Welcome aboard the H.M.S. CommonAnomaly for the latest edition of...pause for effect...
That's right folks, it’s time to kick back, relax, grab a handful of pepperoni, a couple of Boston crème donuts, and prepare to have your mind exploded. Said exploding will be followed by immediate reconstitution for a second mind exploding moment. As the late, great
Christopher Reeve said on the set of
Superman II, "What the shit does "Superman throws his 's' shield at the handi-capable super-villain like a fris-bee mean?” Have there been some re-writes?"
To which replacement director, Richard Lester, famously replied. "Shut your corn-fed pie hole, cake eater, and just do it or I will give you AIDS."
Richard Lester, confirmed ruiner of Superman, accused (by me) creator of AIDSIf you've been to an American theme park recently, you already know that the owners and operators maintain a grasp on reality only marginally stronger than
Ayn Dildoface…I mean
Rand, silly me. I can't knock their business sense. We gladly travel, often thousands of miles, to their parks, pay exorbitant amounts of money to wait for hours in lines for what amount to be borderline safe rides, and the privilege of overpaying for shitty food that we'll eat with
Marvin The Martian standing over our shoulder hoping to hug our young and impressionables. As Americans, we offer up our trust to them that the fried dough contains no trans fats, is gluten free and has 11 essential vitamins and nutrients and the guys in the suits are only level 1 sex offenders only to run full speed into the fake
Papa John's they've painted on the side of a rock wall, all
Wile E. Coyote style Theme Parks like to remind us that, at one point in time, America was a land of opportunity, where a whistling, bipedal mouse could easily find work driving a steam train and speech impedimented rednecks could eagerly await their prey to mistake them for a medical professional and stick their fingers in the bippity boppity end of a double barreled shotgun. They also remind us that at one point, most Americans had waist lines, not waist ellipses.
Ellipses have twin focii. That’s science. Miley Cyrus has nothing to do with science, she's a product of Satan.I give you, the average American:
EEK!! He’s possessed by the devil and the devil doesn’t have red eye correction software!! The horror.Now here is what the theme park owners think the average American will look like in one of their standard roller coaster seats:
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Tiny human and chair shown are actual size. Yes, on everyone’s screen. Stop criticizing me.So, basically, the f**kplates that build these rides seem to think that a + b = they’re stupid. Well they’re right about one thing, they’re stupid. There are precious few things on earth that are more embarrassing than having to get out of something because you’re too big, especially in front of, sometimes, hundreds of people, like having to get up in church after you just let out a wet hymn from your lower praying-hole or waking up and realizing that you’re
Vanilla Ice. A simple feat of engineering that could be accomplished by a four-year-old, attention deficient, cyclops with a mouthful of gum and a handful of Legos would be necessary to correct a problem that’s causing grief to thousands of people every day. Scientists have brought us miracles like
Flintstones Chewable vitamins and hot dogs with cheese in the middle. Getting them to halt the research on the next great boner pill or upgrading the
Sham-Wow to be able to soak up the ultra dense material known as hooker spit so that they may create a safe yet adjustable roller coaster seat shouldn’t be that big of a problem. This has been the most ludicrous paragraph you have ever read.
Now, some parks have actually caught onto the American’s War on 34 inch waist pants and incorporated an American sized seat on every car for their biggest attractions. This is a, however, only a partial solution because not all of us are fat, gasp. There are also a number of roller coasters that one cannot ride simply because of their height. You know the term “breakneck speed”? That actually applies here, literally.
Someone with overly long legs could end up giving someone the biggest kick to the jibblies in recorded history, narrowly beating out the infamous rochambeau contest between Johnny Ironfoot and Neil "Wears a magnet behind his balls" Mahoney Other coasters are built to snap the neck of anyone who can dunk a basketball without amazing athletic ability and other tall people, this is all part of the plan devised by evil assholes that manufacture step ladders to make their shitty product more relevant. The proliferation of ‘near miss’ portions of Roller Coasters has wrought ire among both the freakishly tall and human giraffe hybrids by producing caosters designed to decapitate any person whose height cannot be appropriately determined when departing a convenience store, the bastards. These coasters have also drawn much speculation from the masses of unwashed Roller Coaster Tycoons who insist that they designed better coasters in their sleep. Then there’s this monstrosity. The Hollywood Rip, Ride Rockit at Universal Studios in Florida.
There’s a computer panel that lets you select your own music, LEDs flashing and digital video cameras filming you during this ride, basically they turned an iPod into a f**king rollercoaster. Yet when I ride
Bizarro at
Six Flags New England, I get to have my ballticles viced between my legs because I happen to have very manly, child-bearing hips and ‘son of thunder’ thighs. Go f**k yourself, Steve Jobs. When push comes to shove, I'd rather be able to get on the ride than to program it so play "Total Eclipse of The Heart" before I'm told that I'm too fat to ride by the guy who couldn't accurately guess my weight for the half hour where he was covering his friend's lunch break.
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This concludes out broadcast day. Stay tuned for the next edition of Byrd's Brain, brought to you by man with more hair, more flair, yet so debonair, Justin Byrd. I'll be back again in two weeks.
