Last Tuesday I was on set all day shooting a bit for Jimmy Kimmel. There's nothing better in the world than getting paid to play pretend and I'm so grateful to everyone on the production team for their hard work, and for allowing me to do what I love to do. As much as I would love to tell you all the gooey gory details of the shoot, I signed a nondisclosure agreement. So instead I'll tell you all the fake details about the shoot that I completely made up.

The shoot was a mansion on the remote Soldier Island off of the coast of Devon. The cast was ferried to the set and given a lavish meal. After dinner, we retired to the parlor, where we noticed ten little soldier figurines displayed on the table. How quaint! Over coffee, we gabbed and wondered at the whereabouts of our mysterious hosts. Suddenly, one cast member inadvertently knocked into the gramophone. There was a silence—a comfortable replete silence. Into that silence came The Voice. Without warning, inhuman, penetrating . . . “Ladies and gentlemen! Silence, please! . . . You are charged with the following indictments.” And we sat and listened to the mysterious Voice accuse us of murderous crimes most harrowing.

Terrified, each cast member attempted to call his or her agent, but there was NO CELL PHONE RECEPTION ON THE ISLAND! We attempted to leave; however, the only way on or off Soldier Island was on a single boat, which had stopped running due to inclement weather. We were paired up with another guest from our district and informed that we were to get ready for the tribute parade. Impressing the wealthy spectators was of utmost importance (as their support would be crucial to our survival during the shoot), so we were each assigned a stylist. My stylist did my hair, make-up, and  wings of fire.  The second AD then escorted us to the set, where we climbed into our chariots and paraded in front of the rich residents of the Panem Captiol. Post-parade, we returned to the parlor only to find one of the little soldier statues missing, and the body of one of the cast members slumped in a chair, a hypodermic needle mark in her neck. Also? There was a bee in there, for some reason? A BEEEEEE

It was at this point I realized that I couldn't take it any more. Yes an actor should be grateful for a paid job, but people were dying! And we weren't even at the part where we'd all get dropped in front of a tent full of weapons! There was NO WAY I was going to put up with this any longer. So I grabbed my bow and arrow set in one hand, my poisonous berries in another, and strode out the beach. I climbed upon the rocks, waves lapping at my feet. With a swift, proud gesture, I raised a fist into the air and signaled to my ocean-dwelling friend that we were FREEEEEEE! As the strains of Michael Jackson's "Will You Be There" played on all our heartstrings, the brave whale Willy leaped over the rocks, out of the cove and into the ocean.  Then the director yelled "CUT" and the second AD said "That's a wrap!" and everyone clapped a lot.

Oh schnapkins, that might all be the combined plots of The Hunger Games, And Then There Were None, and Free Willy. Eh, whaddyagonnado.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far, away that was much wetter than our own, lived a young whale. He was similar to the other whales in that all whales pretty much look alike. But he was no ordinary whale! He was SKRILLERX! While the other whales his age ate seals and talked about doin' it with lady whales, Skrillerx ate skrill and jammed out on his aquatic keyboard. The other whales did not understand why Skrillerx was strange and why he did not like the things they liked, and so they shunned him in their whale fashion, which is to say they whale honked at frequencies Skrillerx did not understand. Skrillerx grew lonely and sad, and he grew his whale hair into a weird half-dreadlocked, half--buzzcut ordeal. Every day after skrool, he came home and cried whale tears that were big and salty like the ocean he swam in (this is why whales are so super good at hiding their pain). 

One day Skrillerx was tapping out a weepy tune on his aquatic keyboard when he heard a strange noise. It was low and rumbling, and did not contain any grating high-pitched noises (the kind of noises he would put into his music, if he were ever to release a hot aquatic club jam).  What could the noise be? Skrillerx opened the door with his wee little fin and ... GASPED! It was former ocean secretary of state Henry Skrissingerx!

"Skrillerx! Do you know who I am?" boomed the dignitary.
"Why yes, Henry. Why, every young whale learns about you in skristory class!"
"How sad. For I am not a relic of the past, I am a beacon of... THE FUTURE!" With that, Henry spread his fins out as wide as they could go and allowed the gravity of his low voice to shake Skrillerx's tiny room. "And I'm here because the future needs you."

PART 1 OVER PART 2 AVAILABLE LATER

I am well respected in the cat community. Cats consistently look to me for advice. Do you know how many letters I receive every week, from cats? They're not really letters as much as they are pitiful miaowings to be let in or out. But they are as God made them (read: unable to write. I mean, have you read The Cat Bible? Total nonsense).

So color me TICKLED when I was out shopping recently (for dresses just like the ones worn by those freaky twins from The Shining, of course) and what did I spy? A bleached blonde pushing sixty and a shopping cart, decked out in Ed Hardy? CHECK! A woman digging through the clearance rack while holding her toddler upside down? MATE! A guy who I am 90 percent sure was the resurrected BayWatch version of beloved actor Pat Morita? KING ME!!! But more importantly than all that, and relevant to this blog, I saw:

Oh, man! This is hella good news any way you slice it! I know a lot of you "haters" are upset that Christmas decorations are being trotted out to store shelves well before their traditional season. You may even go so far as to say that Christmas is the hot younger sister gettin' wasted and banging other holidays at Halloween's debutante ball. "THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SATAN'S NIGHT!!!", you cry, made-in-China stockings from Target's dollar bins clutched in your sweaty fingers.

I say quit being such a screamy weirdo in public. Christmas decorations for sale mean one awesome thing and one awesome thing only: It's time for my annual GIFT GUIDE TO GIVING GIFTS: A Gift Guide For Cats! I publish this guide as part of my never-ending effort to ensure the cats of the world don't feel awkward when faced with decisions about what to get their owners. Read on... after the JUMP!

Thank you to the 100-or-so of you who came and checked my blog this weekend to see if I'd posted anything. I have rewarded you with man's greatest achievement: INCONSISTENCY! What, you don't agree that inconsistency is man's greatest achievement? Okay then, go ahead and walk down the same woodsy path day after day after day. When you get eaten by bears - bears who can predict your every move - don't come crying to me. I suppose, however, that if you came crying to me after being eaten by bears, I should be very impressed.

Anyway, blah blah blah, I'm always right. To further reward you for your dedication, I present you with this recipe (adapted from the New York Times blog The Minimalist). Enjoy!

Oh, hello there.

You must have noticed that I'm an extremely busy and successful business dog. WOOF! I do all of the important dog business around here: typing, staring, owning one of those banker's lamps, chewing. You know, being a busy and successful business dog didn't come by accident. ARF! It  was a result of hard work, overall awesomeness, and CAREER DAY! YARP YARP YARP YARP YARP!

That's right, I'm talking about Career Day: a special day in an animal's life where he or she can fully explore the opportunities that lay ahead. BAUWROOOOOOOOO! There are a million jobs just sitting out there in the world like a bunch of dog butts just waiting to be sniffed. I used my dog business connections to sponsor one of these career days, so that I may give other animals the same opportunities that I had.

1. Back pain.
2. There's some trash by the side of the road. Gross!
3. The late Senator Robert Byrd is, well, late, so someone's gotta weep for they country.
4. They cut the Alistair Quince monologues out of the DVD release of Mama's Family!
5. The bananas were yellow but they've TURNED ALL BROWWWWWN
6. You went to sit on a chair and sat on a tack.
7. Some asshole left a cake out in the rain.
8. You're trying to maitre-d' Chez Quis like you do and some teenage punk is trying to front as THE Abe Froman- THE Sausage King of Chicago!
9. For Adonais - HE IS DEEEEEEEAD
10. You're Percy Bysshe Shelley and Mary is withholding the choooooch.
11. You went to sit on a chair and fell down a well.
12. Cause like, the sunset; it's just so beautiful, man.
13. Because drugs are expensive!
14. It wasn't supposed to be like this: science chose self-driving cars over hovercars.
15. People born in 1994 can vote.
16. THE DREAM TEAM WENT TO BARCELONA AND NOBODY PAID ENOUGH ATTENTION TO JOHN STOCKTON
17. Kim Kardashian made about $75 in the time it took you to read this.
18. $100 if you're a slow reader.
19. You're a slow reader.
20. You went to sit on a chair and sat on a trumpet, which would have been kind of funny, except you farted and the trumpet sort of amplified it so that EVERYBODY heard it, so it was just embarrassing.
21. PEOPLE ARE STILL MIXING UP THEY'RE AND THEIR AND THERE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK
22. Teachers have to use fewer and fewer resources to teach more and more students, yet still get called lazy by campaigning millionaires.
23. The Simpsons: it just ain't what it used to be.
24. Family Guy: it is exactly what it used to be.
25. OH SHIT THAT SARAH MCLACHALACHALACHALAN DOG SHELTER VIDEO IS ON AGAIN JESUS CHRIST RUN
26. It took so long to bake that cake. So long! And someone just LEFT IT OUT. Who does that?!??
27. NASCAR: still more popular than soccer!
28. NASCAR: still more popular than algebra!
29: NASCAR: still more popular than afforable preventative health care!
30: NASCAR: less popular than One Direction.
30.  You're working a waitress job to support yourself as you launch a brand new business, and last night you had to tip out 47% of your money to the lazy bartenders, who brought in about half as much as you did.
31. Kim Kardashian is up to $200!
32. That wooly mammoth at the Smithsonian probably died alone.
33. Seriously, who leaves a cake outside? Assholes.

My sketch group Bone Mouth is gearing up for a REALLY BIG SHOW this Friday at the Hollywood Improv. That's right: it's so big, we've resurrected Ed Sullivan to say "REALLY BIG SHOW" for us. I hope I'm correct in thinking he's the one famous for saying that, because otherwise I wasted a whole bottle of voodoo mojo and perfectly good shovel.

As a teaser for our show, I'm going to show you SOME LEG! SOME LEG is code for a sweet ass video we made. It's your favorite new reality show and mine: The Real Housewives of Recently Deceased Men.
Check out out below! If it's your gangnam style, go to Funny or Die and vote "funny". These women would appreciate it. It's all they have left!

Sad news, readers. This is the final chapter of Chucklesluts: A Sexy Story About Sex. Good news: that sentence should have read "This is the final chapter of Chucklesluts: A Sexy Story About Sex... until I feel like writing another one." That's the great thing about freedom: having it!

Read more... after the jump!

I'm going to assume that anywhere between 70 and 90 percent of you reading this blog are either venture capitalists looking for a new investment, or comically short billionaires with a couple of extra sacks of cash you're tired of carrying around.  Since squandering such an opportunity with posts of silly animal pictures and rants about dead philosophers would be silly, I'll instead take today to write a Very Serious Post about My Business Ideas That Are Fun And Profitable*.* Fun available for additional fee.

TEEN STREET JOURNAL: Since print media is dying and all, I'll merge two of the remaining successful publications before they have a chance to run themselves into the cold, digitally dominated ground. Page 23: Opinion columns about Ben Bernanke's announcement that the Fed will take aggressive stimulus action.  Page 24: ZOMG Fall's cutest new hairstyles - guaranteed to deter bullying! 

FREEGURT: The frozen yogurt shop where the yogurt is always free! You may be asking, "Hey IDIOT: if you give all of the product away then HOW ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO MAKE A PROFIT, EINSTEINBRENNER!!!." Guys you aren't even listening while you shout your clever portmanteaux in my direction. Why don't you listen to a gal once in a whiiiile? Sure I'm giving away the yogurt - but not the frozen! You wanna walk out of Freegurt with a cup of warm sugar goo like some kind of ANIMAL, that's on you. You wanna eat frozen yogurt like a normal hip suburbanite, you'll pony up the dough. Also: Freegurt's backgroud music will exclusively be covers of Lynyrd Skynryd's "Freebird" with slightly altered lyrics. "And this gurt you cannot charrrrrrrrrrrrge! Buyyyyyyyyyy meeeeeee Freeeeeeegurrrrrrrrt". And soforth.

JAZZNASTY: This is a phone sex hotline where all the operators are crusty old jazz players. Horny people aren't super attentive to anything besides their own throbbing genetalia so they probably won't even notice when the operators switch from blowing hot alto sax to rambling about banging this one cocktail waitress at the Blue Note back in the day.

COOK NUMBER OVEN: Your food deserves the comfort of a specific, individualized temperature. The Cook Number Oven allows personalized, adjustable cooking comfort! Simply select your food's Cook Number, set it, and voila! Your food ends up cooked and ready to be eaten! That's the Cook Number promise. 

THEYPHONE: For When You Want THEM To Do It! Forget all the fancy features of the latest smartphones. Remember when a phone was just a phone? And how even that was too much to handle? Well, those days are over! TheyPhone is the perfect device for both the chronically depressed and the criminally lazy. I've taken away all those annoying buttons and ringing sounds, and left you with just a single button. Press it, and TheyPhone will call your parents so you can ask them to do it for you. If your parents are dead or something, then you can just program it to call Jazznasty. 

Matlock references, fan fic, lists of things. Boy, we've sure had fun over the last two blogs! But now it's time to grab that fun like a damp sponge and squeeze, squeeze until the fun runs out like so much filthy dish water. That's right, blog reader! It is about to get educational in here!  Through my special combination of education and entertainment, which I call "Entercation"(TM), you'll learn valuable scholarly concepts in a n engaging fashion, and I'll chip away at any feelings of intellectual inadequacy. Ha ha, it took me four tries to spell "inadequacy" correctly! Ha! HA HA HAHA

For my first eduFUNctional series of the fall season, I'm returning to the classics and continuing my series PHUN with Philosophy. As you recall from reading previous installments, PHUN with Philosophy is a series where I teach you rubes and noobs about what a bunch of dead people used to write about their own thoughts an' stuff. After reading my series, I guarantee you can go to any party full of hackey-sacking hippies drinking grocery store wine and hold your own. Note to said hippies: calling it "Saturnalia" doesn't make you less of an alcoholic.