08.08.16 | Monday | 10:59:45 AM EST | Just added to the fake song database:

"Nude Dawn"

the Wilted Wilted West ...

IN ADDITION TO MY AWARD-WINNING ANTI-GLUTEN PARODY LOGO T-SHIRT IDEA "DON'T BREAD ON ME" (LEFT), I WILL BE DEVELOPING A NEW DESIGN BASED ON THE SLOGAN "ESCHEW THE GLU" AS PART OF MY ATTEMPT TO 'CORNER THE MARKET' ON ANTI-GLUTEN MERCHANDISE + BRANDING AND/OR END HUMAN CONSUMPTION OF GLUTEN (WHICH, I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW, IS PART OF A GREATER SECRET PLOY TO DRIVE DOWN THE PRICE OF GLUTEN-RICH PRODUCTS SO I CAN SAVE SOME DOUGH BECAUSE I LOVE THAT GLOOT. ALL DAY LONG WITH THE GLOOT. GLOOT GLOOT!)

I'm just gonna leave this image (a desktop screengrab) as a teaser for something coming in 2017 without any other context. Thanks for reading my blog.

I did a pod about re AROD, offering my hot takes on the retirement decision/Sunday's press conference, which was really just another weird moment in a career full of weird moments. But I don't think I adequately portrayed my appreciation for this weirdness. In so many ways, he was the anti-Jeter: a player who was not hyper-savvy when it came to handling the media and PR, and was in fact so woefully bad at those things that they overshadowed the fact that he was one of the best ten humans to play a game 10,000s of humans have been playing professionally for over 150 years. AROD was a WEIRDO. He kissed himself in the mirror. Centaur painting above the bed. Jeter sleepovers (which, btw, WEIRD JETER). His thing for female bodybuilders. Cousin Yuri. Peeing on Cousin Yuri's floor. The Boston slap play. It goes on and on. Feel free to google any of that stuff. The point is that AROD was my favorite baseball player and I'm a little bit sad right now. Hopefully Friday night against the Rays––which is a weird way to end things––will be, well, one last flurry of weirdness. And four homers to get to 700.

STAY HUMBLE

I made this image in the Instagram-owned app Layout so I would know what kind of detergent and fabric softener my wife likes when I go to the store on my lunch break. I'm just a regular guy. This is also...

JUST NOTICED I STILL HAD SMEARED MAC & CHEE GOOP ON MY (LEFT) FLIP-FLIP FROM WHEN MY DAUGHTER DROPPED A PLATE OF FOOD ON ME AT THE 2-YO B-DAY PARTY I ATTENDED YESTERDAY, WHICH WAS DISCONCERTING BUT NOT NEARLY AS BAD AS NOTICING THAT THERE WAS STILL GOOP ON THE SIDE OF MY FOOT AND ON MY BIG TOE. C'EST LA VIE.

IDK

Def above average sky, folks.

ANSAFDFL

CAKE BOSS < CAKE PUSS

Posting a dramatic reading video of me reciting "Bawitdaba" by Kid Rock to my YouTube in a few minutes (1/2 singing and 1/2 talking). Check it out!

Gorgonzola Ram Cheese

Now this is an album I need to make. The people deserve it.

Why must my face have fur?

My face fur, which needs to be removed 1-3 times each week, has clogged my sink. I'll be getting together a baking soda & vinegar concoction mixed with boiling water to try and fix it.

THEY CALL ME "BIG." "BIG DATA." BECAUSE I AM BIG. AND I LOVE DATA. AND I HAVE THIS HAT. WOW. OK.

LITTLE KNOWN FACT: BB King was a foster parent to over 40 rabid + blind/incontinent orphaned racoons

in the cloud, of the cloud, love the cloud