ordinary average gentlemen escapes from evil claw via jetcopter, supermodel in tow

The interesting thing is despite what you read in the news I’m going by the assumption that Carlos Ghosn escaped from the evil claw death room with relative ease.

– Oh, his home was under surveillance?  I love Japan, but the Japanese have a reputation for a stoic, detail oriented nature that is often unearned and comically missing: see Fukushima, the incessant problems with the Tokyo Olympic building projects, and Death Stranding.  Ghosn’s home wasn’t likely under anything approaching the level of surveillance he’d have received in Mr Takashima’s subterranean volcano fortress.  Ghosn probably just slipped out the back while the cop was asleep or watching the Giants destroy the Tigers, again.

– He certainly didn’t escape in a music case.  For you see, what he did is his mercenary handlers drove him to an airport in the dark.  Then they went to the civil aviation terminal side and boarded a private jet.  For those who are unaware, civil aviation security and immigration checks are a flat joke compared to what folks go through in the steerage terminal.  Ghosn may or may not have been required to present a passport and undergo a minor security check.  My guess is he did neither, at least in any serious manner, and then they took off.  They didn’t even have to break one guard’s neck, so boring.

– So now our hero is in the air, and on his way to Lebanon via Turkey.  He flies from Osaka to Istanbul.  Turkey is easy, so easy, Ghosn just paid them all off in gold doubloons.  Next.

– And finally to Lebanon where he’s well known to the elite and without an extradition treaty.  Japan can’t touch him there.  Game over.  Takashima screams at his giant video board and slams his claw down atop a mostly full brandy glass, shattering it into numerous pieces.  Kitty squeals.

Hey man, I’d run too.  Japan has a Stazi-like 99% conviction rate for federal charges.  A man got a fairer trial in Nazi Germany.

But hey, isn’t the USA’s federal conviction rate also 99%?  Why how interesting that you ask, because yes, yes it is.  Damn, maybe we all better move to Lebanon while we still can.

ghosn.jpg

Takashima:  “I’ll get you next time Ghosn!  NEXXXT TIME!  [pets kitty]

your car knows when you’ve been bad or good

As we’ve written previously on this degenerate blog, it’s in your interest to read most of what Geoffrey A. Fowler writes. Your smartphone has your DNA on file. Amazon knows what toothpaste you use. Google has a complete list of things you have nightmares about. Now your car is in on the game.

When I renewed my auto insurance policy Allstate tried to get shovey with me and do the driver monitoring program. Supposedly if you drive safely (I don’t) you get a discount on your insurance bill. The discount is probably like $5 a month. In exchange Allstate (and other auto insurance companies doing the same thing) probably go ahead and sell all your personal data for $15 a month. Naturally, I declined.

But all these auto insurance programs run via the app on your smartphone. In the future, it’s the car itself that will spy on you.

Fowler wanted to determine how much data and what kind of data a car was collecting. This (of course) was not an easy task:

But for the thousands you spend to buy a car, the data it produces doesn’t belong to you. My Chevy’s dashboard didn’t say what the car was recording. It wasn’t in the owner’s manual. There was no way to download it. To glimpse my car data, I had to hack my way in.

That’s right folks! The law is so loose and the Giant Octopus is so brazen that the only way Fowler could figure out what personal data was being pulled and sold was to hack the freaking car.

They also hacked another car computer they bought off the Internets:

For a broader view, Mason also extracted the data from a Chevrolet infotainment computer that I bought used on eBay for $375. It contained enough data to reconstruct the Upstate New York travels and relationships of a total stranger. We know he or she frequently called someone listed as “Sweetie,” whose photo we also have. We could see the exact Gulf station where they bought gas, the restaurant where they ate (called Taste China) and the unique identifiers for their Samsung Galaxy Note phones.

Maybe we should all just get it over with and let the Giant Octopus put the monitoring chip in our brains? It’d be quicker in the end.

The only other option is regression. Want a car that doesn’t spy on your without your knowledge? Buy a 1995 Ford. Want a fridge that doesn’t track what tasty food is contained therein? Buy one of those neato 1940’s fridges from the movies.

We’re doomed. We work for the Giant Octopus and most folks don’t even know it, or care.

Enjoy your day!

car.png

a discovery process that is actually easier than attempting to read and understand a privacy policy

we briefly & shamelessly join the hater crowd: Ban Receipts! And Other Wise Ideas

There’s lots of problems in life: the train line broke down this morning, our planet’s attempts to harness fusion power have failed, we can’t use genetic engineering to make elves and dwarves real (and then pit them against each other in cage matches), and so on.

Plastic straws are a problem, according to some. We don’t agree.

But whatever. Hey you want to make the planet better? Ban paper receipts. Just look at this monstrosity the store printed out for me this morning:

receipt.jpeg

Damn thing is longer than a broadsword or [insert human, animal, or alien sexual reference of your choice here]. I only bought two items. The rest of this receipt is just garbage and offers that nobody reads. When you think about the hundreds-of-millions of transactions each day in America, that’s a lot of dead trees.

Receipts can be replaced by e-mails, or at least made available ONLY at the direct request of the purchaser. Or go super green, receipts will only be beamed information into one’s head as an abstract existential reality construct where the customer is constantly like, “Did I really buy that? Hmm. Well, did, did I, … hmm.”

Join our cause! Ban Receipts! Post on all social media. Personally and professionally demonize those who support paper receipts. Insult their intelligence, threaten their children’s lives, get their addresses! Hurry now, before paper receipts burn down the planet!

we present our axe throwing business plan

So the latest urban gentrified hipster recreational activity is axe throwing. And so, um, uh, … what? Essentially people go to what is in any sense a bar/club, only while you get pasted you throw axes at wooden boards. Although it seems not all venues permit alcohol while you throw, I think it depends on the jurisdiction’s laws.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about the use of any kind of weapon and the proficiency that comes with it. Throughout most of human history, the ability to expertly wield (at a minimum) a small dagger was considered necessary to remain alive. Now we’re lucky if people can chop an onion. But I just don’t get why this is a thing?

First off, how is this even legal? In today’s bubble wrapped society this is one that somehow got past the government nanny filters. Is it like those infernal scooters where regulation just doesn’t address it? I suppose there’s no law that says you can’t run an axe club, but if you tried to open a throwing knives club I bet that’d be illegal. Or heavily regulated.

As a weapons example, the axes these clubs use most closely resembles the Francisca; the quintessential battlefield throwing axe first perfected by the Franks and later used to spread mayhem by other such warlike races such as the Vikings. It was essentially an attempt to break the deadlock that was the spear and shield wall warfare of the period. The age of the longbow and armored heavy cavalry came later, but for a few hundred years it was spears, shields, and axes; backed up by limited and essentially ineffective archery.

So if you’re throwing an axe at a club with your mates, this might be cool, but you don’t get the real experience. So we at TAP are here to help. We’ll open our own axe club. Let us know what you think. We always get lots of feedback to the posts on this degenerate blog.

Here are the guidelines:

– Intoxication is mandatory, as it likely was on most medieval battlefields; the customer may choose whatever beverage they desire, but before beginning, a BAC test will verify the customer is above the legal limit to operate a motor vehicle.

– Axe throwing will not be done individually, but in a group via the shield wall. The inexperience of the customer is irrelevant. Armor and shield will be used. Those who refuse or cannot wear armor or lift shield will be ejected from the venue without refund.

– Customers will submit to a short training rehearsal on shield wall tactics so as to experience abject suffering and shocking reality of being one minor cog in a mass of human meat meant for the medieval grinder. Training mistakes will be met with physical correction with a ferocity as determined by venue management and training staff.

– Actual axe throwing is conducted from the shield wall with environmental conditions necessary to fully simulate the medieval battlefield experience. Noise generators will produce human screaming and shouting at decibel levels prohibited for airport runway employees. The building’s heat will be at a level considered medically negligent to induce dehydration. Despite the level of intoxication, no substance fitting the proper definition of food will be offered to the customer. And so on.

– Axes will be thrown by the shield wall at wooden walls simulating an opposing shield wall. Customers will be ranked by the number of axe hits assessed by venue management as solid kills or crippling blows enough to have removed the target from the fight.

– Customers with the lowest scores would normally have become medieval battlefield casualties. To simulate this for the customer, before departing the venue they will receive a single bare-knuckled punch to the face via a former, jaded heavyweight boxer. Physical injury and its associated potential medical costs are the responsibility of the customer.

– Customers with the highest scores will receive free alcohol for the remainder of the evening, a refund of their fee (paid in gold coins), diligent (legal) attention and adoration from venue employees from the gender of the customer’s choice, ample roasted meats for consumption, and several musical templates which they can sing with their fellow high score patrons.

That is all. Please carry on. Enjoy your day!

iu5EIZ50O0.jpg

poison own body, gas fellow humans, earn minimum wage

This weekend democracy protestors in Hong Kong were sighted singing the Star Spangled Banner while asking Trump for help against the Giant Octopus that is the Chinese Communist Party and its turncoat Hong Kong underlings.

I’m not entirely sure this the best move.  I even wonder if the Commies inserted these people as a fifth column to make the protestors look like foreign agents instead of shopkeepers and airport baggage handlers who don’t relish the idea of being black bagged to Beijing on a dark night’s moment’s notice.

But if these folks are legitimate, they might do well to look at Afghanistan, or Syria, or Iraq, and wonder if America might perhaps not make the best of allies to ask for help at this current moment in world history.

In any event, our plucky freedom lovers were promptly tear gassed for their trouble.  Guess what, the gas canisters are Made in America.  Here’s a shot of an expended canister lying on the Hong Kong streets.

sub-buzz-462-1567712872-1

Here’s the BuzzFeed article on the background of dirt poor folks struggling to make a living on minimum wage in rural Pennsylvania as they poison their own bodies so the stuff they make can poison others in various foreign lands.  If you’re a dictator, nothing says quality in the misery tools you employ like Made in America!  Just ask your Yemini neighbor.

Gee, thank God BuzzFeed is on the case, otherwise nobody would know.  I guess the New York Times and Washington Post are too busy looking at Twitter and admiring themselves in the mirror.  We gotta rely on BuzzFeed for help here, geez.  Gee wiz.

I think this tale is quite the perfect encapsulation with just about everything that’s wrong in America right now.  Of course, at the end of the article it says Congress is on the case.  There’s gonna get it fixed!  [cue laugh track]

teargas_3.jpg

Cheers!  From our country, to yours.

we demolish Stella Artois’ (aka InBev) pathetic advertising lies

Once upon a time it was said that celebrities who wanted to make money shilling product were required to go to Japan to do it. It was considered poor taste and reflective that the actor’s career was in the tank if they tried it in America. This is the entire plot point of Lost in Translation (which remains among my favorite movies) where a washed up Bill Murray heads out there to hock Nippon whiskey.

Well, those days are long, long over. Soon it’ll be no big deal to see a celebrity promoting a vacuum cleaner. I don’t really care either way, I hate most celebrities anyways and so couldn’t care less how they earn their coin. But it’s directly applicable to the point of this post which is to assault the lies of Stella Artois.

jeff_bridges_big_lebowski_carrie_bradshaw_stella_artois_super_bowl_commercial_0.jpg

During this last Super Bowl the viewer got to see Carrie Bradshaw and The Dude drinking Stella. The idea that The Dude drinks anything other than white russian is bullshit, but I digress. Now they’ve dragged out Idris Elba to push the beer. A guy who would have made a great 007, but turned it down, is now reduced to pushing this cheap beer. What a loser. Doesn’t he already have enough boats?

20190715191224-StellaArtois

The general idea of the ad campaign is that Stella is fancy, a sophisticated way to poison your body by ingesting a toxin known as alcohol. The most emphatic scenes in these commercials are the ones where they show dressed up rich people swilling Stella at the original 1926 Christmas party. And there’s multiple shots where Stella poured from the tap foams over and requires the use of a foam knife.

I laughed out loud at the foam knife part. For those who don’t know, in the old days draft beer typically came in barrels. Before the age of refrigeration these barrels basically sat at room temperature. With warm beer, when the carbon dioxide was exposed you got a ton of foam into the mug. So barkeeps needed the foam knife to get rid of all this extra foam. To the modern drinker, this warm beer would have tasted skunked or funky due to the poor overall carbonation of the end product.

Only later when keeping beer cool became widespread did this practice disappear because it was no longer required. It’s why you don’t see bartenders using foam knives today, unless they’re tapping a firkin. So while it looks fancy (in theory) what Stella is basically saying in these commercials is that they prefer Stella warm at room temperature, at poor quality, and skunked out. You can even reinforce this trend by buying the Stella foam knife on Amazon (I’m not joking) so that you too can dispense warm, poor quality beer to your guests.

41CJ+4EwORL

Stella is a mainstay European beer and has been for decades. Only recently has the goal changed to sell it widely in America. In 2008, Stella got wrapped up in the creation of the AB InBev behemoth creation which probably now sells half the beer on the planet. Sometime later somebody at InBev was probably like, hey we can sell Stella to dumb Americans and pass it off as real swanky Euro beer.

Now I’m one who truly believes there is no actual bad beer. I’ll drink just about anything. But there are certainly beers that aren’t good, and Stella’s one of them. It’s basically just Europe’s Bud or Miller. There’s nothing special about it. Except the advertising campaign that says so. That and the stupid (and entirely unnecessary) tulip glass that they always show it in.

So is this scam working on the American people? No shocker here: Yes! From 2010-2015, Stella sales more than doubled in America. Today Stella remains one of the country’s fastest growing beers. It’s why you see it and those stupid tulip glasses in almost every bar now. And you better believe they’re not charging you Bud or Miller prices for Stella. Nope! You’re paying extra for that ultra-fancy Euro beer, fools.

The Giant Octopus is very wise and aggressive. I wonder how many Americans know that Stella is owned by InBev, or what InBev even is? Or that in Europe Stella is basically Bud? Hell, I doubt most Americans even know that Bud is foreign owned. But basically it worked, Stella’s blatant advertising lies have made a ton of gold for them. So, sadly, I guess the conclusion of this post is once again that we’re all doomed.

In general, society’s just not smart enough (or doesn’t care enough) and is happy to be manipulated and lead around on a leash by the Giant Octopus, straight to the bar, to hand over its cash without coherent thought. Doomed! [sigh]

the tyranny of public music

Lots of things are everywhere: oxygen, people, squirrels, cable hate news, oppressive heat, ghosts, and so on. But public music has (for whatever reason inside my twisted brain) been my problem lately.

The easiest example of this is the lightweight, feel good, soft rock or pop rock they play in the grocery store. My contempt for this knows no bounds. I have to bring my own music; I can’t stand to listen to it otherwise.

They just opened this dynamite Yucatan place within walking distance of my apartment. They’re a small chain but are awesome. I walk by them this morning towards the train station and they now have a speaker that blasts music outside their front door, it’s playing soft rock.

If there’s anything I can’t stand more than music I can’t stand, it’s music broadcasted to the public in a manner that assumes the least amount of risk possible. I’m sure a team of corporate suits got together and developed, “Safe Corporate Playlist for Modern Demographic Populace – Version #498b”. This is available to your local chain store for $14.99 a month per store. The suits made billions last year and then blew it all on their third boat and coke.

We here at TAP are here to help. Our wisdom knows no bounds. Our ideas will be adopted everywhere. Please spread the word. Your cooperation, as always, is truly appreciated. We truly, do truly, desire to keep liquidation to an absolute minimum. Here is what we want played in public from now on:

1) generic, faceless, pointless soft rock

2) unhinged death metal to include constant screaming and nonsensical electric guitar riffs lasting seven minutes

3) genuine classical music

4) medieval monk chants with accompanying children’s choir

5) full blown profanity laced gangster rap that makes elderly women exclaim “Oh Dear!” inside the store

6) Michael Jackson, sandwiched before and after with voiceovers regarding the exploitation of children

7) spoken word album read by Christopher Walken on the Book of Ruth

8) genuine classic metal back before all those bands sold out

9) violin or flute playing by a talented high school student

10) we’ll throw in some female pop rock or whatever they call that stuff, the one with the famous women

11) country music, or at least the unimaginative kind not written by a team of Nashville boardroom suits

12) audio playback of YOUR coworkers talking in the next cubicle about the most mundane and eye wateringly foolish things

13) chants from a reborn ancient Aztec death cult which will make even the most hated of modern political views seem tame by comparison

14) classic Sinatra; as in the ones he recorded while completely wasted, with a dame waiting in the next room

15) no Christmas music, ever

16) Vladislav’s greatest hits of 1976, including his famed electrical metal album, “Tashkent or Bust”

17) please, help me

18) no really, please help me

19) I don’t know why I did this

20) 20! 20 line items; blogs are magical