I, for one, fucking hate...
American Currency- Old American currency was boring. While the collective monies of every other country on Earth were getting dolled up in their finest blues and pinks and purples, American money was dressing itself in the same drab greens, burying its fun side so deep in the closet that it took us until recent years to see even a splash of color. But I'm not here to harp half-assedly on paper currency. No friends, I'm here to harp spectacularly on the 1971-1978 Eisenhower dollar coin, pictured left. I have no problem with Eisenhower himself. Buttons from the time of his term as president (1492-1500AD) proclaim "I LIKE IKE!" and if people liked the man enough to make buttons about him then certainly he has every right to be on the front of a coin. But what's that on the back of the coin you ask? It's a bald eagle, flying with a sprig of some sort of plant, on the moon. This is significant because EAGLES CANNOT FLY ON THE FUCKING MOON. There is no atmosphere on the moon for them to flap their wings against. Furthermore, without the previously mentioned atmosphere, eagles (like their distant cousin, man) cannot fucking breathe. Without atmosphere, the eagle's eyes would explode out of its very head like a bloody space-firecracker. Also, without any Atmosphere CDs, the eagle has no hope of throwing a decent party. According to internet witchdoctor and general know-it-all, Wikipedia, the design is the insignia of the Apollo 11 mission and was designed by some dude named Frank Gasparro. I don't know Mr. Gasparro personally, but his name does sound like a digestive disorder and I'm going to put my foot down and say that he has absolutely no business getting anywhere near our money again.Timecat, on the other hand, fucking loves...
American Psycho- "Movie = good. Book= best book ever? Back when I was a young warthog, I was wonderfully traumatized by the gratuitous sex and violence that occurs in the fictional life of seemingly normal guy, Pat Bateman. You know you never saw a movie where a guy bites off a chick’s snatch then drops a chainsaw down a stairwell on a hooker before this one, and you probably never will again. Then my eyes were opened to dangerously unsafe levels when I realized that this cinematic masterpiece was actually a novel, written by supercreep Bret Easton Ellis. I must compliment Mr. Ellis because to this day I do not think I have read a better written book, but I hope I never run into him in an alley late at night, because any guy who can think up a chapter where the main character sports the decapitated head of a woman on his cock while killing is not invited to tea time with me and Grand Ma-Ma. However, kudos are in order because with the incredible attention to detail and the ability to bring to life what I imagine is a spot-on rendition of the mind of a psychopath from the inside out, it is obvious that Ellis is a very talented writer. So with that being said, shine on Bret Easton Ellis, you blood-and-gore-covered diamond!"
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