You’re probably on your way to somewhere cool you’re going to spend your Memorial Day weekend right now. If that’s true, you’re almost certainly not reading this, but if it is true, and you’re driving, put me down. Not in the verbally-abusive way, I mean stop reading. I admire your eagerness to read, but let’s face it, I’ve got a pretty good buzz going at this point. I’m operating at about 70%. If you were busy checking out a huge Lego X-Wing in Times Square this week, odds are you missed it.
All good atheists go to Heaven
This week, Pope Francis said during a Mass that anyone, including atheists, can get to Heaven be doing good works during their time on Earth. The pope suggested that everyone, not just Catholics, can lead good lives. This sparked a significant debate about whether non-believers should be let in St. Peter’s pearly gates. You know who’s not part of the debate? Atheists.
Back to Paris
The wait is over. After a break from the studio for seven years, Paris Hilton announced she is working a new house music album to be released this summer. If that news makes you question if God exists, don’t worry, Pope Francis says you can still get to Heaven.
BSA puts the ‘out’ in ‘scouts’
Boy Scouts of America’s national council voted to allow gay scouts to scout, but gay scout leaders can’t lead scouts because of cooties. The decision was criticized by the more conservative members of the organization, which see the decision as a violation of BSA’s moral code. Conservative congregations have threatened to pull funding for their local Boy Scout troops, especially the churches whose pastors have secret gay boyfriends.
Good news, everyone! Emotionally blackmailing celebrities still works!
Jake Davidson, who became Internet famous by asking Kate Upton to his high school prom, indeed went with a Sports Illustrated swimsuit/Carl’s Jr. sandwich-eating model. It just wasn’t Kate Upton because she had a scheduling conflict. She sent a replacement, though: Nina Agdal.
(Is it weird to anyone else that there are at least two SI swimsuit models eating Hardee’s food on television?)
Davidson remarked that the date went well, in that they “talked about her modeling, traveling, and where she’s lived.” He also believes that they have “a bunch of stuff in common,” like how neither of them has connected emotionally with any of the girls at his school.
So, there you go: you don’t have to have an incurable fatal disease (noncontagious, of course) to make celebrities feel guilty about turning your highly-publicized promposal down. And celebrities can send a reasonable facsimile in their place because they are not a person who you actually know.
Perhaps their attempt to mow the lawn of O’Hare Airport was nothing but a ploy. Perhaps the goats of Illinois are simply a different breed than the ones found in New Jersey. No matter what, a goat ran rampant in Jersey City and is responsible for four (yes, FOUR) accidents and jammed up traffic. (Warning: Link has an ad with autoplay.)
May it burn in goat Hell, which is a land with no cans whatsoever.
When you kick back with a drink or ten this Memorial Day weekend, make sure you get the booze you ordered, especially if that drink came from a bar in New Jersey.
State alcohol enforcement officials raided 13 establishments, including TGI Fridays, in response to complaints and tips that the places were swapping out the top-shelf liquor for something less so. To The Guys, this is a crime against humanity, and we’re glad to see that while there are all sort of things New Jersey will tolerate — like the mafia, gambling, mosquitoes, guidos and the New York Jets — cheating us out of our high-class hootch isn’t one of them.
Say it isn’t so. Is Sacha Baron Cohen, a.k.a. Ali G, Borat and Bruno, actually starring in a movie with a semi-coherent plot? Seems like it. There’s not a mock-doc, improvised, caught-on-the-fly, “gotcha!” moment in all of The Dictator. The film zigs and zags through its scant 84 minutes as if running wild to save its crazy ass. Oddly enough, this is a good thing. Even with a blueprint to follow, the Cambridge-educated Baron Cohen is always best when he jumps the fences of comedy. That’s why The Dictator leaves you laughing helplessly. It starts at outrageous and rockets on from there. Screw the occasional sputter. Continue reading →
Veterinarians in Clearwater, Florida performed an emergency hairballectomy on Ty, a 400-pound tiger from Wildlife Rescue and Rehabilitation Inc. They successfully removed an unhackable 4-pound hairball the size of a basketball.
This is now officially the largest recorded orange pussy hairball, unseating the former champion: the combined stomach contents of the cast from the adult film Fire Crotches! Redheads Heat It Up.
We understand that, as sorta-doctors (not people-doctors), veterinarians have taken an oath to treat our foes in the War on Animals. But, could they at least make sure that’s all tiger hair in Ty’s furball? When they sliced him open, how many Opie impersonators slid out of him like on the dock in Jaws?
Who here’s tired of all of the Ghost-[whatever] shows that basic cable is littered with? Ghost-Houses, Ghost-Adventures, Ghost-Adventurers, Ghost-Towns, Ghost-Dad — they’re all useless and unneeded. And the actual “ghost-hunters?” Nothing more than night-vision filter versions of John Edward.
Apparently, Tasmania already got the news and had their “ghost-hunters” take another route. Why look for spectral ooze when you might stumble upon ooze of a different, more adulterous sort?
We spend more on pets because the animals we keep have become needy little fur balls intent on driving us bankrupt, so that their wild kin can wipe us out. It also means that we’re doing a good job of consuming the alcohol that we make, keeping supply and demand in check. So sit back, have a drink, and ignore your pets.
A recent campaign by Dove, a soap company, told us that women have low self-esteem and are all much more beautiful than they think. (Also: just because you’re pretty doesn’t mean you don’t stink, so buy some body wash.)
In a video that was shared by everyone with more estrogen than R. Lee Ermey, Dove cast an actor to play a sketch artist (the police kind, not your friend who’s really into improv) who draws Holywood-ugly — normal-looking — women based first on descriptions of themselves, and then based on how another actor was scripted to see them.
In the end, it turned out that, when women described themselves, the sketch turned out awful. (Way to go, something else that’s your fault, uggo.) When a complete stranger was very polite in case the man was married to the woman he’s asking about, the sketch turned out a-iight. Certainly not as great as when you mail your photo into that SkyMall artist who turns it into a sketch.
And, of course, women decided they were wrong about how they looked and opted for the prettier picture that could have been influenced by just about anything in the room at the time of the interview. (“She, uh … she looked like a chair.”)
In the wake of not a single meaningful legislative change being made in the wake of several gun massacres in 2012, it looks like the government just can’t do anything to prevent gun violence.
Fortunately, that’s where ordinary citizens step in. Virginia gun shops and their suppliers have been unable to keep ammunition on the shelves for the past five months. Since the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting, customers have bought up every bullet, especially those for handguns and light rifles like the 9 mm, .38 and .22 caliber. Even shipments that once arrived in cases now come by the box because manufacturers can’t keep up with demand.
So, there you go: there’s nothing left for the criminals to buy, and what is left is more expensive than a couple of armed robberies will cover. It turns out that the only thing that can stop a bad guy with a gun … is a scared guy with all the bad guy’s ammo.