Mmmhop IPA, a tiggy-top, I doo-wop

Do not adjust your monitor. DK Mode is enabled.

Whatever Fukishima breeze/pharmaceutical trial is responsible for the Hanson boys huge heads/atrophied bodies it is also probably what gave them the bright idea to finally cash in on their Mmmbop fame and create Mmmhop IPA. To conceive of its creation any other way we must imagine the three Hanson brothers sitting down in the conference room of a product development firm and getting pitched. "People will use this product every day. It could be in every restaurant, store, and home. It's called '"Hansoap.'"
"No."
"Okay, how about a sitcom entitled 'Two and a Half Men?'"
"No."
"An IPA called 'MmmHop.'"
"No."
"A line of manboy grooming products called 'Hansom.'"
"Wait, go back one."

It turns out, after reading that article, that Hanson has been cashing in on their faux-fame the entire time. I didn't know that. I guess I sort of tuned them out after I found out the girl I had a crush on was actually a boy. It gets crazier though, apparently they've released eight albums since Mmmbop, which is the same number of children they've released. They're prolific. But look at that photo again. When I imagine the Hansons reproducing I definitely imagine it happening asexually.

I've always regarded Mmmbop as the 90s "Never Gonna Give You Up," and no amount of children can change that. But after his hit, Rick Astley left the public eye whereas Hanson has been jizzing their derivative gimcrack in the public eyes since theirs. This is wrong for two reasons.
1)Asexual reproduction is accomplished without fertilization, therefore ejaculation is unnecessary.
2)Being a joke band stops being funny once you demonstrate you're in on the joke. Rickrolling was popular for a number of reasons, foremost being that it was worthy of mockery but actually pretty fun to listen to, with broad demographic appropriateness; you could rickroll your grandma and children, whereas sending them to YTMND would only be fun for you. Sending someone



My Favorite Christmas Sweater seems funny in the same vein, but only as satire. It can only be satire if they're criticizing old bands cashing in on our misplaced sense of nostalgia. If they aren't, then it's just three boymen trying to cash in on our misplaced sense of nostalgia. Which I resent, assholes. Don't capitalize on the memories of my youth unless you're prepared to drive them into the ground with millions of dollars in marketing tie-ins. Doing this folksy web store with coffee mugs is uncomfortably sincere.

Now, if some internet parasite unaffiliated with Hanson was hocking the same derivative gimcrack it would be okay, because we could live in the fantasy that Hanson doesn't know how badly they suck. That sounds snarky, but the suckiness is the source of the humor. Call it campiness or silliness if you prefer, but the root of the pleasure is in mockery. Sold by someone external to the suckiness, it retains its irony. It's unfair since the parasite is just as conniving, which makes the exercise even more cynical, but that's how it is. You can't profit off a joke about yourself.*

At present, googling for "Mmmhop IPA" returns a full screen of news sites reporting the same brief announcement. No where online can you buy, see, or read about this beer. Just a press release indicating it will appear sometime in 2012. A brand without a product. A news story without a story. An economy without a culture.

"Still, the pop band has its merchandising standards.
'We will never make dolls, lunch boxes or toothbrushes that play our songs for example," he said.'"

But we will sell buttons, scarfs, and Hansonopoly (anagram for: so onan, p.holy) with our branding all over them. Is it satire?

*Not intended to be a factual statement.

Save a Life: Stop Shopping

The day after Thanksgiving, the leading cause of accidental death in the United States between 4am and 6am is Black Friday. The leading cause of preventable death in those hours is still probably heart attack, which makes it sound more preventable than adults trampling other human beings underneath their feet. But it is not.





John Barryman explains how companies have adapted to life-threatening shopping.

As a precaution to avoid the 2008 incident where someone died, a Wal-mart store in Upland, CA decided to remain open all night to avoid lines and door-rushing. Unfortunately for them, customers began tearing into the shrink-wrapped products that were meant to be open and distributed for sale at 5 AM.

When turned away by employees, they started fighting inside, forcing the Wal-Mart to call police to kick all the customers out and close to clean-up in time for the sale at 5 AM.

The people, naturally, were pissed off, and it seems at that moment, most of them turned into zombies, banging on the glass doors and even eating some brains (not really on that last one). Some got crafty and tried to sneak into the back entrance and the lawn and garden section. Through-out the entire night, there was chanting of "let me in, let me in" and cops had to remain until 6:15 AM.

This coming from one of the store managers trying to calm the crowd, "It was scary." Meaning that crowd could have teared him limb from limb.

The arms race continue to escalate. One woman, evidentially applying lessons learned from the war in Iraq, deployed her offensive capability preemptively. "Moments after a Walmart in Los Angeles opened its doors at 10 p.m., one woman reportedly used pepper spray on at least 20 customers – some of whom were children – to keep them away from the discounted electronics she planned to buy."1

I say to the rest-of-the-world, alien observers, and ancestor spirits, that this is just what happens. It is the unavoidable outcome of incomes so high people can't remember what it's like to think about their own survival, while still too low for every wish automatically manifest via Sphere magic. We are the victims here, victims of our own success. Our government is agile and effective, our roads lead everywhere, and our economy provides for our every need. We have good reason to camp outside of stores for hours; it's the only means we have to improve our lives! John adds, “Here in the U.S., no matter how many civil liberties are denied certain groups, no matter how unhappy people are with their government, what it really takes to get people riled up is 40% off of a DVD set.” I don't know what he's saying on the first two points, but yeah, DVDs!

Our corporate string pullers are to thank. They're so effective at making and marketing widgets they can co-opt entire holiday traditions like Christmas, Valentine's Day, and now Thanksgiving to create this consumer carnival. It is a marvel the way gratitude, love, and Christ have been grossly fashioned into shiny gadgets and greeting cards to create the awesome Frankensteinian cultural creation of Black Friday. Only in America.

I don't recall hearing about Black Friday much until the mid 2000s. It was then that watching obese people squeeze through small entrances, like their own blood cells through plaque-laden arteries, became a guilty pleasure. In those days I still watched evening newscasts, and Black Friday reporting was a seductive mixture of corporate shilling during the lead up and stoic restraint in the aftermath. At first it didn't make sense why news producers feel coverage of the nearby sales serves the public good, nor the on-air talent showed so much restraint while reporting. Watch the corners of the anchor's mouth as he tries not to yell “fuck” during the following report.



You may also have noted the empty look in his eyes as hatred for mankind disintegrates the emotional centers in his brain. It now makes sense now 5 years later, as I too have discovered the way widgets fulfill me. Black Friday is education.

These door stampedes reacquaint adults with lessons learned in school about not running and how to queue. We see the pregnant lady mixing up those childhood drills as priority one is getting her wig back on, later considering getting off her belly. That's stop drop and roll lay there, lady. That's a fire safety technique! Perhaps she was trying to remain under the door frame until the shaking stopped. I'd like to think she was just dumbfounded by the savings.

It doesn't always turn into a gunfight or stampede. Here's what it looks like when things don't go horribly wrong:




Oh who am I kidding. Still horribly wrong. I can only take this as a critique of an educational system which provides no instruction in asking philosophical questions. If I had my buddy record me while I cackled and grabbed box after box of vibrators, that's what it would mean; it seems like a pretty obvious testament to the vibrator-shaped hole in our souls/intellect. So is this satire, or am I going to be posting videos of the first dirty bomb going off in the parking lot of a Walmart next Black Friday?