Jun 01 2011
Well…
Goodbye, turds.
No, you are not turds. Well, some of you are. Wait, when I really think about it, I have dealt with an incredible amount of turds and turd-related activities on this website. To be honest though, it was those turds who got me out of bed each morning. I LOVE all the hate mail that continues to pour in every day, it truly does make my day. I salute you, turds!
But where does that leave you, the non-turd? Well, I love you even more. Yes, even I have the ability to love.
If I may be human for one brief moment, I really have loved hearing from all of you over the last few years but the reality is that I simply do not have the time or energy to continue writing. You may not be able to tell from my past writing, but I actually really put effort into this site and I don't want to continue unless I feel I can give it my best effort.
"Fuck you Listy, how hard can it be to rant about Guy Fieri?!?"
What did you just say to me? Do you have any idea how much vomit I choked down over the past 3 years while writing about powerful enemies like Guy Fieri, Miracle Whip and corn? Holy shit, I just realized something, if Guy Fieri has a recipe that involves slathering corn on the cob with Miracle Whip I might have to kill myself.
Back to the point... Dedicating 5 nights a week to my genius opinions was taxing but I did it for you, the little people. And WOW, was I good at it! Not to mention, all the hilarious writing I did (and continue to do) in the comments. I really am great, just like you guys always tell me. I'm high-fiving myself. Now I'm taking off my shirt and karate kicking the air while singing a Kid Rock song. I don't know if it's a real Kid Rock song but when I sing about America, tits and eagles I just assume it's probably one of his songs.
So, as much as I hate to say it, I think it's time for me to close up shop. It feels weird to make it official but all moderately good things must eventually fizzle and die a slow, forgetful death. Like Aerosmith.
I'm trying to find just the right words to sign off with. Something sincere, poignant and heartfelt. Perhaps I will simply say this...
Everything is the worst.
Goodbye.








So, why haven't I been writing lately? Turns out, when you move to Hawaii, you have to sell everything you own first. And, it turns out, selling everything you own is a fucking pain in the ass that takes up every free minute of your life.
I mention this so that I can fully illustrate my disgust with today's topic. It takes something 


I am fairly certain Dr. Ted Leon is getting a blowjob just off camera in this commercial because nobody should ever look that happy, ever. In fact, you really shouldn't even be making that face while getting a blowjob! I prefer the angry look, the one where you look like you are pissed at the person servicing you. I sometimes even shake my head in disgust. It's the same look I use while air-drumming to Rush songs. I used this facial expression once when I went to a store on a Sunday and it was closed. People still close up shop on Sundays (blowjob face)?
Give me the cranky antics and mispronunciations of 



You know what I like even better than overly-complicated ice cream with tons of shit in it? Overly-complicated ice cream prepared on a dirty table. And if you could make the whole excruciating experience take about 20 minutes, that would be fantastic.
You know what, don't even use the scoops. Seriously, just get your filthy hands right in there. I want to see my ice cream squeeze between your disgusting fingers like pus flowing from a boil. Fuck it, just throw the whole mess on the floor and stir it up with your penis.




I have been debating whether or not I want to give any more airtime to this woman and ultimately I decided FUCK YEAH, I want to talk more about my new friend, Charlene DeLoach over at 



I hate blogging.
Some of you might have noticed a comment I received on my 


Guess what idiots, deodorant is now so smart it knows when you are moving!
You'd think technology as advanced as this would be used by the military or NASA, but instead it's used to keep your mom's armpits dry every time she suddenly darts in any direction. What a world we live in!
Next time you see some random woman walking into Hobby Lobby, take a moment to appreciate the advanced number-crunching that's taking place under her arms. She calmly walks in the store's entrance like it's no big deal, but her deodorant is busy calculating speed and velocity. It is at this moment that her magic armpit computer makes some important decisions: should it spring into action and release its sweat-defeating power, or hold tight and see how this whole scenario is going to play out? The Degree decides to wait and see, like a Navy Seal poking his head out of a swamp in the middle of the night.
Suddenly, without warning, Aunt Carol makes a mad dash for the last clearance sale foam pumpkin... alarms and buzzers start going off under her arms like a fucking WWII submarine! The Degree is like "Holy shit, holy shit, it's really happening! OK we can do this. We trained for this a thousand times. ACTIVATE! ACTIVATE! ACTIVATE!"
I'm curious about one thing though, what happens when you are driving? Does the Degree get confused and start trying to dry you? Shit, what about on the delivery truck? How does the deodorant know when it's the real thing? I kind of feel bad for the deodorant now, that's a lot of pressure for a chunk of paste.
Even the Degree spokeswoman can't believe the shit coming out of her mouth.
(watch at your own risk, you might 






