Ashes to ashes, dust to stuffed crust.

I read an article yesterday that said pizza places in Naples, Italy may be using coffin wood to bake their pizzas. And not new coffin wood either. Ueeewwwsed coffin wood. Mwooooooh Ha ha ha ha ha!

An Italian daily newspaper called Il Giornale said,

A gang might have set up a market for (dug up) coffins sold to hard-hearted owners of bakeries and pizzerias looking to save money on wood

That has to be one the dumbest idea since the Ball Bra. First of all wouldn’t it be a lot easier, less incriminating and more super-naturally friendly to just illegally chop down some trees and sell that wood to pizza store owners? Is there some sort of tree/wood shortage in Naples that I don’t know about? It’s a possibility. A quick photo search of Naples just turned out lots of pictures of garbage.

I suppose they could use garbage to bake their pizzas but unfortunately that would infringe on Domino’s Pizza’s international copyright laws.

So instead Naples probably exports their garbage to be used as toppings in these pizzas

But alright let’s say it is worth digging up coffins just to sell the wood. Would it still be any good? Doesn’t it get all dirty and rotten under the ground with the worms crawling in and the worms crawling out and all that? I know every movie I see where zombies comes back to life, they just bust out of those things like tissue paper.



Yet zombies don’t seem all that solid themselves .



And what about all that toxic varnish and paint and satin? People aren’t exactly getting buried in pine boxes anymore.

Oh well, I cooked a hotdog over a citronella candle once and I’m fine.

If I was the owner of one of these coffin cooking pizzerias I would embrace it for the hype. I’d be the one offering up the real tombstone pizzas. Fuck, my oven would be made out of tombstones!

I don’t know if I could offer 100% real cheese like that guy up there (that sounds expensive) but I would guarantee that all my pizzas would be cooked on an authentic stolen tombstone heated by real coffins (and possibly dead bodies). If things went well I could start selling them in vending machines too.

(Pizzas cooked with dead people couldn’t taste worse then this)

I’m sure I could heat the vending machines with pet coffins or midget coffins or something. (Do midgets have smaller tombstones? Do they get a cut rate plot because they take up less space? I’ll have to have my secretary look into that.)

For the take out orders I could serve them in a coffin shaped box.

(Party Size)

And for my commercials I could have a medium or a gypsy or whatever you call them come in and resurrect Bret Hart so his Ghost could recreate those Crack the Cardboard commercials for Pizza Pizza. Picture this but with Bret more see-through and dead looking.



Wait I just realized it was Owen Hart not Bret Hart that died.

Hmmm. That kind of puts a damper on my promotion. That’s ok. I have an even better idea. Win a free funeral right in my pizzeria! My expert chefs (hobos and or the coffin stealers) will cremate your loved one right in our tombstone oven. Then everyone can enjoy a post funeral personal pizza cooked by their dearly departed.

(Before)

(After)

Mmmmm, now that’s good Grandpa.

Bieber (not Beaver) Feaver!

Have you guys seen this little creep?

He’s called Justin Bieber. Not Justin Beaver.

Here’s his video (if you can stomach it).



Ugh. That was like a nuclear bomb of uncomfort dipped in gay. It used to piss me off that channels like MTV and Much Music don’t even show videos anymore but now I’m inclined to double high five their heads of programming. Even with the nations’ collective music stations seeming to ban anything to do with music on their channels I’ve still seen this piece of shit twice and that’s more Baby, baby baby Ohhhs and tween bullshit then any man can handle, except maybe a pedophile.

(Fergie Oliver: At least I liked the ladies.)

So apparently Justin Bieber (not Beaver) is a pop super star and a teenage heartthrob. Heartthrob? Really? He’s like 10 fucking years old! Teenage girls should be getting paid to watch him, not the other way around.

(Ladies… I have, count em, (sticks out the fingers) two pubes!)

Then again I guess he’s no different then Munudo. They were a big hit with teenage girls in the 80s.

(If anyone wonders what turned Ricky Martin gay, it was those pants).

They even went as far as to kick out members out of the band when they either turned 16, grew facial hair or their voices broke. Probably the same rules that had to be followed at the Drummond household.

Mr. Drummond: You’re getting a little gangly and mannish there Willis. I think I’ll drop you off back in the ghetto on Monday.

Arnold: What you talking about?!

An even more successful and far creepier child band was the Mini Pops.

This was a bunch of little kids that covered pop hits and made videos dressed like the stars they covered. Here they are doing Video Killed the Radio Star. (Warning: do not watch while on drugs.)



Scary. Even scarier is the fact that the Mini Pops are still going. They’re not quite as creepy but they make up for it by being way more lame. They’re now called Mini Pops Kids and in recent years they’ve released 6 double disc CDs and a Christmas album under K-Tel. In the most recent volume they sing Poker Face and Hoedown Throwdown but my favorite is Volume 2 because the commercial has this amazing fat kid covering Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day.

No one’s going to send Kim Kardashian death threats for flirting with that kid anytime soon. And what’s she doing flirting with Justin Bieber (not Beaver) anyway? Isn’t she like 30 years old? She’s as bad as Mr. Drummond.

Justin Bieber (not Beaver) would be best to just stay away from both of them. What he should do is move in with George and Katherine Papadapalis. They always seemed like upstanding no-nonsense parental figures.

(Look at their faces. They say, This kid is ruining all our action but we’ve got to do the right thing.)

Better yet Justin Bieber (not Beaver) why don’t you use all your newly gained wealth to purchase a rocket and fire yourself into space? Then we can all get back to enjoying pop music that prevents the sexualization of children, not promotes it.

Keeping up with the Shitheads.

Once upon a time getting a tattoo branded you an outcast.

You had to be a sailor, a biker, an outlaw or an ex-con to sport one.

You were tough and dangerous and your tattoo was a warning sign to the squares to keep their distance. But nowadays everyone is getting them. Your mom has just discovered a more fitting eulogy for little Pablo Escobark then a shoe box in the yard after watching a Miami Ink marathon on TLC.

Your dad loves those Ed Hardy briefs he got for Christmas so much that he’s decided he wants a permanent pair

Your older brother’s 90s tribal tattoos are fading in the sun as he pushes a stroller down the street.

(These are the human equivalent of racing stripes for your car.)

And your sister and her friends all got matching tattoos to remember that great night they had together during reading week last year.

(This is the combined equivalent of Ugg boots and Jagger shots.)

You see? Tattoos at best have become the replacement for hair plugs for mid-life crisis men in their 40s.

And at worst an everlasting testament to just how dumb/drunk/high someone can get.

So what is a young reprobate to do these days if he or she wishes to freak out the man? Here’s a few ideas to get you started.

Change your name to something offensive.

Lots of people seem to be getting their names changed to something stupid. A man in Carlisle changed his name from Richard Smith to Stormhammer Deathclaw Firebrand. and a teenager in Glastonbury has had his name changed to  Captain Fantastic Faster than Superman Spiderman Batman Wolverine The Hulk and the Flash combined So think along those lines but more shocking (Ok, maybe not that shocking). Might I suggest changing your name to Fuck You or Vainy Boner or Shithead. Think of all the street cred. you’ll get when people ask you your name and you reply, Fuck You and pull out your ID to prove it. Think of how pissed off your dad will be when he has to introduce you to his boss and you shake the bosses hand vigorously and say Vainy Boner, pleased to meet you. And as for the last one, you wouldn’t even have to tell people your name. You could just get this hat and point to it like Prince.

Start crossdressing (this one’s for the homies).

This will let people know that you’re most likely mentally unstable and it will force them to think about all the weird sexual things you’re into. They might not think you’re tough or dangerous but they’ll definitely keep their distance.

Stop bathing (this one’s for the fly girls).

Women hate gender stereotypes and are always trying to prove that they can be just one of the guys.



Well one of those stereotypes is that women are always clean and sweet smelling where as most guys are slobs. Well if you can’t beat ‘em join ‘em ladies. Stop bathing and become a bum. Now when I say bum I don’t mean a homeless person. Society expects them to be filthy. I just mean stop washing yourself or your clothes. You still go to work, hit the starbucks and go out with your friends on week ends. If anyone asks you why you smell so bad or why you don’t take a shower just tell them that you’re too cool for that. Or say, Fuck you and your system!

Change your race.

Everyone remembers that kid in school that went away for the summer and came back with plaid pants and a Mohawk. Hell, I think Spike Lee even made a movie about it.

That might have been considered crazy 20 years ago but not now. These days people are giving their babies Mohawks. You’re not a baby are you?

Instead go away for the summer and come back as Spike Lee. That would really freak people out. I could get into the long winded explanation of how you go about doing this but it’s a lot easier and more fun if you just rent Soul Man.





And don’t think you brothers and sisters can’t get in on the act. Remember Michael Jackson?

Of course I remember him. Check out my new tattoo bro!

David Woof Woof Berkowitz.

David Berkowitz, the Son of Sam, was  denied parole again.

(Mom of Sam: Take this next door and see if the Mcfly’s would like it.)

For those that don’t know, David Berkowitz confessed to killing 6 people and wounding seven in the New York City area between 1976 and 1977. He seemed to target young women and young couples parked in cars. He also claimed to be part of a satanic cult and was told to commit the crimes by his neighbor’s dog Harvey who Berkowitz said was possessed by a demon. Here’s his mug shot from when he was arrested.

He kind of looks like a cross between Bruce Springsteen

and Frank N. Furter from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Although now a days the Son of Sam call himself Son of Hope and is a born again Jew for Jesus.

He also now looks like a cross between Dr. Phil

and Bob Ross.

Actually he doesn’t really look like Bob Ross. Maybe it’s just that creepy nice guy smile or the background. I’ll tell you what David Berkowitz does have though. A horrible looking, outdated website full of  whacky religous stuff. On it you’ll find his apology for being a murdering lunatic, his advice for parents (don’t get your child a dog, don’t take advice from murdering lunatics) and a description of all the jobs and religious work he does in prison.

Son of Sam doesn’t bust rocks but one thing he does do is work as a mobility guide for site impaired inmates. Yes, that’s right. The insane serial killer that took his killing instructions from a dog is now giving instructions to blind inmates like a seeing eye dog.

(Turn left. Turn right Kill those people and harvest their blood for Satan!)

Do you think if he was paroled that one of the stipulations of his release would be that he’s not allowed to be around dogs? You know, in case they start telling him what to do. He should come channel the thoughts of my dog Mutton.

(File photo: Mutton. MENSA identification card picture)

He’d either be caught trying to steal this

Or he’d only be shooting rollerbladers.



I don’t think anyone would have a problem with that.

Or maybe they could use dogs to keep him under control. They could give him one of those little dogs that are afraid of everything and it would tell him just sit in the corner and shake all day.

It would have the same effect as that plastic prison they used to hold Magneto.

Or give him that dog that only says sausages.

(Bonus: Did you see that guy’s fucking hair?!)

Actually maybe it’s not a good idea to give him the sausages dog. He might go on a killing spree and start making human sausages.

Not that it hasn’t been done before. I’m pretty sure Johnsonville Brats are made out of hobo meat.

(Johnsonville B.R.A.T.s: Bums, Ragmen, Asylum-seekers, Tramps)

And if that’s the case then pretty soon the Son of Sam is going to have a new cell mate.