sulci: There is this terrible stereotype that the only Caucasian cosplayers are fat and hairy, and that only Asian cosplayers are hot. What do you think of this stereotype, Newbs? True or False?

Newbs: I have seen bang-able ladies of all races in cosplay. I’ve also borne witness to quite a number notties: white, Asian, blue, and purple.

sulci: Well I would like our readers to come to their own conclusion on this episode of Cosplay Idol. Exhibit 1: nipple girl here, Cammy from Street Fighter. All signs point to hot, however the status of her nipples is quite unknown. Are they falsies? continually hard? Is it part of her suit? Was she just chilly for the shot? Does it add to her hotness? Personally I have no idea, and am just very confused. You?

Newbs: Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Boots.

sulci: I see, very profound. Let’s take another look at a Street Fighter cosplay. Zangief, bearer of the treasure trail from hell. only it’s upside down. Again, very confusing to the overall hotness of the person. What is that stuck in his belt? Nametag? Cosplay tag? Are his nipples hard?

Newbs: Well actually, sulci. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Nipples. Beard.

sulci: Thanks again Newbs, for your important contributions to this conversation. Let’s leave Street Fighter for a moment to reflect upon this cosplayer. It seems to be a very hot Pikachu girl. Although it’s hard to tell without the Pika-tail. :(

Newbs: If given the opportunity, I would Poké-pummel this Pikachu until my Pokéballs erupted with Gengar. Check out how low down that skirt actually starts. I can almost guarantee there is ass crack on the other side of this shot. We are one inch from vag. And that belt. And that bra. And those ears. Arrgagagfj.

sulci: Yes well, no confusing nipples here, but there are some confusing moles. Overall not enough to take away from the Caucasian hotness. Let’s move on.

sulci: So I hear you are a big fan of the legend of Zelda. How likely would you be to bang Zelda here?

Newbs: Despite the previous image, I have lost the ability to get an erection, and indeed, the will to live. Surely, heavy-metal Link, and heavy-ass Zelda represent the worst whitey has to offer. I can not imagine a worse offense to the game franchise I value so dearly than these repugnant excuses for cosplayers.

sulci: I’m sure the year before she went as Princess Peach or Sailor Moon. Ruining one franchise every year and spoiling the image of any hot cosplayer ever existing.

Newbs: sulci, I am proud to introduce our next contender in Cosplay Idol. It’s this incredible fan video from Otakon featuring the music of Katy Perry. In this piece, we see American cosplayers in varying shades of hotness show off to sometimes stunning degrees. The break dancer proves to me that, yes, nerds can be physically fit. I’m a changed man because of this video, and for the better.

sulci: I think this video can definitely disprove the idea that Caucasian cosplayers are only hot because of Photoshop. Here we see them in flesh and blood and moving about and sometimes blinking while posing all cool. A particular highlight for me was the end, where this super hot girl from some unknown anime is seen with three Adams jumping around in sync. Plus, that is the hottest Asuka I have EVER seen. And trust me, I’ve seen a lot of Asukas.

sulci: Well we’ll wrap up this controversy with a little bit of cuteness, this angry little Stormtrooper. How cute!! Probably takes direction better than baby Vaders. What do you think, Newbs?

Newbs: “Aren’t you a little short for a Stormtrooper?” I can’t tell what race this kid is due to the costume, all I see is an awesome Stormtrooper. In the end, isn’t that all that matters?

Newbs: Bonus: there is a cowboy in the background of this shot.

When it’s on the radio, apparently. As a Canadian citizen, I have the ability to enjoy music on the radio. 91.7 The Bounce pipes in the American Top 40 on weekends, hosted by the ever-irritating Ryan Seacrest. One of the recent hits that’s been on the AT40, as well as frequently played on The Bounce during the week, is Jerimih’s Birthday Sex. It’s a catchy tune, and the phrase “birthday sex” is repeated many times in the song. It is not edited during regular play on The Bounce, but on the AT40, “sex” is replaced by a “shhh”.

I wasn’t aware that sex was a word to be equated with the worst of the worst. It is now one of those words that nobody dares to play during daytime television and anywhere on the radio. It’s among the ranks of fuck, shit, cunt, cock and the like. At least on Canadian stations, they still play hell, damn and sometimes even an ass slips through. And since so many songs give rather graphic descriptions of sexual acts that don’t get censored, and different words for the act are allowed, why is the kibosh being put on “sex”? Especially from a nation that is drenched in sexual imagery, anyway?
Listening to 102.3 Now! Radio, in one of Hedley’s big hits, Cha-Ching, the word “lesbians” is censored. This really boggles my mind. To me, that seems like blatant discrimination.

Maybe it’s just my Canadian liberalism clouding my judgment. After all, Jay-Z’s new song, I Just Wanna Love U, contains the lyrics “gimme that funk, that sweet, that nasty, that gushy stuff”. And it doesn’t take a lot of effort to think of what that is most likely referring to. Yet that line is never censored. For all the sex, drugs and violence that are depicted on TV, condom and male enhancement supplements advertised on the radio, you’d think they’d ease up at least on regular, everyday English words.

sulci: So I’m guessing that you’re filing this one under hotties, Newbs. For no merit other than some gigantian mammaries. Isn’t she like 12 in the anime? If you just saw her hair you might mistake her for Ronald McDonald or something. Am I old and cynical now?

Newbs: Urrrrrgn. I’m having trouble concentrating. Hell, I’m having trouble seeing the cosplay for the breasts… Tearing myself away for a moment, I see that this young lady is holding a Pikachu, and yet she is clearly cosplaying as Misty. That is a blatant contradiction from the show, in which this character carries a Togepi. I give this woman top marks in the breast department, but she loses points for accuracy.

Newbs: Actually, sulci, what we have here are three people very accurately dressed as the three Noonien type androids of Star Trek: The Next Generation. On the far left is Lore, Data’s evil brother. In the middle is Data’s short-lived daughter, the star of my all-time favourite episode of Star Trek, “The Offspring,” Lal. On the right is Mr. Data himself, the baddest ass in all the galaxy. Spectacular cosplay all around.

sulci: Finally some Sailor Moon cosplay that doesn’t include having to see the bazillionth reiteration of the famous Sailor Senshi uniform, or a last minute Tuxedo Kamen outfit. This is JunJun, a member of the Dead Moon Circus, a group of baddies from the SuperS season. I think this lady here is a prime example of the classic phrase “over the shoulder boulder holder” if I may say so. But overall I’d say its a creative and cute costume.

Newbs: JunJun here has some fine ta-tas that make me go boing-boing. I have no idea what the fuck sulci is talking about, and so I have to judge this costume based solely on the merits of its ability to present breasts, and it does so with remarkable panache. This is one of the most innovative means of displaying cleavage that I’ve ever seen. Would wank again.

sulci: You’ll have to thank Naoko Takeuchi for that awe inspiring costume design, Newbs. Moving on to another orb, I have no idea what the fuck this is. I can see his pants through the seam. And I’m glad he comes equipped with speakers at the very least.

Newbs: I can see this man’s crotch directly through the large crack in his orb. Having said that, I think the largest issue I have with this pitiful attempt at cosplaying as the Death Star from Star Wars is the absence of arms. How does this man plan on groping Sailor Jujubes without arm holes? Actually, how does he even plan on getting through any doors? And what about the bathroom? Is he planning on aiming through his crack?

sulci: Like every other interneter who has seen the movie Up by Pixar, the first time I saw this little chubby Asian kid coplaying as Russell I thought to myself, “Holy Shit.” It really is him. This is fucking epic. Look at the angle of his hat and everything. Coincidence or just pure awesomeness?

Newbs: This kid’s costume is of such high quality that I have to wonder if there was some parental pressure being applied in the fashion of Michael Jackson’s father. Was he always exactly the right weight, or was he force fed until he could achieve this singular moment of cosplaying perfection?

sulci: Okay, I take back what I said before when I said something negative about all the iterations of Sailor Senshi uniforms. Men wearing them is always acceptable. I appreciate the fine attention to detail exhibited here, such as the hair cut, pose, and booties. However, I have a few questions. Where is Sailor Mercury’s tiara? What’s he got under that skirt? And most importantly, do you think he really has cankles?? Note for next time: could have shaved.

Newbs: I have a few questions of my own, sulci. Firstly, are those sweat stains on his shoulders, or did he just wipe Cheetos grease across his costume? Also, is that facial hair, or did this man chase his cheese-flavoured snack with a brownie? I can’t even describe what an abomination of an attempt this little dress-up session is. Cosplay of Sailor Scouts is intended to provide basement dwellers like myself with late-night wank material, not fuel the energy-drink fever dreams of our days. It’s time for this middle-aged office-worker wash-out to head back to the cubicle, I’ve had enough.

Well noobs, It seems that if there are no breasts, or no Star Trek, you probably hate it when it comes to cosplay. Stay tuned for another post sometime in the far future, with your favorite column: Cosplay Idol.

Have a look at this video (note: NSFW due to anime tits), it’s called “Akihabara Majokko Princess,” and stars Kirsten Dunst singing “Turning Japanese” while she visits Tokyo dressed as a magical school girl. The video was directed by McG, and was produced by Japanese artist Takashi Murakami.

At first glance, the video appears to be a fun, Japan love session from the perspective of a western visitor, with the Dunst character having found the place of her dreams. Having watched the video an unhealthy amount of times at this point, however, I think there’s significantly more to it than that. I view the piece as telling the story of a westerner enamoured with an imaginary Japanese culture constructed in the west and existing in her head. The Dunst character from the early parts of the video may also be representative of the west more broadly.

Dunst is dressed up as a truly outlandish “magical schoolgirl,” and that may seem like the perfect get-up for fitting in in Akihabara, but if you pay attention to the people she’s interacting with, no one is even close to her level of insanity. The video opens with people getting on the train for work, and, I think importantly, a young man yawning. These things indicate to me that this is every day life in Tokyo, and the people living there enjoy themselves as much/as little as people living anywhere else. Enter Dunst: she struts around like she “gets” this place, and immediately starts acting like a total lunatic while a bunch of very bored locals look on. At one point, she even chases around an old guy in a grey suit who appears to have no interest in her shenanigans. The whole thing is reminiscent of a person who doesn’t get the “tone” of a party, walks in, starts slamming drinks and screaming while everyone else just feels put off.

Eventually, the Dunst character gets a few people to play along with her antics. This includes some street performers wearing track suits and masks from western entertainment (like Dobby!), and some random girls who look like they got pulled out of their jobs at maid cafes. These scenes contribute to the “fun” outer layer of the video, but they also illustrate another misunderstanding by the Dunst character. Our magical schoolgirl and the others are dancing around in the middle of a wide open road while dozens, if not hundreds, of “normal” people look on from the sidewalk. These events suggest that while the wacky elements of Japanese culture which the Majokko Princess wants so badly to be real do exist, they are smaller and less pervasive than she has imagined them to be.

The significance of the song Turning Japanese should not be overlooked. As Zeek Slider points out, “the cliché of East meets West is a rabid as herpes in this video.” Japanese and western popular culture intermingle and double back on each other in the video, with a Japan fused with western culture (see: the Dobby mask) being visited by a white girl seeking a place outside of the west. Her fetishising of Japan mirrors a past (or is that present?) fetishising of the west by Japan.

At about 3:15 into the video, Dunst falls to her knees while the camera pans around, but the street around her is empty and grey. She appears to be deluded, her body language suggests she is enraptured, and she exclaims “turning Japanese I really think so,” as though she has finally made it, she has become Japanese and it is exactly as she imagined it to be. Sadly, no one is around her, she still doesn’t “get” the culture which she desires so badly to be a part of, and she is missing the fact that she’s still living a masturbatory reimagining of Japanese culture invented in the west.

The video is spliced with scenes in a white room of Dunst playing with some colourful plush toys. At some point, these objects assemble to form a giant living toy, seemingly thanks to the magic of Dunst’s wand. The two characters dance around this room, having fun, until the end, when Dunst waves her wand one last time and makes her friend disappear. The symbolism should be obvious: the room is the princess’ imagination, she created this make-believe friend for herself, and the friend represents the Japan of the Majokko Princess’ dreams. When Dunst finally puts an end to her imaginary friend, it may be that she has now seen the real Japan and matured past her fantasy. The video suggests that the west need only visit Japan to find that the country is not so deserving of othering, and that the two cultures are not so different.

[image source]

sulci: I always pick Ulala in Sega Superstar Tennis for DS. As for cosplay, I think we all have to admit that the girl is pretty hot, and that her costume is very well done.

Newbs: Now this is the kind of cosplay I like to see. Asian broads wearing pink wigs and shorts skirts is pretty much my number one fetish. I approve heartily of this particular example, and thoroughly enjoy objectifying this lovely young lady.

sulci: Thigh highs, short shorts, high cut tops. I’m sure this is another stunning example of what Newbs likes to see in cosplay. Apparently this guy, “Man-Faye” is uber famous in the cosplay world.

Newbs: This is pretty much the opposite of the preceding picture, and represents everything wrong with cosplay today. First of all, this is a man, goddamn it, and I can’t do anything with pictures of men! The only redeeming quality of this guy is that he’s dressed as Faye Valentine from Cowboy Bebop, and she was pretty stylin’.

sulci: Aaah, Blood Elves from WOW, the first really nice looking playable characters for the Horde side (aside from that one troll face) ladies. Aside from the slightly off-putting foot long ears, and the fact that the lady here is wielding a blade instead of magic, it’s a decent attempt at probably the most over-cosplayed race. Where are the trolls, damnit???

Newbs: I don’t know what the fuck sulci is talking about. All I see is another fine Elf that I wouldn’t mind impaling with my +8 mithril sword. I was, at first, uncomfortable with the giant pointy ears, but I’m starting to think they could be useful in the barracks.

sulci: What the fuck is this. I don’t know what game she is from, or why she appears to only have one leg, but it is pretty disturbing. Plus her latex (I assume), if you look closely, has sweat stains or something on it. I guess from far away it’s a pretty cute costume (aside from the leg thing), and the hat looks well crafted. But why is it a different colour? And is she yawning or laughing? I’m so confused!!!

Newbs: sulci, I don’t think you’re showing enough respect for Midna, of The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess fame. First of all, those aren’t sweat stains, that’s where I drooled all over her. She’s got a white foot that blends in with the harshly lit ground, and her helmet is the colour of a damn helmet. Now stop whining and start fantasizing about this tight piece of Hylian ass.

sulci: Now this is a cosplay I can appreciate. The three main characters from Death Note, Misa Amane, Light Yagami, and the notorious L. Stoic faces and emo-inspired costumes from a pretty good manga series results in an A from me.

Newbs: What the fuck is this bullshit? I can’t beat off to this OR make fun of it. These guys are from some anime series? Who cares! Let’s get back to the sexy ladies.

sulci: Ok No0bz, last one then. Here is a fine example of cosplay from a classic game. Look, he is even holding a ring. That’s fucking authentic. Still not sure if it’s a girl or a boy though, but I’m pretty sure the real Sonic was a lot flatter. So, what do you say Newbs? Gonna jack off to that?

Newbs: I reserve judgment on masturbatory value until after deciding if this hideous thing is a man or a woman. I think I see some breasts, but that is an awfully strong jawline. I also have to wonder why this human has chosen to only paint half of his/her face, forcing me to see so much of the hideous face that lies beneath this sad attempt at an anthropomorphic abomination. I can’t stand to look any longer, let’s end this thing here.

As of the first day of 2010, it is illegal to speak blasphemy in Ireland. The law was passed in July of 2009, but came into effect just in time for New Year’s. It seems to be a bit of a touchy subject, as the “rules” to the law is that the blasphemy must “intentionally cause outrage” amongst followers of the religion that is targeted. Mind you, at least they’ve broadened to all religions and not just Christianity.

One has to wonder how they enforce such a law. The law that states blasphemy as “publishing or uttering matter that is grossly abusive or insulting in relation to matters sacred by any religion, thereby intentionally causing outrage among a substantial number of adherents of that religion, with some defences permitted”. How would they rate outrage? What number is substantial? And how will they find out if the impact was at all intentional?

There have been many books and comics and speeches made by some by the right of free speech that have offended many people, and sometimes the offense spreads worldwide. The infamous Danish political cartoon, depicting the Muslim prophet Mohammed, caused a worldwide outrage among Muslims. Yet in Ireland, Muslims make up a very small two percent of the population. If not all of them are outraged, that amount of people is even less than two percent. That’s less than 84,000 people in a country of more than four million. And who knows how much less? It really depends on how devout and how political the Muslims in Ireland are. Is that enough people to offend to arrest someone for blasphemy? What about very small religious minorities?

The impact caused by that cartoon, by Kurt Westergaard of Denmark, was slightly unforeseen and certainly not intentional. You know, unless he wanted all the death threats and physical assaults on his person. He had people break into his home, and was targeted by al-Qaida. Surely he must be punished under the anti-blasphemy law as well.

What about simple disagreement in religious belief? Seeing as Christians believe that Jesus Christ is the saviour of all mankind, they will hold that belief. But if a person is Jewish, they do not believe in Jesus Christ as the Messiah. So are a Jewish person’s openly expressed beliefs blasphemous to a Christian and vice-versa? Where is the fine line that decides?

Ironically enough, many countries still have blasphemy laws. Like Canada. We still have an anti-blasphemy law in our criminal code. But no one has been prosecuted for blasphemy in a good seventy years! Shouldn’t our “freedom of thought, belief, opinion and expression, including freedom of the press and other media of communication” granted to us through the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms override that law? Apparently not, unless your blasphemy is “express[ed] in good faith and in decent language, or [while] attempting to establish by argument used in good faith and conveyed in decent language, an opinion on a religious subject.” Good luck with that.

One of my goals this summer was to “get in good enough shape to fuck with impunity.” By that, I meant “get in good enough shape to be a glistening wall of muscle, so toned that no lady could resist.” Most people have, in their lives, gotten exercise: when they were kids they were a part of some after school activity like soccer or karate, when they were teenagers, they acted out through hoodlum-ish behaviour requiring physical strength, when they hit adulthood, they participated in guilt-induced bouts of jogging and weight lifting, and throughout all of this, rode their bikes. Not so, for me. Previous to this summer, my only exercise experience came from the odd walk, clumsy nerd basketball, and that one summer when I jumped rope.

I’m explaining all of this to make it clear that I started out well back of what most people would consider average. I didn’t have muscle hidden beneath fat waiting to break free, and I lacked a lot of the basic skills which people have generally acquired by my age that they use to work out: bike riding, skating, swimming, and even running.

I didn’t accomplish my goal this summer. I lifted weights almost every day, went for regular walks, and played one game of sweat-inducing nerd basketball every week, and yet the mammoth tower of flesh I imagined does not sit at this keyboard. Having said that, my level of fitness has improved, and I plan on continuing my regimen until such time that I am unable to cope with all of the sex being thrown my way.

So, now that I’ve explained all of that, what was the problem? Why didn’t I have this background? The answer is, surprisingly, not laziness, or even cheapness, but fear. Fear of being normal, in other words, fear of being a dick. When I was in Junior High, gym class was a lesson in what it meant to be within the normal parameters of strength: the normal person whips volleyballs at your face, explains to you that you are worthless, and follows it up with a wedgie in the change room.

You might think that such behaviour is typical only of the Junior High student, and once he or she grows out of that phase, the healthy person ceases to be a dick, but you’d be wrong, and I can prove it. You see, once annually, I like to justify my misanthropy by checking in on these people at the gym.

The last time I went was no different from all of the others. Women wearing tight pants and stretching (you’re hot and unobtainable, I know!). Men lumbering around, lifting the occasional weight or playing a bit of some sport (you’re in shape and could beat me up, I get it!). You gym people and your casual attitude, your confident and non-showy way of performing your exercises, you think you’re better than me! If we were fourteen again, you’d be letting me know it, too!

Because I’m constantly aware of the brobdingnagian hatred my gym onlookers have for me and their desperation to physically abuse me, I can never be truly comfortable in a gym. It’s just that when everyone around you is thinking “that guy sucks,” it’s hard to work out non-ironically, because the only way to defend against the constant threat of fist-wailing is to get in on the joke yourself. Tyler Durden called exercise masturbation. For normal people, it’s public masturbation without the embarrassment. It’s masturbation for the sake of comparing dick sizes, but finding you’re all tied at 10 feet and then circling up for congratulations.

My solution was simple; this summer I exercised in the protected space of my basement. That way, I could masturbate in private, the way it’s supposed to be.

Canada is famously and perpetually confused about its own cultural identity. Some have tried to stitch one together out of hockey and beer; others attempt to find identities by clinging to the traditions of their long-dead relatives. What no one seems to realize is that these things just don’t mean anything. There is no logical reason to take pride in the actions of others, or to place yourself in a community of which you have no meaningful associations.

Being the citizen of a country doesn’t require much. It usually depends upon where you’re born, and is not even under your own control. That’s it. There’s no particular diet you need to adhere to, no passion for any particular sport you need to proclaim, no kind of music that you need to love. All of that, as well as what languages you speak and what religion, if any, you follow are decided by the circumstances under which you were raised and your own personal choices, and none of it is genetic.

The past actions of dead people can have major consequence on the lives of the living, but their accomplishments are not anyone else’s, and being related to them does not warrant dressing up like them and dancing the way they danced at the Heritage Festival. This kind of behaviour is nothing more than an attempt for people to grant themselves identities they can no longer claim to have.

I get that sometimes, ancestor’s lives were hard, and sometimes it was for unfortunate historical reasons. Sometimes, those problems persist in some capacity in the present, such as with racism. In those situations, I encourage everyone to work to overcome those societal problems. Claiming, however, the toil of your relatives as a source of personal pride is simply meaningless, you weren’t there, and you didn’t experience it.

If you want to celebrate the circumstances under which you were raised, embrace multiculturalism, and please do. I just ask that you first consider what your culture actually is, and what those circumstances actually were, rather than blindly attaching yourself to your one-quarter-Irish roots, throwing down some green beer on St. Patrick’s Day, and calling yourself Irish.

If you were born in Canada, you’re Canadian. You don’t have to be proud of that, you don’t have to embrace it in any capacity, and you don’t have to use it as an identity either, that’s just what it says on your passport. Everything else is a figment of your imagination. No matter how much you might wish you were your Chinese grandfather, or your relatives in China, currently contributing to the rise of the Chinese economy, you are not those people.

The point is that you have no association with these places other than the fact that your parents (or grandparents, or great-grandparents) happen to have lived there and then moved here. These places currently have very little to do with your life, other than under a broader social scope and in the roles you’ve forced them to play.

I’ve heard it claimed that it is important to remember where you come from. I, like everyone else, came out of womb. My ancestors lived on farms and used ploughs. It’s likely that yours did too, ploughs are a part of history and they deserve to be studied and remembered, but they hardly need to be dragged out once a year and driven around the back yard in celebration of the ploughers who came before.

Don’t be afraid to enjoy any culture. I’ve ensconced my life in Japanese video games and American movies, because those are the things I enjoy. Rather than arbitrarily selecting a few habits from the people you’re related to, consider attempting some hobbies you would genuinely enjoy.

An Ontario man named Pasqualino Cornelio was recently ordered to continue paying child support for twin 16-year-olds, who, it turns out, aren’t his. The story has caught a decent amount of attention, yet it doesn’t feel all that unique.

This story smacks of the same kind of disregard for men’s rights which perpetually crop up in family law cases. These kinds of man-gets-fucked-by-child-support stories stay with men. That’s because, in these cases, men’s rights are irrelevant, the courts just want someone who can start paying. As the judge in the Cornelio case pointed out, these decisions are based on the best interest of the child. That argument is extremely persuasive in our society, children are worshipped, but I think it’s time to rethink this whole notion of children before everyone.

Had the Cornelio case taken place in an alternate Canada in which children were just people, Cornelio would have been relieved of his child support duties, at which time the search for the real father could have begun. If none was found, then his cheating ex-wife would have been left with the task of supporting her teenage daughters. Both situations sound a lot fairer than the one actually put into place. The current decision rewards fraud and suggests that the best thing for people in need of financial support is to have their expenses assigned to the nearest-available passer-by. Think of the homeless, when they need help, we as a society can come together to help them, but I’m not interested in being saddled with the expense of one entire person just because he happens to beg on my street corner.

That may seem petty and harsh, “think of those poor girls, why should they suffer?” you might argue. Sure, I know their lives get harder; they become victims of an unfortunate situation. That’s true for a lot of people, Pasqualino Cornelio, for example. He’s a person too, funnily enough, but his non-daughters’ well-being takes precedence over his own, by merely being younger than him. I can understand that this man has appeared in these children’s lives as a father, but it’s up to him to decide what role he wishes to have with these girls now. I would like to see a court system which views men as people, rather than ATMs for other, shorter people.

Even in cases where the biological father is known, unfairness exists. In the realm of accidental pregnancies that come from broken condoms, forgotten pills, and drunken carelessness, women get to make a choice, and men get to pay for it. It takes two to make a pregnancy happen, but by law there’s only one person that can make it end, and with that decision it seems only logical that the future child become that person’s responsibility alone.

A woman’s right to choose what happens to her own body is absolutely vital, but our children-first society weakens the consequences of that choice. Currently, women can avoid the guilt of abortion by just having the kid, knowing there will be a father legally required to help support it. As a bonus, if he doesn’t pay up, he becomes a deadbeat, and a wonderfully convenient punching bag.

These issues are fundamentally about men’s rights. Forcing men to help pay for their unwelcome or non-children is currently considered preferable to having single mothers seek government assistance. The argument is another play that distracts from the real issue, a universal hatred of taxes keeps people for questioning the lopsided nature of child support cases. The argument ignores the pressure child support payments place on fathers themselves, and the well being of the child is held up above everyone else’s. In a society which treated children as people, their suffering would not take precedence.

Sleeping
Probably the best way to kill time is to sleep. If you wanted to use your time effectively, you would probably sleep between six and eight hours a day. Six if you have some stuff you need to get done, eight if you want to be healthy and feel good. What’s so effective about those numbers is that they work well as fractions, six is a quarter of a day, and eight is a third. Sleeping for exactly a third of a day will probably lead to a feeling of satisfaction and enjoyment. Of course, you want to kill time and burn through the day, so I recommend sleeping at least nine hours, and if you can manage it, twelve.

Nine is easy, make sure you don’t need to get up early, and just stay in bed until you feel you’ve really gotten all the sleep you want; it’ll probably be about nine hours. Twelve is the challenge. I recommend setting your alarm clock for the middle of the night to really fuck with your sleep patterns. The lower the quality of your sleep overall, the longer you need to sleep to feel well. If you find that no matter how poor your sleep has been, if you’re wide awake after nine hours and just can’t make it, try masturbating right there in bed, with any luck it’ll conk you out for the stretch. Twelve, being half of twenty-four is another clean fraction, but one you can really feel ashamed about.

Get that time, kill it.

Working
There are few who find work they actually enjoy, and having a job you hate too much might inspire you to quit and improve your life. I recommend finding a job you don’t especially enjoy but don’t completely hate either. Try finding a job with plenty of hours, and one with shifts right in the middle of the day. That way your free time is split up on either side of your shifts, and there is a reduced chance you might find something worthwhile with those hours.

Not Working
This is not recommended for novices, but not working can actually be a better way to waste time than working. For the less skilled, not working runs the risk of inspiring a person to self improvement and seeking out new experiences, so make sure you know what you’re doing before you try it. If you think you can handle it, not working has the potential to be a world of endless TV, movies, video games, porn, and internet browsing.

Watching TV
With twelve hours of sleep and an 8 hour shift at work, you should only have four hours for yourself, and those are best wasted on entertainment. If you’re going the route of not working, then you’re in for a whopping twelve hours. With this time, I recommend as much television as possible, as it truly is the most brain deadening, lethargic activity a person can engage in. Television is especially effective at night when utterly nothing worth attention is on, hours can be wasted by either changing channels continuously or leaving on one station featuring a Wild On marathon followed by promotions for Girls Gone Wild.

Consuming Other Entertainment
Television isn’t the only form of entertainment with which to waste time. There are also video games, though playing games you haven’t played previously runs the risk of feeling satisfying, I recommend playing the same games you’ve played through dozens of times already. Movies are similar, stay away from anything award winning as it might prompt you to think and/or feel emotions, just watch the movies you loved as a kid over and over again. Trilogies like the original Star Wars films, Indiana Jones, and Back to the Future make great marathons for weekends when you have extra time to kill.

That time is done for.

Browsing the Internet
This is similar to consuming entertainment, but so effective that it warrants its own heading. The amazing thing about internet browsing is that it’s absorbing enough to ward off the sort of boredom that might otherwise force a person into accomplishing something. While stumbling through popular sites like YouTube, Digg, and Wikipedia is extremely effective, I find that lurking internet forums is the ultimate form of internet time-killing. Find a site with a large community that shares many of your interests, and start browsing. You will begin to find that reading every post of a good thread, and absorbing all of the differing opinions therein will become an overwhelming addiction. Best of all, you will remember little-to-none of what you read the next morning, therefore truly nullifying your time. Communities exist for everything from giant robot fetishes to, my favourite, video game sales statistics.

Everything Else
If you run out of entertainment, there are many other ways to waste time. Having a child or buying a pet requires you to allot a certain amount of time each day to caring for these horrific creatures, and interacting with these lower life forms automatically requires you to shut off your brain, they serve as excellent time wasters. There’s also the previously mentioned masturbation, which not only requires little thinking, but actually lowers any drive to engage in thinking afterward. Drinking, smoking, and illicit drug use can really waste time, and the costs required force a person to work more, thus wasting an even greater amount of time!

As you can see, there is a plethora of amazing ways to waste time, begin with a few of these suggestions, and work your way up as you push out the satisfying parts of your life. Taking the time to read this article was already an excellent start.

For me, this alone justifies banning pets in Canada, but there is a myriad of other reasons. Even the most responsible pet owners can’t control their pets all of the time. Being chased by runaway dogs can be terrifying, as once happened to me. I don’t know what kind they were, I just don’t care enough about the various human-engineered pseudo-species to know, but they were one of the large, vicious, angry kind. My youth has been filled with rogue cats shitting in my parent’s yard, and I anticipate much the same thing once I have a place of my own.

Of course, it’s not just pet owners that are the issue; animals themselves have inherent problems that make them unbearable to share a society with. Like many, I suffer from pet allergies, and it makes visiting other people’s houses difficult. You never know if you’re going to find their home infested with rampaging cats or slow-moving dogs, all bent on attacking with dander rather than teeth. Additionally, dogs and birds can be an extreme annoyance just with their incessant noise making.

With all of these problems, the reasons for actually owning a pet are entirely lost on me, without even considering the cost and responsibility associated with pet ownership. Anthrozoology.org suggests that there are “many psychological benefits animal companionship can give us, including providing security for the anxious, companionship for the lonely and status symbols for the image conscious.” All of which I interpret as “animals are crutches for the weak minded.”

These sound like very selfish reasons anyway, a person who gets married hopefully doesn’t do it for the psychological benefits. For a person to suggest that they want an animal for their own well-being is similar to a person declaring that they would like a husband or wife, anyone will do, just to feel better about him or herself.

I can’t help but wonder what the quality of life is like for the average pet. Is a dog that stares all day at the front door, waiting for the return of her owner, really having that great a time? Perhaps well behaved pets are simply living with a collective case of Stockholm syndrome. Boredom for these animals must surely be an issue, for a bird trapped in a cage, or a dog whose daily highlights are eating and walking.

I suggest banning pet ownership to solve all of these issues. Start by outlawing pet sales by pet stores and breeders. Step up animal shelter efforts, and play fast and loose with their euthanasia policies. Eventually all of the animals currently in captivity will die off, and we can officially outlaw pets.
I’m not suggesting that anybody stop eating meat, or that we end cattle farming, or any of those other PETA-esque animal lover ideas. I’m all for raising animals for specific, utilitarian purposes, though preferably giving them a bit of room to run around in, but keep them out of towns and cities. Things will surely be a cleaner and saner for it.

In my childhood I was wrought with guilt over celebrating Christmas. Being an atheist, I wondered what I was doing celebrating the birth of some dude’s birthday whose religion I wanted to have utterly nothing to do with. It was greed that kept me coming back though, a deep seeded lust for Lego and chocolate. Now I see the error of my ways, a great Christmas can be had, with the only connection to Christ being an unfortunate parallel in name.

Just as Halloween was usurped from Pagans and turned into a fun time with virtually no religious connotations, so too can Christmas be converted. The secular pieces are already there: Santa Claus, gift exchanges, food gorging, Christmas trees, singing, and gaudy decorations are already integral Christmas traditions. Just make sure to put something other than an angel or a star on top of your tree, sing Frosty the Snowman instead of Oh Holy Night, and you’ve got yourself a secular Christmas.

There have been many cries that Christmas has become too commercial as well, and while I think the gifts and everything else are an important part of a secular Christmas, there is still room to celebrate family and togetherness. These things are universal, and I see no reason to stop celebrating them just because I’m kicking Christ out of my Christmas. Even we heathens can appreciate peace on Earth and goodwill toward men, despite the religious origins of that phrase.

I suppose that there are other holiday time religious traditions that could be latched onto, but Christmas is already so prevalent, and filled with so many non-religious traditions that, aside from an over-used Seinfeld reference, it’s the perfect holiday to abduct. Hanukkah intrigues me, in later iterations secular Christmas could even come to include eight days of gift giving, but such a commingling of traditions will take time to develop.

I would like to thank Christianity, a couple thousand years of intertwining traditions, and sheer corporate voracity for secular Christmas. It makes sense for a religion to celebrate the birth of its icon, though I’m not entirely sure what all the other stuff is really for, other than to just have a good time and make retailers a lot of money. It’s this other stuff, with all its good times and over spending that I’ll be borrowing.

Some might accuse me of waging that fabled “War on Christmas.” I’m not attacking Christmas though, just proposing to borrow it for me and my atheist cohorts. Christians can keep Christ right there in Christmas for themselves. Indeed, the existence of a secular Christmas might even guarantee that it retains political correctness. Allowing retailers to exclaim “merry Christmas” without the fear that they are appealing only to Christians at the exclusion of other religions.

Do not shy away from Christmas like you were Scrooge McDuck, my non-Christian brethren. Instead, embrace the glory of gifts, food, and family. Celebrating for the sake of celebrating can be fun.

You see, Pluto’s orbit is whacked the fuck out, it just doesn’t line up with the eight real planets of the solar system. It likes to hang out with the other hoodlums of the Sol system, a gaggle of ice balls in the Kuiper belt who could never afford a better orbit. Real planets have nice, clean, round orbits close to the sun like Earth and Mars. Sometimes they blow their wealth on a giant body and hang out a little further away like Jupiter. Pluto could just never compete, and scientists have finally shown the little bastard the door.

Kuiper belt objects, along with their dwarf planet kin don’t understand what it takes to be a planet, they don’t bother clearing their orbits of other objects, and sometimes they’re so small they can’t even overcome rigid body forces to make themselves round.

Becoming a planet is like joining an exclusive club. There are rules for these sorts of things, we need to keep the riffraff out, or else any jackass of a rock could become a planet, and I’d never be able to remember all their names. If Pluto had remained a planet, that would have cleared the way for potentially dozens more planets. It’s a chilling thought for someone like me, whose overpowered brain couldn’t be bothered to actually memorize his multiplication tables.

Mere humans that they are, astronomers still lag behind the sort of super intelligence that an Arts education has granted me. Their definition of a planet still fails my rigorous testing. The persons responsible for deciding this new definition didn’t bother including anything about objects with eccentric orbits. Any real planet ought to have an orbit shaped like a fine woman, completely round. Pluto’s orbit is elliptical and it intercepts with the orbit of Neptune, and it could have just as easily been kicked out by my own, much more eloquent definition.

If the scientists of the world were all as intelligent as me, they would have figured out interstellar travel by now, and we’d know what other solar systems look like. Since they aren’t that smart and they haven’t figured out interstellar travel, very little is known about other solar systems. It’s impossible right now to know if our system is the standard, and I can dig it if the definition of planet has to keep changing to keep up with new discoveries, I’m just going on what our solar system looks like.

Jerry: Ahh. [puts head down]
George: What?
Jerry: What is this? What are we doing? What in god’s name are we doing?
George: What?
Jerry: Our lives! What kind of lives are these? We’re like children. We’re not men.
George: No, we’re not. We’re not men.

Brace yourselves.

So I say to you, people of the internet, people of my generation, all nerds and social rejects, maybe even all people: what is this? What are we doing? Seriously, I want to know. We sit around all day forwarding lists to each other of asinine facts about our lives and expect others to create similar lists in some kind of effort to sift through the meaningless shit that inhabits our time and make some sense of it. We, to paraphrase another line from Seinfeld, pore over the excruciating minutiae of every single daily event via instant messengers, blogs, telephone, and even face to face. And there’s something else, we can’t express ourselves without somehow relating it to popular culture. Of course we also anticipate that everybody is automatically going to “get” our pop culture references, and why shouldn’t they? When we’re not circle jerking online or trying to fashion an identity cobbled together from magazine ads and Star Wars characters, we’re eating this pop culture and mass media up because that’s basically the only other thing to do.

Once we’ve chewed up enough pop culture we spit it back out in the form of polls of “what fictional character could kick this other fictional character’s ass?,” or we make shitty Photoshops with tired out cultural memes about Chuck Norris and Admiral Akbar, or we make videos of ourselves lip syncing pop songs.

We don’t have goals beyond getting another day of work behind us. I mean, everybody talks about traveling and imagines these brilliant career paths but then we knock some broad up or we marry some chick and then we’re rocking a keyboard the rest of our lives. So we live vicariously through video game companies, we let their success determine our happiness, get excited when they do well, down when they’re down. We idolize their heads of marketing and give them funny nicknames. We try to justify why our company’s sales were down a given week in Japan. A lot more commonly, we live vicariously through sports teams. And we reinforce this bond by referring to our favoured teams as “we” as though by simply residing in the same city we helped put our team on the field, or court, or ice. When we’re not referring to sports teams as “we,” we’re making assumptions about the groups to which we belong and making “we” generalizations.

We see people in the street and have whole relationships with them in our heads because we’re too afraid to talk to them, or because they’ve already got somebody. We see pictures of people and pick them apart for physical flaws, we visit websites dedicated to scoring people based on appearance on scales of one to ten, and take joy in maliciously giving bad votes to the ugly ones. Then we go to our message board of choice and whine about how we’re however-many-years-old virgins, but then try to trump each other on who’s had worse luck with women. We read the posts of others, of guys whose girlfriends cheated on them, and we hold these examples up, try to use them as proof that, yes, all women are whores. Secretly though we are living vicariously through these guys as well, wishing that those cheating girlfriends could be ours for once.

What kind of lives are these? We’re like children. We’re not men.

It was only a few years ago that I was a minor, living in Sherwood Park, and I can say with sincere conviction that my animalistic urges for late night shenanigans has only increased since that time. That’s why I can’t help but feel sympathy for these so-called youngsters with regards to this bylaw, which establishes a curfew for minors between 1am and 6am.

It seems like a cliché at this point, and one that is well known by anyone who has ever also been in this situation, but there is a significant lack of anything for a minor to do in Sherwood Park. My youth was spent playing video games late into the night at a friend’s house, and then wandering home at some time that can only be described as ungodly. I wasn’t drunk, vandalizing, or starting fights, but simply walking home. This wasn’t the only way we found to entertain ourselves, of course, there was also late night bowling or movie-going, followed by marathon donut eating sessions at Tim Horton’s, again concluding with a walk home.

While no one is going to be arrested for going for a 2am walk, parents of the minors breaking the law will be fined $100 for the first offence, and $200 for the second offence. What parents have to do with the night life of their 17 year old children is beyond all realm of understanding for me. At that age, that person would not even be required to go to school anymore, and could legally live on their own. I guess you have to be careful, you never know what those rascally independent teenagers are capable of after picking up their 7-11 bread.

I’m all for parental responsibility, but it seems to me that the best thing a parent could do for their teenage child is give them a little freedom. I probably would have lost my delicate grip on sanity if I had been forced to come home by 1am on weekends, and it certainly would have ended my already very limited physical activity by stopping all those late night walks. It’s also ironic when you consider that this bylaw would not only discriminate against youths, but it would actually impede upon the parenting choices for the adults.

In addition, I am confident in saying that any kind of encounter with the police is a particularly traumatizing event for a lot of people, it certainly is for me, and would have been even more so when I was 17. Under this law, I suppose that as a young looking 21-year-old I’ll have to be wary of age checks myself, an additional impediment this bylaw would create for those of the age of majority.

It would be pointless to break out any statistics on youth crime right now, even if all crime were committed by youth, this bylaw would still infringe upon what should be a right for everyone. Not all minors are breaking existing laws when they go outside past 1am, and so there is no reason to punish all of them for it.

The fact that such a bylaw is even considered indicates that society is still wildly more accepting of ageism, as opposed to other forms of discrimination. If such a law were to be proposed based on sex or race, it would likely inspire militant resistance. I think the next time I’m in a restaurant I will demand my senior’s discount.

A person simply does not need another person to obsessively hack away little bits of their hair; they could shave it off themselves. If I have learned anything from Captain Jean-Luc Picard, it’s that a bald man can get shit done. I’ll admit, it might take me awhile to get used to bald women, but for the sake of humanity, I am willing to make that sacrifice.

While I personally refrain from such treatments as dye, jell, and conditioner, (and have saved myself a lot of money, I might add) thanks to public pressure I have thus far in my life made seldom but consistent trips to that woebegone den of masochism, the hair dresser’s.

The rage which I have experienced visiting this particular business is deep and multi-faceted. Typically, the stylist begins by asking how you want your hair cut, a reasonable enough start I suppose. My answer is always simple and understandable, “same style, only short.” Somehow this is never good enough for the person who supposedly got an education specifically for cutting hair. Inevitably, they demand to know how much hair I would like cut off, in inches. Now, I only have a vague idea of how long an inch actually is, and I certainly don’t know how long my hair is, so a more specific answer I can never give. It seems to me, however, that the hair expert really ought to be the person making these precise decisions. Not knowing the exact dimensions of your hair is apparently quite the insult to someone whose life is devoted to hair, and following this opening altercation my relations with the hair dresser are inevitably strained.

Following this, a person is left to endure what is probably the most uncomfortable session of small talk to take place in the retail world. For 20 minutes, as the hair-cutter makes their way across my head, I have to put up with whatever topic of conversation they may choose, they’re the one holding the sharp object up to my head, after all. Sometimes this is pretty innocuous, though I have been presented with stories of sex parties and descriptions of horrible, personal medical conditions.

It probably comes as no surprise that I typically go to the cheapest hair dresser I can find; still, the low point of the trip always comes at the end, when payment must take place. $14 is too much for a job which consists of haphazardly sheering material down to a randomly determined length in the span of only 20 minutes. I was shocked to learn recently that when my friends visit their even more over priced barbers, they actually tip the person who cut their hair, this is apparently common practice. I truly cannot even begin to grasp this concept, tipping is taking place for what amounts to a round of mental torture and extortion.

It is for all these reasons that I have decided that my recent trip to the hair dresser shall be my last. Next time my hair becomes hideous and unmanageable, I’m just going to buy one of those electric razors with the adjustable settings, and attack the scalp myself. I recommend that for the sake of sanity, and in order to end the maniacal rule of the barber, everyone does the same.

Let me explain. People are lazy, indolent, greedy creatures by nature. Sloth is, in effect, the definition of the human character in 99% of people. This is what causes people to feel the need to shorten everything to an acronym, or to shorten their names from Timothy to just Tim.

This is what also causes people to shorten the phrase “Thank you.” to just an unintelligible sound — “Nks.”

And it fills me completely with an unutterable rage every time some fucking bastard that I just held the door open for barely even manages to grunt in acknowledgement. It makes me die a little inside every time I realize a new way that society has devolved into a completely useless wasteland of ineptitude and more importantly, ingratitude.

The Oprah Effect

People that espouse “empowerment” are largely the cause of this downfall. Empowerment is a bunch of bullshit made up by some very intelligent people that decided that if they made people believe that they had some kind of power over their lives, and the lives of others, that they could then charge gobs and gobs of money for workshops, seminars, and all the other goodies that go along with a good scam.

When people believe that they are empowered to help, control, or otherwise affect the outcome of other people’s lives, this gives in to narcissism. Narcissism leads to contemplating how great you are, which leads you to thinking about how people could be changed by your greatness, which leads you to thinking about how if you could just share your greatness through a book showing how you became so great, and how people could empower themselves….you see where I’m going with this.

Now, how does The Oprah Effect actually tie in to the dreaded “Nks.”? Thusly:

Empowerment leads to
Narcissism leads to
Contemplation of Oneself leads to
Degradation of everything that society(or your father) beat into you as a child leads to
“Nks.” leads to
Me bashing the door closed on your head repeatedly.

How can I prevent a vicious beating you ask? It’s simple. Instead of saying “Thanks”(which inevitably becomes “Nks.”), say “Thank you”. Or surprise me with a shred of intelligence and say something like “Thank you very much” or even “Much obliged”.

Really it comes down to this; if the fucking snake from Harry Potter and the Sorceror’s Stone can say “Thanks”. You fucking can too.

Technological Advances – Transparent Alumina

Usually confused with ‘transparent aluminum‘ first made popular in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, transparent alumina has different properties.

Alumina is actually aluminum oxide, natural examples being rubies or sapphires. When you take alumina in small particles and sinter, or weld, them together at a high temperature it is basically transparent.

Transparent alumina has many startling properties. Being clear, it is the obvious choice to use in armoured vehicles and aircraft. When layers of transparent alumina are stacked and sintered together, and the right polishing techniques are applied, transparent alumina is stronger than steel at the same thickness, and many times stronger than bulletproof glass.

Technological Advances – Pulsed Energy Projectile

The Pulsed Energy Projectile, or PEP, was designed for, and by, the US military as a “less-lethal” weapon.

The PEP works by emitting a laser pulse invisible to the naked eye which, on contact with the target, vapourises a small area in a burst of plasma. This creates a shockwave of EMR that can damage nerve cells, and a burst of sound which can stun the target. It is powerful enough to be lethal if used to kill instead of incapacitate.

The weapon, even in its infancy works from up to 2km away, and is small enough to be mounted on vehicles and helicopters. It weighs in at just over 230kg.

Technological Advances – Commercial Spaceflight

In 2004 enterprising company Scaled Composites made history by making the first civilian sub-orbital spaceflight funded by commercial capital. Doing so they won the Ansari X-Prize and paved the way future voyages into space.

No longer bound in by government institutions that waste billions of dollars a year on a ever-burgeoning bureaucracy, solar-spaceflight could be within reach within our lifetimes. Plans are in the works for two suborbital vessels(the “Virgin SpaceShip” or VSS Enterprise, and the VSS Voyager) to begin carrying passengers over five years, starting in 2007 or 2008. Estimates show they need only 5,000 people willing to pay the $200,000 US pricetag over the five years to show a profit. Let’s hope that they exceed that estimate.

That’s it for this week. I hope to continue with even more examples of technological and societal advances that will prove the Star Trek theory in weeks to come.

Business operations could actually operate with a great deal more pleasantness, if it weren’t for all these pleasantries. Surely, the public transit system would continue to operate without all those announcements of “good morning,” “thank you,” and “have a good day.” I once worked in retail, I know that it’s a lot of effort to try to greet every customer to come into a store, and even if you do manage it, many of them won’t respond. This, again, leaves the greeter feeling dejected and the greeted feeling guilty. Then there is the extended interaction at the till, where one must ask the customer how they’re doing, as if the personal happiness of a complete stranger has any bearing on the life of a video store clerk. The question is often met with an obvious degree of discomfort from the customer anyway, as the customer will inevitably respond to the question “how’s it going?” with the oh-so-inane “it’s going,” or some tiresome opinion on the weather. Not only are these statements heard with unflinching regularity in the retail world, but they are wholly meaningless. There is no way to respond to “it’s going,” and unless my house is being annihilated by the weather, I truly do not give a fuck what it’s like outside. We’ve all seen rain before folks, nothing to passionately bitch about here. For the sanity of everyone working in, or shopping at any kind of store, I propose we eliminate these outdated formalities.

There is a whole world of uncalled for small-talk disguised as manners outside of business as well. It seems as though every conversation begins with “hey, what’s up?” or some variant which could easily be done away with. When two strangers cross each other while on walks, they seem to feel compelled to greet each other or at least smile, which is both unneeded and uncomfortable. Two people who don’t know each other very well will often dance around any topic of any interest, instead sticking to the safety of such topics as their majors, or, yet again, the weather. I myself prefer to launch right into discussions on Star Trek, Nintendo, and hentai. If a person has a problem talking about the things that actually interest you, then there probably isn’t much reason to be talking to them in the first place; fuck formality.

Although many of us may dismiss the ramblings of the old, it must be acknowledged that not all old timers are cracked in the head. Some seem to know what they’re about. For example, those who insist that the young whippersnappers of today have no respect for their elders or for authority are quite on the mark. Kids today are assholes, plain and simple. Gone are the days when ‘no’ meant ‘shut the fuck up before I suffocate you in the McDonald’s ball pit’. Clearly ‘no’ now means the parent who dares defy the child is the worst human alive and deserves to have his or her brains eaten by a bear. The new Beyblade must be purchased at all costs, I spit on all who tell me that I am acting in a socially unacceptable manner! Clearly this type of situation can be avoided through :

• Leaving your fucking kids at home. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? Bringing small children to a store that sells toys and candy is like bringing a pedophile to a store that sells toys and candy. That makes about as much sense as the Amish shopping at Wal-Mart.
  
• Beat your kids…repeatedly. Invent new and interesting ways to instill fear in their young hearts, so they shall never again bother you…ever. They will learn to be grateful for every morsel of food you give them and never ask for anything you are not willing to give them. Tell those little bastards what’s what. Smack you in the face if you don’t be quiet is what’s what.
  
• Oh light bulb over the head moment! Don’t have kids! Nip the problem in the bud before it begins. Holy crap, I must be a fucking genius; this could be the very first time anyone in the history of ever has come up with the idea of NOT having kids, especially if you’re gonna hate them! The world is already overpopulated anyway. Do everyone a favour and stop having kids that will only take up more room, kill more trees, breathe more air, and eat more food. If you absolutely must pass something along to the next generation, how about adopting an existing kid instead of making a new one? You will be helping the poor orphans in god knows what country orphans always come from AND you won’t be contributing to the utter destruction of our world.

Everyone’s so fucked in the head, it’s no wonder that the whole “the world’s going to hell in a hand basket” saying of the elderly is also true. Do you see what we’ve done? Society has acted in a way that confirms all the delusions of seniors!
Having children will lead to countless horrors. They will usher in an era of unparalleled hedonism that will be synonymous with giving god the finger. If we’re all going to hell, then our hand basket will surely be made from poor life choices…and fingernail clippings (because what could be more uncomfortable than riding in a cramped little hand basket with your mistakes and sharp little fingernail clippings).

Speaking of GOING TO HELL, here’s a short list of those who really deserve an extra small hand basket:

• Kids-not just because they’re smaller, but because they are the ones who will cause the world to be consumed by eternal hellfire. GO TO HELL.
  
• Serial killers-those sick fucks should GO STRAIGHT TO HELL.
  
• People who ignore the serving spoons in restaurants and decide to stick their utensils into the food that everyone has to share. Way to go, asshole. Sure I’d love to have your mono, who wouldn’t? GO TO HELL.
  
• Bitchy girls who like to gossip about everyone and everything and won’t stop prying into your personal life for any sort of information they could possibly spread around because their own lives are devoid of all meaning. GO TO HELL.
  
• Everyone else that I hate. I hate you. GO TO HELL.
  

DEAR ABBY: My wife spends all her spare time with a female friend I’ll call “Cassandra.” Last August they went to Nicaragua for two weeks, at Cassandra’s expense. They are planning a trip to Puerto Rico next month. Again, Cassandra is footing the bill. They spent a week together in Louisville at a church-sponsored activity. They give each other oil massages in our bed and make frequent bets with each other with the massages as the payoff.

They spend as much as three hours a day communicating, whether it be via phone, e-mail or text-messaging. They see each other a minimum of once a week, plus at church, and we live 50 miles apart.

When they’re together, I can repeat a question four times or more and never be acknowledged. They make special dinners and buy each other gifts. The items my wife receives are many times what we can afford. When they’re on the phone or e-mailing, dinners have been burned and normal things that should be done around the house don’t get done.

Do you think there is something I should be concerned about here? — WONDERING IN ILLINOIS

Abby’s advice is to talk to your wife about this issue. Good lord. At least Abby has the good sense to guess that this Cassandra is your wife’s girlfriend.

My advice: HOLY FUCKING GOD!!! Should you be concerned?! Should you be fucking concerned?!! Are you on crack?! If you have rats in your house, you should be concerned. If you go bankrupt, you should be concerned. If any part of your body suddenly falls off or explodes in an explosion of exploded stuff, you should damn well be concerned. Wake up and smell the lesbian activity going on under your own roof! Oil massages? In your bed? Think about it! They weren’t even considerate enough to include you!

Here’s what you have to do: Get a frickin divorce! See a lawyer…now. Get as much out of it as possible. That’ll show your cheating wife what’s what…she’s gonna be poor and homeless, is what’s what. Talking to your wife about it, pfffft, what a silly suggestion. You clearly are not important enough for her to even notice if you stabbed yourself in the eye in the kitchen in the middle of breakfast. Talking to her is useless. Good lord, while you’re at it, why don’t you throw her a fucking pride parade? She is too busy cheating on you with her lesbian lover, think about it, let that sink in a bit…Now divorce her and slap that home-wrecking Cassandra bitch in the face.

Oh by the way, and just because your stupidity is annoying, I shall comment on how your “dinners have been burned and normal things that should be done around the house don’t get done”. What normal things? Clearly your wife having sex with you is not one of them. Perhaps if you did things around the house instead of leaving it all for her, she might sex you up instead of turning to her lover. Besides, you have to do these things now, as you will quickly divorce her cheating ass and take house, car, and money with you. She can keep the kids, as you are the victim here and do not deserve to be punished with taking care of whiny, ungrateful children.

Now that I have helped this poor guy fix his life…onward to the next problem! Here is a stupid lady needing advice on something stupid.

DEAR ABBY: When I go to lunch or dinner at a restaurant, I’m confused about where to place my purse or handbag during the meal. What’s the correct thing to do? — CONFUSED IN FLORIDA

Abby’s advice is something or other relating to purses and the such.

My advice: YOU’RE confused?! I’M confused!! Why do you need advice on this?! Are you retarded? Seriously, HOLY CRAP!

Purses are dumb. If you carry a purse, it’s like you are carrying a sign saying “Hey criminals! I currently have on my person a magical bag of goodies for you to steal! Besides minty fresh gum, its contents include unknown amounts of cash, credit cards, AND personal information that can help you steal my identity for your own sick reasons!”
My suggestion is to kill yourself. They don’t have purses in hell. Problem solved.

These are all real letters (edited for length); yes, these poor bastards do really exist outside of my own mind.

I’m a single woman in my 20s who works hard and has friends I like and respect. One of them, however, “Ava,” is making it hard for me to be around her. Ava is 38, never married, has had only one boyfriend in her life, and is very lonely. As a single person, I understand how that can feel.

It has become a daily ritual for her to come over to my desk for one of the following three reasons: (1) to talk about her loneliness and having nothing in her life to look forward to; (2) to borrow change because she has no money for doughnuts, a soda, etc; (3) to rub my back so I’ll feel obligated to rub her shoulders that day. (I don’t ask for the back rub, but I did once — two years ago — and now she thinks we have an unspoken agreement.)

Abby’s advice is to stop giving this woman change and to stop listening to her fucking problems. WEAK.

My (obviously better) advice is as follows, choose one:

-Tell Ava to kill herself. It’s better for her, and more importantly, it’s better for you. Make sure she knows what an unbearable pain in the ass she is; remind her of this fact every time you see her. Tell her that she is indeed a lonely person and that the only cool thing she can look forward to now is death, which would be a sweet sweet relief from her hellish life. Keep in mind that you’re still her friend, and as such, you will be required to help her through this tough time. Offer to do things like buy her the painkillers, it would be rude not to. Or show her where to cut herself so it’s all over that much faster, cuz truthfully, you can’t stand to have her live another minute longer. But remember, it is very important that she makes a will. Help her complete this special task by suggesting yourself to be the sole beneficiary, as it would hurry things along as well as get you lots of awesome monetary assets. It is clear that her death would really be a benefit to you. Do it, do it now. Another second she is alive is another second that you have to deal with her bastardliness while not rolling in the dough from her will.

-Use her wish for change against her. Wave quarters in front of her face then throw them over a bridge. As she is a freeloading bastard, she will go for the money and fall gleefully to her death many centimetres below. There wont even be blood on your hands, as her own idiocy caused her to die horribly. Again, it is essential to ensure that your name appears in her will. Or, if that plan is too hard for you to remember, or if you’re just a rich bastard anyway, forget about the will, or even her death, and just aim for injuring her. Just throw as many pennies at her head as possible. It’ll make you feel better, trust me. Hopefully, she will be so surprised at your brutish behaviour that she takes a good 50 in the head before trying to fight back, but who doesn’t love a spare change fight? Or you could be lacking in all creativity and settle for kicking her in the face. Whatever hurts her and makes you laugh. Or you could even go the other way and give her all the spare change she could want and give her extra donuts everyday, hoping for her to die a grisly obesity induced death. But that one might take awhile. Do you really want to wait for this?

-Be a lesbian. Well, you’re both single and giving each other back rubs anyway. She’s already taking all of your money away from you anyway, it’s like you’re already fucking married for godsakes.

-Just take it. If you’re too much of a wuss to take any of my awesome advice involving killing the annoying woman, you’re beyond help. You are now doomed to a life of helping others and giving money away while being touched by an abhorrent woman, you stupid ass. Congratulations, you lose at life!

Wow, I’m tired after giving out such awesome advice. I guess all those other fools will have to wait until another time to hear my advice. If you are a poor soul searching for answers to life, I will take a few seconds of my time to assist you in finding your way to the true path to happiness. Contact me and prepare to be wowed. It’ll be Awesomeness Supreme in your face!

Disclaimer: We will not be held responsible for any injuries that result from this article, as we do not advocate the use of violence in any form.

I am a nerd. I’ve been a nerd as far back as I can remember. As a child I was bullied at school, I had no friends and spent all my time watching TV and playing with my Lego. Eventually I got into gaming, around the time of the Super Nintendo, I also eventually ended up with some friends. When we were younger my friends and I would play video games, Magic, RISK and Dungeons & Dragons. As young adults, we do all of these things, we do all of these things a hell of a lot. Some things have changed though, we inevitably include alcohol while engaging in these pastimes. We also know a lot more people now, we go out, occasionally have girlfriends, go to bars, “party down,” that sort of thing. I’ve never worn a lampshade on my head, but I think I’m doing pretty good for myself.

All of this seems to be roughly aligned with something else I’ve noticed, gaming is becoming trendy. I’m not talking about the dumbass skaters buying X-Boxen or anything like that. I’m talking about people wearing classic gaming t-shirts involving 1 up Mushrooms and getting tattoos of Pac-Man. I’m talking about things like this amazing review (WRN: may contain images of wanglicious wang), about some kind of gamers dance club for Los Angeles’ trendies. Now it’s probably just me, but the prospect of a place where I can listen to a couple guys going fucking berserk playing remixes of Zelda music, while hitting on gamer chicks with spiky hair and boxy glasses gives me a raging hard-on. That’s why I’m on a mission. To seek out, or if need be start, an underground movement celebrating all that is nerdliness.

I want dance clubs involving dancing, grinding, drinking, all set in Princess Peaches goddamn castle. I imagine drinking out of chalices, or at least being able to order anything a Klingon might drink. The bartender better damn well dress up as Gandalf and the waitresses must wear Samus Aran costumes.

Hasran Ogress, quite the temptress.

I want Magic card battles set in dark cigar smoke-filled rooms. I want to go to a singles club where we all wander around a big D&D dungeon seeking an enchanted box of condoms. We’ll all dress up as medieval characters and perhaps Grishnak the Destroyer will woo Tipsy the Elven Cleric while on his journey. I want RISK matches to be set in grimy bars in Chinatown with a cage around the table and players while hordes of screaming Asian men bet on the winner. Mostly though, I just want a loud raucous way of celebrating all that I have come to obsess over.

I envision my movement to one day be as big as goth or emo or one of those other big high school cliques though, and a cultural movement is about more than partying. There should be clothing stores offering the latest in Magic character fashions. Squee looks damn fine, Hasran Ogress is fucking hot. What about a real music genre dedicated to game soundtracks and remixes, with an actual place in record stores?

I would imagine one day we could be exclusive snobby bastards much like the ones that once shunned us, but for now the nerd movement needs all the help it can get. So yes, you anime nerds, you Everqust geeks, you cosplayers, your Star Wars fanboys, you’re all invited. Take up your Goku wigs, your keyboards, your Sailor Moon skirts, your plastic lightsabers and join me in this most epic and noble quest. Understand of course, that the goal here is not revenge, nor to band together and just multiply our nerdliness together but to actually party the fuck out of Zebes, or Hyrule, or The Mushroom Kingdom, or whatever we come to call our brave new world.

I mean the perfect burger. The epitome of dead cow on a whole wheat bun. If you happen to be on the Atkins diet, why even bother cooking the cow? Just go out into a field and naw on one of those fuckers all night long. You won’t be eating those nasty carbs, and you’ll have all the meat you can eat until it goes rancid and is so full of bacteria you’re growing new lifeforms within its anus.

Of course, knowing Western “culture”, the ensuing weight loss would be attributed to the lack of carbs, not the fact that you just ran out into a field in the middle of the night, tackled a 400lb cow to the ground, tore its throat out with your teeth, and ripped it apart with your bare hands while you feast on it’s raw flesh.

Bunch of savages in this country.

But I digress. If you want the perfect burger, there is but one place which you can go. You all know it. Or you’ve heard about it. Or you’ve heard about hearing about someone hearing about it. That Holy Pilgrimmage of Burger Joint; White Castle.

Now with every Holy Pilgrimmage, there must be shenanigans. Be they the chastisement of all that patron other evil burger joints. Or Cat and Dog Burger of Doom joints as I like to call them. Or just driving around, picking up ladies, and adding them to your list of conquests, which you keep in the glove compartment of your friend’s car, written on a napkin from a Denny’s restaurant.

You also have to have at least one minor infraction of a law. Whether it be jaywalking, petty theft, vandalism, or carbombing those fuckers that cut you off on the offramp. It just isn’t a Holy Pilgrimmage until someone goes to jail, and has to trade cigarettes for a shiv to fight off the rapists.

Of course. You could do all of this. Have an excellent time doing so, and possibly even make it back home to tell the tale. Or you could just go see Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle.

Blah blah blah

How about this weather? In an average day, a normal human being will be forced to associate with a vast array of fellow humans. This could be nothing more than a couple people who share your office, to several hundred family members at a holiday function. Now, it is guaranteed every single one of these people is miserable. Either their wife is cheating on them, or they’re having a mid-life crisis, or their kids are all in jail. Not a single one of them will tell you any of this of course, no, they’d rather talk about the goddamn weather. They’d rather explain to you in excruciating detail the precise amount of snow that fell on their house last night, or the lovely walk they took because of the wonderful sunshine.

Once every facet of every detail of every fact and opinion regarding the weather has been successfully beaten into the ground, a person will move onto even more useless and obvious banter. Things like the taste of the food they’re devouring, or perhaps asking the ever heart felt “how’re you?”

blah blah blah

Whenever I’m not engaged in some form of discussion in public, I tend to be forced to overhear other peoples useless ranting. Typically, I will overhear what can only be the most embarrassingly stupid parts of conversations. I am really, truly hoping that that is what I am always picking up on, because otherwise we might as well call the human race doomed right now. Why children must discuss Super Smash Brothers Melee on the bus, or why fourteen year old girls must have grand tribunals in the middle of the sidewalk regarding how they feel about one another is beyond all power of reasoning. Then there’s the adults, who feel it necessary to talk about every pebble they drove over while traveling to their current location, as well as their most recent bowel movement.

Now I am a man, man is a sexual being. When I see an attractive young lady I tend to have a pretty detailed plan regarding just what I’d rather be doing to her. When a couple guys are together though, they feel the need to comment to one another some of the finer points of the girl’s figure in the most horrible way possible. Comparing certain body parts with terminology or names typically reserved for food such as “ripe” “melons” “hams” “yams” “guacamole” “roast beef.” Man, that shit’s fucked up.

blah blah blah.

Of course, when people run out of things to talk about about other people and things, they develop “relationships.” I’m not just talking about boyfriends and girlfriends, regular friends too. Then they get to talk about how much they love each other, they get to recount little trips they took to the mall two weeks ago like they were goddamn grand treks across unexplored deep space. When that gets dull, they can start meaningless arguments with each other. After all, nothing makes people feel good like getting blasted for tiny habits or accidentally saying something they shouldn’t have. Which really is the whole point, if everybody just quit talking, there’d be no reason to scream at them, thus no screaming.

When a person is actually alone, they like to plop down in front of their television and listen to other people talk. “My hair is shiny because I rub it with seven natural herbs and spices.” “Get flatter abs now!” “Did you hear which overpaid, overrated actor is fucking horses now?” All extremely useful and pertinent information, I am sure. When a human isn’t yammering on about himself, he likes to learn how to become a more normal, shallow human. Yes, you too can have more friends willing to listen to your pointless commentary, if only you looked better! What could you talk about? Why, you could talk about your favourite celebrity gossip, or better yet, you could talk about yourself!

Please, continue to pour forth the eternal honey of your beautiful warbling. I would love to hear about who broke up with who, who might break up with who. Who might be fucking who, which one of them is lusting after which one of those. Yes, it’s dazzling learning the names of every Pokemon in your collection. Oh you don’t say, they changed what time your favourite tv show comes on? And who’d you say your favourite news broadcaster is? Oh wow, I like him too. Haha, I’m getting fat! Oh not you, you look great. Of course no one will notice that grey hair. Why I’d love to see that movie too. Hey, how about this weather?

Silence! Shut the fuck up.

Mari Winsor. Her products have gotten her rich and gotten her some cock.

As I finished listening to The Dandy Warhol’s “Bohemian Like You” for the fourth time in a row, gleefully anticipating the next episode of Daria that I was “acquiring”, and as the memory of having watched Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas just a few hours beforehand still floated in my mind, it hit me. You know, I don’t really do much other than consume media. That thought then led me to the conclusion that I am living in a very peaceful and well off community, in the richest province of a country with one of the best standards of living in the world, and that I was, I am, living the best life that can conceivably be lived. Slowly though, the feeling crept over me that that cannot be true, for I have not been laid.

Staying alive is pretty basic, we eat, we breathe, we shit, we sleep. All any of this does is keep us alive, there has to be a reason to get up every morning, and that reason is fucking. I’m sure that you’ve all heard people say things like “I live for my kids”, “I live for my job”, “I live for crack” well all of those are really just side effects of the one true purpose. People live for their kids because they’ve done the fucking, and now they’re just seeing the fruits of their labor all the way through. People live for their jobs to impress people into believing they’re worthy of sex. People live for crack to get away from not getting enough action.

The human race is doomed. Either we’ll nuke ourselves or the sun will explode or a great alien race will conquer us. We cloud our judgments with religion and “fate” but deep down everybody knows that we’re screwed. All we can do is sit around fucking, hoping that it’ll lead to a solution to this “doom” thing. We’re all engineered to want sex, because sex leads to more people, and the more people there are, the more likely the human species will last another day.

When women do this look it makes them a lot of money.

Somewhere along the way humans figured out ways of preventing pregnancy. Thus sex became a recreational activity for all those horny, and was no longer reserved for the stogy old bastards who had made it into “committed relationships”. It was with these condoms, pills, sponges and dams that everybody went off the blasted deep end and lost their bloody minds. If we can satisfy all the sexual urges we have with only a very minimal risk of ever actually having children, then we have way more time to do all the shit that impresses the opposite sex.

I was playing a few video games recently and thinking about what drove me to spend so much time with them. It’s the sense of accomplishment I get from figuring out puzzles, bashing the hell out of really big monsters, earning cool upgrades and eventually beating the games. I then turned off the TV and saw an info-mercial with a bunch of women sitting around talking about some crazy ass “Winsor-Pilates” workout program. You know, to get those long, lean muscles that give you the sought-after gymnast physique. The point is that guys like gaining as many random abilities as possible because women like guys who can do a lot of useless stuff. Ladies like learning as much as possible about how to look good because guys like ladies who look good.

With pregnancy removed from the act of sex it has come to a point where this is all most people do anymore. We sit gobbling down mass entertainment, filling our brains with unfathomable amounts of useless information. Sometimes we’re hoping we will find that one tiny fact that will make us rich, famous, and physically attractive. Trying to grasp some kind of singular morsel of fact that will lead us to the path of sexual fulfillment. Other times we’re just trying to escape reality, our cramped personal hells.

Occasionally you’ll have someone escape from this dull life. Some guys will create the most popular operating system for personal computers, or walk on the moon, or sing a few songs in front of a crowd, and man do those guys get a lot of pussy. A girl or two will be born with incredibly huge tits, or she’ll figure out how to do a come-hither look in front of a camera and man do those chicks get a lot of cock.

We’re all in a big race, hoping to get ahead of the crowd, thinking it will get us noticed and therefore nailed.

For New Years Eve Neil, Ryan, and Curtis (me) decided to drive down to Calgary for a Captain Tractor concert and a night of Drinking. Here are some pictures from our trip.

Finally we were on that long three hour drive to Calgary.

One of our fellow travellers gave us this advice.

An hour and a half later, we arrived.

An average person living in Calgary.

Our Hotel Room

The fine room in which we were spending the night.

The washroom before we made use of it.

What is New Years Eve without a fully stocked fridge of beer and a three litre bottle of Champaign?

To The Bar We Go

Neil and I raise a glass of beer, and the lady behind us tries to get in on the action.

The Alex Murdoch band starts the night off.

I show Ryan and Neil how to really drink a beer….by the pitcher!

Not to be out done, Neil joins in.

After the first band I thought it didn’t look that hard so I went up and sang a tune of my own.

Neil and Ryan expressing their great love of my singing!

After my awesome performance, I got kicked off the stage and Captain Tractor took the stage and put on a great performance, as always.

Ryan dances the night away.

The Wendy’s Part O’ Town

At some point on the walk back to the hotel we got seperated. When whoever took this picture showed up, Neil was there to greet them.

I relax in the corner trying not to fall over.

What do you do with an ice machine? That’s right, you try and fill up the bath tub with ice. It’s weird having shower in a bathtub of ice, your feet are so cold, but the rest of you is so warm.

The ice gets thrown across the room.

Ginger beef makes an excellent snack in the middle of the night. This piece tried to escape it’s death.

The Next Morning

The room.

The washroom after we have been through with it.

Ryan enjoys a beer and sub for breakfast..

A stain. Presumed to be from the beef.

I find the set list for The Captain in my wallet. It was perfectly folded up and placed in my wallet. I don’t know how it got there. And it was folded too neatly for me to of folded it.

A good time was had by all!

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/new-years-eve.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/i-am-going-through-menopause.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/i-am-going-through-menopause.php#comments Mon, 02 Feb 2004 20:45:55 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1119
I plan on looking exactly like this.

That’s right, a 19 year old male is going through menopause. How, may you ask, is this possible? Well, I’ve been on extensive gene therapy lately in an effort to turn myself female. The idea was, if I was female, I could probably convince myself to have sex with myself. Turns out I found myself too perverted, creepy and puny to fuck so that didn’t work out, and now I’m dealing with all the side effects of menopause as well as the male “mid-life crisis” in rapid succession. I can handle the hot flashes and the viagra but trying to act like a trend-setting 10 year old is tough.

When I was 10, I remember being quite the social outcast. I was relegated to wander the playground in solitude while all the cool kids who could do things like ride bikes, play sports and swim went off and did all that wacky physical stuff. Now, at the ripe old age of 19, I reflect upon my early years and try to figure out just what drove me to refuse to learn how to actually do any of this stuff. I believe at the time I had a theory that physical activity existed solely to separate intelligent people from the roaming horde of stupidity on earth. I felt that the only reason to gain the ability to do something like ride a bike was so that a person could follow around the cool people. In other words, I planned on succeeding all my peers by using my time to ponder the meaning of life, the universe and everything instead of wasting it on “skating” or “soccer”.

When I learn how to swim all the pool ladies like this one will be all over me.

Now though, as a 19 year old man 45 year old woman I am trying find some of the youthful vitality that I never had. I have killed enough brain cells drinking to consider myself one of the roaming horde of stupidity and can at last join them in their quest to waste their lives sweating and breathing heavily. I’ve also gotten it inside my head that the only way I will actually get laid is if I start developing some of these normal-people skills to impress the ladies with. When I told myself I was too puny to fuck myself, I decided it might be worth a shot to try this stuff out.

Step 1: Become a Raging Ball of Muscle
I have been called the scrawniest man alive by every nation on earth, and it’s time I was able to flex my man meat at parties and have women throw themselves at me. Not only that, but if I get strong enough, I think I’ll be able to start competing with my friends when we go out for the occasional bit of basketball or soccer. It is there, where showing off my impressive physical prowess will surely win me some women. I am beginning a regiment of late night supreme upper body strength building and will soon crush you all.

Step 2: Learn How to Swim
This is really just a filler. In my corner of the planet it’s winter right now and I am unable to go out and figure out that bike thing, so this swimming will have to do. I figure I can find some ladies to teach me how to swim, which will be great in many different ways. I can’t wear my glasses when I go swimming, but I can see well enough without them to enjoy the ladies in their swimming gear. They don’t know this of course, so I can flail my arms around and accidentally grope them a fair amount as well.

This old man and his bitch are together because of biking.

Step 3: Learn How to Ride a Bike
Nothing in the cold vastness of the universe has earned me so much scorn as my inability to ride a bicycle. Bikes are probably the most used form of transportation on Earth, and I have been ridiculed by almost every person here. If you’ve met me, I have surely told you about the summer I learned how to ride a bike. Yes… there was a time when I could pilot a bike, but I didn’t bother to keep up with it, and I soon forgot how to ride a bicycle. Now, however, I realize the freedom and mobility a bike can provide with regards to picking up chicks, so I want to learn again. It will be a long time before I can start driving, so for now a bike will have to do. By this point I’ll have already become some sort of man-beast inferno so any little bastards who try to mock my education will be pummeled thoroughly.

If all this talk about me sweating and bending and groaning has aroused you at all, feel free to contact me. I’m pretty aroused by the thought of that sexy piece of flesh doing all that stuff, and I’m still in that TRANNY SURPRISE phase of being a woman.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/i-am-going-through-menopause.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-best-laid-plans-of-mice-and-men.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-best-laid-plans-of-mice-and-men.php#comments Sat, 24 Jan 2004 20:43:16 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1117
For writing down my deep thoughts.

In a recent bout of writers block, I decided to seek advice from one of my many female relations and she responded “how/why guys are so weird, their secret little motives and devious insane little plots.” I’m not entirely sure what she really means by this, but I suspect it has something to do with why we always try to take over the world, build huge collections of useless junk or nail two chicks at the same time. In any case, I’ll attempt to unravel all of these mysteries as I explore my inner man. Obviously, I am a perfect male specimen and that for whatever reason I do anything is the same for all guys.

This whole taking over the world thing is still pretty much my number one goal in life. Yes, there are a lot of smaller goals I have along the way but it is truly why I get up in the morning. The way I see it, everybody on the planet is running around and fucking up A LOT. I mean come on, Disney makes way too many cheap sequels to their classic movies, everybody should just be allowed to marry whoever or whatever they want. Maybe we should just do away with marriage altogether and get rid of all these costly divorce hearings! We can all drink away our brain cells and cough up our lungs, but god forbid anybody smoke a little pot. No, we all have to live by outdated systems and rules. The news is filled by morons competing with each other over votes. What nobody seems to realize is that all everybody is doing is wasting time with a slow, bulky system which inevitably ends up electing somebody who’s going to do just about jack shit. Not that it matters anyway, even the people at the very top can’t really make any major affect on anything because they’re so tied down by “checks and balances” or the following of traditions.

I have stacks of toothpicks and toothpick-related gear.

This is where I come in. If I were simply given leadership over the whole of the planet, with full loyalty from all the smaller forms of government as well as the planet’s military, I could really mix some stuff up. Take Wal~Mart out of business, possibly end world hunger, force Nintendo to make a Pokemon massively multiplayer online role playing game, we’d really have something there.

This leads me to my next point. Even though I could do whatever I wanted to as ruler of the world, there are some things I find so important that I try to accomplish them in tandem with my larger goal. Something of a life long task, collecting stock piles of what some may call “worthless junk” is a particular passion of mine. Females in particular just do not understand how necessary it is to have the gold edition of every single Legend of Zelda game ever made, COME ON THAT WOULD BE AWESOME, that’s why guys do it. It’s not to impress other people, it’s just a primal urge to have the complete set of something. Seriously, games are much more fun when you own a very limited version of them and they’re gold! The biggest reason I have for collecting junk is that it’s proof that I have been certain places and done certain things. If you take five toothpicks every time you go to a restaurant and save them somewhere, then if you ever need to know how many times you’ve eaten out, that can be calculated. Along with toothpicks and video games, I have a lot of pencils. I mean special fancy pencils which I’ve gotten from trade shows, as special event give aways and various teachers who wanted to reward a fine student. Every time I look at my pencil collection I get to relive lots of great memories from my past like reading the third most books in my class during a grade two competition. Besides, in emergency situations, it’s just nice to have this stuff. If you ever get something stuck in your teeth, come to me ladies.

Hell yeah, I’m doin’ good with these.

I know I said earlier that my ultimate goal in life is to become ruler of the world, but I could definitely die happy knowing I had gotten a female-female-male threesome at some point. First off, the mere thought of two attractive females kissing is unbelievably hot. Having them grope each other then nailing them both at the same time would be utter bliss. I have no plans of having those icky things known as children so I’m not just trying to “hit two birds with one stone.” Well, I suppose I am if by birds I mean chicks and stone I mean cock, but I digress. It probably is about bragging rights to some degree with this one, but there’s no question I’d do it even I could never tell anyone ever. It’s more about satisfaction. Nobody actually knows if I could manage to satisfy even one woman, but if I could satisfy two, that’d be pretty cool, and I know for a fact that two women would sure as hell satisfy me.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-best-laid-plans-of-mice-and-men.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/childhood-mysteries-solved.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/childhood-mysteries-solved.php#comments Fri, 09 Jan 2004 20:37:14 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1114 As a youngster there were many things that baffled and confused me. If you’re in the business of educating the youth of the nation or looking to raise your kids properly, please read to them this article as I will clarify a few of the mysteries and misconceptions I had as a child.

Yes, this terrible deformity really is caused by sex.

What the hell will I look like when I’m 19?

Ah, there’s something I often lay awake wondering about. I could just never quite grasp aging and how it would affect me. Well kids, I have determined that the process of aging has done nothing to me but made me slightly taller, made my dick bigger, and forced me to constantly remove hair which sprouts from my face. Essentially, don’t worry about getting old until you’re ohh… thirty, at which point your face will start to melt and your hair turn grey and possibly fall out. If you’re female, you’ll get big ugly wrinkles on your face and your tits will start to sag. By the time a guy is forty, his body will be nothing more than a hairy gray lump, particularly plump around the middle, and will be unable to move unless physically rolled along by his children. By forty, a woman’s tits will completely melt off and her vagina will devour itself in a horrible act called menopause, her face will also cave-in entirely.

Wow, it must have taken a really big bomb to break up the Soviet Union.

If you’re young, you’re probably also stupid and won’t know what the Soviet Union is, that’s okay really, most of the people my age don’t either. All you really need to know is that once upon a time it was a very large country and that at some point everybody that lived there decided they wanted to be their own country, so it was divided into different sections. See, huge land masses just plain cannot be broken apart into islands. The earth could be struck by a large meteor and be broken up into chunks which would shoot off into space and probably be burned up by the sun and we’d all die a horrible death, but that hasn’t happened, not yet anyway. Like I was saying, countries just get divided up by invisible lines and nobody is allowed to walk over these invisible lines or they get shot, or tortured and then shot. If you’re looking to escape the terrible pain of whatever super diseases are around when you’re an adult, it’s a good idea to try to go to another country, because they’ll kill you without mercy.

Former President of the US, never Prime Minister of Canada.

What the fuck is sex?

Look, it has nothing to do with marriage, so don’t think your parents can’t cheat on each other. Basically, sex is the act of a male inserting his penis into a woman’s vagina, then writhing around on top of her for awhile until he ejaculates inside of her. This ejaculate contains sperm, which will use their time inside a woman to fertilize one of her eggs, which eventually grow into babies. In case you’re wondering, these are in fact the same eggs which you eat all the time. You are a cannibal and you disgust me. Don’t worry about this sex thing too much, you’re almost certain to not have it. By the way, your parents probably had sex for you to exist.

I want George Bush to stay the President of Canada.

Every four years the country of the United States has an election where a bunch of adults vote on who the want to lead their nation, George Bush was once one of these leaders. The vote only affects Canada with regards to how badly their President fucks over our economy and environment. The person is only in a very general way the ruler of Canada. The official leader of Canada is known as a Prime Minister, who is also chosen by a bunch of adults about every four years. This group of adults is referred to as “the Liberal Party.”

How can anyone who masturbates live with themselves?

Don’t let the authorities fool ya kid, masturbation is about the best life gets and is not at all shameful. I know teachers are saying things to you like “I guess it’s all right for you to do it now, but in a few years you’ll be expected to share the experience with someone else in the form of sex.” You’re one step ahead of them though, since I’ve taught you that you’ll never have sex, so it doesn’t matter if jerk off ten times a day. Don’t be afraid to look at porn on the internet to enhance the experience either, your parents won’t catch you, whatever they say. You won’t get hairy palms from doing it and the only way you’ll go blind is if you manage to jizz in your eye.

That’s about everything I didn’t understand as a child that I have any better grasp of now. I hope that I have cleared up a few things for you all today.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/childhood-mysteries-solved.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/evil-mart.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/evil-mart.php#comments Sat, 11 Oct 2003 06:35:34 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1215 Some years ago that behemoth of American trailer park culture, Wal~Mart, purchased 122 Woolco stores in Canada and thus began it’s infestation of my nation. Since then it has managed to mercilessly shred many great Canadian retailers, large chains and small independent stores the same. Using its monopoly Wal~Mart has been able to gain the favor of consumers across Canada and squeeze from us the last remnants of our national identity as well as anything which could possibly be construed as money.

Wal~Mart’s business strategies are not difficult to understand. They move into a town, drive away or buy out all competition and force everyone they just made unemployed to work for them for greatly reduced wages. With no competition Wal~Mart is then able force everyone in the town to purchase whatever particular brands the company has decided we all should own. Ironically, this includes the Wal~Mart employees, who’s entire wages only cover the living essentials, all exclusively available at… wait for it… Wal~Mart! It’s like free fucking labor, or as I like to call it “slave labor.” Interestingly enough, Wal~Mart was founded by a man from the southern United States, probably a Confederate, who’s business practices were inspired by his hero’s, the cotton farmers, who owned many slaves and worked them to death for cotton.

A Confederate, and founder of Wal~Mart.

There are few people on this planet qualified for organizing and carrying out a war upon the largest corporation on the planet, but I feel I am the one to lead this revolution! The mastermind behind such campaigns as “kill the International Bastards” and “kill Bill Gates and his X-Box” returns to fight the greatest of all fights. As I am a true humanitarian, I can never sit idle while this evil is left unchecked. While spies, of which I have many, are very useful in gaining information about my foe, it is the common man who’s aid I reacquire. You, yes you, the average person who reads my website must start up a local chapter and help bring down the mighty beast, store by store. Once you have opened up a local “kill Wal~Mart” chapter there are but three steps you must follow as a group to destroy this scourge. I can’t take all the credit for this plan, much of it was devised by fellow Shufflingdead staff-member DMUSER, but he’s too lazy to ever actually write anything.

Step 1: Preparation
Everything needs to be just right for this truly ingenious plot to work. You’re going to need 40 costumes of that yellow smiley face guy and 30 little boy costumes with gigantic lollipops and beanies. You’ll also need to print thousands of fake ads and flyers advertising incredible Boxing day sales, I’m talking about things like “90% off all Olson twins merchandise” and other impossible prices. Distribute these everywhere in your town in the days leading up to Boxing day.

What your “child agents” should look like.

Step 2: Code Adam
The most important thing that my Wal~Mart spies have taught me is that the code for a lost child is “Code Adam.” On boxing day send in the 40 men and women you have selected to wear the smiley face costumes, don’t send them in wearing their costumes, just make sure they’ve got those with them in suitcases or other carrying devices. At the same time, send in the 30 agents you’ve selected to wear the little boy costumes, these operators should be already wearing their costumes. Have the smiley agents high-jack the many telephones located around your Wal~Mart and have them announce “Code Adam” in various departments around the store. The Wal~Mart associates will then begin looking for these so called “lost children” which is when your child agents must strike down the enemy! Using their gigantic lollipops have the child agents brutally attack and mutilate the Wal~Mart associates.

Step 3: Slash Prices
With the Wal~Mart associates out of the way, your smiley face agents must quickly put on their costumes and begin switching the prices of as many products in the store as they can. The throngs of customers, already angered by the false advertising which they’ve been seeing the last few days and lack of service from the recently maimed Wal~Mart associates, will lose all control when they find gigantic smilies running around and changing all the prices in the store and will soon begin rioting. They will simply steal all that they can, and with a little luck, even set the store on fire.

Wal~Mart will be driven from Canada forever as its stores crash and burn and all of its assets are lost. A glorious return to decent retailers like grand old Zellers will occur and all will be right with the Canadian economy again. Gimmie a squiggle, bitch.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/evil-mart.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/normal-people-conversations.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/normal-people-conversations.php#comments Fri, 29 Aug 2003 20:34:02 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1112 Over the past few months I have, to the horror of many, gotten myself a job, and, to the horror of even more, started regularly meeting with an expanded group of peers. These two factors have caused me to become suddenly exposed to the whopping three different conversations which normal humans participate in.

The “How’s it going?” conversation
The “How’s it going?” conversation takes place between a merchant and his customer when the customer has decided upon his purchase and has approached the merchant to make the purchase. The eternally smiling and joyous merchant is forced to pretend he is glad to see the customer and must make some sort “small talk” with the customer as he enters the purchase into the computer. Imagine now an obese middle aged woman has decided she will buy her obese son an overrated action movie from the eighties, and has handed it over to the guy at the till, the following conversation is doomed to take place unto the cracking of the world:

merchant: Hi there, how’s it going?
customer: Not too bad, how about yourself?
merchant: Not bad
customer: Good

At this point the merchant has entered the purchase into the computer and is ready for the customer to pay up:

merchant: Your total is $21.99
customer: What the fuck, there goes the big evil corporation trying to drain me of every penny. Let me see, I think I have the change for you.

The customer proceeds to dig around in her purse for a good ten minutes while a line of future customers steadily grows behind them. Until they finally settle for giving the merchant a $100 bill, and two loonies. The rest of the transaction takes place in utter silence until the customer is leaving, which is when the merchant must pass down the customer’s orders from on high to “have a great day!”

A bunch of guys getting ready to see who can be the most boring.

The “Working hard or hardly working?” conversation
The second of the work place conversation. This one takes place when a middle aged man sees one of his kids or the friend of one of his kids working. It goes a little something like this:

middle age man: working hard or hardly working? AHAHAHAHAHAHA-LKJDASHCFPVISHB I am the king of comedy!
kid: ha ha, uh yeah, just working
middle age man: ayup

The “So what are you up to these days?” conversation
This is by far the most annoying conversation that has ever been conversed. Above all others in all of history, this conversation wins for sheer horror.

guy 1: Hey guy, what’re you up to these days?
guy 2: Ah, just working
guy 3: Cool man, cool *cracks open beer*
guy 1: Yeah man where at?
guy 2: Super Huge Deadly factory of Doom Company, yeah I make $5 trillion dollar’s an hour and work 800 hours a week
guy 2: Sweet, I’m over at incredibly massive factory of death company over on 35th you know, make about the same. How about you guy number three?
guy 3: Uhh… I make $6.35 working at Super Duper Video Store
guy 1: fag
guy 2: gaaay

Somehow this is the only conversation anyone over the age of 18 not currently attending post-secondary education is able to have. The purpose of this conversation is entirely lost to me. Nobody’s going to laugh during it, no one is going to get any information out of it, it’s just absolutely mindless talk. It saddens me, it’s like between the time these guys graduated and now they have lost all sense of creativity. They have lost there way, where once was masturbation horror stories and beautiful angst there is nothing but money, money earned in the most terrible of ways, through hard work. That’s another thing that bothers me, they’ve gained this wretched thing called “pride.” They no longer believe in getting money from their parents, they shun dreams of becoming wealthy through enjoyable means. It seems to me these are also just the first amongst those my age to reach this stage, once everyone has completed their education there will be no such thing as humor. Just a pack of workaholics, who will talk about things like “the daily grind” and will have conversations titled things like “I’m getting old.”

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/normal-people-conversations.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-sad-sad-tale-of-00baby.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-sad-sad-tale-of-00baby.php#comments Tue, 19 Aug 2003 06:41:25 +0000 apocalyptic_girl http://shufflingdead.com/?p=618

Unbeknownst to many, I am a spy. For this investigation, I had to infiltrate Bev Facey High. As a recent graduate from Salisbury, It was my sworn duty to get the “doodie” on this freakish hellhole of upgrading my grade 12 marks…

Stage 13

First things first: I had to play it cool. So I joined an art class, so I could fit in. Little did I know I had made an enemy already. It was up to me to find out who had stolen Sal’s championships year after year, and soon very soon I found out why…

After catching a sleeping guard on duty I noticed that the art on the wall had a cryptic message. It said “Use the for—”. I knew then and there that the message was sabotaged so I couldn’t reveal the mystery of Facey’s steroid ridden athletes…

So I looked at the security camera and told it to fuck off. It was the only thing I could think of at the time. Oooh I look pissed off.

More and more spies came to spy on me. Look at these two. Acting all calm and cool and collected. Pfft, they don’t fool me for a minute. Wankers…

Then they sent out the super scary smiley spies. The bright yellow sweater blinded me partially and sent me into a spinning oblivion of retina surgery. Youch.

Then they sent out a clone, and another decoy. This was really starting to throw me off. Look they try to look happy in order to give me the illusion of “having a good time at school, education is fun, everyone else is doing it.”

* Bam * I was transported back into the art room where I was attacked by a spiky punk, who threw her collar at me. I suffered major puncture wounds and after patching myself up, went back for more. I’m a sucker for torture…

And then this chap showed up. He looked all innocent and nice but then…

He jabbed me with some sort of jabby tool. After he told me the real truth about facey. You see, Facey was a school for indoctrination of the youth, the sports propaganda and free steroid lunches every day were to help support the athletes, which is why the art department never had any cool supplies. They were secretly training the youths to overthrow the world with their rugby teams and basketball teams, and any other teams. Well, I had a surprise for him… boy howdy did I ever.

I took one last glance at the art class, and decided on one thing. I must destroy Bev Facey and everything it stands for. Once and for all.

Using my super disco-karate-inferno attack I finally did it. I got rid of that hellhole for good. And to celebrate…

I did a little jig. The end.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-sad-sad-tale-of-00baby.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-plans-of-one-creator-of-society.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-plans-of-one-creator-of-society.php#comments Sat, 26 Jul 2003 06:33:15 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1211 Last night an incredibly hot and entirely naked girl showed up at my front door with a rather embarrassed look on her face. She explained she had been masturbating with some sort of ultra high tech dildo in front of my house, but had lost control of it and it had flown over my house, and probably ended up in my back yard. So we went back there to look for the thing and found a hole in the middle of the yard. Thinking the thing had burrowed itself into the ground we decided to dig. The girl, still somewhat aroused, ended up getting distracted and using the shovel handle as a pleasure device. I continued to dig, and after about half an hour found not only the dildo, which was still in perfect working order, but also a large treasure chest.

Canadians.

I opened the chest, which was obviously pirate in nature, and discovered many gold Aztec coins. Knowing the coins were probably cursed I avoided taking those, but instead dug around inside the chest to discover some odd papers. The girl, obviously not a master of self control, grabbed some of the coins and promptly turned into a zombie and began shuffling around (it is from this experience from which the name shufflingdead.com comes). The important thing here is that those papers turned out to be a speech of the man who created Canada. For your reading pleasure I now present to you those plans:

People of Canada, I am your creator, bow before me!! After many sleepless nights in my secret lair I have finally decided how you shall all live!

To start things off I have determined our country will be placed right alongside the United States. I have kindly asked the US, and they have agreed, to screw you over on every possible occasion and to degrade you constantly. This will teach Canadians to be humble, so that they may also be screwed over by everyone else in the world. The purpose of all of this, of course, is to keep people from investigating Canadian life. The more people who believe we live in igloos and eat seals the better. The terrible secret that we’re pretty much like everyone else must never be revealed!

I have decided that you’ll be forced to pay 50% taxes on everything you earn. You’ll also pay 7% taxes on everything you buy, because the act of just buying things and contributing to the economy isn’t enough to keep our gigantic bureaucracy running smoothly. Any and all money you might have left over after a hard day of working you must spend the next morning on coffee and donuts at a place called Tim Horton’s! MWHAHAHAHA!

More Canadians.

The act of actually getting a job must be as difficult as possible. For a person to get their first job they must apply on hundreds of jobs, get turned down on all of them because they don’t have any experience and then either, get their parents to pull some strings and get them a job or suck a lot of corporate dick. The minimum wage, however, will be so low no person could ever possibly live on it.

The whole purpose of minimum wage jobs is for people in high school, desperate for cash, to do all the jobs nobody else wants to do. We don’t actually tell the kids this though, we tell them they’re working to save up for… POST SECONDARY EDUCATION! MUHUHAHAHAHA!!! All education before post-secondary will be cheap as hell so that we can adequately brain wash everyone into believing all of Canadian identity is represented by a beer can, but then we jack up the prices for education that actually does anything. No human could ever live so cheaply that they could actually save enough for post secondary education though, and everyone will eventually be forced to just take out loans to go to school. It is only after going through post secondary education that a person can actually get a job they can live off of.

The sheer complexity of earning money will keep a good chunk of the population on the streets, which is also part of my design. You see, I really don’t like cleaning my car windows, so we attach rags to all the homeless people and get them to clean everybody’s car windows. We’ll have to make health care public, so that my legions of homeless people don’t die all the time, but that’s all right, I’m sure that won’t be too much of a burden on tax payers. EEH HE GHEGHEGHGEH! WHAHAHAHAHA!! AAAAAAHHAHAHAHA!

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-plans-of-one-creator-of-society.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-new-high-school-cliques.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-new-high-school-cliques.php#comments Tue, 05 Nov 2002 06:30:57 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1207 Anybody who’s seen “Grease” knows that once upon a time, after that war, then before that other one, there were only three “cliques” in high school, they were: greasers, preppies and nerds. The groups were divided 48% greasers, 48% preppies and 4% nerds. The preppies and the greasers were almost constantly at war with each other but occasionally united to keep nerds in their place.

Quite often the older generations of this world still imagine high school to be divided this way, but as I have stayed on another semester at high school to research such matters I know for a fact that this is false. It would seem that over the years the nerds grew tremendously and gobbled up a great many people from the other groups, then split off into dozens of sub groups. At some undefined point in the future I shall construct for you the great spectrum of folk that now populate our high schools, but for now I will describe a few of them for you in painful detail.

Lavigne is such a rebel she doesn’t even need make-up to be hot.

It seems like only yesterday that a girl of only 17 “broke onto the music scene” with a song entitled “Hit Me Baby One More Time,” the song gave the girl incredible popularity and spawned an entire generation of whorish little girls obsessed with glitter and small clothes. Well all those little girls once obsessed with Britney Spears hit their rebellious years but months ago and as their first act of treachery defied their hero by changing their taste in music. Lo and behold, MTV had just what they were looking for with the likes of Avril Lavigne and shoved her not-quite sugar sweet, not-quite written by dirty old man lyrics down their collective throats, thus was born the I’m Punk Just Like Avril Lavigne girls.

I’m Punk Just Like Avril Lavigne girls are aware of only two things, that wearing a tie around your neck makes you unique and a rebel, and that Ms. Lavigne is a true and noble musician who represents all that is rebellion.

Emo

Emo is a trendy way of life which began only a couple years ago and is about one thing: angst. Everything about being emo is based on the fact that living in suburbia is the worst hell in the world and that not being able to get a girlfriend is worse than starvation, violence, war and AIDS.

Emo is largely defined by its music, I’m pretty sure that’s even how emo got started. Emo bands consist of three or four guys playing various musical instruments while the lead singer/guitarist beats on his guitar to generate a sustained wining screeching sound which is nicely complimented by the sustained wining and screeching sound pouring from his mouth. Emo songs ignore the popular topics of anarchism and drugs and instead revolve entirely around being lonely. This music is epitomized by the band Dashboard Confessional.

To be emo one can not simply be lonely, however this is the first step in becoming emo. Once a person arrives at the age of 15 he finds himself confused by the rush of blood to his penile region and begins a long and winding road of sexual exploration, resulting in many infatuations, break-ups and other things which a youngster will find devastating. As a reaction to said events, the lad buys himself a pair of thick, dark rimmed glasses, quits brushing his hair and shaving and thus becomes emo.

Power to the individuals in cults!

For a very long while I had wondered why I would see people in my school lurching about with big black X’s drawn on the back of their hands and very recently I discovered just what all of this was about. It would seem that a group of our nation’s youth has decided the once highly touted acts of smoking, drinking, drug use and consuming of meats is for fools and has decided to swear off such activities. You might be thinking that these would just be your regular religious zealots but nay, they still love the cock, not to mention loud and raucous music.

I don’t know much about these “Straight Edger”‘s (sXe for short) music, but I do know that any band that has X’s on either side of its name and sings things like “beer is for fags, get your confidence by belonging to a cult” is probably a Straight Edge band. These bands are usually fairly “punkish” but its fans do not “mosh” as with the punks, but instead stand in rows and swing their clenched fists in a unified motion and ooze irony from every pore.

Frighteningly enough this is only a fraction of all the groups now roaming high schools. I would like to thank all the oldbies who still think there are only three kinds of people in high school for raising kids so screwed up they need to rebel by wearing unslutty clothes, cry when they masturbate and escape their problems by not drinking.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-new-high-school-cliques.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-breaking-of-the-fellowship.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-breaking-of-the-fellowship.php#comments Sat, 10 Aug 2002 06:29:19 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1204 It seems like only yesterday that I wrote an article slamming an evil organization called the International Baccalaureate cult. It was a horrifying group who struck terror into the hearts of teachers and students alike. Then suddenly, in a flash of brilliant obviousness I realized something, there is no more IB! That’s right, not only did I graduate, so did those IB’s! Their fellowship has been disbanded, only small clusters of their once proud society remain.

“I wonder what will be happening to all those wacky IB’s!” you probably just exclaimed. Well I’ll tell you the only way I know how, by making a list with funny faces!

---

The Evil Couple Who Ruled the IB’s
As everyone knows, anyone who was popular in high school ends up picking up garbage using one of those poky sticks, and anyone who was unpopular ends up inventing ingenious devices which alow you to communication through a phone line without actually using the phone (for the purpose of making it easier to ask out IB girls, of course). Obviously, someone who was an actual group leader in high school who had the ability to have people killed on a whim and probably managed to get laid at least once, will end up cleaning office windows with their tongue.

---

Ladies From the Harem
Perhaps the most memorable group in the IB organization is the harem of young ladies who would seduce me with their strange obsessions of things like Full House and yet still manage to be aware of the future of “cool stuff” far in advance. For example, the harems ladies would have had their rooms plastered in Steve Irwin posters in 1996 and been listening to The Village People in 1884. The ladies are headed off to University now, where they will slowly become less trendy and eventually end up as cold hearted CEO’s.

---

The Lynch Mob
Congratulations lynch mobsters, your destiny is to become a homeless alcoholic bum and die fighting an alley cat. Lucky for you, you’ll be so inebriated you’ll think you’re valiantly attacking someone who threatened your precious IB queen.

---

That Punk Who Always Beats Me at Video Games
Take over the planet.

---

It may be true that another “fresh batch” of young IB’s will be arriving at the high school most shortly but unfortunately for the majority of human society I will take them all under my wing and teach them the way life was meant to be lived. You see, while all those suckers who finished with 96% averages are off to University, I’m taking my time and making sure there isn’t someone from my high school who I didn’t harass enough. This means I’ll have plenty of time to carefully instruct the future “movers and shakers” of our planet on things like how to kill Gannon, the proper method of masturbation and how important is to have more mp3′s than all your friends.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-breaking-of-the-fellowship.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/see-ya-ladder-chef-torte-charley-boy-trebeky.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/see-ya-ladder-chef-torte-charley-boy-trebeky.php#comments Mon, 01 Jul 2002 06:26:59 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1200 The Magic Reflection Pool of My Brain

Hiroshi Yamauchi, former president of Nintendo, provided me with the “good stuff.”

That’s right, the elusive web master who runs this deliciously delectable piece of the internet has graduated. I shall now talk about myself for awhile, as it makes me feel old and wise.

It’s been 12 long, arduous years since first I entered that little brick building where all my dreams would be crushed and my life molded into something sort of close to almost normal. Who could have guessed that I would have made great accomplishments like updating a website almost every week, beaten Super Mario RPG at least twenty times, worn virtually the same thing every single day, or, the greatest of all my feats, received a “Certificate of Participation” from Fitness Canada.

Of course, not everything would turn out to be an amazing achievement, there were disappointments as well. I have yet to take over the world, as I once imagined would be quite easy, sexual intercourse eludes both my grasp and massive tongue, and I don’t own a copy of every single Legend of Zelda game ever produced.

Through it all though, a double jointed thumb, a funny little jig, a trusty Nintendo console, and a gang of misfits and rapscallions have all stayed with me, accompanying me through the “trials and tribulations” of grade school in Western Canadian suburbia.

The Only Reason Anybody Graduates

A raging Grad party.

Endless struggle, pain and suffering, everything feels completely worth it thanks to one night of insanity. I will now tell you how a grad night should go.

No “Grad party” should ever be planned. To begin a proper Grad party, you and your gang of hooligans should run around inviting everyone they know to a random persons house right when everybody’s ready to go home or to other “planned” parties. Upon arriving at the so called “little shop of horrors” everyone should pool together all of their hard earned moneys and or pre bought alcoholic beverages so as to supply maximum drunken sex machines. This is the only tool you will need, besides masses of people, to get a party going.

It is likely that your party will start out slowly. At first only you and your close nit clan will be around to destroy brain cells, do not fret! While some less intelligent fellows may leave early out of boredom or the need to work the next morning, you must remain! After awhile great masses of drunken women and their hair dresser deprived boyfriends will arrive. Droves of females, craving 211 inch cock will flow through your poor friends house. Remember, these are not your average ladies, they like guys who “don’t talk and convey being a prick through telepathy.”

Hour after hour, the very house you have chosen will seem almost human as unidentified objects fly in and out of its orifices, as great thumping and rocking sounds emanate from deep within, and, as with all large wooden structures and drunk peoples, eventually fall to the ground in a bloody, sweaty pool of filth.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/see-ya-ladder-chef-torte-charley-boy-trebeky.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-drunkening.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-drunkening.php#comments Mon, 17 Jun 2002 02:28:22 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1171
I think this is called “getting plastered”

Once upon a time, I wrote a couple of horribly short articles which supposedly contained the English language. These articles were about having fun. They talked of things like “funny hats” and “whipped cream.” I was convinced that I could defy all of societies deeply held beliefs that the only way to have fun was to get ridiculously drunk with a bunch of people. Well, it would seem that all it took was time to prove me wrong. No one ever escapes society, killing you is too easy, they want your mind! Sure you can make the claim that at every point other than the time which you are pouring the rancid liquid down your gullet you don’t drink, but that tends to be a paradox. Now, the easy way to get out of swearing to yourself that you would never drink is to stick a clause in your little “deal.” Something like “I will not drink unless doing so would lead to sex or ridiculous amounts of money” works. A perfectly moral solution to all your problems!

While it is true that everyone eventually drinks, it is your strategy concerning drinking habits which will determine your level of enjoyment. There are two basic categories of drinkers. There are the people who get really drunk, dance around for a bit, get naked, throw up all over themselves and pass out and the people who drink a bit and act superior to the drunk people.

A few of the things I’ve noticed about the “full drunks” is that they always pass out in places that everyone is guaranteed to step and any areas they can’t cover with their bodies is taken care of with their proverbial lunches. Full drunks enjoy their nudity more than anything else in the world. If a full drunk isn’t completely naked, he’s probably feeling himself up.

Since I am one of these so called “half drunks” I can only really speak of their sacred rituals. The purpose of not drinking all that terribly much is so that you may use your power to abuse the poor drunken saps on the floor. To escape the constant yelling of “drink more you pansy ass bastard” you should drink a bit while everybody is mostly sober. Not only does this allow you to shut up the people screaming at you but you also loosen up enough to ask the other half drunks for their philosophies on life, the universe and everything (more on that in a moment). Now, once you’re semi-drunk, cuddle up to absolutely anyone near you who you wish wasn’t attached to some poser yuppie bastard of death and destruction, reveal to them your luscious indented nipples, and gently run your cave troll hands along their silky smooth womanhood.

You should probably drink enough to forget this image

After you’ve successfully groped the girl to the point where she will never speak to you again, it’s time to interview everyone you know about everything they know. Other peoples opinions are a good thing to have, logically, so it makes perfect sense to someone “under the influence” that you should know all of them immediately. If you happen to be apprehensive about asking people you know about things like political alignment, religious beliefs and sexual experiences then this is your time to act! If sympathy is what you’re craving and you manage to hide your thirst for sorrow whilst sober, being partially drunk is a great excuse to bring out all of your woeful stories of heartache. This is also an excellent time to whip out your massive list of questions for the lord of human relations.

Now, I could “spin a yarn or two” about drinking, but that would take a “‘coons age” to write out, so I shall bid you farewell for now.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-drunkening.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/more-humans.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/more-humans.php#comments Sat, 08 Jun 2002 20:31:48 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1110 Once upon a time, I wrote a dastardly article which listed many different types of humans. I swore on my mother’s grave that I’d describe some more types of humans in the future, and so I have!

Insane Cult Members

One of the most incredible things about human society is the massive number of people belonging to cults. The humans get offended when you use such words though, they like their cults to be called “religion.” I’ve said enough though, chances are I will be attacked by “religious” fanatics as soon as somebody actually reads this.

The Porn Star: Male

Completely different from the female porn star, male porn stars tend to be either fat guys who look like cave trolls and have absolutely massive uhh, “members” or slightly more muscular guys with slightly smaller “partner’s in crime.” Either way, the guy is certain to either have a mustache or a goatee.

The Weird Hot Sort-of-Punk Girl

These magical girls tend to exist mostly in my imagination. They prance around talking about world hunger and other beatnik type subjects while maintaining a somewhat punk image. The magical qualities these girls posses comes mostly from the way they’re spiky hair and super wide pant legs (while being tight around the ass) make me orgasm upon sight.

The Really Weird Cute Sort-of-Punk Girl

Far stranger than the aforementioned females named above, these fair damsels tend to intrigue me more than make me incredibly horny. The magical part of these lasses is more their neurotic tendencies and social outcast status.

Those Guys

Fuck I hate these guys. You know those uhm, guys, who tend to look and act horribly bored unless they’re filled with luscious alcohol. The guys who sit around and talk about cars constantly and refer to anybody who’s energetic as a “fag.” Miraculously these guys always seem to find a girlfriend. I’m guessing they do it by talking to girls every day and saying things to them like “how about that high school football?” and “fuck this weather.”

Those Girls

The girls who somehow manage to be more boring than those guys. These girls are completely useless, their version of a “deep” conversation is to whine about their high school football teams losing and how bad the weather is. For no reason other than to constantly talk about how wonderful their boyfriend is, they always have boyfriends. The only two questions these ladies have when searching out a mate is “does he have a car that vibrates and goes vroom vroom?” and “is he only slightly less horribly monotonous as me?”

Old Rich Guys

One of the most idolized figures in human society is the rich, slightly senile, old man. These old guys tend to spout random bits of incredibly profound statements but mostly just do things like open huge amusement parks with dinosaurs in them.

When I first came to this planet I had no idea just how many different races their would be. I mean, I thought “maybe some elves, some orcs, perhaps a troll or two,” but nothing like this!

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/more-humans.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-alliance-is-strong.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-alliance-is-strong.php#comments Sun, 26 May 2002 06:18:51 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1191 After much deliberation, “The Alliance” has chosen me to be their presence on the internet. At first they were going to set up their own site but that was decided against when they realized that this way I’ll be the one getting killed. Now, let’s get down to business!

As you are well aware of, The Alliance is comprised of mostly anonymous scary internet people. The most powerful and outspoken leaders of our group have, however, revealed their true identities and today I will tell you just who runs this little operation of ours.

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Supreme Chancelor – That Zoom Zoom Kid

Everyone should know by now that the rebellion is led by child mastermind, the Zoom Zoom Kid. Let me clear something up, despite recent rumors, Supreme Chancellor “Zoom Zoom” will not soon be knocked off. The rebellion is still led by this stalwart genius.

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Top Advisors – Mario Brothers

With seemingly infinite lives and tactical knowledge beyond all comparison the “bros” are a significant part of The Alliance. I once heard a story claiming that the Mario Brothers took on an entire empire of turtles and funny walking brown lumpy things by themselves!

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Really Cool Warrior Guys – Yoda, Ganon

This invincible duo of unimaginable power are defending our organizations honor at all times. With their unstoppable powers, Gannon’s in magical ability, and Yoda’s “force” these two can take even the most massive Wal Mart hordes our enemies could ever send at us.

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Princesses of Pleasure – Toadstool, Zelda

You hardly expect our army to fight without a little encouragement. During the Second World War many “poster girls” became famous simply because it was their pictures which “reminded” the troops of their wives every night. These two beautiful ladies get our warriors to fight with the greatest of valor simply by removing their tops and showing the troops their ample “breasts.”

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Silent Masses – Females of All Kinds


The largest group of members is the silent masses of young females who provide our army with exceptional greatness with their illustrious wonderfulness. Obviously, if you feel you’re already anything like the females pictured above then you’ll want to join immediately! You know you want to, with so many ladies such as yourself already with us you’re guaranteed to not be taken advantage of too much. Join us.

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Due to the lack of text in this article, I once again ask you to join my cause. Membership is free and you will receive a snazzy card with your alias on it which you can print off, all you have to do is email me and request membership. Just tell me your alias or some kind of nick name, I can’t send you a card without that.

Join Us

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-alliance-is-strong.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/becoming-the-beatnik.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/becoming-the-beatnik.php#comments Sat, 04 May 2002 20:08:44 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1084 Those of you who live on the planet earth are already aware that the single greatest type of human is the rare and elusive beatnik. A group shrouded in mystery and dark secrets, beatniks can only be found by the most patient of all those in search of their magical way of life. The only type of people who I actually wish there were more of are the beatniks, which is why I have painstakingly spent my hard earned time to write you a three step program to becoming a beatnik.

Jesus!

• Step 1: What kind of beatnik do you want to be?
  
  Surprisingly, there are several layers of beatniks, which one you are depends on how “intelligent,” “cool,” and “trendy” you are.
  • Level 1: A level one beatnik is the most common and least “cool” type. The level 1′s are often referred to as “posers” by higher class beatniks. The level 1′s believe anything popular and mainstream is uncool and favor things which seem “underground.”
    

  • Level 2: The level 2 beatniks are tired of everyone copying their “underground” preferences and so they prefer mainstream stuff. Level 2′s are infamous for relentlessly torturing the level 1 “newbies.”
    

  • Level 3: There is always one person in a group of beatnik’s who looks like “Jesus,” these are the level 3′s. Level 3′s are tired of disliking something because it seems underground but is now popular and so they prefer truly obscure, underground things. Level 3′s defend the level 1′s from the level 2′s and can’t stand “people who don’t like people just because they’re newbies.”
    

  • Level 4: Level 4′s are above all other classes of beatniks. They do whatever the fuck they want just because they can. Without level 4′s there would be no beatnik sub culture. Level 4′s are the actual artists, musicians, and clothing designers who set the trends for everyone else and make ridiculous amounts of money from “not selling out.”

• Step 2: Looking the Part
  
  After selecting your appropriate level of beatnik you must look like a beatnik. Despite the fact that different levels of beatniks claim to like completely different things, they all like the same things. All beatniks must wear clothing which looks like it cost virtually nothing. You can choose to either go out and spend hundreds of dollars on things that look like they came straight off the back of a homeless man if your a level 1 or 2 or you can actually go out and beat a homeless drunk and steal his clothes as the level 3′s and 4′s do. No matter what level you are, you’re required to pick up a pair of dark, thick rimmed glasses. Bongo drums are a nice touch as well, if you saved some money because you got your clothes from a “street person,” then you should consider getting a set, even if you have no intention of ever playing them. If you have chosen to be a level 3, don’t forget, you have to start growing those “flowing locks” and beard right away!
  
  GUL GLUG LUGLE GLUG…
  …uhh, what was I talking about?

• Step 3: Act the Part
  
  Now that you look like a beatnik you must do as the beatnik does. You must go to coffee shops, read and write poetry and snap instead of clap. A vast majority of beatniks are University students, which means they’ve got hours and hours to spend in a coffee shop and do absolutely nothing. Now, if you’re a high school student you probably have things such as a “job” or “homework” taking up a lot of your time, you’re going to have to end these maddening activities right now. You might be thinking “but then I won’t have any money and I’ll be stupid!” well folks, I can tell you that becoming a beatnik will cover for you. Being a beatnik means money will magically appear in your wallet every day and you will be surrounded by an “aura” of intelligence, teachers will simply give you good grades for no actual reason.

As you can tell, becoming a beatnik is the most important thing you can possibly do during your short, pointless existence. Do not fear my loyal subjects, for I shall guarantee that future generations will have the same access to important beatnik-life style information as you. There will always be another beatnik to fill your shoes in this epic battle against people who aren’t beatniks and are therefore evil types!

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/becoming-the-beatnik.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/tune-up-your-speakers-ladies.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/tune-up-your-speakers-ladies.php#comments Sun, 28 Apr 2002 02:27:11 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1169 Ahh, having fun. Often associated with the people of earth, having fun is something that has been partaken in for a many a decade. I have previously described several other forms of fun to you, my dear reader, but today is a step forward in my writing skills. I am sworn to secrecy regarding all of the things I am not about to divulge, which is why I will be using a set of code words in place of more revealing words:

• fuck – today I will be using the word “type”
• any word that means tits – today it’s “speakers”
• a gentleman’s cock – for this article only, it’s “mouse”
• a ladies pussy – “hand”
• porn – “text”

If you are an angsty person between the ages of 13 and 19, then you are an “angsty teen.” Forced to endlessly discuss how much your life sucks, how horrible the world is and how you are the victim of a society gone wrong. Experimentation is a necessity for all those who belong to this category. It is a way to escape the hellish world where other people pay for everything for you, and serve you food on a whim. Done properly, experimentation is fun

Experimintation should begin at the dawn of puberty. Males are recommended to rub their mouses whenever they please, particularly when viewing text. Females should take a few fingers and place them gently in their hand. Perhaps the biggest problem with experimentation is that it’s only experimenting the first few times you try something. This is why you must quickly move on to more hard core activities.

The ol’ “gang” is always up for some sexual exploration!

As you advance in aging, your body will slow down in the number of new places you grow hair and you are now free to try out some illegal substances. At this point, you should be well under legal drinking age which is why you need to loiter outside the liquor mart for hours every day. Alcohol is gotten only by showing older men your speakers ladies. Turn your speakers up all the way and make sure the on button is sticking out as far as possible. If you’re a gentleman, just be sure to keep a large pet mouse with you at all times. It comes in handy when you’re trying to convince your elderly English teacher to buy you some drunkening tools. Of course, alcohol does become legal eventually which means you really ought to try those drugs which are always illegal. “Pot” is a favorite amongst the youth today. If that isn’t your thing, just get whatever it is your friendly neighborhood dealer recommends

Dueling canes are perfect for solving a gentleman’s quarrel!

Sexual boredom is likely to be your next problem as you age like a fine wine, only to be thrown up by some wealthy drunkards. After that whole rubbing of the mouse and hand becomes boring, you really should find someone else to share the good times with. Often, a permanent laborer to fulfill this task is unavailable which means you must gather all of your other single friends together and invite them to spend some time with you in a form of transportation. A train or plane perhaps. Constant discussion of typing and being open about such things as text should put everyone in an interesting mood. A mood conducive to showing off your speakers or maybe even ramming your mouse into some snow.

Just a few short years later you will have grown a handlebar mustache and purchased a fine, hand crafted dueling cane. As your final act of sexual exploration you must take a stroll down the neighborhood, sporting your fine piece of craftsmanship. What was that? You think that was some sort of sexual innuendo? Pervert!

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/tune-up-your-speakers-ladies.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/humans-have-inter-species-breeding-fantasies.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/humans-have-inter-species-breeding-fantasies.php#comments Sun, 14 Apr 2002 20:24:58 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1107 A common attribute with many humans is the need to dominate animals. Whether it’s fondling a cow, partaking in bondage with a horse, or forcing a defenseless dog into unspeakable acts, humans have a long and storied past of abusing those repulsive things we share the planet with.

In ancient times, it was common practice to train several creatures, dogs, horses and goats quite often, to accompany hunters on extended trips. These animals were hearty and could survive harsh weather. They were used in the place of women, the uneducated cave man felt women couldn’t “handle” the great out doors. After a few years it was the sixties, women burned their “upper body support” and bought whips, forcing the males to recognize them as equals and so animals became unnecessary. However, the desire for animals had become part of the human identity and the lust remained.

This guy eats and breathes cow.

It is a well known fact that those in our world with cow fetishes (you know, those guys who own thousands of cows) have been forced to live on huge plots of land with their precious “beasts of burden.” Some might think that this shows humans are slowly trying to get rid of their bestiality mind sets but it is clearly nothing more than a cover.

While those with cow fetishes live far from contact with society their counter parts, the dog fuckers, have free reign in the city. It is often said that a dog is a mans best friend. This is because in many groups, you are not considered a “man” until you fuck a bitch.

Huge numbers of people, all over the world, own pets. It’s not just dogs either, it’s cats, small pigs, birds, fish, whatever suits their fancy. Pet owners are allowed to carry out what they refer to as “unconditional love.”

A child expresses her perverted fantasies.

You might assume anyone who actually performs such acts with animals must look like a serial killer or some other group discriminated against. False! Most often it is innocent looking girls, old ladies, and high school nerds. Young girls continuously beat and harass their pets until they are reduced to groveling shells of their former selves. Old ladies, who have been committing repulsive acts for decades, are by far the worst of the three groups. Old womenses have been having sex with animals and humans alike for such a long time they are mostly desensitized to more standard practices. They will force an animal into a submissive role and commit acts too monstrous to be mentioned here. High school nerds have pets because they lack the social skills required to befriend members of their own species. Nerds are infamous for their being “horny,” the only outlet for their cravings is a poor, defenseless fish.

Pets are often referred to as “family pets,” this is because the most sinister of all animal species, humans, freely share their furry little bed buddies as a final act of humiliation against the creatures of this world who lack the intelligence to senselessly beat something until it does what is wanted of it.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/humans-have-inter-species-breeding-fantasies.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/a-polygonal-curtain-has-descended-across-the-continent.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/a-polygonal-curtain-has-descended-across-the-continent.php#comments Sun, 07 Apr 2002 06:16:49 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1187 The United States, and therefore all the countries they own, is under the control of an evil empire. This would not be much of a problem except that one of the countries the U.S. has is Canada, meaning they’ve almost got a continent. I’m not going to sit idly by, let them take Mexico, and get 5 guys a turn!

It isn’t really the American’s fault. Their de-evolved minds have simply fallen for the propaganda of a league of businesses and organizations devoted to making my life a living hell. Yes, there is an entire empire, a legion if men, women and video game characters after my hot, delicious body. This unfavorable “cult” uses current U.S. Vice President, Dick Cheney as a puppet who intern uses current U.S. President, George W. Bush, as a marionette. You know, a “doll,” a real “mannequin,” “figurine,” or “moppet” if you will.

This “legion of doom” has business holdings throughout the entire world. Some of the major corporations controlled by this organization are:

• Wal-Mart
• Sony
• Microsoft
• Lycos network
• Pepsi
• Tang

Cheney, an attractive man.

This isn’t just some gang of hicks running the United States, which is commonly assumed, but a highly sophisticated organization, made up of an elite team. The infamous Leon Powalski is their leader, with Wario and Waluigi as his top advisors. This empire is ruled with an iron fist. While Powalski takes care of the important things, such as having inter-species sexual relations with the President’s wife and daughters, the Mario brother’s evil-doing counter parts make all business and military decisions.

“Zoom zoom, Italian mother fuckers!”

The only way to stop this evil empire is to join a rag-tag gang of misfits who have made it their mission to stop the spread of this dubious establishment. The unquestioned leader of this alliance is that kid from the Mazda commercials. Some might asume he is too young and weak to lead a resistance movement but any real gamer would understand an underage boy such as he is completely invincible. With the help of the other Mario brothers, Mario and Luigi, as well as backing from several governments and corporations the alliance has an excellent chance of eventually removing the empire from power, but only with your help! A few of the businesses who have sided with the alliance are:

• Nintendo
• The Hudson’s Bay Company
• Coca Cola
• TIME magazine and its affiliates
• Nintendo some more

As you can tell, I heavily favor the alliance. While I’ve always had a thing for evil empire’s, this one, by some complete fluke, contains only those corporations which I despise. Join the alliance today, email me and request a membership!

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/a-polygonal-curtain-has-descended-across-the-continent.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/balloons-and-clowns.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/balloons-and-clowns.php#comments Sun, 03 Mar 2002 20:23:40 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1105 At long last, the population of earth has driven me to the edge. You, the dominant species of this planet has finally done enough to convince me you are all worthy of the almighty Clown of Suffering’s wrath. I would never want to touch a single one of you! I am afraid. So very afraid. With this in mind, I have decided to cover this article with pleasing images while I rant about the ludicrous goings on of your puny planet.

Why! Why must you scare me the way you do? Why must you walk around with your beloved arms, and your bulbous heads, why must you connect these things with a torso! Why, oh God (as you say), why must you propel yourself forward with those two hideous legs, resting on those obnoxious feet. It doesn’t have to be this way people! You could always just give up those hideous and obsolete bodies for a robot. You can upload your precious “minds” to the computer inside a robot. You’d be able to fly, fly people. There is something wrong with anyone who doesn’t want to fly around in a robot body.

Speaking of those minds, why do you not upgrade them too? They are slowing you down. Think about it, has your mind done anything good for you today? It’s letting you read what I’m saying, what kind of mind is that? Your minds are so poorly designed they do things like give you emotions. They actually make you spend precious time doing things like cry and chase after those other humans in the art of courtship. It would be far better to simply discard your mind and body, and simply trust the robots to continue your society.

And what about society? Can you imagine! Large bands of humans gathering together in a small crowded area simply so that they may catch one another’s diseases and steal from one another. Just so children can grow up violent and perverted.

People have sex. The male of your species takes his “glue stick,” inserts into the female’s “hole” and proceeds to repeat the process quite vigorously. He plays with her “fun bags,” she sucks on his “pole o’ plenty” he sticks his tongue in her “thing that looks nothing like a taco shell yet can still be represented by one.” It comes as a horrible shock that “folks” don’t just download some pornographic images and videos and view them whilst pleasuring themselves. It seems to me this would not only be not so horribly scary but would also be much more efficient and cleaner. I implore you, please just… just masturbate. With that thought in mind, I leave you with this:

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/balloons-and-clowns.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/smart-people-are-dumb.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/smart-people-are-dumb.php#comments Sun, 24 Feb 2002 06:25:09 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1198 In my particular high school we have a group of “intelligent folks” called the International baccalaureate cult. At least, I think that’s what it stands for. Even if your school is not worthy of such a program as IB, then chances are you also have a bunch of supposedly intelligent people who hang out together and act exactly the same way. These “IB’s” are all friends with one another and tend to congregate in an area to pray to their unholy calculator Gods. I have several spies working for me inside the cult and thanks to their information as well as my own observations I have managed to compile a report on this most evil and barbaric club.

IB is a very secretive cult and there is only one way to get in. You must sleep with the couple who’s picture is on the right. The problem is, the cult was founded by these two lovely folks and is ruled with an iron fist. They might look happy to you, however, the gentleman on the right is seven feet tall and quite cruel to say the least. The lady is an evil genius and uses her harem of IB ladies to influence the unsuspecting.

You wouldn’t recognize these IB “ladies of the night” if you saw them in the hallway but don’t let their appearance fool you! They are always looking for fresh male meat and will use their wit, intellect and cool glasses to get what they want. Despite the fact I’ve never fallen into their evil “grip of lust” I know many who have and I’ve witnessed their destruction. They ended up doing things like spending five hours a day at their ladies workplace and beating me at video games a lot.

These people aren’t your usual “smartie pants,” they drink all the time. They drink every weekend, they drink at school and they drink at work. Just remember, even if they’re all alcoholics you aren’t aloud to make fun of them. The IB lynch mob will get you! The IB lynch mob is a highly trained group of IB operatives who’s job it is to uphold law and order as set down in the IB handbook. The IB handbook reads as follows: (note: the people in the picture sport the ideal look for an IB student)

I as an IB student shall drink an alcoholic beverage every hour. If male, I will do four hours of homework a night and if female I will do no homework whatsoever, however I will claim to do at least six hours each night. I will kill anyone who calls me a geek, nerd, beatnik or intellectual. I will have a “partner” at all times. That partner will be in the IB organization. If there are no members of the opposite sex available, I will form a threesome with two members of the organization. I will horribly maim any male who attempts to attract the affections of one of our female members. I will become friends with all of my teachers and hit on them whenever I see them. I will follow the rules above. If I fail to fulfill any of the preceding rules I will be forced to leave IB and live a life amongst the commoners.

You heard right, members of the cult despise being called nerds or any other word with similar meaning. They prefer simply being called ‘IB.’ IB’s don’t like being called nerds because they associate the word with people such as myself, who remain outside the cult. Anyone outside of the cult is a renegade who’s mere existence is a horrible offense to those inside the cult. This is an opportunity to say “IB’s all have superiority complexes” however, I will refrain out of fear of the lynch mob and will instead masturbate to thoughts of hot girls with great wit, intellect and cool glasses.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/smart-people-are-dumb.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/review-bully-tactics.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/review-bully-tactics.php#comments Thu, 21 Feb 2002 06:12:33 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1181 In the good old days I would chase the ladies about the playground, tackle them and even do a little flirting. But alas, that was before. Before that horrendous gang of hooligans known as “the guys who’s soul source of entertainment is beating on Newbs” was formed. Day by day, week by week, month by month and for six years they pummeled me and beat me into submission. By the time I was finished elementary school I was afraid to talk to my own mom, let alone a strange girl. Some of the bullies “antics” worked better than others. Here’s a review of a few of the things they did using DMUSER’s “crappily drawn brown circles” method.

---

Shove grass down my pants



A very effective tactic if you ask me. It gives great discomfort to me for two reasons, I’ve got great wads of roughage down my pants and because I’ve got strange “males” sticking their hands down my pants. If I recall, this method worked quite well and certainly scarred me for life.

---

Steal my winter gear



A very poor assault. The ability to take my “toque,” fill it full of snow and then give it back to me was hardly a well planned attack. They didn’t even bother sticking it on my head after filling it with snow. I remind everyone, these were not the most intelligent people. Taking my “mittens,” tossing them around and then returning them added to the horrifying experience even more. Now for some underage girls wearing mittens.

---

Call me things I don’t understand



I remember a particular bully. In fact, my first bully, who used to call me either “funky” or “fucky.” Because I had no idea what he was talking about, I was deeply offended. He refused to tell me what it meant which bothered me deeply. After all, he could have been calling me cool or something along those lines.

---

Refuse to let me pass in the hall



When I was but a young’n I was deathly afraid of being late for class. So you can imagine how horrifying it would have been to be unable to pass through the hall and get to class. Whether they realized it or not, my bullies were doing something rather well. More than once this tactic led to me crying.

---

If you are someone in elementary school hoping to use these very same tactics on that little guy in your class, I would be quite glad to give you personal lessons. Feel free to contact me, we can arrange a session at my home where I will blind fold you, tie you up and beat on you for hours until you are most definitely dead. If you are one of my bullies from the “good ol’ days” then I expect to see you giving me one of your whores in the very near future.

If you plan on bullying someone, my only word of advice is to learn your opponents weaknesses and exploit them.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/review-bully-tactics.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/how-to-make-people-hate-you-part-iii-newbs.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/how-to-make-people-hate-you-part-iii-newbs.php#comments Sat, 02 Feb 2002 20:04:50 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1079 Well, I didn’t expect to do a third article in this section but it seems it is required. This is by far the most offensive article I have ever written. You see, some of you are in desperate need of making me hate you. As usual this “puppy” is in three parts.

• Step 1: Pummel me
  If you’re looking to make me hate you the first step is most certainly to beat me up. Punch me in the shoulder, stomach or give me a “cheap kidney shot” whenever you feel like it, try to mix it up to keep me on my toes. Once you get bored of punching me feel free to start tackling me and wrestling me to the ground. Because I am a person of smaller stature it should be no problem to get me on the ground and in an extremely painful hold. After that gets tiring be sure to stab me with hot pokers, bite me, kick my “ass” right up the “center”. Come into my home at night and cover my floor with glass so that when I wake up in the morning my feet will be shredded. Whatever suits your fancy.

• Step 2: Talk About How Stupid I am In Front of My Face
  This is probably the most fun part of the whole process. After you’ve successfully beaten me into a babbling groveling puddle of blood you get to make fun of me! Every time you and another person are in the general proximity of “yours truly” feel free to talk about my lack of intelligence. It doesn’t matter if I make a great “intellectual” with a quick wit. Let’s say you and a friend are having a discussion, one of you could say “let’s ask Newbs” the other one would get to respond “no point, because Newbs is stupid.” Or when you and a trusty cohort view a young lady running around screaming the name of a particular male sex organ repeatedly one of you can calmly explain to the other “It’s like Newbs. She finds something she likes and repeats it continuously because Newbs is stupid.”

• Step 3: Tell Me What To Do
  Once you’ve gotten me to severely dislike you there’s just one thing left for you to do before I never want to talk to you again. You’ve got to tell me what to do. You must order me around, you must constantly give me worthless “advice” and insist I take it. You must tell me what movies to see, what games to buy, who to ask out, and most importantly, who not to ask out. Yup, you must tell me I am not good enough for every girl I have any interest in. By all means, insist I am a creepy bastard who doesn’t have a hope in hell of going out with anyone under the age of forty or without a massive growth on their neck. Make absolutely sure I don’t get to ever talk to someone with any even mildly attractive qualities, let alone ask them out.

As you can probably tell, it is extremely easy to make me hate you. After all, it’s not as if I’d like you if you gave me a mild amount of respect, treated me as a human being or at least followed the “golden rule” or anything.

Anyone looking to make me hate you, please follow these simple steps. I am likely to catch on fairly quickly and will most certainly leave you alone so you may discuss computer games, guns, and how stupid I am in peace.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/how-to-make-people-hate-you-part-iii-newbs.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-trouble-with-tang.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-trouble-with-tang.php#comments Mon, 28 Jan 2002 06:22:05 +0000 DMUSER http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1193 Why Tang do you ask? Its simple. Plain and simple…Completely plain…and completely simple…
Ok…its not simple at all…

In Pashtu(one of 2 languages spoken in Afghanistan) Tang is the word for Marijuana. You might think that that’s a coincidence…but really…think about it…IT’S TANG!! The only people that would ever actually drink this refreshing non-fruit 100% flavoured drink in a freezer pouch are astronauts…but then you have to ask yourself…is it really Tang that these astronauts are drinking? They always say that they send the brave space-farers into space with large quantities of Tang…but that might just be code in Pashtu for them sending some unusually intelligent potheads into space to test the effects of this illicit substance that we will now refer to as “Chem X” under almost 0 Gravity.

Now I’m not saying that testing “Chem X” on some of the finest minds in the world isn’t a good idea…hell the finest minds in the world *are* potheads…just look at Einstein… you don’t actually think he came up with the theory of relativity level do you? He was completely stoned out of his mind when he wrote E = mc2 on a blackboard. He probably thought it was the funniest shit he had seen since the Model T.

What you say? Tang is the Chem X that we have all been looking for on dark street corners and in parents bedrooms? Of course not. I never said that. Er…well I did…but ignore that…Tang does not = instant stoner…unless you concentrate it a lot and drink it like its 1999…even then you’ll probably only get a sugar high and have an intense desire to kill main and destroy anything Tang related.– hmmm…note to self — may have world domination possibilities —

Tang is also a world leader in the artificial fruit drink market…beating out both Kool-aid and crystallized iced-tea. The Tang market has seen noticiable conflict in high concentrations of Kool-aid drinking areas…such as the former Yugoslavia and South America. The terrorist attacks and geurilla warfare being waged in these areas is no coincidence…its an international artificial fruit drink market war gone mad. The Tang-ers are fighting Kool-aid int’l activists, the coke an pepsi companies are vying for supremacy over the drink markets, and the crystallized iced-tea companies are hiring assasins to fight out everyone so that they can push their obviously superior product.

In conclusion(because its 12:40am and I’m running out of things to talk about when I have no one to talk to except notepad) Tang is slowly and inexorably becoming more powerful than even the tobacco companies…its sweet blend of “Chem X” and artificial fruit flavours will take you into orbit. And that is kind of ironic since so many astronauts seem to do just that with it…

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/the-trouble-with-tang.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/whatd-you-say-about-perverts.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/whatd-you-say-about-perverts.php#comments Sun, 27 Jan 2002 20:21:24 +0000 DMUSER http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1102 As I was sitting at my computer waiting for something of astronomical proportions to happen — I started to think. This being the thing that I was waiting for I decided to write yet another article to celebrate.

Now needing only a topic that I could write about, I did the only thing that is possible in this situation; I did the ritual Google search on the first word that came to mind –pervert. Now you might think that I came up with large amounts of child porn, as well as pictures of convicted pedophiles…but lo and behold Google spoils us again with red M&M.

Now you may ask me what a man in a giant red suit with a big “m” on it, a sideways grin, and white gloves have to do with a pervert. If are actually enough of an idiot not to see it email me at DMUSER_ca@yahoo.com and I’ll respond with how much of an idiot you are…


Now as everyone knows all perverts need transportation. And the more conspicuous the better! At the last pervert-R-Us meeting they all decided to drive plain white box-vans, preferably with a bed in back, and speakers on the top, playing ice-cream van music,to attract their prey.



Now that I knew how they caught their prey, I needed to home in on their interests and hobbies. The first thing that came up on a Google search was anime. This shows that all perverts look at anime. That means that most of Japan is included in the pervert population (sorry all of the Japanese people that I know that are going to kill me on Friday… also to Newbs who watches large amounts of anime…err…and me..who also watches large amounts of anime).



Now what do perverts look like you ask? Well that’s simple. All perverts have these basic features. Note the earring in the right ear, as well the obvious application of lipstick and pizza face. As well as poorly dyed hair. Also notice the stupid grin, like he’s been looking at porn for the last 6 hours and he just caught his kid sister in the shower…

Then on to the middle age picture.

Notice that some features have not changed. Such as the obvious application of lipstick, and the poorly dyed hair, and the stupid grin as if he’s been looking at little boys for the past 16 years and just caught his kid sister in the shower. But also notice that the pizza face has been replaced with an unshaven look that can only be accomplished by careful grooming to acheive the perfect look. I apologize as well for using a picture of Micheal Jackson…but really this is an article on perverts…quite frankly you’re looking at the #1 pervert in the world…


And that is the description of the common pervert. So if you see anyone with all of those qualities, beware! Guard you children!

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/whatd-you-say-about-perverts.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/i-dare-you-to-have-more-fun-than-me.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/i-dare-you-to-have-more-fun-than-me.php#comments Sun, 20 Jan 2002 02:25:02 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1167 For all of you who might not know, Tim Horton’s is Canada’s national restaurant. They sell donuts, coffee and that’s about it. In the United States I believe they have a similar chain of donut shops called Krispie Kum Donuts. Any ways, Tim Horton’s is a magical place filled with new and exciting adventures just waiting to be unlocked by you and your trusty cohorts. When my friends and I have a little extra energy and are looking for a wild night on the town we head to the local “Hortons.”

Before Visiting your local Hortons I recommend getting acquainted with a few of the characters you’re likely to meet:

• “Chick”
  Okay, for years you’ve been searching for the kind of person who would listen to you rant for hours about things such as hard cookies and sensitive blow dryers, right? Well here she is! Being a robot from the future (which I have built to suit myself) this “baby” comes fully loaded with stolen truck and matching bad music cd. This model even comes equipped with a microphone so she can communicate with your dead lovers and sometimes even her boss.

• The Boss
  Your greatest enemy at the palace of donut is not “the fuzz” as you might expect but actually the miserable being who happens to run the place. The problem with the boss is the fact that s/he (I’m not entirely sure which at this point) is a cruel slave driver who insists their employees do not “waste” a few hours working on selling customers a small cup of coffee or three day old chocolate chip cookie.

• Girl you had a crush on in grade six
  That’s right! The strange girl who sat behind you in grade 4 and always talked about how sorry she felt for you has come back. This time around she’s got a job and a bit of upper body mass, but besides those things she hasn’t changed at all. I don’t recommend bothering with her since in the near future the cute shy girl who sits in front of you in math class is going to be your lady friend.

• Hair Net Guy
  Hair net guy just loves his job and takes it deathly serious so be sure not to mess with this “tough cookie.” Mr. Guy has a lot of problems, such as his obesity, the voice of a 7 year old and that lovely hair net he hasn’t taken off since he got the job back when the store was called “Tim’s Ring of Dough.”
  

As you can see Tim Horton’s is a land filled with adventure and mystery waiting to be unlocked by you. Pick up your coffee mug young nerd and embrace your destiny as the hero of time!

(Some assembly required. Not valid in Quebec, Newfoundland and anywhere else not suitable for humans. For assistance please consult your manual or call our help line at 1-900-newbs-is-fucking-hot)

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/i-dare-you-to-have-more-fun-than-me.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/can-you-feel-it.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/can-you-feel-it.php#comments Sat, 05 Jan 2002 20:18:13 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1097 Today children we’re going to talk about “feelings.” I am relentlessly researching this thing called humanity and I recently came across this funny thing these creatures are obsessed with, it’s called emotion. Apparently when someone tells you you aren’t fit for reproduction it causes “hurt feelings.” As far as I know, taking a direct hit to your feelings is along the lines of 4 d6 damage. Ouch! On the other hand, when someone tells you you have a “sexy bod” you gain an unprecedented amount of positive stuff..? I have taken the painstaking effort of listing a few of these feelings and how you can use them to manipulate the masses.

• Love
  This love thing is the one feeling most closely guarded by humans. When you shack up with a counter-part (usually of the opposite sex) it is often referred to as “making love.” I’m not entirely sure why since humans also state they love there parents, siblings and grandparents. From what I can deduce, humans love anyone who will take the risk of touching them. Some humans however, will “love” another simply if that person talks to them. These people live in the gutter of society and tend to run websites.

  If you wish to use love to manipulate someone, all you have to do is join there family through the courtship of a cousin, marry them and then touch your manipulee a lot.

• Hate
  The opposite of love. If someone is so afraid of you they run in fear at the site of you, they tend to hate you. From a few of my field cases I have come to realize that most everyone will learn to hate you. If you ever find yourself talking to a human don’t fret, they will likely hate you in a matter of minutes.

  To use hate to manipulate an enemy unit all that is required is the suggestion another person hates them. Let’s say you don’t want one human to like another human, all you have to do is tell him the other filthy beast doesn’t like him and they’ll be enemies forever.

• Happy
  Now all people like to be happy. Happy is anything that is enjoyable. For instance, I enjoy pornography, therefore looking at porn makes me happy. The more porn I look at the more happy I get. If you are female and also enjoy pornography, oh hell, if you’re living and enjoy porn, email me and we can set something up so as to enjoy porn together.

  If you wish to use happy to manipulate someone, email me and we can enjoy porn together.

• Lonely
  A person is lonely when he or she does not have enough people touching him or herself. Let’s take me for example, I have a very sparse collection of people willing to make physical contact with me therefore I am lonely. Rumor has it it doesn’t have to be physical contact but that’s obviously a lie. If you are also lonely and feel like doing a little touching you can, once again, email me.

  To manipulate someone using this lonely stuff, tell them how lonely you are and how all you want is a hug. Offer complete strangers your company on your website if they are willing to touch you. The trick is to make people feel sorry for you. Often, pointing out how you’re trying to manipulate them is a bad idea.

• Sad
  Careful, this gets complicated! Listen up students, a person can be sad for many reasons. Often sad goes hand in hand with lonely. Other times though it can be caused by a lack of visitors to a persons website. Yet another reason to be sad is the loss of a limb. Making fun of a gimp is a bad idea.

  Sometimes killing a persons dog and then making fun of the situation can lead to depression, leaving a person easily manipulated. Relax, I won’t kill your dog if you also own cats.

As you can see these humans have many emotions. In fact they have many more emotions then I have listed here. If you wish to suggest more emotions for me to talk about or just want to touch me, email me.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/can-you-feel-it.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/take-a-ride-on-the-magic-school-bus.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/take-a-ride-on-the-magic-school-bus.php#comments Sun, 16 Dec 2001 06:23:35 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1196 As some of my more stalker-like readers may know, I take the bus to school. Not one of those gimpy yellow buses but a county bus designated for taking adolescents to school. Bet you didn’t know that Mr. “Newbs is exactly 5 feet 7.5438 inches tall.” I have descended from the heavens to compile a list of the characters you will likely encounter taking my bus:

• Eight year old kid who thinks he needs to tell the bus driver what route to take
  The poor child has difficulty believing the bus driver knows how to drive, as he is constantly reminding the driver what direction to go. The eternal six year old of the busing world is likely to enhance your trip with comments such as “Charlie’s Angels is the greatest movie ever!” and “Stone Cold Steve Austin could beat up your dad.”
  

• Really tall nerd with even taller afro
  This poor fellow, no matter how much of a nerd you are, will always be more of a nerd then you are. I feel sorry for the guy though, he’s behind the times and will show this in a few random comments he’s likely to make: “all your base are belong to us” and perhaps even “I own a PS2.”

• Ridiculously hot female #1 – Red head with bubble gum
  The ridiculously hot red head is a rare species indeed. This is so, simply because I once managed to talk to her. I recommend staying away from her though, since she is a red head and I own her.
  
  

• Fat loud punk female
  The fat loud punk female comes pre packaged with a repulsive nickname just to show off how a horrible a creature it really is. Often these nicknames will be of various insect types such as: Slug, Roach, or even Giant Bug of Death and Destruction. This lovely addition to the mix is guaranteed to be heard by you, no matter where you sit on the bus. Don’t worry though, you’ll hear such things as “I have 83 holes in my left ear” and “I hope you enjoyed the clay I shoved down your shirt in grade 10 art class.”

• Ridiculously hot female #2 – Blonde with bad rap music
  The ridiculously hot blonde will sit beside you on the bus every single morning, rub up against you and generally make it her life to make you want her. The only trouble is you can never talk to her, as she is always listening to obnoxious rap music.
  
  

• Prep who’s car was destroyed in freak missile attack
  The fact he never had a car in the first place is a dead giveaway to the truth; he deserves a slow and painful, erm… bus ride.

• Old woman who thinks she’s 17
  The old woman gets on the bus, claiming to have lost her retirement home to alien invaders. She then tells the driver she would like to go to the largest shopping centre in your home town and wander aimlessly for hours. As she is old, the driver is required to take her to her requested destination before following his usual route and taking you home.

• The driver himself
  This obelisk of modern society stands as the last stand against anarchy and chaos in our world. The bus driver will come to work despite wind, sleet, snow, mental disease, and job loss. You can always count on the bus driver to get you to your desired destination, no matter how many pedestrians die (after all, pedestrians are inferior, and are all pedophiles)
  

Taking the bus is thoroughly enjoyed by millions every day. In any classroom you may be in there is a possibility 100% of the people there take the bus. As a human being the only thing I would even be remotely afraid of on the bus is sitting next to me. I am an attention whore and will likely do anything to get your attention. If you are an attractive female I recommend not taking my bus, any bus, or going out in public at all out of fear of encountering me.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/take-a-ride-on-the-magic-school-bus.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/how-to-make-people-hate-you-part-ii-females.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/how-to-make-people-hate-you-part-ii-females.php#comments Sat, 17 Nov 2001 20:03:18 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1077 Well here it is, after exhaustive research of the female mind, I can finally tell all of you just how to make a young lady not just dislike you, but actually hate you. Every time you say “hi” to her, she’ll respond with a “hello creepy” at best.. err.. worst, you know what I mean. I think it’s supposed to be in three parts. I’m not sure why this article even goes in this section.

If there’s anything a girl can’t stand it’s when guys are polite to her.

• 
  

  Step 1: It makes no difference

  Since the population of earth is over 50% male, the ladies don’t actually have to be kind to you, treat you with respect or pay any attention to you whatsoever. It really doesn’t matter if you actually are polite to the girl, if she considers you a sexy lad, you can be as rude as you like. If you try to be nice to a girl or even try to be her friend, she’ll find you creepy and very unattractive. If a young lady decides you are a sexy lad she will think it cute and attractive if you are outgoing enough to say contact her on ICQ, for example. However, if she does not recognize you as a sexy lad it would be extremely creepy and stalker-like to contact her on ICQ.
  

• 
  

  Step 2: I don’t know

  Females consider it exceptionally evil to meet new people for no reason. If, by some luck, you have the same watch as a young lady you can use it as an excuse to talk to her for up to an entire class period. Unfortunately, after that point you are never aloud to talk to her again. If you attempt to talk to her again the conversation will be slow and awkward which can only be caused by you since you are solely responsible for all human interaction, or lack there of.

• 
  

  Step 3: They don’t know

  Now that I’ve pointed out everything that doesn’t belong in this article, I will now provide you with just a few relevant points.

  Females don’t like it when you don’t help them with homework, help them with homework, can draw, can’t draw, play a musical instrument, can’t play a musical instrument, can’t ride a bike, can’t skate, or can’t swim. They also can’t stand it when you are shy, outgoing, depressed, excited, attractive, unattractive, arrogant, lazy, hard working, studious, stupid, know nothing about computers, or know too much about computers.

Due to the restrictive guidelines young women set for male counterparts these days it is actually impossible for a girl not to dislike you. If by some chance a girl becomes “friends” with you she will quickly turn on you. As soon as you mention finding a girlfriend or how lonely you are, or how the only thing in the world you really want is a light, closed mouth kiss, your first, and likely your last she will run. Run and will never be seen again. *begins gentle sobbing*

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/how-to-make-people-hate-you-part-ii-females.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/am-i-gulp-normal.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/am-i-gulp-normal.php#comments Sun, 28 Oct 2001 02:23:06 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1163 Well well well, I now understand why all the “cool kids” have orgies for parties. You see, I recently attended a party that slowly degenerated into one. I know, all you fellow creepy bastards want to know just how to do it, right? I’ll tell you!

It really doesn’t matter who comes to your party, as long as there is a fairly equal male to female ratio. One would assume you’d need loose girls and outgoing guys, but that is most certainly not the case. All you need is whipped cream, the game Twister, and hormones.

Don’t simply strip down as soon as people arrive at your house and think you’re about to “get lucky.” That won’t work; it has to be a slow process, where you wear down the frigid females until they crack. It’s not hard to crack one, just show the young lady a little lesbian porn, maybe “dance” for her and she’ll be on you like Grandpa on a toaster! Ride ‘em cowboy!

Regular conversation and human interaction will not work if you’re looking to create a sex pit. You have to play games that involve physical interaction. Start off slow, that’s what Twister is for. After that, move on to the more hard core stuff. Turn down the lights, introduce a spinning contraption and suggest the old stand by, Truth or Dare. Sure, your parents played it but it still works for “scoring.” Dare the ladies to make out with you, strip, eat whipped cream off your 90 pound weakling frame or whatever other freaky things you want, they’ll do it. Never, under any circumstances choose truth when it’s your turn. It just makes you sound creepy to talk about “relieving yourself” and cartoon characters especially when combining the two.

So you’re finally locked in a broom closet, clothes soaked in sweat and blood, half naked with your lady… DAMN IT!!!11 I have no frigging clue what comes next.

Umm, I’m going to go do some research on the internet pertaining to that whole “what comes next” thing. I’ll get back to you after I’m done thinking about Nurse Joy.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/am-i-gulp-normal.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/enigma.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/enigma.php#comments Sat, 20 Oct 2001 20:07:08 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1081 Hey! Is your life boring? Are you shy and quiet? Do your friends bully and make fun of you relentlessly because you never stand up for yourself? Then what you need is a persona! Invent a bunch of quirky attributes for yourself, that way people will listen to you and, if your lucky, stop hitting you. If you don’t have anything to say, make fun of yourself for being a pervert. That’s right, if your life is so boring you never have anything interesting to say, insult yourself! I know what you’re saying, “but what if I end up looking like some kinda creepy deranged pervert?” well, that’s even better. After all, isn’t everybody an attention whore deep down inside, looking for people to laugh at all your dumb jokes? Well, I’ve compiled a very special checklist of all the things you’ll need to stop being beet up, to become less shy and introverted and to have a lot of fun while you’re doing it.

• Step 1: You’re going to have to learn a few things before you begin your quest.
  • Your first step should be to learn a bit about the very porn you’ll pretend to love. Start with the really soft core stuff. Get desensitized to as much as you can so you can later appear to be a huge pervert.

  • Next, you’ll have to learn a bit about how to talk to people. Chances are you’re a very minor part of a group so it won’t be hard to find people to talk to. Just say “hey, what’s up?” if you really want to be fancy, use catch phrases like “sup my homey?”

  • Select a couple girls that you like so that you can tell your friends you’re “stalking” them. note: you’ll actually just be talking to them occasionally and making attempts to ask them out

  
  
• Step 2:
  Now that you’ve got the appropriate background knowledge you must begin spreading word of your new found uniqueness. Tell the guys you’ve been saying “sup?” to about the girls your stalking. Tell them all the crazy facts you’ve learned about the whore down the hallway.

• Step 3:
  Once everyone knows just who it is you’re stalking, it’s time to bring up your porn obsession. Just casually mention at lunch the gigabyte of compressed porn you have on your computer. It doesn’t matter if you don’t have any porn on your hard drive, just tell them you do!

• Step 4:
  The very next day, start talking in the slang of whatever sub culture you’ve decided to take after. People will think “hey, what’s that? That guy sounds like he’s part of some elite group of special agents.” I guarantee people will start talking to you as soon as they figure out just what you’re actually saying.

After that, you’re completely set. You’ll have too many quirks to talk about for people to remember to hit you. I suppose the only problem is that you’ll be stuck with the title of Creepy Perverted Bastard for the rest of high school and maybe your entire life. You’ll probably also lose a couple of friends in the process due to your new found popularity and their jealousy, but that’s okay, because you’ll be making many more, much more attractive friends.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/enigma.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/looking-for-a-good-time.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/looking-for-a-good-time.php#comments Mon, 24 Sep 2001 02:20:06 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1160 I know you are! I bet you’re wondering how to have fun since it is quite obvious you don’t know how. Chances are, making out with your girlfriend in a poorly lit room or getting drunk/high is how you define “fun”. Well I’ve got news for you, fun is actually nothing like those things.

Fun is going to your local shopping centre with a few friends, and buying $8 Halloween hats. The purchased hats may include several features; funky colours, jingle bells, and anything else that would get you called a “fag”. These magical caps grant you powers of extroverts and daring. There is a code of conduct for wearing such hats, here’s that:

• Drive around to every public place in your town until everyone has seen your hat
  
• Scream “hottiex0r” at every mildly attractive female you come across
  
• Show off your giant tongue to every girl how dares make eye contact with you
  
• Have sex*
  

*no one has ever fulfilled this rule

All driving done whilst having “fun” must be in a 25 year old boat of a car. The car must have problems starting, turning and especially breaking. In fact, it is preferred the car have no breaks whatsoever, instead, just use a tree to stop, that’s what they’re there for. If at all possible, have an ub3r sound system installed in the car so everyone may enjoy the same disco/pop/rap music you do.

If there is ever a lull in the action, stop by all of your friends houses and see if they want to “cruise” with you. If you find any of your friends drunk/high or having sex, don’t let them come with you, you’re obviously too cool for them.

]]> http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/looking-for-a-good-time.php/feed 0 http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/how-to-make-people-hate-you-part-i-males.php http://shufflingdead.com/articles/society/how-to-make-people-hate-you-part-i-males.php#comments Sun, 16 Sep 2001 19:52:25 +0000 Newbs http://shufflingdead.com/?p=1075 Have you ever wanted someone who liked you to dislike you? Ever have a problem with a “young lady” who wanted you but you didn’t like? Ever been forced to hang out with a guy you couldn’t stand? Well most people have so I’m going to give you three easy steps to escape the clutches of being liked and being popular. This article is made up of two parts. Part one is about how to make a male dislike you and the second part is how to make a female dislike you.

part I: Gentlemen

There’s nothing like narrowly avoiding fighting someone twice your size.

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  Step 1: get allies

  Talk to all of your friends, and your enemies friends, find out who does/doesn’t like him. Only continue with the plan if the majority don’t like him. The problem with this is some could “just be saying that” or even “change their minds” so be sure to carry a large weapon with you at all times.

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  Step 2: flirt with his girlfriend

  There’s nothing like flirting, especially when it’s with your friends girlfriend. Although I have never had the chance to experience the hate myself, as I understand it, guys take offense to having their girlfriends flirted with. Any guy with a ladyfriend obviously doesn’t understand jokes or humor, to them kidding around=they are after my property! When doing the flirting, use many sexual innuendoes. A good way to lead up to flirting is to start a “play fight” play fights always end in kinky sex and threesomes.

• 
  

  Step 3: insult his loved ones

  Up until this point, all you’ve done is annoy and anger your male enemy, it’s time to make the final blow. Have an all out insult fest where in the span of a few hours you make fun of his family, his girlfriend and be sure to tell him why you don’t like him.

  Insulting someone’s family is easy. All you have to do is comment on the state of your opponents living quarters or remind them how slow their computer is (even if yours is slower)

  Insulting your enemies dominatrix is fun! It doesn’t matter how much you like her or enjoy her company all you need to do is call her a “whore” for some odd reason, it works every time. Just that one word.

Through it all you have to remember you are doing all this for a justified reason. The only reason to never want to talk to a guy again is because of his personality. Tell him absolutely everything that bothers you about him, including habits, behavior and overall personality. Use great one line insult-combos like “you’re an arrogant prick” or ask him “do I detect a hint of homosexuality in your lifestyle?”

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