I take photos of dumb shit. Some of you do too (submit yours HERE). Life’s too short and there’s too many dumb things out there to allow it going unnoticed or people not getting called out for it. This is where I shine a light at fools, loons, hypocrites, and in many instances my own dumb self. If you dig this, please share it on FB and Twitter (links right above this) or participate in our message board thread devoted to it.
1. We’re Looking for a Few Awful Men.
I wish the term “Snuggie” was trademarked before the creators of this nightmare had a crack at it. They could have named it so much better:
The Aging Cloth.
The Fattening Shawl.
The Give Up Hope Blanket.
The AIDS Quilt.
Midian.
It’s too easy to make fun of this war crime. It’s like shooting Katherine Hepburn in a barrel. But the camouflage adds another wrinkle to this catastrophe doesn’t it? What exactly is the point of looking like Ding Chavez on the couch? Since the target audience of these products are the elite of the elite lethargic people of the world it’s so much harder to spot the excess burger and snack food detritus you’re drooling on your rapidly expanding form if you are covered in chameleonwear. How the hell is the pizza deliveryman going to sleep at night with the vision of a crumpled up twenty emerging from the depths of the forest at him?
The people at Snuggie are secretly building an army of roly poly couch ninjas. We need to step in.
2. Maybe it’d be easier to move the deer to Saturn.
This speaks volumes about us. Well, it speaks volumes about people who aren’t me.
3.Well it’s a less creepy name than Fuddrucker’s.
The statute of limitations passed, the original name for Arby’s was finally public domain again and someone could launch a chain bearing the classy and memorable Beast Kitchen moniker. Here’s hoping it catches on. I personally can’t wait to see what their kids play area looks like.
I hope they don’t use the same contractor Chick fil-A used for their Fag Holocaust Beanbag Slamhouse.
4. Because nothing screams ESCAPISM AND MOVIE MAGIC like “Marketing Visionary”.
It sure does cut through the who “we’re creating entertainment” hokum, doesn’t it. Basically this poster is telling parents that they are being sold a bill of goods and not to expect one iota of anything resembling genuine creativity or value.
5. There are pantsless kids in Ethiopia yet…
There are several things here that give me pause. First of all I think Tara Reid has proven to us that you can’t talk with nuts in your mouth. Secondly, catching a squirrel is damn thirsty work. The success rate is next to nil. To actually catch one and wrestle undergarments onto it has a success rate lower than George Dzundza’s gym membership usage. Thirdly, once you catch one the last thing you want is an obstacle between you and that irresistible squirrel poonany.
6. The Shut-In Two Pack.
Everyone who owns a worn copy of a “50 Shades of” book is guaranteed to have one thing: Cats. Lot’s of them.
7. Now your child can look like Brian Dennehy!
I haven’t checked the statistics but I believe a child raised wearing these has a less likely chance to succeed than people born with cleft stomachs, porno feet, dungeon butt, palsy of the soul, weak skulls, dick flu, whipped eyes, lamb pox, cornea friskiness, bone bombs, chronic plummets, shitty cheeks, watery nails, ass erections, cornhole fatigue, and Thomas Ian Nicholas.
8. What killed off the Mayans.
Sounds like a great Jewish gay porn flick.
9. Pretty much a prerequisite.
I’d like to pre-order a Sean Bean, please.
10. I was totally on the fence until this sign.
Only in Florida would there be billboards from God and shit like this. The gall that this would have any bearing on anything is baffling.
11. Truth in assvertising.
No Mas Molestias! OK, this may be the best combination of words and images since issue #32 of Moon Knight.
12. The Wettest Country?
Guess Ghidorah’s being incontinent again!
13. That face. That hat. That career. How has natural selection not stepped up and taken him out?
I’m torn between being wracked with hate for the continued career of this bipedal diarrhea festival and being thrilled at the just desserts scenario of a career where this project became a necessity.
14. Really short, flatheaded girls at least…
“Do you remember your first time?”
“How could I forget! It was prom night. We’d rented the bendover suite at the Marriott and Kevin made me a roofie parfait before literally sticking his dick in me.”
“That’s like something ripped from a Choose Your Own Adventure.”
“But it’s real. I flipped to page 39 and instead of escaping an iguanaperson I was beneath the grunting form of a redshirt Freshman with a lot on his mind.”
“And look at you now. The proud mother of an eighteen year-old who is already balding.”
“What about you, Deidre? When did you first feel the sensation of something barely in you?”
“I remember it like it was yesterday. The moon was at a half crescent. I was in love with Walt Whitman, afloat in words and a future unbound. Enya crackled through tinny Emerson speakers in the truck latched to the aftermarket atrocity I lay in. I didn’t have room to blink but I could hear that music piping through the aluminum coffin Grant had bought with his taxidermy money. He and I sardinefucked for nineteen immobile minutes before he released his yield and my tears lubricated him out the back gate.”
“Neat. Now let’s go hit the Lane Bryant.”
By the way:
