Cheap and Easy Home Repairs Guaranteed to Increase Value

Host: Hello, and welcome to another episode of Improve or Move!, I’m your host, Bob Villa. Today we’re here at 84 Glyde St., in Toledo, Ohio. This three-bedroom, two-bathroom ranch-style house is 1,500 square feet and is situated on 2 acres of land in the prime, on-the-rise neighborhood of Prizraki Quarter, on the west side of Toledo.

This home was built in 1956 and seems to be situated above not just one, but 14 Indian Burial Sites, six Pet Semataries, nine burned down insane asylums, four orphanages where the children all died from radon poisoning*, two interdimensional Celtic portals (one straight to Hell, one to where the Cenobites live), 12 alien anal-probing encounters and is also the location of where Kanye proposed to Kim.

And yet, even with all that territorial bad juju, the family that moved in two years ago, the Maitlands, had not truly experienced anything paranormal until, well, just a few months ago, isn’t that right Adam?

Adam: That’s right Bob. About four months ago. We started to experience some spooky occurrences: doors opening, windows closing, chairs stacking themselves in impossible ways. You know, the base level stuff. We asked our neighbors if they had heard our screams of terror at night or experienced strange happenings themselves. They told us to just relax, it’s normal around here and it’ll run its course soon.

Bob: Did it?

Adam: Hell no Bob! Things just escalated. First our reflections in the mirror tried chocking us every time we brushed our teeth or hair. Next, the refrigerator tried to eat us. Then the elevator started opening its doors and gallons upon gallons of blood would come pouring out. This is a one-story house Bob, where’d the elevator come from?!

Bob: Was there anything else?

Adam: Oh sure. There was the knock knock…

Bob: Ah yes. Knocking on walls and whatnot is very typical of these types of situations.

Adam: Not knocking Bob. Knock knock jokes! Do you know how many times you can hear about interrupting cows or how “orange you glad I didn’t say banana” before you go insane? The jokes were so bad, they made the maggots the spirits put in our food seem subdued in comparison.

Bob: Maggots are a great source of protein. Anyway Adam, let me give you a quick rundown on what we’re going to be doing to your house this episode. First, we’re going to take out your cement driveway. We’re instead going to replace it with gravel made out of pulverized stone from the dungeons under the Tower of London. Those medieval cells were consecrated by Pope Pullum Stercore the Cowering. Let’s go over there now and check it out.

Hi Faustus, what can you tell us about this new driveway?

Faustus: Well Bob, we imported this gravel all the way from England. This stone has absorbed the suffering and pain of hundreds of guilty and innocent souls throughout the generations and as such makes a great “roach motel” for ghosts. Spooks check in, but they don’t check out.

Bob: Great! And over here Adam you’ll see that we adding Inca-era gargoyles to the eaves of your house. See how they’re spread out every 6.66 feet and basically circle the whole house? You’ll get excellent 360-degree protection with these babies. The glyphs inscribed on the base of each one is a powerful incantation. These grotesqueries will ward off anything from a low-ranking wandering specter, to a poltergeist, to little drowned white girls, all the way to demons from the sixth circle of Hades.

Adam: Why do they all look like horribly-visaged succubae, ready to strip the flesh from our bones?

Bob: They actually look like Kesha, and that’s to scare away solicitors and Jehovah’s Witnesses.  

Adam: Cleaning the gutters is going to suck now.

Bob: Come around to the backyard so we can show you what else we’re working on…

Worker: Bob! Bob! We’ve got a slight emergency over here by the air conditioning unit.

Bob: What is it, Gus?

Gus: As you know, instead of functioning as it should, the AC unit has been blowing the feted, putrid air of a thousand bloated, rotting corpses throughout the house. Well, the Voodoo High Priest who was supposed to come today and bless the unit with spells, chicken heads and incense, missed his flight and according to Santeria law, he’s not allowed to board another plane until after a goat has been sacrificed during the third full moon in one month. And we’re just not budgeted for that.

Bob: Okay, we’ll go with the backup. Bring out the Tibetan Shaman and we’ll set up the Mandalas. Easy fix!

Well, that’s about it today on Improve or Move!. Tune in next time when we install, for the Maitlands, a breakfast séance nook, remodel Adam’s study into a library to house grimoires to fight the forces of malevolence and we crank up the Holy Water Hot Tub out back. Remember: the Power of Christ compels you to have a good week. Bye everybody!

*The silent killer!

First Days Shouldn’t Turn Out Like This…

My alarm went off at 5:30 am. It was still dark, but I wanted to make sure I was clearheaded and prepared for my first day of work at Biff Co. Of course, I needn't had worried, sleep wasn't really an option. Too nervous. So instead, I just ended up just reading Jerry Van Dyke's autobiography: Don't Forget I Exist Too.

Fearing my lack of sleep would come to bite me in the ass later, I injected 300 CCs of caffeine straight into my jugular. A quick bowl of muktuk for energy and protein, (yeah, I know it’s a dessert, but I wanted to treat myself) and I was out the door.

I didn't have to be there until 9, and it was only a 15-minute trip, but I left my tree house apartment at 7:45 am just to make sure I didn't get lost and because I wanted to get a good spot. Plus, the bosses always like to see employees’ cars in the parking lot early, Never hurts to get in those brownie points.

Imagine my surprise when I got to the lot and the guard told me I couldn't park there because it was full. I looked through my front windshield and through the wire fence in front of my car. The place was so barren it looked ripe for two gunfighters to have a duel at any moment.

"Ummm, it looks completely empty to me, ma'am," I said.

"No, it isn't. Move along," she replied.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the early hour, but my brain couldn't fathom her words. I looked again. It was somehow even more empty the second time, like some kind of Bermuda Triangle of parking. In the end, I just turned around and drove aimlessly until I could find a spot. I must have been in the "Little Cybertron" area of the city, because both sides of the street were occupied by vehicles. Busses, cars, hovercrafts, segways, penny-farthings, there were no open spots. So I just put my car in neutral, opened the door and bailed, tucking and rolling.

As my car crashed into the orphanage behind me and exploded, I walked into the building and up to the main desk.

"Good morning. My name is Josh and I'm here for my first day as a Snicklefritz-Enabler. I was told to meet Dr. Brooks here for orientation?"

"Yes Mr. Hsoj. She's in her office on the seventh and a half floor. When you get off the elevator, make a right and her office should be the third door on the left. If you see Mr. Malkovich's office, you've gone too far." the receptionist said.

I got on the elevator and stood there scratching my head, trying to figure out which button to press until somebody else walked in and hit the button for the eighth floor. As the elevator ascended, I decided to be gregarious and make as many friends as possible, to start things off on the good foot, as James Brown once said.

“Hi, my name is Jo…” I froze as I saw my lift companion, my arm locked halfway to hand-shake position.

Firstly, I was looking too far up for eye-contact. And by too far up, I mean eye-level. This person was short. I’d say approximately the height of three apples stacked on top of each other. Secondly, he was blue.

“You’re a Smurf,” I stuttered.*  

“No shit, Sherlock,” he said, extending his hand to shake mine. “The name’s Ulcer Smurf. And don’t ask why,” he added, effectively shutting me down just as my lips were about to form the interrogative. “What department you in Fish?”

“Ummm, I’m in, in Snicklefritz Murders and Executions. I’m the new enabler.” I managed to say to, until a minute ago, what I thought was a fictitious piece of Belgian lore.

“Ha! Good luck Noob,” Ulcer said and then stepped off the elevator because we had reached his floor. I then pressed the button for seven and went down a level.

I eventually found the 7^th and a half floor hallway by flushing the third urinal in the women’s bathroom and opening a hidden panel. I made my way to Dr. Brooks’ office and knocked. The was no answered. So I knocked again. Again, silence was my only reply. As I turned to walk away, there was a knocking on the door from the inside. So, with a shrug, I said “come on in?”

Out walked a woman who had clearly stopped shopping for office attire after seeing the 1988 movie Working Girl. Her shoulder pads were big enough to make her a first-string blocker.

“Thanks for the compliment,” she said. “I have a special guy from Cambodia. He only sells me the finest shoulder pads.”

What the hell? I thought. Can she read minds?

“No doofus, you’re speaking out loud. You must be Josh, our rookie. Morning Rook!”

“Good morning Dr. Brooks. I’m just happy to be here working for Biff Co. It’s been a lifelong…”

“Spare me Rook. Get off the nipple, I already pay a guy to yank on my tits and he’s better at it than you. So let’s cut to the chase and I’ll show you what you’ll be doing here at Biff Co. Both today, and (baring any unfortunate circumstances) for the rest of your natural life!” she chortled.

And with that, she took me by the hand and we walked into an ever increasingly misty corridor. What was I in for?

*Wait a minute. How the fuck did a Smurf manage to hit the button for the eighth floor?!?!

Josh’s Notes: Ethan Frome, a.k.a. Sonny Bono ain’t shit

You know what pissed me off about high school? No, not the fact that we had to get up at “O Dark Thirty” To get there in time for the first class at 7 am or some shit. And no, not the fact that my lunch was at 10:30 for some ridiculous reason. And no, not my lack of fashion sense. That one’s on me, I don’t know how fashion or clothes work. I shopped from dumpsters.

No, what I hated were those stupid books they made us read in English class. Shit that no teenager in their right mind would ever read on their own, (except for The Cather in the Rye, that’s my second favorite book and I shan’t hear otherwise!)   

Typically, for these situations we would all do some ‘90s life hacks and just go buy Cliff’s Notes. Cliff was a smart dude. He made an assload of money off of lazy, stupid kids. God bless the American dream. And now, I decided to get in on the action. So I’m doing Josh’s Notes, for books that kids are forced to read much like Alex with his eyes forced open in A Clockwork Orange. And I will begin with a book that I recall to be especially lame (cause it’s got romance and girly stuff in it) and boring (because it takes place in New England) stuff all up in it: Ethan Frome.

Once upon a time, back in ye olden days, when there were more horses than cars on the roads, lived a man named Ethan Frome in the small town of Monotonous, Massahamprhodemont, the 15^th and a half state, (State Motto: Does anybody remember what color grass is?). Ethan walks around the town with a gangsta lean that intrigues some new dude who came to town to, I dunno, start a snow bingo parlor? It’s not important.

Anyway, New Dude is intrigued by Ethan and his limp, (bonus points to you if you can explain to me how that makes sense) so much so that he starts to ask the townsfolk what Frome’s deal is. Everybody, from the cobbler, to the blacksmith, the barkeep and the haberdasher, (those seem like jobs in the late 19^th century, right?). And people all basically tell him the same thing: there was a “smash-up”. And refuse to explain any further. Curiosity abounds for this cat.

What does a “smash-up” mean to you? To me it means two dudes charging at each other while wearing helmets and ramming each other like deer or any animals with antlers. Of course the guys would have to be drunk first, that’s just a given. But no. The real answer is even stupider.

But I’ll get to that later.

So one day, during a brutal snowstorm, (or as they call it: Tuesday) newbie is stuck in Ethan’s house overnight. Which gives him a chance to bug Ethan about his past, 25 years ago. Now keep in mind, this guy isn’t a journalist, he’s not a biographer, he’s just some nosey weirdo who wants to know why Ethan has a limp. That’s like going up to a “little person” and asking how they ended up being so short. Gauche!

Here’s where the icky romance comes in. Ethan has a wife, but she’s sick and a total load. To help take care of her and the house, you know, wife stuff, they bring in his wife’s cousin. By the way, the wife’s name is Zenobia, so you already know she’s gonna be a bitch.

Ethan and the cousin, Mattie, spend a lot of time together, working the farm, doing the dishes, playing Settlers of Cattan, whatever. And in their time together they both fall in love (gag!). But because this is stoic-as-hell New England, they’re too proper and uptight to admit it to each other. The best they can do is lingering gazes and the occasional brushing of hands when passing the milk jug or lice brush.

Eventually, even though she’s bedridden, (Except for when she’s not. Seems psychosomatic to me.) Zendaya soon figures out that those two got a thing going on and decides to send Mattie away and get another servant girl. Preferably one from Brazil who is immune to the cold and walks around the house in the skimpiest frock woven out of burlap available in 1895. That’d be my choice. 

As Ethan takes Mattie to the train station, they pass a hill that they had once hoped to sled down, because that is something adults love to do. Go sledding. As they prepare for a run down the hill, Mattie suggests a suicide pact.

Let’s break this down.

So far in the book, they have only kissed once. That’s it. They’ve never seen each other’s anything. They’ve haven’t done anything. The book’s author, Edith “I was never held as a child” Wharton, fancies herself some sort of American Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet never consummated their love either. Those “star-crossed lovers” and Ethan and Mattie all have the same mental defect. They’re all about some pure “love beats all” kind of thing where they only think about the moment and not the future. I’d love to see a Romeo & Juliet 2, where they have to get a studio apartment and Romeo tries to make it as a fortune cookie writer and Juliet drives for Uber and their landlords are Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, because, why not?

Eventually, instead of running away from an obviously insane, demented person, Ethan agrees. So, they hop on their sled, “Cool Runnings” and go down the hill, aiming for a big ass tree to crash into. As far as suicide attempts go, I give them points for originality. But I also have to take those points away for stupidity.  If you’re gonna go out, suicide by cop is always the best. Driving a sled into a tree is as effective as trying to slit your wrists with a series of papercuts.

Clearly, Ethan didn’t die. Also, Mattie didn’t die, awkward… But she’s an invalid and stuck in bed and now Zuul, or whatever I said her name is, has to take care of her and Ethan and everybody is miserable. The end.

So there you have it. Ethan Frome. Aren’t you glad you didn’t have to actually read it? Not a fucking ninja is sight! Join me next time, when I give notes on To Kill a Mockingbird. Or maybe The Davinci Code. Who knows?

Group Therapy Gets Results!

Dr. Gooch: Good evening everybody. I want to welcome you all to tonight’s SA meeting. I see we have some new faces here. That’s always good. Spreading the word of what we are doing is always a plus. We’re here for support. To help each other and ourselves and I think that we’re doing a good job. Remember, progress happens at your own speed; it isn’t a contest. Most importantly, we just want to share our stories and to show that we’re not all alone out there in the world. We’re a community. We have much in common and together, we can grow. And if we choose to, change.

In that vein, Fred, would you like to go first and share what’s going on with you and how you feel?

Fred: Okay, sure. Hello, my name is Freddy and I’m a Slasher.

Group: Hi Freddy.

Freddy: Hi. Ummm. So I feel like I’m kind of in a rut at work. Back in the 70s, I was known as the Springwood Slasher, and I was very proud of that. It was very early in my career as a Slasher. I was abusing kids and killing them left and right. I know what some people might say, killing kids is easy, but in some ways, isn’t that what makes it fun?

*murmurs of assent around the circle of chairs*

Then, after I hit the big time, I switched from kids to teens. It was great at first, I got a lot more cardio in, I got to explore their imaginations and express myself more creatively. But then, after stalking teens for the last 40 or so years, it’s gotten to be very routine, you know? How many ditzy blondes can a guy kill in their dreams? They don’t have imaginations! Their idea of a horrible nightmare is being a size too big when they go shopping. It’s so boring.

Jason: So true.

Dr. Gooch: Did you have something you’d like to say Jason?

Jason: In fact, I do. Hello, my name’s Jason and I’m a Slasher.

Group: Hello Jason.

I’m in total agreement with Fred. While I don’t employ the same techniques as he does, I do work in the teen field, more specifically, the vapid, horny verity. What’s even worse is that I’m hamstrung by pretty much only operating one season a year. It’s so monotonous murdering idiotic, sun-tanned teens in regrettable-looking short shorts every summer. Of the few times I was allowed to leave my usual spots, I pretty much just went to NYC and was killed before I got any good sightseeing in, or I went to outer space where I got killed before I even figured out how space toilets work.

Dr. Gooch: Well, it does sound like you’re both are just kind of going through the motions. Have you considered branching out? Maybe targeting smart teens perhaps? How about, say, killing kids who win science fairs? Or valedictorians only?

Jason: Gees, thanks doc. What am I, a bully? Come on, it’s 2020. That’s intelligence shamming!

Freddy: He has a point Dr. Gooch. While they may be stupider, at least jocks and camp counselors give you a little more bang for your buck. I once killed a nerd using comic book characters. It was so embarrassing, I almost quit right there.

Dr. Gooch: Okay, if that’s not to your liking, perhaps others is the group can offer suggestions?

Michael: Howdy everybody, you all know me, you know how I make my living. I’m Michael and I’m a Slasher.

Group: Hi Mike.

Michael: So, I think with you guys, you’ve both taken your specialization too far. You start with some kind of vengeance motive, which is both classic and an appropriate approach in our line of work, but you then limit yourselves by who you deem qualifies to be in a very small category…

Freddy: Says the guy who has been trying to kill the same sister for the last fifty years.

Michael: Hey! She might not be my sister, jury’s still out on that. Also, I’m pretty sure I killed her almost 20 years ago. I guess it didn’t stick. Anyway, I don’t just try to kill one person, I also kill everybody who gets in my way. While you guys like to hide and make your potential victims look like crazy, hallucinating morons, I just get straight to the point. I want to drive that car? Kill the guy with the car keys. I want that kitchen knife? Kill that housewife with a different kitchen knife and then trade up. You randomly have a William Shatner mask? I’mma stab you in the crotchular region and take it. See? It’s very fulfilling.   

Jason: You have a point, but also, you’re not supernatural like the rest of us. So you can’t afford the luxury of stalking on our level. The best you can do is hide under sheets or in closets for, like, five minutes.

Michael: Wow. Not supernatural. You had to go there? Way to rub it in Vorhees.

Pinhead: Gentlemen, may I suggest that you are going about this all wrong? The killing is only one aspect of what we do. We must always remember to bathe in the sweet mixture of agony and ecstasy that we create. Ours is an existence of both dark and light. The desires of the flesh and the exquisite suffering of the soul. To that end, you should make sure you have plenty of chains and sharp hooks and be sure that your prey is completely nak…

Group: Pass!

Freddy: Man, I’m a child molester and you go too far even for me. Stop mixing the pain and pleasure stuff!

Candyman: I don’t know, I thought he made some valid points.

Dr. Gooch: Okay, let’s put a pin in it there for now, and we’ll all come back for the next Slashers Anonymous meeting on Tuesday. Leatherface, I believe you’ll be in charge of refreshments for that?

Leatherface: You know it! I hope everybody is down with the paleo diet, cause there’s gonna be plenty of meat.

Group: Hard Pass!

Noshin' While Joshin'

Josh: They were huge stars in their heyday. Stars of music, television and movies. But exactly where are they now? That’s tonight’s topic on “Nosh with Josh”, the show where I interview a group of fascinating people, while offering them some yummy snack food, because my fridge just died and this shit will spoil soon anyway. 

(applause)

Our panelists tonight are some very interesting “blasts from the past.” And we’ll get to them in a moment, but first, let’s take a look at today’s noshibles! Here, behind me, you’ll notice what appear to be normal corn dogs, but instead of typical beef franks inside, it’s actually scrumptious penguin meat! Next to that we have onion rings. The interesting thing about these onions is that they comprise the entire harvest this year of the Fahrvergnügen Tribe of the Southern Amazon. They most likely won’t survive the year. C’est la vie! Lastly, we have a nice, light salad with spinach leaves drizzled with gold and tomatoes dipped in silver. It is entirely inedible! But damn it looks good.

(applause)

Now with the food being presented, let’s move on to our guests tonight. Up first is the original sexy, muscular man himself: Gerardo!

Gerardo: Hola. Good to be here, somewhere…anywhere actually.

Josh: How very depressing. Next, on Gerardo’s left, we have our favorite Big Fat Miposian Cousin: Bronson Pinchot!

Bronson: Hi Josh. By the way, quick question: what does penguin taste like?

Josh: Buttery, juicy heaven. But don’t take my word for it, mosey on over there and try a corn dog. As a special treat, the mustard is infused with Salma Hayek’s breast milk! Alright, next up is the adorable munchkin who knows the weight of a human head: Jonathan Lipnicki!

Jonathan: Thanks and hello Josh! Wanna know how much my DICK weighs?!

Josh: I can have security drag your adorable ass out of here with a snap of my fingers. Lastly and very much least, we have “That dude you know who peaked in high school!”

That dude: Hey man, good to…

Josh: It sure is. Why don’t you stuff your face with some food while the rest of grown-ups talk?

Jonathan: Well actually, I think he’s older than I am. I mean, I know I didn’t go to high school with that guy.

Josh: I can feel the migraine forming already. Mr. Suave! Let’s start with you. What are you up to these days? Still getting those residuals 21 years later?

Gerardo: Listen man! I’m sick of this! Ever since that goddamn song came out (in 1991!) People think my name is Rico Suave. Everywhere I go, it’s Rico this, Suave that. It’s never-ending. It’s inescapable. My life is a nightmare that only the sweet release of death can fix. I am GERARDO!!!!

Josh: Ha ha ha! I know what your name is, I just don’t care.

Gerardo: That’s the response I usually get. I’m not really up to much these days. Just getting by. On the bright side, it looks like acid-washed jeans with holes in the knees are coming back, so maybe I’ll be back in style one day?

Josh: Keep hope alive man. 

(applause)

Moving on to Mr. Pinchot, tell me sir, you were a huge star in the 80s, everywhere people went, they’d see your giant schnozzle on their tv and movie screens. How’s life treating you these days in Mipos?

Bronson: That’s both funny and original. For the last few decades I’ve been doing a lot of voiceover work, kids’ shows, video games, cartoons, I dip my fingers into a lot of different pies. Very lucrative.

That dude: Hey, I remember you man! You’re that Urkel kid! You used to say “Not the Mamma! Not th…”

Bronson & Josh: Shut up.

Josh: Well, I’m glad you’re doing well. Are you going to reprise your famous role of Serge for the upcoming Beverly Hills Cop 4?

Bronson: What? There’s going to be another…

Josh: Oops, guess I let the cat out of the bag there. My bad. Maybe some of these delightful onion rings will make you feel better. Chow down with glee as you think about how some kid with a distended belly is starving to death far away in the jungle. Trust me, that’s a better seasoning than salt!

Next is the little charmer himself: Generic 90s cute kid!

Jonathan: You can call me John for short.

Josh: Like it matters.

Gerardo: See? He’s an ass! He did the same thing to me!

Josh: Silence you! There’s a bar in the back if you want a cold cerveca.
John! My pint-sized man! What are you up to? Haven’t seen you in…decades, it seems.

Jomathan: Well actually, much like Balki…

Bronson: Hey! Some professional courtesy?!

Jonathan: Sorry, habit. Anyway, like Bronson, I’ve been doing a lot of stuff. I’m very much still in the game in Hollywood. My IMDB page is quite extensive.

Josh: Oh yeah? Name one thing besides Jerry McGuire that I’ve seen you in.

Jonathan: …Dawson’s Creek?

Josh: Thought so. Well, that’s about it for tonight’s episode of "Nosh with Josh". Join me next time when…

That dude: Hey, what about me guy?

Audience: SHUT UP!

Please Give Until It Hurts

Good evening and thank you for tuning into The Altruistic Nation Show here on channel 1998, WGYP, Your Donation Station, with the phrase that pays (us)! “We put the ‘ow!’ in endow!”

I am your host Sir S.G. Thuggish Killington III, Esq. here with you tonight for a very special episode. Of course, every episode is special as long as we are able to reach just one person’s heart, which we then bleed dry of all the money we can get.

Wait a minute, who wrote that on the teleprompter? Ha ha ha, folks, just a little in-studio joke. Moving on.

We know that for the past three decades Sally Struthers has berated you to symbolically adopt a child in a third-world country with a bloated stomach and not enough sense to brush flies away from walking on their eyeballs. All for the price of coffee. Very noble, very commendable. Very much a load of horseshit.

It’s all well and good to throw 35 cents a day into a mailbox and think no further of it, knowing that so shines a good deed in a weary world or whatever. But we here at WGYP feel that’s a copout. Don’t you really want to help those less fortunate than yourself? Don’t you truly want to make a difference in the world around you?

It is often said that charity begins at home and I, for one, agree. To that end, we at Altruistic Nation are offering a unique and immersive experience. Why just tell your bougie friends you’re supporting somebody’s life when you can show them! With our new Adopt-a-Sloth program, we won’t just send you a picture of little Abebyie in the Ivory Coast, we’ll send you Greg, the Philosophy major with hundreds of thousands of dollars in student loan debt to come stay in your house or apartment! You’ll feel the joy and pride that comes from hosting an unfortunate soul who picked a stupid major and can therefore not support himself in any meaningful way!

Who wouldn’t want the opportunity to clean up behind a slob who doesn’t understand what it means to wash their dishes, or that rocky road ice cream is not a suitable substitute for vegetables at dinner? Just imagine all the hours you’ll spend washing shit-streaked underwear and ironic tee shirts for some Hasbro toy line from the 80s! And you reward for all this hard work? The satisfaction of a job well-done. And, every two weeks, after Greg get his paycheck from Popeyes, it’s bong time!

If Greg doesn’t fit into what you’re looking for right now in an Adopt-a-Sloth, not a problem, we have many varieties of slackers for you to choose from. Our supplies are boundless!

For example, take Black Cherry. She tends to typically work nights and pretty much only needs a place to sleep during the day. Why not your bed? You’re not using it! Just make sure to have the sheets disinfected by a HAZMAT team.

Seriously, whoever is playing around with the prompter needs to stop before they get my Thuggish boot up they ass.

Anyway, Black Cherry is very gregarious. She loves to talk and has the skill (amongst many) to make it seem like she’s interested in whatever moronic garbage spews out of your mouth. And no, that wasn’t a teleprompter mistake.

Black Cherry has lots for female friends who may often come by to visit. She also has a few male friends who may also stop by for a quick drop in from time to time. Oddly enough, they’re all named John.

Another added benefit is that Black Cherry has quite the exercise regimen. She does a lot of cardio and core work and would be happy to show you her routines. She also includes pole dancing exercises, which will get you in shape and teach you the latest dance moves. As a bonus, you get one free drink per visit at Black Cherry’s job down the street at "Club Wax On/Wax Off". Anything more than that, be sure to bring cash, credit cards are not accepted. What fun!

And finally, if neither Greg nor Black Cherry are up your alley, for a limited time, we do have a third hopeless soul that you can reach out to and save: Crunchy Joe, the Hamburger Pimp.

Crunchy Joe is a special case and needs your help most of all. You see, he’s getting treatment at the local methadone clinic for his addiction to meth and he needs somewhere to stay during treatment and for those rare* lapses when he uses and comes down and needs a corner in which to vomit and shit and probably piss as well. Your house is full of corners, can’t you find it in your heart to spare one?

While Joe needs more attention than a three-year-old with two left hands, his actual needs are simple. Just throw a mattress on the floor and keep the fridge stocked with plenty of 40s of St. Ives. He should be able to keep himself occupied. As so not to rile him or make him angry and violent, keep all televisions showing nothing but cartoons, preferably My Little Pony, he loves that shit.

On a last note, hide all knives, scissors and other sharp implements and buy a safe to store all of your valuables. There are weird people out there these days. Just an FYI.

Thank you for joining me on tonight’s episode of Altruistic Nation and we really appreciate all of the help that you are putting forth. The giving. The sharing. The more giving, to me. You make this old Thuggish Killington shed a gangsta-ass tear. Please contact our operators at the number at the bottom of the screen to get the process started. That’s 1-800-Give-Now. That’s 1-800-448-3669.

Call. Call now. Call now or I swear to god you’re gonna be waking up with a severed horse head in your bed.

OK! THAT’S IT! WHO IS MESSING WITH THE DAMN TELEPROMPTER???!

*Not rare