Does his part at the office.

View from the International Space Station of Earth.

Looks kinda sexy.

Protects his personal space.

So, this is how they pass the time. I wouldn't know...I'm never bored at work. Always busy, always industrious, always focused.

Like all people who don't consult the Bible to solve practical problems, I'm at war with Christmas. I wish people "Happy Holidays" , promote the idea of Santa Claus in order to deflect attention away from the role of the Christ-child, and accentuate the pagan elements of the celebration in favor of the Christian ones, which are in extreme danger with our country maintaining a paltry incidence of Christians at a mere 76%. And why wouldn't I? I stand to gain so much from the effort, I really can't afford not to. But we need a shot in the arm. So I'm mining the great war-mongers of the past for material. What do say, Genghis? How would you attack Christmas?

Genghis Khan: Well, first I'd find a few stores that feature religiously neutral decorations, like holly, wreaths, and maybe even some Kwanzaa stuff, because they'd clearly be part of the war effort. I'd absorb them into my army and ride to a store that has the nerve to wish people "Merry Christmas" when they check out. While riding we'd drag yule logs behind our horses to kick up extra dust and give the appearance of greater numbers. When I arrived at the store, let's say it's a Wal-Mart in Texas, I'd explain to the manager that he can either surrender, or everyone in the store can be killed. Then I'd camp out that night, instructing my soldiers to each light 3 Christmas trees apiece instead of just one, again to give the impression of greater numbers. We'd probably light a few Menorahs as well, just to show how at war with Christmas we really are. Naturally, there would be no praying.

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Make hay when the sun shines. That's David Beresford-Redman's motto. After ignoring the media since his son, Bruce, who is a former producer of Survivor, was accused of murdering his wife in Mexico, David decided he'd make the media work for him. To sell cars. He handed out fliers to reporters the other day, promising an on-camera interview to the organization that found buyers for the three vehicles. The '03 Porsche Targa was described as a "gorgeous, fast, clean car". I've got no reason not to believe him, and I don't want to risk pissing his son off by bad-mouthing his car. Of course, the most interesting aspect of this story is that DBR is one of those guys who wears brown-tinted sunglasses, which I thought only existed in pictures of my Dad and uncles from the seventies. The Beresford-Redmans are no relation to rapper Redman.

Christmas. Yeah, we're going there. I never said this would be a smooth ride. Christmas is of course the celebration of the day Jesus was born and placed in a manger because there was "no room at the inn". Seriously?  Who was running this inn? Messianic prophecy or not, it's a couple who had a baby 5 minutes ago, you can't make some space? Hell wouldn't even pull that shit, and we're talking about a place that dedicates an entire high-rise to gleefully forcing glass shards under the eyelids of false witnesses.

Christmas is also the beginning of Christmastide, the so-called 12 days of Christmas, made famous in the song of the same name. Allow me to take a breath before going into this one. Let's think about this. The first 4 days, the singer's "true love" - and I put that in quotations because I'm not sure I buy that designation for reasons I'll explain - gives her (Yeah, her. I've lived so long I stopped counting my age when we went from Roman to Arabic numerals, and I can tell you this: chicks don't buy guys multiple swans. Sorry boys, ain't gonna happen.) a partridge (with tree), 2 turtle doves, 3 french hens, and 4 colly birds. The song seems to suggest that these things are stacked every day, so on the first day it's a partridge in a pear tree, and on the second day it's 2 turtle doves and a second partridge in a pear tree, and so on. I'm going to assume that's not the case, and that each subsequent mentioning of a gift is a reference to the original, and not a duplicate gift. If I'm wrong, then what I took to be merely absurd is actually whatever is above absurd. Preposterous?

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What could be better than watching girls fail? maybe watching your coworkers getting punched in the face.

From the LiquidGeneration Office of Things That Are Probably Not True, we stumbled upon an observation by a member of Buzzfeed who seems to think that George Clooney is a big fat racist. Or something. Here you can see him standing in applause for Sandra Bullock at the Oscars, but he is curiously seated for Mo'Nique's speech. Hmm. Maybe he just doesn't like women with hairy legs?

Toby from The Office is one of our favorite characters ever invented, if only because we just love to see Michael Scott berate the crap out of him for anything he does. However, he is kind of creepy. Like serial killer creepy. And rape-y looking. You didn't even know that was a word, did you? Yep, "rape-y" is a special word used only for Toby from The Office. Well, somebody awesome took this observation and made a movie trailer about it.

American Apparel just ended their Best Bottom In The World contest; you can see the top three butts right here. There were over a thousand entries, and the winner will be flown to LA for a special photoshoot, but if their really lucky they'll probably be sexual harrassed by CEO Dov Charney (yippee!)!

This competition is a little crazy. I mean, forget about the Top 3 Best Butts...here are the Top 20. For the life of me I cannot figure out what is wrong with any of these or how one can be better than the other. They all look the same and by "same" I mean I would shoot a dozen puppies just to see them in person. Don't believe me? Just try it, ladies! Come to my office and see what will happen!

But what about the big time losers in this contest? Did anybody really submit a butt that wasn't attractive? I clicked my mouse over a hundred times to find out.

THE TOP 5 UGLIEST BUTTS IN THE WORLD

Now, there were a bunch of people with scores of zero. We're not going to count those because they probably entered the contest late and their butts are just too nice to be losers, so we suspect there is a glitch in The Matrix. We just took the lowest of the scores that weren't 0.0. Here's what we found.

5. Carlos. Score: 1.24

Why did they let dudes enter this contest? A major fail on the part of the organizers. Plus, his photo is in black & white. Fail on top of Fail.

4. Alisa. Score: 1.22

I'm not sure where the ass is on this lady, or if it's really a lady. It could be a dude like Carlos. I don't really want to investigate any further.

3. JL. Score: 1.21

Hairy legs! A Sure winner we tell you (maybe in Afghanistan)!

2. Shyla. Score: 1.19

Am I missing something? Where is this lady's butt? Did it fall off on her way to the meth lab? I really want to know as to avoid the town she live in.

And the #1 Ugliest Butt In The World....

1. Raggedy. Score: 1.17

There is no cottage cheese in this woman's butt. It's pure milkshake. 2%. And thank God she's wearing black underwear. We don't really want to know what's happening behind that bikini.

(via American Apparel's Best Bottom Contest)

We love to eat, but not as much this dog and gazelle.

On slow days at the office we often look at this picture for hours and wonder what the hell he's chewing on. It's perplexing and we can't stop thinking about it.

Dear Southwest,

I was saddened to learn of the plight of Hollywood polymath Kevin Smith. It is unfortunate that as the world grows in size, airplane seating remains mired in an age of smaller, trimmer bee-hinds. Having been a Southwest fanatic since being old enough to purchase airfare, I would like to suggest amending the customers-of-size policy before a tsunami of lawsuits overflows my favorite airline much like customers’ cheeseburgers overflow your armrests.

I have always been perplexed by the arbitrary rules chiseled into air-travel. 50lb bags are ok but 50+a pair of shoes = $25. The armrest rule makes sense but the width of the armrests seems narrow for the times and the overhead compartments have been whittled into wedges that discourage no one from stuffing in their bulging closets. We need change. The country wants it. And being who you are, it should be you to trailblaze.

Unlike politics where the goal is to grow bigger and spend more, business change can happen economically. At your core, your business is little different from that of any parcel service. You shuttle parcels from point A to point B for profit. Yours only happen to have heartbeats. And whiney demands. And peanut allergies. But at the very very core, the business is the same. The heavier the load and the larger its dimensions, the higher the cost of freight. It simply costs more to ship Mr. Smith and his colleagues in circumference than a group of people gymnast-sized.

So how best to handle arbitrary body-sizes? Formulaically.

At the curb-side checkin, Southwest should install scales where the passenger, with all baggage will be weighed. The total weight is the burden of the airline based on which the fuel is purchased. Computers will also size up both the person and the carry-on and decide how best to seat them and how much space will be required to make things comfortable for everyone. Customers-of-width can easily be seated next to customers-of-length without too much negative effect. Since size is arbitrary, so should be the armrest widths, and all passengers can have the option to purchase as much width as they like on top of their required minimum. Analogy would be choosing the right-sized box for your parcel except the parcel is yourself. It must cover your shipment but beyond that, your box can be as big as your budget allows. All collected data will boil down to a price which would be the passenger’s fare. Those watching in horror as a Mr. Smith-size person lumbers towards that middle-seat will know that even though the flight will be unpleasant, Mr. Smith paid more for his than they did. He should considering his greater burden. Given that we humans are fairness-minded apes, that knowledge alone would make things better. At least until the TSA requires stasis for air travel at which point you’ll just be able to stack us up any which way. Just don’t beak our legs like you do our roller-wheels.

Love & Bacon Grease,

Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SFF - Southwest Fan Forever

http://www.helgasmailroom.com/

Me and Kevin, right before he ate that child.

Look at this sad bastard. The economy is truly effecting EVERYBODY. Even in space and thousands of years into the feature YOU CANNOT RUN. I can't find out where you can send money to Darth Vader, but I'm sure there's a PayPal account setup somewhere in his name. If you find it, let us know in the comments.