Yesterday I rolled into the local liquor superstore Total Beverage to replenish my depleted garage refrigerator beer stocks and keep the wife happy with a thumb-hole jug of Tanqueray and assorted flavors of tonic water. The TBev is a magical place where the end of the liquor rainbow meets with the weakness of humankind to form an alcohol purgatory where all stripes and strata of society are equal in the eyes of their liquid master. In the checkout line I witnessed the following things:

• Two morbidly obese females getting their fake IDs confiscated by the manager.
• An Eminem reject attempting to purchase two 40 ounces of Olde English and a carton of GPC Basic cigarettes only to realize that he did not have enough money to purchase said items. He eventually settled for one 40 ounce and one pack of smokes.
• A frazzled store clerk having the following sarcastic exchange with an oblivious 8-Mile after he figured out his money situation:
  "Why are you guys so busy today?"
  "It's Mother's Day Weekend. Mom's like to get down."
  "Oh."

Labels: l-i-v-i-n, liquor, tomfoolery, wife

• Photobombers are people who ruin seemingly nice pictures. Here are some of the best Photobombers from Facebook.
• Sportsmanship is alive and well in female athletics. If it were dudes playing in that game the scenario would have played out something like this: Guy hits a jack. While rounding first base he blows out his knee. After making fun of the guy for blowing out his knee while rounding the bases on a home run, the opposing team feigns fake concern until trainers haul him off the field whereupon the umpire makes the proper ruling of a two-run single. The opposing team will later tell their grandchildren about some moron that shredded his ACL after going yard in a bourbon-soaked haze forty years later.
  
• Peanut butter and jelly. Milk and cookies. College fraternities and cocaine rings.
  

Labels: drugs, link goodness, sports, tomfoolery

Wil: This communique may be brief. Damn third world countries and their third world internet.
Me: It is the rebels I am guessing. Monitoring for subversive conversation.
Wil: Could be some Sandinistas. I am in their hometown after all. Birthplace of Sandino himself.
Me: Well in that case, Viva Sandinistas! We love you!
Wil: Nice. Leon is also where that crazy poet gunned down Somoza. There are statues of him everywhere. Rigoberto Perez, I think it was. Cold John Lennon'd his ass. I could be wrong. I have had many Victorias.
Me: Well, when you are a dictator you have it coming. I mean, you have to know someone will pop a cap in your ass.
Wil: Yeah. Leon is like Boulder. Total liberal town. It would be like Pat Robertson coming to Boulder and making derogatory remarks about wheat grass. Some hippie would kill his ass.
Me: Or just try to offer him some really choice weed.
Wil: Ha! Tomorrow I head to Granada because this town sucks. Much like Boulder. I want wear a Somoza Rules t-shirt make a statement similar to your Shut Up Hippie bumper sticker. It might end up worse than someone keying my car, though.
Me: They tend to cut off your head for freedom of expression down there, Willie.
Wil: Man, if prison had air conditioning I would do anything to get thrown in. It is hot down here, Holmes.
Me: Like flames of hell hot?
Wil: Like sweat indoors but do not realize it until your shirt is soaked through hot.
Me: Like your balls sticking to your legs and smelling of old cheese hot.
Wil: Exactly. I stink really bad right now and there is a water shortage so I cannot do any laundry.
Me: You are in the jungle, dude. Fuck it. When we were in St. Lucia showers meant nothing to me. Mostly because after taking a shower I would not be able dry off for three days.
Wil: Good point. But my jeans are especially bad. Alright, I have to get the hell out of this steamy internet cafe because it is making me sweat more and smell worse.
Me: Remember to rubber up.
Wil: Will do. Adios!

Labels: boulder, history, im convos, tomfoolery, travels, wil

Web Designer: God. That site looks like clown puke.
Me: Totally. And not the good kind of clown puke.
Web Designer: There is a good kind of clown puke?
Me: Sure. Like when you punch a clown in the stomach so hard that it makes him vomit? That is the good kind. It is even better when you get some blood mixed in there.
Web Designer: I am happy that you are my boss.

Labels: im convos, tomfoolery

Tonight on our drive down to south Denver for a floor hockey game, the Ghost of War smashed into an errant sofa on I-25 at about 75 mph (the sofa conveniently lay on the highway less than three hundred feet from Furniture Row). I am guessing that a new sofa purchaser, unskilled in the art of twine and furniture hauling, dropped that big bastard on the road upon merging and failed to look in their rear view mirror to notice that their load was lost. The sofa lay in the far right lane as we sped along in the far left lane. An eighteen wheeler barreled through said sofa and sent it careening across the highway. The Ghost of War happened it be directly in its wake. I swerved enough to deflect the brunt of the blow, but the old girl still got tagged pretty good. The damage included the passenger side mirror being shattered into oblivion, a large dent on the passenger side door and the passenger side headlight being bashed to pieces (click here for some hot Flickr action). Being as the Ghost of War still gets 35 miles to the gallon and is paid for, I am running her for at least another 100K. I plan on hitting the Yota Yard at lunch tomorrow for some replacement parts as it is close to the office and located directly across the street from the Walnut Room (which makes a mean meatball sandwich). May the parts be with me, indeed.

Labels: denver, ghost of war, l-i-v-i-n, tomfoolery, wife

There is nothing I can say about Lesbian Turkish Oil Wrestling except its arrival to the scene was long overdue. Jake, Gay Joe and myself discovered the national Turkish all-male sport back in the Data Slaughterhouse days which yielded many discussions and one inappropriate IM buddy icon that Joey rocked for two solid years thanks to a useless human resource department and a devil may care attitude. I am proud that the Turkish Oil Wrestling organization finally acknowledged the Women's Movement and decided to let oiled-up dykes grapple with each other in the Turkish tradition. It looks like Daddy just found a new show to record on the HD DVR.

Labels: data slaughterhouse, jake, lesbians, tomfoolery, turkish oil wrestling

Is 32 old? Hardly. But to the whippersnappers I work with who are fresh out of college, I am a year or two away from being put in a home. I find myself having to explain the pop culture references that dot my vernacular in great detail and ramble on about the days before "the MySpace" and "the texting." Yesterday my web designer (who is well-rounded musically) nearly killed me by asking, "Who is NWA?" This morning, our project manager came strolling in with a new haircut and sporting a Tam O'Shanter so I quipped, "Look at you all on the Mary Tyler Moore tip. Are you going to throw your hat up in the air and twirl around for us?" I had to find The Mary Tyler Moore opening credits on YouTube just to illustrate how clever I was. I am sleepy. It is either time for bed or the early bird at the Sizzler.

Labels: age, tomfoolery

• The New York Jet's D Concourse becomes Mardi Gras at halftime. I am actually surprised this does not happen during the entire game being as New Jersey tunnel trash lifting up their shirts seems far more interesting than watching Kellen Clemens play quarterback. It is sad when the best thing that happened to your professional sports franchise in the past decade was this.
• Vintage photography of a 60s era sex party (NSFW).
• Obesity trends in the USA from 1985-2006. Good to see Colorado representing the low end of the scale along with Massachusetts and Connecticut. Do us all a favor West Virginia and Mississippi; put down the cupcakes and go for a bike ride or something.

Labels: link goodness, sex, sports, tomfoolery

Thanks to Frodo Baggins, I now have a new dance move to throw in my repertoire: The Puppet Master. I especially enjoy Elijah materializing to and from the netherworld of corporate sellout in the video.

Labels: pop culture, tomfoolery

• Friends Made: Ming the Hooters Casino High Roller who bet $1000 a hand at Pai Gow.
  
• Enemies Made: a black stripper from the Spearmint Rhino and a fat pit boss named Bill.
• Best Quote From Dave: "Right now I have more alcohol in me than sense."
• Best Quote From Erik: "When I see you again I will buy you $100 in bourbon."
• Seen In Abundance: Wisconsin fans, hooker trading cards and fake boobs.
• Seen In Scarcity: Street sweepers, museums and my judgment.
• New Coined Marketing Slogan To Be Sold To The Las Vegas Chamber Of Commerce: Welcome to the Sex Ashtray.
• Gambling Maxims Proven Correct: Never hit on 13, respect the sixes and a "push" is a win.
• Gambling Maxims Proven Wrong: No craps game goes seven straight rolls without making the point.
• Best Casino Game: Pai Gow, which is Chinese for Slow Money Bleed Super Happy Fun Drink Time.
  
• Worst Casino Game: Money Drop, or as it is more popularly known "Let It Ride."
• Best Run: Six and a half hours at a Pai Gow table on $40 that yielded countless free drinks, death threats from dealers named Gene, screams of free Hooters calendars and chicken wings, continual verbal assaults directed towards a fat pit boss named Bill and eventually, free Hooters T-shirts and shot glasses that Ming the Hooters Casino High Roller charged to his room.
• Worst Run: Ten minutes at a craps table that took $100.
• Best Eats: Steaks at Mon Ami Gabi and Bailey's ice cream shakes.
• Worst Eats: My bag of Fritos and pack of Starbursts for dinner and Will's infamous "last breakfast" from Nathan's which consisted of a chili dog, a handful of soggy crinkle fries and twelve over-cooked chicken wings.
  
• Best Sports Bet: Wil for putting it on UNLV to cover the spread versus Wisconsin.
• Worst Sports Bet: Me for putting $20 on the Colorado Avalanche to win the 2008 Stanley Cup.
• Years On My Life That The Trip Took Off : Two.

Labels: dj, drinking, ez, gambling, tomfoolery, vegas, wil

Nick just informed me that The MB has been blacklisted by the unnamed big oil and gas company he is employed by. This merely confirms the fact that the entire oil and gas industry is against me. Fuck you, oil and gas industry. If I could drive a solar or electric powered automobile and not look like a homosexual (or worse, Ed Begley, Jr.) I would. I long for the day when the world runs on inexpensive and efficient alternate fuels and oil executives are getting their heads cut off with scimitars by angry Arab assassins that no longer have a viable export. May your financial coffers dry up with the Permian Basin.

Labels: blacklist, rage, tomfoolery

The wife and I threw a housewarming party on Saturday night, inviting our friends and family over to destroy all the hard work we put into the place over the past few months. Some highlights:

• Japanese Whiskey is a great housewarming gift and a fun treat for Grandma.
• My four-year-old nephew held court over the fire of a citronella candle waxing philosophical to numerous adults on Star Wars, baseball, war and gladiators.
• Johnny Ballgame rolled up in a new truck named "The Licorice Whip." New is a relative term as said truck is an early 80s Chevy Half-Ton with visible fire damage and more miles on it than 50-year-old stripper. Jake reported that it died twice during the convenience store cigarette run. The convenience store is a quarter mile from the house.
• My neighbor Kevin (who I have talked to three times) walked into the house grabbed a cup from our kitchen and poured himself a keg beer. He than greeted us and proceeded to hang out for the next six hours.
• A pack of youngsters found kitty's second confirmed kill in our backyard. That brings the body count to two in less than one week.
  
• Most decadent housewarming gift: 80+ ounces of Grey Goose vodka.
• Number of partygoers that threatened to Top Shelf one of the bathrooms: 2.
• Number of partygoers that requested Journey's Greatest Hits for a musical selection: 7.
• Number of partygoers that had to be called a cab at 3 AM due to someone "taking their keys": 2.
• Number of partygoers that drank the bottle of rum they brought as a housewarming gift: 2.
• Approximate time on Sunday that my hangover wore off and I was able to able to stand up without getting lightheaded: 4 PM.

Labels: drinking, kitty, the greens, tomfoolery, weekend that was, wife

Nameless Coworker: You had three calls come in for you in the past ten minutes.
Me: Oh really?
Nameless Coworker: Yeah. Where were you?
Me: Even Art Directors have to take shits.
Nameless Coworker: Nice.

Labels: poop, tomfoolery

I just received a web change request from a woman named Kitty Pryde. I am planning to post the following to her Wikipedia page under "Powers and Abilities":

Additional to phasing through objects, being a computer genius and skilled in multiple martial art disciplines, Kitty also works as an administrative assistant for a nameless Canadian oil & gas company performing the heroic tasks of finalizing Power Point presentations, providing vector-based logos, approving ad copy and being the primary contact for all web edits.

Labels: comics, tomfoolery

Half naked baby and cobra fight! I have to give the win to cobra. Sure, half naked baby stood her ground, took some strikes to the head and made a valiant effort, but she was dancing around and playing defense during the entire contest. Cobra was on the attack through out the fight, utilizing Rommel's "the best defense is a good offense" philosophy. Half naked baby knew she was in trouble and went in for the hug to stave off a flurry of head shots. Apparently half naked baby was trained by Roberto Duran.

Labels: fighting, tomfoolery

• A camouflage "fuck" hat with "fuck" written in Old English lettering; its says your are classy but you also know how to party.
• A cartoon about Mormon Theology. I am going to teach my kids that they owe it to the world to defile at least one Latter Day Saint in their lifetime.
• Spiders crawl into boy's ear. Hijinks ensue.

Labels: link goodness, mormons, pop culture, tomfoolery

During the height of my binge drinking days I could drain things down my gullet that would curl the stomach of a goat; straight whiskey, Irish Car Bombs, Natty Light and tequilas that do not even deserved to be named. I was blessed/cursed with an abnormally high metabolism and a steel stomach that allowed me to absorb alcohol faster than your average frat boy. Enter this past Saturday. The wife and I watched some Roller Derby with Jake and crew downing numerous tall boys of PBR in the process. I came home to spend a good clip on the toilet cursing the PBR and saddened that my once iron constitution is now broken.

Labels: drinking, jake, tomfoolery, wife

The Cunt Coloring Book; artistic fun for the entire family! Even hardware store bull dykes waxing philosophical on the Amazon message board agree:

This book is so wonderful. Never mind the fact that I've been having a blast breaking out the crayons and coloring the beautifully drawn vaginas. But this book helps to de-mystify and remind women (or men) of the beauty of the female parts. This book contains about 25 drawings of flower-like genitalia. Each drawing is beautiful and unique - just in the same way that every woman is beautiful in a different way. This book presents women's sexuality is such a matter-of-fact and positive manner. I wish all women could see this book as a child, again as a teen, and again as an adult - to remember to always be proud and never be ashamed.

Vagina coloring books are not the only thing that present women's sexuality in a matter-of-fact or positive manner. Take this for example. And this. And this.

Labels: c-bomb, tomfoolery

The wife and I spent the Christian New Year within stumbling distance from the house by slogging it to a party in a foot and half of ice, slush and snow with a backpack full of booze. We welcomed in 2007 with burnt pizza, shots of Jack Daniels, warm Squirt chasers and countless games of Guitar Hero (Kaye and I rocked in 2007 with a head-to-head ax battle of Cheap Trick's "Surrender" neither of us caring that it was past midnight). On New Year's Day we invited the in-laws over to watch the Fiesta Bowl in High Definition and eat sweetened swine. Three native Idahoans were in the house as Boise State upset Oklahoma in overtime to go undefeated on the season and wreak havoc on BCS voting. Swept up in the heat of the win, famed running back and crochet master knitter Ian Johnson proposed to his girlfriend. In other news, Jessica Alba throws a football in a bikini.

Labels: l-i-v-i-n, new years, tomfoolery, wife

After reading this I became inspired to write a Chevy Truck commercial:

Cue John Mellencamp's 'Our Country'. Enter drunken redneck sucking down tall boys of Schlitz while driving down a dirt road in a Chevy half-ton pickup truck. Cut to grainy footage of herds of bison being slaughtered by US Calvary Troops in the late 19th century. Cut to drunken redneck lighting a non-filtered cigarette and swerving down the road. Cut to an incapacitated college freshman being date raped at a fraternity house over an American Flag. Cut to drunken redneck losing consciousness behind the wheel. Cut to homeless people standing in a soup kitchen line in the freezing cold. Cut to drunken redneck passing out and running down a hermaphrodite deer with seven legs. Cut to footage of the University of Miami-FIU brawl. Cut to drunken redneck shoving his face into the warm, mangled carcass of the freak deer. Drunken redneck lifts head, looks into the camera, smiles and gives the thumbs up signal as blood drips from his mouth. Drunken redneck slams his face back into the steaming dead animal. Cut to footage of the Oklahoma City bombing, the World Trade Center tragedy and Abu Ghraib prison. Flash Chevy Trucks logo. Fade out to John Mellencamp's 'Our Country'. Fin.

Labels: america, tomfoolery

I think the time is nigh to get me some face tattoos (random thought inspired by this guy). I am not going the swastika/lightning bolt/neo-Nazi route as I am not an ignorant hillbilly and am just looking for that extra something to set me apart from other candidates in a job interview. A power tie does not have the same effect as permanent facial modification when applying for a prison bitch, peep show mop-up boy or circus freak position.

Labels: tattoos, tomfoolery

A snowstorm is dumping a blanket of thick wetness across the Denver metro area today. I'm sitting in the warmth that is a firing furnace and blown out slippers, sucking down a tall mug of coffee that could strip paint, gazing out out the back door and watching vintage Ricardo Montalban Chrysler commercials. It's a good day to be alive and unemployed.

Labels: colorado, snow, tomfoolery, unemployment

After watching a provocative commercial during an episode of Judge Mathis, I am now contemplating a career in Medical and Insurance Billing. According to the real-life testimonial, the pay is decent, I can live the life I want and I will be joining the fast-paced world of health care. Advanced data entry rules! Stay tuned tomorrow when I will be debating a career in the fast-growing field of Aircraft and Aerospace Technical Maintenance.

Labels: tomfoolery, unemployment

Bob Arno makes a living studying pickpockets. A pickpocketing career would be a good move for an unemployed deviant like myself. If you invite me over for a barbecue and I squirt mustard all over you shirt and gank your wallet please don't get angry with me. I am just doing my job, baby.

Labels: tomfoolery, unemployment

After two days of throwing myself into the much-needed redesign of Broz Design, I ventured outside this morning to greet the garbage man with my trash. I did not set the trash cans out last night because of strong winds that would have knocked the trashcans over and strewn a weeks worth of dead soldiers, junk mail and steak gristle about the common area. That, and the sweet old woman across the alley turns into the garbage Nazi if you leave your trashcans out for more than a day or do not secure the lids to your refuse containers. I like Eleanor and do not wish to get into a fistfight with her so I respect her unwritten rules regarding the trash. The garbage man is a genial Hispanic fellow who speaks broken English and wanted to chat about the unit that burned down.

"See that burnt place over there?"
"Yes."
"Hard to back up garbage truck in there now."
"Because of all the charred debris and temporary police fence and shit?"
"Si."

The fact that I am posting this inane drivel only reinforces that fact that I really need a job.

Labels: tomfoolery, unemployment

My former coworkers and I have been waxing philosophically on all manner of things over the past week. This picture of vintage supermarket butchers spawned the following diatribe from DJ:

Do you want to work for the Food-O-Mat? Because I kind of do. It's the uniform. Chicks dig a man in uniform. Those were the days; when you could trust your butcher. You wanted a steak, you got a goddamn, corn-fed, natural raised cow slaughtered with love, gently carved up by Americans using American chainsaws, producing a piece of meat the butcher was happy to hand you and you were proud to serve your family. Shortly after this picture was taken I'm pretty sure Alice (the housekeeper from The Brady Bunch) started banging Mel the Butcher and suddenly the butcher was a star and too busy to take pride in his work. Eventually all the butchers were trying to bang housekeepers. With nobody around to keep the ranchers in check the quality of meat went down and the terrorists started winning. I'm not saying Alice and The Brady Bunch aided the terrorists or brought us into our current war, but they were there, man. They were there.

Labels: dj, tomfoolery, unemployment

The Germans are an odd and perplexing people; with their dreams of world domination, love for the Hasselhoff, Coprophilia obsession and pubic hair print panties.

Labels: pop culture, tomfoolery

The five most obviously drug-fueled television appearances ever. I love me some Crispin Glover on Angel Dust, James Brown full of bourbon (and song) and Richard Pryor in his prime coked to the eyeballs.

Labels: drugs, tomfoolery

If I could go back to college with the skills I acquired over my professional career, I would be making quality fake IDs and charging desperate underage drinkers $200 a smash for them (I would also be convincing more women to pose nude for me and explain that it was all for artistic purposes). In the mid to late 90s the internet was not as magical as it is today. You couldn't just buy a fake ID with your parent's credit card and have it over-nighted to you in time for weekend tavern revelries. No. Instead you had to pay some asshole stranger that smelled of cigarettes and claimed she was a born again Christian $40 to alter the dates on a good ID with improper fonts and colors and wait two months for it.

Labels: college, crime, tomfoolery

The Chinese have opened the world's first anger bar. Patrons can smash glasses, rant and even hit specially trained employees all while sucking down Tsingtaos. Denver's version of the anger bar occurs every weekend during last call in LoDo. Drunken fools spill out into the streets simultaneously and start shit with each other because they were first in line for a $2 burrito being sold out of a cooler. Or because your fraternity is better than that other homo’s fraternity. Or because you were looking at a guy's shivering slut girlfriend in a mini-skirt, tube top and high heels and it's thirteen degrees below zero outside.

Labels: colorado, drinking, fighting, tomfoolery

On Friday, Mel Gibson was touched for a DUI and spouted off at arresting officers with an anti-Semitic, obscenity-laden tirade that would have made Heinrich Himmler blush. Gibson concluded the outburst by calling one female officer "sugar tits." Well done, Mel. You just surpassed Ed Belfour for "Best Arrested Famous Person Intoxicated Shenanigans" (when Eddie was playing goal for the Dallas Stars police were called to a hotel room occupied by him and a women afraid of his drunkenness. He attempted to bribe the arresting officers with a billion dollars to let him walk). No report on whether or not Mel was sporting his excellent 'Saddam-In-Exile' beard at the time of arrest.

Labels: drinking, pop culture, tomfoolery

In a few hours, the debauchery that is my bachelor party will begin. I have been drinking water and eating horrible, greasy foods all morning in the attempts of proliferating a preemptive strike against the alcohol I will consume in the next twelve hours. Go Karts will be driven and crashed, wild game such as buffalo, elk and quail will be eaten, liquor will be drunk and my cousin, fresh off a plane from Kuwait, may end up either in detox or in traction.

Labels: drinking, tomfoolery, wedding

• Hell Pizza is a chain of pizza joints in New Zealand. The specialty pizzas are named after the seven deadly sins and a coffin tears away from the box for your "remains."
• The Cookie Monster searches deep within himself and asks: Is me really monster?
• Ninjutsu Grand Master Masaaki Hatsumi: "Always be able to kill your students."

Labels: food, link goodness, ninjas, tomfoolery

Portland, Oregon is a gorgeous city resting on the banks of the Willamette and Columbia Rivers. If the future wife and I were looking to move there, I am certain I could find work with the local police department as a sketch artist.

Labels: career, tomfoolery, wife

• Subversive Easter uses for the over-sugared marshmallow confection commonly known as Peeps: The crucifixion and coverings for your naughty bits.
• Mall Easter Bunny throws a rabbit punch.
• A map of the United States that breaks down religion by state and county. Individual religious maps can be viewed here.

Labels: easter, link goodness, religion, tomfoolery

Hair metal dissertations that tug on the old Steelheart:

• Mr. Sun on the Scorpion's Rock You Like a Hurricane.
• Izzle Pfaff on Whitesnake's Here I Go Again.

The Here I Go Again video filled my pubescent years with countless hours of masturbatory fodder. Tawny Kitaen's ruby tresses flowed in the wind as sheer linen robes exposed her bulbous breasts and buttocks while she stretched and gyrated her limber body all over the hood of David Coverdale's car. It was a sight to behold. Unfortunately for Tawny, this was the zenith of her career. Soon after she defiled that black muscle car, her life and looks degenerated in the magical world of happy dust, prescription medication and attacks on her ex-husband with a shoe.

Labels: drugs, music, tomfoolery

Today in History:

On March 10, 1974, Second Lieutenant Hiroo Onoda of the Imperial Japanese Army emerges from the jungle and surrenders to Philippine authorities. He thought World War II was still underway and waged a 29 year guerrilla battle killing thirty people and engaging in several shootouts with the police.

For some odd reason, I can relate to this.

Labels: tomfoolery, war

Joe Rogan dominates My Space. Rules of engagement in email combat: Smiley face shorthand is the antithesis of badass.

Labels: pop culture, tomfoolery

• Bestiality is now illegal in Washington inspired by a pervert that was thankfully removed from the human gene pool by a giant horse cock.
• Skyscraper escape pods inspired by the the victims that plummeted to their deaths from the burning floors of the World Trade Center.
• A marriage contract inspired by a personality disorder.
• A passion for wrestling not inspired by a ruptured testicle.

Labels: link goodness, perversion, tomfoolery

Happiness is a useless white supremacist getting smacked around. My favorite thing about this story (aside from the image) is the reporter's photo caption: White Power with a magenta hue. Good times.

Labels: prison, tomfoolery

Watching the Winter Olympics for the past week has lead me to one undeniable truth: there is nothing more gay than single male figure skating. I do not deny the skill and hard work it must take to do all those tricks on ice, but an extravagant swan outfit? All I ask is that our diminutive homosexuals dressed as princess fairies are better at silly little ice spins than other country's diminutive homosexuals dressed as princess fairies. Way to fuck that up, Johnny Weir.

Labels: sports, tomfoolery

• A minor league hockey promotion that is much better than mixed gender, on-ice dodge ball: the man with the hairiest back.
  
• Wikipedia for the St. Valentine's Day Massacre.
  
• Tom's unholy seed no longer needs its host body upon entering the world, therefore, the host's usefulness is no more.

Labels: link goodness, pop culture, sports, tomfoolery, valentines day

• Bea Arthur wrestles a velocoraptor.
• Man impregnates teenager. Man marries impregnated teenager. Man goes to court in NASCAR tie (click on image). Man goes to jail. Moral of the story: If you impregnate an underage girl, do not wear a NASCAR tie to court.
• A low-speed internet connection can be frustrating, but whatever happened to running down to the Circle K and picking up a pack of smokes and a Penthouse Forum?

Labels: link goodness, perversion, pop culture, tomfoolery

After my discussion with Jake and much deliberation, I decided this would be the mix tape I would create for the Son of God:

1. Jesus Built My Hotrod - Ministry
2. So Fresh, So Clean - Outkast
3. Down On My Knees - The Crucifucks
4. The Man Comes Around - Johnny Cash
5. Kill The Poor - Dead Kennedys
6. Holy Diver - Dio
7. When I Get To Heaven - Ice Cube
8. Killing in the Name Of - Rage Against the Machine
9. Sister Christian - Night Ranger
10. Sympathy For The Devil - Rolling Stones
11. If You Love Someone Set Them On Fire - Dead Milkmen
12. Epiphany - Bad Religion
13. Something To Believe In - Poison

I know Jesus was a subversive hippy and would probably enjoy some Grateful Dead, Phish, Widespread Panic and Cat Stevens, but that is not the point. The purpose of the mix tape is not just to throw on a bunch of music that the recipient likes and is familiar with. Making a mix tape for someone is the ultimate truth; it strips down all the walls society builds up around human relationships and then rebuilds them through the majesty of song. That, and if you give a mix tape to girl hopefully it will get you laid.

Labels: jake, music, pop culture, religion, tomfoolery

Being as its Martin Luther King, Jr. Day and I am white, it seems only fitting and respectful to Dr. King to bash white celebrities that I despise. I am sure Dr. King would agree that all that brotherhood and hand-holding business would be out the window if these jag offs were standing next to him:

Scott Stapp. Can someone please grab this guy with their arms wide open and squeeze him until his eyeballs pop out of their sockets? If not, we will have to keep getting updates like this. I checked out his bitch's website and noticed that she bears an uncanny resemblance to the brunette Carolina Panther cheerleader that got arrested for trading fur and slap boxing in a public restroom.

Peyton Manning. The most entertaining part of the NFL playoffs for me is watching Peyton Manning fail. Take a seat next to Dan Marino, Peyton. You have a long career of post-season disappointments and bad commercials ahead of you.

Tara Reid. Please bury your face in a mountain of cocaine and breathe deep ala Tony Montana, Tara. How Taradise has not been canceled yet reinforces why the plug needs to be pulled on the E! Network.

Labels: pop culture, sports, tomfoolery

Calculus taught by dirty skanks in bikinis; installments one and two.

Labels: tomfoolery

• Stress balls keep you out of trouble. Condoms stuffed with flour do not.
• A little league soccer team and partner-swapping swingers share a hotel. Hijinks ensue.
• This brand of intimidation only works if you can take a punch.

Labels: link goodness, sports, tomfoolery

Jake just strolled into my office with a belated Christmas gift; The Modern Drunkard, which gives me a reason to drink every day. Thanks for enabling me, Jake. I admire your immense liquor cabinet.

Labels: drinking, jake, tomfoolery

Ass-vertising equals marketing genius (see the idea in practice here and here). I will admit and make no apologies for my shallow objectification of the female form, but you cannot tell me that hot girls, short skirts and taut asses will not sell some goddamn film.

Labels: tomfoolery

I was pulling for the Indianapolis Colts to go undefeated this season. Not because I like them, mind you, but because I am sick of the 1972 Miami Dolphin alumni celebrating like the worthless, glory deprived, ex-jocks that they are. Their lives are so empty that they follow undefeated NFL teams around the country with a bottle of champagne to open when said undefeated teams lose. In that fabled 1972 season, the Miami Dolphins played only two teams with a winning record. They are proud of this accomplishment? That is like being proud of the valedictorian honor at summer school. I equate their "record" to that of a runt bastard I attended high school with who bragged about going undefeated in NHL '95 on Sega (he failed to mention that he turned offsides and icing off, played against the computer on easy mode and forced unfair trades through the league that netted him Wayne Gretzky, Mats Sundin, Mario Lemieux, Jeremy Roenick, Ray Bourque, Al Iafrate and Patrick Roy). I can do without Bob Griese telling me how magical the '72 season was on Sports Center every time the "record" remains unbroken, too. You know what would have been magical, Bob? Teaching your son how to throw a goddamn football and how to handle his liquor. Were you not on the bench nursing sore fallopian tubes most of that 1972 season anyway? So just shut the fuck up. That goes for all of you.

Sidenote: Dig this video on fainting goats.

Labels: sports, tomfoolery

Video footage of a ten year old girl firing a 50 caliber machine gun (at least it looks like a 50 caliber machine gun in the grainy video). I wish I could say seeing a child with firearms sickens me; instead, it makes me jealous. Notice the way her aim resembles that of one of John Rambo's enemies.

Labels: guns, tomfoolery

• "The Taser is relatively accurate, but when someone is moving like that, it does not matter if you have a Taser or a pistol."
• Doll houses plus glued vacuum cleaner lint equals art.
• The Black Cocks (that is the New Zealand National Badminton Team to you) is considering changing their name to something less strong. Pu