A few days ago a user on Reddit started a thread for nerdy "Yo' Mama" jokes, and it's delightful.

Here are a few of my favorites.

Your momma's so fat that you can see whats behind her due to gravitational lensing.

The woman who carried you in her womb for your gestation period and later expelled you from her vagina has such an excess of adipose tissue that one could reap cardiovascular benefits simply from taking a brisk walk around her person.

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Your mother is so fat that the assertion "she sits around the house" may be interpreted literally rather than figuratively.

There's also a good deal of laughing to be done on the comments all the other nerds leave about the jokes. It's like 12 levels of nerdiness deep and I love it.

Here's the original thread.

Of course, you can't drop Yo Mama jokes without reminding me of this gem by the Pharcyde.

In a day when there were only two cores—hard and grind— and before anyone crabwalked their way through a music video, before there was a scene for which there could be hair, before anyone auto-tuned the clean vocals in their songs, Morbid Angel released an album called Domination. The year was 1995 and I was 13 years old. I had been listening to Morbid Angel for some time at this point. I owned 1989's Altars of Madness and 1991's Blessed Are The Sick, but it was their third album, 1993's Covenant that was the important one. I have no idea how many times I've listened to this album, but it must be in the healthy triple digits. The count was probably into the triple digits when Domination came out in 95. It was right up there with Vulgar Display of Power and Chaos A.D.

I listened the living hell out of that record. In case you are somewhere around my age and are unfamiliar with Covenant but you were around to see Beavis & Butthead, then you might recognize this video.

Pretty killer song right?

I know it is.

And then Domination came out and for some reason I thought they'd gone soft on me. I was disappointed with the album and it never really enter heavy rotation the same way that Covenant had. The songs were weak and soft. They basically made a fucking pussy ass country record I thought. I felt betrayed, so Domination was lodged into the back of my brain as Morbid Angel's failed mid-career attempt at selling out.

Then a few weeks ago, I decided I'd give their "new" record a shot. Of course, this was early 2010, 15 years after its release. Morbid Angel had released three records afterward, yet in my head, for whatever reason, Domination was still the "new" one. Weird how that happens.

And, wow. Was I wrong in my opinions of the album. Domination fucking SLAYS. Perhaps you'd be interested in hearing the song that pretty much convinced me that Morbid Angel had gone soft on this record? Here it is.

What the hell? Was I serious? Something in me thought that this wasn't heavy enough? "Where The Slime Live" is an amazing song, yet 13-year-old Joe thought it was total pussy crap. I was an idiot! In all likelihood I still am!

In case the sample wasn't enough, here are a couple more tracks from the record I had dismissed as not heavy enough.

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Yeah. I know. Totally soft right?

I think I've proven myself here. If you've got some old records around that you maybe didn't get into the first, give them a listen. You might be pleasantly surprised by what you hear.

Seriously. What the hell. I am so mad right now.

THE BEAK FELL OFF.

Thanks, Elizabeth!

This is amazing. They shoved a fibre optic camera up this woman's nose and down her throat to get these shots. Your throat looks like an alien when you're singing. So great.

Thanks, Charles V!

Gardner, who I've discussed before on The Black Laser, loves pranks. Loves them. He also loves mischief making and bets with people to get them to do outrageous things. He's a good natured troublemaker, and also a complete pain in the ass sometimes. For instance, I remember one night I was at work making copies of tapes or something and he calls me.

He says, "Hey dude, will you get a tattoo with me?"

I say, "I'm at working, but I'll go with you, sure."

"No," he says, "we have to get the same tattoo."

"Fuck you," I say, "I'll go with you, but I'm sure as hell not getting a tattoo with you. What are you getting tattooed?"

"I can't tell you. It's a secret."

"Wait. You mean, you wanted me to get a matching secret tattoo with you of something you won't even reveal to me?"

"Yeah, basically."

"You're fucking nuts. But I'll still go with you."

I meet him and this girl in Washington Square Park and we head over to one of the myriad tattoo parlors in the West Village. Along the way he refused to tell me what he was getting tattooed. When we had selected a fine establishment, the girl and I waited in the waiting area and Gardner went into the back. I convinced her to tell me what he was getting at about the same moment I could see but not hear him describe it to the guy doing the ink. The guy looked at him, laughed, shook his head and went to work.

You know what he got? He got this. Even more hilarious, he went swimming before it fully healed and half the tattoo washed off. Hah!

Anyway, this was all just a preamble to the real story here. Gardner called me last year and asked me to make the most horrifying Lucky Charms based image I could think of. He had challenged a girl at work that she couldn't eat only Lucky Charms for 7 days. It doesn't sound all that bad, but if you think about it, it's terrible. I won't even eat Lucky Charms for ONE meal, much less for an entire week. What happened was epic, but don't let me ruin it for you. Instead, enjoy this video.

Because I don't have a whole lot of awesome to talk about right now, here's a pretty killer video of Giorgio Moroder playing with his Vocoder. Please note the mustache.

Enjoy!

As you might know, this site posts to Facebook every time I write something. Fun. Anyway, a friend of mine Matt left this comment:

Hey bro if you go past the event horizon you are fucked, whether by gravity or your inside-out crew -- doesn't matter.

That reminded me of this amazing video that describes what it would be like to be killed by a black hole. Enjoy. Science is awesome.

Sometimes the internet is a marvelous thing. What we were discovering just weeks ago has since completely blown up and spread virally. I'm, of course, talking about Die Antwoord, South Africa's finest art. And even the stodgiest of the old guard, The New Yorker, has hit on their magnificence. Check it.

If authenticity is a vampire threatening to suck the fun out of pop music, the South African band Die Antwoord (“The Answer,” in Afrikaans) is a fistful of garlic. Go to the band’s well-designed Web site and you will find a goofy, vibrant ball of confusion. Die Antwoord was founded by a South African music-biz veteran named Waddy Jones (Ninja, here) who celebrates zef, which translates roughly as “common” or “redneck,” but which Jones claims is a synonym for “the ultimate style.” This dicey language game will be refereed by South Africans; everyone else can unravel the band’s musical preference for the nineties. (Vanilla Ice and Technotronic come to mind.) The band is better at generating questions than answers. What’s with the post-Keith Haring illustrations? Why does the band member Yo-landi Vi$$er look like both a model and a normal teen-ager? Is Die Antwoord a celebration or a sendup? Get ready for a fight about the legitimacy of the group and, hopefully, for an influx of more South African pop culture.

What's next? The Wall Street journal reviewing The Behemoth's next record? A four page article on Detroit Ghettotech in the Conservative Chronicle? An editorial in The Economist on the best places in Brooklyn to drink on a Saturday afternoon? Will the wonders never cease?!

Check the original here.

Thanks for the heads-up, Sarah!