Does Bobby Jindal think we're all eight-year-olds?
He really sounds like he's telling us a story.
I want to see the pictures.

They don't call me Mr. Porn for nothing. And I hope to the Jedeo-Christian God, whom I ask to give me a good tax refund (render unto Eric that which the government claims to deserve because it has their heads on it but Jedeo-Christ on a fucking cracker if I use cash), that they don't call me Mr. Porn at all ( Read more... )

Sonnet #1, To Shawn ( Read more... )

I mean, really.

that you read this entry. Which is not true of anything else I've ever written.

If any of you read the Lansing Stale Urinal (as my dad used to call it) or any other paper featuring the major syndicated columns, you may or may not have had the privilege of reading the Monday edition of "Dear Abby," in which a husband questions how to confront his ( Read more... )

I rarely use this thing like a journal, which is funny, because it's a journal ( Read more... )

Drunkard: おお！すごい！外人様いるの～！[Oh! Holy shit. Mister-fucking-foreigner is here ( Read more... )

Phil: "Yeah, that guy's from Texas, isn't he ( Read more... )

Please, don't ask me the process that brought this to my attention. I'm sure I'd been searching for something benevolent enough... And in fact, what I have to say is rather unprovocative anyhow ( Read more... )

Sometimes I wish I knew people that wanted to come over to listen to rock and roll, drink beer, and subsequently fist pump at the feel of it all ( Read more... )