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Man Doesn’t Blink For Eight Years, Sleeps Once
I can barely remember to put on pants every morning, yet this guy is able to take a picture of himself every day for eight years straight. He only showered twice in that time, but that’s pretty average for me.
It’s easy to forget that eight years is an awfully long time. If you jump from the beginning of the video to the end he looks like a completely different person. Not a little different, mind you, a lot different. He looks like his skin is being worn by an alien who’s trying to take over his life — but in a good way. He looks about ten years older after having kids, but children tend to do that to a person.
If you watch closely you might catch him smile, but he’s like the lovechild of Mona Lisa and the Sphinx, so I wouldn’t hold out much hope.
Замусоривание Капиталистическая Накипь Щебень По Героя Советского Союза
No one likes littering — no one. Next to infanticide and voting for the Green Party, littering is one of the worst things a person can do. I may or may not be exaggerating for effect, but you get the point. I have noticed that littering bothers regular people much more than it bothers anyone else, which is strange because they’re not directly affected. The demographics who are affected don’t really seem to give a crap.
Squirrels and other small animals love littering because it gives them a free, half-eaten meal. Hobos like it because they can pick up the recyclables for some of that sweet, sweet bottle return cash. Teenagers like it because they can beat up the hobos and take all their bottle return cash. And the fattened squirrels are run over by motorists, completing the cycle. It’s a beautiful life we lead thanks to littering. We have an entire ecosystem that’s been built up around chucking crap out of your car window, and life has never been better.
Except for all of those stupid porpoises who get their noses caught in those plastic rings that come with a six-pack. From all appearances their lives seem to suck, but they totally deserve it. That’s what they get for being smug little sea-pricks all the time. Who’s swimming around without a care in the world now? Pro tip: it’s not you.
(Many thanks to the incorrigible Charles Schneider for sending this our way)
товарищ, I Am Getting The Band Back Together
No matter how good a music career you have, there are very few situations where it will end well. Either they find your lifeless, heroin-filled corpse in a Motel 5.9, or you live long enough to be parodied by Weird Al. Neither situation sounds very appealing.
You can always retire early or do something else, but no one has that kind of sense. If you wind up playing the accordion for tips in a park in Peterhof you should consider yourself lucky, because the alternatives are death or being in the Rolling Stones.
Even when the rest of the band has gone on to better things, you’ll be left with memories of all the good times you had. Back when the only good parties were bloc parties.
(Many thanks to Charles Schneider for sending this one along)