This is a guy who is having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that the Japanese lost World War II. That, or he just really likes dressing up his junk like Asian countries.

Big Time Warning: Although there is no graphic nudity here, if you get caught watching it at the office you will become a richly deserving social pariah.

It has been said that the only two sure things in life are death and taxes. Actually, that’s bullshit. If you’re sufficiently self-involved to the point that you consider yourself a God, then you can claim tax-exempt status as a religion. Then you spend the next twenty years of your life on the lam, one step ahead of the IRS and their blood-thirsty attack weasels, until you are finally cornered, beaten into submission, and remanded to the custody of a federal penitentiary for attitude adjustment/asshole widening. But, and this is the important part of my argument, you didn’t have to pay taxes! So that statement should actually read, “the only two sure things in life are death and one of the following: taxes or dry anal rape”. There. Continue reading

I was having a boy’s night with my six and three year old sons this weekend when my three year old asked, with a hint of panic in his voice, “Where’s my black guy?” I looked up from what I was doing (drinking a beer) to see if maybe his actions would lend some context to that statement, but he just stood there in the middle of the kitchen shouting, “Daddy! Where’s my black guy? I can’t find my black guy! Where is he?” It took me a while to figure out what he was talking about. At first I wondered if maybe his day care had recently admitted a child from a particularly racist cracker family, or possibly he’d been watching The Wire. Continue reading

A wise man once said to me, “Son, there’s a lot more to life than what you see right in front of you. You have to explore life as if it were a foreign land, the natives exotic and dangerous, the flora luxurious, the fauna deadly. If you walk through life treating it as some ordinary, humdrum repeating series of tasks and duties, you’re going to miss the magic and wonder of it all. Now if you want to ride the Tilt-O-Whirl, you need to give me four tickets.” Continue reading

Jesus.

Fred Grandy, for those of you who don’t know, is the actor who played Gopher on the 70’s/80’s hit show The Love Boat. He also served four terms as a Congressman from the state of Iowa, and later served as the CEO of Goodwill Industries. I decided to write Fred Grandy an email. He decided not to answer. It went downhill from there. Continue reading

I am asked on a fairly regular basis to tell more stories of my youth, specifically stories that took place in college when I was supposed to be earning a degree, but instead spent half a decade pickling my brains. This is because a lot of my readers like to live vicariously through me living vicariously through my past self. (That’s two generations of vicarious living in case you are keeping track, which you aren’t). I’m usually more than happy to oblige because these stories always bring a smile to my face, especially when one of my friends consequently sends me an email to remind me of something related that I’d totally forgotten. “Dude, that’s so funny! And then you rode that police horse around the quad while wearing a Speedo made out of duct tape and parking citations! Hahahaha!” Uhhh, yeah. Continue reading

If it weren’t for my kids, the 80’s wouldn’t seem as if they were so far away. They’re not that far away, really. Not to me at least. Any time I want, I can close my eyes and conjure up visions of… AAAUUUGGGHHH!!! Who the fuck thought dressing head to toe in neon colors was a good idea? And what was with everyone’s fucking hair?!? Jesus, what a vapid decade: Menudo, Chia-Pets, parachute pants, and Where’s the Beef? No wonder I started drinking as a teenager. Anyway, the 80’s, for me, are instantly accessible in the recesses of my mind, but for my kids, they may as well be a hundred years ago. And so when I have to explain that when daddy grew up, phones were attached to walls and they look at me as if I just told them that I rode a dinosaur to school, I think to myself, well of course, the 80’s started over 32 years ago… And then it seems really far away, and distant, and I feel old. So I ground my kids to their rooms for a couple of weeks and drink in front of the TV watching reruns of Cheers until I feel young again or the police tell me that they have the house surrounded, whichever comes first. Continue reading

I am back. For those of you who follow this blog regularly, you already know that last week I was laid low by a wicked case of Ebola Zaire. Or maybe it was a sore throat, I forget which. The good news is that once again I was able to drink my illness into oblivion. Have you ever done that? You’ve felt like crap for a few days in a row and then you say, “Fuck it, I’m tired of feeling like shit” and desperate to feel good for a few hours you down 15 beers and chase it with a few shots of tequila, and possibly huff some oven cleaner? That’s what I did. I started slamming beers and, lo and behold, I woke up on Saturday feeling pretty good! And so I repeated the process on Saturday night with similar results. Continue reading

Still reeling from the double effects of a ridiculously painful sore throat (boo!), and the grogginess from battling it via narcotics (yay!). So rather than get my neurons in a lather, here’s a video. It’s not quite the least I can do, but it’s pretty damn close.

The video itself is from the 1987 Crystal Light National Aerobic Championship, which is the kind of thing that happens when society does cocaine for the better part of a decade. The least surprising thing about this video? That the team you are about to watch is from San Francisco. The most surprising thing is that as recently as 1987, Alan Thicke was still employable.