Techie News: Liar, Liar, iPhone on Fire

Apple's 3G iPhone commercial ad has been banned from television. No - not for being too sexy - although that was apparently also a complaint. Exactly 17 viewers found the new ad to be misleading. The 30 second advert (as the Brits apparently refer to them) displays that the newest iPhone "helps you get the news, really fast", and "download pretty much anything, really fast."

Vague language, indeed, but the viewers (and The Advertising Standards Authority who backed them) said that those who witness the t.v. spot could be bamboozled into thinking the device was actually as speedy as it appears in the vid.

Not a tolerable situation, apparently, and so the commercial was removed. Good to know that 17 bitchy T.V. viewers can make an impact in this big, corporate world of ours. This is the largest problem in these peoples' lives? They must be extremely convincing - maybe they could, say, join forces in order to stop world hunger... maybe that might make their list of priorities.

If you're interested in viewing said outlawed material, you can find the content in the upcoming release of "Banned! Too Hot for T.V.! #17". DVD only $15.99; but you can probably just download it onto your iPhone, really fast... Or can I say that?

iPhone - this month's rebel without a cause!

Drunk at the Movies!: Role Models

Rating:

4 out of 5 Fo'ties.

Who will enjoy it:
Everyone (except those who dislike gratuitious filthy language,
but those fucking people don't fucking matter anyway. Penis.).
Fratties and intellectuals alike can appreciate.

Paying money to watch shitty comedies is not an experience I typically subject myself to at the movie theatre. A flimsy and unfulfilling hour and a half, chop full of three cheap laughs does not a well-spent hard earned $10 make (see: Zack and Miri Make a Porno); but I recently took a chance, and, luckily, it was on Role Models. Mostly, maybe, because the movie features two male actors which I find physically attractive - I'll put my ogling aside, and leave it at that - but also because the trailer made me laugh more in 3 minutes than the whole 101 min of the aforementioned Kevin Smith flick (a mushy, gushy romance with scenes of hardcore porn spliced in - Titanic with tits). The movie (Role Models, that is) is predictable, but despite its predictability, still manages to be satisfying in every aspect.

Watch the trailer; but here's a quick synopsis: two co-workers - one who loves his Red Bull rip-off promoting lifestyle, and one who hates it - break the law (in a very funny battle with a tow-truck driver) and end up having to put in community service time at a youth outreach program (think Big Brother/Big Sister). Neither of them is happy about it. Cue rest of film.

Sean William Scott does his typical frat guy impersonation - lots of sex with random "hotties", a lot of the word 'fuck', and because of it, much foul-mouthed, machismo hilarity ensues. Throw into the mix a little kid who also loves "boobies", cursing, and physically abusing his elders (oh, and argues that every white person is Ben Affleck - especially Paul Rudd. "Wha'ssup, Reindeer Games?") - and you've got a twosome the likes of which haven't been seen since Kindergarten Cop.

Next Paul Rudd, who takes the Paul Rudd route. I was the only pretentious asshole in the theatre to laugh during a Fellini reference, and I peed myself a little when he went off on a Starbucks barista concerning the "tall, grande, venti" language. "Congratulations - you're an idiot in three languages." He's witty, quick, and hates everyone/everything that a bitter depresso should hate - including himself - and you have to love and respect him for it. Now pair him with a Dungeons and Dragons uber-geek who lives solely for live-action role playing (think those kids sporting medieval attire and swords that duel every Sunday in the park) and awesomeness abounds.

As one critic points out, that might just be what makes this movie work so well. The unexpected fusion of two very different schools of comedy that somehow work brilliantly together to deliver every type of quip you might want spouted out at you from a movie screen. Why hasn't anybody attempted this sooner?.. Mindless, irrelevant, dirty and offensive jokes your thing? Grouchy, intellectual puns and asshole observational humor more your style? Well, now you can laugh at both, and feel less guilty about the other in the process. The two previously feuding genres inter-mix perfectly here; not only calling a mere truce, but stepping forward hand-in-hand to display a sweet lesson of friendship that runs deeper than outward differences.
And also, plenty of the word "fuck" - and everyone likes fuck.

And even though you already know what's coming, the ending is the ultimate cherry on top of the pie on top of the whipped cream on top of the chocolate syrup which makes the whole wonderful, giggling mess worth it; and can even have the power to thoroughly brighten up your day.

That's the last thirty minutes of Role Models. A hilarious, and (dare I say it?) touching movie about lost, lonely kids; lost, lonely adults; and the power of imaginary sword-wielding with the best kind of friends - ones that will stand beside you in the Kiss Army in order to defend Middle Earth... to the death.

Verdict: If you haven't already, go see it NOW before it's out of theatres.


But don't take my word for it: Professional critique here.

A Day for the Giving of Thanks

Click to see what I'm most thankful for today.

...

For those of you who do not already know, I currently reside with my father (+ his significant other) and my younger brother. While I'm getting ready to go over to my mother's for Thanksgiving day festivities, my father and brother are watching the newest Rambo movie in the other room.

I'm puttin' me face on, and I overhear this quick commentary to the movie:


Michael, Sr.: "Why would they rape her 50 times? Is that some sort of Burmese tradition?"

Michael, Jr.: "That's how I'd do it."



The end.

Fact: Turkeys LOVE Thanksgiving.

"It's an honour to serve you this day!!"

Happy Turkey Day! From Sarah Palin... and a bunch of pre-slaughter, gobbling turkeys.

Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous

Everyone's got stars in their eyes these days - even legitimate and world-renowned news organizations.

Of course, the hot topic today is the Mumbai, India attacks. You can find extensive audio, video, and written coverage on every major news site right now. CNN still manages to keep things in perspective, however, by discussing the most important aspects of the chaotic tragedy - the celebrity perspective.

Sandwiched right between links for articles discussing "Who is to blame for Mumbai attacks?" and "Witness: Gunfire 'sounded like firecrackers'" is this article: "Ex-wife of pop icon Prince flees from India gunfire" - granting the article slightly less importance than the "Who dun' it?", and more significance than the eyewitness account made by (as they refer to us in Hollywood) your typical 'normie'.

The "ex-wife of Prince" recounts,

"We left everything behind, including purses and phones," said Testolini, the ex-wife of music icon Prince and founder of In A Perfect World children's foundation. "There was a lot of panic."

So much panic that they were unable to tote their humongous Louis Vuitton bags and limited edition Fendi clutches. Who cares, right? We'll just buy another one!!

"Testolini [the woman formerly known as the wife of Prince] said she and 200 others waited in the dark ballroom for several hours..."

Celebrities, even minute ones, only hide out in style. Not in caves and under boxes or furniture like us, but in ballrooms. If you're gonna hide out, do it right.

"Testolini and her colleagues eventually found shelter in an undisclosed location, where they are keeping up with the news on their BlackBerrys, waiting for signs that it's safe to move."

Talk about plug of the century! BlackBerry must have paid at least 2 mill for it. I've got the new commercial all worked out... A frightened Mary Kate and Ashley in head-to-toe couture, hiding out in a stylishly gray ballroom underneath a designer dining chair, constantly and dramatically turning to their BlackBerrys for news that eventually leads to safety. BlackBerry - saves lives. Lives that matter. Like those of famous, good-looking people.

So thank you, CNN, for proving to us that in our celebrity-obsessed culture, even the slightly famous (by way of marriage - a dissolved marriage - and not even to a good celebrity, but one that has been made obscure and obsolete by time) is more important than the not-at-all famous. And also that BlackBerrys provide the path to salvation in any given situation.

Take that, iPhone.

Coming Soon: New Vomit Feature

In the next few weeks you can expect a new interactive feature on Brain Vomit. This will be a (roughly) bi-weekly poll which shall be taken in conjunction with a related article. The new feature will be called "Elimination Bout", and will work as follows:

I will post an article which describes two specific items, instances, and/or persons/groups (celebrity and otherwise) which are undeniably and universally intolerable. Example: Ashton Kutcher in those Koolpix Nikon commercials; or snobby yuppie parents who shamelessly and pretentiously brag about their kids who know three dead languages at the age of 2 and a half; etc. I'm sure you get the jist. E-mail or leave comments on this and other related posts to make suggestions. Winning suggestions will be included in future Elimination Bouts.

Once two contenders are chosen, a poll will be placed on the top right-hand space of this blogsite. There you will have the opportunity to vote between the two, and choose who/what you most desire to send to a permanent resting place, and have removed completely from society and its memory.

Polls will be open for 10 days. Afterward, the results will be unveiled via a video recording of two live actors in representative attire (i.e.: an Ashton lookalike wearing a 'slick' suit and camera Versus a boy in a diaper with a Chinese abacus) fighting to the death. You get to see the elimination bout unfold right before your very eyes... and whoever it is that dies, you know that's who won the Vomit poll.

Each Elimination Bout will also include a unique and unadvertised fighting style, which will only be revealed upon the video's release here on the site.

Some examples to look forward to:


Hope please you, this does. Watch for updates concerning this new, up-and-coming feature!

(Note: If there are not enough participants - a minimum of 7 voters - that week's Elimination Bout will be canceled. So please - spread the word! And utilize your right to vote! Thank you.)

Dear Sugar; Please Die.

Sex-ed you couldn't have learned on your own, whilst playing with your Barbie dolls

While Googling "Madonna sex with animals" I found this little diddy of an article on the "Dear Sugar" portion of the PopSugar website:

I just recently saw that hilarious movie Knocked Up, and I wanted to set something straight. When the guys were talking, one of them said something about how everyone knows that a girl can't get pregnant if she's on top while having sex. According to his belief, gravity makes sure the sperm doesn't get to the egg.

Ladies, listen up... he is completely incorrect. Anytime a man ejaculates inside a woman, the semen goes into her vagina and those sperm use all their might and determination to swim upstream. If even just one of them gets to your egg to fertilize it, boom — you're pregnant regardless of what position you have sex in. Unprotected sex can equal unplanned pregnancy.

Top notch journalism, girlfriend! Oh wait, I shouldn't say that, should I? Since you don't have any comprehension of the meaning behind "comedy", "joke", "sarcasm", "idiocy".

I hope you all learned something today - I know I did. This effectively explains my 47 chil'ren.

Okay, one more childhood sex-ed flashback for nostalgia purposes. This time for the fellas. Hollaaa:

Madonna is Yuckies. That is all.

Madonna Set on Not Giving a Shit Concerning Recent Divorce

According to some unnamed source that People.com utilizes, "It's a sad situation, but she's not heartbroken... She's handling it well." Yes, usually sex with men other than your (ex) husband does translate into "handling it well".

Madonna, of course, can attribute much of her fame and success to her scandalous whoring. Sex videos, sex books, sex with animals, sex with celebrities, sex with celebrity animals (We hear Foghorn Leghorn is a real COCK. Not funny? Yeah, you're probably right - not funny.)... you name it - Madonna's got the t-shirt.

It comes with XL loose-fitting sleeves for her big muscilicious yoga arms to fit into! (May I just add.... most horrifying photo shop I've ever done. Ever.)

People goes on to report,

Also helping her through the tough time is her ex-husband. The singer and [Sean] Penn were spotted having drinks at the Greenwich Hotel in Manhattan on Wednesday night. "They have a nice rapport," says the source. "There's nothing romantic there."

"Nothing romantic" because having sex with Madonna is not romantic. Having sex with Madonna is paid, forced, or disturbing. Just ask that monkey. Di-stur-bing. And anyway, no one wants to have sex with Sean Penn anymore either. No one likes old people sex; no one except fans of the movie The Notebook.

Get over yourself, Nicholas Sparks, you sick, old-person loving bastard.

Eventually, the joke will be on Madonna, however. While Ritchie was wedded to the ancient succubus and sex addict, he reportedly discovered her Mystical Blood Crystal of Aljesuousbursmos hidden deep, deep beneath her granny panty drawer (which is guarded by the giant, fantastical three-headed dog, Fluffy, from Harry Potter - it pays to be rich).

This life-giving relic has kept Madonna active, fit, making out with pop icons, and producing records for the last 100 or so years - and now it belongs to Ritchie. Due to this trade-off (and possibly the only explanation as to why Ritchie did not ask for more of Madonna's $$$ in the divorce settlement), it is prophesied that Madonna shall die in the year 2012 of a massive heart attack (during sex with monkeys... And so it shall pass.), while Guy is now set to make Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Laser Guns; de-virginize Miley Cyrus (who's into old guys anyway. Am I right, or am I right?); and get just as notoriously old person ripped as his gap-toothed predecessor. Let the games begin!!

And John McCain is This Year's Miss Congenialty!

McCain responds, "I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and gaaaay (Which is, of course, evil, immoral, recently illegal (thanks to voters like you!), and an abomination in the eyes of the Lord)."

Trust Mr. McCain to ruin a perfectly good musical number. Did you hear that McCain?! I said you're BOOOORING!

It seems as though President-elect Obama is handing out Runner-Up positions this week. "Thank you for playing, sorry I had to beat you - no hard feelings; how does Secretary of State sound?"

News organizations and politicos have all been abuzz the past week over the P.E.'s potential picks for his national security team, etceteras, etceteras. Allegedly, Hillary Clinton is a shoe-in for Secretary of State (that is, of course, if that nasty rascal Bill doesn't ruin it for her... and his little library fund too...). Other names revealed, as per drawn from a big, George Washington-style hat, for his economic team?

Heading his economic team are expected to be Timothy Geithner as Treasury secretary and Lawrence Summers as head of the National Economic Council. Obama apparently also has settled on New Mexico Gov. Bill Richardson as his commerce secretary.

I love that NPR chooses the words "...apparently also has settled on... Bill Richardson". Insinuating both shock and vague disappointment; but I, for one, am happy about the pick. I loved former presidential candidate Bill Richardson throughout the campaigning, if, for nothing else, simply how incredibly sincere and kind he seems. He reminds me of a puppy. A Latino puppy... and in my eyes, that's all the expertise he needs.

John Edwards, for one, won't be seeing any action this term. Adulterers don't get to play the game! Those is the rules.