It’s quiet out there. Too quiet. Dust devils spin like drunken dervish dancers and scraggly tumbleweeds cartwheel through desolate streets. You lean back on your chair outside the front door of Miss Kitty’s and listen to the tinkling honky tonk piano, waiting for something, anything, to happen. A red headed stranger appears out of nowhere, riding bareback on a lean and hungry, spotted feral mustang named Cassius.

A month or so ago I was feeling queasy, and my wife brought home some Gatorade in case I starting throwing up all over the place. Thankfully, I didn’t throw up, but I drank the Gatorade anyway. It claimed to be “Fierce Grape” flavored, but it tasted like regular old docile grape to me.

You know what’s truly scary? The fact that the birth control pill is only 99.9% effective. Wait, that means that one in a thousand times I should get pregnant anyway, right? That’s not really very heartening. If I entered a contest to win a car and the odds were one in a thousand, I would think, hey, I’ve got a pretty decent chance of winning this car. Except that car is an unwanted fetus!

OMG I am so excited that KING J.J. Abrams is going to direct STAR WARS. I’m a little late on this news because I’ve been busy moving from my parents’ basement into the guest house I built out of their shed.
For those who aren’t FANS of Star Trek 2009 (ugh, just kill yourselves), let me give you a complete summary so you can really understand how grate this classic is.

Hey guys, here’s a tip: When you’re out in public, it’s probably not a good idea to monologue about the kinds of women you find unattractive, especially when you’re grouping women into broad ethnic or national categories. It makes you sound like a racist, insensitive ass. And if I hear about it, I’ll probably make a comic out of it.