Sadly, I started my day by watching this trailer for the Insane Clown Posse’s new movie “Big Money Hustla$” and it put me in a dark place- not just because it’s an absolute dearth of artistry and authenticity akin to titty-less porn for retarded eunuchs, but because it will pull a profit. I mean, I guess if I was a chubby guy in his 40’s who dressed as a clown that jumped up and down arrhythmically while I shouted about generic blue soda, and someone gave me the funding to make a Cowboy movie, I would do it too, but that doesn’t excuse so many  for liking it.

They premiered this bastard in Detroit and did an outdoor red carpet with a wind chill of about 14 degrees and the place was packed. I knew Detroit was fucked, but this is just ridiculous.

This trailer and the whole Insane Clown Posse phenomenon just makes Elliot Smith look like even more of a genius, not so much because of his music, but because he had the foresight to stab himself in the chest nine times and die years before this shit happened. Kudos, Elliot.

Jermaine Jackson accepting the award for best pop/rock male artist, in honor of his brother, a dead, drug-riddled, child molester who didn’t release an album this year. Nothing strange about that.

Due to extenuating craziness, I think we have all over looked the significance and hilarity of the fact that Jermaine Jackson has a son named “Jermajesty.” No shit, that’s really his name.

On the outside, it probably seems like Daughtry’s go it made. He doesn’t do jack shit and he gets paid in cocaine and pussy, but underneath it all, he has to feel like Don Draper if his wife, three pregnant chicks, his long lost brother, and his real birth certificate all walkedinto his office at the same time.

“Oh no, Whitney, no. No, you can’t use this to chisel away the oxycontin hardened shit bricks in your asshole. No, this is an award of some sort.”

“Well thanks for nothing than, jackasses! Now, someone get me my pills, my crow bar, and some KY. Momma needs to empty.”

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