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Metallica Monopoly

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The lumbering giant of Monopoly marketing stomps ever-onward, leaving in its path such turds as Metallica Monopoly.

The manufacturer’s description is worth reading, only because you can tell some poor intern at Hasbro was stuck at work until he could come up with something better than “We threw 400 brand names on slips of paper into a box and this was one that we pulled out. Our species will heat the Earth until the ice melts and the land is submerged, and we will act surprised when the water begins to fill our sport-utility vehicles, angrily jabbing at the On-Star button until we are all dead.”

Fuel Doctor

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The Fuel Doctor is a $40 gadget you plug into the cigarette-lighter socket of your car, which supposedly increases your fuel economy by 25% and “cleans” the electrical system of your car.

Of course, this is a fraud, but a small part of me wonders if it isn’t better for this segment of the population to put their discretionary income into Fuel Doctors and Fuel Sharks and Neosocket Fuel Economizers instead of using it to prop up their racist and anti-gay organizations. The morons that walk around us with human faces and people shoes are driven by greed and fear, and I’m willing to bet that they’re more greedy for extra money than they are scared of blacks or mexicans or gays or book-readers or them little pocket-computerys yous is always lookin at.



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Apparently, flushing 20 golf balls is the crowning achievement of the American Standard 2889.216.020 toilet. It can also flush five large hotdogs simultaneously, but the golf balls are more impressive to me. Any crapper can handle a few lil’ tubes of meat, but if I shit 20 golf balls one day I’ll know where to do it. And I’ll ask around to see what I was doing the night before.

19 years of misconjugation

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The “Got Milk?” advertising campaign began in 1993, which, if you are reading this, may have been before you were born. Parody comics and television sketches began shortly thereafter, burning themselves out somewhere in the mid-90s.

I wasn’t sure what chiptunes had to do with milk, but then I saw that this company offers a line of nearly 1,800 varied license-plate holders, all corresponding with the “Got ____?” theme of the “Got Chiptune?” item. Someone right now may be buying a “Got Hungarian Hip Hop?” license plate holder. Or “Got Castrato?” Because, you know, dudes with no balls who sing high are a huge target market.



Astronaut ice cream

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When we were kids, astronaut ice cream was a let down. But these days, it’s a lot more realistic. You can stay here on planet Earth, knowing you’ll never get to go in a rocketship, just like a real astronaut. Munch that chewy shit with your feet on the ground and the bitter spirit of defeat in your heart, and with your eyes closed, you’d swear you were at NASA headquarters.







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