LeBron Got a Piece Of That.

Heyo LeBron. Getcha hand off my boy's pecker. He ain't like that. But then again, I don't blame you for trying. I'm sure the MVP's got an MVP.

Oprah Gives Me The Chills.

What're you trying to say Oprah? Oh goddamnit. You're right. You don't gotta be so mean about it though. Jeez.

When was the last time Oprah was cold? Seriously. I can hear the sighs and the, "Who the fuck cares?"

I do.

Oprah is a billionaire. She has her own television show. She puts writers on the map just by pretending to read their books. She can be whatever weight she wants and somehow use it to her advantage (when fat: Big is beautiful! when kinda skinny: Healthy heart, healthy mind, healthy life!). All sorts of white people love her. And really that's all you need. To be successful in this world you need to be loved by white people.

I love Oprah. I'd marry her in a heartbeat. And not for her money (but she'd have to give me an allowance for doing the chores and pleasuring her, which is undoubtedly an unbelievable backbreaking chore) but because I think it'd be awesome to watch her live. I'm sure she gets whatever she wants whenever she wants and this makes me wonder if she simply skips some of the basic human experiences. "Diarrhea? Who needs it? Runny nose? Don't you have an assistant to wipe it? Ear ache? How can I have an ear ache when I only let people talk when I want to hear them? You think there are unexpected noises in my life? I'm fuckin' Oprah bitch. Recognize."

Does she get cold? I mean, if she wanted to be cold I'm sure she could make it happen. She can make pretty much anything happen (except fitting into a size...well any size below 20). I'm sure all of her homes are the perfect Oprah temperature (which is somewhere in between 74 degrees and heaven). I'm sure her private jet is the perfect Oprah temperature. Her offices. Her castles. Her bunkers. Her...everything. So when would Oprah be cold? When she's touring in a cold city? Limos are heated. She wears the finest furs that are lined with $100 bills, body armor, and white people love.

Oh wait. Nevermind. I bet Oprah gets cold when she drinks her milkshakes too fast. Sorry for wasting your time.

Do you think Oprah ever doesn't wipe good enough? I feel like I do it at least once a day. So when you see me just assume I'm saucy and uncomfortable down there. That's why I'm pissed off all the time.

Occupy Wall Street.

Whatever happened to Occupy Wall Street? I haven't heard anyone mention anything about it in a couple of months. Did they achieve their goal? Do their fathers finally love them? Seriously. What happened? For months I had to read about non-contributing dreadlocked idiots changing "the conversation" about America. Every moron and their mother thought this was going to be the revolution America needed to get back on track. A revolution carried out by sleeping in a park and free loading from (other) guilty white people. That'll show 'em!!!

Now a few months later all I hear is silence. What happened to this huge liberal movement? That's what Occupy Wall Street was supposed to be right? Was (am) I misinformed? Then again, this does play out exactly the way I would expect a liberal movement to...a bunch of fucking pussies calling it quits and kidding themselves into thinking they actually made any sort of real change. Do you know what actually happened to Occupy Wall Street?

It got a little chilly outside!

Where are all the guilty white people at to feed us organic seal sandwiches? Oh wait. It's too cold out here for them.

What the fuck are those disgusting beards for? Of course a little cold weather was enough to shut these people up and force them to go back to their optional shitty lives. (Most of their lives aren't shitty at all. People who have actual shitty lives are busy worrying about real problems and aren't sleeping in parks or sitting in a drum circle. Actually some of them are sleeping in parks, those people are called Homeless.) Could you imagine what the world would be like if everyone was as afraid of the winter as these fuckstains? I can see it now. Americans dug into deep trenches in subzero trenches planning their next attack against the Nazis. "Goddamnit, I can't get rid of these sniffles!" "I know. And the guy bringing around the rations was so rude to me!" "I'm going to have get this crown replaced on one of my teeth because my they're are chattering so much." "Tell me about it, I've gone through like 2 Chap Sticks in the past 2 weeks!" "Maybe we should just wait until the Spring to bring fascism to an end." "Yea. The Jews can wait. I mean, it can't be that bad right?"

If these Occupy Wall Street Revolutionaries (HA!) were around in any other time or in any other country they'd just be considered a big group of homeless people that like talking about Phish and not washing their hair. But instead, since Americans are so fucking fat, lazy, and entitled, they are considered relevant. The ones who were going to combat wealth inequality, the rape of our environment, and all of the other bullshit the "99%" have to deal with. Are they terrified of global warming because winter is their only excuse to go home and hide in their rooms?

I'm sure some of you reading this are saying, "Marty this is totally unfair! People are still out there occupying and trying to make the world a better place." Please. If you want to make a difference start smacking the "1%" around. There aren't that many of them! Find their offices, walk through the door and punch them in the dick or kick them straight in the pussy. Directly in the pussy. Not on the side of it. Get a toe stuck. Or jam finger on a dick punch. That's a start. If you're not willing to do that then shut the fuck up.

And seriously, if these Occupy Wall Street Revolutionaries were the people that we were hoping would make a difference, then I'm glad it got cold out. I'll freeze my fucking ass off and love every second of it.

Vote 2012!

Since I'm dumb, it took me forever to figure out that my friend Adam named his dog "Willard The Mormon" after Mitt Romney. He's got my vote. The dog, not that fucking bitch.

Where's Waldo in 2012?

When I was growing up, Where's Waldo? was undoubtedly my favorite book. I would sit and stare at the books for hours. I still own every single one of them, a few Waldo posters, a couple of Waldo puzzles, and remember watching the TV show like it was yesterday. When I was young, my family got together to make an AIDS blanket for my cousin and to make it special we each made some sort of thing that best represented us or anything we remembered about him. I remembered him loving Waldo just as much as I did (or at least he pretended to) so I made a Waldo face out of felt and sewed it on.

Not a bad idea.

Looking back at Where's Waldo? I struggle to understand what the point of the books were. Were they supposed to motivate children to pay close attention to detail? Were they trying to make sure I'd always be alert and attentive? Or were the books supposed to teach me about all the monotony and craziness that goes along with people-watching (in illustrated form)? I guess they were probably just for fun and parents liked them because it kept their children occupied for a little while (in my case, weeks at a time) so they could go cheat on each other or beat siblings. My parents did neither and maybe that's why I'm confused.

Either way, who was this Waldo guy? He had a dog named Woof. A female friend named Wilma and her twin Wenda (I see you Waldo, is that why you walk with a cane? get in where you figgity fit in boy). He knew an unbelievably tragically named wizard named Wizard Whitebeard which is about as uncreative and boring as you can get. Why do wizards have such terrible names? Wizard of Oz. Well, c'mon man. Give yourself a real name. Like Dennis or Shamazz. Then there was Odlaw, his arch-nemesis, who really just looked like the Mexican Waldo.

In almost every picture Waldo was staring right at the reader. Why do we have to go and look for you Waldo? What were you about to do before I spotted your ass? Or what did you just get done doing? And why did you always have that weirdo smile? It kind of makes me wonder if Waldo was constantly doing something shady.

I think the next Waldo books should be for an adult audience. This time we could catch Waldo doing whatever creepy/weird shit he was into.

Where's Waldo?

• Jerking off to himself in the mirror.
• Sitting an uncomfortable amount of time on a bench at a packed playground.
• At a movie, continuously digging around the popcorn bucket that is covering his lap but never actually pulling out a piece of popcorn.
• In a dark alley that he knows young college girls cut through to get to their dorms.
• Walking Woof really slow past the same dog park waiting for one of the cute girls watching their dog to notice him.
• Jogging at a perfect speed to maintain 7 feet of distance directly behind a girl with a nice bumper.
• Waiting for the train and thinking, "I wonder how many shits that homeless guy takes a day."

I'm not sure where I was going with any of this. I'm starting to realize that the thing I wanted most was to give Waldo some sort of significance in the way his books shaped me. But all I ended up doing was turning him into some sort of pervert that does the same things I do. (I don't own a mirror, there are no alleys in New York, and I don't go to playgrounds.) I guess the only thing I can take away from Waldo after all these years is that I better hope no one is watching me closely. Because if they are, I'm fucked.

Patrice O'Neal

"Get upstairs Susan, warm my bed up!" Genius.

Messy Life. Messy Room.

I spy a New Yorker!

I think my New Year's Resolution should have been to clean my room. Not regularly or anything. Just once. Because it looks like it will take me a year to get this disaster straightened up. Can't wait until I can own other people to clean this shit up for me. Plus, I need to get it cleaned so when my new friends stay over they'll have a place to sleep.

It looks even worse in real life.

Just a few of my new friends...

Otis. He likes to poop right in the middle of the street. He's a Pug/Chihuahua mix. That's why he does whatever he wants.

Pierogi. He's afraid of everything. But he sure is handsome. And fortunately he's not Polish.

Oscar. The ladies love this man.

Mila. She sure knows how to strike a pose. Everything named Mila seems to be beautiful.

Henry. He's almost too cool.

Levan and Chance. These two are my favorites.

So I'm cleaning my room for them. Not for any of you bitches.