Intuitive improvisation is the secret of genius.

Today's the birthday of one of our greatest Americans: Christopher Walken. Thanks for all the yuks, Chris.

I think I've posted this video before but I don't care. Nothing says "Walken" like him dancing through a posh hotel to a Fatboy Slim song.

The penis is evil.

I'm extremely happy that I can jointly announce with my good friend Swinebread that hostilities in the Great Cheesy Video War have come to an end.

Families of both our great nations can now relax comfortable in the knowledge that no longer will they face the threat of Monkees in tanks, Pimp Shatners or dancing Adam Wests.

I would like to quickly observe that this peace would've left a better taste in my mouth had Swinebread not decided to serve Zardoz cocktails at the signing ceremony on the deck of the Faber Deathmobile. But that's water under the bridge.

In the off chance that any other blog take this peace as a sign of weakness and that my oblique whisper of "Walken" was nothing but an empty threat, I leave you with but a glimpse of the darkness which will descend upon them should anyone dare threaten my blog--