MOAR BEARS! - RTOTD #875

Day 875

Here's some gifs of a guy playing with a motherfucking grizzly bear like I do with my dog. Except for the part where he tries to swallow my head. He's big but not big enough to pretend to swallow my head.

Now I want a fucking bear as a pet.

Here's some more gifs and pictures of bears being awesome and why I need one as a pet:


So I always have something to laugh about!

 

 

 To greet people when they come visit & provide a friendly first impression.

 

 

For home security. Who's going to fuck with a ninja bear?

A snowplow. My driveway is hard to use the snowblower on and I slip a lot when walking down it in the winter, so he can totally just plow the driveway for me, right?

When I've had a bad or long day at work and I just need a hug when I get home.

I'm About To Ruin Your Fucking Day - RTOTD #874

Day 874

I have a problem that's been bugging me for a while and it's getting worse.

ASPCA commercials.

Because they're getting to me more and more. And they're longer. And more depressing. And more... EVERYTHING.

It was bad enough when it was just Sarah McLachlan singing and making you feel horrible that you haven't adopted every dog at the local shelter. But that one only lasted for 45 seconds.

But now? Now it's a 3 minute long commercial with just some lady guilt-tripping you for being alive and not spending your entire day playing with dogs and giving them food.

I was sitting on the couch on Saturday, just watching some TV, when an ASPCA commercial came on that I was half-expecting to be yet another Sarah McLachlan commercial where she sings to pictures of sad dogs and bandaged cats, but this one was different.

It started with a woman just talking over video clips of the saddest dogs ever. And every word out of her mouth made you feel shittier and shittier about being a human being. About beaten dogs and being locked in a cage and left to die.

THE LADY FUCKING SAID THAT! "Locked in a cage to die"

I lasted 10 seconds before I had to get up and walk as calmly as possible over to the chair-and-a-half where Bailey was curled up in a ball, looking pathetic and unloved, and laid down to smother him with a hug.

His expression was of utter confusion. I mean, he does a damned good job of looking pathetic and unloved and basically giving you Bailey Face, but the second you give him attention, he's the happiest dog on the planet.

I then had to make my way around the house and hug the other 2 dogs for a good 20 seconds each.

It was then that it dawned on me: As long as there are ASPCA commercials on TV, I can never be without a dog. Because every single time one comes on the TV, I feel compelled to get up and hug the dogs. And if I didn't have a dog to hug, I would have to go and adopt all the dogs at the shelter just so that I had dogs to hug during ASPCA commercials.

That's their trick. They make you feel so horrible that you have an overwhelming compulsion to hug dogs. And if you don't have a dog to hug when their commercial hits your ears and eyes, then the overwhelming compulsion is to go get yourself a dog just so that you can hug it.

It took me about 2 minutes to get through all of the dog hugging and making my way around the house to make sure there was food and water and toys aplenty for the dogs to play with. I was finally starting to feel good about  myself again. Like I'd done my part in making absolutely sure that the dogs never felt like they were going to be left to die in a cage or beaten and neglected. Like I wasn't a completely horrible human being. And when I walked back into the living room...

THE FUCKING COMMERCIAL WAS STILL GOING!

I had to start all over. Their guilt-trip commercial got to me a 2nd time.

So yeah... I am really starting to hate these commercials because no matter how much I do to try to make sure I'm taking the best care of the dogs that I can, I feel like shit whenever these damn commercials come on.

Or just be always ready with a remote in hand to make sure I can change the channel FAST.

Bad Signals - RTOTD #873

Day 873

A Pimp is suing Nike because their shoes aren't labeled as  "dangerous if used to beat someone with". Because apparently he didn't realize that beating someone with them would cause injury.

I have so many words. So very very many words. But instead, let's go with a list of the best ridiculous warning labels. Because I can guarantee that that's funnier than discussing  whether Nike needs to label their shoes as "not beating implements" or "harmful to face if used to curb stomp" or some such bullshit. Because this shit is as fucking stupid as people that need to be constantly told that their coffee is hot. And it's awesome.


Was there a lot of this going on somewhere?



This is a roof antenna. Drunk people should not be on the roof.

WHO NEEDS TO BE TOLD THIS?!?!?!?!

Feel free to add your favorites as well.

Tire Fires of Nostalgia - RTOTD #872

Day 872

Man, I fucking miss Bugs Bunny and Roadrunner cartoons. And as much as I'd love to see new episodes, I know the kind of tire fire that some jackwagon producer at Time-Warner would turn them into. It would basically end up a somehow even shittier version of Space Jam and essentially rape my childhood and make me hate everything even more. Kinda like Man of Steel. Except worse. Like strange-sounding Muppets after Jim Hensen died.

I guess that's the thing with revisiting nostalgia stuff. You can't quite ever recapture that lightning in a bottle of the original. You can only really hope to get close, not fuck up too much, and keep hitting the "90% of the quality of the original" until it's just hackneyed and I am left writing too many fucking clichés to describe it.

So maybe I just need to go find some old-school Loony Tunes on Netflix or DVD or something and binge on that for a while. Except that fucking skunk. Because fuck Pepe Le Pew and all of France. And the rooster guy wasn't that funny either.

No Title - RTOTD #871

Day 871

Happy birthday to Me.
Happy birthday to Me.
I'm better than everybody,
Happy birthday to Me!

So now that I've got that out of the way...

Anyone wanna go to Cheerleader's next Wednesday night? I won the X's December Birthday thing where we get an open bar at the titty bar from 8-10 and free admission for myself and 9 friends.

So if you're interested, let me know. 3 spots are already spoken for. So 6 more people are welcome.

A Resolution - RTOTD #870

Day 870

As we approach the new year, let's all promise to make a group resolution this year. Instead of everyone making their own resolution that we promptly ignore about eating less fatty foods or quitting smoking or no more office drinking on Tuesdays or whatever, let's make a group resolution.

And I have the perfect one:

We whole-heartedly resolve to entirely ignore any celebrities with no discernible talent, who are famous for being famous or for being the children of famous people who only got anywhere because of who their parents were, or anything of the sort. We promise to ignore their television shows, be disaffected by their advertising presence, and otherwise save our money when presented with the opportunity to buy any product they are affiliated with in the hopes that it makes them all go away. We will not allow brand-building for no reason.

Because I'm still perfect otherwise.

This Is Not Wonderful - RTOTD #869

Day 869

21st Century Hollywood is out of ideas. I mean, we all know this. When's the last time we saw them make a GOOD original movie that wasn't obviously derivative of another movie or book. A new story that wasn't just an excuse for Roland Emmerich to blow up New York City or Washington, DC? Seriously... the guy makes nothing but disaster porn. Go check IMDB. But an actual original movie that's not complete schlock or looks like it was filmed in somebody's back yard on a Go Pro? Good luck finding one.

But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Hollywood's lack of imagination has given us the Superhero genre and Marvel movies making enough money to finance a revolution in a small island nation every few months. Though it did also give us the Twilight series. So it's obviously give-and-take.

But Hollywood has done some good work with sequels and remakes and adaptations of works of fiction over the years. So the premise that it needs to be an original story to be a good movie isn't right.

However, there's some rumor about a sequel to It's A Wonderful Life.

Honestly... I just kinda don't have anything funny to say about that other than it being an absolutely atrocious idea.

But since this might actually eventually maybe sorta happen, we should get ourselves ready for sequels to random classic movies. We've already seen the remake-of-a-classic-movie thing crash and burn. Because I guess Hollywood thought that if you could remake cult or just random movies from back in the day and turn them into franchises (I'm looking at you, Ocean's 9723498234 movies) then taking a classic movie and remaking it should be a license to print money. Obviously the rather atrocious Psycho remake from the 90's or 00's or whenever that was disproved that.

But now they're apparently thinking about just making sequels to them. Hell, Star Wars VII is coming out in like 2 years. And continuing the story from Jedi. So it's not entirely unheard of.

So in that vein, let's think of some awesome ideas for sequels to classic movies:

I'm going to go with A Christmas Story II. In this story, the kid from the first one is an adult and has his own kids. And an eye patch like Nick Fury. Except he has become a militia member and has his BB gun framed. And his kid wants a machine gun. And instead of a slide in the mall, there's a death chamber. And a 45 minute scene where his kid gets his ass cheeks stuck to the pole while having flashbacks to some trauma with his one-eyed dad. Or something fucking dumb like that. And there's a nuke somewhere. Because we can't not make it an action comedy. Because ticket sales.

*EDIT* - HOLD THE FUCK ON!!!! THERE WAS ALREADY A SEQUEL TO A CHRISTMAS STORY? HOW DID I NOT FUCKING KNOW THIS??????

Fine... call it a Christmas Story: The Next Generation. Or something. Fuck it. I give up on life.

Here You Go - RTOTD #868.1

Day 868.1

Here's a picture of a bear in a Lamborghini.

Because you probably didn't even know this happened.

So to follow that up, here's an ode to bears and their strange fascination with cars.

 

 

 

Scalpel - RTOT #868

Day 868

I generally don't like most people. I know this is a shocking revelation to you, right? Yeah. Sure. So when I do like someone, I generally consider them a friend. Or at bare minimum, someone that I don't actively dislike and they become part of the white noise in the background of my life. We all have these people. We just often don't think of them like that because it seems insulting, but really... that's all that they really are. They're the buffer zone between the people we like and everyone else. And for that reason, they're the white noise.

And when an of those relationships reach its inevitable expiration date, I simply cut it off with a scalpel, not entirely unlike a gangrenous limb. I cut it off. I move on. I give very little thought to it again with only a handful of exceptions and I generally feel little to no sense of loss. Maybe it's a personality disorder. Maybe it's a coping mechanism. Maybe I'm just too distracted or disaffected  or cynical to care about any sense of loss when it comes to interpersonal relationships, but I'm gonna go ahead and guess that that's probably a sign of said personality disorder. That's probably that whole sociopathy thing coming back out again.

But in the end, I harbor no ill will towards the limbs that I amputate. I look at them not unlike a rock on a beach. It's there. It doesn't matter to me. And I keep walking.

So when I see people that feel compelled to get angry at the rock or the dead limb that has already been amputated and is rotting away in a dumpster or something somewhere, I don't entirely understand it. Will yelling at it or talking too much about it make that limb somehow come back to life and reattach itself? Will that rock turn into something that matters with enough quiet sniping or venom or whispered comments? Will it even care?

Frankly, I just don't understand why relationships end and then somehow continue as something else more negative. Is it Newton's Law of Relationships instead of Motion or something where it has to require an opposite emotion when it's ended? I mean... I generally hate human beings as a whole, but I don't make that kind of effort to be a venomous jackwagon towards everyone unless there's a necessity.

Or unless I'll get some form of amusement out of it. But then again, I'm a dick. Not everyone is willing to admit that they're a sociopathic prick like me.

And yes, admitting it absolves me of any guilt or responsibility for anything I do or say in the past, present and future.

I was probably going somewhere with this, but I kinda stopped caring. Maybe that was the point though... things end & giving more time to it seems pointless.

Merry Marvel Movie-going Experience - RTOTD #867

Day 867

So I've gotta just make a public service announcement here. I'll get to it in a moment but I gotta explain why first.

So I saw Thor twice over the past weekend. Once on Friday night and once on Monday night (so I guess maybe it wasn't twice over the weekend but fucking whatever. Close enough) and in both cases, the theater was packed. The audience loved it. They laughed, they gasped, they cheered for Stan Lee's obligatory cameo. All-in-all, a typical Merry Marvel Movie-going Experience.

But when the credits hit, almost 1/3 of the theater got up and made their way to the exits. Most of them made it out the doors before being stopped. The mid-credits scene hit. A number of them stopped, as if having a moment of clarity for an Alzheimer's patient and thinking "oh yeah, Marvel does this, don't they?" and standing in the runway exit or at the bottom of the stairs, they stood and watched. And when it ended, they continued to make their way out.

I was flabbergasted. Yes, I just used that word in a non-ironic way. But these people just left. I could only shake my head.

A few noticed that other people still hadn't even made an attempt to move. They looked at us and paused and sat back down. They were having an epiphany. They conversed and waited but as the credit screen scrolled past the soundtrack credits and the thank-you to Technicolor for existing or whatever that shit is at the end, they looked up and then it happened. The post-credits scene. Because Marvel ALWAYS HAS A POST-CREDITS SCENE!

This was a movie that was filled with people that have most likely seen most or all of the previous Marvel movies. The new Thor movie is essentially the 3rd movie in a Thor trilogy with Thor and Avengers making up the other 2. So by now, the Marvel formula is pretty obvious to most of us. But for some reason, people still don't get it. And here's where we get to the public service announcement:

To everyone that ever goes to see a Marvel movie:  Look for the fattest bearded white guy you can see and don't get up until he does. Likely one with glasses and/or a comic book t-shirt on. They know when the movie is actually over. Trust them. Let them guide you. I know this is racist and probably fat-ist or whatever. And definitely a case of profiling. But guess what? The fat bearded white guy that looks like he hasn't ever gotten laid and is probably a geek knows when the comic book movie is over and when there's more to come still.

So just trust them. Do you really have anywhere else you REALLY need to be anyway?