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Native Americans Took One For The Team

2 Comments | This entry was posted on Nov 26 2014

Originally Posted November 25, 2010

Thanksgiving is once again upon us and we all have one thing we can unanimously be thankful for, and that’s Christopher Columbus’ slaying of the Native American people. Yes, I realize this is more of a Columbus Day topic rather than a Thanksgiving one, but I feel they can go hand in hand. When Columbus strolled across the ocean to discover America he knew exactly what his intentions were and there was nothing wrong with what transpired during that time. I know there are plenty of haters out there who refuse to celebrate Columbus Day… “Why should we celebrate the slaughter and genocide of the Native American people? Columbus was the Devil and I desperately need something to complain about today because I’m a liberal bitch.”

Umm, why not? That’s what America is all about, motherfuckers! Showing off our dominance over another culture by any means necessary. When it came to discovering America, well, those people were asking for it. And now, for your Thanksgiving pleasure, I will re-tell the story of it’s origins…

SOME OCEAN, SOMEWHERE BETWEEN 1492 – 1502 (details are irrelevant)

Christopher Columbus, drunk on power and Captain Morgan’s spiced rum was leading his crew towards The New World. His ships consisted of the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Sofia Vergara (holy shit, HOT). Land was reportedly first spotted by deckhand Rodrigo de Triana, but that didn’t sit too well with Columbus, a man who loved credit almost as much as he loved rough sex. Triana was immediately shot executioner style and no one on that ship questioned it. The crew congratulated Columbus and marveled at his impressive eye sight.

If that boat's a rockin'...they're having sex.

Columbus’ crew arrived on the new land and was instantly blown away by the intoxicating scent of freedom. Columbus climbed atop a large boulder and screamed like mighty Thor, “I declare this land, the United States of America!” Everyone was in high spirits until the Native Americans showed up. The leader of the tribe, Chief Who-Gives-a-Shit, approached Columbus with some stupid feather hat thing. “Welcome, please accept this stupid feather hat as a peace offering”, said the Chief. “You may have our land since we are losers.” Columbus spit directly in the face of the Chief before slapping that weak-ass hat out of his hands and on to the ground. Columbus wrapped the Chief up in a full nelson before breaking his neck. Then he took a healthy bite out of the Chief’s neck and drank some of his blood. The rest of the tribe reverted back to the animals they’ve always been after seeing their leader thoroughly humiliated. They began to eat dirt and chant, but Columbus was having none of that shit. He took out his last hand grenade, kissed it provocatively, and hurled death upon the Natives. As body parts rained down on the vital crew a rumbling could be heard…

That’s when Columbus noticed the large ant hills that suddenly surrounded his men. Out of the dirt mounds crawled more Native Americans from their underground cesspool. They walked on all fours and their teeth were razor sharp. Two of the Native Americans snuck up behind Todd Columbus, Christopher’s brother, and attacked him. The Native animals thrust their talons through Todd’s chest and tore out his beating heart. With Todd’s last ounce of strength he looked at his brother and said, “You were an incredible brother and you deserve greatness. God Bless America.” Todd dropped to his knees and one of the Natives used it’s lizard tongue to pluck out Todd’s eyes and swallowed them whole. Columbus had to turn away when the other Native slithered into Todd’s body through his rectum and started walking around in the skin. Columbus, angrier than he’s ever been, turned decisively to the ugliest of the Native Americans and screamed, “What do you want from us?!” The hideous monster’s eyes were black and it muttered, “We want your souls. This is our land.” Tears streamed down Columbus’ cheeks as he watched the Native wearing Todd’s skin mating with four of it’s disgusting brethren. Columbus turned to face the creature and screamed, “Well, it’s just been revoked!” Ice Man, Columbus’ first mate tossed a sawed off shotgun to his Captain. “It’s hammer time!”, declared Ice Man. Shotgun blasts were heard throughout the land and unintentionally summoned every single Native American to the surface and out of their lairs. Columbus and his violent crew spent the next three days straight slaughtering the Native scourge.

A Native American crawling out of it's ant hill.

When the war was over Columbus and his crew were exhausted and covered in blood that was the darkest and most immoral red you’ve ever seen. “Well, this shirt is ruined”, said Columbus. Ice Man limped up to Columbus’ side and coughed up some bile. “We should call this part of the country Washington D.C.”, suggested Ice Man. “What does the D.C. stand for?”, asked Columbus. Ice Man, with the most sadistic smile on his face, said, ” Dead cunts”. Columbus chuckled, but it was obviously a pity laugh since Columbus didn’t care much for that word, let alone Ice Man’s sometimes misogynistic and inappropriate humor. That’s when Columbus noticed the severe wound on Ice Man’s leg. Columbus looked up and said, “You’ve been bit…”. “Ain’t no thang but a chicken wing, Chris. I’ll be alright.” Columbus wiped his eyes once again. He hadn’t cried this much since the season finale of Friends. “We can not let it spread…”, whispered Columbus.

They have Columbus' bloodstained puffy shirt displayed at the Smithsonian. It was the original inspiration for the Seinfeld episode.

That night Christopher Columbus buried both his brother and best friend in the newly emancipated soil. Another success, but at what cost? At the very least, Columbus knew there was finally nothing left to worry about.

…but he didn’t notice the eggs that laid within the brush near the graves. He didn’t notice any of the eggs that were scattered throughout the new land…

1600: EXACT LOCATIONS UNKNOWN

In the year 1600, the eggs hatched. Hundreds of them. The Native Americans crawled out of there shells and back underground to plan their next attack. They would stay underground for the next twenty-one years. While underground, they studied human culture and adapted their movements and personalities. And waited…

1621: PLYMOUTH, MASSACHUSETTS

The inaugural Thanksgiving was currently taking place. The Pilgrims of Plymouth Rock were initially suspicious and paranoid of the Native Americans (as was the nature of Americans), but eventually said “fuck it” and had dinner with them. The Native Americans seemed to really understand the concept of sharing and humanity. The Pilgrims were pretty impressed. The only thing that seemed somewhat off was their movement. It seemed stiff and rehearsed. Not to mention now and then their knees would bend the opposite way… Other than that though, pretty decent people. Or so they thought…?

The Native Americans had been planning this attack for years. The corn, or “maiz” they brought to that meal was coated thickly with the liquid cancer that the Native Americans secreted out of their pores. However, the Native Americans didn’t take into account that Americans hate vegetables. We’re all about meat, baby! The Pilgrims wouldn’t even consider that shit. I mean, they were polite about it and all… “Oh…corn. You guys shouldn’t have…”, said Pilgrim #1. Something else the Native Americans didn’t expect was how much the Pilgrims loved killing their own turkey. There must have been thirty to forty turkeys roaming the field in which they ate and when the dinner bell finally rang everyone went into their bloodlust. Pilgrims started slitting turkey throats left and right. Their children were kicking and stomping turkeys to death by the bunch. One Pilgrim thought it’d be hilarious if he ate the turkey live (and it totally was!). The Native Americans being a “people” that loved nature and prayed to stupid animal spirits were enraged. It was as if they were Schindler during some kind of turkey holocaust.

Now this is my kind of PILGRIM!

The Native Americans were so infuriated by the disrespect the Americans had for their animal friends that they began to shed their skins to reveal their reptilian scales. The Americans didn’t seem to notice though, because everyone got such an intense sexual thrill from stomping turkeys to death (even the children) that they started having sex and smoking cigarettes (even the children). The Native Americans have never had to deal with the smell of cigarette smoke and love musk before and immediately began choking to death. Half of the Americans saw them choking and rushed over to pat them on their backs, but patted too hard and broke most of their spines while still blowing smoke directly into their faces. The other half of the Pilgrims were really turned on by the dying Native Americans and started having sex more aggressively. After the meal the Pilgrims burned all the Native American bodies in the bonfire, said what they were thankful for, got drunk, and fell asleep in the field (most of whom were still inside one another).

PRESENT DAY

And the traditions we learned at that first Thanksgiving are still in place today. Traditions like xenophobia and bigotry are values that we’ll one day teach our children at their Thanksgivings. So, when you’re eating dinner with your family and friends tonight, be sure to acknowledge the brave individuals that made this day possible. Give thanks to Christopher Columbus and the Pilgrims for overcoming their obstacles and making this country and this day great. Oh, and if you don’t think what Columbus did was right, well…THEN GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY AMERICA.

Gobble Gobble!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Morning Sickness – March 28, 2011

0 Comments | This entry was posted on Apr 15 2013

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We had a real barn-burner of a show this morning! We open the show with a discussion about how America’s new language will soon become a series of grunts and growls that will be extremely popular among the homeless, who will eventually rise up in resentment to take over the country and kill all the rich! Then for about an hour Joe and Frank forget that they produce a comedy show and get into a very serious and heated argument regarding the pros and cons of legalizing prostitution. Then just when it looked like they’d start saying something funny again, they started aggressively discussing their religious views. Eventually they get to talking about the NCAA March Madness and some other shit. You’re definitely going to wanna tune in for the political commentary…

LT having sex with an underage prostitute single-handedly ruins this Morning Sickness episode.

Morning Sickness – March 23, 2011

0 Comments | This entry was posted on Apr 08 2013

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On today’s Morning Sickness, Frank once again claims Joe is only happy when he is fat. There is some commentary on the Alien franchise, which Joe thinks is awful. We decide not to edit out one of the plugs for the now defunct internet radio station this show was originally recorded for because Joe makes the station pitch so badly it must be heard by all. Kevin is a guest on this morning’s show, and he joins in on a three way rendition of Genesis’ “Invisible Touch.” Also, Joe accuses Frank of cheating in their friendship when he discovers Frank has other friends.

Special Guest Third Mic: Kevin

Phil Collins drumming and/or having an orgasm.

Morning Sickness – March 21, 2011

0 Comments | This entry was posted on Apr 01 2013

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This week, on a very special Morning Sickness, Joe shows up in an abnormally good mood, and it makes Frank incredibly suspicious. He’s convinced the only reason Joe could be in a good mood is because he’s done something horrible to Frank. Also on the docket of conversation, we discuss the tsunami in Japan, music news, celebrity breakups (Joe claims he’s the one who broke up Jessica Biel and Justin Timberlake), and Frank talks about how he hates The Sopranos. Plus, Frank Reviews Movies! Check it out!

You had too much! I had to step in.

Why Are People Pretending To Like Tom Waits?

20 Comments | This entry was posted on Mar 25 2013

It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, you can hear the screams. Or the groans. Or just the simple, desperate plea from someone with functional hearing to turn it off. One man whose only goal in life is to apparently irritate the senses. Through 121 near flawless minutes of Mystery Men¹, he was the only awful part. And one fundamental question is forever looming over a society that demands answers… Why is it allowed to continue? Tom Waits has been making music since 1973. Reread that sentence. Since 1973. Since 1973? That’s an abomination. That is pure negligence on someone’s part. I would petition that everyone involved in allowing his career to continue should be incarcerated for the rest of their natural born lives. No trial, straight to prison. Everyone. Except maybe the CEO’s of the record labels that gave the green light to his twenty-six albums. Those guys should be executed. Firing squad, maybe. Or like, we could fill a burlap sack with oranges and have the reanimated corpse of Macho Man Randy Savage beat them to death. It could be a pay per view special. All the casting directors who hired Waits to be in those movies should get the same punishment. Oh, and did you catch that number before? Twenty-six albums? That includes studio albums, live albums, and compilation albums. Allowing that many CD’s to make their way onto Best Buy shelves around the world is like an amalgamation of the Holocaust and the Trail of Tears.

Even Rebecca Romijn can't stand that shit!

One of my biggest regrets in life is letting my friend Kevin make me aware of who Tom Waits is and what he sounds like. The man’s voice sounds like a homeless guy gargling gravel. Kevin has unusually horrible taste in music. He listens to bands like Fleetwood Mac and artists like Annie Lennox that NO ONE has ever heard of. Annie Lennox’s parents don’t know who she is. Anyway, we’re driving in Kevin’s car recklessly down some random street. I’m clinging for dear life to something in the car that isn’t sticky with slime while Kevin barrels his Subaru down the road at an irresponsible sixty miles an hour through a school zone (while classes are letting out). “Hey pal, those are stop signs you keep passing,” I start, scared for my life. Kevin lights up another blunt. “What do they say? I can’t read the words, they’re too blurry. Also, I never learned how to read,” Kevin replies. “The words seem blurry because you’re driving past them too fast,” I explain. “You worry too much,” Kevin starts. “Listen to my terrible fucking music. That’ll calm you down.” Kevin plays a song by Tom Waits called “Hell Broke Luce”, which I originally mistake for the Hostel: Part II soundtrack. I figured it was just the screams of the victims being torn apart by chainsaws. The sounds of saws raking across bone. But it turns out it was “music”. And new music, too! I imagined that song being recorded in some rape alley thirty years ago, but no… 2011. Impossible. It’s impossible that music should be able to be this bad.

The really disturbing thing is that I keep coming into contact with people who not only enjoy the music of Tom Waits, but actively think the man is a genius. At first it was just a bunch of hipsters that were saying these things to or around me. If that was the case I would have just written their opinions off like I always do (see my article: The Black Keys Are Too Ugly To Make Music). But other normal, regular people started to say this stuff, too. Which finally led me to ask the most important question of the 21st century… Why are people pretending to like Tom Waits? There’s just no way that people could actually like his music. He sounds like garbage. Literally. His voice reminds me of trash cans scraping against each other in a rainstorm. And then feral raccoons start to fuck inside them. When I hear that shit, I don’t record it and play it for my friends. I close the windows. And then maybe destroy my eardrums. What would these people have to gain from pretending to like his music? Do they think by acting like they love Tom Waits’ horrible music that they are somehow hearing something incredible that nobody else is noticing? And then because of that, they can act like they’re better than the people who don’t consider Waits a genius? What’s their game? What are they up to? Why? Why are they putting themselves through hours of incoherent noise?

This woman discovered the perfect way to combat Tom Waits' music!

I’m not even sure how Tom Waits was allowed to release any more music after 1980. Especially after that lawsuit in Los Angeles, The Parents of John McCollum v. Asylum Records. The suit claimed that John McCollum, a depressed teenager who shot himself in the head, committed suicide while listening to tracks off Tom Waits’ album Heartattack and Vine, the last album released by Asylum Records. Tom Waits at one point even takes the stand, but he refused to testify amelodically. No one in the jury could understand his garbled singing so his testimony was dismissed. In the end, the judge reluctantly (he hated his music, too) sided with Waits. But still, that kind of bad publicity should have killed any future musical endeavors, right? Not to mention what Tom said immediately after the verdict was read…

Excerpt from the January 1980 issue of Cosmopolitan

“Yeah man, my music probably killed that kid. The first song on Side Two, “Til The Money Runs Out”, that’s all about how that dude should kill himself. Literally, that guy. I was in a Taco Bell last year and heard this kid John McCollum talking about how shitty his life was and I thought to myself, ‘That’s a number one song’. Well, I mean, it would have been a number one song if it was written and performed by anyone else. But since it was me it was really fucking awful. Completely impossible to listen to. But, the kid killed himself, so I guess I did my job. (laughs uncontrollably) I should be in prison! But I’m not! Fuck that family!”

Tom Waits might be a total hack, but the guy knows exactly what double jeopardy is all about, and he abused it in that interview. Still, you would have thought that after an admission like that no record label would want to sign this maniac, but sure enough someone did. Island Records and ANTI- would allow this madman to release a plethora of albums after that trial. But fine, mistakes happen. Horrible things happen in the world all the time, everyday. But that still doesn’t explain why people are pretending to like Tom Waits.

Eventually I became tired of the constant pondering of said dilemma. The Tom Waits conundrum was too much for my mind to take. It plagued me day and night. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t masturbate. Well, alright, I could masturbate. Actually, cum to think of it, my masturbation sessions had tripled since I started mulling over the situation. Letting hatred consume my body just gets me going. If you’ve read even one of my other articles, this fact is more than evident. Regardless, the chafing that resulted from the chronic pleasuring of my beat-stick due to the intense infatuation of hate forced me to pursue the answer to my question rather than continue to defy God by spilling my seed everywhere that wasn’t a woman’s vagina. Thus, I speed dialed the most successful and well renowned archaeologist friend I have on my phone, Mercutio Monte Cristo. He’s famous around these parts. He was thrilled to help with my endeavor, but felt we’d need someone to carry all our shit during the journey. I agreed, and suggested we abduct a child from the local park. A child that had the upper body strength to haul our gear, but not enough to defend against our advances. Mercutio thought it was an excellent idea, but informed me of a Sherpa that he used to have sex with constantly. The Sherpa’s name was Kalzang, and I wasn’t sure if it was a man or woman. I must have stared at Kalzang for like an hour without moving or talking and I just couldn’t determine this thing’s gender. Which made me uncomfortable. If Kalzang was a man, then Mercutio was gay, or at the very least bisexual. Gay guys love me. They find me irresistible. So this wouldn’t work. I would be concentrating on conquering the mysteries of the unknown and he’d be concentrating on my rockin’ body. At some point I’d have to pin Kalzang down and find out what was between it’s legs. You know, when the time was right.

If Mercutio looked more like Lara Croft, I'd have had a whole different set of problems...

We were scaling the Carpathian Mountains in Europe when Mercutio Monte Cristo discovered a crevasse that seemed peculiar. He lined the edges with a small amount of dynamite and detonated the charges. The explosion was larger than expected and we fell through the crater toward the center of the Earth. We plummeted a good nine thousand feet. We dusted ourselves off and walked away with only a few scrapes. Kalzang accidentally found the Book of the Dead, and upon reading several passages, awakened demons that had been dormant for centuries. After fighting off the swarm of undead, and giving Kalzang a stern talking to (fucking idiot), we ventured deeper into the caves until we came across a temple housed by ancient priestesses who were totally DTF. Mercutio and I wrecked those chicks. Specifically the ones with large chests who didn’t talk too much. I scolded myself for not paying attention to whether or not Kalzang banged any of the priestesses. I needed to start keeping my eye on the prize. Anyway, the sexually liberated priestesses were so grateful for the multiple orgasms we gave them that they rewarded us with scrolls thought to be lost forever. You guessed it, the scrolls possessed the secrets to why people were pretending to enjoy the music of Tom Waits. Also, Mercutio contracted gonorrhea. I told that guy to wear a condom. Those women had been living underground for hundreds of years and had no access to a gynecologist.

I arrived home late that night. The traffic was brutal. We hit almost every light. I needed to relax, so a glass of brandy was poured and the scrolls of civilizations long past were unrolled. To my shock, these weren’t the scrolls of civilizations long past. They were scrolls that pertained to a curse placed on select individuals by none other than Lucifer himself. Way back in the day, like sixty-three years ago, some of God’s archangels were messing around outside of the Devil’s house. The usual rebellious angel kind of stuff: toilet paper in his trees, shaving cream in the mailbox, dildos sticking out of the lawn. Real tasteless shit. So the Devil catches them in the act and calls the authorities. They arrest the archangels and bring them to God. God is furious. He’s like totally had enough of their antics. He grounds them and all, but the Devil isn’t satisfied. Tomorrow is his day off and he had no intention of spending his Saturday cleaning his front yard of vandalism. The Devil is threatening to press charges against God (since God claims the archangels as dependents when he does his taxes). God is having none of this. He’s already got two strikes and is still on probation. God decides to cut a deal with the Devil (as he’s accustom to).

Hey, that's just how archangels looked back then.

There’s something you need to know about the Devil. He’s a real jerk. Like, I really don’t know what that guy’s problem is. So, the Devil informs God that a child has recently been born. His name is Thomas Alan Waits. The Devil informs God that this child will grow up to produce the worst fucking music the world has ever heard. Everyday sinful, desperate people use the black arts to contact Hades in order to sell their souls for riches and other superfluous indulgences. They attempt to make these deals to gain fame and better their miserable lives. The Devil consumes their souls and grants their requests, but from then on those people are doomed to spend their eternity in Hell. The Devil explains to God that these souls are no longer enough to satisfy his thirst for chaos. He’s demands from God that from here on out, every person who successful sells their soul to the Devil shall still be granted their wish, but will have to live out the rest of their lives on Earth pretending to like the music of Tom Waits. They will have to listen to it almost all the time. They will hear his guttural singing voice as their inner monologue. They will have to tell their friends that they think Tom Waits is great, and try to get them to listen to his stuff. This will be the torture they shall have to endure for making a deal with the Devil. They will not be informed of this consequence until after their soul has been dealt. God soaks in this proposal and agrees to it almost instantly. ‘Cause like, fuck it, right?

I’m not sure what bringing this information to the public’s attention will do. I’m not sure if the damned that walk the Earth will feel any solace from their friends and family learning the truth. That they don’t really like Tom Waits, but rather are being forced into pretending to enjoy his music. If anything, I think I’d be more disturbed that this person I have known for whatever amount of time interacted with Satan and sold their soul… What does that say about their character? How could I ever trust that person again? And what did they get out of this deal? My friend Kevin that I mentioned earlier, he has apparently sold his soul to the Devil. And it kills me, because what did he ask for? He didn’t ask for a better personality or to advance further in his career. Wouldn’t those have been priorities? The only thing I can think of is that he might have asked for it to be socially tolerable (not even acceptable) for him to wear pajama pants at all times. Because that’s like all this dude wears. I’ve seen him wear pajama pants to church and funerals. I don’t know man, he’s seemed to gained nothing from this whole thing… It really makes me question his judgment. The dudes a mess.

I changed my mind, I'll sell my soul. Fuck it!

Why are people pretending to like the music of Tom Waits? Well, they have no choice. They’re soulless. They are literally being punished by God for being sinners and heathens. For wanting more and refusing to work for whatever their hearts desire. These people who own his CD’s and coax their friends into listening to a song or two, they are selfish and pathetic and will forever rue they day they decided to give up and take the easy way out. I can think of no better and more just comeuppance than having to hear Tom Waits’ voice in their heads. Maybe someday their suffering will end, but hopefully not too soon. They need to learn a lesson. But perhaps when Tom Waits dies, the curse will be broken. Don’t count on that to happen anytime in the near future though, because horrible people usually tend to live forever. So, what is the moral of this story? Do not trust people who listen to Tom Waits. If your best friend suddenly approaches you with that music, punch him right in the dick. He’s voided his ticket to Heaven and would push you in front of a bus as soon as hit the play button to start Mule Variations. If a small child runs up to you in the street wearing a Tom Waits shirt, ranting and raving about how you “just don’t get his music”, know that his articulacy was probably a gift from the Lord of Darkness, and be concerned that he was able to summon the Devil at such a young age. And even if your fucking mother presents you with tickets to Tom Waits’ next tour, be well aware that she is dead inside and never loved you. Oh, and I walked in on Kalzang in the bathroom hoping to see if it stood up or sat down when it pissed, but it was just taking a dump. So like, yeah, I’m still not sure. But at least that androgynous freak doesn’t listen to Tom Waits.

You don't even care what you're doing to people, do you?

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¹Have you people ever taken a look back at who was in Mystery Men? This cast is crazy and I don’t think we ever completely understood how crazy it was when we were kids. Ben Stiller, William H Macy, Hank Azaria, Kel Mitchell, Paul Reubens, Janeane Garofalo, Geoffrey Rush, Eddie Izzard, Artie Lange, Greg Kinnear, Dane Cook, and Dana Gould! Some of those guys are big names! Mystery Men was supposed to be the dumbest movie ever, but now I’m thinking I just may not have gotten it.

Morning Sickness – March 16, 2011

0 Comments | This entry was posted on Mar 18 2013

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On today’s Morning Sickness we literally abduct ten children from their homes and murder them live on the air! Oh wait, that’s next weeks show. Alright, forget that shit… What’s on today’s show… (shuffles through notes) Come on… (eats sandwich and masturbates) Ah, here’s today’s show! We’re going to be talking about the Happiest/Unhappiest States. We’re debuting a brand new segment called “Joe’s Lust Corner”, where Joe obsesses over Avril Lavigne and it disgusts you. Frank comes in completely unprepared this morning and Joe calls him out for chewing gum on the air. We mention some fantasy baseball stuff and how our friend Rob (who is the commissioner of the league) sucks. Plus, we get the biggest names to interview on Morning Sickness! Lebron James and Chris Bosh will be IN STUDIO for interviews! What will these guys have to say? Tune in to find out!

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!

Morning Sickness – March 14, 2011

0 Comments | This entry was posted on Mar 12 2013

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Today’s morning is chock full of taboo and hate! That happens. We introduce the show with a tolerable conversation about what kind of bar we’ll open when we both fail at our respective endeavors. Frank wants to name the bar “Fun Bar”, while Joe is leaning towards “The Rape Dungeon.” The consensus is that both names are horrible. A brand new “Joe’s Hate Corner” airs today, along with a discussion about the iPad 2. I thought I heard our “Letters of Correspondence” music in there somewhere, so that might also happen. We wrap up the show with some great ideas on how to lower gas prices and fix the oil crisis! Bottoms up, bitches!

This is exactly the kind of guy our hit bar will attract someday! Real winners!