Ladies and Gentyfriends, I present… FML Horse.

Dingus-o-deathmatron: When can objects commit suicide? Have we invented that yet?

FM Radio should be dead by now, but sadly, like leotards and opera,  it’s not. Here are seven completely unbiased, fair, and balanced journalistic observations about the medium, each in 140 characters or less (kind of like that twitter thing [why does everyone use that crap now, anyway? {I never even give a shit about what I am doing or thinking! (I wish I wasn't so lonely...)}]).

1. Hip hop and rock n’ roll should stay as far away from each other as spatially and conceptually as possible.

2. No matter how many times you play Zepplin, they will only be cool in that old-hairy-dad-mowing-the-lawn-in-a-tank top kind of way.

3. @radiodjs Just shut. the fuck. up. No one gives a shit about what you foreskins have to say.

4. I can only take so many commercials before I’d prefer that someone fuck my cochlea with a blow torch.

5. We can never make gay marriage legal because then everyone will want to marry NPR just for the benefits.

6. @mainstreamrap You sound like a fart.

7. @rushlimbaugh It will all make sense when you start dropping ecstasy again*

For the love of God (allegedly), just leave us alone. I’m sure the lepers would appreciate having you around…

//  y2_ganKster

*although Rush is on am radio (the even more lame kind of modulation), I felt that he deserved a shout-out.

Suck My Benedict

Not too long ago, we reported on the Pope’s public disapproval of online social networking. Pope Benedict XVI — you remember, used to be in the Hitler Youth? Man, I just can’t get enough of that one — made a few hilarious comments about the sinful nature of teh Intarwebz (“If the desire for virtual connectedness becomes obsessive, it may in fact function to isolate individuals from…healthy human development.” Thanks, bro. Can I call you bro? I don’t know where I’d be without your OFFICIAL DECLARATION). You may have also heard about the excommunication of several Catholic Bishops, including Dick Williamson (can I call you Dick?), who were apparently tight with Mel Gibson’s Daddy and liked to shoot the shit over a few beers while denying that the fucking Holocaust happened (there was also some nonsense about an unauthorized ordination that actually set the whole thing off, but that’s beside the point). Anyway, Benedict finally removed the stain left by that Papal smear and lifted the excommunication.

Nice guy, right? Except that some people were (understandably) pretty pissed about the whole thing. And by some people, I mean Jews. Now, I’m well aware that most young adult males in Germany around the time of World War II were forced to enlist, but that admission totally ruins the irony and ensuing hilarity and generally fucked-up-ed-ness of a former member of the Hitler Youth and leader of the Catholic Church pardoning a gang of Holocaust deniers. Ahem.

Of course, none of this crossed the mind of our dear old Pope (who is, in fact, the oldest Pope to ever be Pope’d) until after the fact. Oh…whoops? Now, less than 2 months later, Benedict has admitted his mistake (which makes me wonder — when the Pope goes to Reconciliation, who does he confess his sins to?). But he didn’t stop there! As he realized the error of his ways, Benedict learned the hard way about the power of The Intarwub:

• “I have been told that consulting the information available on the Internet would have made it possible to perceive the problem early on.” (how eloquent and politically neutral! Good boy!)

Benedict goes on to say that the Holy See (which is apparently the name given to the Pope’s domain and which sounds so terribly, terribly grammatical ignorant even though it isn’t) “…will have to pay greater attention to that source of news.”

To this, of course, the collective consciousness of World Wide Net-o-web responded:

p0p3 = pwn3d

(also, 0111010001001010010010110101111001)

And now…bacon!

I don’t think I’ve ever been happier about anything in my entire life.

But wait…it gets better!

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

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.

lol Godz

My next post will be an apology.

Masturbatron

RealTouch: Virtual Sex is Now Reality

Yes, that’s right. Virtual Sex is Now Reality. Let’s try that once more with feeling: VIRTUAL SEX IS NOW REALITY. The future of masturbation is here, and yours for only $149.95 (plus shipping and handling). 30-day Risk-free Trial! Available for gay and straight men alike. Oh boy! (boys?)

It’s like this: you plug the USB cable from the RealTouch into your computer and it interfaces with advanced Haptic technology. This allows you to experience whatever sexual sensations might be happening in the porn that you’re watching. You can FEEL your porn–set it to mouth, hand, vagina, anus, two hands, foot, ear, nose, whatever. REALTOUCH DOES IT ALL.

Did I mention it was developed by former NASA engineers?

A friend did point out one troublesome detail: there is no receptacle for your manjuices. You still have to clean up afterward. According to the website, a simple rinse-and-air-dry will do the trick (just make sure you rinse it out before you lend it to a friend. That’d be even weirder than crossing streams). Perhaps they’re saving such a feature for RealTouch v2.0? On the bright side, I guess it reduces the risk of staining your favorite shirt. This FAQ insists that, while you can wear a condom if you so desire, it is by no means necessary. Maybe you can try it with those Numbing Sensation condoms so you can last longer?

Unfortunately, the “Testimonials” (hee-hee. Testes) and “Tips & Tricks” sections of the website are still under construction. The video is entirely worth watching, however, as the congenial spokesperson tries ever-so-hard to mask her discomfort while saying things like, “RealTouch mimics authentic blowjobs, anal sex, vaginal sex, handjobs, footjobs, and just about any sexual sensation you can imagine. The haptic technology present in RealTouch also recreates more subtle nuances such as the feel of a woman when she squirts during intercourse. This is one-of-a-kind technology designed to make sure that you get the most authentic sexual experience possible, however you like it,” with the endearing monotone of late night infomercial hosts. Seriously, you’d think she was talking about a Hoover vacuum or something (actually, I guess she kind of is).

So there you have it. I have seen the future. And it’s really fucking horny.