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We’ve all had it happen to us. Being a high school student and parking my car in the regular student parking lot everyday, I get it quite a bit. It’s that damn crap that people put on your windshield in order to communicate some message to you. They tuck it inbetween your wiper and the actual windshield just to make it look like they actually put some genuine effort to get through to you. Frankly, the thought of some stranger (apart from a gas station attendent, auto mechanic, or some other “professional” in the field) lifting up my wiper and sticking some foreign object in there somewhat disgusts me.

What is really nice is when they leave it so that it is facing into you car, as opposed to up towards the sky. They do this so that when you forget it is there and happen to turn on your wipers once you’re going 63 miles an hour down the rural highway back to your house you can read the message as it is wiped back and forth across your freaking windshield! Of course, you could just reach out your window as you’re driving and try to pick off the paper at just the right time. This would require a good amount of skill and accuracy as well as bravery because you could easily fall out of the side of your car or careen off the side of the road and hit 3 old ladies and a cat taking a dump (because that is the only time that you could ever actually hit a cat…I mean, normally they are lively and agile enough that they would get away in time, but nobody is agile when they’re taking a shit). Or, if you want to play it safe, you can just pull over and deal with the damn thing. Of course, in doing that, you’re letting the perpetrator win. You’re wasting you’re valuable time in which you would regularly be driving home to pull over and deal with this situation.

But once you are ready to deal with it, what exactly do you do with it? Some of the damn flyers actually say something like “Please don’t litter” or “Respect our enviroment” or some pompous shit like that. Go hump a tree, you hypocritical hippies! You’re the ones who put the damn thing on my car! It is your trash, not mine. If I go out to the local Greasy-Shit Burger Stand and then dump all the trash from my meal onto the hood of your car, would you happily throw it out for me? What if I did it several times a week? But you better make sure you recycle the plastic bottle from my soda or else you could kill a whole colony of Turtle-Eating Shroom Weasels! Seriously, putting trash on my car does not make it my trash! That little “Please don’t litter” comment just adds insult to injury. You’re telling me not to litter when all you’re doing is essentially littering on my car! At least when I litter, I litter on public property as opposed to private possessions such as a random person’s car.

Finally, you should know full well that I’m not going to read your damn flyer. If you’re lucky, I might actually skim it and pick up the 3 biggest or most interesting words, but that’s only if you’re lucky so don’t get your hopes up. Also, when I do skim it, it usually just pisses me off more. If your message is so pitiful that the only way I am going to hear about it is from you putting that shit on my car, I’m not going to respond. I have never in my life seen a flyer on my car and said something like “Oh, golly gee! I’ve never heard of this thing before, but I can’t wait to respond to this message in full optimism! I’m so glad that they put this beautiful informational pamphlet on my vehicle or else I never would have heard about this wonderful opportunity!” and I doubt I will ever say anything remotely like that. Over 99% of the time, I’ll just crumple the damn paper up, look around the parking lot in disgust and rage, violently throw the paper in the most conspicuous place possible, and then speed off in my car in a horribly obnoxious way. I suggest you try my method, you end up actually feeling better after the whole ordeal.

You’ve seen it, and you’ve even noticed it too. And, if you have some obsessive compulsive tendencies (like myself), then it’s probably bugged you too. That damn cord that weathermen, or weatherwomen, or weatherpeople use. They have their precious little button so that just in case that robot dressed in Bob Barker’s carcass happens to come on the set, they can answer any question it asks and win a joyous cash prize.

What bothers me is the fact that they’ve been using the exact same buttons since about 1983. Since then, the weather-reporting world has been changed by enhanced GPS capabilities, advanced computer programs that can predict weather patterns far in the future, and computer graphics that can animate every single cute little sunshine graphic as well as display the pressure distributions across the world. But we’re still using the same damn button! We have technology that allows us to build tiny little robots that can do the cancan across the nail on your pinky finger, but every person reporting weather is still tethered to the magical weather machine by their little safety rope.

Seriously, they could choose infared, wireless 802.11 (a, b, or g), bluetooth, or any number of ways to get a signal from point at to point b without having to use a freaking cord. Price can’t be an issue, those things are cheaper than snot these days. And I’m not just talking about your piece of crap local news station, this shit happens on CNN too! They’ve made millions from spreading their newsworthy feces all over the world but they can’t afford a wireless button pressing mechanism?

Normally I wouldn’t care about this stuff at all, it’s just that I don’t want to see a rippling effect in that cord from Kansas City to Los Angelos when Mr. (or Mrs. (or Ms.)) WeatherDude (or Dudette) points out the showers in Chicago! Unless, of course, they are reporting the odd weather phenomenon known as the “Oh-shit-there-is-a-400-mile-long-50-foot-wide-black-cord-making-wave
-like-movements-across-the-majority-of-the-country” Tropical Depression.

No, seriously, squirrels on crack.

…and no, surprisingly enough, I am not talking about their genetalia (I’ll leave that topic for a later entry). This entry, however is about the Gameboy Micro. Many, including myself, expected this to be quite a flop. Selling 200,000 units in Japan at launch, it actually surpassed the launch sales of the Gameboy Advance SP. Though there aren’t any sales figures for the U.S. just yet, those old Japanese men still made their point: people like smaller units.

P.S. - Why did I post this, you ask? This isn’t a gaming news site or any kind of news site so there wasn’t much point in posting it. I basically did it purely for the jokes about Japanese men and their legendary small genetalia.

Well, Apple sure missed the bus on this one. Some clever nerds managed to cram 200 gigabytes of storage into the tiny iPod Nano. Well, they didn’t really cram it in, persay. You’ll see because the best part is that they tell you how to do it!

Ah, she’s a beauty, isn’t she?

First of all, what follows isn’t really a result of any specific situation or experience. It is more just from my general distrust and overall hate towards the main sources of mass media. Secondly, well, I don’t have a “secondly” so I’ll get on with my point.
When you watch the local news at 5:30pm or whenever you watch it in your own crazy world, you see your ugly news anchors that will never hit it in the big time, the weather girl whose tits are several times as big as her brain (and quite a bit more useful as far as the TV station is concerned), and the sports guy is basically just like your friend Frank down the street who is constantly watching some group of sweaty guys run around with a ball for some reason (except the sports guy is wearing a suit and knows how to shave well). Then, several times a week, you will get some story about a bum that is crippled from polio, helps old ladies cross the street, and lets stray cats and dogs nibble on his toes for nourishment. This bum has always been living in your town way longer than you or anybody that you are related to or even know, yet he’s never had a house. He’s also done way more nice things for people than humanly possible. Obviously, you immediately grow a deep and passionate hate for him and you vow to demolish the cardboard box that he calls home…as soon as you finish your dinner.
Then after half an hour of local crap (that some call news), you welcome the lovely national crap (that some call news). You have the one anchor with a simply obscene amount of hair that is perfectly done, the second anchor that is obviously bald but appears to be wearing a toupee made of the first anchor’s extra hair, the meteorologist that lets the computers do all the thinking for him, and the sports guy who can’t say anything without yelling loudly and spitting. As with local news, you get a certain kind of story a few times a week. However, it differs somewhat from what your local TV station tells you. This one talks about a certain bum that lives in a town that looks totally like yours but isn’t actually yours, he sells cocaine to the neighborhood kids, he then rapes the kids and steals their money and cocaine, and finally he breaks into people’s houses only to flip up toilet seats so that wives get mad at their husbands for leaving the seat up. Oddly enough, he looks very familiar to the bum that you heard about only a short half hour earlier.
What the hell is it that you want us to do, media?! Are we supposed to love these bums, give them awards, and welcome them into our houses? Or should we shoot them on sight and then run over and piss on their corpses? My advice: give the bums the best of both philosophies. Shoot them in the leg, give them an award for taking the shot like a man, invite them into your house, and then promptly piss on them. Covers all the bases.