Since the April 20th explosion of the Deepwater Horizon offshore oil rig, massive amounts of oil have been spewing out of the ruptured oil well. Executives are testifying before Congress, and the battle of public opinion is currently being waged. Who should be blamed? Who should you hate? Well, wyvern920 is here with all the answers, as always.

There are three possible companies to blame that are involved with this mess: BP, Halliburton, and Transocean. BP is an oil company, Halliburton is a domestic oil driller (and in no way deals with Iraq or Afghanistan. You're probably thinking of KBR, which was spun off of Halliburton in 2007 – apparently because they had a poor reputation for some reason), and Transocean is the company that leases the oil rigs. BP leased the oil rig from Transocean, and hired Halliburton to perform the drilling procedures. Transocean also assists Halliburton with the day-to-day operations. Schlumberger provides the drills to Halliburton used in the excavation for the oil rig that Transocean leases to BP. The oil that is collected is property of BP, who sells it on the futures market. Confused yet? Good. All you need to know is that it's BP's fault, because I don't really like BP. There are just some companies that I dislike immensely, even though they've never done anything to me, and BP is one of them. Seriously, they can eat a bag of it.

Lost in this discussion is the real impact of the oil spill. No, it doesn't stress the need to switch to green technology, including solar and wind. Who cares that animal habitat is being decimated? I don't really care that the economy of Louisiana is being adversely affected. I'm glad that the white sand beaches of Alabama are being tarnished. No, what's really the tragedy in all this is the loss of all that precious oil. America salutes you, wasted and unburned freedom fuel.

Well, friends, it's that time of year again. I hope you are all enjoying a romantic evening with your loved ones as much as I enjoy my romantic evening with chocolates, a bottle of wine and soy dogs.

In the spirit of posting a hilarious link that will warm hearts, I want to share the writings of Smoove B, Love Man, self-proclaimed "king of seduction" and lover of succulent strawberries dipped in fine chocolate. He shows us the true meaning of love, which goes much further than Valentine's Day. Enjoy.

First and foremost, I'd like to apologize to anyone who may have grabbed a waning-seconds-of-Christmas gift idea off last year's list; if said gift resulted in a) your Facebook relationship status suddenly becoming "single," b) your incarceration, or c) tears, I profoundly, deeply don't give a fuck.

That said, boys and girls, it's time for Burson's (On-Time) Holiday Gift Guide 2009®, the long-awaited and much ballyhooed tome that assures those on your list get the gift equivalent of a kick in the jock. Looking to tell your girl it's over? Looking to extend the finger to your boss in gift form? Look no further. Burson's got you covered, both literally and figuratively, and is ready, willing and able to hook you up.

In the intervening year since the inaugural edition of this guide, you may have noticed that everything's kinda gone to shit. Nowadays, you can barely scrape together the two bucks for your dinner of cat food and Olde English, let alone buy gifts . . . what's a boy to do? Considering that everyone's pretty much in the same boat (i.e. "fucked"), the trick is to go practical. A box of Hefty garbage bags should fit the bill; considering that many of your recipients are half a step from homelessness, they'll be well-prepared thanks to you!

Speaking of hard times, in an economic climate such as this one, a less scrupulous individual might be inclined to hit a lick or two. For the stickup kid on your list, I submit for your consideration the Glock 17, a fine handgun guaranteed to make the Plaid Pantry clerk shit him/herself, particularly if equipped with a suppressor, or "silencer," as the kids are calling it these days.

It wouldn't be Christmas if Burson wasn't lamenting the sorry-ass state of his beloved Oakland Raiders. Now he and other Raiders fans can effectively hide from the world with the Raiders Fan Face, an ingenious device that simultaneously displays the ashamed fan's team spirit and obscures his identity from bosses, spouses and parole officers. Though I'm certain that Raiders fans are no strangers to masks (see Glock 17 and suppressor, above), the Fan Face is a true multitasker; a wearer can hit the aforementioned lick and still make it in time for kickoff.

If said Raiders fans want to get that "in-game" experience, they could always check out the Official Raiders Tackle Buddy, which is nearly as easy to tackle as an Oakland receiver. Note that the Tackle Buddy has no hands; also reminiscent of a Raiders wideout.

For those of us on a budget this holiday season, Christmas dinner can be something of a challenge. Nothing takes the spirit out of the season quite like bringing home a family five-pack of WinCo pre-smoked "turkey" legs and some off-brand Jell-O for dessert. Never fear, the good folks at McDonalds have it on lock: McRib is back! Just imagine the bucolic scene when you dash in (through the snow) carrying that festive paper sack of low-grade pig parts slathered in corn syrup . . . okay, stop imagining, you're making everyone sick.

For that special lady in your life (or Savage), try a sequined G-String, complete with garters. Why, you ask, would one purchase such a ludicrously impractical garment during one of the coldest times of year? Why, I ask, would you be asking that, instead of thinking about that special lady filling it out? Seriously, though, I see how those sequins could irritate some of the more sensitive areas that may contact them, so you might want to consider something more plush.

Who hasn't said, presumably after a half-rack of Natural Ice, "wow, I wish I could smell like a country music superstar?" Tim McGraw has just the thing for you, "McGraw" by Tim McGraw cologne. While the description may say some shit about "musky," "woodsy" and "masculine," you can be safe in reading this as "smells like horse rectum." If you're a lady (since you're reading wyvern920.com, you're probably not) looking to outfit her guy with that signature scent, look somewhere else. Unless you want your man whiffing faintly of '83 Firebird transmission fluid and tobacco spit, steer clear.

If you're shopping for a particularly angst-y teenage girl or homosexual gentleman, Jewel's A Night Without Armor may be just what you need. While ordinarily a "night without armor" results in pregnancy, HIV or worse, Jewel leans toward a different interpretation in this abortion of a poetry collection. Will someone save her soul? Fuck if I know, I'm too busy hanging my head in shame for this gift even entering my twisted brain.

Finally, I must express both my joy and sadness at penning this guide. On the one hand, Christmas is a time of reassurance, hope and togetherness; a time when we set aside our troubles and come together. However, the fact that we need gift guides at all speaks to something of a hole in our culture, a deep longing we seek to fill with impossibly grand material goods. With each gift, we try to prove to the recipient how well we know them, how much we love them and how much better we are than them for coming up with aforementioned perfect gift. We tear through the malls like Sherman cutting a path to the sea, clawing over the prone figures of less-devoted shoppers, all to find that ab-so-fucking-lutely perfect gift. It'll make the emptiness go away, right? Ah, fuck it, just stock up on some Kingsford, wrap that shit up, and your gift shopping's complete. Plenty of time to go back to bed, curled up with a bottle of bourbon.

Ah, I'm just pulling your collective leg with that last one (except the bourbon - that's a frickin' fantastic gift). In truth, this is one of my favorite times of year, and I wish you all the best. I hope you all have a wonderful Holiday Season, and whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, or Friday, I wish you and yours the best. Muthafuckas.

Burson . . . out.

I always find it interesting when given the chance to socialize with people my own age, because it gives me a chance to evaluate ways in which I would behave if I were more normal. In most cases I view people as a source of entropy in my life – people are merely sources of randomness than disallow me from maintaining a perfectly ordered system. For you quantum mechanic fans out there, it's a lot like perturbation theory, which I am sure is a phrase that has never been said or written before. People to me are like small perturbations that affect my Hamiltonian. They don't affect it enough to cause a complete breakdown of the wavefunction, but alter it just enough as to affect my various eigenstates. Yeah, you did read that right. I really did just compare the two. In any event, I made mental notes of things that I don't really understand, or simply cannot understand, about people – specifically about people my own age*. 

1. Touching of the genitals – I simply don't understand the necessity to fondle one's genitalia constantly. First of all, it's really gross. Second of all, it's very unhygienic. Thirdly, it's just weird to do it in front of other people. I do realize the special bond between a man and his unit, but I'm pretty sure said unit is not going to run off anywhere. This isn't the Congo – it's not just going to disappear via a witch. I can understand a slight 'rearrangement' is necessary when first sitting down in a sofa, chair, or car seat. No one wants to experience any tugging or crushing. This is the reason why I can't ride a bicycle. But after one gets settled there is no reason for it. Just stop it.
2. Burping – Didn't your mother teach you any good manners? Burping is an unnecessary noise that can easily be prevented by not opening the mouth, thereby silencing the upper esophageal sphincter. Just because it comes from the human body doesn't make it beautiful or desirable. Almost nothing about the human body is beautiful. This is the reason why we invented clothes. Not burping is an easy way to show that you are not 8-years-old anymore. Try not to be a douche.
3. Using coupons – I don't understand the mentality of not using coupons. Perhaps it is because I am frugal, or because I am poor, or both. If I can save a few dollars by giving a cashier a small piece of paper, then I would be a fool not to. It would be one thing if the place you desired to go eat at didn't have any specials, but when they do it's injudicious not to. People have too much money.
4. Spitting – Constantly spitting is a terrible habit that we as a society need stop. Firstly, it's disgusting. Secondly, it leaves your DNA all over the place. Thirdly, people have to walk over it. I even hate spitting personally. The only time I ever spit is after a bout of illness when the nasal passages are clearing themselves, and perhaps some of this blockage needs to escape orally. Otherwise, it's a big no-no. So don't spit, and just be a man and deal with it in a proper and clean manner. If you find yourself overly salivating, then quit thinking about food so much, you fatty.

That's about it. In case you were wondering, yes indeed, I am pretty much perfect in every way.

* Not really written about anyone I know personally**
** No really***
*** Err, yeah

Here is possibly the worst story of the year. I know that the year is young, but it is hard to imagine a worse story than this. A prison inmate on death row plucked out his own eyeball and then proceeded to eat it. I worked hard to find a version of this story that didn't include a photo because, well, eww. Apparently his attorneys argued that the inmate, Andre Thomas, was not mentally competent to stand trial after he yanked out his first eyeball. The judge ruled that his mental stability was in the eye of the beholder, and the trial proceeded, which found Thomas guilty. After being convicted of murder and being sentenced to death, he decided to pluck out his remaining eyeball. I guess it was so enjoyable the first time that Thomas wanted to do it a second time, except he decided to up the ante by consuming his eyeball. This story makes me feel queasy. I think I might go throw up.

Prison guards have vowed to keep their eyes on him. You know, for vigilance and such. There is one thing that I can draw from this story: whether mentally ill or not, his eyes were clearly not bigger than his stomach. 

Just in case you haven't noticed all that snow on the ground, let me be the first to tell you that it's Christmastime. Christmas Day, to be exact. And just in case you're too fucking lazy to have actually done your Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, or belated Ramadan shopping until now, I'm here to help.

Below is the Burson Holiday Gift Guide, giving you access to all the gifts you'll never want. Maybe you just want to say "fuck you" to that special someone, or maybe you never want to be invited back to your neighbor's Boxing Day party. Whatever the case, the following gifts will get your point across.

In the spirit of the season, we'll start off with some Rainbow Snow Snow Spray Snow Color. For a mere $40 (that's right, 40 bucks), you and your children can enjoy the endless pleasure of dying snow strange colors. Why not use diluted food color, at $2.49 per bottle, you say? Shut up. This comes with stencils.

A DVD copy of the 1997 film That Darn Cat from the wonderful folks at Disney. While watching Doug E. Doug "jumping around all nimbly-pimbly" is a sight to behold, there's a few things about this film that relegate it to this list. First off, it's a remake... why this movie would be remade is beyond me. Second, it's not intentionally stupid, like The Cat From Outer Space or something. In short, nothing says "I hate you" quite like the gift of this film. Advantages, however, include the fact that VHS copies are available for as low as $0.01.

For fans of the Oakland Raiders such as myself and, last I checked, Wyv, there's nothing quite like unwrapping a quality-made Daunte Culpepper Raiders replica jersey on Christmas morning. I don't know what's more depressing, the fact that it's on sale for thirty-five bucks, or that the item's caption on The Raider Image says "Be ready for some touchdowns." I think that at this point, they're just being sarcastic.

While we're on the subject of shitty gifts for Raiders fans, one should check out the Raiders Snowman Bottle Cover, on sale for $5.99. I guess that in the end, this is not a terrible gift, since it allows the Raiders fan in question to effectively and discreetly hide their "yet-another-losing-season" drinking from their friends and family. However, said friends and family might wonder why you keep giving oral to a macrame snowman.

For the Star Wars geek on your list, a pair of custom Amidala/Padme White Leather Boots. Though for $249, it seems like an excellent deal, I have a few questions before I buy. Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't most Star Wars geeks male, and thus the wrong gender for such boots? Now, I realize that Padme boots may have their place in certain bedroom settings, but this is assuming one can find a Star Wars geek who is getting some, and getting some from a woman who would be willing to indulge a Star Wars fantasy. I'm guessing this is a limited market, and personally wouldn't buy stock in the Diaz Boot Company. If you're really looking to get your favorite Star Wars geek something special, try a framed print of Natalie Portman and some of this; it's even got shea butter to prevent cracking. You'll save a shit ton of money, and the geek in question will probably be a lot happier.

For that special someone on your list who is a) interested in travel and b) someone who you never want to see again, try a tour package... to Bosnia and Herzegovina. No word on whether or not there's guided "mass-grave discovery" tours, but undoubtedly the recipient of this gift is in for an "explosive" good time, seen as how the Balkans is one of the most heavily landmined regions in the world. (Bonus: Bosnia's official tourism slogan is "The Heart-Shaped Land." Oh the irony...)

Finally, there's a little something for the special lady on our (guys') lists. Now, there are innumerable gifts to get for the girl you never want to see again, and in many ways it's easier to shop for a female you don't like than it is to shop for one you hope to eventually see, or continue seeing, naked. Perfume from the Dollar Tree, kitchen appliances, a jumbo-pack of Trojans, cat food or a bottle of Scrubbing Bubbles are the surest way to sleep alone for a long, long time, but none of these even compares to a Weight Watchers Magazine subscription. Not only will she hate you for the duration of the holiday season, every month she'll be reminded of just how much of a jackass you are when that month's issue shows up in the mailbox. See above for availability of Natalie Portman picture and hand lotion, 'cause you'll be needing them for the next 12 months.

Hopefully some of these help; Lord knows you'll need all the help you can get if you haven't started shopping yet. I wish you all luck, and see below for the Official Wyvern920.com Christmas Post.

It's that time of year again – the time in which I avoid all human contact during my scheduled breaks. I generally spend my days inside my home watching television while crying and drinking cheap boxed red wine. Try to guess which one of those is false. Holidays are pretty great though when spent alone. I have a firm belief that any holiday in which I get the day off is a real holiday. This is why T-Giving, Christmas, New Year's Day, Martin Luther King Jr. Day, Memorial Day, and the 4th of July are real holidays. Veterans Day, Presidents Day, and Columbus Day are not real holidays. In my mind, Black Friday is more of a holiday than Veterans Day. I don't care what war you were in. If I have to wear pants on the given day, then I'm not honouring bupkis. Anyhoo, here's what was occupying my time at any given moment a week ago:

• Why is when something is referred to as being vanilla, it is assumed to be white or plain? Nobody ever mentions that vanilla beans and vanilla extract is actually brown, not white. Therefore, Joel Przybilla must actually be a dark-skinned man.
• For some unknown reason, I found myself watching episode after episode of Mork & Mindy, since TV Land was having a marathon. After thinking that Pam Dawber was kinda hot, I started thinking about other classic sitcom females that were hot. I had a mental hot-off and came up with the following list starting with honourable mention:
  HM. Barbara Eden
  5.     Lynda Carter
  4.     Mary Tyler Moore
  3.     Dawn Wells
  2.     Marlo Thomas
  1.     Susan Dey
  Though HM through 2 may change on any given day, Susan Dey will always be my number 1. Hot as balls.
• Speaking of hot-off, I was curious to see if anyone else uses that phrase, and they don't. There is no mention of it on Urban Dictionary, and no real results on the Google. Therefore, I have decided to trademark it. Hot-off™. There, I just did it. It's kind of like a face-off, but with hotness instead.
• While not watching Mork & Mindy, or What Not To Wear, I got suckered into watching Star Wars, which I haven't done since I was about 10 years old. It's so hard to take those movies seriously when you learn that Darth Vader poos in a bag. You can look it up. It's a checkable fact.
• In the last bit of good news, there was a new commercial starring Flo from Progressive. It was a holiday-themed advertisement. I'm thinking that Flo and Andrea Barrow from Geico should have a hot-off. You know, 'cause they're hot. And that's what hot chicks do – they have hot-offs. Yeah. 

Black Friday, which as a society we are legally obligated to call it, had sales that rose 3% versus last year. Black Friday traditionally is the start of the holiday shopping season, and it is good to see that Americans will spend money they don't have even though they don't have insurance, health care, or even jobs. These colors don't run! I've often had a hard time coming to terms with the Friday after T-Giving. On one hand, I love cheap stuff. I'm all about saving 20% off crap I don't need. I clip coupons, send in rebates, and buy in bulk. So if I can save money by showing up early somewhere, I am all for it. However, I also hate people. Nothing is worse than standing in line with a bunch of mouth-breathing tool-users who just had to have that According To Jim box set. They make me sick. As you can guess, my hate wins over my frugalness in almost every situation, and Black Friday is no different.

On a related note, we here at Wyvern920.com are celebrating 'December to Dismember,' where I will highlight stories all month long dealing with hilarious dismemberments of people. Though not a dismemberment, there was a rather unfortunate death that occurred over the weekend. An overnight store clerk was trampled to death at a Wal-Mart in Long Island. He was trying to hold the doors closed, but customers pushed them down. Imagine the horror of having to work at a Wal-Mart, and then getting killed at one. That's no way to die. That certainly ranks up there in worst possible ways to snuff it. A pregnant woman was also trampled at the very same Wal-Mart and suffered a miscarriage. Perhaps that particular Wal-Mart was built on top of an Indian burial ground or something. In any event, God Bless America. It was all worth it for those 20 people to get 30% off iPods. You can't put a price on a deal like that. Well, I guess you can. 30%.

I've decided the following after much deliberation: that much like Huey Lewis, I want a new drug. I've thought about this for a long time, trying to decide which would be the perfect drug for me. If only they made one of those myspace quizzes, or even better yet, a match.com for drugs. Sadly, they don't, so I've been left to my own devices to come up with one. For eight long years NyQuil has been my choice, with its precious dextromethorphan. Some people think I joke and I don't listen when it comes to my NyQuil use. You say I only hear what I want to, that I don't listen hard, don't pay attention. But I have the empty bottles to prove it. Mostly NyQuil puts one to sleep. This normally had been fine by me, but lately my craziness has followed me into my dreams. What is the point of using a sleeping aid to avoid the problems and pain of reality, when said problems are going to follow one into their subconscious? No thank you.

Since there is a vast array of drugs out there, it wasn't an easy decision. The easy choice would be alcohol. It is, after all, relatively cheap, and easily accessible. However, it seems way too frat boyish. Everyone abuses alcohol. It's almost as if it's not even abuse. Besides, alcohol doesn't really alleviate problems – if anything, it makes you dwell on them more. Valium and Oxycontin, while extremely enjoyable, are too difficult to obtain. Cocaine is out too, because it is one helluva drug. It is also way too illegal. Plus it makes your nostrils conflate into one single nostril – that's no good. Heroin sounds pretty awesome – it is the choice of rock stars everywhere. Just reading the Wikipedia page for heroin makes me want to do it. The only problem is that I am terribly afraid of needles, so that is out.

So what will it be? I have come to the conclusion that ether will be my drug of choice. Think about it: diethyl ether. It sounds cool, and it's not very common. An ether binge sounds much cooler than passed out drunk. It was mentioned in Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas, and that is very much coming back in vogue. I predict that ether will be the hip drug of choice in a few years. Plus, best of all, one can make it at home! Cheaply! Sure, there is a high risk of explosions, but you can't make an omelet without breaking an egg.

Ether – won't you pick some up today? 

I, like many Americans, constantly view The Drudge Report through the course of the day, for variety of reasons. In fact, The Drudge Report is one of three websites that I have up on my computer at all times. See if you can guess the other two. In any event, I prefer not to get my news from the liberal media elite – I would much rather get it from some guy living in a basement, the way God intended.

Drudge had an interesting story posted on his site yesterday. Its title was simply "UK Sperm Banks May Need Bailout..." Now, being a red-blooded American, how could I not click? I expected to read a story about UK sperm banks that need a government bailout due to a variety of reasons. However, after reading the article, I found that there is absolutely no mention of any sort bailout requested. It also has one of the worst graphics to accompany a news story – a bunch of cartoon sperm swimming with the British flag transposed behind it. Anyway, it was really just a story about how there aren't enough sperm donors to meet demand. The headline Drudge used didn't really make that much sense. Therefore, I can only come to the conclusion that Matt Drudge was trying to make a joke about bailouts and sperm banks. For this, I say for shame. There are way better headlines that one could use to draw attention to this story. For instance, one could use "UK Sperm Banks Run Dry," or "UK Sperm Banks Running Low On Deposits". Of course, he should have used my personal favorite, "UK Sperm Banks In Need Of Liquid Injection." You know, 'cause liquid injection is Wall Street code for placing capital in an institution, but if one works blue it could mean something else? Get it? Huh? Nevermind…

Do you ever wonder if sperm banks are FDIC insured? If so, how much? Can a sperm bank foreclose on a baby if the mother doesn't pay her mortgage? What if the mortgage is more than the current price of the baby? Can she perform a short sale of the baby? Can one sign up for direct deposit at a sperm bank? You might not wonder about these things, but I do.