Category: FUCKING DAY
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Come with me to the Hallmark Christmas Hunk preserve. Hallmark has constructed an environment that feels natural to the Christmas Hunks. They’ve got a log cabin that looks a little rustic but actually costs 1.5 million dollars. It’s surrounded by fake snow, but the background is clearly all green. Inside, they can wear sweaters, and drink cocoa, and oh my God, it’s not a preserve at all! They’re hunting them! They’re on the hunt for Mr. Christmas.
The Hallmark Channel decided to jump into reality TV with a hunk hunt, and it’s incredible. They found a bunch of men who seem like real-life Hallmark heroes and made them compete for a chance to pretend to be exactly who they are. The average Finding Mr. Christmas hunk’s backstory is, “Well, I used to be a rescue swimmer in the Navy, but I quit to take care of my Grandma and kiss tiny little birds all day. It’s a serious avian flu risk, but it makes the birds so happy.”
Each man is given a personality clearly chosen by the producers, and they hammer home those personality talking points hard. Some of the personalities are normal things like cowboy, firefighter, former athlete, and generically handsome, and some are things like old guy, was in Hamilton, and divorced dog dad. I made a helpful graphic so you can remember everyone.
In each episode, there’s a “Festive Face-Off,” which is basically a little bit of Christmas-themed torture for the hunks, and whoever wins gets an advantage in their “Star-Quality challenge,” which is generally in some way an acting challenge. In the Festive Face-Off, the hunks do things like cut down a Christmas tree and run an obstacle course with it, untangle an enormous ball of Christmas lights, or wrap an awkwardly shaped Christmas present. When one of them said he wraps Christmas presents by asking his Mom for help, they essentially built ejector seats and catapulted him out of the building. Sorry, women love a hunk who can wrap a present.
The show doesn’t really kick off until episode two. In episode one the firefighter gets eliminated because he reads lines like he’s never seen words before, a common hunk problem. In episode two the hunks get a modeling challenges and with that challenge come two fantastic things: puppies and Tyler Hynes. You may recall from my previous work that I didn’t really get Hallmark star Tyler Hynes, but the thing I’ve realized is that acting is only a third of what’s important about being a Hallmark Hunk. Hallmark does tons of fan events, cruises, and conventions, and that’s where Tyler Hynes shines. This man GETS the female gaze. He took one look at a contestant trying to figure out how to pose and said, “Take off your shirt and wrap the Christmas lights around your torso.” Tyler Hynes is for the girls!
He’s this hyper confident short king who’s never met a piece of furniture he can’t drape himself across casually, and he makes all of the wanna be Mr. Christmases look like chumps. Why are we hunting Mr. Christmas? He’s right there. Take him down, fellas.
So earlier, I made the statement that one of the potential Mr. Christmases chose the personality of Divorced Dog Dad, an insane combination of words, and I blew right past it, but here is the part where I explain. Hayden’s wife took the dog in the divorce, and he is sad about it. So you can imagine that he bursts into tears when presented with the puppy for this challenge. Tyler Hynes comforts him, and it’s pretty adorable, but then we have to watch “I miss my dog” become his whole personality for the rest of the show, and he ends up in the top two. I guess women love a man who is sad about a dog. The aerospace engineer got eliminated in episode 2 because the puppy hated him, which is a great reason to kick a man out of anywhere.
I call episode three the Injuries Episode because it begins with a contestant dropping out because his retina randomly took a vacation from his eyeball, and he went blind. Then Old Man Parker sliced his hand open on the Christmas lights they were supposed to be untangling, and then they announced everyone was going to have to ice skate. I’m cackling, I’m screaming, I’m throwing up. Either I have been poisoned, or I love watching the hunk torture. My transition into festive Jigsaw is complete.
Sadly, no one broke any bones during the ice-skating challenge, but they did have a girl fall down in front of the hunks as a test of “heart”. Almost all of the hunks gallantly helped the girl to her feet, except for one, and that generic hunk immediately had his magic hat taken away and dissolved into a pile of lifeless snow.
Episode four centered around a talent show; the talents included square dancing, folding a fitted sheet, rollerblade bartending, and jumping very high. I didn’t make up a single one of those. Old Man Parker got sent home for talking about his wife too much during a fake interview with E! News, and probably also for not sacrificing enough blood to the blood God during his Christmas lights challenge.
But WAIT! Hallmark movies are all about second chances. (I thought they were mostly about getting railed on a Christmas Tree farm, but sure, Hallmark, go off.) They decide to let the remaining hunks vote on whether Parker can return, and they unanimously vote to bring him back! Only to see him kicked off the very next episode. In a way, it was cruel to give him a second chance. Hallmark is all about giving second chances and then immediately taking them away for entertainment.
Now we’re getting to the part in a reality competition show where we need to see some tears. The men are forced to do a dramatic breakup scene, and Hayden gives the actress in the scene a squeaker that supposedly belonged to his beloved former dog to hold because he feels it will help him “connect with her emotionally.” This should have gotten him eliminated, but it doesn’t. Hallmark loves the painful loss of a dog.
Hayden is probably the best actor in the group, which honestly makes me wonder if the dog is even real. I have a dog-based conspiracy theory that I won’t share with you because the dog estrangement storyline is testing so well.
The best episode is the one where they made the hunks attempt to do improv, which I’m calling Festive Jigsaw. These poor hunks don’t know how to have thoughts, which is why they need the safety of the hunk preserve to survive. There is no ethical way to hunt hunks. You can tell the remaining hunks’ spirits are truly broken as we approach the finale. Generic Hunk Ezra, Divorced Dog Dad Hunk Hayden, Cowboy Hunk Blake, and Hamilton Hunk Elijah are all that remain of our dwindling hunk supply. I’m going to give you a spoiler alert for the ending by letting you know that Ezra is the tallest hunk.
To lift their spirits, production flew in special women from their lives. Mostly their sisters; Elijah’s pregnant girlfriend was allowed in, too, even though he mentioned her way less than Hayden mentioned his precious dog. I swear, for one second, I really thought they might have gotten Hayden’s dog as his special guest. I know production reached out, and his ex-wife said absolutely not. They had to settle for his sister. Everyone was bummed.
The sisters are there to watch them perform a dance that one of the instructors from Dancing with the Stars taught them. Blake the cowboy can only square dance, so he is fed to the reindeer along with the other past hunks. This left only Hayden, Ezra, and Elijah. Of course, they simply lined up the hunks and let the longest one win. Congratulations to Ezra, here he is on the poster for his Hallmark Christmas movie:
What do you mean, Ezra’s Hallmark movie actually stars two cute dogs? They chose the tallest man. How could he not be the best at the job? Has he worked on any other Hallmark movies since he won the contest last year? It looks like they gave him a small role in 2025’s Christmas On Duty, but he is not the leading man.
Hayden got a better Hallmark ending than Ezra. By that I mean he’s the only man who does not own a dog that’s selling fifty-dollar dog sweaters on his personal website, AND he started a podcast with the contestant who had the detached retina called Blondies: Out Loud. As we all know, a podcast is one of the best ways to gain fame and money, even better than playing a supporting actor to a dog in a Hallmark movie.
Hallmark must have considered this project a success despite the fact that it did not yield a leading man for them. After all, they need an almost unlimited quantity of bland hunks to feed into the Christmas machine, so if one isn’t a success, they’ll simply gather a new batch and begin the hunt again in Finding Mr. Christmas season two, where the prize will be the lead role in a Hallmark film that’s actually about two Pangolins finding love at Christmas.
This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Max Baroi, the king of Christmas Hunks. If he had his own streaming channel where he stood around in christmas sweaters for 84 minutes while different puppies waddled on and off screen, we’d be the first subscribers.
God wanted this.
I recognize his will, I feel his hand. The Lord brought me back to Sperm Racing. Perhaps your brain buried natalist DashCon. Or you prefer fake sports with flips and barbed wire. But the Lord remembered.
Sperm Racing had a simple premise: two L.A. attention vacuums (technically four, but I spared the children) donated sperm. The (alleged) better fertility test result won. Inspiring the surging Sperm Race fandom to do…something. Whatever upgrades your cum from C-List YouTuber to B-list. The Lord works in mysterious ways.
They’ve run one disaster, followed by silence.
How did I hear the Lord? Between Hades runs, I did some archiving. You know, backups, datamining, the usual. My Sperm Races folder hid a surprise: an uncut stream of the event seen by thousands worldwide, and enjoyed by tens. An unplanned and unwanted miracle. Immaculate footage. A genuine gift from the Lord.
It’s fucking wretched. The Lord’s sick of my shit, and wants me dead.
That 1.5-hour Sperm Race? The ineptly shot, tragically performed, and unforgivably planned hype ritual? Add “artfully edited” to that. The unabridged Sperm Race is among the Top 4 failures I’ve seen. Consider the url, author, and year. Top 4. I watched Mario Cuomo’s children turn into dust, and this implosion of ambition feels worse.
It’s just 2 hours and 47 minutes long. I’ll rewatch it for you, because I love nothing. To keep the pain fresh, I’ll add some ground rules. Each of these is Game Over:
Easy.
Now that’s fun for all levels of mental health. Let’s rock. I’ll focus on the new garbage, because you paid for this. Alongside the civilians we skipped last time. No mercy.
00:00:00: The Lord is testing me. I’m ready.
00:00:30: The filler graphic features white lava-lamp blobs floating about. Think an old-school screensaver, only for future problems. Seems like a mean thing to do to AI.
00:01:00: More floating sperm. More silence. Dread isn’t worse than pain, but they’re a hell of a tag team. Dread and pain are the Mega Powers of emotions. Add regret, and you’ve got The Shield. Though once anger, shame, and apathy do run-ins, you’ve got more of a NwO/Bullet Club thing going.
Nertz. Well, rules are rules. Starting over.
00:00:00: The Lord will forgive me. We all falter.
00:02:12: Darkness. Things are looking up!
00:02:30: Peace gives way to Nina Lin, our loudest host, interviewing the people. Or rather, a plant with a Naruto curse mark on his neck. I can’t knock that, because I caught it in seconds, in potato quality. Said tattoo is today’s most mature and hirable choice.
00:03:00: I won’t log every backroom fuckup, but chatter from another host–I think it’s Rhino, but Twitch washouts all sound alike–plays over Nina’s interview with a jonin hypebeast. Nina’s joke (“If you were a girl and you had one egg left, who would you go with?”) gets buried by idle chatter about gambling. A dear loss.
00:04:00: Correction: it’s not a backroom fuckup. Both hosts, conducting separate interviews, blare over the event speakers. The entire live audience gets spitroasted with “Have you gambled on the Sperm Races? Please gamble on the Sperm Races. If this doesn’t break even, I have to stream Kirby’s Air Ride in a diaper,” in one ear, and “WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE WORD FOR CUM?!” in the other.
00:04:30: Nina’s favorite is “nut.” A cornered UCLA student doesn’t know his Sperm Race representative, grinding Nina’s nut-based crowdwork to a halt.
Odd that this didn’t make the final cut. Everyone sounds like an inept human, instead of an inept android. This dead air is Sperm Racing’s peak.
00:05:12: Rhino’s back too.
I don’t dissociate. But if I did, I’d see an endless stone stairwell, anchored to air, spiraling into the stars. If I keep climbing, one painful step at a time, I’ll finally reach my dreams. Everything else is noise. Keep going. I have to keep going. Cardi B’s “Up” covers Rhino’s drone, and they didn’t pay for it.
00:07:00: To be clear, these interviews are fucking vapor. Sperm Race viewers couldn’t find a real Saturday night party, which is a real fuckup at UCLA. Or USC. Whoever parties harder.
00:11:00: Holy shit, this file’s a production feed. Nerds say “change the camera” every time Rhino forgets language or Nina nearly drops an n-bomb. The internet is truly the land of opportunity.
00:14:00: More gas. Keep climbing.
00:18:00: The cross-talk peaks. While Nina asks sorority girls for their “sperm dance,” Rhino eats shit trying to start a conversation. It’s wonderful, in its own way. After the sperm dance, which looks suspiciously like freezing up on camera, we learn A) Sperm Racing tickets cost twenty dollars B) everyone here paid. I assumed they pumped sales with giveaways, like every Fox pundit. News Corp lacks the integrity and appeal of Sperm Racing.
00:21:00: This party bumps like a morgue.
00:22:30 – Rhino interviews a child in a Chief Wahoo Cleveland Indians hat. The team dropped that logo and name in 2018, and his white snapback’s spotless. Rhino’s new friend sought out vintage Chief Wahoo, and kept it fresh for the Sperm Races. Somehow, Rhino gets him talking. Said redface enthusiast “Likes the vibes,” at the Sperm Race, and is “excited to be there.” I will never, in all my travels, understand.
00:25:00 – Beastchild returns.
00:29:00: Right, hate needs context to blossom and thrive. While Nina and Rhino represent the sins of TikTok and Instagram, respectively, Beastchild is the afterbirth of Shorts. His voice sounds like his face. The perfect mascot to explain that your jizz is undead, and infertility’s spiked since we started tracking infertility.
00:30:00: A white rapper—as in the Lil’ Dicky’s hell-genre, not just the demographic—stands in darkness. I suspect he knows the stairwell. Everyone here does, in their own remedial way. His song will be about cum.
00:30:01: His song is about cum. And samples Tokyo Drift in 2025. He falls behind the track vocals, making him the weak half of a duet with himself. This performance is white America’s worst sin.
00:34:00: “Who liked the song just now?” Nina asks the dead. They return what they’ve been given. Then Rhino explains why YouTubers Jimmy Zhang and Noah Boat are Very Important People.
00:36:00: Before I write about Jimmy Zhang for the second time: I wrote an Imperial Decline Times Top 100 book of the Year. I’m not plugging it, you just need that context before I write about Jimmy Zhang. Jimmy made videos for children ten years ago, and now does this.
00:36:01: Note that Jimmy & Co. walk out to King Von’s “Armed and Dangerous.” The Sperm Race happened this June. King Von’s been dead for six years. A dead horse knows no peace. Only more suffering.
00:45:00: The other YouTuber emerges. There’s nothing to Noah we didn’t cover last time. He’s the outline of a person, and Sperm Racing’s his peak.
00:53:30: The weigh-in drags on into eternity. Empty bravado by untrained actors evokes bad pro…skating. Though EDGLRD sponsors are less about abstract eugenics, more about crispy doctors. You can skip Googling that company, it’s just the kickflip version of capital slamming standards through a table (a standard move in real fights).
00:57:00: The production stream isn’t worthless: you get golden beats of Sperm Race hosts psyching themselves up. For example, two students eyeing the exits, while Beastchild practices his death mask.
00:58:00: On to the main event! Also: the students are the main event. It feels a bit like an influencer Children’s Crusade. I opted out last time, because of clown bushido. I have my pride.
00:59:00: Time to mock the children. Clown bushido means nothing in a fallen world. I’m a clown ronin.
00:59:30: The first attention addict goes by Tristan Milker, and I’m already annoyed. Maybe that’s his name, and The Lord’s a hack. Either way, he’s a former athlete, current this:
It’s hard to look hard during a jizz-off walkon. I haven’t seen it, because Milker folds. Who wouldn’t? He’s walking into a three-hour powerpoint about his dick. This is a power death march, to a stale arena rap song they didn’t pay for. The rumor of what sports look like, handed down for centuries. About a week, under current attention spans.
01:00:00: The Lord’s punishing me. I don’t know why, after all the compliments. Maybe I’ve been too polite for too long, like a nervous mumbler at a shitty party. You know, Rhino.
01:03:00: Tristan reaches the stage, and has started to believe. Classic mistake.
A few of you are from EagleLand. This snapshot? It’s our Corinthian pillar. When New Chengdu adjuncts ask “where did the burgers fall off,” your grandkids will describe this, an aircraft carrier, and Donald Trump four inches deep into an unconsenting court. Focus on this, it’s more pleasant.
1:04:00: Nina introduces Child 2, who takes a familiar approach.
1:05:01: Child 2 embraces elitist ego, to popular chagrin.
1:05:02: Child 2’s playing antagonist, so to speak.
1:05:03: Fuck it. Child 2’s working heel. Doing the Miz routine. Telling “each and every one of you” how he feels about Sperm Racing fans. Acting like a professional wrestling antagonist, who intentionally chafes with local values.
We’ll be here for a while.
00:00:00: The Lord seems moody.
00:04:00: Back to zany interviews. Don’t look for meaning here, but the UCLA kids sampled are confused, and the USC kids are full kayfabe. A general pop-culture concept not pinned to any genre.
00:00:00: The Lord has a point.
00:05:30: For all his time shitting all four corners of the bed, Rhino unearths the key to this crowd’s massive size and minimal energy. UCLA’s Jaylen answers a garbage question with “Low key, I thought this was just a little joke running on campus. It was around April Fool’s when this started blowing up. So I thought this was a joke.”
00:06:30: After complimenting two girls from USC (or UCLA, I truly don’t give a shit), Nina says “I’m playing. I’m straight. Stop playing with me bitch.” It’s…oddly tense? Probably nothing. There’s room for everyone at the Sperm Races.
00:08:00: I missed this during my first two Sperm Race viewings: Nina bites a joke from the crowd. Right after asking two bored children if they’ve seen sperm, they say they’re virgins. Seconds later, a Twitch idiot asks Nina about sperm. She says she’s a virgin. This becomes her stock line for half the night. I’m not calling her a thief—it’s one of the only doors before her. But she’s definitely drowning. In sweat.
00:09:00: Enjoy a quote from the brain trust:
I hope he finds Cocoa Puffs in his Cocoa Puffs.
00:09:30: “What are you?” opens our next dive into racial satire. It’s less early George Schuyler, more late George Schuyler. If you’re unfamiliar: imagine the black comic of a generation melting into a bitter dick.
00:14:50 – After spotting an undergrad dressed like a glitter bomb, Rhino sprints to a visible personality. She’s a nervous fan of ladybugs and ladybug accessories. Six months later, targeting spectrum-coded kids for clicks seems like nothing. But they shot this when we thought the president only assaulted adults. Edgy for its time.
She does, in fact, carry small plastic dicks. For a second, I see a glimmer of what could’ve been. A celebration of madness instead of mediocrity. Back to the YouTubers.
00:16:00: I’m obsessed with the producer chatter. Not a hint of shame or panic as they fail a bad idea. There’s a universe where this gag works. Sperm Racing had potential. Not to entertain or improve mankind, but to push birthrate panic and amass wealth. Two motives as old as babies and bills for babies. Instead, like half the economy, it’s a venture capital bonfire. Dark money burning like a Gaza ambulance.
00:21:30: Rhino’s audio cuts out. The stock joke’s “Thank God,” but the incompetence staggers. Or is it sabotage? Is antinatalism big at USC?
00:24:00: Rhino meets two morons waving fertility clinic receipts. This interview’s their big chance. “I would race,” repeats Moron One, waving his badge of honor. You can see the followers twinkling in his eye.
00:31:40: Our hosts botch the announcer’s intro. There’s an announcer. Michael, allegedly. I’m sure he won’t mind his omission.
00:32:30: I’ll give Nina and Rhino one bit of grace. Right here? They hear, understand, and acknowledge they are fucked. It’s the most human frame of the night. Theirs is not to question, but to yell cum.
00:41:00: Nina’s blaccent doubles under pressure. You decide if that’s instinct or artifice. If she says nigga before this stream ends, Sperm Racing gets five stars.
00:42:00: Right, darkling, whatever. You can track in-jokes in Sperm Hell.
00:50:00: The YouTubers are back, by the way. For fun, try watching their entourage. No one knows what to do with their hands.
00:55:00: Under these rules, it’s entirely possible I’ll spend my entire life Sperm Racing. Three cum jokes, on loop forever. I wish I’d landed on a napkin.
01:00:00: The Lord wants me to break.
01:01:30: Now that we’re done with Tristan’s trailer, he has a trailer. It’s an action movie parody by and for people that haven’t seen a movie since the plague. A brilliant pastiche of nothing, ripping into fictional culture.
01:03:00: I’ve ground this axe forever, but Sperm Racing can take the blame. Why are trailer parodies completely divorced from modern trailers? We’re still shitting on TV spots for Predator. A franchise that’s peaked, died, and risen like a glorious phoenix. Move forward. Take a chance. Release a cut in Comanche.
01:05:00: Tristan calls his Mom, or an actress. Likely the latter, since he isn’t disinherited on the spot. Missed opportunity: Twitch has only streamed four disownings, tops. This could be the first sponsored by eugenics nutters. They’re half the natalist/fertility panic trend, for the record. I’m just irked enough about it to mock children.
01:11:00: Player Two returns. Asher Proeger wears a last-minute Top Gun costume….and gets a reaction. He does a shitty McGregor impression…and gets a reaction. The crowd’s alive for the first time, and they might rush the stage by design. We have a show.
01:13:00: The hosts immediately trample Asher’s “bad things are good, good things are bad” bit. The crowd goes catatonic again. I go catatonic again. The Sperm Races are the void.
01:20:00: We haven’t had a jizz race yet. Over Alice in Wonderland’s runtime, without one drop spilled.
01:25:00: Host filler. Last round, I said Nina had some hosting talent. Retracted. Nina has moments, like anyone lobbing eighty darts at a board. But she mostly hits drywall. Rhino, however, is the same blank scarecrow in every Sperm Racing cut. A man so boring he refuses to get worse.
01:31:30: Just keep climbing, Dennard. If your feet give out, you have hands. If your hands give out, you have teeth.
01:33:30: Whatever DraftKings knockoff funds this hates subtlety. There’s a bomb strapped to Rhino’s Sperm Chambers, and it’ll explode if he doesn’t ask about gambling every ten minutes.
01:35:00: Nina’s tick is worse: whenever she is truly, utterly lost, she dives into gay panic gags. The editor saved her life in the final cut. Her random swings from fun to baptist lunatic tell me her connection with black culture’s real.
01:37:00: No cum race. Only gambling. Only crowd work. Only hell. Only pain. Only the stairwell.
01:40:10: I went to Princeton.
01:45:00: The stairwell demanded it. It’s an odd place. If Princeton had a sperm race, it’d be three times shorter and four times as unwatchable. I may pitch them later.
01:50:00: I had first-world problems there, but they were mine. Imagine reaching for the Illuminati, and being stuck in Majestic 12. But you can’t carry that bitterness. You just reach for the next conspiracy, or cum race.
01:55:00: The prelim cum race started fifteen minutes ago. Mostly dialogue between our sixth, shittiest host, and a fake cum doctor. You know the rest.
01:57:00: There’s still a full cum race ahead. I don’t remember why people want children. I don’t remember why I want to live. Maybe I’ll have a kid, just to see if that sparks something.
02:00:00: The Lord has fled. I thought he disliked us, or wanted us to improve. Now I know he simply doesn’t care. God has a new girlfriend in Vegas, and expects us to figure out rent and world peace ourselves.
2:01:30: Shouldn’t this be fun? The crowd looks more miserable than me.
02:02:00: If Christ came back on a motorcycle, it wouldn’t revive this crowd. But they might enjoy a nice rap cameo. Maybe I was hard on Ty Dolla $ign.
02:02:30: I went easy on Ty Dolla $ign. He should sue for this footage existing in either edit. The stairwell can lead here. A husk, swaying in the wind for the eugenics fandom. Our takeaway? None. We’re special. This could never happen to us.
02:08:00: It’s already over.
02:09:00: The DJ throws on “Not Like Us.” Nothing. Not even Drake’s corpse can save this.
02:13:00: They make Nina try. She’s all out of gay jokes. She flails harder and falls further than before.
02:13:50: Jimmy Zhang’s “Dreams and Nightmares” trailer plays. It still sucks. More importantly, Jimmy has already raced and won. They’re promoting the past.
02:14:00: Back to crowd work. Nina chats with someone that stayed awake in bio.
Bad hosting habits aside, imagine doping to win a cum race.
02:18:00: If the Lord loves me, he will strike me down here.
02:20:00: If the Lord isn’t shooting blanks, he will strike me down here.
02:22:00: The fucking Sperm Race is starting! It only took two hours of gambling pitches to get there. That’s modern life, really. You ask for sticky propaganda, and get stuck gambling without fun cards or horses.
02:24:00: I’ll bet my Columbia gig on Asher. I don’t think he’s winning, I’m just sick of the anti-protest gun turrets.
02:24:15: You used this garbage twice?
02:24:29: Holy fuck. I waited two and a half hours for this.
02:25:00: Call me an idiot, or even a Sperm Racer, but I thought the main event racetrack would be…something. Both races look like late Visio presentations.
02:27:00: A mock-fistfight erupts in the wake of all that excitement. You can see better on any playground. With smarter jizz jokes too, honestly.
02:33:00: Asher gets slimed. This image may shatter our search tags, but I also died two hours ago. Enjoy.
02:39:00: Our sperm king Tristan Milker wins money. Distorting his identity for a lifetime. Unless he nails Memoirs of a Sperm Warrior, it’s a net setback.
02:47:00: I’m never having children. They’re fun, and I don’t think we’re doomed. I just can’t have someone let me down like this again. I have wrestling for that.
This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Ozzie Olin, who read this while enjoying a hot bowl of clam chowder and downing a pint of frothy lukewarm eggnog.