Muscular Tommy Pickles From Rugrats Looks Strikingly Like Ralf Scheepers From Primal Fear.

Muscular Tommy Pickles:

Ralf Scheepers:

Hold Your Fucking Phone in Fucking Landscape

Hold your fucking phone horizontally if you're going to record a fucking video on it!

From a Gizmodo article telling you the same thing. But you didn't listen. What the fuck is wrong with you?

So you want to take a cellphone video of something with the intention of posting it to YouTube or whatever. If you hold your phone vertically, you should be sterilized for the sake of humanity and probably have your teeth removed. How do you function?

The standard HD video size is 1920x1080 pixels. Your phone will record in this no matter what orientation your clammy hand has positioned the phone in. If you hold it vertically, what happens when you want to watch it on anything that's not your phone? Black boxes. Black boxes that would be filled with glorious HD video had you held your phone correctly, you fucking idiot.

Your video will now play back on any screen that's not your phone as a 1080x608 pixel video with darkness filling up the missing space. Since you're too fucking stupid to hold a phone sideways, I feel the need to explain to you that 1080x608 is smaller than 1920x1080. Congratulations. You have wasted about two-thirds of the available display while using the same amount of memory on your phone. You are why we can't have nice things. Way to ruin it for everybody.

Google's camera app (pictured) even gently suggests to you that you should rotate your phone. It should refuse to record videos if your phone is wrong. Or better yet, administer electric shocks and deport your loved ones.

I say we round up all the portrait mobile phone video people and march them into the sea.

Bobby Flay is a Total Douchebag

I've said it for years. Bobby Flay is a douchebag. Fuck him. Fuck his shows.

Bobby Flay mixing a cocktail with roofies in it. Total douchebag.

Bobby Flay is a high school dropout who took up Southwestern cuisine as his specialty. That's right, Southwestern, the easiest of all cuisines because nothing fucking grows in the desert. It's all 5 ingredients. The same 5 ingredients. Big fucking accomplishment mastering Southwestern cuisine, you douchebag.

So he gets involved with the Food Network. Oh shit you have to be a skilled chef to get a cooking show right? Not if you're Bobby Flay. His cooking show is all about grilling. Yep, the easiest cooking method there is. Just throw shit on the grill and maybe turn it once while drinking your beer. Done. You're a grillmaster.

But then suddenly Bobby Flay became Master of Everything Ever. Between Throwdown! with Bobby Flay and Beat Bobby Flay, he is determined to beat you at your life's work. He swoops into town, goes to a local joint that is supposed to be the best at something, then decided the owner is shit and he can beat them with no effort at the thing they've spent their entire career doing. Fuck you, Bobby Flay. That is a tremendously douchebag concept for a show or two.

Ever been to Bobby's Douchbag Burger Palace? He's so much of a douchebag, there is no vegetarian option. Even Five Guys will make you a grilled cheese (i. e. a burger without the meat). But no, fuck you if you don't eat meat. Have a salad, that's all you eat anyway.

Fuck Bobby Flay.

Weird Forks

There are too many damn forks out there.

Asparagus Fork

Beef fork

Berry fork

Carving fork

Cheese fork

Chip fork

Cocktail fork

Cold meat fork

Crab fork

Dessert fork (alternatively, pudding fork/cake fork in Great Britain)

Dinner fork

Fish fork

Fondue fork

Fruit salad fork

Ice cream fork

Lobster fork

Lunch fork

Meat fork

Obvious pun fork

Olive fork

Oyster/Shrimp fork

Pastry fork

Pickle fork

Pie fork

Pitchfork

Relish fork

Salad fork

Seafood fork

Spork

Tea fork

Toasting fork

Asshole fork

10 Things We Should Do To Clickbait Headline Writers (You Won't Believe #7. And #9 Made Me Cry)

1. Round them all up. This won't be hard. They are the definition of lazy.

2. Begin the march. It's exceedingly easy to write article like this because you don't need to worry about flow. It's just numbers and maybe a blurb and a photo.

3. Break the ankles of those at the front. If you're BuzzFeed, you don't even have to worry about whatever the title of the article was when you're adding things to the list.

4. Whip those in back. If you've clicked on the link, their job is done. It doesn't matter what the page says.

5. Force them onto the boat. Any time I see an headline like this on Facebook, that's the end of our friendship.

6. Deposit them on an island with no food source. The occasional times I see someone posting a link to this type of shit and I don't unfriend them, I will subvert the headline's intent if I am able to. "You won't believe what this dog did to these children! (It made me cry!)"

7. Introduce leprosy to the island. Simply Google whatever the fuck it is, find an image, and post it as a comment.

8. Film their eventual demise. So now, no one has to click on the article. No one clicks the link.

9. Show the footage to their families. Hopefully it all goes away. The point of this shit is to make you click on the link. It's content farming. Don't click the links.

10. Write their eulogies in the format they perpetuated. The authors should be shamed and the websites shouldn't be patronized. But of course it's becoming more and more prevalent because everyone is a fucking moron and clicks on the links anyway.

Review: Taco Bell's Breakfast Crunchwrap Supreme

My Taco Bell is about 30% as clean-looking as this one.

No, I don't know what compelled me to forego edible breakfast-type food and instead go to Taco Bell, but should the same phenomenon happen to you, you should know what you're in for.

First of all, walking into a Taco Bell at 7:30AM feels like those scenes in The Walking Dead where they are scavenging for supplies by going into a long-deserted store. It's silent, but there are definitely unseen, unheard zombies lurking in the back.

Taco Bell is eerily quiet in the mornings. No other people were in the, ahem, dining room other than myself. There did not appear to be anyone in the back cooking, either. It was just empty. There was a guy pulled up to the Drive Thru window with a dead, blank look in his eye. Has he been gassed? Is the Taco Bell crew tied up in the back somewhere, disemboweled by a late night customer because they forgot to change the Baja Blast syrup?

At this point, I admitted to myself this was a mistake. Taco Bell for breakfast. And I wasn't even hungover.

As I turned to leave, an employee appeared and said she'd be right with me. Well now if I leave, things will just be awkward. And I will still be hungry. So I order. "A.M. Crunchwrap with Bacon." How far have we sunken as a society that this is something one human can say to another human?

Other employees have appeared, but the cashier is the one to fold breakfast food into a tortilla for me. It was shaped like a hexagonal football. It definitely looked Crunchwrap-ish, though. Just lopsided. Food in bag in hand, I disappeared into the night morning.

The regular (P.M.?) Crunchwrap was designed to be eaten one-handed in the car, so that is naturally what I did with my A.M. Crunchwrap. Functionally, it was a success.

Photo by Mike Mozart. He knows my pain. By why on earth did he get the sausage one? There was a bacon one, dude!

Inside this thing, there is a hashbrown, eggs, crumbled bacon, cheese, and some tasty orangish flavorgoo. The pocket of unmelted shredded cheese in the corner was an unwelcome surprise. The hashbrown had probably been warm at one point this morning. Bacon is tasty. I need to buy myself some orangeish flavorgoo at the grocery store. I finished it off in a couple miles. It was fine. It was exactly what I expected it to be: depressing.

Then it begins. Your body know what you did. You went to Taco Bell. Worse, you went to Taco Bell in the morning. And you aren't even hungover. Approximately 20 minutes after finishing the Crunchwrap, the nausea sets in. Not real nausea, though. You know real nausea. This was the "something's not right" feeling where you think you're going to throw up, but this isn't what it feels like right before you throw up. It's fake nausea.

Further down the system, there are rumblings. How is this possible? It's been a half hour! Food can't travel that fast! Maybe your colon knows it's got a lot of work to do soon, so we'd better clear some space. The next 20 minutes were ones I wish I had back. But afterwards, I was strangely satisfied. Like a good sneeze.

The quasi-nausea still remains. And I don't even feel like having a second breakfast this morning like I usually do. There are still rumblings somehow. I'm empty inside as far as I can tell. I fear the next 24 hours as my moment of weakness this morning causes my digestive tract to continue to become a shadow of its former self.

Overall I give it a 7/10.