Great Moments in Fat History: The McGangBang

In the grease-stained annals of fat history, very few food items exemplify necessity-as-mother-of-invention quite like The McGangBang.

You see, for the truly devoted, even an historic economic downturn is no reason to board-up the feed trough.

A real saturated fat sycophant will find a way to eat more with less.

The Corpulence Express (passenger service to Adult Onset Diabetesville) will not be derailed.

Not on their watch.

So with $2.16 and a handful of Krackle Bar wrappers in their pocket, they slowly mount their freshly-charged fat scooter and set their course for fatty spendthrift Mecca: the McDonald's Value Menu.

What they come up with is equal parts disgusting and Girl Talk mash-up innovation:



The McGangBang.

An entire McChicken Sandwich slid in-between the all-beef patties of a double cheeseburger.

800 calories. 39 grams of fat. Again, all for $2.16 and whatever dignity you have left.

Truly, another Great Moment in Fat History.

For an extensive bio on the origins of the McGangBang, check out Eat Me Daily.

Friday Funk: Pete Philly & Perquisite

Holland's best hip hop export.


Hope f/ Talib Kweli



Third Degree


Mellow

Phun with Fotos: Adventures in Derogatory Daguerrotype

Ready for a bombshell? People get old.

This isn't news. Not really. It's been happening for as long as there've been people. Not that this dissuades the press any from gleefully scribbling inch after inch of gossip columns pointing this simple fact out. Although, in their defense, it's not like they necessarily feel the need to hide paparazzo in the bushes outside Carla T. Bumwipe's trailer on the outskirts of Rising Gorge, Arkansas, hoping to catch a few snaps of the increasingly-wrinkled hostess in her housecoat and curlers. No, they definitely go after deserving targets: Spotlight-seeking, appearance-obsessed celebrity types who whore themselves for the cameras their whole miserable lives. That is, until they start to show the normal wear and tear we all do, at which point they begin to realize the folly of their ways. Because summoning attention is easy. Getting rid of it when you don't want it? Ay, THERE'S the rub.

The latest attention-magnet who likely wishes she'd never sought out the spotlight is Madonna Louise Ciccone Alotta Fagina Fusilli D'Artagnian Marinara con Carne, better known simply by her stage name of, "Madonna."

Madonna (a.k.a., "Madonna").

Madonna can be said to be an "entertainer," but only in the loosest sense. She kinda sings. She dances, in a way. But her real appeal has always been physical. Madonna is considered "attractive" by many conventional standards, even now, and even though she is fifty years old.

It's not as though she's not aware of this fact. Heavens, no. She's always traded pretty heavily on her sex-kitten image, being as she herself even realizes that she isn't very talented in a musical sense.

Twenty years on, and "vogue" STILL isn't a verb.

In the early part of her career, she made no bones about her carefree sexual exploits. She dated notorious Lothario types like Warren Beatty. Her videos had her writhing around on beds, vamping it up in peep-show booths, and generally wearing next to nothing but strategically-torn fishnet, ace bandages, and eyeliner. She even came out with an infamous coffee-table book called "Sex," featuring photos of her wearing even less than that. And a repressed culture lapped it up.

However, as Madonna's idol Marylin Monroe once said, "Sooner or later, gravity catches up with all of us." And so Madonna has been doing a whole lot of not much except aging lately. And, to her credit, she's mostly been doing it very well. To the point where the preder-azzi have been working 'round the clock trying to catch the odd snap of her simply busy with the act of being elderly. Largely, they've had to content themselves with pictures like this:


Okay, fine. So she looks a little oldER. But she far from looks like shit. She might be old enough to be a grandma, but she'd still be the hottest grandma on the block.

Oh, wait...She's leaving her house again! Quick, to the Dick-Mobiles!


CHRIST. Where does she get off looking like a well-preserved cougar at your dad's company Christmas Party? That's not gonna sell tabloids, assholes! Better Get a little more on the stick, you shitheads.

Uh-oh. I got a tip that Madonna's leaving the gym! Away, away, my flying monkeys!


"For fuck's sake, Parker! I don't pay you incredibly-generous freelance pittances to give me pictures where she just looks a little TIRED. Everyone looks that way when they leave the health club! I want SCANDAL! Scandal is what sells papers! I-"

"Pull back a little, Mr. Jameson."

"Well, I hardly see what THAT has to do with -"

"Just...Do it, sir."

"Okay, Parker, I'll humor you."

"Please do."

"Oh...OH my GOD..."


"Here's your check, Parker. Now please...If you see that out on the street again...Kill it. Kill it with FIRE."

"Yes, Mr. Jameson."

Personally, I don't know what's worse...Aging gracefully, fighting it and winding up with arms that look like the losing entry at the County Fair taffy-pulling contest, or living in a culture where it matters one way or the other WHAT we choose.

All I do know is that I will see Madonna in my nightmares. I just hope I wake up before she finishes strangling me with those repulsive, veiny tentacles of hers.

Bill Brasky once killed a bear that tried to break into his house…

Maybe those 2nd Amendment zealots aren't so far off after all:

Click here for story

Gun control will do nothing but leave honest, hard-working Americans completely susceptible to bear attacks. You hear that? Bears. Now you're putting the whole country at risk.

Diary Decree: The law according to the Diary, as governed after our inevitable world takeover.

Diary Decree #1

To stem abuse, the exclamation point will stop working on all keyboard devices after 3 in a row.

Therefore things can only be 1. exciting (burritos!) 2. really exciting (it's a boy!!) or 3. super exciting (she's not pregnant!!!)

The Case to Prosecute George W. Bush, as Made by George W. Bush

"Our entire system of justice relies on people telling the truth. And if a person does not tell the truth, particularly if he serves in government and holds the public trust, he must be held accountable."

- George W. Bush, 2007, on his refusal to pardon Scooter Libby - Dick Cheney's former Chief of Staff - for obstruction and perjury charges related to the leak of the identity of CIA officer Valerie Plame

Weekend Wake-up Call: Health Care

By Blaine Fridley, MD

The "debate" (read: political pissing match - "Red Team's best! No, Blue Team's best! {slapfight}) has ramped-up over the last few months.

(Above)Republicans and Democrats debate healthcare reform.

And during that time, a lot - A LOT - of bullshit has been disseminated over the cable news networks (nice change of pace, yeah?) about the best health care option for our country.

In the end, it boils down to minor differences between the Red and Blue Teams on just how, exactly, they'll continue to allow the insurance bullies to steal our lunch money.

Obama's plan is less of a relief from said bullies than a mandate to give in to them - ie "everybody has to have it." No word yet on how the poorest of the working poor plan on obtaining the money to do that. Obama has casually and cryptically mentioned some sort of government assistance with that, just not any real ideas.

The Republican ideas are just as bad, but they lack the President's (admittedly effective) egalitarian language.

Their-ahem-differences, though, have inspired painfully hilarious remarks like this bellylaffer from the King of Comedy, RNC Chair Michael Steele:

BAAAaHAHAHAHAHA! Motherfucker doesn't even waste 1 second on set-up, he goes straight for the big yuks from the moment he opens his mouth:

"We don't allow one man to roll the dice with our entire nation"

Allow me to retort:

Per usual, about the only person thinking and speaking logically about this from within our government is Ohio congressman Dennis Kucinich (the man who could be president if we could all just resist the urge to pinch his cheeks, tussle his hair and carry him around in our pocket, periodically feeding him Pepperridge Farm Goldfish).

He recently proposed an amendment to the healthcare bill giving individual states the right to create their own single-payer system if there's public support for it. And, as you'll see in this interview with DemocracyNow!'s Amy Goodman (the best g-damn journalist alive) there is plenty.

The Consumer Advocate with Merton and Barry

Stinky balls got you down?

Then check out this gem.

Yeah, we at the DoF were all pretty excited by this major development in the stinky ass/ball sack/ABC field. Just kidding. We were in a state of catatonic disbelief for...about five seconds. Then, after a quick hand-to-balls-to-nose sniff test, we regained our composure and began an (admittedly short) email thread in much the same way that any of our ideas start out. Take it away, Reno:

Reno:
http://www.nodoro.com/

HUzzah

Merton:
Hooray. FDS for dudes.

Maybe it's just me, but has the "shower regularly/slap on a little cornstarch" method been THAT thoroughly discredited? I mean, yeah...By the time I go to bed, maybe the boys are a little pungent, but I can't recall the last time someone had to pull me aside to gingerly inform me that I was rocking some overpowering fruit-basket rot. And besides...I've plunged head-first into the promised land of dozens and dozens of ladies who have been goodly enough to lift the velvet rope on the mid-town tunnel. And their own personal bouquets have ranged from "eerily nonexistent" all the way to "weapons-grade musk," but it's not like once the green light is burning, even VISIBLE aroma is a deal-killer. At that point, I have an important job I've been entrusted with, and it's in my best interest to see it through regardless of whether the working conditions are OSHA-approved or not. Especially if it's a worksite I'd like to be invited back into in the future. So, on the flippy, I can't necessarily see the jig being up if there happens to be a wee bit of an edge to the olfactory side of the experience when it's your turn. By the time she notices any sort of atmospheric shift, I'd hope that she's already pretty much decided she likes you.

That said, I don't take any chances personally. Especially on the occasion of my heading out to plant my flag on a hitherto-unfamiliar summit. I make sure Ground Zero is buffed, polished, and sportin' a definite showroom shine, and take steps to ensure that the window between peak hygiene and The Reveal is as compact as possible. That's just common courtesy.

Barry:
Personally, I like to knock out at least three of her five senses with a little vodka before we get betwixt the sheets, preferably vision, smell, and feeling...but really, any three will work.

"I can't feel anything."
"That's because you're drunk, you dirty, dirty whore."

~fin~

Friday Funk: Plej

Also filed under Hot Sh!t.

Reno grapples the Hogan Family (and comes up with more than Sandy Duncan's Glass Eye.)

For many of my formative years, I religiously watched Professional Wrestling. I admit that now, because I think it probably explains a lot of what's wrong with me. Maybe because I pile-drive danger and suplex injustice, I don't know. But mostly because I enjoy a spectacle.

So trust me when I say I know a little bit about Terry Bollea, aka Hulk Hogan.

See, Hulk was your prototypical hero type. Right down to the hair-jostling of little kids as he made his way to the ring with "I am a real American" piping through the stadium sound system.



God bless the '80s.

Anyhow, he obviously captured the hearts of many.

So when his wrestling days finally began to dwindle, it wasn't a Bakula-like quantum leap to see him continue his 'Leg-Drop' on the the American small screen with his VH1 show, "Hogan Knows Best."

I watched it. The first season, I even thought...well this dude actually seems legit. (Maybe even 2 legit 2 quit?) After the first season or so, he was bestowed with 2007's Father of the Year in June of that year, complete with a huge ceremony and everything.

...and from there is why I bother to write about Professional Wrestling, or any Wrestler at all.

Like pouring salt on a wayward slug, the standing ovations over Terry Bollea "The Hero" apparently shriveled the former Hulk into his original state faster than anabolic steroids shriveled the balls of his former competitors.

June 2007- Terry Bollea "Hulk Hogan" Named Father of the Year.

August 27, 2007- Hulk's son, Nick Hogan is in a serious car crash with friend and former Marine, John Graziano. Nick Hogan's Yellow Supra, as you can see in the file photo is fucking wrecked. A few weeks before, he had this to say about his prized "pussy magnet."

"The yellow Supra and yellow Viper are pussy magnets for sure. I mean, the green and the silver

appeal more to men, ’cause a guy knows what he’s looking at and will drool over it. But girls see the yellow, and panties start dropping off."

Classy, for sure.

November 7, 2007 - Nick Hogan is arrested and charged with reckless driving involving serious bodily injury, use of a motor vehicle in the commission of a felony, a person under the age of 21 operating a vehicle with a breath-alcohol level of .02 or higher and having an illegal window tint. It is now known that passenger John Graziano will never fully recover, and according to court documents, “the most Graziano can hope for is to open and shut his eyes periodically.”

November 20, 2007- Reports surface that Nick Hogan, Linda Hogan (Hulk's wife) and Brooke Hogan (Hulk's daughter) are featured on a 2005 underground DVD titled "Vehicular Lunatics."
Not exactly great evidence of sound parenting.


November 24, 2007- Linda Hogan files for divorce from Hulk Hogan. Good month, so far.

February 28th, 2008- Christiane Plante alleges an ongoing affair with Hulk Hogan, dating back to at least 2007, during taping of 'Hulk Knows Best.' Plante worked on Brooke's 2006 album.

March 2008-Then things get...really...really creepy.

This is Nick Hogan.












This is Linda's new 19 year old boyfriend, Charlie Hill. Charlie is a grade older than Nick. They went to the same school. How sweet.















On left is Brooke Hogan, kissing Hulk. On Right, is Jennifer McDonald, Hulk's new flame. Yes, those are actually two different people.






















Even a vile blogger such as myself hates to point out incestuous innuendo, but then this photograph was leaked. That's...not Jennifer McDonald.

I am a real American. Fight for what's right for every man?

Yeah. that's...his daughter. I'm sorry. But no way am I ever lathering the soft side of my future daughters, no matter the SPF, no matter the ozone depletion we're sure to have. Sorry honey, you'll have to do your own crotch.

May 2008- Nick Hogan is sentenced to 8 months in jail.

Jailhouse conversations between Nick and Hulk are leaked, which include Nick and Hulk insinuating John Graziano's "negativeness" was a major contributor to his current state.

This state.










Not Nick going over 60 in a 40, street racing, and being under the influence. It probably was John's negativity. He really had it coming.

October 21, 2008- Nick is released from jail, 3 months early. PARTY!!!!!!!!! No word on if the soulless Hogans tried to use Graziano's forehead to bong a beer.

March 2009- Brooke poledances at the Calle Ocho festival. The Beav-shot is always a classy way to kick off a new album.


April 15, 2009- Hulk Hogan, when speaking of his ex-wife Linda utters the words "I totally understand OJ. I get it." Always a good way to get public opinion on your side. To sympathize with a murderer.


May 24, 2009- A public feud between Linda and Brooke becomes even more hilarious when Linda drops this little nugget.

"[If] Brooke continues to spew lies on behalf of her father’s lame attempt to distance himself from the reality that he is no different from the homicidal OJ Simpson, [Linda's new boyfriend] will be forced to put aside his paramedic/firefighting career path and release an album called ‘Redemption’ which will easily surpass any of Brooke’s records sales."

Oh snap, Momma is gonna have her little boy have a record that sells...like 5 copies. Worst. Threat. Ever.

July 21, 2009- Brooke Hogan's album "Redemption" is dropped. This is the cover art. For real.


How rare is it that a family is all ugly, virile villains? Shit, even the Jacksons have Janet.

(and yes, I did write this entire post just for a reason to post that picture.)

The Jo Bro Horoscope

Astrology is based on the idea that human behavior and feelings are influenced by the planets and stars. These same behaviors and feelings are also influenced by pop music lyrics. For example, I am moved every time I hear lyrics to a Jonas Brother’s song. I’m usually moved to another room but that’s beside the point. So, whilst the Moon, Mercury and Venus are all aligned together with Kevin’s tall and strategically placed hair, Joe’s cosmic aura, and Nick’s celestial tight pants, a profound philosophical understanding of Jo Bro lyrics is reached. A nirvana, if you will. It has inspired the Jo Bros Horoscope.

Aries – Don't want ya for a weekend. Don't want ya for a night. I'm only interested if I can have you for life (Yeah). I know I sound serious and baby I am. You're a fine piece of real estate. And I'm gonna get me some land.

Taurus - Love showed up at your door yesterday. It might sound cheesy, but you wanted her to stay. You fell in love with the pizza girl. Now you eat pizza every day.

Gemini –Open the fridge. Eat a chicken. Wassup! Oooh. 7/11 might be down the street. Beatboxin' with my two feet. When I was born I walked out of the room, I was like "ptchh brrrrrup." My mom was like "Yo that's crazy." And I was like "Yeah, I'm a baby."

Cancer – You daydream through freshman math. She fills out her college apps. You’ll show her a world where you belong. But she’ll have to drive you to the prom.

Leo – Yo! I'm so hot just like a tamale. So destructive just like a tsunami. Every time I'm near the Red Cross is there. 'Cause that's how I be doin' things.

Virgo - One day when you came home at lunchtime, you heard a funny noise. Went out to the back yard to find out if it was one of those rowdy boys. Stood there with your neighbor Cow Peter, and a Flux Capacitor. You've been to the year 3000. Not much has changed but they lived under water.

Libra – Young hearts. I believe you are not far from becoming who you truly are. Love is on its way. Dreamers you see everything in color while the world is getting darker. Love is on its way. So hold on another day. Whoo. Whoo. Boppity bop.

Scorpio - Don’t forget to hold back your thoughts and live like robots.

Sagittarius - Why do I feel like a freak? Maybe cause you are a such a geek. Come Now Come now. Gimme Gimme Gimme Gimme u suck cause i rule i act like you are cool but u drool. you make love with a toilet filled with drugs. u suck oh, poo poo.

Capricorn - American Dragon, American Dragon, American Dragon. YOW!!!!

Aquarius - I want a hippopotamus for Christmas. A hippopotamus is all i want. I don't want a dog or rhinoceros. All i want for Christmas is a hippopotamus. And a hippopotamus wants me too

Pisces – There’s a man dying on the side of the road. He won’t make it home tonight.

They Took Our Jobs!

Your Headlines for July 22, 2009

Entertainment
4-hour Televised Award Show Set to Honor the Year's Best Televised Award Shows
Espy, Oscar, Grammy and more battle for top honors at 11th annual Circle Jerk Awards
Plus: Could this finally be the year for the GSN Game Show Awards?

Nation

Facebook Profile puts Sotomayor's Confirmation in Question

Sen. Phil Specter: "Her breadth of work is impressive, but… Coldplay? Really? I dunno, man…"

StyleWatch!

Who Wore it Better?

Jesus - 41%

Nas - 59% Winner!

Madea Love the Kids!

I know it may seem ludicrous, but Tyler Perry (he of House of Payne, Madea's Class Reunion, Madea's Family Reunion, Madea Goes to Jail and other assorted trash) has actually done something worthwhile.

Seriously.

No punch line a-comin'.

As you know, we here at the DoF never spare the snark, sass, flack and/or guff when it comes to lambasting pop culture ass clowns.

And Tyler Perry - thanks to his stereotypical, formulaic and oppressively omnipresent shite - has definitely been spared none of the above in our brief history.

That said, he is also incredibly awesome.

Several weeks ago, you may have heard about a private Philadelphia swim club turning away a group of black and Latino daycare kiddies, despite the fact that the day care had already payed the $1,950 for the kids to be there.

Seems nobody in Philadelphia got the memo that Obama defeated racism and it's a "post-racial"* society now.

*dumbest term ever.

Apparently, fearing that the "coloreds" might cause a day of Lilly-white poolside leisure to blow-up in gang violence, they where shown the door by club President John Duesler, who, in interviews with Philly TV stations, explained the kids had "changed the complexion" and "atmosphere" of the club.

Wow.

Quite the Dukian slip there, Johnny-boy.

In steps Tyler Perry.

He reads the same story.

He says, "that's fucked up."

He delivers all 65 kids to Disney World for a weekend.

Nicely done, Mr. Perry.

Martinis Aren't a River in Egypt

What it is, Bs & Gs? Let's have some fun - with MARTINIS!

Here's what we'll do, I'll go mix up a knockout and you do the same.

After we're done with #1, we'll reconvene and comment on recent events.

What fucking fun! Let's not waste time. Let's shake it up!

Martini #1 Consumed

Ya-ha. 1st one's in the books. Let's take a look at some current events, shall we?

We motherfucking shall... Fuck... Ass...

Website for martini uno is USA Today. Let's see.

Holy fucking nightmare.

Seeing your parents in wax sucks ass. This is not firsthand knowledge - this is
instinctual knowledge, derived from various shitty horror movies circa 1975-present.

No matter how much you'd like to see your paraffin parents - abstain! They will come to life, perhaps not in really-real life, but at least in your head. In defense of ownership, your real parents will have to fight your wax parents, and then who do you root for? Wax parents?

Come to think of things, they could be super chill and zero maintenance from a geriatric standpoint. "I checked my parents into a home. So sad. How are your parents doing?" "Fucking fine, so long as they're kept away from open flames."

Eugene's thirsty! Battle stations, cohorts.

Martini #2 Consumed

Bah-kay... psshhoo... Let's do this. How 'bout People?

Oh... This shit is too easy.

Kim Kardashisomething is drinking what now? Unlikely. This sounds like a martini that's coated with nonsense. Methinks Kim Kar-etc... is in really-real life drinking a martini, like myself. She's a sensible media creation. She needs the pure... Moving on.

Rhianna is drinking tequila. Rhianna should be drinking tequila. Why did Hitler drink tequila? It made him mean. Kudos Rhianna. Destroy Chris Brown with your drunken anger. Nest? I actually typed "nest" instead of next. Honest Intrigue... Next?

Jennifer Love Hewitt. Her drink is fucking boring... Next. (though check out One Block Radius' track "I Like Him", which features a lyric pertaining to JLH)

So Hangover big dick and Keanu Reevers like Black Mojitos? Damn it, children. This drink, allbeit assuredly delicious, is fucking stupid. It only contains 2 oz of fun. Do a g.d. shot.

That's it. This was fun. I'm out. Remember, things that interest you should be big-ups virile and...

INTRIGUING!!!

The Worlds Worst Song Kicks Ass

Some time ago I was reading Discover magazine (because I am the kind of nerd that the other nerds beat up for not being 'hardcore' enough... that is, if they could muster the energy between asthmatic gasps to actually commit violence against their fellow man) and came across an article about using Science! to determine how appealing works of art would be to average Joe Sixpack. While there was some fascinating stuff about the interplay between danger and safety, and how evolution has hardwired us to enjoy certain pastoral environments, the real meat came from a pair of conceptual artists who were using focus testing surveys to determine the most and least popular artworks for various countries. The least favorite ones were almost exclusively abstract works.

America's favorite painting

Where things get really interesting is in the realm of music. Using the same techniques, the artists created the most and least wanted songs possible. The most wanted song, not surprisingly, sounds like a focus tested shitstorm: a light, Jazz-fusion song about love with an inoffensively rocking guitar solo. It sounds like the shit I have to listen to against my will every time I take my headphones off at the office.

The least wanted song is clearly where the action is: a 20+ minute epic involving cowboys, politics, advertising, children, and whiplash inducing changes in pace and volume. All brought to you by the soothing sounds of bagpipes, tubas, accordions, children, and rapping opera sopranos. It sounds like the wails of the damned if John Waters was in charge of Hell.

I listened to the entire thing, and am going to do it again after I finish writing this.

Abandon all hope, ye who right-click here and select 'saveith-as.'

DoF Friday Funk: Wu Tang with a focus on ODB

Big Baby Jesus, Dirt Dog, Dirt McGirt, Joey Bananas… whatever you wanna call him, just sit back for a few minutes and enjoy the man's incomparable style. Nothing says Friday like the Ol' Dirty. Trust.

Oh, and for an extensive list of ODB aliases, go here.

Famous Last Words

Imminent death has a way of cutting to the core of who we are as human beings.

In this new recurring post, the DoF shares with you the last words uttered by some of history's most notable characters before they moved on to The Great Beyond… or joined the cast of Mama's Family in hell.

"Fuck you and your 'safe word.' This ain't my first time."
- David Carradine.

"Watch me scare those stupid seagulls below us."
- JFK Jr.

"My only regret…hack…cough…is having Lou Gehrig's Disease…'
-Lou Gehrig.

"World domination was a pretty lofty goal. I probably should've just stuck to my original plan of opening up a record store. Oh well, hindsight's 20/20, right? Gun please." -Adolph Hitler.

"I think I just pooped a little…(coughcoughgurglegurgle)… I did. I did just poop a little. Goodbye, Nancy. (farts loudly)"

-Ronald Reagan.

DoF Shirt of the Week

A new weekly series will feature our "shirt of the week." Your favorite Diaryoffools.com superheroes will conspire to create a new shirt each week for your sexual consumption with the hopes that you lovely souls will be so inspired you'll buy said shirt, and someday be our reason for being. With that, we give you...

T-Shirt of the Week #1

"Borscht Belt Bombers- The CHOSEN team!"

"Challah at your boy was a close second"

The Swinging Padre gets Circumcised and rejects non-kosher swine. Besides, who needs a Bat if you have a two-day-old Challah?

CLICK HERE TO SEE THE SHIRT IN GREATER DETAIL/PURCHASE

The Day I Lost my Faith in Humanity: Cheers To You!

Merton Sussex, Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse





Let me state for the record that this is a real product. It's not an SNL spoof, a practical joke or an April Fool's prank. You can buy this. And I'm sure some people have.

Ladies and Genitals, I present: "Cheers to You."



I don't have the words.

The sort of people who would buy this are the same people who rely on the laugh tracks on sitcoms to tell them when something is funny. The same sort of people who carefully read the directions every time they use a Band-Aid. They're the whole reason why Velcro shoes were invented.

Look, thanks to life and its travails, we all eat a ration of shit once in awhile. Sometimes, more than our fair share. But if you're so hard-of-thinking that a disembodied voice accompanied by curtain-call noises is all it takes to shatter your funk? I'm guessing you could stand to eat just a little more. I'd even be willing to share some of MINE with you, because you're clearly not getting enough.

Oh, and as long as I'm on the subject...Why didn't I think of this?!? I'd have sold you a recording of an ass-load of empty, non-specific sunshiny fluff over clapping people for HALF what these schmucks are getting. Christ, for twenty-five bucks, I'll come to your house PERSONALLY and tell you to your FACE that you're not a loser...even though if you need to pay for a service like that, you automatically are. Toss in a beer and/or a sandwich, and I'll even use your fucking name. Let's see a CD beat a level of personalized service like that! If ANYONE'S going to part that fool and his money, I want a piece of the action.

Of course, it's entirely possible that the makers of these little idiot-pacifying platters are laughing so hard on the way to the bank that they're hemorrhaging blood. Maybe it's just me, but the cheesy little "Hooray for YOOOOU!" that gets Scooter and his surplus of chromosomes up out of that chair at the end there sounds a little Christian Bale-esque, doesn't it?

"Oh, GOOOD for YOOOOOU!"

Great Moments in Fat History: Gluttony on the Go!

You're fat.

And on the road.

You could wait until you got to your destination to order your double cheese meat lover's pizza with extra Canadian bacon.

But, come on.

You're not sitting behind the wheel of a retro-fitted shortbus with no front seat, reinforced shocks and a cup holder cradling a gravy-filled thermos because of your legendary will power.

Problem solved:

Item originally found on technabob.com

DOF Newswire 7/15/09- Bride Crashes Plane with Bouquet.

This may be a bad omen.

ROME (AP) — A romantic wedding in the Tuscan countryside ended with injuries after an attempt to launch the bride's bouquet from a plane brought down the tiny aircraft. Italian police say two people were hurt in the crash of the ultralight plane after the bridal bouquet they launched got caught in the aircraft's rear rotor.

The flowers blocked the engine, bringing the plane down by a youth hostel.

No word if the Groom's garter throw resulted in anyone being paralyzed. Stay tuned to Diaryoffools.com for any unnecessary updates.

Today's Darwin Award Nominee

From CNN.com:

A man died after his car plunged 600 feet off the edge of the Grand Canyon's South Rim, authorities said Tuesday.

The Arizona park's regional communications center received several reports of a car driving off the edge about 6 a.m. Monday, according to a written statement.

"Upon arriving at the scene, investigators found tire tracks leading to the edge...and received reports of a single occupant in a blue passenger car driving over the edge," the statement said.

Rescue personnel descended on ropes and found the vehicle about 600 feet into the canyon. The man's body was recovered shortly afterward, the statement said.

The man has not been identified.

Hey, that's an easy mistake to make. Some of us hit potholes, some of us skim a little too close to curbs...And apparently, still others of us are such gormless dolts that we absent-mindedly navigate our vehicles into crevasses so vast, they're visible from outer fucking space.

Apparently, authorities have not yet ruled the death a suicide. But for the victim's sake, it had better have been. Because if not, I'm incredibly surprised he possessed to mental capacity to have survived to the age where it was possible to attain a drivers' license.

This Day in History: July 14th

1789- French Revolutionaries storm the Bastille and signal the start of the French Revolution. Scholars maintain its possible they were mad because they knew how awful the movie "Marie Antoinette" would be 217 years later.

1099- Jerusalem captured by Christian Knights in first crusade. Many overheard saying, "what's the big fucking deal with this place, anyhow?" afterward.

1798- Sedition Act becomes Federal Law, and marks Alexander Hamilton as the 18th century's George W. Bush.

Banner Banality: Dissecting Advertising's Lowest Form.

If Internet banner ads are known for anything, it's subtlety.

Subtlety and class.

"Flamingo Las Vegas: Go Get Wet" ??

Hmm.

Well then.

To be fair, it is slightly more refined than their original concept:

"Flamingo Las Vegas: Stick your dick in it!"

Friday Funk: Hird

Great Fan Video.


And their classic "Getting Closer"

Your "Ewww!" of the Week

Oh, Jesus CHRIST.

I first heard rumblings of this in the tabloids a few weeks ago, but you know how tabloids are. They slander and speculate, and if they're wrong (which they are 98.5% of the time) they just say they got some bad information. But when they're right, they never let you forget it. The Enquirer, f'rinstance, usually busies themselves with inventing new euphemisms for "obese" in order to write about Kirstie Alley, but they'll no doubt be calling attention to the "fact" that they supposedly "broke" the John Edwards affair well before the traditional media for years to come. And Perez Hilton may spend most of his day using MS Paint to ham-fisted'ly draw pixelated spunk onto Hugh Jackman's upper lip, but the only time his mouth isn't running about how he was the first one to "out" Lance Bass is while he has a cock jammed into it.

But. This is one instance where I REALLY wish they'd been wrong...But it doesn't seem like they were. Because the rumblings are getting louder. It's now being picked up by legitimate Fourth Estate entities that, apparently, Morgan Freeman is fucking his step-granddaughter E'dena Hines.

Let me just let that sink in for a minute.

Morgan Freeman. Is fucking. His STEP-GRANDDAUGHTER.

And yes. It's THAT Morgan Freeman.

OH MY GOD ARE YOU SERIOUS WHAT THE HELL

Morgan Freeman. "Red" Redding. Hoke Colburn. "Easy Reader." GOD. Morgan Freeman is so well-respected, so possessed of rationality, depth and intelligence that if you look up "gravitas" in the dictionary, there's a picture of his face next to it. He's been Hollywood's go-to-guy for zen-like, elder-statesman authority for what seems like decades.

And now...he's fucking his step-granddaughter. And I'm gonna keep saying that until I believe it. Especially because it gets WORSE.

Morgan Freeman is 73. E'dena is 27. Sure, whatever. Not that it wouldn't STILL be creepier than shit even if they WEREN'T related, but lopsided-age relationships happen often enough that someone coined the cutesy term "May-December romance" specifically to describe them. However, most reports that are discussing this even in the legitimate media all reveal the following nugget of revolting intel:

"Sources claim the 73-year-old carried on a decade-long affair with his 27-year-old step-granddaughter E'Dena Hines."

A decade. That's 10 years. And she's 27. Now, I wasn't a math major by any stretch of the imagination, but my desk at Diary HQ came equipped with a fucking calculator. For those of you who are a little slower on the uptake, that means he's been slipping her the sausage since she was a junior in High School.

Still not thoroughly off your feed yet? Because I'm not finished.

"E'dena is the granddaughter of Morgan's first wife Jeanette, and Freeman and his estranged second wife Myrna had raised her since she was a young child."

So. That means he had brought her up from a young age, in his home, as though she were his daughter. And then, somewhere around the time when the ink was still drying on her driver's license, he was already dragging her into the back seat. In other words, there was a day approximately in the neighborhood of back-to-school shopping for Freshman year when Freeman had to have looked at her and thought to himself, "Boy...she's really starting to fill out."

I don't think I am ever...EVER going to stop throwing up.

To make matters even MORE socially-unacceptable, photos like the one at left are the ones all of the wire services are attaching to this story. Why? Well, because they've already got 'em on file. And, um...WHY? Because for some time, he's been bringing her along as his "date" to premieres and other red-carpet-type shit. Which, of course, nobody batted an eyelash over at the time. Matt Damon escorted his mother to the Oscars for a couple of years. I'm pretty sure Tom Hanks and Bruce Willis have tux'ed it up for the paparazzi with their daughters a few times each. So when Morgan Freeman did it, everyone said the same thing they did when the other guys squired relatives to glitzy events. "Aww. That is sweet and adorable. Look at what a great relationship he has with his family."

Except it ISN'T cute. At least, not in THIS instance. Whatever the fucking diametrically-opposed extreme OPPOSITE of "cute" is...this is it. Because even though what's happening with Freeman casts just the FAINTEST shadow of doubt on this opinion, I'm still willing to bet that Matt Damon wasn't porking his mom in the limo on the way over.

And the apologists and P.R. people are probably already firing up the Excuse-O-Meter. "Well, it's not TECHNICALLY incest, because they're not BLOOD relatives," the pooh-pooh'ers will say. "And they're both currently of legal age, so why not leave 'em alone?"

Because regardless of the fucking DNA involved, he raised this girl as his DAUGHTER, for chrissakes. Would you be any LESS shocked if it came out that Kurt Russell had been playing "Tickle the Pickle" with Kate Hudson? Hey, they're not technically related, either. Sure, she calls him "Dad," and he's been the only real father figure she's ever known, but he's not her BIOLOGICAL father! No big deal, right? He's never even married Goldie Hawn, so it's not even like it would be adultery! Yeah, anyone making THAT argument would be backed away from slowly and crossed off your Christmas card list, wouldn't they?

And besides, if you think about your relationship with your OWN kids (or if you don't have any, your own parents), you might start to get a sense of what's so very, very WRONG with this. Because at some point, he stopped making her peanut-butter sandwiches, and started buttering her muffin. At some point, he took her shopping for a REAL bra to replace her training bra, and was secretly delighted at how ripe her tits were getting.

At some point, he hugged her good-bye when she left for prom...and he had a hard-on.

If there's ANY silver lining to this story, it's that at the very least, the ever-present "anonymous sources" that constantly provide grist to the Tinsel-town rumor mill seem to indicate the following:

"Once source revealed: 'Morgan has led her to believe that he wants to marry her.' and another source says, 'Becoming Mrs. Morgan Freeman has been E'Dena's goal'."

Oh, good. At least the cleaning lady or chauffeur seems to feel as though Freeman intends to make an honest woman out of the step-granddaughter he raised from childhood, and has been penis'ing since puberty. So, there's that.

I suppose the big question is going to be: "How will this affect his career?" Once this gets out, it remains to be seen whether audiences will continue to accept him, given the sorts of roles he typically gets cast in. Will calm wisdom delivered in a stern-yet-compassionately understanding baritone somehow carry less weight when we know it's a put-on? Will we nod solemnly at a life lesson learned when it's obvious that there's "acting" happening? Will the warm feeling of sage-like serenity still be conveyed even after we're well-aware that the actor delivering the lines ACTUALLY has judgment on par with the average pantsless turbo-loser scouring internet chat-rooms, and pitching revoltingly clumsy woo at girls who still have braces and listen to the Jonas Brothers? Time will tell, I suppose. The only real precedent for this sort of thing is the Woody Allen situation, and it's not as though putting "Li'l Woody" to HIS decades-younger non-blood relative has necessarily ended his viability in the film industry.

But I'll still bet parents with teenage daughters cross the street when they see him coming.

"Get busy livin', or get busy bumpin' uglies with the girl who couldn't stop
kissing you when you gave her My Little Ponies for her tenth birthday."