Dear Obama: What the World Needs Now is a GANGSTER

Barack, this is fucking serious.  This is 4th and 19, down 6, with 37 seconds to go in the Super Bowl.  You have before you a unique moment in world history, and you are the quarterback of the best team.  This is your chance to be Churchill laying on top of buildings in London screaming "Fuck you!" at the Waffen S.S. as they rained bombs on the capital, or FDR telling everyone to get fucked while he handled bidness.  The United States just had it's credit rating dropped because everyone with half a dick knows we're all but fucked.  Europe is at the precipice of monumental financial disaster which will result in them fracturing back into the nationalistic aggression which brought us Napoleon, Bismarck, WWI and WWII.  There is a goddamned mob running amok in London for Christ's sake.  We're in the middle of two useless tit wars that are fucking killing us financially and bankrupting us morally.  And the straw that broke the camel's back....a fucking hurricane just waltzed into New York Fucking City and shut down the subway system.  20 years ago a hurricane tries to invade New York City, it probably gets stabbed, a gang-beating minimum.  The world hungers for Mad Max.  America thirsts for Braveheart (Gibson hates playing heroes, doesn't he?).  And who are you giving them?  Fucking Carlton Banks, thats who.  Please, for the love of Crom, snap out of your goddamned "Change" coma and go straight gangstah on all these mutherfuckers right now!!!  Not next month, not after the election, but tomorrow.  You are home from vacation and it is time to put heads to bed.  These political parties, which are barely discernible from one another at this point, are the biggest bullshit in China dude.  Useless fucks, all of them.  No interest in getting anything done, at all.  Nothing but bitching, whining, and blaming each other for the problems they are paid to solve.  If you listen Obama, and listen right now, there is still time to act.  This is what you can, and most certainly should, do:

Drop your pussy-assed Carlton Banks "let's compromise" bullshit that is designed only to get you reelected.  Everyone sees through the ruse, so just let it go.  Drop the suit and tie, and show up to Capitol Hill tomorrow in a Sean Jean sweatceudo and a bandana with a sideways, straight-billed Raiders hat over it, sporting Air Force Ones.  Channel your inner O-Dog from "Menace II Society".  Walk into that Capitol Building with an an entourage blaring the most aggressive Tupac you can find from a boom box, with a fucking gangster lean and yell, "Break yo self bitches, O-Bomb bout to preach!"  Walk up to John Boehner, pull out a gat, and shoot him directly in the orange fucking head.  As an Ohioan, I am deeply embarrassed by this pussy.  He tans, he cries, he is a moron.  No one will lament his necessary death.  I would then recite Clint Eastwood's speech from the brothel at the end of Unforgiven.  Tell everyone in the building that if they don't want to die, to turn around and leave out the back door.  Tell them they are all gonna pay for what they done to Ned.  Turn around and find John Kerry.  Grab him by the collar and pistol-whip him right in the horse face.  Don't even offer an explanation.  Tell him if the next words out of his mouth are not "Whatever you say O-Bomb", he's getting capped.  A pistol-whipping can only improve that mug.  After this business is completed, I'd call Nancy Pelosi out onto center stage.  Make it seem like you are going to say something nice about her.  Then pull out a bottle of Dom, shake it up and start spraying it all over her face.  Shoot the floor around her feet and scream "Dance for us bitch!".  The first person who says something other than "Yessir!", walk up to them and stick the gun in their mouth.  Just start yelling "What the fuck you say bout my momma?!"  Now you've got everyone's attention.  You've left your Kansas behind my friend.  You've shed Carlton Banks and become Denzel Washington in "Man on Fire".  Killing for sport.  Now that you are calling the shots, you've got to make the hard decisions that none of these pussies and sleazebags are willing to make because it might get them unelected.  This is what G-Dubbyah did.  He just did whatever the fuck he wanted.  Unfortunately every decision he made was absolutely terrible and detrimental to the future of the nation and the world.  You've got to reverse all that shit.  Bring everyone home from Iraq and Afghanistan.  Put them to work rebuilding at home.  Trust me, plenty of shit is broken or about to break.  They are going to call you a socialist or say you are acting like a king.  But do you know who else they said that about?  Franklin Delanor Fucking Ballgame Roosevelt, that's who.  Do you think FDR cared?  He was too busy getting more ass than a fucking toilet seat, from a wheel chair mind you.  When times are darkest you do not need your leaders sitting around arguing over who fucked whose boyfriend back in '93 or who stiffed who for a $1,700 lap dance tab at The Titanium Titty in Tampa during the Young Democrats Convention in '01.  They need a warrior, a Kenyan Masai tribesman if you will, to start kicking ass and taking some fucking names.  Who gives a shit if the Tea Party calls you a socialist?  80% of them are racist, and I doubt 20% of them could correctly answer "What is socialism?" on a multiple choice exam, even if the other 3 choices are A) Ocean B) Tree and C) Car.  Just to be safe, I'd have them all rounded up and imprisoned in a labor camp in Nevada somewhere.  The GOP and the Democrats may be useless, but this rag tag army of unemployed, racist, xenophobic, jingoist, uninformed, tax-evading morons are NOT the answer.  I'd gladly trade any 10 of these assholes "guarding" the border for just 1 hardworking Mexican that wants to cross it.

What do you need Obama to make you realize where we are and what is needed?  Opportunity to go down as one of the all time greats is bending over in front of you, with it's skirt hiked up and undies on the floor.  Just. Stick. It. In. Brah.  Crom help us all if you keep pussy-footing around and we end up with some Bachmann'esque dipshit taking over in '13.  Where is the guy who voted against invading Iraq a decade ago?  Fucking find him, and find him fast. 

Movie Review: "Soul Surfer" Gets 4 1/2 Stars

Out of 100,000,000 stars.  The absolute worst movies get 1 star.  The best movies get 100,000,000 stars.  I give this movie 4 1/2 stars. I guess I'm not the target audience.  I'm not sure who is the target audience--maybe really, really, really fucking lame people.  What is amazing about this "film" is how quickly you end up rooting for the shark.  My biggest disappointment was that the shark never came back and killed everyone.  It was the only chance of saving the movie.  And please tell me, what in Sam Holy Hell is Dennis Quaid doing?  He is on heroin, right?  Dennis Quaid has to be feeding a silverback gorilla of a heroin addiction.  It is the only way to explain why he continues to agree to these powerfully shitty movies.  It can't be that he reads the script and says, "Sign me up!".  Dennis, we can get you the help you need.  But the first step is to recognize that you need help.  There was at least one winner in this movie--Helen Hunt's body.  Way to keep it together Helen.  Obviously your career is fucked if you are starring in this movie and you're serious about it.  But at least you've taken care of what you can control.  Kudos for that.  As far as the biggest loser in this movie--and it isn't Dennis Quaid because he can't control himself or this path of unwatchable Disneyesque movies he's starring in because he is a known commodity--is undoubtedly Carrie Underwood.  What a virtuoso performance!  Wait, does "virtuoso" mean "A performance so utterly horrifying that you grabbed a poker from your log fire and immediately smote your own eyes out and could never experience a Carrie Underwood generated boner again in your life"?  If so, then this was a virtuoso performance.  Please, for the love of credibility, can we all agree that Carrie is never in another movie so long as she lives.  Jenna Jameson could have given a far more believable effort.  You have to respect that her Christian Crusader gang she was in charge of maintained that the protagonist's arm being ripped off by a shark was "Part of God's plan".  I have never, and I will never understand this line of reasoning.  Why would God make something horrifically awful happen to you, in order for some other result down the road?  Is he that sadistic?  Is he the guy from "Saw"?  If I was trying to do some big things in my life, and hired a career coach, and he said "First step, we need to paint your arm with chum and have you stick it in this tank full of bull sharks.  After this, we'll change the world, I promise."  I would tell that guy to get fucked so fast you wouldn't even see it.  How can you fall for this shit?  "God needed me to have my spine severed in a freak muskie fishing accident so that I could then see my purpose in life, which is to teach disabled children how to fish."  Makes perfect fucking sense, roll with it brah.  But back to my point...Carrie Underwood, just focus on being cute and performing terrible music.  You couldn't act your way out of a Mary Kate and Ashley film. 

Be Very Careful if Going to Watch the Conan The Barbarian Remake

If you are headed to the theatre this weekend to watch this coathanger abortion of a remake of the classic Arnold-led Conan The Barbarian, you need to be prepared for the possibility that something really horrible is going to befall you.  Theater burning down, mountain dropped on the theater, shitload of poisonous snakes charging into the theater, warriors on horses running in to cut your heads off, I really don't know, sky's the limit.  This diseased rhinoceros pizzle of a remake does not, under any conceivable circumstances, please Crom.  In fact, Crom is so fucking displeased by this shitshow, that I'm pretty sure he is sitting in his mountain kingdom cooking up some really unpleasant outcomes for people who, for reasons beyond me, would want to go and watch this trainwreck.  So if you want to remake the greatest movie of all time and embarrass yourself, fine.  And if you want to pay $11 to view it, fine.  But don't expect Crom to sit there with his dick in his hand, just letting it happen. 

Apparently My Little Brother has Never Seen "Point Break". How Do You Address a Situation Like That?

He is too old and too big to challenge to a fight over it.  I guess I could attack him with a baseball bat or a wrench or a sock filled with marbles or something.  Mostly I'm just sick to my stomach.  Obviously I failed as an older brother and mentor.  How did a kid who grew up in Central Ohio as, and remains so, a huge Ohio State Buckeyes fan...not know that former OSU quarterback Johnny Utah joined the FBI and broke up a surfing brotherhood who also robbed banks?  I mean the fucking guy beat SC in the Rose Bowl for Christ's sake.  Where the fuck you been bro?!?!?!?!  I'd almost rather he was a 27 year old virgin than a 27 year old who has never even heard of Point Break.  Don't say that shit out loud dude, fucking embarrassing.  If anyone talks about it, just memorize a line and pretend you know what you are talking about.  Someone says, "When was the last time you saw Point Break?", just respond, "If you want the ultimate, you've got to be willing to pay the ultimate price".  No one will question you.   

Some Famous Asshole Needs to Start Wearing Skirts

And do it stat.  Been hotter than Texas asphalt in Joo-lie all summer and I've still got a pants crotch stuffed all up in my gear.  Yeah shorts are alright, but skirts are the cat's ass.  I wore a skirt once upon a time in college, for Halloween in Athens, Ohio.  Always a raucous affair.  Per usual I'd drank most of my disposable income by the end of the month, and at this particular time I lived in a house with 4 birds.  That did not last long, as men and women are not meant to live with one another.  At least not until they are ready to be miserable the rest of their days and thus get married.  But given my current lack of funding for a costume and the convenience of living with aforementioned birds, I had them dress me up as a bird myself.  I have to be honest with you, I was pretty fucking hot.  I was repeatedly hit on by this completely pissed Athens townie while at Pawpurr's, while his just slightly less pissed friends unsuccessfully tried to convince him I was a dude.  I had to tell him, "Listen, I'm not some dime store whore you bend over in the toilet.  You want under this skirt, you've got to take me to Applebee's and a movie, Don Juan."  He eventually fell on the floor and broke 2 of his remaining 7 teeth, which allowed me to pursue my buzz and realize the liberating effect of a breeze blowing right up your ass.  Outstanding!  I have no idea when or why men foolishly cast away their loin cloths and their kilts for confining pants.  If it were socially acceptable for men to rock skirts or kilts or what-have-you, I'd very quickly jump this bandwagon.  My uncle Charlie boldly adorned himself in Blackwatch kilt for my own wedding.  Those who weren't familiar with Charlie wondered quietly who the weirdo in a plaid skirt was, but as is Charlie's custom, he didn't give 1/2 a fuck.  I respected the shit out of it.  Unfortunately for me, I was cursed with giving a fuck, and as such I need to call upon Brad Pitt, George Clooney, that asshat Ashton Kutcher, or ideally Justin Timberlake to start sporting one around Beverly Hills.  As soon as that shit hit TMZ and Entertainment Tonight, yours truly would be emboldened to follow suit.  I've been jealous all summer when I see a woman in a summery dress and I know that her crotch is getting all sorts of oxygen that mine direly lacks.  I obviously wouldn't do something suicidal and wear it in the Bible Belt or to a county fair, where I would have to answer the question, "Hey faggot!  Are you some kinda faggot or somethin'?" until I eventually was relieved of my teeth and possibly tethered to the back of a pickup truck for a little scenic tour of the back roads.  If JT reads this blog, and I've no reason to think he doesn't, then get on it fucker.  My ass is sweaty.

Allison Rosati, Sweetheart, Can We Talk about this Haircut?

Allison, you are a successful news anchor over there at NBC 5.  And Chicago isn't exactly a back-water market.  There are plenty of hosts and anchors on national stations via the Windy City to prove that Chicago is a major gateway to the big time.  And who knows, maybe that is in your forecast?  But if you ever want to make it to the big time, we're going to have to have a very heartfelt and honest, friend-to-friend conversation: You need to take a cold, hard look in the mirror, and decide if this haircut is going to get you there.  I know your husband tells you it looks great every time you get home from Super Cuts.  But you know what, he just wants to fuck.  Frankly, you're lucky they don't send you to a Green Bay, Wisconsin affiliate.  Because this hairdo screams Cheesehead from the rafters.  I'll make this easy for you.  You need to head on over to Michael & Michael Salon on Chicago.  Ask for Mitch.  Dude is a fucking Jedi Knight of hair snipping.  Makes my hair look good, and I don't even have any.  Not to mention I have Charlie Brown's skull.  Therefore I'm highly confident he can do something for you more befitting of someone in your station.  He'll at least bring you into the new millennium.  And if someday down the road 1991 comes walking through that door and you're not ready for him, I'll take the blame.  Life is too short and you are too talented to continue to barrel through it with this hair helmet.  I know it is the path of least resistance to think what worked during the best years of your life will continue to work for the rest of your life.  This is not one of those cases.  If you want to leave work on Friday night and jump back into this haircut along with some faded blue mom jeans, white Payless-bought New Balance tennies, and a woodland critters sweater over a turtle neck, that is your time baby!  But when you are on the air, let's go for a little professionalism.  Deal?  

Amy Winehouse is Dead. I Never Saw it Coming.

Nooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I don't want to live anymore!!!!!!!  She was so full of life, how can she be dead?  I just don't get it, she looked fantastic!  Why, why goddamnit, do they always take the good ones?????  It isn't fair, it just isn't fucking fair.  Why couldn't it have been Bono or some other musician who is out being a destructive force in the world and clearly not taking care of themselves?  Instead it is poor Amy Winehouse who selflessly gave of herself and refused anything in return?  She watched her weight religiously and only smoked crack out of sterilized pipes for Christ's sake.  She obviously took great pride in her appearance, and was very thankful for the natural gift of melodious voice she was blessed with.  And God had to go and strike her down tragically in her prime like the vindictive cunt he is.  Why?!?!?!?!  I do not want to live in a world where a truly good and decent human being can't show up late to concerts and when she does show up she is so fucked to the eyeballs on 4 different intoxicants that she can't remember her own lyrics and gets booed off the stage by the thousands who spent their hard-earned money on the tickets and smokes all day and drinks like a fish and snorts tons of coke and smokes copious amounts of crack and shoots smack and disrespects everyone in her life and then cooks up the speed ball of all speed balls and overdoses....where that person is violently ripped away from us at a young age with her whole life of getting fucked up and not caring about anyone but herself in front of her.  I don't want to live in that world for one more fucking minute. 

This bitch won awards for a song where the chorus went: "They wanna make me go to rehab, and I said no, no, no".  And guess what, she didn't go to fucking rehab.  She talked the talk and she walked the walk.  If you don't respect that, you are an asshole.  She didn't pussyfoot around and say she was clean, then relapse, then clean, then court date, then rehab, and all that annoying shit.  She just put the pedal to the metal and drove the bus right off the fucking cliff.  She committed to something and saw it through to the bitter end.  That is grown man shit where I'm from, son.  Hey, smack and crack aren't really my bag (if I saw a speed ball I'd probably drop into the fetal position in the corner and piss my pants whilst sucking my thumb and crying while the bikers fought over who got to beat me up first), but who am I to tell you it can't be your thing?  And if it is your thing, be the best at it.  And if doing it so awesome that you die isn't the best, then what the fuck is?  You think Joe Paterno is going to be called "tragic" or a "failure" when he collapses on the sideline and dies during a game?  Hell no.  So I say rock on Amy, you fucking won. 

Could Someone Please Tell Maria Shriver to Quit being such a Pussy

Your husband fathered a child with an employee behind your back. WAAAAHHHHH! Shut the fuck up already. Who did you think you married, A.C. Green? You married Arnold Fucking Schwarzenegger. Do you think he made himself look like this so he could be a one-snatch kind of guy? You knew what you were getting into; you're a Kennedy for Christ's sake. The Kennedy's invented spousal infidelity. Your uncles are like the Michelangelo and DaVinci of cheating on women. Now granted, your uncles were not plowing appalingly ugly common field hands like your Austrian beaux, but they were widely dispersing their seed none-the-less. So save all of us the feigned shock and horror and move on with your $500,000,000 and start getting nailed by your 19 year old Brazilian pool boy such as your birthright entitles you. I guess the daytime TV crowd will probably feel sorry for you, but that is only because Oprah tells them to. No one else gives a shit. Would you ask the sun not to shine Maria? Would you ask the bee not to sting? Of course you wouldn't. So why would you ask Arnold to quit chasing tail?

The Scout Chronicles: I Think Someone is Trying to Pull an "Inception" on my Ass

Although I can't be 100% sure, I think I'm being Inceptioned. And if the movie taught me anything, it's that you don't even know you are being Inceptioned. What I do know is that if I wake up at any moment and see Leonardo DiCaprio, I will bite that handsome son-of-a-bitch into next fucking week. The Scoutmeister is not going to be played for a fool. I haven't actually seen DiCaprio, but this is how I think it went down: I went to Higgins Animal Clinic, which is a pretty normal occurrence for me. My homegirl Dr. Barcyzk gave me a shot--and this is where I think it all went wrong. I am only speculating, but I think when I wasn't looking DiCaprio actually snuck into the room and administered the shot. Now I don't know what is real or what has been dreamscaped just to fuck with Scout. I've checked my treat cabinet about 100 times, and it appears that no one has stolen my sweet potato treats. That was my original suspicion. But now I'm starting to think that something much more sinister is at foot. While I was knocked out on goofballs administered during that shot, presumably, the perpetrators brought Ellen Page into my condo to do some of that mental architectural rebuilding of my surroundings. Speaking of Ellen Page, is she hot or not? Sometimes I want to hump the ever living shit out of her leg. Other times I'm like, "eh, I'd let her pet me". What the fuck is the deal with her? Anyway, she has been slowly dreamscaping my condo and now I don't know which way is up and which way is goodamned loose. Everything is helter-skelter and the Scoutmesiter is fit to be tied.

-I come home one day and the desk in the living room is gone. Apparently dreamscaped into the bedroom. "Well Scout, the desk is still in the house, what is the big deal?" you say. Let me tell you what the big deal is asshole--I used to lay under the desk in the living room and monitor Seward Park out the window as my duties of "Guardian Angel" dictate. Now I have to worry about shit falling on me from above. Kind of stressful, so cut me some fucking slack here.

-Way bigger problem: My goddamned day bed is gone. I used to spend half my day on this thing. Worse yet, it didn't get moved somewhere else. Fucker is gonezo, outright. Up and vanished like a fart in the wind. And in its stead is some weird thing I cannot identify. It is sort of like a bed, only smaller and enclosed on all sides. I mean there are spaces between all the slats so I can look in, but I lack the height or jumping ability to actually get over the railing and onto the mattress to see what it is all about. My only guess is that it is a bed designed for tiny humans, and it would seem the intention is that they not be allowed to escape. Doesn't look too fucking comfortable if you ask me.

-My favorite chair in the living room, also totally gone. I've looked for it everywhere; in the trash cans, in the bathtub, in the sink, under the sofa.....nowheres to be found. I spent another quarter of my day on that chair. And I also liked to look at myself in the mirror behind, which has moved to a new location to make room for....

-A useless set of fucking drawers now sits against the wall. The drawers are chocked full of tiny assed clothes. Ummmm, clothes don't fit mom and dad, and Scout doesn't wear clothes. Seems like a pretty sensible item they had Ellen dreamscape into my condo. Bravo assholes. The drawers are also full of these water bottle thingys, that according to the photos on the package, you drink milk from. Another huge waste of resources. Just wait until your mom and dad are finished with their cereal and lick the milk out of the bottom of the bowl. Works just fine for me, but if you want your fancy water bottles then go for it.

So the Scoutmeister has reacted to this Inception'ing the only way the Scoutmeister can: I started chewing the fuck out of things. Mostly I've focused on all these new books that have suddenly appeared as well. They have a central theme; all feature a cover picture of various minuscule humanoids, all of whom are bald and shirtless. Some are in pink underwear, others blue. Don't ask me, I just tell it like I see it.

One positive is that Ellen Page dreamscaped me a dog bed from Orvis. This thing is the cat's ass. The bed is memory foam. I'm pretty sure some cedar or poly fill would have sufficed, but if it's no sweat off Ellen's dream architecture nuts to create me a yuppie dog bed at 4 times the cost, I'm certainly not complaining.

I'm going to ride this storm out and see what happens. You never know, maybe I wake up and everything is back to normal soon. However, and I can't be any clearer about this, if shit doesn't quit getting weird-and fast-I reserve the right to bite every mutherfucker involved in this Inception, from DiCaprio right on down. Riddle me this Ellen page: If you are in a dream within a dream, and I take a dump right in the middle of the floor of that dream, can you dreamscape that off the floor?

P.S.--Don't tell mom but her belly has gotten HUGE the past few months.....what the fuck is up with that?

Can Charlie Sheen get any Awesomer???

If you are anywhere....a party, a bar, at work, at the ball game, at church, at a bar mitzvah, at your grandma's house for Easter dinner, anywhere....and someone tells you that "Charlie Sheen is out of control and needs help"....don't think about it for one second. Respond immediately by kicking that person directly in their dick and then drive a stake right into the middle of their heart. Because obviously they're dead and you need to take steps to make sure they aren't also a vampire. King Kong ain't got shit on Charlie Sheen! Chuck is up to his tits in liquor, coke, pills, hookers, yachts and porn stars. What the fuck does he need help with? His fucking taxes? The only help he needs is maybe an extra dick or two to occupy all this trim he rolls with. The news media is about to implode with sanctimonious bullshit over this non-issue. Who cares? Charlie looks pretty goddamned happy to me, not sure some boring assed rehab and a steady relationship with a "nice" girl is really what he's looking for. Charlie likes to drink vodka. Charlie likes to eat pills. Charlie likes to bang pros. Charlie likes to trash hotel rooms. And Charlie likes to get an up-close smell of Bolivian Marching Dust. If you don't like it, that is your problem--not Charlie's. You are up at 4:30 in the morning, at your desk high-stress slaving at 6:00, and probably don't get home until 7:00 p.m. Charlie is at an unknown location in the Caribbean on a rented yacht. He's got 1/2 a hollowed-out Bic pen in one hand, a glass of Grey Goose in the other, and Vivid Video's tart du jour bouncing up and down naked on his rod. So please explain to me just how in the fuck you are winning in this particular game? You ever see that Michael Jordan poster where he is about to dunk the shit out of the ball, right over top of a white-as-hell Jack Sikma of the Milwaukee Bucks who has a "Oh jeez, black man jump high" look on his Chevy Chase? That is what Charlie is doing to the world right now. He doesn't give one fuck what you or anyone else thinks about it. At one point during his tirade on a radio call-in show, he referred to Thomas Jefferson as a "Pussy". Why? I haven't a fucking clue, but he did it. The current score is Charlie Sheen 123, Us 0. Go Charlie, GO!!! If I tried to hang out with Sheen at this point, my life span would be measured in hours rather than years or days.

Could Everyone Quit Fucking "Checking In" Already

The Internet giveth, and the Internet taketh away. We as humans cannot blame the Creator for the sharks or the influenza or the cockroaches or The View or any of the Kardashians. We can only praise him for the good things in the world. He is not to be held responsible for anything negative which exists in the universe he/she/it(we can't rule out that a creator who created RuPaul is a Boston-Batwanger itself) created. In much the same way we cannot hold Al Gore responsible for any negative spectres which have materialized in the Internet world he created. Al Gore is to be praised only for YouTube groin injury videos, pornography, anonymous character attacks and The Star Wars Kid. Al Gore is not responsible for Perez Hilton, Trojan Horse viruses, Graigslist rapes, and he sure as goddamned shit isn't responsible for this insidious "Checking In" suckfest on Facebook. Mark Zuckerberg is responsible for that atrocity, and may he be damned all the way to hell and back for it. No one cares what new fair-trade coffee shop/Hello Kitty vintage schwag store in Brooklyn you and your iPad-toting hipster douchebag friends just walked into. No one is impressed that you checked into the just opened Rockit Ranch bar du jour in Chicago, when in reality you are standing outside freezing your dick off with your brahs behind a velvet rope with visions of cherry bombs dancing in your head. Rather than sit here and bitch while offering no resolutions per usual, here are some ideas I have for check in destinations that someone might actually care about:
-John Doe checking in @ some pussy
-Mike Hunt checking in @ blacked out drunk
-Hung Low checking in @ my coke dealer's car
-Jane Hoe checking in @ office bathroom, 3rd stall, masturbating vigorously
-Seymour Butts checking in @ Ray's Big 'Ol Titties and Chicken Wing Shack
-Joe Blow checking in @ Lindsay Lohan's box
-Anthony Cooker checking in @ alley behind liquor store, stabbing vagrant to death to see if they bleed real blood
-Ima Tweeker checking in @ Red Roof Inn, shooting meth under toenails
-Michael Jackson checking in @ little boy's booty
-Paul Cook checking in @ strangling hooker
-Missy Urcock checking in @ methadone clinic
-Ron Awesomeheir checking in @ fucking your sister. no seriously, fucking your sister, hard
-Oprah Winfrey checking in @ in the closet
-Sandra Lovesdik checking in @ welfare office
These are some places we might actually want to show up and watch what you are doing. But so long as you are "checking in @ Golden Gate Bridge", go ahead and disable this feature in Facebook. Unless of course you are jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. Then by all means, let us know.

Studio 54 should have been rated NC/17

Given that I'm slowing dying faster than a Medieval peasant after sticking his hand in a rat den, I had the opportunity to re-watch Studio 54 this morning. It was the only alternative to morning talk show drivel, not to mention it features Selma Hayek's jugs. It is one of those movies, much like Robin Hood Prince of Thieves, where upon seeing it for the first time when it came out, I thought it was a brilliant piece of cinema. Then when I see it 10 years later I realize it was a steaming pile of shit with asymmetrical corn in it. Ryan Phillipe is lucky he's hot. If he looked like Steve Buschemi his next job offer after this movie would have been as spokesman for an auto glass factory. That being said, my real point is that this movie was only rated R. I feel this really slipped under the movie ratings radar. At minimum it should have been NC/17, if not Rated X. And here's why:

There is a scene approximately 2/3 of the way through the film where Steve Rubell, the character played by Mike Myers, coerces Greg Randazzo, played by Breckin Meyer, into his bed chamber under the guise of being too drug and alcohol addled to get there himself. What transpired thereafter has left me emotionally shaken for the rest of my life. As Randazzo tries to determine what ulterior motives Rubell has for bringing him into his lair, Rubell cuts right to the chase. I cannot do this scene justice in written word, but I will die trying. Rubell looks at Randazzo and says, after sleazily stuttering through several attempts at starting his oratory, "...I wanna suck your cock". Once again, this format fails to capture the utter horror of not only the look on his face, but the annunciation of the word "cock". It was similar to, yet worse than, "The Crying Game". As my friend Aaron from college very astutely opined, "It was the 'Rosemary's Baby' of our generation". Thankfully the writers chose to have Randazzo's character retreat in fear so as to save us the misery of watching him agonize through a homosexual blowjob which was forced upon him. Had they not, well, the movie "Road Trip" never happens as Breckin Meyer would have been the modern era's version of Ned Beatty. It was such a virtuoso performance by Myers that the debate amongst my friends still rages: Did Myers deserve an Oscar for so believably delivering this most horrendous of lines? Or should he have been forced, in his real life, to register as a sex offender and go door-to-door warning his would-be neighbors? Given that I can only surmise what Myers had to do in real-life to prepare for this role, I'm leaning towards the latter. I contracted hepatitis from merely watching that scene. No amount of Hayek's tits splattered across the screen like a slasher film could ever erase that scene from our collective consciousness.

George Clooney Fucked Your Sister While You Read this Headline

He banged her and told her to get the fuck out of his hotel room before you even read the word "Headline". Deal with it. If you're extra-lucky, George Clooney might bang you some day. He doesn't want to hear how she is an aspiring actress, he doesn't want to know about how she's been sliding out of her seat over him ever since E.R., and he sure as fucking shit isn't going to become her Facebook friend. All he wants to do is hit it, forget it, and go on with his sexy-assed day. If your sister is smart, she'll pick up her clothes (and don't even bother searching for the undies, Clooney melted those right off your ass with his steely gaze), get the fuck out of Clooney's life, and not shower for 2 weeks so that she can show-off her Clooney stink for a while.

We watched The American recently, and this under-handed son-of-a-bitch is so goddamned handsome it just ain't fair. If I walked in on my wife banging George Clooney, I don't know what I would do. Probably just give respect where respect is due, and leave them to it. Then go mow my lawn, so that it looks nice when George leaves.

Jay Cutler is a Fucking Warrior

He sat out the second half of the Bears NFC Championship game with a sprained MCL. What a modern day Hector of Troy. It is a little known fact, but Hannibal of Carthage actually sat out the Battle of Zama with elbow tendinitis. Now I know the Rose Bowl and the NFC Championship aren't completely equal, but Terrele Pryor of Ohio State played the 2010 Rose Bowl with a torn knee ligament. And he didn't get injured during the game, rather he came into the game with the injury. He won the game and was the MVP, and he is a running quarterback. I guess he just really wanted to play and win. I personally sprained my MCL this past Thursday during a ski trip to Utah. It was the first day of the trip and I really wanted to ski; I was already all the way out there and all. So I skied the next 3 days on the sprained knee. It kind of hurt, both when I skied and still a little when I walk. I didn't ski my all-time best, but I did okay. It still hurts some, but I'm glad I skied. Who knows, I may never make it back to Snowbird. I'm sure Jay Cutler will be back to plenty of NFC Title games, so no biggie. Just ask Dan Marino.

There is Only One Way to Teach People to Respect the Value of Human Life: Kill Some Mutherfuckers

Two weeks ago the corner where I get dropped off by the bus each day after work was shut down for the entire night by Chicago Police, Fire Department, Bomb Squad, Traffic Wardens, Garbage Men, Vagrants, you name it and they were on the scene for over 5 hours. Why you ask? Because someone left a suspicious suitcase in front of the Planned Parenthood (aka Oopsie Fixing Clinic) at the corner of LaSalle and Division on Chicago's near north side. Authorities are speculating it was done by a fundamentalist religious group (i.e. pro-life cult) to send a "message" to the facility which houses an abortion clinic. I see these pro life wastes of space most Saturdays if I happen by the PP, singing songs of stupidity and generally haranguing the staff. And you know what, I get it. I think there is only one effective way to teach people to respect life in all its cycles, whether post-uterus human or zygote. And that way is to kill the fuck out of them. What better way to force people to cherish human life than to indiscriminately blow them to hell? That will teach rape victims, impoverished young women, hungover and semen-stained sorority girls, Lindsay Lohan/Paris Hilton, and anyone else who is choosing to not burden society with a life they can't support, to fucking think again. Same goes for those that work at these types of operations. You want to be able to go to work each day and not worry about being blown up or snipered by a person who is 2 I.Q. points north of an official "State Certified Retarded" stamp on their resume? Well you'd better just change careers and work out of your house from now on asshole. If you want to continue to do Satan's work by assisting a 16 year old black girl who tried alcohol for the first time and made a bad decision to have a second chance to finish school, get a job, find someone she loves and start a family she can support on her terms, that's fine. But you need to be prepared for some blond-haired, pink-eyed albino from deep in the bowels of Salt Lake City to murder the ever-living shit out of you. That's the trade off, bandejo.

Same goes for convicted murderers. How we gonna teach puppies not to bite? Bite them. How you gonna teach the kids not to murder people? Murder people, that's how. Oh, you are mentally retarded and don't understand the fundamental differences between right/wrong, alive/dead? BooFuckingHoo. I guess you shouldn't have been born then, and especially not in Texas.

I'm with the fruit-loops on this one. Sometimes you have to murder a few humans to make an omelet. And I think I'll start getting off the bus one stop early and walking it on in.

I've Heard there are People who don't Like "The Town"

Those people should really be spending their time trying to erase the encyclopedia of kiddie porn they have stored on their hard drive (and please remember to empty the recycle bin) before the Feds arrive with a warrant. Unless you are Pete Townsend and are just doing research to try and find a way to stop child pornography, they'll put your ass in federal pound-me-in-the-ass prison for that shit. Trying to convince people to be joyless losers who do nothing but bitch like 14 year old girls such as yourself, and not appreciate the wicked awesomeness of this movie is a sad waste of time. This movie is ball-rattlingly good, and this is why:

-Afflek is back. Believe it.
-Jeremy Renner is proving himself a very convincing crazy and bad mutherfucker.
-Blake Lively is hot. Even as a drug-addled whore with a Charlestown accent.
-Gratuitous use of a David Ortiz RBI highlight
-Fenway Park
-Over-the-top Bahston accents
-Lack of Jack Nicholson running around playing a bad parody of himself and ruining an otherwise brilliant movie
-Car chases up your ass
-Loud assed fucking machine guns
-Did I mention Blake Lively?

So if someone tells you this movie sucks, just say, "Hey, I understand your dad didn't take it well when you told him you were gay. But that has nothing to do with Ben Afflek or The Town. He'll come around eventually."

EMERGENCY BROADCAST: Katy Perry Shows Some Cleavage on Seasame Street....Pick up the Red Phone and Call Fucking Batman!

That is the last straw, I'm packing up the wife and kids and moving to fucking Iran. I will not sit idly by and tolerate my children or anyone else's children being exposed to evil, dirty, vulgar, partially-exposed breasts. If you expose a child to this sort of pornography rest assured they will be face-down on a urine-soaked sofa in the basement of an abandoned home with a heroin needle dangling from their arm, the only sign of life being the festering herpes sores in their nether regions, by the time they are 19. Sesame Street, along with their harlot Ms. Perry, have brought great shame and bad tidings to our nation this day. I just don't know how you can ask children, resilient though they may be, to recover from briefly viewing the upper 35% of a set of breasts? For the love of God, someone please find us an army of psychologists to try and work the children through this heinous event.

I do have one small thing I'd like to point out to all the mentally-challenged people who are up in arms about this: ALL KIDS SUCK ON TITS. How do you think you were nourished the first 1-9 months of your life you sanctimonious cunt? Was it "Immaculate Feeding"? One of the most indelible images burned into the brains of babies is staring for large periods of time, multiple times per day, at a set of tits. Seeing a pair now is not going to cause them to torch their daycare to the ground or collapse into the fetal position quaking with fear. I'm sure they are probably wondering "Where are the nipples?", but I think they're going to get through this just fine. Instead of worrying about Sesame Street having the audacity to not hide nature from nature's children, instead get your fucking kid out from in front of the TV and have them run around or read a book. And then fuck off, asshole.

*In this picture, doesn't it look like Elmo is saying "Daaammnnn! Look at them titties!"

I Dominated my Fantasy Draft

Here's a recap of what I picked (you are all straight fucked):

Black Wizard
Sword of Saranon
Power Crystals
Forest Elves
Sea of Woe
Hills of Theodora
7 Trolls
Intimidating Shout
Samnai the Swordsman

As you can see this fantasy season is mine. First game of the year and you've got Peyton Manning? Yawn. I have Black Wizard in that game, and he has death-touch ability. Lets see how many passes Peyton completes after Black Wizard walks up and touches him on the neck and he crumples into a little dead ball on the field. Who gives a shit that you have the Jets defense. Sword of Saranon penetrates that like black NFL players penetrate Kim Kardashian. Think you're awesome because you drafted Chris Johnson? Lets see how many yards he runs for with a pack of Forest Elves chasing his ass. Those fuckers can run a 3.1 40yd. Just trust me, I'm unbeatable. Week 7 versus the Saints and you've got Drew Brees......Lets see him try and throw passes over the Hills of Theodora. Week 4 against Tom Brady you say? I'm not sure how his offense is going to hear him calling audibles when I'm hitting Intimidating Shout and their ears are bleeding. I don't even care if Samnai the Swordsman tears his ACL because I've also got Power Crystals and they can heal torn ACLs in like 30 seconds.

You guys may as well go do something gay like join a flag football league or play outside with your kids this fall, because obviously fake life fantasy world league is over before it even begins.