Wednesday, May 3, 2017

What The Man On the Box For An Outdoor Mat Is Thinking




You little shit.

You think just because you're 3 years old and adorable, you can hog the whole shoot? Well, I hate to break it to you, kid, but this isn't a photoshoot for a "kids only outdoor mat." No sirree. We are supposed to depict a family of three together on the mat. This isn't your big break or a springboard to your own Netflix series, you little twerp.

Oh, I do see your real mommy standing by the craft service table (which I'm surprised they even have for a still shoot, impressive!) coaching you to emote and exude and act the part or whatever, but face it, kid. This is not an acting gig- we are mannequins who look the fucking part.

At least they think we look the part. You actually look a little Asian to me, so I guess Martha here and me adopted you or kidnapped you or whatever. I'm not sure about the backstory here. What I do know is that I will strangle you with this sock monkey if you ruin this for me. I sure as hell need this $75, and you turning this into "Star Search" isn't going to help me any.

"Star Search." It's a talent show from way back. Forget it.

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

An Imagined Conversation



Oh, why do I gotta be "DELIVERY?" Is it because I'm black? Because I'm some kind of gofer making deliveries for my white boss? Like I'm your fuckin' errand boy? Shiit.

Or is it because I'm like some dealer delivering drugs? Is that it? Just because I had a song called "I'm Your Pusher," now I'm automatically a drug dealer in real life? Now, if you'd actually listened to the lyrics, you'd see that I was saying I'm a pusher of DOPE RHYMES and RECORDS, not actual dope, fool:

I'm sellin' dope in each and every record store
I'm the kingpin when the wax spins
Crack or smack will take you to a sure end


Sure, it's a clumsy analogy, but so was "Lethal Weapon," where I said "my lethal weapon's my mind" and told you to go to the library to "get some more ammo."




But whatever. Back to the task at hand: I ain't your errand boy. And I ain't no drug delivery, either. I play a cop, even though I sang "Cop Killer" with that terrible rock band I had. See, you can separate my acting art from my music, see?

Body Count. That's it. That was the name of that band. Jesus.

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Twitter's Least Used Hashtags, Week of April 25, 2017


I scream, you scream, we all scream for Twitter's servers to crash permanently! Here are the latest godawful hashtags you can use in your godawful Twitter feed, ya dense goon:

#grist
#slothjerky
#Cheetochopsticks
#poppingzitsattheMet
#icanfitCheeriosonmydick
#promposingatanSTDclinic
#WolfBlitzersballsarentfurry
#browsingKalPennsIMDbpage
#bodyshamingStephenHawking
#alotofthesethingsareblatantlysexual

Monday, April 24, 2017

This Week In Hip Hop Awfulness


WE WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR FORGETTING THE UMBRELLA.


Kelly LeBrock looked gooooood in the 80s.


Beam me up, Scott La Rock.


Just hangin' out in the window of the pawn shop. What RU doing?


No, you idiot, you're supposed to take the gold foil off the Ferrero Rocher before you eat it.


The wall on somebody's headshop would like their shitty poster back.


Wait, is this a strip club or a boxing ring? Or a runway? And who hires Ray J anymore?


Who knew T-Pain had Mickey Mouse ears under that top hat all that time?