Tuesday, September 12, 2017

New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest: Oh My God, A New Yorker Is Our Overlord edition

So much of life is stuffing words down cartoon characters' mouths and pretending anybody cares! Huzzah! Onward to the place where people who say 'huzzah' are dragged into the street and beaten!


"This place was great before the chef accidently tweeted his dick on a customer's pizza. Where the fuck is our pizza?"
"My son called me with an existential crisis that is somehow solved by me throwing money at him. This time I was just like, 'Nah, fuck it. I'm buying a workplace hammock.' "
"If you call me one more time I'm going to swing hard right and fuck both of us up."

"I like how the new furniture begs to be free."

"Hey, Nancy. The fucking dweebs you ordered are here."

Catch up with Deerman!










Wednesday, September 6, 2017

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Dangerous Minds

When we were kids, we really liked Coolio. Who didn't in 1995/1996? Gangsta's Paradise was the shit. Naturally, my brothers and I wanted the Dangerous Minds soundtrack.



We begged my dad to allow us to buy a "Parental Advisory" CD. Fuck you, Tipper Gore. My dad made us write an essay on why we should own it.

We put our heads together and wrote the best bullshit I've probably ever written in my life.

"The Dangerous Minds soundtrack is an important piece of art. It provides a window into the lives of people who have different lives. It is a good complement to a movie I have never seen about education and crime and poverty. I think you should let us buy this CD."

My dad relented.

We went to the Sam Goody at the Cerritos Towne Center and I went straight for the Rap section. There it was. Michelle Pfieffer being a Breatharian on the cover in a leather jacket and red lipstick. My mind, friends, was getting into dangerous territory.

Dad escorted us to the cash register where some thirty something year old nerd looked at my purchase then back at my dad and said, "You let your kids listen to this filth? They should be listening to Hootie and the Blowfish." I don't think my dad was embarrassed or anything because he said something like, "They wrote a very thought out essay about why it was a necessary purchase." Or maybe he said, "Fuck you, chump. Just take their money."

The mustachioed music gestapo rolled his eyes and allowed us to pay $19.88 for the soundtrack. That's what CDs cost back then. What a scam.

It wasn't long until my brothers and I did something to merit losing our Dangerous Minds privileges. It was a good thing that we backed up the CD to cassette tape because as punishment for whatever sin we committed, he made us return Dangerous Minds in exchange for Hootie and the Blowfish. My dad was a Stalinist for creative and funny punishments.

Lo and behold, the same rules nerd checked us out on the exchange. When I gave him the Hootie and the Blowfish CD to exchange for it, he tapped on the jewel case and said to us, "You see? This is real music."

Hootie and the Blowfish is so irrelevant that it's not even a punchline anymore. We never got that Dangerous Minds soundtrack back but my folks also didn't make us write essays for the shit we wanted. If we had the money for it, we were welcome to take the bus to the record store to get it on our own.

Don't forget to become a patron on Patreon!

Check out my chat with Trey Hudson, founder of Mad Shade!



Sunday, August 27, 2017

My dog is named Comrade

My dog is named Comrade and people always want to say Conrad.

My pal, Derrick, said, "Oh, like Joseph?"

I answered, "Totally," because I heard Josef. As in Grandpa Joe. Man of Steel. Stalin, Comrade the Ultimate.



It was only when I got up my car that I realized he meant Joseph Conrad.



Comrade is an asshole. A total bitch. She runs around barking at nothing about the virtues of destroying all property and I have to answer, "cut it out unless you want to go back into your crate," accidentally validating all of her high falutin ideals about whatever the fuck it is dog commies believe in.



She'll telegraph she wants to take a shit and I'll get up and take her out only to spend 20 minutes in the rain chasing her around as she barks at the ghosts of whatever Texas battle was fought here. She's fast. Take away the 's' and you have a good adjective for me.

It's probably good exercise chasing around this dog.

When she sees people she gets wild and excited and pees on their feet. There's no good way to say sorry for this to a stranger except to walk away and refuse to clean it up.

I've never had a pet before. Comrade is my first pet. I demanded it be a puppy or else I'd never love it. It's not that I thought dogs were disgusting before; I appreciate that they exist, it's just that I've never connected with an animal.



Puppies are cute. It's undeniable. I could love a puppy. And it'd grow into a dog so gradually that I wouldn't notice and I'd still love it as a puppy.

People who own dogs know this is some dumb ass logic. It's been hard to train a puppy. They were right. It's hard to understand a puppy. It's harder when it's teething. I'd have my hands full, they said.

They were right.

But I was right, too.



Because Comrade has pissed on my floor, shat on my floor, torn apart my pocket notebook, bit my fingers, scratched my legs, woken me up in the middle of the night, ruined our garden, and done any number of idiotic shit.

But I love that damn dog.

Go catch up with Deerman.


Sunday, August 20, 2017

Deerman, Episode 2 is live!


Hey, y'all!

Deerman, episode 2 is now live. I wanted to do this thing monthly but I have decided that the best course is to publish episodes at least twice a month.



I can't thank Zug Goodina enough for making the artwork for this episode of Deerman. You may have seen his work on Party World Rasslin' things. That's where I originally encountered his art and I'm stoked that he agreed to do something for Deerman. He takes commissions and can be reached through his facebook. 

Deerman is available on podbean, youtube, iTunes, Google Play, and soon to be on Stitcher. We're trying to take over the world here.

Deerman is going to be as long as it needs to be but I am also writing another novel that will be released "traditionally." Everything is a little screwy right now when it comes to our lives and creating and publishing and eating. We're all just trying to figure out what works. After Deerman is done, I plan on continuing the idea of serialized novellas/novels via podcast.

Anyways, enjoy some bit of Deerman! Subscribe! Share! Like! Yadda!

Friday, August 4, 2017

I almost burned my house down making cold brew

It's true.

I may be the only person alive who has almost burned down their house while making cold brew. I'm taking my coffee game to the next level, nerds.


It's simple. I was using a criminally overpriced coffee sock and I needed to clean it. I put it in a pot of water to boil. Then I remembered that my life is worth much more than watching some fucking pot of water waiting for it to boil. The old adage says, "A watched pot never boils," so I put on my sweet gaming headphones and played a few rounds of Call of Duty before I heard the fire alarm go off and the scent of burning human intelligence in the kitchen.



 "OH FUCK DUDE!" I yelled to my compatriot who was probably not listening to me.

I ran to the kitchen in my boxer shorts, shirtless, and my socks. The fire was in the pot. There was no water in the pot. It had already evaporated.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

I threw some water on the burned coffee sock, really regretting that I got the American flag design at that point, and the fire was gone.

Smoke filled the house. I opened every window. I grabbed a broom to help push the smoke out. I grabbed my cat to throw around to vent my frustrations.

I didn't make any cold brew for about a year after that.

Now, I have a new method.

HOW TO MAKE COLD BREW WITHOUT BURNING DOWN  YOUR HOUSE OR SPENDING $10 ON A GLORIFIED PIECE OF CHEESE CLOTH

1. Grind the beans real coarse.

2. Dump the beans in your mason jar.

3. Fill the mason jar full of water.

4. Seal the cap.

5. Forget about it for a day.

6. Pour the liquid out into another mason jar with the help of a wire strainer.

7. Voila! You have cold brew without burning down your whole fucking house.

Hopefully this helped you get through another day of monotony and everyone screaming about politics and whatever, whatever. I've been thinking a lot lately about our collective mania. High-powered cold brew should help fuel it.

Oh, yeah! Deerman episode 1 is out! Check it out! Become a patron! 


Tuesday, August 1, 2017

New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest: Steve Bannon Is A Sexual Gymnast Edition!

Oh, God. Here we go again. This one might have a repeat but I am unsure because I'm too lazy to sift through my old posts. Look, I'm not Steve Bannon. I'm not sitting around trying to stuff a banana into the orange lodged up my ass, okay!?
They say they want to turn our town into a destination.

It's kind of weird that we gentrified all around this one guy's taco cart.

Now that I've killed your children in a display of my awesome power, I want you two to sift through my litter box again.

As a matter of fact, my dick DOES hurt.






Deerman, episode 1


Deerman is here, y'all. Check it out!

Click here for PodBean

Click here for YouTube



iTunes coming soon!

Thanks to Jack Arambula for creating the art for this episode.

Thanks to the Grassy Knoll for providing the theme song. Why not buy their album? http://amzn.to/2hjX96V

Help support the Deerman project by becoming a patron: http://www.patreon.com/ahilbert

Help support the Deerman project by buying something from Amazon. It adds nothing to your total, it just gives us a sweet, sweet monetary kickback to keep this shows' wheels greased. You can get my latest book, Invasion of the Weirdos! http://amzn.to/2w1vfA9

Follow me on twitter @AHILBERT3000


Sunday, July 23, 2017

Deerman Begins August 1, 2017!

Deerman begins on August 1st!

Support Deerman by becoming a Patron on http://www.patreon.com/ahilbert



http://amzn.to/2vyY1I0

Click on our Amazon link to help support Deerman. It adds nothing to your cost and it helps us tell the Deerman saga.



Why not buy the Grassy Knoll album? http://amzn.to/2gUZJ35



Twitter: @ahilbert3000

http://www.deermanbegins.com

http://deerman.podbean.com

http://www.hilbertheckler.com



Monday, July 3, 2017

Deerman: The next great American shitpost.

Howdy, folks.



For a hot minute I've been marinating on this Deerman idea and what the best way to release it was.

There is no way to promote it as a physical book. Sure, there is. But there's no good way to.

I decided to serialize the book and release each chapter on a monthly basis with accompanying audio and images.

I plan to launch it publicly in the first week of August. If you become a subscriber on Patreon, you will get each chapter a full week ahead of everyone else.

I'm still playing around with distribution methods and whatnot but every chapter will be posted on deermanbegins.com as well as on YouTube and PodBean and all those magical channels.

Please become a patron today!

I believe this will end up being a novella length story of about 12 chapters or more but it can go anywhere. That's the beauty of serializing the damn thing.

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

How to stay cool in the heat wave

It's hot outside. It's so hot, you could fry an egg in your car if you hated cars that smelled bearable to drive in.

Here's how to stay cool in the heat wave of 2017.

My lyrics largely make no sense but my fan base also hates "mumble" rap stuff. Nothing makes sense. Life is a vortex ending in death.

1. Shades. Everyone needs a cool pair of shades. I suggest Ray Ban Wayfarers. They're classic. They already match a coke nail perfectly.

Exhibit A: It's a coke nail despite your uncle telling you it's for the hard to reach boogers. It's for hard to reach boogers if you want to blast them with coke.

2. Get some cigarettes and pack them constantly. Everyone knows that's fucking cool no matter how hot it is.

Good form!

3. Tell everyone within earshot how much air conditioning is ruining the environment. Tell people you prefer kombucha as a natural way of cooling your body down. That and coconut oil. Lots of coconut oil. 



4. Get caught reading at every turn. On the shitter? Leave the door open so everyone knows you're extending your stay at Porcelain Hotel's pool to get through this nail-biting chapter of Capital by Karl Marx. 

5. Get angel investors for your start-up that is going to change the paradigm and disrupt the market through superior storytelling and a competitive benefits package. (*cough* hummusballgag.com *cough*)

Monday, June 26, 2017

New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest: Contest of Captioning Cartoons Edition!

Ugh, it's a tradition around these parts.

Ugh, it's like standing up and saying the national anthem when you're a kid. You don't want to do it but you also don't want to be thrown into the gulags, either.

It's like not wanting to support Chick-fil-A's abhorrent politics but your family always gets platters of their nuggets for Christmas, so you don't want to ruin Christmas either.

It's like a goddamn Alanis Morissette song. Who would've thought? It figures.

I swore to your father when we got married that I'd never let you go hungry. Well, honey, now all we can afford to eat are Italian leather briefcases. 

Pool's closed. It's just a little too gay right now.

You probably shouldn't have worn your birdseed suit out today, dear. 

Sunday, June 25, 2017

Could you pass this US citizenship test?



You call yourself an American? Ha, I bet you even VOTED. Voting is complicity. Voting is COMPLIANCE WITH THE SERPENT MEN. LOVE AMERICA? Prove it by passing this AMERICAN CITIZENSHIP TEST.



1. Who was the first President of the United States? And I mean the REAL first President, okay!? Not the corporate-backed bullshit narrative you're force fed in grammar school by little lemming corporatist sheeple.



2. Who is the current President of the United States? And I'm not talking about the guy you see on the first page of Wikipedia, OKAY?! I'm talking about the REAL overlord of the United States. So make sure you THINK about it WHILE YOU STILL CAN.



3. What is the national anthem? Oh, I know what you're thinking. Yeah, it's not that. OKAY!? It's REALLY the jingle of a major corporation. I'll let you think but it rhymes with FACTDONALDS.



4. You think your tomato is a simple fruit of nature? Wrong! Name the evil banker scientist who made an apple fuck a watermelon and then turn around and fuck a beet. THAT'S WHERE TOMATOES COME FROM, IDIOT.

5. What's the secret to eternal youth that ISN'T COCONUT OIL?

6. Avocados are a secret mission by homosexual Mexican terrorists to turn American men into kombucha farmers. TRUE OR FALSE?



7. The most important Americans are: Jesus, Moses, Pat Buchanan, Ross Perot, AND (fill in the blank).

8. The Alamo is currently protected by US National Guards because it houses a secret nuclear facility run by serpent-men. TRUE OR FALSE?


9. The Washington Monument is:
a) a beacon sending Morse code to Proximus Auri (a secret star system you're not allowed to know about)
b) a hotel for snake-people
c) an exact replica of George Washington's cyber dick

10. Baseball and apple pie is to the myth of American democracy as mind controlling satellites and e-mail is to ______________.

Note: A real citizenship test is 500 questions long. A patriot sent me a recreation via carrier-pigeon so as not to tip off the serpent-men as to what we were up to. And, as any true American knows, ba-da-ba-ba-ba.... I'm lovin' it. Brings a tear to my eye.

Buy the handbook on American patriotism here. 

Saturday, June 24, 2017

This motherfucker's putting peanut butter on apples

Look at this motherfucker.

This motherfucker is putting peanut butter on his apple.

Oh, shit. Wait up.

This motherfucker is putting almond butter on his apple.

It's a fucking honey crisp.

What is this guy? A billionaire?

Honey crisps: at least $2.54 EACH. That ain't no pound price. That's each.



And look at those damn things. They are huge.

Jiffy and Skippy and Peter Pan don't make almond butter, neither.

They make PEANUT BUTTER, friend. A classic. Cheap. Tasty.

Almond butter?

It looks like you ground that shit up yourself.

Did you know it takes ten self-satisfactory boners to grow ONE almond?

And I'm not talking any kind of self-satisfaction, I'm talking putting your Bernie sticker on your car after January 20, 2017 kind of self-satisfaction. I'm talking kombucha brand loyalty satisfaction. I'm talking "I don't drink cow's milk because I think a cow should drink her own milk" satisfaction. I'm talking "I don't eat gluten out of solidarity with the folks that are actually gluten intolerant" satisfaction. I'm talking I don't listen to music made by artists who once said they preferred their chicken laying eggs to be caged.

I'm talking slapping a spoonful of almond butter on a fucking honey crisp apple level of satisfaction.

That's how much it takes to be that guy.



Friday, June 23, 2017

Books I've liked recently





Heathenish by Kelby Losack - This book is dripping with style. It's a gut wrenching tale of redemption that is told so cleanly and without frills, that it's like a bullet to the heart. I wouldn't even know what a bullet to the toe felt like so let's just say it's like two dentists furiously wrenching out your tooth if your tooth was on your heart. I know what that's like. There aren't too many folks out there that write with such clarity. Check it out.



Omon Ra by Victor Pelevin  - I've always loved Russians and Soviet era writers. The writers that we get from Russia, translated into English, always embrace the absurd weirdness of reality while we get stuck with too many writers who embrace ordinary boredom and try to make some grand statement out of being bored with nothing happening. There is no statement there but a fart. Victor Pelevin is like the more cynical Vonnegut of contemporary Russia. This story was touching. It was sad. It was kind of funny. It was absurd. There's a grand conspiracy. At the end you realize there is nothing to anything and we're all trapped in a cosmic joke that we can't make sense of until we finally do make sense of it and that's when it makes even less sense... and you didn't have to suffer through one hundred pages about some "fictional" asshole writer struggling with his book. As if anybody wants to read about a writer's life. Let me tell you: It's boring. It's the same as anybody else's.

Last Dance In Phoenix by Kurt Reichenbaugh - This is a great noir that I read in one and a half sittings. A good diet full of meat and french fries will allow you the time to read a lot in long spurts with your pants off. Reichenbaugh does a good job of creating utterly detestable characters that you end up rooting for. It's a pretty intense but quick read.

Bend of the World by Jacob Bacharach - A fancy friend in New York recommended I read this. I trust this guy. He's got good taste and seems to be pretty keen on recommending things to people that they'll actually like. I bought it the day after he recommended it and read it in the next three days. I think he read the summary of Invasion of the Weirdos before it came out and recommended this book to me because he thought our senses of humor would align. Boy, was he right. Bacharach is hilarious. If you like cult stuff, drug stuff, bad art stuff... you'll like this stuff.

Numero Zero by Umberto Eco - This book should be seen as prophetic at this point. But the whole fucking point is that the news has been "fake" for quite some time. This revolves around a fascist conspiracy in Italy to cover up the true fate of Benito Mussolini. The protagonist works for a newspaper that has a strong agenda and is financially backed by a weirdo millionaire with an axe to grind. In an era of alternate facts and fake news, this book is worth reading. It's tiny, too.

The Nightly Disease by Max Booth III - Due to some publisher weirdness, this book is set to go out of print soon so snatch it up while you can. Every chapter is hilarious and dark. I'm afraid of owls and I no longer believe that whenever I stay at a hotel, it's birds that are shitting on my cars. Beware the night auditors.

Hard To Be A God by Arkady Strugatsky and Boris Strugatsky - More Russians. Soviet era, actually. I was recommended this by a great friend who is an Eastern European film enthusiast. He actually recommended the movie but I got to the book first. It's harder for me to pay attention to movies. These guys were truly the Soviet Vonneguts. They saw the absurdity in censorship and trying to engineer a perfect society. This book is funny and is a hell of a lot like the Soviet version of Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. And that, my friends, is one of my favorite books of all time.

Things I'm looking forward to:

Hollow by Owen Egerton - I'm damn sure I've read everything by Owen Egerton and I've never been disappointed. From the moment he told me what he was working on a few years ago at Once Over Coffee, I knew this one was going to be a masterpiece. I haven't read it yet but I've got a damn good feeling about it.

Gods on the Lam by Christopher David Rosales - I'm pretty lucky to be published by Perpetual Motion Machine Publishing. Everything they publish is gold. That's not hyperbole. That's not ass kissing. It's the damn truth. Before I sent off my manuscript to PMMP, I was a huge fan of Jessica McHugh's Green Kangaroos. This was my first introduction to PMMP. Since then, I've eaten their stuff up. I was also a fan of Max Booth III (one half the powerhouse that is PMMP). His writing is so fucking funny on a visceral level. So, when Max told me about Gods on the Lam... I knew it was a book right up my alley. Conspiracy, western, etc etc. It's on its way now. Can't wait.


Thursday, June 22, 2017

It's time we talked with our mouths

My fucking mouth.


Boy, let me tell you.

I've stopped eating popcorn entirely. Let me tell you why.

The first time I had a botched dental procedure was after I cracked a tooth on popcorn watching the Simpsons episode about Homer protesting for dental insurance for Lisa. That sounds too good to be true but, let me tell you motherfucker, it's true.


Popcorn wasn't the bad guy, of course. The tooth was already necrotic. Popcorn was just the catalyst for me doing something about it. That's neither a cow nor a buffalo. I got a root canal, drill bit broke off inside my root. It couldn't be fished out so they left it in and after a whole month of scheduling appointments with specialists and whatever, I finally got my mouth back.



Fast forward a few years and I'm sitting around eating popcorn again because sometimes a motherfucker likes to eat popcorn. It was Smart Pop which is surprisingly good for bagged popcorn. Tooth cracks. I ignore it for months because the memory of the botched dental procedure lingered.

I ate with half a molar for months. I was constantly flossing to dislodge whatever bullshit got stuck in it. It didn't hurt though so I never bothered with Big Dental.

It doesn't hurt until it does. And it always comes at the worst times. Right before Nina's and my honeymoon. So I delayed any action until after we got back from the pure paradise that is Isla Holbox in Mexico. Seriously, cheap vacation that is absolutely beautiful. It almost made me forget I had a mouth if it wasn't for all that great food I was shoving down my gullet.

We get back to America and I hear about a dentistry school in San Antonio that does extractions for cheap. Students gotta learn. We all know my issues with Big Dental so I'm eager to let some C student work on my mouth. What do you say to a C dentistry student when he graduates? "Doctor, I think you left your fucking drill in my tooth."

It couldn't be worse.

But it'll probably rhyme with the pain.

And rhyme it did.

It took about an hour to pry this tooth out and there were two dudes working on it. I literally tasted their sweat as they wrenched the damn thing from side to side, taking turns, and saying things like, "I don't think it's going to come out," and, "you might feel some pressure." Well, it finally came out.

My mouth was sore, they stuffed some gauze in my mouth and told me to stay on liquids for at least a day but no drinking through a straw. They warned me about dry sockets and I immediately became paranoid.

Three days passed, I felt on the up and up. I ate a burger with a fork and knife because my mouth was too sore to open wide enough to eat a burger the normal way. I went to work and felt my face in massive pain. I asked a co-worker, "hey, man. Is something wrong with my face?"

He laughed and I knew that yes, there indeed was something wrong. I looked like elephant man.

The pain was excruciating. You know the feeling when someone sticks a screwdriver into where your tooth used to be and digs in, twisting and turning the damn thing until it gets into your brain? No? You don't know the feeling?

Imagine that pain but with two screwdrivers handled by a naked maniac who has no control of his arms and frequently stabs you in the eye. That's more in line with the kind of pain it was. I've been hit by a car, folks. This was worse.

"Maybe I shouldn't have let students into my mouth."


All night I have an ice pack on my face. I alternate between that and a wet rag that I put in the microwave for 15 seconds. I don't get a lick of sleep. I debate grabbing a hammer and bludgeoning it against my jaw until it falls off but the better sense of me realized the hammer was in the garage and my security system was already turned on so if I got up, I'd have to walk to the security system and disarm it, unlock a fucking door, hit a goddamn light switch, and then look through the thousand places it could possibly be. It wasn't worth it.

The next morning, I call the place in tears.

"Oh, dear. Please get here as soon as you can!" the lady says to me.

"Ow, ooowee, owie, ouch, ow, okay," I said. I was already out the door.

"Oh, dear. You got here fast."

"Ow, oowee, owie, ouch, ow, okay."

I live in Austin. The dentistry school is in San Antonio. That's about an hour and fifteen minutes away. I GOT THERE IN FIVE.

It was an abscess. It infected my whole fucking side of my face. The real dentist comes in and says to his students, "Back off, bitches. This abscess is mine," and I'm rocking a boner so hard it might as well be a full set of teeth.

They put some shades on me and they tell the same joke every fucking time I'm there: "I know they're cool but you can't have them!"

"Haha," I say and then I point to my actual prescription glasses, "Fuck off, you ableist dickheads. I can't wear shades unless they're prescription."

We all shared a good chuckle while the actual dentist put a million syringes in my jaw then got a scalpel and dug in.

Look, I know the lidocaine or whatever fucking drug they use is supposed to make you feel nothing but I swear to you, I felt that scalpel go in and I felt him cut it open and I felt them draining the yellow stuff from my gums.

The pain was worse than their hour long tug of war with my tooth three days beforehand.

I was on a smoothie diet for over a week. I forgot how to chew. God had forsook me.

Here's the moral: Brush twice a day. Floss. Use mouthwash. Cherish your teeth. Buy my books to help me keep my teeth.


Saturday, May 20, 2017

Upcoming events

Well, howdy folks. 

Nina and I have been living it up on Isla Holbox in Mexico. It was great. My brain was erased with relaxation. There was very limited access to the internet and nobody spoke about Donald Trump. Every American should treat themselves to that kind of gift. 

We spoke a lot of bad Spanish. I kept saying camerones because that means shrimp and our waiter did his best dumb American impression and said, "Oh, you want SHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEMP?" I felt very self-conscious. I ate so much shrimp that my taint fell out. Just imagine that. Oh, it was great. 

I've got a few events coming up. 

First things first.






Sunday, May 7, 2017

Advice given in the throes of a toothache

1. Don't cut your arm off. As annoying as clipping fingernails is with your non-dominant hand is, you're going to need that hand to hold your cellphone with as you wipe.



2. A day is as much as a night is in terms of sunlight, just the exact opposite. Go read a book on Eastern philosophy. It makes sense to someone.



3. If Jesus was so cool, why didn't he wear Wayfarers? You want to be cool, I mean, Bob fucking Dylan cool? Get some Ray Bans and tell daddy-o to fuck off.


4. Start quitting cigarettes by sticking them up your ass. You'll develop a resistance to putting those same cigarettes in your mouth. Trust me.


5. Post on Facebook about the French election like you're an expert. All your friends will heap praise on you even though you thought a bill was a law automatically because Paul Ryan rubbed his nuts on it.



6. This advice is in jail for making fun of Jeff "Cyst Lips" Sessions and under investigation by the FCC because we live in Russia now.



7. Grab a sledgehammer and just bash it against your teeth. You don't need them anyways when the robots take over and use our toothless mouths to age their cheese in.



8. Read my last post.

9. Buy my books.