Shithead Creek

is now live

Sweet Jesus

How to Dead End Your Arteries

An Open Letter to Bob the Builder

Hey Bob,

Every time I see you, I see a patient, hard-working guy who means well, but is not, sadly, a manager. You've accomplished a lot in Sunflower Valley. But whenever you set out to do something, without fail, there is a workplace incident. Is it you, personally, dropping a load of bricks into the river? No. Tipping over some expensive tiles and turning them into dust? No. Trying to make the other equipment laugh, and in the process, destroying a job site? Of course not.

But, Bob, at a certain point the responsibility falls on your shoulders. Who foots the bill for all of this shit? Your "clients"? How are you still even in business? Fact is, you've hired and are loyal to a crew of complete fucking idiots. Sorry. It is true. They screw everything up, and of course it always gets resolved, but at a certain point it is less about their incompetence than it is about the judgement of the person responsible for hiring them. Understand? Time and again, you let these morons off the hook with a slap on the wrist and a tidy little "moral" and then they go out and do the same stuff again.

To me that is the sign of a terrible, terrible boss. Do you like spending your day explaining things again and again, or would you rather just hire some folks who can work independently? Now, I know it has to be surreal working with a bunch of machines that have faces and feelings and all that, but you know what might help? Take them in a little parade past the junk yard. Slow down and let them take a peek through the fence at all the wrecked cars, trucks, diggers, cement mixers, etc. If it doesn't sink in, then they and you are on your own.

Now I know you look over at the island of Sodor, and what Sir Topham Hatt and all of those trains have been doing for forever, or now Handy Friggin' Manny and his foolish box of tools with faces, and wonder: how am I different? You know what? You're not different. It is three nearly identical scenarios. It's boring. Your equipment, and those trains, and those tools NEVER learn anything. No retention of a word that you, as a boss, say. Ever. There is no chance of it. How do I know this? Because they KEEP DOING STUPID SHIT! It is a pattern. A sick, sick, sick pattern.

Children mature. Progress. And they leave you and your ilk behind. They leave you on the job site with a bucket of twisted screws all jumbled up in rapidly drying cement because Lofty was more interested in singing some creepy song. Good luck with that, Bob. Step up your game, and tell Wendy to get some new earrings, or better yet quit wearing them at all. They're gross.

Evidence

KUDOS TO WIZZNUTZ

Authentic Charles Oakley Car Wash Shirt

this is good stuff

Does your child like dinosaurs? Fine. Dinosaurs it'll have to be. Learn some of those fuckers' names. Quick tip from me to you: Most of them end in "saurus," so you can fake your way along pretty good by just adding that to the end of a word you already know.

The Story of Wendy's

Apologies if you've already read this

gruden = larry brown

In theory, maybe, but, def not total addresses.

Please read


Either way, not sure I want him to come to the Jets, and it doesn't seem likely.

Though going by a source like Steve Serby of the POST (who is NOT, thankfully, the author of the above), as a Jets fan, I would have believed that Steve Spanulo was going to be the coach. I also would have loved Favre, then hated him, then praised Pennington, then made excuses for him when he threw 9,000 picks in the playoffs, then said, Get Cowher, then said get Spagnulo.

ETC.

OH VOMIT

Say it isn't so!!! Why won't this tranny mess go away? Christ this is tiresome.

NFL

When they met in 1981, President Ronald Reagan lengthened the game to six quarters to boost our country’s sagging morale. When the game cut into the broadcast of That’s Incredible, Reagan’s plan backfired and civilian revolts destroyed much of the Eastern seaboard.

WISCONSIN TARD ANIMAL KILLER

Another deer found tethered to a tree apparently strangled itself by circling the tree. The other three deer were found in various parts of the field with significant injuries, mostly broken legs.

HOW IS THIS DOUCHE (& CO.) NOT UNDER THE JAIL BY NOW?

more NFL shite

Fresh from his $1.15 haircut at the Blagojevich School of Cosmetology, here’s Kevin reading a menu on the sidelines, while the grounds crew uses a spatula to liberate Eli Manning from the turf. Gilbride went with the turkey hoagie with extra iceberg lettuce and a Diet Sunkist, then rattled about six peppermint Life Savers around in his mouth and crawled into an oversized duffle bag for a snooze. See you at the combine, Kev.

Marvin Harrison

Whole bunch of stuff I didn't know...

Instead, Harrison grabbed Prior by the throat and lifted him off the ground. While fans watching on the stadium's video screen chanted for their ball boy to fight back, players and workers tried to separate the two. As Harrison argued with security, Prior was taken to a medical station, where marks were found around his neck.

GOOD STUFF

JOHN HODGMAN COMMUNITY Q&A

RYAN ADAMS

NEW YEAR, SAME COMPLAINING Jesus, guy. Get over yourself. So a few people criticized your work and a few others wrote about who you had sex with. No need to quit everything for the 97th time.

Good Story by someone who is bored

Though the lot’s always half-empty, he loses his shit if you park in “his” space; when I accidentally did this, I came outside to find him affixing a long, type-written note to my car...

UTAH

I'm having a hard time disagreeing with Rick Reilly. This is somewhat unusual.

ED REED RAVENS LOVE FEST PIX PT 2

Stubbly Titans QB Kerry Collins is looking more and more like a soap opera surgeon who has nearly lost everything because he started getting high on his own anesthesiologist’s supply, and is now suspended and has resigned himself to hiding from his imagined pursuers in the bushes of a woman named Jessica, while wearing implausibly stained chinos, and pretending to speak Russian (it’s really Pig Latin) into a battery-less walkie talkie.

He carries himself this way, too.

Having an unspoken mandate this season simply “not to fuck things up” isn’t a real confidence builder. Neither are direct orders to “eat a couple salads now and then,” and “compliment” someone named “Gene on his new glasses, cause he’s a self-conscious pussy.” But it has worked for the most part.

NFL PICKS

Not sure if it is Levitra or what, but it’s the one where that saddened guy who looks like a combination of Stephen King, Bob Seger, Taylor Hicks, and Grant Hart comes on at the end. He looks like he went without the drug for about a decade and kind of just sat there with an un-working penis. On an ottoman in his living room. Without his pants on.

Lifecasters

After reading Gawker today, it dawned on me that Non-Society should have a new male lifecaster...someone, you know, as desperate and pathetic as the founding members are.

(I suppose Neal Boulton could toss his hat in the ring, too. Though I know he is holding out to be on MTV's first show about 40-something bisexual magazine editors)

I want to see this

(thanks to Matt S for the tip)

The Brett Favre Folk Implosion

When destiny called, the Jets answered by asking if it was a prank, then shouting that the call was being traced then hanging up and promptly falling asleep.