Before I get started today, I'd like to make a few shout outs.

Big props to our network guy Radium, watching over all those servers and the forum software. You're crazy, son! Always typing weird ass codes into a keyboard and plugging shit in. Haha. It's like the Matrix or something.

Shout outs to everyone out there named Steve. I don't personally know any of y'all, but I like what I see so far. Keep up the good work.

Thanks to the gang at Fleshlight for shipping my product in a discreet brown box and replacing my first and second Fleshlight without question. I won't want to be down on you guys, but how hard is it to make a functioning flashlight with a vagina dust cover at one end? I checked and the first two units didn't even have any bulbs inside of them. How does that get past quality control? That's the weak sauce.

I want to say what up to my grandma, who is also my financial advisor. I bought a whole storage room full of those collectible plates, and if they really go up in value like the guy on tv says I'm going to buy some of that protective plastic coating you love for your furniture, walls, counters, and even your clothes. I don't know if it's possible to ice out your grill with that stuff, but if it is I'll pay for that too.

This one goes out to my boy Bruiser, lookin' down on us all from his prison cell in Heaven. Them bars are made of gold and your bunkmate is Jesus, man. For real. Up there no one can search your anal cavity for drugs, cause everyone's fucked up on God's love.

Gotta say what's up to Ralphie, morbidly obese and stuck in his bathtub. I hope Dr. Phil's camera crew shows up with that crane soon so you can get out tha house. I'm worried about you, tore up inside like you wouldn't believe. Remember that time you accidentally ate that fork? That's how it feels. The fork prongs of my concern are scratching at the digestive track of my soul. Damn, that was unexpectedly poetic!

'Sup to my man Ernie the beecatcher. I remember when you first told me what you did and I thought you were straight up misspeakin'. Did you mean you were a beekeeper or maybe a dogcatcher? "Nah, man," you said, "I'm a beecatcher. Where do you think those beekeepers get all them bees? Someone's got to catch them." Someone's got to all right, and that someone is you. One at a time, with a net and that bee whistle. Hardcore.

This one's for Lowtax. I don't know how to tell you this, but your collection of murder scene photographs is starting to get a little creepy. Maybe you should move it out of that haunted house and just forget about the stereo continually looping that music from the shower scene in Psycho. Then again I'm not a collector, so maybe a few throw pillows or different lighting might do the trick.

Congrats to Paul for being voted "Sexiest Man Alive Against All Odds" by Horribly Disfigured Burn Victim Magazine. You've had a tough life so it's really nice to see something go your way for once. Don't worry, I don't think the magazine will find out that you were never in a fire or accident of any kind.

Hey to my girl Samantha, who was born without the ability to bend at her elbows or knees. Stay strong. You can do anything. About your decision to become a contortionist though... we've got to talk. There's something I've been meaning to tell you for years. You're way too fat, girl.

Shout out to my favorite teacher, Coach Finley. You taught me the most important thing is to keep fighting, even after the bell rings at the end of the round. I didn't win a single boxing match that summer thanks to those disqualifications but I had a hell of a lot of fun.

Word up to my neighbor from across the street. I don't know your name, but you always smile and wave when I see you looking through my bedroom window in the middle of the night. Knowing I've got nice-ass neighbors like you watching over the neighborhood makes me feel safe.

Props to Little Eric, who can't leave his apartment because the doorknob is too high for him. It's pretty crazy that they put that doorknob on the roof, but why don't you just bust the door down? You're almost seven feet tall and built like an ox. I'm surprised you and Ralphie haven't gotten a place together, at least you'd both have someone around to talk to.

Of course I've got to toss a shout out to my best friend Luke, playin' bass for a local a cappella group whether they want him to or not. One day they'll stop running, Luke.

This one's for my fellow researchers in the Futurecorp Time Travel lab back in the year 3086. It was pretty whack of you to leave me stranded in the past like this after my breakthrough with the neutron inhibitor, presumably to claim my work as your own. I thought ya'll was bitch-ass scientists at first, but then I remembered the time I played that practical joke on you by leaving plastic dog feces in the decontamination room. In the bigass scheme of things, I guess we're even.

Thanks for letting me do that, now back to my update.

Why is it so hard to meet interesting people? It seems like no matter how hard I try, I can't come across anyone that's genuinely - crap, I'm sorry. If I keep going this will run way too long.

– Dennis "Corin Tucker's Stalker" Farrell (@DennisFarrell)

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