Thursday, February 28, 2013

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I'm going to focus on Chris Bosh specifically in this video.  He needed this more than anyone.  No one has seen Bosh off the court after Wayne claimed that he had sex with his wife.  The best solution: outweird the situation.  Be so over the top weird that people will completely forget about this affair thing.  Well, not really, but at least take our minds off it for a second.

1)  Mario Chalmers' costume is hilarious.

2)  Good to see Ray Allen come out of his shell.

3)  Super creative of LeBron to dress like a "King."

Birdman in Miami?  He must be doing some unworldly drugs down there.  Shout out to him and his dealer.

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

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Probably the best/worst way to end Black History Month.

PS. Boy do I feel bad for that air.
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This is the official goodbye to the hot Kim K.  Gone are the shapely, borderline inappropriate outfits and out come the camou-pants that have to do God's work.  These are the pants equivalent of a single mother working 3 jobs to put her kids through college.

You know what I thought when I saw this?

I pictured this:
A fucking can of Pillsbury bursting at the seams.  How sad is that?  The fact that I am associating the Doughboy with what used to be one of the hottest in the game can bring a tear to my eye.

RIP, SexTapeLink.

PS. My MS Paint skills are becoming super special.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

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Because anytime you can make me relive this awful, awful moment:

Guess it's officially time to pull that Band-Aid off, buy some stronger adhesive and get back out there, gang.  And by get back out there, I mean "Ireland, stay the fuck away from this ship."  Your country has lost the privilege to build ships.  

So obviously we called in the big time reinforcements for a job this big.

Reinforcement 1:  Clive Palmer, the rich-ass Australian mining tycoon who's funding the whole operation

I don't think Clive could be more tycoon-looking if he tried.  White? Check.  Obese? Check.  General lack of concern for what's going on around him?  Double-check.  Dude's absolutely perfect for the role of "guy who funds the 2nd biggest ship-related disaster ever."

Reinforcement 2: China

This picture right here is exactly why this ship would get made in like 20 minutes.  It may not be pretty or ethical, but China gets shit done.  Put millions of hands, feet, and toddlers to work and you're going to get iPads.  Lots of them.  If rich ass Clive can somehow broker a deal and shift the production focus from Legos and every toy ever to ship materials, we may be on to something.

Not the slightest bit mad that the United States wasn't given a call.  It's a delicate ecosystem that we deal with.  Australian tycoons have the money, China has the manpower and the United States has the dumb idiots that forgot "Titanic" was about a ship hitting a glacier.  

Don't worry, everyone will have a blast for the first 90 minutes until it becomes a real drag with Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Jennifer Lawrence dying in the ocean and shit. 

Monday, February 25, 2013

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(I think I could have renamed this blog "Flatulence on Airplanes: Just Let it Go" instead of WMD and I wouldn't have skipped a beat.)

First things first, pyrosis (if it's heartburn why not call it heartburn, you snooty assholes) does NOT look like a good time:


I can probably do without having a Super Mario Bros. fireball randomly develop on my stomach and lungs, but I have a moral code to follow.

With that said, a rite of passage in a man's life is the ability to strategically hold in farts.  I've been in at least one million situations where farting could have literally ruined my life.  School plays, college projects, hanging out with a girl in any situation, moments of silence, the "Star Spangled Banner" at sports games, funerals, airplanes, buses, trains,  and elevators.  The only safe haven we have left is farting outside on a windy day because the crime can never actually get pinned on you and you can employ the "whoever smelt it, dealt it" defense anytime you want.  

Now scientists went ahead and ruined everything.  A medical encouragement to fart is the biggest trap in the history of traps.  I can see scientists coming out on April 1st saying, "GOTCHA!  You stank motherf******!"  You guys can dump your pants on planes all you want, but I'm going to be a traditionalist and have my lungs catch on fire the old-fashioned way. 

PS. Serious question: Would you rather be a regular person or the person that discovered that people can officially fart on airplanes?

PPS. Girls?  Girls don't fart.  Duh.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

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All future company "Ethics" meetings should last like 3 minutes and have a continuous loop of this .Gif with a red "X" through it. Pretty sure that's the best explanation of how not to conduct yourself in society.

There's a "Damn homie" joke that's out there, but I just can't find it.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

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From what I gather in this story, penguins are getting bored as hell in Antarctica and tossing themselves in the ocean to see where they end up.  Risky play? Yes.  YOLO?  Definitely.  But this shit is horrifically depressing.  If penguins are getting sad, what does this world have to offer.

Life was so bad this penguin fucking chanced it in the ocean.  You know how insane the idea of "chancing it" in the ocean is?  This guy just ignored the idea of sharks, boats, orcas, starvation, muscle breakdown and even more boredom and went forward.  Probably the dumbest, most bold idea of all time from a penguin perspective.

I can't imagine seeing an emaciated penguin.  That's 100% the funniest thing I can ever imagine seeing.  Penguins are hilarious enough, but a very confused thoroughly hungry penguin aimlessly stumbling around would be high comedy.  

Obviously I'd save it's life and bring it back to perfect health so we can be best friends forever, but for that first moment, I would have a very genuine laugh.

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Bedtime sucks.  It's one of the worst things that has ever happened in all of our lives.  You spend half the time staring at the clock and the other half not getting anything accomplished because you're freaking out about going to bed.  It's the closest thing to purgatory in a young boy's life.  That's no way to live.  Sometimes you have to go rogue and do something outside of the box.

My personal go-to move was asking for food at weird hours so I had to stay up by default.  It was a dangerous play because 95% of the time I wasn't hungry at all, but when Monday Night Raw was on, something had to give.  Basically I perfected how to rearrange the food on my plate so it looked like I actually ate something.  Real desperate, real stupid and rarely worked.  What's more desperate though is calling the god damn police on your mother so you can stay up.

There is no way to quantify how bad my mother would have whooped my ass but there hasn't been a number invented yet to describe it.  Ironically, it wouldn't have been legal and I would have 1000% had to call 911 to save my life.  I bet this mother-son combo had a nice laugh about it and had ice-cream afterwards.  Lolz, white people.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

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I'm a train guy.  I know the types of vagrants, derelicts and trick-ass marks that frequent the train.  Occasionally you'll see someone playing with themselves or a woman yelling at her reflection in the window. I just put my headphones on, stare at non-crazy people semi-accidentally and zone out for the ride.

Well this wonky character tried to bring a fucking adult-tricycle on board a bus.  All bets are off.  There is crazy and then there is attach a cardboard box to the back of your trike crazy.  Next level shit.  That person KNEW there was a -100% chance that contraption would make it on the bus, but part of him/her said, "Why not?"  That's the type of crazy that scares me.

Also, this isn't a manufactured vehicle.  This thing looks to be part bicycle, part other bicycle, and part shopping cart.  Combine that all together and you get the homeless version of the Megazord.

Just picture this:

and make it like 10,000x more homeless and you're there.

PS.  I'd really like to interview this batshit crazy person.  But obviously in a Anthony Hopkins-Jodie Foster, "Silence of the Lambs" type of scenario.

Monday, February 18, 2013

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And by special, I mean fucking awful.  Have yourself a weekend, Bosh.  Throw up airball after airball, get your ankle tendons torn, ruin Chris Paul's MVP celebration and deal with the possibility that Lil Wayne had sex with your wife while all of this was happening.

Example 1)
Z-Bo is just trying to get on the stat-sheet with an easy rebound and you took that away.

Example 2)

Example 3)
But you got your revenge though.

Example 4)

There are good weekends and there are bad weekends.  This was a bad weekend


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What?  Don't be so surprised to see this conversation.  It's just me and my boy "Erneh" Johnson discussing some very heavy issues on Twitter.  On this day, we decided to discuss the heinous act of slavery.  Sure, we could have held this conversation via text or on the phone, but I knew he was busy improving black-white race relations.  Didn't want to bother him out there.

Real talk, as far as "being around black guys so often, you slowly become black" guys go, I think Ernie Johnson is top tier.  The Malcolm X of white people.  One of my best friends.

Friday, February 15, 2013

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^you are a god damn liar if you have any type of clue how deep this is

Today was a pretty glorious day in the city of Boston.  First and foremost, the "Today Show" was in the city and I will probably non-violently stalk Savannah Guthrie later, but it was also 50 degrees outside.  If you live on the east coast you know that anything above 5 degrees could be considered a win for that day.  While it's a win, it also means that all the snow we got from that asshole Nemo is going to melt everywhere. With that said, there is nothing in the entire world worse than a fucking quality slush puddle.

Ranging from 1cm to possibly 7ft deep, slush puddles plague large metropolis areas that tend to pile snow on the corners of streets as a temporary solution to the road accessibility.  Because of this we lose (probably) 10-20 pedestrians per year to slush puddle related irritability.  It's bird poop and slush puddles on the Mount Rushmore of things that can automatically ruin your day.  The kings of their domain.  One is fecal matter and one is a slooshy, wet noodle of a sock and a "I don't know what was in that water, but my ankle is really itchy" fear to carry you through the day.  I haven't stepped outside yet because I'm trying to scale out the best route to avoid these things, but I'm just issuing a public service warning to those with small children and pets.  They could die out there.  Especially if they're black.  You know we can't swim.

Be safe ya'll.

PS. Actually I think bird poop is worse:

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

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Sometimes you just have to let the Youtube comments write the post for you:

So important.  If you're not crying at the 24 second mark, you shouldn't read this blog anymore because your sense of humor is broken.

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I just looked in the fridge and found an unexpected Kit-Kat sitting in there.  Guess what I did?  I got up started walking in place, chopping my arms up and down and flailing all remaining limbs in all sorts of directions.  I McLemore'd.  And you should too.

This may be the .Gif of the year, so there are a few people that steal the show here aside from Ben and I would like to put the spotlight on them because they are just as important.

Star #1:
-Nervous white guy.  You can tell he's nervous because he's biting his warm-up as a defense mechanism.  Have no fear, dawg.  When a moment like this happens you can seamlessly fit into almost any scenario regardless of your socioeconomic status.  McLemore'in.

Star #2:
We've all had this moment.  You ever see a friend of yours express interest in something you liked, but were scared to admit you liked?  It's like me and reality TV shows.  If I find another dude that knows every character on "The Challenge" we're insta-friends.  Well, this guy just found out Ben McLemore likes to dance.  That's the look of a guy that just made a new best friend.

Star #3:
The sidekick.  The bottom brick.  The guy that really makes this thing go.  You think Jordan could have had the success he had without Scottie Pippen.  The McLemore couldn't be the McLemore without alternating and perpendicular arm/leg extensions from this guy.  It gave everyone the confidence to start flailing their limbs rhythmically. 

I feel like Bill Self had some racist thoughts when he walked into the locker room and saw this.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

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Withering, lesbian-looking, Laker point guard versus the possibly overweight, big boobed, Kate Upton. Certainly an outlandish post on my part, but everything will start to make sense very shortly.

Let's start with my power statement: Why Kate Upton is very similar to Steve Nash. I should have been clearer here, but I'm actually referring to the Steve Nash MVP years of '04-'05 and '05-'06. Let's all be honest here, Steve Nash should NOT have won back to back MVPs and we can also be honest that Kate Upton's boobs should NOT have gotten back to back SI Swimsuit covers. Don't get me wrong, I love Nash and mammary glands. One can run the pick and roll to perfection and the others are boobs, but we have to call a spade a spade.

As soon as this happened:

Steve's future MVP opportunities should have been null and void. No offense, but Kobe maybe, possibly, impregnated your mouth there. Granted, Nash put up better stats his 2nd MVP year, but they still paled in comparison to LeBron, Dirk, and Kobe. The voters were just backed into an "Aw shit" corner and had to stay consistent. Shame.

Similarly, as soon as this happened:

and Nina Agdal happened:

Kate Upton should have been relegated to page 43 in the Body Suit section where she can be allowed to flourish. Don't throw a girl that clearly didn't put in the work during the offseason on the cover. She rested on her past successes and got rewarded for getting worse at her craft while a spry up and comer got screwed. Nina, we know how it should have gone, girl.

But never forget:

Monday, February 11, 2013

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Sure, Mars has oxygen issues, no sustainable water supply and virtually nothing to do, but guess what else it doesn't have? Spiders falling from the sky to poison all our foreheads. That's a very huge issue for me, so if it takes leaving the planet to avoid airborne arachnids, so be it.

This is without a doubt the worst thing in the world, right? I don't think it's even a question, but for the sake of word count, I had to ask it. Raining spiders are too nightmarish to qualify as a potential nightmare for me.

Good luck with the Olympics, Brazil. Mentally prepare yourself to watch Usain Bolt get devoured by giant Black Widows right before he does his "arrow to the sky" celebration.

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As you know, Hurri-blizzard Nemo came in and put Boston into a nuclear winter. I'm essentially blogging from a doomsday shelter with a can of beans and an electrical generator powered by a hamster wheel. Before the storm hit, I went outside to stock up on the essential supplies of toilet paper, V8 Splash, and Pillsbury biscuits. On the way, I saw this enterprising young bird just trying to figure things out:

-Just straight up didn't check the weather reports on the news and it's clear that he knew he fucked up. Once the flurries started, he got under this weak ass bush and looked like he was going to wait it out. I gave him a head nod, took his pic and knew this was without a doubt the last time I'd see this bird again.

-Sometimes you want to go out doing what you love. Hopefully when I'm on my deathbed, I'll have a invisible laptop on my chest and a weird news story queued up on WMD to publish on so you guys can all laugh with me one last time. This bird went out eating assorted nuts, berries and random debris. Pray for it's family.

Oh and in case you weren't sure whether these birds made it or not, this is the picture of that same area about 6 hours later:

Thursday, February 7, 2013

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All fun and games until around Pic 4. That's exactly when he realized he was in a good deal of trouble. A truly raw moment when a dude realizes his head is 5x it's normal size and that the hair dye didn't work.

Ain't nothing worse than being temporarily deformed. I've been there during a time I like to refer to as "The Sty of '99." If you're unfamiliar, a sty is basically a pus-filled sac in your eyelid that makes you look like you got punched in the face. Very embarrassing and highly treatable. So treatable that Mom didn't even attempt to keep me home from school. She just proceeded through the morning routine like Sloth from The Goonies wasn't chompin' on Lucky Charms in the kitchen; tossed me to the wolves on the bus, and proceeded on with her day.

And like clockwork, "Oh shit, Dub got his ass-whooped!" happened all day. Because everyone was an idiot in 7th grade, no one knew what a sty was and everyone assumed I was either abused at home or got beat up by a girl. There wasn't a middle ground. So from literally 7:30am-2:30pm I had to fend for my social life, defend my family's honor, explain what a sty was to at least 200 people, try to see the chalk board with one eye, and still maintain my status as the class clown. All very overwhelming. So I feel for you, man. We may not live on the same street, per se, but we are from the same town.

PS. If this kid wasn't called "Big-Faced Hunneds" throughout the duration of this, everyone failed.

PPS. The reason I got the sty was because I kept doing that thing when you flip your eyelid inside out to show the gross underskin. In order to remain the class clown, you have to do some things that were dangerous and outside of the box. No regrets.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

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I was about to dive into a news story about how moles can smell music or some shit and then got completely sidetracked when I saw what a mole actually looks like.

No, really, what in the FUCK is this about:

I have a lot to say about this. First off, this is what something looks like after it blasts itself in the face with a shotgun. Also, I'm not completely sure if that's a nose, mouth, vagina, or booty hole. When you can't tell if something is a nose or an asshole, there is something very wrong with you anatomically. Plus you have really weird hands, bro.

I'm so disappointed in:

I've lead my entire life to believe that this is roughly what moles looked like. Crafty oval-headed creatures that were just out to ruin crops. Occasionally 1 or 2 would get their hands on a hardhat and hilarity would ensue. You know, playful, lighthearted stuff. Nope, lies. Motherfucking Milton Bradley duped me hard.

PS. How messed up was the idea of whack-a-mole? "Oh shit, that mole is trying to attain natural light. Let's crush it's skull with a hammer!"
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If Chicago was worried about it's tourism, all fears should be put aside. It's a god damn grab-bag giveaway going down in the Murder Capital. Cops are straight up too busy dealing with the 19 murders per minute to deal with any type of crime where a person doesn't die.

So remember as a rule of thumb, kids: Don't beat anyone to the point where their heart stops beating and you're in the clear. The cops won't come. Need a new TV? Just get drunk, stroll into Best Buy, grab that 42" Samsung LED, walk out, punch the store attendant trying to stop to you in their orbital socket, go to the parking lot, steal a car, drive drunk, hit some people (BUT MAKE SURE THEY AIN'T DEAD THOUGH), and go home to illegally download the Taylor Swift discology. This is possible because you're in a state where Grand Theft Auto is literally handled over the phone.

911: "Yes, how can we help you today?"

Victim: "Someone stole my car!"

911: "Oh, ummmm....what did it look like?"

Victim: "It was a black Honda Accord, license pla.."

911: "Eh, it's probably gone"

Victim: "What? I didn't even finish telling you the license number"

911: "How the hell are we supposed to find a black car? Wait, wait..did anyone die in that car?"

Victim: "No of course not. Why wou.."

911: ::Dial Tone::

Moral of the story: Chicago is real bad. I don't know how they're putting up the murder numbers that they're putting up, but it's impressive in a depressing way. Like 5 people died while I wrote this blog, I'm pretty sure. People are either super pissed about stuff, have unlimited access to an array of deadly weapons or are eerily fragile/die very easily. Most likely a combo platter.

Makes me respect Carl Winslow even more and I didn't think that was possible.