The Adventures of Internet White Guy Commenting On Equality!

The veterinary hospital roars, an inferno. Shafts of flame escape with every collapse as the roof buckles, showering scalding ruin on desperate staff clutching terrified animals in their panicked flight.

Internet White Guy Commenting On Equality appears!

“Listen to me!” he cries. Ignored by those tending the wounded, he tackles a bleeding rescue worker to the ground, scattering blinded kittens.

“Listen!” he shouts into the struggling ear beneath him. “I always carefully dispose of any matches I use!”

Even getting out of the car means almost drowning, but crushing rain doesn’t change being stranded on the banks of a highway that thinks it’s a river, kids crying on a canted back seat as the car sags on a broken back-right wheel, and only rain hides your tears as the trunk fills with water in the empty space where your spare and tools should be. You don’t even hate the thief. You just wish the world could stop now.

Then the stretch limo honks its horn. It’s covered in tires. Sixteen spinning on the bottom – though you notice that eight don’t even touch the ground – and at least twenty more stacked on the roof in impossible towers. As it draws closer you see a huge funnel feeding the engine block, an impossible hopper filled with tires which it seems to burn instead of fuel. Hope turns to confusion as your realize that it’s slowing but not stopping. Cruising past, throwing up a spray of drenching cold, a window cracks open as Internet White Guy Commenting On Equality shouts “You should just work harder!” before disappearing into the night.

Steven Spielberg sees a figure on the horizon. It’s coming closer. It’s running. It’s dashing, tearing itself forward as fast as it can. Caught, compelled by the impossible urgency of the distant soul, he stands transfixed on the beach as the unknown stranger breaks itself against a punishing pace. Hours pass. Marathons rise and fall. The sweat-slicked body is suddenly on the beach, gasping towards him but never quite reaching his face, collapsing to its knees, help up only by the hand clutching Spielberg’s shirt. The other holds a Blu-Ray of Schindler’s List.

“I!”

The figure falls face down, pulling Spielberg to his knees, his hands, pulling his ear down to the straining face kissing the sand.

“I. I have never been a member of the National Socialist party.”

For more adventures of Internet White Guys Commenting On Equality, check out:

The 6 Worst Inspirational Posters Ever Made By Man

The 5 Most Ridiculously Sexist Superhero Costumes

The 8 Stupidest Defenses Against Accusations Of Sexism

The 7 Most Ridiculous Things About Calling Out Fake Geek Girls

5 Gamer Comments That Give Straight White Guys A Bad Name

Mind Blowing Mathematical Formulae

An exciting day over on Cracked, where I’m cutting loose the limiters and seeing just how much nerdy glory the internet really loves with 5 Mind-Blowing Mathematical Formulae. No claims of sexual solutions, no promises of insight into the perfect cup of coffee or bacon or coffeebacon, flat out mathematical beauty and an experiment in whether I’ll get to write more of these.

The idea that the universe is understandable is incredible. That our brains’ processing power and the structure of reality should overlap in a strings of symbols is the most amazing aspect of existence. Life itself is a sure thing compared to the coincidence of being able to deduce the rules behind your reality. Which makes it all the more tragic that so many don’t. People promulgate the idea of science and mathematics being amazing but impossible, sorcerous incantations mastered only by an elite few. This doesn’t give it an aura of power. It reduces science to the level of any other cult of authority, claiming ascendance by dint of being terrifying.

But we don’t need to be terrified of anything. We used to worship the sky because it shouted at us and set things on fire; now we can steer lightning with lasers, and don’t even have to, because a stick of copper can do the same job. We used to sacrifice living things to the gods of the harvest, because we were frightened of dying ourselves, and now we fertilise so many plants we get to choose which continent’s cuisine we want to have each night. We don’t need to be scared of anything that we can understand. And we can understand everything up to and including the edge of the universe itself. (We understand it so well that I get to use the borders of creation as a gag at the start of that article.)

We literally have the universe’s number(s). But because people think it’s boring, or hard, science is seen as just one more opinion in an argument, as opposed to the process which renders all argument obsolete, replacing it with results.

Which is very grand way to talk around an article where I make a 543 digit long dick joke. Which would be both hard and scary, too, but at least that’s the sort of thing people use the internet to look up already.

Happy International Tequila Day!

I would tell you to enjoy International Tequila Day, but that’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. There are three ways to respond to “Would you like a drink?”: no, yes, and HELL YES, and the third one is tequila. It’s what happens when you try to make Scotch in a country where it’s not miserable and raining all the time.

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Any drink that starts with attacking porcupine triffids is full of adventure.

Image source: Sun of Mexico

Read more in The Truth About Tequila over at CBS. And enjoy reading more with a cocktail!

Brave Bull
2 oz silver tequila
1 oz Kahlua

Pour the tequila into an ice-filled old fashioned glass. Pour Kahlua on top and swirl.

The Brave Bull is the embodiment of Mexican liquors. The blue agave of Jalisco, the coffee and sugar cane of Veracruz: that’s not just a national drink, that’s three different ways the sun itself shows its love for us. The source of all life growing through sugars and caffeine to create a potion of pure life. Silver tequila is the youngest form of spirit, brash, bursting with agave, the alcoholic equivalent of a slap in the face and imprecation to get on with everything. Add the invigoration of caffeine and the liquid love that is rum and you don’t have a cocktail, you have a Humanity Upgrade Serum.

It’s important to stick to silver tequila. An aged tequila in this drink is like burning mahogany to keep warm. To lighten the taste, add lime juice and shake with ice to create a South of the Border.

The Most Entitled Whining Ever

Whining in reviews of a video game on the internet – that’s someone three levels deep* in distracting fantasies and they’re still upset. These are people who could have Milla Jovovich and Benedict Cumberbatch on a holodeck and still complain about having to move so vigorously.

* The first level is the idea that anyone cares about dongHitler4269’s opinion of Portal.

People say that internet commenters don’t represent the whole of humanity, and that’s true. Internet commenters are only part of the most fortunate, best educated section of humanity. You may have a few moments to sob. Anyone with internet access is automatically better off than at least half the planet. They’re also connected to the greatest information network ever constructed and quite clearly have a lot of spare time. And then, given the chance to learn about any subject in existence, they instead share their own work on homophobic slurs as applied to other people who play their favourite game. Worst of all, that work is not very original. Never mind rudeness/psychoses, their understanding of dicks and assholes shows a distinct lack of sexual imagination. Which should be impossible: anyone who spends that much time online should know at least forty more genital configurations.

Luckily the symptom is also the solution. Comment sections were invented to funnel this tide of vitriol, but when they were overwhelmed we were forced to invent the storm drain of psychic sewage: user reviews. The ability to complain about anything, ever, and forever. They’ve done more to hold borderline psychotics in place than leather restraints and phenothiazine combined. Behold their power in The 5 Worst Video Game Reviews Of All Time.

The Duck Hunt Dark Side

Duck Hunt was a psychology test every child of the 80s failed.

duckdogThat bloody dog turned more children to the dark side than Vader and Palpatine combined. And you can forget Yoda turning up to take you on nature walks through the death forest – by the time he turned up kids would refuse to go outside without swearing at a Game Body

Learn more tragic truths of gaming in The 4 Most Hated Characters In Video Gaming History.

 

The Chicken Wing Suicides

This article first appeared on the now-defunct ZUG.com. The original was a five-part article. It has been edited to appear on one page.

Chicken Wings, the Eurekan combination of “How can we possibly sell these leftover scraps?” with “Wait a minute, people drink!” We can picture the naked poultry farmer running down the street even now, screaming about saucy chickens as he flaps in the breeze. And after completing his sentence he invented chicken wings!

There’s an amazing density of chicken wingeries in one street near my flat. It’s like the city planners were watching UFC while approving businesses (which explains why at also has shops selling nut-shields and martial arts movies). One block contains an impossible five wing joints, somehow sharing the cities bird-bit-budget between them until one finally closed – and another opened to replace it immediately.

The implications are terrifying – are Wings, like Mass and Energy, a fundamental conserved quantity of existence? Is all the universe’s “missing matter” eaten with Bud on Super Bowl Sunday? And far more importantly – how exactly are they reappearing after we digest them?

The Theory of Chicken Wings. (Standard Model included to increase scientificicness)

The Theory of Chicken Wings. (Standard Model included to increase scientificicness)

This demanded immediate and dangerous scientific experimentation. The Large Hadron Collider probes the laws of the universe by accelerating subatomic particles to incredibly high energies – Professor Wallybob and I decided to do the same with our stomachs! We’ll drive our digestive tracts to unexplored energy intensities by visiting all the wingsteraunts in one go, ordering the hottest “Suicide” wings at each. We will discover many things.

Not all of them good.

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Pacific Rim: The Story of the Irish Jaeger

The movie doesn’t tell the story of the monster portal which opened in the Atlantic, because Ireland dealt with it single-handedly. It turns out that “being invaded from other lands” is pretty much our entire history, cultural legacy, and best way to get us to kick your arse if you try it now we have a tech sector. On the grounds that it was how we defeat all our existing demons, we built our jaeger out of a distillery.

WHISKEYOUTPUTsmall

40% fuel ensured the pilots didn’t feel any pain, fatigue, or need to ask pointed questions about the feasibility of a 100 meter tall bipedal robot. But the real breakthrough was when it turned out that the best way to check advanced psychological compatibility for direct neural linkage was “fighting with sticks.”

Advanced electro-neuro-compatibility screening, using the first tool ever grasped by ape

Electroneurofusion screening, using the first tool ever grasped by ape

We immediately drafted the Kilkenny hurling team.

Photo: Jim O’Sullivan

“I’ll tear his head off, you get the ball!” (Photo: Jim O’Sullivan)

Fifteen championship trained violencies of pure speed. Hurling is one of the fastest games in the world, because if you were up against over a dozen stick-wielding Irishmen, firing what’s not so much a small ball as a large bullet, with no protective padding, you’d move quickly too. Fifteen fellas to divide the load – that’s more help than Jesus had, and even He couldn’t have helped any kaiju fool enough to start a fight with a hurley team in a distillery.

They annihilated everything that dared step out of the water. If they’d been on the coast at the dawn of time, all life would still be aquatic. They learned to use large boats to beat down the monsters, because the largest boats in Irish waters are usually Spanish fishing trawlers, though sometimes they had to keep the fight going for hours until they found one.

Once Whiskey Output ran out of grain during an extended battle. The hurlers disconnected the bridge, stepped out onto the roof with flare pistols, fired them in the air to let the monster know where they were, then leapt across and beat the unholy shite out of it with their hurls. This jaeger only carried distress flares to let the monsters know when they were in trouble. It didn’t have a self-destruct; its final option was to let the kaiju bite and let a million gallons of poteen make that melting-kaiju-acid-spit look like a moisturizing cleanser.

Of course, no kaiju ever got that far. When Whiskey Output sealed the breach (by standing right on top of it and playing Whack-a-Kaiju with anything that stuck its misshapen head through, a strategy which seemed to evade the rest of the world, until they gave up) they marched back to Kilkenny, parked it, and took the lid off the fuel tank. Which was why they were too busy to turn up at the Shatterdome. And wouldn’t have been allowed to drive there anyway.


For more giant robot shenanigans, behold

 

The Worst Thing Ever Put In Orbit

I wrote about the 5 coolest inanimate objects in orbit you might not have heard of, because when I found out about the Space Disco Balls of Science I had no choice in the matter.

Orbital Orb of Awesome

Orbital Orb of Awesome

Someone asked why I didn’t include the Salyut-3/Almaz 2 station’s 35 mm Nudelman machine gun.

 

The first reason is that the only sources for the gun are Wikipedia, fan pages, and mentions in a book which doesn’t have any references. Which is to say, there are no sources at all. A Wikipedia article without numbers in little square brackets is like a gun without any bullets: trying to use it in public will make you look stupid, get you in trouble, and you will lose any resulting fight very badly.

The second reason is that if it is true, it’s the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.

The “self-defense” gun was allegedly bolted into place along the space station’s axis. Meaning the entire station had to be reoriented to aim. So if you wanted to shoot someone, they had to co-operate almost as much as if they were docking with you. And anyone who knows what the hell they’re doing with orbital attack will just have fired a cloud of shrapnel to pepper your orbit. You might as well try to shoot gravity to stop it from slamming things into you at orbital velocity. Even firing the gun apparently vibrated the station so violently it was forbidden while people were actually in it. Then there’s recoil, meaning that your “self-defence” weapon was obscenely expensive to install, wouldn’t work, and its only function would be to kill the people it claimed to protect. Making the space gun the ultimate analogy for cold war weaponry.

There are apparently real Russian guns in space, kept in locked containers in any Soyuz capsules – like the one connected to the International Space Station. They’re intended to defend the crew from wild animals in case of an off-course landing in a remote area.

It’s sort of wonderful: a gun actually used as an intelligent tool by highly-trained specialists. When you crash-land in bear country, you’ve just used your enhanced brain to survive space itself as well as punching through an entire atmosphere: you’re damned if you’re going to let nature kill you now. That’s the gun as physical intelligence projector. “Keep away, bear, for I am smarter than you.”

The unexpected part is that, of all countries, the US doesn’t let their astronauts have guns. Any random citizen who can keep the voices quiet long enough to show ID? No problem, please insert your VISA card and pick up your hundred bullets. Astronauts, the most rigorously trained and selected people in the country? Have a machete.

That’s just going to make the the leverage and cutting-implement stats look better on the bear’s mauling card. You don’t go up against a few hundred kilos of pure carnivore in a sharpened-leverage fight. When you’ve used a few hundred tons of propellant to get back into orbit, a few more grams is a sensible way to make sure your next great adventure isn’t through a Ursidaen alimentary canal.

The thinking is that you don’t want a device which could kill everyone in a space station. Because we all know that guns have a completely different function on the ground.

It’s just odd to think that the smartest gun on the planet usually isn’t.

The Homeopathy Experiment

This article originally appeared on the now-defunct ZUG.com

There’s a secret cure that some doctors don’t want you to know about. Simply shaking some easily available ingredients produces potions of magical well-being which cure all known ills. These elixirs are called “cocktails”. Those doctors are hepatologists.

"I'm worried about this liver x-ray. Hell, livers aren't even meant to show up on x-rays."

“I’m worried about this liver x-ray. Hell, livers aren’t even meant to show up on x-rays.”
(Source: Inspe | Stock Free Images & Dreamstime Stock Photos)

There’s also a drizzle of bullshit called homeopathy, but you’d pass out before cocktails could get you drunk enough to believe in that.  Homeopathy says that minute traces of other ingredients in water and sugar can solve all your problems. When your medical expertise is identical to Coca Cola’s advertising strategy, you might not know what you’re doing. The core concept is that the more you dilute an ingredient the stronger it gets. You might recognise this as the exact opposite of everything that exists. And from the fact that you don’t get drunk, high, stoned, poisoned, and whatever happens when you drink the urine of everyone who ever lived and died with every glass of water.

"I feel clean and dirty at the same time!" Source: Jborzicchi | Stock Free Images & Dreamstime Stock Photos

“I feel clean and dirty at the same time!”
Source: Jborzicchi | Stock Free Images & Dreamstime Stock Photos

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