Given that I haven’t posted anything since last Halloween, I decided that this anniversary wasn’t really one to celebrate. But I wanted to acknowledge it and maybe use it as a relauching point of sorts for the site. So what I’ve decided to do is dig deep into the archives and showcase some of the posts that didn’t make it for one reason or another.
If you have a device with Android 4.0 or above, you probably have something called “Currents”, where you can subscribe to various sites, kind of like an RSS reader. Well, I have one of those for ColuMn™ and discovered, much to my dismay/amusement, that several “articles” that were never meant to see the light of day were featured on Currents in their incomplete form. Most of the following come from there, but I’ve also thrown in a couple that have just sat in the queue, waiting to either be deleted or finished. The wait is over, my children.
ADRIANNA’S G1 (7/28/11)
For some unknown reason, I used to watch the new 90210 on the CW (okay, it’s not unknown — I’m a sucker for anything that appeals to tween girls). When the show debuted, it was around 2008 and Google had just released their first Android phone, the G1. I had one. So I was surprised to see one of the show’s main characters, the bitchy/hot pop star, Adrianna, using a G1.
This was cool at first, I guess. A hip, young, attractive TV starlet using the same phone I had. Okay. It wasn’t cool. But it was something. But as the show continued on season after season, that something turned into unbelievable. At the time this post was written (7/28/11) she was STILL using the G1! Nobody that rich and hip is going to use a three-year-old phone. With technology, three years is an eternity. I got a new phone way before Adrianna did, and I didn’t even have a job.
Why this post was never, uh, posted: First, aside from the fact that she used the same phone for a little too long, there’s nothing really noteworthy about a character from a show nobody watches using a G1. I could never get an angle on the funny side of this, so it just sat there, forgotten, until a picture popped up on Google Currents.
NIGHTMARE SHACK (2008)
This was back when Sparks was still on the writing staff, doing his “Sparks’ Sandbox” bit. He started a post for our Halloween spectacular that year that just wasn’t very good, so it wasn’t published. Here it is, in it’s entirety:
I call to you from another dimension. The dimension of the dead . . . uh, robot dogs . . . with a warning. October is here which means that Halloween is right around the corner, stalking you, waiting for you to make one wrong move. Much like I did when I chased that robot mouse into traffic. BlackJack Voorhees says that he can reanimate my dead robot body, but that I might not be the same when I come back. I might be . . . sinister.
Why this post was never, uh, posted: You read that crap, right? And no, I don’t know why it’s titled “Nightmare Shack”.
ColuMn™ ELECTION PREDICTIONS (11/4/08)
The concept behind this one was to predict fictional characters as winners in the then-current election. I got one written before I realized it was a stupid idea.
ColuMn has no political bias, but we do have an interest in who wins. Will it be the old white guy or the black guy? The old bore or the sorta hot moron? Is anything, including alien domination, worse than Bush? ColuMn sent ace reporter Sparks to the future. January 20, 2009 to be precise. His assignment: report back who won what.
Sparks here, reporting live from the exact center of the country, or somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Seriously. There’s nothing here. I’m not even sure I can get the internet here. Hopefully you’re reading this.
Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, the winners of Election 2008.
President David Palmer and First Lady Kasidy Yates. I have no idea what Palmer’s positions on any of the issues are. Probably not gun control, anti-torture, or pro-terrorist. I’m just guessing. But, as you’ll recall from the 2008 Presidential Campaign, Yates, stranded in Earth from the mid-24th century, is quick with a phaser, disintegrating opponent Thomas Whitmore in an apparent blackmail attempt gone wrong. Still, they’re both better than Bush.
Why this post was never, uh, posted: Pretty obvious. It was fucking stupid.
TOP 7 BOOKS I READ IN 2012 (12/31/12)
cmsof’s articles tend to be a bit more cerebral than BlackJack’s. BlackJack is all about the comedy. cmsof is all about the journalism (or something like that). I started drafting this back in October last year and I think it would have been a good throwback to the early ColuMn™ posts where I did hilarious stuff like book reviews.
Ranked in the order I read them:
1. Supergods by Grant Morrison
I’ve enjoyed Morrison’s comics work immensely. The Invisibles is one of the best series committed to paper.
2. The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins
3. Reamde by Neal Stephenson
4. Ready Player One by Ernest Cline
5. It’s So Easy (And Other Lies) by Duff McKagan
6. Memory by Donald Westlake
7. John Dies At The End by David Wong
Why this post was never, uh, posted: Just didn’t get around to it. Which, in reality, is probably why most of these things never made it onto the site. I’m lazy.
THE CANNONBALL RUN (7/28/11)
Let’s get this out of the way right off: I love The Cannonball Run. But I also recognize that it’s profoundly stupid. So I thought it would make a great “Watch With ColuMn™” post. So I started writing it. Then I ran some of the jokes by a friend and he hated them. So I scrapped the post. Judge for yourself:
Hey, gang! It’s time for another installment of Watch With ColuMn™. In previous episodes, we’ve watched The Mysterious Monsters and Free To Be You And Me. This time out, it’s something a little less obscure: 1981′s immortal crowd-pleaser, The Cannonball Run.
The Cannonball Run, as you may or may not know, occupies space in a healthy, much-loved genre: the coast-to-coast race movie with a huge all-star cast. Picture It’s A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, if you replaced all the actors with jabbering idiots.
Burt Reynolds movies usually follow a very specific formula: a) they co-star Dom DeLuise, and b) they suck. The best compliment you can pay The Cannonball Run is that it’s not The Cannonball Run 2. The best compliment you can pay The Cannonball Run 2 is cursing whatever God you believe in.
Beepers were invented solely because Burt Reynolds performance in this movie didn’t meet the standards of “phoning it in”. The only analogy for something as stupid as The Cannonball Run is The Cannonball Run. The Cannonball Run is to 1981 movies starring Burt Reynolds as The Cannonball Run is to human misery. That said, it’s still one of the best things Terry Bradshaw has ever been associated with.
Without further ado, let’s begin our race by meeting the colorful cast of imbeciles who we’ll be forced to share the next 95 impossibly long minutes with.
J.J. McClure (Burt Reynolds)
Dom DeLuise (Victor Prinzim/Captain Chaos)
Roger Moore (Seymour Goldfarb, Jr.)
Farrah Fawcett (Pamela Glover)
On the bright side, starring in The Cannonball Run made cancer the second worst thing that happened to her.
Dean Martin (Jamie Blake)
Sammy Davis, Jr. (Morris Fenderbaum)
Jack Elam (Dr. Nikolas Van Helsing)
Adrienne Barbeau (Marcie Thatcher aka Lamourghini Babe #1 -
seriously, that’s how it’s listed on IMDB)
Terry Bradshaw (Terry)
Mel Tillis (Mel)
Both apparently students of the Tony Danza School of Acting.
Jackie Chan (Jackie Chan – Subaru Driver)
Jamie Farr (The Shiek)
00:26: The first of way too many times we’ll hear Burt Reynolds’ signature fake laugh.
They keep threatening to remake The Cannonball Run, and I just wonder why? Does the world really need another celebrity-driven ensemble piece where the various actors smirk their way through a ludicrous feature-length movie that seems more like an excuse to get paid to hang out with other smirking douchebags? I mean, other than the Ocean’s Eleven trilogy, of course.
The fact that there’s a novelization of The Cannonball Run proves that literacy isn’t necessarily a sign of intelligence. On one hand, dogs can’t read. On the other hand, dogs can’t read The Cannonball Run novelization. Edge: dogs.
Why this post was never, uh, posted: I don’t know. I think it’s funny and it’s inclusion here is one of the primary reasons I wanted to do this “Lost Articles” post.
DAMN YOU, CANADA (4/29/10)
Sometimes it takes me a couple of stabs to get a post right. That’s what happened here. A friend sent me the photo from a playground and I thought it was hilarious and wanted to create a post around it. This was my first try:
Okay, Canada. We let you beat us at hockey because, well, it’s all you’ve got. We may be cowboy dicks down here, but we don’t like to see grown men cry. We may have only won the Silver in hockey, but we got the Gold in being awesome. So no sooner do I get back from your country, than I see this alarming sign at the local children’s playground. (note: there are reasons for a middle-aged man to be alone in a children’s park that aren’t technically “illegal”).
What does that mean? There are really only two possibilities, and they’re equally disturbing. The first is that children born and/or living in the United States are developmentally retarded by 6 months at the age of 18 months. I’m not sure if I believe that, but having not been around a child since I was seven years old, I have no idea if that’s an accurate representation or not. No big deal, I guess. By the time we hit five, we’re caught up. I can only assume that accelerated growth continues in all areas for the remainder of the average American’s life. So by the time we’re 50, the poor Canadians are only 45. Damn. Canada wins again.
The other possibility is that the United States government has a vendetta against Canadian children between the ages of 18 months and two years of age. Who knows how many accidents pre-two year old Canadians have had to endure as the government sits in silence, probably from across the street in an unmarked van, gathering intelligence. We know your weakness, Canada. Do you dare us to exploit it? DO YOU?
So, in closing, I think either Canadian children between the ages of 18 months and two years or American children in the same age bracket should launch a class action lawsuit against the US government to right this agregious case of isolationist ageism.
Not bad, I thought, but I can do better. And I did.
Why this post wasn’t, uh, posted: Fairly obvious.
THE BOX OF TACOS (12/2/10)
The plan was to eat a box of Taco Bell tacos (12 in a box) and write about my experience, with (hopefully) hilarious results. This image is as far as I got:
I can’t say I regret not completing this one.
Why this post wasn’t, uh, posted: I wanted to live and I wanted that life to be without shit-filled pants.
Happy 5th Anniversary, ColuMn™! Looking forward the the next post in, say, 2018.
It’s cool that Friday the 13th fans are finding the site. And I see that the great Big Red vs. Big Blue debate rages on. But I’m not sure what’s worse: that someone is searching for “8th grade girls skinny dipping” or that that search leads them to ColuMn™. Pretty sure the former is much worse. Dude. Seriously?
But I am proud to be the Internet’s go-to site for “fat boobs, skinny boobs, boobs who climb on rocks”. Indiscriminate boob lover? ColuMn™ salutes you.
I’ve reviewed a few snack foods during my time at ColuMn™, so I understand how people can grow to like things like ketchup-flavored potato chips and bubblegum soda. But I’ll never understand how anyone with working taste buds can like these five inexplicably popular “treats”.
Let’s start off with a fairly controversial food, because raisins aren’t a complete disaster. I guess I’d rather just have a grape. Or nothing. You can smother them with sugar and toss a couple scoops into a box of bran flakes, pour chocolate on them, or just eat them out of that tiny, sticky box. But no matter how you serve ‘em up, there’s a guaranteed better snack option out there. Raisin Bran? Try Frankenberry. Raisinettes? The next time you’re laying down $10 for a box of candy at the movies, at least make them work for it and demand Frozen Junior Mints.
Mini box of raisins? You’re better off filling your mouth with the barrel of a gun.
2. Wax Lips
This, thankfully, is not a common candy. Pretty sure you can get these at Halloween still, and I do occasionally see wax coke bottle candy at some of the sketchier convenience stores. Wax lips have some value as a comedy prop that gets the wearer instant laughs stemming from the appearance that he/she has humorously over-sized, bright red lips. Genius. But it’s not candy. It’s a fucking candle that somebody forgot to stick a wick into.
This is candy like shoes are candy. There’s more actual foodstuff in feces. If you eat a wax-based snack product, you deserve to suffer through the 30 years it takes for the human body to digest it.*
We can all agree that chocolate is awesome. People who don’t like chocolate are responsible for every single act of aggression throughout history. They’re not like you and me, and definitely should never be trusted. I get that some people hate white chocolate. That just means they’re wrong, probably with alarming frequency. But what sick bastard came up with carob? It looks like chocolate and feels like chocolate, but definitely doesn’t taste or poop out like chocolate.
As with chocolate, carob is a bean, but everything that makes chocolate edible is completely missing from carob. It’s like comparing The Dark Knight Returns to Batman and Robin. Don’t. Even talking about carob or Batman and Robin will make your mouth taste like shit. This “snack” exists solely to make fun of stupid children and make clueless parent look like assholes.
I assume that here is where I lose most people. And I get it. Popcorn can be good. It’s a movie theater staple. But I say it’s a lousy snack and even worse Christmas decoration. The microwave version smells like a bag full of Taco Bell farts that have been fermenting for a year. The movie theater version is so grossly overpriced, it makes my cable bill look like a good value. And is there a worse snack for the film-watching experience? Combine the decibel level of a jet engine with the tooth-chipping prowess of a mouthful of rocks, and you get popcorn.
Is there no better method to basically slurp down a stick of butter (or whatever unpronounceable liquid cancer they inflict on you at movies)? Here’s an idea: skip the popcorn and just bring a stick of butter and a junkie’s used needle.
5. Aplets and Cotlets
Ahhh. After the whole popcorn thing, I won you back with this entry, didn’t I? I’m not entirely sure what an aplet is and have absolutely no idea where they grow cotlets, but I’m pretty sure both words are synonyms for shit. This is the candy that your grandparents always bought in preparation for your visits when you were a kid if a) they hated you, or b) you were adopted).
Looking at their website, I discovered three things. They’ve been disappointed kids (and adults) since 1920. Aplets are “Apple-Walnut” and Cotlets are “Apricot-Walnut” ‘candies’. And they’re manufactured in Cashmere, WA, just however many miles from ColuMn’s™ home base of Seattle (I can’t be expected to know where every city in Washington is, nor can I be expected to bother doing a routine search on Google Maps). But I don’t want to rip into a more-or-less local business, so I’ll let them off with a warning. They can thank my grandma.