Proof-Facts

A couple of weeks back the Magna Carta (of disobedience) was driving down the main road in his town ( a smaller town consisting of about 10,000 people) when a large man on a four-wheeler decides it would be awesome and prudent to cut him off.  This set him off of course, so he yelled some things in his car as went to pass the guy.  It happened that his windows were down and the man heard him and replied by calling him asshole and saying that they could pull over and fight if he wanted.  Sweetness (Magna Carta a.k.a. Sweetness) couldn’t believe his ears so he pulled over and went up to the guy.  This guy was a larger fellow as I mentioned so Sweetness decided that full intimidation was needed before they would come to blows.  So he started yelling, not words but just noises and beating his chest in a quote “mad man beast mode”.  This tactic was followed by dropping to all fours and completing several mule kicks into the air while yelling “he-haw, he he-haw.”  It was at this point the four-wheeler rider had seen enough and remounted his machine saying “Fuck this, you’re crazy.”  Sweetness, undeterred, continued his mule kicks and he-hawing until another pedestrian, an older lady, pulled over and asked if he was okay.  He said he was fine and proceeded to his mother’s house for dinner.

For those of you who don’t know what a mule kick is, it’s simple.  Ask yourself how does a mule kick?  Rear legs only, so thats how you do it.  Hands on the ground, and kick your feet out into the air making mule sounds.  The moral of the story is that Sweetnees is a grizzly damn bear and anyone else would have gotten their ass kicked like a little 12 year old girl so go fuck yourself.

I have a friend,  The Magna Carta of Disobedience (Magna Carta for short) who is a manager of the second shift at a factory.   Since the recession they have had to let a few people go, and then when they get bigger orders are using temp workers to meet demand.  Now anyone who has dealt with temp agencies knows the kind of BS you can get drifting in.  In light of this fact, the Magna Carta prides himself on running a tight ship.

Anyway, one afternoon a temp worker who the Magna Carta claims looks as if he’s been doing crank for the last week straight is screwing up constantly and cause the Magna Carta a bit of trouble.  So as he’s apt to do, he let the guy know how unhappy he was by slamming the 25o pound steel workbench against wall, causing even more damage to some of the product.  Now the real trouble starts, this crackhead has caused the Magna Carta to damage some product with his stupidity, this cannot pass.  So, he lights a cigarette and berates the guy while blowing smoke in his face until ultimately the following took place:

MC: You can leave now, or we can fight when I’m done with this cigarette.

Crackhead: Fuck off

Anyone who knows the MC at all can tell you that Mr. Crackhead has made a mistake.  The Magna Carta immediately flicks his cigarette to the floor and swings on the guy.  Luckily for the dopehead he has uber reaction time (probably do to the crank) and evades the punch and sprints to his car not to be seen for days, until spotted walking down the street in 45 degree weather topless, because he’s hard.

Anyway, while conveying this story to me, I asked if he had any repercussions from the confrontation and was met with a swift, but  slightly confusing dismissal:

MC: “There are two kinds of people at work, Wyatt Earp, and dirt.  I’m Wyatt FUCKING Earp with my .45′s ready.

Me:  “Well, anyone who’s anyone knows that.”

MC: “I don’t have to take any shit from these Endangered Species sensitive guys, with their emo haircuts.

Me: “Endangered Species Sensitive?

MC: “Damn straight, those animals are too sensitive to survive, I won’t suffer them.”

Me: “You shoudn’t have to.”

A Toilet Seat Disaster is exactly what it sounds like. It is when your toilet seat has encountered a natural, or even unnatural, disaster.

This could possibly be the holy grail of toilet seat disasters. In fact, I just puked a little bit in my mouth.

Most people that I know usually give the toilet seat a wipe down just before taking a seat, regardless of whether you find some sort of substance on the seat or if it is apparently “clean.”

Well what do you do when you find shit smeared on the toilet seat? Yes, you heard that right, human shit smeared on a toilet seat. I hope the first thing you did after reading that was think, “How the hell does shit get smeared into a toilet seat?”, because that is exactly what went through my mind as I encountered this at work the other day.

The next thing that goes through one’s mind is, “Do I wipe this off, I mean it is someone else’s shit?” The answer to that is obviously NO, people get paid low wages to do that for you. I don’t care if you wipe it down then put numerous sanitary seat covers on it, there is still human shit deep in that seat. The only obvious way to get out of this, is to find a new stall and enjoy your, hopefully, shitless toilet seat.

First of all, I have never seen The Lake House. Why you ask, well, the name sucks big monkey balls. I don’t understand how the producers, marketing people, and director didn’t think to change the name.

Let’s look at the facts:

1. Keanu Reeves sends letters through a mailbox into the future/past (i don’t know which, I didn’t see the damn thing).

2. That chick from ‘the net’ sends mail through the mailbox back to Keanu.

3. Somehow they fall in love without ever meeting, but maybe one of them dies or some shit nobody cares about.

4. They both lived in a house by a lake.

Now, out of these plot points which is the most interesting? It ain’t retarded ass people sending mail to themselves (who the fuck does that?). It ain’t two losers in their forties who can’t get a date. So yeah, I think we should go with the time travel aspect of this pile of crap.

I have done extensive statistical analysis (Math Minor) on this and I have determined that if they would have named this movie Time Travel Mailbox instead of The Lake House their profits would have increased at least six fold. Unsuspecting people would have had their interest piqued by the possibilities of Mailbox time travel would have surely been disappointed, but that isn’t the point. Dollar Bills are point. Hollywood needs to let me name movies. Hell they need to let me make movies. Batman 3-Oceans 14 anyone?

There is proof of perpetual motion that has escaped scientists for years. The idea that perpetual motion is fantasy can be disproved with two words:

 Parkinson's Disease.

Think about it, has anyone ever seen someone afflicted by this miracle of science/debilitating disease stop moving. It amazes me how simple facts like these can escape people for so long. I should have been a scientist, I’d be rich by now.