#VoteForKev2020; Stances, Platforms and Ideas Volume 1

A thought occurred to me at my town’s recent 4^th of July parade. There I was, 6 deep into my 30 pack, when a local politician paraded by. “Shit! It’s, like 2018! There’s an election in 2 years! And I’m running! I better kill these last 24 and get to work!” 

"America! Fuck Yeah!"

I’m starting to put together some of my campaign platforms; the issues that are important to me, as well as you. High level strategizing for sure. These are some of the ideas and stances I am working on. This of course isn’t everything, but it gives the thinking voter an idea of what kind of President you can expect me to be.

All political offices will now have an ethics clause. I know, how come this isn’t already a thing, right? If we can hold our athletes and celebrities to some sort of standard, why can’t we enforce this for elected officials? Makes sense. If a politician is found in violation of such clause (after due process through Judge Judy. She squares shit away in 30 minutes.), the offender is immediately relieved of his (and let’s face it, it’s probably a dude, anyway) position. And fuck these assholes trying to hide their criminal records, everyone is going to be transparent. To further reinforce this ethics clause, I am thinking of having the opposing political party insert the candidate of their choosing. Kinda fleshing this one out a bit for shenanigans, but that’s a pretty good twist, right? Speaking of political office…

Did you know Congress has off the entire month of August? Did you know the House of Representatives averages 138 “legislative days?” Those workhorses over at the Senate average a mean 162 days a year? By way of reality check, let’s just say the average American works 48 five-day weeks. Quick math on my phone tells me that’s 240 days. So how do we expect to get anything done when the decision makers work almost 100 less days? And yes, to be fair, there is some play in those numbers, click the hyper to read more. They’re all going to work more.  I can’t do all the work around here. And in fact, I won’t be doing all the work around here.  I will be very open during my campaign and say I will be taking nights, weekends, holidays and one floating hangover holiday per month off. I think that’s fair, and I’ll occasionally check email and the White House GroupMes. Don’t worry, this is when my VP will be working. You guys will be in good hands if the shit hits the fan on the weekend. You’re welcome, America.

"Ha! You get my vote over my dead body, Kev."
"That's OK. I can wait."

Two-pronged attack on smokers. It boggles my mind that in the year 2018, people are still smoking. Have we not got all the facts that smoking kills? And yet it feels like I am seeing more people smoking these days. (Don’t even get me started on the nonsense that is vaping.) While I suppose we should all be rooting for cancer to thin the herd here, it’s not happening fast enough. And here is where smokers piss me off even more; they’re GD litterbugs. It seems every genius I see sucking a butt takes that one last, glorious drag, then angrily flicks the butt like it ran over their mother. E-fucking-nough here. It’s not bad enough you poison your lungs, but you poison mine, then poison the Earth? How much of a flaming dickbag can one be? I will do everything to increase the public knowledge of how deadly this habit can be. I will raise tobacco taxes, with the revenue going to increased trash pickup and recycling programs. You’re welcome, America.

Dogs in every house. In fact, I plan to enact tax breaks for people who have dogs. More so if they are rescues. Everyone knows dogs make life better, we don’t need the Kevolution Theory Bureau of BS Statistics to tell us that. To fund this tax break, I plan to ax children. No, wait, I meant to say tax children, my bad. I don’t know why anyone hasn’t thought of this before. Kids are like, kinda free. You pay taxes on every damn thing else, so pay a few bucks for your precious snowflake that will only use up more of precious Mother Earth’s already limited sources. I may be persuaded to give breaks on other pets, too, like cats and hamsters and stuff. But I won’t kid you, I will need to be lobbied on that. Speaking of….

"Face it, the only thing uglier than this bed is your skank boyfriend.. I did you a favor. Good thing you have a coupla extra bucks because of me."

All lobbying will be broadcast on CSPAN. I think I have like 3 damn CSPAN channels now. I know I should watch them, they seem to be broadcasting important things. But CSPAN channels are right after Tru TV. And I usually stop there because I just can’t get enough of those darn Impractical Jokers! Larry!

But seriously, if you’re some sort of PAC or lobbying interest. And you wanna get to me, you are welcome to. It’s just gonna be in front of everyone else, so we can all see your intentions. You should have nothing to hide, big oil, tobacco, NRA, telecom, right? You’re welcome, America.

June 40^th is happening. Prepare. #YoureWelcomeAmerica

Cut cancer funding “Kev, you heartless bastard! How could you?” Ok, so hold on, let me clarify this before this gets all fake news and click baity. Cancer’s been around for a million years now, and for the life of me, I don’t know what progress we’ve made, if any. Sure, there are arguments to be made that we should really be addressing prevention and causation as opposed to curing. My point here is conservative numbers proffered by the KT Bureau for BS Statistics notes that approximately 40 kajillion dollars and 42 cents has been raised/funded/donated to cancer research, and what has that got us? Really, I wanna know. So, here’s how this works-

If you’re researching cancer and receiving funds, I just want to see your progress. If you’ve blown through a serious amount of dough and have nothing to show, toss off, wanker, you’re shut down. Instead, those funds will go towards another research outfit, subject to the same evaluation. It’s kinda clear to me we need some new, young eyes on this. These current eggheads in the white coats seem to be doing jack. #YoureWelcomeAmerica

All baseball games end after 5 innings. People are busy and don’t have time for a full nine innings of this bullshit. Also, I will strip it of the bogus “America’s Favorite Pastime.” That moniker now goes to Facebook. #YWA.

Earn those handicap tags. For my real job, (I know; occasionally posting funny ass blogs don’t pay the bills) I travel a great deal. And statistics I have calculated own my own extensive experience reveal 98% of cars that have handicapped plates/tags don’t need them. I can’t tell you how many times (actually I can, it’s like 98% of the time, duh) I see a car with the tag or plate scoot right into the handicapped spot and a very able-bodied driver springs right out. How fucking offensive. If you are driving around with a handicapped plate/tag and don’t need it, you are truly the worst kind of scum on the earth. It’s for people like this I hope karma truly exists and allows me to beat them with a tire iron until until such tag is truly needed. When I’m President, this is an arrestable offense, and civil beatings of these douchebags will be tolerated. #YWA.

Pass

You must be licensed to wear a bikini or grape smuggler. This is for your own good, as well as ours. #YWA.

Pass.

Hard pass.

Hard fail.

I will immediately revoke Pierre McGuire’s visa so he can no longer ruin hockey games. #YWA, but sorry Canada, that’s your problem now. Oh wait, he was born in NJ? GD it, OK table this one, but I will figure it out. 

"Ha! Nice try, Kev. Not today."

Fund musicians. Really. Music is very important to life. And every day, I am truly inspired by how many musicians I see out there, giving us the soundtrack to our miserable lives. Providing the joy, hope, solace, strength, inspiration that pulls us through so much. Yet it’s harder and harder for the truly talented of them to eke out a living in this age of I “Heart” radio, MTV not actually playing any M anymore, low royalties from Apple, Google and streaming sites, less and less venues to play. True musicians need to be fostered and encouraged as they learn and get better. I still buy CDs whenever possible; I’ll download when necessary. I will go to their shows and buy their merch, as long as it’s cool. (It’s a bad feeling when there’s an artist I want to support, and they have shitty merch.) To provide for this, I will cut back on useless government spending from somewhere else. Like the Olympics. Big deal, you won a gold medal in archery or skeleton. Now go find a real job, slacker.

“But, Kev, I don’t really like music.”

“First of all, that’s President Kev to you and second GO FUCK OFF AND DIE YOU HEARTLESS MONSTER. I WILL EXILE YOUR UNFEELING ASS SOMEWHERE THEY ALREADY HAVE WALLS. WE DON’T NEED YOUR KIND HERE.” #YWA

Acceptable. You may pass.

Pass

Officially recognize “Coconut” Roman Coke as the truly innovative and visionary writer he was. I know only 3 people get this reference, but it’s THE GODDAMNED TRUTH. I would tell you to Google him, but he did such a good disappearing act, there is no web dirt on him. That is truly humanity’s lost. #YWA

Uhh...yea...pass

Take a wild guess...

Driving under the speed limit is points. More so if you’re in the left hand lane. #YWA

Pass

Of course, this is but a sample of all my ideas, stances and platforms. I think you can see my progressive thinking here. For sure there are more difficult issues to tackle like gun control, environmental issues, education, immigration, health insurance. But you guys know this is a humor blog, right? Only so many serious issues I can tackle without some ha-ha’s sprinkled in. Rest assured, I will be working on these for the next two years to earn your vote.

As always, you’re welcome, America.

#VoteForKev2020

Bullshit Facts About Myself (Work Edition)

Open up work email; hey, we're having everyone in for a meeting! (Yea, I know, that's a rough open, but it's the best I can do on a Tuesday.)

And to make things even more douchetastic, we’re going to be doing-wait for it-ice breakers! I have been asked to forward three random facts about myself. As a struggling writer and accomplished asshole, I find myself conflicted. This makes me feel happy, because most edgy writers seem to have some sort of conflict that is fuel. The angel on my shoulder says to get in the spirit of the thing and offer appropriate facts. The devil on my shoulder says let’s make wild shit up. And since the bar likes to take this thing called “money” in exchange for the ambrosia that is “alcohol,” I think the angel wins out this time. But the devil is the one that mostly writes these blogs and my better stories.

 I mean, it could be worse. What’s worse than ice breakers? (You know you know the answer, you just don’t wanna say it.) Role playing! No, not the sexy kind with cable guys, pool boys or where the chick gets “stuck.” No, the kind of role playing where there are totally unrealistic situations and you respond by spouting out company jargon. Can we please just move past this? Isn’t there a PowerPoint we need to see or something?

And this is exactly why I need to be a writer; for the life of me I can’t come up with even three interesting facts about my boring ass. Instead, all these come out. So while I struggle to come up with three facts that make me seem like the Most Interesting Man in the Room and impress the lone hot girl, I will use my time by doing what I apparently do best; screwing around and making no additional money. Maybe my high school guidance counselor was right about me.

As I envision it, these “facts” will be read aloud in a cold meeting room.

Three swigs of whiskey, first thing in the morning, every morning.

I like to crop dust meeting rooms.

I think that people who look at Facebook while they are supposed to be working are big, fait, hairy losers.

I was the sixth grade spelling champ. (True). The winning word was apodyopsis.

This was quite popular in Catholic school.

Taylor Swift wrote a song about me.

There’s so many lies on my resume, I’ve honestly forgotten what’s true and what’s not.

I have eleven fingers. (Watch everyone else look around the room.)

I had successful gender reassignment surgery.

A year later, I changed my mind and had another successful gender reassignment surgery.

I write a wildly successful blog.

When I was a child, my class went on a field trip to the local zoo. We went into the snake house. No one knew that a poisonous snake got loose. Before anyone could stop it, the snake bit me. And then I bit that sunna bitch right back.

I see a shrink 3 times a week for what he’s termed “murderous tendencies.”

I’ve appeared on American Idol. And The Voice. And The Four. And Rockstar; INXS. And Nashville Star. And every other POS music reality show you morons can’t seem to get enough of.

Every pair of underwear I own says “Tuesday.”

I dated Ms. Wisconsin, then dumped her for Ms. North Dakota.

This is really the current Ms. North Dakota. Eyebrows kinda on fleek, but not too shabby.

I played pro lacrosse in my early 20s.

I was a professional foot model. (OK, inside joke, I once wrote for a blog under a redic fake name-we all did-and those last two facts were in my bio. Good times.)

Connor McGregor is afraid of me.

I was in a famous viral video. I didn’t know those two girls, but I did supply what was in the cup.

I wasn’t born in America. I was born in one of those shithole countries.

I have a patent for the 27^th letter of the alphabet.

I run marathons in my spare time.

I read every email and enjoy working nights and weekends.

I changed the signature in my email to “Holla at ya boy” and no one has ever noticed.

My last concert was Luke Bryan. He’s great. Especially when he’s wearing a cap.

Tell me there's some sort of machine somewhere that just churns out all these dudes that look the same.

I enjoy independent films in my downtime.

I find role playing a useful and worthwhile exercise during these meetings.

Best piece of business advice I ever got; don’t shit where you eat. And on an unrelated note, sorry, Gina, but it’s over. Stop sitting next to me.

Why Can't We Have a War Against Black Friday?

The war on drugs. The war on terror. The war on Xmas. It seems all we do these days is squabble (you’ve watched cable sports networks in the morning and afternoon, right?) and argue. We are so easily divided. Politics, racism, sexism, sports, soda brands, Twilight characters, Sammy vs. Dave, literature, news. And when we’re not arguing, we’re actually going to war. The war on drugs. The war on terror. The war on Xmas. We need to all get on the same page here, kids. And-surprise-we can do that by going to war. The time is now to align forces and finally wage war on one of the most evil events in our lifetime.

 Yes, citizens (of earth!), batten down whatever hatches are, it’s time we go to war against Black Friday.

(Alas, it seems I generally write this same thing every year, but every year, most of you nudniks ignore my advice. So, please pay attention so I can go back to my strong suit of sex, drinking and humor. BTW, “strong suit of sex” is just about any suit I wear, if ya know what I mean.)

Did you know there’s actually a holiday before Xmas? Over the last few years, it’s been a mere speed bump on the way to massive and unnecessary rampant consumerism. It’s like we’ve also lost the point of the holiday of Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is the day families get together, pretend to like each other and eat like feral pigs. Turns out what we should be celebrating on Tgiving is the day this great country was discovered. Even though there were other people living here. Some think we should no longer celebrate this holiday as it celebrates the day we swindled this country away from the Indians. That’s a blog for another day, there’s only so much angst I can muster up as I write this blog. Ultimately, we should feel no pity as the Indians got their revenge by turning us into problem gamblers. I am sure they already have a holiday commemorating that.

"I'll never win if the damn dealing keeping giving me Uno cards!"

We need to focus our efforts here. Let’s not get caught up in the semantics of “Merry Xmas” vs “Happy Holidays.” We have already moved beyond this being an actual ‘holy season.’ That line was crossed and battle lost years ago. This is no longer about the birth of our/yours/someone else’s lord. This is not the place for our individual religious thoughts. In fact, just about every religion approves this crusade. I checked, I swear.

Yes, this is the time of year every website runs a blog about the war on Xmas. Ho hum and bah humbug. But the bigger, more sinister enemy here is Black Friday. Let’s look at some facts. First of all, it’s about time to admit that BLACK FRIDAY IS NO LONGER A THING!11! Yes, sure, BF used to be a thing; back when Roebuck was still with Sears, Kmart sold smokes and I had dreams of being a professional writer. It just doesn’t exist anymore, despite what all the retailers would have you think. Black Friday is for people who never used Amazon. Or eBay. Or Honey. Or RetailMeNot. Or Groupon. Or a phone that is not hardwired to the wall.

Let’s take a brief trip back in time; before Louis CK, Kevin Spacey and George Takei were the bad guys. Take me back to Black Friday 2016. How much money did you save? Whatever you bought, is it still being used today? Did the $5 Blu Ray ever escape the shrink wrap? Hell. Do you even remember what you bought, let alone if it ever became of any use to anyone?

Look,” you people”

that just HAVE to go shopping on Tgiving night are inconsiderate, raging assholes. Now, I can see you getting all in a hissy fit –you really should turn off the camera in your PC-so let me explain. I’m not gonna present a problem without a solution. BTW, you assholes know you are the “problem” part in this equation, right?

First of all you are blowing off your family. And look, if I have to suffer, we ALL have to suffer. “But Kev, I spend Tgiving with my in-laws. My INLAWS!” Yes, I hear that a lot, and yes, I get your point. But that’s what the Jim Beam is for, and if you play your cards right, you won’t get invited back next year. Or ever. Plus, if you are one of my Southern readers, that one cousin is looking pretty hot.

Literally, the first image that shows up as "hot cousin"

Secondly, because you HAVE to rush out and save $2 on a dozen pair of socks, you are denying someone else of their Tgiving. Newsflash, you fucking ignoramus; those are real, living, feeling people working in the Targets, Best Buys, Walmarts and malls.

Now, stop rolling your eyes about the “level of talent” that works at Walmart. Talk shit all you want. In previous lives, before I got elected for another term-I spent some time with the employees in these stores. And these people are mothers, fathers, uncles, sisters, etc. And all for the corporate empire that you fucktards go fuel, these poor folks have to forgo their family dinner so they can deal with your ignorant ass. If a store opens at 6PM, do you think all the elves just stroll in at 5:55? No, dunderhead, they have to be there hours before, setting things up, moving things around and mentally preparing for The Onslaught of The Ignorant. And at 6PM, the mindless herd floods in. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

What shouldn’t be lost on you is that the people who make these decisions to open stores on Tgiving night, do you know where they are? Do you know what they do? They fucking sit at home with their fucking families. Probably figuring out a way to expense their Tgiving dinner and probably tapping their fingers like Mr. Burns all night.

The sheep, they come to me.

And Friday morning they sleep in while all their poor underlings work a ridiculous amount of hours for Black Weekend. Now, I will be the first to admit I have a heart as black as the night two miles inside a tunnel, but even ME thinks this is highly unfair. But, hey, you need to buy that piece of rapidly declining technology.

Here’s some more pipebombs; did you know just about any store you would choose to patronize on Black Thursday has this thing called a website? And did you know, more times than not, all those shiny BF deals can actually be had on said website? And usually you can get said, shiny deal anytime the week of BF? So you could actually dayload on Wednesday –or Tuesday, no judgement here-and do all your BF shopping online! Look at you being a decent human being! Go ahead and order yourself another Moscow Mule, son, you’ve earned it. Also, early reconnaissance says the Moscow Mule must be losing favor as the trendy drink by the abundance on Moscow Mule gift sets available everywhere.

And hey, if you’re now feeling all good about yourself, if you do have to go shop, how about sleeping in a bit, then supporting local, independent businesses? You have my permission. Also, I should note it is Record Store Day. You have my blessing to go support these fine, fine independent merchants. But if I hear you’re actually buying Xmas music, I will hunt you down and kick you in the balls. Don’t be a dipshit.

If you are not offended by all the Xmas commercials than have been airing since October 10^th, you just are not paying attention. Have you noticed what all these “holiday” commercials are saying? That your Xmas isn’t shit until you open up that last present (the subliminal message being all your other presents are shit) from Best Buy. Or that you haven’t had a good holiday till someone buys you a car. Wha wha what!?!

A car! Fuck you, evil multinational company. If I can spend most of the day sleeping, drinking egg nog and watching A Christmas Story over and over, it’s been a pretty good Yule at the Theory house. (Speaking of ACS, Fox can go fuck itself if they think I’m going to watch their abortion of a version of it.)

Really, that’s what makes Xmas “successful” these days; oodles and oodles of presents? There always has to be one “last” one or one “big” one. This rationale is why America is hated. It’s always more, more, MOAR!1!1 Be like a pig and be happy with the shit you already have. I have a shelf of DVDs I will never watch, a closet full of clothes I will never wear and a bunch of books with big, scary words that I will never read. Why do I need more?

If I wasn’t planning on being shitfaced drunk Tgiving night (Hey, don’t blame me, it’s a Theory family tradition and how we all tolerate ourselves for a few hours) I would go out and interview these nutcases who are waiting outside of stores on Tgiving Day. Here are some of the questions I would ask these brain surgeons:

If you waited outside a Best Buy last Tgiving, what did you wait for?

Random hot Santa girl, because...um...

Can I get a quick hummer in the backseat of my car? (Note; only asked to drunk girls who would still otherwise be attainable)

Where is your self-respect, man?

Does your tent have a bathroom, because you sure smell like shit?

What’s so motherfucking important that you motherfucking have to ruin someone else’s motherfucking Tgiving?

You know this store is generally open 363 other days of the year, right?

What’s more important; a shitty TV for $5 less or your dignity? Wait, stop, I think I already know the answer.

I’m guessing no one in your family is missing you right now.

Can you please tell me where you work? I want to drag your ass in buttcrack early on a holiday, and trash the place. I might be a little bit tipsy, too. But you’re probably cool with that.

I double dog dare you, NO, I triple dog dare you to take some of this money you’re saving and put it in the red bucket over there. Your move, Mr. Christmas.

“Boy, the line for the Asshole Meet Up sure is long today.”

Every piece of technology you’re buying today will most likely be obsolete by next year.

You’re the reason we lost the election.

You are why the terrorists hate us. Yes, YOU! (Shove my finger into their chest.)

You know this Best Buy opened up at 6 AM this morning and sold out all of the doorbusters, right?

Again, please, I beg of you, DO NOT go shopping on Tgiving night. Don’t be a sheep. Make a stand, at least one time in your miserable life. Just because you may have a job where you annually score this weekend off doesn’t entitle you to be an asshole to someone else on a holiday. Sit this one out, spend time with family and friends-at least the ones you can tolerate. But if you still feel the need to drunkenly and recklessly spend your money, please do so at any of the below links. I assure you, it’s easy, the money means a lot more and goes a lot further and it is actually something that is truly in “the spirit of the holidays.”

Alive Inside

Dale Earnhardt Foundation

Rape Abuse & Incest National Network

Community Crisis Services, Inc.

Philadelphia Animal Welfare Society

Everybody Is Not Crazy About a Sharp Dressed Man; My Day In a Tux

I hate tuxes. (I was once told in a writing class I never took, that your first sentence should set up your piece. And I think that sentence is a pretty strong example of that.)

So I have to get a tux for a wedding I am going to. Did you get that? Not in, but going to. What horse shit is that? I could see if I was in the wedding party, fine. But to go to a wedding? I will have to eat three dinners and just move my chair to the bar to begin to recoup my losses here.

I don’t know whoever came up with the idea of the tuxedo. But if there is a hell, I hope they are there, suffering the worst eternal fate possible. Like, I don't know; WEARING A TUXEDO! While being forced to listen to Celine Dion. In French. Suffer, you sick bastard.

I don’t like tuxedos. I have only worn a tux a handful of times as I have been in a wedding or two. I actually didn't wear a tux to any of my proms. BECAUSE I DIDN'T GO! And I don’t care what those whiny ass bridesmaids say, tuxes are far more uncomfortable than whatever garish nonsense they are wearing.

"Testicles are not part of the deal."

First, the whole process is quite demeaning. You have to go to some hawty tawty store where some handsy little jerkoff has to measure you. They give you a generic white shirt to get your chest measurements. I am sure they wash it after every fitting. They also make you wear a pair of generic pants to get those measurements. Note to the fellas; don’t go to Men’s Wearhouse freeballing. They will NOT like the way you look. Then some dude will run a measuring tape over various parts of your body. I am sure the broad who is Wonder Woman didn't get man handled like I did. I told my guy to not make the chest too tight, as I still had some chest days to do before the wedding. He looked at me and said “Do you even lift, bro?” Asshole.

So let me get this straight. I will most likely wear an undershirt. Then a button down shirt. Then a vest. Then a suit jacket. Then turn the heat on in the oven by restricting any airflow with a tie. How is this comfortable? How is this sexy? I’m pretty sure if you put one of those ghost huntery type heat cams on me, my pits and FUPA would be red. No wonder overheating drunk guys often take off their ties and put it around their head Rambo style. They’re sweating their ass off. I feel like an onion, trapped under layers. As the night goes on, I am sure I will begin to smell like an actual onion.

At least hide a bunny in there or give me those never ending hankies in the pocket so I can do some tricks or something.  I will need a thirty minute head start just to open the door to fit though when I am finished. How does one feel comfortable with 18 layers of clothes on? I feel like the Rock says; “10 pounds of monkey crap in a 5 pound bag.” And who in the blue hell wants a five pound bag of monk…..

"Damn it, Rock! I walked right into that one."

And, o yea, by the way, some other rank dude just wore this same exact thing, so do you really think it’s clean? That thought will keep me up in my hotel room as I sleep in between sheets with my head on the pillow, drinking a glass of water that is also holding the remote control.

This is way too dressed up for me. I am out of my element. I feel most comfortable in flips, board shorts and a well-worn concert T. If I can ever find a job where that is the dress code, I think I will have found my calling. Until then, the only thing I can tell you is that is not the outfit to wear to any job interview. If only Career Builder told me that sooner.

And tuxes aside, why do we need the tie? What purpose does it serve? Is it supposed to cover up the buttons or something? It serves little purpose other than getting trapped in paper shredders and pulling the wearer into a gruesome, yet compact death. Have they done that yet in a Final Destination?

(I've never seen the movies, but I am pretty sure this is all the good parts.)

"What's that? Aunt Cloris died? I'm ready."

I have exactly 6 ties

Fish tie-every guy has to own one 

A tie that is an actual piano that I won at Dave and Busters. Only cost me $67

A tie that lights up-for New Years Eve. And funerals, I guess

A Simpsons tie

A Loony Tunes Tie

A Jerry Garcia tie. What else the formal man needs, I do not know.

(Note; I don't know why the rest is formatted like this. But I am too lazy to change it, so just deal, huh?)

Look, I won’t bore you all the details. I went to the wedding. There were many other tools there, stuffed into ill-fitting tuxedos. We’d pass each other and silently nod, as if we were saying, “I feel you brother. You are not suffering alone here. And did you see the bozingas on the blonde bridesmaid? Woot woot!” 

I was hit on by almost every available girl at the reception, as well as a few of the “taken” girls. All because I had a tux on. OK, that is a lie. I didn’t get hit on at all, and three people thought I was a waiter. That’s OK, because I spit in their food anyway.

My shirt ended up falling out twice. I didn’t even use the cuff links, because who has time for that nonsense?  I took my jacket off, and walked around in the vest like I was some sort of hot shot Vegas card dealer. (I did make a cool 50 bucks playing the shell game.) My feet hurt in my shoes, so I ran around most of the night in socks. I found out the hard way the external pockets on the jacket were sewn shut when I tried to stuff some shrimp in there for the ride back to the hotel. And just because you are wearing a tux doesn’t mean you can pull off James Bond the bar when ordering your Malibu and diet “shaken, not stirred.”

The next day, I returned the tux. Now, you would think they would inspect such a fine garment from such a shady looking character, but they didn’t even bother. Guess they couldn’t smell the left over h'orderves in the pants pocket.

If you have ADD, you can follow me on the Twitter machine @ifyouseekev

DVD Bonus Material

Rejected Titles for This Post

No Tux Were Given This Day

How To Wear a Tux

How Not To Wear a Tux

Tuxedos Are For Cats and Penguins, Of Which I Am Neither

My Baby Fits Me Like a Flesh Tuxedo (massive internet points for anyone who gets that reference)

I Feel Like Taxidermy In My Tuxedo

The Best Super Bowl 51 Jokes

Wait a minute, your night ain't over, Champ. Sure, The Big Game is over, but the jokes aren't. Instead of posting all these beauts on social media, and them getting lost, I put 'em all here! In one place! So grab that Gatorade. Since I believe your recollection of the game to be "foggy at best" after all those beers, wings, nachos, poppers and secret shots you swiped from your hosts' liquor cabinet. I even have these chronologically, so it's like watching the Game all over again with your funniest, sharpest, smartest friend!  And here we go!

"I got the 0 and 0 block in the pool! Woot woot!"

PREGAME

Y’all should be protesting Budwesier because it’s a shitty beer is all I’m sayin’.

That's actually going IN to his mouth.

Instead of plowing down nachos and wings at every commercial break, I’ll be doing 10 pushups and 10 burpees. (This is how #AlternateFacts works, right?)

At halftime, the Patriots are leading and somehow the Browns are losing.

Hate on Joe Buck all you want, he could be worse. He could say, “Any now let’s got to Tony Siragusa.

"They're really hitting hard down here, guys."

The conspiracy theorist in me suspects the Super Bowl is just a front for the chicken wing barons.

Hmm, Eli Manning is at the game. Tom Brady seem mumbling, "ohhh shittt" under his breath.

I wonder if Tom Brady wore his "recovery sleepwear" last night? A true steal at a hundred frigging dollars!?! I don't think I could sleep if I knew I blew a Franklin on a shirt that was supposed to help me sleep in the first place. And why in the blue hell would you want to sleep next to freaking Giselle Bundchen??

"You spent how much on what??"

I appreciate that Spike is countering the Super Bowl with an all night marathon of Cops, then Jail. They just might as well do live shows from Boston and Atlanta tonight.

I wish Ving Rhames would narrate a day at my job.

Let's take a live look into what Buffalo fans are doing...

Aw, snap! You crazy Buffalo kids never change.

I don't know who Luke Bryan is, but I'm gonna hazard a guess he is everything that is wrong with country music and that's the first time he's sung without wearing a nasty ass old ball cap.

Is there any big budget movie where the world DOESN'T get blown up?

George Bush flipping a coin to make a decision is probably not the first President to do so.

FIRST QUARTER

Seeing as how I won a Fantasy league this year, I can imagine what these guys are feeling right now.

I am pretty sure that fly by was taped earlier. How would you know? 

Natty Ice better have some back end deal with Matt Ryan if he wins.

Maybe if they put as much work into commercials the rest of the year, they would sell more products?

Pretty sure today is Day 3 of a four day weekend in Atlanta and Boston.

Anyone else believe Arnold Schwa...Swart....Arnold has never played Mobile Strike in his life?

That's Julian Edelman's wife. No joke here. That's his wife.

0-0 at the end of one. BORING! Is there a hockey game on? I am sure all the Canadian teams are playing against each other.

SECOND QUARTER

Justin Bieber and Terrel Owens should not be on the same commercial together. I would think there's some sort of rule about how much "suck" can be in one commercial.

Freeman is the first player to score a TD. His jersey number? 24. That's some shrewd cross promotion there, Fox.

How late am I staying up tonight?

That is not the first time a good strip had lead to a solid score, ifyaknowwhatImean.

This game has been so bad, I'm actually peeing when Brady has the ball.Thank god this Dorito bag is empty.

After three holding penalties in a row, they really just call the next 3rd down "third and a hold."

Atlanta runs back a pick 6. Brady seen throwing a flag he had hidden in his jersey, looking for another holding call.

Did I miss the memo that said, "No funny commercials" this year. WTF? I can't do all the heavy lifting here.

"My eyes are up here."

This is apparently Danny Amendola's girlfriend. No wonder he usually has good hands.

At the end of the half it's Atl 21 NE 3. I wonder if that's the same score at the White House.

At the half, somehow the Browns are losing, too.

HALFTIME

Read my Gaga review. I swear, I don't know with the kids and their music these days. I guess Whitesnake and Marilyn Manson are passe these days. And I would damn sure check the field. A certain team could hide certain items to adjust the pressure of certain things in a certain way. But I can't be certain.

THIRD QUARTER

Sexy Mr. Clean will haunt my dreams tonight. What happened to the sickeningly skinny girls eating the calorie bomb Carl's Jr burgers for some eye bleach?

That's what I'm talkin' about. Quick trivia about these commercials; apparently there are hamburgers in them! I will have to watch again.

Atlanta scores another 7. It's not 28-3. Boston is ready to burn, Fox is ready to start 24 early.

Somewhere in a Kansas City Cracker Barrel, Andy Reid is going, "I like Belichick's play calling here."

Speaking of, Eagles fans are so desperate for a championship, they are now claiming Matt Ryan since he was born near Philly. No, dipshits, that's not how it works.

It only takes 43 minutes for the Patriots to score. AAANNDDDD Gost misses the kick.

Suddenly, Ryan's helmet stops working, he's sacked on the very next play. Hmmm....

FOURTH QUARTER

This game is just not good. It's not exciting, it's quite boring and the commercials suck. I guess this is what it's like to watch the World Series.

Pretty sure it was Dan Quinn who out Belichicked Belichick by flying Eli in first class.

Eli Manning; New York Giants Walter Payton Man of The Year recipient.

Eli Manning: Atlanta Falcons Walton Payton Man of The Year recipient.

8:24 to go and Atlanta turns it over for the first time in the playoffs. Brady sacked on following play. Drunks in Boston and Atlanta start to brown back in now. Amendola scores, Pats direct snap the two point conversion. We have a game, world still hates Pats fans, sky is blue, water is wet.

If I'm Dan Quinn (the Atlanta coach, please tell me you know that by now), I'm telling Ryan (you know who he is, right?) audible "OMAHA!" every play. Even runs.

Here is where the game will be won. If Atlanta plays to win, they will win. If they play to not lose, they will lose.

3:30 to go, Pats with the ball, down by 8. 2 plays and no flags against the Falcons. Pats convert the following 3rd and 10. The amounts of people calling out of work in Atlanta and Boston sky rockets.

Edelman makes awesome catch to keep drive alive. Anti Pats fans-you know, like everybody- groans like they've been here before.

This-no

This- yes

A million times, yes. And, oh yea, Patriots score, blah blah blah. Tie ball game.

The Atl back up QB bears a more than passing resemblance to Eli Manning.

And this is the first OT Super Bowl game. I'm glad I don't have any money on this game. Because I lost it all on the Puppy Bowl.

The heartbreak one team will suffer will only be made worse by the inevitable, hilarious memes that will soon follow.