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Top 10 Reasons My Faster-Than-Light Car Rules:
10) Stephen Hawking always wants to carpool.
9) Breaking the laws of physics is only a misdemeanor in most states.
8) Traffic enforcement is pretty much limited to cops with Ph.D.'s in Quantum Physics.
7) Bugs - they never see you comin'.
6) I can get to the good hookers before Charlie Sheen.
5) I made a fortune selling pizza with the slogan "It's there before you order or it's free!"
4) I sleep until noon and still get to work by 8:00am!
3) I'm never in the car long enough to hear an entire Madonna song.
2) My cigar butts don't land in the back seat, they land in last week!
... and the number one cool thing about my faster-than-light car is ...
1) I get a license plate that reads "ME = MC^2"
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:: Richard Swift - As I Go
:: Snowglobe - Rainbow
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Making The World Safe For Science - One Supermodel At A Time




Paris Hilton Is Like Mother Teresa - Only Naked



This is twice in a week that I don't even need to make a joke for my posts to be funny. Be shocked and amazed at an odd casting idea here. And thank you to David Hasselhoff and Paris Hilton for making my job so easy.

Director T. Rajeevnath said he was impressed when he read a report in which the hotel heiress said she had refused to pose nude in Playboy and decided to see about casting her in his biopic. Let me see if I understand this; not posing nude for money made her qualified to play Mother Teresa? What about the 38 million pictures of her naked available for free on the internet? So just for science I Googled 'Paris Hilton nude' again and this time my computer made some kind of horrid, screeching noise and shut off. And then I got a cornea transplant. I tell you, some sacrifices are too great to make just so you can be entertained on my blog.

I'm all for famewhores like Paris Hilton but I am not sure what she is thinking when she turns down Playboy and then gets naked in bars for free. If you're anything like me, or any of 3 billion other men out there, you spend a great deal of time wondering what women are thinking and why it seems to make no sense. They do studies on symptoms, of course, but no real studies on causes. This study, for example, tells us that married South Korean are the least happy with their sex lives. I believe that. I have been to Seoul plenty of times and I can barely sleep at night because all of the married Korean women knocking on my hotel door begging for orgasms. And Cheez-Doodles. But that doesn't explain much about why these women are so unhappy or why most women make no sense. It only tells us something about the size of Korean mens' penises.

Brett Ratner of Rush Hour directing fame, got so upset by an argument with his date he had to be rushed to the hospital. This guy can take the stress of helming a $100 million motion picture but he can't figure out his chick's moods without paramedics on stand-by.

Heck, Simon Cowell is even willing to sleep with Paula Abdul to keep the peace on American Idol.

Men's Health and I come to the rescue. How am I helping? By telling you the four distinct phases in a man/woman relationship so you can react accordingly once you know where you are. For further wisdom, consult A Physicist's Guide To Relationships. Because we all know that love is a matter of chemistry and sex is a matter of physics. And no one ever left a relationship because the sex was good.

The four phases to a successful relationship:

1) She is dazzled by your great physique, good looks and charm.
2) She is overwhelmed by your passion and sense of romance.
3) She takes you for granted because she is insecure and self-destructive so you dump her.
4) She spends the rest of her life trying to get you back.

See? Isn't that simple? You can even carry this in your wallet to show to her when she is unsure which phase she is in.

Oh yeah, and they help too. For their part, they did this handy article on exactly what is going on inside womens' heads. It details what a girl was thinking the first time she met a guy, before their first date, etc. It's invaluable.

But not as invaluable as my blog.

posted by Buckaroo at 7:00 AM |

17 attempts to be as funny as a scientist

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David Hasselhoff Again



What happened to Australia? Weren't they once the country of loose women, plentiful booze and cute little kangaroos that box? What is this sudden fixation with "The Hoff?" Because their credibility has dropped a lot.

And Hoff? What were you thinking when the advertising people said, "We liked your last ad for Pepsi but it just wasn't gay enough" ?

Did you simply reply, "How about if I get on a swing and scream like a pre-school girl? Would that be gay enough?"

Because if you did, they then said, "Yes. Yes it would." And this ad was born.

I haven't giggled this much since The Hoff claimed he was responsible for the fall of the Berlin Wall.

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posted by Buckaroo at 9:11 AM |

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Science Shows You How Not To Get Sex On Valentine's Day



I got hopped up on insurance recently, probably due to the fact that I changed companies about two years ago and recently discovered that, should I die in a horrific flaming car wreck surrounded by large-breasted women with Bonepony's "Stomp Revival" in all 6 slots of my 6-slot CD changer, their insurance policy on me doesn't pay squat.

Why would family members cut the brakes to my car if there's nothing to inherit? I can't expect to be liked on personality alone so 'inheritance' is something I want my kin to be muttering when they think about me.

Insurance policies require blood tests and such and they sent a nice lady over to see me to handle all of that. Sweety asks me how it went.

"I guess it was fine," I say.

"What was your blood pressure?"

"120/80."

"That's normal, right?"

"I am never sure. On charts it shows 120/80 and down is normal but 120-139 is pre-hypertension. Either way, I think I am okay."

"What else do they do?"

"They take a blood sample and a urine sample."

"Did it hurt?"

"The urine sample? No, she held it very gently."

Silence. I know what is happening; she is giving me the look. You know what look I mean. The look that is supposed to tell me it is Valentine's Day. Like I don't know. I am the one who had to go to Target to buy her that $4 box of candy.

"24 hours. That's all I ask." She says. She means 24 hours without a reference to another woman's vagina or sex acts with other women. Especially deviant sex acts involving urine. Even as a joke.

"But if I stop making those jokes today you'd just expect it again tomorrow."

"You are not around that much. I just want to see if you can do it for one day."

Thus I have decided that, in the spirit of romance, I will make the effort. So here you go, people. 24 hours of humor without reference to supermodels, vaginas or cocaine.

Sweety, I hope you are happy. I won't make my $.05 on Google AdSense today because those jokes are the only reason people bother to read my blog.

posted by Buckaroo at 7:06 AM |

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David Hasselhoff Saves My Friday



Some days I worry there won't be enough funny stuff happening for me to get in a quality post and entertain the millions who visit this blog.

I shouldn't worry. All I need to do is Google 'David Hasselhoff' and something good is bound to show up, like him having a hit record in Germany or his own hair. But this Pepsi advertisement for Australia is a huge bonus.

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Now, I am not sure what he is doing here but I bet you all have some ideas. Come on, this is an easy one. You can make fun of the advertisment, him and Australia all in one shot. And Crocodile Dundee. Those jokes are always funny too. But not Linda Kozlowski. She was the only reason to watch that movie.

posted by Buckaroo at 8:19 AM |

44 attempts to be as funny as a scientist

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When Can We Just Call It Sex Day?



If there's one thing I know, it's what God meant when he created the Easter Bunny. Somewhere in there the Easter Bunny became associated with religion and when you add religion to things, you get alcohol-and-sex-fueled holidays. The holiday we are talking about today is the really fun period in Catholicism right before you have to give up stuff until you get Easter eggs 6 weeks later. Let's call the giving up stuff part "Lent" and the fun part before that "Brazil."

Brazil is, technically, a Catholic nation. Like all Catholic nations, this means you should give away 25,000,000 condoms for a religious event though the Church doesn't believe in birth control.

Now, I am all for two things; birth control and inconsistency. Just not at the same time. I always pick one or the other. One time Sweety asked me about this:

SHE: Let me see if I understand this. You won't use birth control, we can't live together before marriage and you never eat meat on Fridays but you'll let me use birth control and we can have buckets of pre-marital sex.

ME: Check. And sodomy, if you're making a list.

SHE: How is that possible again?

ME: Well, I figure you're going to Hell anyway so I might as well let you use birth control. And I can't take Communion because of the pre-marital sex thing. So I suffer too.

You can imagine that logic train never left her station. So back to Brazil. They are going to give away 1 billion free condoms in 2006 as part of their 'acclaimed' anti-AIDS program. Who acclaims it? The government giving away the condoms, of course. The Church is worried that if they give away a lot of condoms, people will have more sex.

Not me. You think they're giving away Durex XXLs? I bet not.

posted by Buckaroo at 8:09 AM |

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Winter In Detroit



Well, you know when you get me, Detroit and brisk winter weather, things are going to happen. Add in Tommy Lee and it had to be a little crazy.

Now, I was there for the football and without question my boys came through at the end. So not only did I predict that the Steelers are the greatest team in the NFL and why, I predicted they would beat the spread. And I would much rather have hung out with Hank Williams, Jr. and Kid Rock, but Tommy Lee turned out to be a pleasant surprise.

I was never a glam rock guy - I was in ROTC so they wouldn't let me grow my hair while that sum'bitch Reagan was in The White House. And Heather Locklear was nowhere near as hot as my chick when Heather Locklear was young much less now, so I think I have Tommy Lee beat all the way around. Unless he's one heck of a scientist. But we stumbled across him at The Flight Club in Detroit and he recognized us because he had been at The Landing Strip too. So he bought us a drink - and since he was paying, I ordered a Macallan 18-year old Scotch, neat with a water back. And drank precisely none of it. But I looked cool holding it. I was tempted to ask about his keen interest in Absinthe and hookers but it was pretty obvious from where we met him that he is a connoisseur of both. Some questions just don't need to be asked.

So if you were face-to-face with Tommy Lee, what would you ask? About that video with Pamela Anderson? No way. I saw three seconds of that video and said, "These two are in love so that is just wrong to watch." Because I like my porn to be amongst professionals. Or involving me. Otherwise, I don't want it at all. Would you ask about the tattoos? I have none and he has a gazillion so that's one topic I can't converse about. Well, I wasn't stumped like you are. I asked him about his canoodling with a transvestite in Toronto.

I says to Tommy, "Tommy, if there's one thing I know it's transvestite strippers. As your attorney I would strongly advise that you take me along - for your own protection - next time."

"Cash, dude," says Tommy, "You could not have known. That Nina dude was one convincing chick." And then he thinks about it for a minute. "How the f*** did you hear about that anyway?"

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Well, what can I do? Go to a PC and show him my blog? I did happen to have my Dell Axim X51 in my pocket and I could have shown him everything he ever wanted to know about Thai transvestite hookers but I just mumbled something about reading The New York Post. "Yeah, I hate that f***ing rag," he says.

Suddenly, the phone rings. It's Sweety. I think I know what this is about. Sweety is not happy about the blog from the bar in Japan. Knowing that, I fail to mention Tommy Lee or the strip club we are in. Oops, no, that is not it. I still leave out the strip club, just in case.

She's angry about vaginas. Specifically, stories involving vaginas that are not hers.

ME: You didn't think my remark about the 'line of women willing to offer me their vaginas is so long it can be viewed from space' was funny? What about vaginas exploding because I am so hot. Is that funny?

SHE: I don't think you and vaginas in the same story is funny, no.

ME: Come on. That's funny stuff.

SHE: It's actually not that funny.

ME: You're repressing me.

SHE: I'm informing you.

ME: What about third person jokes involving vaginas?

SHE: Still not funny.

So I tried to disract her with stories about fat French people and a James Bond Director getting busted in drag during a prostitution sting but she was having none of it. Since that didn't work I offered to buy her a vibrator that plugs into the USB port of a computer. That seemed to settle her down. She's such a sucker for romantic gifts. Tommy Lee offers to serenade her to smooth things over but given his penchant for creating porn stars out of normal women, I don't take him up on it. If she's going to be a porn star, it can only be with me.

posted by Buckaroo at 6:56 AM |

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A Physicists Guide To Relationship Advice



I get a lot of acquaintances and friends that ask me for relationship advice. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because the line of women waiting to offer me their vaginas is so long it can be seen from space. Or maybe it's because I am happy all of the time. If I am happy all of the time, it's because I probably know some things they don't know. The first thing to know in relationships is where you stand and the second thing is not to expect too much from the other person. I can't help you with not expecting too much but I can tell you where you stand. To find that out, science comes to the rescue.

40 million people a year meet via the internet so this probably counts for that medium too, though I am betting the bad percentages are a lot higher. I met someone from the internet once and it went just about as well as it can go but your mileage may vary.

So here are the facts:

* British and Australian men drink too much. And admit it. That means they drink a lot more than they are admitting. So if you date one of them, don't start complaining about it.

* 80% of Brazilian and Mexican men lied about their relationship status. Why would they bother? Brazilian and Mexican women assume they are lying and don't care. Telling the truth might be a goldmine. Kind of like being a straight guy in San Francisco. Sure, women may assume you are gay at first but ...

* 70% of German women lied about their relationship status. Which tells you what you need to know about German men. On the other hand, with 70% of German women you can't tell what gender they are anyway.

* 50% of Italian and German men lied about income to attract the opposite sex. This explains why most German women continue to shop around. It doesn't explain anything at all about Italian men that you didn't already know. Namely, that they are hound dogs. I went to Italy with my chick and had to walk next to her with a hockey stick to get them to stop "Buongiorno"-ing her every five seconds.

* 40% of Portugese men rated intelligence over appearance. Not a single Australian respondent said that. So we know that 40% of Portugese lie and that Australian men are honest about both their drinking and that they only like you for your looks. Which is scary, if you have seen Australian women.

* 63% of men and women in the USA specified humor as the most important factor in their attraction to the opposite sex. Which tells you that this survey is full of crap. 73% of Canadians said the same thing, so at least Americans aren't as full of crap as Canadians.

Finally, I will throw in some personal insight on navigating relationships. Here is a paraphrased transcript from a conversation I had a few weeks ago so you know what not to do:

ME: If I don't go to Detroit, can you help me throw a Super Bowl party even though my team just crushed yours? I'll buy you stuff.
SHE: I want cash.
ME: Sweet. Can I bring it all in ones? I set up a stripper pole in the 3rd car garage.
SHE: Now I want more cash.
ME: Hmmm. That plan backfired.
SHE: But I will let you watch the game. Provided you keep it muted. And I am in Asia on business.
ME: You're trying to make me screw a whore in Windsor, Canada on Super Bowl Sunday, aren't you?

You can bet that list bit of well-intentioned humor came with a price tag. Luckily, Playboy is doing its part to help me find a replacement girl on the internet, if needed. They can help you too. Once you find her, all you have to do is tell her she has a sense of humor - 63% of the time. And teeth like Bugs Bunny. At least that worked for me and Kate Beckinsale.

Download the full Harlequin Romance Report 2006 here.

posted by Buckaroo at 6:10 AM |

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How To Have An Earthquake In Japan - Guaranteed



It's no secret why I come to Japan so often. It's to talk to this guy, who keeps a harem of 10 women living with him in Tokyo. He's like my Yoda, if I were a Star Wars nerd. I wish I could do that Jedi mind stuff - see a hot girl and go "Mmmm ... make out with me, you will" - and then, BOOM, she gets naked and is Giselle Bundchen.

But I actually didn't have time to canoodle because I was too darn busy auditioning for a part in the the upcoming MAGNUM P.I. feature film. That's right, remaking old TV shows is apparently the only way to get a script written these days. They asked me how I would go about playing the part I was auditioning for - Rick, the club owner.

ME: "Well, Rick in the TV show was kind of a goof and all he seemed to do was get kidnapped or arrange a meeting with Icepick. I think we need to camp it up a little. You know. I am funnier and more charming than Owen Wilson so imagine if he were doing it, only a lot prettier. I could say things like, 'Magnum, what in our history together suggests I am capable of something like that?' People will laugh."

CASTING AGENT: "Well, this is more like the TV show. The action and the drama. It isn't a spoof, like the Starsky and Hutch film."

ME: "No, of course not. It was about an impossibly handsome guy who lived at the estate of a famous writer for free and drove his Ferrari and nailed a different hot chick every week and shot people and never got arrested. In Hawaii. What's there to spoof?"

CASTING AGENT: (blank stare)

Well, I don't think I got the part, which is too bad. Because I can make stuff happen. Like earthquakes, for example. Sure as I am sitting here if I go out to a hostess bar in Tokyo, there will be an earthquake. My proof? Well, earthquakes have happened to me before.This time the three of us return to a joint in Shin-Yokohama called The New Club and the first thing you will notice if you go is that they don't want any rabble in their establishment:

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So we sit and one guy with me has them bring over his bottle of Japanese Soju - yeah, he comes here a lot if he keeps booze on site - and they bring me some kind of Udon tea and I fire up a cigar. I am legendary for having no patience about sitting around in bars without cigars aplenty on hand so they make sure I will be content right away. In my travelling humidor there are seven remaining so, if need be, I can stay awhile.

Suddenly this vast array of attractive Japanese women come over and sit with us - a very Japanese thing to have happen. A young lady sits next to me and tells me I look famous.

"Really? Who do I look like?"

"Tom Cruise," she says. "What's your name?"

"Tom Cruise," I tell her and she laughs.

"You funny. Like that guy in The Mask."

"Jim Carrey??? But he's ugly. You should stick with Tom Cruise."

"But he is very small. You are big."

"And pretty. Let's not leave that out," I remind her.

Suddenly, the floor is vibrating. Geez, not again. Can a big Gaijin not even pay for the privilege of having a barely attractive girl who speaks no English talk to him in this crummy town without getting an earthquake out of the deal?

But there it is, and it is vibrating not just a little, like the last one, but a lot. Real sensory-deprivation, wall-fixtures-shaking kind of thing. They are all looking around at each other and they have to be used to it, so this one must be close. Looking around myself, and thinking back to my MAGNUM P.I. movie experience, I realize this is how it looks on TV when they vibrate the whole plane in disaster films. And that reminded me of my flight into Narita Airport.

They had screwed up my reservation but still managed to secure me a nice exit row aisle seat. Important for the big Gaijin. The stewardess comes over and hands me a laminated card and reminds me that since I am in the exit row I need to read the safety instructions.

"I think the arrow and the big red letters that say OPEN pretty much tell me what I need to know," I am sarcastic because I am still a little grumpy about the screw-up at United Airlines. Plus she is not hot at all.

"Sir, it is important that you know what to do in the event of an emergency."

"In the event of an emergency? If this plane goes down, I know exactly what will happen." She blanches at this. In post-September 2001 air travel, stewardesses maintain even more ridiculous levels of authority than they had previously so if she thinks I am going to mention plane crashes or bombs, I could easily be diverted to the anal probe section of SFO. "I've seen LOST. If the plane goes down, I end up on a beach. With Evangeline Lilly. And cameras rolling. I am okay with all three of those things."

I am smiling. She is smiling. Life is good.

They film that show in Hawaii, you know. So the one state I have never flown to comes up yet again. Maybe I should have tried out for Thomas Magnum in the movie. I might have had better success than my funny approach to Rick.

Nahhh, the only thing Magnum about me is my condoms. And I could never pull off the moustache.

posted by Buckaroo at 7:01 AM |

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