Need peace, love, and happiness? I have one word: bacon.

Let's face it: pigs haven't done jack shit for society. They're just lazy freeloaders with stuttering problems and an unhealthy obsession to molest Kermit the Frog. But long before Jim Henson's interspecies erotica puppet fest existed, man live amongst the many different species of pigs in perfect harmony. And then got smart and started slaughtering the whole lot of them.

Pictured above: The elusive "Guinea Pig". (I love you Artie Lange)

Yes, bacon has been around since the dawn of man. Legends say that it could very well be older than Keith Richards. Even the term "bringing home the bacon" can be traced back to 12th century England . According to the internets (which is always right), bacon was awarded to a man who impressed the church by not fucking every other, uh, "wench" the man saw. Needless to say, Tiger Woods has no bacon.

Needless to say bacon is still around and better than ever. A slew of bacon related products and uses have blown up in recent times which can answer all of life's questions. Here are bacon's answers to them.

1. Can bacon save the world?! - Abso-fucking-lutely.

"He has only forbidden to you dead animals, blood, the flesh of swine, and that which has been dedicated to other than Allah . But whoever is forced [by necessity], neither desiring [it] nor transgressing [its limit], there is no sin upon him. Indeed, Allah is Forgiving and Merciful."

Pictured above: Muhammad, the Prophet.

That is the best picture I can get of the author without getting my head chopped off by some unsavory characters in Kabul. Yes, the Quran strictly prohibits the eating of pork by all Muslims. Maybe that's why they hate us so much? Instead of dropping fuel-air bombs on Baghdad, can't we just start bombing them with wholesome, delicious Applewood bacon? Who can fight when there is so much happiness in a single strip of slaughtered pig belly? Boom, done. World peace. Send my Nobel Peace Prize in the mail bitches. I'm not coming to pick it up. Next question.

2. Can bacon give me a better outlook on my life? - Yes.

America is full of drunk fatass slobs which is the perfect demographic to market a horrible idea toward. So of course chil'ren, some genius who definitely gets paid more than me came up with the bright idea to take a smooth, potato based vodka and infuse the shit with bacon.

Main demographic: The Hoff.Get the man a bottle of this shit and a burger!


They even have a drink recipe called "The Elvis" utilizing the flavor of the bacon vodka. It goes excellent with a peanut butter and banana sandwich. You will be found dead on the toilet by the end of the night. Too soon for a dead Elvis joke?It's called "Bakon" and it's in a shady packie near you. http://bakonvodka.com/. You're welcome. Now everyone will look attractive and smell like cooked swine. Wait, swine? Is that what bacon wine is called?

3. Can I wear bacon? - Yes. Just ignore the pack of dogs following your every move unless of course you're Cesar Millan. In that case, jump off a bridge.

I'm no fashion expert. I get up in the morning and say "Do I have to wear pants today or can I just say fuck it and flash my balls around town?". Yes, I am the Calvin Klein of the bachelor world. However folks, the future is now. I bring you bacon fashion.

These kids are manlier than you.

Type "bacon fashion" into google and have your credit cards ready! I have found everything from bacon tuxes that those 3 little white children are modeling (thanks Chels!), bacon shoes, earrings, and the best yet: bacon bras (you know that was a dude's idea). "Damn, my meat looks good on you!". Who has never wanted to take a girl home, rail her Ron Jeremy style, and then serve her own bra to her as breakfast?

Really...? I'm the only one? You guys suck.

4. Can bacon have medical uses? - Umm, sure. Why not.

I am in fact a doctor, just the wrong type of doctor. Me and my crack team of medical professionals have tested multiple medicinal uses for said pork products.

Pictured above: a medical professional.

For one, our studies show that consuming 50 pounds of bacon or more can cause what we call in my prestigious medical community as a "dumb ass idea". The effects of which can be compared to fucking a live grizzly bear: it's going to be awesome for about 5 seconds, but you're sure as hell going to regret it after it kills you. Eating raw bacon is also frowned upon unless the swine was tested for no less than two STD's. speaking of that, bacon has also been shown to prevent testicular cancer in females.

A better idea: cover your festering wounds with these: http://www.mcphee.com/shop/products/Bacon-Bandages.html. The only bad thing is they are in fact not real bacon. Will that help the healing process? Who the hell cares? It's bacon.

5. Can I kill people with bacon? - This is getting ridiculous.

Say hello to my little friend!

Seriously, only in this country. I guess that makes it a yes.

After spending a few hours researching this ridiculous crap I have realized that marketing companies are clearly hiring people like me. Any other questions? I'm sure I can answer them, with or without the help of bacon.

Now Showing: Hopefully Never.

2009 and 2010 has seen an assload of 3D movies completely wreck the box office sales. If you're one of the millions of people who saw "Avatar" or one of the insane Tim Burton followers who watched "Alice in Wonderland", you know how impressive this technology can be. However, we live in a society where we have to ruin and whore out every great piece of technology we have (iPad, internet I'm looking at you). That is why I bring you:

Top 10 movies that should never be re-made into 3D.

(In no particular order)

10. Casablanca - The cigarette just seems to dance right on the corner of Bogart's mouth! Oh, the coolness! You can just see Sam's dark, chocolate hands swoop down to hit those keys! Oh, the subtle racism! Sounds like it would get old fast? That's what I thought.

9. Deliverence - I'm not even going there...

8. Any porno ever! - Really, there is no need to see a money shot in that much detail, especially when it's coming straight for your forehead. "I can actually see the C-section scars!" Excuse while I go grab my brain soap and clear those images from my mind.

7. Twilight - The only way Robert Pattinson could look more like a bag full of douches is if his pale ass was sparkling in the wonder of 3D. And yet the cult-like following of teenage girls and people disconnected with reality will flock to this pile of shit.

6. Battlefield Earth - 3D will not make this movie better. Megan Fox in a bikini and waxing a banana in every shot couldn't help this movie. In fact, if this movie is ever 3D, a gigantic hole will tear in the very fabric of space and time.

5. It - Yes, that 4 hour long movie where Tim Curry plays an insanely creepy clown. There is no way in hell I'm sitting in a chair while a killer clown reaches out of a sewer and pops off the screen. Mark my words: I would shit my pants.

4. Gigli - Ooooh yeah! J Lo's ass in 3D? SCORE! But Ben Affleck and J Lo's acting coming straight at your face? Sounds awesome, right?

3. (Insert Nicholas Sparks movie here) - Because the only way to heighten girls' expectations of their boyfriends is to put it in realistic, eye-popping 3D. Prepare to be disappointed in reality ladies.

2. Precious - Okay, I'll hold off on the fat jokes. 3D is a HUGE deal but I'm not sure if I really see the BIG picture. The last movie that featured a large black chick in a racially driven role was Mo'Nique. That ended pretty well, right?

1. The Passion of the Christ - Picture this: you walk into a theater to watch the gut-wrenching, overly-emotional, 50 hours of "The Passion". On the screen is a bloody, bearded man getting hit with a whip and nailed to a cross. You look to the right and you see a bunch of idiots with those stupid glasses on. Catch my drift? Please, we don't need the Jews feeling anymore guilty, do we?

Yes, I naturally pump my fist to the rhythm of music...

...so what? That's one stereotypical thing. And yes, I broke the my usual boundaries and decided to take up an offer to go "raving". I mean, it was either that or spend the day killing hookers or curing cancer.

Yes, raving, that thing most teenagers do when they drop acid, tell their parents to go fuck themselves, go to a club, and listen to 3 hours of music that some guy made at 3 in the morning in the Czech Republic. But hey, if Moby made a career out of it, I might as well check it out.

The day begins shortly after my last class. If I have to write up one more excel sheet on how many units of insulin to give granny, I'm going to put my head through the screen. I am an adderall/caffeine infused machine of pure energy and I'm ready to go out and make an ass out of myself. And why not? I'm young, I'm stupid, and I have prescription drugs. I am invincible!

Finally, I'm out of that hell-hole and me, the Jew, and the Black Man are on our merry way to D.C. with Howard Stern keeping us company the whole time. Man, I love that guy. You see, we were on our way to see a guy named Armin Van Buuren, and really the only time I listen to trance is when I speed in my car. So, screw it. Why not?

Fast forwarding, fast forwarding, fast forwarding....We arrive at the club and I look damn sexy. Like if Humphrey Bogart and Joe Pesci were somehow able to conceive a child and then said child got mauled by a velociraptor.

At this point, things weren't looking good. I thought I died somewhere in northern Virginia and went to hell, which looked a lot like an Express catalog. We then proceeded to be searched for weapons which involved a large black man patting down my skinny, Italian ass and confiscating the clip on my keychain. Yeah, that's a weapon if I'm MacGyver.

I walk into a huge bar (which I can't drink from) and enter a room with bass so loud, Dr. Dre would shit his pants. This is where the fun begins...

Enter the rave, through my eyes:

"Hmm, dress code? Why is that chick wearing a bra and fishnets? And where the hell did she get fishnets that big? And if I were stuck on an island, could I actually catch fish with them? I mean, how ca----oh my god, boobs..." Maybe this trip was going to be better than I thought.

I'm starting to loosen up. Yeah, I'm cool. Who's cool? I'm cool. Fucking right conscience, fucking right. Awkward dancing starts. Thinking too hard into it is always the first mistake and I'm thinking way too hard. I must look like a paraplegic trying to play soccer. Just as I lose my awkward white-boy rhythm, I see two mutants dry humping in front of me.

"Oh man! Stay out of my bubble. Stay the FUCK OUT OF MY BUBBLE!" I mentally shouted.
If these two get any closer, this might count as a threesome. Somebody was getting pregnant and it was looking like me. I make my way through the crowd. I stumble in front of a very large, very gay dude who is obviously on something. Or everything.

At that very moment, a sharp, skunk like smell hit me right in the face. Someone was smoking a joint. A very, very big joint at that. I guess I was in the right spot. Potheads usually aren't that annoying, right? Wrong.

Fast forward an hour. At this point, I'm Private Snowball in Full Metal Jacket. One more person shoves a glowstick in my face, I'm going to punt it up their ass and proceed to kick the crap out of them so they drop glowing green deuces for months. I thought it was best to find another spot. I'm a peaceful man, right?

I move back a little. Maybe the normal people are in the back. Oh, was I wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I am greeted by two of the most Asian people I have ever seen. Seriously, I might as well have been looking at two gay pandas. One seemed sober while the other....wasn't. The guy was holding on for dear life to the back of Asian #1's shirt. Asian #2 seemed to be half ass dancing to the music while staring off into the magical strobe lights. I look over at the Jew. He simply puts his arms together in the shape of an "X".

"Ecstacy? Oh man. If this dude starts humping my leg or something, I'm going to jail." Yes, I talk to myself a lot. No, I don't care; I'm a good listener.

The Asians continue to trip balls and continue to shove me in some little fairy dance/mating ritual they have going on. I decide to move before I lodge my Blackberry down Asian #2's throat. I move to the back of the room. Jew's like a kid in a candy store. Black Man, not so much. I'm in my own little world dancing like some new age Travolta. I'm minding my own business when all of a sudden, a MILF decides to post up in front of me. An epic battle of my two consciouses then occurs:

"Holy hell. That is the definition of a MILF. I should totally move my crotch up 2 inches so I can dance with her." - Stupid me.

"No dude, she probably has kids" - Smart-ish me.

"Shut the fuck up conscious, who asked you?" - Stupid me.

"Uh, you always ask me, that's how it works." - Smart-ish me.

"Yeah, but look at her. Do you really want to deny me this?" - Stupid me.

The Jew looks over. Grinning as if to say "if you dance with that cougar, I will never stop making fun of you". That's enough for me to back the hell off, even with her booty shaking advances. Sometimes, I think I deserve to have my penis removed...

I'm not sure if it was the insane amount of reefer smoke in the air or the loud, repetitive bass hypnotizing me, but I was a dancing machine. I was happier than Ellen DeGeneres in a carpet store (please, don't make me explain this joke people). My eyes stung with a mixture of sweat and melted hair product and I really didn't care. The party went on till 2:30 a.m. where I called it quits. My ass was out of there. A sane man can only take so much.

Notes: 1. I should have danced with the MILF

2. Potheads are annoying

3. I'm never taking X

4. Black people hate white people who can't dance

5. I'm totally doing that again

The Fine Line Between Culture and Traffic Cones.

Please, take a moment to laugh at the tools. ------>



"So God created man in his own image,
in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them." - Genesis 1:27, from some book called "the bible??"



The argument of creationism vs. evolution has been going on for a longer time than Law & Order has been on television and may cause a greater divide in society than, umm, Pepsi vs. Coke? Yeah, let's go with that.


And yet, one show completely blows the religious argument out of the friggin water: Jersey Shore. Yes, you read that correctly. Jersey Shore is proof that God does not exist. If God created man in his image, we've all been praying to a relatively short man with a very orange complexion, a taste for horrible techno music, and the inability to take less than 20 minutes to do his hair. That whole "God did something and he sees things and we should do stuff" argument is for another blog. Right now, I'm talking about the recently popular Guido stereotype.



You see, there is fine line between being "Guido" and being "Italian-American". As I am mixed breed between Italian and a slew of random-ass Eastern European countries, I'm taking the liberty of clearing this right up. You see, not all Italians are walking, talking, greasy traffic cones. Just look at Super Mario, the hardest working Italian man ever. Does your plumber murder turtles, pop hallucinogenic mushrooms, and chase some blonde bitch around in his spare time? Yeah, I didn't think so.



The term "Guido" was normally used to describe overly manly, hairy men from Newark. Basically, Carl from Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Legend says, it spiked in popularity in the 1970's, along with ABBA, IROC Camaros, and pet rocks.
Jesus Cristo, the '70's were a terrible decade...


Now, because the judge ordered me to do at least 20 hours of community service for actually sitting through Pootie Tang (twice), I'm going to list some symptoms of Guidoism:

1. Excessive orange skin pigment and/or a spray tan addiction. Was the Fonz orange? I don't think so.

2. Use of the terms or phrases "it's a lifestyle", "hater", "this is my jam", and "bro" in excessive amounts.

3. Excessive amounts of hairstyling time. Seriously, if you're spending more time on your hair than everyone in Poison, I'm going to give you a god damned crew cut.

4. Rapid and spontaneous flexing of the muscles. Sometimes accompanied by loud grunting noises.

5. The use of any and all Ed Hardy apparel and excessive use of a wife beater, mostly worn 2 sizes too small.

6. Gang signs in pictures. You know, the douchebags with the sideways peace sign and the pouty lips? Yeah, that guy.

7. Mass amounts jewelery. Like enough to make Mr. T say "That's just stupid".

8. Listening to ridiculous techno music that only you and your bros think is cool.

9. The sudden and spontaneous urge to fist pump to said techno music. Seriously, why in the hell has this become a stereotype?

10. Participation in date rape and/or starting fights to help your self esteem.

If you or a loved one suffers from 3 or more of these symptoms, contact your local Real World and Jersey Shore recruitment office immediately.


So, just to review, if you look like this: http://www.ebaumsworld.com/pictures/view/951790/
you are doing for us normal Italians what BET did for black folk and what Two Girls, One Cup did for chocolate ice cream.