Miller Lite- Triple Hops Brewing
Trying to convince us that the process through which you make your beer makes it superior is just plain faulty logic. Nevermind that the Sam Adams guys are doing the exact same thing by interviewing actual factory workers, and that anyone with taste buds knows that Sam Adams tastes way better than the tree bark aftertaste of Miller Lite. The way I will choose my beer is through whichever product's commercials has the most twins (or triplets) not whichever beer has the largest number of steps to create.

Bud Light- Drinkability
Lets forget for a second that someone thought it would be a good idea to have commercials featuring a guy drawing random objects with some sort of Chalk Zone type stick then making painfully unfunny puns. This ad is absolutely terrible. Maybe if someone is choosing their first beer to have at a bonfire in the woods he might choose the smooth texture of Bud Light, but anyone who has actually sipped it knows that "drinkability" is code for "watery."

Coors Light- Cold Activated Can
I can just imagine how this meeting went down:
Coors Light CEO: OK fellas, we're getting killed out there in sales. Tell me what you can do for me.
Genius: Well, sir, I dunno if you've tasted our product, but when it's warm, it tastes, at best, like deer piss. When it's cold, it's more manageable. I say we market it as the only "cold" beer.

When your only option is marketing your product's container over the product itself, you know you're in a hole. Just go back to making fun of NFL coaches and I'll go back to sipping my vented can.

Was it just me or was this the single jumpiest episode ever? We started with 6 different storylines to flash between: flashbacks involving JACOB (Jesus Christ that was awesome), Locke leading his people to Jacob, Radzinsky and Chang arguing at the Swan station, Jack & Sayid with past Richard, the "What lies in the shadow of the statue" gang, and Juliet, Kate, and Sawyer. Luckily, Jack's and Sawyer's group met up, and the Shadow of the Statue gang didn't get as much airtime as I would've liked, but it made the episode actually coherent and less like Heroes.Here's what went down in a faulty bundle of plutonium:

Producer: Gentlemen, thank you for coming. We invited you all here today out of respect and admiration for your craft. Each of you have had multiple songs that were popular with the college aged demographic, the group we believe to be most important and influential. Specifically we brought you here to give us a few pointers on how to make a dynamic bro band. We want the chilliest band EVER. Like, literally, we want this band to induce weed-like trances just from one listen. OK, so let's start brainstorming. Just throw out anything you think might help. Jack, can you start?

Jack Johnson: Well obviously it's going to be an acoustic rock band?

Producer: Yes, yes of course.

Ben Harper: That's good, but make sure there's a black guy in the band. Super chill.

Producer: Oooh good idea. That will be mega chill.

Aaron Eckhart only had one lead role (Thank You For Smoking) under his belt when he was cast in a romantic comedy about a pretentious chef (Zeta-Jones) who is forced to raise her niece after her sister dies in an accident. Eckhart plays the smarmy sous-chef who defrosts the bitter Zeta-Jones. After seeing him in Dark Knight it seems laughable that he would take this role, but I'm sure he was looking for his big break, so I'll give him a slight pass.

Here's one thing you need to know about me: I f*cking love Diane Lane, and therefore I would never fault anyone for taking an opportunity to make-out with her. But seriously, John Cusack? You were in Say Anything, so I know you know how to recognize a good love story when you see one. But online dating, dog parks, and trailer homes are three things that should not be grouped together.

CEO: OK, people, we've got a great lineup of programming so far. We air reruns of movies and TV that everyone feels comfortable with. Real middle of the road comedy, nothing too explicit. Great job.

Guy 1: Yeah, like Friends and Seinfeld.

CEO: Exactly. 90's sitcoms. Everyone loves them because everyone remembers them. Watching them is like putting on a forgotten pair of sweatpants.

Guy 2: We've also got King of Queens and Everybody Loves Raymond.

CEO: That's it right there. That's our bread and butter, the family comedy. That's what people can relate to and feel comfortable with.

Guy 3: OK, so what's up, boss?

CEO: Well, I think we've reached that veritable point of success when it's time to make a foray into the great unknown: original programming.

Guy 1: Interesting, very interesting. Do you have anything in mind?

CEO: Well, we need to appeal to a large variety of demographics without upsetting anyone. What funny black guys do we know?

Guy 2: D.L. Hughley?

CEO: He's been done. Kind of played out.

Guy 3: Chris Rock

CEO: Taken.

Guy 1: Tyler Perry?

CEO: Who?

Believe it or not, they're not looking to shoot you.

Guy 1: You know...Tyler Perry...made a lot of movies...pretty popular, among black people. Pretty tame style of comedy, though. Real family centered.

CEO: Perfect! OK, now what can we do to offset the black audience? Do we know of any family oriented Southern comics?

Guy 2: Jeff Foxworthy?

CEO: He's already had a show. Did you not watch TV 12 years ago, man?

Guy 2: Ron White?

CEO: Too drunk.

Guy 3: Larry the Cable Guy

CEO: Too incoherent. Plus, he's taken too. He's busy making terrible movies.

Guy 1: Bill Engvall?

CEO: Who?

Guy 1: You know...Bill Engvall. The fourth in their little group. He does a lot of family comedy.

CEO: Perfect! Wow! Another great suggestion, Guy 1!

Guy 1: There's just one thing though...

CEO: What? What could it possibly be?

Guy 1: Well...ask anyone...Bill Engvall is almost universally considered the least funny of the foursome.

CEO: No, no, no, Guy 1. Not least funny, least controversial. He'll be fantastic.

Guy 1: I guess...

CEO: OK, I think we need one more show...good things come in threes, ya know? Something wacky, though. Like, not a normal premise.

Guy 2: How about John Lithgow as an alien from another planet?

CEO: OK, now I know you're f*cking with me.

Guy 3: How about like...like a comedy about working in an office?

CEO: Are you kidding? How can you work here and not watch TV? I mean, sh*t...I'm pretty sure that airs on OUR station!

Guy 1: How about a show with a girl main character who only has guy friends.

CEO: You have a gift, my friend.

Guy 1: Oh, that's a great idea! Jim Gaffigan could be in it!

CEO: Who?

The best part about My Boys? How hot she is.

Guy 1: Jim Gaffigan. He's a comedian. He's hilarious. He does a bit about how Easter doesn't make sense, and another making fun of the Pope.

CEO: Hmmm...sounds a little racy, but I trust you, Guy 1. He can be in the show, but he's only going to get a minor role.

Guy 1: That seems like a waste, but I guess it's better than nothing.

CEO: Don't worry. I've got the perfect new slogan. "Very Funny." So simple, so pure, so uncontroversial.  Plus, people always believe what they hear. Now, let's get something purely for the ladies. How about that Sex and the City show on HBO. We'll bring it here, but take out all the sex and language to make it more accessible.

Guy 1: Sir, I quit.

The true test of a man.

                Today's the day, the day I've waited my 8 years of life for. It's the Kick and Catch playoff championship semifinal battle royale explosion. I've come far in my days as a Kick and Catch warrior. I fought off the stings of misplayed balls and the sting of Greg Saunders's insults when he called me a scab eating booger brains after I beat him. I never should have taken on the most popular kid in the third grade, but now that I've come this far, it's rubber playground balls to the wall. I've survived the pain of jammed fingers and the pain of awkward growth spurts.  I've survived humiliating losses and the humiliation of having the extra pair of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles underwear that my mom packed for me falling out through a hole in my back pack. Not really Kick and Catch related, but embarrassing nonetheless.

                But, I've finally made it here, after my greatest setback to date: I got a check minus minus on my language arts quiz, and I was given the opportunity to stay in at recess and retake the test, but I wouldn't miss this match if my butthead teacher, Mrs. Arnold, threatened to steal my Pokémon cards, and I swear to you I have all the holograms. After all, so what if I don't know how to form the letter "s" in cursive? All I want to do is kick. And catch. And dance. But that's a story for another day. 

This man is actually in the third grade.

Until that day, I must defend my honor as a playground gladiator. I'm the King of Kick and I wear the crown of Catch. I'm the sultan of the swing set, and the tsar of the monkey bars. I wear the heavyweight title of the world for my exploits in this arena. I own this.

3 days later at a parent teacher conference:

Mrs. Arnold: Your son was given the opportunity to retake a test, and instead chose recess. He now has an "N" in my class, which as you know means "not Satisfactory."

Mom to me: You're grounded. No dessert.

Me: What the heck, Mrs. Arnold? What the heck?

There is not a single picture on Google Images of the Temple Guards.

Carl: *Puts an arm around his wife* Well, I'm glad to announce that I'm happily married to my wife Patricia and she just gave birth to our second baby girl in May.

*everyone claps and exchanges genuinely happy looks*

Speaker: Congratulations, Carl! I can't wait to see photos of your new baby, and I'm very glad to see you brought your oldest daughter Rebecca.

Everyone: Hi, Rebecca!

Speaker: Andy, why don't you continue? What have you been up to since 1995?

Andy: Well, I've been working hard at the job. I was recently promoted to deputy chief of the Pearview County Mall. Soon, I hope to be made regional chief. I gotta tell ya, guys, it may just be mall security but I've never had such a rewarding job. Except of course for those two wonderful years I spent on site with all of you. *He grins sheepishly and the two men sitting next to him stand a give him brotherly hugs.*

Speaker: Ed, how about you?

Ed: Well, I had some trouble initially converting back to civilian life, but I finally found a job. I'm a bouncer at a bar in the city, and it's awesome! I'm like P. Swayze in RoadHouse!

Carl: Badass, man! Congrats!

*They all continue to go around the circle telling their success stories about their lives after the show*

Speaker: Well, now that we're all reacquainted, feel free to mingle amongst yourselves. The buffet will start in about 25 minutes. It's been great seeing all of you again.

*A man, obviously drunk, stumbles into the convention center*

Speaker: *Under his breath* Shit...how did he find out about this.

Drunk: Hey, hey, hey, mothafuckas! You thought you wouldn't tell me about this little party, but Olmec always knows where you are.

Speaker: You think you're Olmec, now? Fuck, Pete, you're not Olmec! He's a giant stone figurehead!

His face may be stone, but his wisdom is real.

Pete/Drunk: *snaps* I know I'm not Olmec! Olmec only told me where you were!

Speaker: Oh...

Pete: Aren't you going to ask me what I've been doing with my life?

Speaker: How did you...

Pete: I'm sneaky, bitch! I'm a mo'fuckin' temple guard!

Speaker: Touché. OK, Pete, what have you been doing with your life since....uh...you left the show?

Pete: Well, I was acquitted, if you must know. Thank God for those matching uniforms, eh, Bob? The dumb skank couldn't say 100% that it was me who attacked her!

Speaker: Oh, God, you sicken me.

Carl: He was always so gung ho about grabbing the children...

Pete: I mean, I defended the Mask of Shaka Zulu, the Mush Pot Hat of Johnny Appleseed, and the Smashed Printing Plate of Frederick Douglass from the dirty, disgusting clutches of preteen boys and the elegant, seductive fingers of preteen girls, but I tell ya, it wasn't nearly as hard as protecting myself from the monotonous rants of Judge Wilhelm! He just wouldn't stop yammering about how I was a morally deviant human being. Blah, blah, blah.

Andy: You're like the Devil, only worse. Who knows how many women you got to before the show caught on. You must've been backstage for 15 minutes with each one after you captured them during their quest.

Pete: Please, Andy, show me some respect; they were girls, not women. And I don't know why you're so upset about this. Let's just say, when those kids were jumping around all happy as the end credits rolled, it wasn't just because they won a week at Space Camp.

*Carl's wife whimpers from her hiding place behind her husband. Gary turns and notices Carl's daughter for the first time*

Pete: Gary! I didn't know you had a daughter. My, look at those shoulders. So sinewy, so taut. I bet she would've put that silver monkey together in record time.

*Everyone laughs despite themselves*

Andy: Please, we all know no one ever won. 3 minutes to get through 12 rooms? That's like trying to not be attracted to Kirk Fogg's smile.

Kirk Fogg's smile was actually elected President of Colombia. Unfortunately, a military coup ended its reign.

Gary: Whatever, man. That's not important. What is important is little Rebecca here.

Pete: For God sakes, man! She's 9!

Gary: Whatevs, she's a tease. *Addressing Rebecca* What was your favorite team on the show, sweetie?

Rebecca: *Whimpering* The r-r-red j-j-jaguars.

Pete: Weird...I would have pegged you for a red FOX kind of girl. Get it?

Everyone: BOOOOOOOO! Boo this man!

Pete: Aww, fuck you guys.
Speaker: Aww, we love you man. Once a Temple Guard, always a Temple Guard.


Special thanks to rjlicursi, even though his name ends in a vowel, which means he's a dumb Italian.

*Some internet comic strip's headquarters*

Comic Strip Writer: Aww, fuck, man! I'm totally in the zone with these new comics. It's like I have an x-ray into people's minds to know what they think is funny!

Comic Strip Editor: OK, what've you got?

Comic Strip Writer: Well take this one. It's perfect. It's Kobe Bryant sweating. BUT the little sweat drops are ALIVE and having FUN!!!! ROFL! LMAO! I must be the dough boy because I'm whipping up a nice batch of Pillsbury LOLls!

Comic Strip Editor: I...I'm not sure I get it. What's the joke? Why is that funny? Because it's personification? Are poetry devices suddenly the end all be all of humor?

CSW: Huh...maybe I didn't explain it right. It's Kobe Bryant....and he's sweating...but the drops HAVE FACES!!!! Is it Christmas? Cuz I think I just decked the halls with boughs of LOLly!

CSE: That may be, in fact, the least funny thing I've ever heard. It doesn't even have topical humor going for it. You realize the NBA playoffs ended like 3 weeks ago, right? They're like the furthest thing from people's minds.

CSW: Aww, man. Are you a smoker? Cuz that's a serious drag. But here, check out what else I've got.

CSE: For the love of God and your job, I hope you're not wasting my time.

CSW: No, no, no of course not. Look at this one. College kids will love it.

CSE: What the fuck am I looking at?

CSW: *swelling in pride* Weeelllll...if you don't mind me bragging a little, this is my absolute best work. It's pure, unequivocal genius. It's the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, in their sewer, dressed as the enchanting whores of Sex and the City! It's called Sex and the Sewer! Get it?!? It's a play on words!!! I must be Indiana Jones, cuz I just found the LOLy grail!

CSE: .....

CSW: It appeals to every demographic! The nostalgic, the young at heart, the glamorous...

CSE: The retarded...

CSW: Oh, are we in IKEA? Cuz I think I just bought a wraparound OUCH. Just one more, sir. It'll blow you away, I promise. *Shuffles through portfolio* Oh! Here, try this one.

CSE: *Stares at image for a long time without looking up, but finally does, with a face full of unadulterated rage* What in the name of all that is funny in the world is this?

CSW: It's LARRY Bird and BIG Bird! I got the idea from a game of TriBond! "What's the same between Winnie the Pooh, Attilla the Hun, and Catherine the Great?" Their MIDDLE name! Get it? Larry BIRD, Big BIRD! They have the same LAST name! They could be brothers! LOLlipop!

CSE: What the fuck is TriBond? And, Lollipop? What? Do you have F.A.S?

CSW: No, no, no Lol-lipop....I guess that one doesn't really work.

CSE: Get the fuck out of my office.

CSW: You'll be sorry! One day, I'll find an internet site that will get my rare brand of humor! They'll post a new strip of mine every week!

CSE: I pity the poor bastards that would have to endure that...

http://www.collegehumor.com/article:1758645

http://www.collegehumor.com/article:1756158

http://www.collegehumor.com/article:1756740

            When you meet your roommate and your roommate's family for the first time, don't introduce yourself, don't help carry bags, in fact, don't move at all from where you've decided to seat yourself. Nothing makes a worried mother happier than to leave her child with an unhelpful, unfriendly sack. After all, your roommate's mother has probably been stressing all summer about the possibility that you would replace her in her child's heart. She is probably hoping that you'll be so unfriendly to her newly collegiate offspring that he will want to run right back into big mama's arms.

            When unpacking your bags, make sure to take up all of your closet space and half of your roommate's. That way, your roommate's mother will get to take half of her baby's clothes home with her, and never lose that smell around the house. If you are ever in need of extra space throughout the year, feel free to throw your roommate's clothes behind a dresser or under the bed to make room for your own articles of clothing. Your roommate's mother will be so appreciative that you dirtied her child's clothes, forcing your roommate to return home to do wash, that she'll probably make you a batch of cookies out of gratitude.

            This one is crucial. On the first night at your new residence with your new roommate, go to a party. Get drunk. Scratch that, get absolutely shitfaced. Make sure you and your roommate travel together, so when you leave, he has to as well. As soon as you reach the room, start puking. Puke on everything! The couch, the floor, your roommate's bed, and it would be a shame for your roommate's pictures from home to remain clean, so get those twice, just for good measure. Your roommate will have a new appreciation for his mother, and all the work she did cleaning. Once again, your roommate's mother will be so happy that you helped her son gain a newfound respect for cleanliness that she'll welcome you into the family.

            On a Tuesday night, when your roommate leaves to go to the library or the gym, throw a surprise party for him. Don't be too worried about inviting your roommate's friends though, just invite anyone you can find; but make sure they're obnoxious and belligerent; the louder and more violent, the better! If your roommate looks like he's not having fun at the party that you so graciously threw him, don't let him leave; don't take no for an answer! If he tries to escape to the bedroom, there's only one thing to do: get to the room before him, lock the door, and sex-ile your roommate all night. If the tiny dorm beds don't make him miss home, then the lumpy couch sure will! Your roommate's mother will be so overwhelmed that her little college student wants to come home again, that she'll make you a nice care package!

They call it a 12x12 dorm because you can actually fit 144 people in there if you try hard enough

            This only applies to those of you who have a kitchen in your room, so if you don't, move on to the next tip! If you have a kitchen, make sure to go grocery shopping a lot to keep your refrigerator stocked. Don't, however, take your roommate's monetary constraints into account. Buy every expensive thing you can find; after all, only name brand foods taste good. If your roommate tries to wiggle out of the bill and refuses to pay for the things you picked out, stand up for yourself! Don't let him con you into paying for your own food or lowering your culinary standards; this is college, you're supposed to dine with class! When you finally get that cheap-skate roommate to let you buy the food you want, bring it up to the apartment, but before putting it all away, take a break; watch some TV or take a nap, you can put those groceries away later. If, when you wake up, you find that your roommate has put all the groceries away, then consider yourself lucky; you have a pretty good roommate. So settle down with a snack from the fridge in celebration of your good fortune. Don't close the refrigerator door though, the food needs air to breathe; it tastes better that way. Your roommate might yell when he finds out, but hey, remember when he was complaining about all the food you bought? You did him a favor! Your roommate will probably call his mother to have her ship food, and she'll be so ecstatic that her darling misses her cooking, that she'll send over delicious treats for him and you. Make sure to eat his share of the food when he's out of the room, he's such a good roommate, he'd want you to have it.

Don't worry, your college's health center is almost too good at curing salmonella

    If your roommate is ever out of the room, look for leftover cash he may have left around. If you find any, take it. Finder's keepers. If you've done your job right, then your roommate will never notice that it's missing and may even think he's been spending all his money himself. If this goes on long enough, your roommate may even call home to request some extra funds. For once, your roommate's mom will not be happy. She'll wonder where all the cash has been going; she'll wonder why her son only calls when he needs something; she'll cut him off. Then, you'll have done your roommate the ultimate favor; you'll have given him a level of independence it takes most collegians 4 years to attain. He's no longer reliant on mommy, and mommy no longer has empty nest syndrome. Your work is done, but you can go ahead and keep stealing from him; he'll never know it was you.

Dear Faggots,

            There was a time when I was free to stand against change; I was an advocate of intolerance; I was a beacon of hatred. I was the burning cross that guided the pure believers of white, male, protestant supremacy. Because of your push for equality and freedoms, my flame has dimmed; my voice has grown mute. Stop. Can't you see the hypocrisy in your movement toward liberalism, the double standard of your beliefs? Your so-called fairness has trampled my right, as an American citizen, to promote bigotry and violence. Your principles have crushed the American ideals this country was founded on. The colors of the American flag do, apparently, run. They have become a rainbow, and there is no white in a rainbow.

            There was a time when religion stood for something. Christians used to sponsor crusades! They used to be highly trained defenders of a white God; they used to be ignorant and filled with loathing toward anyone who was different. Sure, some of us still picket soldier's funerals, and others make songs and propaganda about God hating you. Don't get me wrong, I smile inside every time I see an instance of a pureblood Christian upholding the high precedent of honor that his religion has proudly coveted throughout history, but it just doesn't happen enough anymore. There are actually debates about whether or not you should get married. Married! The marriage bond I share with my third wife is sacred. Those are the values I brought my six children up to believe, and I'm proud to say my kids from my first marriage seem to be following in their father's footsteps. How many children have sprung from your loins, gays? None. And that's the way it should always be.

            There was a time when men were free to be fat. There was a time when the Klan uniform represented justice; we were knights in blinding white armor. It didn't matter what we looked like, besides our skin color. Because of you, men are now expected to maintain a figure; your liberal ideas of health and moderation have poisoned the minds of Americans everywhere. The homosexual plague has spread into the mentality of once faithful straight men. The new style of metro-sexuality has forced me to cut the beard I had proudly displayed since I was twelve; my ponytail and beer gut are no longer considered distinguished features.  Because of you, my pasty skin, once thought to be the purist and noblest of all tones, has been replaced with the orange glow of one freshly tanned.

            Now is the time when I don't know what to believe, gays of America. In the old days, it used to be so easy to hate. It was white versus black; it was simple. Now, my country seems overrun by weirdos, and you're leading the way. I just don't have it in me anymore to keep fighting the good fight; I'm no longer in my prime, horse-riding, torch-waving shape; my heart is bound to collapse with the pressure. Maybe it's just me, gays, and maybe my morals have loosened, but I feel defeated; I'm waving the white hood of surrender. I offer congratulations to you, gays; you withstood our abuse for centuries. I ask only one thing: please take pity on an old, confused man; the shroud has been lifted from my eyes and it's as if I'm entering a new world. Guide me toward the right path; could you maybe start by giving me your number?