These poor critters carry, deliver, and raise their young in such painful and deadly ways, the so-called Miracle of Life becomes a curse of pissed-off-warlock proportions.
New Cracked column! Human pregnancy certainly isn’t fun, but it could be much, much worse. You could be this cute lil’ froggie, who birthed her babies by literally puking them up like a frat boy after eating five bowls of Jell-O shots. Or any of the other terrible horrorshow pregnancies nature has dreamed up over the years.
The “superhero without superpowers” deal sounds nice, until you realize that every single one of them is naturally leveled up to the point where they become superpowered by default. No actual human could possess or accomplish what these people do, so the implication that these people are powerless, yet still super somehow, is pure bullshit.
My first article for Dorkly is now live. I should probably be awarded a medal for this one, because I’m treading uncharted waters and doing what nobody on the Internet dares to do — take a giant shit all over Batman and his like-minded buddies.
I grew up in communist Romania under the watchful eye of despotic president Nicolae Ceausescu. I watched my country torn to tatters, and it still hasn’t even halfway recovered.
I edit, I column, and now I interview for Cracked! This here’s my first attempt at Dick Joke Journalism, where I help somebody who grew up in Communist Romania tell her story. There was way more JR Ewing and middle-aged women pretending to be John Wayne then you might have imagined.
For something as absurd as pro wrestling, most of their championships are decided in a somewhat-realistic manner. One athlete bests another thanks to superior power and athleticism, and walks around with a shiny belt until some skinny writer makes them give it to someone else.
Occasionally though, wrestling chucks that crap out the window, blatantly reminding us how fake their product is, and…
Say what you want about Snakes on a Plane as a movie, but at least it delivered on its title. There was a plane, and that plane had snakes right on it … Sadly, that kind of integrity is rare in Hollywood. More often, we get our hearts broken with empty promises like …
I wrote a new thing on Cracked, which means you have a new thing on Cracked to love forever and ever.
Some movie titles tell you exactly what to expect, like Dracula, others prefer to seduce with vagueness, like Shawshank Redemption. But some just lie their asses off to make you buy a ticket, like the clown cases I took to task.
If you think a music act sucks, few feelings are more satisfying than when they finally go away. No longer will you be bombarded by horrible sounds that you can easily avoid with just the tiniest bit of effort! Never again will anybody without sufficient talent make money in the recording industry! Huzzah!
For 40+ years, I’ve been forced to climb a mountain by the taskmasters at CBS. And not just climb — I’m expected to topple over the edge and crash some 100 feet (well, it’s 100 feet to me anyways) to a death that I pray will quickly come and yet never does. I’d sooner perform one of those mundane nothing jobs you losers constantly complain about. Oh, you operate a cash register and sometimes ring up multiple items? How I weep. When’s the last time you ended up in fucking traction because your co-worker didn’t know the price of milk?
So I finally organized me a real website, and even bought a real URL (my own name, because I’m a fucking egomaniac.) Whenever I’m able to, I’ll try to post some site-exclusive content in addition to the HIRE ME message that it is the main point of this project.
Today, I present Article the First, a sad tale of how awful an existence the yodeling dude from the Price is Right leads, falling to his doom day in and day out and going home alone to an empty apartment every time.
This was originally written for The Geekout last march, and they even paid me for it, but they done vanished into thin air before posting it. So, their loss is my site’s gain. Not to mention my wallet’s.
Every role should be played by somebody that Outraged Nerd Inc. will immediately proclaim doesn’t “fit the part,” but who could theoretically turn in an awesome performance and prove ONI wrong yet again.
I wrote a new thing for Topless Robot, where I cast the Batman/Superman movie in the most rage-baity manner possible, like having the squeaky-voiced girl from Big Bang Theory portray Harley Quinn. Hell, why not? Intentionally trolling easily-angered nerds who think they know everything is apparently where this movie is headed anyhow. Might as well take it to its logical limit.
I all but abandoned the gaming world for years on end. I’ve started playing again, though, and it’s like stepping into an alien planet.
I used to play video games hardcore. Then work and fatherhood took over. Lately though, I’ve been playing more and more, even though the new gaming world is scary and different. So I wrote up a column for Cracked detailing just how different. I was eating Werther’s Originals and listening to Pat Boone the entire time.
Well shoot, I wrote this article at the end of 2013, but it wasn’t posted till the 6th of this month. I didn’t see it till the 10th of this month. And I’m just now hawking it on Tumblr, on the 13th of this month. Just in time for everybody to break their own New Year’s Resolutions, actually. I’m timelier than I thought.
Anyhows, here it is, written for CBS National. Ten sports stars and their New Years Resolutions, as told to me by them. Because what multimillionaire athlete WOULDN’T want some nobody Internet clown to record them saying humiliating shit that would get them in so much lock room trouble? None, that’s how many.
With nobody telling the musicians that they should probably stick to musicianing, we ended up with adventures in idiocy such as these.
New Cracked column today! Occasionally, hair metal people tried to tell actual stories in their music videos, instead of simply thrusting their genitals at any groupie that gyrated their way. They should’ve stuck with genital-thrusting.
Today’s sports, with their sterile coherency and yawn-inducing devotion to player safety, need an upgrade. And what better way to do so than steal from the past? Pro sports used to have some incredibly entertaining rules that, if we brought them back, would guarantee everybody involved untold billions. Like the basketball cage up above. Why should the UFC have all the bloody fun?
I advocate this and many other irresponsible ideas in today’s Cracked Column. Any league commissioners reading this, take notes.
Recently, I attended the victory parade for the Red Sox. Even though Boston wins at least six championships a year, I had never been able to attend a parade because retail. But I made it this year, and even wrote an article for Tailgate Fan about what I learned! So the next time your city wins a title (obviously, I’m excluding Cleveland here,) do everything I recommend and you’ll have fun. Don’t, and you’ll probably die horribly or something. I don’t know, I never checked into that.
My Fantasy Football Diary rages on, while my fantasy football record limps on. I already suck, and now I’ve lost Aaron Rodgers for at least three weeks. Oh well, at least it should provide fresh material for the next couple installments.
So WGN Morning News in Chicago just interviewed me via Skype about the horrors of the Convenience Store business. It went very well, so for any future TV appearances, I may need to up my fee from “nothing” to “something.”
And now something new on Cracked! For six years, I worked in the convenience store industry, and saw some things. Horrible, awful, atrocious things. So I wrote a bunch of jokes about them, even managing to sneak in some pictures of me me me. Because Soren’s had a monopoly on Cracked Columnists With Purty Hair for too damn long; time to challenge his ass.
I also forgot to shill the third installment of my Fantasy Football Loser diary; I suck! In this one, I really bit it, and am all but out of playoff contention in at least one league. I thin my Patriots should go ahead and win the Super Bowl by a hundred points, simply to make me feel better.
And one more from Listverse! This one explains the origins of a bunch of pop-culture tropes (such as the Dumb Blonde pictured) that every lazy hack writer inevitably falls back on when deadline looms. Not that I would know anything about that.
Another recent Listverse piece (I’ve been very lazy about shameless shilling as of late); this one’s all about awesome stars far more interesting than our own. I visited them all myself to confirm. They were awesome.
I’m back to writing for Listverse, a site more devoted to facts than punchlines, though the new editors are cool with a few jokes here and there, something I shall always approve. Here’s one all about deadly lakes, rivers, and any other body of water made of 99 44/100 pure psychopath. Happy swimming!
Awhile back, Tori Amos released a concept album where she took a dozen songs originally done by men, and retold them from a “woman’s perspective.” As it turns out, that was shorthand for “I like these songs and want to sing them.” Not one word was changed, and there were no new perspectives. That’s not a concept album; that’s a cover album.
It’s also proof that, even among musical geniuses, the whole “concept album” thing is near-impossible to get right. And yet they keep trying, because they’re rockstars and nobody wants to tell them they’re wrong. Unless their goal is to give me enough material for a sequel, then they should really move on to something else.
This is Ellie from The Last Of Us. She doesn’t shut up. In a game where every little sound triggers a tribe of flesh-eating monsters, which certainly makes sense. What makes less sense is that they can’t hear her, or anyone really. Except your dumbass character, naturally.
Anytime a video game attempts real-world ideas such as this, it quickly eats itself, because reality is shockingly not geared toward linear storylines being told in a coherent fashion. I relentlessly mock a few of the worst offenders in my latest Cracked Column. Enjoy, or fail at life.
A shockingly low amount of people take part in bug-eating challenges. Doing so proves you’re original, you’re a trendsetter, and that you love yecching out everyone around you.
What other eating challenges secretly say things about your personality? Find out as I put my expensive psychology degree to good use in my latest Tailgate Fan piece. After all, you wouldn’t want to shovel shit down your throat if it wasn’t truly YOU.
Could an eating challenge be looked at as torture? These crazy feats of eating sure could.
These are ghost chilies. A woman ate 51 of them, rubbed a bunch of them in her eyes, and then got mad because she can usually eat 60+. For her, that’s impressive. For anyone else, it’d be cruel and unusual punishment. “For your crimes against humanity, you must eat one of the hottest peppers on earth and then rub a bunch of them on your eyeballs!”
That’s not the only eating challenge that would qualify as pure torture. I found a bunch more and yakked about them over at Tailgate Fan. Luckily for you, reading my words is not a form of torture. At least, I hope it’s not.
Dear Shaun Munro: Please Stop Stealing From the Cracked Workshop
So this guy’s a thief, a hack, and a disgrace to writing. Anyone who wishes to reblog this, tell this loser off, and boycott his shitty website (Whatculture), until they start coming up with their own ideas, be my guest.
As proudly stated in his Twitter bio, Shaun is the Associate Editor of WhatCulture.com and a Tomatometer critic at Rotten Tomatoes. This is an article by Shaun Munro, posted at WhatCulture on July 1:
And this is an article under the same premise pitched by two members of the Cracked Comedy Workshop exactly one week earlier:
Shaun’s article has six entries in common with the Cracked pitch… but, y’know, so what? Websites steal full articles from Cracked.com all the time. There are entire Wordpress sites with dozens of subscribers that do nothing but repost Cracked lists as soon as they’re posted. Well, the difference here is that the articles Shaun is shamelessly copying haven’t been posted — he’s going into the Cracked Workshop (which is for registered members only) and swiping articles before they get a chance to go up on the site, making the original writer look like the plagiarist and thus putting their livelihood at risk. This has been called to Shaun’s attention, and he’s still doing it.
If caring for your pet is the lowlight of your day, the good people at Heartless Money-Sucking Corporations, Inc., have the products for you.
Have you ever bought the Pootrap (literally a bag for your dog to shit in while walking around)? If so, kindly give your dog up to the nearest loving family who will actually pay attention to the dog and not stick a fucking bag over its butt.
There are a shocking amount of pet products designed to not only humiliate your pet, but to remind them that you don’t actually care about them and consider them a burden. I call them out on Cracked, because it was the right thing to do.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to strap a bag to my cat’s ass, just to see if I survive.
Well hi Shel Silverstein! I hear you wrote a sequel to your hit song “Boy Named Sue.” And Sue’s gay in this one? And his Dad sleeps with him? Get help, Shel Siverstein.
Still, I can’t complain TOO much, since that oddball song prompted my latest Cracked Column, all about sequels to hit songs that ruined the original, simply by existing. Although if you’re one of the guys from Deliverance, you probably think Silverstein’s sequel was an improvement on his original. To each their own, I guess.
This is James Van Praagh, one of those cold-reading psychics who will ask you things like “did your dead mother ever have trouble breathing?” and then pretend to communicate with said dead mom in order to let you know they’re happy being dead, like everyone else. He tried this shtick on unedited TV and got exposed to the world.
I wrote about him, along with a bunch of other blatant soothsaying frauds, in an ever-so-lovely Cracked article, co-written with the ever-so-Canadian Mark Hill. It’s the final Article I wrote before getting the Columnist promotion, so from here on out it should be all me me me me me. Just like Jesus intended.
It’s fantasy football season. Here’s how to throw a draft party in the Internet Age.
And today, I grace Tailgate Fan with my yamblings! Wanna throw a fantasy football party, but can’t because your entire league is online? Luckily, I have a few incredibly serious solutions that every last one of you should try at least once. Would I lie?
The bands I grew up listening to would never do any of this Disney Channel bullshit, right? (Hint: Wrong.)
My newest from Cracked, but this time it’s different. I’ve been promoted to Cracked Columnist, which means it’s my voice, and not just the Cracked Voice. I’m trusted to be funny on my own, for an audience of hundreds of thousands, possibly millions.
And I take advantage of this by pointing out how cool-ass “real” rock stars, the ones that define balls and artistic expressiona nd all that jazz, actually do the exact same shit that all those youngun’s did on MTV recently. Does that mean that Ozzy will be twerking in a week? God, we can only hope so.
Instead of adding to the endless sea of Call Of Duty clones that we get every other week, maybe some more interesting ideas could get another chance to thrive. Such as …
So Christopher Columbus had a game where he battled prehistoric creatures and sea monsters. And it got cancelled because original ideas are for weenies. This game, plus a bunch of others, deserve an actual run on the shelves, so sayeth me.
One of the great things about the Internet is how everybody gets a voice. It’s also one of the worst things about the Internet, especially when the voice is loud and obnoxious and, worst of all, misleading.
I got me a new article, which is kinda rare these days. So much of what i do now is behind-the-scenes and/or unpublished: TopTenz editing, Cracked editing, In-House writing for Distractify, The Geekout disappearing without publishing my last article there, a buncha Man Cave Daily stuff scheduled for later this summer, me auditioning for this cool job and that one, and so on and so forth.
But now here we are, with a new article, on a new website! Via Oh, Pish Posh (yep, that’s their name), here’s a piece about stuff the Internet loves to bits, but Real Life people pretty much ignores.
And no, George Bush is not one of them. That’s just the picture Tumblr chose. Troll Tumblr.
Tons of cartoons are ripe for an Invasion Of The Bodyslammers. All Vince needs is a semi-plausible angle to explain why they’re there.
So the WWE is doing a crossover movie with The Flintstones, as an alternative to making their wrestling show more interesting. Well, if this is what they wanna do, they might as well go all out and cross over with everything. I offer eight possibilities to get the nightmare ball rolling.
Despite it’s endless humor and characters galore, nobody ever made a Freakazoid game. Why, because they were afraid they’d just mess it up and gamers everywhere would be depressed? That never stopped them before!
Actually, there are a lot of franchises that shockingly never got the “puke-inducing videogame” treatment. I covered a bunch of crap from the ’80s before, and now it’s the ’90s turn. Whether I cover every decade from the 20th century or not is all dependent on how willing Topless Robot is to not shoot me in the face for milking this idea.
“Let’s face it; baseball isn’t the first sport you think of when planning your next tailgating adventure. How can anyone get worked up over a 162-game season for which everybody’s so damn laid back? A bunch of guys standing on a freshly mowed lawn, successfully hitting a ball with a stick 30% of the time if they’re good at it, does not exactly inspire one to fire up the grill and excitedly holler at nothing in particular.
Until now, that is! We sat down and racked our collective hive mind for well over 10 minutes, and have devised five foolproof ways to make baseball more tailgate-friendly.”