I’m so sick of marketing. It’s everywhere. Why? ’Cause it works. Forget bottled water. Think “essential” oils. There is a whole industry devoted to selling women various forms of scented Crisco for fifty bucks an ounce. What’s so essential about a lavender mist air rejuvenator? ...

I don’t care what people say. These things have no flavor and no purpose other than getting stuck in my teeth. I hate them only slightly less than poppy seeds, which also wreak havoc on one’s dental geography. Of course, poppy seeds trump the former in Zen shitting by skewing the results...

What’s the perfect woman? For me, it all comes down to balance. I look for high intoxication and low...

What is a hipster? It’s a poorly dressed, liberal-leaning, self-indulgent lun-i-ac that has yet to realize that their androgynous fashion statements have already been run through by Diane Keaton and Elvis Costello. They often attempt to convince themselves of their own coolness by shunning...

What’s the most effective love language?      I’m assuming you don’t speak Hooker. In that case, I’d opt for Spanish with Chinese subtitles. Forget the pop psychology, Susan. Love is a numbers game. You want to score you have to shoot the puck. Just be yourself and slap it in...

            Advertising: as a capitalist, I’m all for it. But show a little effort, would you? Blasting out billion emails with the random-ass hope that someone will respond is like me leaving a hard copy of this manuscript on the six train and hoping an editor from Random House...

People tell me I have bad breath. Any home remedies? First of all, stop playing switch. (Sticking one thumb up your ass and the other in your mouth and then, well, switching.) That’s no cure for boredom. Telling someone they have bad breath is one of the most socially awkward things a person...

Bullies are nothing if not consistent. Be it schoolyard scuffles, barroom brawls, or even a faintly-veiled patch of passive-aggressive boardroom bravado, something compels these emotionally insecure, steroid-filled, small-penis-having, dimwits to mercilessly taunt the small, snarky, sarcastic...

I’m a Darwin kind of guy. If someone manages to scam you, well, you likely deserve the ass-monkeying. The thing that annoys me about psychics is their outfits. I give you kudos for not providing any real service and for basically being balls-out up front with your lack of credentials. But...

Kids annoy me. Sure the creatures have their occasional moments of cuteness, but more often than not the screechy, snot-covered germ spreaders make me long for a roll of duct tape and a shovel. (Okay maybe that’s a bit harsh, but a mute button would be nice.) Anyway, I was reminded of my...

            For the last time, you’re not famous. There are a variety of explanations for your existence but I assure you, none of them has anything to do with a launching pad for your acting career. For example, it’s quite possible that you are: Part of a larger government...

I’m so sick of Prince Nabu assuring me that his personal courier will pay top dollar for my used box spring and dirt collection if only I would forward my most intimate financial details to his man servant, Akeam. What part of cash only and local buyer do you not understand? Of course when...