The Cave

Unless you're hiding from the authorities or have been on an extended binge of Tylenol PMs, coke, and double Parrot Bay and Big K Cola, then you've probably noticed that massive, limestone edifice being constructed on top of the hill. That would be the Oread Inn. In the basement of the Oread is a four level night club appropriately dubbed The Cave.

So, last Friday, I went to check it out.

It did not disappoint.

The drink prices were agreeable. The lights were flashing. And the women were down for whatever. The dance floor was a clothing mandatory gang bang. I must have died and went to dry hump heaven. I was in such a state of euphoria that I decided to take my ex-girlfriend home. It was all going so well until one of her friends tossed a $3 vodka tonic in my face. Luckily, I was already sweating so much no one could really tell.

The only drawback is the entrance. I haven't waited in a line in a parking garage since I heard about a whore who worked out of her '92 Taurus.

Check it out especially on Stop Day.

Goddard Out.

Topeka Roadrunners

On Friday night, a couple of my friends and I decided we’d get a little drunk and venture over to Topeka to watch the Topeka Roadrunners, a minor league hockey team. We proceed to car-bar from Lawrence to Topeka. Our plan is to smuggle in pints of whiskey strategically hidden in front of our junk.

We arrive in the middle of the first period. I’m worried that we won’t get seats. I then remember we’re in Topeka. The arena seats about 10,000. There are 500 people in the stands. We sit three rows from the ice and continue boozing on some dirty whiskey Pepsis.

One of my friends, who was exceptionally wasted, begins berating the referees named Moran and McIntyre. I’m so drunk I can barely insult the girl sitting in front of us wearing an ICP (insane clown posse) jacket. It’s a good thing because she looks capable of delivering a jaw shattering blow with those turkey legs.

As we exit, my obviously drunk friend is receiving high fives from everyone.

Topeka Roadrunners Hockey: Where the Ice is White and So Is the Trash.

Happy States

Gallup-Healthways Well-Being Index released its rankings of the happiest states. The top two were Utah and Hawaii. Now, I can understand Hawaii. Beautiful weather all the time. Drinks with little umbrellas in them. Coconut bras. Sure, it should be contending for the top spot.

But, what the fuck is Utah doing at number 1? What could possibly be the source of happiness in a state populated by people who believe in a fake religion? Utah has two things: Mormons and rocks. Mormons can’t do anything that alters their perspective: no alcohol, drugs, nothing. Nothing makes me happier than drinking beers for fun and taking Ambien when I can’t sleep. Polygamy, however, is a fine enough reason to be happy. Having a million kids running around with nothing to sedate them with, probably not.

If Utah and Hawaii are the happiest, who’s miserable? The bottom four are Ohio, Mississippi, Kentucky, and West Virginia, respectively. Ohio has Cleveland where fun and prosperity have both been dead for years, and nobody bothered to plan a funeral. The bailout check for Cleveland has been lost in the mail for a while. Mississippi has a low literacy rate and probably no one will read about this poll. Kentucky has backwoods rivers where tourists can get raped. West Virginia has coal mines and inbreds. West Virginia was so weird it got asked to become its own state by Virginia. Kinda like when your buddy gets asked to leave a party because he’s talking like Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs asking girls, “Would you fuck me? I’d fuck me.” I guess I would have to take living around Mormons and rocks if it came between being raped and not being able to read.

Goddard Out.

Did you hear about this?

Over the weekend in Harlem, New York, a Columbia architecture professor, Lionel McIntyre, clocked a woman, Camille Davis in the face at a bar. McIntyre who is black got into it with Davis, a white woman, during an argument about race. A bar back said the punch was so loud that the kitchen staff could hear it over the Luther Vandross playing in the bar. McIntyre was charged with assault, and Davis showed up to school with sunglasses on to conceal the bruise.

So, what can be gleaned from this? Well, for starters, the obvious: don’t go into a predominantly black area and talk race with a black person. Yeah, it sucks that this woman got smoked in the mug, but come on; you don’t go into a gay bar telling everyone you were in Blockbuster for an hour looking for Philadelphia in the comedy section. She didn’t have it coming, but it could have been avoided.

The only time a black man should hit a white woman is in the deleted scenes of Rocky when Apollo Creed pimp-slaps Adrian for taking the last line of blow at the after-party.

Goddard Out.

Yeah, this isn't a Halloween costume.

More Cliched Quotes Girls Use That Happen to Suck

The idiocy continues. I'm really almost at a loss for words. Oh wait, no. It's stupid quotes like these that feed our misconceptions about life. Just like before, I'll list the quote, explain why it's beyond moronic, and suggest a remedy. Get out your protective goggles. This may be painful.

1. You have four years to be irresponsible here. Relax. Work is for people with jobs. You'll never remember class time, but you'll remember time you wasted hanging out with your friends. So, stay out late. Go out on a Tuesday with your friends when you have a paper due Wednesday. Spend money you don't have. Drink 'til sunrise. The work never ends, but college does... Tom Petty

Holy fucking shit. I should probably listen to a guy who never graduated college but made a shit load of money. The work never ends? You're a fucking rock star. How is that work? The only hard part would be waiting for the 8ball to be delivered. Spend money you don't have? And get your balls chopped off by an overdraft.

Revised quote: Be a fucking reasonable human being. College isn't cheap so don't fuck this up.

2. Shoot for the sky, because even if you fall, you will land on a star.... Anonymous

I think I finally realized why no one likes getting quotes attributed to them and use "anonymous" instead...because most of this shit is beyond dumb. Land on a star? Stars are made up of gas and fire. This quote makes me want to shoot for the buffet and even if I miss I'll land at the soft serve machine.

Revised quote: Do your best. Stay the fuck away from stars or you'll immolate yourself.

3. Once I dropped a tear in the ocean, the day I find it is the day I'll stop loving you... Anonymous

The last time I heard this spoken I was tied up in a basement with live jumper cables on my nipples. This is serial killer, stalker ex-girlfriend shit. I know it's meant to be sentimental, but it's really fucked up. The person, again anonymous that fucking imbecile, is basically implying that he/she will be out in the ocean trying to separate tears from ocean water and human waste. While she's out, why don't we take her credit card to the liquor store.

Revised quote: Once I dropped a black sock in a drawer full of white socks, the day I find it is the day I wash it.

The next two are from Marilyn Monroe. If there are small, impressionable children in the room, put on the Jonas Brothers and crank the volume up.

4. If you can make a girl laugh you can make her do anything!... Marilyn Monroe

Yes, but what if she's laughing at you because you just got turned down by her friend? Or because you have a barber pole tattooed on your penis? I've made plenty of girls laugh and to this day, no anal.

Revised quote: If you can make a girl laugh, that's good. Liquor and yay will get you the rest of the way.

5. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you don't deserve my best...Marilyn Monroe

I hope these weren't part of her wedding vows. Oh, that's right. She was married multiple times. Handle her at her worst? She died of a sleeping pill overdose. Sure, she had a rocking bod, but if this lady is going to be getting all fucked up on pills and screw a bunch of dudes, then yeah, I don't deserve her.

Revised quote: I make mistakes, like using too many pills. At times, I'm hard to handle, like when I've taken too many pills or am fucking the President. But if you can't handle me at my worst, like when I'm vomitting at a bar, really at the bar, then you don't deserve me at my best which is sober, shaven, and totally down to screw.

Well, thanks for the memories, I guess.

What have we learned? Stay in school. Stay away from stars. Stay away from women who search the sea for tears. Stay on top of your game with girls who laugh at you. Stay sober if you're partying with Monroe and you notice all the Valium is gone.

Goddard out.

Time Traveling 101

Have you ever drank so much you forgot certain parts of the evening? Have you ever drank so much you forgot how you made it home? Have you ever drank so much that you don't remember anything and wake up in a state of shock wondering if you murdered someone or really fucked the girl laying next to you? If you answered yes to any of those questions, you have time traveled.

I know what you're thinking: what's time traveling? Isn't that impossible? Don't we need a flux capacitor?

It is possible, and I'll explain the flux capacitor later. Time traveling is what most people refer to as blacking out. The term "blacking out", however, has become too cliched and politically incorrect. Time traveling is when you have a lapse in memory due to heavy drinking, just like blacking out. Example: 9:30 you take a shot. Next memory, it is 10:45. You have effectively time traveled.

The flux capacitor is simply the will to drink until you time travel. The DeLorean is the shot you take prior to the time travel beginning.

The following is a transcript from a recent time traveling event:

8:01. We start pre-drinking. I just recharged the flux capacitor and start off with whiskey.

10:14. We arrive at the bar. A friend and I polished off a bottle of Seagrams before we left, so I'm feeling quite drunk. Better warm up the DeLorean. Shot: Red Headed Slut.

11:02. I regain consciousness. I'm in the bathroom standing in front of a urinal. My pants are around my ankles while I drunkenly try to piss and text at the same time. Shot: Viking War Helmet.

11:37. Conscious again. I'm wearing a birthday girl's tiara. Her boyfriend walks up and starts demanding I give it back. I like the way it sparkles. To diffuse the tension, Shot: Tequila, fuck the lime.

12:48. I awake. I'm in the back seat of a Tahoe with a girl and guy. Two girls sit in the front seat. We're doing lines of coke off of a VHS copy of Bride of Chucky, oh, Director's Cut Edition. Better wash this blow down. Shot: Straight, cheap whiskey.

1:23. Woke up. Laying in my bed with girl who really liked cocaine. She tells me she's done more coke than an Eagles tour. I guess I believe her. Well, all the shots and blow have left me with a case of conscientious objector cock. Sneak off to the bathroom and play blacksmith with the toilet seat. Shot: Two Tylenol PMs.

As you can see, time traveling is no joke, but it sure is fun. Except for the blacksmith part.

Goddard Out... to fill up the DeLorean.

These Headphones Blow

These headphones fucking blow. Yes, they make you look idealistic and hip and trendy. I feel like every girl I see when I'm wearing thinks I write poetry and have a beautiful singing voice. They also fall off your fucking ears like every fucking minute. Consider if you only had one glove on or one shoe. You'd have people mugging you like your sack fell out while you were hanging off the monkey bars. How am I supposed to listen to Crossfade to get pumped up in a public setting when the left headphone keeps falling out.

Fucking moronic. I'll sacrifice style for effectiveness and buy some recording studio phones.

Goddard Out... to buy some huge ass headphones.

When Will Kid Rock Die...

Hold up, relax, just wait a minute.

I love not only the music of Kid Rock but also, the idea of Kid Rock. An American Badass. He's our generation's Theodore Roosevelt only he loves Coors Light. And damnit, so do I.

I merely ask when he's going to die because he needs to have a movie made about him. We all know that movies made about one's self during one's lifetime blow. Example: Triumph of the Will about Hitler and B.T.K. about Dennis Rader, if you're thinking of Bind Torture Kiss the Rick Goddard biopic, it drops in 2011. Kid Rock has to be dead so the movie is totally badass.

For the sake of argument, considering Kid Rock's lifestyle, let's give him ten years before he croaks. So, let's do some casting. Obviously, the elder Kid Rock who reflects on his life will be played by Jake Busey. And through computer editing, Jake Busey will play Kid Rock for most of the movie.

Uncle Kracker will be played by an abnormally obese Zac Efron.

Joe C, remember Joe C the creepy small dude, will be played by Haley Joel Osment who will undergo addiction to crystal meth for the role.

Miley Cyrus will play Pamela Anderson. Trust me, in the next ten years, she'll have a boob job. Right now, she makes me want to party in the USA, but after a breast enhancement, she'll make me want to party into a handful of kleenex.

It sounds to me that this movie will kick some ass. The only bad part will be the childhood scenes in Detroit. Who knows, in ten years Detroit could be gone. Replaced by a Six Flags. We can only hope.

Now for a title... American Badass. No, too predictable. Trucking to the Top. I don't know. Cocaine and Coors: The Gospel According to Kid Rock. Bingo.

The sex scene between Kid Rock (Busey) and Pamela Anderson (Cyrus plus 2 cup sizes) will be the Sistine Chapel for boners.

Goddard Out.

I Saw Some Hypocrisy at the Library

I was studying at the library on Tuesday evening when I looked over and saw this. It was in bumpersticker form on a laptop belonging to a true student of liberalism and an avid fan of not exercise. Before I could formulate an insult to this scrot-goblin (for those who do not combine words, scrot-goblin: scrotum goblin), I noticed he had a second bumpersticker. You know the ones that say, "Welcome to Las Vegas". It made me think.

It made me think that this guy is a hypocrite. He had both "Denounce Torture" and "Welcome to Las Vegas" bumpersticks on his laptop. Who the fuck are you kidding? When you go to Vegas all you do is torture people. You drink. You torture your liver. When you're too drunk to stand, you torture your friends holding you up. When you lose money at the craps table, you torture your bank account. When you piss your bed, you torture housekeeping who has to wash your yellow sheets. When you say to the stripper, "Come to Papa", she thinks back to how her Papa used to rest his sack in her eyesockets, and you torture the stripper. When you check out and complain to the person at the front desk about how you shouldn't be charged for the vomit stains in the elevator, you torture that person. Even the city's slogan, "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas", might as well mean when you torture people in Vegas you only do it in Vegas.

So, think again you Ethan Suplee stunt double. Torture and Las Vegas are the same damn thing.

I never did deliver that insult. Talk about denouncing torture.

Goddard Out.

Who To Root For, Part 1

I'm going to call it like I see it already and say that this year's college football season is shaping up to be pretty badass. Considering the prevalence of new networks showing more and more games than ever before, you'll probably start seeing teams you really don't care about but still feel obligated to root for one or the other. When you have no stake in a team, you have to look past what goes on the field and look to what other factors make the team better or worse.

Let's start with the Michigan-Ohio State Rivalry known as The Game. It's been going on since 1897, and Michigan currently leads it 57-42-6, obviously not a landslide for either team. They've combined for 18 national titles and 10 Heisman winners. They've been coached by legends like Woody Hayes and Bo Schembechler. Neither team can be considered a slouch in any regard.

But, who cares? If it doesn't matter what goes on during the game, then what does? Mascots do. The Michigan Wolverines and the Ohio State Buckeyes. Wolverines are the only animals that kill for fun other than Dennis Rader rabbits. Buckeyes are trees. Even though trees kicked ass in Two Towers, in all actuality, they blow. Point to Michigan.

What else? The cities they're located have a great deal of influence. Ohio State is in the state capital Columbus. The name could be derived from two people. It's either Christopher Columbus, the Italian explorer who came to the Americas, enslaved the natives, and spread smallpox like I'm doing herpes now. Or, it could be Chris Columbus, the movie director who wrote The Goonies and directed Home Alone and Mrs. Doubtfire. Ann Arbor, where Michigan is located, is named after the two founders of the city's wives who were both named Ann. Obviously, these guys had been fighting a lot with their wives and in order to smooth things over, they named the city after their wives.

Weak sauce. I'll take genocide and Macaulay Culkin instead of hanging out in Whipped-by-your-wife-ville. Point to Ohio State.

What about other cities in their state. Ohio has Cleveland, Cincinatti, Toledo, and Akron. Michigan has Detroit, Flint, and Lansing. While Cleveland does suck, Detroit fucking blows. If it weren't for people speaking English, you'd probably think you were in Eastern Europe. And, Flint is home to Michael Moore. Point to Ohio State.

So, there you have it. Ohio State is superior because it's named after a guy who enslaved Indians and made us fear the Fratellis. And it doesn't have Michael Moore or the most depressing cities in the Western world. Go Buckeyes.

Goddard Out.

Cliched Quotes Girls Use That Suck

You've seen them on the pages of shot books, printed on plaques hung on walls, and in Facebook profiles from all over the country. Girls think they're "cute" and "meaningful" and "worth my attention". Well, actually, they are fucking retarded. I, of course, am referring to quotations girls hold their principles to. In this post, I'll list the quote, break it down, and revise it to fit the reality of life.

1. "A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous." Coco Chanel

De-fucking-batable. If all women were classy and fabulous, we'd be without women janitors, lunchladies, meter maids, prostitutes, strippers, crackwhores, methwhores, practice girls, fat chicks, girls who put out on the first drink, softball players, and fraternity house mothers. The world would be thrown into such a state of disarray that it would obviously explode.

Here's what the quote should say: "A girl should be two things: realistic and tolerant."

2. "Never frown because you never know when someone is falling in love with your smile." Anonymous

Holy Ice Cream Paint Job! This is plain stupid. First off, no one, I mean no one, falls in love with someone's smile. Guys just bullshit girls about their smile to eventually get into their pants. That's science. Of course, after that first nut, men feel gushy and yes, maybe fall in love with a girl's smile. Never frown? So that means you're always smiling. Which almost always means you are like the Joker. Which means you will most likely carve my face up too. Fuck that shit. I'd rather wake up to a mediocre morning blowjob from a girl with enormous braces and no awareness of her teeth than wake up with a smile carved on my face from a girl who likes this quote.

Revision: "Find a balance between smiling and frowning. Never frown during sex."

3. "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away." Anonymous, made famous by the movie Hitch.

Life is measured by time. No one says, "He was 9,873 breaths old when he was mauled to death by a back of badger-human hybrids." No. They say years, months, days, hours.

Revision: "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments we spend in line at the ATM and on the shitter."

4. "You know when you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams." Anonymous

Is reality better than your dreams? In my dreams, I'm fighting cyborgs with an army of flying lions armed with shotguns and lightsabers. We storm the castles of the evil Slipyso and plunder his treasure room and beer cave. Afterwards, we feast on steak, Chipotle, and Keystone Light. It is a great victory. But in reality, I love a woman. If there were a way to combine both the woman and the battle of flying lions with lightsabers, yeah, fucking lightsabers, with a beer cave, then count me in.

Revision: "You know when you're in love or on cocaine when you can't fall asleep because you'd rather be with that person or you physically can't fall asleep."

5. "Once in his life, every man is entitled to fall madly in love with a gorgeous redhead." -Lucille Ball

Haha. I'll believe it when I fuck it.

Revision: "Once in his life, every man is entitled to sexually degrade a semi-attractive redhead."

Goddard Out.

Motivation of Truth

Truer Motivation

More True Motivation

True Motivation

Dalton's gone to the big Roadhouse in the sky. RIP

Hey, that's not lipstick...

Subliminal Messages

There’s only one way to approach this topic: very bluntly. Every song played by The Eagles is about drugs, more directly, cocaine. I know what you’re thinking, “Goddard must be more blown than Lindsey Lohan. Well, that remains to be seen. Here’s the track listing from their greatest hits compilation, The Very Best of the Eagles:

1. One of These Nights - 4:53
2. Take It Easy - 3:32
3. Hotel California - 6:31
4. New Kid in Town - 5:04
5. Heartache Tonight - 4:27
6. Tequila Sunrise - 2:55
7. Desperado - 3:35
8. Best of My Love - 4:36
9. Lyin' Eyes - 6:24
10. Take It to the Limit - 4:49
11. I Can't Tell You Why - 4:56
12. Peaceful Easy Feeling - 4:21
13. James Dean - 3:40
14. Doolin-Dalton - 3:30
15. Witchy Woman - 4:15
16. The Long Run - 3:42
17. Life in the Fast Lane - 4:47

Just take a look at some of these titles. Their original names may shock you. Blowtel California. Take It Easy that’s my half of the 8ball. New Dealer in Town. Noseache Tonight. Desperablow. Best of my Drugs. Take it to the Limit but don’t overdose. I Can’t Tell You Why Markief Would Short Us on this Kilo. Coked out queasy feeling. James Dean did coke even though it wasn’t mainstream. Doing Coke twice in an hour will last you in the Long Run. Life in the Fast Lane is self-explanatory.

Now, let’s examine some lyrics from Hotel California.

“On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair…”

Desert? What does the desert have to do with cocaine? Well, ask yourself this: aren’t sand and coke the same consistency and texture? You’re damn right they are. And, they both line up on mirror with a credit card.

“So I called up the captain. Please bring me my wine. He said we haven’t had that spirit here since 1969… Wake you up in the middle of the night just to hear them say…”

Captain? Captain Who? Captain Cokebeard, that’s who. Haven’t had that spirit since 1969? What spirit is this? The Ghost of Christmas Present, you know, the big fucker who can fly. And here’s a good indication of coke use. Waking someone up in the middle of the night. I’ve been woken up before to try some new powder.

How about the song, Desperado?

“You been out riding fences for so long now…”

Riding fences? Sounds like they’re riding rails on the Blocaine Northern Express.

“Now it seems to me some fine things have been laid upon your table…”

Yeah, like a tasty 8ball of premo blow. Table? More like mirror. Or urinal. Or breast of prostitute.

Take it Easy is obviously about a drug runner. It takes place in Winslow, Arizona which back in the 1970s was referred to as Winsnow for the incredible amount of cocaine.

“Well, I’m running down the road, trying to loosen my load, I’ve got seven women on my mind. Four that wanna own me. Two that want to stone me. One says she’s a friend of mine…”

Okay, check out the original lyrics.

“Well, I’m running down the road, trying to get rid of this coke, I’ve got seven women on my coked out mind. Four that fucking owe me. Two who got stoned with me. One says she knows a guy with yay…”

Go ahead. Listen to some Eagles songs and pay attention to the subtle references to cocaine.

Goddard Out... of blow.

"I can't believe you told that stripper you'd get her face on the dime."

"I can't believe you gave her that black eye."

Let's level for a minute...

It doesn't take a fucking social scientist to realize that my blog has been read less times than the Pope's copy of the Kama Sutra. Start telling anyone who agrees with this kind of humor about the existence of this blog. I checked the number of visitors the other day. My site has been hit less times than a water bong at a Mormon summer camp.

Help me out, or I'll be doing lines of Prozac off a urinal tonight. Well, let's be honest, I'm doing that anyways.

Goddard Out.

Holy Fucking Shit

Holy fucking shit, Chad Ocho Cinco, aka Chad Johnson aka retarded name change, is coming out with an Ocho Cinco condom line. He says they'll catch any thing a Johnson can throw. Holy fucking shit, I'm buying four thousand. I'll buy five thousand if you can customize them with catchphrases and graphics. Nothing says safe sex like a big "Ay Carumba" going up and down my shaft or a picture of me giving me a thumbs up.

Even though wearing a condom blows, I'll definitely start wearing them. Maybe I'll start wearing them during the day. No I won't.

Condoms haven't been this cool since Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes wore one on her, well, left eye. But no one has done it since. This is one of those dare to be great situations for you, Khloe Kardashian.

Goddard Out.

Taylor Swift's Secret to Success

No one can ignore that Taylor Swift has achieved amazing success and popularity with her blend of country and pop. Not so fast says this cynical bastard. This kind of success just has to be manufactured. After extensive research, I "swiftly" (yeah, I already told myself to fuck off for that one) figured out her formula.

1 part hopeless romantic girl/ just a friend girl
1 part dream guy/ dream guy who's just a friend/ dream guy who ignores her calls (secretly because he didn't pull out)
1 part adversity (another girl, hard to find, fight authority, disapproving parents)

EQUALS

A TAYLOR SWIFT ALBUM

There it is. That's how you sell a fuck ton of records. Hey, wait a minute. This recipe for popularity seems familiar. Oh, I know. It's the plot of every 80s movie about high school. Let's see...

Hopeless romantic and dream guy, sounds like "Sixteen Candles". Dream guy who's just a friend and he has a girlfriend, probably "Some Kind of Wonderful". Hopeless romantic and a dude who won't answer his phone, "Adventures in Babysitting". Hmmmm, disapproving parents and a girl who's just a friend, definitely "Lost Boys". Dream guy who won't answer her calls and fighting authority, yep, "Rain Man".

Nice try, Taylor Swift. Molly Ringwald better be seeing some royalties for all this mopey country-pop bullshit.

Since I've cracked the code expect her next album to follow the exact plot of either 80s horror movies or a concept album for "Waterworld".

Maybe Kevin Rudolf can make a guest appearance. Or maybe he can tee bag a car battery.

Goddard Out.

Looking for a theme song for a douchebag?

In case you were wondering what time it is, it's about ten past fuck off o'clock for Kevin Rudolf. If you don't know who Kevin Rudolf is, other than a singing pubic hair with two first names, he's the Hitler of the music genre known as tool rock. Oh, and he sings "Let It Rock" which might as well have the sheet music written on a flat bill hat. Other well-known contributors to tool rock are Nickelback(some would say the founders), Seether, etc...

So, if Kevin Rudolf is tool rock's Hitler, then the legions of douchebags clad in white sunglasses, flat bills, Ed Hardy shirts, and jeans with more tears than my stepsister's snatch must be the storm troopers. The opening bars of "Let It Rock" are the first movements of the mating game of a tool. I can almost smell the long island iced tea.

Rudolf has been able to ignite a target audience of Aeropostale shoppers into song, dance, and muscle flexing. The last person to achieve success in this area was Uncle Kracker.

It's my theory that tool rock becomes prevalent when many people have a feeling of hopelessness. Nickelback became really popular after 9/11. Kevin Rudolf is tapping the same vein after another losing season for both the Kansas City Chiefs and the Cincinatti Bengals. Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader? was cancelled. It seemed that life was raining shit all over faux-hawks everywhere.

I normally don't advocate mass suicide, but if Kevin Rudolf goes on tour with Seether with an opening act of Larry the Cable Guy and a surprise guest appearance by Carlos Mencia, let's meet on top of the Hancock Building in our swimsuits, and we'll all swan dive to a better place together.

I will not let it rock.

Goddard Out.

Sign of Awesomeness

A couple days ago, Glenn Beck, a notable conservative commentator, exploded on a caller who accused him of not caring about bail-outs and healthcare reform which is incorrect, he's been a big critic of both. Even though Glenn Beck's kind of a tool, it's pretty hilarious.

The clothes make the man-Part 5

Part Five: “What are you looking at dicknose” shirt

This shirt was popularized by the character Stiles from the epic film, Teen Wolf.

Who should wear it: people who identify with the trait awesome.

What the guys think it says about them: God, I hope some chick thinks I’m Stiles, and I get laid.

What women think: Hey, is that Stiles?

What the shirt really says: The world is divided into two types of people: those who like Teen Wolf and those who love Teen Wolf.

Recommendations: If you like this one, you were disappointed with Teen Wolf Too.

The clothes make the man-Part 4

Part Four: Hawaiian or Tommy Bahama shirts

Hawaiian shirts walk a fine line. Tommy Bahama even says that it’s “island inspired”.

Who should wear it: anyone living near or on a tropical coast or location, old men who get dressed by their wives, token fat dudes in 80s comedies.

What the guys think it says about them: Old men think, “Most people should assume I have recently returned from a vacation or that my name is Tommy.” Young men think, “I look like a fucking asshole. I have no other clean shirts but this one. I better get wasted to play it off.”

What women think: Older women think, “My husband/boyfriend looks like he has a timeshare in Cabo. I have such good taste.” Younger women think, “I bet his dad regifted that.”

What the shirt really says: Old men, “Some day, I’ll retire in a tropical location.” Young men, “I feel like I shacked with Jimmy Buffett.”

Recommendations: Old guys can pull it off. Young guys only on location.

The clothes make the man-Part 3

Part Three: Ed Hardy shirts

The Ed Hardy brand was started by Ed Hardy, a tattoo artist, and is now being distributed by Christian Audigier. The shirts are adorned with graphics of skulls, knives, and other “hardcore” shit. They also feature the phrases, “Do or Die” and “Love Kills Slowly”.

Who should wear it: people from LA, people from Miami, people who like to pay a lot of money for a shirt that looks like it was gang banged and bukkaked by a crew of cartoon characters.

What the guys think it says about them: This shirt really represents my “do or die” outlook on life and my view that “Love kills slowly”. It really goes well with my all white sunglasses and jaded attitude.

What women think: Oh my God! Is that Jon Gosselin?

What the shirt really says: I look like a douche, don’t I?

Recommendations: If you really do wear this out, go to a nightclub, not a bar, where everyone is wasted, tripping, or blown or all three. The shirt looks like a piece of toilet paper in Captain Planet’s bathroom.

The clothes make the man-Part 2

Part Two: Affliction shirts

The Affliction brand was popularized by Randy Couture of UFC fame. They have a shit load of graphics like skulls and guns.

Who should wear it: guys who do mixed martial arts fighting.

What the guys think it says about them: If anyone needs to know how hardass I am, they need only look at my shirt. If anyone asks, the skulls on my shirt are for the people I’ve beaten to death.

What women think: That guy must be in UFC. If he isn’t, he’s an incredible tool.

What the shirt really says: I hope this doesn’t distract from my chinstrap.

Recommendations: If you don’t settle business inside a steel cage or octagon, don’t bother wearing one.

The clothes make the man-Part 1

There’s an old expression that says, “The clothes make the man.” To that end, the “What your shirt says,” segment has been initiated. There will be five subdivisions: who should wear it, what the person thinks about wearing it, what women think, what the shirt says about you, and recommendations.

Part One: The Polo

The Polo shirt encompasses all brands.

Who should wear it: people going to a casual get-together, people in college who don’t wear button downs, golfers.

What the guys think it says about them: I spent a shitload of money on this shirt with a little animal on it, therefore some girl should ride me like the pony on this shirt. I’m being very subtle and not sticking out. Except for my boner.

What women think: Wow, that guy is the perfect combination of casual and business. Maybe later, I’ll casually suck his business in the bathroom later.

What the shirt really says: The collar says, “I’ll buy the next round.” The little animal above your nipple says, “But you have to fuck me.”

Recommendations: Do not pop the collar unless you are mocking someone who does OR are around others doing OR carry a stungun.

Fuck Yeah...

The sequel to last year's blockbuster Iron Man is due out in 2010 and Entertainment Weekly has some sweet pictures. Mickey Rourke plays Whiplash and Scarlett Johansson plays Black Widow. According to EW, the story will tell of the beginning of Tony Stark's alcoholism (this could be a whole movie in itself) and he has to battle Whiplash, a Russian inventor, and teams up with War Machine, Marvel's affirmative action answer to Iron Man.

Basically, we have all the ingredients for a kick-ass movie. The bad guy and the hot chick are both Russian. The main character is an alcoholic and gets a hip, new sidekick. It's cinema gold. I have no doubt Jon Favreau will do another awesome job, but if I were directing this movie this is how it'd go...

First, Iron Man would be played by Christian Slater so he wouldn't have to act like he was suffering from substance abuse. War Machine would be played by Lawrence Taylor and would have to use several catch phrases from the 80s and 90s (cowabunga, don't go there, get the picture, etc...) during the course of the film. Carmen Electra would play the Black Widow. Whiplash would have to be played by Jake Busey and would also have a drinking problem.

The movie would have the same plot only a much more depressing ending. Since I don't know the ending, mine will be that Iron Man gets attacked by Whiplash during an AA meeting but luckily for him, War Machine was bumping rails in the bathroom, kills Whiplash and gets Iron Man to a hospital. Unbeknowst to anyone, Whiplash has just ended a six week cycle of sperm donations ensuring at least eight to ten sequels and more money for the franchise and more roles for Jake Busey.

Either way, this movie will kick ass because of Mickey Rourke's addition. Before he signed on, Rourke's contract had to procure at least ten instances where he called another actor "brother" and gave out at least twelve fist bumps.

Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck? Who gives a fuck?

Sign of Awesomeness

Stephen King's IT is currently in development to be remade. Nothing says awesome movie like an imaginary clown that murders children. And it's rated R.

What a Coincidence...

After I hit a huge bong, I feel like a Subway sandwich... and another hit.

One Reason Why Harry Potter Blows

Ever since the first book was published, the Harry Potter series has come underfire from multiple groups and viewpoints. Some call it witchcraft. Some say it has political or religious implications. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but I think the real message being conveyed by the series is truly evil.

That message: it's okay to be friends with gingers. For all I care, Harry Potter could be conjuring up Hitler and Marquis de Sade and I'd be fine with it. Now, he's best friends with a red headed oaf and will eventually marry that ginger's sister creating an entire brood of Godforsaken, genetically mutated British critters.

Scientists have determined that the traits of red heads (freckles, pale skin, time release sperm, uncontrolled pubic hair, constant internal bleeding) will not exist in the next few decades. Potter and Granger are completely ruining this possibility by having ginger babies.

Maybe there's a spell that changes hair color, skin color, and constant internal bleeding. Maybe go fuck yourself.

Goddard Out.

I'll tell you what didn't kill him... that awesome beard.

Why Terminator Salvation Blew

1. Bale was fighting the wrong enemy.

Christian Bale thrives at fighting: demented clown characters (Joker), pussy psychologist criminals (Scarecrow), and yuppie douchebags (Paul Allen, Luis Carruthers, random prostitutes). Not Robots. Why? Because robots don't understand how fucked they are when they face Bale. The incapacitating fear that someone experiences when Bale puts on Huey Lewis or the Batsuit is incomprehensible to a shitty robot. And Bale certainly couldn't fuck roboprostitutes to Sussidio. At least not comfortably.

2. McG directed this pile of garbage.

McG's resume is Charlie's Angels 1 and 2 and numerous music videos. Why were those successful? Hot chicks and concise content. Salvation had a semi-hot pregnant chick (contradiction I know) and a computer version of Helena Bonham Carter. You be the judge.

3. Kyle Reese was reduced to a kid who let puberty punch him in the nuts.

In the original, Kyle Reese was such a badass that John Connor let him go back in time to fuck his mom to have him. I wouldn't want this version of Kyle Reese go back in time to pick my mom up from work. My recommendation: cast Jake Busey. Busey would use his superior strength and acting capability to own Skynet. The only reason they didn't cast Busey was because he'd prevent any sequels.

4. What the fuck is Common doing? And where did he get those glasses out of nowhere?

Goddard Out

The best place to hide a penis... other than inside a co-ed

Too bad she looks like a grown up Village of the Damned girl.

It was 2-4-1 Bloody Marys at the Amtrak Bar

Cusack in Iran

Movie Reviews-Pt. 2

Before I begin with the review of Raiders, I'll have to preface this with how awesome Indiana Jones as a movie character is. He ranks highly in the pantheon of cinema badasses. John McClane. Han Solo. Pennywise the Clown. Batman. Snake Plissken. Rooster Cogburn. Vader. The list goes on. Anyone whose first name is a state has to be able to back up his badass resume and Indiana Jones does.

The movie was slated for awesomeness. George Lucas and Steven Spielberg both had a hand in the production and direction of the movie. Well, the movie is about Indiana Jones' search for the lost Hebrew Ark of the Covenant before the Nazis can get it. So we already have a sweet storyline involving Nazis and Jewish people. Along the way, Indy has to get a headpiece from a girl, Marion, he basically threw on the scrap heap of life, sexually and emotionally. And his friend Sallah, a Cairo based digger who likes to sing Gilbert and Sullivan operattes, modern day, he'd be singing Rent.

So, after some sweet chase scenes, Indiana and Marion are tied to a stake and have to watch the Nazis open up the Ark. Instead of finding the Ten Commandments, the Nazis get their shit melted, literally, by the power of God through the Ark. Indy and Marion survive because they're not planning on wiping out six million Jews in the next few years. The Ark gets put in storage. Roll credits.

I think the best aspect of the movie is the villain. Not the Nazis but Rene Belloq, the French archealogist and Nazi-sympathizer who helps locate the Ark. He's a bad guy not because he's evil but because he's just a douche. He doesn't do anything too malignant other than aiding the Nazis. He does, however, act like a total tool around Indy, Marion (who he's trying to lay, but French men weren't appealing to women until 1951), and the Nazis. If the Ark wouldn't have killed him, the Nazis would have sent him to Dachau for some experiments on sphincter circumference.

Raiders was followed by three sequels, two of which were sweet, and one had Sean Connery. Yes, Crystal Skull sucked, but let it not overshadow the awesomeness of the previous sequels. Spielberg has hinted that Shia LaBeouf will assume his role as Indy's son in future movies.

Don't fuck this up, Even Stevens.

Goddard Out.

Sign of Awesomeness

Every week, I'll post a Sign of Awesomeness about the world that conforms with my world view.

This week's Sign of Awesomeness:

YouJizz, the porn site, has a Twitter.

Movie Reviews

The following entries will be movie reviews. One will be an older film, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and the other relatively new, Revolutionary Road. Don't get your thongs bunched up about the spoilers. If you do, rent them both or read about them on IMDB before you bust a tear-nut.

Let's start with the new. Revolutionary Road came out in January 2009. Kate Winslet and Leo DiCaprio both star as a couple. It's based on a Richard Yates novel of the same name from 1962 and its set in the late 1950s/early 1960s, you know, when boozing and smoking while pregnant or at work or driving or around kids was cool (now its faux pas). Already, if you've been waiting for it to be made into a movie you're either dead or read the last page and figured it out yourself. If you did see it then I think even we can agree that this movie was grade A, 100%, spot-on, FUCKED UP. If anyone else saw this as a shock, you're not alone. Once I finished watching this depressing flick, I blew two lines of Prozac and popped in a Muppets Greatest Hits to cheer myself up.

Don't misinterpret me. I thought the acting was superb. The plot is where it makes me want to hang myself with a kite string. I'll start with the general outline and fill in with details later. Boy and Girl meet at party. Girl gets pregnant because Boy kept bragging about how good his timing is on pulling out. Dreams are dashed. Work and life stagnate for Boy and Girl who are now two kids deep. Girl wants to move family to Paris. Boy gets promotion at work. Paris plans are fucked. Girl is pregnant again. Marriage stagnates. Girl tries to perform abortion onself, fails. Roll Credits.

So Kate and Leo have a kid, rush a marriage, move into the suburbs, have another kid, Leo goes extramarital with a girl I'd characterize as a "practice girl" (the kind of girl whose body is fine but her face /personality has been stepped on with a golf shoe), Leo gets Kate pregnant and just when they're ready to move to Paris, Leo gets a promotion at work and decides he should stay for more money. This leaves Kate feeling disillusioned about life since he ditched Paris for a higher salary and a gym membership. Kate goes extramarital with her neighbor. Kate, pissed at Leo, performs a late term abortion on herself with some kind of squeezy apparatus and bleeds to death. Leo takes the kids to NYC and dies inside every day he sees a practice girl.

Fucking depressing. It should have been called Bummer Road or Late Term Avenue. I will say this, had the sex been more fulfilling for the stars of this movie (the sex scenes lasted a total of twenty seconds, that's two romps averaging ten seconds each) the movie may have been salvaged. I'd want to fuck a practice girl or my neighbor or perform an abortion if I couldn't get any good sex. Shit, the movie should have been called Minuteman Road.

One more point. Kate Winslet went from calm housewife to batshit insane in a snap. Great acting, yet the reality of such a transformation would scare the fuck out of me. Very, very crazy. Sadly, since the sex scenes were so short, one could never confirm the "crazy in the head, crazy in bed" law.

Check it out but don't end the night on it.

Indiana Jones is next.

Goddard Out.

Part 2

After I crushed the Prairie Fire shot, I took a deep breath in and asked my friends what we were doing. For purposes of anonymity, I'll substitute all my friends names with characters from the cartoon Doug. So Porkchop, Skeeter, and Chalky shrugged. They seemed content with just staying at the bar we were drinking at. "Fuck that," Roger said. Only two minutes ago had he seen his ex-girlfriend. They didn't end it too well. He thought her refusal to try anal was a sign that she wasn't wife material. All her friends were there and every so often, I'd look over and they would start giggling as if Roger's ex was telling all those stories when he couldn't get it up.

Roger sighed, "I haven't been this embarrassed since I had to take a shit at the Hawk and the door was broken." Roger was one of the only people with sufficient self-confidence and exceptional leg strength to be able to hoverdump at a bar. Skeeter spoke up, "Who's driving?" Chalky motioned and we left.

The next bar was more attuned to our age group. Roger was pretty upset about seeing his ex and went directly to the bar and started taking shots alone. Skeeter and Chalky found a place to sit, and Porkchop and I approached the bar. I started laughing as we got to the bar. I saw a girl that Porkchop had, well, porked over the summer. I guess you could say he degraded her. He didn't have the common decency to change the sheets he'd pissed the night previous. It also didn't help that he told us the next morning that her bush looked like Fidel Castro's face. Once Porkchop saw his old flame, and yeah her hair was red, he was in the same boat as Roger.

Part 3 on the way.

Goddard out.

Superheroes

With all these new superhero movies like Watchmen and X-Men Origins Wolverine, I decided to do a tribute to a lesser known superhero. I've never heard of him and you probably haven't either. His name is Extrano. He's of Hispanic origin and guess what, he's gay. He's an openly gay DC Comics superhero. Other than that, I don't think there's anything remarkable about him. Just look at him. He looks like Zorro busted a nut on Liberace's dry cleaning. His super powers consist of making great strawberry daiquiris and excellent grooming. Nothing against gay people but I really don't see why this character is there. And the worst has yet to come. In an issue, he's facing a villain who's HIV positive and everyone's worried about him being infected but oh wait, he already has it. So for all of you who are waiting for an Extrano movie with Benecio del Toro, you'd be better off waiting for Plan B pills in different flavors.

Goddard out.

Goddard Salutes...

Goddard salutes the group of gifted Asian computer programmers who decided to create Nintendo 64. All you repressed ass clowns who grew up with Sega Dreamcast or worse, Sega Saturn, during this renaissance of gaming are left in the dust. Nintendo 64 revitalized the stagnant Nintendo franchise. It also brought graphic violence and old characters to the forefront of adolescence. Games like Goldeneye, Super Mario Kart, Super Smash Brothers, and Perfect Dark whose graphics and superb storylines still give me boners changed the way people played video games. I'd sell a coked out hedgehog up the river for one hour of Mario Tennis. So the next time you're either extremely baked, extremely drunk, or both, and you're playing a stimulating game of Zelda, remember those mathematically gifted Asian guys who blessed the world with Nintendo 64.

Goddard out.

First Post

Hello Fellow Collegians and Friends,

I, Rick Goddard, am now beginning to blog. I always promised myself I wouldn't become one of those "up their own asses, shit-eating, skidmark blowing bloggers". I won't try to discuss things I have no bearing on, so I'll stick to things I know: college life. And if you're in college then you must have seen the loss dealt to the Jayhawks. As disturbed as I was about the loss, I was more disturbed about the guy I saw in the bathroom of the place I was watching the game at. Although he had the appearance of a badass, handlebar mustache, trucker hat, and flowing locks rivaling Bret Michaels, he was definitely a massive tool. His shirt looked like someone had farted a temporary tattoo on it. His eyes were masked by white sunglasses. The white matched the blow on his upper lip.

When I walked in and saw him, my knee-jerk reaction was to shout, "Creature!" He looked like he was a reject from Jim Henson's Muppet Workshop. Fortunately, I avoided contact and escaped the bathroom as he blew the rails of the Booger Sugar Express.

I returned to the table where a Prairie Fire shot was waiting for me like a drunk stepdad to kick my ass before mom got home. Tabasco and Tequila are two of those things that should never meet like a present girlfriend and your ex or eye contact with the other dude in a threesome. The Prairie Fire was the trigger for what would ensue for the rest of the night.

Part 2 on the way.

Goddard Out.