Sunday, April 27, 2008

The Third Speaks: Snorkels for Polar Bears

Hello ladies and gentlemen,

You probably have been wondering since the inception of this blog, who is this mysterious/sexy Stinkerton who lurks in the sidebar of this tantalizing blog? Ok, you are right, you have been thinking no such thing, mostly because you don't know what 'tantalizing means'. I have come to answer just that question, with a scathing tirade so acidic it will make you look up from your lol-catz.

The subject of my tirade:
The Balding Penguin

Thats right, its adorable.

This is revolting. It is this sort of mindless whale-hugging that allows Subaru to get away with green living adds. (Note: whales are slimy and bad huggers)

"Oh, look, that penguin is losing its little hair! I know lets give it a jacket so it can swim around and be soooooo cute in its little penguin wet-suit."

WRONG! We should be saying "Haha! You're an inferior penguin, and you are going to die." and then laugh as it shivers alone in a corner.

Don't misunderstand. I love nature as much as any of you hippies. You can tell because I eat more of its creatures than you do (I'm really glad they didn't give those flightless chickens airplanes), but its the circle of life. The weak are supposed to die, it is just how the works.

I will explain this to in a way that caters to your ADD. Lets say we give this penguin a wet suit. Rather than dying like it is supposed to, it goes and gets busy with a bunch of girl-penguins without use of a penguin condom (I wonder if sperm balds too?). Then he carries his little egg and it hatches into little bald baby penguin, which are also adorable. But soon these babies are making more bald babies! Soon, they every penguin in the arctic is to busy shivering, and get eaten by polar bears. It is kind of like the movie 28 days later except far less exciting and far more cute.

However, all of this talk of polar bear gives me an idea. Why don't we just give all the polar bears who are drowning in the north pole snorkels? At least with them it is our fault that they are dying, and not some genetic defect, unless you count that they weren't born with gills (slackers).

Friday, April 25, 2008

Snark Monster Sez: Get These Hos Out of My Job Application System!

So say I got a job opening for a party in my pants.

--Granted, this is all metaphorical so you internet pervballs can understand what I'm talking about.--

So I got this opening in my pants, but there's only so much room in there for potential hires--ya know? Three to a thigh, five in the middle, and ten down the back. It's a huge party and now it's booked up. I don't want to be seeing any more of these stinkin' ho resumes.

But then a friend swings by, "Hey Man, I got the sickest of the sick, A-plus-plus ho for you. You'll love him. You gotta let him into the party."

And I'm all like, "But Dude, I just closed this shit up! Now I have to put a call in to HR to get them to let down the zipper to get one more party person inside past all the other people waiting at my velvet shoelace's rope to get in!"

And Dude's all like, "This guy is the king of parties--like that f*in' Aussie kid good."

And so I'm like, "Fine, fine. I'll put in a call to HR."

So I'm plotting with my HR lady to sneak a fast one by them all and let this party boy through. And I think I'm being all swift--"Let's open it at night, call the guy real fast and have him jump the queue and then we'll pull the zipper back up right quick."

So I hit all the necessary buttons on my keyboard, get Ms. Thang in HR to let down my drawbridge, put my call in to Party Boy, "Yo, let's do this." Dot every fucking T and cross all the Is.

And I think I'm all slick sitting down at my computer this morning, ready to celebrate with Party Boy for making it in, close that shit out and be done with it. But what do you think is sitting in my inbox? A six pack for a job well done?

Hells, no!

It's an email from one of the velvet shoelace hos! Don't you know it, she's been squatting on our hiring page, all night long refreshing until she sees the backdoor slide open. And what does she throw my way? A fucking passive aggressive parade!

"I applied for this position back in March {sound the kazoos!} and was told that the position was currently on hold {here come the baton twirlers!}. But now I see from your website that the position is open again {here comes the marching band!!}. Are you accepting applications again?! {Oh snap! It's the clown car!} And ARE YOU STILL CONSIDERING ME FOR THIS JOB?!? I SWEAR I'M NOT DESPERATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! {Clowns everywhere! It's a fucking red nose apocalypse!}"

I got two words for you Honey: Chill & Pill. Find it. Take one. It's fucking Friday, my friend. And I've got a party in my pants.

Monday, April 21, 2008

You are extremely NOT welcome!!

Oh, hi there! I'm sorry, I was too busy being distracted by how annoying this post is to see you there. Do you own a bike? Do you ride it in the city? If the answer is No, then welcome. Have a seat, or keep standing and continue to read on your mobile device. If the answer is Yes, then please stay the hell away from me. I drive a car and am proud of it. It's bad enough having to have a biker as a roommate, I don't want any reading this blog.

So, to start things off, here is my first subject of rage:


Flan is so dumb, it doesn't even have a page on Wikipedia. Take that, flan. I don't really even understand what it is, and I've eaten it. It's a strange color and the texture is disgusting. If you've ever eaten flan, you will know that it also has an oozing liquid, which leaks out of the side of it. This reminds me of fruit on the bottom yogurt, where you have that extra yogurt juice, which isn't quite yogurt, and doesn't really resemble any of the fruit from the bottom. I know you know which juice I'm referring to.

It also jiggles and does not look or taste real. It looks like something you should find at an office supply store and tastes like an envelope. Oh, you complain that I'm being vague and not descriptive enough? Well that is how flan tastes: vague. I do like foods tha jiggle. Believe me, I love Jell-O with or without liquor in it. But it usually comes in bright colors and delicious artificial flavors. Plus it doesn't have any of that awful pus juice.

Here is an example of the jiggling:

See, gross. This is what my dashboard dictionary has to say about Flan:

1) A baked dish consisisting of an open-topped pastry case with a savory or sweet filling
2) A disk of metal such as one from which a coin is made
Origin: From French (originally denoting a round cake) from old French flaon, from Medieval Latin flado, fladon, of West Germanic origin: related to Dutch vlade 'custard'

Mmm nothing hits the spot like pastry case or a disk of metal. You may be thinking "But Rageoline, the origin of the word shows that flan has existed for quite some time and so must be a beloved and treasured dessert." Absolutely not. Here is what I think actually happened:

The Dutch: Yuk, my attempt to make currency has failed and turned into nothing but goop, we shall pass this onto the Germans as they are gullible and divided. Of course they will believe us, we've been to Asia and stuff.

The Germans: This is terrible, those Dutch are real bastards. You know who we hate? The French. I bet we can pretend to insult them, they'll totally fall for it, and they shall adopt this dessert as their own (very similar to Bismarck's actual strategy).

The French: Okay, not even we could make this good. Maybe we can give it to the Spanish?

The Spanish: This is fantastico!!! It is the only dessert that has survived our climate so far! And oh, we can totally sell this to those Argentines...they love bland and flavorless things.

So there you go, the complete and accurate history of flan. For all those people who like flan, go eat something real with chocolate.