horrors our paper bills have gone through.

That’s what makes the story of this liquor store’s problems all the more harrowing. Instead of using pockets, purses, or a folksy bindle, some customers insisted upon storing their cash in the sweaty crevices of their body. It’s an unspeakable crime against the social contract to reach into the dank recesses of your own body to fish out a slightly moist bill, and to hand that into the trembling hand of a hapless cashier. And as soon as one of these customers goes, “Oh hang on, I think I have exact change in my butt crack,” the cashier will let out a primal scream, the carefully maintained illusion of civil money will crumble, and all of society will soon follow.

Oh come on, what barely visible smudge in the background of a cartoon are parents complaining about now– oh. Oh dear. That is actually very clearly a drawing of a penis. And Snopes has confirmed it.

This was clearly done by the hands of a very disgruntled animator/texture artist. Day after day of slaving away in the animation mines has probably turned the culprit into a hardened, bitter individual, with no other tools to fight back against his corporate overlords but a pen and a vague understanding of what a penis looks like. Or perhaps this required the cooperation of multiple animators and graphic designers, who staged a coup in the only way they knew how. “Help, we’re being held for days on end while we must carefully render all these goddamn stupid cartoon bees,” would probably not get past QC, but a subtle penis would. This isn’t just any dick. This is a cry for help.

Have you ever seen an exposed, hairy man belly in public and thought to yourself, “If only I could surgically remove his gut and sew it into a pouch that can be used to hold my iPhone and keys?” First let me say, getting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of these days. Secondly, you need wish no more! You can now buy mass produced hairy man belly fanny packs. They come in a variety of flavors: first off, there’s “The Allen,” a tasteful, vanilla version that has a modest amount of hair and protrusion. “The Derek” is similar to “The Allen,” except it acknowledges that “pasty white” isn’t the only existing skin tone. “The Bobby” is completely hairless, somehow placing it squarely in the uncanny valley of beer bellies. In contrast, “The Sherman” is thickly forested with coarse, bear-like hair that surrounds a yawning abyssal belly button. “The Magnus” is a photoshopped cascade of belly folds that seem anatomically improbable.

So if you’d like to attain the mystical aura that is the “dad bod,” slap on one of these beauties. As an added bonus, you’ll have a handy pouch to store all the phone numbers you’re totally going to collect while wearing these.

Finally, a victory for the common man. If FedEx says they’ll do overnight delivery, and you trust in them that they’ll honor what they advertise and deliver your horse sperm to your doorstep within a timely manner, it’s critical that the courts hold them to their word. FedEx tried to weasel their way out of their sticky legal situation by arguing the fine print clarified they made no guarantee of overnight delivery, even though it’s called “priority overnight,” with a slogan of, “When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.” And that promise is important when you order horse sperm.

It’s not like horse sperm grows on trees. High quality horse sperm does not run cheap, and you don’t want to impregnate your mare with low-grade budget horse sperm. You can’t hop down to Costco and get plus-sized gallons of horse sperm for $25, and black market horse sperm is often cut with glass and encourages cartels. So for many buyers of horse sperm, delivery is the only option. And by god, if you pay for your horse sperm to be delivered overnight, you should get that horse sperm delivered overnight.

Sure, you might be thinking, “Well I never have needed nor can see any possible reason I will ever need horse sperm delivered to me overnight,” but this court decision affects us all (as long as you happen to live in Nova Scotia, Canada). This is a win for the consumer, whether you’re trying to get priority shipping on a gift for your grandma, or a pint of fresh horse sperm.

There are many, ordinary reasons you might poop in someone’s yard. You could be drunk, there may be no public restrooms, you could have eaten 2 pounds of prunes, or you might be cosplaying as a dog. What makes this story so compelling is that none of these reasons seem to apply to the jogger serial-pooping in residents’ yards. The woman doesn’t appear to be mentally ill or unable to access public restrooms, and her actions seem calculated. She brings toilet paper and poops at the same houses, and shifts her schedule based on when she’s been caught in the act. It seems too coldly premeditated to be a result of a gastrointestinal medical issue. And when she is confronted she apologizes, but never stops, nor cleans up after herself.

It’s a crime spree that seems completely unsolvable. You could tie heroin to the end of a stick and set Sherlock to work, and he’d come away defeated. Is there a personal vendetta involved? Has this jogger finally snapped after dog owners have left countless poops in her yard? Perhaps she’s living by the timeless adage, “When life hands you lemons, you eat those lemons, turn them into poop, and leave those poops on the yards of the innocent.”

This is one of those cases where we just have to accept we’ll never know the definitive answer. Like the Chupacabra or Bigfoot, she will forever capture our imaginations, but we will never capture her.

Photoshop is like a hammer. When used delicately, it can be used to construct beautiful cabinets. But when abused it can pulverize a human body. In this instance, the Tomb Raider poster has been Photoshopped with such wanton abandon, Lara Croft’s neck has gained altitude and flexibility not found in the normal range of human anatomy. Due to this graphic designer’s overabundance of enthusiasm, the writers of the movie will have to change the plot to Lara Croft mixing her DNA with that of a giraffe and an owl, thus becoming the greatest artifact hunter in the history of archaeology.

Can’t see above a pile of rubble? No problem for Lara Giraowlff, she can use her seven extra vertebra to peer over obstacles like a periscope. Are there bad guys trying to ambush the protagonists? Lara Giraowlff’s uncannily perceptive hearing can pick up the sound of a mouse scurrying a mile away, she can definitely hear human footsteps. She can then swivel her head like a lazy Susan, much to the horror of anyone trying to sneak up behind her. “Hoo’s there?” she quips, before unloading her pistols into the body of some hapless henchman, her unblinking owl-giraffe hybrid eyes cold and uncaring as she watches the corpse fall to the ground. This remake is going to be awesome.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/12/what-stupid-thing-is-trending-now-9242017/