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.
Your lair. Maybe you lure victims to it, maybe you hide in it between killings, or maybe you haunt it 24/7 because you’re tragically confined by a curse. Whatever the situation, for most of us monsters, a living/un-living space is an important part of our identities. In this column, Monstergeddon award winners share their lair tips and techniques!
Works great on my child, who hasn't barked at all for as long as she's worn the apparatus. When she turns three, we will remove it for a trial period.
The famed gonzo otaku journalist writes about the death of gaming culture in 2014.
Try not to break your console while I try not to break my cyber brain.
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!