Fellow flipper MIA gives the finger during the half time show at the Superbowl. Indecency or who-gives-a-shit? Tell us what you think.
MIA Superbowl Flip Off
2
Shoot First and Ask Questions Only If Your Aim Sucks
Cowboy up, America. This is the Land of the Free, and Home of the overwrought sense of righteousness to shoot anything that moves. Especially anything that moves near your house or your shit. Here is a double-barrel ‘Fuck You’ to anyone who thinks using a gun on another human being is as clear-cut as pulling a trigger.
I’m trying to figure out what it is with you Americans and your fascination with guns and 
killing your fellow countrymen. Maybe, like the kids of today who came of age always having the internet, you can’t imagine being a country without firepower. You used your hunting rifles (and the French Navy) to throw off the shackles of oppression, and ever since you’ve been firing in the dark at anything that appeared threatening. A gun is a miraculous thing. It puts us at the top of the food chain, and levels the playing field among small and large men. That, of course, leads to bigger guns that fire more bullets faster. But I’m not here to talk about an arms race. I’m simply wondering how the murder of another human gets you people so pumped.
Recently, an unfortunate young man was on the business end of a shotgun in one of the hellacious suburbs of the city I call home. The scenario is anything but clear. In the dark middle of nowhere, this 29-year-old jackass is wandering, after midnight, around outside a farm house. Maybe he was up to no good. Maybe he was drunk and lost. Maybe he ran out of gas or got a flat tire. Anyway, wifey lets the dog out and sees this guy lurking (in her opinion) and lets out a blood-curdler that brings hubby running with the shotgun.
So far, the details of what happened next ain’t so clear except that drunken jackass is dead full of buckshot in the driveway and ain’t telling no tales. The 59-year-old trigger man apparently told police there was some kind of a “struggle” but official and news reports are vague about anything else. The dead guy had no weapons.
Impossible to tell what happened here. I’m not necessarily going to judge either party. You live in the boonies and police response time is long and a lot can happen between 9-1-1 and sirens. Seeing somebody you don’t know out there in the dark is probably pretty fucking scary, and you probably keep your gun loaded. Maybe the kid was between them and their car and they couldn’t run for it. Maybe he made a threatening gesture, or was too drunk to explain himself. Maybe he was there to murder and rape everyone in the house. It’s not the story that so much gets me as the reactions to it. Here are a few upstanding members of the community with their 2 cents (adjusted for inflation).
“I hope they at least emptied the gun on this guy.”
“this ought to deter some would be prowlers. don’t come a’ lurkin’ or your body will be a’ jerkin’”
“Another victory for the second amendment! I want to see more stories with THIS outcome! If this happened more often, maybe would-be robbers would think twice before embarking on a life of crime.”
“If YOU show up on my doorstep, in the middle of the night and I don’t know you and you give me ANY reason to think you’re up to no good, JUST ONE, you WILL be perforated. Good on the homeowner. Stay off of people’s property at night if you don’t want to be shot…”
“Chalk one up for the good guys.”
These are your neighbors, my friends. Do not surprise them with a visit or you will be annihilated. The last comment gets at the heart of the problem. People who think this way are a little scared, and a little too dependent on Hollywood to fill out their life experiences. In stories, shows, and movies, there are clear cut good and bad guys. 
You know who you are rooting for from the get-go most of the time. On their TVs, the prowler was clearly a bad guy, and the good, church-going homeowner was just saving his wife’s life. If you’re so cut off from reality that you would use a phrase like “embarking on a life of crime” then it’s likely that most of your experience with sex and violence comes via electronic entertainment. You’re sheltered, you’re afraid of the ‘bad’ people. You are the good people.
I get defending yourself. I work for the Department of Homeland Security. I know there are fucked up, bad people out there. They do fucked up, bad things. But this gun-toting hero complex that a lot of people in this country have is a frightening state of mind. I’d imagine the number of crimes stopped by guns is far smaller than the number of crimes committed with guns.
Kim Kardashian’s Ass Hair
Who the fuck decided to start waxing ass-holes? What year was it? I know big hair was all the rage in the 80s, but probably not the early 90s? I have no idea, as I’m sure my nether region looked like Demi Moore’s coonskin cap well past the expiration date for big crazy bush. I understand the desire to have a smooth balloon knot, but this is not an easy thing to achieve people! Kneeling on all fours and having some woman spread sticky shit on your anus and then RIP it off abruptly? Wow, you have to really love your lover for this torture. And shoving a razor between your cheeks is just fucking psychotic. Then there’s the problem of the dark back door. Did you know our assholes are supposed to be white now? Just apply a little acid to your freshly waxed anus and then rub it in. Voila… you have lightened your rear. Apparently it’s not just for porn stars anymore. I’m not saying we should walk around like those hairy hippie bitches at the gym, but come on ladies! Where will it stop? Please discuss.
P.S. If you’re looking for information about Kim Kardashian’s ass hair, you’re probably disappointed right now, maybe even angry. Well, fuck you. You’re the one googling Kim Kardashian’s ass-hair. Loser.
Sports Fans are Terrible People
Last week I was lucky enough to attend games of both my local college and my local NBA team, and I was dismayed at how terrible are most of the people sitting around me. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve been to lots of games, but I am surprised each time at the level of mean-spiritedness all around.
You see, I am a firm believer in positivity. This may surprise you, as I am a contributor to Rock Paper Finger, which specializes in flipping people off, but it’s true. I may write about things that annoy me, but I generally try to stress the positive in my life, and leave behind everything else.
When I was at the games, I was amazed to hear the things coming out of my neighbors’ mouths. Apparently, the referees were discriminating against the home team in an effort to award the visiting team an unearned victory! Furthermore, I learned that the best way to encourage the team for which you root is to scream obscenities at its players for the slightest of mistakes! Especially if they’re 19-year-old freshmen!
You see, I always thought that my job as a fan was to cheer for my team, clapping when they perform well. The season ticket holders who sat near me have a different idea. Call me Pollyanna, but I am flabbergasted that anyone would spend that much money for the privilege of screaming at people for two hours. Attending a game may be the only situation in modern life in which it is permissible to loudly insult someone standing just a few feet away, without fear of getting punched. Well, outside of a GOP presidential debate, am I right? Zing!
There are lots of kinds of sports fans, but the two worst are these:
Blinded By His Loyalty Guy
Blinded By His Loyalty Guy (BBHLG, for short) is likely quite knowledgeable about the game, but he can’t get past the fact the team he loves is playing. We all love our teams, but a grown-up understands that his players will occasionally commit fouls, or that they’ll be on the receiving end of bad calls from time to time. BBHLG believes that all fouls are committed by the visiting team, and that the referees are colluding to screw his team over.
Just Knows Enough Guy
Just Knows Enough Guy (JKEG) might have played a little bit of basketball in his time (or football, etc.), and he’s likely watched a lot of it on television. What he hasn’t done is actually learn about the sport. He knows just enough to arrogantly assume he knows everything. On every play, JKEG spots something the referees miss, something that really screws over the home team. Except… he’s wrong, and the refs are right about 99% of the time.
I have a lot of questions. Irate sports fan, is this fun for you? Do you leave the arena thinking to yourself, “Gee, what a delightful evening of sport?” Irate sports fan’s wife, aren’t you terribly embarrassed by your asshole husband? Do you ever ask him to behave himself? Sports teams, do you really want these kind of fans? Is this the kind of environment you want to foster?
I’ve heard a number of complaints about the breakdown of civility in our country, and I believe that something has really changed in the last few years. People have no compunction about saying the worst thing they can to another person. If you don’t agree with me, you’re a fucking socialist (or fascist, depending on your politics). Your mother is also likely a whore.
I can hear the sports fan’s defense.
“I’m just really passionate about my team!”
Oh really? Then why don’t you, I don’t know, cheer for them in a sincere way? I don’t mean that half-sarcastic thing you do when they do what you want them to, either. Just cheer until your voice is hoarse.
“I bought my ticket. I can do whatever I want!”
Guess what, asshole? I bought my ticket, too. Don’t I have the right to enjoy myself? Hearing your ill-informed, insane opinion on the game isn’t fun for me. You know what’s fun for me? Farting on people. Every time you scream something stupid, I’ll come over and fart on you. That way, we’ll both have fun!
“It’s just part of the game, dude.”
Is it? Or is it just an excuse for you to vent about the fact your life isn’t going the way you’d like? Didn’t your parents teach you about sportsmanship? Do you think that they would be proud of your behavior?
Don’t ruin something you love. Celebrate the team you love, the sport you love. Cheers sound much better than boos. Let your players feel how much you love them, instead of letting the referees know how much you hate them. Think about how your behavior affects those around you. Basically, don’t be a child. If you don’t have something nice to say, shut the fuck up.
Am I A Real American?
Greetings,
As we roll deeper into 2012, I am reminded by Subway commercials that this summer, the greatest steroid-free athletes in the world will gather in London. I guess that I kinda care about the Olympics. There are a few events that interest me, that I will try to remember to catch on TV. Mostly the events that Usain Bolt runs in and the rarely televised Table Tennis and Badminton matches. What pisses me off? All of the hype and sentimental stories told by NBC about the competitors. But that is not the reason I am writing.
What I am really reminded of as I eat subs and mentally prepare for the Games, is that I root against the Americans in many of the events. As a citizen of the United States of America, one would think that I would always be pulling for the home team, but I just can’t do it. I am an avid sports fan who is extremely passionate about a few local teams, so I have the capability. I think for me it is a matter of disliking the athletes.
So tough to hate
I first noticed the hatred as the US Men’s Basketball team began it’s International domination while using NBA players. They are overpaid, overconfident, and overhyped stars. Apolo Ohno, Michael Phelps, and Lindsey Vonn fall into that category. Thus I smile a little bit when they fail and the unknown competitor from Maldives wins the Giant Slalom or the 200 m Butterfly. I root for the little guy when I am not emotionally invested. I root for the US Soccer team during the World Cup because they are the underdog, but that is about it.
So, as I try to answer the previously stated title question, I additionally ask myself whether I am embarrassed to say that I am an American. I have spent some time traveling internationally and must say that I am a little bit shy about saying where I am from. Partly because I don’t really know what the coolest way to say it is: “U.S.A.” feels like I am trying to start a chant, “America” doesn’t make sense while touring the southern Americas, “The States” sounds like an arrogant nickname, “The Evil Empire” might endear me to some travelers but could piss others off, leaving “The U.S.” as really the best way to state my homeland. I then wait for their reaction and agree with any complaints or jokes they lob my way.
Why am I embarrassed? You know the reasons, and many of them are not unique to this country: Our government is completely inept, our leaders are not representatives of the general population but of the wealthiest corporations, our people are some of the fattest in the world, we have made millionaires out of people like “The Situation”, Glenn Beck, Darius Miles, and Miley Cyrus, and we still acknowledge Texas as one of our 50 states.
So easy to love
I know that the response is to say that America invented Rap music, Corn Dogs, “Arrested Development (TV)”, Jessica Alba, and the Missionary position. All great things, especially when you combine them, but just not enough to overcome our errors. The whole world looks at us and only sees the dropping bombs and fast-food chains. They may appear to love our pop stars even more than we do, but deep down they laugh at our stupidity.
You may now think of me as a hater or a detractor, you may even want to call me Un-American. If that is true, then you are one of the people that I would like to show my middle finger to. Questioning our system and hating our celebrities is very American, and if you don’t like it – you can GIT DA HELL OUT!
Beiber + Busta + Christmas Song = Death of Hip Hop
In case you lack the patience to watch anything embedded from YouTube, and I certainly do, that was Justin Beiber performing the Christmas song “Little Drummer Boy” during a promo for the NBA. The song featured a verse from hip hop icon Busta Rhymes.
That Justin Beiber, whose entire purpose is to serve the pop music machine (until he turns 25 or so), is disinterestedly covering a Christmas standard is no surprise. Nor is it surprising that the NBA would latch onto that tepid recording for its pregame show; it always finds a way to link its product with popular music.
The part that blows my mind is that out of fucking nowhere, Busta Rhymes shows up partway through to play second banana to a charisma-less, style-over-substance, Canadian midget… on a FUCKING CHRISTMAS SONG.
From the moment I first heard Busta’s voice on A Tribe Called Quest’s “Scenario,” I knew he’d be a hit. His voice was gruff and memorable; his flow was at once halting and smooth, compelling and captivating. It didn’t matter what he was saying, and frankly I couldn’t understand half of it anyway. I wanted to hear more from Busta Rhymes.
That album came out about 20 years ago, and since then, Busta put out a number of successful albums, each with hit singles. I genuinely view him as a crossover pioneer. Through clever lyrics, catchy songs, and sheer weirdness he made pop culture pay attention to him, without overly pandering to the demands of the Top 40. In other words, he was a less successful Jay-Z, taking hip hop singles out of the R&B chart and making white people interested.
I’ll concede that his best days are gone. He hasn’t had a genuine hit since the mid 2000′s, and is at least 40 years old now. But why stoop to this? Surely it can’t be the money. Unless he was completely reckless with his cash, he’s a millionaire many times over. Maybe he misses the spotlight, and wants just one more chance to be seen, wants somebody out there to see him and say “Hey, it’s Busta Rhymes. I remember him.”
Maybe he just really fucking loves Christmas.
I am still a youngish man, but I am starting to have those small moments where I realize that my good ol’ days are gone. For example, when I talk to teenagers, all I can think about is how I’m just old enough to be their dad. I remember growing up without the internet. And now, like those before me, the music of my youth is either a joke to today’s young people, or a nostalgic trip down memory lane for people my age who have made bad life choices.
I’m not ready for this. People in their early 30′s, I beg of you: rise up and throw off the predictable shackles of aging! Continue to listen to new music. Keep your hairstyle flexible to stay with the times. Don’t insist that the world was somehow simpler or better when you were a teenager, just because your life hasn’t panned out how you’d hoped. And most importantly… when it becomes clear that you can’t keep up with the kids anymore, don’t make the mistake that Busta Rhymes did. Accept your age and place in society, and move on.
Tips From a Super Shopper
This woman is like the LeBron James of shopping; willing to step all over anyone and any organization that stands between her and glory. Like King James, she got herself most of the way there on talent and determination, she just needed her little purse-sized Dwayne Wade of 4th-quarter closing goodness in a can to win the day. And lets be honest, no blood, no foul. She’s a mom with teenage kids and she even turned herself in to the police when she realized that, apparently, thousands of mealymouthed, goodie-two-shoes people nationwide felt that she’d done something wrong. She walked into the police station, said “Yeah, I fucking did it. What?”. Then exercised her right to remain silent and they LET HER GO. The D.A. isn’t even charging her with a felony. Win-win. For her at least. She is Charlie Sheen Bi-winning. I think the D.A., like myself, realized that she is just out there doing what the best Americans are doing. It’s what made this country great.
Since about August Wall Street has been planting the idea that holiday shopping season is right around the corner. And in the weak-ass news days following Halloween and right up through Thanksgiving, every local news anchor to national media outlet has been telling this woman how deep the discounts will be and how quickly they will go. Big box retailers in an arms race to be the first to open literally had people still clutching turkey drumsticks in one hand and their spouse in the other lined up to be trampled on Thanksgiving Day. Every other internet pop up, newspaper insert, and water cooler conversation is about Black Friday, and deals, and what are you going to get the kids this year.
That’s the measure of a parent in America. Little Timmy is fat, kind of dumb, and lacks much ambition, but goddamn it, he had more gifts under the tree than the neighbor kid. You just know they all get back from winter break and, like little demon accountants, gather on the playground with spread sheets and “hotness” indexes to see who’s parents come out ahead. It’s like a quarterback rating formula or the Pythagorean theorem. They don’t make sense and have few actual applications in real life, but it’s something you need to win to make you feel whole. This woman was under that kind of pressure to come through for little Timmy.
I mean for Christ sake, you people were viciously and inexorably attacked and mentally scarred by a terrorist attack on September 11th and your fearless leader, President George W. Bush said, in essence, if you don’t go shopping right now, the terrorists have won. His approval rating shot up to something like 91% and the rest is history. The whole stimulus message became a little more mixed lately. It became a bad word under Obama. It looked like the whole shopping message was making a comeback, but it became muddled again by recently former presidential candidate Herman Cain’s stimulus package, as most famously referenced by she-leech Gloria Allred. I think he called it Black Walnut or something. Look, all I know is that by pepper-spraying those damn, wait-in-line-like-everyone-else socialists, that woman was practically on the front line of the war on terror.
Americans revere shopping acumen. Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder has become a celebrated trait with moms turning coupon clipping into full-time jobs and further into celebrity with their own reality shows. But our pepper-spray hero has shown those mentally-damaged, suburban cream-puffs and their binders who’s boss. It’s a well established piece of wisdom that you don’t bring a coupon book to a chemical weapon fight. I know I won’t go to a big box store without my pepper spray and gas mask. Though, it’s more of a personal problem. For some reason women in stretch pants are instinctively, almost violently attracted to me. It’s like Beatlemania up in the Wal-mart. It’s just undignified for a mother of three to lose her shit in front of her family. I am not a piece of meat, ladies. I won’t hit a woman, but I will pepper-spray the shit out of one.
Moral of the story here is that her kids got an Xbox, and America stays on top for another day. Take that terrorism…. also communism.
Peacock Feathers and Their Users
So I’m minding my own running business, sweating along a country road, enjoying the impressive and calming distractions of blues skies, the mountain yonder with her new snowy dress, birdies sitting in the power lines, and cows grazing the fields. Now and then a vehicle speeds past me and I move to the grass shoulder, never stopping. I’m almost done with my fourth mile. In the flat distance, I am aware of another vehicle heading toward me – an old white pick-up.
Something gets my hackles up, and I’m not sure why. I keep running. The truck nears and slows a bit, and my heart picks up. I notice a strange bouquet of peacock feathers adorning the top of the antenna. Then, out of the air somewhere, I hear a loud, “Hey girl! You so fine…” and a lot of other loud mumbling. And it’s coming from a loudspeaker attached to the truck. I can feel myself roll my eyes and put a guard up somewhere. It’s the same old fucking bullshit us women have always dealt with. Am I surprised? Mad? Flattered? No, no and no. Maybe in my freshman year of college. Now, though? It’s old hat. I’m about to focus back on my run, when I hear, “Girl, I wanna fuck you ‘tween your titties!”
Popular Phrases That Must Die!
The staff at Rock Paper Finger was tasked with answering a simple question: “What phrase from popular culture do you want to give the finger to, and why?” Most of them told us to go fuck ourselves. We blackmailed the rest into responding. Let the debate begin!
Horace Wilkins
“A Whale of a…”
People think being a whale is so fucking NEAT-O… Fuck that shit.
Oh, you had “a whale of a good time?” Oh, did you? You mean you were constantly dodging predators, protecting your vulnerable calf from certain disaster, hoping to avoid bloodthirsty Asians? “But whales frolic in the ocean! They’re intelligent and peaceful?” Oh yeah? Whales are dicks. They’re aggressive, chintzy, and known the world over as horrible braggarts and nauseating farters. And you know why whales leap out of the water? It’s not to look graceful for your $350 dinner cruise. It’s because they are covered in barnacles and parasites, and that shit itches.
In closing, whales are one of the foulest animals on the planet. Saying you had “a whale” of a just-about-anything just makes me think you rolled around in your own feces and then broke a nun’s arm. Go fuck yourself.
Kiki Fletcher
“I Heart ______”
You know what I fucking hate? I fucking hate people who “heart” things. Every goddamn time I log onto Facebook or Twitter, I’m nauseated by this stupid bullshit.
I heart yarn! (I can’t even begin to express how ridiculous this one is. The fact that you were moved to declare this fact to all 136 of your friends is beyond sad. )
I heart cupcakes! (Thanks for that one, Queen Obvious. Who fucking doesn’t love cupcakes?? LOVE. NOT heart.)
I heart NPR! (There’s an actual Facebook page with this title. NPR is pretty fucking great. I think you’re being kind of an asshole for not fully committing to loving it.)
I heart being a douchebag is the only acceptable use in my book. Those old t-shirts that say “I (heart) NY” are okay too.
So, please learn how to use the actual heart symbol (you’ll still be a super lame pussy in my book) or figure out your feelings.
And fuck off.
Walther Thurman
“The 4-1-1″
Of all the annoying sayings out there, the one that I hate the most is “The 4-1-1.” It can appear in a few forms, such as “What’s the 4-1-1?,” “Here’s the 4-1-1,” and “We’ve got the 4-1-1″. They all piss me off. I am sure I have heard Mario Lopez utter the last one a few times on his silly television program.
I must admit though, that when I first came across this phrase, I wasn’t really sure what it meant and hoped it might be something good. I am generally all for using numbers in place of words, for example: “You gotta go #1 or #2?,” “‘Cause it’s 1-8-7 on an undercover cop,” and “Baby, can we try 69 tonight, I heard it’s fun?” Those are legitimate uses that add to society. I actually dream of a world where Math is king and reading words is no longer necessary. But, the overuse and the type of people using this particular expression ruin it for me. Just look at all of the celebrity gossip websites exhausting it as a means to spread their toxic news.
So, if you find yourself needing to recite a telephone number instead of using the word “information”, I have a number of my own I would like to show you.
Astrid Maynard
“Wait For It…”
Okay, so I really HATE the phrase, “wait for it.” It’s in songs, it’s used in dumb male-targeted movies and it’s overly used by people trying to create a faux buildup to a story with no pay-off. It buys time without paying dividends. It’s a climax that will never happen. Kinda like sex with that guy after too much booze (him) and not enough pot (me). Or lube. Or whipped cream. Er, I mean, what the HELL am I waiting for? Am I waiting for you to take a shit that comes out wearing a holiday stocking hat, talks and says I smell like roses? Am I waiting for Jesus Christ to sit his fat ass down in front of me, tell me he’s really white and demand to eat at the Claim Jumper? Am I waiting for my dog to fart a perfume that I can mass-market to snot-nosed teenagers and retire in bliss on a beach in Bali? No. Chances are whatever I’m waiting for isn’t nearly as interesting as what I found, well…wait for it…
Professor Krabs
“Bipartisan Effort”
Does “Bipartisan Effort” count? Because taking a dump is a bipartisan effort between my right and left butt cheeks. On top of that, it seems my morning deuce is more productive than any legislation labeled “bipartisan.”
Frank Collins
“Put Your Big Boy Pants On”
As someone who’s kind of a smug asshole, I hate nothing more than people who are also smug assholes. I mean, that’s MY racket.
There’s a particular kind of smug asshole who annoys me the most, however, and that’s the reductionist. You know the guy; he’s the one who takes your nuanced position on an issue, boils it down to something unrecognizable, and then tells you you’re an idiot. He then tells you to “put your big boy pants on” and see things his way, which in his mind is the only adult way of dealing with something.
“Hey asshole,” he tells you, “your viewpoint is childish. Grow the fuck up.”
Whether or not his argument is right (it’s not), does he recognize the irony of effectively calling you a child by using a childish and glib taunt? More importantly, he’s accusing you of being naive and unable to grasp difficult concepts while simultaneously reducing your argument to as simple a message as he can understand. That’s irony.
Nothing in life is more frustrating than being told you’re stupid by someone who is clearly stupider than you.
Dr. Lucy Churchill
“Funemployment”
You must be thinking, “But Dr. Chruchill, you couldn’t possibly understand all the fun that clearly comes with being unemployed – you’re a doctor.” Well let me break it to you, even doctors have work related dry spells from time to time. I had no idea that the soul-crushing anxiety that comes with wondering whether you will ever work in your chosen field again, pay your student loans, rent, and utilities each month all while maintaining your extended cable package and weekly massage appointments could be fun. But when you find out how to turn that crushing anxiety into something fun, you let me know. Until then fuck off.
“Just Sayin’”
Fuck you for taking the second of my life it took for you to push that pathetic breath past your larynx and for my ears and brain to process its meaning. It’s a second I won’t get back, and likely more than one. Because once I’ve registered what you’ve said, I spend several more seconds repressing the animal urge to grab you by the hair and slam your forehead on the nearest flat surface.
Why is it a waste of my time? Because I know you’re just sayin’. I know you’re just saying because you just fucking said. The phrase is usually only uttered after you’ve squeezed a coherent thought out of your fuzzy little mind. Then you’re too spineless to stand behind what you’re just sayin’ to just say it. Thus you add this little caveat like “oh it’s just my opinion and please don’t judge me by it or take me seriously, can we still be friends, I don’t want to offend.” Guess what? You’ve offended me by your lack of balls.
AND… I can’t remember what you are just sayin’ because I’m filled with blind rage.
Fuck you, just sayin’.
Fuck You Thermos and SIGG
Anyhoo, CafePress sent me the following email today:
Dear Content Owner,
We have removed some of your images off Thermos products because they did not comply with Thermos content guidelines. Please review the guidelines below.
THERMOS MERCHANDISE RULES
All images created for Thermos products must comply with the following rules. Please note that the rules may be more restrictive than the CafePress Content Usage Policy, however you must adhere to the following Thermos brand guidelines and requirements. We reserve the right to remove any products from the site that violate these terms without notice.
• No alternative use of the official Thermos corporate logo
• No use of the word “Thermos” in support of any specific causes or religious issues
• No use of profanity, vulgar or hateful language
• No use of violent graphic imagery (e.g., guns, knives)
• No use of controversial religious imagery
• No use of explicit sexual language or graphics
• No use of derogatory or disparaging language or imagery pertaining to disabilities, race, religion or nationality
• No use of Thermos products in CafePress fan portals
• No use of unauthorized copyrighted materials
• No political party affiliations (e.g., republican, democrat, candidates)
• No misrepresentations (e.g., “Made in the USA” on a product made in China or “Not Made in China” on a product made in China)Please make sure you adhere by the above rules when creating your merchandise or your images may be pended, which will prevent them from being used on products.
We have generated a support ticket to help us track your inquiry. Your ticket code is #########. Please use this code in any further communication.
Sincerely,
Lester B.
CafePress Support Associate
They also sent me one from SIGG, who makes water bottles. What the F, dude? Just because I used the phrase “Merry Fucking Christmas” on a graphic, alongside a picture of Jesus flipping the bird? What, is that offensive?
I’m pretty sure Jesus DOES want us to have a Merry Fucking Christmas, so why don’t you corporate assholes? Correct me if I’m wrong, but here’s the scenario that you envision when someone orders one of our products:
“Yeah,” says the customer, “I’m so glad that Thermos I ordered arrived. Wait a minute… Thermos is endorsing a picture of Jesus flipping me off? They must! That’s their logo, right there! Thermos’s implicit approval of a message I found so enjoyable I ordered it at a ridiculous markup offends me! Damn you Thermos, I’m never buying your products again!”
Do you want to know what I find offensive, Thermos? It’s children getting sent to school with soup stored in one of your crappy containers, knowing that it will be room temperature by the time lunch comes around. Shouldn’t they at least have an almost-clever logo on their Thermos?