"Maybe I can play a hooker!"

So I'm perusing maximonline.com the other day, and I see there Girlfriend of the Day. It's some college chick with huge boobies, and apparently, a decent-sized IQ. I dunno, I was concussed by the sight of such wonderful mammaries. Anyways, my questions is this: what fucking parent would be happy, or proud, that their child, the fruit of their loins, is the masturbation fantasy of a million men? Most of whom, are, undeniably, the basement-dwelling kind. The kind that get turned on when you punch them in the face.

I mean, I can kinda see being happy that they're happy, but come on. Who the fuck are you kidding?! Your daughter is, essentially, a hooker. I may not give her money, but she is the jizz receptacle for a million other guys just like me.

But sex sells. I guess. I always thought it was the sophomoric humor and liberal use of the word "fuck" but then again, what the hell do I know? I once wrote a post using the word shitty about a thousand fuckin' times to describe John Tucker Must Die.

Just...wow.

I just sat and listened to possibly the most rambling, incoherent diatribe ever in my short life. This black guy sitting next to me started talking, almost as if to nobody. Just talking to himself it seemed, until he turned and asked if somebody named "D" was also known by Darius or Damien or some other name that starts with the letter d.

He was wanting to know where the white girls were at. 'Cause he loves white girls.

Now he's holding some random baby that some lady brought in that doesn't live here. And this guy reeks of alcohol.

Welcome to Natchitoches, Louisiana.

Now you people see what I have to deal with on a regular basis.

A serious, critical look at the Archie comics.

They suck more balls than Paris Hilton. Not only are they completely and totally full of bullshit, I can't even suspend my disbelief for one moment based solely on one character: Moose. You all know Moose. He's the schizo of the group. One minute he's playing some sport with Archie, Jughead and Reggie. And the next, somebody has said something as innocent as "hi!" to his girlfriend Midge, and then he's beating the living fuck out them, Tyler Durden-style.

It's because of this gigantic dumbass that I cannot enjoy these comics. First of all, let me say that I can enjoy fiction if I can believe that some, if not all, of the shit that's going down can actually happen. I mean, for superhero comics, I can suspend disbelief simply because it's supposed to be so fantastical that it doesn't matter if it's real or not. But Archie was based on the writer's own experiences as a teenager in Connecticut, so explain why I shouldn't be allowed to think that Jughead can eat a great deal, and a redheaded loser would wanna be smothered in lovin' from a sexy brunette and a smokin' blonde?

So that means that if'n I said hi to Midge, I can count on that big lumbering motherfucker to come out of some bush somewhere and kick my ass? Bullshit. I come from the South, motherfucker. Either I'll come back with about 3 more country-fed motherfuckers, or I'll do what my black friends do: roll 30 deep with a taillight out, you big son of a bitch. So you got a choice of me politely saying hi to your girlfriend, me and my country friends cracking your head to the white meat or you and her both getting shot in a drive-by. I'm rollin' through the hood, every nigger saying, "I'm supposed to die tonight." That's 50 Cent.

Seriously. One character has kept me from enjoying an agreeably decent comic. I remember reading one comic where Archie asked Midge for some homework assignment and Moose STILL kicked Archie's ass. If this were real life, Moose's ass would be in prison for all the assault and batteries he's committed.

Take Moose out, and the comic would be a decent toilet seat read.

Mr. Ebert. Welcome back. We missed you.

That works better when you of Agent Smith saying it, like he told Neo at the climactic battle at the end of Matrix Revolutions.

Or when Hugo Weaving provides the voice of Megatron for the Transformers movie, and Roger Ebert, my absolute favorite movie critic, seems to return to be the one who reviews it for the Chicago Sun-Times. Not only is he my favorite, he's the only one I pay any attention too. Pauline Kael? Fuck that dead bitch. Rex Reed can shave that mustache of his and shut the fuck up. And don't even get me started on Ebert's current partner, Richard Roeper. Let me just say this: if I see that piggly looking son of a bitch on the street, I'm gonna leave him where I find him. There's gonna be some furniture moving in this motherfucker!!!

Anyways. Welcome back, Mr. Ebert. Welcome back.