Everybody knows this is nowhere

Well, I've actually had complaints that I haven't been writing nearly enough. No, I'm not talking about imagined throngs of fans eagerly checking my blog on a daily basis, wondering why I haven't posted my latest screed on pop culture, the media, or my most recent love letter to this girl. No, I haven't convinced myself that the Swedish bikini and fellatio team has been disappointed with my production of late, or that anyone's days have really been affected by my laziness. But a friend did tell me this weekend that I haven't been writing enough lately, a concept that a year ago I couldn't even have fathomed.

Over the first 6 months of the blog, I wrote a lot of posts. Too many posts, actually. Some were very bad. I'm sorry, actually. My bad. At any rate, as time went on and I got busier, I found myself spending more time writing about how I never wrote anymore than time writing more. Which, if it wasn't self flagellating and self pitying, would be sort of ironic.

The problem is a familiar one for me -- motivation. Do I want to succeed in writing? Yes. Do I want to be rich? Yes. Do I want to stop worrying about money and cease eating English muffins and rasberry jelly for breakfast? Well, no, because english muffins with rasberry jelly are delicious. Where was I?

I have found myself lost, comedically. My confidence in my jokes, both written and delivered, has waned recently. My stepbrother (who was 12 at the time) told me over the winter, rather bluntly, that I have "become much happier since I got a job and a girlfriend", which is definitely true. I have also become less funny, because my humor has always been a pure function of my dissatisfaction and anger. Sometimes at authority, sometimes at idiocy and lunacy, sometimes at the circumstances in which I found myself, and sometimes at myself. It was a thin line between self-loathing and self awareness which I perfected over the years and finally put to paper.

The point is, I'm back. I'm desperate for a reinvigorated sense of creativity, a new found desire to make fun of things. If it doesn't come naturally, I'm going to force it. Some would say that's a bit melodramatic and pompous, I say that I am about to undertake the greatest creative enterprise in the history of humanity since Mad Libs.

More gone than Freeman

All right folks, I'm heading home for the Christmas holidays. Posting will be sporadic, and probably not funny, because I'll be sleeping 12 hours a night and not getting much inspiration. Although the blog was much funnier when I was unemployed, so maybe my best stuff will come next week. Stay tuned!

However, before I sign off, I have to comment on one of the weirdest stories of the year, and in a year where the Vice President of the United States shot a man in the face, a disgruntled Yankee pitcher flew a plane into the Upper East Side, a Congressman was outed as a pedophile, and the Democrats won an election cycle, that's saying a lot.





What the eff is up with Donald Trump? Rosie O'Donnell makes some really stupid jokes about his hair and his moral failings and he absolutely launches into one of the most disgusting and abhorrent personal attacks that I have ever witnessed, referring to her as physically ugly, fat, disgusting, a failure and a loser. Then he said that he would send of his friends to steal away Rosie's girlfriend. Sigh.


I hope to God this is just an attempt to boost the ratings of their respective shows, The View and The Apprentice, and that the two of them entered into some sort of pact to bash each other in order to bring attention to themselves, because if not, well, Trump is an exponentially worse human being than I had ever previously thought. And that's saying a lot.


Merry Christmas!

Holy crap what a copout

Seriously?



Time Magazine has reached a new stratosphere of sycophancy, previously reserved for Larry King and James Lipton. I admit, it's kind of an off year, with the most notable American political leader having bug eyes, but seriously? That's three out of the past four years with this nebulous shit -- the American soldier, Good Samaritans, and now, you? You can't possibly mean me. I'm lazy, 15 pounds overweight and I write a blog.

Other finalists for Time's Person of the Year Award:

- Your Penis -- Yes, your penis. It's huge.
- Your abs -- have you been working out? I thought so. Yeah, it really shows.
- Your girlfriend -- she's hot. I am very envious of you and all the sex that you are able to have with her.
- Your recent presentation at work -- That killed! Mike and Bob loved it. Seriously, they did. Did you see how they were nodding and laughing at all the right times?

A Very Special Tuesday News Roundup

- Michael Richards, best known for his hilarious cameo in So I Married An Ax Murderer, apparently flipped the fuck out. While doing standup on Friday night in Los Angeles, he was heckled by two black guys, to which Richards inexplicable responded by calling them niggers and hearkening back to the 1950’s south. Bob Sacamano expressed deep disappointment.

- Fox cancelled the publishing of OJ Simpson’s confession book and TV special, citing an error in judgement in commissioning the project to begin with. Simpson, however, stands by murdering Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman.

- John Kerry has slipped in the polls for President in 2008 in the aftermath his verbal gaffe insulting American troops. He recently clarified it again, claiming he meant to say "you need to study hard, or else you'll run unsuccessfully for President, make a complete ass out of yourself, and then flail wildly trying to maintain relevance."