July, 2014:

Take Exit 143 towards Flavor Town

Jul 30th, 2014
by John.
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The New Jersey Turnpike Authority is HOPPING MAD about service mark infringements! A pizza chain in Florida co-opted the Garden State Parkway logo, slapped their name on it, and are getting sued to Hell and back for their crimes. Is nothing sacred, Jersey Boardwalk Pizza? Before the days of GPS, there was nothing more reassuring than a green Parkway or Turnpike sign. Even if was just a sign that said PARKWAY, 20 miles in the other direction, at least you knew you were on the right track. And here comes Jersey Boardwalk Pizza, waltzing in here, stealing our signs, making a mockery of our roadways.

Now you’re probably thinking, “Who cares? It’s just a sign.” You’re probably sitting there, arms crossed, like, “I love pizza, I love signs, I hate freedom, what’s the scoop here John?” Well ladies and gentlemen, I’m here to tell you that this is not actually about infringement, it’s about highway safety.

WHAT EXIT ARE YOU, PIZZA?

WHAT EXIT ARE YOU, PIZZA?

Let’s set the scene. You’re lost. You were just trying to get some sweet corn from a roadside stand in central Jersey, but you accidentally drove 1500 miles south across 5 states. Once you reach the Florida Keys, the realization that you have absolutely no idea where the fuck you are begins to set in. “WE’RE NOT LOST” you scream at your children in the backseat, who have not looked up from their devices since this trip started 24 hours ago. Just as you’re about to drive your family into the Atlantic, submerging them and their memories of your subpar navigation skills, you see the sign. The old familiar green and yellow Garden State Parkway sign. “You see? YOU SEE!? I TOLD YOU WE’RE NOT LOST!” you scream at your blissfully unaware and above-water children. You follow the arrows… but instead of a toll booth, you crash your minivan straight into the dining room of Jersey Boardwalk Pizza, the Florida pizza establishment. “Hey is this a highway or a restaurant?” you ask the owner, who is now pinned to the wall underneath an 8×10 photo of The Sopranos signed by the guy that played AJ. He’s coughing up blood all over your fender, you’re just trying to figure out if they take EZ Pass or not.

This is the scenario that the New Jersey Turnpike Authority is trying to avoid. And who can blame them? Do you think GPS satellites can penetrate the thick fog of malaise and Disney mind control chemicals that blanket Florida? Hell no, directions down there are delivered the old fashioned way, straight from chewing tobaccee-filled mouths and punctuated with racial slurs. You need all the help you can get navigating through Florida, and these signs are confusing, dangerous, and they must be stopped.

So just change your name, Jersey Boardwalk Pizza, it’s real simple. Something subtle that would still look good on a sign. Something like Dangerous Roadwork Ahead Pizza. Drive Like Your Kids Live Here Italian Eatery. Vincenzo’s Speed Limit Enforced by Aircraft Pasta Dump. Just whatever you do, please leave the parkway out of it.

You can watch me scream and yell all of my recent posts on AwesomeTalk! It airs every other Tuesday at justin.tv/aweseometalktv or constantly on our YouTube channel.

Do we hold these truths to be self-evident? The answer may surprise you.

Jul 2nd, 2014
by John.
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So get a load of this: I spent the last two weeks researching this topic, and you know those headlines where it’s like, “Do you know the answer to this seemingly mundane question? The answer may surprise you?” Well that was me. The answer surprised me. The question was this: How do other countries celebrate the Fourth of July. And much like a bowling ball being dropped off an overpass onto my windshield, or the ending of the movie Seven, the answer surprised me. Other countries do not celebrate the Fourth of July.

I go batshit ballistic for seasonal decor sales.

I go batshit ballistic for seasonal decor sales.

What the fuck is that all about? I thought the world was getting smaller. I thought we were all learning to respect each other’s beliefs and ways of life. I mean, we showed up for the World Cup. We got matching uniforms, we spelled our last names correctly on the back – we’re at least trying to take part in things that we don’t really understand. The least you could do is take a break from your free healthcare and superior rail systems and walk a mile in our shoes – which are awesome by the way. Our shoes can sync up with our phones and tell us how many steps we’ve taken, and can vibrate every few minutes to wake us up if we slip into a coma. WE thought of that, OK?  But shout out to China for stitching the shoes together, we couldn’t have done it without you. There, see how easy that was? Respecting other countries. Try it sometime, rest of the world! It’s the Fourth of July, man! Shoot off an M80 in your five-thousand-year-old palazzo. Make just enough money to drive to work and back every day. Y’know, do something American!

And who wouldn’t want to emulate our 4th of July rituals? Drunk as hell, cooking meat outside, shooting off illegal fireworks, frantically filling red solo cups with bald eagle tears to extinguish our white picket fences as patriotic embers rain down on us. The rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air, etcetera. We’re all wearing pristine white undershirts with packs of cigarettes rolled up in our sleeves, we’re playing stick ball in a sepia-toned dead-end street in Brooklyn during The Great Depression, we’re having a cardiac arrest in the Mall of America parking lot, WHY AREN’T OTHER COUNTRIES CELEBRATING HOW AWESOME WE ARE?

John Adams knew what was up. When congress approved the declaration of independence, he wrote to his wife Abigail and said that this will be the most memorable time in the history of America. That it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as a great anniversary festival with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, companies denying birth to control to women, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more.

Granted, he was referring to the second of July, the date the resolution of independence was approved, but whatever, dates barely existed in the 1700’s. There was like one guy with a rudimentary understanding of time, and you had to send him a carrier pigeon asking him what day it was. That’s America to me. Writing “what the hell day is it” on a scroll and stapling it to a pigeon and just hopin’ for the best. Will that sweet pidge ever return? The answer may surprise you.

You can watch me scream and yell all of my recent posts on AwesomeTalk! It airs every other Tuesday at justin.tv/aweseometalktv or constantly on our YouTube channel.