I appreciate you ladies showing up for me here today. It’s a gesture that bespeaks your great concern for your fellow man.

The signed football was a great thrill. I mean it. I’ll treasure it for my remaining days. That cheer you did for me? Moving stuff. Kinda catchy, too.

But it’s not exactly what I had in mind.

You see, when my parents put in the call to the Cowboys’ public relations department, they told team representatives that it would be my dying wish to get to meet the Dallas Cowboys’ cheerleading squad. Can’t quite say that was inaccurate, but they left out a few small but significant details.

Nurse, would you give us a minute?

Now, over in the chair in the corner you will find a riding crop and a couple bottles of high-end lotion. I don’t think I need to explain what comes next.

Hey! Where are you going? No! Wait! Stop! Hey!

John Challis got to meet Ben Roethlisberger and Mario Lemieux and they had sex with him! It’s not like I have AIDS. I have cancer. That’s the new, hip terminal disease! Didn’t you see that South Park?!

I’m so close to the end and I just want to get laid one last time.

I have sex toys!

Jay Cutler, ever the font of priggish wisdom, has agreed to lend an ear to some readers’ most pressing problems.

About a year ago I stumbled upon this hidden folder on my husband’s computer featuring pictures of amputees having sex with each other. All of the pictures featured sexual scenes where the stump figured prominently in the interaction and there were at least close to a hundred of them. Okay, perhaps stumbled was wrong because admittedly I was prying, as his behavior has made me a little suspicious of late. This discovery has really freaked me out. He’d been volunteering at the VA hospital for the last year and what before seemed like a really selfless act now comes off as a fulfillment of a sick fetish. I find it hard to be intimate with him knowing what is really going on in his mind. Is there a way I can discuss this with him without losing his trust?

-Severed Connection

Your husband is weird.

I followed with great interest the recent news that you had been diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. I myself suffer from the same condition. I’m on a fixed income so dealing with it is a real challenge. I spend about $115 a month on insulin and that accounts for about 15 percent of my income. Sometimes I have to cut my dosage from week to week to make sure I make it to the next paycheck. I know the risks, but it’s something I’ve learned to monitor and live with. Certainly someone of your status has been exposed to effective strategies and low-cost programs for dealing with the disorder. Any help would be greatly appreciated. And Go Broncos!

-Struggling with diabeing

Get more money.

Jay, this is your mother. Why haven’t you called? Yesterday was Mother’s Day, in case you forgot. And not just in humdrum Santa Claus, Indiana. Your father took me to a lovely brunch at the Holiday Inn and snuck out a few extra biscuits like old times. You loved those biscuits so, Jay. I know you didn’t like it when we made the big scene at that game last year, but it’s only because we were so overcome with emotion watching you play. You know how your father gets. Anyway, please give me a call. Because I’m your mother and I worry. You’ll never be too old for me. And I know you want these biscuits. Judging from photos, you are about due for dad to cut your hair again. WRITE SOON!

-Mama Cutler

Biscuits!

Tony Romo made a recent stop at Wrigley Field where he lead the crowd in a rendition of Take Me Out to the Ball Game. In a shocking twist that nobody saw coming, he was fucking terrible.

Clearly he’s trying to endear himself to the Simpson ladies. That performance showed the vocal range we’d expect from Jessica and all of the uncomfortable moments that make Ashley’s performances so special.

Harry Caray’s corpse has more charisma as of late.

video courtesy of Bugs and Cranks

(at a party)

Random Girl: Oh no! No one’s showing up to my party! Omigod, I planned this house party for weeks! I made guacamole, bought all kinds of booze, made sangria, and decorated the house in an island theme. I even strung up the chili pepper lights. And no one’s here! I feel so rejected. Where is everyone? I invited 200 people, for God’s sake. Someone’s gotta walk through that door.

(door flies open)

Matt: BRAH!

Nick: BRAH!

Matt: Brah, this party sucks, brah!

Nick: I knah, brah!

Random Girl: Omigod, thank GOD you guys showed up!

Matt: Brah, where’s the vodkah? I need some vodkah, brah!

Nick: And some cranberry juice to go with it, brah!

Random Girl: I have that! I have a handle of Skyy right here. I got it just for you two.

Matt: Nah, brah. Nah, brah. I need Ketel One, brah! (gets text message) Brah! I got a text message! Someone’s texting me, brah!

Nick: Who it is, brah?!

Matt: It’s Angelah, brah! She’s having a fiestah, brah! LET’S GO GET MOJITAHS, BRAH!

Nick: Brah, that’s a fucking plan, brah!

Matt: BRAH!

Nick: BRAH!

Random Girl: No, wait! You can’t leave! You just got here. Please. I’ll do anything to get you to stay.

Matt: Really, brah?

Nick: For shizzle, brah?

Random Girl: ANYTHING.

Matt: Brah, she’s good to gah, brah!

Nick: I nah, brah! She’s not wearing a brah, brah!

Matt: Brah, who gets to hook up with her first, brah?

Nick: Brah, brah. Gotta flip a coin, brah!

Matt: Brah, I don’t wanna be in her vaginah after you’ve been her vaginah, brah! That would make me gay, brah!

Nick: She needs a friend, brah!

Matt: Yeah, brah. You need to find a friend.

Random Girl: My friend Leona’s on her way over?

Matt: Is she hawt, brah? Because I only hook it with hot chicks, brah.

Random Girl: She’s pretty.

Matt: (outraged) Pretty? BRAAAHHH!!!

Nick: Nah nah, brah!

Random Girl: Wait, wait! I have another friend, Gina. She’s smoking hot.

Matt: Whatevah, brah. She battah show up, brah. (gets text message) Brah, I got another text message, brah!

Nick: BRAH!

Matt: Let’s wait for this Ginah while we figure out a plan, brah. This music sucks, brah!

Random Girl: What music do you like?

Matt: GAVIN DEGRAH, BRAH!

Nick: YEAH, WE WANT DEGRAH, BRAH!

Matt: Or Jason Mraz, brah. Mraz and I are brahs, brah.

Nick: But not as good a brah as me, right brah?

Matt: No way, brah! You’re my best brah, brah!

Random Girl: Okay, I’ll change the music.

Matt: And order some food, brah! And get an ice luge in here, brah! I want some Fiah watah, brah! And get some ATV’s in here, brah!

Random Girl: Okay, I’ll order it all now (orders it all). Hey, where are you guys going? I just threw down $5,000 for that stuff you wanted.

Matt: Gotta gah, brah!

Nick: Yeah, brah! We’re gonnah go to Vegas and hit a casinah, brah! C’mon brah, let’s hop in my Carerrah, brah!

Random Girl: I can’t believe this! You two are just a couple flaky, vacuous douchebags!

Matt: Konichiwah, brah!

Random Girl: This is the worst night of my life.

Nick: BRAH!

Matt: BRAH!

This is Casie. Casie was your girlfriend for 18 months. Despite her flawlessly toned body and affinity for making love on top of dryers, Casie put you through absolute Hell on earth. Seriously, dude. She was certifiably insane. She told you she went to Dartmouth, when in fact she attended New England College. And when you checked the Dartmouth directory and couldn’t find her name, she got mad at you for “spying on her”. Then she kicked you in the chest.

She claimed to have been best friends with Nicole Eggert, but you couldn’t verify it. She told you she worked at Christie’s Auction House, but building security had no record of her ever being an employee. One time, you stepped on her foot by accident in the middle of a crosswalk, causing her to argue with you for ten minutes WITHOUT FINISHING CROSSING THE STREET. She had an invisible cat named “Ollie”. Sometimes she talked in a little kiddie voice. You had no clue why.

She called you fat. She broke down in tears once because you got a haircut she didn’t care for. She was also an anti-Semite. One time she met one of your buddies, then after he left the room, she asked in exasperation, “God, are ALL your friends Jewish?” She loved talking about how much richer her ex-boyfriend was compared to you. She demanded you get a job in finance. She booked restaurant reservations at four-star restaurants you couldn’t possibly afford, then made you take her anyway.

One night, she woke you up at 3AM to tell you how much she hated your family. That was the last straw. You got out of bed, put on your clothes, and started to leave the apartment. She grabbed your arm and tried to restrain you from leaving. You shook her off, running down the stairs to catch a cab. And on that cab ride home, you exhaled. You were free. You knew this was it. No amount of make-up sex would draw you back this time. You knew you would never see her again, and you didn’t. It was the best you felt in ages.

Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, you wonder if she was ever named Casie to begin with.

As you know, MTV doesn’t play videos anymore. They air shows like “The Hills,” which is half an hour long and has three lines of dialogue. Bill Simmons thinks it’s comic genius. That fact that Music Television is now 100% music-free, combined with the slow death of the music industry due to file-sharing, has all but ended the existence of music videos as an art form. You may still get the occasional big-name artist dumb enough to produce a $500,000 music video that comes out of his own future royalties (read the contract, Kanye), but those are few and far in between.

The Golden Age Of The Video has all but passed us by. And that makes me said, because music videos have long been an excellent source of hearty spank bank material for yours truly. That Big Boi sure knows his way around a big phat azz. A true humanitarian, for sure.

Videos used to be safe haven for chicks who were too untalented to be real actresses but hot enough to deserve camera time of some sort. We have put legions of smoking hot, semi-skanky women out of work. They only work they get now is the occasional Coors Light poster. What’s a Hawaiian Tropic girl to do? It’s not right.

I have two criteria for any music video to be successful. I think you know what they are. That’s right, baby: HOT CHICKS AND HOT LICKS. Which is why it’s odd that my favorite video of all time features neither, and comes from a group that, under usual circumstances, I can’t fucking stand.

Now that’s high art. You can’t go wrong with Nathan Wind as Cochese.

Anyway, your turn. We’re making MTV an all-video channel again and you’re picking the videos that deserve to be in the rotation. THE RULES: Pick one video at a time. Once you pick, YOU MUST WAIT UNTIL TEN MORE VIDEOS HAVE BEEN CHOSEN TO SELECT AGAIN. And try and provide a link to your favorites if you can, so we can all share in the goodness.

Also, once one video from any artist has been selected, that artist is off the board. That makes your choices a little dicier. Which video from Video Vanguard award winner Tom Petty will you choose? Will it be “Mary Jane’s Last Dance,” or will it be nothing? I bet I can guess.

You steer me through the riptide of life
As a guiding star
There is never fear of strife
No matter where you are

When I’m up in some shit
You will never tarry
With no concern I get
Under four yards a carry

You are my best friend
A mom that’s truly hip
A love that never ends
Like a bag of Sun Chips

You mark my achievements
But don’t let me stand pat
Unless places convenient
To where the white women is at

You are the ground that I stand upon
You make everything right
Hey, what’s going on?
What are those flashing lights?

AAAH GOD NO
HELP ME MOM
MAKE THEM PLEASE STOP
I AM A HUMAN BEING

I HAVE RIGHTS
I HAVE RIGHTS
I HAVE RIGHTS
I HAVE RIGHTS

Steely McBeam didn’t ask to be created. He was thrust into a world not of his making; a world where those he was designed to amuse instead heap scorn and derision upon him. Steely quickly grew to loathe his creators for condemning him to a tertiary existence—not quite dead, not quite alive.

By and by Steely had a notion. If they could create Steely, then they should also be able to create a helpmate for him. Someone with whom he could share the travails of this frightening plane of existence. Someone he could lie down with at night, safe and secure, and wake up with in the morning– ready to face whatever lay ahead.

With his hardhat humbly in hand, Steely went to his masters. Please, he implored them, make me someone to love; make me someone who will love me. Steely’s creators took pity upon the wretch that they had made and knew that something must be done. They worked feverishly night and day for months– toiling to avoid the mistakes they made with Steely, yet mindful not to make something so different that it too would be repulsed by Steely’s angular visage.

Today we bear witness to the unveiling of the Bride of Steely McBeam. Look upon their works, ye mighty, and despair…

HT: The Burgh Blog via Mondesi’s House.

Ext. Golf Club of Dallas

[cellphone rings]

Tony: You got Romo!

Jessica: Why do you answer the phone like that? It’s so stupid.

Tony: Hey Jess, I told you I was busy today.

Jessica: Why, whatareyou doin?

Tony: Well, I just knocked in a 20-footer for par on the first hole. 17 more of those and I’m on to the sectionals!

Jessica: Ugh, nobody cares about your bowling scores.

Tony: No babe, I’m playing golf. Don’t you remember last week at dinner when I told you I was trying to get into the US Open?

Jess: Well if it’s open, why don’t you just go in? Ohmygod! Are you watching The Hills?

Tony: No Jess, I’m in the middle of my round.

Jess: Don’t they have a tv at the bowling alley? I mean, there’s a Hillsmarathon on today. Gosh, I really wish I were back on tv. We should totally get a reality show!

Tony: Actually Jess, I meant to talk to you about that. I’m going to be on that HBO show Hard Knocks during training camp.

Jessica: Hang on, I wanna conference in Daddy on the call.

Tony: What are you fucking kidding me? I once watched you put KY jelly on your toast, how can you possibly know how to-

Joe: Go for Papa Joe!

Jessica: Hey daddy! You won’t believe it, I’m gonna be on another reality show!

Tony: Uh, not exacly…

Joe: What the hell are you talkin’ about? My sweet baby Jessica is the show god damn it!

Tony: Actually Joe-

Joe: Call me Papa Joe.

Tony: I’d rather not. Listen, the show is Hard Knocks on HBO, and it’s about the Cowboys, not me and Jess.

Joe: Are you kidding me? Don’t they know that each one of her milky white ta-ta’s is worth millions in advertising revenue?

Tony: It’s a pay channel, they don’t have advertisers.

Jessica: I just got the sexiest bikini ever.

Tony and Joe: I bet you did, sweet tits.

Jessica: Awww, ya’ll are cute.

Joe: Hell, if this is pay tv we can finally let those suckable nipples some camera time!

Tony: You see, this is exactly why HBO doesn’t want Jess on the show.

Joe: What, are those Hollyjewmo’s scared of some good ole’ home-suckled American fuck globes?

Tony: Her what-globes were suckled by who now?

Joe: Fine, don’t show the fun bags, I’ll save their debut for my retirement. But how about a quick sex tape on the last episode? You know, totally dark, all subtitled like. Classy, all the way.

Tony: Jess, can you believe this shit?

Jess: I know, Heidi’s such a bitch!

Joe: Listen Chico, if you don’t fuck my daughter on that show then I’ll do it myself.

Tony: I hate my life.

[fumbles tee]