“The Brown Wedding” by James O. Thach

Yes, this must be shared. The enormous potential of sugar-free gummi bears to be used a weapon of mass toilet destruction holds true. Here, on the Amazon.com review of Haribo’s version of these monsters, I found this “top rated review.” Though I did not write this, I feel as if it would be a crime against humanity to not share the author’s incredible story:


The Brown Wedding


It’s been a rough couple of years for my family. There have been a few land disputes, some nasty feuds, several imprisonments and a beheading. But perhaps our most celebrated misfortune was what has come to be known as The Brown Wedding.

I don’t want to bore you with all the details, but essentially my cousin Robb was betrothed to the daughter of a family rival. Then, against all our counsel, he eloped with another woman. Classic Robb.

Anyway, you can imagine our surprise when we found ourselves invited to the wedding of the jilted bride. Perhaps it should have been a red flag. But we Starks love a free meal, so off we went.

They threw it in their castle. After a tense exchange between Robb and the father of the bride, the ceremony was performed, and we all sat down for the feast. It was bench seating. The food was simple fare–beans, broccoli, and bran muffins. Again, a warning sign, but we were caught up in the merriment and the wine.

Dessert arrived. The waiters uncovered tureens filled with colorful piles of gummy bears–a welcomed note of levity. The fifes played a jig, and we all dug in. They were delightful–fruity and delicious.

Twenty minutes later, the father of the bride proposed a toast. “To the Starks,” he said. “May all your misfortunes be behind you.”

Around this time, I began to feel uncomfortable rumblings down below, and looked about for a restroom. As my eyes scanned the hall, I noticed that the bride’s family weren’t eating the gummy bears. A waiter was refilling the tureen next to me. I snuck a glance at the bag–Haribo Sugar Free Gummy Bears. My blood ran cold.

I rose to shout a warning to my family, but the alarm came from my backside–a three-note trumpet blast that ended badly. I felt a fullness in the back of my pants. A thousand shocked eyes turned to me. And then the room erupted in a cacophony of flatulence–and worse. Far worse.

How can I describe it? The sights, the sounds, the smells. And the pain–like a grappling hook dragged backward through my bowels.

I watched in horror as, one by one, my family doubled over, succumbing to the ceaseless waves of stabbing pain. Some were clutching their bellies, others lay writhing on the floor, or stumbling in circles, emitting auburn plumes of effluvium. The walls were soon spattered with our suffering.

The father of the bride watched it all with intent eyes, delighted by the macabre spectacle.

I saw Robb–brave Robb–fall victim to the gastronomic assault. Not even his pregnant wife was spared. Monstrous.

Soon only our matriarch was left standing, teetering as she made a final plea for mercy. But too late. She fell to her knees and erupted, and what came out of her haunts me to this day.

So hear me, and hear me well. I swear vengeance on them, their house and their kin. I will hunt them to the last of their line, from Winterfell to Casterly Rock. And if I do not live to see their castle burn to the ground, I will at least light the match. For, by the gods, someone needs to light a match in that place.


–James O. Thach.

PSA: Self Image & Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show





So the Victoria’s Secret fashion show is tonight. I look forward to seeing a bunch of girls on Facebook rambling about how their self esteem is lower after watching it.

Here’s a tip:

Every human is different. Whether you are a man or a woman, there is always someone that society might consider being better looking than you are. It’s a fact. Take for example, People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive,” Chris Hemsworth (Ironically, this title is likely selected by a female panel of an unknown number. You know, the same ones who decry the Victoria’s Secret models.). He is a better looking man than I am. It’s a fact.

Would it be cool to look like Chris Hemsworth? Yes, I’d definitely imagine so. I’m human, thus I am innately self-critical. Do I feel that I’m imperfect? Yes. I’m too short (5’7″), too skinny, too frail, and too “ordinary” looking.

Then, logic attempts to step in:

Truth be told, it is logical to think that I should not hold myself up to the same standard as Chris Hemsworth, most because I’m not Chris Hemsworth. I’m Bryan Williams, and it is genetically impossible for me to look like Chris Hemsworth. The best thing that I could do to improve my self-confidence is to work on improving things about myself that I’m insecure about. I could eat better food (I have a diet that mostly consists of honey buns, pizza, and Skyline Chilli), I could work out (I did before and actually saw decent results), and perhaps take more time to groom to improve how I look. The rest, is out of my control.

On the flip side, there are people that think that I’m attractive. Most notably, my wife (for whatever reasons she might have). The same goes for all of us. While you may think that you’re nothing but ordinary, someone out there thinks that you are the world. Someone thinks that you are the most beautiful thing that they’ve ever seen. It sounds cheesy, but it’s true.

Now, to the women, these “impossible beauty standards” don’t include women and only women. They include both genders, and that is something largely ignored. You cannot bash the looks of a Victoria’s Secret model while worshiping Channing Tatum. That is contradictory. We must only look at the facts. Why do you like these men? Well, they’re attractive. Why do most men like Reese Witherspoon? She’s pretty.

For all of us, we have to realize that these extremely attractive people actually exist in real life, and nearly all of them (minus the occasional artificial enhancement) were born they way they are. . . just like we were. Penelope Cruz was born that way. Carrie Underwood was too. However, they are people just like the rest of us. We are who we are, and we must deal with what we’ve been handed. Most of the time, I’d stretch to say that it isn’t THAT bad.

Maybe, we should accept that, and then learn to love who we are on a personal level. Improve on the things that we have personal control of, and try not to concern ourselves too much with the things that we cannot control. I know that  it’s very difficult, and yet, though I’m preaching here, I struggle with the same things every day.

Insecurity rules my mind, but depending on the day, I do pretty good with it sometimes.

I am who I am. You are who you are. Let’s embrace that.