Botswana Meat Commission FC

286 posts
Botswana Meat Commission FC created Crasstalk.com when he saw the need for a crowdsourced solution to capturing Osama bin Laden. His heroes include Nick Denton and all Bronies ever.

Gawkward: Poor Rupert Murdoch Edition

Gawkward is Crasstalk’s compilation of truly ridiculous/idiotic Gawker comments.

Today’s Gawkward contribution comes from the commenter MsAndreaDworkinIsInThaHouse after a nice post by Ryan Tate making the case that News Corp.’s new iPad-only news app was doomed to fail:

at least he’s trying. entrepreneurs take risks. that’s why some people are entrepreneurs and some people criticize them.

Well played, Ms. Dworkin! It’s so obvious that this Tate fellow is just some jealous pussy who’s afraid to start his own mom-and-pop multinational right-wing media death cult. Good job. Now let’s go make sure Bristol Palin doesn’t get voted off DWTS!!!1!!!

I’m still alive!

4LOKO tried, but was ultimately unsuccessful at killing me. I woke up at about 10 a.m. feeling a slight hangover but nothing exceptional.

So I ended up drinking almost three full cans of the stuff. To be honest, banning this drink is pretty ridiculous. I honestly don’t think it’s really any more dangerous than any other booze product. The caffeine makes for an extremely pleasant buzzed feeling at first, but eventually it wears off. 4LOKO won’t keep you up all night. After all, alcohol is a depressant and once all that caffeine and sugar metabolizes, your entire system crashes exactly like it would with just plain ol’ booze.

I ended up passing out on the couch at like 2 a.m. or so, then woke up at 4, chugged a glass of water and went to bed. Pretty much no different than what would have happened if I were putting back a bunch of beers.

In fact, I will go so far as to say that if 4LOKO actually came in smaller cans, it would be a very nice way to start a night out. If you only drink say, half a can, the caffeine won’t wreak havoc on your stomach and the buzz is really very pleasant.

Gawkward: Kim Kardashian Khredit Khard edition

So I’m thinking we should create a new running feature called Gawkward. It’s where we find the most insane, trollish and unintentionally hilarious Gawker comments and re-post them here for everyone’s enjoyment.

Here’s a fine specimen posted on the article about Kim Kardashian’s shady pre-paid credit card:

http://gawker.com/comment/32743291/

Just so I understand: gal who partied with Paris Hilton asn is daughter of OK Simpson knife hiding accomplice Robert Kardahsian, who got his by the Fates, and used that to parlay herself to fame by fucking a, horror, black giu,on tape, and then went on to whoring hereslf out on :reality tv based on those accomplisments is now a credit card selling thing (I knew this), that parens would allow their daughtes to have????? My parents were not the greatest, but I never felt the desperate need ofr fame and momey that would make me do all tht. And parents think this is an acceptable enough role model to get a credit card for their future teen mom/pole dancing/porn star daughters who will be in debt in the six figures by age eightenn due to the rampant materialism forced down their throats not tempered by the wise financial lessons of common sense parents?

This is why America is fucked. The poar bears on the melting ice caps, and the dehydrated baby elephant of aAfrica looking for a sip don’t have a fucking chance. I blame the parents and believe one must get a license to get pregnant or keep it, and not just based on a test from some state goverment bullsjt/ This is awful,

First of all, OK Simpson is just perfect in every way. Also, there may or may not be some sort of eugenics-esque appeal for state-sponsored sterilization at the end there. It’s hard to tell with all the “bullsjt.”

Show me on the doll where the TSA touched you

So the new right-wing talking point of the week is that suddenly the TSA’s pat-down methods go too far. Jalopnik today gave space to a truly ridiculous piece of whining by an aggrieved USAirways pilot:

For approximately five years I have been questioned, wanded and patted down every morning each day I report for work. I’ve asked for help with a solution, I’ve been through all the company and union channels to no avail.

So this has been a pressing concern of yours for FIVE YEARS, long before Obama was ever in office… yet it’s suddenly a pressing concern for you?

Approximately one year ago, I encountered something new called a groin check. This is where they run the back of their hands down your fly from top to bottom one inch to either side. I said I would allow this if they don’t touch my stuff. The screener accused me of being a “homophobe” and said he can’t guarantee he wont touch me in this area. I said then I can’t go through the check. I called the airline for direction and they agreed to assist me in finding a solution if I would JUST take the flight out. I allowed him his groin check and was so humiliated and enraged that I was pretty much useless in the cockpit, I was self-absorbed.

Yes! A professional airport screener running the back of his hand over the outside of his pants made this guy “humiliated and enraged.” So enraged that he admits he basically couldn’t do his job. This is an example of a professional pilot, one so overcome by the mental and emotional turmoil of a pat-down that he couldn’t be bothered to help fly the plane. Oh, and this guy is being trotted out by the Rutherford Institute, the millenarian Christian right-wing think tank (best-known for representing Paula Jones) that’s now supporting this idiot’s crusade against airport frottage.

This guy tells us how later on he refused the full-body scanner and so was forced to get a private screening.

I requested a private screening with the Captain as my witness (you always have the right to a witness.) They started in my shirt collar, went inside my pants waistband all the way around, up inside my crotch and squeezed around from the front each side and up the backside both sides. I was groped 4 times total! Next they rubbed my whole body down with a full palm pressure…including my buttocks and the front groin one inch either side of my fly.

That poor, poor captain. I can’t even imagine having this guy for a co-worker, being begged to follow him into his TSA pat-down like a child about to visit his eccentric uncle. And the way he describes it is hilarious. It’s like he truly believes that poor, poor TSA agent was turned on by the whole thing. Keep dreaming, dude.

Look, I’m not saying the TSA pat-downs are a great idea. There’s evidence that they’re simply not an effective way to screen passengers and people shouldn’t be treated like criminals, but this is idea that TSA employees are “groping” travelers is ridiculous. Alex Altman of Time.com notes that 81% of Americans are ok with the TSA pat-downs.

Today while the TSA’s director testified before Congress, George LeMieux, the Republican Senator from Florida, said “I’m frankly bothered by the level of these patdowns. I wouldn’t want my wife to be touched in the way they’re being touched.”

Think about that for a second. This is absolutely in-fucking-sane. We’re talking about patdowns, in an airport, with all clothes on. Not exactly a night at BMCFC’s house with candlelights and a Frankie Beverly tune. No one is getting their jollies from patting down some Republican senator’s wife’s FUPA. Does he get this upset when his wife gets a pap smear? He must want to punch her OB/GYN in the face every single time.

All this talk of shame and humiliation…. I’m starting to wonder if this is merely the lastest manifestation of America’s Puritanism.

So from now on, I propose a new Teabagger-friendly rule: All physical contact with another person will now be considered state-sponsored rape. It’s the only way to overcome our sinful desires.

Adventures with algorithms

Technology is wondrous. It allows us to make animated kitten gifs in mere minutes. It allows us to experience the raw brutal pleasure of German pornography. It allows us to steal music with a level of efficiency not matched since the time your town’s high school dropout kid plowed his El Camino through the front doors of Best Buy at 3 in the morning.

One thing it seems to really suck at, though, is determining the romantic compatibility of two human beings. In that respect, technology is nearly as bad as actual human beings.

Today, for shits and giggles, I decided to to do a “reverse match” search on Match.com of people who say they’re looking for someone like me. Match immediately tried to flatter me with sheer quantity. 1,622 results! I’m more desired than Jon Hamm wrapped in cupcake icing and bacon!

Once that immediate hit of ego-satisfying euphoria wore off, however, I took a closer look.

Here’s the entire profile of my third result:

About my life and what I’m looking for

im 5ft even redbone thick wit it 4tatts 2 gold teeth spotaneous outgoing silly at times good sense of humor easy to get along wit but just dnt rub me the wrong way then you will see that pisces side of me

I want to laugh at this awful dating profile, but I can’t! According to Match’s super high-tech algorithm, we should be a perfect match. This says more about me than her. I guess at this point the only question left to ask is….

What flavor of 4Loko should I bring on our first date? Is “purple” too fancy?

Comcast makes me want to stab a bunny

So about nine days ago my internet service at home started intermittently crapping out. Suddenly I’d lose service and it would stay down for an hour or so and then pop back up.

It kept doing this, so I called Comcast. I got through to tech support easily enough, and they were friendly, but they couldn’t call someone out to my house because there was already a general outage in the neighborhood. That policy actually kind of makes sense, unless someone WITHIN the troubled area has a more specific problem.

This went on for approximately five days.

FINALLY they set up a service call for today (Tuesday) between 11 a.m. and 3 p.m. Apparently they expected me to just take the day off from work and wait at home all day because they didn’t bother to call me when the repairman showed up, so I missed the appointment. THANK YOU, COMCAST. IT’S NOT LIKE I HAVE A JOB OR ANYTHING. I AM IN FACT THE HEIR TO THE KIBBLES ‘N BITS DOG TREATS FORTUNE AND NEVER HAVE TO WORK A DAY IN MY LIFE. IT IS QUITE LEISUREFUL. I SPEND EVERY SINGLE TUESDAY WITH ABSOLUTELY NO OBLIGATIONS OTHER THAN PLAYING CONTACT BRIDGE WITH A COLORFUL ASSORTMENT OF FILIPINO CARNIVAL WORKERS.

So now I’m not getting internet service restored until at least tomorrow. I hope you get fisted by a Kim Jong Il puppet, Comcast.

And one last thing, I know you’re trying to rehabilitate your company’s rep for completely shitting all over its customers, but just training them to be friendly is not enough. I don’t care if the lady sounds like a chatty Cracker Barrel waitress from Murfreesboro. I’d prefer a rude asshole who can actually fix my shit.

We are Billy Graham’s favorite writer!

Thanks to the fact that I switched to a ridiculously common WordPress theme, I was able to Google image search the dimensions of the header photo and got tons of random images from people’s goofy sites.

I was going to grab one from a Jew-fro’d lawyer who looked suspiciously close to Sean Penn’s character in Carlito’s Way. But like my pappy always said:  If you’re going to blatantly steal, try to steal from greatest writer in the evangelical world. He’s probably much less likely to sue you than the Rosenbaum Law Firm of Jersey City, N.J.