12 Adorable Baby Boys That Will Melt Your Heart

Infancy is a world of wonder. It’s full of curiosity, awe, discovery, imagination, hope, and new life. In a world that at times may seem harsh, jaded, cynical, and unimaginative, the smile of a newborn baby can be a breath of fresh air. For these reasons, we’ve compiled twelve photos of darling bouncing baby boys to brighten your day.

A Comprehensive Guide to Men’s Bathroom Etiquette

There’s a right time and a wrong time to discuss the pee pee shivers.

If you have a Y chromosome and have ever been stricken with the urgent need to urinate in Midway International Airport, then you would probably agree that the state of men’s bathroom etiquette in the United States is alarming.  Even in the 21^st century, urinalgoers and toiletsitters still routinely disregard the fundamental principles of propriety and respect in the bathroom, resulting in a horrifying number of unwanted junk viewings and uncomfortable verbal exchanges.  In a desperate effort to rectify this social epidemic (henceforth referred to as “The Great Discomfort”), we here at Sherman Ave have developed a comprehensive guide to bathroom etiquette.

Part I: When and how did The Great Discomfort originate? 

            Many trace The Great Discomfort back to the New Deal under President Roosevelt in the 1930s.  One agency created was the Public Works Administration, which was responsible for, well, public works, including many public buildings large enough to necessitate large public bathrooms.  We’re not really sure how this developed into today’s current predicament, but we generally like blaming problems on large government programs and bureaucratic expansion, because of the logic.

Part II: Who is responsible for The Great Discomfort?

            Although social scientists, cultural anthropologists, and ethnographers have spent decades discussing the finer nuances of these wiener-displaying culprits, the answer is really pretty simple: Old people.  Indeed, the most gruesome perpetrators of the Great Discomfort are typically old men who trounce through public bathrooms, trying to make small talk and making no attempt to shield your eyes from their wrinkly, wrinkly manbags.  Here are some of the most common characteristics of the old people who will make your bathroom experience more uncomfortable than that time you watched the rock opera Tommy with your estranged uncle:

• AARP membership
• Florida license plate
• Pocketful of Werther’s wrappers
• Copy of “The Greatest Generation” by Tom Brokaw
• Tendency to loudly announce snap judgments about minorities
• A “Thurmond-Wright ‘48” pin on his knapsack

Of course, America’s grave-fillers aren’t the only ones capable of generating bathroom awkwardness.  Other renowned etiquette-violators include well-meaning janitors, pants-dropping children, and gay-bashing senators.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that you had to watch the Cubs piss away another afternoon.

Part III: Where is The Great Discomfort most volatile?

            As you may have guessed, The Great Discomfort is most potent in public environments.  With the exception of those times years ago when your father kicked down the door while you were peeing and fired off two dozen Roman Candles to threaten you into trying out for the football team instead of auditioning for the local productions of Cats, almost all negative bathroom experiences occur in some kind of public setting and stem from other people being heinous.  Even so, some public places seem to attract the uncomfortable bathroom crowd.  Listed below are some of the most notable hotspots for toilet creepers*.

• Baseball games.  Setting aside the crowd of drunken overweight 30-somethings who are still trying to relive their glory days playing 3^rd base for Boise North High School, the urinal troughs create a toxic environment (literally and figuratively) for bathroom-goers seeking peace and quiet.  You’d think that in a society so focused on individual rights, we wouldn’t all have to piss in the same damn basin like a bunch of mangy socialist taintlords.
• Airports.  Just because you aren’t fellating Larry Craig doesn’t mean that you’re home free.  Airport bathrooms are grotesque because they combine the feel of a high-stress environment (businessmen hurrying to their flights, children hurrying to the shitty airport store, pilots hurrying to get moderately intoxicated at the airport bar) with a crowd of people in travel mode (read: That guy who brushes his teeth in the airport bathroom).  The result is a violent collision of cultures, which inevitably translates to – you guessed it – awkwardness in the bathroom.
• Truck Stops.  For a second, we can ignore the fact a truck stop bathroom is dirtier than the International Mud Wrestling Convention held in Mumbai; the discomfort stems only partially from the inherent dirtiness of the bathroom.  What is even deadlier is the clash of the trucker, who traditionally views a truck stop bathroom stall as a 15-minute escape from the endless yellow lines of I-80, and the standard driver or passenger, who views a truck stop bathroom stall as a 20-second sacrifice to avoid a urinary tract infection.

Target practice.

Part IV: How can The Great Discomfort be curbed?

            After hours of pain-staking research and heated discussion, we have deconstructed the problem at hand and divided it into a handful of simple and digestible tips (no pun intended?) on how to avoid flagrant violations of bathroom etiquette.

• Minimize conversation.  There is a time and a place for everything, and the time and place for small talk is at church picnics and Starbuck’s service counters.
• Minimize awkward conversation.  It’s one thing to talk about the weather to a dude while he’s deflating his pelvic panther, but it’s another to ask him about his ailing grandmother.  There is really just a very limited selection of appropriate conversations that can occur between two men holding their porkswords.
• Minimize grunting.  For fuck’s sake, this isn’t a women’s tennis match.  No one wants to be in the bathroom at the same time as the guy whose defecation process is so intense that it necessitates sound effects comparable to Chewbacca being fisted by King Kong.
• Wash your hands.  This shouldn’t require much explanation.  If you just peed in a urinal, then you just touched your glorystick, which means you should wash your hands.  I’m looking at you, hippies.
• Eyes ahead.  There is nothing more awkward than someone peeing at a full row of urinals whilst aggressively staring at the person to his left or right.  I’d rather have the Eye of Sauron watch me empty the steel eel than have the Eye of Creepy Tall German Guy watch me whip it out.  YES, GERMANS.  I’M CALLING YOU OUT.
• Wait to whip.  Among the most atrocious bathroom crimes is the “Early Exposure,” or the act of completely whipping out your dick before even reaching a urinal.  It is incredibly traumatizing to finish a good piss, turn around to wash your hands, and be accosted by a random dude’s shlong.  Seriously, it’s horrifying, unnecessary, and impossible to unsee, much like the movie “Deliverance.”
• Execute Proper Urinal Placement.  This is the trickiest of these tips to master, because there is truly a science behind urinal placement.  Essentially, this is the rule of thumb: Always attempt to leave at least one urinal between yourself and the nearest bathroom-goer.  Above all, don’t be the guy that bypasses an entire row of empty urinals to occupy the urinal adjacent to the only other occupied urinal.  Just don’t do it.  It’s really hurtful and often leads to severe emotional distress.

So, men of the world, take heed.  With proper attention and care, this social crisis can be corrected.  With each drop of golden elixir that you excrete from your bodies, you have the opportunity to be a catalyst for progress.  Never forget that just one person can make a difference, even if it’s something as small as refraining from asking an adjacent bathroom-goer what he thinks of 50 Shades of Grey.

*Yes, Toilet Creepers was the name of my band in high school.  Those days are behind me, despite the fact that our hit single “Snake Jelly on my Fingertips” would have easily gone platinum had it gotten better exposure.
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Badasses in History: Rasputin

When someone uses the phrase “historical figure” you can usually make two assumptions. First, that the person is probably complaining about a paper they have to write (complaining makes everything better); and second, that the “historical figure” in question is probably dead.

We only tend to refer to people as “historical figures” if they’ve been dead for at least half a century or so (sorry Amy Winehouse, but you’ll have to wait). Unfortunately, we can’t be so sure about this week’s Historical Badass. You see, our guy has this thing about cheating death.

Looks like an unholy cross between Steve Buscemi and Marilyn Manson

That’s right, I’m talking about Rasputin, the Mad Monk. Before we get into the whole “this-guy-just-won’t-die-he’s-the-devil-save-us-Jesus” bit, it’s time to provide some background.

But first check out his picture.

Yeah, this dude was one crazy motherfucker. Look into those eyes and tell me you don’t see a gateway to nightmares and years of serious trauma therapy. I don’t think we ever get to see a dementor’s eyes, if it even has them. But if it does, that’s what I think they look like.

I think I’m going to need a drink before this article is over, but we’ll keep going for the moment.

*Deep breath*

Alright. Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin was born in 1869 in the small town of Pokrovskoye, Siberia. Upon exiting the womb, he reportedly cackled and wrote up a pact with the Devil then and there. His parents, understandably concerned, tried to enroll him in the local preschool, but historical texts tell us the effort stalled slightly when the school was inexplicably sucked into another dimension while little Cthulhu sat nearby baking muffins.

Years went by and the wee lad Grigori prospered, and by prospered, I mean got way scarier. Like the kid in that movie The Omen, or a teenage Tom Riddle, Rasputin seemed destined for a pale complexion and dead, soulless eyes with a presence that made small children cry and grown men shit themselves with terror.

Eventually, Rasputin joined a monastery and “found God”—I don’t know what god he found, but it sure wasn’t a happy one—at which point events elsewhere conspired to bring him into the limelight.

Rasputin modeling how to properly smize

As it turned out, the family members of the Czar Nicholas II often sickened and died at fairly young ages, and the Czar understandably wanted to see if someone could fucking do something about it. Shamans, old ladies with “homeopathic medicine,” and even real doctors tried to find out why and affect a cure, but all failed.

As history informs us, the problem was hemophilia, but since today’s pharmaceutical clusterfuck of drugs was unavailable at the time, there wasn’t much that could be done. Making matters even more interesting, bleeding was a common treatment at the time. Yep. Perhaps the one thing that couldn’t possibly make things worse was being used to treat the Czar’s family.

Here it is expressed as a formula: Bleeding+Hemophilia=Lots of Dead People

Rasputin however, claimed to have the answer. And thanks to his deal with the Devil, he soon became a close confidant for the Czar’s family, especially Czar Nicholas’ wife, Alexandra, who grew to regard Rasputin as her closest adviser after he affected “miraculous” cures. She had so much belief in his powers that she believed God spoke through him.

You can guess how that went over.

His immense influence on the family, and thus on Russia’s ruling policies, was not well regarded by a number of men who thought they could do a far better job of fucking things up than Rasputin, so — doing what all Russian politicians do in a time of upheaval and doubt — they decided to kill the guy they felt was responsible.

Strangely, the animated Rasputin looks slightly more human than the real Rasputin did

Things got started when the former prostitute Khionia Guseva attacked Rapustin as he was exiting a church. She stabbed him and cut open his stomach. Eyewitness accounts tell us that Rasputin looked at the wound, flipped off the sky, then healed up Wolverine-style and went out to lunch at the Russian version of Denny’s.

It was then that Rasputin received a lovely dinner invitation from Prince Felix Yusupov, who totally wasn’t going to try to kill him. For some reason Old Grigori accepted the invitation and arrived wearing a batman cape. Taking him down to the cellar, the nobles fed Rasputin tons of food, all laced with cyanide, better known to us today as a rat poison.

Now, this would kill fucking anybody. Rasputin however, shrugged it off like nothing, all the while telling his favorite knock-knock jokes. They must have been bad ones to, because one guy got so pissed off that he shot Rasputin in the back.

The dude blinked less than even Dick Cheney

Relieved that he was finally dead, the nobles started to go off to their coaches, when one idiot realized he’d forgotten his coat. When he went to grab it, Rasputin leaped off the floor like that possessed chick in The Exorcist. Freaked the fuck out, the bastards shot Grigori three more times.

Was he dead?

Nope. The crazy fucker still kept trying to go after them, so they all grabbed clubs and gave him a prison-style beatdown. They then wrapped his body in a sheet and tossed it in the icy — actually, all rivers in Russia are icy — Neva River.

Days later, when Rasputin’s body was found, full of poison, bullet holes, and clubbing wounds, the mortician determined the cause of his death.

Take a guess about what finally killed this preposterously insane fucknut. No really, I’ll wait.

…

Yep. The cause of death was drowning. He had even broken out of the sheet and tried to swim… with four gunshot wounds and broken bones.

By the way, one of the shots was through his forehead. Yeah.

What. The. Fuck.

To be fair, autopsy reports differ, and several were done on Rasputin with different conclusions, but this is the one I’m going with because, frankly, it’s that badass.

–Josh Kopel