“If you only knew the power of the Dark Side”. It’s amazing what some parlor tricks and rolling around like a bad ass in a sweet ride can do for you. That said, Darth Vader, for all intents and purposes, is dressed like a clown.

Is this blasphemy among nerds? Perhaps, but he does walk around with platform shoes, a tricked out track suit, and a cape. There’s only one other dude who could pull that off (Elvis) and he didn’t even summon force lightning. You might be confused as to how they relate – it all comes down to mind tricks (yes, that’s technically a Jedi power; I’m mixing my Star Wars metaphors, but hear me out). You put on a good enough show and people will believe whatever you’re selling.

Christine O’Donnell may have given up witchcraft, passing it off as youthful hijinks. That doesn’t mean she isn’t still practicing some kind of dark arts to an ancient underworld god. The woman has done literally nothing and yet in the span of a week no one can shut up about her, including us. Palin, the Emperor to her Vader, at least was Governor of Alaska first.

My best explanation for this is a power I’m unable to fathom to its true depths – stupidity. You’d think with my Rainman-like ability to recall Simpsons episodes and unhealthy devotion to starting some sort of 80′s Renaissance that my personality would be balanced out with some sort of mental handicap. Idiot savant qualities aside, I’m smart enough to realize stupid when it smacks you in the face. Seeing O’Donnell launched into the limelight is like getting floored by a Mack truck. Which brings me back to my original point – if you only knew the power of stupidity.

Quick example. Go into a Burger King. You’ll see they have three size for their meals – medium, large, and king size. Try explaining the concept of “medium”, the middle size, to an employee. See who wins in that contest of wills as the employee sluggishly fumbles for a “small” button alongside a vacant, confused stare. What happens? You give up and ask for a medium. Stupidity wins.

I propose a three step process, the Looney Tunes process, for dealing with stupidity:

There may be a reason we confuse CNN with Cartoon News Network.

1) Distract – Elmer Fudd doesn’t understand a sound argument. What he does understand is that he’d rather kiss an anthropomorphic rabbit in a dress with a blonde wig than hunt Bugs (and who could blame him?). That would certainly explain the pitbull with lipstick.

2) Confuse – Rabbit Season! Duck Season! Primary Season! Election Season! You don’t confuse an idiot with logic. What do you is ask a blindingly simple question that should be answerable to anyone who can tie their own shoes. “What magazines do you read?” stumped Palin. Hell, you might be able to get away with convincing O’Donnell that she’s a Democrat and have her run a smear campaign against herself.

3) Anvil – They’re distracted and confused. That’s when you hit ‘em where it hurts, sarcasm, the Acme anvil of the debate world. Both ridiculing and baffling to idiots, smart-assery is our best defense and our most potent weapon. Which just goes to show that Jon Stewart is the Luke Skywalker in this poorly constructed analogy.

And that’s where we come in. When we look back and question years spent on TV and JCVD movies, we don’t think we’ve wasted our time with mundane trivial pop culture references and general idiocy. We’re preparing for the future. We like to think we’re doing it for the greater good. Your good.

Concentrated Awesome – the last line of defense against stupidity.

Tragedy struck Brooklyn Thursday as thousands of hipsters were displaced after the touchdown of a tornado in Park Slope. Lens-less horn rimmed glasses were scattered along sidewalks as residents in Williamsburg attempted to pick up the pieces after a storm broke through NYC, leaving many without power to their Macbook Pros.

“How will I know what I should be buying from Steve Jobs!?” worried one resident. Small coffee houses were quickly pulled together as small “shanty towns” where the survivors could band together to check their Facebook status and, even more critically, their social status. For those lucky enough to have rescued them, unopened copies of Kerouac and Kafka placed strategically for all to see are keeping their street cred afloat for the time being.

Fighting and minor riots have broken out at several bars after a sense of lawlessness gripped many as ownership of the establishment has flip flopped multiple times. “I don’t give a crap how many badges he’s earned on Gowalla, Foursquare says I’m the mayor!” cried one resident. “And don’t even give me that ‘Checked in with Facebook’ bullshit.” Looting has been at a minimum simply because no one wants the crap the hipsters have hoarded.

This man lost his ironically bad porn star mustache.

Not everyone is as distraught about the disaster, though. “A tornado in NYC? How very mid-western, Mother Nature!” quipped one Brooklynite sporting a blue jumper and a recently purchased terrier named Toto. Residents have attempted to take something from this senselessness by being even more senseless, starting the “Oz” fashion line. Ruby slippers sales have gone through the roof in the last day.

It’s also been a great chance for hipsters to finally achieve the disheveled, homeless lifestyle of the poor they’ve sought for so many years. Of course, without a true sense of the world outside of their wardrobe, this irony is lost on them.

The Salvation Army has been requesting volunteers to keep up with demand. “These assholes buy us out every Saturday already. Now we’re doing double duty! We should’ve had one of these tornadoes here a while ago!”. Specifically, requests have been made for donations of outdated audio equipment, specifically tape decks and 8-tracks, and faded 70′s throwback tees.

Still, the community suffers and several charities have been set up to rebuild. “If you’ve got a little sister, raid that closet. Her size 2 jeans could mean the difference between life or death for these douchebags out here! We’re also taking donations for clove cigarettes and any shitty beer you may have – I’m talking Pabst, Milwaukee’s Best, Keystone, you name it – please donate it. It’s the lifeblood of this community.”

Admit it. Your fantasy team is missing something. It’s not a rookie RB, a backup TE or a sleeper WR. It could be a Brodie Croyle, whatever that is (or even a Captain Munnerlyn or a Rock Cartwright). But it’s most likely a winning team name. Fortunately for you, we’re all over it, like Brittney Spears on her bodyguard (he’s not a slave 4 u, he’s hired help). Feel free to incorporate our Witten and thank us when you’re declared the Champ, drinking Bailey’s. Of course, since we’re more familiar with Jack Daniels than Owen Daniels, there’s a chance our monikers could be Haynesworthless.

Coaches
[Bill] Belichick Flick
Todd Haley’s Comet
Eric Mangini in a Bottle
Pinched Norv [Turner]
Turn Your Head and [Tom] Coughlin

Used to be Hot Chicks, Coaches Division
Andy “Tara” Reid
Mike “Jenny” McCarthy
Wade “Wilson” Phillips

Lace ‘em up: This is the only time of the year when men are thinking more about Randy Moss than Kate Moss.

Simpsons References
Smellin’ of Troy [Polamalu]
Stupid Like a John Fox
Rex “Banner” Ryan
Fat Tony Sparano
Raheem Brockville
Ben RoethlisKrustyberger (and let’s not forget his backup, Byron Leftoriumwitch)

Simpsons References Better Suited for 5 Years Ago
Groundskeeper Willie Parker
Kwik-E- [Mike] Martz
Jonathan Ogdenville

Internet References
4Chan Gailey
Don’t Taze Me, [Tim] Tebow
Like a Kevin Boss
Two Girls, One [Ryan] Succop
Dirty Mark Sanchez
[Lance] Moore Cowbell

[Joseph] Funny or Addai

80′s References
Michael Turner & Hooch
Jamaal Charles in Charge
Breakin’ 2: Electric Legedu [Naanee]
Jeff “Fisher” Stevens
Jim Use the Schwartz
[Tony] Romo Arigato, Mr. Roboto
Vince Young Guns

Fast [Lawrence] Tynes at Ridgemont High

90′s References
[T.J.] Housh [mandzadeh] of Pain
Reggie Wayne’s World
Eddie Royal with Cheese
[Darrelle] Revis and Butthead
Shonn Greene Day (goes great with Hank Baskett Case)
Red Hot Julius Peppers
but if you prefer R&B, Chris Cooleyhighharmony
[Mike] Living Singletary
[Kevin] Faulk You, Pay Me

Mike Sims-Walker, Texas Ranger

Brady Quinn, Medicine Woman

Ghetto [Ndamukong] Suhperstar

Video Game References
Matt Casselvania
Flawless [Michael] Vicktory

Devin Aromashoduken

Russell Okung Fu

Ken WhisenDuckhunt

Golden Axe Tate

Take ‘em [Michael] Oher Leave ‘em, it’s Your [Tashard] Choice
Corn [Kevin] Kolb Pipe
Charlie Batch of Cookies
Dexter McClusterfuck
[Kyle] Orton Hears a Who
The More You Knowshon
Heath Miller Light (or, if you want to be less specific, Matt Light Beer)
Jake Delhomme Schooled
Pierre Garcon of a Bitch
[Brian] The Hurt Urlacher
[Josh] Scobee Doo
[Scott] Chicken Fujita

Walk the [Matt] Leinert

Arian [Foster] Nations

The Longest [David] Garrard

Google Instant launched today, which sounds more like swill Starbucks is looking to charge $7.95 for rather than a new technology from the web’s search giant. So what’s it do, you ask? Well, you could go to Google itself and find out, but you’re lazy, drunk, and most likely have some sort of mental handicap, which explains why you’re here.

“Clicking buttons? That’s for suckers!” you belch out along with half a case of Mountain dew, Doritos crumbs spilling from your gullet. Even Amazon still makes you click 1 button when purchasing their shill. Faster than you can scream “I want a golden goose egg!”, you Veruca Salt your way to Google, where you find that no longer do you need to click that pesky “search” button to get your hourly fix of T&A. Google jumps right to it and grabs your Twilight/Anne Rice slash fic before you even feel the hint of regret creep up your spine.

Google has a great model on their hands – giving your more while making you do less. Tons of other companies could learn a thing or two here, most notably:

Google Instant: Because your porn can’t get there fast enough.

1) Burger King – Having it my way means I don’t have to “drive through” to get my arteries clogged. Chewing AND swallowing? FUCK YOU! Burger King has teamed up with your local free clinic to inject the cholesterol directly into your vascular system. It also comes with a cardboard mask of “The King” to cover up the loss in muscular control in your face after your first stroke.

2) Windows – Don’t boot your computer. In fact, better not take it out of the box. It’s got several viruses and a hacker in Russia already has your credit card info. Dasvidaniya bank account!

3) World of Warcraft – We’ve taken hundreds of dollars from your wallet, 5 years of your life, your sexual prime, and any chance at having a normal interaction with anyone outside of an internet cafe. In return, here’s a pixelated picture of an elf with some “unique” armor that everyone else has.

4) Facebook – Save your time logging in. We’ve already clicked on every one of your Farmville and Mafia Wars accounts. No one who matters has commented on your wall and your favorite band isn’t going to read your latest post on theirs. Also, we know everything there is to know about you. Here are a bunch of ads for you to look at.

5) Twitter – Summing up every tweet ever: People had some delicious sandwiches today, a bunch of people took a poop, and Ashton Kutcher is still a douche.

6) Fox – Don’t worry, before you even have a chance of enjoying a show, Fox will cancel it on you, saving you the heartbreak. As for Fox News, they’ve gone ahead and blamed every crisis from now until 2016 on Obama. “We’re fucked. Thanks Obama!” will flash in a corner of the screen at all times.

7) LA Clippers – They’re just going to sit this season, and why the hell not, the next five out. If you have season tickets, you’ll receive a package in the mail marked “Shame” that’s just a recording of all your annoying friends who jumped on the Lakers bandwagon taunting you. If you have the floor seats, it’ll also come with directions to the nearest bridge or tall building you can jump off.
Concentrated Awesome – Your next 1,000 posts: Zombie zombies zombies. Pun. Incoherent cursing. 0 Pageviews.

Marc

200 posts is no laughing matter. And not laughing is exactly what you, dear readers, have done at least 200 times (we understand that you’re all LOL’ed -out after looking at grainy pics of housecats butchering the English language). The only audience who’s waited this patiently for a chuckle without it coming is Jay Leno’s. It seems like just yesterday that we were at 100, but, then again, I have no sense of time and thought yesterday was March 11, 2009. To emphasize the magnitude of this achievement, I thought I’d turn to one of the most significant speeches in our nation’s history for help, revising it slightly to suit our tastes. Four high scores and seven beers ago…

I’ll admit I didn’t travel to Gettysburg, PA to deliver the address, but I did stand in front of an abandoned Getty gas station and I think that’s close enough. Like a spoon, I was stirring. Those hobos clapped so hard the part of their gloves covering their fingers fell clean off. You haven’t truly been honored until a pack of vagrants gives you an ovation and a half-crushed cigarette out of respect. I may not have grown up in a log cabin, but if home is where you feel most at ease, then the internet is my home (Lady Foot Locker being a close second) and Will and I have built an impressive blog cabin with our bare, dirty hands and minds. What’s more, our abode is impenetrable to termites (stick that in your stovepipe hat and smoke it, Abe). It’s no coincidence that we sometimes receive a penny for our disjointed thoughts, the very coin that bears Lincoln’s face. With so many similarities to our 16th President, it’s no wonder I’m paranoid that Powers Boothe is planning to assassinate me (fitting, that a man from Tombstone will be responsible for my death, although ironic because I want to be cremated).

200 posts means it's "Go" time.

The point is, 200 posts in, we’re still not responsible for a civil war. We haven’t even caused a flame war. However, we are responsible for the Food Network’s Cupcake Wars (we’re so sorry). But now is not the time to wallow in disappointment. Instead, we must bask in our success…the overwhelming success of our breathtaking failure. Failure to attract an audience or advertisers or investors, failure to turn a profit, failure to produce any material of quality or value, failure to come to a complete stop at an intersection (I can’t help it that I’m red-green-yellow colorblind). In a medium rife with pointless distractions, we’re still striving to be the most pointless. If I have one regret about Concentrated Awesome (besides not writing every post three sheets to the wind), it’s that when you Google search the site, the engine helpfully suggests “concentration camps.” Good to know that Google would rather direct its users to read about heinous acts of genocide than our latest paean to JCVD. Yes, the only ‘hit’ we’re associated with is “Hitler.” Being wrong never felt so Reich.

Readers, I stand before you today, seated in a chair, which I had hoped to be a jewel-encrusted throne, for our goal was to be kings of the internet by now. Yet, we’re no closer to royalty than that mysterious Minnesotan musician, Prince, who declared the internet dead.  If that’s true, we’re going to attempt to resurrect it — like Mickey Rourke’s career — and command it to feast on your grey matter or whatever’s left of it after reading 200 of our posts. We’d be doing a disservice to you and, more importantly, ourselves if we didn’t try to zombie all that we can zombie. After all, we’re still looking for someone to be the brains of this operation.

Will

They said we’d never get this far. Well, ok, no one said that. They, being an audience that knows who we are, don’t exist. So I suppose I said we’d never get this far. Well you’re wrong, brain. DEAD wrong. Hm, my head feels funny…

Whew, ok, I just climbed off the floor. You obviously didn’t see it, but my brain just threw me into a full body seizure for 5 minutes and I peed my pants. I guess we know who runs the show. Well played, noodle. Just be wary the next time I stick a Q-tip in my ear…

What have we learned in 100 posts since our last state of the blog? Very little, which means we’re right there with the rest of the country, except of course we know that Obama wasn’t born in Kenya. He was born on Mars (which does actually make him socialist, being from the “red” planet and all).

We did get sued earlier this year. That’s kinda like getting published, if said publication is run by assholes. I guess I can see how we fit in. Totally caving in to the demands of Hollywood makes us like the rest of the sell outs, except we didn’t get paid. Half way there!

I gripe about our audience, but there’s value in obscurity. Conan hosted the Tonight Show and, despite being really funny, still got fired. Until El Maestro Del Internet finds us, I suppose we’re safe in our tiny island of ambiguity. And hey, Jersey Shore got renewed. If that’s your idea of fame, you can keep it (except for Marc’s rock hard abs – I saw him out crush a garbage compactor with them once!).

We don’t do this for the glory – or the money or power, for that matter. Sure, the girls are nice (we don’t mean women sleep with us, we mean our moms pack us lunches with notes inside), but we have a higher calling than that. At least, I’d like to think detailing events from The Expendables is the Lord’s work. It’s like that part in the Bible where Jesus fights the three headed snake, then surfed at the Sunnyvale competition to raise money for the teen center. Billy Zabka would totally make an awesome Satan. There’s no doubt he went to Duke, so he’s already got the Blue Devil thing going for him.

My shaky grasp of Catholicism notwithstanding, we tell ourselves we do it for you. We do it for the craft. We do it because talking to the void in a blog post comes off as less crazy than muttering about it on the subway and cheaper than paying a psychiatrist. Besides, if there’s a drug to cure preparation for a zombie apocalypse, I don’t want it.