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Week #9: The World

22 Feb


How To Take Over The World

22 Feb

As a kid, Pinky and the Brain was my second favorite show, just behind HBO Real Sex.  It might even have been my first favorite, if not for this:  Pinky and the Brain were failures.

Every night, Brain’s plan for world domination fell flat.  In almost every case, this was so because Brain did not keep the dense and easily distracted Pinky under-wraps.

I could have helped.

If PATB was the 2009-10 LA Lakers…
Brain = Kobe, the ring-hungry mastermind
Pinky = Ron Artest, ultra-defender and ultra-dufus.

I could have been Lamar Odom, immaculate teammate.  Or Derek Fisher, dependable point guard.  I would not have been Pau Gasol, because he looks like a reptilian half-griffin with severe chromosomal defects, and I find that comparison unflattering.

What I’m saying is, if the Brain wanted to use his namesake, he would have brought me on as a third.  I have all the ideas.  All he had to do was ask me.

See, look…


Step One:  Learn How to Use Photoshop.

Eight good reasons right there, but the real reason has to do with…

Step Two:  Make a Poster Like This:

Some things have scientific explanations.  Some things don’t. I don’t know where the effectiveness of the Obama poster falls on that binary, but this shit just WORKS.

An anecdote:  I saw this poster on the streets of NYC this past weekend.  I didn’t know who Miss Knockout was, or what she did for a living.  But after seeing her flyer, I knew I had to follow her into whatever fire she might enter.  Turns out her “living” involves standing outside in the freezing cold, pestering die-hard LCD Soundsystem fans while they wait in line for concert tickets through the wee hours of the morning (can you spot a familiar face?)  (Watch part two to see Miss Knockout do the robot.  Unreal.)

Thus, in addition to taking over the world, I pledge to harass shivering LCD fans by Miss KO’s side until the day I die.  Can’t help it.  I’m just so cot damn inspired by the artwork.

If that’s not scientific proof, I don’t know what is.  Put yourself in a poster like that, and the world is your bivalve mollusk with a rough irregular shell.

Step Three:  Join the Illuminati

No, you read that right.  I said “join.”  So what if it’s the most secretive, most powerful group in the world?  Sack up and make it happen.

All you have to do is:

1. Go to any McDonald’s

2. Ask for a Happy Meal, Extra Happy.*

*if you get this reference, you just became my VP.
**if you know what a yeerk is, you can be my tailor.

3. The cashier will give you a chocolate milkshake and fries.  Dip the fries in the chocolate milkshake.  Enjoy.  This has nothing to do with becoming Illuminati, but it’s the right thing to do and is very delicious.

4. The cashier will then lead you through a secret passageway.  At the end of it you will find:

LeBron James
Raggedy Andy
Summer Sanders
The Cowboy from Marlboro Ads
The guy who invented double-sided tape
Tipper Gore

And None of these Folks:

Name all five and you can be my chamberlain.

Ask any of the above people this simple question:

“May I please join the Illuminati?”

They’ll say yes and commend you for your manners.  They’ll applaud your Photoshop skills and offer fist-bumps for the veteran French-Fry-to-Milkshake maneuver.  You’ll make fun of Mark Zuckerberg with them for an hour.  Then, they’ll help you take over the world.



Like I said, all they had to do was ask.

<3, Pete the Peasant

Life Lessons

22 Feb

After being in existence for just over 23 years, I, Cakes, have learned quite a bit about the world.

I have learned how to drive a car and how to ride a bike.

I have learned how to swim and how to brush my teeth.

I have learned how to read, write, and solve third-order differential equations.

But that is not all.

I have learned how to play (in order of skill level) soccer, basketball, baseball, kickball, football, volleyball, and pong.

I have learned how to snowboard and have decided, after many failed attempts, that I should stop trying to railslide on fallen tree branches.

I have learned that there is no “I” in “team” and no “mitten” in “badminton.”

I have learned very little about figure skating but am quite pleased to know that there is one aerial maneuver called a “triple sow-cow,” and at this very moment I am visualizing a figure-skating cow.

But that is not all.

I have learned how to make very good mojitos.

I have learned that there is, sadly, such a thing as “too much bacon.”

I have been taught the proper technique for eating artichoke leaves and have since boycotted the food.

I have learned, after consuming a rather watery steak, that there is an important difference between “boiling” and “broiling.”

I have learned, after spending an afternoon in the principal’s office, that there is an important difference between “condos” and “condoms.”

I have learned how to freestyle rap–which is to say that I’ve memorized 11 words that rhyme with “radiator,” 7 words that rhyme with “Doritos,” 23 phrases that loosely rhyme with “Triscuits,” 5 words that rhyme with “Vaseline,” and at least one word that rhymes with “antelope.”

But that is not all.

I have learned that Chubby Hubby is my favorite flavor of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.

I have learned far more than I ever wanted to know about menstruation.

I have recently learned how to apply shaving cream with a brush made from badger hair and have concluded that this is vastly superior to applying shaving cream without a brush made from badger hair.

Moreover, I have learned that shaving against the grain can lead to ingrown hairs and razor burn, that shaving after (not before) a shower is best, and that shaving one’s torso is really not a good idea, especially if one plans on seeing his grandparents at the beach in the very near future. (Also, having a hairless abdominal region really only works if one has visible abdominals; otherwise it just looks like a massive boob with a bellybutton for a nipple).

In short, I have learned a great deal about shaving. But that is not all.

I have learned, after dressing up twice as a spherical cow and once as a gorilla in a magenta bikini, that the mascot business is surprisingly lucrative.

I have learned, from acquiring Joan Osborne’s debut album as a First Communion present, all the lyrics to “[What If God Was] One of Us.” I have since forgotten half these lyrics and, in their place, have memorized the background vocals in Waka Flocka Flame’s “Hard In Da Paint.”

I have learned the word “vindicated” from Dashboard Confessional, the word “despondent” from Bright Eyes, and all the words pertaining to pre-1900s history from Colin Meloy.

I have learned the meaning of “irony”–both as it applies to literature and as it applies to the facial hair of twenty-somethings in Brooklyn.

I have learned three different words to describe the region between one’s balls and one’s asshole.

I have learned how to play Candyland.

(But that is not all.)

I have learned that there is an annual event called “Flavors of the Valley” hosted in Lebanon, NH, and that if you happen to attend this event on April 20th in a state of extreme hunger, you should be aware that it’s really more of a “taste-testing” affair than it is an all-you-can-eat buffet, and that if you happen to push elderly women and small children out of your way in an effort to stuff your face with locally made maple sausage, you may be asked, by a gentlemen in a rather stern voice, to please leave the auditorium.

I have learned how to pirate copyrighted materials.

I have learned how to describe the sonic qualities of the indie subgenres “chill-wave,” “shoegaze,” and “dream pop,” and have also discovered that there’s never really an appropriate time to bring this up in conversation.

I have learned how to tweet.

I have learned that it is of utmost importance to inquire about the price of a haircut before one actually receives said haircut.

I have learned the names of 50 states, 143 counties, 86 cities, and 92 world leaders–though I will admit I am still learning how to estimate large numerical values.

J’ai appris comment parler français…. un peu.

I have learned the difference between DNA and RNA (also GZA and RZA).

I have learned how to administer CPR and take a pulse.

I have learned three different ways to tie my ties, two different ways to tie my shoes, and at least one way to contort my genitals so that it looks like a hamburger between two buns (plain, not sesame seed).

I have learned that body lotions with aloe vera are not ideal when selecting a personal lubricant.

I have yet to learn what is meant by the phrase “too much information.”

But that is not all.

I have learned that–assuming you’ve satisfied the first two needs in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs–all you need is love  …but that defining and finding such a thing can be a dreadfully tricky business.

I have learned that laughter is not the best medicine if you have whooping cough. (But, in general, it is a good idea.)

I have learned that I am good at some things, better at others, and pathologically impaired when it comes to time management.

I have learned that I am flawed
…but that this is ok.

I have learned how to learn.

And, ultimately, I have learned that the entire sum of everything I have learned and could ever hope to learn is but a mere speck of lint when compared to the infinite fabric of knowledge available in the world.

So I have learned that, whilst in the process of living life, learning is an important thing to do.

But, fortunately, that is not all.


It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

22 Feb

You cannot prepare for some things until they actually happen to you: taxes, switching bodies with Rob Schneider, switching faces with John Travolta, being able to sleep after you watch The Ring, that cursive written statement at the end of the SAT’s. When you encounter such a life-changing event, you either sack up and deal with the unexpected, or fold under the pressure.

Ke$ha knows what I’m talking about. To clarify, she’s the one on the left. That’s not John Travolta from Hairspray.

Fortunately, countless movies have thoroughly prepared me for one of life’s biggest mysteries: the end of the world. Be it alien invasion, zombie apocalypse, nuclear war, meteor impact, or natural disaster, I know exactly what I’ll do.

Alien Invasion

First piece of advice: do not trust the aliens. Sure, some aliens – like the ones in District 9 – are allegories about how man treats the Outsider. But these are aliens we are talking about, people. Not symbols, but real life aliens! Most of them do not want “to phone home” or have harmless and vaguely sexual “Encounters of the Third Kind.” They want to use your body as fertilizer and ravage your earth. Give them an inch and they will go to town on you.

Moving on. Gather the most innocuous substance you can. This will come in handy. Water, bacteria from a toilet seat, or the song “Indian Love Call” will do fine. Try exposing the aliens to it. Most aliens hate that shit. If this doesn’t work, book it. You are in trouble. Find Will Smith. He has a lot of experience with two different varieties of aliens – comical and slightly less comical. Also, he’s a Scientologist so he’s always ready for this kind of thing. If all else fails, call in a hung over Randy Quaid. He’ll know what to do.

As the great T-Roy once professed, "Never forget." - 7/4/96


Zombie Apocalypse

Run. Run some more. Run somewhere safe. Did you run to a mall or skyscraper? Goddamn, why’d you run there? That’s the worst place you could have gone. With the impending extinction of mankind, I know it’ll be tempting to loot a Claire’s. Do not do this. Fact: zombies love Claire’s.

First things first, determine what type of zombies you’ve got on your hands: 28 Days Later zombies or Walking Dead zombies. If they’re fast zombies, you have two options. One, wait it out and hope they starve. Two, find a cure for the disease. If you go for the second option, it’s best to once again call up your friend Will Smith or a brilliant scientist who also happens to be able to rip a phonebook in half with his bare hands. If they’re slow zombies, do not get surrounded by hordes. Also, develop a weapon of choice: hammer, axe, or thimble. Something distinctive so you look badass while killing zombies and scavenging for food. Repeat this process.

Quick note: if you see a guy who has blood on him, but claims that he got the blood on him from killing so many zombies, he’s lying. He’s infected. Do not be fooled. Get the heck away from that guy.

“I swear, it’s monkey’s blood.” That’s what they all say, Carrie.


Nuclear War

Make friends with Jane Goodall and the apes. Should a nuclear war wipe out the human population while you’re away in space, this will be extremely useful when the apes take over. Begin to repopulate the earth by mating with monkeys. I don’t quite remember what I learned in biology, but this might work. Then again, parapatric speciation might prevent the reconnection between these distant relatives and you’ll end up with something like Harry from Harry and the Hendersons. But hey, it’s a step in the right direction, right? Proceed to go on a whacky adventure that brings you closer together with your “son” or “it” – whatever you prefer to call your hideous offspring.

Even the love child of Jessica Alba and Mighty Joe Young could not overcome the species divide.


Meteor Impact

Instead of creating a squad of capable astronauts that know what they’re doing, compile a team of misfits from a blue-collar industry – oil drillers and cowboys are perfect. Make sure someone on the mission is willing to take one for the team when something goes wrong. Because something will go wrong. Also, get your dad to record a mixtape that really sets the mood. Add a pinch of Steve Buscemi for comical relief.

Natural Disaster

Learn your lesson beforehand, and don’t pollute the environment. Otherwise, we wouldn’t need to be condescendingly shown what our carbon footprint looks like. Because apparently it’s a terrifying 100-foot tall robot made out of nano-everything-eating bacteria. When in doubt, follow Dennis Quaid’s lead. Mental sidenote: the Quaids really come through when the world’s ending.

I like to think that my carbon footprint looks like a North Carolina Tarheel.



Unfortunately, all of these precautions are for zilch since the world is ending in 2012. The Mayans and John Cusack both predicted it, and neither has ever been wrong. It’s sad, really. Not the end of humanity as much as the fact that there’ll never be another World Cup. It makes me even more angry at Ghana.

On that optimistic note,

– Adonal

Vote On Your Favorite Entry

22 Feb


Thanks for reading.

Next week’s prompt: Presidents
(Featuring David as a guest rumbler)