You just made my list!

Let me start by saying this, Johnny Cash is the coolest person who ever walked the earth. It is impossible to be cooler than Johnny Cash. Hey, you know who is less cool than Johnny Cash? Justin fucking Timberlake. You know who’s less cool than my uncle’s balls? Justin-fucking-god-damn-Timberlake. This is why I almost threw my TV out the window and set myself on fire when I saw Justine’s douchebag face in a Johnny Cash tribute video. Fuck off! Justin Timberlake isn’t worthy to smell Johnny Cash’s farts. I’m not so sure Cash isn’t climbing out of his grave at this very moment on the way to kick his ass.

Can we all stop pretending we need to take this prancing, boy band, Michael Jackson rip off, ass wad seriously? I realize it’s cool to prove how ironic you are by playing his crap music at your lame party but enough is enough. You’ve had your fun, now go back to playing music you actually like and your friends want to hear. Your mustache is enough to let us know how ironically awesome you are. Just look at that picture of him, do you think “The Man in Black” wants this turd and his pube hair in one of his videos? Do you think Johnny Cash would be whistling “I’m Bringing Sexy Back” to himself if he were alive?

Johnny Cash could not be more opposite of Justin Timberlake. Cash was the real deal, he was as honest as they come. When he sings about pain you feel pain. When he sings about love you feel love. When he sings about drugs you feel high. No focus group was telling Johnny Cash what to do or how to dress and if you asked him to make an appearance on TRL to promote his new single he would have kicked you in the balls and snorted cocaine off your tears.

There will never be another Johnny Cash but there will always be another Justin Timberlake. You’re stinking up my list Timberlake!

I hope there is a special place in hell for people who can’t keep their fat mouths shut at a movie theater.

I went to see “WALL-E” last night and as always the people sitting directly behind me would not shut up. Now, since the theater was packed with kids you may think I’m just an asshole who should expect kids to talk during a movie. Yes, I do expect KIDS to talk during a kid’s movie, in fact I think it’s hilarious and cute when a kid breaks the silence by saying something like “it’s raining on the robot” but these yapping idiots were at least 16 or 17 years old. By that age you should have a basic understanding of how society operates.

It’s not like they were discussing an Iraq exit strategy or the latest Terry Gross interview on “Fresh Air,” instead these dolts merely verbalized anything their tiny tiny brains were shitting out. Without exaggeration, here’s what the first 10 minutes of the movie sounded like. Please keep in mind there were no breaks between these comments, it was a nonstop barrage of crap.

“Oh, it’s starting – Pixar – look at that lamp – that lamp is sooooo cute – Pixar – that’s earth – look at all the garbage – that’s garbage – there’s WALL-E – he’s sooooo cute – he’s rolling on wheels – he’s sooooo cute – ew gross – oh my god – he’s really cute – look at his eyes – I know, they are sooooo cute – look at all the garbage – earth is soooo dirty – WALL-E has to clean up earth – yeah he’s gettin’ all the garbage – he just rolls around getting’ garbage – yep, on his wheels, he’s rolling on his wheels”

A) SHUT THE FUCK UP and B) WALL-E DOESN’T HAVE WHEELS, they are tracks. TRACKS!

We turned around and shot them the “excuse me, I hate to bother you but could you please have a heart attack and die so we can hear the movie” look which did not work. Several more direct glances were ignored so finally we had to say “can you please be quiet?” If you have ever asked someone to be quiet in a theater you know what’s coming next. One dick wad turns to the other and says “what did they say” to which dick wad #1 replies sarcastically “I guess I’m not allowed to talk.” These dumb girls wanted to take it to the next level however and argued “we can talk if we want” to which we replied “no, no you can’t so shut up and stop talking.” Their next reply was possibly the most intelligent comeback I had ever heard and it really put us in our place. Dick wad #1 looked right into our eyes and said “why don’t YOU shut up and stop talking.” BRAVO! The hunter has become the hunted!

Listen butthole, you are not sitting at home in your trailer with a bag of Doritos on your belly watching “Mannequin” on your Betamax. Shut the fuck up or stay home.

(by the way, WALL-E ruled)

Hey celebrity jerks, your baby isn’t a toy for you to play with so knock it off with all the stupid names, ironic mullets and mohawks already. Guess what, we already know that you and your dumb baby are cooler than us, the mohawk is just rubbing it in. Gwen and Gavin, we are well aware of your Jamaican heritage and love of classic reggae like Shaggy and Snow, you don’t have to ram it down our throats by naming your kid “Kingston.”

I can not believe the amount of attention everyone who isn’t me gives to these celebrity babies, what they are wearing, what expensive Escalade stroller they get pushed around in and what $200 cashmere diaper they shit into. Don’t you have your own crappy kids to worry about? I swear to god, if Brad Pitt walked up to most people and said “here, hold Maddox’s poop in your bare hands for me” they would be happy to do it and would have photos of their brown hands on Myspace that night. The fact that approximately 900,000,000,000,000 celebrity baby blogs exist is enough to make me think it’s time for global warming to finish us off and let the cockroaches take a crack at it.

Ask the average American who their Senators are or where Iraq is on a map and they will respond with “support the troops, pussy” but ask them who baby Maddox wore to the Oscars and they ask “well, which year are we talking about here?”

I hate everyone.

Can we all just agree to knock off this new wave of preppy, collar popping, flip flopping bullshit? I already lived through it once in the 80’s so asking me to experience it again is like asking a 95 year old war veteran to head over to Europe and fight a little more WWII. The old guy and I just don’t need the hassle right now.

The most amazing thing about these turds is that I think they actually get laid! BY WOMEN! “Do you mind if I slip into something more comfortable. Oh, look at that, too late I’m already wearing flip flops.” Listen Brad, nobody wants to stare at your beer-soaked toes while they are trying to eat. If you are in a situation that requires pants then you are in a situation that requires shoes. You look retarded Brad.

I will give a pass to Kanye West and Kanye West ONLY. Kanye just looks fucking cool dressing like the mayor of Cape Cod. You, on the other hand, look like a major tool.

Just when I thought I could not hate Chris Martin and his sorry-excuse-for-Radiohead band Coldplay more, they start dressing like The Police circa Synchronicity. Do these buttholes ever have a single original idea?

Where do you start with this tool? How about his crap band? Coldplay is about as interesting as a blank piece of paper. Chris Martin can write all the shit he wants all over his arms and hands (stolen from Eddie Vedder) but that won’t change the fact that his songs are blander than white noise.

Gwyneth Paltrow can suck it too. How do you like this one… they even stole their daughter’s name, Apple, from Coldplay’s agent who already had a child named Apple. This asshole can’t even name his own baby! Chris Martin and Gwyneth Paltrow have got to be the two least interesting people on the planet and together they become one super boring blob of shit that bores you to death.

Oh, by the way, don’t make the mistake of asking this jerk about his music or he’ll teach you a lesson. How dare this BBC interviewer ask him about his music? I mean come on dude, you have one of the most important human beings that has ever lived sitting in your studio and you choose to ask him ABOUT HIS NEW ALBUM?!? You IDIOT!!! You’re lucky Chris Martin didn’t telepathically make your head explode, he can do that you know.

Fuck you Chris Martin, fuck you!

Nothing shows lady America that you love her like wrapping your smelly pubes in her flag! Thanks for the freedom, now kiss my taint.

Am I wrong to assume that most people who actually walk around in American flag clothing are strongly against the desecration of old glory? Yet these same super-patriots don’t think twice about ripping apart the very flag they claim to hold so dear and jamming their fat, sweaty body parts into it. I think the flag would rather die a quick death from burning than spend the next 15 years pressed against your wiener.

I fully understand what the flag stands for and why people love and respect it. My grandfather fought in WWII and I can remember how upset it would make him to see the flag touch the ground, even if it was a small child letting his tiny flag touch the ground while scrambling for candy at a 4th of July parade. Not angry upset but more like the emotion you would feel if you saw someone accidentally knock your grandmother over and keep walking. It was genuinely heartbreaking to him.

The flag meant something VERY real to him and he was willing to die for it. I wonder how many people would be willing to die for their American flag flip flops? Isn’t it the same thing? What makes one object covered in stars and stripes different from the next? If some dirty hippie can’t burn the flag why can you literally get shit and piss on it while you walk around the state fair? Are you starting to see how smart I am yet? Did you notice my last 5 sentences ended with question marks? Does that make me a bad writer? Probably.

Get out of that flag and into my list!

You know what my least favorite song is? The one coming from your stupid car.

I especially love to hear the trunk of your pimped-out Honda Civic rattle and buzz as you cruise your turf (from Home Depot to the Banana Republic) wit da boyz. You’re probably saying “hey, I bet you crank your car stereo sometimes” and the answer is yes BUT having perfect musical taste as I do, it’s a treat for those around me. It’s like a free concert of awesome music! As I drive by people give me thumbs up and yell “THAAAAANK YOOOOOU!”

Your music, on the other hand, is shit. Also, that racing fin on the back of your Ford Fiesta ain’t doing nothing but making you look douchey.

You and your stupid, loud car stereo just made my list!

I hate that I even know who John Mayer is and I especially hate that I know at any given moment which Hollywood dipshit he’s dating. I just got the shivers.

Let’s start with Jennifer Aniston. OK first of all Rachel, you and Ross were ON A BREAK! You can’t hold the fact that he screwed that copy girl over his head forever. Hello?!? Ross is your soul mate! Listen Rachel, I understand your relationship has been a real roller coaster and it seems like you’re always stuck in second gear but if you want a future with Ross, I mean REALLY want it, then you are going to have to forgive him. Whose shoulder did you cry on after leaving Barry on your wedding day? What about when you were banging Paolo, did Ross hold it against you? How about when you were with Joey? Joey for Christ’s sake! Who’s name did Ross say at the altar during his wedding to Emily? He said Rachel. Rachel, it was always you.

OK Mayer, it’s your turn. First let me say you are a douche bag. I don’t actually know much about this guy and I’m trying to keep it that way HOWEVER it’s almost impossible not to not absorb useless information if you own a TV and have ever been on the internet. I don’t know if I have ever heard more than 2 John Mayer songs but that’s plenty thank you very much. I heard him butcher “Sweet Home Chicago” when Conan O’Brien did his show from Chicago. Side Note: Way to go Conan, you’re in Chicago, the Home of the Blues and fucking John Mayer is your choice to perform Sweet Home Chicago? Nice one idiot. Anyway, the second John Mayer song I heard was actually this morning on the radio. I thought it was some unearthed Stevie Ray Vaughn reject track but it turns out it was John Mayer doing his best SRV copy. He must have learned the blues while roaming the mean streets of the Berklee College of Music wondering where he’s going to score his next Jamba Juice fix.

I don’t even remember what I’m talking about anymore. Oh yeah, who gives a shit about John Mayer and Jennifer Aniston.

Johniston & Jennayer you just made my list!