Do you have a computer??? If so, this month’s RADAR 100 list is now online, too. 100 Ways We’re Trying to Go Green. I’m really happy with the way this list turned out, and which of my items were chosen. However, among my personal submissions that did not make the cut, this was probably my favorite: Conserving energy by switching to low-fives. Here were a few more I liked that didn’t make it into the 100:

  • No longer draining lake every time that black family swims in it
  • Now using both sides of toilet paper (they used a variation on this, which i’d submitted as an alternative: “After first use, turning condoms inside-out”)
  • Recycling Austin Powers impression from 1999
  • For sideshow act, eating only compact fluorescent bulbs
  • Imprisoning the cute girl from the coffee shop in a gigantic jar made of recyclable plastic
  • Trying to reverse global warming by acting extra cool
  • Planting some queer-ass trees and shit
  • Searching for clues for reversing climate change in Presidential Book of Secrets
  • TiVo’ing anything featuring Seth Green
  • From now on, only having anonymous gay sex with pro-environment senators (topical!)

And the winner of my “I am the only person who will find this joke amusing but I’m going to submit it, anyway” award for this list: Switching from bottled to boxed water


The Morning News has been kind enough to publish a multi-part series of autobiographical essays about video games, written by me. The series is called Consoles I Have Known, and first essay, titled, “A Very Weird and Blocky Future,” is available for eyeballs today.


Yesterday was a very long and runaround day, so I’ve decided to timestamp it. This will, of course, is interesting only to me and to others it will probably feel somewhere between confusing/distracting and self-absorbed/braggy, depending on how predisposed you already are to disliking me, or to reading people’s websites just to reinforce negative opinions of them/manufacture higher opinions of yourself. OK, go!

After Halloweening it up like crazy the night before, I woke myself up at 7:30 am. (something that most of you squares do each and every day, i realize, but it’s hell on bohemian types like myself who usually roll out of bed at 5:45pm, swab the genitals with a damp washcloth, pull on some pants, hit the stage and just dazzle for 7-12 minutes and then go back to sleep like some kind of housecat with a drinking problem) I used that unreasonably early wake-up call to finish writing an editorial for Fair Game, a public radio show I enjoy very much. Finished it too late to make a dentist’s appointment (11am–sorry, teeth!) but just in time (11:15) to make it to a meeting (12:30), then to a client’s office, where I received editorial feedback (13:12) and had to send back re-writes by 15:00. At 16:00 I received the final script, hopped in a cab, gave the script a once-over, and made it to the studio (16:25), made water in the VIP bathroom at WNYC (16:28), and recorded the piece on the radio, live. (16:34 – 16:40) You can here it by clicking on this word.*

Headed right back to Brooklyn (ETA 17:22), watched the “TiVo” episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm on my DVR. (sorry to get all lingo’y on you with the various technologies with which i am intimately familiar — 17:38-18:04) Packed three changes of clothes in a couple bags, two for me and one for Lisa, and headed back into Manhattan. (18:32) Arrived at Lisa’s office (19:03) so she could change clothes, then walked to a friend’s cocktail party. (19:31) We go all the way up to her apartment floor and started to feel guilty that we didn’t bring wine or anything, so we headed right back down in the elevator (19:33) and to a liquor store next door where we deliberated over wine and vodka, a process made more difficult because neither of us knows anything about wine and neither of us wanted to spend $50 on a bottle of nice vodka. Finally, chose a wine, headed back to the party, talked, ate cheese, nuts, chocolate. Then I grabbed my bag filled with two changes of clothes and split (20:43), at which point I raced to a club in the East Village to help provide “background” acting for a friend’s independent film. (21:08) Lisa joined me later (22:30) and I was supposed to stay there until 01:00 but all the scenes were filmed outside the club, on the sidewalk, and the temperature dropped about 20 degrees in an instant so, fearing the creeping presence of pneumonia and seeing there were more than enough colorful extras gathered outside the club already, I slipped out early (23:03) and grabbed a slice of pizza (23:10) before finally heading home again. (23:48) Tired and haywired as the day was, I still do prefer being busy to having lots of free time. But it would be nice to sit in a chair and read, or sit in a movie theater chair and stare. Or pick up a chubby-looking gamepad and shoot guys in the face for a little while.

*It is really worth watching this short video clip from the Senate Commerce Subcommittee hearing that inspired this editorial piece, especially if you’re a fan of uncomfortable squirming. C-SPAN really does make the best reality television programming.


Thanks to all who came out to pack [brag] the TV Book Club show last night. It’s more fun when people are in attendance, laughing and such.

We even had a celebrity in the audience, which I find makes even the scabbiest whore of a show a little bit fancier. Out of respect for privacy, I won’t reveal the identity of the celebrity, but I will say I’m still angry at him for turning a cheek after his Tri-Lambda brother raped that sorority girl on the moon. OMG GAWKER STALKER!!!!

I had written a new piece for the show that had some visual elements which were pretty vital to its success, but had to abandon it when we discovered the venue’s projector was broken. It was kind of disappointing, but I had a back-up piece and, to make up for the rest of the time, I just freestyle rapped. (People love my rappings.)

Anyway, here is the piece I couldn’t do last night. It’s called:

“Frequently Asked Questions About My Tattoos”

Question #1: My God, What Have You Done?
Here’s what I have done. I have made what some may consider a bold lifestyle choice, but what I consider the only choice for me. And further, to use an old lawyer’s trick I would like to answer your question with another question: Have you ever dared to dream? I mean, really dream? And, if so, at some point in your dream did a wise, talking penguin tell you that the secret to immortality involves having the words “Mr. Cool Ice” written as many times as your naked torso will accommodate and, whenever possible, having those words accompanied by a skeleton–preferably, a skeleton wearing sunglasses? If your answer is “no,” then I might ask you one more, pointed question: What have you done?

Question #2: What the fuck, dude? Are you shitting me?
No, I’m not “shitting you, dude.” This is the real deal. I would invite you to touch it and see for yourself exactly how real it is, but A) I’m not sure if you’re a girl or a dude, and I don’t want it to get weird; and B) I would require that you wear mittens or gloves when you touch Mr. Cool Ice because otherwise you just might get frostbite. Actually, that’s just some Mr. Cool Ice humor. In all seriousness, my skin temperature varies slightly, depending on the surrounding temperature. As such, my skin isn’t unusually cool to the touch, unless I’ve just stepped out of an unheated swimming pool or a cold lake, or have been shopping for steaks with my shirt off. Please note this answer also covers frequently asked question #18–“Do You Possess Any Unique Superhuman Powers, Apart From Being A Super Douche?”

Question #3: Did this take a long time, or did you just wake up one day and say, ‘What’s the most unambiguous way to communicate to the rest of the world that I am a total fucking idiot?’
I don’t know how many Mr. Cool Ice tattoos you have, but a project this ambitious doesn’t just happen overnight. First, there was the process of choosing a name. Believe it or not, Mr. Cool Ice was not my first choice, though I am 99.9% sure it was the right choice. Some other names I considered, but ultimately rejected for not being “cool ice” enough:

  • Mr. Cool
  • Mr. Ice
  • Dr. Cool Ice
  • Mr. Cold Temperature
  • Mr. Hot Fire
  • Mr. Sex
  • Mr. Hot Tub Party
  • Mr. Thirteen Unique Sexual Positions
  • Captain Partystarter of the S.S. Shitfaced
  • Mrs. Ben Affleck

Then came research. Weeks upon weeks spent selecting a font, referencing medical books for anatomical illustrations, and marking up the pages of a Sunglass Hut catalog, to make certain every detail would be perfectly realized.

Initially, my intention was to place the Mr. Cool Ice badge on either shoulder, and one covering my entire torso, twice–to encourage retention. Then I added a pair of forearm-sized ICE tattoos, for occasions where I would be required to wear short-sleeved shirts–an invitation to the opera, for example. Later, during an unseasonably cold April, I added two more Mr. Cool Ice skulls, one on either hand, to be visible during jacket weather.

Then, about six months later, I noticed something. Whenever I was standing at a public urinal shirtless or doing bare-chested push-ups on the beach, no one was shouting out my name. In those small but precious moment, my message wasn’t getting out. It had the potential to become a real problem. Fortunately, just three hours and $800 later, that problem became permanently solved.

I actually considered adding one more Mr. Cool Ice badge to my neck but then I decided it might give the wrong impression. After all, I am the CEO of a major corporation.

Question #4: What should people call you? Mr. Cool Ice? Or Mr. Ice? Or should we just call you Asshole McFuckwad?
Hey, there’s really no need to be so formal. People called my father Mr. Cool Ice. You can just call me “Cool.”

No, I’m just kidding. Please call me Mr. Cool Ice. Or, if you’d prefer, Todd Ice.

Question #5: Do you have any idea how hard I want to punch your face right now?

That’s precisely the kind of question that tests the very definition of my name. Fortunately for you, Cool Ice Heads will prevail.

Question #6: Do you have any regrets?
Ah, regrets. I do have a few. You see, back when I had the work done, I wore my hair much shorter, as was the style back then. But as I’ve gotten older I’ve grown out my hair and, as such, have deprived the world of something very special. In some ways I think those sunglasses, tattooed on the bottom half of my head, resting far lower than one would think appropriate or even physically possible, might hold the key to truly understanding the whole Mr. Cool Ice gestalt, and I regret that. I also regret having the words “FREE MANDELA” tattooed on my boner. Those two things, chiefly.

[Special thanks to Andrew Steele for his late-night inspiration, and for the “that’s what people call my dad” joke, which I stole like a creep.]


Here’s something: the new issue of RADAR magazine features a “RADAR 100” list I co-wrote with three other very funny gentlemen. It’s called 100 Reasons You’re Still Single. See if you can pick out the ones I wrote. Seriously, let me know if you can because I honestly don’t remember. Maybe if I can find it later, I’ll post my rejected contributions to this list. Oh, Internet! You are a grand forum for my narrow misses.


After a several-month hiatus, I have placed a small piece in new words for public viewing. The piece is titled “A Ghost Story” and is available right now.


Who saw Friday After Next just moments after it was released? Me. Who published my review of it? Film Threat. Who is more culpable in this instance? I’ll leave it to the jury.


Do you think the combination of straight-faced pictures with incongruous words is inherently funny? Well, that might be just enough to get you to check out “The U.S. of R.A.”, which is short for “The United States of Racist Aunt”. And that’s the title of the newest addition to the New Words section of this site. Go looky. Pass it along. See if I care.

Homepage photo: Lindsey Byrnes
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