February Update

There has been so much important stuff in the news that I know some of you busy fuckers have missed. Here is a quick update.

Franklin Cover Passed
Who, you ask? Fat Tom Willis from upstairs on the Jeffersons, that's who! Remember he was married to that arty bitch upstairs? "Ohhhh Taaahhhhhhmmmmm". By the way I know what you just thought.... "You mean that guy isn't dead already?" I figured he died 15 years ago. FYI: I couldn't find a good pic of Willis, but here is a great shot of Bentley and those wacky Black Entrepreneurs here.

Unknown White Male
On Friday night, I went to see this documentary, Unknown White Male. It is about a guy who gets amnesia and how his life/attitude/personality changes. I thought it was awesome, but the story was so surreal some people are calling "James Frey". I read about in the paper so I went in as a skeptic, but the director actually showed up to our theater after the show for a QnA. From the way he acted and reacted to people's comments I 100% believe the story is real.

Jerry's Can For Sale
Want to find that missing butthair of rock n' roll history? You have 3 days left to bid on Jerry Garcia's Throne at eBay. Some company called KidsFirst is auctioning off every piece of Garcia's home... trash compactors, cabinet handles, lamps, etc.. They have even included the Bear's BIDET where he used to wash off "Jerry's Kids" into the pool. I know, big shocker! Jerry didn't like to wipe.


By the way, you are welcome to leave your fucking comments on any of our posts! See the comments link below.

The Locker Room

Tuesday evening, 7:00 am. I pull into the YMCA in Hollywood. My objective: 25 to 30 minutes of cardiovascular exercise. Within, it's a mixed bag of gym attendees of all sexes, races, ages, and socio-economic backgrounds. I admit that I find the diversity of the Hollywood YMCA sort of refreshing. At 33, I'm not compelled to surround myself with people exactly like me, and I, in fact, take pride in chalking up "new experiences". Still, it's a weeknight and I'm pretty tired. All I really want to do is locate an unattended Stairmaster and read a back issue of The Economist. Fate would have it that I consumed quite a bit of iced tea that afternoon however, and upon entering the YMCA, a quick bathroom visit is warranted. I enter the door with a placard designating "Men's Locker Room". All I'm logically thinking is find a urinal, piss, workout, and get the fuck home. The door swings open, and there are dudes in various stages of undress everywhere. Two steps into the locker room and I'm looking through a see-through glass door, right into the steam room. My surprise that the Hollywood YMCA actually has a steam room is abruptly forgotten as I find myself looking straight up some guy's hairy dark asshole. Right down the pipe. The guy looks relaxed enough to be lounging on his own white sand beach. He's on his back, one arm gently nestled behind his head, reading a thick paperback novel, not within ten yards of a towel, legs spread wide enough for a proctologist to be embarrassed. How the guy decided on assuming that angle, providing the view it did, is absolutely mind boggling. I walk on . . . . five more steps and I look up. The good news: I see the urinals. The bad news: first I have to pass by the sink. At the sink, standing confidently with his bowed legs spread aggressively wide, knees locked, is an unabashedly naked, rotund, bald man, approximately 50 years of age. His pock-marked back is covered with flowing red hair. Sweat droplets cling, terrified, to his stocky "side of beef" thighs. Fat lards hang from his chunky upper-arms, gently lapping against his ruddy puckered breasts. He's fucking shaving. Why in the fuck is this smug, late middle-aged obese man shaving, with a disposable Bic, at a crowded public YMCA? He clearly hasn't worked out a day in his life. What can I do but advance towards my goal. Relief is 8 feet away. I'm pissing, and hear low groans, accompanied by a muffled grunt. It's coming from the handicapped stall. Jabba the Hut shaves away in contented bliss. I stupidly glance towards the stall. Two pairs of meaty bare feet, one behind the other, rock in unison on the greasy tile floor. A couple of quickly discarded moist towels hug the base of the toilet. There's heavy panting, man sounds, the stall reverberates, slightly at first, then with more vigor. My shocked mind rat fucks me and involuntarily conjures a crystal clear visual of the rough anonymous sex act going on two feet away. Holy shit, I;m in a godamn bathhouse! It's 1982 again, and AIDS is just a party joke. At that point, if a cyclops midget had moonwalked up to me, dropped his lieder hosen, spread his butt cheeks, and sprayed magenta diarrhea all over my Stan Smiths, I would not have been more uncomfortable.

Welcome to all Sickos!

Our blog is starting to get spidered by the search engines and has been getting good traffic the past couple of weeks. We are attracting some class acts. Below is a sample of recent searches on MSN/Google that have produced hits for Cubby's blog. Included is the ranking(where we rank on the results page in the Search Engine)

SEARCH TERMS
cubby's hole #1
funny blog.... MSN#28 - ranking fluctuates
summer's eve douche... Google#12- I am sure they are ecstatic.
up a funny hole.... MSN#1
butthole blog…. Google Poland #11
iranian body odor.... MSN#3
funny words for butt hole.... MSN#1
inside butthole shithole.... Google.ch(Switzerland)#3
fat women shitty buttholes... MSN#2

And last, but not least… I FUCK FAT BUT HOLE.... MSN#12

Great stuff.

Bush details Qaeda plot to hit LA

President Bush offered new information Thursday about what he said was a foiled plot by al-Qaida in 2002 to fly a hijacked airplane into the tallest building west of the Mississippi, the 73-story U.S. Bank Tower in Los Angeles. As described in the staff report by the independent commission that investigated the attacks, Khalid Sheikh Mohammed(seen left), is said to be the mastermind behind the planned terror.

While some democrats are pleading the story is a Bush fabrication in order to show security intelligence competency, others are not so sure. There have been multiple reports of this man being spotted in and around Los Angeles. A man by the name of Tyrone Williams claims to have seen him on the corner of Vermont and Pico Blvd... "Yea, I saw that hairy mother buying a dimebag from Curly. He was crackin jokes about his ass zits."

Another woman seems to remember seeing him at LAX profusely sweating, "I just couldn't stop watching him. I had never seen male tits that big! His sweaty sand dollar nipples were shining through his shirt like raw chicken breasts in a ziploc bag. I just thought he was nervous about flying."

Finally, a Downtown Commuter, Frank Rizzo spotted this man in a building within two blocks of the Bank Tower. His only comments...

"I'm pretty sure that guy works in our office."

Weatherman=Metrosexual

Dallas... Austin... Denver... Western Cities, u say? Think again. They are the Metro-ologists who deliver the 5-day forecast on your local NBC affiliate. By far the most vain career of all. They make game show hosts look like Peace Corp Volunteers. They're hair is perfectly feathered(a la Ted McGinley). The skin is a faux pink-bronze that looks painted on. Fake baking is out, misting is so in! The tweased eyebrows and veneers are dazzling!

So my question before writing this blog was, how come all weathermen are metrosexuals? To answer this question you must look at what a metrosexual is. They are all about appearance and getting laid. They could care less about substance, hard work, or merit. When looking for careers they spotted the weatherman position. With as little as 5 minutes of work a day they could gain civic recognition, unearned glory, and makeup-driven facetime to thousands of single women. After re-reading this paragraph, I realize these guys are much smarter than me.

Weathermen aren't just part of the metro-revolution, they founded it. People like Dallas Raines(see pictured) were trailblazers for the Seacrests, Pitts, and Beckhams of the world. He was mudmasking and getting "peddies" for 25 years. Way before it was chic!


Side News:

*SCORES got busted for tax evasion and money laundering. I love it! Strip clubs have been fucking me over for years. It's about time they get raked over the coals. I do feel bad for Lonnie though.

**This entry got me thinking: I can't wait for the E! True Hollywood Story of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Do you think any of the guys will have a breakdown and admit that he was actually NOT gay? He was just a metrosexual actor that needed a job?

***Grandpa Munster passed away. Keep it real up there homey!

****Tommorrow there will be an update on that offtrack betting story in the Himalayas. It's a smaller story, but I know you have been following it.