NEWS: ?

Smokers

December 29th, 2005
Filed under Rants

I hate smokers. They smoke all the time. You go out to the cafeteria, and someone lights a cigarette. What the hell is up with that? Seriously, who was the first person to look at a tobacco plant and say “Oh, what a nice plant! I will pick it, dry it, cut it into little pieces, wrap it in paper, light it on fire and suck on it.” I mean, even the Stadium Pal was created through a logical sequence of steps, some guy had the following requirements: “I want to pee. I do not want to get up.” Voila, Stadium Pal. What were the cigarette guy’s requirements? “I want to stick a flaming plant in my mouth and annoy people around me”? How does that make any sense? The only acceptable social circumstance for smoking is when you’re on fire, and you shouldn’t even do it then for long.

!/images/baby.jpg!
Death at an early age.

Thankfully, smoking in public places is banned everywhere here in Greece. That means that now whenever I go out to a club or a whorehouse or some other public place and tell people to put that cigarette out or I sodomize them, they will now go “bah, shut up” instead of “if you don’t like it, leave”. That is a huge victory for human rights activists everywhere. I especially hate it when women smoke. Not only is it repulsive, but when you try to kiss them you burn your tongue. Nowadays I blow the lighter’s flame out when my friends try to light a cigarette, but they have gotten smarter and bought one of those windproof lighters, so I just spit on them instead.

Smoking in a non-smokers face is very annoying. I started farting in smoker’s faces, but it had a few disadvantages. For one, no one else does it, so it puts me in somewhat of an awkward position, although essentially it is the same as smoking, you are still emitting noxious gases in peoples’ faces. Sadly, for the aforementioned reason, farting is still not as acceptable as smoking, though it can be more pleasurable and less harmful than smoking (it’s only harmful towards passive farters). Secondly, farting can be dangerous since, well, let’s face it, you are farting in a smoker’s face. Fire + methane = explosiriffic. Having your large intestine blown up from the inside is not good, because then you have to spend three fucking days in a hospital with some nurse sticking burn cream up your ass, and woe is you if it’s a male nurse. They gave me a male nurse once, I had to swallow half a tube of cream to avoid him. It worked out in the end, though.

Disgusting.

I also hate smoking after sex. Bitch, if you smoke after sex, I’m going to sleep and there’s nothing you can do about it. What is this fad with smoking after sex? Go take a shower you filthy whore, you have millions of unborn children on your face. Movies endorse this behaviour by showing people smoking after sex all the time. By the way, have you noticed how chicks in movies hide their tits with the sheets afterwards? What the hell, retard, I have had my junk in yours for an hour now, I have seen your tits bounce more times than I care for, why are you hiding them now? Did they grow anything new I shouldn’t know about in the meantime? IF YOU DON’T WANT TO SHOW YOUR ACTRESS’S TITS, DON’T MAKE HER HAVE SEX! If you want to show the conversation afterwards, just skip directly to that and film their heads only, you fools. If we see two sweaty heads panting, it’s somewhat obvious what went on, unless they are wearing jogging outfits. Requiem for a Dream was good in that respect, although those guys smoked pot or some shit like that afterwards, which is unacceptable, pot smells like ass, and they all died in the end, or they should have.

Smoking makes you crazy.

But I digress. I don’t really hate smoking itself, I just hate the smoke. There must be better ways people can smoke without all that damn smoke all around them. Chew tobacco or something (although that leaves those awful stains all over the floor). Heroin addicts have it right, all you need is a rusty spoon, a diseased needle and a lighter and you’re good to go for hours on end. Why can’t people do that? They should legalise heroin and outlaw smoking, at least I wouldn’t have to deal with it all the damn time that way.

By the way, what is up with coffee? It tastes like piss, only worse. How can people drink that, it’s not even thick. I don’t have anything against coffee, I’m just wondering what people find so great about it. I watched this movie, Coffee and Cigarettes, and it sucked extraneous amounts of ass. There were people who were drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes and talking. It was also in black and white. Why was it in black and white? There have been colour cameras out for centuries, couldn’t that guy get one? Hell, I have one he could borrow. Anyway, that movie is no good. Don’t watch it.

This post is getting rather long and I know you people can’t stand reading for long, so I’ll stop here. It’s odd how people will gladly read two normal posts and still want more, but when you write a big one they get tired. Anyway, stop smoking. Well, in my presence, anyway.

Merry Christmas

December 24th, 2005
Filed under Ideas, Rants

This started as a post blasting those Politically Correct morons who are trying to get the word “Christmas” removed from public lexicon since it is supposedly offensive to groups that do not celebrate Christmas or believe in Christ. However, protesting these cliche “Happy Holidays” and “Seasons Greetings” non-salutations has become equally cliche.

So what to write about? The world is still messed up. A meaningless war is being fought on page 7, and somewhere in the back pages, the destruction of thousands of lives goes on in Africa. Burma (a.k.a. Myanmar) is the last bastion of unchecked governmental craziness. The Chinese are poised to take over the world and spread their trademark human rights violations over the entire globe. Day by day the American government lies to its people who sit blindly and believe everything they hear from spin magazines, while the corporate sponsors line their pockets with the blood of their children.

So what to write about? For people in New Orleans there won’t be a Christmas this year. The best present they might get is not dying of the plague, while 500 km away, their “neighbours” gorge themselves on turkey, stuffing, and network football. For people in Sri Lanka after all the aid groups have left because the shine is off the apple, there seems to be little cause to rejoice. In Subsaharan Africa, AIDS continues almost unchecked because the religious body says that condoms are sinful; said with a poorly-translated bible in one hand and a little boy in the other.

So what to write about?

Maybe what this post is supposed to be about is that this seems to be the one time of year when people at least pretend to think more about each other than their own short-term happiness, unless you could the tramplings that go on in the mall for the last-minute shoppers. If we can strip away the rampant consumerism that seems to wrap the Christmas presence, take down the shoddy plastic trees and lights and crappy music and useless toys, if we can somehow kill Santa Claus for a minute and silence his army of elven slaves, is there a meaning behind the day?

Perhaps Christmas, at its essence, is this: a love for those who you don’t even know. We talk a big game about being a global community, but maybe this is the one time of year when we begin to show caring. Christmas to me, religious history aside, is about celebrating the importance and fragility of our tenure on this planet. The religious part makes a good story to add to it, but is that really what is meant by “Christmas” anymore?

This post is starting to ramble, without really arriving at a solid point. I will close with this. If you can look past the wrapping paper, and even look past the gift, and examine why the gift was given; look past the star and the tinsel and see why on Earth someone would cut down an innocent tree; look past the fat man in the red jumpsuit and see why children put out milk and cookies; maybe then you can understand what is really, albiet covertly, being said when I wish you

Merry Christmas

- Porocrom’s Crappaper

Christmas.

December 20th, 2005
Filed under Ideas

In case you haven’t noticed, it’s almost Christmas. Yes, that time of the year, when you change your wallpaper to that one with the tree and the balls and remove the screensaver with the Easter Bunny you forgot to change since, well, Easter. This is what most adults do, but if you’re a child WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON THE INTERNET? IT’S WAY PAST YOUR BEDTIME, GO SLEEP OR I’M TELLING YOUR MOTHER. As I was saying, if you’re a kid Christmas is the magical time when they make new toys and show them on TV and you bitch to your parents to get you a POWER RANGER SUPER DUPER TRIPLE COMMUNICATION MASK DOUBLE MEGAZORD until they commit suicide and you are rushed off to the orphanage where some nice gentleman in red and smelling faintly of alcohol comes and brings you $1 toy cars.

Of course, we at Porocrom could not stand idly and watch while the shopping spree passed us by, so, wanting to take advantage of the gullibility of children and the fact that they act towards toys like addicts do towards crack, we have created a new line of toys that are sure to attract kids with their happy colours, fun gameplay and subliminal advertising sex. And really, how can resist buying them what they want when they are shouting IWANTITIWANTITIWANTIT in your ear and when you see the joy on their (and our) faces when you give it to them? Without further ado, I present to you, the new Porocrom toy line!

Michael Jackson Action Figure

Who doesn’t love a pop star action figure? Kids go crazy over them, they prefer them over candy. Who doesn’t love a Michael Jackson action figure? At the peak of his fame, Michael Jackson is the star most deserving an effigy. Complete with a detachable nose1, this Michael Jackson action figure speaks! Pull down his pants to reveal a well-sized penis, which, when pulled, causes him to say things like “I love you. I really love you.”, “Let’s play a game” and “I am innocent, your honour”. Careful though, don’t pull too hard, it might come off1.

1 You need the Dr. Werner Mang action figure to reattach these parts.

George “Dubya” Bush WMD Detector

Are you suspecting that the kid who’s hogging the merry-go-round has WMDs (slingshots, BB guns, nukes)? Do you want to tell your mom but you can’t do anything because you don’t have proof? Do you want to launch a preemptive strike but you don’t have parental sanction? This detector is exactly what you need to depose evil Johnny and restore democracy to your neighbourhood’s playground. Just go to the location where you suspect he hides his WMDs (or any location will work, really) and fire the detector. It will confirm your worst fears with a jolly “Yep! They’re here.” You can also use the remote detection feature. Just press the “Recon” button and a map of the world will flash red, indicating that the weapons are somewhere in that general region, accompanied by a succinct “They’re everywhere!” Little Johnny will get what was coming to him, and you will control all the rides.

The Saddam Hussein WMD Creation Instruction Handbook

We are sure that you have at some point in your life been in a situation where you were so embarrassed you wish everyone else was dead. Well, now they can be! With our handbook you too can create your very own WMDs. Unfortunately, all the pages of the booklet are empty, but together with it you will get the C.I.A. WMD Creation Instruction Handbook absolutely free[2]! Inside this handbook you will find instructions on how to easily create slingshots, BB guns and nukes, complete with how to mine your own uranium, how to make a nuclear warhead from a can of coffee and how to get the rubber for the slingshot from your underpants.

2 Free as in “P.A.T.R.I.O.T. Act”.

The “Paris Hilton” Dog Leash

Is your dog misbehaving? Do you want to teach your old dog new tricks? The “Paris Hilton” leash is for you! Featuring a button in the handle which, when pressed, will immediately tighten its hold (and emit a high-pitched whine yelling “THE DOG OF A HEIRESS MUST BEHAVE”), thus disciplining your poodle. As a special bonus, you will also get the remote controller and a DVD of Paris Hilton refusing to sit on a bottle completely free of charge! This is useful if, for example you want to teach your dog not to pee on the rug. When you see him beginning to do it, just press the button on the remote control and the collar will immediately go to work (optionally delivering 100,000 Volts of electricity to the animal). Your dog will never do it again, guaranteed!

You can buy all these items at the Porocrom Store at a street corner near you! We would like to wish you a merry Christmas (or whatever you celebrate these days). By the way, we have created a new forum for all you people who are having problems with your computers and stuff, so you can go to http://cpforum.poromenos.org and we’ll help you.

A Porocrom look at Christmas Music

December 12th, 2005
Filed under Ideas, Music, Rants, Strokes of Genius

It’s that time of year again… when there’s a crisp chill in the air, and a spring in your step. Where the only force stronger than the love that unites all of mankind is the force urging shoppers to trample each other in order to save 50 cents on a dented DVD player. It’s that magical time of year that we tell children to follow in the example of the baby Jesus and DEMAND another fucking Furby doll from parents too kid-whipped to stop and think what long-term damage mindless commercialism could do to their progeny. It’s the one time of year that the voices in your head telling you to pull out an AK and spray death all over your local mall are drowned out by the sickening pablum of

Christmas Music.

In true Porocrom style, I’m here to take a closer look at the songs that warm our hearts as we empty our pockets. Maybe some of the insanity that accompanies this season can be explained by the drivel that we play ad nauseam year in and out.

White Christmas

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know
Where the treetops glisten and children listen
To hear sleighbells in the snow…

Now I am not sure when this song was written, but I would have to guess it was some time in the 18th century, when it was still fashionable to own and operate a sleigh. This song doesn’t get a lot of air-time in places south of the Canadian border, since snow to most non-Canucks is either a crappy white rapper or a slang for cocaine. Maybe the latter definition would explain why the treetops are glistening. To my memory, the only time I’ve ever seen treetops ‘glisten’ is during the Quebec ice storm of 2000, and I really doubt that’s the kind of nostalgia we really want.

Winter Wonderland

Sleighbells ring, are you listening?
In the lane snow is glistening.
A beatiful sight, we’re happy tonight
Walking in a winter wonderland.

Seems harmless enough, doesn’t it? That’s how the blasted Ruskies infiltrate your mind. Before too long, you’re getting a common-law marriage presided by a snowman that you built yourself in the lane. Then, if the laudanum-induced winter “wonderland” isn’t enough for you, you and your comrades will “conspire” indoors to overthrow the snowperson empire, facing your evil designs “unafraid”. It’s always the nice Christmas songs that end up going so terribly wrong.

The Little Drummer Boy

Come they told me, pa-rumpupum-pum
A newborn king to see, pa-rumpupum-pum
Our finest gifts we bring, pa-rumpupum-pum
To lay before the king, pa-rumpupum-pum, rumpupum-pum, rumpupum-pum
So to honour him, pa-rumpupum-pum, when we come.

I tried this with my baby cousin. Free piece of advice: babies do NOT like drum solos at close proximity. I tried to throw in some Neil Peart with a Travis Barker twist and all I got for my trouble was loud wailing and a ticket for noise violation. To top it all off, my aunt threatened to break her foot off in my rumpupum-pum…

The 12 Days of Christmas

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me:
12 drummers drumming, 11 pipers piping
10 lords a-leaping, 9 ladies dancing
8 maids a-milking, 7 swans a-swimming
6 geese a-laying…
5 GOLDEN RINGS (pause for emphasis)
4 colly (calling? nobody seems to agree on this one) birds
3 French hens, 2 turtledoves
And a patridge in a pear tree.

It must be nice to have a true love whose portfolio includes both forays into animal husbandry and the slave trade. It’s a good thing there are only 12 days of Christmas (although last time I checked, it was only the one…) otherwise the narrator in this story would have to request a warehouse to store all this shit. If it were me in this story, I’d tell my true love to skip the drummers, pipers and leaping lords (why the HELL would anyone want a bunch of riverdancers?), leave me the 17 bitches and the bling, and trade the livestock in for a decent-looking car. Then again, I’m a man of much more refined tastes.

Also it would be funny if you served your true love a dish of partridge with pear stuffing…

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night
They didn’t hear me creep downstairs to have a peep
They thought that I was tucked up in my bedroom fast asleep.

It’s a good thing that the kid didn’t walk in on the second half of the performance when mommy begins pumping on Santa’s North Pole, trying to get some presents out of his sack. It makes me wonder why this perverted song still gets played every year. The lost verses include mommy tying up Santa and making him beg her in German not to take a dookie in his mouth. Heart-warming stuff.

Santa Claus is coming to town

You’d better watch out, you’d better not cry
You’d better not pout I’m telling you why:
Santa Claus is coming to town
…
He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake
He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness’ sake!

Wow… just wow. If any child wasn’t already petrified by the prospect of a fat white dude dressed in blood red and leather who enters the house by the chimney, they can now talk to their therapists about the fact that he sees them when they’re sleeping. One wonders where he finds time to monitor every child in the world in between sexually molesting his army of elves and whipping the crap out of his eight tiny reindeer.

So if you’re flummoxed trying to pinpoint the origin of the holiday madness, look no further than your friendly Christmas songbook. Our team of songwriters is working around the clock to come up with some less intimidating holiday hits such as

- I’m Dreaming of a non-race-specific Holiday gathering – All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth… and a PSP – Silent Night, holy shit buy me a Tickle Me Elmo NOW – It’s Beginning to Look a lot like another crappy sweater from grandma

And many other instant Christmas favourites. If you don’t buy them, the baby Jesus will come down your chimney and burn your fucking house down.