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Archive for December, 2008

Gas pump screamers

I would like to take a moment to acknowledge the most annoying and intrusive evolution in advertising since the Internet pop-up ad: gas pump screamers.

You’ve probably been assaulted by one of these things by now. You pull up to the pump, set everything up, and as soon as the gas starts pumping a small electronic box mounted to the side of the pump starts shouting at you about cheap hot dogs or cigarettes or something.

HEY ARE YOU HUNGRY? UNDERCOOKED HOT DOGS ARE ON SALE INSIDE, GET ONE WITH A WATERED DOWN DIET COKE FOR 15 CENTS OFF! YEAH I SAID DIET COKE, FRANKLY YOU LOOK A LITTLE FAT TO ME. BUY SOME FUCKING SMOKES WHILE YOU’RE IN THERE TOO. YOU COULD SHOVE THE WHOLE PACK DIRECTLY UP YOUR ASS AND THEY STILL WOULDN’T BE ANY WORSE FOR YOU THAN THE HOT DOG.

These gas pump screamers commit the following transgressions against decency:

  1. Nobody likes being shouted at by anything, let alone a commercial for gas station food. I would rather let Rosie O’Donnell paint a picture of her last yeast infection on my chest using mayonnaise than hear about your fucking sale on pork rinds when I’m freezing my sack off trying to fuel up my crappy Korean SUV.
  2. If you’re not expecting a sudden loud noise 8″ from your ear while you’re standing on a sheet of ice…enjoy your rapid descent to the pavement, and be sure to thank the gas station manager by breaking his nose with the brand new cast on your shattered wrist. Bonus points if you are overweight, because now you are three months closer to that heart attack you’ve been working towards.
  3. For some reason they are insanely hard to shut off. It always takes at least five seconds to figure out which button shuts the thing off, because instead of labeling it “OFF” they usually have like the Egyptian hieroglyph for deafness on there. So you have to stand there mashing all the buttons and muttering to yourself like “Why won’t this God damn thing shut off?!? I already pressed the Fish Eye button AND the Sun/Moon button! Damn it!”
  4. Even if you accidentally manage to decode which button is the “OFF” button you have to press the thing hard enough to crack the plastic shell to shut it off.
  5. There is no way to avoid these things, because you HAVE to walk past them to pump your gas. Even if you move like a ninja and shut the thing off in two seconds, you still have to go through the extra effort to avoid being screamed at by a robot.
  6. There is nobody you can yell at, because gas station clerks have already given up on life and don’t really give a flat French fuck if you were inconvenienced or upset by something.

The only way anyone could possibly justify these things is if the advertising revenue was offsetting the cost of my gas…you know what, I’m not even going to waste my time finishing that thought. It would never happen.

Fuck you, inventor of the gas pump screamer. I hope your wife is screwing your neighbor, your priest is screwing your son, and your dog is screwing your cat. I hope somebody sneaks up behind you and shouts about frozen pizzas being on sale, and you fall and break your hip. Dickhead.

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As I was watching the Browns get crushed last night on Monday Night Football, all I could think was “I honestly cannot believe Ken Dorsey is in the NFL. He might be the worst pro quarterback in 30 years.”

Consider the following:

* Arm strength – Dorsey makes Chad Pennington look like a turbocharged Howitzer. The punter for the Chicago Bears throws a harder, tighter spiral than Ken Dorsey. Everything he throws looks like it was launched from a medieval catapult.
* Accuracy – It’s a good thing Dorsey can’t throw hard, because if he could he might hurt somebody. On one play last night Dorsey overthrew a screen pass by FIVE YARDS. How do you miss someone standing TWO YARDS AWAY by five yards?!? T-shirt cannons can be fired with better accuracy.
* Decision making – Even if he makes the right decision, by the time his zeppelin-like throws finally arrive at their destination the receiver will be triple covered. At one point last night Andy Reid was able to run onto the field and break up a pass, and his blood type is Crisco.
* Nerves – Here is the sequence of events on Dorsey’s 2nd interception last night:

  1. Eagles linebacker blitzes
  2. Dorsey sharts so hard his socks get wet
  3. Dorsey sends a puke stained, wobbling duck about 8 yards even though the nearest receiver is at least 12 yards away
  4. Other Eagles LB actually looks stunned as he is making the INT, like “why the hell did he throw this to me, there’s nobody else near me?”
  5. Romeo Crennel stares blankly onto field, thinks about ham as ESPN crew makes excuses for Dorsey’s incredibly sad effort at throwing

* Mobility – Can best be described as “Bernie Kosar-esque”. Enough said.
* Intimidation factor – At one point during last night’s game I swear the Eagles defensive players were on the sideline re-enacting Dorsey panicking & laughing their asses off about it.

Is the Browns’ season over yet?

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Having a bad day?

Car won’t start?

Snow to shovel?

Kids a hassle?

Bills to pay?

Let’s focus our energy on the real reason that your life sucks sometimes: Jared from Subway.

Whatever is wrong in your life, I fucking guarantee you that Jared from Subway is somehow responsible. We’re talking about a man who ate until he looked like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka, and then decided that the best way to lose weight would be to EAT A LOT OF FAST FOOD.

And he is getting rewarded for it – what an incredible asshole. Oh look at me, I used to be fat but now I’m just ugly, buy this $6 turkey sandwich that you could make for yourself for $3 if you just went to the fucking grocery store. Look at my giant balloon pants, aren’t you impressed that I lost 9000 lbs almost completely by accident and now I make a living off the fact that I used to eat a tub of “I Can’t Believe it Resembles Butter” for breakfast.

CHOKE ON THAT $5 FOOTLONG YOU SMUG BASTARD!!

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From Peter King’s Dec 7, 2008 MMQB column:

“Ray Lewis, LB, Baltimore. When will he slow down? 2014? The more I watch the Ravens, the more I marvel at his staying power — and not just the staying power to hang around. He’s excelling the same way he was in the Ravens’ Super Bowl year, and he’s leading the same way too — at 33, in his 13th season.”

Hmm, that is a mystery. I wonder if there is anything that a linebacker who looks washed up at age 31 can do to enhance his performance and become a beast again by age 33. If only there were some magical substance that could be injected, taken orally, or rubbed into the skin as a cream that would help with that.

Considering the morality that Lewis has shown in the past (Google “Jacinth Baker” or “Richard Loller” for details) it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that the secret to his longevity involves feeding kittens through a wood chipper while doing his sack dance and laughing maniacally, then soaking in their liquid remains in a sensory deprivation tank for 12 hours.

On the other hand, steroids are easier to get than a Sam’s Club size box of kittens. So it’s probably steroids.

Is Peter King really this naive? Or has he compromised his journalistic integrity for continued insider access to the world of an NFL athlete?

The answer, of course, is “yes”.

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