Koko the Gorilla is a sexual deviant with a penchant for nipples:

"My client was getting some rudimentary signing from Koko," he said by phone from his Redwood City office. "'Let down your hair. Lie down on the floor. Show your breasts again. Close your eyes.' My client peeped out and saw Koko slowly kneel down and start squatting and breathing heavily. My client got spooked and ran out of the trailer."

Labels: monkeys, perversion

Being a C-List celebrity is a daunting task. I know you have been typecast as Donna Martin and work has been lean since 90210 went off the air. It has to be annoying when every jerk on the street asks you how Dave Silver's music career is coming along or if Dylan is finally off the sauce. It is understandable how, after years of being rejected by Hollywood, a girl in your position could have developed a low self-image that leads to an eating disorder and a plastic surgeon sewing horrible breast implants into your chest cavity. Life is tough, kid; but for the love of the baby Jesus, eat a goddamn sandwich.

Labels: open letter, pop culture

An excerpt from the saga of Satan Cat:

"Even after he shot it, that cat was so hopped up; we're talking about a little, eight-pound cat, Mickey ran down the hall into the bathroom and jumped into the tub," the husband recollected. "He didn't die for at least five minutes. He was all nerves and adrenaline. He wasn't in his right mind."

Labels: crazy, kitty

Hunter S. Thompson, the pioneer of gonzo journalism, killed himself. During my first trip to Las Vegas I remember staring at the casino carpet and laughing my ass off. I had just read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas on the plane. Sonny Barger admitted post Hells Angels that Hunter is (was) the greatest writer in the world. That is saying a lot for a guy that wanted to kill him.

Labels: books, death, pop culture

Just another day at the races.

Labels: hate, stupidity

The conclusion of the homosexual penguin saga. This penguin enclosure sounds similar to the Spartan Agoge.

Labels: gay, science

Last night, after a strenuous ice hockey game and a delicious dinner made by my lady, we settled on the couch to catch the Grammy Awards (a.k.a. the Ray Charles Suckfest). Here are a few observations:

• Usher is the R & B equivalent to the second coming of Christ. I missed the memo.
• Producers, not kids downloading music illegally, are killing the music industry. Example: Ray Charles posthumously wins Album of the Year for Genius Loves Company. Ray's longtime manager and twenty white men dressed in thousand-dollar suits walk to the stage to accept the award. If you were ever curious where the majority of your money goes from a CD purchase, look behind the sweet old black man in the bow tie.
• That Alicia Keys is one talented, piano-playing bitch.
• Ease up on the mascara, Billy Joe.
• Thanks for the dissertation on tsunami relief and copyright laws, Mr. Head of the Grammys. Now please shut your hole and let Usher collaborate with a musical fossil.
• Britney won Best Dance Recording with "Toxic" which left me pondering one thing: Where is the C & C Music Factory when you need them most?

Labels: music, pop culture

The six homosexual penguins showed no interest in their new female companions and remained faithful to each other. The zoo will now fly in fundamentalist Christian penguins to get the sexually deviant male penguins to repent, reproduce, and then live in an emotionally distant and sexless marriage with their female companions while engaging in some hot gay action on the side.

Labels: gay, science

A kid who got beat up for wearing a pink shirt to school is suing the school and his attacker. I have some words of advice to the little Mary wearing his ballerina gear. If you are delusional enough to believe that nobody is going to call you a "faggot" and try to fight you when you are:

1. A male.
2. Wearing a pink collared shirt to high school (a place renowned for excessive social Darwinism).

Then you deserved the beating you got. Only one man can pull off the pink shirt and his name is Don Johnson.

Labels: education, pop culture, stupidity

A German zoo is flying in female penguins to tempt its male homosexual penguins to go straight. I give it a month before the female penguins turn into overweight fag-hags and swoon when the homosexual males chirp to them in their penguin tongue, "Girl, you are too good for him."

Labels: gay, science

On almost every corner I drive past nowadays, I see a Walgreens either in operation or being built. Within a two-mile radius surrounding my home, there are four Walgreens. Is this country so screwed up that we need prescription medication outlets on every corner? (The obvious answer is yes, but the question is rhetorical you thick motherfucker). I have only been inside a Walgreens three times:

1. In 2002, to fill a prescription to treat a nasty cold.
2. In 2002, to fix the prescription from my first Walgreens visit. An incompetent pharmacist messed up my dosage and gave me two enormous bottles of pills that could have lasted through a nuclear holocaust.
3. In 2004, my lady and I were hungry and in a pinch we patronized the closest store for a sack of beef jerky and some bottled water.

If I had any money to invest, I would put it into prescription medication outlets. Keeping people sick or under the delusion that they are sick seems to be a growth industry.

Labels: drugs, pop culture, wife

A 150-pound gargoyle statue carved out of solid English oak that may come alive and see its owner empty a .357 magnum into its demon-possessed ass. Bidding starts at $1.6 million.

Labels: evil, tomfoolery

The world according to three-star Marine general James Mattis:

"Sometimes it is fun to shoot some people."

Labels: murder, war

Make bacon frying a more spiritual experience.

Labels: bacon, religion, tomfoolery

Assorted imagery of a .22 caliber rifle shredding inanimate objects. Upon viewing the collection, I was reminded of the Bullet Boys self-titled album cover.

Labels: guns, pop culture