We men don't have 'guilty' pleasures

From the Frisky by John DeVore

Men don't have "guilty pleasures." We own, nay, celebrate what's bad for us. Our obsessions are points of pride, not shame. You'll never see a guy wolf down a small mountain of waffles with a side of bacon and squeal, "Oh my gosh, I can't believe I ate everything! I'm so ashamed."

We will shamelessly sit in a nest of pizza crusts playing video games for endless hours. Unabashed tears will crawl out of the corners of eyes when the hometown team chokes at the last minute. Beer will be quaffed, their caloric potency mocked. These are the things that make life worth living.

Feeling bad about feeling good, even if the good is short-term, is for puritan chumps. If I could, I'd go out everywhere in my sweat pants.

Of course, overindulging has its prices. Sloth and gluttony are venial sins for a reason. But the whole idea of "guilty pleasures" is something that is lady-specific. Women feel shame over even tiny little hedonistic infractions.

I dated a woman once who was very much my type -- hot nerd -- who was deeply embarrassed over her celebrity trash magazine addiction. She actually tried to hide her US Weekly's from prying, judgmental eyes.

Eventually, I staged an intervention that went a little like this: "Please, woman, own your love of snickering over pictures of Hollywood stretch marks!"

This is not to say men aren't susceptible to social pressures, and masculine stereotypes. There are things that, while not "guilty pleasures," are ... minor vices. Things we are into that contradict standard male operating procedure. After all, one cannot live on bacon and beer alone. But a lot of guys find themselves infatuated with hobbies, media, and creature comforts that don't really fit the lumberjack mold. I'll wager many ladies are the quiet guardians of their man's not-really-secret, but not-really-public, quirks.

I am not ashamed of anything. This is why I will admit to the following minor vices, and in the process, teach women that they can be loud and proud when it comes to the hours spent rehearsing pucker faces in front of the mirror. Boldly rock your "guilty pleasures."

Bubble baths

Anyone got a problem with that? I love bath salts, bubbles, fizzy stuff that promises to magically transform your bathtub into a sauna. The whole kit and caboodle. There is nothing I love more than a good, frou-frou soak. Heck, maybe I'll light a votive candle too.

Quiche

I ate it this past weekend, in fact. That's right. I shoveled French egg pie into my mouth. Yes, quiche, a food that sounds like an inappropriate bodily sound. It was delicious. It had spinach in it, and I washed it down with sparkling water.

Sure, I could have eaten something drenched in cheese, or deep-fried. But the moment called for something sensible, delicate, and... flaky, okay? Quiche is awesome.

Reality TV shows about shallow women

A recent minor vice has actually entered my life. Every Tuesday, I eat Chinese food and watch "The Real Housewives of New York." Have you seen this show? It's like an open invitation to hate on women.

Is this really popular female wish fulfillment? All that chattering, and glittering? They are a bunch of bedazzled banshees that suddenly make me understand why the French guillotined all the rich aristocrats!

Sigh. While I'm not overly susceptible to gender norms, I think I need to go to the comic book store, or hit the shooting range.

Vintage Boosh 8

Boosh Hall of Fame: Cpt. Bartholomew 'Black Bart' Roberts

Piggybacking off of the recent Piracy post by the indominatable Chai T (Three time winner of People Magazine's 'Sexiest Man Alive' Award) and last night's episode of 'Deadliest Warrior: Pirate vs. Knight' on Spike TV*, I feel it is high time to induct a man after my own heart, Captain Bartholomew 'Black Bart' Roberts, into his rightful place in the Boosh Hall of Fame. In a time where the name 'Pirate' is being daily sullied by douche-bagging Somalians in fishing boats, it is important that those of us who still regard said title and profession with the esteem it deserves look to history as a source of inspiration. Enter the notorious dread pirate Black Bart.

Bart was a Welshman, which in of itself makes him sassier than 99% of human beings who ever have, do, or will live. He was born on May 17 in the year of our lord 1682 and spent the majority of his young adult life as an 'honest' sailor. Fortune would have it that Roberts became Third Mate on a slaving ship out of London called the 'Princess' (GAAAAAAY!!!). In 1719 it was anchored off the west coast of that delightful little continent called Africa when it was attacked and captured by a pair of pirate ships under the command of Howell Davis. Roberts was forced to join Davis' crew. At first, Roberts was repulsed by the notion of becoming a common pirate.

Becoming a Pirate Captain however, was all well and good. So roughly six weeks later, he became one. He would spend the next 3 years etching out his niche in history as possibly the baddest ass to ever sail the seven seas.

Now, we're probably all familiar with names like Blackbeard, Captain Kidd, and Jack Sparrow (who I will go to my deathbed regarding as a real historical figure). Truth be told however, Black Bart put them all to shame (except jack because...well come on, he fought the Kracken with a cutlass).

Blackbeard: In his roughly 5 year career, Blackbeard captured roughly a dozen major ships, 5 of which came all within a few weeks of each other during the blockade of Charleston harbor.

Captain Kidd: In a roughly 12 year career, Captain Kidd had only a handful of skirmishes and captured only two major prizes. He was actually tried and executed all the while vehemently denying he was a pirate at all. Which no self respecting pirate would ever do.

Black Bart, in roughly three years, captured 470 ships. Let that sink in for a moment. 470. If yer reaction to that is anything less than silent awe and slight sexual arousal, i want nothing tho do with you. Black Bart became so notorious that the govenors of the Caribbean colonies (Representing Britain, Spain, Portugal, France, and Holland, all of whom mind you HATED each other) pulled their wealth to hire a large fleet of independent 'pirate hunters' whose sole purpose was to hunt down Roberts and destroy him, ignoring all other pirates until this mission was accomplished. This was during he golden age of piracy people.

When word reached him that the navies of 5 of the world's superpowers put aside their differences solely to find him and open a cask of whoop ass, what do you think Roberts did? High tail it out of the Caribbean for the safer and more fertile waters off the coast of Africa? Find a nice abandoned island with a deep lagoon and lay low til the heat was off? Maybe abandon ship and comandeer (nautical term) a less recognizable one? These are all legitimate guesses, and all things that would make sense to a rational human being. Black Bart however, was not rational. He was a Pirate. So rather than do any of the above, he decided to hunt down and kill the French governor of Martinique. Why? Because that wig-wearrin land lubber really pissed him off thats why! Roberts found him alright....aboard a French Man-o-War. Problem? Psh. Hardly. Roberts laid the proverbial smackdown on the Frogs and hung the Lord Governor from the main sail of his own ship. If you aren't aware of how badass a feat this truly is; a Man-o-War at the time was armed with 124 guns. Roberts' ship was a Bermuda Sloop. Armed with 24 guns. Boosh.

All good things must come to an end however, and eventually Black Bart's luck ran out. On the 9th of February 1722, Roberts had captured the heavily laden merchant ship 'Neptune'. As per tradition, he and his men celebrated by getting completely and utterly shit-faced. By the morning of Feb. 10, they were still drunk, and still drinking actually. So what should appear on the horizon but a British Man-o-War (remember, 124 guns) the HMS 'Swallow' (again, GAAAAAY!!!) In their rum-addled state, Roberts and his men weren't able to identify the ship until it was right on top of them. By then they had one chance of escape, sailing past the 'Swallow' (GAAAAAY!!!!) and exploiting their own ship's superior speed in order to affect a hasty escape. Apparently, navigating an 18th century warship while under the influence of 12 hrs worth of rum isnt so easy, and Roberts' intoxicated helmsman actually steered the ship CLOSER to the Swallow (GAAAAAY!!!!).

As all 124 guns opened up with a barrage of hellfire, Roberts' terrified men scrambled for cover. Roberts himself however, apparently did not believe that discretion was the better part of valor. Maybe it was bravado, maybe it was the rum, but whatever the reason, rather than hide like a pansy, Roberts straddled a cannon and flipped the colonial era bird to his attackers. Thus with 12 pounds of steel AND a cannon between his legs, Bartholomew 'Black Bart' Roberts took an entire broadside worth of grapeshot to the torso and died the way he lived, drunk off of his ass and calling an Englishman queer.

Fortunately Roberts' men were still sober enough to remember, and fulfill the final request of their Captain. Before the British were able to board, they wrapped Roberts' body in chains and tossed it over the side of the ship, thereby depriving the Limey Wankers of their trophy.

So Captain 'Black Bart' Roberts, we the loyal crew of Boosh International salute you sir. I for one hope this small token of our admiration brings yer soul a small measure of solace as it burns for all of eternity in Hell. Because lets face it, if you aren't in Hell, there's probably not a God. Id be nervous that yer tormented spirit may haunt me for making a comment like that if i wasnt 100% sure that you agree. And if you did haunt me, we'd probably just come up with a way to get yer ghost drunk. Boosh.

*NOTE: In case you missed last nights episode of 'Deadliest Warrior: Pirate vs. Knight,' watch the below video for the results! The battle re-enactment is definately Boosh worthy!

What Grinds My Gears: "The Wedding Tax"

A wedding is an important day. It transcends time and space and, ultimately, affects the intrinsic value of things. I'm referring to, what I like to call, "The Wedding Tax." I have seen it from a safe distance during my many years in the "event and party" business, but only now am I experiencing it first hand.

Take a cake for instance. Go to any bakery and say that you want a cake for your brother's 26th birthday. Say that he likes strawberry filling and fondant icing. Oh, and his old fraternity brothers are coming as well, so a 2-tier would be ideal. "Haha, you know what would be awesome, if I played a joke and put a groom on top, damn would he get a kick out of that!" Get your price quote $100? $150? Reasonable, i'd say. "Oh, B.T.Dubbs, Throw a bride on top too...this is actually a wedding cake." WATCH that son of a bitch baker's eyes grow firm and angry as he aggresively doubles the price.

DO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT A BRIDE FIGURINE ON TOP OF AN EFFING CAKE COSTS $150!?!?! Of course it doesn't! They do it because they can...because all of the "If-I-don't-get-married-now-I'll-never-have-kids" women will pay anything in their mad frenzy to marry their man before he looks at her mother and realizes she is a ticking time bomb of ugly. Multiply this by the whole midwest, and you get this Wedding Tax.

STORY TIME!!: My fiance was attempting to get her dress altered yesterday at a place which shall remain nameless...for two seconds: Sun Tailoring When quoted $200 for the alteration, my fiance asked (presumibly in a sweet and innocent way) "Isn't that a bit pricy?" "Hello! It's a wedding dress! If you don't like the price, take it somewhere else!" was the tax collector's reply. On a normal dress, the price would have been closer to $50.

Price fixing is an inherant part of our economy...but this 50-200% increase really grinds my gears!

What Piracy needs.....Is me!!

Some music to set the mood:

Without a doubt you are all familiar with the headlines reading of the bothersome and down right dangerous coast of Somalia where 'pirates' are hijacking ships and holding people for ransom. For the first time in a Century 'pirate' has once again become a household term. But this is a very disturbing thing to me. You see, back in the day, the mention of pirates made men shake with fear and envy, and made the nether regions of women tingle with mystery and delight. But today the mention of pirates conjure up thoughts of malnourished teenagers who smell like sewage and gallivant around in small fishing boats waving automatic guns....unacceptable!!!! The time is upon us to recapture the pirate name!! So join me in my conquest to return pirating to its rightful place of rum swilling high sea adventuring swagger inducing badassery!!

THE PLAN:
-Meet at JFK international airport at a time to be later specified.
-Board a plane to the island of St. Martin
-Steal a large replica ship from the 18th Century
-Arm ourselves with traditional weapons, rum, and clothing to the effect of Black Beard
-Locate an uninhabited island with a deep lagoon

THE REQUIREMENTS:
-Be willing to follow the plan
-Be open to heavy drinking
-Be open to copious amounts of sinful activity including but not limited too looting, pillaging, killing, sword fighting, unprotected acts of intercourse, and yelling profanity from the yard arm.

In no time the headlines will read: "'Pirates of the Caribbean' Comes to Life" New group returns piracy to its sexy nature!" We will drown out the Somalis

Undoubtedly we will be forced to take on a multi-national naval task force, but fear not, for our allure will protect us, CNN will read "...in other news, entire platoon of SEALS jump ship to join roving gang of swaggering swashbuckling pirate studs"

We will once again leave a legacy that Piracy is truly a calling for the brave adventure-seeking lads that live inside all of us. So stand together and say no to Somalia and yes to escapades of captain morgan induces jackassery the like of which the world has never seen....to the high seas ye mateys!!!!!!!

Boosh Hall of Fame: General Sir Banastre Tarleton

We've all seen the movie "The Patriot" starring household name and raging anti-semite Mel Gibson. I trust you all remember the ominous antagonist Col. Tavington of the Dragoon Calvary yes? Well, splendid, because that murderous vagabond is actually based on a real person. Colonial era badass Banastre Tarleton and his myrmidons, known as Tarelton's Raiders, are legend in the American Revolution for completely disregarding all orders of civility and grace by slaughtering everything from South Carolina to New Jersey. Banastre had a particular method of ruthlessness that included taking over farms, killing the men, raping and killing the women, taking the children telling them bedtime stories and killing them, and taking the slaves, making them work, telling them they are then free, watching them walk away, then killing them. Revolutionary lore has it that Banastre would test the sharpness of his sword on entire towns near Charleston. On May 29, 1780, Tarleton, with a force of 150 mounted soldiers, overtook a detachment of 350 to 380 Virginia Continentals led by Abraham Buford. Buford refused to surrender or even to stop his march. Only after sustaining heavy casualties did Buford order the surrender. What happened next is cause of heated debate. According to American accounts, Tarleton ignored the white flag and mercilessly massacred Buford's men one by one.In the end, 113 Americans were killed and another 203 captured, 150 of whom were so badly wounded that they had to be left behind. Tarleton's casualties were 5 killed and 12 wounded. The British called the affair the Battle of Waxhaw Creek, while the Americans knew it as the Buford Massacre or the Waxhaw Massacre.

Not only was Banastre a marauding slayer of the innocent, he was a massive playa as well. He seduced and married actress Mary Robison, the 18th Century Angelina Jolie, on a bet!!! Despite her wishes they had no children. After he was bored he married Susan Bertie, the illegitimate daughter of the 4th Duke of Ancaster, for the money....and nothing else. His brothers, Clayton and Thomas, ran one of the largest Slave Trading Companies in all of Britain. In vehement support of his kin, Banastre was know for his particularly wry and inappropriate sense of humor towards abolishonists, often mocking them for their beliefs before slitting their throats while simultaneously forcing slaves to perform "womanly duties" on him in front of his dying victims. "The last thing those fairy abolishonists will see as they bleed out are the slaves they tried to save servicing my British hog!", proclaimed Banastre.

One insanely BOOSH moment in his life was portrayed in the film where he locked and entire town in a Church and burned it to the ground. His reasoning, to avoid tarnishing his new uniform. BOOSH!!!!!

His demise was equally fantastic. During the Battle of Cowpens, Banastre's forces were on the verge of complete annihilation by Daniel Morgan and the Colonial Regulars. In one of histories greatest booshes, Banastre told his remaining Dragoons to assault the left flank of the Colonials saying they were weakest there. As his men charged forward he slowly drifted to the back, and when out of sight, turned and high-tailed it out of there as his men hit the strongest flank of the Colonial advance. He returned to England a hero, living in luxury. Our hats are off to you, you master of BOOSH. History will hold you in high regards Banastre Tarleton!

The Boosh Hall of Fame: David Caruso

Keep it fresh? Keep it new? How about keepin' it Caruso! He knows what works, and does it...chronically. He's comparable to the autistic child who can tell you how many words you can make out of your last name, but doesn't know what any of them mean. I am, of course, referring to the immortal, and coveted, "Sunglasses + One-Liner". This revolutionary combo is one for the history books. There is no lead in that goes missed.

Dead body on the roof: "It seems ten stories ::takes off sunglasses:: just wasn't enough for this building"

Dead hooker covered in bees: "I'm going to investigate the brothel on 9th ::puts on sunglasses:: see what all the buzz is about"

Not giving fair warning when getting a blow job: "How's that taste ::puts on sunglasses:: Bitch"

The SGOL can only be done by someone who has 0% self doubt, 100% balls, and doesn't care where his sunglasses are, as long as they aren't where they just were. START - GLASSES - PUNCHLINE - OUT! David Caruso, we salute you!

Just...too far

I have found that when it comes to current political matters, I am totally agnostic. In New York I'm conservative, in Virginia I'm liberal, and in Texas...I'm probably just a "damn yankee." I don't care if you are an Elephant, a Donkey or what...if you are an asshole, You're are an asshole! The mindless blatherings of Rush Limbaugh are disturbing, and even more so, his army of mid-western bible-preachin', dial-up internet, county-fair-dwelling drones are a clear exhibit of the world's hatred for America.

Usually this "prophet of stupidity" just rambles on about conspiracies and racism, but this little gem actually made me sick and angry simultaneously (kinda like being force-fed a stick of butter while watching Kevin Federline bang your girlfriend.) So here it is, not only has he compared the Somali Pirates killed in the recent hostage situation to the "Beltway Pirates" for "stealling Trillions from hardworking Americans," but he also commented on Obama's apparent regret for ordering the death of the Pirates, or as Rush pointed out, "Black Muslim Teenagers." It is ABSOLUTELY EFFING RIDICULOUS that one could think that race and religeon have anything to do with the Commander in Cheif's decision to resolve national threats. If there was any issue at all, it was international law. I doubt Al Sharpton has any intention to drag his helecopter crew and [inflatable?] podium to the Somali coast to protect the human rights of PIRATES! You mess with America, you die or get humiliated on YouTube. Just...just don't do it...

What Grinds my Gears? The Perpetual Shit-Talker

The Perpetual Shit Talker.Dear Perpetual Shit Talker (PST),On behalf of everyone you have ever met: Co-Workers, family, and supposed 'friends,' please shut the f*ck up! Right now.

Sincerely, Chris 'Gonzo' Watson

Let me be absolutely clear about something from the onset: no one enjoys dry, caustic sarcasm as much as yers truly. If you do not participate in, or at least appreciate this kind of humor, i will probably find you quite boring and have very little to discuss with you. My closest friends and i often pass the time by sitting around and tearring each other new ones, laughing hysterically all the time. That being said, understand that PST is a different breed than those of us who enjoy the occasional good natured rib fest. Every single word that emanates from this pompous buffoon's talk hole is an offensive and annoying declaration that you, the target, somehow rank lower on the totem pole of humanity than they do. When you first meet the PST, you'll be fooled into thinking that he's just trying to get a rise out of you. Or maybe just has an odd sense of humor. Or maybe, if the PST in question is of the opposite gender, that he/she has a tad bit of a schoolyard crush on you. Whatever the reason, im sure its all in good fun right? No one could possibly be this blatant of an ass-hat. Certainly not in public, in front of everyone. I mean who doesnt bitch about every single person they know in the privacy of their own inner circle? Thats what this country was founded on after all. This kind of in-your-face relentless insulting has to be just this persons idea of a joke. Right? Right?Wrong!

As time goes on, it will become slowly but inescapably clear that the PST's verbal spew is not just 'all in good fun.' Or maybe it is, but to no one but him. While at first you may find it amusing, and after the amusement wears off, you may be able to tolerate it, eventually you will tire of the bullshit. You will try to make this fact obvious to the PST by every means at yer disposal short of punching the douche in the face. Let me save you the time and energy, it wont work.You see, the PST views the world through a lens tainted by a different color than those of us who actually have some regard for the feelings and personal space of others. In this bizzaro version of the universe, the PST sits at the epicenter. The president, the emperor, the king. He is Michael Jackson, and the rest of us are blundering Tito's who exist solely for his amusement.You can try playing his game if youd like. Next time PST attempts to lay the verbal smackdown, come back with a retort of yer own and see what happens. If youd rather not waste the valuable oxygen, i'll tell you what will happen. Nothing. Yer comeback, regardless of how clever or scathing it may be, will simply go in one ear and out the other. The PST will smirk, look down his/her nose at you, turn around and strut away with a cock-sure swagger. Even if you managed to insult him, his family, his acestors, and call his sexual orientation into question all in one breath. Because remember, this is his world, hes just allowing you to live in it. Even if yer insult does register, it doesnt matter. Because if he wanted to, PST could ruin yer life. Even tho he only sees you a few times a day, five days a week in the office and knows nothing of you or what makes you tick in the real world.

Whats the most frustrating aspect of this denizen's personality? Its not the unwavering ignorance, cockiness, or even the '82 Datsun he drives. Its the fact that his insults arent even that good. Despite having enough self assuredness to power the city of Los Angeles for 10 years, the fact of the matter is that PST is a f*cking dumbass. In a battle of wits, you are armed with a Panzer tank and he is armed with a pile of feces. But like a really, really idiotic Franz Kafka, he simply refuses to acknowledge that the tank is real, and this somehow makes him impervious.

Ive come to the conclusion that theres only one logical way to deal with this type of putz. Purchase a few bathtowels, a few dozen oranges, and some clown masks. Get some of yer buddies together, put on the clown masks and each of you wrap 2 oranges in a towel. When PST is dropping his post-lunch deuce, walk into the stall and re-aquaint him with reality.

Or, if violence isnt yer thing, you can bitch about it on some lame ass blog to an audience that probably doesnt exist. The choice is yers.

Survival++:Candiru

This is the most disturbing survival++ to date. If you ever plan on visiting South America, READ THIS ARTICLE. What I am about to tell you may shock and disgust you but have no fear, The BOOSH International is here to help you. The Candiru fish is one of the smallest parasitic fish in the world, however in the nether-regions of the Amazon it is the most feared of water dwelling creatures, even more than the piranha. Why you may ask? How can a fish that grows only up to 15 cm, a fish that is as thin as a toothpick, how can it be so feared? One reason my friend. It swims up your crank, eats through your urethra, and drinks your blood while holding itself in place with spikes. You read it right, these penis pirates will swim up your urethra to feed on your blood. Seriously, this fish LOVES THE KAK. Adults can grow to around 15 cm with a rather small head and a belly that can appear distended, especially after a large blood meal. The body is translucent making it quite difficult to spot in the turbid waters of its home; aka you wont see the little pricks (pun absolutely intended) coming straight for the genitals. There are short, sensory barbels around the head, together with short, backward pointing spines on the gill covers. Meaning once they go in they cant come out unless they feel like it. You cant win, no matter how tough you are. WARNING: The next section may shock you, only the strong willed read on.

These little taint ticklers are parasites. Their ability to detect respiratory currents in the water allows them to swim into the gill openings of other aquatic species,and/or your hog, where they feed on their prey's blood.

While the members of the subfamily Vandelliinae feed on blood, members of Stegophilinae may feed on scales, mucus,carrion, or any other item they find lodged in there from your college days.

The Candirú lies in wait at the river's murky bottom, searching for its next host by sampling/sniffing the water for expelled chemicals, such as urea and ammonia from the gills of other fish or from the jacka** that pees in the water thinking no one notices..... believe friend... they always notice. Once having detected a fish and or vacationing douche with his wang bobbing around, with a burst of speed the Candirú darts towards the gill cavity and/or peehole and lodges itself in place with its spines. Then, with usually fatal consequences for its victim/your makak, the Candirú begins to gnaw a hole towards a major blood vessel and gorges itself for no more than a few minutes. It will then dislodge itself and sink back to the river bed in order to digest its food and wait for its next meal.

This fish may not be the deadliest creature, it may not be the biggest or most intimidating, but rest assured coming into contact with this animal is something you never want to do. So how to you survive it? Simple, dont go in the water, ever.....I mean ever....

You could try wearing a prophylactic, hell I'd even suggest double bagging it considering how relentless these gooch gobblers are. You could also hook several car batteries together and shock the water before entering but then you run the risk of killing every living organism there, not sure the local tribe would approve, but who cares, they're only natives.....

Bottom line, this is not a funny survival++, this is a serious matter. Dont let their size fool you, the Candiru is not your friend. For the love of God protect yourself.

Vintage Boosh 7

Survival++ Cuttlefish

Thats right America, you read correctly. Cuttlefish. I know what yer thinking. Yer looking at this picture and thinking "Gee, that thing doesn't look very threatening at all." Yer also probably thinking that any creature with 'Cuddle' in its name must be absolutely delightful and certainly not plotting the eventual doom and/or enslavement of you and yer entire species, right? Of course you are. Because yer naive. As was I before I researched exactly what a Cuttlefish is and what they as a species are capable of doing.

Cuttlefish are liars. They aren't even fish. They're mollusks, closely related to the common Squid and Octopus. They're also the planet Earth's next dominant species. Don't believe me? Read on.

You may have encountered a Cuttlefish if you've ever visited SeaWorld, Marineland, or some other water-world themed attraction. You probably saw it floating lazily around a 'petting pool' amongst starfish, rays and other beguiled guinea pigs and bunny rabbits of the aquatic world. Mayhaps you even took it upon yerself to pet the Cuttlefish. Woe be unto you if you have, you've only inflamed its hunger for human flesh. It has yer scent now. If you or yer issue are unlucky enough to still be walking the earth when the Cuttlefish rise up from the briny deep, they will come for you.

You see, scientists are just now beginning to understand how smart the Cuttlefish really is. They're smarter than Dolphins. Smarter than Chimps. They're even smarter than roughly 53% of the population of the United States. When Marine Biologists first began studying the Cuttlefish, it was thought to be nothing more than an underwater slug with a central nervous system that told it to eat and reproduce. Then, slowly but surely, we began to learn.

Cuttlefish, much like chameleons, can change color at will. Oh, how nice. They must use it to hide from predators. But wait, Cuttlefish also rapidly change color around other Cuttlefish. Oh, this must be a very primitive method of communication. Primitive you say? Hardly. When analyzed via time lapse, infrared and computer technology, it was discovered that Cuttlefish change their color faster than the human eye can process it, and they also change to colors that are imperceivable to the naked eye and can only be seen with the aid of aforementioned infrared technology. But why? For the love of God, why? Isn't it obvious? The Cuttlefish are communicating with each other. Communicating in a way quite possibly more advanced than any other method of communication known on Earth.

Let that sink in for a moment. Now take into account that there have been numerous recorded incidents of Scientists leaving the lab at night, with the Cuttlefish 'subjects' securely in their tanks. The lights go off. The door is locked. The Homosapiens return the next day to find their test subjects...gone. Vanished like flatulence in the wind. Not just one or two, but all of them. sometimes they are found huddled in the corner of the lab, mind you still alive on dry land for an untold number of hours. Because apparently, Cuttlefish can store water in their skin and survive out of their natural habitat for several hours. Other times, the test subjects were never recovered. Where did they go? I have a theory. I believe they returned to their watery citadel to share with their brethren the stories of how they were mistreated and abused by those hideous, hair covered, land dwelling Humans. Thereby fueling the proverbial fire of revolution stirring for centuries in the Cuttlefish spirit.

Sounds crazy doesnt it? But the fact of the matter is, groups of Cuttlefish routinely engineer daring escapes from sea labs and amusement parks around the world. And this means that not only do they communicate with each other...they can ORGANIZE!!!

It gets worse. Many type of Cuttlefish are actually poisonous. They have VENOM people! They can also shoot ink, much like their less threatening cousins the Squid. Ink that can permanently blind a human being if shot directly into the unprotected eye.

There is a theory, a dark and ominous theory floating around that the only reason the Cuttlefish have yet to evolve into a species on equal or greater intellectual par as humans is that the average Cuttlefish lifespan is only 8-10 years. Time it would seem, is on our side. For now.

But if Darwinism has taught us anything its that evolution wont wait around forever. And while the Catholic church would like you to believe that human dominion over the earth is assured by divine will, i for one am not convinced.

So this is survival++ right? I bet yer waiting for some advice on how to counter the Cuttlefish threat.

The answer is simple. We have to eat them. Eat them all.

Cuttlefish is considered a delicacy in many Asian countries and is often served up as a crunchy deep fried appetizer similar to Calamari. Until Cuttlefish advance to the point of being able to develop effective anti-Japanese fishing boat technology, we have the upper hand.

The problem is this: Cuttlefish is not a popular dish in the west. That means that roughly half the world is not supping upon the delicious, albeit evil genius seafood dish. This means that we are not consuming the mollusk bastards at a quick enough pace, and therefore the attempt will only serve as an attempted genocide of their people whereas successful genocide is what is needed. We must at the very least decimate, if not completely obliterate the Cuttlefish population in vats of deep fried greasy goodness in order for this strategy to work. Otherwise, it will backfire and once the Cuttlefish dominate the planet, they may be inclined to deep fry you instead of merely putting you into some sort of petting zoo for their children to gawk at.

So gobble it up America, really go for the gusto. Next time yer at Red Lobster, ask why Cuttlefish isnt on the menu and demand that it be so. If that doesnt work, start ordering yer Cuttlefish from Japan via the internet. Remember, seafood induced mercury poisoning is temporary and can be effectively treated at yer local hospital. But human subjugation by a breed of super-intelligent revenge driven mollusks from the dark underwater abyss, that is forever.

In the meantime, I will assume you do not take my words of warning seriously, because people rarely do. That being said I hereby make the conscious decision to abandon all hope and will plan to welcome our octo-tentacled overlords with open arms when (not if) they arrive. And when Im living out the remainder of my days in relative comfort as a pet inside the opulent palace of the Cuttlefish Viceroy of the North American Colonies and yer all slaving away in underwater algae farms, don't say I didn't warn you.

No retail gloom in N.Korea as women shop for dresses

LONDON (Reuters) – Fashion stores in high streets around the world may be suffering from the global financial crisis, but in communist North Korea women have gone on a dress-buying spree.

"Korean dress shops in Pyongyang are bustling with customers in the current spring season," the state news agency KCNA reported on Friday.

Workers had their hands full dealing with a deluge of orders, it said

KCNA quoted a worker in the Ryonghung Korean Dress Shop as saying: "All of them gasp their admiration for the graceful and fascinating costumes on show in the sample room."

The economy of reclusive North Korea is firmly in state hands and foreign analysts say it faces chronic problems, including food shortages.

The channeling of resources to military spending, including a missile program that has alarmed the West, has contributed to a dearth of consumer goods, they say.

KCNA, however, routinely lauds economic progress and extols leader Kim Jong-il for his inspirational leadership in all areas of society.

Unusually, he was not mentioned in the dress-buying report but KCNA noted: "The streets of Pyongyang, seething with a new revolutionary upsurge, look bright with beautiful women in chima jogori (Korean woman's skirt and coat) which give off national lyricism and aroma in spring."

Cops: Exotic dancer blitzed by rival with stiletto

AKRON, Ohio – Ohio police say a 52-year-old woman was attacked on her first day as an exotic dancer by a jealous co-worker wielding a stiletto heel.

Akron police Lt. Rick Edwards says the woman was assailed Friday night by a co-worker who didn't think the club needed more dancers. Police say one of the dancers took her stiletto and repeatedly struck the woman in the face as she walked into the basement dressing room.

The woman was treated at a hospital and received seven staples. She has declined to press charges against her assailant.

Police say the woman took the job because she needed the extra money. She has refused to talk to police about what happened

Vintage Boosh 6

What Grinds My Gears? By Chai T

The cat that lives in the gutter below my bedroom window.

Where to begin. I live in a nice comfortable third floor apartment overlooking a pool. The head of my bed is up against a nice set of windows that provide a soothing mix of evening sounds as I sleep the night away. It wasn't until a few weeks ago that my girlfriend woke me up to a sound that quite honestly scared the living crap out of me, and after being introduced to that sound, it wakes me every night. That sound is the sound of a stray cat that is either in perpetual heat or has lyme disease (yes I've researched it) and lives in the gutter 3 floors below.

I remember the first night this cat woke us up. We were startled as we tried to figure out where and what that awful noise was. Its a sound I can only describe as somewhere between a boy whose legs have been cut off and who has been bleeding out for several hours and an animal with severe throat cancer. Its a God-awful sound, truly. In fact the first time I heard it I thought it was the devil coming to collect my soul for all my wrong doing. Now I only wish that was the case and not this damn cat.

Every night for the past week and a half, right around 3:30 am, when I am in my deepest most restful sleep. When all my cares and worries are gone, while my body repairs itself to take on the next day, this EFFING mangy little cat starts crying and moaning as though someone was cutting it in half. Opening the window to get a better look I spied upon this little wretch. It is gray, dirty, and matted. It appears as though someone dragged it through the state of New Jersey and left it to live under my bedroom window; I've come to loathe this cat.

Nothing will get rid of it either. I've tried yelling, banging pots, hell I'm even the douche bag who was barking out his bedroom window at 3:30am trying to get this cat to leave, so if any of you reading this are from my complex I apologize now. I would have sent my dog down had it not been for the fact that my dog is a 10lbs walking vagina with four legs named Herschel. So the other day in a fit of desperation I went to Home Depot with a brilliant idea. I bought a cinder block......just one. As I was cashing out my single cinder block the cashier, a nice young lady, asked me why I bought one cinder block and nothing else. I replied calmly that I was going to use it to kill a cat. She laughed as I stared at her stoically emotionless until she realized how serious I was.

Lets just say the logistics of killing a cat with a falling cinder block prove harder than first thought. For starters, there's the whole girlfriend wondering why the new bedroom decor includes a cinder block. Then there is the issue of getting it out the window accurately without scaring the furry &$#%head away only to come back once you've gone back to sleep. You have to admit though, killing that cat with a silent drop of a cinder block is amazing...can you image that noise being muffled by small thud as the cinder block hits the moist ground......music to my ears.....at this point I am becoming desperate. If there weren't so many lovable animals around I would try rat poison, hand grenades, or as a friend recently suggested, grinding up glass in cat food, but for now I am reduced to yelling curses at this cat. I pray every night that sometime soon this cat will meet its fate at the hands of a Goodyear all-weather traction tire, but so far no luck. If nothing happens soon though I am afraid I may be forced to up the odds on this cat and purchase a high powered air rifle.....only time will tell.....until then.....

Chai T

Survival++: Velociraptor

Raptors. Hollywood make-believe or Cretaceous Period death-dealer? You are probably all familiar with the Jurassic Park superstar Velociraptor. It's hard to forget their forays into mischief like eating an entire cow in a matter of seconds, unsuccessfully killing two children in a kitchen, or just roaming the woods like the unseen badasses they are. Good times right? You are probably chuckling to yourself right now as you think back to the days when you and your friends would get together, drink Mountain Dew, and watch Jurassic Park when your parents went to bed right? Well good...laugh... because you are only moments away from death! Unknown to most people velociraptors still present a very serious threat to your life. In order to survive these hellish miscreants one must first establish that they are a real threat. Why, right now there is a velociraptor watching you from afar, and the only reason you arent dead is because it's not hungry. There are two raptor scenarios that you may encounter.

Scenario 1: Surprise Attack
The most common type of raptor attack occurs outside in a field or jungle. This is where the creature thrives, and where you are the most helpless.
You cant out-run a Raptor. As one of the fastest dinosaurs, raptors have been known to briskly trot at speeds exceeding that of your average "douche riding a crotch rocket to impress the ladies." Be aware of your surroundings and make sure you're in good physical condition. You cant outsmart them either, so don't even try! As seen in Jurassic Park, (which we consider a documentary) Game Warden and raptor expert Robert Muldoon (what some believe is an alias for Randall Munroe, also a raptor expert) was outwitted when he thought he had one of these beasts cornered. Instead, they had hoisted him by his own charade, which brings me to my next crucial point...Watch your flanks! Raptors are known to attack from the sides so ensure that you and your fellow survivors are always back to back. Trust me the last thing you want is to feel the hot breath of a raptor on the nape of your neck.

The best contigency plan for open-range attacks, is ensuring that you are always within a few quick steps from a secure location. Our friends over at xkcd have given a good example on how to size up a potential safe house:

Once in a house, your life expectancy goes up instantly, but not enough to pour yourself a Martini (unless you've given up and want your last taste to be a Martini). It's vital to remember that raptors are capable of opening doors but are not so efficient at picking locks. A hearty deadbolt or two should do the trick, but only on steel door frames. A traditional wooden door is comparable to a plastic Easter Egg. Finally, it doesn't hurt to have guns stashed in random locations, because let's face it...guns are your only true hope if you are taken by surprise in an unfamiliar area.

Scenario 2: Attacked in YOUR House
This is the ideal scenario. Preparation is ALWAYS the best defense against nature's dangers, that is what "Survival++" is all about! I, again, will refer to our expert researchers at xkcd (if you didn't click the last link, seriously, don't miss it this time!) who have compiled a good google search list to get started on preparing for a velociraptor attack:



So, the raptors are in your house, bunker, or wherever you happen to be hiding. If they make it past the steel front door with triple dead-bolt or the bulletproof picture window, you have them right where you want them. They obviously wont find you in the livingroom, because you are effing prepared! You and the family are down a long hallway in the "Contingency Room." Besides the obvious barred and plated windows, this holiest of shrines has two doors, first door is a normal wooden door with a very raptor-friendly handle. Note, for this obvious decoy to be effective, EVERY DOOR HANDLE IN YOUR HOUSE MUST MATCH! The second door is made of solid steel and dotted with claymores. The smart bastards will eventually narrow their search to your fortress. Provided they make it past the trap doors and spike pits in the hallway, the sly fiends will take a face full of claymore when they open that decoy door. All you need is an axe and a block of wood, and you can mount that sucker's head right above your bed to remind your wife of your superior cabability to protect your family! Trust me, she'll never be "too tired" again.



In closing I would just like to point out that if you don't plan ahead, you and your kin are EFFED. Raptors are better than you! That means smarter, faster, stronger and meaner! Fighting off a Raptor is like Rosie O'Donald fighting off lesbian jokes, you can try all ya want, but they're....they're gonna get ya. Oh, and don't worry about your hallway. You defeated a pack of raptors, you can probably drive nails with your bare hands...

Written by Chai T and SKRAMACE

Survival++: Zombie Apocalypse

I knew a man who once said "The hardest part of the Zombie Apocalypse will be pretending Im not looking forward to it."

The guy was a total wanker who has contributed about as much to the human race as a braindead cockroach. But lets give credit where credit is due: Truer words were never spoken. I don't care who you are, where yer from, or what socio/political status you fall into, if theres not at least a small, unspoken of part of yer psyche that longs for the Zombie apocalypse, you sir or madame, will not survive it and are therefore so much fodder for my sawed off twelve gauge.

Lets be completely honest with each other here people: If there are any cons to living out the remainder of my days as a leather armor-clad badass roaming the highways of the good ol US of A with a band of other badasses in a convoy of stripped down assault vehicles, laying the smackdown on hordes of undead while repopulating the earth with genetically superior (because lets face it, we survived the effing zombie apocalypse) offspring, I have yet to think of them. And I challenge anyone to present me with a reasonable negative that I couldn't debunk.

And heres a dose of reality. Nuclear war. Stem cell research. And Voodoo. Its only a matter of time before the Zombie apocalypse is upon us. I for one, cannot wait.

Unless of course, we're talking Romeroized Zombies. In which case, we're all totally F-d.

What Grinds my Gears? Mini 'That Guy/Girl'

You know what im talking about. The gaggles of pre-pubescent high rollers that thug about the local mall, theme park, or malt shop. Now i remember what it was like to be that age and how important being 'cool' and 'grown up' seemed, but folks, this is getting out of hand.Take the young ladies for example. Why are11 and 12 year olds walking around dressed like theyre on their way to dry hump tool bags at the Cell Block? This is creepy, annoying, and wrong on so many levels.

And i hate to be 'this guy', but here it goes: Parents. Come on! Im all for letting kids 'establish their own boundaries, make their own mistakes and live their own lives,' but there is a clear and distint line here people. In case you dont know where that line is, its where yer 11 year old daughter leaves the house wearring a mid riff bearring tank top with a playboy bunny on it. In case you still arent following me, do this. Log onto the internet. Go to yer favorite search engine, and do some research on exactly what it means to "superman" and/or "supersoak" a ho. After youve recovered from the initial shock, ponder the fact that not only does yer preteen daughter and her friends know all the lyrics and the accompanying dance to the Soulja Boy song, but she also has it set as her custom ring tone for that nice boy Bobby down the street shes been spending so much time with lately. Think about it....think about it....there it is! Now after youve rinsed the vomit from yer mouth and tears from yer eyes, regroup and formulate an effective plan for handling yer business.

Now as for the mini 'That Guy's', this is more annoying to me personally. Why? Because women are more mature then men. Most girls will eventually grow out of the wannabe Paris Hilton phase, but guys are different. If yer a tool at age 12, chance are ye'll be a tool at age 21, 35 and 47 as well.

So listen up DJ Backseat. We all know yer texting yer mom on that Boost Mobile cell phone to pick you and yer 'crew' up from the mall so you can make it to the 5:30 showing of Paul Blart: Mall Cop, and we arent impressed. Try and see things from my perspective here junior: You have 2 years before you start getting acne, 4 years til you can drive (with an adult), 6 years before you can buy cigarettes, porn and lottery tickets, and 9 years before you can legally walk into a bar. By that time, those 'rinestone' studded Jackie-O sunglasses you dropped a cool 30 bucks on at Hollister will have gone the way of the Trucker hat. But that wont stop you from wearring them, will it?

I sometimes think the ancient Spartans had it right. Had these mistakes been hurled off a cliff at birth as Zeus intended, we wouldnt have people like Kevin Federline walking around today. But since for some reason this is now socially frowned upon, i propose the following: Whoever the primary male role model in the lives of these miscreants are, grab yer scrawny charge by the scruff of the neck, drag him into the backyard, and proceed to beat the douchebag out of him with the garden hose. if you dont, hes gonna grow up to be a jager-bombin, pink polo-wearrin, collar poppin, new haircut-havin, man tan-sprayin, tribal tattoo-havin, too much abercrombie and fitch cologne-wearrin, grindin his piece of every piece of ass that walks in that door and then posting the pictures on myspace toolbag. And thats not good for anyone.

What Grinds My Gears? by SKRAMACE

We live in a world where fashion and functionality are one in the same. I am talking, of course, about the iPhone. The iPhone is the ultimate "LOOKATMEIMNOTPOOR!" status symbol...that is if you are a superficial, insecure bitch. Now, I know our loyal followers are saying "Hey, I have an iPhone and I'm not an insecure bitch!" My friends, you are correct...I am referring to a totally different demographic from you fine people...

I overheard a conversation the other day where this girl was going on and on about her "Apps" and her "Wi-fi." Nothing new really, but I later realized, IT WAS AN IPOD EFFING TOUCH!!! It didn't even have headphones. Who carries an iPod around without headphones? I'll tell you who. Someone who can't afford to pay for the iPhone's exorbitant data plan, but still has enough dignity to blow on a device that COULD BE MISTAKEN as the elusive iPhone. In retrospect, I should have faked an asthma attack, looked her in the eye and sputtered "Quick...your phone...911!" No big deal, there are enough insecure bitches in this world, I'm guaranteed to find another.