The Week In Review
Last week I selflessly ran the very real risk of winning a Pulitzer Prize when I blew the lid off of the robotics industry’s secret plan to enslave us all with Robotic Death Sparrows. Because of this earth shattering story, several things happened: First of all, intelligent people from all walks of life began burrowing into the earth in an attempt to save their lives. (At least I did, and now my boss wants to know why there’s a huge hole in my cube.) Second, I was made to be aware that the robotics industry was not pleased with my exposé when I found the following DVD footage on my doorstep next to a pile of sparrow feathers.
Yes, the Robo-Mule now throws cinder blocks, and it is only a matter of time before it can throw increasingly heavier objects, like refrigerators, Volkswagens, and Kirstie Alley. Do not be deceived by its cute, pre-toss Robo-Mule-has-to-go-potty jig, the Robo-Mule is displeased, and if my lifeless body is found broken underneath a pile of masonry, you will know what happened.
The other consequence of my story (which, by the way, would make an excellent major motion-picture starring Brad Pitt) is that the Pulitzer groupies came out of the woodwork. Seriously, I”m drowning in girls over here. It was nice at first, but frankly I’m afraid that I run the risk of winding up like Woodward and Bernstein. After they exposed Richard Nixon’s involvement in Watergate, they weren’t heard from for years. When they finally surfaced, they were withered husks of their former selves. They tended to drool a lot, and they reeked of newspaper ink and poon-tang. It was a goddamn tragedy.
Alas, the threat does not end with robotic sparrows and mules. The latest danger comes, once again, from Duke University which has managed to link rat brains from two different continents so that they may exchange the following vital information: “I like cheese.” Robotic sparrows can peck our eyes out, robotic mules can shower us with bricks, and now distributed rat brain thinking can spread pestilence and plague via the internet. Wonderful.
And what, exactly, is your fucking problem, Duke? You don’t make enough money from your fucking basketball program, so you have to have a Mad Scientist program as well? I think it is clear that for the good of humanity, Duke University needs to be bombed out of existence, and I only partially feel that way because I bet I could make a fortune selling “Nuke Duke” t-shirts.
It used to be that our stupid ideas were just that: stupid ideas. The Pet Rock, for instance, was an incredibly dumb idea, and if you found that your child suckered a kid with special needs into buying one, you’d ground his little ass for a week. But it didn’t really hurt anyone, it was just a bad idea.
Even as recently as the 90’s, our dumb technological ideas were harmless. I was smack dab in the middle of the dot com era, and I personally witnessed breathtakingly idiotic ideas such as the printable potato chip. I remember literally laughing myself out of my chair at work when I read that a startup had received venture capital funding with the following business model.
- Develop a paper-sized, flexible potato chip
- Replace the ink cartridge in a printer with a cartridge holding Cool Ranch flavoring
- Print potato chips
- Wait for world-wide starvation (or for the average IQ to plummet below 30)
Another classic case of stupidity was the smellable internet. Yes, some company wanted to sell a module that would emit aromas while you surfed the web so that when you went to Al Gore’s home page, for instance, it might smell like a pine forest, or maybe smugness. One wonders if the inventors had ever been exposed to the internet, because I have seen the internet, and I can say with 100% confidence that I do not want to know what most of it smells like. (This site, in case you were wondering, would smell like
whiskey and Astroglide apple blossoms.)
But none of those ideas would run amok and toss a fucking cinder block at you if it felt like you had mocked it behind its back.
On to what’s been going on the last few weeks while you wept for mankind and kissed your loved ones goodbye:
- A few Mondays ago, I also exposed your cat, the pothead. (Seriously, with all this award-winning journalism, I’m like Fletch, only high on paint fumes.)
- A few Wednesdays ago, we learned that my boss, the Captain, is getting too old for this shit.
- On Valentine’s Day, my son did his part to fund Obamacare.
- A couple of Tuesdays ago, I ran across some wild horses. And no, they couldn’t drag me away.
- Also a couple of Tuesdays ago, we learned why you should never let your children go into Blockbuster. (Not that there’s any reason to go in there in the first place.)
- The Wednesday before last, I complained about how fucking lame Chicago (the band) is. This makes me the most original person, ever.
- A couple of Fridays ago, I… I’ll be honest with you. This sounds like the kind of thing one would be ashamed of. I’m not. Not at all. I challenged Peter Cetera to a fistfight. Someone had to do it.
- Last Sunday, I learned that Dogs on Drugs was nominated for a Bloggie for best writing. I also learned that the Bloggess once lit a hobo on fire. Just sayin’.
- Last Tuesday, karma bit me on the ass and my kids flooded the bathroom.
- Last Wednesday, we learned that IKEA killed Mr. Ed. Or something like that. I try not to pay attention to what I write.
- Robotic Death Sparrows.
Wow, I guess it has been a while since I wrote a Week in Review post, huh? I try to write one every week, but fail most of the time because it dawns on me that if I blow it off for another week, the long list of posts makes it look like I’ve been wildly productive instead of spending all my time lurking in the lingerie section at Walmart.
Ok, time to take care of some odds and ends. First of all, long-time and very valued reader Vonny complained about the Poll of the Moment, because, frankly, it’s kind of disgusting. (Why a long time reader would be surprised by this, I don’t know.) I felt that in order to more accurately gauge my readership’s taste in fellatio partners, I needed to hold out until I had more data points. Well, I now have more data points, and this is the picture they paint:
Honestly, ladies… Carrot Top? Wouldn’t you be afraid that he’d pull out a wacky prop at the crucial moment? I can’t imagine that the cab ride home would be a high point in your life after that. I can say that Rosie O’Donnell is probably pretty happy that more women want to smoke her pole than Hitler’s.
Finally, I would like to remind everyone once again the Dogs on Drugs is up for Best Writing of a Weblog in the 2013 Bloggies. And Hall of Fame Commenter (and all around swell egg) Vesta Vayne is up for two, including Weblog of the Motherfucking Year. If I were to win, I have made the following promises:
- I will publish the sex tape I made with Jessica Alba and Natalie Portman
- I will publish a picture of myself
- I will not nuke the planet out of spite
- I will not mail you a sack of weasel shit
That’s pretty good, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I can do better. So, if I win the Bloggie for Real Good Writin’, I also promise to maybe do some of the following:
- Slap Lionel Richie with a paternity suit. The fact that we are both male will make this the funniest court case of all time.
- Fuck the paternity suit, I’ll just slap Lionel Richie, period. (He’ll have to wait until I’m done with Peter Cetera, though.)
- Out of a sense of symmetry, I will dig up Vincent van Gogh and cut his other ear off.
- I will run around my neighborhood four times, dressed as a large pickle.
Hey, now that I think about it, I might actually do one of those if I win. Better get my slappin’ hand in shape.
Ok, that’s it. It’s a another new week. Go out and live it to the fullest, but only after you vote a few hundred times…