Mr. Brown,

Listen here, douche bag – Rihanna is an American treasure. You are an absolute scumbag and I’m personally disgusted with your conduct. I’ll begin this letter with some questions regarding the incident. First, who the hell are you receiving booty call texts from? You’re sitting in a fucking car with RIHANNA. Second, how come she’s the one that ended up getting her ass beaten? You jackass, you have to take a dive for that one – no excuses. Third,  what were you thinking? You can’t just go around leaving beautiful girls knocked out in parking lots. You have to be responsible for your actions/messes. What you have done can never be forgiven and I personally hope you spend time getting systematically raped by hundreds of gargantuan lunatics in jail. I also hope for her sake, your mother never crosses my path. The mother of the guy who beat up Rihanna will certainly get her comeuppance from me (probably in the form of unrelenting tickles and the occasional ass-slap – tame, but comeuppance, nevertheless).

The ultimate puss-cake.

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I’m a miserable human being. Each day feels a rape by samurai sword. I feel I can no longer express myself fully through ironic black t-shirts. Taproot’s latest CD isn’t selling very well. Chinese Democracy has lost a lot of its appeal for me. My current living situation with Roy is actually a little worse than what I expect hell to be like. My radio show is completely mediocre. I’ve had a cold for like 5 days. Basically, my life is over.

I just can’t take it anymore and have made the ultimate decision – to take my own life. This may come as a shock to some, but I feel it’s really the best course of action for myself and those around me. However, this has proven to be a lot more difficult than I originally planned. Lucky for me, Roy has been there every step of the way taking pictures.

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Hello everyone, or shall I say Bonjour? Why shalt I say Bonjour? Well, I’m on a bit of an overseas adventure right now. No, I’m not overseas, but I am out of my apartment. I just trekked the icy parking lot to my next door laundromat (a word that WordPerfect, evidently, considers misspelt unless the “l” is capitalized). You might remember DJ’s recent post which he composed at this very same establishment. DJ apparently gets very irritable whilst in the laundromat and his “ruminations” ended up being an on-point rant about John Tesh (who, I agree, stinks). What will the laundromat have me come up with as far as blog posts? Well, lets see:

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I’m sure you heard through the ol’grapevine that the Swedes were creating a black hole in an underground labortory this week. For those who didn’t get the memo: it’s true. No, I’m not just presenting the plot to some James Bond movie as fact. This is what real humans thought would be a keen idea, creating a black hole in some bunker. What’s the worst that could happen? I’ll give you a hint, it starts with “Eradication” and ends with “of the human race”. B-I-N-G-O. Bingo, my man. You guessed it. Creating a black hole would kill everyone.

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