Jesus Denies Ur Friend Request

Former Hitler Youth protegé Pope Benedict XVI (aka Georg Ratzinger–why can’t these guys ever keep their own names?) has officially declared a warning against that vast haven of sinners known only as teh internetz. Officially:

The concept of friendship has enjoyed a renewed prominence in the vocabulary of the new digital social networks that have emerged in the last few years…If the desire for virtual connectedness becomes obsessive, it may in fact function to isolate individuals from real social interaction while also disrupting the patterns of rest, silence and reflection that are necessary for healthy human development.

Did you know that the Pope has his own YouTube page? Look at him with that big, silly hat. He’s so cute!

Unfortunately, Ol’ Benedict’s message was apparently lost on Edward Richardson of Mayfield Road, Biddulph, United Kingdom, who thought it best to stab his wife to death when he discovered her to be listed as “single” on Facebook. If only poor Sarah Richardson had answered his text messages; now we’ll never the truth!

Such is the tragedy of the older generation and their ineptitude at online communication. Whereas those of us who have grown up alongside the internet (Al Gore and my parents often arranged playdates, but internet was a big bully and never shared the GI Joes) have found a way to express our thoughts and personalities through 1s and 0s and flat text, the older generations are still paranoid of this World Wide Web of Deceit. “Young people, in particular, have grasped the enormous capacity of the new media to foster connectedness, communication and understanding between individuals and communities, and they are turning to them as means of communicating with existing friends, of meeting new friends, of forming communities and networks, of seeking information and news, and of sharing their ideas and opinions,” says Popey, ever-so verbosely.

A fictionalized dramatization of actual events:

• Mom: “Are you on Facebook? How do I find you?”

• Me: “See where it says ’search’? You type my name in. You do know my name, yes? ”
• Mom: “Wait…is this you? It doesn’t look like you. It says he lives in England.”
• Me: “Well, then that’s probably not me.”
• Mom: “Then which one is yours?”
• Me: “Do you see the one that has my face as the picture? Part of the Boston, MA network? It also has my Alma Mater listed? That would be me.”
• Mom: “Oh. Okay.”
  beat

• Mom: “So now what?”

Really, Mom? It’s all pretty self-explanatory, isn’t it? Not to trivialize poor Sarah Richardson’s death (we at culturefuck are nothing if not tasteful in our crass, offensive, insensitivity), but suppose she really was completely innocent; would it be so hard to figure out what that little “Marital Status” box was for? They even give you an option for “It’s Complicated!” C’mon!

Every day, people are becoming more and more accepting of internet-born romances (including that really hot chick at work. I mean, seriously? She couldn’t meet anyone in the real world?), well beyond Facebook. Online dating seems to be where everyone meets these days. Benedict’s papal smear continues:

“When we find ourselves drawn towards other people, when we want to know more about them and make ourselves known to them, we are responding to God’s call – a call that is imprinted in our nature as beings created in the image and likeness of God, the God of communication and communion…Loving is, in fact, what we are designed for by our Creator. Naturally, I am not talking about fleeting, shallow relationships, I am talking about the real love that is at the very heart of Jesus’ moral teaching…blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah I wear silly hats…The new digital arena, the so-called cyberspace, allows them to encounter and to know each other’s traditions and values.”

After all this head-spinning of communication and relationships and whatnot, I think that I am sufficiently convinced that there is absolutely nothing wrong with Chelsey Davy breaking up with PRINCE FUCKING CHARLES via Facebook afterall. Wait, what? Of course there is! She didn’t even have the nerve to send him a message; he head to learn about it through his minifeed! Women across the world are clamoring for that strapping young monarch, and she’s dumping him in the single most impersonal manner known to man. Fucking Brits!

For those of you who have yet to catch on the unwritten laws of the jungle known as the internet — or those of you who are simply too British to comprehend the vast complexities of the World Wide Webernet — I implore you to observe but one simple rule:

DON’T BE A DUMBASS

Hooray Helen Keller!

Ready? Okay.

Q: What’s worse than being Helen Keller?

A. Journey.

“But culturefuck,” you cry, like the sad, pathetic little Journey-loving bitch you are. “Why do you hate Journey so much? I love singing ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ at the bar after doing jager bombs!”

To this, I refer you to the alcoholic phenomenon known only as “Beer Goggles” in which the mass consumption of alcohol makes a normally repulsive human being appear to be desirable, and often leads to terrible, terrible drunken mistakes. What you don’t know is that, despite it’s lack of popularity in the lexicon of every 18-35 year old American, “Beer Headphones” is a similar, and often times more tragic, abnormality in which intoxication causes a person to interpret audible signals much differently than they actually sound. Much like the way in which marijuana might convince a person that he or she actually enjoys the mindless, self-indulgent repetition of groove-based riffs that never fucking end, Beer Headphones can make otherwise horrendous sounds seem remarkably enjoyable, especially if these noises resemble a group sing-a-long in any way.

Let’s review:

For those of you who failed pre-algebra and either do not fully comprehend the above equation, or do not understand the transitive property of equality, I refer you to last week’s feature, which should make things more clear.

And now: Panda Sex

And you thought I was kidding, too. Ha! That’ll learn ‘em!

Zombies and Zombibilitiness

Renowned futurist/precog/feminist hack writer Jane Austen has once again foretold of the coming apocalypse. No, not Bollywood remakes. I’m talking about motherfucking zombies!

For those unfamiliar with this majestic literary work, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies is a re-telling of The Odessy in which the beautiful daughter of a wealthy Victorian family finds a way to resurrect herself as a zombie in order to be with the man she loves, the organ player in a mildly successful rock band that was unfairly overshadowed by “Pet Sounds” and “Sgt. Pepper’s” and still hasn’t really received their due. Also, the girl’s father is an alien. FROM THE FUTURE (of India). It’s a delightful comedy of manners that is loved the world over.

Austen’s writing has long been hailed by critics for its ability to predict the future with alarming accuracy (see Senseless Acts of Terrorism and Sensibility, or Mansfull Park), and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies is just the latest in this line of eerily precognitive coincidences. As of two days, the much-feared Zombie Holocaust has finally begun, in a quaint Texas town with less than 1,000 residents known as Austin.

As of eleven o’clock this morning, FEMA has cordoned off the area and secured it under a bubble to prevent the infection from escaping and turning the rest of the United States into brainless zombies. They have also enlisted in the aid of Dustin Hoffman to act as an official spokesperson, after Associate Deputy Administrator Robert Shea made an off-color comment acknowledging the containment of Zombie hordes as a higher priority than the overall well-being of black people. “We have received some criticism over our handling of the disaster in New Orleans, but we can assure you that we acted only in the best interests of the country, just as we are today. Zombies are an even greater threat to this country than those who were affected most tragically by Katrina, and I promise that FEMA will do everything we can to ensure that we don’t repeat the same mistakes twice.”

Good one, Bob-o.

More information on the Zombie Outbreak in Austin, Texas can be found here.

And now, puppies.

The Redhead Said “You Shred My Balls”

EVERYONE! CALM DOWN! NO NEED TO PANIC! YOU CAN RETURN TO YOUR SEATS! CRISIS AVERTED!

The vast conspiracy has finally been uncovered: “Cello Scrotum,” much like AIDS and Democracy, has been revealed as a scam. A phallacy! (see what I did there? I linked to the interwebz about something else that is only tangentially related yet intriguing enough for you to still click on it! Clever boy, I am)

The ailment formerly known as cello scrotum was discovered in 1974 Dr. Elaine Murphy of the House of the Lords. Along with guitar nipple and the violin hickey (aka Vicky), cello scrotum is a malady that only affects performers of a specific instrument after repeated use; in this case, the affliction appears only to affect men (I suppose the cello can be seen as the Great Equalizer when held up against HPV or yeast infections). The condition, which is described as the irritation or swelling of the loins after prolonged and vigorous play, just sounds to me like chaffage, a condition brought on by jerking off too many times (or too hard) on a snow day like today, or crotch rot. And as every knowledgeable, world-savvy male can attest, there is only one cure and one cure alone for such discomfort: Goldbond.

Back to cello scrotum. Apparently, Elaine Murphy and her husband, John, found the idea of guitar nipple to be so hilarious and unbelievable that they decided to submit a letter to the British Medical Journal regarding a similar phenomenon noted in cellists. Doctor John Murphy signed the published letter, even though he’s not actually a Doctor (which makes me question if the British Medical Journal ever actually checks its sources, and gives me all kinds of crazy ideas for mischief). Now that this condition has actually been noted and referenced in legitimate medical research, however, Elaine and John decided that it was time to come clean. In an effort to save her ass and social standing, Elaine told the press, “We frown on misconduct and medical fraud is taken very seriously. But in this case I hope I am right in saying that no harm has been done,” all the while grinning and giggling between words because, let’s face it, that’s fucking funny.

And you know what’s even funnier? The ridiculous amount of media coverage that this is getting. Maybe nothing else interesting is going in the world today (besides the leak of Lil’ Wayne’s new rock single), but really, associated press? I can’t tell if you’re digging for the truth like serious journalists, or if you’re just being ironic (I kind of hope it’s the former).

Although, this does get me wondering about the guy who first documented blue balls in a medical journal. “What’s that? Vasocongestion, you call it? And you’d like to do a controlled experiment for research? Why, sir, I do believe this is a medical breakthrough! This is bigger than penicillin, or intelligent design! You’ve completely revolutionized we see and understand the human body!”

Yeah. I bet that guy was British, too.

One-tooth Johnny will back me up…

“[Under state Senate rules] if the cowboy charged with stealing a horse was charged with doing that in town, but in fact on the date and time that he apparently stole the horse in town he was on the ranch with six other cowboys, herdin’ cattle and ropin’ steers, and then he expects that when his day comes to go to court he can bring those six cowboys to say it wasn’t him ’cause he wasn’t in town he was on the ranch herdin’ cattle, even if he could bring those cowboys into say that, under these rules, under 8B, it wouldn’t matter.”

-IL Gov. Rod Blagoaldkfjasdifoasdfij

Dear Rod,

Can I call you Rod? Great. Rod, here’s my question for you: What if despite the cowboy’s claims that he was out on the ranch, THE FUCKING FBI HAD A TAPE OF HIM CLEARLY TRYING TO SELL A UNITED STATES SENATE SEAT? This is a difficult thing to do while one herds cattle and ropes steers. Also, as Governor, is that really in your job description? You’re not Governor of Oklahoma. I’m thinking nobody cares what Carson and One-Tooth Johnny have to say about the ranch. They’re all lickered-up anyway. Regards,

Fucking everyone.

p.s. Please take this to heart, get out of office, and get off the news.

lol Godz

My next post will be an apology.

Anyway You Want It…

Journey fucking sucks.

Need proof? It’s right here.

That is all.

Now go kill yourselves.

Cleft Palate is the New Gunshot Wound for Gangstas

I don’t know what’s worse: that Joaquin Phoenix quit has acting career to become a rapper, or that Casey Affleck (whom I actually respected before this) is directing a documentary about Joaquin’s rise to cash money and hoes. Casey, ever the eloquent speaker that is, was quoted as saying, “I don’t think that [Joaquin's] kidding. He’s got music and stuff.” I assume the inspiration for the biopic that’s already under production must have Phoenix’s highly praised performance in “Walk the Line,” the Johnny Cash biopic. Unfortunately, Johnny’s probably rolling over in his grave right now, sending his ghost to haunt Joaquin Phoenix as retribution for sullying his good name.

The Ghost of Cash was hard at work on Friday night, when Joaquin Phoenix (sporting an epic beard of Fleet Foxes proportions. Or maybe he’s just cashing in on the whole Matisyahu thing?) made his bumpin’ hip-hop debut and proceeded to FALL OFF THE STAGE LIKE A TOTAL DUMBASS. Watch, and enjoy:

I think you, uh, crossed over that line you were walking, buddy. Yeah. Look like producer Sean “P-Puff-Diddy” Combs has his work cut out for him.

Supposedly, Joaquin Phoenix was playing in a band called “The Lady is a Tramp,” with members of Spacehog, but I can’t find any proof of this anywhere on wikipedia or the interwebs which obviously that it can’t be true. Oh well.

Of course, it’s entirely possible that this whole is an elaborate prank. I mean, I would call Bruce Willis’s failed musical career a joke, but that’s not quite the same thing. Hey, at least Joaquin Phoenix didn’t do a cover of a song by Iggy Pop on the “Rugrats Go Wild” soundtrack. “Here comes Johnny in again/With liquor and drugs/And a fast machine/He’s gonna do another strip tease. ” Really, Nickelodeon? Really? It looks like we have a new competitor for our initial question. Which one really is the worst?

Casey Affleck

– Watch the best video clips here

Bruce Willis

Or
Joaquin Phoenix

Well, faithful fuckers, I will let you decide the final verdict.