Some of you may or may not know, but it has long been said that the athlete who would appear on the cover of Madden NFL would generally suffer from a horrible season for their respective year.  Well ladies and germs, I present to you the cover of Madden NFL 2009.  Brett Favre (a.k.a. the God of Football) retired last year after an almost flawless season.  Brett Favre now owns practically every major quarterback record (including interceptions), will be a shoe-in for the hall of fame, and will be remembered as one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time.  My point?  There is no possible way that he could have a bad season in 2009 if he never plays.  Thus, the Madden cover curse is officially broken.

   Until next time, good luck with life.

Kunoichi and ninjas, lately, you've probably heard rumors about an underground battle being waged in the pancake-breakfast-industry. I just want to clear up your fears. These rumors are true.

Unfortunately, rather than just getting out those massive gigantic marshmallow punching gloves to duke it out, or playing a sissy-ass game of chess (which is for dweebs), or duel with pistols at thirty paces, these two superpowers choose to have an election. The winner of the election basically rules the world. The loser gets shoved into a woodchipper like Steve Buscemi.

And these two massive forces of nature are:

Aunt Jemima
Weight: 8 Oz
Weapon of choice: Machete
Favorite animal: Armadillo
Martial art style: Face-smash fu
Random fact: Aunt Jemima kills a kitten everytime you masturbate.

Campaign slogan: "Oh no she di-int!"

VS

Mrs. Butterworth
Weight: 8 Oz
Weapon of choice: That yo-yo thing that the school girl used in "Kill Bill"
Favorite animal: Swordfish
Martial art style: Whatever Stephen Chow does
Random fact: Mrs. Butterworth once won a spelling bee for the deaf.

Campaign slogan: "Aunt Jemima ain't shit!"

If elected, Aunt Jemima promises the following:  "I will buy ray-ray one of those little cars that the kids these days are driving. I will get rid of all the taxes in the country and replace them with hugs. I know where bin Laden is. He's hiding in France. I will go to France personally, hit him with the BEAR MACE and cuff his ass. I also will replace all the national monuments with giant cheese wheels. Finally, I will smother your pancakes with my innards. Vote for real-ass change that that motherfuckers can believe in."

If elected, Mrs. Butterworth promises the following: "First off, I plan to invade Cuba, and after bombing the shit out their jive-turkey asses, I plan to bring back Tupac and all those really snazzy cigars they got over there. I will solve that middle east shit. Truss me. Axe yourself this: Do you think they'd be fighting if they had a big plate of pancakes? No, I didn't think so. I will fix that situation. Plus, I will drench your pancakes with the goo that is inside my body. Remember, Aunt Jemima ain't shit!"

********************

Your Questions and my Answers:

Q: Uhm, what the hell?

A: Get out.

Q: Can we vote for Bosco?

A: What the hell is wrong with you?

Q: What's the best way to counter Protoss carriers as the Zerg?

A: Wow, that's a fucking stupid question. You build a group of scourges. Make sure you have your spore colonies protecting your hive, or they'll come in from behind cloaked and fuck up your shit. So then, you build like, 24 scourges, assign them into groups of 6 each. Then, select each group, assign it to a carrier, then quickly pick the next group, deploy it to the next carrier. Repeat. If you haven't built a spire by the time they have a stargate, then you need to kill yourself.

Q: What is the meaning of life?

A: To serve me.

Okay, that's enough dumb questions.

Alright, voters, who is it going to be?

   Because it contains no bull

    Okay, so here's your situation.  You have this sweet ride (with... er, "graffiti" on the side):

    The problem is, your sweet ride can only go into 4th gear (can't go into 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 5th, or reverse) because the transmission is totally busted.  Also, this sweet ride happens to be 300 miles away from where you now live.  The car is in theory, totaled.  It wasn't in an accident, but the cost of repairing the transmission could easily be more than the car itself is worth.  You hate bumming rides to work, and you really need a form of transportation.  So what do you do?  You refer to:

    Eadie's Guide to Moving your Broken Car (Specifically designed for the very commonly occurring situation mentioned above).

    So your biggest issue is to get yourself a set of wheels, fortunately for your unlucky ass, you have several options:

    Option 1:  Poor man's teleportation

    You bought the car for the overpriced amount of two thousand dollars (not including all the money you have spent on sound systems and repairs already), a smart person would buy it from you right now for about half that cost, and you could potentially squeeze about fifteen hundred out of it from a stupid person.  What you would want to do is ask your parents (who are in possession of the jalopy) to sell the car for you.  With this money, you could buy yourself an equally crappy car, but at least the 300 mile gap would have magically disappeared!
    Important notes: 
    >Please do not purchase or sell any vehicles to a Mexican who barely speaks English, they will try to take advantage of you and you will end up getting ripped off.
    >Also, please do not lie to a redneck about any issues affecting the car's value.  They will find you, shoot you, and kill you.

    Option 2:  Drive it

    Remember, the car is not completely immobile, 4th gear is fully functional.  Remember, when this happened, you were 30 minutes out of San Antonio about to make the 5 hour drive to Fort Worth, you already drove between there once in 4th gear, you can get it started, just don't park at the bottom of any hills and you'll be fine.  The problem with this?  This method is extremely unreliable, inefficient, and incredibly stupid.  A 1990 Geo Tracker cannot carry a 12 oz. coconut... oops, I mean cannot get more than 50 mph in 4th gear without creating serious wear and tear on  your engine and your gas budget.

    Option 3:  Tow it

    Go with your fiance's brother (who loves rap music) to the destination, acquire a tow dolly from U-Haul, and go on a day trip to hell.  I guarantee that at no during the 10 hours it will take you to get there and back, and not including the time you will spend bickering and arguing about not only how it should be done, but what your cut of the gas money is going to be, will you be having even the slightest drop of fun.

    Option 4:  Blow it up

    The easiest and most tempting option.  Frees you of all your worries and gives you a pretty sight to look at.  Make sure you remove you favorite mix CDs and all your speakers and valuable equipment from the car before performing this task, you'll thank yourself for that.  The biggest problem with this option is that you still won't have a set of wheels.

    Until next time, good luck with life!

So what if he's better looking than me?  So what if she knows how to push all his buttons.  So what if he's more obedient than I am?  Sure, sure, he can make her laugh much easier than me, he can make her smile whenever he wants.  Are these legitimate reasons for her to choose him over me?  I can be funny to sometimes.  Sure, maybe I'm a little bit harder to figure out... maybe I come up short in some ways.  But what did I do to deserve this?
    Oh, and what makes matters worse?  She's not afraid to do this DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF ME.  We could be lying there, just all nice and cozy having a great time, when all of a sudden she has decided I just can't cut it for her and she decides to try to turn him on instead.  Naturally this always works.  Sure, she can turn me on whenever she wants, but this guy is lightning fast, and I just don't stand a chance.  It's really not fair.
    Sometimes, I hang out with him when she's not around.  I'm not really trying to be that nosy, I just want to figure out his style.  Honestly, I've stopped caring what they do when they are alone together.  I just focus on trying to pick up a few things from him (maybe a joke or two, or just an interesting story).  Anyways, I'll find something out, or I'll pick up on a good laugh, but when I try to tell them to her, I guess it just doesn't come off the same way he can do it.  I don't know if it's my timing or delivery, but somehow, he's always perfect, and I seldom am.  It especially hurts when I will be talking to her, trying to be as sweet and generous as I could possibly be, and we would be hanging out with him at the time, and she will actually tell me to shut up when she decides she wants to listen to him instead.
    What's a guy to do?  I can't help but feel totally rejected.  I don't know if I should just give up on this whole relationship, or just give in and make it some kind of three way thing.  Of course, ordinarily, you all would tell me that I'm crazy and that I should totally "drop that crazy lady right away because of what she's doing to me."  But honestly, I just love her too much to allow myself to lose her.  My goal is to just keep trying harder to see if I can find a way to impress her just a little bit more than he can.  If I could be just a little more reliable.  If I could be just a little funnier.  If I could be just a little more informative.  I simply wish I could find something, anything to give myself the edge over him, my competition.
    I love her so much, but it's so heartrending when she lets him come between us, when she spends time alone with him away from me, when she would rather tune me out and tune him in.  One day I'll pick up on his strategy, you'll see.  You'll come back and say "hey, Eadie!  Good job, you did what you wanted to do, you edged out that android, that 'Mr. Perfect', you beat the odds.  You are an inspiration to us Eadie, you showed us that the underdogs still have a chance, that humble people like us can still make a difference."  Yeah, that will be the day.
    Until that time comes, I'm going to have to find a way to cope with her new crush but still keep her attention primarily on me.  I want to prove to her that I'm still the man.

    Until next time, good luck with life.

    p.s. (yes, it's a T.V.)

    It was nothing like I could have ever expected.  I deffinitely had not known her for nearly as long as many of those gathered around had known her, but I still deffinitely felt a strong connection to her.  No, I did not literally watch her go from a state of breathing to a state of non-breathing, I actually missed it by a couple of hours (she passed away at 4a.m. yesterday, I left the center where she was resting at 1:30a.m.  She had been suffering from the dissease Multiple Sclurosis now for many years, and the time had come for her pain to cease.  This is the story of my experience.  It is not funny, and it is not satirical or sarcastic.  It is raw, unprepared, and thrown together.  I am not posting it here as any form of plea, but simply as a means of letting it out.  Sympathy is appreciated, but not nescessary.

    The brother of my fiance has some form of bi-polarity.  He is not officially diagnosed as bi-polar, but he deffinitely has very extreme changes in mood and contradicts himself during these swings, being your best friend one momment, and then yelling at you and telling you how much he hates you mere minutes later.  He invited me, my fiance, and some friends over for a get to gether the night before.  No sooner had everyone arrived, he began getting extremely emotional (most likely triggered by some realization about his dying mother) and began a tyraid.  He is 19 years old, somewhere between 250-300lbs, mexican, and adopted.  He began screaming at the top of his lungs and treating people with an aluminium baseball bat in his hand.  The group of us were able to talk him down (sort of) to the point where he left the room, at which time we all left to go our seperate directions.  Me and Amber went to the hospice center where her mom was being held and where her father was spending the night.  This was around 1a.m. on April 24th. 
    Her brother had already come into contact with her father and thus her father was already in a horrible mood.  He was originally quite angry at Amber because he felt that she had somehow provoked her brother's behavior and at first offered her very little comfort.  Eventually however, he decided that it would be best if the two of us didn't stay at their house that night for fear of what her brother may do, so she called up a close friend of hers who consulted with her mother and decided that they would allow us to spend the night at their house.  When we arrived there, it was close to 2:30a.m.
    They were unbelievably welcoming and gave us clothes to sleep in and a hot shower, and a VERY cozy bed.  We were both originally quite skeptical at how much sleep we would actually be able to get, but were both pleasantly surprised by one of the best sleeps we had had in a very long time.  The next morning, coffee and breakfast where ready for us and we left to go back to her house at around 11:30a.m.
    We were only home for a couple of hours, during which time her dad had returned home claiming that he would spend the night at his house this time to see if he could get some long awaited sleep.  (Spending three straight nights at a hospice facility sleeping on a couch next to your dying wife would not be easy for anybody).  Almost no sooner than he arrove at his house, he recieved a call from the care center informing him that she had just taken a turn for the worst.  Vital signs had dropped significantly, and things looked like she wouldn't last much longer.  Everybody dropped what they were doing and headed straight for the medical center.  When Amber and I got there, it was around 3:30p.m.
    Every single family member of hers was in her room around her bed.  There were donuts, tamales, cookies, and drinks scattered around the room, indicating that people were ready to be here as long as it would take.  Watching her breathe was close to the most unbearable thing I could possibly imagine.  The effort she had to put forth for every breath made me so incredibly conscious of my own breathing and my own heart... of my own life.  Her heart rate was through the roof, pumping furiously to retain what little blood pressure she actually had left.  The fluid that had entered her lungs made a gargling sound with every breath, and the sound of decompressing oxygen from a machine at her side gave us all a fair warning of when her next breathe would be.
    Three different priests visited her bedside, and I'll be damned if that woman didn't go straight to heaven when she died.  She had been obsolved of her sins so many times that day that she probably worked up a little credit just in case she lasted longer than we expected.  Some of the relatives remarked that they felt like robots while reciting the prayers because it didn't come from the heart, but was simply what they were expected to say.  I was slightly disturbed by this because I felt that if they really wanted to, thay they could think about what they were saying and actually let the prayers come from their heart.  It was around 7p.m. when the family decided to take her off of the oxygen.
    By 11p.m. the only people left in the room were me, Amber, one of her sisters, and her husband.  Her face was deathly pale, her eyes were sunk deep into her sockets, though the lids remained sligtly open.  Her mouth was stuck in a wide-open almost frowning position, and her body lay limp around her.  For the most part, the only movement was of her lungs reaching into the sky for a breath, and her sternum vibrating furiously from the beating of her heart.  She was on plenty of morphine and drugs and we were told that she was currently experiencing no pain.  (The nurses said that if we saw wrinkles in the forehead, that that was the sign she was in pain).  No, the person in the room experiencing the most pain was the man in the chair at her side with his hands wrapped around hers.  Her husband, watching the love of his life fade away, not even conscious anymore of his existance.  Amber and I left around 1:30a.m. on April 25th.  We arrived back at her house around 2p.m.  I probably got about an hour's worth of sleep before her brother came into my room and told me that his mother had died.
    I don't know why, but I never cry anymore, I haven't in years, and I wonder what it will take to make me ever cry again.

    Until next time, good luck with life.

   So lately, my inbox has been filled with hundreds of requests for the fulfillment of erotic fantasies, that sadly, I cannot deliver.  Sure, there is the obvious reason that I am taken, and I wouldn't ever cheat on my fiance even for a simple Xangafair.  But more importantly, there is the reason of my penis-troll.  I don't know how many of you have seen the movie Clerks II, but there is a character in it who claims that his girlfriend's parents inserted a "pussy-troll" named Pillowpants inside of her that was disabling her from being sexually active.  I would first off like to totally refute this claim, because I am quite sure that pussy trolls do not exist and are purely fictional.  Secondly though, I would like to mention that my penis-troll is definitely real.  This is what it looks like...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

    There he is, guardian of my virginity, enforcer of my abstinence.  You wanna get to me, you gotta get through him first, and he clearly doesn't like to be messed with.  Also, you don't wanna know what he does with that stick in his hand, so just keep yours away from my pecker.  So before I get any further requests, please understand that if I turn you down, it's nothing personal, in fact it is for your own good.

    Until next time, good luck with life.

    Ah, cigarettes, there's nothing quite like them.  They're legal, they're expensive, they're full of enough toxins to fix your house's mice problem, and they are as addicting as tetris.  So with so many positive attributes, why is it that so many people are launching all these anti-smoking campaigns?  (some of which are pretty retarded, see example at right) It just doesn't make sense.  Okay, enough sarcasm (I've been having problems with that lately I guess).  I'll get more to the point now and I'll stop trying to fill you with mediocre satire about racism, sex, and global peace.  So I will cut all the malarkey satire for now and talk about all the serious reasons why you should smoke cigarettes, and let all you people know that I can be a serious person too.

    First of all, let's talk about the pleasure of smoking an (affectionately named) "cancer stick".  The first time you light one of these guys up, it will immediately taste like ash and tar.  That's okay though, because eventually, you will get used to the ash and tar taste and will eventually only taste the tobacco.  As for negative consequences?  Psh, the initial lighting of the cigarette and first puff are really the worst parts.  After that, you have pretty much inhaled the most lethal stuff that it has.  But the buzz, OOOHH the buzz.  We're talking about almost mildly pure bliss that lasts about 3 minutes.  Then comes the relaxation, and the stress relief, and a sense of satisfaction.

    Also, it is important that if you want to get the full enjoyment out of cigarettes as soon as possible, you should start at a young age.  I don't mean 11 or 12, I'm talking 5 or 6.  This gives you enough time to start working on developing this special dark film in your lungs.  This black coating is a special chemical that your body naturally builds up that helps immunize you from the "bad effects" of smoking.  That, and you will have more time to work yourself into the financial hole that cigarettes so greedily lead you into.  But let's not sweat the small stuff.

    Sneaky anti-smoking agencies also would like to make you think that tobacco companies don't care about the health of their consumers and just want to get people hooked on their product.  This is not true.  Sure, there are tons of horrible chemicals and lethal agents contained in a single cigarette, but that's what filters are for.  A cigarette with a filter on it is COMPLETELY safe from the consumption of any toxins or carcinogens. 

    The Statistics:

    >  230,032,123 smokers do not die of cigarette smoke every day.
    >  1 in 2 smokers think it's cool to smoke and you are not cool if you don't.
    >  Teacher don't fill me up with your rules, cause everybody knows that smoking ain't allowed at school - Motley Cru: Smoking in the Boy's Room (great song)
    >  1 out of ever 5 teens will smoke and be happy
    >  3 people are actually reborn every year due to cigarette smoke (anti-smoking advertisements don't tell you that one)
    >  Some people can quit smoking whenever they want.

   Anyways, smoking is also good for our economy.  Everybody knows that tobacco companies are big business.  Just think, the more people smoke, the more demand there will be for the companies, and the more people will have jobs.  The workers at tobacco companies never hurt anybody.  Give them a break and pick up a cig.

    Until next time, good luck with life.

     p.s.: so it wasn't the best entry ever, but hey, hopefully a few more of you all will pick up smoking now.

    Okay, many of you are quite aware that my last post sparked a little bit of trouble.  I threw around some discriminatory words, and used a plethora of stereotypes all of which centered around racy content.  Obviously I would have to be stupid to not expect a wide range of reactions to such words, and truth be told, the reason why I created the post was in part to see what kind of reactions it was going to receive.  Believe it or not, I wasn't actually looking for a line between those who "got it" and those who didn't.  I assumed that the post was over-the-top enough (every single sentence in that post was racist in some way) for people to realize that I wasn't being serious about the stereotypes.  Fortunately, I was correct here, I have yet to receive comments from anybody who actually believed I was truly racist at heart.  No, my real intention was to bring up, in I suppose the most blatant way possible, the issues surrounding racism.  The reactions that I was really looking for were not "oooh, that post made me laugh so hard", or "oh, I got the meaning of this post, but some people might not get it", those were gimmies.  The reactions that I wanted where thoughtful discussions on the problem, on how people react to racism, or even better... on solutions.

    Sure, anybody can make a post that says "racism is bad" or "say 'no' to racism" or things like that, but in that situation all your getting is the same-old, same-old which most people I believe have become desensitized to and simply will say "well, that's not really a problem anymore."  Racism will always be a problem.  Racism will always exist until the entire world has interbred so much that we are all one race (hey, some experts say that will happen one day).  Sometimes however, until you really get out there and start to cause a commotion, until you really get out there and shake people up, UNTIL YOU OPEN UP AND MAKE PEOPLE SAY "HE DIDN'T JUST DO THAT DID HE?", there will always be people ignorant of the issue.  It's sad, but it's true, that so often it really take somebody to step way over the line before people witness the problem.  That just comes from today's culture where black people can say the "N" word whenever they want and it's cool, where people can use racial slurs on public airwaves and get slapped with a small fine, and where racial satire can be used in movies and TV shows with people getting away with it, but not on a blog where somebody is trying to prove a point.

    With all this having been said, the reaction I was not expecting was actually the reaction that I received the most of.  It seemed to me, that out of the few people who were offended by my post, it was not because they believed that I was being racist toward them, it was because they believed that I was trying to use the post to gain popularity or attract attention to myself.  That could not have been farther from the truth.  What, did you think that I was trying to make Featured Content with a post like that?  I'm really sure that will fly.  Believe me people, I am aware of much easier, and much safer ways to attract positive attention, and even if not, I would never mess with people's emotions just so I could gain popularity.

    Please do not consider this entry an apology for the content within my last post.  I do not regret posting it, and I feel that a point is still prevalent within it.  I AM however sorry, if I offended you by it, because I assure you that was not my intentions.  I know there will still be some of you who will respond saying "this is no justification for what you said in your last entry", and to them I would say I agree.  There is no way I can express in words any form of justification to my last entry, because the English language cannot properly express how sad but true what I have said here is.  Some of you may hate me now.  I may have lost a few readers.  But I hope, hope beyond hope, that somebody who is reading this really gets it.  I don't mean, leave a comment saying "yeah, I get it", because if that is all you have to say in your comment, that means you really don't.  If I can just at least make one person see what I am trying to say here, then I will feel like I have succeeded.

    Until next time, good luck with life.

    p.s. EilisAngelos is a cool xangan

    Do want to live in a perfect world?  Be honest, you do don't you?  Unfortunately, a perfect world doesn't come easy and it requires a lot of work.  A few entries ago, I gave my plan for creating world peace.  As many of you will recall, that plan was slightly... er... over-the-top.  Fortunately, the issue of world peace and perfection is very important to me, so since then, I have been brainstorming a plan that I believe will almost assuredly get us back to where we belong.  A world free from arguing, wars, and violence.  I am sure that you will ALL find this new plan that I have created to be significantly more reasonable.

    This is a nigger:

    As you can clearly see by this image, niggers have very small heads and very big arms - there is a reason for this.  Niggers belong on plantations working for the white man.  They don't need to be presidents or governors, they need to be sharecroppers at best.  Nobody can do physical labor as well as a nigger can.  They are stronger than everyone else, and they are blacker than everyone else.  They are human plows, burrows, oxen, whatever.  If we simply went back to forcing them to work our land, we wouldn't have to worry about getting robbed, mugged, or stabbed every time we left the house.

    This is a sand nigger:

    Middle-eastern people are the reason that we have airport screening, and as this picture clearly shows, there is a good solid reason for that.  Sand niggers hate everybody else because their god told them to.  He also apparently promised a lot of action for them as soon as they die, so the tricky part is that dying is exactly what they want to do.  Instead, in order to properly remove the threat of sand niggers from world peace, we need to find a less conventional method.  India is a large source for sand niggers seeing as how it takes up a large percent of the world's population, so we could start there.  I believe, that if we drop enough nukes on the border of the sand nigger's countries, we could send them adrift at sea until they all wind up at the south pole and freeze.

    These are chinks:

    Chinks are smarter than us, but other than that, ultimately useless, because they don't really know how to use their intelligence, as is evidenced by these two chinks doing a VERY POOR JOB of explaining the concept of magnetism.  As you can see however, they look weak as all-get-out, however, they know kung-fu.  This is where pure white ingenuity comes into play.  We use gu- what?  chinks invented gunpowder?  Fuck it, give them a taste of their own medicine.  Like I said, they don't know how to use their intelligence, gunpowder is not for fireworks, it's for pumping enough led into people to sink the Titanic.

    Wetbacks:

    There are actually no available pictures of wetbacks.  Wetbacks are constantly on the run, because they are illegal.  All of them.  Wetbacks enter the US by running, jumping, climbing, and swimming against all odds past our impenetrable border security.  They are elusive, sneaky, and stinky.  They take our jobs and go to our schools, yet when you are trying to look for them, they can never actually be found.  The only way to take out wetbacks is to build a better mousetrap.  Wetbacks care about lowriders.  Lowriders and nothing else.  To kill wetbacks, all you have to do is leave lowriders equipped with car bombs out in public places.  You won't have to worry about harming innocents because nobody else actually gives a shit about lowriders other than wetbacks.  Grab some lawn chairs, heat up some popcorn, and watch the show.

    Perfection:

   This is what we're going for here people, blonde hair and blue eyes.  Remember that Hitler guy?  He was on to something.  Other than create the autobahn and contribute significantly to the development of the Volkswagen company and popularity of The Beetle, he also had the right idea about how to create world peace.  Unfortunately, nobody agreed with him, and a war was started.  He later became an hero and killed himself, but that's another story completely.  The point is, if your baby doesn't look like this, please proceed in throwing him/her over the nearest cliff.

    And just like that, we have world peace.  Everybody happy and getting along.

    Until next time, good luck with life.

    Also, I'm not racist.