Al Gore is my homeboy.

Westsiiiiiiiide!

Things that will rock your ass.

Flying V? check. Keytar? check. Yep, I think these crazy kids are pretty much ready to rock your ass.


Lemmy Kielmeister is rocking your ass right now. Tell me I'm wrong.


Wayne Cochran's hair will rock your ass. It's like Donald Trump's combover started taking steroids or someting.

Snoop Dogg's lesser-known uncle, Swamp Dogg, will rock your ass. Warning: giant rodents may be involved.

The Fat Boys will rock your ass. Although they might want to stop for a snack at some point.

The United States of America will rock your ass. Duh.

Meet our new kitty!

Ain't he a charmer?

From Muppetz ta G's

Being kitchenless (until recently) and also being on a fairly relentless work schedule, has led to me spending what little downtime I have in ways I'm not exactly proud of. Specifically, I've been watching a lot of crappy reality competition shows that were developed to entertain 17-year-olds with promising futures working in sales at Spencer's Gifts. Even more specifically, I've been watching VH1's utterly shameless I Love Money and MTV's craptacular From G's to Gents. I have no dignity.

The concept of From G's to Gents is that host Fonzworth Bentley (yes, I am totally certain that was his given name at birth) has embarked upon a Pygmallionesque quest to transform a ragamuffin band of uncouth urban youths (the forementioned G's) into suave, urbane sophisticates. In the first episode, a G named "Pretty Ricky" (not the street name I would choose for myself if I really thought that incarceration might be in my immediate future), distinguished himself by urinating on the walls of Mr. Bentley's home. See- classy, enlightening entertainment all the way.

Anyhoo, this video of Bert and Ernie going through a reverse transformation: from mellow "roomates" to hard-bangin' G's amused the bejeebers out of me. Enjoy.



stolen from Skidzilla

Satan forced me to eat at McDonalds. And I kinda liked it.

I hadn't set foot in a Mickey D's for several years until last week. I was working away, plotting new and exciting ways to plunder the Spanish Main, when suddenly I was seized by a uncontrollable urge to walk through those golden arches and get me one of those filet-o-fish sammiches. I don't think I've eaten one of those since sometime in the late 80's. For reals, yo. At any rate, I did what I always do when confronted by temptation - yield to it immediately. I have to say, the filet-o-fish sammich ain't all that bad. I'm not going to go so far as to say that it was good - I mean, it's no Shamrock Shake. But not too bad.

Yesterday I was struck by the same yearning. Yep, that means I've been to Chez Ronald twice in a week now after years and years on the wagon. "What the hell is going on here?" I asked myself. Well, it's now becoming clear that Satan, in his never-ending quest to use me as an unwitting tool in his Diabolical Promotion of the Homosexual Agenda, has forced me to spend my hard-earned doubloons at Mickey Ds in order to make sure that a small group of nutburgers with deeply-rooted psychological issues are perpetually outraged. Observe:




Now, I'm not precisely sure what McDonalds has done to piss these folks off, but I'm gonna guess that their complaint is of the "your failure to hate the people that I hate constitutes a grave and unforgivable offense worthy of protest and boycott" variety. That, or they put larger stalls in the Mens' room to accommodate Senator Larry Craig's wide stance.

At any rate, if McDonald's has figured out a way to get these guys all in a lather, they must be doing something right. Anyone care to join me for a filet-o-fish and a shamrock shake?

Hey, guess what we're drinking at the Scooby Doo Mansion this summer!

Yessir, nothin' goes with a bucket of fried chicken like some syrupy semi-carbonated Lambrusco from a screwtop bottle. Unfortunately, this ad forgot to show the breakfasty side of Riunite - Riunite with french toast, anyone?
The ad also forgot to show how awesome Riunite is with half-eaten, two-day-old Taco Bell leftover chalupas that you picked up while on your previous Riunite bender.

Oh crap, they've got a website even! Even more exciting, they've got an archive of all their old TV ads. Damn.

Child psychologists, you will never lack work.

Ever wonder where those pathetic food court goths come from? I sure do. And I've got a hunch it may have something to do with traumatic early childhood experiences like these:


Attention Parents: clowns and ventriliquists' dummies are always plotting to murder your children in their sleep. The kids all know this, so why can't you figure it out?

Okay, that's got to be the creepiest cat/rabbit/demonspawn I've ever seen. I'm gonna have nightmares just from looking at this picture. I hope the kid at least had the sense to leave a big ol' Cleveland steamer in its lap.

I don't even want to know

Random Awesomeness

Okay, I understand how the Thrush pipes helped you get the the two disco hotties - I mean, that's just simple science. But what's up with the sinister character in the black cloak? I think she's gonna slip something in your Harvey Wallbanger and steal your bitchin' van, dude. Seriously, watch out. I don't care if she reminds you of Stevie Nicks.


Tell me the guy in the upper right isn't Will Ferrell. Or is it just that Will has captured the cheezy 70's look so well that now all genuine cheezy 70's guys look like Will Ferrell to us? These are the ponderous questions that keep me up at night. Well, that and dog farts.


I tried to play Dance Dance Revolution with my boss's ten-year-old last year and she totally destroyed me. I think Waltz Waltz Revolution might be more my speed.


That's right suckas! Original German Gangstaz front the sausage and pretzel bling! You best respect.


Once I invent the time machine this party will be my first stop. Seriously.

A Farewell to Shadies: A Pictorial Retrospective of the Most Entertaining Neighbors Ever

Once upon a time, Lex-Ham was home to a family who were not real slim, but were pretty damned shady. We just called 'em the Shady Bunch or the Shadies for short. Their house was Chez Shady. And at the center of all the action at Chez Shady was Erik Shady, a guy who just loved keepin' it real.

Yup, that Erik was some real dope-ass gangzta shiznit. He also enjoyed a slice of cake from time to time.

The matriach of the Shady Bunch was Beth Shady. She, also, is westsiiiiiide!

And who could forget those charming little scamps the Shadies were raising to be upstanding, high-achieving, productive members of society? We're gonna miss you crazy kids.

Sometimes a guy we just called High as Hell would come over. Sometimes we could hear the Shadies and HaH having spirited roundtable discussion about exactly how they were all related. It got pretty complicated. Kinda like the McGlaughlin Group or the Algoquin Roundtable, except with more 24 ozers of Steel Reserve Malt Liquor.

And who could forget Uncle Tony? - a mild psychopath who, oddly enough, might have been the closest thing Chez Shady had to a responsible adult.

Sometimes the Shadies would have awesome parties featuring feats of strength. That is, if you consider dusting off a case of Steel Reserve tallboys to be a feat of strength.

So long and happy trails to you, Shadies. We just know you're going to love getting to know your new neighbors - the Mullets.

And so we, the awesome residents of the Scooby Doo Mansion, raise a toast of white wine and shrimp cocktail to you, the Shady Bunch. It's been real, yo.