Garsh, Ryan, shouldn’t you be morally upright before posting that crap?


I wish this happened on my wall. This dude shouldn’t have a drunk masturbation in truck story if he’s going to lambast homosexuality on the Internets. People like Courtney are quick to remember that kind of thing.

Via Reddit


Here I was thinking I was already cool


Image via Wikipedia

This summer, energy prices will have skyrocketed along with every other price tag you thought was going to stay at 1920’s prices.

So here are eight relatively green ideas for saving money this summer when you’re trying to keep your wife’s grubby hands off the thermostat.

Number nine would have been vodka lemonades, but I think they were trying to keep the list kid friendly.

Anything you can add to this list? And feeding your dog tons of ice cubes and then having her lick your face might not work for me.



When I first read the list from above, I immediately had my eye on the economical gadgets section (#2). There’s a product called the BedFan® which would be perfect for a guy like me. I downloaded the manual, and cracked up. This is the CEO Kurt Thompkins that invented the BedFan® with his lovely family.


Hey Kurt, if you ever google yourself and stumble on this blog, I would like to offer you a 20% discount on photography services to have your family shot redone … and redone cool … like the product you invented.

One thing you could do to make this shot better is have that stuffed dog photoshopped from the image. That would be tremendous!

You’ve saved the date … now what?


Ain’t no mystery that the world is ending in eight days. We’re fortunate to live in an age when apocalyptical messaging can be sent out so effectively. We know what to expect. We know we all should become temporary Christians on May 20 … just in case.

Ten seconds before the stroke of midnight on May 21, all of us can count down in unison like the New York Times Ball Drop … and cheer on May 22 that we’ve made it through one more End Times, Yeshua-is-coming back hocus pocus nonsense.

Wait, did I recommend that you should repent temporarily?

Whoops, I meant you should befriend as many gullible Christians as possible and have them will all their stuff over to you.

Maybe will isn’t a good idea. Get all their stuff on Friday, May 20. When they come knocking on your door on May 22, tell ’em “Dave’s not here.”

Repeat as necessary until they go away.

And don’t forget … providence always keeps his promises. 

It’s Friday the 13th … get your superstition on

This has been a weird week.

Last week, we ended the week with the conversation about Dr. Johnston’s evil perspective on abortion. The conversation reached into this week. I never know what’s going to strike a conversational chord with you all.

This week, the hypothetical post about my friend Sam and his concerns over his brother marrying a klingon muslim got some interesting responses. I really appreciate everyone taking a stab at that one. I was really hoping for a couple more of you to add your $0.02 or even $0.03 (thanks Glock!).

Lately, I’ve been putting my phone on airplane mode at night. I hate when it buzzes all night long with penis enlargement emails and UPS telling me I have a package waiting ..

But my analytical paranoia sets in when I do it. “What if someone calls me with an emergency in the middle of the night?” Then I say, “No one has called me in the middle of the night in years.”

What happens is I wake up around 5:30 or 6 every day usually from a nightmare. I will reach over and grab my phone, and turn off airplane mode. This has been going on for a couple weeks.

Wednesday night, I turned on airplane mode, fell asleep. Woke up at 1 a.m. Peed. Went back to bed. At 5:30 a clap of thunder startled me awake.

I laid there with my heart pounding. I reached over and turned off airplane mode. My phone buzzed with a voicemail from 4:20 a.m.. I’m not making a pot joke. It was a phone call from my brother. My heart sank into my stomach.

I listened to the message. My brother said that my dad woke up with horrible chest pains. He was going to take him and my mom and sister to the hospital.

Fortunately, all is okay. A heart cath showed that my dad’s 68-year old heart is in great shape. At the moment, doctors aren’t sure what happened, and he’ll go for followup doctor visits soon.

I called his phone later Thursday morning to check in with him. His phone was off. I left a message. I said, “I know I stress you out, but I hope it’s not more than you let on.”

At around 5 p.m., he called me back. Mom was driving him home from the hospital. He was in great spirits, and even cracked two jokes. He said, “Whelp, no sex for a week. That’s what a brochure told me anyway.” I could hear laughter around him. He laughed too. Then he said, “The brochure also said that I couldn’t lift five pounds for the next week.” Pause. “How am I supposed to use the bathroom?”

Insert rim shot.


Pow. Bang. Zoom.

There’s one thing great about my old man … his sense of humor lightens up most situations.

I should credit him as the originator of the honk.