14 posts tagged “humor”

In case you haven't heard the news, MLB star and total jerk Roger Clemens is a dirty effing pervert. In all honesty, it is a (not-so) well kept secret in professional sports that the wives of the athletes turn the other cheek to their husbands' cheating habits presumably in order to ensure said cheek rests on a pillow made of fine jewels and cold hard cash. Still, this couldn't have happened to a more deserving man. In a span of 48 hours, the former Cy Young

Award winner has been linked to a country singer, a real estate agent, and the ex-wife of pro golfer John Daly. It's a toss up as to which story is more ridiculous. On one hand, you have the fact that Clemens allegedly started his relationship with country singer McCready when she was just 15 years old, which immediately solidifies his redneck status, but the question on all of our minds is "are they related?" You would think that this story is easily the run away winner and you would be dead wrong. Just as interesting is his alleged tryst with John Daly's ex. Sleeping with her sets the stage for an inevitable celebrity boxing bout that will be dubbed "The Fallen Rocket vs The Loose Cannon". However, the way both of these men's careers are going, they may have to resuscitate the Bum Fights franchise just to get the damn thing on the air. The most intriguing aspect of this hilarious turn of events is the sheer rate at which these women are coming forward. If they can keep this pace, it'll only take 8 years for the amount of times Clemens hasn't "struck out" to surpass the tally of times he has struck someone else out (over 4700).

I think it's time for me to get in on the ground floor and do a little expose of my own on the Rocket. I worked tirelessy for maybe 25 minutes and assembled this timeline of Roger Clemens'"extracurricular" activities...

"Rocket" Roger Clemens Extracurricular Time Line

March 1983: Clemens chooses the #21 as a reminder to himself of the maximum age limit for girls he will sleep with.

May 1984: Celebrates MLB debut alone at a Boston-area Chuck-E-Cheese.

Fall 1986: Publicly declares his switch from "thrower" to "pitcher" and admits that the change has nothing at all to do with baseball.

August 1991: Clemens spends the entirety of his salary for that year on gifts for various "nephews" scattered across North America and parts of Cancun, Mexico.

1993-1996: Pitching production dips coinciding with an infidelity production surge.

June 1997: Teammate and fellow cheater Ed Sprague walks in on the Rocket doing steriods off the small of Brian Mcnamee's back.

Winter 1998: Defeats pro golfer John Daly in an arm wrestling match earning himself the right to sleep with Daly's then-wife as set out in the provisions of Redneck law.

June 2000: Becomes the first MLB player to ever be part of 3 grand slams in a single day after giving one up to Mike Piazza, having sweaty sex with a fat girl, and then capping off the night at a Denny's restaurant.

Spring 2003: Although never aired, Clemens submits his own cut of the Armour Hot Dog commercials consisting only of him, a 12-pack of frozen Armours, and the whole Dallas Cowboys Cheerleading team.

September 2003: Retires from cheating on his wife and walks away from an impressive 20 year career of being unfaithful.

January 2004: Makes the decision to return to cheating on his wife as long as it allows him to be closer to his family.

Okay, I'll admit that some (or all) of this may be speculation (or flat out imagined) but you know what is true? You will tell people about my blog. Oh and obviously the first part about the cheating with people's ex-wives and underage girls was incredibly true, I was just talking about the time line part.

What if the nicknames of sports teams were a true reflection of the team and/or its players? I present to you, last night's highlights in the world of Fake Literal Sports...

New Jersey Devils (NHL) vs. Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim  (MLB)

This was a classic battle of good versus evil. Young center field prospect Jesus Christ turned in an MVP-like performance correctly pronouncing infielder Maicer Izturis' name an astounding two times, which the Angels' color commentator emphatically declared a "goddamned miracle".  However, in the end, the Devils locked up an easy victory...seemingly too easy in fact. Angels’ manager Mike Scoscia later admitted in a post game interview that he had sold his soul to the Devils' owner, Satan himself, for his career .259 batting average and a guaranteed spot in the Italian Baseball Hall of Fame. Joe DiMaggio and Tommy Lasorda, both long deceased, were on hand in spirit as the only other members.

Washington Nationals (MLB) vs. Washington Redskins  (NFL)

This historical battle played out in front of an abnormally small crowd as most scalpers had died off in the hours preceding the match. Led into Mayflower Sports Complex by star lefty Grain Alcohol, the Nationals came out absolutely gunning. Reliable catcher Small Pox blanketed the Redskins' offense. The energy in the building was contagious throughout the night as the home team literally raped and pillaged the opposition. The Redskins put up a valiant effort but in all honesty, it was like they brought a bow and arrow to a gun fight. The Nationals now look to their next opponents, the Cleveland Indians, as they continue their Manifest Destiny road trip to the west coast.

Notre Dame Fighting Irish (NCAA) vs. Montreal Canadiens (NHL)

The visiting Fighting Irish were forced to forego their pregame ritual of pounding whisky shots and beating their kids when the host Canadiens stocked the away dressing room with only red wine and orange soda. The game started out as planned with the Irish coming out swinging while the French Canadian side organized a referendum to separate itself from sports entirely. The Fighting Irish sealed the victory when the Canadiens decided to return to their French roots and concede the battle well before their loss was sure.

Utah Jazz (NBA) vs. Minnesota Wild (NHL) vs. Orlando Magic (NBA) vs. Cleveland Browns (NFL)

All 4 of these teams brought a ton of intangibles to the table due in large part to fact that they are, by name, intangible. This epic sport event was the first of it's kind to charge fans admission to an empty arena in which they sat and imagined what it would be like for a dark art, bland color, music, and...uhh...I guess a span of forestry to all collide in brutal competition. Each being versatile enough to cover the noun and adjective categories of grammar, these teams matched up well against each other. I would like to think that the Magic 'pulled' a victory out of their 'hat', but in the end the winner was really just up to your imagination. Picture Miles Davis VS David Copperfield VS Your Dad's Recliner VS A Tree (?). Intense.

Philadelphia 76'ers (NBA) vs. San Francisco 49'ers  (NFL)

This one came down to the numbers. Heavy favorite, the 76'ers, were surprised to be informed that this wasn't a "higher number wins" competition. In the end, the fans were disappointed to learn that they were all a small part of a more elaborate game of "pick a number" in which neither 76 nor 49 was chosen. In an attempt to salvage the experience, the second parts of each number got together to excite and arouse the crowd. Everyone left satisfied.

Chicago White Sox (MLB) vs. Boston Red Sox (MLB)

This event took place in the fabled Top Drawer of Your Armoire Stadium along the Leaking Furnace River in picturesque The Basement, Your Mom's Place. The cold fact that it's not Christmas season put the Red Sox at an immediate disadvantage. Then when your father came down and demanded that you mow the lawn, the White Sox triumph was all but in the bag. In a sudden twist of events, you stubbed your heel on your hamster cage and turned to the underdog Red Sox to conceal the "boo boo juice" from the prying eyes of MILF joggers passing by. Defying an almost 15-1 player disadvantage (star White Sock, Hanes FruitLoom, has been missing since laundry day Wednesday), the Red Sox victory went down as one of the biggest upsets in fake sports history.

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As always, tell your friends about my blog.

We're all probably going to hell; some of us more surely than others...

"A Florida teenager is facing a charge of elder abuse after he allegedly made his senile grandmother wear a black mask and hold a hand gun for a video.
Police say the 85-year-old woman is seen and heard on the video threatening to "shoot all the pigs." Michael Alfinez, 18, was arrested Monday."
         - The Associated Press

I'm surprised it took this long. I cannot count the number of times I've been watching a viral video and wondered, "how fake is this?". We are all officially going to hell and we'll be ushered into the crimson barren land by Michael Alfinez, 18, of good old Florida, USA. The biggest question for me is....why, in the land of senile old people where you can't cross the street without being run down by a foggy minded 80-something, would this superstar choose his own grandmother? Aren't there like uh services or something down there where you can rent old people to exploit? I guess his video had a tight budget and he had to make do with what was available. In all seriousness, this is why viral videos should be left to to the professionals like Tay Zonday and Japanese television.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Will Ferrell could be dead right now. Think about that.

"The grizzly bear that wrestled Will Ferrell's character in the recent film "Semi-Pro" seemed to obediently follow cues - which made its killing of its trainer with a bite to the neck all the more stunning."

-The Associated Press

Actor Will Ferrell should be counting his lucky stars today after narrowly escaping the grim grizzly

reaper. What a broad struck of luck it is that someone as loud and abrasive as Ferrell could somehow outperform a professional trainer in the sport of not being murdered by a massive bear. We now go to Brian Fantana who's live on the scene at Jellystone Correctional Facility For Bears...

    "I tried to get an interview with him, but they said no, you can't do that         he's a live bear, he will literally rip your face off."

Thanks, Brian!

Remember to tell your home boys about my blog.

Ever since I was little and predicted young Drew Barrymore's descent into child acting alcoholism and drug abuse, I've known that I had a unique talent. I made a promise to a mysterious monk that I would never call upon those powers again. But fuck it, that douche has been living in my apartment for the past 4 years and hasn't offered up rent once. So, 20 years later, here I am trying to source those powers after all this time. I'll do my best...

The Kid: Apple Paltrow-Martin
The Parents: Gwenyth Paltrow and a poor man's Thom Yorke
Recipe For Disaster:
1 cup of Bad Acting
2 pinches of self righteousness
1 litre of "Yellllllooooooooowwwww"
Future Endeavors: Apple will snub her parents' encouragement to become a triple threat entertainment star (Acting, Singing, Alcoholism) and settle for a modest life of working in a supermarket produce section. When her trust fund money runs thin, she will turn to affixing the trademark symbol to her name and marketing the new iGiveUp touch screen suicide machine.
Cause of Eventual Death: Eaten by a health conscious cannibal.

 

The Kid: Zoie Laurel May Herpin
The Parents: Stephanie from Full House and Cody Herpin
Recipe For Disaster:
2 Tbsp of Sexually Ambiguous First Names
1 Pinch of Brief Child Stardom
3 Handfuls of Uncle Jessie
Future Endeavors: Zoie will deal with the ups and downs of living with father Cody's brother-in-law and best friend. She will get into quirky situations that always seem to resolve themselves by the end of each episode. The heart felt background music will eventually invade her dreams and consequently drive her mad. She will move out of the house at 18 to pursue a porno acting career. Ironically, the first movie she will star in will be a graphic gang bang film entitled: "Full House".
Cause of Eventual Death: A methamphetamine lab explosion causes her untimely death while simultaneously ruining the family business.

The Kid: Yet To Be Hilariously Named
The Parents: Jessica Simpson's less attractive sister and some emo guy from some emo band
Recipe For Disaster:
Equal Parts Angst, Anxiety, Anger, and Alliteration
Future Endeavors: By far the most stylish kid at school, this emo love child will be told repeatedly they look like their father regardless of what gender they turn out to be. They will be exposed while hosting Saturday Night Live to go down in history as the first person to ever be caught wrist-slit-synching.
Cause of Eventual Death: Is there really any doubt? Joe Simpson murder-suicide, obviously.

The Kid: Liam Aaron McDermott
The Parents: The annoying broad from 90210 and Dean McDermott, Canadian Actor
Recipe For Disaster:
3 Shakes of Silicone Polluted Breast Milk
1 Too Many "Uncles" Who Never Seem To Buy You Birthday Presents
3 Dashes of flat-out child neglect
Future Endeavors: Will realize at age four that he is more mature than his mother. By age nine, questions will arise about why all the other kids have "human mommies" and he has a "horse mommy". Will quit a childhood acting career to go to high school only to be faced with an adverse situation subsequently coming dangerously close to not graduating. Jason Priestly, still working on passing Grade 11 Gym, will rally the whole school behind his cause.
Cause of Eventual Death: Will break a leg in the big race leaving his trainers with no other choice but to shoot him in the face with a rifle.

The Kid: Nahla Ariela Aubry
The Parents: Halle Berry and some French-Canadian Super Model
Recipe For Disaster:
2 gorgeous helpings of juicy tit
4 cups of poutine
Countless nightmarish recalls of mom getting down with Billy Bob Thornton
Future Endeavors: Accepts $500,000 per breast from Gerber Foods Corp to appear topless in a baby food ad.
Cause of Eventual Death: After working his way back into Halle's life, David Justice demonstrates that he's "still got it" by knocking the kid's head RIGHT OUTTA THE (nearby neighbourhood) PARK!!!

The Kid: Marquez Anthony Caruso
The Parents: David Caruso (you know...that fucker from CSI: Miami) and Liza Marquez
Recipe For Disaster:
1 million strands of red hair
4 failed attempts at genuine acting
1 so-so looking mom
Future Endeavors: At an early age, Marquez developes obsessive compulsive sunglasses disorder. Cannot start any day without a quick blast of the intro to "Won't Get Foooled Again" by The Who. Eventually goes on to star in CSI's 16th iteration: CSI: Robert Downy Junior's Apartment.
Cause of Eventual Death: A mysterious murder where you think its gonna be the first guy they bring in, but then it turns out it isn't, but then in the end...IT ACTUALLY WAS!

 

Call all the babies you know and tell them to read my blog.

 

Attn: Martin Lawrence
Re: Not Being Funny

Something needs to be said. I'm calling you out Martin Lawrence. You have made 20 million dollars for two movies in the past, plus over 10 million in a few others. This has got to stop right now. Twenty million dollars is a lot of money. Do you think you've earned it? It needs to be brought to your attention that you are not funny. Not even a tiny bit. You weren't funny in the past, and even your past isn't funny. There is nothing funny about you. Your dog isn't funny, your face isn't funny. You are a plain average guy. You were born in Germany. There is nothing funny about Germany. Maybe your stand up comedy was funny, but based on your recent performances, why would I even give it a chance? You lost that right when you made Wild Hogs.

Wild Hogs. It's not enough that you're horrible at comedy, but you have to involve others in it? At first it didn't matter because you seemingly played every character on your God-awful television show, but now you're dragging other people down with you. First you manage to rope some decent actors (sort of) into doing Wild Hogs. Granted, John Travolta has always made bad choices; retorting with the old school comeback of "look who's talking" becomes far too literal when used on him. Tim Allen is a mess and he always has been. I could list all the reasons why, but who gives a shit? It's Tim Allen. William H. Macy, though? The same guy from The Cooler, Pleasantville, and Fargo? He signed up for Wild Hogs? You digust me, Martin Lawrence. I don't care if it's your fault. I'm making it your fault.

Why am I making it your fault? Three words. Big. Mama's. House. Yes, Eddie Murphy put on a bunch of costumes to play the characters in his Nutty Professor franchise, but  he's actually funny and even he didn't really pull it off. Mike Myers did it a few years later and again, due to being funny, he sort of made it work. Then you attempt it. You're the third man in on a comedic gag and the best you can do is Big Momma's House? It's ridiculous and not just because no one wants to picture you as a fat old woman. There's many other reasons. Namely, it not being funny at all. I remember 2006 like it was yesterday. It had taken me ages to shake off the horror of it all. I was just recovering from the sheer torture of Big Mama's House; a pain that can only be compared to being bum raped by an iodine squirting longsword. Then some how, some way, the unfathomable happened. A team of (supposedly) highly capable studio executives sat around, what I imagine to be a massive table made entirely of rhinocerus ivory, and agreed that a sequel to Big Momma's House was a great idea. I assume afterwords they ate koala heads drizzled in bald eagle blood and laughed like villains. What the fuck, Hollywood? We pump our hard earned dollars into your pockets so you can buy your diamond encrusted tennis shorts and snake skin jet ski upholstery and how do you repay us? With Big Momma's House 2. With National Security. With Black Knight.

Now you've bestowed another gift upon us: College Road Trip. Hmm, how can we make Martin Lawrence even funnier?!? According to studio executives, the answer is goddamn obvious...pair him up with Donny Osmond. Just when you think life can't get any crazier, you wake up and realize that Martin Lawrence and Donny Osmond have joined forces to create the end of the world. To be completely frank, I'd rather not live in a world where people like Martin Lawrence and Donny Osmond get paid money to assault my spirit. Fuck you, Donny Osmond. Man, I don't get to say that often enough.

HEY MARTIN! Remember when you ruined the only episode of Saturday Night Live that you ever hosted? That was good times. C'mon Martin, you remember, right? You repeatedly swore and improvised your lines. You made an ass out of yourself and were probably intoxicated. Is this ringing a bell at all? It resulted in you being awarded a lifetime ban from hosting SNL. Yeah you remember. Quit pretending you were too hopped up on drugs, booze, and hookers to recall. Just for the record, you improvising SNL lines is like Hellen Keller improvising brain surgery. I'm just saying...sometimes things are better left in more appropriate hands.

The only glimmer in your career was Bad Boys, but you basically shit all over the damn thing and waited for Will Smith to clean it up. Twice. For a talent like Will Smith, a movie like Bad Boys was a springboard to better roles and more exposure. For you, it was a chance to act on camera like you do off camera. Loud, abrasive, and making desperate attempts at comedy. You were home. I'll admit it was cool to see TV actors swear and get into adult situations that didn't involve sneaking out past 9 pm to go to a pool hall, but that wore off after about 5 minutes of having to listen to your voice and see your face. GOD. You are so unfunny. Martin, I'm seriously not fibbing.

If you don't believe me, let's go over the numbers. You're 0% at the Teen Choice Awards and the MTV Movie Awards (anyone can win those, I won one this morning for best toilet shit in a supporting bowel movement). The truth is, I'm shocked that you were even nominated. Congrats. I thought for sure you were going to win Film-Wipeout Scene of the Summer in 2000. I was floored when you couldn't snag an award, which seemed so specific that it may have been made simply in order for you to win it. How many wipeout scenes do you think ocurred that summer on film? You continue to defy the odds. A master of chance.

I hope that this has been an awakening for you. Your sordid past of racism, sexual harassment, and drug abuse was tolerable. It's your career that is really offensive. Stop it now. Go back to doing whatever it was you were doing in that period after you lost your TV show to your lifelong battle with being a total asshole. Honestly, we all enjoyed the break.

    Signed,
      Everyone

Now I know somewhere Dane Cook is celebrating in a very loud and animated way. Well guess what Dane? I wouldn't party too hard just yet, you joke stealing hack. You could very well be next. 

If you had one month to live, what five things would you do?
Suggested by Acerebel.

I'll begin by asking the Question of the Day a question...How many bullets do I have in my gun?

But seriously...

1. I don't really tell anyone I love them ever. I guess it would be a good time to start doing that. I do, however, tell people all the time that I hate them. That would remain unchanged.

2. I would go sky diving and probably shit my pants because I'm deathly afraid of heights. I'd also shit my pants bungee jumping, base jumping, and going on all the roller coasters I refused to ride all these years. Basically, I'd be looking to do anything that would cause me to shit my pants.

3. I would write a screenplay. I would write a book. I would write on bathroom stalls. I would write on babies foreheads. I would write and write and write.

4. I would shoot George Bush in the dick, wait five minutes, then shoot him in the dick again. Not because I want to be some sort of political martyr. Mainly because I think it would be hilarious.

5. I hope the disease that's killing me isn't communicable because I would be on a sex rampage.

Look we all probably use MSN Messenger. At least most of us do, and those of us who have the pleasure of dealing with the odds and ends of instant messaging could easily name a few quirks that some users exhibit which thoroughly annoy us.

Allow me to introduce to you, hailing from places spanning the globe, a group of individuals that has been rocking the sport of instant messaging since day 1. Without further ado, I present a team that needs no introduction, YOUR...

The Player: MSN Ninja
The Skills: A notorious slacker in practice, this MSN veteran doesn't take the game seriously anymore. Their lack of consistency prevents them from operating on an acceptable level and this is reflected in their constant omission from any important team conversations. This player pops in and out of online status and has the uncanny ability to vanish at any given point during a conversation. This is usually a function of wireless internet...or years of kung fu training. Normally the Ninja will wait until they are engaged in an important conversation with you then disappear faster than a fatty's self-esteem.
Special Move: Going offline just as you are putting the finishing touches on typing a max-out length message, of great importance, to them.
Common MSN Names: "Had a great weeken", "GAHHHHHHHH, I hate wirele"
How To Play D: Buy the MSN Ninja an ethernet cable and help them hard line their CPU to their router or hope you can convince a Pirate to lend you a hand.

The Player: MSN Paradox
The Skills: While always being present at all team functions, this MSN player always seems to have "checked out". They have no grasp of the fundamentals, and the frailty of their mental awareness makes them a chronic liability. The MSN Paradox relies on a solid game of being online all the time yet never responding to any messages. This superstar is always accessible yet never responsive and that's just the way they like it. They are most likely your mom.
Special Move: RSVP'ing to your birthday party 6 Wednesdays after the party has occurred.
Common MSN Names: "Whoooo, Happy New Years everyone! 2005 is gonna be THE SHIT!!!", "Florida screwed Gore!"
How To Play D: Isolation and ignorance is the name of the game. Create an MSN group on your list called "People I Should Never Message" and stick them right at the top.

The Player: MSN Fonzie
The Skills: Flashy, frivilous, and a total dick...MSN Fonzie is the quintessential marquee player. His diva-eqsue actions are always calling his heart into question. To him, simply getting the job done is not enough. Fonzie's ultimate goal is to get the job done while alienating everyone around him. This MSN superstar is all about keeping up appearances.They are far too cool to be on MSN. Since no one ever calls them, they are forced to go on MSN in order to connect with people who secretly (but most likely puclicly) dislike them. MSN Fonzie will often have an excuse for being on "this piece of shit program", and it will always be neither credible or relevant.
Special Move: Criticizing you via MSN for being a "lame-o MSN user, bro"
Common MSN Names: "MSN IS GHEY!!!11", "Yo, just signing on to see were we geting crunkizzle tonizzle"
How To Play D: Just having this person on your MSN list is an indication that you may be in too deep. It's best to just roll with the punches and play the numbers. He won't be online too often and when he is, it won't be for long. You'll just have to play through the discomfort and hope it goes away as quickly as possible. Much like diarhea.


The Player: MSN NYSE Stock Ticker
The Skills: This player is a hard worker with a lot of character. Their game can be summed up in one word: dedication. They just go out there and enjoy themselves while giving a hundred and ten percent, 3000% of the time. The MSN Ticker is constantly working on their next MSN name. To this player, when it comes to names, anything goes. No one is safe. Nothing is sacred. By having this person on your list, you will never be out of touch with current events; both their own and the world's. Celebrity deaths, who's selling their car, how many corn chunks were in their poop, what was #1 on Letterman's last top ten list, why 911 was a hoax. It's all there for the world to see and the MSN Ticker is more than happy to provide up to minute news on literally everything.
Special Move: Somehow knowing and noting what kind of underwear you put on this morning. (Yep..a velvet thong. You're fucking sick, dude)
Common MSN Names: "My hamster is currently eating unsalted sun flower seeds using his hands and mouth. He is in his cage and his current mood is hungry.", "Walmart greeters are inconsistent. Some say due to age. Others say stupidity."
How To Play D: Look, as long as the planet is spinning on its axis, this player isn't going anywhere and you can't make them. This is a run out the clock situation. Eventually one of two things will happen: they will actually set their MSN name to something truly notable and you will congratulate yourself for hanging in there, or they will find another medium with which they can convey their thoughts and reports on planet everything.

The Player: MSN Doppelganger
The Skills: Shrouded in mystery, the MSN Doppelganger is almost always a player to be named later. Their versatility causes more confusion than benefits. They're often unable to be found when it matters the most. This player refuses to use their given name, last name, or relevant nickname in any part of their msn profile. Finding them on your MSN when you actually need to talk to them becomes extremely difficult. Their e-mail handle always produces foggy results and resembles them in no way whatsoever. This player gets off on the knowledge that finding them on your list is like participating in a wacky Korean game show.
Special Move: Being mistaken for someone else on your list and gaining crucial information about you in the process, which will presumably be used in further strengthening their propensity to confuse and bewilder.
Common MSN Names: "I am 'The One'", "I have eyes and frequently wear shirts"
How To Play D: Spend three weeks surveilling their instant messaging activities. When you're absolutely certain that you have identified them, right click on their name, choose "Edit Contact" and type the following into the "Nickname" field..."Cocksucking Doppelganger". From then on, not only will you know who they are, you'll also know exactly what they are all about.

The Player: MSN Backbone
The Skills: A franchise player in every sense of the word. This player is the pillar of Team MSN. What they lack in flair and personality, they make up for with their sheer willingless to participate. This player relies on work ethic and hustle to get by. The MSN Backbone is online and ready to talk at every moment of the day. They do not screw around with the politics of msn status and image. They pride themselves on playing the right way. Often, this person is a massive loser, albeit a loveable one.
Special Move: Helping you finish your overdue essay at 6 am...on a Saturday...stone cold sober.
Common MSN Names: "[First and Last Name typed out in regular characters]"
How To Play D: Look, you're going to want this person on your side. The MSN Backbone is worth their weight in heroin and don't you ever forget it. Playing D against Backbone would be like playing D against a delectable ham and cheese sandwich. Some forces aren't meant to be stopped.

Please feel free to leave comments about which MSN All Star you are and other All Stars that I may have missed. Also, don't forget to let all the MSN haters in your life know about this article.

Finally, I'd like to take time to dedicate the inconsistent spacing in this post, and all of my past posts, to the crack programming team here at Vox. Way to keep us guessing, boys!

So let's talk emo. Today I'd like to take a few minutes out of my day to discuss a few things regarding this subculture that has emerged amidst the heavy trials and tribulations of living in the now. Emoes are tortured souls who draw their power of being some of the most annoying humans on the planet from their constant struggle with the ills of everyday life. I'm talking pain here. The excruciating emotional pain that only a teenager can experience. The holocaust? Child's play. The great depression? A joke. The Rwandan Genocides? More like a pillow fight shared between close friends. I'm talking fucking tragedy here. I'm talking about being 5 minutes too late for purchasing Fall Out Boy tickets. I'm talking about losing your cell phone in a toilet full of throw up. I'm talking about TRAGEDY. Tra-ge-dy. I'm talking about someone criticizing your choice of color when buying those new Chuck Taylors. TRAGEDY. This is what they face. This is what they're up against.

Insurmountable.

You cannot be emo unless you are brutally committed to originality. They are just so damn individualistic and unique. They are not like the goth culture of the late 80's and 90's in any way. They are totally original. Wearing drab makeup and acting sad has never been attempted in the history of man. They are literally taking ground, breaking it into a million little pieces and declaring it "new". This is pain. This is tragedy. This is something that no one, who doesn't

own at least 4 shades of black lipstick, can ever understand or feel. They ARE NOT new aged goths. They are original. They are the innovating masters of the sadness spectre. They will not conform.

You cannot possibly say emo without mentioning the greatest little phrase in the history of the universe. Fucking get your hands on roughly 1 million q-tips and remove the votive sized bundles of ear wax from your ear for this. Call your kids and wake your parents. This will rock the shit right out of your ass crack. Here we go...Emoes are non-conformist. You show me an emo who doesn't believe with the entirety of their heart that they are non-conformist, and I'll show you an emo who ain't shit in the emo world. If you are non-non-conformist and have the audacity to call youself emo, you deserve to be shot in the face. Fuck it, I can't even go on with this whole sarcasm angle. I feel naked and dirty after typing the last couple paragraphs. Let's just be real. Here's the thing...NO ONE IS NON-CONFORMIST. We belong to a species called the human race. If you're really dedicated to this whole non-conformist thing, you would find a way to get a species change and become a fucking sea turtle. The bottom line in life is that we're all working towards the goal of procreation. This is what binds us together. You know Chad right? Chad. Cmon you know Chad. The guy in your art class who is so deep and sensitive and *gasp* he even wears makeup. Yeah, you know him. He's so dreamy. Well guess what...Chad is only acting this way so he can attract you, and females like you, in hopes of having sex with you. And believe, when Chad does have sex with you, there will be nothing deep and sensitive about it. Something to ponder while you wait for your pop tarts to burn. Of course you would burn your pop tarts. You like your food tortured just like your soul.

The music. Oh the music. Is there anything more annoying than a cyclical musical circle jerk. "I used to like My Chemical Romance but then they sold out, now I hate them like I hate myself." While you were too busy being depressed about your favorite band making money, you forgot to realize that your favorite band doesn't give a shit about you. Is your name Sales? No? Then they really don't give a shit about you. How stupid is it to base your music tastes on whether or not the band has signed with a major? The lead signer of that band you love so much is not deep. I take that back...he is deep. Knee deep. In pussy. Because that's why he's making the music. He's not looking to touch you in a profound way. Unless, of course, you are a groupie's labia. He is not a tortured soul. The last torturing thing he was involved in was his decision between a benz or a beamer. Choose the music you want to listen to because you like how it sounds. Don't base it on "selling out" or how "no one has ever heard of these guys that's how good they are!". It's stupid.

Contrary to popular belief, the main objective of an emo is NOT to kill themselves. The main objective of an emo is to come just close enough to killing themselves that people feel bad for them. Here it is plain and simple. YOUR DEPRESSION IS A PRODUCT OF YOUR LIFESTYLE, not the other way around. Change your life and you won't be depressed. But then what excuse would you have for being a 16 yead old male with a KD Lang hair cut and more makeup than a Geisha girl? I guess no excuse would be the answer to that question. Look. I understand people have serious real deal depression. I know that fact all too well. Emoes are a slap in the face to everyone who has ACTUALLY suffered from REAL depression. Here's a new cry-for-help strategy. Give it a shot...open your mouth and fucking cry for help. You are not depressed because you are tortured. You are not depressed. You are sad. You think you're sad because your boyfriend is slamming that girl who was your best friend yesterday and your bitter enemy last week. Really, you are sad because you spend all your time indoors indulging yourself in an intangible way of life. You see no real results from the way your spend your time so you cut yourself because the blood is real. The pain is real. Put down that exacto you lifted from art class and pick up a baseball bat. Or a violin. Or go jogging. Do something that doesn't involve myspace or MSN. People had it a hell of a lot worse 50 years ago and they were happier back then. Put shit in perspective. You have friends, you have a nice house, and you have every advantage at your finger tips. Your parents not letting you go to that party last weekend doesn't mean that they don't love you. They do love you and I'm sure a lot of other people love you too. Perspective. It's all about perspective. Don't kill yourself. Even if you ARE an emo...we'd rather you here than not here and that's the complete truth. Life is fucking the best thing there is. Better than PANIC! At The Disco. Better than lime green Chuck Taylors. Better than a burnt pop tart. Know it. Believe it. Remember it.

When did changing your Facebook status start counting as staying in touch with your friends? How is "what do you mean what did I do last night? dude, check my FB status" acceptable? What if everyone changed their status to "out getting a fucking life" and actually followed through on it?                                                                                                                                                                          

Why can't I see boobs on American television? How come I can see someone with "blunt force trauma" to the head on literally every episode of CSI, but not a pair of good old fashion all American breasts? What is more shocking to me as a human being? A guy with his brains seeping from his skull or a juicy pair of wholesome titties?

Are video game cheat codes tainting the value of hard work in the minds of our youth? Will someone ever invent the "get a girl to sleep with you" cheat code or a level skip password for when you have to go to church? Are our future leaders going to be constantly searching GameFaqs.com for the world peace map hack? If real world hacks and cheats actually do exist, should I be really afraid of Asian kids right now?

Why are there so many add-ons for my browser? Where is our society heading when you need Internet Explorer to tell you what day it is and what the weather is like outside? When do real life add-ons like a job or future aspirations come into play? Where can I download the "cougar radar" add-on?

How is MSN a form of courtship? Since when does flirting require a solid internet connection? Is overhearing someone say, "yo that girl digs me, she totally gave me her hotmail address...SCORE!!!" the saddest thing you heard today? Or is it a glimmer of hope for your own personal (non)sex life?

Why do I have people as friends on Facebook that I wouldn't even dream of considering my friends in real life? How can I go to a party and not say a single word to someone, yet with the aid of their Facebook photos, know how many chunks were in their vomit last Saturday night?
                                                                                                                                                                          
Who is in control of the fucking media these days? If Tara Reid, Lindsay Lohan, and Britney Spears all died in a horrific bumper boats accident, would life go on? Is anyone else disgusted that when I say the word "Paris", you immediately picture a ridiculously spoiled famous-for-nothing jizz continuum, rather than a beautifully romantic city in France?

Why are our emotions limited to the amount of smilies we've downloaded? How many different ways can your computer smile at someone else's computer? Does exchanging emoticons on AOL or MSN count as a face to face meeting? In the future, will important business meetings be held via conference call or AIM group chat? What is the smiley for "society is royally fucked"?

I'm not here to provide answers, really. I'm not an "answers" sort of guy. Just a few things to ponder while you plan out your day of surfing the web, browsing the web, shopping on the web, webbing the web, looking at porno on the web, seeing the weather on the web, and talking on the web. Web web.

Unplug yourself.

And maybe while you're outside doing real people stuff you can urge your friends to read my blog.