The following is an ad for a company called Liberator Medical Supply. It’s the best commercial I’ve seen on TV since the Kinoki foot pads. The ad features a woman named Holly who has a couple major problems in her life. Only one of which is using catheters every day.

After watching that video 100 times, I have a few questions for Holly…

Okay, Holly, first off…WHY DO YOU HAVE TO USE CATHETERS EVERY DAY FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE? Also, why weren’t you devastated about that? Granted, the notion of reusing a catheter every day for the rest of your life is very shitty. But, it pales in comparison to the fact that you still have to use a catheter every day for the rest of your life. You know what I’m saying Holly? That’s like becoming paraplegic and then getting mad when you find out you still have to cut your toenails. Furthermore, Holly, WHY ARE YOU SO SCARED OF TALKING TO STRANGERS OVER THE TELEPHONE? I mean, that’s okay, but it has nothing to do with you having to use catheters every day for the rest of your life. Those are separate issues right there. However, Holly, if you’re having problems with the catheters you use every day for the rest of your life, I’m pretty sure you should only talk to strangers about that. Ideally, they’d be strangers who can’t see your sad face. Not to make light of your problem! Agoraphobia is a real thing. But Holly, you know agoraphobia isn’t treated by using catheters every day for the rest of your life, right? Catheters play no part in mental health. All you need to do is go see a therapist, Holly. Unless of course, you already have a therapist. Oh my god. Holly. Did your therapist say you had to use catheters every day for the rest of your life? Because he is wrong. Also, Holly, WHAT’S WITH THAT CAT AT THE END? You don’t…oh Jesus, Holly. You don’t use cats as catheters, do you? Did you think the word “cath” was just a silly way doctors referred to cats? Because you’re wrong Holly. “Cath” is when you use the word “catheter” as a verb in a weird abbreviated way I’ve never heard before. Of course you’re going to get urinary tract infections, Holly! Your urinary tract is no place for a cat! I don’t care how clean they are, Holly, they’re still cats. But now I totally understand why you were so devastated before. How many cats have you boiled alive and stuffed in your peehole, Holly? Why did you do it? Why? Why?

To my friends and family:

Before I say anything else, I just want tell you all that I love you. Or, rather, I loved you. So much. This wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own. You’ve meant the world to me. Everything I was was because of you. I’ll cherish each and every moment I spent with you, the good times and the bad, for all of eternity.

Unfortunately, the time has come for me to say goodbye. I’m sorry it had to end like this. Please try to understand. I’ve tried so hard. So hard pretending to be something I’m not. Almost an entire year, living a lie. Living in agony. Fighting the urges. Ignoring the voice in my head that kept yelling, “DO IT, JOE! YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO! JUST DO IT AND GET IT OVER WITH!”

I tried to be strong, but I guess I wasn’t quite strong enough.

The urge overtook me. I lost control. And now I’ll never see any of you again.

Last night, I bought a Nintendo Wii from the Toys R Us on Broadway. It’s everything I dreamed it would be. But, because no one ever wants to come to Queens, and I don’t plan on ever leaving my apartment again, I guess this means goodbye. It was a pleasure having known all of you. I’ll always love you. I couldn’t go on living a lie. This was how it had to end. I wish you all long and happy lives. And even though I won’t be here with you anymore in person, just remember that I’m in a happier place now (and that place is Super Mario Galaxy).

I’m so sorry. Wii is so tight.

Yours in spirit,

Joe

PS: I named my console “Joe Mandwii,” so I should probz go ahead and kill myself for realsies.

This video made me realize my words mean nothing.

I’ve watched that over 100 times today. No joke.

Click below to see some more classic news bloops!

(more…)

I hate these people.

Yet, I have set my TiVo to record every episode of season 3. (Is self-schadenfreude a thing? Because I have it.)

And, despite what I previously thought, it looks as though PLIPPS is indeed contagious. Look what Brody Jenner did to poor Mr. Belding:

Barf. Everything about that picture is a nightmare.

I’m willing to bet $20 that my man Brody’s tongue got stained by drinking a six-pack of Ed Hardy Energy Drinks.

The official trailer for Yeti: A Love Story came out today.

So. Fucking. Embarrassing.

I seriously want to kill myself after watching that. But, if I did, my participation in that movie would be the last thing I ever got onto IMDB. And, therefore, I must carry on.

Here’s the description that went along with it:

It’s “King Kong” meets “Brokeback Mountain” in “Yeti: A Love Story”, a gay themed horror-comedy about a homicidal and wildly homosexual mountain yeti!

Me: “Seriously, Dad, just because I’m in a movie about a gay bigfoot who rapes boys in the woods, that doesn’t make me gay.”
My Dad: “…”
Me: “I don’t even get raped in the movie. I get shot in stomach as I run through the woods in my underwear.”  
My Dad: “…”
Me: “To get away from the gay bigfoot!”

My sincerest congratulations to Adam and E-Rock for getting national distribution on Yeti. I just wish you guys would please go back and pixelate my face out.

Bear’s a fake!??!!?! This can’t be true!

Seriously, I feel like crying. Between this and the possibility that Lil’ Wayne might face years behind bars for some lame-ass gun charge, today has been like a mini-Kristallnacht for me.

By the way, until Bear’s been proven innocent of these slanderous charges, I’m moving Man vs. Wild down to second place on my list of favorite TV shows, thus giving The Wire the number one spot. (I have a dream where these two shows somehow intertwine and Bear has to find his way safely out of West Baltimore using only a water bottle, a flint, and his knowledge of the crack game. I’d call it: Man vs. Wild N’ Out.)

This was on the front page of MSNBC.com today:

Great question! But, no. Those look like monkey bars to me. Terrifying monkey bars, obviously, but monkey bars nonetheless.

I love how much airtime those monkey bars get. Literally every time the news talks about terrorism, cut to monkey bars. You know the main Jihadi trainer was telling the cameraman, “We have trampolines, dude! Get some trampoline footage! No? Well, how about over there, the goat’s head tetherball? Oh, I see, you’re just going to film the monkey bars? This is why we hate you people.”

I also think it’s kind of ironic that terrorist basic training is the exact same thing as those grade school Presidential fitness tests, only you have to wear a hood the whole time. Actually, that’s probably even better because no one can point and laugh at you when you start crying.

What I’m saying is if you have to do a Flexed-Arm Hang to join Al-Qaeda, they can count me out. I hate that shit. 

That’s more like it.

Oh, and speaking of monkey bars (it’s about a minute in, or so):

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.

47 year-old CNN correspondent and renowned demon-hag, Nancy Grace, announced today that she’s pregnant with twins!!!! 

No word yet if she plans on keeping the babies or simply eating them.

She released a copy of the ultrasound to the press:

The father is said to be her husband, David Linch, an Atlanta investment banker. However, Mrs. Grace isn’t giving up the possibility that she was gang-raped by the entire Duke Lacrosse team.

(What I’m saying is she’s a terrible person.)

When it comes to people constantly dissing France, I’d have to agree with Bill Maher:

But sometimes France actually deserves it.

Like when they give Nick Cannon the “Breakthrough Actor” award at the Cannes Film Festival. You know, for his powerful and memorable portrayal of some black dude in the powerful and memorable Emilio Estevez biopic Bobby. Remember that? When Nick Cannon totally broke through after that movie Bobby came out? Everyone was talking about it.

Nick Cannon? France, seriously, this is inexcusable. Even in a country full of pompous, frog-eating, chain-smoking cowards who take aspirin with their butt holes, this shouldn’t happen.

Don’t they have IMDB in France? Don’t they know Nick Cannon has already had a handful of breakthrough performances? Who could forget Roll Bounce? How about Drumline, people? Or his masterful voice work in 2004’s animated hit Garfield? Not to mention how he’s earned the title “the new king of improv.”

Every single day, I look up to the sky and thank God that Nick Cannon wasn’t aborted. Because, if his mother was French, he so would have been RU486′ed. No question.

This is Nick Cannon’s entire bio on Wikipedia:

They forgot “France thinks he’s amazing.”

Fantastique!