Preserve the 80s

First off, I’d like to wish you all a tolerable New Year. Now that that’s out of the way, I shall address the topic of this post, which if you somehow managed to get here without seeing the title concerns the most annoying commercials that are currently on television. I know I’ve done a lot of bitching about commercials on here already, but asswipe ad creators seem to always be one-upping each other in suckassitude, and therefore I’m yet again writing up an annoying commercials tirade post.

The first commercial on the shit list is the “Dance Cooking” commercial for Bounty paper towels. This commercial combines three of my least favorite things: dancing, kids, and spilled liquids. It starts out with these two annoying little shits clumsily flopping around the kitchen to music as they wave spoons around and stir unidentifiable substances in bowls. All is well, happy, and serene as their mother looks at them with a look of intolerable smugness although the father has the classic “why the hell didn’t I get a vasectomy before it was too late?” look. It’s an unmistakable expression. I saw it on my father’s face every day of my childhood, and rightly so.

Anyway, one of the daughters eventually bumps into a glass and spills some kind of juice onto the counter. The kids just kind of gape at it in shock and Mr NoSnip looks like he wants to die. That’s when the smug mother snaps into action and blows our collective minds by showing she can wipe up the spill with just one sheet of Bounty paper towels.

I don’t even know where to begin when it comes to saying why I hate this commercial. Kids should be permitted to dance under absolutely no circumstance. I hate the looks on those little brats’ faces. So happy and secure with themselves as they dash around like retarded monkeys to shitty music. If your kids are going to be that careless when they’re cooking, then you shouldn’t let them cook. I wouldn’t trust them with an EZ Bake Oven, let alone actual cooking supplies. The whole commercial is like some kind of a pro-abortion PSA. Maybe in the next Bounty commercial the mother will have a miscarriage and wipe it up with just one sheet of paper towels. This time it’ll be the father who dances for joy.

Annoying commercial #2 is yet another one from Geico. Not satisfied with the irritating commercials they created that I mentioned in my annoying insurance commercials post, Geico had to raise the shit bar and scrap the Gecko in favor of the mother fucking annoying screaming pig. I hate the Geico pig more than pretty much anything else on this planet, and that even includes the health nazis. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, click the previous link or if you’re too lazy to go up and do  that, (hell, I probably would be) watch the embedded video below.

Every time that fucking pig says “wee-wee-weeee” I feel like I’m being gang-raped in every orifice with thorn encrusted dildos. It is the single most annoying and unpleasant sound I have ever heard. The worst thing about this commercial isn’t even the commercial itself – it’s the fact that this is a remake of an even more annoying commercial featuring the same abhorrent little porker (the one where he’s being driven home by some generic soccer mom). You’d think Geico would have gotten enough complaints over the first one, but apparently there are enough assholes out there who actually enjoyed it that they were inspired to make another one.

I also hate the way the pig waves those fucking pinwheels around the whole commercial. On an unrelated note, does anyone else out there remember the show Pinwheel? That show used to scare the living fuck out of me as a kid.

The third grating ad is the new commercial that’s running for the bacon double cheeseburgers at McDonald’s. This commercial sucks so much ass that even McDonald’s must be ashamed of it, because I can’t find a clip of it on YouTube to serve as a visual aid.

It’s pretty hard to create an advertisement for anything containing bacon that would incur my hate and wrath, but McDonald’s has managed to do just that. The commercial I’m haranguing is the one where some fat middle aged guy with a beard is lying in bed and his pregnant wife mumbles the word “pickles”. The guy appears to be about 50 and is too fucking old to be having new kids. It’s also depressing that this 50 year old fatass with a scraggly beard can get a hot young wife when I can’t attract women to save my life. Yes, I know it’s just a commercial but still… fuck.

As the commercial wears on, the expectant dipshit gets into his car and keeps saying “pickles pickles pickles” to himself over and over again. That alone shows that he shouldn’t be reproducing. I mean shit, his wife asks for one item, not an entire shopping list. Is he really going to go out in the middle of the night in pouring rain and then forget why he’s doing it? Apparently this is the case, because he gets distracted when he sees a McDonald’s and stops in for a bacon McDouble and returns home without the pickles and his wife is at the door waiting for him and scowling. He then gets back to his car and starts chanting about pickles again.

What kind of empty sack must this guy be anyway, that he’s getting up in the middle of the night to buy his pregnant wife pickles? She can fucking wait until morning if she wants them that badly. I can’t say I feel any pity for him though, because any guy who is dumb enough to not be able to remember something as simple as a jar of pickles deserves to be whipped and miserable. All other things aside,pregnancy craving jokes are the lowest form of comedy. Hack writers have been milking this shit-gem for decades now. It wasn’t funny 60 years ago and it’s not funny now.

Another commercial I hate that I can’t find a video for, or more correctly a series of commercials, is that ongoing douche opera featuring the roommates who are always playing Nintendo DS. Maybe it’s a different Nintendo system, but I don’t give a fuck. I suppose the fact that I can’t even remember what actual product these ads are for is a shining example of their utter worthlessness.

Anyway, each of these commercials starts out with four or five trendy looking wastes of life who are sitting around playing video games and talking among themselves. The main topic of conversation usually revolves around how much they hate the roommate with the blond hair and the big nose who I think is called John. John then proceeds to make some sort of claim that he’ll beat them in their current round of gameplay, only to fail and be subjected to various humiliating treatments.

The only game I’d like to see these bastards play is Russian Roulette. The only catch would be that every chamber would be loaded, so they’d all die. The John guy would get to have his revenge by shooting all of his roommates, and then as he was dancing around and gloating he’d inadvertently blow his own head off too. Somebody would also have to sneak some cyanide tablets into their beers too just in case they survived the bullet wounds. That’d be five less trendy college kids to worry about.

The last infuriating commercials that shall be discussed in this post are the ones that have been airing for the past 10 years or so for “Kidz Bop”. Every one of these commercials is pretty much the same. They feature groups of shrill voiced little bastards flailing around and singing their favorite pop songs. Pop music is annoying enough as it is. The only thing that can possibly make it worse is having the actual singers’ voices replaced by those of prepubescent little monsters.

There’s something very wrong with the world when these albums are successful enough that they’re continuing to be produced. The kind of parents who buy these for their kids are probably the same ones who end up being grandparents before the age of 40. Your obnoxious little bastards will have time to be sexually promiscuous and arrogant teenagers soon enough. For now just let them be the miserable little self-centered shits that they are.

Just in case you’ve managed to enjoy your life thus far, watch the below clip of the Kidz Bop kids dancing to Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way”. It will make you regret your very existence. Speaking of Lady Gaga, she’s an unbearable attention whore who would have worn out her welcome years ago, if it weren’t for the fact that she was never welcome to begin with.

Charlie Brown’s A Series of Unfortunate Events is actually a collection of five separate books where Charlie Brown and the rest of Peanuts gang find themselves in dangerous or scary situations, very similar to ones that many children find themselves facing each day. The goal of the series was to present potentially troublesome situations to children and through humor, arousal, and intimidation, teach them to avoid or handle the same situations should they be confronted with them.

1 Summary
2 The Books
3 Charlie Brown Meets Simon The Brown
4 Charlie Brown’s Baseball Team Gets A Kooky Koach
5 Linus Learns the Hard Way
6 Watch Out Lucy, Schroeder Can Sue
7 64 Things You Should Never Do with a Raccoon

Summary

The five books were entitled Charlie Brown Meets Simon the Brown, Charlie Brown’s Baseball Team Gets a Kooky Coach, Linus Learns the Hard Way, Watch out Lucy,Schroeder Can Sue, and 64 Things You Should Never Do with a Raccoon. The books were very controversial at the time of their release, which was in 1971. Widely banned by schools and denounced by parent’s groups, the series still became popular enough to be formatted into a made for TV movie which aired on February 20, 1972. Singer and raccoon rights activist Sammy Hagar was quoted as having said “This is wrong. It’s just plain wrong. David Lee Roth is somehow behind this, I just know it. Damn his oily hide.”

The Books

Charlie Brown Meets Simon The Brown

Widely considered to be the most famous and effective book in the series, this is the book in which Charlie Brown encounters Simon the Brown. This book seeks to teach children the importance of locking the doors and windows in their homes at night, that playing with corpses is wrong, and that if you value your testicles (or ovaries as the case may be) you shouldn’t question the actions of others. Though adapted from early Peanuts strips from the 1960s, Simon the Brown is much more well known from the book. Simon the Brown is a local fecophiliac who stands 4’1 and weighs 231 lbs. He needs to use cross country skis to get around because his significant weight and short stature make it difficult for him to walk long distances. He likes to break into Charlie Brown’s room at night, sing Bobby Darin songs, and stuff feces under Charlie Brown’s eyelids. One fateful night, Snoopy kills Simon by shoving a rusty railroad spike into him, which infects Simon with tetanus which he succumbs to 11 days afterward. For reasons unknown, Lucy and Snoopy decide to move Simon’s corpse around to create the illusion of him being alive, a technique that was later used in Weekend at Bernie’s. One night Charlie Brown dares to question this and Woodstock pecks him in the testicles and he ends up having to go to Nabisco Valley General Hospital. While there, he tells his doctors about Simon’s exploits but they do not believe him, and he is consequently placed on a heavy dose of anti psychotic medication. This causes him to become very uncoordinated and slows down his reaction time. This is the reason why he can’t kick a football anymore. A brief cameo appearance is made by Ethan the Yellow, Simon the Brown’s fraternal twin brother who stands 7’2″, weighs 97lbs and needs to use iron braces to walk. He is a urine fetishist.

Charlie Brown’s Baseball Team Gets A Kooky Koach

The second book of the series relates the tale of woe that ensues when Charlie Brown’s little league team gets a coach who has an uncontrollable lust for children. This book seeks to educate children on how to know a pedophile when they see one and to trust their gut when they think their Little League coach is behaving in an inappropriate manner. It also casts a very critical eye on today’s loose parole system in American prisons. After their Little League coach decides to move to Connecticut and start a jetski dealership, Charlie and company start their search for a new coach. While walking by a torched circus tent, they meet a trembling man dressed in a pink t shirt and yellow sweat pants named Mr. von Friendly. He overhears their talk of needing a coach and jumps at the opportunity. Delighted by the stranger’s charm, the kids make him their manager. Pain, confusion, and frustration ensue as Mr von Friendly refuses to focus on baseball and repeatedly makes the team wear speedos and jump around on a trampoline while he watches and grins unwholesomely. Pigpen eventually tips off the authorities when Mr Friendly insists on taking showers with the team at the end of each game, and he is promptly carted off to jail. Traumatized, the gang vows never to play baseball again.

Linus Learns the Hard Way

The darkest of all the books in this series, Linus Learns the Hard Way focuses on the toll that drug abuse and addiction takes on teens, their friends, their families, and the community at large. This book takes place ten years in the future, when Linus finds himself as an acne encrusted, socially awkward, and Del Monte obsessed teenager. He strikes out with the girls, loses interest in school, and just can’t seem to fit in socially. His constant references to Del Monte annoy his classmates and isolate him further. One day, a DARE officer comes to Linus’s high school to talk about the dangers of drug abuse but Linus doesn’t listen to him. On his way home from school that day, he meets a drug dealer named Horace who he buys some heroin from and starts shooting up. This becomes a daily habit for Linus and soon heroin is all he cares about. A particularly heart wrenching moment comes when Charlie Brown, desperate to get his pal to do something that doesn’t involve smack, tells him about a new kind of fruit salad that Del Monte is about to release. Turning away from Charlie, Linus says, “Who the fuck cares? Del Monte is dead to me, Del Monte can’t give me what I need.” After several failed attempts at conducting interventions for Linus, his friends eventually give up until Linus holds up the local Burger King, demanding the cash register be handed over to him because he’s out of money and needs his fix. He shoots three Burger King employees, then collapses to the ground realizing what he has become. Shakily, he points the gun toward himself and shoots, and the last page of the story contains nothing but a blood red page. On a mildly uplifting note, the book contains a “final thought” which says that this is a probable, but not definite future for Linus and that kids need to do what they can to avoid becoming like him. The book suggests such methods as joining the local 4H club, getting addicted to porn instead, or just killing themselves when they finish reading the book to make sure they never try that first shot of heroin.

Watch Out Lucy, Schroeder Can Sue

This is the fourth book of the series and is seen as the weakest both in content and plot. It’s been rumored that writing staff and illustrators didn’t get the cost of living increase they wanted and in reaction they purposely made this book as poorly as they could. The year is 1971 and the women’s lib movement is gaining momentum. Lucy feels emboldened by this and takes her pursuit of Schroeder up a notch. When Schroeder ignores her, she yanks some piano wire out of his piano and slashes Schroeder’s left index finger in half with it. After getting his finger sewn back together and taking some time to recover, Schroeder decides to sue Lucy. The reader never learns what happens after this because the rest of the book just contains 32 mostly blank pages. The pages that do contain text largely consist of the letter N and what appears to have been a brainstorming session for writing a slogan for Dan Quayle’s would-be 1972 presidential run. The slogans were all so horrible that Quayle decided not to go forward with his candidacy.

64 Things You Should Never Do with a Raccoon

This book is the last of the series and as the title implies, it educates children on things that should never be done with a raccoon. Examples include purposely infecting a raccoon with rabies then turning it loose on your oilman, jamming the raccoon down buxom women’s shirts on the subway, swinging a raccoon by its tail as a makeshift lasso, and getting practice on how to give an effective handjob through stimulating a raccoon. The most memorable section of the book is when Charlie Brown, Linus, Snoopy, and Peppermint Patty try to gain control of old people’s minds by using a raccoon. After they bring a raccoon into a convalescent home and untie it, they try to pick it up and get it to stare into the old people’s eyes as they slowly chant hackneyed hypnosis cliches. This doesn’t work and the raccoon jumps from their grasp and runs amok through the convalescent home, biting old people, knocking pills out of their jars, causing a kitchen fire, and tearing the shorts of an unsuspecting UPS delivery worker. As punishment, the kids are sent to juvenile hall for a month, then have to serve 50 hours of community service at the very same convalescent home.

Jorbler “Joey” Gladstone (1958-2007) was mainly known for being Danny Tanner’s friend and occasional yodeling coach, as well as that guy who told unfunny jokes on Full House

1 Beginnings
2 Joining the Tanner Family
3 Personality Traits
4 Health
5 Jet Ski Accident
6 Death

Beginnings

Joey was born on March 4, 1958 behind a McDonald’s restaurant in Hartford, Connecticut. His parentage is unknown, but on his birth certificate (which was written in crayon on the back of a hamburger wrapper) lists his mother as Elton John and father as one “Woo Woo John”. Gladstone refused to talk about his upbringing throughout his life. However, one night in 1989 when severely drunk on Tang, Joey confided in Michelle that he and his family moved to California to join the Manson Family, but were rejected on the grounds that there were all too short and stubby, and didn’t have enough of the old convalescent home snap. Joey broke down into tears after this revelation, but soon snapped into a rage after Michelle laughed at him. He attempted to strangle her, but was thwarted when Ed Gein appeared out of nowhere and beat him into submission with a framed picture of a Peerless onion bin.

Joining the Tanner Family

After being rejected by the Manson family, Joey eventually lived out the rest of his grim childhood and took a job working at the very McDonald’s he was born in. Being that he now lived in San Francisco, his daily commute was an enormous strain on him both physically and financially. In addition, since he did this from 1980-1987 so he never got to witness a first-run episode of The A-Team and also never found out who shot J.R.. He eventually quit his job and decided to go around the streets of San Francisco, telling unfunny jokes and doing awkward impressions of cartoon characters for tourist’s pennies. One day while panhandling, he wandered into a convalescent home and saw Danny Tanner nervously talking to himself and hiding behind a stack of Matlock video cassettes. He was wringing his hands and stomping around like an Armenian. Gladstone asked him what was wrong and Danny told him that he while he was in the convalescent home, he had a particularly bad episode of ocd and attempted to clean the old people’s depends before they even had a chance to soil them. Just about then, a lynch mob consisting the staff of the convalescent home, as well as many depend-less senior citizens found Danny and got ready to move into for the kill. Instantly, Joey snapped into one of his comedy routines which annoyed everyone so much they said they’d forget about what Danny had done if he’d just get Joey the hell out of the building. Joey and Danny became best friends as well as roommates as a result of this adventure.

Personality Traits

As already mentioned, Joey was a highly unskilled comedian and loved to annoy people with his caperings. What many people don’t know about him is that he had an out of control spanking fetish. Nobody in the Tanner house was safe from being pulled over his knee for a thorough ass reddening at any time. The only Tanner ever to escape from this treatment was Comet the dog, as he ripped off the ring finger on Joey’s left hand the one time he attempted to spank him. Despite the highly inappropriate and sometimes illegal lengths Joey would go to in order to satisfy his spanking urges, he usually got away with little to no consequences. There were however, two notable exceptions. One of these was when he burst on to the set of Wake Up San Francisco and spanked Rebecca, Danny, and special guest Julia Child. For this infraction, he received a fine of $50 from the FCC. The only other time he received any kind of punishment for his actions was when he spanked all three Tanner children as well as his own grandfather during a visit to the Tanner home by the DCF. He served 24 minutes in a maximum security prison and was forced to take six weeks of auto maintenance courses at the local adult education annex. Though usually very light-hearted, Joey for a time attempted to give up being childish. He started dressing in an orange sweatsuit and asking to be called “Watson”. Additionally, he once became so fierce in preparing for a hockey match that he scared Jeffrey Dahmer.

Health

For years, Joey lied to the Tanner family, claiming that he had never at any point suffered from erectile dysfunction even though he had suffered from the condition on and off between the ages of 2 and 11. In the episode “A Droop In Our House”, Joey’s father comes to visit and tells the Tanners about Joey’s childhood impotence, which he vehemently denies. He gets so angry that he shoves an entire bag of Cheetos into the family pencil sharpener. Much to Joey’s shock and horror, his erectile dysfunction makes an unwelcome and ironic return that very day. He wasn’t able to get it up again until 5 months later when he spied on the entire cast of The Wonder Years engaged in a mutual masturbation session.

Jet Ski Accident

In the summer of 1998, Joey was involved in a horrific jet ski accident while riding on his brand new (at the time) GSX, which he had named “The Red Blueberry”. On the day of the accident, he was zipping around in San Pablo Bay, looking forward to the Chris Ronnie and the People concert he was going to see that evening. He saw an an obese yet attractive woman on the beach and was trying to show off to her by steering the Jetski with his testicles. This caused him a significant amount of pain when his jetski went over a wave and jarred the handlebars into his testicles. Deciding that he didn’t want to do any more jetskiing for the day, he attempted to drive to his dock but in the process he smashed into another dock, killing six local Lithuanian locksmiths and scaring beloved humanitarian and frequent Wendy’s patron Arthur Shawcross

Death

Joey Gladstone tragically died on August 10, 2007 in a sleeping bag unrolling accident at the age of 49. He was cremated and his ashes were spread over the headquarters of the Firm Hand spanking video headquarters.

As a break from my usual routine of complaining about things, I’ve decided to resurrect some of the attempts of myself and my esteemed colleagues to educate the public on some of the lesser-known truths surrounding the heavy-hitting topics in life that matter most. Everything posted under this label will contain said pieces of journalistic bravery that were rejected from Wikipedia (some were even rejected from Uncyclopedia). From here on out, the truth shall be spoken and known.

There was a time, not too long ago, where I thought I would never experience a disappointment that would outdo the disillusionment I felt after first Trying the new McDonald’s Angus Burgers. I was proven wrong last night, in oh-so-many ways by one single entity: The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. Yeah, you read that correctly – The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. You’d think that being disappointed by an hour of blazingly hot girls in lingerie would be like freezing to death in hell – utterly impossible – and up until last night, I would have agreed with you.

Granted, the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show has been going downhill for the past 8 years or so, but this year’s specimen blew the shit right out of the toilet bowl. At one time, this used to be an event that was all about insecure pathetic guys who sat around at home because they lacked social lives and couldn’t get an attractive woman if their sad lives depended on it. In other words, guys like me. This was the one night of the year when we could pull our heads out of the oven and enjoy an evening of sophisticated titilation that didn’t result in quite the same degree of self hatred as shelling out money for Internet porn.

These old times for which I pine were in the days when the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show was about lingerie, rather than weird looking costumes that nobody would ever wear in real life. How fondly I recall the VS Fashion Shows of old where models would strut the catwalk in thongs and actually have the cameras focus on their asses as they turned to walk back to the backstage area. Anyone who reads this site with any degree of regularity knows that I’m an assman to the core. (I’m 1/2048th black and my fondness for a voluptuous set of female buttocks is where it comes out. I apologize to the PC crowd for the use of a hackneyed stereotype) As I said, in recent years the show has been going more and more downhill, but it is the ass shots that have suffered the most. Now, if any model is wearing panties that leave anything exposed, she’ll be wearing some kind of fucking cape or weird looking skirt to deprive us assmen of the view. In the few instances where this isn’t the case, the camera will usually pan away as soon as the girl turns around. However, even as recently as last year, a few ass shots were allowed into the airing.

Fast forward to this year’s show and things have taken a drastic turn for the worse. As I watched one model turn around, I saw that her ass was actually blurred out by the camera. Fucking Unbelievable, I thought to myself, hoping that it was just a case of the camera having trouble focusing at a distance. My self delusion didn’t hold up for long though, as ass after ass was blurred out in a similar manner. For a moment, please consider the thong. The thong is all about the ass, so to have a fashion show that displays such an item and to not show the ass itself is completely inexcusable. Let’s forget thongs for a minute. By this point I was willing to accept any ass shots at all. I kept time throughout the airing of the show and the total amount of screen time for a rear view of models (and this is counting panties that had full ass coverage) totaled 29 seconds. The show is 60 minutes long and when you factor in commercials and the insufferable musical peformances, there was probably about a half hour of actual lingerie being displayed. Even so, this amounts to 1800 seconds. This amounts to less than 2% of the time being devoted to ass shots. Even if you’re someone with an actual life, perhaps a woman watching the show, wouldn’t you at least want to see how the lingerie would look in action from all angles?

Going beyond the lack of ass, what was even more sorely lacking was actual lingerie. Instead of strutting the catwalk in bras and panties as they once did, nearly all of the models were wearing gaudy, ugly-ass, weird costumes that aren’t even sold in the Victoria’s Secret stores and which nobody would ever wear. You can quite clearly tell that these were designed by the kind of fellows who don’t find women attractive. I could see if just a few of these were included for the pageantry and all, but without exaggeration, they made up about 90% of the show. That’d be like Pizza Hut having an hour long tv special where they spend nearly the whole time showing their salt shakers and neglecting to mention any actual pizza.

One costume group that especially bothered me was when they had the models in “lingerie” superhero outfits. All of these of course came with capes that again blocked out any ass shots and in general were about as revealing and arousing as a grandmother in a bathrobe. I remember one of the capes said “Incredible!” on the back of it. The only thing “incredible” about this evening was the level of disappointment incurred and the fact that despite my complaining, I and every other pitiful guy in the country will be tuned in again next year, simply because it’s Victoria’s Secret and we’re stupid. If CBS were to show an hour long film of Ron Howard eating celery and put “Victoria’s Secret” into the title of the show, it would still draw millions of viewers and earn CBS a killing in ad revenues. Sometimes I just wish the world would end.

There were also a lot of needless segments that took place throughout the show. There were interviews with the models that nobody on Earth would find interesting. As if the regular interviews weren’t bad enough, they spent a good amount of time filming the models showing pictures of themselves as kids, often in revealing outfits. Note to CBS – showing a topless picture of a 6 year old isn’t going to impress anyone. If we wanted to see that, we’d be looking at child porn, and then hopefully looking at a prison cell. At one point during this process the screen kept filling with Batman-esque textual sound effects (hence the title of this post). When you can’t tell if you’re watching a lingerie fashion show or a low-budget 60s Adam West tv series, something is horribly wrong.

The worst part of the evening was probably all of the musical guests. No self-respecting sex deprived loser wants to watch Maroon 5, Jay-Z, or Kanye West sing and hobble around the catwalk at a lingerie fashion show. Hell, I wouldn’t want to see that anywhere. They could’ve at least gotten Beyonce to perform and made it more pleasant on the eyes… or they could’ve just had nobody singing and just had a real lingerie fashion show.

The commercial breaks pissed me off too. They kept touting annoying odious product after annoying odious product. “The Talk”. Late Show with David Letterman. The Lenovo “Do” Machine, PC Richard and Sons (damn that fucking whistle to hell). A wide array of CBS shitcoms. The only worthwhile commercials were the ones for Victoria’s Secret that actually showed some panties. Oh, the bitter irony.

Oh and I almost forgot to mention, there’s the whole “I love Geeks/Nerds” thing that kept going on. Some of the girls were wearing clothing that said it and some said it during their interviews. I’ve been hearing this all over the place lately (and seeing it on dating sites as well) but it seems to be yet another one of those meaningless phrases like “I’m laid back”, “Hope and Change”, or “No Child Left Behind”. When it’s time to put their money where their mouth is, women still hate and reject us nerdy/geeky/dorky chaps just as much as ever before and time and again choose the athletic hero/popular college guy types. Stop giving us false hope.

These are the kinds of things that make me feel like I’ve gotten old before my time. It took my grandfather over 80 years to become this bitter toward the world, though when he reached his pinnacle of bitterness, he was truly a king among men. I guess it’s nice to know that at least in one way, I’m significantly ahead of the game.

Recently, many fast food chains have been changing around their burgers at record speed and few if any of these changes have been for the better. Living in New England, which is widely known as the national dead zone for fast food chains, the pickings are slim. Basically our only burger choices are McDonald’s, Burger King, and Wendy’s (Though fortunately Five Guys and Sonic have recently entered the market). The big three have been fiddling around with their products and I’m not 100% sure why. All of the research I’ve conducted has produced different findings. Some say that they’re trying to appease the health nazis, some say they’re trying to appear more upscale, and others say that the changes are just due to the fact that the restaurants just want to continually evolve with time. You know what I say to that? Bullshit.

There’s no need to fix what isn’t broken. The first case I’ll bring up is with Wendy’s. Rather than simply introducing a new burger, they Wendy’s has recently decided to completely change how ALL of their burgers are made, with the new incarnations bearing the “Dave’s Hot and Juicy” label. I hope Dave Thomas doesn’t know about this, because if he knew they were going to fuck up his burgers and use his name to do it, he’d be rolling in his grave so hard it’d cause an earthquake. One of the changes included in this package is that the corners of the meat patties are now rounded. The whole fucking reason they were square in the first place was because research showed them to fit better on the bun that way. In addition to this, Thomas liked the idea of square meat because it literally showed that they weren’t “cutting corners”. A Wendy’s burger with rounded corners is like a strip club where all of the strippers’ tits are pixelated.

They’ve also changed the toppings on the burgers. Gone are the days of crisp, delicious iceberg lettuce and juicy ripe tomatoes. The vegetables atop the new burgers have the texture of a poorly starched shirt sleeve and taste about half as good. I’d have to say the worst change is how they’ve doubled the amount of cheese on each burger. I don’t know why it is that cheese is being pushed so hard. It tastes like shit and it’s not even good for you, so even the health nazis have no real reason to desire it. I always order my burgers without cheese anyway so this doesn’t affect me, but damn it, I have my principles.

Now I know what you’re all saying right now. You’re saying, “Wait a minute dumbass. The new burgers are ‘butter toasted’, so stop your bitching.” While this is true, it seems to be true only in theory, as a full month after the introduction of the new burgers, every Wendy’s location I’ve visited has been giving me burgers that are neither buttered nor toasted.

Burger King has been striking out pretty badly lately as well. One of their newest menu categories is their “topper” burgers. I was a bit excited when I first learned of these, but bitterly disappointed when I tried them. The Western BBQ topper is no different than the rodeo burger, the Deluxe is nothing but a deluge of cheese, and the Mushroom Swiss contains mushrooms that taste like they’ve spent 10 years enveloped in fat people’s rolls, marinating in sweat.

Another new and disappointing offering from Burger King is the Chef’s Choice burger. The only thing setting it apart from any other burger is the fact that it has double cheese (what the fuck is it with this trend?) and comes on a roll so spongy, thick and flavorless that is manages to almost entirely cancel out the flavor of the actual burger itself.

The greatest indicator of the brain death of Burger King is the fact that they’ve just pulled the greatest burger they’ve ever had from their menu. Of course, I’m talking about the California Whopper. With one bite of a California Whopper with its bacony goodness and guacamole kick, I would forget all about being in shitty-ass New England surrounded by assholes and think I was back in southern California, dining at a boardwalk Carl’s Jr or Jack In The Box and seeing hot girls go by in bikinis and seeing the crystal clear waves crash up against the shore. And homeless people. The California Whopper alone is what got me through the 2 week power failure following Hurricane Irene and now the bastards take it away from me.

The last establishment I’ll touch on in this post is McDonald’s. For a limited time, they’ve once again brought back the McRib, which is nothing less than a gift from God himself. However, three of the past four times I’ve tried to get one, it’s gone horribly wrong. One trip resulted in them putting the McRib on a regular hamburger roll, which is pure blasphemy. Another time they dressed it in cheese (again, with the mother fucking cheese), and a third time there were 2 hairs present in my McRib. My most recent visit was to a newer and cleaner looking McDonald’s whereupon I ordered five delicious McRibs to make up for the prior disappointments. I really do love the McRib. If I ever get married, I hope my wife will wear a McRib thong, complete with McRib sauce on our wedding night.

Time sure does fly when you’re poor, not getting laid, overweight, awkward, prematurely balding, and obsessed with 80s commercials. Actually that’s a big fat lie, but somehow preservethe80s is still going and maintaining its whopping 6-visitors-per day readership. Well to all 6 of you who may be reading this now, I’m giving you what you still, according to my anayltics, seem to want most. That’s right, it’s time for another list of depressing facts.

1. No matter how many different razors and guards I try, I still can’t stop my beard from being scraggly and uneven.

2. Last week some waste of life in Ohio tried to get her daughter’s elementary school in trouble for serving tater tots at lunch time.

3. Dancing with the Stars still hasn’t been cancelled.

4. Charlie Sheen worshippers are still constantly saying the word “winning”

5. Google’s straglehold on the Internet is even stronger now than it was the last time I bitched about it.

6. I never managed to get to Hot n Now before they went out of business

7. Clowning jobs have fallen 71% within the past 6 years. Clowns scare the hell out of me, and the only thing more unsettling than a happy clown is a sad one.

8. Almost every McDonald’s is masquerading as a snobby coffee bar with that whole McCafe nonsense.

9. Speaking of McDonald’s, I’ve only gone there three times this year since the Monopoly game started and I already have 5 Pennsylvania Railroad game pieces.

10. You never see old people buying those 10 cent York Peppermint Patties anymore. That used to be a staple image in every restaurant.

11. The bottle/glass/can return at Adam’s won’t accept 16oz cans of Pabst. There goes a good chunk of my income.

12. The original Wendy’s location has recently closed its doors.

13. Kids’ cereal mascots are no longer allowed to play prominent roles in commercials. With Cap’n Crunch no longer there to look out for my safety, I feel completely alone and adrift.

14. I recently saw an article entitled “The Death of the Thong”. Damn boyshorts. Damn them to hell.

15. Nobody has thrown Michael Vick to the lions, and I don’t mean the football team from Detroit.

16. Alan Keyes isn’t running for president.

17. Northern toilet paper is now officially called Quilted Northern. My Northern toilet paper-obsessed college accounting professor must be crying his eyes out.

18. The new dollar bills have a very unpleasant texture.

19. We now have another sitcom featuring Ashton Kutcher.

20. Wikipedia editors have become much more speedy and effective at detecting and removing my acts of vandalism.

21. Dish network found it necessary to replace SNY with the Oprah Channel

22. You came to this page looking for depressing facts, and now you’re just depressed that you wasted your time reading it.

I’ve been busier than a Depends-changer at a convalescent home lately and consequently haven’t updated this site in quite a while. Worry not, from now on I’m keeping my priorities in order and shall never again let Preserve the 80s fall to the wayside.

Now that that’s out of the way, I’d like to introduce the topic of this post. As a change of pace, instead of bitching about people. places, and things that suck ass, I’ve decided to think positive and make a humble tribute to the ten greatest currently living people in the USA. These people are Kings and Queens among commoners, legends among also-rans, and in general just too badass for this world. Without further ado, I present to you the list of the Top 10 Living People in the USA.

10. Betty White

Betty White is one of the few regulars from Match Game still living today, therefore making her the strongest link we have left to the comedic genius known as Charles Nelson Reilly, as he sadly did not reproduce. That reason alone is more than enough to qualify her for this list.

9. George Ouzounian (aka Maddox)

If you’re scratching your head and asking “Who the hell is George Ouzounian? Or Maddox?”, you need to immediately stop whatever you are doing (including reading this page) and visit The Best Page In The Universe. Maddox’s hatred for the world and everyone in it was a partial inspiration for Preserve the 80s. If Preserve the 80s can ever be 1/1000th as badass as Maddox’s site, it will be a miracle.

8. Mike Ness

Mike Ness of Social Distortion is pretty much single-handedly responsible for maintaining whatever dignity and appeal that punk rock has left. He’s what keeps the Green Days of the world at bay.

7. Tom Kruse, Inventor of the Hoveround

Not to be confused with the ambiguously oriented actor Tom Cruise, Tom Kruse is the distinguished inventor of the Hoveround, the greatest mobility device ever to exist. He has done more than anyone else to make us free to see the world.

6. Richard Karn

Richard Karn has beyond a doubt done more to promote and spread the awareness of flannel than any other man in the history of the world. He was also the sole tolerable actor on the shit heap known as Home Improvement and was more than adequate during his tenure as the host of Family Feud.

5. Wilford Brimley

While the rest of the world is telling Chuck Norris jokes, Chuck Norris is telling Wilford Brimley jokes. He has taught us all the importance of oatmeal and will one day win his one-man-war against Diabeetus. Screw the Dos Equis guy, Wilford Brimley is the most interesting man in the world.

4. Bill Cosby

Nobody had a stronger presence in the world of 80s tv commercials than Bill Cosby. Whether he was promoting Jello, New Coke, or Kodak Film, he did it all with style, class, and the best sweaters on the planet.

3. James Rolfe (The Angry Video Game Nerd)

Anyone who has ever gone on YouTube knows the Angry Video Game Nerd. Through humor, anger, violence, and profanity, he helps to heal the wounds caused by all the subpar video games we played in our childhoods. He’s the Gold Standard as far as online video game reviewers go and the only one even remotely worthy of this list. Overlord (real name unknown) deserves an honorable mention though, because it takes some balls for a grown man to admit to the world that he owns and plays a Barney video game.

2. Whoever Invented the Baconator

I wish I knew who this giant of culinary genius is, but unfortunately I do not know his or her name. Whoever you are, please know that you will always be one of my greatest personal heroes and have produced the all time greatest creation by a non-deity.

1. Vida Guerra

I will never need Viagra, solely because of the existence of Vida Guerra and her insanely hot ass. As if this were not enough, she recently posed nude in a video for PETA. I may not be too big a fan of PETA, but you’ll be hard pressed to find a bigger animal lover than me. While she may have been aiding an insane organization, her heart (and ass) was in the right place. Possessing a degree of hotness never before, presently, or in the future equaled, Vida Guerra is the #1 greatest person in the United States (shit, in the whole world) alive today.
 

David Letterman is an asshole and like any other asshole, he’s out there every day spewing more shit into the world. Every time I see his gap toothed smile or hear his irritating voice, I want to take a baseball bat to every television set in America. Between his patronizing interviews, ignorant remarks, legion of empty headed fans, and stale attempts at “comedy”, there are as many reasons to hate David Letterman as there are dollars in his bank account. To my knowledge, my house isn’t set as one of the homes used in Nielsen’s ratings studies, but in case it is, I turn on Jay Leno every single night just to take a chance at putting a small dent in Letterman’s ratings. Jay Leno isn’t much better – choosing Leno over Letterman is like choosing to have a hand amputated over having your cock amputated. That’s why when I put Jay Leno on I mute the tv and leave the room.

Sometimes I used to sit around and wonder how an asshole as great as David Letterman could possibly exist. Not being able to figure this out caused me great anxiety and frustration, until one day when I came up with the following theory, which shall henceforth be known as the David Letterman Equation:

The David Letterman equation is as follows: one ape + a pair of glasses + a pile of jizz rags = David Letterman. Remember that, because pretty soon it’s going to be appearing in math textbooks worldwide.
David Letterman’s assholery knows no bounds. He loves to spout of his political opinions, which are always misguided and utterly biased. I guess I shouldn’t complain though, who could possibly understand politics and the real world better than a guy who sits around telling unfunny jokes, licking his teeth, and cheating on his girlfriend? Speaking of his girlfriend, that’s another thing that pisses me off. David Letterman is 64 years old and a very unattractive 64 years old at that. Even with his money, he should be thanking his lucky stars that a woman is willing to let him penetrate her. Instead of realizing his good fortune, he goes off and bangs some other woman. I really hope that other woman was a prostitute, because having sex with Letterman and not getting paid for it is one of the worst tragedies a person could ever experience. I also hate the fact that David Letterman had a kid a few years back. This new trend of guys (especially guys who are celebrities) knocking up women and producing chips off the old shit block after the age of 50 is just wrong. When David Letterman’s son has a birthday party, he and his friends must have to play Tape the Depends on Daddy instead of Pin the Tail on the Donkey.

A few years ago I remember Bill O’Reilly appearing on the Late Show. Bill O’Reilly is another douchebag. The idea that conservatives want to use him as their mouthpiece makes about as much sense as somebody appointing Michael Vick as the spokesman for the Humane Society. Then again, Republicans have put up the likes of Newt Gingrich and Sarah Palin as their preferred 2012 candidates who are probably the only 2 people in America who COULDN’T beat Obama at this point.
Anyway, Letterman and O’Reilly were engaging in a debate which mostly consisted of O’Reilly babbling about various things and Letterman spouting off nonsensical answers that were nothing but emotion and basically “I know you are, but what am I” type rebuttals, each of which would be followed by an ovation by his drooling Pavlovian fans. By the end of the debate, O’Reilly had pretty much sealed a runaway victory, which was just sad. Getting owned in a debate by Bill O’Reilly is only slightly better than losing a chess match to a Pringle. Actually it’s probably worse, because at least the Pringle won’t be looking into a mirror and masturbating about the victory afterward.
Another reason I hate David Letterman is that he is responsible for spawning Jimmy Kimmel Live. Jimmy Kimmel is quasi entertaining and semi likable when he’s part of a comedy team or ensemble, such as his roles with Win Ben Stein’s Money, The Man Show, and Crank Yankers. However, he doesn’t have the personality or comedic ability to carry a show on his own. This is probably due to the fact that he is widely known to have idolized David Letterman as a kid and obsessively watched every single episode, even going as far to host David Letterman parties with his friends. After all that time watching Letterman, it’s amazing that Jimmy Kimmel isn’t an even more mindless unfunny drone than he already is.
David Letterman is as smarmy a bastard as they come. Every now and then he gets himself in hot water by opening up his dentist-neglected mouth and saying something that pisses everyone off and he’s forced into making an apology. However, every time this happens, his apology ends up being just another insult to whoever he pissed off and another self worshiping session. I really hate every single thing about David Letterman and his show. I hate that bald guy who basically serves as Letterman’s right hand man during each episode. You know who I’m talking about – that bald guy with the sunglasses. I don’t hate him as much as I hate David Letterman, but he’s still obnoxious and unbearable. He’s like that lone hard piece of shit you sometimes see in the middle of a pile of dog diarrhea. I literally got writer’s block and sat here for 20 minutes trying to come up with a good analogy to suit that guy, and that’s the best I was able to come up with, though it is pretty fitting.

Right now I’m at a Hyundai service center waiting for the air conditioner in my Accent to be fixed. Upon my arrival I was informed that I was in for a bit of a wait, so I decided to traverse around the building to see what I could do to pass the time. In my travels, I happened upon a row of vending machines and moved in for a closer look. After examining their various wares and weighing my options, I decided on a pack of “Swiss Creme Sandwich Cookies” and after depositing my money, receiving the cookies, and picking up my change, I headed back to the waiting room.

Good things come in nondescript packages

As I looked down at the package of cookies in my hand, my expectations were fairly low – I mean this was a pack of cookies from a vending machine that cost 85 cents. There were six in the package, so that works out to just over 14 cents per cookie. Adding to this was the fact that Swiss was up until today an unknown brand to me, I vowed not to get too excited and set myself up for a fall. All I can say is that I was wrong. Dead wrong. More wrong than an ethics committee consisting of Anthony Weiner, Mark Sanford, John Edwards, Arnold Schwarzengger , and Andy Dick. From the first moment I tasted one, I knew I had to dedicate my life to both consuming and spreading awareness of what can be called without hyperbole, the greatest invention of all time.
The price, location, and fairly nondescript packaging of these cookies greatly belied their immense glory. The texture was amazing. It was crunchy but not crumbly and light and crispy but not even remotely health-nazi esque. The cream filling is far superior to anything I’ve ever tasted in an Oreo, and dare I say it, even a Hydrox. The filling and exterior come together in a way that I can’t even begin to explain. The first bite was more intensely pleasurable than 1000 simultaneous orgasms. I finished the first package in about 30 seconds, and with the remaining $10.00 I had in my wallet, I purchased 11 more. In all seriousness, it is taking every ounce of restraint in my body right now to not commandeer the PA system in this building and trumpet out the splendor that is a Swiss Creme Sandwich Cookie to every worker and customer here.

Oreos have nothing on these

Even on an aesthetic level these cookies are incredible. Each half of the sandwich cookie features an intricate and highly artistic pattern of four converging swirl patterns which in the middle form a noble and unmistakable diamond. Forget the Mona Lisa, Starry Night, the Sistine Chapel painting and any of that other “art”. These cookies are art. A masterpiece. A work for the ages.

Screw Leonardo, Michaelangelo and the rest, both the artists and the ninja turtles. This is real art.

Has this article piqued your interest in Swiss Creme Sandwich Cookies? If so, I have some wondrous news for you – these gifts from God are available in 120 – ONE HUNDRED FUCKING TWENTY packs on Amazon. As soon as I pick up my paycheck I’m ordering 2 of those, minimum. I strongly urge you to do the same, or at least search for a vending machine that possesses them and join me in paradise. It will be more thrilling than losing your virginity, the birth of your first child, your wedding, graduation, and nearly every other notable event in your life combined, and that is no lie.

If any of the above wasn’t compelling enough, here is a picture of my dog as I’m showing him the Swiss Creme Sandwich Cookie I’m about to give him. Don’t let the cool and suave exterior fool you, inside he’s spinning somersaults of joy.

C Howard is playing it cool

I’d like to begin this post by saying a big “shame on you” to the pussies at DDB Worldwide. DDB Worldwide is the corporation that handles marketing for McDonald’s and that has recently given in to pressure from Mrs. Rodupmyass and her ilk. As I’ve covered in a previous article, irresponsible parents such as Mrs. Rodupmyass have been all over McDonald’s and other fast food companies in the past few years trying to get them to eliminate “unhealthy” items from their menus because they’re too damn lazy and feckless to just say no if their kids ask for them. Unfortunately, their efforts to remove beloved fast food Americana are not limited just to the food itself. In 2007, a group of unfit parents rallied against McDonald’s and DDB Worldwide demanding that the McDonaldland characters be removed from marketing as they were supposedly to blame for their kids becoming giant fatasses. They’ve allowed Ronald McDonald to stay as long as he is visually advocating healthy lifestyle choices (better wrap up Ronald ol’ buddy), but the rest of his friends are gone for good. I don’t know exactly what Grimace was supposed to be, but I can say with 100% certainty that he’d be a more fit parent than many of the people who are “raising” kids today.
As much as DDB Worldwide’s lack of balls annoys me and as much as I hate to see the health nazis win another battle, there’s something else about this whole issue that really eats at me. As you’ve most likely noticed, the McDonaldland characters, and for that matter, McDonaldland itself, were removed from McDonald’s marketing without a proper send-off. There was no formal announcement or commercial story to show what happened to them or where they were going. Nobody knew the fate of McDonaldland… until now. Read on to learn of the tragic and unfortunate demises which befell our beloved childhood friends.

Hamburglar – After years of petty theft and brief stints in various McDonaldland prisons, Hamburglar started getting tired of such an unfulfilling life of trivial and inconsequential crimes. Whenever the other inmates discovered that he was in prison due to hamburger theft, he ended up beaten and full of “special sauce” faster than you could say robble robble. Such vulnerability was compounded by his unusually small stature and childlike facial features. Knowing that he couldn’t shake a life of crime but wanting more respect in the big house, Hamburglar decided to kick his criminal activity up a few notches. Never being much for forethought, Hamburglar decided to just take the first opportunity that came his way. This came in the form of a tickertape parade for Mayor McCheese after he won an unprecedented 21^st re-election. Hamburlgar took his position atop the McDonaldland Gun Shop (the irony was purely coincidental, not intentional on the part of Hamburglar) and opened fire when McCheese’s motorcade passed on the street below, instantly killing the beloved politician. As Hamburglar turned to flee, he realized that he had accidentally locked the roof access door behind him, leaving him stranded atop the building. Deciding there was nothing left to lose, he jumped down off the building with the gun, in a kamikaze style attack. Unfortunately, his poor coordination ended up foiling him as he instantly fumbled the gun and his suicide attempt was also unsuccessful as the building was only one story tall. He was promptly arrested by Officer Big Mac, tried for the murder of Mayor McCheese, found guilty, and sentenced to death in the electric chair.

Mayor McCheese- See above

Birdie – After being guilted by family members about spending all of her time in McDonaldland and never visiting, Birdie decided to book a flight to see her kinsfolk in southeast Asia. All was going well at first, but after a few days Birdie starting feeling horribly ill. She couldn’t stop coughing, her muscles ached, her throat was on fire, and she was beginning to develop pink eye. After attempts by the village doctor to diagnose her illness proved futile, Birdie flew back to the United States to visit the Mayo Clinic. Unfortunately, she died on the flight over there and was posthumously diagnosed with Avian Influenza.

Officer Big Mac – Once Officer Big Mac had managed to finally take care of the Hamburglar for good, he felt invincible and unstoppable. He figured if he could do away with McDonaldland’s most notorious criminal and avenge the death of his dear friend Mayor McCheese, then no task was beyond his ability. He decided to take a trip out to New York to crack the still-unsolved case of the Long Island serial killer. After talking with Joel Rifkin to get some insight into the mind of a top level prostitute whacker, Officer Big Mac headed into Long Island to bring the killer to justice. Soon after that, he disappeared and two weeks later, his remains were found in the same marsh as the killer’s other victims. Closer inspection by forensic scientists revealed that McDonaldland’s top cop had his head cleaved in two with his own badge. The Lesson – Pride goeth before fall.

Happy Meal Guys – Somebody ate them. I don’t know why this didn’t happen sooner.

Grimace – With his uncontrollable lust for McDonald’s milkshakes, Grimace was a long-time sufferer of obesity and the perfect fodder for famous asshole Morgan Spurlock to use in his health nazi propaganda film, Supersize Me. Not wanting to be the cause of the death of what he loved most, Grimace put his clogged heart and soul into trying to lose weight and get in shape so that Spurlock couldn’t make his film. All was going well until one day when Grimace made a trip to the McDonaldland mall to buy some multivitamins from GNC. As he ascended on the escalator, he unfortunately became lost in thought and didn’t realize when he had reached the top, which led to his toe getting caught in the belt of the escalator and his body being horribly mutilated. Grimace survived long enough to make it to the hospital, where, on his deathbed, Ronald McDonald tearfully lied to him, saying that Morgan Spurlock had been sued for libel and couldn’t produce his documentary. Though deceived, Grimace died a happy whatever-the-fuck-he-was.

The Fry Guys – Shit if I know

McNugget Buddies – After years of their non-stop gratuitous use of puns, everyone in McDonaldland was getting pretty sick of the McNugget buddies. The locals hatched a plan whereby they would cook up a false award ceremony in which the McNugget buddies would be honored for their bravery and tenacity in proving that anyone, even cut up and deep fried pieces of chicken carcasses could survive and make a difference in the world. The ceremony was to be held in the outskirts of McDonaldland, right next to the very bear-centric nature reserve. Knowing the propensity of the McNugget buddies to jump into whatever dipping sauces were available before shrieking out corny puns, the townspeople brought along several honey packets. As the ceremony began, the McNugget buddies predictably enough jumped into the honey packets, uttering such irritating phrases as “What a SWEET deal!”, “I don’t need a hairbrush, I need a HONEYCOMB!”, and “Gee, I hope this bee honey doesn’t give me HIVES!”. The conspirators then faked laughs and anxiously waited for the bears to show up. After a few seconds, a bear smelled the honey and arrived on the scene, gobbling up the McNugget buddies. Among screams of pain and fear, one of the McNugget buddies was heard saying, “I guess I’ll just have to grin and BEAR it!” as he disappeared into the mouth of the bear. The bear then vomited up the mangled corpse of the McNugget buddy and lumbered away.

Captain Crook – Considering himself too good of an actor to continually appear in McDonald’s commercials and trying to steal Filet-O-Fish sandwiches, Captain Crook decided to go to Hollywood and audition for the latest Pirates of the Carribean movie. However, he was cut before he could even read his first line. Overwhelmed with misery, he swiped a reel of film from the studio and took it back to his hotel room where he used it to hang himself.

Mac Tonight – The only member of the McDonaldland gang other than Ronald to survive, Mac Tonight now tours with Richard Cheese as his opening act.

After all of these deaths, McDonaldland’s economy had taken quite a hit as McDonald’s commercials were its backbone. Both economically and emotionally depressed, the citizens of McDonaldland were looking for help and were willing to believe in anything. It was around this time that Jim Jones’s lesser-known brother Tim Jones showed up and started a cult of his own in McDonaldland. The basic goal of this cult was to ensure that people stopped incorrectly referring to the Flavor Aid used by his brother as Kool Aid. After mixing up some Flavor Aid laced with poison, Jones passed it around to the townspeople and they all drank it and promptly died. Jones’s last words were, “From this day forward, people will use the expression ‘drinking the Flavor Aid’!” He was wrong.

So now that you know the true story behind the disappearance of the McDonaldland characters, you must be asking yourself “What’s going to happen to Ronald now that he’s lost all of his friends?” Well, the answer is that Ronald became very depressed and started hanging out at Hot Topic. He’s now emo and is too skinny, weak, and depressed to appear in McDonald’s commercials to promote healthy lifestyles, because that’s a little hard to do when you can’t go five minutes without cutting yourself.

Happy 2nd birthday Preserve the 80s!

You know what’s neither funny nor entertaining? Insurance. Insurance is a necessary evil in our lives and when it comes to buying insurance and setting up a policy, the best thing to do is to just get to the point and not beat around the bush so that you can get on with your life. When an insurance company puts out an advertisement, it should be informative and serve as a tool to steer you to whatever company and policy best fit your needs. State Farm, Progressive, Geico, and eSurance don’t seem to understand this simple concept. Lately all of their commercials have been pathetically failed attempts at comedy that have made me hate insurance salesmen more than ever before. They’re advertising insurance. They’re not on the stage at some shitty comedy club. Perhaps they think that by annoying the public enough, they’ll be stuck in their heads and they won’t be able to help but buy their insurance. Companies like these make me wish there was some commerce equivalent of a serial killer that would take these companies out one by one in successively grisly fashion.
While Geico’s commercials aren’t quite as bad as the other comapny’s ads, I blame them for all of this bullshit because they were the first insurance company to start trying to inject comedy into their advertising with that fucking gecko. The Geico gecko is to insurance commercials what Ted McGinley is to sitcoms – slightly annoying and pretty forgettable, yet at the same time a harbinger of annoyance, weak comedy, and an eventually unbearable watching experience. The latest Geico commercials feature the Gecko along with some stupid douche who looks like a college radio disc jockey. The basic formula is to have someone call into their radio show and ask a question which is then answered by the gecko with some insipid drivel mixed in from the douche jockey. I really hate that kid. If that “Dude, you’re getting a Dell” guy banged and somehow impregnated a hybrid of a Hanson cd and a tampon used by Goldie Hawn, the douche jockey would be the end result. That’s probably the laziest and worst analogy ever made in the history of mankind, but the douche jockey doesn’t deserve any better.
While Geico is the indirect cause of this annoying trend, State Farm is probably the participating company that lets me down the most. Back in the 80s (and even the 90s) when you heard the phrase “Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there” it actually meant something. It struck a chord deep within the soul and tugged at the heartstrings quite unlike any other insurance tagline ever could. The commercials were brief and to the point and there was no doubt as to the fact that State Farm had everyone’s best interests at heart. I give this 80s State Farm commercial as evidence. The fact that this commercial was kid-centric and still managed to be so effective and perfect despite the hideous presence of children shows just how strong State Farm’s commercials used to be. Sadly the mighty have fallen and they’ve fallen hard. The State Farm commercials of this day and age always consist of a bunch of young and trendy assholes sitting around and fucking up, then singing the once sacred catchphrase and adding “with…” and then some person/item that will improve their situation and consequently being bailed out by a State Farm agent and said person/item. The last time I saw one of these commercials, I tried singing the catchphrase and then adding “with a ray gun that will allow me to banish all of the actors in this commercial into an alternate dimension”. I didn’t receive my ray gun and the shitty commercials continued. Way to give me false hope State Farm.
eSurance has hopped on to the non-comedic comedy train as well with its latest ads. After spending a few years featuring Erin e-Surance in their commercials and realizing that there aren’t enough people out there who are willing to jerk it to a cartoon character, eSurance decided they’d try to blend in with the crowd and annoy the fuck out of the viewing public. eSurance’s new commercials are not only tremendously annoying, but they also unintentionally depict eSurance as a pretty pathetic company. In their most recent commercial, the “Saver” (some asshole who likes to spout off different names for money and who is apparently eSurance’s top seller) is revealed to be a party disc jockey on the weekends. If a company’s top performer is making so little money that he has to resort to such a pathetic side job to survive, the company must suck large quantities of ass. I guess it doesn’t speak very well of me that I’m bothering to read this much in to an insurance commercial (and a poor one at that), but what else does a parent’s-cellar dwelling 27 year old who makes less than $10k per year going to do with his time? I can only devote so much time to porn. As a side note, what is it with insurance companies, shitty commercials, and disc jockeys anyway? Maybe these commercials are written by manatees just like Family Guy.
I think Progressive’s commercials are the ones that I hate most of all. The only good thing about them is that they named that annoying bitch who stars in all of their commercials Flo. It’s quite a fitting name because she’s about as tolerable as a woman who’s being visited by eight simultaneous Aunt Flos. You’d think such a thing would be physically impossible, but I also thought it was impossible to make such annoying commercials until Progressive proved me wrong. Progressive commercials also win the prize for being the most disturbing out of all of them. The way they have everyone appear in some seemingly endless white space has a distinctly disorienting and troubling effect. Are they trying to make it look like some distorted interpretation of heaven? If so, and they’re accurate, maybe going to hell won’t be so bad. Then again, if I go to hell, it’ll probably be an endless Progressive commercial. I guess my only option is to stay alive, but then I’ll still be seeing these ads. Apparently there’s no escape. I’d better drink up and stop thinking about this.

Very few of the comments that are made on preservethe80s ever see the light of day. The vast majority of comments are either from assholes and spambots, with the spambots contributing the lion’s share. As I’m sure you remember, (actually you probably don’t, unless you happen to be one of my 5 or so regular visitors) I once wrote a post on lazy spammers in which I discussed how spammers just aren’t trying these days. Since that time, the amount of spam comments I receive has gotten even greater, with the comments being even more obvious and pathetic. Making the situation even more laughable is the fact that a good deal of the spammers now use Preservethe80s, or variants thereof in order to post the comments. I guess they think I’m just not too bright and won’t figure it out, or that I’ll be too lazy to read comments before approving them.. though they probably assume both. I suppose that rather than AI, these spambots should be labeled as AU – Artifical Unintelligence. However, a few of them are so bad that they’re actually a little bit comical, and those extra special shitpiles will get the recognition they deserve by being enshrined in the Spambot Hall of Fame.

Preservethe80s.com – “Spammers just arent trying anymore.. Keen”

“Update preserve los 80s.. Huh, really?”

“Why doesnt anyone in connecticut realize that dunkin donuts sucks.. Bully”

“Update 2.. Slap-up”

“Mcdonalds deluxe bacon angus burger gets it all wrong.. Great idea”

“Greetings.. Tiptop”

“Last nights gumbo didnt go so well.. Amazing” – Even by my standards, the gumbo story is a boring one.

“Greetings.. Dandy”

“Is humanity a terminal illness.. Slap-up” – I’ve never heard anyone but this spambot use the expression “slap up” and I have no idea what it’s supposed to mean, but I kind of like it. I’m going to use that from now on.

XBox 360 Support – “Good one you, man! Really great stuff here.”

Auto-Ru - “Thanks, it’s usefully for me.”

Auto-Ru deserves extra recognition because in addition to making one of the weakest spam comment attempts I’ve encountered, it also has the most obvious spambot name. AUTO-Ru? Really? Please, whoever came up with that name, pull your head out of your ass.

Women Sober House – “Throughout this awesome design of things you secure an A+ for effort. Where exactly you actually confused me was in your facts. You know, it is said, details make or break the argument.. And it couldn’t be much more true here. Having said that, permit me tell you just what did deliver the results. The authoring is certainly rather engaging and that is probably the reason why I am making an effort to opine. I do not make it a regular habit of doing that. Second, whilst I can certainly see a leaps in reason you make, I am not certain of how you seem to connect the details which in turn make the actual final result. For now I will, no doubt subscribe to your point but hope in the future you actually link your dots better.” – Keep in mind, this comment was about the 11 Ways to be an Asshole using Cheetos post.

RepeFlepe - “Surgery because colon cancer or prostate can also exhort penis devastation with an understanding of worldwide time. ”

Using QR Codes -”In this grand design of things you’ll get a B- with regard to effort and hard work. Exactly where you confused everybody was in your facts. As as the maxim goes, the devil is in the details… And that couldn’t be much more accurate in this article. Having said that, let me say to you precisely what did give good results. The authoring is certainly very powerful and that is probably the reason why I am taking an effort to opine. I do not make it a regular habit of doing that. 2nd, although I can easily notice the leaps in logic you come up with, I am not confident of just how you seem to connect your details which make your final result. For right now I shall subscribe to your point but trust in the future you actually connect the dots better.” – This one was also about the Cheetos. Apparently spambots think I’m not connecting the dots when it comes to being a bastard with cheese flavored corn-based snacks.

Swanyseen – “I learned early on, having known the most handsome, successful, Gary Cooper, Clark Gable, Robert Taylor, don’t ever spend too much time looking in the mirror.”

Making Flyers – “The crux of your writing whilst appearing reasonable at first, did not settle perfectly with me after some time. Someplace within the sentences you managed to make me a believer unfortunately just for a very short while. I still have got a problem with your jumps in logic and one might do well to fill in those gaps. In the event you actually can accomplish that, I will certainly end up being impressed.” – Cheetos again

That’s all for now, though this post will be updated as more shitty spam comments make their way to my site. Either that or I’ll create a new separate page for the Spambot Hall of Fame, but chances are I’ll be too lazy to take the 30 seconds to do that.

You know what I hate? Google. I don’t care if you read the title or not, but I’m going to keep on saying it. I hate Google. I hate Google. I really FUCKING HATE GOOGLE.
Damn it feels good to say that. Seriously, I despise Google so much that every time I say or type “I hate Google” I experience 1/4 of an orgasm. I hate Google. I hate Google. Did I mention that I hate Google? Yes, because I hate Google.

While I’ve hated Google since the days before it was a household name, my hatred of it has only increased in recent years. First off, there’s absolutely nothing about it that makes it preferable to Yahoo, Bing, or any of the other also-rans that used to populate the Internet. That was back in the days when there was still a little thing called competition. You know, that silly little insignificant concept on which our economy once thrived. Google encourages laziness, mindless devotion, a lack of privacy, and dangerous ignorance.

Before I touch on any of those subjects, I’d like to revive a rant that I’ve made on this site before. It pisses me off to no end when people use Google as a verb. Seriously, why the fuck do people have to do that? I can’t think of any other company or service with which that is done. When’s the last time you heard someone say “I’m going to Wal-Mart it” when they planned to buy a pair of jeans, “Hey let’s Penthouse it” when they wanted porn, or “Wait a minute, let me Everest & Jennings it” when they needed to go somewhere in their wheelchair? You’ve never heard it because anyone who said those things would sound like a dumbass. It’s no different with Google. My guess is that making Google into a verb was probably an inside plan by Google to try to keep their shitty product on people’s minds 24/7.

One thing I hate about Google is their immense greed, which in turn begets laziness on behalf of the public. They want to get their filthy paws on every last Internet and communication resource and will stop at nothing to get it. Not only this, but they try to pry into your personal information as well. I loved Youtube when it first came out, but ever since Google got control of it, it’s been on a steady downhill decline. Most notably, Google recently made it so that you can’t log in to your Youtube profile or comment on a video without first registering for a Gmail account and then signing in with that. The real ass raping begins when you try to set up your Gmail account. They ask you for the standard buffet of personal info you’d expect to provide when setting up an e-mail account, but then they take it one step further by demanding your mobile phone information. Part of what is so great about interacting online is the complete anonymity. Google is doing its part to slowly take that away. They want to know who you are, where you’re from, and how they can get at you before you can even do something as simple as log into a Youtube profile. A direct quote from Google Chief Executive Eric Schmidt relates the following: “We cannot even answer the most basic questions because we don’t know enough about you. That is the most important aspect of Google’s expansion.” However, it has been proven that Google stores this information and continues to very closely supervise users for a period of at least 2 years after obtaining their information. Shame on you, you greedy peeping toms.
As I said before, Google’s greed begets laziness and empty-headed devotion. People don’t bother checking other resources anymore, they just go to Google to retrieve the biased and watered-down information it has to supply. Also with its peripheral services (most of which suck harder than a starlet trying to avoid criminal charges) they’ve trained most of the public to just depend on their third rate products and to think that spending 2 seconds typing in a URL to a different site is far too much work for their chubby little fingers.

Aside from the poor quality of its services, intrusive manner, and doing its part to continue dumbing down America, Google also promotes a dangerous degree of ignorance. They are unabashedly biased and have no sense of equality or objectivity. Google has been caught in the act in refusing to publish right-leaning blogs and material, was caught red-handed trying to divert travelers away from the Rally to Restore Honor, and has committed many other similar offenses. Google only wants to tell one side of the story and wants to keep America in the dark when it comes to any opposing viewpoints. I did a little bit of personal research as well to see what I could find. One brief experiment that I conducted yielded the following results. I typed “Obama is the best president” and “Obama is the worst president” into Google, Yahoo, and Bing. Here is what I got back:

Google: Best – 362,000
Worst – 107,000

Bing: Best – 251,000
Worst – 260,000

Yahoo: Best – 250,000
Worst – 304,000

Surprised? Well maybe if you knew this tid-bit of information you wouldn’t be – since Obama has taken office, NASA’s Moffett Airfield has basically been turned into a private airport for Google and its executives and you and I as taxpayers are footing the bill. This airport isn’t just used for business matters though, it has also been used as a point of origin for top Google executives to fly to the Carribean for at least 3 vacations, and also for Schmidt to attend the Cannes Film Festival. Shit, I guess the Obama administration earned Google serving up their bias to the country, no? Google is basically the Internet version of what so many people feel Fox News is to television, only worse because bias is only one of its many sins.
Now don’t worry non-conservatives, I haven’t forgotten about you either. You have just as much reason to hate Google as the conservative set does. Despite its anti-right wing censoring, Google does tip to the right on one big issue. Google is quite heavily enamored with the patriot act, a work of bullshit art imposed by George WMD Nukular Bush. Here’s a gem of a quote by Schmidt, promoting the patriot act as well as Google’s right to our privacy – “If you have something that you don’t want anyone to know, maybe you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place. If you really need that kind of privacy, the reality is that search engines—including Google—do retain this information for some time and it’s important, for example, that we are all subject in the United States to the Patriot Act and it is possible that all that information could be made available to the authorities.” The reality, Mr Schmidt, is that search engines other than Google don’t go anywhere near as far in violating our privacy and demanding our data to use their services.

Forgetting Obama, conservatism, and liberalism for a moment, it also troubles me that Google felt it necessary to pay homage to Russia by having a home page logos to commemorate the Sputnik, yet they felt no need to make such a tribute to America on Flag Day, unlike competitor Bing. Failing to recognize the country that made its success possible seems pretty ungrateful to me.

Don’t fuel the Google fire. Don’t give them the information they want. There are alternatives out there, and if you really want Google’s search results without dealing with Google, you can go to Scroogle.com and get just that. When it comes to Youtube, just watch the videos that are available to all users and don’t give them a pleasure of creating a Gmail account and logging in with it when you want to view an 18+ video or make a comment. We can live without those things. Besides, if you want porn, Youtube is the wrong place to be. Together we can all give Google the big “Fuck You” it deserves.

For those interested, I’m running a preservethe80s contest to see how long it takes for my site to get de-listed from Google over this article. Send your guesses to preservethe80s@yahoo.com
The winner will receive a signed photograph of me having lunch at Del Taco.

By the way, I hate Google.

A few nights ago I was bored and was watching Nightline, 20/20, or some other irrelevant piece of shit news program. One of the guests they had on the show was this self-righteous bitch (who will henceforth be referred to as “Mrs Rodupmyass”) from California who was in the process of organizing a lawsuit against McDonald’s because their Happy Meals “encourage unhealthy eating habits in [her] child”. Before I got the chance to yell at the tv and tell her that it’s her own damn job to say no to her kids and not a restaurant’s responsibility, the interviewer asked her something to the same effect. Her reply was, “I can say no, but that’s where the battle begins. Even if I do say no, she’ll still see all the commercials advertising the happy meal and think she has to have it.”
After hearing this remark, my blood began to boil. Battle? What fucking battle? When I was a kid and asked for something and my parents said no, that was the end of the discussion. There was no back and forth battle or negotiation. On the few times where I tried to do that, my parents made me sorely regret it and that’s what should still be done with kids today. Also, who cares if the kid sees a commercial and wants whatever is being shown? Does this mean that Mrs Rodupmyass buys her daughter every single thing targeted to children that’s advertised on tv? Your kids don’t have their own money. If they have something, that means you bought it for them. Somehow I doubt that any six year old has the ability to forcibly drag their parents into a car, force them to drive to McDonald’s, then force them to fork over the money and buy them a Happy Meal. If this unfit mother has a problem with McDonald’s food, then she should get off her ass and cook a meal herself instead of counting on somebody else to pick up the slack and raise her little monster.
This whole story becomes even more ludicrous when one considers the fact that McDonald’s now offers apple slices and water/milk in place of french fries or soda with a Happy Meal. Add that to one tiny hamburger or 4 Chicken McNuggets and you don’t have all that unhealthy of a meal. That’s not good enough for Mrs. Rodupmyass though. She feels that french fries and soda shouldn’t even be an option, because her daughter may ask for them and she can’t say no. It pisses me off enough that McDonald’s even has to offer the alternative Happy Meals, let alone the fact that Mrs Rodupmyass wants them to be the only choice. It’s not like the healthy foods being shoved at kids are making any kind of a difference. I was at McDonald’s last week and was in line behind a couple and their three kids who were all hyperactive and misbehaving. Their parents ordered the health nazi version of the Happy Meals for them, but it did little to quell their misbehavior or help their obviously low levels of intelligence. Two of the three kids were even running from the counter to the glass doors and ramming their heads into them, just for the hell of it. Not one scolding word came from the parents though, they just looked on as if to say “look our our precious little miracles and how beautifully they’re expressing themselves”
Parents like these are the reason this country is such a mess today and why the economy is tanking. Yes, shady banks, government blunders, and corrupt business practices also play a role, but let’s face it, we have to take some personal responsibility as well. If we don’t, we’re all just as bad as Mrs Rodupmyass. Nobody wants to do their job at work anymore if it’s not fun. Nobody wants to work in schools and colleges unless it’s a group project where they can just slack off. Nobody can wait for anything anymore or save up their money, they just want what they want when they want it and since their parents never taught them that this isn’t how the world works, they never learn this concept and make the same mistakes over and over again. This is only going to get worse once the youngest generation takes over because they’ve been spoiled and raised with these attitudes more than any other generation. The examples are countless. Similar to Mrs Rodupmyass was a professor I had in college who was having a class do a debate on fast food restaurants marketing toward children. I was the only student in the class to take the side of the fast food chains, raising the point that it’s up to parents and not restaurants to decide what kids eat. The rest of the class looked at me like I had three heads and was speaking in Chinese and the professor’s only reply was “Well, my generation just doesn’t feel comfortable saying no to our children.” Then there was this little brat I saw at Sears a little while back. She wanted some skirt and her mother wouldn’t buy it for her, so she hauled off and hit her. Then her mother softens up and says, “I’m sorry I was so hard on you honey, we can get it.” The kid didn’t even thank her, she just made a smirk of smug entitledness and took the skirt off the rack.
Seriously, with parents like this, what hope to kids today have of growing up to have any kind of character, self-discipline, or morals? Sooner or later, they’re going to have to learn the word no, whether it comes from their parents now or if it comes 20 years down the road when they want a double advance on their welfare checks.
The point I’m trying to make here is that if you want to have kids, then be willing to do the work of raising and disciplining them and don’t rely on other people and institutions, especially restaurants, to do it. McDonald’s may not have the healthiest of food, but it wasn’t designed with the idea that everyone would be eating there for every meal every day. It’s fine to eat that kind of food in moderation. The problems with your little brats don’t begin at McDonald’s, they begin at home and if you aren’t willing to accept that, then you should get a vasectomy/have your tubes tied and just to be on the safe side, never engage in coitus again without using at least eight condoms and three diaphragms.
To all you lazy and spoiled parents out there, I’ll repeat what I’ve said several times: Help control the dumbass population. Have your kids spayed or neutered.

Once again, a new year is upon us. Predictably enough, people everywhere are coming up with dumb-as-shit resolutions that they don’t intend to keep. Why delude yourself into thinking you’re going to do anything to improve yourself within the next 12 months when you know damn well that best you can hope for is to just slow down the decline? Living with oneself is always quite difficult to do, and New Year’s resolutions are just one of the many tools we come up with to try to make this task slightly easier even though we always fail miserably.
Depressed yet? You should be. The weight of the world is heavy on all of our shoulders and my goal through creating this little portal of misery on the Internet is to make the world’s shoulders droop just a little bit more. However, I’ll arm you with some impossible to fuck up resolutions for the new year so for once you can say that you’ve kept your resolutions. We can all give ourselves a pat on the back on December 31st after we’ve achieved the following goals.

1. Broaden your horizons by broadening your ass. Break out the Fritos and Haagen-Dazs and get to work.

2. Become more bitter and angry toward humanity and all that it represents.

3. Tell yourself you love/are attracted to whoever you happen to be banging even though you know it’s not true so that you can look yourself in the mirror with a little less shame. If you’re not banging anybody, just spend more time whacking off. If you’re impotent, just repeat goal #2 as needed.

4. Donate a nominal amount to some random charity you don’t care about then tell everyone you know that you did it. This one has the double bonus of letting you enjoy a bit of self-righteousness while at the same time inspiring more guilt and self hatred in your friends, family, and co-workers.

5. Devote your attention and spare time to watching/listening to unabashedly biased political programming then accuse everyone on the other side of the political spectrum of being brainwashed. If you’re a liberal, tell everyone how George Bush is ruining the world and reply to any opposing argument by screaming “Fox News”. If you’re a conservative, tell everyone how Barack Obama is ruining the world and reply to any opposing argument by screaming “CNN”.

6. Procrastinate on every responsibility you have.

7. Do something that you always criticize other people for doing.

8. Come up with at least one bullshit excuse for not doing something/not going somewhere every day.

9. Watch a movie and look for something to happen in the movie that isn’t realistic. Then spend the rest of the time bitching about it and ruin the movie watching experience for everyone else in the room.

10. Leave hair clogs in a tub you share with somebody else. If you live alone, go to a gym and do it.

11. Speaking of gyms, get a membership to one but never go. If you have to go, just work out for 5 minutes then brag about it for 5 hours.

12. Act like it’s a miracle when your bratty kid does something that pisses everyone else off.

13. Let any parent who fawns over their stupid baby know you think it’s the ugliest thing this side of Gary Busey.

14. If you’re a guy, no matter how many women you’ve had sex with within the past year, lie and say it was five times more. If you’re a woman, lie and say you’ve been with five times fewer men. Both sexes can milk the double standard on this one.

Chances are, you’ve already done every single one of these things already and it’s only January 5. If not, take heart as there are still 360 days remaining in this year. (In the eyes of banks, that’s still a whole year.) For once, you can feel the satisfaction that comes with actually holding true to your New Year’s resolutions. I’d keep writing, but I have to go now and get a little fatter and then lie about who I’ve been engaging in intercourse with. Good luck to you all.

SACRILEGE!

What the hell were they thinking? What in the name of Dave Thomas were these assholes thinking??? You don’t mess with a classic. You don’t fix what isn’t broken. You don’t desecrate that which is sacred… yet the powers that be at Wendy’s have done just that. After 41 beautiful, magical years, Wendy’s fries are gone. Dead. Departed.
Whether it be pressure from the health nazis or from the current blasphemous trend of trying to turn fast food restaurants into mock upscale eateries, Wendy’s R&D cracked (or maybe they’re just on crack) and pitched out our Earthly ambrosia for a product that I hesitate to even bestow with the honor of being called a variety of french fries. Arthur Shawcross must be spinning in his grave.
Wendy’s is a working man’s haven. It’s a retreat of the down to earth everyman/everywoman who values substance over style and delicious fare over conceited airs. We aren’t a crowd of people who want potato skin heavy fries with “sea salt”. The health nazis and food snobs of the world are not an open minded bunch. They aren’t just content to fritter away their food lives on inane bullshit and leave the rest of us to eat in peace and happiness. They won’t be happy until we’re all a bunch of miserable, emaciated assholes eating food with no flavor designed for an audience that isn’t watching.
Loyal readers of preserve the 80s I urge you, we must unite to fight this unjust french fry revolution. I want all of you to come together as one voice to let Wendy’s know we want our fries back. One and all must gather round their local Wendy’s in a silent and dignified vigil to demand justice. Send in pictures of your brave and valiant actions and they will see the light of day on preserve the 80s and on youtube as well. Together we will make our voices heard and reclaim what is ours.

This fall we were visited by an angel. Ok so maybe it wasn’t something supernatural, but it’s damn close. Of course, I am speaking of the McRib. Every once in a while, the powers that be decide to bring back this anti-suicide injection just when we need it most. The occasional appearance of the McRib is our reward for waking up and going out into the world every day, for grinding out the long work days, and for dealing with the stresses of money, health, and relationships. That’s right America, this Rib’s for you and you’ve earned it. The McRib is kind of like that favorite Uncle/Aunt or grandparent you had as a kid who lived far away but would come by once in a great while and fill your soul with joy. It is my wish that everyone in the world comes to know the McRib in more detail and truly appreciates the history and substance of what this gem of a sandwich truly is. I don’t want to give it all away right now, because I think the following video is the only thing that can even come within light years of doing the McRib proper justice:

I was a bit low on money so I only have one bacontaor here instead of the recommended two.

As promised, I temporarily renamed my site Preserve Los 80s. I was horribly shocked, saddened, and sickened to discover that this did not result in even one view or comment from a Latino audience. Mere words cannot describe how disappointed I am in myself. Why can’t I be more like NBC?

Or so NBC, the NFL, and the NBA would have you think.
I don’t know about everyone else, but I doubt that the recent trend of throwing random Spanish words and phrases into sports telecasts and onto team jerseys a few times each year is going to do much to attract Hispanic/Latino viewers. Some recent examples have included the New York Mets referring to themselves as, and wearing jerseys that said “Los Mets” for one day, “Futbol Americano” being painted on to the field at a recent Miami Dolphins game, or NBC showing the team locations in Spanish, but keeping the names in English before and after each commercial break. I don’t think any Spanish speaking resident of the USA is really going to feel validated by such a needless and empty gesture, nor would they get any more interest in the sport. If anything, they probably just wonder why NBC bothered to call the Dolphins as “Dolphins de Miami” instead of “Los Delfines de Miami”, which would be the correct Spanish phrasing. I suppose this is what happens when one high speed locomotive carrying inane political correctness and pseudo stealth racism hits another high speed locomotive carrying laziness.
Another thing that makes this so very unnecessary is the fact that most sports games are simulcast in Spanish. If Latinos aren’t watching the game, it’s usually not because of a language barrier. For argument’s sake, let’s forget about the simulcasts for a moment. Imagine a boardroom meeting where Latino viewership of the NFL is being discussed. As sad as it is, the conversation had to have gone something like this:
Board Chariman: “The Hispanic population in the United States is rising faster than any other demographic group. For some reason, the ratio of Hispanics watching the NFL is far below proportional to the percentage of population that they comprise. What could be going on?”

Dumbass #1: “Well, maybe they don’t understand what’s happening in the games”

Dumbass #2: “Maybe it’s a language problem”

Dumbass #3: “Maybe they think the NFL doesn’t care about them”

Board Chairman: “Right, but what can we do about it?”

Dumbass #4: (snaps fingers) “I’ve got it! Once every year, let’s have
‘Futbol Americano’ painted on the field and get the TV networks to show the team names in Spanish during their bumpers!”

Chairman: “Genius! That way not only will they know what sport they’re watching, but they’ll also know what teams are playing! Holy shit, we’re going to make Latinos love football even more than tacos!”

Dumbass #4: “Hey that’s kind of racist.”

Chairman:”Ok, we’ll make them love football even more than los tacos.”

Dumbass #4: “Much better! Now that’s tolerance!”

This whole thing makes me want to blast myself into space so I can escape the idiocy that is fast taking over the human race. Of course this isn’t just limited to football. Basketball and baseball are doing the same thing. Who doesn’t remember the Phoneix Suns calling themselves “Los Suns” for the last few games of the 09-10 NBA season in an effort to show the Mexican community they didn’t believe in Arizona’s proposed crackdown on illegal immigration? Regardless of how anyone might feel about the laws themselves, I can say with fairly strong degree of certainty that nobody cares about the ineffectual opinions that the management of a basketball franchise has on the matter. Especially when said basketball team is the one that has been in the league for the longest amount of time without winning a championship (42 years).
I guess the executives in the NFL, NBA, and MLB feel that just adding the Spanish word for “the” before a team name a few times a year and tossing in the Spanish name for a city every now and then will be all it takes to attract a demographic that doesn’t seem to be interested in what they’re putting out. Imagine you’ve just moved to Mexico, where soccer is a hugely popular sport and is widely covered by the media. If you’re like most Americans, you don’t have a huge interest in professional soccer. Now suppose that the team nearest to where you live is called “Los Toros” (The Bulls). Do you think that if for one night a year they called themselves “The Toros” and had the word “Soccer” painted on the field it would suddenly make you a huge fan of the sport? If you do, please punch yourself in the genitals.
Now I’m a reasonable man. I know I’m not always right about everything. Maybe this there is something to this movement after all. For the rest of tonight and all of tomorrow, I’m going to try to show my support for Hispanics by calling my site PreserveLos80s. If it doesn’t result in at least 500 hits and comments from Latinos, I will be horribly shocked and bitterly disappointed.

For some reason whenever I’m around, fucked up things tend to happen. Unfortunately for me, many of these things consist of rather revolting events surrounding various foods which render me unable to eat said foods ever again. I shall relate to you some of these sad tales and maybe in the process ruin some foods for you as well.

Peanut Butter – This one takes place on the fateful day of May 30, 2006. It was actually about 3 hours earlier on the same day as an unpleasant flight I mentioned in a previous post. I was on a layover at the Minneapolis/St Paul Airport and it was around lunchtime. I was looking around for a place to eat but the food court in the terminal I was in was quite crowded. It had a section in which most of the tables were two seaters with one high seat on each side. I was unable to find a table that was completely empty, so I settled on one where I was across from a corpulent fellow who was suffering from rather severe acne. He was dining on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, chewing with his mouth wide open and smacking quite loudly. I cannot verbally express how severe the smacking was. Even in the rich history of Three Stooges films there has never been sounds of smacking this highly audible. At one point during my meal (which was a fish sandwich, not that anyone cares) I happened to look up. This motion is one that I would soon come to regret for the rest of my life. My eyes instantly met with the image of the tubby bloke’s mouth wide open with thick strings of peanut butter colored phlegm going up and down between his teeth. I nearly vomited on the spot, though I managed to get to the bathroom where I had dry heaves for a bit, but no actual vomiting occurred. Vomit or no, peanut butter was forever ruined.

Bologna Sandwiches – I never much liked these to begin with, but after a convalescent home experience in  the summer of 1993, they have become completely inedible for me. It was a hot, balmy day and the convalescent home didn’t have the best air conditioning going. Everyone was hot, sweaty and miserable. Either through pure luck or clever planning by the staff, the meal being served that late afternoon/early evening was bologna sandwiches, so at least the ovens wouldn’t be running and making the place even hotter. My gratitude for this did not last long though. The sandwiches were consumed without any significant events occurring around them. The trouble began shortly after when my grandmother’s room mate decided to go to bed early. Before going to bed, she took her dentures and put them in a glass to soak. Shortly before leaving for the night, I went into the bathroom and happened to see the aforementioned jar. My grandmother’s room mate had not taken great pains to clean her dentures before soaking them. In the glass with the dentures were several bloated and stringy fragments of wet bologna, bread, and what I think might have been cheese. Some was wedged into the dentures themselves and some was floating around near the top. To this day I cannot even hear the word bologna without getting ill.

Milk- Milk is disgusting and revolting in and of itself. You shouldn’t need any jarring experience to make you not want to drink it. Don’t drink/buy/sell/rent/steal/ pour/ touch it. Ever.

Oregano – This is another convalescent home one, but oddly enough it was not a real live event, but rather a dream I had around 1991 or so. In the dream, I was in the former Deep River Convalescent Home. That’s right – the 77+1 Deep River Convalescent Home. In the dream, I walked down the dingy main hall of the convalescent home and saw a really unappetizing looking pizza sitting on a pedestal in an alcove. The pizza smelled very strongly of oregano and as I got closer to it, I could see that it had a layer of oregano over it about 3 inches thick. As I looked around the building, I saw bits of oregano everywhere on the ground and I started walking away. I suddenly looked to my right and saw an old guy on a chair in the hallway with Aqua Fresh Toothpaste leaking from his eyes. I didn’t see the actual toothpaste tube, but I’m guessing it had to be Aqua Fresh as no other toothpaste during that time period had the green/white/red color scheme.

Any of the egg sandwiches at Dunkin Donuts – Since my place of work doesn’t really have a bathroom, I typically use the one at the Dunkin Donuts which is about a mile down the road from it. On one such visit, I went into the bathroom, only to find an elaborate fecal mess all over the floor with a stench which even 1000 dead, rotting monkeys using 1000 typewriters made of crotch lint  could not begin to describe, though it had a strong egg component to it. The same is true for the visual make up of it. I darted out of the bathroom as fast as I could, but could not get the smell off myself for the rest of the day, despite taking 3 showers.

That’s all I can type on this subject for now, as I do eventually want to be able to eat again. Happy vomiting.

Many of you may not know who Slappy White is, but let me assure you that after Watson Nuhn, he is the greatest comedian of all time. While he may not be all that relevant to the 80s, he still deserves a song and a shout. He does have a page on Wikipedia, but the admins on there took down the quote section, which was the best part. One can’t help but both pity and hate Wikipedia administrators. They’re the only people on Earth more pathetic than I am. They just sit around all day with their thumbs up their asses nitpicking and undoing other people’s contributions. Enough about them though, they have no place in a Slappy White tribute. Without any further ado, I will now post Mr White’s greatest quotes.

“… and so the black man said to God… Lord why is my skin this dark?” “… and the Lord replied My Son, it is so that the intense sun in Africa will not burn you” “… and then he said Lord, why is my head covered with large mass of kinky hair?” “… and the Lord replied My Son that is so that the mosquitoes and other insects in Africa cannot bite your head” “… so this Black dude says … Then God, why am I in Detroit?”

“I went into a new barbershop in my neighborhood and told the brother, “Give me that Afro look”. Well, I fell asleep in the chair. And when I woke up, I had a bone in my booty.”

“I’ve heard people call mayonnaise all kinds of different things. The white folks like to call it “mayo” and black folks call it “slopple slather”. Let’s just agree to disagree and call it NAISE!”

“One morning I went into a diner for breakfast and ordered some pancakes. The waitress asked me if I wanted Jiffy Mix pancakes or Bisquick pancakes. I said ‘I’m black fool! I want the Jiffy Mix!’”

“Once on an island there was a strawberry, and apple, and an orange. They saw a genie and the genie said that each one could have a wish granted. The apple wished to get off the island, the orange wished for a new car, and the strawberry wished for some damn booty!”

“Hey you with the pompadour! Down in front!”

“You know back in the 40s, a brother couldn’t always get into a classy strip joint. Sometimes, we just had to peel our bananas and throw pennies at them!”

“You know what? There’s an owl outside my house that hoots all night. An owl! I ain’t been gettin’ any sleep for days. Tomorrow night I’m going to moon it. I bet it won’t hoot no more!”

“Wake up, go to sleep, wake up, go to sleep, wake up, go to sleep, that’s the daily grind!”

“What I like about blue jeans… is the fact that they’re simple. You put them on, you take them off, put ‘em back on. There’s not room for much confusion!”

“Three things I can’t live without – jail, bail, and ginger ale!”

I’m beginning to think it just might be. It seems as though every day the asshole population among us grows exponentially and I come across more and more beings who are nothing less than completely intolerable. If you disagree, read on and you’ll get my point. Here are a few of the reasons why as a species, we need to just throw in the towel.

People who say “We’re pregnant” – Just typing “We’re pregnant” nearly gave me a stroke. Here’s a quick biology lesson. Females can get pregnant. Males cannot. Only one person at a time is capable of carrying any given fetus. Multiple people can not be pregnant with the same bundle of future semantic abusing asshole at the same time. For fuck’s sake I hate people who utter this phrase. Anyone caught saying it should be clubbed until unconscious and then sterilized in the most efficient manner possible. On second thought, just club them but don’t knock them out. Being unconscious for their sterilization would be too good for them. They should also find some way to slip the fetus a cyanide tablet because if it has any sense, it won’t want to go through life having sprung from such a genetic cesspool.

People who honk their horns at you when you’re fully immobilized in traffic – Ever get held up by construction or in any other kind of traffic jam and get completely locked in? It happens to the best of us. It also happens to the worst of us. I witnessed the latter just yesterday morning while stuck in traffic in New London. There were vehicles surrounding me in every direction and traffic was at a standstill. Despite the fact that there was absolutely nowhere I could go, some raging bitch in the lane next to me was blaring her horn at me, screaming what I assume were obsenities, and wildly gesticulating in a manner befitting a simean tourette’s syndrome sufferer. When I looked away, she began revving her engine ineffectually. She kind of reminded me of a female version of Colonel Sanders, only she didn’t have a white Kentucky Colonel suit, van dyke, fried chicken franchise, or any of the Colonel’s general badassery. Come to think of it, I guess she wasn’t that much like Colonel Sanders, but some loose association brought him to mind. Getting back to the point, you’re pretty much a pile of shit if you somehow expect someone to be able to, and throw a tantrum when they do not, defy the laws of physics and just race through a solid wall of automobiles which surrounds you in all directions.

Enviro-Nazis – They’re not as bad as health nazis, but they’re still a gargantuan pain in the ass. Caring for the environment is all well and good, but there’s a difference between being responsible and having a mile long rod of self-righteousness permanently jammed up your ass. If I want to buy paper plates or a set of plastic utensils, I’m going to do it. A few years back I was reamed out by some enviro-nazi for doing just that. He was a filthy looking creature, with greasy matted hair, crooked teeth, and a ratdog t-shirt. He peered at me through glassed over eyes and his roundish John Lennon style glasses for a moment and then proceeded to tell me I was living for myself and killing the world. His tirade came to an ubrupt end however when I asked him from what eco-friendly material the plastic beads he had around his neck were made of.

Whoever it was that designed those hotelplanner.com commercials – Whoever you are, there’s a special place reserved for you in hell.

The author and purchasers of the Eat this, Not That Series – This one says it all. Not only is there some asshole out there continually shitting all over all things delicious and basically ordering us how to dine, but he actually has a following of devoted fans. It boggles the mind. Instead of being locked up somewhere, this motherfucker of a bastard of a cocksucking douchebag is being rewarded for his exploits. He is the number one reason why I will soon have to buy either tranquilizer darts or a defibrillator.

This post is getting me too agitated. Time to go upstairs for some bacon wrapped waffles to put out this fire.