Cracka Rappa Lack-a?

“Do these pants make my boner look fat?”

Hey folks! Exciting news! Recent events in my life have inspired me to undertake a fresh and super-interesting life direction. What kind of recent events in a person’s life could cause such a potentially ill conceived great decision? Why nothing less than the White Person Triumvirate of Life Experience Awesomeness: Unaccomplished Life Goals, Divorce, and Self-Pitying Depression! Awesome really doesn’t do it justice, people. We might even be talking super awesome here. So anyhow, the other day I was sitting around my swinging bachelor pad on my shitty futon in my underwear, feeling my ass fall asleep and munching on a Pizza Pop when it occurred to me. What the world needs now is a fresh new take on music! Sure we’ve got Lady Gaga, a true inspiration to drag queens and bulimic pre-pubescent girls everywhere, and bands like Paramore keeping the Twi-Hards busy cutting themselves waiting for JacobWard to show up and sweep them off to the Netherworld, but who’s doing something for those of us that are rapidly approaching *ahem* middle age and yet still yearn for some measure of relevance? Well, how about me? I have always secretly yearned to live the life of the Suburban Cracka Rappa, and what better time than now to follow my dream? Christ knows I’ve got nothing better to do, and I’m getting a little tired of the nipple burns from the hot pizza sauce squirting out of the Pizza Pops. I know what you are thinking. There may be a few minor hurdles to overcome to reach my goals, and I agree. The biggest one obviously is the selection of my new Cracka Rappa name. I’ve decided that my musical approach will be to combine fresh new world music sounds with traditional hip-hop bitch-and-bling lyrics. Can you say numero uno with a bullet, people? I’ve rendered my choices down to three potential candidates and hopefully my three readers will be kind enough to weigh in and help me choose the winner:

Tae-Kwon Joe

This one is a no brainer really. Rappers love barbecue, and Suburban Cracka Rappas love Korean Barbecue (mall restaurant style, not the real thing). I had considered Kim-Jong Illin’ but decided against it due to the possibility of offending my shitty-music-hungry massive new media purchasing neighbours to the south. Shout out! Love ya ‘mericans! The possibility of Dear Leader issuing a copyright infringement assassination order did cross my mind too. The mashup of traditional North Korean Demigod worshipping dirges and ripped off David Guetta riffs combined with videos full of miniskirted Korean girls washing my Prius with their soapy body parts should be a sure fire recipe for success. Speaking of recipes, intercutting images of slow roasting succulent Korean barbecue in between the tits, ass, and mayonnaise product placements should be a hit with my target audience too. First single idea? How about a Korean/Cracka fusion of a Pat Benatar classic: Rove is a Batterfield?

Al-Playeda

There may be few risks associated with attempting to meld traditional Middle Eastern rhythms with shallow, materialistic, and godless western jams. Chief among them are the possibility of inciting a Fatwa and/or intense scrutiny from Homeland Security types. Truth is, that should be good for a few downloads anyway. Let’s face it, these people aren’t doing a great job of getting along, so maybe it’s time for a true leader to emerge and take the bullshit by the horns, so to speak. For obvious reasons that leader should be a Suburban Cracka Rappa. What are my qualifications for uniting these worlds with my musical culture fornication? Seriously? I negotiated the return of a broken Ab Roller once with a counting-the-minutes-until-suicide WalMart customer service rep without a receipt. Case closed, people. First single idea? How about a Bedouin/Cracka mashup of the Frank Sinatra classic All of Me called Allah Me? Just a sec, I’ll be right back there’s a guy knocking at my door with a cell phone in his hand and a strangely thick waistline for such a skinny fella.

Mo-Ko-Rruption

I chose this name based on my interest in merging the musical styles of Post-Soviet Russia with big-chain and sideways Zoo York hat white rap. Mostly I was inspired by the rich variety of post-communist Russian music video fodder. If you had to make a checklist of stuff you need for a rap video, Russia can hook you up, be-i-ee-i-yotch! Slutty scantily clad new-money big haired tramps? Check. Tanks, fighter planes, and Nukes? Check. Scary sunglass-at-night wearing motherfuckers with freaky tats and guns? Check. More potato vodka than you could use in a lifetime of Cracka Rappa videos (a lifetime of Cracka Rappa videos=three)? Checkaroo. Getting a Russian manager would be a great idea too. It should only take about eight or ten A&R guys to show up in the trunks of abandoned stolen cars until a bidding war breaks out for a big music label to have me on their roster and promote the shit out of me. First single idea? Putin’ on the Ritz. I am sure the dude from Taco could use a royalty cheque. Super badly.

Great Moments in Scientific Achievement, Part Deux

Man, it has been a while since I stopped around these parts to drop a healthy dollop of smarmalade on the world, but things have been just a little crazy these last few months. In no particular order: I was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in Blogerature (It’s new), awarded to “Blogerati that strive to push the boundaries of inconsequential meanderings to pathetic Death Valley-like lows.” I appeared on a tear-jerking episode of The Oprah Winfrey Show to tell my heartbreaking story of the childhood sexual abuse I suffered by my own hands. You should have seen the eyes well up when I detailed how bad the abuse got during puberty, particularly during the perilous month following the publication of Sports Illustrated’s annual swimsuit issue. I appeared in a fawning interview segment on The O’Reilly Factor to promote my new unauthorized biography of Barack Obama, “I, Devil.” Bill is so much nicer in person and when you’re on the same page as him! Hmm, what else have I been up to? Oh, yeah. Fuck all. Lately, however, the odd news item has grabbed my attention and forced me to acknowledge the world around me. Since I have a particular interest in all things scientific, I found the following tidbits of momentous scientific achievement too amazing to not share with those of you who haven’t actually literally decomposed waiting for my next post:

Bangladeshi (yes, that’s a real word dickhead) Scientists Have Sequenced the Genome of Jute!

Remember me? You don’t? Well, up yours then.

Aaah, Jute. Back in the ‘70s you were all over the place, popping up in Macrame crafts and all sorts of little woven boxes to hold pot and umm… other pot. You carried the feminist flag high with your formless, unflattering, scratchy fashions that all but guaranteed no disgusting man would even attempt to try and touch anyone wearing you. You really were the belle of the fashion-less ball. Unfortunately, the ‘80s came along, and spandex and PVC arrived to celebrate -nay, glorify- the female form, and you were kicked right the fuck to the curb where you belonged all along, with your unwashed hippie cousin hemp. So what have you been up to all this time? Apparently waiting for advances in genomic sequencing so that you could pounce back into the world spotlight! Somehow you used your trickery and subterfuge to convince Bangladeshi (still a real word) scientists that discovering your genome’s secrets was important enough to ignore other silly little issues troubling the plucky nation of Bangladesh. Issues like child labour, poverty, malnutrition, and death. Good for you, Jute! Child labour, poverty, malnutrition, and death? Sorry, better luck next time.

Danish Scientists Have Developed a Gum For Kenyan Kids Fortified With the Goodness of Vitamin A!

“No, kids, no food today! We have something even better for you! That’s right! It’s gum!”

Leave it up to the Dutch to come up with a truly wonderful solution to the pesky problem of African hunger. Danish scientists from a company in Dutchmark called Gumlink have developed a gum containing Vitamin A to be given to malnourished African children. Gumlink? The company’s name sounds like every pack of gum should come with a wireless router or Bluetooth device of some sort. Christ the Dutch are weird. Anyhoo, these brilliant scientists, working together with the Kenyan Ministry of Health and Bad Corporate Team Up Decisions developed the gum to be marketed to 3 to 5 year old children to help enhance that target demographic’s health status. Oh, and I meant marketed. I misspoke earlier when I said they were going to give it to the children. My bad. Some casual observers (me) questioned the value of spending all that money to design a gum when it could have been spent on say, food, for the starving kids. However a remarkably well-fed representative from Gumstink assured me that the development cost could have, at most, fed all the kids in Africa for only 3 or 4 years, and everyone knows most people want to live a lot longer than that! Glad we cleared that up, Crazy Danes.

Scientists Developing “Female Viagra” Report Test Results Depressingly Flaccid

“But Dear, I didn’t take my Viagra yet!” “Don’t worry, honey-bunch,I’ve got an enormous chemically-induced chick-boner.”

Scientists revealed recently that clinical trials of the so called “female Viagra,” a drug called Flibanserin, failed to show any difference in female arousal when compared with a placebo. Hmm. I wonder why. When pressed to further clarify results from the study, the scientists pointed out that the arousal of a female turns out to be a much more complicated process than the arousal of a male, which consists chiefly of getting a woody and pointing it at something. I am sure the name “Flibanserin” didn’t help either. When you hear the word “Viagra” it conjures up vague images of impressive, waterfall sized boners and orgasmic crescendos. When you hear the word “Flibanserin” you think of a shitty Robin Williams Disney movie and nerve gas. Talk about a female boner-killer. The nerve gas angle is a bit of a buzzkill too. The scientists also admitted that although the drug had promise biochemically, it did nothing to help with women’s resentment about their partner’s ever-increasing spare tires and inability to deliver on any of the promises they had ever made. They also had an awfully hard time fitting the Brad Pitt and Clive Owen bodysuits into the little pill bottles. They conceded that for now, women would have to make do with the tried and true method of female arousal: humping someone who’s better than their partner.

Fly On The Wall

Haven’t we all wished at some point in our lives that we could be the proverbial “fly on the wall” and listen in on someone’s conversations? Maybe you wished you could have overheard what your parents were talking about in their bedroom when you showed up back home from summer camp a few pounds overweight…well, pregnant actually. The water glass against their bedroom wall let you make out a few shouted words like: “shameless” and “whore” but you have no way of knowing if they were used in a sentence like: “Thank God our daughter isn’t some shameless whore.” That’s probably what it was though. Or maybe it would have been neat-o to hear what your college roommate’s friend had to say about you after you took her on that blind date your roommate set up. Christ knows you never got the chance to ask her yourself, what with the stupid restraining order and all.

We here at Oh, For ****’s Sake spend an inordinate amount of time wondering about what goes on behind closed doors, mostly because a lot of those doors get closed right in our face when we try to enter them. Through the miracle of technology, and a none-too conservative dose of peyote fueled hallucino-imagination, we’ve been able to listen in on and/or fabricate some of the everyday goings on of some of our cultural elite. For clarity’s sake, the transcripts include the speaker’s names in order to avoid possible confusion:

At Home With Tom Cruise, Katie Holmes, and Suri Cruise:

“Pardon me? Oh, gosh no! Tom doesn’t run! He holds on to the baby when I go for a run to make sure I come back! He’s real helpful with my motivation. To stay with him, that is.”

Tom: Katie! Kaaatiiee! Where are you Katie?!

Katie: I’m right here Tom, across the dining room table from you. I’ve been here the whole time. You can put Suri back in her high chair now.

Tom: Oh, thank goodness! I though you had run off and I was going to have to, you know.

Suri: Does Mommy need to go back to the Scienterology center for more training Daddy?

Tom: Maybe Honey, we’ll see.

Suri: She probably should Daddy, she’s acting like a real asshole.

Tom: Yes she is, Suri. Yes she is.

Kicking Around the House With Gerard Butler and Jennifer Aniston:

They seem so perfectly content together. In split screen.

Jen: Brad, have you seen my cigarettes?

Ger: I think you threw them out the car window again when that paparazzo just about caught you lighting up back at the grocery store. I can go and get you a new pack if you want, Rachel.

Jen: Would you Brad? That is so nice, it’s just like something Brad would do.

Ger: Hey Rachel, it’s the least I can do. After all you did say you were going to invite Monica over for a threesome this afternoon. I think I’ll stop by Industrial Light and Magic on the way and have them CGI back in my abs for this afternoon as a special treat for you girls.

Jen: That would be wonderful Brad! And I know you would never do something like that for Angelina would you? Well, WOULD YOU??!!

A Little Light Pillow Talk With James Cameron and Satan:

Funny, the Devil on the shoulder is quite a bit bigger in real life than generally represented in the mainstream animation media (cartoons).

James: Well, I’ve got the two biggest grossing movies of all time now, asterisks be damned. I don’t even know what I need you for anymore.

Satan: Hey, what the Hell? I give you all this, make you King of the World, and this is the thanks I get? A wham-bam, thank you Satan? I’m the King of the Underworld, we make a Hell of a great team. *Sigh*, I’ve really got to quit beating people over the head with the “Hell” thing.

James: I just feel like I’ve accomplished a lot, and you got your fair share what with all the people that committed suicide after forcing themselves to sit all the way through Avatar.

Satan: Hey, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate all of the damned souls, I just don’t see why we can’t keep the ball rolling. You must have countless more pedestrian, childish screenplays up your sleeve, and I can keep casting the spells over the world to make them love them. Except the fucking critics! Of all the people for God to favour, why the critics?

James: Well now that you mention it, I do have a few ideas. More like ham-fisted simplistic notions really, but hey, that’s your department to help with that!

So Many “Sides” to Every Story

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2009, The Year in Rear-View

Finally, the holiday season is over. I think. I’ve been a little out of the loop for awhile, what with the Shitmas insanity, skull-crushing stress inducing work situation, and general festive season malaise (I think malaise is French for “Fuck, enough of this shit for one year, already!). I also made the mistake of going to watch Avatar, which took up the better part of the last two weeks. Jesus, that was one long movie, thank goodness the message was so uplifting and deep and inspiring and moving and heavy-handed and browbeating and super-awesome….aw, Christ, I just threw up on myself. I’ll be back in a minute.

There! Fresh as a daisy. Nothing a quick wipe with an antibacterial Lysol wipe, a snazzy new pair of Underoos and a freshly mixed Tom Collins can’t fix! Now where was I? Oh yeah, I was celebrating the end of the festive season and dreading the countdown to the beginning of the next Shitmas shopping season which begins on July 31st for 2010, I think. Another thing about Avatar? What do you think will come out on top, Avatar’s worldwide box office gross or charitable donations to the Haitian relief effort? I think I know, but I sure hope I’m wrong. And on a related note: Pat Robertson, you are truly a godless douchebag. Seriously, you have taken douchenificence to a whole new level with that “pact with the Devil” thing. Oh, well, I can take some comfort in the fact that you will get a chance soon to ask him yourself, you ain’t exactly a Spring Chicken anymore Patty-boy.

Now that we are a couple of weeks into the new year, I thought I would take a little time to reflect on some of the events of 2009 that I found interesting, presented here in no particular order:

Health Care Reform in The Good Ol’ U.S. of A – holes

Ha Ha! That idiot spelled “Honkies” wrong, and that woman cut the “Barely” off the top of her sign!

Now this was some good stuff. I never got tired of watching blood-pressure controlled, Type II diabetic oldsters shrieking and shouting and sign-waving, spittle and dentures inadvertently flying from their mouths in Town Hall meetings all across America. C’mon, you have to admit that took some serious sack for those poor politicians to face those insane mobs. Wouldn’t the people in the photo above be happy to know that when their morbid obesity finally claims their ability to work and pay for health insurance, the government will provide a feeding tube for them to mainline pureed Big Macs free of charge? Just what have the angry mobs heard anyway? I hope no one told them what we do here in Canada. It’s not so much of a Logan’s Run type of thing, it’s more of a put-the-old-folks- and-sickies-on-an-ice-floe-for-cheap-cooling in preparation for a Soylent Green type of thing.

Celebrities Behaving Awesomely, Awesomelessly, and Deatheningly

In retrospect, Taylor Swift should be happy it was this guy coming at her and not Tiger Woods.

As usual celebrities kept us entertained with all of their wacky hijinks. Good ol’ Kanye descended further into madness and scared the living shit out of Taylor Swift, much to our collective amusement. A note of advice to Taylor: If you are ever about to be interrupted on stage mid-speech again, just quickly turn sideways as the perp is approaching, and they won’t be able to see you. Could someone from the “Health Care Reform” picture above lend her a piece of pizza? Susan Boyle became an instant celebrity and overnight YouTube sensation, plucking the heartstrings of millions with her surprising singing talent. Surprising on account of you know, because she didn’t look like Britney Spears (if Britney had talent). It’s amazing. Who knew normal-looking people could sing? Except maybe the reality-bending producers of Britain’s Got Talent. You have heard of preliminary auditions, haven’t you people? Finally, the music world and the world of loser fans with nothing better to do than worship creepy transparent kiddie touchers lost an icon this year, when Wacko Jacko died from an overdose of….some sort of intravenous sedative that he used to help him sleep? What the Hell? Celebrities lives are even more amazing than I thought, and so are their deaths! “I’m gonna let y’all finish in a minute, I just wanna say that Elvis had one of the best celebrity deaths of all time!” Yeah, yeah. Fuck off, Kanye.

Not to be outdone by Michael Jackson, the world economy continued it’s own downward death spiral, taking yours, mine, and the guy next door’s job with it. Charmingly, it was nice enough leave CEOs relatively unscathed, as Canadian reports of average CEO earnings being 174 times the average worker’s salary emerged. Can you imagine the talk in the C-Suites after that little shit-nugget of news popped out? I can imagine it went something like this: “174 times?! 174!? Are you serious? Nobody orders 174 Mercedes! I mean a number like 175 or 200, I can understand, but 174? What kind of a stupid number is that? Let’s pull our fucking socks up and try harder next year people!”

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge Tiger’s contributions to the world that was 2009. Undercover Brother was right, the skinny blonde white woman truly is “Black Man’s Kryptonite.” Hey Tiger, I hear Kate Gosselin is on the market. She’s got a wee bit of baggage, but she doesn’t golf so you shouldn’t have to spend as much time ducking nine irons.

Thanksgiving? Oh, That Reminds Me, Time to Start Thinking About Christmas!

So today was Black Friday in the good ‘ol US of A. Black Friday? What kind of a name is that for the day after Thanksgiving? Or for that matter, for the traditional first day of the Christmas shopping season? After a great deal of searching through the Encyclopedia Britannica (you might be more familiar with it as “Wikipedia”), I discovered that the term Black Friday originated as term of disdain leveled at the day by Philadelphia city police officers that had to deal with the traffic jams full of morons swarming downtown in search of discounted white patent leather platform boots and pinstripe bell bottom pants among other must-have Christmas gift items. What? No, I’m not talking about the ‘70s, it’s Philadelphia for Christ’s sake! Come to think of it, why the hell is Thanksgiving so bloody late down there anyway? We have ours here in Canada in October, which is the time of year that Canadian statisticians roughly estimate the season of Fall to occur. It’s a little tough to tell what with Spring being from about March 1st to 15th, and Summer being from approximately March 16th to April 1st or so. Basically the leaves start to turn any time after that. If they’ve been able to burst forth through the permafrost, that is. Depends on the year. Hopefully this year the Slack-Jawed Friday shoppers left most of their guns at home so you didn’t have too many more incidents like last year when two men in Palm Desert, California shot each other to death after arguing over a toy in a local Toys “R” Us store. That reminds me of a funny Weird Al Yankovic song parody of Green Day’s “American Idiot” called “Canadian Idiot” in which Weird Al sneers that Canadians go to the mall and don’t even pack heat. It’s not quite as funny in real life for the traumatized tots and pants-pissing parents that had to witness that psychotic bullshit go down in Palm Desert, I would imagine. What a fucking nuthouse. Well, all that being said, there is definitely a chill in the air, and I don’t think it’s only from the amassed glacial intellects lined up all over the US for Sarah Palin book signings (Make your X, Sarah!).

I guess it is time to start thinking about Shitmas Christmas, as much as we don’t want to. It’s not like it’s been a great year for everyone, and times are tough all over, with the possible exception of the C-Suite dickheads, who seem to have weathered the storm on boats constructed of wads of government stimulus cash. I guess I shouldn’t be so cynical, I mean if we didn’t have monster salaries and bonuses for shittily performing CEOs, what would the guy who cleans the toilets for minimum wage have to aspire to? I mean really, would anyone want a job in the Big Office if they had to go to work in a Cadillac instead of a Bentley? How embarrassing. That’s not the attitude our countries were built on, people! So in that spirit, I have amassed a short list of Christmas gift suggestions for the person who wants everything, from the person who has nothing:

How about a wacky European General Motors Division?

“Do you have any idea what my shirt says? Fuck no, I don’t have a goddamn clue.”

For some reason, the bright lights at General Motards decided at the last minute that it was a bad idea to sell Opel to Canadian autoparts giant Magna International. Apparently they have decided they know how to make money now (Hint: go broke through stupidity, get government bailout, start to tell everyone you know what you’re doing again). Well, Magna’s loss is your gain! Obviously GM will go tits-up again soon, probably well before Christmas so here’s your chance to give someone a very unique gift at a bargain-basement price. It’s not every day you can buy a lazy, overstuffed, heavily unionized, 35 hour per week working matchbox-car making company with the money left on your Visa’s credit limit. And just think, next year you can give everyone in your family an Opel in their stocking!

Or Maybe Dubai!

“I’m a little teapot, short and stout…”

I know what you’re thinking. How can I afford Dubai? Well, at this price, how can you afford not to buy it? I mean even for the friend who has everything, I bet they don’t own a pie-in-the-sky wannabe Arab Las Vegas (minus the tits, ass, booze, and fun). I hear it’s going up on Ebay early next week so it can sell in time for Christmas and get this: no reserve! Better get your sniping hand ready though, because rumour has it that Herbert Walker Bush himself has his sights set on it for Sonny-Boy for Christmas. It’s also rumoured he plans to change the name to Dubya, just to rub Iran and the Taliban’s face in it. Don’t waste any time, you’d better get practicing on some other in-demand Ebay items like Lindsay Lohan’s pride (why she ever sold it in the first place, we’ll never know, she badly needs it now), and that Yankee World Series home-run ball the Phillies fan threw back on the field (priceless!).

Or Even…H1N1!

Health: 1, Dignity: 0

Okay, maybe giving someone a dread set of the sniffles isn’t the nicest thing a person could do at Christmas, but let’s face it, the person who has everything is probably also insulated from all of the grubby peasants and their infections and pestilence. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for them! They were probably too stupid to even go and get vaccinated, thinking that their rarified Country Club air is unlikely to carry the bugs of the unwashed masses. Some great people to think of for this heartfelt gift are say, your rich condescending neighbours, or even your boss (and his boss!). The best part is, it’s all but free! You probably haven’t been able to get a shot yet anyway due to silly obligations like working two jobs and caring for flu-ridden relatives. All you have to do is head down to your local hospital, lick a few doorknobs and elevator buttons and you should be in business. As you sit in your cubicle trying to do your work through your fevered haze, your boss will probably come around with everyone’s Christmas bonus of a month’s free parking in the company lot or a voucher for two free coffees in the break room or something. Make sure you give him a big hug to thank him, and Oops! cough right in his stupid face! Oh, and those neighbours? Make sure the next time you take their mail to them from the mailbox at the end of their driveway that you slobber all over it, real thorough-like.

Hopefully some of these thrifty, yet unique gift ideas help you with the difficult task of Christmas shopping this year! What’s that? Christ no, I do not want a hug you goddamned Typhoid Mary wannabe! Sorry Mom, I guess that was a little harsh. Maybe we could hug next year?

Apple © Brand-y

“Yes, folks, this baby can make large numbers of dollar bills disappear from your wallet at speeds darn near the speed of light!”

Know who this guy is? You don’t? Seriously? Well, for the six people out in the world who don’t know, the man in the picture above is none other than Steve Jobs, founder of Apple Computers, all around nice guy, and the free will-sucking Dark Lord of Branding Vampires. Steverino has posed in a similar position to the one above at countless media-blitz new product launches and annual general meetings for Apple shareholders, exuberantly extolling the virtues of the newest must-have Apple product. He’s been there for the launch of the iPod, iPod Nano, the Macintosh, the Macbook, the iPhone, and others. He’ll probably be there for the launch of the iPod Nano-Nano (sorry Mork) and the iPerfectSpouse as well. It isn’t Steve’s ebullient personality and deep commitment to the Apple product line that sets him apart from other pocket-lining corporate head honchos. No, the thing that sets him apart has been his ability to brand the Apple products in a fashion not seen since Coke became an all around word for a cola soft drink. Mmm. A nice fresh Coke would taste great about now. I think I’ll go get one…I’m back, and boy was that Coke refreshing! What!? I’ve got to pay the bills too, you know. Anyway, back to Steve. When was the last time you saw a movie in which an actor opened a laptop that wasn’t a Macbook? Yeah, yeah, I saw 2012 too. That must have cost Sony one pretty penny to outbid Jobs. How about the last time you heard some moron call any kind of MP3 player an “iPod?” Hell, after all those Lame PC Guy vs. Cool Mac Dude commercials, I sometimes feel like committing suicide when I switch on my PC to check my email or write a blog post. At the very least, I feel like I should try to be a little more like Justin Long or maybe get the same haircut. That way people could just assume I was a cool Mac user as long as I never let them enter my home.

Steve has certainly gotten the Apple brand out there, that’s for sure. His latest endeavour, however, might raise a few eyebrows. After a generous donation to Stanford University and a rumoured tidying up of the remaining relatives of Alfred Binet, Jobs has acquired the rights to the Stanford-Binet IQ Test. Through deep subterfuge and fabrication, in an operation that cost the lives of several undercover operatives and a half-dozen jelly doughnuts, Oh, For ****’s Sake! has managed to obtain a copy of the first page of the new IQ test, renamed, innocently enough the iQ Test. Although the questions seem vaguely familiar to anyone who has previously taken a standardized intelligence test, there are subtle differences, which are apparent to the trained eye:

iQ Test

Question 1:

If all Windows users are losers, and all losers are Windows users, how many loser Windows users are actually loser users?

A. All of them.

B. Every one of them.

C. The whole sorry goddamn lot.

D. Especially that Lame PC Guy from the commercial.

Question 2:

Rearrange the following words and letters to make a phrase:

YUB NA DOPi

When you have rearranged the phrase to the correct form, what does the phrase say?

A. The best darn thing I’ve heard all day.

B. A truly great idea.

C. Something wonderful.

D. The solution to blissful happiness.

Question 3:

STEVE JOBS is to GOD as GOD is to:

A. STEVE JOBS

B. STEVE JOBS

C. STEVE JOBS

D. The guy who runs Apple. Yep. STEVE JOBS

Question 4:

What number logically comes next in this sequence of new Apple product price points?:

$199, $299, $399, $499, …

A. All numbers above $499 in $100 multiples.

B. Whatever the market will bear.

C. I have to have it! Who gives a shit what it costs!?

D. The sky’s the limit, and even that isn’t a given.

Question 5:

What human emotion is the equivalent of the following symbol?:

A. Joyous happiness and joy.

B. Loving loveness.

C. Joyful Loving

D. All consuming envy and greed, much like the apple in the Garden of Eden.

As you can see folks, Steve has once again done a great job of insinuating the Apple brand into another facet of our daily lives. Heck, I only ever take one bite out of an apple before I throw it away now, it just seems so aesthetically pleasing at that point that it would be a shame to keep eating it. Even though I have blown the whistle on Jobs’ latest branding project, I still hope to one day be cool enough to own an Apple product. I’ve been practicing my disaffected, hands-in-pocket poser stance and air of repugnant superiority, so I’m at least half way there.