Raver Dog

Remember the raver cats? This is their pal, the raver dog. Dog’s on drugs, indeed.

I’m “Back”

Dude, no wonder your back hurts. Your fucking spine is falling out!

Actually, no, I’m not. I just didn’t want to waste a perfectly good pun. The fact of the matter is that my back has been acting up recently, and none of the miraculous technology that has been brought to bear in this amazing age of medical miracles has been applied to the back. I can’t get a back transplant, I can’t grow a new back from stem cells, fuck, I can’t even buy a back on the black market, which is total bullshit if you ask me. If I can afford to have a homeless Laotian man kidnapped and harvested for his back so that I may resume sitting with a complete disregard for posture, then why shouldn’t I be able to? Fucking human rights laws. What a crock of shit. Read more »

Arrrrggghh! My Back!

No post today (or yesterday, for that matter). My back has decided to be a complete fucking asshole, something that it does from time to time. It hurts like a motherfucker, and it’s hard to crack jokes when every three seconds you’re dropping to the floor in agony. I know, I’ve tried. I was at the office today in a very important meeting, and I was all, “So the prostitute looks up at the Pope and says…” when all of a sudden: WHAMMO! A coworker sucker-punches me. And also my back hurt some more.

So in lieu of my trademarked Kenny Loggins/felching based humor, here’s an important public service announcement from the American Medical Association, which has apparently gotten into the medical marijuana again.

The Dogs On Drugs Business Empire

And as you can clearly see from this chart, I hate you all with a passion unrivaled in the history of mankind.

If there is a single word that springs to mind when one looks at this website, that word is “professional”. I’m led to this conclusion by the steady stream of emails I receive from people who would like to help my business meet its potential. Before I read these emails, I was under the impression that Dogs on Drugs was nothing more than a large collection of dick jokes and semi-slanderous statements about Angela Lansbury (who has a penis, by the way). But as it turns out, I was wrong. It is actually a business venture that has the potential to produce large amounts of revenue, although to be truthful, I’m still unclear how one goes from slandering Angela Lansbury (serial killer) to rolling in dough. Blackmail, perhaps? Read more »

Talent: It Don’t Come Easy

Ladies and gentlemen... Ringo Starr!

Quite some time ago, I received an email from an admiring reader in the UK. At least, I think he’s an admiring reader. He didn’t include the standard, non-admirer terms that usually tip me off, such as “illliterate dumbfuck”, “escaped zoo chimp with a spellchecker”, and “tragic waste of the human spirit”. He also failed to threaten to report me to the “internet police”, and so I’m only able to draw the conclusion that he’s an admirer, or failing that, at least he doesn’t want to set my teeth on fire. Read more »

A Quick Ramble About The Brady Bunch

Jan, without makeup.

Yesterday’s post about the incidence of pubic lice aboard the USS Enterprise got me to thinking about classic television shows, and whenever that happens, my thoughts turn to the Brady Bunch. Of course it doesn’t take much to get me on a Brady Bunch roll, as anyone who was with me this weekend can attest. All I can say to that is look, I’m sorry I ruined your grandmother’s funeral, but in my defense she looked an awful lot like Alice, and all I did was ask her to make me a sandwich. And put a mop in her casket. And then take her out of there to reenact a couple of classic scenes. The point is, stop being such a gigantic baby about it, and come bail me out! Read more »

Watch Me Boldly Go Where No Man Has Gone Before

Serious amounts of ass-tapping going on here.

Mankind is, by its very nature, inquisitive. From the time we descended from the trees, we have asked ourselves the big questions: Who are we? What are those strange lights in the sky? When are they going to invent beer? As mankind began to understand and manipulate its environment, we discovered that each answer we found led to new, and more fundamental questions: What is the sun made out of? What is this force that moves the Earth around it? And seriously, can someone invent beer already? My wife is fucking nagging me to buy her a new loom, and I could really go for a cold one. Now, of course, with the benefit of modern technology, we are able to answer more questions than we have at any time in our past, and still we find that there are more to be answered, such as whether or not they still have crabs onboard the USS Enterprise. Read more »

Where Are My Fucking Cookies?

Mmm, these motherfucking cookies are motherfucking delicious!

I was reminded today about a story from when I was 23 years old; a story involving Girl Scouts. Now, if story involving a 23 year old me and Girl Scouts makes you uneasy, I’d like to point out that I didn’t do or say anything that would have required the police to get involved. I was standing next to that guy. Big difference. Read more »

A Good Argument In Favor Of Banning Music And Religion, Worldwide

I don’t think I have enough hands to give this video the number of facepalms it truly deserves (29). As a result of watching it, my faith in mankind has been totally eradicated. I no longer believe in anything. I’m going to law school!

Stormy Weather

What terrible weather to have in March!

Most of the time, when I complain about the weather in Phoenix, I’m fully aware that I’m being a complete and total weather pussy. I grew up in Chicago, where wind and cold conspire to turn every day activities, like pumping gas, into life-threatening ordeals the likes of which are usually confined to a Jack London novel. So I should know better when I complain about an 80 degree day in March with no clouds in the sky because, “it’s just a little too warm for hiking.” I’ve got friends on the East Coast who have had so much snow this winter that they’ve had to leave their home via the attic and use their frozen grandmother’s corpse as a makeshift sled in a desperate bid to get food and medicine, but I’m down here getting tweaked because snakes are slightly more active when the temperatures hit 80. No word yet on whether or not they’ll film the next season of Survivor at my house. Read more »

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