I Made These #BoycottStarbucks Memes Because I Like To Watch The World Burn

What's that? Does it look to you like all the hub-bub surrounding the Starbucks "Red Cup Controversy" is finally starting to die down? Did you feel like #ItsJustACup had won the day?Well, I wouldn't be so sure about that just yet...

My sweet, simple child. It's time you learned that for some of us, these bursts of internet outrage are a kind of entertainment. I've tried getting my kicks elsewhere, but no drink, drug, or dame has ever thrilled me quite like starting up a Reddit thread about whether or not a Star Wars film with a "Black Stormtrooper" can count as cannon.

So excuse me while I throw a couple fresh logs onto the dying embers of #BoycottStarbucks and release these quippy, conservative memes I created into the wild of the web. It's not that that I agree with any of part #BoycottStarbucks. Far from it. It's just that I want to warm myself by its flames for a bit longer.

I Come From A Long Line Of Bang Bus Drivers And We've Seen A Lot Of History

I'm Reggie Hanes, and I'm the driver of the Bang Bus. People say to me, "Reggie, you're a sixty five year old Vietnam vet. What are you doing driving a bus where they film people having sex?

See, I come from a long line of Bang Bus drivers. My old man drove the Bang Bus. His old man drove the Bang Bus. Heck, my great great granddad drove the Bang Caravan during the California Gold Rush of 1849. Those prospectors kept shooting their loads on the back of my great great grandaddy's neck. Yup, ever since there's been sex on wheels, there's been a Hanes in the driver's seat.

Us Hanes men have seen a whole lot of history. My dad was there during the Civil Rights Movement, when Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on Bang Bus. Folks didn't like it at the time, but now, the Bang Bus is integrated, and people of all different races eat each others assholes out in harmony.

I was a boy when the Beatles played the Ed Sullivan show. I became a man when they rode the Bang Bus. When they say the walrus was Paul, they're not kidding! Huuuuuuuge penis.

When the Berlin Wall came down, I was honking the Bang Bus's horn in solidarity. The powerful words of President Reagan will forever echo in my mind: “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down that wall and let the Bang Bus on through!” After being starved of the Bang Bus for so long, West Berlin could finally experience its fully glory. And experience it they did – in pile of sweaty, naked bodies, we were all West Berliners.

Everyone remembers where they were on 9/11. Me, I was driving the Bang Bus. Man, when those towers fell, I've never seen the Bang Bus so somber. People were crying, calling up their relatives, jerking off on the American flag. Me, I didn't know what else to do, so I kept on driving. I figured if the Bang Bus wasn't moving, the terrorists had already won.

It's not all sad, though. The night Barrack Obama got elected was a triumph. People were hugging, kissing, lots of kissing, little bit of felching. I was proud. As a country, we'd come so far. The Bang Bus had come so far. Greg had come so far. Seriously, the guy has a twenty foot cumshot – hit me right in the back of the neck. Unreal.

That pretty much brings us to today. You see, the story of the Bang Bus is really the story of America. Sure, every now and then we hit a pothole and we gotta stop to make sure nobody tore nothing, but through good times and bad, the Bang Bus keeps on busing. Well, that sticky blast I just felt means it's about time to wrap it up. Hope to see you on the Bang Bus real soon.

I Apologize For Accusing African American Trick Or Treaters Of Being White People In Highly Detailed Blackface

I really messed up this Halloween. Rather than assuming all of the children trick or treating at my house were African American, I wrongfully accused them all of being white people dressed up in blackface.

The evening began innocently enough. I had poured my candy into my pumpkin-shaped bowl and the Monster Mash was playing on repeat. I put on my favorite devil costume and draped cobwebs all over the front porch. I was all geared up for another Halloween without hurtful racial stereotypes. Then, the doorbell rang an I saw what I thought was a seven year old astronaut made up in full blackface.

Though now it is obvious to me in retrospect he was an African American child and the blackface was his actual black face, at the time, I was entirely convinced and horrified beyond belief. “What is wrong with you?” I said. I dragged him by the ear into my home and lectured him on the painful history of blackface. While I wish I listened to his pleas of “stop doing this!” and “I'm black!” I was blinded by a righteous anger and a desire to be an ally to my dark-skinned brothers and sisters. I should have suspected something was up when my attempts to wash the paint of his face failed miserably. When I tossed the boy out of my house without so much as a fun-sized Hershey, I was proud of myself for standing up against the evils of a minstrel theater that dates back to the early 15th century. If I had known it was just a little black boy, I never would have let him leave without several Almond Joys.

I wish the story ended there, but later that night, I completely lost my cool I saw what I assumed were the most racist Ninja Turtles of all time, but who obviously were just four African-American tweens. I was incensed at what these pizza-loving biogts were doing to the black community. Even the KKK would not be as bold as these young hate mongers. Not only were they all done up in blackface, but their hands were painted in blackface as well. Yes, with the benefit of hindsight I now see that blackface hands are not a real thing. But at the time, I screamed at them for being cowards and threw 3 Musketeers and Krackles at their heads. I was furious this was happening in 2015. I made them all watch the 2014 NAACP Image Awards I had recorded on my DVR as I called all of their parents to come pick them up.

When the parents showed, I was shocked and mortified to find them dressed in full blackface as well. I don't know why I didn't think of them as normal black families. I honestly believed my neighborhood had become overrun with intolerance. It's embarrassing to admit, but I thought their blackface was so realistic and perfectly shaded that the only logical explanation was that Jim Henson productions had funded and created their blackface as part of some sort of campaign to spread prejudice, hate, and fear. “You're the real enemy, Jim Henson!” I screamed until my voice was hoarse. I now see that the looks of confusion on their faces were genuine, and not feigned ignorance to throw me off the scent of an international racist conspiracy. I now understand that I should not have punched them unconscious while singing Beyonce lyrics. I know that no apology can undo their hospital bills, but I sincerely hope that the basket of peanut M and M's I sent to their houses can be the first step in a very illuminating conversation about race. Some people have black on their face, and some have egg on theirs.

These New Candy Bars With Razor Blades Already In Them Take All The Fun Out Halloween

As a violent deviant, Halloween is my favorite time of the year. After all, there's no other season where hordes of children come rushing to your door, ready and willing to put whatever you give them in their mouths. Every October 1st, I rush to my local drug store and stock up on razor blades and fun size Snickers, M and M's, and Kit Kats. As the leaves turn to a crisp red and yellow, I put the Monster Mash on my turntable and sing along with delight as I carefully unwrap each piece of candy and slide a razor blade inside, resealing it so no one's the wiser. Sure, it eats up all my weekends and weeknights, but it's my passion project, no different than making a ship in a bottle, fly fishing, or building a shrine in my bedroom to my co-worker Kathy. It's a lot of work, but ultimately, when I read news stories of children choking to death after swallowing their own blood, a very rewarding hobby.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered they make candy bars with razor blades already inside of them. They were being advertised in the latest issue of Debauchery magazine. While the editors were gushing over their convenience and efficiency, I was mourning the end of an era.

I'm not normally the guy to badmouth technology. I own a iPhone 6 Plus, for God's sake. The photos I can take of children at the park are crystal clear, and I can share them with a worldwide network of perverts at the push of a button. But these candy bars with razor blades are making me fold my arms and yearn for a simpler time. I know I must sound like one of those audiophiles who only buy music on vinyl because the cracks and pops are more “pure.” But there's something about putting my own razor blades in candy that makes hurting innocent children feel like a gentleman's game. If anyone can do it, what's the point?

My fellow creeps and criminals have been going on and on about how these new candy bars with razor blades in them are a game-changer for spreading fear, pain, and misery on Halloween. They say the amount of hours saved from not having to delicately slip a razor blade between milk chocolate and a thin layer of nougat will give us more time to oil the rusty chains in our basement dungeons. But I can't help but feel that the enjoyment of slicing kid's tongues is lost. I like combing through real estate listing to find a house to rent in a popular school district. I like reading trade magazines about all the latest in razor blade technology. Did you know that there are razor blades less than a millimeter thick? And that there are razor blades sharp enough to slice through a penny? You don't need to know that anymore. And that makes my stomach churn.

“Overproduced” is a word music fans toss around for albums that are slick, but feel inorganic and hollow. That's exactly how I'd describe these candy bars with per-inserted razor blades. I'm proud to be the SST Records of creeps. When it comes to shredding up a child's insides, I most certainly jam econo.

Weekly Podcast Roundup

There are so many podcasts out there in the universe, and you don't have time to listen to them all. Us podcast ranchers here at Janice have lassoed up some of our favorite podcasts and herded them into our weekly podcast roundup. Giddy up! Cowboy reference!

Cheers For Fears – Tom and Mike are back with another stellar episode of Cheers For Fears. For newbies, in each episode Tom and Mike watch a horror movie with the audio from an episode of Cheers dubbed in. This week was Halloween II with the audio from the first season episode “The Boys in the Bar.” Tom and Mike are in top form this week, noticing every time the video and audio sync up in unexpected ways. And when the audio doesn't work, Tom and Mike get into a hysterical debate about horror movie cliches vs sitcom cliches. It's a can't-miss.

Just A Couple of Friends Hanging Out and Busting Chops – of all the podcasts that have a bunch of friends hanging out, Just A Couple of Friends Hanging Out and Busting Chops is our favorite. The hanging out this week is fantastic, and the chops get busted real hard. Tom gets on Mike's case for eating on mike again, which will have long-time listeners laughing in agreement. Mike reminds Tom that his girlfriend is stupid, a deft callback to an earlier episode that will have long time fans nodding in agreement. The best parts of JACFHOBC are the little moments where the friends bust each others' chops and hang out, and this episode is full of them.

The Science of Movies with Neil deGrasse Tyson's Interviews – Tom and Mike pull excerpts of old interviews with Neil deGrasse Tyson to learn the science behind some of Hollywood's greatest movies. This week, the gang learn about Ghostbusters. How would proton packs work? How would someone actually custom build the Ecto 1? Is there a scientific explanation for ghosts? As always, the answers are less fun than hearing Tom and Mike quote lines from the movie at each other. They ain't afraid of no ghosts, and you shouldn't be afraid to download this podcast!

Real Crime Oversimplified – fans didn't think this season of Real Crime Oversimplified could top last seasons, but did they ever. In the second episode of the season, hosts Tom and Mike dig up a three hundred year old murder case from 18th century London. While the majority of the episode has Tom and Mike looking up phone numbers of the victim's descendants, the episode ramps up toward the end when Tom and Mike find a great deal on a plane ticket to London off Kayak. Tom and Mike are no crime experts, but that's OK – the show has always been less about understanding the crime and more about hanging out and busting each others' chops.

Tell Us About Times You Farted – Some say hosts Tom and Mike couldn't sustain a podcast about farts, but nine thousand seven hundred and eighty four episodes in and they're still going strong. This week, in a meta moment, Tom talks about the time he farted during the recording of episode nine thousand seven hundred and five. And oh brother does Mike busts his chops over it.