Happy Valentines Day from Eat A Dick Joel

We at EADJ would like to wish you a happy, safe, uninfected Valentines Day. Get your freak on. Make love to your old man (or lady). And rest in the assurance that you have a whole year before you have to buy stupid flowers and teddy bears just so they don't get mad at you.

The Answers To A Quiz You Took in 2nd Grade

Sorry it took so long, but here are the answers to a math quiz you took in 2nd Grade. Your teacher Ms. Yancey apologizes. You must get your graded quizzes signed by one of your parents by Tuesday.

1. 5

2. 12

3. 8 or 9

4. Ω

5. fourteenth

6. Richard Pryor

7. √44

8. -2

9. "Faith" by George Michael

10. .00000000000000000000000000000003

On the Freeway

And Now, Vince's Uncle Roberto with How To Carve a Pumpkin

After emptying a pumpkin of all seeds or pulp, draw a pattern for the face on a clean pumpkin with a felt-tip pen, or scribe the lines into the skin using a pencil. Be sure to make the eyes, nose and mouth large enough; you'll have a hard time cutting out tiny features when you're using a big knife blade to saw through tough skin. Follow your pattern as you cut all the way through the pumpkin. Push the cut-out features gently from the inside of the pumpkin and discard the pieces. Place a votive candle inside the pumpkin to create an eerie glow.

And speaking of eerie glows, a guy in Johnsonville, TN tried to get me to install some glowing neon lights on the underside of my town car. I told him, "I'm running a limo service here, not a f***ing carnival!" That shut him up good.

Some Totally Unfair Criticism

Okay, I have seen some shit art before, but this might possibly be the blandest, most appalling turd of vanilla-beige cock that my eyes have been unfortunate to be molested by. Still-lifes are boring already, but what's this? A tray carrying a bowl of potpourri and some goddamned bottles of dried flower petals? What kind of fluffy-cloud, Holly Hobby, "I Love Country" dystopian prison camp is this supposed to be from? Rape me.


So you've got some shittily painted petals (not detailed enough to be realistic and not abstract enough to be Impressionistic) sitting in a poorly proportioned bowl that's covered in more smudgily painted petals. That's both meta and piss-poor! Also, it's labeled "POTPOUTTI," either because the painter cannot spell "potpourri" correctly or never learned their lower case r's. Either way, it makes a travesty of both public education and the state of art. What an abortion.


I could further rag on "Garuboa" or "Hamlox" or whatever the piss this person's name is, and how howlingly hilarious I find that they'd think someone would want to copy this artwork illegally, but I can think of more pleasant things to do, like chugging a punchbowl full of diarrhea or watching "Grey's Anatomy."

The EADJ Crappinema Presents: Stunts

Stunts wasn't the worst movie in the world. But it did suck enough to be sort of enjoyable on a masochistic level. They managed to actually touch on themes like euthanasia, the working class, the importance of teamwork, and the unspoken bond between stuntmen. We can all learn from the stuntmen.









The following is verbatim dialogue for this scene:

Stuntman 1: (toasting with bottle of booze) To tomorrow.

Stuntman2: What's so special about tomorrow?

Stuntman 1: Nuthin', I hope. No bruises, no broken bones, no nuthin'.

Forster: If we keep making the stunts tougher, we're going to get hurt.

Stuntguy 2: Yeah. You guys heard what happened to Bobby Rogers, right? Car well run over him in a gag. So he's laying up in a hospital, he never gonna be able to talk. He's never gonna be able to walk. He's a vegetable!


Stuntman 1: In that condition, I'd just as soon push right on through to the other side.

Robert Forster: Living like that's like living dead.

Stuntman 2: Worse! You might wake up!

Stuntchick: And even worse, Bobby doesn't even have a choice.

Stuntman 2: Why don't we make a deal, man, alright? If one of us takes it in the shorts, the others pull the plug.

Robert Forster: I'm in.

Stuntman 1: Let's all agree, all along.

Stuntchick: I'm in, too.

Stuntman 1: (fumbling in his pockets) Where's my mother's rosary?

END SCENE, COMMERCIAL BREAK FOR THAT SHAMPOO THAT MAKES YOU CUM.















An accidental hit on the DVD Menu takes you to a list of their other fine DVD offerings. With no way to exit.


Hmm. Cocaine Cowboys, Carnival Story, uh huh. Not interested.


Okay, Cock Fighter with Cell Block Girls. Nice try, but no. When is this over?


Yeah, I don't want to see any of these. Hitting MENU does nothing.


Neither does fast forwarding.


Jesus. This is getting ridiculous.


...


Fucking hell. Here's pretty much when I hit EJECT.