I love calling it rollerskating. It drives guys like this right up the wall. Er, I mean further up the wall. Somehow he thinks calling them roller blades is supposed to make them cool. I am beset by doubts on that score.
This reminds me of talking to that smelly guy in the second cubicle over at any office park job. You know the guy. He looks like Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons. He lists his interests on his Slack bio as geocaching and pornography. When he’s not cropdusting the office, he’s sitting at his desk covered with Star Wars figurines. He uses the word “canon” to describe muppets in space. You know, that guy. Anyway, it’s fun to walk by his cubicle and compliment him, isn’t? You say, “I love your Star Trek dolls,” and walk away quickly.
They’re ACTION FIGURES! It’s Star WARS, not Star TREK!
So anyway, here goes. Hey, Greg Mirzoyan, I love your roller skates.
The Greatest Recruiting Poster of All Time. OF ALL TIME
You would never have any trouble finding willing recruits if this was your recruiting poster. It doesn’t matter if you’re organizing an army or a Mah Jong tournament. That picture sells, baby. It has everything:
A machine gun mounted to the sidecar
Other than three hots and a cot, no man needs more. That’s the four macho food groups right there, in one recipe. I’d join. I don’t even know what it is, and I’d sign the enlistment papers. I mean, I certainly hope they’re good guys, and they are planning on machine-gunning only bad people who have it coming. However, if they’re planning on running over puppies and strafing orphanages, I’d have to pause for at least five seconds before signing up to think it over. But I’d sign up. A man’s only human.
If This Guy Challenges You to Strauss at Ten Paces, Say No
Of course this is a Russian video. It could only happen in Russia. It’s not that Americans aren’t loopy enough to play Strauss using .22 LR ammo. We got plenty of guns. It’s just that no one in America can play the violin properly anymore. Tipper Gore said there was too much sax and violins in the music industry, so everyone took up target shooting instead.
I wanted to go the carnival. Mother asked me why I wanted to go to a carnival. I said I did because what’s more fun than a carnival? Mother said pretty much everything was. I’ve never been to a carnival but the other children said you gotta go because it’s a carnival. They said it like a carnival was a burning bush or something.
Father relented and said we could go to the carnival. The carnival was on a Sunday. You’d think that would get us out of going to church that Sunday. You’d think wrong. Mom mashed down my hair with her own spit and elbow grease, picked the lint off my tweed coat, and made me put on by big brother’s shoes. We suffered through the sermon, same as Christ. Then, and only then, could we go to the carnival.
They had pony rides. Everything in this world is a cheat, I think.
Hmm. The video says this is the “Alps in 1934.” If I recall correctly, they had a spot of trouble in those parts not long after that. Can’t quite remember the details. Well, no matter. How much trouble could guys wearing leather shorts and armed with pitchforks cause? I wouldn’t be worried about their naval capabilities, either. I mean, what are they gonna do dressed like Sherlock Holmes on a raft.
Awesome wrestling moves at the 1:00 mark. Very wholesome. They look like nice fellows. Besides, as we’ve learned from the Simpsons, no one who speaks German could ever be evil.