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. Frank’s bloody mattress would look great on a bunk bed.
At first glance Hellraiser doesn’t seem like a family film. Upon further inspection, it most surely is. It speaks to the value of maintaining proper contact with loved ones, the cause and effect of strife in one’s life, and that one must always be careful around hooks. I think the general mood and quality of the average American family could benefit from a communal Hellraiser experience. Perhaps once a quarter. Grades are low Son, let’s watch Pinhead rend flesh and get us back on track. Honey, considering leaving me for your Supervisor? Enter: Frank and blood justice. Father, putting too much time into your gadgets? Witness the Lament Configuration and the fallout of its use. Daughter, considering a pubescent romp with the next door boy? Mattressfucking will get you nowhere. This reinforces the old Benjamin Franklin quote “Cenobites fuck shit up”.
2. I’ll take the Asian kid.
I’m concerned about the paperwork involved. When I bought a turtle I had to fill out a series of forms assuring I wouldn’t fuck, shoot, eat, or sell into the slave trade my beloved little shelled partner. I have heard horror stories about the adoption process. Sometimes I think a nice young person would be a sensational impulse buy but like many things I get remorse after a big purchase. I rarely keep receipts so it’d be frowned upon if I got bored of the thing and left it at the landfill or let it collect dust in the closet. Some folks value children. That said, when they’re young, ethnic kids are adorable but like many reptiles they become unruly and less cute when grown. I think that’s why there’s a sale, because at retail price kids are like boats. You love to rent ’em but should never buy ’em.
3. Deer: The Ultimate Intruder.
I understand why some people hunt. I don’t always like it, but I understand it. Within reason. What I don’t understand is the big business that goes into the world of animal murder. The Bass Pro Shops are a huge business and I must admit I love their clothing selection. They’re good stores. But the periphery of the hunting world is fucking ridiculous. Take for instance all the target practice animals. Dozens of plastic effigies exist to be shot, stabbed, arrowed, and karate kicked in an effort to make the Average Joe much more of a slaughterhouse in shoes. This product is called INTRUDER because when one thinks of a deer they think of a malicious animal whose main plan involves sneaking into places with a bad attitude. Often in a ski mask. Don’t be fooled by their primal fear of most things and extreme skittishness. Deer are intruders and mean nothing but harm. Hence the term Bambi Qaeda. Better yet this product’s main edge above the competition is that it boasts a larger vital organ zone for one to practice their ritualistic mammalicide on. You don’t want the intruder to die a slow painful death, do you? You want it to die a quicker, but no less sad and dishonorable passing on its way from the love of the forest to the cold hate of your Man Cave wall.
4. How can you love something that doesn’t exist?
First off all, it’s great to see someone hating illegal immigrants and championing secure borders in a beater car a migrant worker wouldn’t be caught dead in. Secondly, “I Love Secure Borders”? That sticker exists? Who doesn’t love the idea that we’re safe from sneaking bodies? But of all the things to fear you’d think it wouldn’t be regular folks just trying to have a crack at a better life for themselves. That’s how WE got here and by WE I mean people who were total assholes with entitlement issues. Better people than me have said it better, but someone who snuck in from Mexico (or God forbid… CANADA) is probably not gunning for your job or your wife or your spot at the mall. Go fuck yourself.
5. The Trifecta!
This dude must be related to the Secure Borders dude. Look, your political affiliation is irrelevant. Be who you want to. Just try to be it quietly and without instantly causing people who may possibly be great potential friends to hate your fucking fat face. A Mitt Romney sticker (which if lenticular would swipe to reveal “OOPS!”, a NOVEMBER IS COMING, and a “I Don’t Believe the Liberal Media” sticker. It’s like this fellow instantly wants to disregard half of the people he comes into contact with before they even exchange names. Also, I can bet on what some of the things this guy believes in (yep). The “Liberal Media” at worst is a nuisance. Unlike this fellow.
6. For the Hate of Benji.
You overvalue your dog, Human Race. You buy clothes for them. You carry them in stores. You have designer items created for them. Some people fuck their dogs. They fuck them. Back in the day there was that cute song “How Much is That Doggie in the Window”. That song didn’t think eventually people would be putting XY on themselves and then going into their dogs. The people who risk my life and my kid’s lives by riding around with their dogs on their laps are unforgivable. Distracted. Inconsiderate. Dangerous. The worst are the Bull Mastiff owners who ride with their dogs on their laps. They don’t exist but it’s a funny image. What I’m saying is that if your dog leaps off your lap and has its face squished by my car I can’t be held accountable. Or for when I ram my face through you for having to explain to my 8 year old why the “little dog was under us and then bump and then half”.
7. Least fanfare ever.
Dude probably deserves more credit than a cursory remark on a license place where Georgia typically puts the county name. For example, maybe a flashing neon sign that says “I was tortured by brown men so think twice before cutting me off!”. Or maybe a “I Shit Bigger’n You” in one of those “Baby on Board” suction things. How do you not pull next to this person and stare into their leathery squinty sad eyes and wonder how the thick it got for them. In the hole. Strange voices in the night. “Are they planning to kill me? Am I going to be under one of them? When will I eat warm food again?” Crazy shit. This fellow went through some shit. Meanwhile you’re in traffic losing your mind because you may be late for the bank’s 2pm deposit deadline. I’m afraid to pull up, because what if I look like a captor. That’s the end of me. I’m soft. I’ve lived a sheltered life. Dude would be picking beard hair out of his stool.
8. Can you spot the differences?
This is a step closer to where all these publications should be. They are assimilating. For now it’s the same exact picture but soon it’ll be just one big lump of shit and piss that makes a fart sound when you pass it on the aisle.
9. The Tall Man’s got a new ride!
This is how the sausage is made in the farewell business. Coffins don’t come by R.I.P.S or DeadEx. Trucks take them to the funeral homes where they shove cold men and women into them before sending them down for forever. People work hard transporting these craven giftboxes for use. We don’t want to see it but it’s there. By the time you read this that box is underground with a thing in it that used to eat steak.
10. No kidding, one of the better magazines devoted to black powder shooting guns.
The good thing about a bimonthly magazine devote to muzzleloaders is that they can focus on content. They don’t have to get swept up with all the day in and day out news and developments of the business but focus on what people really want to read. Monthly, or by golly, WEEKLY muzzleloader publications are all about “who’s dating who” and “what guy is loading what weapon with what” and “what gun is firing where and why” rather than the intrinsic concerns and minutia about loading muzzles that speak to us as a people. Additionally for that $5.50 there’s the extra TLC given to making sure the best photographers of weapons that require black powder to be shoved in the front have everything they need to capture the perfect still image of an obsolete murder artifact.
By the way: