As many of you (my fans) might imagine, having and maintaining an important and popular weblog such as joemande.com can sometimes feel like a full time job. Every morning, before I watch TV and read the Drudge Report for inspiration, I have to log on to my website and sift through literally thousands of reader comments. I do this despite the fact I could totally get a robot do it for me. Easily. But I don’t; I insist on doing it myself. I believe the major reason I emerged as a true comedic force in New York City in 2007 was because my fans (who are the BEST, by the way) were able to sense my influence, and personally connect with me as a genius, as they read and responded to my website.

Sadly, I’ve come to suspect that many of my “readers” are frauds. Phonies. A bunch of fake-ass posers. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little devastated by this realization.

You may have to look closely, but see if you can tell what’s wrong with the comments I got this morning:

That’s right. Not only are they needlessly repetitive, but they also all have the same IP Address! Can you believe that? Here I am thinking I’m making this personal connection with a slew of new fans–people like Black Pussy Black Lesbian Porn Fat Black Pussy and Anal Sex Anal Bleaching Black Anal–only to discover that they’re all probably written by the same person. A very fat lesbian with a beautifully bleached black ass.

I’m worried that a few of my more dedicated commenters–people like: Big Asian Lactating Tit Boobs, super bowl party decorations, Granny MILF Mom and Son Sex, Impressive grease broadway tickets, and Gay Horse Fuck, might all be pretenders as well. I pray that my worries are eventually proven to be in vain, but let’s just say I’m not optimistic.

Sometimes I wish all of my fans could act like antonio banderas biography? Talk about a classy commenter.

Textbook form: short, positive, complimentary. You can really tell that that book loves reading my blog, not to mention enjoyes hit films.

Still awaiting trial for multiple counts of child pornography, (the man quickly becoming my favorite) singer R. Kelly released his eighth full-length studio album this week, entitled “Double Up.”

Question: How many platinum-selling albums does a dude have to release before people chill out and start letting him have sex with girls born in the 1990’s???

Diggin’ the bejeweled glasses, Kellz.

There’s one song on Double Up in particular that’s been getting a lot of attention (from me). It’s called “The Zoo,” and it’s basically “Sex Weed” meets Planet Earth. The result is, as expected, unbefuckinglievable. (Although, it is a bit derivative, if you want to be nit-picky about it.)

Listen to it here:

“The Zoo” by R. Kelly

Seriously, every line in that song is a simile. Was that a 6th grade creative writing assignment or something? It must have been. I bet he offered to finish the English homework belonging to some girl in middle school in exchange for a hardcore terrarium gettin’-peed-on session.

THEN he decided to make it a song.

Kellz’ a genius, son.

“So you learning about similes, girl? Oh, they’s easy. Look, I’ll start by saying how…me and you…we like monkeys, right? Because we swing on the vines and shit. And here I’ll say you’re wet like a rain forest. That’s perfect. Oh! And I’m like a Sexosaurus!”

“Can I go home now?”

This is the homework assignment he turned in (click to enlarge (it’s worth it)):

R. Kelly is so tight.

In a recent interview, he told Hip Hop Soul Magazine (and its 7 subscribers):

“I’m the Ali of today. I’m the Marvin Gaye of today. I’m the Bob Marley of today. I’m the Martin Luther King, or all the other greats that have come before us. And a lot of people are starting to realize that now.”

Finally (finally!) people are starting to realize that R. Kelly is the Martin Luther King of today.

(At first I was going to Photoshop the “Chocolate Factory” album, but then I realized that would be racist.)

Frankly, R. Kelly comparing himself to Martin Luther King is a little ridiculous. I mean, MLK never wrote a song about sex weed. Or the Virginia Tech shootings. Plus, Dr. King had dreams but did nothing with them. Kelly, on the other hand,  takes his dreams and makes them a reality. And if happens to be that dream where he’s peeing on the chest of a teenage girl in some kind of penthouse terrarium, so be it.

Seriously though, what a difference a few years make. Remember back in ‘03, when Kellz was first accused of owning child pornography? Back then he felt a lot less like MLK. In fact, he said:

“Osama bin Laden is the only one who knows exactly what I’m going through.”

(click on that pic to hear the LOLiest song ever.)

Maybe R. Kelly is just a really, really bad Dennis Miller. Or vice versa.

Continuing on the R. Kelly tip, yesterday the New York Magazine website posted this question:

My guess is no. But, if that was a TV show, I’d def watch the shit out of it.

My proposal: that the 50-foot Michael Jackson robot be surrounded by 50-foot robots of curious/frightened Japanese people.

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