Of course, we’re not talking about cocaine, the narcotic, but rather Coke, the beverage that never makes you fat or hyper and is completely…not a narcotic.

You can do these things with it however…

Rust Buster

Coca Cola is an excellent rust buster. Simply soak your rusted muffler in coke and then give it a good scrub in the morning. BAM! Instant Coke De-Ruster. How you ask? Just know that the properties of coke help break down the rust particles, thus making cleaning that much easier.

Window Cleaner

The citric acid in Coca-Cola also makes for a terrific window cleaner. When your car windows build up with gunk, merely wipe a little coke and your windows will appear brand new once again. This is especially useful for car windows which can get tough buildups of gunk.

“Eat It”

Aside from doing the tradition drinking, Coca-Cola is also used in a variety of cooking techniques. For example, some mix it half-and-half with BBQ sauce for an excellent marinade, while others casserole an entire chicken in it.

De-Skunk

It’s hard to rid skunk, but Coke is capable of removing the extremely unwanted scent. A can of Coke added to a bucket of water with detergent is a nice start, although we’re not sure it will remove the stink in other areas of your body, such as, under the pits. Yeah, we’re talking to you “Stink Pits.”

Pain Killer

The chemicals in Coke are very effective in neutralizing the pain of such rare occurrences as say, a jellyfish sting. This is incredibly handy when most people forget to pack anti-sting lotions at the beach, but do have a friendly coke (or beer) in the cooler. If this does ever happen to you, pour the coke over the area in which you have been stung and bask in the glory. Or, simply avoid the ocean you unwanted stranger!

De-Blacken Pots

Pots, like the ones you cook in, are sometimes coated in a black film. Nearly impossible to remove with “high valued” cleaners, a can of Coca-Cola (at least one inch thick over the film) placed in a stove on low heat, will take about an hour or so. Once fully cooked, you can wash the pot as normal and remove that unwanted gunk.

Clean Clothes

Grease is yet another potent stain that is unable to hold-up to the notorious solvent of Coke (dirt, rust, grease – are you beginning to think, ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t be putting this s**t in my body?). Empty a can of coke into your wash (trust us) along with the usual detergent and run it through a normal cycle. Believe it or not, but that unwanted period stain from Superbad may just be gone.

Kills Bugs

Pour some Cola into a shallow dish and place it near the garden. Slugs, snails, and other bugs – just like you – cannot resist the urge to take a sip. The result? Tragedy! Hence, Coke is a very good first line of attack in your garden and it can obviously save you an enormous amount of money by reducing the need for pesticides.

Healing

Coca-Cola is useful for a variety of ailments. The most common is for soothing upset stomachs (you know you’ve done it just after puking). The soda may also help alleviate nausea, as well as (spoiler: do not read while eating) aide people suffering from diarrhea or a sore throat.

Explosions

The infamous Diet-Coke/Mentos Volcano is already a well known practice in the world of pop culture, but what’s stopping you from taking it a step further?

Click Here! To watch the sweetest video ever.

Grab a lot of Coke, Mentos, couple of friends, and enjoy.

The tenor of these stories is quite simple: swine flu is going to kill us all!

Happily, the swine flu isn’t going to kill us all.  It will hardly kill any of us.   Statistically, it will kill none of us.

For despite what the news media says and reports, the swine flu just isn’t that big of a deal.

In no way is this an indictment of the WHO, the CDC or any national or local health organization bent on controlling the virus.  Their reaction and handling of the swine flu is completely justified even if a bit extreme.  Nor is this article meant to belittle those suffering or those who have perished from this virus.

This article is however an indictment of the media and their irresponsible reporting.  The news media is incapable of degrees; it’s either all (we’re all going to die) or nothing (they just don’t report it).

What the news media should be telling us is that every year hundreds of thousands of people contract the flu and every year tens of thousands of people die from it.

At time of posting this article, there were only 4,600 suspected cases of swine flu in the world with a 102 suspected deaths, 17 confirmed (those are the most liberal figures available).

In Mexico and the United States there’s been about 3000 suspected cases of swine flu.  Sounds like a lot, but look at it this way: 420 million people live in those two countries and a whopping 0.00071% are infected with the swine flu virus.  There’s more people infected with the urge to listen to Keane.

The WHO stated on April 29 that the MAJORITY of people infected with swine flu make a full recovery without medical attention or antiviral drugs.

They also stated that those surgical masks everyone is wearing in Mexico, won’t do much.  And of course the swine flu cannot be contracted by eating pork.  Still no word if the infectious disease can be contracted by just porking.

Symptoms of swine flu, or influenza A virus subtype H1N1, include chills, fever, sore throat, muscle pains, severe headache, coughing, and general discomfort.

Also, how scary can a disease be when preventative measures include covering your mouth when you cough, washing your hands and not kissing a Mexican immediately after vomiting.

For the news media, the swine flu is nothing more than 2009′s version of shark attacks or missing white girls.  Of course what the news media is really rooting for is a missing white girl to contract swine flu after being bitten by a shark.

Local news outlets hover around health department offices desperately praying that someone in their market will contract the disease.  They don’t want to be left out of all the fun.

If a market is lucky enough to have a swine flu sufferer, they keep a running total and announce a new victim like they’re updating the collections board during a telethon.

Then there’s always that classic news story where they ask the hard hitting question, “is the swine flu changing your habits?”

Yes, the swine flu is changing my habits.  I now walk around pretending to cough and sneeze while asking people if they want to see pictures of my recent trip to Guadalajara.

The news media ignored officials’ request to stop using the word “swine” when describing the flu (for fear of adversely affecting the pork industry).  The reasons: the alternate “h1n1″ isn’t scary at all and it will cost a small fortune to change all their macabre “swine flu” graphics (that’s not a joke).

The news media loves its graphics.

My favorite was a news story about ways to deal with the hype concerning the swine flu.  You mean the hype created by the news media?  So basically the news aired a story about how to deal with the news running stories.  Swine flu hype is solely the fault of the news media.

Much to their disappointment, and contrary to their hype, the swine flu isn’t going to be the ruination of humanity.  In fact, you have a better chance of getting stuck by lightening than you do from being stricken with the swine flu.

• Megan Fox looking as good as can be. (Megan Fox)
• Adriana Lima has to be a computer generated fantasy. (Adrianna Lima)
• The Olson Twins get extra points for having 4 breasts.  (Olson Twins)
• Pam Anderson in her prime for those that like the bad girls. (Pamela Anderson)
• Kim Kardashian and her curves are deserving of a mention. (Kim Kardashian)
• Beyonce Knowles has what it takes to make my list any day. (Beyonce)

Oh, and if you are one of those people who resolved to be nicer this year or to get a better job, I hate to break it to you but being nice is overrated and the economy is so bad that the chances of you getting a new job (let alone a better one) are slimmer than me seeing pigs fly over the frozen tundra of Hades.

So in this New Year I say go out there and keep getting fat while being an A-hole to people at your P.O.S. old job…hey, at least that way you would have spent your new year saving some money on not buying a gym pass and having had enjoyed some good meals.

1. You are trying to nail her sister: Nothing shows how much you care more than sacrificing yourself for the happiness of her sister.  She is sure to give you a shot after seeing the sacrifice you made in nailing her chubby little sis.  Her parents will love you more for it too.
2. You just need to blow your load and its better than straining your forearm to rub one out:  This should be an obvious one.  Nailing a fat chick, as gross as some people find it, is still potentially more pleasurable than stroking it in front of your computer screen.  I mean, if you can imagine its Megan Fox when you are doing it to yourself, why can’t you imagine it is Megan Fox when you are getting ridden to the point of breathlessness?
3. Charity:  Every man has a duty to give back to his community.  If you are one of those soup kitchen volunteers or high donors to the Red Cross than maybe this reason doesn’t work as well.  But if you are like most men and haven’t given much back to the community, nailing a fat chick is a good start as it raises society’s overall happiness quotient
4. Boredom:  Boredom can lead men to do many evil things.  Some people pick fights when bored, others do hard drugs.  Heck, some crazies even go on mass killing sprees just to cure the boredom that ails them.  I think it is pretty obvious that nailing a fat chick can cure hours of boredom (i.e. the 20 minutes doing the deed and the weeks of rationalizing it and getting over the regret that is sure to follow).  So nail a fat chick, it could save lives.
5. Revenge:  Nothing is more degrading to the ex-girlfriend who just dumped you to focus on her career/studies than the knowledge that you went out and had unprotected anal sex with a ginormous bitch.  Trust me guys, do it, tape it and send it to your ex……it is as satisfying as life gets.

some tampons and some pads. I agreed, but begrudgingly as I was in the middle of a “Small Wonder” marathon on Nickelodeon’s TV Land.
When I arrived at the store and acquired directions to the all-important tampon aisle, I walked into the most confusing moment of my life. There were tampons from all walks of life. There was a specialty

tampon for every possible moment in a woman’s life. Spotting? Try this one. Prefer a cardboard applicator to a spiky metal one? That section is further down. Are you on your period or just expecting to have one sometime in the next fortnight? That’s two different kinds of feminine products.
And don’t get me started on the pads. Light flow, medium flow, regular flow, heavy flow, extra heavy flow, and see-a-doctor flow line up next to each other like so many menstrual beacons. You can buy a pad just for use with thong underwear. Some of them can apparently fly, and they have wings. Others are land going beasts, stuck with just four legs and a tail. At every turn, I was confronted with my complete inadequacy as a husband. How was I to know what flow level my wife was experiencing? Did she need a braided string or just a regular one? Was she Poised or Always? And did she need scented or unscented? How does a person know if they need a tampon designed by a woman or one designed by a mindless, faceless automaton?
Ultimately, I grabbed a handful of lots of things (after, of course, asking a stranger who walked by to help me choose an appropriate feminine product for the woman I’ve been married to for more years than she cares to remember). When I presented my wife with the goodie bag of feminine products, she just shook her head in embarrassment—not for me, but for herself that she married such a dipshit. And as I look back on that day, I’m embarrassed for being such a dipshit. But along with that embarrassment is blind panic (I now keep a laminated note in my wallet describing the brand, common attributes, and color of the box for the products I might one day be asked again to procure). And with the blind panic is fury. Damn the tampon aisle for all its choice. I hate the free market, and I hate, as all white people must, the tampon aisle.

Sure they're good, but I'll pay later.

A couple of weeks ago, I was on vacation with friends, and we sat down for a nice lunch of freshly barbecued hamburgers, potato salad, and sweet tea. Because I tend to put on weight during the summer due to the fact that it’s too hot to leave my house for exercise and I really only eat Doritos and lard cubes, I’ve been feeling a bit chunkier than usual. So, when preparing my burger, I skipped the cheese and Manteca spread, and instead loaded up on lettuce, tomatoes, and onions. I know a loaded hamburger is not exactly healthy, but I figured the nutrients in vegetables couldn’t be all bad, and even though I don’t really like the aforementioned vegetables, I was trying to make the point to my heart that I don’t exactly hate it either. Well, I enjoyed that burger, thinking to myself that I should try vegetables with my meat more often.

Later that night, I moseyed out to the back porch with my friend to enjoy a six-pack of Zima and a couple of vanilla flavored cigars—you know, the things guys only get to enjoy when their wives are preoccupied with hanging out, drinking beers, and watching porn. I was feeling pretty good about life. But, then, not two drags into my appletini dipped cigar, I felt that old familiar rumble downstairs. I calmly left my Zima and cigar and

jogged carefully into the bathroom to take care of the deuce. As I finished up, I noted that I was unusually sweaty and out of breath, as if I’d walked to the mailbox or tried to get off my couch in the middle of the day. I felt weird and weak, and I was more than a little worried that my friend would make fun of me for being gone so long. But I put it out of my mind, determined to enjoy my pathetically short vacation.

Back to my malt beverage and smoking phallus. Relaxing, talking about Oprah’s Favorite Things, manicures, and sitting on the washing machine when you’re home alone. Genuinely enjoying the opportunity to spend time with someone who listens when you talk about your emotional issues.

And then it happened again. Again, not five minutes after I finished the last wave of fecal defortification, I found myself virtually sprinting (or as close as I’m able to muster) back to the bathroom. My stomach knotted up like I was watching “How Stella Got Her Groove Back”, and just when I thought it was over, I was struck by another wave, now with cramps. I didn’t cry, but I almost did. And so went the rest of my night, and in fact, the rest of my weekend. Over the course of the next week and a half, I lost nearly 10 pounds because I crapped out all of my internal organs, including my lungs. I couldn’t eat anything without feeling like I was about to pass a porcupine out my ass. It was excruciating and embarrassing (kind of like the erection I got from “How Stella Got Her Groove Back”), and I’ll never forget my shame.

Later that week, on the radio I heard about the wave of salmonella sweeping the nation, passed through tomatoes. It turns out I was the only person at the barbeque who ate the tomatoes. Everyone else splurged and had the buffalo blubber and mustard. No one else died the small death that is infectious gastroenteritic collywobbles. To this day, I shake and curse uncontrollably when I walk through the produce section at the local neighborhood grocery store. I will forever be cursed by that vacation, and now I will forever hate tomatoes, jalapeños, and any other vegetables that make me want to crap out a cement mixer.