Bonus “Uncut” Features

Want to watch a movie? Sure, let me just quickly open this DVD. Oh wait, that’s not gonna happen. Why? Because someone at the douche factory decided DVD packaging should be harder to crack than The Da Vinci Code. (Seriously, not one vulnerable crease?) Unfortunately, my son watching me battle this box isn't going to be entertainment enough.

One shred of loose plastic, that’s all I ask. And please, make sure that once I do finally penetrate this outer cloak of injustice, there’s an equally impossible strip of adhesive across the top that not even Edward Scissorhands could open.

Oh, wait, there’s already one? Perfect.

Go Puff Yourself

How bad for you must a clove be to demand a warning label -- that's as big as the headline? I'm an ad man, and I must say the 48 pt font only gets used on the rarest of occasions. Are these cigarettes bad for me? I'm not really getting the message here. Oh wait, the warning label is bigger than Joe Camel's junk -- that's not a great sign. Here's an idea: Just own up and put a picture of Phillip Morris doing the grim reaper from behind on this ad. It's more honest -- and still won't make me want your product. Somebody just kill cigarette marketing once and for all. Because this ad...it's just insulting.

Touch & Go

I love the Internet. I love that I can log on and two hours later, forget why I logged on. And I especially love that I can Google “Denver” and eventually find not one, but two, eHow descriptions about joining the Mile High Club. I’m not much of a club person, but it’s good to know “darkness is the preferred medium for membership.” Also that I should "Brag about having sex on an airplane to [my] friends" as Step 7 states, if I get lucky at 30,000 feet. Here’s the thing: I feel pretty confident anyone Googling this matter probably won’t be a card carrying member of this exclusive group anytime soon. In fact, anyone seeking out advice on this topic is probably more likely to be this guy -- who was much more interested in a Mile High rub. The saddest part? Poor “Nookie” is the happiest anyone’s been in coach since 9/11.

You're Fired

Hey, street fireworks guy. You’ve ignited my passion once again -- in addition to a string of seventeen sad sparklers in a row. You put all your limbs at risk -- and for what? Our amusement? Really, no need. Your willingness to take it to the streets after most have gone to sleep inspires. Most people bring back a token sombrero or an illegitimate child from their spring break trip to Mexico. You? You came back with a boatload of illegal explosives. And trust me, there’s nothing people like more than you setting things ablaze in their front yard to commemorate the holiday. But don't worry. You’ll always have a small audience of neighbors at your show -- if just because they don’t want you to accidentally blow up their house pet. So, kudos, freelance fireworks guy. Much like your program, I hope you do not flame out long before your time. See you next year. I’m sure.