You just made my list!

A couple weeks ago I attended the ultra-hip Pitchfork Music Festival. When I walked in the front gate, I thought I had possibly just passed through some sort of Michael J. Fox time portal to 1986. I was thinking, “Shit, have the past 25 years been a dream? Am I still in high school? Am I a virgin again?” Luckily I was still in 2010 and it was simply thousands of unoriginal, uninspired ironic hipsters walking around looking like extras on a John Hughes movie.

There are too many details to write about when it comes to these hipster turds, so I will focus on two unfortunate fashion trends that I thought I would never have to suffer through again.

Two-tone Ray Ban sunglasses!

Life’s a beach, right guys? These glasses were dumb in the 80s and they are even dumber now. If memory serves me, this style of sunglasses was never actually cool in the 80s. They were usually cheap promo items with some company name stamped on the side, like “Newport” cigarettes or “Pert Plus” shampoo. Maybe that’s why they are cool now because they are anti-cool? I can’t tell anymore. All I know is that your funny, ironic sunglasses suck and you smell like Pert Plus.

Girls with giant glasses!

This is a new trend in female hipsterdom that is concerning to me, I call them “Mary Gross Girls.” With this phenomenon we see frumpy girls working their hardest to take their frumpiness to new heights in an attempt to make us think their frumpiness is totally on purpose. “I’m actually super sexy under these culotte shorts that accentuate my incredibly smooth mom-ish FUPA. This mess is all on purpose!” Oh yeah, and they wear giant mathlete glasses, blah blah blah.

Hipsters are boring, just like this post.

“Help, my husband is having a heart attack!”

“Don’t worry ma’am, I’m a mixologist.”

“Wait, huh? How is that going to help?”

“I told you, I’m a M-I-X-O-L-O-G-I-S-T.”

“What the? Is there a doctor in the house? Please hurry!”

“What part of OLOGIST don’t you understand?”

“All of it.”

And… scene!

Don’t get me wrong, I like a good bartender who knows his or her shit and can whip up some old school cocktails, but can we stop with this “mixologist” nonsense? If your main source of income comes in the form of tips you are not allowed to be an “ologist” of any sort. Your job description can include “tender” or “keep” but let’s stop pretending you work at NASA.

Be proud to be a bartender! You are among greats like Tom Cruise, Moe, the slutty whores of Coyote Ugly and Tammy. Stop in and see Tammy!

New Star Wars characters released! Soon every child and adult nerd will be collecting the new Robert and Mike action figures from the latest installment in the George Lucas franchise, Star Wars: Let’s Golf This Weekend.

That would be a better explanation of this insanity but sadly these things exist on our planet.

As you all know, since the Iraq and Afghanistan wars began, the burka craze appears to be unstoppable! Seems like EVERYONE owns at least a couple burkas. Moms are wearing them to Walmart and kids in the ghetto are shooting each other over them. I don’t need to remind you that the runaway hit last Christmas was the Snuggie Burka!

Even THAT would be a better explanation.

In reality, these are to protect your precious face and hair (?) from the sun. How about this… if you are that sensitive to the sun you just have to stay inside. Maybe it’s selfish, but when I’m bench-pressing sexy babes on the beach for a crowd of onlookers I don’t need to see you and your sun helmet in my peripheral vision. To be honest, it’s dangerous for me and the girl I’m bench-pressing. I don’t have time for your distracting headgear, not now, not ever.

(This is the part where Jeff leaves a comment like “You know actually, these are for burn victims who need extra protection from the sun” and ruins everyone’s fun. Thanks Jeff.)

If only there was a way to combine my love of sandwiches with tennis ball packaging.

From now on when I head to a kickass beach party I’m grabbing a six-pack of Coors Light and a sixer of BBQ chicken sandwiches. I’m also bringing a six-pack of condoms because when the ladies see me pop the top off a fresh sammie they’re going to be like, “I wish that guy eating canned sandwiches over there would get me pregnant,” and I’m going to be like, “You wish,” and then she’s going to be like, “Yeah, that’s what I just said,” and I’ll be like, “That’s what she said,” and she’ll be like, “Wait, I can’t tell if you are kidding or you just can’t understand what I’m saying,” and then I’ll smash the empty Candwich can on my head and be like, “I just ate a canned sandwich so, yeah, I’d say I’m basically the shit. Now let’s do it.” Yet another girl goes home with a little PB&J all over her body. NEXT!

I don’t hate the concept of the Candwich. How could I? Sandwich in a can? Yeah, that’s perfectly normal and awesome. I do, however, take issue with the fact that the Candwich creator, Travis L. Wright, was able to talk a bunch of Utah investors out of $145,000,000 in order to make his dream of canned lunch a reality. Well technically they thought they were investing in real estate and Wright was secretly using their money to cram hoagies into soda cans. The point is, this guy had a dream and found a way to scam people in order to make it a reality. Why don’t I have that kind of resourcefulness?

Oh sure, it’s easy for you to sit there on your high horse and call Travis Wright a thief and a fraud but why don’t you take a bite of this turkey and Swiss before you pass judgment. Here, wash it down with a can of mashed potatoes and gravy.

Apology accepted.

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap…

That slow clap is for you, Kleenex, for having the balls to stick your middle finger up Mother Nature’s ass and say right to her face, “Fuck you bitch, you’re not the boss of me!” What’s next Kleenex? Q-tips made out out baby seal fur? HELL YEAH, fuckin’ go fuckin’ for it! BEER! (sorry, I’m still kind of amped from the 4th of July)

I will admit, I kind of hate the “green” movement. Not because of what it stands for, it stands for the RIGHT thing and we should all be more conscious about our impact on the environment, but rather I hate the way it has become the flavor-of-the-month for marketing agencies and an empty gesture made by most people. “Sure, I drive a Hummer but I also changed all the lights around the pool to compact fluorescent bulbs, so I’m doing my part.”

But come on Kleenex, disposable single-use hand towels in your home bathroom? Bravo! That’s like trying to sell “I hate America” T-shirts on September 12th. Although, this is one of the rare times I am wrong because people WILL buy this ridiculous gimmick because we (not me, you) are afraid of EVERYTHING in this country.

Kleenex will have everyone believing porn stars sneak into their bathrooms at night and jerk off all over their towels while their family safely dreams about EPCOT Center and Guitar Hero in their bedrooms. Oh, and those porn stars all have AIDS… and bird flu. Also, the birds had AIDS so they are really covering your towels in human AIDS, bird flu and bird AIDS. So if you are keeping score, that’s two AIDS and one flu. ON YOUR TOWELS!

Bruce Willis is really a ghost. Bruce Willis and Samuel L. Jackson are really superheroes. Water kills aliens and Mel Gibson’s wife tells him to swing some dumb baseball bat on her deathbed. The village is really an experiment and the movie actually takes place in modern times. The lady in the water is, I don’t know, magic or something. Plants are making people commit suicide.

SPOILER ALERT! Whoops, I did that wrong.

Feel free to send me thank you cards and gifts for saving you from wasting several hours of your life sitting through this bullshit. I prefer vintage acoustic guitars. (No Spanish or classical guitars please and obviously pre-1970)

First of all, how did a guy named M. Night Shyamymallanam7an even find work in Hollywood? What ever happened to directors with names like JOHN FORD and COEN BROTHERS? To be honest, I don’t have the five minutes it takes to say M. Night Shyamama$llayaymama, I’ve got shit to do, pal. I have a recall on my car to repair something that might cause my car to burst into flames and it has gone ignored for over 4 years, what makes you think I’m going to have time to pronounce your fucked-up name?

Remember when we all saw The Sixth Sense for the first time? After the movie we walked to our cars excitedly talking over each other, saying things like, “I never saw it coming” and “that kid who saw dead people was sooooo good” and “I totally can’t wait to rent this at Blockbuster on VHS video tape format so I can look for clues.” Well, we were a bunch of assholes. The sooner we can admit it the sooner we can begin the healing process.

UPDATE. Watch this.

How the fuck did I ever figure out whether or not my beer was cold before the world’s smartest scientists at Coors figured out how to make the box tell me? Hey box, if you’re so smart why don’t you tell me why my parents got divorced?

I’m wondering if people who drink Coors Light might be mildly retarded because Coors finds it necessary to constantly invent space-age cans, bottles and boxes that attempt to explain the difference between cold and not cold to their customers.

Some of you elitists out there are probably using your East Coast liberal voice to say, “Can’t you just touch the can to see if it’s cold?” Oh yeah? Why don’t you get back on your polo horse Spencer, because the working man ain’t got no time to be touching no bottles and cans all day long. Real men are too busy chopping trees the fuck down and hauling them behind their pick-ups with chains to waste time checking the temperature of every beer they encounter. Even if they WANTED to check the temperature of a Coors Light it would be impossible thanks to their leathery man hands.

Wait, I just realized I have no idea if Coors Light is a “working-class” beer or not. Maybe it’s the kind of beer college guys in puka shell necklaces drink? Perhaps it’s the beer you are most likely to see spewing from the mouth of a 38-year-old woman in the parking lot during her 20th high school reunion as Phil Collins’ “Another Day In Paradise” can quietly be heard from inside the Holiday Inn? I have no clue because I literally don’t think I have ever seen a single person drink a Coors or Coors Light.

Isn’t it funny how, like, women want to, like, shop and get married but guys, like, totally just want to watch sports and drink beer?

Want to go for a walk? Who wants to go for a walk? Who’s a good boy? Go get your leash. Go get your leash! Get your leash boy, it’s time for school.

The kind of parents who walk their kids around like dogs will tell you they do it to keep their children safe but the truth is that they are lazy. They are not prepared for the responsibility of keeping a watchful eye on their child so they opt for walking them around like Marmaduke. Why bother with diapers, just open up the patio door and send Timmy out to make in the back yard.

I miss the old kind of lazy parenting, the kind where mommy would tell you to go ride your bike for 10 hours so she could sunbathe in the back yard with a cigarette and a gin & tonic. The kind that encouraged a steady diet of bologna and soda and never had the time for a car seat. I miss my childhood.

The new wave of lazy parents are no fun.

And the Mother of the Year award goes to…