You just made my list!

Goodbye, turds.

No, you are not turds. Well, some of you are. Wait, when I really think about it, I have dealt with an incredible amount of turds and turd-related activities on this website. To be honest though, it was those turds who got me out of bed each morning. I LOVE all the hate mail that continues to pour in every day, it truly does make my day. I salute you, turds!

But where does that leave you, the non-turd? Well, I love you even more. Yes, even I have the ability to love.

If I may be human for one brief moment, I really have loved hearing from all of you over the last few years but the reality is that I simply do not have the time or energy to continue writing. You may not be able to tell from my past writing, but I actually really put effort into this site and I don’t want to continue unless I feel I can give it my best effort.

“Fuck you Listy, how hard can it be to rant about Guy Fieri?!?”

What did you just say to me? Do you have any idea how much vomit I choked down over the past 3 years while writing about powerful enemies like Guy Fieri, Miracle Whip and corn? Holy shit, I just realized something, if Guy Fieri has a recipe that involves slathering corn on the cob with Miracle Whip I might have to kill myself.

Back to the point… Dedicating 5 nights a week to my genius opinions was taxing but I did it for you, the little people. And WOW, was I good at it! Not to mention, all the hilarious writing I did (and continue to do) in the comments. I really am great, just like you guys always tell me. I’m high-fiving myself. Now I’m taking off my shirt and karate kicking the air while singing a Kid Rock song. I don’t know if it’s a real Kid Rock song but when I sing about America, tits and eagles I just assume it’s probably one of his songs.

So, as much as I hate to say it, I think it’s time for me to close up shop. It feels weird to make it official but all moderately good things must eventually fizzle and die a slow, forgetful death. Like Aerosmith.

I’m trying to find just the right words to sign off with. Something sincere, poignant and heartfelt. Perhaps I will simply say this…

Everything is the worst.

Goodbye.

So, why haven’t I been writing lately? Turns out, when you move to Hawaii, you have to sell everything you own first. And, it turns out, selling everything you own is a fucking pain in the ass that takes up every free minute of your life.

I mention this so that I can fully illustrate my disgust with today’s topic. It takes something insanely stupid to get me motivated enough to hop back on the computer, and today I found it at a Red Robin restaurant.

Has it really come to this? Are Americans actually so lazy that they can’t be bothered to raise their heads to watch TV? Do we need TVs in the floor? You wouldn’t want to miss a single second of Maury Povich while waiting to cram a Fiesta Southwestern Ranch Bacon Spicy Beef Jerky Slim Jim Burger with extra bacon crumble and a side of bacon juice down your fucking throat. Who’s the real father of the baby? I don’t know but there’s a good chance he’s in back “cooking” my “food.”

We deserve to have our economy collapse. We deserve Donald Trump as our President. We deserve Jersey Shore and the Kardashians. We are pathetic. It’s over.

Finally Chevy has figured out a way for you to NEVER escape the incessant, meaningless blathering barfed out by all of your “friends” on Facebook. You never said more than two words to these people when you sat next to them in algebra 20 years ago, but thanks to the magic of Facebook, you now have an up-to-the-minute update of every dumb thing their fat kids do and say.

Well, guess what? Your once peaceful drive home from the adult book store is now going to be filled with wacky anecdotes about microwaved Legos and pancakes found under rugs. Good luck getting a boner after that.

I invite you all to take a look at your Facebook “news feed” right now and imagine what it would sound like to have it read to you by your car. For example, if I was driving right now I would learn that “After shopping all afternoon with my kids, it’s safe to say I am NOT a ‘shop till you drop’ kind of person!!! LOL!”

Way to go society!

Well, it’s official, the universe will implode on February 5th, 2011 at 11:30 Eastern Standard Time.

The earth will rip apart and just as the molten goo from the center of our planet begins to melt your skin off, you will have just enough time to reflect on all the time you wasted carefully placing 20 pillows on your bed every morning. You will beg God for another chance to live life to the fullest but your screaming prayers will go unanswered, because the instant Dana Carvey and Linkin Park share the Saturday Night Live stage, heaven will be the first thing to explode. Poof… no more God. Satan is calling the shots now, pal. It’s over.

Come on, really? I mean… what? I don’t need this shit, not today, not ever. Why?

Do you have an important funeral to attend but you just don’t feel like getting all dressed up in blue jeans for it? Have you been invited to a wedding and think it’s unfair that you can’t just wear your pajamas? I mean what’s more important than YOUR comfort, right? For years women have suffered the inhumane torture of wearing jeans in public. What, is everyone supposed to be the Queen of England?

Introducing Pajama Jeans, you lazy piece of shit! Now you can wear your PJs to your mother’s funeral and all the other dopes in attendance will think you have dressed up in jeans. Joke’s on them, it’s our little secret.

Pajama Jeans provide the best of both worlds… the laziness of wearing jeans every day, and the laziness of wearing your pajamas in public! Our patented stretchy material works for all shapes and sizes, so cramming your fat ass in there for a trip to Walmart will be a snap. The special interior “Dormi Soft” material is as soft as a baby’s face. It’s like rubbing your sweaty vagina against a cute baby’s face, what could be better?!?

You can wear your pretend jeans with sandals, bare feet, Crocs, or if you have an important court date for your recent D.U.I. you can even wear them with flip-flops.

But wait, there’s more! You can even work out in your magical fake jeans. I’m just kidding, we all now there’s no need for you to work out, it’s McDonalds’ fault you are fat. You should fucking sue!

Order now and we will throw in a free T-shirt that you will most likely use to wipe Slurpee spills off your belly.

Finally, Americans have a way to dress casually! Order your Pajama Jeans NOW!!

All I can do is stare at the screen and wonder what the hell I could possibly say about this.

I honestly think we may have peaked as a civilization. Maybe it’s because I watched an episode of “Wife Swap” for the first time tonight or maybe it’s simply because Taco Bell is jamming Flamin Hot Fritos into burritos, but I’m starting to feel like the human race has reached the top of the roller coaster and it’s time to all put our hands in the air and enjoy the rapid decent into hell.

Can we be trusted with the enormous task of keeping society running smoothly when Fritos are being shoved up the ass of an already heinous “burrito?” I’m not even against the practice of putting chips on things, in fact I like a good PB&J filled with pretzels, but this activity should be reserved for the end user. There is just something so grim about buying a food product already stuffed with Fritos. It’s unfortunate.

Oh, but there is some good news though. The Beefy Crunch Burrito comes with “reduced fat sour cream.” Why bother?

I’ve been working long hours plus trying to get ready for stupid Christmas plus my internet was out last night plus shut up!