I don’t have a car so I take BART just about everywhere.  On BART are these ads that have always bothered me and I finally remembered to write down my thoughts.  There is this adoption agency in San Francisco called adoptionsf.org which has ads all over the BART system about how everyone should look into adopting kids.  I agree that kids need to be adopted whole heartedly, but the ads give me the heebie-jeebies.  Here are five of them:

Your adopted kid comes with presets like the ability to play the violin.  Look at it as adopting a genius who years from now will make millions and help you reach retirement early.  The way those parents are eyeing Curtis makes me uneasy, it’s like he’s meat.  I’d Photoshop in drool but I’m sure you have the proper image in your head.

Your adopted kid he will do all his homework on time and be an astronaut.  Think about it, your adopted kid could be the first to walk on Mars.  If I ever adopt a kid, I’m going to make sure he becomes an astronaut.  “But dad, my skin is turning orange!” “Shaddup and drink your Tang!”

Your adopted kid will protect you from ninjas.  I thought about getting a really big dog, but opted for the personal bodyguard instead.  One can never tell when your attack-child might come in handy.

Your adopted kid will pitch over 100MPH.  All that time watching sports on TV will finally pay off when your kid signs a $400 Million dollar contract and you can brag about how great a coach you were.  Just remember to clean the steroid needle every time you use it (probably at night while he’s sleeping).

Your adopted kid will actually graduate from somewhere.  Many people think adopted kids will end up addicts, homeless and pregnant with octuplets, but they’re wrong!  You kid will be an outstanding member of society who will actually graduate from somewhere!  Order now!

Honestly though, they couldn’t have just had pictures of the parents with the kids doing normal stuff like playing frisbee or petting a dog?  All of these ads depict the kid doing something out of the ordinary, extraordinary one might say.  If the ad campaign works then I’m all for it, but until I see those numbers I can’t help but think they might go more extreme down the road…

International Talk-Like-A-Pirate Day fast approaches (Sept 19th) so I thought I’d post a song I wrote in Niger about the best drink in the world… GROG!

Solo: Some call it briney and some call it slimey!

Everyone: But put to the test, it beats all the rest!

S: No advice you be heedin’ though your gums they be bleedin’!

E: But put to the test, it beats all the rest!

(Chorus)

Grog! Grog! A wonderful drink!

You’ll smell like a skunk and then die from the stink!

And if my dear swill be forbidden by god,

I’d rather be burnin’ than part with my grog!

S: Your vision goes hazy and it makes you quite crazy!

E: But put to the test, it beats all the rest!

S: It makes you quite nervy and saves you from scurvy!

E: But put to the test, it beats all the rest!

(Chorus)

So hoist up your glasses and raise them up high,

Salute that black flag way up in the sky!

Lift up your elbows and give ‘em a twist,

Drink all your grog or you’ll eat my damn fist!

I know it’s easy for people online to say shocking stuff like how all Mac users need to die because they’re hipsters with too much money, or how Democrats should all be aborted because they love abortion.  I’m not trying to make this post like that.  I genuinely kinda want your kid to die just so I can see what you’d do with that family bumper-sticker you have on your car.

You see, I had started seeing these bumper-stickers last year and immediately developed a huge hatred of them just because they annoyed the hell out of me.  I even found them more annoying than the zillions of ribbon bumper-stickers I see everywhere.  It got so bad that it eventually occurred to me that these families are basically asking to be smote (that’s what I assume is the past tense of ’smite.’  I particularly liked Urban Dictionary’s definition of smited).

Here you are, showing the world that you have a large happy family with pets and whatnot, and I can’t help but wonder what they will do if a kid of theirs dies.  Do you leave him or her on there in memoriam?  Do you break out a razor blade and wipe them out?  In which case you better hope the youngest dies first so you don’t have to scoot them all over one space.  Or maybe you can replace one with a tombstone that has R.I.P. on it.

I honestly don’t know, and with all the assholes driving around with these stupid stickers, I know someone has had to deal with this kind of scenario.  I honestly wonder if that scene might show up in some indie flick about moving on from your children dying.

I almost feel like if you’re going to put those stickers on your car, they should at least be real to life.  One kid is a goth, another a jock who is beating on the goth, the dad is watching TV and drinking beer, the wife is banging a stick pool-boy, and the daughter already has two little stick kids of her own.  I would honestly love to see that.

Hey religious crazies, when you say god speaks through you or you try and imitate how it speaks, it’s not in Olde English.  Seriously, just because you throw in an ‘art’ a ‘thou’ and a ‘hath’ does not make it the literal word of god.

I had read this screencap from a 4chan attack on people who are of the highly religious persuasion.  They hacked into Facebook accounts and left messages like ‘I LOVE PENIS!’ and other obviously non-religious stuff like pregnancy while not married, suicide, and having sex.  Lo and behold, of course someone responded in a biblical god voice (check out #3).

I know, all they used was the word ‘whence’ but it’s been bothering me since I read it a week or so ago.  It reminded me of the book ‘Under the Banner of Heaven’ by Jon Krakauer which detailed the rise of a mini-cult within the LDS Church.  The leader of the group said god had spoken through him and he typed it down on a computer.  Of course it was littered with all the Olde English sayings which to all the other idiots means god spoke through him for sure.

I guess my point is that more than likely god doesn’t speak in Olde English.  It probably speaks in either some ethereal language that no one can understand, in barbaric grunts, or modern Chinese.

So my buddy John Wulff has added a new feature to Project Paranoid, our map wiki that hopes to map every external camera in North America.  Check out more details here.  Basically if you have a phone or camera that tags the photo with GPS, we need your help.

We need you to start snapping photos of external cameras (security, red-light, webcam, traffic and speed cameras) with your phone and emailing them to newcamera@projectparanoid.com which will automatically populate the images on our map.  You can then go to the site and edit the camera positions (if they’re off by a little).

More will come, but for right now we really need help getting images.  So if you see one and can spare 5 seconds, please do!

Happy Hunting!

I don’t know why I didn’t think of this myself.  Pedophiles are a huge issue in our world.  Everyone wants them to get better and stop sleeping with little children, but everyone also wants to beat the crap out of them and also keep them 500 miles from other human beings.  So how do we solve this?

Of course the obvious solution is snipping their balls off.  It kills sexual drive, keeps kids safe, and might even get rid of that pencil-this molester mustache pedophiles always sport.  But you’d be wrong.  There’s an easy answer within our grasp that doesn’t involve the harming of any person.

We’ll give pedophiles asian women.

Some Asian women look like they are 12 even though they are 30.  Think about it.  The pedophile will have someone who looks like a kid, has a high voice and laughs like a kid, and yet is actually of LEGAL AGE.  It’s so simple.  All we need to do is find enough women like that who are willing to take the bullet for society and be a 12 year old for the rest of their life.

See that?  I built a dance floor.  In a day.  I took a shitload of pallets, a bunch of plywood, a shovel, screws and a saw and made it.  My mom helped a lot.  Molly and her dad helped too.  The friggin’ thing is HUGE, like 800 square feet.  My apartment is smaller.  I am sore.  The way I look at it, I could have rented a 15 by 15 foot dance floor for $400, or I could build it.  I built it and it’s more than just 15 by 15, it’s more like 36 by 30.

Honestly, I hope it doesn’t break at the wedding and the slight bumps in it don’t throw anyone off on the dance floor.  Be safe!  (Gotta finish the lighting this weekend).

The coloring on the ship is finished.  Phew!  Now I have to go do physical labor tomorrow, not going to be fun.  Plus, got an appointment later this month to finish it out with my compass rose on the inside of my arm.  That one will hurt the worst by far, what with all that nice, soft arm flesh in there.  Thanks Jason, your work is amazing.

Every so often I feel like I come up with some profound statement which, given to the right people, would change their lives.  The only problem is that I’m not famous.  You’ve done it — looked on-line for some famous quote which is only famous because some famous person said it.  Suddenly the words “I like tequila more than I like hookers” are awesome because some guy in a movie said it, or possibly Paul Newman said it (he didn’t, when he spoke only awesomeness came out, as well as good food).

That’s my point right there.  Famous people say ordinary things and they get written up on t-shirts.  Ordinary people say something witty at a bar which everyone laughs at and wishes they had said and yet it’s forgotten within minutes.  It would have made such a great t-shirt!

Here’s another example:

“Sometimes, no matter what the voices in your head say, you just have to let go.”  – Dalai Lama

Sounded profound right?  He might have said it?  I just wrote that!  Now instead of a thousand kale-smelling hippies quoting it, no one will.  I should have been born famous.

Alright, I get the fact that you probably ride bikes a lot, are a messenger of some sort, and can name every Tour de France winner for the last two decades, but come on.  If you’re not on a bike, going to a bike, or hobbling around on clip-in shoes, don’t get caught wearing that stupid hat.  You seriously look like Huey, Dewy and/or Louie.

It doesn’t protect you from the Sun, it doesn’t protect you from a fall, and unless you’re Lance Armstrong or Italian, please don’t wear them.