Please, God, let some little kid get abducted soon. He could be a little shit, just some brat running around in his front yard, with a mother too busy neglecting him by making dinner in the kitchen. Some pervert scoops him up, leaves no obvious clues, and Nancy survives for another three months.
That kid’s blood is going to pay for my kitchen expansion. Perhaps I’ll name it after him or her (it’s probably going to be a her). Or perhaps I’ll call it Cold Justice, since I have a new refrigerator coming in as well.
I care about these kids. I name each of my house’s expansions after them. Little John Bennett, I loved her. I loved her so much that I rearranged the tiles in my walk-in shower to look like the last living photo of her. No, I wasn’t a TV show journalist at the time; I just cared. Read the rest of this entry
Charlie Sheen ruined my chance to make it as a writer. I had everything in the palm of my hand; a spec script that would guarantee me meetings with every studio in this city. Spec scripts are meant to show your ability to work with a preexisting show, but that leads to you writing the thousandth script where Dennis and Mac make fun of Charlie in Always Sunny in Philadelphia. They key is to make one that stands out; even if they wouldn’t ever shoot it, something that will make those hiring remember your name.
With Sheen’s self-destruction, the show’s done for and the dark turns in my script actually seem prophetic of what was to come when i wrote the thing. Read excerpts below from “Charlie’s Murder and Presents”. Read the rest of this entry
Hi everyone! Joey and Kyle here to give you the first taste of what will end up being a weekly staple here on Nonstop Karate. The “comedy” in our posts has been described as dark, cringe worthy, “alright I guess”, unenjoyable, and erotic (in an “I accidentally saw my Grandma naked and my boner is confused” type of way.) Whether it be Joey/Kyle/the collective hive mind known as LOLJK, please enjoy our terrible, terrible words.
In this first installment, we take an excerpt from the LOLJK Survival Guide (coming soon to booksellers nation wide). This particular chapter deals with a problem everyone has dealt with at one time or another. But worry not, the experts are here to see you through.
It doesn’t really matter how it happened. Some lady that you were going to graciously pay for adult services is now inconveniently dead on your hotel flor. While we all know it’s unprofessional to die in the middle of a transaction, you must keep your wits about you. Apart from the giant kink this just threw in your evening’s plans, if you don’t play your cards right, the effects of the soulless dead thing on your floor could have a longer lasting effect than the incessant burning in your bathing suit area. So grab your handbook and follow each of these steps carefully:
Take a deep breath and give yourself a moment to regain your wits. Don’t feel rushed, at this point you’re “off the clock.” This is the time to brush your teeth to get the hooker spit out of it, put on some pants, shower, and attempt to look like someone who ISN’T hauling a dead body around. Read the rest of this entry
Teacher Dolores: Kids don’t like anything I assign except for Catcher In The Rye. What do we do?
Teacher Eustace: Reinstate the draft.
Teacher Mildred: Impossible. Now that candy sucker Carter is in the White House.
Teacher Dolores: What kids need is something to weasel its way into their skulls and carry the seed of good literature.
Teacher Eustace: Reinstate the draft.
Teacher Mildred: That doesn’t even make sense.
Teacher Dolores: What about comic books? Young Jimmy is always reading a Bazooka Joe issue in class and I just saw that new movie Batman and Robin is a big hit.
Teacher Mildred: Not a bad idea. Wrap the bitter pill in a slice of cheese. It’s how I give my cats their medicine. Quick, too the printing press!
This is what that meeting brings forth: Dostoyevsky Comics. Read on, dear browser. Read the rest of this entry
Velma, you dumb bitch.
Yes, I know you’re the smartest one here. Calling you dumb is ju- god damn it. Look, when I funded this mystery team with my dad’s blood money, it was mostly to launder a lot of funds and have an excuse to get out of the house. I just want to enjoy it; savor the adrenaline of hunting down monsters (the most dangerous game next to one Tommy Lee Jones), but every five minutes you have to bring up science and math into this. Thank you for ruining the illusion that those glowing footprints are just paint, not ectoplasmic goop. Read the rest of this entry