Rapper Eminem has a new album coming out. His sixth studio album is set to be released May 19. Two tracks have been leaked – “Crack A Bottle” and “We Made You.”
I love Eminem’s music. But I’m not sure the music industry has had an artist with bigger Mommy issues since Elvis.
Her name is Debbie Nelson. She’s 54. In 2002, Eminem released the 2002 smash hit “Without Me” where he yells, “Fuck you, Debbie!” Slim Shady followed that up with the 2002 smash hit “Cleanin’ Out My Closet.” It’s full of knocks against his mother.
Now, I’m sure to his throng of teen followers, that struck a chord. But he’s 36 now. Who still complains about their parents in their latter 30s? You are not rapping then, you are whining. And can there be more of a death-sentence in the rap industry than to be labeled a momma’s boy?
So far, no reference to his mother yet on the first two tracks.
And another frequent target of Eminem’s lyrics? His ex-wife Kim Mathers? Shady, rap all day/all night about her. Knocking on the old lady never gets old.
In case you missed it, Kris Benson was the starting pitcher for the Texas Rangers in the home opener April 10 for the Detroit Tigers.
Benson, 34, is a journeyman pitcher who has been on four teams in eight years. He missed last year due to injury. But he’s hardly the star attraction anymore.
That’s his wife, Anna Benson. A former stripper who is full-time crazy.
Kris violated the No. 1 rule of athletes – hang out at the strip clubs, just leave the way you came in: single.
In interviews over the year, she’s told the media she wanted to have sex with her husband in every stadium and has done her husband in the Pittsburgh stadium, made over 30 porn tapes with her husband, she would fuck all of his teammates if Kris ever cheated on her and then filed for divorce in 2006 before rescinding the request.
Smell that. It’s 100 % bona-fide crazy you got there on your hands, Kris.
Anna had a website a few years ago that played Kanye West’s song “Golddigger” as the theme song. Benson signed a $27 million contract as a rookie and didn’t sign a pre-nup. So, Kris, we leave you with the artist your wife knows well – Kanye West – and some lyrics to his best song – Golddigger.
“If you ain’t no punk holla’ we want pre-nup WE WANT PRE-NUP!, yeah It’s something that you need to have ‘Cause when she leave yo’ ass she gon’ leave with half”
“Hi, 911? Yes, I am in Kmart and their clothes don’t fit and AHHHH!”” ZZZZ-AAAAAA-PPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!
IN THE NEWS – A Texas woman called 911 on April 6 to report she didn’t get as much shrimp as she wanted in her fried rice at a Texas restaurant.
Haltom City police on Tuesday released the taped emergency call, in which the customer is heard telling the dispatcher, “to get a police officer up here, what has to happen?”
The customer also says: “He didn’t even put extra shrimp in there.”
The upset customer had left the Fort Worth-area restaurant when an officer arrived that afternoon.
COMMENTARY – Unfortunately, the 911 call has become to idiots when 7-Eleven is to potheads – a meeting place.
On April 1, a woman called 911 in Florida because the electrical system in her car failed and then apologized when told by dispatchers to open the lock manually.
On March 3, another Florida woman called 911 three times to report an “emergency.” Latreasa Goodman, 27, called police to complain that a cashier–citing a McDonald’s all sales are final policy–would not give her a refund. When cops responded, she said, “This is an emergency. If I would have known they didn’t have McNuggets, I wouldn’t have given my money, and now she wants to give me a McDouble, but I don’t want one.”
Oh, I got a McDouble for you. The McDouble kick in the ass for being galactically retarded.
The solution is simple.
Everyone gets one jackass 911 call. The overwhelming majority of us will never use it.
But if you do, you get no more lifelines. Instead, once you call 911 the next time, you get 500 volts the moment you hit that final “1” button.
So, your car slid off the side of a road and into the ravine and water is gushing in through the windows and you can’t open the door?
But you called 911 about three months ago because Burger King won’t make your hamburger the way you wanted (as a California woman did in 2005), then feel free to call again all you want.
Zap! Zap! Zap! Zap!
MSNBC reported late Sunday night, according to friends, Farrah Fawcett is expected to die soon from anal cancer.
And although this blog’s focus is on the humorous, the 62-year-old actress has touched many of my generation like none other.
To understand what Farrah means to the 40-something man, you have to start with how society has changed. There was no YouTube, no sex tapes, no Internet, no VCRs.
There were just moments of TV when advertisers put a hot chick on TV and you stopped whatever the hell you were doing and watched.
Way before Charlie’s Angels, there was the Noxema commercial. That’s when I first saw her. It was played during the highlights of a Notre Dame football game on Sunday morning.
She sang, “Hey, hey, my name is creamy. Jump on my trolly I got something to say.” I was stunned at first by her beauty. But deep down, I knew those lyrics had some hidden filthy, dirty meaning to it. But I was probably 9 at the time, so what the fuck did I know?
So every Sunday morning, I would sit in front of the TV downstairs and watch the Notre Dame highlights.
My dad thought I was just a big football fan. Bullshit. I had to see this chick again. And you know what, I did become a Notre Dame football fan.
And then, a couple years later, came the “poster.” The one where she’s sitting in a one-piece bathing suit in what appears to be a very cold room because the headlights are on!
It was 1976. I was 11 and in 5th grade. I brought the infamous poster to my fifth grade class. My teacher Mrs. Rose – who was a cross between Sandy Duncan and Walter Matthau – took it from me and ripped it up in front of the whole class. I knew then the impact Farrah had on other women.
And on me.
But Farrah quickly became outdated.
Her replacement on Charlie’s Angels was Cheryl Ladd – who was younger and had a better body. (Any man in his 40s probably didn’t watch more than five episodes of Charlie’s Angels, but dammit, we saw damn near every opening credits when Cheryl jumped aboard that boat in her bikini.)
And Farrah never could cash in on crazy like Paris Hilton or Britney Spears – although I don’t doubt Farrah was as crazy as a shithouse rat. Just look at the David Letterman interview.
So sometime soon, Farrah Fawcett will die.
And with her goes a special part of my youth – a sexual awakening that she left her stamp upon – back in a time when all that mattered was seeing that commercial and seeing that girl again.
So, today we all mourn the passing of a sex symbol. Actually, The Sex Symbol, to any man in his mid to late 40s.
Ciao, Farrah. I suspect you’ll have no problem getting through the Pearly Gates. Just tell St. Peter you’re the chick on God’s wall.
You may know him as Michael Vick, the fallen-from-grace NFL superstar who played for the Atlanta Falcons and made millions before ending up in prison for running a brutal dog-fighting business.
(However, certain chicks know him as Ron Mexico in 2005. That’s the name he gave them while he nailed them and took off. Turns out, Mr. Mexico has Herpes and never told these women, who filed suit. Vick’s attorney, Mr. Latin America, couldn’t be reached for comment.)
Now, Vick is due out of prison and is going to start his life over. He plans to go back to the NFL. Until then, he’s line up a $10 an hour construction job. (That’s a keen little insight as to what value athletes have outside the sports world).
But before that, Vick filed for bankuptcy, saying he had $20 million in debt and only $16 million in value. Vick is currently banned from playing in the NFL.
The judge rejected Vick’s request. Seems Mr. Mexico/Vick has a funny idea of what “bankruptcy” means. Vick wanted to keep both of his Virginia homes and three cars.
One of his homes was listed in 2007 at $4.5 million. The home has seven bedrooms, 8.5 baths, is on a lake on 1.5 acres. The monthly payment is $23,000.
All on his $10 a hour construction job.
I’m with the judge here. Let’s try again, Michael.
Pamela Anderson, Erika Eleniak, Nicole Eggert, Heather Locklear, Brooke Shields, Nicolette Sheridan, Beverly D’Angelo (back when he was still doing Happy Days) and throw in countless Playboy bunnies. In fact, Hef’s peeps had to warn him to stop sniffing around The Man’s pieces of ass.
Memo to Bret Michaels: Dude. Pushing 50 and still can’t find a piece of ass? Genius! Because otherwise the Lincoln County Fair awaits you.
Because that would be the cure.
It’s the biggest collection of skanks since Charlie Sheen’s first bachelor party.
And the list goes on.