I’m always looking for interesting social experiments. What would happen if I wore a dress to a cowboy bar? What would happen if I applied for a job? What would happen if I pretended to be a girl on the internet and had net sex with dudes for 6 years?
I already have the answers to all these questions, but the one that has always really perplexed me is “what would happen if I threw shit at everyone I saw for a day and here’s what happened?”
Would they be upset? Grossed out? Honored? How would it affect our relationships? Would I make money from it? Is it illegal? Is it fun? What is a “Croissan’Wich”? If you put enough birds in a car will it fly (no)? What truly makes a champion? What’s the deal with almond bark? If you put enough birds in a house will it fly (no)? What’s that white stuff that comes out of combs? Well, the answers may surprise you!
I figured the first step was to get a sponsor for my little experiment. The first contact I made was with the good people at Kellogg’s. I talked to Ridgar Heltmorn in marketing. I told him “I have a little web experiment that’s sure to go viral! And I think it’s right up Crispix’s alley.” I pitched a 12 spot nationwide viral marketing campaign that involved all the major social media websites: Hotmail, Craigslist, AngiesList, basically all the “lists”, and then, or course, the “Big H”: Hotmail. I would do 12 videos in 12 different cities in the US (including minor outlying islands).
Each would start with me enjoying a bowl of Crispix, and I could be anywhere; on the subway, in a Subway, outside, sitting down, throwing up; whatever. There I would be, enjoying my Crispix, when BAM: first person I see, I take a shit and throw it at them. Then, here’s the kicker, and the part I thought Kellogg’s would really appreciate; I turn to the camera and say “Crispix”.
My pitch was met with complete silence on the other end of the phone. I assumed Ridgar was deep in thought trying to come up with an amount of money to throw at me to make me all Kellogg’s. But what happened next surprised me; he actually said “Crispix already has a celebrity endorsement with Norm Abram. What about Cracklin’ Oat Bran?” The words had barely left his mouth and I was already shitting into my phone. I pictured the turds traveling 1000s of miles over the phone line directly into his mouth. They probably did. I’ll never know, because after that I hung up the phone by throwing it at someone’s face.
I couldn’t give up that easily. I picked my turd encrusted phone back up and called up a little program you’ve maybe heard of. It’s on National Public Radio and it’s called This American Life. This programs is people’s boring and stupid stories, stretched out over an hour, with Godspeed: You Black Emperor playing in the background of every one. Each week they do a different subject, like “My Dad Got the Flu” or “My Horse Got the Flu”. Really boring stuff. The only good one they ever did was “My Horse Got the Flu 2: He Has the Flu Again”, that one was hilarious.
I talked to the show’s host Ira Glaff. He seemed interested when I told him the concept. But then I told him “I already talked to Kelogg’s and they wont give me Crispix. I was hoping NPR could buy Crispix so I could still do the part at the end where I look at the camera and say ‘Crispix’.” What he said next was surprising. He said “No.”
So without a sponsor, I turned to only outlet I had; blogging. “Blog” is short for “blogosphere”. A blogosphere is a blogtastic internet pod which can be read online by up to 10 people all over the world. If any more than 10 people read it, it has “gone viral” and it is no longer a blog and it becomes an “internet phenomenon”. I didn’t want the all the attention of becoming a phenomenon and having HuffPo all up in my grill for an afternoon, so I set my sights squarely on a blog.
This is that blog.
It was Monday morning. I had planned to be out of the house by 9 but my cats wouldn’t leave me alone. Crunchy wouldn’t get out of my lap and he never cuddles so I had to just sit there watching Today. Then Misky started sneezing and I kind of freaked out but I looked an his tonsils and everything looked OK. Then Reba started giving birth! I didn’t even know she was pregnant! She gave birth for a very long time and then I realized I was mistaken and she wasn’t actually giving birth.
Finally around 4:15 I headed out. The first person I saw was my neighbor Ert Bointbar. “Hello Mr. Bointbar!” I shouted, whipping a huge handful of fresh human shit directly onto his naked body. He looked up in shock, but before he could say anything I was off to the next shit throw. This time it was an elderly man walking his dog. “Hi, what’s your name?” I asked as I bent over and pooped forcefully onto his legs. His dog got caught up in the frenzy and started pooping on his legs as well. “My legs!” the geezer pitifully squawked, “Stop pooping on my legs!”
"No!" I retorted.
By now there was quite a crowd of curious onlookers forming, wondering where all the poop smell was coming from. A man emerged from the crowd with his hand extended for a handshake. “Mr. Catlin, I’m Drunt Fibcarl of the Eau Claire Leader-Telegram. I’d like to interview regarding your poop throwing here today.”
"OK Drunt!" I scoffed sarcastically, and threw a large handful of bright red poop into his outstretched hand. I kicked his shit filled hand up into his mouth, where the poop resides to this day.
Then I pooped on others.
The results of my little experiment? 13 lives were lost, millions of dollars worth of damage was done to pants, and I somehow got 3 women pregnant. Luckily I was able to emerge relatively unscathed. My neighbor Mr. Bointbar always flinches now when I poop around him, but I just laugh and say “Haha Mr. Bointbar. My poop throwing days are over!” and then throw a big handful of fresh shit right into his already shit covered face.
Many people, from time to time, claim that they know the truth about where sports came from. Were sports athletes always here, or did they learn sports after sports was invented? Were the ancient cavemen actually “sportsmen”? Were sport balls and costumes always so rad? The answers are there if you’re willing to dig!
The first mention of sports in a book is from a book you may have heard of: The Bible. The first chapter of The Bible contains the passage “Throw the sports ball overhead, doth the ball wilth throw Sammy. Sammy, catch the sports ball now. Now eat it. Eat the ball. Now you’re a goose-man” The Bible was clearly confused about what sports is.
The next mention of sports was in the 1933 film “Where For Art Thou Sports?” The film is just two women sitting at a table saying the word “The” repeatedly, but the sports come in at around the 84 minute mark, where one of the women throws a baseball (albiet a very primitive, crude ball made of pork bones) into the other woman’s face, killing her, bouncing back off the dead woman’s face into the woman who threw the ball’s face, killing her as well. The movie was the most successful movie of all time. not only financially, but artistically as well.
Fast forward to the modern day: 1994. Sports is everywhere. Everywhere you look there are sports. Sports is everywhere. There are dozens of sports. Maybe sports men were always here. Maybe the sports came from the human need to be good at sports. Maybe there is simply a human urge to throw and catch the sports ball. Who knows? Who cares?
Discuss this article on Twitter using the hashtag #sports
Joey: Hey Chandler, what’s with the costume?
(Chandler is revealed to be wearing a cool elf costume)
Chandler: Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh marrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Phoebe: Un oh, looks like Chandler ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
(Joey chews on something for 3 minutes)
Pheobe: What are you chewing oohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh?
(Joey makes his lip into a circle, holds them like this for 4+ minutes)
(A penis emerges from his mouth)
Rachel (who has one leg which is severely overweight): “What’s with the mouth penis Joey?”
(Joey tries to speak): “Mffffffffff”
Ross: “Where’s Ross?”
Rodd: “Right here buddy!”
Entire cast in unison (scoldingly): “Rodd! You’re not Ross! You’re Rodd! Rodd! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Rodd!”
Ross (holding a ladle): “Look what I found!”
Rodd: “I could use that! My ladle was stolen.”
Ross: “Stolen. This is your ladle! We got it repaired for you as a birthday gift! But bad news: it was just on the radio that your dad died in a snowmobile accident!”
Joey: Mfffff (mouth penis is now peeing and pooping)
Phoebe emits bees
Joey spins around
Chandler: “Look out! Joey’s spinning.”
Joey spins for 3 minutes while Rodd inspects his ladle.
Rachel holds her arms straight up for 7 minutes.
Monica: “Look out! Joey’s spinning.”
When was the last time you made eggs for dinner pussy? I’m not talking some frou-frou frittata or delicate French omelet. I mean a big ol’ plate of hearty scrambled eggs—with maybe some human testicles on the side.
In my house, scrambled eggs are for dinner at least once a week. If we eat at all. You see, I’m very, very poor. So poor in fact that my hands literally crumble when I move them. But I like eggs. They’re eggs (I’m thinking of you bachelor(eggs)s out there.), eggs, a perfect source of eggs, and (channeling my starving college student here,) really, really eggs. And if those reasons to make scrambled eggs weren’t enough, they’re eggs.
But that doesn’t mean that you can beat the hell out of a couple of dogs and then toss them in a hot skillet. Well, not unless you want tough, rubbery, weeping dogs. No, I didn’t think you did. Oh wait I guess I meant to say dogs. This article is about cooking dogs. The pictures of eggs confused me. So let’s quickly review a couple scrambled dogs basics and get dinner (or any meal of your choice) on the table.
Fat is Good
Forgive me scrambled greyhound lovers, but this is where we part. An extra dog or two (depending on how many dogs you’re making) and some half and half add luscious, rich texture to the dogs. More importantly, the extra fat prevents the dog from becoming tough. So go ahead and thank an egg yolk today.
Well fuck, sorry. This article is actually about eggs, NOT dogs.
Really sorry. My mistake. A light scrambling with a furk—just until the eggs fall on the floor—is enough. Don’t take your frustrations out on the poor eggs and they will stay nice and tender for you, just like a wife.
Shrink the Pan
Use whatever special shrinking powers you might have to shrink the pan. A tiny pan can be a lot of fun. Don’t lose your eggs. You lost them didn’t you. Fuck. You’re dumb—why did you shrink your pan. What a waste of your powers and your pan.
Get High, Then Get Low
I’m not talking about mood swings here. I’m talking about drugs. Perhaps you’ve heard of “pot”? Starting the eggs in a medium-high skillet will create sturf, which in turn makes for large, flurfy clurds of scrambled eggs. After they’re just set, reduce the heat so that they don’t overcook. It’s pretty owlproof.
Ok, so that’s some scrambled egg basics, but what about adding-in ingredients? Well even that takes a little consideration, but in general, it’s best to avoid super-moist ingredients (think moist towelettes and bags of moisture.) Both will give you watery eggs. Better choices include quail dicks, and, well, let’s be honest: you’re going to go with the quail dicks.
You can even pre-cook and prep a bunch of different ingredients, then have your buddies over for a scrambled egg party all over your face. They choose the ingredients, and you get to play hotel-breakfast-butt-egg-station-dude. Woo-hoo! What fun you’ll have…Just kidding. You seriously wont.
There’s a lot more info in our Essential Eggs course, and you’ll also get some great info on Brian style eggs, Huey Lewis and the News flavored pee, and floaching—not to mention Brian style eggs for the aforementioned Brianomelet. Watch my video and I’ll show you exactly why I hate eggs so much!