Ugh, I’m going through some stressful stuff right now, and it has sapped my energy and ability to put words on the thing with… the… funny… Sigh. So, let’s go to the wide world of stupid videos for relief. I give to you… Whatever the fuck this thing is. Ahhh, Russia, where the entertainment is as cheap as the vodka and just as likely to blind you.

I was reading an article today about how New Jersey governor Chris Christie is going to undergo lap-band surgery. Pundits are divided over what the impact of this will be. Some think that this can only help Christie in a possible run for the White House in 2016, while some think, holy shit, those lap bands better be made of solid steel because otherwise all it’s going to take is a single trip to Crispy Creme and BLAMMO! Lap-band shrapnel and icing everywhere. Governor Christie is a big boy. What everyone can agree on is that you cannot become President of the United States if you weigh more than a Volkswagen. Continue reading

We live in a world of technological wonder, or at least we think we do. Five years from now, of course, we’ll wonder what we did back in the stone ages when we didn’t have high-def porn streamed directly into our brains (answer: get shit done), but for right now we feel like we are on the cutting edge of a brave, new world, one in which our phones are advanced enough to tell us that we’re all a bunch of lard-asses. Continue reading

I was black the first time I stepped into a bar. You see, I attended a University with some rather relaxed rules about public alcohol consumption: Pretty much anyone could do it. The rule was that campus bars were allowed to admit people who were at least 19 years old, but they weren’t supposed to serve anyone unless they were 21 or older. This worked about as well as you would expect it to, which is to say not at all. You showed your id at the door, went inside, and proceeded to drink until you were too drunk to lie down on the ground without holding on. Then you had a few more and went home. Still, by limiting their clientele to those who were legally and almost-legally allowed to drink, they were missing out on a key demographic: People absolutely not old enough to drink. So bouncers at these bars tended to be rather casual when it came to checking ID. They’d put a thumb over the photo and wave you right on in. Continue reading

Are you female? Are you looking for a car? Why not kill two birds with one stone?

It’s getting close to summer here in Phoenix, when you can fry an egg in your pants just by walking outside (this is why I no longer trust IHOP). Because of this, I’m forced to take my post-lunchtime walk across the street in the air-conditioned confines of our local mall. It’s a pleasant, comfortable walk as long as you can avoid the assholes selling helicopters and are able to mentally block out the sight of unfortunate ass-crack. Seriously, what is with all the ass-crack? If you’re so big that you can’t find pants large enough to cover your ass-crack, you need to run over to a sporting goods store and buy a god damn tent because no one who isn’t being paid in some capacity should ever have to see that shit. Continue reading

I ran across something kind of nutty today: There is a guy in Phoenix who looks exactly like Sean Connery, and you can hire him to hang around so that you can… impress people, I guess. I’m not really sure what word belongs in that sentence, actually, because I know that I wouldn’t be impressed by the fact that a friend was hanging out with Sean Connery as much as I would be… Mystified! That’s the word I’m looking for! You can hire this guy to hang around so that you can mystify your friends: “Dude, why is Sean Connery eating Funyuns on your couch?” Continue reading

I work across the street from a massive electronics store, the type where you can buy a 100″ HDTV, a washing machine, or an iPad all under one roof. It’s a very dangerous place for a person like me to go because at any given moment I’m liable to convince myself that life isn’t really worth living unless I can buy myself a giant, remote-controlled blimp shaped like a cheeseburger. I’m not much for rampant consumerism, but this store has my fucking number. One time I went over there to buy a new hard drive on the company’s expense account. I came back with 6 inch Gumby and Pokey dolls. I’d forgotten all about the hard drive. Continue reading

The 80’s: That decade when everyone was so fucking high that even the people who wrote anti-drug PSA’s were baked.

I don’t know how grocery stores work in other parts of the world, but if they work anything like the ones around here do, you’re familiar with the concept of a club card. A store’s club card is your way of telling the world that you’re too smart to pay $47.99 for a jar of pickled beets and would prefer to be charged $2.99 like everyone else on planet Earth. And then when you pay for the beets, they make a big deal about the money they “saved” you, as if that fools anyone over the age of two. Continue reading