from January 1, 2008
Mr. Know-It-All on bloggers:
Is there a lower type of writing than a blog? Shit if I know. A blogger is the worst king of egotistical trash. Some guy decided that “Hey, I am the King of King Shit and I want EVERYBODY to read what I write because it is so damn cool!” Who the fuck cares? So the guy goes out and goes on eBlogger or MySpace or god forbid starts his own website and writes stuff. What kind of stuff? Crap. Jeez, look at your average BS blog. A movie review where the jokes are funny, even freakin’ hysterical….. to the writer. And maybe his one friend who knows all the Monty Python gags and jerks off to internet porn in his basement. Or maybe he’ll write up some dung about his day, like how he got invited to a Christmas party and didn’t go. Like we give a rat’s maggot infested ass about that. The usual blogger doesn’t get invited to any parties at all, ’cause he’s a toad, so when he does and blows one off he should be shot. Bloggers have no lives, they don’t even drink or pick up whores like he would if he were a Certified Advice Columnist like I am. Or maybe the blogger will make up like a fake interview where he wins an award. Who the fuck does he think he’s fooling? What the fuck? Then there’s the blog where he pretends to be someone else. Tough guy, right? Why don’t you just say it and use your own name? You’re not fooling anybody, bilgehole. This is why your friendly pal Mr. Know-It-All does crystal meth anally and orally too, ’cause of pussy bloggers. I have a headache that reaches all the way down to my shriveled balls right now. I wish bloggers would go back to pulling their puds over their coworkers who they are never going to screw and get the frig off the internet so I can go back to my Chris (Dateline) Hansen tribute site.
Mr. Know-It-All on naked people:
Everybody with a working central nervous system has seen somebody and wanted to see him or her without any clothes (and since Mr. Know-It-All is no homo I’ll stick to “her” from now on. So don’t get any funny ideas. That guy in the bus station just wanted change of a five, OK? Nothing happened in that bathroom stall.) Everybody thinks about it. Natural, right? Especially when you see somebody hot. But Mr. Know-It-All wants to see everybody naked. Just out of curiosity. Yes, curiosity. Keep your pervert ideas to yourself. But not the skags and skanks. They are repulsive and trust your buddy, the world is full of unappealing people. But who doesn’t ever just walk into a bar, order bourbon, vodka, and banana daiquiri all at once and just picture like the woman in the next booth naked? Or the bus driver? Or the average looking woman in the frumpy skirt who may or may not need a shave? And even the tall woman with the big mole but has a great rack and if you just put a bag over her head you think you can get it up? Mr. Know-It-All used to work in an office where the secretary was sleeping with her boss and never even looked at Mr. Know-It-All unless it was to tell him to cleanup his mess and zip his pants. Shit, I thought about her wearing nothing but a sombrero and a whipped-cream serape for two weeks straight. But the point, if there is a point, is that even the below average women have a chance with Mr. Know-It-All. I am usually so wasted they all look like Carmen Electra anyway, minus the STDs.
Mr. Know-It-All on giving advice:
We all know that Mr. Know-It-All is a nationally syndicated advice columnist with a radio show on Sirius satellite and a twice weekly newspaper column, but what we may not know is why he does it. I feel that a sacred trust exists between the advice seeker and the advice giver. It should never be taken lightly. Often the one seeking advice is a troubled teenage girl, looking to find her identity or orientation. Often a really stacked teenage girl on the verge of exploring her sexuality. Occasionally it is a hot MILF, or a divorced mother looking to start dating. Sometimes it is a woman who needs simple comfort in the arms or bed or even the backseat of the car of a caring, advice-giving man with a column. Sometimes it is just a prostitute looking to score some blow. But Mr. Know-It-All, without exception, takes all of these with a personal touch, and the mantra, “no letters from men.”
Mr. Blog's Tepid Ride 
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