Images courtesy of flickr.com

Travolta explained to me that his fat head is populated by a teeming swarm of thetans, which continuously push its massive volumetric limits. Their growth and replication feeds the ever-increasing diameter of his melon. However, every inch that my friend’s gourd expands, yields another inch of room for a new generation of these little buggers — who begin this cycle anew. In this manner, John’s expanding head and thetan-swarm growth reinforce one another. This is called a positive feedback loop (it is also called schizophrenia). A positive feedback loop often results in an unstable equilibrium and runaway results. In my friend’s case, he has runaway head volume.

I think our American democracy can also be characterized by a positive feedback loop. Our status quo is continually renewed by mutual reinforcement between a functionally retarded voting populace and an incompetent puppet leadership. Every four years, hordes (well, dozens) of drooling, diabetic swine trudge to the polls to pull the lever for some guy whose name they recognize, who looks vaguely nice. This guy then spends four years ensuring that America remains a nation of flat-faced, blubbering lardbots. In America’s case, we have runaway ignorance.

My other resolution was somewhat ambitious. I grow increasingly stifled by this insipid Groper of News, and I feel that I must branch out into the tubes. I have resolved to launch my own successful website.

I looked first to some of the more popular sites for inspiration. My first mindstorm was nothing short of brilliant. Imagine, a website devoted solely to the auction of delicious babies. I would call it:

However, while this site would undoubtedly be an unqualified success, I felt that the ability to charge succulent babies to my PayPal account would simply be too indulgent. Where is the thrill of the carriage-swipe? The crib-snatch? No, I will not be launching eBaby anytime soon. We will all just have to stick to our conventional baby procurement methods.

My next idea, however, was almost as brilliant:

Imagine being able to search the world for that one person whose worldview stands in polar opposition to your own. Then imagine, for a small fee, being able to send your nemesis clever little icons representing roadkill or burning feces. Don’t stamp it out, Tyra!

Hmm. This seemed a little mean-spirited. My heart was not really in this site either. So I thought to myself: “Chris, what is is that makes everyone on the internet happy?”

Of course: vaginas!

Hey, gang. I fooled you with that title. I don’t know which films were the best of 2007. But I like to wander into buildings, and some of those buildings happen to be theatres. So these are the films that I wandered into this year:

Photo via IMDB

Black Snake Moan: Don’t tell me this movie wouldn’t have been better if Sammy had just fucked the sass off that little cracker girl.

Hot Fuzz: This was the movie you were most likely to go see with your indie friend, who laughed too loud all the way through it to cover up the fact that it couldn’t sniff Shawn of the Dead’s butthole.

Photo via IMDB

No Country for Old Men: The bad guy in this film used an air-compressing cattle gun to brain his victims. This device is also useful for extracting pocketwatches from one’s anus. Tingly. Just saying.

Superbad: I love when the fat kid says curses and does things. Like when he boots that soccer ball. That fat fuck is a genius.

Gone Baby Gone: I actually walked out of this movie because Ben Affleck’s stupid face makes me want to punch six babies, and I refused to believe that he could do something productive with his life. Sorry, Ben, you will always be the Daredevil to me. Eat shit.

Images courtesy of IMDB.com

Sicko: Healthcare advice from a fatass, in the tradition of An Inconvenient Truth (global warming advice from a gasbag).

Original image courtesy of imdb.com

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even this mouse.
For I bit off its head, and shaved off its hair,
Stuck it in Timmy’s stocking, hung from the chimney with care.

The children asleep, waiting for Santa to come,
While visions of sugar…wait…what the fuck is a sugar plum?
Grandma in her ‘kerchief, Grandpa in his cap,
Had just settled down, for a long winter’s nap.

To say “just settled in” is a bit of a mistake,
Twelve years in those chairs, they won’t soon awake.
I think they’re fun, you can move them about,
I had just put Grandpa’s cold fist in his mouth.

Einstein, Hawking, and Mister Splashy Pants walk into a bar after a long day. They pick a nice table in the back, under the dim lights, and order a round. They nurse their drinks, and discuss the latest sporting events.

After a while, things take a serious turn. Einstein turns to Hawking and says, “Stephen, I am interested in your cosmology. Tell me your thoughts on space-time.”

Hawking indulges and says “Albert, I think that space-time is shaped like a line, extending infinitely in opposite directions, with no definite beginning or end.”

Image courtesy of flickr

As you may know, I served in the Vietnam War, in the Deer Hunter brigade. Many people say that Vietnam was the first televised war, and they are right. There were cameramen everywhere. You would think that amidst a guerrilla war, those guys would employ some stealth, but there they were, shining their lights and yelling things at me like “Action!” and “That monkey doesn’t go in your duffel bag!”

We actually didn’t hunt any deer, of course. We hunted the gooks. I could always recognize them, because they had slanty eyes like me, except when you looked into theirs, you didn’t see the date, time, and manner of your death.

Anyway, lets just say I have been on the front lines of the fight to weed out those Commie bastards and spread democracy. Which is a large reason why I remain so fascinated by these two girls and their cup. This video has held me and Travolta transfixed all morning. It is a prime example of the breakdown of socialism in China, as manifested by small tragedies, such as the allocation of only one cup to these two girls.

I grew up in New York City, and I used to run around Brooklyn quite a bit as a youth, but it has been a while since I actually took a walk around Williamsburg and said words to people and listened to their words in return. I endeavored to do so last weekend, and found out that my old stomping grounds have become a festering dung heap of irony.

I challenge you to examine the following syllogism and dispute its inevitable conclusion:

Premise 1:
Hipsters look disgusting. It appears to me that they dress in a manner intended to obscure those few remnants of sexuality that haven’t fallen casualty to their inactive lifestyle and lax hygiene.

Image courtesy of flickr

Premise 2:
Hipsters have these funny flat bumbums. Those hindquarters are useless. I know about their silly little bottoms because a few of these ninnies auditioned their extended backs for the role of my gentelmanly rump in my new film. Nice try douchebags, maybe another year’s worth of PBRs will help you fill out.

Image courtesy of flickr

Premise 3:
Hipsters have babydicks. Sorry gang, excuse my language. Let me rephrase: Hipsters have ironic genitalia.

Hey gang. Please enjoy my new video about my best friend’s stupid fat face. Stay tuned for the IMAX 3D version, in which you will feel like you are actually being engulfed by Travolta’s fleshy jowels. Fuck Beowulf.

Here is a list of people in the world who make me want to brain myself with a shovel:

10. People with “Support Our Troops” ribbons on their cars. I have a “Support Our Ribbon Industry” ribbon on my bumper.

9. Anyone who refers to an apartment or an event venue as “a great space.” This is me in “a great space.” There are no yuppies there.

8. Anyone who carries around a Nalgene water bottle. If you refer to said bottle as “my Nalgene,” you deserve a list unto yourself.

7. Black babies with afros. Oh wait, for a second I thought this was my list of “Top 10 Best People in the World.” I love those little cuddlemonsters. I mostly just like to watch them play in the sandbox until I have no tears left.

6. That asshole who sits at a bank of computers all day writing “1st!” at the top of every comments log. Knock it off, douche.