Okay, so you know how everything is bad and there’s no sign of anything getting better? It’s time to exploit that. It is time to turn a profit on the state of the world generally, and I have a plan that I will use to better myself and only myself.
Let’s move back a bit
You know what I’m enjoying, and I have enjoyed for the past, like, two years?
I only have to pay like eleven dollars per month to the Netflix corporation to watch as much of The Office as I like. I like that show. I do a podcast about that show. It’s a classic. Also, now, I’m into It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. I know I’m about five years behind the curve on that. I like being about five years behind the curve on that. I just watched This is the End like last year.
But now, just as the tide turns, Netflix is losing these shows to Hulu or Crackle or Blockbuster or whatever, and they’re never ever coming back. I’m gonna be paying eleven dollars per month for my monthly viewing of the Enron documentary and my daily viewings of the scene in Friday Night Lights where the nerd kid murders a man. I didn’t even get to finish the Vince Vaughn boxing movie.
It is during times like these when I am reminded of this image that I apparently made back in 2012 when I was sixteen. Continue reading
This Tuesday was special election day, a day upon which people across these great United States voiced their opinion and elected new officials in their local communities. These elections, while perhaps not as ballyhooed as the presidential or mid-term elections, are arguably the most important elections to the average citizen. In the odd-numbered years, we see mayoral, city council, and school board elections that can very easily change the everyday life of the voter. It is pertinent that voters come to the polls well-informed, as they’re often voting for the person who decides their child’s future in school, or chooses to put money into their roads, or vetoes the new Burger King.
Unfortunately, voters don’t turn up for the odd-year elections as much as they do the presidential ones. While this is to be expected, it’s a problem aggravated by the media’s low coverage and the average voter’s difficulty in finding information regarding a given candidate especially on a small scale. Unfortunately, voters often turn up to the polls more often than not completely unprepared to cast their vote, uninformed on the issues but still dutiful in casting a ballot.
This, I hope, is an explanation for the fact that I got voted “King Dumbass” in Dekalb County, Illinois in 2017. On election day, thousands of people decided, overwhelmingly, that I deserved to be “King Dumbass”. I ran unopposed. Thousands of ballots, reading “KING DUMBASS _ JOE BUSH” – and only that – were printed. Enough people saw that and said “Yeah, he’s King Dumbass alright” and went ahead and ticked that box. I didn’t even ask to be on there.
This is my official government photo now. The photographer told me “Joe, think real hard about your broken dreams” before he took the picture.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Mister Bush, the fact that you ate one Candy bar isn’t enough to justify a post.” Well, guess what:
It is.
The Zero bar is a mythical, barely-existent candy bar. Go to your local candy store, they’ll have it, probably. Go to your local Gas station, they might have it. Go to your local vending machine, though, and chances are, it won’t be there. The average candy machine might have Big Red gum, or Mounds, or… like… Gardetto’s… But no Zero bar.
You don’t happen upon a Zero bar. You have to seek out a Zero bar. I had to seek out a Zero bar. This afternoon, when I went into the one store on the campus of this major four-year research institution that stocked Zero bars, I knew what I was coming in for and what I was leaving with. Continue reading
The Mecca of College Basketball. The Cathedral of College Basketball. The Home of College Basketball. The White House of College Basketball. The Indianapolis Children’s Museum of College Basketball. All names you’ve heard to describe one building: Allen Fieldhouse. Kansas Basketball hasn’t lost in Allen Fieldhouse since Sherron Collins’ “Leg Caught in a Bear Trap” game in 2009, and they look to defend all thirteen of their conference titles this season upon the hallowed home floor.
“Old Fieldhousey,” as it’s called, can get rowdy, wild, and even rambunctious, but one thing it’s definitely going to get is chaotic. A lot of people pack into this old house and yell really loud every now and then, and boy do you hear it. At Big XII Basketball Media Day this week, several Big XII coaches weighed in on their toughest experiences at the Fieldhouse.
I bet you’d like to know, wouldn’t you? You’d like to just reach inside this squishy little brain of mine and pluck out that juicy listicle I’ve been forming in my brain ever since I saw the specs on that Super Nintendo mini? Ever since I saw all 21 one of those games you put up on that big HDMI-enabled TV of yours, I’ve been formulating and scheming for this little listicle about my favorite Nintendo 64 hits, and I know you wanna see them. You would, wouldn’t you?
Dare me to tell you? Dare me to open my big mouth and spill the beans about which games I’d spend hours working and straining to beat on a Nintendo 64 classic? Do you? I bet you would.
Fine. Maybe one game wouldn’t hurt you… But I’m warning you, it’s a good one.
Oh, what’s that? Not the game you were expecting to come first? Didn’t think I’d drop an extreme sports game this early on the list? Bet you didn’t think Ricky Winterborn would be the first thing to come to my mind… Poor thing, you probably wanted that Italian boy, or the elf first, right? Maybe if I give you another game, you’ll be satisfied.
Oh, don’t lie to me, you’ll never be satisfied… but maybe this one will get your gears turning – Continue reading
Boss says we’ve let ’em down… We ain’t got that much to give them, though.
You see this? This looks like a rock, and maybe it is, but damn it, this is what we got down here in the Szechuan Sauce mines. This is where you get the shit. One of these little briquettes, if broken properly, gets you like… half of a milliliter, a drip, of sauce. Apparently it’s good sauce, but we get paid $4.13 per milliliter, so any sauce I taste is coming out of my own pocket.
Mining the sauce isn’t a great time either. If you do it wrong, you lose all of it, and there’s no perfect way to get it. If I go through ten rocks, I probably get sauce out of like three of ’em, and I end up with like maybe half of a Diet Pepsi bottle worth of sauce by the end of each work day. It’s tough work but it’s a lot of cash. But it’s not a lot of sauce, if you catch my drift.
It was all good for like 20 years, we made what we made and we shipped it wherever we shipped it, which was okay especially after we had to shut down two thirds of the mine in like 2004 or so (It’s the damned Super Size Me man’s fault, McDonald’s really overhauled after he puked in their parking lot).
Then the Rich and Mortie program came back and fucked it all up.
This man and his hair and coat have ruined this job. The boy I am okay with but he’s on thin ice.
I messed up. I messed up real bad. I messed up real bad in a number of ways. I messed up real bad in a number of ways which I will now lay out in list form as new media dictates I do:
The Blogging Pendant is antique, and magical, and it was imperative that I found it. The Blogging Pendant’s magical powers are what force me to post on this website, and for as long as I’ve held The Pendant, I’ve been forced to write for this website. As soon as it leaves my possession, the world gets a little brighter, but I lose the ability to post on this site, and I simply cannot have that.
Anyway, I’m currently stuck in this… cave, it seems. I’m alone, and I’m afraid, and literally all that I can do is post.
Friends, family, folks of all sorts: I need help. I need to be rescued from this cave, and as new media has dictated, I need to list out every reason why that is.
I can’t see a darn thing. It’s all black. Here’s the photo that I took of my current situation
This week, the internet microblogging site Twitter committed to pushing the famous 140 character limit per tweet to 280. This has already proven controversial, but that’s nothing new for Twitter. Everything Twitter does is controversial, from shutting down one of the two good social media platforms, to not at all pursuing the huge harassment problems on the site, to switching up the long-standing chronological timeline that made Twitter the behemoth that it became. Now, they’re shifting the bedrock of the site. Microblogging and Twitter are the exact same thing in public perception, and 140 characters was what defined it that way.
Look, Twitter, you’re barking up the wrong tree here. People don’t want more of Tweets.
The greatest possible tweet in Twitter history has already been Tweeted. How many characters is that tweet? Only 35 characters. ESPN presenter and journalism professional Stephen A Smith only needed 35 characters to write potentially the funniest thing I’ve ever read, and I don’t care if it’s intentional or not. A tweet should be like, one thought, and one thought alone. Multiple thoughts don’t belong in one tweet, that’s what lengthy threads are for, and we praise Twitter for allowing that. Continue reading
The heathen Crunch has returned, and he has ceased his perversion of the humble doughnut and has moved forward to destroy more of what we love so dearly. Crunch is a mad man and nothing more. Crunch will burn in hell for what he hath wrought to breakfast and rightfully so.
Now Crunch has bastardized his own cereal and presented his people with a false new product, an illusion of innovation that, while perhaps superior in quality to the hedonistic so-called “innovation” of Sprinkled Donut Crunch, is equivalent in wretchedness due to the transparency of Crunch’s creative bankruptcy.
This devil’s eyebrows transfix the laws of permanence in their protrusion above the helmet
Joe Bush dot Net 
