Normally I'd have a full-fledged comedy update here, but due to some very unpleasant IRL (in real life) drama, my comedy well is temporarily dry. In fact, as of now, it's jammed with a deadly clot of airline peanuts and your momma jokes. In honor of my failure, I have no choice but to call upon the body of Carl Weathers once more. Not even Craig T. Nelson can keep his hands off!
But anyway, early yesterday Lowtax let me know we'd be doing behind the scenes stories and personal updates on our assigned writing day in the Daily Dirt. In a feature like that I might tell you where my inspiration comes from (Spoiler warning: it usually involves looking at a clock and yelling "I have to write an update several hours ago!"). But anyway, I went ahead and wrote some notes ahead of time yesterday, which I'll go ahead and link to now. Again, sorry for coming up short folks. I'll be back next week with the first of a hilarious 8-part update containing nothing but jokes about vegetative states made easily digestible through the use of a bullet point feeding tube.
Sir Mix-a-Lot's classic follow up to "Baby Got Back" has serious unintended consequences.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
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