RUFKM Worldwide Complex, flanked by the RUFKM Technology Labs.

Here at RUFKM, we pride ourselves on being at the cutting edge of journalism, entertainment, modern thought, cybernetics and even salsa, with RUFKM Brand Salsa consistently selling out of stores in the countries where we’re allowed to sell it. But that’s not all we’re about. Our world famous “13 Stupid Questions” alone has single-handedly changed the lives of hundreds of people, thousands of times. While this alone is enough to guarantee our immortality, we are never content to rest. No, innovation is the key here at RUFKM, and I’m proud to say that we’ve yet again leapfrogged the competition with our latest ingenious creation.

The Mighty RUFKM InterBrain Personality Simulation Station allows us unprecedented access to the greatest entertainers and personalities of all time by analyzing every bit of information available on the internet and recreating a person of our choosing for personality simulation. By creating a digital clone of the celebrity brain, we can interview that person and get the exact same answers we would have gotten from the real one, sixty five percent of the time, thirty five percent of the time. Our first subject, Mel Gibson, went insane and committed cyber-suicide. For our second attempt we figured since the first guy went insane, we’ll pick a guy who already IS insane, minimizing the chances that anything could go wrong. As before, the interview was conducted at the RUFKM Technology Labs with RUFKM Cybernetics Division head Takashi Hakashi at my side.

The Mighty RUFKM InterBrain.

RUFKM: Good morning Charlie, thanks for joining us today.

Charlie Sheen: No sweat bitches, always glad to rap with my bitches at RUFKM.

RUFKM: Wow Takashi, it sounds like a real person this time.

Takashi: A real person that says ‘bitches’ a lot.

Charlie Sheen: Don’t talk about me like I’m not here, shithead. I’m Charlie Fucking Sheen. I’ll have you erased.

RUFKM: So Charlie, we understand you have an announcement to make.

Charlie Sheen: I had my named legally changed to that, you know. Charlie Fucking Sheen. Look it up.

RUFKM: We believe you, Charlie.

Charlie Sheen: Well here’s the other thing you’d better believe. All those rumors and things you’re hearing about me are crap. I do not make my brother Emilio sleep at the foot of my bed.

RUFKM: Why don’t we get to the reason you’re here, Charlie.

Charlie Sheen: Let’s kill it, brother. As all of you know, I recently was the victim of an accident when I accidentally got an ulcer while accidentally getting into a briefcase full of…I mean…hookers. A briefcase full of hookers. Cheerleaders. Girls. Just girls. Nobody got touched. We were just watching Spike TV and taking some…I mean having some lines of…I mean cups of coffee.

RUFKM: That must have been…terrible? I guess?

Charlie Sheen: Terrible for those hookers…I mean bitches…girls…if they say anything about the video…video games…we were making…I mean playing.

RUFKM: We understand the paramedics came, Charlie.

Charlie Sheen: Did they ever. But they were fireman paramedics. Well…fire women. Fire Babes. Yeah, those chicks were solid.

RUFKM: Fire Babes? Takashi, do they have those in Los Angeles?

Takashi: I went to Stanford so…I never went any further south than Palo Alto.

RUFKM: Always studying. So Charlie, you wanted to do something for those uh, Fire Babes.

Charlie Sheen: That’s right bitches, this is a shout out to the Fire Babes of the Beverly Hills Fire Department. They saved my life. Without me there’d be only One and a Half Men, and brother that’s just not enough men.

RUFKM: Not nearly enough, Charlie. So in your world, only men are bitches?

Charlie Sheen: Just fire up some music, bitches.(Click here to drop Charlie’s mad interview jam)

Fire Babe #1

This one sure nows how to swing an axe at an ex. I mean, an axe.

Fire Babe #1, thank you for saving me, bitch. You are beautiful and hot, and you are every bit as hot as you are beautiful. But I also love you because you’re smart. Restrictive clothing in a fire situation could be the difference between life and death. MY life and death. But I know there’s a brain behind those whatever the fuck color they are eyes. The less clothing you have on, the smaller the chances of them catching on fire. But the more likely YOU are to get hosed off. And by hosed off, I mean hitting it with your Uncle Charlie. That’s right, I said that.

Fire Babe #2

I like things that strap on. Because it is convenient, of course.

I like the way you think, Fire Babe #2, and I want to make sure to thank you in front of America for it. You knew a shirt wasn’t really necessary. Just a cloth to cover your mouth, and some protection for your sexy legs – that’s all you need, baby. But wait…what’s this? You have elected to wear your suspenders! I like that. It means you can keep your arms around your precious cargo – me – without your pants falling down. But don’t worry sweet pea, we can take care of that when we get outside.

Fire Babe #3

The creative types really do it for me.

Damn, Fire Babe #3! You got Charlie feeling pretty freaky right now! I really don’t know what I’m gonna do with you tonight, but we’ll get to it a lot faster in that lingerie. I see what you’re going for here. Losing those heavy bunker pants allows for greater flexibility and movement, meaning you can save me faster. Those gloves will keep you from burning your hands – on me – and the hat will make sure everyone knows you’re in charge. And you know how much I love being told what to do. Ha! At first I wasn’t sure why you’d need suspenders in an outfit like that, but then I remembered that they’re as much fun to get out of as they are to get in to. Plus, they keep your nipples from getting too hot. We can take care of that when we get outside.

Fire Babe #4

Hey...wait a minute...

Whoa, hold up bitch. What’s this? You’re dressed like a Fire Babe, but you’re in stiletto heels, which of course you’ll need if you want to come up into Charlie’s crib. I can also tell you’re not wearing panties, which is also a plus on Planet Sheen. Your equipment doesn’t look heavy, but I can tell it’s filled with…something. Is it fire extinguishing foam? Or maybe just whipped cream? Don’t tell me it’s hot caramel or you’re gonna freak Charlie out, bitch. That reminds me…your outfit looks like latex, which means it’ll be perfect for…well…we can take care of that when we get outside.

Fire Babe #5

Holy shit.

Holy shit. There’s no way you’re a real Fire Babe. But damn, I sure am glad I had that ulcer. Excuse me while I make Wild Turkey my exclusive beverage, because I want to see you every week, woman. Which reminds me, that hose had better spray champagne, because I got a hot tub AND a room full of strippers, and Charlie can’t fill them all.

RUFKM: Charlie I think we need to stop here. We’re running out of time and you’re also being incredibly sexist.

Charlie Sheen: Of course I’m sexy. I’m Charlie Fucking Sheen. And I was just getting started, fools. That’s just the bottom five. I got 95 more bitches to go.

RUFKM: Charlie, are you sure these are the actual first responders who treated you?

Charlie Sheen: Fuck that, I was having an epic house party. I had a hundred hot bitches show up to pleasure me. Luckily, when my stomach exploded it turned out about half of them were in nursing school.

Takashi: You disgust me, Mr. Sheen.

Charlie Sheen: I don’t even know who you are, maggot.

RUFKM: I’m not too disgusted for some chicken wings. Who’s with me?

Charlie Sheen: Fuck yeah. I’ll drive.

Takashi: You’re a machine. And you still disgust me.

Charlie Sheen: Can it, Kato. I got a Bentley for every day of the week. I fly you buy. I just got to make a quick stop and pick up some party favors. And some bitches.

RUFKM: Let’s roll.

Wings were had, and Computer Charlie Sheen did indeed secure more bitches. Meanwhile, the RUFKM InterBrain project went back to the drawing board. Perhaps someday, a simulated interview can be conducted without the subject purchasing cocaine and hiring 150 Asian hookers. Perhaps the real Charlie Sheen will clean himself up and get some help. We sure hope not, because computer Charlie Sheen was a shit load of fun.

This is Jack “Longshanks” Burton, crawling underneath his desk to sleep for three days.

Palin's infamous map, with a target over Dallas.

Wasilla, Alaska – Today, in an eight minute recorded video message to her supporters, former not-quite-one-term Alaska Governor Sarah Palin lashed out at her critics. Shown seated in her living room in front of an enormous American flag similar to the one most Americans have inside their own homes, Palin angrily brushed off culpability for a recent shooting in which a prominent American figure was gravely injured. Palin specifically targeted “the media”, which as a well paid Fox News political analyst she is not a part of.

“It saddens me that within hours of this unspeakable tragedy, journalizers and pudnits implified that certain people were inspired by certain other people, which you betcha I completely refudimate.”

Ewing, not standing in front of an American Flag.

Palin was speaking of a recent attempt made on the life of  controversial Dallas businessman John Ross Ewing, who was targeted by Palin during the 2010 mid-term elections for not owning any oil wells on government wetlands. Palin’s website famously posted a graphic highlighting the location of many well known Americans who did not own enough guns, eat enough red meat, or have gigantic American flags prominently displayed in their living rooms. In the wake of the tragedy, speculation has run rampant that the contentious American political landscape – and by extension Palin – is to blame. Figures such as the former beauty queen turned politician turned reality show host have been under increased public scrutiny.

The alleged shooter.

Ewing was allegedly stalked by his sister in law, with whom he’d allegedly carried on an lurid affair for several alleged years. 29 year old Kristen Shepard is described by Dallas Police as “deranged”, “disturbed” and “a hot little piece of ass”. At her arraignment, Shepard claimed that she had been carrying Ewing’s child, and that he pressured her into terminating the pregnancy – a charge Ewing’s family denies. According to information obtained by RUFKM Worldwide, the weapon allegedly used in the crime was registered to Shepard, but in violation of Texas state law, it was the only firearm she owned. Shepard has also been described as “vegan”, and is not known to own any American flags, or even any clothing that looks like an American flag.

“She’s a sickening monster,” said Dallas Police Chief David O. Brown.

Like most Texans, Shepard wears lots of makeup and is a registered Republican, but she is not known to have any direct ties to the former attempted Vice President. She did however take second place in a Palin lookalike contest at the 33rd annual “Hook ‘em & Book ‘em” law enforcement rally. Held in Dallas, the event features food, fun, live music and public executions. Palin herself has attended in the past.

Still, the former three-quarters-of-one-term Governor made no apologies.

“It is irresponsible to suggest that toning down the level of our political discourse is in any way appropriate or helpful. Anger, fear, paranoia and incredibly dangerous weapons are what puts food on my table – they are the guiding principles that made this country great.”

Palin rejected the suggestion that she and others like her had contributed to an overheated political atmosphere, skillfully using violent imagery to deny the notion that she is prone to using violent imagery: “…when was it less heated? Back in those “calm days” when political figures literally settled their differences with dueling pistols?”

But perhaps the most polarizing moment of Palin’s eight minute rebuttal was this statement:

The KADL was outraged.

“I do not condorn these monstrous actions,” Palin continued. “And those who seek to silence the voices of freedom in this country have ganged up on me to fabrimacate a gigantic blood pie, and that is just wrong.”

Use of the term “blood pie” has inflamed an often overlooked segment of society that for generations has been the target of scorn and prejudice worldwide.

“We are shocked and saddened that Governor Palin has chosen to defame our people and our culture by appropriating this term,” said Korn Guradh, chairman of the Klingon Anti-Defamation League (KADL). “Rokeg blood pie is our most sacred dish, eaten on the Day of Honor by only the bravest of warriors, as they reflect upon their past glories and drink Raktajino from the skulls of their enemies.”

Palin’s supporters were quick to come to her defense. Fellow Fox News commentator Bill O’Reilly, who is also not part of “the media”, had this to say in a statement released this morning:

O'Reilly brought his rugged good looks to Palin's defense.

“Has anyone ever heard of a little thing called the First Amendment? Now, the liberals want us to believe that its wrong to target your political enemies with violent imagery and to make vague, indirect suggestions of physical aggression! That’s just nonsense – what happened to the America I knew as a boy?”

Most Americans remain skeptical of the connection between Palin’s rhetoric and the attack. According to a poll taken in the parking lot of the Circle K across the street from RUFKM Worldwide headquarters, 74 percent of respondents did not feel that “toxic politics” was responsible for the attack. The remaining 26 percent were trying to purchase Four Loko before supplies ran out.

"Oops"

Still, there are some who feel that the tone of political debate in America has grown excessively sharp in recent years. Ewing Oil Public Relations Director Matt Delange had this to say about Palin:

“I don’t think that map with the gun sights over Dallas had anything to do with this, but that time she shot a picture of Mr. Ewing in the face with a deer rifle while wearing a flag bikini was a little over the top.”

Upon reflection, even members of the Klingon Anti-Defamation League seemed sympathetic.

“Honestly, the only thing Sarah Palin is guilty of is bad taste,” said Rodaqa Kahl’Kah, president of the Dallas Chapter. “I mean, using violent imagery and brutally provocative language to intimidate your opponents is definitely the Klingon way but for human weaklings, it is probably just childish .”

Kahl’Kah offered a final word of advice for Palin:

“I’m sure it was all just a coincidence. But the least she could do is say ‘oops’.”

XTRANORMAL.COM VERSION:

It is a well-known and accepted fact that all people, excluding Pauly Shore, fall into either one of two categories: those who are in on the joke and everyone else. Not to further unfairly perpetuate broad stereotypes but telemarketers as a rule without exception always fall into the latter.

Just Google “telemarketers” one day when you are supposed to be working and you’ll understand. There are the obligatory websites from telemarketers decrying that they are in fact real people with real feelings and other such nonsense. More importantly some 2,980,000 hits come up with different ways that you can entertain yourself at a telemarketer’s expense.

I will kill that bitch if she doesn't get her hands off my cheese.

I’m going to save you some time and tell you now that all these other posts are amateurish, juvenile, lacking any real sense of creativity and are simply just not fun.

You’re in luck since Captain Boondoggle is willing to share a little step-by-step plan for your endless entertainment that is simply entitled “Engaging a Telemarketer in a Nonsensical Conversation”.

Before I can unload such a prescriptive roadmap for your entertainment, there are two critical pieces of information that you have to understand to be successful:

1. Telemarketers read from a script and have prepared answers to any of your possible objections.

2. Forcing them to deviate from the script causes them to have epileptic seizures.

Let’s begin with a transcript of a recent call I received:

And….. scene.

It’s 6:30 pm Thursday. Phone rings. Caller ID Reads “A M Mortgage Co.”

Telemarketer (TM): Click….”Hello is Mr. Boondoggle available?”

ME: “I speak for Mr. Boondoggle.”

TM: “Mr. Boondoggle this is Jeff from A M Mortgage Co. and rates are really low right now, how do you feel about saving money on your mortgage?”

ME: “Do you like cheese?”

TM: “……..We can refinance with…uh…no cash….and uh…and lock in a rate….”

ME: “I said, DO YOU LIKE CHEESE?”

TM: “…uh…yes.”

ME: “yes, what?”

Oh, Sweet Delight! Lactose Nirvana!

TM: “ummm…uh…I like cheese?”

NOTE: This is what we in the business like to call “taking control of the conversation” and showing that you are the true alpha dog by not answering any question directed to you.

Undoubtedly, his passing will be met with derision and jokes from those outside of the metal community. For those of us that grew up with the music, it is the loss of a founding father of metal.

I will admit I didn’t know his work that well and really only starting listening to him these last few years. I always knew of him, it is impossible to be an old-school metal fan and not know the contributions of Dio. I knew he was Ozzy Osbourne’s replacement in Black Sabbath. After that he went solo and released a number of successful albums spawning hits like “Holy Diver” and “Rainbow in the Dark”. The songs really came alive with the music videos. They usually depicted Dio wielding a huge sword smiting monsters and demons and rescuing damsels in distress. They were deliciously cheesy, hilarious, and rather incomprehensible. I loved them. Most recently, Dio and Black Sabbath had reformed under the name “Heaven & Hell” and were prepping a tour for the summer.

While Dio was a talented musician and a powerhouse singer, his most lasting legacy wasn’t even the music at all. It was the hand sign known as the devil horns. There is considerable debate as to who first started throwing the horns on stage as Gene Simmons has also laid claim to it. Naturally. Of course Gene Simmons has claimed he invented, among other things, the combustion engine, Sweet & Low, and water so his claims may be a bit dubious. No matter who first put up the horns, it was Dio’s use that popularized the gesture, forever changing the face of rock and roll and giving metal fans an international symbol that united them.

Rest in Peace, Dio. You will be missed and remembered.

They suck even more when you happen to be one of those unfortunate individuals that when you’re stung by one of the little terrorists you blow up like Martin Short in Pure Luck and then die a slow and agonizing death.

I’m Martin Short. Not in the way that I have no career, am short, and everyone confuses me with Dana Carvey, but in the way that when I’m stung I look like Oprah coming off an all night bender at a free ice-cream sundae buffet.

Of course by some cruel twist of fate, bees like me.

Not to exaggerate, but I’m telling you if it wasn’t a 100,000 bees it was 1,000,000.

So, much like the massively outnumbered Israeli Defense League mobilized against the Arab forces of Egypt, Jordon Syria and other assorted wackos in 1967, I did the same. I channeled the ghost of Yitzhak Rabin (Editor’s Note: We have not a clue about this obscure reference but this confirms the rumor that Boondoggle hangs out with Dennis Miller) and mobilized for war. A terrifying, but necessary war to save myself from total annihilation by the forces of the innumerable bee army.

The first artillery barrage involved sticking a garden hose into the bee hole and pumping approximately 6,250 gallons of municipal water into the hive. No effect after 6-hours, just mud and a ton of angry bees.

It was time to escalate and in the absence of ownership of Agent Orange, I elected to dump 3.2 gallons of gasoline down the hole thinking that the fumes would send them back to hell. Unfortunately, it should be noted that gasoline only makes bees angrier.

The effect was spectacular to the extent that I now had flaming bees flying around which strangely enough were still trying to kill me and even, perhaps, a little more angry than before. I must admit you have not lived until you’ve seen burning bees lighting up the night sky on a calm summer evening.

By all accounts the devil bees should have all died that day from the same fire and brimstone in which they came from.

I was wrong, so wrong.

The next morning they were back, flying around the hole on alert and ready to attack once again. My next somewhat coherent thought was maybe if they couldn’t get back into the little bee passageway they would just leave peacefully much like the Egyptians in Gaza Strip so I covered the hole with three shovel fulls of prime Midwestern dirt and went about my way.

For your information, bees don’t retreat. Never. Now instead of being in their hole the next morning about 65,000 infantry bees were buzzing around the next morning aimed for the attack because they couldn’t get in.

One other note, sister-in-laws are no help in killing bees or warfare in general. Mine stood and watched the battle and offered superfluous comments such as “The bees really look angry now” and “It’s a good thing you didn’t burn the house down”.

One other word of caution; Wet-Dry vacs do not kill bees. Bees kill Wet-Dry vacs.

I imagine at this time you are thinking, “Are you F—ing kidding me? This deathly allergic moron has spent five days trying to kill satan’s nest of bees and has only accomplished killing about 200, almost burned his house down, destroyed a perfectly good vacuum and now has no gasoline left for his lawn mower.” What can this freaking pumpkin-head do next?

Deadly chemicals that’s what. I bought 10 industrial fogger cans; duct taped them to a 10-foot pull, donned protective eyewear and a bandanna around my face and simultaneously, as a result of no small engineering feat, started all 10 foggers.

I almost died from the fumes, but it was a beautiful sight to behold. Toxic chemicals spewing everywhere, the death of all nearby plant life, paralysis in my right arm, bees and birds falling from the sky like rocks, a Superfund designation for my front porch.

Death, destruction, chaos and annihilation of all things bee-kind.

It was over, the bees were over. Ne
ver to return.

Occasionally to this very day, I see a single younger bee’s flight path veer towards the direction of my porch only to see a bunch of older bees stop the mission. I can only imagine what the older wiser bees tell the solitary suicide stinger to stop them in their path.

“Are you F—ing kidding me?”

(For those about to FARK we salute you!  If you came from FARK.COM and this is your first time at “Are You F–ing Kidding Me?” …… check out our other music related content.  There’s a ton of it including our popular “13 Stupid Questions” with bands like Tesla, Anthrax, and future rock stars like The Last Vegas and Charm City Devils.  Anyway, on with the show…. )

One Advantage of Being Dead

By TylerDFC 

A friend once told me that he believes he’s heard Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer” a million times over the course of his life. I told him I thought he was exaggerating and he drunkenly informed me that if you added up all the times he’s listened to the entire song, or part of the song, or seen the video it was at least a million. If we assume that “Living on a Prayer” is 3.5 minutes long you would have to listen to the song for a total of 6.5 YEARS in order to listen to it a million times. So I think my friend’s grasp on math basics can best be described as “loose”. However, he has a point. While a million is greatly exaggerated, I’m sure I’ve heard the song at least a 100 times if not more and it certainly FEELS like a million times. That is too damn many times to have wasted my life on an 80′s pop confection and I really don’t think I ever need to hear it again.

On that note, quite honestly if I have to listen to “Jamie’s Crying” one more time I think I am going to put my foot through my car stereo. When did music from 30 years ago refuse to die? Why do I know all the lyrics to “Money” by Pink Floyd even though:

1) I don’t like the song

2) I don’t own any Pink Floyd albums

Granted, most of this frustration is due to not having satellite radio and being forced to listen to the terrestrial stations. But why can I pick up 3 classic rock stations but no modern rock stations? Oh, I can pick up the Top 40 station if I want to hear Hinder and whatever abomination the Pussycat Dolls are pushing. And then there is the “We play anything!” station. Which is true as long as by anything you don’t mean; rap, metal, hard rock, r&b or anything that released before 1994 and you DO mean lots and lots of classic rock that you have heard over and over again, like “Money” and “Living on a Prayer”.

When you are dead and buried, or cremated, or disappear like Obi Wan did, these “classic rock” songs will still be around. They are immortal vampires that will slowly suck out your life’s blood while the chorus of “Hot Blooded” haunts your dreams.

More and more I think that the one advantage of death is never having to spend another minute listening to “The Boys are Back in Town”. Maybe this is why the elderly tend to be at peace in death and you hear phrases like, “He was ready to die”.

What could possibly make one “ready to die”? It has taken me some time but I think I’ve finally solved this conundrum. I think that once you hit 70 or 80 or even (gulp) 90 the mundane day-to-day tasks you have done every morning of your adult life are threatening to drive you stark raving bonkers if you have to do them one more time. I’ll give you an example. I hate shaving. Really, really hate it. Which is why I shave about every 3 days. Yes, by the 3^rd day I look like the low life Crockett would call when he needed someone to rat out the location of a big drug shipment but I simply don’t care. Such is my hatred for putting razor to flesh day after day after soul sucking day. Same with brushing my teeth or really any of the chores we participate in day in and day out to make ourselves presentable to the world.

Sometimes I think death would be preferable simply to escape the repetition and boredom of these soul sucking tasks.

Next time you are at a funeral and searching for something to say to the bereaved that doesn’t sound trite and cliche try this: “I’m very sorry for your loss. But you know, at least he doesn’t have to clip his toe nails anymore. Or listen to ‘Feel Like Making Love’ ever again.” Then give their shoulder a little squeeze and move to the sandwich table. I think they’ll appreciate your honest and unique take on the tragic passing of their beloved.

With every generation, there are pivotal moments in history that make you remember exactly where you were.  The JFK assassination, Challenger exploding, and 9/11.  For me, it was the day that my younger brother popped wood for the first time.  This is easy for me to recall because, unfortunately,  I was sitting right next to him along with an audience of 2,000 people, a singing and dancing Jesus, an assortment of technicolor dreamcoats ….. AND MY MOTHER.

Up to this point, my brother Ceon had already had several incidents with improper pecker control but none due to arousal.  My childhood is littered with his bladder control issues mostly revolving around his ability to sleepwalk.  There were many nights when I would peer down from my bunkbed and see him mistake a bookshelf or my G.I. Joe collection for a toilet.  Storm Shadow is not as cool when he smells of piss.

But enough about urine.  In a feeble attempt to introduce my brother and I to “high culture” we were dragged by our parents to ballets, plays, and anything involving Beethoven.  None of this worked out as my first concert was Motley Crue’s Dr. Feelgood tour and I found Knight Rider to be intellectually stimulating.

So, my brother and I were being dragged to yet another musical by our Mom.  Ceon was 8, I was 11, the musical was Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. My Mom was extremely excited about this particular waste of time and had obtained 4th row seats, center stage.  The seating order was Mom, Ceon, and myself.  About an hour into the Biblical rock opera, there is a scene, possibly in Eqypt, that involves a belly dancer putting on a seductive show for some random king.   As her hips shook, Ceon was quite taken by this lady and began commenting outloud about his excitement.  Here is exactly what happened while I sat there in both shock and awe.

Ceon:  “Mommy, mommy… she’s pretty.” 

Mom:  “Yes, Ceon, she is.

Ceon:  (Tugging on my Mom’s sleeve) “Mommy, she’s REALLY pretty.”

Mom:  “Yes, Ceon.  Now keep your voice down, don’t disturb others.  It’s rude.”

Loose Cannon:  “Ceon, shut up.”

Ceon: ” Mommy, mommy …..IT HURTS!  IT HURTS!

Mom:  “Ceon, are you OK?  What hurts?”

Ceon: “OH MOMMY, IT HURTS SO BAD!”

Mom:  “What hurts?”

Ceon: (Standing Up) “MOMMY, MOMMY……. MY PENIS IS HARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Are You F—ing Kidding Me??

And there you have it.  My confused brother sprung his first pocket rocket in front of Jesus and 2,000 of his followers and SHOUTED IT FROM THE TOP OF A MOUNTAIN.  My mom grabbed him by the hand and dragged him from the 4th row right out of the concert hall while I sank into my seat, laughing inside and pretending to disappear.  My brother returned several minutes later, a bit wiser, and seemed to be scanning the stage for additional bellydancers.

We did not see Jesus Christ Superstar or any other “cultural event” for the rest of the year.

It happens to the best of us, I know. You are sitting at your computer, blissfully opening email. Caught up in the suspense and excitement that comes from such a task. “Who is writing me today?” you may wonder. More importantly, “Do they have pharmaceuticals available for purchase from Mexico?” “Can I get weapons grade Viagra for just pennies mailed to my front door”? And most relevant of all, “Just how long until I can expect to receive my checks from the deposed Nigerian ruler that contacted me anonymously a month ago asking for my banking information so he could send me $10 million dollars?”

Hey, we’ve all been there. The question is: WHY? All day long I get spam sent to my email. Usually it’s limited to my personal email, sometimes it gets through my company email filters to arrive in my in box at work. Last week I received a very nicely written email from a gentleman art dealer in the UK. Seems he was unable to legally receive payments from US buyers for his wares. So he needed an agent in the US to cash his checks from US customers and forward the money on to him. In return for this service he would give me 10% of his earnings.

Hell of a deal. I deleted his email of course and forwarded it to Fraud Watch in the hopes they could nail this grifting fuck. However, it got me thinking. I’m an intelligent guy. Most of my friends and family are intelligent. Who exactly is falling for these scams? It’s so easy to say only foreigners in Arizona and retirees in Florida are gullible enough to send their banking information to a complete stranger. After all, you’re too smart to fall for an obvious phish, right?

OK, then explain to me why I daily get emails forwarded to me that are just as ludicrous as the typical spam mail? Let me break it down:

– At no point is Bill Gates going to send your family to Disney World because you forwarded an email to everyone you’ve ever met to help with their non-existent email tracking program.

– Congress is not trying to make Spanish the national language, nor are they trying to raise taxes to pay for illegal immigrants. Also, an 100% tax on retirement earnings would leave nothing
left for retirement. I’m not an accountant but I’m pretty sure that would defeat the purpose of SAVING in the first place.

– Barack Obama is not a Muslim or an Al Qaeda sleeper agent. Nor did he blow off meeting soldiers when he was in Afghanistan. Does that even make sense from a political standpoint? It’s not like they are forced to send messages with smoke signals in the Middle East, they do have the internet in the desert you know. If Barack Obama were snubbing soldiers to get to a photo op with the officers, you can be damn sure it would hit the news. In all likelihood, Fox News would declare a national holiday and bump their featured story for the day, Liberals: Worse than Al Qaeda or Only Just as Bad?, for breathless non-stop coverage.

– No matter how many times you forward that heartwarming email about the old man and the soup you are NEVER going to be emailed back with a OMFGWTFBBQXYZ!!! animated masterpiece as reward for your efforts.

– That kid dying of cancer that wants to get in the Guinness Book of World Records for most emails received by a child? He died a few years back. Also they found that missing girl in 1997. No need to forward that one either.

— Aspartame is not going to kill you. Um, wait a minute maybe it is. I’m a bit on the fence with this one. Granted, you will PROBABLY be fine. But you may want to limit your Diet Coke intake to less than a gallon a day just to be safe.

My point is if these things were true you would hear about them from something other than an anonymously written email. What I’m asking is very simple. Approach any email forward you receive with the same skepticism and incredulity you would have if the same information arrived from a stranger on the street. Imagine this scenario; you are standing outside a restaurant waiting for a cab and a man walks up to you. For no reason he says “The Mayan Calendar runs out in 2012 and that’s when the world is going to end, pass it on.”

Would you do it? Even more important, would you give these ravings more than a second’s thought?

I hope to hell you answered “No, Tyler! What do I look like a fucking moron?” If you did, maybe there is hope after all. I know there is a lot of information out there but luckily the internet giveth shit, and the internet taketh away shit. For clarification of any questionable forwards you may receive, and that should be all of them, visit www.snopes.com. The fine folks at Snopes have been debunking urban legends, and that is all these are, for years. They take and analyze all the insanity out there and there is A LOT of it.

So next time you are outraged that Congress is going to pass a national law forcing everyone to wear culottes on Tuesdays and sing the Belgium** national anthem before all baseball games, visit the fine folks at Snopes and delete the email. Even better, reply all with the Snopes link debunking the claim. THEN delete the email.

But you already know all this of course. It’s the REST of them we have to educate.

So get educating.

*Apologies to Stephen Colbert
**Apologies to Belgium females. Well, at least these two:

TylerDFC spends his days wishing he was anywhere other than where he is. When he is not, he can be found ruminating on pop culture at www.Criticult.com.

• Do you have no ambition in life?
• Are you a blood sucking leach of society?
• Have you made the business decisions of someone who thinks 2 + 2 = Jello?
• Have you taken financial risks that have not turned out right?
• Are you a complete scumbag with zero business ethics?

No problem! We’re here to help! Here’s our plan:

Issue # 1: First let’s talk about General Motors! We know that only until the last few years have you made any improvement to your dealership service and quality of vehicles. We understand that you let Nissan, Honda and Toyota make more stylish and dependable vehicles and completely pass you by in the marketplace.

That’s OK! We at the government have a color copier that makes money. We understand that you blame your retirement plans for your employees for your spiraling costs instead of the inferior product that you’ve been shilling and that the public has stopped purchasing. How much do you need? Would 120 billion be alright for the next few months? If so, we will call Staples right now and order some green ink! Can we send the cash UPS ground to save on the shipping cost? What am I talking about? What do we care about budgeting? This shit is like Monopoly money to us.  Would $14 billion be OK until August?

Also, if you are running an airline and a bank – don’t worry at all! We’ve got ya covered! You get a “do over!”

As far as the small business owner who risked everything and contributed towards the overall economy by coming up with a useful product or service….. Um…. you’re fucked.

Issue #2: Do you have 8 credit cards with a total balance of $50,000, bought a few investment houses that are now being foreclosed, and dipped into your primary residence with an equity line to purchase $300 jeans, a new pair of tits, spa treatments and never saved one fucking dime for a rainy day? Do you lack any rational thought? Have you completely lived beyond your means?

No problem!  We’ve got you covered!  If you haven’t paid your mortgage, we have $275 million subsdized from those that do pay their bills!  Besides, how could you have seen that a 700 square foot house with no backyard wouldn’t be worth $400,000 forever? We want you to spend as much money as possible so you never quit your job! It’s called economic slavery you brain dead bastards! In fact, we know you NEED to go the mall to feel good about yourselves so we are going to send another $800 check to you so you can buy that new iPhone! Crash Bandicoot is amazing on it and the new Britney Spears’ album is fabulous! Download them immediately…. if not sooner!

Issue #3: Do you complain about your job, feel sorry for yourself, expect a raise for just showing up on time, or just simply don’t work? Well, you low-expectation twunts do we have a deal for you! We plan on upping the welfare payouts so keep on fucking and produce some more offspring to increase the taxes on people that have ambition and make over $100,000 a year BY WORKING SMART AND CONTRIBUTING TO THE ECONOMY. We understand that you hate the rich and that they have no right to keep the money that have earned by taking risks by either running a successful business or contributing to the bottom line of their employer. They should be sharing it with you! We know how much you suffer because your TV is less than 60 inches! Watching Deal or no Deal on regular television is just not the same without seeing the detail on Howie Mandel’s soul patch!

I hope you all love socialism, bitches!  I can’t wait until next week when we get everyone a new car like Oprah! 

Sincerely,

Your Government

Slippers with headlights – (Walk in complete darkness because turning on a light is too difficult!)

While perusing the Skymall Idiot’s Almanac, things may pop in your head like “Why didn’t I think of that?”

I understand your pain. Let me give you an example.

Last week, Molly, my Pointer/Lab/Lucifer mix, went completely batshit while I was at work. Besides chewing the door frame, clawing on my new leather couch, eating everything in my kitchen trash can, and then puking the consumed trash all over my bedroom floor she also pulled off one more spectacular move:

She somehow tore a huge gaping hole in my middle of my new overpriced Pottery Barn comforter.

My first thought, besides if the humane society was still open, was how much the repair was going to cost. What I didn’t know is that I could’ve taken a picture of the comforter, sent it to the patent office, and sold it on TV or in Skymall magazine.

Meet the new blanket, just like the old blanket — except this one comes with a HOLE. They are called Slankets and Snuggies and they are in fierce competition to dominate the global “Blanket With Holes” market. And according to the ads, entire families have been fiending to sit around the house, or attend a sporting event wearing blankets in a rainbow of colors with their fucking heads sticking out and clutching a Pabst.

Here’s the sales pitch for Snuggies: “Blankets are OK but they can slip and slide, plus your hands are trapped inside!”

This solves the claustrophobic and restricted arm movement issues I have had for decades regarding quilts….. hell, even afghans! I should’ve had my had my dog attack my blanket years ago! Watch the following ads that confirm we are ruled by a confederacy of dunces and, according to my YouTube search, that a brunette on some show called The Dish feels the same way:

Skymall Slanket:

As seen on TV Snuggie:

Have you ever met a real life Michael Scott from the Office?  Well I have.  He’s a manager in my region, speaks only in cliche, and chest bumped  me yesterday.  Here’s his paraphrased conversation.

I told Teddy that we needed to talk about the 800 pound gorilla in the room. He told me he was tired because he was burning the midnight oil. I told him to not go over my head, don’t burn the candle at both ends, and be a good soldier because we all know it’s a dog eat dog world out there!

Listen, he who lives by the sword dies by the sword. His project wasn’t done because he went out late last night with our new intern, Maggie.

Are you Fucking kidding me?

I told him not to shit in his own backyard, put his nose to the grindstone, and knock this project out the park.

It was a sad state of affairs. I told Teddy we were not on the same page, needed some synergy and he needed to see the big picture. Soon we were back in line, firing on all cylinders, going gangbusters, and laughing all the way to the bank.

Hey, there’s no “I” in team.

I’m glad I got that off my chest.

Responsibilities that include answering the emails, letters and other assorted requests of my ever-growing fanbase of Boondogglites.

To stay ahead of the curve and to determine what next burden my celebrity status will bring me, I’ve been doing some serious research on what crazed fans expect from celebrities like me.

What I found will amaze and perhaps, sadden you:

Crazed celebrity stalkers want autographs.

No, these nutbags want autographs.

I just don’t understand this desire to have an autograph from your favorite celebrity. I’ve never felt compelled to approach a complete stranger and ask them to sign their name on a dirty napkin before.

What would one do with such a prize? Frame it and mount it on the wall for all your friends to see? Build a small shrine in your basement and go pray for wisdom from the autograph each day? Perhaps have it tattooed onto your chest for all eternity?

For my money, there would only be three autographs I would ever even consider asking for:

1. Matt Damon – Simply so after he scrawls his name with a crayon on an 8 X 10” glossy I can say “Sorry, I thought you were Ben Affleck” and walk away.

2. A Chimpanzee – Who wouldn’t want the first signature of a chimpanzee that learned how to write?

3. Satan – Self-explanatory.

So as I continued my research, I learned that this could also be a moneymaking venture as some “celebrities” now make a living 

Are you F—ing kidding me?

I’m at least as important as the lady that played a Vulcan on “Star Trek – The Next Generation”, a chick that jumped out of a cake in Under Siege 2” and Darian Caine from the not quite Oscar nominated Curse of the Wolf.

ME: “Yes, this is Captain Boondoggle, I’d like to speak to you about your convention on October 25th.”

Scott: “In what regards?”

ME: “I’d like to sell my autograph and perhaps some of my hair and fingernail clippings at the show.”

Scott: “We don’t allow for anything to be sold other than autographs and signed memorabilia at our shows and you have to be a celebrity.”

ME: “Did I stutter?”

Scott: “What?”

ME: “I said, did I stutter?”

Scott: “No.”

Scott: “OK, then, it is a $350 pre-registration fee, but you will need to show proof of your membership in the Screen Actor’s Guild.”

ME: “No problem, is it within my rights if I wear my pink leotard and famous penguin hat?”

Scott: “As long as there is no nudity, you can wear whatever you want.”

ME: “Great, I’ll see you on the 25th.”

There you have it, I will be in the great state of New Jersey on the 25th of this month signing autographs for $3.50, pretending that I am a robot and making a general mockery of the whole shebang.

The following is a classic post from Sonnygirl, an RUFKM Army member whose entire contribution to this site is…. this post.  Apparently she is only inspired to write when she is starving from drinking lemon juice and having extreme problems with her digestive system.  Sonnygirl, we enjoyed this post so please do something else ridiculous to write about like getting yourself kidnapped.

I have only two bands that I refuse to put into “shuffle” mode on my iPod: AC/DC and KISS. Both are equally stupid, equally spectacular, and put me in a blissful coma where every song title includes variations on the words rock and love, the guitars are accentuated by a greasepainted blood spitting demon or a duckwalking shorts wearing midget, synchronized pyro errupts that singes your short and curlies, and several cannons randomly fire giving a 21 gun salute. I cannot listen to either of these bands in an “iPod Blend” as when the guitar intro of Dirty Deeds Done Detroit Rock Cheap begins, all I want to do is disconnect my brain and let their verse/chorus/verse/chorus/solo/repeat chorus take over my corrupted soul.

I am a very, very simple man.

THE RIFF.

Quick history lesson: Since 1973, Angus Young has been wearing the same sweat-soaked schoolboy outfit (now in Hugh Hefner red velvet), churning out Chuck Berry inspired licks and spazzing his 5 foot, 13o pound frame all over the fucking stage in search of a case of Ritalin. Although they were very popular in their homeland of Australia, none of their efforts in the 70′s time even broke the U.S. top 100 until the end of 1979.

It was that year that AC/DC’s label paired them with future superproducer Mutt Lange (Def Leppard, Shania Twain boinker/divorcee) to perfect their formula and make them more accessible. They put out Highway to Hell that year, it hit #17 on the charts, and then Bon Scott decided to drink his weight in Southern Comfort, turn green, and realize that Hell wasn’t a bad place to be. Mutt and AC/DC then lowered Bon into the ground and before the first shovel of dirt covered his grave, found an alcoholic Australian with the world’s most generic name (Brian Johnson) who looked like an evil Leprechaun with an affinity for black wifebeater T-shirts and wool caps, and a daily routine of eating 3 packs of cigarettes for breakfast.

In 1980, with their new lead grunter in tow, they ecstatically sprinted back to the studio, snorted an 8-ball, cranked out the billion selling Back in Black, and created the music required by law to be played at all televised football games before every 3rd down. It should also be noted AC/DC’s BIB is, at 22 million copies sold, the 5th highest selling album in the U.S. EVER and that since 1980 the majority of AC/DC’s output has been as appetizing as a bacon and shit sandwich. Let me list the albums over the last 28 years and see if they conjure up any

memories.

For Those About To Rock

Flick of the Switch

Fly on The Wall

Who Made Who

Blow Up Your Video

Razor’s Edge

Live

Ball Breaker

Stiff Upper Lip

Side Note: In one of the most bizarre compilations ever, the Who Made Who album was actually the soundtrack to the Stephen King cinematic failure called Maximum Overdrive starring Mighty Duck boy Emilio Estevez. This atrocity was directed by King when he was at the pinnacle of his drug addiction and the plot revolved around machines seeking revenge like Coke machines that would shoot Sprite cans towards your head until you died. The author of It, Carrie and The Shining felt that his masterpiece could only be improved with the musical majesty of AC/DC.

Looking at the list, you probably only remember the albums in bold as they are the only ones that had more than one or two songs that wouldn’t make you throw your LP/tape/CD directly out the window.

The best output from AC/DC or their moronic twin KISS has always been when they are working with a solid producer. When you are creating mind-numbing songs that focus on power, underage sex, the size of your balls (BIG) , and either getting struck by – or in KISS’ case – BEING a God of Thunder, you need someone to say “That is simply too fucking stupid and I forbid you to record a song called Hard as a Rock and put it on an album called Ballbreaker.” Um, too late.

With the exception of For those about to Rock and the Razor’s Edge, AC/DC had no such umpire.

Which leads us to their soon to be released album Black Ice. It is produced by Brendan O’Brien (Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots, Rage against the Machine, and. uh….. Jackyl) and by having “black” in the album name suggests that this could be another BIB. I have decent hopes for this album for the simple fact that 4 out of the 15 tracks have “Rock” in their title and they have a solid song called War Machine, a title that KISS already used back in 1982. Yes, they are now borrowing song titles. The album is also being sold only as a Wal-Mart exclusive in a business deal where Wally World has already pre-purchased 3 million copies of Black Ice to be on their shelves by next Tuesday.

Yes, in our current music industry of singles vs. album downloads (AC/DC is not available on iTunes) a band that’s been around for over 30 years is going triple platinum on the day the album is released.

Maybe they’re not so stupid.

Also, all their classic (read superior) Bon Scott led albums of the 70′s (read obscure) have been remastered and released and available for only $7.00 at Walmart. Here are the albums that you must purchase immediately…if not sooner in order of pure rock power that will cleanse you of the polished crap of today. All of these are complete slabs of non-protooled genius but Powerage is by far their most underrated album and kicks the living shit out of anything released since 1978. If you only have $7.00 in your bank account, buy that one.

Powerage: Down Payment Blues, Rock and Roll Damnation, Riff Raff

Highway to Hell: Night Prowler, If You want Blood, Girls got rhythm

Let There Be Rock: Go Down, Hell ain’t a bad place to be, Whole Lotta Rosie

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap: Squealer, Love at first feel, Big Balls

High Voltage: Live Wire, Long way to the top, The Jack