The world (or maybe just my collection of Facebook friends) was stunned and saddened last night by the fiery, car-crash demise of actor Paul Walker, famous (pretty much solely – let’s face it) for riding shotgun in the series of Vin Diesel Fast and the Furious films. Not surprisingly, this instantly vaulted him to the top of the hastily re-polled survey, “The Most Ironic Deaths in the History of Everything.” Congratulations, Paul Walker!
Previous title holders include:
Redd Foxx, who suffered a fatal heart attack on the set of his early ’90s sitcom The Royal Family. Foxx famously would imitate a heart attack in his role as Fred Sanford on Sanford and Son, so the cast and crew present at his demise thought this was a gag. Continue reading
I’m just a pimp on the Goodyear Blimp,
And each of my whores adores me.
Airborne ecstasy, and the healthcare is free,
And their door in the floor is above me.
I burst up like a mole if a dude gets too rude,
Levy out a toll, then lighten the mood.
“Bring out the whiskey!” I shout to the intern,
The whore leans to kiss me and continues to earn. Continue reading
He thinks he's funny WHILE being a good driver
I’ve found there are two constants in the realm of human self assessment. 1) Everyone thinks they have a sense of humor, which is insane because there are so many dour, humorless clods out there on which the funny has no effect. And 2) everyone thinks they are a good driver. EVERYONE. Blame for all driving mishaps can be attributed to other drivers, road conditions, pedestrians, the car, the seatbelt, the radio, passengers, the armrest, anything. It’s never your fault behind the wheel. You’re blameless. You’re a great driver. So what’s the answer? Well, I’m here to tell you – you can blame me. I’m sort of a lousy driver.
Not my finest hour
Now, I’m not a particularly dangerous driver, don’t get me wrong. I’ve rarely hit anyone or anything. Sure, everyone backs into other cars and utility poles now and then (don’t they??), but beyond that I can count my major and minor accidents on one hand…yeah, just one. But, more and more evidence has come to light which leads me to the undoubtedly accurate conclusion that I can’t drive worth a good goddamn. Continue reading
“Let me tell you, Alex Rodriguez needs to make a sincere apo-“
“I’m trying to go with that, ‘Do I think, do I not think’ and –“
“ – since the beginning of the season that UConn is the most tal-“
“Save big money at Menard’s –“
“I think Illinois could end up as high as a three or even a two seed come Selection Sun-“
6:47. Shit. I’ve got to be at work by 8. Dammit. It’s an hour and a half from stepping out of bed to punching in. I know that. It’s always the same, depending on the train, but it’s always pretty much the same. Okay, okay, yesterday I did the whole thing in an hour twelve, but I got lucky with the train. Can’t rely on that.
Wow, check out the lint in here? How does that happen? Whether I wear a shirt to bed or not, lint! Ridiculous! And I wasn’t wearing a shirt that color. How is that the color of the lint in there? I wonder if I shaved the hair around my belly button if I’d get less lint. But then maybe I’d get more, as the prickly regrowing hairs might…wow, I can’t get a temperature worth a damn happening here. Doesn’t matter, gotta keep going, gotta get there by 8. Continue reading
Probably the best thing about living in Chicago I’ve got to say is not having a car. In Scranton, there was no having a job or going out or being seen as a respectable member of society if I didn’t have a car. It was just a given, it was a necessity. But here, a car? What the hell would I do with a car?
Besides having the highest gas prices in the country (allegedly), there is also nowhere to park. Were I to drive to work, between garages and filling up I’d be blowing nearly the whole paycheck on the lousy car. The girlfriend drives to the suburbs every day for work and even though her car gets roughly a thousand miles to the gallon (I have no idea) she’s still filling up twice a week or more. So no car is awesome. Continue reading