THAT BELL WAS ONE DONG AWAY FROM RETIREMENT

Garbage Day - Celebrity Edition

Friday is garbage day around here and today I have three big stinkers headed straight for the heap.

Here's what I'm throwing out this week:


The name "Lance"

I consider the name "Lance" to be a cousin of the name, "Glenn", except that while "Lance" was invented by mere mortals, "Glenn" was forged in the fires of Mount Dude by a surfer named The Sorcerer. Each rose to prominence during the seventies and eighties and both pretty much mean "laser man". Unfortunately, as each new age dawns, both these names have been largely forgotten by new mums and dums, opting for modern names like "Tire" instead. I think it's time we put the name "Lance" out of its misery. It was having trouble already, but then Lance Armstrong went and lied to everyone about using potions to help him win tours of France. I can't imagine too many parents wanting to name their baby boy after our generation's Grinch Who Stole Christmas. And even if someone were tempted to dub their child Lance because they find him an inspiratational sex machine who did nothing wrong, the kid will forever be teased with insults like:

Hey Tour de Lance -- eat shit.
You're named after an old guy who stunk
Fuck you, Lance.

Kurt Cobain's Birthday Present

The old sponge of grunge would've turned 46 this week if it wasn't for a certain sponge of grunge named Kurt Cobain. I went to Wal-Mart to get him a gift like I do every year, this time going with some cologne and a package of Nibs, but on my way home I couldn't find a dog to pretend was him so I threw it all out. It was for the best though. When I got home and logged onto the Internet I realized that the whole thing was blown way out of proportion and that celebrating a dead man's birthday is like celebrating a stegosaurus' wedding. In unrelated news, I've been selling off-season candy canes to a Christmas fan club and things are going great for me. 

My Oscar Pistorius Sponsorship

I sponsored the Olympic Athlete/Girlfriend Slayer during the London games and in return he promoted my line of shoe horns that had shoe jokes printed on them. You may remember our famous print ad that featured Pistorius wearing two big versions of our horns as legs and a thought bubble saying "Now if only I could find a woman who has a shoe for a mouth". No one really understood it and we fired our copywriter. But the hype generated by the confusion was enough to push fourth quarter sales into the dillions, which is just a fancy industry term for five hundred bucks each. Now that the "Bladerunner" is on trial for murder, we decided to throw away his sponsorship, opting instead for a guy with a nickname from a better movie. We went with this stuntman named "Jurassic Park" who has this neat talent of being able to eat sap. If he ever encounters sap with bugs in it he cries, "DNA!" and the crowd goes nuts.