What

follows is a scattershot bit of random thoughts, links, and images that

showcase the lunacy that exists in the entertainment world and beyond.

Folks who remember my old missives from the old Steady Leak articles

should find this kind of stuff familiar. Folks seemed to get a kick out

of the first installment, and each Wednesday should fall victim to

another installment. Don’t expect anything deep here but something may

tickle your fancy.

ASSORTED DUMB SHIT


1. FOR FIFTY BUCKS IT’S TWICE AS FREE
!


Photo by Victor Broadley.


The Asians own everything. Isn’t that what the bumpkins say when drinking Coors Light and complaining about the state of affairs in this country? The goddamn hippies won’t let us drill in Alaska, those job-stealing Mexicans are horning in on our livelihood [as evidenced by the fact no one has watched The Tonight Show with Enrique Hernandez since his coup in Burbank], they’re trying to get ONE OF THEM in the White House, and no one’ll give Dale Jr. the respect he deserves. This is what they rant about, no? Well, if we sucker up to a few more of these $38 free eggrolls, the misanthropes may be proven right. I don’t know if I can live in a world like that.




2. SENTIENT TRASH!



Photo by Victor Broadley.



“Hello, I am Trash Can!”


“Fucking creepy! I just want to throw away the rest of this funnel cake”



“Please do not miss the opening, for my family suffers when you do.”


“No offense, but you’re an inanimate object built exclusively to house the grossest stuff we can create.”



“Show respect to my family, for we strive hard to be neatly filled with filth items.”


“I cannot handle my vacation day being ruined by a garbage can with family values.
I was going to jerk off in a while and you were the destination I had in mind for my yield.”



“Please do not throw sensual mistakes in me, for my family might see it and be trash offended.”


“How is that different from regular offended?”



“Very similar to your human offended, except coming from an alive wastebasket.”


“I’m going to round up my family and leave because now I’m human offended.
How in the world can we get to a place where trash cans are cognizant and living their own lives?”



“We are impregnated and granted sentience by your discarded passion rags.”





3. CALL NOW AND YOU CAN PUT IT IN THE BUTT OF THE MODEL HOME.



Photo by Jeremy Kinney.


First of all, there’s no way in hell Hubbell Briarwood isn’t a Hobbit, and I’ve already had one bad experience with a Hobbit realtor…

Secondly, why did I spend all my dough on that fucking Spaced DVD? I’d totally rather have Amy Sweet. HAVE YOU SEEN HER? Jesus. She has some serious curves. Scoliosis, I think they call it. HOT. I don’t know how to feel though. I have no problem with owning a woman, but to be so outright in the whole commerce of it seems wrong. When you buy a human being there’s a thrill to the clandestine aspect of it. Finding your way through the code on the internet, making a meeting location off the grid, making sure you have two escape routes, finding the right cologne/chloroform to wear. These are the exhilarating parts of the trade and to have signs in broad daylight… wait, it’s genius! Hiding in plain sight. Hubbell Briarwood is a tiny, shoeless legend! By this time tomorrow I’ll be mopping her scarevomit off the floor of the earthen capture room.




4. HIS WIFE MUST BE SO PROUD.


Photo by Wayne Denny.


That this bold mission statement is on the back of a pick-up truck belies the wit and manic brilliance behind it. To heartily endorse either one of these things is to be an iconoclast of the highest order, but the combination of both is the stuff of which high thinkers are made of. The owner of this mobile Parthenon dares to reach high enough to be a modern Copernicus, a latter-day Einstein, and a postmodern Walter Mondale all in one fell swoop. Kneel in reverence, cocksuckers.





5. JESUS BUILT MY HALF PIPE.


Photo by Renn Brown.


Just wait until the verses from Kickflip 3:16, Board Varial 5:40, and Darkside Grind 9:11 inspire you. Or the proverbs about Fingerflip Airwalk. Or the tale of Noah’s Ollie. Then you’ll know why they call it VISION Street Wear
. Fuck the Dove, God likes T. HAWK!





6. DRINK HOLE MILK!



Photo by Matt Johnson.


Now they have their own MILK? Looks like we’re going to have to sneak something in the voting both banning their drinks too.





7.WOLFRAM & HART’S DOING WELL FOR THEMSELVES.


Photo by Nick Nunziata.


A goddamned Wolfram & Hart joke? Fuck this site, man.





8. WHERE’S HIS HAND? WHERE’S HIS HAND!!!!?!?!?!?!?!


Photo by Renn Brown.


I mean, why the fuck NOT add a Koala Bear to the race car driver advertisement? A sport trying its damndest to be fast and furious married to an animal cute and virtually immobile. That said, if the guy on the right was driving…




9. “TODAY WE GROOMED YOUR CAT’S SCATTERED BONE PILE.”



Photo by Nick Nunziata.


I shouldn’t kid, it’s difficult to walk a dog that’s been hit by a speeding delivery truck. I know this. Have you tried successfully training a stillborn cat to use the litter? None of us have, and that’s why we need these professionals in our time of need.



10. FOR THE FINEST IN BUD LIGHT AND PRIAPISM.



Photo by Nick Nunziata.


I’m hesitant to shop anywhere where the owner is slyly telling you he’s always ejaculating.




11. “ARE YOU SURE THIS ISN’T JUST AN EMPTY WAREHOUSE?”



Photo by Nick Nunziata.


“I’m not convinced you have a 12-inch Boba Fett toy from my childhood in here.”


“Have you looked in the corner to the right?”



“Dude, I see three boxes over there and they’re filled with lampshades.”



“He’s hard to find. Keep searching for Mr. Boba. I’ll go over here and help this woman find her husband’s urn amongst the Lego pieces.”



There’s no Boba Fett over there.There are like ten things in this whole room. I’m calling the Better Business Bureau.”


“Tell them yourself in person. The Better Business Bureau, over there in that box on the right.”





12. I CONVERTED TO CALVINISM.



Photo by Chris Hayes.


Let me break the format by saying directly to the readers of this site who have a Calvin pissing on anything on their car…

KILL YOURSELF.


Now, I don’t understand what Calvin is pissing on. Is there a jellyfish bite that needs treatment or does he just piss at random? Does Calvin have both a delusional tiger inventing retard mind and a flimsy bladder or does the owner of this car not hate a rival car manufacturer with the hate of nine suns? He doesn’t have brand loyalty, he just like spissing young boys.

And is the piss higher than body temperature, because I don’t know what it feels to go heat? He likes boys who piss fire? I don’t understand it. Or, he’s a really bad Miami basketball fan, unwilling to splurge on a bigger sticker and with horrible placement decisionmaking abilities.

A recap:



KILL YOURSELF.





13. THE CAR IS SUPERCHARGED SO ITS OWNER CAN RETREAT FROM ANY SITUATION.



Photo by Nick Nunziata.


Does that license plate actually siphon horsepower and coolness from the car itself or is it more subtle than that, simply creating a conflict within the owner which forces them to alternate between acting like a Corvette owner and a Chevette owner?




14. “I’M SMALL AND DEFORMED AND OF NO CONSEQUENCE.”



Photo by Nick Nunziata.


“Hello, I am a fictional mutant that if I ever existed in reality would be treated with fear and prejudice, too small too defend myself and too bizarre to garner the support of charitable organizations. With that in mind, may I please be a symbol of your fanaticism for sports?”





15. THE SLAVE TRADE MADE EASY!



Photo by Nick Nunziata.


If only it were this easy to get siblings. I’d love to live in a world where we don’t have to


imagine watch our parents fucking every night at 7:00pm, broadcast across the world.


Photo by Nick Nunziata.


What these sons of bitches are telling us is that all sisters are the same size? This is 1:12 scale of ALL SISTERS? Or worse yet, is this the effigy of a REAL SISTER, one who is approximately twelve times the size of this molder plastic item? DOES SHE LOOK LIKE THAT? What the hell is happening to biology?


Photo by Nick Nunziata.


My Family’s Story: Dad gave up hope long ago that his family would be normal, instead spending his money on plastic surgery, scotch, and rented dick. His youngest child wasn’t created through human sex but rather an unfortunate decision by Mom to sit in the hammock right after Dad and his friend Roger did naked hugs in it. Mother has Moon Head, the dreaded disease of Tennessee farmers exposed to too much wheat and too few Gamma Rays. It doesn’t affect her charm, because she came into the world charmless, a result of shared traits with a vestigial absorbed twin that died early along in the pregnancy. Sometime between the fifth cocktail and when the sperm splashed against Grandma’s hips. Mother hasn’t had a haircut since Jimmy Carter was President, which would be fine if she’d washed it since Reagan. Sister means well, hoping to learn about raising ponies but the ponies are terrified of her enlarged head. Some feel she’s got a pituitary disorder but one pony is convinced it’s acute encephalitis, going as far as to create a rudimentary thesis on the sidewalk with its hoof and some charcoal. Most say her fake hair doesn’t look odd on her, which is possibly a lie. The ponies laugh, but the ponies have never had a head too large and infertile to harvest hair, have they? Ask the ponies THAT. Brother has it the worst, though. He was born an adult in child skin, victim of the dreaded disease alreadyold. Look at his face, the mileage. The memories of wars fought and lost. All within the fragile skinclothes of a baby boy. Mother holds him as far away as possibly because she doesn’t like having a newborn 43-year old son and because too much exposure to her rancid hair will give him Lou Gehrig’s other disease.












By the way:



























“When it’s cold Mother lets me sit closest to the burning!”




Message Board Thread.