I WANT YOUR VOTE!

Hello, maybe you know me. I'm Patrick the Angry, Angry Viewer and I need your vote.

As none of the candidates so far have shown any creativity, I am proud to announce that I am running for President of the United States.

What will I do that no one else will?

I will fix healthcare, social security and terrorism with one move.

Quite simply: I will eliminate Paris Hilton.

Killing Paris will improve healthcare by saving billions of dollars in insurance claims for antibiotics.

After we whack Paris Hilton, I expect her assets can fund Social Security until 2099.

And, we will finally beat al Quaeda because I am fully convinced Osama Bin Laden is hiding out in Paris Hilton’s vagina.

If you believe I am a candidate you can believe in, please support the campaign by purchasing official Patrick for President Campaign Gear @ www.cafepress.com/angrypatrick or by donation @ http://www.coreyandjayshow.com/Angry11-02-07.html

Stalking Pays Off

Damn that Burger King guy!

You've seen the commercials where he just shows up at someone's window with some kind of breakfast sandwich that actually causes your arteries to harden AS you eat it. Nonetheless, as I have preached and preached and preached....you can even be a creepy, no talking freak but if you show up at enough windows with food, some girl is gonna go for it.

But how did he get to Jessica frickin' Alba's window? I tried and I got hit 8 times with a taser before I could get across her fence. I bet he gave the guards a bunch of Whoppers with cheese. Bastard. I would have brought over a grill and slaughtered cattle in her yard all day long if she would have just asked. I bet that pansy ass Burger King stalker never even took on a long horned steer. Phony ass, son of a .....

Oh wait....that's not the BK guy. That's Shrek.... errr, Austin Powers....errrr....some damn Mike Myers character. I still stand by everything I said. He probably brought her fat ass some food. Gobble it down Jessica McFatty. I bet if I cut you that gravy would come out. You disgust me. But, if you call me, I might take all that back and say you are really pretty.

Who Wants to be Abused?

I want you listeners to get behind a wonderful charity that’s near and dear to my heart. I’m talking about the Patrick the Needy, Needy Viewer fund. The fact is, this station is too damned cheap to pay me so I’m Broker than a boatload of Cuban refugees. !00% of every donation you make goes to support my pathetic lifestyle. Your donation helps with things like a new set of hubcaps for my Sunfire, a computer with something more current than Windows 98, underwear without holes in the ass or maybe just a pack of ramen noodles so I don’t become the Hungry, Hungry Viewer. And it’s so easy to help! When you log on to Corey and Jay’s website to listen to my rants you’ll see the donation button right there. As an added bonus, for every donation made I will send you personalized verbal abuse via email. Donations over $20 will be assaulted via telephone. Imagine telling your friends that The Angry Viewer abused you. What a proud moment. Don’t be a cheap bastard. Help me today. Paypal is standing by. http://www.coreyandjayshow.com/ANGRYINDEX.html

The Kid is Doomed

This one has my temper shorter than Dennis Kusinich in a booster seat at Shoneys. Let’s all congratulate Anthony Kiedis, lead singer of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and his girlfriend who just had a baby boy. His name? Everly Bear.

The Pepper singer said, “It came to me by way of the Everly Brothers, which is one of my favorite bands,” His girlfriend, Heather Christie “came up with Bear. And Kiedis said, “That made sense to me because he’s from me and I feel like I’m part of the bear clan.”

Are you frickin’ kidding me?

Bear Clan? I hate to break it to you, Anthony, but you’re not even hairy. I wish to God I didn’t know that but during your 20 year career the only person with more naked appearances than you is Jenna Jameson. Speaking of Jenna, saying your part of the Bear Clan makes about as much sense as me saying I’m part of the Porn Star Clan. I mean, other than the fact that I’m hung like a tic tac and my endurance is just a little shorter than the time it takes to make toast I fit right in.

And is that really the best name you could come up with? Why didn’t you and Heather just name the kid Bong Hit or Acid Trip because apparently that’s what you were doing when you named him Everly Bear. Come on, you’re a frickin’ rocker, dude. That name’s gayer than Richard Simmons gym shorts. Damn, what were the runner ups? Toodles McRopesmoker? Clay Aiken Jr? Well get ready for a lot of trips to the ER because Everly Bear is destined to spend his playground life getting hit more times than Whitney Houston's crack pipe.

I’m setting my DVR to record COPS 18 years from now just so I can watch a grown up Everly Bear whip your ass.

Well, congratulations on the new baby anyway, dumbass

Kirsten Shreds For YOU!

Kirsten Dunst said, “Action movies entail sitting in a trailer all day and not doing anything. You get there at six in the morning, you get all dressed up, put your make-up on and it seeps into your pores all day long and it's really boring. I always have a lot of action in these films, and I don't like it.”

Boy I understand that. It must really suck to spend three months not doing very much and getting paid about SIX MILLION DOLLARS!

Are you frickin’ kidding me?

You’re complaining about getting paid to sit in an air conditioned trailer and do nothing all day. Hell, Corey and Jay have been doing that for years and you don’t here them complaining. Lemme tell you something, for six million dollars I’d be willing to spend the entire three months with my lips superglued to the director’s ass. I’d just ask to be released an hour each week so I could work over a pack or two of Dentyne Ice before I puckered up again.

And how the hell could you say you have nothing to do. Here’s an idea: Maybe everyone on the set could swing by when they have some downtime and you could use that isosceles triangle factory in the middle of your face to shred all of their old documents. Or maybe you could get in about 8 hours a day gnawing lumber for the set builders. Or how about this: Why don’t you shut that flappin’ cakehole before you say something else that's basically the equivalent of squattin down and unloading the Lincoln logs all over your audience.

Lindsay's Broke

This one has me more rattled than Rudy Giuliani at a Promise Keeper’s Rally. According to News of the World, In the past year, Lindsay Lohan has reportedly blown $7 million and is now completely broke.

Lindsay wasted $1 million on a year's stay at the Chateau Marmont hotel, $70,000 on tanning, $1 million on clothes, $500,000 on partying, $350,000 on cars, and $137,000 on her three trips to rehab.

Are you frickin’ kidding me?

How the hell can you could spend $70,000 on tanning? The only way you should be able to get close to that is if you were hitching a ride with NASA and laying out on the wing of the frickin’ space shuttle. And a million dollars on clothes? Have you seen the way she dresses? She must be getting ripped off because wherever she’s shopping doesn’t even supply enough fabric to cover her oval office. And you might think the least they could do is throw in a frickin’ bra every once in a while. Then again, maybe she’s buying her clothes from a Columbian cartel that weaves them out of 100% pure coca leaves. That way after she takes her shirt off, she can just chop it up and snort it. As a matter of fact, as much blow as she’s done she’s probably number one on the Drug Lord Christmas Card list.

Which brings me to her bill for rehab. Hell, that thing’s bigger than the entire gross national product of Zimbabwe and I still don’t think she’s really sober. But I have an idea about how to find out! I bet if you went out to Hollywood at about midnight and set up a giant mousetrap but instead of cheese you put a pile of uncut cocaine on it… when the sun came up you’d find ole Lindsay snapped in half with her nose about a half inch from the pile with a giant smile on her face. At least she would have died doing what she loved.

But, the good news for Lindsay is that a paycheck is probably in her near future since she just started filming her new movie Dare to Love Me about a legendary tango dancer from Buenos Aires. Dare to Love Me is the name of the movie? Do I really even need a punchline there? Dare is right. Because on your way to love her you better dare to hold up the convenience store for every condom they have or you’ll end up with something Terminix can’t get rid of. And whoever you are, stay away from the giant mouse trap.

That's wierd...

What in the heck is Lindsay Lohan doing with that guy from Criminal Minds. You know, the one with a chick's name....Mandy, or Mangie or whatever. I bet she thinks he really is a criminal profiler and she just asked him to find the person who stole her blow while she was in rehab. Here's how I think the conversation went:

Lindsay: Dude, like I know you are a supergenius and can track down any criminal. I need your help cuz somebody stole my effing blow and I effing need that effing stuff and I need it fast.

Criminal Minds dude: Yeah, Lindsay, see (exhasperated sigh)...I just play that role on TV. I also was in Elmo in Grouchland but I'm not really a bad guy.

Lindsay: Ooooooh. I loved that movie. I bet Mr. Snuffalufagus is seriously packing some man meat. But...really, come on, I need your help. Who do you think took my blow?

Criminal Minds dude: Ummmmm, Lindsay, (uncontrollable snicker), Mr. Snuffalufagus is a puppet.

Lindsay: Oh shit. For real? Wow. Wait, are you gonna try and tell me Big Bird is not real either because I'm not buying that bullshit. Quit effing with me, dude, and use your profiler skills to help. Now, who do you think took my blow.

Criminal Minds dude: If I tell you my hunch will you promise to never, ever, ever call me again?

Lindsay: (scratches own cooter, looks thoughtful) Sure.

Criminal Minds dude: I think it was your mom.

Lindsay: I knew it! That whore! She takes everything! She stole my last two boyfriends and my best lip gloss, too. I will kill that bitch!

CORRECTION: The man in the picture is ACTUALLY her dad. My mistake, yet, I still think the conversation went almost exactly the same.

Ja Rule is a Ja Idiot

This one has me more fired up than that bag of poop I keep putting on my neighbor’s front porch. Just to be able tell you about this one I have to do a little creative editing. So, everytime Ja Rule says the “F-word” I’m gonna replace it with some version of Michael Vick’s name.

At a congressional hearing about how African American women are portrayed in rap music, hip hop star, Ja Rule had this to say, “. Let’s talk about all these Vicking shows that they have on MTV that is promoting homosexuality, that my kids can't watch this shit," he went on to say. "Dating shows that's showing two guys or two girls in mid-afternoon. Let's talk about shit like that! If that's not Vicking up America, I don't know what is."

Are you Vickin’ kidding me? I’ll tell you one thing that’s Vicking up America. Your grammar skills. If you’re subject and verb agreements were any farther apart they’d be Paris Hilton’s legs. With grammar that bad you just might have what it takes to be the next president. And, while I’m on the subject, I hope I’m not goin’ too far out on a limb here but you talkin’ like Vicking Scarface might be something that affects your kids a little more than the gay MTV.

Here’s what I imagine a Ja Rule father-son evening sounds like. Hey son, nice job on that MichaelVicking math test. By the way, what you watchin’? Oh Vick. Wait a Vicking minute. Is that that Vicking MTV show with all those Vicking gay people? We got to Vicking get rid of those MichaleVicking Vickwads. Now, turn that Vicking TV off, Vickhead and go get daddy his Vicking weed so he can calm the Vick down. How the Vick am I supposed to Vicking raise some good MichaleVicking kids? “

Yeah, Ja Rule. I couldn’t agree more. It’s those homosexuals messing everything up. By the way, Britney Spears just called and she thinks you might be setting a bad example for your kids. Assclown.

Bring on the Predator, baby!

Former Playboy pin up Denise Richards has accused her ex, actor Charlie Sheen, of being addicted to porn and exposing his private parts on sleazy internet sex sites. Denise says that ole Charlie sent a picture of his “penis” to at least 30 women on "hook-up" sites and this is one of her main arguments for custody. Are you frickin’ kidding me? 30 women, huh? So lemme get this straight, Charlie sent pictures of his Ivory Billed Woodpecker to 30 chics online while Denise posed for Playboy, which basically was like sending pictures of her Bermuda Triangle to 30 million horny dudes. She also had a lesbian sex scene in the movie Wild Things that was seen by 5 million people in the theater and was rented another 10 million times on DVD in the US. So, if my count is correct….Charlie sent out the Glamour Shots version of Captain Kilbasa to 30 women on the internet and Denise showed off Mrs. Sphincter's next door neighbor to 45 million people in the US alone. And you know what? Charlie has hooked up with some of the hottest women I’ve ever seen. Hell yeah he’s proud of that thing! He should bronze it. I wouldn’t blame him one bit if he used those pictures for this year’s family Christmas cards. Merry Christmas from Charlie and his holiday bagpipe. You know, Denise, few things in the world are more annoying than a hypocrite. I know you're ridiculously hot but I’d rather be trapped in a cell with the freaking Predator than spend 10 minutes with your wacky ass. And even after he severed me in half and I saw my own twitching lower torso, I’d still be saying “Thank God I got away from Denise. That bitch is crazy”. I’m with Team Charlie.

I'll just catch the Waffle House version, Hef...

First up, this one has me crabbier than a cannibal on an all Nicole Richie diet. Hollywood socialite, daughter of OJ attorney Robert Kardashian and the star of her own sex tape, Kim Kardashian, has decided to pose for Playboy. Though her body is mostly draped in sheets and jewelry, the source says that Kardashian’s 12 page spread "will show one boob, and her bare butt." Are you frickin’ kidding me? One boob and a bare butt? Hell, she’s already done a sex tape so what’s the point of looking at a single boob in Playboy when I can just log onto the internet and watch some dude give her the Waffle House treatment for an hour… and by Waffle House treatment I mean scattered, smothered, covered, chunked, topped, flipped, flopped and whatever other adjective fits. I mean, Jesus H. Jahosephat Jones, she’s already shown us what a full grown woman looks like in the spin cycle and now she wants to be modest in Playboy? And to top that off, now she’s gonna have her own reality show? Well, damn, I guess the name of the show will be Kim’s Kidneys because that’s about the only part of her we haven’t already gotten to know. And what the hell is wrong with Hugh Hefner? Playboy’s doing a 12 page spread and she’s not even gonna give a peek at the easy bake oven? The only explanation is that it will take the entire centerfold just to capture a single shot of her giant ass. And, don’t get me wrong because I love a girl with junk in the trunk but her ass is so big that David Blaine couldn’t make that thing disappear. Hell, her badonkadonk is so intimidating that J-Lo’s ass just got a restraining order against it. Come on, Hef.. She’s better suited for magazines with names like Plump Rumps or Butt Cake or Damn, That’s Where My Remote Went. Playboy’s for the best of the best

And now a word from our sponsor

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Right in the Juice Box...that's gotta hurt!

This one has me more pissed off than a quadriplegic with an itchy ass. This past weekend OJ Simpson was arrested for busting into a casino hotel room to retrieve some memorabilia he said belonged to him. Not only did he demand his stuff but he did it with a four man posse of 50 some year old dudes waving guns all over the place. OJ called it a “sting operation”. Are you frickin’ kidding me? Who’s kidding who here? The last time he pulled a “sting operation” it involved practically turning his ex-wife into a frickin’ pez dispenser and he didn’t even go to prison and now you think a little armed robbery is gonna slow him down? Hell, at this point he feels so invincible I’m surprised he didn’t show up with a frickin’ bazooka and then pull his wang out and wiggle it at the cops when they showed up. And come to find out, OJ was in Vegas to be the best man in a wedding. Who the hell would ask OJ to be his best man? Michael Myers from Halloween? The founder of the Ginzu? WHO? Well guess what, OJ? Chances are, that you’ll actually be going to prison this time and now there will be a whole new reason the inmates will use the word ”Juice”. So, to help you get prepared for prison life I have the TOP 5 things you are most likely to hear from your special new friends:

#5) “Don’t think of me as a cellmate. Think of me as your offensive coordinator and the first play I’m calling is a naked bootleg.”

#4) “I love OJ in the morning so why don’t you be my minute maid?”

#3) “Juice, you’ve always had great hands so don’t fumble my balls.

#2) “Hey OJ…come over here and show Daddy your juice box”.

And the #1) phrase you will now be hearing, “Why do you keep sayin’ if it doesn’t fit you must aquit?”

Well, damn....Grandma I hate that for you.

According to sources, Paris Hilton was quoted as saying, ''You don't need a husband to have babies” and she plans on having or adopting four kids by 2008. Are you frickin’ kidding me? You’re damn right you don’t need a husband to have a baby. With all the stuff swirling around in your uterus you might just spontaneously reproduce at any minute. Kind of like the big bang theory. Well, I guess, with you, Big Bang ain’t just a theory. And apparently you’ve been telling people, “I want a brood of little mini versions of me. I'll raise them to be the most famous women in the world". Right, if by famous you mean the first kids in the world to actually get a DUI on a tricycle then I’m sure they will be. The idea of you as a parent scares me more than being partnered with George W Bush on Celebrity Jeopardy. You see, Paris, kids aren’t like sea monkeys. If you kill ‘em, you can’t just order another package from the back of a Mad Magazine. They’re also not Chihuahuas so you can’t just throw a few kibbles on the floor to shut ‘em up when they start yappin’ or blow your weed smoke in their noses just to see ‘em run circles around the rug. Well, unless you’re Britney Spears, that is. And to top it off, now I hear you want to design baby clothes. What would the name of that clothing line be? The Skanky Toddler? Babies Without Bottoms? Speaking of bottoms...let’s get to the bottom line: If my choices were A) thinking about you as a parent or B) watching a porno that starred my grandma and a donkey then I guess I’ll never look at Eeyore the same way again.

Better ease up on the twinkies, Kiera.

This one has me more bent out of shape than Britney Spears’ bellybutton ring. Keira Knightly from Pirates of the Caribbean said, “Weight is a big issue in Hollywood because I’m twice the size, height and everything else, of most of the girls who are going in to see the director for a part. I am, at my size, one of the largest actresses there.” Are you frickin’ kidding me? I’d like to give you a break because you’re cute but that statement is more lopsided than Forest Whitaker’s eye. I mean, one of the largest actresses compared to who? The only way you could be twice the size of other actresses is if they were cardboard cutouts. Damn, you’re the kind of girl that counts the calories of a communion wafer. When you’re not looking, other actors on the set hang their car keys on your hip bones. What part could you possibly try out for and be too big? The role of an ironing board.. And when you say you’re twice the size, height and “everything else”…well you know that the “everything else” part is a damned lie because when they coined the phrase, “making mountains out of molehills” they were talking about your push up bra. For God’s sake, Matthew McConaughey could get more cleavage out of that thing. Rumor has it that mosquitoes bite your chest out of sympathy. Let me tell you what is the twice the size…that piehole. Instead of saying something dumb every time you open that thing up why don’t ya try putting some food in it and that way when you tell people you have a bunch of junk in the trunk it’ll be more like a Chevy Corvette instead of a Barbie Corvette.

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Jesus wears stilletos?

Here’s another magazine interview that has me more chafed than Hillary Clinton ridin’ a 10 speed bike in polyester shorts. This past week, Britain’s Q Magazine published pop singer Avril Lavigne’s Ten Commandments and after reading them I realized that Avril Lavigne would be the perfect spokesperson for Summer’s Eve because she is a complete douche bag! I can’t cover them all so I just picked my favorite one. Avril likes to Practice Good Karma and says, “I am a very giving person. When the hurricane thing happened I went to my closet, filled six boxes of stuff and said to my assistant, "take it to Katrina!" I also like to give stuff to people who are my "workers", especially if they don't make much money." Are you frickin’ kidding me? I can’t believe the goodness coming out of you, Avril. Sometimes, when I’m praying I get you confused with Jesus. So, let me get this straight. After Katrina, thousands of volunteers walked across the dookie-filled pond that New Orleans became to save lives and you’re gonna brag that you walked across your apartment to get six boxes worth of crap out of your damn closet? Yeah, I’m sure if New Orleans rescuer workers could have asked for anything it would have been spiked belts, stiletto boots and an assload of jeans full of holes. I’m sure that made identifying hurricane survivors much easier. Just look for the ones dressed like a frickin’ skankbucket. And to top it off, you couldn’t even drop your donation off at the damn post office yourself. You told your assistant to mail it for you. I bet that was just moments after you took the mud off her eyes and healed her of blindness, right? As far as giving stuff to people who are your “workers” that don’t make much money. How about just giving them a raise, assclown? If there is a God, and I believe there is…and that God believes in Karma and I believe he does, then I prophesy that in the not too distant future that a freak hurricane will spring from your toilet bowl and you’ll get sucked down where you belong with all the other turds.

We hear ya Brad......

In his interview with V Magazine - Brad Pitt discussed his break up with Jennifer Anniston and had this to say: “Jen and I still maintain a deep friendship and have a lot of life together that isn't erased in any way.” When pressed about the way it ended, Brad whined, “I don't know how better to have handled it.”. Are you frickin’ kidding me? Yeah, I know the way I like to cultivate a deep friendship is to not only humiliate the person in the worldwide media but also to rub their nose it in it like a newspaper covered in hot, steamin’ labrador logs. The only thing “deep” about that situation, Brad, is how far you got the frickin’ shank into Jen’s back. As far as how you could have better handled it….ohhhh….I dunno….maybe you could have waited until you actually broke up with Jen before you started working Angelina over like the frickin’ KFC buffet. That might have been a good place to start. Or, maybe when you left Jen on Monday you could have waited until at least Thursday or Friday before you and Angie adopted enough kids to start a Nike factory. I think if you would just be honest, you know, come clean, then people would have a lot more respect for you. So the next time you are asked about Jennifer please use this answer I personally crafted for you: “You know, I am really sorry about all that and Jen is really nice but I got to see Angelina’s boobies! Don’t you frickin’ get it, man? And I got to put my face on ‘em and everything. Angelina’s rack is like a big pipe full of man crack and I ain’t ever goin’ to rehab.” Well, something like that oughtta get it.

Survivor: Petri Dish

This one has me more fired up than Ellen Degeneres’ vibrator. At the MTV music video awards, Kid Rock walked up and sucker punched Tommy Lee. Why? Allegedly because Rock was angered by the fact that Pamela Anderson sat in Tommy’s lap. Are you frickin’ kidding me? The only way this could have been better is if Jerry Springer had jumped out from behind a ficus tree. Both of them are Pam’s ex husbands so the fact that they’re fighting each other makes about as much sense as the time I got hammered and woke up naked in between a goat and a tub of country crock margarine. What could they possibly be fighting over? Who got gonorrhea first? Or maybe they both looked down at the same time and saw a Valtrex on the floor and started scrapping over that. If you see the three of them together you don’t need to call security, you need to call The Center for Disease Control. At this very moment, every one of their genitals is hosting its own episode of Survivor: Petri Dish and let me assure you that there are lots of contestants. My bets on Chlamydia to win but don’t count out the crabs. They are a crafty bunch. Seriously, the only way you could make this equation any more disgusting is if you added a bathroom stall and an Idaho Senator.

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Whoopi is Really, Really, Really Frickin' Dumb

This one has me more stirred up than a porn star’s uterus. Whoopi Goldberg made her debut on The View and immediately made a comment that was flakier than a box of Post Toasties. Goldberg said that “from where Michael Vick comes from” in the deep South, dogfighting isn’t that unusual. It’s like cockfighting in Puerto Rico,” Are you frickin’ kidding me? In the South dogfighting isn’t that unusual? Yeah, I just got my invitation in the mail yesterday to the Arkansas Human Society’s Annual Rip Rover’s Throat Out Event. Come on… that makes as much sense as my brother getting a snake bite on his schlong and asking me to suck out the poison. Sorry bro, but we all have to die sometime. First off, Whoopi Assberg, you are apparently as knowledgeable in geography as you are hair products because Vick is from Newport News, Virgina, which is about 2 hours from Washington DC. Newport News is to the deep south as Gwen Stephani is to Hooters. Second, I’ve lived in the real south almost my entire life and have never even heard about a dog fighting match. Unless you count Hillary Clinton Versus Janet Huckabee and that would be a hell of a bitch fight. When is the last time you actually came south, Whoopi Goldturd? Here are a few things you need to know: Dogfighting IS unusual. People here are more likely to shoot you for stealing their dog than kidnapping their spouse. Also, we have running water which, from the looks of that whisker biscuit on top of your head, you may want to check into. We also have integrated schools, contraceptives, shoes and thankfully… we have DVRs so we can fast forward past dumbass comments like yours that basically just squat down and drop a giant load of ass raisins all over the viewer’s intelligence. And what the hell does any of this have to do with cockfighting in Puerto Rico? I don’t have a joke there. I just think the phrase cockfighting is really funny. Somehow makes me think of a duel between gay men. The bottom line: You’re about as sharp as a pair of kindergarten scissors.

MDA - Massively Dysfunctional Asswipe

This weekend, I turned on the TV just in time to see a drunk Jerry Lewis hosting the Muscular Dystrophy Telethon when he started mumbling incoherently and then called someone an “illiterate faggot”. He later apologized and said that he “holds no prejudice in that regard” and he “forgets that people don’t know him that well.” Are you frickin kidding me? Don’t know you that well, Jerry? Hell, the most shocking thing about this is we didn’t even know you were still alive! And then the way you remind everyone you’re not somewhere basting in formaldehyde is to make an anti-gay slur on live TV? Way to go, Jerry. Maybe next year you can make up a few funnies about black people or throw in a joke that starts with, “So a Jew, a Mexican and a Polock walk into a bar.”
You say that this distraction from the true purpose of the telethon “pains you deeply”? Let me tell you what I’d like to see “pain you deeply”… about 3 hours of sensitivity training that involve Senator Larry Craig , a low lit bathroom stall, a gallon of KY and a Celine Dion CD. And when you wake up in the morning and see that vase of a dozen panty-roses with a card that reads,

“I guess now you can call ME the nutty professor.”, Love, Larry…p.s. I left your dentures on the back of the commode.”

Then, Jerry, then you’ll truly be able to say you were “deeply pained”.

Crikey This!

This one has me more flipped out than Charlie Sheen’s wang. One year after Steve Irwin aka The Crocodile Hunter’s shocking death in the ocean, demands are being made for his secret autopsy report to be made public. Reports claim he may have been on prescription painkillers that could have clouded his judgment when he was killed by a stingray's barb last September. Drugs? Steve Irwin? Are you frickin’ kidding me? I mean he was purposely trying to piss off 12 foot crocodiles. What do you think? OF COURSE the dude was on drugs. Have you ever watched his show? Any normal human being who was being struck at by a giant rattlesnake would want to escape worse than Britney Spears’ kids. But not Irwin. Here’s a guy who put himself in front of cobras, he put himself in the water with sharks and he put his frickin’ head in the mouths of alligators. Damn, the only thing more dangerous he could have put himself in was Paris Hilton. Crikey! Look at those blisters. That there, mate, is one scary case of herpes. I’d rather wrap my wanker in bacon and dangle it in a crawfish hole than go spelunking in that cave of doom. And, frankly, getting into the ocean with a bunch of giant sting rays is crazier than using a piranha to shave the hair around my bunghole. So, let me save you some time. Was the Crocodile Hunter on painkillers? You’re damn right. Steve Irwin was probably more loaded up than a Wendy’s baked potato when he got in that water and he had every right to be. Crazy people need their medicine.

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Liar, Liar Pants On Fire!

This one’s got me more rattled than Miss South Carolina in a Where’s Waldo tournament. After the details of his arrest come out, Idaho Senator Larry Craig not only says he shouldn’t have pled guilty but he also denies that he’s gay. Are you frickin’ kidding me? Let’s break down the name of your state. I-Da-Ho. You see, that’s an admission of guilt right there. And according to the report, the officer was in the bathroom minding his own business when you came in and started looking through the crack of the stall. Now, I think I can speak for about 90+ percent of all men when I say, if I see you eyeballin’ me through a crack in the door while I’m tryin’ to squeeze off a stink pickle, as soon as my, umm, paperwork is done, you’re gonna catch an ass whoopin’. BUT that’s not even the best part…you go onto to say that the reason you touched his foot with yours is because you use a wide stance. YOU GOTTA BE FRICKIN’ KIDDING ME! Wide stance? Well, I guess so cause you’d damn near have to be doing the splits to make that happen. Listen Senator, I’ve dropped my dirty payload in somewhere around 5,000 different stalls and if anyone needed a wide stance it would be me because my ass is so big it has its own zip code. Yet, somehow, someway, I’ve never managed to put my foot on another man while he was in the middle of breakin’ off a monkey tail. Senator, I couldn’t care less about your sexual preferences but in case you’re wondering or in denial, you’re gay. As a matter of fact, if you rub shoes with a man in the stall next to you then you’re fruitier than Elton John’s banana tree. But look on the bright side, Senator…at least from now on you’ll be able to wear your Rainbow Bright t-shirt on the senate floor.

Owen Wilson's a Bitch - Yeah, I Said It

You know what, call me an insensitive bastard if you will but when the news came out that Owen Wilson tried to commit suicide, I only had one thing to say: Are you frickin’ kidding me? I mean, come on, Owen. What are you sad about? Maybe it’s because your bedroom has accommodated so many hot chicks that it’s now a feature destination on travelocity? Maybe you’re sad that, at ten million dollars a movie, you can only afford wipe your ass with fifty dollar bills and not hundreds. And everybody knows they’re the softest! Come on, fess up, Owen? Did your momma not pack extra milk money in your lunch box when you were a little boy? Did you finally look in the mirror and realize that your nose looked like it had been broken more times than the American-Indian peace treaty? And now to top it off, rumors of rampant drug use have surfaced. And normally I might take that with a grain of salt but when frickin’ Courtney Love comes out and says she warned you about the drugs, you know you gotta problem. Hell, that’s like Rosie O’Donnell warning you about the dangers of the Baconator. Dude, we’re all pulling for you but you need to straighten up, quit being such a wussy and leave the drugs behind like Eddie Murphy’s baby.

Got Milk for your Angry Daddy?

This one has me more inflamed than that time I accidentally zipped up Captain Winky. For the past several weeks, on multiple websites, there has literally been a countdown until the teen star of Heroes, Hayden Panitierre, turned 18. Are you frickin kidding me? A countdown? Was that the countdown to when you freaks could finally yank your doodle dandy without feeling guilty? I mean, this girl is 18 years old, for God’s sake. I’ve got underwear older than her. For some reason, men are drawn to her like Senator Larry Craig to an airport bathroom. Why is this? Is it because she wears that ridiculously short cheerleader skirt that constantly reminds you that she has an ass that’s harder than penitentiary steel? She’s 18! Is it because her bikini baseballs are popping out of Mammary Park like a Grady Sizemore homer? She’s 18! And now the big news is that men are going nuts over her Got Milk commercial like it was porn. It’s a frickin’ advertisement for milk! What is the big deal about a hot, 18 year old girl with a creamy white substance all over her mouth?

Oh, for God’s sake, let me see that ad. (rustling sound of paper)

Holy Shiite! That’s frickin’ hot! No wonder guys across the country are putting out wood like a lumber mill. Hell, I would sell my own momma to the black market for just a half hour with Hayden Panties in the air or whatever her name is.

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Not a chance

According to my good friend, Tyler Durden, a rumor that Jake Gyllenhall might come out of the closet is making waves around the blogosphere.

Of course, we all know there is NO POSSIBLE WAY that dude could be gay. Want proof? Here, Here, Here, Here and I think THIS ONE speaks to his manliness more than any other.

Yep, that’s pretty definitive. It’s more likely that I will fall down, hit my head on the toilet and invent time travel after a dream about something called the flux capacitor than Jake Gyllenhall being gay. Nobody calls Marty McFly a chicken and nobody calls Jake Gyllenhall gay. Now, where’s my DeLorean….

Master of TaeKwanDo-nut

This one has me more pissed off than a straight streaker who accidentally found himself in the middle of a gay pride rally. You all remember 90’s martial arts action star, Stevel Seagal, right? Movies like Above the Law, Hard to Kill and Under Siege made him more popular than Rosie O’Donnell at a cannibals convention. But for the past few years, Segal hasn’t been able to get any of his flicks into the theater. Why is that? Well, according to a recent quote from Seagal, every since 2002 when the FBI accused him of terrorizing journalists and associating with the mafia, he can only get roles in movies that go straight to DVD. And now Seagal wants the FBI to apologize. Are you frickin kidding me? So, lemme get this straight. Russell Crowe whipped a guy’s ass using his cell phone like a pair of numb chucks and he still gets good roles. Mel Gibson gets drunk, fights cops and makes anti-semitic remarks and still gets good roles. Hell, Robert Downey Jr went to jail so many times they actually named a frickin’ cell in his honor and he still gets good roles. But you, you want the FBI to apologize because your career went down like a $3 hooker? You see, Crowe, Gibson and Downey Jr. They have something in common. They could actually ACT. Your best attribute was that you used to be lean, mean fighting machine. So, is it the FBI’s fault that you quit snorting cocaine like a black and decker shop vac and instead of hitting the gym you hit the all you can eat buffet? You went from training with Master Lee to mastering Ship-ley’s. From using the Bear Claw attack to attacking the bear claw at the Quik-E-Mart. It’s hard to kick ass when you pack on about 80 lbs, ain’t it, Oh Master of Tae Kwon Do-nut? It’s tricky to get directors excited when your fiercest move is the Flying Gutbuster, huh, Sensei Pork Rind? Is it the FBI’s fault that audiences don’t wanna see a martial arts star whose ka-ra-te suit has to be custom tailored by a tent company and whose dojo is in the back of a Western Sizzlin’? So, Sensei spare rib, quit blaming the FBI for the fact that A) you’ve swelled up like an albatross eating a rolaid and B) that your movies are so retarded they should only be played on the shortbus.

According to several credible sources, NBC is giving real consideration to backing out on the agreement they have with Conan O’Brien to take over the Tonight Show in 2009. Why would they do that? Because Jay Leno wants to stick around a few more years. Are you frickin’ kidding me? Let me get this straight NBC, on one hand you have Conan O’Brien, who is not only frickin’ hilarious but actually appeals to audiences young enough to not be spiking their coffee with Metamucil. On the other you have Jay Leno who is as relevant to today’s youth as a hairbrush is to Vin Diesel. And then, just to add insult to injury, if NBC welches on the deal, they have to pay Conan a lump sum of 40 million dollars. Yeah, keeping Jay Leno instead of Conan makes about as much sense as Global warming being caused by Norweigian Moose Farts. Come on, Jay. You’re routine is more dried up than Whoopi Goldberg’s tumbleweed. You’re writing is about as sharp as an extra long butt sausage. You gotta go. You gotta pack it up like Michael Vick’s stink tube on his second night in prison. Hey, on the bright side, maybe you and Bob Barker could get together and trade prostate stories or oatmeal recipes. I would tell ya to keep your chin up but that’d be like asking the titanic to float in my bathtub. The bottom line, Leno: Jaywalk your ass to the house.

National FRUITball League Update !

First up, this one has me more disagreeable than Mike Vick’s anus on his first night in prison. Drug users, wife beaters, thugs and criminals….that’s right, it’s kick off time for the NFL. And could anything make more sense than having American Idol’s Ryan Secrest named as the host of the NFL’s halftime shows for the Superbowl. Are you frickin’ kidding me? Ryan Secrest? So, I guess Commissioner, Roger Goodell’s answer to all the thuggery messing up pro football is to just make it completely GAY? Who’s the lineup off that halftime… George Michael, Hannah Montana and the cast of frickin’ High School Musical? What’s next? The Dallas Cowboys announcing that their new conditioning coach is Richard Simmons? Maybe every team will have to designate the tight ends with sparkly pink jerseys and they’ll be sponsored by Summer’s Eve Douche or Tampax Tampons? How about covering the goalposts in rhinestones? Come on…..Ryan frickin’ Secrest. While I appreciate your efforts to clean up football, Commissioner Goodell, I really don’t have any desire to see football become FRUITball. The NFL is supposed to be about big, mean, bad-ass men smashing each other in the mouth to get to the endzone NOT to get into each other’s erogenous zones. The bottom line…If my choices are A) watching Ryan Secrest gay up the Superbowl or B) take a field goal kick to the groin from Colts kicker, Adam Vinatieri then I guess I’m gonna need the guys in the instant replay booth on standby so when he’s done I can locate my nuts. Just pray for me that they don’t hit the uprights.

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Houdini Lohan is at it again!

My good friends at Wizbang Pop say that, according to my other good friends at TMZ, that Lindsay Lohan has made good choices with (provided massive sexual favors for) her attorneys. The word on the streets…(and again, let me remind you that I do come from the mean streets of Bryant, Arkansas. DON’T YOU LAUGH! You think minding your business walking down the street when some punk in a 69 Chevelle Supersport purposely uses his tires to jettison water on you is child’s play? Hardly, my friends. That water could have some serious germs in it. Or I might catch a cold from being wet. Or, a pebble could hit me in the ear so hard that it cuts my lobe. That’s dangerous living.) …anyway, as you laugh at my pain, the word on the streets is that the District Attorney has opted not to pursue felony charges on Lindsay for DUI or for bringing a bag of frickin’ blow into the police station. Are you frickin’ kidding me? I could bring a plastic baggie with two crosstops so old they would have to get CSI to carbon date the shit and the next thing you know I’d be in a maximum security prison being turned into Jerry Don’s personal funhouse. All misdemeanors? Awww jiminy frickin’ tickle my nads Elmo. How the hell does that work? Well, I imagine it is very similar to my prison story. Only replace me with Lindsay Lohan and Jerry Don with her attorneys, the arresting officers, the judge, the bailiff, the dispatcher, the paddywagon driver…..hell, we don’t have time to cover the whole list. Just open the Hollywood, California phone book and all the people on the white pages. That should be pretty close to accurate. Anyway….sadly, stand by for the misdemeanor news that’s sure to set the tabloids on fire soon. Hell, me taking a dump is bigger news than that. She doesn’t even have to show up in court….I think I’m going to log off now and weep for a while.

Stand still, Amy....here it comes

Here’s a shocker. Amy Winehouse, who ironically has the hit single Rehab, overdosed this past week and had this to say about it: “It was just crazy - One of the most terrifying moments of my life. I don’t know how to explain what happened. I couldn’t recognize myself. I’m fine. I’ll be back at work on Monday. I’m fine, honest.” Are you frickin’ kidding me? You don’t know how to explain what happened? Oh, well, allow me to explain. You see, that happens when you turn your nostrils into a Eureka Vacuum Cleaner and go sucking up everything in the damn house. Heroin, cocaine, laundry detergent, ajax. Hell, your husband was so full of dope, if you could’ve figured out how, I’m sure you would have tried to shove him up your nose. But it’s kinda hard to figure the logistics on something like that when you’re brain is toasted like a frickin’ Quizno’s sub, huh Amy? And one of the drugs reputed to be in your system was ketamine….a horse tranquilizer. Well jiminy frickin’ Christmas, what’s left for you to do, Amy? Maybe you could snort some mustard gas or smoke a few radioactive isotopes. I mean, damn, you’re so bad off on drugs that Snoop Dogg and Pete Doherty want you to “Just Say No”. Hell, your own LIVER signed up on E-Harmony and the profile said “trying to escape abusive relationship”. And as for your comment that you couldn’t recognize yourself. Yeah, see that happens when your drug habit causes ya drop so much weight that you make Kate Moss look like a lard ass. And apparently the drugs have affected your smile, too because it looks like you spent the better part of the last month gnawing on lug nuts. There are so many gaps in those chiclets I could drive a 78 Buick Electra through there. You’re way beyond everyday dental work. What your teeth need involves an assload of C-4 and a wrecking ball. Amy, you don’t need rehab you need a damn head transplant. Dumbass.

Brad Garrett has a big mouth

This one has me more outraged than Al Sharpton when he got his invitation to the Annual Pimps and Hos Ball. Another Brad in the news. You might remember Brad Garrett as the 6 ft 8 brother on Everybody Loves Raymond. Freak of nature, actor and now add racist to the resume. Ole Brad was being photographed by a black paparazzi and said, “I didn’t know there were black people in Malibu. Go back to where you came from.” Are you frickin’ kidding me? Did you just wake up from a two week drunk and think you were back in 1960? Because that joke is about as funny as clearing up my nagging hemmheroids with a frickin’ orbital sander. Hey man, Don Imus just called and said you were way over the line. Maybe next you could crack a line about sending him to the back of the bus or hell, why not just pull out your hood and hangin’ rope and get your lynchin’ on right there at the corner of Hollywood and Vine. Hey, Brad, it’s frickin’ 2007 and that comment fits about as well as Hillary Clinton in an extra small thong. I hope Al Sharpton attacks you like Paris Hilton on a meat popsicle and puts you through sensitivity boot camp that involves you being strapped in a chair with a pair of headphones repeatedly playing Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing while being abusively teabagged by Shaquille O’Neal and simultaneously kicked in the nuts by Gary Coleman and finally being brought to the Montel Williams show where it would be revealed to you for the first time that you’re the illegitimate love child of Wilt Chamberlain. My friend, you are nothing but a big pantload of turd slurpee.

Brad Gets Bitch Slapped - or maybe not

This one has me flappin’ my gums more than grandma that time I sold her false teeth in a yard sale. Angelina Jolie was quoted saying “I’ve never hidden my bisexuality, but since I’ve been with Brad, there’s no longer a place for that or S&M in my life”. Are you frickin’ kidding me? All of the sudden, how much does it suck to be Brad Pitt. Talk about getting duped. What, ya get married and all of the sudden whips, chains and leather thongs are tossed like a prison salad? Come on, Brad that makes about as much sense as a stripper in Pakistan. Are ya down to missionary position only on Wednesday nights after your couple’s bible study? We all know the main reason you hooked up with Angelina wasn’t for love and family. It was for the swingin’ from the ceiling, monkey sound makin’, blood vial wearin’, crazy, kinky sex… and now she pulls the rug out from under you? Admit it, there’s no way in hell you would have ever agreed to adopt 72 frickin’ kids and spend most of your time in countries where the water gives you the Flamin’ Hershey Squirts if you had planned ahead. I would have made damn sure our prenup included A) a clause REQUIRING Angelina to CONTINUE knocking mops with other hot, freaky chicks and B) a subsection mandating, that at least twice a week, Angelina dress up like a hot viking babe so she could rape and plunder my village of one. But instead, Brad, you let her go on the adoptapalooza tour and with all 132 kids at the house, I imagine your sex life now is about as exciting as a Catholic church without an alter boy. I never thought I would say this but, Brad, sucks to be you.

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Kanye is a Komplete Klown

What the F***????? Is Kanye West for real? These look like those humongous retard sunglasses I won at the cakewalk when I was five and wore everywhere I went until my dad told me that the dog ate them. When I told him we didn’t have a dog, he just looked at me and said, “Who the f*** are you? Sherlock Holmes?”

Seriously though, how the hell can you make millions upon millions and dress like that? I might expect Pee Wee Herman or frickin’ Bozo the Clown to wear that sh** but Kanye West? Dude, P Diddy would whoop your ass. You have frickin’ LOUEVERS on your face. Yeah, those would be cool if they were on a Camaro in 1980. Wait, on second thought, they sucked then, too.

At some point, he looked in the mirror and said, “Damn, I look good. I’m a regular ho magnet.” Yeah, I can’t wait until you show up with a hat made from a hubcap or an earring that's actually the metal ball you hook a frickin’ camper up to or an exhaust pipe hanging from your zipper. That always gets 'em, Kanye!

Moron.

Angry, Angry Box Office Weekend

The Angry Viewer knows these things! As I ranted about Friday, both Tranny-lovin’ Brett Ratner’s Rush Hour 3 and career killing, Cuba Gooding Jr’s Daddy Day Camp have bombed. See, RH3 may have made $50 mil but it took $140 mil to make. Can you say “no profit” boys and girls? And Daddy Day Camp? Are you frickin’ kidding me? I could put Tom Cruise, Matt Damon, George Clooney, Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt, Scarlett Johannsen, Jessica Alba and Brad Pitt in a movie but if one picture of Cuba Gooding Jr flashed in the trailer….bust. Cuba kills movies. Sorry, dude. I like you. And, at least you make a million times more than I do…or will. Now that I think about it like that, you’ll find me at home, in the bottom of my shower curled up in the fetal position screaming, “Cuba, you bastard!!!!!!!!!!!”

Come on out, Brett......it's ok

Today Rush Hour 3 comes out and there is a scene involving a transsexual. Not a big deal. At least until director, Brett Ratner, says something like this: “That scene in Rush Hour 3 came from my personal experience. My first hummer was from a man, but I didn’t know it was a man. You meet a girl in a bar, and it turns out she’s not a girl. That happens to a lot of heterosexuals.” Are you frickin’ kidding me? No, actually that only happens to complete morons who are to drunk to recognize a five o’clock shadow and an adams apple that sticks out like the kickstand on a Harley Davidson. Even drunk off your ass, wasn’t it kind of a tip off that when she sounded like Darth Vader when she said she wanted to “polish the porpoise” ? Then you go on to say, “I’m not homophobic or uptight about it.” That’s pretty obvious by the fact that you are braggin’ about it like you bagged Jessica Alba in the back of the Chevy. But Brett, that wasn’t Jessica Alba that was JEFF Alba. If my choices were A) admitting that I somehow, someway, “accidentally” got worked down by a man or B) covering my manhood in maple syrup and gettin’ it on with an ant hill, then I guess I better get a couple gallons of calamine lotion and some benadryl cause it’s gonna be a long night. So, Brett, you go ahead and tell yourself it happens to a lot of heterosexuals if that’s what helps you sleep better, but really, the only thing I imagine helps you at sleep at night is spooning close to a man in a wig.

Just put it right there.....

I’d like to start with a special message to actor Cuba Gooding Jr. who has me more pissed off than superman wearing a kryptonite condom. Hello Cuba. New movie opens this weekend, huh? I believe it’s called Daddy Day Camp, right? Are you frickin’ kidding me? Daddy Frickin’ Day Camp? First of all, this is a sequel to Daddy Day Care, an Eddie Murphy movie that had a level of enjoyment that fell somewhere between passing a kidney stone the size of J-Lo’s ass and being catheterized by a quarter inch PVC pipe. Number two, Eddie said he wasn’t coming back and if Eddie Murphy says no to a movie, you know you should reject it faster than a liver donated by John Daly. But not you, Cuba. No, my friend. You are to movies what Eddie Murphy is to an unfertilized womb. You are a movie whore. You’ve made it clear that, if a dollar is involved, you’ll show up faster than Kirstie Alley on a Whopper with Extra Cheese. I guess when you said “Show me the Money” in Jerry McGuire, you meant that Shiite. There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that if a director called you tomorrow and said, “Cuba, we’re doing a movie about a giant toilet and we want you to play the role of a freshly-baked batch of turds ahoy. The only question you would ask is “would that be with or without corn?”. Dude, you won a frickin’ Oscar for God’s sake. A FRICKIN’ OSCAR! At this point, that Oscar has about the same value as that disc I keep getting in the mail for a free 30 day trial of AOL. Cuba, If your movie goal is to make a longer string of turds than Yao Ming on an all peanut diet, then you’re a complete success. Otherwise, the next time you think about making a movie like Daddy Day Camp, I would just ask that you take that Oscar Statuette and kindly cram it up your bunghole. Then you might have some notion of how we feel when we have to sit through one of your movies. Thanks for listening.

Get "Em While They Last !

Arkansas football season is here and Hog fans want to show their support but if you’re like me you want something unique. Well, my designers at Angry Industries have created the perfect razorback collectible that will be the talk of the 07 Season. We all love Quarterback Casey Dick and, of course, Coach Houston Nutt so be one of the first to get the Limited-edition Dick-Nutt Sack. This stylish, fuzzy pouch holds a pair of balls that commemorate the 07 Blast Off. Any true Razorback fan will wanna let their Dick-Nutt Sack hang out at every game and show everyone their balls. And it even makes a perfect compliment to last year’s tribute to Robert Johnson. That’s right! Just hang your Dick-Nutt Sack right at the base of your Big Johnson Spirit Stick and you’ll have a symbol of dangling fury any Razorback fan can admire.

Sack picture via Your Nutz

Here comes the Organ Harvester!

This one has me more pissed off than Whoopi Goldberg’s new makeup artist at the View. Talk about drawing the short straw. Damn. But, back to business, it was announced that Paris Hilton has just landed a role in a movie musical about organ harvesting called Repo: The Genetic Opera. The director was quoted in Variety Magazine as saying, “I have auditioned at least 30 actresses for this role and Paris sang it better than all of them. Paris came in and owned it. She is this role." Are you frickin’ kidding me? Oh yeah, I’m sure she did beat out 30 other actresses when it came to “organ harvesting” and I would suspect the organ in question might also be referred to as a pajama python. Yeah, I saw her harvesting that very organ in the online movie she made… so he’s right. She IS that role. But the singing part….you gotta be frickin’ kidding me. If you’ve heard her CD you know that Paris is to singing what Amy Winehouse is to a healthy smile. Damn, girl. Shove a chiclet in that hole or something! But, back to Paris, I’m fairly certain that the other 30 auditions could have been Sanjaya Malakar, a few cats in heat, a frickin’ cockatoo and a recording of the sounds I make when I’m in the can breakin’ off a nappy buttstick and she still would have come in dead last. If my choices were A) watching Paris in a musical or B) spending an evening being tea bagged by Tommy Lee then I'm gonna need some soft candles, a Motley Crue CD and an EMT on standby to reset my broken nose when we're done. The bottom line: This musical is gonna suck harder than, well, Paris Hilton.

Jimmy Dean is Coming To Town

This one has me more amped up than OJ Simpson at a Ginzu Knife convention. Tired of every magazine flaunting virtually nude women, Jessica Alba thinks more magazines should feature penis. She tells Britain's GQ: Men's magazines have nipples so why don't women have a magazine where men show their penises? There's Playgirl but not a fashion magazine like Elle. "If there was a magazine like that I'd buy it. Nudity's not a big deal to me...I've said I won't go naked in any of my movies, because I don't want to. But that doesn't mean I don't want to see other people strip off!" Are you frickin’ kidding me? First of all, as hot as you are, why the hell do you need magazines to see naked dudes? That one stupid comment has probably unleashed the cracken. Now every single time you go outside, every single heterosexual guy within eyeshot of you will be bearing his rumpleforeskin for your viewing pleasure. Every time you open the door will look like the Jimmy Dean Sausage Convention has rolled up on your front lawn. Hell, I know you can’t even see people on the radio but I’m still bearing mine right now just in case. And second Jessica, oh queen of hypocrisy, the only reason you haven’t been completely naked in a movie yet has nothing to do with integrity or whether you “want to” or not. You are constantly going braless in public so everyone can witness you activating the wonder twins and after seeing you in Sin City working the stripper pole like a squirrel on a crack-filled acorn and then watching the Fantastic Four movies where you style a spandex suit so tight that even the outline of your suppository made an appearance, I am fully convinced that, as soon as enough zeros are on the end of the check, you’ll flash that chia pet like a billboard on the Vegas strip. I hope after you spend the next week or two getting up close and personal with some dude’s bagpipe on every corner that’ll you learn a lesson about dumbass comments like that.

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