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We interrupt our regularly scheduled camping retrospective pictures for some Independence Day coverage, before it gets even more untimely. Internet days are kind of like dog years, so based on that, if these photos were dogs they would totally have cataracts, diabetes and like maybe a leg amputation by now.

On the left, the inside of a case of High Life. Apparently, it’s not only the Champagne of Beers, but the Champagne of Beer Packaging design as well.

On the right, one of the grainiest, blurriest, worthlessest photos I’ve ever shared on this blog. However, the crappy quality helped bolster its single strong quality — the fact that it’s uncannily reminiscent of Cloverfield. For me, that goes a long way. But if you happen to hate that movie, then you really are a good American, since that seems to be the popular, prevailing opinion of Cloverfield according to some preliminary surveys conducted here at Dedleg HQ. And if there’s one thing in America that’s almost as valuable as money, it’s popularity. Unpopular things like reading and affordable medicine are rightfully feared.

And, in honor of our great country, here’s a clip from a film made to celebrate America’s unique breed of, uh, helpfulness. Maybe you’ve heard of it.

Derkaderkastan seems like a dangerous place. Sorry if any of you were offended by its harsh portrayal… this YouTube comment, amongst thousands like it, kind of proves why we can’t have this kind of fun anymore.

America… fuck yeah?

I’m going on vacation! Five days of lethargy and mosquito bites in the wilds of Wisconsin. But dedleg will continue to operate as normal, thanks to those immigrant workers I employed to man the helm in my absence. Fuck you, Arizona! It’s still legal to hire illegal immigrants in Illinois!

In protest of that bill or whatever that they passed in Arizona, the only liquid I’m allowing into my body is Corona, and my diet has otherwise subsisted almost exclusively of canned refried beans and José Olé‘s mini-tacos. My guts feel… mad. But I’m doing what I can.

Things take a turn for the gross here.

I found this… graveyard of cigarette butts and vegetables? and trash and street slime outside one of Chicago’s many fine, flatscreen-wallpapered drinking establishments. I may barf just looking at it right now. Put this shit on the side of cigarette boxes, fuck those necrotic lungs, for real.

Edit: The longer I look at this, the more convinced I am that there’s a dead bird in there. Those damn cancer sticks truly show no mercy, my god.

If yesterday’s discussion of alcohol abuse and its unpleasant consequences weren’t enough to put you in the mood for a weekend of binge drinking, I’ve got you covered. But, uh, I don’t have your cover, if you know what I mean. When they’re charging at the door, I’m charging a 12 pack at the bodega around the corner.

Anyway, while I was researching the full spectrum of delirium tremens’ delights, I discovered its victims had provided it a number of charming nicknames to make it sound cute and hilarious instead of terrifying and life-threatening. Well, maybe I found them hilarious only because I don’t have any dependency issues. I mean, except for weed, but that’s like being addicted to lettuce, right guys? … Right?

Anyway, as I was saying… the nicknames for delirium tremens sure make up for how sucky it actually is:

Delirium tremens (colloquially, the DTs, “the shakes”, “the horrors”, “the heebie geebies”, “the fear”, “the staggers and jags”, “the jimjams”, “jazz hands”, or “the rats”) is an acute episode of delirium that is usually caused by withdrawal from alcohol. 

They’re so non-sucky, in fact, that they generously donated to me an idea for a drunken, drug-addled band of Superzeroes — The Delirium Tremens! Or maybe The Legion of Tremens? I don’t know… what do you think would sell more action figures?

Oh fuck, let’s face it. These desperate little losers would sell themselves.

It’s true.

Magic Hat is one of my favorite microbreweries, partly because their beer offerings are some of the more delicious ways to get drunk, but also because each cap comes with a short phrase, submitted by fans of the brew, printed on the underside. The caps are funny, insightful, and often incomprehensible (even when sober), but they’re downright collectible, just like Pokemon or Nazi gold!

I’ve amassed something of a repository myself, because, after all, what’s cooler than bragging about how much you drink to people who absolutely couldn’t give a shit?

Although, over time you’ll start getting an increasing number of doubles which quickly becomes disheartening. Eventually, the only hidden message left to be read is, “collecting beer caps is kind of a dumb hobby.”

Somewhat related: Is there anything more pointless (yes, even counting collecting beer caps) than having an age block on alcoholic products’ websites? As far as I’m aware, there is no age limit on lying.

Or perhaps just mouthwatering samples to get you craving for the next one already.

I like to keep it green. It’s good for the environment, and it’s good for making art. And I’m talking about two things at once!

But man can not live on herbs and beer alone — that’s what Party Party Party Mix is for. You can’t see the label in the photo, but that’s actually what it’s called. It includes off-brand Cheetos — I think that’s what warrants the extra “Party Party” preceding “Party Mix.”

This was a scattered post, but I’m kind of a scatter-brained type of dude. Figure that one out.

I did this illustration for a 10^th grade health class textbook a few years back. Unfortunately, they’ve swapped out the image in recent years, apparently for something more “scientifically sound.” Personally, I don’t see what else needs to be said, but I guess doctors disagree or whatever. First they try convincing us we evolved from apes and now this? The education system in this country is appalling. Just appalling.

Another week fades to black. And with it, may you get faded as well.

After all, you gotta remind your liver that he works for you. If you don’t feed it enough beer, it can get lazy and that can cause liver disease and even outright liver failure. That’s what my Uncle told me when they made him stop drinking, and he used to drink (and well… still does) so much that I consider him something of an authority on the matter.

Anyway, not trying to preach, just thought I’d share some helpful advice. It’s a New Year, guys, time to start taking better care of your health.

Also, you can thank me later for that, Internet.

syn⋅er⋅gy
–noun, plural -gies.
the cooperative action of two or more stimuli or drugs. 

This post was brought to you by the letter “b” — for bud, bush, beasters, and of course, the best way to chase it down, beer. Soundtrack provided by Del the Funky Homosapien, with one of my favorite drinking/smoking/throwing-my-life-away-to-drugs songs, “BMs”. That stands for “Bob Marleys”, not “bowel movements,” by the way.

What’s in a weekend? Hm, looks like about 41 beers and a bottle of red wine, according to the refuse collected on my kitchen counter.

Another one burnt to a crisp, which is appropriate phrasing considering I feel about the same.

It might only be Tuesday, but you gotta keep a well-stocked fridge, nah’mean.