Uggztravaganza

Why is it that every girl in America wears or wants Uggz? This is yet another phenomenon in contemporary society that I just don't understand. It seems so against everything I understand about fashion that the whole of young females want to look like stocky Inuit women.



One funny thing about Uggz is even though every girl in America has them, every girl in America also makes fun of other people wearing them. If they wear them under their jeans, they're probably whores. If they wear them over their jeans, they're idiots. If they wear them too early or late in the season, they should have a government-subsidized hysterectomy. And how dare they wear them with a North Face. Everybody does that. You, with your EMS fleece, are much more independent.

Somehow, that entire previous paragraph had a distinct Mean Girls feel to it. But I've never seen that movie. Never.

When you ask a girl why she wears Uggz just like everybody else, they say that it has nothing to do with them being popular...it's because they're comfortable. Maybe true, but they were just as comfortable before 50% of the population went and got themselves a pair. Hell, I'm sure it'd be comfortable to shove your feet into 2 bags of cotton balls and walk around in those all day. But that doesn't cost 100 dollars and it's not cool (yet...)

You see, as a general rule, I like to blatantly avoid what the masses do. Because the majority of America is stupid, I find it quite convenient to wait and see what the majority of America does, and then not do that thing. I find it saves me lots of aggravation in the future. Ladies, I think you will find that it is quite rewarding to be so discerning.

I have a theory that people will literally buy ANYTHING if it's perceived to be cool. I mean, the Pet Rock? Say no more. Uggz may be more practical, but the same basic theory is at play here. I only wish I knew how to get the ball rolling on an avalanche-like idea such as Uggz. Once the perception is out, it's only a matter of time before the lemmings do the rest of the work for you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with 2 bags of cotton balls.

Vegetarianism: More meat for me!

You know something, vegetarianism is something I used to speak out against rather vehemently. I mean, human beings are at the top of the food chain. We're apex predators. We've been afforded, no, cherished with the evolutionary gift of not being in any other animal's regular diet.

Of course there are exceptions. Sometimes a bear, a crocodile, or a shark might go ahead and eat one of us. You know something? We probably shouldn't have been fucking around with them. If you don't want to be eaten by a bear, don't go frolicking in the Alaskan wilderness reserve. Catch my drift?

But barring these extenuating circumstances where dumbshits like Timothy Treadwell think they're Dr. fucking Dolittle and wind up the main course, human beings are in a priveleged position. We have our pick of the litter. We do the hunting (note: see "I want to hunt a pig"). We don't have to watch our asses. Vegetarianism is arrogant and selfish because vegetarians choose to disregard this wonderful gift of immunity from being eaten. You're given the throne and you choose to live among the rodents. We all know it's rude not to accept a gift. It's about counting your blessings, people.

Not to mention, once someone makes the decision to become a vegetarian, good luck knocking them off their high horse. Eating meat is cruel! How could we be such meanies? Let's just forget about the millions of years of human life where our ancestors' ancestors had to eat meat or die. Let's forget about how a huge proportion of animals eat other animals, and it's just a part of life.

And if that weren't enough, vegetables taste like a pile of shit, whereas meat is the greatest thing in the world.

And that, my friends, is when I had an epiphany. If you're like me, when you meet a vegetarian, your first instinct is probably to kick them in the face. You want to prod at them, test their resolve, inquire as to the extent of their commitment (i.e. find out if they're one of those "I'm a vegetarian but I eat chicken and fish" people), and pose all sorts of ethical dilemmas to them involving the slaughter of animals. Don't worry. I understand.

It hit me that the planet is overpopulating rather quickly. Resources becoming more and more scarce. Why am I wasting my breath trying to convert these silly vegetarians away from the dark side? If I succeed, all I'm doing is putting another meat eater in place to compete with me for the precious flesh that I crave. Meat is a precious commodity. Who knows how long we'll be able to enjoy it with impunity?

In that spirit, become vegetarians, readers! More for me...I mean, meat is cruel! Why kill animals when we don't have to!? In fact, let's all go visit them! Let's camp out in the Alaskan wilderness! Let's swim down the Nile river! Let's go swimming on the Australian gold coast! It's motherfucking SALAD TIME!!!

The Douche is gaining momentum...

Quick hitter here...I just rediscovered a stupid commercial. Not a new commercial, just stupid. While I instantly remembered this commercial, it became clear that I never watched it all the way through before. This commercial was for Sylvania Silverlight car headlights.

In it, a smug-looking man in a stupid tweed jacket keeps saying "now you see me, now you don't" in varying shades of light. If you're not following the gist here, Silverlight headlights are better, shine farther, and will probably cook you breakfast.

That's nothing new. A typical commercial angle. I even like the little hitch of the guy walking back and forth into the different headlights. I'm looking at you, visual learners. But here's where the commercial just takes a spinning nosedive into stupid.

The guy, smug as ever, says something like "better use Silverlights, because next time you see me... I might not be alone." At this point, the camera pans out and there's a 12 year old boy standing in front of the guy. I might add that the guy has his hands on the boy's shoulder in a very creepy, very "mommy I think I want to go home" fashion.

How fucking cheap. You were doing so well, Sylvania. Then you had to go and pick one of the 3 or 4 most cliched sensitivities to prey on? Oh, save our children! Give me a break. This is a worse cheap shot than all those goddamn truck companies wrestling for the title of "America's truck," the granddaddy of them all being John "No I won't just die already" Mellencamp and his "This is Our Country" abomination. It's worse than Catherine Zeta-Jones pitching T-Mobile.

Okay, so preying on sensitivities is deplorable, but did they make the commercial just hoping that people would never take more than 3 seconds to think about it? (Ed. Note: clearly it worked for a while on me, because as I mentioned, this is not a new commercial) Is the message that it's okay to run over adults, but not kids?

While I'll agree that it would be fun for all of us to see Sergeant Smug get run down by an old war vet with shitty headlights, is that something we're to extrapolate and apply to all adults? Don't worry about that lady you just decapitated in the crosswalk, she was over 18.

This commercial pisses me off, and I will now drive my car, headlights off, right into a group of small children playing hopscotch. I hope you're happy, Sylvania.

I could kick a wolf's ass.

In a lot of bad movies, there will be a scene in which the protagonist is lost in the woods. (Editor's note: it is Wintertime. There are no exceptions.) During this frenzied search for their car, their log cabin, town, or something similar, they will come across a wolf. This sends the character into a full-fledged hysteria.

Stop the tape. This is stupid! Now, a pack of wolves, I get. You're surrounded, they have sharp things, they have a lot of practice laying the smack-down on unsuspecting forest-dwellers...that's a scary situation. A bear, forget about it. Those things weigh a ton and have paws the size of my thigh. You're toast. Any of the big cats (Lions, Tigers, Cheetahs, Mountain Lions, Panthers, Jaguars, etc) will rip your throat out and use it for wiffle ball. Don't fuck around with these bad boys. But a wolf?!?! A wolf is a yellow lab with a bad attitude. Stop it.

In the movie, the character will freeze (as in stop moving...has nothing to do with the inevitable winter.) They will slowly backtrack as the wolf makes a menacing face and probably slobbers everywhere. Then they will run. This is stupid. Wolves are fast as shit and now you're invoking their predatory response.

According to the highest pillar of academia, Wikipedia, wolves generally range from 44 to 150 pounds. That's nearly a range of 100, so for our purposes we'll call it 95. So I'm face to face with this 95 pound wolf. I'm closing in on 190. I like my odds. First of all, if I can grab a tree branch or something (there will always be one available in the movie...real life could possibly be different), I could poke and jab this surly beast and maintain a safe distance.

In the event there's no stick, I'm still cool. I'd probably charge the motherfucker to let him know that his snarling drool totally isn't working on me. At this point, I would probably entertain the thought that the wolf was rabid, before continuing on unfazed. Taking special notice to protect my throat, stomach, and man-tools, I am now heading in for the Shawn Michaels' Sweet Chin Music face-kick.

Any wolf with half a brain is now running for the hills, knowing that I could eat its bitch-ass with some hot sauce and ask for seconds. But if it was particularly brazen, I'd have to finish it off. Riding an adrenaline rush, I'd keep kicking the savage bastard like Jackie Chan, while eyeing the opportunity for the pin. Once I pounce on the wolf, it's game over. I deflect its desperate attempts to bite/claw at me, and either snap its neck, or crack its skull with my fists of fury. It's game over. I stand over my victim briefly, possibly engaging in some sort of moral dilemma, and then move on.

It's a failsafe plan. Please. Don't be afraid of a wolf. That's just what Hollywood wants from you. Commie bastards.


Who could be afwaid of a wittle face wike that? Awwwww.

Reflection on election defections

Today, I have partaken in a time honored democratic tradition, known locally as "voting." As enlightening as it is to stand on the doorstep of a monumental election, staring proudly into the future with misty eyes and an open heart, I've got to say, one thing just rattled my cage.

The new ballots suck!

When I was a young lad, my mom took me with her to vote. I frolicked joyfully up the hill to our voting center, into the gym, and gazed upon a marvelous sight. A mystical booth, shrouded in the secrecy of what looked like someone's grandmother's tablecloth. What miraculous things could take place behind this glorious veil of democratic anonymity? I went into the booth with her, she closed the curtain, and I laid my eyes upon something to this extent:



This incredible contraption is a whimsical cross between being a mad scientist, a fighter pilot, and the guy who generates power to the electric chair. The bevy of buttons! The symphony of switches! And to top it all off, a huge, authoritative lever that cleared your ballot and took shit from nobody. No wonder people got so excited for election day!

Somewhere in the neighborhood of a decade later, I, Ryan Prescott, took my first journey to the polling place. My heart raced with anticipation as I entered the gym, dreaming of levers and buttons, buttons and levers. What would modern technology add to this enchanting booth? Would I be able to pick up a Duck Hunt gun and shoot my choice? Would I get to play with a touch screen? Surely there would be something there to read my fingerprint or scan my retina.



That's it. I'm handed a ballot, and I'm directed to this. The cold, hard, stiff piece of paper laughing at me as I die inside. No magical box. No buttons and levers. Just paper, marker, and desk. A Democratic Scantron. Where do I enter my PeopleSoft number?

Please also note that the picture of the voting desk is from a site called "election-equipment.com." First of all, silly site. Second of all, election equipment? Really? A desk with a C-shaped piece of posterboard on it? Replace the section directly in front of the voter with glass, and that picture could have come from "Prison-visitation-equipment.com." I come to the gym thinking Night at the Arcade, and I leave thinking CAPT Test. And while I will admit the machine that sucked up my ballot was a little fun, it was still even less amusing than a paper shredder.

We can't let them take the fun out of voting. Not on my watch. Bring back the unnecessary elaborate voting mechanisms, for god's sake. We're a society with a short attention span. Let's try to make voting less like a trip to the DMV.

Oh yeah, and I voted for Obama. Over and out, kiddies!