An Intervention...

Dude, we all care about you. That's why we're here.

For the longest time, I pretended like you didn't have a problem. I didn't want to admit to myself that you're not the same cuckoo-bird I used to know. It seems like the only thing you care about now is where you're gonna get your next fix.

And it hurts, man, it really hurts.

It kills me to sit back and watch you throw your life away. I've seen you go through twelve boxes of this shit in an afternoon. I've fucking SEEN you go through this shit so fast you swallow the prize at the bottom without even noticing!

When there's Cocoa Puffs around, you change into this...this monster! Your eyes get all bugged-out. You ignore your wife. You ignore your kids. You're sick. You're addicted to this garbage and you need help. And we want you to get help. We want you to know we're here for you. I'm serious, Sonny. We know you can kick this thing. We love you, man.

The IT Department...

Winners of the SysCorp Inter-Office Keg Stand competition, 2007.


Why Are The Urinals I Pee Into Always So Lame?...

And, I know a lot of you have been wondering
if there are any photos out there of a lemur using a urinal.
Well, you're in luck:

Documentary Film Of The Day: The Real Dirt On Farmer John...

Those of you who keep up on my documentary picks know I'm a sucker for films about weird people. Weirdness, to me, is a positive personality trait. Farmer John is pretty weird. He's artistic and flamboyant. He turned his Northern Illinois family farm into a commune, much to the displeasure of his neighbors. When the farming collapse of the eighties struck, John had to sell off most of his equipment and land, but he could never fully let go of the farming lifestyle. It's a nice story, funny and a bit hokey at times, but it is ultimately a story of second chances.

You can add it to your Netflix lists HERE.


An Unsubstantiated Rumor That's GOT To Be True...

The cast of 80's religious sitcom "Amen" were
hardcore satan worshipers.

It is also important for you to know that, to date, none of the five seasons of "Amen" have been released on DVD, nor is there any indication that they will be any time soon. Please write your Congressperson ASAP to make sure this grave injustice is rectified.

I Would Make A Great Rich Person...

This is the Rockefeller family.
The descendants of John D., the first billionaire.
They are considered one of the wealthiest American dynasties.
These are people who might use the word "summer" as a verb.

I think I would make a great rich person. I've never had a lot of money, but I'm pretty sure if I did, I wouldn't be a dick about it. I know everyone says it, but I'd honestly give a lot of it away - anonymously. Sure, I'd do a few things for myself, like put a new roof on my house and get some dental work done, but I wouldn't buy fancy cars or clothes or yachts. I'd spend 4 to 6 months a year donating my labor to some philanthropy like Habitat For Humanity. I'd use my wealth to support the arts and those who want to be creative.

If I ever do become rich, I promise to always pick up the check and always leave a big tip, even if the service sucks. I promise to give money to any homeless person I encounter and I won't judge them if they spend it on liquor or drugs. I promise to put change in any parking meter that's about to expire. I promise to give any exonerated prisoner something they've always wanted. I promise to never complain about paying a lot of taxes. Mostly, I promise to never be corrupted or jaded by wealth.

And I promise to take you all on a nice trip somewhere. Where should we go?


There Are Some Things That Can't Be Explained...

Like why this post continues to make me laugh so loud. Like Bill Hicks once said, "It's like a sore tooth I can't stop touching..."

I Doubt Anyone Will Leave A Comment On This Post Because You'd Have To Be As Big A Geek As Me To Know What I'm Talking About...

It is my contention that R2-D2...

...and 7-Zark-7 were separated at birth.

Fucking February...

Is it over yet?

For a short month, it sure does seem to drag on for-fucking-ever.


My Weekend Getaway...

This weekend, Megan and I drove down to the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore to do a ranger-guided snowshoe hike. It was a beautiful day to be out in the snow.

This is about 400' above the lake atop one of the dunes. It really was gorgeous with the sun, snow, and ice patches on the water.

Afterwards, we stopped at a local brewery to sample some of their finest.

Later, I did some test shots for my upcoming layout in Playgirl magazine.

By the way, if anyone is looking for the perfect gift for Megan,
she absolutely fell in love with the Motel 6 signature bedspread.

Oscars Wrap-Up...

Hey, look!
It's Jack Nicholson! He's sitting in the front row!
And he's wearing sunglasses! Inside!
And people are making jokes about him!
You know, because he's a little eccentric.

Yeah, hilarious.

Oh, and some people won awards.



Next Stop, The Dagobah System...

Sorry about the lack of posts yesterday.

Megan and I decided to take a day trip to the frozen planet of Hoth.

Our Tauntauns are just out of view.


Evil Middle Names...

I find it amusing that, even now, wingnuts like Hannity still can't get over the fact that Barack Obama's middle name is "Hussein". I mean, if someone's middle name (a name that was given to them by someone else) is the same as someone else's last name, it only stands to reason that they are exactly alike in every way, right?

What Hannity neglects to tell you is that his middle name is Buttafuoco, so I don't think he's in any position to criticize.


I Changed My Avatar...

Nice bowl-cut, nerd.

What Would Sam Think?...

After I finish this backrub, Greg,
maybe we can play a quick game of
"hide the vacuum cleaner crevice attachment".


A Post That Made Me Laugh My Ass Off...Twice!...

Here is a sneak preview.

If you are like me in that you require a healthy diet of juvenile humor,
you need to be checking out The Fee Feasible Prophecies.

If you think Eli Manning is a big dork, despite his performance in the Super Bowl, check out this POST. I think even people who don't give a shit about football might find humor in it. I laughed out loud when I first saw it and cracked up even more the second time I saw it. Its brilliance has prompted me to start a list of classic posts and I'm making it the first.

A Sunday Evening Comfort Post...

Today was a real turdburger. The weather was shit - cold, cloudy, and freezing rain - and I was on ski patrol duty. Luckily there were few accidents because most sane people stayed indoors where it was dry. Now I am home and in my flannel sleepwear trying to raise my core temperature a couple degrees.

You know how every now and then there is a song you feel like listening to over and over again? This is currently mine. It's so damn jangly and fun and I like the horns.


An Open Letter To Sammy Hagar...

Dear Sammy,

Dude, you can TOTALLY drive 55 miles per hour, sometimes faster, provided you are driving on a road with a posted speed limit of 55 MPH or higher. I know for a fact that, here in Michigan, there are stretches of highway where the speed limit is as high as 70 MPH! I just thought you should know because you seem to be under the impression that you cannot drive 55.

I suppose, theoretically, you can drive as fast as you want, or at least as fast as your car will carry you. The problem with that is that you might get a ticket or endanger yourself or others. Whatever you decide to do, BE CAREFUL!

Your pal,
Some Guy

Happy Valen-times...

I love you all!
Have a good one.


Quality Control...

As you have probably noticed, the content of this blog has continued its downward slide. I figured it was high time to get a little feedback from my readers in order to bring you the quality material you expect. Please fill out the following survey at your leisure. Any additional suggestions can be left in the comments.

How did you find this blog?
A friend told me to avoid it
The Yellow Pages, under "waste disposal"
Ad in "JesusWeek" magazine
Accidentally while looking for porn
I found it very offensive, thank you very much
Free polls from Pollhost.com

What about this blog appeals to you the MOST?
The liberal use of ellipses...
It makes me feel superior to you
The links to better blogs
It's slightly more interesting than the side of my cereal box
The stuff about poo (This is anonymous, right?)
Free polls from Pollhost.com

What about this blog appeals to you the LEAST?
All these words I have to read
No posts about Sally Struthers
Your complete and utter disregard for any sort of decorum
Not enough nipples
Stunts like this, where you pretend like you honestly want our feekback and then you turn it into some big joke and waste all of our time
Free polls from Pollhost.com

How can this blog be improved?
Provide hard-to-find information on penis enlargement
Stop sugar-coating everything and be a little more frank
Knock it off with all that pinko, liberal bunk
Instead of a white on black color scheme, how about yellow on light yellow?
Replace the "Documentary Film Of The Day" feature with "Anal Cyst Picture Of The Day"
Free polls from Pollhost.com


Who Can Tell What Song I'm Talking About?...

It goes:
wah WAH wah WAH
wah WAHN wah wah
wananah wah wah wahwanah


Documentary Film Of The Day: Symbiopsychotaxiplasm: Take One...

This film is a neat hybrid of documentary and performance. It follows a film crew shooting of a movie scene in Central Park in the late sixties. I liked the experimental, ambiguous quality of it. It also featured a cool soundtrack by Miles Davis. You might want to check it out.

Netflix link HERE. (Happy, GKL?)

Sing Along With Night Ranger...

This should brighten your Monday!


Give It Up, Fox News...

Face it, it's a losing effort.
We've seen what kind of person Dubya is.
He would have to rescue baby Jesus
from a burning building at this point
for people to even reconsider
their negative opinion of him.

Mr. Peebles...

Sam Peebles seemed like a happy guy.
And why wouldn't he be?
He was the owner of a pet shop,
one that did well enough to afford him
a desk, a phone, and some snappy clothes.
Mr. Peebles took pride in his appearance
and always kept himself impeccably groomed.

One day, Mr. Peebles world came crashing down around him.
His landlord decided not to renew his lease.
With real estate options being what they were,
Mr. Peebles would have no choice but to close his shop.

Mr. Peebles pleaded with the landlord,
begging him to reconsider.
He even sunk so low as to offer sexual favors
in exchange for another year's lease.
It was no use. Mr. Peebles decided to break
the bad news to Magilla.

Right as he walked in, Magilla nailed him
with a urine-soaked banana peel.
"Yo, Peebles, we need more bananas, you lazy fuck, " yelled Magilla.

Mr. Peebles was beside himself with anguish.
He was at his wit's end.
As he began his nightly closing ritual,
he wondered where it had all gone wrong.

As he swept up Magilla's shit, Mr. Peebles realized,
"It's his fault! That fucking stupid, freeloading gorilla!
God only knows what else he's gonna do to fuck with my life!"

Just then, as he was at his lowest point,
Mr. Peebles turned to find
the most handsome man he had ever seen
standing beside him.
He started to feel things deep inside.
Things that he had resisted for so long.
Their eyes locked and Mr. Peebles was under his spell.

Sadly, Mr. Peeble's crush was only using him
to get access to his one desire - Magilla.
He would shower him with gifts
and have his chauffeur drive them
around in fancy cars, flaunting it all in front
of poor Mr. Peebles.

I mean, that little dude was into some sick-ass shit
with that ape.

Anyway, Mr. Peebles was a shell.
He spent his days ogling young girls
on the street corner.

As they'd walk by, he'd hope for a lucky gust of wind.
Mr. Peebles was a sick fuck.
He had become the most degenerate
member of the community.

Then his alarm went off.
"Fuckin' A!" he thought,
"Must've been that burrito I ate."

A Malignant Idle Thought...

Did I get it all?


A Benign Idle Thought...

I wonder how many copies of "We Are The World"
Amazon sold this week.


This Is Not A Post About Dubya...

I just needed a picture of a dimwit and his image kept popping up again and again.

Is anyone else like me in that, when you're out and about and you encounter people you might consider less intelligent, you try to imagine what their idle thoughts consist of? And maybe not just less intelligent people, but crazy people or boring people - anyone, really. Because, face it, all of us are always thinking about something. You see some schmuck walking down the street and you know they have something on their mind.

I'm fascinated by this. I know there's all sorts of weird-ass shit that pops into my head on a daily basis, not all of which makes it onto this blog. I've gotta think there are others like me. I feel bad for people whose idle thoughts are lame.