Perfect Combinations For Better Reputations

Beards and Flannel

2010-10-18T20:39:00.000-07:00

In this modern high-paced world women are now considered equals to men. There is nothing a man can do that a woman can’t.

Oh shit, I’m sorry. I was watching Dexter’s Lab and I didn't know what I was saying. What I meant to say is that women are inferior - not equal - to men. Women can't drive, piss standing without getting urine all over themselves, drive, not bleed from their genitals for 4 days in a row every month, drive, fix things, drive, “bring home the bacon”, drive, throw a ball, drive, and most importantly, drive...just to name a few. As much as I would love to go on about how women and cars are an awful combination, this blog is about perfect combinations, and I, Soup-Kitchen Sanders, have sworn to seek out and report on such combinations.

Today’s combination takes us on yet another ride through the realm of shit women can’t do. Have you ever seen a woman wearing flannel (shirt, that is)? Of course you have. Have you ever seen a woman with a beard wearing flannel? Fuck no, and don’t let Raptor tell you otherwise. He was drunk and the bulge in that bitch’s pants was evident. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, beards and flannels are a combination that will make Miley Cyrus want to move her hips “like yeah”. Some assholes may argue that flannels aren't that great. I tell those assholes to go chew on some diabetic porcupines. The key here is, of course, the combination. Beards are already manly enough, but toss in a flannel, and your peeper will become an indestructible rod of justice and pleasure (to vaginas). This combination brings a man to a whole new level of man. A “beard and flannel man” is a man that can go outside in the middle of an Alaskan blizzard wearing nothing but his beard and his flannel (and maybe some boots but these are just for show) to build a shelter out of nothing more than a polar bear’s hide and bones - which he killed by mounting a grizzly bear, tearing off its head, and entering its body to use it as an ultimate polar bear-destroying-super-suit - that he didn't need in order to kill the polar beast and only wore to impress a foxy lady who’s into that kinky bear stuff.

The flannel of a “beard and flannel” man is always covered in assorted scents that do nothing but please the individual smelling them. A mixture of smoke, beef jerky, pine needles, freshly chopped wood, and a small hint of body odor cover the flannel in a layer that protect the bearded man wearing it from any harm, such as bullets and fags. The beard is covered in a sweetly intoxicating combination of varied alcoholic beverages. Some say that if one squeezed such a beard, perfectly delicious moonshine would pour from it with any and all impurities filtered out by the beard itself. This is only a myth, however, since not one person has ever come close enough to the beard of a flannel wearer to attempt such an act.

Now, my homeboy Ryan Mackay brings up a fantastic point: there ARE some fucked up bearded women out there. Does the righteousness of the beard/flannel combo apply to them as well? What I said to my homeboy Ryan Mackay was that these women are called “Bull-Dykes” and are among a rare breed of vagina-d super humans that almost, but not quite, parallel the raw power of a bearded, flanneled, man. This is the closest any woman will ever come to knowing what it’s like to be manly. Documented cases even exist of bearded women driving while wearing flannel. At first glance this might not be surprising, since almost all women drive, they just happen to suck at it. What is surprising, though, is that these particular flanneled freaks drive well.

Whats that Joey Skinner? You still don't believe that beards and flannels are a perfect combination? Consider this, your junk keeps the lower half of your body warm (don't believe me? Ask Fuzzy Randy how he keeps his house warm), a flannel can keep your torso warm, and a beard will keep your face warm. Besides, the beard/flannel combo is about as rough'n'tumble as it gets; no one ever worries about getting his beard or flannel dirty. Oh no did you get wood shavings all over your flannel when you were cutting down that tree with your butter knife? Don't cry like a pussy; that shit builds character and your flannel knows it. If the flannel had a brain of its own it might feel sad and abused, but only for a split second. It would quickly look up at the beard and notice that it, too, was covered in wood shavings. The flannel knows it can be taken off and washed. The beard is there to stay. And so the flannel realizes things could be much worse and decides that if the beard can take one for the team, it can too! Likewise, the beard knows it has to set an example for the flannel. Ultimately, the beard and the flannel work together to protect and bring out the best qualities of the wearer in the most selfless act of teamwork facial hair and clothing could possibly display.

Beer and Smoked Fish vs. Wine and Cheese

2010-08-15T13:47:00.000-07:00

As Bob Dylan once said while smoking a pound of cigarettes at one time, "the times they are a-changing". Well, that's not exactly the reason why we have been so inactive here on this blog for five months, but it seems to make a bit of sense. Fuzzy Randy and I have been traveling the seven seas all this time searching for better and better combinations. We can't settle for the things that are right in front of us anymore, for everything has been reduced to boring, streamlined shit! I guess it's true that we've always done this, but this time Meduca got in our way a few times and screwed up our trip so that we couldn't write for an indefinite amount of time. But then, in the southeastern tip of Bosnia with a group of slime monks (yes, slime monks, they never explained that), we found a killer twosome of combinations that has set in motion a serious debacle between the two of us. The slime monks regaled us with the legends of these combination's origins, and we're here to share them with you, and rip our balls off in the process due to so much intense argumentation. This whole collaborative effort may be the beginning of a new theme here at Perfect Combinations for Better Reputations. Hope you enjoy.

BULLY BEGINS...

In the tumultuous Middle Ages, Randolph the Raunchy Pirate had scurvies on the lower deck of his ship. That is nothing new. Pirates getting explosions on their hoohangs. In Randolph's desperate fear (he was afraid he was on his last legs), he screamed "GIVE ME A BEER!" Randolph was never a bombastic boozer, but on this day, with his hoohang burning, he needed a nice solid stout. Jemiah Banchee, the most talked-about prostitute on the ship, heard Randolph's plea. Fortunately, she was in the kitchen (where else would she be?), so she instantly poured Randolph a delectable secret microbrew. This was a serious kegger, and Randolph scoffed it down, asking for another. She immediately went to retrieve a second one (after tending to some other business, of course). In the meantime, Randolph took notice of a gaggle of fish suffocating on the floor beside him. "Why not put them out of their misery, and turn them into my pleasure?" he thought. So he directed his scurvy blast at them and found them an instant later drowning in a disgusting miasma of internal rage.

Jemiah Banchee returned with another kegger, and Randolph promptly asked her to scrub the fishies and serve them to him on a silver platter. She did, and she smoked them in the meantime. A few minutes later, Randolph found himself with a heaping platter of smoked fish by his side and an overflowing stout. He finished both of them, and his scurvies were gone. In fact, all the scurvies on the whole ship were gone! And Jemiah Banchee was ready for action more than ever!

This ancient tale is the foundation of an everlasting kinship between two individually magical specimens of food and spirit: smoked fish and beer. Both have their own distinct palette-related charms - the moist, musky "cahhh" of smoked fish, the no-nonsense, bitter punch of ale. Together, they fuse into an utterly unique flavor. To me, there's nothing better than sitting down to a plate of fish and a mug of beer after a long day of punching Raptor's teeth out. I also feel like I'm continuing a long lineage of manhood, an unavoidably awesome stroke of "hell yeah" that begins with vikings like Randolph the Raunchy Pirate and ends with the hulking bearded men of contemporary Scandinavia. So, I propose to you, honorary Fuzzy Randy, what could possibly top this primal concoction?

FUZZY RESPONDS...

Well my good friend Bully, you really buttered my biscuit with that post. My biscuit and my balls. But another story much like the one you’ve told doesn’t just use any brand of butter for the biscuit, it uses Olivio. There was once an Italian man named Buster Bronco who was unlike most men his age. Buster was thirty-two years old but still acted like a five year old who woke up on the wrong side of the pee-covered bed. He would fart loudly in public, eat with his mouth open, say inappropriate jokes, and buy stocks in businesses that made little profit. Because he was so immature, no one really hung out with him which made his wife very lonely. Her name was Patty Pleasure and she was awarded that name after pleasuring 5 guys with just her eyes...and her vagina, which she put on them hardcore. Patty was getting her buns tied in a knot trying to put up with Buster’s nonsense. She decided to step out of her kitchen (where else would she be?) and buy a gun to shoot Buster Bronco’s guts out to the next level. It was on this trip she discovered the ultimate food combination that separates the men from the boy toys.

While on her way to the gun store, Patty Pleasure got in a car accident (typical). She crashed right in front of a wine tasting store which was also across the street from a cheese tasting store which was also right next to a whale blubber tasting store. While Patty was waiting for the tow truck to arrive she peered into these stores. She noticed that in the wine tasting store everyone seemed to have very sophisticated mannerisms. They spoke as if they have lived an honorable life, one filled with many experiences that would put chests on your hair. The sweet and acidic taste of wine that tingles in your mouth all the way down your eating hole gives you a sense of who you are and what you’ve accomplished in life. It takes years for a wine to have its superb taste just as it takes years for a person to become wise and worthy of such a drink. Then Mrs. Pleasure looked into the cheese store to see that everyone looked and dressed in very good taste. Their skin was baby soft, clothes were clean and in style, and butts were squeaky clean. It’s the creamy and salty taste of cheese that makes a man realize that he must look just as eye pleasing as the food he’s eating. Cheese has a clean and smooth appearance which makes it only a shame if the person who’s eating it doesn’t look up to par. After that she looked into the whale blubber tasting store and thought, "why the fuck is that a store?"

It was at this point Patty realized what she must do. So after she had sex with her landlord she then realized she should also feed Buster Bronco a wine and cheese treat to turn him into a mature man with something to live for. Once Bronco finished his tasty tasty treat you wouldn’t believe what happened next. He died of dick cancer. But in the fifteen seconds between Buster finishing his wine and cheese and the dick cancer he said one thing with his pinky in the air, “Why honey, I must say this was quite a delightful meal! If you didn’t perform sexual intercourse on so many lads I would perform it right now on ahhhwhooowaaablaaaa I’m dying of dick cancer awwwsloooowiiiifla I’m dead of dick cancer!” And that was the end of the new mature Buster Bronco. You see Bully, beer and smoked fish will indeed make a man out of you but it won’t make a mature man with wisdom and intelligence. Hell, without maturity we’d all be spitting on each other and laughing at Dane Cook. Imagine a world like that. Now I could go further into this but I would like to know Bully J. Johnson, do you agree that this is the better combination or do you want to start a heated argument? Because I’ll just leave you off with one more thing. I’m open for rape!

BULLY:

Ahh, Fuzzy Randy, you have opened up a serious can of worms, and by golly, for a second I believed you! But, your trickery only rests upon trickery mountain, not down here on Earth! An engaging story indeed (although I was slightly offended when you bashed the whale blubber store, for I have eaten there and enjoyed myself many a'time), but also one with several significant plot holes. My story discusses the very origins of one man's discovery of this combination, and thus, the world's first exposure to it. Yours implies that wine and cheese had already been old and boring by the time it entered Buster's mouth. Even worse, it seems to be a combo only for the rich and arrogant!

My other problem with your story is that Buster was not called upon in the depths of his soul for wine and cheese. As you can see, Randolph's inexplicable desire came from the fact that he was on his last legs, about to die and give up his legacy to the wicked demons! Buster seems to have just been supplied with it on the spot. His discovery of it was incidental! If a combination is not beckoning my soul forward with ball-grabbing intensity, I say forget it! But I digress.

Though your specific tale was, to my mind, not well argued, I can understand your decision to choose wine and cheese against beer and smoked salmon. Ever since my days sailing with Scrawny Mo and sicking creatures, I have enjoyed the occasional Pinot Grigio and Brie. However, it has never produced the kind of spiritual satisfaction of a good IPA with smoked bluefish. I'm left with a hint of urine in my mouth, and whether that's from Scrawny Mo literally peeing in my mouth moments before or from the wine and cheese itself, I don't know, but it has never pleased me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that the experience of wine and cheese consumption is great while it lasts, but irritating afterward. I'm also trying to say that I'm closed for rape!

FUZZY:

Dayum Bully J. Johnson, that argument really stomped my melons and could really make any man give up his argument. But I’m unlike any man (for one I still pee sitting down and fully nude) and I always stand by my point. I think I may not have been clear enough about some of the things I’ve said. Wine and cheese has indeed been around for a long time, probably because both of them alone are still rocking to the core. But it wasn’t the kind of shit it is now until Patty Pleasure came along and combined the two to make that delicious duo of jazz. You didn’t hear me mention any wine/cheese tasting store in that story, did you bullet breath? No, they were separate just like the disgusting whale blubber tasting store. It’s not that I hate the taste of whale blubber, it’s just personal. A whale broke my uncle's heart and raped him into dust.
Another claim you make is that “Buster was not called upon in the depths of his soul for wine and cheese.” The beer drinker in me would respond saying, “fuck you lilly licker,” but I just helped myself to a tall glass (bucket) of a nice red wine with a pound of a creamy cheese so I have a more mature response. Buster doesn’t play such an epic role as Raunchy because he really stands for a point where civilized people stepped up to a new plate. Now when I say civilized I don’t mean rich and arrogant because anyone of all shapes and penis sizes can help themselves to this treat. It’s just that most people who do help themselves to this combo usually realize that they should probably look and act more dignified. It damn well wouldn’t surprise me to see Bobby Benson picking beer and smoked fish over wine and cheese on any given day. Jesus Christ, on the other hand, would easily pick wine and cheese. Hell, that guy turned water to wine and poop into cheese.

Now the taste of the two combinations is a different story. Well, not really a different story but that always makes a good topic sentence. Both combinations make orgies in your mouth but wine and cheese’s soft, creamy, smooth, and tangy touch to the tongue makes a brotha’s mouth say, “YEAH!!!” compared to beer and smoked fish's bitter, rough, slimy, and salty touch that makes a brotha’s mouth say, “YEAH!!” See that, only two !!’s.

But I digress, as now I do realize that both combinations need each other. You have the delicate combo of wine and cheese with the bolder combo of beer and smoked fish. That itself is a perfect combination, delicate and bold, something every sexy man with pubes has. So I say we quit our bitching and just realize that both combinations are pretty much equally as good, even if that’s the pussy way of ending this post and completely contradicts what I said earlier about always standing by my point. But fuck it, we’re faggots with nothing to lose.

WHAT DO YOU THINK?!

Jean Luc Godard and Women

2010-03-03T00:05:00.000-08:00

“All you need for a movie is a gun and a girl.”

-Jean Luc Godard

I know what you’re thinking and it’s true, a gun can indeed silence a woman. But that’s murder my friend and that’s not what this quote is about. You see, this quote was created by a brilliant man named Jean Luc Godard. Now make sure when you read his name you roll your tongue and try to huck a lugie because this man is indeed a Francais. (That’s French for French weasel teeth.) Jean Luc Godard is a famous French director who was one of the pioneers of the French New Wave.

“I thought France’s old waves were big enough already.”

Shut the fuck up Raptor that’s not even a funny joke! And stop saying stuff during my posts. I don’t even know why I don’t delete this before publishing.

The French New Wave was when a couple young, French ass filmmakers decided to disobey the system and make films that rejected the classical cinematic form. For example, say there’s a typical movie about Billy James chewing mud. BORING! These French boyz would’ve taken that Billy James chewing mud and change it to him chewing mud with a cigarette and saying poetic shit. That totally puts the system in its place. Now I’m probably shoving tons of info up your nostril bums right now but just remember that Jean Luc Godard’s films were unlike most Hollywood squat. They consisted of thought-provoking dialogue, political ideologies, and characters who you would find interesting even when they’re clothed. This is the kind of stuff you can only find in Steven Seagal’s Half Past Dead. But what fascinates me most about Luc Luc is how he has changed the woman that we all know and dread to a woman who we would gladly shave our peepees for. This croissant sniffing genius has created the IDEAL woman.

It might come to a surprise but I am quite the expert in the female gender. Some say I know the female psych a little too well, which is probably why they stopped talking to me. After years of womanly research on google images, I’ve discovered the many problems with these milk infested honkies. Women today have too many lame feelings, get offended too easily, aren’t funny, and can’t take a punch to the face. Why would any man want to hang out with someone like that? It was that very question that went through the mind of Jean Luc Godard as he put his brain slaves to work in order to create a tolerable gal. And as luck would have it, along with a good brain slave whippin', Godard succeeded in just that. In his films you’ll find the women characters to be so much more fun. They’re funny, energetic, spontaneous, intelligent, adventurous, and also SMMMMMOKIN!!! You’ll never guess what they’ll do next but they're so hot you don’t even care. On top of that they say some poetic words that melt your ear drums into next week.

This is a scene from Jean Luc Godard’s lost film Le Petit Peep. The dialogue is in French so you might have to bring it to a translator.

Stephane: Your eyes are like two of le God’s testicles.

Charlotte: But isn’t le God inside us? Aren’t we all just filled with les testicles?

Stephane: I love you. Bibliothèque.

Charlotte: I want to be dead so I could wish I were alive. Fuck me!!!

Shephane: L’Aight.

As that scene shows you, these woman are serious business. You won’t know what to expect in a relationship with them mommas. All you can do is act like an all around cool French guy as your honey actually keeps you entertained with her words. Wait...What...I’m sorry but I’m just in shock from my last sentence. Entertained by her WORDS?!?! Since when does a man EVER get entertained by a woman’s words? Normally you’d be listening to a nag fest about how you're not a good listener or your butt stinks and that nag fest never turns into a hump fest. With Jean’s women, you could listen to her for hours and actually enjoy retaining the information. Plus, while she talks you can take a gander at her sweet jugs. Even women in other films can't out-sexify Godard's. Sure you'd want Angelina Jolie inside your pants right now but have you ever thought about being in an actual relationship with her? Her, along with all other women, just want to get as many kids as possible and make you take care of them while they go get a pedicure. It's unfair I tell ya.

Every moment with les femme is so magical it’s like a movie. It’s as if everything she says is scripted and was written from an intelligent critic/filmmaker. And isn’t that what every man wants? A women who is under the control of a hip, French guy. That would be so cool boobies. Just don't get the thought in your mind that all you need is a French girl. Helllllll no! The real French hoes are super mean and don't have subtitles under them so they're speaking gibberish. What I suggest is that you quit being a Wacko Link who takes beatings from your boring, emotional girlfriend and just learn how to brainwash women to become sexy, Jean Luc Godard babes.

Popcorn and Movies (SAY WHAT?!?)

2010-02-19T12:28:00.000-08:00

As Fuzzy Randy and I have traveled the world in search of combinations to make our butt hairs twinkle, the kind of immaculate pairings that could set Jesus and his disciples in an orgy of ecstasy, we have been invariably shocked by the number of appalling combos that have got in our way. It seems that for every perfect combination there is also a perfectly bad one. We decided that because we can't lie to ourselves and say that the world is made up of only the sweet stuff, we also have to cover the things that make pirates shoot gross stuff out of their weenies. We're too smart to deny that for every block of feta cheese there is a block of swiss, for every Wes Anderson there is a James Cameron, for every Quasimodo there is a Raptor, and so on. Therefore, we have made the mutual decision to include bad combinations too, and they will always be signaled with a (SAY WHAT?!?) next to the title. Accept it or wreck yourself.

I suspect that there is a collective disagreement from the outset about popcorn and movies being included in this light. Of course, this has been a cultural staple in entertainment for decades. Cinemas would not sell popcorn to moviegoers about to see Baby Geniuses 2 if not for its widespread appeal. People watch the babies running around burning crosses and slashing witches all while stuffing their faces with the buttery, crunchy shit, and this makes them happy. Well, I hate to throw a snake in your boots pals, but all you popcorn-chompers are out of your damn minds. There are a vast number of reasons why not to chuck choking pills down your throats while experiencing one of the greatest art forms the world has to offer, and I'm going to cover them. With extra butter.

1. Cinema began as a SILENT art. This means that there was no sound. Moviegoers would take their future brides out to the cinematheque and watch Charlie Chaplin comb his nasal hairs all while sitting there in awe of the simplistic beauty of the moving image. They didn't need the sound, for the vision was thrilling enough to put the jump in their jive. Popcorn, by contrast, is probably the LOUDEST food on the planet. I think this is a hilarious irony. One hundred years later, the pikchas have added blaring soundtracks that give you astronomical wedgies, but still the world's loudest movies (the Transformers franchise, superhero movies, Love, Actually) are not loud enough to drown out the explosive crunch of 25 fat lards eating gross popcorn. You can only imagine what this is like while watching a quiet, pensive movie like Soul Plane. It's like an atomic bomb goes off every time Snoop Dogg opens his mouth to speak that pitch-perfect dialogue: "baby, I'll pump yo ass" or, "damn, it's freezing in this coffin and my dick knows it!". This goofy kid knows what's up. (He's really talking about popcorn.)

2. Popcorn is just not that tasty. I don't care if you don't agree with my assessment. There's no way to persuasively justify bite-size plastic wrap with little brown flaky stuff on the inside that always gets stuck in your teeth, your tongue, and your lymph nodes. The butter and salt is the only thing that gives popcorn any flavor whatsoever. Have you ever had plain popcorn? That shit tastes like grandmothers! Choose candy or a hot dog or nachos at least, an assortment of other sub-par industrial snack foods that don't produce seismic shifts in the earth's atmosphere every time you take a bite.

3. It seems like when people buy popcorn, they receive the invitation to dump it all over the aisles of the theater. I've been knee-deep in popcorn before while watching a movie and that was no good. Even when there's only a thin covering of popcorn along the aisle, it creates a disgustingly greasy floor. One time, I sat in front of a lady who literally got stuck to the floor at the end of the movie. She could not leave and asked for me to get a paramedic. I decided that instead of wasting my time on that, I'd go sit on my ass and juggle pinballs. The next time I went back to that theater, the lady was a skeleton. Thanks a lot popcorn grease.

4. Raptor eats popcorn when watching movies like Bad Santa and Get Rich or Die Tryin'. That's self-explanatory.

5. Randy Savage doesn't eat popcorn when watching movies (some of his favorites are James and the Giant Peach and The Flying Toaster). That's also self-explanatory.

Don't eat popcorn at movie theaters or else you'll end up like this chap...

SMOKE!

Piano and Violin

2010-01-14T21:15:00.001-08:00

Just imagine walking down a lonely, wet street just after your parent’s funeral. They died of course from being trampled by eighteen whores and thirty-two midgets just outside of TGI Fridays. It happens to the best of us. Anyway, you’re walking home with lost hope in the world. Your misery is starting to overcome you. It’s night time and your shadow stretches across the gravel. Trash fills the streets and a sharp wind stings your face. You’re all alone...alone...alone (echo). Oh yeah everything is in black and white too. But then out of no where this sad, melodic tune from an old piano fades in. It plays a song that transforms what you’re feeling into a musical form. It sounds a little like this. Just when your heart is ripped out your body from the beauty of this soft piano another sound comes in and puts your heart in the grinder and your balls in a stew. It’s the sound of a violin that sneaks in and mixes so well with the piano that it gives the Greek Gods orgasms. That sounds a little like this.The combination of these two instruments just create such a peaceful, warm mood that tickles your whole body, especially your butt hairs.

In a world full of chaos and cat raping we need to listen to something to calm us down. Rap and rock music just talk about elbowing hookers and smoking the marawons which doesn’t really help all this violence shove it. I discovered this wonderful musical combination when I was in a huge fight with Raptor. You see, Raptor stole one of my Dunkaroos so I told him to get bent and then we just started going at it like real men. We slapped each other for hours until a car drove by blasting a beautiful song with just a piano and violin playing. We experienced such tranquility that we stopped mid slap and just froze. I of course took that opportunity to round-house-kick his lights out and he ran home crying like a fucking galoop. Even though the music was just so breathtaking, I’m still not such a pusspot that I’d let it completely overwhelm me when theres a chance to put Raptor in the muck. What kind of guy do you think I am?

“A queer guy!”

No Raptor fuck you!!!

You see, a piano is like a Mermaid; they are beautiful, majestic animals that everyone wants to have. The only problem with mermaids is that...well...their lower half doesn’t really please any genitals because it’s scaly as fuck. Now you know that things become one hundred times better when you can put your genitals in it. Mermaids just show their knockers left and right but never put out. But don’t you worry baby boo because this is where the violin comes in and fixes everything. The violin would be the lower half of a woman that replaces the mermaid’s scaly ass tail shit. So the combination of a piano and violin is kinda like a mystical mermaid with a hot, human top and lower half of her body, making you say “Dayum babe is that an oyster in your ass or are just you happy to see me?” Unfortunately she actually does have an oyster in her ass and she probably got poop all over it. But just remember friendos, whenever you’re down in the dumps or up in the lumps take a gander with your ears at a real supreme composition. Your butt hairs will be thoroughly pleased.

Skateboarders and "No Skateboarding" Signs

2009-11-04T11:03:00.000-08:00

CRUISING DOWN THE STREET WITH THEIR SERIOUS PETES! IT'S THE SKATEBOARDERS FROM QUARGONZAI! LOOK AROUND THE CORNER AND WHAT DO YOU SEE? IT'S THE SKATEBOARDERS FROM QUARGONZAI! MAKE YOU SO SCARED THAT YOU WANNA TAKE A PEE! IT'S THE SKATEBOARDERS FROM QUARGONZAI! BREAKING ALL THE BUILDINGS WITH THEIR JOHNSON'S FREE! IT'S THE SKATEBOARDERS FROM QUARGONZAI!

This is the coolest jingle ever written. (Listen to it here.) But it's also one of the truest. The jingle was actually made for a 1975 advertisement for...GUNS! People were getting fed up with unruly skateboarders intruding on their space and flinging kickflips all up in their shit. Basically, this advertisement was telling people to buy guns and finish off skateboarders, make their blood bleed, send them to the grave, buy them a new home with worms, etcetera. After the Watergate Scandal, people were going wild. They didn't know what to believe because they felt that any ruler would ultimately screw them over. So what's the best way to stick it to the man and protect yourself? With GUNS! I've bought like thirty guns throughout my life for all different reasons, some for things as minor as my aunt not giving me the recipe to her famous chicken pot pie. I taught her a lesson. (Why I didn't use one of the 29 other guns I already had is another question.) The important thing is to not let people like Raptor get their hands on a gun, because they just might start shooting people that matter. Give Wolfman 3000 a gun and you'll know for sure that the body count will be made up only of liars and thieves.

So, before I digress too much, these skateboarders were not in the best interests of the masses. After all, they had their penises out for most of the time according to the jingle! Learning about this story made me realize how similar today's situation is, with the exception of gun accessibility. Skateboarders still ride around with their junk out and swear at innocent pedestrians. They vandalize valuable property and steal kid's candy apples, not to eat them but to put them up their butts. And when I say this, I mean ALL skateboarders. They are all jerks. That doesn't mean however that what they do isn't incredibly badass; anyone who can simulate gay butt sex in mid air with a scratchy four-wheeled board is a proficient athlete in my book. It's only fair that the athlete should play on the turf most suited to his/her sport, am I right?

That brings me to the combination. Let's consider this from the skateboarder's point of view. He loves breaking rules. He's all about disorder and chaos. Why would He want to ride in the skate park built for Him, when that's just doing what someone allows and it means staying out of people's business. The skateboarder wants to be where His existence is noticed, where people can see His junk and be so up-close-and-personal with it that they nearly choke on it. Moreover, the skateboarder is really an anarchist at heart, so He wants to be be somewhere that strictly prohibits Him from being there. Consequently, this happens to be where the coolest skate spots are because of how many nice architectural flourishes are built. For instance, The White House would be the sickest place to skate; you could vertically grind the tall pillars and even nollie across Obama's clean-shaven head. These are the kind of ludicrous ideas that skaters eat up. Anything that shakes things up a bit is of interest to them. So when they see a "No Skateboarding" sign, it's like Christmas in July, even when it's not July. Yes, this may be annoying to the public, but we can't be too harsh on them. After all, they were born with the unfortunate disability of seeing the world as if through a fish-eye.

Men and Women

2009-09-22T17:29:00.000-07:00

"Did you clean the gutter yet? Have you fixed the television? Are you listening to me? Hey did you just fluff your Garfield on my new hair iron?" How many times have you heard these obnoxious questions from your wife or girlfriend? Like three hundred zillion times right? It's just a constant nag fest twenty four seven. The women in this world just don't know when to stop talking. Men are just the opposite. We're all relaxed and cool individuals who do nothing wrong until the women come in and ruin everything. That's why men didn't let women have as many rights back then because they were scared of what those shedevils would do to the world with all that power. I'm scared just letting my sister babysit me when my parents are gone. She makes me wear her dresses and gives me Indian sunburns until I puke. Men and women have nothing in common and are an awful combination...so you think.

Now lets talk science for a bit. For those wee ones reading this I'd suggest you'd stop right now and go back to your Berenstein Bears because it's gonna get hot and dirty in here. Men have dingleberries and women have flarglesnoops. It's as simple as that. We like to stick our dingleberies into women's flarglesnoops because it feels good and it also makes slimy ass babies. They were made for each other, like a key and a key hole, a snake and a snake hole, or even a hole and a hole hole. What I'm trying to say is that pee pees point outward on the body and vee vees point inward on the body. Our shlongs fit right into the women perfectly, unless you're Raptor who's wiener is smaller than an acorn. I know cause I looked at it while he was sleeping.

Now I'm no homophobe saying that only men and women could engage in the sex business perfectly. What makes these gay men not so perfect is that poop lives in their butts and that poop gets all over their rods. And gay women...well...I don't really know how they have sex. Sex is just so fitting when it involves a man and a woman. Another thought for you to munch on is that men and women's opposite abilities come together beautifully when connecting genitals. Women are flexible where as men are stiff, but somehow that works. Women are silky soft where as men are rough with pubes and such, but somehow that works. Women are weak and brittle where as men are strong and smart, but somehow that works. Men's big hands fit perfectly on a woman's boob sac. Women also do wonderful things with their tongues that only men can appreciate. Sex is just the one thing connecting cool ass men and stinky butt women and without sex it wouldn't just be the dinosaurs who are extinct. Women would be...cause men would kill them...hehehe....get it?

Buttsocket!

Olives and Feta

2009-09-21T11:38:00.000-07:00

Put an olive up your ass. Now put a hunk of feta cheese up your ass. Don't they both burn your ass? If your ass is really your mouth, then yes, they do. Olives and feta cheese are two of the most distinctive flavors that the world of food has to offer. Some would say that their intense bitterness is too much to handle and that it shrouds the real richness of flavor that is underneath. Some say olives taste like pee-pee smoothies and feta tastes like buttcrack nachos. These opinions are actually objectively false. Both are delectable delicacies that only real food connoisseurs can enjoy. But how do two extremes put together make something new and of value, you may ask? If two extreme personalities got together for a rendezvous, wouldn't they have no chemistry? Don't opposites attract?

These are all valid questions to ask when attempting to counter the perfection that is the olive and feta combination. However, they are ultimately worthless questions, because they will be deemed void once you hear the words that are comin' out of my mouth. One day, Randy Savage was sitting in his pig-pen and he had some guests coming over his house. They were all of high class, and Randy, of course being a lowly peasant, wanted to prepare the finest dinner of all for them to prove that he was a worthy human being. He decided to make goat balls for them. Unfortunately, we'll never know what they thought of the goat balls, because Raptor caught word of this gathering, so Randy Savage was deeply worried that his party would be ruined. He told Leo Muskrat, who was the only good man in town that had the respect of Raptor, to tell Raptor that his party was at 6:00 instead of the 8:00 starting time he had previously mentioned. Instead of just grabbing the gun that was hanging quite obviously on his front door and blowing Raptor's brains to kingdom come, Randy Savage devised a more unusual plan. He thought about what would be the two most disgusting foods possible to pair together in hopes that upon eating them, Raptor would keel over and die and Randy could toss him into the mass grave in his backyard that was filled with Fascists. So he put feta cheese and olives into a bowl together with toothpicks, asking Raptor to eat the items together. It turns out that Raptor absolutely loved the combination, and it is said to have given him immortal life, which is precisely why he still annoys the shit out of us today, 2523 years after this event. So Randy Savage never even tried to get rid of Raptor; instead, they had butt sex upstairs, which revolted the eventual guests. That's why we don't know what they thought about the goat balls.

So, this combination arrives with a major irony: its inception was witnessed by the worst creature this world knows. But nonetheless, olives and feta are an immaculate pairing, capable of making your tastebuds do a tango, your balls do a ring-around-the-rosy, and your eyes spin back and forth like a hyena's prey. Based on this absurd logic, a combination is deemed perfect as long as it makes several muscles on your body spasm like Paris Hilton's vagina when she sees Raptor. Also try drinking wine when you have olives and feta, which makes the meal a triplicate of explosive tastes, because the unspoken truth in the world is that the best things are the things we have to fight for, and damn do we have to squirm when we slide our front teeth across that toothpick, removing those heavenly bits of ball-breaking goodness.

Homeless People and Cities

2009-09-04T17:03:00.000-07:00

The shit I'm going to lay down right now will be so heavy and controversial that if your mind isn't coated with endurance you'll end up crapping your insides out. I'm not joking around, I showed my friend Sammy Diaz the rough draft of this post and his insides came out of his ass faster than a strawberry sunday. So now that I got the pansies to stop reading lets continue with this post because my scented bubble bath can't wait all day.

The world is all kinds of fucked up right now. We got wars left and right, differences in opinions leading to death, brothas hatin on brothas, and girls thinking it's alright to poop in a cup and eat it. Sure you can blame the Government, the newer generations, or even those damn video games, but that shit got nothing on all the suffering. I've been researching for eight miserable years and have come to a conclusion that our biggest problem in this cruel cruel sphere are the stinky uglies we call the homeless. Homeless people (also referred to as hobos, bums, and gargonzies) live on our streets and pollute this world with their filth. Those gargonzies are so lazy that they don't even take showers or brush their teeth. They just lay on the ground and ask us normal, civilized people for change. "First of all buddy there has been change because Barack Obama is now President. DUH! Secondly buddy why don't you shut up and get a job. Thirdly buddy why don't you stop stinking and get some educashon. Fourthly buddy...YOU AIN'T MY BUDDY!" I just blew that bum's mind into bits.

Now you may ask yourself, "if he's bashing the homeless so hard and real how is this combination going to be perfect?" I'll just respond saying, "shut up tinkle toes and keep reading or your lights will be punched out!" Sure the homeless suck great stew balls but it is a known fact that some homeless started off their lives just like us. This means that no matter who you are there's still a chance that you someday can become a gargonzy, unless your Fankie Muniz who's too talented to let that ever happen. Lets just say you have an addiction to coke, weed, and booze and after you drink your coke, cut those damn weeds in your yard, and stop booing performances you become dead broke. What do you do when your at this state you fucking hobo? Well what does every homeless stink bomb do? They live their lives in the CCCCCCCIIIIIIITTTTTTYYYYYY!!!!!!!!

Yes the city life is the less shitty life for the homeless. In the Big Apple or all the other apples those bums have it all set. If they ever feel like a good alcoholic beverage or a smoky smoke all they have to do is sit down and say "change" and then some poindexture will hand them some wiggidy change. I'd love to give them change because I'm a nice guy but Raptor takes it during recess every day. But jokes on him because I put my change in my cats butt before he takes it so he gets cat butt on his hands. The second best thing about the city is that there's shelter everywhere so when it rains those bastards can stay under some big ole building and be as dry as a jack rabbit on a tuesday. What's great about people who don't finish eating their dinner, especially their vegetables, is that there's always someone in their trash doing that for them and in the city there are like fifty trillion billion trash cans full of gross broccoli. Where else can you get food, money, and shelter all in one alley way. There are also lovely benches for them to take nippy naps on. If I become homeless from wasting all my money of X-Men Pogs I'd totally find myself a fine city and let my balls hang out all day. Sure this combination isn't so perfect for those who hate the homeless and live in a city but my combinations can favor some over the other. In the right perspective this combination is perfecto and if you find yourself on the streets with no home and a fork in your ass you'll thank me for the advise of hitting up the city life and letting your balls hang out like there's no tomorrow.

Hair Salons and Papyrus

2009-08-26T12:36:00.000-07:00

Ok, before we begin, you're probably immediately baffled by this combination. You're thinking: "Papyrus? Say what? That light paper shit that comes from plants? How does that relate to hair salons?" Well, it doesn't, nimrod. If you're familiar with the design world, or rather, the shitty design world, you know the font Papyrus. You know, ugly, tacky, egyptian-esque, Michael G-ish, super ugly Papyrus. The kind of font that belongs to that league of grade school embellishing tools along with Comic Sans, Kurlz MT, Stencil, the dreadful Jokerman, and any other terminally lame typeface that, you know, resides on any PTO Conference Newsletter, High School Cheerleading Car Wash Advertisement, or Bake Sale Rundown. These are the types of fonts that freaks like Raptor use, while the big boys like us who write here at Perfect Combinations for Better Reputations stick to nice, appealing sans serifs and stuff.

Anyways, the gaudy quality of Papyrus just doesn't matter when it comes to a hair salon. Across the country, even the world for that matter (because you know, we do tons of rigorous research), you'd be surprised to find how many hair salons do indeed use Papyrus for their banners and whole visual scheme. Walk down the street and I guarantee within ten minutes you will discover this too. I'm not talking about Supercuts or any other dumb chain haircutters, I'm talking about the more personal joints. And they do it for a reason: behind the ugliness of Papyrus, there is a sleek, suave, almost rejuvenating quality. People go to hair salons to begin anew, by getting their hair cut, their mustachio trimmed, their hair colorized, (their pubes trimmed?), and maybe even in some instances, their religion converted. What is Papyrus if not a blatant attempt at a soothing, spiritual typeface, and given its Egyptian influence, a tribute to ethnicity and history and all that dumb bullshit. People want to feel soothed when they get their herr did, so how better to entice them than with a banner boasting Papyrus!?

At this point, you're probably a bit skeptical. All of the pretentious douschebags are thinking to themselves: "Well, once I look at that sign and I know its papyrus, I'm not going in there because they're tacky." Get over it, you schmuck! The bottom line is they don't care very much about design. As long as the place looks clean and healthy, to me, with their obvious lack of visual marketing skills, they have at least chosen a font that will get their point across. Their essence. (Isn't essence a great word to use when talking about hair salons? No? Fuck you Raptor.) Another important thing is, when you're driving down the street with your gross, scraggly hair that hasn't been cut in two years, and your wife is with you with her absurdly heinous afro, and you're having a discussion like this - You: "Baby, I'm sorry to admit this, but I'm a hermaphrodite", Her: "God dammit Jose, all i need for you to do is trim the lawn! You never do it!", You: "But what about the radioactive sandwich?" - you're gonna see that hair salon from a distance and immediately be attracted to Papyrus. You won't recognize how shitty the font is, you'll just see the essence of it. Then, in one hip-hip-hooray, you'll yell: "By golly baby, we better go get our herrs did!". I dare you to go in and not say the service is fantastic, because they know how to entice you with their Egyptian-like aura.

Christmas and Pajamas

2009-07-23T21:08:00.001-07:00

It’s a known fucking fact that Christmas is the BEST time of the year. It's a time when billions of Christian families come together, share laughs and love, and celebrate what truly matters. PRESENTS!!! I love presents so much I pop like eighteen boners just thinking about them. I just popped like five boners writing that sentence. But I'm not exactly sure why Christmas is on December 25; it must be the day some guy invented presents. Everyone agrees that Christmas and presents are a perfect combination, but I’m not here to point out the obvious to you because you guys are smarty pants. I’m about to discuss a holiday combination that everyone does but so few truly acknowledge. I’m talking about Christmas and pajamas.

Opening presents on Christmas day is absolutely nothing without a super duper cool pair of pajamas. You need to be in the prime state of comfort when you open your presents or else you will be missing something. Something I'd like to call soul because your pajamas give you the strength you need to bite through that ribbon, rip off that paper, and spend hours trying to get through the plastic covering on your toy. How else can you dance wacky wild when you get a new Crash Bandicoot game? You can't jump around in excitement wearing some tight ass clothing or businessman shit. Your pajamas act as a second skin layer that are flexible enough to withstand any movement and comfy enough to please your genitals. Pajamas are also the only articles of clothing that you actually like to get for a present on Christmas, especially camo pajamas. Just check the history books and you'll see that nobody has ever gone a Christmas without their pajamas. Even Thomas Edison went ape shit for wearing his light bulb pajamas on Christmas.

Just imagine yourself waking up early in the mourning on Christmas day, early of course because your presents might dissolve if not opened soon, pushing over your covers and looking down at your fuzzy, warm pajamas snug fit on your impatient skin. Then you jump off your bed and after peeing for like two minutes you slip and slide your way to your gifts. This is true happiness at it's finest, but your happiness does vary depending on what kind of pajamas you have. You're a god if you wear footy pajamas because those babies keep you crazy snug and also protect you from anything, even Spiderclaw. If you've never met Spiderclaw before your lucky as hell; It's 50% spider, 50% claw, and 100% a scary ass monster under my bed. I've actually never seen Spiderclaw but Raptor told me all about how scary it is. The second best pajamas to wear would have to be the ones made out of silk because nothing feels better on your wangerdoodle then silky silk. After that I'd say very old pajamas would be the next best because the older they are the closest they get to feeling like silk and that means they still feel good on your wangerdoodle. You'd think regular cotton pajamas would be next but what comes before that would have to be camo pajamas. They are cotton but because I include the cool factor in everything I decided to separate camo cotton pajamas from other cotton pajamas. You could totally feel like you're actually in the army with your camo so they should be different. Cotton pajamas are still wiggidy wack cool but if you want to experience Christmas with all sorts of bliss you need to get yourself some pajamas that can make your wangerdoodle sing a beautiful song.

Spinach and Artichoke

2009-07-06T17:41:00.000-07:00

What you're about to read is a story from the missing pages of the Hole Bible. This will change you're perception on life, religion, and dip.

After Jesus Christ built a reputation and became super popular with all the villagers, he started to run into some trouble. The village was always short on food and relied on Jesus to use his wicked sweet powers to make bread and wine for everyone. But Jesus became tired from constantly using this power and getting no reward for it. So just like Peter Parker in "Spiderman 2," Jesus started to loose his powers because he didn't really appreciate them anymore. But the people's hunger soon grew strong and they started to blame Jesus for their struggles. To keep his rep, Jesus tried his hardest to find food elsewhere. He noticed that the village only grew spinach and artichokes in the gardens but these two foods were too bitter and tasteless for the villagers to handle so no one even dared eat them. So Jesus, with his sharp wit and spider-like reflexes, took the two foods and mixed them together with some cheese and shit to create an act of God.

This miracle that fed so many in the past still exists today. It is formally known as spinach and artichoke dip. What makes this dip a perfect combination is that it contains vegetables that TASTE GOOD! Adults love to be super dick wads and shove disgusting vegetables down their poor kid's throats because they're jealous of our youth. But with this warm, cheesy delight you'll get your dose of vegetables and be as satisfied as a horse's ass. Instead of thinking about how that last remark made no sense think about how spinach and artichoke dip is perfect for any average shmuck. It's very easy to make and not at all time consuming so you could have enough time to blog about how great this blog is. When finished cooking this dip, people will also think you've slaved over a hot stove because it looks so professional it's like Bobby Flay came in and cooked up a stew. So if you have any boring ass chips or boring ass pieces of bread just hanging around your boring ass house, make up some spinach and artichoke dip super fast and dip that shit like you'd never believe. You could also have the ladies come over your house some day and cook them up some of this nice dip and they'll totally go first base with you in a matter of seconds. But make sure you don't go to any further bases with them because that's so yucky. I even asked my whole neighborhood if they loved this dip and the only one that said no was my arch nemesis Raptor, but that's only because he's a dick. So kneel down, look up into the sky, and thank Jesus Christ for this absolutely delicious creation.

Men and Dogs

2009-07-02T17:04:00.000-07:00

To start off this blog I decided to talk about the very well known combination of a man and his dog. People always say, “A dog is a man’s best friend,” well these assholes are right. Only men can appreciate dogs because not only are they loyal, but men can relate to them. Dogs like food, running, chewing, dirt, butts, puddles, and sleeping. Guys love all of that stuff and sometimes in that order. These animals have the ability to lick their own junk which is something men only dream of doing. I’d lick my junk ALL THE TIME! There’s also an obvious relation between bones and boners. Dogs love to play with bones as much as men love to play with their boners. Are these two names coincidental? I think not! Anyway there’s no denying these similarities because really, if you think about it, dogs love to hump just as much as men do and neither of them have the decency to do it in private.

Now with all the similarities between dudes and dogs you'd think there are some with women. BUT NO STUPID! Women only wish they share a connection with dogs but they are too clean and sophisticated. Dogs love to get down and dirty and play rough and tumble no matter what gender. Dogs are just icky fur balls to them and they slobber all over their new boutique shoes. They may say they love dogs but deep down you know they want to turn your Dalmatian into a lovely fur coat. Cruella De Vil totally did. Ladies just can't handle these creatures; they'd rather be in some Victorian tea party or clean something. What I'm trying to say is that women are objectively boring.

Just think back to many historic companionships between men and their dogs. You got Will Smith with his German Shepherd in that crappy movie "I Am Legend," Frankie Muniz and his Terrier in that amazing movie "My Dog Skip," Wallace and his dog Gromit, and that dog that fetches your dead ducks in that manly video game "Duck Hunt." The only thing the women have is Paris Hilton and her poor excuse for a dog who she stuffs in that purse. All women want to do is shove their dogs in their purses and forget about them. Objectively women just don't like dogs and would rather suffocate all cute animals because they're jealous.

What makes the man and dog relationship so strong is that men can think and say that dogs are big ole cutie pies and not be criticized for it by any bullies. Everyone agrees that dogs are adorable, even guidos. When I come home and my dog is waiting for me right at the door I just want to squeeze him till he explodes all over the walls. When they lick you in the face it's like being kissed by a Greek Goddess. Only men can enjoy their faces being covered by the saliva of a dog; the same saliva that touched its junk. Parts of my day are spent just laying on the ground cuddling and getting kisses from my dog. I could even tell my arch-nemesis Raptor about how much I love my dog and he'd be cool with it because he's a, you guessed it, man. (Just an FYI: Raptor is a total dick and we're both enemies).

Men just love dogs, and the ones who hate them were probably born as women but their disappointed fathers stapled a penis onto them. You see, men are just very badass and like to go on badass adventures, so they need a companion who loves them and are equally as badass. D O G S!!! They're loyal, protective, joyful, fun, and affectionate. Everything that women aren't. Eventually the love between men and dogs will become so strong that evolution will create a furry ass dogman thing that doesn't need a woman to survive because lets face it, women are objectively lame. My post is coming to a close so I'll leave you with this one thought; God backwards is dog and we all know God is probably a dude.