UPDATED!! This Week's CRAP COLUMN

This is my crap column, where I am at the liberty to talk about anything I want. I think I feel like talking about the fack that I can't fucking think of anything to fucking say in this fucking column. I've been sitting here for about 30 minutes and there's nothing coming to my mind and that,, quite frankly is extremely annoying. I'm usually so prolific and this is the column where i can pour out my creative soul, but i can't think of a topic!! Look at some of the fabulous topics of the past: groin enhancement!! The Slinky!! The Crap Column itself!! These are all writing gems, every word a ting orgasm in itself. These unbelievable columns slap the New Yorker in the face and spit on GQ, they laugh at Vogue and call The Guardian's momma fat. And yet, as a slap in the face of my creative genius, I can't write. I'm just blabbering in desperation. But wait... what's this? Hallelujah! Lo and behold! I have just written a pretty amazing article, taking the slap in the face from writer's block and countering with the Crippler Crossface. Figures really, doesn't it?

It's time for my prestigious Mad Props. This is the section where i get to choose any universal entity to bestow much deserved 'props' for whetever they may have achived this week. This week's mad props go to Trey Parker and Matt Stone, for releasing Chef's "Chocolate Salty Balls" as a CD single. Under mountains of dust and used tissues under my bed, i found this nugget of comedic gold. Mad props, homies.

UPDATED!! Jason Quotes, Notably
It's time to erratically squeeze, please. Ombudsman.

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