Chipotle Isn’t Going Anywhere Except Inside My Belly



Chipotle said today that on February 8th it is shuttering all of its stores for a few hours to have a company-wide meeting, during which they’ll try and figure out how to stop their food from giving everyone E.coli, but anyone forecasting Chipotle’s demise is dead wrong.

If history has taught us anything, it’s that in order to enjoy delicious Mexican fast food like Chipotle or Taco Bell we as a society have to accept that some people are going to get E.coli every once in awhile.

Chipotle isn’t going to have a eureka moment on Feb. 8 where they realize once and for all how to stop the scourge that is E.coli. Instead, they’ll announce a bunch of safety regulations they are implementing and then a few weeks or months will go by without a reported case of the disease and we’ll all rejoice while gorging on burrito bowls because it’s sooo much healthier without the wrap.

Then someone will get E.coli again and we’ll be back at square one.

The Time A Shirtless Joe Girardi Hated My Dad


A bunch of summers ago during a family trip to Fire Island my dad and I were walking down the beach and talking about various stupid topics when suddenly two shirtless dudes ran by us.

After the couple of seconds it took our brains to register what had just happened, we realized that one of the dudes was Yankees manager Joe Girardi (we think the other one was his son). Since they had come from behind us and were thus running in the same direction we were walking, we eventually caught up to them once they stopped their jog to do sit-ups in the sand.

Not wanting to annoy Girardi mid sit-up but also unwilling to accept a future in which we had to explain to our family and friends that we saw Joe but didn’t interact, my dad tossed out what he thought was a softball quip the skipper could hit out of the park for a couple Yankees fans.

Dad: Hey Joe, can you do that move where you jump up from the ground without using your hands?

An extremely exasperated Girardi answered “yeah, obviously.”

Except he didn’t do the move, because shirtless Joe Girardi hated my dad.

Fire Alarms Mean Nothing In The Adult World And One Day I Will Die Because Of That


The fire alarm just sounded in my office for a good 25 minutes, siren blaring, lights flashing, and literally not a single person took any precaution whatsoever. We all kind of looked around at each other and said “you think this is real?” while continuing to go about our day.

Finally after roughly 25 minutes the building’s fire marshall or whatever he’s called got on the PA system and said “the alarm has been cancelled, everyone please go back to your daily duties,” so no one had to move at all because none of us stopped our daily duties.

Point is, fire alarms don’t matter in adult life. Unless I actually feel the heat or see flames a’blazin I’m not moving an inch, and I can only assume that one day my reluctance to believe our alarm system is doing its job will be the cause of my untimely death.

Pussification Of America: Pixar’s ‘The Good Dinosaur’ Is A Pathetic Version Of ‘The Lion King’



Obviously everyone knows the Lion King scene where Mufasa is killed by the stampede and then Simba keeps nudging him and asking him to wake up. It’s devastating. Simba spends a good 10 seconds walking around his father’s limp body and then desperately tries to wake him, refusing to believe the King of Pride Rock is gone forever. Disney shows tears streaming down Simba’s face as he leaves Pride Rock, never to return again (until many years later when he does return).

imgres-1.jpgThe reason I write this is not to drag you back to that tearjerker of a scene, but I was recently reminded of the devastation the Lion King portrayed while I was watching The Good Dinosaur, which Pixar put out last year.

In The Good Dinosaur, the little dinosaur kid is forced to undergo a similar horror when his dad is swept away by a raging river during a storm. The scene is basically the same as in the Lion King, just replace the stampede with some vicious rapids. Little dino kid stands safely on high ground and can only watch as his father falls to his death below. The only difference is that in The Good Dinosaur the dad is swept away, never to be seen again, so you’re left wondering for the whole movie whether he actually survived somehow. Spoiler alert: the dad does not come back, so yeah he’s dead.

The reason this lack of closure gets my goat is that the movie in general shows very little death, save for an agood-dinosaur-680x400.jpgbnormally large insect that has its head ripped off, but even that scene is played as a joke. It’s funny that the insect gets decapitated because it’s just a dumb insect, so who gives a shit. Little dino kid even meets up with a group of T-Rex’s who chomp down on some bad guys but don’t actually devour them, instead just picking them up with their mouths and flinging their still-alive bodies out of sight.

Watching Simba have to deal with Mufasa’s death didn’t scar me as a child, if anything it probably taught me that the death of loved ones is just a thing we all go through in our lives. The Good Dinosaur taught me nothing and left me disappointed that I took the time to Google ‘The Good Dinosaur Online Free’ so I could watch it illegally.                                                  
PS. Sorry BigCat, but the Simba meme with injured Derrick Rose is one for the history books. In general that meme is almost always funny.hvv2mtgwnrcls4t7jqkd

Kristaps Porzingis Is The Son Of Blanko The Space Jam Monstar

Kristaps Porzingis makes no sense as a human being, but he would make plenty of sense as a human-alien hybrid who was born with the innate talents of 7’6” Shawn Bradley and then worked his whole life to develop those basketball abilities.


Bradley, by the way, wasn’t as terrible a basketball player as you might think, despite being mostly known for making great poster fodder, so it’s not crazy to think that his talents plus the addition of alien blood could make for a budding 7’3″ superstar like Porzingis. Bradley averaged 8 points, 6 rebounds and 2 ½ blocks a game for his career, which obviously isn’t great but it’s also not the worst considering he played in the era of dominant centers and had to face the likes of Shaq, Patrick Ewing, Hakeem Olajuwon, David Robinson, Alonzo Mourning, Dikembe Mutombo, etc., pretty much every night for his whole career.

Honestly, the aliens’ plan here is pretty transparent – have Blanko  impregnate an earthling while he still has Bradley’s talents/height and then have her wait about 2 decades before unleashing him upon the world while pretending he’s from a made up country that no one had ever heard of until basically draft night.

Not 100% sure what the endgame is but I’d imagine Danny DeVito’s character is still super pissed that he lost out on enslaving MJ, so don’t be surprised when Porzingis eventually signs with Jordan Brand and then His Airness suddenly and mysteriously disappears. 

Uproar Over Pics Of JPP’s Hand Blowing Up Faster Than His Fireworks

“Drugs are bad.” – a thing often said by liars.

There’s been a whole lot of hubbub about JPP’s hand since the New York Daily News “exclusively  obtained” photos of the nub (aka sent a seedy photographer to stake out JPP’s house until he finally emerged).

And while all the Scary Movie and Chubbs Peterson jokes are hilarious/warranted and the criticism related to the rich millionaire athlete personally being the one to set off fireworks is well-deserved, it’s important to understand that having one mutilated hand does not mean JPP’s career is over. In fact, for my money I’d wager he’s yet to play his best football.

“Damn alligator bit my hand off!”
Not enough concern was given to this dude’s wrist, by the way. His wrist is a twig.

The pictures might make it look like JPP is zonked out of his mind on some kind of glorious pain medication, but you can bet that inside that massive 6’5″, 275 pound frame is a beast desperate to be unleashed. Give JPP a few months to get in shape and the Giants will be begging him to get on that field (and good lord could they use him out there, by the way).

If Jim Abbott was able to throw a freaking no-hitter with literally nothing but a stump at the end of his right arm then JPP shouldn’t have any trouble racking up sacks and tackles. The man has almost two entire hands for Christ’s sake.

A true American hero.