It’s nature’s cruel joke – with a punchline that cannot be avoided. Your toes start to look like fingers, and vice versa. For whatever reason, you find it much more comfortable to sleep in the bathtub. You enjoy the elevator music version of songs more than the actual version. You become aroused by the smell of laundry detergent. You’re compelled to put hot sauce on everything, even open wounds.

But in time, I’ve embraced the inexorable march of time, and begun to enjoy – gain respect for – what’s happening to me. That my sweat has the consistency and color of motor oil, but tastes like pure cane sugar. That I stridently argue for pornography as an art form. That I’ve mysteriously gained the ability to play the guitar – not well, but I can play it. That I finally “get” Kimmel. That I only find Mexicans of the other sex attractive, or, in a pinch, members of the other sex eating Mexican food.

Yes, I might be getting older. But I’ll take it. Except for the greying temples, that can go to hell.

I was only eight years old when it happened. We were gathered around the Christmas tree, opening gifts and making merry, when a deranged psycho dressed like Santa broke through the front door of the house wielding a kitchen knife. I hid underneath my bed, but he viciously murdered everyone else… Mom, Dad, my brother Paul, Nana, Granddad, and my six aunts and uncles. When I finally crept out, the carpet and walls were completely soaked with blood, and every person I loved had been carved up into a virtually-unrecognizable state. Ever since then… I dunno, Christmas doesn’t have the same magic.

I try not to let this time of year let me down. I’d love it if I passed by a mall Santa and it made me think of all the children who believe in that beautiful lie – the jolly old man who sneaks down their chimney and gorges himself on milk and cookies. Instead, it brings to mind deranged prison escapee Tommy Sidorkiewicz and his unnerving thousand-yard stare. Kinda makes me feel like a Scrooge!

To answer a question I’m sure you all have, I don’t know why he was wearing a Santa costume. I guess that’s what makes a maniac a maniac. You can’t make much sense of anything they do.

It’s not like I haven’t tried to get into the spirit. There’s still some Christmas traditions I take part in. I always hang a stocking by the chimney with care. Of course, all the care in the world won’t stop it from reminding me of how my Uncle Peter used a stocking to hold his intestines in after Tommy Sidorkiewicz gutted him like a fish. Geez, I am begging Santa to fill that thing with coal, huh?

Please, Jordan, keep your costume on. I’m about to head out, and these people shouldn’t be deprived of your “sit on Jordan’s lap and tell him what you want” routine. Because you are just slaying with that.

Don’t worry about me. I’ll probably just walk home, taking special care not to look at any newspapers, bus ads, storefronts or homes, and watch the Shalom Network, the only channel that isn’t showing some form of Christmas-themed content. It may not be the most entertaining stuff but I have picked up a working knowledge of Hebrew!

Well, kol tuv. What’s that? New Year’s? I’d love to, but my girlfriend was killed in a ball-dropping ceremony, so… pass.

GOOD: I lost my teddy bear. Will you sleep with me?
BAD: I sleep with a stuffed animal.

GOOD: If I said you had a great body, would you hold it against me?
BAD: (menacingly) Hold your body against me.

GOOD: Are your pants from outer space? ‘Cause your butt is out of this world!
BAD: There are creatures from other planets that want us to mate.

GOOD: Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?
BAD: Are you hurt? I can take you to the hospital. Follow me to my van with the tinted windows.

GOOD: Are you a parking ticket? ‘Cause you’ve got FINE-FINE-FINE written all over you.
BAD: Someone wrote the word “FINE” all over your clothes. You should take them off, and swallow this pill.

GOOD: If I could rewrite the alphabet, I would put U and I together.
BAD: If I could rewrite the alphabet, I would put J and U together, because I just J’d off to U in a storage closet.

GOOD: I must be in heaven because I’ve seen an angel!
BAD: I’m having a drug hallucination where I think I’m in heaven. Swallow this pill.

GOOD: Do you have a map? Because I just keep getting lost in your eyes!
BAD: Here’s a map to my step-dad’s auto body repair shop. I laid down a rain-soaked mattress I found on the highway, meet me there in an hour.

GOOD: Something’s wrong with my cell phone. Your number’s not in it!
BAD: I’m the guy who did all that stuff at Penn State.

See the rest at Dorkly.com!

See the rest at Dorkly.com!

Fortunately, I was able to weasel my way into a press pass by posing as a columnist for “Tandoori Fire” which, little did IIFA know, is a particularly well-priced Indian restaurant in the downtown core. My experience began on the awards’ trademark green carpet, which was adopted to raise awareness for environmental issues. However it seemed that the event’s Canadian organizers were unable to secure one, and had instead covered a red carpet with a slick coat of saag paneer. More than one foreign movie star slipped and fell on their artha. It was all in good fun, much like a Kids Choice Awards “sliming”, until Bipasha Basu snapped her ankle like a twig.

We were then ushered inside to await the beginning of the show. Some journalists reported that it began 90 minutes late, but they are being charitable to their hosts; the delay was over six and a half hours. As time dragged on, I noticed some Indian families drawing straws to determine who would be eaten. I dozed off and awoke to a swarthy fellow by the name of Raju rolling up my pantleg. I shooed him away but more patrons encircled me. Just as I tore the arm from my seat to defend myself, the lights went down and the show began to the delight of all.

I followed along surprisingly well, even though hosts Ritesh Deshmukh and Boman Irani spoke in both English and Hindi, and even sprinkled in the occasional Yiddish expletive. They had the audience in the palm of their hand from the moment they launched into their legendary “Jeetendra’s On First” routine. There were other pleasures that made the thirteen hour-plus ceremony fly by, such as a song-and-dance tribute to Canadian culture that regrettably chose to focus on the television show “Just For Laughs Gags” and Harvey’s Restaurant. I even got a little misty from the “In Memoriam” montage for this year’s actors who were trampled in Bollywood dance routines.

Later, the cast and crew of “Pyara Aura Aphima” (Love and Opium) accepted a Special Achievement Award for making the first film in IIFA’s history to clock in at less than three hours long. It received a standing ovation, and deservedly so. Finally, after more than 110 awards, the night/morning/day came to a close with an appearance from Indian idol Shah Rukh Khan, and, as is apparently an IIFA ritual, the crowd paid him a human sacrifice. I would not have wanted to be that stagehand!

As I filed out of the Rogers Centre, delirious and sticky with sweat, I knew I had truly experienced something special. I can’t wait to go again next year! I just hope that Moncton’s bid for the 2012 IIFA Awards is successful.

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CEO, Fun Time Dating

Well, we’ve really done it now. We’ve had high-profile visitors to our town die – heck, just last year, that delegation from the Dalai Lama’s monastery got Super Cholera from our tap water. But never like this. Never David Spade.

I was officiating the ribbon-cutting for our new comic book library at the time, but if I understand correctly, this is how it went down. Spade was passing through town when his sports car hit a four foot pothole, and when Barbie Nubb answered the tow call, Spade trained his trademark caustic wit on her, suggesting that her leg bangles were, in fact, from the Lindsay Lohan Ankle Bracelet Collection. As more townspeople stopped to gawk, they too were met with his withering barbs that, from what I understand, referenced hot Hollywood gossip. One thing led to another and… well, they hung David Spade from the overpass.

Because the majority of our town took part in the murder, it’s impossible to hold any one person responsible. That’s the beauty of mob justice, I suppose. I’m going to give everyone on this council the benefit of the doubt and assume that you weren’t involved, even though some of you are in fact bloodstained and tired, and Gertle was selling commemorative “I Helped Kill David Spade” tees out front.

Merle, please stop eating as many cans of rations as you can. I’d appreciate your attention. And everyone else, stop cheering him on! Merle, you are not, nor have you ever been, a Major League Eater. I’m -

What’s that? How many pounds of calamari? Well, color me embarrassed. And a little impressed!

I know us Opa-Lockians historically haven’t “cottoned” to famous outsiders who stop through town because we feel like they’re rubbing their success in our sauce-stained faces. I was especially appalled when that courageous disabled runner Ricky Templeton chose to make our fair burg a stop on his Jog for Cancer, and subsequently was shaken down for smokes and had his artificial leg stolen.

There’s just no place for that! It’s the main reason that our town’s old slogan, “C’mon ‘n’ Stay A While!”, has since been replaced by “The Shit You Lookin’ At, Shitface?” – which, by the way, I was outvoted on.

The critical disappointment that was Joe Dirt doesn’t justify this! David Spade had powerful friends. That’s right: Sandler. He’s got enough money to buy this town and turn it into a parking lot. And for the portion of this council that doesn’t spend most of their time drinking moonshine in a parking lot, that’s a bad thing.

Merle, please stop goose-stepping around. This is not Hitler’s bunker and you are not Hitler. I don’t think Der Fuhrer had a full-sleeve Aerosmith tattoo in desperate need of retouching.

I’m handing off the baton. How are we getting out of this pickle soup?

Sorry, Alf, but I don’t think we can spin Mr. Spade’s death as a suicide. It would be the first suicide in Opa-Locka’s history, which is undoubtedly because most of our citizens can’t tie a knot.

No, “Nuts” Carl, walling the town off from the rest of the country is not an option. But that’s not going to stop you from suggesting it at every town meeting, is it? Tell you what: you find a backhoe that can dig a fifteen-foot “acid moat” and then we’ll have this conversation.

Merle, for God’s sakes, please stop loudly, and obscenely, cursing the lack of cell phone reception. There’s fifteen feet of solid concrete between us and the ground. You’re dumb as a post! It’s no mystery why your wife left you for a Greyhound bus driver.

I’m sorry. That was a low blow.

Just a second… “mystery”. Merle, you just gave me a genius idea! Why don’t we just spin this whole affair into a classic “whodunnit” murder mystery? We’ll invite folks from all around, and if they’re able to solve our unsolvable crime, they get free lunch at the Chinese buffet! An attraction like this could definitely boost tourism. I mean, the 9/11 Hijacker Museum just isn’t the cash cow we thought it would be.

And we’ll erect a monument for him to keep his La-La-Land buddies happy. “Tommy Boy Fields”, anyone? When life gives you David Spade’s limp, lifeless husk, you make lemonade!

Let’s get out of here. Merle, why don’t you crank open the door? No, no, Merle – you’re turning it the wrong way. Remember: lefty loosey, righty -

And you’ve broken it off and sealed us in here forever.

Someone pass me some stew, please.

Cable #JOEUKAI27298 – Chinese leader Hu Jintao enjoys entertaining his subordinates with a hilarious, lengthy “Hu’s On First?” routine.

Cable #VVSFFJD88525 – Xbox Live was actually created as an outlet for Dick Cheney to shout the N-word at 14-year-olds without compromising his career as Vice President.

Cable #LXRSGJV87492 – In the spring of 2008, the FBI, tantalized by a gossipy blogger, poured millions of dollars of resources into finding out if John Travolta is gay.

Cable #VZCZCXP02932 – The US government hired Criss Angel to make the deficit disappear. Instead, he made the deficit float without wires.

Cable #ZUJXTIG46587 – The actual secret history of the United States was depicted accurately in the “Metal Gear Solid” video game series.

Cable #POKVXAZ46782 – French President Nicolas Sarkozy enlisted help from American RnB singer Julius Love to craft a touching ode to wife Carla Bruni’s bodacious badonk.

Cable #XMJSGBJ74226 – In March 2005, insane African warlord Mbuki Mbuko struck a deal with the Taliban to provide a massive shipment of arms, but the deal was called off when Taliban leaders realized Mbuko was referring to actual human arms.

Cable #TMEWXVR46588 – The actual secret history of the United States was depicted accurately in the “Crash Bandicoot” video game series.

Cable #NMCWSFX98209 – A top US diplomat scheduled a meeting with Nigerian President Goodluck Jonathan, only to cancel it upon learning that Goodluck Jonathan is not an awesome piano rock group.

Cable #HLCYASP15603 – Apparently, there’s a country called Mauritania.