I had a dream last night that I was in a Godzilla movie. I found myself in an industrial park, cowering in the corner of a large plant as I watched Godzilla’s massive form stomping about in the distance. I remember feeling good about my chances because I wasn’t that poor bastard who always gets stepped on in the middle of the street. Seriously, people, are we not all familiar with the Godzilla drill yet? When a 400 foot tall fire breathing monster is walking down Main Street, you stay the fuck indoors. That’s the rule. Well, that and stay out of trains. I don’t know if Godzilla had some random pervert touch his butthole in the train when he was little or what, but trains send him into a motherfucking rage. He’s always tossing trains around, and so even though a swipe of his mighty tail could bring the factory I was hiding in crashing down upon me, I still felt good about things. I wasn’t crossing a street, and I wasn’t in a train. Continue reading

I’ve been a reader all my life, and so it was only natural that I would spend a lot of time reading to my kids when they were little. They’d get all dressed up in their footie pajamas, we’d hunker down in bed with a big, fluffy blanket covering us all, and I would open a book and begin to read: “We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.” Hahahaha, just kidding. I would never read Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas to my kids. Too many words. We mostly read things with lots of pictures, like Hustler, although if the comics were good, we’d read Playboy in a pinch. Continue reading

You know what show is a goddamn hoot? My Strange Addiction. The concept is simple: They select people with strange addictions and televise a few days of their lives so you can sit there on the couch, laughing at other people’s deep seated psychological issues. Hey, everyone loves a good train wreck, and if the passengers just happen to be drinking shoe polish at the time of the crash, so much the better. Continue reading

This weekend was an interesting one for me. I learned a few things, which isn’t necessarily odd, but the things I usually learn on the weekends are more along the lines of what the underside of the tables at McGinty’s Pub look like, or that cops don’t like it when you call them “shitheels” in public. But yesterday, for instance, I learned that I have the ability to alter the outcome of a Super Bowl and that I am going to become filthy rich as a result. Continue reading