I’m going to fix that, but for now check out this dude- fucking rocks it explaining why he’s for Obama. The reason I usually shake my head all election year is that you rarely see people basing their allegiance to a candidate or party on actual policy. We all need to be this informed.

(link for feedreaders)

I’m totally catching up on what I know about the potential candidates. Seen on tony pierce’s Busblog.

Last night I was confronted by something extremely troubling.

Something that even as I witnessed it my mind tried desperately to dismiss. Like the fannypack, it simply should not exist, yet there it was.

A seven-person bike.

Seven. I had to count them a couple times.

Check it out here. (link)

It’s exactly the same bike. And coincidentally it was helmed by exactly the same pretentiously hip seven people with exactly the same “Wheeeee- follow us to the grocery co-op!” look on their faces.

I got home and what was Heidi’s response?

“You know the only thing better than seeing a seven-person bike? Seeing it hit by a car. That would be hilarious- seven people flying all over the place.”

I am married to the most perfect piece of perfect perfection.

If you ever build a time machine, and you go back to prior Y2K, there is one major development of our era that absolutely no one will believe.

By the time Britney Spears ever poses nude (and we all know she’s got to be just one more failed marriage/tv-show away), no one will care.

I swear, you tell our past selves that and you’ll be burnt as a witch. Prior to 2000 I thought she was going to get her own cult. Thank you, Mr. Federline, for helping us focus on more important issues.

Doesn’t anyone realize that they’re not watching reality TV?

Survivor, Fear Factor, The Apprentice, The Bachelor…

They’re game shows.

Just packaged differently, like those salads in a bag that get us to pay four times as much for lettuce.

Uncle Eddie has an assignment for you kids.

Ready?

Go get a baseball bat. Wooden preferably. We don’t want anyone getting killed here or losing an eye. Unless you simply have to hear that satisfying little “ting.”

Got it? Nice.

Now take that bat and hide out in a local public restroom. Check the stall after each person does their business.

Not to worry, I don’t want you doing anything sick. I’m not here to have you compromise your morals- you don’t even have to look into the bowl.

We’re hunting here. Hunting down the OCD nutjobs who leave behind their nasty toilet paper nests on public toilet seats. Apparently their asses are far too valuble to touch a public toilet, but it’s a privelage for us to have to remove it when they’re done? Ohhhh I long for the day when we will exact sweet, sweet vengance.

Simply: they. must. be. stopped.

And I envision a day- A glorious day when the people rise up to rid the land of their scourge.

“Hide In a Public Restroom Stall With a Louisville Slugger Day.”

Do you hear it? Do you hear the countless generations who came before us calling out for us to avenge them? Do you hear the hum of our collective anger finally reaching critical mass? It can all end with a flush and a thud- or a ting, of course, if you insist.

I’m thinking if we all go to our bosses with the idea we could get it off with pay.

Who’s with me?