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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My consultation with Genghis Khan notwithstanding, the real front lines of this war are in Australia, where Victorian Premiere Ted Ballieu has taken on the Scrooge role and told everyone in Parliament that just because they're the government, they shouldn't be drunk on the job - even during Christmas! At least the article features a picture of a really cool tray that holds 8 glasses of beer. I bet that tray was headed to someone who, like Mr. Ballieu's colleagues, understands the true meaning of Christmas: making sure you pass out face-down in a safe area.

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*

Finally. FIN-A-LLY. Our dream woman with the dream boobs and dream ass is single. Kim Kardashian and Reggie Bush are over. We don't know why yet, but we can only guess it has something to do with Reggie maybe realizing he's gay, because HOW WOULD ANY STRAIGHT MAN BREAK UP WITH KIM KARDASHIAN? We don't care if her brain is filled with Cracker Jacks or her family is bats**t insane or her stepfather's face looks like a lizard (Hi, Mr. Jenner!). AHHHHHH! KIM KARDASHIAN IS SINGLE! Those words give us hope that our penis doesn't have to live a lifetime without the gentle caress of Kim's booby body.

Below are the only two photos of Kim Kardashian that really matter.

Dear Southwest,

I was saddened to learn of the plight of Hollywood polymath Kevin Smith. It is unfortunate that as the world grows in size, airplane seating remains mired in an age of smaller, trimmer bee-hinds. Having been a Southwest fanatic since being old enough to purchase airfare, I would like to suggest amending the customers-of-size policy before a tsunami of lawsuits overflows my favorite airline much like customers’ cheeseburgers overflow your armrests.

I have always been perplexed by the arbitrary rules chiseled into air-travel. 50lb bags are ok but 50+a pair of shoes = $25. The armrest rule makes sense but the width of the armrests seems narrow for the times and the overhead compartments have been whittled into wedges that discourage no one from stuffing in their bulging closets. We need change. The country wants it. And being who you are, it should be you to trailblaze.

Unlike politics where the goal is to grow bigger and spend more, business change can happen economically. At your core, your business is little different from that of any parcel service. You shuttle parcels from point A to point B for profit. Yours only happen to have heartbeats. And whiney demands. And peanut allergies. But at the very very core, the business is the same. The heavier the load and the larger its dimensions, the higher the cost of freight. It simply costs more to ship Mr. Smith and his colleagues in circumference than a group of people gymnast-sized.

So how best to handle arbitrary body-sizes? Formulaically.

At the curb-side checkin, Southwest should install scales where the passenger, with all baggage will be weighed. The total weight is the burden of the airline based on which the fuel is purchased. Computers will also size up both the person and the carry-on and decide how best to seat them and how much space will be required to make things comfortable for everyone. Customers-of-width can easily be seated next to customers-of-length without too much negative effect. Since size is arbitrary, so should be the armrest widths, and all passengers can have the option to purchase as much width as they like on top of their required minimum. Analogy would be choosing the right-sized box for your parcel except the parcel is yourself. It must cover your shipment but beyond that, your box can be as big as your budget allows. All collected data will boil down to a price which would be the passenger’s fare. Those watching in horror as a Mr. Smith-size person lumbers towards that middle-seat will know that even though the flight will be unpleasant, Mr. Smith paid more for his than they did. He should considering his greater burden. Given that we humans are fairness-minded apes, that knowledge alone would make things better. At least until the TSA requires stasis for air travel at which point you’ll just be able to stack us up any which way. Just don’t beak our legs like you do our roller-wheels.

Love & Bacon Grease,

Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SFF - Southwest Fan Forever

http://www.helgasmailroom.com/

Me and Kevin, right before he ate that child.

You know when you get really drunk and high from huffing spray paint (gold) out of a paper bag (brown) and you and your friends come up with the most AMAZING idea? These are the greatest ideas, right? Right?

What do you think would happen if for some reason you had access to all the elements and ingredients to make your ideas reality... Yeah and your grandparents owned some sweatshops where 12-year-olds slaved away making socks for the British Premier League, so you have a big trust fund. Basically, you have infinite resources. What do you think would happen?

Yeah, besides the first ever monkey, marshmallow go-cart champion being crowned, (Mr. Chattlebanks), because that's awesome.

What would happen?

You would make some pretty awful stuff, stuff that would amaze people on one level and one level only. Yeah, the "why-the-F-did-this-ever-get-made-and-who-thought-that-this-was-a-good-idea-were-they-high-on-gold-spray-paint?" level. You got it!

Oh, you want an example of this kind of idea brought to fruition?

How about this video where an underage white girl runway model, Karlie Kloss, claims to be from St. Luis and then plays ping pong with Notorious Wally Green?

Did that illustrate my point? Did I have a point?

I guess my point is that money is no substitute for talent and true genius, and neither is gold... spray paint.

P.S. JD Ferguson directed the above video. Is he the greatest director of our time?

Disclaimer: I did no research whatsoever into how this video actually came about, and I know nothing about JD Ferguson.

I am Chuck McCarthy or Charles McCarthy.

There are lots of Chuck McCarthy's in the world, but one in particular really has me in a fighting mood. What Chuck? The retired MMA fighter Charles/Chuck "Chainsaw" McCarthy.

Sure, I dominate Google searches for "Chuck McCarthy" but if you search "Charles McCarthy" this joker's Wikipedia entry is the first listing to come up. This pisses me off for a few reasons. One, I have probably played a more important role in the history of MMA in the United States than him (I refuse to back this statement up with any facts). Two, I don't have a Wikipedia entry. I've been on TV, on the radio, in magazines, and I've definitely been on the Internet... a LOT. Three, I am bigger and proabably tougher than this... this "Chainsaw." Four, where is my cool nickname? Don't I deserve a cool nickname? Haven't I at least earned that?

What am I going to do?

I can't fight Wikipedia. I can't fight Google. Well, I could, but not with my fists... and I don't think winning either of these fights would garner me a tough guy nickname like "Chainsaw."

What am I going to do?

An open letter to Charles "Chainsaw" McCarthy:

Dear Charles,

Charles "Chainsaw" McCarthy! I'm calling you out! I dare you to come out of retirement for one last fight against me for the rights to your Wikipedia entry, Google listing dominance, and nickname!

Obviously we will both need to get back in shape and train for a couple of months. I will probably try to get Forest Griffin to train me. I guess you can train with your old trainer, or maybe Mr. T can train you.

Our training could be covered like the HBO series 24/7 - Chuck vs. Chuck 24/7.  People are going to get pumped over our grudge match, especially Conan O'Brien, Notre Dame fans, Chuck Norris fans, and fans of NBC's Chuck.

So you aren't in the fighting mood anymore, but come on Chuck, are you really happy sitting at home in Florida, playing C.O.D. and getting BJs from your 19 year old stripper girlfriend? There has to be more to life than that... Don't get me wrong, that does sound pretty good, but don't tell me you don't miss the thrill of the fight. Yeah, I know she probably does it while you are playing and talking smack on your "headset" to Kimbo Slice about "head shots", but doesn't the OCTAGON call to you still?

One more fight... come on girly boy.

Sincerely,

Chuck "Soon to be Chainsaw" McCarthy

P.S. We shouldn't let the fact that we both look great with our shirts off go to waste.

Chuck McCarthy is the mastermind behind IdeasByChuck.com, where he gives away great ideas in the hopes that you turn them into reality and remember to send him a small percentage of your profits. He Twitters here and Tumbls here. Chuck will be guest blogging for LiquidGeneration the next couple weeks!

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.)