Archive for the ‘Jason’s Life’ Category


July 26, 2012 3 comments


625 Marmalade Ct.

SAT 7/28
SUN 729

7 AM-?

HUGE sale (600 acres or something like that, I don’t remember for sure), something for everyone. Dogs, cats, moose. Real locks of wizard’s hair (RARE)!  CDs.  Snacks?  Lots of CDs.  Uncle Jeff might stop by! dID i MENTION THERE WILL BE CDS THERE?





Categories: Jason's Life

When Commercials Work

January 7, 2012 12 comments

Start here:

Some commercials create a jingle to help sell their product.  Rarely does a commercial create a generation-defining anthem that changes music as we know it.

Take a guy singing the catchiest melody of all time in my first-thing-in-the-morning voice.   Throw it over a sexual synthy bass and some other musicy shit and we’re ready for Jazzercise class.  If you aren’t singing this song to yourself as you bathe your children and do your taxes, you’re probably one of those lame shitheads that “don’t listen to music.”

But it’s not just the music.  This commercial has it all.  Great product shots, men in bracelets, romance.  A few of these scenes deserve a special look.


NBC’s The Voice is all like “he’s the man,” and the man is all like “I’m wearing bracelets!”  But then the arrow was all like “this is cuter than puppies!”


You’re right, jugs would have been too much.  Now let me slide all up on you as we reenact a tender real life moment over a couple bottles of wine.  Mmmm my precious Chardonnay.



Hopefully, if you’re musically inclined like Mozart and a couple of the Village People, you sang every word of this to the tune of the On the Rox jingle.  If you plan on buying liquor again, I’ll see you at On the Rox.

Peep My Wardrobe, Bitch

December 14, 2011 17 comments

Jason and fashion.  Two words that go together so well, they kind of almost rhyme.  When you’re a fashion icon, your choice of clothing influences a ton of people or some kind of bullshit like that.  But when you’re an average slob like me, you can wear whatever the fuck you want.  Even to work.  Alright, maybe not work if you still want it to be a place that you go.

Let me model some beautiful shit for you.  JASON FASHION TAKEOVER.

Are you a dude?  Have you ever been on a boat?  Well then you’re qualified to wear this shirt.  Convince some stupid rich girl with a yacht that you’re her special little sailor boy and KABLOWJIE!   You’re getting blown off shore every weekend!

Custom made and handcrafted from the hair fibers of extinct Ice Age mammals, this one of a kind sweater will wow people everywhere that wear clothes. An artist was specially commissioned to create a future vision of me, which you see on the left; smoking a pipe in teal sweatpants on a fishing trip.  I’ve never smoked a pipe and I could give two fucks about fishing, but dreams come true in pants so tealy blue.  I’m not sure what that means either.

Made from tiny bits of constellations, staring directly into the pants will cause erotic visions of shooting stars every time you close your eyes.  A verified cousin of the Star Spangled Banner, the next time one of my pick up lines includes something about having a star spangled crotch, it won’t even be a lie. Only one t-shirt could ever accent pants so galactic and you see it here.  If you want to dress like me, hopefully you’re not one of those pussies that’s afraid of clowns.

The finest in mens formal evening wear.  This jacket was designed by someone who ate too much 1980s for breakfast and threw the decade up all over some flashy, electric blue fabric for lunch.  The multi-colored tassels help give you that Macho Man-on-Ecstasy-at-the-Oscars vibe.  If you ever needed proof that you can’t overdose on high class, this is it.

All garments featured here are available for worship by fashionistas around the world.

The Neighbor Who Broke Christmas

December 4, 2011 41 comments

There’s lots of shit in life that people take too far.  Fun things that most people are able to do in moderation.  Drinking, gambling, porn.  One of these things that should never be taken too far is decorating for Christmas.  It’s one thing to assemble an extravagant light show that will throw your neighbors into an epileptic fit.  I’m all for that, that sounds hypnotizingly delicious.  But it’s a completely different story to assemble the Island of Misfit Christmas Blow-Up Dolls on your front lawn.  Especially when you’re building the Island as if it were Noah’s Ark.  Take a quick look, there’s at least two of every creature on this lawn.  Two Whinnie the Poohs, two Tiggers, nine hundred Nutcrackers.  Spongebob and the Grinch can be grouped together because what the fuck are they anyway?

You thought they were done?  No way.  The front lawn’s not enough, let’s move it on to the side lawn!  Because no Christmas is complete without Bart Simpson…sitting on blocks?  Notice how the candy cane fence ropes off the Misfits from the outside world.  Can you imagine the conversation that took place in this household leading up to the construction of the Island?  “Jim, you better build me a candy cane fence to keep those monsters out there away from my babies!”  Good call on that though.  I give it a couple days before the neighborhood Satanists come in and shove those candlesticks up Frosty the Snowman’s fluffy, white ass.

This holiday season, please learn to practice moderation.  If you really need to show off your blow-up dolls, maybe put like two or three on display.  The rest should be kept for your own personal enjoyment, tucked away in your bedroom somewhere.

Artistic Genius

November 27, 2011 23 comments

It was the idea of a lifetime.  Who could top this?  Write about pro-wrestling being responsible for world peace and create the single-greatest internet image yet to be seen by man.  Hulk Hogan and Jesus shaking hands.  But when I sat down to draw, something magical happened.  Something much better than two of the world’s most popular figures creating everlasting world peace with a single touch of the hands.  I gave birth to this art baby:

As you can see, I elected to title the piece “When Hulk Hogan Met Jesus” anyway.  There’s no doubt in my mind that this works.  A man, who could probably pass for Jesus from behind, is reaching out to and possibly petting a large, furry animal.  Coincidentally, this animal has Hulk Hogan’s haircut.  Fifty years from now, I’ll pretend that scholars somewhere are arguing that the look in “Hulk Hogan’s” eyes represents the moment that he first realized he was partially responsible for world peace.

    Like most great artists, I didn’t realize I had created a masterpiece.  I felt frustrated.  I needed to focus on the handshake.  The handshake was the most important part, after all.  Handshake.  Hands:

Handsuits.  Two men.  One the Satanic spawn of The Joker and Marilyn Manson; the other with one eye, a headband and a suit that doesn’t even fit.  Both wearing handsuits.  What is a handsuit?  Some things are better off when they’re left open for discussion.  I was finally able to sit back and admire my work.  The details, the subtle imagery.  What it was saying about today’s society.  The tiny hand, the pointy hand, the lack of feet.  Just everything.  Knowing that Handsuits will undoubtedly be made into a feature film one day has put me at peace with my life.

     The next time you dream about world peace, just remember this.  Maybe it doesn’t really take Hulk Hogan and Jesus shaking hands.  Maybe all we really need in this dangerous world of ours are a couple of handsuits.

My Neighbor’s Dick Garden

November 19, 2011 31 comments

I’ve heard of a green thumb before, but never a peen thumb.  It seems to me that this garden would be a perfect candidate to be the main character in The Secret Garden but there’s nothing secret about it.  A large, growing penis in the middle of the front yard.  I can’t even imagine how many penis enhancement e-mails had to be opened in order to achieve that size.  Let there be no question who has the biggest dick on the block.

The one thing that you’ve got to admire is the dick’s willingness to engulf itself in latex.  What a great hands on model for neighborhood teens to learn how to wrap it up.  You see kids?  Even the world’s biggest dick wears protection!

Dropping temperatures make me feel sympathetic for this unrealistically huge penis that I’d normally be jealous of.  Forced to live outside in the cold and snow, I can’t imagine the amounts of shrinkage that poor Dick will have to deal with.  This gives blue balls a whole new meaning.

Jasing Love

October 11, 2011 7 comments

Three contestants.  The world’s most ineligible bachelor.  Only one will win my love.  Or, I’ll secretly date all three of them.

I’ve been trying to hunt down love for too long.  Enough is enough.  It’s time for a reality dating show.   The chase for love is officially on!  This is Jasing Love.

Jasing Love, the hottest reality dating show since MTV's Next.

All three contestants were selected based on their personal ads alone.  Unheard of levels of mystery and suspense that have never been seen on a dating show!  What will they look like?  I won’t know until the first date and it’s totally weirding me out.

CONTESTANT ONE: Haircuts, 22

Sexy HaircutsI ring her doorbell and fondle my hair.  “How’s about one of them sexy haircuts?”  She invites me in.  She sits me down in a chair and wraps me in my magnificent hair cape.  She struts to her radio and turns it on, letting out a giggle that I’m actually extremely irritated by.  The hottest funk track I’ve ever heard starts to play as the haircut begins.  The singer whispers “sexy.”

I could get used to this!  A haircut everyday until the very last hair on my body has been sexily cut.  It doesn’t take me long to notice that there actually isn’t anything sexy about the haircut, though.  In fact, it seems exactly like any haircut I’ve ever gotten, just louder.

She shows me the finished product.  I look like Kevin Federline with a pony-tail!  I’m freaking out when she starts to talk.

“Sexy haircut!  You look just like my boyfriend!”

I pay her the forty-five dollars I owe her for the haircut and get the hell out of there.

CONTESTANT TWO:  Grandmother Kiss, Old

Older womanThis date starts at a restaurant.  The classiest Burger King in town.  Picking her out of the crowd of seniors there is harder than a game of Where’s Waldo.  They’re all wearing the same outfit.

I track down my lover coming out of the bathroom.  Our conversation gets intense immediately.

“I just want to be wild!  I want to be free!” she tells me.

I knew I was in love instantly.  She gives me a super hard grandma kiss and I start to daydream.  Images of things we’ve never done together start to play over a song so beautiful, it’s a crime to call it by name.  She takes off from our table and launches an all-out peck offensive on the helpless restaurant.  Kiss bombs falling from the sky, blowing up tables left and right.  Somehow through the chaos, I make my way to a floral display next to the soft drink dispensers.  I pluck out a single plastic flower and hand it to m’lady.  The weird thing is, she doesn’t even realize she’s on a dating show.  She just thinks I’m being romantic.  She’s safe.  For now.

CONTESTANT THREE: Business Sexual, 28

Strictly business.

“Very professional to meet you,” I say as I hit her with the firm handshake/business card combo.  She’s wearing a business suit with business stockings and business glasses.

We sit face to face as if it were a job interview.  She presents her figures.  Only three hundred for that!?

“I think the chase is over,” I say in my emotional confessional scene.

The Jasing Love logo flashes on the screen as my name invades the credits.


Is Grandmother Kiss pregnant?  Business Sexual shares her LinkedIn account!  Jason posts underwear pics on Facebook!  Sexy haircuts for the whole cast and crew!  Three way or prison brawl?  Is Jason an asshole!?


A big thank you and shout out to @FreakArms for coming through again with an awesome logo.  Follow him on Twitter already!

Conspiracy Theorists Convinced That Conspiracy is a Conspiracy

October 5, 2011 16 comments

A group of middle-aged, skullet wearing men gathered outside of city hall late last week.  Holding signs that featured the phrase “Truth?” and the Illuminati eye, everything seemed completely rational and important.  As the crowd displayed a total lack of organizational skills and screamed a bunch of different words completely out of unison, I could sense the chaos in the air.

I needed to be a part of this revolutionary moment.

The first man I approached at the protest was a certified AARP member.  He, like all of the other men gathered here on this mysterious day, had a skullet.  But his was slightly more unkempt and sparkled like the eye of the Unicorn.  He was wearing a tie-dyed Grateful Dead/Illuminati combo t-shirt.  I could smell the anger in his breath.

“Who do you work for!?” he screamed at me as his mustache flapped in the wind.


“He’s implanted with a computer chip!” he screamed to Jesse Ventura’s seventeen long-lost, identical twins.

I was able to diffuse the situation with my extensive knowledge of cryptozoology.  Within seconds, I had him talking about the rally.

“We don’t even believe what they’re making us believe.  And what they’re making us believe isn’t even what really happened!”  For a moment, he realized that he was, in fact, a lunatic.  “The conspiracy is a conspiracy!  It’s not real!  They’re making us believe it!”

I needed to know how the government was pulling off such an extravagant stunt.

“Come with me to our clubhouse!” he sprinted five feet down the sidewalk and stopped, out of breath.  “There is no clubhouse, that’s a conspiracy too!”

I made the mistake of asking him the group’s intentions.  My ears almost threw up hot wax.

“Look above you, it’s in the chem-trails.  They’re hypnotizing us!  Roswell, DNA, computer chips, missing socks. The Illuminati owns your urine!  They own everything!  Why do they want us to believe this?  I’ll tell you how they’re doing it!  Airplanes that fly!  Radio waves!  Nuclear reactors!  The board game Battleship!” he was almost crying. “They implanted a computer chip in our brains when we were sleeping!  They’re controlling our thoughts!”

Chem trails!?!

I asked him what conspiracy they were being forced to believe.

“Exactly!  That’s all part of the conspiracy!” he squealed.

Ok?  It didn’t look like I’d be getting an answer.  I pressed harder.

“We all want answers god damn it!  Why does NASCAR exist?  How do magicians do their tricks?  How does Little Caesars make a whole damn pizza in five minutes!?  I don’t want this in my brain!  Can’t you see what they’re doing to us!?”

I looked high and low.  I didn’t see anything.  Just as I told him that he’d be alone for the rest of his life, the police showed up.

“The movement can’t be silenced!” screamed a mustache as I tiptoed away.

Jason’s Daycare

September 26, 2011 14 comments

Are your kids bugging the shit out of you?  Well, they’re probably going to bug the shit out of me too.  But I could use a few extra bucks.

So bring them down to Jason’s Daycare!  But you better change those nasty little diapers first.  The only dumps that I want to get intimate with are my own personal masterpieces.

Ultimate monster mega-shoutout to @FreakArms for the amazing Jason's Daycare logo that we all know I'm incapable of making. Go follow him on Twitter and check out the other cool shit he makes!

While you’re “working,” I’ll be teaching your kids about biting and pulling hair.  Real tough guy shit.  Learning how to fight like a man is the most important lesson your little pisspots will learn in their formative years, guaranteed!  Mix in some hand to hand combat and voila!  We’ve got a UFC fighter in the making!  And what parent doesn’t want to see their kid in a bloody fight?

We aren’t recommended by anyone and we sure as hell aren’t licensed but who reads the small print?  Your kids are going to hate it!  Isn’t that exactly what you want?  While you’re out drowning yourself at “professional happy hour,” your kids are drowning in their tears in the time out corner!  And the fun doesn’t stop there!

Here's one of my assistants playing one of the center's favorite games--The Michael Jackson Dangling Blanket Off Of The Balcony Game!

We run with scissors!  We schedule weekly fights!  We even take your kids out on weekly field trips!  What other daycare is willing to drag your brat along to the strip club?

Do you love your kids?  Are you sure?  I don’t believe you, you haven’t abandoned them with me yet!

Daily spelling and grammar lessons get your kids ready for the real world.  But we won’t be teaching them words like dog and cat.  No, we’re prepping them for life on the wrong side of the playground!  They’ll learn how to talk their way out of a gum deal gone wrong or how to make that little slob that’s hogging the monkey bars cry.

Here's one of my assistants walking your little brat like the animal they are!

Don’t bother packing them a snack.  We’ll take care of that!  Fifty pounds of donuts, all the soda poppy cola you can drink and our chocolate candy mountain will fill your kids up with enough hyperactive fuel to supply their one-man mission to the moon!  Healthy snacks?  What kind of pussy parents feed their kids that?  We’re going to make your dentist a millionaire!

Winner of over seventy prestigious academic awards including the Severely Stunting Your Child’s Growth Award!  With praise like “stay away at all costs,” coming from parents of our former students, how can you go wrong?  What kind of silly question is that, goofball?  Ya can’t!

So bring your kids down to Jason’s Daycare!  We promise nothing but the best, worst childcare in town!  Come on, I’m broke!


Follow @FreakArms on Twitter (why can’t you put links in captions?)

Congratulations WordPress, You’ve Been Freshly Jasoned

September 12, 2011 2 comments

…and that’s way better than being Freshly Pressed.