Let's Make a Steal

Oh man what a day. In the mornin’ we piled the whole clan into the SUV and headed over to The Antiques Roadshow Honolulu. Looks like they finally took notice to all of my letters. I’ve got a whole room full of priceless heirlooms that have either been handed down to me over the years or simply presented themselves in my neighbor’s shed.

We got there kinda of late though because Leland got us lost and we ended up at “Tyler’s Chainsaw and Trading Card Shop” instead. The whole place reeked of ganja so as soon as my nose hit the door I went into “orange alert”. My alert system is pretty much the same as the one George W. Bush uses except mine’s for meth-heads and his is for terrorists. I think I thought of it before September 11th but I’m cool with G.W. usin’ it. If those Liberals get into office though I’ll be recallin’ that puppy back faster than one of those defective Tickle Me Elmo things that tells children to go fuck themselves.


















The streets shall flow with the blood of the unbelievers…wheeee!

Turns out the ganga smell that had set me off was just some Lotus-berry or Cran-fantastic incense or some other homosexual product so my alert level went back to its usual state, which is orange, I’m always on high alert you should know that by now people. Some of the products in the shop brought me way back man. I bought some Big League Chew but I don’t know if they stopped making it in 1987 or if that’s the last time ‘ole Tyler boy bought it because it tasted like oven cleaner.

After I vomited the “Chew” out the door I went to ask where exactly this Tyler was, I had a few words for him regarding customer satisfaction, namely mine. Turns out there is no Tyler, he was the former owner who had a chainsaw shop there. The current owners ran out of money making their sign so they just left “And Trading Card Shop” up. They must have spent all of their startup money on scales and ingredients to make their homemade drugs because talkin’ to the owner was like talking to Speedy Gonzales on PCP.

I was just about to give the ‘ole junky monkey a piece of my mind when I noticed his awesome collection of trading cards. I gotta tell ya brah I was like a kid in a candy store, but not with that stale shit like this place had, a candy store with premo candy. He had cards there I’d never seen before, I would’ve bought the entire Home Improvement TV show set for $800 but Beth wouldn’t let me. It even included a couple of error cards where you get to see the lower half of Wilson’s face and another one with Mark having sex with Al. What really caught my eye was the Desert Storm trading card set. It had it all, from Saddam Hussein to “Night Vision Goggles”. I bought 30 packs, I figured I could see how much the Antiques Roadshow would offer me for them if we ever figured out where the fuck it was being held.



I bet the gum tastes awesome
















If the goal was to make my day, then Mission Accomplished Mr. President

I also picked up a bunch of rare baseball cards. I don’t think it matters that I haven’t heard of over half of these players, it’s the picture in the card that makes it worth something. You see, I’ve got a gut like a can of Tough Actin’ Tinactin. By that I mean my gut is always dependable, it doesn’t cure athlete’s foot though, not yet, anyway. Anyway, my gut tells me that the baseball card market is due for an explosion and by buying these cards yours truly is in for a wallet explosion.







Back then that snake was the Braves’ strongest starter















Your fly’s open there, Bubbles




















Brian Jordan: Penalized for unnecessary stupidness













“Tell me Michael, who do you think would win in a fight between Voltron and Mr. T.?”






Don't mess with Texas












Hope you can track down your career, Magnum


























Usually when I’m in Las Vegas it’s the casinos that get me in the balls

After I snagged all of these cards for a steal at $250 we jumped back in the SUV and headed off to find the Antiques Roadshow. We were really late so I had to get Beth to push aside a few old ladies holdin’ their sister’s favorite dolls and watches or some other worthless crap in order to get to the front of the line. Of course once we got there I couldn’t get the duct tape off the stupid styrofoam cooler we hauled all of our stuff in. Leland and I got it off with our teeth but one of our items fell out and broke but I had a pretty good feelin’ the appraiser was going to be blown away with our cargo.


















Freedom Mirror:


$7-$12














John Wayne Clock:


$10-$15
















Signed Dukes of Hazzard photo and rare Hazzard £10 notes:


$13-$19


I guess the appraiser must have been stoned or blind or something because these items are worth a lot more than that quack things. He even told me I can’t even use the British money because according to him nobody in their right mind would accept “such utter rubbish”. I don’t think I can get the case open for it anyway, I super glued it shut 17 years ago and it looks like it’s there to say.

Well it looks like we walked away from the Roadshow down over $200. I’m still going to sneak out later and head over to Tyler’s to nab the Sanford and Son commemorative plates.

Where's My Benefit Concert?

I meant to say somethin’ about this earlier but I’ve been pretty busy trying not to get extradited and organizing my Hawaii-wide boycott of Taco Bell. I was watchin’ American Idol a little while ago and they were dishing out money left and right for disadvantaged children. I got nothin’ against this I just wish they’d send some of that green Honolulu way, I don’t evade taxes for shits and giggles you know. Actually, my agent, Doug, once tried to organize a “Dog benefit” thing with the reality show “Flavor of Love” but we couldn’t figure out what Marky Mark or whoever the hell it is on that show was saying, so we decided to dump it.


















I’ve got a good vibration for ya right here pal

What really blew the tips off my boots while watchin’ American Idol though was when Celine Dion came on stage with Elvis and did a duet. At first I thought it was an impersonator but after looking real close I realized it was the REAL Celine Dion. I honestly thought her manager had eaten her years ago. She’d probably only qualify as an appetizer though, the woman looks like Karen Carpenter’s tapeworm, am I right? I guess we’re lucky electronic Elvis didn’t eat her right there on stage. Luckily whoever runs American Idol used the guy that was a few months behind the fried peanut butter eating, hophead Elvis.















My heart will go on. Well, not Elvis’

I would’ve liked to have seen ‘em go with a more ballsy duet, like Celine Dion and Jim Morrison. Sure, now that I’m a father and a Christian I don’t approve of Morrison’s ways but back when I was snortin’ coke off of urinals I would’ve loved it brah. Actually, that’s probably a bad example because I’m pretty sure I’ve been a father since I was 13 and I also think I’ve always been a Christian but didn’t know it, at least that’s what Pat Robertson told me after I sent him that $5,000 check. I didn’t start snortin’ coke until I was 17 so I guess it kind of evens out. I’m not really sure where I’m going with this I’m just tryin’ to say having Jim Morrison on stage would have been decent.

I guess the only drawback is that I don’t think Morrison ever did a duet with anybody other than that time in Holland where he dry-humped Janis Joplin’s bottle of Southern Comfort, but I’m not sure how that’d turn out in the editing department. I bet they tried to use Morrison but Celine Dion refused because every take had her standing in a pool of Morrison’s digital piss.







C’mon baby change my diaper




Anyone familiar with my career with the American Gladiators knows I once had quite the soothing singing voice. I’ve been talking to Doug about teaming up with a dead female artist and we both think Whitney Houston is a pretty good choice. Not sure which event I will be performing at but Doug and I are shooting for the upcoming reality show “Who Wants to Date a Hooters Girl”. I'm not sure if there'll be judges there or not but if there is I've specifically told Doug I do NOT want Simon, Paula and Carl Winslow there. Those jokers couldn't judge an episode of People's Court, and that's all fake anyway.

As for song choice, you can’t lose with “I Will Always Love You” but maybe that’s a bit too obvious so I was thinking of other Whitney hits like “Hit Me Baby One More Time” or “I Don’t Need a Man”.





















If I’d been your bodyguard you’d still be alive Whitney

I’ve even hired a singing coach for the event. He’s the guy who’s helped out people like Johnny Rotten and Lemmy Kilmister. I’m not really sure how this electronic image thing works but I’m hoping they can make me at least 2 ½ feet taller, and give me one of those Fu Manchu mustaches. I’ve always wanted one of those but never been able to make it work. I’ve also requested that they use the “hot” Whitney and that we makeout onstage for the last three minutes of the song. I think this is a fitting tribute to honor the way she lived, and also died: onstage being mauled by a biker.

I tried to call Bobby Brown to get the ball rolling but he must be still in shock from her death because he sounded really intoxicated so I just let him go for now. Plus his sister or someone was in the background callin’ me a ‘crazy cracker’, something I’m also willin’ to let go because this is a time of mourning for them.

I’ll keep y’all posted on the situation. God willing in a few months I’ll be onstage singing with a dead person in a Hooter’s bar. It’s all for you, Whitney, R.I.P. sweet wahine.

Blast From the Past: Part I

I was feelin’ a bit nostalgic the other night after I found some of my great-grandfather’s stuff in our attic. There was a ton of Jezabiah’s things up there including an old pair of sunglasses made out of tar paper, a pack of smokes rolled in asphalt and construction plans for a gas-powered taser. I guess that’s why his remains were never found and the night he died half the village he lived in burned to the ground. My grandmother used to say it was Satan coming to claim him for his own but I guess we can put that baby to rest for good. I didn’t know that great-granddad was an inventor but I remember my grandfather telling me how Jezabiah used to come up with all sorts of new ways to beat his kids.








I couldn’t give up smokin’ just to tase someone







After findin’ all of this stuff I decided to learn more about my family’s history. I wanted to go way back, I didn’t just want to find out the differences between my family tree and Beth’s, I’m pretty sure mine has enough branches to house the Swiss Family Robinson whereas Beth’s looks like a telephone pole. I decided to go out and get some fresh air to try and figure out how I would track down my roots. Actually Beth kicked me out of the house because she was watching Cirque du Soleil on TV and I called it Cirque du So-Gay.


















Inbreds

I decided to call Youngblood for some advice. He told me I needed to go see a gynecologist so I looked one up in the Yellow Pages and off I went. I won’t discuss what happened next but remind me to kick Yongblood’s ass the next time I see him. If he leaves me one more phone message asking me if I got good ‘cervix’ I’m going to seriously freak out.

After the swelling went down I went back to the Yellow Pages to find a genealogist. I figured that they were all the same so I went with Alfred B. Pickles and his company “HistorFree”. He guarantees to track down at least 15 of your ancestors in a day or you only pay half price. I’m not sure why the word “Free” appears in the name of his company, maybe it should have been called “HistorHalf-Price” but I guess it doesn’t have the same ring to it. After I found his office though I figured being picky about the name was the least of my worries.






I hope they can validate my parking





Once I made my way past the people passed out in the hall and the toppled vending machine I found Alfred’s office. He demanded to know why his secretary didn’t ask me to wait. I told him there was no secretary in the hall. He asked me if I was callin’ him a liar, I said no. Then he laughed hysterically and asked me if I needed a job, preferably in the secretarial field. I tell ya brah I thought this guy was three sheets to the wind but I know all of these artsy fartsy types are usually on drugs, that’s why I think all libraries should be converted into roller derby rinks.

Once Alfred settled down he told me how he would track down my family. I asked him how far back could he go and he asked me how far back I thought time went. I’m pretty sure there wasn’t any history before Jesus so I said “Jesus Christ”. Alfred just reclined in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. Then he apologized and said he was so used to people swearing at him that he didn’t realize I was actually answering his question.








Alfred B. Pickles: nutjob, or genius?









Alfred told me that he could track some of my family down around Jesus’ time and probably even before then if my check cleared. He asked me to give him a day to find out some initial info, then he would call me when it was most convenient.

A day later the phone rang at 2:30 in the morning, it was Alfred. He told me that this was his most convenient time and began to explain to me how Daylight Savings Time was an Illuminati conspiracy. I didn’t have it in me to explain how he was wrong on so many levels so I just agreed to meet him at his designated place, the Jack InThe Box drive-thru. Turns out he was actually working at Jack In the Box and I had to order two Jumbo Jack’s with cheese to get the information on my first ancestor.

Written on a series of soiled napkins, Alfred told me that the Chapman’s can be traced as far back as Ancient Egypt. He identified a man named Djadogo, a special assistant to the pharaoh trained in tracking down escaped slaves and all around party animal. Djadogo was executed when it was discovered he carved offensive graffiti into the side of the Sphinx, ending a long feud between archaeologists whether a pharaoh named “Dinx” actually existed.








Djadogo offering an escaped slave an ancient cigarette










That’s all Alfred had for me this week, he told me he would have more information on my ancestors soon, unless I died. If that was the case he told me he would dance the Charleston on my grave.

Reboot My Head

I decided to take the day off today, ranting about Al Gore makes my head hurt and I’m still slightly messed up from the Chito Patch. Beth found me this morning making coffee in a frying pan wearing nothing but an oven mitt (not on my hand) and she made me stay home. So, I wrapped myself up in my “Good Times” blanket and settled in front of the ‘ole idiot box. I wanted to watch the eight straight episodes of MacGyver being shown on TBS but I had to wait for Beth to finish her Chuck Norris workout DVD. We got it pretty cheap because it’s in German or Swedish or something and probably pirated too. Beth can’t figure out what he’s sayin’ in the lesson but that don’t matter because Chuck Norris speaks from the gut, and sometimes the fists.





Sprechen Sie Dog?












I made Beth shut the video off though when I saw that the MacGyver episode “Ghost Ship” was on using our picture-in-picture feature. “Ghost Ship” is the one where MacGyver comes across Bigfoot in the Alaskan wilderness and I needed to study MacGyver’s techniques for when I go back into the field after that monster.

Beth made me put her workout video back on when MacGyver finds out that Bigfoot is actually a guy in a suit aimed at distracting MacGyver from evil oil barons. I think I got the gist of it though, I just have to make sure that when I do try to find Bigfoot it’s snowing really hard and the moon is in its “Waning Gibbous” phase. While Beth went back to her workout I decided to work on the MacGyver banner I’ve been making to drape off of the back of our SUV:










The only President to appoint a Swiss Army knife to Secretary of State

You see, MacGyver and I share a common bond, we don’t need guns to get the job done. Where I use bear mace and tasers, Macgyver uses dental floss and spruce gum. I’d like to see George W. stay in the White House just as much as you but until we change the Constitution we need to look ahead. We need a guy who’s responsible, someone who can lead the American people and, if needed, make a homemade land mine using pine cones and a toaster oven.

The only place we stray is that MacGyver truly hated guns where if I had my way I’d have two M-60’s for arms. But MacGyver knows how to survive and I respect that, just like I respect tattoos that look an animal is bursting through your skin. I even pressured Leland to audition for the 2003 WB pilot “Young MacGyver” but the producers said his multiple tattoos and foul language conflicted with Young MacGyver’s persona. Must have conflicted with Young MacGyver’s persona of bein’ a douche-bag if you ask me.







Tune in next week when Young MacGAYver is captured and forced to act his way out of a paper bag.

I was bored with makin’ the MacGyver banner and I had run out of macaroni and glitter anyways so I decided to crank up the ‘ole internet machine and play around some. After a few minutes I cam across the most amazing thing I’d ever seen, it was a baby, but it was dancing! It was dancing all over my screen brah, it couldn’t be stopped. Well, I laughed so hard I coughed up blood which probably wasn’t a good sign but fuckit I’m havin’ too much fun here.





They will NEVER be able to top this





Just then little Gary boy came over and wanted to read up on Harry Potter. I think Harry Potter qualifies as Devil worship, one time I caught Leland playing Dungeons and Dragons and gave him a whoopin’ he’ll never forget. I beat him mostly because of the Devil worship thing but to be honest some of it was just for bein’ a geek. Beth seems to think Harry Potter’s alright so I let him look at it. There was a Harry Potter personality test you could take to see what character you were. Well, I entered in all the info and this is who I came out as:



Dudley Dursley

Self centered, abnoxious eating machine without a magical fibre!


I have no clue who this character is but he looks like he was face first in the butter churn the day God handed out brains.

Next to this was a Harry Potter name generator. I entered in my full name and what I got was…Dean. Dean? What the hell kind of magical fairy land is this supposed to be brah? Watch out! It’s the evil sorcerer/cable installer, Dean! Even I could come up with a better fantasy name then that, I don’t know what those tools are thinkin’ over at Harry Pot-head but they better get their act straight if I’m gonna let little Gary boy keep watchin’.

Next up was the Lord of the Rings personality test and let me tell ya these boys knew what they were doin’:

You are most like Gimli. Most people think you're pretty rough, but you're actually rather sophisticated. Unlike others, you don't need everything to be perfect.







Nothing says sophistication like a fat midget with an axe

Well brother I was on a roll so I decided to try the Pirate name generator, Duane Chapman came out as “Cap’n Hannibal Deadweight” which is a crock of shit because if I was a pirate I’d be known all over the Six Seas for my ferocious crew and my love of boot-ay if you catch my drift.





Yeearr, this be degradin’ says I




Next up was the Rap Star name generator. I came out as “Killer G” which is what I assume every rap star’s name is anyway.

Last but not least I tried out the Jedi name generator. This one was a bit different, it asked me for my first and last name, last name of favorite actor, Norris, of course. It also asked me for my hometown and the name of any prescription drug. I entered in Honolulu and Cialis. It came up with “Chadu Nohan of the planet Cialis”.






I find your lack of brains disturbing




All of this inter-webbing has got me pretty tired so I think I’ll call it a day, plus Beth just interrupted me by giving me one of her special daiquiri drinks. She calls it the Hemmingway Special, it seemed fitting because after I tasted it I wanted to blow my brains out. I don’t know why I bothered trying it because I don’t trust anything attached to the name Ernest Hemmingway after I got duped into buy A Farewell to Arms thinking it was the biography of Def Leppard’s drummer.

Built Like a Brick Doghouse

I’ve been thinking about my own health recently, ever since I threw a beat-down on a guy who I thought was an ice head. In the end it turned out to be the wrong address and I was really beating on the ice head’s neighbor. In my defense it was Youngblood who handed me the piece of paper upside down with the address on it. Father McCormick is going to be fine though, after a few more years of physical therapy he should get close to 60% mobility back on his left side and everyone’s glad to hear he’s able to digest solids now.





Don’t get up, Father. Haha he loves that gag



Now I’m going to do myself a ‘solid’ and make sure that in case someone mistakes me for a criminal (it happens more than you think) I’m able to survive. The first thing to do is to lose some weight so I consulted the inter-web to find out the best ways to do this.

My first choice was The Chito Patch created by Texas radio personality Tom Martino. I figured anyone from the same State as the greatest president of the last two centuries is golden in my book. Here’s what Tom’s representatives had to say about the Chito Patch:

"Tired of false claims and advertising? So are we! You can believe what this man says ... Tom has made a distinguished career of exposing liars, cheats, rip-offs and scams... when he likes something ... you can bet it works!"

Like this promo says, I am tired of false claims and advertising, I’m not just tired of false claims in advertising, I’m tired of all false claims and all advertising in general. Thanks Tom, I wasn’t aware of how much I hated basic deception before this. And the line “…when he likes something…you can bet it works!” made me think, what if Tom likes to put his balls in a vice? I couldn’t question his reasoning though, anyone who puts so many “…” in his writing has to be smarter than the average Joe.





That horse lost over 350 pounds on the Chito Patch










The patch claims to be made of 100% South African Hoodia, I have no idea what that is but one time I hot-knifed some South African hash on a stove in the back of my friend’s RV and for about four hours I thought the RV was driving me. Don’t fuck with South Africa is what I’m trying to say here.

Apparently Hoodia tricks the brain into thinking you ain’t hungry, I don’t mind forcing my brain to question the plain truth. Hell, I’ve been married five times folks, I think I’m pretty used to having my mind changed a few times.

After reading up on this patch I decided to buy a three year supply of patches. I only buy in bulk, I’ve got a small barn out back loaded with pallets of MagiDye Hair Cream and Mr. Noodle.

So you’re supposed to put one patch anywhere on your body and take it with a ChitoGold capsule but I never go with the add-ons. That’s why none of my cars have airbags. That and because I believe airbags interfere with God’s will and should be considered sacrilegious.













Hope you can put your arm back on in HELL, Astar

Anyway, to compensate for the capsules I just put seven patches on. I didn’t see anywhere in the instructions that said not to combine the Chito Patch with the nicotine patch because I have to tell ya, after I apply those nicotine patches in the morning ad space is pretty limited on this work of art if you know what I mean.

After slappin’ on the patches I went on my usual workout routine which includes eating 13 raw eggs and spending 45 minutes on my Gazelle Power Plus. This thing’s endorsed by Tony Little, a true American. I used to own a Galileo Magnifico until I found out it was developed in the Soviet Union to train cosmonauts, then I threw it in the trash. I also freaked out once when I found out someone had put Russian dressing on my salad at Jungle Jims and you don’t even wanna know what happened to me at the theatre during Rocky IV. I know it was time to stop using the Gazelle when the album “Tormato” by Yes finished so I climbed off and wound down the way I always do, by bench pressing Beth 35 times and shot-gunning 3 Red Bull.





Float like a butterfly Mr. Little, float like a butterfly





After doing all of this I started to feel a little off kilter. In fact, Beth found me three hours later wedged into our neighbor’s air exchange vent. I was sweating profusely, experiencing periodic vision loss as well as hallucinations and I had sharp abdominal pains. Actually, I was experiencing all of the side effects of Cialis except for the four-hour boner, something I would have welcomed at that point, not while I was stuck in the vent though.

I was still pretty messed up from all of the side effects and Red Bull, my behavior had two modes, crack addict and drunken sailor but I had my vision back so I decided to call the Chito Patch customer service line. Like all true Americans, I record all of my phone conversations. Here’s my convo with little missy down at Chito Land:

Mrs Chito: Hello and welcome to the Chito Patch customer service line, my name is Sandy how may I help you today?

Dog: Yeah listen Randy your patch is screwin’ with my mojo or somethin’ because I put ‘em on see but I think they’ve got ahold of me ‘cause I just got out of a freakin’ air vent and my stomach hurts like a bastard and Tony Little –

MC: Sir, calm down please, you say you took the Chito Patch and you don’t feel well?

Dog: Tru dat

MC: Ok sir, can I please ask, did you take them as directed?

Dog: I took ‘em as I please, NOBODY directs the Dog ‘cept for ma lad-ay, I love ‘er, I really do…c’mere Beth and tell tha voice here how much tha Dog luvs ya.

MC: Ok, sir..sir? Can I just –

Dog: Wellllllllll, she’s all you’d ever want, she’s the kind you’d like to flaunt and take to DINN-ER

MC: Sir, if you didn’t take them as directed I would advise going to a doctor as soon as possible

Dog: DOCTOR doctor, give me tha news, I gotta…now you do it baby

MC: Pardon me?

Dog: I said doctor doctor, give me tha news I gotta….now you finisssh tha song

MC: Sir you need to go to a doctor immedia-

Dog: Jush finish tha song, please, do it once, do it for tha Doggy, c’mon…Doctor doctor, give me tha news I gotta…

MC: Bad case of loving you?

Dog: Yeeeahh you got it Andy, you got ‘er Pontiac oh yeah. I’m gonna hang up now thanks fer callin’, give my love to whoever you are, I’ll tell Beth you said hi

MC: No, sir you really need to…CLICK





Checkmate, Chito Patch



After I came to, Beth got all of the patches off of me with our Dyson vacuum cleaner and I started to feel a bit better. Turns out because I didn’t use the patch as directed I can’t get a refund and Doug tells me that my temporary insanity idea probably won’t hold up in court. All I can say is, Tom Martino, you better watch out because pissin’ me off can cause serious side effects such as feelings of anxiety and a sudden loss of teeth.

An Inconvenient Toot

No, I'm not talking about the one I cut at the White House Correspondents' Dinner a few weeks back, although that was pretty embarrassing. I'm talking about Albert Arnold Liar Liar Pants on Fire Gore's b.s. movie about global warming. I don't know what offended me more, Gore's phony baloney stories of dragons flying out of the ocean and chewing the heads off of anyone who lives near a coastline, or Gore expecting me not to fall asleep while he stood in front of a giant computer screen flapping his pink Tennessee gums for two hours. You shoulda put it to song buddy boy, more people would've listened. Before I say anything else though I ask you to watch this:

Water World Intro on something called YouTube...wait, isn't that the band that sings 'Mysterious Ways'? (Also, a warning: It's in Frog, so if you can understand it that means you're a Benedict Arnold. No matter about the language...it's the visuals that Gore stole)

Pretty imaginative there Al. You took the first two minutes of a sci-fi classic and made a real-life tragedy out of it. Costner, I'll deal with you later - long hair, leather vest and pants, bronzed skin, fake aboriginal jewelry, who you trying to kid son? Send a fan note next time, it'll save you a lawsuit - but Gore! You ain't getting off that easy.



The sentences for identity theft are stiffer than you think big shot








If you were a politician in the 1950s, we'd all be plowing our way to the center of the earth with Pat Boone right now. I can just see you standing up on screen with dirt across your face, wearing goggles, and saying, "Discovering Atlantis inside the Earth's core isn't a liberal or a conservative problem. It's a human problem. We need to cross the floor and work together in locating The Sub-Mariner."



No doubt Al Gore's favorite movie growing up








Or how about the movie Them? After watching it, you'd be ready to run on a campaign of pulling out of Iraq in order to prepare for the more serious threat of giant mutant ants attacking the United States. It really gets my goat that I get accused of being unreasonable because I believe every unborn American baby is a citizen of the U.S.A. the second a family discusses planned parenthood and that commies of any age should die as soon as possible, but at least I don't base my facts on the movies. Or more to the point, I base my facts on movies that actually make sense, like Die Hard and Rambo and Total Recall. Last time I checked, the horse manure detector in this old noggin' was working just fine, and Mr. Gore, your movie is no Total Recall.



Better protect Tipper from the giant mutant ants...the giant mutant ants in your head







Thinking back, I betcha crazy old Uncle Al was behind all that talk in the '80s about holes in the ozone layer, and how they wouldn't let the Olympics be held in Antarctica because there was an ozone layer hole causing problems and besides Antarctica didn't have its own Olympic ring anyways and all that sort of talk though I might have made the Olympics part up, but I for one knew right away that all this talk of ozone holes was hooey. How did I know? Because there's no such thing as the ozone layer, that's how! If a doctor told you that your fifth testicle was swollen, you wouldn't worry because you don't have a fifth testicle, so how do these liberals get away with it? (Which reminds me, The Dog gives a big shout out to all my fans who watch Dog the Bounty Hunter on channel Kiev 96 near Chernobyl...how you all doing?)



Anywhere, anytime buddy









Believe me, if global warming was real, the Dog would be worried about it more than anyone. Look at me: I live on the islands of Hawaii, the melanocytes in my skin are holding hands just trying to stay together, and this leather get-up of mine is unbearably fucking hot to begin with let alone if temperatures started going up even more. You can trust me on this one Dog fans, you have nothing to worry about. You'll know global warming is real the day I open a bounty hunting shop on the top of Mount Everest because it's the only land left above water, I start using motor oil as suntan lotion, and I start chasing tweakers while wearing nothing but Speedos and cowboy boots. Until then, you're fine.



Yeah, I thought so







Meantime, Al, just keep stacking your lies up like pancakes, and I'll keep pouring sweet syrup over them and eating them for breakfast each morning with bacon, eggs, and coffee. And now I'm off to rent Supersize Me. I hear it's about Mickie D's being bad for your health. Heh Heh, what will these liberals think of next?




That would be God telling you to shut yer yapper and let Mrs. God - aka Mother Nature - do her thang

I Bring in the Clowns

It was a pretty slow day at the office, I was tryin’ to figure out how to use our new computer because when we’re in the office Youngblood refuses to talk to me unless it’s through AOL instant messenger. He’s been teaching me what all the letters stand for in internet speak. For the longest time I thought “ROFL” meant “Right On, Freaky Lady” which is why Beth always called me an idiot whenever I responded to her questions at dinner by saying ‘ROFL’ and laughing hysterically.

The day wasn’t slow for long though, just when I thought I was going be able to take the rest of the day off and go tanning, a profile came through the fax machine. Actually, I probably would have had time to go tanning by the time the fax came through because I’m pretty sure our fax machine is one of the first ever built. Beth keeps buggin’ me to get a new one but ya see, my father in-law from my second marriage gave it to me and it was the only thing an in-law has ever given me that didn’t need to be put to death immediately so it’s kind of special to me.




Mickey Mouse is just one of four animated characters this baby knows




When the fax finally did come through my blood began to race. I knew this guy’s type just by lookin’ at him, he’s the type that will kill ya with a smile on his face and I swore on Dale Earnhardt Senior’s ghost that I wasn’t gonna let him claim another victim, I had to stop at nothing to find this clown:












Name: Dimples G. Pantalone

Sex: Male

Height: 5’10’’

Weight: 195 lbs

Race: Clown

Occupation: Unknown

Education: Sankey Clown & Bullfighting School, Largo, FL.

Bond: $15,000

Offence: Filling fake clown nose with cocaine, assaulting a liquor store clerk with a giant shoe and making sexually explicit balloon animals at children’s birthday parties.

This guy was obviously a Grade A dickweed. Assaulting someone automatically puts him on my shit list and I gotta tell ya brah, that list is like an old man on Viagra, it just keeps on growing. I can only assume he’s an ice head, actually I’m legally forced to say he’s an ice head. It’s in my contract with A&E, I’m in there with Bill Curtis and those guys over at Intervention.

I put this guy’s photo on the board and we worked out how we would catch him. Leland and Beth were to hit all of his common haunts, joke shops, novelty shoe outlets and Dollar stores. Youngblood and I stayed in the office and made some phone calls to a few of Dimples’ former associates in our area and see what we could dig up on this guy.






Fake vomit is often a stepping stone to meth




Our first call went out to Pockets McGanaracle, Dimples’ sidekick in the ‘80s. Pockets told us that he hasn’t had anything to do with Dimples for almost twenty years after Dimples replaced the helium in his tank with carbon monoxide as a gag and nearly killed him during an unexpected request for a balloon blown into the shape of the Taj Mahal.

Next we tried Clarabell Toblerone, Dimples’ last known love interest. Clarabell didn’t know where Dimples was stayin’ but she did give us a description of his car. We radioed this info to Beth and Leland who had gotten distracted with a little key-chain speaker thing that swears at you that they had picked up at a joke shop. After being called a son-of-a-bitch about four times I finally got them to stop friggin’ around and listen to what I had to say. Youngblood and I jumped in the SUV to find the car Dimples was drivin’, we had to keep our eyes sharp because anyone in the city could be drivin' a car like this:




We let our guard down for a second and this thing’s gone as a ghost




After a few hours we were about to give up. I had smoked my 3 pack limit for the day about 2 hours before and Youngblood was so worked up over this bust he was ready to cave in the chest cavity of the next Goth kid covered in makeup he saw walkin’ down the street. Beth and Leland had staked out a kid’s birthday party and had been asked to leave by the parents at first but Beth showed them some attitude and the police were called. Leland was removed forcibly by three cops, apparently it’s not looked upon too lightly to be hidin’ in a tree outside of a kid’s bedroom with a pair of binoculars whether you got your credentials from “BeABountyHunter.com” or not.

We were just about to turn it in for the day when Lady Luck dropped a “holy shit” bomb on us, brah. There was Dimples, drivin’ right past us, he had modified his car to include a megaphone and had changed his appearance completely. He stared at me as he drove by and I tell ya, that was a look of pure evil that only an ice head can give and only a former ice head can recognize:






















This shit just got REAL, mother@$%!

After a scary chase that saw speeds of up to 17 miles per hour we had Dimples in custody, but not before he got a “Dog is gay” message out through the megaphone which, I’m gonna be honest, a lot of people heard. I roughed him up a little for that but after we got him in the back of the SUV and saw that it was just the ice talkin’ I knew he’d be alright in my book. I offered him a cigarette but he said he didn’t smoke. I told him that he better start because prison is rough and that he can also use them as currency on the inside.

He finally accepted them, we destroyed all of his contraband before dragging him into the jail which included a bag of ice, a miniature nitrous oxide tank and a fake flower that shoots water that he had hidden on his ankle belt. Man, another day, another ice head behind bars. As they say in internet slang, Take The Fattest Nacho, or TTFN.

Dog v. Bigfoot Part I

So I get a call from my Doug, my agent again asking me to do a one hour documentary where I try to track down Bigfoot in response to all these sightings we’ve been having in the wilds of Hawaii. At least that’s what I thought he was asking me, he called me at 2:00 am from a club while eating a pizza. As for myself, I was dead to the world listening to my sleepin’ cd, “Even Wolves Dream” with a handful of Nytol Nighttime caplets in my gullet. Beth even had to take my Dreamer satin sleep mask off for me because I was so confused with the phone ringin’ and the wolves howlin’ at top volume.

After I got my faculties together and got Doug’s attention away from the strippers I realized what the sweet hell he was talking about. Apparently the documentary is going to be called “When Good Bigfoot Go Bad” and I was going to get paid a hefty sum to film myself, Leland and Youngblood hunting him down. He told me it was going to be aired on the Sci-Fi channel, that’s the Space channel to all you commies in Canada and ‘canal del Espacio Exterior’ to you soon to be illegal aliens down in Mexico.





I share the same dreams as wolves because I'm pretty sure wolves can dream about NASCAR




Doug told me the documentary would be aired from something like 3:00 – 4:00am so the only people who will probably see it will be alcoholics, the unemployable and guys in their early thirties with goatees and Dorito stains all over their face watching from their parents’ rec rooms with their pants around their ankles. Those guys should probably fall under the category of ‘unemployable’ as well, but I don’t care, it all translates into “cashish” for me brah.





The Sci-Fi Channel’s valued demographic






Leland and Youngblood tell me they don’t believe in Bigfoot, obviously they’ve never seen Harry and the Hendersons. I still can’t quite figure out the logistics of fitting Harry into that station wagon but all of my calls to John Lithgow have gone unanswered so I’ll just take his word for it. After watching that movie as well as "Little Bigfoot" and "Little Bigfoot 2: The Journey Home" I consider myself and expert in clepto-zoology. I tried to make both Leland and Youngblood watch those movies in preparation for our trip because once I get my head set on somethin’ I’m like…some sort of unstoppable creature who never gives up and is real hard to distract.





George Henderson must have had some custom suspension in that thing





I decided to keep a running log of our trip into the woods before and after we bagged this bitch.

05:30 Hours:

Out of bed with my mace belt attached to my clothes so I wouldn’t waste time. Called Leland and Youngblood to come and pick me up. Woke Beth up to make us some sandwiches. Skipped shower.

06:00 Hours:

Leland and Youngblood arrive to pick me up. Beth is still sleeping, I go into the bedroom with the jar of mayo, a can of tuna and a loaf of bread and explain to her how this relationship works.

07:30 Hours:

Sandwiches made and packed, don’t have room for the Igloo cooler in the SUV so had to jettison hair care products and Youngblood’s ghetto blaster, it’s gonna be one hell of a night. Beth won’t let us leave until I take out the recyclin’ but I can’t figure out what goes where with the milk cartons and Beth’s plastic eyelashes and all of that crap so I stuff it all in one bag and throw it on the curb, global warming is a myth anyway.

07:45 Hours:

We roll on out, get half a mile out of town and Leland realizes he forgot his sunglasses so we stop at a 7-11 to pick some up. Get distracted by wicked arcade game “Ms. Stacie”, owner tells us he designed it himself and shows us his lawsuit against Mrs. Pac Man.





Shame on you, Mrs. Pac Man






09:00 Hours:

Rejected owner’s requests to act as his lawyer with his new lawsuit against Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles after reading his script for “Prepubescent Samurai Geckos” that was dated 1979. Get high score on Ms Stacie with 340,000 points, beating previous player, ‘FUC’ who had 325,000 points.

09:15 Hours:

Leave the 7-11 and head over to the multiplex for a morning showing of “Wild Hogs”. I ask for small soda but the old guy at the counter hands me a container the size of the base pan on my ’69 Firebird. I explain quite calmly that I want a small soda but Rip Van Senile mumbles something about that container being the smallest size they have. I decided to just accept it and hope my shriveled bladder can handle it.

09:30 Hours:

Wild Hogs confirmed as my favorite movie of all time.




Move over Above the Law, there’s a new champ in town








During the movie I use the camera the Sci-Fi Channel gave me to make a bootleg copy of Wild Hogs. Youngblood thinks we’ll be rich as thieves selling copies of it. I wasn’t too sure how to use the camera but I think I captured the essence of the movie:




This all you need to know about Wild Hogs





12:00 Hours:

We stop at the edge of the wilderness where the Bigfoot sightings were. Decided that the 4lb box of Rasinettes I ate at the movies wasn’t enough so we open the Igloo cooler to chow down the sandwiches.

12:03 Hours:

Realize that Beth forgot to make my onion, peanut butter and egg sandwiches. It becomes impossible to focus, mission aborted.

13:15 Hours

Return to base, explain once again to Beth the importance of having the correct rations while out on a mission. Beth’s response omitted from log. End day one.

Well there you have it, not much to show for except for an awesome movie and some intense stomach pain from the theatre food. I’m gonna take some time off from chasin’ Bigfoot for the time being. When the Sci-Fi channel asks for any preliminary footage of the documentary, we’ve got some pictures of Leland in a suit we got at WalMart, that should hold ‘em off for a while.





I sure can't tell the difference