That's what I'd do.

I'd feel sorry for the girlfriend, if it wasn't such a great prank.

Driving a burning gas tanker away from station.

As some of you may have guessed, my thoughts on Christmas are a little conflicted. It's not like I have a vendetta against it like some people think. I mean, good for them. They managed to co-opt the solstice celebration. I'm not crazy about it, but it's not like I don't put up a tree and a few wreaths.

The thing that drives me nuts is the Santa Claus thing. Namely the notion that I invented Santa Claus to take the spotlight off Jesus during his birthday. Some say his name is "Santa" because it's just "Satan" with the "N" placed in front of the "T". I feel slightly insulted by the notion that I can turn into a serpent on a whim and tempt Eve out of paradise, but that when concocting a campaign to influence every Christian child in the world for hundreds of years I would just spell my name with a few letters switched around.

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Christmas. Yeah, we're going there. I never said this would be a smooth ride. Christmas is of course the celebration of the day Jesus was born and placed in a manger because there was "no room at the inn". Seriously?  Who was running this inn? Messianic prophecy or not, it's a couple who had a baby 5 minutes ago, you can't make some space? Hell wouldn't even pull that shit, and we're talking about a place that dedicates an entire high-rise to gleefully forcing glass shards under the eyelids of false witnesses.

Christmas is also the beginning of Christmastide, the so-called 12 days of Christmas, made famous in the song of the same name. Allow me to take a breath before going into this one. Let's think about this. The first 4 days, the singer's "true love" - and I put that in quotations because I'm not sure I buy that designation for reasons I'll explain - gives her (Yeah, her. I've lived so long I stopped counting my age when we went from Roman to Arabic numerals, and I can tell you this: chicks don't buy guys multiple swans. Sorry boys, ain't gonna happen.) a partridge (with tree), 2 turtle doves, 3 french hens, and 4 colly birds. The song seems to suggest that these things are stacked every day, so on the first day it's a partridge in a pear tree, and on the second day it's 2 turtle doves and a second partridge in a pear tree, and so on. I'm going to assume that's not the case, and that each subsequent mentioning of a gift is a reference to the original, and not a duplicate gift. If I'm wrong, then what I took to be merely absurd is actually whatever is above absurd. Preposterous?

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It's fun to light it on fire and throw it up in the air. Bats, for whatever reason, will dive bomb it!!

Well, it's happened again. You've blasted through another year and suddenly it's Thanksgiving again. We do a big Thanksgiving down here. It's a good holiday for a diverse crowd, since it's secular and you don't really need to explain much, even to people who have never heard of it. Have a big feast, open a few bottles of wine. Everybody "gets it". And holidays that center around cooking are big in Hell, since heat is easy to come by in a lake of fire that burns hotter than the hottest earthly flame.

I'm hosting this year like I always do. It used to be a real treat for everyone to come to my place, since I lived in the most exclusive neighborhood in all of Hell. Guests would make jokes like "What's the cover charge going to be?" But while my neighborhood was nice when I moved in, it's pretty shitty now. One of the hazards of eternity, I guess, unless you want to move every hundred years. Now the place is really run down and all the businesses have left. I knew we'd hit the skids when I drove by a Souplantation with my neighbor Ron and he said, without irony, "It would be really cool if we could get one of those". It's come to that. Now people make jokes like "Yeah, we'll be there, just let me get my flak jacket out of the attic".

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Remember, Burning Man looks fun...but it's full of filthy stinking hippies.

Rue McClanahan (1934-2010)

I'm not promoting anything, Homeland Security can worry about REAL things, but...tonight, West Hollywood will burn!!! People will take to the streets, move Betty White to an undisclosed safe house, and challenge Death to a duel. It'll kinda be a practice for the Rapture, since the same people will be around for both.

I'm not joking, does anyone have a visual confirmation on Betty White? This is not a drill, much like Highlander (a movie or TV show I've never actually seen), there is only one Golden Girl *sob*

Since it's premiere, MTV's "Jersey Shore" has received a staggering amount of criticism from the New Jersey Italian American Legislative Council. Caucus Chairman Joseph "Joey Ravioli" Vitale said the "wildly offensive" show promotes derogatory ethnic stereotypes. And in a letter to Viacom, MTV's parent company, Joey Ravioli demanded that the show be cancelled, and in exchange, he would "send you's some meatballs and Grigio."

Perhaps he should have sent an oaky Chard, because "Jersey Shore" remains on the air. And personally, I think MTV has some freshly waxed balls for keeping Mike's freshly waxed situation around. But more importantly, in the hysteria surrounding the casts' love of offensively smearing ricotta on each other's wife beaters and then licking it off (rather, it should be licked off and then spit into an al dente shell), the media hasn't even bothered to report on the most positive aspect of the show:

The young women of the cast. 

For far too long, MTV reality series have focused on drunk, slutty women with perfectly-proportioned, unattainable body types, so it's nice to finally see MTV choosing drunk, slutty women with far sloppier body types easily attained by the second semester of freshmen year. The big-boned women, Angelina, Jenni "J-Woww", Nicole "Snooki", and Sammi "Sweetheart" clearly have healthy appetites and spend most of their time consuming New Jersey's four basic food groups: Everclear, cranberry juice, ice, and calzones.

And instead of obsessively exercising on the treadmill for hours at a time, these all-natural ladies are showing girls everywhere that there are far safer more interactive ways to burn those unwanted ice calories off. Like spending time in the Jacuzzi, for instance. Simultaneously chugging vodka, removing your bra, and manually stimulating a situation, all while sitting in oppressive heat, offer a superb cardio session. And though not scientifically proven, it may also help you take a punch.

So step off, detractors, and give this show the friggin' respect it deserves, and don't trim the fat.

(Note: While Prongs has never actually watched "Jersey Shore", she did grow up in New Jersey, so any assumptions made above are not assumptions, but actual fact. Peace & Meatballs, Audi 5000.)

Yesterday PETA unveiled the latest ad for its "I'd Rather Go Naked Than Wear Fur" campaign, featuring Bethenny Frankel, member of People with Extraordinarily Little Talent Society (PELTS).

My Cheetah-lined hat is off to you, PETA, because your ads continue to intrigue me. I find myself thinking, as I cut into my still-mooing T-Bone, "Who is PETA's demographic?" Considering your recent choice of spokespeople, I can only assume that your research, presumably conducted by underpaid monkeys at typewriters, shows that your core audience is people invested in reality television. How else can you justify burning our retinas with the likes of Steve-O, Khloe Kardashian, and Karina Smirnoff? (You know it's bad when your last name is a brand and they still don't want you.)

It makes sense though. PETA's invasive studies done on bunnies, show that reality TV viewers are far less intelligent people who can be more easily swayed into giving up those necessary extravagances like fitted Dalmatian tees adorned with hamster noses, and squirrel-tail tampons.

And as for the rest of us, the nod-and-wink, upper-crust "Adult Swim" viewer? Manatee flippers make for a lovely corset.