The Freedom Gene

WARNING: This is crazy racist.

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Welcome class, welcome back to Advanced Genetics 201. Now that we've finished our chapter on Mendelian Genetics, we can start an interesting field of study that I know many of you may be looking forward towards - rare homogeneous recessive-allele linked diseases!

Let's start with a simple one... Hmmm... Oh, I've got it! What is the fundamental difference between America and Hitler?

...

It's all genetic, of course! Let me start with a case study, named Spectre- err. Pardon me. Specimen 1. Let's say that Specimen 1 is part of a nuclear family with two offspring, one of each gender. Now, if his father is from Austria and Mexico, while his mother is from Germany, what is the likelihood that he or his sister are 'merica-Hating Fascists?

Well it's simple, you see. From the ancestry of his parental generation, Austrian/Mexican and German, we can determine their genotypes. Remember, you must always base your prediction on genotypes, and not phenotypes! Being half Austrian (a former member of the Axis Powers), and half Mexican ('merica's little drug peddling brother), we can determine a genotype of "Ff" for his father. Being pure German, we can expect the mother to have a genotype of "ff".

Now, what is the homozygotic allele that determines whether or not one is a fascist? It is the Freedom Gene! The Freedom Gene, represented by an "F", is a dominant (MANIFEST DESTINY MOTHER F****ERS!... no seriously. Genes can do that.) allele present in all of America, Canucks, and tea-drinkers. This is due to the former two parties being direct descendants of Neolithic Americans. On the other hand, the Facism Gene, represented by a "f", is a homozygous recessive allele present in Nazis, Communists, terrorists, and uh... Specimen 1.

So, from what we learned from Punnet Squares, the genotypes Ff and ff create what ratio of phenotypes and genotypes?
...
That's right! The phenotypic ratio goes as follows:

    1 Facist : 1 FREEDOM FIGHTING MACHINE

The genotypic ratio goes as follows:

    1 ff: 1 Ff

That gives a 50% chance of a member of the first filial generation being a Nazi-Communist-'merica-hating-terrorist! Luckily for Specimen 1's sister, however, she was the other 50%. Yes, that's right, Liberty-Hope-Apple-Pie-9/11-Was-Bad is a FREEDOM LOVING AMERICAN.

Now, who were some other famous figures to have the Facist phenotype? Some other prominent members of society include: Walt Disney, Big Bird, "Pierce" from Community, and Rob Ford's right index finger.

Even more interesting is the effects of monosomies/trisomies in chromosome 69, the carrier for the Freedom/ Facism gene. In the case of a person having only one allele, individuals may experience severe depression, weight loss, and a lack of wanting to fight anyone. We call this condition being French. The phenotypes respective to the genotypes "Fx" and "fx" are named French Nazis, and dirty French people. As for trisomies, a very important person once had a trisomy for the Freedom Gene. You may know him.

Born to George Washington and Han Solo, Jesus was an influential individual with a genotype of "FFF"!

Pictured:
Genetic Selection at it's finest.

(warned you it was racist, bro cookie)
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Don't take personal offence, Specimen 1 and his immediate family. We still love you. <3

The Not So Awesome Hiatus

I think I need to take this time to rethink about what the hell exactly this blog was about for the past 50 posts of nonsense. I'll try to get it up by July 15th or so (which would mark the first anniversary of RRRAI! :O ).



-Das Snail die unt zwolf spulbecken Kevin is a Nazi.

A Rabid Squirrel is in Your Locker

Quick! It froths at the mouth and makes quite the ruckus! What are you to do about this small rodent jumping about in your personal depository?

Make haste, I say to thee! Wander down to thy friendly warlock of the funk down yonder, and make acquaintanceship with his magical being. A gift of rhythm and song shall do good. Should you now find yourself in his allegiance, you are to bring him to thy nuisance of fur and tooth, and seduce the beast!

Take it out now, ne'er fear. You need not worry, for this beast has been tamed. It shall be called to your presence upon the uttering of it's given title, Titmouse Green. Unto Green you are to bestow love, and nothing other so that you may find that one day it shall reciprocate relish of your own person. When this day comes forth, count the days to the first buds of lavender in the meadow down by the crick. Green shall be brought into this field where he will be sat down in a patch of subdued grass. With a flick of the wrist you are to launch an offshoot in his direction. Let this branch be great enough to give him a fright, but not so that you may injure his fragile limbs.

He flies! He soars! Into the air Green does rise, and truly risen is your small vermin companion! Over the shoulders and over the tail his crown rushes, you have taught him the first of the instalments in his craft!

To the towns and valleys and hamlets the three of you will wander. People will run rampant for Green, bringing with them the naive and the senile, and along with that, their merit. Golden merit that is, for Titmouse Green the rodent and Capricious Cootie the sorcerer will be fruitful in their expeditions to the remotest parts of the world.

I'm terribly sorry but I have to change tone from here on because the next half isn't very easy to write.

Yo dawg, then we be like, takin' the squirrel for some shit, you know? He be going up all over the coasts. West side, East side ain't gon' matter brah. Throw that little mofo into the cart and get his ass over to the next deal. We here to make the green! Hitch my ride up and tow the little f****er myself.

What's that? He's hungry? Throw in a leg of the good stuff, my most amiable negro friend, the moolah awaits us!


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So that's what happens when you leave me alone with a thesaurus for an hour to write a post.

Oh btw I hid links in the punctuation.

National Pencil Topper Width Regulatory Board

Times are dark my friends. In light of the recent economic downturn, I propose that the diameter of pencil toppers of all lengths be brought down 16% in order to save money on the expenses for rubber materials. This is essential, as pencil toppers are used widely across the nation for reasons spanning from writing to competing to see how far you can bounce one off a wall. We can save tonnes of material and energy in the production process, and drop costs so that education can become more affordable. The cost of education is too damn high, as a single student can be expected to go through tens of pencil toppers in their entire life. If you do the math, then you'll realize that you're spending money on these materials. And money can be exchanged for burritos, so you don't want that happening, losing your money to overpriced pencil toppers.

But today I come to you in hopes of speaking of a topic much more dark, a topic foreshadowing this writing piece as the major reason why I propose these regulations. This reason would be pencil topper adultery. You may snicker, but we all know how dire this is. Pencil toppers are casually being taken off pencils and replaced upon others, without any regard for the flow of the system. We can not allow people to simply remove and replace their pencil toppers upon other pencils this freely. Even if they do have bright colours and interesting shapes.

The interiors of these toppers are notched for a reason - to prevent the topper from sliding off the pencil. There is reason behind this in the fact that once a topper and pencil are bound together, they should never be split. Just like first love, once the two join, they are to be soul mates until either degrades from extended use. These two may be in union so long as you are not to taint their sanctity. Repeated removal of pencil toppers may lead to wearing away of the interior of the eraser or dislodged pencil ends, leaving the respective part unfit for service ever again. It's important parts have been ruined effectively, leaving them as sad lifeless husks of what could have been.

That is why I propose the National Pencil Topper Width Regulatory Board's creation, so that we may bring about reform and save these poor sticks of wood and rubber slabs. Upon the death of one of the halves, the remaining party of the pair is to be immortalized in The Bottom Of The Drawer. You are not to take another eraser topper and plop it down onto the remaining stub of pencil, or put the worn eraser topper on top of a new pencil. Because, you see, once we transgress in such a fashion, it opens up a gateway to other acts of unspeakable treachery.

Soon people will back out on other promises, such as politicians (they already do that) lovers. They'll walk out on eachother when they see fit without a second thought.

Military planners? "Oh watsup bro cookie, it turns out we are invading you now".

Taco Bell employees. "NO! I say when the time is to serve you, and the time is not now!"

And when we don't have our cheap Mexican food, what do we have left to live for? For the sake of the Crunchwrap Supreme, Stop Pencil Topper Adultery now!

The Time Turn(s for everyone except you)er

Get ready for an extra large serving of ramblings with a nice creamy sauce of Durp.

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FADE IN WITH A SPINNING ARC, PANNING PIVOT ABOUT MAIN CHARACTER, PEDESTAL DOWN, TRUCK IN. CHEESY ASS CHARACTER  THEME PLAYS.

(You’re gonna need a shit load of rollercoaster tracks to get this dolly camera)

Nothing goes to plan and a domino effect of epic fail plays out in front of you in slow motion. A pretty girl is crying before you. Your best friend looks the other way with a look of disgust and leaves you. You’ve tripped and an oversized burrito full of molten nacho cheese is flying through the air, about to hit Robert Downey Jr. and ruin his crisp white shirt, bringing to an end any chance of you landing your acclaimed breakthrough performance on a Broadway rock opera about Harvard cheese vampires invading Amsterdam’s Red Light District to take back the Provolone encrusted brown jade pendant that was stolen from the Queen of Bangkok…-ia. Worst of all, the last serving of chicken fingers in the café just sold out. May Dan Harmon have mercy upon our souls.

BUT THEN! The nuclear silo explodes behind your back The heroine pulls out the diary as the scarlet sun sets The rain starts to fall around you and your soulmate You lamely pull out a pen shaped apparatus and click down on the top.

Everyone in the room freezes on the spot. You walk over, grab a chicken finger off some random bloke and eat it. Then you walk in between Johnny Depp and the burrito, take a ready stance, and leave your mouth left agape, ready to receive His Great Beefy Blessing (wink wink). Clicking down once again on the pen-looking-thing, the burrito comes flying into your mouth. From behind you, Johnny Depp exclaims “OMG YOU JUST SAVED ME FROM THIRD DEGREE MEXICAN FOOD BURNS! +∞ supermodels, sports cars, moneys, and fames to you!”

CREDITS ROLL

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That obscure Community reference aside, I think we’ve all had one of these moments. You see, thanks to the power of bad storytelling, cheap cookie cutter plots, and seizurificly cheesy camera work , I’ve effectively masked my next conspiracy theory, and it's all about that stupid pen thing.

For decades now I’ve been secretly feeding all of you liquid nitrogen mixed with microscopic DVD copies of Pirates of the Carribean - On Stranger Tides. These deluxe edition CDs, with their unique property of having an ionic charge of “holy fuck why is this so bad”, effectively neutralize the whole freeze-off-your-ass part of the liquid nitrogen.

None of you knew that it was in there. It all goes back to the Great War. Materials were running short and we had to get all the cotton we could. Without any of you knowing it, we planted agents into all of the cotton producing plants around the nation. They spent decades of their lives contributing to this great cause. By the end of the 1960, we had agents in the top circle of every single cotton conglomerate on the face of the planet. And then, we started meddling with the bleach mixes. We added paint thinner to all of the cotton marked to be used in female hygiene products, and watched the chaos ensure. 


Over the following decade all the young prepubescent girls developed high concentrations of paint thinner in their hoohahs. All the adult females were affected as well, and thanks to kinky promiscuous love making being so popular, many of the males were exposed to high concentrations of paint thinner as well. So it's kind of our fault that hippies exist. 


Around this time, I approached Walt Disney. "What if I told you that I have a way to make millions around the world fall for your cheesy films? The next thing you know, we've got exclusive rights to produce POTC and several million dollars to spend on liquid nitrogen.


Back to the toxic wombs.Upon birth, children of the 70s were just smothered in paint thinner. Causing much brain damage, these children had extremely low IQs (it's starting to make sense, eh?). These incompetent people and children were disillusioned with something called animal rights and healthy eating. Thinking that cows with feelings were in need of saving, and that sweetened sugary plant milk would make them skinnier, people started buying soy milk. Over decades, the magical tainted juice of my creation filled the cells of the hippies, and their children well into 2012.


Soy milk? Of course we mixed the liquid nitrogen/Johnny Depp compound into soy milk. The whole field of genetics was a cover up while we were learning how to suspend microscopic DVDs in soy milk while keeping the appearance homogeneous and the flavour light and refreshing. No one suspected a thing, because soy milk seems so innocent and pure. And NOW, with the power in my hands, I can release clouds of pretentious movie critic nanomachines to enter the blood stream and corrode the copies of Pirates of the Carribean so that the liquid nitrogen freezes EVERYTHING over.

Because, you see, in 2014 I missed the live series finale of Community. On my way to the TV I was blinded by a flying chilli cheese burrito that went flying through my window. I was devastated, what was there to live for now? I considered ending it all. But when I held the gun to my mouth, I hesitated. What if there was a way? In 2020 when the time machines first came out, I went on a one way trip to 1914 to start this great big scheme, so that when the fateful burrito flew through my window in 2014, I would be ready to sacrifice myself in the name of Dan Harmon.


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And that is what you say when you're an 125 year old breaking into a teenager's house to steal their PS3 and you're caught. 

A Meyerification of Life

Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. That ring is ugly.
Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. That puppy is ugly.
Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. That man is ugly.
Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. That tree is ugly.

Hey, a shiny cardboard box! Look how shiny it is! Look at it! Look at it!

That's a somewhat accurate rundown of what my train of thought was running through one morning last week (so like the start of February?) when the weather decided to stop being such a pussy and actually snow half a centimeter. In the aftermath of the devastating several mm of precipitation that Toronto was bombarded with, there was actually a pretty decent layer of frost covering some random objects on my way to school. Like the grass. And the sidewalk. And a random cardboard box I just happened to see. And damn, that was one really attractive cardboard box.

It makes sense, people have urges. All kinds of urges, whether it be for money, procreation, or Mexican food. I know I've played out on a good two of those three things. Go on, guess which it is.

Don't know? Yeah, I don't feel like I need money that much. *wink wink* No. Uhh... Back on topic.

Among those urges would be the primal redneck instinct -wait. Sorry. That was politically incorrect. The primal Southern folk instinct to be attracted to shiny things. And you know how you make stuff that isn't particularly shiny become shiny? By glazing it in extra nice stuff.

In this case it would be frost. Why are Froot Loops so damn tasty? They're not, you just think so because it's glazed to look shiny (or at least smooth on some parts). Why is Robert Pattinson making so much damn money sitting in front of a camera with a toned CGI abdomen? He's not, it's not the body, it's the glitter. You're attractive to his shininess. And finally, why do we seem to be so damn attracted to Apple products? It's not because they're innovative smartphones anymore, Android surpassed them in that already a while back. It's because the glass casing makes it shiny.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears, and eyes, and hips, and stomachs, and thighs, and anywhere else strippers may like to apply glitter; for we shall craft a great new land today. A land known as South'rn Idaho Moonshine County The Bopping Cowgirl Gentlemen's Club Daytona 500 Supreme 24/7 Canada Mk. II, and in it there will be no prejudice! No injustice! Neither will there be poverty, nor fear, nor strife, nor any of these unpleasantries! You see, in this vast land of beautiful glittery people and things who sparkle, no one will ever be called ugly, hideous, or visually displeasing again! And through that, we will achieve full synonymity in our perfect sparkly outer selves, and no longer shall we be shackled by the chains of well rounded characteristics or bright personalities! All will be equal in our shallow, superficial ideals of the perfect person. We must...

The Greater Good

Everyday you see people with nice things. They want nice things. They search for nice things. And they envy other people with nice things. But you know what? It's not about just you or your nice things. It's about the community, and making it so that everyone can have things just as nice as yours. If everyone contributes to get nicer things, then everyone will get nice things, including you.

And this will be the message sent across to all those who succumb join the almighty Church of the Snail. Because you see, only when people realize that they must give to the community will they open up their wallets hearts to the church community. Every Sunday, my slaves disciples will gather under the great shell of knowledge, our symbol of the church, and put in their monetary donations to go towards the church and it's services provided, such as teaching the importance of sharing and giving to your masters peers. This monetary donation will teach people to live simpler lives; lives built around friends, family, moral values, and... not really much else. It turns out that the nice things aren't really the things you buy.

All shall acknowledge the Great Shell of Knowledge!

Taking their money is vital to the cause. You see, only then can one ascend to the great state of joy and happiness that is eternal. Such perpetual enjoyment is only viable when the people learn to live off of nothing and appreciate all the extremely small little things.

After all, there is but one great figure that watches over all of us, and there is just one great figure that you aim to please. This would be Father Mollusc, the founder of the Church of the Snail. He was the stingiest, cheapest man to walk this world. That man taught us all to live off of pennies a day and not delve into the horrors of materialism.

By the way, all members of this church must swear an oath of absolute faith (Christians...).

MJ is the Cure

This is insanely funny. The rest of the post will not be.

I personally support the legalization of marijuana. I don't use marijuana. I'm not a punk or a druggie either. To be honest I think dope smells like shit. Not the shit, but unprocessed shit. Feces. Excrement. I live in Scarborough, I would know the smell.

But you wanna know what I am? I'm an average citizen. And that means that I have a higher IQ than the collective IQ of all Canadian Cabinet and US Senate members combined (a trait shared by about every single other person in North America). And that's why you listen to me (since no one takes the politicians seriously anyways).

My biggest point would be crime related to marijuana, grow-ops, and illegal distribution. There are tons of people being arrested constantly for crimes related to these "offences", which leads to a hell of a lot of wasted police resources and other crimes, like murder. Why the hell bother cutting down on it? It's not toxic. It's not a gateway drug, but I'd probably much rather smoke marijuana than try to use cocaine or heroin. It's just as damaging as smoking tobacco or consuming alcohol, and it wastes just as much time that video games do in an angsty teenager with an Xbox.

It's a bit pricey, though, I'll give you that. A single spliff isn't as cheap as chocolate bar. But you know what? If we were to legalize it, people could be authorized to mass produce it on farms and such, leading  to better, cleaner, and healthier kinds of cannabis (like Hong Kong and opium). Of course the government will hop on board in an attempt to heavily tax it, which they've done with gambling, liquor, drugs, guns, and tobacco. But you know what's funny? You don't have to give a f*** about prices, now that you can legally grow it yourself. The trade off will be pretty good. We've eliminated crime, murder, underground crime rings, made weed healthier and more regulated by the government, and dropped prices for all the junkies around the world.

This notion that "Weed is the Cure" originally came when I was talking to a friend in the cafeteria about pretty random stuff. We talked about the dangers of having high or low blood pressure, and the negative long term effects of it. The topic shifted to brain aneurysms, and how undetectable yet lethal they were. And then I came up with the idea of everyone smoking a lot of pot to relax tension in the blood stream, because Alex is a unique little boy that thinks in his own special little way.

Anyways, everyone go get really high so you don't drop dead because of an aneurysm.

Preborn Legal Documentation

This post will be dedicated to a very special girl that I have yet to understand in all her odd quirkiness, for she was the (really really really) awesome brains behind this week's topic. The horrors of plagiarism! D:

And no, it's not Lady Gaga. The girl's not that weird. I hope.

Wouldn't you love it if someone came to you when you were a wee little toddler and said "You know what? Life f***ing sucks". You'd then proceed to bawl your eyes out because you're a little sheltered 4 year old sack of meat. But you know what? Now you don't have to spend the next 80 years learning about how unfair it all is, and coping with blatant injustice and assholes for the rest of your life.

You see, the genius in this would be the fact that you can now crawl on your little chubby legs down to the basement. Enter daddy's secret hidden closet of toys, shuffle through the magazines of naked people hugging vigorously, and pull out the 9mm.

"Well, there's really nothing much left to anticipate now"

says baby you, who will then proceed to make a Van Gough on the wall with your bodily fluids and vital organs.

Whoa. Why so dark, Alex? I always am. I'm not listening to too much screamo.

Hey, here's a better thought. What if we did that, except to foetuses? Shove a tube up a special place to open up a channel of communication to the person directly (I know what you're thinking, shutup, foetuses are very linguistic beings). What if we could let them know that they're being born into a dystopia, long before they actually are? Now that would be a huge convenience. It'd save the mum the trouble of pushing the person out for 19 hours too. It'd be practical. Because that's the premise of this whole site. Practicality.

The baby gets to sign a contract, saying that they'd been warned of all negative repercussions of being alive, and that they can no longer say that no one told them that life is this unfair. If they say they'd like to be born, the super cancer machine thingy will pop them out right away. If they say otherwise, apply the uterus punch immediately for maximum chance of miscarriage.

PROS:
-saves the world one insecure toddler, one bitchy preteen, one angsty teen, one depressed youth, and a quadruple shopping mall murder-suicide
-saves the world the food, space, materials, and effort wasted for said person
-saves the person a life of discontempt in our broken materialistic "democratic" capitalist system full of judgement and marginalization of unique people

CONS:
-birth rate will drop to about 1 baby born for every 700 fertile females
-labour and production will drop by about 99%
-GNPs and GDPs will drop by about 99%
-quality of life will by drop by 99% (in terms of the human development index)
-technological advances will cease
-cultural advances will cease
-city projects will cease, such as expansion of transportation infrastructure
-humans will cease to be the dominant species of Earth

So as you can see, it turns out this was the most brilliant idea ever. Why? Because we've just uprooted the hold of all those contributing to the system (pro life debaters, greedy corporations, corrupt politicians, global warming, an expanding population, declining resources, declining available land for development, declining ariable land, declining potable water, the wallflowers of society, the counter productive hinderence of imposing equality, materialistic value, and anti-social tendencies for starters), as the remaining (1/700)% of humans will scramble together in a dear attempt to hold onto life.

BUT. They'll all be humbled into cooperation and learn to take simpler values and morals on, such as the importance of self accomplishment and community, family, and friends.

Big Mac Daddy Mollusc's Monthly Subscription Service

I was talking to a friend the other day when we were at a restaurant. She was eating ice cream as if she had OCD, doing some freaky ass surgical precision in taking scoops out of it. I told her if she could ever put that much dedication in something not as pointless as eating ice cream, she could be really successful (she's super lazy). She said that what she was doing took a lot more precision than it looked like, and proceeded to insult me for being so meticulous in how I take photos.

OH NO YOU DI'NT BITCH. NOW U GON' GET IT.

At which point I began to nerd her out with things on aperture and metering and such. She said that photography was stupid because you couldn't make real money off of it, at which point I responded with the fact that I could take pictures of half naked women for Playboy all day and make loads of money and be the happiest dude in the world. She pointed out that the women wouldn't touch me anyways, seeing that I was just the photographer. To that I responded with the fact that I would have shitloads of cash with which to buy their company. She then said that once I got old, the women would be old and crusty and undesirable, while she would still have her ice cream no matter what.

And them BAM! I got this idea.

Don't you love how badly that last paragraph was constructed? Want me to fix it? Nope.

This will be targeted to extremely rich old white guys that want to get sum' 'o it on (pronounced AHH-WON) wit' dat. Every month, sorta like a magazine, a new woman will be sent to your home for residency as part of our premium packages. You see, you'll get older and older, but the girls we send to you every month will stay the same age (we're gonna need some more cancer foetuses).

Do anything you want with her, involving all sorts of kinky forplay and other acts of a sexual nature. This will be a convenience oriented thing, and we'll allow for rentals and online downloads as well (don't ask me how that works). One can choose from many lines, such as "Asian", "Ebony", and "Amputee Midget". Guess which one is our most popular line. ;)

Alright, first off! This isn't slavery, because hookers aren't people.
Next! The missus won't know, because all our bombshells come with lampshade camouflaging modes(it's really convincing).
Finally! She doesn't make sandwiches, sorry mates.

Wait, wait, where are you going? No! Wait! Come back! You can still sleep with her!

Dammit. Lost another customer.

Ching Chong Space Cowboy

Hey. I want you to play a little game with me. How much do you think NASA takes up in a year for it's operations? Go on. Think it over a bit.

About $19 billion. Sweet jesus, you could buy a lot of chili cheese burritos with that. Wow. I'm about to bump that up to about $200 billion.

Want to know why? Because that's an initial investment. The next year after that we'll be running about three bucks fifty, and that's just because George forgot to bring the WD40 and had to go down to Home Depot to get a can. "What is he talking about?" you may ask.

Bobby Lee. That is how.

If any of you guys have ever seen Bobby Lee (which I know you have, otherwise you're a terrible human being) doing any one of his infamous sketches on Madtv, it's farking hilarious. Who hasn't heard of Bobby Lee? The whole reason why Madtv even ran was because of Bobby Lee. Keegan Michael Key is cool too  though.

$200 billion will immediately be put forth to good use in actually making Cancer Baby Accelerated Fetus Growth a reality, with all the semen to be donated by none other than Bobby Lee (he's going to have a lot of fapping to do), after which all his children will be raised by NASA to be spacemen. Seeing that he's Asian, they'll all be insane super geniuses. Seeing that they're all mini Bobby Lees, they'll all be insanely funny to watch.

After all their formal training and science degrees, we'll set them off in the Uh Oh ! Hot Dog! shuttle and set up cameras everywhere so that we can watch the shenanigans that they get into up in space. One of them might come running out of the control centre half naked, covered in nacho cheese, and screaming about panzerottis. One of them might try their own rendition of the cameltoe while doing a spacewalk. One of them might accidentally urinate upon the flight control systems, leading the shuttle into an asteroid belt after getting really wasted on cheap sake. Who knows?

You know, I'm not really kidding around here. Bobby's done some insane stuff. Sorta like Flea. You know what, screw it, let's send Flea up with them and watch him dance around with a fleabass in his PJs slapping some funky beats to the shenanigans of Bobby Lee.

So after the first few stunts (and some REALLY shocked newspaper titles), people will start tuning in every Friday to check out what crazy ass shit NASA's up to next. The monumental advertising space in the one hour long highlights-of-the-week episode will probably be more than enough to pay off for all expenses of the program, with millions going in for seconds of a logo being popped. With the excess we can fund any other research projects that we may have, such as looking for life on other planets and figuring out where to haul our asses to after wasting Earth with nukes (you know it'll happen eventually)

Throw in the revenue from stupid little bobbleheads and knock-off DVDs and we've just solved the US debt crisis.

Hot damn, I'm on a roll! I've fixed climate change and the recession!

Inter-Skyscraper Sports League

You'll notice this post wasn't written in my usual style of crude satire, do enjoy it anyways. (That was an order.)

Alright, so I've actually never worked an office job. My parents work in smaller offices that that accommodate smaller numbers of people, so I've never really seen the work environment inside a skyscraper. BUT. The media says that it sucks, so that means that I believe so too. The media is everything, it is truth, it is my life's being (and a shit load of propaganda).

Anyways, as I was saying, it must be boring as balls. You'll be sitting there couped up, doing data entry and spreadsheets and some other menial task, when you'll pop up Internet Explorer and start entering addresses. Facebook? Blocked. NFL? Blocked. NBA? Blocked. Shit. And you know that the dirty ones are gone too.

But wait. You just remembered. Dave, your next door neighbour, works in the skyscraper beside you. Wait, is that him over there? Hey, his window is facing yours! Ooh, he's waving now! You wave back. Hmm... what should we do now...

Obviously the only logical thing to solve this conundrum of boring-ness is to whip out a ping pong ball and an industrial ping pong paddle. What? That doesn't exist? Well, it does now. It'll be a two-part paddle with a pneumatic pump to pump out the other half like a jackhammer, i'll make it shoot at 240 kph or something. So find a spot on the sidewalk down below so that you don't kill someone, and whip out your protractor and calculator, it's time to make the first volley across.

BAM! Whoops. Missed. Smashed in the window 6 right, 17 down from him. Uhh... the dude didn't see you yet, just keep going. Oh shit, that one just smashed through the newspaper box down there. Crap. One last try. Here we go-

Oh! Damn, it actually made it! It's soaring through the air, towards your friend, and he returns the first strike! Hah! This is even more fun than punching orphans and collecting their tears in a jar! having sex while pooping and eating at the same time! pretending to be the batman in a public park while in nothing but your underwear! snowboarding! Damn, look at that sucker go, it's whizzing back down and- oh shit. Oh Shit. Ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit it just hit some old lady down there. Why won't she get back up?!?! Uhh... did anyone see that?

You turn around. Dave's freaking out in his cubicle. You run to the washroom and drop your paddle in the trash. This isn't right, you can't be associated with murder! You hurl into the toilet and hear a knocking at the door. Ohgodohgodohgod, they found us man, game over, game ove-

WHOA! Jesus. It was all just a dream. You look around. Where the hell am I?

I'm in a little dingy room, dressed in black and white stripes, on the bottom bunk of a mangy cot, and there's this weird soreness in your as- Oh. Right. You've been in jail for 4 years now for raping a donkey. Well, this sucks.

Go Away

Here's an idea you might possibly even see within the next few years. Dibs on the patent!

So here, before you do anything else, go watch this:
Samsung's Smart Window



Pretty kick-ass, eh?
When I first saw it my first thought went along the lines of " yeah! Smart window! Smart mirror! Smart coffee table! Smart coffee mugs! Put that shit on EVERYTHING!", which while it is fine and dandy, it's kind of impractical. Rather than enclose your mind with thoughts of what you could be doing in the house, think of what you could do outside the house.

All I'm saying is that the possibilities are endless if you just flip it around so people outside could see. While you could just make it play obscene images all day, that is quite unoriginal.

Remember that scene in Home Alone where Keith puts on that assload of silhouettes in his house to make it look like it was full to the robbers? Yeah, something like that. Except of them getting murdered. You'll be the scariest dude on the block, and ain't no stupid kids gon' be riding their bikes over your lawn.

You can use it to show your support for a certain MPP, an upcoming movie, or quite possibly just a lot of phallic images. Which will probably be about a good %40 of all users.

Don't you hate it when annoying sales people come up to your door and bother you, trying to sell useless shit? Or maybe you just hate your very loud Indian neighbors that insist on letting the smell of their cooking waft out into the hall by leaving their doors open. Set up a simple trip wire by your front door step to start the audio loop. What audio loop you ask? Maybe a little something like these:

"Oi! Charles, get the door! Hell naw, stupid woman! You go get it! What did you just call me? What do you think I did, you dumb bitch? *loud crash* Oh, now you're going to get it! *loud impact noises * How do you like that? *sounds of struggle* Now go make me a sandwhich."

" Pa! There'n be a man on the porch! Fella look'a like he be from the bank! The bank?!? Boy, get me the shotgun! *audible gun cocking and loading* Ha ha, let's see how they like this! *loud thuds as man approaches door* You go get'm good, Pa!"

 " *loop soundtrack of two people having passionate intercourse very, very loudly*"

If your neighbor hasn't left yet, I suggest you move, because those are some pretty nasty ass perverts.

Kinky Kurt and his Octopus Accomplice

Today Henry spun a quite colorful yarn on the topic of how he plans one day to get a pet octopus. Upon my question of what the hell he is to do with an octopus, he told me that he would train it to pick locks. You know, because they're super smart and have eight appendages.

Wow. Makes you wonder how such a genius could possibly come up with such a... bright idea.

First off, isn't there the whole problem of octopi being aquatic?

"I'll stand there with a cup of water splashing it while it picks the lock. It has... uh... 8 arms so when we go in it'll go around grabbing everything ."

And he meant, like, EVERYTHING. You're going to be coming home to an empty den and wonder where the hell your sofa went. My next question was, won't the police kind of notice a string of burglaries where every single crime scene is littered with bits of decayed fish and water splashed all over half the front porch and living room? We kept on talking about it and it went nowhere, just like most of our conversations.

So now it's my time to somehow come out with both sides on this stance. The first con might be that the octopus could be subject to abuse, seeing that Henry... likes animals. Like dolphins.

The pros would be... uhh... you can eat it later?

Now, what's genius about this? Not much really. Wanna know what is? Getting a second octopus, and breeding them like rednecks. Feed them nothing but entire cows, and they'll grow to about the size of a minivan each (because that's how it works, right?). So now you have 100 giant octopi at your disposal (i'll attach giant soda hats to them so that there's a constant stream of water going), and about 10 covert octopus agents hibernating in Lake Ontario, ready for you to unleash your mollusc invasion of the entire Great Lakes area. I'll teach them Kumon calculus or something so they get mind powers.

Once my giant telekinetic super octopi secure the Great Lakes area for the great mollusc nation (TheAmazingSnail), I'll transport them to oceans and seas around the world to recruit the whales, sharks, and dolphins as well, while maintaining their numbers with a breeding pool in a covert location (don't check my basement, because it totally won't be there. Really. Go away). I'll be like Hitler, but without the whole genocide-fuelling hatred filled bit. No, once I've taken control of the world (which may require a bit of killing. Just a bit.), I'll proceed to take the actions necessary to actually save the world from climate change, such as outlawing non-renewable energy and promoting the respect of animals and ecosystems.

"What?"

That was you. Just now. Yeah, didn't see that coming.

Avoiding Bear Rape

Hey guys, as all of you know, I live a double life as an average teenage school girl internet blogger named Miley Stewart Alex Shi by day and a famous pop singer super duper awesome talentless celebrity named Hannah Montana Snooki by night. Being so super duper famous, I obviously never really put any effort in anything and I rely on my looks and promiscuity coupled with the idiocy of America to get a free ride in life (among other kinds of rides...). That being said, I've hired someone to write this week's post. This was a special job of course, and for that I've prepared quite a hefty sum of a reward. That is to say, the amount that I've paid for this post was...


NNNNNNNNNNNNOOOTTTTTHHHHHHIINNNNGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, gotta love Metalocalypse. Wanted to say that for quite a while. :)
(Yes that was a link, silly, go click on it.)

Anyways, here I introduce the first (and only? Iunno) guest post on RRRAI:

Avoiding Bear Rape - A Lucian Wang Adventure

Author’s Note: Events described may not have occurred as written. Except the parts about my penis, that’s all totally true.

           Today, I woke up and immediately (okay, after doing some stuff that I do every morning which we won’t go into here because this is a CLASSY blog) decided “FUCK YEAH GEOCACHING”.

           Geocaching: A “sport” where you go out into forests and try to find geocaches filled with goodies. Once you find a geocache you take one thing, and put in another thing. After a few weeks, it essentially becomes a game of find-the-feces. 

            I was walking in the forest, dodging cruisers left and right, and occasionally joining one or two, I noticed immediately that this wasn’t a regular forest. No sirree, no lame-ass squirrels or deer in this forest, this was a CRUISER BEAR FOREST. 

            Ladies, gentlemen, transvestites and Pasca, let me just say: I will have - happy happy yumyum- with many things; A microwaved bagel. A piece of raw meat. Madonna. But I draw the line at angry, horny, STD-ridden bears. 

            Cruisers: People who walk around naked in forests, looking for -CENSORED: Let’s just call it “Happy happy yumyum”- 

            Cruiser Bears: Bears who walk around naked in forests, looking for -Happy happy yumyum-            

            Madonna: A cross between a microwaved bagel and a piece of raw meat, yet so much worse than the two things alone. 

            I scrambled around the forest, determined to complete my quest to lay feces in to a small plastic container. My watchful eyes scanned the forest, wary of any bears wandering around looking to engage in violent homosexual interspecies intercourse. I soon grew bored of the tedious search, and I devised a brilliant plan to speed things up a little. I wiggled my ears, twitched my eyebrows, and sure enough, my ultra-manly mass of chest hair sprang out from underneath my Hugo Boss suit. The shroud of hair soon covered the forest, enveloping it underneath its power. 

            Chest hair: A powerful force of nature, that only the greatest of men are permitted to wield, teeming with sexual energy. 

            The sexual energy within the hair reached out and found the package (heh) for me, and then returned to its sheath within my suit. The tiny container was already filled to the brim with various candies, figurines and trinkets. No matter, one flick of the hair and that all vaporized, reappearing elsewhere in –CENSORED: Let’s just call them “Battery-powered, adult entertainment devices”- form. As I dropped my trousers, ready to do the deed, I suddenly realized with horror: They were waiting for this. The reason I hadn’t seen any Cruiser bears yet was because they were hiding in wait of this vulnerable moment. 

            Cruiser bears are extremely cunning and deceptive, compared to other Cruiser-type animals, such as Cruiser wolves and Cruiser rabbits. 

            As the first bear jumped out behind a tree, its comrades following it, I quickly formulated a plan. Reaching into my wallet for the XXXL CHAINED BEAST condoms that I always keep on me, as only the XXXL size condoms will accommodate me (Ladies, *wink*), I quickly expanded them to their full size. I threw them and directed them using the gravitational force of my enormous - CENSORED: Let’s just call it “The Wang Spear of Heavenly Pleasure”-. The cruiser bears found themselves trapped inside enormous condoms, each specifically designed to contain the awesome power found within - The Wang Spear of Heavenly Pleasure- 

            The Wang Spear of Heavenly Pleasure: An incredibly powerful weapon, designed by the hand of God (but in a totally straight way), to strike fear and awe in the hearts of mortal women, bestowed upon mankind’s greatest: Lucian Wang. Legend tells that The Wang Spear of Heavenly Pleasure, is one day destined to save mankind from Ragnarok, by breeding a new force of super-human beings. Ladies, feel free to take part in this (extremely satisfying) mission.           

             Safe from harm, I did the deed and returned home, ready for the adventures of the afternoon. (Hint: They were dirty) (Hint: They most certainly did not involve 8 seconds of one activity, and 40 minutes of post-coitus crying)            

            Coital: Pertaining to Coitus 

            Coitus: A fancy-shmancy way of saying - happy happy yumyum- 

             Did I mention The Wang Spear of Heavenly Pleasure also once saved a busload of orphans holding puppies, chocolates, diamonds and Taylor Swift? Cuz yeah.

Those cruiser rabbits be vicious, yo.

Every Organist is a Ballerina in Awaiting...

Get ready for a super heavy dosage of my ramblings this week. If the previous posts made no sense, this one is sure to leave you befuzzled. That is to say that this week's post is literally nothing but the ramblings that come up in my mind on the spot. Enjoy(?)

My friend, to whom I shall refer to as "piano guy" from now on, works on the weekends as a church organist. He once told me that he has a special pair of shoes that he dons whilst playing the organ. A special  kind of pair of shoes, which supposedly let you anchor your feet while moving between the sea of pedals present on an organ.

"Indeed, good sir! But does that not mean that every organist would make quite the most delightful ballerina?" I questioned most earnestly. "No." he replied, hyphen, under score, hyphen. "It most indeed does not, Alex". Why ever not should this be so? In mine own sight, it doth appear quite queer that a noble young gentleman engaged in the fine act of pushing air through large metal pipes should not be able to prance like a sugar plum fairy.

One should be able to, even after piano guy showed me his awkward heel-toe technique for shifting positions. Looks a bit like when one of my friends tried to teach me how to c-walk (which shall never be spoken of again...). HeeltoeheeltoeheeltoeheeltoeheeltoeDOTHESNAKE. That dance project was most uncomforting. And I wasted a good bottle of leather polish...

Back on topic (is there a real topic?), I think that not only should organists be able to go out and buy ballerina shoes, all musicians should. I'd love to do pirouettes all over a stage with a trombone while belting out a dirty gliss. And Paul shall join in said act of gayous prancing, and together we shall be known as the sexypants(s)! pants'? What was the plural add-on for words ending in "s"?

It does not matter. Humuhumunukunukuapua'a. Forgetting Sarah Marshall was pretty nice. I rather enjoyed it, with the gratuitous dirty references throughout. Kristen Bell isn't that bad either. What was the name of the chick that Peter ends up with in the end? I forget, but she sorta looks like whatsherface from The Office. Jim's girlfriend that Pam got all jealous about.

My god, I was so depressed when Michael left The Office. D: It's like taking away Phoebe from Friends. Or Barney from HIMYM.

Simple knave, do seek insight into the grand imaginarium that is my mind! Seek it! The inner workings of this state of art shall provide the teachings that will fuel the emerging generation of youth, shall my sayings be belted into the air for millennia! I think I'm reacting oddly to a can of soda I drank, I normally don't eat much junk food at all. Hope the sugar crash comes soon because I'm quite dozy. The elevated sense of happiness I'm in does not seem that natural.

That was an unfiltered view into what happens when I get bored. Or tired. Or excited. I think I have an on and off switch for this kind of stuff, because normally the only thing on my mind is logistics and Robert Downey Jr. as black Robert Downey Jr. Nah, just kidding, I think about dirty stuff, ladies. ;)

"So thus ends the most unproductive post ever seen on RRRAI."

The Lego Bus Seat Proposal

So before the holiday break I remarked that quite a few buses were skipping stops while only half full. This immensely annoyed me, because it was clearly visible that there was more than enough space in the back of the bus, yet most people would just loiter in the front. "That is really inefficient" I would say. But you know what isn't inefficient? Really Really Really Awesome Ideas.

I'll warn you now that this may scare some people at the thought of it.

We've all recalled to the good old days when we used to all play with Lego. The big ass bucket would be absolutely horrendous to try to sort through every time you got it out. That's sort of like how we're being laid out right now, with all the pieces of different shapes and sizes getting crammed into every little corner we can find.

Now you may say "but Alex, you can't compare people to Lego! We don't even have the notches to fit together!"! Now if you go into that, technically we do have pieces that go together in that fashion, but this blog has already seen its fair share of dirty jokes. Well, what if I make the necessary notches? Here's the bit you won't like.

Upon boarding these new buses, one will not go on and find a seat. Why? Because I removed all the seats!

No, you aren't doomed to a terrible fate of having to stand either. I'm going to shove all of you into tiny little dark boxes that fit together like Lego.

Now, that wasn't a very good way of putting it, was it? They aren't tiny necessarily, but rather just space efficient. You're going to be given just enough space to wiggle around and then a bit. By dark I mean that you're not really going to be doing much for the duration of this ride, so think of it as an express hibernation pod in a way. Play some Coldplay while you're in there to kill time or just fall asleep (which you probably will do anyways because you're listening to Coldplay).

Now, Lego is the major selling point on this idea (but the other two bits sound quite lovely, do they not)? These pieces will lock in to the chassis of the bus so that they're secured for the ride. This will make space efficiency very high despite the fact that it's a giant can of meat bodies hurtling down the highway that could be decimated by one wrong turn. Don't be surprised to get off the bus one day and notice you're missing a liver either.

Support for fat people should mandate that other specialty buses be chartered with extra large compartments, just so that they don't feel segregated in any way, shape, or form. The disabled shouldn't be a problem since they're just lying down anyways.

Excuse my poor drawing skills. The compartments will open at the tip of the left side of the radical compartment, and the space there is for your personal effects. Climb up, lie down, and stop complaining. There's other dudes stacked on top, below, and to your left and right and they aren't bitching.

Notice the shape of each compartment. You can guess what I think about most of the day. 

SimulView Assvertisements

Man is not a perfect being. He may not always remember where he left the TV remote. He may not always remember that he left Chinese takeout leftovers in the fridge for the past two weeks. And of course, he may not always stay true in going about in his daily activities. Yes, that's right, I'm talking about when we check out other people's asses.

You know you've done it. We've all done it. Somehow it grabs our attention wherever you go, drawing your eyes to it no matter how you try to avoid looking at it. It's a major distraction, and you know you can't afford to be lost in it, but you do anyways. The form, the subtlety, the abstractness of the lady behind. It's a beautiful thing.

And then you realize that you're in public and that you should stop staring. Yes, as much fun as it is to describe how much fun it is to stare at asses, we should get back to the idea. Whatever it was...

...uhhh... something about advertising... right. You ever seen one of those SimulView TVs from Sony? It uses 3D tech to filter out images through a pair of 3D glasses so that two people can see different images on a single display simultaneously.

Here we go again with a joint idea. Along the lines of edible potato LCD monitors and 3D
Ass Adverts. A super duper organic LCD monitor mimic cotton (because science is never a limit to awesome ideas) will replace all tight fitting female clothing and will become a standard in fashion. While other females wouldn't see anything on their clothing, the nanomachines (that are being snuck into your soy milk) within the optic nerves of the male will layer on an advert on the more delicate lady parts that they see every day, with their clothing being the projectors. It'll be as if it's popping out in your face (in more ways than one)!

Super duper not-spying-on-you Google Cloud technology will tailor ads specific to your needs and the context, though I'm a bit afraid that the ads will only pop of a certain subject... but that's their fault for provoking it. Some of them might not even mind.

Now the next time you're caught staring, rather than getting the death glare or a slap across the face, you can say:

"Hey, I was just checking out...the...new Tim Hortons ad..."

And of course some women could pay to create the illusion that they're more well endowed than they really are, adding to the list of things that gentlemen such as myself must watch out for. Among them are transvestites and 40 year old men with Bieber Fever.

I just watched the series finale of Being Erica (my posts get written quite far in advance). I normally don't  watch it, but dayum. Erin Karpluk. Dat be fine. But that definitely had nothing to do with the creation of this post.

Alex's Patented Who-The-F***-Was-That? Icebreakers

When was the last time you were walking down the street, minding your own business, when a screaming naked man comes running down the opposite direction, flailing his arms and screaming about pastries? The first thing you'd probably do is stop, stare at the person closest to you, and go "Who the F*** Was That?". It could be your best friend, it could be a stranger, it could even be that cute-girl-with-a-locker-down-the-hall-from-yours-with-the-plaid-skirt-and-straight-cut-bangs-that-hang-out-ever-so-slightly-so-that-it-looks-like... you get the point. So if it's the latter, (change the girl to a dude if you're into that) and you're as timid as a penguin in an ice floe full of leopard seals, just as I am, this is for you.

For the simple fee of $24.99 for each public appearance, I'll don my birthday suit and grease my body up so that I may leap before your beau's eyes like a gazelle. A streaking gazelle. She'll (or he'll) be so shocked that any small talk you make with her/him will seem normal. If you can hear over the surrounding shouts of surprise of everyone else clamouring about the buttered-up-dude-running-around-the-park-with-a-potted-plant-covering-his-crotch, you could talk about how random the buttered-up-dude-running-around-the-park-with-a-potted-plant-covering-his-crotch was. Advise to leave the area when he comes up to you and starts doing the can-can in front of the other, and take the opportunity to try to invite them to the coffee shop. Or Timmys down the street. Or your place.

For an additional charge, I'll show up in a private space and scare the s*** out of the other. You can than proceed to beat the shit out of me in an attempt to save the other's innocence, making you look like the hero.

After I have enough customers to build up a decent fan base with rave reviews, I'll start advertising to the general public. Appearances in public places, like at the Statue of Liberty, the Taj Mahal, and in the medicine cabinet in your personal washroom. Soon everyone around the world will know of me. I'll make viral videos on youtube of me streaking through Harvard University, through a minefield in Iraq, and underwater on a glass-bottom-boat tour. With movie magic (AKA Adobe After Effects), i'll have been there at scenic places such as Tianmen Square during the "peaceful" protests, Warsaw during the invasion from Germany, and Obama's inauguration. The propoganda will rise and set the world into chaos. Where will the naked man show up next? There are so many ideas and mediums to be explored. Soon everyone will have seen the slippery Chinese man with the petunia crotch.

This post wasn't about streaking, it was about building enterprises. Of streakers.