Jack the Ripper

I watched this movie yesterday, about some students who were writing a college project on Jack the Ripper, and a copycat serial killer started killing them one by one. It was the biggest load of crap I've seen in a long time, so I thought I would share it with you. Mind you, I don't know the title of the movie or any of the actors in it (except perhaps their professor, but I don't even know his name), and I don't particularly care to find out. The previous sentence serves no purpose at all, I just didn't want to start a new paragraph after only two lines of text.
This movie featured some great acting, such as the British exchange student, whose accent was 10% British and 80% American (the rest 10% was when he didn't speak). Seriously, that guy was such a joke, he pronounced half the words with a British accent and half with an American accent. I can do better than that, and I'm neither British nor American. I have no idea why I was not cast for the movie, but I'm just grateful, because it was a wreck.
So, after a few murders they drive (flee? I wasn't watching too carefully) up to a cabin on the mountain, and they lock themselves in it to wait for daylight to come. When their professor tries to call for help from his cellphone, he finds out that it is not working, so naturally he assumes that the storm has damaged the antenna on the top of the mountain. He tells his eight or nine students that the phone is not working, and one of them goes "I have a little knowledge of electronics, I will go fix it!". Hey, dumbass, this is not the same as putting batteries in your mom's dildo, this is complex electronics. I mean, how stupid is that, the multi-million-dollar communications antenna breaks down and a sociology or what-the-fuck-ever undergrad student will go fix it. Naturally, some of the students get the faint idea that there is something wrong with that statement, so one chick tries to stop them by saying, obviously, "I don't think that's a good idea.". REALLY?! Why would that not be a good idea!? You mean that I shouldn't go off alone in the middle of the night to the top of the mountain just because a serial killer wants to kill me, and that I should safely wait in here with nine more people? That's crazy! Our electronics expert obviously disagrees because "she can't tell him what to do", and he gets in the car with a few more students (including the one that warned him, go figure) and they all drive off to the top of the mountain.
Somewhere along the way, the car breaks down (what a surprising plot twist, nobody could see THAT coming!) for no readily apparent reason, and they get out to wait for the killer (I think they actually had another reason for getting out, but it was stupid and I don't remember it). As you can imagine, they all die, or maybe one survives.
We now go back to the cabin where the others are waiting, and they are trying to figure out why the killer is killing them in that order. As soon as they start to find a logical pattern in the murders, the movie comes to an abrupt end, because I turned off the television, I can't stand to watch that shit. If you want to know what happens next though, I will venture a guess that the power goes off and they all end up dead, and the killer was actually the chick that warned the dude not to go fix the antenna. Can I have my Academy Award now?

Action at Smurf village.

Today I am going to reveal a big secret about the Smurf village. It is something your parents didn't want you to know when you were little, but that you always suspected.
You might have asked yourselves, "Hey, who do Smurfs have sex with?". The truth is that we are never privy to their most intimate moments, and they don't make any insinuations either. Well, today I'm here to tell you the entire truth about the Smurf villagers.
Before the arrival of Smurfette, all the Smurfs had sex with each other (yes, even Papa Smurf, but not Vanity Smurf, that dude only jerks off), and sometimes there were mass gay orgies in which the entire village would partake. The origin of Smurfette is a bit hazy, but that's only because they don't want you to know the truth. The official Smurfsite deliberately confuses us with this statement: "The wicked Gargamel originally created Smurfette to stir up trouble in the village. But Papa Smurf’s magic turned into the charming little Smurf that everyone adores."
That is only a half-truth. Gargamel DID create Smurfette, but to have her as his sex slave, because, let's face it, how cool is it to have a tiny chick do anything you want? After he created her, Papa Smurf stole her from him and took her back the Smurf village because he was tired of always taking it up the bum. Smurfette immediately agreed to go to the village because she's just one huge ho, and she's been enjoying little blue cock ever since.


This is Smurfette being a ho.
That is the truth to the mystery of Smurfette, and now we will move on to another mystery. That is, where did Baby Smurf come from? The website, again to throw us off, mentions that "On a blue, moonlit night, Baby Smurf was brought to the village by a stork."


Bastard Baby Smurf.
The truth there is that one day, as the Smurfs were having their weekly orgies, Hefty's rubber broke and Smurfette wasn't on the pill, but she was so embarrased about that that she stayed in her Smurfhouse for the entire time she was pregnant (that's 4 days), and then made up this bullshit story about a stork. Of course, the other Smurfs (even Hefty) believed it, because as you already very well know, Smurfs never talk about sex, they just do it.
This is the entire truth, and it leaves us with a ho and a bastard.

Dialers.

Yesterday I found out I had a dialer on my PC. Dialers are these little spyware shit programs that install on your pc without you even knowing. Then, if you live in a country retarded enough to still use dialup, it dials a number located on a planet outside our solar system and starts downloading porn while charging you obscene amounts of money.
You can imagine my surprise when I picked up the phone and heard the characteristic CHCHCHCHCHCHCHZZZZZZDOINGDOING of the modem. I immediately proceeded to rip the phone plug off the wall only to realise that the modem was connected to the other plug, so I ripped that off too. I then ran Spybot which hopefully removed the fucking thing once and for all, but not before it had charged me god-knows-how much, and I didn't even get to see any porn.
I guess the only thing left to do now is wait for the phone bill. I have decided to read the phone bill in reverse, i.e. starting from the last digit and reading backwards, so as to not be shocked with the actual amount I have to pay. I don't think I will get away with just passing out though. I expect a stroke and/or heart attack, since the price is over $2/min. Oh, if you want to help a poor soul, paypal me some money to poromenos@poromenos.org to help my cause and I will love you for ever and ever and ever. Also I will do anything you want as long as it involves sex with beautiful women.

Charisma and thieves.

If you don't play on Realms of Despair, stop reading.
If you do play on Realms of Despair, stop playing.
The next time I hear someone telling me that I need a thief to buy pots cheap because they will get 22 charisma I will chop their fucking head off with a fucking spoon. This will be me:

I will only say this once: ANYTHING OVER 22 FOR CHARISMA DOES NOT COUNT ON PRICES. So yes, someone with 20 and someone with 22 charisma will by the item for THE EXACT FUCKING PRICE.
Thanks for the hint though.

Murphy's Law.

OK. Seriously, what is wrong with the universe? Do you know that law that says that basically nothing will ever go well for you? It's true. Whenever I buy something shiny, like, say, a new screen, and I go into a chatroom to brag about it, this is what happens:
Me: Hey guys, I got a new Sony 17" monitor!
PersonA: Big deal, I have the new LG 45" super-slim TFT screen!
So then I just shake my fist at them, yell and leave. The next day I write a nice program and I again go to brag about it, and it's like this:
I: Hey guys, I wrote a cool program.
PersonB: Cool, what does it do?
I: It's a student database in C++.
PersonC: Oh big deal, I wrote mine in assembly and it has windows and it can even make coffee.
I then wish plagues upon everyone's house and leave again, chagrined. In the next few days I develop a slight inferiority complex and try to do something to pass my time, like copy a DVD. I enter the chatroom again and seek help from the versed professionals dwelling there, but to my dismay, Murphy's law is in effect:
I: Hi guys, I just got a DVD, can anyone tell me how to copy my files?
PersonC: A DVD? What's that?
I: The thing you watch movies on.
PersonC: Oh, you can write files on it?
I: Uh, yeah.
PersonC: Wow, how do you do that?
I: ...
I pose this question to you: How can it be that whenever I want to show off there's always someone that does it better than me, yet whenever I need help, everyone's IQ seems to drop 100 units? I could ask the simplest question and people stop for a moment and stare at me with a kind of frightened look, much like cows looking at the meat grinder, before continuing to graze.
I am sure the universe has conspired against me. I am sure that all these molecules and crap have united to stop me from getting any joy in this life. I am sure that right now they are looking at me and laughing their little round asses off, but I will have my revenge. I will develop new methods of nuclear fission and convert all the buggers to energy. Then I will be rich and I won't need anyone to answer my questions, I will have enough money to buy things the way I want them. Shut up.

Joke - Blondes.

A blind guy enters a bar and finds his way to a barstool. After ordering a drink, and sitting there for a while, the blind man hollers to the bartender, "Buddy, wanna hear a blonde joke?"
The bar immediately becomes silent. In a deep, husky voice, the woman next to him says, "Before you tell that joke, you should know something. The bartender is blond, the bouncer is blond and I'm a 6 foot 200 pound blonde with a black belt in Jeet Kun Do. What's more, the bloke sitting next to me is blond and he's a heavyweight boxer. The woman to your right is a blonde, and she's a pro wrestler. Think about it seriously, mister. D'ya still wanna tell that blonde joke?"
The blind guy says, "Ah, nah... not if I'm gonna have to explain it five times."

Joke - Horses.

Some race horses staying in a stable. One of them starts to boast about his track record. "In the last 15 races, I've won 8 of them!"
Another horse breaks in, "Well in the last 27 races, I've won 19!!"
"Oh that's good, but in the last 36 races, I've won 28!", says another, flicking his tail.
At this point, they notice that a greyhound dog has been sitting there listening. "I don't mean to boast," says the greyhound, "but in my last 90 races, I've won 88 of them!"
The horses are clearly amazed. "Wow!" says one, after a hushed silence. "A talking dog."

The crowbar joke.

All right. Enough of this. I am le tired of this "joke".
For those of you who don't know it, it involves Greeks, men, children and a crowbar and is to Greeks what "What is the difference between a nigger and a bucket of shit? The bucket" is to black people. It is very insulting to Greeks, men, children and crowbars. If I ever hear anyone telling that joke I will consider it permission to making fun of his sad country or planet.
Seriously, I will not be held responsible for any country bashing you receive after telling racist jokes aimed at any minority, and I will make fun of you even if you are Canadian. And because every post has to have something funny in it and the only way you could have laughed with this post is if you are a racist pig, here it is:
A horse walks in a bar. The bartender looks at him and says "Why the long face?"
Ahahahahahaha. Hilarious. Now go do your homework.

Strip nights

Yesterday I went to a strip club to take care of some business (and no, I do NOT mean masturbating, you sorry individuals). While there, and after I have had my share of ogling the pretty ladies, I started to notice peoples' reactions. Years and years (by which I mean about ten minutes) of research now allows me to post my results, deconstructing the psyche of the strip club goer. These are the categories of people you will find at a strip club:

The regulars

These people are mostly older men, single or with REALLY ugly wives, who do not have enough money to pay a hooker. They go there to get away from their wife (if available), and to store memories away for later use (read: masturbation). The more severe cases go there every night or so, and spend most of the money they make collecting soda cans on lap dances. My advice to you, if you belong in this category, is to get married (to an ugly woman, because let's face it, you can't do any better), or to get a mistress (which will be ugly, because let's face it, you can't do any better).

The newbies

People in this category are usually 18-25 and have never (or rarely) been to a strip club before. They are very easy to spot, because whenever the stripper stops in front of them they either avert their gaze or stare stupidly at her boobs (or pussy, whichever is lower). They may already have a girlfriend but are there either for memory storage or just tagged along when their single friends decided they wanted to go (make no mistake though, they wanted to go more than anyone else). My advice to these people is to not stare at strippers. They can tell.

The seasoned adventurers

This category consists of people who have been to strip clubs pretty frequently and they just have fun. They tend to be young, and they must not be confused with the regulars, since the regulars are WAY more pathetic. The seasoned adventurers may sometimes ignore the stripper if they are talking to their friends (not if the friend is a newbie though, it's hard to talk to someone who has temporarily become a vegetable due to excess staring), or they can be seen enjoying themselves (NO, NOT MASTURBATING, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU) when the stripper is teasing them. The healthiest people of the lot, the adventurers should keep doing what they do.

The stallions

These people are the real stars of the strip club. All the strippers want to have sex with them, and the stallion will rarely turn down a polite request. These are the people every patron of the club envies, as they get to do much more than stare. They are a very rare breed, and the only person like that I have met is myself, and he is a great guy. Thanks.

The shy ones

For whatever reason (they are usually butt-ugly), the shy people cannot get laid, so they go to strip clubs, which are still better than nothing. These people often pretend they have entered the wrong club but pretend to stay because they pretend not to have anywhere else to go (no, scrap the last pretend, they DO have nowhere else to go), or they pretend to be surprised, as they were not aware of the fact that this was a strip club, honest! (Cough). My advice to you is, GET A LIFE.

The strippers

The integral cog of the strip club, these pretty ladies can call me at 555-1234 or email me at ilovestrippers@microsoft.com.

Everyone else

There is noone else. Everyone fits on one of the above categories. If you think I made a mistake and you know of another category, shut up. You're wrong.

I hope I have helped you identify the people around you the next time you visit a strip club. If you are female, you do not go to strip clubs, so you have read this in vain. Bye now.

I should have said that.

I am sure everyone has had a moment in our lives where we thought, "Damn! I really should have said that!". Like when you realize that the cute woman sitting next to you in the bus was staring at you while you were getting off, you think "I really should have talked to her." or when you watch your wife drive off the edge of a cliff you think "I really should have told her that I removed the brake fluid for repairs today". It's these small moments that you will end up regretting for a long time.
But, fear not. I am here to save the day. There are a few simple steps you can follow to cut down on the amount of regretting you do. First and foremost, of course, is to not do something you might regret. So, the next time you see a cute girl, talk to her. It is better to get shot down every time than to think that there was a one in a million chance that she might not have spit on you. Of course, we both know you are too chickenshit to talk to a woman, so here is the next piece of advice:
Try your best to recreate the circumstances which you regret. If you missed the woman on the bus, get on the bus again (don't be afraid of looking stupid, you do anyway) and talk to her. If you killed your wife, serve your time, get married again, remove the brake fluid again and this time, tell her about it. This is a surefire way to relieve your conscience and help you sleep better at night.
I hope this short guide has helped you to improve your quality of life significantly. As always, cute women email me at idontgivemyemailtoanyone@domain.com.

Geography lessons - Mistake?

Some people may think that I have forgotten to place Australia and Antarctica on the map. That is, of course, a fallacy. They are both there, but you can't see them, because the map is a Mercator Projection. They are a bit to the left and down. Shut up now.
As always, email corrections and hatemail to billgates@microsoft.com.

Geography lessons - Canada.

Today's geography lesson is about Canada. Canada is here:


Population: Good people, albeit a bit few.
Language: Modded American English, pronouncing "about" as "aboot".
Flag: Red with a fig leaf to cover their nakedness.
National Anthem: Yes.
Area: Hugeass area, that's why there are two people per square kilometer in the city.
Currency: Canadian dollar. They call it dollar so you think it's American dollar, but it's cheaper, so it makes everything look more expensive, i.e. "Hey, look! I got this car for $150.000!" "Wow, is it a Ferrari?" "No, dodge" "Oh, you mean Canadian dollars."
Capital: The capital is apparently Ottawa, although everyone thinks it is Toronto, except the people who live in Ottawa.