A bunch of people with beards on the History Channel think the world is coming to an end in December. You’ve probably got your meth basement all stocked with water and tuna fish by now.
Instead of focusing on the negatives, let’s take a look at some nouns that will finally get what’s coming to them.
Ford Mustangs: She’s a 16-year-old skank with a fairy sticker on her back windshield. She smokes, her mom has yellow teeth and a boyfriend, and she can’t drive worth a sh””t. Like her mother, she has no respect for gravity and sleeps without a bra. She weaves in and out of traffic in a race toward teenage pregnancy. Your grandparents will never see her coming.
Then, you have the jerk who spends $20,000 to soup up a $4,000 car. It’s definitely one of the uncool year models, like a ’94 or any year after that. He has it fine-tuned to sound like a Klan rally every time he backs out of the driveway. He works at the skating rink, has a tongue ring, and can’t wait to show his ‘Stang to your 15-year-old daughter, especially if she has a fairy sticker on her back windshield.[pullquote]Pull quote: She weaves in and out of traffic in a race toward teenage pregnancy. Your grandparents will never see her coming.[/pullquote]
Ice Cube, Ice-T, and Smirnoff Ice: “We ain’t got no milk!” “Is snakes out der dis big?” No matter which Ice Cube quote you type in, spell-check will try to fix it.
Stupid is no longer cool. Your career was carried by more talented rappers, actors, and comedians. Luckily, your cube of fame has melted down to an occasional beer commercial and B movie.
Ice-T is a less-talented version of Ice Cube. The only good thing about him is that he is named after a deliciously refreshing beverage, which is more than I can say for Smirnoff Ice. This crap has been giving teenage girls the thunder squirts for far too long.
New Jersey: Never been there, can’t imagine ever having a reason to go, unless everyone’s wiped out first.
Grapefruit: Since there is no fruit shortage, and scurvy is no longer a threat, just go ahead and drink orange juice. Or you could feed a pirate SweeTarts and Sour Patch Kids all day and let him piss in your mouth “” same taste as grapefruit.
Lifehouse, The Fray, Rascal Flatts, and the rest of ’em: My heart is broken, my heart is bleeding! No, you’re a puss. Just be honest and tell the world that you write songs in hope that they will end up on Grey’s Anatomy. Maybe if you could do one pull-up, you’d harden up a bit and go get yourself some “strange.”
Highlighted hair, zero muscle, and shirts with thorny flowers on them: This is what happens when everyone gets a trophy! And we get it, Jack Johnson, you love the F chord, but you’re dangerously close to being thrown in with the group above. Each of your testosterone-draining songs sounds exactly the same, but if you make another song about pancakes, you’ll be tossed into the pit.
Stupid Abbreviations and Word Combinations: Brangelina is on vacay with the Biebs! This gives me the redass.
Man-made Global Warming: Nature is finally going to rape us back. All those selfish mothers who haul their four kids around in gas-guzzling SUVs because a suckass Nissan Leaf isn’t practical or big enough will finally meet their match: a 200-foot wave! We’ll finally be out of the way so ice, fault lines, and volcanoes can get back to destroying sh””t with much greater efficiency.
Mondays: They always blow. I just want a cup of coffee while I prepare myself for another week of this sh””t.
Don’t schedule a meeting with me before 9 a.m. on a Monday. If I wanted to hit the ground running, I would actually take the f””k off. You have 39 more convenient, more emotionally stable hours to choose from. It can wait until after 9.
See you on the 22nd!