People are always saying that kids grow up too fast, but I really don’t see the problem. Take this little minx in training. I mean she might not have all the moves of her 19 year old Aunt Candy, but she still got a little sum-sum to get the crowds reaching in their pockets. She doesn’t have enough for Barbie’s dream palace yet, but who needs toys when you’re living the dream? By the way, I’m pretty sure the Ukrainian Johnny Cash in the background doubles as her bodyguard when she strips. He’s all “niyakyy touching” till you show him coin. Then its game on till dawn. Fucking pervert.

Its nice to see an older person this flexible, but my question is what for? I mean is she stretching in case the bus whizzes by and she has to pull a Carl Lewis or miss bridge? Maybe she’s just training for when death comes a knockin, in which case she should just challenge Death to an arm wrestling tournament. She could probably go over the top while slamming a Schlitz with her pussy. This bitch is superman if he stole my Nana’s beachware.

Nothing bastardizes the sentiment of your credo more than putting it on a sticker. No Fear? Fuck yeah, no fear. The general thought behind the most obnoxious wave of bumper stickers since “Where’s the Beef” is actually totally legit. Can you imagine how different your life would be if you lived without the fear of consequence? You’d be like some dope monk, except instead of sitting around all day contemplating the meaning of a pebble, you’d be working in the career you wanted and asking hot chicks out on dates all day. Unfortunately, when you see a fleet of pickup trucks driven by grownup sized 9 year olds sporting the latest “check me out, I’m a badass” slogan, it sort of loses its cache. No fear suddenly becomes about telling a cop to fuck off when you’re drunk or doing an illegal u-turn or something. The D-bags that roll with no fear stickers are the same assholes who have “BACK OFF” mud flaps on their trucks and rock mullets without even a hint of irony. At least those guys can plead cultural ignorance, though. Remember the mid 90’s when suburban dudes would slap no fear stickers on their Geo Storms after they went bungee jumping at Six Flags? I swear I would have beaten those guys if I wasn’t so afraid they kick the shit out of me.

And why would you want to? This picture is great because the whole phone in the tub schtick says I’m goofy and accessible, but the eyes say, “I really am insane.” The real beauty, however, lies in the fact that some naked dude who I don’t even know has totally sold me on whatever the fuck he’s selling without using a single word. All shitty Jerry McGuire jokes aside, Shane really did have me at hello. Doesn’t he make you want to immediately drop everything, board a plane and go on 3 day booze fueled rampage with him? He should be the poster child for drinking.

I like that Ricky Martin now fancies himself a freedom fighter. And what’s up with our geologist friend in the back? Black market quartz may be hot as fire right now, but does that really matter when you sleep in the bed where your sister was raped?

Did you know that Gary Glitter was a pedophile? I shit you not, he was tossed out of the UK for kiddie porn, Cambodia for sexual offences against children and is currently serving time in Vietnam for child sexual abuse. Its crazy to think that the man who brought so many marching bands so much joy was into kids. If you’re lost right now, Gary is the songwriting genius behind Rock n Roll parts 1 & 2, the catchy sports chant you’ve participated in 1000 times where the band goes, “da da da da da” and you go “hey!” Like I needed another reason to think about child pornography at college football games. Thanks Gar.

Mommy, why does Santa Claus keep instant messaging me? He says to visit him at his house in North Carolina, but I thought he lived at the North Pole. I’m scared.

To all the mothers and fathers on Nanny 911 who can’t get their 7 year olds to go to bed before 3AM because they’re too busy ripping tubes and playing PS3, I present exhibit A. If this dude can train a fucking monkey to be cool wearing a JC Penny blouse while balancing upside down on a goat; and can get the fucking goat to agree to stand there and be used like a zoological jungle gym, then they can whip their little shit stains into shape.

The solution? Once again… Asians. They might not look so tough, but remember the hurt the Japanese put on us in WWII. I’ll bet one night with this guy could turn a household full of 8 year old Robin Williams’ into the quite, respectful Asians I remember from grade school. Plus as an added bonus they would be able to simultaneously balance a checkbook, play Handel’s Messiah on the piano and program your VCR. Now that’s what I call an offspring.