Mayan Calendar Pyramid Scheme

The world isn’t about to end, people. How do I know this? Well, because I’m not a f**king moron.

According to the same people who have been stocking canned tuna since Y2K, December 21, 2012 marks the end of the Mayan calendar and the start of the apocalypse. If you ask me, renewing Whitney for a second season was the start of the apocalypse. The planets aren’t aligning to form world-destroying tidal waves. There isn’t an invisible life-ending asteroid hurtling towards us and the Eqyptian pyramids aren’t alien spaceships in disguise*.

*I am not 100% on this.

Of course the Mayan calendar ended, the Mayan civilization doesn’t exist anymore. How are they supposed to keep pumping out calendars? Besides, I think people are looking at this Mayan calendar thing all wrong. I don’t think the question should be, “Why did the calendar stop?” I think it should be, “Why were the Mayans making calendars 2,000 years into the future anyway?” They were up to some shit, for sure.

Imagine it’s the year 900, you’re Joe, a hard working Mesoamerican busting your ass in the calendar plant:

Joe: Hey Frank, why are we making calendars?
Frank: I dunno.

Joe: I mean, we’re making calendars for 2,000 years in the future? Who’s buying this shit?
Frank: I never thought about that.

Joe: And how come we have to press this button every 108 minutes?
Frank: You’re blowing my mind right now, Joe.

Joe: What if we just stopped? We’re the only two people here.
Frank: I…I guess.

Joe: What was the last day you chiseled into that stone?
Frank: Umm, December 21, 2012.

Joe: Cool cool cool.

What possible reason would they be looking 2,000 years ahead? The only logical explanation is they discovered time travel and saw the holiday calendar business as a lucrative opportunity.

  • Step 1: Discover time travel
  • Step 2: Make 20th century calendars
  • Step 3: Open a mall kiosk
  • Step 4: Profit
  • It’s like the plot to Looper.

    So, this year for Christmas, enjoy that mall kiosk calendar you know you’re going to get from someone with the knowledge that you’re helping to support an ancient civilization too stupid to buy a Farmer’s Almanac.

    This entry was written by Jason Parmele, posted on December 8, 2012 at 11:27 pm. Leave a comment.

    The Zookeeper Bet

    “The Zookeeper bet.” Oh how those three words have loomed over me like things that loom over other things.

    Zookeeper seemed like such a terrible movie that it became the premise of a bet between friends. The loser of said bet would have to watch Zookeeper twice, consecutively, and then write a five page book report.

    Betting that a “ton” was 1,000 lbs and not 2,000, I lost.

    Here’s the first couple paragraphs (download the rest in its entirety below):

    “Every so often a movie comes along that requires us to put our busy, mediocre lives on pause. We have to ask ourselves: ‘Who are we?’, ‘Where did we come from?’, ‘What’s our purpose?’ Unfinished Piece for the Player Piano is one such movie. Zookeeper is not.

    According to Netflix, 62% of people renting Zookeeper inadvertently selected it while trying to rent Zoolander. Joe Neumaier of the New York Daily News calls it, ‘A children’s comedy about talking animals that feels as if it were written by children or perhaps, by talking animals.’

    Kevin James (Griffin) plays an unlucky in love zookeeper with low self-esteem who receives a boost in confidence from talking animals at his zoo. That’s the plot. Seriously, that’s the whole plot. It’s just another in a long line of Happy Madison factory produced flops whose scripts come from Mad Libs templates…”


    This entry was written by Jason Parmele, posted on July 28, 2012 at 10:58 pm. Leave a comment.

    Space Should Be Human Agenda

    Newt Gingrich is running for president by promising a moon base. Awesome. Great. Why don’t we have 10 of these already? It’s like the ultimate tree house. Give me a couple of 2x4s and ply wood and I’ll make this happen. However, I don’t think space exploration should be a national agenda item; it should be human agenda. In his speech to some people who were enthusiastically clapping along he said, “By the end of my second term we will have the first permanent base on the Moon and it will be American.”

    Firstly, we see what you did there with “second term”. Clever. And secondly, if we did have an American base on the Moon it would probably be stamped “Made in China”. We don’t make anything anymore.

    So, look, I’m sold. Stephen Hawking said:

    “Our only chance of long-term survival is not to remain inward looking on planet Earth, but to spread out into space.”

    And nobody says it better than Aaron Sorkin:

    “Because it’s [space] next. Because we came out of the cave, and we looked over the hill, and we saw fire. And we crossed the ocean, and we pioneered the West, and we took to the sky. The history of man is hung on the timeline of exploration, and this is what’s next.”

    I don’t make it a point to disagree with Aaron Sorkin or people who have made contributions to quantum gravity. We have to get off Earth. If only to escape the next Transformers sequel. But we have to do this together. Americans, Chinese, Russians, Japanese, fuck man, if the Iraqis, Iranians, and Cubans want to help I’d let them.

    Two heads are better than one. 24 countries rank better than us in math. 16 countries rank better in science.

    What makes Newt think we can do this alone? Because we called ‘shotgun’ on the Moon? It’s pretty well documented that without the help of Nazi German scientists we lose the Space Race.

    Newt’s claim reminds me of three things:

    1. Promising a soda machine as Class Vice President in 9th grade.
    2. The West Wing where Martin Sheen wanted to announce a cure for cancer.
    3. JFK in ’61.

    These are all inspiring claims. None more so than my dream of (one day) getting a Coke machine inside Holley High School. But this is space, man. It goes back to a question I got in a job interview once, “What’s better: competition or cooperation?” The answer: not blowing each other up before we can colonize another planet, bitches.

    This entry was written by Jason Parmele, posted on January 31, 2012 at 11:51 pm. Leave a comment.

    How to Declare for the NFL Draft

    Normally, I know everything. Square root of 16? 4. Best type of Wheat Thins? Hint of Salt. Best color? Blue. Who’s feeling worse this morning, Kyle Williams or Billy Cundiff? Oh, definitely Kyle Williams. See, I’m a wealth of knowledge.

    But, I haven’t been able to figure out how to declare for the 2012 NFL Draft.

    Last year I choose to stay at Microsoft for my Sophomore year. At the time I felt it was the right move for my career. I thought answering emails, creating PowerPoint templates, and producing podcasts was where God wanted me. My co-workers wanted me back and I was looking forward to the opportunity to three-peat as the Best Workplace in Ireland. To walk away from that, with the talented intern class we had coming in would’ve been a shame I thought.

    In hindsight, I should’ve went pro. My family needed the money and I almost blew out my wrist with Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.

    So, this year I decided to declare. Only, I can’t quite figure out how. It seems so easy. ESPN would lead you to believe that college athletes just sort of announce it. So, ‘I declare.’ Am I in? Do I need to update my Facebook status or tweet this it? I probably need an agent.

    I can’t seem to get a hold of Scott Boras. So, I emailed IMG:

    IMG represents like everybody.

    If you’re an NFL team and you saw me on SportsCenter, here’s some more FAQs:

    Q: What position do you play?
    A: Offense AND defense.

    Q: No special teams, huh?
    A: That’s for practice squad players.

    Q: Where did you play college ball?
    A: SUNY Brockport. In the quad.

    Q: What’s your 40-yard dash time?
    A: Really fast. List of people I’ve beat in a race: Mairead O’Callaghan, Eric Peskor, Mike Ciulla, Robert Arevalos*, Clayton Au-Yueng*.

    Q: What type of contract demands might you have?
    A: A few mil. A Segway for getting around the practice facilities. Weekends off.


    It’s probably not too early to begin thinking about drafting me in your fantasy leagues. I’m gonna double what Chris Johnson did all year in my first game. Once the offensive coordinator sees what I can do, every play will probably be “throw it up to P”. That’s what we do it flag football. I run deep.

    If you guys know somebody, a GM, a coach, Mel Kiper Jr., let them know I’m eligible. Thursday, April 26th I could be wearing your team’s jersey**.

    **I may just end up buying this from Sports Authority.

    This entry was written by Jason Parmele, posted on January 23, 2012 at 11:52 pm. Leave a comment.

    100 Calorie Snack Packs Are a Scam

    An (un)comprehensive list of things that annoy me:

    1. Power walkers
    2. Killing that girl who looked like Julia Robers in Patch Adams
    3. 100 calorie snack packs

    100 calorie snack packs are the biggest scam there is. It reminds me of George from Seinfeld talking about duty free shops at the airport, “Duty free is the biggest sucker deal in retail. Do you know how much duty is? Duty’s nothing.”

    If you’re so desperate to to cut calories, don’t eat mini bags of Oreos to begin with.

    Or how about this, buy a normal package of Oreos and eat just one. That’s only 50 calories. Not to mention You’re being ripped off as well. Those fancy 100 calorie boxes come with like 10-15 cookies. You could buy a normal package for $3 that has 30 cookies. Admittedly I’m not good at math, but one of those deals seems significantly better.

    Again, let me emphasize, if you’re “on a diet” or “watching your weight” or “just trying to eat healthy” you shouldn’t be snacking on Oreos anyway. A 100 calorie Twinkie is still a God damn Twinkie! Buy baby carrots. Eat a banana. Throw up meals in the bathroom if that’s your thing.

    Presumably, if you’re buying 100 calorie snack packs you have trouble limiting your portions. So, OK, fair enough. You’re hoping they will force you to eat less of those delicious golden sponge cakes with creamy filling. But it won’t — you’re weak. You’ll eat all six of those packs during one episode of Ellen.

    Do you think, because the package says 100 calories, you’re eating something healthy? I could package anything as only 100 calories. McDonald’s could sell you a 100 calorie Big Mac that was 1/6th its size and you’d probably think you were eating well.

    “Oh, but they’re great for lunches.”

    1. They’re horrible for lunches. It’s empty calories.
    2. Die.

    They’re just selling you less food for more money. Doesn’t anyone notice this? I FEEL LIKE I’M TAKING CRAZY PILLS!

    This entry was written by Jason Parmele, posted on January 17, 2012 at 1:15 pm. Leave a comment.

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