These two young brothers, Benjamin Arthur Jones and Alexander Williams Jones, have crossed the line between regular old villainy, and cartoonish super villainy. My daddy always taught me that if you’re going to do something, do it right, especially if it’s something you shouldn’t be doing. Further more, as I always say, you only live once, make it epic. Go big or go home.

Coverts Crossing Bridge

Not just any bridge, but the historic Coverts Crossing Bridge in Hazard Country, Lawrence County, Pennsylvania. Bo Benjamin looks at his brother Luke Alexander and says: “You see that bridge? We should fucking steal it.”

Alex looks at him, and pulls out his wallet, says: “You see this wallet? It contains all the fucks I give right now.” The wallet was empty, and they stole a fucking bridge, a fucking bridge.

Let me give that a moment to sink in. You know how you have to have a truck to transport a modern Barbecue grill? They stole a fucking 20 foot by 50 foot bridge. That’s only one notch below stealing the Statue of Liberty and selling it to Putin for a lawn ornament. That’s like walking out the Musée du Louvre with the Mona Lisa in your trench coat, except it’s 20′ x 50′ so you have to use a semi.

Now of course they got caught. (Which violates one of the first rules of being a super-villain.) It turns out that the recycling center gets suspicious when you show up with A FUCKING BRIDGE. But can you imagine what it’s going to be like for these boys in prison? “What you in for?” “Me, oh, I stole a TV.” “A TV huh? Oh, that’s cute, I stole a bridge.”

All I’m saying, the bar has been raised. Until Carmen Sandiego lists The Gateway Arch on Ebay, these guys get to wear the Bad Mother Fucker wallet.

Unless you’ve been living under a very well insulated rock, or you’re reading recovered text from the best website ever created following the collapse of modern society in the distant future, you’ve probably heard something about Anthony Weiner and his sexting. In case you happen to fit one of those two scenarios, let me break it down for you, Anthony Weiner has been showing his junk to girls on twitter, which would be fine, except that A) he’s married, and b) he’s a congressman.

There are three very important points that have to be taken into consideration about this story. A) He’s showing girls his weenier, and his name is Weiner, that shit just writes itself. B) His wife’s name is Huma, although when they got married, she had enough sense to not take his last name and become Huma Weiner. (She kept her maiden name, which I choose to believe is Johnson.) C) The media keeps calling this “Weinergate.” Personally, I’m not opposed to calling political scandals whatever-gate, I just think that mass media missed an awesome opportunity to call the whole Bristol Palin baby scandal “babygate.” Personally, I feel like Weinergate is a horrible name for a scandal because it reminds me of a badly done porno parody based on Stargate SG-1, or perhaps the German word for a gloryhole.

That’s all neither here nor there. Here’s the skinny. Dudes, it doesn’t matter how rich and/or famous your are; women do not want to see your stuff. Sure, you’ve got stuff, I’ve got stuff, I’m sure you’re very proud of it, I know I am, but you have to understand a little something about the way that a female brain works. You know how you like to see titties? Yea, good times right? The strange thing is, it doesn’t work that way for women, they don’t want to see your shit, ever. If you are rich and famous and can get women to sleep with you, then drive across town and fuck them, and go home. Don’t sent photos of your manhood to anyone, because it’s going to end up on the internet, you’re going to look like a tool, a perverted tool who hangs around Denny’s late at night in a trench-coat and shows his pecker off to young ladies.

Don’t get me wrong. The internet is fucking magic. Electrons go in one end, it goes down a series of tubes, and fucking LOLs come out the other. It’s magic, but that level of magic does not change one never ending fact, women are not like men, they don’t want to see your wang. The only way people want to see your tube-steak would be if it was in fact so mutated that it was a true medical curiosity. No amount of magic can fix that, women are more attracted to the idea of what you got, than what you actually got, and when they see your shame, it is only going to hurt your chances of actually getting some tail out of the deal. Unless you happen to be texting your doctor about that rash and those bumps that keep flaring back up, never send photos of your love-gun to anyone.

So there you have it. Guys, and that includes you Brett Farve, keep your wedding tackle away from ladies twitters if you want to get it near their critters. Failing that, just keep it discrete; do what everyone else does when they have an irresistible urge to show of their twig and berries, fire up Chatroulette.

My youngest child had a recent case of the sick. For those of you who do not work in healthcare, it works like this: If you treat a cold, it last about seven days, if you don’t treat a cold, it last about a week. Knowing this, I took my daughter to the doctor, knowing it wouldn’t do any good, wanting a note saying my kid was good to go back to daycare.

Long story short, and $400 later, (with good insurance,) I’m at Walgreens waiting in line to drop off a prescription. Low and behold, I see this little blue bottle on the shelf. It reads “Walgreens Nerve Pain Relief.” I immediately, thought, “Wow, nerve pain, I didn’t know that Neurontin was now over the counter.”

NervePainReliefCarton

Walgreens Nerve Pain Relief

Now someone else might have just let this go, but not me. I am an upstanding representative of the consumer, I stand up for the little guy. So I did what any reasonable person would have done in a similar situation. In protest, I immediately dropped trow and took a shit on their floor, right there, in isle #10.

Of course, I had to come back about three hours later and pick up my daughter’s prescription, which made things awkward, but the moral of the story, fuck you Walgreens, with your snake oil cures. We expect that kind of shit from people like Whole Foods, but coming from the largest chain pharmacy in America, that’s just shameful.

Please eat a giant brick of shit with lumps of corn and die, sincerely, DrakeGTA.

Anyway, I’ve noticed a disturbing and growing trend in music videos; pausing in the middle of the song to tell a story. Its one thing to have an intro, or even an outro to a music video, and that needs to be small and tasteful, like five seconds or less (Only songs deserve true intros, and then, only epic songs, like “The Final Countdown” by Europe), but if your music video has to pause in the middle of a freaking song, you not only fail at telling a story, you fail at life.

Listen to me, if you want to write a short story, write a goddamned short story, people love short stories, that’s why there is no market for them. If you want to make a short film, do it, and put it on Youtube, where it will be buried beneath Fred videos and Lego Starwars films. If you want to direct a music video, direct the video, no interruptions, no pauses, no breaks, its not acceptable, no exceptions. If you stop your video in the middle of a song, it better be to fucking cure cancer, and then when you’re done, you edit that part out. Not only is interrupting a video a sure sign that you’re horrible at writing, directing, producing, or whatever the hell you pretend to do for a living, its a violation of all the values that we, as human beings, hold dear.

I’m talking about social responsibility here, its one thing to dump toxic-waste in the oceans or poison the local water supply, but when you screw-up our music videos, you’ve crossed the line. Let me make this clear, when your music video stops in the middle, you deserve to be shot, you and anyone who signed off on the project, and the programmers who allow it to be shown. Forget Frankenstein’s monster, partial birth abortions, and sheep cloning, this is the true definition of abomination.

I understand this is a mute point for most of you, but for you violators, let me put it this way. If you’re thinking about putting an interruption in your music video, consider your options, and if you can’t find a way to make it work without the pause, kill yourself instead, it is the responsible thing to do.

Bloody amateurs! Vengeance is best served cold. If I were giving advice to that Indonesian boy, I would have told him to do this…

1. Run away from home.
2. Move to Jakarta.
3. Get a job as an understudy at an aquarium.
4. Train a dolphin to attack on command (and not just when it wants to.)
5. Bust the dolphin out.
6. Ride the dolphin back home.
7. Just to show no hard feelings, invite your girlfriend and her soon to be hubby for a swim.
8. Give the command.
9. The dolphin attacks and rips your penis off, no wait, that didn’t work either, shit.

all the single ladies

So here’s the story, a kid goes to school with a cheese sandwich, the happy toddler starts to unwrap his delicious, two servings of dairy in each slice, meal, when the lunch police spot the contraband item, and take it away stating that it wasn’t “healthy enough.” What? Cheese not healthy enough? Maybe I’ve been listening to too much of that big dairy propaganda, but I thought cheese was rich in calcium, improved bone health, and something about antioxidants or freeing your radicals; and you know what, that’s not the point.

All I’m saying, when I went to school, I was lucky to have a cheese sandwich, normally I got a glass of red flavored kool-aid and a note from my mom saying that if I wasn’t such a little shit, she might love me enough to make me lunch. You know what, I made do with what I had, I would steal ketchup packets, put ketchup on my note, and eat it, while softly sobbing to myself alone in the corner.

You know what, if it was good enough for me, it’s good enough for my kids. I dare the school to step in and tell me that my kid’s lunch isn’t healthy enough, that the green spots on the bread mean it’s too old. You know what, you said you wanted green leafy vegetables, I gave you green spots, that’s like freakin’ penicillin or something.

All I’m saying if you don’t fight for your rights, you’ll loose them. Today, it’s a cheese sandwich, tomorrow they’ll have your kids eating locally grown organic tofu squares and pledging allegiance to a photo of Che Guevara. I’m so inspired that I wrote this poem…

“THEY CAME FIRST for the cheese sandwich,
and I didn’t speak up because I’m lactose intolerant.

THEN THEY CAME for the fries,
and I didn’t speak up because my doctor told me my triglyceride levels were higher than Amy Winehouse when she “fall down go boom.”

THEN THEY CAME for the white bread,
and I didn’t speak up because I really need to increase my fiber intake, I have a family history of colon cancer.

THEN THEY CAME for the red meat,
and by that time no one was left to speak up, because the whole nation had turned into granola eating yuppies.

THEN THEY FORCED us all into Obama’s socialist deathcamps where we all were all forced to have abortions and while reciting the Koran, and we all realized that Palin was right, and that somehow made it worse.”

For those of you unfamiliar, an Inflatable Sumo Suit Competition works like this. A bunch of college kids get drunk (I’m just guessing about that part, but I know I would) and then strap on giant flesh colored inflatable suits, and proceed to push each other out of the ring in true sumo wrestler fashion. Think about it, what objection could anyone possibly have to this? Is it not just an awesomely stupid way to waste a day and make some money for a foodbank? This plan is so simple, nothing can possibly go wrong.

Unless of course, you’re a pussy. See, these canucks from Queens University (who’s apparently hosting the Inflatable Sumo Suit Competition) received a series of complaints stating that an Inflatable Sumo Suit Competition is both insulting to Japanese culture, and “oppressive.” Well, being the strong willed lumberjacks that they are, our Canadian friends folded like a smart car in a pile up, offered an apology, and canceled the competition.

WHAT THE FUCK?! Insulting to Japanese culture? Really? Which aspect of Japanese culture are we offending here? The tentacle porn or the vampires that suck shit from your asshole while you sleep? (I wish I was making that up.) Really, which group of highly cultured Japanese denizens are we offending?

Normal Day In Japan

This is a hungry ghost, or an angry shit eating monkey, one of the two.

This is the reason that the Axis lost the war.

I didn't mean to rape you, I have magnetic junk.

You know what, fuck that. Aren’t Canadians supposed to be made of steal and ice or some shit? I’m pretty sure that the dude in Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song was a Canadian, and he climbed a mountain and raped a Valkyrie, a real Valkyrie too, none of those sissy Tom Cruise Valkyries. I don’t know much about Canadian history, but I can only assume that Canada was populated by lumberjacks who were living in England and France, and they looked around and said, “Fuck this sissy shit, I want to go live someplace completely inhospitable to Human life. ” You bastards are a shame to your Canadian heritage, you’re supposed to eat maple leaves and shit out hockey pucks, but here you are worried about cultural sensitivities.

Japan does not get to have cultural sensitivities. You know why? Because they lost the bloody second world war, that’s why. If they don’t like it, we can launch a couple ICBMs and remind them why they lost.

You think you’re offended? I’m Irish, how fucking offended do you think I am? I mean seriously, look at this shit…

They dance the gay away

Talk about a misrepresentation of a culture. We’re talking about a brand of bloody bravehearts, and they could take their lives, but never take their freedom; not a bunch of faggy ass queens line dancing in tap shoes. I don’t even know what a river dance is, but I know it didn’t come from Ireland because A) everyone is sober, B) no one is kicking anyone else’s ass, and C) the IRA doesn’t bomb the shit out of that British tosser in the front.

You know what else offends me… This shit…

Celtic Whore

What the fuck is this? Did you guys even look up Celtic culture? You realize that the Celts were a band of badass fucking axe wielding warriors that gave birth to the vikings, the Visigoths, the Vandals, and probably The Dead Kennedys too. I don’t know about much Celtic women, but I know they didn’t put on long flowing dresses, play the violin, and sing Ave Maria. Hell no, Cletic women looked more like this…

I'd fuck Gabrielle any day, no questions asked.

and they used to sing songs written by the great Irish poet and playwright Whitey Ford.

A gentleman and a scholar

Intrigued, Douchy Douchebaggerton, Investigative reporter for ABCs news, has launched a full scale investigation. Here are just a few of the facts he has uncovered… (and original video)

1. Juggalos are gang members.
2. Juggalos murder ALL the time.
3. The purpose of the Juggalo is to flip out and kill people.
4. Most ghost towns are not really ghost towns, just places where Juggalos killed everyone.
5. Juggalos can’t play guitar, but they can play “Flight of the Bumblebee” on your severed esophagus.
6. Juggalos did 9/11 (In cooperation with the Jews. [We call them Jewagglos.])
7. Deuce Bigalow was not a Juggalo, he was a man-whore.
8. Pol Pot was most likely a Juggalo.
9. As was Genghis Khan.
10. King Kong was a monkey, not a Juggalo.
11. Khan Noonien Singh may have been a Juggalo
12. John de Lancie is the ringmaster.
13. Dark Carnival is probably not a cruise line.
14. All ICP/Twizid/ABK videos are real life snuff tapes filmed live before a Juggalo audiance.
15. A Juggalo will kill you, eat your corpse, and rape you, in that order.
16. Necro is still a little bitch.
17. Gothapotamus is a Juggalette, maybe.

Well Veggy, you don’t mind if I call you Veggy do you? It’s a lifestyle choice, the key word being “choice.” If you wanted to walk around town wearing tube socks below flip-flops, people would look at you funny; and you would have to decided, which is more important, what other people think, or how you want to dress. I too have dealt with unfavorable reactions towards my lifestyle choices, for example, I like to show up at work buzzed, and be drunk by eight am, and I drive an ice cream truck; but that’s my lifestyle choice, so I don’t complain, and I carry a baseball bat behind the ice cream machine, so other people don’t complain either. People treat you differently, because, get this, you act differently. If you can’t handle the ridicule, eat meat like a normal person. Man up or go home; but either way, don’t bitch about the way people treat you when you don’t conform to their expectations.

People used to give Mahatma Gandhi shit about being a vegetarian, but no one ever gave Hitler any shit about being a vegetarian, you know why? Because of the mustache.

As for something witty to say, how about: “Fuck your complete proteins, I ain’t scared of no Kwashiorkor.”

I know what you’re thinking. All that for a book? No, don’t get confused. When you see the word book you probably think of Twilight and Harry Potter, don’t. In fact, don’t even think of Dante’s Inferno, Moby Dick, or Ulysses. Imagine every awesome thing you’ve ever seen in your life, now write it all down, put in a book, that’s the book this book uses for toilet paper.

If I said this was the most important piece of fiction ever written, it would be an understatement. If I said that this book was so awesome, I’ve set up a large shrine to it in my home with an alter and candles and that my wife and kids left me because I started a cult that worships David Wong as a god, that would be an overstatement. But if I told you that I now sleep with his book under my pillow at night hoping to vicariously absorb some of the genius in my sleep, I’d be telling the honest truth.

I had a recent imaginary conversation with noted linguist/psychologist Steven Pinkerton, he told me that the entirety of human history and language development was all leading up to one pivotal moment, the publication of this work. This is it, the singularity has arrived, and it is ten kinds of freaking amazing. He also told me that I have an unhealthy fixation with my mother, but that’s unrelated.

I can’t begin to described the awesomeness within this work. Think about it, you start with a good story, a story that would be great on its own, and then you throw in a layer of parody, and then, that parody makes a parody of itself, and that parody makes a parody that parodies parodies that parody themselves. This book doesn’t just shatter the fourth wall, this book extends into hyperspace and forms a hypercube, and breaks all sixteen walls in all the dimensions. This book is so meta that it cracks the meta-verse at the seams, and then cracks off-color jokes about farts and reproductive body parts, all while making bad puns about chairs.

You’ve got a bad guy named Shitload, and a half-shaved dog with a homemade plastic explosive in his colon, a timeless evil, and two dumb-ass wise-cracking anti-heros (one of whom sleeps with Jenifer Lopez) who are trying to save the world and get back to their dead-end jobs before they get fired, and the book delves deeply into bio-technology and philosophy, if that doesn’t sell you right there, you’re beyond my help.