John Travolta’s son Jett died today.  It’s tragic, but let’s face it…who didn’t see it coming?

You see, if I ever had a kid…which is a big if, because it would require me living in a place without stairs to push the girl down for nine months, I would do one important thing:  Take care of it.  And I don’t even like kids.

You see, if I ever had a kid, and my kid was diagnosed with autism and was known to have seizures, I would do something about it.  What did John Travolta do about it?  He refused medical treatment for his son, that’s what.  I want to know why everybody is so surprised that his sick kid is dead when it was public knowledge that he wasn’t doing anything rational to stop it.  News flash:  High thetan levels don’t stop seizures, medical treatment does.  Where’s your Dianetics now, asshole?

There are people on welfare; there are people who are so incredibly stupid they can barely tie their shoelaces without shitting themselves, and they still are capable of comprehending the significance of medicine.  These Scientologist idiots who are so brainwashed by the most ludicrous things have resorted to stopping medical treatment for people who really need it.  Not only that, they expect them not to die.  I’m all for people believing what they want.  If you want to believe aliens live in volcanoes and we have thetan levels that give us super powers, by all means do it.  If you want to believe medicine has no “earthly value,” or that psychiatry is bogus, go ahead.  But, if you’re willing to bury your head in the sand, don’t get so bent out of shape when your kid dies because of your ineptitude as a parent and human being.  You’re absolutely clueless, and it’s insulting to evolution.

What really gets me are all of these blogs with commenters saying, “Oh my god, what a tragedy!  Poor John Travolta and his family!”  I bet 99% of them bashed Travolta on the article a year ago when John Travolta refused to treat his kid for autism.  All of a sudden this is a surprise to you?  Are you idiots that incapable of connecting the dots to something so incredibly obvious?  John Travolta killed his kid.  He didn’t stab him in the head with a pitchfork, but he neglected to take care of him.  He is responsible for Jett’s death, and instead of feeling sorry for him, you should be pissed at him.  You should be finding ways to arrest him for killing his kid.  Or Phenomenon.  One or the other.

Negligent homicide is still homicide, and John Travolta is a child killer.  Even NAMBLA doesn’t advocate for killing kids.  You know what this means?  That John Travolta is worse than an army of pederasts.  Oh I went there!

With 2009 comes chance, hope, promises of better lives, and opportunities to improve ourselves in new ways.  With that being said, if you’ve ever wanted to improve your ability to be mean to children, I’ve compiled a list of the six best ways to annoy a child.  Every one of these tactics has been personally tested by yours truly, and all have worked with fantastic results.  I promise you that utilizing these concepts will wield a tornado of prepubescent unhappiness that can only make a new year better and brighter.

It is important to note that “unhappiness” is a fairly loose and ambiguous term.  You may want to annoy a child in a specific way.  This is why I have incorporated pictures representing the reactions that the child will give you for each specific thing.  Plan accordingly.

1.  The Wii gloater bubble.
This is a fairly new method I’ve developed.  My seven year old nephew recently got a Wii for Christmas, so naturally I have to compete with him and make sure he doesn’t win.  Ever.  This tactic involves laughing at all of their mistakes at an obnoxiously loud volume.  It also helps if you stick your face right in front of theirs while you do it, saying things like, “Oh yeah!”

*Note: Wii can be interchanged with anything that can be construed as fun.  For example:  my nephew and I played Chutes and Ladders, and as soon as he hit that big ass chute going all the way down to the beginning, I started laughing maniacally in his face.  The results were exactly the same for both games.

*Note #2:  I manipulated the spinning wheel to have him land on the long chute.  Twice.

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2.  The Listerine Lick
The Listerine Lick requires two things:  A Listerine Power Pak strip that dissolves in your mouth instantly, and a child who has no idea what A Listerine Power Pak strip is.  It’s self-explanatory…just have them open their mouths and put the strip in.  The result will be priceless, so make sure you have a camera handy.  I’ve tested this on my nephew several times, and what I find that works best are the Listerine Strips, or Wasabi.  Both work extremely well.

*Note:  You can do this more than once if you offer the child money.  The money deal only worked once for me though because I didn’t actually pay up like I promised, and he caught on.

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3.  The Case of the Missing Brownie
I’ll be honest, discovering “The Brownie incident” was a complete accident.  I was out to dinner with my nephew, and he ordered a brownie for dessert.  He ate most of it and had one small piece left so I took it and ate it right in front of him.  What happened after that was a mixture of eyes welling and a pursed together mouth, as if it were from the faces of gay couples who had their marriage licenses taken away.  I don’t know a lot about child psychology, but I do know that taking the last of anything good will piss a child off.

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4.  The Trip
On Christmas Eve I went into a grocery store.  I got into the store, and there was this horrible little kid running through the aisles screaming. I know he was excited about Christmas, but he was being incredibly obnoxious. He was being as loud and repulsive as Yoko Ono would be singing in a g-string. Screaming. Crying. Being an annoying little idiot while his parents stood there picking up vegetables, not doing a thing to calm their runt down.
I went into the cheese aisle and the kid ran past me. I nonchalantly put my foot out and he fell flat on his face.  I tripped a 4 year old kid on Christmas Eve, and I would do it again.

*It should be noted that I do not advocate for child abuse in any way, nor do I want to see any child suffer in a …nevermind

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5.  The Dirt Removal
If a child ever knocks over a plant and spills dirt, here is a cute little thing you can do.  Have him clean the mess up with you, and at some point grab a little bit of dirt and pretend to eat it, but make the kid think you’ve actually eaten it.  Then say, “Now you try.”  They will actually grab a clump of dirt and put it in their mouth and eat it.  It’s awesome.  It’s exactly the same expression you’d expect a child to have if he thought that for the longest time dirt was inedible, briefly thought it was edible, and then quickly relearned it wasn’t edible.

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6.  Scare Tactics
While most of my experiments usually involve my naïve, yet forgiving nephew, if I can find a child to annoy elsewhere, I usually take advantage of those opportunities.  They’re like coupons.

I was at my friend’s house, and he babysat this 12 year old kid, Brandon.  All of us were sitting in the living room, when I decided for no particular reason to call their land line.  I call and ask for Brandon, meanwhile we were all sitting together.  Everyone could hear me talk into the phone, and Brandon was standing a few feet away from me while I was doing this.  How this plan worked is beyond me…
When Brandon answered the phone, I changed my voice to a stalkerish serial killer hybrid sound.  In other words, just like Seth MacFarlane.  I then begin to scare the hell out of him.

It was at this point where Brandon looked out of the window and “saw” someone looking at him.  I then told him he had to walk home in the dark.  He was practically in tears…and for some strange reason I loved myself more that day.

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Remember, 2009 brings hope and promise to everyone, which of course means everyone except children.

Happy New Year

Another Freak Safari Presents commercial from Ken and myself:

I’ve tried very hard not to talk about the recession, the state of the economy, or anything having to do with words like “Bail,” “out,” “George Bush,” and “Shoe.”  It’s been done thousands of times before, and it’s infecting the media like it were Andrew Beckett’s T-Cells.  Wokka Wokka Wokka!

But one of my cars unexpectedly died today, so naturally my friends were telling me that I could buy any car as long as it was American.  One of my friends is also a CEO of a large company, and has been known to outsource from time to time.  This friend also owns a Porsche and BMW.  While the rationale of his argument is reasonable, his execution wasn’t.  Then, I turned on the news, and there was one fellow who looked eerily similar to Ron Jeremy telling me that people who buy foreign cars were bad Americans.  He ironically broadcasted this on the BBC.  So, while American cars are good enough to utilize, clearly our communication network isn’t.  Let’s get one thing straight:

America is a free market capitalism, and you can’t just pick and choose which products you’ll buy that are foreign and still maintain that holier than thou integrity without coming off like a royal jackass.  It’s so obnoxious that even engaging in this conversation makes me feel dirty.  Do you know how hard it is to type “free market capitalism,” without hating yourself?

I fully understand that the car market is going under just like I fully understand that Amy Winehouse has nipples that resemble decaying mushrooms.  But don’t tell me that I’m a bad American for choosing to buy a foreign car in America when there is Wal Mart selling a toaster for five dollars at the expense of 30 Vietnamese kindergarteners who have probably already lost their ass cherries.  Not only that, if you are under some kind of assumption that companies like Ford don’t have manufacturing centers outside of the US, you’re wrong.  They have parts made in foreign countries to get assembled into the United States, just like Toyota does.  You can argue that a lot more work is done in America and more money will ultimately circulate within our borders, but where do you draw the line?  Companies are still giving jobs to foreigners while simultaneously raping you in the ass.  The only difference is now they’ve found a way to make you feel guilty about it.

If you have a friend who bitches to you about buying a foreign car, ask him where his shirt came from.  Ask him if he plays Nintendo Wii or ever watched an episode of Voltron.  You don’t want me to buy a foreign car?  Ok, then stop buying their clothes, televisions, computers, phones, candy, medicine, video games, alcohol, and if you’re into this kind of thing:  Panty vending machines.  Better yet, stop the companies you hold so dear from manufacturing crap overseas or start having the unions protect the actual people and create flexibility where they can create a smart competition for the Toyota workers in the country.  The idea that you can somehow pick and choose what is acceptable from foreign companies is ludicrous, especially when our entire economic system is based on that being acceptable.  By buying a foreign car, I’m doing the most American thing I can do, and I don’t care what some redneck from Iowa thinks.

Another thing, price isn’t the sole reason people buy foreign cars.  People buy foreign cars because for the most part, American cars are inferior.  They break down and genuinely suck.  Ford has had more breakdowns than Britney Spears.  If you want this to stop, bitching to people buying a Mercedes isn’t going to help.  Getting companies like GM to make good cars is.

I think of history in very linear ways.  To get from point A to C, we must go through point B.  So in 10 years when there is another Holocaust, nuclear war, and more AIDS than ever before, we can look back and say Alec Greven was the reason for it.  He was our point B.  Alec Greven is a nine year old kid who wrote the book, “How to Talk to Girls,” which is awesome because books about developing sexual relationships are best written by virgins who can barely do long division.

"I love being white!"

Despite looking like one of those cancer kids on a St.  Jude commercial, Alec Greven makes it really hard to explore all the stupidity in his book because there’s just too much there, but if it’s any consolation, it reads like it was written by a nine year old with a brain tumor.  So there’s that.

Everything about this book is just stupid.  It’s the kind of witless humor that would make middle-aged housewives laugh.  Nothing is funny or clever.  This book is basically toilet paper that has been published and then endorsed by Ellen DeGeneres, a person who still thinks naming her pet cow “Holy” so she can say “Holy Cow,” is funny.  Take this excerpt from his book for example:

“A crush is like a love disease. It can drive you mad.”

What the hell is with all these precocious kids and their dopey metaphors?  They’re like an Emo kid’s poetry, saying pseudo profound things like, “If love was lost…would it really be there?”

Greven’s metaphor doesn’t even make sense.  A crush isn’t a love disease; this is:

It's called a genital wart, and you get them for believing in Santa!

“Be wary of ‘pretty girls.’  It is easy to spot pretty girls because they have big earrings, fancy dresses and all the jewelry.”

They also have really nice boobies used for kissing, massaging, and maybe putting on a puppet show, what’s your point?

Kids like Alec annoy me.  Especially ones who try to act older than they really are.  You’re eight years old, not 30.  Talking like an adult does not mean I am going to value your opinion in any substantial way.  The only thing that can make Alec more annoying in my book is if he had a British accent and used the word “fabulous” somewhere throughout his interviews.  If people honestly valued their opinions, they’d be allowed to vote. 

Fortunately enough, through some clever voice trickery…I was able to interview Alec about his book:

You don’t know what you’re talking about, so until your gonads drop, shut the hell up, Alec.