I’m pretty sure we’ve all had one of those moments when we’re stuck in traffic, or watching our house burn down, or crying on the toilet, and we think, “Someone needs to invent a thing that prevents this,” and then of course you never do so yourself, because you have no idea how it would work — you just know it needs to exist. Well, I live my life like that too, and I have a short list of items that need to exist. If someone could please get on these and maybe send me some samples, that’d be swell.
#5. A Poop Coolant
Right next to my computer, I have a small envelope that arrived about a month ago. In the envelope is a simple zipper-sealed plastic bag, and in that bag are five thumbnail-sized, shriveled-up Carolina Reaper peppers, alleged to be the hottest peppers on Earth. I ordered them from a website in preparation for an article I may or may not ever write.
If I ever eat this, you can expect to read my 2,300-word column
that’s just “WHYYYYYYY?” over and over.
Part of me knows if I eat one of those peppers and record the result, many a laugh will be had at my discomfort. Human suffering is genuinely amusing when it’s the sort of suffering someone brings on themselves and is mostly cartoonish in nature. Wouldn’t you like to see me eat an outrageously hot pepper and then writhe in agony? Of course you would. But I have trepidation. Not for the first round of pain; that’s to be expected, as my insides knot in fiery torment and panic-sweats blind me while I blubber like a guppy desperate to find a puddle. No, it’s what’s coming a few hours down the road.
In lieu of bathroom reading material, bring along a priest
to read you your last rites.
It’s 2016 — we have scientists working on things like space elevators and cloning individual human organs and performing face transplants, and yet no one has managed to find a way to eliminate the fire squirts? There’s a whole cottage industry out there for spicy foods and sauces; people love seeing how much they can tolerate, but none of us enjoy the devastating aftermath of literal asshole burning. Is there no pill that a human can take to help absorb the capsaicin they’ve consumed? No medicine we can take a spoonful of to ensure that the hot sauce we’re only supposed to open with welder’s gloves will ease on out, like soft ice cream from Dairy Queen?
I’m convinced NASA could figure this out if they tried; it’s just that our priorities are in the wrong place these days. Mars missions to save Matt Damon? Come on.
#4. The Vag Glove
I don’t mean to sound crass, but I know quite a bit about jackin’. I’ve dabbled in the odd sex toy article and store in my day, and if there’s one thing I know, it’s that things that assist you in jackin’ it are really popular. Look how popular Fleshlights are. But here’s the thing — no one has ever been fooled by that fake Fleshlight holder. For starters, it’s made with the same quality plastic as a laundry hamper from the dollar store — no one makes flashlights out of that shit. And it’s also the size of a little person’s leg — what kind of cave-spelunking flashlight are you carrying around in your luggage?
Though it’s still the most fun flashlight to use when the power goes out.
The idea behind the Fleshlight was a good one: Let’s improve wanking. You can’t be down on that. But why a flashlight? Is fucking a flashlight normal somewhere? I certainly hope not. This is like making camouflage out of a repeating burger pattern, on the off chance you need to hide out in a McDonald’s dumpster.
Basically, I’m saying the Fleshlight adds a needless dimension to your wankery. Why not strip away the illumination and just put that rubbery, texturized inside on a glove? Then you just have a masturbation glove that, for all anyone cares, looks like a rubber glove. If anyone asks, it’s for gardening or some B.S., but you and I will know the only crops you’ll be tending are wang root and squirt apples. By the way, “squirt apple” is officially my 1,000th euphemism on Cracked, and the shittiest one I’ve ever made. I’m getting a gold pen from management!
#3. A Sarcasm Font
My god, would this idea make a fortune. Not just among writers on this site but for pretty much anyone with enough brain power to be able to put into words why Donald Trump shouldn’t qualify as human, let alone president.
If we ever elect this, you can expect to read Adam Tod Brown’s 2,300-word column
that’s just “I FUCKING WARNED YOU!” over and over.
Sarcasm was likely the first victim of the Internet, and every day it rises anew and gets slaughtered by people who lose it somewhere in those pipes that Twitter lives in, like humorless Morlocks. Now, really sweet, quality satire should have that crisp delightfulness that goes over some people’s heads, so every other smug shit who got it can curl their lip just so as they enjoy their brandy with a titter of laughter since they’re in on the joke. But that’s like Swift-quality satire, and no one but The Onion does that anymore. Everyday sarcasm needs a hero. It needs a font.
But not Wingdings. Wingdings are already the font of assholes.
Far too often in online conversation, you’re enjoying a little informal correspondence, maybe saying things like “brb” and “dtf” to your friends and co-workers and, out of the blue, someone says, “Go fuck yourself.” And in their mind, it was a hilariously good-natured ribbing, said with a laugh. But on your end, it was an unbidden attack that you have no intentions of forgiving and, in fact, will be the catalyst for a lifelong war waged by a single side against an ignorant and ill-prepared army that will be destroyed utterly thanks to its lack of understanding. You will ruin every relationship, job, and even the furniture of that person for the rest of their natural lives, constantly unzipping their couch cushions and literally shitting inside of them when you’re left alone in the room, such that your one-time friend never understands where that terrible smell is coming from, all for the want of a sarcasm font.
Oh, you’re sad I ruined your grave and skull-fucked your corpse?
Should’ve been nicer that one day.
Of course, implementing such a thing now will be difficult. If back when typewriters were invented, some German lexicographer was all, “This is called Comic Sans; use it only when you’re being a dick to someone,” we’d all know Comic Sans was a joke when we saw it today. But changing people’s opinions now and getting them on board will be hard — whatever font you choose instantly becomes Esperanto. You can say it’s universal all you like; it doesn’t mean anyone is ever going to use it. Still, it’s worth a try. For the good of us all!