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It’s no secret at this point. Superheroes are real, and they’re everywhere. You may not have noticed, because the media does a pretty good job of keeping things quiet, but the stars of your favorite comic books aren’t made up, they are all portraits, (albeit, exaggerated ones), based on real people. It’s true.
Real people are getting into costumes to protect this planet, ladies and gentlemen, and I’m happy to say that it’s my job (for some reason) to find out their secret identities.
For my methods, I’ve tirelessly researched the histories behind 4 popular heroes and crosschecked some facts of their secret identities with well-known facts about public figures to come up with the likely candidates. Brace yourselves, sports fans, because I’m about to blow some of the most successful cover-ups in history wide open.

Captain America is one of the most respected heroes in the Marvel Universe. The result of a military program designed to build an army of Super Soldiers, Captain America isn’t so much a superhero as much as he is the strongest, fastest and most powerful human being around operating on levels just slightly higher than those of above average athletes. Fighting bravely in World War II, Steve Rogers’s triumphant success against foreign oppression established him as a beloved American icon.

The Lowdown:

The Real Captain America is a confident and powerful symbol of American Superiority with a remarkably strong chin…

Lance Armstrong

Named “Greatest Fucking Athlete” by every magazine that ranks athletes, Armstrong possesses both the physical strength and the ability to kick ass in foreign countries that Marvel’s Captain America practically bleeds. No, Lance Armstrong isn’t bitchslapping a bunch of Nazis, but he is making a whole lot of French people look stupid year after year after year, (they fucking love biking), which is just as good if not better.

A look at Armstrong’s physical attributes reads like the back of a Captain America Marvel Card, (if Captain America dated Sheryl Crow once). While the average human’s maximal oxygen consumption is between 40 and 50, Armstrong’s is 83.8 and his heart is about 30% larger than the average heart. He also has what Dr. Wikipedia describes as an unusually low lactate level. During intense training in racers, lactic acid builds up and slows a normal human down, but Armstrong’s body for some reason (magic?) doesn’t produce as much lactic acid as your average human. Without getting any more sciencey on anyone’s ass, Armstrong is, long story short, in better physical condition than you could ever dream of being. You might say, he’s performing at levels remarkably higher than those of the above average human. (Or you could skip the subtle innuendo and just say Lance Armstrong is Captain America. Lance Armstrong is Captain America.) And if you think Captain America wouldn’t approve of Lance Armstrong dominating the puny, harmless French well, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, allow me to present Exhibit Go Fuck Yourself:

The defense rests. Bitches.

Other Possibilities:

Arnold Schwarzenegger (Terrific shape, but disqualified for obvious reasons.)

The man under the Iron Man mask is the brilliant and mustachioed Tony Stark, a well-educated weapons designer with a fortune that Forbes puts somewhere in the “metric buttloads.” Stark uses his considerable wealth and highly-developed brain to constantly work on his iron suit, adapting it to fit any situation. While Iron Man is known for his support of justice and his hatred for communism and corporate crimes, Tony Stark is known for his support of drinking and touching hella boobies and his hatred for things that get in the way of either one.

The Lowdown:

The Real Iron Man has to be a brilliant and rich womanizer with a successful empire and an impeccable moustache…

Dov Charney
For those who don’t know, Dov Charney is the super rich, incredibly eccentric founder and CEO of American Apparel. (Granted, he designs clothing instead of missiles, but Marvel was most likely acutely aware of the fact that a comic about a witty, playboy polo-shirt-salesmen just wouldn’t sell.) When you ignore the difference between Stark’s weapons and Charney’s clothing, you’ll see just how staggering the similarities are. Both men are fast-paced entrepreneurs who built their empires from scratch and are notorious for their suave business savvy. Further, while Tony Stark took heat and received praise for refusing to sell weapons to terrorists, Charney received a similarly mixed reaction when he decided to pay his workers fair wages and by refusing to outsource. Two men, two successful businesses despite nontraditional practices, two facial-hair-champions.

Also, the womanizing. Iron Man comics are loaded with evidence of Stark’s shameless, near-constant boning of any woman who crosses his path, and Charney has had five sexual harassment lawsuits launched against him and once masturbated in front of an interviewer for Jane Magazine. It’s safe to assume that if masturbating in front of interviewers was permitted in Marvel Comics, Tony Stark would be the one guilty of it.

Other Possibilities:

Tom Selleck.

Bruce Wayne is a martial arts expert, and, while the exact amount of Wayne’s empire is rarely stated in either comics, movies or shows, a 2002 Forbes article estimates his net worth at $6.3 Billion. What also can’t be ignored is Batman’s trademark lunacy. Sure, he’s got pretty serious toys, but he’s also pretty seriously deranged so we’re looking for someone damaged.

The Lowdown:

The Real Batman has to be tough, wealthy and slightly crazy…

Christian Bale

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. No, it’s not just because Bale plays Batman on screen, and it’s not just because I happen to have a Texas-sized man-crush on him, (though, if you’re reading this Bale, I think you and I would make excellent friends and we should hang out or whatever). He actually almost didn’t make this list. Sure, he had a lot of the important qualities down- his status as a successful movie star provides him the wealth, he can kick some serious ass, and his well-documented activism is nothing if not reminiscent of Bruce Wayne’s celebrated philanthropy and generosity- but Bale just didn’t seem crazy enough to be Batman.
Until recently, that is. Yesterday, July 22nd, Christian Bale was taken into police custody on allegations that he attacked his sister and 61 year old mother. Now, what kind of man Is crazy enough to attack his own, aging mother? The same kind of man who’s crazy enough to put on little bat ears and beat the piss out of clowns, that’s what kind.

Other Possibilities:

Christian Bale.

The most popular hero in the Marvel catalogue, your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man can be seen swinging from building to building all throughout New York, (the rest of the world is not under his jurisdiction, which is really handy, because all of the world’s greatest villains focus 100% of their efforts on NYC). He’s short, agile and quick-witted, but he’s still generally hated by the people of New York.
Out of costume, Peter Parker is a whiny, shy, self-deprecating science nerd who generally just wants to be liked. He is, for the most part, awkward around girls but has remarkable luck with one insanely hot redhead, Mary Jane.

The Lowdown:

The Real Spider-Man has to be short, awkward and nerdy, but must also have an impossibly impressive track record for redheads way out of his league…

Dennis Kucinich

Former presidential hopeful Kucinich’s short stature and his elf-like agility make him the perfect fit for the webbed wall-crawler. Also, have you ever noticed that no one has ever seen Spider-Man and Kucinich in the same room? Beyond that, no one actually knows what Kucinich does or where he goes at night, (though, to be fair, he’s so damn creepy-looking that no one really wants to ask).

Above: A young Kucinich with Bugle employee Robbie Robertson.

His political career featured a strong focus on environmental renewal and clean energy, two causes that any self-respecting man of science would fight for. Further, his inability to carry a single state in the 2004 primary as well as the depressing failure that was his 2008 campaign, (MSNBC disinvited Kucinich from a presidential debate), prove that Kucinich is just as universally disliked as Spider-Man.

Also, there is absolutely no reason for the super fox that is Mrs. Kucinich to marry him apart from super powers. That’s just common sense.

Other Possibilities:

Daniel O’Brien.






There you have it, folks. I am hereby demanding that Lance Armstrong, Christian Bale, Dov Charney and Dennis Kucinich come out and formally admit their status as costumed superheroes.
America’s waiting, gentlemen.

Or put more generally, why do we have three different, completely incompatible video game consoles on the market right now, instead of multiple companies making video game consoles that play a single format? We have unified formats for CDs, DVDs and bananas, so why not video games?

Here’s an article that discusses rumors that Microsoft was considering licensing other manufacturers to make their own versions of the 360 prior to its launch. On the surface this doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. It’d remove the responsibility for manufacturing hardware from Microsoft’s sloped shoulders and birdlike arms - they’ve never really proven themselves adapt at the sort of heavy lifting that manufacturing requires. Third party Xbox’s could potentially be cheaper, and also, you know, work.

But for now it remains a rumor. Why have console manufacturers resisted licensing the manufacture of their consoles, and in general why haven’t we moved towards a single standard, like the DVD? As is generally the nature with rhetorical questions, I’ve already prepared some answers…

One, the inability to maintain control of the price of the hardware - particularly the ability to sell it at a loss. In the video game industry it’s fairly common for a manufacturer to sell their console at a loss for the first few years of production, a sacrifice they’re willing to make to build up market share. But there’s no way an external, licensed manufacturer would be willing to manufacture Xbox’s and price them so low that they’d be losing money. Both the CDi and 3DO were licensed to outside manufacturers, and high prices are one of the reasons they failed (they also weren’t much good at playing video games.) I guess this kind of scheme could work, if the licensing involved assorted payoffs and kick-backs from the licensor to the licensee in exchange for the licensor being able to set the price. Seems complicated though.

Two, video game content providers aren’t as powerful or concentrated as movie or music content providers. The vast majority of American films are owned by 6 companies. When they throw their support behind a single format, that format becomes the standard - this is exactly how the HD-DVD and Blu-Ray battle was settled. I imagine the same thing happens in the music industry, but with greasier people at the negotiating table. Video game publishing has grown more and more consolidated over the last decade, but it’s still nowhere near that level. No single console has been able to gain the overwhelming support of third parties since the NES.

Three, the pace of console development is a huge obstacle for any possible consolidation. The amount of negotiations, arm twisting, and legal kicks to the balls needed for hardware manufacturers to agree to a single standard is considerable, and can take years. For certain formats, that effort might be worth it. CD’s have been around and kicking for 25 years or so, and DVD’s for a dozen. But new console generations are separated by 5-6 years or so. To have to go through all that hassle every 5 years for the next generation of consoles? It might not be worth it. Now I wouldn’t complain if the pace of console replacement slowed down - I don’t think it’s terribly healthy for the industry. But it will take more than this whiny asshole to stop that particular trend.

I should point out that I’m no economics major (my university career was spent mostly learning then rapidly forgetting computer science) so I may be missing something here. What do the rest of you Monday Morning Console Quarterbacks think?

As I’ve told some of you in our sexy and private chats (meaning my Facebook status message) I’m not doing a Hate By Numbers this week. In its place is a golden oldie from a simpler time — five weeks ago. Watch Larry King (HBN’s Crown Prince) get to the bottom of an alien videotape controversy and/or not. Then read about why I’m not doing an HBN today after the jump!

But why no HBN this week? Well, there are many reasons. There are also many fake reasons. I’ve included both kinds below for you to sort out:

• I am in the middle of intense contractual negotiations and I’m withholding product in the hopes that Cracked caves to my one demand: scantily-clad, groupie assistants to work the camera and dust the green screen. (Frankly, I can’t believe they won’t give in here. I mean, I even left the definition of “scantily clad” way open — French Maid, Sexy Nurse, Vampiress. All good.)

• I’m scared of the vocal minority that insists I suck. I wake up with night terrors. And don’t get me started about the folks at Digg.com.

• I planned my week off with Dan O’Brien’s travel absence to bring the Cracked empire to its knees so we can launch our competing site: The Mace & Machete Comedy Show … .com.

• I am currently in talks with the Merchant/Ivory people to turn Hate By Numbers into a wartime romance set in the English countryside.

• Swaim offered me a role in Internet Party 3: Electric Booga-YouTube if I stop doing HBN. I think that’s a good deal, especially because he assures me Facebook girl thinks I’m dreamy.

• I’ve done it for 11 weeks straight, writing, delivering, and editing it myself, and I deserve a break.

Every day, frustrated people around the globe wonder via sarcastic t-shirt whatever happened to the future we were promised as children. A future in which everyone flies their hovercar to a four-hour workday at the cybermines, breaking off only to pop a protein pill and hop a transport tube to the exercise pods.

After all, the iPhone is kind of like a Star Trek communicator (especially this iPhone) and some of those giant glass underwater hotels they’re building in Dubai rival Heinlein on a good day. But what about the rest? Our jetpacks, robots and laser guns? Were they just sweet fiction, the hollow promises of a society longing for the comfort and freedom of a spandex unitard?

Sadly, no. The disappointing truth is that the futuristic devices we’ve demanded for so long are already here. Just different … and kind of shitty. It’s like when you order something at Denny’s based on the picture on the menu, but when the food comes out it looks like a pile of phlegm smothered in gravy. Behold: the future (in phlegm and gravy form)!

What We Were Promised: Forget gun control, bullets will be obsolete once we get our hands on an ion-spitting, atomic-powered, soul-searing plasma cannon. From Han Solo’s handy blaster to Kirk’s minimalist phaser (complete with multiple firing modes), the laser gun has become so intrinsic to our vision of the future that we created laser tag just so our children could train in their usage, in preparation for the inevitable laser wars of 2013. The ray gun is proof positive that while mankind may have enough collective imagination to envision a futuristic multi-verse where vast empires slug it out on the galactic scale, we aren’t quite up to imagining doing so with anything other than a good old-fashioned, pleasantly phallic six-gun in our hands.

As Seen In: Star Wars, Barbarella, Alien, Farscape, Dune, Doctor Who, anywhere lightsabers are unavailable.

The Pale Imitation: Scientists have actually made a pass at the ray gun. Only problem is it’s the kind of pass you used to make on essays about how you spent your summer vacation. Instead of a hand-sized blaster spitting ionized crimson death, the military has proudly unveiled an invisible sound wave that kind of burns and is the size of a truck. Here’s a video of a middle-aged “60 Minutes” reporter easily foiling it with a mattress.

Well, even if we can’t look forward to Star Wars-style laser battles, at least we can rest assured that our enemies, provided they don’t have any mattresses handy, will have to step literally several feet to the left in deference to our mighty future arsenal.

What We Were Promised: There’s nothing more passé than eating food. We’ve been doing it for thousands of years now, and it’s time to move on. Soon enough, the only people shoveling food into their mouths will be out-of-touch Neanderthals watching tumbleweeds roll by at the abandoned food court. Meanwhile, the rest of us will be popping protein pills by the handful, saving us enough time to read books describing how stuff used to taste back in the primitive days.

As Seen In: The Jetsons, Soylent Green, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

The Pale Imitation: Tiny cans of ass-flavored soda, nutrition bars that virtually demand to be eaten four at a sitting, and the addition of the word “energy” to the front of nearly every food product imaginable. And while the food is getting smaller, it’s a long way from pill size. In the meantime, instead of focusing on cramming all that goodness into a single dot, food companies have taken to making shitty-tasting versions of all their regular foods.

Energy cereal? Really? This distraction could prove fatal to the future of food pill technology. If we’re not careful, the trend towards down-sizing food could become totally derailed and end up with shelves full of energy-boosting hot dogs, memory-aiding muffins, and chicken breast that inoculates you against polio.

What We Were Promised: As early as 1900, man was envisioning a future in which all major cities were connected and traversed with smooth-moving, safe, and speedy robotic sidewalks or, failing that, at the very least some kind of city-wide vacuum tube that whipped civilians through the air to their destinations at staggering velocities (and yet, against all logic, never resulted in the splattering of the tube’s interior with the remains of a commuter who leaned a little too far to the left).

As Seen In: Metropolis, Caves of Steel, Minority Report, Futurama

The Pale Imitation: The Segway. It moves you around at about walking speed, and instead of costing the government billions of dollars to install moving sidewalk technology all across the country, it costs rich douchebags a few thousand dollars to graphically point out that they are, in fact, rich douchebags (who shop at The Sharper Image no less). And in case you can’t afford a Segway, or don’t want to be seen riding one, you can get a taste of the future at nearly any major airport. That 100-yard segment of moving sidewalk is just long enough to let you slip into a daydream about shuttling effortlessly from place to place, but not long enough to let you actually enjoy it.

Read the rest of this entry »

Are you tired of your awe-inspiring article, mind-shattering blog entry or rambling anti-government manifesto not getting the web traffic you know it deserves? Did you add a “Digg It” button to that brilliant epic poem you wrote about your recently-deceased cat, Twinkie, but nobody seems to be clicking it? Are you starting to suspect that MS Paint drawing of Draculanana might not be funny enough to make it to the front page of Digg after all?

Think again.

Digg, Reddit and all the other so-called “social media” sites can be a great way to get your message out to millions of people, but with so many voices out there screaming for attention it’s hard to be heard sometimes–even if that 400,000-word poem about your dead cat is totally mind-blowingly awesome. But don’t worry–in my time writing for Cracked.com I’ve picked up a few useful tricks that might help you on your quest for Digg greatness. With a little luck you might just find yourself on the front page, where people will then proceed to argue about whether you’re gay, retarded or a gay retard. Here’s how it’s done.

Let’s say you wrote an epic poem about your recently-deceased cat, Twinkie. That’s not exactly the kind of thing that’s going to shoot to the top of Digg’s front page on its own, but you’d be surprised how far a little cash can go toward helping your Digg conquest succeed. (Just use the money you were going to spend on cat food–your dead cat isn’t hungry anymore.)

Let’s frame the question another way: would you think a blog featuring nothing but pictures of crowds could end up on the front page of Digg? How many people would Digg something like that? As Wired contributor Annalee Newitz found out last year, the answer turned out to be 342. How, you ask? By paying $1 per Digg to a website called usersubmitter.com for an early push toward the front page. True, the story was eventually buried (because it was UNBELIEVABLY BORING), but if you want to enjoy a brief stint in the limelight, buying some votes might not be a bad way to go.

If you’re Heath Ledger, Steve Irwin or Saddam Hussein, then congratulations–your death made the front page of Digg! That’s all well and good for dead celebrities, but what if you’re not a famous actor, crocodile hunter or dictator? What about YOU, the alive-and-well administrative assistant with an incredible epic poem about your recently-deceased cat, Twinkie?

Unfortunately, this particular strategy probably won’t do much for you in the short-term. Consider quitting your job and moving to Los Angeles to pursue a career in acting, or, if that doesn’t work out, try becoming a famous crocodile handler or the leader of an oppressive Middle Eastern regime. Once you accomplish one of these goals, die. It might not be what you had in mind careerwise, but hey–at least you’ll be on the front page of Digg, right?

Top 100 Diggers wield enormous power over what gets to the homepage, so much so that Digg removed the page that used to list them to stop people from trying to game the system. (Don’t worry–the list is still available at the third-party site DiggAnalytics.com.) Given their huge status on the site and the influence they have over what becomes popular (97 percent of the things that Kevin Rose has Dugg in the past have ended up becoming popular), it would be wise to try to use these top Diggers to your advantage.

In other words, you should kidnap Kevin Rose and force him to Digg your articles.

If you’re not the criminal type, consider trying to befriend him. Send him an email complimenting his hair and entrepreneurial spirit. Quickly follow up with another one asking if he’d like to go out for dinner, then another asking why he isn’t returning your emails. (The last one should be peppered with profanity, like “fuck” and “doodie.”) You might want to prepare all the emails in advance and fire them off in rapid succession, as this will increase the likelihood that he will become your friend and make you famous on Digg.

If that doesn’t work, and you’re absolutely positive that you don’t want to kidnap anyone, just put his name in the title of your post. Why not? It worked for these guys.

With highfalutin terms like “social media” and “news aggregation” floating around, it’s easy to lose sight of what Digg actually is. It might seem complicated, but at the end of the day, Digg is all about the people who use it. And like most people, the average Digg user LOVES to read about himself … or herself, I guess, but c’mon–Digg’s audience is 94 percent male. I think this banner ad for an upcoming Digg meetup pretty much says it all:

But I digress. The point is this: If you’re trying to claw your way to the top of the Digg pile, there’s no better tried-and-true approach than writing something ABOUT DIGG ITSELF. (For example, you could write an article about how to get articles on the front page of Digg.) Even if you’re not writing something about Digg, you might as well throw the word “Digg” in the title somewhere. Let’s take a look at two different ways of presenting an article:

BAD HEADLINE:

GOOD HEADLINE:

See the difference? Come to think of it, that headline gives me an idea …

I remembering coming across a mysterious article a while back about a strange series of letters and numbers: 09-f9-11-02-9d-something-something. I don’t remember exactly what it was, nor do I remember being all that impressed by that specific combination of letters and numbers, but that’s not important. The important part is that the article specifically instructed me to Digg it, and so I did. Apparently this strategy works–that random string of letters and numbers received over 49,000 Diggs.

As a biological rule of thumb, human beings hate ambiguity. If a person is running at us with a bloody axe, we want to know if that person is an axe murderer, a lumberjack who has been involved in a terrible accident of some sort, or if it’s just Halloween and we’re freaking out for no reason. If the ice cream man asks us if we want to come for a ride in his truck, we want to know if we’re going to be raped and murdered and stuffed in a freezer, or raped and murdered and stuffed in a freezer after eating tons of free ice cream. And if we see an article on Digg, we want to know whether we should click “Digg It” or not, ideally without actually having to read the article.

Digg users are busy people–do you really expect them to sit there and read all that stuff? If your article is worth Digging, cut the bullshit and say so in the headline. Trust me: the community will thank you for it.

If you’ve tried all of the above and you’re still not getting anywhere, wow–you’re really terrible at this. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and let’s face it: you’re desperate. You know that can of Lightning Bolt you’ve been saving for an emergency? This is it. Crack that sucker open–looks like you’re pulling an all-nighter.

When all else fails, you can always fall back on statistics. Here’s a doozy for you: Every time you mention Civil Liberties being trampled in some way, the number of Diggs you will receive increases tenfold. Try incorporating that theme into your article if possible, even if it has little or nothing to do with it. Your cat died and you wrote a 400,000-word poem about him? Who’s to say that GEORGE W. BUSH didn’t kill him? You posted a blog entry about how to bake delicious blueberry muffins? Well if the muffins are so delicious, then why is THE GOVERNMENT TRYING TO SILENCE YOU? Your dad blocked your BitTorrent? Don’t you mean COMCAST did it?

Whatever you’re writing, just keep telling yourself that the government doesn’t want people to know about it. Sink into your paranoia like it’s a hot bath, and be ready to accuse anyone and anything of attempting to “censor” you. Claim to have been tased, say you’re a Scientologist and take down your own post, then write passionate diatribes on two different blogs arguing back and forth over the latest Apple product. It might seem silly while you’re doing it, but trust me: Hot button issues like these pay serious dividends on Digg. Why not cash in?

What can I say? They’re just kind of good at it, I guess. Is it the subject matter, or the wit of the writers, perhaps? Maybe it’s how they turn everything into lists, or the way they lay out their articles across multiple pages? From what I can tell, everyone really seems to really love that. I don’t know what it is exactly, but one thing is for sure: Being Cracked.com certainly seems to increase the likelihood you’ll get to the front page of Digg.

Unless … you know … they bury you.

Continuing the grand, almost two week old tradition of inventing interesting facts about whichever country is a year older that particular day, to celebrate Bastille Day, here are several interesting facts about France that you will be shocked to find out are all true, providing you agree to do no research on the subject yourself. And be sure to check back in a couple weeks time for our salute to Turkmenistan’s Melon Day.

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1) Inventions: France is the birthplace of the Tour de France.

2) Cooking: French cooking is known for being exceedingly old fashioned, and makes little use of modern super-ingredients like Ms. Dash or Chipotle Mayo.

3) Relations to the English: Across the ages, the French have fought the English, ruled the English, forgot about the English, fought more with the English, and finally ended up as close friends with the English. If you’ll allow me to use a neo-neo-neo-classical allegory, they are the Ross and Rachel of Europe. (The English are Ross.)

4) Headwear: The beret was invented in the 1880’s by a Frenchman to keep his head warm while he was riding his bicycle and wearing a stripey shirt. For this reason in American culture the beret is regarded warily - it also forever being attached to that one Prince song (I Would Die 4 U) and for those 4 months when Samuel L. Jackson was into them. But also recall that berets are worn in great numbers by military men, which as a rule, are a group that doesn’t take much shit from Cracked bloggers. So as I was saying, berets are fine hats.

5) Military History: In popular culture, the French military is widely remembered as getting beaten like a red-headed stepchild in two out of two World Wars. But that’s being a little unfair to France, because anyone that spawns that close to the Germans twice in a row is a bit unlucky.

6) Not theirs: Jean Claude Van Damme is not French, and is not their responsibility.

7) Relations to America: As most people understand it, the American Revolution was won when British General Reginald Fancydan was killed on top of Mount Rushmore by Mel Gibson and a Harley motorcycle. However, this ignores the contributions of the French, who supported the Americans during the Revolutionary War. In fact, the final act of the war occurred when the French built the Statue of Liberty, delivered it to the gates of America and tricked the British into taking it inside, at which point the French troops concealed within poured out and won America. If you go to Ellis island today, be sure to find the commemorative plaque reading “To the Lady that had One Hundred and Fifty Frenchmen up in her: Our Nation is Forever Grateful.” I’m told it’s hard to find.

8 ) Wine: The French didn’t invent wine - that probably happened one night thousands of years earlier in a cave when an idiot ate some old stepped on grapes, got into two fist fights, then declared he “could fuck up a leopard.” (Karaoke was invented in similar circumstances later that week.) But in present times, the French are definitely known for both the quality of their wine, and their liberal attitudes towards it’s consumption, as evidenced by their national motto: “Liberté, Equalité, Fraternité” (loosely: “Let’s drink wine right now brothers.”)

9) Work Life: The French have a legendarily short work week, with the average Frenchman working only 35 hours a week. On top of that is the 6-8 weeks of vacation they get every year. And when you add on the 14 national holidays and two weeks of mandatory annual labor unrest, the typical Frenchman works 23 minutes each year. This is why the phrase “Industrious as a Frenchman” has fallen out of common usage.

10) Metric System: France is the birthplace of the Metric system, which unlike the French, actually works.

11) Iraq: France famously opposed the 2003 Iraq War, because in their words “Iraq? What are you crazy?”

12) Nuclear Power: France has invested hugely in nuclear power, both for civilian energy production and in terms of military weapons. With over 300 warheads, France is the world’s third largest nuclear power, a stunning fact when you consider that they still don’t get respect from anyone.

13) Ancestors: The ancestors of the French were the Gauls, most famously depicted in the pages of the Asterix comic books. These comics told the story of a group of friendly and cheerful Gauls who got into all sorts of hilarious mishaps, and used the powers of homemade amphetamines to viciously brutalize any approaching Italians. These comics are very popular in France.

14) Eiffel Tower: The Eiffel Tower is probably the most famous symbol of France, and was originally constructed in 1889 to give a jump start to the French postcard industry.

15) Mascot: The national mascot of France is the skunk, to honor the annual French pastime of finding a cat that accidently got a white stripe painted on its back and then trying to have sex with it.

16) Architecture: In the 17th century, the French King Louis XIV (pronounced “chiv”) commissioned the building of Versailles, an enormous complex of mansions and parks, and probably the most opulent place ever conceived. Seriously, it makes whatever Puff Daddy is living in these days look like a place ducks go to shit.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I wrote the following while battling a nasty ass flu. It’s all just random thoughts. I make no apologies. Actually, one apology. I’ve seen the script to Swaim’s Internet Party 3 and on behalf of Cracked I’d like to offer my deepest apologies.

So I gotta tell you. This Hate By Numbers took a lot out of me. As you’ll see it’s more involved than any I’ve done previously. And now I’m tired. And I’m sick. I was suppose to go to New Jersey and help DOB pack, but I called him last night to let him know I was too ill for the journey. (Also, the only reason I offered to help in the first place was to sneak a pound of coke into his luggage so he’d be detained at the airport. But then I learned he was driving so…)

Anyway, I’m on my couch now, battling a cold, feeling like complete ass and wondering if i have anything amusing to say. Not really wondering. My throat is on fire. I have nothing amusing to say. Unless, you count me wishing that Wolinsky had this sore throat instead of me, but that’s not that funny. Well, if you picture his beard it’s a little amusing.

What else can I tell you? Oh yeah, THE THEME SONG OF HATE BY NUMBERS IS THE NIGHT BY MORPHINE. EVERYONE GET THAT?

What else? Oh, why do I respond to criticism? Several of you have asked me that. Good question. The answer: Because I’m a jackass. I’m the guy who gets pissed off by lots of stuff and categorizes it by number. Am i supposed to have the maturity to ignore trolls who attack me directly? Well, in any event, believe it or not. I’m getting better. And what can I say? I’m a chatty Cathy, and I enjoy the interaction with most.

What else? OH! Danny Gallagher, who used to write a bunch of stuff for The Week in Douchebaggery, found the clip I used for HBN this week. Thanks Danny. Oh, and I ripped a joke off from Matt Tobey who made a funny quip to me while I was explaining the premise to him. (Which joke? Whichever one you dislike. I only wrote the best ones.) Oh, and then there’s Dennis DiClaudio! He had absolutely nothing to do with this post, but he did hold my hand and tell me I’m pretty the night I stayed up crying til 3 in the morning after 300 diggers were just oh so mean to me.

As long as I’m delirious and going through my lists, I should also mention Jack O’Brien and David Wong. Both have been really supportive of the show and filled with sage advice. Indeed, over the last several years, during Jack’s brief bouts of sobriety and clarity, he’s been really supportive of me in general. But for one shockingly insane moment when he passed up the opportunity to feature my Radiohead video, he’s just been wonderful.

Oh, and as long as I’m thanking people. A big thank you to my neighbors, the Archers, for letting me traumatize their boy in this clip.

And lastly, a big thank you to those HBN boosters. I don’t want to embarrass any readers by naming names, but biggirl4love and sexybigbeauties, your support has been truly breathtaking. I just hope you continue to find my comedy so manful.

What else? What else? Hmmmmm… OH!!! VIEWER ADVISORY ABOUT THIS CLIP: It features the worst haircut I have received since the 90s. It’s truly frightening. And I apologize. I started to grow a beard as a distraction, but I shaved it.

Okay. I think that’s it. I need to go cry now. Ouch.

As you may have heard, it was announced recently that Sacha Baron Cohen and Will Ferrell will star as Sherlock Holmes and Watson in Judd Apatow’s zany Sherlock Holmes comedy due out later next year. Even more recently, it was announced that Robert Downey Jr. will be starring in a second, competing Sherlock Holmes set for a 2009 release. Guy Ritchie will be directing this Sherlock Holmes, so it should be fast-paced, gritty and completely unintelligible like most of Ritchie’s movies, or totally shitty, like his other ones.

Since Hollywood is a jealous, insecure, impulsive bitch, five additional Sherlock Holmes movies were announced, cast and shot within 24 hours of the announcement of Ritchie’s Holmes. Yep. Worrying that Apatow and Ritchie knew something that they didn’t, (how could they possibly?) five of the industry’s most talented directors slapped together their own Sherlock Holmeses and, because I love you, I went out and watched every single one of these movies and my reviews are included below.

Martin Scorsese’s Sherlock Holmes

At least one Rolling Stones song, guaranteed.

Something is rotten in the NYPD, and it’s up to convict-turned-cop Tommy Stinson, (DiCaprio) to clear his name before detective-turned-convict Mike Caruso, (Ray Liotta) either blows the case wide open or opens up a lucrative casino, run by corrupt police chief Sgt. Brugnola, (sometimes Nicholson, sometimes DeNiro). Not one of the characters is actually named Sherlock Holmes and it’s unclear whether or not Scorsese even wants us to watch this movie.

Spike Lee’s Sherlock, Homez!

Denzel Washington stars as Sherlock, (no last name given), in this gritty, racially-charged adaptation (?) of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s classic novels. Set in 1970’s Harlem, Spike Lee spends almost three hours reminding the world that white people and black people are very different. No mysteries are presented or solved.

Guillermo Del Toro’s Sherlock Holmes and his Horrifying Gang of Mutants

We think the fish-monster with a pipe for a face is supposed to be Sherlock. Visually stunning, but who knows what the fuck is going on.

Tim Burton’s Sherlock Holmes

The only film on the list that is actually set in London, (probably just a coincidence), Burton’s Sherlock Holmes follows the eccentric and unconventional detective, (Depp), and his loyal assistant Watson, (Depp), as they try to track down a quirky and eccentric master thief in a funny wig (Depp). Terrifying music by Danny Elfman. Helena Bonham Carter is also probably in it, (Depp).

Surecock Holmes [Adult]

A brilliant detective and his young, enthusiastic assistant Hotson wander around and attempt to solve a delicious mystery the old fashioned way, (delivering pizza and performing the reverse cowgirl on large-breasted, sexually-unfulfilled stay-at-home Moms). The pair of detectives have some questionable methods of investigation, (when their chief suspect refuses to cooperate, they double-team her in a shower and leave, despite the fact that they didn’t obtain any new information), but when there’s not boning on screen, Surecock Holmes is surprisingly the most faithful adaptation of the source material on this entire list.

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. See you next year when Steven Spielberg, Oliver Stone, Ang Lee and McG decide to simultaneously put out shitty adaptations of The Snorks.

A bonus, unrelated-to-this-particular-article Note!

Folks, the rumors you’ve heard are true: After a couple of really great decades, I’m leaving the East Coast. I hereby resign as the EC’s unofficial Mayor and pass all of my mayoral duties on to this guy Joe I know, (you’ll like him). So, next week, my brother and I will be driving across country and relocating to Los Angeles. [The official press release regarding the relocation has been reprinted below.] Maybe it’s because of the beaches. Or maybe it’s because, once I found out Swaim was living there, I figured “Hell, anyone can do it.” Or maybe it’s just because I heard that California’s a little bit cooler about that whole Megan’s Law thing. Whatever the reason, I’ll officially be one of those smug, LA assholes by this time next week; Sipping martini’s, sniffing coketini’s, and boning chicktini’s like there’s no tomorrowtini.

What does this all mean for you, my beautiful, delicious children? It means that I won’t be posting my column next week as I will be smack dab in the middle of my cross country trek, and for that I sincerely apologize. I know how you folks crave my warm, comforting jokes and my dangerous obsession with young Hollywood starlets, but even if I do get to California in time, I will undoubtedly be either watching The Dark Knight or seeing if I can buy some of this crack I’ve heard so much about. (Is it anything like jalapeno poppers? Because I love jalapeno poppers.)

If you find yourself itching, twitching and jonesing for a comedy fix, (like some kind of deranged jalapeno popper addict), I encourage you to check out my ridiculous book, (it’s free). Or, check out Gladstone’s book, (it isn’t). OR, check out these tasteful nude photographs of Chris Bucholz that Annie Leibowitz took. If you haven’t already figured out that all of those links take you directly to my book, please click here and I’ll clear everything up.

Don’t worry, friends. This isn’t “Goodbye,” it’s just “Fuck off, for a little while.”

Guillermo, I’ve never questioned you in the past. When you optioned Hellboy, I was like “yeah, duh, he’s the goddamned devil.”

When you and I got sloshed over a pitcher of sangria and you said you just had to make a movie with a guy who had eyes on his hands, I was like “whatever floats your boat, dude.”

But as your friend and paid life coach, I’ve got to tell you, your recent proclamation that extra roles in The Hobbit films will be filled by fans of the movies may be the worst idea anyone’s ever had.

And to prove it to you, I invented time travel, went into the future, and brought back a review of the movie. Yes, that’s what a good fucking friend I am.

Then I destroyed the time travel device. Why? Because it’s function had been served. So take heed, Lermo. THIS is where you’re headed if you don’t wise up.

The first of two proposed movies based on Tolkien’s The Hobbit was released this week, and by now it’s a fair assumption that Director Guillermo Del Toro has fled to Spain to escape the bloodthirsty mobs that roam the streets, calling for his blood. All this reviewer can say to those who would kill the man simply for making such an awful movie is: I own a boat.

What makes The Hobbit so uniquely terrible? Perhaps it is that it defames such a beloved work of literature. When a scene as classic as the Elven picnic is interrupted by the background elves continuously jostling one another in order to get close enough to steal pieces of Lembas bread, your movie’s in trouble.

I’d warn of spoilers, but it seems to me that one can’t really spoil a big plate of shit. In Part I of The Hobbit, the “acting” work, almost exclusively in group scenes, contains a number of filmic atrocities the likes of which I’ve never witnessed. Rampant, unjustified departures from the original story included:

In the end, Mr. Del Toro appears to have had so little control over his set, one wonders if he’s ever even heard of poisonous gas.

The Hobbit? More like The Bobbitt. By which I mean this film was so bad that it cut my dick off and flung it into the street.

In a parallel timestream, Michael is still head writer and co-founder of Those Aren’t Muskets!

When I grow up, I want to be a movie actor. I know that a lot of kids say that, but I know that I will succeed, because I am not unrealistic about it like Tiffany, who says she wants to be as famous as Madonna. I don’t think Madonna’s even going to be famous that much longer anyway; not after that naughty Sex book my Dad bought and hides under his mattress.

The reason I think I can be an actor is because I have normal expectations. I don’t want to be a big dramatic actor, or even a big action star. All I want is to be that guy that people know his face, and some people know his name, but most people just go “oh, yeah, that guy.” This is my dream.

And instead of being in any serious movies, I just want to be in the kinds of movies that parents take their kids to the matinées of because they think it will be fun and have some action, but not be too violent. Like movies where there is some punching, but not lots, and all the shooting misses.

I would like to fight Mummies. In real life, but if that is not possible, at least in a movie.

Mummies are not that scary; they move slow and they are wrapped in toilet paper. So as an actor in the movie I could make a lot of jokes like “boy, you are slow,” and “you know what else is in toilet paper?” But then before I could say “poop” the ground would break or something and I’d fall and yell real goofy. The kids would like that, because it’s goofy, and the parents could laugh because they knew I was talking about poop.

Maybe Disney could produce my action movies. I think that would make sure my head never got too big, or I got to thinking I was a real movie hero. I just want to be regular. Instead of going to bars and clubs in Hollywood, I will go to the Applebee’s in Long Beach. And when I date ladies, they will be pretty, but not so pretty that the media makes a name out of both of our names to represent the couple.

In my movies, I will always have kids with me. That will keep me from swears. Also in my movies, I will always dress kind of the same: a khaki vest and stuff like Indiana Jones, but not as nice. That way, people will remember that I was in other movies that they saw.

When I do interviews, I will seem like I am not having a very good time, but just saying what the interviewer wants to hear. This will make me seem like I am smarter and more talented than the movies I am in, but that I just never get a fair shot. That way no one will really know how good I am (which is just okay). This will work at first, until later in my career when my interviews will just be painful to watch.

In my movies, the final answer to the riddle will always be friendship. This will teach families that friendship is the best thing.

Other best things I would like in my movies:

I think these things will make enough good movies that people will like me, but enough really bad movies that no one will really like me. That way, I can be nice to my fans that speak to me on the street, because I will be lonely.

After a long time, I will take a break from making these movies, because I may be sad that everyone always sees me and says “yeah, that guy. I kind of like him.” I will do some TV show appearances and maybe a dramatic art film where I am gay. This will surprise everyone, and prove that I have acting skill, because in real life I am not gay. Or am I? No one will care enough to find out.

But after a few years, I want to then go back to movies. I don’t think I will be able to be in great scripts, because I will already be known as the guy that does okay family action movies, and no studios will want to take a chance on me as a big star. But to make my comeback big, I will have to do something interesting, like maybe making TWO movies instead of one like usual.

Maybe one will be in 3-D. That will make people kind of like me even more than they did before.

And at the movie premieres I will wear suits that are nice, but not too nice, and only a few cameras will be there. But still, I will smile, because deep inside I will know that all along, this was my dream.

When not being prescient, Brendan Fraser has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with sketch comedy troupe Those Aren’t Muskets!