Scientists say that the murder rate goes up when there is a full moon. But so does the rate of people who die looking at the nice big full moon, which is nice.
So answer this, how can we believe that we landed on the moon when July 20 1969 the moon was a waxing crescent? How did the astronauts not slide right off like I do when I&rsquo;m on a big snowboard ramp?
The toughest part about marriage is that you have to keep your fingers crossed behind your back during the honeymoon so when you get divorced you can take it all back.
Everybody talks about that time I got banned from Chuck. E. Cheese Thursdays, but nobody talks about how the moon played a big part in it and didn&rsquo;t do anything to stop it?
Although who knows, maybe it would&rsquo;ve been worse. So I&rsquo;m not really sure who is to blame.

Scientists say that the murder rate goes up when there is a full moon. But so does the rate of peopl...

Inspired Musings

The year was December 17th, winter to be exact. Outside my office it was a wet, dark afternoon&mdash;the type of afternoon you don&rsquo;t bring home to meet mother. Inside I sat, drowning my sorrows in my signature cocktail, scotch and cup, when she walked in.
She had a body that could get glue off and legs that went on for miles. Her face could make all the holy angels in heaven really really horny. Her shoes didn&rsquo;t match her dress. She came in frantically saying something about how her sister had gone missing after hanging around a &ldquo;bad crowd&rdquo; and she wanted me, the city&rsquo;s only private detective open past 5pm on a Sunday, to track her down. The girl had gone bananas&hellip; But maybe just banana enough to get me out my slump.&nbsp; Looked like my bucket of bourbon appletini tonight would be a double.
I told her the only thing she had to fear is that I would find her too fast, or that she was already murdered. Either way I would need some time to get the facts straight and a stiff gin and tonic&mdash;shaken, hold the tonic. The girl&rsquo;s name was Bella Boscoe, and her sister&rsquo;s name was Stella Scoscoe, a real twisty gal who lived downtown and hung out at a dirty joint called &ldquo;The Punky Puss.&rdquo; I checked around and apparently she&rsquo;d been dating Slim Jim Jackson, a hefty fella who went by the name of &ldquo;Husky Joe.&rdquo;
I walked into the club to be greeted by the stench of vomit, coming from my vomit-covered jacket. Half the town was at this watering hole where a lady with fruit on her head was singing about some guy who left her. I would have to use all the skills I had learned over the years in order to remain unseen and quiet&mdash;too quiet&hellip; After snooping around the room for a bit I found Husky Joe, sitting at the craps table, bragging to his goombas about all his favorite crimes. I ordered a whiskey and vodka neat at the bar and inconspicuously stared at him unblinkingly waiting for him to make a move. He finally stepped out into the alley for a smoke, so I followed behind and once we turned off the strip, I fired two warning shots directly into his back.
&ldquo;Freeze, punk!&rdquo; I shouted as he dropped to the floor out of fear and intimidation. Then I questioned him for half an hour. He wasn&rsquo;t budging. This guy was good. But I noticed something in his criminal pocket. A love letter from Stella Scoscoe. My dearest Joe, I&rsquo;ll love you forever. If we&rsquo;re ever separated, I&rsquo;ll always return to the old meat freezer from our youth. Always? That was tonight!

The year was December 17th, winter to be exact. Outside my office it was a wet, dark afternoon—the t...

Film Noir

Bad Cop: We have your fingerprints on the gun, the doorknob, and the victim, punk.
Good Cop: Hey just wanted to let you know we do not have your fingerprints on the gun, the doorknob, or the victim.
&lsquo;By the Book&rsquo; Cop: Goddammit I&rsquo;m getting this man an attorney.
Loose-Cannon Cop: He can have three attorneys for all I care. I&rsquo;ll still walk his ass straight to the slammer.
Old&ndash;Pete Cop: Back in my day we didn&rsquo;t have slammers, we just had one big hole.
&lsquo;Just tryna make it to the end of the day&rsquo; Cop: Look, I&rsquo;m just tryna make it to the end of the day, can we&mdash;
&lsquo;Throwing his Coffee&rsquo; Cop: Wait, you let this princess on the team?
Commissioner Cop: I know he is but he&rsquo;s the best we&rsquo;ve got.
&lsquo;I Know He is But He&rsquo;s the Best We&rsquo;ve Got&rsquo; Cop: (lights cigarette)
&lsquo;The New Guy&rsquo; Cop: I don&rsquo;t like coffee yet.
Horse-Mounted Cop: (rides in on horse) Well I just, hRode in from the pasture and&ndash; I do declayuh,&mdash;
FBI-Mole Cop: Man I would haate it if someone from the FBI were here right now.
Confused Cop: I&rsquo;m a cop. You&rsquo;re a cop. He&rsquo;s a cop.
Childrens&rsquo; Book Cop: I&rsquo;m a cop. You&rsquo;re a cop. He&rsquo;s a cop. Bwee-oop bwee-oop bwee-oop.
Recently Divorced Cop: You can rat out your partner and walk outta hear right now but you can&rsquo;t have the goddamn dog!
Drug Dog: (dog noises)
Undercover Cop: Eyy Billy. Don&rsquo;t you worry, long as we keep talkin&rsquo; into these wires ain&rsquo;t nothing these cops can do to nobody (zips up hoodie).
Jelly-Donut Cop: Mmm om homf nom nop om nop clop.
Mall Cop: Hey, Jelly-Donut Cop they have better donuts at Cinnabon.
Jelly-Donut Cop: Wait, what the hell did you just call me?
Juggling Guns Cop: Man I sure hope these stop going off soon.
&lsquo;Lost the Key to His Handcuffs&rsquo; Cop: (internally) Just play it cool. Hold still, and no one will notice your head handcuffed to your leg.
&lsquo;Why Are There So Many Fucking Cops?&rsquo; Cop: Hey I gotta question why are there so many fucking cops?
Lonely Cop: I don&rsquo;t know, but we better get some more cops in here.
Billy the Murderer: I did it.
&lsquo;Just tryna make it to the end of the day&rsquo; Cop: Look, I&rsquo;m just tryna make it to the end of the day&mdash;
SWAT-Team Cop: (crashes through window) Oh God, I killed the new guy.
Jelly-Donut Cop: Yum.

Bad Cop: We have your fingerprints on the gun, the doorknob, and the victim, punk.
Good Cop: Hey ju...

Good Cop, Bad Cop, Jelly-Donut Cop

Some people have a fairy godmother. Klugg is my swamp monster god-uncle.
Klugg can&rsquo;t fly like other fairies but he claims to be fifty percent crawdad. I think that&rsquo;s a lie &mdash; he looks more like eighty.
When I wished for a fairy on my ninth birthday I got Klugg: The Bayou Swamp King. He climbed out a dumpster behind Mama&rsquo;s favorite Red Lobster and followed me home, running. He spent the first month asking whether I could make his room (my closet) any more dark and damp. He spent the second month asking if his room (my room) could be Big Pig Central.
Jambalaya, fan boats, molting parties, voodoo teeth, spicy, Mardi Gras Katrina BBQ, and Klugg. Each of them in my backyard. &ldquo;Hey, baby boo. That a sweet mump mump.&rdquo; &mdash; Klugg
Klugg&rsquo;s always granting me wishes for mud tubs I don&rsquo;t want. He gets all happy and wooshy when I say he can use it cause it&rsquo;s the one thing that helps his &ldquo;Gumbo Skin.&rdquo; Gumbo Skin happens when your shrimps eat too many taters off your tummy. It&rsquo;s not contagious, so Klugg lets me touch.
Klugg&rsquo;s swamp buds are Guzer, Rub Rub, Ying Bing, and Rooff, and Hetler. Those old boys know how to chug bead buckets. Klugg&rsquo;s best at it cause when he chugs beads it&rsquo;s like &ldquo;Oh mama, Klugg chug like goose milk yum.&rdquo;
And one day, just as grungle as he appeared, Klugg was gone. I miss him sometimes. He left all his stuff &mdash; Skum Scoop, swamp bud Hetler, Bone Rug, The Unsolvable Rat Tail Knot, Oyster pie, Bird Sex: the film, nice frogs, Gumbo Skin and all.

Some people have a fairy godmother. Klugg is my swamp monster god-uncle.
Klugg can’t fly like other...

My Fairy

Even though it&rsquo;s harder than ever before to be a woman, it&rsquo;s easier than ever to be a feminist. Back in the olden times, being a feminist meant not wearing any makeup, not shaving your legs, and shaving your head in order to be more equal to bald men. Nowadays, it is also feminist to blow all the guys on the basketball team (I am one away from achieving this). People shouldn&rsquo;t call me a slut, but if they did, that would be fine with me, because of my feminism.
One big achievement of my feminism is that men can be feminist too. Let&rsquo;s do a little thought experiment. Imagine a feminist. Did you imagine a man, or a woman? A woman, right? No. The feminist I was thinking of was a gay man. That&rsquo;s fucked up. Men can be feminist in lots of ways, such as being gay, working as a male nurse, and saying thank you after sex.
Another part of my feminism is &ldquo;leaning in,&rdquo; and the main tenet of &ldquo;lean in&rdquo; feminism is leaning in so hard to the boardroom table at a business meetings that you repeatedly bash your head into the table, rendering yourself unconscious and allowing the men to have the meeting as planned without hearing the voices of women.
True, corporate feminism only benefits a small, select group of women, but this is not a problem if you are a part of that group. You should demand to be treated so much like a man that you are then able to subjugate other women. As such, if you choose to have children, you should forget about their existences as soon as they are born and pass them off to a female caretaker of lower social status than yourself. Try and remember your children&rsquo;s names at least until they&rsquo;re seventeen years old, so that you can give their names to admissions officers when you&rsquo;re making the large donation that will assure them a spot at an Ivy League college.
Maybe my feminism doesn&rsquo;t sound so great. But just remember, it is great. And even if it was not, it&rsquo;s the best that I have, and also gender is made-up concept which does nothing but limit the range of human possibilities, and also all theoretical discussions are irrelevant and futile given that we live in a Matrix-style virtual reality in which certain unknowable godlike forces determine what we take to meaningful or even existent at all.
This being said, the key platform of my feminism is these 100 issues:
Emergency contraception. Plan B should be renamed Plan A.
Body image. Women can come in all shapes and sizes, like pear, apple, pineapple, inverted triangle, helix, small square, tallpointy, backwards, sconce, scone, moan, pone, and those are all of them. Advertisements set an unrealistic standard for women&rsquo;s bodies; for example, when I see an ad for a sleek car or a silver watch, I think to myself, &ldquo;There&rsquo;s no way I could look like that.&rdquo;
Telling women to smile. Whenever I get my photo taken, people tell me to smile. As a feminist statement, I always stick my tongue out and pretend to choke to death as the picture is being taken. This ruins every photo that I am in. It&rsquo;s so unfair that there aren&rsquo;t any photos of me in which I am not pretending to choke and die.
Sex. Sex is power, power is electricity, electricity is when a charge is placed in a non-zero electric field whose magnitude is given by Coulomb&rsquo;s Law, and&hellip; I lost track of where this was going.
Representation. It is so important to see women around you. However, I almost never see other women, especially when I&rsquo;m standing alone in the middle of a large cornfield. Why are all scarecrows men? When I turn on the television, I never see women; I only see static, because I haven&rsquo;t paid my cable bill in months. However, I can tell from reading old copies of TV Guide from 2002 that women are only offered certain roles: the hot sidekick, the hot love interest, the hot crazy girl, the hot nerd, and the hot old crone feeding pigeons on the street who appears in the background in one scene. Women should be able to play whatever roles they want, especially if that role is stuffing their clothing with hay and standing in a field for 24 hours a day to ward off birds.
Abortion. I know that as a feminist, I&rsquo;m supposed to support abortion and get as many abortions as possible. But do I have to like it? To be honest, I feel kind of weird about impregnating myself every month, only to get an abortion the next. Six abortions a year (seven on a leap year) takes a toll.
Mansplaining. Whenever I go to Planned Parenthood to get my free abortion, as was promised to me by the Founding Mothers, the male doctors always says, &ldquo;I think you are getting too many abortions.&rdquo; Then when I plug my ears and scream unceasingly for as long as I can, the male doctors are always interrupting me, saying, &ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; and &ldquo;Hold her down!&rdquo;
Gendered toys. Why do boys and girls need different toys? When I was a kid, my brothers all got chemistry sets for Christmas, while I got no gifts and instead fashioned a small doll out of loose hairs I gathered from the floor. It kept falling apart. I think anyone could play with that toy, and grow up to be the accomplished chemist I am today.
Gendered soaps. Why do men and women need different soaps? When I was a kid, the only soap I used was thrown to me in a bucket as I was kept in a very deep hole.
Wage gap. Every time I make $1, I immediately deposit it at the bank. After I hand it over, I have no idea where it goes, and I have no money.
I know that we said there were 100 issues facing women today and I have named 10, but this, in itself, is an important lesson about being a woman: always exaggerate how bad it is, or else no one will listen to you

Even though it’s harder than ever before to be a woman, it’s easier than ever to be a feminist. Back...

My Feminism

Some things are less rare than you think.
Winning the Lottery
My friend Rigley won the lottery yesterday. Technically it was my ticket but even more technically Rigley beat me up and took it.
Pitching a Perfect Game
It was the first game of the season, and I felt good. I stood on the mound confidently, ready to throw a killer first pitch to my best friend, Rigley. I launched a curveball into the bottom of the strike zone. Rigley hit a home run and went on to pitch a perfect game.
Lightning Striking Twice
It&rsquo;s actually pretty common for lightning to strike the same place twice. Rigley told me that it&rsquo;s happened to him like a million times and that&rsquo;s how come I can park in handicap spots when he&rsquo;s in the car.
Early-Onset Alzheimer&rsquo;s
Against all odds, I have this.
Love at First Sight
Man, Rigley loves telling this one. So I&rsquo;m at a restaurant with my girlfriend, Jess, when Rigley walks by on the street. He sees Jess and thinks &ldquo;I&rsquo;m in love with her.&rdquo; Long story short, they go to town in the bathroom while I&rsquo;m trying to pee and nothing&rsquo;s really coming out. You da man Rigs!

Some things are less rare than you think.
Winning the Lottery
My friend Rigley won the lottery yes...

Rare

<ul>
<li>And that is how Denta-Firm is changing the game, as the world&rsquo;s first ever blood-free toothpaste for women. I&rsquo;ll now take some questions. You, sir.</li>
<li>Yeah, it sounded like you just said &ldquo;blood-free,&rdquo; which you hadn&rsquo;t mentioned at any other point in your speech before?</li>
<li>That is correct.</li>
<li>So are you saying Denta-Firm is the first blood-free toothpaste for women, or like, the first blood-free toothpaste ever?</li>
<li>Our scientists were the first ever to synthesize toothpaste without using human blood, and we&rsquo;re set on marketing our product toward women</li>
<li>&hellip;</li>
<li>&hellip;</li>
<li>And are people okay with that? Did everyone know about this but me?!</li>
<li>Please, sir&hellip;</li>
<li>(old man in the back, rising up) Ahem! My fellow peers. I, too, was troubled by this revelation that toothpaste is made of blood. But as it is a necessity for maintaining one&rsquo;s good hygiene, and I refuse to purchase toothpaste for women, I will continue my use of regular toothpaste, while respectfully purchasing Denta-Firm for my wife and effeminate son. Thank you for all your work, doctor.</li>
<li>(applause)</li>
</ul>


And that is how Denta-Firm is changing the game, as the world’s first ever blood-free toothpaste f...

Keynote Speech

I&rsquo;m going to be honest with you, reader&mdash;my sophomore fall didn&rsquo;t get off to a great start. Sure, I had a few things going for me: a n+1 suite in Adams (the &ldquo;Adams of the Quad,&rdquo; which is Pfoho), an early admit offer from the Porcellian Club, the healthy sex life I had maintained since middle school, and a regular brain with no learning disorders. But still, I felt like there was a gaping void in my life that could never be fulfilled, no matter how many drugs I took away from friends who were trying to stay clean or how much meaningless sex I saved women from by being an incredibly selfless lover.
Suffice it to say, I was depressed, and since suicide wasn&rsquo;t an option given my fear of death, I knew I needed to find some kind of cure. So in order to overcome my death-phobia, I turned to Eastern philosophy, but found the concept of reincarnation even scarier than the already extremely terrifying idea of going to heaven. Therefore, without the comforting certainty that death would be the end of all existence, suicide remained something I could only watch Pennsylvania State Treasurer Budd Dwyer (R-PA) do on YouTube or in the hundreds of flip book animations I had drawn.
So I began to see a psychiatrist, and after a few months of going out with her, I made an appointment with an analyst. While some people may dislike the idea of paying $200 to lie on a leather couch while some quack with a clipboard administers electroconvulsive shocks to your body whenever Dr. Milgram orders him to do so, I actually found it pretty helpful. For example, when I told my analyst about my fantasy where I walk into Sanders Theater with a fully loaded AR-15 to deliver a lecture on how to disarm an active shooter, he said it was just an expression of my resentment towards my father, who, back in the 80s, became the first &ldquo;good guy with a gun&rdquo; after he shot John Lennon.
Eventually, my analyst and I decided that it would do me some good to take a break and just get away from it all, so I applied to study abroad in Paris. But boy, did I feel stupid when I found out that, instead of applying to study in Paris, France, I had accidentally joined an ISIS training camp in Abu Kamal, Syria. Luckily, after only a week of training, I was sent home when a camp counselor caught me drawing a cartoon of Muhammad getting his dick sucked while I was in the girls&rsquo; dormitory after lights out.
As luck would have it, my flight back to Boston was hijacked by terrorists, who wanted to replicate the horrors of 9/11 by crashing the plane into a field in Pennsylvania. Luckily, I was able to overpower the terrorists and redirect the flight into the Pentagon. Anyways, here are some photos of when I went to Cleveland six years ago.

I’m going to be honest with you, reader—my sophomore fall didn’t get off to a great start. Sure, I h...

Once in a Blue Moon #.css-1xlpnei{margin:0px -15px 0px 6px;width:11px;vertical-align:-14px;}

Once in a Blue Moon #