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Category: Russia

Angular Banjos Sound Good To Me

Angular Banjos Sound Good To Me

Let me hear your balalaikas ringing out.

You know, for only having three strings he’s really making a lot of noise. Whether that’s a good thing or not is all a matter of opinion. He needs to work on giving his music any sort of structure or direction or tonality, but I’ll be darned if he isn’t trying. Some would even say he’s — shredding. I don’t particularly like that word: shredding. It evokes images of shirtless men pretending they know how to play the guitar because they can play one scale really fast. But I’ll be darned if he isn’t shredding all over that ridiculous excuse for an instrument. He may only have three stings and a finite amount of notes, but one way or another he’s going to play them all.

SpongeBob Isn’t Going To Take Your Crap, Dude

SpongeBob Isn’t Going To Take Your Crap, Dude

When you get your ass handed to you by SpongeBob and Mickey Mouse you really need to rethink you life choices.

It’s sort of like an intervention, but with more blood and pummeling and less talking about your feelings. The universe is telling you to stop hitting golf balls off the top of your dreary apartment complex into the equally dreary kindergarten next door. It may have seemed like a good idea at the time, but the bad karma associated with assaulting toddlers with sporting equipment is comparable to a minor war crime. If this guy doesn’t stop whatever it is he’s doing to upset the universe, Felix the Cat is going to rise from the nether and blow off his kneecaps with a 12 gauge.

God help him if Tweety Bird gets involved; they’ll be finding bits of him on the side of the highway for the next decade.

(Many thanks to the one and only Charles Schneider for sending this along.)

Now That’s What I Call Thinking On Your Feet

Now That’s What I Call Thinking On Your Feet

I’m beginning to think that there’s something massively wrong with Russia and everyone in it. Every single video coming out of Russia has someone getting set on fire, exploding, falling off of a building, wrecking their car, getting beaten, being chased by animals, getting stabbed, or worse — doing parkour.

I really can’t stand parkour. Watching parkour is a vivisection of the soul. It’s like going to an elementary school recorder concert that your kid isn’t in. It’s like having to sit through Bartok and pretend to like it. Every time I see a video with the little Cyrillic letters at the top I have a panic attack. This is why both Napoleon and Hitler invaded Russia. They just wanted them to stop doing so much damn parkour. There are things in life other than parkour, you lanky weirdos.

I’ll give Russia some credit — at least they’re not Japan.

[Many thanks to the indispensable Charles Schneider for sending this one along]

Hey Fellas, Hold My Boдka And Watch This

Hey Fellas, Hold My Boдka And Watch This

Too much vodka and not enough crushing capitalism. If it was sixty years ago in the USSR they’d all be sent off to Siberia to mine coal out of the frozen tundra using a tin spoon.

If it was sixty years ago in America I’d be driving around in a Cadillac the size of Delaware. I’d be wearing a chrome suit, because Eisenhower is president and I’ll do whatever I damn well want. I’d be in love with a girl named Barbara, and we’d go out for milk shakes on the weekends. Afterwards, I’d drive my four-wheeled luxury cruise liner to a nice secluded spot and we’d listen to Miles Davis on the radio. After an hour or so she’ll ask me to take her home, because my girl isn’t into any funny business and that’s just the way I like it.

But if you wanted some free cabbages with your daily bread and all that free healthcare, yowza, did the Soviets have that covered.