I am Chuckles Laramie

You know what really whacks my piss off?

Andy Rooney. His rants are so damn stupid, I have no idea what the hell he is talking about. He's always bitching about something nobody gives a rat's ass about. Speaking of a rat's ass, I was strolling along the streets of Beijing the other day, when a nice little man gave me a hunk of meat on a stick, no, this is not a dick joke. He said with a very entertaining accent: "Rat, rat, this is rat meat!" After flashing him, I proceeded with walking back to my hotel, while eating said rat. On the way to the hotel, I saw a man getting arrested. When I asked the police men who were drowning him what he had done, they proclaimed: His timecard at the Crocs factory was several minutes off, and therefore, he is an obsolite object. 

    When I got back to my hotel, I washed my hair, and that of the police officer's head, which I had removed from his body. Proceeding with my afternoon, I consumed the contents of that head, and a nearby dog. This story is entirely untrue starting at the 2nd paragraph, and I'm just typing and reading aloud to hear myself talk. My life is so damn boring. Oh.

A letter from our Japanese friend Yama Moto:

I was driving to work the other day in my tiny as shit Toyota, when I learned that several of my co-workers had died and/or committed suicide from overworking. I proceeded with no emotions what-so-ever to eat my gigantic sushi-thing for breakfast. Upon getting to the factory, I discovered that production was lower than expected, and therefore, had to work my employees harder. I continued to work them as hard as I could, and production was up 100% by the end of the day. However, all of them were dead. I was also dead. 

Yours Truly,

Yama Moto