Boring As Heck

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Bourbon’s Bastards: Dispatches from the Edge

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. It was if the words themselves were a fist, and my gut was my mind hearing the words, but instead of hearing them, they were feeling them, because the words were a fist, and my mind was a gut.

“It’s not long enough.”

The editor – my friend, my confidant, my drinking buddy (bourbon, natch) – he spoke these words to me, coughing them out like smoke from a cigarette – the type of smoke you exhale after a sip of fine bourbon.

I sat there, still, silent – like a still, silent glass of bourbon.

“What?” I finally managed to exclaim, in a smooth, bourbony voice.

“The piece. It’s good… but what if it was 4000 words longer, and you talked about bullfighting for some reason?”

Bullfighting. The bourbon of sports. Of course.

• • •

Madrid. 2005.

I fought through the crowds and entered the gaping maw of the arena, readying myself for the bloody spectacle to which I was about to bear witness.

The matador’s entrance drew a deafening roar from the bastards in the stands.

He danced with the bull – I was watching a myth being written in front of my own eyes – the eyes of a writer. The end came suddenly, and with a crimson flash.

I felt a wetness on my face. Tears, dripping like the wax seal on a bottle of Maker’s. In the midst of the fury, I had come to love that bull.

It was as if I had imbibed a potent concentrated brew: 1 part awful brilliance, 1 part brutal truth, 1 part the dog episode of Futurama.

• • •

The high seas…

Would anything ever be the same?

I had struggled with the marlin for hours, a maddening battle reminiscent of Vimy Ridge. We fought until the sun rang the horizon’s doorbell.

My wife Karen told me to hurry up. I told her that maybe I would have caught the fish faster if we had sex more often.

God, I needed a bourbon.

That trip had changed me, as it had changed my wife (8.5, 9 on a good day).

• • •

Bourbon…

“The nectar of the Gods,” I thought, as I savoured that first sip, and the second one, and the first gulp.

“That is, if God ever existed at all,” I also thought, immediately after the first bourbon thought.

I slammed the bottle down like a matador would slam down a bottle of bourbon. The red cape… I see now why the bulls are so haunted by it.

The woman in the red dress still stalked my dreams, her every move sending me into spasms of ecstasy.

Bewitching. Impossible. Achingly beautiful.

Hell’s own damn bastard, Satan himself, the bastard, couldn’t keep me from her.

I pretended my fist was her vagina and started jacking off my boner.

• • •

The bombs had gone off at 2:49.

4 hours into the race.

Most of the people left were really shitty runners. Like, I mean, they were okay, but nothing special.

What a powerful image.

• • •

I sat in the restaurant, waiting for the celeb to arrive. I was going to interview the celeb, and she was hot.

The whole damn restaurant nearly fell out of their chairs when she entered the room. She smiled at me, and sat down. Every man in the place was extremely horny and jealous of me.

I ordered a bourbon and a steak, rare – bloodied, really. She ordered a glass of wine and a steak, rare – bloodied, really.

She was hot as hell. It was hard to look at her face because she was so gorgeous. But I still looked at her, because I was a writer, and that was my job – to look, to learn… to love.

I sipped my bourbon. She sipped her wine. I asked her if she liked bourbon. She said it was okay.

I shifted in my chair, unsure of myself – confused, as a child would be.

The waiter brought over our steaks – dripping with blood. If the steaks had ever had a relationship with fire, it had been a short one – and they probably had really bad sex, which was almost certainly the fire’s fault.

We spoke of bullfighting, of bourbon, of steak. Once again, I asked her what she thought of bourbon. She didn’t really seem up for talking, but whatever. I had my bourbon and I had my steak.

She left – a beautiful phantom, etching herself in the collective memory of the room. The bourbon was good, and I drank it.

When Genocide is Permissible

Uh, never?

Return to Mock Draft Island

 

 

Darren Rovell Visits The 9/11 Memorial Museum

Note: Darryl Darren, if you’re reading this, it’s a joke. It’s not a real thing. Do not attempt to contact a university official. Do not email yourself and ask if you wrote these tweets. These are not real tweets. It’s fake. It’s a parody. 

@darrenrovell: $24 to get into 9/11 Memorial Museum. $9.11 would make more sense. That’s the date the terrorist attacks took place.

@darrenrovell: 9/11 rescue workers receive free entry to the museum. I did not receive a discount despite my nearly 500,000 Twitter followers.

@darrenrovell: Man standing next to me in “Remembering the Children of 9/11″ exhibit is wearing hilarious Mark Sanchez t-shirt.

@darrenrovell: The museum is hemmed in by a grove of 400 oak trees. Asked our tour guide the minimum amount of trees required to constitute a grove. He said he’d get back to me.

@darrenrovell: Female museum staff members averaging a 7/10. About what I expected. Attractive, but not distractingly so.

@darrenrovell: No Baja Blast in museum cafeteria soda fountains. Disappointing.

@darrenrovell: Designer of 9/11 memorial ribbon made an excellent choice going with red, white, and blue.

@darrenrovell: Common mistake: It’s “The Pet Goat,” not “My Pet Goat.” Sales of the book shot up 176% in the months following the terrorist attacks.

@darrenrovell: I will never fail to be impressed by the sheer courage it took to postpone a full week’s slate of regular season NFL games.

@darrenrovell: Interesting fact: 9 divided by 11 is 0.81818181818. (H/T @fart_gun)

@darrenrovell: No exhibit dedicated to the yearly memorial tweets of multinational brands. I will have to imagine the tweets in my head. Nice one, Cheerios. Good job, Applebees.

@darrenrovell: 2,606 people died during the collapse of the World Trade Center. That’s nearly 218 times more people than the average NBA roster.

@darrenrovell: 9/11 gift shop a major faux pas. Museum design doesn’t force you to exit through it.

@darrenrovell: Just remembered the Budweiser commercial where the Clydesdales kneel in front of the New York skyline. Fun fact: those horses were all computer generated.

@darrenrovell: 9/11 Memorial Museum a somber, sobering experience. I now truly understand the sacrifices made by those brave few. Never forget.

@darrenrovell: Minor league baseball team to hold Kanye/Kim wedding night promotion. (H/T @greg_147)

 

 

On The Canucks

I’ve had some time to process last night’s monumental collapse, and I believe I’ve come up with an eminently reasonable solution to this team’s problems.

Fire everyone.

Fire the coach.

Fire his assistants.

Fire the GM.

Fire the assistant GM.

Explain to me what exactly it is the director of player personnel does, and then fire him.

Fire the scouting staff and replace them with me. I will use a Hockey News magazine and the internet, and I will do a better job.

Fire the equipment manager.

Fire the trainers.

Fire the PA announcer.

Fire the guy who designed the jerseys.

Fire the entire marketing department.

Trade every single player in the organization. I don’t care what you get in return. Get the stink of this franchise off of them. They’ve done nothing to deserve this.

Fire the guy at Rogers Arena who makes the mini donuts. Every time I eat one, I taste four decades of failure. Way to go, assholes: you’ve somehow managed to ruin mini donuts.

Travel back in time and fire the guy who thought it was a good idea to bring the NHL to Vancouver. He’s literally responsible for millions of dollars in property damage.

Fuck every fan of any other team that claims to “hate” the Canucks. You haven’t earned the right to say that.

Make it so every time someone wins the Stanley Cup as the Canucks in NHL 14, the game disc self-destructs, lights the console on fire, and burns down their house.

Make it so I don’t feel like calling social services whenever I see a kid wearing a Canucks jersey.

Hire Dan Cloutier as a goaltending consultant, just for shits and giggles. What’s that? You already did that? All right, fuck it then – make him the GM.

Stop celebrating the 1994 team. Breaking news: they lost. Looking forward to the 2031 pregame ceremony where we applaud the 2011 team and pretend we don’t know how it ended.

But hey, speaking of 2031, it’s entirely possible that you’ll have won a Cup by then. Here is a brief list of things that are more possible:

• Complete nuclear annihilation

• Massive earthquake destroys Vancouver

• Massive earthquake destroys Vancouver with the Canucks leading by 3 with 30 seconds left in Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals

• Seattle is awarded NHL franchise, wins Cup in first year of existence

• NBA team wins Stanley Cup

God damn it.

Fuck this team.

Return of the Mock Draft Ruiner

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Bigfoot Is For Real

Bigfoot is definitely real.

Bigfoot is for Real is the latest bestseller from acclaimed author Porb Dingus, a Nebraskan pastor who wrote the 2010 book Heaven is for Real, in which his 4 year old son, Flumbo Dingus, visited heaven during an emergency appendectomy. In Bigfoot, Flumbo undergoes another emergency procedure, and when he awakens, describes his meeting with the legendary Sasquatch – in stunning detail. 

“Well, with the movie coming out so soon – April 2014, mark it down – we decided that this was the perfect time to release a new book,” said Porb Dingus in a recent interview. “We said, “Flumbo, we’re going to need you to get very sick again, so we can write about whatever you see while the doctors are operating on you.” So we moved him into a college dorm for a few weeks until he contracted bacterial meningitis, and boom, he meets Bigfoot. I mean, Bigfoot. Can you believe it? It’s already number 1 on the New York Times Best Seller list. Amazing.”

“I almost died,” added Flumbo.

According to Flumbo, Bigfoot:

  • is approximately 7 to 12 feet tall
  • is covered in hair
  • is in “okay” shape
  • has been having financial issues (“He calls himself Shopsquatch,” said Flumbo)
  • is definitely Christian (“He had a Bible that said “Bigfoot’s Bible” on the cover,” added Flumbo)
  • believes abortion is the greatest threat facing America today
  • thinks the Yeti is “kind of a dick”
  • crochets
  • thinks Flumbo is a cool and good name
  • has read Heaven is for Real and enjoyed it immensely
  • purchased his copy of Heaven is for Real on Amazon.com, using the promo code PORBFLUMBO
  • thought Greg Kinnear’s turn in The Matador was “criminally underrated”
  • is extremely excited for the April 2014 release of the Heaven is for Real movie, starring Greg Kinnear

Critics believe the Dinguses have lied and scammed their way onto the bestseller list. Porb denies this. “Bigfoot is real,” he says, convincingly. The family has dealt with their fair share of criticism over the past few years, but Porb believes there’s nothing more Christian than benefiting from a son dying and then coming back to life. “If Jesus had met Bigfoot when he died,” he says, believably, “you can bet God would have included it in the Bible.”

Daily Currant Article Funny

In an unexpected turn of events, a recent article from The Daily Currant, the self-proclaimed global satirical newspaper of record, was funny. Known for fooling 85 year olds into sharing their content on Facebook, The Currant’s successful attempt at humor came as a shock to its “many” “devoted” “readers.”

“It was weird. Whenever I see a Currant article, it’s because some distant relative mistakes it for a real news story,” said Derek Copeland, 22, of Edmonton, Alberta. “I thought their whole thing was being vaguely plausible, not being funny.”

“I saw the headline, and I actually chuckled audibly,” said Miranda Johnston, 26, of Lubbock, Texas. “Usually the headline is something realistic and boring, but this time it contained a joke. An honest-to-God joke.”

Calling it “completely unprecedented,” prominent researcher Thomas Research was as surprised as everyone else. “If you take the two main demographics of the Currant’s readership, you’re left with “Tricked Aunts,” and “People Who Actually Find It Funny,”” said Research. “If you were to make a pie chart out of those two groups, it would look like Pacman with his mouth closed. That’s why this is so shocking.”

“Good satire punches upwards,” said The Daily Currant’s founder, Daniel Barkeley, “Amazing satire doesn’t punch at all. It hardly even registers as like, a touch or a flick. Amazing satire tricks you into thinking it’s real. It’s actually smarter than regular satire, the kind with jokes.”

When asked if he thought his website would continue being funny, Barkeley smirked and said, “People overdosing on weed. That answer your question?”

As of yesterday, the most popular articles on The Daily Currant’s website were “Rising Tensions In The Middle East” and “Sarah Palin “Loves” NPR. The Reason This Is Funny And Smart Is Because She Actually Doesn’t Love NPR. Satire.”

Stock Tips

My friends, let me preface this by saying that I’m certainly no fiscal expert. I may have “zero financial acumen.” I may not “know what acumen means.” I may “jack off into a sock before work, and then immediately after work, and then right before bed.” But I do know a thing or two about the stock market.

  • Bear market: bad. Bull market: good. An easy way to remember this is that bears are bad and bulls are good.
  • Not a lot of people know this but you can basically pick any stock and you’ll probably make money off of it.
  • If a celeb is ringing the stock exchange bell, all the stocks are worth twice as much that day. It’s like Double XP Weekend but for stocks.
  • Companies that make toilets have stocks that you can buy. Haha you can buy stocks in the thing that people poop in hahahahaha.
  • The stock market runs under the traditional “no-take-backsies” system.
  • In the event of a massive stock market crash, elbow the person next to you and say something like “Too bad this market doesn’t have air bags!” Keep elbowing them if they don’t respond.
  • If you’re on the floor of the stock exchange, you have to constantly be holding handfuls of paper.
  • Day trading has several advantages, namely that it takes place during the day, when more people are awake.
  • Contrary to popular belief, “stockbrokers” are actually bad. You don’t want your stocks to go broke. That’s like the opposite of what you want.
  • If the market starts to tank, invest in wearable barrels.
  • Insider trading is when you use facts to understand stocks better, and it is illegal. Only use your gut to pick stocks, or choose ones that have funny names.
  • Just yelling “buy” or “sell” seems to work pretty well. I think as long as you’re making eye contact with somebody you should be good.
  • Wondering what the difference between stocks and bonds is? I have no fucking idea.
  • People on the stock market floor get pissed if you keep asking “Hey, if this is the floor, where’s the ceiling? Huh? The ceiling?”
  • The stock market may seem overwhelming at first, but it gets waaaay more overwhelming as time goes on.
  • “Trader” sounds like “traitor.” Take advantage of this. If you buy or sell the wrong stock, say something like “Wow, I feel more like a stock traitor.” Maybe write it down, it’s easier to see the difference in writing.
  • Refer to the stock market as Ol’ Stocky. The other traders will respect you for using a cool nickname.
  • Slick your hair back and wear suspenders. Wear a belt as well, because my suspenders broke after I snapped them for 3 hours straight.
  • If for whatever reason your stock is failing, you can flip the chart upside down and it’ll look like you’re making a ton of money.

Science For The Epic Motherfreaking Win

I fucking love science. Science for the motherfricking epic win. Don’t know if you’ve seen the shit I’ve been sharing on Facebook, but it’s a lot of stuff about science and how fucking epically motherbitching sick it is. It’s cool to talk about science using swear words. The swear words make the science better.

You see what Takei posted the other day? Yeah, the funny picture with big words written over the picture. Epic much? The man knows his internet – he’s practically made of win. His posts are basically just a big order of win with a side of fucking epic bacon and a bunch of fucking sriracha sauce poured on top. Shit yes. Science.

My favorite scientist? No question, it’s Tesla. Tesla is for the win. Simple as that, my man. He’s win and Edison is fail. If Edison was around today, I’d kick him in the dick. I hate Thomas Edison and love Tesla because of some insanely freaking epic webcomics I’ve read, where he’s riding a dinosaur and just doing altogether random shit. Tesla much? He’s epic as hell, which, by the way, is where Edison is. Or he would be, if hell was a real place, which it’s not. That reminds me, you see that image macro about how stupid those failshit Christians are? Bacon for the win.

Science… fuck yeah. The cool part about learning science on Facebook is that they use pictures and the words aren’t very big and you get to browse Facebook the entire time. Plus, the swearing. You can’t swear in school which is bullshit. I think I would like school a lot more if it was compacted down into meme format. Like instead of summer reading we could just look at like 10 to 20 different memes a day. Neil deGrasse Tyson for the motherepic shit win.

Don’t know if you’ve seen that science meme gallery on Imgur, but god damn, son – epic as motherfreaking hell. Science Wonka, Science Grumpy Cat – just like sriracha, there’s nothing that can’t be improved by adding science. Tell that to those insane Christians down in the South though. I’m not afraid to say it – religion is a huge fail.

Mother of Cthulhu… you see this Kickstarter for a gaming webcomic? Jesus mothershitting MechaChrist on a motorcycle… my wallet. Gaming webcomics are a massive win. I love to game and read comics about gaming. The characters are sarcastic as hell and say rude things with no consequences. I’m extremely jealous of them.

I’m going to buy this sick t-shirt I found online that says I Fucking Love Science on it. I’m going to literally pay money for that shirt. Well, the “fucking” part will be censored because otherwise my mom won’t let me use her credit card. Everyone will know how much I love science because that’s what it says on my shirt. Definitely gonna be a key part of the shirt rotation, behind I Fucking Love Bacon and this hilarious one where a bunch of those Russian guys from history are dancing and drinking. Yeah, like a party. That’s the joke. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and read the latest Tesla listicle and then share it on Facebook so everyone knows that I know who Tesla is. Sweet zombieshitting Jesus – I just realized Tesla never got to try sriracha.

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