Jesus, this is a bit late again. Well, sue me. I dare you to. Go ahead. Find a lawyer, put a fat freaking check in his hand, and sue me for all I’m worth. WHICH IS NOTHING. I have no savings, no property, whatever small amount of stocks I had is now about as financially sound as the US auto industry. So go ahead. Sue me for posting this late, and let’s see what happens. Oh, you’ll garnish my wages? Fine. It’s not like I can buy anything anyway with the meager sum I earn, so go nuts. All I have are my TV and Drake’s delightful conversation. And after he dies in a freak accident a few weeks from now, I won’t even have that. Sigh.

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Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeel, here’s what happened. We had this conversation last week, the previous week, see, and I was supposed to put it together, and see, I got my face ripped of in an uncalculated accident at a skeleton brothel. It was impossible to know that ribs are laser sharp. I’ve only ever seen skeletons in cartoons on TV. Regardless, I work a shitty temp job that saps my ability to live. Oh god, why can’t I have my face really ripped off by a sexual skeleton in order to end my enduring Earthly torment? Drake, help me, please, I’m fucking dying. Oh god, help me.

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Ah, another week of TV come and gone, and what do Drake and I have to show for it except the emptiness of our lives magnified to the size of giant dinosaurs and put on display for all the world to see. Marvel at the shells we have become! Eat the cancerous nothingness that gnaws at our very beings! Grow obese snacking on our self-loathing like crackers smeared with chocolate-flavored hatred!  But first, read what we had to say about some shows we watched…

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Hey jerks! Andy and Drake here again to nominally talk about what TV they saw during the previous week, although since we’re a bit behind, this means the previous previous week or in words that have been said by people: a fortnight aft. Follow within the following link to see what two people you don’t know had to say about The Simpsons, the VP debate and that new HBO cartoon with the guy.

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You know how in every age there’s always some naysayer crowing from out the highest turrets of the, uh, castle about how things used to be better and that our society is slowly sinking into the swamp of immorality and prurience? You know that guy, right? He dated my sister briefly a few years ago. Always carried a copy of Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra with him even though he never read it and didn’t really understand Nietzsche anyway? You know…yeah, that guy. Well, what if in spite of his douchiness, he was right? Not just in the conservative sense where, blinded by a nostalgia for slavery and the ability to freely beat your wife, you desperately wish to crawl back into your mommy’s uterus. But in the sense of human history charted on an incline plane. What if since the very beginning of time, things have just been slowly getting worse and worse? And what if some dipshit wrote a smirking column charting this decline instead of going out into the world and doing something about it? Well, wonder no more shitheads, for the answer to your pathetic lives is but a click away.
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Hi everyone; Andy here again. I’ve managed to find another one of those cross-dimensional entertainment columns, although I only happened upon this one by chance, and I’m running out of ideas on how I can acquire more. With the expenses my wife keeps charging – you know how women are with shopping! – I don’t know what I’m going to do. Do we really need food? Do we really have to pay our mortgage? I keep yelling at her for this stuff, and she belts me in the chops with a belt made of chopped liver. “Enjoy your dinner, dickhead,” she screams in a quiet tone. I’m growing desperate. See after I stole the last wormhole magazine from the laboratory, they improved their security. There’s a whole lot of extra procedures, and considering I’m just paid to smell atoms, well, I don’t really have the clearance. But I had to go drop the kids off at the pool and needed something to read, so I smashed a couple windows in the high-security wing, and stole another magazine from an alternate dimension. Apparently the rip in spacetime that we created opens every once and a while now and a copy of Siege Perilous, the one with the Binks Littlefoot column, falls out. The thing is, I wasn’t even thinking about selling this really. It’s just that my kids take forever when they’re getting out of the car at the pool, so I need something to keep me occupied, otherwise I just get furious and have to push the uncalled for rage down deep into my ever-deteriorating soul. But they love a swim day with their friends, so I must oblige. Anyway, National Lampoon said they’d take another one. I don’t think they give a shit really but are probably taking pity on me because my life is so worthless.

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