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Monday, August 31, 2009

30 Days of Disney

There are some joyless individuals on this planet who view the Walt Disney Company as an evil, souless entity akin to Hitler's Third Reich. Disney may be responsible for the Jonas Brothers, Cars, and Beverly Hills Chihuahua's domination of this year's Imagen Awards, but they've also given us WALL-E, Splash Mountain, and the triumphant comeback of Mr. Billy Ray Cyrus. I'm a fan of Walt Disney and his cadre of anthropomorphic mice, ducks, and vest-wearing dogs, and when the powers-that-be finally decide to thaw the man out, I hope Ole Walt visits the homes of every last Disney-hater and kicks them square in the nutsack.

I had the pleasure of spending a week in beautiful Walt Disney World two weeks ago. My wife and I rode the rides, saw the shows, and crammed food into our greedy, slobbering maws. It was the quintessential American vacation and we relished every greasy minute of it. One evening as I was stuffing a 27th forkful of German potato salad into my mouth at EPCOT Germany's All-You-Care-to-Eat German Buffet, I decided that upon my return to Raleigh, I would immerse myself in the wonderful world of Disney, re-watch the classic animated features from my youth, check out some of the obscure films I'd never bothered with before, and watch some of the new stuff currently being pumped into the cultural landscape. So, starting tomorrow, Giant Electric Penguin will be bringing you 30 Days of Disney. Each day in the month of September, GEP will present a classic from the Disney vault, discuss it at an inappropriate length, and slap an arbitrary grade on it. I hope you'll join us for this special month of magic and whimsy. And I promise: absolutely no talking chihuahuas.

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Friday, August 28, 2009

Breaking News: Republican'ts, Democrongs United by National Tragedy

Despite mumblin's and grumblin's from some quarters, the death of Senator Ted Kennedy has been met mostly with sorrow and reverence for the controversial figure. In fact, Kennedy's death has mustered the most bipartisan good will I can remember seeing since the "God bless the USA, the whole USA, and nothing but the USA" days immediately following 9/11.


This song written (and I guess produced, though probably not performed) by Republican US Senator Orrin Hatch.

No, Mr. Hatch, though one Senator's death is a great blow, "we shall not crash." In fact, now that Mr. Kennedy has passed away, "we're headed home at last." Hmm. It's almost as if Mr. Hatch thinks Mr. Kennedy's death is a sign of the second coming. Maybe it is.

Honor Him!

- Read the rest of this article.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Sunday Morning Music - One Bad Pig "Let's Be Frank"

Skot4God in the YouTube comments declares this 1989 Christ-punk anthem a "[t]imeless classic!" YouTube user pastorrob23 "used to roof houses to this stuff!!" Mikeraepowell claims porcine band member Paul Q-Pek "is now [his] church worship leader." Johnny Cash helped these guys cover his classic "Man in Black" for 1991's I Scream Sunday.

Regardless of these accolades, One Bad Pig suck just about as hard as any band has ever sucked ever. Screaming about a straw man named Frank who's going to hell because he believes in the big bang and evolution isn't punk. It's dumb. Also dumb: featuring a band member skateboarding on your album cover, rhyming "pass" and "gas," a punk band having a mascot that looks like a sign for a blues-themed BBQ joint, and those pig pants.

Oh, and that jacket with tassels, the guy pretending to peak around the corner of the album cover, nerdy glasses guy trying to be tough, and the erroneous implication that no keyboards = bad ass music.

Photos by tastypiesinc

- Read the rest of this article.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Feelin' the Magic: A Travelogue of Sorts: Days 3 & 4- Chip and Dale's Kinky 4-Way


-Jen and I decide to award hypothetical stars to children we observe exhibiting good behavior and remove stars from those who fall out of line. We face a long day of star removal.

-I like Nemo and all, but I think I enjoyed The Living Seas more when it had more real fish and less animated ones.

-I suddenly realize that the wife and I are the only adults in a Test Track car full of children after a little girl in the front seat asks me to check if her little brother is buckled. "That's my sister," he tells me. "Usually, she doesn't act like she likes me." He repeats, "I don't like this part" for the duration of the entire ride. Jen finally asks, "Is there any part you DO like?" Every child who shares our car is awarded ten stars each because they are so awesome.

-Jen finds most of the international soft drinks at Coca-Cola's Cool Zone absolutely disgusting. I enjoy about three of them. I especially enjoy Japan's "healthy" veggie soda. I feel sorry for Italian soda-lovers, however.
-While waiting for our "less intense training" mission to begin on Mission to Space, a dude in my training module informs me that someone died at the Indiana Jones Stunt Spectacular on Tuesday afternoon. I immediately start laughing imagining the death to be that of a spectator. "No, really," he continues. "One of the performers died during a practice run." I express regret, then wonder why I thought the death of an audience member seemed so humorous to me.

-It doesn't matter how many times you repeat instructions in English, Honey I Shrunk the Audience cast members, if 90% of the audience is a tour group from a Spanish-speaking country, they ain't gonna do what they're told.

-Lunch in Norway. I tell Jen that I bet the young 20-somethings who come to Florida to work in the different countries at EPCOT totally get it on with each other on a regular basis. I mean, some of those Norwegian chicks are pretty hot.
-Chicken-flavored candy or candy-flavored chicken? You decide. Dinner at Nine Dragons in EPCOT China is lackluster. I've had just as delicious Chinese food at home.

-Overheard while exiting the Monorail: "Stop that ridiculous singing. You don't gotta do that." -man to his nonsense-word singing son.

-Early evening spent reading graphic novels.

Day 4

-Karma shines its light on us, after a family of douchebags jumps in front of us to get on the bus to Animal Kingdom, as we arrive at the park before them on a much later bus.

-Finish Animal Kingdom in record time because of a) the wife's almost supernatural planning abilities and b) the fact that there isn't that much to do there.
-Following a nap, we spend the afternoon dropping cash at various Downtown Disney stores. I provide a running commentary on the events of the day in a fakey British accent which, surprisingly, seems to delight my wife.

-Skip Rapery & Gifts because I don't like what they've got to sell. Rape.
-Hop a bus to Wilderness Lodge to catch a bus to EPCOT for 6:35 dining reservations in EPCOT Germany. Watch a man and his girlfriend make out in front of girlfriend's daughter.

-Mad dash to EPCOT Germany. Jen leaves me in the dust, but I somehow make it in time to stuff myself with German delights.

-Overheard on the Monorail:

Old Woman: (referring to Old Man seated beside her) There he goes. All you got to do is get him in the car and he falls asleep.

Young Woman: (referring to baby girl on her knee) Same with this one. Isn't it funny how we're the same at the beginning of life and at the end of it?

-Back to the room; watch the Magic Kingdom fireworks show from our balcony. Read the rest of this article.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Feelin' the Magic: A Travelogue of Sorts: Day 2- Viva La (EPCOT) Mexico

-I don't know why, but I think I sleep better in a $350.00 a night hotel room, especially when I'm only paying $68.00 to do so.

-Finally fulfilled a childhood dream at 30: I got my picture taken with Alice. She told me that she liked my "spectacles" because they reminded her of the White Rabbit's. I told her I was a big fan...AND MEANT IT. Am I a dork? Oh, yes. Do I care what you think? Nope.

-Here's a quick way to make yourself nauseous at the Magic Kingdom: ride the Tea Cups then immediately ride the Astro Orbiter.
-Hey, where's the voice-activated oven promised to me by the Carousel of Progress, man? Also, does the C of P guy look exactly like Norm MacDonald or is it just me?

-There is nothing more invigorating than walking through Tomorrowland chewing on some beef jerky. Awesome.

-Jen describes Big Thunder Railroad as "a ride for whores" after noticing that we are literally surrounded by total whores.

-I suggest that "Tom Sawyer Island" should be renamed "Edward Cullen Island." The wife enjoys this new twist on yesterday's Twilight joke and I decide right then and there to keep this thing going all week. Later in the day, I see two girls in Twilight t-shirts and consider asking them if they've been to "Edward Cullen Island" yet, but Jen says that would be mean.
-I wonder how many people have been horribly injured while exploring the dimly lit caves on Tom Sawyer Island?

-Idiots on the Barrel Bridge almost sink the damn thing. With some quick thinking, I'm able to keep my Chucks dry.

-No mention of Jim on Tom Sawyer Island. Weird.

-I don't care what anyone says, I love the Hall of Presidents. Jen says I just like any attraction that involves air conditioning and sitting down. She's probably right.

-Back to the Grand Floridian for showers, naps, and Japanese TV. Based solely on their television programming, I'd say most Japanese people are completely batshit crazy. Why is that girl dressed like a robot penguin?
-Overheard outside the San Angel Inn restaurant in EPCOT Mexico: "I even told the lady I was from Alaska and this was my last night here and I still couldn't get a table."

-The wife and I are NOT from Alaska and we made reservations a month ago, so we are seated promptly and treated to perhaps the best food I've ever put in my mouth (and I've put A LOT of food in my mouth, friends).

-Spent almost $100.00 in EPCOT Japan, but we kinda already knew we would anyway. No one is dressed like a robot penguin.

-On the monorail ride home, the wife and I discuss possible "Edward Cullen Island" attractions.

Read the rest of this article.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Feelin' the Magic: A Travelogue of Sorts: Day 1-Shut The Eff Up And Walk

-My vacation starts with me trapping a mouse in my bathroom at 3:30 in the morning. I take it as a threat from you know who. Told the wife as soon as I caught up with Mickey I was going to punch him in the stomach.

-Somehow I got us lost in the Orlando airport.

-Got a hotel upgrade while checking in at Disney's All-Star Sports Resort, the cheapest rooms available on Disney property. Chosen at random to be transferred over to the Grand Floridian, Disney's finest resort. Jen has calculated that a five day stay at All-Star Sports is roughly the same price as one night at Grand Floridian. Disney truly is the happiest place on Earth and I am the happiest son of a bitch here.

-Lunch at the 50's Prime Time Cafe, a goofy eatery where you eat in a room that resembles a kitchen from the 1950's and the waitress kind of acts like a bitchy, hard to please mom. They also serve ridiculous desserts like this one, Dad's Brownie Sundae:
I can't finish it and almost break a tooth on the candy mouse ears. And, yes, that is caramel corn.

-Overheard at Disney's Hollywood Studios: "Shut the fuck up and walk" -mother to her teenage daughter.

-British vactioner and redneck get into it in line for Toy Story Midway Mania. I side with the Brit, but stay uninvolved.

-Sully is kind of a dick. He presented an open palm as if requesting for me to "give him some skin," but whisked his paw away at the last minute. I'm not really into being embarrassed by a smirking, blue furbag in front of a line of children. Eff you, Sully!
-The American Idol Experience is suprisingly entertaining for being based on a show I detest. Simon Cowell's American counterpart is my new favorite Disney character. I want to get my picture taken with him.

-For some reason I decide that it would be funny to repeatedly ask my wife the location of the Twilight ride. I then start pointing out various teenage girls who I think might be fans of Stephanie Meyer's series of books and quip, "She probably knows." Jen is initially amused, but becomes less so as the day progresses.

-Fight Club at Peco's Bill Taco Salad Emporium. A little girl goads her siblings with shoves, punches, and yelling while her parents just sit there. I think there might be something terribly wrong with this girl.
-High School Musical Sweet Red Apple Slices!!!

-For some reason I decide that ever time I hear someone with a British accent say something I will turn to my wife and quote Paul Rudd from Forgetting Sarah Marshall, saying, "She/he sounds like she's/he's from Lon-don" in a fakey British accent.

-In line for Splash Mountain, I accidentally see a little girl named Camilla lifting her dress over her head. I quickly look away, locking eyes with her older sister, who immediately begins yammering away to her mother in a language I think may be Russian. For a good minute and a half I think she's telling her mother about the bald, bearded pervert checking out her baby sister's naked body.

-Also, Camilla is the only child I've ever seen who could give herself Shaken Baby Syndrome.

-Guy behind us on Splash Mountain keeps giving away locations of drops to the people behind him thus ruining the ride for everyone.

-I must admit: I've never understood a single thing any of the pirates in the Pirates of Carribbean ride are saying. Also, the Jack Sparrow robot is eerily lifelike. Read the rest of this article.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Sunday Morning...PODCAST!!!

The Giant Electric Podcast is on the air!  Yes, friends, the long awaited first episode of Giant Electric Penguin's new podcast show is finally here for your listening pleasure.  Just click the link below to stream the podcast on your computer device or right-click, download and put it on your iPod for easy listening at work, home, or the gym or burn a CD of the podcast and trick your friends into thinking they're listening to the radio.  Or, if you don't like podcasts, don't listen to it.* There are so many ways to enjoy the Giant Electric Podcast! Tell your friends!  Contact the Podcast crew at And stay tuned to this blog for updates, contests, and brand-new episodes!

Introductions, important questions, and lots of poop

*Giant Electric Penguin urges you to ignore this suggestion and just listen to the damn podcast.  OK?  Please?
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Saturday, August 15, 2009

GEP presents...Our Favorite Dum-Dums

Idiots. They are the poppy seeds in the lemon muffin that is life.  What would we do without the dense, doltish, and blockheaded?  Who would make us feel better about ourselves in a world devoid of dimbulbs, numbskulls, and morons?  The stupid provide a valuable service to the world community, so GEP is taking a moment to honor some of our favorite imbeciles of all time. Can I get a 'duh?'
1. Homer Simpson:  When I hear the phrase "rampant idiocy" (and I hear it more than you can imagine), my mind goes directly to Homer J. Simpson, the quintessential moron.  Homer's level of stupidity often fluctuates to serve the story, but from the very beginning there has always been something downright charming about his complete lack of anything resembling a brain. Of course, we all know Homer's lot in life is self-imposed (Why did he let Moe cram that crayon into his brain?  Lisa was so happy.), so it's hard to feel sorry for him, but why feel sorry for a guy who finds pleasure in the simple things life has to offer, like chasing squirrels or dressing a pig in a Harry Potter costume.  Homer gives hope to dipshits all over the globe, after all, he barely graduated high school, yet he's visited outer space, written a movie for Mel Gibson, and won a Grammy.  Hold your heads up high, dimwits, and let Homer give you hope.
2. Jason Stackhouse: I'm not the only person whose noticed how much more profoundly stupid Jason Stackhouse has become in this season of True Blood.  That doesn't make me like him any less, I'm just wondering what happened.  I could blame religion, but that wouldn't be fair--he was already as dumb as a fence post long before the Fellowship of the Sun got ahold of him and filled his pea-sized brain with anti-vampire nonsense.  Thankfully, Jason hasn't let the fact that he is severely 'tarded keep him from boning every woman in Bon Temps.  Jason is living proof that nice guys, smart guys, and guys with good jobs do, in fact, finish last, while violent, physically fit lunkheads get a whole lotta Southern-fried poon.
3. Bebop and Rocksteady: How the fuck did Shredder ever think he was going to take over the world with these two idjits on the team?  When your go-to henchman are repeatedly outsmarted by a band of cheeky adolescent turtles, maybe it's time you got back to the drawing board and mutated up something a little more intelligent-like.  On paper, a mutant rhino and a mutant warthog look like winners, but Bebop and Rocksteady prove even the best laid plans can be stomped to shit when you get a couple of dolts involved.

4. Mr. Gumby: The above video speaks for itself.  This sketch was my very first exposure to Monty Python way back in middle school and it remains one of my favorite bits of all time.  
5. Jordan Catalano: Is it fair to call Jordan Catalano an idiot, after all, he did suffer from dyslexia?  Well, I think it's totally fair and so I will: Jordan Catalano is an idiot.  But, he's a hunky idiot, and that's all that mattered to Angela Chase, the main focus of ABC's My So-Called Life and the object of my adolescent desire.  At the time I hated Jordan, as I identified much more with Brian (Not BRAIN, Jordan, you dumbass!) Krakow.  "Why, Angela, why?" I would shout at the television screen, hot tears streaming down my cheeks.  "Why are you so hung up on Jordan?  Is it the dreamy hair?  Or the bedroom eyes?  Is it cuz he plays in a band?  I play in a band!  We played a show at a local coffee shop!  You know that song "Red" wasn't even about you, right?  It was about his stupid car!  Why won't you love me, Angela?  Why?"
6. Big Moose: Riverdale's resident simpleton, Big Moose, has always seemed a millisecond away from snapping and killing everyone in town, starting with Reggie.  Somehow Midge, his pixie-ish girlfriend, has kept the big galoot in check and Big Moose continues to lumber through the halls of Riverdale High, popping up now and again to say "Duh."  Silly Moose, that's not how you shake hands with Archie.  Sigh.  So dumb.

Read the rest of this article.

Saturday Morning News Bits: N/A

I'm hard at work on the Movie Penguin Podcast Program, so there will be no Saturday Morning News Bits today.  Instead, for fans of kittens, Jonah Hill, and Judd Apatow's latest film, Funny People, we present the following:

See you next Saturday!
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Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Wednesday Morning Music: Madvillain - "All Caps"

How have I gotten this deep into my life without discovering MF Doom until now? What the hell else have I been listening to all these years? Sheesh! Read the rest of this article.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Stop Already: Vampire Overdose

Listen, I like vampires as much as the next guy, but I can't be the only one growing tired of their sinister hold on pop culture. In the beginning there was Buffy and it was good. After Buffy, Angel, Spike, and the rest of the gang became little more than syndicated filler, the vampire genre took a much deserved breather. And then, in 2005, Twilight was unleashed upon an unsuspecting public, and vampires once again took their place as the monster du jour. An unstoppable army of 12-year-old girls and their undersexed mothers made the Twilight series a phenomenon. Many a girl prayed that Jesus would bring an amber-eyed vampiric hottie into her life, an undead boyfriend who would carry her around the forest like a rucksack, a sparkly bloodsucking corpse who played piano and was good at baseball. HBO offered subscribers a decidedly more adult story with the premiere of True Blood, based on a series of books about Sookie Stackhouse, a buxom young Southerner who falls in love with a brooding, hunky vampire. But vampire fever hasn't stopped there. Hell no! This fall on the CW, teens, parents, and snarky 30-something hipsters who get a boner from ridiculing pop culture phenomena while secretly enjoying it, will be treated to some shit called The Vampire Diaries, which I think is about a girl who falls in love with two vampire brothers.

Stop, stop, STOP! We get it! Vampires are cool and when something's cool Hollywood has no choice but to shove it down our collective throat every second of every day until we can no longer stomach one more dreamy-haired vampire stud or tortured, hair-twisting human who loves him and we have no choice but to puke all over the place until the gutters are running waist deep with snot-colored vomit. Is that what you want, Hollywood? Is it?!?

Hey, I like True Blood, and Twilight wasn't the worst movie I've ever seen in my life (It was, however, one of the worst books I've ever read), but I know how this ends, and I know because I was a ska fan. That's right. The connection between ska music and vampires isn't initially crystal clear, but think about it. Ska wasn't super popular when I discovered it in my early high school days, in fact, there were only a handful of us at Charlotte Christian School that even knew what it was. It was weird. I remember there was this upper classman named Pete who I had never spoken to in my life, but somehow I just knew he listened to ska. It was something about his hair. One afternoon he walked up to me out of the blue and said, "Hey, you're Matt, right? You're that guy who likes ska." "Yes," I said quietly, a bit more awed than I probably should've been. "Cool," he smiled. We never spoke again.

Where was I going with that? Oh, yes. Ska started becoming more and more popular as I closed in on graduation and by the time I was a freshman at Campbell University, the ska renaissance was in full swing--an appropriate term as the swing renaissance grew out of ska's inevitable demise. By second semester, I was so fucking sick of ska music I couldn't hear it without rolling my eyes or shooting my "ska shoes" a hateful glance (Those things were so uncomfortable!). Most of America followed suit, giving up their momentary love of ska music and the party-down-good-times it brought along and moved on to, I don't know, Nickelback?

Here's the point: vampires will go the way of Less Than Jake unless we put a cap on things. I'm not saying abandon vampires completely, I'm merely suggesting giving them a break. My idea: let's give some other monsters a chance to shine. Like how about...
Now I know what you're saying, "Matt, zombies are just as played out as vampires. What an idiotic suggestion." I'd agree. I never thought I'd say this, but I am growing pretty tired of the standard zombie story. But imagine this: take something like Twilight, remove Edward Cullen, and replace him with, I don't know, Steve the Zombie. Why can't a zombie boy experience the love of a high school girl? And the emotional conflict is just as stirring. Edward cannot allow himself to get too carried away with Bella, otherwise he will suck her dry. What about Steve? If he gets too close to his human sweetheart he will totally eat her brain. I've got goosebumps. Somebody write this shit down.
What's sexier than an incubus? They're so horny, they've been know to bang women to death. Again, imagine Twilight, but replace Edward with Steve the Incubus. Sure, it's far more satisfying to tween girls to read a story in which the hunky boyfriend character refrains from pressuring his girlfriend for coitus, but imagine how much sexier it would be if the book was about an incubus and his lady friend getting it on 'til the break of dawn. I imagine the movie version would be a lot more appealing too.
When are gnomes gonna get a piece. Imagine Sookie Stackhouse risking her life to aid gnomes in their quest to be taken seriously in human society.

Actually, that sounds awful. Let's keep gnomes out of this. I'm not sure they qualify as "monsters" anyway.
Overweight Goth Kid
No one would believe this one. Forget I brought it up.

It doesn't have to be one of my suggestions, hell, plug in your favorite mythical creature (unicorn, merman, those things from Spaced Invaders). We need to give vampires a rest. I like them too much to see them clogging up the racks at CD Alley. Please, Hollywood, give the vampire community a few years to regroup. Can't you just find it in your hearts to STOP ALREADY?

Read the rest of this article.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Sunday Morning Music: Group X - "Schfifty Five"

This one takes me back. Before I married my wife, bought a house, acquired a full-time job, and adopted the world's most bipolar feline, I had Albino Black Sheep and all the Animutation Flash videos I could stomach.  Group X was one of my favorites.  Enjoy this blast from my largely depressing distant past.

Read the rest of this article.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Saturday Morning News Bits: O'Neal fails, Atheism foiled again, digging up dad, goat murder, death from above, and wedded bliss on Aisle 5

Earlier this year, GEP asked the question "Would you masturbate in front of Ryan O'Neal for a new car?"  The answer to that question is obviously 'yes', but what if said inquiry involved something a tad bit more disturbing than the notion of rubbing one out with Ryan O'Neal? What if it involved cocaine, 11 year olds, and incest?  What if the question was something like, "If Ryan O'Neal was your dad and he fed you a big bag of coke when you were 11 years old and then years later made a pass at your half-sister during his girlfriend's funeral, would you just keep quiet about it and bide your time until he offed himself David Carradine-style thus making you the heir to his vast fortune or would you blab about it and further expose your dad's unending creepiness to the world at large?"

This week, O'Neal's estranged son, Griffin, recounted to Larry King a particularly disturbing story from his turbulent childhood:

"I was 11 years old when he gave me cocaine and said we are going to see a long movie called Barry Lyndon. He said 'It is a very long movie. Maybe this will help you'. I was 11. I could never, ever do that to my child."

I don't know which is worse: giving your kid a bunch of cocaine or making him sit through Barry Lyndon.  Ugh.

Then at Farrah Fawcett's funeral, O'Neal comes on to his own daughter.  Oh, yeah. O'Neal himself told this story to the press.  Creep:

"I had just put the casket in the hearse and was watching it drive away, when a beautiful blonde woman comes up and embraces me," he told the magazine's September issue in a lengthy interview, the creepiest portions of which are excerpted online.

"I said to her, 'You have a drink on you? You have a car?' She said, 'Daddy, it's me—Tatum!' I was just trying to be funny with a strange Swedish woman, and it's my daughter. It's so sick."

Nothing funnier than hitting on a Swedish stranger at your girlfriend's funeral.  
In a lot of ways, atheists are just as irritating as the highly religious.  Christians think they have some Divine Right to the hearts, minds, and governmental institutions of the United States, while atheists often go out of their way to prove how much smarter they are than everyone else.  I'm no fan of religion, in fact, I'm pretty vocal in my anti-religiousness.  I'm not, however, an atheist.  Nor am I an agnostic.  I'm just not a fan of organized religion, willful ignorance, or blind stupidity.

I'm also not fond of bus ad inequality.  Allow me to explain.  In Des Moines, Iowa this week, ads placed on city buses by the Iowa Atheist and Free Thinkers Group promoting the idea that it's OK not to believe in the standard God-Jesus-Bible paradigm, were removed after it was observed by bus drivers that "people weren't getting on buses or getting off the buses because of [them]." How dumb are you that you won't get on a bus plastered with an ad for atheism?  "That bus is bound for hell!"  Wrong, numbnuts, it still just goes downtown.

So, ads with the innocuous message "Don't believe in God?  You're not alone" were torn off of buses in the town of Des Moines, huh?  First, how is that fair?  I don't enjoy being around women who saturate themselves in offensive-smelling perfumes, but that wouldn't stop me from getting on a bus featuring a perfume ad.  It's that dirty guy in the backseat with his penis hanging out of his pants keeping me off of public transportation.  That guy's behavior is totally unacceptable. 

Secondly, Christian propaganda is everywhere.  The atheists can't have a few bus ads?  I can't walk by the courthouse downtown without some grinning old timer handing me a Chick tract, but I wouldn't dream of contacting the police department and asking him to be forcibly removed from the courthouse steps.  He's out there doing his thing, just like the guy who rode by on his bike yesterday and called out "Hey, Jesus loves you and He has risen" (I said "thank you") and the elderly couple who handed my ex-girlfriend a brochure explaining the process of salvation (How did they know she was a whore?).  Everybody should have a say, so what's the harm in a few bus ads?  Atheists and Christians are both wrong anyway.  Everyone knows when you die you become the god of your own planet, unless you're a woman.  They get to be pregnant for all eternity.  Praise the Lord.
Consider, for a moment, this headline from

Vermont Man Charged With Digging Up Dad: Police Say Man Brought Remains Home

When I read this I was horrified.  "OMG," I thought (because I always think in internet slang), "I love my dad too, but I wouldn't dig up his rotting corpse and take it home with me.  I think the memories of all the good times we shared when he was alive would sustain me through the tough times.  Having his physical body around, all maggot-infested and gross, wouldn't be a good thing, in fact, it would be the complete fucking opposite.  Sick!"

Like I said, I was horrified, but also intrigued.  A man dug up his dead father and took the body home with him to live for always and ever?  Gross...and awesome!

Then, I read the article:

A Vershire man has been accused of digging up his father's remains and bringing them home with him because he missed his late father.

Dominik A. Bailey Jr., 43, has been charged with felony removal of human remains after allegedly digging up the cremated man's remains from a Vershire graveyard.

Thetford police said they received a call from Bailey's mother on Friday telling authorities that she believed her son had gone and dug up her husband's cremated remains, taking the remains and the headstone home with him. The mother said she was going to check the grave site and later told police all she saw at the site was a hole in the ground.

Wait.  So, Bailey dug up ashes?  What the fuck's the problem?  I mean, sure, headstones are probably pretty expensive, so he should have to compensate his mother for that, but he can't have his father's ashes?  That's ridiculous.  And who buries cremated remains?  Aren't you supposed to sprinkle those around the deceased's favorite spot, like, the beach or something? I've instructed the wife to spread my ashes throughout Walt Disney World, on rides and around food stands yet to be determined.  Bailey missed his old man and wanted his ashes around because it comforted him, and now he could be facing up to 15 years in prison and a hefty fine. 
Bo the goat is dead.  I know, I know...that isn't what you want to read about on Saturday morning, but it's important news and needs to be reported.  If you need a couple of minutes to compose yourself, we understand.  Take a step back from the computer, gather your children to your bosom if you must, tell them you love them...whatever you've got to do.  We'll wait.

Bo was mowed down in a hail of gunfire by Mount Pleasant, Tennessee super prick Kenneth Long and his neighbor, sweet Robin Swindle, witnessed the whole bloody thing:

"To see somebody shoot him within a couple of feet from you and then say he's going to shoot you if you try to get him, I didn't ever know he was dead at first because he was still twitching," said Swindle. "He had brought his truck up, and he just picked him up and slung him in the back of his truck."

That's the last she saw of Bo.

Bo is survived by his partner, Maggie, a dwarf goat, and will be sorely missed by the rosy-cheeked children of Mount Pleasant who enjoyed learning about animals from him in some way the article isn't exactly clear about.  

At least Bo won't destroy your pumpkin crop anymore, Kenny, you monster!
I spend most of my weekends in the front yard of my house downing beers and using my neighbor's goat for target practice.  Hey, I work hard all week and it's how I unwind, so get off my balls.  When I'm out there, drunk and trigger-happy, however, I don't expect jagged chunks of metal to fall from the sky and strike me about the head and neck.  I expect sky things to stay in the sky in an unfalling manner.

A Dearborn, Michigan man wasn't so lucky this week.  He was just hanging out on his porch one morning, minding his own damn business, when...WHAMMMO...airplane debris falls from the sky and obliterates his skull.  Well, not exactly:

It happened Monday morning while he was out on his porch. At first, Beydoun thought it may have been a piece off his chimney liner that fell off. Just as he was about to throw it away, he started reading what was on it. He says he knew it must have come off a plane flying above.

Beydoun believes it weighs about a quarter-ounce. He wasn't cut by its sharp edges, but he says it did leave him with a bump on his head.

OK.  It left a bump, but still, what kind of a world do we live where airplane parts can come lose and fall on us?  It's enough to make me a hermit.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Matt, you're being silly.  People aren't getting crushed by airplane parts willy-nilly.  It is a rarity at best.  You don't have anything to worry about."  Oh, yeah?  Well, it ain't just airplanes, sister.  Mother Nature's out to fuck up our shit too:

A young woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and a freak accident took her life.

The victim has been identified as Katie Ladany. She was originally from Montclair, N.J., but lived in Philadelphia according to police.

Ladany, a recent graduate of Bucknell University and a teacher at the Dobbins Career and Technical Education High School, was killed Wednesday night off Forbidden Drive in Fairmount Park when a large limb snapped off a tree in Wissahickon Park and crashed down on her while she was jogging.

OK, so maybe jagged pieces of heavy metal tumbling from the heavens and smacking Michiganders on the head is a rare occurrence, but trees are everywhere.  Look outside your window right now.  What do you see?  Trees!  Trees just waiting to crush your brain and snuff you out.  That's it.  I'm never leaving this basement again.  It's been nice knowing you.
And finally, someone went and made my ultimate dream a reality.  No, not the one about the pizza covered with tacos.  This week a Sacramento couple got married in a Walmart.  Oh, boy! Isn't getting married at Wal-mart kind of like saying, "I give up at life.  Go ahead, everyone in the world, ridicule me.  I deserve nothing more than your eternal scorn."

I kid.  GEP would like to congratulate the happy couple and remind you that they are registered at K-mart. 


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Thursday, August 6, 2009

John Hughes (1950-2009)

John Hughes, more than any other director, helped define my life when I was a young man.  Not only did he direct The Breakfast Club and Weird Science, two films I watched repeatedly, but he wrote some of my favorite movies of all time.  Just look at this roster of classics penned by Hughes: Vacation, Pretty in Pink, Some Kind of Wonderful, Christmas Vacation, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Planes, Trains & Automobiles, Home Alone, Career Opportunities, and many others.

Thank you, Mr. Hughes.  Your films had a major impact on not only my life, but the lives of an entire generation.  You will be missed.

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Tuesday, August 4, 2009

It Is NOT All Right!

(Picture courtesy of People)

There's been a lot of talk in the press this week about the absence of Dustin Diamond and Dennis Haskins from the recent Saved by the Bell photo shoot.  Most people believe it an unforgivable slight by People magazine, but I don't think it's really that dig of a deal.  I mean, Dustin Diamond is a prick (I know we're Twitter friends, Double D, but you can't deny you've been acting downright prickish as of late); and have you seen Dennis Haskins lately?  Ugh.  So, Screech Powers and Mr. Belding didn't make the cut.  Big f'ing deal. The rest of the cast, however, has remained attractive and (semi) successful.  They're really the only ones I'd want to see in a magazine cover pic anyway.

There is someone else missing though, someone extremely important.  Well, that's debatable, I guess, but you can't deny the fact that she took the place of TWO Bayside regulars.  That's right, I'm talking about Tori Scott:
Why isn't she in the above snapshot?  There's a place right between Zack and Kelly.  Did anybody even pick up the phone and call Leanna Creel?  Some of the blame belongs to Jimmy Fallon, the evil mastermind behind the whole Bayside reunion thing, but the remaining blame deserves to be split up among the remaining cast members.  Who made it possibly for you to graduate early and seek out new acting opportunities, Tiffani Thiessen and Elizabeth Berkley? Tori. Who helped you deliver Mrs. Belding's baby when you got stuck in an elevator during that earthquake, Zack?  That's right: Tori.  She was good enough for Slater and Zack to fight over, but apparently not good enough to be invited back for the 20 year reunion.  For shame.

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Monday, August 3, 2009

The Secret to Lasting Love by Ashton and Demi

Last Sunday's PARADE magazine included an interview with Ashton Kutcher ("America's Douchebag") in which he explained how he and Demi Moore ("America's Demi Moore") keep their marriage so picture perfect:

"My wife and I have an agreement in our marriage, and part of that contract is that we are going to shine our lights on each other."

Shine your lights on each other?  What the shit does that mean?  We here at GEP having been racking our brains for the past 24 hours trying to make sense of Kutcher's nonsensical mutterings.  Here are our best guesses so far:

1.) By "lights," Ashton may mean "headlights" which is a delightful euphemism for "titties" which Demi Moore has in ample amounts.  So, perhaps, he means they've agreed to expose themselves to each other on a semi-regular basis.  If this is the case, Ashton's "lights" are probably his "balls."

2.) Demi and Ashton have purchased theatre-style spotlights for their home and take turns practicing Oscar speeches in front of each other on Monday nights.

3.) Kutcher is a gigantic douchebag and not even he knows what the fuck he's talking about.

4.) The Kutchers are fond of flashlight tag.

5.) Kutcher uses a dental lamp when giving Moore her bi-weekly Botox injections.

6.) No matter what hardships their children are facing, Demi and Ashton will always make themselves the center of attention.

7.) Something about cougars.

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Sunday, August 2, 2009

Sunday Night Trailers: Something For Everyone Mostly

Sorry we've been missing in action lately.  If you haven't heard, we are currently hard at work on our sidesplittingly hilarious new podcast show, The Giant Electric Podcast.  The first episode should be available for your listening pleasure this very week.  For now, please enjoy these brand-spanking new movie trailers that you've probably already seen on countless other sites.  Yea!

1. Fantastic Mr. Fox

I think Wes Anderson's latest has an adorable Rudolph's Shiny New Year quality that's been missing from America's moviehouses as of late.  And George Clooney as a fox?  Duh!

2. The Invention of Lying
It's got a horrendous title, but Ricky Gervais' follow-up to the enjoyable trifle that was Ghost Town looks all kinds of funny.  Tina Fey, Jonah Hill, and Ricky Gervais in the same movie?  Have I died and gone to Heaven?

3. Grace

Warning: this trailer is NOT for everyone, but I think horror fans are gonna get into it in a big way. Grace looks sick, twisted, and perverse and I cannot wait to see it.  I've been jonesin' for a quality horror flick for a long, long time (sorry, Amusement, but you failed!) and Grace might just be that flick.  (I think this is the red band trailer, so it's probably NSFW.)

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Saturday, August 1, 2009

Saturday Morning News Bits: fallen idols, racist cops, sorority stupidity, iguana fingers, and the exodus

American Idol fans were saddened to learn of two time auditioner/complete psychopath Alexis Cohen's death as the result of a hit-and-run earlier this week, but that wasn't nearly as shocking as former contestant Ju'Not Joyner's (Remember him?  Me neither.) earth-shattering revelation during an online chat that the popular singing contest is rigged.

"'It's a fixed thing if I ever saw one," he boldly declared--much to the shock of many naive chatters, who responded with capslocked interjections and frowny-faced emoticons."

WTF?  RIGGED?!?  THAT IS TOTES UNKEWL!  :( :( :(.  Revealing that American Idol may in many ways not be a totally honest endeavor, the results of which are not necessarily 100% determined by the home audience, is like telling your best friend that pizza is delicious.  C'mon, Ju'not!  What do you thing we are, a bunch of idiots?  Everybody knows American Idol isn't entirely on the up and up.  Look how far Adam Lambert got, for God's sake!  And that's not an "I hate Adam Lambert because he is totally lame"'s the truth.  This is a program in which the judges consistently remind viewers that they are looking for an artist who can sell records, clog America's Top 40 stations with more boring pop/hip-hop hybrids, and sell out Midwestern arenas.  Was Adam Lambert gonna do that?  No f'ing way!

Ju'Not, whose album drops just in time for Christmas, had some questions about the contracts contestants were required to sign, after all, he is a true artist who writes his on songs and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah:

'"They didn't like the fact that I wouldn't sign 'just anything' and that other contestants were coming asking me questions. So I think they ousted me the first chance they could get...Even if I didn't get in on did I not get picked for the Wild Card show when I received comments from the 'judges' that were better than most of the contestants who were picked for the Wild Card show?"

Ju'Not also theorized that he was not selected for the top 13 because he refused to let the show's producers exploit his sympathetic "back story" of being from "the hood." Said Ju'Not: "They wanted me to put that out to the world and expose my personal business for ratings. I wouldn't do it.'"

Had you even seen American Idol before auditioning, Ju'Not?  If you've got a back story worth exploited, you're as good as in the Top 12.  Contestants with dead wives, drug addicted fathers, and non-functioning eyeballs make it to the big stage; losers who refuse to use their crappy upbringing to garner favor from the producers get shown the door.  If you really want that fame, that mainstream success that has been just beyond your grasp for years and years, you get out there and your sell your soul.  If you just want to be a bitter ex-reality show contestant chatting with cretinous mouthbreathers online all your life, follow Ju'Not's lead.  Can't wait for the new single, jackass.
Say hello to Boston police officer Justin Barrett.  He was so moved by an article in his local paper describing the sequence of events leading to Harvard professor Henry Gates Jr.'s arrest, that he fired off a mass e-mail in which he referred to Gates as a "banana-eating jungle monkey." Naturally, the e-mail was picked up by the the national press, exposing Barrett's mental retardation to the whole country.

Now Barrett's on an apology tour, saying the following on a recent episode of Larry King Live:

'"I would like to take this opportunity to offer fellow police officers, soldiers and citizens my sincerest apology over the controversial e-mail I authored," Barrett said on CNN. "I am not a racist. I did not intend any racial bigotry, harm or prejudice in my words. I sincerely apologize that these words have been received as such. I truly apologize to all.'"

Barrett is so not racist, he used the term "jungle monkey" four times in his e-mail.  He is currently waiting to hear if he's been fired from the police force or not.  My advice: crack open that Help Wanted section in your local newspaper, Justin, because your ass is as good as canned.

"I did not intend any racial bigotry, harm or prejudice in my words."  What is this moron talking about?  On what planet is the phrase "jungle monkey" an appropriate term to use when writing about a black man?  If the e-mail wasn't intended to promote bigotry, why didn't he refer to Gates as a "hothead" or a "nutcase?"  Sorry, Barrett, but I ain't buying your two bit apology.  You're a fucking racist.  Moving on... 
If you're a high school graduate about to head off into the exciting world of college this fall, here's a tip on how to make new friends fast: buy them!  It's that easy.  Give enough money to your favorite sorority or fraternity and you've got instant friendships that are required to last a lifetime.  

Sorority life ain't always what it's cracked up to be, however, especially when your president is using your hard-earned friend-making money to commission a wax figure of herself.  Barbara McKinzie, president of Alpha Kappa Alpha, one of the oldest black sororities in America, is being sued, along with AKA's board of directors, for allegedly using $900,000 dollars of the organization's money to get a couple of wax figures made.  $900,000 dollars for a wax figure? Are you kidding me?  A RealDoll costs five-thousand and some change and it can suck your dick!  Some wax figure making SOB just got the luckiest break of his career.  Can you imagine a "board of directors" making the decision to spend $900,000 dollars on a couple of stupid wax dummies?  There's a real Algonquin Round Table for ya.
Iguanas are literally destroying the state of Florida, trouncing it like the miniature-Godzilla-from-the-the-shitty-Roland-Emmerich-version-of-Godzilla they look like, and George Cera is sick and tired of the senseless destruction:

George Cera has an eye for the exotic. Using a pellet gun Wednesday, he took out two iguanas within minutes of stepping into a yard on Siesta Key.

But Cera has no intention of pellet-gunning the suckers down and leaving their carcasses to rot in the sun.  No, sir, Cera intends to eat 'em.  And he wants his fellow Floridians to do the same, in fact, he's made it easy on them by publishing a cookbook:

"This year, Cera decided to put his thoughts on paper. The Sarasota man has published a book called "Save Florida: Eat an Iguana - The Iguana Cookbook."

His philosophy is that if you're going to take something's life, you should eat it."

What a delicious philosophy.  I gots me a hankering for some Iguana Tacos.  
Monorail accidents, Cuban drug runners, elderly drivers, vicious iguanas--doesn't Florida have enough problems?  New York City mayor Michael Bloomberg doesn't think so, so he's sending the homeless:

"Orange County Mayor Rich Crotty has a strong message for the mayor of New York City: Stop sending the homeless to Florida.

Officials in the Big Apple are buying one-way plane, train, and bus tickets for homeless families to leave the city.

It's part of a program to keep the homeless out of the expensive shelter system, which costs $36,000 a year per family. More than 550 families have left the city since 2007 and many of them are coming to Georgia, the Carolinas and Florida."

So, that's where all the homeless people went.  I was remarking to my wife on our most recent visit to NYC how clean and homeless-less the city felt.  "It's so nice here now," I smiled, tossing a half-eaten hot dog into a garbage can just because.  "I don't know where the homeless shuffled off to, but I hope they never come back."  We then shared a hearty laugh.

What an odd program.  "Here's a plane ticket out of town, homeless family.  Why not try being homeless in a warmer part of the country for a bit.  And, kids, you know who lives in Florida? That's right...Mickey Mouse!  I mean, you won't get to meet him or anything, but you could sell knock-off Disney t-shirts on the streets of Orlando to help maintain your mother's crack habit.  OK, guys, have a safe trip.  Don't ever come back"  Odd.

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