Archive for the ‘ Apocalypse ’ Category

Three Things That Get My Goat (Thursday Edition)

– People who base their entire personality solely on something that pretty much everyone finds agreeable. For example, The Beetles, Nightmare Before Xmas, Edward Scissorhands. Yes, these things have all been really memorable. And I’m sorry that if there is a God that he skipped you when he was handing out personalities and that you had to do work to make it up. But let it go. Just let it go.


-Adults that wear over-sized T-Shirts featuring Disney or Looney Toones characters. You’re not allowed to dress like a baby anymore. You can buy cigarettes, alcohol, lotto tickets, and vote.


The Ebola List

I was reading an issue of The Justice League #213 (I made that up) and realized that I would never make the important social and political standing that I want without developing:

(a) a master plan

(b) develop an arch nemesis

(c) create a social network of other devious super villains (in the talks with the people at Facebook to develop a web based social community to facilitate this in an easier manner than reserving the conference room at the Marriott every third Tuesday of the month & having to deal with membership fees and paying the caterer.)

(d) Pick a devious name and an equally devious costume. At the moment I’m leaning towards a lab coat and Professor Apocalypse. But this is all subject to change.

(e) Henchmen. I’m on the fence about whether to go with genetic mutants or a squad of super military robots that feed on dead bodies. I’m sort of leaning towards the robots so that I won’t have to deal with any union issues. The only problem is that finding said robots on ebay is a lot harder than I imagined.

(f) Secret hideout. I’ve been shopping around taking a gander at a couple properties. I think the underground former Soviet Union missile silo has a lot of potential, but I worry about the interior decorating potential. I found this guy in New Zealand that  can get me a pretty sweet deal on a biodome under the sea. That could be really cool too. But then I’d have to invest in a fleet of submarines or something. I really always found helicopters much less claustrophobic. So we’ll sea (pun)

As for my master plan, I’ve also discovered that finding the Ebola virus on eBay is a lot harder than I thought as well.

But, Rome wasn’t built in a day!

I’ve also decided how I’m going to make my debut into society. The target? Jason Mraz. By disrupting the youth culture, I can make a much greater impact on society than anything else. I’ll have the MTV, VH1, AND E! networks bowing down to me.

And that is how I plan on becoming a super villain.

The Great Debate: Zombie Apocalypse or Post Apocalyptic Road Pirates?

The argument for the zombie apocalypse:

1. Heroin like addiction to hunting brains

2. Destroyed by fire and head wounds

3. Every B movie ever

4. Fans of shoddily made and tattered clothing. Invest in KMart

5. Highly competitive position as being the last living human being alive. Be your own boss

The argument for post apocalyptic road pirates:

1. Heroin like addiction to hunting for gasoline

2. Very mortal

3. Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road,” and Mad Max

4. Fans of S&M clothing, invest in leather and vinyl

5. High potential for a fulfilling career as a road warrior. Be your own boss

The winner? Easy. An apocalypse of zombie road pirates


The Ed Hardy Report

A recent survey conducted  by The Economist has shown startling results: Ed Hardy has just outranked North Korea, The War on drugs, and Hayden Pannettiere as being the greatest threats to the United States of America.

Despite being synonymous with “douchebag” (see Oxford English Dictionary, 2009 edition), the popularity of Ed Hardy seems to be thriving. In fact, scientists in the U.K. have developed a “D-Bag Scale,” similar to the “Richter Scale.” Only instead of measuring earthquakes, it measures the level of douchiness of a person or thing. Ed Hardy has captured the top ranking of this D-Bag scale, puzzling scientists as to why people would knowingly submit themselves to being labeled douchebags.

Sociology professor Jonathan T. Quincy of The University of Southern California Santa Barbara is concerned that douchebags from all over the globe, from college-aged coke heads to dickheads in the midst of a midlife crisis (see Jon & Jate + 8), are embracing Ed Hardy as something of a uniform for what may be something of an exercise in solidarity. This worries him as, “the fact that this many douchebags are getting together and making it obvious that they don’t mind being as such means that the level of potential douchiness that we are used to is nothing compared to  the new levels that their newfound douchiness will ultimately lead to. God have mercy on us all.”

Are we doomed to drown in a sea of douchebag? Though this is a fear for many, new social support groups are forming all over the country to combat and learn to deal with the Ed Hardy phenomenon.

For a list of local support groups near you, feel free to visit our website.

The Three People I Want With Me During The Apocalypse & Why

It’s never too late to start planning for the future. That’s why I started my 401K as soon as I hit the big two-one. This same concern with my future well-being is why I have taken the time to sit down and weigh the pros and cons of the three people that I want to have with me during the Apocalypse to promote maximum survival.

I have developed spreadsheets, graphs, Venn diagrams, and engineered a computer program to scientifically compare the contestants to predict results with a minimal margin of error.

So far, it seems that the best three people to have with me during the Apocalypse are the following:

1. Burt Reynolds. Because the way he maneuvered and thought on his feet during Smokey & the Bandit (1-3) was more than enough to convince me that he would be the perfect sidekick during this tumultuous time.

2.Keith Richards. Apparently he’s been dead since the early 1970’s but has been well preserved due to all the nonsense in his blood stream. I’m under the impression that he’s probably really buddy-buddy with the four horsemen which could work in our favor.

3. Paris Hilton. Probably the only time that I would ever want her anywhere near me. I’m under the impression that if we get backed up into a corner, that throwing her under the proverbial bus will buy us enough time to escape since the four horsemen will have their hands tied taking care of business.

And there you have it.

What I’m Going to Do When I’m a Billionaire

When I’m a billionaire, I plan on investing as much money as possible into making my dream come true.

And what is that dream?

To be able to produce a clone of either Vincent Price or Rod Sterling for the sole purpose of having the greatest narrator ever for my biopic (which I will be writing and directing).

Also, I may use this clone (whether it will be Vincent or Rod is to be determined at the time of the experiment) to record the voice of the robot that I’ll be engineering to be my personal assistant/unholy army of the night.

The Apocalypse Button

“Mr. and Mrs. Robertson, I think you’re really going to like this next property. It’s a 1920 square foot Dutch Colonial originally built in 1849, and recently restored in the early 1980s. The distinct floor plan is an interior decorators dream, eh Mrs. Robertson? It has been highly praised for incorporating the outdoor aesthetics of the property. The window structures will absorb natural light and cut down on your electricity bills by around 20% of what I bet you’re used to! Now obviously the granite countertops, and the electric range, and 2 door refrigerator aren’t part of the original house, but I think they add quite a bit of charm, eh?”

Mrs. Robertson clapped her hands together in joy, “Oh, honey, I LOVE it!”

“I’ll admit, Mr. Reinier, I’m impressed!”

“Do you have any children, Tina? Do you mind if I call you Tina?” Mr. Reiner confidently shoved a hand into his blazer pocket.

“Oh, not at all. Yes, we have a daughter, who is 7. She is with her grandmother at the moment.”

“Fantastic! Let me show you the backyard!”

“Mr. Reinier-“

“Call me Tim if I can call you John.”

“Tim, this place seems too good to be true. Now between you and me, what’s the catch…?” John leaned in close.

“Not much of a catch John. Just a great deal on a great house. C’mon, don’t you just SEE yourself coming home to a place like this? Summer barbeques, gigantic Christmas trees in the vaulted foyer, the convenience of a home office space for when you get the Smithson account, and a basement to play some pool and have a couple of beers with the boys? Talk about a dream come true for a very reasonable price!” Tim slapped his hand on John’s back.

“Hahaha… You’re a clever fellow, Tim, I like you. Now, seriously, between you and me” he leaned in, “… Now, we’re both salesmen… I know there’s got to be a little somethin’, hm? Now, c’mon, what is it? Noisy neighbors? Airplanes flying overhead at all hours of the night? Inconvenient street washing schedule? ….Built on an Indian burial ground….? Ha, c’mon now!”

“Ok, Mr. Robertson. I can tell that you are a man of the world. Ok, there is one little included amenity that you typically don’t see in other properties.” Tim steepled his hands.

“Here we go! And that is…?”

“The apocalypse button.”

“…The apocalypse button.” John cocked his head to the side.

“Yes sir.”

“…What is an apocalypse button?”

“The button that triggers the apocalypse.”

“You’re a funny man, Tim.” John chuckled.

“I’m completely serious. The original owner had it installed in 1851 after he bought it in an auction in Prague.”

“That’s crazy! Why would the apocalypse, if it were triggered by a button, be from Prague?”

“Well it’s not originally from Prague. That’s just where it was auctioned. It had at one point been in Rome, but was stolen by thieves in 1802 or 1803. I’m not sure of the date, but I have a notarized document from the auction that you can take a look at. It comes with the deed to the house.”

“You’re shitting on me. You’re shitting on me! You have shat on me. You have bent me over backwards and popped a good old fashioned Cleveland Steamer on me. This is insane.”

“It’s not, I’ll show you. Now…do we want to distract the missus or are we okay with letting her know that the house plays a part in the end of times?”

“…You have to be fucking with me.”

“Suit yourself.”

They stared at each other.

“…Tina?” John yelled down the hall, “Have you seen the backyard? Come take a look at these oak trees! They have to be 100 years old! Okay Tim. I’m game. Show me this apocalypse button.”

“Ok, we’ll be quick about it. It’s located in the upstairs bedroom at the right at the top of the stairs.”

“Let’s see it.”

They climbed the elegantly crafted, lacquered oak staircase to the second floor bedroom on the right. The room was empty now. As ordinary as any other in an empty house. Taupe plush carpet, cream colored walls, oak closet door, and a reasonably sized overhead light fixture. But standing out noticeably  in the middle of the wall was an old brass plaque with a baroque style border. In the middle, was a black button. Like an oversized decorative doorbell.

“There it is.”

“It just looks like a light switch to me.”

“Well I’m no mathematician, John, but if you look right over here I think you can clearly see that this is the light switch. And if that’s the light switch, well then by golly, this can’t be, now can it?”

“So it’s a button. Big woop.”

“Well it’s not just any button-”

“-It’s the apocalypse button. I get that. I just don’t get why.”

“Listen John. I know this seems really crazy. Believe me. I’ve been successful in this business for quite some time. I believe your buddy Terrence referred you to me? And wouldn’t you say that he is more than satisfied with his home buying decision? This is the apocalypse button. It’s the only one you’ll find anywhere. One of a kind. A piece of history right in your own home. Now, most families with children typically don’t like the idea of living in a house with an apocalypse button, but I’ll give you this: Are we standing here right now?”

“Yes sir.”

“Because the apocalypse hasn’t come yet. Because no one has pushed that button. That button right there on that wall.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“So am I. This house has been on my hands for about five years now, ever since Mrs. Vander sold it off to retire in Florida. And who’s to blame her? How ‘bout that sun, eh?”

“I do love Miami.”

“Simple as this. Put a picture over it. Or a tapestry. You don’t even need to look at it. Make it like it’s not there. Unless you want your guests to say, ‘Hey John, what’s that button on that wall there all about?’ And you’ll say, ‘Why that’s the apocalypse button.’”

“None of the guys at the office can say anything about having an apocalypse button.”

“Quite the icebreaker! And who doesn’t like to keep up with the Joneses? You can live a wonderful life here, John. A wonderful life. A wonderful life as one of the few people who can claim the fame of being involved with the end of the world. There it is. On that wall.”

“Ha. I guess it is a bit of a novelty. Certainly a bit of an ice breaker at holiday parties!”

“You read my mind, John. Now, trash does the rounds Thursday mornings. Fridays if Monday is a holiday. Mail typically arrives in the late afternoon every day but Sunday. We have been having gardeners come every other Wednesday, but we can cancel that service if you’re a man whose lawn is his hobby. Oh, and the keepers of the apocalypse stop by first Tuesday of the month to check up that everything is going to plan.”

“I’m sorry, the who?”

“The keepers of the apocalypse. They come first Tuesday of the month to check up on things.”

“You have to be pulling me leg!”

“Scouts honor! It’s like when the folks from the electric company come around to take a look at the electric meter on the side of the house. They won’t bother you. They’re just doing their job. Now, if you can’t be at home to let them in, they do reserve the right to use their master key. Provided that they give you 48 hour notice minimum.”

“Sir, I find this all very silly. Are you telling me that some jack in a blue collar with his name embroidered on it is going to come into my house every first Tuesday of the month to look at THAT button on my wall?”

“Well, their uniform is really more of a black robe.”

“Do they have a company truck?”

“No…they really just… sort of appear.”

“In a cloud of smoke?”

“Fire and brimstone, actually.”

“Uh huh. And if I’m dissatisfied with their customer service is there a phone number with which I can reach their supervisor?”

“Don’t be silly, John. There are no phones in hell.”

“…. Ha! You’ve got me. You’ve really got me. I tell you what, let’s go downstairs and see what the wife thinks about this house.”

“I knew you were the kind of man to keep an open mind about a little thing like the apocalypse button!” Tim forced a laugh. But inside all he could think was, ‘god have mercy on us all.’