Humorous but ultimately stupid news

Craigslist Anonymous

Thursday, March 15th, 2012

Is there a 12-step program for Craigslist, because I may need to join.

I’d been doing all right. Only looking at my Craigslist Plus alerts once or twice a day, but a couple of weeks ago I moved into a new place and had some new needs. It started out small, but like any addiction, the whole thing just kind of snuck up on and got away from me…

Now don’t get me wrong. Craigslist – at least here on Maui – is one of the truly great inventions of our time. I have furnished an entire home almost exclusively through it. I have met a wide variety of people: bought a rug from a legit mansion and walked out of what looked like a meth house with nothing because the people scared the crap out of me.

I’ve met people moving to Colorado, London, Arizona, Maryland, Australia, South Carolina, California, Oahu, Tokyo, and Thailand and I have a little piece of each of them here in my house. All of that is fine.

What’s out of my control is my burgeoning obsession with the weird and bizarre. Like the “free” section. I have yet to jump on any of these fabulous offers, but I sure do enjoy some of them.

Like this guy who apparently does not realize that a large bag of shredded paper = trash.


Or this person who apparently has a desire to see if there really is someone so desperate that they would drive even ten feet for this monstrosity and actually plans to allow that misguided, probably legally insane, soul in their home.
Seriously, if you told me there was a dead body inside this thing I would not be surprised. It would also help explain the odd location of the most egregious stain.


And who wouldn’t want a broke down trampoline?


Mark, it’s called the dump. It’s in Pu’unene. It wants your trampoline. Take it there now.

However, my greatest joy comes from the occasional outraged individual who writes a response to some of this madness. It almost makes me want to start posting ads for ridiculous free things just to see if I could get someone to play.

These are some of my all-time favorites, which showed up after about a month’s worth (at least) of these cassette tape postings kept appearing.


And then a few days later…


This ad I wish I had not seen, because now I am battling a compulsion to go over to this person’s house, lay on the floor, and cover myself in kittens.

I need a cat like I need a hole in the head, but the part of me that loves kittens has no interest in niggling details such as that. It just wants to party with kittens.

There ain’t no party like a kitten party, cause a kitten party don’t stop.




Ah, Craigslist. If loving you is wrong, I don’t want to be right

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It’s Mel Gibson’s world. We’re just living in it.

Thursday, October 22nd, 2009

Can somebody please get a message to Mel Gibson for me?

I’m thinking something like this:

Mel, WTF? You are not God (Good God, I hope you’re not God…)

Wait, let me start over.

He almost looks happy?

He almost looks happy?

Mel, WTFF? (which is my own shorthand for ‘What the effing eff?’). It happened, dude. We all know it. And I have a memory like a goddamned elephant. I will remember. So you can’t rewrite history.

In fact, let me give you a little history lesson: You went out on a drunk joyride, got picked up, said a bunch of regrettable stuff about ‘The Jews’, and had a mug shot taken in which you smile, which is strange in and of itself, but we won’t go there.

Going to court and having it removed from your record is not something the rest of us would be able to do because we are not famous, filthy rich movie actors with a god complex.

Scratch that part.

Going to court and having it removed from your record does not mean it didn’t happen.

And suing TMZ for publishing the photos?

That doesn’t undo it either.

The photos are EVERYWHERE, baby. And this is the Internets. They will never, ever, ever, ever, ever go away because that’s the way the Jews want it.

(Kidding. Although I wouldn’t blame them.)

So sorry to break it to you, Mel. Sue everybody you want, but until you invent and operate a brainwashing machine and use it on every last one of us, we will all remember the one night you used too much hair gel and did this weird little curlicue thing in the front and got in your car and drove around and got busted.

Your other option, of course, is a time machine…but things start to get so tricky when you tinker with the space-time continuum, so my vote is for the brainwashing machine.

If I get a vote…

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It’s nice to come across a kindred spirit

Friday, September 25th, 2009

No. I’m not talking about any of you lovely people who have found and stuck with this slightly pointless blog (I inserted the word ‘slightly’ to make myself feel better), but rather, The Donald.


There but for the grace of god goes...anyone.

There but for the grace of god goes...anyone.

I wasn’t going to admit this, but now that I see Donald Trump and I are clearly mind-melding and sharing the same awesome idea, I feel a little less nuts.

That’s probably not much of a litmus test, though, is it?

Donald Trump as your gauge of acceptability?

I mean, the man lives in a gold-plated home and wears a bad toupee that looks like an even worse comb-forward.

So anyway, he’s also crazy rich and seems to be very, very decisive (minus his mad crush on Joan Rivers. It was so clear she was going to win The Celebrity Apprentice after just three episodes. She could do no wrong in his eyes. My guess is he has mom issues.)

Anywho, my point here is that I’ve been reading all this stuff about Muammar Gaddafi wanting to camp out in some yard in Englewood, New Jersey and they wouldn’t let him, and then there was a headline about “Gaddafi Can’t Find a Place to Sleep in New York,” and I found myself thinking, “I’d let him sleep in my yard. He could use the downstairs bathroom.”

I mean…come on. How many (allegedly) insane dictators have you bunked down with?

To anyone who watches True Blood: Clearly Muammar is under the influence of a Maenid!

To anyone who watches True Blood: Clearly Muammar is under the influence of a Maenid!

None, right?

I suggest you’re  missing out: The man has got to have some interesting campfire stories. And imagine the material this would provide for years to come:

The time Muammar Gaddafi and I made s’mores.

Muammar Gaddafi told me this great ghost story about an evil, talking Swiss doll…

Remember when I stuck a sleeping Muammar’s hand in a cup of warm water, and he woke up and punched me out?

Gaddafi has such a lovely singing voice. Brings tears to the eyes. You should really hear his Kumbaya.

What? This? That’s when I started calling Muammar Gaddafi “Moo Moo” without seeing if that was okay first, and he shot me. That’s the scar.

Oh, the memories we could make!

Clearly Donald Trump is having the same idea, because allegedly  - after failing to gain permission to pitch a tent in Central Park –  Moo Moo has had a lovely bedouin-style lean-to pitched at one of the Trump estates. I’m not claiming to be a crack journalist, but rumor has it Donald’s 213-acre Seven Springs property in Bedford, New York is playing host to the (seemingly) insane dictator.

I think it's time Trump show us what he's truly made of: Go balls to the wall, get a weave, and rock a crazy ass mullet. There's no such thing as bad press, Donald!

I think it's time Trump show us what he's truly made of: Go balls to the wall, let the comb-forward fall backward, and rock a crazy ass mullet. There's no such thing as bad press, Donald!

When questioned about the giant Bedouin tent behind him, Sergeant Tom Diebold, a spokesman for the Bedford Hills police department, even went so far as to say (on the record!), “I’m not going to confirm or deny anything.”

Sounds like a yes to me!!!

Who can blame The Donald? According to reports, Gaddafi fears elevators and “needs space for his all-female security team.” Because there’s nothing the average woman loves more than camping!

We know Trump loves the ladies. And the tent sounds right up his swanky alley: The interior is decorated with a “print of pineapple plants and camels” and there’s red patterned carpets on the floor. Oooh! Sounds like Vegas casino meets cheap Florida hotel!

I do hope the UN decides to hold talks in my neck of the woods soon. It’s been years since anyone in the neighborhood hosted an African dictator and his all-female entourage in a tent. We’re overdue.

The tent itself. Looks like your average wedding reception, really.

The tent itself. Looks like your average wedding reception, really.


I’m digging the camping out in Central Park idea. Hotel rooms in Manhattan are so damn expensive.

The local homeless population may not see it the same way, however.

p.p.s. To anyone who randomly finds this and is now boiling with rage and gearing up to send me a spiteful email about Gaddafi and his ties to the Pam Am Lockerbie incident, I’m KIDDING. Look around the blog. Dry sarcasm everywhere. Funny!

Ha ha.

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Some people

Thursday, September 3rd, 2009

As if we needed further proof that people are nuts…or easily angered…or both, along comes this guy to make my day.

“Who is this man?” you ask. Well, let’s do some deductive reasoning together.

They say your nose and ears keep growing your entire life, and obviously they do.

They say your nose and ears keep growing your entire life, and obviously they do.

Look at this snarly mug. Does this man look angry?

Yes! Yes, he does!

Does he look like he forgot to take his meds?

Right again!

And does he look like a man capable of delivering a beat down onto a stranger’s two-year old child in a Georgia Wal-Mart?

Well, it should, because he did.

STONE MOUNTAIN, Ga. – Police say a 61-year-old man annoyed with a crying 2-year-old girl at a Walmart slapped the child several times after warning the toddler’s mother to keep her quiet.

A police report says after the stranger hit the girl at least four times, he said: “See, I told you I would shut her up.”

Roger Stephens of Stone Mountain is charged with felony cruelty to children. It was unclear if he had an attorney and a telehpone call to his home Wednesday was unanswered.

Authorities say the girl and her mother were shopping Monday when the toddler began crying. The police report says Stephens approached the mother and said, “If you don’t shut that baby up, I will shut her up for you.”

Authorities say after Stephens slapped the girl, she began screaming.

I think the saddest sentence of this article is the last one, because it highlights the audacity of arrogance: Here this man was bragging about his ability to shut up babies, and when given a chance (or seizing a chance…either way) to demonstrate his skill, he failed miserably and made the baby even MORE upset. And then he decided to applaud his failed efforts by tossing a saucy, “See, I told you I would shut her up,” out for all to hear.

But you didn’t, Roger. You didn’t shut her up, you made her scream more.

On the other hand, just looking at him, maybe he didn’t know the difference? Or maybe general screaming sounded more pleasant to him than whining for cookies? It stands to reason he hasn’t had much contact with kids. Or at least I hope he hasn’t.

At the same time, there is a silver lining to be had. Now I’m not saying the toddler deserved this, but let’s break it down objectively here:

1. Kids are annoying. You know they are. You’ve met kids. You may even have kids. In either case, I can guarantee you’ve been annoyed by kids. And if you haven’t? Watch two minutes of that “Nanny 911″ show (whatever it’s called where the British nanny comes and straightens out the hopeless, raising a brood of horrifically spoiled brat parents) and prepare to be ANNOYED. Look, I’m not picking on kids: We were all kids once. We were all annoying. I’m not saying they’re ALWAYS annoying and don’t have their cute or charming moments, I’m just saying that a screaming two-year old – no matter how you slice it – is annoying.

2. In a way, Roger Stephens, Wal-Mart shopper and occasional looney toon, was doing this toddler a favor. The next time she sees a face like that? She’ll know what to do: Shut up and get the hell out of Dodge as fast as humanly possible. There’s no need to lecture this little one on ‘good touch’ or ‘bad touch’ or ‘getting a funny feeling about people.’ Just remind her about that time she was at Wal-Mart, and was physically assualted by a stranger, and she’s good to go.

3. In my opinion, any time you enter a Wal-Mart you really are on your own. All bets are off. Never wanted to see a 400-pound woman in a halter top? Too bad, because there’s one waiting for you by the toilet paper. Have no desire to be hit on by a toothless man in his 80s? That’s a shame, because there’s one hovering around the mangos hoping to pretend that he doesn’t know whether they’re a fruit or a vegetable in order to extract unnecessary cooking advice from you as part of a poorly constructed come-on. Don’t want to be bitten by a pygmy rattlesnake? Well, as we’ve all learned, stay out of Wal-Mart, because you are shooting your odds way up, baby.

And as for you, Roger Stephens (whose name I keep typing as Gary Stephens for some unknown reason)?
I can’t wait to see you making the talk show circuit once you get let out of jail. I’m sure there’s someone somewhere that’s interested in your views on child psychology and will extend your 15 minutes just that much more! Yay for America!

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Kids are scary

Friday, May 29th, 2009

So I stumbled into some kind of article about all the secret code kids use to talk dirty on their cell phones (a.k.a. sexting), and I, for one, am shocked.

Actually, let me restate that. I’m grossed out.

And I’m wondering how on earth it is that things have changed so much in 20 years?


This is actually a pretty clever ad campaign from a teen + unplanned pregnancy prevention group.

This is actually a pretty clever ad campaign from a teen + unplanned pregnancy prevention group.

When I was 18 years old, I had a close male friend who offered me $100 to record the outgoing message “When I think about you I touch myself” (in homage to the hit song at the time) on his answering machine, and I wouldn’t do it. And if I remember correctly, the offer was raised by at least another $100 before he stopped asking.


Yet the combination of peer pressure and cold hard cash was not enough to break me.

I think I worried about it coming back to haunt me in my bid for the Presidency or I was just a prude or who knows. Regardless, I wouldn’t do it. These days, I could use the money. You know who you are. Call me if offer still stands.

Meanwhile, I also remember that I was rendered immediately and immensely uncomfortable by the mere sight or sound of Rod Stewart. I have an explicit memory of being in my friend’s basement rec room in my late elementary years (so 9 or 10 years old), and seeing him on TV singing “If You Want My Body” and wishing I could drop dead from awkwardness and shame right then and there.

In other words, I would have never – even with the available technology – have sent any of this filthy stuff. My mother was a world-class snoop, so I probably would have had to use the ‘MOS’ or “PAL” codes (and in hindsight, wish I ‘d known them), but that’s it.

I can’t even imagine who I would have sent them to. By and large, the  boys I liked tended to be odd outcasts, unpopular and even actively disliked. Thus, my crushes were a shameful secret that I kept to myself, and I hid them so well and buried them so deep that even at this moment I struggle to recall the name of a single guy I liked in middle school. Love is weird like that. Fleeting and completely forgettable…

Anyway, and without further ado – and apologies if you’re prudish or easily offended or are now suddenly realizing that your sweet and innocent 12-year old is actually a raging floozy – here’s the lineup.

Top 50 Internet Acronyms Parents Need to Know:

1. 8 – Oral sex

2. 1337 – Elite

3. 143 – I love you

4. 182 – I hate you

5. 459 – I love you

6. 1174 – Nude club

7. 420 – Marijuana

8. ADR – Address

9. ASL – Age/Sex/Location

10. banana – Penis

11. CD9 – Code 9 (it means parents are around)

12. DUM – Do You Masturbate?

13. DUSL – Do You Scream Loud?

14. FB – F*** Buddy

15. FMLTWIA – F*** Me Like The Whore I Am

16. FOL – Fond of Leather

17. GNOC – Get Naked On Cam

18. GYPO – Get Your Pants Off

19. IAYM – I Am Your Master

20. IF/IB – In the Front -or- In the Back

21. IIT – Is it Tight?

22. ILF/MD – I Love Female/Male Dominance

23. IMEZRU – I Am Easy, Are You?

24. IWSN – I Want Sex Now

25. J/O – Jerking Off

26. KFY -or- K4Y – Kiss For You

27. kitty – Vagina

28. KPC – Keeping Parents Clueless

29. LMIRL – Let’s Meet in Real Life

30. MOOS – Member of the Opposite Sex

31. MOSS – Member(s) of the Same Sex

32. MorF – Male or Female

33. MOS – Mom Over Shoulder

34. MPFB – My Personal F*** Buddy

35. NALOPKT – Not A Lot of People Know That

36. NIFOC – Nude In Front of the Computer

37. NMU – Not Much, You?

38. P911 – Parent Alert

39. PAL – Parents are Listening

40. PAW – Parents are Watching

41. PIR – Parent in Room

42. POS – Parent Over Shoulder -or- Piece of Sh**

43. PRON – Porn

44. Q2C – Quick to Cum

45. RU/18 – Are You Over 18?

46. RUH – Are You Horny?

47. S2R – Send to Receive

48. SorG – Straight or Gay

49. TDTM – Talk Dirty to Me

50. WYCM – Will You Call Me?


My mental image of what todays oversexed kids will be like in another 20 years after theyve worn themselves out and cant even bear to look at the number 8 anymore.

My mental image of what today's oversexed kids will be like in another 20 years, after they've worn themselves out on talking dirty and can't even bear to look at the number 8 anymore.



I’m wondering for #49 if the following response is acceptable?


Oooh, baby.

I love it when you text to me like that!

And I’m fond of leather.

But not like that. In a cute bomber jacket or a nice pair of boots or something. But still…

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