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Sunday, November 29, 2009

GEP Reviews It! - Dove Men + Care Body and Face Bar

Real men speak English.

Let me get a couple things out of the way right from the start:

1. I'm a man, and, as a man, I have never bought a bar of soap in my life, and, unless I lose my genitals in a freak accident involving an overzealous dominatrix and a rottweiler and a lady clown, I will never buy a bar of soap in my entire life. I rarely even use it, and when I do, it's mostly by accident. Like I said, I'm a man.

2. Lest I run afoul of the FTC's new rules concerning bloggers, I should announce that I did not receive this product for free from the company that produces it. I found it in a pool of urine in an alley beside a bar I frequent. No conflict of interests here.

With that out of the way, let's get down to the review:

From what I can tell, Dove Men + Care Body and Face Bar is a new product for men from Dove that you're supposed to use on your body and face. I used it on all parts of my body and most of my face, and I'm here to tell you whether or not it's worth seeking out in your local urine pool outside a male strip club.

The Pros:

1. Dove Men + Care Body and Face Bar has a nice, clean scent that doesn't resemble any identifiable flower or fruit, so it's manly all the way. It's kind of like Axe Body Spray in that regard, so that's a plus.

2. It's a soap for men, so it makes using soap a less emasculating experience.

3. It comes in a gray box.

4. It's made by Dove, and they use real Doves to make their products, I think, so you're contributing to the death of birds, which, as a hunter, I can totally get behind.

The Cons:

1. The manly, fresh scent is barely discernible once you've finished your shower and put your clothes on and applied deer urine to attract the deer you're hunting, so I STILL had to use about half a can of Axe. I'm left asking myself, "What's the point of soap if I still have to use body spray?"

2. Well, the point could be these "purifying grains" that are embedded in the bar. If done right, this kind of thing has the potential to really rub you raw, giving your skin that manly, rough, "lived in" texture we all strive for, but these "purifying grains" couldn't even pass for 600 grain sandpaper. I mean, come on! I couldn't even use it to remove dust between coats of stain! After several minutes of scrubbing, my skin was still soft and smooth and, well, totally female feeling. I used this soap on my penis, and I still have a penis. That's not very manly coming from a bar for men.

3. The box has a phone number for a homosexual prostitute on it. That's totally gay. What's Dove Men + Care thinking? I wouldn't use their product if I found it in a puddle of urine again.

This box literally sucks dick.

The Verdict: If you're a man, Dove Men + Care Body and Face Bar will leave you wanting more: more smell, more purifying grains, more discernible bird guts, more less propositions for homosexual sex. Come on, Dove. You can do better! Read the rest of this article.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Saturday Morning News Bits: bad Thanksgivings, smuggled lizards, barely-clothed baristas, teachers, and Zhu Zhu

What did you do this Thanksgiving? Gorge yourself with turkey? Fall asleep in front of the Cowboys-Raiders game? Get into an argument about the new health care bill with your father-in-law and shoot him in the face? Well, I spent the day collecting the most important news stories of the past week for a little segment I like to call Saturday Morning News Bits. You're welcome.

I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving. I did. The turkey was perfectly cooked, the pecan pie was sticky and sweet, and my corn casserole was a rousing success. Afterwards my parents, my in-laws, my wife, and I adjourned to the TV room for a football-related good time. It was a Turkey Day fit for the history books, my friends.

It's doubtful that your Thanksgiving was anywhere near as perfect as mine, but I pray it was better than 49-year-old Keith Oliver's because, um, he was shot to death. By his father. Following an argument about chores.

It is not known what kind of chores were being "discussed" when Oliver's 76-year-old father, Alyais, shot and killed his son, but I bet it was about post-Thanksgiving dinner clean-up. Thanksgiving clean-up is worse than every other Thanksgiving chore combined. You've got to find which top goes with which Tupperware container; your wife's all up your ass about scraping off the plates before you put them in the dishwasher; and you get to listen to everyone else slurping coffee and proclaiming how creamy and delicious the pumpkin pie is while your stuck in the kitchen trying to shove a turkey carcass into a freezer bag that is way too small. I get it, Alyais. I'm not sure blowing your son's head off was the right course of action, but I get it.

Not to be outdone, a 35-year-old Miami man named Michael Merihige busted in on a family dinner in Jupiter, FL, and took out four family members, including a 6-year-old girl who was sleeping in her bed at the time of the shooting. I could easily write something violently hyperbolic here--like that Merihige should be sentenced to die in the electric chair with stuffing shoved up his ass and parsley crammed in his mouth-hole--but I'm going to let a comment left on The Miami Herald Web site by someone calling him/herself spacetraveller have the last word. I think he/she sums my feelings up quite nicely:

I hope he drove his miserable, pathetic, loner self into a canal while on the run, and the gators had a great thanksgiving dinner.


Put this story in the "What In The Holy Fuck Were You Thinking?" file. 40-year-old Michael Plank was arrested at LAX this week trying to smuggle lizards into the US. Plank was caught with 15 live lizards STRAPPED TO HIS CHEST! I just puked a little in my mouth.

Agents say the lizards were concealed in a money belt that was strapped to Plank's torso.
Inspectors seized two geckos, eleven skinks, and two monitor lizards. Monitor lizards are a protected species under the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species. The lizards are valued at $8,500 according to U.S. Fish and Wildlife Special Agent Mona Ianelli.

Plank faces up to 20 years in prison and over two-hundred-thousand dollars in fines. My question: What in the holy fuck were you thinking? Is there an underground lizard trade in California? Were you aware that you could get 20 years in the slammer for strapping geckos to your chest before you strapped geckos to your chest? And HOLY SHIT, monitor lizards are huge! Can you imagine having one of these bastards strapped to your chest? That shit is something out of a nightmare!

Add Bellevue, Washington to the list of American cities that hate awesomeness. Yes, local government officials in Bellevue, along with some concerned ("lame") citizens, are fighting to close down Knotty Bodies Espresso, a local coffee stand manned by scantily-clad coeds with a passion for fancy coffee drinks and opulent, largely undeserved tips. So, what's being done to drive these espresso/smut peddlers out of business?

...[T]he city's Deputy Mayor suggested shaming customers who buy coffee at the stand by taking photos of customers and posting them online.

How is taking pictures of people buying coffee from attractive, barely-dressed young women shaming them? Is one supposed to be ashamed by one's attraction to sexy women in two-piece swimsuits? If I've learned anything about the government in my lifetime, it's that the only people who should be ashamed of their sexuality are homosexuals. Now Bellevue is suggesting that us heteros should be ashamed by our sexuality as well? Make up your mind, America. Should all of us--gay, straight, bi, Christian, Muslim, Jew, atheist, black, white, brown, fat, skinny, conjoined, boring, bipolar, hipster, hippie, burnout, fuck-up, mouth-breather, nerd, dork, dweeb, geek, jock, slut, whore, man-slut, pothead, coke-fiend, straight-edge, vegan--be ashamed or proud of ourselves? Society awaits with baited breath.

Until then, keep buying your coffee from hot chicks in bikinis, everybody, because isn't that truly the American Dream? I know it's mine.

Three middle school students were arrested in Waltham, Massachusetts this week for attempting to poison their teacher's bottled water with cleaning supplies. The article doesn't say what subject the teacher taught, but I'll bet it was Algebra. I hated Algebra. I hated any class that centered around numbers and equations. I never blamed my teacher for my intense hatred of the mathematical arts, I just figured I was one of those artsy kids who'd rather be writing poetry or drawing in the margins of his math notes than, you know, paying attention or trying.

The teacher is fine. She noticed that someone had tampered with the bottle before she took a swig. The students--two 13-year-olds and a 12-year-old--are idiots. If you're going to do something to your teacher's water bottle, take a piss in it or stick the top in your crusty butt-hole for 3o seconds.

(GEP urges you not to do either of these things ever. We included these suggestions as an attempt to be funny. We are quite aware that we have failed big time.)

When I was in high school no hot teachers offered to "show me the ropes" sexually (except for that one male teacher who shall remain nameless who literally "showed me his rope" that one night in Freedom Park), and now it happens all the time.

Of course, sometimes teachers aren't interested in the classic notion of the old "in-out, in-out." Some teachers are a little kinkier, like Mooresville, Indiana softball coach Jody Monaghan, the star of a recently uncovered cell phone video. I'm sporting wood already:

A battle is brewing between some parents and the Mooresville Consolidated School Corp. over a teacher some feel is involved too intimately with children.

A 41-second cell phone video shows a junior varsity softball player licking the toes of teacher Jody Monaghan, a former softball coach...

Ew. Toe-licking? That's not sexy. Boner denied.

As a man with self-described "Hobbit feet," I've always encouraged my sexual partners to steer clear of my toe region. Monaghan, however, enjoys a little toe suckage between softball matches. But that's not all Monaghan likes. Oh, no:

Sheila Reecer's daughter said some of the behavior she had witnessed between Monaghan and her teammates happened to her, too.

"She came home and she was real upset and she goes, 'Mom, I need to talk to you about something that happened during softball,'" Reecer said. "She said she had walked past him in the dugout a couple of times, he would just rub his hand across her stomach."

And that is soooo not all:

Rob Allen said incidents reached beyond the softball field and that Monaghan disciplined his daughter in a classroom in front of her classmates.

"He bent her over his lap and spanked her, and I didn't find this out until later on down the road," Allen said.

Obviously, Monaghan had to be disciplined, so he was stripped of his softball coaching duties and is now COACH OF THE GIRL'S SWIM TEAM.

Hey, Mooresville, Indiana school board, how does it feel to be the dumbest collection of idiots on the face of the Earth? This shit does NOT have to happen. Why are the stupid still allowed so much power in this country, especially in the sphere of education? I'd go on, but my brain is starting to cramp up.

...Zhu Zhu the Robot Hamster! That's right, millions of actual hamsters will go unclaimed and unloved in cut-rate pet shops all over the US this holiday season because slipper-sized robo-hamsters from the People's Republic of China are the hot newness. Whatever! Enjoy your cyborg pets, America. I hope you're prepared when the Zhu Zuh Pet Robot Rebellion begins. Don't come runnin' to me for help. I WARNED YE! I WARNED YE ALL!

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Thursday, November 26, 2009

From the Editor's Desk: What I'm Thankful For This Year

Thanksgiving is upon us once again. It is a day when we get together with family, stuff ourselves with starch, and pass out in front of a football game no one particularly cares about, then awake, cram the leftovers into the microwave, and gorge ourselves until we fall asleep at the table in the middle of a heated discussion regarding the football game we didn't care about that we just slept through a few hours earlier.

Thanksgiving is also a time to reflect and give thanks for the blessings you've been, uh, blessed with over the past year. I thought it would be fun to share some things I'm thankful for this year with you, our dear readers. It goes without saying, but I am eternally grateful for your continued support of GEP, in fact, last time I checked the numbers, you've made the 35,627th most popular pop-culture blog in the whole Webiverse. Pat yourselves on the collective back--you deserve it! Anyway, here's this thing:


1. Wikipedia: Thanks to Wikipedia ("The Free Encyclopedia"), I've been able to experience awful movies, like Orphan and Antichrist, without actually having to experience them. Because Wikipedia is written, maintained, and updated by regular, everyday,under-educated, conspiracy-theorizing, spoiler-loving, obsessive compulsive average Joes, it is always the first Web site I visit when I need accurate, up-to-date information on any and every thing. They've got it all at Wikipedia. Want to read about horrible accidents at various Disney World theme parks around the world? Wikipedia's got them! Interested in pegging? Let Wikipedia show you the ropes! Love the Smurfs, but can't remember every characters' name? Wikipedia can help! DUH! Wikipedia is probably the second greatest Web site in the history of the internets (the first being that one with all those cats desiring cheeseburgers or something), and I, for one, don't know what I'd do without it. Die maybe.
2. NBC's Parks and Recreation: I'm just going to say it: I love Amy Poehler. From the Upright Citizens Brigade to SNL to The Mighty B! (God, I miss that show), Poehler has been a beacon of comedy light in a dreary and largely unfunny world. And that is why the first season of Parks and Recreation bummed me out so bad. I mean, I liked it all right, but it wasn't nearly the Amy Poehler laugh machine I'd expected (Thankfully, Aziz Ansari picked up the slack). Then Season 2 rolled around and, dammit, if Parks and Recreation didn't become the best show on NBC's Thursday night line-up, and that's no easy task considering what surrounds it. Kudos to you, Greg Daniels and Michael Schur, for creating one of the best comedies on TV right now.

Season 2's Best Eps: "Pawnee Zoo," "Beauty Pageant," "Kaboom," "Ron and Tammy," and "The Camel."
3. Dalat Delight Medium Spicy: What's a Dalat Delight you say? Well, try this on for size, bucko:

"A delicious combination of scallops, shrimp, beef, chicken, and mixed vegetables stir fried with pineapple chunks and juice to attract natural sweetness, served with steamed rice."

All that goodness for just $11.99 ($9.99 at lunchtime). Order a couple of egg rolls to start and you'll know why Dalat remains one of my favorite Asian eateries in the city of Raleigh.

4. This commercial:

5. Frontline Plus for Cats: I've been too embarrassed to write about it on the blog, but my cat/best friend, Garbage, has, as of late, been lousy with fleas. The fleas were so bad, Garbage successfully tore a huge chunk of his fur out and has been walking around for the past three weeks with a nasty, gaping, sticky-with-blood, exposed scab on his neck, which me and the wife have been referring to affectionately as his "raw spot." FYI: Garbage purrs louder than I've ever experienced when you rub his sticky, pink scab. What a perv.

Anyway, it was discovered at his last check-up that Garbage was hosting a flea family of multiple generations on his person. The vet asked if I had any Frontline left, since we had purchased some the last time we were in. I mistakenly said yes, took Garbage home, and discovered what I thought was Frontline but turned out to be some shitty brand of flea-away that didn't work (If I could remember the name, I would sure-as-hell post it here for all of you to see, but I can't, so, sorry.). Anyway, rather than purchase the correct anti-flea medicine right away (didn't want to accidentally poison the little guy), Jen and I tried some alternative methods of eradicating our flea problem. None of them really worked and each day we felt worse and worse for subjecting our precious kitty to this vicious flea infestation. So, last weekend, Jen determined it would be OK to hit him with some vet-approved Frontline Plus for Cats of this morning, Garbage is flea-free. Thank you, Frontline Plus for Cats. Wanna be a sponsor? interested?
6. Shields of Gemland: My very favorite bit of time-wastery this year was Shields of Gemland. It got me through some tough times, my friends. It may not look like much, and it isn't, but you can book some major time-wastage with this one. And the music is epic! Procrastinators, you're new favorite game is here.

I mean here.
I'm also thankful for my wife, my parents, my unborn niece, my job, blah, blah blah...


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Sunday, November 22, 2009

Saturday Morning News Bits-Sunday Edition: Palin, underwear, Dubya, deer, Sandwich, Miley, and Sporty


Sarah Palin was back in the news this week. Not only was her first (and let's pray, last) book, titled Going Rogue, which I assume is a euphemism for not wearing underwear, released, but she also appeared on the Oprah Winfrey Show. Palin also took a couple of minutes to speak out against Newsweek magazine's cover photo choice on her Facebook page:

"The choice of photo for the cover of this week's Newsweek is unfortunate. When it comes to Sarah Palin, this "news" magazine has relished focusing on the irrelevant rather than the relevant. The Runner's World magazine one-page profile for which this photo was taken was all about health and fitness -- a subject to which I am devoted and which is critically important to this nation. The out-of-context Newsweek approach is sexist and oh-so-expected by now. If anyone can learn anything from it: it shows why you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, gender, or color of skin. The media will do anything to draw attention -- even if out of context."

Wait. This photo of you in skimpy running shorts looking all hot Tina Fey-style is Newsweek's attempt at illustrating the boring old "don't judge a book by its cover" argument? I'm sorry, Ms. Palin, but when I look at this photograph of you striking a semi-sensual pose next to an American flag, the only thing I'm thinking is, "That is one former-governor of Alaska I wouldn't mind going a couple of rounds with in the sack." Am I judging your "book" incorrectly? Are you not a hellcat in the bedroom? Are you really nothing more than a semi-retarded, tragically uninformed bit of Republican eye-candy?

While we're judging books by their covers, allow me to weigh in on Palin's Going Rogue: An American Life, the cover of which can be seen here: this book is boring. Should've gone with the Runner's World photo, Sarah. You look better with your hair up. Is that sexist?

Also, I didn't think Sarah Palin kept up with news magazines or literature in general. How did she even find out about the Newsweek cover?
This story courtesy of CBS 4 in Colorado gave me a laugh boner:

Police in Golden are releasing details about an odd crime last week in which a resident found an intruder in his home who had made himself comfortable.

Police said they responded to a burglary call where shots were fired in the 1200 block of Mesa Court on Nov. 9. When officers arrived they found the homeowner holding a man at gunpoint.

The homeowner told police he returned home at about 5 p.m. and found a car that wasn't his in his garage.

"When he opened his garage door he found that there was a white Lexus ES300 parked in his garage. He entered his home and went to the master bedroom. The homeowner noticed that several items were out of place," said Golden police spokesman Jeff Hesalroad in a prepared statement.

Hesalroad said the homeowner then went to his bedroom and got his handgun. He called out and a man answered. Police say he found Timothy P. Gonzales wearing only a pair of boxers that belonged to the homeowner.

If this isn't the plot of the upcoming sequel to The Strangers, consider the ball officially dropped.
Former first lady Laura Bush unveiled the plans for the forthcoming George W. Bush Presidential Library last week and, I'm not gonna lie, I'm pretty excited. Dubya's library will include:

*100 rotating magazine racks containing nothing but Highlights For Children
*A photo gallery featuring the permanent exhibit George W. Bush: 8 Years, 800 Silly Faces
*Finger painting stations
*A make-your-own-ice-cream-sundae bar
*An entire floor dedicated to Garfield comics
*A 6-foot statue of Dubya and Jesus Christ sharing a beer with one another in the foyer
*Books, prolly
*And a water slide!

None of that is even remotely true. For the real story, check out this link.

Oh, the library will include a replica of the Oval Office. I don't know if that comes standard with a presidential library or not, but that sounds pretty cool. You could sit in the replica seat in the replica office of one of the worst presidents in American history. I've got my 2013 summer vacation planned, unless, you know, the world has already ended.
I haven't showered in two days, but I know I don't smell nearly as bad as North Buffalo, PA did last week. Not yet anyway. So, what was the problem? Well...

Pennsylvania Department of Transportation crews have removed some 200 deer carcasses piled in a yard in North Buffalo Township, Armstrong County.

Channel 4 Action News' Amber Nicotra spoke to PennDOT's Harold Swan, who said crews began removing the remains from the property on Sportsman Road around 5:30 a.m. on Wednesday.

The carcasses were collected by Randy Good, an Armstrong County man who's contracted to remove them from southwestern Pennsylvania roadways.

Yes, you read correctly. Don't question your eyesight or comprehension skills just yet. Randy Good was hired by the government to remove dead animals from Pennsylvania's roads and he hasn't come up with a better method of disposal than PILING THEM IN HIS FRONT YARD! What the hell?! Shouldn't that be one of the issues discussed when you're hiring someone to keep the roads free and clear of rotting animal carcasses?

"So, Mr. Good, if you get the job, how do you plan on disposing of these deer corpses once you've collected them from the roadside?"

"Well, I was thinking I'd stack them on my lawn, you know, out where everyone can see and smell them on a daily basis."

"Best plan I've heard yet. You are hired, sir!"

I do kind of feel bad for Good though. Apparently, North Buffalo, PA is the place to be if you like running deer down with your car. So many deer are being flattened, Good can't keep up:

Good said there have been so many that he's overwhelmed. He has a contract with PennDOT to pick up dead deer in five counties. He said he's been picking up 50 or more a day.

Good is required to take the carcasses to approved landfills, which are closed on the weekend. So, in order to use his truck to pick up the new ones, he's been discarding the old ones in his yard.

You can see a picture of Good's deer pile here, but I wouldn't recommend it. There are somethings you can't un-see. You've been warned.
Uh-oh, there's trouble brewing in Sandwich, Massachusetts:

A meeting was held at a school in Sandwich on Tuesday night to address concerns over exhibits displayed during a science class earlier in the week.

Parents of some fifth grade students at the Forestdale School in Sandwich attended the meeting with school officials.

The speaker, a pathologist assistant, showed students slides of lung tissue, a brain, skin, a kidney, and a spleen. He also showed human embryos and zygotes, the fertilized female egg that eventually develops into an embryo.

The embryo images angered some parents who consider fifth graders too young to be exposed to such things.

They were shown pictures of embryos, people! The speaker didn't show them graphic pictorial depictions of babymaking or a slide presentation on the birth of conjoined twins or something. They looked at pictures of organs and embryos. Who gives a shit? What, did some fifth grade boy see a picture of a zygote and go, "OMG, I've got to start banging girls, like, immediately!"

I hate to read about bad things happening in deliciously named places.

SANDWICH, MASSACHUSETTS FUN FACT: Two members of something called The Whitest Kids U Know grew up in Sandwich. Neat, I guess.
It was a sloooooow entertainment news week, but The Mormon Vampire Saga: New Moon provided a bright spot for people who like that sort of thing. So, what does pop tart Miley Cyrus think about the Twilight phenomenon:

“I’ve never seen [Twilight], and nor will I ever...I don’t believe in it—I don’t believe in it. I don’t like vampires, I don’t like any of the stuff, like the wolf that pops out of the screen when I’m watching my TV at night. I don’t like it, I don’t want anything to do with it. I don’t like the shirts, any of it.”

OK, Miles, we get it. Sheesh! I mean, you've really got to hate something when you lash out at the merchandise surrounding it. By the way, EW, who gives a shit about this again? I missed that part.

On a personal note, my admiration for Miley Cyrus is waning. I know that has shocked some of you, probably to the point of heart palpitations, but it's true. While I do agree with her on Twilight--it is totally effing dumb--this recent interview made me a little sad:

Two things: 1) Why is Miley dressed like an Indian? And 2) why are those two little girls flanking her NOT dressed like Indians?
I'm sure you've already heard, but Sports Clips mascot, Sporty, was viciously attack by two men last week in Madison, Wisconsin. Here's the story from

A Madison man dressed as his business' rubber-suited mascot was attacked this past weekend.

When it comes to promoting his West Side business, Steve Smith makes sure to jump in head first. With a rubberized suit, and a small motor strapped to his waist, he transforms into his alter-ego "Sporty," the mascot of his Madison Sport Clips business.

Smith said people gravitate to Sporty, who waves to passerby along the busy street.

"It's just guerilla marketing. It's drawing attention to ourselves," said Smith. "You see all these cars, they're going to stop. They see us, they wave. Their kids love to take their pictures with us."

But this past weekend, Sporty drew the wrong kind of attention. Smith said two men attacked him from behind.

"I felt somebody jump on me," said Smith. "At first, I thought it was one of my stylists, but they know better because you never touch Sporty. He could tip over real easily."

Smith said two attackers jumped on him and pushed him to the ground.

"We fell over to the curb, and then into the street," said Smith. "While they were on top of me jumping on me and punching me, I started yelling at them to get off. I was calling the police."

Like the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, I will never forget where I was when I first read about Sporty's beatdown (I was eating lunch at my desk). What could drive two young men to beat up the friendly mascot of a local haircuttery while his 12-year-old daughter looked on (oh, yeah, that happened--read the article)? Sure, there is something empty and cold about Sporty's eyes, but look at that smile. Sporty is about love. Sporty is about community. Sporty is about affordable haircuts.

If I'm being honest, Sporty irks me a little. I can't put my finger on why exactly, but when I first saw his picture, I had the uncontrollable urge to punch my computer screen.
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Tuesday, November 17, 2009

5 Lamest Fads and Trends Throughout the Years

In three days, Hollywood will unleash the second film in the Twilight saga, New Moon, into American theaters. I can almost hear the squealing of a million preteen girls and their tragically delusional mothers now. To celebrate, GEP is taking a look back at some of the fads and trends that have come and (thankfully) gone over the past years in a little segment we like to call "5 Lamest..."
Remember tamagotchi, the digital pet you could feed 'til it died? I never had one of my own, but I overfed my fair share of friend's tamagotchis. I wasn't a sociopath or anything--I never spiked the classroom hamster's water with anti-freeze or exposed myself in church--there was just something about that pixelated little duck-mouse that made me want to stuff it's belly full of digi-grub. I'd feed it, ignore it's pleas for sleep, feed it some more, feed it, feed it, feed it as it cried, feed it, refuse to toss the ball with it, feed it, allow it to wallow in its own feces, feed it, and watch it's eyes turn into Xs. I miss my childhood.
The invention of the mobile phone, while making communication easier and more efficient, sounded the death knell for America's first national past time, phone booth stuffing. Now everybody's walking around with their iPhones, downloading apps and watching Jonas Brothers videos and sexting and what have you with nary a phone booth in sight. Sure, phone booth stuffing was all the rage from roughly the beginning of 1959 until about halfway through 1959 (replaced in popularity by something called "hunkerin'"), but it was still a helluva good time. Young men were known to cram 25 at a time into the naroow booths, sweaty and giggling, their supple bodies rubbing against one another, sometimes shirtless to make room for even more smooth-chested young gents. No wonder they called 'em the Gay Late-50's!
Maybe the Chicken Soup for the... series isn't lame--I've never read even part of one--but one look at the above cover and I'm fairly certain my assumption is correct. Stories about Disses, Losses, Messes, Stresses & More, huh? Unless your teenager son or daughter is lobotomized, I'd expect to find this book either at the bottom of your trash compactor or hurtling into your face if you've purchased them a copy this Christmas.

The title says it all, I think. Chicken soup is the most trite, cliche, LAME cure all for the common cold and a book claiming to do the same for your soul sounds like a lie.

And, hey, you didn't have to be a teenager to benefit from Chicken Soup for the Soul's treacly goodness. Other titles include Chicken Soup for the African-American's Soul, Chicken Soup for the Chiropractic Soul, Chicken Soup for the Horse Lover's Soul, Chicken Soup for the NASCAR Soul, Chicken Soup for the Prisoner's Soul, and my personal favorite, Chicken Soup for the American Idol Soul. All of these books are, regrettably, very real.
Chuck Norris jokes are a lot like the comedy stylings of Dane Cook: beloved by frat guys who don't know any better and not funny. Sure, fine, they were fun for a few seconds, but can we just move on already. I never thought I'd see a trend more irritating than quoting Napoleon Dynamite or Borat impressions, but Chuck Norris Facts are somehow more annoying than both of them combined. I mean, seriously, somebody tell me what's funny about this:

Chuck Norris can kill two stones with one bird.

What? I saw what you did there, Dat Phan, but it ain't funny. And what about this one:

When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.

C'mon! The Boogeyman doesn't sleep. He's too busy jumping out of kids' closets all over the world. He probably doesn't have his own closet anyway. He just uses our closets as a system of gateways from place to place. Lazy! Oh, and try this one on for size:

Chuck Norris once ate three 72 oz. steaks in one hour. He spent the first 45 minutes having sex with his waitress.

OK. That's actually funny.
Mention the word "skids" to someone and they are liable to think that you're talking about those brown stains in Louie Anderson's underpants. They would be wrong. First of all, Louie wears boxer shorts. And second, Skidz were totally dumb flannel Hammer-pants that I actually wore (along with a big ol' Skidz-logo t-shirt) when I was in middle school. Just look at those people in the above ad. They look so happy, like a bunch of mental patients enjoying a day off hospital grounds. Seriously, Skidz were like pants for nursing home-bound old people who spend their days eating pudding, drooling in front of a soap operas, and farting. These were not pants for vibrant members of society. Luckily, the Skidz trend died off faster than an overfed tamagotchi and we were all free to return to our stone-washed jeans with the rolled cuffs and our Hypercolor t-shirts.

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Saturday, November 14, 2009

Saturday Morning News Bits: prayer bus, bumper stickers, stupid coyotes, Britney Spears, XXX-mas, Oreo, and a crook cook

This story out of Atlanta perfectly illustrates why I never have and never will use public transportation:

A MARTA [Metropolitan Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority] bus driver is on suspension following allegations that he forced passengers to pray before allowing them to exit the bus.

Christopher James was one of those passengers. James said, initially, he thought something was wrong when he rang the bell to get off the bus and the door didn’t open.

James said the bus driver asked him and three other passengers to join hands in prayer. James said the driver prayed with the group for about four minutes.

You gotta be careful with dudes like Leroy Matthews, the bus driver in question. Today he's forcing confused passengers into an impromptu prayer circle, and the next thing you know he's shooting up a K & S Cafeteria with an AK-47. I don't trust people who do their prayin' in public. I always assume that he or she is mere seconds away from snapping. It's one of the reasons I've never felt comfortable at a Billy Graham Crusade. That and the fact that they're called "crusades."
You thought the Democrats had cornered the market on side-splittingly hilarious, eff-the-current-president bumper stickers? Well, you're in for a big surprise, bucko, because the Republican Party can be just as pants-wettingly vicious when it comes to puntastic bumper art:

Firefighter Mike Di’Giacomo said his SUV is banned from in the firehouse because the bumper stickers he has on it, displays his political views.

Di’Giacomo said he has never run into a problem like this in the 10 years he has been with the department.

The bumper stickers read:

Somewhere in Kenya, a village is missing its idiot

I’ll keep my guns, freedom and money. You keep the change

Obama Bin Lyin. Impeach Now

What? No NObama? No Obama Has a Crisis of Competence? Dude, where's your Don't Blame Me. I Voted for the American sticker? It's obvious you've got some political views to share, Mr, Di'Giacomo, so why only three bumper stickers? You should completely cover your SUV in anti-Obama sentiment, like my cousin. The entire back window of his SUV advertises a Web site that exposes the conspiracy behind Obama's election. How can you consider yourself a diehard Conservative when your ride doesn't even sport the moving and poignant message Bend Over: Here Comes the Change? How do you show your face down at the country club without a Hey, Obama, I'm Baroke sticker/t-shirt combo?

I could go on, but I won't.
By now you've probably heard the tragic story of Taylor Mitchell, the Canadian folk singer mauled to death by two coyotes while hiking last week. Now, I know I spent the last month encouraging the animal kingdom to rise up and destroy mankind, but I feel I've been misunderstood. Allow me to clarify, animals: go after the bastards--leave the good guys alone. Coyotes, a Canadian folk singer is not your enemy. Folk singers by their very nature are forest-loving tree-huggers, crunchy introspective souls with a beautiful message, usually one about social justice for man and animal alike, to share. There's no reason to attack and kill a folk singer, especially not one in the prime of her life. That was a dick move, coyotes. Do you know how many cat-killers are still walking the streets without coyote-bites in their asses? Tons. You can't swing the body of a cat who has died of natural causes without hitting a cat who has been viciously eviscerated by some asshole teenage boy who's never been given a handjob, let alone, kissed a girl. You should concern yourself with those pricks, coyotes, not sweet, Canadian songbirds.

All silliness aside, if a couple of coyotes decided to chew my hypothetical daughter to bloody bits, you better believe I'd declare a jihad on all coyote-kind. Not a coyote would go un-kicked-in-the-balls. I'd be busting caps in so many coyotes' asses there'd be a nationwide bullet shortage. Believe dat! Coyotes would be on the endangered species list in no time.

Mitchell's mother, however, is pleading for the lives of the coyotes that tore her daughter to pieces:

...Mitchell responded to her daughter’s death saying, “We take a calculated risk when spending time in nature’s fold — it’s the wildlife’s terrain,” she wrote. “When the decision had been made to kill the pack of coyotes, I clearly heard Taylor’s voice say, ‘Please don’t, this is their space.’ She wouldn’t have wanted their demise, especially as a result of her own.”

Nature's fold? Ah, yes, the downside of folk singers and their ilk: they are largely insufferable. I don't care how deep I am in Nature's sweaty folds, if I'm not fucking with the local wildlife, I expect it to not fuck with me. It's common knowledge that coyotes will more likely than not run in the opposite direction when confronted by a human. The human doesn't have to be screaming or trying to force the coyote into a prayer circle--his or her mere presence is enough to send a coyote packing. The coyotes that tore your sweet, talented daughter to shreds were not normal coyotes. They had, much like Sarah Palin before them, gone rogue.

The joke is on Mrs. Mitchell however. Before her statement went public, one overly-aggressive coyote has been shot and killed, another wounded. Good riddance I say.

(If you want to donate money to the Taylor Mitchell Memorial Fund, check out her Web site here. I don't know what the money goes to, but I like to think it goes toward a nationwide coyote sterilization project. Stupid coyotes.)
Australians demand more from the world's pop elite, and why shouldn't they? When they pay 1500 dollary-doos to see a concert, they expect the performer to sing live, not lip synch to a silly track. In fact, the Australian government requires performers to disclose whether or not they plan to lip synch during a show. Australians take their pop music seriously, which is why a bunch of them walked out of a recent Britney Spears concert, befuddled and enraged:

...disgruntled fans left Spears' show at the Perth Burswood Dome only three songs into the concert, complaining of a lackluster performance, apparent lip-synching and their inability to see Spears on the jumbo screens onstage.

"We are really big Britney fans, but it was crap," Josh Blee complained to Australia's News Limited newspapers. "I thought after the music awards she would make up for it with a wicked concert, but she has let us down."

Hey, Australia, I admire your efforts to keep artists honest, but be reasonable. Think about it: do you really want to hear Britney Spears sing live? I promise, you're not going to like what you hear. Britney Spears is awful. Take away the over production and the auto tuning there's, like, nothing there. It's shit. Awful, pathetic shit. I'm willing to bet that if Spears had sung live there would have still been massive walkouts. You literally witnessed the best Britney Spears can do. If you're not satisfied, well, you've only got yourselves to blame.
Ladies and gentleman, I give you...PORNAMENTS! Nothing says Happy Birthday, Jesus like a hand-painted Nativity scene, stockings hung by the chimney with care, and a Christmas tree ornament depicting a nude woman performing oral sex on a horny snowman.

Oddly enough, not every heart is warmed by the idea of classic yuletide characters going down on one another. Pastor Clint Wilder of Jacksonville, Florida, who organized a protest against the first wave of Pornaments three years ago, is sickened by their return. "It's offensive to me," he told Channel 4 News. "It's highly offensive. These are pornography. They should not be in the eyes of children, and they should not be where children shop."

I agree with Pastor Clint on one point: Pornaments should not be in the eyes of children, in fact, children shouldn't be shoving anything, ornaments or otherwise, into their peepers. They could do irreparable damage to their precious eyesight. As to his other points: [fart noise]! Geez, what a Scrooge! He acts as if kids have never seen two sparkly male elves have anal sex with one another or a gingerbread man give it to his gingerbread girlfriend doggystyle before. These are magical Christmas moments that need to be experienced by every child.

You can check 'em all out at (probably NSFW). My favorite is the one where Santa is being ass-banged by an elf wielding a very large candy cane.
We report a lot of horrible pet abuse stories here at Giant Electric Penguin, and rarely do they have a happy ending. The story of Oreo, a dog who was unceremoniously flung from a Brooklyn rooftop by her dickhead owner, is an exception:

Oreo, a pit bull mix, was hailed as a miracle dog when she survived being hurled off a Brooklyn rooftop last summer. She had two broken legs and a broken rib.

Her owner was arrested on cruelty charges, and Oreo, a dark brown dog with white paws and forelegs and a white stripe down her forehead, was nursed back to health. Dozens of people expressed interest in adopting her.

They will not get the chance. After overseeing her recovery, the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals has decided she has to be put to death. Oreo will be euthanized on Friday, according to the society’s president and chief executive, Ed Sayres.

Wait, what? You mean Oreo survived her harrowing 6-story plunge and was nursed back to health only to be snuffed out? WTF, ASPCA?

As it turns out, Oreo's ordeal turned her from a loving pet into a vicious monster. "Oreo's aggression is triggered by, basicallly, everything," Sayres goes on to say in the story. Oreo would've never fit in with polite society again and in the end death was the only option.

OK, so I dropped the ball this time, but I vow to find a pet abuse story with a happy ending before the end of 2009.
Oh, man, this one's a humdinger:

HARRISBURG, Pa. -- A Harrisburg family said that a fire in their kitchen was caused by an intruder who was cooking.

Ebony Brown and her 13-year-old son left their Crescent Street row home for about 15 minutes Thursday night.

When the son returned, he saw a man who appeared homeless frying up some food.

Brown's son confronted the man who dropped the pan on the burner.

The kitchen went up in flames and the man ran away.

"He needed something to eat and somewhere warm. I guess my house was the target, maybe he was sitting there watching us leave," said Ebony Brown.

No one was hurt.

If caught, the alleged intruder could face burglary, theft and arson charges.

I guess you could say that guy's plan went UP IN SMOKE! Have a great weekend, folks!

Read the rest of this article.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

A Special Treat for GEP's Lady Fans

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!
Some friends of the blog put together something hot and sexy to keep you ladies warm this autumn. You're welcome.

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You're An Asshole, Nicholas Sparks

A couple times a month, I visit the iTunes Movie Trailer site and watch all of the new previews. It doesn't matter who stars or what the genre is, I'll watch the trailer. Usually I'm confronted with a treasure trove of awful, but sometimes I'll stumble across something that actually seems worth checking out. Whatever the case, there is usually one trailer that succeeds in making me cry like a chubby girl on prom night. This week it was the trailer for Dear John, the latest film based on a Nicholas Sparks novel.

I've just got one thing to say to you, Nicholas Sparks: you are an asshole! I was just sitting at my desk watching an awful trailer for a terrible movie based on your stupid book 1:12, I'm bawling. For serious. I've got tears running down my face, snot dripping into my beard--just a complete fucking mess.

I'm an emotional guy. I'm not embarrassed. My eyes are raw and puffy by the end of just about every LOST episode. After completing a traumatic three months of student teaching in a Harnett County high school, an experience I still refuse to talk about, the only cure for my malaise was a viewing of my all-time favorite tearjerker, Dancer in the Dark (Something about watching Bjork being hanged for a crime she barely committed really gets to me). I still count sobbing through The Green Mile in a nearly empty theater one afternoon as one of the most rewarding and, hell, cathartic moviegoing experiences of my life. And it doesn't take sad shit to make me shed a cry. The little Pixar lamp can bounce across the screen and I'm a blubbering mess because I know what's coming. I lost it during the opening moments of the first Chronicles of Narnia movie because I love the book so much.

But a Nicholas Sparks movie? Not even a movie--the trailer for a movie! I can't imagine what would happen if I accidentally wandered into a showing of Dear John. I might actually cry my dick off and maybe later find a vagina growing where my penis used to hang.

Damn it, Nicholas Sparks! You're an asshole!

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Monday, November 9, 2009

GEP Consumer Reviews: Looking at Porn So You Don't Have To

If you're like me (you have a computer), you've probably gotten your fair share of e-mail spam from porno sites on the electrical web. If you're a little more like me (but only just a little), you've been tempted to click on some of those links (you know, in the interest of consumer research) but were afraid they'd install all sorts of malicious malware and hand control of your computer over to an Ethiopian warlord in Kenya or something. Well, we here at GEP have decided to go ahead and click those links and find out where they really lead. And guess what we found: some really great porn, and some awesome new friends. Hi, Getachew.

Check out these sites I found through real spam:

In a world of homogenized entertainment, Charged Bitch, Krista Enjoying The Stroke Of Her Man's Fingers To Her Yummy is a breath of fresh air. You heard that right, Charged Bitch, this site is specifically tailored to your desires: specifically, Krista enjoying the stroke of her man's fingers to her yummy. I don't know Krista, so I felt a little uncomfortable looking at her yummy, but I'm sure this is right up Charged Bitch's alley, and Krista does seem to enjoy her man's fingers. File this one under “Specialty Porn.”

Eastern Porn Free Doctor Sex Exam Pictures and Stories is the source for sex exam pictures and stories on the internet today, and all stories and pictures on the site feature totally 100 percent free doctors who are absolutely not being forced at gunpoint to perform these sex exams for your pleasure. Their families are also not being threatened, and they're not being blackmailed for crimes that don't involve sex exams. So if you enjoy sex exam stories and pictures, and it's important to you that the doctors in your sex exam stories and pictures are 100 percent free, then Eastern Porn Free Doctor Sex Exam Pictures and Stories is the site for you. I know that slave-free porn, like porn that uses condoms, isn't everyone's cup-o-tea, but this socially-conscious porn site has a lot to offer porn-loving abolitionists and those living in countries that ban slavery.

If specialty porn isn't your “thang,” Clothes Sucked Off Spanking Club 26th Street Dick in Mounth just might be. Clothes Sucked Off Spanking Club, one of the largest and most popular spanking clubs in Peoria, Illinois, has just featured there 26th street dick exhibition this “mounth,” and they've launched this website to celebrate. They say modesty is a virtue, but you'll forgive Clothes Sucked Off Spanking Club for bragging when you see the 26 street dicks on display here! All races, ages (over 18!), sexual orientations, and “street stories” are represented. One of the biggest thrills of the street dick kink is all the juicy gossip attached to the dick concerning his pre-street life, and no one knows that better than Clothes Sucked Off Spanking Club. You've got the Asian street thug living in his grandmother's tool shed because her house is filled with the overpowering aroma of her rotting corpse. There's the Caucasian meth addict who sleeps under the guard rail at the corner of SW Jefferson and William Kumpf Boulavard because he was kicked out of his booth at Denny's. Who knew the fry cook at Joe's Crab Shack on the shore of Lake Peoria sleeps in an abandoned sandbox in Mayfair park because he is, in his own words, “plumb crazy”? Now you do, and you can see his dick for a low 2-day trial price of $9.95.

We've all thrilled at the sight of 10% off Joel Osteen as his Lakewood Church on TV broadcasts when he takes off his jacket in a fit of righteous ecstasy, and we live and die for those moments of 15% Joel Osteen when he takes off his tie as well, but 40% Off New Joel Osteen, Coupon & More offers brand new behind-the-scenes access to Joel Osteen, his daughter Coupon, and several other animals and elderly choir members all appearing almost completely half naked! Recommended if you like: Christian Porn

What can I say about Immune System Fatty Acid Strip Club in Fort Worth Nude Wheelechair that hasn't been said already? This: Everything you think you know about Immune System Fatty Acid Strip Club in Fort Worth Nude Wheelechair is wrong, right, and everything in between. If you haven't experienced Immune System Fatty Acid Strip Club in Fort Worth Nude Wheelechair's unique brand of smooth jazz/soft rock/really nasty hardcore porn, then run as fast as you can to your nearest Computer Booth brand wank station (there's one in the Mall of America) and insert 17,000 Dinari for your government approved 23 minutes of bliss. Do it now or your friends will think you're gay. Read the rest of this article.