Utility Belts

“Holy shit, Batman! It looks like Fonzie Dracula has teamed up with furry lifestyle enthusiast Miss Mittens!”

And now I will rant about the 1960’s Batman and Robin…
What the hell is up with Batman’s utility belt? Just look at it. He’s got a series of wide, yet wafer thin square pouches encircling his waist (and a small cylinder that appears to be a tampon container). What the fuck is he going to carry in there? Various flavors of Poptarts? Slices of cheese? A copy of TV guide? His belt containers are quarter inch thick squares. Seriously, what type of bat-themed device could possibly conform to that kind of shape? Maybe he could put some wetnaps in there or something. For all we know he could be carrying around a Wilson Philips CD for Commissioner Gordon and he’s waiting for ‘just the right moment’. Perhaps he’s got a small shaving mirror in case he has to deal with bat-stubble while out on patrol. I don’t know, but one this is certain, there is nothing stashed in the micro thin folds of his handy dandy utility containers that will save the day when everything goes to shit. There is no way he’s got a batarang, bat cuffs, shark repellent or anything useful tucked into that marigold bandoleer. At the best he’s probably packing some coiled up yarn, a half melted Nestles Crunch and a crumpled note from the Riddler that smells like sweat and old semen. My advice? Get a back pack or something. I’m sure they make those in neon sunburst gay.

“Stop laughing at my bat boner….and my moobs.”

But that’s still better than his crimson clad sidekick. Can Robin really claim to be wearing a ‘utility belt’? At least Batman’s has pouches (thin and useless though they be). The boy wonder looks to have a total of six small tubes. If he puts them all together he’s got a spit ball gun maybe, but otherwise what the hell is he going to carry? He’s only got enough volume in those half dozen vials for a small bundle of toothpicks, a pair of Q-tips, some lip balm, tweezers, a lone safety match, and four tick tacs (five if you stack them just right). That is the extent of Robin’s utility storage capacity. He possesses all the power and crime fighting technology of a poorly stocked medicine cabinet. I’ve seen homeless beggars better equipped than this guy. Regular fucking pockets would be more useful than what he’s wearing. Does he realize that a fanny pack from the dollar store would increase his gadget carrying capacity by roughly 5000%. A Walmart shopping bag with holes in the bottom would be an improvement.

Basically…1960’s Batman was crazy. And if you doubt that then answer me this; why does he have florescent eyebrows drawn on his mask?

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X Stupid Looking Animals (With Incredible Super Powers)

X Stupid Looking Animals (With Incredible Super Powers)

Cracked.com is without a doubt the worlds leading authority on animals with powers and super senses. We’ve covered bugs with abilities that put Spider Man to shame, birds that prove Hawk Man is a wuss, fish who would murderize Aquaman and don’t even get us started about ants (boy do we know some stuff about ants). There are many extraordinary critters in the world, but not all beasties are born equal. Majestic creatures like the Golden Eagle and the Bengal Tiger are actually exceptions to the rule. Mother Natures children can’t all be Chris Hemsworths or Ryan Goslings. In truth much of the wild is filled with Nick Noltes, Danny Trejos, and the occasional Steve Buscemi. Though they are undoubtedly possessed of unearthly abilities that dwarf the puny endowments of average mortals…no one pretends they aren’t ugly. Likewise, these creatures here are the Ron Perlmans of the animal kingdom. The craggy, homely, snaggletoothed bastards that evolution has seen fit to imbue with serious kickass skills.

“We love you Ron, you big ugly cuss (please don’t hurt us).”

The Klipspringer (Ross’s part)


The African antelope known as the Klipspringer (with the scientific name of Oreotragus oreotragus, outrageously) is found on the rocky outcroppings, or kopjes, of eastern to southern Africa. Not the most visually impressive of ungulates, this stunted antelope only stands about 22 inches high at the shoulders, has ears that are actually bigger than its horns and eyes that look like it applied too much mascara prior to a prom night tragedy. Both males and females mark their territory by way of the facial stink emanating from their preorbital glands, and are one of the few truly monogamous mammals, preferring to stay in breeding pairs rather than slut-filled herds.

Herd behavior is a lot like the parties your mother used to go to in the 70s

“Klip” is Dutch for rock, and so their name translates to “rock jumper” in Afrikaans, which is highly appropriate. All hoofed animals technically walk on their toes, but only the Klipspringer minces around on the very tippy tips like some sort of French waiter. The surface diameters that their toes touch are only about the size of a dime. It’s comparable to a human ballet dancer deciding that dancing on her toes wasn’t hardcore enough, and performing pirouettes and grand jetes on her toenails.


It’s exactly this feature that allows the Klipspringer its amazing agility around the craggy surfaces that it calls home. They can jump higher than any mammal. They have the ability to spring as high as 25 feet (which is 15 times their own height), and their dainty pussyfooting style allows them to land onto surface areas no larger than a silver dollar with all four feet, presumably while laughing as pursuing leopards scrabble around like they’re wearing kitchen mitts on a mountain made of nickels.


Frustrated predators needn’t bother staking out a water hole to give their overly bouncy prey some comeuppance, as the Klipspringer has no need to drink, deriving all the water it needs from the succulents it eats. Another strange aspect of this antelope is its coarse coat, which is made up of hollow hairs that actually rustle when shaken or touched. Not that you’re likely to get close enough touch one, weirdo.


Pink Fairy Armadillo (Ross’s part)


In one of the worst cases of adding insult to injury that we’ve ever seen, we have the rather unfortunate looking Argentinean Chlamyphorus truncatus armadillo, which in addition to having been cursed with looking like an infected big toe has also been saddled with the common name, “pink fairy”. This nocturnal animal (would you come out during the day if your mother named you that?) is the smallest of all armadillos, and makes the kind we all know from the bloated carcasses on the shoulders of American southwestern freeways somehow look majestic in comparison.

[img width=300]http://i1181.photobucket.com/albums/x430/erhendr/armadillo1.jpg[/img]
An impressive feat

Why exactly evolution decided that the color pink was the best way to go for the carapace and claws is a bit of a mystery, but we do know unfortunately that this armadillo is endangered due to human destruction of its habitat, domestic dogs and possibly homophobia. They tend to be pretty sluggish when they’re wobbling around above ground, but as you may have guessed from the size of those backhoes they call front feet, it’s below ground where they really shine.

We haven’t seen nails like that since our last visit to the DMV

Those gigantic claws, combined with the peculiar formation of their carapace allow it to completely bury itself in seconds when they feel threatened. All bands of the shell across the neck and body move separately and freely, allowing it great mobility once underground where they can virtually “swim” through the dirt and sand. They use this ability to maneuver themselves next to ant colonies where they can attack the ants (their primary food source) from an unexpected direction.

Lex Luthor just got a great idea

You know how a band of lions is called a “pride” and a “murder” of crows means a flock of them? Well, as a final slap in the face to the dignity of pink fairy armadillos, a group of them is referred to as a “fez”. We’re not sure what these guys did to piss off the scientific community, but back off people, they’ve had enough. Seriously.

I already live underground and hide during the day. Why do you people keep fucking with me?

Elephantnose fish


The Elephantnose fish got it’s name because of it’s stupid stupid face. And even though that ridiculous looking appendage is actually on its chin the name stuck. And besides, Megachin sounds more awesome than an aquarium dweller probably deserves anyway. But there’s more to this fish than meets the eye, which is good because the Elephantnose Fish spends most of its life in darkness, only venturing out at night to find food and host the Tonight Show.

So how does this fish maneuver and find food in the dark? You may think it uses it’s face-phallus to feel its way around, but that then would be dumb. No, this fishes mouth-schlong lets it perceive the world around it in ways that could almost make Daredevil believable as a Superhero, using the power of Electrolocation. Which is apparently like echolocation, only with electricity, and possibly magic.

It does have a wand…

The Elephantnose fish (Gnathonemus Petersii to its friends) has a special organ in its tail that it uses to generate a small electrical charge. Receptors in it’s chin-wang are able to sense the way this electrical field interacts with their surroundings. It then sweeps this jaw-dong across the sea floor like a metal detector to find its favorite food, the carcasses of delicious dead insect larvae. That’s right, it evolved an extremely elaborate and unique sensory organ to eat dead bugs. It’s no big trick to sense the electrical impulses given off by living creatures. Sharks and rays do that all the time. But the Elephantnose fish can detect things that no longer have a life force. It can identify microscopic corpses rotting in the muck by measuring their capacitative properties, i.e. their ability to store charges.

In other words it uses a ‘Sixth Sense’ to see ‘dead people’.

Studies of the Elephantnose’s abilities have also proven it’s able to identify different shapes, materials, sizes, and the volume of different objects in total darkness as well as measure distances to within a few millimeter, just by using electrolocation. They also use this Schnauzenorgan for mating, but not in the way you’re thinking (pervert). If they did, you probably would have heard of this fish by now. And Science would have given it a better name.

Gnathonemus RonJeremii perhaps.

Despite it’s amazing abilities the Axolotl would probably never make it into the Super Friends. Superman juggles speeding bullets, is more powerful than a train, and is able to leap over really tall stuff (not to mention he can fly so fast around the earth that it reverses time itself). Wonder Woman has an invisible plane, a lariat of truth, and an amazing rack. Batman grumpy and super humanly wealthy. The axolotl on the other hand doesn’t even own a single pair of spandex tights and can only list ‘recovers amazingly well from an ass kicking’ on his resume.

Look at him. He’s just begging for an ass whoopin.

Axolotls are masters of regeneration though. They can grow back lost limbs, eyes, jaws, their heart and parts of their brain. No other vertebrate has such incredible regenerative abilities. On rare occasion, they will generate two legs to replace one that they’ve lost. Why? Because screw you, leg-eater—that’s why! They also readily accept transplants from other axolotls. Basically if you had a bunch of spare axolotl parts laying around you could squish them all together and it would get up and walk away (probably). It’s mutant healing factor allows the axolotl to integrate it or regenerate it. All it needs now are a few claws, adamantium laced bones and a rugged antihero Canadian hairstyle.

“I’m the best at what I do and what I do ain’t pretty…also, I look like a frilled penis with legs.”

It is the Axolotl’s unique body part manufacturing capability and the possible implications for humans, that accord it real life superhero status though. Researchers have isolated the gene that enables cells at the site of their wound to grow into skin muscle or bone. Furthermore, some of the axolotl’s healing genes resemble those responsible for healing in humans. Further furthermore, researchers have been able to grow muscle cells in mice by implanting the mutant axolotl gene. Molecular cell biologist and geneticist, Elly Tanaka explains the implications for humans of the regenerative gene. Spoiler alert: get used to the stump.

Iron Snail
There are over five-dozen characters with the name Iron in their name have appeared in comic books throughout the decades. From the justly famous like Irona, Richie Rich’s robotic maid (who will one day pneumatically usher him into manhood), to the obscure; Iron Hands, Iron Masks, Iron Maiden, Iron Chef and Robert Downey Jr.

But do you know what you don’t see in that list? The Scaly-foot Gastropod (Crysomallonsquamiferum). It is a tragic oversight because this diminutive beast has an amazing power. The power of IRON! And possibly love, though that’s not referenced in the sciency articles. Discovered in a hot curry vent somewhere in the Indian Ocean this super-snail employs such a revolutionary design it might change the way certain products are manufactured.


Don’t let the fact that from the side it looks like he is a visor-slot away from being the best Robo-Cop cosplayer in the animal kingdom or that from the underside he looks like your girlfriends’ sporting some new scale mail birth control (that would be AC 6, (5 with a shield) for those that hew to the old ways of AD&D).

“If you know what scale mail is then there is a good chance you don’t have a girlfriend, but trust us the resemblance is distrac..urbing.”

You can call him the Scaly-foot Gastropod or if you prefer you can use his wrestling name, ‘The Iron Snail’. He can in ways not yet determined by snailologists, metabolize iron sulfides and use them to armor his outer shell. This is a real super-power and no other living thing on Earth can do it. The shell is so tough crabs are thought to dull their claws trying to break through to get to the sweet and juicy mollusk-flesh within. Leading to much mocking in crab after-hours bars. This brainless snail at the bottom of the ocean has more success getting rid of crabs than a local fraternity does.

“Although you might want to get that rust looked at.”

The shell consists of three parts: The metal studded outer shell, a thick-spongy middle bit and then a normal calcium carbonate layer, all protecting the chewy tootsie pop-like critter in the center. When damaged the outer shell cracks in such a way that the force is radiated outward via micro-cracks and this insures that the cracks do not get any larger. The spongy middle further dissipates the force thus leaving the relatively fragile inner shell undamaged.

This ability has attracted the attention of research groups who would like to incorporate these designes into items for non-snailish users such as motorcycle helmets, pipelines and body armor. Now governments, private science labs and militaries are probably going to spend years and hundreds of dollars trying to duplicate what this snail does naturally. But why waste the time and money doing that when you could just start an Iron Snail ranch (which, hopefully, would be totally unlike Nevada’s Bunny Ranch) and grow enough of the little guys that you could just strap them to yourself. As an added bonus, if the wearer is hurt the properly-trained snails can crawl him away from danger. There is literally no downside!

Flying Squid


We’ve mentioned before that you aren’t safe from the horrors of spiders even underwater, so it’s only fair that we point out that one of the most terrifying creatures in the sea can totally get you outside of the water.

Most of you have probably heard of flying fish at one point or another– the fish that leap out of the water and use their wing-shaped fins to glide safely away from predators. But if there was ever a sea creature that appears to have no aerodynamic capabilities whatsoever, it’s the squid. You’d have to be stupid to actually believe that one of those writhing masses of tentacles could fly, right?

Not pictured: When it latches onto your face and lays eggs in your stomach.

So if flying fish are famous, why hasn’t anyone heard of flying squid? Mainly because they are preyed upon by birds, so they are more likely to jump out of the water at night when birds (and humans) are less able to see them. Plus, at a distance, they are easy to mistake for these flying fish that everyone is raving about. Plus, unlike the flying fish, the flying squid aren’t one particular species. Because this behavior is so recently observed, we aren’t even sure how many types of squid can do it yet. That’s right, for all we know they could all fucking fly. Not only is it a super power but it’s also a goddamn secret they’ve apparently been hiding.

But when it comes to the actual flying, the squids kick the fishes asses. They can glide across the ocean’s surface for more than 150 feet at a time, and at recorded speeds that are five times faster than they can move in the water. In fact, the distance they can fly is limited only by the wind, and some scientist believe it is more similar to actual flight than gliding.

The “flying” is done to save precious energy on long migrations during mating season. So how can these tentacled monsters of the deep launch themselves up from under the ocean and into your nightmares? With a little thing called jet propulsion.

You know how it works even if you think you don’t. Next time you drink something with a straw, pull the straw out of the drink but cover the top with your tongue to keep the liquid inside and spit it all over your lover. Now laugh at them. Congratulations, you just used jet propulsion to make that work…and your single again.

Squids suck water into their body and spit it back out to move. Imagine having to pee underwater so bad that when you finally succumb to the urge, it shoots you entirely out of the water.

“Think ‘golden shower’ but as a means of propulsion.”

The flying squid is generally found in the northern Pacific (including the Russian and Alaskan coast), where it cruises the surfaces looking for drug smugglers in speedboats (citation needed). Flying squid were considered a myth until 2010 when a British tourist took high-quality photos of one off the Japanese coast. “Considered a myth”, even though National Geographic had a film of one as early as 1970, and Thor Heyerdahl, the famed Norwegian anthropologist, and one of the biggest-balled men who ever lived, reports having seen them while on his Kon-Tiki voyage. And he has no reason to lie.

How did we miss this? They’re even shaped like airplanes.

Naked Mole Rat

“Evil has a new enemy…and it looks like he stayed in the bath tub too long.”

Behold the naked mole rat of Africa in all its pink, wrinkly glory. What kind of skills could this freakish bratwurst with teeth possibly have? Well, besides it’s ability to exude a special kind of nude repulsiveness, it was recently discovered that naked mole rats don’t feel pain like the rest of us. Their skin lacks several key neurotransmitters so neither the burn of acid nor chili peppers affects them. Apparently they aren’t bothered by itches either, so we’re guessing venereal diseases aren’t really a problem. Because they live underground where fresh air is at a premium there’s a lot of carbon dioxide build up which make their environment very acidic. This grotesque rat has evolved a way to turn off the pain that every other animal on the face of the earth feels. Take note villains, the whole ‘vat of acid’ routine isn’t going to work here.


Naked mole rats also have an incredible set of chompers. They can move their top two teeth apart or together like chopsticks which they use to manipulate their environment. And because they’re burrowing animals twenty five percent of their muscles are found in their jaw alone. That’s like taking all the power of one of your legs and putting it in your face. These critters have been known to chew through solid concrete! Not wood, not hard packed dirt, fucking stone hard cement.


And to round out their skills the ‘I refuse to put on cloths’ rat is extremely long lived for a rodent and they appear to be completely immune to cancer. We say ‘appear’ because researchers have tried and failed to induce the disease in these critters. They’ve been irradiated, poisoned, dosed with every imaginable pollutant—chemotherapies, oxidative stressors, and heavy metals—with little or no effect. People in lab coats are very literally pouring lethal carcinogens down their throats right now. Science is actively working to kill these bastards and apparently it’s a losing battle.

“With great power comes great…hideousness, apparently.”

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Most Screwed-Up Family Relationships in Nature

Most Screwed-Up Family Relationships in Nature
Relationships That Prove Mother Nature Is Kind of a Bitch

(I didn’t put the links or all the pictures cuz it would have taken forever and a day to convert it all. However, this is the uncut article as promised.)

Procreation is a beautiful thing. The elaborate mating rituals, the delicate act of intercourse and then, after the long wait, finally welcoming the fragile progeny into the world. The majesty of nature has no equal. Every creature is a miracle, no matter how slight. Every living being is a wonder, no matter how insignificant…with the exception of the evil bastards on this list. These are not your typical Disney feel good animals bursting with fuzzy, cuddliness. These are the cutthroat, backstabbing fiends that never get talked about. This is what happens when Mother Nature stops giving a shit.

7 – Pipefish Eugenics

Everyone knows that male seahorses and pipefish “give birth” – it’s one of those quirky factoids they try to hold your attention with in 4th grade science class. The mommy passes the eggs to the daddy who holds them in his belly until they grow up. It makes seahorses and pipefish sound like the most devoted fathers on earth. Nature has reversed the roles here so we can see what life would be like if men were mothers. Surely there’s nothing about this little experiment that could go wrong. Guys probably make great caregivers, what with all the maternal instincts woven into the very fiber of their being.

However, scientists who study these fish began noticing something rather odd. Sometimes babies would go missing. To solve this mystery they laced the mother with mildly radioactive amino acids. Unfortunately the experiment was a dismal failure because the mamma pipefish did not develop any super powers whatsoever. However she produced eggs and passed them to the male’s brood pouch where they were fertilized. Before long the researchers began to notice these radioactive amino acids showing up in the fathers liver and muscle tissue. Apparently Mr. Mom was absorbing fetuses on the sly. Snacking on them like embryonic popcorn. In fact, the brood pouch of the male pipefish is lined with blood vessels to help facilitate the consumption of innocent younglings.


Why do they feel the need to eat their own unborn brood? Partly it may be to help recover lost nutrients in times of need. But researchers also discovered that males would eat more of the embryos of small or unattractive females. They will sometimes abort/eat up to half of the younglings of a homely mate. By restricting the flow of nutrients to the brood pouch it forces the babies to fight for the scarce resources. Only the strong survive…and dad consumes the rest. Which only makes sense. If you’re going to have ugly kids why not just eat them before they hatch? Science speculates that pipefish do this because they simply don’t want to waste resources on offspring that aren’t genetically fit (ugly). So yes, they devour babies and they’re shallow.

“What kids? I don’t see no kids. I’ll call you.”
“The male shoelace in it’s natural habitat.”

“Even though it looks like it will be a Long, Drawn Out custody battle… it won’t”
“Don’t fret, they’ll always be with us. In one way or another.”

“I vote that we talk about my infanticide after we have angry fish sex.”
“Babies are like beers – the uglier the female, the more of them you need to consume.”

6 – Sagebrush Cricket Lovin
Love hurts. Partly it’s because opening up on such an intimate level leaves you exposed and defenseless. It’s easy to wound someone when you’re so close to them. Or maybe it hurts because your mate is eating your fleshy hind wings and drinking your blood. Such is the case with the Sagebrush Cricket. Apparently the females really don’t want any part in the whole procreation process. So to keep them occupied while the guy does his thing he offers up his wings as a snack. Proving beyond any shadow of a doubt that guys will do anything to get laid.

“Humans have a similar ritual. Its called Valentines day.”

She’ll gnaw at his wings, sometimes until they’re just nubs and then she laps up his life juices. This doesn’t kill or endanger the male, but it probably isn’t very comfortable. But as long as she’s happy, that’s what really matters. The female gets to satiate her man-hating cannibalistic nature and the guy gets to pass on his genes. The only problem is that this trick only works once or twice. Wings don’t grow back and being half eaten is a big turn off for the ladies. Once a guy has been eaten the females aren’t interested in him any more. No dinner, no date. It’s probably one of the only instances in nature where virgins get all the action.

“You cheating bastard! Whose bite marks are these?”

5 – Horse Infanticide
Horses have been the symbols of majestic grace and power since time immemorial. There is something about the regalness of their bearing, the nobility in their stance. The sleek coats, the elegant build, the large liquid eyes which seem completely devoid of the petty sins and hatreds that plague the world of man. The horse is truly a magnificent beast worthy of praise and admiration. Except for the females. They’re whores.

Mares that return to their home stables after getting knocked up on some other farm will immediately engage in promiscuous sex with all the local studs. There will be lots of freaky horse loving to go around. To be fair it’s probably for the best that she slut it up a bit. The sudden equine gangbang is actually a scheme to disguise the paternity of the baby. If all the males think they’re the father then they’ll be less likely to beat the foal to death…which they’ve been known to do. Because apparently horses in general are just assholes.

So mamma’s giving it up like a back ally hooker to protect her precious child. Is there any story more inspiring than a mother willing to sacrifice everything, even her dignity, for the safety of her child? But then of course, if she’s not allowed to screw every swinging dick in the pasture she’ll just go ahead and abort the pregnancy. It’s not worth the trouble. If she’s not certain that her foal’s chances of survival she’ll save herself all the time and energy of going through the pregnancy. Better to get rid of it now before you get attached to it anyway. Research done on zebras showed that if even a single new male was brought in to the heard the foal’s chances of survival fell to less than 5%. Who could have guessed that there was a dark, seedy side to the seemly carefree world of horses? A place full of abusive alpha males and ruthless, tough-as-nails moms. It’s ‘My Little Pony’ meets ‘Young and the Restless’.

“You know you’re the only one. Those others meant nothing to me.”

“I call next.”

4-Tasmanian Devil’s are just like Carebears (only evil)

We’ve worked tirelessly to warn the world about the evils of nature and in particular about a dark foreboding continent called ‘Australia’. So yes, we’ve covered the fauna of the land ‘down under’ pretty well including that furry little sarlacc on legs, the Tasmanian Devil. Pound for pound they have the strongest mammalian bite in the world. They eat everything down to the bones and then they eat the bones…and then the cloths and shoes. They’re mean, gluttonous little cusses who will chew through metal if the mood strikes them.

But even Tasmanian Devils are capable of love and affection. Their mommy cares for them and loves them. She can have as many as 50 pups but she only has four lactation dispensaries (boobs). Amazingly enough they all take turns feeding! Perhaps we’ve misjudged these little scamps after all. If vicious bastards like Tasmanian devils can learn to share and cooperate then why can’t we?

And if you believe that line of bullshit then you’ve obviously never read an article at Cracked.com before. Devils don’t share for shit. The truth is that because there are only four milk spigots so only four pups will survive. As soon as they’re born there’s a race to see who gets one of mommies feeding nozzles. Whoever makes it their first and can hold on wins. The remaining 46 starve to death within hours. Nature goes through the trouble of creating 50 squirming newborns and then lets 98% of them die pretty much immediately for no reason other than to drive home the point that sharing is for losers. It’s official. Devils are the most vicious mammals on the face of the earth (take that Honey Badger!).

Video of some crazy dude with his devil:

3. Sea Lice Suicidal Maternity
You’re pregnant! Congratulations! You get to have 10 pounds of uncoordinated infant kicking around in your guts. You’ll be suffering for the better part of a year and you get to finish it off with several hours of mind numbing agony! Nine months of cramps, bloating, hormonal swings and then the melon headed kid bursts out to do nothing but cry and crap for another year. How’s that sound for a deal? Chihuahua, Pomeranian, Shih Tzu…these are all foreign words for ‘lets get a dog instead’. And yet the instinctual drive to procreate is strong. Despite all the pain and the hardship women keep having kids and men keep drinking themselves into a stupor. It’s the natural order.

But as difficult as human childbirth might seem, it doesn’t even begin to compare to the trials of the sea louse. Yes lice, the bane of elementary schools and the homeless can also be found in the sea.

“And you didn’t even know fish had hair.”

They’re parasites that feed on the blood and flesh of just about anything. So no, they’re not cuddly buggers by any stretch of the imagination. But every creature is born with some kind of instinctual respect for its progenitor, right? Everything shows an unconscious deference towards its maker. Mothers are sacred. The vessel that bore you deserves respect at the least if not outright reverence. And no doubt sea lice feel a deep sense of love and affection as they eat their way out of their mothers. Labor? Not quite. Mamma sea louse goes through more of an involuntary cesarean in reverse. It’s kind of like the movie ‘Alien’ only she’s got hundreds of babies chewing their way out. Lots of animals experience difficult pregnancies. But few of them are devoured from within by their own ravenous brood. So the next time your significant other starts dropping hints about babies, regale them with the tale of the poor sea louse and go out and get a nice toy dog instead.

2 – Fire Ants

If it’s one thing we’re an expert on it’s drunken slovenliness. If there were a second thing, it would be ants. While on the surface it may seem that ants are the epitome of unity and cooperation even they have their differences. The invasive fire ant, for instance, faces a serious conundrum. Women do all the work around the hive and the males are pretty much useless (a fact that many of our female readers would attest to). Ant males don’t hunt, they don’t take care of the young, they don’t dig and they don’t fight. All they do is eat, mate and poop (also a fact that many of our female readers would attest to). Therefore having too many dudes around is a waste of resources. And that’s why the worker drone ladies will pretty much kill a brotha on sight. Male fire ants are not even safe in their own home amongst their own kind. The workers embark on a systematic killing of all the males during the larval stage. But this presents a problem for the queen. To propagate the species she needs males to mate with other queens. Without the lazy, good for nothing sperm donors (or the ‘l.g.f.n.s.d.’ for short) the species would die out. How do the two sides work out a solution? What’s the middle ground? The queen overwhelms the colony with male eggs while the female workers slaughter as many as they can. A few boys make it through the culling, probably because the lady ants can only kill so many a day. Apparently mass fratricide is quite draining. The only reason dude ants survive is because the queen can out race her daughter’s ability to wreak carnage upon her siblings.

“And if there’s one thing we’ve learned about ants, it’s that this really pisses them off. And don’t inhale.”

1 – Sharks Nursery Massacre
Is anyone surprised that sharks are heartless eating machines that possess absolutely no maternal skills what so ever? Sure, they probably don’t deserve the stigma as crazed serial killers who will stop at nothing to devour every person who sets foot in the ocean. But that still doesn’t mean you should make kissy faces with one…like this guy:

Video of that dude who kissed a shark and got bit in the face: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U9Fc-TvUdwk

Sharks will eat just about anything including their own young. The greatest gift a mother can give her kids is a head start. Sharks eat. It’s what they do. Scientists have gotten their fingers nipped running gynecological exams on lady sharks. As soon as they develop jaws they’re ready to eat.

Some sharks produce external egg sacks. Some sharks have live births with placentas, kind of like mammals. For the last group Mother Nature said fuck it, we’re going with a more economical stripped down model. Ovoviviparous sharks have live births, but they don’t have an organ to feed the developing fetuses. So guess where they get their nourishment from? Placentas? Sure, there are lots of placentas. But they’ve all got teeth and they fight back. Ovoviviparous sharks eat each other in the womb. These sharklets are attacking and killing shit before they’re even born, but not just because they’re vicious, soulless carnivores. The babies have to eat each other or they’ll starve. Nature went all psycho aquatic Highlander when she engineered the shark. There may be as many as 20 eggs starting out, but in the end there can be only one will. Maybe this helps to explain while Great Whites, Tigers and Macos are so ferocious. Maybe it’s not their fault that they’re monsters. Every moment of their lives is a brutal fight for survival. Try to remember that next time you’re sleepy little beach front community is being terrorized by a man- eating Great White.

An actual video of a baby shark in the womb eating other sharks.

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Daft Gadgets 2

It’s time for another episode of ‘oh my god I can’t believe they published that’. Besides being awesome, I’m pretty sure the good people at daftgadgets.com are insane. Here’s a few more of my favorite product descriptions that more than likely break every rule of advertising ever conceived.


LED SONIC SHOWERHEAD (http://www.daftgadgets.com/color-changing-shower-head.html)

Now you can shower under one of dozens of flavors of Cool Aid! Wait…it’s just light? Darn it. Well…we guess that’s still cool.

The LED Sonic Showerhead shows you the temperature of the water by lighting up. Why is it called the ‘Sonic’ Shower? Does it clean you with sonic waves? Does it play the greatest hits of the Bee Gees? No. There is absolutely no reason for ‘sonic’ to be in the name other than the fact that the cascade of rainbow colors is music to the eyes. (That and we have fond memories of scenes from Star Trek where the sonic shower is incorporated into the story)

Now your tap water will glow with all the colors of the spectrum. The glacial blue probably means cold and we’re going to go out on a limb and say that lava red likely represents hot. As for the neon green, that’s got to mean your water is radioactive, right? And yellow? Well let’s just say you probably don’t want to be under the yellow shower.

The LED Sonic Showerhead will always let you know the temperature of a shower before you jump in. Great for people who’ve suffered from neurological damage and can no longer distinguish between hot and cold. Or maybe you need a showerhead to go with your pulsating disco lifestyle?

And did we mention that there are no batteries required? How does it produce light then? We have no idea!!! But it’s probably safe…maybe. (just kidding, it uses water pressure to light the LEDs)

The LED Sonic Showerhead is the next best thing to bathing in flavored sugar water and may possibly be powered by Carebear magic!


PHONE CASE BOTTLE OPENER (http://www.daftgadgets.com/bottle-opener-case-for-iphone-4.html)

Never make another sober phone call again with the Bottle Opener Case for iPhone 4!

Why does your high-end electronic device need a bottle opener attachment? There are many, many excellent reasons. And we’d tell you all about them…but we’re all pretty wasted right now. No, just kidding (mostly).

Maybe smart phones are just a little to techish for you and installing a manual pry bar to wedge open bottles of alcohol on state of the art communications equipment makes you feel less nerdish?

Maybe you frequent a lot of parties full of hotties and you just like to be prepared? This way you can get their numbers, take their picture and open their drinks all at once. If only it had a lighter built in it would literally be the perfect device.

Or maybe you need a bottle opener phone case because you’ve got the best job in the world and every Friday the whole office gets hammered. It must be great working for Google.

To top it all off, this stylish, high quality case comes with a free app that counts the beers you crack open, displays images from your library, and plays songs/sounds of your choice every time you use the bottle opener.

Getting drunk? Now there’s an app for that too!


CHOCOCASE (http://www.daftgadgets.com/chococase-for-ipod-amp-iphone.html)

Get a Sweet Case For You’re Sweet Tech

What better way to keep your sweet new iPhone safe than by incasing it in real, edible chocolate? (please note: this product is not edible nor is it chocolate) The Chococase is a hollowed out bar of delicious milk chocolate made from the finest coco beans that the poor farmers of sub-Saharan Africa can pick for less than a dollar a week. (umm…NO!?! it’s made from durable silicon) The chocolate acts as a natural insulator to keep your phone from over heating and the inherent elasticity of this dark confectionary treat will keep it safe from nicks and bumps. (plastic!!! not chocolate!)

The sleek new smart phones are incredible, but they need to be protected. There’s nothing worse than a huge scratch across you’re top end communication/music/gaming device. The Chococase looks delicious and will keep your tech pristine too. It makes a great gift for chocoholics, diabetics (ok, no, probably not) or oompa loompa’s. Maybe you need to smuggle a phone to your boyfriend in prison. This probably won’t work in the slightest, but it’s sure to get a chuckle out of the guards before they arrest you.

The Chococase for iPhone 4…it’s totally real chocolate! (no, it’s not! stop saying that!)

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Stop Light

(This is the kind of blog I would write if I was high)

I stopped at a traffic light today. Something about it transfixed me. Something indelible, profound, and deep. I was watching the sign sway in the breeze. A box of lights suspended from a black cable bobbing gently up and down in the rainy morning against a cold gray and blue sky. The meaning of life is hidden somewhere in that scene. Maybe we’re all traffic lights swaying to the currents of the world. The transition of colors might represent the natural cycles of our lives. Maybe we’re all just as predictable. Never green for long enough, always turning yellow when you least expect it and glowing angry red for longer than you should be. I sat there watching, thinking, learning from the wisdom of it all.

The red light held me in its thrall. I waited, anxious, balancing on the edge of anticipation. Seconds grew into unfathomable lengths. They became eras, eons, epochs. I knew green was coming. Any moment now. The drama built with the slow tension of a winding spring. And what would I do when the red light faded to black and the green glow shown down upon me? The rule of red is stillness, patience, humility. The law of green is action, motion, progress. Would I pass beneath the emerald blaze as I had done countless times before? Could I do anything but obey the unspoken command? Was I free to choose? And if not, did that make me a slave?

Before I could ponder further, one shine winked out of existence and it’s opposite flared bright above me. Suddenly, I was staring into the great green eye of order, the jade pupil of law and discipline. I did not budge though, I did not bend, I did not break. None may command me. I am my own. I bow before no ideal, I succumb to no one’s rule, not even my own. I would sit belligerently beneath the baleful lime stare for as long as it pleased me to do so. I would not be moved.

Apparently there were cars behind me. I hadn’t seen them nose up to my bumper but a few moments after the traffic light erupted with verdant incandescence, they chose to announce themselves. The shrill beep and sharp cry of horns took flight into the chilly air like angry birds. Their honking grew in frequency, the rhythm became more frantic, soon the entire line of vehicles joined in. Were these motorists or a pack of steel wolves baying at the green moon? Were we all clockwork carnivores with souls of flesh and had I inadvertently become the head of their pack? I was at the front of the line, they knew better than to pass me on this one-lane street. Were their cries signs of submission? Was I the alpha motorist then? Is that what leadership is, I wondered. Is it the willingness to break rules, to think freely, to weather the storm of discontent and expectation? Those who obeyed blindly would always be followers, drones. I was convinced that the brave few who sat staring at green traffic lights were destined to lead.

Yes, I know some things. Deep, mind-boggling, life-changing stuff just leaps into my brain every now and again. I could pen a book about stoplights. I could rewrite the Toa Te Ching with everything I’d learned in those 140 seconds. I could have stayed there all day, watching, meditating, listening to the lesser motorists curse my mother. But I suddenly had the munchies. The world called to me.

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Open House

Open House

Is there any fate worse than being stuck with you’re exwife for three hours? I’d managed to last thirteen years. I’d fully planned to spend the next thirteen hiding under the blankets recovering. Alas, it was not to be.

Our son had an open house at a special school program he was trying to get into for computers. Exwife lady informed me that not everyone gets in and if we ever wanted to live off of our children one day then we’d better do everything in our power to get him into this thing. I could not find fault in her reasoning.

The open house was at three, she wanted to leave at two thirty, the school is ten minutes away, that equaled twenty minutes of standing around. I hate waiting for things. Especially because I’ll have to listen to exwife girl talk to people. She can’t help but to talk. She’d die if she couldn’t speak. But she’s crazy and if I have to listen to her ramble without the ability to make fun of her then I’ll go crazy(er). Yet she wanted to make sure we found a place to park so we were getting there early and that was that. Son boy informed her there’d only be thirty people or so. She vehemently disagreed.

“Yeah,” I added, “there could be thousands of people at this thing boy. You have no idea.”
The youngling and I laughed. Exwife chick was not amused.
“Keep laughing, but just remember son it’s you’re future he’s fucking up.”
She’s passionate bordering on fanaticism. So serious she’s dire. It’s cute. Everything is the end of the world. Every instance is an emergency. But I can still make her laugh. That’s one of my favorite things about her. I can make her laugh till it hurts. I think she hates me for that too.

As we pulled up there were 5 cars in the parking lot.
“I think I’m going to park in the empty field across the street so we don’t get blocked in.” More sarcasm. Strike two against exhusband guy.

We headed into the school. We’ve never been there. Our son has never been there. Exwife asks where the bathroom is. Without hesitation the boy points to a hallway on the left and says “They’re by the lockers.” They were nowhere near the lockers. They weren’t even in that direction. But his answer was so convincing even I thought he knew what he was talking about. That’s one of the great things about the kid. He thinks he knows everything…literally. Even when he’s making up shit it sounds like he knows exactly what he’s talking about. Confidence that borders on arrogance. He makes me so proud.

As was typical for this kind of function nobody knew where we were supposed to be so there was a lot of wandering around. It was good enough to kill twenty minutes which gladdened my heart. All the parents and their children eventually filed into a little auditorium. We live in a rural area. Everyone there was blue collar, except exwife woman. She’s got a PHD (almost). I was not impressed by the crowd. Sure, they probably all had like, jobs and stuff, but we were the smartest people there. The boy would have no trouble ruling these slackjawed hayseeds. He was already the smartest in his current school. Yes, he got nearly all F’s on his last report card, but that’s because he’s lazy and cocky, not dumb.

The woman speaking on stage with the pleated schoolgirl skirt above her knees had nice legs for a sixty-year old woman. In fact, I stared at her legs the whole time so I didn’t have to look at her. Her face was worn with a lifetime of wrinkles and worry. Bleaching your hair blond does not hide the grays, it only makes you’re mop look pale and flat. It was rather sad to see her trying so hard. Her shoes were lovely though. The exwife thought she looked great. It made me wonder how much women dress up just to impress other women, for certainly that old lady in her slutty school girl attire was not going to make much of an impression on the men folk.

She talked. Other people talked. I kind of listened. The exwife and son fought over papers. He wouldn’t let her hold them and she had no choice but to let him win because other people were watching and because he was her pride and joy. I let him have his way because I encouraged his arrogance every chance I got.

They told us that if our son got in to the program he’d get certificates in computer stuff, even some college credits. They also did a paid internship. Then they said our kids would be ‘cohorted’. I’m pretty sure that none of the country bumpkins in the room knew what ‘cohort’ meant much less ‘cohorted’ which isn’t a real word. And they didn’t really explain it till about an hour later which I thought was cute.

“Hey, lets impress these hicks by using fancy words they couldn’t possibly know because we just made them up!”

Apparently ‘cohorted’ means that when you’re kids are in this program they take all their classes with other kids in the program. Even you’re PE and you’re English and stuff. They describe it as a school within a school. So basically, you’re nerdy little kid won’t be mixed in with the general population. You’re awkward, socially inept spawn won’t have to associate with the regular halfwits in the school. They’ve isolated the smart kids from the regular kids. I found that highly amusing and stupid. I’m sure it helps the nerds not get beat up, but I feel social scaring is an important formative experience for a child. I wouldn’t be half the evil super villain I am today if it wasn’t for the pains and horror of high school. And now they’re going to deprive my son of this? Not that it matters. The boy isn’t nearly as awkward as I was so he’d have been fine. But these children are going to have to associate with regular people one day. They’re depriving them of important social interactions. And besides, my kid is just going to wail on them in PE. Nerd dodge ball? I’m sure dominating these spindly legged, four-eyed bookworms won’t add to my son’s already over blown ego. Not at all.

After that we toured different classes. The night wasn’t a total loss. I learned some stuff and there was a pretty little red headed mother who exchanged secret glances with me (or I was scaring her with my gawking, one of the two). Some of the kids currently in the program spoke to us. I was struck by two things. First of all my son was already a better public speaker and more outgoing than nearly all of these juniors and seniors. Secondly there were cute girls in this thing. Nerd culture had progressed greatly since my time. He’d do well here.

I secretly congratulated ex-wife girl for dragging us to this thing. She didn’t embarrass us too much, she made sure we got here and she filled everything out. Thank god for women folk and their irrepressible drive to perform menial tasks. She did good. On the way home I offered to buy everyone a burger. She replied;
“I think it’s the least you could do since you divorced me and pretty much ruined my life.”
On second thought, we’ve got left over pizza at home.

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My Son

My Son

This kid swaggers into my room with a few sheets of paper in hand. He’s around 13, fair skinned, shaggy brown hair, he can’t weigh more than a hundred ten. I think I can take him. His eyes are golden brown, intelligent and mischievous. He wears a pair of thick rimmed 1950’s Clark Kent glasses. Oddly enough, he keeps calling me ‘Dad’. I can’t possibly be this kids father though. First of all I’m not old enough to have kids. I still pass down the toy isle every time I go to Walmart. I watch cartoons. Read comics. Pull girls by the pigtails and then run. I’m no ones father. But besides all of those reasons, this kid is too good looking to be mine. Not that he doesn’t have some awkwardness about him. But there’s a bit of dashing handsomeness there that makes me jealous. A budding confidence that doesn’t belong to my gene pool. No, he can’t possibly be my child. He is the enemy.

His first mistake was waking me up during my siesta. I’d just come home from work and polished off half a roll of raw cookie dough. It was time for my evening nap. His second mistake was waving papers in my face. I snatched them away and reached for a pen so he’ll go away. There wasn’t a pen in my bed, which was odd. Only a box cutter…also odd.

“What have you done with my pen?” I accused, filling my words with as much accusatory venom as one can muster after being roused from a diabetic comma.
“There’s a pen right here, dad.”
“So you admit taking it!” I rip it out of his hand and begin to scrawl my signature across the bottom. I purposely misspell my last name so that none of this will hold up in court.
“Read it dad.”
“Pfffft…I gave up reading for lent.”

He won’t leave me alone though. He keeps imploring me to read…stuff. That’s the thing with having kids who couldn’t possibly be you’re kids, they always want you to read things. This little girl who claims to be my daughter used to bring me a dozen pages to sign every day. If she’d truly been my child she’d have learned to forge my name long ago and I told her so.

‘Read it’, he keeps saying. Read it read it read it. I’ve finally had enough. I throw him on the bed and begin to tickle him mercilessly.

“I’ll read it!” I shout. “I’ll read it with my fist! Is that what you want? Will that make you happy?”
I wrestle him till we’re both out of breath. Unfortunately this hasn’t deterred him in the slightest. He won’t leave me alone. So in an effort to get this kid away I glared at the page for a moment or two, making a concerted effort to not read it just out of spite. Yet a few stray words manage to slip into my addled brain regardless.

“It says something about Quiznos.” I mumble.
“What? No, ‘Quiz Bowl’ dad.” Then he points to his name which has been highlighted.
“What’s wrong? Subway not good enough for you?”
“No dad, I’m in ‘Quiz Bowl’. I’m one of only eight kids in the school to have gotten picked.”
I was terrible in school. Another strike against this imposter who claims kinship with me. He’s got another beating coming. I throw him down again tickling and beating him stupid all the while screaming, “Five! Five! Five dollar foot longs!”

Those people at Quiznos are so arrogant. So cocky. Just because their sandwiches taste good and they’re not cold and stuff they think they’re so much better than Subway. Now children who claim to be the spawn of my loins (but who have absolutely no proof) have apparently joined their ranks. What is this world coming to?

Finally the kid leaves. I’m exhausted. Drained emotionally and mentally. But fortunately there’s still half a roll of cookie dough in the fridge. I gorge myself on Pillsbury goodness letting the bliss of a sugary overdose purge my soul of all doubt and worry. I get a glass out of the cabinet. You can’t eat three pounds of raw cookie dough without the ice-cold lactation of bovines to wash it down. And then I see it. An empty milk bottle in the trash can. I fall to my knees and begin to sob. He drank it all. The little bastard managed to get in the final blow. He drank all the fucking milk. Maybe he is my son after all.

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