500-Lb. Year In Review

January: I was in a coma this month. I don't remember anything that happened.

February: The Giants won the Super Bowl. More importantly, the Patriots lost the Super Bowl. "Gonna be a good year", I said to myself. Slipped back into coma.

March: I turned thirty years old. Barely felt it. Avoided all restaurants for fear of hearing crappy birthday song from server staff.

April: I rooted for the downfall of Rudy Guiliani's campaign. At some point, it happened. I can't remember if it happened in April.

May: Found out the difference between tribalism and tribadism. At least that's what the certificate says.

June: Thought about writing a book. Declined to on grounds that failure might be an option. Took a lengthy nap interrupted by occasional piss breaks.

July: Nearly overcome with heatstroke. Made plans to move house to a nearby beer cave.

August: Nearly did something.

September: Trolled people on the internet and real life. Patted self on back.

October: Did not dress up as The Joker for Halloween. Felt good about that. My family thinks all my friends are meth addicts. I fail to attempt to convince them otherwise.

November: Obama wins Presidency. Country very happy. I smile a little bit. I knew it would be an alright year. I'm glad not to be in public relations or the auto industry.

December: This part of the blog.

You know who's a dumb dick? Eliot Spitzer.

During one of the 500-Lb. Sex Coach's many hiatuses, the whole Eliot Spitzer thing happened. What a shame I missed it, although there was no shortage of opinion on the matter. Oh, the poor wife. That hooker can't sing! What a douchebag Spitzer is! I'm inclined to go with folks on that last one. What a fucking crud.

This is a man who doesn't understand the concept of goods and services. Had he understood, he would have had steered clear of media scrutiny and kept his dumb-ass Governor job. Allow me to explain...

You cannot get rawdog anal from a high-priced call girl. It might be possible to get anal, but without a jimmyhat forget it. What a dumb prick. If every client got to use their high-priced call girls in any way they wanted, those call girls would cease to remain high-priced. Consider any call girl has multiple clients. Client A wants rawdog anal, Client B wants to piss on the girl, Client C wants to tie up the girl and put clothespins all over her body. High-priced call girls have a strict code of things they will and won't do. It's called "protecting your investment". This code is set by the agencies that hire out the girls. A used-up call girl isn't worth $5000 a pop; it's straight economics, like it or not.

So if dum-dum Spitzer really wanted raw anal action, all he had to do was spring $50 and a hot meal and any Albany chickenhead would've let him in. Sure, he would've needed penicillin afterward, but that would be protected by patient-client privelege. At the very worst, his wife would've hated him for being such an asshat but she wouldn't have torpedoed her husband's career.

What a screwhead.

Solving your man problems.

From Janey,

My man is a big 49ers fan. More importantly, he's a big football fan and hasn't been to any games this year, in fact, he's been so busy he hasn't even seen many games on tv.

I think the 49ers are doing shitty this year. There's only one more home game that I know of, vs. the Washington Redskins.

I found good tickets on craigslist for $125 each. Is this something that seems like a good winter holiday gift?

The alternatives right now are a day spa thing (he likes creature comforts & needs a massage & I'm a dunce at massage) or clothing (exchangeable) from a store in my neighborhood that he likes a lot.

Dear Janey,

If you can get your man some 49ers tickets, then get 'em. All of your options sound nice but the 49ers are gonna make him feel like a manHULKSMASH! You may not be good at massage but when he gets home from the game, you can give him a mediocre rub and he'll still be happy.

Clothing is an acceptable option if he's running out of things to wear, but get that man some 49ers tickets. It's good to have him connected to the things he likes. Work has taken him from the things he enjoys in life. He doesn't get enough time with you, he doesn't get enough alone time. Some $6 cups of beer will make him feel alive again as he watches Mike Singletary coach his beloved Niners all the way to 6-10 for the season.

You have to figure the guy needs some "me" time, so I suggest you let him be the best him he can be and root for Shaun Hill or whoever the fucking quarterback is for those idiot Niners.

From a Bears fan.

Dr. Fat Coach Talks About Your Pecker

From Darryl:

How can I put this...

Okay, this happens to me...maybe every few months or so, just happened today.

So, sometimes when i have to piss like EXTRA bad, I'll go through the zipper, naturally, but in a rush I'll only get like SOME of it out and it's still like crooked or whatever, and the piss comes out like REAL hard and it burns. Afterwards they'll be like a drop or 2 of blood.

I'm thinking I just like bruised, rather broke the tissue on the hose, for lack of better words. It usually heals like extra fast, like, the next time I piss, it doesn't burn but I can feel, and then the following urination I forget ALL about it.

is this a natural occurence? Should I be concerned? I'm "fine" otherwise.

Dear Darryl,

No blood should come from the cock unless you stabbed it. Go see a doctor because that is the limit of my medical expertise. What do you mean "in a rush" you "only get SOME of it out"? Go see a doctor, because the idea of blood coming out of the dick shaft just makes my eyes explode. Darryl, you need to see a fucking psychiatrist while you're at it. Damnnnnnnn...dick....blood...... *passes out*

Pick-me-up for a sad guy

Ya know, I get sad sometimes. Yesterday was a shitty day. I mean it was, as William "Paul Bearer" Moody would refer it as, "the drizzling shits". I won't get into the minutiae of yesterday, but I want to talk about something that picked up me up out of my doldrums.

The Malice at the Palace is the nickname for a November 2004 incident at a Detroit Pistons-Indiana Pacers game. Ron Artest charged into the stands after somebody threw beer on him, Stephen Jackson decided to take on half the arena, and Jermaine O'Neal mollywhopped some Puerto Rican guy in a Pistons jersey. It was perhaps the funniest and greatest American sports riot ever. I had a friend liken watching the video of said riot to "listening to Sara Smile by Hall & Oates ten times a year". It's just that good.

I wish that kind of thing would happen more often, in terms of instant poetic justice. Watching tough-talking sports fans get a pantful of turds when being charged at by impossibly atheltic men with crazy in their eyes. As righteous as Artest may have been, no one will dispute the man's total craziness.

He ended up getting the brunt of the punishment even though Stephen Jackson punched at least six more people than Artest did (I think he only hit two people). I should have bought a hundred copies of Artest's rap album just out of appreciation.

And last night, in the pit of frustration and glumness, my spirits were lifted by the sight of Jermaine O'Neal sliding on a slick patch on the court just as he delivered that ridiculous punch. It doubled the lulz quotient. I knew everything would be alright. Even as the world continues to spit out bad news at a rapid rate, I know that as long as we can find something to smile at we'll be just fine.

500-Lb. Book Critic: Artie Lange's "Too Fat To Fish"

Artie Lange, as many of you know, is a comedian who appears on Howard Stern's Sirius radio show. He also scares the piss out of talk show hosts and audiences with frank talk about his prior drug abuse and arrests. Now Artie has written his first book, Too Fat To Fish, which has climbed up Best Sellers' List all over the place.

Before I bought this book, I was afraid it would just be stuff Lange discussed on air. His life story is well-known to Stern fans: loving Jersey family, father incapacitated by work accident that would eventually kill him, struggles to get ahead in showbiz, two seasons as a MAD TV cast member before being fired for outrageous amounts of drug abuse, addiction, rehab, getting a break in the form a role in the Norm MacDonald film Dirty Work, and finally a job as a Stern show cast member.

Not much of Lange's life since 2002 (when he joined Stern) is discussed. There are several vignettes from this period: the stress of producing the film Beer League while juggling a nascent heroin addiction and Stern show duties, as well as his recent USO trip to Afghanistan with Stern producer Gary Dell'Abate and fellow comedians Jim Florentine, Dave Attell and Nick DiPaolo.

Most of Too Fat To Fish is concerned with the journey that led him to the chair in Stern's studio. Some great anecdotes involve Lange's father conspiring to meet singer Frankie Valli, Artie getting yelled at on the set of Jerry McGuire by Tom Cruise, and a bachelor party that coincided with Game 6 of the 1986 World Series.

This book is a quick, easy read. Comedian autobiographies tend to be that way. Rickles' Book by Don Rickles and Born Standing Up by Steve Martin were similarly quick and entertaining reads. While Lange and Martin have in common the narrative thread of making it in showbiz, Martin's is more of a study in craft development while Lange's is an airing out of all his dirty, crap-soaked laundry (literally, the chapter where he shoots a skit dressed as Babe the Pig in a Baywatch costume for MAD TV).

I suggest and recommend a purchase of this book. Apparently, the audio book is also a hoot. In the audio book, friends of Lange's read a chapter apiece. Howard Stern (who supplies the foreword) voices a chapter, as does Rev. Bob Levy (who is barely literate...the outtakes of his recording session are hilarious) and many others.

There will be a second book in the wake of the success of Too Fat To Fish. I suspect it will have more to do with his life on the Stern set and interpersonal relationships (particularly with his on-off-on-off girlfriend, Dana). Thumbs up to Anthony Bozza for cobbling Lange's voice into a readable book and I look forward to the next one.

What do I do with my Simpsons porn?

Dear 500-Lb. Life Coach,

I was recently convicted for possessing child pornography. I didn't even have any pictures of kids. All I had were some drawings of the Simpsons fucking each other. I had Maggie blowing Bart, and Lisa in a three-way with Homer and Marge. What should I do?

- Fucked in Australia

Dear Fucked,

It says here that the judge in your case, Justice Michael Adams, ruled that a fictional or imaginary person character constituted a person. In other words, if you have a drawing of Han Solo giving Jesus Christ a handjob, that would be considered a work of pornography in Australia.

Look, Fucked, I don't know what to tell you. You can't move to another country because you'd then have to register as a sex offender in that country. If you moved to the United States, you'd have to put a sign in your yard and a bumper sticker on your car saying you're a sex offender. And when folks are confronted with that fact, nuance tends to get lost on them. Even if the most egregious thing you ever downloaded or looked at online was a picture of Bart and Lisa 69'ing.

We can all agree that CP is awful and gross, and the people who consume and produce these materials should be shot out of a cannon into a lake filled with pirahnas and electric eels. Their remains should then be cooked and fed to starving dogs. BUT there is a big fuck difference between child pornography and drawings of The Simpsons blowing each other. The former is a crime, the latter is intermittently amusing but frequently suffers from poor quality.

I don't know if you have to register as a sex offender in Australia, Fucked, but I hope for your sake that the law is changed to reflect what constitutes a person. Justice Adams shit the bed with this one.

Because I feel for you, I'm going to indulge in a freedom that I have in the United States that you don't. I'm going to try to find some Simpsons porn, some Family Guy, American Dad, Futurama, Kim Possible, and who knows what other animated shows porn I can find. I didn't want to but I have to, just to savor the freedom that you Aussies don't have. My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty.

Fuck this shit. I want a book deal.

It's time to bring back the Life Coach. Fuck this shit.

For those of you who keep up with me, you know that I started writing for a website in September. I've become somewhat frustrated with this foolishness, and it's my own fault. Here's why.

I decided to start writing for a newspaper's website around the time the newspaper industry decided to sink into the muck of bankruptcy. The decline of print media has been known about for a while, but I'm the kind of guy who can't get to the orgy until all the girls have went home. That's the story of my life. Bad fucking timing.

Oh, and "fucking" while I'm at it. The people at the website aren't necessarily down with my rambling profanity and graphic depictions of weird sex and other gross stuff. So I've been trying to edit myself without necessarily editing out the content of my ideas.

You know something folks? I'm really good at writing perverse shit. I'm fucking fantastic at it. Telling me not to curse in my blog is like telling Rembrandt not to use brown paint. Fuck that in the ear with a wet turd. I think in the past four months, I've proven I can write interesting material without having to resort to pottymouth but POTTYMOUTH IS SO MUCH FUN!!!

Look at it like this: In the world of comedy, there are clean comedians and comedians that work blue. I happen to prefer comedians that work blue but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the craft and talent of a clean comedian. Jim Gaffigan is a funny guy and I could take my family to see him. Doug Stanhope is also a funny guy and would make my mom faint. I prefer Stanhope but I also like Gaffigan. Even if one works blue and one stays clean, they're both doing the same drugs backstage anyway. I'm not saying Jim Gaffigan is a druggie, but look at all the fucked-up mainstream celebrities out there. Jeff Tweedy and Britney Spears have both been to rehab; what does that tell you?

I notice that sometimes bloggers end up with book deals, and I go "that should be me". Some of them have novel concepts that can be turned into a book, like Stuff White People Like. Well, the 500-Lb. Life Coach is meant to be a blog but that's just a starting point. There could be a 500-Lb. Life Coach book, TV show, web series, expensive merchandise, etc. I need to get that paper, son.

So yeah, I'm back. The 500-Lb. Life Coach is coming back and full force. I don't need your questions. I'll make up something interesting whether or not you need my help or not. Suck a dick in hell, newspaper industry. This fat fuck is coming back with a vengeance.