Profiles in America's Youth: Vol.1

Stalov is the Original Libertine is what high school is all about. This L.A. wonder has got his rebelious youth priorities in order. Turn ons: Howard Stern, communism, stoner movies, serial killers, porn, and the literary stylings of John Grisham. Turn offs: his high school, marriage, Nancy Gracy, Adam Sandler, Laci Peterson (as well as her mom), and "pussified guys." Send him mad props, a dvd of "Reds," or the name of a good bail bondsman in southern California.

Apocalypse Now: Vol. 1

The Great Red Comet states/asks: "Current world events are providing factual evidence that the End Times are upon us. Will you be prepared?" Loaded with all kinds of uplifting news on the latest "political, geological, and climatological" catastrophes - all part of the great "tribulation" described by Hindus, Christians, and Native Americans alike. As we have said in the past, when the time comes you can find us at the bar.

Margaritaville Revisited

Raise your hands if your brackets are fubar! Bradley? What the fuck is Bradley and from whence did it come? And we'd like to personally invite all of the schools representing the Big Ten (especially Ohio State) to remove the large pieces of furnture from their rectums and get their asses back into the gym. If you had just as tough of a weekend as we did with the old office pool, then perhaps you should read Bracketology 101 more often.

Oh, but we know that March Madness is all about the little guys having their time in the spotlight - like leprauchans or the Irish generally - and we can't express our gratitude enough to the NCAA and Catholic Church for getting together this year and and holding the second day of the tournament on St. Patrick's Day, a day where there is nothing to do but drink Guiness and watch 16 basketball games. What could be better?

Spring Break, you say?

We'd like to agree with you, but to tell you the truth most of the day's events during our Spring Break start to get a little fuzzy around noon - unless you want to hear stories about some kick ass huevos rancheros? But Charlie the intern apparently had a wonderful time. The drug-sniffing dogs nearly torn him to shreads when we landed back in the States. We'd give him the reigns for the rest of this post, but his lawyer has asked him to remain mute. C'est le vie!

Don't Drink the Water

Every year The Big Guy asks us to take a little camping trip with him to the Holy Lands. We usually set up our tents at the base of Mount Megiddo and go on maneuvers for a few weeks. It's usually the same stuff every year - we practice smiting the masses, covering heretics in leprous boils, casting apostates into the putrid demons' dung of the eternally damned. It's a good time, but a lot of work, and is usually capped off by a few days of hardy intoxication on the Lord's Tab at an exotic locale of our choosing. This year we should be done with our duties right around the time Spring Break gets into full swing so we're heading off to the scenic Yucatan Peninsula to bone up on our knowledge of ancient Mayan civilization and to scream "Show us your tits!" at nubile American coeds. It may sound like a radical transition, but we have it on A Reliable Source that on Judgment Day the Whore of Babylon will descend to Earth looking an awfully lot like a wet t-shirt contest at a Cancun tiki bar.

We'll be back in town just in time for the first round of March Madness - during which time we drop out of existence to spend the entire 96 hours in front of our televisions, so don't expect to hear from us in the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, enjoy our hiatus - we know we will!

Captions Needed

What's the dude in the bottom right-hand corner thinking?


Send us your thoughts. Think of it as if it were the New Yorker's weekly Cartoon Caption Contest, but without any rewards.

Smoke 'Em if You Got 'Em

The US Marijuana Party doesn't sound like it would be the most motivated political organization ever to grace the bully pulpit (but we have little doubt they have preternatural HVAC skills). Loretta Nall is using this site to promote her run for governor of Alabama, where she was arrested, presumably, for writing a pro-weed letter to the editor of the Birmingham News. We support her candidacy, but will only endorse her under two conditions: 1.) if she's able to get Kinky Freidman advisor Willy Nelson on board, and 2.) if her campaign slogan is "Bet You Can't Make a Bong Out of a Voting Machine!"

Athletic Supporters and Other Structural Engineering Marvels

Things We Bought That Suck...or Not is kind of like Consumer Reports if it were run by a pair of Canucks who wear their maple leaves proudly on their sleeves. The premise is elegant: buy something (rugby shorts, for example), eventually discover something wrong with it ("asymetrical testicle support"), then bitch about it.

Most of the purchases are fairly conventional - a haircut, sushi, a hockey stick - but the one we were most impressed with was the six months of education at MIT for only $100 (we're not sure if that's Canadian or US dollars). The MIT experience is, thus far, the only item to not recieve a "Suck" or "Not suck" rating, earning instead an "Intermediate." We can only hope that one of America's premier engineering institutions offered exquisitely symetrical testicular support or the last bridge we ever ride over in this country was crossed this morning.

The Power of Christ Compels You

Looking for Christ in all the wrong places? Jesus of the Week can help direct you! According to this site JC can be found in the men's room, playing center field for the Yankees next season, on a tortilla shell, looking very much like a wine bottle-opener, playing poker at Binion's casino, on the "Christian" $20 bill, posing as a bobble head doll, and looking like a number of different balloon, uh, Dieties? He's the most versatile Lord and Savior around, folks!

Bananarama

Enjoy the idle musings of at least a few creative folks inspired by nature's pre-eminent edible phallic symbol at The Tattooed Banana.

Giant Prick Still at Large

Ajatar tries to prove he's the worl'd biggest dick by giving us all 1000 Reasons why I'm the Worst Person Alive. For what it's worth, allow us to give him Reason #294: Inability to categorize subjects numerically or according to any logical sequence.

[Painting by Albert Reyes]