Earthquake Video *UPDATE*

So I just got a call from NBC News (national, not local), asking about my video. They wanted to know why my shirts don’t move in the background.

I’m going to come clean here.

I don’t know, I’m not a seismologist. But this video is obviously real. I am so sick of people accusing me of being a liar or trying to make a video as a joke!

Why would I do that??

Why is it that everybody thinks this is fake? Are they just jealous of my shirts which I made out of cement and then secured to stationary hangers in my closet with bolts and wires?

Look at the comments on YouTube:

There are some people who think it’s real and I want to thank them for their support, but the rest are just mean. If you think something is fake, then you shouldn’t tell other people. Just keep it to yourself.

Also, I am apparently very unattractive. Especially to 21 year old unemployed women living in England.

Here is my dream scenario of what happened at NBC prior to me receiving this phone call:

Scientist: Well, we just ran the video through our computers, the sounds appear to be real. The shaking is consistent with that of an earthquake, but we can’t explain why the shirts aren’t moving in the background.

Crackerjack NBC Reporter: Hmm, OK. Well, since there isn’t a war (or two) going on and there’s no elections coming up, rather than watch this video the whole way through to the end, I’ll just call this little weasel and try to get a confession out of him!



  1. Hey, ILOVEHOOTIE19987543,

    Too bad your dad didn’t figure out how to fake the orgasm when his foolish tool produced you out of your other dad(DM)’s ass

    Try Dane Cook on MySpace. He’s prolly a lot realer than all this.

    Open up my ass and I’ll let ou-out
    Ma little bay-bee,

  2. Not everyone wears shirts made of iron, but then again, not everyone is safe from the aliens like we are, right?

  3. Hey, maybe the shirts were actually the only things that were moving, and everything else was standing still. Ever think about that? I haven’t.

    Ooooooo! Am I blowin’ your mind, hippies?

  4. Hey, I also noticed that the LA River didn’t flood in your video like it did in the movie. Charlton Heston must be shaking in his grave.

    I think you should fill your room with bobblehead dolls so that you will have plenty of evidence next time. Or maybe you should weaken the structure of your house so that it collapses on you. That’d show ’em.

    That, or quit “ironing” your shirts.

    I think the whole earthquake was a fabrication of the Bush administration, and you are a patsy.

  5. You people are such fucking assholes. It was real, I experienced it, and I can attest to the fact its possible for nothing to move. We had the full 5.4 here in Burbank, and the only thing that moved was the chandelier. We didn’t have to touch ANYTHING after it hit. Leave the guy alone.

  6. I bet you never knew that was what was happening, did you, Dave Matthews Band FannyPacker 5000? You suspected thet you were not “making it happen”, but now you know. Don’t you wish you hadn’t asked, and could just go back to the fantasy world when you weren’t just a worn out man-whore?

    At least it shows he cares.

  7. OMG Eric! I came as soon as I heard. Once I finished, got a drink and smoked a fag, I thought to myself, “I wonder if Eric survived the earthquake. Or what if he was tragically crushed under all those cement shirts I shipped to him last year?! I hope he secured them properly.” I’m glad to see you’re okay.

  8. Hey! My cousin Mario promised me a pair of concrete overshoes if I ever come to Guido Beach again. Can’t wait ’til next Summer!

  9. When I was but a young lad growing up in Epicenter, CA, I was often frightened of earthquakes. You’d think my parents would have known better than to move to a town with such a ominous name, but alas, they were but illiterate immigrants who snuck into this country without even bothering to learn the language first. I guess that’s an ongoing trend with those “types.”

    Anyway, when the shaking would get particularly shaky, my moeder would tell me in her filthy Dutch dialect, “Don’t worry, mijn kleine, when the Earth shakes, it is just God’s tummy rumbling.”

    Now, in addition to being frightened at all the shaking, I was also confused. “Moeder, why does God’s belly rumble? Is he hungry? Is he sick? If he’s God, shouldn’t he never be sick or hungry? As a matter of fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize that your explanation is at best problematic and at worst a bald-faced fabrication. Just because I’m six years old, you shouldn’t feel that you have to placate me or talk down to me as if I don’t have a fully formed and functional brain in my head. For shame, moeder. For shame.”

    After that, she would usually hit me hard on the head with a wooden shoe. Now I has learned to not ask too much questions about stuff. It’s God’s plan.

    Hi, Ginger!

  10. Sounds like ye’ olde mommy never told you what’s really happening when the earth quakes. You’re so sexiliciously naive. And Dutch.

  11. Actually, I’m only half Dutch. My father was from Sweden. He became a fairly famous chef, but he was heavily criticized in the press for his messy cooking technique and his heavy Swedish accent that was apparently hard to understand by most Americans when watching his popular television show. This would prove to be his downfall, and after time, his immense popularity waned, and he sunk into alcoholism with the help of an endless supply of vodka.

    I remember on his deathbed, after his liver had final given out, his final words to me were, “Herndie shmerndie doo, der hnoo de boondie. Bork bork!”

    The simple wisdom of his statement still haunts me to this day.

  12. I think I’ve actually seen reruns of your dad’s show. Wasn’t he “The Frugal Gourmet”–renowned Swedish chef and child molester”?

  13. Well, he did make me constantly “pack his Swedish meatballs,” if that’s what you’re getting at.

    With my mouth.

    They were ever so salty…

  14. And just what was your father’s take on earthquakes? I mean, maybe that was part of his drinking problem. He was a chef, wasn’t it his desire to silence all rumbling tummies–even the tummy of God? Did you ever put yourself in his shoes–try to see things from his point of view?

    BTW, sometime you’ll have to show me the proper way to pack a swedish meatball.

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