contributing writer to Laughspin.
humorist for Riled Up Journal.
stand-up.

creator of the original @Bill_Nye_tho twitter.
@love_that_Goku
@OfficerMoses
@DilbertButGay

Cat Skeleton, a digital and print humor zine by me and Colin Burgess.

http://lucasreviewseverything.tumblr.com

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How To Tell Crocodiles and Alligators Apart

Originally written for RiledUpJournal.com

Crocodiles and alligators - sometimes it’s hard to tell which one is which! It might seem like there are more similarities between them than differences, which is why it’s so tricky telling them apart. They both have long tails, bumpy backs and they both hate when you set fireworks off next to them, but there are a few basic differences between the two and once you learn them, it’s actually pretty simple to know what you’re looking at.

First and foremost, the alligator’s head is wider than the crocodile’s, and more u-shaped. You can spot a crocodile by it’s v-shaped, narrow skull. The teeth are a big giveaway as well. The fourth tooth on each side of a crocodile’s mouth sticks up over the top lip, so you can see these teeth even when the animal’s mouth is closed. When a gator’s mouth is shut, you cannot see their teeth.

A quick personal note before we continue: One difference between crocodiles and alligators is that an alligator has never attacked me and partially devoured my legs, whereas last week, when I went on vacation in Florida, a crocodile attacked me and partially devoured my legs.

Alligators live in freshwater environments and are typically pretty sedentary animals, whereas crocodiles are just huge assholes and will try to eat your legs for basically no reason. Another thing to note when trying to tell the difference between an alligator and crocodile, is that alligators have very dark, blackish-grayish skin, whereas crocodiles should be quarantined on an island and bombed with poison.

Another tip-off is the feet. If you look at an alligator’s feet, you’ll notice that they’re webbed. But with crocodiles, you shouldn’t even try to look at their feet at all because while you’re doing that they’ll probably try to bite your legs off for fun. On a similar note, there are also some key differences in the diet of each animal as well. The alligator eats small fish, worms, insects and small reptiles, whereas the crocodile prefers to just feast on your human legs if you try to photograph it with flash on. The crocodile also eats wild boar and deer, just to be a dick.

If all else fails, a pretty quick way to tell the difference between an alligator and a crocodile is to use the “Alligators Rule” test, which is when you yell at the animal: “Alligators rule!!” If it looks angry and gets all pouty like a little bitch then it’s probably a crocodile. If it smiles a little and nods, as if to say “right!?,” you’ve got an alligator on your hands. If you try this technique and it IS a crocodile, remember that you have to very quickly say “I was just kidding, and the way I actually feel is that crocodiles rule!”

Thanks you for reading my cover letter and I hope you consider me for this position as the Director of Aeronautics at NASA.

My Worst Break-up

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When my first girlfriend Tamara dumped me to be with an older boy named Dave, I felt like someone had shot me in the chest with an arrow, because earlier that day I had accidentally shot myself in the chest with an arrow. Tamara left me to be with an older boy named Dave, and I fell into a deep depression. The whole world seemed less vibrant. Colors weren’t as bright. Food didn’t taste as good, and throwing it on the floor because I didn’t like it wasn’t as satisfying as usual. I couldn’t even sleep at night, because I was too busy hanging out outside Tamara’a house.

Tamara was the most attractive girl I had ever met. She even made ordinary things look sexy. Just boring, everyday things, like eating a banana or walking around in the nude somehow became erotic when she did them. When we would make love, it was like our souls left out of our bodies and embraced each other, and then had sex.

I was on my most gentlemanly behavior around her. I would open doors for her and throw her coat down over puddles and generally just cater to her every need. When she would point out a spider on the wall I would kill it and she would thank me. When she pointed out a dog or stray housecat I would kill it and she would get mad. Eventually I realized that just because she pointed at an animal, that didn’t mean she wanted me to kill it.

I had this perfect fantasy about how we would live our life together. We would buy a nice house on a quiet, peaceful street. There would be this most gorgeous white picket fence out front, built around the statue she would help build of me. We would have four beautiful children and let her mother raise them.

When we split up, the recovery process was long and brutal. I fell into a pit of despair, and by that I mean I fell into a literal pit, because I was too busy thinking about Tamara to notice that I was about to walk into a pit. As I lay at the bottom of the pit feeling bad for myself, I eventually realized something - This was a metaphor. If I could climb out of this pit, I could overcome anything. Suddenly, escaping the pit became everything to me. I picked myself up, looked up towards the surface and felt a rush of adrenaline. I had the eye of the tiger, playing on my Zune. I doubted myself for a second, but I shook it off and prepared to scale the walls of the dark, unforgiving pit. I reached for rocks, vines and whatever else I could grip to hoist myself. Small step by small step, I finally made it to the surface and back to civilization. I rolled onto safe ground, stood up and looked back down into the pit, just taking a minute to bask in the private glory of my achievement. A few minutes later I accidentally walked into the pit again. 

The next day, after the fire department had helped me out of the pit, I was more depressed than ever. I decided to take a walk to do some thinking, and that’s when I accidentally fell into the pit again. After I was rescued from the pit, I vowed that this was the last straw. I HAD to turn my life around. I decided to focus my energy on my career and on my health. I began pursuing my dream job, I quit drinking and smoking, and I started jogging. It was after I started on this new path that the most astounding thing happened to me - I accidentally jogged into the pit. Eventually the city decided to fill the pit so that no one could fall into it anymore. And that’s when I knew I had won - I had finally overcome the biggest hurdle of my life. That was a huge relief, because I could start drinking and smoking again. Later that day I accidentally walked into a different pit. I was able to get out of that pit because it wasn’t as deep as that first pit, but on the way home, I fell into another pit.

The fist time you walk into a pit, you’re like, “Well, this can happen to anyone.” The second time you walk into a pit you’re like “Okay, this is a little embarrassing.” By the third pit you’re like, “I mean, really?”

But luckily, I eventually learned something very important - all that it really takes to heal, is time. All these years later, I have finally forgotten about Tamara, but I have to admit that sometimes at night when I’m looking at the moon, I find myself wondering if, at that exact moment, she’s out there somewhere watching the same documentary about the moon that I am. But I am 99% healed. I don’t even think of her when I fall into pits anymore. I just think, “Alright Lucas, how are you going to get out of this pit?” Then I call the fire department again, because I need them to come help me out of the pit.

Lucas Reviews the John Deere GX85 riding lawnmower

lucasreviewseverything:

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the John Deere GX85 riding lawnmower has been my main source of transportation ever since i pawned my car a month ago and couldn’t find the pawn shop again. i’m not gonna waste any time here - the GX85 is a hunk of shit automobile. we’re talkin’ awful gas mileage and a ride about as…

COOL ASS ANIMAL OF THE WEEK: TURRITOPSIS DOHRNII (TYPE OF JELLYFISH THAT DON’T DIE)

Originally posted on RiledUpJournal.com

aight aight fuck an intro y’all already kno who it is comin thru with another guess post. what up RiledUpJournal.com. good ass website. tonight i’m debutin my new regular column called COOL ASS ANIMAL OF THE WEEK. today we’re talkin about the turritopsis dohrnii, a very special species of jellyfish discovered in the 80’s that don’t die.

one morning this German ass dude named Christian Sommer was snorkelin in i think the Mediterranean to find hydrozoans (little ass invertebrates that look like coral). he ain’t even kno at the time but he accidentally caught a Turritopsis dohrnii jellyfish and put it in a tank to study it and for the most part it just seemed like a regular jellyfish or whatever. like it reproduced asexually (i.e. it don’t need to smash to have babies) and it was a bunch of tentacles on the bottom of it, but then Christian seen some shit that made him go “aight hold up man.” the little homie ain’t ever die.

a turritopsis dohrnii jellyfish got the ability to return to a polyp state so like basically, after it gets growed up and starts to look beat it can just become a shorty again whenever and then get old again and then young again over and over again for life. basically the homie just fucks with the entire life cycle like “shit is a game to me.” in this sense the Turritopsis dohrnii is biologically immortal. whatchy’all know about that

don’t get it twisted tho man like even tho they’re impervious to age related death they can still get laid out by other animals or wash up on shore or get sucked into boat engines and shit so they still get bodied like all the time but they aint ever die in a natural causes situation. scientists never seen shit like this before and as far as we know there aint any other animal that can just straight up grow the fuck in reverse. for real man a lot of us is still buggin out. 

aight i’m done with the article i’m out

HOW TO MAKE SURE YOUR AZALEAS DONT DIE

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Originally written for RiledUpJournal.com

aye it’s ya mans @Bill_Nye_Tho comin thru with a guest post real quick shout out to Riled Up Journal. Reilly Capps my man whattup. today i would like to discuss a topic thats very dear to my heart- makin sure azaleas don’t die. last week my favorite plant Azalea Banks died because i flew out to Miami for a climate change conference and i forgot to hire somebody to water her. rest in peace Azalea Banks u was literally my best friend. i don’t usually like to air my feelings out on the web or whatever. i really ain’t wit that at all but i been bummin and i need to talk through some shit and i figure the only way to honor homegirl memory is to 1.) make sure y’all know how to be there for ya plants 2.) airbrush “R.I.P. AZALEA BANKS 2013-2013” on a white tee. anyway i already made the tee and it looks like shit idk how to airbrush b. so i’ma try to make this post real good so take notation. aight i’ma do a post

WATER YOUR SHIT BUT NOT TOO MUCH

aye u gotta water ya azaleas man. y’all already been knew i’m sure but y’all gotta be careful not to water too much aight cuz even plants can drown. first time i got an azalea i was a young’n and i ain’t even kno plants can drown and i used to spray homeboy down with a hose for like hours at a time and it got fucked up. make sure ya compost is real damp but u gotta make sure the roots aint soaked too much either. put some water in the soil but make sure it drain properly aight. keep the soil wet but dont waterboard the shit b it’s not that serious.

MAKE SURE YA AZALEA AINT TOO HOT


File:Rhododrendron hirsutum 280603.jpg plants get hot too just like humans so u gotta make sure your azaleas ain’t gettin too hot. azaleas like a temperature of 50-60 degrees fahrenheit. that’s their shit. NOT CELSIUS. dont keep your azaleas at 50 degrees Celsius it’ll fuck em up. also make sure it aint too windy.

FEED LITTLE HOMIE

make sure little homie ain’t hungry man use your brain. if your azaleas got flowers fallin off an shit they prolly hungry so you gotta get some good fertilizer like cottonseed meal or any acid-forming fertilizer. youre supposed to feed azaleas right after they bloom or whatever but honestly it dont matter that much man you can feed em pretty much whenever as long as you aint givin em the wrong shit. any commercial azalea food is aight.

B
RING YOUR AZALEA IN THE CRIB WHEN IT GET COLD


when fall come around you gotta bring your azaleas back in the crib b. do NOT leave your shit outside in the colder months or the frost will kill it and that shit is a shame. too many plants gettin bodied by frost. i’m not about it. keep your azaleas nice and warm in the fall and winter months by bringing em indoors. unless you aint got heat or whatever then it really dont matter cuz your house is basically the outdoors anyway. you know what… just dont grow azaleas if your own living situation ain’t right or they prolly gonna die man its fucked up but it’s true.

and yo that’s about it. pretty much a good rule of thumb is if its good for you its good for your azaleas you feel me. you gotta be warm but not too warm. you gotta drink water but you cant drown yourself either. try to look at your azaleas like “yo i brought this shit into the world and i got responsibility now i can’t be fuckin around its time to be a man.” take care of your plants b you a grown ass man.

aight i’m out good luck

Worst Fashion Moments in Science this Week

Originally written for RiledupJournal.com

What’s up fashion freakers!? A lot happened in science these past few days, so I think it’s the perfect time to unveil my new weekly column, in which I recap all the biggest fashion faceplants in science! While some achieved true garment glory, others came out looking like some real criminals of the cloth! Here are this week’s worst offenders.

Atlas V launch-site armadillo

Space-heads caught a glimpse of this little guy when he showed up at the launch site of the Atlas V rocket (you can catch him at :23 of this video), but our 4-legged friend here stood out for all the wrong reasons! The Atlas V armadillo came out looking not-so-camera-ready, and has left a lot of people wondering if he’s okay. Blech! Looks like Atlas V armadillo should have stayed out of the spotlight this week! Talk about a fashion misfire! Laundry must have came early for this fashion flunkie!

Norovirus

It’s hard to pull off purple - You either can or you can’t. I think you know which camp norovirus falls into. This unflattering snapshot hit the web this past week when scientists announced that they’ve developed a vaccine that reduces symptoms of the norovirus, including vomiting and diarrhea, by 52 percent. Which is good news, because THIS picture of the norovirus makes ME want to vomit! And get diarrhea! Looks like purple is not your color, norovirus.

United States Army explosive ordnance disposal robot

Now THAT is one unfuckable robot!

JEROS, the robot that kills jellyfish

Speaking of robots, here’s another dreadful mechanical mess! Check out this disgusting picture of JEROS (a Korean robot built to detect and eliminate jellyfish in areas where they are a problem) looking like a real slump-hog! Too bad JEROS can’t “detect” a decent look! Looks like JEROS should take a break from eliminating jellyfish and eliminate his entire wardrobe instead, because I think it’s time to start fresh. JEROS was spotted wearing this metal mess of an outfit that doesn’t do anything for its already unremarkable figure. Talk about beat. Yikes. JEROS takes the #1 spot as the worst dressed in science this week.

Check back next weekend for next week’s recap of the biggest fashion duds in science.

UPDATE: This column has been permanently canceled as per a unanimous vote by the rest of the Riled Up staff.

My First Week on Plastic Island

Originally posted on RiledUpJournal.com

It’s been exactly a week since I moved to Plastic Island (more formerly known as the Great Pacific Garbage Patch). Only very small areas of the garbage patch are dense enough to actually live on so space is limited, but I’ve been making do. I think my favorite part of living on Plastic Island is that there’s no rent and there are plenty of resources. I’d say the worst part is probably all of the garbage.

Plastic Island is located in the northern Pacific, right in the slimy heart of the Pacific Subtropical Gyre, a spiral of currents where millions of pounds of trash have accumulated. There are actually two massive bodies of trash in the Gyre - the Western and Eastern Pacific Garbage Patches (the beef between the hip-hop scenes on the West and East coast garbage islands has become violent. A lot of people have died.)

One cool thing about being one of the few people who lives on the garbage island is that when I do pretty much anything, I’m the first person here to do it. I was the first person on the garbage island to run a 5k. I was the first person on the garbage island to release a Reggaeton album and I have basically established the entire Reggaeton scene. I was the first person on the garbage island to be arrested for wire fraud.

People have a lot of questions. “Can you raise a family here?” My personal answer is no, because there’s no education system and I am impossible to love, but overall it’s not a bad place to live. It’s a give-and-take here. On the one hand, there’s a real strong sense of community, everyone watches each other’s back, and we have a great night life here (even though most of our clubs are very poorly reviewed on Yelp). On the other hand - the garbage.

There’s not much crime to worry about. Littering is a big issue on Plastic Island and I really started a bad trend with the wire fraud thing, but on the whole it’s pretty safe. The average life expectancy on the trash island is three-weeks-after-however-old-you-were-when-you-moved-here, so I guess I’m looking at the end here, but I’m enjoying myself

Some people actually think I should be ashamed for living on a gigantic garbage mass, but I’m proud of myself for “makin’ it” here. The way I see it is, I could live for next-to-nothing on a safe and peaceful, unpretentious floating trash pile, or I could still be back home in the “civilized” world, living in that regular trash pile that I used to live on. Where people are snobby and judge me for living in trash. Where I’m not even an established Reggaeton artist.

I like it just fine here, and I plan to live out the rest of my two weeks of life happily.