There comes a time in the e-career of every blogger of worth when, in order to make it to the big leagues of bloggitude, he must generate some kind of controversy or scandal. As a general rule, this tends to involve the generation of truly Nixonian quantities of hate mail from those offended by the aforementioned aspiring blogger. Therefore, in my never-ending quest to achieve the greatest degree or terrestrial notoriety imaginable, I present just a few of the controversial and outrageous theories, facts, canapé recipes, and outright dissimulations that I can only hope will help me to offend enough people to beat out Gorbachev and the Olsen twins as Time magazine’s quasi-sentient being of the orbital cycle. Or just sell a bunch of T-shirts and start dating a supermodel. Whichever. What kind of epiphanies could I possibly to reveal to unleash such a torrent of awesomeness? Well…
A lot of people are buying those hybrid cars these days. And why not? They burn less gas, they have all sorts of nifty lights and gauges on the dash, and none of them have names that actually mean anything. But wait, would you be so eager to scurry out to your local Prius dealership if you were to learn that they achieve all these wonderful things because hybrids are actually manufactured from a new experimental alloy? A new experimental alloy made out of kittens? Because they are; every last one of them, made from only the cutest and fluffiest of kittens, hand-picked by Honda kitten polymer specialists deep within their secret lair beneath an Arby’s somewhere in Iowa.
Perhaps you grew up playing Super Mario Brothers, I know I did. But did you know that this beloved game was in fact based upon the lives of convicted murderers and anarchists, Sacco and Vanzetti? Sure, you thought you were saving the princess and her three hundred worthless shroom-headed attendants, but you were actually assassinating the leaders of a legitimately elected koopa government in the vain and foolish hope that the ensuing chaos would eventually usher in a utopian socialist paradise. In fact, the guy who shot President William McKinley played a lot of Mario Brothers when he was little, and it so thoroughly warped his mind that he built a time machine out of an old colander and a 73’ Buick Skylark just to break the very laws of time and space to further his radical nihilist agenda.
Beloved child actor and all around sassy little bloke Gary Coleman is not in fact totally short as we have always been lead to believe. In fact, Sir Coleman is over nine and a half feet tall and weighs upwards of half a metric ton. The illusion of his minisculinity is maintained only by having him always stand twice as far away from everything as everyone else. Also, he’s made out of kittens too.
If you caught the movie Mulan a few years back, you might be forgiven for believing that the Chinese are a peaceful people while the Mongol hordes are a bloodthirsty band of psychos. You would, however, be wrong, as it turns out that the entire film is nothing but a piece of total and complete anti-Mongol propaganda cooked up by the frozen undead brain of Walt “General Tsao” Disney in hopes that he might lull us into complacency so that when his army of genetically engineered tiny dragons voiced by Eddie Murphy come to conquer America, we won’t realize that we need to call Mongolia for help until it’s too late for the ghostly and Alec Guinnessian spirits of Genghis Khan and Davy Crockett to deliver us from their scaly red comedic reign of terror.
For all you vegetarians, vegans, antelopes, stegasauri, and other herbivores out there who probably enjoy the great array of soy burgers and other seemingly fine line of soy processed foodstuff products available, I fear I have some shocking news as well. It turns out that they make all these things from only the nastiest and most unsellable parts of the soy. The snouts, the tail, the femurs, the venom sac; these are the loathsome soy remains that go into your beloved soy burgers. Also, soy is in fact a Chinese word meaning, “made out of kittens,” so if you became a vegan in the belief that you had eaten you last kitten, I’m afraid its just bad news all around for you today.
A lot of you, I expect, love Raymond. But the truth is that not everyone does. A recent survey by the U.S. Department of Too Much Funding and Not Enough Brains recently revealed that only 97.8% of Americans love Raymond. More shocking still, the producers of Raymond’s dishonestly-named show had access to this little bit of information as early as the second season of the show, but they chose to hide it rather than telling the American people that Raymond was not quite so universally loved as they had been lead to believe.
Finally, after a great deal of painstaking, messy, and extremely silly research, I have discovered that it is indeed a physical impossibility, even with the help of a sledge hammer, to put a chicken into a biscuit. As such, you may expect to read within the week about my pending class action suit against the makers of Chicken-in-a-Biscuit, lying bastards that they are.
So bring it on, corporate
