I'm simply an idiot when it comes to giving gifts. Fortunately I'm also an idiot when it comes to relationships, cooking, breathing while I sleep, and converting carbohydrates into energy by breaking them down into glucose, so it all evens out. I take pride in my inherent consistency, an ability to pinpoint the exact moment in time when I'll spectacularly fail at a particular task. Whenever holidays or birthdays roll around, I find myself wandering aimlessly throughout crowded malls, searching for something non-toxic which I can gift wrap and claim came from the bottom of my blackened heart. This usually works if I make my "I'm trying to appear sincere by acting as if my ass was just shot with a poison dart and I'm just barely choking back the tears" look, which is the same facial expression I used to convince my college Materials Science teacher he should give me a D- instead of an F for my final grade. Now you know the story of why I'm a webmaster instead of a bearded recluse mixing chemicals in a sterile laboratory to create chocolate speaker cable!
Fortunately the Internet is here for me in my time of deepest need, much like the abused lover I never had. I recently found myself sitting around and wondering what to purchase my father for this Christmas, such as an electrical Baby Jesus figurine that automatically cries and smites Egyptians when powered on. My brain raced in circles as I contemplated gifts that would appeal to his refined interests, but I was unable to track down a company that manufactured golf balls with pictures of Bill O' Reilly on them. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a section of my monitor which would forever change my outlook on the gift-giving procedure. My email inbox, a large chunk of hard drive space devoted to storing "OMG U SUK UR NOT FUNNY AND I'M GONNA KILL U" messages for future generations who will undoubtedly cherish such historic treasures, had deviated from its previous pattern of providing me with utterly worthless shit and instead began greeting me with holiday cheer! I was receiving hundreds upon hundreds of emails tantalizing me with wonderful Christmas gift ideas perfect to bestow upon my loved ones, assuming I had anybody in my life I loved besides the Internet. This was truly a Christmas miracle, the kind of stuff Hallmark Moments™ are fashioned from, and I wouldn't be doing my job as a caring, emotional, generous member of the human race if I refused to share these wondrous gift ideas with you, the reader. So without further ado, I would like to present a brief list of the hottest and most popular Christmas gifts, at least according to the hundreds upon thousands of emails sitting in my email inbox:
Electric Scooters - People love scooters and they sure as hell love electricity, so why not combine the two and purchase the perfect gift: an electric scooter! I cannot count the number of times I have been sitting around on my fat ass and spotted something shiny and alluring in the next room, yet lacked the necessary motivation and lower body strength to support my overpowering girth en route. "Oh if only I had an electric scooter!" I would remark to either my computer monitor or coffee mug of pencils. "My dreams of a life with minimal physical exertion might finally be realized if I owned an inefficient and unreliable device unable to fit through my doorways!" Although I may not have mentioned it in the past, I've spent a good portion of the past decade researching a way to convert my body into an entity of pure energy, not for the sake of evolution or anything, but simply because I love electricity and really hate shaving and putting on pants every day. An electric scooter probably won't shave you or help you wear pants, but it will consume a certain amount of electricity while moving you from point A to an indeterminate point somewhere between point A and point B. If you're feeling really fancy you can decorate the sides of the electric scooter with colorful phrases such as "STEP ASIDE: VIP COMIN' THROUGH!" or "I BRAKE FOR IMPORTANT AARP VOTES," but that would require an electric scooter paintbrush and I haven't seen one of those advertised in my email box yet.
Something Written in Some Kind of Secret Martian Code - Most of my email have subject lines like this one, which I am copying and pasting because I'm too lazy to make it up: "6TTzQZM1fHZEWFDwgTggKfkvxXIv3RcaKVJD". Now I don't pretend to be some marketing genius who graduated from high school and lives in some fancy Raytown apartment, but I don't understand who would ever willingly purchase a product spammed to them with a subject line of "6TTzQZM1fHZEWFDwgTggKfkvxXIv3RcaKVJD." Do the advertisers actually think something like the following may occur?
HUSBAND: "Hey honey, I'm writing a letter to the kids. Is there anything you want me to include?"
WIFE: "Oh, send them those pictures of our trip to Niagara Falls! They'll love those!"
HUSBAND: "Okay dear, let me get those and - HEY! Hold the phones! I just got an email about 6TTzQZM1fHZEWFDwgTggKfkvxXIv3RcaKVJD!"
WIFE: "The ship of good fortune has truly come in for us! Quickly, purchase their product and / or service!"
HUBAND: "God bless you 6TTzQZM1fHZEWFDwgTggKfkvxXIv3RcaKVJD."
This particular email was written to me by some genius individual named "Resistant B. Puritanically," so if you Wall Street folks are looking for somebody to launch your advertising campaign into fourth gear, give Mr. Puritanically a call on his mind phone.
A Bigger Dick - The penis is truly a gift that keeps on giving. Men like having bigger dicks because it gives them a longer range and arc when peeing into a urinal at important sporting events, which is the most important factor determining their self worth (besides the size of their SUV). Women love bigger dicks because I've seen a whole lot of pornos where the ladies make erotic comments along the lines of, "oh baby, I want it, give it to me" and I'm fairly sure they weren't referring to the man's collection of rare Canadian coins. Well they could've been, but that would've been one of the most awkward recorded robbery attempts in the history of mankind. The point I'm trying to make here is that a big dick doesn't just benefit the males of society; it also pleases the ladies almost as much as buying them a new dress to wash the dishes in, one that has a special hole for the babies to fall out of. Just look at a few of the instances demonstrating the infinite benefit possessing a bigger dick can lead to:
GROCERY STORE CHECKOUT LADY: "Your total is $63.23 sir. Would you like to pay with cash, credit, or charge?"
YOU: "Let me grab my wallet here and see. You'll have to pardon me, sometimes it's difficult pulling out my wallet because it gets blocked by my gigantic penis which I am forced to wrap around my body due to its ungodly girth and ability to penetrate steel walls."
GROCERY STORE CHECKOUT LADY: "Oh dear Lord, take me right here right now you dreamy hunk of man meat! Also let me pay your utility bills for the next three months."
PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES: "It appears as if we're on the brink of a nuclear war with China. A terrorist has stolen an atomic bomb and is threatening to detonate it if we don't give him one billion dollars in liquid gold. I don't know what to do, and my advisors said I should probably consult with you since you have such a large dick and all."
YOU: "Give me the gold and I will deliver it to him, thus saving the world."
PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES: "Okay, I will entrust you with this one billion dollars in gold because you have a large penis and are therefore trustworthy."
YOU: (Driving off with the gold) "So long suckers!"
PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES: "I've been bamboozled again, all due to that man and his gigantic mesmerizing dick! Get off my plane!!!"
A Letter From Santa - I'm not quite sure how this Christmas gift works since last time I checked, Santa Claus refuses to use the Internet except to periodically login to his Adult Bouncer account. Apparently there are tens of thousands of blessed individuals out there who not only have a direct connection with Mr. Claus but additionally possess the ability to make him produce a constant stream of personalized letters for them, possibly in exchange for a scientific serum that counteracts the deadly poison coursing through Mrs. Claus' veins. This is a wonderful gift to share with your children assuming your kids are impressed by emails from somebody named "email@example.com" who lacks the ability to spell "Christmas" more than two consecutive times. Perhaps if you pay these people more money they will guarantee to not include explicit photos of teenage lesbian pornography in their letters to your kid while signing them up for prestigious "HOT COCKS N' TWATS" holiday mailing lists. I guess it's never too early to teach your children about sexuality, and if you wait too long they may grow up to become famous homosexual set designers, so this could prove to be a useful service just as long as they don't tell the authorities.
Low Mortgage Rates - As a proud homeowner I am well aware of the importance a low mortgage rate plays in my life. Sometimes at night I'll wake up covered with cold sweat shouting interest rates that are lower than my current mortgage. "3%! 3.9% 4.75%" I'll shriek in a sleep-induced haze. Then my two cats will begin meowing nonstop and my two dogs will start barking continuously, causing me to contemplate suicide because, Jesus, how many stupid animals do I have to own before I realize I'm using them to fill a gaping void in my soul which will never be complete? I may not know the answer to this question but I do know that a low mortgage rate is something straight out of my dreams, and I'm talking about the dreams that can make quite a mess if you know what I mean. The Internet is known far and wide as the most reputable place to obtain affordable loans and banking services, which explains the popularity of anonymous financial emails from people named "Super Kurt" using third-world ISPs with names like "GULAG.NET." A recent exciting offer promised me a mortgage rate of 1.9% while asking, "Do you want to see how easily your monthly bills can decrease and disappear with all the extra money you have every month?" Well hell yes I do! Those dead hookers don't pay to bury themselves!
Printer Ink - Everybody likes to print stuff out! One of the fastest growing industries in the world is the printer cartridge industry, second only to the heroin industry and the Elmo doll industry. Technically that would put it in third place, but I like to claim this makes it second best in being second place. My mother alone uses roughly 90% of the printing ink on Earth due to her tendency to print out every single item she can find on her hard drive. If there was some method she could use to print out her 20-second long phone calls she makes to me every hour, I'm sure she'd do that and fax them to me along with a brief note summarizing her phone call ("I bought your dogs a toy," "something I saw on television reminded me of your website," "are your dogs still members of the canine family?" etc). I would feel rotten teasing my mother about the amount of times she calls me, but I take solace in the fact that she will call me today and do that job for me, thus saving time and effort. Although I may have gotten off track here, the fact remains; printing ink is the most expensive thing in the world and a ton of companies make a ton of money from them because all they do is use an eyedropper to place one milligram of ink inside each cartridge before shoving them into a container marked "EPSUN" to avoid copyright infringement. I once tried to make my own printer cartridge by breaking a pen and placing it inside a dinner roll which I crammed into my printer, but that didn't work so well.
Low Cost Prescription Medication - In this fast-paced day and age of hover cars and ironing boards, most of us lack the time to spend waiting in line for some careless doctor to stare at the rash on our neck and then triumphantly announce we have AIDS. I have to make, on average, two separate trips to get any medication these days, and that's just for the legal kind. I want a fast and easy way to purchase the prescription narcotics of my dreams without leaving my electric scooter, and I don't want no snooty doctor telling me what pills I should or shouldn't abuse just because I may or may not have an allergic reaction to them which may or may not cause me to vomit up blood. I've heard a lot of good things about this new drug named "V1AGRA" or "VIA_GRA" or "/ 1 A GRA" or something like that, and I'd like to purchase a large quantity of it as soon as humanly possible, preferably through the reliable and safe medium of the Internet. I'd also like to start getting addicted to those painkillers that Rush Limbaugh took to make his ear blow up, so if you know how I can get ahold of some of that shit, please email me. Nothing says "holiday cheer" quite like a bottle of Xanax wrapped in urine-soaked newspaper!
The Paris Hilton Sex Video - I had no idea who Paris Hilton was before she decided to have sex. I still don't know who she is but now I am well aware of the fact that she had sexual intercourse with at least one member of the male gender, and I feel very sad for this man because I've seen photos of her face and it looks like God stapled a big nose onto a skeleton as some really bizarre practical joke that only He and a few of His apostles would understand. Fortunately for all of us, the Internet encourages the dissemination of footage depicting ugly people having sex, and we now have the ability to see a big-nosed skeleton laying on some guy for the low, low price of whatever they're charging for such a visual travesty. Sex represents one of the basic primal forces in mankind, so feel free to purchase a few Paris Hilton sex tapes to watch with your wife and kids while resting in front of a warm fire. "See kids, that's called 'oral sex' and men enjoy it greatly," you could confidentially comment while pointing towards the television. "Now ask your mother why, with this information in mind, she hasn't given me a blowjob since the Carter administration."
Ultimate Colon Cleansing Kit - We all have dirty colons, some filthier than others. For example, my colon is an absolute wasteland of pork fat and Shamino acids that I got from the shrine of Honesty after I used the incorrect mantra. I also once saw this documentary on the Discovery Channel and I think it mentioned we all have millions and millions of microscopic mites crawling over our bodies and eating our skin like a buffet line, so that probably has something to do with something. I have done extensive research on the Internet for colon cleansing, and various people with new age names have informed me that this process is essential to living a healthy life free of physical problems and worries. These people all seem to have horrible hair styles, so I refuse to take their advice and will only recommend purchasing a colon cleansing kit for those "hard to shop for" people in your life like the ghost of Groucho Marx.
With all these great gift ideas, it's no wonder the Internet is number one! If you're feeling overwhelmed by the elbow-to-elbow crowds in the malls and don't want to risk driving your car off a cliff while traveling to the mall, just open up your email client and take a look at some of the hottest holiday gifts this year. Resistant B. Puritanically will thank you.
Camping the Rape Demon Spawn
Zack "Manchurian Candidate" Parsons here with a slippery new hentai game review for a change of pace RPG hentai game entitled "Brave Soul". This new title is apparently selling like hot cakes, but I still can't figure out why!
The third or second quest involved a dungeon crawl through a dungeon packed to the gills with the sinister red shopkeepers and nefarious puzzles. The action sucked, the puzzles sucked, and meeting up with another stupid character that runs off to go bake a cake or find adventure in a better game sucked. Something about a scroll maybe, I don't know, when I came out of the stupor I had a white-knuckle grip on a combat knife and enough self-inflicted gashes on my arm to scan "sorrow" at a checkout line.
Please go read this article now so my babies don't starve!
We're not going to solve gun massacres with bad manners, people.
The guns are gone. Now what happens to all those paper targets? Don't tell me you forgot about the paper targets. The ones hanging from little clips on fancy clotheslines at shooting ranges. With no guns to destroy these legions of paper bastards, they go unchecked.
A sign proclaiming "BACTA: DA FUTURE" marks the town's medical clinic
1998: I upload dave.pcx, and change the course of history
Set goals for yourself, and fulfill them. Absurd! Only in video games!
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.