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Category: she blinded me with science

Crush, Kill, Destroy

Crush, Kill, Destroy

There’s something very satisfying about watching a yooper destroy a bowling ball just for giggles. I’ve always had deep, animalistic craving to smash everything bowling-related on sight, and my scores always reflected that. The man that looks like Saddam who rented me the shoes said that for really high scores, I should try golf.  I don’t have anything against bowling or people who bowl, so it’s merely a coincidence that I put toilet paper in that guy’s shrubs.

No one is actually good at bowling. People say they’re good bowlers but they’re lying like golfers do.  Don’t take that the wrong way; there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being an abysmal bowler. I wouldn’t trust a man that could bowl, or who knew what an Oxford comma was. I’ve noticed those are never the same people, by the way. 

I’m not unreasonable about these matters. I still go bowling every four years just to make sure I hate it.

Gotta Go Fast

Gotta Go Fast

When the title said 1000 mph office I was expecting something slightly different. I wanted to see a four story brick building filled with code monkeys barreling into orbit, but I guess a car is alright too. Well, it’s more of a land-bound rocket than a car, but I won’t tell if you don’t tell.

I’m hoping that when he gets done breaking the world land speed record he uses his office for actual work. You know, set up a nice desk, plug in a laptop, and start filling out spreadsheets or whatever it is people with real jobs do. I wouldn’t know, I spend all my time correcting people on the internet. It’s a dirty job, but someone has got to do it.

[Many thanks to illustrious Gerard at American Digest for sending this video along]

Just Think; Your Dad Played Wiffle Ball With You. Once

Just Think; Your Dad Played Wiffle Ball With You. Once

There can be no mightier man than the Dad Man.

See, Dad Man starts out big. He’s ten feet tall with arms like derricks and legs like tree trunks. He picks you up like a rag doll and throws you up in the air like a satellite. His voice booms like dragons arguing in a cave. His beard is like pavement. You’re down there on the floor, and he’s up there in the heavens. He has pockets full of quarters. He is the mightiest man you know.

Then there’s this guy. He’s Dad Man squared. 

(Thanks to reader Jonathan Frost-Johnson for sending that one along, via The Silicon Graybeard)

Look, I Watched The Terminator. This Won’t Do

Look, I Watched The Terminator. This Won’t Do


Don’t get me wrong, we’re going to watch the hell out of this robot video, because hey; robots.

We love robots. We like it even better if the robot’s very human-ish looking, and plodding along. We like the Frankenstein pace for heightening the creepy pursuit factor. Sarah Connor runs, the metal beast walks, Sarah gets tired, or maybe sees a sign in a shop window that says: SHOE SALE, and stops to look in the window, and the metal man catches up.

But what it this foolishness? Tripping on a stick? This thing should already have lasers for eyes, and a flamethrower for a pecker, and plow through anything like that. I was gonna put in an order for a couple dozen of these bad boys, but what sort of evil overlord would I be with an army of robot killers that can’t deal with stepping on a Lego brick?

My bad. Nothing can survive stepping on a Lego brick.