I’m not sure if this is a Life Hack or a How-To video. I find both genres of Intertunnel video to be equally infuriating, so I think we should come up with a new category for this one. It’s a Slav-Hack. Or maybe a “Cyrillically-Challenged Instructional Video.” You could even call it a Borderline Sociopathic Promotional Tape, but for the love of god, don’t call it a lifehack. The only thing that this hacks is your ability to have fingers attached to your hands.
This is the mindset that begets the Elephant’s Foot. There’s something in the water they’re drinking over there, which by this time is probably all heavy water, that causes them to yell, “Hold my vodka and watch this.” Then they invade Afghanistan. Who’d be nuts enough to try that?
Anyways, to be honest, this experiment isn’t that risky. You’d only really be in danger if you’re made out of speaker cones or tin foil. Then again, you never know what the next fad will be with kids these days. Before you know it they’ll be sticking tiny speakers into their ears and pumping music directly into their heads. Hey, that concept sounds like it might just catch on. I should try to get a patent on that.
Sixteen-bit music makes everything better. You could have the soundtrack for this video playing at a funeral and it would make it into a party. Not that funerals aren’t already parties. I only attend funerals of people I don’t like. My wife wears a low-cut red mini dress, and I bring noisemakers and confetti. If you’re not the life of the funeral, you’re doing it wrong.
I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to use a 16-bit soundtrack to liven up all of my otherwise boring daily activities. I’ll have a soundtrack for when I chase down and assault the joggers who go by my house. For when the mailman finds the surprise I left him in the mailbox. In the unlikely event that I find a job, I’ll have a great soundtrack for shredding important documents and disrupting meetings with roundhouse kicks to the dork at the whiteboard.
Pffffftttt. Who am I kidding? Of course I do. While I’m waiting behind you and your 34 items in the 10 items or less lane, I daydream that the checkout clerk will be Charles Bronson. I wish every third person was Clint Eastwood. Admit it, you do too.
It’s just that we have better manners than douchebags. We’ve been trained from birth to mind our own business, and go along to get along. We’ve been instructed that the police are supposed to handle everything, and if we take matters in our own hands, we’re worse than criminals. I have my doubts on that score. There’s a certain point where acquiescence makes you a de facto accomplice. The world only has so many cheeks to turn, and then it’s time for decent people to say enough’s enough.