In 1916 a ship, the SS Mount Temple, was crossing the Atlantic bound for Liverpool England with a wartime cargo consisting of horses and 22 cases of dinosaur fossils because… Well, because the SS Mount Temple originated from Montreal, and you know how those crazy Canucks like to hit the sauce. “World War I has broken out in Europe? Zut alors! We must send them horses and dinosaur bones, just as soon as we are done making sweet, sweet love to this moose!” This really happened. (Yes, the moose thing too.) Continue reading

Long time reader, hall of fame commenter, and eagle-eyed reader B’Homey sent me an article this morning which has one of the best headlines I’ve ever read: Man Offers Police Taco as Identification. There goes the old high score on the Breathalyzer! Continue reading

I’m often pulled aside by people on the street who want to know how I do it. “Greg,” they’ll say, “you are wealthy, charismatic, and successful beyond imagination. What is your secret?” I laugh when they ask this question. Then I slug them in the gut and take their wallet, because you don’t become wealthy and successful by passing on golden opportunities such as these. Besides, my success isn’t really a secret anymore, as anyone who has read my series of self-help books can tell you. Mug Your Way to Happiness; Retire Young by Preying on the Elderly; and It’s Easy to Fall Down and Hurt Yourself at Disneyland! all outline solid plans for the savvy go-getter who wants to get the most out of life. Continue reading

If you are anything like me, you’re hiding in a display tent in the Walmart sporting goods department, drinking beer and eating Funyuns by the metric ton. You’re also insanely excited about the upcoming birth of the Royal Baby which, according to the Huffington Post is “looming”. That doesn’t sound right, if you ask me. This is a baby who is destined to be born into obscene luxury, not the spawn of Satan. The Huffington Post needs to stop being so inappropriate OR I WILL HAVE THEM BEHEADED AND PLACE THEIR BLOODY NOGGINS ON A PIKE, I WILL! Continue reading

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

Since our last installment, I packed all of my belongings into a U-Haul and moved to a house a couple of blocks down the street. If you’re wondering why I bothered with a U-Haul if the move was so short, it was because putting all your shit on a sled and having your dog and kids pull it Iditarod-style may be entertaining, but effectiveness-wise it blows goats. So I wrapped the goldbricking fuckers in bubble-wrap and threw them in the U-Haul with the rest of my shit and fucking moved. I say “fucking moved” not just because I’m a foul-mouthed, anti-social malcontent with the manners of a drunken sailor in a whorehouse, but also because the total elapsed time to move everything by myself was six and a half hours including the time it took to rent and return the U-Haul. I am the motherfucking man. Continue reading

When The Sims first came out, many years ago, I was intrigued by a promise on the box: “Control every aspect of your Sim’s life!” And so I shelled out the money, installed the software, and immediately created the unhappiest Sim in the history of the universe. He had no job, lived in a shithole (literally, it had no toilet), and I wouldn’t allow him to eat, bathe, or do anything even remotely healthy. It was like college in a lot of respects. But I had also set his characteristics to the worst settings I could imagine, and as a result he spent 95% of his time weeping on the floor. This delighted me because I am a horrible person. Continue reading

I noticed today that I had an awful lot of internet traffic the last couple of days. Five times as much, in fact, which was baffling because usually I have to violate some pretty major laws in order to get that much attention, and as far as I know I haven’t done anything like that in over a week. So I headed over to my Google Analytics site to see what’s what, and discovered that over 73% of my traffic the last couple of days was generated from a Google search on the phrase “God of the internet”. Really. All I can say is that it is about fucking time I got some goddamn recognition around here. You may now all bow before me. Go ahead, I’ll wait. Continue reading

I vividly remember asking my mom about death when I was a child. She told me the usual things parents say in that situation: Death is natural, everyone dies, that’s the way nature works, etc. Parents say these things to reassure their children because they know that if they’re honest with them, their kids would probably hurl themselves under the next school bus they see. “Holy shit, death is fucking scary! I knew this guy who was just walking down the street when, WHAM! A pit bull ran up and tore his nuts off. Bled out before anyone could even call 911.” You shouldn’t say this to your children. I know this now. (Sorry, honey! Daddy loves you!) Continue reading

When I was young, we used to watch the Miss America Pageant on TV. Not because we liked it, mind you, but because I’m older than shit and when I grew up we only had six channels of “entertainment”. Let me tell you something: when there’s a dearth of competition like that, there is very little incentive to provide quality programming. I mean, the highlight of the week was Mork & Mindy, and if you were lucky there would be a Battle of the Network Stars on so you could once and for all settle the question: Who would win a kayak race, Jamie Farr or Charo? Continue reading