panic attacks
The C.O.B.R.A. Retrieval System
A deadly cobra is missing from the Bronx Zoo and you’re the only one who can find it! This is not a choose your own adventure book, but if it was, here are your options – on page 72 you find the cobra, battle it, and the cobra rues the day it ever attempted to escape. On page 153 it kills you and cobras take over the fucking world. That’s it! It’s a pretty lengthy book considering there are only two possible outcomes, but these are the stakes when fighting deadly snakes. Thankfully, there is a foolproof system in place to ensure your victory over the snake kingdom phylum class subgenre, outlined by this simple acrostic:
The C.O.B.R.A. Retrieval System
C – Consider your options.
O – Observe the area.
B – Bite back.
R – Repeat the previous step.
A – (call an) Ambulance.
Let’s “break it down” ala Stop, Hammer Times:
GOOD MORNING!
C – Consider your options. Look, maybe the snake isn’t really missing ok? I swear to god he was here a minute ago… no, you know what, he’s right ther- no, shit that’s a leaf. OK OK OK, think think think, he doesn’t have any legs so he probably didn’t get very far, right? I am so screwed. I am SO SCREWED. Let me retrace my steps – ok I was in the closet getting the snake chow, then I opened the tank to drop in the snake chow, then my phone rang, and I dropped it into the tank and then… oh shit my phone’s gone too! Are you kidding me? Are you fucking serious right now? If that snake took my phone I am going to be so pissed. DO YOU HEAR ME SNAKE?! SO. PISSED.
O – Observe the area. By this point, you’re fairly certain that the cobra is on the loose, possibly with an iPhone 3GS. You’re like 60% positive it didn’t leave the reptile house because it’s unseasonably cold in the Bronx right now, so you round up some of your buddies to secure the perimeter. Because that sounds pretty awesome, and what friend wouldn’t be like HELL YEAH if you asked them to secure a perimeter? No friend wouldn’t do that. At this point, we’re going to make a fairly huge assumption for the sake of the acrostic – you found the snake, and armed with a butterfly net and a hammer, you’ve got that sonofabitch cornered.
B – Bite back. And of course the thing bites you. You tell your friends to abandon their perimeter posts and run for their lives and then you assess the situation. You’ve got about ten minutes before you lose sensation in your limbs, so it’s time to act with your most important limb – your mouth. BITE IT BACK! You’ve got the venom inside you now, and cobras are deathly allergic to cobra venom. The venom is going to be dripping out of your canine teeth, but just to be safe, just get as much of the cobra into your mouth as possible and with a chewing motion, chew the shit out of the snake’s head. Really get in there like RARRRGHHHH. The venom in your system will act as an anti-venom in case the thing gets smart and tries to bite you again while it’s inside your mouth.
R- Repeat the previous step. Things are going to stop making sense around the sixth minute of your attack. The skin around the bite will be reaching an advanced stage of necrosis, and while your lungs will still be functioning, they’re going to feel both on fire and flooded with a cold inexplicable liquid. The earth will be spinning faster than ever before and the faces of your loved ones will pass before your lifeless, vacant eyes, all hissing and flicking their tongues at you. Embracing death’s warm embrace will feel like your number one priority right now. This is totally normal, but NOT an excuse to stop. Continue biting until you reach bone.
A – (call an) Ambulance. If you’ve followed the C.O.B.R.A. Retrieval System to the letter, the escaped cobra will be subdued and looking groggy. You’ve saved the day and, wait a second, your phone was in your pocket this whole time! You mistook it for a tin of Altoids. With your last remaining seconds of consciousness, it’s time to call an ambulance. When they ask for your name, reply (your name), Cobra Commander. They’ll handle the rest. The cobra, embarrassed and stupid, will crawl back into its tank, close the lid and rue the day it ever attempted to escape in the first place. Rue the day, sweet cobra. Rue the day. Sweet cobra.
Other sites would use this final paragraph to drop a disclaimer, like, this information is for entertainment purposes only, and any living, fictional or dead cobras will probably kill you if you perform any of the actions above. But not here. I stand by the C.O.B.R.A. Retrieval System 100%, and I guarantee that you’ll successfully find, fight and fucking decimate any cobra that you see by following this scientifically proven system. Did you know that if you pay a snake wrangler enough money, they’ll say literally anything you put in front of them? Just ask snake wrangler and world’s leading cobra puncher Jeffrey Trombonés, who says, “C.O.B.R.A. R.O.C.K.S. (Readily Obliterates Cobra King of Snakes) dude!” Seriously ask yourself, why would Jeffrey put his exceedingly awesome name and reputation on the line?
Santa Claus Conquers the Elians (like Gonzalez)
Can you believe that it’s 2010 and little kids still believe in Santa Claus? This came to me as I was running through the mall the other day, trying desperately to return a shirt without looking at anyone or saying more words than, “Don’t want, you give money.†There, in front of Victoria’s Secret and a kiosk that sells nothing but remote controlled helicopters, was Santa. And in front of Santa was a long line of rosy-cheeked cherubs and their nervous parents, hoping that if they focus their brain power hard enough their child won’t have a reality-bending panic attack before their picture is taken. Meanwhile, I’m having my own reality-bending panic attack in line at Old Navy because everyone in front of me is attempting to buy something without a price tag on it. It’s Old Navy. Whatever it is, just assume it’s $6.99 and LET’S GO GO GO.
Yes predictive Google image search, I was searching for images of Santander.
In a world where kids have access to the internet, how can Santa still exist? And I’m not talking about that “ooh the glorious spirit of St. Nickleclaus that lives inside each and every one of us†bullshit. I mean, the concept of a man entering your house in the middle of the night, depositing toys and videogames on your living room floor (for free), and then leaving before your parents have the opportunity to either call the police or beat him to death with a yule log. It doesn’t add up! And I guess that’s where the magic and wonder of Christmas comes in, but I was a pretty jaded kid. If the internet existed when I was 6 (shut up, I know it existed you nerds), chances are pretty good that my parents would find a history trail of hastily spelled Google searches and cross-referenced Wikipedia articles proving that what Keith Malcolm said at recess was true – Guns N’ Roses are the best band ever, and Santa Claus isn’t real.
So kids still believe in him; does that mean mall Santas with real beards are still a thing? When a mall Santa has a real beard it’s a sign of authenticity – this man is serious about spreading holiday cheer. The same cannot be said for mall Santas that are 350 pounds and constantly talking to children during the off season. “Ho-ho-ho, it’s August and now my sleigh is this van, boys and girls! It’s like a workshop on wheels, filled with hobby horses and jack-in-the-boxes and eight tiny reindeer or whatever… don’t tell your parents that we’re friends, ok boys and girls? HO-HO-OH GOD MY HEART!†It’s funny because he’s fat and there’s implied child rape.
So, ‘tis the season, I guess. My favorite Christmas tradition is when my father pulls me aside and apologizes for lying to me about the existence of Santa Claus. Every year, without fail. And this is going back, like, more than 20 years now. I’m leaving out cookies for Santa and carrots for Rudolph and my father’s stomach is just knotted with guilt… I’m lying to my son in the name of commercialism! ARGH FUCKING CHRISTMAS I HATE IT! My poor father. I was pretty ok with the whole Santa isn’t real thing once I realized that I could still ask for Star Wars figures and Nintendo games and get them. But not the Lego Monorail, because it was like $150,000.
TMJ more like TMA-OK
Hate you Tony Hawk and your love of grinding.
I avoided seeing a dentist for about three years for a few reasons. First, I always seemed to get the hygienist that could turn a routine cleaning into a homicidal bloodbath. “YOU HAVE WEAK GUMS!†she would scream over the whirring of the steam-powered water blade that removed the plaque-filled chunks between my teeth. Geysers of blood erupting from mouth, splashing off her face mask and dripping back down on me as she asks me if I believe in the word of God. “You’re brushing too hard!†scrape scrape scrape “You’re not flossing hard enough!†poke poke poke “Are you using toothpaste or baby diarrhea? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?†Then the dentist would come in, look at my mouth for three seconds and say how fantastic it looks and send me on my way with a plastic baggie full of travel-sized oral cleansers that I clearly had no idea how to use. “Have a great day!†said the dentist, while the hygienist is over her shoulder, mouthing the words, “I am going to fucking kill you,†with a dental pick held up to her head like a pistol.
So that’s one reason. The second reason is that they stopped taking my insurance, so I took it as a sign that I should find a new dentist. That never happened because I’m an incredibly busy, fancy man. Long story short, three years later my teeth start to hurt so I find a new dentist, lose considerably less blood during my cleaning, and all is well. UNTIL DOT DOT DOT
Dentist: So it looks like you’ve been grinding your teeth. Do you think it’s while you sleep, or…?
Me: Hmm, I’m not sure (grind grind grind) what you’re talking (CLAMP) about.
Dentist: You’re grinding them right now.
Me: No, this is just that thing that everyone does. Y’know like when you lock up your muscles and your jaw clamps shut and your hatred for life disappears for –
Dentist: …
Me: – a few seconds? Y’know that thing?
Dentist: That’s not a thing.
Me: Oh, right. Actually I meant that other thing where you bite down on your teeth really hard because it’s the only thing that makes sense in the world. That’s totally what I meaNT AH HA HA HA OH MY GOD IT HURTS SO (GRIND CLAMP CRUNCH) FUCKING GOOD!
There’s nothing like hearing from a medical professional that something you absentmindedly do every day is incredibly bad for you. She dunked my head into the spit sink next to me and I regained my composure. I’m now scheduled for a mouth guard fitting to protect my fragile teeth from myself while I sleep, and this is not embarrassing at all! Two of my heroes, Rocky Balboa and Lil’ Wayne both use mouth guards, and they don’t take shit from anyone. I encourage you to enjoy a generous helping of our Cadillac greels. In the meantime, I’m learning to recognize my grinding triggers, and so far I’ve got waking up, making coffee, driving to work, sitting at my desk, reading the news, drinking coffee, working, driving home, playing Halo, watching television, updating my blog, preparing myself for sleep, saying my prayers and sleeping. I’ve also come up with some good alternatives – now every time I feel like grinding my teeth, I just chew on a ball of tin foil, smack myself in the head and scream, “SO STUPID,†over and over until the urge passes. Which, after a few hours, it usually does.
Is it April Fool’s or April Fools’ or Apri’l Fools?
Well it’s April 2nd, and once again I’m left questioning what’s real and what isn’t on the internet. Why do webmasters and webmistresses find it so funny to like, write everything backwards or remove vowels from their site on April Fools’ Day? Oh ho ho, I was expecting one thing, but I got something completely different… I’ve been APRIL FOOL HORNSWAGGLED.
Here are some stories and links that tripped me up yesterday.
You guys win, I'm sufficiently fooled.
Cypress Hill Debut “Rise Up” Video Online. Â This one nearly got me until I realized that Cypress Hill* hasn’t put out an album since 1993, and… oh wait, they did? Â They’ve released six albums since then? Â And a new one is coming out this year? Â Well then this is an even more successful prank, because there’s no way this song is real. Â To really drive the prankiness home, they even hired Tom Morello to “Tom Morello it up” all over this fake track instead of just releasing a new video for “Ain’t Goin’ Out Like That,” which is all Cypress Hill should be doing until the end of time.
Boil water advisory remains in effect for Jersey City until tests prove water is safe to drink. Â Haha, the water is never safe to drink here. Â Nice try Jersey City!
The A-Team Trailer #2. Â Again, I admire the production values that went into this prank. Â It’s got Qui Gon, shirtless Bradley Cooper and a bunch of other dudes blowing shit up, just like the real A-Team from the early 60’s television program. Â This appears to be a follow-up to the cinematic G.I. Joe prank that was released in theaters last year… and really, hats off to the masterminds behind that one. Â You guys are good. Â But yeah, sorry to get your hopes up A-Team fans, but this simply isn’t happening in 2010.
(* Note for my younger readers: Cypress Hill was one of (if not the most) successful Latino rap groups in the early 90’s. Â With such hits as Insane in the Brain, How I Could Just Kill a Man, and I Ain’t Goin’ Out Like That, the group was very popular among dudes in backwards baseball hats, weed smokers, and weed smoking dudes in backwards baseball hats. Â Tom Morello was the guitar player for Rage Against the Machine. Â “The Machine” is the American government.)