BrokenJPG

Une Fille Comme Les Autres from Jalouse blog on Vimeo.

Well done, whoever thought of this. And well done to whoever has enough faith in their brand to take the piss out of it this way.

Today is the fourth anniversary of BrokenJPG! Quick- somebody make a poop joke!

Oh. Covered that, huh? Maybe some technology humor?

Really? Jeez. Ok, how about a hate-fueled rant regarding popular culture?

Augh! Fine! Let’s just rip on something topical!

Yeah, yeah, you’re right. That is how this whole thing got started.

Fuck. I better come up with some new material before this shit gets stale.

…aaaaaand there’s your poop joke.

Eh? EH? Zing.

hey look
you found
the hidden text!
Ninjas

Seriously, who’s still reading this stuff?

Thanks internet, for suffering through my self-indulgent crap for a whole four years! It warms the cockles of my heart. Which is creepy. Get out of my cockles, you perverts.

When my daughter asks me why we have the internet, this will be my answer.

I have a wealth of concerns about my impending parenthood. One of them is the way current parents use the word “fountain” to describe their offspring’s eliminatory actions. Another is the fear I’ll lose all my friends as I slowly lose the ability to talk about anything other than my daughter.

I don’t really think this will happen. Partly because I have more in common with my friends than our mutual not having of babies, and partly because even now i’m able to carry on a conversation without mentioning babies every other sentence.

But it seems to be happening less and less. Because all my friends want to do is talk about babies. “What’s new?” “Whatever man, tell me about your baby!”

Yeah? You wanna hear me break down just how stupid non-intuitive stroller construction can be? Or how the entire world seems to think anything intended for a baby girl has to look like it’s been puked on by a rainbow? You think that’s scintillating? Then brace yourself, friend, and make sure your seat back and tray table are locked in the upright position.

Cause we can talk about the baby. I’ve got plenty to say on the subject. But there will come a day, perhaps years from now, when I’ll hang up the phone or walk away from the table after the bill’s been paid, and you’ll turn to the person next to you and mutter “all he ever talks about is his kid.”

And when that day comes, remember- I tried. I gave you the option. You brought this on yourself.

Boom Boom from Larry Ziegelman on Vimeo.

This is the politically inappropriate terrorist bombing video I always wanted to see.

And that’s about all I have to say about that.

Listen up boys, girls, and biologically confused organisms: I’ve been spewing self-indulgent crap all over this URL for nearly 3 years now. I think it’s time for some changes. I’m gonna update the wrote-it-and-forgot-about-it WTF at some point, but let’s go over the ground rules here.

The “post on Monday” thing, isn’t really working for me. I feel like I’m just phoning it in Sunday evening most of the time, and that sucks. So instead, I’m going to try to update at least once a week. I’ll write when the mood hits me, which I’m hoping will result in better content, even if it’s less content. If you can’t handle uncertainty in your life- you probably shouldn’t be on the internet anyway. Want to know the second a new post goes up? Click that RSS thingy over there on the right.

Also, Friday Features may not be on Fridays anymore. I recognize this makes no sense. I sort of like it that way. It’ll be an inside joke between you and me, internet. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Again, expect at least one video a week. Maybe more.

And this isn’t apropos of anything, but this afternoon a guy with experience building larger-than-life structures out of cardboard and a doctor spent half an hour trying to figure out how to unfold a stroller. After collapsing it. They had to use their phones to ask the internet. And it still took ten minutes after that. My offspring is screwed.

An open letter to my past. From my present. Which is his future.

What’s up 2010 me? Life’s pretty good, yeah? Working at a Madison Avenue agency, got a pretty sweet apartment, published a freaking book. You did well, man.

I don’t want to freak you out or anything, but the future’s not going to be what you think it is. In about 3 months, you’re going to be laid off. It’s ok though, I’m fairly certain it goes down in history as The Best Layoff Ever. Plus the new job is equally awesome. They have a ping pong table in the office, and free beer on Thursdays. And you get to do some really awesome work. No, it’s not a shop you’ve heard of before, but go to the interview anyway, alright? Otherwise we’ll run into some weird time-continuum thing.

Around the same time as The World’s Best Layoff, you’ll find out they’re jacking up the rent 25%. Fuck that place. Save yourself a few days of shopping around and just move three blocks down, to a one-bedroom with an amazing view, right on the water. Floor to ceiling windows overlooking the river. It’s a good move.

This is supposed to be a letter, so I guess you can’t see me. But if you could, you’d immediately know things changed a lot in 2011. I know you’re in great shape, 2010 Ben. It’s a side effect of working on the New Balance campaign. But man, you know nothing. You’re going to tear through P90X, and it’s going to be life-altering. You’re going to be in the best shape ever. Not just up until this point. For all time. Because if we ever see a workout regiment more intense than 2 hours a day, 6 days a week, for 3+ straight months, I don’t want us to do it.

Incidentally, if you can maybe focus on your middle back while you’re doing those exercises, that would be awesome. I didn’t, and it sort of caused a muscular imbalance that resulted in our back muscles literally trying to tear themselves off the spine. Don’t worry though, after 3 months of PT you’ll be pain-free. Anyway, I know I said not to alter the time-stream, but it may be worth trying it in this case.

Speaking of physical changes, I guess that birthmark thing we’ve always had was/is/was pre-cancerous? So you can go ahead and get that removed. Just a heads-up, 2010 me: that barbecue smell during surgery isn’t someone’s lunch being reheated. It’s going to be your face. But you’ll get a badass scar. I have so much more street cred than you do. Seriously, the ladies love it.

You’ll try to start a bunch of side projects, fresh off your book success. Aside from releasing your book in digital format, they, uh, they won’t be finished. I’m sorry about that. Hopefully I’ll be able to recapture some of your dedication in 2012. I don’t think it’s entirely my fault though. As you can see, 2011 was a crazy year.

Oh, yeah. You’re gonna get The Wife pregnant. Good job.

-2011 Ben

PS- Shit, I forgot to make this shirt, too.

One of the side-effects of having skills in real life is that you recognize just how much bullshit movies contain. Computer programmers cannot STAND hacking scenes, for example. And when I was doing martial arts, a lot of fight scenes just turned me off entirely, because I could see the holes in the choreography.

Like flips. You never see people doing backflips in street fights, because it’s actually much quicker and safer to just step backward. Same for those disney-esque football movies, where at the last second the receiver does some crazy flip over the opposing team to score a touchdown. I mean, can you comprehend just how difficult that would be? A front-flip alone is really hard to pull off, but now you’re going to do it in a game, on the fly, when it would be so much easier to just spin around and-

…oh. Oh, wow.

Dude. Wow.

Ok, listen up football. You start doing that on the regular, and I won’t just start watching you.

I’ll buy a foam finger.

This is the coolest thing to come out of Toronto since maple syrup and beaver pelts.

Actually, it’s the only cool thing to come out of Toronto besides maple syrup and beaver pelts.