I’m confused why a company would choose the Trojans as their symbol.

I’ve tried to create a logical analogy between modern condoms and the ancient battle between the Greeks and the Trojans: The Greeks embodied a man and the Trojans personified a woman, the wooden exterior of the horse would have symbolized a condom, the man’s sperm was represented by the army of Greek warriors, the gate of Troy’s wall would be her vagina, the Trojan defenders were spermicide and the highly-prized Helen characterized the woman’s egg.

On the surface, it appears to be quite a clever correlation.

Yet if you dig deeper and discover the outcome of the battle, it doesn’t make sense why they would be so proud to bear the name Trojan® as the most effective protection against invasions.

The female was deceptively wooed by the man. She left her spermicide in the medicine cabinet because he had assured her that is was safe. He slid his condom into her vagina. Once safely inside, his tampered condom broke and flooded her with his sperm. The sperm leader then swam up the perilous Phallopyan Tower and captured the enchanted Egg Princess.

The Trojans failed.

Troy got knocked up.

I could understand, if they sold diaphragms with prefabricated holes marketed towards women who wanted to ensnare men into marriage through pregnancy.

Trojan® Diaphragms— #1 in Unwanted Pregancies

I’m confused why a company would choose the Trojans as their symbol.

I’ve tried to create a logical analogy between modern condoms and the ancient battle between the Greeks and the Trojans: The Greeks embodied a man and the Trojans personified a woman, the wooden exterior of the horse would have symbolized a condom, the man’s sperm was represented by the army of Greek warriors, the gate of Troy’s wall would be her vagina, the Trojan defenders were spermicide and the highly-prized Helen characterized the woman’s egg.

On the surface, it appears to be quite a clever correlation.

Yet if you dig deeper and discover the outcome of the battle, it doesn’t make sense why they would be so proud to bear the name Trojan® as the most effective protection against invasions.

The female was deceptively wooed by the man. She left her spermicide in the medicine cabinet because he had assured her that is was safe. He slid his condom into her vagina. Once safely inside, his tampered condom broke and flooded her with his sperm. The sperm leader then swam up the perilous Phallopyan Tower and captured the enchanted Egg Princess.

The Trojans failed.

Troy got knocked up.

I could understand, if they sold diaphragms with prefabricated holes marketed towards women who wanted to ensnare men into marriage through pregnancy.

Trojan® Diaphragms— #1 in Unwanted Pregancies

Gary was raised in an opharnage and lived in the dorms during college. After graduation, he never owned a car and although he always used public transportation was extremely punctual, and let’s not forget that Gary also fought off the Persians at the battle of Thermopylae.

The last time I went to the beach, I stayed at The Sun Viking Hotel, which had an enormous 50 foot, gaudy, plaster Viking statue in the parking lot. It was a family hotel, and a bunch of kids were running around with souvenir axes and horned helmets. How cute? Then I remembered back to another time I stayed at another beach hotel which was called The Hotel Viking; slightly different, but essentially the same. Every tourist city by the sea has the same lame hotels: some kind of Viking Hotel…across the street Pirate’s Cove…next door the El Conquistador. A lot of people are missing the general theme here. All of these groups being glorified were once associated with murderers, rapist, and thieves. Yippee! Happy family fun-time! I guess all it takes is about 500 to 1000 years to wash away the atrocities of malicious men. The future is looking brighter, and brighter. In the year 3030, you’ll be able to check into The Klansmen by the Sea.

Hotel Clerk
Here’s your key, boy. Room 606. Don’t worry about a thing, we got plenty clean sheets.
If you know what I mean?

Q.
What do all these individuals have in common?
Clara Barton, Walt Whitman, Thomas Edison, Vince Lombardi, Alexander Hamilton, and Grover Cleveland.

A.

Washington got a bridge, Lincoln got a tunnel, but these “lucky” folks are immortalized in the form of rest stops on the New Jersey Turnpike (click here). What an honor. Although, I do approve of Edison being memorialized in this manner. He was a true asshole. Ask Tesla.

The historical “Midnight Ride” would have been known as the “Midnight Post”. Instead of “ridin’ across the land, kickin’ up sand”, he could have simply posted a MySpace bulletin to his 16,000 “friends”.

But now that I think of it, that probably wouldn’t have been that effective since you can only view five bulletins at time.

With 16,000 colonists online, the extremely vital warning bulletin “The British are coming!” would be pushed off the screen instantly by a 1,000 trivial, sophomoric posts from idiots with too much time on their hands.

Zimmerman Telegraph Interception in WWI

A forgotten fact about WWI is the interception of the Zimmerman Telegraph. Germany wanted to divert the US away from the war overseas. So their Foreign Secretary Arthur Zimmerman instructed the German ambassador Heinrich von Eckardt via a telegram to convince Mexico to attack the United States.

It was VERY tempting for the Mexican president, Venustiano Carranza. Obviously, Mexico was still pissed off from losing Texas after decimating their army of 186 men at the Battle of the Alamo. But wisely they decided to stay neutral.

The last thing the citizens of Mexico wanted to do was to empower Texans with the right to legally kill Mexicans.

In recent news, the Minutemen of Texas have convinced themselves that during Saddam’s reign, the Prime Minister of Iraq, Iyad Allawi e-mailed the Mexican government to attack Texas.

They refer to it as the “Allawi E-mail Interception.”

In 1839, anthropologist Samuel George Morton, father of American scientific racism†, wrote Crania Americana. He reported the mean cranial capacity of the skulls by races.

Whites

87 in³ (1,425 cm³)

Blacks

78 in³ (1,278 cm³)

Native Americans

82 in³ (1,344 cm³)

He claimed that the level of IQ is proportional to the size the brain.

Let’s assume Samuel “The Bigot” Morton was correct.

How could he explain the abnormally large skulls consistently found in different Native American tribes?

Almost every tribe had one skull that was 1600 cm³. He systematically deleted this data because it conflicted with his hypothesis that Whites were the supreme race.

My theory is that these massive Charlie Brown-like heads must have belonged to the chiefs of the tribes. Through pain-staking research with laboratory rats and brownies packed with marijuana and microdots, I came to the conclusion that the largest cranial capacity were produced by higher THC consumption. The chiefs were in charge of peace and peace came in the form of a four-foot bowl of weed and peyote.

Look at a one dollar bill. George was a hemp lover and his noggin was gigantic.

This your brain:



This is your brain on drugs:



†scientific racism racist propaganda disguised as science.

CLIFFORD WORLEY(played by Dennis Hopper):So you’re a Sicilian, huh? You know I read a lot. Especially things that have to do with history. I find that shit fascinating. In fact, I don’t know if you know this or not, Sicilians were spawned by Gargemel the Wizard. It’s a fact. Sicilians have Smurf blood pumpin’ through their hearts. If you don’t believe me, look it up. You see, hundreds and hundreds of years ago the Moors conquered Sicily. And Moors are Smurfs. Way back then, Sicilians were like the wops in northern Italy. Blond hair, blue eyes. But, once the Moors moved in there, they changed the whole country. They did so much fuckin’ with the Sicilian women, they changed the blood-line for ever, from blond hair and blue eyes to white hats and blue skin. I find it absolutely amazing to think that to this day, hundreds of years later, Sicilians still carry that Smurf gene. I’m just quotin’ history. It’s a fact. It’s written. Your ancestors were Smurfs. Your great, great, great, great, great-grandmother was fucked by a Smurf, and had a half-Smurf kid. That is a fact. Now tell me, am I lyin’?”

Old steel mills in Pittsburgh are being fired up to melt beams from Oklahoma City’s Federal Building, wings from Pearl Harbor and salvaged pieces of the Lusitania.

The government is still trying to incorporate fragment’s of the Alamo, panel’s from Space Shuttle Columbia and wood from Custer’s Last Stand.

The Smithsonian donated the only surviving material from the Hindenburg to be woven into the original Iwo Jima flag which will be raised when it fires its cannons on “terror”.

Think I’m lying click here.

I graduated from Lee High School in San Antonio, TX.

Lee High School Alma Mater

We all hail† to thee and thy name forever,

Robert E. Lee High;

Your Red and Gray will always wave

As will your banner fly;

Our hearts and loyalty remain forever

In your hallowed halls;

Your majesty will show the way.

There are no other peers

Your fame and glory will not die.

Robert E. Lee throughout the years!

One hundred and twenty six years after the end of the Civil War. During my sophomore year our mascot was downgraded from ‘Rebel’ to ‘Volunteer’. However, the Confederate flag was still our official symbol. Painted and printed on every wall, poster, pom-pom, and on the faces of enthusiastic attendees of pep-rallies. We had three different dance teams: Rebel Rousers, Dixie Drillers, and Confederates. I even had a flag sewn on the front of my Speedos® blasted across my crotch for the swim team and another flag on my skin cap.

My senior year, a small faction of black football players refused to don their jerseys emblazoned with the “Bars and Stripes” on their chest. Other students rallied behind them. Our demographics were divided into four major ethnicities: 60% Hispanic, 29% White, 8% Black, 2% Asian, and Ninook Sealslayer the Eskimo (or Inuit for the PC-people).

The football players who came forward stated that opposing players from the west side all black high schools were hitting them harder and threatening their lives. They were even getting tackled when they were on defense without possession of the ball. Concerned for their safety, they refused to play again until the flag was removed from their uniform.

The Daughters of the Confederacy pleaded to the school board that the flag represented the tradition of the South and paid homage to a great man who attended West Point.

The KKK came and set up camp in the parking lot. Things got heated when they vandalized the church next door. They spray painted a cryptic message, ‘Nigers Go Home’. The church left it up to show their ignorance for the English language.

The students against the flag used the analogy comparing the Confederate flag to the Nazi flag.

They invented this scenario:

Imagine the school was named Erwin Rommel High School in honor of the distinguished German Field Marshal. The mascot was the Desert Fox and the school flag was the very recognizable, satanic red, black and white Nazi flag. Now imagine, you are young 15 year old Jewish boy named Ned Finklestein forced to play defensive end with a swastika on your chest. What do you think would happen to Ned?

First of all, fuck the Confederacy, fuck the KKK, and fuck Bobby Lee!

I can’t connect with this analogy. Jews aren’t renowned as football players. Football owners but not football players. Ned’s father would had made a few phone calls to the superintendent and the board of trustees and gotten the name changed. Done and done.

Perhaps, if they had invented Antonio López de Santa Anna High School and had me imagine how it would feel to be a 15 year old redneck named Tex Alamo with a Mexican flag on your jersey and you had to play against David Crockett High School.

Now that’s something I could imagine.

Jeez, that’s horrible.

If you don’t believe me?

Read a forum I created on MySpace with Robert E. Lee alumni about the “KKK Incident”

Click here

† I always felt comfortable “hailing” to a Confederate flag

Every time I perform in the South, somehow I manage to get surrounded by NASCAR fanatics meeting for the first time. Ritualistically, they start asking each other in a droning redneck mantra, “Who’s your favorite driver? Who’s your favorite dryy-ver? Who’s your favorite dryyy-ver?”

Then every goofball starts sounding off:

This is confusing because these quasi-homoerotic proclamations are always given by very “heterosexual” men who smell like WD-40, stale Budweiser, and campfire smoke.

There are millions of closeted NASCAR fans, trying to get out.

This is what they really are saying:

“Mark Martin’s my man, I used to like Kyle Petty but he wouldn’t shave his moustache and it kinda hurt when we kiss and stuff and Ernie Irvin broke my heart in 93’. That’s why I’m a Mark Martin Man, now! I tell you what boy, every time I see a Number Six, Viagra car, I get hard as a can of Copenhagen!”

This is my impression of a NASCAR fan in Ancient Greece:
“Who’s your favorite diety? Who’s your favorite dee-ahh-tee? Who’s your favorite dee-ahhh-tee?”