Tag Archives: drunk

Snooki. Hulk Hogan. Finger in Butt Crack: Important News Here. UPDATED!

1 Aug

August 1, 2010

A few things have come to my attention this last month but didn’t rate their own blogs.
Among them:

ONE: Jersey Shore star, no, lets make that Jersey Shore‘s featured sideshow attraction, “Snooki,” was arrested for being drunk and disorderly on a public beach:

I’m sorry, but “Snooki”? To me, “Snooki” is the nickname of a World War Two veteran who smokes stubby cigars and sits at the end of the bar until closing time. “Snooki” rode in a tank and still wears his helmet on Memorial Day. “Snooki” has a buzzcut and won’t drive a German car. This tan piglet doesn’t deserve to be called “Snooki,” much less than she deserves all the blog space I devoted on her. Moving on.

TWO: Finger in Butt Crack Sparks Knife Fight.

DALLAS – A Dallas woman touched her friend’s buttocks, sparking an assault and attempted stabbing, police said.

The alleged incident happened at an apartment in the 1700 block of Trade Winds Drive in the southern section of the city.

According to a police report, 22-year-old Laquita Mattox rubbed a finger along the victim’s butt crack, prompting her to clench her buttocks. The victim claimed the clenching caused the bed she was sitting on to break, angering Mattox.

A fight ensued in which Mattox repeatedly hit the victim before grabbing a butcher knife and threatening to kill her. According to the report, she said, “Are you ready to die?”

The alleged victim called police and the suspect fled, the report stated.

Officers found no visible injuries on the woman, who refused medical attention.

It was not immediately clear if police arrested Mattox.

Can you come up with a better headline? No. Freakin’. Way. You know it- if you saw this headline in your local paper you’d read the article. If the local news channel teased this story you’d sit through the commercials for it. And if you were me you’d be trying to fit “that’s a knife fight in my butt crack!” into your blog with minimal success.

THREE: Found on eBay- Hulk Hogan baseball glove.

Remember when you were a kid and your Dad took you out to play catch? Or maybe you recall your first game of catch with your son? Either way, baseball, the Great American Pastime, has inspired millions of youngsters with the love of their game, and everyone has their favorite player. Be it old timers like Babe Ruth and Hank Aaron, retired heroes like Keith Hernandez and Curt Schilling, or future Hall of Famers like Derek Jeter and Ken Griffey Jr., every generation has its own players to look up to.

So imagine the look of pride on Dad’s face when he goes out to play soft-toss and his son is wearing this:

Watchoo gonna do, when a line drive goes wild on you, Brutha?

To quote Shakespeare, by way of The Maltese Falcon, news like that, that’s “the stuff that dreams are made of.”

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For those of you who thought you’d see Hulk Hogan with a finger in Snooki’s butt crack (or vice versa), I present you this picture of Hulk Hogan and his daughter Brooke:

Never play "smell my finger" with the Hulkster.

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Mr. Know-It-All on:

13 Nov

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.”

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