Brett Favre Douche-O-Meter

Has broken foot/ankle. Wants to play this week, not to help team, but rather to continue consecutive games started streak that only he and John Madden care about. Insistence on playing will have direct negative effect on team. Recent quote: "I've played through injuries that most people wouldn't even attempt."

THREAT LEVEL: HIGH

Expect "Gunslinging", Brett Favre passes completed to people NOT wearing Vikings jerseys, limping off field as though amongst wounded at Verdun, pained "warrior" faces on sideline sans helmet, general assclown behavior.

Four Loko can go and Four Fuck Itself

Seriously, look at the goddamned advertisement. You're going to drink this shit? Well then, you deserve everything you get, from a pants full of shit all the way up to and including a lack of heartbeat. Everyone is fucking everyone else right up the ass to try and be the most EXTREME!!! these days. You know what is most EXTREME!!! ? Drinking this monkey jism until you fucking quit breathing. So go for it University of State School '13, Valhalla beckons. Odin awaits you in Asgard with an eternity's supply of Mountain Dew, Four Loko, jet-fuelled dirt bikes and heavy metal snowboarding halfpipes with some other extreme mutherfuckers. You can all catch major air while chugging non-coffee caffeine right into oblivion.

I have never actually tried Four Loko, and you can bet your bottom fucking dollar that I never will. However I know this much for absolute certain: It tastes like your dog's asshole. Why would you keep drinking it? Several years ago I was going to a college campus with 3 other guys to visit one of their brothers who was still in school. Our friend Brad brought this devil's brew of vodka mixed with a greenish-hued energy drink concentrate he bought from a Korean market. I can't read Korean, but I'm pretty sure it was called "ThunderFuck". I choked down one drink on the ride. I was both crunk and felt like I'd smoked a jumbo with Pooky from New Jack City. It tasted like failure and Brad was getting alarmingly drunk and loud. I decided I'd have no more. When we arrived at the college, Brad was quickly vomiting blood behind the residence hall. I knew then I wasn't drinking that bullshit again. So if you drink a can of Four Loko once I can forgive you. But if you wake up with pissed pants and your roommate is getting his stomach pumped and you drink it again, well that's called "Thinning of the herd". If it isn't the Four Loko in 2010 A.D. taking you down, it would have been the saber toothed tiger you were throwing rocks at in 20,010 B.C. Carpe diem, jackoff.

I'd love to pass judgment and say that all you need is a 6-pack of heavy beer and a couple of hits off the bowl, and you'll be pleasantly wasted yourself and can piss on the faces of the passed-out dudes with labored breathing who chugged Four Loko three hours earlier, at your leisure. However if I am being honest with myself I know that if Four Loko existed in 1997 I would have been the first asshole in the dorm down on one knee ripping a beer-bong full of this nonsense.

The Corner Bakery is Bullshit

I've eaten better out of dumpsters behind veterinary clinics. This is processed, sodium-laden food in all its glory. If you are going for this shit, you may as well go to fucking McDonald's. At least it tastes good.

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.

Now I Know how Women Feel

I was recently jogging near the lakefront in Chicago. I took a path through some woods where there is a small nature preserve, near Recreation Drive. As I ran down this narrow path I was visually assaulted in a most violent manner by a raging homosexual man with a pencil-thin moustache whose hands undoubtedly reeked of Boys Age 7-10 cotton briefs. His appearance screamed "Sexual Deviant" and I'm quite sure he thinks about dicks 98% of his life. He gave me an "elevator eyes" size-up and a look that said "I can't get off anymore without knife play and the sounds of children screaming". It were as though I was the only wounded springbok left on a dried out South African plain, and this skeezy lion had missed his last 50 meals. I felt dirty, used and objectified. After that fuck-me eyes horror show I wanted to run a wind-sprint and dive head first into Lake Michigan where I would be dashed by waves against the concrete wall until I felt clean again. While I raced away from this Jeffrey Dahmer it suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks: This must be how women feel when men leer suggestively at them. And I thought, that is fucking awesome! To have that much impact on someone's psyche, merely by looking at them as though they were a side of perfectly marbled grass-fed beef cooked to medium-rare perfection over a spit, well that is pretty neat.

Even though I'm pretty sure that guy has already been murdered during an after-sex knife fight over the last line of crystal meth, he's gonna haunt me. I may never run through that wooded area again.

Both Candidates for Illinois Senate Have Such Great Ideas on how to Fix Illinois, that I Have No Idea Who to Vote For

I've been watching television ads lately and I have to say picking a candidate in this race is going to be tough. They both present such phenomenal ideas on how they will solve Illinois's problems.

Alexi Giannoulias has, in my humble opinion, a great strategy for cleaning up corruption in Illinois, getting out of debt and becoming profitable again, and bringing Illinois back to respectability: Mark Kirk Fucking Sucks. There it is folks, all problems solved. Mark Kirk is a complete and utter turd, he spends like a drunken sailor at a Thai brothel, and he will without a doubt cram a giant black rubber cock into the unsuspecting asses of average Illinois citizens if you give him opportunity.

Mark Kirk has a different, but still compelling, message stating his plans to medicate and ultimately fix our great state: Alexi Giannoulias is a Fucking Asshole. I was barking up all the wrong trees such as fiscal responsibility, ending graft, increasing manufacturing, etc. I didn't realize that all we might need is to point out what a fucking scumbag Alexi Giannoulias is. Kirk's ads are quite clear. If we vote Alexi into office he is going to steal all your money in Ponzi schemes, let your chickens out of the barn, and steal off into the night with your daughters where he plans to annihilate their cherries in a most aggressive and unloving manner, only to return them the next day with his demon seed growing in their bellies.

I've stewed over this for weeks. Alexi Giannoulias is an asshole versus Mark Kirk sucks. Each plan has its merits and could ultimately save Illinois from collapse. These guys are both running a great campaign. Keep it simple and stick to the main points. In the end it will probably come down to which commercial I watch before leaving for the voting polls.

The Fat, Pan-Handling Asshole is Back on my Corner Again

This fat bastard has been on the corner of Adams and LaSalle, in front of the Brooks Brothers in the Rookery building, for yonks. His manual of operation, during the years I've had the honor to pass by him and not contribute dick to his GDP, is always being on his knees (on concrete), holding out a hat and with a fake tear or two streaming down his face. I am not a heartless person who has no compassion for poor and starving people. There are starving people all over the world that I feel quite terrible for. However, all of these starving people have a couple of things in common:

1) They are not wearing a brand new Allen Iverson3 football jersey
2) They are not 125lbs overweight

I am not going to delve into the subject of why you would ever buy the jersey of a player in a sport they don't play. This is a black cultural thing that I am not meant to understand. Sort of like how spectators at a golf tournament who are there to watch and not play golf, wear their fucking golf spikes, is a white cultural thing that black people are not meant to understand. But I digress. You've got to sell it to me buddy. Don't cry to me about how you are starving and need some food when you're sitting flush with AI3 gear and have eaten yourself into type 2 diabetes.

The Ryder Cup is Over, Now What the Fuck do I do?

Probably jump off a bridge or try and shoot my weight in black tar heroin. The Ryder Cup is over, America lost again, and now all I have is NFL football, college football, MLB playoffs, English Premier League soccer and the basketball season about to start. Who fucking cares? Nothing else can stiffen a dick like America's best privileged arrogant country club assholes versus Europe's best privileged arrogant country club assholes in a winner takes nothing contest of Lets Go Hit a Stationary Ball and Walk Slowly Behind It. The pageantry, the mystique, the raw athleticism, the complete and utter lack of comprehension of the theory of "team". If you give even one flying fuck about the Ryder Cup and root vehemently for the United States to win, then you probably also rooted for Judge Smails and Dr. Beeper to beat Danny Noonan and Ty Webb. So take your USA Ryder Cup hat, your horizontal striped polo shirt with the fill-in-the-blank dickhole golf tournament emblem on the chest, your golf tournament watching spikes, and go fuck yourself.

You've Got to be Off Your Fucking Tits to Eat Food from the Rotisserie Racks at 7-Eleven

I am not tangling with any person that eats food from 7-Eleven warming and/or rotisserie racks, because clearly they don't give a fuck. I'd as soon approach the rotting carcass of a week-old wildebeest in the Serengeti that was beset by jackals as I would a "hot dog" spinning menacingly in the cooking rack at 7-Eleven. I have read declassified Pentagon papers which explained that the pilots of the Enola Gay were not given cyanide tablets in the event they were captured, as previously thought. They were given hot dogs and an order of mozzarella sticks from 7-Eleven.

Not even in my drunkest, darkest, most stoned hour in college did I ever consider consuming that toxic manna from hell. The children seen scavenging food from Mumbai gutters are ingesting better calories than the American fatties crushing chili dogs from 7-Eleven. The usual consumer of this fetid filth are people in the 75+ pounds overweight demographic with acne and sweat pants, trying to score a quick hot dog, pizza slice and beef burrito snack before their all-night chat room marathon. As their "Who Farted" t-shirts would indicate, these are typically harmless individuals no more to be feared than the common 3-toed sloth. This past Friday afternoon I encountered something completely different and I fear altogether sinister. There was a man near the age of 30, dressed well according to modern fashion tastes, clean-cut, of Arab or possibly Persian descent. He strode confidently into 7-Eleven and straight up to the group of Indian proprietors who were at that time arguing in Hindi over which products in the store they were going to incorrectly label with high prices until a customer noticed and complained and they pretended it was a simple mistake. He interrupted them and without hesitation ordered two slices of peperoni pizza which were warming in squalor inside a most foul transparent oven of some sort. This individual is capable of anything. Murder, rape, sodomy, theft, assault, buggery, the sky is the limit. A person such as this has nothing to lose and is not concerned with their own welfare. Tread cautiously.

Are Amish People and Hasidic Jews Interchangeable?

Its a toss-up. Neither much cares for modernity. Both eschew razors. Each group's fashion sense is "17th Century Farmer Chic". Both cultures are governed by strict interpretations of fictional books written thousands of years ago by people who thought you could sail off the edge of the earth straight into space. I'm going to say yes, the Amish are interchangeable with Hasidic Jews. If a Hasidic Jew on your team blows out his ACL, you can sub in an Amish guy and no one will notice.