The Seattle Bear left a flaming grocery bag of poop on your doorstep.
The Seattle Bear watched you enter your PIN.
The Seattle Bear watched you whack it.
The Seattle Bear watched you watch her.
The Seattle Bear keyed your car.
The Seattle Bear got the last sandwich at Paseo.
The Seattle Bear banged your mom.
The Seattle Bear banged your girlfriend.
The Seattle Bear banged your mom and girlfriend.
The Seattle Bear is swine flu.
The Seattle Bear stole your Netflix DVDs then knocked over your mailbox.
The Seattle Bear told all those ladies that you have E.D.
The Seattle Bear spoiled American Idol for you.
The Seattle Bear wonders what color panties you’re wearing.
The Seattle Bear did your crossword puzzle.
The Seattle Bear isn’t ever giving those DVDs back.
The Seattle Bear put the milk back in the fridge even though it was empty.
The Seattle Bear plays the guitar shittily and still gets all the ladies.
The Seattle Bear talked through the whole movie.
The Seattle Bear is your father, Luke.
The Seattle Bear misled you into believing there were good reasons for going into Iraq.
The Seattle Bear “didn’t get your voicemail”.

The Seattle Bear is an asshole and old news.

What did you do for the economy today?

My brand of sexy is unique.

Hey! What’s scarier than Carrot Top?

THIS GUY:

Pizza Ragazzi

Maybe pizza will bring her back to us. (Just click the link.)

I now understand that which plagues the musicians who have trouble understanding why Rock Band would be fun.I came from nothing. When Mr. Meatyagi found me I was nothing more than a scrawny, little Koala McBear who liked to munch on some leaves*. Now look at me. I’m right up there with Kobayashi himself and also some white guy. Fistful after fistful into facefull after facefull, I have scraped and scrambled (eggs) to get to the caliber and quality of eating so that I can call myself a professional. To simplify and trivialize this into nothing more than a game - a game where children may stand up, shake around, and possibly loose weight is confusing and frightening for me. Nintendo, my life is not a game. And “Major League Eating” is an abomination.

To all of my fans who have written me asking for guidance on this matter, do not fret. Eating as a professional is still the most renowned and beautiful art of all our nation’s pasttimes. (And they say America never came up with anything besides Jazz.)

My children, I now know what must be done. I, being the natural best, must beat the game. Literally. I’ll beat the essbomb right out of it. Digital, intangible substance be damned! I understand that I will be known the world over and YES I know that even though I seek none of it, I will be adorned with riches that I will selfishly squander on golden cars and golden arches, turning my back on all the little McBears out there. But worry not, I will never forget where I came from. I promise, I will still like to get high**.

*and consequently get high.
**high in protein?

Close your tags.

Also, check out what an image search of “Close your tags” turns up. Did not expect that. Also, not a raven.

Via PhotoBasement

For my girl, Miko.

Hey! That guy! I know that guy.

Yeah, you do. That’s Nestor Carbonell and he’s on a bunch of stuff. He seems pret-ty cool. What’s that you say? This picture doesn’t ring a bell? Well, what if I showed you his secret identity…

That’s right, bees, it’s

BATMANUEL!!!!