CI #91 -- Yahoo Mail Login Page

I use Yahoo Mail* primarily. Why? I can't really say, but I'm sure that at one point in time, I had a really good reason and that the reason is surely long gone. But hey, it's better than Hotmail.

Each time I go to sign in, I wonder Why is Yahoo Mail apparently used exclusively by residents of San Francisco's Mission District?**

"Just wait 'til you see my handsewn handbags covered with flaming teddy bears."

"I absolutely skateboard to my job at a social networking start-up. Absolutely."

"What, this? Oh, it's just my ironic baby. Whatev. It works better on my husband."

*Serious props seriously to Yahoo Mail for having used the sample address "free2rhyme@" since before this silly campaign.

**I have never been to San Francisco's Mission District. Or San Francisco, for that matter.

CI #90 -- Random fact about two people I don't care about

At the risk of sounding redundant, I just learned a random fact about two people I don't care about.

Who is Percy Grainger? Apparently a famous composer who changed the face of modern orchestration and blah, blah, blah (and was evidently a "perv").


But he's also Kevin Kline.


So there you have it. Also, if you're not reading Cracked, you should. It's nothing like the magazine that once tried to be Mad.

CI #89 -- The Brief Safe

Thanks to Dij for the tip on the most innovative use of tidey whities in decades, courtesy of Sears.


It appears Sears tried to copy something they thought Urban Outfitters would do but overshot by a mile, ending up in Spencer's Gifts territory -- the grundle of American mall culture.

Sure, there will be people who say, "You'd be crazy to keep cash in your underpants." To that I'd say, "Would you? Show me somewhere safer you can stash your money these days. With that jackhole Bernanke running things, we're all headed for the s---- anyway." (<-- that's what I would say.) There are myriad exciting points to debate here, but let's get to the most essential: Will the stained-underpants Brief Safe work?

Totally! But only if auteur-like attention to detail is maintained throughout your property. Five points are paramount.

1. Outside there must be at least three, and if at all possible four, pieces of plastic yard art. Garden gnomes won't suffice though. Too subtle. These must be arranged in such a way that appears haphazard but actually takes great care to maximize inconvenience to any intruder and/or prospective buyer of your house.

People must think you have nothing to steal. Bonus points if neighbors and friends are actively annoyed at your property.

2. Everything in your house must be dirty. Those glow-in-the-dark frost-able Daytona 500 beer mugs? Simply have to be stacked in the sink, covered in gunk. Otherwise, the logic of the ruse falls apart. I'm looking at you, ash tray.

Btw, did you see these things?! In case you didn't...



3. Let's be honest. You're really protecting your payload from your Old Lady so she won't steal it and give it to her Bum Son. So keep information at a minimum. Need to know basis, people. Feel free to play mind games and demand she do your laundry though.

4. Remember not to raid Brief Safe while buzzed on Milwaukee's Best in the hopes of procuring more Milwaukee's Best.

5. Relax on couch. Wearing Brief Safe, place hand in waistband, drinking in the benefits of true financial security.

CI #88 -- Flashbacks

Remember that time in high school when you dropped acid in your friend's [Insert: basement, bonus room, carpeted garage]? You had such grand plans to do something "really awesome" like watch [Insert: "The Wall," "Labyrinth," "Dumbo"], but you got lazy.

So you stayed up all night staring at the ceiling, which looked like [Insert: the sky, a circus, evil flowers], and watching infomercials.

Then you decided to raid the kitchen and briefly chowed down on [Insert: any embarrassing, brightly colored snack food] but quickly became more enthralled with the food's packaging than the food itself.

Then one of your friends seemed to "disappear" for a while, and when he came back had discovered that the throw pillow was "Lucifer." Then things got weird.

Remember? Well, you will after you watch this.

CI #87 -- Things that actually exist

What actually exists?

This does. Saw it near the curb on my street.

(Can't wait to get a phone with a better camera)

Of course, this isn't the most absurd example of movie merchandising, but it's up there. Did I mention that the movie exists too? Well, it does. For further ridicule of this practice, see Spaceballs. You really can't top that.

Perhaps the worst-hyped, most over-marketed movie ever was Jerry Seinfeld's Bee Movie. It almost single-handedly created a lasting distaste for the man -- a person High School Greg worshiped. That, combined with his comments during the Late Night Wars Pt. 2 really make me question owning Season1 on DVD.

But can you blame him? He was probably just covering his ass for the promo tour of Bee Movie 2.

Back to Bee Movie 1. For further reading: see any of the following...

The Bee Movie Happy Meal!...

The Bee Movie Bee Doll! Coming to arcade claw games near you 3 years ago, and probably still there.

The Bee Movie Cross-Promotion! -- I mean, totally organic guest appearance on 30 Rock...

("Photo" credit: http://www.videolife.tk/snapple/)

Not pictured: I'm pretty sure I have a Polaroid somewhere of the Bee Movie ride at Coney Island.

CI #86 -- Rewatching of Raising Arizona

Last night Katie and I took in a fine film known as "Raising Arizona." It had been a while. Worry not, though. It still holds up.

Early on I found myself thinking about... well, heavy s#!^: the cycle of poverty, recidivism, the disappearance of America's middle class, "that sumbitch Reagan in the White House," etc.

Then I began to relate to the story in a much different way -- as a relocated New Yorker. So what does this relocated New Yorker think of Hi and Ed's exploits?


Honestly, I'm jealous of their apartment. Look how much space there is between the TV tables and TV! Salad days, indeed. I desperately want their doublewide.

Now I'm well aware that I could have it worse. But just like their desire for the 5th quintuplet of a rich couple, a boy can dream.