Yamaha Vino. It puts reason in rhymes.

The Yamaha Vino 50 is the best machine that I've even used. I've driven every non-M BMW, a Lexus sedan, and many other motorized vehicles. Yet, the German iron and the Japanese limosuine are both simply unperfect compared to the perfect Yamaha Vino 50. The Yamaha Vino 50 is mechanical perfection. Though I've never been in a vintage Rolls-Royce, I think it's apt to make a comparision. The old Rolls-Royces were supposed to be mechinacally perfect. Other cars isolated the driver from the noise, vibrations, and harshness of cars. But a Rolls-Royce was made to be so mechically perfect, so tuned, such a perfect blend of all of the systems that the driver wouldn't need to be isolated from anything. That's what the Yamaha Vino is like. It's splendid. It's sublime. Dues ex machina. Sure, it's slow. It can't go on highways. However, this machine isn't a highway cruiser. It's made for zipping about in a city. You need not exceed 15 miles an hour to have oodles of fun. This Yamaha Vino is the least expensive mechanically perfect machine available. It makes every grocery run into a rumpus. I give it 5 awesome-points out of 5 awesome-points.

If the Yamaha Vino were a pay-per-view program, it'd be orphan cage-death-match. It's just that freakin' awesome. 

#9 Stranger than Fiction

Details for the script:

Harold's watch is blue. Global zoom at beginning. The script would call for the narrator to sound like a Limey. Harold Crick must tie his tie in a single windsor knot. He must wear a suit. Harold Crick's tooth brushing technique. Harold's walking pace. Which bus Harold catches to work. The location. The time of day. The setting. The cold, sleek, generic city in the background. 

Details added in direction:

Harold has a briefcase. Harold wears a black suit without stripes. Cars stop for Harold, while he's in the crosswalk. The tie Harold wears. The nifty effects that show the numbers. Harold's overcoat. The cubicles at Harold's work. The layout of Harold's apartment. The apple Harold eats for breakfast. The magazine of financial calculators that Harold looks at while on his lunch break. The background noise at Harold's office. 

#8 Drug Transactions

Lest the door opens in

Six feet between dead and me

Will stay at six feet

The fool has no cash

The last caress is cold steel

Red walls drip with blood

Way over yonder

Over hills, in foliage 

Rests the off-white cache

#7 Holiday!

My holiday is the Anti-Valentine day. It's for all the people who like to be dark and wear the red and black clothes. I think it's wrong that we should have them suffer happiness without reciprocation. So, I'll permit them to talk about their poems, failed relationships, parents, siblings, futility of existence, and shit-music. 

Every normal person will dress up in the skeleton outfit things just to fit in and gain an appreciation (strictly in the 'experience' sense) for all the emos/scene/what have you/emotional flavor-of-the-day term. 

The colors are red and black (surprise!). To get in the Anti-Valentine sort of spirt (or lack thereof) one must think about the meaning of Valentines day and write down their thoughts. Then you must cry (tears or blood) on the paper. Then you can show the stained paper to all your friends on the Anti-Valentine day. Then you can listen to bad bands like Within Temptation, My Chemical Romance, Scary Kids Scaring Kids, Escape the Fate, Senses Fail, Underoath (guilt by association). 

All non-emo music will be banned. This is to ensure the participants' safety. It's a well known fact that Lamb of God, Metallica, Tool, Rage Against the Machine, Amon Amarth, Job For a Cowboy, and other metal bands will melt emo germs. 

After the poetry has been recited and the last tears shed, all -- well, most -- of us can go back to being normal and not-emo. 

This holiday has been imagined because I bear animosity towards the poorly articulated emotions, tight jeans on guys, hair straighteners, highlights, hating ones parents, and contempt for being upper-middle class. Problems are opportunities and, often times, deserved. Go fix 'em. Don't wallow in a dark room and theorize about a inherently false prognosis on the human condition. 

#6 Important Law

My law would bring back gladiator combat. It would let consenting prisoners battle each other and the winner gets to leave prison and is places on parole. I envision a pay-per-view sort of system. Each prisoner-battle is a melee of 20 prisoners. The winner (the last person alive) gets their almost-freedom. The PPV revenues would be used to cover the costs of the event and the surplus would be redirected back the prison system. This law is good because it reduces the problem of prison overcrowding, by eliminating up to 19 inmates per match. This law encourages criminals to not crime again; if you put your life on the line for something (freedom), you aren't going to squander it. This law also helps prisoners reintegrate into society. A major problem for the released is finding unemployment after release. If the fights were to become popular, the winners would become famous, they might earn endorsement deals. An endorsement deal would give them enough income to not have to commit crimes to subside. This law is made of the people (who aren't the democratic-"this interferes with criminals' rights-"America-haters ), by the people (who like kick-ass things), for the people (well, prisoners: not exactly people. Oh! And not-prisoners' potential entertainment).

#5 Creature Thing

Behold! The Leviathan! This creature is the antiquity of a old, wicked world. The Old Gods created it to keep Earth separated from the spirits of the ethereal. Oden inscribed "Nos constructutum is adveho nex." Translated to "we built this come death." It feeds upon lost souls and all who enter the Great Sea. They say if one can kill the beast, the slayer becomes divine. Of course, you'd have to kill it. That's damn near impossible. It shimmers in the color of the black abyss: the hue defaces light. The skin is scarred after an eternity of being scratched by the death grip of the departed. There's only one of these Leviathans. The beast has no master as no force can control it, nor compel it. Rather, it subsides on a holy charge. Don't get the wrong impression. It's very docile and friendly. It's docile unless you enter the Great Sea. And it's friendly insofar you befriend creatures that shouldn't be of this world. 

#4 Underground Orphan Fighting League

New to Minneapolis, orphan fighting. Come down to the Xcel Energy Center this Saturday and Sunday and witness -- for the first time ever in Minnesota -- orphan fighting! You've smoked cigarettes. You've seen CSI. You've spent money to feed malnourished children. Now you can do almost all of the aforementioned at once. The murder â La CSI. The winning orphan gets to eat! The losing orphan, if they're still alive, gets burnt by a lit cigarette. 

They have no rights. They're not even people. Don't you want to watch the not-people fight to the death for your amusement and their own sustenance? 

If you don't, you're unAmerican. 

So, remember, bring the family down to the Xcel Energy Center this Saturday and Sunday!

Kids' seats are still just five bucks!

Warning: The American Association of Orphan fighters reserves the right to impress all children in the venue who are under the age of seven.