Hello, my tribe. Are we all here, present and accounted for, and anxious to get today’s diatribe going? I know I’m a day late, but sometimes it’s good to wait. Good shit takes time. Bad shit is the product of procrastination. You be the judge.

Diatribe on!

SCOTTSDALE, Ariz. (AP) – The name of a new restaurant in Scottsdale is stirring up some trouble. The Las Vegas-based Pink Taco Mexican Restaurant is scheduled to open its second location in downtown Scottsdale in June. Nearly half a dozen people in the upscale city recently expressed their objection to the name, claiming it’s a derogatory slang term for a portion of the female anatomy. In late April, the city received four e-mails, three of which bore no names, objecting to the restaurant’s name. One of those e-mails stated: “The City of Scottsdale has a very fine reputation around the world. Let’s keep the standards high. Let’s let what plays in Vegas stay in Vegas.” Scottsdale Mayor Mary Manross has said she is offended by the name and went so far as to ask the owner to change it, although he refused. Restaurant spokeswoman Lisa Perez said the company’s name comes from one of its menu items. Perez said the company has not received any complaints or objections about its name. The original Pink Taco is inside the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas. The Scottsdale City Council is scheduled to decide Monday whether to recommend the restaurant get a liquor license. If granted, the restaurant’s application would then be sent to the state liquor board for review.

The Pink Taco. I like it. It has a certain appeal. The name just rolls off the tongue, too. Can’t you just hear the marketing slogans already? Come Get Satisfied at the Pink Taco! Had Any Pink Taco Today? Pink Taco: You Know You Wanna Hit That. Slide Inside the Pink Taco. I can see so many marketing opportunities with this franchise. They could put a hair salon beside it, and offer brazilian waxes to go with the pink tacos. There are just so many possibilities. But seriously, why is the town getting all upset over this? Think of what it COULD’VE been named!

  • The Meat Curtain Buffet
  • Hot Dog Highway
  • The Fill-Upian Tube Eatery
  • Womb for More Chinese Food
  • The Snatch Bakery
  • Nappy Dugout’s Sports Bar
  • The Hairy Taco

I could go on, but I sense that you’re ready for me to stop.


BANGKOK, Thailand – If you’re a tourist in Bangkok, you might want to think twice before kissing a transvestite. Apparently, members of a Thai transvestite gang have been hiding sedatives in their mouths and spitting them down the throats of victims while kissing. Three transvestites confessed to this new scam, and police say they robbed a Bangladeshi businessman of more than $7,300 in cash and valuables after drugging him. The victim told investigators he met the transvestites in a bar and invited them back to his place. After one kissed him, he passed out. When he woke up, his cash, watch, cell phone and notebook computer were gone.

Two words, people: “adam’s” and “apple”. Learn it, love it, use it. If her neck has a ball, her pants probably do, too. See, no one would *ever* know about this, if I was the only victim. You would not BELIEVE the story I’d come up with for why my possessions were stolen, because you’d swear I stole it from a Hollywood screen writer, or from a little kid who just got caught stealing something. Do you think I’d roll up to the police department, outraged and pissed beyond the measure of pisstivity, and tell them that I was mackin’ down with a TRANNY and s/he stole my shit? Think again. My story would have explosions, narrow escapes from ninjas, hot air balloons, gunfire, a snow ski chase during a full-on avalanche, a nuclear device being smuggled to the West, a torture rack, 3 bottles of champagne (1 empty), and a talking rhesus monkey that holds the key to everything. Nowhere in my tale would the word “transvestite” appear, and quite frankly, I wouldn’t really care if I got my shit back. The amount of disinfectant and bleach and hydrochloric acid I’d use to cleanse the materials would render them pretty much unusable, anyway.


PALM SPRINGS, Calif. – If you are going to call police about a possible break-in, make sure you hide your stash of drugs. Ronald Meyers heard suspicious noises outside his home and called police. When they arrived, they found something more suspicious inside the home: an eight-foot tall pot plant and about $100,000 worth of marijuana. The officers searched outside but found no burglar, so asked Meyers if they could check inside. When he let them in, officers found the stash. Meyers was arrested on a charge of possession of marijuana for sale.

This is funny because Boy George did this EXACT SAME THING not to long ago. He was high as shit, called the cops because he thought a burglar came into his crib, and when they got there, they found no burglar, but they did find his stash of coke on his desk. He offered the classic response: “It’s not mine”. He went from looking like this:

To looking like this:

Write it down, folks. It’ll be the first (and likely last) time you’ll hear me say this: That man looks way, way better in makeup. Now, enough about Boy George – what about our boy Ronald? Ronald obviously was dipping into his personal stash, got a little too much ganja, and starting getting all paranoid like pot people get when they get real, real high. So instead of just chilling out, reloading his water bong and zoning out to Bobobobo-Bobobo on Cartoon Network, he calls the damn cops. I imagine that if they were veteran polic officers, it was all they could do to NOT laugh at this fool when they found the plant in his house. There is no plausible explanation for having a $100,000 pot plant growing inside your house. None. There’s no “I didn’t know what it was”, or “I was keeping it for a friend”, or even “It looks good with the post-college decor”. There’s only laughter and the sound of handcuffs closing. Speaking of handcuffs closing, what up, CP? JONX! (All hail the currently-cruising Fyrchk.)