Satan Loves Hot Girl-on-Girl Action

If you're gonna go to church, you might as well go to one run by a pastor who writes his sermons while shakin' his moneymaker to the beat of your local KISS, STAR, Z-something or whatever other pop radio station is big in your town. Or maybe not. In Blacklick, Ohio, a homophobic pastor seems to think the whole sapphic sentiment of Katy Perry's chart-topper, "I Kissed a Girl," will damn you straight to hell.

Who knew the taste of cherry chapstick was so evil?

She kissed a girl and I liked it. Then they had a pillowfight in their lingerie and I liked it even more.

Personally, I think hot chicks making out is the best kinda gay there is, but besides that, I have a lotta other problems with this church sign:

1. In the context of a sign, Katy Perry's lyrics could very well have been something spoken by a dude, which I assume the church wouldn't say would damn you to hell. First base is okay in everyone's book, despite what my harassment record might indicate.
   
   
2. Aren't there worst musical acts to criticize? Like, I don't know, maybe Nickelback? Seriously, those guys must've made a deal with the devil to still be popular for releasing the same crappy song over and over.
   
   
3. As any late-night viewer of Cinemax would agree, there is absolutely nothing wrong with two women locking lips. At least until your roommate walks in unexpectedly and catches you watching Forbidden Co-Ed Confessions. Then it's just plain embarrassing. But it's not a sin. Otherwise God wouldn't have given us that many premium cable movie channels.
   
   
4. Um, this incident happened in a town called "Blacklick."
   

If the pastor is as uptight as he seems, he could really just swap out the first two lines of his sign with any other lyrics from a current pop song and then just tack on the "then I went to hell" part after it. He might be onto something... Sorta like the how you add "in bed" after reading a fortune cookie fortune. Try it:

Colbie Caillat's "Bubbly":
"It starts in my toes, and I crinkle my nose... then I went to hell"

Weezer's "Beverly Hills":
"Beverly Hills, that's where I want to be... then I went to hell"

Anyway, if you're feeling creative, please submit any other song lyrics that would sound good followed by "then I went to hell." Otherwise, I'll see you in hell!

Keep It Under the Table

Lock up your outdoor furniture, because last week an Ohio man was arrested for having public sex with his patio table. According to witnesses (and video-taped evidence!), the furniture rapist was seen naked on his deck romancing his patio table's empty umbrella hole. I guess the man lost interest in his wife after realizing she wasn't as round and flat as he'd liked and that she couldn't double as a place for him to put his beer on.

"Hubba hubba. You're the best money I've ever spent at Z Gallerie."

Doesn't the term "table dance" usually involve a strip club and not the Lawn & Garden department of your local Home Depot? In any case, this whole story brings a lot of other questions to the table (but not in that "let me plug up that umbrella hole" sort of way):

1. What exactly turns this guy on? Is it the IKEA Spring catalog or is it being "just the right diameter"?
   
   
2. If the guy has a fancy candlelit dinner on the table, does that mean he then expects his table to put out?
   
   
3. Was the table "asking for it" since it was just sitting there with its four shapely legs splayed wide open?
   
   
4. Did it make the guy wildly jealous whenever the umbrella was actually in the table?
   
   
5. Why didn't he bother to bring the table inside? Was he trying to impress the nearby picnic tables and park benches?
   

"Termites? What do you mean you have termites?!!?"

This story is way better than the pregnant man, Oprah -- just wait until the table gives birth to little lawn chairs. But if you don't snatch up this story, I hope that at the very least NBC Dateline's Chris Hansen starts trolling the chat rooms to set up a "To Catch a Table Rapist" sting.

Furniture4nic8r: so what are u wearing?
ReadyWillingAndTable: just a plaid tablecloth
Furniture4nic8r: thats hot. can ur legs fold up?
ReadyWillingAndTable: no im one of those stacking tables
Furniture4nic8r: oooh, i like seeing table-on-table action
ReadyWillingAndTable: hahaha. sounds ruff
Furniture4nic8r: u like that? i can play a real mean game of ping-pong on you
ReadyWillingAndTable: ouch. that might hurt
Furniture4nic8r: i'll be gentle. i'll use some Pledge furniture polish on you first. lemon scented
ReadyWillingAndTable: ur funny. u make me feel special like a crate & barrel dinette set

7 Hours of Stand-Up: Dane Cook Sets Endurance Record for Being Unfunny

Until this past Wednesday, comedian Dave Chapelle held the record for performing the longest stand-up routine of 6 hours, 12 minutes, but Dane Cook managed to best the time this week with a 7-hour lame-a-thon consisting of the overwrought hipster-babble he likes to pass off as "jokes."

Whether you're enduring the non-side-splitting comedy of Dane or waiting in line at the DMV, seven hours is just way too long of a time to be doing something. It's just a long time to be doing anything, really. Hell, I still haven't seen any of the Lord of the Rings movies just because sometimes I have to go pee. Not everyone can last a marathon session with the Tantric mastery of Sting.

In any case, a 7-hour comedy set is a major feat and I'm not going to deny Mr. Cook his record-setting accomplishment, especially since every hour he spends on stage means that's just one less hour he could be trying to film Employee of the Month 2. In the meantime, Dane is now in the record books for being absolutely humorless for the most consecutive hours, a record previously held by such non-comedic brow-furrowers as Steven Seagal, David Caruso, Don Henley, the Pope, the entire cast of The King of Queens and the weekend manager at your local Hot Topic store.

And... time! Damn, that's just about one minute of me being unfunny. Damn you, Dane Cook.

Up Your Nose with Keith Richards' Dad

In the live-fast/die-young industry of music, there are only a few infamous acts of excess that truly qualify as being "rock-n-roll": Led Zeppelin violating a groupie with a mudshark; Ozzy Osbourne biting the head off a bat; Sting getting tantric with 14 straight hours of boinking; Phil Collins relieving a dry spell with a month-long session of nonstop masturbation; Enya and Celine Dion shooting Oates "just to see a man die" while Hall looked on in horror.

OK, so maybe some of those incidents never really happened (Phil Collins didn't limit himself to just a mere 30 days of vigorous self-pleasuring), but Keith Richards' latest revelation also turned out to be a big wankfest. On Monday, it was reported that the Rolling Stones guitarist mixed some cocaine with his late father's cremated remains so he could snort a noseful of dad and smack. Yesterday, Richards said he was just joking.

A junkie tries to score a kilo of dead guy from Keith Richards.
Yes, that's Keith on the right and not the aforementioned "dead guy."

So it was all a lie. With his admission, Richards instantly loses his rock-n-roll cred, and it has simultaneously put the kibosh on our up-and-coming side business of pushing baggies of dead guy ashes and manufacturing urn-bongs. That would've totally rawked.

R.I.P. Sinbad... No, Wait.

Rest easy, comedy fans -- Sinbad is alive and well. The comedian, best known for starring in Jingle All the Way and world-renowned for his swashbuckling voyages across the seven seas, was erroneously reported dead on Thursday by user-generated site Wikipedia.

Sinbad
Actor-Comedian/Sailor-Arabian Knight
November 10, 1956 - March 15, 2006
March 16, 2006 -

For a brief moment, the Laugh Factory almost updated its marquee to memorialize Sinbad, but they didn't have enough letters to spell out "Make God mildly chuckle at your jokes, 2-inch fade and blue pleather jumpsuit. They're not all funny, but 2 outta 3 ain't bad."

Perhaps the false report was posted by an overeager moviegoer who's still smarting from a debilitating case of side-splitting after seeing Houseguest, but it could very well be that Sinbad himself wrote the article. This past week, Sinbad enjoyed what likely amounts to the most press he's gotten in his entire career, and the hype is all over an entirely non-noteworthy event: Sinbad is still alive. In related news, several other uncelebrities have been confirmed to still be among us, including the youngest son from TV's Mr. Belvedere, the lead singer from The Verve Pipe and Jimmy Fallon.

Shave 4 U

Britney is bald! After a year of dominating entertainment news by dropping her husband/baby/panties, Britney Spears has resorted to a new ploy to land herself on the front pages of the tabloids by shaving her head. The stunt is almost taking some of the limelight away from Anna Nicole, who even in death is still able to snag the top story on Extra.

As Steve puts it, "Britney's carpet finally matches the drapes."

In a time when other stars are sporting hairpieces to cover up their baldness (see Nicolas Cage in Ghost Rider), Brit is bravely going Brazilian up top. Sure, Natalie Portman has already done that for V for Vendetta, but in a show of support for Britney, the Hands in the Air gang will be cue-balling it Britney-style for the day...

Cartoon Network's Ratings Bomb

The good news: Boston didn't blow up. The bad news: America overreacts to a Cartoon Network guerilla marketing campaign. The other bad news: People from Boston still talk with the worst-ever accents known to humankind.

Yesterday, dozens of Lite Brites depicting the Cartoon Network's Mooninites (from Aqua Teen Hunger Force) were placed on buildings and bridges in various cities across the United States. In Boston, the electronic light boards depicting the cartoon characters -- who were characteristically flipping the middle finger -- were perceived to be bombs.

The evil Mooninites descend upon Boston! Shove that up your overproduced hard-rock-lovin' ass!

When cartoon characters flipping the bird on a Lite Brite can be perceived as a terrorist threat, it's obvious that authorities are convinced that terrorists are now going for style points. Soon, the terrorists will enter the realm of cartoon supervillainy to deliver explosives in oversized gift-wrapped boxes or other showy methods of presentation commonly used by the Joker, the Penguin or Jokey Smurf.

Why should Homeland Security tip off the terrorists whenever we decide it's safe to let our guard down?

Confuse the terrorists with the new Levity Meter, which has an inverse relationship to national security.
Lighten up, Boston!

After the faux dust from the hoax settled, the only victim claimed in the "bomb scare" was Irony, whose life was tragically lost when officials blamed Cartoon Network's corporate greed and capitalism as being un-American.

At least, the channel's Aqua Teen Hunger Force got some major press out of the ordeal. It's a great show, so be sure to watch it. And please don't misinterpret that last plug for the series as being a bomb threat.

Student Is Saved from Subway Fall Only to Live to See Crappy Movies

My New Year's resolution is to save your life. In just the first week of 2007, the standout news headlines have all been about good Samaritans saving random New Yorkers, and I've been inspired.

Mind the gap. And don't forget about the oncoming train, either.

First, there was the Manhattan subway hero who saved a student who seizured his way onto the train tracks. Today, two more average Joes became heroes when they caught a baby who fell out a window of a Bronx apartment. Less jaded people might think that this rash of heroism proves that people are naturally good. I say it merely proves that people are naturally clumsy.

So back to my New Year's resolution of saving lives. It turns out that I save lives every day since I continually refrain from throttling random strangers for the stupid things they do -- like the producers of the upcoming film, Primeval, which opens next week.

The new horror movie touts that Primeval is about the world's "most prolific serial killer," comparing its villain "Gustave" to Jack the Ripper and the Zodiac Killer. The kicker is that the movie trailers and ads fail to reveal that Gustave is really a crocodile.

Now, I'm no profiler, but I don't think wild animals qualify as serial killers and I'm pretty sure that whirring noise you're hearing is Steve Irwin rolling in his grave.


By Primeval's broad definition of serial killer, the tagline "Inspired by the true story of the most prolific serial killer in history" should also apply to fatty films like Supersize Me and Fast Food Nation and cancer cinema like Thank You for Smoking and Dying Young.

Beware of serial killers who moonlight as polo shirt logos

Chalk it up to stupid marketing. While the thought of seeing Orlando Jones getting chomped by a croc is appealing, most people wouldn't want to see a movie about a future luggage set/pair of pimp shoes that's killed over 300 people. So now you've been warned about the Primeval. Consider your life saved.

Best News Day. Ever.

It's always good news when it's Friday, but today is even better because of two excellent news stories posted by AOL News.

First up, there's the story of a prison inmate in Pakistan who had a light bulb removed from his ass. The lonely prisoner claims that inmates or the police drugged him and then bulb-assaulted him while he was zonked out, but the doctors strongly doubt it. Chances are, the inmate needed some companionship where the sun don't shine and a light bulb went off in his head. Said light bulb was then likely seized by the inmate and promptly plugged into his exit-only socket. Someone should print up posters and t-shirts of the X-ray with the slogan, "Bad Idea."

Light bulb, right-side up, above your head = Good idea.
Light bulb, upside-down, in your ass = Bad idea.

That's the last time I let a light bulb buy me dinner!

The second story tells of a former Oklahoma judge who was found guilty on four counts of indecent exposure because he was... wait for it... using a penis pump in his courtroom. One of the judge's female court reporters testified that his little gavel was disrobed on 15 occasions, and her attention was drawn to his Exhibit A only after she heard the "sh-sh" sounds of what turned out to be his penis pump, or, in legalese, what's known as the "judge's chamber." Gives new meaning to the term "all rise."

Hot Dog!

Be careful where you put the donuts. This past Sunday, a dog set a house on fire after its owners left a box of donuts on top of the stove. Tantalized by the non-kibble-based treats, the pooch jumped up to retrieve the box of pastries, inadvertently flipping on a burner. Continuing what would become one of the greatest dog tricks ever, the mutt set the donut box on fire which in turn set the kitchen and attic ablaze, causing $75,000 in damages.

Much to everyone's relief, though, the dog managed to get the donut. Oh and incidentally, no one was hurt in the fiasco. Oh and better yet, the dog probably scored one of those glazed cream-filled jobbies which are really tasty.

As a public service, we're showing some other situations in which dogs and donuts should be separated.

Remember: Donuts and dogs don't mix.

Things That Go Kerplunk!

They taught you how to pogo to songs about masturbation and now the band Green Day is teaching kids how to stay alive. This past Sunday, Green Day was credited with saving a 12-year-old girl from getting blown to bits. According to reports, Ruby Wilson found a live grenade in her yard and was only able to identify it because she had a picture of the explosive on her Green Day t-shirt for the American Idiot album.


So this kid didn’t know what a grenade looked like until she went to her local Hot Topic to buy a band shirt? Sure, I couldn't exactly tell who was with "stupid" until the t-shirts came along, but if it takes Green Day to help you with basic weapon identification then maybe evolution meant for you to be blasted to smithereens.

In other news, I narrowly avoided eating what appeared to be a leftover piece of Almond Roca in a kitty litter box after recognizing it from Green Day’s Dookie album.

Street Magic

Last weekend, magician David Copperfield was the victim of an attempted robbery as he and his two assistants were returning to their tour bus after a post-show dinner. Copperfield's assistants lost their belongings to the thieves, but David used sleight of hand to trick the robbers into thinking he was empty handed. Put that in your gothic gloompipe and smoke it, Criss Angel!

The thieves were eventually apprehended, and as far as I'm concerned, they owe David the price of admission to his magic show since they got front row seats to his abracadbra-niciousness.

So, what exactly happened that magical night? Presto! Here's a dramatization...

Fire in the Hole

Normally, I don't comment on news stories. But hell, I've been slacking hard on the blog and besides, this is one of the best stories, like, ever.

A woman tried to smuggle a live grenade and marijuana into a prison in El Salvador. That's a good story right there, but not very Jennitastic. There must be more. And there is! How did this lady manage such a trick? That's right, her vagina.

No, she didn't just stick a baggie with weed and a grenade in her slot. She shoved a 10" x 4" cylinder in her pusspuss. I'm not sure what those dimensions mean in the cylinder world exactly, but I think it might be the rough equivalent of a Pringles canister.

The story says they weren't sure what prompted officials to check the woman before she met as scheduled with two inmates. Depending on this lady's history and um, talents, it was probably her facial expression, which was either a big ol' Pringles can in my coochie grin, or a big ol' Pringles can in my coochie grimace.

I think this lady has a future in adult entertainment. Forget ping pong balls, this broad can serve up tennis balls, can and all.


Thanks to Deitri for sending me this story.

I'm not sure what I mean by the image of the stuffed Eiffel Tower taking a faux Pringles can in the elevator shaft, either--but my Barbies wouldn't pose for the shot.

Misfortune Cookies

"Your bright personality will attract the best of friends." That's the message I got from a fortune cookie I had for lunch today. It sounds like it's making some sort of sage statement, but unless my personality is going clubbing when I'm not looking, I really don't think it's been making any new pals (or at least that's what the devil voice in my head keeps telling me).

Maybe if the cookies' Lotto numbers hit the jackpot on occasion, the fortunes wouldn't be so lame. So, I guess that's why the recent story of X-rated fortune cookies that were misdelivered to a Brooklyn charity is such a great news item. The event organizers had some custom fortunes made to tout their city, but 350 of the 1,750 cookies were delivered with dirty messages on them. And I'm not talking about 350 dirty messages where you and your friends tack on "...in bed" after reading the fortune.

I looked up some places that sell naughty edibles (Boobie Cookies, Penis Sexy Snack Cookies) and one of the X-rated fortune cookie messages they quoted in their catalog read, "Big cats are dangerous, but a little pussy never hurt anyone." ...In bed! Ha! Double dirty! Me-yow!

Now, here are some examples of the pro-Brooklyn messages that the charity organizers intended for their cookies: "Brooklyn -- it's like an everything bagel" and "Brooklyn -- The 10th Planet." ...In bed! Ha ha! Bagels in bed! A planet in bed! I'm not even mildly turned on! ...In bed! Wait, none of this is working at all.

Those are the worst ancient Chinese secrets I've ever heard in my life.

photos by Jason ...in bed!

The point is that dirty fortunes are more fun to read than boring ones. The charity dinner would've been a forgettable non-event if it weren't for the Cinemaxed messages, and if my after-lunch cookie was raunchier, I might've been a mildly-amused Lotto non-winner. Plus, you can't spell Confucianism without "F-U." ...In bed! No, wait. That still doesn't work.

Lactose Intolerance

It's Super Bowl Sunday and, when that pesky football game isn’t getting in the way, you want to see the commercials that the advertisers spend the big bucks on. They’re outrageous. They’re funny. They introduce awful catchphrases to America. But this year, one special ad didn’t make the cut. It got benched when ABC deemed it inappropriate for its standards.

The ad in question is a PETA spot called "Milk Gone Wild." It’s an anti-milk campaign that parodies the "Girls Gone Wild" videos, except the girls in this ad lift up their shirts to reveal double-D cow udders. Got milk? The hoochies in this ad do! They’re milking their own boob-udders while squirting milk mustaches onto the faces of thirsty frat guys! The milk fountains actually get so extreme that the horny dudes are essentially sporting ZZ Top milk beards. Flash, flash. Squirt, squirt. These crazy chicks just can’t stop milking themselves, baby.

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.

PETA is sooo right that milk is disgusting. Cows in the wild don’t even milk themselves! But other than the fact that milk makes me fart, I think the only dairy-related disservice this milk ad achieves is that it's single-handedly ruining Mardi Gras for all the boob lovers of the world. Thanks a lot, PETA.