July, 2015:

Cascadiavania: Tsunami of the Tsorrowful

The New Yorker published an article about the Cascadia earthquake and tsunami that’s going to destroy most of the Pacific Northwest sometime in the near future. Quoting from the article, “FEMA projects that nearly thirteen thousand people will die in the Cascadia earthquake and tsunami. Another twenty-seven thousand will be injured, and the agency expects that it will need to provide shelter for a million displaced people, and food and water for another two and a half million.” The tsunami’s height “will vary from twenty feet to more than a hundred feet. It will look like the whole ocean, elevated, overtaking the land. Once it reaches the shore it will be a five-story deluge of pickup trucks and doorframes and cinder blocks and fishing boats and utility poles and everything else that once constituted the coastal towns of the Pacific Northwest.”

Those were just a few excerpts that my wife read to me as I was quietly drifting to sleep the other night. “You have to read this article, but for now, let me select a few of the most horrifying scenarios and get those firmly planted in your brain. Sweet dreams, love you!” It’s all terrifying stuff. The main takeaway is that once you know the thing’s about to hit it’s already too late. Their advice was basically just run. Run where? I don’t know, somewhere that’s not the Pacific Northwest. Maybe it’s all a cunning plan to sell more Fit Bits and Couch to 5K apps… in fact, yes, let’s assume this is all a cunning plan to sell more Fit Bits and Couch to 5K apps and go over some survival techniques that FEMA doesn’t want you to know about.

It is fine. Everything is fine.

It is fine. Everything is fine.

#1 OK But Seriously, You Should Actually Just Run. And I’m not talking, oh shit McDonald’s is about to stop serving breakfast, let me trot to the front of the line and prepare to do battle with a pimply-faced clock-watching teenager. No, you need to RUN, like a Kenyan Sonic the Hedgehog being chased by a 100 foot water wall of death. FEMA advises against grabbing anything important from your house before you start your run, including photo albums, pets, that mug you really like, children, Wrestlemania tapes, spouses, old issues of Nintendo Power… NONE OF IT. Leave it all behind, but…

#2 If You Happen to Have a Gun, Now Would Be a Good Time to Maybe Grab it Just in Case.  I’m not saying the economy in the post apocalyptic Pacific Northwest is going to be bullet-based for a few years, but I’m also absolutely saying that. Also, do you know what happens when you unload a few rounds into a tsunami? Don’t say you do, because you’ve never done it. Maybe you stand on top of a mountain, slam the bullet thing into the bottom of the gun and then pull the thing on top back and line up the shot and BLAMMO. You instagib the goddamn tsunami and save the day. Or, y’know, you rob some bandits at gunpoint for a can of beans. Both equally heroic and necessary. And finally…

#3 There is No Shame in Drowning in Your Own Home, Surrounded By Your Stuff.  Hey, you had a good run. Maybe this tragedy will kickstart some new evolutionary traits. Maybe we’ll finally evolve into screaming half man / half fish bio freaks. We just don’t know. We don’t have the data. But there is plenty of data that shows mother nature is done with us, and she’s going to be crashing on your floor for a while. And in the rest of your house, too. Also inside your car and your favorite strip mall (the one with two Chipotle’s) and pretty much every place you’ve ever been. Sweet dreams, love you!

What do you want to be when you grow up? The answer may surprise you.

When you’re a kid and adults ask “What do you want to be when you grow up?” your answer is limited by the jobs you’re familiar with because you’re young and you’re very stupid. A police officer came to the house yesterday, I want to be a police officer! Big Bird teaches me how to count, I want to be a 7 foot tall bird monster! Dad locks himself in the basement for a few hours every night, I want to be a locksmith! By the time you’re done answering, the adults have already forgotten the question, as they’re in the middle of their third panic attack of the day induced by their own job.

As a child, my first love was baseball, so that was what I wanted to be when I grew up – a professional baseball man. To be honest, I really just loved baseball cards and was so-so on the whole going outside and playing baseball thing. But still I went to the stupid practices and played in the stupid games. My ego was dealt a devastating blow when I was 8 and a ball rocketed into my finger, shattering the bone in my very delicate pinkie. With tears in my eyes I ran to my father in the stands and screamed, “I don’t wanna play baseball anymore,” holding my jacked up hand in front of me like it was on fire. He knelt down, patted me on the head and said, “Well then why don’t you become a fucking ballerina, instead?” Now if this was a really good story I’d rip off my tearaway pants, reveal a pair of leggings and pirouette across your mind’s eye, middle fingers saluting the heavens. Like, “I did it Dad. I did it because of you.” But no. 8 year old me thanked god that neither of my thumbs were broken and continued playing Mario 3.

I want to be a royalty-free stock image when I grow up.

I want to be a royalty-free stock image when I grow up.

Thankfully, we live in a world where you can take a quiz online and figure out what you want to be when you grow up, even if you’re already grown up. No more daydreaming on the side of a hill, looking up at the clouds, pondering your existence. Just answer some questions like “What is your favorite color” and “In a group of six friends, which are you most likely to be.” I answered “white” for both. With a resounding 84%, the internet said that I should become a “criminal.” I’m not sure what the percentage represents, and while I agree with the assessment that I “enjoy the rush of getting down and dirty,” I need a bit more stability and less gunplay in my life. Number two with a bullet was Dare Devil, but I’m not sure if that meant I should become a blind, crime fighting lawyer or some off-brand Evel Knievel, dead and penniless at the bottom of a gorge. I didn’t read the rest of the results because I was distracted by another quiz titled “How Tennessee are y’all,” which, if you’re wondering, I am 34% Tennessee.

In the end, it doesn’t matter what you want to “be” when you grow up, because a job is just a job if you’re lucky enough to have one, but it’s not who you “are.” I mean sure, we all wanted to be Robocop when we grew up, but Robocop was a good man… or at least a good pile of flesh. And all that pile of flesh wanted to do was see his family again and shoot rapists in the dick (nsfw) with a gun that popped out his leg. The point is, I need a way to go back in time and warn my 8 year old self that your job is going to be soul sucking and boring for the rest of your life, and none of your dreams will come true. Get really good at online gambling, maybe invent something like a 3 cent mini nickel or a rake that’s actually two rakes. And when someone asks you what you want to be when you grow up, just say “a good person” or “a fucking ballerina.”

From the makers of the black death it’s MURDERBOX!

Welcome to game night! Oh, I’m just so glad that all of my neighbors are here, we really should have done this sooner. So, what does everyone want to play? Apples to Apples? Cards Against Humanity if anyone’s feeling randy? Jenga? Or, I have a new game that I think everyone’s going to love, especially you Jim, you ol’ so and so. It’s called Murderbox. Oh you guys haven’t heard of it? It was so strange, I was strolling through the woods, and there, in a burned out clearing with strange ancient patterns etched into the ground, I found Murderbox stuck in the middle of a smoking, gnarled tree. It was almost as if it was calling to me. Like maybe, nothing in my life made sense before finding Murderbox. Maybe… I’m the Murderbox. Or something haha, can I get anyone else some more wine? How about you, Linda? I noticed a lot of empty bottles in your recycling, you’re basically an alcoholic, right?

So you guys, Murderbox is a lot like Candyland with a few subtle differences. The game board itself forgoes colorful gumdrop mountains and is instead some kind of hastily stitched leather. Take a look at that Bill, feels kinda like… I mean let’s just say it, it feels like human skin, doesn’t it? Kind of like your gray, nearly transparent old man flesh. There’s a Pop-o-Matic bubble in the middle of the board, it’s useless; most of the time it’s just filled with screaming insects. The goal is to move your team’s crystal pyramid pieces around the board and reach the goal without opening the Murderbox and unleashing its terrible secrets. I should mention that there have been some, how can I say this… “disappearances” that may have been associated with the game. But we should be fine, just don’t make direct eye contact or say anything disparaging about the Murderbox. And look, right there on the box it says fun for ages 1 -100, that’s a hoot.


So let’s get started! Carol and Don, you two go first because you have the most offspring. Loud, screaming offspring. Oh look, you rolled a… some kind of pentagram… thing. Nice! Let’s consult the instructions that are inked in human blood and see what that means. OK so apparently you summoned a Lovecraftian Thousand Headed Old God, which is good Carol and Don because it means you can move three spaces, but also bad Carol and Don because it just tore the fucking moon in half. Tides are going to be pretty weird tonight, that’s for sure! How are we doing on crackers, should I get some more from the kitchen?

OK, your turn Jim and Diane. Jim, why don’t you take off your shirt and don the Shroud of Second Turns, kind of like how you mow the lawn shirtless at 6 in the morning with a t-shirt covering your very large and bald head. Very good. Now Diane, very carefully blow on the incredibly hot dice and roll a winner! Ooh very nice, you rolled a 3 of Skulls which means you get to draw a card. Let’s see… oh. Oh my. It’s the Death card. I’m afraid that means I have to open the Murderbox. Let me just check the instructions… it says, “If the Death card is drawn, the Murderbox must be opened. All players besides the host (that’s me) will be sacrificed. However, there is another way. By keeping a distance of 1,000 feet between yourself and the host (that’s me), and never guilting the host into hosting another game night, Murderbox’s blood thirst will be quenched.” So what do you think guys, should I just open the bo- or, oh ok time to go? Well thanks for coming by it was great seeing you all bye bye bye get out get OUT GET OUT.

You can watch me scream and yell all of my recent posts on AwesomeTalk! It airs every other Tuesday on our YouTube channel, where you can also find past episodes and other psychotic vlog vids.