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

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

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

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.

I was at an urgent care just now, and the doctor asked me if I’d like some narcotics and how much. Now that is service, my friends. I used to have a doctor that treated every patient as if they were Charlie Sheen in disguise. “You want pain relievers? For a broken femur? Get the hell out of my office, junkie!” So it’s nice to have a doctor listen to your complaint, believe it, and then actually give you something that will take care of it. Especially when that something is 250 doses of morphine. Continue reading

Full blast.

From time to time, some random person makes the mistake of believing that this site is run by a normal person, someone who doesn’t purchase prank photos from Joyce Dewitt or ask a classic rock band to make him a Rueben sandwich. And I am always more than happy to point out the error they made in such a way as to make them seriously question the line of work they have found themselves in. Take, for instance, poor Derek, who thinks that I may be able to help him out with his client who has a web site about drug and alcohol dependency issues, I’m guessing because he thinks that my readers have those kind of issues themselves. You guys are a bunch of fucking pot-heads, you know that? Anyway, here’s what Derek had to say: Continue reading