You finally broken us, you heartless bastards... Ah, forget it. I give up. If you guys don't care, then I guess... [sniff]... I guess I don't either. *sob*

Thanks a lot, world! You've really let me down this time!

Submitted by: Mark

I've always tried to take a flippant, nonchalant attitude towards everything I do, anticipating that each endeavor I undertake will be received as a failure, resulting in my inevitable degradation and humiliation. That way, when everything I do actually does end in inevitable degradation and humiliation, at least I can lie and tell my friends that I didn't really care in the first place.

Secretly, though, I want it all to work out, because I desperately need to be loved. And be famous. And drive a Ferrari and be smart, and be really, really rich and handsome, like Latino sensation Jimmy Smits, or game designer John Carmack (only better looking).

You people, however, aren't helping to further any of these dreams.

Here's the deal: I want to be rich and famous. And I have a feeling that none of you are particularly opposed to me being rich and famous. So I don't really see where the problem is, because the Reader Submission section was our best money-making scheme yet. All you had to do was create the content, while Ben and I relied on the tensile strength of our lazy, ever-expanding asses to keep us firmly entrenched on our funny-man thrones, growing fat and wealthy from the backbreaking toil of our fans. As you tilled our gardens of humor and wit, we'd update every week with your stories, while simultaneously expanding our legions of fanatics through the posting of broad swaths of fresh, self-generating content. All we needed was your cooperation. It was so simple.

Unfortunately, we forgot to factor in one crucial issue: you're all even lazier than us.

The embarrassing truth is that nobody has submitted anything lately. Nothing. At least, nothing I'd post on a site that my mother and Cindy Brady read on a regular basis. People keep promising stories, but nobody's actually delivering. So until someone does, I guess we won't be featuring weekly reader updates here. Which means we'll have to go back to generating content the hard way: writing it ourselves.

"Well, isn't that what you should be doing in the first place?" I hear you whine in that annoyingly nasal drone of yours. Listen up, bud: when you become the All-Enlightened King of the World, maybe we'll start taking your opinions seriously. But last time I checked, Bill Clinton* was in charge of all the important places, and the rest of you people, quite frankly, don't count**. So keep it to yourselves.

But, being an "entertainment" site, I guess we should probably start using this space to provide you with some form of laughter and/or mirth, two words which, thanks to your complete lack of support, now hold no meaning for me. So check this out:

I took this picture with my brand-new Olympus D-360L digital camera on the way to work last week. I figure either Jesus teleported himself into a cubicle somewhere on the fourth floor of Corporate America, or somebody in that building just had the best idea EVER. Either way, it's stuff like this that really creeps me out. Please note that:

1. I'm totally serious here. I really took this picture.
2. I almost killed the guy driving next to me as I swerved into his lane.

That's right; I risked bodily harm to bring you proof that Jesus is alive and well and living in the business district of Irvine, California. What have YOU ever done for ME?

Nothing, apparently, or I wouldn't be resorting to this.

Next week: either somebody submits something of interest, or I start rambling on about whatever topics I feel need discussing, which will most likely have nothing to do with candy and everything to do with pictures of my pimply, hairy butt. You've been warned... all of you.