Enough To Make A Luddite Cry

Now, it's hard to be replaced. But it's even harder to be replaced when the guy stabs you in the back and it's only being done because some guy thinks you're not hip enough with a young audience.

When I was younger, I used to watch Saturday morning television. (Now, that's my sleepy time - unless I get up before 10:30, in which case I wonder if maybe I should go out and get some breakfast at McDonalds, because I motherfucking love breakfast at McDonalds.) And on those Saturday mornings, there used to be ads for cereals.

And one of them was Alpha-Bits.

The Alpha-Bits used to have a cereal mascot named The Wizard, who did magical things with his magical wands to kids cereal after he invaded their homes. But it's cool, because he was an unfuckable cereal warlock.

And so it was, that he continued to advertise. Unlike the thief-in-the-night Trix Rabbit, the steroid-enhanced uber-competitor Tony The Tiger, and the paranoid Irish Lucky from Lucky Charms, this guy just worked his shit then left.

Then somewhere, deep in the dark of corporate cereal advertising, disfavour fell on our necromancer. And this spelled his doom.

In the next series of ads, a sidekick appeared for The Wizard. It was Alpha.

And then, over the next series of ads, Alpha wasn't just the sidekick anymore. He was the icon now. And the Wizard went out the way anymore.

Because the new will always eat the old, even after the old has helped the new out.

The Wizard wasn't new, either. There used to be Loveable Truly, the Alpha-Bits postman who delivered the cereal and shit. He replaced the Wizard. And while I haven't seen it, I'm sure somewhere out there there exists a television ad where Loveable Truly is introducing his new friend, The Wizard.

The Modesty of the Kool-Aid Man

The Kool-Aid Man is classic marketing. I'm sure all of us would like a glass to burst through solid concrete and replenish us with flavour. However, he's undergone a change in the recent past.

This is the classic Kool-Aid Man, with ice in his head, pitcher in hand, and the threat of destruction in his eyes. The symbol of corporate liberation we've all come to love. The sheer naked libido of flavour.

However, the Kool-Aid Man is changing. This is what he looks like now

You'll notice one thing - pants and a loose shirt. And shoes. I'm guessing somebody realized that the Kool-Aid Man was essentially bare-ass naked through all these years, jumping through peoples walls and going Oh yeah! That's a prelude to a sexual assault, man, if you're going that way. Although I guess if you probably were going to sexually assault someone, it would probably be the best way possible.

And you know, I can just see some marketing guy trying to re-invigorate the fucking Kool Aid Man by giving him cargo shorts and sneakers.

Hey, marketing guys - why no bulge in his pants? If he's been naked all this time and you finally constrained him, why no bulge?

Man, times like this I wish at the Kraft Foods marketing meeting wall, grab all those lousy marketing pigs, and just drown him in himself.

"Oh yeah!"

I'm also going to write about the betrayal of the Alphabits wizard. Because this is what I and many others like myself think about. And the Kool-Aid Man's anatomy.

Because I Like To Steal Things From Dead People

Here's a speech Mark Twain gave about jerking off to some friends. Because he writes better than me.

My gifted predecessor has warned you against the "social evil--adultery." In his able paper he exhausted that subject; he left absolutely nothing more to be said on it. But I will continue his good work in the cause of morality by cautioning you against that species of recreation called self-abuse to which I perceive you are much addicted. All great writers on health and morals, both ancient and modern, have struggled with this stately subject; this shows its dignity and importance. Some of these writers have taken one side, some the other.

Homer, in the second book of the Iliad says with fine enthusiasm, "Give me masturbation or give me death." Caesar, in his Commentaries, says, "To the lonely it is company; to the forsaken it is a friend; to the aged and to the impotent it is a benefactor. They that are penniless are yet rich, in that they still have this majestic diversion." In another place this experienced observer has said, "There are times when I prefer it to sodomy."

Robinson Crusoe says, "I cannot describe what I owe to this gentle art." Queen Elizabeth said, "It is the bulwark of virginity." Cetewayo, the Zulu hero, remarked, "A jerk in the hand is worth two in the bush." The immortal Franklin has said, "Masturbation is the best policy."

Michelangelo and all of the other old masters--"old masters," I will remark, is an abbreviation, a contraction--have used similar language. Michelangelo said to Pope Julius II, "Self- negation is noble, self-culture beneficent, self-possession is manly, but to the truly great and inspiring soul they are poor and tame compared with self-abuse." Mr. Brown, here, in one of his latest and most graceful poems, refers to it in an eloquent line which is destined to live to the end of time--"None knows it but to love it; none name it but to praise."

Such are the utterances of the most illustrious of the masters of this renowned science, and apologists for it. The name of those who decry it and oppose it is legion; they have made strong arguments and uttered bitter speeches against it--but there is not room to repeat them here in much detail. Brigham Young, an expert of incontestable authority, said, "As compared with the other thing, it is the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning." Solomon said, "There is nothing to recommend it but its cheapness." Galen said, "It is shameful to degrade to such bestial uses that grand limb, that formidable member, which we votaries of Science dub the Major Maxillary--when they dub it at all--which is seldom, It would be better to amputate the os frontis than to put it to such use."

The great statistician Smith, in his report to Parliament, says, "In my opinion, more children have been wasted in this way than any other." It cannot be denied that the high antiquity of this art entitles it to our respect; but at the same time, I think its harmfulness demands our condemnation. Mr. Darwin was grieved to feel obliged to give up his theory that the monkey was the connecting link between man and the lower animals. I think he was too hasty. The monkey is the only animal, except man, that practices this science; hence, he is our brother; there is a bond of sympathy and relationship between us. Give this ingenuous animal an audience of the proper kind and he will straightway put aside his other affairs and take a whet; and you will see by his contortions and his ecstatic expression that he takes an intelligent and human interest in his performance.

The signs of excessive indulgence in this destructive pastime are easily detectable. They are these: a disposition to eat, to drink, to smoke, to meet together convivially, to laugh, to joke and tell indelicate stories--and mainly, a yearning to paint pictures. The results of the habit are: loss of memory, loss of virility, loss of cheerfulness and loss of progeny.

Of all the various kinds of sexual intercourse, this has the least to recommend it. As an amusement, it is too fleeting; as an occupation, it is too wearing; as a public exhibition, there is no money in it. It is unsuited to the drawing room, and in the most cultured society it has long been banished from the social board. It has at last, in our day of progress and improvement, been degraded to brotherhood with flatulence. Among the best bred, these two arts are now indulged in only private--though by consent of the whole company, when only males are present, it is still permissible, in good society, to remove the embargo on the fundamental sigh.

My illustrious predecessor has taught you that all forms of the "social evil" are bad. I would teach you that some of these forms are more to be avoided than others. So, in concluding, I say, "If you must gamble your lives sexually, don't play a lone hand too much." When you feel a revolutionary uprising in your system, get your Vendome Column down some other way--don't jerk it down.

Other Songs I Would Do If I Were In A Band

5. John Stamos Will Have His Revenge

This possible song was inspired by when I was watching a family member flip through the tv and I saw John Stamos saying he was "furious" about something. What could make John Stamos furious? This song will explain:

"John Stamos was a mack
And he was on attack
That night when he was up at Club 69
When he saw two barely legal twins looking fine
Turns out they were Mary Kate and Ash-lee
Fucked em and made call him uncle Jes-see
And when some mofucker released the tapes
He screamed

[Chorus]
John Stamos will have his revenge!
x3

World's Richest Man

Say goodbye, Gates. Death has come to your throne of world's richest man - you shouldn't have given all that money away. Now, it belongs to a man they call Carlos Slim, which is a great name for anyone, but especially, the world's richest man.

He's a telecom giant, and a secret to his success was that he bought a lot of companies when they were doing poorly during the 80s financial crises in Latin America. Now, they're doing well, so he's doing pretty well.

And he's the son of Lebanese immigrants and he lives in Mexico. So hey, Bill Gates, if you want to go back on top and let him be top, crush something, establish more of a monopoly, kick Steve Job in the teeth and make it a PC world. You gotta do something, man. You didn't not get laid in high school for this. Go, Gates, go!

Here's the article so you may read it.