I’ve got a challenge for you. I’m going to to give you a fifth of bourbon, a bunch of mescaline, and a big bag of high quality skunk-weed. After you’re done fucking around with all of that, I’m going to put you in a room with thirty fifth graders and your goal will be to teach them one thing over the course of seven hours. Sure, it’ll be tough at first, what with all the bats in the room and the floor turning into blood. But if you had to teach a bunch of fifth graders one single thing over the course of a whole day, you’d be able to do it, even under those conditions, wouldn’t you? Well, if you did, you’d have accomplished more in one day than my fifth grade teacher did in an entire year. Continue reading

I’ve been on a Journey kick for the last few days, not because I particularly like their music, but because I’m a huge, slobbering fan of their videos. And I do mean slobbering, because watching Journey videos has been shown to cause massive, traumatic, brain damage, the kind where you find yourself rubbing shit in your hair and voluntarily watching C-SPAN. It’s that bad. Continue reading

I was pulling into a shopping mall today, and the road that you turn in on has no stop sign, while the roundabout road that circles the mall does. This usually causes some confusion for people used to having a three-way stop there, and so some guy laid on his horn when I did what I was supposed to do: Keep driving. If we were speaking, this is how the conversation would’ve gone: “Hey, nice stop, asshole!” “I don’t have a stop sign, you blind fuck.” “Oh. Shit. Well, fuck you anyway.” Instead, our conversation went like this: “HOOONK!” “HOOOOOOONK!” “HOOOOOOOOOONK!” In this day and age, that’s the lowest level of discourse you can get outside of Facebook. We can do better. Continue reading

I’ve got three kids, so it goes without saying that large portions of my house are dedicated to toys: We’ve got bins for everyday use toys, boxes for toys that get used semi-regularly, a large toy box that exists to hold toys that are rarely used, and strategic places around the house where we store toys that are so fucking shitty that they never get used, but we can’t throw them away because the kids would lose their little minds if we did. We could have an HIV-infected hypodermic needle play set, and if one of the kids saw us trying to toss it out, they’d instantly feign interest in it. “Don’t throw that away! I love that toy!” “What? You never play with it. The last time anyone played with it, it was your brother Ben.” “I don’t have a brother Ben!” “Not anymore you don’t.” “PLEASE DON’T THROW IT AWAY!” Continue reading

My daughter just got done performing in a community production of Wizard of Oz for the second year in a row. First of all, let me say that my daughter was wonderful, as were all the other actors, and everyone did as good a job as they possibly could have given that the budget was apparently scrounged from a couch. So it is not with any of the participants in mind when I say that the Wizard of Oz is the lamest piece of shit in the known universe. I would rather pour steak sauce in my ears and let starving cockroaches crawl into my nose and eat my brains away from the inside than see that fucking play again. Fuck the Wizard of Oz sideways with a rusty axe-head. Continue reading

I had a wonderful post lined up for tonight, something that would make you weep with joy, gasp in wonder, and laugh until your sides were sore. Then I got my iPhone. Yeah, I’m one of those Apple freaks and I have been since I got my first computer, the Apple II, way back when computers were so primitive that they had carburetors. I know, I know, Apple is not perfect, their shit is kinda pricey, and when he wasn’t revolutionizing every industry he touched, Steve Jobs was kind of a dick. I don’t care. Their stuff simply blows their competition out of the water. So you can cram your fucking Windows Phone (*stifled laughter*). I like my new iPhone. Continue reading

Why the fuck can I no longer go to the mall without feeling like I’m in Mexico? The mall used to be a relaxing place, with the entire walkway dedicated to benches, fountains, seasonal decorations, and horny teens in various stages of the rut. Now, it’s like running a fucking gauntlet of kiosks, carts, and the kind of shuckster that makes Vince, the Sham-Wow guy seem like a deep thinker. This is bullshit. I already have people to harass me while I shop: I call them my children. Continue reading

Whenever I hear the song Mother’s Little Helper by the Rolling Stones, I’m whisked away into a world of pure idiocy, a world in which I am immortal and immune to the laws of both nature and man. I’m sitting in the passenger seat of a car, and in the reality that I am detached from I am either going home, to jail, to the hospital, or to the morgue. But I don’t know this, or if I do, I simply don’t care. Mother’s Little Helper is blaring from the speakers and we are singing along, laughing maniacally, even though merely being seen by a police officer at this point is enough to ensure our arrest. I am 18 years old. Continue reading

I remember sitting in the back seat of a car in the parking lot of a liquor store when I was eighteen, glumly watching as my friend got shot down again. As he settled back into the car where we were waiting, I said to no one in particular, “Man, when I turn twenty-one and some kid asks me to buy him beer, I’ll totally do it. I’ll buy him a fucking keg if he wants me to!” My statement was met with a chorus of “Yeah’s” and “No kidding”, and we hunkered down to wait for someone “cool” enough to break the law for a bunch of moron teenagers that they didn’t know. I remember that well. And so when I was approached by a gangly-looking teen the other day and asked to buy him some beer, it was with a pang of regret that I said, “Sorry, pal.” As I walked away, I swear the kid’s eyes said to me, “What happened, man? You used to be cool!” Continue reading

For those of you who read last week’s Week In Review, you’ll be familiar with the picture off to the left of what appears to be a Japanese woman slowly turning into an inflatable fuck doll. This is wonderful fodder for smug American pricks such as myself, who like to make fun of anything nonsensical, foreign, or (ideally) nonsensically foreign. In this case, however, I was wrong to poke fun at that advertisement because this wonderful invention will help all of you ladies out there whose faces are slowly turning into mush. Behold the Face Slimmer from the wonderful folks over at Glim. Continue reading