The Definitive Act of the Twenty-First Century

For Realz.

And that is: notquoting Tionna Smalls.” Although that’s a close runner-up. No; no indeed, the definitive act of the Twenty-First Century is, naturally, something that first surfaced on YouTube. Because you, the reader, are so finely attuned to nuance and Zeitgeist and other foreign-sounding words, you are reading it here before it registers on the consciousness of the tastemakers at Gawker Media, the Times, or CBC. Ahead of the curve, in front of the pack, on the top of the heap, and (perhaps?) good for loaning me twenty bucks till the end of the month?

Yes, that is the raincoaster blog devotee!

And just for you we present the following video, another Brian Atene monologue, but this one may be somewhat familiar in parts, if you’ve survived high school English. I had all of the great “To be or not to be” speech memorized by the time I was ten because it was on the cover of my best friend’s mother’s cookie tin and it would always take her ten or fifteen minutes to talk her mom into letting us get at the Peek Freans, so I had plenty of time to go over the lines. I used to recite them to her poodle when I was pet-sitting, just to discombobulate it.

It was a nasty little dog, and I’m a bitch. What can I say?

So here it is, the video containing the plan for the definitive act of the twenty-first century. And what might that act be, you wonder? Well, I’ll tell you. But I’ll tell you over the jump, because I’m like that.

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Continue reading

Attack of the Tiny Giant Squid

Squid

Animated Squid

squid attack

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Quiz: skin disease or D&D character?

Skin disease or D&D character?

Stolen from Mental Floss via Neatorama. Here are the instructions:

The game is simple: we’ll give you a name, you choose if it’s a skin disease or a character from the realm of Dungeons and Dragons. Get all 16 right and you’re qualified to be either a dermatologist or a dungeon master, so pretty much all doors are open.

Skin Disease or Dungeons and Dragons Character?

Score: 100% (16 out of 16)

Woohoo, I knew those premed courses would pay off one day! Now I can be a world-famous Dungeon Mistress! Imagine the riches that shall be mine!

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Cannibalism Unicorn Chaser

Apparently, people are finding the whole “Leatherface Bakery” post a bit strong, particularly in concert with the “He’s eating my BRAIN!” post which immediately followed it. To offer salve to your traumatized synapses, to pay Spiegs back for allowing my shameless link whoring (subject to revocation if I wake up to find I’ve been executed again), and also to keep the whole Heads In Danger theme we’ve got going today on the ol’ raincoaster blog, I offer the following amusing (and only somewhat bloodthirsty) images of foodheads, which I stole from Fabulously40 via Gawker.

Apple, jack.

Orange and Tomato

Mister Potatohead

I think Mister Potatohead has had a little work done, don’t you?

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Headline Wars

This round so totally goes to Canada. Why? Well, let’s see…what did the widely respected Guardian have as a front-page headline two days ago?

Queen’s Grandson to Marry in Castle.

Like, duh. You think he’s going to do it in a graveyard at midnight, a Vegas Chapel of Luv, or some unpronounceable South American bureaucrat’s office? No; he’s Peter Fucking Phillips and he is going to goddam well get married at Windsor Castle and we DO NOT NEED A NEWSPAPER to tell us that.

The story, strangely, appears to be offline now. Perhaps they came to their senses, or perhaps I’m not the first to have remarked on the remarkable stupidity of that headline.

And what, you may ask, is this world-beating entry from the Socialist Republic of Canuckistan? Just this:

He’s Eating My Brain! I Can Feel It!

Naturally, it takes more than a grizzly bear attack in which he gnaws on your brain to keep a Canadian down; the fellow actually picked himself up after the bear was done with him and drove himself 25 kilometres to a gas station, where they called for help.

His hands were so swollen and bloody, he could barely get his keys out of his pocket, said Case, an experienced outdoorsman.

“I knew that if I didn’t drive and have the fortitude to control things, I was going to die.”

Case then drove 25 agonizing kilometres to the closest town to seek help. He finally reached a gas station and asked the attendant to call for an ambulance.

“I think my brains are hanging out,” he said. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but I’m alive. I started wiggling my fingers and toes…”

“I said [to the doctors], ‘There’s nothing hanging out that you’re not telling me?’ They said, ‘No, you’re OK'”

“They started using the peroxide and, ‘Ooh,’ I said, ‘that hurt more than the bear!'”

Badassery. We haz it.

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