“Now I’m going to show you something, and I don’t want you to ever forget it.” Yeah, I bet, you freaky looking perv.

Chances are that you’ve got a killer in your household, something directly responsible for over 1.2 million deaths worldwide every year. It is so dangerous, in fact, that you have to obtain a special license to use it. It is expensive to purchase, expensive to operate, and expensive to maintain. In addition to all of that, it is poisonous, contributing to pollution so severe that it claims an additional 1.3 million lives every year. If you even turn it on in a closed room, it will kill you within minutes. I’m referring to, of course, automobiles, specifically the one I had to take in with a blown master cylinder this morning. Fucking cars. Continue reading

Now this is how you troll a religious talk show.

I grew up on my mother’s cooking, and as my mother is French-Quebecois, I was not exposed to spices of any kind until I was well into my teens. Seriously, my mother cooks the blandest food known to mankind. English food seems daring and risky by comparison. It’s not her fault, she just cooks the food she happened to grow up on. Of course, as she became Americanized, she became a little adventurous. I remember being excited when she announced that she had found a recipe for chili and was going to make it for dinner. Chili! It sounded so exotic! Then I sat down to dinner and my mom served it to me. On a plate. Continue reading

I attended public schools growing up, which wasn’t as bad as some people would have you believe. At least it wasn’t out in the far suburbs of Chicago where the streets were more likely to be teeming with cows than gang members. I had my share of good teachers, a couple of them I’d go so far as to call excellent. Most of the teachers were competent, but average. They got the job done, kept control of the class, and managed to make sure that you left with a little more knowledge in your head than you came in with. But you take the good along with the bad: I also had a fifth grade teacher who was horribly inept and lazy, and an eighth grade teacher who was a living nightmare. That nightmare was called Lester the Molester. Continue reading

I took my kids to the LEGO Store this afternoon, and let me tell you something: No matter what age you are, if you can’t get your kid on in the LEGO Store, then you are a reprehensible human being and I don’t want to know you. You know who would have loved the LEGO Store? Hitler. No shit, he was into architecture and design in a big way, so if you don’t like the LEGO Store, you are worse than Hitler. Continue reading

What could be more wholesome for kids than some old fashioned claymation? Here is a clip from the Adventures of Mark Twain, because, hey, kids gotta learn about Satanism sometime!

Pretty amusing until he calls the guy a “vat of John Tesh”. That’s going too far.

You know what I highly recommend? Being in a rock band. I was in a rock band when I was in college, and it was tremendous fun. We did band-like things such as rehearse, play gigs, do drugs, and get really drunk, but being in a rock band is so much more than that. It’s having the police bust up an outdoor jam session while you’ve got a bottle of whiskey and a bag of drugs in plain sight on a picnic table; it’s dumping a full garbage can out on another band’s gear in a recording studio because they had just been signed to a label and made the mistake of thinking that meant they could order another band to go buy beer for them; it’s the sheer exhilaration you feel when you realize you have a real fan, even if looks-wise she’s closer to a grouper than a groupie. Being in a rock band fucking rules. Continue reading

I read the other day that new evidence has surfaced that supports the claim of a man who had claimed that he was Hitler’s love-child with a young French woman. The first thing I thought was that I’m not so sure you want to be running around announcing that you’re Hitler’s son. I mean, it’s got to be hard to get second dates when you drop that little nugget of information into play during dinner. “Well, I’m an avid reader, I like to travel, and I’m the son of the mastermind behind the slaughter of six million innocent people. What about you?” At that point you may as well drop in that you’ve got herpes and that your name is Mel Gibson, because it won’t make things worse: You’re just not getting any action tonight, Adolf Jr. Continue reading