Occasionally I write something, and it comes out very naturally and it seems funny to me. Sometimes I write something and it comes out slowly and painfully, but at least I can see what joke I'm aiming for. Then sometimes I write something and I don't even know what the fuck I'm writing or where the idea came from. This was one of those times.
A few others of these times were:
None of these rank anywhere near the best of my stuff, but they certainly are the ones I look back on and think "Jesus, where did that idea even come from anyway?" This week joins that rank I think.
In terms of Italy news, I saw Justin Timberlake in the Sistine Chapel. When I tell people this, they often respond as though my boring trip to the Sistine Chapel was saved by at least having seen Justin Timberlake. People are weird.
I understand that sometimes "Cocktail Bar" is too long a phrase to put up on a sign. But shortening this phrase to a large neon pink sign advertising your "Cock Bar" is not the best solution. Thank you.
Are you concerned that you may be a character trapped in a Tom Waits song? Be smart and learn the warning signs before it's too late. Also, it's too late. It has always been too late.
I'm haunted by a recurring vision of a skeleton flipping me off. To avoid seeing this terrifying image in bumper sticker form, I pay someone with a blank bumper to drive in front of me at all times.
The Daily Dirt serves as a column for all Something Awful frontpage writers to write about, well, whatever they feel like putting into the Daily Dirt!