I knew you took it, John.

The other day, modern day Jazz great, John Legend came by my pad, which, I assure you is somewhere near 1350 square feet of the sweetest heaven he’s ever seen in his life. He seemed particularly fascinated by my incredible skills in décor and the fact that I have Golden Tee Golf for my PS2. He begged to play and three bottles of Cristall later, after I was 32 under par and he was 3 over (not bad for someone who has logged under 3,000 hours of videogame golf), he asked if he could borrow it. Of course, I said, “Hell no. Buy your own. But you can borrow Mario Kart, if you want.” He got mad and stomped out like a 5 year old and said he was headed clubbing. The next morning I noticed that the cool ass Acme Anvil I had in my front yard (Because, really, who doesn’t love all things Wile-E-Coyote?) was missing. After seeing this picture, it’s obvious that John did, in fact, steal my anvil and decided to hide it in the front of his pants. John, when you wake up, I fully expect that back. Damn, man, that’s just sorry to steal aother man’s anvil. Are you frickin’ kidding me? Look at that thing! I’m sure every chic that ever saw him naked immediately had Sesame Street flashbacks and began calling him Mr. Snufflelufagus. Does that thing have its own kickstand, John? Zip code maybe? He sure as hell ain’t the one that will disprove the age old myth of who has the bigger appendages. Thanks a lot, John. That high pitched sound that made your ears bleed at 8 am this morning was the unified screams of white men across the planet opening their email to see this picture and beg1n to sob in shame. Inconsiderate bastard.