Archive for June, 2009


man is the most dangerous prey. the least dangerous? lettuce.

As Americans continue to flock to the suburbs for no good reason, what is their biggest complaint? The answer may surprise you. It’s not the inefficiency of their long commutes, the soul-crushing pressure to maintain appearances, or even garden slugs, but rather the frustration that comes from a simple desire to occasionally break free and party balls.

And that’s where we at Viceco can help, with our all-new PT124. What is the PT124, you ask? No, it’s not a ray you can point at your enemies that gives them incurable skin diseases. That won’t be ready until 2011.  

You see, somewhere in your neighborhood, there’s a dad that’s growing mind-blowing hydroponic weed in his basement, or a swinging couple that looks like a naked, oiled-up version of Will and Jada. Thanks to our patented technology, these clandestine Eyes Wide Shut-esque suburban paradises emit a signal visible only to those wearing the PT124 glasses, helping you find a place to turn your impure thoughts into impure deeds without attracting any undue attention from that guy down the street who’s in charge of admissions for that expensive private school you want to get your kid into.    

And since it’s from Viceco, you know it’s a product you can trust. We’ve been the pioneer in this field since 1986, coming from humble beginnings as the first company to throw sneakers over telephone wires in front of houses in South Central, signalling to folks where they could buy some rock.

So do yourself a favor and try the PT124 today! It’s the best product of its kind on the market, but don’t take my word for it; I’m a paid celebrity endorser with basically unlimited access to sex and drugs, so I have no real need for it.


damn your eyes. and your genitals.

Take a break, Skyler, I wanna talk to you about something. You know, I wasn’t always the warehouse manager of this fine furniture store. In fact, this may seem hard for you to believe, but it wasn’t that long ago that I was a lot like you, young man. Yep, out there on the loading bay with my hair falling down in my eyes, wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Just like you, I was always skulking around the stockroom, shoulders slouched, all suspicious-looking, like I was trying to scout out the least likely place to get caught masturbating on the job.

I had good times, but I was always broke. For a three-year stretch, I subsisted entirely on those cheese and peanut butter crackers. Every morning I’d steal ’em out of this guy Jim’s sack lunch in the break room. When I was a young buck like you, I’d ask my manager for more hours to try and make a little extra scratch, then show up for the early-morning truck delivery and just disappear for long stretches to sleep off my hangover.  I guess you could say I was a bit of a wild child. Any of this sound familiar?

I know what it’s like. I used to call in sick on Mondays and Fridays a lot too. I took a lot of long weekends, had some fun. Back in the day, I’d cross the border into Mexico, get a little wager going on some of the underground orphan deathmatches, come back with a broken arm because I couldn’t cover my losses.

Yeah, I was pretty troubled as a young man. But fortunately I outgrew it, just like you will one day. It took a while, but I got my life together, and you see the results standing before you today. Come to think of it, you and I are a little like a “before and after” photo, you know? These days, the best rush comes from an honest day’s pay and only drug I need is a little caffeine to get me going in the morning. Well, that and the occasional cigarette. Maybe a splash of grain alcohol. Hey, do you know where I could score some blow?


cue serious music

I spent a lot of time in hospitals as a kid. Kind of comes with the territory when your dad’s a preacher, ministering to the sick and whatnot. His duties kept him out late a lot of nights, and my mom’s main selling point was that it would be good for both of us if I accompanied him on his rounds a few nights a week. I realized early on, however, that the plan was born more out of necessity than any bonding opportunity: my mom had begun working nights and they didn’t know what else to do with me. It all served to confirm my growing suspicion that grown-ups didn’t have some magical knowledge to help them navigate the world; they just did what they needed to skate by, inventing the why after the fact to fit the what.

I came to this realization pretty abruptly one night while my dad was reading scripture to Mrs. Feeney, and when I did, a calming feeling washed over me and I stopped worrying about how the vinyl back of a chair in this waiting room wasn’t a very good surface to do my math homework on so it’s hard to focus and maybe that’s why my grades haven’t been so good this year.

It was a lesson that prepared me, perhaps uniquely, for the trials to come later in my life, and I sometimes think that some higher power- if not the God, at least a god- knew I would need the ability to shoulder burdens, often alone, without being overcome by them. Regardless of the origins, I’m glad I learned the skill, because about a month after my fourteenth birthday, I discovered that I had gigantic bat wings and the ability to start fires with my mind.


spicy latin justice

Today on Campbell Brown, RNC chair Michael Steele was referring to SCOTUS nominee Sonia Sotomayor’s alleged racism when he said, “God help you if you’re a white male”  and she’s sitting on your case.

Um, if you’re a white male, hasn’t God already helped you enough?

June 2009