Two workout equipment “innovations” are ready for their day in the sun, but which is more ready? The contenders are the strangely erotic iJoy and the Tony Little inspired abortion, The Gazelle. Which one do you think most deserves an all expense paid trip to the sun courtesy of Contemptster.com?

Watch the videos and cast your vote below. Don’t forget to check back to see the results. Thanks for voting!

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Hey, what’ll it be? Oh, I’m sorry, dude, I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to the pair of tits standing behind you. I know you were ahead of her, but you’ll just have to wait until I’m done flirting while making her Cosmo.

I see you desperately waving your $20 bill, but I’m still not motivated to get you a Bud Light. I know you could literally reach over the bar and get it yourself, but I simply can’t allow that. You will wait ‘til I’m good and ready because in this particular situation I am God and you are a lowly peasant praying for me to shine some good fortune onto your otherwise bleak existence.

Once I do finally decide to serve you, don’t even think about leaving a shitty tip. That is, if you don’t want your next beer to be coming from my special “Asshole Reserve” collection of bottles I stuck in my butt crack prior to the start of my shift.

Likes: Cleavage, Ladies Night, getting everyone liquored up but you
Dislikes: Efficiency, your happiness
Favorite quotes: “Get this guy outta here.” “You’re cut off, slick.” “What’s a buy-back?”

For more obnoxious jerks who like to ruin your night, click here.

While you’re there, check out Party Buzzkill.

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If you hate local news reporters like me you’ll enjoy this:

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Last Saturday, I went to see a matinee of Cloverfield. I walked into the theater just as the previews were winding down and found a seat using my foolproof system for maximizing comfort and avoiding Movie Theater Dicks (see terrible diagram on the left): sit on the aisle, no one in front of me, no one behind me. This provides a buffer from those who like to kick your seat, slam into your knees, rustle with plastic bags, and talk to their friends. I also timed it so I would be one of the last people to enter the theater. But, like all good plans, it works great on paper and not so great in real life where assholes abound.

Two minutes into the movie and one last man stumbles into the theater. He’s carrying two large plastic shopping bags and talking to himself. Fuck. “Please sit down, sir. No need to make your way towards the back of the theater” I say to myself hoping to connect with this man via ESP. As he slowly ascends the stairs he gets closer and closer and I’m beginning to accept my destiny: he will sit behind me.

As I try to concentrate on the beginning of the movie, he kicks my seat several times while planting himself down in the chair behind me. For the next five minutes he plays with his plastic bags, taking out stuff, shoving them under his seat, repositioning them, and repositioning them again. At the ten minute mark he says, to no one in particular, “this is some boring shit!” which, though true, was the first of many loudly pronounced opinions about the movie. A seat kick here, a drunken mumble there, and some random remarks about the monster killing Republicans sprinkled in, the movie finally ended. Cloverfield’s 80 minute running was a godsend.

So I’ve given up. Like fighting a giant monster with no discernable weakness, planning is fruitless when trying to combat the Movie Theater Dick.

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Yikes! Jessica Simpson and her mom Tina are about to kiss! There’s nothing wrong with a peck between a mother and daughter, but eyes closed, head-tilted, pantomime make outs for the benefit of the press? Now that’s wrong. You know creepy Papa Joe was loving this.

Using any type of argument, explanation or rationalization, can you find one thing that’s RIGHT with this picture?

Give us your best shot in the comment section below.

For more “What’s Right with this Picture?” fun, click here!

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The Dance Dance Revolution came and this week’s “Would You Rather” was not spared. Put on your black ties and ballroom gowns and decide which person you would rather have as a dance partner.

Watch the videos and choose wisely. Don’t forget to check back to see the results. Thanks for voting!

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The New York Post, ever the dignified publication, is pulling no punches attacking the Patriots in its pre-Super Bowl hype.

First, the Post columnist who defines “face for print”, Andrea Peyser , goes after the “boring and vapid” Tom Brady. Always forcing her ugly mug into other people’s business, Andrea accuses Brady of crimes against humanity including, but not limited to, going out to dinner and visiting his girlfriend.

Oh, Andrea also professes her love for the “real man” Eli Manning. I have to say he’s looking fly in the khakis, red Lacoste shirt, and docksiders he’s definitely wearing. I guess she likes the Judge Smails type.

Next, the Post runs pictures and descriptions of all the Patriots who have been arrested in the past. From traffic altercations to dropped charges, the Post stops at nothing to sling a little mud. Fucking unbelievable. I’m sure the NY Giants are all saints who help old hags cross the street. Have they ever helped you Andrea?

This is quite the turn around for the local rag seen in this link bashing one of its own. Over the summer the paper relentlessly slammed, defamed, and humiliated Giants DE Michael Strahan during his divorce trial.

Keep up the inflammatory work, fuckheads!

Photo doctored from a photo originally on Sports by Brooks

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Can you think of a funny caption for this picture of New Year’s Eve revelers in England? Add your caption in the comment section below.

Click here for our full list of caption-able pics.

Send us your funniest, weirdest, most random pics for Caption This!
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This week Bryan discusses why introduction games should meet their end. To catch up on past columns, you can find them in the Premature Exasperations Archive.

Ice Breaking is for the Titanic
By Bryan

In the annals of bad group activities, one type ranks as the worst. It trumps Uncle Milton’s Bedroom Marco Polo and certainly beats a room full of hookers doing it with each other on a table I refer, of course, to ice breakers.

It goes by many names such as “Shoe Pile” and “M&M Game.” Yes, even the popular drinking game, “Never Have I Ever” falls into this category; a testament to their shape-shifting abilities. They are all intended to spark interactions and facilitate conversations filled with ego inflation.

Circles are always involved; I guess circles make the activities more ritualized and allow everyone to see each other, but that does not justify them. I don’t trust circles, never have. Human sacrifices happen in circles. Death Stars happen in circles. Wagons attack Indians in circles.

And they are liars. The games are liars and it makes liars out of people. They lure participants in with fun names like, “Silly Scrumples” and “Toilet Paper Roll.” In “Toilet Paper Roll,” all the idiots sit in a circle (of course) and are told to pull as much toilet paper as they think they’ll need. What the leader doesn’t tell everyone is that for every square pulled, you must tell one fact about yourself. There’s always that one asshole, who pulls half the roll and has to lie about his favorite color and then accidentally digs too deep for his 64th fact about how he almost went to Tibet but decided to work that week to save money for a ticket to see Hootie and the Blowfish. I should know since I was that asshole the first time I played, and I figured they were telling me the truth about the TP. And I had a bad case of Mexican food.

I took an informal survey of 100 people asking if they enjoy ice breakers. Ninety-nine unidentified respondents said “No” or open- handed slapped me in the face. One guy named Bill Mueller from Delaware said he loved them and his favorite car was a Saturn.

Perhaps you’ve attended a party where someone tries to make these games risqué. That doesn’t help and in fact only leads to awkward, morning after encounters and social worker involvement. Ever played drunken, sexy “Light Sabers?” A corollary question, ever had to register as a sexual predator after a nosy neighbor spies you doing it in their gated backyard?

I was wrangled into one called “Ice Cream Flavor,” where each person has to describe themselves as an ice cream flavor. Have you ever heard of such a thing?! What kind of world does this breed? Sketch artists drawing criminals that look like banana splits? Christian Children’s Fund kids reading letters from a same-sex bucket of rainbow sherbet sponsor? The blind being duped into marrying pint-sized Peaches n’ Creams but actually coupling with gallon-sized Rocky Roads?

In ice breakers—particularly “Two Truths and a Lie”—everyone’s either a bore, braggart or comedian. One guy with particularly bad posture said, “I have one brother, I once stayed up for a week straight, and I’m an invertebrate.” Turns out he had perfect posture; he was just playing the game and playing us all for fools in the process!

In the future when a group of new people are meeting each other, let’s keep it simple with a little game called, “Cereal.” Everyone stands up and walks to their respective places, and if you find yourself eating a morning bowl of cereal with a person you’ll get to know them. No one likes anyone in the morning so if you’re eating breakfast with them, then you’re probably friends. All of the others can stay in their own circles.

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Everyone has a creepy co-worker. At Contemptster World Headquarters it’s Dan. You may recognize him from the photo in Creepy, Lurking Office Creep. Adding Dan and his creepy stare to any situation automatically makes that situation seem somehow dirty. Go ahead, add the words “…while Dan watches” to the end of any sentence and you’ll see what we mean. In this segment, we hope to prove that Dan’s creepiness needn’t be confined to the office. He can sully any scenario under the sun just by his sheer presence alone.

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I was looking at my old blog and found this post with the above headline. Apparently, with our looming recession and a housing and loan crisis, the obvious answer to that question was “YES!! Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie!” Here’s the original post (and I don’t feel bad recycling from my old site. No one read that either.):

Here’s an ad I found on Yahoo! today from Lowermybills.com. You may recognize that name as it’s usually found in-between a “penile enlargement” and a “nude pictures of Lindsay Lohan” email in your spam folder.

I realize tattoos are all the rage in this “alternative-style-to -look-like-everyone-else” age, but a cartoon needle inking a “Calculate New Payments” tattoo on your arm? It comes across as slightly, if not, obscenely ridiculous. Not to mention sleazy. This is not the place I’d go to sign 30 years of my life away. I don’t know, something about it just screams, “predatory lending!”

What’s next, a flash animated lip piercing promoting doctors in your area?

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Hey, everyone! We are so excited for you all to be sharing in our special day. It’s just going to be such a special, special day! Doubly special because it’s located in a completely illogical and difficult to attend location!

We hope all of you will be able to afford the plane fare, hotel cost and the fat check you’re required to give us. Aren’t weddings wonderful?! We look forward to having you miss work to travel for hours and hours at your own expense just so we can give you a cursory “hello, thanks for coming” at the reception. We are so excited!

Barely acknowledging the effort it took for you to attend is our way of saying thank you! Hope to see you all there on our special day!

Contempty says: Destination wedding attendees, don’t feel so bad. Sure you’re out a lot of money, but take solace in knowing that the happy honeymooners have no idea that THEIR next destination is hell. Bon voyage, motherfuckers!

For more everyday assholes, click here.
While you’re there, check out the Bad Parent.

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Please go to FindMichaelBresnahan.com and see if this guy is familiar to you. If you’ve seen him, call 1-800-KAPTURE (1-800-527-8873). Thanks.

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If you have six plus minutes and haven’t seen this Scientology video before (which you probably have) check it out and become my slave! I mean become enlightened to the farce that is Scientology.

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My old lady and I saw this dude and his…uh…“friend” while we were walking through Central Park last summer.

Sure, there are plenty of things wrong here. Almost too many to count. Using any type of argument, explanation or rationalization, can you find one thing that’s RIGHT with this picture?

Give us your best shot in the comment section below.

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This week, amateur talent vie for a seat on the trip to the sun. The contenders are Angry “Documentarian” and Ironic “Comic”. Which one do you think most deserves an all expense paid trip to the sun courtesy of Contemptster.com?

Watch the videos and cast your vote below. Don’t forget to check back to see the results. Thanks for voting!

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Hoop sent in this interesting study about rude behaviors. Pretty good list. Some of them (#1 & #5) aren’t so much rude as they are blatant discrimination, but it’s a good list. Number nine could qualify as a rude smoker, or a militant non-smoker. If we’re in a smoking area I’m not asking permission for shit, you PC lap dogs. Don’t stand in a smoking area.

Hoop, if you have the link to the Boston.com article that went with this graphic please send it to us. UPDATE: Here’s the accompanying article.

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After a long hiatus Premie E. is back! In case you haven’t used this downtime catching up on past columns, you can find them in the Premature Exasperations Archive. This week Bryan asserts his theory about Pacman Jones’ insatiable appetite for gentleman’s clubs.

Pacman Jones to public, “Arrrgh, Strippers! My Only Weakness!”
By Bryan

I’m convinced Pacman Jones is an alien. The NFL star, embroiled in legal trouble generally stemming from various nightclub incidents, cannot be from Earth. He was recently accused of an incident involving assault at a strip club earlier this month. Although the charge was dropped, it raises the question, why continue to visit a place that’s wrought so much harm? His continued failings frustrate me as a football fan and as a believer in free-will. What rational Earthling could continue to frequent gentleman’s clubs when they consistently lead to the stymieing of his abilities?

None; Pacman’s an alien.

Adam “Pacman” Jones was born on the planet Stripton located in the TittyWay Galaxy right next to the Pasties star cluster (these stars look flashy, but their brightness partially conceal the gorgeous globes located in TittyWay). Stripton was an unstable planet that rotated about a gigantic heeled axis. The planet subsisted by rotating near its sun, exposing its South Pole and accepting the sun’s resources in its equatorial belt. However, the planet had a penchant for shedding atmospheric layers and getting dangerously close to its excitable sun. One fateful day, Stripton slipped on its heeled axis, ripped off its atmosphere and rolled uncontrollably toward the sun. Obviously the sun lost its shit all over Stripton, leaving the planet’s tiny moon to fend for itself. Adam Jones luckily escaped in a rocket to Earth where he landed in Georgia, and grew into young adulthood. Upon reaching maturity, Adam’s superhuman athletic ability developed, and he transitioned to a life of playing the Earthly game of football under the heroic name, Pacman. Nothing could stop him—so it seemed.

One substance hailing form Pacman’s home planet could defeat him. Stockpiles of the substance are kept in establishments around the world, set as traps to slow Pacman down.

Strippers. Strippers of all sorts: Thai strippers, white strippers, barely legal Eastern European strippers, big-bootied strippers, Eskimo strippers, and octogenarian strippers. The kind doesn’t matter, as long as they take their clothes off consistently and thoroughly, preferably near a pole. Pacman keeps falling for the trap, and the strippers immediately weaken his good judgment, rendering his athletic ability useless.

Pacman Jones and I have three things in common. One, neither of us played in the NFL this past season. Two, we both carry dollar bills sometimes. Finally, we have both gone to a strip club. The “sole” club I’ve ever visited was Southern Exposure located in West Virginia; a place I’m sure Pacman sampled at least once when living in Morgantown. The building, a seemingly gutted and converted Lowe’s, looks like the product of a sexy and corrupt Flip This House episode. The girls get fully nude and smell like a Sonic drive-thru and lavender. While watching one particular lady take off her clothes, I realized how weird the concept of stripping seemed.

Then it clicked. For Pacman Jones stripping isn’t weird, it’s just a reminder of home. He doesn’t want trouble; he’s just a homesick alien. It’s like me getting soul food to relive childhood memories of the South only for Pacman the food has swinging titties, the serving tongs are thongs, and the cobbler is a no holds barred lap dance in the manager’s office.

Alien nostalgia, that’s the only reasonable explanation.

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This week’s “Would You Rather” puts the animal kingdom to the test…IRISH STYLE! Which drunk animal that’s invading your property would you rather have to wrangle and escort back to their home/nest/jungle?

Watch the videos and choose wisely. Don’t forget to check back to see the results. Thanks for voting!

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Here are the Top 3 things annoying me this week:

3. I just found out there’s birth control called “Yaz”. Why would you choose to name your birth control drug “Yaz” when that nickname is already taken by Red Sox Hall of Famer Carl “Yaz” Yastrzemski? Just weird. Up next, the Hammerin’ Hank Sponge.

2. Gawker commenters in general. Their self importance, pouting, and complaining about the site’s new direction while at the same time using Gawker to promote their own sites, specifically. Like these guys.

1. “It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that bling. Ba da ba da ba da ba da bling” This is just a horrible commercial. These guys agree. If you have this New York State Lottery “BaDa Bling” commercial please post it on YouTube and send us the link. UPDATE: Ah, here it is:

What else should we be on the look out for?

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Our voting system is fixed! No, not the 2000 Presidential Election kind of fixed (or 1960 if you want to be a dick about it), but repaired fixed. You can now vote on the Contempt-o-Meter at will. Thanks for your patience.

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I can’t even put together my thoughts on the Creation Museum without getting really ranty and probably offensive so I’ll leave it at this: in order to gain access to any of the “answers” the Creation Museum and its sponsored literature provides you need to pay upwards of 20 dollars. The Smithsonian? Free. Read through the website, it’s one big tease to get you to visit or buy a book. If they cared so much about spreading The Word surely they can explain on their website how exactly humans and dinosaurs co-existed free of charge.

Human chillaxin’ with a dinosaur at the Creation Museum

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Can you think of a funny caption for this picture of Pauly Shore, Pam Anderson and former Hell’s Angel Chuck Zito? Add your caption in the comment section below.

Click here for our full list of caption-able pics.

Send us your funniest, weirdest, most random pics for Caption This!
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Just below this post is a voting scale that is really fun to use. It helps us rank the Top 25 Jerks and let’s us know if we’re doing a good job. It also doesn’t work right now. Sorry for the inconvenience, but our voting system was designed by Debolt so what can you do?

The problem is that every vote cast rates as a zero or sometimes as a one. I don’t know if WordPress or our site designer is trying to tell us something, but so it goes. All of your votes, no matter how positive, are driving the rankings down. All you’re hard work wasted. Mich, I’m talking about you! We’re sorry. When we resolve this issue, we’ll probably delete all the zero votes so it doesn’t screw up the rankings too bad, so if you were actually voting zero, ha ha. I’ll let you know when it’s back up and running. Spanks!

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From the Inbox

Kelli from Oregon writes

“Hi. One thing that really bothers me is people who dress like they live in California or somewhere sunny when really they live in Oregon or somewhere not sunny. Guys who walk by in pink shirts with the collar up (you nailed that one perfect), board shorts and mandals (man-sandals) even though it’s raining outside or girls who wear mini skirts, tanks and flip flops. And then they stand there and complain how cold it is… DUH!”

Good to hear form you, Kelli. You being from Oregon I’d imagine the population of sandal wearing men to be matched only by white guys with dreadlocks and women selling patchouli from the back of their AstroVans, so I feel/smell your pain.

These people you’re complaining about, I like to call them “idiots”. Not the cool, Johnny Damon circa 2004 Idiots mind you, but the idiots they used to keep locked in cages in old west saloons when they weren’t dancing for scraps of horse meat. Big time idiots.

These are the assholes that went to Club Med when they were kids and used to brag about traveling to places you’d never heard of, like Guadeloupe. These people buy the most expensive surf boards and surf…once. These are the dudes that only drink Corona because advertising easily sways them. They think they can be the next Jack Johnson. Worse, they just bought an acoustic guitar and are “writing” music. Poseurs, Kelli, they are poseurs. Image whores and nothing more.

As for the girls that wear next to nothing on cold days, I see no problem with that.

Thanks for writing.

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Roll down the window and put your hands on the steering wheel, ma’am. Do you know how fast you were going? Well, I’ll tell you. 70 miles per hour, five miles over the legal limit on this highway. Kindly put your bosoms away because they’re no use to you here.

Didja not see the signs? Is that your excuse for putting countless lives at risk on this deserted highway at 1 am? Let me tell you a little story about another person who wanted to put lives at risk.

Once upon a time there was a kid who got beat up at school a lot. When he’d come home, his mom liked to put her cigarettes out on his arms. After barely graduating high school, he became a cop so he could finally direct his pent up anger by walking around arrogantly and flaunting his skewed version of authority.

Do you know who that person was? That’s right. It was me: Officer Douchebag. And every time some lady like you speeds by my radar, it’s like another cigarette burn in my arm. Now I get to dish out my own brand of justice. Are you Latina or light skinned African American by any chance? No? Just tan? That’s fine. Just asking.

At this point I’m going to go back to my car and run your plates. It only takes about 30 seconds to do, but I’ll make you sweat for 10 minutes or so. I’m actually jerking off back here, but my boner has nothing to do with you. Oh no. It’s the power.

I know that the worst I can do to you is give you a ticket, which you’ll probably find a way to get out of anyway. So the least I can do to feel satisfied is make you late for wherever you’re headed. I may even force you to do a sobriety test even though there is no evidence whatsoever that you’d been drinking. Your embarrassment and aggravation are all the reward I need.

On your way home, enjoy thinking about how your taxes pay for the continuation of my unhealthy obsession with power. Now you have a good day, ma’am.

One way to get out of a speeding ticket (Not recommended).

Know your rights when dealing with the Asshole Cop.

For more people that make commuting more annoying, click here.
While you’re there, flip the bird to Cuts You Off Then Drives Insanely Slow.

*Contemptster.com has the utmost respect for police officers. Every occupation has a few assholes, though, and the police are certainly no exception.

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See those sweet new graphics on the right hand side of the page? Well, don’t click them…yet. They are the links to all new features that we’re premiering everyday this week and for many weeks to come. The features are fun and interactive. Some you can vote on, watch videos for, write captions and comments about. It’s a virtual funhouse of fun.

Here’s our schedule for this week:

Today checkout “Trip to the Sun” and vote for which asshole to send to the sun. All expenses paid of course.

Tomorrow we premiere “Have You Seen This Jerk?” Help us track down the world’s most elusive and obnoxious people.

Wednesday we have “Caption This!” Feel like you’re part of the Contemptster team and help us come up with catchy captions to a photo that we post.

Thursday premieres “While Dan Watches” with Dan, the creepy guy that hangs out in our office. He really has seen it all, but now you can see him seeing it. Get it?

Friday, “Would You Rather…” peers deep into the dark reaches of your soul to examine your biggest fears and phobias. Then it pits them against each other forcing you to decide which one you’d rather choose.

Just tell your boss now that you’re not going to be doing any work this week. They’ll understand.

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This week’s contenders are Animal Teasers and Child Teasers. Which one do you think most deserves an all expense paid trip to the sun courtesy of Contemptster.com?

Watch the videos and cast your vote below. Don’t forget to check back to see the results. Thanks for voting!

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Hide your glasses: BLOG FIGHT! Remember all this talk about how nerds are the new hip, popular people because computers (Macs), the Web, indie music and “gadgets” have taken over as the cool things? Remember? Well is it too late to go back on it because I think we need some atomic wedgies, stat, in the blogosphere right about now. I mean does someone have Ogre on speed dial? Is Alpha Beta in the mutha fuckin’ house or what? Why I ask is because I’m one blogger fight away from pushing my IT guy down a flight of stairs and living off the grid for a few years. That’s why.

You may have heard about the shake up over at Gawker, but seeing how it’s no longer 2004 you probably haven’t. Long story short, some people quit and then some people were hired (I think they have 5,000 editors and “reporters” at this point) and then one of these new people quit after one day.

Here’s the Daily Intelligencer post on Richard Morgan, the blogger who quit Gawker after one day, in an interview conducted over IM. Later, the post was updated with comments from Gawker Founder and Managing Editor, Nick Denton, with quotes also gathered through IM. So to break down the meta, that’s two bloggers, IMing with third party blog who then relays the bitching over to you. Ladies and gentlemen: the Internet!

Well, because of this I’m quitting Contemptster and the “field” of blogging. And to do it in a hip, nerdy, tech-infused, blogger fashion I’m doing it via IM. Here’s my good bye IM conversation with The Founder (of this website).

Contempty: OMG, the internets r crzy. I has invisible brain tumor. Blogs r dead kant take it no mur. We still frends tho OK? THXBAI!!!1!

TheFounder: You stay. U sing contrakt!

Contempty: WTF! Do not want!

TheFounder: KTHX 4 yur hard work Bai!

Contempty: L8R!!1!

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Question:
Dear Contempty,
Who do you plan to vote for in the upcoming presidential election? - P. Diddy

Answer:
Sadly, as a mosquito I don’t have the right to vote, P. Diddy. However, I do occasionally like to throw my support behind a candidate that I think has the most contempt for people.

In the current race, I see a lot of contempt out there. On the Democratic side, Mr. Obama has none. So he’s out.

John Edwards, same deal. Too nice. Although it might be beneficial to have a president who can speak to the dead.

Hillary Clinton, on the other hand, is a shrill, angry harpee with a resevoir of contempt as deep as the ocean. Can you blame her? She’s the personification of pent up sexual frustration. Bill would rather nail an HIV infected needle than touch her. It’s not unreasonable to assume that with every awkward sexual rebuff — poof! — there goes another missile. “Sorry ’bout your luck, Tajikistan, but Bill had another one of his headaches.” So Hillary, it seems, would be a good choice.

On the Republican side, there is always a lot of contempt going on. These guys don’t even pretend to be likable most of the time. McCain may seem like an everyman who you could have a beer with, but look at him cross-eyed and he’ll snap your neck like Steven Seagal at a henchmen convention. John McCain ’s entire campaign staff deserted him. How does a former POW and certified American hero manage that? I don’t know, but I’d like to find out.

Giuliani’s contempt runs deep, as well. His kids hate him, his ex-wives hate him and fire fighters hate him. Sounds like presidential material to me! If he’s elected, I guarantee his contempt for the world will shine through. Look at it this way. The Republican party contains huge contingents of Americans who oppose gay rights and the right to choose. Republican Rudy loves the gays AND aborted babies. What better way to show contempt for large numbers of people than that? Plus, he’ll be the guy who invades Iran, topples Ahmadinejad and installs Fredo Corleone. I’d vote for him just to hear the guy say, “Leave the oil. Take the cannoli.”

So I guess when it comes down to it, I’ll throw my weight (all .0004 ounces of it) behind Giuliani because nobody has more contempt for his fellow man than a crotchety, divorced, balding New York Yankees fan who doesn’t speak to his kids and occasionally dresses in drag for yucks.

Thanks for your question.

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Moments later, tragedy struck.

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Go to hell, wind. Seriously, you blow.

Today, you turned a clear, sunny, winter day into a hike across the Ronne Ice Shelf. You helped turn 7th Avenue into an aerodynamics lab leaving hats, newspapers, and plastic bags swirling around in your wake. For an encore, you forced snot out my nose and spread it across my cheek freezing it into a disgusting icicle of mucus. Today is the day I stand up to you and call you out for what you are: a dick.

Here’s an innovative “Pro vs. Con” analysis of why you suck:

Wind as Transportation
Pro: Wind was used to navigate the oceans to discover the New World
Con: Wind brought Europeans, plague, and mass death to New World

Wind as Fuel
Pro: Wind powers mills, water pumps, and is a reliable source of “green” energy.
Con: Like the corporate world, wind’s new “green” focus is façade to cover up an ugly history as a harbinger of mass death including hurricanes, cyclones, and tornadoes.

Wind as Refreshment
Pro: On a steamy July day a nice breeze is more than welcome.
Con: This, however, rarely occurs. Instead wind waits for a thunder storm so it can meet with its pals lighting and rain to bring upon mass death.

Wind as a Source of Frostbite
Pro: Nobody better suited for the job.
Con: Nobody better suited for the job…of causing mass death.

War on drugs? I say it’s time for a war on wind!

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New Year. Fuck You. Shit, man! Hey, 2008, you spawned 2007, no breaks for you, motherfucker. 2007 was a shit soaked year. Hope you do better, dick. No need to get into the 2007 monotony here. Just read one of the million or so blogs that complained about 2007. Then go light yourself on fire. It would be more fun.

Fuck this New Year bullshit. Just like retail needs to exploit the birth of the messiah (the one true God) in order to bring the books into the black, New Years exploits the 365.25 rotations of the Earth during its trip around the sun in order to supply bars with the income to keep the taps flowing throughout the year. Swell. Like I need another excuse to drink to blindness on a weeknight. The fact that I hate my job and boss aren’t enough. I need a trip around the sun to remind me how much my life sucks. As Juno would say, “some fucking catchy insult that’s clever and really fucking hip!!!!!” Whew that felt good. Pregnancy! Punk rock!

That’s alls I gots. Happy New Year time slaves.

Come back soon!!!!! We love you.

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