Dogs dressed as people.

I can't decide. Are dogs dressed as people the most amazing thing in the history of my life, or is it stupid and I hate people?

The dilemma lies here:

Most dogs in sweaters I'm like "that's fucking gay*"
----
*Dear actual homosexuals,
I understand speaking my thoughts truthfully was both hurtful and in some way contributes to delaying your attainment of true equality, which I care very deeply about. But without honesty, we wouldn't even be able to have that dialogue.

So please, stop being such a fag about it.
----
But then you see that one awesome dog wearing Red Baron Goggles and you're like "WTF I'm gonna get this dog a write in for President of Dogs."

Danny Wegman calendars:
Fucking retarded.

Putting my dog in a wedding dress so we can laugh and watch him know we're making fun of him with shame eyes on:
AWESOME

Westies with sweaters:I would burn you alive with gasoline.

Pitbull wearing colored hat with the Poindexter windmilly thing on top of it: RAD TO THE MAX

This all goes back to one thing you guys:

Doing embarrassing things to creatures that can't stop you (babies, animals, men under 160 pounds) is always funny.

Except:
Thinking putting your kid or your puppy in a Louis Vuitton stroller is normal:
You should be left alone in rural Africa.

See, if you use the embarrassing experience to flash your wealth, or any dressing of creatures if you live in a house built modularly in the last 15 years in the suburbs of LA, you can shut your fucking trap, get that Chihuahua out of that purse, and throw yourself into a smeltery like Terminator 2.

I think now is the right time to share the story of Tommy, the retard.

Yes, retard.

Not the way you lascivious types use it. . . He was slow. . . as they say, RETARDED.

He worked at the town administration building when I worked nary a moment as a town census taker in high school.

Let us begin at the beginning.

It's not that I got fired or quit quickly. . . I worked nary a moment in the four years myself and a few other dudes were employed with the town.

Typical day: (paid 8:30-4)

1. 9-9:15: Arrive
2) 9-10: Play asshole without beer and eat egg sandwiches.
3)10-11: Jerry Springer in the air conditioned video room.
4)11-12: 90210
5)12-12:45: Lunch! Slurpees!
6)12:45-1: Go to five houses and ask if they still live there.
7)1-2:30: Choice of following: Wiffle Ball Tournament, play spit, go to mall and sleep at mattress store.
8)2:30: I'm already at home.

Now, during that point where we're watching Jerry Springer and 90210, we often see Tommy, the administration building janitor.

They put him there for fear that evil children would taunt him for his pock marked face and soft/vapid eyes.

Picture a slightly annoying but too sweet to hate 6 year old in the more untouchable version of Danny Devito's body (if there is such a thing)

He would always say things such as, "Milkshakes guys?"
What? Amazing. This retard loves milkshakes (which we couldn't ever buy him because he would get nuts on sugar(which we did buy him once and he went nuts))

Another gem:
"It's Friday guys, DANCE YA PANTS OFF!" and start dancing while holding a handtruck full of books and us cheering him on.

I never had a problem with that dancing because it's harmless on our part and that little hobbit got some exercise.

Then on his birthday all the people in the building got him a gift and a cake. Sweet right?

WRONG.

the gift was a stick figure shirt that said "duh" on it.

He loved it. and wore it almost every day.

This poor retarded fellow, his brain made of wood mulch, obviously didn't get that buying him that shirt was so fucked up of everyone.

I mean, what kind of assholes are we that we let that poor man wear that shirt when we all knew it was at least 2 sizes too large on him.

More like "Duh" on our part you guys.

Duh on our part.

Joni Mitchell Redux, brought to you by Ryan Reynolds

As of the last blog post, some people have come to me with concerns that I went too hard at Joni Mitchell’s looks.

Because I’m a magnanimous fuck, I’m mentioning it here. However, in my defense, I didn’t make Joni Mitchell look like Carly Simon came straight from a car accident to a photo shoot.

When you want to blame me for going Hoss on her looks, you should blame yourselves, you've created this monster. Or blame God. Joni Mitchell is proof that Jewish God is the real God, because he’s the wrathful God.

America's so obsessed with looks you guys!

There hasn't been a bald president since the advent of television.

Name one unattractive actress who's in romantic movies despite her looks. We’ll believe Scarlett Johannsen falls madly in love with Bill Murray who’s cheek skin looks like Special Agent Johnson/Fratelli brother #1’s, but good luck getting someone to buy tickets to a movie where Van Wilder porks Kathy Bates. You know goes to that movie? Women over 35 with acne.

In Mexico, if your nickname is Fat Juan, you don’t take it personally, it’s just that there’s (obviously, we’re talking about Mexicans here) a 5’2” Juan everyone calls Tiny Juan or Poquito Juan.

Let’s loosen the girdles here.

Kate Winslet is not a “bigger woman” she’s a bigger actress, which is not the same. She's hotter than summer sun.

You may wonder why you always think the girls look hotter in the season finale of Survivor than at the beginning.

It’s called TV mind control (Jews), and why many men want to bang Olive Oil (the cartoon, not the liquid)

I’m not above my own, albeit explainable love for, not a thin woman, but a tone, even ripped woman.

Angela Bassett, Jada Pinkett, Jessica Biel circa Blade III.

And yes, the much maligned Hilary Swank, who I’ve loved since "The Next Karate Kid".

While everyone else is watching Modern Family thinking about Sophia Vergara in a 70's Nightclub setting, I’m thinking about Julie Bowen on a treadmill listening to Coldplay rockin' a sports ponytail.

This however, cannot be helped. Although it's an infinitesimally small part of my taste in women, I was born on Long Island, the official home of the 45 year old gym rat divorcee on the prowl. It's ingrained in my upbringing, just like somehow being attracted to women who wear Cleopatra amounts of makeup.

It’s also why, no matter how I try, I’ll always contemplate buying a sweater vest and wearing it with no shirt underneath.

I will always primarily hate and distrust the thin. If I could just gas chamber the entire Pitchfork Festival and get rid of hipster community thins, that’d be all right too.

I saw a chick from Madmen and the sister from Dexter a couple of weeks ago, barely. To put it gently, I’d be surprised if either of them have had a period in the last two years.

Let's get them a Red Cross ship full of lentils or something, cause thems two bitches look like Ethiopian Coat Hangers right now.

What I'm saying is, never turn your back on Adrien Brody, Gwyneth Paltrow, or Natalie Portman in Black Swan or Hotel Chevalier. The only person of that build who we can always rely on?

Mr. Ferley

Duh.

What is the saddest Christmas song of all time?

WRONG.  The answer is River by Joni Mitchell.  Not by Sarah McLachlan, not by Celine Dion, not by Alanis or whoever else may have covered that song.

The reason it's  Joni Mitchell's version is because it's her song.  (If you don't know the lyrics, read them and listen to the song here first if you want.)

That pathetic, off-beat sadness she invented (You're welcome Neko Case!).  It makes me want to vomit, cry and then choke on my crying with my face in my pillow.  I want to just wet the cuffs of my sweater with my tears and look up at the collage I made of that time I took pictures of my feet at the beach for solace.

Joni Mitchell makes me feel like I'm watching one TV with the starving children in Africa commercial and another TV right next to it has an episode of Hoarders on it.  And my eyelids are taped open.

You don't have to like it, but you do have to admit Joni Mitchell is powerful shit.
 
I'll grant you a few things here:
1)She always sings offbeat, and may have no sense of rhythm.
2)She is the musical version of the movie Terms of Endearment having a baby with Lou Reed.
3)Joni Mitchell is as ugly as a person can be without inborn deformity.  Amazing talent, somehow intriguing, but nonetheless, we're talking about an Eleanor Roosevelt situation.

Pour example:

 

Notes for Joni Mitchell on taking photos:

1)This is one of your best latter day photos. In your youth, you looked like a waitress from Sarasota. Now you look like Mia Farrow got caught in the Richard Pryor crack fire.

2)You you look like you just cracked open your shipment of new Coldwater Creek clothes, had your grand kids put your lipstick on for you, and after a hundred and fifty years of alternating between taking anti psychotics and going off them so you can fall into a deep emotional crevasse, write 9 good tracks and 3 what-the-fuck-were-you-thinking tracks, this photo of you smiling like a helmet kid at a goldfish was as engaged as the photographer could get you in an hour and a half.

3)Your hands have more veins than a body builder.  Looking at your hands is like watching Pumping fucking Iron.

4)IMPORTANT:  DO NOT PUT YOUR FEET IN THE FOREGROUND OF A PHOTO EVER AGAIN.  In fact, sleep with your shoes on.  Your goddamned toes look like Mickey Rourke's fucking hands.

Great music though. Great.

Let's not be sexists here straight men:
Melissa Etheridge would be twice as famous if she was born a man.
Bonnie Raitt is fucking awesome.
I've made mix tapes with Indigo Girls' songs on them.  Fuck you.

Anyway, the song.

So, imagine you're the guy in this song.

You must be enamored by her personality, mystique or music because you're dating her despite being River Monster.  Yet, she's so selfish and fucked in the mind, you're forced to leave her in search of a woman who looks human.

Now imagine you were Joni Mitchell in this song.  During a lonely Christmas-time without your recently lost lover to exhange gifts and fall asleep to Christmas Tree lights with, you realize that you suck.

You suck because you're selfish and insane, and eventually, everyone will realize that and leave you.

That doesn't make for happy Christmas times, ch'all.

If you're Joni Mitchell in that song, you'd want to kill yourself.

And if you did, the world would be way less ugly.

Does God just hate Brett Favre or the entire Minnesota Vikings organization?

I mean, he exploded his shoulder (multiple times), and then COLLAPSED THE METRODOME.  They say God is perfect, but I'm pretty sure, after scientists recently discovered multiple universes, that God might have more shit on his plate than we though, and missed the mark by about a day and a half when trying to have snow kill only Brett Favre (and, for his own good, Tavaris Jackson).

I know that wouldn't be the first snow death, but it'd certainly be the most welcome.

The funny thing is, I remember loving Brett Favre, ever since NFL films showed this clip of him talking to his young runningback (Ahman Green) and said, during a game, "Hey man, next time we got the ball, you know who you gotta run over?"  "Who?" Brett Favre rips a giant thunder clap out of his ass and says "me cause you're down wind*"
*All quotes subject to my invention, but fart definitely happened and was awesome, during a playoff game.

Snow really covers the full spectrum from delightful, beautiful, and awesome, to horrible natural disaster.

Certainly there are more deadly Acts of God (which will be the title of my Dennis Quaid/Hilary Swank mid-winter release Supernatural-suspense-horror-thriller), but none of the other ones are ever considered as much fun.

I love snow, I don't care if it's half way up the door, I'm hard.  If you hate snow, fucking move or shut the fuck up.  Go someplace hot where your Christmas decorations look fucking stupid because it's 70 degrees out and you're wearing shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. It's not a fucking Jimmy Buffett concert, it's goddamned Christmas.  Snow is the tits, and there's something intrinsically wrong with people who grow up in America without a minimum of 2 months of snuggle in, lock down, catch up on movies or binge on shows like the greatest drama ever on television by far, The Wire (don't rent it, just buy it.  The whole thing.  Really.)  That's when shit is real.  There's no place to go but your couch.  It's the REASON so many relationships start in the fall.  Nobody wants to snuggle in alone. You need, at MINIMUM, a dog (and nothing's funnier than a dog tearing ass around a yard in a foot of snow).  Those two months are when you're forced to get to know people better because there's nothing the fuck else to do.  Break out the jackets and the cream sauces, winter's in ya ass.

Apparently someone at the NY Times stole my extremely old joke about how when there's a blizzard, the most purchased things before it comes are bread, milk and eggs (unless you're my dad in which case you go out and buy milk, those little Sno Balls and those little donettes, which, although not really good, are plenty doughy and certainly sugary to the point of burning your throat on the way down (which is why the pH basic milk is needed))  I don't understand why these are the things people need, like everyone's thinking "man, once this blizzard hits, I'm gonna make the fuck out of some French toast."

We never made snowmen as a kid.  I think it was probably because my mom is Jewish and didn't want to "waste a perfectly good scarf."  Snowmen are cool, but where the fuck do you get two pieces of coal for eyes if you don't live in West Virginia? And a corn cob pipe?  I don't want to go to the fucking costume store and buy the hillbilly costume, I just want to make a snowman.

Actually, I take it back.  Snowmen are fucking dumb.  Snowmen are dumber than bakeries that only make cupcakes.  What the fuck are you doing? JUST CUPCAKES?  Or in Southern California, independently owned donut shops?   What the fuck kind 90-person-2-bedroom apartment-sleeps-with-shower-towels-as-blankets family can live off the profits from a shit looking donut shop?  Would you open a hardware store that only makes keys?

At least a good donut is delicious.  I have yet to find a cupcake I can't live without.  They look awesome, but much like a good sandwich, I find that most places neglect the bread, or in this case, the cake.  Hey,  thanks for all your hard work putting 7 inches of coconut frosting on this goddamned cupcake with a piping bag, but I'm gonna end up taking half of it off because my doctor asked me to limit my butter intake to 2 sticks a day.  Thanks for completely overdoing it and charging me $4 for your hipster bullshit.

I've seen Stranger Than Fiction, and while Maggie Gyllenhaal may look like a bulldog, but you're no her, and whoever gave you a business loan is part of the untold story of why America's economy collapsed.  I'm gonna get a $45,000 loan and open as store that only sells root vegetables.  I'm gonna call it Beet Street.

No, I'm not, because that's fucking stupid.  If that business model worked, the world would be covered in Leftoriums and yarn stores instead of Wal-Marts and Targets.

Final Lesson:
Stop over-frosting shit and learn that hipster chic is cliche. Take out that cheek stud, stop dying your hair with Manic Panic, make some other goddamned fucking baked goods and get a better recipe for Red Velvet cake, because your red velvet tastes like Jiffy Corn bread mix you cunt.

OK, I might have gone too far right there.  Let's dial it back from 11.  Your red velvet cake tastes like the shitty animal crackers that come in the plastic bear with butter and food coloring you cunt.

C-bomb!



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You know when you're in the shower...

and you can do what I call Pinky Blasters (blog written for WHOLESOME prison lesbians), which is when you stick out your pinkies in the shower and  the water runs down to the tips and then shoots off the edges, allowing you to guide the blasters and demolish stray girlfriend hairs and the boogers you just rocketed out once your nose humidified from the hot water?  I'll frequently find myself locating a booger by the drain and calling out "switching to  Pinky Blasters" in the calm and tempered voice of a battle hardened shower warrior.  Long black girlfriend hairs are typically blasted to the sound of a loud hissing noise like a radiator turning on, boogers (obviously) make the sound of rock exploding, and anything big like a ring around the tub after dog bath gets treated with that laser humming noise they use in movies when Light Sabres get used to melt through doors (good thinking  Qui Gon).

I think my parents always thought those long showers were me smackin' off, when really it was me in the shower acting like Francis in the bathtub in Pee Wee's Big Adventure.  My parents must have heard those noises, did they think I was having military robot sex fantasies or something (yet another reason to reference Cherry 2000(now available on Netfliix streaming!))?

My girlfriend's face and my face are fitted such that when kissing, her cute little elf nose can often be found inside on of my nostrils (one of the reasons I mercilessly do full open nostril blow outs in the shower (followed by a Pinky Blasting sesh).  I can only imagine we're in for a lot of shared illness in our lives together, and I'm already both part Jewish and all overweight, which, combined, means I'll be dead before I can find out if the Mayans were right.

First of all; which one of these Discovery Channel obsessions of folklore doesn't seem to go: 2012/Mayan things, Sasquatch, Aliens/Area51, or THE SEARCH FOR THE HISTORICAL JESUS.

Here's where you can tell which one doesn't belong if you're having trouble deciding.  Let's review some of the typical interviewees for these shows, respectively:

Search for Historical Jesus people:

Dr. Hui Yung Wang - Director Religious and Classical Studies - McGill University
Wearing sweater and wire rimmed glasses - works at respected (albeit Canadian) university.
Nerd and Religious knowledge Cred: Confirmed

Dr. David Smith - Director of On-site Archaeology - University of Cairo - Egypt
Wearing hat and boots with shorts, talking in front of a dusty ass looking background - Looks like scene in Jurassic Park where Sam Neill feigns gutting faggy brat with sick raptor claw.
 Jew/Arab History and having a sweet outfit Cred: Confirmed

Other shows:
Michael LeVay - Author - The end of the World: Nostradamus, 2012, and the Bible
Black Turtle Neck, Power Crystal necklace, 4 rings, all silver, none a wedding band. Definitely sporting beard dandruff on a basic cable show.
Author of scientifically or historically credible piece of comparitive literature Cred: WRONG

Allen Moss - Director, The Center for Bigfoot Research
Looks and sounds like Roseanne, speaks angrily to camera about how many acres of woods there are humans have never been. Breathes like Gandolfini in the Sopranos.  Possibly on cocaine.
Catching or spotting the Bigfoot before taken to heaven by Heart Attack Cred: WRONG

Melvin Mills - Alien Abductee/ Enthusiast
6'2" 165lb. leather skinbag from in Bolo Tie and Gold Stone Mason belt buckle.  Shoulders like a coat hanger.  Talks like a mildly stroked out Willie Nelson.  
Probable alien abductee and novelty store owner in Roswell Township, NM Cred: CONFIRMED
Old dude awesomeness quotient as %/100: ERROR: DO NOT RECOGNIZE
Load request: "Old dude awesomeness quotient as number/100" ,8,1: A MILLION

OLD PERSON CUTENESS EXPLOSION

God Bless America.

Sometimes you can't think of anything to write about,

until you get on a city bus.

Question 1: How many Men's XL two tone leather waist jackets with spandex bottoms and a 4 color stitched Mickey Mouse logo have been made in human history?

Question 2: What percentage of those jackets can be found at Goodwill, Salvation Army, and other places where hobos buy their clothes?

Once we've eliminated this large percentage of these jackets, leaving only those jackets in non-homeless circulation, we can begin to deduce how the 44 year old white man dressed like the General Manager of a Staples could have procured this item.


If you could have dinner with anyone living or dead, probably a lot of people would say they'd have it with people like Abe Lincoln, Jesus, Martin Luther King, Ghandi, and the other people who are in those weird paintings of heaven with everyone cool in it like they're being like "yo it's tits up here what are you doing on earth, I just played Chinese Checkers with Mao Zedong and Chris Penn" 

I would like to have dinner with the guy wearing the Mickey Mouse jacket.

It was really good leather too.  That's the worst/best part.  This son of a bitch was probably walking around a mall and happened upon this beauty hanging front and center in the Disney Store, right after he got himself a Build-A-Bear for his birthday.

I thought that was going to be the best part of my day.  But it got better.

Phase Two: The Gay Black Nerd

On to the bus walks a gay black nerd, and despite my fixation on the quality double stitching and spacious bottom bunching on the Mickey jacket, Gay Black Nerd and I lock eyes, and he's in love.

Without question, the two groups of people who are most interested in having sex with me are:
1)Femme gay men
2)Middle aged black women (not black women from the middle ages, those are called Moorish Maids (THE PAINTED MAN! (THE WITCH!))

So now it seems, like in Captain Planet when the kids put their rings together (Heart? Really? And they give it to the little Mayan kid who looks like Dora The Explorer in his safari vest), fate has strung together these two groups into this guy.  My ultimate wheelhouse: A slightly Femme, gay, middle-aged black nerd of the highest order.  As far as nerds go, he has max level ups.

He was on the phone with someone and had almost the same voice as  if you combined Professor Frink, and Tyra Banks when she has white people on her show. 

A few compliments:
1)Nice Dragon Novel
2)Nice super tight thermal.
3)Nice rendition of Alicia's "Samsonite Man".  Jesus Christ.
4)Nice red clown boots.  You look like you stole those boots from one of the shitty eighties wrestlers who they wouldn't even bother to give fake names to.

"In this corner THE UNDERTAKER!"
"And in this corner, it's Dan Peters!"

5)I can't believe Dr. Cornell West, considered by many to be the first prolific black nerd since Frederick Douglass, loaned you his glasses, and let you put milk bottle frames in them.

The only reason I would still choose the Mickey Mouse guy, even though gay black nerd was amazing too, is that I don't want GBN to get the wrong idea.

I'd also consider having dinner with Hitler, just because I want him to cook and show me what kind of vegetarian recipes were available in Western Europe in the 30's.

Maybe Hitler was so insane because all he ever ate is fucking pasta.  I ate nothing but Ramen for 3 years, and it definitely had permanent negative effects on my neural synapses.

It's not like getting Mercury poisoning from too much sushi.  Holocausts are way more serious than increased Mercury levels you guys, seriously.

I guess we better call someone about getting all that Goddamned Couscous out of the Middle East if we're gonna get anywhere over there.

And tell Don Cheadle to stop sending ships full of semolina to Darfur.