Still Safer Than Working The Overnight Shift In The Convenience Store On The First Floor

Still Safer Than Working The Overnight Shift In The Convenience Store On The First Floor


Please stop doing this. I’m begging now. It makes my hair hurt to see it. I gets dem willies every time I see this sort of thing. It makes my poop itch. I wish you’d join the circus and put your head into rabid tiger with a toothache’s mouth instead. You know, something safe. You’re killing me.

I’m so shook up after watching that video that I get the urge to hide under my bed, but my bedroom is on the second floor and that’s still too high. I want to go down to the basement and start digging until the acrophobia calms down, but after a few hours of furious shoveling I always realize all I’m doing is getting higher in China.  Then it’s panic mode, I’m tellin’ ya.

Please stop making me post these videos. I’m pleading with you. Stop me before I post again. 

[ Hey Gerard at American Digest, please stop sending me videos with people on ledges. And don’t blame me if I use them. I have to post them because reasons]

Look, I Don’t Know How To Break It To You…

Look, I Don’t Know How To Break It To You…


…So I’ll just get to the point. Star Wars, in all its iterations and forms, sucks. It blows. It’s interplanetary, extraordinary tommyrot. It’s 114 percent rubbish, and not very interesting rubbish at that. It’s an incoherent muddle of a story, like twenty-five cut-rate comic books sent through a shredder and then reassembled with the bits in any old order. Even the font they use for the title is ugly. Then again, what do you expect? The whole franchise is the comic sans of entertainment.

I sometimes think of Alec Guinness, a real and accomplished actor, wandering the cheesy sets in a used bathrobe, surrounded by muppets and SoCal stooges, all the while thinking to himself, “I used to be in David Lean movies. I did Lear with Olivier. Now I’m standing next to a guy dressed as a giant marmoset or shrew or badger or something that grunts all his lines. There’s some sort of brass dress dummy and a garbage pail on casters I’m supposed to deliver my lines at. As soon as I get back to the trailer I’m calling my agent to ask him if the check they wrote me is big enough for me to have him killed with enough left over for me to retire.”

And the music? Look, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but John Williams is a hack. I only worry about hurting the audience’s feelings, because I bet I can’t hurt John Williams’ feelings, He obviously doesn’t have any. Every time I hear any of that atonal twaddle, I wonder to myself, “I wonder who that is playing that song with his elbows? 

But hey; cool organ.

[Thanks to Dadof Homeschoolers for sending that one along]

Sometimes, There’s A Chelovek

Sometimes, There’s A Chelovek


I only mention it because sometimes there’s a chelovek– I won’t say a hero, because what’s a hero? But sometimes there’s a chelovek. And I’m talking about this Dude here — sometimes there’s a chelovek who, well, he’s the chelovek for his time and place. He fits right in there; and that’s this Dude, sitting in the cab of an excavator with a hammer attachment on the boom. And even if he’s a lazy chelovek — and this Dude was probably that, and lit on vodak, too; quite possibly the laziest in whatever oblast that is, which would place him high in the running for laziest worldwide — but sometimes there’s a chelovek. Sometimes there’s a chelovek…

Well, I lost my train of thought here. But — aw hell, I done introduced him enough. Let’s see what he can do with that bridge.

[Sometimes there’s a chelovek named  Жерар in Seattle that sends us stuff. Amerikanskiy Daydzhest]

For God’s Sake, I’m Warning You, Mute The Video Before You Watch It

For God’s Sake, I’m Warning You, Mute The Video Before You Watch It


The Borderline Sociopathic Boy stays cool under pressure.

You’re in a bad situation. Very bad situation. But you don’t want to make things worse for yourself, do you? No, so you keep cool. You hang in there. You do what a man’s got to do. You wait until the last second, then you do what you have to do with no hesitation. 

If you can keep your head when all about you   
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;   
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   
    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;   
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   
    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   
    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Or you can just stand there and say OH MY GOD over and over again. That might work out, too.

[Thanks to reader and commenter Leon for sending that one along]