Updates on the strike!

I know you’re probably sick of hearing about this stuff, but if we don’t all stay strong, we’ll have nothing to look forward to but American Idol seventeen times a day!

Nobody wants that!



  1. Nelly Furtado’s music is a natural laxative. I defy anyone to listen to more than three bars without making poopie in their drawers. Oh, fuck… okay, aparently just typing the phrase “Nelly Furtado’s music” has the same effect as actually listening to her music. Aw, dammit, there I go again! I’ma go clean up…

  2. You don’t even have to type it, you can just read the words “Nelly F*rtado’s Music” and it will loosen your bowels. Even though I censored it, I just let out a pretty wet-sounding fart. Gross!

  3. C’mon Eric! You need to write something new. Don’t you realize, that like all other entertainers/r-list celebrities, you are on this earth SOLEY for MY entertainment?

    I don’t care if you are having more eye/heart problems(I really do though), and if that’s the case, suck it up pal! I NEED ENTERTAINING, and I can only read bobanddavid.com, pattonoswalt.com and the Sex Offender Registry so many times. C’mon Eric!

  4. No new stories, but you can go and watch this video on funny or die and vote for it there, if you’ve got some time to kill. Which we all know you do. Or maybe you’re too busy hanging out with your friends and banging chicks and going to parties?

    Oh snap!

  5. That hurt me greatly. GREATLY Sir. Mostly because it’s true. I DO have the time, and I ALWAYS WILL!

    But in my defense, I have no friends because I don’t need any. I am so great, being with others only takes my attention away from ME. I don’t like “banging chicks” either, I prefer to use the term “making love”, and I totally intend on finally trying “making love” any day now. All I need is a lady who is willing to put all of the attention and focus of the relationship on me. And she has to be fine with never, EVER touching me either. The germs frighten me.

    My cousin Susan did let me watch her pee once though. So, yeah.

  6. Greetings, mortals!

    I’ll bet you have all been discussing my whereabouts amongst yourselves, but wonder no more! I have just returned from an eight week McRib tour of the Midwest.

    That’s right, while you California fags may not be good enough for the venerable MacRibz, these delightful little manufactured pork product inspired beauties are plentiful here in the good ole heartland! I actually buy one or two to eat and one to use for a loofah.

    Well, I was just beginning to recover from the most heinous case of McDominal distention when I decided to check out “The Phony ™”. Needless to say, My intestinal flow was renewed aplenty (Coincidntally, “Intestinal Flo” was the name of the manager of the McDonalds in Chanute, KS).

    Thanks for the fine welcome back.

    My question is this, my stately friend: Couldn’t your time and talent be better utilized discussing the finer points of life and/or important issues of the day? Must you lower yourself to the basest forms of scatological humour? Your crass display, as I mantioned previously, caused me to involuntarily loosen my bowels. Well, something about the smell in the room made my dog decide that it must be time for him to go as well. Just as he finished unleashing his steaming load onto the living room rug, my mife walked into the room, and taking one look at the watery mess on her great grandmother’s rug, she began simultaneously sobbing and vomiting. When I jumped up to rush to her assistance, I slipped on the muddy stew which had now seeped down my trouser leg and coated my slippers. I crashed down on top of her, knocking her into the armoire and out of consciousness. I looked over to her to make sure that she was all right. She had a trickle of blood running down her nose, and her cat had jumped down to lick her face. Animals can be quite amazing in times of crisis. Suddenly, the cat began to convulse, and in one heaving motion ejected a massive greyish yelow lump of hair, mucus, and what could only be described as something similar to dijon mustard directly onto her face. As I lay there staring at her, covered in blood, shit, phlegm, and vomit, I couldn’t help but think that in all of our years together, she’d never looked more lovely, So I tenderly rolled her over and made sweet love to her motionless body until the paramedics arrived….



    Although I am not a member of the writers’ guild either, in a show of solidarity with my brothers and sisters, and because I couldn’t think of anything, I have not been writing anything for two months now. That means I’m like a month and a half better than you scabs. I’m going to go ahead and start writing again now, and if the strike runs over two months, or if I run out of ideas, I will quit again then. I’m solid like that, broughams.

    Yours in Christ,
    Pit-Pat O’Shea
    United Village Persons Local 637

  7. Yes, I said my “mife”. Don’t judge my lifestyle due to your fear or lack of understanding. If only the State of Oklahoma would recognize the union between a man and his marmocet, I could finally call her my wife. If you look at the statistics, marmosexuals tend to stay together as long or longer than couples in just about any other group. If you doubt my commitment, you only need to look how far I’ve gone just to cover a little typo..

    Just food for thought.

    Pat Pitterson

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