Oddments

My cynicism knows no bounds, and as a result it's sometimes hard to focus it onto a particular subject.  So I won't.  This is pretty much a freestyle rap of criticism inspired by the photo-dump I just did on my camera phone.  If you can't find something to take offense to in this one, you are more jaded than I.  Congratulations. In the verses of one of my favorite musicians, "You need to slit your wrist, get pissed, and go jump off a bridge."

I love wandering bookstores, but sometimes I find it impossible to heed the old adage about books and their covers.  Because, let's be honest, sometimes the book damn well has it coming.

I wasn't aware the Second Coming had already happened.

Seriously, who is this smug bespectacled bastard?  Based on the titles of his "self-help" manuals, I would have to conclude Paul McKenna is at least in the running for Biggest Douche in the Universe, with all due (dis)respect to the "Situation" and John Edward.  In essence, every one of these tomes of wisdom could be renamed Your Life: You're Doing it Wrong, Bitch.  This no-doubt self-proclaimed guru of New Age doublespeak is telling you - despite probably not having experienced any of these problems himself - what a dipshit you are for not seeing the obvious ways to fix anything and everything wrong in your life.  Luckily, he's here to help you, benighted masses.  Be grateful.

Whatever happened to good ol'-fashioned book burnings?

First off, brilliant title.  I can tell it sprang from the bleach-fried brain of a pompous shithead who's neural circulation is further inhibited by the pair of sunglasses he refuses ever to take off the back of his fat dome.  Second, really?  This was the best cover you could come up with?  Guy Fieri, clad in his vintage 1998 gear, throwing cheese-balls at the camera while flashing his signature I'm-so-muthafuckin'-cool doughnut-smile?  I think there's some sort of sexual metaphor about us taking it in the face from him, but it's not even worth the joke.  There was a time when becoming a TV personality actually meant having a decent one, but those days are long over and we now settle for this kind of shtick.  In fact, I am coining a new term to describe Fieri and his ilk: douche-tool.  Feel free to use it.

Blunt, aren't they?

But at least they're unbiased.

As long as we're on the subject of dubious belief systems, here's another one that drives me up a wall:

Stop.  Lying.

I don't care if you love cuddly-wuddly animals too much to consume anything that came from their bodies, even though our own bodies are unarguably evolved to subsist on such products, you should not be doing this to your unborn baby.  It was only a few years ago when some idiot hippie Georgians (yes, they have hippies down there, apparently) starved their newborn to death by feeding it a vegan diet.  We are an omnivorous species; deal with it.  Sure, it is possible to live on zero animal-products, but claiming it's natural or somehow better for you is 100% wholegrain-fed freerange bullshit.  Is it as horrendous as the McDiet I roundly derided in my last article?  Doubtful.  However, you can propound the superfood/organic/wholistic/holier-than-thou lifestyle as much as you want, yet the fact remains that your diet is far less natural than mine when you have to take a dozen supplements and vitamins, and specifically seek out certain food to compensate for the lack of balanced nutrition on your lentils-soy-milk-and-tofu menu.  Particularly, babies, both in- and outside the womb, need a metric ass-load of nutrients, minerals, and fats for proper pre- and post-natal development, which are found abundantly in, you guessed it, animal byproducts.  If being vegan is so uber-healthy, why aren't all the Olympic athletes doing it?  When was the last time you saw a vegan with defined musculature?  Exactly.  It's just another case of people taking a good idea to illogical extremes. In comedian Ron White's words, "I didn't climb to the top of the food-chain to eat carrots."  (Watch his bit on the subject right here http://comedians.jokes.com/ron-white/videos/ron-white---vegetarians.)

Moving on from the bookshop, what's up with this?

*Facepalm*

My brain reels when I see this kind of insidious, weird marketing.  I don't really have much to say, except what kid just has to have Facebook and Twitter rubber ducks?  In fact, shouldn't the Twitter duck be a songbird?  It's confusing.

Like this.

Some of you are probably too young to remember (which says something), but there was once a truly atrocious movie called Air Bud.  It was your traditional Disney sap story about growing up and reconnecting and reaffirming your self-worth and all that other shit.  Oh, and it had a basketball-playing golden retriever.  Yes, you read that right.  I swear on the Holy Mouse I am not making that up.  Putting aside the moronic oddity of this premise, that flick came out in 1997, and they are still making sequels.  Fourteen goddamn years later.  What the fuck?  The first few were predictably sports-themed, as the titular dog proved to be a multitalented prodigy, kind of like Bo Jackson or Deion Sanders, but then it spun off into surreal strangeness as Bud knocked up some bitch (what? that's the proper term) and had puppies.  Who could also play sports.  And talk.  Talking animals are not unusual in the Disneyverse, of course, but bear in mind they couldn't at the start of the franchise.  Then it stopped being about sports altogether.  And I somehow doubt that's why this latest installment is called Spooky Buddies.  To put it in perspective, this would be like, say, Pixar's Cars franchise starting with the fun-loving anthropomorphic vehicles (bizarre as well, now that I think about it) and ending over a decade later, only the cars no longer talk or do anything themselves and are driven by Paul Walker and Vin Diesel.  Except that has a vague aura of coolness.

Anyway . . .

Blatant ripoffs are Jesus-approved.

The most hilarious part of this?  They are claiming to be quoting an actual Bible verse, namely Psalm 139.  I checked my KJV Bible, and it goes a little something like this:

1	O LORD, thou hast searched me, and known me.
2	Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising;          thou understandest my thought afar off.
3	Thou compassest my path and my lying down,          and art acquainted with all my ways.
4	For there is not a word in my tongue,          but, lo, O LORD, thou knowest it altogether.
5	Thou hast beset me behind and before,          and laid thine hand upon me.
6	Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;          it is high, I cannot attain unto it.
7	Whither shall I go from thy Spirit?          Or whither shall I flee from thy presence?
8	If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there:          if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.
9	If I take the wings of the morning,          and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;
10	even there shall thy hand lead me,          and thy right hand shall hold me.
11	If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me;          even the night shall be light about me.
12	Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee;          but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee.
13	For thou hast possessed my reins:          thou hast covered me in my mother's womb.
14	I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made:          marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.
15	My substance was not hid from thee          when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
16	Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect;          and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.
17	How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God!          How great is the sum of them!
18	If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand:          when I awake, I am still with thee.
19	Surely thou wilt slay the wicked, O God:          depart from me therefore, ye bloody men.
20	For they speak against thee wickedly,          and thine enemies take thy name in vain.
21	Do not I hate them, O LORD, that hate thee?          And am not I grieved with those that rise up against thee?
22	I hate them with perfect hatred:          I count them mine enemies.
23	Search me, O God, and know my heart:          try me, and know my thoughts:
24	and see if there be any wicked way in me,          and lead me in the way everlasting.

Paraphrase much?  I thought Christians were all about the literal accuracy of the Bible.  Pandas, let alone "Pandamania," were not mentioned once, nor were the words "where," "wild," "about," or "you."

"Can U Psychoanalyze Her?"

Not even joking, that was the actual text under this image on my Facebook sidebar.  And I am supposed to believe this is for a legitimate institution of higher learning where psychiatry is taught.  Right . . . Much like I am supposed to believe this:

"Singles."

If you're thinking this girl looks kind of familiar, it's because it's Hilary Duff of Disney Channel fame.  As much as her career has fizzled into nonexistence, I have a hard time buying that she is trolling Facebook for a boyfriend.  Especially given the fact that she's married.

On the plus side, our society is progressive enough that this is also an actual dating service ad.  And I am so cool with that.

  

This is evidently the approved way to deal with downed power-lines in my town.  Anyone else find that weird?  Speaking of weird . . .

Times have sure changed, haven't they?

A lot.  "Smoking - The Healthy Alternative to Candy!"

WARNING: This product may make you look like a dumbass.

But, seriously, I fucking hate these things.  What I hate even more is that they have become wildly popular.  What I probably hate the most is that I found this picture alongside an article on CNN.com about how manufacturers are actively looking for "the next big thing" in retarded lounge-wear.  Really, it's a fucking robe you wear backwards.  Grow up.

Yup, that's a dude.  For reals.

Just . . . yuck.  Go to hell.  Nothing more to say to that.

My wish: that you would stop wearing multiple polos with popped collars, you douchey dying kid.  Yes, I said it.  What?

Oh, yeah, and screw people who are wearing Christmas sweaters right now.  I couldn't take a picture, because I was working, but I had a customer on November 1st wearing a bright red, bulb-embroidered Christmas pullover.  I guess this is sort of an addendum to my guide to women's fashion, but it goes for both genders.  The fact that she was wearing it on the day after Halloween tells me this bitch was literally counting down the days until it was "acceptable" to don this hideous abomination of wool.  My coworkers can attest to the fact I nearly had an aneurysm at the sight of this, a garment that should have gotten the shit kicked out of you often enough as a kid to preclude you ever voluntarily wearing one again.  The easy way to avoid this faux pas?  Never wear a themed sweater at all, you fucking twat, or I'll torrefy you.

*Mic drop*