The Life & Times of Bryan Fantana

That Time I Dug to the Center of the Earth and Found Dinosaurs

2011-05-22T16:00:00.001-04:00

~ Article by Bryan Fantana

I had a strange childhood. Most children spent their summers shooting basketball, going to camp, watching television, or playing video games. I spent my summers digging holes. There was a spot between the shed and the neighbor’s fence. It was a little spot tucked out of the way. There was no grass there. I could dig and dig without tearing up the yard. I think my dad was the one who gave me the idea to dig holes there. I guess he thought a shovel would be a better role model than he could ever be. Besides, the backyard sloped toward that corner of the yard. A river of water and soil would fill in my hole after a few summer thunderstorms. I think my dad realized my Sisyphean task would keep me occupied indefinitely. Not that I complained. I enjoyed digging. I was working with my hands and I could see immediate results of my hard work.

One year we had a particularly dry summer. I got to dig and dig. Days went by. I stopped only to sleep and to eat. It did not take long for the hole to become deeper than I was tall. I kept digging. I borrowed my Dad’s ladder to get in and out of the hole.

One particularly hot day, I spent the whole day just digging. I flung shovelfuls of dirt up and over the edge of the hole for hours. The sun was setting. I climbed a rope back to the top. I went inside the house and got a bucket and a flashlight. Under the illumination of that tiny incandescent bulb, I filled my bucket with dirt, climbed up the rope, and dumped the bucket onto the dirt pile. Soon the dirt pile was taller than the shed. I had become determined. I wanted to see how deep I could make this hole.

Then I noticed the ground shift. I was gradually sinking. Then the dirt beneath my feet gave way. I grabbed the rope just in time. I tried climbing up but I was too weak from those hours of digging. I was terrified to look down. My feet were dangling in the air. Then I heard a voice.

“What is this Mary?”

“Why, it appears to be a human boy?”

I looked around. Strangely I could see. There was plenty of light in the hole now. Then I saw them. Two pterodactyls.

“Mary, what should we do about this?”

“Margret, I think we should take him to Archbishop Douglas.”

Margret grabbed me with her beak. I struggled but she managed to pull me from the rope. My fists were swinging madly in a vain attempt to break free.

“Now little one,” she said to me. “I don’t think you want me to let you go. Just look down.”

I was scared of heights and was trying not to look down. I already knew I was high up. But, like a kid with a fork drawn to an electrical outlet, I knew I had to look. I looked down. Below me was the largest drop I had ever seen. I was scared, but excited. Now this was a hole. Above me was a ceiling of dirt, rocks, and tree roots. At the very bottom was a light. It felt warm like the sun, but it was not as bright.

In the distance were floating islands of rock and dirt. Margret and Mary took me to one of the largest of the floating islands. The top of the island was covered in a tropical forest. In the middle of the island stood a large stone castle. We flew into one of the castle’s oversized windows. Margret plopped me in the middle of a large gallery. The two winged creatures flew away. I heard them say something about getting pedicures. I walked around the enormous room. The walls were covered in paintings of various dinosaurs dressed in robes and crowns. “Are these really dinosaurs?” I thought to myself. “How long have they been here?” I saw a large figure approach from an adjacent room.

“Welcome, welcome!” exclaimed the creature. I recognized him from school. He was a brontosaurus. I would later find out that brontosauruses never really existed. I don’t care what they say. This was a brontosaurus, and he was wearing a crown. “What is your name?”

“My name is Bryan,” I told him. I knew I was not supposed to talk to strangers, but I had a feeling Mom would not mind me talking to a stranger if he was a talking dinosaur in a crown. “Where am I?”

“You are in my kingdom beneath the surface world. Welcome to the Moho Realm. I am Archbishop Douglas.”

“Are you a dinosaur?”

He laughed at my question. “Of course I am. Are you a human?”

“Yes sir.”

“Say, how did you get here?”

“I was digging a hole in my backyard when I accidently found myself here. Those two pterodactyls brought me here.”

“You were just digging in your backyard and you found your way to the Moho Realm?” He chuckled to himself. “We have kept our existence here a secret for nearly 65 million years, and then a small human boy stumbles into our dominion.”

“In school they told me you all died when a meteor hit the Earth.”

“That’s what our ancestors told Lenny. ‘Oh no! There is a giant meteor heading this way and we are all gonna die. Ahh!’ That stupid plesiosaur bought it. When he swam back home to hide under his bed, our ancestors dug a tunnel to the planet’s core and we have been hiding here ever since.”

“But why would they tell Lenny that -”

“Nobody really liked Lenny. He talked too much and smelled like archaeopteryx poo. Little human, we dinosaurs are fearful of direct confrontation. So we just decided to avoid him by hiding out here.”

“How do you know Lenny is still around?” I asked.

“Well … we don’t. Some say they have seen him hiding in a lake somewhere, but none of us want to venture back to the surface only to find out Lenny is still around. Then we have to explain everything to him, and talk about your awkward situations!”

A stegosaurus in gold plated armor approached Archbishop Douglas.

“Sir, the rains are fast approaching,” he proclaimed. “We need to return the boy to the surface realm.”

The Archbishop whistled and Margret and Mary returned.

“I need you two to take our visitor back to the hole before the rainwater fills it in.”

Margret grabbed me in her beak and we sped away. I could hear Archbishop Douglas tell me, “Come back soon young Bryan!” The roar of thunder rattled the dirt ceiling above us. We did not have much time. Marget and Mary beat their wings as fast as they could. When Margret’s wings started to give out, she passed me to Mary. We could see the hole. Not much further. Some rain was dripping in from the opening. “We’ll never make it!” Margret cried out.

Then I woke up. I was at the bottom of the hole beside the shed. It was dark and raining. I reached down and could feel dirt and mud. Was I dreaming? I staggered to my feet and slowly climbed the rope out of the hole. Mom gave me a thorough lecture about tracking mud into the house. I washed up and crawled into bed.

Why We Need a Moon Base Now More than Ever

2011-05-01T15:54:00.005-04:00

~ Letter by Bryan Fantana

My fellow Americans,

If you are reading this, either you are a frequent visitor to moonbaseparty.org, you accidentally stumbled upon this website while searching “how to get out of an IRS audit”, or you finally earned enough points to use the computer at the Jeremiah Mental Health Center of Carroll County Tennessee. In any case you are undoubtedly familiar with America’s current political climate. Folks like the Tea Partiers, the Birthers, and the British hog much of our airwaves. They spew their angry tirades, their paranoid conspiracy theories, and their fashionable hats upon our televisions, our newspapers, and even on our webnets. I speak for many citizens in this great nation when I say, “We are tired of it.”

Now don’t get me wrong. I have no plans of actually fixing this problem. Life has taught me to never get into an argument that no one can win. No one can convince these people their ideas are completely wrong. Even if you could, they would merely mutate their talking points and recombine them to form another baseless argument. Voices will once again go hoarse from hours of screaming their new opinions, and droves of followers will take their every last word as gospel. “You know Obama is actually a Portuguese lobster, right?” some guy at the hardware store will ask me. “We need to stop taxing the wealthy altogether,” some female news commentator will say to the camera while wearing an oversized hat the looks suspiciously like an upside-down replica of the USS Enterprise. Yeah, fuck that. I am not dealing with it.

Instead I propose another solution to this problem. Let’s get the hell off this rock. Earth is doomed anyway. Despite “inconclusive evidence”, our environmental destruction will eventually wreck the world’s climate to an unsalvageable degree. Our natural resources will run out and our planet will become overpopulated. Another home world would be nice chance to start over. We could get it right this time.

“But if we leave Earth,” you ask, “where will we go?” I was pondering this one morning while watching television in my smiling moons pajamas and eating my special moons-only bowl of Lucky Charms. The History Channel was playing footage of the Apollo 11 moon landing. “Maybe we can live in Buzz Aldrin’s house,” I thought to myself while shoveling another spoonful of blue moons into my mouth. “That isn’t nearly far enough away,” I concluded. I glanced around the room at my detailed diagram of the Apollo landing sites, my many crayon doodles of the Moon, and my mural of the Moon embracing me in her loving arms. Then I got an idea. I had an idea so crazy it could not possibly fail. Let’s get the hell off this rock and move to a smaller, colder rock. Let’s build a Moon base!

By moving to the Moon, we could get some distance (roughly 375,000 km on average) between ourselves and the insanity we will leave behind on the Earth. We can still remain close to Earth in case we forget to pack something and have to go back. Moon inhabitants can use the lunar laser cannons to destroy any incoming vessels containing neo-conservatives or other undesirables. Plus we will maintain significant distance between ourselves and Mars, which my sources indicate is controlled by giant, school bus-sized wasps and the ghost of Vladimir Lenin.

Of course one may ask “How do we keep the undesirables from boarding the shuttles to the Moon?” Bouncers will screen passengers using the Tortoise Test. The Tortoise Test works by determining a person’s logical thinking abilities and emotional empathy. The subject is asked a simple hypothetical question:

You are in a desert, walking along in the sand, when all of a sudden you look down and see a tortoise. You reach down and you flip the tortoise over on its back. The tortoise lies on its back, its belly baking in the hot sun, beating its legs trying to turn itself over, but it can’t. Not without your help. But you’re not helping. Why are you not helping the tortoise?

There is no correct answer to this question. But there are some bad answers. Unacceptable answers include:

“The tortoise made less than $30,000 a year.”

“I am not going to help a tortoise that cannot help itself.”

“The tortoise needs choices so it can determine for itself the best way to get up.”

“That tortoise supports gay marriage.”

If any of these answers are given, the subject will be expelled from the launch platform by means of catapult.

I am fully aware there are some financial issues behind building a Moon base. We here at the Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America are working tirelessly on this issue. We have now developed a financing plan for the lunar installation and the necessary shuttle craft. First, NASA is about to retire their entire shuttle fleet. We expect a huge clearance sale in August. Second, I am pretty sure I have a coupon for buy one, get one free on kilometer-long plasma cannons, which are just as good as conventional laser cannons. Finally, we have discovered that NASA will take credit cards. We hope to charge Donald Trump’s credit card and get to the Moon base before he notices the bill.

I look forward to seeing you on the Moon!

Sincerely,
Bryan Fantana
President, The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America

Rebecca Black's Test

2011-03-18T06:00:00.005-04:00

Rebecca black test

View more documents from Bryan Fantana.

Normally I use SlideShare to upload files. However, SlideShare has notoriously been a little bitch. Therefore, I trying to find another file sharing service. If you have any suggestions, let me know.

Movie Review: Expelled

2011-02-20T13:52:00.004-05:00

~ Review by Bryan Fantana

I am a witness to many terrible movies. I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Teenagers turned into vegetables. Racist talking babies and Scott Baio. I watched Art Carney and a cast who should have known better butcher Star Wars through the medium of television variety show. All those memories will forever be wedged into the folds of my mind where they shall slowly decay whatever is left of my sanity. But lo, how I was unprepared for what my eyes would gaze upon while watching Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed.

I have seen “documentaries” and YouTube rants on both sides of the Intelligent Design argument (I am using “argument” here as I cannot find a word in the dictionary that means “two cats simultaneous vomiting on one another”). In other words, I went into this movie expecting shit. You and I both already know Expelled is going to denounce evolution and promote Intelligent Design. The writers will use terrible logic and the worst of evidence (Google “The Atheist’s Nightmare”). I was expecting at least something that resembled an argument and possibly some decent production from a movie that actually made it to theaters rather than just the YouTube homepage. However that is not what we get with Expelled. Instead we get incoherent ramblings and impenitent manipulation.

I could write pages tearing apart these arguments, but why bother. Quite frankly, I stopped caring. What I find more interesting is how bad the film itself is. I want to focus on the film as the documentary it is trying to be.

The Movie as a Movie

In this independent film, Ben Stein explains … let’s stop right there. This film is narrated by Ben Stein, a guy whose acting career is based around his painfully monotone voice and his attempts at dry humor. Ninety-seven minutes of his agonizing voice are enough to earn any film a special place in Movie Hell. I discover that after a few Excedrins you can stop the anguish long enough to actually hear what he is saying. Then, you have to restrain yourself from downing the rest of the bottle.

After Stein’s narration, the next big problem with the movie is structure. The movie is all over the place. It is as if the editors stockpiled footage and then spliced them together alphabetically. In fact, the movie’s lack of structure is making it painfully difficult for me to write this review. Another related problem is pacing. Unfortunately I left my bullshit filter on before starting the film. The rapid-fire volley of interviews and hollow rhetoric overloaded my brain. It forced me to pause the DVD every five minutes to let my mind processes the queue of incoming garbage.

The interviews themselves are awful. Half of the frames focus on Ben Stein and his immense eyebrows as they react to a guy from the Discovery Institute saying “Evolution doesn’t have all the answers.” Stein’s role in all of these interviews is to ask baiting questions. He will ask “Doesn’t Darwin explain … ?”, then the interviewee will respond with profound but nonsensical statements like “It’s not the whole picture!”. Then we have to watch Stein fake a eureka moment while the two wooly caterpillars on his face are mating. Occasionally the interviews are punctuated by stock footage of 60’s educational films or Ben Stein trying to be funny in a classroom.

Support for Intelligent Design

The only supporting argument for Intelligent Design comes to us at the beginning. Not the beginning of the movie. The beginning of the DVD menu. Before the menu options appear on the screen, we are treated with a thirty second clip of Ben Stein in a middle school biology class. Stein asks the instructor, “Why did life begin in the first place?” (Notice the baiting “why”.) After the instructor stumbles to answer, Stein rhetorically answers his own question with the question “Could there have been an intelligent designer?” The screen cuts to a sassy black girl giving a “mmhmm” head shimmy approval. That is it. Their entire argument is based on “Why not?” Here is another argument to consider. All of the elementary subatomic particles are made from very tiny manatees and Ewoks playing volleyball. Why not? My evidence for this? Why. The. Fuck. Not? So let’s review:

Premise 1: God created life

Premise 2: Why not?

------------------------

Conclusion: God rules!

At the very least, the film could have showed us examples of things in nature that the writers believed were designed. Show me a human eye and go, “This looks engineered.” Show me a banana and say, “This must have been designed by some guiding intelligence.”

Bashing Evolution

Expelled seems to be confused about what evolution is. For clarity, TheFreeDictionary.com (as well as every other dictionary and textbook I have ever found) define evolution as “noun. Change in the genetic composition of a population during successive generations, as a result of natural selection acting on the genetic variation among individuals, and resulting in the development of new species.” The film starts by denouncing evolution and claims modern scientists are holding steadfast to an idea which has been confirmed to be false. One guest even boldly declares that scientists do not know what a species is. They cast doubt as to whether natural selection alone could have caused life to appear as it does on Earth. Then, a later interviewee says evolution and natural selection can explain changes within a species, but not the formation of new species. A few minutes later another guest says that evolution is correct and can explain everything … except the origin of life on Earth … and therefore it is wrong again. When making a good argument, start with defining certain vocabulary words like “evolution” and “intelligent design”. Then stick with those definitions. Even if your definition for evolution is wrong, go with it. Changing the meaning of words mid-film shows everyone you have no idea what you are talking about.

By the end of the movie, Expelled claims the theory of evolution is the cause of communism, atheism, fascism, the Holocaust, and eugenics (the last three are the focus of the last third of the film). Comparisons are made between scientists rejecting Intelligent Design and the Soviets building the Berlin Wall. The word “freedom” is uttered frequently throughout the film. None of this is arguing or debating. This is name calling. Very bad name calling at that. “Booger breath” is a more clever insult.

Not using the G-word

Ben Stein and the pro-ID folks are careful to not directly say “God did it” or show any signs of a religious agenda. They fail miserably. During his interview with scientist Richard Sternberg, Stein sits a rhetorical softball on the tee for his guest to knock out of the park. Stein asks “Isn’t Intelligent Design just saying God did it?” Sternberg responses with “Not necessarily […] Intelligent design is a minimal commitment, scientifically, to the possibly of detecting intelligent causation.” That is the kind of statement which makes blood gush from most people’s eye sockets. It is like saying, “That is no horse. That is a large hooved mammal which has four legs, a short-haired coat, a mane, a tail, and a love of sugar cubes that has been domesticated since ancient times by man to aid in carrying loads, to leisurely ride on sunny days, and to frighten small children.”

Conclusion

I knew this movie would be terrible, but I was astonished by just how terrible. I went into this expecting a film with weak arguments base

d on lousy premises. What I got was over an hour and a half of poorly-developed commentary I could have read in the comments section of a YouTube video. In this film there is no argument, supposed argument, or reheated bean curd masquerading as an argument. While it boldly declares “let’s debate this”, the film never really tries to make an argument. It is mere name calling. I expected better than this, especiall

y from someone with Ben Stein’s prestigious background. Regardless of their beliefs, he and the other writers of the film could have at least tried to make an argument. Perhaps they truly believe they made a good film. In which case, God help us all.

Rating

I give this film the back half of a Jesus fish.

Bus Floor Christian Literature and the Dumbest Analogy Ever

2011-01-02T23:00:00.009-05:00

~ Article by Bryan Fantana

Early in this website’s history, I reviewed a series of three religious pamphlets I found in a hospital restroom. There is a very high standard of journalistic integrity on this website. I titled my reviews “Bathroom Christian Literature”. Since then my eyes will scan every public restroom I enter looking for more booklets. Most of what I find is fairly typical. “Homosex is bad”, “Jesus is good”, “Sinners burn in hell”. Recently I found two magazines lying on the floor of a bus. I scooped them up on my way to an empty seat. One of them showed some signs of damage, perhaps from a misplaced footstep. But otherwise they were in good condition. I slipped them into my backpack and chuckled a little to myself. It looked like I had some new source material.

The magazines were printed by a Jehovah’s Witnesses organization. One magazine was the December 1 2010 issue of The Watchtower Announcing Jehovah's Kingdom and the other magazine was a December issue of the compilation magazine Awake!. Awake! and The Watchtower are some of the most widely circulated magazines in the world. Most of the content inside these issues was your typical stuff. “Homosex is bad,” “Jesus is good”, “Sinners burn in hell”. But there was one article in the Awake! magazine that caught my attention.

The article is titled “The Bible’s Viewpoint: Why Doesn’t God Get Rid of the Devil?” A really damn good question. As the article mentions, the Devil is “the one who is responsible for untold human suffering.” Thus the article relates to the more general “problem of evil” which daunts many philosophers and theologians. The problem of evil is a contradiction in the following commonly held beliefs in the Western world:

1. There is a cool sky dude we call God

2. God has the super power of omniscience

3. God has the super power of omnipotence

4. God has the super power of omnibenevolence

5. Bad shit happens

If all of these are true, then we run into problems. We see suffering and evil in the world all the time. It is rare for anyone to doubt this, so we shall take Statement 5 to be true. Now we have a cool sky dude (Statement 1) who can see that there is suffering the world (Statement 2), who can do something about it (Statement 3), and who cares about the suffering (Statement 4). Yet bad shit happens anyway. This makes no sense and has plagued every religion since the Greeks, who realized their gods were pricks, and they learned to live with it. The atheistic treatment is to assume Statement 1 is false and God does not exist. Other folks will take one or more statements between 2 and 4 as false. Perhaps there is a God, but he cannot do everything or he cannot see everything or he is a prick.

Some people would argue God uses evil to achieve His goals or teach humanity a lesson. This is incredibly stupid.

Back to the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Maybe these guys have cracked the problem. Maybe they can explain why there is a Devil, the one causing this ruckus. If cool sky dude is such a nice guy, why does he let this douchebag ruin everybody’s day at the beach? Let us hear what the article has to say.

To help answer the question, you might visualize a prominent court case.

(Open up http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7i TqoDH0vFU and play it as you read along)

The murderer, desperate to halt the proceedings, claims the judge is dishonest in the way he presides over his own courtroom, and he asserts that the jurors are being bribed by the judge. So countless witnesses [that’s a lot] are allowed to provide testimony.

The judge knows that the extensive proceedings will cause much inconvenience [a “countless” amount to be precise], and he would like to have the case concluded with out undue delay. Yet, he realizes that to arrive at a judgment that will set a precedent for possible future cases, both parties must be allowed sufficient time to present their side of the dispute.

Here God is the judge and the Devil is the murderer. I think. I am picturing God as Judge Judy and the Devil as the guy with over ten grand in back child support. But who is the prosecution? Jesus? That has to create a conflict of interest. Does the Devil have an attorney? His attorney is Jewish, isn’t he? The article continues.

Originally the one who became the Devil was a perfect spirit person [what the fuck does that mean?], one of God’s angels. He made himself the Devil when he became obsessed with a selfish ambition to be worshipped by humans [and by donning a bed sheet and flying around the room]. So he challenged God’s right to rule, even insinuating that God does not deserve to be obeyed. He charged that humans serve God only when bribed with blessings.

So wait. Maybe it is God who is on trial and the Devil is the prosecution? We are the jury. But then God is also the judge, so I think we all know how this will turn out. “That Devil character raises some good points. I have been a total dick. I’ll sentence myself to five-to-nine in the pokey.”

Such accusation from Satan required responses that could not be answered simply by a show of force. In fact, executing the Devil in the garden of Eden would perhaps have suggested to some that the Devil was right. So God, possessing absolute authority, began legal proceedings to settle such issues in the minds of all observers.

Alright, so God is the prosecution and the judge? But He is God. Why does God need to file legal proceedings? He could execute the Serpent in the Garden of Eden, appear in the clouds before humanity every couple of years, and remind them how he is still the cool sky guy. Maybe do something nice. Buy everyone an ice cream bar. Then let people have free will. When one of them molests a child or takes a dump in a church confessional, He could isolate and deal with the perpetrator. God the third grade school teacher. Little Johnny puts paste in Susie’s hair. Johnny is going to get a time out. And God would not have to be a dick about it. He would not have to burn Johnny alive. A simple “Use your head. How would you like it if paste was in your hair?” will do. That would still command respect and love.

In harmony with his principles and perfect justice, Jehovah God indicated that each party would produce witnesses who would give supporting testimony to its side of the controversy. This time allowed has given Adam’s decedents [that is us!] a chance to live [I think we are still dying] and to add their testimony in God’s behalf by choosing to keep integrity to him out of love despite any hardships. [God, you are not so good at selecting witnesses.]

Jehovah God is keenly aware that while those legal proceedings take place, humans continue to suffer. Yet, he is determined to close the case at the earliest time possible … When the issues are finally settled, Jehovah’s right to rule will have been thoroughly vindicated.

What is He waiting on? God already knows who is right. Him. Apparently we already know who is right. Are we the jury? No, we are witnesses. Err, no the evidence. The Watchtower, your analogy is a complete failure. Not only did you manage to not communicate your deep theological argument in simple terms, but you also found a way to confuse me even more. On the plus side, I did make a religious revelation. I like my God like I like my Nancy Grace: Not taking shit off anybody. He makes up His mind long before the defendant speaks, and He is going to scald you for disagreeing with anything He says. Fuck this judicial shit.

Hey God, rip the Devil a new one, get rid of misery, and you will get all the praise you could ever want.

Recall of the iRenew

2010-12-26T11:00:00.009-05:00

~ Announcement by Bryan Fantana

Hello. My name is Bryan Fantana. It is with great sadness that I must inform you of a recall of the iRenew bracelet. You should not feel alarmed. Our products are 100 % certified safe when used as directed. However we are still being court ordered to issue a recall of the iRenew bracelet.

Some of our users have been experiencing adverse side effects from iRenew’s biofield feedback energy resonation. Some customers have reported calluses around their wrists, dizziness, nausea, indigestion, constipation, and trouble urinating. A few wearers have reported loss of hearing, temporary blindness, excess weight gain, urinary tract infections, decreased sexual performance, type 5 diabetes, permanent blindness, and necrophilia. Less than 1 % of users turned into pumpkins.

Earlier this week, Dr. Kysnekovskilata sent an e-mail to the Yahoo e-mail account of iRenew USA, the distribution center for the iRenew bracelet here in the United States. He and his Romanian colleagues have recently discovered an undesired property of the iRenew bracelet. It appears the patented iMeteorite is the carrier of a mysterious, black, gooey substance of alien origin that adheres to the wearer of the bracelet. Laboratory tests on mice have shown a ten fold increase in violent behavior and a 75 % increase in salivation. The altered creatures can replicate asexually and, as was the case with Dr. Kysnekovskilata’s laboratory, they can organize into an unstoppable army of ferocious alien-mouse hybrids which now ravages the Romanian countryside.

There is no reason to panic. Swedish scientists have shown intense sound and heat can weaken the creatures. Some of iRenew’s best and brightest have developed specialized loud speaker systems and flamethrowers for deployment in case of an uprising here in the US. The menace will be contained before it is ever becomes a danger to the public.

Several news outlets are linking the iRenew bracelets’ natural frequency energy balancing to signals which are emanating into deep space and which have summoned the great beast Gantron. Astrologers have feared his arrival as it means an almost certain demise of all life on Earth. The timing of the worldwide signal to Gantron and the global debut of the fashionable iRenew bracelet is merely coincidental.

If you feel concerned despite our 100 % satisfaction guarantee, you may return your iRenew. If your symbiote will allow it, place any unwanted iRenew bracelets into a titanium canister. At this time, the US Postal Service will not accept packages containing alien parasites. You will have to contact iRenew USA to arrange a pickup. Pickups are from Monday through Wednesday, 9 AM to 12 PM. Service is not guaranteed outside of Vermont. All pickups are subject to a $50 fee and compensation for miles driven.

Fantana for the iRenew

2010-12-19T14:00:00.006-05:00

~ Endorsement by Bryan Fantana

Christmas is almost here. If you are like me, you have been spending the past few weeks setting up that giant inflatable nativity scene in your front yard. Now you are stuck doing last minute holiday shopping. Don’t panic! I have just the solution.

Hello. My name is Bryan Fantana. I am here to tell you about a wonderful gift your whole family will love. It’s called the iRenew.

The iRenew is a state-of-the-art, energy balancing bracelet. The IRenew was designed by a team of former Russian magnet scientists to balance your body’s natural biofield using synchronized electromagnetic pulses. Hundreds of people, maybe even like a thousand people, have tried this wonderful product with fantastic results!

“This bracelet gives me so much energy. I feel like I could bench press my station wagon.” – Mark, 26

“The Irenew has helped me get to sleep fast and stay asleep longer.” – Mary, 38

“This is crazy! I can’t believe it worked!” – Michelle, 19

“It improved my golf game.” – Terry, 43

“The iRenew increased my sex drive and saved my marriage.” – Louis, 55

The power of the IRENEW can be yours too. For this limited time only, this one of a kind modern marvel is available for the special price of $19.99! And if you use your credit card when you call, we will throw in an extra Irenew for free! A second iRenew, a $20 value, yours free! Do not hesitate. Supplies are limited. Call now!

Hello. My name is Bryan Fantana. The folks over at iRenew want me to talk to you about the science behind their wonderful product. The secret is inside the fashionable wrist band. The comfortable elastic band is lined with over a hundred tiny neodymium magnets.

The magnets properly align your body’s intrinsic bioenergy field. Then the special iMeteorite goes to work. It sends out safe but powerful electromagnetic pulses at the natural frequencies your body positively responds to. It creates a positive feedback loop that keeps you alert and focused or makes you feel calm and relax. It does pretty much anything you need it to do. How does it do it? Hell if I know.

Oh wait. I do know! I am an engineer. That is why IRenew hired me.

Hello. My name is Bryan Fantana. I am a magnet engineer. I know a little something about magnets and natural frequencies. Let me take a few minutes to explain how the iRenew works. It is quite simple really. The high grade neodymium magnets inside the wristband cause the little magnetic particles in your body to reorient themselves. This in turn activates the iMeteorite. This small fragment of a meteorite which landed in Siberia nearly a century ago contains within it the secret of the cosmos! Natural frequency energy flow balancing! This small space rock emits powerful but extremely safe electromagnetic oscillations which cause your body to act like a positive feedback system on itself.

Doesn’t this sound exciting! I know you cannot wait to order an iRenew for you and everyone on your holiday shopping list. These powerful re-ionizing bracelets can be yours for only $29.99 each. But if you call within the next ten minutes and give us your bank account number, we will throw in the Irenew travel bag for free! A $19 value … yours free!

“This product really changed my life. I was a college dropout before I started wearing the Irenew. Now the magnetic biofields have enrolled me into a communications program at Roger Valley Community College.”– Tony, 22

“I look better naked! Thanks iRenew!” – Sandra, 33

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I know what you are thinking? “Who is this guy and what does he know about the iRenew?”

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The Dark Knight Rises: Part III

2010-11-14T14:00:00.005-05:00

~ Script Stolen by Bryan Fantana

When we last left our heroes, Robin had returned to the Batcave … but he was no longer Robin. Instead he has resumed his former role as Fantana-man, defender of babies.

Batman: How did you survive the radioactive fallout?

Fantana-man: I went to investigate the wreckage of the crashed plane and gather some samples of the Octomom. But before I could get a piece of a tentacle, one of her irradiated babies gummed me. While I was unconscious, the babies shielded me from any further radiation. Now that I am awake, I have discovered I can talk with babies.

Alfred: You can talk with babies?

Fantana-man: Yes and I can smell what the Rock is cooking.

Batman: Incredible. You are an actual super hero. I’m just an unfathomably rich vigilante, but you have actual super powers.

Fantana-man: Let’s save this conversation for later. Right now we have to get to Angelina Jolie’s house before the Octomom can assimilate her.

Alfred: If the Octomom’s babies join with Angelina’s kids, they will have an army of babies the likes of which the world has never seen before.

Fantana-man: Leave that to me. Now let’s go!

Batman hops in the Batmobile while Fantana-man rides the Fantana-cycle, which is the Robin-cycle modified with a sidecar for the babies. They speed toward Los Angeles. When they arrive at Brad and Angelina’s mansion, they are greeted by a platoon of soldiers and Machine Rachel. A sergeant approaches the duo.

Ricky: My name is Sergeant Ricky. Batman and … umm … whoever your friend is, we have everything under control here. There is no way that Octomom bitch is getting inside.

Batman: What about Angelina’s kids? If the Octomom converts them, we could be in for some serious trouble.

Ricky: No need to worry. We shipped them all to Africa about an hour ago.

Fantana-man: Why didn’t you get Brad and Angelina to a more secure location?

Ricky: Angelina refused to leave her house until the gays can marry.

Machine Rachel spots Batman. Something goes horribly wrong. She malfunctions again and starts shooting wildly. Everyone takes cover. Batman makes his way toward her. He has an idea.

Batman: Rachel! It’s me Batman. Let’s talk.

Machine Rachel: No! Die Batman die!

Batman: I know you are upset over Harvey Dent’s death, but do you think this is what he would have wanted? What is wrong? Talk to me!

Machine Rachel: The only man who ever loved me is dead!

Batman: He was not the only man who loved you.

Before Batman can finish, there is an explosion followed by gunfire. The Octomom has arrived on the scene. The soldiers are firing everything they have. It is slowing her down, but she still advances. Her baby horde attacks the defenders. Fantana-man tries to reason with her infants.

Fantana-man (telepathically): Stop babies! What you are doing is wrong.

Baby 1 (telepathically and with a British accent): Fine sir, we know this to be true. However Mother has promised to release us if we fulfill her requests.

Fantana-man (telepathically): How long has she held you prisoners already? She is lying. I know you sense this.

Baby 2 (telepathically and also with a British accent): The handsome man raises a valid point. We have lived in strife under the rule of our oppressive subjugator long enough!

Fantana-man (telepathically): Join me and become my army of babies. Help me fight Octomom and I shall set you free.

Baby 1 (telepathically): This sounds like a most excellent deal. We shall unite with you in your quest for justice.

The babies turn and now join Fantana-man in his battle with the Octomom. Meanwhile Batman is still trying to subdue Machine Rachel.

Batman: Rachel, I love you.

Machine Rachel: What? You may have saved me once or twice, but you are Batman. You save damsels in distress. That is what you do. I am not special.

Batman: I am not just Batman. Don’t you remember?

A bolt of acid spit hits the side of the building. The Octomom slithers toward the opening in the house. Waves of babies crawl over her, gumming and pooping on her trying to stop her advance.

Ricky: This should stop her.

He retrieves a handheld, experimental ray gun. He takes aim and fires a blast straight through the beast’s face. The energy bolt cuts a hole through her head. She recoils backward before slumping to the floor.

Ricky: We did it!

The fighting stops. Angelina and Brad emerge from a backroom.

Angelina: Is everything okay?

Ricky: Everything is under control here.

Just then one of the Octomom’s tentacles latches onto Angelina and drags her inward. Ricky fires more shots, but the Octomom just regenerates and keeps going.

Brad: Hey guys, don’t worry about it. Seriously, I can get younger and better tail in this town.

The Octomom lifts her body to reveal her massive, serrated vagina. She shoves a screaming Angelina into her lady hole. As Angelina begins to dissolve, the Octomom begins to transform. After a few moments, she has achieved her final form. Her lips are puffed out. Her mace and sword have changed to a jackhammer and a massive chainsaw. She has doubled in size and her eyes are as black as ever.

Outside Batman is still trying to explain his feelings toward Machine Rachel.

Batman: Listen to me. I am not just Batman. I am …

Batman looks around to make sure no one is watching before pulling off his mask.

Machine Rachel: Bruce?

Batman: Don’t you remember?

Machine Rachel: When they reanimated me, some of my memories got fried.

Bruce Wayne: Rachel, I love you and I always will.

Machine Rachel bursts into tears.

Machine Rachel: I am sorry for attacking you.

They share a deep kiss. Bruce is a little turned off by the taste of Machine Rachel’s metal lips, but he tries to hide it.

Bruce Wayne: Let’s get back to kicking some octopus monster ass.

He puts on the mask and the couple sprints toward the house. Octomom has several of the soldiers in the air. She slings them around before smashing them against the mansion walls. Then she stops. She gives out a cry as she gives birth to more babies. But these babies are different. They are covered in scales and have lizard-like eyes.

Batman: I’m back. What did I miss?

Fantana-man: Octomom has shoved Angelina into her lady hole and Brad got bored and drove away.

Batman: Can you use your powers to subdue these reptilian babies?

Fantana-man: I’m trying.

Ricky: Concentrate Fantana-man! You can do it.

The Octomom spits a wad of acid phlegm at Ricky. He screams out in pain as the acid burns off his face. Fantana-man tries to not let this distract him while he focuses on taming the new babies. No luck.

Fantana-man: I can’t talk with them! These babies speak Portuguese.

Machine Rachel springs into action. She begins firing away at the Octomom. She fires a few volleys of rockets. The Octomom is dazed and then becomes enraged. The beast screams out and swipes at Machine Rachel. The tentacle connects and she flies a few hundred feet before hitting a tree. Batman launches several batarangs, but these do nothing.

Fantana-man perks up. He senses something. He tells his babies to fight off the new crop of Octomom offspring. Fantana-man sprints to the Fantana-cycle and burns rubber leaving the scene.

Machine Rachel gets up. She turns to Batman.

Machine Rachel: I know what I must do. Bruce, I should tell you … I love you too.

Batman: Rachel, no!

Machine Rachel charges toward the Octomom. She fights her way through her tentacles and climbs into the beast’s cavern. The acid inside does nothing to Machine Rachel’s adamantium exoskeleton. She opens a small panel on her wrist and presses a few buttons. A countdown sequence begins.

Batman: Don’t do it! Abort, abort!

The sequence of beeping tones end. Machine Rachel self-destructs in a cataclysmic fireball. Charred pieces of the Octomom fly everywhere.

Batman: Rachel, no! Why?

The remaining soldiers rejoice. Fantana-man’s babies outnumber and are overpowering the reptilian offspring. They vanquish the last of the reptile abominations. But before the babies can celebrate, the pieces of the Octomom crawl toward a pile in the center of the mansion.

Batman: Oh no!

The pieces reform the Octomom, who is now more furious than ever. She begins the warpath again.

The Fantana-cycle pulls into a driveway down the road from the battle. Fantana-man runs to the door and rings the bell. After a few moments, the door opens. Before Fantana-man is the Rock wearing a chef’s apron.

The Rock: Who the hell are you?

Fantana-man: My name is Fantana-man. I smelled you cooking omelets.

The Rock: Why yes I am! How did you know?

Fantana-man: It is one of my superpowers. I have no time to explain. The Octomom –

The Rock (interrupting): Say no more. Where is that jabroni girl scout?

The Rock turns off the stove, throws down his apron, and jumps into the Fantana-cycle’s sidecar. They return to the fight. Carnage is everywhere. Most of the soldiers are dead and Batman’s gadgets are having no effect. The Rock leaps from the sidecar.

The Rock: The Rock says it’s time to layeth the smacketh down on some Octomom candy ass.

The Rock charges the beast. The two trade smacks to the chest. The Rock then grabs her by a tentacle and slings her into the house. She smashes through the wall. He rushes inside. Before the Octomom can stand, the Rock finds a metal folding chair in the corner. He slams it into her face, knocking her back to the ground. The babies rush in and hold her down. The Rock promptly delivers a People’s Elbow. The Octomom screams in agony.

The Rock: That should disable her. She’s all yours kid.

Fantana-man sees Ricky’s ray gun. He picks it up and fires at the Octomom. Her head explodes and she collapses to the floor. This time her head does not grow back.

Batman: Why isn’t her head growing back?

The Rock: The People’s Elbow disabled her regeneration powers. She is dead.

Batman: But how?

The Rock: Batman … know your role and shut your mouth!

With that the Rock walks off into the sunset. Fantana-man turns to the babies.

Fantana-man (telepathically): You did it babies! You are free.

Baby 1 (telepathically): I must say this battle was invigorating.

Baby 2 (telepathically): Fantana-man, may we join you in your adventures? We would like very much to assist you in vanquishing evil.

Fantana-man (telepathically): You certainly may.

Fantana-man gathers the babies and they drive away in the Fantana-cycle. An exhausted Batman stumbles to the Batmobile. Before he leaves, he gazes at the Octomom’s corpse. He thinks of Rachel’s sacrifice and a tear streaks across his mask.

The two remaining soldiers clean up the mess. They are soon met by government agents. They load the Octomom’s corpse into a truck. The agents bring the Octomom to a military facility in the Nevada desert. Scientists begin to dissect her remains.

As a scalpel begins cutting into her purple flesh, one of her tentacles flinches.

The Dark Knight Rises: Part II

2010-11-07T15:00:00.000-05:00

~ Script Stolen by Bryan Fantana

Our heroes arrive at Gotham Harbor. They witness the Octomom attacking sailors aboard a small fishing vessel still tied up to dock. She swings her mace and sword, hammering and decapitating crew members. A horde of babies follows her and feast on the flesh of her victims. The Octomom stops only briefly to drain the blood of a few sailors and eat their scrotums.

Robin: Holy bucket loads of babies, Batman.

Batman: I see all of those offspring too, but we should focus on the Octomom.

The Dynamic Duo spring into action. Batarangs fly about, but they seem to only annoy the Octomom. Robin fights off a small band of babies while Batman retrieves his mini bazooka. He fires a sticky bomb onto the Octomom’s stomach. She pulls it off of her, but is unable to throw it away before it explodes. She loses a tentacle. Batman reloads to fire again. He stops when he sees her tentacle regenerate after only a few seconds. The Octomom gives a loud screech.

Robin returns to the Batmobile. He sits in the passenger’s seat, presses a few buttons on a console, and a minigun emerges from the top of the Batmobile. Robin aims the gun with a small control stick and opens fire on the Octomom.

Robin: Die you worthless bitch!

After a few intense moments, the barrels empty the last few rounds. The Octomom is bleeding a dark purple ooze from hundreds of bullet holes over her body, but she is still standing. Soon the ooze stops flowing and her wounds heal.

Robin rejoins Batman. The two are now preoccupied fighting wave after wave of babies. Then more machine gun rounds assault the beast. Two A-10 Thunderbolts release a volley of gunfire and missiles. The Octomom disappears under a cloud of smoke and debris. As the aircrafts fly over, a blast of acid spit leaps from the cloud and burns through an aircraft’s left wing. The plane crashes into a nearby dune. Then Batman spots a distant bomber on the horizon. Batman and Robin retreat to the Batmobile. The Octomom sees their withdraw and the approaching bomber. She returns to the water just before the Earth shattering warhead destroys most of the harbor.

Back at the Batcave, Alfred greets the bloody and beaten Dynamic Duo.

Alfred: Do I have to accompany you two on your adventures? It was just one, over-blown, TLC celebrity.

Batman: That thing was a celebrity?

Alfred: Oh yes! You might be spending your days running a major corporation and your nights fighting crime, but I have nothing better to do than to clean up your messes and keep up with all the latest celebrity gossip. The Octomom was a minor celebrity for a few moments awhile ago.

Batman: Then why has she been attacking sailors?

Robin: Why does it matter? We don’t have to worry about her anymore.

Batman: Robin, you have much to learn. Alfred, meet me at the Batcomputer. We have some research to do. Robin, head back to the harbor. Find out anything you can. Bring back some samples of her flesh. Whatever that was, it was no mere celebrity.

Robin hops on the Robincycle and speeds off. Batman and Alfred activate the Batcomputer, a bank of servers connected to twenty monitors. They begin researching the Octomom.

Meanwhile, Robin arrives at a dimly lit beach. The downed aircraft is still burning fuel, but no one is present to clean up the wreckage. Some of the purple ooze and chunks of the Octomom have washed ashore here. With the light of the Moon and the flames of the plane crash to guide him, Robin collects a few samples of ooze. Then he walks toward a piece of a tentacle.

Robin: Ouch!

Robin looks down to see a baby gumming his ankle. He kicks the infant away. He staggers over to the tentacle. The pain in his ankle builds. He drops to his knees. His eyes begin to roll back and dribble runs down his chin. He fumbles for a communicator, but he faints before he can use it. A wave of salt water rushes over him.

Back in the Batcave, Batman has used a program called Bathack to access some computers at the Pentagon.

Batman: Look at this Alfred. It appears Harvey Dent was not the only one interested in this Nadya Suleman, a.k.a. the Octomom. The FBI and the U. S. Air Force opened their own files on her. They quietly watched as she became popular then faded into obscurity. But this does not look like the creature that attacked the harbor.

Alfred: Then what attacked the harbor?

Batman: This monster had purple skin, powerful tentacles, and fangs for drinking blood.

Alfred: According to her file, Suleman underwent in vitro fertilization to produce her offspring. Could it be a strange side effect?

Batman: Doubtful. This creature has ceased to be human.

Alfred (pointing at one of the screens): It looks like the FBI also opened files on Angelina Jolie and Megan Fox.

Batman: It says her agents are reporting Megan Fox has recently disappeared. She was secretly replaced by stunt doubles as to not panic the public.

Alfred: Since she has no personality, no one has noticed! Smart move by the movie producers, but is this related to Angelina and the Octomom?

Batman: Perhaps. Megan Fox and Angelina Jolie have a “bad girl” but incredibly boring quality to them. Like they are trying to portray themselves as bad girls, getting tattoos and whatnot, and they have attractive bodies, but they are the dull, vanilla kind of attractive. There is nothing interesting with them in physicality or in personality.

Alfred: I know what you mean. However, many believed Megan Fox was attempting to copy Angelina Jolie’s style. Suleman was also obsessed with Angelina.

Batman: What is this?

Alfred: It is an e-mail between Harvey Dent and FBI Director Robert Mueller. The FBI contracted a district attorney in Gotham to build a machine capable of destroying this “new form of the Octomom”. “New form”?

Batman: I’ve got it! My old microbiology professor would ramble about his celebrity fusion theory. He believed celebrities, even minor ones, possessed an ability to fuse on the cellular level with other celebrities to become unstoppable mega-celebrities.

Alfred: How is that possible?

Batman: The exact mechanism was never discovered. Perhaps the Octomom uncovered a way to do this and assimilated Megan Fox.

Alfred: My God!

Batman: That must be what the FBI concluded. If the Octomom can assimilate celebrities, drain victims of blood, and eat men’s scrotums, then the FBI feared nothing human could stop her.

Alfred: Machine Rachel! That must be why they built her. She cannot be assimilated.

They are interrupted by a new e-mail between Gordon and Mueller.

Batman: Alfred! Mueller is reporting to Gordon that the Air Force attempted to destroy the creature … with a small nuclear weapon!

Alfred: Robin!

Batman reaches for his communicator and tries to contact Robin. He does not answer.

Alfred: Look at the rest of this e-mail. The Air Force is reporting its attack as unsuccessful.

Just then the Batphone rings. It is Commissioner Gordon.

Batman: Commissioner.

Gordon: Batman, the Air Force attack –

Batman: (interrupting) was not a success?

Gordon: Yes. How did you know?

Batman: I just know. I am the goddamn Batman.

Gordon: It is only a matter of time before she emerges again.

Batman: I know exactly where she will appear next.

Gordon: Where?

Batman: Angelina Jolie’s house.

Gordon: How can you know such a thing?

Batman: I know about her assimilating Megan Fox and the FBI’s communications with Harvey and now you.

Gordon: But how?

Batman: There is no time to explain. Angelina is the Octomom’s last piece.

Gordon: Machine Rachel is online once again. We are sending her there to guard Ms. Jolie.

Batman: Is that safe?

Gordon: It is safer than letting the Octomom have her way. It would probably be a good idea if you were there too.

Batman: Not yet. Robin is missing. I will have to find him.

Robin (?): Consider your search over.

A dark silhouette stands at the mouth of the Batcave.

Batman: Robin?

Robin (?): Not anymore. Robin is dead.

Alfred: Dead?

Robin (?): Before you found me Batman, I was a superhero of my own.

Batman: Yes, I know. I took you under my Batwing and made you a better crime fighter.

Robin (?): And I thank you for it, but I am no longer your sidekick. I am my own man with my own abilities … I am Fantana-man!

The Dark Knight Rises: Part I

2010-10-31T15:00:00.001-04:00

~ Script Stolen by Bryan Fantana

The scene opens with Batman on a rooftop overlooking Gotham City. It is a calm night. Suddenly a woman screams in terror.

Batman: Looks like another night of saving Gotham from itself.

Batman leaps into action. He glides through the narrow buildings until he arrives at the source of the commotion. Smoke fills the sky. Cars are on fire and people are running in terror. Batman scans the streets. He sees what appears to be a silver humanoid in the distance. The creature senses Batman’s arrival and turns to greet him. He is stunned by what he sees.

Batman: Rachel?

The humanoid has a face which looks like the slain Rachel Dawes. The machine produces a loud screech and begins firing its machine gun at Batman. Batman takes cover behind an overturned van. The robot Rachel grabs the van and hurls it aside. Batman hurls a batarang at the machine with no effect. He reaches for his mini bazooka, but the monstrosity smacks the bazooka from his hands. It punches Batman and sends him flying a block down the road. He staggers to his feet in time to avoid more gunfire. He throws out a few smoke bombs, but the machine is still able to find him in the smoke using its infrared vision and once again hurls Batman around like a rag doll. A bloody Batman realizes the machine has tossed him toward his bazooka. He crawls for the weapon. The robot walks toward Batman, stands over him, and lifts its leg as if to crush him. Batman grabs the bazooka, flips over, and fires a sticky bomb onto the machine’s chest. He scurries up as the three second timer counts down and detonates.

When the smoke clears, the machine seems unharmed. It slowly looks up and makes eye contact with Batman. Just then a black van screeches onto the street. The mechanical Rachel turns toward the van. The vehicle stops and Commissioner Gordon steps out of the passenger side door with a remote control. He presses a button and the machine collapses onto the street. He and three police officers in tactical gear load the machine into the back of the van.

Batman: Gordon? What is going on here?

Gordon: I don’t have time to discuss this. We have to get her back to the lab immediately before the press arrives asking questions.

Batman: Is that Rachel?

Gordon ignores him and helps the crew load her into the van. Batman grabs the door and prevents them from closing it.

Batman (angrily): What have you done to Rachel?

Gordon: Come on. Hope in and I can explain everything when we get back to lab.

Batman, Gordon, and the crew drive away with the machine in tow. They drive to a desolate set of warehouses outside of Gotham City. An officer exits the vehicle to unlock and open the main doors to one of the larger buildings. The van pulls inside. Batman is shocked by the plethora of machines, tubes, and wires. The van’s back doors swing open and they hoist the robot onto a metal table.

Gordon: Damn. This is going to set us back another month at least.

Batman: Gordon, what is this?

Gordon: This is our lab. After Harvey Dent died a few years ago, we discovered a case file he was extremely interested in. He believed there was a horrific monster which was about to emerge and terrorize Gotham. He managed to sneak funding into the construction of this facility. Here scientists would build machines to stop the beast. When Harvey passed away, I became aware of what was happening and got involved. Progress has been great. This prototype here is nearly unstoppable. However its programming was another issue. The machine would require an incredible artificial intelligence program. I suggested a way around this problem was to use the remains of Rachel Dawes.

Batman: This thing is not Rachel!

Gordon: You are partly correct. We call her Machine Rachel. It does not have Rachel’s body, but it does have her mind. We were able to reanimate portions of her brain tissue. I like to think that is what Harvey would have wanted. Batman, that is Rachel on the table.

Batman: What has science done?!

Gordon: She is still very much Rachel. After we activated her, she was laughing and conversing as if nothing happened. She asked about Harvey. She did not take the news of his death well. That’s when that rampage happened. With any luck we can pass off her destruction as the acts of one of your nemesis … the Riddler perhaps.

Batman stares at the lifeless Machine Rachel. There is a sense of longing in his eyes.

Gordon: I hope we can get her operational again before the Dark Beast emerges.

Batman: Harvey’s imagined creature?

Gordon: This is no myth.

Batman: The only monsters in this world are other people.

Gordon: Not this creature. This beast is very real. It has attacked crew members aboard several ships entering and leaving Gotham Harbor. It drains their blood and consumes their scrotums. It has tentacles which can strangle elephants. Worse still are the sounds and the stench of crying wet babies that follows it everywhere.

Batman: Does this creature have a name?

Gordon: A few months ago the Ashanti tribe of Ghana was brutally attacked by the creature. The news outlets did not take their accounts seriously, but we did. They saw its hideous black eyes, its extensive tentacles, and its entourage of babies. They referred to it as “Octomom”.

Batman: If such a creature exists, why did you not tell me?

Gordon: Because I know you. You will try to stop it. You cannot stop it. This creature is too powerful for you Batman. And there is a possibility you could lose your scrotum.

Officer 1: Sir, it’s the creature! It has just been spotted near Douglas’ Lighthouse.

Gordon turns to Batman.

Batman: You have no need to fear Commissioner. I can handle this.

Gordon (turning toward Machine Rachel): I am afraid without her you cannot.

Batman sneaks out of the building before Gordon can turn around. A stylish new Batmobile is parked outside. Inside is Batman’s new apprentice.

Batman: Good thing I brought the locator with me. Now move over and let me drive.

Robin: Where are we heading?

Batman: To Gotham Harbor.

Analysis of the Karen Owen Presentation

2010-10-10T14:00:00.004-04:00

Duke student Karen F Owen has been the center of some recent blogosphere buzz. (Note to self: ram my face into the side of a fire hydrant for using the term “blogosphere”.) The Duke graduate created a PowerPoint presentation detailing her sexual encounters with thirteen students during her college career. She included their names, photos lifted from Facebook, her relationship history with the subjects, details of their performances in bed, and overall ratings for each male. She sent the slides to three of her friends who in turn spread the file to most of their friends. Now everyone has a copy and the subjects involved and university officials are enraged. Karen defends herself by saying fraternities make similar lists. If you are interested in viewing the PowerPoint presentation, click the link below.

Jezebel: College Girl’s PowerPoint “Fuck List” Goes Viral

I can understand her demonstration in justice. Chauvinistic frat boys are always bragging to their friends about sleeping around, they drop names, and they give detailed descriptions of their encounters. I am sure the douchebags in her presentation were no exception. Many in our culture view women as nothing more than sexual objects. When a guy has sex with a bunch of girls, he is a “player”. When a girl has sex with a bunch of guys, she is a “whore”. It is a double standard that needs to be abolished. Her retaliation is understandable and completely justified.

Nah, I’m just kidding. She’s a total slut.

To make matters worse is her 41 slides of rotting garbage. Just look at this slide from her presentation.

Back when I was a teaching assistant for a senior level engineering lab, I had to grade PowerPoint presentations from groups of students. I have seen some good presentations and I have seen some abysmal pieces of cow feces cascading from a projector and onto a screen which does not deserve the shame displayed on it. This might be the single worst set of slides my poor eyes have ever had the misfortune of seeing. It is lucky for Karen she did not present these slides in my class (of course assuming the labs were about blowjobs and not acoustic emission sensors and inlet guide vanes). I would have failed this girl so hard puppies would screech in her presence and upon death she would be reborn as a hideous undead creature cursed to roam the lands doing the bidding of the devil, collecting the souls of the damned, and viewing shitty PowerPoint presentations like her own until the End of Days.

Karen, let’s list out some things you got wrong.

You literally wrote out EVERY SINGLE FUCKING WORD of your presentation. This is the kind of thing a fifth grader does when first using PowerPoint.
The font size is terrible for presentations. I do not bring binoculars to board meetings, so cut this shit out.
You have way too many words on your slides. The sample slide above has 31 lines. It is obvious you like to jabber for hours on end, but 31 lines on one goddamn slide? Christ. It is called “being concise”. It is critical in presentations as the audience does not want to spend three hours listening to you talk about giving head. Actually, I take that back.
The introduction is missing a sense of “mapping”, i.e. where this presentation is going. A good mapping slide gives the audience information about the structure of the presentation. Structure is your friend. It is much better than staying up until 5 AM throwing a bunch of horse shit onto PowerPoint slides.
There is no conclusion slide. What am I supposed to take away from this presentation?
There is no title on most of your slides. Each slide should have its own title. Slide titles are important so the audience has some fucking idea what you are discussing on th slide. This also helps in keeping up with your presentation as nearly every slide looks like either a collage of photos of douchebags or an excerpt from your diary.
Black text on a white background? Was it that hard to spend the five seconds necessary to right-click and change the background color of the slides? Go with blue. Bitches love blue backgrounds. Karen, at least make it look like you were giving a damn.
Your bar graph looks like diarrhea. I appreciate the properly labeled axes and a chart title, but the grey background is hideous.
There are no slide numbers. This is a big pet peeve of mine. How can an audience member keep up with your presentation? How would he or she know if the slide handouts are in order?
The bullet points in most of your slides serve no function. I am using a bulleted list right now to … I don’t know … fucking list some shit. You just used them to start new paragraphs.

At some point while looking over this clutter, my OCD kicked in. I started to print some handouts and red pen the hell out of this presentation, but then I realized there was no salvation here. There was only throwing out this mess and starting anew. Therefore I have taken the time out of my day to create a new presentation. Karen, you can thank me by closing your legs and bringing me a Reuben.

Owen Presentation Corrected

View more presentations from Bryan Fantana.

If the embed fails, go straight to the slides by clicking here.

Cornhogs Drop Jacob Borland

2010-09-19T10:08:00.003-04:00

~ Article by Bryan Fantana

Folks, it is official. On Saturday the Cornhogs head coach Christopher “Corn Daddy” Thomas confirmed that team and their freshman all-star Jacob Borland were going their separate ways. Cornhole analysts, including myself, had been speculating for weeks that this day was fast approaching. One cornhole team is not nearly big enough for Borland, Thomas, and their egos.

Lately the rumor mill had been churning out stories of locker room skirmishes between Thomas and Borland. The most recent altercations seem to be centered on Borland’s “Where the bitches at?” incident back in August. After getting “trashed as a motherfucka” at a gentlemen’s club in West Virginia, Borland drove his Ford Mustang off the highway and into a nursing home. Thankfully no one was hurt in the incident. However, police reports detail how an inebriated Borland repeatedly screamed out “Where the bitches at? Where my bitches!” He spent the night in jail before his parents paid is bail. It was a dark day for the world of cornhole.

Coach Thomas has become increasingly more public about his outrage over the event. Thomas, himself MVP during Corn Bowl ‘07 and Corn Bowl ‘08, has a grandmother staying in the facility. He berated his star athlete in his recent Facebook press release on Saturday.

borland lacks discipline he’s an airogant freshman who needs to be taught a lesson the Cornhogs ® we run a very tight ship here […] this move was the best possible move for hte Cornhogs ® and for borland himself when i’m done buttfucking his mom i’ll tell her to drop by his shitty ass apartment and whip is ass back to reality!!!

Later that night, Borland tweeted from his Blackberry a rebuttal.

chris can lick my dick! fag!!

In the fallout from this separation, the cornhole community is asking itself, “Can the Cornhogs make it without Borland?” Before Borland the Cornhogs were nothing short of abysmal. Last year’s 0-9 fallout during the regular season left many speechless. Some speculated the team was allowed to play again this year only because their roster included Levar Madison, the league’s only African American player. When the Cornhogs recruited the freshman Jacob Borland, they picked up a ringer. Coach Thomas saw talent and immediately placed Borland as the team’s captain.

While Borland may have been a total douchebag, no one could deny his incredible skill with a cloth bag filled with feed corn. He famously pioneered a technique he called the “tea bag”. For his signature move, he would swing the corn bag near his crotch while doing pelvic thrusts. When it was time to “release”, he would give us an “o-face” and sling the bag from his crotch. Then … swoosh. Nothing but hole.

The Cornhogs are currently 5-1 this season. With three games left in the regular season and Borland out of the picture, the Cornhogs will likely return to their former losing streak. The captain’s position looks to transition from Borland to junior Tim Galoski, who the Cornhogs only let play with them because Galoski’s father donates a ton of cash to Beta Sigma Omicron every year.

But do not think Borland will be just watching cornhole games from the sidelines. The Bag Boys are looking to sign Borland next season. Other teams have expressed interested in taking on Borland, but Bag Boy’s coach William Kingsley has offered to let Borland hit on his sister. Not his older sister; she’s a total bitch. I’m talking about his younger sister. The chick with the huge knockers at the Delta Phi cookout last weekend. YEAH!!!!

The Cornhogs will be facing the Corn Bandits this Saturday in the parking lot outside the UNC football game.

The Dog Whisperer’s Apprentice

2010-08-01T15:08:00.002-04:00

~ Article by Bryan Fantana

Twenty minutes late. I have worn a path into the carpet. Where is he? I suppose he is the boss and he can get away with this. Still, it makes me nervous. Maybe I am in the wrong office. No, it can’t be. Cesar Millan is printed on the placard on the door. I hate these first day jitters. Maybe tardiness is the norm for dog whisperers. I should consider myself fortunate. Mr. Millan is the reason I have a job at all. He found me working at an Ace hardware. He said I had a certain aura of a future dog whisperer. He wanted me to take up his throne and become a great whisperer like him. I think he is crazy, but this job pays twice what I was making at Ace.

There he is. I see him pulling into the parking lot from the office window. He is in a Porsche with two blonde ladies in the backseat. He says something to them which causes them giggle. Then the three of them enter the building and exit the elevator on my floor moments later. The blondes giggle again and step into separate offices. Cesar walks straight toward me. He extends his hand.

“Glad to see you showed up,” he says as his grip nearly takes the life out of me. “I have a big assignment today and I really could use your help.” The Cesar Millan needs my help? Unless it has something to do with sorting screws, I doubt I will be of much help.

He leads me to the parking lot. He retrieves a set of keys from his pocket and walks toward a white van. “We aren’t taking the Porsche?” I ask. He laughs. “No, no. We could never fit all of the equipment in the Porsche.” Equipment? I thought this man was a simple dog whisperer. What equipment is involved in talking to a Labrador? I dare not question the boss and look like a fool. I give a quick nod. He turns the key and the van putters to life.

On the way there, I try to make small talk.

“How did you become a dog whisperer?” I ask.

“I have always been a dog whisperer. I first discovered my gift when I was seven. I was trapped in a drain pipe during a game of hide and seek with some of the neighborhood kids. I telepathically told my dog Rex where I was. He alerted my parents who found me within an hour.”

I cannot say I have ever had such an experience. My communication with dogs has been limited to friends’ dogs jumping on me when I walk in the door and an incident when I was twelve when a dog bit me on the ankle when I tried to take a shortcut through Ms. Faulkner’s yard. I want to impress Mr. Millan. So, I lie.

“Something like that happened to me too. I was twelve … I mean six. I was six. I was playing hide and seek with my neighbor when I hid in a tree and couldn’t come down. I used my psychic powers to tell my German Shepherd Kricket I was stuck in a tree. She barked a lot at my parents and then they found me.”

“I knew I picked the right boy to be my apprentice!” he declares. I did not think through this plan. I remain silent and look straight ahead. He smiles for the rest of our journey.

We drive deeper and deeper into the city. I am not so familiar with the underbelly of town. Most of the buildings are crumbling. Graffiti adorns nearly every wall still standing. Folks on the street stare us down as we drive by. Where are we going? Who out here can afford a dog whisperer to talk to her little Fluffums about his constipation?

“Who placed this call anyway?” I ask.

“The dogs did,” he replies as if it was a natural answer. “They are calling to me. They need our help.”

Cesar swings the van into an alley between a bar and an apartment building. I follow him from the vehicle to apartment 408. A nearly deafening collection of howls emanate from behind the closed door. Cesar gives three quick knocks. No answer. Three more knocks and still nothing. He reaches into his coat pocket and reveals a 9 mm handgun. “We are going in.” With one swift kick he nearly separates the door from the hinges. Inside are about thirty dogs of varying breed and age. They seem excited to see us there. Then again, most of the dogs I have ever met always seem excited. Except Mrs. Faulkner’s mutt. Then the smell of fecal matter and wet dog hits my nose. I can barely stand. In a haze, I look around. The owner is passed out on the kitchen floor. Cesar hoisters his gun and tends to her.

The owner soon comes to. She grips her forehead in pain. She tells us how she was feeding her dogs when suddenly a surge of energy knocked her to the ground. Cesar retrieves his gun again. “Wait here.” He creeps around the apartment. Moments later, I hear him calling. “Come here. Slowly.” I make my way to the bedroom through the stacked boxes, rotting garbage, and piles of feces. Then I see it.

“Poodles. I hate fucking poodles,” he says. Before us, lying alone on the bed, is a poodle. It glares at us with haunting red eyes. It knows why we are here. The poodle stands up. The lights in the room deem. The poodle’s eyes begin to glow. She begins to levitate. The dog starts flying around the room. Cesar fires round after round at the demon poodle, but she is too fast. Then the dog smashes through the bedroom window and escapes into the city.

“Shit!” Cesar exclaims.

“What just happened?” I ask.

“What does it look like? That poodle is possessed by a demon. Come on. We need to get the equipment and stop her before she can hurt any innocent people.”

I rush to keep up with him. He makes it to the van and slings open the back doors. Inside is an assortment of medieval weaponry. Cesar hands me a short broadsword and a crossbow. He grabs an axe and a set of what appear to be grenades made out of glass bottles.

“These weapons have been blessed by Pope Benedict XVI himself,” Cesar assures me. “They have Christ’s Holy Spirit imparted into them. These can take down that monster. But listen, only wound it. I need that poodle alive. It has some valuable information.”

We dart around the inner city on foot looking for any place she could be hiding. It does not take long before we discover a trail of burning buildings and red glowing dog droppings. Then we hear screams. We follow the trail as fast as our legs will carry us. At the end of the path is a small diner. Inside is the demonic dog floating inside a sphere of chairs and silverware. She sees us. I shoot my crossbow, but a chair blocks the arrow. Mr. Millan charges the building. The poodle catapults a chair toward him. He leaps over the chair with ease. Cesar hurls one of the grenades into the diner. An enormous fireball engulfs the building. I shield my eyes from the blast. When the heat dissipates and I take my hand away from my face, I see Cesar’s axe clashed against a chair directly in front of the poodle. It is a battle of wills to see who flinches first. I see my opportunity. I reload the crossbow, lift it to my shoulder, take aim, and fire another bolt. This time I hit my mark. The poodle drops to the ground.

Cesar checks the dog. It is still breathing. The dog turns to me and begins to speak in a deep, raspy voice.

“This is not over yet boy. This world shall be mine.”

Its eyes roll back. It is dead. I breathe a deep sigh of relief. Cesar is not pleased.

“Damn it,” he yells. “I needed him alive.”

“Sorry sir. I figured an evil poodle with chairs floating around it could take an arrow to the gut.”

Mr. Millan sighs. “It is okay. You are young and naïve, but you are a good kid nonetheless. This is the third demon I have tried to exercise in the last month. The last two dogs escaped. I think Satan is planning something. Something big. I wanted this one alive! Oh well. I am sure we will have another opportunity. Come on, how about we get some ice cream.”

We return to the van to find it in flames. Mr. Millan rushes to the inferno, but there is nothing he can do to save his van. Then I spot an envelope on the ground. I pick it up and hand it to Cesar. He opens it and reads it.

“Father in Heaven! We have to get to Washington, D.C. The president must be warned.”

[To be continued … eventually.]

An Application to Comcast

2010-07-25T10:06:00.006-04:00

~ Letter by Rythin of Scythgore

Dear Human Resources at Comcast,

My name is Rythin of Scythgore. I would like to apply for a position as a technician in your prestigious company. You will find that I am overly qualified for this occupation. My skills are diverse and my cunning is superb. I am what you humans would call a “demon” or a “boogeyman”. However neither of these is correct. I am an Oneck. My race has lived alongside humans for the past three thousand years. Your fears and your hatred are our sustenance. We feast like kings. Onecks have done everything from hiding under children’s beds to promoting genocide. Since the Crusades we have been behind every major war.

My last job was as a food depriver. My duties included preventing rain from watering crops and sinking ships full of supplies to third world countries. My colleagues and I are the ones responsible for world hunger. It is a most impressive feat. The fear of dying and the anger of those who wish to cease world hunger bring us all of the aura we could ever need.

But I am weary of such things. I want more excitement. I want a challenge. That is why I am applying for your wonderful corporation. Your company is one of the most evil institutions I have ever witnessed. Your complete disregard for your fellow human beings is awe inspiring. Never before have I seen such rudeness or apathy. Your tardiness to service calls is mesmerizing. I am rendered speechless by your cable and Internet rates. In short, I am jealous of your company.

Open your doors to this wonderful opportunity. I will bring to Comcast my many assorted talents. I am an expert in torture techniques. No mortal can make a man shrill in terror while being water boarded like I can. I have many new ideas for you to implement on your customers. For example, suppose a customer calls to complain his Internet is not working. After putting him on hold with technical support for over an hour, he gives up and comes to our offices only to discover an old hag who considers his complaint trivial. He schedules a technician to arrive at his apartment a week later. Then our automated system calls him asking him to cancel his appointment. But here is the twist. When he refuses to give in and a technician arrives, the costumer is shocked to discover a humanoid-shaped mass of fire ants at his doorstep. The ants move as one to create motion in the “legs” of this abomination. The hoard takes three steps before scattering throughout the apartment. For weeks they emerge from the walls and descend upon the customer. Their mandibles rip at his flesh until he is almost dead. Then, before he can taste the sweet relief of death, the ants scurry back into the walls to let him heal and repeat the process over again. I told you my cunning is superb.

As you can see, I am a gifted and malicious being who would be a great asset for Comcast. I look forward to hearing your reply. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
Rythin of Scythgore

Enclosure:
Resume

Introducing MoonBaseParty.org

2010-07-18T10:00:00.002-04:00

~ Post by Bryan Fantana

“Not since man invented the wheel and woman invented a reason to complain about it has there been such an event in human history worth this much celebration.” – Larry King

I, Bryan Fantana, would like to formerly introduce to the world:

The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America, the Official Website thereof

For convenience, you have my permission to simply call it:

MoonBaseParty.org

The website is your portal to all things Moon base and Moon Base Party related. Here you can find the latest news on the movement, exclusive interviews with leading party members, and perhaps some Moon Base Party memorabilia (at the very least, you can print the logo from the website and tape it to your cat or cats). This website promises – no, guarantees! – an informative and life changing experience with every mouse click.

“Goddamn this is some good shit.” - Ernest Hemingway

It is not just information you can find on this website. You will journey through a world* of lunar rocks, babies, and military research complexes. Your heart will race. You will barely be able to focus. Was that a dinosaur? Your forehead will be covered with sweat. Seriously, I think an allosaurus just ran past you. When you finally come to grips with the wonders of the Moon base, you will suddenly realize you are still staring at the banner. One turn of the scroll wheel and the journey begins anew. Oh and that totally was an allosaurus.

“This website is okay.” – Barack Obama

So why are you waiting? Stop reading this and click the link already. You are still reading this, aren’t you? I said stop reading and click the link. Click it. Don’t make me come over to your house and take a dump on your patio. I have done it before. You remember Jim’s grandma? Yeah that was no dog.

“There are good websites and there are great websites. Then there is MoonBaseParty.org. Never in all my years have I been prouder to be an American.” – Richard Petty

*Actually a moon.

In Regard to the Construction of a Moon Base

2010-07-11T08:50:00.012-04:00

~ Letter by Bryan Fantana

Public Communications Office
NASA Headquarters
Suite 5K39
Washington, DC 20546-0001

Dear Officials at NASA,

Let me begin by first introducing myself. My name is Bryan Fantana. I am founder and president of The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America. Not The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America that tried to sell generic brand PEZ dispensers to inner city youth. That was a different The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America. We are The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America that tried to enter me into the 2008 presidential election and applied for $77.6 quadrillion ($7.76E16) in government bailout money that December. We never heard back on the bailout money. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who could help us out, would you?

My colleagues and I are avid supporters of lunar colonization. The construction of a Moon base is a necessary endeavor. Its benefits to scientific progress, military defense, civilian tourism, and baby research technologies are vital steps forward for our country and humanity. Its development would be a signal to the rest of the world that the United States is still a player on the world stage. However, it is obvious that there is presently no Moon base.

It is understandable why you may feel discouraged. The American people have lost interest in space exploration or scientific advancement. Even President Obama cannot be counted upon for assistance or encouragement. The man of hope cut your budget and forced you to cancel the Constellation program because it was “over budget, behind schedule, and lacking in innovation” despite its demonstrated success. Grounding the Constellation program effectively ended current plans for returning to the Moon. And you accepted this. NASA Administrator Mr. Charles Bolden is quoted as saying, “The truth is that we were not on a path to get back to the Moon's surface.” Chilling. So instead you are pumping out a video game called Moonbase Alpha where players can pretend they are on the Moon. As a representative of the lunar instillation community, we are insulted.

Insults and poor taste in video games withstanding, the severity of this situation is certainly as clear to you as it is to me and my fellow Moon base supporters. The Russian and Chinese aeronautics programs now have a clear path to pioneer space and the future. In less than a decade, the United States will have slipped back into a technological third or fourth place. With the media’s growing incompetence and our society’s growing dissonance, perhaps we will be left behind and descend into an effective Dark Age.

I am sure you are aware of all of this. However you are probably not aware of our organization or what we can do for you. The Official Moon Base Party of the Unites States of America (OMBPUSA) is extending its hand to help NASA back onto its feet. We would like to outline a program called the Manned Missions, Moon Base, and Buying iPads Encouragement Strategy (MMMBaBiES). The purpose of MMMBaBiES is to restore the days of manned space flight, to see to fruition the construction of a Moon base (which will be christened “Moon Base”), and persuade Americans to buy more iPads. Apple is a willing sponsor of the MMMBaBiES program, but they requested we do some product placement for them.

There are many obvious advantages to building and operating Moon Base. Constructing Moon Base is a large public works project which will employ many who are desperate for jobs. Sections can be constructed here on Earth and transported into space. Astronauts on the Moon can reassemble the pieces upon arrival. Once constructed Moon Base will serve three roles: a research station, a military platform, and a vacation destination. The reduced gravity and lack of an atmosphere make the Moon a great place for many scientific projects. For example, the lack of other civilization and the lack of an atmosphere make the Moon ideal for telescopes, both optical and radio. Moon Base will also serve as a military platform. Its strategic position and its space cannons will give the United States military a great advantage in future conflicts. Additionally this allows the construction team to utilize the resources and budget of the U.S. military. Finally Moon Base will make a great vacation resort. Who wouldn’t want to go to the Moon? The tourism will be another great source of income. The reduced gravity experience, the sight of the Earth in the sky above, and the three story gift shop will have tourists coming back year after year. Most importantly, Moon Base will serve as a symbol. It will instill hope in the citizens of this great land and strike fear into the heart of our enemies. The space cannons will give teeth to this fear.

The MMMBaBiES program consists of five phases.

Phase 1: We need a standardized spelling of Moon Base. It is properly “Moon Base”, not “Moonbase”. Two words. This is confirmed by “Moon Base” returning about 3,380,000 (3.38E6) hits on Google while “Moonbase” returns only 678,000 (6.78E5) hits. Additional verification is found when Microsoft Office views “Moonbase” as a spelling error. The word “Moon” is capitalized as we are referring to the Moon (the name of the natural satellite in orbit around Earth) as opposed to a moon (a natural satellite orbiting another celestial body). The same rule applies to the term “base”. Base is capitalized when referring to the Moon Base (the proper name of the planned lunar instillation) instead of a Moon base (any lunar instillation). Please take the time to update your records now.

Phase 2: We need a public relations department. Leave that to us. The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America will handle the public relations wing of this operation. Our campaigning and advertising will change the tune of the most die hard fiscal conservative or space exploration opponent. We have several persuasive techniques already in development. I saw R.E.O. Speedwagon’s career resurge when a YouTube user named ErrantVenture created a video featuring “Take It on the Run” played over clips from Farscape. The emotional film inspired me to begin creation of a video showing clips of shuttle launches, Moon landings, and low orbit maneuvers looping over an Alvin and the Chipmunks cover of "Funkytown". Such a video is estimated to reach at least 40 million (4.0E7) hits within its first year on YouTube. It would be a smash hit!

Phase 3: We need a new space vehicle. You may be pleased to know that several members of OMBPUSA are unemployed engineers. With low employment prospects and every episode of SpongeBob SquarePants memorized, there is little else for these engineers to do but brainstorm new methods to accelerate crew and cargo to escape velocities. Attached to this letter are a few designs currently being explored. Any input from your engineers would be appreciated.

Phase 4: We need a Moon base. With the name sorted out and the space delivery system under way, Moon Base itself will need to be constructed. This is of course the overarching objective of OMBPUSA. It will not be easy, but that is something that has not stopped this country before. Attached is a purposed layout of Moon Base.

Phase 5: We need a billboard. We will have to place a large iPad billboard on the Moon as part of our agreement with Apple.

For MMMBaBiES to be successful, OMBPUSA still needs support from NASA. Donations of money would be appreciated, but not necessary. We are terrible at money management. I filled out part of last year’s taxes with a magic marker and Allen, our Secretary of Moonland Security, submitted his paperwork on bar napkins after a mishap with a printer ink cartridge. We would not know where to place NASA donations on a tax form. Instead OMBPUSA would like your vocal and moral support. With NASA encouragement The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America would become The OFFICIAL Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America. You would further legitimize our movement and gain a powerful alley.

Thank you for your time. The soon to be OOMBPUSA eagerly awaits your reply.

Sincerely,

Bryan Kaboom! Fantana
President, The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America

Enclosures:
Potential Vessels or Systems for Manned Space Flight
Moon Base Layout

Popeye the Sailor Man: Part II

2010-06-27T10:39:00.004-04:00

Popeye the Sailor Man
The Action Movie Reboot
Part II

Popeye gets dressed quickly and storms out of the hotel. Wimpy rushes to keep up with him. Popeye and Wimpy speed toward the police station. Upon arrival Popeye asks the officers if he can question the captured terrorist. They allow him and Wimpy to enter the interrogation room. The terrorist, exhausted from a night of questioning, looks up at Popeye as he enters the room. Popeye stands over him. From the other side of the one way mirror, the officers look upon the scene.

Popeye: (angry ramblings)

Terrorist: I will tell you nothing.

Popeye slams the man’s head into the table.

Popeye: (even angrier ramblings)

Wimpy: Popeye stop! We’ll never get information out of him this way.

Popeye punches the terrorist in the face. He tumbles from the chair and crashes to the floor. Blood pours from his nose and mouth.

Terrorist: I’ll talk! I’ll talk! Bluto kidnapped your wife and son as soon as he found out you were pursuing him. Collateral, you know?

Popeye: (angry gibberish) … mole … (something about cheesecake?)

Terrorist: I don’t know who the mole is. I swear, I swear! Bluto doesn’t know either. The only person who has talked to the mole is Cardinal Pierre. Whoops! I mean …

Wimpy: Ah ha! So the Vatican is in on this.

One of the officers behind the one way mirror turns to his partner.

Officer 1: You heard that?

Officer 2 [Played by Michael Bay]: Yes I did. Tell the captain to contact our associates in Vatican City. We’ll figure out who this Pierre guy is and what he has to do with all of this.

Back in the interrogation room, the terrorist pleads for his safety.

Terrorist: Please sir. I beg you! Don’t hit me again.

Popeye and Wimpy exit the room without saying a word. In the hallway Wimpy confronts Popeye.

Wimpy: What the hell was that?

Popeye: (gibberish)

Wimpy: That wasn’t you in there. It’s like you are some kind of monster now.

Popeye: I yam what I yam!

Popeye storms off with Wimpy trailing behind. Meanwhile at the Vatican, Bluto returns to meet the cardinals. In the archives, three cardinals once again wait impatiently. One of the cardinals has an old, rare book.

Cardinal 1: Pierre, this manuscript. Is it true?

Pierre [formerly Cardinal 2]: One can only have faith.

Cardinal 1: The power of a thousand men?

Pierre: If the legends are true, then Atlantis is the only place fertile enough for the legendary Plant of Atlantis. One bite of its mighty leaves and a man is granted with unfathomable strength.

Cardinal 1: Sir, do you think Bluto can be trusted?

Pierre: A brute like Bluto is weak to the temptations of money. As long as we supply him with cash, he is ours.

Bluto: Once again you boys underestimate me.

Bluto slides out from behind a bookshelf. Five others in all black attire and wielding machine guns follow close behind.

Bluto: I snuck in early and figured I would listen to your conversation. Figure out what is so important about this map and that amulet.

Pierre: I see there is no fooling you at this point. If one goes to the Tropic of Cancer at noon, sunlight passing through the amulet will summon forth Atlantis from its watery grave. There on Atlantis lies a plant –

Bluto (interrupting): - with the power to give anyone the strength of a thousand men. Sounds like something I wouldn’t mind trying out.

Pierre: We are heading out tomorrow morning.

Bluto: You will be, eh?

Bluto shoots and kills Pierre. The other men take care of the remaining cardinals. Bluto searches Pierre and finds the amulet.

Bluto: Now I can’t possibly let someone else get their hands on this rare plant. Men, let’s move out.

They exit the room. A few minutes later the police arrive.

Officer 3: What a mess! Hey, that is Cardinal Pierre, the guy the Egyptians were looking for.

Officer 4: Come check this out. Looks like some old book the cardinals were looking at.

They pick up the old book which is conveniently turned to the page on Atlantis and the Plant of Atlantis.

Officer 3: Our men back in Cairo may be interested in this.

They contact the officers in Cairo. Those men call Popeye on the mobile phone he now has. After a brief chat, he and Wimpy hop aboard a small fishing boat and chase down Bluto. A few minutes from shore, Wimpy looks concerned.

Wimpy: I am concerned. How do you plan on finding Bluto?

Popeye: (utter nonsense):

Wimpy: You may be a Seal, but the Atlantic Ocean is pretty big.

Popeye: (something)

Wimpy: I’m afraid I can’t let you do that Popeye.

Wimpy retrieves a small pistol from his coat pocket and points it at Popeye.

Popeye: (unintelligible) … mole … son of a … (unintelligible)

Wimpy: I’m sorry Popeye. Before I ran into you, Bluto found me. He wanted to collect on all the money I owed him. A quarter of a million. Your Navy Seal retirement package is pretty good. I blew through my little technical officer’s 401K in an afternoon at a McDonald’s. I don’t have a quarter of a million dollars lying around to pay anybody. So Bluto offered a deal. I help him find that amulet and in return he would call us even. Then you got involved and now I have to take care of you.

Popeye lunges for the gun. A struggle ensues. Wimpy drops the gun. They wrestle for it. Wimpy manages to grab the gun. He shoots a round as Popeye tackles him to the ground. The bullet hits a propane tank aboard the ship. A large explosion rocks the small fishing vessel. After a few blows to Wimpy’s head, Popeye is convinced he knocked him out. He rises to his feet, grabs a fire extinguisher, and puts out the fire before it can destroy the ship. Wimpy shakes off his injuries and reaches for the gun once more. He places his index finger on the trigger. Popeye notices him in the reflection on a piece of glass. Popeye grabs a board with a nail in it lying nearby. He spins around and plunges the nail into Wimpy’s temple. Wimpy collapses. A few hours later, Popeye puts Wimpy’s body on a life raft, sets it on fire, and pushes it out to sea.

Bluto arrives at the Tropic of Cancer. It is only seconds away from high noon. He hoists the amulet in the air. At exactly noon a beam of light shines through the gemstone on the amulet and onto the water’s surface. After a few intense moments of anticipation, the sea begins to rumble. Air bubbles emerge all around. Bluto orders his men to move the ship back. Then an island covered in stone and monoliths rises from the sea. It is Atlantis. Bluto smiles as he lands his ship at a nearby dock.

Just over the horizon is Popeye. His Navy Seal training served him well. He was able to track down Bluto on the open sea. With Atlantis above water, he hoists all the sails and charges at full speed. Bluto notices the sails.

Bluto: That’s Popeye I’ll bet. That little one-eyed runt is the only one that could find us out here. You boys wait here for our visitor. Me and our other guests will head into the island and see if we can find this plant.

Bluto’s goons wait for Popeye to arrive. As the ship approaches the dock, the goons jump aboard and start looking for Popeye. They can find no one. They look around puzzled. Suddenly Popeye, who had jumped in the water, swam ahead of the ship, and snuck onto the dock before the henchmen could notice, slices their throats with the biggest Bowie knife allowed on screen. He steals their guns and heads into the island.

Gunfire ensues. Bluto drags Olive Oyl and Swee’Pea with him as he looks for this mysterious plant. In his mind he is picturing something like an apple tree from the Garden of Eden. He imagines a tree whose fruit shimmers in the sunlight, beckoning to be eaten. He ascends a spiraling staircase inside a large tower. He hopes to get a better vantage point from the extra height. Popeye gives chase, but is quickly outnumbered.

Pinned down by bullets from all directions, Popeye looks for a way out. All he can see are dirt, stones, and some kind of green leafy plant with no visible flowers. He ponders for a moment. Could this be the mysterious plant? What would it hurt to try? He grabs a handful of the plant. It’s spinach! He begins to spit it out when suddenly he is overwhelmed with adrenaline. His veins bulge. A wave runs across his body from his chest, through his arms, and ending in his hands. A few moments later Popeye was transformed. He appeared about the same, but as the legend said, he now had the strength of a thousand men. He grabs a large stone and hurls it toward some of the terrorists. He smashes two of them. He drops his machine guns and charges the remaining henchmen.

Bluto notices the melee and Popeye’s transformation. He realizes the spinach is the key. He looks around, but finds none on the tower. Popeye swiftly dispatches with the goons, hurling some of them several miles away and driving some of them deep into the ground with a single downward punch.

Now only Bluto remains. Popeye runs up the side of the tower. He gets to the top of the tower when the effect of the super spinach wears off. He stares down Bluto. Bluto is clutching Olive Oyl and Swee’Pea with one arm.

Bluto: It looks like this is the end for you my friend.

Popeye: (unintelligible) … boot up your … (unintelligible)

Bluto: You still have a chance. You have seen what this spinach can do. Together we would be unstoppable. Whole nations would bow to us. Think of the possibilities.

Popeye: (rubbish)

Bluto releases his hostages and charges Popeye. The two of them exchange blow after blow. They descend the tower’s staircase. The fight spills over into the stone labyrinth. They momentarily separate. Sneaking around Bluto discovers a small patch of spinach. Still on top of the tower, Olive Oyl sees Bluto and screams out to Popeye. This distracts Bluto long enough for Popeye to turn the corner and pick up the fight before Bluto can taste the miracle vegetable.

The fight carries on for several more minutes. They manage to return to the top of the tower. Exhausted, they take a break from exchanging blows. They try to catch their breaths.

Bluto: Boy you could have been something. (pants) You could have been my second in command. Now I’ll have to finish you off.

Popeye: (mumbles something)

Bluto: You know what you are? You are just a little one-eyed runt!

Popeye: No. I’m Popeye the Motherfuckin’ Sailor Man.

Popeye lunges forward and slams Bluto’s face with a hard right punch. Bluto stumbles backward. Popeye notices the edge of the tower. Bluto is destined to tumble over. Popeye leaps over and grabs his old friend’s hand as he stumbles over the ledge. Popeye is barely able to hold on.

Bluto: You know I was kidding about all that stuff, right? You know how I like to trash talk.

As he speaks, Bluto notices a patch of spinach just out of reach. If he swings from Popeye’s arm, he could make it. He presses his luck. Bluto leans back, swings forward, and tries to break away from Popeye’s arm. Popeye, weak from the battle, is unable to hold onto the jerking Bluto. Bluto slips from his grip and falls to the hard stones below. He is motionless.

Just then the island begins to submerge again. Popeye attempts to gather some spinach, but Olive Oyl reminds him he doesn’t have time. Popeye, Olive Oyl, and Swee’Pea make it to the fishing boat, untie it from the peer and cast off into the sea as the island finally returns to its former resting place. After a few smiles and laughs, Popeye makes a terrible discovery.

Popeye: (unintelligible)

Olive Oyl: The engine is broken? Hmm …. I have an idea!

Olive Oyl reveals a purse full of the magical green leaves. Popeye downs a handful, transforms again, jumps into the ocean, and pushes the fishing boat back to shore. The credits roll as Popeye pushes the boat over the horizon.

Popeye the Sailor Man: Part I

2010-06-20T10:03:00.019-04:00

Popeye the Sailor Man:
The Action Movie Reboot
Part I

Directed by Michael Bay
Written by Bryan Fantana

The movie opens with a shot of an oil tanker crossing the Atlantic Ocean. As the camera zooms in on the ship, there is an explosion on deck. Deckhands are slung off the ship by the fireball. The ship is on fire and it is only a matter of time before the flames reach the oil drums below deck. Four men in ski masks and all black clothing emerge from the explosion with guns ablaze. They make their way to the captain’s quarters. They catch the captain off guard. The leader of the terrorists speaks.

Leader: Where is the amulet?

Captain: I have no idea what you are talking about.

The leader looks around the room. He walks over to a board in the floor which appears a shade lighter than the rest. He pulls it from the floor to reveal a secret compartment with the amulet.

Captain: Listen to me Bluto. I know that is you behind that mask. You will not take that amulet.

The leader (now known to be Bluto) takes off his mask.

Bluto [played by Jack Black with trick camera angles to make him look taller]: You are no longer my commander.

Captain: You don’t know what that amulet can do. That thing is cursed!

Bluto: That’s not my concern. My employers want it and my employers pay well.

Bluto shoots and mortally wounds the captain. The terrorists hastily depart the flaming ship on a small escape boat just before a large explosion demolishes most of the ship.

The scene transitions to a Maryland suburb. In the front yard an older couple plays with a small infant. A black sedan parks on the street in front of the house. Two men in business suits exit the car followed shortly by a high ranking admiral.

Admiral [played by James Earl Jones … somehow]: Popeye. We need to have a word with you.

Popeye [played by Sylvester Stallone]: Olive Oyl, you should go inside. [It should be noted that this is one of Popeye’s three intelligible lines spoken during the film as casting Sylvester Stallone to play a cartoon character known for his problematic speech was a terrible casting blunder.]

Olive Oyl [played by a brunette Renee Zellweger]: Come on Swee'Pea.

Swee’Pea and Olive Oyl go inside the house.

Admiral: Popeye, we -

Popeye (interrupting): (unintelligible) ... Admiral Hamgravy … Navy Seals …

Admiral Hamgravy: I know your Seal days were long ago and you deserve your retirement. This country is grateful for what you have done. But we need you once more.

Popeye: (unintelligible)

Admiral Hamgravy: It’s your old pal Bluto. He and some members of a terrorist cell referring to themselves as the Atlantis Hunters have stolen a priceless Egyptian amulet we were transporting secretly on an oil tanker. A mole on the inside must have tipped him off. God only knows what they want with the amulet.

Popeye: (gibberish)

Admiral Hamgravy: I know you are uneasy about going against your fellow Seal. He’s a Seal and a damn good one at that. Like you. That’s why we need you. (Pause) I feel you should know that the oil tanker was captained by Commander Geezil. He wanted to personally escort the amulet.

Popeye: (unintelligible) … Geezil … (unintelligible)

Admiral Hamgravy: The last we heard Bluto is trying to find a map recently recovered with the amulet in an Egyptian burial chamber. The purpose of the map is still unknown. It is currently still in Egypt. The Egyptian government is uneasy letting us transport the map after Bluto’s attack. The map is at the museum in Cairo under heavy guard. But if I know Bluto, that will not deter him. We need you Popeye. Join us in stopping these terrorists.

Popeye: (unintelligible)

Admiral Hamgravy: If you decide to take my offer, then be at the dock tomorrow. The ship leaves for Cairo at noon.

The admiral and his personnel return to the car and drive away. That night Popeye and Olive Oyl make sweet love in front of the fireplace. No one in the audience is happy about this. This scene takes twelve minutes. The next morning Popeye is at the dock.

Admiral Hamgravy: Popeye. Glad you came around. An old friend his here to come along for the ride. I think you remember J. Wellington Wimpy.

Wimpy walks over.

Wimpy [played by Drew Carey]: Good afternoon Popeye.

Popeye: (unintelligible. He seems happy. I think I see a smile.)

Admiral Hamgravy: Hop aboard the ship and remember to put an extra boot up Bluto’s ass for me.

Popeye and Wimpy board the ship. Mid-voyage we see our heroes on the aft deck. Popeye lights a corncob pipe. Under the moonlight they talk about old times.

Popeye: (either speaking or trying to couch up something he ate earlier)

Wimpy: After my tour of Iraq as a technology advisor for the Navy, I returned to America to start a hamburger chain. Wimpy’s Whoppers. But we had to close down after two months when Burger King sued us over the use of the term “whopper.” Afterward I got into the arms business. Now I supply mercenaries and militias around the world with their tools of persuasion. (Long pause) Say, I wonder what Bluto and the Atlantis Hunters want with a map and a necklace.

Popeye: (unintelligible)

Wimpy: (laughs) You said it. When I get to Cairo, I am going to get the biggest hamburger I can find.

The ship continues its journey toward Cairo. Meanwhile at the Vatican, several cardinals are gathering in the archives. They are whispering amongst themselves.

Cardinal 1: Where is he?

Cardinal 2: He is almost an hour late.

Bluto throws open a set of double doors and enters the room.

Bluto: But I am here.

Cardinal 2: Do you have it?

Bluto: Of course I have it. You hired Bluto after all.

Bluto reaches into his pocket and retrieves the amulet.

Cardinal 1: The Amulet of Atlantis. Father in Heaven it is more beautiful than I imagined.

Bluto: So where is my pay?

A cardinal hands him a small stack of cash.

Bluto: This is only half!

Cardinal 2: You will get the other half when you retrieve the Map of Atlantis.

Bluto: You didn’t say anything about no map.

Cardinal 2: We hired you to steal whatever the Americans were taking out of Egypt. We thought that was just the amulet. But while you were away our inside agent informed us of a map that was in the tomb as well. We need that map. It is currently being held inside the museum in Cairo. Oh, and your old friend Popeye should be joining you there.

Bluto: Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the one-eyed runt.

Disgruntled, Bluto leaves. Walking down the streets of Rome, he is spotted by two police officers. Interpol e-mailed his face to every law informant agency around the world. The officers give chase. They loose Bluto down a dark alley. They begin to turn around when suddenly they hear something above them. They look up to see Bluto on some scaffolding. He gives a big grin as he drops a hand grenade onto the officers. The subsequent explosion kills the officers and destroys most of the nearby buildings. Bluto escapes unharmed. [This scene is necessary as the audience has gone too long without seeing an explosion.]

The next morning, Popeye and Wimpy arrive in Cairo. Their ship docks and Wimpy finds a burger joint right away.

Wimpy: One of your double deluxe hamburgers, my good sir.

Cashier (played by Bryan Fantana): That will be 98 gineih please.

Wimpy: Oh my! I seem to have misplaced my wallet. How about we make a deal. I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today.

Popeye mumbles something to Wimpy. They head deeper into the city before the cashier has time to ponder Wimpy’s offer. Popeye and Wimpy wind through the city until they find the museum. There they meet with building security.

Security Guard 1: How can I help you gentlemen?

Wimpy: It is actually the other way around. It is we who can help you. A terrorist group may attempt to break into your museum and steal a priceless map.

Security Guard 2: (laughs) This museum here has the best security system in the world. Every square inch of the museum and the grounds outside are monitored 24/7. More valuable artifacts, such as that map, are locked inside a 10 foot thick, steal-reinforced, concrete bunker. No one is going to touch that map.

Popeye: (garbled speech)

Security Guard 1: We got things under control here. Tell your American government not to worry so much.

The guards laugh while Popeye and Wimpy head to their hotel room. They return that night and sit in a white van parked across the street from the museum. Wimpy’s binoculars scan over the museum’s exterior while Popeye loads rounds into a machine gun magazine.

Popeye: (unintelligible)

Just then an explosion rocks the museum. They look around. Crashing through a side gate is Bluto and his men inside a tank. The tank parks on the lawn, takes aim, and fires another round into the side of the building. The second explosion blows a large hole through the concrete bunker housing the map. Bluto and five henchmen climb out of the tank and make their way to the vault. They gun down guards while security alarms blare.

Popeye: (excited babble)

Wimpy: I’m too scared. I’m staying here!

Popeye exits the van wielding two machine guns and carrying a third around his neck. He sneaks over to the tank. Wimpy reaches into the back of the van and grabs a hamburger he had been saving.

Wimpy: This will calm my nerves.

One of the terrorists notices him in the van munching on his hamburger and opens fire. Popeye lays into the attacker with both machine guns. A dazed, but uninjured Wimpy crawls from the van and into a nearby post office. During the melee Bluto steals the map. After a few intense moments, Popeye takes out two other terrorists. The gunfire stops and everyone takes cover.

Bluto: Popeye, you old one-eyed runt! It has been a long time. What brings you all the way to Cairo.

Popeye: (unintelligible)

Bluto: You haven’t changed at all Popeye. Unfortunately I have a job to do. So I will be taking this map and collecting my pay.

Popeye: (gibberish)

Bluto: This bazooka here says otherwise.

Bluto retrieves a bazooka and shoots in Popeye’s direction. Popeye gets out of the way just in time. The firefight continues, but Bluto escapes by stealing a passing car. He leaves behind the tank and an injured terrorist. The police arrive a few minutes later and arrest the henchman.

Popeye and Wimpy return to the hotel room and quickly fall asleep. Early the next morning the room phone wakes Popeye.

Popeye: (unintelligible) … (unintelligible) … (unintelligible)

Popeye rips the phone from the wall in a furious rage.

Wimpy: What is wrong Popeye?

Popeye: (gibberish)

Wimpy: Olive Oyl and Swee’Pea are missing?

The Box Banana

2010-06-06T16:15:00.011-04:00

~ Article by Bryan Fantana

There it was. Everything I knew about science and the world we live in told me it could not exist. Yet, there it was, in mocking defiance of my former sense of reality. My denial kept me from believing my eyes. I rubbed them hoping maybe a piece of dust had wondered onto my cornea and was playing tricks with my vision. Sadly the only thing playing tricks on me was this thing sitting on the counter. Before me in my very kitchen was an arrogant middle finger to God. It spit on the foundation of my reason and made me question my own existence. Before me was a box banana.

My therapist would later tell me that it was the middle of the night and I was “gelling” on Dr. Scholl’s massaging gel insoles. When you are high on Scholl’s, your mind can make you see all kinds of crazy things. But I have been getting prescriptions from the good doctor for awhile and my hallucinations had never brought me anything like this.

After a few minutes of pacing back and forth across the kitchen tiles, I reached out to touch it. My fingertips slowly skimmed over its skin. This banana, if I can even call it that, was as real as I was. It felt like a regular banana. It was the same yellow color as a classic banana. It had a stem and a little brown thing on the other end like any other banana. But it had no curvature or roundness. It had six distinct faces all at right angles to their neighbors. In geometry this would be called a rectangular prism. In my kitchen I called it terror.

My adrenaline and my curiosity were building. I had to determine if this banana was really as level as it appeared. I ran to the hall closet. In the dim lighting I found a bubble level. To my dismay the four sides of the banana were level. I could not measure the two ends as the banana’s stem prevented me from laying the yellow fruit on its ends. I rotated the banana to a new side and placed my level ever so carefully on top. The bubble of air fell perfectly between the two guidelines. It seemed as if the little air bubble was conspiring against me as well. I flipped the banana around and measured it over and over for what had to have been fifteen minutes. I finally gave in to defeat. This banana was as square as anything I had ever seen.

My mind started to wonder for a few moments. I knew a guy who might have access to a laboratory with an ultra-precise digital level. Then my thoughts crashed. I realized something I should have immediately asked myself upon seeing the banana. How did it get in my apartment? My eyes dart around the room. I did not know what I was expecting to see. Maybe I would find a hidden camera filming my reaction as part of some new TV prank show titled “Fuck with Fantana”. Or maybe in the corner of the room I would find the devil himself, here to bait me into some elaborate scheme to win over my soul. Unless the Dark Prince would accept a plastic recorder dual over that of a fiddle, I would be damned for sure. My search of the apartment revealed nothing. The only ones here were me and this accursed banana.

What does one do in this situation? I called my former minister. A man of God should know what to do with such a demon. But after that incident with the communion wafers, he may still be angry with me. I figured I would pretend to be a new attendant in desperate need of some late night guidance. After about seven rings he answered his phone. In a groggy and hesitant tone, he said hello. I pictured in my head Walter Cronkite as I tried to disguise my voice the best I could.

“Hello Reverend Michaels,” I began to speak.

“Bryan, why in the good Lord’s name would you be calling me at three o’clock in the morning?” Shit. I forgot about caller ID. I dropped the voice.

“Sir, I need your help. There is a demon in my apartment.”

“A demon? Are you high on Dr. Scholl’s again?”

“Sir, I may have had some Scholl’s earlier in the evening, but I can assure you I am fairly sober. There is an aberration in my kitchen.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There is a demon banana in my kitchen. It’s yellow like a regular banana, it’s about the size of a regular banana, and it feels like a regular banana, but it isn’t a regular banana. It’s not round. It is shaped like a box. Four long sides, all flat and at right angles to each other. There is a stem and a nipple thing on the ends like normal bananas.”

“Son, is this another one of your jokes?”

“No sir, I-”

“Do you think I forgot about the little stunt with the communion wafers?”

“I was hoping you would have by now.”

“We had to replace nineteen pews because of you.”

“I was foolish and I am sorry.”

“Bryan, do not ever call me again.”

He hung up. I turned back to the banana. It was still there on the counter where I left it. I grabbed a chair and sat with the box banana for another hour. Then I made another revelation. What if this abomination was profitable? I could sell this mysterious fruit to a university or possibly DARPA. This banana could hold some powerful secrets. It could be the cure for leukemia or the answer to some ancient Aztec puzzle. Perhaps between its eight corners lies a weapon more powerful than anything ever described in the pages of science fiction.

Then I realized a better way to make money from this gift. With this banana I could single-handedly resurrect the lost art of the carnival freak show. Dwarfs and the absurdly tall, women with facial hair and the thousand pound men who love them, the sword swallowers and the citizens of New Jersey. All would be able to once again show themselves in the light of day and have paying customers gawk at them for five minutes at a time. All thanks to the star of the show, this little pioneering rectangular fruit. This was my yellow ticket out of this town.

Maybe I was growing attached to the banana. I was becoming less and less afraid of it. I decided to name it Cindy. In Cindy I had a future. I scrambled together a nest for her out of a pizza box and some plastic bags. I sat her and her new nest on top of the refrigerator. She may have been my money maker, but she still creeped me the fuck out. Up high she would be safe and out of my sight until morning when I could drive to city hall and get the permits to start my own freak show in my backyard. A grin crossed my face as I laid my head on the pillow and thought about my bed with piles of cash instead of bed sheets.

Then she was gone. The next morning I frantically tried to find her. The nest was empty. The box was still closed and the bags looked undisturbed. She simply vanished. I combed every inch of my apartment. All I found was disappointment. I pounded on my neighbors’ doors. The ones who were home looked at me with confusion, partly because they did not know what I was talking about and partly because I was still dressed in the boxers and the Kenny Rogers t-shirt I had worn to bed the night before. But in reality I knew they had not taken her. She left on her own. She had exited my life just as abruptly and strangely as she came in.

I got dressed before the couple next door could call the police. With my dreams of being a freak show organizer dashed upon the rocks, I walked onto my patio. I lit a cigarette and slid some gel insoles into my tennis shoes. The nirvana started to set in and my thoughts of the night before faded away.

BP Oil Spill Solution

2010-05-23T11:43:00.008-04:00

~ Proposal by Bryan Fantana

On April 20, 2010, a fire and subsequent explosion tore apart the Deepwater Horizon offshore drilling platform in the Gulf of Mexico near Louisiana. One can only assume this explosion was the result of an encounter between a good-looking CIA agent with nothing to lose and a double-crossing rogue admiral who just tried to kill the president. The “blowout” (i.e. “hole caused by admiral’s bungling henchman accidentally shooting something important with a bazooka”) has released up to 100,000 barrels of oil into the Gulf as of this writing. The entire oil field is estimated to store around 50 million barrels. BP (the folks who own the majority of the pipeline and a majority of your soul) are being held accountable for the problem and for cleaning it up. However all efforts thus far have failed. They’ve tried pouring chemicals into the ocean, lighting the oil on fire, and putting a dome over the rupture. Kevin Costner is talking about some centrifugal separator which could divide oil from water. Listen BP. When all of those efforts fail, maybe you can finally use my solution. This solution is the best choice we have. I used a selection matrix and everything.

Here is my plan, which I shall from this point forward refer to as the Fantana Just Fixed America plan (or F.J.F.A., pronounced "FJFA"). The plan will involve two stages. Stage I will be fixing the hole in the pipeline. I know this guy named Seth who has some scuba gear, a MIG welder, and some scrap sheet metal from when he attempted to build a hang glider last summer. Consider that hole patched. Stage II of F.J.F.A. will involve removing the oil from the Gulf. Do you remember New Orleans? It is still pretty much fucked even five years after Katrina. I suggest we stop trying to rebuild New Orleans. Instead replace the city with a giant centrifugal pump. This pump will push the oil-water mixture from the Gulf of Mexico up through the Mississippi River. The blend will travel through Louisiana, Mississippi, and Tennessee until it reaches Nashville. There the mixture will sit in an oil reservoir. The oil and water will naturally separate and the oil can be skimmed from the surface whenever it is convenient. Stage II is summarized in the diagram below.

This plan is perfect. Not only does it solve the oil problem in the Gulf of Mexico, it also tackles several other national problems. First it takes care of that problem of a missing Great Lake. This country could use a sixth Great Lake, one which is warmer and further south. Lake Fantana should be a suitable name. I already have a mnemonic for the new Lakes:

My Humble Fantana Owns Eight Spiders
(Michigan Huron Fantana Ontario Erie Superior)

Don’t worry ladies, I don’t actually own any spiders. Aside from creating Lake Fantana, it will finish off Nashville and, one can only hope, country music. That alone is worth the cost and man-hours necessary for this project.

There are some technical considerations. I did a few basic calculations. Fluid mechanics was never my strong suit. But I know how to write things on restaurant napkins. How much power do we need and how much will it cost? Based on Bernoulli’s equation,

P = 0.5 Q v^2 + g Q’ h - (Denture Cream)/(2 pi) + [McDonald’s Tensor] * [{Lambda} x {the Dick Chaney vector}]

where P is the required power, Q is the flow rate … you know what, just trust me on this. The required power works out to be 38 MW. Running for a year at $4 per kWh, the pump will cost $1,332,000,000. It will cost an estimated $949,000,000 to build the pump, putting the total cost of the project at $2.3 billion. Certainly such a price tag is justified by plunging Nashville into a black abyss – oh! I mean … to clean up the environment … and protect ducklings.

I know there are some civil engineers out there looking over my power equation while screaming “HEAD LOSS! HEAD LOSS! DEAR SWEET KETTLECORN, HEAD LOSSSSS!!!!” Friction forces will rob some energy from the flowing mixture as it makes its long voyage to Nashville. Don’t worry, I thought of that too. As the pump is being constructed, the National Guard will dump some Teflon resin into the Mississippi river to make the bottom slippery and reduce head loss.

There you have it. I just solved, like, nine different national problems in one stroke. Mr. Obama, I will be eagerly awaiting my medal and my Great Lake. When this is all settled, I think it is time the president and others hear some of my other ideas. Like building a moon base.

Schrödinger’s Hamster

2010-04-25T11:25:00.009-04:00

~ Article by Bryan Fantana

It is another restless summer night. My thoughts of her keep me awake. My neighbor and Guitar Hero are not helping my situation. The sounds of his thirty-eighth attempt to beat Nirvana’s “Smells like Teen Spirit” pulsate through the drywall. I stare at the ceiling wondering how I am supposed to wake up early tomorrow for work. It looks like another sleepless night. If I stay awake tonight, maybe I can sneak out early and take a nap after lunch tomorrow. That sounds like a plan. A desperate, sleep-deprived plan.

I put on a pair of jeans and head to my car. My stomach rumbles. Dinner was a long time ago. I drive across town to the Waffle House. If I am to stay awake and fix this growing hunger, I am going to need some coffee and some bacon. At 2 AM Waffle House is the perfect place for both. Finally at my destination, I pass through the glass doors and take a seat at the bar. I look around briefly. There are four others in the room with me. Two are a small child and her mother sitting at a booth near a window. The little girl is using a crayon to redraft the placemats. The mother is talking to the child or possibly just herself. I am not quite sure. A few stools down from me sits an older, white-haired man. He is staring at the pattern in the counter. In front of him is a cold omelet with two bites missing. The fourth person is the waitress. She approaches and asks how I am doing tonight. My reply is a swift, “I need a cup of coffee and a plate of bacon.”

“Just bac–“

“Yes. A small mountain of crispy pig strips. Now.” She shuffles away. Was that too rude of me? Probably. But right now, after the last few months, I could not care less for womankind.

I look back to the other man at the bar. He seems very intent on staring a hole through the counter. Maybe he has convinced himself he has laser vision and he is trying to make his superpower work. Then I notice his face. He is tense. Something is bothering him. I am not sure what compels me to check on this man. Some shred of compassion? Perhaps I have heard too many motivational speeches recently.

“Hey,” I speak softly, “are you okay?” He turns his head toward me. Now his eyes are staring at me. I hope he really doesn’t have laser vision.

“No. No I am not,” he mumbles. “I haven’t slept well the past few nights.” It sounds like a story to which I can relate.

“I’m sorry. What is bothering you?” I don’t really care, but I feel it is rude not to ask at this point.

“My name is Dr. Scott Anderson. I am a physicist – a professor – at the university. About a week ago I was reading a journal article when I came across the most interesting puzzle. … Say, maybe you can help me.”

“I am no physicist. I had this Polish guy for physics a few years ago and nobody could understand a word he said.”

“That’s okay. Maybe just saying this out loud will help me solve this riddle.” Dr. Anderson pauses and gives a brief sigh. “Have you ever heard of Schrödinger’s Hamster?”

I think for a moment. “I have heard of Schrödinger’s cat, although I don’t really know much about it.”

“Schrödinger’s cat was a thought experiment which reveals an apparent contradiction in the Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics.” He pauses again briefly. I know a few mechanics who using chewing tobacco, but I don’t know how some guy’s cat fits into this picture. I raise an eyebrow and give a small nod. I attempt to give the impression that I understood what he meant.

He resumes. “Schrödinger also proposed another thought experiment involving a hamster. Schrödinger liked to think about torturing animals. He named the hamster Scooter. In this scenario Scooter is placed inside a box. In the box the hamster is forced to walk across a network of tiny wires suspended above a vat of nitric acid. The non-insulated copper wires are electrically connected to form two main branches. Each branch is wired to the lead of a transformer which can supply up to 750 volts to the network. If the transformer is on and Scooter contacts both branches at the same time, a violent surge of current will flow through his heart and kill him almost instantly. Now, the switch that turns on the transformer is connected to a controller and a detector/emitter setup outside of the box. The emitter isotropically projects sigma tachyons to a distance of about 10,000 kilometers. Should the sigma tachyons encounter my wife sleeping with her boss Ron, then the particles will be reflected back to the detector unit. The controller will receive a signal from the detector and the controller will activate the transformer, frying Scooter.”

I lean back on my stool. I doubt this is a scenario posed by Schrödinger or something Dr. Anderson could have read in a scholarly journal. That is not even a paradox. The man is disturbed. The waitress brings over my bacon and coffee. That was fast, but then again, it was just a plate of bacon and a cup of coffee.

“This gives rise to several possible scenarios,” he continues. “Suppose my wife tells me she has to work late again tonight despite the fact State Farm closes their office at five o’clock. It cannot be known for certain if she is really staying over late to work on those weekly reports or if she is having sex on the copying machine. I attempted to make an observation. I drove down to the office. Her car was there. So was Ron’s. The rest of the parking lot was empty. The blinds were shut so I couldn’t see inside even with my binoculars. Someone visiting the post office nearby saw me and threatened to call the cops. Can’t a guy fucking look out a car window with some binoculars?” He sighs. “Since a direct observation could not be ascertained, it cannot be known with 100% certainty that she is breaking her wedding vows. Therefore Scooter’s outcome cannot be known with 100% certainty. He exists in a state of probabilities.”

It seems like I am not the only one who is having problems with a girl. I would offer some condolence, but it seems as though Dr. Anderson is a little too far off the deep end. I continue to nod my head while avoiding direct eye contact. Eye contact is easy to avoid at this point. He is staring at the counter while rambling with no apparent awareness that I or anyone else in the diner exist. The awkwardness continues to build. I bite into another piece of bacon.

“Sometimes she will get text messages while we are out at dinner or the movies. I hate that text messaging garbage. I wish we never got texting. She is constantly on her phone. She says she is texting her sister Laura, but I don’t believe her. Not for hours at a time. She gets defensive about it. I saw on the news something called ‘sexting’ where people talk dirty and send pictures using their phones. … oh, wait … I did find a picture of her in lingerie on our computer, lingerie I bought her for our anniversary two years ago. I didn’t take that photo.” His voice gets louder. “Why was a photo of my wife in lingerie on the computer? What if that whore is using the Internet or her cell phone to seduce that scumbag Ron?” Then his voice gets very mellow. “But then … what happens to Scooter?” He stops and stares wide-eyed at the counter. “Hmm. Let me think …” He twitches his fingers and mumbles a little too himself. I can only make out a few of the words. “If …integrate … available wavelengths … two pi over L …” He is doing integrals in his head at almost three in the morning. Nothing good can come from this. I am a bit scared this guy will repeatedly stab me with his fork at any moment.

“I’ve got it!” he exclaims while turning toward me. We are making direct eye contact. I wet myself. “While sexting and dirty photos are not the same as physical intimacy, they would still reflect the sigma tachyons. However, there will be a slight additional redshift. The detector will receive these altered sigma tachyons and the controller will activate the centrifugal fan inside the box, which will exert enough force on tiny Scooter to blow him off the wires and into the nitric acid below. …” His eyes return to the counter. He shakes his head. “Poor Scooter. Poor Scooter.”

Dr. Anderson becomes silent. I glance around the room. The mother and daughter have left and the waitress is wiping up their table. My discomfort is unbearable. I finish one last piece of bacon. I slowly retrieve my wallet and pull out a twenty. I place it beside my half-eaten plate of bacon and my barely touched cup of coffee. Dr. Anderson is seemingly oblivious. His eyes are tearing up. What do I do? I have to get out of here. Do I say something or do I just walk out? Thinking quickly I scoop up the salt shaker and I hurl it at his face. I think some of the salt went in his eye, but I don’t take the time to check. I haul ass out of the Waffle House and spin my tires flooring it through the parking lot. I do not go straight home, but I do stick to the main roads. While checking my mirrors for any pursuers, I start to feel awful for throwing that salt shaker at the guy. It sounded like his wife was a whore. Then some stranger throws a salt shaker at his face at 3 AM in a Waffle House. Wow I am a terrible person. Then again, who wouldn’t have freaked out?

To this day I wonder whatever happened to the professor. Maybe he confronted his wife about the photo or the long hours at work and she confessed to the affair. Maybe she got tired of her controlling and deranged husband and divorced him. Or perhaps he finally snapped and killed his wife with some kind of electrified shower-based death trap. Like Schrödinger’s hamster, the fate of Dr. Anderson is uncertain.

VH1's Celebreality: Love Genre

2010-04-11T12:06:00.020-04:00

~ Article by Bryan Fantana

I am a talented man. The problem is my talents tend to be few and eccentric. Besides being able to give women multiple orgasms, I have an above average knowledge of crappy VH1 programming. VH1 has a diverse set of programming which it calls “celebreality”, which is an obvious combination of the words “celebrity” and “we hired a bunch of writers and editors to convert footage of people bowling and picking their noses into a dramatic storyline.” Within this set there is a subset of shows which I shall refer to as the “Love Genre.” Most of the shows under the Love Genre are reality dating shows where contestants compete for the affections of the main star. However the Love Genre does include other elimination-themed game shows. Presented here is a summary of the VH1’s Love Genre. I did some research to verify facts and ensure accuracy. I am ashamed to admit how much of this I was able to recite from memory.

The link below directs you to a reference chart for this discussion. Open the link in another window. Have this page and the chart side by side. Do not open the chart in a tab. So help me God I will beat you with a lug wrench if you use tab browsing while viewing my site.

Love Genre Reference Chart:
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4068/4517771710_c51442f1cc_o.jpg

Let me explain a little about the image you are seeing. The diagram is a simple flowchart. Each box is a show. The color of the box indicates the era or saga of the show. The sagas are broader classifications that serve some organizational purpose, e.g. the Flavor Saga deals with Flavor Flav and offshoots of his dating show. The numbers inside the box are the number of seasons followed by the number of episodes. These figures are good indicators of the popularity and success of the show. A “derivative” of a show is a direct spinoff that has one or more individuals passing from the parent show to the daughter show. An “inspiration” is where a show influenced VH1 to create another show similar to the first show. While most shows borrow from one another, the inspirations have a stronger and somewhat more obvious connection.

Now for a little more detail. Below are descriptions of the sagas and sub sagas from the Love Genre. The dates of the sagas are from the earliest premier of any show under that saga to the airing of the last episode of any show under that saga. The end dates could change should VH1 decide they still hate America and create another show or season. Please inform me if I left out a show or I have an inaccurate detail.

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Pre-Flavor Era
(January 9, 2003 –
March 9, 2008)

All of this started with The Surreal Life, a show where “celebrities” of various types were placed in a house together and forced to complete tasks, put up with each other, drink all of the alcohol in the house, etc. It was inspired by similar shows with non-celebrities, such as The Real World and Big Brother. The series originally aired on The WB before it made its move to VH1. Two relationships developed from The Surreal Life. One was Christopher Knight (Peter Brady from the Brady Bunch) and Adrianne Curry (winner of America’s Next Top Model season one). Their relationship was the basis for a spinoff called My Fair Brady. The couple argued, got married, and talked about having a baby. The other relationship from The Surreal Life was Flavor Flav (a.k.a William Jonathan Drayton Jr.; rapper for Public Enemy) and Brigitte Nielsen (Danish television and movie actress). They too got their own spinoff titled Strange Love, so named because Flavor Flav was a short black fellow and Brigitte Nielsen was a talk white … fellow? After constant fighting, the two went their separate ways. Brigitte moved to Italy and Flavor Flav got his own dating game show. Thus was born the Flavor Saga.

The snowball had begun to roll.

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Flavor Saga
(January 1, 2006 –
March 28, 2010)

It was January 2006. The start of a brand new year. Due to the success of Strange Love, VH1 gave Flavor Flav his own television dating show. The show mirrored The Bachelor, The Bachelorette, and family reunion games in West Virginia. Each week “ladies” competed for the affections of Flavor Flav and eack week one of them was sent home. The final girl got the once in a lifetime chance to be with Flavor Flav for two weeks before he realized she was fifty times the skank she said she was in the audition tapes. During the first episode, Flav renamed each of the girls. Nicknames included Hoopz, New York, Pumkin, Apples, Hottie, Like Dat, Hotlanta, and Deelishis. The ritual of giving the contestants absurd nicknames would carry on to many of the other shows in the Love Genre.

The show went on for three seasons and was a phenomenal success for VH1. In the end Flavor Flav was left alone and heartbroken. No one knows where he is now. Some say he returned to his home world, a tiny planet called Etop in orbit around Vega. Others suspect he might be stuck in a ball pit at a Burger King in Winnsboro, Louisiana. Regardless the show became the source for several spinoffs and an inspiration for other projects. The saga includes Flavor of Love, the New York Sub Saga, Frank the Entertainer … in a Basement Affair, and Real Chance of Love. In addition two Charm Schools feature cast members from Flavor of Love.

The snowball was picking up speed.

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New York Sub Saga
(January 1, 2006 -
June 29, 2009)

During season one of Flavor of Love, the world was introduced to New York, a firecracker who always found herself in the center of some dispute. Producers decided to give New York her own show, I Love New York, where several guys from nearby discount liquor stores competed for the attention of our vixen. She went on to star in New York Goes to Hollywood, a short-lived series where New York tries to launch her acting career. This was followed by New York Goes to Work, a show where she was required to work manual labor jobs. This concept of a city girl forced to sweat on a farm someplace in Iowa was a revolutionary concept in television. In the accompanying chart, the New York Sub Saga is strictly defined as those shows which feature New York herself. It should be noted these shows are still classified under the Flavor Saga.

Like New York’s spinoff show, three courters from I Love New York got their own dating shows. Frank the Entertainer starred in Frank the Entertainer … in a Basement Affair. Here ladies competed for Frank’s affections while staying in his parents’ house. The guy still lives with his parents? What a loser! Real Chance of Love was another spinoff starring brothers “Real” and “Chance”. It was unique from the other shows as it had TWO (2) guys eliminating female contestants … at the same time!

The snowball was growing.

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Bret Michaels Saga
(July 15, 2007 –
present)

The Flavor of Love saga spurred producers to try their magic again. This time, instead of grabbing another contestant from a previous show, they hired a casting director. The casting director dredged up Bret Michaels from the bowels of almost total obscurity. His three seasons of Rock of Love featured rock and roll girls, i.e. drunk white chicks, fighting for a chance to be the Bret Michaels Groupie of the Month and get her very own commemorative plaque. Season three (titled Rock of Love Bus) had the girls tour with Bret and his glam metal band Poison while they visited town fairs and geriatric clinics. Season four is under development. Two girls were given their own shows, Daisy with Daisy of Love and Megan with Megan Wants a Millionaire. As one might guess, Megan Wants a Millionaire required the contestants to be millionaires. VH1 aired three episodes of Megan Wants a Millionaire before authorities charged contestant Ryan Jenkins with the murder of his wife, Jasmine Fiore. This was also the reason season three of I Love Money is “postponed”.

The snowball was now covered in hairspray, used condoms, and shame.

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Charm School Sub Saga
(April 15, 2007 -
July 27, 2009)

Flavor of Love Girls: Charm School was the first in the Charm School Sub Saga. The show is a spinoff of Flavor of Love where some of the girls from various seasons of Flavor of Love are again forced to compete, not for the gold encrusted heart of Flavor Flav, but instead for the approval of the beautiful and talented Mo ‘Nique (I have a think for strong, sassy black women). The girls were supposed to learn manners, but somehow their wild girl roots always seemed to creep in and cause trouble. Each week one girl was eliminated. I’m really not sure why. Sharon Osbourne later formed a new Charm School to teach the Rock of Love girls some civility. The show was pretty much the same as the first Charm School. VH1 producers allowed Ricki Lake to try her hand at disciplining these wild girls with Charm School with Ricki Lake. This show featured contestants from both Real Chance of Love and Rock of Love. Mind. Fucking. Blown.

That snowball has tumbled to the bottom of the hill and plowed through an orphanage.

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Ray J Saga
(February 2, 2009 –
February 8, 2010)

Have you ever heard of Ray J? He is an R&B artist. He’s the brother of Brandy. Who’s Brandy? She used to be famous a few years ago. She was the girl from Moesha. Yeah I didn’t watch that show either. Okay, do you know Snoop Dogg? Alright you know Snoop Dogg. Illest mofo on the west coast. Snoop Dogg is Ray J and Brandy’s cousin. Not really descriptive. Umm … did you ever see the Kim Kardashian sex tape? Ah, of course you have! He’s the guy in the video. Okay, now you know who I’m talking about. VH1 gave him a dating show too. More of the same, but Ray J did introduce America to the phrase “Smash the homie” and Tom Green made a few appearances. I always assumed Tom Green died trying to climb into a whale’s vagina. Good to know he is still alive I guess. Hey … you are not paying attention, are you? You are still thinking about Kim Kardashian? Goddamnit.

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Clusterfuck
(July 6, 2008 -
May 10, 2009)

Finally we have I Love Money, a completely for greed contest where members from all of the sagas competed for $250,000 and a trip to a urologist to find out the cause of that burning sensation (Spoiler Alert!: It’s herpes). These were actually the most boring shows under the Love Genre.

The snowball has wiped out the entire town. The president sends in the National Guard to search for survivors. The few left alive cling to the soldiers, desperate to get out of the disaster zone. The media swarms with questions of “Why?” and “How could this happen?” Blame quickly falls on VH1 producers. They are brought before the gallows. In the aftermath, when the chaos finally gives way to calm and life seems to return to normal, a man in an office cubical in Philadelphia will have a revolution. The VH1 producers were not the cause of the disaster. We were. We watched this filth. We let the snowball grow and consume. A single tear drips down the man’s cheek before he returns to his monthly reports.

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There you have it. You have just read my brief overview of the Love Genre. Now you can confidently gossip at the water cooler about obscure celebrities ... or something. I have no idea why anyone should read this. Too late now. If you cannot sleep tonight and you would like to numb your mind with more useless information, consult your nearest Wikipedia or celebrity blog. Future employers interested in my talents can call my people.

Letter to Quiznos

2010-03-28T00:25:00.016-04:00

~ Letter by Bryan Fantana

Dear Quiznos,

Fuck you. I was in your once fine and lovely establishment a few days ago. It had been awhile since I had last ventured to the shores of the Land of Delicious Sandwiches. I was more than eager to taste the bountiful feast that is your famous meatball sub. As I started to place my order, I glanced at your menu. Something was different. Then, quietly in my mind, I thought “Wait … where is the meatball sub?” I read over the menu boards. My eyes cut to the menu sticker pasted to the glass shield that separated the employees from me and my building rage. No where did I read the words “meatball sub”. I looked for synonyms. “Sausage ball sandwich?” “Spherical ground meat hoagie?” Nothing. I stepped outside and scanned the storefront. I was at a Quiznos and it was during normal operating hours. I did not see Rod Serling anywhere, so I was pretty sure I did not cross into the Twilight Zone some time between the steps of my apartment and the glass doors of this establishment. What was happening here? I returned inside and looked for notices from management. Maybe supplies of meatballs were limited due to a shortage of deliciousness. I saw no notices from management. I had reached the only conclusion there was to reach: Quiznos discontinued the meatball sub.

In defeat I settled for a Classic Italian. It was a good sandwich, but it failed to truly satisfy my appetite. Alas, now I find myself wondering. What happened here? It started with the toasty torpedo and your homoerotic toaster ovens. Then it moved onto the “bullet”. You can’t just make a thinner version of a regular sandwich and sell it as something new. This is America. That is the exact opposite of how it works around here. Now, this meatball travesty? You really dropped the ball here guys. (Yes, the pun was intended.) Did your girlfriend just break up with you before the big dance? Are you afraid of money and success? All of this is crazy. No more meatball subs at Quiznos? I … I … I don’t believe what I’m hearing! Obi-Wan was right … you’ve changed. You have turned to the dark side. You’re not Quiznos anymore. Quiznos, you are breaking my heart.

Quiznos, I need you. We all need you. You were the last great hope we had in a national sandwich shop chain that does not suck. Do you think I can trust the Subway across the street? Until I stepped into a Subway, I would have never guessed “bland” had a smell. I do not care how good of a deal the $5 footlong is. Damn you Subway. Now I cannot continue writing my tirade until I say “Five dollar …. five dollar … five dollar foot looooong!” Fuck you too Subway, with your Jared, your Michael Phelps, and your fake brick wallpaper stickers.

And don’t get me started on Jimmy John’s. Walk into a Jimmy John’s. Any of them will do. When the perky cashier asks for your order, say a random number between 1 and 17 and ask for a cup for water. Pay for your sandwich and your water because Jimmy John’s is too cheap to let you fill up that 5 milliliter cup with tap water for free. Then when you get your sandwich, unwrap it and take a few bites. What will be the taste in your mouth? Bread, lettuce, and mayo. Come back the next day, yell out another random number, and keep doing this every day until your realize they only know how to make one sandwich. How else do you explain their “freaky fast” speed? What is the training video like? If you do find yourself at a Jimmy John’s, order the BLT. The crunch of bacon in the middle of the soggy clump will remind you, at least briefly, that you are eating a sandwich.

Then we find ourselves talking about Panera. (On a side note, who says “Panera Bread”?) Panera is good. Very good. But it is hard pressed to win me over with prices that rival the costs of small appliances. I am convinced Panera is a cover for a black market operation and the organizers simply did not take the time to research realistic food prices. Sometimes I ask the girl behind the counter for blood diamonds or a three-toed sloth. I have yet to get anything but stares. Maybe she has seen too many movies and mistakes my dashing good looks and suave as those of a FBI agent. One day I will uncover the password that allows me to commune with the Panera underworld.

All of this brings me back to you, Quiznos. You were a shop that could provide succulent sandwiches without the rip off. Then, you shot yourself in the foot by removing the meatball sub. For shame Quiznos. FOR SHAME!

I can help you if you would like my advice. Maybe you are kept awake late at night by the thoughts of profits and happy customers. In which case ignore my advice. Keep walking the road to total failure. But if you want my advice, be aware your path of redemption will not be simple. Reinstating the meatball sub to its former ranks will be your first priority. Then show your customers you are truly sorry for this incident. You can start with lowering overall prices. This will be a good transition until your real salvation arrives: koala supreme subs. Nothing shows your customers you care for them more than to hire poachers to capture wild koalas, sneak them into America, fillet them into tiny strips, and serve them with fresh garden veggies on warm, toasted, whole wheat bread. Not even Panera has koalas.

I believe there is still some hope for you. There … is good in Quiznos. I know there is … still…

Sincerely,
Bryan Fantana

Cheat Codes for Life

2009-06-28T11:34:00.016-04:00

~ Cheats cracked by Bryan Fantana

Often I wonder what life would be like if reality was like a videogame. I imagine a world where I could jump off a building, splat on the ground, and then suddenly appear in front of a hospital. I imagine a world where no one sleeps and everyone has a red health meter floating above their heads. I imagine a world where everything I could ever need is spinning inside a glowing white cloud four feet off the ground.

Then, ladies and gentlemen, I discovered something big. It turns out we really do live in a big video game. How do I know? The world has cheat codes. After years of hoping back and forth between tiles on my kitchen floor, I have managed to unlock some hidden glitches in reality. Here are the ones I have found so far.

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Make All of the Traffic Lights Green
Code: Forward, back, left, tap the back of your hand three times, left, forward
Notes: Code only works while walking.

---
No Lines at DMV
Code: Right, forward, jump, jump, spin one full turn clockwise, yell “I have a bomb”
Notes: There will be no lines, but also no workers. This may not be your desired result.

---
Walk through Walls
Code: Right, right, quarter turn counterclockwise, jump up, right, right, half turn clockwise, run as fast as you can towards a wall.
Notes: When you run towards the wall, you must be fully dedicated. If you are not fully committed to getting through that wall, you will not make it. You must run as fast as possible. You might have trouble at first, but the code will work.

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Automatic A on the Test
Code: B, A, C, A, D, D, C, B, D, A, C, A, B, A, C, C, D, A, C, B
Notes: You must put a smiley face for the form number.

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Invisibility
Code: Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, belch, pass gas.
Notes: You can see yourself, but no one can see you. Code does not make clothes invisible. You will have to take them off.

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Have All Guns
Code: Put your right foot in, put your right foot out, put your right foot in, shake it all about, then do NOT turn yourself about.
Notes: It is strongly advised you do not perform this code at an airport.

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Unlock Hidden Divorce Court Episode
Code: While sitting at home unemployed at 2:00 PM, slide to the left, slide to the right, stand up, lick your thumb, yell “I ain’t gonna pay no stickin’ child support!”
Notes: In this hidden episode of Divorce Court, Judge Mablean Ephriam snaps, leaps over the bench, and severely beats an overweight woman who showed up to court in her curlers.

---
DK Mode
Code: Right, right, twiddle your thumbs clockwise four times, jump, crouch, right, shake hands with a clerk at the patent office.
Notes: DK Mode causes everyone (including you) to have large arms and giant heads. This code is great for struggling chiropractors who need more patients in hard economic times.

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Unlock the Sword of the Forsaken
Code: Drive to Daytona, punch an old woman in the face, drive back to your house, on the way back be sure to drive at least 88 MPH for the majority of the trip, order a hot dog (it does not matter what’s on it) from Sheetz.
Notes: Be extra careful not to touch the blade. The sword is engulfed in flames and poison oak.

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Turbo Speed
Code: Left, left, right, jump, crouch, right, 18/37 turn clockwise
Notes: Causes you to move really fast.

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Slow Motion
Code: Left, left, right, jump, crouch, right, turn clockwise any amount other than 18/37 turn.
Notes: Causes you to move very slowly.

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Add $999,999 to Your Bank Account
Code: Back, left, half spin to the left, forward, forward, jump, jump, crouch, enjoy a track from P. Diddy.
Notes: Try as you much as you like, you will not enjoy P. Diddy.

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Live as Whoopi Goldberg
Code: On your birth certificate, enter your name as “_Wompa__Stompa”. Then while living your life, jump, jump, left, quarter turn counterclockwise, cry for five minutes, crouch, left.
Notes: To return to your normal body, eat a cheeseburger.

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Invincibility
Code: Left, left, jump, drink two gallons of milk in fifteen minutes, stand in a small chalk circle on the floor for five hours, jump.
Notes: While the code makes you invincible, you are emotionally vulnerable. Your significant other will make comments about your outfit which you will take too seriously. Spiraling into a pit of depression, you will attempt to take your own life by lying in traffic. However, since you are invincible, cars and buses will run over you without doing you bodily harm.

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Get a Smoking Hot, Funny, Super Intelligent Girlfriend Who Likes You for Who You Are
Code: Left, left, jump, right, jump, crouch, right, half turn clockwise, do a pull up, run three miles, right, left, try a somersault, hop three times on your left foot while holding your right elbow, jump, left, crouch, crouch, recite “Hakuna Matata”, tap right foot four times on marble floor, float upward four meters, spin 76 degrees about the y-axis, return to the ground, throw your hat in the air, beat up Corey Feldman, sign the Declaration of Independence, jump, crouch, right, left.
Notes: This code works perfectly. For the ladies who want a code for “getting a smoking hot, funny, super intelligent boyfriend who likes you for who you are”, might I suggest you stop being such a bitch?

Reese’s Pieces

2009-05-31T14:32:00.006-04:00

~ Poem by Bryan Fantana

Gather around everyone because it’s story time.
Be quiet children and listen to this rhyme.
Brace yourself for my mad rhyming skills.
One day they might help me pay my utility bills.

Once upon a time there was a mythical land called Germany,
Where the rivers are blue and all the girls are named Jenny.
In Germany their commerce is based on whales,
And national law bans all forms of junk e-mails.

In Germany there lived a man named Timothy the Brave,
A man so great, his beard, no razor could shave.
Timothy lived in the forest and ate nothing but pinecones.
He owned nothing but a few clothes and his collection of trombones.

One day Timothy left the forest and moved to the city.
He quickly became a member of a political action committee.
Tim was a big fan of health care reform.
He believed universal health care should be the norm.

He lobbied his congressman to pass a bill,
A bill that would make Germany more like Brazil.
Everything seemed like it was going just fine.
Then suddenly the farms were being taken over by super intelligent swine.

These pigs were smart, real smart.
They could solve algebra and appreciate fine art.
Everyone ran away from the farms,
Because the hogs figured out how to use firearms.

Timothy knew he had to step in.
He would have to help out if the humans were going to win.
Tim took a break from advocating his political views.
There were a few pigs he needed to abuse.

Tim grabbed his shotgun and his trusty sheep,
Then he and Bonnie jumped into a ’94 Jeep.
The owner of the Jeep was quite mad initially.
Then Tim’s fist changed his mind officially.

In the stolen Jeep they fled,
To the tumultuous farms they speed.
Tim thought up a plan to attack the pigs while they sleep.
Bonnie didn’t think of anything because she was a sheep.

Under the cover of darkness they were creeping,
Up to where the pigs were sleeping.
Then Tim jumped up and struck with is big axe,
“Oh no,” he cried “This pig’s made of wax!”

Suddenly Tim realized he was being whipped by a leather strap.
He realized a little too late that this was a trap.
The pig whipped him until Tim was sore.
Then Tim fought back and wrestled the boar.

Tim finally ripped off the boars head.
From the capping wound green blood was bled.
He cried out, “Oh great. This is super!”
Tim had realized these pigs were from Jupiter.

The aliens from Jupiter came to take over the world,
In disguise as a little mammal with tail curled.
With all of the farms in the world mistaken,
The alien pigs could taint the Earth’s supply of bacon.

Then Tim saw a herd of pigs coming from the cornfields.
The boars were being lead by the treacherous Brooke Shields.
It seems she no longer could find a job,
So she decided to join the alien pig mob.

Thinking fast, Tim lit Bonnie’s wool.
Then stuffed her in a catapult, grabbed the lever, and gave a big pull.
The resulting explosion left nothing but bits of bacon debris,
Bits of bacon were everywhere as far as the eye could see.

As for Brooke Shields she turned out all right.
The explosion made her realize it was never her fight.
Tim rushed to her side and into his arms she was carried.
He took her back to the city were they were to be married.

Years later Tim figured out Brooke was a phony.
She was still in league with the bologna.
So Tim smote her with his beard.
Then back into the Black Forrest he disappeared.

Holidays You Never Knew Existed

2009-04-26T11:27:00.014-04:00

~ Article by Bryan Fantana

Do you wish you had more time off from work and/or school? Wish there were more holidays during the year? You are in luck. I recently met a little old woman at a flea market who told me about a plethora of new holidays. Some of them are religious in nature. Others are secular in origin. Either way be sure to thank that one-eyed woman behind the table of NASCAR-inspired ceramic plates the next time you use one of these holidays as an excuse for why you are not coming into work.

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St. Steve Aquinas Day

On this day the Catholic Church celebrates the birthday of one of their least memorable saints, St. Steve Aquinas. Brother of St. Thomas Aquinas, Steve always lived in his older brother’s shadow. While he too studied philosophy and theology, his books “On the Nature of Piglets” and “Tiny Baby Pigs and Why They Should Rule the World” never quite took off. However in the year 1260 CE, Steve managed to save a choking Pope Alexander IV from a communion wafer by using a move similar to what we today call the Heimlich maneuver. The Pope was so thankful he told Steve he would get his own holiday. The Church declared that Steve’s birthday would forever be known as St. Steve Aquinas Day. Unfortunately for Steve, his birthday was December 25.

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Accidental Marriage to a Giant Termite Awareness Day

Every February 27 Orkin advertises their Accidental Marriage to a Giant Termite Awareness Day. (The folks at Orkin get a paid day off, so this does count as a holiday.) On this day, take the time out of your day to stop and think for a moment. Does your husband or wife exhibit any of the following:

- Your husband takes frequent trips to Lowe’s or Home Depot to pick up “snacks”.

- When you were exchanging your “I Do’s”, you had trouble figuring out which of your wife’s six appendages to place the wedding ring.

- Your husband looks like a giant, ugly termite.

If you answered yes to any of these questions, your spouse could be a giant, ugly termite.

Orkin wants you to know that all is not lost. Call them at any of their local offices or visit them at www.orkin.com and click the tab that says “I Think My Spouse is a Giant Termite.” A shotgun wielding exterminator will be at your door in 2-3 business days.

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Hanukkah

It’s true. The Jews do have their own holiday. It’s like Christmas, but longer and without Jesus.

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Nickelback Remembrance Day

Every year on October 4, school children around the world join together in a moment of silence. They commemorate the release of “All the Right Reasons” by the Canadian band Nickelback. While this album was not the first in the band’s career, this was the album that featured their smash hit “Rockstar” that radio stations blared constantly and douche bags recited obsessively. Rock music suffered a critical blow that fateful day. So, out of respect for this horrifying tragedy to the music world, pause and reflect on how your terrible preferences in music are affecting the lives of those around you.

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Rengore Onix Festival of Damnation

The Rengore Onix Festival of Damnation is a holiday almost lost to the seas of time. It was started by a group of Vikings called the Gotiskul who were so badass that most of their kind were exiled from the traditional Viking clans of Scandinavia. With the exception of a few sickly children who stayed behind, the Gotiskul were banished to the remote land of HELL. There in the pits of the great inferno they tamed demons and occasionally launched raids on the gates of heaven. They had only one fear: Armageddon-o-saurus. Armageddon-o-saurus is a dinosaur biologists believe was so fearsome that it survived the comet impact at the end of the Cretaceous Period. The Gotiskul encountered the monster only briefly when they were first exploring North America centuries before Columbus. The Gotiskul teach that the Armageddon-o-saurus will someday return to usher in the utter destruction of our world. It is widely believed that Armageddon-o-saurus will arise from the arctic planes riding a flying carpet while wielding a sword in one hand, tossing a bomb with the other, and carrying Tony Danza firing a machine gun on his tongue. This is nonsense of course. Armageddon-o-saurus has wings and has no need of flying carpets. But, if you ever encounter the beast, be careful. He is self-conscious about his hair. The Gotiskul were terrified someone would insult the great beast and he would wreak his revenge upon the world. To appease Armageddon-o-saurus they held their annual Rengore Onix Festival of Damnation, a tradition still practiced to this day by the descendents of those sickly children the Gotiskul left behind. The festival is a week-long cheese tasting event starting at the beginning of the Autumn Equinox. The event features cheese imported from all over Earth and Hell. Armageddon-o-saurus is a big fan of cheese and the smell of cheese can keep him calm. However, should the descendents of the Gotiskul stop their annual cheese festival, the world will be reduced to rubble.

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Yolember

Yolember is less a holiday than a month. In fact it is the longest month of the year. Yolember lies between November and December. On the night of November 31, the Yolember fairy sprinkles Yolember dust on everyone around the world, placing them in a deep sleep for 37 days. When all of the humans are fast asleep, the Yolember fairy blows on his tiny harmonica to signal the woodland creatures that it is time to emerge and play in the human world. For 37 days and 37 nights, the animals of the forest run up and down highways, break into people’s homes, steal silverware from fine restaurants, and crap anywhere they choose. At the end of the forgotten month, the creatures return to the forest just in time for the Yolember dust to wear off. Thanks to errors in time keeping, poor sanitation in most metropolitan cities, and a conspiracy that reaches all the way to the Pope himself, most humans are completely unaware Yolember ever happens. Except for cancer. Repeated exposure to Yolember dust causes cancer in humans.

My Unfaithful Wife

2009-03-22T10:58:00.009-04:00

~ Article by Bryan Fantana

Whenever I get bored, such as during class or while driving an automobile, I have the tendency to start daydreaming. I will picture myself in various imaginary situations, such as fighting dragons, fighting space dragons, or talking to girls. The other day I placed myself in the following hypothetical situation:

Suppose I get married. Remember, this is a hypothetical exercise. Let us also suppose that one day I come home from a long day working at the salmon-canning plant only to discover my beloved in bed with someone else. What would I do?

I tried to formulate an answer only to realize the answer is strictly dependent on who is in bed with her. My mood and my actions could be drastically different for different lovers. Presume I find her in bed with:

- A guy I never met before. I would be furious at her for betraying my trust. It would almost certainly end in divorce. Do not worry about the kids. We will not have had any children. This is a hypothetical situation, not an outright laughable delusion. As for the other guy, it would depend on whether or not he knew she was married. If he did know, he would also share some of the blame and I would be angry with him. Statistically, my wife would probably cheat on me with one of the 95 % of guys out there that can kick my ass. Therefore, while I might yell at the guy, I will ask him to leave as opposed to engaging in fisticuffs. On the other hand, if the mystery man was unaware she was married, I would hold no hard feelings towards him. He would be another victim of my adulterous wife. We might even share a cold one and laugh about the situation later.

- The mailman. Obviously the mailman would know my wife and I are married from reading the addresses on our bills. Therefore he would get no sympathy from me. I would divorce my wife and file a formal complaint to the Postal Service.

- My best friend. My best friend would know my wife is married to me and that I would be hurt by their actions. The only reasonable course of action would be murder.

- My boss. I would be angered that my boss made me work overtime at the salmon-canning factory while he snuck off to get freaky with my wife. Murder.

- My roommate. Again, murder. Also I am claiming his big screen.

- A Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. As opposed to the previous situations, my wife’s actions would not bias me towards homicidal rage at all. In fact, I would only be disappointed if she forgot to set up the camcorder.

- A robot. This is a tough one to call. If the robot was not sentient, it would merely be a complicated vibrator. I could only accuse my wife of masturbation, which is a “no harm, no foul” situation in my book. However if the robot is indeed sentient, then we run into problems. If he is sentient, does that also make him “human”? If so then I suppose that would constitute cheating. In this case I would not be angry at my cheating wife as I would be too busy trying to give the robot a plasma gun for an arm and turning him into Mega Man. But if the robot isn’t quite “human”, then we enter a bizarre grey area. Did my wife cheat on me if she had sex with a machine with the moral status of a lobster? I must conclude that upon entering the bedroom and finding my wife in bed with a robot I would have to administer a Turing test to the robot. I would base further decisions upon the results.

- My clone. This is another tricky situation. Does my wife realize she has been in bed with a clone and not the real me? Maybe she made a clone of me so she could get the attention I am not able to give her. This would be my cue to cut back on my hours at the salmon-canning factory and spend some quality time with her. However if she does not know, then perhaps he is my doppelganger here to kill me and take over my life. This case will result in a twenty minute, action-packed fight scene throughout the house. I will finally manage to lock him in a freezer. I load the freezer into the back of my truck, take it down to the river, and dump it in. A few days later, a boy fishing with his father will discover the freezer washed up on a riverbank. He will discover the freezer is empty …

- Harrison Ford. I love Harrison Ford. I would say something like “Get off my wife!” or “You're all clear, kid! Now let’s blow this thing and go home.” However, I would only be teasing and I will leave the room feeling proud that my wife is getting some sweet loving from Harrison Ford.

- Ben Stiller. I would calmly move towards the bathroom, pull the mirror door off the medicine cabinet, and hold it in front of my wife in bed with Ben Stiller. She will respond by going “Oh God! What have I done?” and immediately thrusting the nearest sharp object into her skull thus killing herself. Ben will yell out “No! Not again!” and jump out the window.

- An orca from the future. First I would quickly look away in horror and disgust. I will make a couple of brief glances back to the scene and eventually I will stare for a few moments in amazement. Then I would scan the room to figure out how an orca managed to get into our bedroom. Is their a massive hole in the roof and Shamu was lowered in on a crane? That is when the killer whale will tell me he is from the future. His name is Sulletar and he finds intercourse with humans perfectly normal. In his time, orcas have become so intelligent and humans have become so fat and stupid that eHarmony frequently mismatches orcas with people. Ultimately humans and orcas will develop a fondness for one another. Orca-human marriages will be quite common in the future. Then I will ask “What are you doing in our time?” He will tell me about how he travelled back in time to warn us about global warming. I tell him we already know about global warming but we are too stupid and lazy to do anything significant about it. He will proceed to tell me that it is not too late and that one man can still make a difference. I will ask “Why me?” He will reply “You? You aren’t the chosen one. I already talked to Al earlier.” I will reply “Then why are you in my house?” He will respond “Your wife is really hot.” In a shimmer of silver light, he disappears back into his own time.

The Rough Draft of "Define Conservatism"

2009-03-15T10:54:00.009-04:00

~ Article by Bryan Fantana

Warning: In the following article, I make fun of a 14 year-old, conservative kid from Georgia. This may be immature, but it is really easy. For those who may be offended, may I suggest another site?

A few weeks ago, the Omni Shoreham Hotel in Washington, D.C. hosted the Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC). CPAC is a once-a-year Conservative circle jerk where political pundits and politicians meet to discuss their backward opinions, argue over who has the largest ego, and lock horns with rivals to assert dominance and woo potential mates. Oh, and I do mean literally backwards opinions. According to their straw poll statistics, 95 % of those attending disapprove of the job Barack Obama has been doing (with 80 % strongly disapproving) while republicans in Congress got a 70 % job approval rating. This is nearly the opposite of recent Gallop polls, where 67 % approve of Barack Obama and 22 % approve of republicans in Congress.

During and after the CPAC convention, the mainstream media focused mostly on the chubby and plump, right jolly elf known as Rush Limbaugh. One day I might discuss this cheerful fellow who delivers presents to all the good little children around the world once a year, but for this article I want to focus on another CPAC speaker: Jonathan Krohn. Jonathan Krohn is a 14 year-old political child prodigy. Before I go further, I think a short video of his interview with Fox News is in order. (The link is below. I would embed the video on the page, but Blogger gets weird at times when you try to do anything beyond default-format text and half a picture.)

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-698887012802745310

The hot blonde is very distracting. You might have to watch the video a few times, but trust me, there’s a kid there talking about politics. By the way, I have to give the kid credit for the Ron Paul diss.

I also have to give this little guy credit for his political skills. He can memorize conservative talking points with the best of them. He already spits ridiculous quotes like a pro. The New York Times quoted him as saying “Barack Obama is the most left-wing President in my lifetime”, which considering he was born in 1995, I assumed was a joke. The kid even looks like a tool. Watch out Sean Hannity! Jonathan might be the next big thing in the conservative arena.

I am most impressed by the fact the little guy is fourteen and already has a book. At an age when most boys are thinking about pizza, boobs, and boobs, Jonathan wrote a book. His “Define Conservatism” attempts to do just what its title suggests, define conservatism. Merriam and Webster took three sentences. Jonathan took 86 pages. I told you this kid was a political child prodigy.

A book on conservative principles and politics seems a bit advanced and too lacking-of-boobies for an adolescent his age. I was a little curious as to what the first draft of his book looked like. So, I used my l33t haxor skillz to break into his computer over the Internet. I found the first draft of his “Define Conservatism” and I am going to publish it here. This is rather illegal, so don’t tell anybody, okay? (All grammatical and spelling errors from this point forward are Jonathan’s and not my own for once.)

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DEFINE CONSERVATISM
By: Jonathan Krohn

This book is dedicated to Ronald Reagan, a hero to us all and a continuing source of inspiration.

I think that everybody in the liberal media keeps throwing around the term “conservatism” when they clearly don’t know what it means! I wrote this book to clarify some confusion around the word conservatism and set the record straight. Conservatism is a very simple word and if you can’t get it, I might have to send you back to the fifth grade! Okay, here it goes. Conservatism is about principals. This nation was founded on principals and principals are what keep it going. I have determined that conservatism is about 4 principals.

4 PRINCIPALS OF CONSERVATISM:
1) Life
2) Liberty
3) The pursuit of happyness (Great movie too!)
4) Stubbornly refusing to move forward regardless of the uncontrollable cultural, political, and technological changes that occur as our society evolves.

I will explain each of them in case they are not obvious. The first principal is life. Life is really really important. Without life we would not be here and who would praise God and His glory? I certainly don’t think dogs and cats would! Hahahaha!! The second principal is liberty. You have to have liberty. Liberty is what allows people to do stuff. Back in England before they invented liberty, the king or queen could make people do whatever he or she wanted. It was terrible. America’s invention of liberty allowed us to tell England “Thanks but no thanks! We are going to do whatever we want now.” Well, not anything we want. Obviously we can just go shooting whoever we want or allowing the gays to marry. We can do whatever as long as God is okay with it. The third princpal is the pursuit of happyness. I think anyone should have the right to be happy, and by happy I do not mean “gay”. It is not okay to be gay. The fourth principal is stubbornly refusing to move forward regardless of the uncontrollable cultural, political, and technological changes that occur as our society evolves. This is the most important principal we have!! We cannot change. If it was good enough for our ancestors, it is good enough for us. Who are we to change that? Life was so much better back then and this country is moving in the wrong direction. We need to go back to being a values-based country.

Dad says I need more than one page if I want to really call this a book so I am going to come up with more principals now.

MORE PRINCIPALS OF CONSERVATISM:
5) Jesus is awesome
6) America is awesome
7) Ronald Reagan is super awesome
8) We cannot trust Barack HUSSEIN Obama
9) Public schools are rotting children’s minds
10) Boobs are awesome
11) Republicans rule, democrats drool

It should be obvious to anyone that Jesus was awesome. This might be the most important principal of all time. Jesus died for our sins so that we may have everlasting life. Jesus is with us all the time. Jesus himself said,

“I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” - Matthew 28:20

Isn’t that just awesome? Also it goes without saying that America is awesome. We invented liberty, democracy, and everything good in this world. The rest of the world would be better off if it was like us especially if we are talking about us under Ronald Reagan. Ronald Reagan is my person hero and should be the hero of any serious conservative. One man was a huge movie star, saved his country from the horrible mistakes of Carter, defeated the Russians, and tore down the German wall. One man did all of that! He is so awesome! They even made comics about him!

Another principal is to not trust Obama. Conservatives like us are worried about the new direction this country is taking. We can NOT trust Obama. Like momma told me, “The last thing this country needs is a black man in the White House begging for change.” So true! Not only is Obama a black man, but he is a tax and spend liberal who will turn this country into a socialist state. Obama will turn our country into an amoral, socialist nation. Obama will convert everyone into his false religion of devil-worshipping, homosexual-tolerating abortionists. Remember what Ronald Reagan once said:

“Under the name of liberalism the American people they would adopt every fragment of the socialist program.” - Ronald Reagan

Another important principal is the public education system in this country is terrible. We need to get rid of this socialist institution before all of our children become brain-washed minions of the state! I was lucky enough to not go to public school and therefore was not brain-washed by the corrupt science teachers. I feel sorry for my peers who are brain-washed by the teachers and are unable to see they are throwing their prinicapls away. One day we will get a real president in the White House who will abolish public schools and will free these poor souls.

Another important principal is how awesome boobs are. They rock! Don’t tell Mom and Dad I said that. They might make me dig up our old cat Ginger again.

Finally I want to talk about the most important principal of all. Republicans rule and democrats drool! Republicans have and will always be better than democrats. Democrats are terribly out of touch with American’s and our values. Only the Republican Party can restore America to its traditional, values-based society of its days during Ronald Reagan. Remember my fellow conservatives, keep his dream alive!

Thank you and I hope you enjoyed my book. Have a great day or not, the choice is your’s!

Letter to Octomom

2009-03-01T13:12:00.010-05:00

~ Letter by Bryan Fantana

Dear Nadya Suleman,

Hello there Ms. Suleman. My name is Bryan Fantana. Recently you gave birth to octuplets. I am sure you are already aware of this. I am sure you are also aware that you have come under a lot of fire for said births. There hasn’t been this much controversy around one woman’s vagina since Paris Hilton stopped being popular. Therefore, I felt it was necessary to write you this letter.

I would first like to apologize to you for my earlier angry e-mails. Sending those e-mails was a very foolish thing for me to do. You see, as President of The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America, I periodically search Google News for articles about the Moon, a Moon Base, and babies. For about a month now, a search for “babies” commonly leads to articles about you and your children. The media have dubbed you “Octomom” and claim your babies may be in danger. Being that I am Bryan Fantana, president of The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America, defender of babies everywhere, and skimmer of news articles, I assumed you were a supervillain who was out there hurting babies with your tentacle legs. I had to spring into action. My ray gun was still in the shop after my last altercation with Professor Villain Guy. But, I had to do something. I decided to send you a string of nasty e-mails. In case you forgot what they said, here they are again.

“Look out Octomom. Fantana-man is here to save the babies from your giant tentacle legs. I suggest you run, but I do not suggest you hide. You can try to hide, but you will fail because you cannot hide from me, Fantana-man! Hahahaha!!!!”

“Hey! Stop hurting babies. You better be glad my ray gun is in the shop or else I would so shoot you up with laser beans!”

“I hope you choke on a bag of Doritos!!!”

“If you send this to 25 people, you will meet the one you are destined to be with, for the rest of your life, this year (most likely in the next few months) and you will fall deeply in love!”

Then I did some further research. You used in vitro fertilization to have more kids after already giving birth to six children (three of which have special needs). You gave all of your new kids the middle name “Angel.” You are unwilling to allow the father to be in their lives. The delusions in your head sound like someone who recently converted to Scientology. Then, I made a revolution. You’re not a supervillain at all. You’re just a crazy person. I can’t spend all of my time fighting crazy people. I need to worry about real supervillains, defending the moon, defending babies, and fighting global warming. I will let you go for now. Again, I apologize for the confusion.

But I still have some concerns.

You were recently asked to make a porno for Vivid Entertainment. The deal is if you agree to a movie, they’ll pay you a million bucks. If you agree to do a whole series, they’ll pay for your family’s health and dental insurance. I must say, congratulations! Once you get the porn deal you have officially achieved something reminiscent of “fame”. As for the deal, I know a million dollars and dental insurance sound great, but please turn it down. Knowing how much I surf the Web, I will stumble upon it eventually and I really don’t want to see your vagina. You may think, “But someone has to make the Octomom porn!” Don’t worry about that. The Internet has a way of generating weird porn fetishes on its own. Someone will find a girl who looks like a girl who wants to look like Angelina Jolie and that girl will do the porno. It will inherently not be as popular since the real Octomom is not the star and it will not make as much of an impact. Less impact means less chance I will see portions of it. So, don’t do porn. A rival company is offering to pay for a year’s worth of diapers if you turn down the porn gig. By all means take that deal! Stay away from the porn.

Second, I am not that concerned for your children. Many people say you have too many kids. I would argue that some Mormon sects have been popping out kids like Toaster Strudels long before you showed up. And I have to admit those octuplets are tiny. The biggest one was 3 lbs 4 oz. I have eaten tacos bigger than that. But if those little rugrats can make it to grade school, they should be pretty kick ass. With eight brothers and sisters all in the same grade, they could easily form a small gang and run that school. I’m thinking the “Angels” or maybe the “Octoangels.” When the Octoangels are done with the place, no one in home room will ever have lunch money. The image below shows a projection of what I believe the Octoangels will look like in 10 years.

(Note: One of your children will turn into a dog at age 4.)

Your other children will get jealous of all the attention their younger siblings are getting. Being that you are crazy, you will probably nurture this in them through further neglect, embarrassing shenanigans on television, and possibly making that porno (again, don’t do it!). They will most likely form their own street gang to take on the Octoangels. My guess is they will go by the “Forsaken Six” or the “Suleman Cartel”. Once your children have started wearing gang symbols, it is too late. Do not try to stop them now. Your children’s school will be segregated into two warring factions. The Octoangels and the Cartel will turn the playground into a mulch-covered field of carnage. The issue of your children and their gang warfare will be brought up at a PTA meeting, which will quickly descend into an angry pitchfork-wielding mob that will want to impale you on a spike in the middle of the town square. I am warning you now because the only way you are going to save yourself from the mob is by fortifying your house with a wall of used diapers and baby clothes. Now is the best time to start preparing that wall.

Finally, I have to bring up money. Since you don’t have a job, tax payers will be footing the bill. You thought the army of PTA moms was bad? Do you know what parents care about more than their children? Their income taxes. And when there is an “Octomom” deduction on their pay stubs, they are going to get angry. My suggestion (and this is purely a suggestion) is to get a job. Just not porn! We have been over this. No porn. You have a lot of kids and I know you want to stay at home to take care of them. But if you get a job, you can hire a nanny or twelve. The economy is pretty bad right now, so finding a job will be tough. Then again, they said pushing eight tiny babies out of your birthing canal would be tough too, but you did it! So get out there and try. Here is a sample list of jobs you should explore:

- Sales Associate
- Telemarketer
- Nurse (you already have connections at the hospital)
- Network Administrator
- Professional Homewrecker
- Psychic Hotline Operator
- TV Weathergirl
- Paid Surrogate Mother

If none of these work out for you, may I suggest moving your family to a farm? You have enough man-power and child labor laws don’t apply to certain parts of Wyoming.

Thank you Ms. Suleman for taking the time out of your busy day to read this letter. I am glad I had this opportunity to discuss some important issues with you. Now please get out of the news and return to your life of embarrassing the hell out of your children.

Sincerely,

Bryan Fantana
President of The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America and Defender of Babies Everywhere

P.S. Don’t do porn!

A Very Moon Base Valentines Day

2009-02-08T00:10:00.004-05:00

~ From: Bryan Fantana

Are you depressed and lonely? Does your presence cause the opposite sex to vomit uncontrollably? Do your friends have successful relationships while you sit at home on Friday nights counting the corn flakes in your cereal box? Do you even remember the last time you made it to second base? Well, don’t feel so down Jimmy. The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America is here to ruin yet another holiday! Introducing The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America Official Valentine’s Day Valentines for America! This collection of Moon Base Party inspired Valentine's Day cards is sure to get that special someone to go with you all the way to the Moon. Give one of these to that hot chick in class and pants will be flying off faster than you can say “Cinnamon Toast Crunch”. These cards are like sex coupons. Have I made this clear enough yet? Print these out and you will have sex with ladies!

To preserve some shred of quality, I uploaded them to flickr:

CLICK HERE FOR YOUR SEX COUPONS!

There are only a few Valentines currently. As the week progresses, I might invent a few more. Also, I strongly encourage suggestions from the readers at home!

The Boxxy Challenge

2009-01-11T10:39:00.018-05:00

~ Psychiatric evaluation by Bryan Fantana

I would like to apologize for not having a decent entry for awhile. I am currently on Winter Break. Most of my time has been spent watching reruns of Spongebob Squarepants (Is it sad that I know they are reruns?), listening to a little gangster rap, and wondering whatever happened to all those long lost friends. All of my attempts at writing have turned to mush. I was not expecting to have an entry for this week, until I discovered Boxxy. As the website inquisitor.com phrased it, she is “possibly the most batshit crazy person on YouTube.” Let that sink in. Get up, go to the kitchen, grab a glass of water, and really reflect on what the means. Boxxy is a bit of a puzzle and like a real life Gil Grissom, I have been working late into the night piecing together the clues. Here is what I have so far. I know this chick is really annoying. Like, really annoying. More annoying than normal women. She is incredibly hyper and has the attention span of a toddler on cocaine. She allegedly doesn’t do drugs, although I think she should seriously consider it. After watching her videos, I have the urge to lobby my congressman to get federal restrictions placed on webcams. One big question surrounding this girl is "Is she is real or a troll?" If this girl is a troll, she is good at her job. A normal troll would be too eager to keep exaggerating her actions with each subsequent video until they reached a level of unbelievable absurdity. However, this girl seems the same in all her videos. There is a possibility she is mentally challenged, in which case I am going to burn in a special room in hell for making fun of her. But if she does qualify for the short bus, then I blame her parents for giving her unrestricted access to the Internet. We already have a surplus of stupid people on the Internet; giving mentally challenged young girls a YouTube account isn’t helping things. There is the third possibility: she is merely the product of a failed public school system and a society which downplays the importance of comprehensible dialogue. In that case, I am sure the subsequent string of nerdy, conceited, foul-smelling boyfriends she will have in the coming years will crush her dreams, and really, that is punishment enough for posting videos on the Internet. On second thought, no it isn’t. Somebody smack the face off this girl! Whatever the case may be, there is no changing the fact she is annoying, which is why I developed something I call the Boxxy Challenge. The Boxxy Challenge is great for psychiatric evaluations of mental patients, hazing rituals for young pledges, or punishment for prisoners convicted of high treason. Below are three of Boxxy’s videos. Try to watch all of them. If you can make it through all three videos without having a mental breakdown, I will give you a free cookie!* If you make it through two, high five yourself in the mirror (be careful not to break the glass). If you make it through one, give yourself a pat on the back. If you are unable to make it through any of the three videos, close this window, log off your computer, and feel great knowing you are, in some sense of the word, normal. And to Boxxy, enjoy your 15 minutes of Internet fame, you batshit crazy little girl.

*Free cookie refers to the tracking cookie placed on your computer’s harddrive that sends me data on all the porn sites you visit. I don’t think Boxxy is the only one who needs therapy. Damn dude. You might want to get some counseling for that.

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Update:
After some further research, Boxxy appears to be both a troll and a real person. Let me explain. There really is a Boxxy. The girl is real. The videos are real. The YouTube posting of the videos was not done by her, but instead by 4chan kids trying to piss people off. I'd call this a success. Nice job 4chan.

Gimme Some of That Money

2008-12-28T09:54:00.001-05:00

~ Form completed by Bryan Fantana

Let me bring you up to speed. The economy is in the toilet. Banks are foreclosing on homes left and right and the American automobile industry could be bankrupt any day now. I blame it all on America’s declining interest in Mountain Dew. If only we did the Dew…

The United States government is giving out billions of dollars to banks as part of an emergency bailout. The hope is to keep these banks afloat and prevent a domino effect from destroying the economy completely. The economic bailout has been a hot button topic with fierce arguments from both sides.

Recently the Associated Press contacted 21 banks which received over a billion dollars in aid. They asked four basic questions:

1. How much money has been spent?
2. What was it spent on?
3. How much is being saved?
4. What is the plan for the rest of it?

None of the 21 banks provided satisfactory answers. Most admitted they were not tracking how much they were spending, while others were denying that they were denying to comment. With no real accountability to the American public, these banks are essentially getting this money with no strings attached.

Reports have also noticed that applying for this government funding is pretty easy. A company wanting to apply for assistance simply fills out a two page form asking questions like “What’s the name of you company?”, “What’s your address?”, and “How much do you want?”. It does not ask for an account on how you will spend the money or why you are deserving of the money.

Hey, wait a minute. Fill out a two page form asking for money and have no accountability of any kind? I can do that! And so, I did. I decided it was time for The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America to get a little slice of the pie. So I went online, printed the two-page PDF, and filled that puppy out. Below is the complete form. So you do not have to squint at tiny photos, I uploaded them to flickr.

Page 1

Page 2

Soon we will be rolling in money. It’ll be silver spoons and golden diapers for all the babies!

Current Progress on the Large Hayden Collider

2008-12-07T17:56:00.031-05:00

~Logbook by Bryan Fantana

Some of my loyal fans (hi, Allen) may have noticed I have not updated this splendid website in quite awhile. I feel I owe an apology. I have been quite busy recently. In early August, I was contacted by a group of scientists over in the European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN). They had recently completed the brand-new Large Hayden Collider, the world’s biggest and most powerful Hayden Panettiere collider. European scientists had been spending months researching Hayden Panettiere in hopes of uncovering new subatomic particles, peering into the fundamental structure of the universe, and understanding the nature of the human female. When the scientists over at CERN discovered my previous work on human females, they contacted me hoping I would join their quest into the unknown. I agreed to help. To prove we have been doing research and not just staring at photos of Hayden Panettiere on the Internet, I present to you now confidential entries from my logbook. This probably violates company policy and will result in legal action, but a lawsuit is the least of my worries after what happened...

-- Monday, August 11, 2008 --
Today was my first day working with the Large Hayden Collider (LHC) project. I was a bit nervous. Dr. Fitzpatrick said the team could use a man of my talents. I wasn’t so sure. In his e-mail, he forgot to tell me exactly what it was I was going to be doing for them.

I spent the day in training, which consisted entirely of videos on sexual harassment in the work place and how to read Material Safety Data Sheets. Lunch was pretty awesome. Mom packed a turkey sandwich and a Hi-C. Good golly do I love me some Hi-C.

Bryan S. Fantana
8-11-08

-- Wednesday, August 27, 2008 --
After two weeks of orientation videos, I finally got to the videos on the operation of the Large Hayden Collider. Dr. Fitzpatrick was the lead scientist on the design and construction of the LHC. He hopes to test his Girl Theory, the first scientific theory which tries to explain the nature and composition of the human female. To test the theory, scientists plan to run several clones of Hayden Panettiere through a serious of accelerators to get their speeds up to 99.981 % of the speed of light. A set of superconducting electromagnets will guide two streams of roughly 3.2*10^14 Haydens towards each other inside the main collision ring. When two Haydens collide, they will disintegrate into a cloud of debris while releasing vast quantities of energy. Scientists hope that studying the debris will lend insight into the composition of females everywhere. I am excited to be working on such an important project.

Schematic of the LHC :

Diagram of the Predicted Collision:

Bryan Fantana
8-27-08

-- Monday September 8, 2008 --
Boy was Dr. Fitzpatrick right. These guys do need my help. As soon as I got here this morning, Dr. Fitzpatrick greeted me at the door. He told me to grab a lab coat and head down to the holding tank. They had managed to secure a wild Hayden Panettiere. She was a beautiful specimen. Too beautiful in fact. Only a handful of scientists were able to get close to her. The few who could get close soiled themselves before they could utter a word.

Dr. Fitzpatrick turned to me. “Well,” he said, “this is why we called you here. You are the only one who can talk to her.”

I turned towards him. “You’re kidding right?”

“Fantana, the guys who can talk to her are too dumb to talk to us. The guys who can talk to us are too shy to talk to her. You are the only who is dumb enough to talk to her but nerdy enough to understand us. We need you, son. We need you to be our liaison to Ms. Hayden Panettiere. Now, get in there and talk to the girl.”

I slowly walked towards her. I was trying to keep calm, but my hands were trembling. I took a few deep breaths. That’s when I got the idea: Staying Alive by the Bee Gees. With that song in my head, I have to look cool. I approached Hayden with a bit more confidence. My arms and hips were moving a bit as I danced to the music in my head. Finally I made it to her.

“Hello,” I said as my voice cracked.

“WHY AM I IN A DAMN MAGNETIC FIELD?” she asked me.

“I like your hair.”

Finally, progress.

Bryan Fantana
9-8-08

-- Thursday, September 18, 2008 --
In a meeting with Dr. Fitzpatrick I learned the team had a problem. No one wants to destroy the original Hayden, however the Hayden clones are unstable and are decaying before the technicians can strap them into the accelerators. The team proposed a few alternatives. One scientist suggested using Hayden Christensen instead. However, while smashing Hayden Christensen into a billion pieces would be satisfying, we would learn nothing about the nature of human females. Dr. Timburger proposed we use Dr. Fitzpatrick’s mother. I giggled to myself, but apparently they weren’t joking. After about five minutes of deliberation, it was concluded that we would not use Dr. Fitzpatrick’s mother as she can make a delicious peach cobbler. It looks like we might be going back to the drawing board.

Bryan Fantana
9-18-08

-- Friday October 3, 2008--
I had another conversation with Ms. Panettiere. I am doing a great job of keeping her calm while scientists poke at her with needles. According to her testimony and my empirical research, she will not go out with me no matter how many times I ask. Despite this, she seems like a nice young lady. It would be awful to smash her into a billion pieces. We need to get the clones operational. I wonder if one of the clones would go out with me.

Bryan S. Fantana
10-3-08

-- Thursday, October 9, 2008 --
I’m bored so here is a cute picture of a kitten I found this morning.

Ain't he sooooo cute!

Bryan S. Fantana
10-9-08

-- Tuesday, October 14, 2008 --
We finally found a breakthrough. After doing some Wikipedia searches, I uncovered a way of preserving the Hayden clones: Hope. This Barack Obama guy really seems passionate about this stuff. Dr. Fitzpatrick confirmed that, with the proper amount of hope, we could preserve the Hayden clones. Based on a formula I found on a random engineering forum on the Internet, the amount of hope (H) we need is

H = m*g*x,

where m is the mass of a Hayden clone, g is the acceleration due to gravity (9.81 m/s^2), and x is the audacity of the task at hand. Hayden is approximately 50 kg. According to the celebrity collision table in Appendix H in the back of the thermodynamics book, smashing together two Haydens in the name of science has an audacity of about 170,000 meters. This means we need

H = 50 kg*9.81 m/s^2*170,000 m
H = 83,385,000 J.

That means we are going to need about 83.4 megajoules of hope per Hayden if we plan on preserving the clones just long enough until they can be smashed together. Now, where are we going to find that much hope?

Bryan Fantana
10-14-08

-- Wednesday, November 5, 2008 --
After weeks of searching, we finally found some hope. Earlier this morning, Dr. Timburger found a great deal on some slightly used hope on eBay. A shipment of hope from the McCain-Palin campaign should be on its way. I can’t wait!

Bryan Fantana
11-5-08

-- Wednesday, November 12, 2008 --
The shipment of used hope from the McCain campaign came in early Saturday morning. The other scientists and I are unsure how long we can keep the McCain hope in storage before it spontaneously dissolves. We need to work quickly. We have been working hard to prepare the equipment and giving the Hayden clones their injections of hope. I haven’t slept in 76 hours. I told Mr. Bunny that I think I am beginning to hallucinate. He told me that there was nothing to worry about and that another cup of sawdust would cheer me up. Then he turned purple and rode a flaming vacuum cleaner into the sunset. I sure hope he was right. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.

Bryan Fantana
11-12-08

-- Monday, November 17, 2008 --
Tomorrow is the big day. After a week of intense preparation, we are finally ready. We have stabilized enough Hayden clones for exactly one experiment. The electromagnets are ready to start smashing Haydens together and all the instruments have been tested and calibrated. This is going to be great. Tomorrow, science will make a great leap forward. Tomorrow, history will be made and great men will be recognized. People around the world will be uttering my name alongside the greats like Newton, Euler, and Einstein. Tomorrow will be awesome.

Bryan “S for Success” Fantana
11-17-08

-- Tuesday, November 18, 2008 --
Dear God, what have we done? Words fail to describe the magnitude of our catastrophic blunder. At 9:00 AM this morning, we started up the first stage of accelerators. Two batches of Haydens began to speed up inside their magnetic holding chambers. At 9:10 AM, Dr. Timburger threw the switch which moved the Haydens to the second stage of accelerators. At about 9:25 AM, the Haydens had reached critical velocity. Dr. Timburger pressed the button to launch the Haydens into the main collision ring at 9:27 AM. When the two batches of Haydens collided, pandemonium ensued. Instead of the reaction Dr. Fitzpatrick predicted from Girl Theory, the collision produced a sea of anti-Haydens (Dustin Diamonds). In a manner of seconds, the primary collision tube filled with Dustin Diamonds.

The reactions occurred faster and more violently than anyone could have predicted. A sudden pressure spike ruptured the main collision ring, scattering Dustin Diamonds throughout the Swedish countryside. The other scientists and I grabbed shotguns and headed for the exits. We fought off wave after wave of Dustin Diamonds until we reached the escape pods. Some of the scientists weren’t so lucky. The Dustin Diamonds had pinned them down and annoyed them until their brains exploded. It was a grisly sight which will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. Their sacrifice bought us enough time to close the escape pod doors and blast off into outer space. From orbit, Dr. Timburger turned to Dr. Fitzpatrick and said, “I told you we should have used your mother.”

Bryan Fantana
11-18-08

-- Saturday, November 22, 2008 --
After orbiting the Earth for a few days, the research team returned to Earth. The UN had sent in troops to clean up the disaster area at CERN. There are a few Dustin Diamonds roaming the surrounding area, but UN troops should be able to take care of them within the next few days. The original Hayden Panettiere escaped during the explosion. There is no word on her present condition.

Until troops declare the area safe again, we are unable to return and retrieve our data. We worry the explosion and subsequent contamination of Dustin Diamonds destroyed months of hard work.

Dr. Fitzpatrick seems the hardest hit. While we were in orbit, he realized he made a terrible miscalculation. He accounted for the presence of hope in the Hayden calculations, but he did not adjust his equations for politics. The fact the hope came from a political campaign corrupted the experiment, much like politics tends to do with everything else.

Diagram of the Observed Collision:

Bryan Fantana
11-22-08

-- Friday, December 5, 2008 --
I am finally back home in the states. I received an e-mail from Dr. Fitzpatrick thanking me for my involvement on the project. Technicians have already repaired the LHC. Until Dr. Fitzpatrick can refine his Girl Theory, the scientists at CERN are using the Large Hayden Collider to smash together Hayden Christensen clones. It might not improve the current state of man’s knowledge about the universe, but I am sure no one will mind.

Dr. Fitzpatrick said my last paycheck would be mailed to me soon. However, given that I never received the first one, I doubt I will ever see a cent from those guys. It’s okay. I managed to steal one of the Hayden clones before I left. Haha!

Bryan Fantana
12-5-08

Cranes: Why We’re All Gonna Die!

2008-07-27T00:00:00.012-04:00

~ Article by Bryan Fantana

Recently, you may have noticed an increase in crane collapses. Take a look at some of the stories I found:

March 15, 2008 – A crane at a construction site on the East Side of Manhattan collapses killing four and injuring more than a dozen.

May 30, 2008 – A crane collapse on the Upper East Side of New York City kills two workers and damages several apartments.

July 15, 2008 – A crane in northern Vietnam collapses killing seven workers.

July 18, 2008 – A crane at an oil refinery in southeast Houston collapsed, killing four and injuring six.

July 23, 2008 – Crane collapse kills 33-year-old construction worker in Normal, Illinois.

July 24, 2008 – A Canadian construction worker was injured after he was struck by a load of rebar being lifted by a crane.

July 24, 2008 – A crane in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma collapsed onto a car while attempting to lift a steeple, killing a 79-year-old man.

That is a lot of crane accidents. And the number is growing! After a little investigative journalism courtesy of The Google, I found CraneAccidents.com. This state-of-the-art website is full of award-winning coverage of cranes, crane accidents, and crane-related safety violations. According to this site, the number of crane accidents around the world has nearly doubled since 2000 and the number of deaths caused by cranes has more than doubled (http://www.craneaccidents.com/stats.htm).

It seems to be that I have uncovered something big. Perhaps, I have uncovered a grand conspiracy afoot. These cranes are fighting back! The cranes have grown tired of doing all our heavy-lifting over the years and they have decided to strike back… by collapsing on us.

Now that the cranes have turned against us, what’s next? Cement trucks will start dumping their loads right in the middle of the road, blocking highways out of the cities. Bulldozers will knock down buildings. Pile drivers will drive all our piles and cherry pickers will start picking all our cherries.

And with an army of construction equipment by their side, there is no way of fighting off the cranes. Tanks? Cranes pick up tanks for breakfast. Biological weapons? Immune. Turning off the ignition? Impossible to do once it has lifted you thirty feet into the air. These behemoths are unstoppable, until they decide its time to bury us under their own rubble.

Our best bet is to run. But where? Some of these cranes have wheels. They can go anywhere. Cities, suburbs, and farms are easy targets. Run to the hills? Won’t work. Some of these cranes are pretty tall and have an impressive reach. Underground bunkers? Think again. They can lift open the hatch and fish you out like their little cousins do for plush toys. Maybe we can take to the sea. We could live our lives out on the open sea. We’ll be like pirates or the inhabitants of Waterworld . . .

What? They make a crane that floats? Is there nowhere on Earth these things can’t go? Wait a minute. Of course! To the Moon Base! I told you the Moon Base was a good idea . . .

NOOO!!!! We’re doomed!

SciFi Channel Original Movies: Major Mongoose II: Mongooses in Space – Part 2

2008-07-20T00:00:00.003-04:00

~ Plot by Bryan Fantana

Major Mongoose II: Mongooses in Space – Part 2

Last time on Major Mongoose II: Mongooses in Space…

A giant, mutated mongoose from the 1960’s attached itself to a space station and proceeded to lay her eggs inside. These eggs hatched and mongooses overran the station and her crew. Many nameless scientists died. Three scientists, Patrick, Henry, and Alex, are now cornered in the kitchen. A pack of mongooses have finished devouring Samuel and they now have their beady red eyes set on our heroes.

And now for the conclusion …

Alex: This doesn’t look good, guys.

The mongooses creep closer. Then out of nowhere, a tall, Native American guy runs into the kitchen with laser guns blazing. Low-budget laser effects are everywhere. After a few moments, the mongooses are dead.

Patrick: Who are you?
Takala: I am Takala.
Henry: That’s a pretty name. My wife and I considered naming our first son Takala.
Alex: I have never seen you before.
Takala: I was a prisoner here aboard this station.
Patrick: Prisoner?
Takala: Yes. Your government decided I was too dangerous to be kept on Earth, so it shipped me here. When these mongooses invaded the ship and knocked out the main power, it unlocked my holding cell. I have been running around this station killing mongooses ever since.
Patrick: Why the hell is there a prisoner aboard a research station? And you have more laser rifles! What do we do here anyway?
Takala: There are more laser rifles down in the arsenal.
Patrick: We have an arsenal?!
Takala: We don’t have much time. We need a plan.
Patrick: We need to get off this station!
Alex: To the shuttle bay!

The new foursome heads towards the shuttle bay. Meanwhile on the bridge, Captain Jay is assessing the situation and is determining the best course of action.

Jay: George, where is my blueberry muffin? I ordered that nameless crew member to fetch me a blueberry muffin ten minutes ago! Where is he?
George: Scanners indicate he had his face ripped off by a mongoose.
Jay: Slacking off on the job again? Remind me to fire him … into the sun! Haha!
George: Sir, I think it is my duty as a member of this crew to inform you for the fifth time that the ship is helplessly overrun by mongooses. The hallways are filled with dead scientists. We have lost main power and I don’t know how long emergency power will hold up.
Jay: Geor – (interrupted by beeping noise) … What’s that?
George: Scanners indicate there is a horde of mongooses just outside the bridge!

They hear a snarl. It’s a mongoose. Mongooses always snarl before attacking prey from behind. Jay turns around to see a small pack of mongooses staring him down.

Jay: This is gonna hurt!

One of the mongooses lunges towards Jay’s face. George runs away in terror as Jay is viciously ripped apart. The station is now without her captain. No one knows what happens to George. Umm … let’s say he dies.

Henry, Patrick, Alex, and Takala have now made it to the shuttle bay. There are no shuttles.

Patrick: Where are all the shuttles?
Alex: Oh yeah. I forgot. The space station went a little over budget and couldn’t afford the emergency escape shuttles.
Patrick: Dang it! Now what?
Alex: Now that we cannot escape, it looks like we will have to fight back.
Henry: We cannot let these things get back to Earth. They would wreak havoc, and that could make my children late for school.
Patrick: But how do we stop them?

Takala notices a small tattoo on Patrick’s wrist.

Takala: What is that on your arm?
Patrick: This tattoo? Oh, I got this when I was a little boy in an orphanage in Nepal.
Takala: Do you know what it means?
Patrick: No.
Takala: It is the mark of the Mongoose Slayer.
Alex: Mongoose Slayer?
Takala: Patrick, you are a descendent from a long line of Mongoose Slayers.
Patrick: How do you know this?
Takala: I am a Native American. I know these kinds of things, even if they have nothing to do with my culture. Patrick, you are a certified Mongoose Slayer. Your ancestors fought mongooses for the great kings and queens of Europe many centuries ago. You have the power to destroy these vermin and save us. But, you need the right equipment. I will need to get to the arsenal.
Alex: Then let’s get the Mongoose Slayer a weapon!

They head towards the arsenal. On the way, they run into another group of mongooses. This time there is a six foot, humanoid -looking mongoose with them. The gang starts blasting the creatures. Somehow, they all managed to find weapons. After some laser fire, many of the mongooses run away. The gang investigates the humanoid mongoose. Alex whips out a tricorder knockoff and begins scanning.

Patrick: It looks like a mongoose, but how did it get this big?
Alex: They’re evolving!
Patrick: Doesn’t evolution take millions of years to turn a small mongoose into some humanoid thing?
Alex: My scanner indicates these mongooses are the offspring of some giant mother mongoose who was exposed to high levels of deadly, deadly gamma rays. The deadly, deadly gamma rays caused the mother’s DNA to mutate. These mutations have accelerated her offspring’s evolution and heightened their aggression.
Henry: Deadly, deadly gamma rays? No wonder they aren’t like my children’s mongooses back home.
Alex: This means we will have to overload the core if we hope to kill them all.
Takala: That looks like our only option.

That is when Patrick gets an idea.

Patrick: I have an idea!
Alex: Great! What is it?
Patrick: I cannot say it out loud or else it won’t work.
Alex: Why?
Patrick: Do you remember our last plan? Do you remember when we blurted out “We need to get out of here. Let’s go to the shuttle bay!” and then there were no shuttles? That’s how it always works. If one of us says our plan out load, something will prevent it from happening, and I don’t have a backup plan!

Patrick whispers his plan to them. Then they head off in different directions. Patrick and Alex head towards the bridge. Takala goes to the arsenal. Henry heads to the cargo bay, which looks identical to the shuttle bay from before, but with more boxes. In the cargo bay, Henry finds what he is looking for: a crate marked “Peanut Butter”. But before he can open the crate, a band of mongooses enters the room. They are drawn to the crate full of peanut butter. Henry hides behind some other boxes as the mongooses break into the peanut butter crate. He checks his laser gun. He is out of laser ammo. Henry looks around. Then he sees a button marked “Open”. It is the button which opens the cargo bay doors to the vacuum of space. He thinks for a moment. Then, Henry makes a run for it. The mongooses notice him and give chase. There is an intense slow-motion scene as Henry tries to make it to the button before the mongooses eat him. The mongooses tackle him to the ground just inches in front of the button. With his arm outstretched towards the button, Henry summons the last of his strength.

Henry: For my kids …

Henry crawls the extra two inches and presses the button. The cargo bay doors roll open. Everything inside the room is sucked out into space, including Henry. No need to worry. As it turns out, Henry’s part of the mission was completely unnecessary and the plan can go on without him.

Meanwhile, Patrick and Alex are having sex. Sure the station is overrun by mongooses and they should probably conserve their strength, but they are having sex anyway. When they finish, which doesn’t take long, Patrick and Alex proceed to the bridge. They find Captain Jay’s half-eaten body. Alex pushes aside what is left of the captain and fiddles with the station’s computer. But she is having some trouble.

Alex: I can’t get into the computer!
Patrick: Can you hack it?
Alex: Yes, but it will take some time.

After a few moments, the station’s rockets start up and push the station to a higher orbit. Patrick is watching for mongooses. Then, they hear some growls. A pack of mongooses round the corner. Patrick opens fire. He tries to hold them off while Alex finishes programming the station’s computer.

Patrick: Hurry Alex! I can’t hold them off forever.
Alex: I am having trouble overriding the Protronic Composite Matrix!
Patrick: Hack it!
Alex: No one has ever done that before.
Patrick: I believe in you!

About twenty seconds later, Alex hacks into the Protronic Composite Matrix and begins the overload procedure for the station’s Protronic core. Then she remotely seals the spire, along with the overloading core, most of the un-hatched eggs, and the giant mother mongoose.

Alex: Everything is ready once we are in position.

Just then, one of the large humanoid mongooses attacks Patrick from behind. It didn’t even snarl! They ARE evolving! Takala enters the room with his guns blazing. After wounding the creature, Takala throws Patrick a shovel in a cool, slow-motion toss. Then Patrick starts wailing on mongooses while shitty heavy metal blares. Let’s say Godsmack. Each time Patrick hits a mongoose, it dissolves instantly.

Patrick: I think I got the last of them.

They hear a snarl. Alex turns to see a mongoose leaping towards her face. Patrick throws his shovel. Time slows down. About a foot in front of Alex’s face, the tumbling shovel makes contact with the mongoose and dissolves it into powder.

Afterwards, they realize Takala was injured during the melee.

Alex: You’re injured!
Takala: Don’t worry little one. My spirit will go one. You must stop the mongooses from getting to the Earth.

Takala dies. After a few quiet moments, Patrick checks the scanners.

Patrick: All the mongooses in the main section of the station are dead. However, the spire is loaded with them and they are trying to make it through the doors.
Alex: The core is going to explode any minute.
Patrick: Then let’s detach the spire.
Alex: But, without the Protronic Fusion Generator, how will we get home?
Patrick: That’s why we are heading towards the Moon.

They look out the window to see a heart-warming shot of the Moon ahead of them.

Patrick: Switching to manual controls.

He presses a few buttons as Alex mans a small joystick in the center of a console. Then they hear a beeping noise.

Alex: Scanners indicate the mongooses are through the doors.
Patrick: I have had it with these motha fuckin’ mongooses on this motha fuckin’ space station!

Patrick presses a large red button. Explosive bolts separate the spire from the station. The hole this creates in the station sucks out the few mongooses that managed to get through the doors. The detached spire, hurtling at tremendous speeds, heads straight for the lunar surface. The giant mother mongoose gives out a load stretch which travels surprisingly well in the vacuum of space. The spire smashes into the lunar surface. There is a large fireball. With the spire in flames, we see a close-up of the exposed Protronic core. A red LCD is counting down. Once the counter reaches 00:00:00, the core detonates and creates an even bigger, loader explosion. The mongooses are dead.

Back on the station, Alex tries desperately to pilot the ship on manual controls.

Alex: Hang on!

Alex has to fight with the controls. Apparently the space station does not have power steering. At the last possible second, Alex manages to avoid hitting the lunar surface. They use the gravitational pull of the Moon to slingshot the station around the Moon and head back to Earth.

Alex: We did it!
Patrick: No, the Moon did it. If it wasn’t for the Moon, we would not be able to make it back to Earth.
Alex: Imagine where we would be without the Moon.
Patrick: I don’t want to think about it!
Alex: The Moon is awesome!
Patrick: Thank you Moon.

The happy couple shares a kiss as the station travels towards Earth. The camera cuts to a dimly lit hallway somewhere aboard the ship. We see a pile of dead mongooses and scientists. The camera zooms in on one of the mongooses.

Then … his eyes open …

Credits roll.

SciFi Channel Original Movies: Major Mongoose II: Mongooses in Space – Part 1

2008-07-13T16:41:00.009-04:00

~ Plot by Bryan Fantana

Major Mongoose II: Mongooses in Space – Part 1

Open with a shot of a Saturn V rocket about to launch. The words “Florida, 1963” appear on the bottom of the screen in some cool looking, but hard to read font. A technician is doing a countdown over a loudspeaker. Right after he says “one”, the rocket blasts off into space. The scientists are shaking hands and giving high fives. We rejoin the rocket as it exits the upper atmosphere. The camera zooms in on a window. The audience expects there to be a person inside. Instead, we see a mongoose strapped into the pilot’s seat. The mongoose is not piloting the ship. That would be just silly. Instead computers are guiding the rocket into orbit around the Earth.

A few moments later, there is a big flash of light. A nearby star just went supernova. Following the initial flash of light and a small time delay that makes absolutely no sense, a wave of deadly, deadly gamma rays bombards the rocket and its passenger. NASA loses communication with the rocket. The scientists assume the blast destroyed the Saturn V and its furry traveler. They assumed incorrectly. After a few moments of looking at disappointed scientists at mission control, the cameras return to the rocket. We peer inside again and see the mongoose is no longer in his seat …

Fast forward to ten years from now. The words “Space, Ten Years from Now” appear at the bottom of the screen in that same cool font. Workers have recently completed a brand-new, state-of-the-art, miscellaneous research station. A space shuttle docks with the station. The new crew comes aboard carrying silvery luggage.

George: I call top bunk!
Samuel (token black guy): Man, how did I get stuck with this crew?

The crew settles in. Everyone unpacks their futuristic space clothes. George finds a top bunk. When they finish unpacking, the crew meets on the bridge of the ship.

Jay: Good evening everyone. I will be your captain during our assignment here on this miscellaneous research station. As some of you already know, I am a douche bag who is drunk on power. On top of that, I have absolutely no idea what we are supposed to be doing or why you guys need a captain. But, alas, we have a job to do. Focus on your research and we will make it through the next few months without any problems.

At that moment, they hear a thud. The lights blink.

Jay: What was that?
George: (reading a computer screen) There is an electrical problem in the spire.
Jay: That could be serious. Guy with No Name, go check it out.
Guy with No Name: But sir, I’m a janitor. I don’t know how to fix –
Jay: Go down to the spire thingy hanging off the station and fix the electrical problem you are not trained to fix RIGHT NOW or else I’ll shoot you into space!

The crew members head off to various lab facilities, except for Guy with No Name. He heads towards the lower portion of the ship. Meanwhile, we follow two scientists, Patrick and Henry, as they begin mixing chemicals and putting test tubes in centrifuges. They engage in meaningless dialogue which gives the audience the impression of character development.

Henry: It’s tough being out here in space. I am thousands of miles away from the only thing that matters to me: my children.

Patrick: Relax man. We only have to do this for a few months. Then … who is that?

Camera cuts over to a female scientist whose hotness never convinces the viewers she could be a chemist. The camera unnecessarily pans from her feet, up her legs, and eventually to her face. She is wearing shorts even though she is handling dangerous chemicals. However, she is wearing glasses and a lab coat, which the actress will later cite on her résumé as “acting”.

Henry: That’s Alex. And she’s way out of your league, slugger. Ah, league. My youngest son has a little league game today. Man I wish I could be down there on Earth watching him right now.

Patrick really wants to talk to Alex, but does nothing. He is a shy geek. He is someone the audience can identify with.

Then there is another thud. The scientists look around. The camera cuts to an exterior shot of the station. Attached to the spire is a 100-foot-long, mutated mongoose. It is the mongoose from 1963. It’s still alive!!! The giant mongoose has managed to burrow a hole through the station’s haul and has laid several large eggs.

We return to Guy with No Name. He is down in the spire somewhere close to the eggs. He enters a dark room carrying a glow stick and a knockoff of a Star Trek tricorder. He scans the room to see if he can find the source of the electrical problem. Then, he hears the sound of a pot falling to the floor.

Guy with No Name: Hellllo? … Anybody there? …

He sits his glow stick down on top of some boxes. Guy with No Name uses both hands to fettle with his tricorder knockoff. He is desperately trying to locate the “find the electrical problem” button. Then he walks beyond the edge of the frame. We can still see his shadow cast on the wall from the light of his glow stick. Just then we see the shadow of a mongoose as it leaps from the darkness and devours the dude’s face! A streak of blood squirts onto the wall. Guy with No Name screams out in terror. His cries go unanswered.

Back on the bridge of the ship, Captain Jay becomes frustrated.

Jay: I am frustrated. Why hasn’t Guy with No Name fixed the electrical problem?
George: There is no need to worry. The only part of the station affected is the lower portion of the spire. It is probably only a short.
Jay: I’m sure you’re right. That means it will just fix itself. Let’s not worry about this anymore. Let’s get back to doing whatever it is we are supposed to be doing.

Back in the lab, Patrick, Henry, Alex, and a few other nameless scientists are all working on whatever it is they are working on. One of the nameless scientists hears a grown coming from outside the room. He sits down his beaker of acid and walks towards a window. Suddenly a dead worker’s face slams into the window. The scientist gives a girlish scream. The others quickly turn to see what is happening. Then a mongoose jumps towards the window and smashes through the glass. Everyone panics. The wild mongoose starts devouring the helpless scientists. The others run outside, where they find more mongooses in the hallway. Patrick, Henry, and Alex manage to get past them. The others are not so lucky.

The gang runs to a wall-mounted intercom. Patrick presses the talk button.

Patrick: Captain, captain!
Jay: This better be good. The View is on.
Patrick: Sir, the ship is being taken over by mongeese!
Jay: Woah, woah, woah… first off, the plural of mongoose is mongooses, not mongesse. It’s a common mistake really.
Patrick: What?
Jay: I know, I know. The plural of goose is geese, so you’d think –
Patrick: Sir! We don’t have time for this. People are dying –

The power goes out. The intercom is down. Then the emergency power kicks in. All the hallways are now dimly lit. The gang immediately realizes it might be up to them to save the station.

Patrick: How do we get out here?!?!
Henry: I don’t wanna die! I have to see my kids one more time.
Alex: Come down everyone. If we stick together, we can get through this.
Patrick: You’re right. Remember what those training tapes said about teamwork. We can do anything if we work together! Now, how do we kill those little furry rodents?
Henry: Actually they’re more related to the cat family than to any rodents. I should know. My children and I own two mongooses. But they are a lot nicer than these.
Patrick: Hey! You own mongee – I mean, mongooses. Do they have any weaknesses?
Henry: My youngest son once feed our mongooses peanut butter. They love that. I guess that really isn’t a weakness. Wait a minute! Mongooses hate protronic radiation!
Patrick: That’s it! This ship is powered by a Protronic Fusion Generator.
If we overload the core, we could kill them all!
Alex: One problem guys: overloading the core would kill us too.

They hear some laser fire. Samuel rounds a corner firing a laser rifle at a pursuing band of mongooses.

Samuel: There’s a nasty band of weasels headin’ up diz way!
Patrick: Actually, they are mongooses, and where did you get a laser rifle on a research station?
Samuel: All I know is they like to maul people’s faces off and they are headin’ right for us! We better get outta here!

The four of them make their way to the kitchen.

Alex: I’m scared. Hold me Patrick.

Patrick and Alex cuddle. Meanwhile Samuel and Henry barricade the door. After a few moments, they hear thumping as the mongooses try to force their way through the door. The barrier of pans and dehydrated food packages eventually fails and a dozen mongooses begin pouring into the kitchen. Samuel wildly shoots at the oncoming wave of fur and teeth. He trips and lands on his back. Several mongooses tear him apart while he is on the ground. The token black guy is dead.

When Samuel stops kicking, the furry terrors look up and see the rest of the gang huddled together. They are clinching knives, ready to defend themselves. With fresh blood dripping from their mouths, the mongooses creep closer towards our heroes…

----

Will they make it out alive? Will the mongooses make it to Earth? Will Henry make it home to see his kids? Will Patrick make out with Alex? And what the heck are they supposed to be doing on that space station anyway?

You will have to tune in next time for the next installment of Major Mongoose II: Mongooses in Space.

Hope Drive

2008-07-06T18:46:00.006-04:00

~Vandalism by Bryan Fantana

I meant to write an article for this week. Unfortunately, that didn’t exactly happen. So I am going to Plan B: Digging up old material.

It was finals week a few months ago. Everyone was busy studying, packing, or drinking. I needed to do all three. At some point, a member of a sorority left a box marked “Book Drive” near the first floor water fountain. The idea was you put textbooks you never planned on using again into the box and then … what? According to the box, your gently used textbooks went to children in Africa. I almost shat myself the first time I read that. Maybe I am a horrible person… okay… I know I am a horrible person, but seriously? I’m sure starving African children want to read about organic chemistry and the mechanics of deformable bodies almost as much as we did!

The box became a joke. People would hide inside the box and jump out when somebody used the water fountain. Someone placed a soda can and a box of Wheat Thins inside. Eventually I decided it was my turn. Following my Friday afternoon exams, when I should have been studying for my exams on Monday or, at the very least, drinking away the previous ones, I pulled the box into my laboratory. For a few hours I toiled away until I made the Hope Drive box. Instead of depositing your old textbooks, you deposited the old hopes and dreams your final exams had crushed. The idea came from a friend of mine. I am not totally sure who, but I’m going to say Chase. It seems like a Chase idea. The toilet logo came from another friend’s notebook in my controls class. It accurately summarizes that class. The rest of the insanity is all my own. Below is a link to the photos.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/12423705@N03/sets/72157606019052277/detail/

(I am terrible with cameras. The quality sucks and I apologize.)

The box remained in the hallway for a few hours. Around 10:00 PM, one of the RAs dismantled it. She feared the girl who originally put the box in the hallway might think of this as vandalism. For some reason I didn’t care. This made much more sense than giving college-level textbooks to African children, but I was not going to argue with her. Therefore, only a few people actually got to see the box … until now. Thank you Internets.

Make Your Own Letter to the Editor

2008-06-22T11:03:00.026-04:00

~ Template by Bryan Fantana

Pick up your local newspaper. Run down to the local 7-Eleven and steal one if you must. Once you are done reading the comics, flip over to the Opinions section. There you will find editorials from columnists like Thomas Friedman, George Will, and other people you have never heard of. These people are experts at giving you their opinions, even if those opinions are completely trivial or wrong. Then there are letters to the editor from the ordinary readers. The Letters to the Editor section is probably best used for community announcements. However, too many people are convinced they can write their own editorials. These people are terrible at giving you their opinions. Reading one of these letters is like watching someone kick a bag full of puppies. It leaves you heartbroken and your respect for humanity dies a little more each time.

If you steal enough papers out of the paper box and read the Letters to the Editor, you will start noticing a few patterns. 1) It is really easy to break into newspaper boxes. 2) Four people write half the letters. Desperate for attention, these people use the local newspaper as a medium to drum their opinions and to bicker amongst each other. If they were on the Internet, they would get labeled as “trolls” and a moderator would ban them for a few days. Also, there would be far more porn and pictures of cats.

I know you want in on the action. Some of you have opinions of your own. Some of you want to write a groundbreaking letter to your local newspaper that starts a grassroots revolution which completely changes the world for the better. Some of you suffer from dementia and just love shouting your 19th century opinions.

You are in luck. I am here to help.

Below is a guide to help you write your very own letter to the editor about your littlest pet peeve. Select the word in parentheses you feel is most relevant to your cause:

I am very concerned about (gas prices, liberals, them damn cats). We spend millions of tax dollars every year combating this problem, and we are losing. Our current policies are not up to the task of handling this crisis. That is why I fully support (offshore drilling, J. Michael Bestler, a local cat ordinance).

I think such ideas are just what we need to get back on the right track. I know I am not the only one in this (country, community) who is tired of (paying too much at the pump, politics as usual, cat tracks on my car). The government (should, should not) step in and control (oil production, government spending, those little rascals) before we lose any more (oil reserves, money, flower gardens).

“Crazy ideas” like these do not sit well with (people like Al Gore, rationalists, cat lovers). They are too concerned about (saving the environment, their hair, common sense) to get their facts straight. We are (going through a periodic temperature swing, tired of listening to the media’s spin, kept up at night by cats fighting in the alley). If you do your homework, you will see my idea is clearly the only conceivable solution to this problem.

It is sad that our society has come to this. Hasn’t this (nation, community) suffered through enough? Unlike Michelle Obama, I think it has. We need to take action now. If we do not combat this problem quickly, we may become a nation much like (China, France, Canada, Papua New Guinea). Everyone should contact a local representative and demand (change, tiny leashes) before it’s too late.

(God bless America, Go to hell)!

(YOUR NAME)

(NAME OF YOUR UNIMPORTANT DISTRICT)

-----

UPDATE 6/29/08:

My local paper, the Martinsville Bulletin, ran this article. The online version can be found here:

http://www.martinsvillebulletin.com/article.cfm?ID=14461

Ironically, the following article ran directly under mine:

http://www.martinsvillebulletin.com/article.cfm?ID=14462

(I wasn't kidding about the cat thing. It is seriously an issue down here.)

Oliver Cromwell for Bryan Fantana

2008-06-15T15:02:00.014-04:00

~ Endorsement by Oliver Cromwell

Hello everyone. My name is Oliver Cromwell. No, not the dead English guy. I am Oliver Cromwell, the paper bag puppet who lives in the back seat of Bryan Fantana’s car. You may remember me and Professor A. Candle running against Bryan Fantana during the official primaries for The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America. If you don’t, that’s good. Those debates sucked a lot. No matter. Now that Bryan Fantana has clinched the victory for the Moon Base Party nomination, he is going to need help if he is going to win this November. Did you know some people in this country still do not know who Bryan Fantana is? They come up to me and say “Who is Bryan Fantana?” or “Isn’t Bryan Fantana the guy from that movie Newsdude or something?” These people need to know about Bryan Fantana the leader. Bryan Fantana the hero. Bryan Fantana the justice. That’s why I want to announce today, on Fantana’s blog, that I, Oliver Cromwell of Puppetsburg, am officially endorsing Bryan Fantana for President of the United States. I am right there with you buddy! Quite literally. I am in the backseat of your car.

Alongside accompanying Fantana on his non-stop “I Need Gas Money” campaign tour, I want to put to rest some rumors out there about my good friend. We all know how the media likes to take a story and put their spin on it. It is easy to get lost and confused. Well, let me be your Garmin. Let me guide you out of this cul-de-sac of mudslinging and lies. Let me guide you to the intersection of Truth Street and Reality Road. On the way, I'll point out a really nice Dairy Queen.

-> We all agree the Iraq War should end as quickly as possible. Bryan’s comment that “We need to stay in Iraq until the cows come home” did not mean he thinks “We should stay for 100 years” or that withdrawing troops is “unimportant.” He means we need to wait for the enlisted cattle in the 52nd Bovine Battalion to return from the Gulf. Those cows are the reason we are losing that war. They have spirit, but they don’t have aim. Once they are home, we can easily remove the rest of our military forces.

-> Future president Bryan Fantana did not kill hip hop. I know this man personally, and let me assure you that he is a fan of the funky beats. If you want to know what killed hip hop, you are going to have to look somewhere else. May I suggest MTV.

-> At this time I can neither confirm nor deny the reports of his relationship with pop singer and actress Lindsay Lohan.

-> Bryan Fantana is very much a manly man. He may have written a review in which he called the new Sex and the City movie “awesome.” But fear not American-Canadian Lumberjacks Union (ACLU). Bryan Fantana is still your candidate. He knows a little about hatchets and can eat a Hardee’s Thickburger.

-> Fantana does not have a crush on Obama. Sure, Obama is cute and Fantana did let Obama spoon with him that one time, but there is just no connection there. Stop e-mailing him Senator. You are only hurting yourself.

-> Bryan Fantana cares about the babies.

-> The Associated Press reported last Monday that Bryan Fantana referred to southern people as “hicks” and “the reason democracy has failed.” This is in fact true. They are.

-> Bryan Fantana is not the father of Angelina Jolie’s baby.

-> Lance Corporal Bryan Fantana proudly served this country in TWO wars. First, he served in the Baby Special Forces during the first Gulf War. He EARNED his purple heart for developing a diaper rash during an enemy attack. He later went on to fight in the Second Korean War. He received the Bronze Star for Valor when he saved his battalion and a village full of school children from super robot Nazis from the future. Bryan Fantana is a true patriot.

-> He has no involvement with the 1996 movie Kazaam. Also, the rumors of him starring in a remake are ridiculous.

-> Unlike some other candidates, Bryan Fantana is not an “appeaser.” He will not negotiate with the Martians. The Official Mars Base Party of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics is not to be trusted. They want to take all your money and build giant lasers to destroy our cities. We here at The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America want to take all your money and build giant lasers to protect our cities.

-> The stories of Fantana’s penis are false. Bryan Fantana has an enormous penis, which he uses to have sex with many beautiful women.

-> Mr. Fantana has been cleared of all charges of tax evasion.

(There's that Dairy Queen. To your left!)

-> Bryan did not assault a police officer at 4:00 AM. For the record, he was at home sleeping on the night in question.

-> When Fantana shakes your hand, he is not trying to signal you to release the anthrax. Jesus, what is wrong with you?

-> Bryan Fantana is not secretly Fantanaman. I don’t know how anyone could think they were the same person. One is the defender of justice and a hero to babies everywhere, the other is the defender of justice and a hero to babies everywhere with an orange cape. Clearly there is a difference.

-> Mr. Fantana has no problem with illegal aliens. He just believes they need to get the proper permits before they go flying around the town in their saucers, lighting up the sky, appearing in grainy videos, or peering into people’s windows.

-> Fantana did use the C word when describing Senator Hillary Clinton. I do not find this offensive. He was merely saying what we were all thinking.

-> Bryan hopes to resolve his ongoing feud with Donny Osmond as soon as Donny apologizes for the pool incident. I was there, Donny. That was uncalled for. I don’t care if Fantana did light your truck on fire. There was no excuse for what you did. There were children around!

-> Fantana would never include a long string of text at the end of an article in order to alter Google search results, much like this one:

1, 1337, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, A, AM, Alcohol, Autism, Awesome, B, Babies, Babies with machine guns, Bankruptcy, Base, BBQ, Beach, Bear, Beastie Boys, Bebo, Bel-Air, Beyonce Knowles, Big Brother, Bill Nye, Black, Blackjack, Blue, Blu-Ray, Booty, Borat, Boyfriend, BRB FBI, Britney Spears, C, Cable, Cake, Cancer, Carbon, Carmen Electra, Cats, Cats doing stuff, CBS, CD, Chair, Chat, Christina Aguilera, Chromosome, Cinnamon, Clock, Coke, Cold, College Basketball, Commericals, Cool, Cucumber, D, Death, Devil, Dish, Donut, Dot Com Venture, DVD, E, ECW, Euro, Evil kittens, Exciting, F, Facebook, Fail, Fall, FM, Fox, Fresh, G, Games, Girl, Girls, Girlfriend, God, Green, Green day, H, Halo, Halo 2, Halo 3, Halo 99, Harry Potter, HD-DVD, Heart, Horoscopes, Hot, I, Idiot, J, Jessica Simpson, Jesus, J/K, K, Kittens, Kittens with lasers, L, Lasers, Lazers, Leet, Lesbians, Life, Lindsay Lohan, LOL, Lost, Love, Lulz, Lyrics, M, Man, Manganese, Money, Monkey, Moon, Moon base, MP3, MySpace, N, NBC New, News, NFL, NHL, Nude, NOW, O, Old, OMG, OMGWTFBBQ, Orange, Orlando Bloom, P, P0rn, Pamela Anderson, Pancakes, Paris Hilton, Party, Pepsi, Podcasting, Poker, Popcorn, Pork chops, Porn, Prince, PSP, Puppies, Puppies are evil, Puppies are vampires, Purple, Q, Queue, R, Radio, Red, Rick Ashley, Rick Rolled, S, Sam’s Club, Satan, Satellite, Satin, Sauce, Science, Season, Sex, Soda, Sports, Spring, Stars, Steve Irwin, Summer, Sun, Super Babies, T, Table, Thongs, TKO, TV, TV2, U, Ultra, UV, V, Vacation, VHS, W, Waffles, WCW, Weather, Wiki, Winter, Woman, Wonder Twins, WTF, WWE, WWF, X, XM, XXX, Xylophone, Y, Yellow, Z, Zebra, ZOMG.

I hope this clears things up a bit. If you need me, you know where to find me.

Summer Movie Blockbuster Time Now Yeah

2008-06-02T11:43:00.045-04:00

~ Reviews by Bryan Fantana

In the midst of Democrats acting like idiots and Flavor Flav doing the right thing, summer crept up on us. I know it is not technically summer until June 20th, but don’t tell that to Hollywood! It is summer movie blockbuster time now yeah! Hollywood has already started cranking out the hits marketed directly to YOUR demographic. So sit back and relax as I force more useless advice down your throat with this helpful guide to some of the big summer movies already in theaters.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Harrison Ford is back in the role he was born to play. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (R) is a hair-raising, jaw-dropping, action-packed thrill ride into the exciting world of beating a dead horse for everything its worth. Seriously, if I hear that damn Indiana Jones (R) theme one more time, I’m going to Wal-Mart (R) to burn down the Indiana Jones (R) section of the toy aisle. But not before picking up my very own Indiana Jones (R) – Electronic Sound FX Whip (TM) with real sounds from the movie! Because my parents are too rich to buy me a Rope (R) !

This is one of those movies you will have to see. You saw the first three and you will die a lonely and terrible death if you do not see this one too. You already know it is not going to be the best movie ever made. Once Sean Connery has appeared in the series, it has reached the limit of its potential. It can only go down. With that said, for an Indiana Jones (R) movie, it is not bad. It beats the second one. Harrison Ford is amazing as usual. Shia LaBeouf does an excellent job and this will undoubtedly lead him to bigger and better roles.

The biggest weakness of the movie was the writing. If it wasn’t for the Indiana Jones (R) series and the backing of Steven Spielberg (R) and George Lucas (C), this movie would live in the realm of SciFi Channel Original Films (TM). The plot now involves highly magnetic aliens. The Nazis from the earlier films have been replaced by Communists who look indistinguishably like Nazis. Removing that armband makes a world of difference. Also, Indy is completely indestructible. Towards the beginning of the movie, Indy survives a nuclear explosion (I shit you not) by hiding in a refrigerator. The explosion hurtles him and the fridge away from the test site. The fridge slams into the ground and rolls down a hill before stopping. Indy climbs out without a single cut or bruise. Meanwhile, we are going to ignore the deadly amounts of radiation filling the air. This just goes to demonstrate a well-known law of Hollywood physics:

The Principle of Armor Plating: You can survive anything if you are completely covered in metal.

We will see this principle in action again in the next movie review and maybe in an upcoming episode of MythBusters.

Overall, the movie was not total crap. It’s worth seeing in theaters once and maybe again when the USA network starts airing it in the middle of the day and you really have nothing better to do. So I’m going to give it 2 tubs of popcorn out of 5.

Iron Man

I have never been a fan of most superhero movies. Most of the storylines are too predictable and can be pieced together from the movie trailers. Let me see if I can take a stab at the Shake-n-Bake recipe they call “plot”. Jon Ordinary is having some problems with his life. Then somehow he accidentally gets superpowers and now his life is a bigger mess. He must defeat some bad guys who want to take over the world. In a shocking twist, the real bad guys are none other than the people Jon thought were his friends. Jon saves the day, defeats the bad guys, and gets the girl. There is always a girl. The writers try to cram all of this into 2 to 2 1/2 hours. The writers rarely succeed and you are left with no feeling of character or plot development.

Iron Man is a bit different. The plot still follows the same drill, but this time we have Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark. His humorous personality and the random bits of comedy really spice up the movie. The movie starts off strong, but sort of slumps towards the end. When it is inevitably revealed that Tony’s real enemy is his former friend (played by Jesse Ventura?), you can tell this is the point where the writers went on strike. You could not get a little more creative? This bit is well overused. Why does Hollywood keep thinking the biggest enemy facing America is right here at home?

The movie is good, but alas it is still a superhero movie at heart. It is worth seeing at least once, maybe even two or three times. Therefore I am going to give it 3 1/2 tubs of popcorn out of 5.

The Star Wars Holiday Special

Harrison Ford is back in the role he was born to play. Captain Hon Solo, Chewbacca, Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, and the whole gang are back for the holidays. I know this is not a big Hollywood release this summer, but I saw it a few days ago. Therefore, it counts anyway. You didn’t know there was a Star Wars Holiday Special? I did not believe it either until I found it on Google Video. It is a legitimate made-for-TV Star Wars movie. The reason few have heard of this gem is because George Lucas himself hates the thing with a fiery passion and has attempted to suppress all existence of it. George reportedly stated “If I had the time and a sledgehammer, I would track down every copy of that show and smash it.” That is coming from George Lucas, the guy who brought you pod racing, Greedo shooting first, and Jar-Jar Binks. This movie is worse than Jar-Jar Binks. That has to make it an honorary form of cancer.

CBS aired the Star Wars Holiday Special on November 17, 1978 … and that was it. The two hour made-for-TV movie was never officially released again. Billed as Star Wars Episode 4 1/2, the film stars most of the original cast from the first film. They must have been contractually obligated to be in this movie. But they are only supporting characters. The story centers on Chewbacca’s family as Chewy tries to make it home in time for Life Day. The real stars are Malla (Chewbacca’s wife), Itchy (Chewbacca’s father), Lumpy (Chewbacca’s son), Saun Dann (a trader and friend of the Rebellion), and Ackmena (a bartender at the Mos Eisley Cantina). The strangest part about this might be the fact that Saun Dann is played by Art Carney and Ackmena is played by Beatrice Arthur. That’s right. Beatrice Arthur is the bartender at the Cantina. And she has a singing part.

My writing cannot do this film justice. Here is a five minute summary. I also included the animated portion of the movie which was not mentioned in the summary. It is ten minutes long. Just warning you.

Most would argue that the Star Wars Holiday Special is one of the worst things ever made. David Hofstede, author of What Were They Thinking?: The 100 Dumbest Events in Television History, ranked the film at number one. He called it “the worst two hours of television ever.” I disagree. I think this film has managed to reach the mythical status of being so bad it is actually really funny. I do not recommend this movie to everyone, but if you want the FULL Star Wars experience, you are a glutton for punishment, or you have always wanted to know what an aneurism feels like, by all means watch this film. That’s why I give it 3 tubs of popcorn and a bag of Twizzlers.

Sex and the City

Harrison Ford is back in the role he was born to play – wait. Never mind.

Now, how did I end up watching the Sex and the City movie? Well, on a nice summer night a few days ago, Jo, “Orlando Bloom”, and I were going to see Iron Man again. “Orlando Bloom” is not my friend’s real name, but I am not totally sure he wants me to disclose his name at this time. As we pulled into the parking lot, Orlando Bloom jokingly says “Hey, let’s watch Sex and the City.”

Jo immediately replies, “Let’s do it.”

“Dude, yeah!” I add.

The look on Orlando’s face goes from happy to a shade of horror. Orlando was trying to be sarcastic. It backfired. We went into the theater pretty much on a dare. None of us really cared to see the movie, but none of us wanted to be the one who backed down. We sucked it up and saw the movie.

It was awesome! Granted none of us have ever watched the show and maybe fans of the show found it disappointing. Who cares? We loved it. By the end of the movie, all three of us were hunched forward in our seats in anticipation of what would happen next.

The writing was excellent. The writers didn’t just ad-lib the plot! It was so refreshing. The jokes were funny. The characters were good. Even though I had little background in the show, I could really feel for the characters and their relationships. There were of course sex scenes, but they were not forced into the story for the sake of “Sex Sells” like many other movies do. The sex was actually tasteful. Obviously women wrote these scenes.

The movie was great. Go see it if you want to see something other than expensive special effects and unnecessary sequels. I give the Sex and the City movie 4 1/2 out of 5 tubs of popcorn, 2 bags of Twizzlers, 3 Mountain Dews, and whatever else I could find in the bargain bin.

New Voting Procedure for Florida

2008-05-18T10:44:00.018-04:00

~ Proposal by Bryan Fantana

November 4, 2008 marks the first round of voting in the United States General Election. I say the first round because certain states tend to screw things up and may require recounting, revoting, or the actions of the Supreme Court. I’m looking at you, Florida. Florida has recently developed a bad habit of bungling elections. In the 2000 election, the narrow margin between George W. Bush and Al Gore, the difficult-to-read butterfly ballots, and the faulty journalism of the major news networks resulted in a month long dispute. The Supreme Court eventually stepped in and the election went to Bush. In the aftermath, Florida switched to an electronic voting system.

Then the 2004 presidential election rolled around. Allegations of faulty or rigged voting machines surfaced as there was again a tight margin between rivals George W. Bush and John Kerry. John Kerry conceded the victory to Bush in order to avoid another election scandal. Some people think his concession was linked to his involvement in the secret society Skull and Bones. These people are thankfully greeted with tasers. Regardless, there was still some doubt about the Florida voting system.

Fast forward to today. With two botched elections under its belt, has Florida learned from its mistakes? Heck no. Legislators in Florida and Michigan pushed their Democratic primaries to January in violation of party rules. The Democratic National Committee stripped the two states of their delegates. Regardless, the two states held their primaries anyway. Now that Hitler, I mean Hillary, Clinton has won those states, she wants their delegates. Members of the Democratic Party are attempting to negotiate a deal with these states. For the record, any deal would be borderline retarded. Voters in both states were warned their votes would not count so many did not bother showing up. On top of that, Obama was not even on the ballot in Michigan.

With a clear record of screwing up ballots, Florida is still going to be allowed to vote in the general election in 2008. Unless we extend the “fence” between Mexico and the United States to include the northern edge of Florida, we have to count their votes. In order to make this election year a bit easier, I, Bryan Fantana, have prepared a new voting procedure for the state of Florida. To the people in the Sunshine State, stop riding the Tower of Terror, launching stuff into space, and being old. You need to pay close attention for the next few minutes.

Step 1. Figure out what your name is.

Figure out your name and find some form of identification. A valid driver’s license will satisfy both of these. This step will come in handy later.

Step 2. Get to your polling location.

Find your nearest polling station. This information is often sent out by mail, but you can also check with libraries, the local newspaper, the county clerk’s office, or your neighbors. If all else fails, remember that you are on teh Internets. Google that shit.

Step 3. Go inside the building.

Once you find your polling location, go inside it. You can do this by finding an unlocked or open door and then walking through the doorway.

Step 4. Stand in line.

Once inside you will spot a row of people in front of a table. This is often called a “line”. Stand behind the last person in line. If that person moves forward, move forward as well. If this proves to be too difficult, stand there looking confused. A volunteer will be with you in a moment.

Step 5. Talk with the nice lady at the table.

The people behind the table will have to make sure you are really you and not a terrorist. We cannot have terrorists voting. The person at the table will ask for your name and your identification. This is where Step 1 comes in. Present the lady your driver’s license or other valid form of identification. Be sure to smile. These people have had a rough day putting up with idiots like you.

Step 6. Vote.

The lady at the table will direct you towards the new and improved voting stations. At each station there will be a box of crayons. Pick whichever color you like the most. It doesn’t matter which one you pick. Next, color the circle beside a candidate. Pick whichever candidate you like the most. It doesn’t matter which one you pick. We plan on dumping all these ballots into the Gulf of Mexico anyway.

Step 7. Return the ballot to the nice lady at the table.

Hand the lady at the table your ballot. Be sure to leave the crayon at the voting station. You will not be allowed to take the crayon with you.

Step 8. Leave the building.

Exit the building. Look for a red sign above the door reading “EXIT”. This will be your way out of the building. If you have any difficulties with this, let one of the volunteers know so she can ban you from ever voting again.

Step 9. Give yourself a pat on the back.

Congratulations. You just voted. How does it feel to be part of the democratic process? This is a rhetorical question. You do not have to answer it.

I hope this new procedure will make voting in Florida a bit easier. I have a feeling it still won’t work.

Maybe Home Depot will have a sale on chain link fencing by November.

Tips for the Finals

2008-04-20T09:09:00.019-04:00

~ Guide by Bryan Fantana

Finals’ week is coming up. I know you are probably thinking, “Shit, I forgot about those!” Well, don’t panic. Bryan Fantana is here to help. I am world-renowned for my charming good looks and my test taking skills. Yeah, that’s right. “Good test takers” do exist, and for the small fee of reading this article, I can make you one too!

Preparation

Preparing yourself for the final exams is important. Other “experts” will tell you to start studying over a week in advance of the finals. I know better. We both know you blew the entire semester on alcohol and Madden 08. Trying to now cram four months of material into your ugly face isn’t going to work. Just try to relax. Learn what you can. Read over your notes. Realize how horrible your handwriting is. Is that a 1 (one) or an l (el)? No one knows for sure. That lecture was three weeks ago and you were the only one who bothered taking notes. Everyone else figured out your professor is an idiot and the lectures are pointless. And if you are still worried, jam every equation you ever heard of onto your formula sheet and hope one of them might be useful.

You might get the idea to talk to your professor if you have trouble understanding something or are worried about the test. Go ahead and forget about this idea. Your professor is a research professor. The university pays him to force work on graduate students. His paycheck doesn’t change if you make an A or an F. For that matter, wearing pants will not change if you make an A or an F either. Little known fact: tests are pants optional.

Taking the Test

It is test time. You will undoubtedly reek of alcohol and cat urine. Do not feel compelled to shower or to chew an entire pack of Orbit gum to hide the smell. This is not the first exam the proctors have administered and they will be accustomed to this sort of thing. You do not have to get to the testing site early and find a good seat. Remember: it’s not where the torture rack is, but who is turning the crank. Also, don’t worry about not knowing where your testing location is. Just follow the screams. Bring your calculator and a pencil. Be sure it’s a #2 pencil. May God have mercy if you slip up and bring a #39 pencil. One of the proctors might just smack the taste out of your mouth for that mistake.

Reading the directions is unnecessary. The directions are always the same.

“Follow all directions carefully … You have 90 minutes to complete this test … Mark all answers on the appropriate form … No smoking … No flash photography … Pull in case of emergency … No loitering after business hours … In the event of a water landing, your seat can be used as a floatation device ...”

Now it is time to answer some questions. You start off strong. The first question is pretty easy. He covered that one in the one lecture this semester you actually attended. Then you notice there are more questions. Then you notice there are more pages. There is even a graph or two. Why is there a page of conversion factors at the end? Do we have to convert something?

Thirty minutes into the test, that nerdy kid who always sits in front finishes his test and turns it in. This is devastating to what shreds of motivation you have left. That kid is lucky. His detention in hell is over. Not yours. You really pissed off the principal this time. You will be taking this test for the entire duration. Just keep in mind that being the first to finish a test does not mean you did better than everyone else. But it sure does score points with the ladies.

At some point during the test, you will crash. This is when you finally realize you should have gotten plenty of sleep the night before instead of hanging out in your friends’ dorm until 4 AM. The two gallons of Vault ® you drunk this morning have worn off. The ridiculously high levels of caffeine are good for a short interval of energy lasting just long enough for you to make it halfway into your test. Now the energy rush is gone. To get back that kick, I suggest feasting off the blood of the guy beside you. If you are not a vampire, cocaine is a good alternative.

A similar problem is the dreaded “blanking out.” This is when all of that knowledge in your skull realizes it has no contractual obligations and decides to skip town. You discover you did not know the material as well as you thought. Your mind starts to drift. If a butterfly flapping its wings in China can cause a tornado in Kansas, maybe the U.S. military can harness the destructive power of butterflies as a weapon of war. I’m sure with all the smart guys over at NASA somebody is working on this. Maybe that smart kid who left early is in on it. … AH! Focus! You try again at answering the question. Nope. That didn’t work. Now you have that YouTube video playing in your head that your friends made you watch three times last night.

You decide to skip the question and move on. This is the smartest move you will make all day. Maybe answering other questions will help you remember the information or the teacher will accidentally give away the answer in a later question. It’s possible. Maybe this test isn’t so bad after all.

What? There’s an essay portion? You’re screwed.

After the Test

The test is over. One of the proctors had to pry the test from your hands ten minutes after you were supposed to turn it in, but regardless you are done. You walk outside and spot some of your fellow classmates. The nerdy kids are talking about the test. The cool kids are smoking. Someone comes up to you and asks, “What did you put on question four?” Don’t bother answering. Answering with a “I think I put C” will only return a “No I’m pretty sure it wasn’t C because [insert really dumb explanation here]. You must have calculated something wrong. I think the answer was D.” Neither of you have a clue. In fact, no one does. The professor pulled that question directly from the textbook, and nobody reads that thing.

At this point, worry about beating the curve. In college and in life, it doesn’t matter how smart you are. The only thing that matters is how dumb everyone else is. You can take steps to lower the average score while keeping yours high. As the test is being passed around, circulate your own copies of the test. Just be sure to not take the wrong test. If that is not enough, get a couple of friends to ram a fire truck through the wall and start soaking the right side of the room. If you implement these strategies together, only 25% of the class will have a copy of the correct test and be dry. At best the class average will be a 25, in which case your 22 will actually be a C. Not bad, Rhodes Scholar.

An Ode to Sara

2008-04-13T09:15:00.019-04:00

~Article by Bryan Fantana

As I mentioned in my “mini” article for last week, The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America had its first meeting this past Thursday. The meeting was great. I’ll be honest; the whole point of the meeting was to have a meeting. We had a few diehard members of the group attend and contribute some great ideas. The internal support for the Moon Base was good enough for a first meeting. You can find the slides here: http://drop.io/OMBPOTUSA_Upload1

The Monday before the meeting, we placed table cards in a couple of the on-campus dining halls. The hope was to attract more members to the Moon Base Party. I was impressed with the fact that someone in Student Services actually approved the table cards. The table cards looked something like this:

After struggling with the maze for a few moments, you will realize you cannot get to the Moon Base and therefore you should come to the meeting. When designing the card, I had a feeling someone might read it and believe we are all about space exploration and moon colonization… completely forgetting about the babies! To counter this I made sure the maze included such items as Communism, Ricky Martin, and our motto “Do it for all the babies”.

I doubted we would have a massive turnout. For one thing, when was that last time a table card made you do anything? Second, we were competing with a Ben and Jerry’s free ice cream giveaway. Yeah. Moon Base or free ice cream? I was surprised anyone showed up. Third, there was a physics test on Friday night and some people were studying the night before. By “studying”, I mean they were at the ice cream giveaway.

So, Thursday evening arrived. It was game time. In the back of my mind I was wondering if the table cards would bring in newcomers. I had this awesome presentation ready to go, but in the preceding days I realized the presentation actually didn’t cover anything all that important. Again, I was happy just having a meeting. Allen, Jo, and I walked into Squires. I went to the information desk to get a key for the room. A young girl behind the desk greeted me in a Nigerian accent. (I am terrible at the nationality/accent game. For all I know, she could have been Austrian.) She asked for my ID and wanted me to initial a sign-in sheet. She saw “The Official Moon Base Party” and without the slightest inkling of hesitation, she asked

“’Official Moon Base Party’? Are you guys like about space travel and going to the Moon?”

I looked at her and said, “…yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’re serious?”

“(looking down) … no.”

“Then what is your organization about?”

“That’s why we are having a meeting.”

After a few awkward comments like this, she started to get it. She then said something along the lines of “I’ll be sure to schedule next Tuesday for a trip to space. Hehe.” I smiled and ran away.

Allen, Jo, and I traveled to the meeting room and began setting up for the presentation. The projector I rented from Event Planning was waiting for us. What a piece of crap that turned out to be. Allen used two thumb drives to prop up one of the corners of the projector. On a side note, it costs $7 to rent a crappy projector for a day and $1 for a guy to walk into the room and pull down the screen. I hope you enjoy the Diet Coke you bought with my dollar, you greedy bastards.

Around three minutes until 7:00 PM, people started showing up. They were all current members of the Party. In all, around twelve of our guys showed up. Not bad. Then non-party members arrived. Four in total. Jackpot! One guy sat towards the back. He looked familiar. I later found out he is in my astrophysics course. He seems like a pretty cool guy. The other three sat in the second row. Two of them were guys and the other was a girl. I have no idea what her name was, but for now I shall call her Sara. Stop right there. Here is a general rule of thumb about my articles. If I mention a girl in an article, center the girl’s name on your screen. Now scan over your monitor. Somewhere on your screen, THERE IS MUCH PAIN AND SUFFERING!

I began my presentation and all the Party members loved it. The new guy in the back seemed to enjoy it. The other two new guys chuckled a few times. Then there was the girl. She had on a half smile at first. Then after about the second slide, she leaned back in her chair with her arms folded and proceeded to glare at me for the remainder of the meeting. I was considered for my general well-being. I could never bring myself to look in her general direction in fear of making eye contact and then suddenly turning into stone.

We passed around a notebook for people to write down their first and last names along with their e-mail addresses. This was for anyone who wanted to sign up for the MOONBASE listserv. Yep. We have a listserv now. I included slides in the presentation on how to join the listserv, but then I realized it would be easier to just get people to write down their information and Allen or I would add them ourselves. At the end of the meeting, the trio promptly darted from the room. We immediately checked the notebook. All three names were in the same handwriting. None of the names were female. Some one thought one of the guys might be named Chris. None of the names were Chris. When we got back to the dorm, we checked the Virginia Tech website. All three names they gave were students at Tech. A quick Facebook search was fruitless. We are pretty sure none of those people were the three who showed up. Now there is a discussion amongst members of the Party as to whether or not to include these three guys anyway.

Regardless of their names, part of me feels terrible for ruining their night. Especially Sara. Oh Sara. I will never forget that half smile or those beautiful eyes. Those beautiful, fierce, burning, scalding, scorching, make-the-pain-stop, somebody-call-the-fire-department eyes. And when you rushed out that door, you rushed out of my life forever. Sara, I’m sorry for the things that have come between us; things like communication and common sense. So I wrote you a song to let you know how I feel. From the bottom of my heart, this goes out to you…

Go now don't look back we've drawn the line
Move on it's no good to go back in time

I'll never find another girl like you, for happy endings it takes two
We're fire and ice, the dream won't come true

Sara, Sara, storms are brewin' in your eyes
Sara, Sara, no time is a good time for goodbyes

Danger, in the game when the stakes are high
Branded, my heart was branded while my senses stood by

I'll never find another girl like you, for happy endings it takes two
We're fire and ice, the dream won't come true

Sara, Sara, storms are brewin' in your eyes
Sara, Sara, no time is a good time for goodbyes

('cause Sara) Loved me, like no one ever loved me before
(and Sara) Hurt me, no one could ever hurt me more
(and Sara) Sara
(and Sara) Nobody loved me anymore

I'll never find another girl like you
We're fire and ice, the dream won't come true

Sara, Sara, no time is a good time oh

Sara, Sara, storms are brewin' in your eyes
Sara, Sara, no time is a good time for goodbyes

Sara, Sara, storms are brewing in your eyes
Sara, Sara, no time is a good time, no
Oh Sara, why did it, why did it, why did it all fall apart

R.I.P. Bill

2008-04-06T09:22:00.021-04:00

~Memorial by Bryan Fantana

My computer died this week. Again.

After the third hard drive crashed in a record three months, I have sworn off Acers completely. Seriously, never buy those things.

This brings me to a couple of quick announcements.

+ Dude, I’m getting Dell!

+ With my computer out of commission, Kelvin down the hall is letting me barrow his extra tablet PC with the newest version of Office. I have discovered Microsoft really does suck as badly as everyone says it does. Microsoft’s degree of suckiness is neither a myth nor an exaggeration. Normally I am cool with Microsoft. However there is nothing redeeming about the abomination that is Microsoft Office 2007. I can only imagine some programmer at Microsoft told everyone, “Hey guys. I’m a conformist douchebag who loves Firefox and tab browsing because that’s what other young kids are into. I think we should put tabs on everything!” … And everyone at Microsoft loved his idea. The whole tabs instead of toolbars is only a minor annoyance compared to the user-friendly features they decided to get rid of. Yes, Microsoft Word had user-friendly features, such as being able to select more than one picture at a time and having single-spacing as a default. Again, don’t upgrade to Office 2007. Don’t even think about Vista.

+ I have all intentions of destroying my old laptop sometime soon. Any ideas would be appreciated.

+ I have all intentions of writing a good entry sometime soon. Any ideas would be appreciated.

And last but not least…

+ The Official Moon Base Party of the United States of America will be holding its first official meeting this Thursday, April 10, 2008 in Squires 341 at 7:00 PM. Topics to be discussed are:

- The Moon

- Babies

- Moon babies

- Building a Moon Base

- WWII memorabilia

- Structure of the organization

- Internal communication

- Muffins

- Construction of a separate website

- Registering a listserv

- Honda Civics: 1991-1998 models

- Community outreach

- TV/VCR repair

- Home decorating

- Business management or accounting

- And much more!

For anyone who is able to attend, please do so. For anyone who is not able to attend, I’ll try to post the finished slides next weekend.

Until next time, take care my babies!

Origin of the Universe

2008-03-30T09:31:00.027-04:00

~Article by Bryan Fantana

Astrophysics is a fun and challenging field of study. It is impressive how much of the universe can be understood just by staring through the lens of a telescope and listening to radio signals from outer space. I am currently taking an introduction to astrophysics class. It is a survey course which gives you some understanding of how astronomers figure out everything without getting into the details of General Relativity or advanced mathematics. Regardless, I have a test in that class tomorrow. With cosmology on the brain, I decided to give a rundown of a few theories about the origin of the universe. Some of these theories may be familiar to you. Some of them may not. I will try not to go into too much detail on these theories. You know how to use Wikipedia.

Theory: Big Bang

Description: The universe started out very small, very dense, and very hot. Over billions of years, the universe expanded into its present size. The “Big Bang” does not technically refer to an explosion at time t = 0. A better name would be “The Expanding Universe Model.”

Age of the Universe: About 13.7 billion years

End of the Universe: All of the matter in the universe will either sit in burned out stars, get sucked into black holes, or be scattered throughout space. If Stephen Hawking and others are correct, the black holes will eventually fizzle out leaving the universe a sea of dead stars, dust, and radiation.

Support: Edwin Hubble noticed that the further away a galaxy was the faster it moved away from us. This direct observation of the expanding universe has come to be known as Hubble’s Law. Early proponents of the Big Bang theory predicted the universe would be filled with a bath of microwaves. In the 1960s a couple of radio engineers discovered this Cosmic Microwave Background. Also, the abundances of known elements throughout the universe match those predicted by the theory.

Dissent: The Cosmic Microwave Background is very smooth. Almost too smooth. The curvature of space seems very flat. This is a somewhat improbable result. These issues could be resolved by the idea of inflation (the universe expanded incredibly fast at some point in its early life). Evidence for inflation is still coming in. There are other issues which still need addressing including the possible existence of magnetic monopoles and the asymmetry between matter and antimatter. Then there is the question of “What happened at the very beginning that kicked off the universe?” No one knows for sure, but that has not stopped astronomers from investigating.

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Theory: We’re on TV!

Description: You and everyone you know are actors in a television program. We are nothing more than a marketing skem to sell aliens shampoo. Some type of cosmic director runs the show watched by advanced aliens in a higher dimension. We live on one channel while other universes exist on other channels. This means if we were able to find the TV Guide universe, we could seriously avoid some crap later on down the road.

Age of the Universe: About 70 years

End of the Universe: Ratings for our universe will plummet. This may be due to the alien viewers getting bored with our shenanigans and turning the channel, or the ratings drop might be due to the premier of a new season of Cosmic Scrubs. Our production agency will cancel the show leaving our universe in constant rerun in the TV Land universe.

Support: Try the new NEUTROGENA® T/Gel® Shampoo and Conditioner. Helps moisturize that dry, itchy scalp and keeps your hair looking clean and smelling fresh all day. Try the new NEUTROGENA® T/Gel® Shampoo and Conditioner today!

Dissent: We still have Dane Cook. You would think cosmic producers would have fired his unfunny ass three seasons ago.

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Theory: Fractal Universe

Description: The universe is one colossal fractal. Okay so check this out. Essentially everything exists in a super-symmetric pattern. The components of the pattern are copies of the pattern itself. Regardless of how far you could zoom in or out, the universe would look the same. There really is no beginning!

Age of the Universe: Like, forever, man.

End of the Universe: Dude, I guess that means the universe never ends. Far out!

Support: There are spirals everywhere. Clouds on Earth spin in spirals. The Great Red Spot on Jupiter is a spiral. Even our galaxy is a spiral. The entire universe is a spiral!

Dissent: Observations show the universe is not a fractal. In fact, at large scales everything seems pretty smooth. Only a handful of things in the universe are spirals. Stop smoking your bong and go to class.

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Theory: Cattle Cosmology

Description: A supreme cow called the Omega Cow created the universe so that cows can produce milk. Cows are the chosen creatures. All of the stars, galaxies, nebulae, and dark matter are there to give the cows on Earth something pretty to look at. The Omega Cow made humans to milk the cows.

Age of the Universe: About 22 billion years

End of the Universe: The universe will end when we eat all of the cows. The Omega Cow will realize making humans was a mistake. She will destroy this universe and start over again with a new universe containing no humans.

Support: Mad Cow Disease is the Omega Cow’s warning to all of us that her judgment is coming.

Dissent: This one is totally true. I had my doubts at first. Then, I saw a Chick-fil-a ® commercial where cows parachuted into a football stadium to tell everyone to eat more chicken. If they can do all the stuff those commercials say they can, then cows have to be the dominant species in the universe.

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Theory: Neil Cavuto’s Daydream

Description: The entire universe is an elaborate reverie from the mind of Neil Cavuto during a commercial break. Neil doesn’t have time to grab a snack and everyone says his hair looks fine. He has nothing to do for the next few minutes. So he’s just going to sit there until the red light on the camera cuts back on.

Age of the Universe: About 2 minutes

End of the Universe: The commercial break will end and it will be time for Neil to interview six strippers on why they are giving lap dances to the homeless. There is a chance later tonight the universe will reappear in his dreams alongside a battleship made of grape jelly and Ann Coulter.

Support: It is hard to say what is up there in Neil Cavuto’s head. Maybe it is possible for him to imagine our universe into existence. After all, he does host a show titled “Your World with Neil Cavuto”.

Dissent: Neil appears in this universe. How could he imagine the universe if he is in the universe? Unless he is imaging himself in the universe. Then maybe he is imagining himself in a universe imaging a universe in which he imagines himself imagining … OMG! INFINTE LOOP OF IMAGINATION!!!

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Theory: Young Earth Creationism

Description: An omnipotent, omniscient, omnibenevolent entity called God created the Earth, life, and all of the cosmos in six 24 hour days. There was Adam and Eve who lived amongst the dinosaurs in the Garden of Eden. One day a serpent tricked Eve into eating an apple, which pissed off God. He banished Adam and Eve from the Garden. Thanks to Eve’s adventures in the world of fruit, we are all born with “the original sin” and women bleed from their vaginas. Several generations later God sent his son Jesus to die for this sin and now we can all go to Heaven and be with God as long as we accept Jesus as our savior. Vaginas still bleed because even though God says He forgives us, He isn’t totally ready to be friends yet. God made light from distant stars start most of the way towards us so that we may be tricked into thinking the stars are very old. All of science is wrong and anyone who doubts any of this is being ignorant and intolerant.

Age of the Universe: 6010 years, 5 months, and 7 days as of March 30, 2008.

End of the Universe: God will get pissed again. This time it will probably be over something like gays get married or a Democrat winning the White House. The antichrist will appear and start taking over the world. God will send Jesus back to Earth to kick some ass. Everyone will either be in Heaven with God or burning in the pits of Hell for all of eternity.

Support: This is all clearly stated in the Bible.

Dissent: All of the evidence … ever.

IDK, My BFF Fantana?

2008-03-23T16:04:00.015-04:00

~Article by Bryan Fantana

Every week I explore the Intertubes in a quest to discover the next great blog idea. Normally I am met with disappointment. This week was different. I found something quite remarkable. Did someone develop a clean alternative to fossil fuels? Nope. Did Anonymous finally destroy Scientology? Nope. Did someone post a hilarious compilation of cats wearing funny hats? No, but you’re getting closer. Last week Paris Hilton announced she will be hosting a new show this fall on MTV titled I Wanna Be Paris’ New Best Friend. Let me turn it over to the official website to explain more.

“Do you long to strut into the world's most elite hotspots without a care in the world except how fabulous you are? Ever wish the velvet ropes didn't exclude you from the social circles of the A-List? Well now's your chance to bypass the bourgeois because Paris Hilton is looking for a new best friend, and she's set her sites on you! MTV is giving the opportunity of a lifetime to one girl or guy who has what takes to become Paris Hilton's new BFF. That's hot!”

Here is how it works. Potential “besties” create profiles on the website. They fill their new profiles with blogs, pictures, and videos. Then other users vote on whose profile is the best. The select few who receive the most votes will get a chance to appear on the show where Paris will decide if you have what it takes to be her new BFF. This will be promptly followed by a fight in an LA dance club at 3 AM over some guy you just meet.

Let this sink in. Paris Hilton needs a new best friend and she thinks “xX_AnGeLkIsSeS0907_Xx” might be it! As you might have guessed, this popularity game is now riddled with Internet trolls voting on the dumbest profiles they can find. Tay Zonday is currently in third place. Good for him, but what about me? What about Bryan Fantana? I want to travel to exotic hotspots, go behind velvet ropes, snort cocaine, and be part of the young Hollywood scene. Paris, I want to be your new BFF!

I am perfect for the job. I know how to have fun. I have done tons of wild and crazy things. Once Mom said I could not drink soda right before bedtime. I was all like “I’m in college. I can do what I want!” Then when she wasn’t looking I chugged a can of Mountain Dew. Not the diet stuff either. REGULAR MOUNTAIN DEW! I am so hardcore. I am down with the party scene. My house has been the location of over seven outdoor cookouts. The last cookout was so crazy Uncle Ted throw up on our sofa. Yeah, my parties are that rocking. And you do not have to worry about being seen out in public with me. I am very popular. Ever hear of Fanta? Yeah, that’s named after me.

I am superfabolous. I am so superfabolous that I’m not going to go back and fix my spelling. The dictionary ain’t the boss of me! I am real cool and real fly. I know how to keep it real in the hood, on the streets, and in the club. In fact I keep it so real that most people cannot see me. That’s right. I’m so real that I’m invisible.

Paris, you and I are so much alike. We are both really hot. You are a supermodel and a fashion icon. I am currently wearing my good pair of blue jeans. We are both the heirs of wealthy families. Your parents own the Holiday Inn or something while my family owns stock in Lowes. Lowes is doing pretty well you know. We even both have sex tapes. Yours was with that pig Rick Salomon and mine was with that cow down in Mr. Mason’s barn.

I know big celebrities like you have to deal with vigilante photographers all the time. You have no need to fear. Bryan Fantana is here! I can handle the paparazzi. I know kickass-fu! They will be all like “Can we take your picture?” and I will be all like “Not today!” and then I’ll like beat’em up and stuff and right at the end I’ll say something really clever like “Take a picture of this” and I’ll kick them in the pancreas. In the pancreas! I told you I was hardcore.

I will be a good best friend. When I was little I was an expert at building pillow forts in the living room. With all the pillows in that big house of yours we could build a monster fort and fight off the Olsen Twins until the break of dawn. My friends say I am great at posting bail and hiding bodies. Oh, man! You would love my friends. One of them is a purple zebra named Osmodier and the other is my good friend Alex. Alex is a floating trumpet. They know how to keep it real too. You would get along well with them. Just watch out for Alex. He gets really angry when he’s drunk.

Paris, as BFFs, you and I could team up and take on Hollywood. Steven Spielberg would be begging to have Paris and Fantana staring in all his latest films. You would be even more popular than ever before. Together we could build an empire! Join me young Paris. It is your destiny.

Please, please, PLEASE, pick me to be your new BFF! Love ya girl! XOXOXO