Rioters

Ever pull your hamstring and sprain your wrist while trying to escape from a mob at Ted Greenberg's off broadway show? Well, you wait yet. Those people are superbly intelligent fun loving and secretly untameable animals. This is the before shot. I am typing this with one hand and an eye patch.

my conquest of last Saturday night

In fact, yes, this hot chick.

Hot chick & demystification

This hot chick totally fawning over me is an oil tycoon in Mesopotamia.

Eastern European Sausage Party

An unemployed war photographer took this picture after last Saturday. I am pretty sure the guy in blue used to be the President of Georgia.

Open Bar Saturday

Greenberg is trying to kill me. Whenever he has open bars, the audience starts gettinga little too wild. Like less playful domesticated puppy dog-wild, more foaming at the mouth scary baby you found in the woods-wild.

But do they get more wild than the mascot, you ask?

1. of course not because
2. I have a slingshot and a drinking problem.

The end!

Boycott the New York Times

This article about mascots in the New York Times is the last straw. It's an article about "mascots" with no mention of the Burger Method or ME. It's just a profile about bullshit foamy costumes. It had so little substance I'm surprised that seven foot tall blonde Style lady didnt write it.

And FYI, I went to Mascot Academy with the Rooster in this picture and he has forty five nipples.

Society, sucking of

I think I can draw some major sociological conclusions just by looking at the people who decide not to have sex with me. Everyone under 30 is hot but clearly demented. Notice these 2 pictures: Before, without Greenberg: hot girls totally not interested in me. After, with Greenberg: hot girls still totally not interested in me.
I dont even need to mention the Herbinger Stuidy where it was found that 5 out of 7 children born in the tri state area in the 1980s were cocaine babies.

Correction.

I mean to say: "Misters Strunk" not Mr. Strunks.

Answers to Your Questions

First of all, yes, I have been "in a cave" the past 2 weeks. If by "in a cave" you mean emotionally recuperating from getting laid off at my part time gig as the Salvation Army mascot. All the better: more time to devote to BTM!

Second of all: No. I'm not "developmentally delayed", I just can't talk during my performance in THE COMPLETE PERFORMER. Even the pelvic thrusts are carefully thought out.

THIRD OF ALL, all you MR STRUNKS out there: YES, SOMETIMES I FORGET TO TAKE OFF CAPSLOCK. so what.

Bill Bradley and his mistress

Me, another hot chick, and the cockblock of the evening

See the way she's looking at me? You would think this would have ended at my apartment with her in my arms. Yes. Well 2 seconds after this was taken, Playboy Greenberg grabbed her ass and she fled.

Me and a hot chick, otra vez

And yes, I like them both equally.

MOST IMPORTANT CORRECTION

I have been informed by Greenberg that the two people to the left and right of me are not "ladies".

First of all, thanks a lot, smarty pants.

Second of all, an explanation for non-performers: the hour or two after a show is sort of like the hour or two after eating four boxes of Frosted Flakes. You're still a little messed in the head. You make questionable decisions. Sort of like you're temporarily Plaxico Burress.

Same equation, same result

Me plus the sexy ladies equals baby time.

Thanksgiving Full of Hell

Spend time with your family this blessed holiday? Me too. Blessed, blessed day.

Nothing more wonderful than eating and spending countless hours with Ted Greenberg, a bunch of nincompoop 5 year olds, and his bald Pinocchio.

Greenberg did not appreciate my putting Pinocchio in the oven like the Pilgrims intended. The children however, loved it.