Where's MY Nobel Prize, Bitches?
Like, I don't want to cause an international incident or anything, but... seriously... the Nobel Prize for Medicine was given out over the weekend in Stockholm and ONCE AGAIN I find myself leaving the ceremony empty-handed. What the fuck, awarders of the Nobel Prize... WHAT THE FUCK?!?! I'm sorry if I'm not all lab coat, nerdy glasses, looking at beakers with an expression of quizzical interest while dreaming of Star Trek and wishing I knew what a vagina looked like for real. Sorry if I'm a little shabby... a little drunk... a little AWESOME!!! That's just how Dr. C-dog rolls, Nobel Prize Committee, and if you're all too square to handle it, y'all should step aside and let the new wave of badass scientist rock stars take the floor. Let us motherfuckers DANCE!!! Scientifically speaking, of course... I don't actually know how to dance. I mean, I can do the Running Man pretty tight, and the Cabbage Patch, but that hardly warrants the word "dance" all capitalized like that. Whatever, SO not my point... my point is this: I fucking deserved that Nobel Prize for Medicine and I'm going to take this space to prove it to you assholes all up in your fat fucking faces!!! Suck on my scientific kick-assedness, losers!!!
Reasons Why Dr. C-dog Should Have Won The Nobel Prize for Medicine, or, "Is That An Electron Microscope in Your Pocket, Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?"
-While I may not have participated in any of the groundbreaking research on AIDS or Cancer like this year's (undeserving) winners, I *did* come up with a sure-fire cure for The Blues. The cure? Me, doing a silly dance to Todd Rundgren's "Bang on the Drum All Day" while dispensing hot cocoa spiked with peppermint schnapps and fresh-baked peanut butter cookies, and when the song's finished we watch Ghostbusters and I give you a massage. That takes The Blues and dropkicks them into the Sun where they explode on contact and the whole world sings in unison like a Gospel choir that's not too Jesus-y, because that gets uncomfortable.
-I am a sex machine. I mean literally. A machine designed and specifically calibrated to perform sex acts on all y'all bitches.
-Remember that part in Fantastic Voyage where the shrunk the scientists and the spaceship down super-tiny and then shot them into that dudes body so they could, like, fix him up from the inside or whatever? Yeah, those motherfuckers stole that idea from me! Granted, I was using the technology to float into the eyeballs of girl's who were heading into the ladies locker room at the gym... it's like watching voyeur porn on IMAX and I'll be selling the videos online as soon as I can get someone to build me a website... but that's SOOOOO not the issue at hand. It was MY idea and Hollywood screwed me!
-It's been said that I've got more STDs than any person alive, so... you know... from a research standpoint I'm like found gold. God, I'm so itchy...
-I eat Tylenol like it was candy, which proves how much I care about the advances in pharmacology. Or... something... look, all I know is that Tylenol tastes like candy. Especially when you've knocked back a fifth of Robitussin.
-I drank this blue stuff I found in a lab one time and it gave me super-speed! Also, super-aggressive leukemia, but the radiation therapy seems to be working. Super-speed!!!
-I've got nude pictures of Einstein and if you DON'T want them released to the papers, thereby humiliating the scientific community as a whole and negating his theories (if my understanding of how science works is correct), then you should think twice before denying me the Nobel Prize for Medicine again. Dude's got some WEIRD tan lines, for real. Tan lines that raise a LOT of questions.
Reasons Why Dr. C-dog Should Have Won The Nobel Prize for Medicine, or, "Is That An Electron Microscope in Your Pocket, Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?"
-While I may not have participated in any of the groundbreaking research on AIDS or Cancer like this year's (undeserving) winners, I *did* come up with a sure-fire cure for The Blues. The cure? Me, doing a silly dance to Todd Rundgren's "Bang on the Drum All Day" while dispensing hot cocoa spiked with peppermint schnapps and fresh-baked peanut butter cookies, and when the song's finished we watch Ghostbusters and I give you a massage. That takes The Blues and dropkicks them into the Sun where they explode on contact and the whole world sings in unison like a Gospel choir that's not too Jesus-y, because that gets uncomfortable.
-I am a sex machine. I mean literally. A machine designed and specifically calibrated to perform sex acts on all y'all bitches.
-Remember that part in Fantastic Voyage where the shrunk the scientists and the spaceship down super-tiny and then shot them into that dudes body so they could, like, fix him up from the inside or whatever? Yeah, those motherfuckers stole that idea from me! Granted, I was using the technology to float into the eyeballs of girl's who were heading into the ladies locker room at the gym... it's like watching voyeur porn on IMAX and I'll be selling the videos online as soon as I can get someone to build me a website... but that's SOOOOO not the issue at hand. It was MY idea and Hollywood screwed me!
-It's been said that I've got more STDs than any person alive, so... you know... from a research standpoint I'm like found gold. God, I'm so itchy...
-I eat Tylenol like it was candy, which proves how much I care about the advances in pharmacology. Or... something... look, all I know is that Tylenol tastes like candy. Especially when you've knocked back a fifth of Robitussin.
-I drank this blue stuff I found in a lab one time and it gave me super-speed! Also, super-aggressive leukemia, but the radiation therapy seems to be working. Super-speed!!!
-I've got nude pictures of Einstein and if you DON'T want them released to the papers, thereby humiliating the scientific community as a whole and negating his theories (if my understanding of how science works is correct), then you should think twice before denying me the Nobel Prize for Medicine again. Dude's got some WEIRD tan lines, for real. Tan lines that raise a LOT of questions.
posted by Clinton at 9:05 AM
8 Comments:
OMG!!! I was gypped too!
I mean, how much acid do you have to drop, hydrochloric or otherwise, to win a NP anyway?!?!!!
BTDubs, I woke up early today to go to the post office and send you the new Sister Kisser®™©™ CD. It's on it's way...
How dare those smarmy dorks do this to you?
Just because the logistics for packaging your Cure For The Blues is, in their eyes, impossible. Nothing is impossible. Well, except for making it actually rain Skittles. Let some other “scientist” figure that other crap out. You given them a cure here.
Ungrateful bastards.
Weren’t you, like, still an EGG when Fantastic Voyage came out? Just wondering.
I'm nominating you in advance for next year.
I'm going to go home and try to get my wife to perform that 'sure fire cure for the blues' cure. If it works, you'll get my vote.
You didn't win AGAIN?
We're so not friends anymore.
that friking made my day!!!!. honestly ur god.
I totally understand your frustration in this situation, but I really don't see how any of those reasons you listed were actually reasons. It was more like a collection of random facts.
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