Blue Sky: The Essence of Terrible

Introduction: A Brief Explanation Regarding Hippie Food Stores

There is a craze sweeping the nation, and this craze is extremely similar to earwigs, in that it is also tunneling through people’s ear canals and eating their brains. The craze is hippie food stores, stores which sell food specifically designed to cater to hippies.

If it were just hippies buying this ridiculous food, there would be no problem. But normal people also buy this food, especially yuppies and the mentally disabled*. Now, this doesn’t really make any sense. One would think that marijuana-deadened hippies would not be the ones you’d want to buy your food from, considering that they were willing to eat ketchup-and-mayonnaise sandwiches back in the sixties. These are people that would be willing to put used cigarette butts on toast and eat the resulting tobacco sandwich if they couldn’t find anything else to eat when they started having their marijuana-induced munchies.

*People that voluntarily eat tofu.

But no. Thousands upon thousands of mentally-challenged yuppies, all over these United States of America, are willing to spend their hard-earned dollars on food chosen by dirty hippies. Naturally (excuse the pun) all of this food is exactly what you would expect it to be. Here’s a rough estimate of what kind of food is stocked at hippie food stores:

  • Food that tastes like shit: 123.5%

As you can see, by my estimates approximately all of the food at hippie food stores tastes like shit. The extra 23.5% is because the food at these stores is so bad that it actually makes food from other stores taste like shit.

Let’s say you buy some food from Albertson’s one day. Very preservative-laden, fatty, and abhorrently unfriendly to the environment. Basically some real good food.


This is Celestial Raven, owner of Happy Apple Farmer's Market. She would be happy to serve you.

Well, let’s say the next day you buy from Happy Apple Farmer’s Market, run by Celestial Raven, who practices Wicca. She only sells hemp seeds, natural tofu, organic produce, and various spices that are to spice what Phil Collins is to music. She doesn’t want you shopping at Albertson’s. She wants you shopping at Happy Apple Farmer’s Market. So she uses her bizarre Wiccan powers to put a spell on every piece of food she sells. She makes the spell so that it transfers its bland, boring taste to everything around it. She makes sure of this. She is afraid that if only her food tastes like bland nutritious garbage, you’ll stop buying her food.

So if you put Albertson’s food next to food from Happy Apple Farmer’s Market, the latter will make the former taste like salted cardboard. And it’ll cost more, too, due to the spell waves emanating from the food from Happy Apple Farmer’s Market. It’s a very strong Wiccan spell.

Sunflower Market

Hippie food stores take different forms all over the United States. For example, here in Albuquerque they have the “Sunflower Farmer’s Market”, and their slogan is “Serious food, silly prices”.

If by "serious" you mean "shitty", and by "silly" you mean "ludicrously high".

I have tried the “organic” food in Sunflower Market, and I can vouch for the fact that it is some of the most serious food I’ve ever tasted. After all, there is nothing fun about eating it at all.

Sunflower Market pretends to be a cutesy-poo little flower of a food store by adding cute little fonts to everything. Everything has its own font, and a piece of clipart. You go to the produce section, there is a produce font. You get meat, there is a meat font. You want olives, there is an olive font.

If you go to Smith’s, you get food. If you go to Sunflower Market, you get clipart and fonts.

These stores are concentrated around New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, Colorado, Utah, and Nevada, and their central theme is that they try way too hard to be “home-grown, good ol’ nat’ral food” stores. One would think this would mean most of the food would come from near the store (in this case Albuquerque, New Mexico), but no, I go there and most of the food comes from Mexico or California. Most of the food from New Mexico is salsa, on a little shelf off to the corner marked “FOOD GROWN IN NEW MEXICO!”. Thank God. I would not trust Californians to make salsa for me if they were the last Western peoples on earth. They’d probably add habanero peppers and hemp seeds. And then they’d restrict its right to marry the same sex by constitutional amendment.

Blue Sky Soda: The Drink Hippies Like

One of the many products in Sunflower Market that comes from Satan’s asshole California is Blue Sky soda.** I tried their “Organic” root beer, which they call “Root Beer Encore”. It is the most terrible root beer I have ever tasted. It is worse than Barq’s Root Beer, it is worse than drinking Gatorade, it is worse than drinking rhinoceros piss. If you like Blue Sky soda (God help you) I can only assume that your taste buds are burnt off, probably by the habanero peppers you eat in California. Because it is terrible. God is it ever terrible.

**It says “Santa Fe, New Mexico” on the front, but it’s actually made in Corona, California at this point. It actually got sued over this.

Let me write it out in large bold red letters for you:


It would be flashing, but I can’t use CSS until I finally find a half-decent webhost. Close enough.

The kind I got was “USDA certified organic”, and had “real cane sugar.” Judging from just the taste of the drinks I’ve yet tasted with actual sugar in them, I would guess that sugarcane is the most disgusting substance on planet Earth, followed closely by high-fructose corn syrup. I mean, seriously, Mexico gets Coca Cola with real sugar, while the closest we can get is Blue Sky “Organic”?

When the version of a soda with sugar in it is more disgusting than the version with high fructose corn syrup, SOMETHING IS WRONG.

Is this some kind of conspiracy or something? Do I have to invade Europe to get some actual sugar in my system without subjecting myself to this disgustingly fruity and tasteless crap?

I guess so. Let’s get some AK-47s from the army surplus store, looks like it’s time to invade Germany again. And possibly Poland. Hey, it might not be nice, but we’d might as well invade Poland. It’s not like the Poles could stop us.

I guess that big American corporations think sugarcane-sweetened carbonated beverages are the kinds of drinks that hippies like. The real sugar must go along well with Doors albums and Volkswagen buses. Good to know.

The Truth About Hippie Food Stores, And Who is Responsible (Aging Baby Boomers)

Like hippies, all of the kinds of foods they sell at “farmer’s markets” are flavorless, bland, and annoying. This food tries to make people feel like they’re making a difference by eating food grown and prepared without preservatives or growth hormones, but all it really does is allow lazy and brainless tools to go through life without doing anything productive or beneficial to the human race.

Frankly, I blame the Baby Boomers. Baby Boomers are just as flavorless, bland and annoying as hippies, and they are equally obsessed with achieving some kind of unobtainable enviro-green future where we all drive recycled hybrid cars and fart oxygen and pixie dust out our asses. Bullshit, I say. Give me a camper trailer. Fuck Toyota Priuses, I want to see the forest, not imprison myself to living in some paved-road shithole subdivision where the people are all pasty-white middle-class zombies and everybody drives environmentally-friendly cars in some kind of surreal dystopia.




I think people who go to these stores think a little too much of themselves, don’t you? I mean, maybe I’m just a moron. Maybe I just can’t appreciate the subtle classiness of buying your Keystone “Light” beer for an extra five dollars at the local “farmer’s market” and buying only foodstuffs that have the words “Natural” and “Organic” emblazoned right on the box in Comic Sans MS font .

But let’s look at the facts. First off, how in the hell is a store like this a “farmer’s market”, anyway? I don’t see any farmers when I go there. Some may have a garden or a couple horses, but I don’t see any farmers peddling their wares anywhere. Hell, I wish they had farmers at the “farmer’s market”. I could buy food from them directly, rather than through a faceless corporation that puts mooing cows on its homepage in a misplaced attempt to appear rustic and homely.

Because let’s face it: These hippie food stores are just big corporate monoliths, and are just like any other supermarket chain. The only difference between a hippie food store and a regular supermarket is that a hippie food store sells organic food at higher prices. Also its board of directors regularly participates in a drum circle. Their conference table may also be shaped like the peace sign.

And while some people may look at all of the peons down below them in the social hierarchy and think how intelligent and classy they are for buying only grain-fed hormone-free free-range naturally-raised humanely-killed organic home-grown all-American wave-the-flag-around-awhile-while-we-roast-this-dead-cow ground beef, we gotta remember that most people don’t buy their food from Albertson’s or Wal-Mart because they want to, it’s because they can’t afford better.

Y’know, I’m not saying Wal-Mart is great. Hey, it’s gigantic and an eyesore and it doesn’t really have every buyable product known to man. Some of its products aren’t great. Sometimes it doesn’t even have the lowest prices.

So we agree: Wal-Mart’s not perfect. But at least it’s honest.

This is a Neda Soltan. She Prints Money.

In case you haven’t lost all faith in humanity yet, here’s yet another step in the gradual collapse of Western civilization.

That’s right. Somebody has already made an Obama ripoff T-shirt showing the bloodied dead corpse of Iranian protester Neda Soltan with the phrase “WE WILL NEVER FORGET”.

In a matter of, oh, around twelve hours or so since Neda Soltan was brutally murdered by pro-government Iranian forces some asshole has already trivialized her death in a bid to make some cash off of the kind of person that gets off on having a picture of a dead and bloodied Iranian girl on his shirt.

Y’know, exploitation and stuff.

I can only imagine the way Neda Soltan would feel about this if she were alive. Because I’ll bet a young woman like her would really want to be remembered lying dead on an Iranian street in throngs of helpless protesters, rather than as a vibrant, beautiful young woman with a life ahead of her.

I mean, is it so much to ask for T-shirt makers to at least use one of the pictures of her before she was brutally shot to death?

Notice how they subtly crossed out her name with blood. Great job, random brainless shirt-selling douche!

I have no more words for this. I hope that Ms. Soltan rests in peace, I hope the situation in Iran is peacefully and rightfully resolved, and I hope whoever made these T-shirts gets a swift kick in the ass for using Neda Soltan’s memory for profit.

Jeep People Are Disgusting.

Today I’m going to give you a stupid quiz. It’s a quiz to see how stupid you are. Ready? Here goes.

(Scroll down for the correct answer.)

If you chose “e”, my friend, you are not just stupid, but legally retarded. Seriously. Just today the American Psychiatric Association just listed “Jeep ownership” as one of the signs of mental retardation.

Jeeps are some of the worst vehicles on the road, and their hardcore fanboys are some of the rudest, most arrogant assholes on the face of planet Earth.

If Hitler were alive today, he’d be a Jeep fan. Much like Nazis, Jeep fans practice a sort of automotive anti-Semitism, shunning all vehicles that are not body-on-frame pickup trucks or gas-sucking SUV atrocities.

Many grown men today, that appear so deeply masculine in their Wranglers, are trundling down the Rubicon bearing cojones that just barely stay put on their crotches, because their hard-riding SUVs are causing them to bounce off. But nevermind that. Frankly, I don’t really want to think about men’s crotches right now, so let’s move on.

Some of you may have owned one or two Cherokees, or maybe (God help you) Libertys, and you’re thinking to yourself, “Hey, you jackass, we love our Jeeps! They got us up to the mountains and they only broke down every twenty-three miles! All our friends said they were beautiful Jeeps!”

But that’s just it, isn’t it? I mean, it isn’t like the Jeep Cherokee is the preferred choice of hardcore Jeep fanboys. Jeep Cherokees, in the eyes of hardcore Jeep fanboys, are for women and effeminate men. Jeep Cherokees are named for the Indians we slaughtered, that’s the way the fanboys look at it. We slaughtered dem Injuns. Just like we’ll slaughter yer Cherokee with our Wrangler! Look at us, we’re so cool! LOLOLOLO

I dont know this person in any way, but shes clearly horrible. Because she drives a Jeep.

I don't know this person in any way, but she's clearly horrible. Because she drives a Jeep.

That’s a Jeep fanboy for you. Making fun of you and your Cherokee. Your sexy gorgeous Cherokee that all your neighbors envied. They’re making fun of you for a reason: They want you to buy a Wrangler like theirs out of shame. They want to indoctrinate you, to extend their Jeep fanboy slime trails until they envelop you in Jeep slime, made of leaking oil and old transmission fluid. Jeep fanboys will get their slime all over you if you let them. They’ll slime all over your mouth, too. They’re completely repulsive like that.

Their vehicles–all of them Jeep Wranglers–are terrible. Horrible ride, horrible reliability, horrible gas mileage and horrible to drive–and all for what? Off-road capability.

That’s right: Jeep people are willing to give up driving a good car so that they can take 4000 pound hunks of metal across rock trails, crushing small woodland creatures that are unfortunate enough to fall under one of their Jeeps’ gigantic tires, killing us all with their carbon dioxide emissions just so they can get to a fishing spot I want to get to but can’t because I drive a car.

Jeep people think they’re high and mighty just because they could snag a few more rainbow trout than I can when they go fishing, or uncover the secret Dulce military base where the US government houses aliens, or drive up the Himalayas while sherpas scream at them in some Asian language I’ve never heard of, assuming that most Jeep people ever took their Jeeps off the highway. Well you know what, Jeep people? You can just poop on my butt.

Be aware also that there are many false prophets and guides operating in your world. They will suck your energy from you - the energy you call money and will put it to evil ends and give you worthless dross in return. In other words, Jeep people want to take you money and spend it on more worthless Jeeps.

"Be aware also that there are many false prophets and guides operating in your world. They will suck your energy from you - the energy you call money and will put it to evil ends and give you worthless dross in return." In other words, Jeep people want to take you money and spend it on more worthless Jeeps.

Everybody hates you and your Jeep slime trails and your bouncy  testicles and the knowledge of the Universe you got from Vrillon of the Ashtar Galactic Command, Dulce Military Base Inmate #5472-A.

We hate all of it. We don’t want to know the Unified Field Theory of Physics, we want you to drive a boring-ass car like the rest of us. Just do it already, you jerkmongers! Do we have to glare at you angrily from our Prii for you to realize that your desire to have class-leading off-road capability is not only disgusting, but also obscene? This is the 21st Century! Who still lives on dirt roads anyway? Africans, that’s who. And they can run so fast that they don’t even need Jeeps, they can just vault over rocks like they do at the Olympics.

In the end, Jeep people, I don’t hate you. I hate all of the fantastic things you get to do in your slimy Jeep vehicles. It’s not fair and I think you should support our nation and stop buying the vehicle that saved America from Hitler. Times are different now. So join us, the car people! Join us that we may share in the Great Awakening, as our planet passes into the Age of Aquarius! Otherwise we’ll be lonely. And so will poor Vrillon.

Kim Jong-un: Nuclear Son

Ever wonder who’s going to obliterate planet Earth with nuclear hailfire?

North Korea has named Kim Jong-un the successor to Kim Jong-il. Which means that whenever the world ends as planned in 2012, Kim Jong-un will be the one to blame for destroying the planet Earth.

Technically, he has not taken power yet as far as I can tell, but with Il having had a stroke, I think it’s pretty damn obvious that he will be in power pretty soon.

This is not the time for petty details, like how North Korea has only one or two nukes at most, and would assuredly be destroyed by the fallout that would occur from their detonation. Oh yeah, and if it ever did launch one everybody dies, because then America would launch theirs, Europe following, and… you get the idea. Meh. Silly details. Rest easy planet Earth! We now know who will destroy you!

(Source: The Something Awful forums, BBC World)

Car Post for May Number One: Nissan Frontier. Four Cylinder Engine. Discuss.

Note: This post is unfunny. I am actually making a point. See the May 4 post for attempts at humor.

The purpose of a compact truck, to my understanding, is for better fuel efficiency through smaller size, and/or off-road capability.

The Nissan Frontier answers the off-road capability question with a Pro 4X package which gives it good off-road capability.

With the second one, its four-cylinder work truck model has the smallest and least-efficient engine in its class. It struggles out 21 mpg with only 152 horsepower with manual transmission, versus 22 mpg and 159 horsepower for the Toyota Tacoma, and 143 horsepower and 23 mpg with the Ford Ranger. Properly equipped, a Chevy Colorado gets only 20 mpg–but does so with 190 horsepower, a 38-horsepower spread between the ‘Rado and the Fronty. To put that in perspective, the difference between the power of the base Frontier engine and the Chevrolet Colorado’s is one-horsepower more than the horsepower rating of the original 1959 Datsun pickup.

The Frontier’s weight is partly to blame; it’s the heaviest compact truck you can buy, but that makes it even weirder that its base engine is so weak. I mean, seriously, when are they going to offer a better base engine for this truck? Add a turbocharger, increase cylinder bore, anything.  People are complaining about having to whip the snot out of the Frontier four to get any power, killing mileage in the process. This truck’s engine is literally so small that it reduces overall fuel economy.

Finally, I’d like to point out that when the Ford F-150 debuts its Ecoboost V-6 engine, it’ll get around 19-20 mpg with an automatic–with over 400 horsepower. Currently, the four-cylinder Frontier struggles out 19 mpg–at best–with automatic.

So what’s the point of the Nissan Frontier, again? To me, it’s like the Dodge Dakota as it is–bad mileage, too heavy, and at least one engine that’s too weak. What should Nissan do with this truck? Leave answers below.

Nintendo Death Watch I

My name is Roberto Fargo. You may remember me from such acclaimed websites as What’s Right About Cars (WRAC), where we’ve been discussing the impending demise of General Motors and Chrysler for years, in our  Detroit Death Watch series. We started the series because we knew that we were important people with an important role in the advancement of the human race, and that only we could use our flowery prose to tell people that their cars sucked. It was obvious to us at the site’s inception that our site was different. We needed to discuss the truth about cars. And by God, we did. Our site’s raison d’etre hasn’t changed at all since those halcyon years. Like Alf to cats we have always determinedly fought the good fight to bring you, our esteemed readership, the latest about cars. What makes them tick. How they work. Why the Jeep Compass sucks.

But now, with GM and Chryslerberus in their final death throes, Maximum Bob put out to pasture, and Wagoner finally flown the proverbial Little Douce Coupe, it’s time that we moved on to a different subject. Here on LoopyLines I’ve decided to put my best foot forward on the pilot project for a new site which we feel will just as doggedly pursue the truth in another subject: Video games. This is the first post to what we hope will be The Untruth About Video Games. And, of course, the Untruth About Nintendo.

When Master Chief calls in the Elites to try to determine which one to murder with his spiking gun, I’m always hoping for a miracle. I want him to kill ALL of them. My feelings about Nintendo are identical. When Shigeru Miyamoto said that he’d give the Star Fox franchise to Rare if the games didn’t “go into hyperspace,” he started a debate over which of Nintendo’s lackluster gaming franchises deserved death. The answer is, of course, all of them.

Nintendo was born as a conglomeration of various shitty video game characters that nobody cared about. In the beginning, though, they all kept their basic character sprite designs and various box art designs. In spite of the fact that Nintendo kept control of all the characters, each remained true to whatever stupid gamer fanbase it had. When this structure fell apart, or became one big shitty-ass mess of crappy products and stupid games, is not as important as the fact that it has.

Nintendo’s eleven brands–Sonic the Hedgehog, Star Fox, Super Mario, Donkey Kong, various shitty third-party companies, the original Megaman, Megaman X, Zelda, Conker and Banjo-Kazooie, Krystal the Furfag Dream, and Wii Shit–are virtually interchangeable. You could remake a Mario Kart and call it a Wii Kart; or a Star Fox Adventures and call it Megaman Goes Into Space; or a Sonic Adventure II: Battle and call it Conker Turns Blue and Goes On Boring Adventures with Obnoxious Little Furry Friends. And that’s without mentioning the elephant in the programming room: Character sprite sharing.

Nintendo’s brands bring new meaning to the words “gaming overlap.” Red Steel or Super Smash Brothers Brawl? Madden or Super Mario Spikers? Need For Speed: Hot Pursuit or Mario Kart Wii? These franchises might have better luck competing with non-Nintendo brands if they weren’t so busy competing against each other. As a result, whenever one of the eleven non-identical twins tries to make a case for itself as not being another faggy Nintendo product only retarded children would play, it unintentionally demeans a fraternal partner. Mario’s claim to be “a plumber” makes Star Fox seem like a careless flyboy. Sonic the Hedgehog’s “run really fucking fast” makes Megaman seem slow. And so on.

The franchise directors may beg to differ, but their hardcore fans don’t. Star Fox still touts itself as Nintendo’s furry-fanservice division–at the same time that Sonic fans like Sonichu keep on churning out more porno of Sonic-Tails yaoi slash fanfiction. And here’s a compare-and-contrast from Hell: Mario’s jumping ability versus Luigi’s.

The situation reminds me of the Lego company’s plight in the 90’s and into the 2000’s. When the competition started offering shitty knockoffs of Lego products, Lego responded by offering new themes: Bionicle, Time Travel, Spyrius, Monorail, Electric Train, Star Wars, and Bob the Builder. The bottom line? Lego kept on sucking. All these new brands and… Lego KEPT ON KEEPING its market share. Well, OK, so video games like Nintendo and Playstation were still taking away its toy market share, but in terms of making small plastic bricks with knobs on top, Lego was still first. Am I the only one who sees a parallel with Nintendo, which is responding to its diminishing slice of the US video game market by introducing new characters and a Gamecube with a remote control and a joystick attached?

Shigeru Miyamoto could kill off a couple of these franchises, figure out what the fuck to do with the rest, make some bonsai trees and–like Hell he could. Thanks to being a big egocentric asshole, constantly having to appease stupid kids and being obsessed with middle-aged plumbers who attempt to get into the dresses of ambiguously lesbian Princesses, Nintendo has neither the will nor the reason to kill off the horrible cancer that continues to eat its brains and rip its limbs off one by one. There’s only one thing to do now: Sell all its characters to the video game orphanage, Sony Playstation.

Earthbound is the only solidly profitable part of the whole corporation, and they haven’t made a new one of that in like fourteen years; everything else is being stuck with shitty, boring games that no sane human being would ever be caught dead playing. Dump the Mario Brothers, the furry shit, the racing games, the remaining first-person shooters, and Nintendo becomes instantly more profitable than before, although it might lose its position at number one in console sales, but that doesn’t matter. What’s more, under Playstation, each franchise would be leaner, meaner, and quicker on its feet, thanks to such meaningful and important features as Blu-Ray, a device that marginally improves graphics quality at only a 240% increase in console price and a 38% increase in game price. Think about the breakup of Atari, and everything it spawned, such as Lynx.

Even if a liberated franchise’s new ownership WAS completely shitfaced and retarded, even if, say, Electronic Arts bought up, say, Sonic, and ran it into the ground at the speed of sound, well, who gives a shit? I’d say, “nobody likes Sonic, except for children and autistic furfags.” And dammit, I’d be right.

The idea of being wrenched from Nintendo’s corporate teats is not bound to make Nintendo’s franchisees happy, especially Donkey Kong, who would likely throw barrels at passersby in a disgruntled fashion until tranquilized. But most sensible financial analysts would view Nintendo’s dissolution as a necessary Hiroshima: A violent explosion set off to anger Japan and force them to surrender to the United States again.

Of course, those same analysts don’t buy Playstation IIIs or Microsoft X-Box 360s anymore. They buy Wiis, because they want to get thin playing that goddamned Wii Fit. If these so-called “experts” want to feel the Trinity Site explosion again, all they have to do is drive down to White Sands, New Mexico and set off an atomic bomb. Even Master Chief himself would savor the irony.

How to Use Facebook

Virtual networking programs like Facebook and Myspace have swept America by connecting people who should never have been allowed to connect in any meaningful way. Frankly, most Facebook and Myspace users should never have been let out of the tiny cocoon-like enclaves they inhabit, shunning the rest of the world like timid butterflies and coming out only for an anime-catgirl shaped lightbulb or copious amounts of Mountain Dew, but that is not my point. My point is that these systems are taking America by storm, by letting people from seperate cities, countries, or even planets communicate with one another in a way that could almost be mistaken for human interaction, such as via poking one another electronically. Of course, allowing unwanted human interaction is only one of many services Myspace and Facebook provide. There are infinite tasks you can perform effortlessly with the touch of a button on both systems, including:

  • Instant messaging
  • Being able to post nude photographs of yourself for all your friends to see (a feature only available on Myspace to my knowledge, unfortunately)
  • Posting poorly-drawn furry pornography that nobody wants to see
  • Having a special “birthday reminder” tool, so that you don’t forget your friends’ birthdays and end up having a birthday cake slammed into your CD-ROM drive.

Yet many people don’t fully understand how to use these features. Only those that spend their every waking hour poring endlessly over a sterile notebook or desktop computer screen, or those who are liberal arts or physical education majors, truly understand the power one can acquire through a system like Myspace or Facebook. Thankfully for you, I’m here to help. I’m a veteran of Myspace and Facebook, having more than fifty friends per system in spite of being a common variant of Mexican gray wolf, and I know the Internet like the back of my hand, because I have no life and no semblance of social relationships.

Without further ado:

1. When on Facebook, make sure to name all of your picture folders with names like “Summer of Madness”. That way, everybody will know that your summer was in fact PURE AWESOME MADNESS, in that you did that one thing where you had fun coming up with unique uses for one of your friends’ bras (hopefully a female friend) and were not beaten to death by a security guard after getting drunk and attempting to mate with the ostrich statues at the miniature golf course.

2. Whereas Myspace will never actually update any of its aging design, Facebook will redesign everything every other week. If you are on Facebook, rest assured that you will never fully understand any of the features that are at your disposal, because you will be spending at least 50% of your time attempting to find where Facebook has decided to put all the toolbars and images this week:

3. Also, on Facebook you will never be able to customize the look of your page. If you get a WordPress blog you can give it one of 73 different styles, of which I have used one, “Digg 3-Column”, for quite awhile now. On Myspace you can use whatever the hell style you want, of which most choose styles such as the ever-popular “Retarded 16-year-old Girl” style, or “Latently Homosexual 18-year-old Emo Raver Boi” style.

On Facebook, though, there is no “style.” You are given the style Facebook has, known as the “Blank white page with a blue bar on top and random shit everywhere” style. This style is inherently unpopular. Of the several billion friend updates I have on Facebook, currently 119% involve somebody telling me to vote “I don’t like it” on the Facebook layout. I will, as soon as I’m done reading through the latest Terms of Service the Antichrist has put together for Facebook’s crack legal team.

That reminds me:

4. On Facebook, any rights you once had will be null and void after you open an account. Technically, according to Facebook’s new terms of service slavery is not explicitly illegal. The federal government could literally sell you and your children to a slaveowner, forcing you into a lifetime of menial servitude, until you finally utter your last gasping breath. If you’re lucky, they might give forty acres and a mule to your children, and even then you will be yelled at by Republicans who will scream at you to act just like white people or else and shut up while America continually steals pieces of your culture, bit by bit, until finally you have nothing left to give. That’s Facebook for you.

Oh wait. Wait, I’m sorry, I’m thinking of the Emancipation Proclamation. My mistake. What Facebook will do is steal everything you’ll ever put up and make sure you never see any rights to it ever again. If you ever speak up, they’ll unleash their crack Legal Team, comprised of three wolverines, a dozen land piranhas, and twenty King Cobra snakes, and have them eat you, and if possible extract what precious minerals they can find in your body.

I hear the average person contains $25.00 worth of precious minerals. That may not sound like much, but considering that there are 175 million Facebook users, and more than 850 million photos are uploaded to the site each month, that’s more than $4 billion they could get just via extracting your precious minerals. If they forced you to give them your kidneys? They could take over the world. Think about that next time you’re putting photos up under Facebook’s terms of service. The legal team’s getting hungry. Especially the cobra.