When I originally told people I was going to Bonnaroo, they basically responded in three different ways:
1) “That’s really cool!”
2) “Bonna-WHO!?”
3) “Who are you and why are you telling me this? Please move over and take your hand off my leg.” View full article »
I could start off this story with clever and witty anecdotes regarding background information. But, the problem is there really aren’t any. Fatty (Mike Mirdita) was a friend of ours and that’s basically it. Before you label me anti-obesity, first know that he made up his own nickname. It was 7th grade and a day like every other out on the blacktop during recess. The jocks were playing prison rules against the nerds in basketball and somewhere a tennis ball was lost on the roof after someone swore “of course I could hit that green colored brick, douchebag. I bet your parents 69!” Classic. I wouldn’t really say that story was clever or witty. Like I said, it was a day like every other. The jocks had gotten in trouble for most likely breaking another pair of glasses/dignity on a nerds face when the assistant principle made a speech about behavior. He then turned to our friend, an overweight kid who collected basketball cards and thought homework was how hard he could try at getting a high score in Tony Hawk Pro Skater 2, and said “You guys should act like Mike over here. This is a model kid.” Mike then turned to us, snickered, and said “Yeah. Act more like this fatty. Ha!” and proceeded to point to himself and then turning it into a thumbs up. Excellent. Now we could call him Fatty for all eternity and not feel bad about it. Things were looking good. At least for all eternity.
Two years later, Fatty was still a good friend of ours and we had decided that he should be a permanent member of our gang of friends that we cleverly labeled “The Gang.” At the end of the previous year, we had found someone’s lost science text book and decided it would be funny to throw it into a body of water (sorry Valentina Dedvukaj). We later routinely joked around with such amazing inside jokes as “Remember that time we threw that text book into a body of water? LOLOLOL!” among others. As the year went on we bombarded Fatty with weekly quizzes on the phone where we’d ask him such questions as “what year did World Ward III end and how did President Howard Stern get Japan to sign a treaty?” and basic math that a Special Olympian could figure out…possibly. The Fatty Tests came to a all time high when we gave him one during lunch and he walked out of the cafeteria in a fit of rage. We had cracked up after we gave him the question of 9 to the second power and he thought out loud, “9 to the second tower. Hmmm…” As if those tests weren’t enough, we decided that we wanted to really get him back for being a good friend. We wanted to play a trick on him that he’d never forget.
We called a Gang meeting and decided that Fatty got the most joy in his life from throwing the girl with the foreign sounding name’s textbook into water, so now we would turn the tables. When he wasn’t looking (or maybe when he was looking right at us. I can’t remember) we stole his Spanish Level 1 textbook. With help from our fellow teacher friend Mr.Egan, we received a new protective book cover and ripped the old one off. We then doodled pictures and wrote curse words on random pages like any kids normal textbook would have. To top it off, we wrote the name FRANK PIERCE inside to specify who fake owned the book. Fatty would never know that Franklin Pierce was the 14th President of the United States. We didn’t think Fatty knew the names of too many people that weren’t on X-Box live.
President Franklin Pierce senior photo. College or bust!
The next day, as enthusiastic as ever, we showed Fatty the lost textbook we had found and giggled like madmen. I could see the gleam of his eyes; he was ready to destroy it. We made a plan to wreak havoc with the text book that upcoming Friday when we walked back to my house. The days leading up to Friday were almost too much to take for The Gang. We waited impatiently and the classes in school seemed to take forever. But, sure enough, Friday came. We crossed Route 202 and made the trek up the hill on Waverly Road towards my house. Halfway between school and my house, you’d reach a bend in the road and if you walked just a few feet off the street you would come to a river that after a good rain fall would be quite treacherous…for text books. I took the text book out of my bag and handed it to Fatty to do the honors. As excited as a fat kid who was just told he was allowed to eat all the skin off the Turkey before dinner, he grabbed the book out of my hands. He then proceeded to take a lighter out his book bag. Sure enough, Fatty stood on a hill about 10 feet over the raging river, and lit his own textbook on fire. With a maniacal and fat laugh, the book eventually was engulfed in flames. To really put the stake in the heart of Frank Pierce, Fatty threw the textbook into the river. His sugar coated teeth (probably from too many Sour Patch Kids) made his smile shine bright as the text book washed away…sadly to never be seen again. After a round of high fives to last a lifetime, we started to walk back to my house.
At the end of the year, Fatty eventually found out it was his text book he had massacred He found out once he tried looking for it to return to the teacher and we all almost had heart attacks due to laughter. But, for this walk home from the river that day, Fatty was still as clueless as Alicia Silverstone. He raised his flabby arms in the air for victory and said, “I can not WAIT to see the look on Frank Pierce’s face on Monday when he finds out what happened to his book!” It was almost enough for me to shed a tear. I honestly did feel a little bit bad. Once we reached my house he made all of us eggs for some reason and I didn’t feel too bad anymore. That’ll do Fatty, that’ll do.
Dan: u know whats nuts
Dan: u ever see the show get smart
Me: yeah
Dan: i nver saw it acutaly i clip of it but the u konw the detective
Me: yeah sure
Dan: he is my profesor
Me: whoa whoa
Dan: crazy rigth he teaches environmetnal someting
Me: Don Adams?
Dan: like he is crazy and he is so funny
Dan: yea
Me: what the…
Dan: he is so old
Me: he was also the voice of INSPECTOR GADGET
Dan: was he really
Dan: thats nuts
Dan: he is so funny htoiugh
Me: so hes like really really really old?
Dan: hes mad old
Me: Wait a second didn’t he die a few years ago? I remember that.
Me: wait
Me: dan
Me: i just looked on wikipedia Don Adams is dead…
Dan: hes defiantley my teacher
Me: dan
Me: hes dead
Me: what is your teachers exact name?
Dan: donald adams
Me: well according to wikipedia that wasn’t even his real name and he’s also dead hahaha
*LOTS OF TIME PASSES*
Me: dan…
Dan: he is still alive bro
Me: no
Me: dan
Me: I’m really sorry
Dan: i got to go but he is stlil alive
Dantheman052 has signed off
+ 
= 
I’ll be honest…I sat here for a while thinking of how to begin this true story. I eventually realized that there is no better way than to recite the famous anonymous quote, “It takes a true friend to show you his penis while he’s stumbling on the side of the highway trying to take a piss, drunk, and tripping over the guard rail while passing cars almost hit him on the way to a place that was voted the most dangerous city in the United States.” Perfect, right? Almost everyday I try to get the ridiculous things Dan Liptak did that faithful day out of my mind out in fear that I might one day also get that drunk and do things that stupid as well. There is a good chance that no human being has ever been more drunk than Dan Liptak was that day. A very very very good chance.
Let’s rewind to a few months back when I had received my trusty Pearl Jam tickets in the mail. It didn’t bother me much that the concert was in Camden, NJ, which was conveniently voted the most dangerous city in the United States (In Dangerous City Monthly Magazine, I assume).. I mean, come on, my home town has a crack head named “Boomer”. It also has a black man named Jesus who is between the ages of 22-41 and frequents the local basketball court near the park, rain or shine, high or sober. My town also has a man named Anthony, nicknamed “Preacher”, who was left back three times in high school and now at the ripe old age of 25 still forces himself to attend the local rec center to play sports and live out his bad acid trip of a life. Little did I know that the citizens of Camden would actually be the least of my worries. Instead, it would be a friend who once actually had his AOL screen name as DanFudge and a bunch of numbers. What does that even mean? I should have taken the mildly homosexual screen name as a truly horrible omen with Dan.
Let’s fast forward a bit now. Dan has just leaned over like a total creep and put his head on my friend Danielle’s lap in the back seat. The drool took about 2.3 seconds to fall out of his mouth and onto her jeans while he sang a song that probably doesn’t even exist but he thought was Pearl Jam. Actually, whoa, wait, let’s rewind a bit again. Myself, my friend Paul, and Danny boy have just arrived at my other friend Danielle’s house to get ready to go to the concert. I had just drank two Red Bulls to prep myself for the drive to Jersey and I’m more excited than a Priest at a elementary playground. They decided to start pre-gaming with Vodka in her backyard. After a short while, we decided it was time to get on the road. We got settled in my car; I put the top of the convertible down, and was ready to go. I turned around and said, “you guys ready?” Everyone nodded as Dan instead chose that as the right time to finish his whole entire bottle. “You alright there, Dan?” is the question I’ll never forget asking. His long drawn out answer of “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood” is even more memorial. I put my foot on the gas and we were on our way.
By the time we reached the George Washington Bridge, Dan’s drunkenness was in full effect. Dan brilliantly pointed out that the arrows directing where the road turned where actually signs for Coach K, the basketball coach for the Duke Blue Devils. Eye rolls and responses of “oh yeah, Dan?” followed his statement. Much like a Rodney Dangerfield stand up show in the seventh layer of Hell, Dan proceeded to say “He gets no respect, bro. Listen, bro, the guy is a saint. He’s just like…ugh…he’s like…ugh…he’s like…ugh…getting no respect. He’s a saint. Saint K. Saint K, bro.”
As we had just reached the Jersey Turnpike, Dan’s bladder was on the verge of shutting down completely from being neglected. “Bro, Rubin, I have to pee. Can you pull over?” Explaining to Dan that I’d wait till we got to a part where there was an actual shoulder to stop on took all of about 15 minutes. I’ll tell you right now, I honestly thought I got through to him. I thought he understood. He didn’t’. About two minutes after I had explained that he’d have to wait a bit, I smelled it. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was at first. I finally came to the conclusion that an octopus dipped in salt had exploded all over the back seat.
When I turned my head around, much to my dismay, I found Dan sitting Indian style with urine trickling down his leg onto my leather seats. “Of course” I said. “Of course you pissed all over my car you psycho.” I swerved the car to the side of the road, no shoulder and all. Dan stumbled out of my car screaming “I still have to peeeee” with a nice fade at the end for dramatic effect. He made his way to the guard rail. He stepped over the railing like a wrestler stepping over the top rope at the beginning of a WWF title fight and started to piss his brains out. After what seemed like a few years, he finally finished. Everyone else was sitting in the car and I was standing outside. Dan turned around from his century long piss but forgot one key thing…to zip up his pants. I’ll tell you this right now. Dan Liptak doesn’t have a penis. He has a cock. A full fledged cock. His blonde pubes even seemed to glisten in the New Jersey sun. Wonderful. “Zip that shit up you psycho” I demanded of him. I don’t know what he was actually trying to do, but to me it looked as if he tried to do a 360 over the guard rail to the other side. He fell and smashed his elbow on the metal railing. The blood from his guard rail wound dripped onto his jeans as he finally learned how to use the zipper. “Bleed all over my car. I don’t care anymore.” I said as he stepped back into the vehicle.
Fast forward five minutes…
“I think I need stitches, bro. Stitches in an emergency bro room. bro.” I told him about the time I had to get stitches and the doctor looked like Uncle Jesse from Full House. Bad choice. Dan proceeded to talk about the best, worst, and mediocre Full House episodes in great detail (has anybody ever actually rated the quality of Full House before?). After about five minutes of being in the car, Dan said the words I never thought I’d hear him say…
TO BE CONTINUED
No, no he didn’t say the words “to be continued.” But, that’s where I’ll leave off with the adventure this week. Sorry to leave you hangin’ like a Russian porn star’s wang, but you’ll have to wait till next time for Dan Liptak Part II.
Doug: The lovable cartoon that defined our childhood would be getting a full length live action movie.
Paul Giamatti stars as Doug.
Cousin Cody from Step By Step will be playing Skeeter.
Squiggy from Laverne & Shirley will be playing Roger.
Comedian and professional pig Lisa Lampanelli will play Patty Mayonnaise.
Jason Alexander as George Costanza will play the lovable genius neighbor Mr.Dink.
Ben Affleck will be playing that mayor where everytime he comes on the screen that funny music plays.
Matt Damon will be playing a member of the mayor’s cabinet who has an affair with the mayor.
David Schwimmer will write and direct.
If it wasn’t for the money, would we still be getting the seventeenth installment of Pirates of the Caribbean this summer? How many times can Johnny Depp be drunk on a boat exactly? If it wasn’t for the money, would we also still be able to line up to see grandpa John Mclean one more time in the first Die Hard film in 12 years? If it wasn’t for the money, would Ronald McDonald still be handing out toys in Kids Meals just to make the children happy? So, now, a different question arises: if the news’ job is to inform us then why have we been subjected to having important and personal stories turned into Esquire like garbage? I think you can figure out the answer from earlier in this paragraph.
A prime example of this, of course, is the news’ coverage on the Virginia Tech shootings. After the tragedy erupted suddenly on April 16th like a bat out of hell, both the liberal and conservative media reacted basically the same way. They both, for the most part, were objective and acting like the concerned friend viewing it as a tragedy. As the days went on, the true side of the media was shown. Just two days later, the front page of CNN.com was the story of American Idol judge Simon Cowell rolling his eyes like a sarcastic 7th grader at one of the contestants who was sending out his condolences to the families of the shootings. As it turns out, at least according to the producers of American Idol, Simon was actually rolling his eyes in a separate conversation he was having with fellow judge Paula Abdul. Regardless, was it really necessary to have this as the front page of CNN a mere two days after the shootings? Of course not. But, the problem is that we, the viewer, gobbled this story up like the dad eating slices of turkey in A Christmas Story.
The reason for this type of coverage is fairly simple. Jason Dannible, a respected Psychology professor at SUNY Cobleskill, said in interview, “As competition in the news industry has increased, and ratings fuel revenue, network news’ broadcasts have developed formats which grab attention. In the effort to maintain and improve ratings, network news has sacrificed objectivity for entertainment.” James Martin, the assistant to the Exec Producer on the NBC show Heroes, who has dealt with the media first hand on account of working in TV, also agreed. He also stated in an interview, “I think that the media is trying to cover the news and put it on the air – because this is a big deal. The more dirt they can get, the more likely people are to watch their channel and let’s face it, they are all just greedy commercial fiends. I don’t think they intend to hurt anyone, and they are just sensationalizing without any thought of ‘could this bum some folks out?’”
But, now, the question is: is the media really to blame for this? Ultimately, the finger can be pointed at the viewer. We are the reason Survivor hasn’t run out of Islands to place their contestants and the show continues on. We are the reason the Real World is in its 900th season and they just can’t seem to stop challenging the Road Rules contestants in the newest season of the Inferno. Professor Dannible went on to state, “The networks feed it to us, and we buy it. We are all to blame.” James Martin had a similar take on it, and even dwelled into our obsession with the killer in the Virginia Tech shootings. Martin said, “the media over hypes and shows too much because the American public fiends for too much, and is too damn nosey, and that one kid is batsh*t crazy and so that’s like finding an American Idol.”
So, now, we must ask ourselves, is there a way to stop the current state of the media? Professor Dannible sure think so and went on to say, “When we as a society start demanding higher quality and more objective news coverage the media will respond. There are quality news broadcasts available, NPR and BBC to identify a few. If the ratings of networks such as these were to increase, competition would force NBC, ABC, FOX, CNN, etc. to rethink their format. As consumers, we have the power to choose which network news to watch and listen. We can fix the problem.” James Martin, on the other hand, seems to think otherwise. He concluded his interview by saying, “Reality TV and our need to see this type of news coverage appeals to the base of human desires. It’s the same reason that you can go to a bookstore and look on the shelves and can’t find William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying but you can find 81718 different books about what happened on 9/11.”
Despite the current state of the relationship between the media and the consumer, the American Public should understand that they have the power to stop this. Like Professor Dannible said, we can put an end to this. We have the ability to distinguish what is actually important and what could be found on the same page of the Weekly World News right next to an article on Britney Spears going GI Jane. Professor Dannible agreed by passionately speaking about the Virginia Tech shootings, “Many of us sat glued to the TV as the reports of the VT tragedy surfaced. I purposely chose tragedy and distinguish it from massacre, the way in which the network advertised and sold the incident to us. Massacre sensationalizes the violent nature of the event!” Like how Obi Wan Kenobi was Princess Leia’s only hope, we, as the viewer, are the only hope to fix this problem. Just like how we have the power to tune into CSI every week because we really like one liner’s quickly followed by songs by The Who, we also have the power to choose what is right for us, and the American public should understand that with the news, much like Sgt. Joe Friday, we should want “just the facts ma’am.”
As a result of the old site getting bought out and the hard drive with the material getting wiped out, this is the only remaining article from www.andrewrubin.net.
The Biggest Piece of Shit I Ever Bought
August 19th, 2005
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Bob: Hey, dude! You wouldn’t happen to have 15,000 songs and multiple color photos all in one, easy to use, Apple product!? Joe: Yeah, bro. I do! It’s all right here…on my brand new Ipod. These days, everybody and their grandma own a super cool Ipod. I admit it, I bought one too. Like purchasing that George Foreman Grill, it’s one of those things I will always regret. I thought that owning an Ipod would be a good idea, until I realized I wasn’t going on a one month trek across the plains of Africa anytime soon. There is never going to be a point in my life where I need over three weeks straight of music at my fingertips. In reality, that same conversation from before should go something like this. Bob: Hey, dude! You wouldn’t happen to have about 100 songs you like and 14,000 you will never listen to ever again all on a product made by a company that a few years ago sucked so much they were going to go out of business? Also, on that same over priced Apple product, you wouldn’t happen to have 300 pointless pictures of you and your friends making stupid faces, would you? Joe: No…two years ago my Ipod broke and I am still waiting for Apple to send me a new one. Ouch! Now, let’s talk about those great Ipod commercials. I don’t know about you, but the first thing I did when I got home from buying my Ipod was blast U2 and dance around like a kid with Down Syndrome while bright colors flashed everywhere. Good job, Apple marketing person! You really pulled through with that one. WARNING: Do not get an Ipod if you don’t want to deal with what will happen if it breaks. While walking down my stairs on the way to school one day, my Ipod slipped out of my hand right after the last step. It dropped probably about a total of two feet onto the soft carpet. I had no need to worry because it was protected by the most expensive protective case I could buy. I am pretty sure that case would protect my Ipod against a nuclear meltdown. I quickly picked up my Ipod after it fell, thinking nothing was wrong with it. Once I got to school, I realized it was broken for all eternity. Bummer. WARNING: Do not get an Ipod if you are a person who doesn’t like to be surrounded by an endless amount of dorks, dweebs, and nerds. Once that bad boy breaks, prepare to spend the next decade at the Apple Store. You see, once mine broke I called the help number that same day. They told me to go to my nearest Apple Store. Well, because the Apple Store isn’t down my street like the 1-800 number so cleverly thought, I had to go about 45 minutes to the actual nearest store. Once there, they told me that they couldn’t help me because I didn’t have an appointment. Of course! The store was virtually empty of customers and full of about ten employees who were wandering around in a daze. But, of course they were all very busy and there was no way they could possibly help me then. So, I attempted to make an appointment. It didn’t surprise me when Geek Apple Store Worker #1 told me they were somehow booked for the rest of the day and said to come back. I didn’t mind because it’s not as if going there was a complete fucking hassle or anything. $10 says that they didn’t actually have any appointments that day and in reality, Geek Apple Store Worker #3 closed the store early so they could all watch the copy of Napoleon Dynamite he brought in.
The next day, I made an appointment online. Once I got to the store, it was supposed to be a five minute wait. After playing Harry Potter with a small Chinese boy on a computer in the kid’s section for 30 minutes, my name was finally called.Geek Apple Store Worker #2 then told me to go over to the “Genius Bar.” Apparently, two workers at the Apple Store dubbed themselves geniuses and devoted their jobs to fixing Ipods all day. Way to go. Unaware that working as a “genius” at the Genius Bar is just one step up from sucking dick for coke for a living, they come into work everyday. I let the small Chinese boy take over Harry Potter and decided to walk over to the Genius Bar. Confused, I made my way over to a counter where two Star Trek fans in Apple Store shirts were fixing electronics. I got very excited because I thought this actually might not take very long. Once one of the “geniuses” attempted to fix my Ipod by holding it up to his ear and shaking it violently with a stupid look on his face, I knew I was in hell. The Genius Bar flunky then sent me over to a husband and wife duo that work at the store and could supposedly help. Needless to say, we all spent the next hour accomplishing nothing. After almost a full two hours of acting like idiots, the Apple Store employees decided to tell me that I would need to send away for a new Ipod. By “new” they mean a refurbished piece of shit that is most likely the same broken Ipod I gave them but now with a scratched bar code so I couldn’t tell. Excellent. Geek Apple Store Worker #2 proceeded to tell me he had to go in the back and get some papers for me to sign. He was gone for a very long time and after a while I wondered if he was winning the Magic The Gathering tournament he must have joined. Once he finally returned, I quickly signed the papers and got the fuck out of there. A few weeks later my brand new/refurbished Ipod came. I lost interest and haven’t used it much since. I don’t want anything to do with it anymore and I even refuse to take the headphones from the Ipod and use them with my Discman. Why? Because they suck. I really loathe this myth Apple has created which is that you can do a variety of strenuous activities while wearing them. I see commercials where people are jogging and dancing with the headphones securely in their ears. When does this happen exactly? In the pile of shit turned motion picture Blade 3 , Jessica Biel’s character decides she is going to listen to her Ipod while fighting some bad ass vampire gang members. Uh…what? Is there something I am missing? I can’t sit in my computer chair listening to my Ipod without the headphones falling out of my ears for no reason let alone brawl vampire thugs at the same time.
If you are still pondering whether to buy an Ipod or not, think about how many vacations you plan on taking that involve making journeys across the Galaxy. Then and only then will you need that much shitty music to last you such a long time. If anybody is interested, I am selling a 40 gig Ipod. If somebody actually wants to purchase it, contact me and be aware that I am selling it for one million dollars. That should just about cover the trauma Apple has caused me and countless other people. If I become desperate and can’t find a buyer, I will attempt to give it away. If nobody wants to take it, then I’ll simply walk onto a Manhattan subway and will most likely get robbed for it. I’ll make sure I give him the receipt though. He might want to return it. Dear Apple: I hate you. |
For all who used to visit www.andrewrubin.net…
Also, if you’d like to go to www.andrewrubin.net now, be their guest. There you can purchase such exciting items as…I shit you not…Gojii Berries, Coconut Oil, and Wheat Grass. I don’t know what a Gojii Berry is but I can almost assure you it will do nothing but help your body and cleanse your soul.
Lastly, feel free to check out www.andrewrubin.com. There you will find an incredible amount of boobies and gay sex. Click on the link “Gays Sex” if you like men and bad grammar. That site should win an award. I don’t know which one…but any award will do. If you’re really up to it, feel free to rub Coconut Oil on yourself, dip your wang in Gojii Berries, and see just how long you can watch “Gays Sex” for.
If you’d like to pass some time, try to pick out the pedophile that bought my site out using this line-up.
“Hi little child. Would you mind if I ate out your asshole for a bit?”
“Hey little one. What are the chances I could abuse and sex you up this Tuesday? None? Wrong answer.”
“I’ll be straight up. I’m Australian and I want to have sexual intercourse with your head.”
“What is up broseph? Yes yes it is true I know your hip children terms. May I take your order? Would you like molestation with that double cheeseburger?”
“I’m sorry. I’m seriously sorry.”
“13/f/fl lolz”
“What do I look like? 6’7’’, tan, work out every day, play 83 different types of sports, better looking than your dad, and not a fat disgusting pig. That basically sums it up cutiepie.”
I apologize but I couldn’t get an actual photo of the last suspect. They did however make this drawing down at the station. There were many seven year old first hand accounts.
