Food trucks are everywhere these days, so it was just a matter of time before they turned up in an adult film.
"The Flying Pink Pig" is about a bunch of nymphomaniacs who drive around Hollywood selling pork products, and it stars Ron Jeremy.

Fingers crossed they haven't heard of that "nose to tail" trend.

I can't watch any more of those Real Housewives TV shows since I heard one of them used to be a whore. I just can't concentrate. My eyes desperately dart from face to face as I wonder, "Is she the one who gave it up?"

Virginia Delegate Bob Marshall appeared on Fox News this morning to argue against “active homosexuals” serving in the National Guard.

Homosexuals would be allowed, he says, just not "active" ones. This is crazy. I wouldn't be any better at serving our country just because I lay there in bed.

A tourist board in England wanted to attract more visitors, so they held a contest to vote for the area's most popular attraction. Beating out quaint little villages and idyllic landscapes for first place was a heavy metal band called Cradle of Filth.

Is that ridiculous? I can't believe Bloomberg never trademarked the phrase.

An Illinois schoolteacher phoned his wife, but didn't say anything to her. She heard angry voices and assumed he'd been taken hostage, so she called 911 and a SWAT team surrounded the place. Later they found out he'd butt-dialed her by mistake, and he was listening to rap music at home.

Well, I don't blame the wife. I'd freak out if somebody called me, and in the background I heard some angry black man making them toast to the douchebags.

Fresh out of rehab, Lindsay Lohan has bought the house right next door to her ex, Samantha Ronson.

So the winning square in the Relapse Pool is "The first time another female parks in front of Sam's place." Whoever has it, congrats!

A fourteen-year-old boy from Oregon got separated from his mother while skiing, but because he was a fan of the survival TV show "Man Vs. Wild" he knew how to navigate using the North Star and how to build a snow bank to keep warm.

Sadly, his sister watched "Paris Hilton's My New BFF," and she snorted snow until her head blew off.

According to international bankers Goldman Sachs, Facebook -- the social network with 500 million users -- is now worth fifty billion dollars.

Really. Really? A hundred dollars per USER. You know, my RomanHans account might be worth something close to that, but my Buzzy McTinkle alias just might fall a little short.

Salman Taseer, the governor of Pakistan’s most developed province, was assassinated on Tuesday by one of his guards. Mumtaz Hussain Qadri apparently killed Mr. Taseer because of his opposition to the Pakistani law against blasphemy.

I think I speak for most of the world in decrying this reprehensible act, and declaring that terrorism will in no way squelch my political beliefs, but in fact makes me more determined than ever to express them. I assure you that I -- along with millions of other dedicated proponents of free speech the world over -- will never, EVER shut the front door.

All over America hipsters are waking up late, because the iPhone's alarm clock app doesn't work.

In Apple's defense, if their prices and service don't wake people up, a little bell doesn't have much of a chance.

How do you win a whole slew of Academy Awards? Hollywood knows: make a Holocaust drama, or a gun-totin' Western. Finally Sony Searchlight came up with the brilliant idea of combining the two, and they're already proudly predicting a 2012 Oscar sweep.

We got an advance look at the untitled project and just couldn't resist sharing some spoilers.

• What's bothering the cattle? Nazis.
  
  
• Hoss first got suspicious of Curly, the chuckwagon cook, when he spent half an hour explaining what the beans symbolized.
  
  
• Indians give him the nickname Wears Little Corn Cake On Head.
  
  
• "Get those wagons into a circle there." (PAUSE.) "Not so fast, Steinberg."
  
  
• For target practice, the sheriff plinks at two sets of dishes.
  
  
• Butch and Sundance nearly get away, but their elevator stops at every floor.
  
  
• Who's the rootin'-tootin'ist, quick-shootin'ist gal in the Old West? Anne Frank.
  
  
• Jack really, really wishes he knew how to quit Wilhelm.
  

Elton John's new baby son Zachary is living like royalty in his own $2 million apartment.

A top Hollywood interior designer is turning what was an ordinary apartment into a dream nursery. Although the work hasn't been finished, eight-day-old Zachary already lives there, looked after by round-the-clock nannies.

"I like my men to live in style," announced Cher.

Steve King, a Republican Congressman from Iowa, told CNS News that he often goes to schools to speak to students, and he even asks kids in kindergarten what he says is "one of the most profound moral questions of our age": "Where do you stand on the abortion issue?"

Yeah. Nice. After they just spent nine months being poked by a different dick.

The Three Stages of Life: Gossip

Robert Pattinson and Kristin Steward are reportedly vacationing together on the Isle of Wight.

YOUTH: "NOOOO! He's my boyfriend!"

MIDDLE-AGED: "Oh, dude, he is so totally boning her."

OLD: "God, they are just desperate to prove she ain't a lez."

The New York Times Understands Why The New Kanye West Record Has Received So Much Acclaim

There's the recent egalitarian streak in pop criticism -- the death of nongeneralists -- even if this specific embrace of Mr. West is merely a case of exceptionalism masking as democracy.

A man who stripped down to his underwear at a Virginia airport to protest invasive security screenings was charged with disorderly conduct.

Police said Aaron B. Tobey was “absent of pants and shirt in full public view." Written on his chest in marker was the Fourth Amendment, saying, "The right of the people to be secure against unreasonable searches and seizures shall not be violated."

He was arrested and taken into custody.

"Well, I think you made a great point," said the policeman who searched for machine guns in his ass.

Reggie Bush tweeted his 1.4 million followers today asking if it was okay to use the phrase "No homo."

Because a guy who wears spandex pants to work couldn't find a gay man to ask.

Isn't this cool? I just got it in the mail today.

After an eighty-year-old man was arrested for exposing himself to a ranger in a national park, he told the ranger he'd do free yard work for him if he'd let him go.

The old man said he's especially good at hedge-trimming and the ranger replied, "Yes, I know."

In an attempt at balanced journalism, yesterday BBC News followed a story about the birth of Elton John's son with an "opposing view" from a man who thinks homosexuals should be killed.

Facing widespread criticism, they offered a statement in their defense saying they always followed President Obama's speeches with discussions about whether or not he'd stick if you threw him at Velcro.

After Elton John became a father on Christmas day, the UK Daily Mail published an editorial saying he's a shallow, selfish diva and so should not be a parent.

"Don't worry, nobody's taking you from mommy," said every woman in Manhattan to her Peekapoo.

An Indian man revealed his secret for becoming a dad at age ninety-four. Every day he drinks a gallon of milk and eats a pound of butter.

Then, when he's in the bathroom screaming, his wife bangs a younger dude.

Thank you, Internet Explorer, for filling my window with advertisements and commercials before actually displaying any content. In return, I'm going to tell you exactly what I think of you.

But first, did you know you can chop a carrot with just the slap of a hand?

Less than two months after Joe Francis and long-term girlfriend Christina McLarty married in a civil ceremony at his luxurious Mexican retreat, the pair have separated.

She's allegedly asked for ten million; he's offered his usual, a "Girls Gone Wild!" sweatshirt and lifelong sense of shame.

In England, Burger King has started selling a Whopper made out of Brussel Sprouts.

It comes with a side of air pumpkin and gravy pants.

"I used to tend to farmers' animals, and I took payment in Mangalitsa [hog] belly," [Dr. Erno Hollo] said. "In Hungary, Boy Scouts didn't make S'mores. They would take a slab of Mangalitsa, put the fat over the fire and drink the sweet fat as it melted."

So fuck you, graham cracker and marshmallow.

Witnesses say she walked in with enormous breasts and walked out with flats.

I'm glad Viagra is available by prescription only, because there are some people who just should not have erections.

Anybody who can't afford to go to the doctor, for instance. Really, if you haven't got $75 for an office visit, should you be allowed to reproduce? I'm thinking that terminal softy is God's way of saying that maybe you should stick to video games. Getting a boner would just be setting you up for disappointment, because next you'd be looking for chicks, and I'm thinking even a pillow shaped like a dachshund would have second thoughts about letting a financially-deprived dude fuck it.

Old people shouldn't have erections either. Whoever said an idle mind is the devil's workshop never met a bored old lady whose dentures pop out. Really, have you ever seen a dude over fifty who you wished was hard? When your accountant is doing your taxes and he tells you to check a box, do you reply, "Dude, I'm already checking it!"? When your dentist moves in close and jabs your elbow into his squishy bits, do you really wish he had an hard-on so you could be sure exactly what part of it was ball?

Now, I agree that maybe we don't really need government intervention, because the potential for abuse seems pretty small. I mean, if oxycodone was available over the counter, half of Brooklyn would be at Rite Aid right now. But Viagra? We don't have to pay $10 to get an erection. We can just head to the store and look at Mrs. Butterworth.

Nobody'll give them to their partners for Christmas presents. Hell, we already miss the toilet as is.

In the end, though, I think doctors should be in charge of our erections. Mine certainly is, though it's got nothing to do with pharmaceuticals. There's just something about a man in a clip-on tie.

"Conservationists write me these nasty letters because I support an industry like this," Sarah Palin said after taking a chainsaw to an Evergreen Timber tree. "They write me these nasty letters using their pretty little pencils on their pretty little stationery not realizing. Where do you think your pencil and your piece of paper came from, people? It came from a tree that was harvested."

Dear Sarah:

Lady, the last time a liberal wrote with a pencil and paper they were begging James Van Der Beek to marry them.

Hope this helps,
RomanHans

Everything You Need To Know About Panda Poo

An adult panda defecates about 40 times per day, producing nearly 45 pounds of waste.

Each one [is] about the size of a goose egg, with sticks of partially digested bamboo poking out.

Because the pandas eat a mostly vegetarian diet, . . . their droppings [do] not have a distasteful odor. "I was surprised," [said artist Zhu Cheng.] "It smelled more like tea."

And God, does it stick to your teeth.

From the Gay City News:

After a conviction in the Palisades [Interstate Park] case, an appellate court reversed the decision, writing that the "Defendant presented a persuasive attack on [plainclothes officer Thomas] Rossi's credibility, raising serious doubts about whether it was believable that a police officer could have had almost a hundred men approach him, pull out their genitals and start masturbating without any enticement by the officer at all."

Oh, I don't know. Does he have a sweet moustache?

I don't know about you, but I get so frustrated with URLs. So often they sound like they're advertising one thing, and then they turn out to be another. Sometimes I think they intentionally try to mislead us just to get us to visit. The following, I think, are some of the worst. I've broken them up the way I assumed you were supposed to, but the reality is something else altogether.

move r snotshakers.com
heal t hymen today.com
cap it alone bank.com
rocko fag es musical.com
bagel bare ast miami.com
wee knight gourmet.com
ass u me love.com
staffordrotary.org/four-way testes say contest.cfm
big 3 part sex change.com
eriec anal village.net

Virtue is its own reward.

Vice can find a paycheck.

I've got last-minute shopping to do, so I'll leave you with some of the New York Times' words of the year. I've never heard any of these, but they'll definitely come in handy.

mansplainer: A man compelled to explain or give an opinion about everything — especially to a woman. He speaks, often condescendingly, even if he doesn’t know what he’s talking about or even if it’s none of his business.

sofalize: A marketing term created for people who prefer to stay home and communicate with others electronically.

coffice: A coffee shop habitually used as an office by customers, who mooch its space, electricity, Wi-Fi and other resources.

Is Sarah Palin A Dope Dealer?

Or does she just talk to them a lot?

Before Sarah Palin used the word "refudiate," the New York Times had it in a piece about dope dealers.

[R]efudiate was not Ms. Palin’s word first, even if she unpacked the portmanteau all by her lonesome. David Segal of The New York Times had it in print in late June, in an article about people who sell marijuana for a living. They are not easy to interview.

“Simple yes-or-no questions yield 10-minute soliloquies,” he wrote. “Words are coined on the spot, like ‘refudiate'. . . ."

Actually, this would explain a lot. We'd understand why she can't remember reading any books or newspapers. We'd no longer wonder why her kids have names like Trig and Blog and Whoopsie. We'd understand the goofy smile on her face. And, last, we'd know the reason she can see Russia from her house. Why, it's just to the left of the unicorn, past the angry leprechaun's dancing tree.

A cheap businessman, instead of providing heat for his workers, has had them all hypnotized into thinking they're warm.

Martin Connellan, the owner of a shoe repair shop, keeps the doors and windows open to clear fumes, which drops the temperature below freezing. After a five-minute session with a hypnotist, though, now his employees are stripping down to their underwear.

Dear David Beckham:

You are getting very sleepy.

Sleigh bells ring
Are you listening?

This song totally takes on a different vibe when you scream the second line.

Do you want to be known as . . . the host who hovers, vulturelike, with a garbage bag, waiting for the right moment to snag the crumpled pieces of Christmas wrapping? A garbage bag -- which, when you think about it, is not so far from a body bag -- that telegraphs the end of the party, the end of the holidays, the years rushing past, fading health, death, decomposition?

Sounds like somebody forgot to take their Cymbalta.

And Now A Word From Our Sponsor

A British man is planning to marry his Christmas tree.

Andy Park, a 47-year-old divorcée, loves Christmas so much he eats Christmas dinner every night of the year, and now he wants to marry his little plastic tree.

Apparently, during the holiday season he spends all his spare time with the tree, putting his big, dangly balls everywhere.

After that, he hangs up ornaments.

Miss Congeniality? Hitler.

The CIA was quick to refute the rumor. "That's just preposterous," said a spokesperson with the Occupational Mediation Group.

Katy Perry, on what she does with Russell Brand in the sack:

I have secrets and magic tricks, of course.

Presto! Your erection is gone.

Dear Owners of the Straight Acting Bulletin Board:

Recently I was browsing online personal ads and found your "Butch Board."

You say you like "straight acting" men. You're "masculinely politically incorrect." Your site is a safe haven for "straight acting" men, where "[m]en that have very few effeminate traits" can "find each other!"

I get it: you're all butch, butch, butch.

So how come the "Sporting Life" board has 325 posts and "That's Entertainment!" has 9,384?

Just asking,
RomanHans

With the wild success of Meet the Fockers and Little Fockers, Universal Pictures has given the green light to three more films in the franchise.


2012's offering will focus on Pam Focker and her relationship with her children, and has tentatively been dubbed Sorry, Mother Focker!


In 2014, the wacky family takes a serious turn in a piece about sexual slavery, Bought Fockers.


Last, in 2015, a family headed by two dads will be added to the fun. Hoping for a lucrative spinoff, the producers want us to Meet the Cox-Uckers.

Well, the other shoe has finally dropped. A friend who works on Broadway leaked this letter to me in advance of a press conference tonight.

---

Dear Theatergoers:

The producers of Spiderman: Turn Off The Dark regret to announce there's been another accident involved with the production. Fortunately, the injuries aren't life-threatening. We send our best wishes out to all injured parties.

We realize that, with four accidents in four weeks, it would be foolish and irresponsible to continue the way we're going. For that reason, we've decided to rename the show Spiderman: And Then There Were None! Can you guess who'll be next to plummet from the sky?

Ticket prices start at $85. Don't forget to bring an umbrella!

Signed,
The producers

---

Charles Barkley on Brett Favre's penis:

My biggest problem with the whole Brett Favre thing is, if you're going to send a woman a picture of your junk, it should be huge. You can't send small junk to a woman and expect anything. Seriously, you have to be like Ron Jeremy or some of those other porn stars. If you send a woman a picture of your junk, it should be humongous, it shouldn't be small. That's one of the Ten Commandments.

Great, huh? I really like this Barkley guy.

In fact, I just sent him a picture of my dick.

"Evan Almighty" came out three years ago, and I ignored it. I thought it would be lousy. I figured it'd be crap. What a stupid assumption that was! It wasn't bad: it was a massive pile of shit.

"Evan Almighty" is, indisputably, the worst film ever made. Nothing else comes close. Did "Plan 9 From Outer Space" cost $80 million dollars? Did "Showgirls" feature A-list stars? Do they repeatedly air "Troll 2" on a major network at Christmastime?

Evan, played by Steve Carell, is a modern-day Noah. Remember Noah's wife? The writers here don't either. The only lines spouted by Lauren Graham over two hours of screen time are, "Honey, are you positive God told you to build an ark?" and (SPOILER ALERT) "Gosh, I should have believed you all along!"

Likewise, their kids are the invention of someone who's never met actual children. Their love never wavers. They just want to be around Dad. They bring their skateboards and turn the semi-constructed Ark into a half-pipe. Look! Matthew did a quadruple Ollie. There's no disrespect. Also no girls, no swearing, no cigarettes.

You expect them to solve the Da Vinci code next.

The movie's main target, though, is disbelievers (read atheists and Democrats). Those NPR-listeners who'd run over Jesus in their Priuses if he got between them and the Whole Foods parking lot don't believe Evan. Heathens! He lectures them, but still they don't believe. He builds his ark, but still they don't believe. One pair from each of eight thousand species of animals, most from different continents, spontaneously wander to the ark and climb up the gangplank, but still they --

What?

Yeah, we're thick that way. "Yeah, honey, I saw it. That crank somehow got sixteen thousand animals to walk here from Nigeria and Peru, and now they're lined up to get on his boat. They're as blotto as he is. Hey, is Rachel Maddow on?"

The disbelievers stand by the ark and laugh, only backing away when the animals lurch at them. See, all this takes place in a state where you don't need to keep ferocious animals in cages. Naturally I'm thinking it's some flat, warm part of Sarah Palin's Alaska. When lions and tigers and wild boar growl at, say, police officers, they'll just look scared and scamper behind a tree. Because there's nothing written in the penal code, there's nothing they can do.

The movie is awash with small miracles, like when Evan's building the ark. "There's no way I can finish it in time!" he screams in frustration.

"But you could if you got the animals to help," little Luke offers, in between Flip 540s.

"That's brilliant!" Evan screams. "That's it! The animals can help! The animals can help!"

And in the next scene you see a monkey holding a hammer. A monkey holding a hammer, on a boat the size of eighty football fields. Hoorah! Fuck you, Teamster oafs!

Literally every second of this monstrosity boggles the mind, but one scene in particular stands out. You'll pinch yourself to make sure you aren't dreaming. Before the flood, Evan's kids notice that the animals are acting weird. "Animals have an amazing ability to sense things that humans can't," tousle-haired Leviticus says. "When there's weather coming, they sit."

Got that? It's a work of art, that line. So much shit packed into so few words.

First, "weather coming"? Not "bad weather," just "weather." Like your puppy will take to its haunches when partly cloudy appears.

The main problem, of course, is that the "sitting" part is pure bullshit. Animals freak out when storms approach. They howl, they run around, they paw at the ground. Maybe this was in the original script. But when the producer saw it, he said, "Hey, I'm paying three hundred bucks to have a tiger growl. I'm not forking over eight thousand to have some fuckin' ibex paw dirt. Change that: Instead of the animals going apeshit, they'll . . . they'll . . . sit."

"Sit?" the writer repeats, incredulous. "Like, sit down?"

"Yeah," the producer confirms. "When they sense trouble, they sit. In fact, we already got dogs who'll do it. I can pay for three hookers and an ounce of blow with the cash I save."

Eventually, of course, the flood comes, but it's not from God. That'd just be too religious, despite the fact the DVD actually smacks you with a hammer if you don't have a crucifix in your home. Water pours through the center of town, eighty feet high, lifting the ark and washing away everything in its path.

Ten feet away, people watch in awe. They point. "Look at all that water!" they say. And then, because it doesn't actually flow toward them, they turn back to what they were doing. "So, what else is on sale at Rite Aid?" they say.

As the water evaporates, the religious people high-five and the disbelievers pack up and move away in shame. The happy ending is confirmed by a TV news anchor. "Everything's great now," he says. "Don't know how the animals will get home, but since we don't know how they got here, that seems perfectly cool."

Fade to black. You're frozen in your chair. Stunned. Speechless.

In fact, if Steve Carell hadn't taken off his shirt about halfway through, you'd swear you wouldn't watch it next year.

Well, I'd get excited too if I'd forever immortalized the elusive charm of my dick.

Just a perfect day,
Drink sangria in the park,
And then later, when it gets dark,
We go home.
Just a perfect day,
Feed animals in the zoo
Then later, a movie, too,
And then home.

Oh, it's such a perfect day,
I'm glad I spent it with you.
Oh, such a perfect day,
You just keep me hanging on,
You just keep me hanging on.

Just a perfect day,
Problems all left alone,
Weekenders on our own.
It's such fun.
Just a perfect day,
You made me forget myself.
I thought I was someone else,
Someone good.

Oh, it's such a perfect day,
I'm glad I spent it with you.
Oh, such a perfect day,
You just keep me hanging on,
You just keep me hanging on.

You're going to reap just what you sow,
You're going to reap just what you sow,
You're going to reap just what you sow,
You're going to reap just what you sow.

Dear Susan Boyle,

Christmas songs don't usually start with hints of helplessness and end with repeated threats of vengeance.

That's what Christmas dinner is for.

Hope this helps,
RomanHans

Stan Knew It Wasn't His Imagination. Whenever He Went To The Museum, Everybody Stared At Him.