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5:44 a.m. - 2003-11-19


Q: Who is the most ignorant person in all of mankind?

A: Michael F'n Jackson.

At this point, you have to just feel sorry for the crazy bastard.

The day his latest greatest hits album is released, his ranch gets turned upside down by feds trying to find evidence that he's blowing little boys again.

Here's my problem with this ... he released a two-disc greatest hits album like ten years ago.

Then he releases an album ("Invincible") that is his worst selling disc in decades. Not one single song became a hit in the U.S. Maybe it was a hit in Europe where the pop star world is ruled by ballsucking cretins like David Hasslehoff. But it hit stores with a resounding THUD here in the states, mate.

THEN he releases ANOTHER greatest hits album which is just a pared-down version of the first greatest hits album.

"Here you go, consumers! Another greatest hits album that has half the hits of the first one!"



Not to mention the whole "inviting kids to his ranch so he can tongue their asses" thing.

He's got what? Three kids of his own?

He handed his semen over in a baggie to some prostitute who then bore him three children so he'd have his own kids to molest...right?

Shouldn't that be enough for him?


He has to have more.

Folks ... in case I've never mentioned it here ... I've got a three year-old.

I'm four years younger than Michael.

This one kid is running me ragged.

Three kids for a single father is more than enough.

Sure, they're raised by a team of nannies and a psychiatrist who gives them pointers on how to try and grow up normal against all odds.

It's hard to grow up normal when you wake up in the middle of the night and stumble down the hallway looking for a glass of water but instead you run up on your Daddy wearing only a cowboy hat and boots while having an orgy with your classmates from school.

But my point here is that he has three kids. That's enough.

Why does he have to keep inviting more and more kids to his house?

Obviously, they're little prostitutes for him.

Michael can paint any picture he wants. That it's all innocent and fun and they have sleepovers and pillow fights and ice cream and blah blah blah.

But you're sticking that little discolored dick of yours in 'em, aren't you Mikey?

Come on Mike.

You can tell Uncle Bob.

I won't tell anyone.


Grandpa and his wife left yesterday and the house was oh so quiet last night.


It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be.

All the examples I gave to you guys ... there was nothing there that would scar me for life.

So I didn't get a chicken leg from KFC. Guess what? They'll make more.

So the family's loud when they go to buffet-style restaurants. I didn't know anybody in the building so there's nobody that can come up to me and say "Good Lord man ... your in-laws are some fucked up crazy hillbilly fuckers!"

So my brother-in-law enjoys watching me urinate in my back yard.


Whose brother-in-law DOESN'T enjoy that?

Uh huh.

That's what I thought.

I went with some women of work to Michael's yesterday at lunch.

For those of you who've never heard of the store and are too goddamned lazy to click on the link that I provided for you ... Michael's is an arts and crafts store that make women squeal and men cringe.

I knew we were going to lunch. Lunch was good.

But the trip to Michael's afterwards was not in the cards when I signed up for this shit. Had it been, I would have politely declined the lunch date and shuddered for a good half hour afterwards.

Anyway, we go and I end up being the only one buying anything.

I know!

Irony, thy name is Uncle Bob and a Visa Check Card!

I bought Andrew some Colorforms Play Sets. One is the Wiggles and the other is Dora the Explorer.

You all remember Colorforms, right?

You know, as I stood there in line to pay for these Christmas gifts, I started thinking that in this day of technology where every toy a child owns can talk to them, are kids really all that interested in Colorforms?

I know I loved 'em as a kid.

I'm just wondering if Andrew will play with these when he has a Leap Frog Talking Book that he can play with.

I guess we'll see.

Is it just me or was that mountain man that the Queer Eye guys fixed up last night one hot mofo?

I'm not gay. At least I find myself constantly having to toss out that disclaimer to explain my thoughts and actions.

But when they were finished with him I was like "Dayyyyy-umm! Who'da thunk it?"

I bet his wife's nether regions got all damp when she first saw what she got to boink that night.

I know mine did.


Not really.

My nether regions don't get damp.

At least ... not as often as Michael Jackson's do.

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