To Robert Schimmel…

Robert Schimmel was a comedian who spent a good deal of his later career talking about his experience with cancer. It was great to hear him discuss such an issue with as an open discussion as possible. He was as hilarious as he was sad. I had the great fortune of seeing him perform in Tampa last year. He was a master of his craft.

He passed away Friday in a tragic car accident. Perhaps that was our creator’s big joke. The man survived such a horrific cancer ordeal, only to be ended in a car accident. Here is to you, fine sir.

Mr. Robert Schimmel (9/2010)

Baseball players love the juice…

I once watched a documentary that argued the pros of allowing athletes the ability of using steroids in a legal environment. They said that if Tiger Woods was allowed to enhance his vision with lacik eye treatment, thus improving his sight and overall abilities in the game, why can’t other athletes use steroids to improve their abilities? After all, steroids have never actually killed anyone. No one has ever overdosed using steroids. Perhaps some crazy girlfriends have been the victim of “roid-rage” but that’s really about it.

So what is the big deal about baseball players using the juice? Why does everyone care so much? I don’t watch or like sports, yet, for some reason, I see on the news all the time. For years. It never ends. Let them get their big-muscles-small-penis and be done with it.

Juicy Fruit is gonna move ya (8/2010)

You shouldn’t be mad at that anyway. What you should be mad at is the fact that they make millions upon millions of dollars to play a simple game. While you and I make nothing for actual work.

Wait a second… I’m unemployed. So never mind.

Which leads me to another question… you are getting paid quite a lot of money to play a game. Why mess your body up with steroids? You can sit the bench for an entire game and still get paid tons of money. Why mess your body up? Your salary is awesome regardless.

Hot or Not: Megan Fox?

For the record, I would like to get it out there and say what you want to say; what your penis is trying to say but can’t because you’ve clouded its judgment. Megan Fox, star of such hideously awful films as the Transformer franchise and Jennifer’s Body, is fucking disgusting. Pardon my language but it had to be said. She is a very unattractive person. But the world says, “No way! You are fucking crazy!” Only I say, “No way brosef, I am not.” I would not have sex with her using your penis.

No Love for Optimus Prime (8/2010)

There is something about her that just scares me off. Maybe it’s the hint of herpes that resonates on her lips. Or her awful taste in movie selection (which proves to me quite simply that she hasn’t the skills of a third-grade reading level). I hate to say it but I like girls who can read. I also like girls who have regular size thumbs. Not thumbs that are bigger than a midget.

Now I leave the decision to you, the fine people of America. What do you think about this hideous beast of sexually transmitted disease?

And if you use them, please feel free to Digg us! We need all the help we can get.

Shaking Hands with a Dead Man (The Dennis Hopper Letter)

Dear Dennis Hopper,

A few years ago, I used to be what some would call a “journalist.” I put that dirty word in quotations because I mostly wrote for online publications that no one really gives a shit about. We all know what the internet has done to “journalism” right? Nothing good. But it was during that time that we met. You probably forgot the encounter minutes after it happened. I never will. It was in June of 2006, when some people actually cared about the words I wrote.

I was at the closing party at the CineVegas Film Festival (obviously located in Las Vegas, Nevada). Taylor Hackford was there with his wife Helen Mirren. I think she won an Oscar the following year for something.

Cigars for Hopper (6/2010)

Anyway, I had to leave the party around midnight because I had to catch the redeye back to Orlando. It would be the last time I would ever travel for a film festival. I was walking out to find my ride, down a long corridor hallway at the Hard Rock Casino. I saw you standing there and I pondered what to say for a while.

I’ve met many celebrities I couldn’t give a shit about. You were different. I was/am an¬†enormous fan of yours. Easy Rider changed my life. That was the first film I ever saw that said, “Fuck your cinematic traditions and let’s get real.”

I think you had a cigar in your mouth. You were waiting for someone too. What could I say to you? Should I ask about what it was like to rock and roll with James Dean during the filming of Giant? Perhaps I could tell you that My Science Project is one of the most underrated 80s flicks this side of the Monster Squad. Or that I secretly hate Blue Velvet even though I love you in it. You’re the only thing good about Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 and you added a great deal of class to an otherwise mediocre action ride (Speed). I almost pictured myself saying, “I loved you in True Romance and Super Mario Bros.

I didn’t say any of that. I just introduced myself. You were friendly. Asked me if I liked the festival. I did. I loved it. Vegas is a great town. We shook hands. I felt like the Terminator at the end of Terminator 2, shaking hands with Sarah Connor before lowering myself into the steel. And that was that.

Now you’re gone. So it goes.

I hate that you’re no longer here. You’ve had such a huge impact on me over the years. You’ve affected my general attitude and my overall feelings towards the Hollywood machine. You’re one of the reasons I hate so many films.

Hopefully the next time we meet, we can rock a drink. Then the two of us can team up and punch Brett Ratner in the face.

So it goes.


Dear Britney Spears (Part III: Return to Sender),

Hey girl, how have you been? It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you last. Did you ever get those other letters I sent you?

Regardless, I’d say you’ve been doing pretty good. It’s been a good while since you flashed your disgustingly flappy, I mean beautiful, vagina to anyone standing in your direction. It also seems you finally invested in some child seats for your car too. Maybe they are too old for child seats nowadays?

But the purpose of this letter isn’t really to bore you with details of my own life or to even question my knowledge of how you’ve been. No, not this one. Now I simply want to ask you a few questions – questions people have asked me about you – in order to clean the air about what people are quesstimating about you. I’d rather they know the truth Britany. You’re worth it. Your music is just that good. Remember when Dirk Diggler recorded the immortal “You Got the Touch”¬†in Boogie Nights? He doesn’t have shit on you. Well, maybe… you see, Dirk never got the money to pay for his tapes. So he could never release them to the public. But trust him; his shit was that good. You guys would’ve been nominated for the same Grammy.

“‘Where did we go wrong?’ (Parents for Britney)” (April, 2010)

Enough of that. On to my questions!

  • Did you see Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire? Truly a great film but I couldn’t help wondering how much of that film was based on your life. Or am I confusing you with Jessica Simpson? I can’t remember which celebrity had the dad who wanted to have sex with them.
  • You and Justin Timberlake haven’t been together in a while but since your tragic end, you are upset that he turned out to be funnier than you? His “Dick in a Box” appearance was classically funny! Oh, did you not love him in Black Snake Moan or were you upset that he was all up on Christina Ricci’s sweet treats? I met her once in Vegas… she wasn’t a very nice person. You’re a lot funnier!
  • One of my friends asked what your fuck-digit was. I told them it has to be just 2… you’ve publicly admitted to losing your precious virginity to Justin Timberlake back in the day (even after you told millions of your fans to stay true until marriage). And obviously you banged K-Fed (since his seed made it all the way to your delicious eggs on numerous occasions). Could it be more? That’s just a ridiculous thought to me. Who would sleep with you? Wait. I mean, ha. Well, you know.

I think that’s about it. To be honest, I actually forgot what the rest of this letter said or even what the point of it all was. I drafted it over a year ago. Perhaps that is the point of it all… it’s been some time since I’ve actually seen you anywhere. I guess that leads to one last ultimate question.

Where the fuck you been?

Hugs and Kisses,


P.S. Here are the other letters I wrote to you have failed to respond to. Are we not friends anymore?

Spears I
Spears II

Anna Faris’ Crazy Plastic Lip…

Some people do shit to their body that is completely unacceptable. Others do shit that is acceptable. For example, the single mother stripper who needs a new set of tits, because years of child births sagged them things down and no respectable wife-cheating business man wants to throw down money on saggy boobs. They simply do it out of need. If their boobs don’t pass the test, no one will make it rain for them.

Anna Faris does not fall into this category. She was perfectly fine a few years ago. Everything was good. Sure, she is no Meryl Streep as far as acting is concerned, but she isn’t fucking as emotionless as Summer Glau for testicular sake. She seems to land about 2 movies a year and has no problem doing so.

So what the fuck happened to her lip?

I tried watching House Bunny (a sure-fire Oscar contender) and I couldn’t look past it. What happened to her top lip man? Does she have a leprechaun punch her every morning before work or did she actually get work done?


Move Over, Julia Roberts (4/2009)

Hot or Not: Kiera Knightley?

I bet even the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz wouldn’t even want any of this action. Why doesn’t someone throw this bitch a donut? Or a taco? Or an Oreo? And for fuckballs sake, keep her fingers away from her throat! Look what’s happening to her!


The Fruits of Kiera Knightley (3/2009)

I saw Domino in theaters a couple years back. I remember a scene where our beloved Kiera became topless. At the time, I was too shocked to cover my eyes. It was a horrifying sight – like looking in on a dressing room full of 10 year-old boys changing before a baseball game. I think I have bigger boobs than her. So does my mailbox. Why do people want to penetrate her?