Another Louisiana Embarrassment, What a Surprise

Whenever Louisiana makes national news, you just know it's going to be bad. It's always something that makes us look like the slack-jawed inbreds that we are, like the headline:

Police Search for Phantom Snuggler at LSU.

Yes, you read that correctly. Years ago, Louisiana State was terrorized by the Phantom Snuggler, who would creep into women's apartments and... snuggle. Listen to the tale of horror from one of the victims:

Freshman Kaylin Spence says she woke up last Sunday to find the intruder in her bed trying to embrace her.

"I woke up with a guy with his arms around my waist and realized that was not right," Spence said on ABCNEWS' Good Morning America. [...]

"Finally, I said, 'Who are you? What are you doing?' He's like, 'I'm Steve. I said, 'I don't know a Steve.' I said, 'Get out, I don't know you.' He said OK and got up and left," Spence said.

The. Phantom. Snuggler.

A mysterious fiend so awkward and gay that Scooby Doo didn't want any part of it. "Ruck your Scooby Snacks. Roo people are rucked up!"

And that brings us to Steven Seagal, Lawman. Seagal is getting sued by a woman who claims she was hired as a production assistant for him and was subsequently kidnapped and sexually harassed for days in his Lafiite home until she made a daring escape.

By calling a cab.

Traumatized, frightened and emotionally scarred, this young lady vows to bring this terrifying rape-crazed lunatic to justice.

By suing him for one million dollars.

Needless to say, Seagal's boss, Sheriff Newell Normand is taking the position of, "Hey, you know what would be neato to go along with your accusation of rape? Some fucking evidence. Or at least coming in and making a statement - ANYTHING. Until then, shove off, golddigger."

Oh, but there was a crime committed here, alright. A crime against decency. A crime against humanity. A crime that will sear itself into the annals of a state overburdened with embarrassing headlines.

That crime was perpetrated by a young lady who gave us the visual image of Steven Seagal peeling off his sleeveless maternity kimono to reveal his lumpy, misshapen nakedness while growling "it's not a job, it's an adventure!"

Look at this fucking doppelganger

And I'm not just talking about the flop-sweat, wire-rimmed glasses and the hair that looks like it's been combed with buttered toast. It's the constant evasive non-answers and feigning ignorance that reminds me of attorney Nathan Thurm. All this doughy, pasty bitch needs is a cigarette with an inch-long ash and the two would be indistinguishable.

"I'm not being evasive. You're the one that's being evasive. Why is it always the other person that's being evasive? [looks at camera] It's him, right?"

Fuck you, Chevrolet.

I guess that newly developed speedometer technology was kicking your R&D team's ass as late as 2005, because here I am on I-10, doing at least 70, with the speedometer pegged at zero.

I'd have loved to get pulled over.

"Do you know how fast you were going?"

"Now how the fuck would I know that, Officer? Look at the shitbox I'm riding in. It's five years old. Speedometers don't last that long, so quit harassing me, pig! BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!"

And then I would speed off. At least I think I'd be speeding, but how could I be sure - MY FUCKING SPEEDOMETER IS BROKEN.

And another thing for all you brand-humping NASCAR fans: the only, and I mean the ONLY thing Jeff Gordon and his "Number 24 Chevy" have in common with your shitkicker Silverado with the lame-ass decal of Calvin pissing on a Ford logo, is that they both have the same stupid "bowtie" logo on the hood. There isn't a damn thing made by Chevrolet in "stock cars." Those are handmade, million-dollar machines. Think about that as you carefully place the decal that reads "CHEVY" across the top of your Camaro's windshield, which already identifies itself as a Chevy ON EVERY SIDE OF THE FUCKING VEHICLE.

And who wears a fucking bowtie, anyway? And what kind of double amputee would tie it so ineptly that it would look like Chevy's stupid logo?

And another thing about that bowtie - Louis Chevrolet, the founder of this shitty company, took the design from the wallpaper in a French hotel room. On the Gay Scale of 1 to Richard Simmons, that's about a Lance Bass rubbing oil on Ryan Seacrest's back. Hopefully, you just swallowed your Skoal Bandit. And if that story's not true, then it oughta be, because nothing's gheyer than sitting around a French hotel room, admiring the wallpaper.

And before you start asking the obvious question - "Well, how come you have a Chevy?" let me just tell you. It is the first Chevy I've owned. It's also the last. The difference between me and Chevrolet is that I learn from my mistakes and don't repeat them. Chevy's been making the same shitty cars for 100 years AND THEY WON'T FUCKING STOP! Just when it looked like GM might go bankrupt and lance this boil on the ass of the automotive industry, our asshole president bails them out.

There is no justice.

Pimp my Ride Death Star

It may be a piece of shit, but it's a SHINY piece of shit. And as was proven on Mythbusters, you CAN polish a turd.

When we were in Canada for Easter, our Canuck friends were asking whether we noticed that most of the locals drive smaller, more fuel efficient vehicles. Oh, we noticed. So much for blending in to the local population. At least our Ford Expedition is a little bit smaller.

Welcome to The Empire of Jeff!

NONE OF YOU ARE SAFE