Each year, the fine gentlemen Clark, Haz and Houck host a black tie gala known as the 303 Christmas Party. It's not a Hannukah party because Jews already get too many holidays. We celebrate Santa, Jesus and chicks with huge tittieballs. But most importantly everyone gets hammered and tries to bang their dates, and if a dude shows up solo then Scotty tries to bang him. It's like a key party with random skanks.

But the greatest thing about the 303 Christmas Party is being selected as the piece of hot ass that gets to show up on my arm. Because not only do you get to go to the hottest red carpet event on the face of the planet, but there's a chance you may get to have a sloppy drunk Burnsy trying to bed you that night. Boing, indeed.

First thing is first, though, my optimistic skank ponies. As we have learned in years past, the only way you're going to get an invite to the 303 Xmas dig is if you successfully complete the Burnsy 303 Christmas Party Date Application. Whichever penis envelope turns in the highest score receives the honor of being my arm vagina for the evening. However, keep in mind that's not a guarantee. Only if my annual celebrity hot chick invite is turned down will a lowly beef canyon get to accompany me. Past celebrity invites have included Kelly Clarkson and CNN News anchor Nicole Lapin. They both had an absolute blast.

This year's celebrity date invite will be announced Friday, complete with the letter that I might actually try to send to her. In the meantime, remember to fill out all of your answers with the utmost detail, especially when the questions deal with romancing my bone. And as always if you fail to sign the additional road head clause you will be eliminated immediately. Unless you have huge jugs.

Question 1: (237 points) During the party, a political debate breaks out and you notice that Burnsy is nowhere around to immediately conquer it and make the other people sound like idiots. Chances are he's banging someone else's date on top of the laundry machine. Do you:

A) Interrupt him, encouraging him to go set two idiots straight and then hope you're woman enough to handle the blue ball rage you have just incurred for later that evening.
B) Fake like you're choking and distract the two people and when they come to your aid, stab them in the throats and whisper, "You'll thank me later."
C) Take off your shirt and offer up booby shots for the next hour while Burnsy finishes storming the Labian Empire.
D) Interrupt him, encouraging him to go set two idiots straight and then keep the other woman "warm" while you wait for him to get back, then have a rocking threeway.

Question 2: (.000000000178 points) Use the following words to form a sentence that best describes why you would make the perfect date for Burnsy:

I
Really
Really
Really
Give
Really
Really
Really
Really
Good
Really
Really
Really
Really
Head.

Question 3: (6.2 trillion points) A train leaves Chicago at 7pm traveling 55 mph while a second train leaves Houston at 10 pm traveling 65 mph, but also making two stops. If the first train arrives in Portland at 6:30 am on the third day, and the second train is delayed two hours due to inclement weather in Colorado, what is the likelihood you'd be down for a train in case Burnsy needs cab fare?

Question 4: (4 points and a firm handshake) True or False — On May 29, 1979, at Brown Hospital in St. Louis, Missouri, a woman gave birth to a baby boy named Ashley Burns. Upon seeing him, the doctor's response was, "Ma'am, I don't know how to tell you this but your son has three legs."

Question 5: (37.7777777777 points) The following paragraph is missing some very important words. Pick the correct words from each of the listed pairings and pray to the gods of fiery loins that you get them all correct:

On Dec. 14, after having attending the 303 Christmas Party with the (cockriffic/manjuicetastic) Burnsy, I found it incredibly hard to (walk/not beg for another ride on his love monument) the next (morning/16 mornings). Men like Burnsy should be (worshipped/cloned to stimulate world peace) and every woman should pray for the opportunity to have his (attention/thunder prod) at least (once/30) time(s) in her life. I am forever (ruined/seriously ruined) for other men, because it is (impossible/absurdly unfathomable) that someone could rock my lady parts like that ever again.

Question 6: (1 points) True or False — According to the Talmud, the angel Metatron served as a heavenly scribe and was often God's representative to mortals, as God's voice would be too much for a mere human to handle. Hebrew scribes only added this to Jewish law after spending a night at a strip club with Burnsy.

Question 7: (32 points, but only if answered on a Thursday) On the way to the party, Burnsy's car breaks down, most likely because of something you did. As he tries to assess the situation and fix it as to still make the party on time, you:

A) Take your shirt off and give him a backrub.
B) Take your shirt off and call AAA.
C) Take your shirt off, fashion a tire patch out of the latex condoms you hoped to use later and then just give in to barebacking.
D) Take your shirt off, flag down another car, stab the driver, steal the car and invoke the road head clause.

Question 8: (Pi points) Word association — Just as dog:puppy or cat:kitten, figure out the correct answers to the following words:

Unprotected:
Liability:
Child Custody:
Paternity:
Payments:
Black Eye:

Question 9: (1,000,000 points) On a scale of 1 to 10, with one being the lowest and 10 being the highest, what is the possibility that you would dress as a sexy reindeer and later agree to stay quiet should any special requests be made for a saddle, lots of barking, whips, a trapeze, six elves, a Mrs. Claus dominatrix, a bear trap, poison-tipped blow darts, two sting rays, 10 gallons of Astroglide, a copy of Steely Dan's "Can't Buy a Thrill," 14 Japanese schoolgirls, a fire extinguisher and a black lady dressed in a mouse costume?

Question 10: (22 points) In 2,637 words or less, what would your response be if, while at the party, Heaven and Hell collided for an epic and final battle for our souls. After a horrific and bloody battle, resulting in the loss of billions of lives and as Lucipher holds God's fate in his fiery hands, the Dark Lord turns to you and says, "I will give the world back as it was if you come with me and serve as my slave in Hell for all eternity or you can take a ride on Burnsy's Mount Sinai one last time and the world is mine"? Please remember to footnote all Biblical sources and to write your response based on the King James Bible.

Dear First Daughter (I mean the cute one, not the scary looking one… I know you're twins, but you know how some twins have one hot one and one butt-faced paper-bagger? Well, Jenna's the cute half and Barbara's Quasimodo),

So what's up? This is how you're going to tell me that we're over? By getting married to some random knob? That's real adult of you, First Daughter. You could have at least snuck over for one last drunken, coke-fueled ride on Air Force Burns. But no, my dreams of marrying a hot piece of presidential ass dies with you.



(On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the hardest, how tough is it for a guy to get you in bed?)

OK, let me clarify first — you're not hot in the sense that I would gnaw off an appendage for you. You're not hot in the sense that I would go home with a manatee and pretend I was tanking you instead. You're not hot like, "Oh man look at the titties on that boner magnet" so much as you're like, "She's the president's daughter and she has two eyes and four limbs." You're cute, you like to party and you don't give a crap what anyone says about you or your father. You're like a Pi Phi.

And compared to the past few presidential daughters, you're Helen of Troy stuck in a 69 with the goddess Persephone. I mean, if you and Chelsea Clinton were kidnapped by Al Qaeda and for some reason I received the note and they told me that the fate of one of you was in my hands, you'd be on a chopper to DC before I even got to "Sincerely." In fairness, though, I don't really recall any other first daughters. I'd bet Millard Fillmore had a hot daughter because he was a damn handsome man.

The party animal reputation made you seem human, like you were the kind of girl I would walk by in a bar at the beginning of the night and then at the end of the night think, "Penis + Her = Okey Dokey." You were never prim. Never proper. There was that one time that you had a crotch shot show up all over the internet. Of course, thanks to the secret service that disappeared quickly. But I'll always have this one…



(Mary Abigail Fillmore is spinning in her cholera-plagued grave.)

So off you go, marrying Henry Hager, who sounds like an Amish pair of pants or the lead singer of a Van Halen cover band. Not to sound jealous, but this guy's a 29-year old business student. 29? Business student? Come on, unless he served in the war, there's no reason that he should still be in college at 29. That's really pretty sad. What's that you say? He's working on his MBA and he used to work for Karl Rove during your father's administration? Well, that sure is something. Oh, there's more? You dumped him a while back but now you're suddenly getting married because he allegedly put a baby in your beer chamber? Yikes, good luck with all that.



(In 20 years I will kick his face in for the Republican nomination.)

But it still leaves me to wonder how I'll fulfill my dream — nay, legacy! — of marrying a president's daughter and using that to catapult me into high political status…



(Reason No. 1 why I'm a McCainiac.)

Fuck off, Jenna. Daddy's got work to do.

Sincerely,

Burnsy

P.S. – You're only going to be hot for like five more months so live it up, preggers.

You know, I haven't watched much of The Bachelor: London Calling this season, mainly because I think the idea of finding true love through a reality TV-based competition is silly. I find my women the right way — Craigslist's "Casual Encounters" section. Hey, if JDate had a ww4m option then I'd just stick with that.

But I've been mostly aware of this season's Bachelor, not because I'm friends with one of the female contestants, but because the male star is British. Call me overly patriotic or call me a studly American beefcake, but I don't like these pasty limeys coming over here and banging and mashing my women. And that's all Matt Grant has done this season, rubbing the grease from his fish and chips all over our sexy Susan B. Anthonys.

On last night's episode, the Guvna had to narrow his choice to two from the actress Shayne (porn star spelling alert), the other actress Chelsea (looks like a barnyard animal) and the lovely and intelligent Amanda, who I am not friends with, did not go to college with and do not share dozens of friends with. Being incredibly unbiased and impartial, the obvious choice would be Amanda.

However, Matt has no taste and chose to give his roses to Shayne and Chelsea, leaving the demure and elegant Amanda wondering why Dickston Churchill chose not to pursue the feelings that he openly admitted having for her. Well technically he openly admitted having feelings for all three of them, but only American men are allowed to be in love with more than one woman at a time. When British men try it, tragedy ensues. Just look at Princess Di.



See that, William Shakesqueer? You're busted! You're a lying sack of British shite and I pray to all gods in the magnificent heavens (ed. note – God hates Britain) to make sure that both Shayne and Chelsea give you super herpes and you balls rot off. In fact…



There we go, now I'm ready to rock your Union Jackoff ass. Listen buddy, you don't come over here, after we bailed your pasty asses out of W-W-Deuce, and mess with our women. You can mess with our fatties, our uglies, our fuglies and our bridge trolls, but when you mess with our hot sluts, easy tramps and especially our classy and sophisticated women like Amanda, that's when I'm gonna take my trusty blunt shovel across your busted British teeth.

And look who you chose, a woman who looks like a goat and then this painful Jersey Shore skee ball skank…



Wait a second, is that Lorenzo-freaking-Lamas?!?! You chose something that initially came from Lorenzo's oil and spent nine months incubating in some clap-trap. The guy beats his women, so at least she was probably trained to be subservient at a young age. Good for you. I'm sure Shayne's acting paychecks will really give you a life of luxury for years to come.

Or you could live off of Chelsea's soon-to-be stellar acting career. I heard she's going to star in a remake of Hot to Trot.

Either way, it's all a lost cause because we all know that British men are naturally gay. Don't believe me?



Two words: Gay.

Tricia Walsh-Smith is a former Broadway actress and playwright. She's married to Philip Smith, who is president of the Shubert Organization which is the largest theater owner on Broadway. I had to look that stuff up because I have a penis and love chicks.

Except for women like Tricia. Because she's sort of coo-coo crazy batshit. Apparently her and Big Phil have been going through some turmoil and she decided she wants a divorce. Instead of using the normal route of a divorce attorney and counseling, she posted a video on YouTube.



And ladies, don't think this is just another time that I generalize women and say that your species is an endless line of cyborgs sent from the future to make our ding dongs cry when you melt our brains with your false logic and selfish predisposition to constantly compete with your friends, thus dragging us along for the miserable ride. Nope, I'm not bashing on women here. I'll let the handsome and debonair "obsidian468" handle that...  



I think this is pretty cool, though. YouTube should be used for more of our relationship tasks that would otherwise be handled like adults in a confrontational manner. So from here on out, anytime I meet a girl who tells her friends that I was an asshole or I treated her badly, when we both know it's a bold-faced lie, I'm going to post a video on YouTube about her. When a girl makes a scene in a public place with my friends present, I'm going to post a video on YouTube about her. When a girl tries to use me for money or tries to induce me into spending money on her or showering her with gifts, I will post a video on YouTube about her. And probably when all of this backfires and even more women refuse my attitude, calling it "childish" and "asinine" and "creepy," then I'll post a video on YouTube about it.

You may call Tricia a psycho or a looney bird or a nutty-slutty-boom-bah, but I call her a hero. No wait, I call her a woman. Yeah, that's what I was looking for.

Marc Brilleman is no Mark Burnett and he's certainly no Donald Trump. But he is a man who had a simple vision — creating a reality TV show that helps a group of women become better human beings. Oh, and locking them in a house and refusing to let them go or contact their families. Oh, and forgetting to tell them the house had previously been used for a hardcore sex web site.



(He makes the host of Cheaters look like James Lipton.)

Brilleman was arrested this week in Apopka, Florida, on charges of false imprisonment, and a trio of investors for his show, Pauper to Princess, are saying adios to their money because Brilleman and his partner failed to file any of the proper paperwork with the city, thus making the whole production illegal. A much lesser problem was the failure to secure a network to air the show or even gather any basic interest in the concept. No wait, that's a pretty huge problem, too. Yeah, these guys did a pretty shitty job.

The concept of the show is that eight troubled girls move into a house and are transformed into proper ladies, thus becoming better human beings and developing stronger self esteems and overall positive outlooks. I'm not really sure what happens to the girls as they're eliminated, but I'm guessing they kill themselves. Because, honestly, what's worse than being kicked off of a reality show that's not even on TV? I'm pretty sure it's the same as homelessness.



(What a rip-off, that's the same resort they used on Temptation Island.)

Pauper to Princess has its own web site, but beware of the technology blast you're about to witness. You can read up on the bios of each idiot. For instance, this is Katie.



Her strengths on the show were sleeping in tight places and not eating for weeks at a time. Sadly, she was eliminated during the "Don't You Fucking Cry" competition.

This is Brittany.



She excelled at saying unique things like, "This is just how I am, if you don't like it then move out" and "I knew it was going to come down to me and her, and I was in it to win it."  She was eliminated after missing the "Make the Producers Breakfast" competition because she did too well at the "Stay Up All Night On a Crystal Meth Binge" contest the previous day.

And this is Gladys.



She killed her competition in the "Feeding 11 People On a Fixed Budget" competition and totally dominated during "Make Sure to Get All the Way Behind the Toilet."

The producers remain steadfast that there is a place on television for Pauper to Princess and they plan to file the proper paperwork this time and begin filming the second season as soon as they can find eight girls stupid enough to fall for this shit again. Taping begins next week.

The more I try to figure out why Paris Hilton is considered a celebrity, the more I see myself slipping into dementia at an early age. I don't think about it too much anymore, what with The Hottie and the Nottie grossing something like $17 per screen in theaters and the fact that she's dating Benji Madden from Good Charlotte and he's about as punk as one of my J. Crew neckties.

But leave it to MTV to continue to make millions of teenage girls think that cum-guzzling, lazy-eyed, spoiled bitches are icons. Despite a delightfully poor turnout to open casting, Paris' new reality show I Wanna Be Paris' New Best Friend is chugging along, now in round six of its Internet voting and casting competition.

I'm a little speechless as to why MTV thinks this crap deserves six rounds of Internet voting. And it appears that it'll keep going long after that. But the good news is that the chances are strong that Paris' new BFF will end up looking like "sanchez1980" here…



Or whatever "Tshair" is…



Chances are, though, it'll end up being someone like "Jonnymakeup"…



I don't even need to watch one of his videos to know he's obnoxious.

A small part of me is holding out hope for my old friend Tay Zonday, who is steamrolling with 117.069 votes, while, of course, being one of the greatest Internet singing sensations in the history of mankind.

Not having internet over the weekend, thanks to a crappy burnt out wireless card, I didn't have a chance until this morning to read the Orlando Sentinel's latest attempt to keep the dead awake. I'm not making light of the passing of UCF wide receiver Ereck Plancher, whose incredibly unfortunate situation I have stayed quiet about out of respect. This Shannon Whoever column digs up the corpse of Steven Moffett, who is apparently sucking up the joint for the AFL 2 Daytona franchise.

I read the column, thought it was crap. You should know by now, that while I may make a few jokes here and there I don't hold any ill will toward the Sentinel for never giving me a shot to write sports for them. If not for them favoring unqualified black females like Jemele Hill, Shannon J. Owens (the J is for Journalism!) and Kyle Hightower, then we'd never be continuously reminded how awful white people are.

But this recent string of articles related to Ereck's sad passing is just pathetic. The poor kid's family is enough as it is, but George O'Leary, and I dont really care what you think about him because he's still a human, is being dragged through the mud for no reason. Well a bunch of you called and texted yesterday to get my opinion and I went ahead and sent this long email to Lynn Hoppes and Mike Bianchi at the Sentinel.

Subject: I guess I should have expected this by now

I'm sure your mailboxes are full, but after Mike called me last week and I lied to him about not having any information, and then reading everything you guys have printed these past few weeks, I just had some things to get off my chest.

I'm sure you guys are getting a kick out of the response from all of the Plancher articles, and I don't expect anything less so I know better than to get worked up over this, but I was curious about something since everyone else seems to be ignoring this. Why wasn't this kind of attention and investigative journalism dedicated to Keeley Dorsey last year? I'm not asking this because of a UCF/USF connotation, God knows this is neither the time nor the topic for that. I'm asking because I can't find any article before Erick's death in the Sentinel archives involving Keeley Dorsey's death or even Bradley Mosley's death from 2005.

I just think for such a harrowing topic that is so wide open for scrutiny in something as ignorantly and naively competitive as college football, to the point that you actually allow people with distaste for UCF to post horrible things about a young man's death in comment threads, that no one man's death should raise more questions than another. Dorsey's death came and went, because I remember feeling sad that there wasn't more information to it. And it's unfortunate that a situation like his doesn't raise more red flags or even eyebrows. If a seemingly healthy guy like Keeley could float through his young life as an athlete with such a serious heart condition, then it could happen to anyone, right? I'm sure you're getting your fair share of "You're not even waiting for the autopsy report" e-mails and letters, but wouldn't it be equally compelling and more informative to contact sports medical experts and find out why these things fly under the radar and why they seem to be popping up at an alarmingly steady rate over the past decade?

I know you guys could care less and you're accustomed to the criticism, but I defend you guys a lot because the Sentinel was all I had to guide me early on when I though print media was my career destination. I looked up to you guys, despite the fact that it drove the more rabid UCF fans insane, because they liked their black-and-gold-blinded-Burnsy to keep hydrated with the Kool Aid. And I've all but fallen out of love with UCF these past few years, not because of these events but because of the way they treat students like numbers and the fact that Keith Tribble has no more business running my sports programs than he does pouring me an Orange Julius, but I know how the players feel and what most of them are busting their tails for, and I respect that.

That's why when this happened I called a few of the former players I knew who had still been hanging around and asked them what went wrong. Their answer is basically what I expected: "It was no different than anything we'd ever been a part of" and "George is a hardass but he gets the best from us." And when you called me, Mike, I probably could have told you that and they probably would have let you run their names, but I just didn't feel like it was my place. I just don't understand what makes this all the more attractive for criticism and "what ifs" — is it because of George's reputation and the media's love affair with continuously deconstructing a fabled liar? Is it because it's a school that poured so much money and effort into creating a shot at succeeding in athletics in a time that is already too crowded with up-and-comers? Or is it because you guys really believe there is something to this, that the school is protecting a desperate, old white man, who punished players like Steven Moffett with verbal lashings and alleged physical abuse (once a rumor, later denied by Moffett in a private, social setting)?

I've honestly never been this upset over something the Sentinel has done. Not since that first e-mail I sent to Mikey years ago about my displeasure with the Sentinel's "anti-UCF agenda," back when my lips were black and my tongue was gold, have I cared about anything the Sentinel has written. I always got a chuckle out of people accusing Jemele Hill of being anti-UCF, when she was merely ignorant of everything involving the university, and simply a reminder of how horrible I am for being white. My friends and I get a kick out of Kyle Hightower's little mistakes, like forgetting who the tallest player in UCF basketball history was or even how to spell some players' names. I certainly have never expected perfection out of you guys, but if I was still that same bright-eyed kid, who was being cursed at by his editorial adviser and publishers because he was making mistakes running his college newspaper, and I still looked up to you guys for guidance, I'd be ripping my hair out right now.

I may have been a lackluster student at UCF, but I took my newspaper seriously. The first lesson I ever learned was you don't publish an article with anonymous sources because it questions credibility, and in an issue of accusations and blame you will need to call upon the sources should the need to protect yourself arise. Another very important lesson I learned — over and over and over — was that you should never publish a story that only uses one source, even if it's an opinion piece. I've seen both of those rules tossed out the window this week. If I had taken one of the major daily jobs I was offered instead of choosing to pursue magazines, and I read these articles, I think my brain would have exploded like the guy in Scanners.

And I hate to sound like the rest, but as someone who tried so hard to learn journalism the hard way, I am so deeply disappointed by the Moffett column. It is a column, isn't it? I couldn't even tell. It was just so poorly written, and coming from someone who spends his days incorporating fart jokes into blogs about reality television, that should say something. You guys know just as well as I do what kind of quarterback Moffett was, and this is coming from someone who covered him and published his continuous glowing praise of O'Leary. I can't believe that Shannon overlooked that, or that someone at the Sentinel didn't catch that.

I'm never going to be one of these clowns who says something like, "I'm never reading the Sentinel sports section again." But now I'm not lying when I joke around with Scott Maxwell that he's the only thing I regularly read in the paper. I hope you guys got what you wanted out of this. I guess my point is that I just can't tell what you're trying to get out of this.

Sorry for ranting. I guess, for once, you can color me disappointed instead of black and gold.

Pamela Anderson has become the latest celebrity to forfeit her fame* and whatever dignity** she has left as she has signed on to do a reality show for E! in which she will chronicle — get ready for this, it’s a creative blast to your face — how she balances her personal and professional life.



(She looks like she smells like turned fish.)

Anderson, of course, recently had her marriage to Rick Salomon annulled. You may remember Salomon from his stirring performance as the Eiffel Tower in One Night in Paris. Originally, Anderson and Salomon (ed. note – I feel filthy just writing his name) were going to do a reality show together about the joys of being newlyweds. Unfortunately, they soon realized that a marriage based on Anderson spreading her 40-year old hepatitis cave for Salomon to cover a poker debt surprisingly isn’t destined for success.

Despite vowing to follow her daily life, personal and professional, the show will not feature anything involving Anderson’s two sons. It will also not involve ex-husband Tommy Lee or any of her relationship with Salomon. In fact, it’s basically going to be about her stint as a magician’s assistant for some show in Vegas. I don’t know much about magic, but I know that if I were hanging from the edge of a cliff by my testes pouch and Cris Angel and David Blaine reached their arms over to help me up, I would cut my balls off and fall to my death.

This show of course follows hot on the heels of E!’s new reality series featuring Denise Richards struggling to balance her professional life as well as her role as a single mother and another show that showcases Dina Lohan’s parenting skills. I think the reason Anderson’s kids won’t be featured is because social services would legally have to shut down the entire network.

E! representative Lisa Berger justified the show: "Pamela Anderson is one of the most captivating personalities in pop culture today." It should be noted that Berger thinks this is 1997. The show’s production company says that it will be "artistically rich" and "visually stunning" and shot in a way that makes the viewers think they are watching a documentary. Just to be clear, this is a show about he daily life of a 40-year old woman, who is half human and half plastic, has hepatitis, voluntarily had sex with Kid Rock and works as a magician’s assistant in Vegas.

Truly, Fellini would be in awe if he were still alive.

* She’s 40-years old, has never been in a good film or TV show and got hepatitis from her on-again-off-again lover and ex-drummer of Motley Crue. I think this star faded quite a long time ago.

** She gave 82-year old Hugh Hefner a private lapdance for his birthday. She never had dignity.

I haven’t always been a cool guy. I know, I hate starting off your morning with a shocking revelation, so if you’re choking on your breakfast or your tongue, I’ll give you a second to recover before I proceed.

Yes, I, King Burnsy the Wangnificent, was once a bit of a nerd. Sure, I always masked it well with my Hall of Fame baseball abilities and my cool, edgy, witty, in-your-face writing style. But deep down I had my love for baseball cards and comic books, Sci-Fi movies and Star Wars action figures, and especially my crushes on Lisa Loeb and Andrea from 90210. I went to Bible camp, participated in Odyssey of the Mind, had all gifted classes growing up and I helped found my middle school’s ultra VIP Lab Technicians Club. In my defense, there were dead animals in jars in that classroom and my only goal in life was to steal one.

As I’ve now reached this highest echelon of coolness, I look back on my secret nerd life with fond memories. Except for the times I was made fun of and when girls ignored me. That sucked and I hope those rotten whores die. Other than that, it was a large part of the man I’ve become. And every once in a while I like to give back by working with groups of nerd children and teaching them that they can revel in their uniqueness as long as they know that the result has to be making billions of dollars because otherwise they will never touch a titty.

Last week, I was fortunate enough to hang out with some real cool kids (Read: fucking dorks) as they spent their Spring Break having their own brand of fun at the BattleBots I.Q. Spring Break at the UCF Arena. I brought back some photos of my memories, as well as recorded some of the very interesting conversations I overheard…

Brett "Buzz" Dawson, host of TV’s Robot Rivals, was a great teacher for the kids. He was especially great about incorporating life lessons into his robotics instructions.



Dawson: "This is a tube, kids. I’m only showing you this because you are going to spend a lot of your life playing with your tubes, and I am not talking about robotics."

One young man found another use for his tube.



Kid: "Hey, from here I can see all the cool kids playing sports and talking to girls outside."

Some of Buzz’s lessons were a little more serious, though, but entirely appropriate and beneficial, not just to these kids, but to the jocks and cheerleaders in their classes.



Dawson: "Always remember, kids, that we have programs like this so you don’t decide to show up to your school one day with a shotgun under your trenchcoat. I’m looking at you, long hair. Stuff like this is going to make you rich and powerful one day and that’s when you use your fortunes to bang hot sluts half your age and then have the jocks who bullied you reduced to fat alcoholic staples at the welfare office."

These kids are incredibly intelligent, though. I can’t take that away from them. I took a look at one kid’s notes and then compared them to mine. I mean, these kids are light years ahead of me.

Kid’s notes:



My notes:



Along with all of the fun, perhaps the most important aspect of this workshop was the friendship. And friends were made indeed! These two boys became best of friends as they talked about their girlfriends back home.



Boy1: "Yeah, I met my girlfriend on the Internet. She lives in Milan and is a gorgeous supermodel. She’s always traveling, which makes it really tough on us, but she loves me and I trust her."
Boy2: "I hear you, man. I met my girlfriend in a Battlestar Gallactica chat room, which I thought was a really odd place for a Victoria’s Secret model to be hanging out, but she knows her stuff. She lives in Argentina and is always on the road promoting lingerie, but she said she’ll fly me to Paris over the summer."

But romance wasn’t just discussed at this special Spring Break, it was made.



Young Horace Klyznewski had never known this strange feeling in his stomach before. It was like a thousand butterflies dancing the Nutcracker Ballet. What happened between him and Cindy Nelson was something he would never forget indeed. You see, she didn’t know the strange feeling in her stomach either, but she was carrying their own BattleBot of love.

In the end, though, friends were made, a love was established, lessons were learned, and, most importantly, some robots were built.



Now I don’t know the results of the final competition or if it was just a case of "Everybody’s a winner." I was too busy completing my female sex robot. But I do know this, any robot named Recyclotron always loses.

The wonderful anti-American hippies at PETA (Pussies for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) have reached out to the Washington Nationals (Montreal Expos to us real Americans) and asked that the team’s management rent its new stadium’s naming rights to the pro-vegetarian group.

These people…



… want the responsibility of naming this:



Because it makes perfect sense.

PETA suggests that while the franchise awaits an eventual corporate sponsor for the stadium, the Nationals (Expos) can agree to call Nationals (Expos) Park GoVeg.Com Field. In fact, here’s PETA’s very rational and reasonable points for why the Nationals (Expos) should do this in a brief press release excerpt:

"PETA believes that the name would be a good fit since PETA got its start some 28 years ago in Washington and the Nationals Park already features several vegetarian options for health-conscious and animal-friendly baseball fans. Newly vegetarian sports fans will keep coming out to the ballgame long after their hotdog-chomping counterparts have succumbed to heart attacks, strokes, and cancer."

If I were President (Prime Minister) of the Nationals (Expos), I wouldn’t just rent them the rights, I would permanently give them the rights. I mean, their logic is flawless. Vegetarian sports fans = Immortal. Carnivorous sports fans = Life span of 12 years and a drag on the health care industry. There you have it, meat-eaters are awful sports fans. We let our teams down by dying. In fact, I had six strokes since I had my chicken sandwich at lunch.

Here is the official letter from a PETA representative to the Nationals. I’ve taken the liberty of adding some notes to it. You know, in case your piece of shit organization ever wants to harass a company that has never done anything to you.

Dear Mr. Kasten:

On behalf of PETA and our more than 1.8 million members and supporters (including many in the D.C. area) 1.8 million members, really? That’s it?, I’m writing regarding recent media reports that you haven’t yet found a corporate sponsor to purchase naming rights for Nationals Park Or perhaps they’re keeping a fan-friendly name for the inaugural season. While PETA, as a charity or collection of assholes, cannot afford this multimillion-dollar advertising opportunity Why is that? Because of your constant belittlement and criticism of corporations?, we would like to propose that you rent us the rights until you find a permanent sponsor Your optimism is almost as beautiful as a steak stuffed with lobster. For that interim period, we would call the stadium GoVeg.com Field Or Pussyfart Crybaby Stadium, either or. See the proposed design (attached) I imagine it is shaped like a starving child who needs the protein offered by red meat.

GoVeg.com Field would be an ideal new name for Nationals Park for many reasons Or none. The stadium already offers a good selection of vegetarian food Like beer and nachos, such as a tasty new veggie burger That will be discontinued next season. (Last year, the Nationals earned an honorable mention in our ranking of vegetarian-friendly ballparks.) Ooh la la! Honorable mention, where’s my monocle and top hat? The Nationals have been working hard to minimize the environmental impact of the new stadium Read: Fudging numbers, and promoting a vegetarian diet to fans fits perfectly with this goal If that goal is spreading faggyness (a recent United Nations report concluded that the meat industry causes almost 50 percent more greenhouse-gas emissions than all the cars, trucks, SUVs, planes, and ships in the world combined.) Nobody reads reports Of course, many fans who care about the environment also care about animals Yes, their dogs. And every vegetarian saves more than 100 animals each year from being abused, including by being intensively confined and having their throats slit while still conscious Something that should be done to whiny vegans.

The Nationals want their fan base to be healthy So they can keep getting paychecks and buying tickets. Because vegetarians are less prone to heart disease, obesity, and various types of cancer BULLSHIT, vegetarian options will help them cheer on the Nationals for many seasons to come FACT: Hippies don’t like sports. Finally, the new stadium name would put the Nationals on the cutting edge Read: laughing stock of the growing trend toward vegetarianism among elite athletes — Prince Fielder, Salim Stoudamire, Tony Gonzalez, and Carl Lewis Fat ass, nobody, old balls, off the face of the Earth are just a few of the athletes Read: Only who have ditched meat in favor of humane, healthy fare Read: Tasteless and testified that their performance has improved as a result No they haven’t, Prince Fielder just started his vegetarian diet, his results are inconclusive.

Sincerely,

Danielle Shannon

Assistant Director, PETA