Because Science!

Well, I, apparently along with everybody else in the country, watched Sharknado. And I feel confident in saying that it was better than Sharktopus. After the disappointment I experienced with Piranhaconda, I feel like I deserved it (which is akin to treating myself to McDonald's after a bad experience at Burger King). There's already plans for a sequel.

I know what you're thinking. A sequel? How does one make a sequel about something that shouldn't have happened in the first place? Well, the short answer is it doesn't really matter. We live in a capitalistic society that is in high demand for low-level trash thanks in part to viewers like me. They're having a friendly competition to subtitle the next movie. They asked to tweet suggestions, but I'm no social media glutton (to be read in a sarcastic tone), so I don't even have a Twitter account. So I wrote it on Facebook instead. I called it Sharknado II: The Sharkening. I'd better freaking win.

(I don't see how I could lose)

Sharknado is an incredible movie. And I mean that in the sense that it lacks credibility. But what I find most incredible is that people are actually arguing about it. It's a movie whose sole purpose is to entertain (and make money, and I support both of those purposes wholeheartedly), so why does it need to be believable? It's not like it's a Hollywood drama like There Will Be Blood or Bio-Dome. It's a freakin' Syfy Original Movie.

I don't want to spoil anything for those of you who haven't seen it yet, so I'll spare the details. All I'll tell you is that it involves sharks and tornadoes and chainsaws.

(seriously)

Some dismiss the plot as being "lazy." Well, so are the majority of science fiction and horror flicks, and it boils down to two words and one recurring plothole; "Because science."

Any time a movie needs to establish "credibility" (insomuch as "credibility" can be established without an equally important film component, "suspension of disbelief"), it uses science, or more often pseudoscience, as a backdrop.

In Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives (pretty much any Friday the 13th, but this is just the best example), Jason is brought back from the dead when struck by lightning. Apparently, this was "inspired" by Frankenstein. Or, more likely, a lazy way of reviving a dying franchise.

(despite several attempts, the series just won't die)

Okay, so that was another bad movie. But how about George A. Romero's 1968 classic Night of the Living Dead? It has earned its reputation as a horror classic, but do you remember where the zombies came from? A spaceship crash-landed, and the radiation thereof brought the dead back to life.

The laziest science fiction and horror films don't even use pseudoscience. Take Leprechaun 4: In Space, for example. The movie is about an evil, murderous leprechaun (who you got to know and love in Leprechaun parts 1-3) who goes to space to marry a Martian princess. Never once do they tell you how he got there.

I like enjoy a good movie, but I love bad movies. Why does it matter why? That's part of what makes the movie so bad. But if you really need a reason, I'll give you one.

Because science.

Deseret Territory, Utah State of Mind

Utah is lacking in tourism. And why wouldn't we? We were formed as a territory by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to avoid religious persecution, so that one day we could do some persecuting of our own. I'm kidding (kind of), but outside of the history of the Church (which appeals to an admittedly low audience) what do we have to offer? We claim to have the greatest snow on Earth. Not that I would know. I don't really like snow and I have no interest in skiing. We're already essentially a theocratic separatist commune within a larger system of an increasingly authoritarian democracy. Don't believe me? Check out the alcohol laws. I don't know why we need them. They don't even apply to Mormons, who are, by commandment, teetotalers. It's just theocratic nonsense. Don't get me wrong, I hold no grudge against the Church. I still consider myself one of them (just a relatively crappy one). I still can't think of a good enough slogan, but it's between these two;

Utah: At Least We're Not North Dakota

(pay close attention, or you'll miss it)

This is the Place (At Least Until We Go Back to Independence, Missouri)

Politics: Overwhelmingly Republican. As though it's any surprise. Even in 2008, 62.5% of Utah voted for John McCain. McCain didn't even do that well in his home state of Arizona. And in 2012, when Republican Mormon Mitt Romney ran, he gathered 72.69% of the vote. I won't even tell you how he did in Massachusetts. Strangely, Mitt Romney was the preferred candidate even over fellow Republican Mormon, the rational, moderate Jon Huntsman, Jr.

Religion: A large majority of Utah's population are Mormon, although not all of them are active. 59% of the population are unlikable Mormons, 41% are unlikable anti-Mormons, 2% are non-denominational, and 1% are logical, with a 3% margin of error.

(pictured; someone with nothing better to do)

Race and ancestory: Around 80% of the state of Utah are white/Caucasian (roughly 65% of them are part of the Aryan race). There is also a strong latino/Hispanic population in second at about 10%, Pacific Islanders coming in the third at 6%, 2% American Indian/Native American, 2% Asian, with about five families of African Americans living throughout the state.

Sports: Utah is home of the NBA basketball team the Jazz, the second most popular professional basketball team in Utah. Formed in 1974 in New Orleans, the team made the exodus north due to poor local support and investors. The move proved to displease the people pf New Orleans, who felt that keeping the name "the Jazz" was in poor taste, citing a metaphor for the contraband of Jazz music from its cultural roots to a state that didn't have any music outside of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and the then-popular Osmonds. The franchise gained popularity with the arrival of John Stockton and Karl Malone, who led them to the NBA finals in 1997 and 1998 (a fact they still flaunt), though they were defeated both times by Michael Jordan (and the Chicago Bulls).

Utah is also home to the "Holy War," a rivalry between the University of Utah and Brigham Young University, most famously between their football programs. Though they have shared heated moments on and off the field, Ute fans and Cougar fans both agree; Utah State University Aggie fans are the worst.

(okay, so their cheerleaders are hotter than ours. but in BYU's defense, it's not easy to dance in a burqa)

Symbols: Utah, like every other state, has its state bird (California Gull, larus californicus, "sky roaches"), state motto ("Industry"), state nickname ("The Beehive State," which is the meaning of Deseret), and even our own state snack (Jell-O). I have a couple of suggestions to add;

state beverage: Diet Coke, drank by chubby housewives statewide (second choice, Mountain Dew, the more delicious option, is drank en masse by the local tools, douche bags, and bros).

state condiment: fry sauce. A simple mixture of ketchup and mayonnaise (though there are several variants and additions) used mainly for French fries.

So, there you have it. It may not be much, but it's home, and despite my best efforts, I still love it.

(I... Utah?.. Utah)

The Only Rights a Chicken Have are Extra Crispy or Original Recipe

I tried the new turkey burger at Burger King. I did so because I remember getting turkey patties in Brazil and enjoying them. Then, I remembered I bought the turkey patties because I didn't like their beef patties. Then, I remembered one of my earliest concerns in Brazil was eating horse. I have a mild phobia of horses. It may have something to do with my somewhat irrational fear of being kicked or trampled, or perhaps it's mostly penis envy. And then, just recently, Burger King admitted to using horse meat (or possibly donkey meat) in their "beef" patties. So, this begs the question; why the hell wasn't I eating horse?

I would make a miserable cowboy. I've ridden on a horse before once at Scout Camp. I never really cared for Scout Camp, and I didn't really care much for that horse, either. I'd be a terrible cowboy. I thank God I never had to make that decision.

(yeah, that's more my style)

So, what's the big deal about eating horse anyway? Different cultures around the world do it. What, are you afraid of a little cultural variety, you xenophobe? It's not like we're feeding you people.

(not yet, we're not)

But there's a group of people who can't discern the difference between people and animals. We call them vegans (among other offensive slurs). Unclench your butt-cheeks, vegans and vegetarians, I'm about to make some gross generalizations, as you have so willingly done for me and my friends.

Look, I like animals. I love dogs. I like lizards. I like some cats and rodents. But I find something wrong with a culture that gives more value to animals than to human life. These people won't eat anything that comes from an animal or use any product tested on animals. Apparently, human beings have been eating the wrong thing... for millions of years! Thanks, vegans! Truly, you are the future. And vegans are somehow increasing in popularity. Just a few celebrity vegans include Mike Tyson, Ted Danson, Bill Clinton (post-heart surgery), and Eric Roberts (after Sharktopus, I thought he could do no wrong). Oh, yeah. And Russell Brand. So now you have another reason to hate him.

(as if you really needed another reason)

But that's not where my issues end. I'm on ranting roll, so let me air my grievances. Vegans also have a strong tie with PETA (obviously) and anti-WASP feminism (actually, also pretty obvious). I'll get to my anti-PETA rant in a moment, let me first address the feminists.

I actually consider myself a bit of a feminist. I don't see "man's work" or "woman's work," just "work that needs done." If you want to be businesswoman, go for it. If you don't want to get married and have kids, then don't. If you want to be a bouncer at a nudie bar, more power to you, Butch. I don't care, and I absolutely think that you should receive equal pay, as long as the job is being done. I have two main issues with feminists;

First, yes, men are greedy perverts. But don't address the bad without addressing the good. Men made nuclear weapons, founded religion, and hunted several defenseless animals to extinction. We also developed vaccines and medications, discovered lands, and made the freaking lightbulb (man also stole that idea from another man, but that's another story). Don't forget, men also played a role in making you.

(you're welcome)

Second, don't claim to be a pro-choice feminist and then scorn other women who decide to lead a different life than you do. Just because you want to be an unwed careerist doesn't mean all women want that. Some women actually want to be mothers. And that's their choice. And they can have as many babies as they want. They should be responsible, but it's their right to conceive. I thought you were all about individualism. God knows I myself wouldn't want to do that. I'm glad to be a man. Periods sound awful, pregnancy sounds incredibly inconvenient, and giving birth sounds like pure horror.

(pictured; my fear of childbirth)

Now, onto PETA. PETA is provably evil. I can already hear the animal activists collectively groan "But we need an organization to give voice to the voiceless!" We already have one. It's called the Humane Society. They're the good guys in all of this. Now, let me tell you PETA is evil;

1) Their overall goal is "total animal liberation." That means no pets (unless you're a member of PETA, in which case they're called "animal companions"). That also means no meat, no milk, no leather (sounding familiar, vegans?), no zoos, no circuses, no hunting nor fishing, not even service animals including seeing-eye dogs. I hope PETA founder Ingrid Newkirk is blinded by a rabid parakeet. Then again, if she's not willing to get a seeing-eye dog, she could always get Russell Brand to guide her around on a leash.

(down boy! down!)

2) Despite their incessant bitching about "unethical" treatment of animals, in 2005, they put over 90% of the animals they collected to death. Talk about hypocrisy.

3) They donate thousands of dollars to eco-terrorists, including Earth Liberation Front and Animal Liberation Front, responsible for arson, firebombs, and death threats.

4) They give animals equal or more value than humans. I'm not saying there's no such thing as animal abuse. Thanks to the Humane Society, we're working on ending that. But to draw comparisons between slaughterhouses and the Holocaust is to devalue the lives of millions of innocent lives lost at the hands of Nazi Germany. No pig or cow has ever made the same contributions to the world that any human being has.

5) They're a bunch of propagandists. They target children with anti-meat and anti-milk propaganda. One piece of PETA literature is called "Your Mommy Kills Animals!" Charming. And then they get beautiful women to sponsor them in blatantly sexual advertisements. Isn't it ironic that while opposing animal exploitation, they constantly exploit humans?

(please! for Heaven's sake! please, stop exploiting humans!)

Dear Taylor Swift,

You probably don't know me. That's okay, I don't really know you, either. And I don't think you want to know me; I've heard from a handful of reliable sources that I'm a bit of an asshole. But I've noticed something - many of them tell me this after asking for my advice. So that begs the question, am I an asshole, or just painfully honest?

(much like my hero, "Painfully Honest Abe")

Awhile ago, I had a short stint at college. I would have stayed there longer, but one problem is that I put little effort into my studies - I just stopped caring. Another problem is that I attended BYU-Idaho. But I digress. I had a public speaking class, which despite my poor attendance record, I actually enjoyed. For the final (which I actually attended!), we were put into groups and given the task of assigning an award for some of our classmates. I don't remember much beyond the award I was given; The King of Blunt Statements. Has a nice ring to it, yes? I was ecstatic. After being called things like dick, douche bag, and even douche canoe, I finally had an appropriate title. I'm sure I'd offended some of the people in my class, especially when I kind of defended child molesters (HOLD ON, LET ME TELL THE STORY!).

A girl had prepared a well-planned, but grossly inhumane lecture on child molesters. In her closing statement, she said "if it were up to me, I'd have all child molesters castrated." So, ever the upstanding citizen, I raised my hand and voiced my opinion, telling her (with the disclaimer, "I don't support child molesters") how wrong it was to use an argument like that during a lecture. She jumped to point out that it was "just her opinion." I reminded her it was supposed to be a persuasive speech, not a damning one.

So, child molesters or no, I am a blunt person. And I have some advice for you.

Let me begin by telling you that you are an attractive, talented person. But you already know that. And that's one of your flaws. You're too self-aware. You've got to

1) stop playing the victim. Kanye West is a provable asshole. Not blunt, just an ass. What Kanye West did to you at the 2009 MTV Music Video Awards is evidence of that. So, what did you do? You wrote a decent song called "Innocent." But here's the thing; you're not all that innocent.

(for future reference, sheer tops don't exactly scream "innocence")

So, the next piece of advice I have for you is to

2) drop the "good girl" act. No one's buying it anymore. You've dated John Mayer and a Kennedy. You're not fooling anybody, except for maybe my manager at work.

("Taylor Alison Swift is a saint!")

John Mayer is a semi-talented, funny guy who seems to date as many women as it takes to prove his heterosexuality. And Conor Kennedy? Look at his family. John and Robert allegedly both slept with Marilyn Monroe. And Uncle Ted? Well, let's just say you're lucky you got out of that alive. But you've had many relationships (and good for you, you've got something on little ol' virginal me), and that kind of leads into the next step. You really oughtta

3) quit bitching about your personal relationships. This is showbiz, baby. People get married and divorced a week later. If you don't want people to make fun of your love life, then stop writing songs about your love life. You are now part of a glitzy, glamorous Hollywood profile. People are always gonna show interest in your love life (we call these creeps "paparazzi," but we're all part of the problem - if we would stop buying this shit, they would be out of a job, and then they would just be called voyeurists). But you keep drawing more attention to your love life with your songs. I personally have a hard time discerning which song is about which ex-boyfriend. And it's really hard for me to feel sorry for you when you say "I knew you were trouble when you walked in" (which, I assume, is followed by "so I just knew it would make a great song").

But if you must continue writing songs about your love life,

4) date me. I'm the least you could do. I promise to lick your boots, worship the ground you walk on, and be pussy-whipped in general. And if things don't work out, you could write a great song about me called "Jackass," "Fatass," or "Asshole." I dunno, something about me being an ass.

(this would also make a great song)

Holiday Inn, Holiday Out

Don't you just love the holidays?

I sure don't.

Don't get me wrong. I like celebrating the New Year. I love Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July. And, despite my mixed emotions, I even enjoy Christmas. And then we've got Halloween, Valentine's Day, birthdays (which happen every day), not to mention all the other federal, public, and religious holidays. But do you ever really need an excuse to celebrate? I mean, every day you wake up is a day you're still alive. Isn't that something worth celebrating?

There are way too many holidays. A lot of them are celebrated without even knowing why. Can anybody tell me why we celebrate St. Patrick's Day? (Just to be clear, I'm using the term "we" loosely; I don't celebrate it. Coming from Anglo-Nordic stock, I'm about 3.2% Irish, which is the same as the alcohol content in the state of Utah, which any of my drinking friends will tell you is no reason to celebrate.) It's about the arrival of Christianity in Ireland and, apparently, the expulsion of the snakes. Makes sense to me. I imagine the snakes thought "Christianity? God, no! From the earliest passages of scripture, we're associated with Lucifer."

("That'ssssssss not how we ssssssssound!")

How about Cinco de Mayo? It ain't the Mexican Independence Day. It's a celebration of Mexico's victory over France, and it's more widely celebrated in the United States than in Mexico. Is this because of American ignorance and bravado, or because of our well-documented hatred of the French? The answer is probably both.

If I had things my way (and believe me, you want me to have things my way), I'd solve the holiday crisis. And I'd do it the following ways;

1) Make the Fourth of July a national holiday. For constitutional reasons, the United States doesn't have conventional national holidays, in that there are no days in which all businesses are closed. But it seems ironic that we can't celebrate the birth of a nation on a national scale.

(no, not that Birth of a Nation)

2) Give Christmas back to the pagans. It's only fair, Christians. You took it from them, now give it back. And I'm sure they'll let you celebrate their holiday if you're nice. And in turn, they'll let you have Easter.

(be nice to the pagans - Nicolas Cage had to learn that the hard way)

3) Valoween; the amalgamated Valentine's Day and Halloween. I believe these two holidays are already the same thing; children celebrate by giving each other candy, adults celebrate by dressing like sluts.

(Halloween costume, or sexy Valentine's Day roleplay?)

I know that on a traditional scale, that one celebrates love and the other celebrates fear, but really, those are the same feelings, too. Anybody who contends otherwise has never been in love (or at least lustfully infatuated). And this is the perfect opportunity for people who bitch and bicker about "Single Awareness Day" to go door-to-door asking for sex. Trick... or treat?

(definitely both)

4) There will be a "Hangover Day" to be celebrated twice a year; on New Year's Day (to accommodate for New Year's Eve) and every Monday after the Super Bowl. You're welcome. I was considering making it three times a year, for an Independence Day accommodation, but let's be sensible - you probably shouldn't be drinking and lighting fireworks anyway.

(pictured; the best, scientifically-proven cure for a hangover)

5) Combine all the unnecessary, idiotic holidays - Arbor Day, Labor Day, April Fools' Day, etc. - into one day called "Vacation Day." This will be celebrated every first second Monday in September. This gives children a breath of relief from "back-to-school" stress, and it gives adults another excuse to drink.

(not like you really need an excuse)

6) Thanksgiving shall remain as is. Black Friday shall become Black Saturday, or "Black Sabbath." (Thanksgiving is about eating and relaxing, not Christmas preparation).

(pictured; gifts for next year's Black Friday)

That's about ten holidays a year. If that's not enough for you, you don't have enough reasons to celebrate.

Return of the Revenge: The Sequeling

It was ten years after Night of the Living Dead that George A. Romero made Dawn of the Dead. Fifteen years passed from Escape from New York until we saw Snake Plissken Escape from L.A. And it took 19 years for Indiana Jones to discover the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, although that particular discovery would have been best left undiscovered. The point is, sometimes it takes way too long to make a sequel.

But I'm back. And bitchier and more catty than ever. If any of you even care any more.

To those of you reading this, I have just a few questions I'd like to ask you. They're questions I ask anybody I care to know better. None of the cordial, predictable "favorite bands" or "favorite movies" horse crap I ask everybody when we initially meet. These are True Questions of the Soul;

1) Let's imagine you were approached by a wealthy individual of your same gender. Said person offers you money for just one night of sex. What's the least amount of money for which you would agree to this proposition?

To those men who are wondering who's pitching and who's catching, you're already thinking way too much about this. But I'll play along; think of the minimum amount you'd be willing to accept for each.

If you're answer is free, you're probably gay (good for you!).

If you're answer is anything less than $1,000, you're a whore (good for you!).

If you're answer is anywhere from $1,001 and $10,000, you're greedy (and I ain't judgin').

If you're answer is anywhere from $10,001 to $25,000, you're probably desperate.

If you're answer is $one million, congratulations, you're a douche.

If you'd never do it, ever, then you're probably lying.

If you said you'd be willing to do it for free, so long as the homophobic Christian right had to watch, good for you; you're so edgy and progressive and probably gay!

The moral? Everybody's got a price.

(something I learned from Ted DiBiase as a child)

2) Answer the following;

Do you believe in God?

 _Yes _No _Maybe

Do you believe in ghosts, zombies, etc.? 

_Yes _No _Maybe

Would the existence of ghosts or zombies prove or disprove the existence of God? 

_Prove _Disprove _Neither

This reveals quite a bit about your religious beliefs. For example;

If you answered Yes/Yes/Prove, you're a dogmatist.

If you answered Maybe/Maybe/Neither, you're the worst kind of agnostic.
If you answered No/Yes/Disprove, you're a hypocrite (and probably Bill Maher).

("I also believe in alternative medicine.")

3) Assume you were found guilty of treason, you will be put to death in two days. However, they let you choose your last meal and your method of execution. What would be your last meal and how would you be killed?

This serves no purpose besides my own twisted amusement. My own answer is brats, sauerkraut, Buffalo wings, and an ice cold Coca-Cola. I would then be killed by a firing squad.

(or by beheading, if it can be done by this guy)

4) Think carefully about this one. If you could have any superpower, what would it be, what would be your alias, and would be a hero or a villain?

I already know my answer. I would have the power of exact change; every time I reach into my wallet, I have the exact amount of money that I need. I would call myself "Exacto". It's the perfect superpower. Going to the movies? Getting some popcorn, maybe? Pow! Buying a new car? Zap! Hey, Mr. Rapist, what would it take for you to not go through with this? Bam! And don't worry about the economy; it all comes from illegal activity. You see, my pocket is only as deep as the criminal activity in this country. The moment there is no money illegally changing hands is the moment I go broke. So, that would make me a hero, wouldn't it? And it's probably not a power I should be calling attention to, but honestly - if I have that power, I'm going to use the hell out of it. And once I run out of street criminals and mob bosses, I'll have a whole new stack of money to use from government officials.

(and those guys have the most dirty money of all)

5) This one is a little controversial; if you had to go back in time to assassinate or attempt to assassinate one of the following, who would it be? Your choices are;

A) Che Guevara

B) Ronald Reagan

C) Both

If your answer is A, you lean conservative or at least don't buy into that martyrdom crap.

If your answer is B, you lean liberal or you're obsessed with Jodie Foster.

If your answer is C, you're rational or psychotic (sorry, there's really no middle ground here).

(¡Viva el Cheagan!)

Now that you've answered these questions, I'll get back to writing, and I'll try to have another sequel for you again soon.

Advent of Angst #5: Too Soon?

Christmas is coming. At least that's what the radio has been telling me for the past two weeks. And here I am thinking Halloween was the next holiday!

When I was younger, I remember scoffing whenever people told me Christmas was getting earlier and earlier. I was all like, "hey, man, it's almost Thanksgiving! Don't be such a Scrooge!" I should also probably mention that when I was a kid, I started my Christmas list some time around the Fourth of July. This year, I didn't start until late September, and only because the radio station at work kept dropping hints by playing "Welcome, Christmas" from How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

Fine, I'll take your word for it. Christmas is coming. What does that mean to me? It's Utah and it's not even snowing yet. I can start feeling Christmas-y after the first snowfall (which, to be honest, is usually right after Halloween in Utah).You want me to feel jolly? I don't know that I've been a particularly good boy this year. But don't rule anything out yet. Here's what we do; kidnap Santa Claus. We can hold him hostage until our demands our met. It's called "strategy."

Either that, or you can contribute to the "Please Don't Hurt Santy Claus Fund" by donating one of the following;

CHRISTMAS LIST

PLEASE DON'T HURT SANTY CLAUS FUND

1) Communist Paraphernalia

Let me clarify; I am not now, nor will I ever be, a card-carrying member of the Communist Party. I am a  registered Republican, which is about as far from Communism as one can be. That being said, I am mildly obsessed with it. The Soviet Union, the Cold War, McCarthyism. Get me whatever; shirts, hats, books (fictional is acceptable, but I prefer historical). If you can get me a picture of Fidel Castro wearing a Che shirt (signed by Fidel himself), that would be the best Christmas present ever. Screw your Christmas shoes.

(Stalin; the Jesus of Russia)

2) Really Bad Horror/Sci-Fi Movies

I love 'em. I already own the Leprechaun series, the Critters series, the Tremors series, and both Troll movies, but I want more. You can never have a complete collection of bad movies when more and more are coming out every year (Age of Hobbits, anyone? yes, it sounds as though somebody's capitalizing on the upcoming Hobbit film, and God bless capitalism!). I'm hoping to add the Robocop series, the Highlander series, some Japanese monster movies, and maybe some Rob Zombie and Ed Wood films to my collection.

(if you send me Howard the Duck or The Adventures of Pluto Nash, I will send them back, and I can't promise Santa won't be harmed)

3) An Xbox 360 and Dark Souls
Dark Souls is supposed to be one of the hardest and addictive games ever. Like a creepier, more difficult Skyrim. And I must have it.

(you get to fight monsters like WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?)

I'm sure there's more, but I don't want to list all of them. Be creative. I asked for the T-Mobile girl for my birthday last year, and I never got her. That would be just as good as the aforementioned "Castro wearing Che" picture.

(in all her Canadian glory)

Naughty. Nice. You make the list, big fella. But think of your own well-being.

And that, kids, is called extortion. And now you know.

The Master Debator

The story so far: the GOP has pitted drab millionaire Mitt Romney against the well-spoken, poorly-advised incumbent President Barack Obama. Either side seems convinced that they will lose, and have thus resorted to good ol' fashioned smear tactics. Yes, because the way you get things done in this country by finger-pointing and name-calling. Maybe I would be more excited if I believed a word either of them said.

You how to make people interested in the Presidential debates? Get somebody who knows what he's doing; the ultimate orator, the Ultimate Warrior!

For those of you who don't know or otherwise don't care, the Ultimate Warrior was professional wrestler whose popularity rivaled that of Hulk Hogan in the early '90s. We're talking about a man so dedicated to his character, he ended up changing his name to Warrior. The face-painted, muscular madman was known to be crazy in the ring, and kind of a douche outside the ring. But one cannot argue that the man has wicked awesome speeches (just watch, it has to be seen to be understood).

Yeah! Unify the Hulkamaniacs with the little Warriors! Or, to apply it to modern times, we must set aside our differences, whether we somehow still manage to defend Obamanomics or if we are the bugnutty Tea Party loyalists. I think the speeches would be so much better if the candidates had to yell their answers instead of talk their way out of them.

And, at the end of each debate, we'll play something epic, letting people know, "yeah, it's the end of the world. So what? You can either blame it on other people or embrace it."

Warrior has also been on CSPAN. Yes, he is a bit of a conservative jerk. But he also paints! No truly evil man can also make art, can they? With the exception, of course, of John Wayne Gacy, Charles Manson, and Adolf Hitler.

(no truly evil man could be so inspirational, either!)

You know you want to see it as badly I do. When it comes to the debates, there would be none better. The man, the myth, the legend; the Ultimate Warrior.

Apologies to H.G. Wells

Untrue Life Stories: Exaggerated Accounts from Unreal Situations, part two

Brent was feeling nauseous as he exited his 1992 Subaru Legacy, lovingly referred as his "Shatmobile." Perhaps it was was the drive over - he'd gotten lost in Salt Lake City, the air conditioner wasn't working, and he discovered he had twice past his destination, plus the fact that he didn't really like driving to begin with. Or perhaps it was the homemade eggnog he brought from home (which may or may not have been laced with vodka to calm his nerves). In either case, after he untactfully vomited in the bushes, he felt a bit better.

He was in Salt Lake to visit his friend and former high school history teacher, Stan Andrus. Stan was lovingly referred to as "Satan" by students. Perhaps it was his facial hair and "proud apostate" attitude. In either case, he was well-liked by his students, and if you weren't an idiot, he tended to like you, too.

Stan opened the door. "Watering the plants?"

Brent wiped the remaining bile from his uncouth face and put a piece of gum in his mouth. "Sorry, man. I hate Salt Lake. That is to say, I'd like it a lot more if I had a GPS in the old Shatmobile."

"It's fine," said Stan, taking a pipe out of his coat sleeve. "But you're a little early."

"How the hell did I manage that?" Brent asked, looking at his cellphone. "Wasn't it supposed to start twenty minutes ago?"

"We had to reschedule for later on," Stan explained. "I was just making some last-minute... preparations."

Stan had invited a group of friends and colleagues over for a "special announcement." Brent figured he'd use this as a chance to improve his guerrilla filmmaking. Why he felt he needed to improve on holding a camera and pointing it at stuff, I don't quite understand.

"Ah, shit, dude. I'm sorry. I can come back later?" Brent apologized.

Stan puffed his pipe and set it on the windowsill. "No, it's alright. I can give you a sneak preview."

Brent followed Stan inside. "So, where's Annie? And how early am I?"

Stan motioned for Brent to enter a room. "Annie's picking up some party supplies. You're a little under an hour early."

There in the room was what looked like an bike.

"Dude, is this your way of telling me I need to lose weight?" Brent asked. "I get it. I'm chubby."

Stan shot Brent the look of Satan, smiling slightly. "This isn't a bicycle. This is a time machine." Stan went on to say that he had discovered the secret to time travel while reading The God Delusion.

"But I don't get it," Brent sighed. "What does Richard Dawkins know about time travel?"

"It's not what he says," said Stan. "It's what he doesn't say."

Brent shook his head in agitated contemplation. "Next you're going to tell me the equation that inspired this revelation was 2 + 2 = 4."

Stan cocked his head, confused. "What?"

Again, Brent shook his head. "Never mind. Just tell me how it works."

After ten minutes of explanation, Brent still didn't understand, but pretended as though he did.

"Riveting," Brent said, stroking his chin. "Have you tried it out?"

"Just briefly," Stan said. "I didn't work up the gumption to go too far, but I did see the pioneers entering the Utah valley, and let me just say; it was kind of disappointing."

"I'll bet," said Brent. "So... you gonna let me give this a shot?"

Stan stroked his goatee in contemplation. "Well," he began, "I wasn't going to let anybody attempt this until after the presentation. But I suppose we've got time."

"Nothing but!" exclaimed Brent. "So, how does it work?"

Stan just looked at Brent. "Were you not paying attention this whole time?"

Brent shifted in his seat. "I kind of zonked out. I did it a lot in class, too."

Stan sighed. "Just get on and pedal until you get where you want to go. The odometer measure the time. You pedal forward to go forward, back to go back. Pretty simple."

"Is that seriously what you said the first time?" Brent asked. "Man, I really need to work on my attention span."

Brent sat in the seat a moment. "I must confess, I never took the time to learn how to ride a bike. Do I need to go outside or something?"

Stan smiled. "You won't need roads where you're going."

Brent started backpedaling. "Oh. I see. It's a stationary bike. Also, nice Back to the Future reference. But really, I thought an H.G. Wells reference would be more appropriate. Like The Island of Dr. Moreau."

When Brent looked up, he saw that he was moving backwards in time.

A moment passed, and Brent was back in the room with Stan.

After a moment, Brent spoke. "Before tonight I had the theory that if time travel were possible, we would know about it in the past, my logic being that if people in the future made an attempt to come back to the past, it would alter their past, and therefor our future. That was theory number one. However," Brent paused for dramatic effect, "I inadvertently put my other theory into effect tonight. I rationalized that if one could hypothetically change the past - stop the Kennedy assassination, convince Hitler's mom to get an abortion, whatever - that the past has already been changed, and we can do nothing to change that. Meaning; if I was the one stood in the grassy knoll and assassinated him myself, then it has become part of history. Do you know what I'm saying?"

Stan looked at Brent, his eyes widened. "What did you do?"

Brent sighed. "I may have accidentally convinced Mitt Romney to run for President."

Brent went on to say that he went back in time to the 2002 Winter Olympics ("just to see what the big deal was all about"). He said that he had a brief run-in with pre-Governor Romney and spoke of his admiration for him.

"You have to understand," Brent cried. "This was before the Tea Party. All Romney had to do at this point was convince people that Mormons weren't technically a cult. He was still pretty gay-friendly, pro-choice-friendly, all-around user-friendly. And in my brief conversation with him, I may have said something about him making a good President. I suppose I should be happy that I forgot my camera here. Now nobody knows who  to blame."

Stan somberly bowed his head. "What have I created?"

Brent scratched his head. "Well, you know... nobody needs to know."

"What do you mean?" Stan asked. "I told everybody to meet at my house for a special presentation."

"I thought of this," said Brent. "I didn't want to risk the paradox of running into myself at the Salt Lake Olympics, that whole paradox. So, I went further back in time and..."

Brent pulled a video tape from his pocket.

"What is that?" Stan asked. "I thought you said you left your camera."

"I did," Brent replied. "But I went back to 1978 and got this; a bootleg copy of The Star Wars Holiday Special."

Stan smiled. "Now that - is a special presentation!"

Brent smiled back. "You got a VCR? I'll record everybody's reaction!"

Not Another Jimmy Eat World Song

I'm admittedly a bit of a pessimist. So what? I've already explained my feelings on the subject before, so I shouldn't have to do it again. But pessimist or not, you've gotta admit harsh reality seems more beneficial than the self-indulgent, self-aware optimism of Jimmy Eat World's 2001 song, "The Middle." Just listen to the overly-upbeat lyrics;

Hey, don't write yourself off yet

It's only in your head you feel left out/Or looked down on

Just try your best/Try everything you can

And don't you worry what they tell themselves/When you're away

On top of being sickeningly optimistic, it's also incredibly assumptive. "Don't you worry what they tell themselves when you're away." Wait, what are they saying about me? Is it something bad? Oh God, I knew it was something bad! I'm gonna go home and scream into my pillow and threaten to cut myself (I'll never actually do it because I don't like pain and the sight of blood makes me nauseous, but I'll threaten to do it, gosh darn it!). Jimmy Eat World is the happiest emo band ever.

(they look so nice, and that is their ultimate downfall. bands should look cooler than that)

Do we have anything to counter that super-sweet crap? Something a little bitter just to get that awful taste out of our mouths?

Ah, there it is.

The 2007 horror film The Mist is just about the most awesomely depressing movie ever. It starts out with a man and his boy going to the grocery store the morning after a violent thunderstorm. As they're shopping, a man rushes into the store with a bloody nose, warning the people of creatures in the mist. The mist encases them, and they are attacked by Lovecraftian monsters, some of which look like this;

Or this;

This one unlikable religious lady believes this is the sign of the Armageddon and slowly turns the grocery store into her own theocratic militarism. Meanwhile, this kid dies;

(no, that is not Malachai from Children of the Corn)

Poor boy just wanted to be hero by running out into the mist and turning the backup generators on.

So, under this religious zealot's rule (kind of like sharia law, only a little more strict), things become very uneasy. They "sacrifice" a soldier they hold responsible for the catastrophe. You see, the local military base was experimenting with looking into other dimensions, but somehow the scientists opened another dimension (I'm assuming the one containing the Cthulhu mythos). So clearly, the young private was to blame.

After a grocery store clerk finally kills the Jesus freak (hey, you'd have wanted her dead too, if you'd ever seen the movie), they make a break for it, and five survivors make it to the car; the man and his son, an attractive teacher (and potential love interest, assuming things didn't work out with their respective spouses, or if they were eaten), and an elderly couple. They drive and drive and drive until they run out of gas. SPOILER ALERT. The man decides, rather than the inevitable death by starvation or eventual attack of one of the mist monsters, to kill themselves. But there are five survivors and only four bullets. So, ever the hero, he uses the bullets on the others and awaits his impending doom. He exits the car, sobbing and mourning the death of his son and friends, firing empty rounds into his mouth.

Just then, the mist clears and the military arrives.

End film.

(that is the face of a man who knows how badly he's screwed up)

Bahahahaha!

You know, as sad as the end of that movie is, it's got me thinking about my own impending doom. No, I'm talking about the Rapture; that was supposed to have already happened (three or four times now, isn't it?). And I mean no disrespect to Mr. Harold Camping. The man is in his 90's, he's allowed to be wrong. He probably thinks Ronald Reagan is still in office. But who's to say he's wrong? If anything, this just proves what I thought all along; none of us made God's cut.

No, what I'm talking about is the Decepticons' invasion of Earth. So I'd like to take a moment to make a proposition for Megatron.

(noticeably missing from the 2012 Republican National Convention)

Look, buddy. I understand your distaste for human life. I share it with you. But not all of us are so bad. I would like to make a bargain to spare the life of my friends and family. In exchange for the safety and protection of myself and my family and friends, I will give you the names of five people for your five primary attacks, that if you hunt them down first, you will be greeted as a hero.

1) Glenn Beck

Glenn Beck is a conservative libertarian...

(oh, I'm sorry - conservative "libertarian")

Anyways, he's a political commentator and doomsayer whose predictions of the Apocalypse rival those of Harold Camping. He's the self-proclaimed voice of the people, and who dislikes people more than you? You know what must be done.

2) Mitt Romney

Mitt Romney lacks a backbone. I know you must hate that. He panders to each and every audience, so expect him to try and pander to you. But don't be fooled.

3) Fred Phelps

Pastor Fred Phelps of the Westboro Baptist Church hates everybody, too. But he claims that God loves him. Well, you're his god now! Make an example of him.

(but please, go easy on him - I don't think he even knows where he is most of the time)

4) Michael Bay

You've already got a bone to pick with Mr. Bay. He already destroyed your Transformers series and is about to destroy another beloved '80s franchise, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, by making the ninja turtles an alien race! You cannot let this happen.

("what's it matter? you guys are just gonna pay to see my crap anyways.")

5) Chad Kroeger

The frontman of the Canadian "rock" group Nickelback, the Dane Cook of rock bands. In fact, I'm pretty sure Dane Cook and Chad Kroeger are the same person.

You'd better kill them both just to be safe.

I'll be waiting, Megatron.