AJ makes a Four Horsemen. Drunkeness ensues.

I haven’t been updating much. I’d like to say that I’ve been doing something worthwhile with my time, but I’d be lying (okay, I guess working full-time and doing yardwork is worthwhile, technically, sort of). In reality, what I’ve been doing with most of my free time is getting Shrek’d:

AngryJerk.net supports our Ogrelord. SHREK IS LOVE, SHREK IS LIFE.

Nah, that’s not my only beer glass. In fact, I have an absurdly large collection, so much that I need to get a china cabinet at some point down the line to hold them all. Can you believe most places want $200+ for one of those things? What do we say to that, kids? Fuck that!

Anyway, during my drunken shennanigans, Rotten Tom and myself decided to attempt to recreate the notorious “Four Horsemen of the Apocolypse”, which one of our other friends bought for Tom one night at the bar. Traditionally, a Four Horsemen consists of Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker, Jim Beam, and Jameson. Basically it’s four whiskeys that all begin with the letter J. Señor Juan insisted that Jose Cuervo is in it too, but after reminding him we weren’t piss poor Mexicans he fucked off back to his Corona.

So me and Rotten Tom went to recreate this drink, which is nowhere near as awesome as the Abomination of Desolation but still good. After discovering that my drunk ass forgot to buy the Jim Beam earlier, I decided that of all the things from my massive liquor collection Fireball Whiskey was the best substitute. Then we ran into our next problem: We couldn’t remember how much alcohol to use. So we gave it the ol’ 9/11 and decided to wing it (on a side note, if this isn’t already a widespread saying it needs to be ASAP; Get on it, readers).

And by “wing it”, I mean we put in an entire shot of each liquor. That’s four full shots mixed into one glass to be taken as a single mega-shot.

We mixed our mega-shots. Rotten Tom suggested we draw cigarettes to see who would go first. Since I have this rare condition that’s called “Not being a total fucking pussy ass lightweight”, I simply went first. I pounded down my quadruple shot like it was water.

Then came Rotten Tom’s turn. I watched and I waited, but Rotten Tom did not follow my lead. After a whole ten seconds of waiting, I demanded an explanation for his faggotry. “Oh that’s right, they actually made these in double-shot glasses!” Indeed, he was right. This was meant to be taken as a double-shot, not a quadruple-shot. But seeing as I had already taken my mega-shot, this fat fuck wasn’t going to weasle his way out of doing what I had so ignorantly (but still awesomely) done. Putting on my best Jesse Pinkman voice, I said to Rotten Tom “Take the fucking shot, bitch!” Reluctantly, my fat faggot lightweight friend took his mega-shot. He simpered and cried like a fucking pussy, but he managed to choke it down. Afterwards, he promptly demanded the comfort of a large black tranny dick in his mouth. And his ass.

Ten beers and three shots later, Rotten Tom recorded me making death threats directed at fake amateur porn sites like Fake Taxi, where I drunkenly drew my Kabar knife from its holster and slashed my finger open to a point where it kept bleeding well into the next day. I didn’t get stitches, because stitches are for bitch niggas. Said video was locked away in a CIA vault, coincidentially the same one containing the footage of what actually happened to JFK (SPOILER ALERT: JFK’s assassination was actually an elaborate marketing ploy to sell pillbox hats).

To be honest, I’m pretty fucking drunk right now, so my memory of these events may be a wee bit skewed. But probably not. Moral of the story is a Four Horsemen only adds up to a double-shot and not a quadruple shot.

So to recap this article in case you’re a retard with a short attention span, how a normal person makes a Four Horsemen:

The picture doesn’t accurately portray the size of the glass. This is a double shot glass, or at least what they gave me when I asked for a double shot at the bar I stole it from.

How a drunk fucking idiot (that’s me) makes a Four Horsemen:

Yes that’s a chocolate bunny from Easter. Remember how I said before that I sometimes work on articles sporadically over the course of time? This picture is over a month old. It took a lot of time and a lot of booze to finish this shitty half-assed article.

Checkmate, atheists.

You know you’re a 90’s kid when you won’t shut the fuck up about it

I am a 90’s kid.

I grew up watching “Rugrats”, “Street Sharks”, “All That”, “The Amanda Show”, and “Power Rangers”. I collected pogs, played with Z-Bots, and couldn’t take a side in the Console Wars because I loved both my Sega Genesis and my Super Nintendo. I remember being psyched as shit for the live-action Ninja Turtles movie. I had all my favorite movies on VHS, and had the Space Jam soundtrack on cassette tape. The song my 5th grade class sung for graduation? “I Believe I Can Fly”. The day my crush gave me a gimp she made herself, I nearly pissed myself with delight. I used to fight with my mom all the time about not being allowed to watch “Beavis and Butthead”. My first computer was an old Tandy 2000, and I used to spend most of my time on it playing Colossal Cave Adventure and talking to a chatbot named Eliza. My biggest crushes were the Olsen twins, and I secretly enjoyed “The Adventures of Mary-Kate and Ashley” just because of this. Me and my friends would argue about who was a better running back, Emmitt Smith or Barry Sanders (Emmitt Smith). I also remember sitting on my friend’s step blasting “The Ruff Riders Anthem” at 10 AM, and giggleshitting ourselves to death when the sudden gunshots and “TALK IS CHEAP MOTHERFUCKER” came on.

Yes, I remember all of that shit like it was yesterday. This was my childhood, my past. These are memories I will always keep with me throughout my life (granted all the booze doesn’t kill my brain). Unfortunately, we have a very large and very vocal majority of idiots who don’t want to let the past go, preferring to live forever in their childhood memories like a bunch of Toys R’ Us Kids (I also remember the old jingle from the commercials).

Normally I would just ostracize these people as I do with 95% of the pathetic excuses that pass themselves off as people and go about my life, but this is getting out of hand.

We now have legions of assholes who were born at the tail end of the 90’s claiming to be 90’s kids. The halls of Facebook are rife with stupid Millenials claiming to be 90’s kids, then posting memes (straight off of 9gag and Reddit, the two biggest pillars of faggotry on the internet) of shit like “Hey Arnold” and “Catdog”. Yes, technically “Hey Arnold” and “Catdog” were 90’s cartoons since they came out in the late 90’s. Chances are though, most of you grew up watching these shows in the 2000’s. The 00’s. Hmm, did we ever come up with an actual word for that decade? I don’t fucking know. All I know is, if your definitive cartoons for the 90’s were “Hey Arnold”, “Catdog”, and anything else that came after 1997 then chances are you weren’t actually a 90’s kid, so hop off the bandwagon.

Not that the real 90’s kids are any better. You guys weren’t content with letting the past stay in the past, and you want your skewed vision of a “perfect” past to also be the future. Great job on “Girl Meets World”, fellas. It’s really on par with “Boy Meets World”, which was also a festering pile of shit whose only possible saving grace might have been the chick who played Topanga. I can’t wait to see “Fuller House”. Obviously Bob Saget’s forced shock-comic act wasn’t panning out, and the last relevant thing that Dave Coulier did was “Full House”, but I can’t figure out for the life of me why John Stamos would want anything to do with this shit. Et tu, John? All these years I’ve modelled my appearance after you, my idol. But now, I just, I don’t know anymore man.

Let’s be real here people, the 90’s sucked just about as much ass as the 80’s. There’s a reason most of that shit died out. It’s okay to have fond memories of your childhood. It’s okay to reminisce about your favorite toys and games. It’s even okay to download the old cartoons you used to watch as a kid, then get drunk and baked and watch them. It’s not okay to obsess over them to the point where you’re adorning yourself in t-shirts of your favorite cartoons, flooding my Facebook feed with generic “20 things only 90’s kids will understand!” links from BuzzFeed, and demanding remakes, reboots, and sequels of your favorite 90’s movies and TV shows. Faggots like you are what’s causing our culture to become stagnant. By 2030 we’re going to be caught in a perpetual cycle of being completely reliant on the fads of the previous generation, spewing out the same rehashed garbage over and over.

Maybe it’s time to start over.

Exploit the system, reboot the world.

Toblerone bars are fucking awesome

Behold, the apex of candy:

For you heathen bastards who don’t recognize this work of edible epicness, it’s a Toblerone bar. What the fuck is a Toblerone bar, you ask? It’s everything your pathetic and plebian ass will never be.

Created in the Swiss Alps by a lumberjack (rumored to be Yukon Jack, creator of the eponymous Canadian whiskey), this candy is forged from decimated boulders, ram horns, and the bones of defeated Nazi troops. It also has a hint of chocolate and honey.

Anyone who doesn’t like Toblerone bars is a faggot. Seth MacFarlane has gone on record saying that he doesn’t like Toblerone bars (source). I guess he’d prefer to munch down on a large black cock. Are you as much of a faggot as this douchebag:

Because if you don’t like Toblerone bars, you are on par with a smug liberal douchebag who likes campy 80’s references, musicals, and talking animals. You probably drive a Prius or a Kia too, you fucking spermlord.

Insults aside, here is a comprehesive list of reasons why Toblerone bars are fucking awesome:

1. I said so.

2. Stone Cold said so.

FACTOID: Right after this picture was taken the lights went out and the tolling of bells was heard. When the lights came back on, the Undertaker was standing in front of Stone Cold. Taker glared menacingly at Stone Cold, before drawing his hand across his throat in a slicing motion and uttering “Wrestlemania.” The lights went out again, and when they came back on Taker was gone, along with Stone Cold’s giant Toblerone bar.

3. Honey and chocolate both have a myriad of health benefits. Use Google on this one, it’s actually true.

4. Grace Slick used to eat them.

5. Your mom eats them. Along with my dick.

6. Have you ever even had one before? Seriously, go buy one, they’re fucking delicious.

7. Fuck you.

8. Stop reading this shit and go buy one, asshole.

I hate slowskis

You all know what a Slowski is.

No, I’m not talking about the turtles from that Comcast commercial (Christ bro the spelling is even different and shit). I’m talking about the slow ass motherfuckers that hold up life in general with their snail’s pace lolligagging no-rush bullshit.

Still don’t know what a Slowski is? Alright, I’ll cut you a break, this time.

You know how when you’re hauling ass down the road, doing 60 in an area where the speed limit is 45 MPH, and suddenly you catch up to some asshole who’s doing 40, and adamantly refuses to go any faster because he’s a huge fucking pussy who’s probably more afraid of life in general than Chucky Finster from the Rugrats? And you can’t readily pass him because there’s another slow ass in the next lane going 41 MPH? And in the third lane is a semi truck with one of those stickers that says “Driver obeys all speed limits and stops at all railroad crossings”? Those are Slowskis, a plague that is blighting America.

Slowskis are never in a hurry to get anywhere, ever. They either do the speed limit, or below. Always, no exceptions. Being a Slowski isn’t age, race, or gender exclusive, it’s an equal opportunity thing. From old ladies to guys in their 30’s to teenagers. White, black, hispanic, Asian (ESPECIALLY Asian), anyone is a candidate for being a Slowski.

It’s not even restricted to the road. Slowskis are everywhere, walking our sidewalks, wandering our hallways, browsing our malls, and slowing down life around them anywhere there’s foot traffic.

This one time I was walking down a street, and some fat white trash Slowski was ahead of me, walking slow as fuck and gabbing away on her cellphone (a brand new iPhone which I probably paid for, since I’m one of the few suckers left in this country who actually works for a living and funds the public dole with my tax dollars). Understandable, since she most likely doesn’t have a job. It’s not like she has any reason to hurry for anything other than to beat the lunch rush at McDonalds. Since I’m not a worthless unemployeed piece of shit, I did have something to do and somewhere to be. As the Welfare Whale waddled on, completely oblivious to her surroundings as she continued to prattle away on her iPhone about Big Macs or whatever bullshit Welfare Whales like, I came up from behind her. Judging from her reaction, you’d have thought Freddy fucking Kreuger just crept up on her in an alien mask. She let out an audible gasp, then said to the person on the phone “Oh my fucking god, this guy just came up from behind me walking all fast and shit! That shit’s fucking ignorant!” Excuse me? I’m ignorant because you were too busy talking on your cellphone to pay heed to your surroundings? I’m ignorant because you were walking slow as shit? What the fuck was I supposed to do, announce my presence before I got close? Should I have slowed myself down to your speed so I didn’t frighten or offend you? No bitch, you’re a fucking retarded welfare whale. I made sure to tell her this. She started freaking out, saying some shit about “I’m gonna get ma man up here and he gonna fuck you up!” As if I had time to waste on this bullshit. I kept walking, confident her fat ass couldn’t keep pace with me.

I admit, that was an extreme example. Not all Slowskis are on Welfare Whale’s level of retardation. Here’s a quick rundown of common species of Slowskis one might encounter.

The Weaver

Weavers can be found on both the roads and on foot.

A weaver in a vehicle will typically drive a car length or less ahead of you in the adjacent lane, maintaining a speed that will keep him the same distance ahead of you. The whole time they’ll weave back and forth, coming just to the border of your lane and in some extreme cases even crossing it. So you slow down a little, assuming they’re looking to switch lanes (now’s as good a time as ever to say that if you’re one of the assholes who doesn’t signal when turning or switching lanes I hope you crash into a telephone pole and die). Do they switch lanes? Nope, they continue to do the same thing, playing a game of chicken with your lane’s border. Exercise caution when attempting to pass them, since they’re likely to clip your mirror off with their piss-poor driving.

Walking weavers are more annoying. The common urban sidewalk is anywhere between 3 to 5 feet wide. Somehow these assholes manage to take up an entire sidewalk, weaving side to side almost drunkenly. Their timing is impeccable, as they always seem to weave to your side of the sidewalk just as you attempt to pass them, creating a socially awkward situation where you feel compelled to say “Excuse me” and apologize despite the fact that they were clearly at fault. In extreme cases, they can turn violent and pick a fight with you. Remind them that other people do in fact exist with a right-cross to the jaw. Don’t be afraid to teabag them when they’re down either. It’s not gay to put your nuts in another man’s mouth unless he’s jerking you off while you do it, and even then not really.

“Slow down Ethel!”

“Slow down Ethel!” is a reference to the biggest offender of this one, old people.

SDE’s are the assholes on the road who do the speed limit or less, never any more. I mentioned them in the beginning of this article. The mindset that drives (pun intended) an SDE is a misguided sense of morality. By doing exactly the posted speed limit they feel that they are doing their part to be an upstanding and law-abiding citizen. In today’s fast-paced world of on-demand TV and fiberoptic internet, this is fucking stupid. This isn’t much of a problem on a road with more than one lane, but a well-placed SDE can completely and utterly ruin your day. I got caught behind an SDE once on my way to the liquor store and they caused me to get there 5 minutes too late. Thanks to Ethel and her overly cautious husband doing exactly 25 MPH, I didn’t get my bottle of Captain Morgan that night. I thought everybody knew about and agreed upon the generally accepted rule that cops don’t give a fuck if you go 5-10 MPH over the speed limit as long as you’re not being a dangerous idiot.

It would be unfair to single out old people here, so I’m going to mention that the second-worst offenders are foreigners, usually ones from third world shitholes like China, India, or Russia. Which is ironic if you’ve ever seen a video showing driving conditions in these countries. Since I’m too lazy to go find a video, traffic conditions are usually a clusterfuck, with people doing 100 MPH and driving on the sidewalks and shit. Pokey Pingping/Punjab/Petrov needs to pick up the pace.

Not much you can do about SDEs, except blow past them the first chance you get. Or if you’re an exceptionally big asshole you can cross the double yellow lines to go around them.

Shoppin’ Slowski

The Shoppin’ Slowski is found in any store with shopping carts. You’ll be pushing your cart down the aisle, knowing exactly what you want and where it is. In front of you will be the Shoppin’ Slowski, casually strolling down the aisle taking time to look at every single price tag to make sure they’re not missing out on the sale of the century. As you make to go past them, they’ll stop pushing their cart and blindly cut across in front of you, forcing you to stop as they dawdle past. Because that 50¢ can of vegetables is totally worth getting slammed into with a shopping cart. As with the Weaver, it all boils down to a mindset that they are the only people who exist and there is nobody else in their little world.

Another form of Shoppin’ Slowski can be found conveniently stopping directly in front of the product you want, either abandoning their cart to search for that perfect jug of milk or standing around on their phone texting or updating their Facebook status. Your options are to either say “Excuse me” (be prepared to have to repeat yourself no less than 5 times), or physically move their cart if they’ve left it unattended. Be warned though, Shoppin’ Slowskis can be very territorial to the point where they will sucker punch someone who moves their shopping cart even a fraction of an inch.

“Slow and steady wins the race” is not a mantra to live your entire life by. You want to “take your time and smell the roses”? Great, get the fuck out of my way, because time is money and I’ve got bills to pay and bitches to lay.