I know DOB only started telling the rest of you last week, but for months now he’s been going on about how he’s going to be the new host of Late Night.

“Segments, Gladstone,” he keeps saying. “I need segments! I can’t keep picking fights with Hannah Montana. That’s going to get old.”

“Going to get old?” I thought, but I felt I owed it to Dan — much in the way you still give money to a homeless woman pretending to be pregnant— you feel so bad that she’s delusional enough to believe she could fool anyone with a pillow under her shirt that you just have to reward the effort.

So I grabbed a recent news story —Tiffany Shepherd, the Florida High School teacher who was fired for working part time as a “bikini-mate” on a charted fishing cruise— and put it through my previously tested numeric hate machine to create a new segment:

Hate By Numbers.

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Gladstone wants to be your special friend. Check out some more of his stuff HERE and OVER HERE.

Chris Crocker Is The Bomb!

Hey guys! It’s me - Michael Swaim! By the time you’re reading this I may or may not be on the front page of Digg with my new and hilarious Those Aren’t Muskets! sketch, but you know what? I don’t really give a shit about that right now.

I know what you’re thinking: “But Michael, you and your amazing sketch comedy group Those Aren’t Muskets! put your heart and soul into that video! After all that hard work and dedication, how can you sit there and say you don’t care about it?” I appreciate your sentiments, reader, but I can’t deny it: This Chris Crocker video has me completely captivated. I can stop watching it for brief periods of time, but I can’t stop thinking about it to save my life.

As you all know, I’m Michael Swaim. Being Michael Swaim means lots of things, but first and foremost, being Michael Swaim means hanging on Chris Crocker’s every word. What can I say? I love Chris Crocker and I love his videos. They’re just so… honest, you know? If you love me, Michael Swaim (and you know that you do), you know that I love Chris Crocker. Considering that, you probably aren’t surprised that I’m posting this video for today’s 9AMer (PST). There’s just not a whole lot to be surprised about here: I love Chris Crocker, I love posting videos at 9AM (PST), and I’m Michael Swaim. It all adds up, right?

I also love poop, balls, poopie balls, and rubbing my balls in poop. Me - Michael Swaim. These are the things I love.

But don’t forget Chris Crocker! As much as I love getting my balls all poopie, I think I might actually love Chris Crocker even more! Isn’t it great that he turned down all that money and fame so he can continue to say “fuck” on YouTube? Chris Crocker keeps it real! He’ll turn down a fat paycheck just to tell it like it is (with profanity)! That’s why I love Chris Crocker… almost as much as I love getting my balls all poopie!

Let me be clear here: If there’s two things in this world that I love as Michael Swaim (which is who I am), it’s a) the physical act of getting my balls all covered in poop and b) watching Chris Crocker videos.

Arrrgh! Don’t make me pick a favorite!

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When not blogging for Cracked, Michael Swaim enjoys watching Chris Crocker videos, getting his balls all poopie, and being the actual, real-life Michael Swaim (which is who he is)

For the last week I’ve been trying to find something in the news about books or authors to blog about. Why? Well, I’m glad you asked. Because I am now officially available in print — like in a book store. And, no, I’m not talking about Vol. III of the ill-fated Cracked magazine where I delighted Janet Maslin of the New York Times with my ribald satire of Lindsay Lohan’s vagina. I’m talking about being published in an actual book. With pages. And a cover.

Uber-hip, literary website McSweeney’s Internet Tendency has seen fit to include me in their latest offering: McSweeney’s Joke Book of Book Jokes. How exciting is that? Pretty exciting. Just ask my bosses. They’re extremely pleased about the much-needed credibility my literary achievement has brought to this blog. (Lex, thank you for the roses. Jack, the According to Jim DVD collection was nice too.) Sure, Ian Cooper was included in McSweeney’s last book, and Jason “one blog post then quit” Roeder has a whole book out now, but screw ‘em. They’re not here. They took off to their ivory towers, leaving me to languish alone with my child-like, functionally illiterate co-bloggers.

So, yeah, I’m a pretty big deal. But for some reason, I thought I could only justify telling you if I found some story about another wildly important and famous writer first. But no one reports on writers anymore. I found one article about Tom Clancy — his house deck burned down last week. Not much to support a post. God hates homophobes, I guess. Then I found a story about JK Rowling saying she contemplated suicide. Apparently, it was before she was famous. I had assumed it was after she saw the Jar Jar Binx-esque CGI that was used for werewolf, Mr. Lupin, in Prisoner of Azkaban. But that’s about it. No good author news. In fact, DIGG doesn’t even have a category for books or literature. Not even a category.

What does that mean? It means we live in a world where authors are no longer rock stars. Hell, rock stars aren’t even rock stars anymore. Who are the rock stars today? Reality show contestants? I’m not sure, but I do know my inability to find a blog-worthy author story almost kept me from sharing such wonderful news.

But then I realized something. Who needs to link to a real story? That’s for amateurs. Children. I’m the oldest Cracked blogger, and I’d better start acting like it. (I actually don’t know if that’s true. I know nothing about Chris Buckholz other than he’s part robot and has no interest in speaking to me.) But as someone clinging to the edge of Cracked’s demographic, I will assert myself now. And why not? I earned it. I own some vinyl LPs, I have a 401k, and my testicles have fully descended. Do you understand? I bought OK Computer the day it came out. I got bloodied up in a Soundgarden mosh pit in ‘93. And I know that my state income tax from the previous fiscal year can be claimed as a deduction on my current Federal return. So if I want to explain to you that I sold a 600 word piece to McSweeneys for $100.00, and it’s now included in a soft cover anthology, then I’m going to do it. Does that make me the world’s greatest satirist since Jonathan Swift? In a way, yes. Yes it does.

Some of you might be saying, “Is Gladstone being hyperbolic here?” And when I say “some of you,” of course, I mean the readers. (Mikey, Rossie, and Dannie think “hyperbolic” is a word for some kind of chamber that can turn you into a super hero. Chris might use that word, but, like I said, he’s a robot so…) But to answer your question, yes, I’m exaggerating a wee bit about the above. I didn’t actually bleed in the Soundgarden mosh pit. The rest is all true. Or I don’t live in Maine.

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Check out some more Gladstone over HERE and OVER HERE.

I’m not going to lie to you. I had no idea what to blog about today. I hit all my usual sources and nothing. I was about to call my editor, Jack O’Brien, and tell him not to send the package of crystal meth he rewards me with every Monday and Wednesday (he calls it “blogging candy) when suddenly I got an idea. Well, more specifically, my old crime-fighting buddy got an idea, but it was a good one: see what’s cooking on Digg!

And I did just that. Did you know that Digg really seems to like articles in list form? I had no idea.

Anyway, high up on Digg’s list of TV stories was a piece on Children of Men. Apparently, a T.V. series is in the works. This news hit me somewhat strangely. It was sort of like finding out the best steak I’ve ever tasted is now available as a low calorie soft drink. It was kind of like hearing the hottest chick I’d ever seen was now accredited to do my taxes. And it was exactly like hearing a great movie that should never be made into a series was being made into a series.

For those of you in the dark, Children of Men was a phenomenal science fiction picture set in the not too distant future. Infertility has torn through the world and, with no forthcoming generation to inherit the earth, the place has kind of gone to hell. Y’know, like the way you acted towards your high school teachers after you were accepted to college. (Or the way Dan O’Brien is acting towards his college professors right now since he sold the rights to his new book, Benjamin Franklin Used To Fart A Lot And Other Jokes I Learned From Howard Zinn).

I mean, maybe a series will work, but I don’t want to chance it. Children of Men is one of my all time favorite movies. Michael Caine’s performance made me cry. (Shut up! I was so distracted by his quality acting that I stepped in a bear trap.) Julianne Moore was great. And Clive Owen was so damn good and appealing that I’m pretty sure I lost my grasp on heterosexuality halfway through the flick.

But I just don’t see any of that happening with a TV show. For one, Michael Caine’s character is dead. Also, Juliane Moore’s character is dead. And lastly, and this may be a minor point, I’m pretty sure Clive Owen’s character is dead too.

Another reason it won’t work? The curse of Logan’s Run. Is there such a curse? Of course, there is, I just wrote it down and you read it, didn’t you? Logan’s Run was a fairly successful Sci Fi movie from the 70’s starring Michael York. But I think the spin off series only ran 3 episodes. The shows share some common ground: Logan’s Run was set in an apocalyptic future where there were no old people. Children of Men? Just the opposite. No young people. Does that mean that Children of Men will have the opposite luck when it comes to how long the series runs? Of course, not. That’s stupid. Besides, there’s that curse. Weren’t you listening?

Anyway, maybe I’m wrong. Anyone more optimistic about this show?

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Check out some more Gladstone over HERE and OVER HERE.

Let it be known, faithful readers, that Michael Swaim would risk anything, even his untarnished record of utter reliability, to keep you entertained on your coffee breaks.

That is why, even though I am currently on a five day wilderness hike in Idyllwild (don’t bother trying to find me and get an autograph; I wear a disguise whenever I’m out of the house), I wrote enough blog entries ahead of time so you’d never even know I was gone.

Except now I just told you, so I might as well take it a step further and blog on events I presume are going to occur by the time you read this on Friday, even though I’m writing it on Tuesday.

So what’s the deal with Hannah Montana killing herself? I mean, we all knew she was depressed, but I guess something must have just really pushed her over the edge.

In a totally unrelated story, our own Daniel O’Brien has announced he is quitting blogging, as the Hannah Montana thing was really all he’s got.

We’ll miss you Danny. Maybe now that Bush has been elected to a third “bonus term” you can reprint reader comments about him.

Unless of course your draft number comes up. But I hear Iran is nice this time of year, even with the nuclear winter.

And hey, while you’re over there you can catch a USO show starring America’s newest teen pop sensation, the Propped Up Remains of Lindsay Lohan!

Don’t forget to snap some photos of her with your iDeviceThatDoesEverything.

Also, bears have representation in the Senate now.

See you on Monday, fuckers! I better see nothing but positive comments when I get back. Remember, I have absolutely no way of defending myself and you’re anonymous Internet readers, so it’s your duty to display the utmost respect and sensitivity.

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When not blogging for Cracked, Michael walks up steep things with heavy weights on his back for fun and then has the brass to make fun of other people.

Normally, I wouldn’t comment on a video. That’s really an art best left to semi-literate, secular, Satanists like my cohort Ross Wolinsky, but while cruising FoxNews, I saw something truly shocking. A story on Lindsay Lohan that defied all expectations.

Was she high? No. Was she having anonymous sex with a stranger? No. Was she exposing her genitalia? No. So where’s the story?

Well, according to FoxNews, LiLo was furious that photographers were snapping pictures of her from behind. Click here to watch Lindsay get mad FoxNews teased.

So I clicked. I must say, her level of anger is truly terrifying. The way she screams. The flailing of arms, the spewing of expletives, the way she devours a baby kitten alive. Or the way she actually does none of that. Personally, I’ve gotten more pissed off waiting in a fast food drive thru line.

But God bless FoxNews. Why would you ever let photographic evidence prevent you from writing a story about a “fuming” celebutante who “stormed off”? Oh, and God bless FoxNews for encrypting its vids with some code that required me to do the most awkward screen shot of all time. (And yes, I tried full screen, but it didn’t work).

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Check out some more Gladstone over HERE and OVER HERE.

Don’t know if you’ve checked the U.S. section of CNN’s website lately, but they do this thing where they split America up into four sections to help you decide which part of our great land sucks more.

Well, in truth, that might not be their actual intent, but that’s the end result because they only seem to pick the most horrifyingly prurient stories they can find. The stories are in no way meant to be specific to the region’s particularized issues. There’s no terror alert section for the Northeast, no Hollywood minute for the West. It’s just stories about teenagers pushing grandmas down stairways for welfare checks.

So here’s the deal. I thought I’d give you four stories. One of them I’ll make up.

See if you can spot the fake.

And then vote on the most horrifying.

NORTHEAST

5 kids were removed from a home filled with feces, buckets of urine, and bedbugs. All of them were under nine. No parents were on the premises.

SOUTH

An Iraqi soldier currently at Fort Pierce, Florida was indicted for sending child porn to an undercover detective.

MIDWEST

An Ohio principal resigned after it was discovered he was writing erotic poetry under the name Antonio Love.

WEST

Cracked Blogger Michael Swaim attempted to rape his neighbor’s dog, but failed due to impotence.

Can you spot the fake story? That’s right. The Midwest. The principal’s actual pen name was Michael Swaim.

So, based on these CNN news stories, which section of America is the worst?

…and btw,

Gladstone’s Personal Weight Loss Update — Total Loss At Day 13: Three pounds.

9 more to go to no longer consider myself overweight. 19 in order to resume my old job as a Calvin Klein underwear model.

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Check out some more Gladstone over HERE and OVER HERE.

This week’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony accomplished two important feats: giving Justin Timberlake a forum for responding to Gladstone’s hateful comments about him, and bringing the debate as to whether Madonna or Leonard Cohen is a more important musical figure into the public consciousness where it belongs.

Concerning the former revelation, I’ll let J.T. speak for himself. During his speech honoring Madonna, he said “she has still found time to kiss someone I may or may not have publicly kissed myself while I was in the audience,” and “the world has always been full of Madonna wannabes, and I might have even dated a couple.”

Well, I think we all recall last Summer, when reports of “Gladstimberlake” and their late nights clubbing clogged every national news outlet. And who could forget their famous “coming out” appearance at the MTV Movie Awards?

But enough’s enough, Gladstone. We know you’re lonely, and bitter, and that you’ve gained an enormous amount of weight since the break-up, but get over it! He’s too much man for you, okay? Moving on.

I’ve always wondered about who was the most relevant, enduring, and important musician in Rock. Naturally, after long nights of flipping through my record collection and marveling at my own retro hipness, it always came down to two clear contenders: Leonard Cohen and Madonna.

I even made this chart to try and decide:

It seemed like Cohen was winning, but then I remembered that although his songs “read” very well, most of them sound like this (wait for 1:50). Plus, I saw this headline about Madonna that really worked in her favor.

Frankly, I was so turned around about the whole thing I nearly had one of my servants commit poignant suicide on a white duvee.

But, thanks to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Inducting Committee (comprised of Ace Frehly, Nigel Parry and Janis Joplin’s old pot dealer), this pressing issue may finally be dragged out into the open and, hopefully, resolved in some sort of violent deathmatch.

My thanks to you, Misters Frehly, Parry, and “Gizmo.” You have given all us music buffs some hope, and quite possibly saved my chambermaid’s life.

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Vote for Michael’s entry in the YOUTUBE SKETCHIES II Semi-Finals by clicking this link, then “next video” on the randomizer until you see his (”The Hot Farts”), then on the thumbs up. Complicated, isn’t it? Well, do it once per day per registered youtube account.

Last night, Amy Winehouse won some Grammys, performed on TV, and, likely, twitched in a fetal position from excruciating withdrawal symptoms. But sometime after the first two events, and prior to the third, she did something really exciting: she recorded an interview with me for an episode of the Cracked Celebrity News.

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Check out some more Gladstone HERE and HERE. And tomorrow, be sure to check the Cracked.com home page for a new Those Aren’t Muskets! Valentine’s Day skit written by Cracked bloggers Michael Swaim and Gladstone.

I first saw Arrested Development when I was a Freshman in college (ah, so long ago it was), and I was surrounded by six suitemates who failed to recognize its excellence. Instead, they’d wander through the common room having loud conversations while I watched, eyes aglow with epiphany. Then they’d all get together to watch Smallville every week and I’d wonder what the fuck.

As a failing comedy writer, the show was a lot of things for me: a revelation about the state of the modern sitcom, an education about how to do high farce and do it well, and an assurance that the bastards don’t appreciate genius anymore anyway. Also, it had a lot of gay jokes and David Cross in tiny shorts.

So the fact that an Arrested Development movie is seeming more and more likely is nothing short of bitchin’. And while part of me slathers for a return of the series (maybe if I get everyone I know to see the movie a dozen times, they’ll bring it back!), most of me is just grateful there’s going to be more illusions, more awkward quasi-incest, more shallow, self-centered in-fighting and spontaneous acts of ill-fated generosity, and of course, more lessons.

That’s all. No jokes exactly, just overwhelming enthusiasm and joy at this development. I think I may dance naked in a field later, which could be kind of funny if you didn’t know how many psychotropic drugs I was on.

But I am curious: is there anyone out there in Cracked-land who hates this show? I mean absolutely hates it. Not just to single you out for ridicule (although that seems inevitable, you dunderheaded half-wit), but because the fact that this show got cancelled really is surprising to me. What about it turned off a large majority of viewers? Or was it just on at the wrong time, what? Do you hate laughter? If so, may I direct you to the posts of my fellow bloggers?

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When not blogging for Cracked, Michael makes videos that aren’t as good as Arrested Development as head writer and co-founder of Those Aren’t Muskets!