Michael Lohan Talks To God.

NEWS ITEM: Lindsay Lohan's father Michael claims God told him to build a rehab center.

I can only imagine that it went down very much like Bill Cosby's "Noah" routine.


GOD: Lohan!

LOHAN: Somebody call?

GOD: Lohan!

LOHAN: Who is that?

GOD: It's the Lord, Lohan.

LOHAN: Riiiiiight! Where are ya? What you want? I've been good.

GOD: I want you to build a rehab center.

LOHAN: Riiiiiight! What's in it for me?

GOD: Get someone to put up three times as much money as you'll need. Build it 300 meters by 80 meters by 40 meters.

LOHAN: Riiiiiight! Whats a meter?

GOD: You don't know what a meter is? Oh, yeah, I forgot - only America and Burma don't use the metric system anymore. Don't worry about it for now, Lohan. You can google it later. When you get it done, go out into the world and collect all of the rubes and halfwits you can get your hands on - male and female - and put them into the rehab center.

LOHAN: Riiiiiight! Who is this, really? What's going on? How come you want me to do all these weird things?

GOD: I'm going to destroy the world.

LOHAN: Riiiiiight! Am I on Candid Camera?

GOD: No, but there might be a reality series in it for you.

LOHAN: ALLLLLLLLL-Riiiiiight!

When Santa Drinks.

One year sometime in the early '90s I did some cartoons in MS Paint to amuse my coworkers as Christmas approached. The cartoons have been unseen for years. For a while I'd had them posted on Geocities but it was one of those free disappearing sites that blinked out of existence without warning, (as distinct from the other Geocities sites, which blinked out of existence in October after Yahoo! decided its free crappy websites weren't worth the trouble). Luckily for me - and now for you - the cartoons were saved on our home PC, where they've been trapped since about 2001 - that computer had no CD burner and its replacement, and its replacement, and then that machine's two replacements didn't have floppy drives.

It only occurred to me a few days ago that I might be able to create a small network to connect that old computer to one of our new ones. (Yes, I am also the kind of guy who much later has brilliant comebacks to people's remarks. My rejoinders last week to that guy who made fun of my hair would have shut him up but good, had he not died years ago.) But I digress: my point is that the network worked, the files were transferred, and my cartoons live again.

So, Ladies and Gentlemen, without further ado, I give you When Santa Drinks.






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