You just made my list!

Look at me, I’m God, I hate everything, I’m jealous of people who are funnier than me so I kill them from high atop my magical cloud spaceship. I sit alone in my cloud condo eating sandwiches made out of some animal that only I know about, slowly killing off the cast of Airplane because nobody ever came to see my improv group even though I like totally put flyers up all over heaven. Peter Graves DEAD… Barbara Billingsley DEAD… Leslie Nielsen… SEE YA! Look out guy who had the starring role but nobody knows the name of, because you are next. La dee frickin’ da, I’m God and I’m going to take all my toys home unless someone plays with me.

Leslie Nielsen farts on TV and you love it!

FUCK!

Why? Why is Thomas Cruise Mapother IV so awesome when all I want to do is hate him?

It’s easy to despise Tom Cruise when he’s jumping on your couch and babbling on and on about space monsters, but then, out of nowhere, the guy has the nerve to be so insanely kickass that we have no choice but to engage in a worldwide slow clap.

It’s hard to decide on the appropriate emotion when his name is spoken. Instantly I think about what a bag of turds the guy was when he was telling Brooke Shields to just get over her depression already and climb aboard the Millennium Falcon with him, and then WHAM, I catch a rerun of “TAPS” or “Risky Business” on cable and suddenly I just want to squeeze those fat cheeks and initiate the most monumental tickle-fight the known universe has ever seen. He’s like an abusive boyfriend, he hits me because he loves me so much. MAVERICK!

While the rest of our lazy asses were sitting at Outback Steakhouse jamming Bloomin’ Onions into our greasy mouths, this fucking guy was dangling from the world’s tallest building in Dubai. Guess what? I’d be afraid to even GO to Dubai because I hear you go to jail for holding hands in public. I like holding hands, sue me.

Oh, by the way, he remained as cool as his character in “Cocktail” while hanging from that tiny rope 2000 feet in the air. What have YOU done lately?

God damn you Cruise.

UPDATE!

Here are some stunt men at the top of the same building, scouting locations for the film. Oh and by the way, ONE GUY ISN’T EVEN WEARING A SAFETY HARNESSES! Cut your dick off because these guys win.

I’m sure all of you were equally destroyed by the news of Bob Guccione’s death and, if you are like me, you will be taking the day off to mourn and reflect.

Rarely does mankind see greatness like Guccione. Playboy may have shown me my first glimpse of female pubes but Penthouse let me behind the curtain, so to speak. It was as if Bob Guccione himself was taking me by the hand and giving me an intimate tour of the female anatomy. Not too many grown men would do that for a 13-year-old boy and he deserves all the praise in the world for it.

Sure, it was scary at first, after all the first issues of Penthouse I saw were from the late 70s and early 80s when a woman’s pubic hair extended 6 inches from her body. Once I worked through the fear it was an incredible journey filled with head bands, baby oil, tan lines, Venetian blinds lit by red and blue lights, naked women washing cars and, most importantly, girls having sex with other girls. My eyes are filled with tears as I type this.

I fear that Guccione’s greatest gift to humanity will be lost. I am speaking, of course, of Penthouse Forum. Forum was better than the pictorials and it was nothing more than real letters from Penthouse readers telling real tales of getting laid. Yes, they were real and I don’t want to hear any more about it! I couldn’t wait to grow up because, thanks to Forum, I was under the impression young adulthood was going to be an endless parade of sex with hot housewives in their pools, sex in the woods with hitchhikers, sex in the grocery store parking lot, sex with triplets and sex that produced a minimum of 8 male orgasms. That son-of-a-bitch Guccione had me masturbating to words. WORDS!

Rest in peace sweet sweet Bob Guccione.

You proud of yourself, God? I bet you think you are king of the fucking universe right now, don’t you? All high and mighty, sitting up there on your cloud, killing two beloved TV parents in the same week. As Christian Bale says, “OH, GOOD FOR YOU!”

Well you finally did it, you made Wally and Beaver orphans. I know you have been dreaming of this day for a long time and now you can kick up your old man feet on some stupid cloud La-Z-Boy® recliner that’s made out of clouds and smells like clouds and give yourself  a nice slow clap. I watched “Leave it to Beaver” every day after Junior High so I can’t help but think some of this was aimed at hurting me.

Let me get this straight, God… Guy Fieri gets to wake up tomorrow and put on his favorite flame-covered bowling shirt but June fucking Cleaver is six feet under? Yeah yeah, don’t give me this “she was 94 years old” bullshit, you’re God, give unto her the ability to live forever! Dick.

Barbara Billingsley being awesome

And then this shit happens…

Sunday, Monday, Happy Days.
Tuesday, kill Mr. Cunningham?

What’s wrong with you? Tom Bosley was Father Dowling, A FUCKING PRIEST, for your son’s sake. Were you jealous that Bosley was on pretty much every classic TV show ever… Car 54 Where Are you, Get Smart, The Mod Squad, Bewitched, Mission: Impossible, Maude, The Paul Lynde Show, Love Boat, Happy Fucking Days, Touched by an Angel!?!

You wish your resume was that strong, God. Let’s see, what have YOU done with your life? You created the Earth 6,000 years ago. BFD! I entered a video in Madonna’s “Make My Video” contest on MTV in 1986 and they fucking played it on the air, TWICE, and said my name, but you don’t see me going around bragging about it every two seconds.

Let me see if I understand this… Mr. C. is dead but right now, as we speak, Guy Fieri is buying a totally “money” belt buckle that looks like dice? It just doesn’t add up.

I realize this Happy Days intro is from the time period when the show sucked and it started to look like the 80s even though it was still the 50s and Fonzie was a teacher or something, but I wanted you to see the super douche move that occurs at the 0:49 mark. Watch closely.

Have you seen the new video for “The Kill” by “30 Seconds to Mars,” Jared Leto’s shit emo band? Of course you haven’t because you aren’t a 13-year-old girl. The premise is basically this… Jared Leto and his band check into a hotel with 10 suitcases of eyeliner and a desire to shit all over Kubrick’s “The Shining.” Then some screaming and intense glaring at the camera happens. Oh yeah, then Jared Leto fucks Jared Leto in a hallway.

Great, now look at the camera – click click – perfect, now look down – click click – great, great – click – I love it – click click click – Beautiful! Let’s try something totally outrageous, something that has never been tried before. Let’s try one where you are taking a drag off a cigarette. Yeah, I know it sounds crazy but you’ve got to trust me on this one, I think it will make you look like the biggest bad ass that has ever lived. What’s that, you don’t smoke? Well it’s time to learn if you ever expect to be awesome. You want to look cool and mysterious, right? OK, here we go – click – YEAH, I LOVE IT – click click – Ooooh, the choking is great, keep doing that – click click

We get it, you’re a bad boy. You wear distressed Motley Crüe T-shirts that you paid $300 for in Beverly Hills and, as much as your mother begs, you simply refuse to quit smoking. Congratulations celebrity tough guys, you are exactly as cool as a teenage boy.

To be honest, I blame the photographers for perpetrating this cliché over and over like a bunch of high school photo students shooting pictures of a single flower poking through the snow. Deep, very deep.

I’ve avoided talking about this bore for as long as possible but I just can’t take it anymore.

Can we please agree to stop pretending this empty bag is “interesting” and “provocative?” And for the love of GOD, what will it take to stop saying every new female “artist” is the “next Madonna?” I’m sorry but Madonna was tolerable at best so being the next Madonna is like being the next Bud Light.

Yeah, you heard me, Madonna really wasn’t that great. Compared to Lady Gaga, however, Madonna was fucking Johann Sebastian Bach. Compared to Madonna, Lady Gaga is simply Sebastian Bach.*

You can’t polish a turd but apparently if you put that same turd in a costume made out of tampons it’s suddenly pushing artistic boundaries. Here’s an idea, work on the music first and once that’s perfected dress up like cereal boxes all day long. Actually no, forget that, I’m officially declaring no more costumes for anyone. It’s been done and it’s been done better… David Bowie, Kiss, Devo, David Byrne, The Village People, GWAR, The Ramones, Elton John, The Residents, Marilyn Manson, etc.

So there you have it, I have spoken, it is written and I’m sure within a matter of days Lady Gaga’s career will be over. (please don’t wake me from this dream)

*Was that a good joke, I honestly can’t tell anymore.

Kirstie, can you stay off my TV for two seconds, my entertainment center* can’t support your fat ass anymore.

Everyone’s favorite jiggly tub of sausage is back with a new show about… drum roll… being fat! She first rolled (literally) her way into our living rooms with “Fat Actress.” I never saw the show but I’m assuming most episodes centered around Kirstie being fat and talking about being fat. Oh the good times I must have missed! The beast that ate Kirstie Alley (that would have been a way more kick ass title) is back with a new program called “Kirstie Alley’s Big Life,” but this time around the show is about Kirstie being fat and talking about being fat.

I checked IMDB and Kirstie Alley has been in at least 10 shows about being fat…

– Jesus Christ, Kirstie Alley is Fucking Fat!
– Kirstie Alley Eats Her Way Out of Bags Made of Meat
– Kirstie Alley: Only Slightly Less Attractive Than When She Was Thin.
– STAND BACK, ME HUNGRY!
– Cheers
– Hey, Kirstie Alley Just Ate Everything in My House and Drank My Pool!
– Kirstie Alley Tries to Reach Things
– Look Who’s Choking Now
– I’m a Celebrity, Please Help Me Put My Pants On
– Cloggin’ Da Toilet Wit Da ‘K Dog’ Yo!

We get it Kirstie, YOU’RE FAT!

Writing this made me hungry.

*I don’t actually own an entertainment center.