I Think He’s a Good Man. I Like Him. I’ve Got Nothing Against Him, But I’m Definitely Gonna Make Orphans of His Children

I Think He’s a Good Man. I Like Him. I’ve Got Nothing Against Him, But I’m Definitely Gonna Make Orphans of His Children

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The latest fight reminds me of one of Pacquiao’s fights from a few years ago. Even though he’s way past his prime, the man can still kick an ass like nobody’s business. I would rather get my faced ripped off by a rabid racoon than fight Manny Pacquiao. He’s not the scariest looking guy, but in a heartbeat he can rearrange your face to look like one of Picasso’s drunken nightmares. He’s a beast. His beastliness wasn’t really reflected in last night’s fight, but that doesn’t make Pacquiao any less terrifying.

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We Can Rebuild Him — We Have The Technology

We Can Rebuild Him — We Have The Technology

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We have the capability to make the world’s first bionic man. Toby Segar will be that man. Better than he was before. Better, stronger, faster, but he’ll still be a ginger. I’m sorry, nothing can fix that. It’s genetics, there’s nothing we can do. Unless you want to dye your hair every five minutes, but that seems like way too much work. I think it would be much easier to follow through with the whole six-million-dollar man deal, and forget your debilitating gingerness. We can rebuild what’s broken, and make you better overall, but we can’t make you any less of a flaming ginger.

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Post-Avant Jazzcore Is Much Better Than Progressive Dream-Funk

Post-Avant Jazzcore Is Much Better Than Progressive Dream-Funk

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That’s right folks, there’s close to 28 minutes of this. I think I can safely make fun of this without the fear of any backlash from the musical community. I’ve been told that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all art is subjective, but come on, fellas. You can do better than this. I feel like a million angry bees are trying to burrow into my brain as my alarm clock eats me alive while the entire world disintegrates. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but can you tone it down a little? You’re at about a ten — I need you at a four. You fellas make Philip Glass look like Ke$ha.

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HA HA! BUSINESS!

HA HA! BUSINESS!

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I don’t think I’m cut out for big business. The constant human interaction frightens and confuses me. I can’t even get the business expressions right: A bird in the hand is probably dead, but not worth quite as much as a bush or two. Err — A closed mouth gathers no foot, but makes it very hard to eat a sandwich. The early bird gets the worm, and dysentery, probably. This is why I quit business school; I failed my business expressions class, and never recovered.

Even though I flunked spectacularly and dropped out of business school, I still managed to get a job in a rather large office building. It didn’t last long, because I kept stealing printers, and swiping boxes of plastic utensils from the break room, but it was worth it.

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