Cracked.com’s Headitor, (that’s “Head Editor” shortened to just one word, Sports Fans, and you’re welcome), Jack O’Brien called all of the bloggers for a very important meeting. Even Cracked and Week In Douchebaggery Superstar Lex Friedman was in attendance. I hate being woken up in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon, so I was already eager for the meeting to end.

“What’s this all about, Jim,” I asked.

“Please stop calling me ‘Jim,’” Jack responded. Lately I’d been trying to establish a Batman-Commissioner Gordon relationship between me and Jack. So far, he hasn’t been behind it. Incidentally, that’s also the reason why I keep breaking in through his window whenever I want to speak with him. Also, why I keep throwing smoke bombs at his family. Lex spoke up.

“Guys, thanks for coming out today, I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it, Lex & the City,” I answered.

“Don’t call him that,” Jack said.

“Anyway, the reason I called this meeting is because I want us to start shifting the focus of our articles and blog posts into a new direction,” Lex went on. The bloggers all got nervous. Me especially. Unless the new focus is “Things Found in Hannah Montana’s Trash,” I’m totally up shit’s creek.

“Why,” Swaim asked. Lex started passing around some documents to everyone.

“On these sheets, you’ll find a list of the top words and phrases people have typed into various search engines that lead them to this site. For example, about 150,000 people found us by typing the word ‘Cracked’ into Google, which makes sense.” I didn’t know why exactly that made sense, but I know better than to question Lex Friedman. “What I need you bloggers to do is to go through the other top words and phrases and start writing about that.”

“I’m not sure… You want us to pander” Gladstone said.

“I think what Lexas Chainsaw Massacre is trying to say,” I began, “is that we need more content that directly involves things found in Hannah Montana’s garbage.”

“That’s not even close to what I’m trying to say. Even a little bit. Okay, look: For example, according these records, 5,091 people found Cracked by typing ‘inspirational songs’ into a search engine. So, Bucholz, maybe you could do a post on-” Bucholz interrupted him as soon as his name was mentioned.

“I’m not doing shit. I’m gonna write about what I want, whenever I want to. Hope you fuckers like the Olympics.” He then got on his motorcycle and road off.
For a while, nothing happened.
Then, after nothing stopped happening, things started to happen. Specifically, Ross spoke.

“Is anyone else, like, totally terrified of Bucholz?” I seriously almost crapped all over the place, Bucholz is scary as hell.

(more…)

As some of the more pop culture knowledgeable readers have already deduced from that headline, Vanilla Ice was arrested yesterday on a battery charge. Apparently, his wife bought an expensive bedroom set and, as a result, Vanilla pushed her, right in front of their daughter.

I…I’m sorry, I can’t just report on this story. I have a confession, Readers, and I need your advice on this one. I have such a guilty conscience, and I feel like I may somehow be responsible for Ice’s actions. Let me just start at the beginning. I’ll tell you this story, and you let me know if I could have done anything to prevent this mess.
Last Friday, I was at Jay-Z and Beyonce’s wedding. Don’t beat yourself up if you weren’t invited, the guest list was very small. Mostly just family, Kanye, Dame, me, Vanilla Ice, some of the Nets and Nas, (they’re cool now). I think one of Destiny’s children was in attendance do, but hell if I know. Beyonce and I don’t really get along. (I didn’t like Dreamgirls. Fucking kill me.)

It was a beautiful ceremony. Nas gave an inspiring speech as the best man and Kanye released, like, a thousand doves, (motherfucker loves doves, I’ll tell ya). There was a nice jazz band for the reception and the food was really terrific. I remember walking up to Jay-Z to hand him his present, and I remember razzing him a little bit about his recent marriage.
“So, Hova,” I said with a smirk, “you’re finally married, huh?”
“Chyeah,” He said.
“What about all that talk, huh? I thought you were a pimp in every sense of the word, Jay. I thought you giving your heart to a woman would never happen and that, further, you’d be forever mackin?” His face turned bright red. “I’m messing with you, Sean, ahah, gosh, you get so nervous sometimes. Anyway, I got you a clock radio. It’s waterproof, so you can use it in the shower.”

Anyway, it was at the reception when I ran into Vanilla Ice and he did not look good.
“What’s wrong, Robert? Where’s Mrs. Van Winkle?”
“Oh, hey D.O.B., I didn’t see you there. Laura’s not coming tonight, we’re having some… problems.” He seemed really broken up.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“We…We just keep arguing. Arguing over stupid shit, you know? I mean, how do I even know if I’m really in love with her?”
I sat him down.
“Love is very simple, Ice. When you’re in love, you can just feel it. Something grabs a hold of you tightly. Love flows, like a harpoon, not just daily, but nightly, too.”

“Wow. That was beautiful.” He then proceeded to tell me all about his marital troubles and how that pesky wife of his just keeps spending all of the money he’s earned (?) over the past few decades.
To be fair, I never really liked Laura. I always thought she was just using him for his money, connections and his locked position as a laughably obscure pop celebrity, (residing in a place I’ve named Popscurity). But, as much as I think Laura Van Winkle has always been a gold-digging opportunist, I’ve always kept my mouth shut about it. Who am I to intervene, you know?

“I mean, I definitely love her,” Ice said as the reception was winding down. “But she just keeps spending all of my dough-flow, yo. Just last week, she bought a fridge, a wine rack, and two new bedroom sets. Two! What is that?” Now, here’s where I think I might have offered some bad advice that might make me slightly, (slightly), responsible.
“Well, I’ve always had a pretty simple rule about this sort of thing, Ice. I say, if Laura buys one more bedroom set, I say you should just push her.”
“Push her?”
“Yep. Right onto the floor. It’s been my experience that women love being on the floor.” He considered this and smiled.
“Wow. Thanks DOB, you’re the best.”
“Hey man, it ain’t no thing. Anything less than the best is a felony. Oh, one more thing, when you push her, make sure your daughter’s around. Yeah.”

So what do you think? Do you think I might have, in some way, inspired Vanilla Ice to push his wife? I mean, in my defense, I was speaking metaphorically. Like, women love being on the floor of our hearts, you know? You’ve heard that expression before. You have to (figuratively) push women (with love) onto the floor (of our hearts), you know? I can’t be held responsible if Vanilla Ice has to take everything literally, right? Right?