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.

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!

Tonight, on the train home from work, the man standing next to me was scratching his scratchers and reading this gem.

Awesome. I love New York. It is so great.