Archive for funny

it’s the little things

Posted in free floating hostility with tags , , , , , on July 1, 2010 by apexofanger

….that tempt you to fill a super soaker with gasoline and purge the world of dumb with holy fire….

  • Anyone who insists on introducing themselves as the 2nd or 3rd or whatever other denomination. I don’t give a good gutfuck if you happen to be Percy Clanston Whithermeyer III, and neither does anyone else! You know what they say about all sequels to movies being shittier than the originals?! Well that shit is true for people too fucker. You are the shitty replica of someone who came before you…..and they were probably alot cooler. I’m not saying it’s not endearing to be named after your grandfather who stormed Normandy or the like, but you know what? Save that story for when i’ve actually expressed an interest in your sordid family lineage…..I promise you’ll know when I actually care.
    • SUB POINT – if anyone ever introduces themselves as Blah Blah Esquire…..you’re officially allowed to expose their frontal lobe with an icepick
    • SUB POINT 2 – you don’t need to sign every fucking document with your little roman numeral reminder that your parents are uncreative dicksmokers, really you can just sign the dominoes receipt like a normal person..because I assure you that when the archaeologists of the eons unearth it, that the irony of you ordering a pizza with pepperoni on it while your grand daddy whom you are named after died behind a butcher’s shop with a salami log jammed up his butt in the 1950’s for being a communist will be lost on them.
  • Anyone over the age of 17 who can’t debate like an adult. I like to debate shit; whether it’s politics, religion, literature, movies, music you name it and I can forge a pointless hardline view from which to aggressively argue until blue in the face. It’s like a free adrenaline rush that doesn’t have to end with my face marred by a liberal application of concrete. But god damned if some of these chucklefucks haven’t learned to at least argue better than a primate. Typically when I start spouting off like a dick I at least support my theorem or opinion with SOME KIND OF DATA. You know like…..numbers or facts or maybe even a published article if i’m feeling really saucy. Usually about that time the orangutan on the other side of the debate will begin to fidget and talk increasingly louder as a defense mechanism. It’s funny to watch a grown adult devolve into a toddler right in front of your eyes as they resort to something that used to work on the playground. If you watch really close you can watch their arms twitch as their inner ape struggles to win the debate by shitting in their open palm and tossing it at your face. Really I’d have more respect for you if you just did that instead of just trying to yell over me.
    • SUB POINT – Arguing on the internet does not adhere to these rules. Search the archives of alt.troll for a full tutorial on this…..bring popcorn
    • SUB POINT 2 – Some of you self proclaimed geniuses may be suffering some cognitive dissonance as you asperger on the common expression that most facts are made up on the spot. Sure i’ll give you that, in fact i’ve prolly done it, but if you don’t have the mental agility to make up some better bullshit than me, then you still deserve to lose the argument.
  • Also while on the subject of aspies; anyone who has ridiculous fears or compulsions beyond the age of 4 should be encased in a room with that shit until either they swallow their own tongue or get the fuck over it. If you have a driver’s license, a debit card and are physiologically capable of procreating you aren’t allowed to be afraid of the sound of yellow OK?  It just doesn’t work like that. You want adult privileges yes? Well then I can’t have you obsessively counting the cirrus clouds on the drive to work and then frothing at the mouth when it’s not a prime number.

1…..11…..STRATUS?!?!?



Krull is the best movie ever it’s just you that sucks

Posted in free floating hostility with tags , , , , , on October 29, 2009 by apexofanger

That’s right.

Krull.

Alot of peeps look down on this action/adventure/sci-fi/fantasy mashup from the 80’s. It was dwarfed in popularity by a much more well known sci-fi epic also released in 83 called Return of the Jedi. Now don’t get me wrong I love the original trilogy as much as the next uber-nerd, but Krull is at least as good as Return, if not in some ways better….I’m sure there’s a throng of Lucasites now choking on the foam that was already building around their Twi’lek pseudopod licking lips so lets break it down…

The biggest issue people seem to have with Krull is the scene where our intrepid band of heroes uses a pack of wild horses capable of flight to make the several hundred league journey to the dark lord’s castle before it teleports away to an unknown location. For some reason suspension of disbelief is just alien at this point in a world were we have already established that sorcery is real. I don’t get it. So what there’s a scene with flying horses, there’s also a shapechanging magician, cyclops, demons, giant spiders, telekinetically controlled weapons, teleportation, doppleganger assassins and clairvoyant senior citizens. WHY THE FUCK ARE FLYING HORSES A PROBLEM IN THIS SETTING?!?!?!

Does the internal dialog of this realization go something like:

Fuck yeah cyclops’ are awesome………Holy shit that is one giant demon spider….wait….wait….WHAT THE FUCK FLYING HORSES?!?!?!?! WHAT MANNER OF WITCHERY WOULD THIS FILM HAVE ME BELIEVE IS POSSIBLE ON A FICTIONAL PLANET IN A HIGH FANTASY SETTING?!!?!?!?

If that does mirror what you feel when watching Krull then you have no recourse for being able to sit through an entire screening of Return of the Jedi either. If you can’t stomach flying horses then there’s no way you can even handle the Battle of Endor scene without going into an epileptic fit.

During the Battle of Endor a technologically superior force, capable of interstellar travel and the manufacture of a moon sized space station, is defeated by a group of 4 foot tall  100 lb teddy bears with the technological advancements cavemen.

TOTALLY IMPLAUSIBLE

TOTALLY PLAUSIBLE

LOLWUT?!?!?!

This scene is roughly equivalent in scale to me demolishing an abrams tank with a bocce ball set and some rope.

ME: Krull is a decent early 80’s sci-fi flick with a better than average cast and production values for the time

LUCASITE ASSBRAIN: LOL KRULL IS TEH GAY UR A FAGET WHO LOVES FLYING HORSES….HORSE CAN NOT FLY SILLY LADYBOY

ME: Yeah, so that scene where the ewoks blow up a pair of Imperial walkers with twigs, vines, and rocks….that could really happen right? Like if I showed up in the amazon and decided to decimate an uncontacted tribe with a tank….they’d put up an awesome fight with their blowguns and frog poison darts right?

LUCASITE ASSBRAIN: erk….uhm…FUCK YOU KRULL IS GHAY LULZ

Krull also had a decent cast and acting for the genre and time.

Freddie Jones – http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0428086/

Liam Neeson – http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000553/

Bernard Bresslaw – http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0107805/

Return had a a great cast too, but it also had the co-star from Nighthawks

FUCK YEAH!

What came first the manager or the dick?

Posted in work with tags , , , , , on October 22, 2009 by apexofanger

Somewhere in the unwritten laws of the cosmos there is a logic statement dictating that all managers must be dickheads. I’m not really sure who enacted this law, whether there was a vote, or if meeting notes were emailed out with action items, but whomever is responsible is definitely an asshole.

In the majority of any of the positions I’ve ever had, anyone with any sort of decision making power, managerial control, or ownership of the company has been a complete dickbrain.  I’m not the only person with this curse either. In fact I can’t think of one friend, co-worker, or family member who hasn’t mysteriously been plagued by the same seemingly unending stream of jerk-offs all apparently cut from the same cloth.

So even though Darwin seems to have missed this KEY chain of evolution, lets examine it. Most of these guys had to work their way up just like us. They started as stockers in the supermarket, or working the mail room, or fixing printers, or laying sod, or putting up drywall for someone else’s company. These guys jockeyed desks and keyboards and task lists imprisoned in grey cubicles just like me. So did they start off as raging cockasses? I’d really like to think not. I’d love to imagine a world were people like that DIDN’T get rewarded for treating everyone they encounter on a day to day basis like utter dogshit.

The other more sinister option, that keeps me up at night grinding my teeth dreaming about schools of piranha ripping and tearing my oppressors apart, is that the actual TITLE of manager/owner/headfuckhoncho creates this brand of jerk. I envision the horrible (yet awesome) transformation scene from An American Werewolf in London were our protagonist becomes the wolf for the first time. In my minds eye I see this happening to normal everyday guys like me on the day they get promoted to VP of Sucking Off the Chairman. The hint of power corrupts their souls and they become some kind of mutant were-dick. Destined to exact revenge on all their helpless underlings for the years of oppression they had suffered at the hands of dickheads above them. Employing cleverly passive aggressive techniques like

” Thanks for putting in those 30 overtime hours last week, but you know you were 14 min late today. I really need you to be more of a team player ”

You know, the kind of psychological date rape tactics that should be reserved for re-runs of The Prisoner.

Cubicle Etiquette

Posted in work with tags , , , , , on May 6, 2009 by apexofanger

So I used to work in this cube farm office, lifted directly out of the movie Office Space. The job was ok in that mindless automaton kind of way. I imagine it was very similar to the many thousands of office jobs that were only semi-technical inside a company that had been around for decades; the majority of the staff was near retirement, change was feared, the concept of double-clicking to open a file or folder was still alien to most, and everyone…..EVERYONE was a complete whacko just under the surface. Not like zany funny whacko who talks to office furniture either. These quacks were the kind of terrifying normally reserved for being cellmates of Gacy and Dahmer. Like the kind of mouthbreathing troglodyte who comes to work with his pants pockets filled with raw hotdogs….which he never eats….and tells people they are for his dogs….which he doesn’t own. 

So after your mind is done  recoiling in horror at that imagery let’s talk about cubicle etiquette. Particularly the kind dealing with food. For the majority of my time at this job the cubicle neighboor directly to my left was woman in her late 50’s.  She was run of the mill office hen; couldn’t be nicer to your face, but also couldn’t wait to get to the cafeteria to cluck about everyone and everything. This was pretty standard in the office, gossip was the economy system that kept things moving. But the real crazies come out at night…..see we worked the late shift, so by the time everyone else left, a few of us stayed on for a few more hours. This is when Food Porn happened. Food Porn is a term I coined in trying to describe what occured only a few feet from me every night. See my neighboor was on every diet in the book. Being a bigger gal she knew that as soon as she was out of the room all the other hens were clucking away about her gecko tatoo that now resembled godzilla. So during the day she flaunted all the diets, and workouts, and pills she was on to the other hens, attempting to prove she was doing things right. But once they left, the game was up….and Food Porn was in full swing.

She would eat from the time they left, till the time we left. Everyone ate at their desks….and that wasn’t the problem. It was the noise. The sounds she made after waiting all day to dig into her buffalo chicken salad and salmon cakes and HUGE bowl of walnuts and nachos and meatball subs and onion rings……the sounds will stay with me for the rest of my time on earth. Every bite was a perverse squeal of joy that could only be akin to what it would sound like if you genetically spliced an oink and an orgasm. I don’t begrudge her eating a shit ton of junk food, I do the same thing regularly. What boggles the mind is that she did so in such a way with myself, and a few others sitting there listening to it. SHE HAD to be aware of the sounds she was making. Maddening. That’s the only word I have for it. AND THE SMELLS!!!! For god’s sake, and the love of all that is holy….if you work in an office DO NOT MICROWAVE FISH and bring it back to your desk where other humans are sitting. If you do this it is perfectly acceptable for them to use a staple remover on your genitals. DO YOU KNOW what microwaved 2 day leftover salmon smells like??? It smells like toolshed sex. The smells and the sounds made such a perfect mixture that if i closed my eyes the only thing I could see was a roman orgy dipped in KFC gravy…….scarred for life.