Putting a Label on the Apocalypse (Part II)

You kinda have to read Part I first, if you haven’t already.

ghostadventures
Zak Bagans and the boys, ready to beat the SHIT outta Casper.

If you have ever seen ghost hunting shows such as “Ghost Adventures” (or “Ghost Douchebags” as my brother-in-law likes to call it), the chiseled toolbags occasionally capture an EVP (Electronic Voice Phenomenon) in which, seemingly out of nowhere, a choppy mess of static is picked up on a voice recorder.
Being masters of spirit-world linguistics, they then translate the static into very convenient words of ghosts.

The EVPs are pretty cool, but are they really the voices of ghosts?

At first, it really does just sound like a jumble of static.

But then the D-bags put some words on the screen.  They play the recording again.  And again.  And again.  With the words in quotations.

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Putting a Label on the Apocalypse (Part I)

apocalypse note

Today’s post is very video-centric, but bear with me and try to watch them all.

That being said, watch these videos first.  There are a plethora of similar ones floating around online, and they are very crazy.  They all pretty much document the same phenomenon, so at the very least watch the first one to get an idea of what I am talking about:

 

Now, before you continue, I want you to take a moment to analyze your thoughts.  Just briefly go back and recount what you were thinking while you watched it.

Was it scary?  Did it make you nervous?

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A Single Guy’s Cynical Valentine’s Day Poem

[I]
Among other things,
Condom sales reach their peak
Around Valentine’s Day.
…so have fun with that. 🙁
[II]
Have fun?  Great!  Because
March is the highest grossing month
For at-home pregnancy tests.
So have fun with that 🙂
[III]
Oh, and on Valentine’s Day, 1929,
Penicillin was introduced
To cure you of your syphilis.
Try to have fun with that! <3

-Youngman Brown

 

You Are What You Tweet

out of gas

The other night, I pulled up to a gas station, rolled down my window, turned off my car, and popped open my gas tank.

Nobody came to help me.

I leaned out the window and looked behind me to see a kid doing something on his cell phone with his back to me.  He was within the warm confines of that little booth where the gas-pumpers sit when there are no cars to be fueled.

Notice that I said, when there are NO cars.

I had driven directly by him, so he undoubtedly knew that I was there.

I scowled at him through my side mirror.  What the hell, kid?  Do your fucking job!

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