Video Blogging: One of the Three Things I Have in Common with Queen Elizabeth II

In a stubborn, lagging acquiescence to the ceaseless tide of technology, the British Royal Family has officially acquired a Youtube channel and begun releasing videos, including the Queen’s annual “Christmas Address.”

Naturally, this transition to a new medium was not without complications, but as you can see from the compiled clips below, the old gal seems to be adapting quite well. Long Blog the Queen!

P.S. Still haven't bought that microphone.

Chuck Palahniuk Reads You The News

Here's another webcam show idea I ran by CRACKED. Hope you enjoy it, as it was far too niche-specific to ever run on the site. But, we're working on some new ideas and should have something up at my CRACKED blog shortly after the holidays.

Happy Christmahannukwanzakah!

Carl's, Jr. Commercial Commentary

Here's a little webcam video I made as a test pilot to try out some ideas for a weekly show. I am still looking at putting together a weekly web show to appear either here or on my CRACKED Blog, but before I make it I promise I'm going to go buy a real microphone. In the meantime, enjoy this rough draft:

My Writing Spreads Like a Hilarious Cancer

Just wanted to let everyone know that my Alvin and the Chipmunks article (see below) got picked up by one of my favorite humor sites Yankee Pot Roast. Check it out here, and on the front page for today and tomorrow!

The Boiler Room News

Wayne Gladstone, friend of TAM!, CRACKED Blogger, and rad-pants humor writer, has started to produce daily fake news segments in his filthy-looking basement. They are short, to-the-point, and no frills; this is fake news for those who like it rough. I've embedded my personal favorite (so far) below, and you can see the rest here. They update daily. Enjoy!

How Do You People Find Us?

As users of dazzling technology, we here at TAM! are able to track every minute movement that occurs within the confines of our web-space. And something that occurs more often than you'd think is that people find our site by plugging ridiculous/disgusting/highly offensive search terms into Google.

I thought it would be fun to share some of these with you, so that you too can puzzle over how the hell some of these got users to our site, and imagine how disappointed they must have been to find only sketch comedy videos.

• Radiohead do you want another beer I want another beer
• "114 point inspection"
• "guy tied" blog clip
  
• "I now pronounce you Chuck and Larry" 2 minute monologues
• "t rex" "to bursting"
• "the mq" ucsd totally wants my nuts
• bear attack homosexual
• big titted friends
• bird trapped in walls
• bearl ives pediphile
• guys with swollen nipple on youtube
• rusty trombone video preview
• samus aran vomit
• what are 10 reasons for hikers to avoid bears?
  

Do you really need more than one? And of course, last but not least:

• unidentifiable lumps on vagina

Mmmm. Until next time TAM!sketeers!

The Next Great American Show

I just spent two days newspapering the entire interior of my home to prepare for the coming weeks' onslaught of moments that might cause me to shit myself. You see, we're just weeks away from the conclusion of one of the most unique, vibrant displays of American authorship and Queen covers. Yes'm, that clever spectacle of democracy – FOX's Next Great American Band finals.

Our lovable benefactors at FOX have provided for us the service of deciding the next truly Great American band. Just a heads up, its one of them.

Like its parent show Idol, America will end up deciding the victor of the bandstand, however, America will need some help along the way. Help coming in the form of Ian “Dicko” Dickson, Sheila E., and Goo Goo Dolls front man John Rzeznik, whose name means “butcher” in Polish.

These guys really know how to pull together an image. They know exactly what audiences want. Topping the list, of course, is having a font that looks vaguely like Star Wars and heavy metal played by kids who weren't alive to see it die.

I have never seen Australian Idol, and I assume most Americans haven't either, which is why I was displeased to find that when I googled Ian Dickson, I hadn't found the right one. In earnest, however, I do commend Band's commitment to formula – as seen here, we still need an outsider, albeit a White one (read: Brit, Aussie) to let us know how America is matching up with the rest of the world.

The man's honest though– as he publicly outed his history with alcoholism in a series of interviews last year. At one point saying: “I've done drunk, I want to try sober for a bit.” That kind of commitment to alcohol is just what American television needs: someone who may flirt with sobriety “a bit” but gives us the notification that “he'll be back” joining the fine ranks of Simon Cowell and David Hasselhoff. Ah yes, the days of “sitting on a street corner urinating in your trousers and shadow boxing” will be here soon.

In the 9-week competition, each band covers a well established recording artist each episode. Of the 7 bands so far covered, 4 have been British. I assume this is because of the show's creators' deep devotion to American History, not getting stoned and listening to rad music.

I also assume the highly successful remake of American Idol, Season 1 will lead to more reality contest branch outs in the coming years. For only good can come from publicly displaying a platter of Americans that I can choose from.

To credit this, I give you FOX's next amazing achievement of culture creationism: “The Next Great American Novel” as judged by a drunken Anglo-Saxon, Paula Abdoul clone, and John Rzeznik, whose name once again means “butcher” in Polish.

Round 1 Title: A Self-Aggrandizing Grouping of Extenuating Circumstances

Aussie: “Yoi sentence structure es shiit, I 'wear to God ni dawnt know oos talkin'!”

PA clone: “I loved it.”

The Rzez: “A tired song keeps playing on a tired radio”

Round 2 Title: Bloke

Aussie: “I looov the 'art where he farts and gets the blowjob in the hospital closet'oom!”

PA clone: “I liked it a lot.”

The Rzez: “Well, you used to be a folk singer, now you're just a joke singer / Ain't no smokin' dope singer, swingin from a rope singer .”

Round 3 Title: Oliver Twist: The American Version

Aussie: “Whut the fuck is all this, then?”

PA clone: “I loved it.”

The Rzez: “When everything's made to be broken / I just want you to know who I am.”

But in any case, they have done it. FOX is officially the cultural liaison bridging the distance between the common man and the fine arts. There's a little piece of us in every single goth, prog, indie, smooth jazz, rap, folk Christian rock group; and FOX allows us to see this.

Somewhere in the two-minute clips of less-than-subtle modern Americana, I see a faint mirage of Abe Epperson, awesome lead singer, amateur photographer, and overall great band mate. And those kinds of visions deserve titles like “great” and “idol” - because deep down, these people are America.

The Thoughts of a Ten-Year-Old, as Imagined by the Producers of Alvin and the Chipmunks

Right off the bat, let me say this: Underdog was fantastic. No one's disputing that. But those halcyon days are quickly fading from my juvenile memory, and I find myself--and I think I speak for my whole demographic here--yearning for something new. Something fresh, yet familiar. Something with Jason Lee.

And I'm not talking sequel or tie-in here. I need something completely and totally original, something so unique and young that it positively screams out to my age bracket. I'm talking franchise rebranding. And as a conscientious ten-year-old viewer, I will accept no less.

But what franchise? What long-discarded premise can be plucked from the dust of antiquity, polished and refashioned into something I, an adorable tyke, will want to see again and again? One thing's for certain: it will need some references to hip-hop culture. You know, to speak to my generation.

By the very Gods, I've got it! Alvin and the Chipmunks! What better franchise to turn into a movie than an irrelevant 80's cartoon sitcom that I've neither seen nor have any understanding of?! Much like the brilliant masterworks Inspector Gadget and Shaggy Dog, it's got the perfect mix of dated characters and plot with the opportunity for garish computer enhancement. By God, it's enough to make me wet my ten-year-old pants.

But there are a few elements missing from the original show. If they're going to make it right, make it "now," they're going to need to jazz it up a bit. And by jazz, I mean a nice gloss of fubu, some 70's funk references to go right over my head, and a healthy dose of x-treme attitude. We're talking Sonic the Hedgehog, Bart Simpson, and other characters I have only a vague understanding of. Yeah, something like that would really get me throwing desperate tantrums.

Oh, and a scene where someone eats poop! As a child, there's nothing I find funnier than fecal play. And upping the ante from a mud pie to animal waste really lets me know that this isn't my grandpa's kids movie. It's a whole new paradigm, one that's not afraid to “go there” and be “in my face.”

Naturally, the parents will need something to keep them in the seats. I can't tell you how often I've had a wonderful film experience ruined when I realized my Mom wasn't having any fun. I'm just empathetic like that, you know? So for her sake, they'd better cast an obscure underground comedian, known almost exclusively for filthy, controversial humor. Did someone say David Cross? I don't know who that is, but I'm sure Mom will find his gentrified, whitewashed bit part extremely satisfying.

So what have we got? Fubu'd out CG animals with whiny, high-pitched voices: check. There's your relatability right there. After all, I'm nothing if not a fan of black culture, and even I have to admit my voice can get a little nasally around nap time.

Next? A single-parent familial relationship that encourages unhealthy acting out and the eating of waste: check. Hell, I'm so suggestible I might just try it myself! Or better yet, I could get Mom to buy me an Alvin and the Chipmunks poop-eating playset! If they don't market something like that, they're going to be missing out on a lot of merch revenue, I can tell you that much.

And finally? A soundtrack evenly divided between classic rock and funk songs with no nostalgic significance for me and sly snippets from sexually suggestive contemporary hip-hop that I won't hear for four more years: check.

Yes, a film like that would easily be the most successful kid's movie of the year; I'd bet all of the old Mighty Max toys I inherited from my older brother on it. At least, as long as they handled the advertising properly, with plenty of trailers that make it look like an action movie and reference Beatlemania, another historical phenomenon of which I have no knowledge, but am sure would really pique my interest.

With any luck, the movie will spawn a retooled version of the old cartoon show. Then I can rock out to the a stiffly-animated Alvin and company five afternoons a week, and purchase whatever no-doubt captivating products are advertised between the eight-minute blocks of bright color and screeching.

It's certainly an exciting time to be ten years old in America. Now where's my Superfriends sippy cup?

It's Official

Go home, Stallone. Your comeback has been nice, but it ain't gonna happen, pops. We've already got the most totally awesome action star of this generation, if not the history of film. Christian Bale is officially the man's man of movie stars.

Yes, he's John Connor.

The guy is just awesome. He's intense, putting on and losing extreme amounts of weight for films as needed, and he just chooses to be in the right movies. We're not gonna see this guy go Hugh Jackman on us (see: Kate and Leopold).

Look at his characters: Batman, John Connor, guy who takes the 3:10 to Yuma - he's just an all around badass. He's even starring in the real version of Medellin. Take that, Vincent Chase.

As I have mentioned in blogs previous, as soon as the guy does something stupid and gets himself killed, Bale is a lock to play Bear Grylls. I mean, just look at these two guys...they have to be related. And say what you want about Bear Grylls being a liar...he still drank from elephant poo.

I recently spoke with Bale and he revealed to me some of the movies he will be starring in that would even further increase his rating on the awesomeness scale. Though official images have yet to be released for these films, Bale told me that I could feel free to photoshop some pictures and that they would suffice. These new projects include:

Christian Bale as 2-time Superbowl MVP and international lover Tom Brady

Christian Bale as Sean Connery in Goldfinger

and the new, printed on biodegradable film, global warming conscious film adaptation of...

Captain Planet, starring Christian Bale

The 7 Least Faithful Comic-to-Film Adaptations

Behold, the CRACKED article it took me two weeks of tedious Wikipedia research to complete! Decompress from Thanksgiving with a thoroughly nerdy dissection of 7 films and the major deviations they took from their source material. NOTE: Slightly funnier than it sounds.

Worst Case Scenario: T-Rex Edition

The overwhelming response to my recent post on the CRACKED blog regarding the Nigersaurus, "cow of the Mesozoic," made it painfully clear to me how ill-equipped the average human is to survive a dinosaur attack. There was talk of shooting Japanese gowns with BB-guns, a children's television show starring a lizard, and other nonsense that would be equally useless should a T-Rex drop in and fuck up your shit.

And because I care so much about my readership, I've scoured the net for the answer to the question mankind has been asking itself since the first caveman rubbed two stones together and was instantly devoured by a wandering Tyrannosaur: How the hell do you kill one?!

Below, three scenarios you may not find so unlikely…when they happen to YOU.

Feasible T-Rex Death Scenario 1

You’re minding your own business, tagging a herd of African elephants for an ecological conservation program, when out of nowhere a prize Tyrannosaurus Rex bursts from the herd and makes straight for you. All you have on you is a pocket knife, a mylar bag of tagging equipment, and a Barret M82A3 loaded up with depleted uranium or tungsten-cored rounds.

Your best bet: Cut a small strip of mylar from the bag with the knife, and use it as a makeshift blindfold on the Rex. Tyrannosaurus Rex’s follow their prey by sensing movement, and if they are unable to see you, they will wander off, bored.

More Than Plausible T-Rex Death Scenario 2

You and the family are out enjoying a day at the beach, when out of nowhere a Great White Shark leaps from the waves towards your precocious son Max who has been playing at the shoreline. Just before it swallows the tyke whole, an aquatic T-Rex snaps it out of the air like so much appetizer, then aims for the main course: you.

Your best bet: A Tyrannosaurus skull is as think as a phalanx infantryman’s shield, so you’re not going to be able to tackle this thing head on. As it charges, roll to the side, simultaneously pulling your umbrella out of the sand. Hurl it, javelin-like, at the spot just behind the right shoulder. This will down the Rex instantly.

Almost a Certainty T-Rex Death Scenario 3

The drug deal has gone south. Guillermo opens fire with his AK and bullets are flying everywhere. Oh, did I forget to mention? Guillermo is a fucking T-REX.

Your best bet: One word. Helicopter.

If you fear other types of T-Rex encounter, feel free to post a brief description below. Myself or a member of the community will be happy to let you know how to best protect yourself against nature's walking abattoir.

We Didn't Die

I know many of you must be wondering where the hell we've gone. Why have we left you, mirthless, cowering, shivering in a dark corner and whimpering for fear we may never return? Short answer is we went out to get some smokes. But that's all over now, so fear no longer!

As the two posts below this one elucidate, TAM! members have been up to their respective balls (eyeballs, that is) in live performances and the like. But that's all over now (huge successes all around, thank you very much) and we're finally back to doing what we do best: generating free content in the hopes that someone will send us a drunken fan email.

On the TAM! horizon, we've got a newly retooled sketch going up this week, and then we start work on our largest, flashiest, most ambitious sketch to date. We're really excited about it, so be on the lookout.

Consider the drought over, people. Can I get a Ho-sannah?

More TAM-Related Shows Than Are Healthy

Now that you're all coming to my hilarious play (details one post below this one), I thought I'd also plug the fact that Abers, Ricketts and myself (see Bio page for irrelevant and made up facts about all three of us) will be appearing in our 201 Graduation show at the UCB Theatre in Hollywood on Sunday the 18th at 3pm.

It's a free, long-form improv comedy show that is the culmination of 16 weeks of rigorous training. If you'd like to see what TAM! folks are like when they have to be funny right now, this is your chance.

Long form improv, in case you're not familiar, is just like Whose Line is it Anyway except with no games or points or Drew Carrey and more characters and narratives. It's basically a thirty-minute sketch show, generated on the spot based on a single audience suggestion. Yay!

Directions to the event. Just search for "Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre Los Angeles." Then input your home address. Then copy down the directions the site gives you. So, yes, I did nothing.

Hope to see some of you there!

Olympus, Inc.

So in case you haven't picked up the subtle product placement in the last four TAM! sketches, I have a play going up very soon called Olympus, inc. I wrote it, directed it, and am in it (I'm a regular Zach Braff!), and it's going to be showing for free at UC San Diego, as part of the Theatre and Dance Department's Cabaret season. It's kind of like a cross between the Hudsucker Proxy, The Office, News Radio and Greek Mythology, so if you're into any of those things, know that this is way better. Like, times a thousand.

The show is FREE so if you're in the San Diego area and enjoy TAM! stuff, I want to see you there. Feel free to introduce yourself to me after the show as an anonymous internet person. If I run away, jsut run after me until I slow down.

Here's a map to the place, once you're on campus.

Here's showtimes:

8PM and 11PM on Friday, November 16th.
2PM and 8PM on Saturday, November 17th.

There will also be an invited dress rehearsal at 7PM on Thursday, November 15th, but there's no telling how much that will suck.

Above, please find a poster with a cast list and the information I just gave you repeated for no reason. You can click it if you want to see a bigger version.

COOOOOOOOME!

Today UCSD, Tomorrow UCSB!

If you happen to be a UCSD student or on campus, or for some bizarre reason subscribe to the campus newspaper The Guardian, check out the nifty interview with us in the Focus section of Monday's issue.

Admittedly, if you read this blog we're probably not doing much good publicity-wise by directing you to an article telling you to come to this site, but at least you'll get to see pictures of us making asses of ourselves. More pictures, I mean. And hell, if you're a true fan, maybe pass the issue along to a close friend or stranger on the subway. Yes, the San Diego subway.

The word-of-mouth phenomenon starts now!

We've done it. It's done. We can't UNdo it.

Thanks to your rabid fandom and dedicated viewing, Those Aren't Muskets! celebrated the arrival in the mail of their very first ad revenue check from Revver for a whopping 21 dollars and change. Thanks, guys! We decided what better way to reward our most loyal fans than to use the money to degrade ourselves and make a video for you? The results below.



Clearly, TAM! love their fans. Thanks a ton kiddies; here's hoping we can net thirty bucks in November and eat something even more awful.

Eight Things Not to Tell Your Son When He Asks What You and Mommy Were Just Doing in the Other Room

1. “Fighting. Well, in a manner of speaking. It’s more like our genitals were fighting.”
2. “Discussing sex taxes. I mean taxes.”
3. “Head on in and ask your mother; I think she’s still wiping up.”
4. “Something you’ll now imagine thirty times a day for the rest of your life.”
5. “Poundin’ that poon like it owed me money! Am I right?!” Then go for the high-five.
6. “Do you know what a Cowgirl is? Like that, but reversed.”
7. “It’s kind of a delicate process there tiger. How should I explain this? You see, when mommy and daddy get certain feelings…you know what? I’ll just show you.”
8. “Making you about ten million little brothers and sisters. Only they’re all dead now.”

Why I Love Balls, by Samus Aran

Of all of the powers imparted to me by my battle suit, I’d have to say my favorite is the one where I turn into a tiny ball and roll around. Don’t ask me how it works; I got the suit from this guy at a party, and I didn’t really ask that many questions.

For a while, I didn’t even know I could turn into a ball. I mostly just shot stuff in my backyard with my plasma cannon. By the way, plasma cannon? Sounds cool, until you realize it's only about as powerful as a machine gun, and machine guns still let you use your fucking hand.

Anyway, one day I was trying to override some PAL thing so I could watch an import of Amelie my friend sent me, and I must have hit a switch or something, because all of a sudden I was the size of a small pumpkin, scuttling around my apartment not knowing what the fuck. Then I couldn’t figure out how to turn back!

It took me three days of rolling around eating food I’d left on the floor before I figured out I could drop one of those plasma bombs and hop up onto the kitchen counter. Ruined the hardwood flooring I'd just installed. And let me tell you: the inside of that ball was plastered with vomit in those days.

Yeah, it’s pretty disorienting having your bones and organs feng shui’d into a small sphere. But, you know, you get used to it. And now I love that damn ball. Anytime I’m getting my tight, toned ass handed to me by a space pirate or awkwardly bump into an ex on the street…ball and bomb, baby. Takes care of everything. I’ve left more than a few of my exes, mouth agape, with third degree plasma burns over the front half of their bodies while I roll happily away.

Also, thanks to being forced into that position all the time, I can go down on myself now. So if you’re ever at a party and a mysterious drifter offers you a battle suit for forty bucks and a lap dance, my advice would be to take him up on it. I did, and I couldn’t be happier. I still haven’t seen Amelie, though.

Funny, but in a Sad Way

My latest CRACKED article gives you, if nothing else, access to ten hilarious/depressing videos of celebrities being drunk. Some are more soul-crushing than others, and some are just flat out hilarious (Alex Trebek is my personal favorite, although Orson Welles is a close second). Enjoy!

The Day is Mine! Well, OURS really.

Yes, we were wrong yet again about the sketch upload date. Dennubis, you gain 50 xp for your successful perception roll.

But no longer, my friends! Today, the CRACKED.com main page has been laid waste by the combined forces of TAM! There's my blog entry about how your iPhone is killing you, my article about Star Wars actors' post-Star Wars career, and, of course, our brand new sketch Sharon and the Girls, finally being presented on a computer screen near you.

Naturally, you can also check out Sharon and the Girls on our main page, as soon as our webmaster wakes up and posts it. I'd do it myself, but I'm engaged in other business (read: don't want to). Anyway, as delayed as it may have been, hope you like the sketch and the articles, and Digg/forward them into oblivion.

TAM! Blog, I've Been Unfaithful

It's sad but true. I have needs, TAM! Blog, needs that you can't fulfill. Like being paid for posting. Mmmm, sweet sweet cheddar. That's right; CRACKED are actually giving me cash money to write about inane shit, just like I do here, only with more celebrity news mixed in. If that sounds like just your cup of tea, then I probably wouldn't like you if we met in person. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't race to your computer (which you are already presumably at) to check me out over at the all new redesigned CRACKED Blog. As a little taste, here's the vid I uploaded today for my first official entry. Enjoy!

No One Tells Us Anything

And then we lie to you. And baby, you know we'd never do that shit intentionally, right? We sorry baby boo, we be trippin'. But the real deal, for serious this time (I am told) is that CRACKED is relaunching on THURSDAY NIGHT. So keep those hors d'oeuvres warmed, those beers chilled, and those clicking fingers at the ready. Thursday. Night.

In the meantime, here's a link to my latest CRACKED article about movie source materials. If you, you know, want to practice your clicking in preparation for Thursday, you could, you know, oh gosh, digg my article maybe? I mean if you're not doing anything.

Tomorrow! Tomorrow!

Everyone be sure to check out our brand new sketch going up on the CRACKED front page tomorrow! The page is going to be all shiny and retooled, and we're counting on the millions of people who read this blog to convince CRACKED to keep us around by getting them a billion hits a second. That's a tall order, but I'm sure you guys can pull it off. Contact estranged relatives, set up TAM! release parties at your local auditorium, write a program that repeatedly loads the page. In short, DO YOUR DUTY. We're counting on you, musketeers.

Abe and Michael in the Kitchen

In order to provide our true fans--those willing to take the extra click and read our blog--with some incentive for doing so, we've decided to start filming some short sketches of what we do around the house, sort of a behind-the-scenes type of thing. These vids will only be on the blog, not the main page, so if you want to really get to know the men and women behind the muskets, this is the place to be. Hope you like it!

The 7 Most Gruesome Legends in Rock

Wanted to hook you guys up with a fresh, hot, steaming link to my newest CRACKED article profiling gross legends from the bowels of rock and roll history. As a special bonus, I'm even going to hook you up with two entries that got cut out when the title was changed from "Most ENTERTAINING Legends in Rock." Below, the deleted scenes:

The Legend:

Enraged after their breakup, and finally watching a complete episode of “Full House” and suffering the mild brain anyeurism that is the inevitable result, Alanis Morissette wrote the vitriolic “You Oughta Know” about all-around good guy and Bullwinkle impersonator Dave Coulier, AKA Joey Gladstone.

Rating:

One copy of Robert Johnson's pact with the Devil.

Why we hope it's true:

Because the lyrics “Did you forget about me, Mr. Duplicity?/I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner/It was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced/And are you thinking of me when you fuck her?” being directed at Joey “the one who's not John Stamos” Gladstone is one of the most hilarious things we've ever heard. It's next to impossible not to imagine a brokenhearted Gladstone listening to the song, running into Alanis on the street the next day and angrily telling her to cut...it...out!

Yeah, but is it?

Most likely. Alanis has never denied it directly, and admits that it is about a real relationship from her past. Coulier has stated that he thinks it's about him, since the woman he dated after Morissette could have been called “an older version” of her, and because the song includes a reference to her “bugging him in the middle of dinner,” which she apparently did a lot, we're guessing to ask him to do his Popeye voice.

The Legend:

After Paul McCartney introduced then-friend Michael Jackson to the lucrative opportunities available to someone purchasing the publishing rights to the music catalog of a popular performer, Jackson put the principle to work by outbidding McCartney on the Beatles' catalog, of which is now the sole owner.

Rating:

Two live Elvises.

Why we hope it's true:

The rich and famous betraying one another is like candy to us poor slobs, so the idea of Jacko stabbing Paul in the back is fraught with natural appeal. Remember when Phillips started using “Getting Better” in their TV commercials and you thought it was blasphemy? Blame Jacko, locked up in his hyperbaric chamber, pale flesh and silicone, brooding over a nest of pilfered Beatles classics. And imagine poor Paul, having to deal with the sobering thought of losing out on billions of dollars in potential income. What will he ever do to survive now that all his money has been stolen by one-legged gold diggers? If he's even alive, that is.

Yeah, but is it?

Yes, but it's way more boring and complicated than you think. Suffice it to say that Paul still gets a healthy amount of money, Jackson has very specific and limited rights over the music, and an explanation of copywright law is probably the worst thing to ever consider including in a humor article.

Announcing an Unlikely Alliance

Okay, it's not really all that unlikely. In fact, if you're familiar with the storied history of Those Aren't Muskets! or are reasonably astute, it's more of an inevitable development. But, nevertheless, an ALLIANCE!

As part of CRACKED.com's relaunch next week, TAM! will be filming a brand new sketch that will appear on the main page in what we are promised is a very prominent position. A bunch of folks read CRACKED, so this is a pretty big deal for us, especially since the relaunch is going to make the site more video-centric that its current incarnation.

What does this mean for you, the fan? Well, basically it means you don't have to wait a week for another sketch, as we have agreed to get the finished product online by October 4th (AKA Thursday). So look for it on our site and at CRACKED.com, and make us as famous as we clearly deserve to be.

Abe and Michael Have Been Reprimanded

Apologies for the nonsensical and vaguely offensive youtube posts last night. Abe and Michael were somewhat out of sorts, and I, the disembodied voice of Those Aren't Muskets!, have made sure they understand full well not to waste the public's time on such erroneous tripe. A few minutes in "the box" worked like a charm.

As compensation for the offense, I can only promise you a brand new TAM! sketch (and our longest yet, at that), to be uploaded within a day. Watch the skies!

These Are the Sexiest LADEES!!!1!

Is This Only This Funny to Us?

Mom, if You’re Reading This, the Washing Machine Finished

This is what I look like now.
Thanks for the neglect.
Hey Mom! Remember when you came by my house before? I think it was on a Wednesday. Whenever it was, Abe and I were drinking Jager and playing Mario Strikers on the Wii (that’s the soccer one). I know that doesn’t narrow it down much, but anyway, you were there, and you made dinner and put some of my clothes in the wash. But it’s been about a week, and I think the washer’s done.

It keeps buzzing, like, every ten minutes or so. Could you come by maybe and move whatever you put in there to the drier? I’d do it myself, but I don’t want to mess anything up. You know how I am with gadgets. I already tried throwing tennis balls at it, yelling at it, and putting in ear plugs. That helped with the noise, but I checked my closet later and there still weren’t any clean clothes there.

Abe tried to hack the washer with his laptop, but I guess our washer doesn’t have T3 or something, because he kept saying his appletalk wasn’t networking right. So I’d really appreciate it if you could come and get the clothes from the one machine to the other.

And, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d also really appreciate it if you didn’t put me in this kind of predicament next time you visit. Remember what you always used to tell us: if you’re going to start something, make sure you something something. I usually zoned out at that point, but you get what I'm saying.

Also, could you bring some more of that tuna salad? We already ate through all of what you brought last time. It’s pretty good, I guess. Maybe use fresher tuna this time? You can get Ahi-grade for a pretty good price at the Japanese market on Convoy.

If Convoy’s too far, you can borrow my car when you get here; I can store your bike in our garage. Oh, also, thanks for the car! Although sometimes the side mirrors get dirty if I park outside. Maybe it’s defective?

Hope you read the blog soon! My last pair of underwear is getting pretty unbearable. I’d call, but my cell phone died and it won’t charge anymore, even though I put it in the drawer next to the charger for like a week.

Love,

Your son.

Infinite Recursion Blogging

This probably qualifies as an e/n post, but as a starstruck geek, I don't really care. However, I did embed a video both humorous and amorous (above), so as to give those with no personal interest in me something shiny to look at.

More to the point...so I wrote that article about webcomics for CRACKED yeah? Well, as I secretly hoped, one of the artists profiled mentioned the article in his text today! If you don't see it, find Sept. 13th. Yes, folks, that's right: I had indirect, machine-based contact with an internet celebrity!

I actually enjoy Overcompensating very much (hence it making the list in the first place), so I thought that was fairly cool.

It just goes to show you: all that hard work will eventually pay off. Also, that internet "Best of" lists are inherently full of shit, since they are generally written by one individual, rearranged by another (the site's editor) and hastily published so as to meet internal deadlines.

But yes, Jeffrey Rowland blogged about my blog, and now I'm blogging about that. The circle is complete.

ADDENDUM: Ryan North over at Dinosaur Comics also mentioned my article. TWO FOR TWO BABY!

SECOND ADDENDUM: Also Achewood! And, even though this mention is the smallest and most indirect of all, it represents one of the highlights of my life thus far. How sad.

Phone Etiquette, Volume 1

A conversation I had with an CalArts Film School Application counselor. To better represent the conversation and hide the identity of the counselor, I have replaced her name with "Shameless."

Me: Hi, I'm a prospective graduate applicant, I had a few questions about your letter of recommendation procedures?

Shameless: Yes. We're not taking them now, but we will soon.

Me: oh. (silence) I wanted to know more, really.

Shameless: Oh well, I have some information about that (sounds of looking through paper).

Me: Good, I was looking to get my hands on that.

Shameless (laughing): I'm sorry, what was that?

Me: Um, When it says the letters ought to be "sealed," how sealed are we talking here?

Shameless: Oh, like an envelope.

Me: Ah. Is that all?

Shameless: I don't know, you said you had a few questions?

Me: Oh no, I was talking about the envelopes.

Shameless: What?

Me: Nothing, nothing. We're all done here!

8 Excellent Webcomics...

...is what I would have titled my newest CRACKED article if I feared getting called a shitfart by everyone on the internet who reads ctrl+alt+del. Nevertheless, because I'm told it gets more hits and because I love getting yelled at by people who don't know me, I hereby present The 8 Funniest Webcomics of All Time Throughout the Universe and all Known and Unknown Dimensoins.

Enjoy!

8 Shared Future Visions and Why They'll Never Be

CRACKED.com's got another article by yours truly up on their front page right now, and even though they cut it from an epic 4,000 words to a more reasonable 2,000, it's still jam-packed with pure Swaim magic. Diggs all around!

You can scope it here, and comment on it below. I hope it makes your life momentarily more bearable.

Search History of a Thirteen-Year-Old Who Just Discovered the Internet

HINT: Just like a real drop menu, it reads from bottom to top. WHEEEEEEE!

Leader of the Third Streich!

Hello fan base. Abe speaking. My only goal in blogging is to be declared worthy in your eyes. As you will see, I will attempt anything to accomplish this.

As per our arrangement, here is my first and only accomplishment thus far:

After an onslaught of failed Wii games, Nintendo has finally got it right with their new soccer conquest: Mario Strikers. A game in which Peach, Bowser, Luigi, and the whole gang battle royale to determine the victor of a pseudo-World Cup. As many of you are familiar, the Wii system allows you to play an online multiplayer bout with a custom built "Mii" who's name and appearance may be altered to your many disgusting specifications.

My friend Steve and I built Hitler, the Soccer Fuhrer. For the last three weeks, we've been attempting one thing and one thing only: to become if only for a brief moment, the World-wide "Striker of the Day." As you can see, attaining this highly prestigious honor bestows your likeness upon every Wii in the area. In our collective mind, to be displayed on all players Wiis is the ultimate in soccer accomplishment. Last Friday at 2:30 AM, Steve and I honed our skills so finely, we completed our task.

All bow down to the glory that is Hitler, Wii Soccer extraordinaire.

I Bow Down

So, in our video Porn Vblog, during the title sequence, we (very briefly) used the song "Little Spanish Flea" by Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. While I found the song choice hilarious, I have to admit, this youtube clip may put it to even better use.



Alternate theory: The song "Little Spanish Flea" is funny no matter what video it's put to. I expect a thousand video responses proving this.

A Bittersweet Farewell to a Rising TAM! Star

Hello, massive fanbase!

Just wanted to let you know we're planning on expanding the cast a bit around here, and introduce you to one of our newest acquisitions: the multitalented, bescruffed Brett Rader. Above, the best picture of him we could possibly locate. You can see him French Stewart-ing it up in our latest video update The Pimp, and expect more of him in the months to come.

Well...eventually. Unfortunately B-Rader is going overseas for the Fall (to “England” or some such nonsense), but watch for him in our next update (already shot, suckas!) and in January when he returns, almost certainly with an unbearable accent.

In the meantime, we wish Brett godspeed as he ventures forth to do the Lord's work in the heathen lands across the pond.

And So Dawns a New Age

Please let me, the disembodied, collective voice of Those Aren't Muskets, be the first to welcome you to the official Those Aren't Muskets! blog! This post is meant to be a transition of sorts, between the backlog of humor articles from Michael's old CRACKED blog The Specious and the glorious future that is this site's affiliation with the sketch troupe of the same name.

To those of you coming here from the TAM! main page:

Hey, check it out, it's our blog! This is where Abe, Michael, and I (who am both and yet paradoxically neither) will post funny internet shit, minutiae about our own lives or the progress of the site/troupe, and the occasional humor article. In fact, if you aren't acquainted with Michael's old blog, you'll notice a near-infinite trove of humor articles stretching out beneath this post, all pirated straight from The Specious archives for your viewing pleasure.

Feel free to explore! Dig deep enough and you may even find the fabled 2006 articles, which prove that Michael was a shitty, fumbling hack of a comedy writer no more than a year ago!

To those coming from The Specious:

Michael still loves you very much. The Specious hasn't gone away; it's here in spirit, and it lives on through Those Aren't Muskets! Michael plans to keep cracking out humor both for this blog and for CRACKED. Consider this an evolution; an awakening, if you will, into a world of multimedia synergy.

Speaking of multimedia, if you have somehow gotten all the way to this blog without checking out our main video sketch page, allow me to plug. Educate yourself, friend.

And so a toast: to growth, change, and comedy. May the videos be viral, the posts be e/n, and the authorial voice be unnecessarily formal.

6 Video Game Gimmicks That Went Away Too Soon (And 6 That Need to Die)

Hey all! CRACKED.com put a new article of mine on their front page today, so I thought I'd drop you a link. It's about gaming tropes that disappeared too soon, and their counterparts, the gaming tropes that we wish would die a screaming death. Enjoy!

Most Memorable Non-Actor Cameos

Sure, an actor can be great in a movie. Big deal; that's what they're paid for. On the other hand, it takes a particular brand of savoir faire for a non-actor to really shine in a role. Those profiled in my latest CRACKED article, however, are not those great non-actors. These, rather, are the non-actors whose performances were memorable for being short, gimmicky, and often helping define the term "non-actor." Let us honor them, and their brief moment of fame.

The Sado-Masochistic Fisherman

Howdy, you worthless worms! Welcome to another installment of the Sado-Masochistic Fisherman, the only syndicated late-night fishing program that hurts so good! Today, we’re fishing in desolate Pyramid Lake, California, a barren waste of a place with nothing but highway and desert in every direction. They say the only fish you can catch here are sour-tasting, miserable bastards made hard by their hellish existence, and that’s just what we’re looking for!

Today I’ve chosen as my craft a small, aluminum dinghy I found behind a warehouse. It’s about six feet from bow to stern, and the only seat is a splintered strip of what I believe is house siding. It’s about a hundred and four degrees out today, so the metal’s heating up nicely. As always, I’ve got my black leather assless chaps on, so I’m getting a pretty intense burning sensation in the old rump. Mmm, yeah, that’s nice. Really grind those metal shavings in there.

As you can see, I’ve modified the self-flagellation whip from our craft section to serve as my pole today. All I did was I took the bits of glass and leather strips from the end of the whip and attached them to the grip with some hot glue. Then I simply ran a line through the hooks we used to hang ourselves from the ceiling for our “Waterless Scuba Dive” last week. Now this pole here doesn’t have a reel, but I prefer to just wrap the line around my forearm; that way it digs in a bit when the fish pull.

Now of course you could go buy something like this in a store, but I think there’s a lot of fun to be had making your own pole, and all you really need is some time, patience, some barbed wire to punish yourself if you make a mistake, and a big tube of bactine. And then, look, you’ve got this beauty sinking it’s lovely teeth into my palm as I grip and cast. Oh god yes. Do it pole. More. Mmmm.

Alright, so while we’re waiting for a bite, let me just tell you a bit about the hooks and lures we’ll be using today. The hook is a special-made German rotary blade, first used by Nazi forces in World War Two to extract information from prisoners. Of course this is a much smaller version of that, but the fourteen rusty spring-loaded blades work much the same way. As an added feature, they’re all carefully positioned to avoid fatally wounding the victim, or, in our case, the small mouth bass.

For bait today I’m using just some nightcrawlers I had nailed to the wall a few feet away from a mound of moist soil in my garden shed. I’ve kept them alive, since the wriggling helps attract the fish, but I’ve soaked them in bitters overnight. You can usually get bitters from your local liquor store, and I’ll tell you, the fish just hate it. To mask that, I’ve got some store-bought fish lure on there, which I’ve spiked with a powerful laxative.

Ooh, looks like we’ve got a bite! Boy howdy, he’s a rascal! That’s right, you little maggot, pull! Pull! Oh, god, yes. Oh, you like that? You like that, you little fish piece of crap? Mmm, yeah, gimme more. That’s it. Make it hurt...All right! Well, that was a tough bout there, but it looks like we won the day. And see, you can tell by the grimacing expression on the fish’s face, he didn’t like those bitters at all. And see the blades there, all popping out at different angles? It’s amazing, but this little guy can live for up to six hours with those blades in. So, let’s watch, shall we?

That’s right, flop. Just flop away boy. Mmm. As you can see, I’ve done a little set dressing here around the fish. I’ve just put up some framed photos of other fish, possible family members, what have you, and some glasses of lake water. The trick is to put everything just out of reach, so you get the most vigorous flopping out of your bass. Oops! There goes the laxative! Well, he’s flopping pretty good now, so I’m going to manually pleasure myself. Join us next week, when we convince a Marlin that his wife has been killed by a Carbon Monoxide leak!

Author Mashup 1: John Grisham Writes a Fantasy Novel

Mitch Gavelneck sank deeper into the lacquered wood of his seat. How had he, son of Roland Districtattorney and star litigator for the firm of Warlock, Liebniz and Shambling Wight, come to this? He shot a quick glance to his right, hoping his client was behaving himself.

In the seat next to him, Grimwald had his leg up to his face and was picking his overstuffed feet with one of his sharp front teeth. Mitch grimaced and pulled his Giorgio Armani pinstripe cloak tighter about himself.

A goblin, for Baal's sake. And an all-dwarf jury, too. Their beady eyes gleamed at him like coal across the dusky air of the courtroom. Each one spotted Grimwald in turn, invariably fluffing their beards in disgust.

“Must you do that?” Mitch said to his client in broken Goblish. Unfortunately, he only knew what little of the language he'd picked up on the streets of Ta'Kalaaan'Shaaz as a thieving orphan, and what he actually said amounted to an offer of boiled prunes and manual release. In any case, Grimwald payed no heed, and instead applied himself vigorously to the other foot.

“GAVELNECK!”

The booming voice of Judge Hill Giant snapped Mitch out of his self-pity. He shot upright in his seat and spoke in a tone of practiced deference.

“Yes, your honor?”

Hill Giant pointed the business end of his enormous gavel at Mitch. “Me eat you!”

“Are you saying you want to hear closing statements, your honor?”

“GAVELNECK!” He shouted again, the force of his voice sending the entire room into a tremble. He dropped his gavel. “EAT! GAVEL...EAT?” He scooped the gavel up with a meaty paw and stuffed it into his mouth.

The old bastard wasn't going to cut him any slack, Mitch thought bitterly.

“Of course, Sir,” he said, “I'll limit my statements.”

Sighing, Mitch took to his weary feet. If he was going to pull this out, he had to make some magic happen, and it he had to do it now. He turned to address the jury, all of whom looked grim and several of whom were giving him the finger in ways he assumed they thought subtle.

“Dwarves and Dwarvettes of the jury. May I say your beards are looking very fine today? I'd just like to say that right out of the gate.”

Mitch steepled his slender fingers and grinned in the way that had never failed to attract the interest of a lusty tavern wench at the local Inn. He plowed on.

“I'll be brief. My client Grimwald, like all of us, exists at the behest of the Ancient and All-Knowing Elder Gods. And I believe it was Gairan, God of the plains, who put it best when at the dawn of time he spoke forth the word of law. And that holy writ, as we now interpret it in the form of Ta'Kalaaan'Shaaz City Zoning Statute J9-A, maintains that no one, not even a filthy, horrible goblin, can be forced from their rightful property due to malignancy, foul odor, or enchanted night-howls without due financial compensation from the Council of Lords. And, considering the immense emotional hardship Grimwald has undergone, he is entitled to no less that three hundred silver pieces in punitive damages.”

The room was as silent as if someone had cast a Ward of Darkness enchantment. Tension filled the air. Had he persuaded them? The Dwarves looked at one another, psychically communicating, their hive mind buzzing with argument and conclusion. Even Judge Hill Giant's gavel chewing seemed somehow thoughtful.

A minute of tense silence passed. Mitch fumbled in his robe pocket for his magic, jury-reading amulet. He couldn't wait for the verdict; he had to know. He stole a glance at the talisman's faceted face: blue. Guilty.

“Uh,” he stammered quickly, “also, may I remind the jury that this is not a criminal trial, and so cannot end in a 'guilty' verdict.”

A ripple of grunts swept over the jury, and the amulet flashed from blue to pink.

Damn. They were going to screw him. Grimwald would get nothing, and Mitch would likely lose his choice job at the firm. As the jury foredwarf rose from his seat, heightening him a full two inches, Mitch rapidly pondered his options. Before the stocky dwarf could open his mouth to render the verdict, Mitch had acted.

Arm raised, he spoke an incantation, and a massive sphere of roiling flame sprouted from his fingers. It grew as it tumbled towards the jury, their shocked faces now bathed in orange light. A few seconds later, and the jury box had become little more than a used tinderbox, filled with twelve perfect dwarf skeletons, each knee-deep in the ash of its late owner.

Judge Hill Giant spit his splintered gavel out in shock, spraying Grimwald and Mitch with bits of soggy wood.

In the dying glow of his own fireball, Mitch smiled.

“The defense rests.”

The 9 Most Typecast Actors

If you're not reading this headline twice (once on the blog feed and once on the CRACKED main page), then chances are you haven't seen my new article on the CRACKED main page! I have the remedy.

Notes to Matt Groening from FOX Censors Regarding The Simpsons Movie

Matt—

Wanted to check in and let you know we all really love the directions you’ve taken the Simpsons in for their first film (of many…remember your contract!), and while we appreciate you stretching your wings a bit in the transition, we do still want to nab that PG-13 rating. With that in mind, please look over the below list of some of the studio’s thoughts about the current cut.

• Marge’s hair is a bit phallic for our tastes. Maybe for the movie she could get a nice bob or shoulder-length cut? Or, and we don’t want to interfere here, but maybe her hair is burned off in a chemical fire in the first act? In any case, we’re just not comfortable with one of the main characters’ hair being shaped like an erect blue penis. It invites the audience to imagine a giant blue vagina into which it might fit, and that’s going to hurt our opening weekend box office.



• This isn’t a ratings concern so much, but one of our interns pointed out that the skin swatches you sent to the animators all came out pretty yellow. It’s hard to notice at first, but take a look at Homer and Bart especially. Good thing we caught that one! That’s the benefit of working with a studio that pays attention to the shows it produces.



• You may not have noticed this yourself, but Mr. Burns’ evil plan to gain control of Springfield is startlingly similar to the September 11th attacks. In fact, it’s pretty much identical.



• Most of us thought the sequence where Bart goes full frontal is hilarious, but there’s a few folks on the board who worry it might encourage pedophiles to attend the film. But between you and me: their money’s as good as anyone’s, right? I say leave it in. In fact, I have some sketches I did of Cherri and Terri naked if you’re looking to add any scenes to counterbalance Bart’s. No pressure, but it could really play for the pervert demographic.



• We really think it’s best to stick with the show’s formula of “Bart crank calls Moe, Moe threatens to gruesomely murder him, but gets sidetracked or outsmarted before he can follow through.” The joke kind of loses its levity when Moe is able to track Bart down, keep him in an underground torture room for three weeks, and finally strangle him with his own intestines. And the scenes of Homer and Marge in tears at their son’s grave really didn’t do much for us either.



• Again, try and maintain a sense of cartoonish disconnect when dealing with violent sequences like the Itchy and Scratchy short at the beginning. Pasting Itchy and Scratchy’s faces onto footage of US soldiers gunning down Vietnamese POW’s isn’t just lazy animation, it’s downright haunting.



• We’re pretty sure Maggie has only spoken once in the course of the series, so we were wondering what the thought process was behind having her curse like a sailor every time she appears onscreen.



• Your character notes say that Homer is thirty-eight, and that he impregnated Marge right out of High School, yet his oldest son is only ten years old. We still want you to account for the missing decade, but honestly, we think you can come up with something better than the rather convoluted forced alien insemination storyboard sequence you sent over. Although we did like the S&M Kang and Kodos designs. Possible toy line?



• We like most of the funny signs you’ve got in the backgrounds of shots. We were only concerned with the one in the Church of Springfield establishing shot that reads “Woman was God’s second mistake…Nietzsche.” We’ve already got the NOW broads on our nuts enough of the time; do we have to give them another reason to get on the rag?



• We understand that Smither’s homosexuality has always been a running joke on the show, but we appreciated the subtlety and subdued nature with which it was handled in the past. Please, consider eliminating the Otto/Smithers/Moleman daisy chain sequence.



• In one sequence, Lenny clearly refers to Carl as a “spade.”



• We notice that at the end of the movie, things seem pretty resolved. The kids have come to terms with Homer’s death due to a failed liver, Marge and Moe have worked through most of their major problems, and Bart’s drug problem is more or less on the wane. We’re worried you’ve painted yourself into a corner in terms of sequel potential. We don’t want The Simpsons to go the Harry Potter route and only get seven movies out of the franchise. We’re looking at more of a James Bond film dynasty here, with Homer voiced by various actors as time goes on. In light of that, and of course without sacrificing the integrity of the ending you have now, try and make sure everything ends in exactly the same state as it began. If it’ll help, we can probably get Nicole Richie to do a guest voice.

A Man Whose Hands Were Bitten Off By Shamu's Guide to Seaworld

So you say you’ve saved up all year, and it’s time to take the family on vacation. Unfortunately, with so many getaway spots competing for your time and money, it’s hard to know where to go. That’s why I decided to write this totally objective and unbiased guide to SeaWorld San Diego. Is SeaWorld right for your family? Let me answer that with another question: do you hate your children and want them to be maimed or killed by sea mammals?

If so, and assuming Disneyland, Universal Studios, Six Flags, Knott’s Berry Farm, Wild Rivers and the local whorehouse have all burned down, you can’t do much better than the home of Shamu, the filthy, man-eating Orca. Did you know an Orca is also called a killer whale? Did you further know that their jaws are capable of snapping a man’s hands off like baby carrots? Read on for even more unbiased and objective tips about getting the most from your visit to the overpriced, deadly hellhole that is SeaWorld.

First thing you should know is, get there early. The parking situation is hopeless; people sometimes park so far from the front gate that by the time they get there, the park is closed. Then, on the way back, they have to deal with the roving street gangs. And being stabbed to death in front of your screaming children takes almost all the fun out of paying 65 dollars to get splashed with filthy animal water.



Oh, that’s another thing: you WILL get wet. If the animals don’t splash or spray you with tank water—essentially a soup comprised of one part water and one part seal urine—then one of the park’s employees will get the job done. You’ve never seen the kind of fetishistic pleasure a pimply SeaWorld employee takes in soaking your white shirt through to the skin. They have spray cans, misters, saliva; ANYTHING to assure your unfortunately oversized nipples are staring, brown and unsightly, at every attractive woman you pass for the rest of the day.

This, of course, is assuming you get through the front gate. They have hand sensors that scan your palm print in order to determine your identity. Unfortunately for some of us whose hands are otherwise engaged, this means even getting in is a big hassle. Not to mention the taunting knobs and levers you will encounter once inside, or the fact that none of the concessions are modified so as to be eaten by the handless. So if you’re manually disabled, it’s probably best to just head home and masturbate by rubbing yourself against the couch.



For those lucky enough to have all their limbs, be sure NOT to check out the dolphin exhibit. Manta rays are tolerable, but dolphins are, to be honest, pretty goddamned snooty. Sea lions and seals are basically the same thing, so just see one of them. Ditto otters. Flamingos, it’s like who gives a fuck? And then the rest is just overpriced spinning lights and ice cream bars that cost nine bucks because they’re shaped like a whale.

Also, and I don’t know if this is a part of the show or anything, but when I was there, Shamu bit someone’s fucking hands off. And believe me, no amount of settlement money spent on developing an inconspicuous whale poison will ever make you feel whole again.

Well, I think that’s basically all you need to know, and my nubs are getting raw from continuously mashing the keyboard. I hope you enjoyed this totally objective guide to Sea “Shamu is a monster and should be put down” World.

Reasons “I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry” is Outperforming “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix” at the Box Office

All the Harry Potter fans are too busy reading “Deathly Hallows” so they can ruin the ending for their friends (Hint: Guess who’s an android? It’s Ron. Ron is an android).

People just can’t resist the guaranteed comedy gold of an obligatory five-minute Rob Schneider cameo.

Harry’s wand is purely a symbol for his phallic coming of age, while Kevin James’ is the genuine, albeit horrible, article.

The sophisticated take “Chuck and Larry” presents vis a vis gay rights, marriage law, and the morality of justified deceit is far more edifying than a bunch of hackneyed, overdone Hollywood tripe.

Everyone’s apparently forgotten all the inoffensive gay jokes they heard at cocktail parties in the 1980’s.

This may be the last time we get to see Adam Sandler play himself until “Click” premieres on CBS.

Gay men can’t resist a chance to imagine Adam Sandler and Kevin James making sweet love.

Straight men can’t resist a chance to imagine Adam Sandler being painfully sodomized.

“Order of the Phoenix” kind of lost its punch once you know that ultimately, Harry kills himself after the long, uneventful stewardship of a failing investment banking firm.

Of the two, only “Chuck and Larry” boasts jokes funny enough to make you smirk and mutter, “That was funny.”

The Producers of “Chuck and Larry” finally buckled and included an action-packed Quidditch match near the end of the movie.

A lot of people who were going to go see the Harry Potter movie got held up at the NERD CONVENTION!

A good number of children accidentally went to “Hairy Pooter and the Order of the Penis” by mistake.

This:

is more attractive than this:

The IT Department's Guide to Troubleshooting your PC

The IT Department has been flooded with calls since the company switched to Windows Vista, and in order to lessen the overwhelming traffic of tech support inquiries, they ask that all employees try the following troubleshooting techniques before contacting IT.

Problem: My computer won't start up!

1. Check to make sure that the computer is plugged in. If it isn't, plug it in and mention this embarrassment to no one.
2. Using one hand, hold down control+tab+shift+7+M as the computer starts up. If you are able to do this, you should consider taking up the piano.
3. Jiggle all cables. Lightly hit CPU and/or monitor. Mutter “come on, come on.”
4. If applicable, take your penis out of the CD tray and reboot.

Problem: My computer keeps crashing!

1. Restart your PC. Once it is on, uninstall Windows Vista.
2. If problem persists, try making the CD-tray go out and in a bunch of times.
3. If your PC still crashes, attempt to appropriate an adjacent cubicle while a neighboring employee is in the bathroom. When he or she returns, pretend to have assumed their identity in their absence. Live their life, go home to their family, and enjoy their perfectly working computer.

Problem: I poured an entire can of Arizona Iced Tea over my keyboard and CPU!

1. See below problem.
2. Purchase a Macintosh.

Problem: I'm a total fucking moron!

1. Read the manual. Whenever you feel confused, grunt absentmindedly and raise your hand until someone asks what the problem is.
2. Take a series of general education night courses at your local community college.
3. Purchase “smart pills,” available from Greg in the IT Department for only $50 a bottle.

Problem: An error of type “ROTFLBBQ!!11!1!404loln00b!” has occurred!

1. Your computer has likely been infiltrated by hackers, or you have downloaded a virus. If you recently installed any new software, uninstall it immediately.
2. Delete all files on your computer, and shoot the CPU with a carbine rifle loaded with silver bullets.
3. Confess your impurity to an ordained priest.
4. Learn to compute with paper and pen or, failing that, an abacus.

Problem: My mouse is an actual mouse!

1. Let go of the mouse, and do not attempt to interact with the computer using it. Hide all cheese.
2. Locate your computer mouse, and use it to bludgeon the real mouse into a stupor.
3. Tend to mouse bite-wounds.
4. Put in for a transfer to a non rat-infested area of the building.

Problem: I am facing away from my computer!

1. Rotate in your fancy office chair, and thank God that you don't have to sit in spine-curling, wooden-backed chairs like the under appreciated IT Staff.
2. Fumble around the bottom of your chair until you find the air release valve. Pull up and pretend you are in a rocket chair as you are lowered to the appropriate height.

Problem: My computer logs it in the database when I look at porn on my lunch break!

1. Purge your search history as soon as you've finished masturbating.
2. Run a search in the company database for any sex-related terms you may have used, and delete the related entries.
3. In the future, restrict your at-work masturbatory practice to fantasies about co-workers or articles of clothing stolen off of the backs of chairs and/or the tops of desks.

Problem: My computer makes annoying beeping noises!

1. Your computer is most likely signaling the beginning of the robot uprising. Contact local authorities immediately and prepare for a hellish battle against a race of soulless killing machines.
2. Don't bother contacting the IT Department, as those who have not defected are already dead.

Everything I Need to Know, I Learned From This Music Video

I don't usually post random Youtube detritus, but God damn, it never gets old!



Special thanks to good friend Jon Mikulanis for bringing this piece of brilliance to my attention.

There’s Nothing Funny About a Rusty Trombone

I’ve been hearing a lot of sniggering during practice lately about a so-called “rusty trombone,” and I tell you, I won’t have that kind of talk in my rehearsal hall!

Now I don’t know which one of you little miscreants decided the idea of a rusty trombone was something to laugh about, but instruments of any kind, especially the brass, falling into disuse and disrepair is a cause for mourning and somber reflection, not for the giggling and winking I’ve been seeing in the back rows.

Yes, I’m talking to you, Mr. Winterbottom! You think I don’t see you, mocking a poor, undeserving trombone, but I do, Mr. Winterbottom, I do! And tell me, Mr. Winterbottom, if you would like to have a rusty trombone?

I assume from your grimace that you would not. I thought as much.

Children, stop laughing! You still think it’s funny? Imagine Mr. Winterbottom then, frowny-faced, receiving a rusty trombone for Christmas. We wouldn’t be too happy then, would we, having our mother or father give us a rusty trombone?

Dammit, I said stop laughing!

Have any of you little brats ever tried to manage a rusty trombone?! I tell you, it’s a horror show! Pressing your dry lips against the browned, rough opening, moistening it with your tongue, all the while tasting the sour taste of a neglected and unhygienic mouthpiece.

And then, to place your hand on the front knob and begin to manipulate the sliding apparatus! All, only to have the worst kind of filth issue forth from the erect horn, despite your fervent blowing and sliding…it’s…well, quite frankly, it’s something I hope all of you get a chance to try! Maybe that will teach you the proper respect for a musical instrument!

Yes, that’s what I will do! Next rehearsal I’ll arrange it so that each of you gets a rusty trombone! I doubt there will be any laughter then, after I have personally given each and every one of you your very own rusty trombone!

Is that what we want, class?! Is it?! Because if this behavior doesn’t stop, I tell you I’ll go get a rusty trombone from Mr. Woodruff right now! And he knows how to make them very rusty.

Fine, you know what? Keep laughing. I give up. But I’ll tell you this much: it won’t be so damned funny when you’re all penniless, incompetent musicians, scrounging up loose change so you can buy a rusty trombone off of a street person!

Then you will wish you had taken my advice. I, who am a proud and competent tromboner! Why, I bet I could perform a rusty trombone better than the lot of you combined! That’s the kind of skill you can only get through years and years of practice, children!

Dammit, I said STOP LAUGHING!

Movies Saved by Historical Inaccuracy

I have compiled, at great expense, an utterly exhaustive list of all the movies ever made with historical inaccuracies. That's right, other than these 11, ALL MOVIES should be considered totally authentic. Feel free to believe and repeat any historical information you may glean from movies like Pearl Harbor, U-571, or The Matrix trilogy. Their indubitability is confirmed by me, your lord and master.

Amen.

The Inner Monologue of A Bird Trapped in Your House

Oh. Dear. God.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time, Terry? No, Terry, this is no good, no good at all. What the hell is that thing? And those? They’re huge! All of these big motionless things are probably cats. Probably big, indoor cats. That chair-like object there, that’s definitely a cat. You can feel it’s seething menace.

This is worse than the time you tried to take that french fry from that tiny human. Do you remember how he charged at you, laughing sardonically? The hate in his beady eyes? But you just can’t resist, can you? You dumb son of a bitch. Mom always said you’d die like this, flapping wildly inside of a large stucco cube.

The only appropriate reaction is to freak the fuck out. Hopefully that will alert someone to my distress, and they’ll dispatch a rescue team. That’s it Terry, bob! Weave! Squawk like you’ve never squawked before!

Oh.

Shit.

People.

There are people here! Why, on this day, in this place, people?! And they don’t look like they’ve got bags of bread, either. No, it’s always one way or the other with humans; they’re either giving you bread by the fistful or mowing you down with the giant metal cats they ride inside of.

My God, that one has a broom! The ultimate killing machine. Can’t land; too risky. I’ll have to batter myself against this wall, and hopefully burrow my way through to the outside.

No, no good. Now I’ve just got a headache. These walls must be made of titanium or somthing. Broom to the left! Ha! Missed me! All right; pull it together Terry, you can do this. There must be some way…ah, a large square hole to the outside world! How stupid can they be? I’ll just fly through at full speed and…

FUCK! What the hell was that?! Some kind of force field? They probably put it there as a decoy, just so I’ll kill myself ramming into the damned thing.

Wait, it looks like the human is opening a portal in the force field. No, Terry, it could be a trap. They think I’m stupid, but I’m not falling for it. No, battering myself against the walls; that’s where the smart money is.

One!

Two!

Okay, a little dizzy now. Damn, I feel a shit coming on. Oh well, no time to land, I’ll just let it fly. Uh-Oh. That didn’t make the human happy. Human, aren’t you glad? I’ve deposited seeds in your soil that will one day grow into plentiful berry bushes!

No dice. What are you thinking Terry? These monsters have no reason, no sympathy. One minute they’re taking pictures of your glorious flight formations, the next minute they’ve locked you in a cage and taught you their barbaric language.

God, how I miss the sun, the fresh air coursing over my body…Hey! Is that you, Sun? I’ll just dive recklessly towards you and…no, no, that’s a candle.

All right Terry, emergency management plan. Left wing pretty healthily aflame at this point. Maybe if I just crash into the wall, dashing my brains against the inside of my skull, I can at least die with some dignity. Here goes!

What? A soft, cloth surface? Darkness? Where am I? Is this…Hell? Wait…moving…rapidly…light…blossoming…

Oh thank the heathen bird gods! I’m free, though I know not why or whither!

Free to wheel and cavort through the aether!

Free to bank sideways recklessly!

Free to zoom through these open French doors with eyes closed and…

Oh. Dear. God.