Hey kiddies! Uncle Chach-nof-ski has returned! For the record, I’d like to say that my L.L. Cool J-esque comeback has nothing to do with that terminally ill child who promised to stop writing me three letters a day if I started regular contribution again. I know that after the Michael Jackson/Farrah Fawcett/Cory Lidle thing no one can stand more bad news. Unfortunately, his Chachness has one more vine of sour grapes. Trent Reznor, the front man of your favorite band when you were in the seventh grade, has deleted his Twitter account!

According to Rolling Stone, “Prior to the deletion, Reznor talked about ditching Twitter because, simply, ‘Idiots rule.’ As Reznor reiterated in his NIN.com post, it was the trolling that made Twitter insufferable for him and caused the sudden end of @trent_reznor.”

Probably too old for Twitter anyway…

I realize that we haven’t heard the sweet tweetings of our gallant Trent since the tail end of July, but panic you should not! As a long time fan and stalker of Trent, I, the Great Chachámaron am here to catch you (yes even you in the XXL black Downward Spiral tee with the eleven stupid bracelets) up on his daily murmurings.

Some people say Wheaties is the breakfast of champions. I jerk off to David Bowie’s Laborynth every morning! Nothing ever Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes!
9:06 AM from TweetDeck

Remember when I had to like Johnny Cash’s cover of my song “hurt” just because he was dying? Yikes. Our version was way better.
12:21 PM from TweetDeck

God I love PETA. NIN stopped touring because I couldn’t bear to look at all the fans wearing fur anymore.
1:58 PM from TweetDeck

I lied. The real reason we stopped is that Perry Farrell filled my hotel room with blind men from Match.com last time we played Jersey.
3:34 PM from TweetDeck

The woman at the table next to me is eating the most delicious looking lamb! God I hate PETA!
6:41 PM from TweetDeck

Ah! Nothing like a warm cup of Earl Grey and a huge shot of heroin after a long day.
7:38 PM from TweetDeck

Even though Cody Chestnut does look good in leather, I’d prefer he didn’t wear leather as much as he does. I mean what about PETA?
9:01 PM from TweetDeck

Nevermind. I’m watching him on YouTube and he looks damn good in leather. But Cody’s the only exception. Don’t any of you get any leather ideas!
9:03 PM from TweetDeck

Wow. I’m almost too tired to listen to Ziggy Stardust and touch myself before I fall asleep. Goodnight Moon!
10:10 PM from TweetDeck

Dear Billy Corgan,

Let me just start by saying that bald is (and has always been) the new pony tail. It’s a killer look, especially for you. So I hear you’re looking for a new drummer. Must be tough! Well how about some good news Mr. Melancholy? I’m not going to ask you to step off your high horse and extend the equestrian invitation to join your band. This is me swallowing, no, choking down my pride, to tender your offer to be the newest drummer of the Smashing Pumpkins! And I can shout with the utmost of confidence that today is in fact the greatest day, you and I have ever known.

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So Madonna is planning to adopt another kid from Malawi. Unbelievable! If anyone needs a little TLC it’s Uncle Chachi. I mean Christ, it’s not like these kids are dodging bullets or eating out of dumpsters on a daily basis. If I have my facts straight, their whole life is one huge game of intramural soccer. Anyway, if you’re reading this Madonna, here are the top ten reasons you should select to adopt me, the Baron Von Chachska, instead of another boring Malawi snoozefest:

1. The water in Africa is cleaner than the water in Philadelphia. While Simba erotically washes Nala in majestic jungle streams, I am forced shower in my neighbor’s fecal matter on a daily basis.
2. I’m a way bigger fan of yours than any Malawian child. I rocked “Dress You Up In My Love” so hard that I was voted junior prom queen in the seventh grade.
3. I smell worse than the entire nation of Malawi. I’m sure the African child of your choice doesn’t exactly carry the scent of freshly picked petunias, but I make the homeless smell like freshly squeezed lemon.
4. I only pick my nose sometimes.
5. I appreciate the “Ray of Light” music video in ways they will never understand.
6. My breakfast talents cannot be matched. Go ahead and choose another African kid. Hope you fancy burnt eggs with a side steel toast. Bon Appetite!
7. I don’t eat bugs
8. I’m vaccinated. Wouldn’t want the princess of pop catching polio would we?
9. I hear there’s a promo poster for Lock Stock & Two Smoking Barrels hanging in the Malawi embassy. Fuck Guy Ritchie!
10. I do a great Jack Nicholson impersonation. Oh and I’m sure your Malawi wonder boy does a kiler Brando…

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Who is Barry Popkin? You mean you don’t know! He’s the director of the obesity center at the University of Carolina (which means he probably looks like the offspring of Roseanne Barr and a skyscraper). Papa Popkin recently preformed a study (no, not breakfast) that yielded startling results. Hold onto your hats kids, because the Chach-nooka and he who loves it when you call him big Popkin are about to rock your world.

I’m not convinced. Here’s a picture of my breakfast. – DJ

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Try as I might, I haven’t been able to teach the Chach-meister to write a proper introduction to his posts. So I’m doing it for him:

I’m a die hard Trident guy. Always have been and always will be. You know why? They have three flavors (with a few twists and limited editions) and they all rock – original, peppermint and cinnamon. I know exactly what I’m getting with each one – two cold, one hot and they can all be chewed for the duration of an eight hour shift at whatever dead-end job I’m working.

In recent years the candy market has seen a flood of new gums – 5, Eclipse (in regular and Big E pack form), and perhaps most notoriously, Orbit. Orbit is basically the hipster answer to Trident. It has similarly shaped sticks and the packaging is pretty close in nature (open a flap to reveal gum). Orbit has a problem classic Trident doesn’t have: too many damn flavors. Did you know Sangria Fresca, Strawberry Mint, Maui Melon Mint, Crystal Mint (tastes like Gelfling essence), and fucking Clove are all actual flavors of Orbit? I didn’t, partly because I don’t care and mostly because I’m a man of principle. If I throw a stick of gum in my mouth it better damn well make my breath fresh and cool as a mountain breeze, not give me sugar mouth and cause me to vomit uncontrollably.

For those that don’t know, Chachi lives in a ghetto in Philly. Ghettos and colleges are where all the experiments go down – crack and AIDS in the ghetto, sugar free Redbull and HPV vaccines at colleges. Both are testing grounds for Orbit gum. Chachi grabbed five awful flavors from Philly and I grabbed five awful flavors from New Paltz. I’ll let Chacherino take it from here…

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As many of you have probably already heard, Chris Brown has given a whole new meaning to Rihanna’s hit single “S.O.S.” Unfortunately, no one at the scene allowed Rihanna to stand under their umbrella while Brown inflicted a thunderstorm of a beating. Allow me to be clear. I, the Chachanooga, am crestfallen that someone has hindered production of whatever new song will rule my every brainwave for the next 9-12 months. In fact, the track “Please Don’t Stop the Music” was based off a piece of fan-mail composed by mois. However in terms of career moves, Chris Brown has hit the nail on the head. Here are five reasons why Brown’s refusal to “Shut Up and Drive” was the best idea ever:

2009: The year of the Douche (it’s a Ne-Yo joke, get it?)

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So get this! I was running from a crazy woman who was wearing suspenders and violently waving a toothbrush in my direction. Ducking into an alley, I hid behind a dumpster full of used needles. While crouching on my hands and knees in terror, I noticed a crumpled piece of paper lying next to a corpse about three feet away. To my astonishment, I discovered it was the bucket list of no other than Samuel “Screech” Powers, beloved sitcom buffoon.

He is doing NOTHING to reach any of these goals. – DJ

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