I smell a God-Humper…

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Oh shizz…Alaska is a refuge state for the Apocalypse…*makes note*

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Seriously, this lady is a wingnut.

Were I a superhero vigilante, this beast would be my sidekick.

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The video reminds me of Roger from the Tekken series.

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Perhaps the greatest, manliest, John Wayne-type true grit site I’ve ever seen on the internet: mredepot.com. Selling non-perishable food and supplies for the survivalist, in the event of of disaster, the coming of Armageddon, camping, or for those who are just plain batshit-crazy (like myself).

They carry everything from ready-to-eat bacon in a can (I repeat with emphasis: MOTHERFUCKING BACON IN A MOTHERFUCKING CAN!!!) to collapsible batons, pepper spray, portable toilets and gas-powered generators. Everything you need to ride out the end of the world in style.

It’s a one-stop shopping mecca. You’ve got whole chickens in a can, some dehydrated pork chops (mmm…*drool*), cases of beef in gravy and for dessert, some canned cake and several choices of pudding! It’s a redneck recipe for utter fucking success!

GAAAAAHH!!! I must order!!! I must kill!!! I must dig a hole, eat some bacon and ride the shit out!!!

In the name of all things holy and true… I really fucking need one of these bastards:

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One could argue that living in Brooklyn, I hardly need one of these bad boys. I beg to differ. A paintball sentry makes you awesome. It makes any place instantly badass. It’s a necessary addition to any paranoid’s household.

My body feeds 10. I need to gain more weight!

Henry Miller is totally the man I hope to be (plus a little Larry David), when I’m a geezer. Miller has balls. he’s a man’s man. The kind of strange, old dude you down beers with and listen to horrible, debauched tales from, while killing time in a bar. This will be me. It’s gotta happen.

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I’ve always been an armchair (more like beanbag, really) astronomy freak. That said,I’m totally blown away by this excellent shot of a sunset from the surface of Mars, taken by Nasa’s Spirit rover in 2005, but coming to my attention just a couple days ago. I love Mars. I love space. I love inhumanity.

Here’s my favorite Mars image site (RSS feed). It’s a badass feed to have in your RSS aggregator

Way to blow 80K, you fucking hillbilly morons. Cheers, you inbreeding, sheet-wearing idiots!

Perhaps the dumbest web service I’ve seen in a while, youvebeenleftbehind.com, will send emails to the friends and relatives (up to 62 addresses) of devout Christians, after the Jesus-Freak has been whisked to heaven via the Rapture—all for just $40 bucks a year. I mean, what price is worth the ability to thumb your nose and gloat at all those damned heathens, right?

That’s not all! The site also provides 250 MB of storage, 150 of which can be “encrypted” (there’s zero information on what exactly they mean by this or what method is used), so you can upload those important documents that you want to pass on to your loved ones.

The site suggests storing sensitive passwords, banking, brokerage information, locations of hidden valuables, and power of attorney documents. Their reasoning? You won’t need it, you’re in heaven! You can either give them your entire financial life to “hold” and keep “safe” for your loved ones, or risk the Antichrist getting it all. (I’m feeling like an opposing site, for donations to the Antichrist needs to be built, right now.)

Why entrust them all your information, you may ask? Simple, they say. Because they’re Christians. That should be all the credentials you’re average God-fearing, bible-humping idiot should ever need. Never mind that their contact info consists solely of a PO Box and a Gmail address. The domain registrar is a proxy, giving jack-shit for info as to who your money or your private financial information is going to. But hey, they’re Christians, it’s all good!

<sarcasm>This seems too good to be true! How do I know my information and messages will be delivered once I’m strumming a harp in heaven? Didn’t they say they were all Christian too? That means they’ll be in heaven with me! It’s so confusing, my head hurts! I better have an exorcism!</sarcasm>

Actually, according to these true believing heroes, there are five Christian people, scattered around the United States who must check in to the system on a regular basis. Should any three of these God-loving people fail to log-in over a three day period (presumably because they are now in heaven, not jail, mind you), the system will be triggered. An additional three days will be given as a failsafe and then like mana from heaven, all your important stuff will be delivered to the people you care most about on earth.

On one hand, it stinks to high hell of a total sucker scam. People who pay for this service are not only going to be $40 poorer, they’re likely to have their identities stolen and have their money cleaned out, pre-Rapture.

On the other hand, I’m all about abusing Christians.

Yet again, I have sustained injury due to the prolific use of my BlackBerry and moderate addiction to Twitter. As detailed in an earlier post, I had a slight slip-up while composing a tweet on some stairs that resulted in a bitch of a sprained ankle. You would think I’d have limped away with some kind of lesson learned and perhaps seared into my gray matter á la Pavlovian response. Nope.

Last night, fresh of the subway, a bit drunk and walking the home stretch to my building, I whipped out my trusted BlackBerry and let my thumbs start tapping away a tweet, all without breaking stride. Head down and absorbed in the glow of the screen, I walked head-first into a steel pole. Nice, right?

I struck the pole with a fair amount of momentum, though whether it be by virtue of the alcohol in my system or the fact that I have a rather hard head, I didn’t really feel much pain, nor did I knock my ass out cold.

Unfortunately, there were a fair amount of witnesses, but I managed to quickly recover and continue as if I had not just completely pulled a “dumb drunk walking” moment. The whole episode was a matter of seconds.

However, this morning my forehead has been graced with quite a nicely-sized and tender lump. I’m sure that in 24-48 hours it will be gone, but until then, it serves as a reminder of the dangers of tweeting while walking in even a mild state of inebriation. At some point (I swear), there will come a time where I will have learned my lessons concerning BlackBerries and perambulation.