If I Could Just Say A Few Words

It was a special day yesterday. My youngest kid, Wesley, finally passed the fifth grade after only three tries. At least I think he’s my youngest. I haven’t bothered to check yet and lets face it, there’s a pretty good chance I’ve got a little “pup” living in every time zone in America so it’s not really fair to say Wesley’s my youngest. We named him Wesley after Dr. Wesley McClaren, Steven Seagal’s character in “The Patriot”. You know, I think Segal is a Dr. in real life. I heard he got it in tai kwon do or maybe he got one of those combined degrees in Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance or something. Anyway, Beth was almost ready to pop at the time but we were so excited about there being a new Seagal movie out we just couldn’t help ourselves. At first I thought Beth was being affected by the intense action scenes but sure enough, she was doing the labor ‘thang’ right there in the theatre. I tried to jump up and get some help but my feet were stuck to the floor so I delivered little Wesley using the only thing I had available at the time, two drink straws and a 5 lb box of Junior Mints.

Wesley’s birth was bittersweet because on one hand we had a new son but on the other hand I missed the ending to The Patriot. Now, don’t anyone get smart and e-message me the ending because I finally got a copy of it on the DVD. Youngblood gave me a copy of it a few years ago on VHS but half way through it had been taped over with a five hour marathon of Bass Masters and once again I was screwed over.


















Dr. Seagal performing open heart “shreddery”

What was really special about Wesley passin’ the 6th grade was that his principle, Mr. Roach, asked me to give a speech at the little graduation ceremony the kids were havin’. I get a kick out Mr. Roach’s name, every time we have parent teacher night I always ask him if he’s feelin’ burned out or how his little “clips” at home are doin’. It’s weird but I haven’t seen him at parent teacher night for a while, I’ll have to look into that. So on the way over to the school Beth was giving me a hard time about my driving as usual. She always says my hands should be at “10 and 2”. Well, I go by the 24 clock only so I don’t have a clue what she’s even talking about. Me, I keep one hand at 08:00 Hours and that’s it. The other hand I need free to do important things like smoking, reading Field and Stream, eating two Wendy’s Classic Triple Cheeseburgers combined or emphasizing my love for eating two Wendy’s Classic Triple Cheeseburgers combined.





Once you unhinge your jaw it’s a cakewalk




Before we went to the school I wanted to make a quick stop at “Bargain Bob’s Bargain Basement” to pick up some mink oil for my boots. Bobs’ is located in the attic of an old munitions factory. I didn’t know it but apparently Hawaii was involved with World War Two somehow, you learn somethin’ new everyday. Bargain Bob’s isn’t really the first place I’d shop, in fact it’s horrible. It combines the customer service of Canadian Tire with the family-friendly atmosphere of an Old West whorehouse.

I know about Canadian Tire because I once took the family on a trip to Niagara Falls. I found out too late that I could’ve seen the falls from the U.S. side but that’s a story for another time. Anyway, we were taking in all of the wonders of the area around Niagara Falls, from rock legend wax museums to serial killer wax museums and wax wax museums, it had it all. Anyway, long story short the tire blew on my ’83 Phoenix and I figured a place called Canadian Tire would have a tire to fit a fucking automobile but after 2 hours at the customer service counter I just gave up and we rode the dummy tire back to Colorado. I couldn’t understand what those commies were sayin’ anyway with their “eh’s” and “aboots” and “socialized healthcare”.


















Look honey, its Nicole Kidman if she didn’t eat for three years

Once we got to the school I was gettin’ kind of nervous so I did what I always do when I’m nervous, I eat a Baby Ruth followed by a little “shnort” of Snakebite cocktail. I was feeling a little more confident but I had heartburn like a bastard. In spite of this I think the speech went off pretty well, here it is:

“Good evening ladies and gents and all the little tater tots out there. First of all I’d like to say thanks to Mr. Roach for lettin’ me come out here tonight. Where are ya, Roachy? There he is, hi Roachy, why don’t you come up here with me and we can make this a joint effort? Hehehehe *cough* Jesus Christ this heartburn is crazy, Beth, toss me up a Tums will ya? Thanks babe…’scuze me a sec I just gotta wash this down. Is this water? You didn’t spike it did ya Roachy? Ok, I’m ready now. Kids…tonight is your night, a night to celebrate with your family and friends, a night to throw caution to the wind. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do though. I don’t know what that would be because you see I was once what your mommies and daddies might call a Grade A fuckup. I would do pretty much anything for money, one time I ate a pack of cigarettes for 7 bucks so I could feed my crippling nicotine addiction. That’s they way life goes kids, one day your swinging like a little monkey from the jungle jim and playin’ your Nintendo machines and the next your shooting drain cleaner into your scrotum just to get a fix. Now, I’m not sayin’ all of you are gonna end up like that but lets not kid each other, Honolulu’s education system is pretty much on par with Cold War Russia, do the math is all I’m sayin'. Hopefully you kids will steer clear of the hooch and get good jobs. Believe me, you don’t want to end up in the clink. Let me give ya a little glimpse into life on the inside. First of all, if you’re under 180 pounds, you're gonna be somebody’s bitch. Now, if you don’t understand what I’m talkin’ about I’m sure your parents will fill you in on the way home. Secondly, you’re gonna need to get your hands on some contraband in order to make friends and stay alive. Drugs are your best form of currency. You can make homemade PCP using some WD-40, Turtle Wax and a little elbow grease. Lastly, never snitch to the Screws, tattletales in prison get more then a pat on the hiney, they get gutted from eyes to asshole. Nobody wants to see that happen to any of you, I know I sure don’t. I like this, I like coming out to gigs like this and talkin’ turkey with you guys, you’re an alright bunch. I’d like to finish by telling you that even though I don’t believe in global warming, I’m pretty sure God is furious at us for letting gays into the military and to punish us, he is causing the icecaps to melt. So, you might want to find out a way for all of us to live in trees or something because we're gonna be balls high in filthy water by 2040. Goodnight and keep on rockin’ in the free world".

I thought it went pretty well, I gave a wink to 'ole Roachy on the way out, I'm sure he'll have me back next year just by how proud he looked as I was leaving.

Undercover Smothers Brother

We were watching the boob tube the other night and we stopped at “Law and Order: Special River Boat Operators Unit”. It’s a pretty radical show. Two detectives are undercover playing an old timey River Boat Captain and his Navigator and they solve crimes on the Mighty Mississipp. They get into all kinds of trouble, there’s one episode where they have a poker tournament on the boat and all the gamblers and n’er do-wells come from miles around to compete. Then Mel Gibson and James Garner argue about who gets to nail Jodie Foster but in the end everyone on the boat gets to bang her. Wait, I think I’m talkin’ about the movie Maverick, or maybe it was Passion of the Christ. Man, that’s the last time I eat expired Hamburger Helper without cooking it.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Law and Order. I remember it now. Two undercover cops play a River Boat captain and his Navigator. The captain, Miles Cadillac, is played by Emmanuel Lewis from the show Webster. The Navigator, Misty LaRue, is played by Mindy Cohn. You may remember her as Natalie from The Facts of Life.










I like my drinks from Concentrate, squeezed, not blended














It's her subtle approach to acting I like

The sexual tension between the two on the show is very real, and let me tell ya brah, I know sexual tension. One time before I got married there was this sweet little piece of tail workin’ down at the KFC. I’d go there three times a week to unwind after a hard day of rubbing a criminal’s face in Lady Justice’s excrement and she’d flirt with me like crazy. The girl workin’ the counter, not Lady Justice. Don’t get me wrong, if Lady Justice ever offered, I’d tip her scales in a second, are ya with me people?

As I was sayin, the KFC chick was flirting with me all the time. I’ve never had anyone give me extra handi-wipes that many times in a row, it was pretty clear what she wanted. I knew how these little games work so I returned the favor by telling her I’d like to use her thighs as earmuffs. Now I’m not allowed back in the KFC but I’m pretty sure it’s just her way of making the embers of lust burn that much stronger.

Anyway, after watching several episodes of this show I decided to take a trip down ‘ole memory lane and share with you, my loyal fans, one of the most intense busts I’ve ever been a part of.

It was 1975 and the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour was the 35th most popular show on television. I was in California, feeling the fallout of my failed acting career. It was a time of several changes in America, mainly with the drug scene. I hear there were other things going on at the time but I had a healthy interest in drugs and I’m not good at multi-tasking so I stayed focused on that. Pot was gettin’ old at the time but cocaine was a great new way to meet interesting people and start conversations that go nowhere. I was just getting’ into law enforcement as well, back then all cops had to have at least some trace of cocaine in their system to pass the qualifying “hip” test.

I got lucky and landed a gig as a security guard at the Smothers Brothers set where I overheard Tommy Smothers freaking out about how someone had stolen their weekly crate of coke. Dick was furious, he’d already chopped the fingers off of three stagehands to see if they’d cough up the info but it turns out they didn’t know anything. I offered to help them. At first they looked like they didn’t trust me but then they had an idea where I could pose as their long lost brother, Harry Smothers.






Don't F@#k with Dick






I posed as Harry for three weeks on the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour. Unfortunately their ratings at the time consisted of Tommy and Dick’s parents so nobody saw it. They even edited me out of the DVD edition, replacing me with a giant rubber flower instead. In order to find out who nicked the coke I had to investigate everyone they were associated with. There was Keith Moon, but I quickly ruled him out because he wasn’t able to put his own pants on by himself by 1975 let alone organize a massive coke heist. He was about as likely a suspect as Jim Morrison’s ghost, who happened to be my number 2 suspect below Keith Moon at the time.

My biggest suspect soon became the folk singer Donovan, who had a lot of appearances on the show. Donovan was always hanging around outside the studio and asking to be put on the show even though I’m pretty sure he hadn’t made an album in about 8 years. If you ask me, the guy just made a career ripping off Bob Dylan anyway. When he came up to us asking if he could perform his brand new song “Mangled Up In Stew” I told Tommy and Dick to let him in.








Sure, he looks drug free, but it’s all part of his plan






During performances on the show Tommy and Dick always went backstage to smoke up or write some leftist propaganda or something like that so they never actually saw what was going on. I decided to stay on stage and check it out, what I saw would have blown the native hair beads right off my hair if I’d been into that style back then. During the part of the song where Donovan walks into his plywood mushroom house while playing his guitar, he put on a tape of Bob Dylan to make the audience think he was still playing. Then he put his guitar down and walked backstage to find Tommy and Dick’s pallet of coke. He was helped by a bunch of beatnik thieves not unlike the ones seen in the old Batman TV show.

I was waitin’ for him this time though. I jumped from the staging and landed on his back sending him face first into a pile of coconut cream pies that were to be used for the second act. Donovan would later say that his song “Don’t Think Rice Is Alright” was inspired by the time he was busted by me and went straight.

Changing My Tune

Change is a good thing. I thrive on change but only in certain areas of my life. In some areas of my life I refuse to allow change to happen. For instance, one time Beth replaced my Colgate SpongeBob Double Bubble Cool Mint Strawberry toothpaste with Colgate Complete and I freaked out. My teeth are very important to me. I consider them part of my family. In fact, I love my teeth more than I love some of my kids. Actually, that’s not very difficult to do. I’ve had TV dinners I’ve loved more than some of those little bastards. Other things that I don’t want to see change are: the current lineup of CSI Miami; the Stag Chili recipe; the Bush Administration; the current menu at Chili’s and the management team at the Kansas City Royals. All of these things are so awesome I don’t think they should change one bit.








Meet the Royals' new third baseman








Sometimes change is a good thing though. Recently I’ve been thinking of changing the theme song to my show. Currently it’s the one by Ozzy and even though I worshipped him from 1972-1988 I think my show’s intro could use some new blood. By the way, when I say I worshipped Ozzy Osbourne I mean I literally worshipped him. I had a shrine set up in the basement with decapitated doves, pictures of Ozzy I took at concerts and outside of his home, all of Black Sabbath’s albums tacked upside down on the wall including Technical Ecstasy and a lock of Randy Rhodes’ hair I found in the urinal at one of Ozzy’s concerts. I know it was Randy’s because it reeked of awesomeness, as well as urine. I had to take the whole thing down when one of my stupid neighbor’s kids came over to visit and went down there. The doctor said it was the first time he’d ever seen an eight year old have a heart attack.









Jesus








I decided to start shopping around for some new theme songs. At first I wanted people to see my sensitive side, the side that holds the door open for Beth and only farts in public if it’s a “silent but violent” one and not a “loud and proud” one. For this I went to the one and only, Elton John. I told ‘ole Elty that I wanted something that people will remember. I suggested he re-work Candle in the Wind, this is what he came back with:

And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a Bounty Hunter in the wind
Never knowing who to mace first
When the door caved in
And I would have liked to have known you
Before you had twelve kids
Your mind burned out long before
Your hair roots ever did

I wasn’t quite sure what to make of this, at first I was flattered that Elton John even got back to me. But after reading over the song a few times I kind of thought he was makin’ fun of me. Plus I got a letter from his lawyers saying I owed Elton $50,000 for thinking about him without permission, so screw that idea.

I decided I wanted to go a little edgier. I was plowing through my old 8-tracks and stumbled across The Doors. I think having some mysterious, psychedelic hard rock will really make people take notice. Now, I know Jim Morrison’s been dead for about 80 years but I got in touch with the Doors’ keyboardist, Ray Manzarek. I told him I wanted to capture the machismo of Jim Morrison minus the gayness of the rest of the band. He sent me back this little gem:

You know the Dog knows how to fight
So don’t get in his way
Try to run
Try to hide
He’ll curse and scream, then start to cry
He’ll curse and scream, then start to cry
Yeah
Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah
Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah

I thought that was pretty solid but then I read the letter that Ray Manzarek sent with the lyrics and I started to have second thoughts:

Hey Dog!

My spirit is honored that you chose me to write a new theme song for the show. You know, when I was on that beach in 1964 and I saw Jim Morrison walking towards me I knew that someday I’d be writing lyrics for a show about a hick who catches drug addicts. Jim Morrison once told me he would have liked to have been a bounty hunter if you were allowed to eat peyote while on the job. He talked to me a lot because we were really tight. One time we were all at this party at Andy Warhol’s place and the Velvet Underground was playing but Jim wasn’t happy about being in the sidelines so he jumped on stage and grabbed the mic from Lou Reed and started singing. Then he collapsed and shit himself but he picked me to clean his leather pants the next day, that’s how well I knew Jim Morrison. Jim Morrison and I were like this, you can’t see what I’m doing but I’m crossing my fingers. Anyway, I know Jim is out there and I know he’d be happy with me re-working Break on Through for your show, that’s how close I was with Jim Morrison. So I hope you enjoy the song Dog. Take care and remember, I knew Jim Morrison.

Ray “Jim Morrison” Manzarek











It’s good to see that Ray’s moved on

After reading this letter I decided to scrap the idea of a new theme song altogether. I don’t really want people seeing my softer side, that should only be reserved for two people, my lady and my Lord and Savior. My Lord is also my Savior you see so it’s still two people not three so you can hold off on the letters correcting me. I also don’t want some hippie making my show look like Scooby Doo meets Hee Haw. I can’t really afford to pay anyone any money anyway, I was hoping to pay them with some free small weapons training but you know what these celebrities are like, they get other people to do all their fighting for them. Looks like I have to stick to Ozzy’s theme which is kind of a bummer. I see the Royals are about to come on TV, at least I know they’ll never let me down.

When Life Gives You Lemons

I was feelin’ kind of disgusted with myself the other day. I had spent 38 hours in an online sex chat room telling chicks I was a guy in a wheelchair to make them feel sorry for me. The online chat name I used was “The Cannon”. I felt guilty afterwards and needed a pick-me-up. Usually I’d just pick my nose until it bleeds for fun but I needed something else. I decided to look at some of the motivational posters Beth keeps putting up in the office. I quickly found out that they were about as inspiring as Eddie Murphy’s music career. Sure, I like to party all the time too Eddie, but not in the gay way you sing about it. I had some serious problems with Beth’s choice of motivational posters, they were either lame or they just didn’t make any sense.





















I don't get it
















I don't get it
















I don't get it

I decided to check out other forms of motivation, like Tony Robbins. I was kind of wary buying any of his products because one Christmas I bought his book Awaken the Giant Within for Beth thinking she could use it to find new ways to excite the ‘ole trouser snake if you know what I mean. Turns out that book had nothing to do with any of that and Barnes and Noble wouldn’t let me return it because I’d spilled spaghetti all over the first few pages.

In the end I got Tony’s book Get the Edge! And also Legends of Mastery, which I got as an audio-book. The last time I got an audio-book was Lee Marvin’s I’ve Seen Better Film on Teeth from 1971. It was a comedy album where he takes a light hearted jab at all kinds of movies, even ones he’d been in. Here’s a small excerpt:

Telly Savalas, what a fuggin’ dick…should’ve called him Telly SavalASS…HA, Dirty Dozen: The Fatal Mission, Jesus, that movie stunk worse then Charles Bronson. He’s another one I got issues with, nobody tells me when and when I shouldn’t be drinkin’, I don’t need nobody. What you lookin at? You callin' me a queer? C’mere you little worm I’ll gut you like a toad…I didn’t mean it, I love you man, I love you…*CLUNK* Zzzzzzzzzzzz

After reading some of Tony Robbins’ book I decided it wasn’t for me. I couldn’t figure out what the hell he was talking about with finding my inner beauty and tackling every opportunity no matter how small. Let me tell you something, I don’t think I could find my inner beauty with a GPS and the only thing I like to tackle is an ice head whose pants are full of urine…because he’s scared of me not because he has a bladder condition. I’d also like to point out that occasionally, after I’ve funneled 17 beers, I like to tackle Beth. Thanks but no thanks, Mr. Robbins. Want my advice? Stick to making ice cream with that actor Bob Baskins.














For $9.95 I’d like to see them be motivated to add more Oreos

I decided I’d had enough with relying on other people to motivate me, I’m the Dog for Christ’s sake. The last time I can remember being motivated by someone else was in ’83 while watching the A Team. Murdock says to B.A. Baracus: “I wish I could just jump in the water and live like a fish”. B.A. replies: “Shut up fool, you ain’t no fish!” How true is that? Mr. T was probably the greatest philosopher we’ve ever had, what he meant was you have to know yourself, I don’t think it’s ever been said as clearly as that.

That advice really helped me out because at the time I was going through an identity crisis where I thought I would dye my hair blonde and be a parole officer. Luckily Mr. T. turned my life around and I made the huge jump to dying my hair bleach blonde and going into the bounty hunting industry. Bravo, Mr. T., I hope to see your bid for the presidency in ’08.









I pity the fool that doesn’t focus on the U.S-Beijing trade deficit






Since Mr. T isn’t on TV anymore I decided to make my own motivational slogans but instead of hogging them for myself which I have every right to do as a right wing American, I’ve decided to share them so that you, the reader, can use them and turn the “Bitchin” dial all the way to 10 in your daily life. After reading these I hope Tony Robbins is motivated to eat his enlarged heart out, enjoy.

“If you can afford it, you can probably do it”

"Everything is possible, if you're a white male"

“You are the only person on earth who can use your ability…except for your doppelganger and possibly aliens like the ones from that movie The Puppet Masters where they put something in the back of your neck and make you have sex with ugly people”.

“People often say that motivation never lasts, well neither does the high you get from huffing gas fumes from a paper bag, that’s why I recommend both daily”.

“It’s not knowing what to do, It’s knowing how to avoid doing it”

“The only thing holding you back is your very tiny brain”

"All's fair when lovin' whores"

“There is no such thing as failure, but there is such a thing as fucking up”

Ask yourself: “How am I going to live today in order to create the tomorrow where robot butlers do all of my house chores?”

And finally: “Do who you like, like who you do”.

At Wits End

I decided to haul the whole clan to the theatre the other night. I thought it’d be a good way to relax and to be honest it was my night to cook and this was a good way to get out of making ravioli’s. I can never get the all the ravioli’s out of the can and I always burn them to the bottom of the pot. Personally, I could care less because I lost all of my taste buds in ’72 when I took a dare and licked the bottom of an armadillo at a party to see if it would stick to the ceiling, but the rest of the family always notices when their food doesn’t taste right. I don’t know why they couldn’t make ravioli’s easier to cook. They should pre cook them and then we could just heat them up, that’s how all good food comes. Chef Boyardee? More like Chef Boyar-dumbass if you ask me. I don’t know why I buy that stuff anyway. I keep tellin’ myself I gotta stop supporting Mexico. In my opinion they’re tryin’ to overrun America by replacing the Gideon Bible in our hotel rooms with that Don Coyote book or whatever Mexicans read when they get all excited and hoot and holler and shoot their pistols in the air.






Tastes great but almost impossible to prepare





As I was sayin, I took everyone to the theatre because I didn’t want to cook. It doesn’t matter though because I’m pretty sure popcorn and twizzlers are in that food pyramid thing that most people think was built by aliens but everyone knows was constructed by American slaves during the Boer War. I wanted to go see “Big Mamma Needs Lypo”, the one where Martin Lawrence dresses up like a fat woman and Eddie Murphy dresses up like a fat woman doctor who telepathically talks with his surgeon who happens to be a bear played by Samuel L. Jackson. We scrapped that idea when Beth informed me I dreamt that movie up after eating a pound of shrimp I found under the couch.

In the end we decided to go see Pirates of the Caribbean 3: At Worlds End, and I gotta tell ya, never before has a movie made such sense. All of the characters were just like me and you, just average joe’s tryin’ to make it in this crazy old world. I also have to say that the multiple storylines only strengthened the primary plot, which was of course portraying the history of the United States in pirate form. I have to warn you, there are spoilers ahead so if you’d rather go to the theatre and absorb the whole thing yourself stop right now because sometimes my writing can be kind of confusing and I don’t want to drag down the quality of this movie’s plot.












The monkey is actually in the spirit world but because the Black Pearl is sailing under the Green Flash at sunset he gets one day every ten years with Captain Barbossa. Barbossa is only half in the spirit world because Orlando Bloom’s heart, which is in the treasure chest, is still beating but if Davy Jones touches the Black Pearl with equal to or greater than ¾ of his face tentacles he’s home free which also releases Jack Sparrow from the spirit world but NOT the underworld, there’s a huge difference between the two but don’t worry, it’s all tied together in Keith Richards’ amazing acoustic guitar performance.

Like I said, the movie takes us through a clear and concise journey portraying the origins of our fair country. Take the scene where Jack Sparrow is in Davy Jones’ locker and his ship is stranded in the desert. He is hallucinating and seeing many different forms of himself, these of course represent the many American politicians circa 1770 who talked in circles and couldn’t get anywhere. The magic stones that turn into crabs represent the British. At first, Sparrow doesn’t want anything to do with the stones and he throws them away just as the Americans didn’t want anything to do with the British.

Throwing the magic stone crabs away was so like the Boston Tea Party it wasn’t even funny. In the end Sparrow realizes he needs the magic crabs to take his ship to the ocean just like the American realized they needed the British so they could have someone to make fun of in the future. I mean, what’s up with their food, weather and overall dental hygiene? Am I right? See, the jokes have survived all this time, the system works and Pirates of the Caribbean understands this system, God bless them.






This is the scene where Jack’s arch nemesis, Captain Jockstrap, challenges him to a duel, or as I like to call it, one of the best moments in cinematic history




Let’s move on to the scene where Calypso is released from her human form into a 100 foot version of herself who pukes up crabs for 5 minutes. Clearly this represents the America Civil Rights movement of the 1960s. The midget pirate, I’m sorry, that’s not politically correct, the half-pint freak pirate, represents Martin Luther King Jr. and his struggle to rise above it all. In the end the Civil Rights movement swelled and swelled until it couldn’t be controlled by white America until it exploded all over the place. In the movie, I think that the crabs that came out of her represented all of the STD’s she spread throughout the years. Ahh well, she died as she lived, giving crabs to pirates.

The final scene where the two ships are fighting in a whirlpool while the British Armada watches at the sidelines is obviously portraying the war in Iraq. The Black Pearl is the United States and the Flying Dutchman is Al Qaeda or Iraq or the Sunni’s or whoever we’re fighting over there. The British ships represents the rest of the world standing by and not doing anything and the Singapore ships represent the British who say they are with us but always disappear when the shit goes down.

Davy Jones is Saddam Hussein because he killed that one guy pretty gruesomely when his face tentacles went up his nose and all that. Orlando Bloom is George W. Bush because he kicks ass before asking questions unless there’s a pretty girl in the way in which case he has his way with her and then kicks ass. That’s why Keira Knightley represents Canada because those sap suckers are our bitches and the sooner they admit that the better. Johnny Depp is Condoleeza Rice because he ends up playing second fiddle to Orland Bloom in this one and he’s pretty cooky just like little Condy.


















I WAS going to save you but I can’t until I go into Davy Jones’ locker to get Jack Sparrow back so he can pretend to be allied with the British but the truth is he really is allied with the British UNLESS Miss Swan kisses him three times with her eyes closed in which case he’ll be allied with us AND the British but he still won’t be able to return to the living world until his magic compass that he stole from the British points north for exactly five hours straight. It’s pretty straight forward, I don’t know why you look so confused Bootstrap.

As for Keith Richards’ appearance, I’m pretty sure he represents Dr. Phil. He’s the father to Johnny Depp just like Dr. Phil is a father figure to all of us Americans. I know Depp represents Condoleeza Rice and she isn’t really all Americans but I’m willing to stretch this concept a little bit in spite of the fact that the movie is so straight forward.

So there you have it, a great movie, an even greater country. My only complaint is that the movie could've been at least an hour and a half longer, just to flesh out the side plots a little more. I can't understand how anyone could walk away from this movie without a permanent hardon for the U.S.A. If you didn't like the movie, all I can say is go back to Iran, Osama.

I can’t wait for numbers 4, 5 and 6 to come out. I hear the 6th one is going to be called Pirates of The Caribbean Retirement Home.














Yarr, this retirement home be drafty, says I

Endorse This

It's cool getting recognized by fans and signing autographs, but one of the down sides of fame is all the calls for endorsements. The Dog's reputation nearly got jacked big time a few years ago when my agent Doug put my name on a dual-action blow dryer/vacuum cleaner called the SuckingBeautiful2000. The basic idea was that rather than owning separate appliances for drying your hair and cleaning small messes up off your carpet, you could save time and space by having a 2-in-1 appliance for both jobs.



Thar she blows. This thing left me with serious questions, such as, if a vacuum is a piece of shit, can it pick itself up?




I tried the thing for a month at home before signing on, and frankly I didn't get it, but didn't say too much because the cash felt right. The basic idea was that the spout on the end of the vacuum could reverse suction, and you could go from sucking in to blowing out by pressing just one button. In retrospect it was appropriate that the damned thing sucked harder and blew harder than anything I've endorsed before or since, because as a product it sucked harder and blew harder than anything I've endorsed before or since.



The SuckingBeautiful2000 claims another victim







I was in a rage after two straight weeks of getting pieces of corn flakes and plastic tabs in my hair every time I wanted to blow dry it, plus because the SuckingBeautiful2000 was too big for my bathroom I found myself standing in my utility closet in a soaking towel and bathrobe each morning, hairspray in one hand and a vacuum cleaner hose in the other. Beth stuck to her industrial powered Costco blow dryer throughout this entire sham, and I can't blame her.



SuckingBeautiful2000's animal mascot. Keep wagging that tongue, punchy, cuteness is a great way of covering up products that don't work




After the product hit store shelves, I barely avoided getting sued when a woman from South Dakota accidentally pressed the reverse suction button while drying her golden retriever's coat of fur. She nearly took one of the poor thing's eyes out, and made a point of slapping me in the face at a taser convention I was attending near Pierre, South Dakota a few months after the accident. To be honest, I can't blame her. And don't get me started on the creepy tale of this hairstylist nutjob from L.A. who bought six SuckingBeautiful's for his salon before going bonkers. From what I heard he got confused by the product and started styling the carpet in his home using hair dye, scissors, and gels like it was a real head of hair, while at work he tried to vacuum his celebrity clientele’s heads and told them that wigs made from carpet were going to be the next big thing. I can only assume he got taken away in a straight jacket.



"Wee" Willy Wenshaw, former L.A. hairstylist, current nutjob







The worst part was the slogan I had to sing for a radio ad that aired here in Honolulu. I can't believe I'm repeating this but it went, "...Suck-o, Clean-o, Vac-o, Neat-o. The SuckingBeautiful2000, it will suck and blow you right."

The Maury You Know

I was really tired the other night, so tired I could barely finish my Hungry Man at dinner. They say it contains over 1lb of food and judging by my weight before and after I gave my offering to the porcelain god, they’re pretty bang on. Ah well, you know the old saying, a tired dog is a happy dog, unless you’re sick. Then you should go to the vet or in my case the doctor. There was that one time where we couldn’t afford health insurance and I had to resort to going to a vet who was a friend of mine. It wasn’t too bad, instead of lollipops you get Milk Bones and instead of a physical you get your nuts chopped off.




Go ahead, make your septic tank beg for mercy




I was still really tired the next day so I took the day off. Beth thinks it’s because I got up at 3am and ate another Hungry Man (I just can’t resist their moose meat and apple dumpling platter with the banana split side). I didn’t listen to her though, I just plunked my tired ass on the couch and drowned her out with some good ole American television. I love daytime television. To hell with prime time, daytime television is the meat and potatoes of what makes this country great. I don’t know what me and my family would do without quality programs like Days of Our Lives and Jerry Springer. Not only does it entertain, it gives women something to do when their not ironing our shirts and making our meals or whatever it is that women do when us men are out in the field haulin’ the bacon back to the ranch. Anything that keeps ‘em from thinkin’ too hard is fine with me. All you have to do is put on your Adidas jumpsuit, put the kids in the basement, fill out your fake worker compensation claim and let the good times roll. I mean, if God wanted most Americans to get out and work rather than staying home and making babies he would tell us through a popular medium, most likely daytime television.

My favorite show is Maury. Maury Povitch always has great guests with a huge range of problems on the show. From people demanding paternity tests to people demanding maternity tests, he has it all. Some might not know this but Maury Povitch runs a farm he likes to call the “Affair Lair” where human beings are raised in pickle jars and taught to cheat on their spouses and having as many illegitimate children as possible in order to keep his show going. Good on you, Mr. Povitch, America needs people like you, you’re part of what makes America great, like the fourth of July and obesity.

I like his show so much I’m willing to overlook the fact that Maury sold his soul to Satan for some spruce gum and a three inch nail when he was in the fourth grade. That’s all Satan had to bargain with back then because Maury is actually a 3,500 year old vampire who saw the fall of Rome and sucked the blood from Jesus Christ while he was on the cross. I’m willing to overlook all of this because I believe in second chances. Maury does so much good on his show sometimes he even makes me feel like a bag of shit after watching it.






All this I did for thee...and ratings





It’s also widely known that Maury Povich has sex with chickens to get pumped up before each show. Normally I’d be kind of wary around someone like this but who am I to question him? Give a genius his space, I say. If everyone told Einstein he wasn’t allowed to be the first person to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean he would have never built that nuclear bomb that saved us from China during the Civil War. Pay attention to history folks, you can apply it to almost every modern situation.

The only gripe I have with the guy is that in 10 years he’s never returned ay of my letters, phone calls or smoke signals. I was on the show back in 1995 and I even got on his wife Connie Chung’s show once with Heidi Fleiss and let me tell ya, it was hard to figure out who was the bigger whore in that room.







Colonel Sanders, I salute you









I was on the show to prove that one of my kids was actually mine. I can’t remember which, lets just call him Whiney for fun. Anyway, some skank I had nailed in a tattoo parlor in ’92 thought she’d be cute and try and tell me that little Whiney wasn’t mine and tried to take him away from me. Well brah, every time I looked at the tattoo on my chest it’d remind me of him and I’d break down. The tattoo reads “Got Your Tickets?” Then there were two arrows pointing diagonally upwards towards my arms and the bottom line reads “To The Gun Show”.

Well the paternity test proved that I was the father and once the Lesbian S&M Crochet club had their turn on the show we got to meet Maury. It was a real honor to meet a man with such integrity. He took one look at Beth and said that he could really use her for his upcoming show called “My Wife’s Breasts Should Have Their Own Zip Code”. I tell ya, a class act all the way. We weren’t going to be in town then so we declined but Maury said to keep in touch and I don’t have to tell you who hasn’t kept up their side of that bargain.







Naiiiiled it!






I guess I shouldn’t be angry at him though, he’s a busy man. I decided to see what he’s been up to so I checked out his interweb page on the computer. While there I visited the “Maury Store”. I was hoping for something really cool like an Eight Ball Jacket or Hitler’s mustache but the only thing that really stood out was Maury Povich ringtones for your cell phone. I decided to try them and now whenever anyone calls me a woman’s voice says “No You Di’int…No You Di’int”. It’s pretty sweet, and I was getting sick of my old one anyway. It was Urkel from Family Matters saying “Did I Do That?”

Mental Floss

The other day I talked about religious imagery showing up in foods. The flip side of this coin is when food shows up in religious imagery. For instance one time I was down on my knees in this chapel while traveling through Colorado. I looked up, and I swear a stained glass window had an image of a turkey club and fries in it. I rubbed my eyes once, mouth salivating, and it was gone. But I know it was real. Luckily, there was a Perkins down the street, so when I was done praying, it was chow time.



Can I interest you angels in our Hungry Man Breakfast?







Actually, come to think of it the turkey club incident is the only time I can think of something like this happening. It's not the same thing, but this other time a palm tree fell onto the roof of my house after a really bad storm, and while rebuilding it I ran out money. Youngblood commented that my unfinished house looked like the half-built Death Star from Return of the Jedi. Youngblood makes no sense sometimes, because unless my house is round and floating in space, I don't see the comparison. A few loose boards and an unfinished rec room with plastic sheets for walls do not make an Imperial battle station, Youngblood. And no, Beth doesn't love her Padme Amidala line of beauty products. It gives her a rash.



I assure you this new Death Star will be palm tree-proof, Lord Vader




I guess Falwell's death is hitting me hard today, because I'm talking in circles, but one last thing I gotta say is how uptight my accountant Rob is. I invited him to the annual Chapman summer bar-b-q last July, and then physically forced him to join a pie eating contest. I figure it'd be good for him to get himself dirty and loosen up a bit. But the guy's such a type-A personality, these were the stains on his shirt at the end of the contest:



Rob organizes his shirt stains by size, cross-referenced by texture





Rob said he'd take care of cleaning the shirt, but I wasn't hearing it. I'd heard good things about Ole Mexican Tile Sealer as an alternative to laundry detergent. Luckily, Youngblood had picked up a batch at a hardware store while on vacation in Tijuana years earlier, and I had a bottle sitting in my shed. I poured a bit out on the lawn to test its powers before taking it to Rob's garments, and while it was clumpy and the expiry date said "09-1986," it turned the grass white instantly so I figured what the hey?



Illegal everywhere except Arizona and yo mama's house








That tile sealer ate through Accountant Rob's t-shirt faster than zombies in a daycare. Rob's never been one for high fashion, so he didn't mind, but I still felt kind of bad for ruining his duds. But he insisted he didn't care, proving it to me the next day when he wore his favorite shirt to a business meeting, a blue number that had been ripped on a fence around the nipple area years earlier. He never fixed the darned thing, and we proceeded to walk around Honolulu for the next three hours with Rob's teet hanging out.



I knew my accountant Rob was milking me, but this is getting ridiculous

The Dog Factor

I mentioned a few weeks ago that Leland had once auditioned for and starred in Fear Factor. He never told us how he did and because our TV was broken from 2001-2003 we never knew. Our TV broke because I got upset when it looked like Ross and Rachel had finally given up and I threw one of Beth’s porcelain figures through the screen. It wasn’t just one of Beth’s figures it was one with Elvis riding an American Eagle over the desert. The inscription on the bottom read “Don’t Step on My Blue Suede Freedom”. I tell ya brah, I had to do a lot of chores to work that one off. She even made me chief Bedazzler on three shipments of new clothes she got in from Bargains ‘N Bins.

Anyway, it took a lot of coaxing but he’s finally let me write about what happened on the show. In the end I had to give him my autographed DVD set of “Charles in Charge” plus my Dale Earnhardt Sr. commemorative jock strap I got on the Ebay. I’m cool with it though because the last time I was over to his place I distracted him with an old rubix cube I found in a parking lot and I stole his copy of “Chicken Soup for People Allergic to Chicken Soup’s Soul”. It’s a first edition so I think it’ll cover my loss.







I’m gonna miss you Horshack







Leland said that the first stunt he was made to do on Fear Factor was to swing from the top of an abandoned building and through a plate glass window on the 35th floor of the adjacent office building. Then they had to sit down in the room and change into a suit before the morning board meeting began. Contestants who were discovered as a fraud were eliminated. Any contestant that managed to sit through the entire meeting made it through to the next round. Bonus points would be given to any contestant who could pass themselves off as an executive and Joe Rogan would personally high five any male contestant who sexually harassed a hot female “coworker” successfully.

Leland said he made it through the window no problem but some of his coworkers thought his tattoos and multiple cuts looked suspicious for an ad salesman. He ended up falling asleep during the board meeting and falling face first in the lap of a female salesperson so he didn’t get any bonus points but Joe Rogan high fived the shit out of him. It was pretty close between the other five contestants, three made it successfully through the boardroom, one was disqualified and is still fighting a harassment suit to this day and another one was killed instantly.







That show was getting waaay too easy









The second stunt was a mystery to everyone until seconds before they had to do it. They led them to an old room and uncovered a rickety old pool table. On the pool table was three jars filled with human feces, donkey testicles covered in Joe Rogan’s semen and Hubba Bubba. The objective was to make one break on the pool table, the number of balls that remained on the table after the break represented the number of times you had to eat from the first two jars. If you sunk the eight ball you got to eat from the Hubba Bubba jar to take the taste out of your mouth.

Leland said it was then that he thanked his lucky stars I took him to the pool hall more than school. He became the first pool champion in Colorado that wasn’t old enough to drink. Anyway, he sunk the eight ball and only had one other ball left on the table so he ate a donkey’s nut with the gum to make it go down easier. I guess that’s why he always pukes whenever I blow one of my mind blowing bubbles when we’re waiting for a perp.

One contestant made it through but just barely. Two other contestants who had never played pool before scratched on the break and now they both eat from a tube that’s inserted into their neck.






We got next!








So, in case you haven’t been keeping score, Leland made it to the final round. It consisted of driving a car onto two wheels, climbing out of the window and onto the door of the car. Then you had to jump onto a moving train and commandeering it. Then you had to apply a special lever that activated giant springs that made the train 50 feet tall a la Bugs Bunny to avoid the oncoming space shuttle on wheels that was barreling down the track. The winner would have bragging rights and of course the 50 G’s. The loser would be shamed on national television and possible have to be identified by dental records.

This was a huge problem for Leland because he doesn’t have a driver’s license. He’s failed the last 14 times because he doesn’t know the difference between double parking and parallel parking. Also, in Honolulu you have to use your own car, A&E won’t let us use the SUV for insurance purposes. I’ve got our own car rigged up from my alcoholic days. I redirected the windshield washer hose to go inside of the car, then I filled the windshield washer canister with Seagram’s 88. That way when you press the washer button a fresh shot of hooch comes into your car, all you need is a glass and an open mind. The first few drinks will kind of taste like washer fluid but after a week or so it’s all Seagram’s baby. Anyway, the driver’s ed guy found out about this and I can’t figure out how to fix it so he’s failed Leland every time.




This is how I drive to the office every morning




Needless to say, Leland didn’t win Fear Factor. He cranked up the stunt car and drove in reverse by mistake, running over the other contestant. Luckily it was a female and Joe Rogan was willing to do mouth to mouth plus give her an hour long heart massage to make her feel better. Neither of them won the money in the end. Luckily, he was given the Fear Factor home edition and Joe Rogan’s vote as “funniest contestant of all time”.

Dog Soldier

I don’t like to talk about it, but I was in ‘Nam. Tough times when I was over there, no doubt about it. One time I was in the shit and bullets were flying everywhere and all I remember is reciting the lyrics to “Hot Child in the City” over and over again in my head and trying to crawl inside my water canteen for protection. Not too logical, but neither is combat.



It looked bigger with the fear of death in my veins








You could say I got to ‘Nam pretty late. As part of “Cleanup Crew ’82” you could also say that technically I missed the war by at least seven years. Well guess what? The Deer Hunter and Apocalypse Now didn’t come out until the late ‘70s, and if they were the only reasons I went to ‘Nam, how the heck was I supposed to go somewhere based on stuff I saw in the movies if those movies hadn’t been released yet? Now who’s stupid?

During basic training, they asked us questions as to how we would handle various situations. The first question was, “If you are attempting to prevent someone from escaping by automobile, how do you most effectively do so?” I immediately put up my hand and said, “You blow up every gas station in the area.” My drill sergeant looked at me funny, then asked Earl, the guy sitting next to me, what he thought. Earl said, “You remove the keys from the ignition and hide them.” The drill sergeant agreed, but you have to remember he was asking this a couple months before Rambo: First Blood hit theaters. I bet he changed his tune after seeing how John Rambo conducts business.



That's okay honey, there's a Shell station just down the road




Once in ‘Nam, I got very confused. I remember I’d been pretty drunk watching The Deer Hunter years earlier, and as a result for years I believed that Vietnam was a nation of deer. I wasn’t clear on whether they were half human, half deer, or if they had deer bodies with human brains, or they were deer with deer brains, but man did Vietnam sound cool. Just a bunch of Americans fighting commie stags and bucks halfway around the world. Frankly, I didn’t understand how the war wasn’t won in under a month. You can’t hold or fire a gun with a pair of hoofs, so where’s the challenge? In particular, I remember briefly coming to during a part where Robert De Niro tries to take down a Vietcong deer in the alpine forests of Vietnam with “one shot.” After slurring “aweeeeesome,” I passed back out. Anyways, by the time I was sober and walking through the theater lobby I saw Americans and deer on the poster and the title “The Deer Hunter,” and that sealed what I believed to be true while drunk.



Me love you long time









Long story short, the Vietnamese are not a race of deer people. They are very much human. And they have guns. And they know how to shoot them. And they hate Americans. And I know all the words to “Hot Child in the City.” And it’s all my own fault, because there were no deer in Apocalypse Now, which should have clued me in. I just figured Coppola was a cheap skate and would rather pay Chinese-American actors to play Vietnamese deer than pay actual deer at full price. To complicate matters, I’m no racist, but I can’t tell the difference between Far-East Asians and wildlife. One time I was visiting Nova Scotia and I thought a moose standing on the side of the road was my good pal Patrick from Honolulu. I stopped the car and yelled at him, then Patrick the Moose rammed the shit out of the SUV I’d rented. I didn’t talk to Patrick for two years after getting back to Hawaii, and when I explained how I thought he was a Nova Scotia moose and I thought it was weird he was eating grass in a ditch near Peggy’s Cove, but I was ready to forgive him for ramming my rental he never talked to me again. Some people are so sensitive about race.



Aim for their antlers

Dog v. Bigfoot Part 2

You may remember that at the beginning of this month I got a call from my agent Doug asking me to do a special for the Sci-Fi Channel tracking down Bigfoot. Our initial attempts to follow up on all of the sightings we’ve been having around here didn’t turn up too much. Mostly because we didn’t make it out of the city, too many damned distractions and a lack of proper sustenance was to blame in my opinion but this time we were going to be ready. In addition to keeping a running log of our adventures I also decided to bring along a tape recorder to record my interviews with the people who saw the mysterious beast. I couldn’t find my regular tape recorder that I always use to remind myself where I parked the SUV at Costco so I had to resort to the first thing I could lay my hands on because I was in a hurry.










Testing 1, 2, Testi- The Cow Says: MOOOOOOOO

05:00 Hours:

Bolted out of bed like a flash, but still quite tired from our Scrabble marathon the night before. Like always, I dressed myself before I went to bed to be extra ready but one of my mace cans must have gotten loose from my belt and Beth must have rolled on it. It burst all over the sheets, no wonder I was dreaming I was in “Honey I Shrunk the Kids” and I fell in a bottle of Clorox. Eyes are as red as beets from the mace. Rip the sheets off bed and sit back down. Flick on the idiot box to wake me up, get distracted by skin flick “Unquenchable Passion 5” on Cinemax. Decide that Bigboobs, I mean Bigfoot, can wait a little longer.






Will nothing quench their passion?









05:05 Hours:

All done with the movie, kick Youngblood off of the couch, a little retribution for cheating on Scrabble. He tricked me into believing “Zaxaquak” was an extinct Turkish reptile. He landed it on a triple word score, still kicking myself for not challenging it. Write reminder on fridge to destroy Scrabble board.

05:45 Hours:

Sandwiches made, by me this time. Leland arrives and asks if it’s cool if his kids go along because his new wife just got a job down at the IHOP workin’ the early bird special and there was no time to find a sitter. I tell Leland to just drop the little spunks off at my house to mingle in with the others. Leland refuses because last time he did that he couldn’t remember which ones were his and he ended up raising two of my kids by mistake for seven months.

06:15 Hours:

All the talk about IHOP and early bird specials got me cravin’ a chocolate chip pancake platter. We roll on out to IHOP and chow down in order to get my daily syrup quota for the day. Quick check of the parking lot turns up no sign of Bigfoot.











How can Bigfoot resist their Rooty Tooty Fresh ‘N Fruity Combo?

07:00 Hours:

Finished eating, didn’t leave tip because waitress asked me if I was one of the Nelson brothers. Get ten miles away from the IHOP and Leland remembers he left one of his kids in the Pancake Playroom at the restaurant. We turn around and find him crying next to the maple syrup slide but calm him down with some more sugar and we’re off once again.

07:45 Hours:

Finally find our first Bigfoot eyewitness. Name is Rick Wickens, he runs a comic book type shop in Honolulu, specializing in Star Wars toys and trading cards from the ‘80s. With cameras rolling we went into to record our first interview:

Dog: Hello…Rick? We called earlier, we’re here to ask you a few questions about Bigfoot.

Rick: Hello, yes, you were supposed to be here three days ago, now I am most inconvenienced. So, if you’ll excuse me I’m in the middle of an online argument. Some nerf herder in Milwaukee thinks the whipcord Boba Fett fires at Luke Skywalker during the battle at the Sarlacc Pit couldn’t withstand more than 105 lbs of pressure in the first place, thus rendering it totally useless, what an idiot!

Youngblood: Just chill brah, we’re here for Bigfoot. Now, stop typing and come on over here, don’t make us mace you.

Dog: That’s enough, Youngblood, I’m in charge here.

Youngblood: Shithead

Dog: What was that?

Youngblood: Nothin’.

Dog: Look Rick, we just need to get a few answers from you regarding your encounter a little while ago. What did you see exactly?

Rick: What I saw, I cannot exactly say. It was like Chewbacca but not like Chewbacca at the same time. What it was my friend, was a mystery wrapped in a conundrum, like Luke and Lea’s relationship in A New Hope.

Dog: Where did you see this Chewbacca?

Rick: I cannot divulge the whereabouts of my person as it is most confidential to me and my significant other, nothing will force the information from me.

Dog: There’s a box of Krispy Kreme’s in it for ya

Rick: I was at the park with my girlfriend

Dog: I’ll throw in some Twizzlers too

Rick: Ok my boyfriend

Dog: And some Teddy Grahams

Rick: Ok I was by myself reading Wonder Woman Issue 75 and pleasuring myself! Vile fiend, now where’s my candy?

Dog: Leland, go take that candy from your kid and give it to Rick. Ok, you were in the park, then what happened?

Rick: Well, I was at the park like I said, and something rammed my Chevette, knocking it all over the place. I felt like commander Adama in Battlestar Galactica defending against a Cylon attack. I’m referring of course to the 1978 version with Lorne Greene not that pile of Abzorbaloff dung that came out in 2003. Sometimes when I think about what those butchers did with that show I get so upse-

Dog: Okay, okay, calm down, here’s your puffer. Can you tell me what happened next?

Rick: That’s it. I got out of the car and it was gone. All that was left was a large tuft of hair stuck in my grill.

Dog: Can I see the hair?

Rick: Of course you may not. I’ve glued it to the head of my life size Dana Scully mannequin, all I need to finish it is an official FBI badge and a set of someone’s eyes. Do you know any females?

Dog: I think we’re done here. We’ll get back to you if we find Bigfoot or anyone willing to take all of those Jobriath LP’s off your hands.

End Recording






Rick on his honeymoon with Darth Gayder






Talking to Rick gave me a migraine the size of New Mexico so we decided to call it quits for the day. So far it’s been close to a total of 38 hours searching and we ain’t got nothin’ to show for it. Normally I’d be afraid of missing all of these deadlines but we’re talking about the Sci-Fi Channel here, so the worst thing they’ll probably do is get the cast of “V” to send me angry letters.

This is Your Captain Speaking

To give back to the Honolulu community, I often volunteer myself to various functions around town on weekends. A few weeks back I judged a Captain Planet look-a-like contest. I don’t buy all this environmental hooey, but the kids seem to like Captain Planet, so I figured it couldn’t hurt anybody. If you aren’t familiar with Captain Planet, he’s like an ‘80s cross between Liza Minnelli and Tygra from the Thundercats cartoon. Pollution, smog, and toxic waste is like Kryptonite to Captain Planet, and it can kill him. This makes him a grade A puss in my books, and I don’t understand how someone with green hair and blue skin doesn’t already have an overload of toxins in their body, but again, it’s all for the kids so I just shut up and do my judging. Personally, I think it would be good for the Captain to hit a city like L.A. and get some car exhaust in his lungs to put some hair on his yellow-globed chest, but whatever. You can’t tell these ozone-huggers anything.













The first contestant was stiffer than Youngblood at a local strip joint, with a face so botoxed he couldn’t even frown when I told him he looked like the biggest fruit in the entire Captain Planet basket. Don’t get me wrong, I like beauty, but if it ain’t natural it ain’t worth it. Bringing Ted Turner along was a cheap tactic, though I gained an appreciation for saving the planet from Turner’s presence, because if we don’t start preserving our planet now we won’t be able to dig up fossils like the ex-Mrs. Jane Fonda for contests like this one.














Contestant two must have dressed in the parking lot of the museum where the contest was held, because if he had to walk more than two hundred feet wearing that thing he’d have encountered at least three ass whoopings along the way. Everyone more or less looked like Captain P. on this day, but this particular guy brought the dweebiness of his get up out more than anyone else. The bully at this kid’s school will be salivating if this pic ever gets out, and frankly I was tempted to beat his ass myself just on principle.














Ted Kennedy’s skin doesn’t look this blue after a weekend bender in The Hamptons. What the heck is going on here? Your hair is supposed to resemble Captain Planet’s, not K.D. Lang’s circa Constant Craving. The brightness of this contestants’ get-up is only topped by the dimness of the contestant himself. And carrying a laptop around with you doesn’t make you look any smarter, dumbass.


















Gore, the shades aren’t fooling anyone. I know it’s you. And even if the disguise did work, bringing Tipper along as your cheering section gives you away cold. Here’s an Inconvenient Truth: you just locked up last place in this look-a-like contest.


















Okay, this is just lazy. Your hair is brown, you’re wearing cross-trainers, I’m pretty sure at least two/thirds of your costume is made from an altered baseball uniform, and everyone knows Captain Planet played the contrabass not the saxophone in his high school band, moron. Do some research before half-assedly entering a look-a-like contest.

The winner:














Sure, this guy is only wearing a green wig, some red gloves and a t-shirt, and he didn’t even make an effort to colour his skin blue, but if nothing else Captain Planet is about two things: slugging beer and poontang. This dude may not have the look, but he’s got Captain Planet’s spirit and love of partying down in spades. And after a long day of mending branches on saplings or whatever it is Captain P. does for a living, who doesn’t want to relax with a harem of enviro-hos?