I'm not sure exactly where this video takes place, but we should move there. It looks fun. "Do you want to meet up for a drink after work?" "Well, first of all, there's no such thing as work, and second of all, sure, I'll meet you at the vodka factory, just give me 15 minutes to get this manatee into his Heelies."
I'm not sure that the personal and public health ramifications of deep frying butter under any circumstances (county fair or no) are worth the injurious risk to both this little boy and the world at large in return for this magical dance. Somehow it seems an uneven and dangerous trade. And yet, the magical dance is here now, and we have nothing to do but to enjoy it. MAGIC DANCE MAGIC DANCE! MAGIC DANCE FOR YOUR BUTTER TREAT! (Via TheAwl.)
KEVIN JAMES! STOP IT! I KNOW YOU ARE AN ARTIST WITH AN IMPORTANT VISION, BUT AT WHAT COST, KEVIN JAMES? AND WHERE DOES IT END? From the AP:
Two movie-star monkeys and crew members of the Adam Sandler film "The Zookeeper" are among the 300 guests who were evacuated from a Boston hotel after carbon monoxide alarms went off.
Fire Department spokesman Steve MacDonald says a small boiler leak at the luxury Liberty hotel prompted elevated readings at around 9:30 a.m. Wednesday. He says the leak was fixed early afternoon.
MONKEYS SHOULD NOT BE IN HOTELS, KEVIN JAMES! MONKEYS SHOULD BE AT HOME WITH THEIR PARENTS. THIS IS GETTING OUT OF HAND.
Oh babies. With their malleable approach to language and their fixation on the minute bodily functions that govern their day-to-day lives. Of course, within the blink of history's eye, these little angels will be sitting on a ratted out couch with a glass of whiskey in their hand, drips of condensation leaving damp rings on the work trousers they couldn't be bothered to change out of, staring blankly at a humming television as they listlessly riffle through the mental cold case file of their dreams, wondering where it had all gone. Maybe they will heat something in the microwave, it's the more sensible option. They eat out more than they can afford already. They do everything more than they can afford. No one ever told them it would be like this. By then, a bathroom will no longer represent the monumental task of the day, but perhaps a momentary reprieve from the drudgery of their desk, a brief and silent (almost) escape from a haranguing boss, or the dull throb of a post-lunch headache, anything to get away for a moment. Sometimes they sit on the toilet even when they don't have to go, just for the brief spell of hard-fought lightening of despair. But all that is still a few inevitable and not-as-boundless-as-they-seem years away. For now, A CELEBRATION OF WEES AND BUTTS! (Via FourFour.)
It is a shame that someone thought it would be funny to denigrate the noble sport of horse racing by naming their horse Hoof Hearted. That is not funny, sir, it is disgusting. To think of all the respect that the sport has earned over the years, casually thrown away on the adolescent whim of a man-child. The fellows at the local OTB can hardly even finish their brown-paper-bags of rotgut whiskey and malt liquor. Their shame and disgust at this betrayal from one of their own is almost enough to make them put down their chits and go home to their families. Almost. They'll take their chances that the next horses have more noble names. Cheesecake Pie, and Doctor Mouth, and Little Balls. They'll keep gambling for today, in their tattered suits and their smeared coveralls, but please be more careful. Ah, if you'll excuse me, Tony just threw up in one of the cashier window pass-throughs. I think I've made my point, gentlemen. (Thanks for the tip, Becca.)
The fact that he keeps calling a grown woman a "little girl" is some pretty heavily-coded (or lightly-coded?) racist shit, but everything else that comes out of this kid's mouth is basically gold. Bacon is good for him! She acts like she is the queen and they are the sorry people! He is coming to the edge! He keeps losing at deals and he doesn't want to make a deal anymore! He's packing his bags! Someone should tell him that bacon is for closers. And that storming out angrily is much more effective without a My First Thomas the Tank Engine suitcase. (Via UniqueDaily.)
Cute. The best part of this, obviously, is the protective ear muffs. Good thinking. You can do a lot of damage to your hearing out in the noisy Flowbee fields all day. Tricks of the trade.
As the Movement to End Fake Rap continues apace, it's nice to be reminded that there are still some real MCs out there. They know that hip hop is a way of life, not some advertising gimmick. Hip hop is the language of the street, and if its message is violent and hard that is because life is violent and hard. It's so cold in the D. It's not all riding bikes down by the church and dancing with your friends in front of your older brother Toby's car. I mean, sometimes it is those things. Like, this time it is those things. MIDWEST 4 LYFE. But it's not always those things. Ron D holding it down for his homies over at Chester Elementary.
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