Weird Al’s first hit song was in 1982... He won a Grammy in 2015. I realize it’s parody... but is he the greatest musician over the past 35 years? It’s weird to me that’s NOT a weird thought.


He’s not the greatest musician of the past 35 years. I say that as someone who grew up singing “Eat It” in his grandma’s living room during cocktail parties, to polite applause from old drunk people. Weird Al is an institution and I’ll always love him for UHF, and for Al TV, and for the Naked Gun cameo, and for “One More Minute,” and for his narration of Peter and The Wolf. He’s had a remarkably durable career.

But I don’t think you’re picking any of his shit to be your desert island album, you know what I mean? If you actually did prefer that over serious, actual music, I would have a lot of questions for you. Sometimes Weird Al can be extremely surreal and funny, and other times his parodies play out like an old Frank Rich op-ed column, where two current cultural things are glommed together for no good reason. Like this song. That kind of jam doesn’t exactly have a long shelf life.


I think Weird Al deserves recognition of some sort for being Weird Al. There’s a petition to put him in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, but that Hall of Fame sucks. Instead, he should build a Hall of Al, and put it in Lynwood, and half the museum can be a pointed sanitization of the actual Rock Hall, and the other half can be dedicated to disposable jokes about, like, Gilligan’s Island or some shit. And then they can pipe in ironic polka that’s actually just bad polka.


What do you do with the friend who won’t tell you why he wants to talk to you? I have a friend who will call, but won’t leave a message. He also will not send a text to say “I called because…” Sometimes, I might be at work the next day and I’ll get an email that just says “Call me”. When I explain the reasons why I’m not doing that, I’ll get a reply that says “Okay, well call me tonight then.” Is this person a moron, or am I the one with the problem because I find this highly annoying?


No, you’re in the right here. I do not like it when people are cagey about that kind of shit. Someone better be fucking dead if you can’t tell me what you need to talk to me about. If you are teasing out a phone call like it’s the prelude to a breakup, you need to learn some goddamn manners. This is especially true in 2018, when there’s never any reason to talk on the phone UNLESS someone is dead. Like if someone at work goes, “Hey, can you hop on the phone for a second?” I assume that I’m about to be fired and that the office burned to the ground. Usually it’s only the latter, but still.

That’s why I always ask people “why?” when they want to talk on the phone but are cryptic about it. Is everything okay? What exactly is this about? Did someone find out about me stalking Tom Hulce? I don’t wanna take this call if it’s gonna make me personally uncomfortable. I have spent my entire life avoiding Serious Talks with people, and I plan on keeping it that way.


Sometimes my dad will call and he’ll be like, “Do you have a second?” And that’s when I freak the hell out. Oh God, Dad just lost his arm cleaning the fucking gutters. But no, no it turns out he wants to coordinate calendars. It’s a very stressful way to begin a phone call. If you’re calling me on the phone, I want a pre-memo outlining the topics to be discussed, and I want it notarized. I also want assurances that no one is dead. Because whenever someone dies, what’s the first thing their loved ones say? “We knew it the second the phone rang.” The phone is the goddamn reaper, man! Keep me out of it.


I am a 28-year-old male who only weighs 145 lbs. For the past three weeks, in an effort to actually gain muscle and put my workouts to use, I have been eating a whole rotisserie chicken at work throughout the day. It was going smoothly until some coworker came to ask me a question whilst savagely eating a chicken leg. Which got me thinking, was it ever socially acceptable to bring a whole chicken into work in the first place?


Probably not. But you know what? Fuck everyone else. The average work kitchen is a goddamn fiasco, anyway. The sink is rancid. The coffeepot is dirty. The fridge is always overstuffed with Styrofoam leftover containers, Ted’s carton of upscale half and half, open cans of soup, giant containers with half an ounce of salad in them, half jugs of kombucha, and crusted-over bottles of ranch. Everything is covered in testy Post-its and nothing is free for you to take. I don’t think your co-workers have much of a right to sneer at a whole chicken, particularly if it’s a prescription chicken.

They’re probably just BUTTHURTING that you get to house a whole chicken every day. I know I would be. I’m exceedingly jealous of you right now, Kevin. I have never, in my life, been in a position where I desperately need to gain weight. I can’t even imagine that kind of freedom. I read about athletes bulking up by drinking pancake milkshakes nine times a day and my brain can’t comprehend it. I’d bring THREE chickens to work if that were ever the case. I’ve said it before, but grocery store rotisserie chickens are a miracle. You pay $5 and BOOM! You got a succulent, whole chicken ready to pick at. Nothing brings me more joy than breaking down one of those fuckers for a chicken salad. I take nibbles from the legs and the back and neck and the butt. It’s a miracle from God, I tell you!


Anyway, eat your chicken and live your truth.


Could any current WC team beat any Champions League teams? It seems to me that the synergy/experience of playing together built up by the top CL teams, e.g. Man City, Real, Liverpool, would be able to overcome any stacked WC team, e.g. Brazil.


I checked with one of our resident Soccer Knowers, Billy Haisley, and he says no World Cup team could beat a Champions League Team because of the quality of depth and the inherent advantages of playing together week-to-week. And that all makes sense, only the World Cup is now RUINED for me. Thanks a lot, you two. The only goddamn sporting event on TV this month and you’ve reduced it to a round robin of MAC teams. God dammit. As an American, I only want to see THE BEST.

(I will actively watch all of a Browns/Bills Thursday Night game.)


Why is buying a car the most soul-sucking charade in normal life, and why hasn’t the process been fixed? I stopped by a big professional car lot (knowing full well it was a mistake) just to talk with a guy about a cheap or used car. They took my keys to appraise my trade in and the guy insisted on trying to sell me a $35,000 car that I didn’t want and couldn’t afford. I can’t believe that the car industry is still rockin’ this sales process. It even happens with the new no-haggle pricing places are rolling out.


You’re not gonna believe this, but it turns out that the entire car purchasing process is dictated by arcane franchising rules that were established long before the advent of the internet and essentially forbid you from buying any new car (apart from Tesla and a few others) online. You MUST go through a dealer to finish off the purchase, and you must bear the exorbitant markup of doing so. This allows the dealer to keep a death grip on their respective sales regions, and it means that car manufacturers can continually pump out shitty cars on the assembly line—even painting them colors you probably don’t want!—without much care as to whether or not people are interested in buying them. You can do all the legwork you want online, but chances are the prices for each model are gonna be fairly close, and you’re not gonna drive three states over to pay $200 less for a Honda Civic, or to get a car that’s blue instead of white. Everything is designed to make you compromise with what you originally wanted for yourself.

Personally, I can tell you that when I step into a car dealership, I wanna fucking die. All I want to do is leave, and that factors into the compromise. I could go to 100 dealers to get the exact car I want at the absolute lowest price, but that’s a fate worse than death. The process is designed to exhaust you and sap all your free time, to break down your defenses so that you’re a little less picky about committing to a $30,000 piece of shit. You wanted a red Hyundai Santa Fe, and suddenly you’re deliberating over whether or not to buy a black Toyota RAV4 because this is the last one left on the lot!


Obviously, the way to fix this is to destroy the dealer model and just sell cars direct to the consumer, offering them hassle-free test drives locally and then allowing them to custom order whatever model they like online. You know what? I’ll do it. Give me $50 billion in seed money and I will DISRUPT the car buying industry and sell you quality cars at a quality price. Then I’ll become a billionaire, get my feelings hurt online, and become a fascist. YOU PEOPLE DON’T APPRECIATE JUST HOW MUCH I CHANGED THE WORLD.

Email of the week!


Back in the summer of 2010, I was working at a Panera in my Minnesota college town to help pay for school. The job sucked and one of my bosses was a total dickhead (mid 30's guy who was pissed about his marriage and had a DUI from clipping a cyclist with his side-view mirror)

I was working one night, and had just finished my break. I clocked back in and went to take a shit on the clock, because that’s what you do when you work in a menial job where no one gives a shit. I go to take what I think is a large poop, but turns out to just be nothing but a fart; I go back to resuming my duties washing the dishes that evening

After about 5 minutes of dish washing, I feel a fart coming up. I let it fly, and immediately feel liquid shit filling up my underwear. I realize that I need to get to the bathroom posthaste. It was about 7pm, so thankfully no one in the place sees me power-waddle out of the bathroom with liquid shit running down the inside of my right leg. I make it to the bathroom just before the stream of shit hits my sock, and begin wiping. It took about 5 minutes to clean up the mess, but I had to throw away my underwear as it was soiled through and through

Not knowing what to do, I go to my aforementioned boss and said “Dan, I don’t know how to say this any other way, but I just shit myself.” He understandably stared at me with a dumbfounded look for about 5 seconds, and declares “Well, you just won the go-home lottery. Go home”

I’m still cautious when I fart to this day.

As anyone would be.