Yes! It is the first week of summer! It’s time to get outside, get a great tan, and get fucking LAID. And we all know that the best way to get laid is to come up with a rock solid pickup line. (Still mailing it in, folks.)

Summer vacation is here for my kids, and that can only mean one thing: Freestyle rap battles! Yeah, you read that right. Freestyle rap battles! That’s how I motherfucking roll, yo! (In case you can’t tell, I’m mailing it in this week.)

It has long been known that the laws of physics, while limiting in some ways, often offer avenues to bypass these same limits. We may not be able to travel faster than the speed of light, but we can OD on cocaine, Red Bull, and jimsonweed and it certainly feels like we’re running faster than the speed of light. That cop that was chasing us? That donut-scarfing tub of authority is long gone. We are free to fly around the universe unfettered, at least until we run out of blow, or possibly wake up to realize that we hallucinated the entire thing in a novelty photo-booth at the mall. (It’s been known to happen.) Continue reading

I understand that’s a kind of ridiculous question, for a couple of reasons. First of all, if you’re going to be asking questions about Miley Cyrus, there are a lot of other ones that spring to mind first: What the fuck is wrong with Miley Cyrus’ face? What the fuck is wrong with Miley Cyrus’ tongue? What the fuck is wrong with Miley Cyrus? What the fuck is wrong with people who think that Miley Cyrus is anything other than a horse-faced retard? The list is damn near endless. Continue reading

Have you ever used Siri, the iPhone assistant, to give you travel directions? I usually don’t have to because I live in Phoenix, which is laid out in a giant grid, making it almost impossible to get lost. If you lose your bearings, you just pick a direction and drive until you find a road you recognize or an Alzheimer’s patient driving a giant Cadillac runs you off the road and into a Taco Bell, which is pretty much going where you’re going to wind up anyway if you’re stupid enough to drive in Phoenix. Continue reading

I have a love affair with local commercials. That’s not to say that this love affair has been consummated, of course. That would be perverted, and wrong, and would likely result in my junk becoming mangled inside a DVD player which hurts like a motherfucker. Or so I’ve heard. Ahem. Continue reading

As I’ve mentioned in the not too distant past, my body has been acting weird on me lately. This has caused me to be exposed to Health Care, which has been noticeably deficient in caring for my health in that they have no fucking clue what is wrong with me. And because they have no clue what is wrong with me, they’re afraid that I won’t pay the bill unless they come up with something, and so the doctor came in to the examination room recently and told me that I have high cholesterol. (And yes, I’m fully aware that any pretense that I am “young” and “with it” flies directly out the window once I start writing about my cholesterol level. After I get done writing this, I’m going to move to Boca Raton.) Continue reading

If God has a plan for each and every creature on this green planet, then He must have put pigeons here for me to throw buckets of flaming gasoline on, because that’s where things are headed right about now. I have had it with fucking pigeons. Continue reading

Women, for some strange reason, have this thing about fucking rock stars. It baffles, me, but it is undoubtedly true. The fact that Billy Joel has ever been laid proves my point. Billy Joel is so ugly that if he was a car wash attendant women wouldn’t let him pet their dog. But put him behind a piano with a large wad of cash in his wallet, and the panties hit the floor. Un-fucking-believable. Continue reading

Mental note: Don’t get high with this guy again.