An Announcement To People Who Put Mustaches On Things: Fuck you

An Announcement To People Who Put Mustaches On Things: Fuck you

I would like to think of myself to be, generally, of a level-headed disposition. In most situations where the majority of people would lose their cool, I tend to be the lone voice of reason in a sea of blood-thirty rage. Nevertheless, I have to admit that there are a few things, a few situations, which do nothing but send my ire through the roof. Possibly the highest on this list would be that of motherfucking assholes putting mustaches on things.

An Open Letter to the Jerk Who Owns VOID.com

An Open Letter to the Jerk Who Owns VOID.com

Dear David Biagini, current owner of VOID.com,

First off, we hate you. Let’s not mince words. You’re sitting on a prime piece of internet real estate, VOID.com, and you are doing NOTHING COOL with it. Nothing. We here at VOID (I’m going to call us VOID PRIME for now, since we live on earth 1, which is awesome. You’re EARTH 2 VOID, which sucks. Earth 2 sucks. Earth 2 is like stuck in the early 1990’s forever. Which is awful.

"Hella" - The Linguistic Disease of the Bay Area

"Hella" - The Linguistic Disease of the Bay Area

The following is an excerpt from the pages of  Professor Emil Hancock, whose studies into regional linguistics have taken him all over the world for the past three decades. He was especially interested in local slang - a study that has been dear to him ever since his 1979 study into the English word “crikey,” which won him a professorship at Oxford University.

The Perfect Storm - or - How Storm From The X-Men Ruined All Women

The Perfect Storm - or - How Storm From The X-Men Ruined All Women

As a flowering young lad growing up with comic books, I was exposed to many beautiful, buxom women in skin-tight clothing. It was like growing up in a gym in Miami, just....nerdier. From Wonder Woman to Susan Storm, I was constantly reading stories with these lovely ladies flaunting their...powers...all over every panel. It wouldn’t have messed me up, because I’m pretty immune to overt sexuality unless it’s actively trying to seduce me (sometimes even then), except for the one exception - Ororo Munroe - the X-Men member known as Storm

Skippable San Francisco: The Mission Street Preacher

Skippable San Francisco: The Mission Street Preacher

San Francisco is known for many things: The Golden Gate Bridge, clam chowder in bowls of sourdough bread, overpriced street trollies, inexpensive crack. These are all things out-of-towners can read about in any travel guide – or quickly find out about, depending upon where their hotels are located. We locals know of a different side of San Francisco – a side we don't show visitors because it's only amusing to people who deal with these things daily. Take, for example, the Mission Street Preachers.

The City, Through Open Eyes

The City, Through Open Eyes

Walking down the streets of this great city, one is bound to stroll by the occasional tourist trap or monument to consumerism- it is inevitable. Entire districts dedicated to the rise and fall of stocks, bonds, and the almighty dollar. Communities built out of our necessity for caffeine and non-filtered reds and greens, the demand for grilled meats and exotic tiki drinks. We look onward in awe over the vast hills and valleys scatter bombed with convenient stores and liquor marts. 

Why Caleb Finch is Unattractive

Why Caleb Finch is Unattractive

Caleb Finch is deemed, by some, to be one of the most attractive men of our time. I find this concept to be abhorrent. First off, he is not a man (nor attractive) so the prior statement is pretty much just rubbish in a can (and btw Caleb, writing that on the wall of every port-o-potty you enter from here to another part of San Francisco doesn’t make it true).

My Exploration Of Quantum Making Out

My Exploration Of Quantum Making Out

As I continue to explore my various dating options, I find myself being balked at all ends for various reasons. Some girls are dating someone else. Others may find me unattractive. Others still, simply don’t want to make out with some drunk guy at a party (a position that I find deeply confusing). This is doubly problematic when you consider the fact that I generally don’t know if the above reasons exist, having - every time - simply failed to make an attempt in the first place. Whatever the reason, the subsequent party (or dinner, or bat mitzvah) ends, and I have nobody with to split the cab fare.

An Open Letter to the Bartender Who Called Me Col. Sanders

An Open Letter to the Bartender Who Called Me Col. Sanders

Hey, man. How’s it going? First off, nice bar! I didn’t think there were bars like this in the area. Great use of lighting. A lot of places get that all wrong, and you’d think that would be the first thing to do, am I right? Second, nice Manhattan. You make a mean cocktail, fearsome perhaps, and I don’t want to take that away from you. That being said, I have one small piece of criticism to make towards you. Colonel Sanders? Really? Colonel fucking sanders?

Notice to the public: Leggings and Tights are not pants

Notice to the public: Leggings and Tights are not pants

In troubled times, such as we live in today, one tries not to blow situations out of proportion with long winded hyperbole, and merely state facts and trends without untoward biased or subjective content.  I, Caleb Finch (reporter), hope to quickly gain your trust as a writer of journalistic morality and balance.  That being said, wearing leggings or tights instead of pants is the worst thing in the world, ever.