Thursday, February 03, 2005
ConAgra part deux
So the other night i went to buy more pot pies. I noticed that they also sell beef pot pies, so i decided to give them a try. Let me tell you, they are disgusting. If you have ever been to Australia and tried a "meat pie", you know what i mean. Like dog food in a flaky crust. Well, true to form, i decided to let ConAgra know about their failure.Hello to all my friends at ConAgra Foods!You may recal my recent coments regarding your Banquet brand Chicken Pot Pie (CPP), the absolute best and most magical food on earth. Unfortunately, I am afraid that what i have to say today is not as encouraging. The thing is, I decided to try your Banquet brand Beef Pot Pie (BPP). I thought, hey, i love beef, i love pot, and i love pies, it stands to reason that i would love the BPP! Well, if by "love" you mean i felt as if every molecule in my body had suddenly turned into pig diareahh, then yeah, i loved it. If by "love" you mean that i stripped paint from my kitchen ceiling with torrent after torent of steaming, highly acidic vomit, then yeah, i loved it. If by "loved" you mean i have cried myself to sleep every night since, and havent even been able to get out of bed without drinking at least a liter of tanqueray, then yeah, i fucking loved it, you goddamn douchebag. Im sorry. I dont mean to be abusive. I know its not your fault that the BPP was a complete and atrocious debacle, a lump pf pure, unadulterated BADNESS that should never have been concocted, let alone marketed and eventualy unleashed on an unsuspecting public. I cant even masturbate with this lump of putrescence. Please remove it from the market as soon as possible. If i eat another one of these abominations i will surely die. Thank you. Conklin...OUT!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
More old shit that i find awesome
I wrote this YEARS ago, but im in a dry spell right now so here you go.
Friday, February 11, 2005
the Karate Fucking Kid
I've been thinking allot today about the karate kid. The third movie was a waste of ass, but man, I have to say that the first two had a profound effect on me growing up, and still have an effect today. The original Karate Kid was released in the United States in 1984. I was seven years old. My mom took me to see it, and it literally changed my life. Up to that point, my only exposure to the mysteries of being fucking awesome came from Indiana Jones, and the Kung Fu movies that I watched with my dad on Sunday mornings. Indiana Jones was the shit, but he wasn't Mr.. fucking Miyagi. Not by a long shot. The Kung Fu movies were great, but they were totally inaccessible to my 7 year old mind. I could understand that kicking ass was awesome, but the subtleties of Asian martial arts culture eluded me, no matter how hard my dad tried to explain it to me. Not that he knew much about it beyond a basic understanding of Zen Buddhism and its relation to ass-whuppin. Then along came Mr. Fucking Miyagi. From Okinawa. He was a small, unassuming old man with a ironic sense of humor and a very thick, often unintelligible accent. He was like a human version of Yoda, but not as much of a weirdo. Miyagi was the kind of person that you make friends with right away, the first time you meet them, and that's exactly what happened with Daniel Larusso. I identified very strongly with Larusso. As a child, my family moved around quite a bit. I was often plunged into new environments with new challenges and new people who didn't like me. I went around wishing I was tougher, wishing I knew some karate. I went around wishing for my own Mr.. Fucking Miyagi. Watching Miyagi build Daniel-San up from a whiny, helpless punk into a whiny, determined ass-whuppin machine had a very deep impact on my life-view. I realized the importance of balance. I realized the importance of always waxing off what you wax on. I learned that violence is never the answer, but it helps to understand how it works, in case you are set upon in a deep fog by a bunch of Cobra-Kai bitches dressed up like skeletons.The final sequence of the first Karate Kid movie is amazing. Daniel-san, after Billy, aka Sensei Kreese's bitch, BREAKS HIS FUCKING LEG with a fucking illegal sweep to the knee, is all but forced out of the All-Valley Karate Tournament. After all, his fucking LEG IS BROKEN. He cant walk. "A man cant walk, he cant fight", right? Thats what evil-ass Sensei Kreese tells his misguided Cobra Kai bitches. Miyagi gets really worried, Daniel-San's mom is crying, his hottie girlfriend is crying, all hell is breaking loose. Daniel-San is on a fucking stretcher in the locker room with his FUCKING LEG BROKEN. Hes crying and pissing his Gi and doesn't know whether to shit or what. Miyagi, calm as you please, does some crazy Okinowan Alexander Technique shit and sets Daniel-San's leg. Daniel-San gets up, staggers back into the ring, and bows to Johnny, the Head Bitch of the Cobra Kai Dojo. Johnny is all like "what the hell, I thought you broke his fucking leg" and Sensei kreese is PISSED. He actually starts screaming "finish him Johnny! NO MERCY" or some shit. Johnny comes running up to "finish" Daniel-San, but Daniel-San pulls out the Crane Technique and fucking drops the bitch with a kick to the face. WITH A BROKEN LEG. That's when that awesome song comes on:" your the best, around, nothing in the world can drag you down" and everybody comes rushing out of the stands to carry Larusso, broken leg and all, on their shoulders because he has defeated the evil Cobra-kai and won his title a ALL-VALLEY KARATE CHAMPION. Fucking awesome. Tune in next week, when I talk about the Karate Kid pt II. Daniel and Fucking Miyagi journey to Miyagi's homeland of Okinawa, where a whole new kind of shit hits the fan....
Friday, February 11, 2005
the Karate Fucking Kid
I've been thinking allot today about the karate kid. The third movie was a waste of ass, but man, I have to say that the first two had a profound effect on me growing up, and still have an effect today. The original Karate Kid was released in the United States in 1984. I was seven years old. My mom took me to see it, and it literally changed my life. Up to that point, my only exposure to the mysteries of being fucking awesome came from Indiana Jones, and the Kung Fu movies that I watched with my dad on Sunday mornings. Indiana Jones was the shit, but he wasn't Mr.. fucking Miyagi. Not by a long shot. The Kung Fu movies were great, but they were totally inaccessible to my 7 year old mind. I could understand that kicking ass was awesome, but the subtleties of Asian martial arts culture eluded me, no matter how hard my dad tried to explain it to me. Not that he knew much about it beyond a basic understanding of Zen Buddhism and its relation to ass-whuppin. Then along came Mr. Fucking Miyagi. From Okinawa. He was a small, unassuming old man with a ironic sense of humor and a very thick, often unintelligible accent. He was like a human version of Yoda, but not as much of a weirdo. Miyagi was the kind of person that you make friends with right away, the first time you meet them, and that's exactly what happened with Daniel Larusso. I identified very strongly with Larusso. As a child, my family moved around quite a bit. I was often plunged into new environments with new challenges and new people who didn't like me. I went around wishing I was tougher, wishing I knew some karate. I went around wishing for my own Mr.. Fucking Miyagi. Watching Miyagi build Daniel-San up from a whiny, helpless punk into a whiny, determined ass-whuppin machine had a very deep impact on my life-view. I realized the importance of balance. I realized the importance of always waxing off what you wax on. I learned that violence is never the answer, but it helps to understand how it works, in case you are set upon in a deep fog by a bunch of Cobra-Kai bitches dressed up like skeletons.The final sequence of the first Karate Kid movie is amazing. Daniel-san, after Billy, aka Sensei Kreese's bitch, BREAKS HIS FUCKING LEG with a fucking illegal sweep to the knee, is all but forced out of the All-Valley Karate Tournament. After all, his fucking LEG IS BROKEN. He cant walk. "A man cant walk, he cant fight", right? Thats what evil-ass Sensei Kreese tells his misguided Cobra Kai bitches. Miyagi gets really worried, Daniel-San's mom is crying, his hottie girlfriend is crying, all hell is breaking loose. Daniel-San is on a fucking stretcher in the locker room with his FUCKING LEG BROKEN. Hes crying and pissing his Gi and doesn't know whether to shit or what. Miyagi, calm as you please, does some crazy Okinowan Alexander Technique shit and sets Daniel-San's leg. Daniel-San gets up, staggers back into the ring, and bows to Johnny, the Head Bitch of the Cobra Kai Dojo. Johnny is all like "what the hell, I thought you broke his fucking leg" and Sensei kreese is PISSED. He actually starts screaming "finish him Johnny! NO MERCY" or some shit. Johnny comes running up to "finish" Daniel-San, but Daniel-San pulls out the Crane Technique and fucking drops the bitch with a kick to the face. WITH A BROKEN LEG. That's when that awesome song comes on:" your the best, around, nothing in the world can drag you down" and everybody comes rushing out of the stands to carry Larusso, broken leg and all, on their shoulders because he has defeated the evil Cobra-kai and won his title a ALL-VALLEY KARATE CHAMPION. Fucking awesome. Tune in next week, when I talk about the Karate Kid pt II. Daniel and Fucking Miyagi journey to Miyagi's homeland of Okinawa, where a whole new kind of shit hits the fan....
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Curacao; infections, comic gold
so the little lady and i just got back from a week in curacao. six days of sun, water, rum, and 10oz Venezualen pilsners. At some point, i seem to have brushed against the dreaded Devil's Nettle, and now i have a horrible festering mess on my leg that wont go away. The good dr. gave me some antibiotic for it today, but given my distrust of antibiotics i think i will wait unitl friday to start taking it.
Now, whilst in curacao, two things happened that i thought were hilarious. First:
In Ortabanda they have a bridge that is retardedly high. It is high enough that cruise ships pass beneath it, so were talking HUNDREDS of feet here. Looks like a goddamned roller coaster. Tiny little guard rails, no median, etc. Terrifying. I didnt want to drive over it but i had to, one day. So i girded my loins, gripped the wheel in a maniacal death-squeez and drove. Of course, right when i get to the apex of this span of terror, and the sun glints off the ocean a THOUSAND MILES below, a fucking hornet flew into the car.
That would be bad enough. A man of less composure would, at that point, simply cut the wheel and drive screaming to his doom. But i am cool. I am ice. I do not falter. Instead of driving over the edge in an orgasm of frustrated fear, I started swerving madly from lane to lane, thus allowing me to swat at the hornet while still scaring the shit out of Katelyn.
The hornet, who i am convinced was graced with a sense of ironic dickishness, decided that the best response to my calculated swerving and seemingly frantic flailing, was to fly up the leg of my shorts.
With that, the impervious facade of unshakable confidence that i normaly exhibit flew out of my asshole at about mach 9. I became, in the words of one Egon Spengler, "terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought".
Try to imagine our rented pickup barreling over this bridge at about 80kph (my only thought was to get to the OTHER SIDE before the inevitable ball-stinging commenced, at which point i had no doubt i would drive this fucking truck into the nearest obstacle at top speed), swerving slighly, the passenger screaming at the driver, who appears to be punching himself in the penis with wanton fury. It must have been a sight to behold.
The good news is i didnt get stung. Somehow the little fucker (the hornet, not my penis) flew away and all was well.
The other funny thing was a resturaunt bathroom i saw. One door had a picture of a man and said "men. The other had a picture of a woman and said "women". Still another had a picture of a person in a wheelchair and said "out of order". Awesome.
Now, whilst in curacao, two things happened that i thought were hilarious. First:
In Ortabanda they have a bridge that is retardedly high. It is high enough that cruise ships pass beneath it, so were talking HUNDREDS of feet here. Looks like a goddamned roller coaster. Tiny little guard rails, no median, etc. Terrifying. I didnt want to drive over it but i had to, one day. So i girded my loins, gripped the wheel in a maniacal death-squeez and drove. Of course, right when i get to the apex of this span of terror, and the sun glints off the ocean a THOUSAND MILES below, a fucking hornet flew into the car.
That would be bad enough. A man of less composure would, at that point, simply cut the wheel and drive screaming to his doom. But i am cool. I am ice. I do not falter. Instead of driving over the edge in an orgasm of frustrated fear, I started swerving madly from lane to lane, thus allowing me to swat at the hornet while still scaring the shit out of Katelyn.
The hornet, who i am convinced was graced with a sense of ironic dickishness, decided that the best response to my calculated swerving and seemingly frantic flailing, was to fly up the leg of my shorts.
With that, the impervious facade of unshakable confidence that i normaly exhibit flew out of my asshole at about mach 9. I became, in the words of one Egon Spengler, "terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought".
Try to imagine our rented pickup barreling over this bridge at about 80kph (my only thought was to get to the OTHER SIDE before the inevitable ball-stinging commenced, at which point i had no doubt i would drive this fucking truck into the nearest obstacle at top speed), swerving slighly, the passenger screaming at the driver, who appears to be punching himself in the penis with wanton fury. It must have been a sight to behold.
The good news is i didnt get stung. Somehow the little fucker (the hornet, not my penis) flew away and all was well.
The other funny thing was a resturaunt bathroom i saw. One door had a picture of a man and said "men. The other had a picture of a woman and said "women". Still another had a picture of a person in a wheelchair and said "out of order". Awesome.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
no way
aparently i have a reader whom i dont know... someone who hasnt read out of guilt...
can it be?
well, i promise to ramp up the posts. starting... later on.
can it be?
well, i promise to ramp up the posts. starting... later on.
Friday, January 4, 2008
old and my favorite
Corporation for Public Broadcasting (c.c.'d the Children's Television Workshop)
To my life-long friends at the Corporation for Public Broadcasting,
I was born in 1978. As a result, I was among your prime demographic during what many consider to have been the golden age of children's television. In those long gone days of yore, us children were treated to hours upon hours of the highest quality entertainment, and the best of it came directly from your organization. I'm talking about Reading Rainbow, 3-2-1- Contact, Square-One, Mr.. Roger's Neighborhood, and, the Zeus of your Olympian Pantheon of childhood delight, Sesame Street. As a young lad, I squealed with boundless joy every time I saw my favorite characters parade across the screen. Not only were there frequent visits by the likes of C-3PO and R-2-D-2, but the old standbys such as Kermit the Frog (in a cross-over achievement remarkable for an artist of his stature, especially in those close-minded times), the terrifying Count, Forgetful Jones, Oscar the Grouch and his pall Slimy, The as-then invisible Mr. Snuffaluffagus (a Greek Mastodon? Genius!), and the late Mr. Hooper. Notice I have not included the lamentable and insufferable "Elmo", who came upon the scene like a festering boil, thankfully long after I had stopped watching.
The best, most loveable, and perhaps most misunderstood of your wonderful cast of characters was indubitably the obviously bulimic Cookie Monster. Cookie Monster represented to me the chaotic expulsiveness that came to dominate my early childhood; the snowball fights, the school bus riots, the terrorizing of countless babysitters. The way he would pour cookies into his mouth with reckless abandon, not even caring that most, if not all of them, fell right back out, all the while groaning his idiosyncratic "ummmmnumnumnummm" with almost orgasmic intensity, came to almost completely define my preadolescent worldview.
But now, this morning, I awoke to find that the most basic and totemic expression of my childhood glee has been, for lack of a better word, castrated by mindless pandering to the P.C. lobby. Cookie Monster has given up cookies. Take a second, and read that again. Cookie Monster has given up Cookies. WHAT THE FUCK. He now will eat vegetables, and even fruit.
I'm not even going to get into the fact that he is, in fact, a MONSTER, and therefore can eat whatever he damn well pleases. This is more a matter of principle. I find it repellent and regrettable that an institution as revered and important as CPB and PBS would bend to kiss the collective ass of all the miserable do-gooders out there that are afraid to indulge in a cookie binge from time to time. Have you no backbone, no integrity?
Unfortunately, at this time, I am disgusted beyond the capacity for rational thought, and so I will say no more. Let me just finish by saying that you have destroyed my childhood. You motherfuckers.
Sean Michael Conklin
Doctor of Awesomness.
To my life-long friends at the Corporation for Public Broadcasting,
I was born in 1978. As a result, I was among your prime demographic during what many consider to have been the golden age of children's television. In those long gone days of yore, us children were treated to hours upon hours of the highest quality entertainment, and the best of it came directly from your organization. I'm talking about Reading Rainbow, 3-2-1- Contact, Square-One, Mr.. Roger's Neighborhood, and, the Zeus of your Olympian Pantheon of childhood delight, Sesame Street. As a young lad, I squealed with boundless joy every time I saw my favorite characters parade across the screen. Not only were there frequent visits by the likes of C-3PO and R-2-D-2, but the old standbys such as Kermit the Frog (in a cross-over achievement remarkable for an artist of his stature, especially in those close-minded times), the terrifying Count, Forgetful Jones, Oscar the Grouch and his pall Slimy, The as-then invisible Mr. Snuffaluffagus (a Greek Mastodon? Genius!), and the late Mr. Hooper. Notice I have not included the lamentable and insufferable "Elmo", who came upon the scene like a festering boil, thankfully long after I had stopped watching.
The best, most loveable, and perhaps most misunderstood of your wonderful cast of characters was indubitably the obviously bulimic Cookie Monster. Cookie Monster represented to me the chaotic expulsiveness that came to dominate my early childhood; the snowball fights, the school bus riots, the terrorizing of countless babysitters. The way he would pour cookies into his mouth with reckless abandon, not even caring that most, if not all of them, fell right back out, all the while groaning his idiosyncratic "ummmmnumnumnummm" with almost orgasmic intensity, came to almost completely define my preadolescent worldview.
But now, this morning, I awoke to find that the most basic and totemic expression of my childhood glee has been, for lack of a better word, castrated by mindless pandering to the P.C. lobby. Cookie Monster has given up cookies. Take a second, and read that again. Cookie Monster has given up Cookies. WHAT THE FUCK. He now will eat vegetables, and even fruit.
I'm not even going to get into the fact that he is, in fact, a MONSTER, and therefore can eat whatever he damn well pleases. This is more a matter of principle. I find it repellent and regrettable that an institution as revered and important as CPB and PBS would bend to kiss the collective ass of all the miserable do-gooders out there that are afraid to indulge in a cookie binge from time to time. Have you no backbone, no integrity?
Unfortunately, at this time, I am disgusted beyond the capacity for rational thought, and so I will say no more. Let me just finish by saying that you have destroyed my childhood. You motherfuckers.
Sean Michael Conklin
Doctor of Awesomness.
Old but better
Budweisser:
Dear Budweiser,
I love budweiser beer. Budweiser is by far the freshest tasting, crispest, most refreshing beer that god ever invented. I love it, my wife loves it, our little daughter loves it! I know how some people are allways saying little kids shouldnt drink beer, but hey, at least its not crack, right? Also, my dog loves your beer. I usualy make him drink about 24 ounces at dinner, and i dont let him eat until he drinks it all. Then i feed him chocolate and chicken! YUM!
The best part about budweiser is the way it impairs your ability to drive! I didnt believe this at first, i allways thought driving drunk would be dangerous, but not with Bud! I fly throught the streets like a madman! I could never do that sober or drunk on some other, inferior beer. I usualy drink about 40 bottles of budweiser after work, then i put the wife and kids in the car and its off to the races! FUCK YEAH! Everybody better clear the roads, cause im hell on wheels, baby! YEAH!
Oh yeah, i love how much it makes me pee, too. And it softens my stools! no more uncomfortable bowel movements! When my daughter grows up and starts dating, im not letting her near anyone who doesnt drink at least a 12er of bud every day. How do they expect to have sex with my daughter if theyre not wasted on bud? Shes pretty ugly. Especially with the Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. She looks like kermit the goddamn frog.
Anyway, thank you for making the best beer in the universe. I love you so so so much.
ps- are those frogs still alive?
-Reverend Mint Conklin
Dear Budweiser,
I love budweiser beer. Budweiser is by far the freshest tasting, crispest, most refreshing beer that god ever invented. I love it, my wife loves it, our little daughter loves it! I know how some people are allways saying little kids shouldnt drink beer, but hey, at least its not crack, right? Also, my dog loves your beer. I usualy make him drink about 24 ounces at dinner, and i dont let him eat until he drinks it all. Then i feed him chocolate and chicken! YUM!
The best part about budweiser is the way it impairs your ability to drive! I didnt believe this at first, i allways thought driving drunk would be dangerous, but not with Bud! I fly throught the streets like a madman! I could never do that sober or drunk on some other, inferior beer. I usualy drink about 40 bottles of budweiser after work, then i put the wife and kids in the car and its off to the races! FUCK YEAH! Everybody better clear the roads, cause im hell on wheels, baby! YEAH!
Oh yeah, i love how much it makes me pee, too. And it softens my stools! no more uncomfortable bowel movements! When my daughter grows up and starts dating, im not letting her near anyone who doesnt drink at least a 12er of bud every day. How do they expect to have sex with my daughter if theyre not wasted on bud? Shes pretty ugly. Especially with the Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. She looks like kermit the goddamn frog.
Anyway, thank you for making the best beer in the universe. I love you so so so much.
ps- are those frogs still alive?
-Reverend Mint Conklin
Old but good
I'm out of ideas, so just like holywood its time to start recycling. Here are some emails i wrote to various corporations a few years ago.
ConAgra Foods:
Hello my friends,
I just tried your Banguet brand Chicken Pot Pie, and all I can say is HOLY FUCKING SHIT THATS A GOOD POT PIE! I love pot pie, i love chicken, and i LOVE chicken pot pie. But ive never had one this good. I have been looking for the perfect CPP for years, ever since my mom used to make them back when i was little. She used to burn them badly, and they tasted like ballsack. Once she "accidently" droped one on my lap and caused 3rd degree burns on my genitals. but thats neither here nor there. The point is that the CPP YOU make is amazing. I love the way the flavor dances on my tounge, and all over my chest, when i rub it there. I wish i had more CPP. I just ate one on my lunch break, and my boss had to ask me to leave the lunchroom because i was moaning so loud. Aparently i was suposed to have pants on in the lunchroom as well. Who knew?
Anyway, Please keep making your wonderful CPPs. If you ever stop making them, i will starve to death.
Yours Truly,
Mint Conklin
ConAgra Foods:
Hello my friends,
I just tried your Banguet brand Chicken Pot Pie, and all I can say is HOLY FUCKING SHIT THATS A GOOD POT PIE! I love pot pie, i love chicken, and i LOVE chicken pot pie. But ive never had one this good. I have been looking for the perfect CPP for years, ever since my mom used to make them back when i was little. She used to burn them badly, and they tasted like ballsack. Once she "accidently" droped one on my lap and caused 3rd degree burns on my genitals. but thats neither here nor there. The point is that the CPP YOU make is amazing. I love the way the flavor dances on my tounge, and all over my chest, when i rub it there. I wish i had more CPP. I just ate one on my lunch break, and my boss had to ask me to leave the lunchroom because i was moaning so loud. Aparently i was suposed to have pants on in the lunchroom as well. Who knew?
Anyway, Please keep making your wonderful CPPs. If you ever stop making them, i will starve to death.
Yours Truly,
Mint Conklin
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