I sat in a dimly lit room, sweating, though it was unclear if that was a result of my nerves or the room’s shockingly hot temperature. Special Agent Jarvis Ham squinted at me through a thick cloud of cigarette smoke across the long, oak table that separated us.
At least, I think it was oak. I’m not great at identifying types of wood based on looking at it. One of those things I wish I was good at but I just never really dedicated the time to it, you know? That’s the way it goes I guess. I discreetly rubbed my index finger along the side of the table. I don’t know why.
If I can’t decipher what wood this is based on sight, what makes me think my wood-decoding mutant power lies in my hands?
It does not.
“I wonder if you realize,” Special Agent Ham began, “just how much trouble you’re in, son. ” He took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly. “I can’t divulge too many details until my partner gets here, but, boy, if trouble were cheddar, you could open up a cheese shop.”
“Uh huh,” I said absently as I lowered my nose to the table, sniffing it as subtly as I could. Special Agent Ham didn’t seem too concerned with my table-smelling; apparently being a tough, hardened, federal agent stereotype was very time consuming.
Special Agent Ham was a tall man, tall like a mountain. A Mountain of Ham. His hair was cropped short, as I imagine is the protocol for tough-looking officer archetypes.
“Boy,” Special Agent Ham said, “I’ve seen a lot of punks come through this office.” He leaned in menacingly and lowered his voice to a gravelly whisper. “But you, motherfucker, take the cake.” I leaned in and lowered my voice to a delightful chirp.
“What is this, oak? Come on, tell me, is this oak?” Before Special Agent Ham had a chance to answer, his partner, whose name I desperately hope is Special Agent And Eggs, entered the interrogation room, carrying a file and a small, unmarked bag.
“Mr. O’Brien,” he said emotionlessly, “I’m Special Agent Connor McCloud. Sorry to keep you waiting. I trust Agent Ham has kept you comfortable?”
“He and I were just chatting,” Agent Ham said. His tone implied that he was using “chatting” euphemistically, which I don’t understand because we literally were just chatting. Agent McCloud smiled and started busying himself with the file he was holding. He had short blond hair parted to one side and he wore inexpensive-looking glasses. He dressed like a man who shopped with function, and not style, in mind. I was more than a little disappointed that so cool a name was wasted on so dorky a man. If I was named Connor McCloud, I’d fight star monsters and fuck space mermaids. The real Connor McCloud shops at Target.
McCloud was clearly the “good cop” in this cheap, hastily conceived relationship. He smiled a lot, asked me how I was doing, that sort of thing. Special Agent Ham called me “son,” a lot, but he mostly looked nothing like my father. He was black, was probably the biggest difference. He reminded me of Denzel Washington in Training Day, or Don Cheadle, or Morris Chestnut. Or Morgan Freeman and Dave Chappelle or Seal or Cedric the Entertainer.
Wait, is it racist that he makes me think of every black person I’ve ever seen? He does sort of look like Whoopi Goldberg. I tapped the bottom of the table, trying to see if it made a sound that would somehow click in my brain as the sound an oak table would make when knocked. Then I remembered that I didn’t have a database of wood sounds stored in my mind and therefore would have nothing to compare the sound to. I kept tapping anyway. Got shit else to do.
“Why don’t we get started with the obvious,” Agent McCloud started, obviously. “Do you know why the IRS called you?”
“I have a pretty vague idea,” I said, though I’m sure, with the corner of the table in my mouth, my answer was muffled just slightly.
“It’s about your taxes, Mr. O’Brien.”
“Oh,” I said, picking splinters out from between my teeth. “Oh, in that case, no, I have no idea why I was called here. I thought it was totally this… other thing, or whatever. Wow, taxes, no, I hadn’t even considered that.” I didn’t have the slightest clue what problem they might have found with my taxes, but I was relieved to learn that this had nothing to do with the skeleton of Pocahontas that I kept preserved in my pantry. At least that’s safe. For now.
“You’re acting pretty cool for someone sittin’ shoulder-deep in shit soup,” Agent Ham said. I am pretty cool, I thought, as I licked my lips. The table tasted sort of like Popsicle sticks. What kind of wood was that? Pine?
“The way I see it,” Agent Ham continued, “is that you’re going to rot for a long time, no matter how you spin it.” They wouldn’t use pine for Popsicle sticks, right? They’d use something cheap, I’m sure of it.
(Is pine cheap?)
“You got anything to say for yourself?”
“Is pine cheap?” Blank stares from both agents. I decided to clarify. “Is pine one of the cheaper woods?” Still nothing. “Relative to other woods, where does pine fall on the spectrum of cost? Towards the low end or to the… to the higher end?” Suddenly, Special Agent Ham reached all the way across the (balsawood?) table, grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and lifted me right out of my chair.
“What the fuck is your problem? You think the IRS is all fun and games or something?” I guess I’d never really thought about it that seriously but now that he’s bringing it up, I suppose I figured there were probably a few games. Like, on Fridays, maybe. Every office has fun once in a while. I put on my serious face.
“No, Sir, but I imagined there were some games and maybe the occasional inter-office contest. Is that wrong?” Ham shoved me back down in my chair. Hard. He raised his fist to hit me (also hard, I imagined) when Special Agent McCloud waved him off.
“You’ll have to excuse Agent Ham,” he said, excusably, “he just gets a little bit…frustrated.”
“Only when it comes to lawbreakers,” Ham added, his eyes staring daggers into mine. With my hands under the table and out of sight, I quietly started picking at the bottom of the table, hoping to get a few wood shavings. Worst case scenario, I could send these off to a lab somewhere and find out what kind of wood it was, even though I don’t technically remember why I even care.
“Well, you know what they say,” I tell Agent Ham, “If lawbreakers were jawbreakers…” I bow my head and bounce my extended palms for a few beats, as if to say Go ahead, you know the rest.
“Who says that? No one says that. That doesn’t even-”
“Agent Ham,” Agent McCloud interrupted, “have a seat. Mr. O’Brien, let’s get right down to it: Do you remember anything odd about the way you filled out your taxes?”
“Nope, everything seemed to be in order on my end. I used that computer program… whatever it’s called.”
“Turbo Tax,” Agent McCloud offered.
“Sure,” I said, but I’m almost positive my version was called Wolfenstein.
“Well, Mr. O’Brien, the discrepancies on your tax form range from the small and fixable to the large and, to be honest, somewhat perplexing. You put down three different social security numbers, all of them belonging to deceased people.”
“Yeah, I’ve got a bunch more, too, if you need them.”
“You shouldn’t really have any extra Social Security numbers, we only wanted yours. This is sort of a problem, Mr. O’Brien.” I understood.
“Ah,” I said, “Gotcha. A Problem. Right, sounds pretty serious. If only there was some way this problem could disappear. Shouldn’t be too difficult. Things disappear all the time.” While I squinted into the far corner of the interrogation room, seemingly distracted by nothing in particular, I surreptitiously slid an envelope across the table. “Why, just today, one of my envelopes full of Social Security numbers disappeared. Weird, right?” I winked at Agent McCloud, because I was being sneaky. And because I’m very good at winking.
“Let’s get back to your taxes, Mr. O’Brien. You also mentioned on your form that you ran for president?”
“Oh, totes. There’s that section about donating money to the presidential campaign, right?”
“So, I figured if suckers are gonna send over $3 to a presidential candidate, I might as well remind the world that I threw my hat into the ring last year with the reanimated corpse of Ol’ Dirty Bastard as my running mate. See if I can collect some of that scratch, know what I mean?”
“You did not run for president,” Agent Ham growled.
“Sure I did. We ran on a platform of Social Security Numbers for Everyone.”
“I’m saying it’s impossible for you to have run for president.”
“And I’m saying that that’s exactly the kind of stilted, unambitious thinking that’s going to make America a two-party country forever,” I said. Agent McCloud faced Agent Ham and widened his eyes and leaned forward slightly, like he was trying to mime “See? I told you.” Guess I’m not the only one to pick up on Ham’s inability to think outside the box.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with trying to give Americans a choice, Mr. O’Brien. As much as I’d love to discuss this with you, we do really have to move on,” McCloud said, moving on. “Now, when asked for your Head of Household, you put ‘Jack O’Brien.’ Now, this is your father?”
“No, we’re not related. I just want you to tax him any time you would tax me. He’s the head of a household. So yeah, just tax him extra. Really, go nuts.”
“Oh, we are,” Agent McCloud said casually, “but for completely unrelated reasons.” I must remember to ask Jack about that. Agent Ham was getting restless.
“Why are you wasting time on this shit? What about the other garbage this lunatic pulled? His form’s got more holes than a hunk of Swiss.” Was that the second cheese reference from him today? That’s weird. “Did you ask him about Third Party Designee?”
“I was getting to that,” Agent McCloud replied gettingly. “Mr. O’Brien, I’m at a loss. Here, under Third Party Designee, you sent us your severed thumb.” I opened my hands and wiggled my fingers broadly.
“I sent you a severed thumb, you filled in those blanks yourself, Agent McCloud. Don’t make your presumptuousness my problem. You know what happens when you assume, don’t you?” In case they didn’t, I decided to clarify: “When you assume, you make jawbreakers-”
“Stop talking about jawbreakers!”
“Out candy and nuts,” I finished meekly. Special Agent Connor McCloud took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes which, in addition to highlighting his exhaustion, is a surefire way to get pinkeye, particularly when holding my tax form which, God knows, is just silly with feces.
“Normally we don’t feel we need to specify this, but severed limbs are not admissible forms of currency. Or proper designees, or… or, just everything, Mr. O’Brien, just don’t send us things like that, please. We appreciate the gesture, we just have no way of filing that.”
“Why file it at all? Why not just use fingernail clippers!” Agent McCloud and I had a neat little laugh about that. Special Agent Ham was not amused.
“Continuing,” he said, “I’d like you to explain this.” He slid a piece of paper across the table.
“OK, yes, we should get down to business. Now, first of all, it looks like under exemptions you put your own box for ‘Taxes,’” Agent McCloud said.
“Yes,” I confirmed, “and, more importantly, I’d like you to please note that I checked that box, so to say that I would like to be exempt from taxes this year. All taxes.”
“You can’t make your own boxes,” Agent Ham barked. Without being condescending, I slid the paper back to Ham and pointed to the spot where I made the little box, to assure him that I could, and in fact I did.
“It’s right up there under exemptions,” I added helpfully, in case he still couldn’t see it. Agent Ham started loosening his tie and cracking his knuckles, which seemed like a strange way of saying ‘Thank you.’
“Why don’t we just move on… Would you care to explain the dependents section?”
“Oh, no doubt. I allegedly have a few kids running around, but I’m not spending a dime until I see some proof that they’re actually mine. And not the kind of proof you can get from a doctor and a blood test, either. Until then, I have no on-the-record knowledge of these children and have never spoken to them, especially not the girl one. Oh, and I put ‘maybe a few more’ because I wasn’t sure if these other alleged kids counted. Do mixed race babies count? Like, as people?” A full minute passed, while McCloud stared at the floor and Ham audibly coaxed an aneurysm into submission. Finally, Ham spoke up.
“Mr. O’Brien, there was a whole lot wrong with that explanation. I don’t- I’m not even sure I know what to do. Not just with your taxes, but in life. I mean that I’m honestly not sure if I can live in a world that allows a person like you to exist. If you received some justice, I mean… If… If you- But you didn’t, and so… so- If…. but…” He was getting choked up. I figured I’d help him out.
“If ‘If’s and but’s’ were candies and jawbreakers-” Agent Ham threw a stapler at my head.
“Let me get this straight,” Ham started, once he was out of staplers.”You refuse to legally acknowledge these kids as yours because you don’t want to pay any child support, but you’re still claiming them as dependents and demanding a refund? And not one bit of that sounds off to you?”
“Sounds fine to me, Agent Ham.” He was glaring at me, and I needed some way to soothe him. “It sounds about as right as Gouda, you know?”
“The boy’s got a point,” Agent McCloud said, as he wrote a check for the DOB/ODB campaign fund.
“He does not have a point, McCloud. I know you’re the superior agent on this case, but your handling of this situation is just a bit delicate for my tastes.” Agent Ham stood up, his eyes glistening with tears that were formed, but not quite yet ready to fall. He held his head up high, looking like Terrence Howard or Mos Def or Theo Huxtable. As quick as he was earlier to lose his temper, Agent Ham’s speech now was firm and measured. He spoke with the eloquence and passion of a man who truly cared about and believed in his subject.
“We have a system of laws in this country, Mr. O’Brien, and that you share in the benefits and freedoms inherent to being an American citizen means that you sign a intangible contract that binds you to those laws. By living here, by enjoying the luxury that is freedom, you agree to follow the rules that make said freedom possible. This unspoken social contract is what separates us, not just from the animals, but from those who live under tyranny and it is one of the most important aspects of this country. You are breaking your end of the contract, Mr. O’Brien, with your flagrant disregard for the rules this country has in place. This is a serious situation, and all you can do is rub the damn table and sit there with that brain dead, son-of-a-bitching smirk on your stupid face.”
“I just wanted to know if this table was birch or Bolivian rosewood.”
“ It is clearly a steel table.”
“Huh. So it is. Boy, that’s a little embarrassing.”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” McCloud said.
“Man,” I started, “between Ham on my back and this egg on my face, I’ve got quite a balanced breakfast going on!” Agent McCloud and I slapped high five.
“Whew, this kid’s a riot, this kid. Ham, did you hear this? The kid’s alright. Shit.”
“Dammit, McCloud, you’re handling plutonium with kid’s gloves. This is serious. I can no longer take-”
“Then don’t take it anymore, Ham. Why don’t you go for a walk, or something? Leave me and the kid for a while, would that be alright, kid?”
I mumbled something in the affirmative, but really I was pretty distracted licking the table to find out what kind of steel it was. Bolivian Red, maybe? Or the kind they use on Popsicle sticks, but in the future.
“Yeah,” Agent Ham said, “yeah, maybe I should… take a walk.” He shuffled out of the interrogation room, a broken shell of a man. McCloud gave me one of those What-are-ya-gonna-do? shrugs and we shared a brief chuckle.
“So, McCloud, level with me: Is this whole tax thing really that big a deal, or is Agent Ham getting all uppity for no reason?”
“It is a bit troubling, but, uh, I wouldn’t worry about it, Mr. O’Brien,” Agent McCloud said, pocketing the Social Security numbers I’d slipped him earlier. “I have a feeling that this problem of yours will–How did you put it?–disappear.” He winked, and I winked back because, hey, winking opportunities are rare in these trying economic times.
“What about your partner,” I asked.
“Agent Ham? Oh, he’s harmless, he has no authority. He’s just a bit… over enthusiastic.”
“Yeah, weird guy.” I figured this was as good a time as any to crack this little mystery. “So what’s with Ham and ‘cheese,’ anyway?” McCloud tilted his head to the side, as if this was the first time he’d noticed Ham’s odd tendency to relate things to cheese.
“What’s with Ham and cheese,” he repeated. “Mayo, usually, and certainly bread. I like a little lettuce, myself.”
We laughed for about three and a half hours.
This entry was posted on Friday, April 10th, 2009 at 4:00 am and is filed under tax. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
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September 27th, 2009 at 2:20 am
Tax write-off Question…
Taxes Chainsaw Massacre: How To Handle The IRS | Cracked.com is an excellent post about the Tax write-off Question….
September 21st, 2009 at 3:30 pm
It is clearly a steel table.
September 17th, 2009 at 7:24 pm
Awesome.
I love this.
September 11th, 2009 at 8:07 pm
i love you a little bit deep in my soul.
i’ve read this story about four times now. cracks me up every time.
August 21st, 2009 at 11:30 am
This was wonderful. I almost peed myself laughing!
August 11th, 2009 at 4:06 am
ooooh, Irwin R. Shyster reference.
August 4th, 2009 at 5:38 pm
This is definitely one of the funniest things I’ve ever read. Absolute genius.
July 18th, 2009 at 1:30 am
Did you ever write for Nickelodeon? (That’s a serious question. Parts of this remind me of something, something else. Haha)
July 2nd, 2009 at 5:58 pm
this article was awesome! it made me laugh almost as hard as the sims 3 experiment “I just wanted to know if this table was birch or Bolivian rosewood.”“ It is clearly a steel table.” priceless!
June 27th, 2009 at 11:29 pm
This will provide facebook status fodder for months. Thank you DOB
June 24th, 2009 at 8:41 pm
Wow I love these articles, O’Brien you are a fucking genius!
I was laughing basically the entire time I was reading this.
June 12th, 2009 at 11:07 pm
“You can’t make your own boxes,” Agent Ham barked. Without being condescending, I slid the paper back to Ham and pointed to the spot where I made the little box, to assure him that I could, and in fact I did.
I love these kind of quotes.
May 21st, 2009 at 12:34 pm
“Man,” I started, “between Ham on my back and this egg on my face, I’ve got quite a balanced breakfast going on!” Agent McCloud and I slapped high five.
Fucking Genious. Enough said.
May 14th, 2009 at 1:18 pm
Holy crap that was fucking hilarious. Possibly the best article I’ve read on cracked or the internet as a whole which is pretty impressive considering that it was mostly about which type of wood a steel table was made of.
May 14th, 2009 at 8:00 am
That was great, Classic.
May 9th, 2009 at 11:25 pm
That sir was absurd.
And I had a riot reading it.
Seriously, I threw a brick through a window, stole some animals, and its a high probability that someone out there is really hurt. Like, REALLY hurt. For real.
This was awesomely hilarious dude keep ‘em coming out. It’s been over five minutes and I’m still grinning.
May 4th, 2009 at 7:24 pm
[...] “How to Handle the IRS” by Daniel O’Brien. Dan O’Brien writes with cracked.com, and he might actually be one of the funniest writers [...]
May 1st, 2009 at 6:04 pm
I’m with Ops, this article reminds me of Douglas Adams.
Well done DOB
(DOB-ODB 2012!)
May 1st, 2009 at 4:43 am
Hahaha. Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeettt
April 30th, 2009 at 1:08 pm
I came.
Alot.
April 26th, 2009 at 1:34 pm
fucking fantastic! can i have your babies now? please?
April 25th, 2009 at 2:38 pm
FUCKING EPIC!!!
i didnt stop laughing for ages
i swear i was fuckin crying
April 23rd, 2009 at 5:54 am
This reminds me of something I wrote a while back… (cue old flash pack effect)
The Fartist
Ebay user McAfrodelight Has wandered into the realm of skin fart music composition with his unique instrument. Ass breath hip hop beats.
“Nothing beats the tight bass like an ass with bad morning breath” Says Delight, who reports that he eats everything from Uncooked beef to week old bratwurst to fill his “palette.”
Delight has been playing the Gas Hop music, a genre he invented, for 5 years, and he shows no signs of slowing down.
“When I’m beat boxing at the Fling Dinger downtown (a nightclub) nobody realizes that I’m farting the beats, not using my mouth” says Delight. Unfortunately, after that particularly extended bout of gas passage, Delight caused two dozen out of the clubs 400 attendees to pass out.
“In this game theres risks, and if people gonna come see my ish, feel my ill ish, they gonna smell my ish!” Says Delight over a bowl of Hungry Man Spicy Chili.
I asked him a few questions about his profession.
“So Delight, you say you are a skin fartist as well as the traditional fartist, but your farts are always the real thing. Is this a tactic to lure people closer to you, or do you not use skin farts to complement your gas?”
“Reggie, I’ve been a fartist for a long time now, since you was a little poop stinking up a mans pantalones. People’s not ready for the Delightskin fart, fart fart combo. They just isn’t ready yet to feel the thunder!”
“I feel ya. How do you create that hi hat sound?”
“Slapping my butt cheeks together, how else would I do it?”
“I have no idea. When do you get inspired?”
“Usually… Usually when I’m on the can, just thinking. I feel this surge of creatif energy, and just drop a beat right there in the turd stadium. I love the reverb in the bowl, and usually record my album with a mic stickin in the toilet between my legs. I do my illest ish when I’m howling serious gas farts into my toilet. That shit is explosive, yo.
“That is profound. Insiders say you once farted on a mans head until he went deaf. What is your ruling on that accusation?”
“Man, he was all up in my behind while I was ‘freestylin!’ I thought he was trying to ass ass inate me. What’m I suppose to do, let ‘im?”
“In that case, bravo, you are a great American”
Delight clearly has a lot on his plate, and will be further inspired to create fartracks this upcoming summer. Check out his new album, “Farts in a wind tunnel: speed cheeks and freaky deeks.” Available now.”
April 19th, 2009 at 5:02 pm
cant we all get along
April 17th, 2009 at 5:52 pm
Vagina!
April 17th, 2009 at 3:16 am
Although this article is superb, it is perhaps overshadowed by doctorchaosfromtheplanetzerptron’s comment.
April 16th, 2009 at 8:28 pm
I know this comment is white noise, but hilarious article.
Keep it up.
April 16th, 2009 at 8:12 am
I’m detecting a large amount of win in this sector.
April 16th, 2009 at 3:58 am
That…was…fucking…EPIC. I would turn gay for you Dan, if only there weren’t so many hot chicks that need my man meat.
April 15th, 2009 at 3:49 pm
Hilarious crap
April 15th, 2009 at 2:36 pm
Actually, this might be the funniest column I’ve read on Cracked. Reminds me of some Douglas Adams stuff ;o
April 15th, 2009 at 10:19 am
I did not stop laughing at any point while I read this. I love you DOB.
April 14th, 2009 at 11:06 am
Holy crap funny as hell
April 14th, 2009 at 10:25 am
““ It is clearly a steel table.””- Best line.
That was so amazing DOB, I love your writing.
April 14th, 2009 at 2:20 am
LOL. massive LOL.
April 13th, 2009 at 10:07 pm
who IS graham norton?
April 13th, 2009 at 8:38 pm
mmm….graham norton winkie….
April 13th, 2009 at 8:05 pm
AMAZING.
April 13th, 2009 at 6:12 pm
This is a masterpeice, DOB.
April 13th, 2009 at 4:18 pm
Doctorchaos said,
“I feel physically disgusted every time I read this site’s HORRENDOUS attempt at comedy.” Well Dr. Chaos there is a simple solution to your disgust ……DON’T FUCKNG READ IT YOU ASSWIPE!!!!!
And as far as your opinions about how this site should be run, Well we have a saying here in the good Ol’ US of A, and I’m sure all countries have a variation of it. Quite simply it states……
Opinions are like assholes, everybody has one and most of them stink.
Yours definitely fall into the stink category, like your opinions stink so bad they would gagged a motherfucking maggot eating twenty day old hamburger meat that someone carried around in their crotch.
Your opinions stink so goddamn bad they gag people like a vulture would gagged trying to eat the southbound end of a of dead dog, with mange, buried under a land fill full of shitty used diapers, from babies that had dysentery and cholera.
Your opinions stink so bad they would gag people worse than Graham Norton trying to deep throat an eighteen inch dick would gag.
So what I guess I’m trying to say is put that cock ring in your mouth and please for the love of SHUT THE FUCK UP ( or not, I’m retired and this give me something to do besides yard work)
To wrap up, I think my most important point can be summarized in one word…….BOOBS.
April 13th, 2009 at 3:49 pm
Someone ought to give you a book deal DOB.
April 13th, 2009 at 3:12 pm
I don’t want to say Cracked should ONLY do articles with lists, but I do prefer it when there are facts and interesting things to say, rather than complete fiction like this (or did this really happen?). It seems a bit self-indulgent; you should point something out then add to it, rather than creating comedy from scratch. Your personality is not that enthralling, I’m afraid (at least, not compared to the usual semi-educational articles).
April 13th, 2009 at 12:04 pm
Daniel, I can say without a word of a lie that this is the most recent thing I have ever read. Ever.
April 13th, 2009 at 11:11 am
That was the funniest thing ever!!
April 13th, 2009 at 9:18 am
this was not funny at all.
April 13th, 2009 at 8:03 am
Wow, Dan’s book is fantastic. I’m halfway through and am dreadfully intrigued. You’ve got a gift, a very admirable one.
April 13th, 2009 at 7:43 am
if your not real….am I real?
April 13th, 2009 at 6:48 am
I’ve never seen a woman’s vagina.
Some doubt I even exist.
April 13th, 2009 at 12:54 am
This was really funny, but a wee bit long-winded.
And where did your picture go, Dan? You’re so good-looking that I started to look forward to seeing your dapper picture on these, but now it’s gone. Oh, I’m not gay either, but you’re a handsome man. Put your picture back up!
April 12th, 2009 at 11:01 pm
I am so laden with hatred and rage for DOB and his pathetic cadre of dick inspired cro magnan man era retard fans that I feel physically disgusted every time I read this site’s HORRENDOUS attempt at comedy.
Speaking of comedy I was watching my sister get railed by an “friend” (lets call him Bingo our German Shepard) when I was naked this morning, and I thought to myself, how will I get back into the house from outside? I’m naked right, and I’d FORGOTTEN my keys! Ha…..good times. With Splooge
Cock Ring
April 12th, 2009 at 9:53 pm
sir, that was excellent! more please!!!
April 12th, 2009 at 8:38 pm
Why is Dan O’brian funny but Cracked articles not?
April 12th, 2009 at 6:09 pm
This is quite possibly the funniest thing I’ve ever read in my life. I salute you DOB.
April 12th, 2009 at 4:57 pm
That was utterly hysterical. Thank you.
April 12th, 2009 at 1:56 pm
I love u Daniel o’brien. ow i mybe slighlyt un thinking right cause i didnt take me pills yesterday, so im i0n withdrawl, and at one pint in treading this article, i realized i was laughing, but i had no idea for how long, or really why. um. i poured water on my head in the kitchen today. my shirt got wet. i think i tried to take my arm off too. im not even lying.
i like you DOB. i feel like u would understand me right now.
imcant ermember why my arm hurts. . . . oh. right, the taking it off thing, cool
April 12th, 2009 at 12:07 pm
Come on Dan. Still sittin’ here. Waiting. Just waiting for the tender & juicy…
This is no bullshit, buddy.
I get your American humour now… Now bring it in. And shower me in the gravy.
You know I want it
April 12th, 2009 at 12:05 pm
DOB, I take it back. Maybe it’s the weather, or maybe it’s the crystal meth I’ve been freebasing all morning, but fuck it. I love you, man. Love you so goddamn much.
Seriously, present the dick.
Go on.
I’ll take it.
April 12th, 2009 at 10:42 am
Was this some kind of tongue-in-cheek commentary on (or reference to) the President’s inability to find Cabinet members who haven’t tried (and succeeded) to fuck the IRS over for years at a time?
‘Cause that’s what I took from it. Screw you, Tom Daschle. Screw. You.
April 12th, 2009 at 5:40 am
spectacular.
April 12th, 2009 at 4:26 am
If a video of this was made, a black hole of awesomeness would arise and wipe out humanity.
April 12th, 2009 at 1:33 am
This is so much better than a lot of the others lately - MUCH more DOB
April 11th, 2009 at 10:14 pm
I just got back from having lunch with Queen Elizibeth the Second, and uh, gotta tell ya: LOVES assplay. Just adores it. If assplay was a jazz band, she’s be like 18 saxaphones with her under wear stuffed into the open part
April 11th, 2009 at 9:44 pm
I traveled back in time to kill DOB. But I overshot and wound up at the fall of the Berlin Wall, and I was swept away in a vast greasy tundra of cock, which I just had to pack into my mouth. Then I forgot what I was supposed to be doing, and I just went with it.
April 11th, 2009 at 8:40 pm
Is there anyone who reads cracked that hasn’t read DOB’s book?
It’s a fucking masterpiece. “Get in the fucking van” made me laugh so hard I nearly blacked out. Go read it!
April 11th, 2009 at 8:07 pm
DOB/ODB in 2012. Crack the vote, everyone.
And SuperUltraMagicChaosDoctor, Ph.D., or whatever he called himself in ironic homage to the now-infamous hater, makes a great point: you should all read DOB’s book. Every one of you.
http://obrienfiction.blogspot.com/
I mean it, go do it now. Go ahead, I’ll wait.
April 11th, 2009 at 6:52 pm
Great job. This was awesome.
April 11th, 2009 at 6:48 pm
one other thing two, if Chaos is so bad for business why can he still post? I’m sure Cracked could get rid of him but why bother, he just makes the rest of us love cracked more….
April 11th, 2009 at 6:45 pm
Like it or not folks, doc C. down there is good for business. Whether he’s a creation of cracked, or a genuine reader, he will draw a crowd. How many of you open this site everyday wondering (with curiosity or hate) what Chaos will pipe up about? Racing through the article, maybe not even fully reading it, fingers twitching with anticipation of telling doc c. to get fucked. Something for everyone folks. For those that love, we have DOB right here. For those that hate, Choas has just posted a few minutes ago, pour out your anger and hatred with reckless abandon. If he is real, then he’s done an excellent job of gaining minor celebrity with his ridiculous posts, we think of cracked, we think of Chaos, so it goes. If Cracked made him up, then the readers direct all their ill will at him instead of the author. Think about it, after you finish the article, you judge it’s value of comedic worth, then (some) respond. If said article missed, you will probably say so, but chances are you’ve read the comments. Guess what, some other dickface has let the author have it good(doc C.) so instead of posting an apathetic “well, could have been better” you can now post a “suck my balls doctorchaos, I fucked you mom on a piano last night and she cried softly while tenderly probed her ass with my cock” sort of thing, then think, “YEAH, DOB & CRACKED ROCKS”!!!! FUCK DRCHAOS”. Attitudes change and we all keep coming back for love or hate. Good article DOB.
April 11th, 2009 at 6:26 pm
I’m guessing this is always how you do your taxes. I think I met agent Ham though. Then again, he sounds like every black guy I know. WAIT…
Oh shit.
April 11th, 2009 at 5:32 pm
Special Agent And Eggs. *fatal hilarity*
April 11th, 2009 at 1:58 pm
Now THIS is the DOB I fell in love with. Awwww yeeaahh.
April 11th, 2009 at 1:46 pm
Hysterical. I am continually amazed by your skills Mr. O’Brien. I would give someone else’s severed thumb to have half of your talent. If you would like to Yoda me, let me know, I would be eager to Luke you. (Those weren’t sex acts, I was simply implying that I would not find it disagreeable if you were to cling to my back and whisper cosmic secrets into my ear. Oh wait, maybe they are sex acts then).
April 11th, 2009 at 1:19 pm
Is it weird that this article made me hungry for egg McMuffins?
April 11th, 2009 at 12:46 pm
Gool old Cracked stuffs. Here are more fun videos, “Ridiculous Stunts I Learned in College” http://tv1.com/playlists/78
April 11th, 2009 at 12:33 pm
i think drchaos has been banned
April 11th, 2009 at 12:03 pm
You should publish a series of short stories like this one, I’m pretty sure you’d make the whole world a better, happier place.
April 11th, 2009 at 12:02 pm
Hilarious
April 11th, 2009 at 12:01 pm
Oh, ok, (maybe)Doctorchaos so you’re saying that maybe your penis wrote that or maybe you did. I get it.
Doesn’t matter, as I said before you both still dicks. You much more so than your actual “penis”
Also please get some help you’re a very sick person. Perhaps this website will help, if you didn’t like the others.
http://www3.interscience.wiley.com/journal/119016309/abstract?CRETRY=1&SRETRY=0
April 11th, 2009 at 11:28 am
Dan O’Brien is the best and my fave of all cracked writers, wooh! poor agent ham, i pity him
April 11th, 2009 at 10:00 am
Penis.
April 11th, 2009 at 9:47 am
“Before Special Agent Ham had a chance to answer, his partner, whose name I desperately hope is Special Agent And Eggs”
“I was more than a little disappointed that so cool a name was wasted on so dorky a man. If I was named Connor McCloud, I’d fight star monsters and fuck space mermaids. The real Connor McCloud shops at Target.”
“Special Agent Ham called me “son,” a lot, but he mostly looked nothing like my father. He was black, was probably the biggest difference”
Genius, absolute genius. Can I have your Bastard III?
April 11th, 2009 at 9:02 am
Bartender is begging to be made into a tv show.
April 11th, 2009 at 8:17 am
@giggle
Did you mean that Doctorchaos’s penis wrote that or just a penis in general wrote that?
Doesn’t matter, a penis or Doctorchaos’s penis they’re both dicks.
April 11th, 2009 at 7:44 am
penis
April 11th, 2009 at 7:34 am
I so don’t know who wrote that
April 11th, 2009 at 7:33 am
I am tired of you unceasingly unfunny morons posting as me, trying to be funny. This is further proof to pretty much all of my points, being that DOB is a talentless waste, and cracked readership has declined to little more than a slowly dying cesspit of spare chromosomes, and webbed footed idiots.
So anyway, there I am the other day, in some dairy farmers back field, fucking the butt-pussy of some yak until the cells in there stop dividing, smiling to myself and admiring the sunshine bouncing off my Authentic Steve Guttenberg Carey Mahoney Commemretive Police Academy Costume, and I thought to myself, I should really be using protection right about now. So after I skipped merrily over to a near by barn and relieved the stable boy of both his liver, and machete, I got right back on the “horse” (I mean yak). Then my Korean Anti-Allergy medication and my Portuguese Methadone met inside my brain, and made sweet sweet love. I’m not clear on what happened next, but a cursory glance would suggest I have been granted the powers of flight, post cognition, or “long term memory” as the skeptics call it, and a fully functional vagina. My penis seem to be in the mouth of a dead man dressed as…..Steve Guttenberg?
Holy Shit.
Cock-ring
April 11th, 2009 at 7:12 am
To those who say they want a DOB book.
http://obrienfiction.blogspot.com/2007/04/chapter-one-mike.html
April 11th, 2009 at 6:35 am
Hilarious
April 11th, 2009 at 6:08 am
I love you DOB, I want your cock….
April 11th, 2009 at 5:18 am
thank you DOB, thank you…
April 11th, 2009 at 3:32 am
That was great.
April 11th, 2009 at 3:11 am
I…I can’t feel my legs…
April 11th, 2009 at 3:08 am
Gods bless you, Dan. Gods bless you.
April 11th, 2009 at 2:25 am
so that table was definately steel?i thought they might have used a more space aged material like aluminum.aluminums space age right?and metal?
April 11th, 2009 at 12:53 am
*performs obeisance to the great DOB*
April 11th, 2009 at 12:51 am
LAWLZ, you guys have actually pushed Dr chaos into…submission? He only posted an essay once in this comments section (so far)…huh…even the big C can cry and hide when he finally realizes no one likes him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s getting nostalgic feelings from high school.
April 11th, 2009 at 12:23 am
It was my birthday yesterday, and I’m feeling a little rough this morning. “It is clearly a steel table” made me laugh so hard it nearly pushed me over the edge into vomit-country
April 10th, 2009 at 11:56 pm
IM TIRED IM GOING TO BED!!!
April 10th, 2009 at 11:47 pm
Skeleton of Pocahontas? Didn’t you and President Jackson once spit roast Pocohantas?
April 10th, 2009 at 11:44 pm
FUCK U ALL!!!
April 10th, 2009 at 11:42 pm
DONKEYBALLS!!!
April 10th, 2009 at 11:41 pm
THAT WAS EASYLY THE FUNNYEST THING I HAV EVER RED!!! GOOD FUCKING WORK LOL!!! U R EASYLY THE FUNNYEST RIGHTER ON THE HOLE WEBSIGHT!!! FUCK YES!!!
April 10th, 2009 at 11:33 pm
Holy crap, that was awesome!
April 10th, 2009 at 11:32 pm
Wow, just amazing. I never bothered registering (partly because I’m lazy) but for this article…I just had to. This has got to be the funniest thing I’ve read in years.
April 10th, 2009 at 10:42 pm
Brilliant, as usual, DOB. The table stuff was pure hilarity in word form.
April 10th, 2009 at 10:29 pm
Nice wok DOBarino. I no longer wish you to suffocate in a bag of dicks.
April 10th, 2009 at 9:52 pm
i visit this site every day. im not a member, never left a comment, never felt the need.
but seriously, the DOB is the fucking funniest man on the internet. this is pure brilliance.
good lord.
my first comment here on cracked.com is to profess my love for this man. please never die. the world needs you.
April 10th, 2009 at 9:44 pm
I died of laughter this ENTIRE article. Now, I usually enjoy the articles, and find them amusing. This one, holy fuck my neighbours must hate me. It is 2am and I was roaring with laughter. Rawr
You tell a mean story, I like these kinds of articles from you DOB.
April 10th, 2009 at 9:23 pm
Wow DOB I am a huge fan and always have been!
No wait, I hate you!
hmm… that isn’t right. Oh yeah, now I remember, I am fucking insane. Totally gerflubbered. Masochistic and drinking the redbull lemonade. Mighty with the penguins and subject to the naked mole rat sexuality.
Oh look, I must take my medicine, how happy must the angel be to dance on a pin. Hello man in white, is it my injection time, oh joy! to be an Australian who likes to take it from behind with a dingo at my side.
flubber flubber ouch teh needle stings. goetse.fr is my lovesite
April 10th, 2009 at 9:23 pm
So… where can I get social security numbers?
April 10th, 2009 at 9:19 pm
“Do mixed babies count, you know… as people?”
Loved it.
currently laughing my ass off. Great work.
April 10th, 2009 at 9:06 pm
I cracked up about how way through, except when I did I have no idea why. But….
“This is clearly a steel table.”
Brilliant. Give this man a Pulitzer.
April 10th, 2009 at 9:02 pm
The steel table line got me so good. Great article.
April 10th, 2009 at 8:41 pm
I’m not going to lie, I’ve never thought DOB was that special. but this… this was brilliant. I didn’t want it to end.
April 10th, 2009 at 8:32 pm
“IT IS CLEARLY A STEEL TABLE”
Totally cracked me up XD!!!
April 10th, 2009 at 8:07 pm
Come on Dan quit bullshitting these people. Why don’t you tell them about that former CPA, Lawyer, and IRS Auditor Sandy Botkin who’s been out giving seminars to working class Americans about how to write off all of their expenses. There’s a book called Lower your Taxes Big Time which he wrote which helped me lower my tax bracket down from 40% to 10% (I’m a Software Engineer BTW and yes technocrats love Cracked). I was able to take a vacation to Bali Indonesia and since it was only four days my CPA told me it was a 100% tax write off. Come on read that book it will make you wealthy!
April 10th, 2009 at 7:42 pm
you should write a book or something. [2] DOB–you are a genius.
April 10th, 2009 at 7:34 pm
You should donate your testicles to science, so that we may learn to create sperm as awesome as your own.
April 10th, 2009 at 6:41 pm
you should write a book or something.
April 10th, 2009 at 6:39 pm
No doubt one of the greatest things I’ve ever read.
I would like to suck your dick.
April 10th, 2009 at 6:31 pm
hilarious, but the verb tense shifts were distracting.
April 10th, 2009 at 5:02 pm
This is one of my favorite articles on all of Cracked. My hat goes off to you DOB.
April 10th, 2009 at 4:48 pm
That was the greatest thing I’ve ever read on this site. Great job DOB, keep ‘em coming.
April 10th, 2009 at 4:26 pm
just out of curiosity, how did wood splinters get inbetween your teeth from chewing on a metal table? im assuming this is from previous table related situation.
please explain
April 10th, 2009 at 4:11 pm
“If I can’t decipher what wood this is based on sight, what makes me think my wood-decoding mutant power lies in my hands?
It does not.”
Classic DOB. My day has been made at least five times better by this article Dan. A thousand thanks.
April 10th, 2009 at 4:09 pm
“Is pine cheap?” lol. Seriously, that line had me laughing like a maniac.
April 10th, 2009 at 4:05 pm
A full minute passed, while McCloud stared at the floor and Ham audibly coaxed an aneurysm into submission.
oh that was nice…coulda used another at the end
April 10th, 2009 at 3:59 pm
Best columnist article in months! You even outdid Seanbaby! Very funny, I was laughing SO hard. The running wood gag had me rolling.
April 10th, 2009 at 3:52 pm
That was great.
April 10th, 2009 at 3:43 pm
This just might be the greatest achievement in human history.
April 10th, 2009 at 3:09 pm
Irwin R. Schyster!!!
didn’t anyone else know who that was???
April 10th, 2009 at 2:51 pm
oh DOB you had me at “wood-decoding mutant power”
April 10th, 2009 at 2:39 pm
This article was very American Psycho-esque in it’s tones and narrative.
April 10th, 2009 at 2:02 pm
Has anyone ever considered that if you stop paying attention to or responding to dr chaos in any way that he’ll go away a lot quicker than if you keep nibbling his bait?
April 10th, 2009 at 1:29 pm
Thank you for putting a picture of Irwin R. Schyster.
April 10th, 2009 at 1:10 pm
This was freaking Genius, my God I can’t stop laughing. Thank you for laying off the twitter related stories, this was really refreshing.
April 10th, 2009 at 12:01 pm
Seriously doctorchaos. Lets see an article.
Exemplary work yet again D.O.B!
April 10th, 2009 at 11:57 am
Boy have I ever been there Dan,and by there I mean the exact same room( the table is not steel, it’s made of walnut)though my interview only lasted about two minutes because I said,
“You don’t want me, I’m only minor tax cheat and we all know the whiskey, horse tranquilizers, land mines and llamas do count really do count as entertainment write offs. I’ll give you the name of a real tax cheat. His name is Dan O’Brien and he works at Cracked.com. It will be easy for you, he’s extremely delusional and mildly mentally rearded.”
They said thanks and wrote me a check for $25,000 for turning in a major tax cheat and I left to spend the money on more llamas to blow up.
Here Doctorchaos, this is another site that might be able to get you some help. Please use it, you are not well at all dude .http://www.euro.who.int/mentalhealth
April 10th, 2009 at 11:45 am
Oh… Wow… That was freakin’ hilarious. It started off slow but then it picked up in a huge way. Nicely done once again DOB! You are the best writer on this site, in my opinion.
April 10th, 2009 at 11:42 am
hahah. that was brilliant. i laughed out loud several times.
“We laughed for about three and a half hours.”
April 10th, 2009 at 11:40 am
“sittin’ shoulder-deep in shit soup” is a good tongue twister.
April 10th, 2009 at 11:34 am
man this was CLASSIC..
DOB is constantly evolving as a writer, every single detail is hilarious
April 10th, 2009 at 11:15 am
Awesome
April 10th, 2009 at 10:45 am
@Panzer-Stier Ross
I can’t remember everything. Have you tried Epitaph-Strength? You forget you’re a sentient being.
….jerry tried to touch my pants. He kept screaming about chemistry.
April 10th, 2009 at 10:43 am
I think I love you Mr. O’ Brien
April 10th, 2009 at 10:40 am
Wait, the Highlander works for the IRS now?
April 10th, 2009 at 10:30 am
@Christine.
Thanks for that reference. I was one of the only people in a packed cinema who laughed out loud at that line.
April 10th, 2009 at 10:29 am
Me too! Love that movie
April 10th, 2009 at 10:16 am
About DoctorChaos……
Anyone seen Watchmen? Read it? Both? Good. Well…when Nite Owl and Silk Spectre are in the restaurant chatting about old times, they mention a guy who used to dress up as a villian just to get beaten up….because he LIKED it!
DoctorChaos is that guy.
Well not specificaly but he has the same problem as that guy. He writes these posts becuase he want people t react to him. To shout at him, complain about him and so on. He probably site ina darkened room just waiting for people to start complaining about him. (There’s a creepy image for you!)
Anyway he is a loser
All we need is Rorschach to drop him down an elevator shaft and all our problems will be solved…
YAY!!
April 10th, 2009 at 10:05 am
Good to know!
And thousands of sincere and serious tall people I met on ___Tallconnect C o M___ are the most amazing people I ever met! they care nothing but real love and chemistry! that’s what we are looking for in today’s world!
April 10th, 2009 at 9:52 am
Jamaica loves DOB
April 10th, 2009 at 9:49 am
You forgot:
:complain about tax
:refuse to pay tax until last second as a half-assed ‘protest’.
:grudgingly pay tax.
:bitch about grudgingly paying the tax.
April 10th, 2009 at 9:45 am
The Tax system here is pretty straightforward:
:Enter tax accountant’s office
:Throw the entirety of that financial year’s receipts at the Tax
Accountant. They should be taped to a large cinder block to
maximize efficiency.
:Stumble back to the car, taking swigs from your bottle of
Epitaph-Strength Rum
:Drive into a day care center at speeds the dash can’t register.
:Prison, and therefore exemption from tax
Repeat as needed. If you ever get out.
April 10th, 2009 at 9:27 am
excellent, once more, truely excellent.
April 10th, 2009 at 9:10 am
DoctorChaos has a definite frustrated teenage loser vibe about him/her/it/.
You’re like a small child who’s constantly running into walls then complaining about the headaches. If DOB’s articles hurt you so much just stop readng them.
April 10th, 2009 at 9:07 am
@ DoctorChoas:
I don’t understand, why is it that you continue to read DOB’s articles if you never find any of them funny. No one is forcing you to read to read them and you are freely available to go to read any of the multitude of internet comedy blogs available. Yet you still insist upon polluting the comments section with essay length bullshit. I think I speak for most people here when I say that I cringe every time I see you post in the comments section.
April 10th, 2009 at 9:07 am
@Byron: For your information, I HAVE eaten all the dicks. Every one in history.
Besides, that was a robot imposter who wrote that over-long, pompous post. He has been posing as me all along. I love Dan O’Brien’s work; in fact, I think he’s the funniest on the site. I follow his Twitter every day, I love him so much.
April 10th, 2009 at 8:59 am
Hahaha classic. I look forward to reading these every friday. Always funny.
April 10th, 2009 at 8:56 am
I made an ass of myself laughing at this at work. Thanks turd burgler.
April 10th, 2009 at 8:42 am
DOB/ODB all the way!!!!
April 10th, 2009 at 8:32 am
DoctorChaos complains:
“It’s far too long to be interesting to anyone and simply can’t be defined. It’s not exciting enough to be action, there’s not enough tension for it to be a thriller, it hasn’t got aliens or explosions, we don’t get to see Nicole Kidman’s tits and it sure as fuck isn’t a comedy….
What it is, is a seriously overlong attempt at justifying ones own existence….
So, it was too long, unfunny, uninteresting, and seven other “Un’s” of varying nature.”
Doc, that’s a perfect summary of your bitching! Unfortunately for you, it’s in no way relevant to this hilarious post. I’d like to pay homage to the author and cordially invite you to eat all the dicks.
April 10th, 2009 at 8:32 am
Pure brilliance. Like a defaulting nutsack, I couldn’t stop laughing.
April 10th, 2009 at 8:32 am
This is why DOB is my favorite cracked writer.
April 10th, 2009 at 8:28 am
I’m not gonna lie, I was a little disappointed with this one. I like some of Dan’s other stuff better, but hey, they can’t all be winners.
April 10th, 2009 at 8:23 am
I can’t wait for the sequel where agent ham finally is partnered up with agent and eggs
April 10th, 2009 at 8:16 am
Holy shit! That was EPIC!
April 10th, 2009 at 8:01 am
Brilliant! DOB, your funny makes me warm in my soul, which is strange since this contract I have say’s it no longer belongs to me. It’s written right here, to the left of the pentagram and above the Latin blood signature.
Also, my girlfriend was reading this over my shoulder and wanted me to note, since it is her family name, that it is MacLeod.
That’s right, I date a fucking highlander.
April 10th, 2009 at 7:48 am
Guys…it is time that I come clean. I am, in fact, one of DOB’s bastard children. I’ve been going to therapy lately, and I think you all deserve to hear the truth. I don’t hate DOB’s work. All of the “tl;dr”-inducing posts I have made were written out of hurt - hurt caused by not having a father figure growing up.
I kindly ask the other impostors in the comments section to stop. The fact that I enjoy sucking on strange men’s cocks is irrelevant to my past douchebagness.
April 10th, 2009 at 7:34 am
Dan, jump into bed with me RIGHT NOW. That’s an order.
April 10th, 2009 at 7:26 am
beautiful.
April 10th, 2009 at 6:56 am
That was one of the funniest articles I’ve read on Cracked.
DOB, you never fail to deliver! I kinda sorta love you. Just sayin’.
April 10th, 2009 at 6:55 am
DOCTORCHAOS IS AUSTRALIAN! I would bet my fucking life on it!
April 10th, 2009 at 6:47 am
DOB, I love you in a way that is purely sexual. That has nothing to do with the article, which I love in a platonic way, but I felt like it needed to be said.
April 10th, 2009 at 6:47 am
DOB, I laughed out loud throughout this article. Heck, I even lol’d. The parts about the table were great. I was not ready for the steel reveal!
April 10th, 2009 at 6:43 am
i want to live in a world where popsicle sticks are made out of steel.
April 10th, 2009 at 6:43 am
DOB, because prop 8 forbids it, the closest thing I can do is offer you my first born daughter. And possibly my second born if Bruce Campbell doesn’t want her.
April 10th, 2009 at 6:41 am
Funny stuff man. The table obsession and jawbreaker remarks were hilarious. I’m definitely doing my taxes on Wolfenstein for 2009.
Glad to see there’s a lot of hate for Doctor Chaos. What an over-talkative, pseudo-intellectual tool. Never have so many words been used to convey nothing of worth.
April 10th, 2009 at 6:39 am
Man, fuck a Doctorchaos!
April 10th, 2009 at 6:35 am
Disregard what I just said. I am ahuge faggot.
April 10th, 2009 at 6:29 am
Nice work, DOB, you’re a mine of comedy nuggets!
April 10th, 2009 at 6:26 am
I don’t get it.
April 10th, 2009 at 6:16 am
1. My name is everywhere apparently.
2. This article is a prime example of why I chose to “follow the shit” out of Dan O’Brien on Twitter. Just phenomenal.
April 10th, 2009 at 6:07 am
Dan, Dan, Dan.
Danny Boy, oh boy.
As you can probably tell already, I am nothing but an officious prick bent on ruining everyone’s day with my college English exam-length comments. Although I have the ability to not be on this website and view something I actually enjoy, I’d much rather masochistically peel apart every detail of your pathetic attempts at humor and analyze it in an attempt to be existential. Sucking the life out of everything around me like a living black hole is one of my hobbies. So in short, this article has made me harrumph a great many times in contempt, and I condemn your soul to the blackest pits of Hades, where I dwell.
April 10th, 2009 at 6:03 am
I agree wholeheartedly with doctorchaos. As an Australian, I feel-as I know my countrymen and women also feel- that “Australia is the cinematic equivalent of child slavery and gang rape combined. Why Nicole Kidman can still find gainful employment in Hollywood is utterly beyond the scope of my ability to fathom. Jackman however gets a reprieve because he is Wolverine. And if you fuck with Wolverine, you get the claws.
April 10th, 2009 at 5:55 am
Classic DOB, these first person hyperbolic posts never cease to amuse me, Brockway did a fine one earlier with the drug-tripped zoo, but this is much better
April 10th, 2009 at 5:55 am
Funny Stuff DOB. I especially loved the tender reference made to your children. Bastard, Girl Bastard, and Bastard 2. I imagine bastard 2 would be more personal than the first bastard, and his mother would be the sister of bastard one’s mother. You know what sequels are like….
April 10th, 2009 at 5:55 am
Dan, Dan Dan.
Danny Boy, oh boy.
Sometimes I think you lie in bed at night and think to yourself. “Just how the fuck can I make it easier for Doctorchaos to hate me, there must be a better way”
And apparently there is, you produce epics like this. If “Australia” the movie, was transformed into a web page it would look EXACTLY like this. Exactly. It’s far too long to be interesting to anyone and simply can’t be defined. It’s not exciting enough to be action, there’s not enough tension for it to be a thriller, it hasn’t got aliens or explosions, we don’t get to see Nicole Kidman’s tits and it sure as fuck isn’t a comedy. And hey there’s a black person in a major role, wow the parallels are amazing.
What it is, is a seriously overlong attempt at justifying ones own existence and validating the financial resources directed towards it’s creator, at a time when financial resources are quite hard to come by and would be better off spent on more useful projects, like a chimpanzee that can change the ink cartridges on your office equipment, oh wait you have one of those, it’s called SWAIM. (Gladstone you’re off the hook for this one because you brought back HBN, but we’re even now, game on).
So, it was too long, unfunny, uninteresting, and seven other “Un’s” of varying nature. Remmeber in Rocky V when Rocky realised he had brain damage and it was time to hang up the gloves. It’s that time man, it’s DOB V, the final submission. You can still lead a perfectly normal and useful existence. The office coffee machine will still need filling, somebody has to fill out the stationary orders, and every now and then somebody will let you use the corrective tape dispenser because they feel sorry for you and want to really make your day.
So, cheer up buddy, it’s over but it’s not the end. Your funny bone has been fractured, and the A-League is beyond you but there’s still things to do. Stiff upper lip and all that.
Also, you really should have used the better comment section option. The chaos ninja’s have posted several times before I even showed up.
April 10th, 2009 at 5:40 am
I’m going to try that exemption trick on my taxes next year. I have never read that you aren’t allowed to make your own boxes. I think DOB found a loophole!
April 10th, 2009 at 5:38 am
My god, DOB actually made me LAUGH?! The world’s coming to an end …
April 10th, 2009 at 5:28 am
As always funny, a great depiction of a absurd scene with even a more absurd protagonist. Also is DOB a member of the skull and bones society? How else would he get his hands on Pocahontas skeleton? And i think being able to decipher any type of wood by touching it might be the worst mutant power ever. i mean even that guy who can figure out languages quickly might come in handy on vacation.
April 10th, 2009 at 5:24 am
Best. Preview picture. Ever.
April 10th, 2009 at 5:23 am
Amazing
April 10th, 2009 at 5:18 am
this was your greatest article in a while, dob. fucking comedy gold.
April 10th, 2009 at 5:14 am
The title was truly inspired. Great article!
April 10th, 2009 at 5:11 am
Seriously DOB, it’s time to have a log in for comments. The cockring thing is getting out of hand… and how does everyone know?
April 10th, 2009 at 5:08 am
Daddy?
April 10th, 2009 at 5:03 am
“We laughed for about 3 and a half hours”
I love this line
April 10th, 2009 at 5:02 am
DOB, you’ve done it again!
April 10th, 2009 at 4:57 am
Also for the record, on the spectrum of wood prices, pine is usually pretty low. Above spruce, and below fir or birch.
April 10th, 2009 at 4:55 am
Fucking amazing. Choice bits:
“Before Special Agent Ham had a chance to answer, his partner, whose name I desperately hope is Special Agent And Eggs, entered the interrogation room,”
The DOB/ODB campaign Poster, and all table references.
““I just wanted to know if this table was birch or Bolivian rosewood.”
“ It is clearly a steel table.”
Dan, you are indeed a comedic God.
April 10th, 2009 at 4:51 am
‘”Do mixed race babies count? Like, as people?” A full minute passes, while McCloud stares at the floor and Ham audibly coaxes an aneurysm into submission.’
Best bit. This just got funnier towards the end. A fucking steel table. Delicious. Also love the game screenshot.
April 10th, 2009 at 4:48 am
Hurt fucking staplers thrown at head when!
DOB work! ecin
April 10th, 2009 at 4:38 am
Clearly this man is a visionary of taxes. Also, Connor McCloud is a pretty cool name, but that doesn’t beat the Jennifer Bonesteel I saw commenting on another blog. Even you must admit that her name is truly radical.
April 10th, 2009 at 4:35 am
I found the last line to be particularly funny, for no real reason.
Also, the DOB/ODB campaign poster is superb.
April 10th, 2009 at 4:29 am
OK.
Dan, seriously. This is truly awful and we both know it. For the life of me I can’t understand why you can’t take somekind of ceremonial position with Cracked that requires you to do no real work. This is just more of the same substandard drivel that will have all of the half-wit know-nothings raving about how you are a modern day Soupy Sales.
I did, however, find the part about the IRS agents funny. Also, the “wood/steel table” bit was funny, too. The deductions you tried to claim had me rolling in the floor. The jawbreakers and lawbreakers joke and the star monsters and space mermaids bit was outstanding. However, there was no marshmallow cockring reference, so my original analysis stands.
Because I love me some marshmallow flavored cockrings…
IN MY MOUTH;)
April 10th, 2009 at 4:16 am
Way better than most of the mysteries you see on tv.
April 10th, 2009 at 4:08 am
I’M THE GREAT AND POWERFUL DOCTORCHAOS… Bitch and Moan, DOB sucks… Cracked isn’t as good as licking hambones and whistling Everclear songs. Blah Blah Blah
April 10th, 2009 at 4:08 am
Wow dude that is like way cool. Too funy dude!
R
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