Zack’s Hate Mail From The Person Who Used To Live In His Apartment’s Stalker

"You're Making This Absurdly Difficult To Envision Myself Wearing Your Skin"

In our offices, everyday it seems like Zack gets a piece of Hate Mail from just about any and everybody you could imagine. Here are some of the keepers:

Dear Zack,

Sorry to introduce myself to you like this, but I couldn’t bottle up my anger at you anymore. I’ve been stalking you since you moved in around February. Let me just say, I’ve been doing this a long, long time, and I’ve never had a subject who made me consider getting out of the field as often as you do on an EVERYDAY BASIS.

Dan and his lovely wife, Veronica, were what made my business good. Regular activities, like puzzles or having friends over for a game night, were delightful to be a part of watch from a far. You realize you’ve been wearing that same “outfit” for about four days now, right? If you’re going to wear sweatpants everyday, at least maintain the dignity to swap them out for NEW PAIRS OF SWEATPANTS. The same ones day in and day out are making me want to throw up in an astronaut helmet and wear it on my head.


Dan and Veronica, I never knew what I had until they finally decided to get that house a couple of counties over, start a family. They used to laugh together, watch movies together, even read together! It was ADORABLE watching them flirt with each other with the same passion they had from day one, frolicking about in their matching His-and-Her robes. It warmed me, even from the branches outside the living room window, TRULY WARMED MY HEART.

You watch a lot of TV. I mean…wow. And it’s not even good TV. How many mid-day talk shows are there in the world? Who cares? Are you going to check out some of the places these shows are featuring? YOU DON’T GO OUTSIDE. Your “beard” looks like you wiped your mouth off with a brillo pad after a pie-eating contest. Your robe is pink and goes halfway between your hips and knee caps. It really makes me wish you were wearing the sweatpants again.


The only thing worse than watching you waste your life away and waste my REMARKABLY PRECIOUS time is watching what comes out of your apartment. Dan and Veronica would subscribe to health magazines! You could tell they were well-worn, and some sections were even highlighted. Even for a stalker, the magazines you’re discarding are…well they’re disturbing. And this is coming from me, a professional stalker. Dan and Veronica ALWAYS donated their old clothes to Goodwill. YOU KNOW YOU CAN WASH UNDERWEAR, RIGHT? You’re not just supposed to wear them until they lose every physical characteristic that qualifies them as “underwear” just to throw them away. It’s also really weird that they’re SpongeBob themed. PS – You need to fix your diet. You eat like eight 3 Musketeer bars a day. That’s not a hyperbole. Eight to twelve daily.

Listen, you get into this business to live your life through someone else’s. You get good people like Dan and Veronica Jenkins, you see them share their lives with one another, and through the good times and the bad, begin to feel like a very real part of their family. One who seems them naked on an almost daily basis. One who NEEDS to see them naked on an almost daily basis just to get through my own existence.

It’s people like you that are ruining the business. Take a shower, get some hobbies, and for God’s sake, do some crunches or something to make yourself desirable. I’m at my wit’s end here. A couple of more weeks like this, and I’ll start leaving bigger animal carcasses on your car, or worse, stop stealing your kleenexes and hiding in your bathroom closet. I’ve got an obsession to feed, man. You gotta do this for the both of us.

Get it together.


Anthony G*****s


Three People I Really Want To Punch in the Wiener Right Now

Everybody needs somebody sometimes. And sometimes, that somebody needs a good punch to wiener. Just a solid shot. It’s the worst pain you can feel as a man, and there are three people who are the most deserving to me after a Christmas weekend full of doing almost nothing but watch TV. And it was awesome. Except for having to see these three guys:

Guy From 1800 Tequila Commercial: I prefer to drink alone on the floor of my own bathroom in the dark, so I don’t get out to bars much. One of the primary reasons for this is that bars attract a lot of people like this guy: loud-mouthed jackasses who slick their hair back and act like they know everything. “Oh, look a’ me, I’m kickin’ bahhck, drinkin’ dis here drink and makin’ a SAHCASTIC ‘oops.’ Ask ayebody at dis BAH, they’ll tell yas I’m WICKED SAHCASTIC.”

Sure, I don’t live in the Northeast, but I feel like these smug d-holes are everywhere, trying to turn every bar in America into a club. “This is an Affliction t-shirt yo! No, I’m not involved in any MMA-related training, but if I were, you’d be in a lot of trouble! What’re you drinking? PSH, THAT AIN’T 1800 THOUGH! YOU EVAH EVEN HEARDA BOTTLE SERVICE?!”

This guy gets a slick-like-his-hair punch to the wiener; go in for the handshake or high-five, and BOOM! Then I’d say “Oops” all sarcastically.

Guy From Bleu de Chanel Commercial: I have two problems with this commercial. First off, this guy is an awful actor. He couldn’t possibly say those lines with a little FEELING, FOR GOD’S SAKE? I’ve seen better lines at my nephew’s Christmas play and that SUUUUCKED.

Secondly, and this is purely speculation at this point (I’D LOVE SOME CLARIFICATION, PEOPLE), but this guy seems like a real toolshed. “I’m not going to be the person I’m expected to be anymore.” A.) Bold statement, Claude, problem is NO ONE CARES. B.) Most people in this given situation are, like me, expecting that you’re a douche and saying statements like “I’m not going to be the person I’m expected to be anymore” confirm this expectation. DOUBLE WHAMMY. What’s this press conference supposed to be for, anyway? “I am a good-looking person and what I will say I will say it GOOD-LOOKINGLY.” Having worked in a pressroom before, I can confess, THAT WOULD HAVE TOTALLY GOTTEN ME TO THE PRESS CONFERENCE. But I would’ve been pissed had I gotten there and some pretty boy said that, then walked out of the crumbling room, WITHOUT EXPLAINING WHY THE ROOM WAS FALLING APART AROUND US.

I’d give him the Money Shot Wiener Punch. Be like “SHOW ME THE ABS, CLAUDE!” and when his reflexes caused his arms to lift his shirt, POW! Right to his defenseless wiener.

Larry the Cable Guy: He’s getting a show on the History Channel called “Only in America.” Guh. Okay, quickly:

  • Hard to be on a channel you’ve never seen before/can’t spell the name of, eh, Lars?
  • So the History Channel is assuming their audience is a bunch of mouthbreathing rednecks, yes?
  • “Larry the Cable Guy wows audiences across the country with his unique brand of humor and quirky take on America,” History president/GM Nancy Dubuc said in a statement. Nancy, I WILL PUNCH YOU IN THE WIENER IF YOU LIE TO ME LIKE THAT AGAIN.

Larry gets an overt and unfunny punch to the wiener. It’d be loud, and look like an accident or something so no one would laugh at it. That seems appropriate.


Christmas time. It comes every year, and it really is the best time of the year. I love the merriment, the new cold (not like that February cold, where it’s been cold for so long that you’re ready to wear shorts as soon as it’s in the 50’s and would murder multiple people if the ground would just thaw), and crooning music being played on Top 40 Stations.

I’m no Grinch (see what I did there? Took a classic villain of Christmas and made him me? I’m too much!), but not all is well with the Christmas season. Not all is well.

  • Christmas Letters That Come With Cards: (/rubs temples, /rubs face with hand) ALRIGHT, it’s not that I don’t care about you, your family, or what’s been going on in your life in the past year. It’s just that I don’t care about you, your family, or what’s been going on in your life in the past year. If I DID care about any of that stuff, I’d already know about it. In fact, if I don’t know about something around when it happens (“Oh man, did you hear about the Mollen Family? Can’t believe there was a live grenade buried under their house like forty years ago! Talk about bad luck, huh?”), I probably don’t need to hear about it until I run into you at the grocery store, homecoming, or better yet, never. Oh, you ran a half marathon? ORIGINAL. New job? Fantastic, give me money. Just got married? I KNOW, I HAD TO SIT THROUGH YOUR BORING, ALCOHOL-LESS WEDDING. DON’T REMIND ME.

    Keep it to cards featuring sweaters and a dog or something. At least that’s like a trading card I can put up to show how many people like me. The answer: two.

  • Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire: Have you ever SMELLED  a chestnut roasting on any fire, open or otherwise? It smells like one of those Fancy Feast, long-haired cats got thrown into a garbage fire. Not for me, friend.
  • John Lennon’s “So This Is Christmas”: I don’t mind most Christmas songs, stupid suggestions of burning foul-smelling nuts aside. But there are some I loathe. And there is one song in particular that seems to hunt me down every time I turn on any music device: Lennon’s “So This Is Christmas.” What an AWFUL, TERRIBLE, BARFTASTIC song. I can’t ever seem to change the channel fast enough. One time I changed the channel, and it was on another station too, causing me to drive right into a bridge embankment. I hear it every, haunting morning as my alarm clock, and I don’t even have a clock radio alarm, it’s just my cell phone. It’s a song so gut-wrenching that despite their contributions to music and pop culture and whatever, I wish the Beatles hadn’t even existed in the first place.

    That. Song. Sucks.

  • Lifetime Movies About Finding The True Meaning of Christmas: I’m sorry but there are only a few different meanings of Christmas. Jesus being born, Cherishing Family and stuff, being Thankful (BECAUSE YOU MIGHT HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT IT SINCE YOU LAST GORGED YOURSELF LAST MONTH), and enjoying peace in a world that doesn’t often encourage it. All of these Christmas movies about Jennifer Love Hewitt, Jenny McCarthy, or anyone else who has a name starting with J-E-N, struggling through the first 11 months of the year only to end up “finding the true spirit of Christmas…and a little bit about themselves” shouldn’t be revolving around Christmas at all. They should be revolving around…okay, they shouldn’t be movies at all, but if you’ve GOT to make movies, Lifetime, SPARE THE HOLIDAY SEASON.

    Now, Fred Claus? Elf? The Santa Clause (although, not 2 or 3)? Fine holiday films. I don’t need to hear how Tammy is going to get out of the sticky situation of a couple of failed marriages whaling on her emotions around Christmas. Send me a Christmas letter that I can feed to my dog instead.

    By the way, that’s a true story. Came home yesterday to Newman the Invincible having  DESTROYED such a letter. Proves two things: One, my dog > all other dogs, due to the fact he can read, and two, EVEN DOGS HATE THOSE STUPID LETTERS.

Other than that, guys, have a Happy Holiday season. Wait, Hanukkah’s over, right? Okay, Merry Christmas and Happy Festivus.


Couple of items on the agenda to get to today people, so strap in:

  • Oh, Mark Wahlberg. You never cease to make me laugh without directly meaning to.
  • Amy Adams was on Conan last night, talking about her upcoming role in the movie featured in that video up there, The Fighter. Having to be nitty-gritty Southie from Boston, she talked at length about having to improvise cursing during fight scene, coming to the realization that “c*wksuckah” is her favorite curse word, mainly because of how funny it sounds with a Bahstahn accent. OW-AH CURSE WORDS AR-UH BETTAH THAN YO-AH CURSE WORDS! Simply charming.
  • If you mosey on over to The Ghost of Roy Hobbs, you’ll find an awesome opportunity to play College Bowl Pick Em with everyone who’s anyone. Sign up, pick which team is going to win which bowl, give a tie-breaking National Championship score, and you’re done. If we get enough people this year, we’re looking to give away prizes, YES, TANGIBLE PRIZES. So do it. UNLESS YOU’RE A NERD, NERD!
  • Thanks to everyone who’s been stopping by the site, subscribing and whatnot. If you’re new here, hope you like what you see, look around, and feel free to tell your friends. You’re all awesome.

(h/t The Icehouse for the video)

This Expresses My Feelings On The Christmas Offerings of Children PRECISELY

Anyone who has kids, way younger siblings, nieces, nephews, cousins, or spatially confused grandparents can tell you, these gifts?…These are not my kind of gifts.

The messy photo covered in glue and glitter? THAT GLITTER GETS EVERYWHERE, KID. The crudely crafted construction paper Christmas tree? We’ve already got a dandy Christmas tree, and WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT GLITTER?! Christmas themed magnets for the fridge? Like I’m going to have the patience to put up and take down seasonal refrigerator magnets. You know that lopsided candy cane is going to still be there in August, and by then, we’re only four months away from Christmas anyway, and it’s going to look STUPID STUPID STUPID.

I’m not saying that I don’t understand that kids can’t be doling out plasma TVs or cool cars. That’s what makes the aforementioned video so humorous, dummy. And it’s not that I’m really materialistic and want everything. Those gifts really get on my nerves. I mean, how sentimental is this supposed to be for me, young man? You drew a picture of you, me, and Santa after you came in from playing out in the snow and while eating a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich. Am I supposed to bend at the waist and pick this up from the floor of my car? I really don’t care if a passenger’s Nikes put a smudge next to your jellystain. Not to mention, it looks REMARKABLY similar to last year’s scribbling as well. And the year before that. And the year before tha- ARE YOU NOT DEVELOPING AT ALL ARTISTICALLY OR INTELLECTUALLY? Sure, Jackson Pollack scribbled, but he did SOMETHING that wasn’t abstract SOMEWHERE before then.

Good talk, kid. See you out there. Merry Christmas.

The Haunting Incantations of This Hipster Sorceress Is Definitely Not The Reason I’m Buying A Hyundai Sonata

Commercials are whack.

Political commercials get me the most. They over-saturate the market so much that, frankly, defeat their own purpose. “This guy voted to HELP RAPISTS!” “Well this guy voted to HELP RAPISTS WHO MURDER!” And so on. And so on. The back and forth is stupid, although I’d like to imagine there’s one very uninformed person out there whose brain is being sawed in half by the political banter. “Well, I’m not voting for that guy! He stomps on kittens’ faces until he’s covered in kitty litter!…But I can’t vote for that guy either, HE’S WANTING TO BRING BACK CATAPULT EXECUTIONS!” Then, boom.

Anyway, this holiday season, Hyundai rolls out these commercials featuring this hipster band, Pomplamoose, with the intention of driving gooey-brained schmucks to their lots to purchase the new Sonata,  Accent, or Elantra or whatever it is they’re pushing. I mean, do they REALLY think that just because there’s some sort of fair-skinned siren singing one of everyone’s FAVORITE Christmas songs that we’re just going to come sprinting to the nearest Hyundai dealership?

Psh, yeah, right… I’m going because $200/month?  2.9 percent financing? SIGN ME THE F UP.

Sure I hear this woman’s voice every time I turn on the television. And I mean every time, on every channel. They’re such a totally accessable band, you could play them during football games, fashion shows, and ESPECIALLY during all of the sweet holiday specials going on this time of year. But seeing that woman prance around playfully – JUMPING IN THE CAR WINDOW, OF ALL THINGS – is definitely NOT the reason I’m getting a Sonata, definitely NOT AT ALL.

These cars are sleek, don’t you think? I like the shape. And I hear they run well.

This enchantress is not penetrating my dreams or anything. I’m not closing my eyes and seeing her porcelain skin spinning vertically, but never breaking eye contact with my inner soul. That doesn’t happen that often. I don’t hear the constant ringing of “Up on the house-top!,” sung so pristine and clear, LIKE SOME SORT OF FIREY ANGEL, in my ear drums like a storm siren going off during a calm Wednesday afternoon, slicing through the silence of my everyday existence and molding it to its will. I hardly even hear those sirens anymore! Do you? I mean, I do, but that’s because I don’t really go to work anymore, I just sit at home, wear my flannel and thick, horn-rimmed glasses, and listen to Pomplamoose’s albums – on vinyl, of course – and try to get something other than “DOWN WITH THE CHIMNEY FROM GOOD SAINT NICK!!!” off of the walls of the inside of my skull by any other means than scratching them off with my bare, worn fingernails, because I’ve already tried, ALREADY TRIED THAT AND IT JUST HURTS.

Hyundai cars are AWESOME on their own. That hipster lady isn’t telling ME to get anything. They’ve even got them in Red! Which is my new favorite color!

 Happy holidays, everyone. See you on the roads. In my NEW SONATA!!!

Why Is It EVERY Time I Go To The Grocery Store I Grab The ONE Motorized Cart With the Squeaky Wheel?


So I’m in the grocery store, and has this happened to anyone else? Sweet mercy, is it annoying or what?!

It’s like EVERY time I go to the grocery store I grab the ONE motorized cart with the squeaky wheel! I mean, I’m trying to get my groceries here, I’m not looking for a work out motor malfunction here! It’s just really awkward, you know, when someone’s trying to get something on the side of the aisle I’m sitting at and I’m having to force this stubborn wheel – one of four, rubber, pressurized wheels, mind you – out of the aisle so they can safely reach their chips without touching me or myself. Yeah, this requires me to completely exit the aisle, and at the staggering pace of 1/2 mph, YOU CAN IMAGINE MY FRUSTRATION!

Then I get to getting around the grocery store, and, have you noticed this people? It’s TOTALLY designed to keep you there! They’ve got the bread and the milk way in the back and you’ve gotta get through this ridiculously narrow and claustrophobia-inducing maze of aisles to get to the essentials. You have to pass by the sodas. You have to pass by the candy aisle, which is a bit redundant with candy also being at the check out line, and you have to pass by everything else before you get to the essentials. And by then THERE’S NO ROOM IN YOUR ONE BY ONE FOOT BASKET ON THE FRONT OF YOUR CART.

And they never have enough. I’m always having to come back for more of everything, very nearly every day. I consume all of it, give little to anyone else, as all of my personal relationships are virtually non-existent at this point. I come back in, one day after another, avoiding eye contact at all costs, purchasing the same ungodly amounts of food, candy, soda, EVERYTHING. THEY NEVER HAVE ENOUGH. I AM ENSLAVED IN MY BODY AND SHACKLED TO THIS GROCERY STORE.

…And I ALWAYS get the chair with the bad wheel. My luck, amiright?!