Google Is a Barcode, the End is Nigh

Mark this day on your calendar, kids.  October 7, 2009, the day shit got real.  We’ve long known society wasn’t long for this world and that one day a cataclysm of pant staining proportions was going to smother us like a fat woman on the face of a dude at a fat woman face sitting fetish porn website.  The only real question about the fate of humanity was what would do us in.  Would it be zombie apocalypse as Cracked.com would have us believe?  Would it be hyper intelligent, kill-obsessed asshole robots as Hollywood would have us believe?  Or would it be swarms of killer bees as logic dictates?

The answer, surprisingly, is all of these things at once.  Curse you, Cracked.com.  You too, bees.  I’m cool with the robots though, because artificial intelligence means not just robot killing machines, but those fuck bots I wrote about earlier in the week.  I’m going to throw caution to the wind and guess that robot vagina is amazing.

Back to the story at hand, you heard right.  FunnyCrave.com has the scoop on doomsday, and it’s killer robot zombie bees or whatever.  You can already see it coming right on the Google homepage.  Go look.  Today only though, by tomorrow the robot zombie bees will have pieced together our resistance plan and changed shit up.  It’ll probably be an old man with a budgie sitting in the G in “Google” tomorrow, but today, Google is a barcode.  A barcode!

Google is known for shaking up the image of their name on the homepage, rumor has it once it was displayed as a tattoo on Lou Ferrigno’s nut.  Can you believe that?  You better, it’s true but wholly unverifiable so best to just tell you friends and leave it at that.  But today, there’s no whimsical G, no pair of Os designed to look like Dr. Phil’s scabby nipples.  There’s just a barcode.  Look at it.

NOOOO!!!!

Our lab guys in the basement tell us that this is the bee zombie robot activation code.  This shit gets scanned in and suddenly your sultry robo vag is shooting out undead honey gathering insects.  How does that make you feel?  If you shit your pants, you have correct feelings.  Anything else implies mental defect.

So humanity, it’s been a good run.  We did good things.  We made pie and cars, we pasteurized milk and we invented strap on dildos.  We took a decent bite at this apple called existence and I for one am going to be brutally murdered by robot bee zombies with my head held high and no regrets, other than I didn’t think of a less painful way to take myself out before bee zombie robots killed and ate me.