A few years ago I played a little role in my friends’ short film for the 48 Hour Film Project called Birthmarked For Death (click to watch on Funny or Die). It won a bunch of awards and was screened in the Short Film Corner of the Cannes Film Festival. Everybody went to the festival but I could, sadly, not tag along because I spent all my international travel money on beer and comic books. Since it was 2008 and Bush was still in office, I sent an email to my friends who went full of tips and tricks for Americans abroad. Here’s the letter:

Hey, y’all! How’s France treating you? I hope you’re all having fun at the Cannes film fest and if the locals are treating you rough because of your American heritage just remember a few things.

1. We saved their asses in WW2. Make sure to remind them as much as possible.

2. They fucking love Jerry Lewis (not to be confused with Jerry Lee Lewis) there. If you say something to a Frenchman and he is not pleased, just immediately follow it up with “Nice LLLLAAAADDDDYYYYY”.

3. Don’t bathe while you’re there. French people never bathe ever and you may fit in better if you smell of body odor.

While everybody receiving this email is married, engaged or in a relationship, I thought you all could use some pick up lines to use while you’re there

For the Guys:
I want to drive my Eurobus into your Chunnel.

I’d like to cram my Eiffel Tower into your Louvre.

I want you to ride my cock-bike in the Tour De Pants.

For the Ladies:
I want to spread my brie all over your baguette.

I want you to make like Napoleon and Bonemyparte.

I want to ride your cock-bike in the Tour De Pants.

Well, I hope you all receive this (do they have internet in France?) and are all having fun. Take lots of pictures! I’ll see you all when you get back.

Happy Towel Day! To celebrate the life of Douglas Adams, I have a towel wrapped tightly around my neck, slowly cutting off the blood to my brain as I write this blog.

To day also marks Oprah’s last broadcast. As a housewife, I’m legally obligated to watch Oprah every day while alternately using a thigh master and eating bonbons. I’m sad to see Oprah go and I’ve learned so much from her over the years. Lessons such as

– Incest is creepy
– Tom Cruise is creepy
– Michael Jackson was creepy
– I should read every book Bill Cosby’s ever written.

We’ll miss you, Oprah and I’ll always regret never being in your studio audience to receive one of your awesome gifts.

I’m on my third week of blogging now and I feel that I can really open up to you, the reader. Every day that I’ve posted some little short story or political satire or shameless plug for a show I’m doing I’m lying. Lying to you and lying to myself. It’s not me and it’s not who I want to be. I have such great aspirations for this website but I don’t think I have the talent or chops to really fufill my dream. My dream is to be a celebrity gossip blogger.

I know it’s foolish. People like my hero, Perez Hilton make it look easy with his blog, his fashion blog Coco Perez or his celebrity pet blog Teddy Hilton (named after his dog) where he literally just posts pictures of celebrities picking up dog shit.

I lie awake at night fantasizing about spending all day in bed, laying on my stomach with my feet in the air like a teenage girl on the phone, typing away on my laptop about Justin Bieber’s new perfume. I’d spend every day sipping mimosas and getting erections whenever somebody who was in a movie gets arrested for drunk driving. I’d rub one out quickly while crying furiously and then post a picture of the famous drunk driver, perhaps I’d ms paint the word “LOLZ!” on their picture and then let my eyes roll in the back of my head while the blog hits came in and gave me the ultimate ego high.

I’ve even been working on coming up with a clever celebrity blogger name. So far I have it narrowed down to:

-Jim Kardashian
-Man Gaga
– If Snooki were a dude and also a celebrity blogger

I know it’s useless. A simple midwestern joke-guy like me could never be the hard nosed reporter who tells the public about who Justin Timberlake may or may not be having sex with but I’ll continue with my dream because I’m an empty fucking shell of a human being.

Sarah Palin recently said she has a fire in her belly to run for President next year. Given that her biggest competition isTim Pawlenty, she actually has a pretty good shot at winning the nomination.

Frankly, I think it’s safe to say she has no chance of winning. Her only political experience is governing a state with less than a million people (The entire US population is nearly triple that, she might not be up for the job). She’s constantly saying incredibly stupid things (click to see a list of the top ten dumb things she’s said) and I’m pretty sure the second she’s in office she’ll appoint the surviving cast of Red Dawn to her cabinet and start a war with Russia.

While it’s pretty obvious that Sarah Palin is a bad choice, the Republican party can still win next year and still nominate a woman. I suggest adult film star Lisa Ann (don’t worry, you can click. It’s only her wikipedia page). You may remember Lisa Ann as the “actress” who starred in the biopic “Who’s Nailin’ Paylin?” (answer: everybody). While she may not have the political experience of her non-pornographic doppelganger she shares all of Sarah Palin’s good qualities (physically attractive) and as a small business owner (She ran a “talent” agency for two years) she’s bound to win over the Tea Party in no time. She can’t be any dumber than the real Sarah Palin and while right wing porn addicts fruitlessly search the internet for a Palin sex tape, Ms. Ann has hundreds (also safe to click, just her IMDB page) available.

So please, republicans, nominate Lisa Ann for the 2012 presidential candidacy because it’s literally no more ridiculous than your other front runners.

It was 10AM on Thursday.  I had already been at work for two hours because my shift started at 8 and I had no reason to call in sick.  There I was working on my work when she appeared.  She walked into my office without knocking.  All blonde hair, red dress, high heels, skin, muscle, bones, tendons, ligaments and organs.  She was what you would call a woman.  She lit a cigarette and sat down in the chair in front of my desk that I bought so customers wouldn’t have to stand.  “My sister’s been kidnapped” she said pushing air past her vocal cords and moving her mouth to make words.  “I don’t know who to turn to.”

“Isn’t that a matter for the police?” I asked, knowing police usually handled problems like kidnappings.

“Ha!”  She threw her head back and laughed like I made a joke which was strange because I didn’t.  “I’m almost certain she was kidnapped by the Police Chief’s son.  I don’t have enough evidence to prove it, though.  That’s why I came to you, detective.”

There was only one problem.  I’m an accountant.

I was in the middle of telling her that I’m not a detective when she interrupted me.  The kind of interruption that cuts you off mid- “You don’t need to worry about money.  I have plenty.  I’ll pay double your normal fees.”

I forgave her for interrupting my thought because I was pretty sure she couldn’t read minds.  If she could, she would’ve scanned my mind long ago to find out I’m not a detective.  Then again, I couldn’t be sure because I was never the best with deduction.  I guess that’s one of the many reasons I never became a private investigator.  “That’s real nice, ma’am, but I-“ she interrupted me this time by kissing me.  The kind of kiss that comes when you don’t think you’re about to be kissed.  When you have no reason to be kissed.  As she kissed me I wondered if this is how she did everything.  Did she walk into the bank demanding a cheeseburger, interrupt the clerk every time when he tried to explain to her that she was in a bank and then kiss the clerk?  I almost laughed at the thought but didn’t because she was still kissing me and I didn’t want her to think I was laughing at her kiss.  She pulled her lips away, ending the kiss.  “I think there is some sort of misunderstanding” I said, knowing that there was certainly a complete misunderstanding.

Her face turned to a scowl, indicating that she was mad at me which was weird since she just kissed me.  “Well let me make this perfectly clear for you then, detective” I wanted to shout that I’m an accountant but it’s impolite to interrupt people.  Somebody should’ve told her that.  “Here’s five hundred dollars.  I’ll be at the Belmont hotel in two days checked in under the name Marge Johnson.  Meet me there with all the info you have.”  She threw the money on the desk clearly marked “Bob Anderson, C.P.A.” and ran out the door.  I followed her out to the hallway but she was already gone.  That’s when I noticed for the first time that the office across the hall was a private investigator’s office.  Maybe she walked into the wrong office.  I can never be sure.  I’m not a detective.

(Note:  This is another one of my old blogs from MySpace.  It’s green to recycle blog content.  I’m doing this for the environment.)

Well, graduation season is in full swing and with my status of rags-to-riches-local-boy-done-good-cinderella-story media mogul I find myself getting quite a few offers to be the commencement speaker at many ceremonies.  The pay kind of sucks (mostly just honorary degrees and leftover veggie trays) but I speak at as many as I can because I truly believe that children are our future.  I also feel that a free veggie tray is a free fuckin’ veggie tray am I right?!?  Score! 

Anyway, here’s the speech I’ve been running with so far. 

Good afternoon class, faculty, parents, families and creepy guys that graduated 2 years ago but are here because they’re dating seniors.  As I look down at all of your young, eager faces just hungry for the challenges of the future I remember when I was your age.  On my graduation, as I sat down in the auditorium listening to the local fire chief give his speech I remember thinking of how he spoke nothing of fire safety or how we should deal with fiery situations when we enter college or the work force.  I mean, he’s the fire chief, right?  I think that if you’re speaking at something important like a graduation you’d work with your strong points but he didn’t even utter so much as a stop, drop and roll.

He didn’t even talk about how cool it is to be a fireman or how they have that pole in the firehouse that they slide down when there’s a fire.  You’d think that if you’re talking to young people the fire pole would be your opener, you know?  Get them interested right off the bat.

I then thought that maybe our principal was kind of a procrastinator and this guy was all he could get on short notice.  You gotta plan early if you want to get a good speaker like that guy who was hiking and cut his own arm off when it got pinned under a rock.  That guy books MONTHS in advance.

Man, that guy.  The arm guy?  That guy can pretty much get laid wherever he goes.  He can pretty much just walk into any bar and have his pick of the litter.  Most guys that are missing an arm have to work that much harder to get any kind of tail but this guy has pretty much the best story ever.  He might be married, though.  I’m not sure.

I guess my point is that when you leave this arena and enter college or the workforce, you have many career paths.  Should your career choice be that of a high school principal, make sure to book your commencement speakers well in advance or else you’ll be stuck with some fire chief who won’t even break out his “A” fire material.  Thank you.  (hold for applause)

Entertainment news sites are proclaiming that this will be yet another summer of sequels in theaters with Transformers :  Dark of the Moon, The Hangover 2, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2: Magic Boogaloo, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dirty Face Mascara Party, Mission Impossible 2: Tom Cruise Tries Pulling Off Being a Secret Agent at 48 Years Old and X-Men: At Least Brett Ratner’s Not Directing This One Holy Shit is he Terrible.  People wonder why so many unnecessary sequels get made and the answer is that we’re all idiots that are comfortable with the familiar.  With this in mind, I have some sequel screenplays lying around my bathroom floor that I’m going to start immediately submitting to Hollywood (submitting = mailing them to “Movie People; Hollywood, CA”).

Garfield 3:  The Fast and the Purrious.  Garfield and Odie are taken for a wild ride as Jon Arbuckles the fuck up and starts street racing in an attempt to win the affections of Liz the Veterinarian.

Home Alone 5.  Macaulay Culkin, reenacting childhood trauma, attempts to break into Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern’s (they’re roommates) house to clog up their kitchen sink and leave the water running.  He’s foiled again and again by a sophisticated security system of swinging paint cans and BB rifles.

City Slickers 3: Curly’s Revenge.  The ghost of Curly torments Mitch Robbins until he returns the gold to where it was buried.  He gathers up his friends for one last final this time for real journey to the ranch where they learn yet again the true meaning of friendship.  While away, Macauley Culkin breaks into Phil Berquist’s house, clogs the kitchen sink and leaves the water running.

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 3.  The jeans are stolen by a Mexican pants cartel and these sisters learn that blood is thicker than denim as they kill their way across the country to retrieve a symbol of their friendship.

Oceans 14.  Danny calls all his friends from last time plus one more to Beijing for their biggest score yet.  This time they’re going to steal all the tea in China.

I’ll be a millionaire!

(p.s. I was going to do one about a new “Scary Movie” because “fuck it, they did another ‘Scream'” but it turns out that it’s already in production. Good news out there for fans of semen jokes.)

Last night was the Monday Night Comedy ShowAwards and the Young family walked home with a bucket full of trophies!

Every trophy ever.

The wife (Jen) won “best spoken word/poetry”, the stepson (Jared) won “best audience member” and I took home “best improv act”, “best energy drink” and “Lifetime achievement” for performing 50 times in the 175 show run.  I feel like Charlie Sheen except I actually won something.

While I didn’t get a trophy for “best energy drink”, they let me keep the envelope

I'll cherish it forever.

The crowning achievement, however, is the Lifetime Achievement Award.

The only ship as what can outrun The Flying Dutchman

I was told it doesn’t float but I’m going to waterproof it and take it in the bath with me anyway.  This thing is sleeping at the foot of my bed like a faithful dog.  It is truly the pinnacle of gold spray painted balsa wood.

Though I’m honored to be recognize by the best weekly show in town (Mondays at 8PM.  Beat Coffee House on 28th and Hennepin), where do I go from here?  Not many people win a lifetime achievement award before they’re 30 and while I’m sure to win many, many awards before I die, none of them can be used to play with my action figures like this one (damn you for not being pose-able, Daytime Emmy!).

While I mud-wrestle with my existential angst, you can go see the comedy that won the coveted “Best Energy Drink” envelope this weekend at The Comedy Corner Underground! Maybe they’ll give me an award (I expect them for everything now)!

There’s a group of people out there (there=the internet) that wants humanity to die out. It’s true. The Voluntary Human Extinction Movement has made it their mission to educate people that they’re killing the world and to not have babies anymore. While they have a convincing argument full of poignant comic strips, population statistics and a seriously condescending chart on why people have babies (click the link and scroll down a bit), they may have a problem getting people to join their cause for 3 reasons.

1. Without new babies, there’s no new Laughing Baby videos. I don’t want to live in that world.

2. It’s a stupid idea.

3. With no human beings around to keep animals in place by stuffing them in each other then eating them, some stupid animal will just evolve to become the dominant species and fuck the earth up even worse.

Science and SNL has taught us that the most likely candidate will be the Bear. They already know how to sit, stand and ride bikes. Once they can work a doorknob and say something other than a bad Chewbacca impression they’ll pretty much be on par with homo sapiens. This would be disastrous for mother earth. Why, you ask? Let me lay it out for you with bullet points.

*Bears can’t drive little hybrid cars. They can only fit comfortably in SUVs.

*Polar Bears will clog the skies with smoke from their overworked Coca Cola factories.

*Sewage treatment plants will be overtaxed from oversized bear poops. I’m only assuming bears poop huge. I tried googling “How big does a bear poop?” and only got a bunch of links to youtube videos of bears shitting in the woods with titles like “Does a bear shit in the woods? Here’s your answer!”.

*Bear war will be three times more horrific than any human war. Bear arms races will escalate quickly, causing competing countries to create bigger and bigger Bear traps. Eventually, a bear trap will be made that, if stepped on, will cut the world in half.

*The Panda population will explode, furthering the use of natural resources and bringing bamboo to extinction. People don’t realize that Pandas are actually fuck machines and the Chinese government goes to great lengths to keep the Pandopulation (Panda population. Shortened for brevity’s sake) low for the sake of the environment. They keep this from the rest of the world because Pandas are just so adorable!

In conclusion, don’t join the VHEMT and thank you, Chinese government, for the over 3 million Panortions (Panda Abortions. Shortened, once again, for brevity’s sake) you perform every year.

Today’s a pretty slow news day. Osama Bin Laden’s still dead, no earthquakes or tsunamis and Michelle Bachman has yet to propose legislation to make it legal to hunt gay people. Being a ho-hum Friday, Kare 11 lobbed this softball to parents of the twin cities entitled “Four Conversations Every Parent Should Have With Their Children”. In the article, a youth pastor in Eden Prairie states that you should sit your child down and tell them –

1. Choices Have Consequences: True. If you don’t let your child know this, they will certainly grow up to be a crazed sociopath with no concept of cause and effect.

2. Sex Was Created To Be Wonderful and Enjoyed: Again, true. We don’t want our children growing up to think sex is a laborious task only used for procreation. If you don’t tell your kids sex is fun, who will? The media? Unlikely.

3. I am not perfect: This one is very important in case your child invites his friends over and then stabs you with a steak knife to prove to them that you’re invulnerable or have a mutant healing factor. My stepson had to learn the hard way that bullets don’t bounce off me by shooting me in the leg. On the way to the hospital we had a heart-to-heart about how I’m only human before I passed out from blood loss.

4. You Are Uniquely and Wonderfully Made: While it may be fun to tell your child that they were purchased at Wal-Mart on clearance or that everybody’s special except them, turns out it will hurt their “self esteem” in the long run.

While I applaud the pastor for trying to strengthen relationships between parents and children, I think that such conversation tips should come from somebody like me who still thinks like a child (plays video games, reads comics, still a virgin). So here are Four Conversations You Should Actually Have With Your Children.

1. Zombies Are Coming. Be Prepared: This means not only educating your child by watching everything George Romero’s ever made (even Land of the Dead) and reading books like The Zombie Survival Guide, World War Z and The Five Zombies You Decapitate in Heaven (that last one might have just been a dream I had). It also means making sure that your child understands if you go zombie, they have to take you out. It’s important to know that you are their parent and will always love them unless you turn into a zombie.

2. Some Drugs Are Worse Than Others: Growing up I was always told that drugs are bad. Never was I told that smoking crack was way worse than smoking weed. One time in high school a kid asked me if I wanted to smoke a bunch of PCP in the boys’ room. It took four tranquilizer darts and a taser to get me off the flagpole that day. Had I just smoked a joint, I would’ve just been suspended and grounded for a month.

3. Playing “Magic: The Gathering” is a Good Way to Stay a Virgin Until You’re 20: Same goes for D&D, Pokemon or any card game that doesn’t involve regular playing cards. I’m currently working on a time machine to go and tell my younger self this one.

4. Seriously. I Want You to Shoot Me If I Become a Zombie: I cannot stress this enough. Nobody wants their children to be the sad cliche shaking so hard they can’t hold the gun straight and blubbering through tears “Don’t you recognize me, dad? It’s me! I love you!”. Over 30% of zombie infections are passed from parent to child during futile rationalization attempts (source: The Five Zombies You Decapitate in Heaven). Don’t be another statistic.