Earlier this afternoon, singer R. Kelly was found not guilty on all 14 charges of his child pornography case.

GULP! You know this verdict means? KID RIOTS!!!

When asked what he planned to do now that he is legally vindicated, R. Kelly told journalists, “I’m going to Disney World! No, seriously. I’m going to Disney World and taking a leak on all those lil’ motherf*ckers!”

(There. I did it. You’re welcome for that timely reference.)

As some of you may know, I haven’t been online a lot recently because I’m currently on the road with fellow comedian John Mulaney. We’re performing at a bunch of Midwestern colleges; places like St. Joseph’s College in beautiful downtown Rensselaer, Indiana (funny aside: didja know “Rensselaer” is the German word for “methlab?”). But I have to admit, The Road is fucking hard, you guys. It’s seriously so cold outside. Like, it hasn’t gotten above single digits. Plus, everything is covered in ash and all we have to eat is canned peaches. John has done a great job this trip keeping my spirits up while he struggles to push our grocery cart through the muck towards the sea, but sometimes in the mornings I hear him coughing up blood, and it makes me scared. I can’t face these cannibals by myself.

JK! It’s been a lot fun. For me, the highlight of the trip thus far was two nights ago, when we walked into North Central College’s Student Activities Center in Napersville, Illinois. The doors of the facility were decorated with drawings celebrating Martin Luther King Jr’s “I Have A Dream” speech. Adorably racist drawings. It said they were made by third graders asked to summarize MLK’s famous “I Have a Dream” speech, but a part of me thinks that maybe they were actually done by the students of NCC. We’ll never know for sure. No matter what, Dr. King’s dream will live on through these pictures, dissolving in and out as my computer’s screen saver until the end of time.

What’s up, indeed.

Well, no one likes sitting in the back of a roller coaster.

His real dream is white superman? What? Was he having a nightmare?

I don’t think he saw the world in terms of olives OR anchovies. I think MLK saw the world as one big, delicious supreme pizza.

Kids draw the darndest things. (Darndest means insensitive, right? For reals though, how the fuck did those pictures make it out of a classroom? Who is teaching American History to these little monsters, and is like “Olives or Anchovies? That’s an interesting interpretation, Bobby. Very good! I’m sending that one over to the college.” A Nazi-lady, that’s who.)

PS: If you’re in New York, you should go to this tonight. It’s our one-year anniversary.

I just watched this 100 times, and…I think that might make me a sex criminal?

Quick recap: the polar ice caps are melting, the government is bankrupting itself, and kids are shooting each other in the face with cumguns.

One of my favorite TV shows is, has been, and will forever be the weekly late-night syndicated program Showtime at the Apollo. I can’t explain why I love this show so much, but I really do. (Some would say it’s because I exoticize Black culture, but whatevz.)

One of the best parts of the show (other than seeing legends like Jim Jones or Yung Joc perform LIVE!) is, of course, the “Amateur Night” talent show. This is the portion where the Apollo Theater audience decides if an unprofessional performer is good enough to not get booed off the stage. At times the crowd can be a little trigger-happy with their eliminations, but their judgement is usually always correct. (It should be noted, however, that gospel singers have never, and will never get booed off. Oh, and dancers always win. Always.)

Despite all this, my favorite part of the show still has to be the “Apollo Kids” portion at the end. This is when super-talented little kids take the stage and give it everything they got. More often than not, they are much more impressive than the adults. Whenever I watched it, though, I always wondered what would happen if a kid was truly terrible? Like, what if a little girl got up there and just started murdering a classic? The whole time thinking she was super fucking amazing? Would the crowd do the right thing? Would they find it in their hearts to knock the little girl down to size? Would they boo her with the same wonderful viciousness they give a talentless adult, even if that means she’ll probably end up becoming a cutter?

Well, it turns out the anwser is a big, fat NEGATIVE.

In fact, the crowd does the opposite. They encourage the kid to make an insane spectacle of herself and end up giving her a standing ovation at the end. (While clutching a bunny rag doll the whole time?)

So, without further ado, please allow me to present the best/worst Apollo Kids performance in history:

PS: Her face.

A while back, I wrote about how afraid I was of Vladimir Putin’s state-sponsored militia of brainwashed teenage Internet hackers, known as “Nashis“ (named after an organic but very racist type of Russian breakfast cereal).

Well, after watching this special report on CNN, let me just say that I feel much safer now:

What. The. Fuck.

TWEEN: “Hey Mom, can I have like $60?”
MOM: “For what, dear?”
TWEEN: “There’s this really awesome show at the arena I want to see.”
MOM: “Now, you know how I feel about rock n’ roll…”
TWEEN: “It’s not a rock show, Mom.”
MOM: “Well, what is it then?”
TWEEN: “It’s Battlecry.”
MOM: “And what is this ‘Battlecry’?”
TWEEN: “Well it’s kind of like a rock show…”
MOM: “I don’t like the sooound of thiiiis.”
TWEEN: “…but instead of music, there’s this local news sportscaster guy, and he yells at everyone about how much Jesus hates abortions.”
MOM: “Oh, that sounds like fun.”
TWEEN: “Yeah! And fireworks go off. And there are these lunatics running around with flags. And every one’s crying and praying.” 
MOM: “Wow! Hand me my purse, we’re both going!” 
TWEEN: “Eeeew! Are you kidding me? I can’t go to Battlecry with my mom! That’s so embarrassing.”
MOM: “Why?”
TWEEN: “You had your chance, Mom! This is my war!”

Quick poll: Who would win an all out fight to the death? Battlecryers or Nashis?

(more…)

After watching this how-to viral video about building a personal handheld burning laser out of an ordinary flashlight, I realized how disappointing I must be to the 10 year-old version of me.

10 Year-Old Me: Oh. My. God! Did you see that?
Me: Yeah. Pretty cool, right?
10 Year-Old Me: Pretty cool? A handheld laser gun? That’s a dream come true! C’mon, lets go make one!
Me: Ugh. Forget it, dude. It’s way too complicated.
10 Year-Old Me: What do you mean “too complicated”? We just watched a step-by-step instruction on how to make one!
Me: Right. But one of those instructions involved owning a soldering gun, which would necessitate me knowing how to use a soldering gun. Or even knowing where one goes to buy a soldering gun. No thanks. 
10 Year-Old Me: What’s wrong with you? We’ll figure it out. And then we’ll burn things with a laser beam. It’ll be amazing. C’mon, lets go to the store!
Me: Oh, okay. And which store would you like to go to first? The Soldering Gun store or the Axis-Laser-Housing store? Guess what? They don’t exist. Go away, I’m working.
10 Year-Old Me: Wait. This is where you work?
Me: Yep.
10 Year-Old Me: This is super depressing.
Me: Look, I’m not happy about it either.
10 Year-Old Me: What about the NBA?
Me: Uhm…the NBA doesn’t really pan out the way we thought it would. In fact, you might want to devote less time on basketball and more time on reading.
10 Year-Old Me: No way! Reading is for losers.
Me: Exactly.
10 Year-Old Me: I don’t think I like you very much.
Me: Well, I don’t like you much either.
10 Year-Old Me: I’m out of here. Have fun at your job, loser.
Me: Have fun grooming your rat-tail, you little faggot.
10 Year-Old Me: (Gasp!) You said the other F word!
Me: Yeah, that’s right. It’s called irony, idiot.
10 Year-Old Me: …
Me: Look, I’m sorry I called you the other F word. I only meant it in the colloquial sense.
10 Year-Old Me: It’s okay.
Me: Look, all I’m saying is you might want to consider expanding your scope a little bit.  There’s more to life than Sega, Cheetos, and Weird Al.
10 Year-Old Me: Okay.
Me: And, seriously, stop with the basketball. It’s hopeless. Mom will be taller than you at your Bar Mitzvah.
10 Year-Old Me: I feel really sad now.
Me: I know. Believe me, trying–and failing–to make a laser gun won’t help you feel any better.
10 Year-Old Me: I guess you’re right.

Consider the following:

1. Anti-freeze toothpaste.
2. Cardboard dumplings.
3. Babies full of needles.
4. Dragon bone consumption.
5. Really bad headaches.
6. 2 billion rats.
7. No Simpsons.
8. Organ harvest prisons.
9. Dog holocaust.
10. Slave kids.
11. Old lady penguin feet.
12. Molten metal accidents.
13. Cyborg pigeons.
14. Faulty penis transplants.
15. Blood-red poop rivers.

No thank you.