Monday, January 29, 2007
Douchebag of the Year?
It's not even February yet, but we have an early candidate for Douchebag of the Year. In fact, this guy is like Secretariat; he's way out in front of the others.

I was at my bank the other day, which is located inside a Kroger Supermarket. At first glance, the kid in front of me looked like your typical suburban white gangsta wannabe. However, upon further inspection, it became quite apparent he was taking faux thuggery to overwhelming new levels of douchebaggery.

First of all, he was a squinty-eyed weaselly little fuck. I've never met a squinty-eyed weaselly little fuck who was even remotely cool. If you're a squinty-eyed weaselly little fuck and think you are an exception to this rule, you're wrong. You are merely a squinty-eyed weaselly little fuck with a bloated opinion of yourself. I suggest leaving civilization altogether in favor of a forest or prairie.

Anyway, back to the douchebag. He was wearing a black satin jacket with GOLD HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS printed on it. All over it, as in every inch of this Rosetta Stone of tacky outerwear was covered with gold hundred dollar bills.

Sadly, the worst was yet to come. Upon eyeballing the horrid jacket, I immediately lowered my head to say a silent prayer for this once-tolerable society of ours. That's when I saw something from which I may never fully recover. On the tongues of this moron's shoes, I swear to Christ, were PICTURES OF AL PACINO AS SCARFACE!!!!!

Not able to help myself, I actually growled a little. It was all I could do to not smash his face into an unrecognizable paste. It is my fervent wish that this person die the way Scarface died at the end of the film.

Oh, but I signed up for overdraft protection and got a free toaster.

Sunday, January 28, 2007
Now, let's look at the Republican Presidential Candidates
In the spirit of "equal time", I'm now going to say horrible things about the Republicans who want to be our next President.

Michael Jesus Archangel, Michigan

No, I'm not making this up. This crazy man changed his name to Michael Jesus Archangel, and he's an announced candidate for the Republican party nomination.

Don't believe me?

Michael J.A. is quite a character. He claims Satan has tried to murder him on four separate occasions. Speaking of murder, this nutty fuck was arrested in March, 2006 for TRYING TO KILL SOMEONE. I don't look for him on any televised debates next year.

Senator Sam Brownback, Kansas

This guy is an anti-stem cell research zealot. Because obviously God wants His creations to develop Alzheimer's, remain paralyzed, and die from cancer.
You can find Sam and his trademark bag of leeches traveling across rural Kansas, handing out free bloodlettings.

Doctor Hugh Cort III, Alabama

Dr. Cort is a psychiatrist, so I guess he KNOWS he's crazy for wasting his time and money in this fashion.

John Cox, Illinois

President Cox? Next, please.

Former Governor James Gilmore III, Virginia

No one outside of Virginia knows who this putz is; his own mother moved from the state and immediately forgot about giving birth to him.

Former House Speaker Newt Gingrich, Georgia

Finally, someone I recognize! Unfortunately, it's the personification of pure evil. I guess Newt is tired of wandering around his Georgia plantation in a judicial robe made of puppy fur, so he's probably going to run for President.

Former Mayor Rudy Giuliani, New York

In a crowded field of bad toupee wearers, Rudy brings his comb-over front and center.

Former Governor Mike Huckabee, Arkansas

So now, thanks to Bill Clinton, all former Arkansas governors think they can be president; just like Monica Lewinsky can't go ANYWHERE without some lumpy older guy thinking she's going to blow him.

Senator John McCain, Arizona

A few years ago, even many liberals had a respect for John McCain. It's kind of like having a fe
w drinks with a whore, and thinking "This whore isn't like the other whores. She's different." Then you wake up in a bathtub full of ice with one less kidney. And your wallet is missing. And you have the Clap.

Former Governor George Pataki, New York

I suppose the mouth-breathers who won't vote for Obama because of his name won't be voting for this guy, either; because hey, "Pataki" sounds a lot like "Iraqi".

Former Governor W. Mitt Romney, Massachusetts

Romney is a Mormon, but there isn't any reason to insult his religion when he goes by the name "Mitt". His brothers, W. Bearded Clam Romney and W. Nappy Dugout Romney were unavailable for comment.

Congressman Tom Tancredo, Colorado

I agree that illegal immigration can be a problem, but this guy wants to end ALL IMMIGRATION into the
United States. Hmmm....if someone had kept his ancestors out of this country, we wouldn't have to deal with his bullshit.

Former Governor Tommy Thompson, Wisconsin

I have a feeling that somewhere in the deep recesses of this man's bedroom closet, hidden away in an old wooden crate, is a blood-stained clown suit.

Friday, January 26, 2007
A Superficial Guide to the Democratic Presidential Nominees
It's never too early to start talking about the 2008 Presidential Election, so I'm going to review all of the Democrats who've declared their candidacy for the office of President. If you came here looking for insightful political analysis, I pity you.

Senator Joe Biden, Delaware

Legally dead since '93. Since then, his political carreer has been a series of wacky Weekend at Bernie's style hijinks.

Retired Army General Wesley Clark

I like Wes Clark, but he has a habit of telling stupid people how stupid they are, so he's unelectable.

Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton, New York

Will the Olive Garden Nation vote for Hillary, or will she drive them into the arms of John McCain? Or worse...Jeb Bush? She drove her husband to show his junk to Paula Jones, so I'm not optimistic.

Senator Christopher Dodd, Connecticut

He looks like the guy who gets kicked out of a strip club for finger-banging the older, coked-out "dancer" who only gets day shifts.

Senator John Edwards, North Carolina

Remember 2004, and how much Edwards helped John Kerry in the South? Yeah.

Thanks for nothing, Gomer.

Former Senator Mike Gravel, Virginia

And by "former" I mean WAY FORMER. He lost his reelection bid in 1980!! Last year, he lost the Condo Council Chairman election at a retirement community in Boca Raton, Florida, so I don't think he's going to be our next President.

Congressman Dennis Kucinich, Ohio

Yes, this is the guy featured in my bad toupee post. He may be elected King of the Keebler Elves, but that's about it.

Senator Barack Obama, Illinois

As smart as Bill Clinton without the ethical baggage, he's almost too good to be true. I'm worried the Swift Boat Veterans will accuse him of war crimes.

Governor Bill Richardson, New Mexico

Hey, it's your crazy uncle, the one who let you drink Mad Dog 20/20 when you were fifteen and has a secret stash of Flemish snuff films.

Reverend Al Sharpton, New York

Is this Al Sharpton, or SNL's Tracey Morgan as Al Sharpton? Does it matter?

Former Governor Tom Vilsack

"Vilsack" sounds like a disease of the nutbag.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007
I'm going to start wearing a bad toupee

I was trying to think of a way to liven things up around here. After a lot of deliberation (drinking), I've decided to start wearing a really bad toupee, kind of like the one pictured here, but worse if that's possible.

I have a full head of hair, so I don't NEED a toupee, but I want one. I want one so obviously bogus it makes everyone who comes into contact with me instantly uncomfortable.

"Todd, are you wearing a toupee?"


"Yes you are. You're wearing a really really bad toupee."

"I have all of my hair. Why would I wear a toupee?" (This line of dialogue would go on and on).

I can't wait. I think there are still a few wig shops left downtown. I'm going to one tomorrow. Maybe I'll get a curly honkey-'fro; or perhaps an honest-to-cunt feathered mullet.

Sunday, January 21, 2007
Lohan Brings the Party to Rehab
Lindsay Lohan, who recently checked into the Wonderland Rehab Center in Los Angeles' Laurel Canyon, has used some of her undeserved millions of dollars to transform the facility into an exclusive nightclub.

The club, christened Stumblecunts in honor of Lindsay's inability to stand and walk without assistance, has been described by nightlife veterans as the "newest LA hot spot."

"We decide there was more money to be had getting people drunk than trying to get them sober," former Wonderland Center Administrator turned Stumblecunts VIP Host Virginia Stenson admitted. "Lindsay Lohan and her friends, while being vapid and kinda smelly, have brought a hip crowd with them."

Stumblecunts bartender Lisa Greene, pictured here, didn't say anything to contribute to this story, but she is hot.

When asked why she spent so much money on the project, Ms. Lohan said, "Like, I'm still gonna try and not get drunk and shit. It's just that this place was all boring and stuff." The twenty-year-old actress then did a line of coke off a stranger's erect penis, coughed, and defecated in her pants.

Friday, January 19, 2007
A message to predators

ATTENTION: If you are a middle-aged man talking dirty to a fifteen-year-old girl on the internet, you aren't really talking to a fifteen-year-old girl, dumbfuck. You're talking to Dateline NBC. Don't you watch television?!

Here's what's going to happen, Mr. Pervy Pants: You're going to appear on a chat room as CherryBuster66. You'll strike up a conversation with Schoolgirlfantasyvirgin15. You'll ask her if she wants to be deflowered by an old pro. She'll answer in the affirmative. You'll arrange to meet her at her house. You'll show up at her address with a gross of condoms, a riding crop, and a bucket of lard. Dateline NBC's Chris Hansen will be there instead. Mr. Hansen will be disarmingly calm and talk down to you. You'll leave, and twenty heavily-armed cops will arrest you. You'll claim you were there for the witty banter only possible through conversation with a fifteen-year-old girl. In post-production, Mr. Hansen will mock your denials. The North American viewing public will laugh at your porno moustache and the gravy stain on your t-shirt.

Inappropriate lust must be a powerful thing, because these guys think young girls actually want to have sex with them. Right or wrong, half of all American girls have sex by the time they're fifteen, but not with old men they meet online. They have sex with slightly older teens who get them drunk on wine coolers. That's the way it should be, by god. These palsycocked perverts are trying to ruin the natural order of things. When they're in prison, getting anally invaded in the laundry room, they'll wish they had just watched youtube.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007
The Feel-Good Album of Winter '07

When you really want to get bodies moving at your party, you need to reach for Freddie Gage's dancefloor classic, All My Friends Are Dead.

You can't go to a nightclub in the "party quad" of New York, Miami, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles without hearing at least one cut off of this album. This one really gets the hotties to shake their asses.

A friend of a friend was the head bartender at Studio 54, and I had the pleasure of meeting Freddie "Gravesite" Gage when he hosted a party there last March.

As I stood in line to greet the master of frolicking good-time music, I was touched by his willingness to interact with his fans.

Female clubgoer: "Nice to meet you, Freddie. I'm a huge fan."

Freddie: "If you don't stop binge drinking, snorting cocaine, and having unprotected casual sex, you won't live to see forty."

Female clubgoer: "Cool. Here's a sharpie; will you write that across my tits?"

If you live in North America, look for Freddie G in a city near you! Starting this May, his "Requiem for the Club Kids" tour will hit forty towns in fifty days. He'll probably try to kill himself mid-tour (he almost succeeded last July in Oakland), so see him early-on if you can.

Monday, January 15, 2007
Why I like Cumberland Brews
Cumberland Brews is a small Microbrewery and Restaurant in the Highlands neighborhood of Louisville. I watched the Seahawks-Bears game there on Sunday. They have good food and the best craft beers on earth. Every Sunday, all day, a pint of liquid heaven is only $2.75.

But I think I like Cumberland Brews more for what it's NOT.

And what isn't it, you might ask? It isn't a place where people conspire to drive me to fits of uncontrollable rage. That makes it my ale oasis in a desert of douchebags.

True, some of the clientele, it has to be said, are damn dirty hippies. The DDH love them some craft beer. But they keep to themselves, and the smell of the delicious food and hops drowns out the stench of patchouli.

Actually, there are other places like that in Louisville, locales where people of all social persuasions are brought together for a common goal; usually to eat or drink or listen to good music. But in today's society, that's a rarity. There are some places I don't think I can go anymore, at all, for fear of killing everyone in the room, grinding their bones into a fine powder, and snorting them like Scarface on a three-day coke bender.

Okay, you spoiled little fuck, I know your daddy has a TV almost as big as a theatre screen, but you aren't in the family room, so shut your diseased mouth, get off the cell phone, and quit finger-banging Mary Kate Rottencrotch during the Coming Attractions.

And if you're too stupid to follow the plot of a Hollywood movie, you are retarded and don't need to be out past sunset. "What'd he do that for?" "Who is she?" "What just happened?" You have smegma for brains! Do the world a favor and sequester yourself in a room filled with shiny objects and coloring books.

Why do people pay for a ticket to see a band and then talk to their friends the entire night? Is it because they're hipster assholes who care more about being seen than they do about music? Yes. That is the reason.

Nightclubs only exist because that's where attractive young ladies go. That's the only reason any male would voluntarily subject himself to shitty music and watered down drinks. Nightclub drinks in Las Vegas were so expensive, and the music so absolutely cringe-worthy, it was like being in a strip club sans nudity.

And who needs a room full of snooty club whores? The older I get the more wholeheartedly I endorse a quality over quantity policy when it comes to members of the opposite sex.

I also don't enjoy shopping, going to work, going to the bank, or driving (unless the streets are completely empty of all other cars). I'll be busy building an underground tunnel to Cumberland Brews if anyone wants to lend a hand.

Friday, January 12, 2007
My own Congressman?
I was telling a friend that if I gained any more weight I would require my own Congressman. But as I thought about it, it occurred to me that having my own Congressman would be quite advantageous. Imagine, a politician whose political future depended solely on MY vote:

"Hey, Congressman; I need a private monorail from my house to my favorite bar. You don't want your only constituent in prison on DUI, do you?"

"Hey, Congressman; I need a really friendly 'date' for Valentine's Day. You're a politician, so I know you got the hook up."

A few more pounds, and I could be the most powerful private citizen in America. Pass the deep dish pizza, motherfucker!

Wednesday, January 10, 2007
American Idol: Once More, With Hatred

Holy Christ on a cracker, I hate American Idol. Most TV is crap, but Idol is the only show that bothers me, the only one that makes me want to become Amish. Yes, I think I'd rather churn butter, raise barns, and look at women in shapeless black dresses than deal with the horrid social fallout from this televised homage to stupidity.

You see, I don't watch American Idol, but I still can't escape it. I don't watch Desperate Housewives either, but it doesn't follow me around everywhere I go. The stars of Housewives don't release tone-deaf vapid pop swill albums that are played over and over until I want to set off firecrackers in my ears to get Clay Aiken's voice out of my head. I know who Clay Aiken is, and it's their fault!!! I shouldn't know anything about Clay Aiken. No one should, except his immediate family and the gimp on the other side of the glory hole.

I hereby declare American Idol the second hand smoke of television. It affects the health of innocent people. I can't go to the grocery without hearing a quasi-talented Idol prodigy belt out their latest "hit". I was watching the Orange Bowl only to see that prematurely gray pussyfart Taylor Hicks warble his way through the halftime show. And to top it all off, the FINAL STRAW, if you will...Carrie Underwood's energy-draining pussy ruined the quarterback of the Dallas Cowboys! Tony Romo was doing just fine until he got a little of Carrie's cursed 'giner. As soon as he got some of that on him, he started throwing interceptions, fumbling, and playing like someone thinking about poon instead of football. I blame American Idol for fucking up the season of my favorite football team. I don't blame Romo; Carrie Underwood is hot. If Bill Gates had gotten a piece of ass like that when he was young, I'd be chiseling this post onto a stone tablet.

What's next? I predict in the summer of 2008, Kelly Clarkson will have a torrid affair with the Democratic Presidential candidate, assuring an easy victory for the Republicans. It would be par for the course.

Monday, January 08, 2007
This is the girl from 7th Heaven?
Who knew Jessica Biel had such a fine booootay? Look at it! Odd that she got her start on a vaguely religious show, because I now worship her ass.

I once saw an outtakes tape from 7th Heaven. One of the scenes went something like this:

Minister Dad: "...and remember that Jesus said 'Blessed is he who'...I'm sorry, I can't concentrate."

Director: "CUT!! What's wrong?"

Minister Dad: "Hey, I'm trying to lecture my son about the teachings of Christ, and Jessica is off-camera bending over. I can't quit looking at her moneymaker."

Director: "Oh, come on now."

Minister Dad: "I'm serious. You try to be pious with that sweet young rump in your periphery. I'll be honest, man; she's over eighteen. I'd hit that."

Director: "Can we just finish this scene...TODAY?"

Minister Dad: "Yeah, but have her sitting with her arms folded. Or better yet, don't have her in the room at all. Damn, look at that turd-cutter."

Hey, who can blame the guy? He wasn't really a minister (or he probably would have been interested in young boys, but that's another post).

Sunday, January 07, 2007
Wow, what a complete and utter whore

This is Bobby Petrino. Until today, he was the football coach for the University of Louisville.

You see, even though he just signed a ten year contract with Louisville and swore "this is the right place for me and my family", the Atlanta Falcons offered him a dollar more; so he used that contract, and his word, to wipe his lying ass.

I knew the conniving fuck would eventually bolt, but I thought he'd at least wait for a good job. Atlanta has been widely described as "The worst pro sports town in America" for its complete lack of interest in the area's teams. When he fails miserably, which in Atlanta is virtually guaranteed, I won't be able to suppress a hardy guffaw. Oh, and I pray to God that he and his family, for whom Louisville was so perfect, contract the ebola virus.

Of course, now the University of Louisville's athletic director is going to steal away the up-and-coming coach of a smaller school. The new coach will either fail, in which case he'll be unceremoniously fired; or he'll succeed and a pro team or bigger college will take him from us. That's the way it goes.

Still, it doesn't make Bobby Petrino any less of a lying cunt.

Friday, January 05, 2007
I guess blood money spends like regular money...

If you are a fan of unimaginable tackiness, this is your Holy Grail. It's the World Trade Center Commemorative Coin. Yes, it is. I'm not lying.
At last, the lowest point in modern American history is reduced to a shitty keepsake, destined to be kept in a junk drawer with rubber bands and expired Red Lobster coupons.

"Look, Earl; the Twin Towers stand up. Let's buy two of 'em. Then we'll eat at Olive Garden and watch American Idol."

Well, at least those three thousand-plus people didn't perish in vain. The National Collector's Mint Company gets to make a tidy profit from their horrible deaths. Whenever I think this society can't possibly sink any lower, I see something like this. Holy mother of cunt, this is terrible!

If you have a strong stomach, go to the website and watch the TV commercial.

I'm willing to bet if you hold this wretched coin to your ear you can hear the anguished cries of the victims of 9/11, like some bastardized sea shell. God damn the people who profit from it.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Big changes in the cero siete
I'm going to do a little more than just list my resolutions here. I'm going to explain how I plan to stick to said resolutions.

Lose weight
I have a hard time sticking to a diet because the weight comes off very easily at first, but then I'll hit a plateau and that's the end of it. What I need to do is find a weight loss program that takes off the pounds in record time. That's where the effective albeit controversial Heroin and Corn Diet Plan comes in.

The diet is quite simple. You eliminate all foods except corn, and you develop a raging heroin addiction. Have you ever seen a fat heroin addict? No, you haven't. The best part of this diet is it's adaptability. As the heroin makes your teeth fall out, you can easily switch from corn on the cob to frozen corn to putting a can of creamed corn in a blender and sucking it through a straw. With the help of the Heroin and Corn Diet Plan, my goal is to weigh one-fiddy by mid-March.

Make more money
I'm beginning to doubt the nobility of abject poverty, so making some grown-up money is going to be a priority this year. Will I achieve my financial goals through hard work and/or education? Of course not! Duh. Shame on you for even thinking that. I'm going for the GET RICH QUICK SCHEME. Now, bear with me here... I think pubic hair is going to make a major comeback in '07. By July or August every young woman in America will be sporting full bush, baby; and they'll want to keep the 'hair down there' as soft, shiny, and clean-smelling as possible. That's where my new invention, Shampubes, the Shampoo for Pubic Hair, comes in. Look for the smiling face of whichever chick from Real World: Denver accepts the least amount of money on every bottle.

Get lotsa sexin' up
Since I'll be thin and rich, the next stop on the Todd Express is Pussyville. I plan on getting a plethora of poon by lying. Let me practice some of these lies.

"I'd love to hear your detailed recap of last season's American Idol."

"No, you're much prettier than (insert name of much prettier girl)."

"Alright! A John Mayer CD."

"Every time two chicks make out in front of me, I donate a thousand dollars to the Salvation Army."

"You are so funny."

"It's not contagious, baby."

"You are the smartest stripper I've ever met."

Become a better blogger
Well, maybe not. If I'm rich and bangin' broads two at a time, the last thing I'll want to do is blog.

In other words, look for plenty of blogging from me in 2007.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Animosity As Big As Your Head

I ate and drank way too much on New Year's Eve. From five-thirty in the afternoon until four in the morning, I consumed the following:

-One snifter of Old Pogue Bourbon
-Caesar salad
-Half a bottle of red wine
-22-oz. bone-in ribeye steak, cooked medium rare
-Mashed potatoes
-Homemade peach ice cream
-Three large bourbons and coke
-Rock Hill Farms small batch bourbon on the rocks
-Shot of Cabo Wabo anejo tequila
-More bourbon and coke

After all of that adult refreshment, the only thing that would save my life was a LaBamba burrito. Labamba's is always a popular place on the weekends, so you can imagine the crowd on New Year's Eve. I didn't think much about the two people who walked into the restaurant ahead of my friend Alisha and me; until they started some shit with some people waiting to order.

These two clean-cut youngish guys were standing with an older man who looked like Edgar Winter. One of the young guys was pointing, because that's what people occasionally do when they talk. Sadly, this was a foreign concept to the drunk douche in front of us.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU POINTING AT, MOTHERFUCKER?" this wannabe asshole, sporting a punk rockish twist on the My Name is Earl haircut, screamed.

Mistake. Old man Winter went NUTS.


This loud witless banter went on for a while. My favorite part was when one of the preppie guys said to the denim-jacket-wearing troll who wanted to fight, "Hey, believe me, you don't want this. I'm trying to be a mediator here." I think the old man had killed before, and this kid, probably his nephew, didn't want to witness the slaughter of two drunks at a LaBamba's on the first early morning of 2007.

I think the punk-ass fucks saw the craziness in the old man's eyes, because they totally backed down. "Hey, we're just here for burritos, dude."

The entire time, while customers were screaming obscenities and threatening one another, the LaBamba staff acted like nothing was happening. These are a group of efficient, non-English speaking burrito makin' motherfuckers. The LaBamba's in Louisville is open for 11am till 5am, and I'm pretty sure it's one shift; the openers are the closers.

Well, we placed our orders and everything was going well until I heard "YOU'D BETTER GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! GET THE FUCK OUT!!!"

Those guys had managed, on their way out the door, burritos in hand, to piss off an entirely different group of people. It was a New Year's miracle! A guy wearing a Skyline Chili uniform chased them out into the parking lot. They ran away like drunken Frenchmen.

Next year I'm going someplace nice and quiet, like Times Square.