Goodbye Jerry…

Posted: February 10, 2011 by zedmore in Agents on Sports, Uncategorized
Tags: , ,

I was caught off guard.  A swift uppercut hit me square in the solar plexus and I immediately doubled over.  I couldn’t breathe.  I was disoriented.  My eyes welled up with tears.  The world around me was just awkward shapes and colors.  I did the only thing I knew how to do.  I checked to see if the rumor was true…

You see, after hopping on Facebook to post a rare non-sarcastic comment, I briefly scanned down my friends entries, and came upon this:

“Thank you, Jerry. You did more with less than any coach in history.”

After 23 years, Jerry Sloan has decided to step down as head coach of my beloved Utah Jazz.  Right now, I’m having trouble processing this information.  My brain is stuck in that annoying little hourglass that pops up on your computer screen when you’re trying to look at porn look at spreadsheets.  I need to talk.  I need to vent.  And then I realized, “Wait a second, I run a blog that I’ve largely been ignoring for two months!”

A small aside: for those of you who have been missing the Agents, I assure you, we are still here, but just very lazy.  Stay tuned for future blogs, with 15% more nudity and 18% less funny.  So, with that being said, release the Kraken…

Coach Sloan was the last stalwart of the team from my childhood.  A team which featured the greatest NBA player to ever wrestle Hollywood Hulk Hogan.  A team which featured the best point guard of all time, but doesn’t get the respect he deserves because he wore short shorts and well… he’s white.  And a team which featured a man who never wanted individual accolades, who only cared about winning, and valued hard work and effort over skills and talents.

I try to give professional athletes the benefit of the doubt.  They make millions of dollars to play children’s games, and have been coddled since Jr. High.  It would be extremely difficult to not end up being kind of a D-Bag.  I’d hear that Plaxico shot himself in the leg, or that Allen Iverson isn’t a big fan of practice, but that’s ok.  Because I knew that MY coach, Coach Sloan, was teaching his boys how to be men.  How to play basketball the right way…

Now?  Who knows…  All good things must come to end, but honestly I wasn’t ready.  I guess the best way to describe it, is when you break up with someone.  Whether you are the dumper, or the dumpee, it doesn’t matter.  That door closes behind them as they walk out of your life, you look around, and say, “Well… now what do I do?”  I don’t even know whether the Jazz can be my team anymore.  The Utah Jazz are Jerry Sloan.  And now?  They’re an average basketball team that plays about 1200 miles away from me.

I feel empty, I feel sad, and I think I feel hungry.  So while I drown my sorrows in 6 chili cheese dogs with a pretzel bun, I’ll leave you with my favorite Jerry Sloan story:

Chris Webber during Game 2 of the 1999 Playoff match-up between the Utah Jazz and the Sacramento Kings (on the Petros and Money Radio Show)

“Man, one time I set a pick on (John) Stockton and I knocked Stockton to the ground and I gave him a shoulder. And I’m really cool with Stockton but I was trying to show the rest of the team like I’m going to get the technical, you guys. I’ll be the bad guy, come on. Well, Stockton kind of laughed. I laughed. I looked at the bench and Sloan looked at me.

I said, ‘You want some?’ He was like, ‘Damn right I want some.’

He started walking toward me. So, you know, it’s a good thing there was a ref there because, hey, he’s one of the toughest guys in the league. I don’t want to fight that guy. So, I’ll tell you, when your team is led by one of the toughest guys in the league, your team is going to be tough.”

Thank you, Jerry. You did more with less than any coach in history…

2011 is upon us, and while my personal belief system has me convinced that the world is ending January 15th, I’ve still decided to come up with a list of resolutions for the New Year.  Now, some of you may believe that New Year Resolutions are no longer hip, and should only be reserved for your overweight aunt, but I say Nay! When I hang up a brand new “Women of Babylon 5” calendar, I also use this time for self-improvement.  After all, life’s a journey, and do I want to be the same old schmuck stuck in my negative and self-destructive ways?  Of course not.  Out with the old and in with the new.  Onward and upward!  In order to stay truly committed to these resolutions, I thought it would best to share them with out loyal readers.  So without further ado, I present Zedmore’s 2011 New Year Resolutions…

Unapologetically watch much more reality TV:  I dabble in a fair amount of reality tv, but it’s time to give up my amateur status and go pro.  Anyone can watch The Real World, Big Brother, Kendra, The Challenge, Dr Drew’s Celebrity Rehab, Dr. Drew’s Sex Rehab, Dr. Drew’s Sober House, Jersey Shore, Basketball Wives, Celebrity Apprentice, Celebrity Fit Club, and Undercover Boss.  That’s kids stuff.  It’s time to grow up and join the big leagues.  For Pete’s sake, I’ve completely ignored all of the Real Housewives and all of their zany hijinx in their various cities.  I’ve refused to watch competitions where C & D-list celebrities learn new skills and display said skills to smarmy foreign judges.  And perhaps my gravest sin of all, I can only name 3 of the 614 reality shows on Bravo. (What’s the one with the hair stylist who sells houses and goes camping with Sarah Palin?)  And I actually thought of myself as a connoisseur of television.  I’m ashamed of myself, and I know I can do better.  Look out world, because I’ll be in my basement watching life pass me by!

This is the second blog in a row that I've mentioned the Real World. Get used to it...

Drink more energy drinks:  For way too long, I’ve let the liberal media and my loser friends who hate partying convince me that drinking energy drinks are bad for you.  Here’s a little tidbit that the FDA doesn’t tell you: They are F-ing delicious!  Not only that, but they give me the get-up-and-go that I need to power through the day (and night, and maybe the following morning so I can watch Saved by the Bell reruns).  I’m a busy guy.  I’ve got a full time job, a newfound mess of reality TV to watch, and a fledgling blog to run.  You think I have time for sleep?  Heck no!  This engine has got to keep chugging.  So instead of drinking a cup of coffee and eating a bag of Wildberry Skittles (or as I call it, Cool Guy Breakfast), why not combine all of those nutrients into one can of in-your-face attitude?  One other little known fact: did you know that you could mix alcohol with Red Bull?  What would you say to a cocktail that gave you the rush to go out there and conquer the day, while taking away all the feelings that make you cry yourself to sleep?  You may call it a Redbull-Vodka, but I call it “Six Weeks of Therapy on the Rocks”.

Hey Skittles, Don't even try and steal "Cool Guy Breakfast." Shit is copyrighted son!

Make more money:  I think this one is pretty self-explanatory.  When you have lots of money, you can buy cool things like robots and lasers. Robots and lasers make me happy.  Ergo, money will make me happy.   So what’s my fool proof plan to become rich?  I have a simple, three-pronged attack that is sure to work.  Feel free to steal my plan, but once you’re a millionaire, just name a rocket ship or something after me.  First, buy lots of lottery tickets, and here’s the key… win.  Most people lose the lottery.  If everyone else is losing, then that leaves all the winning for me!  Second, constantly make bets with ridiculous long-shot odds.  Sure, it may get a little frustrating to keep throwing out $100 on bets that never pay off.  But when Facebook re-animates the dead body of Ernest Hemmingway to wrestle a bear on the Tonight Show w/ Dane Cook, you’ll thank me… from your boat… on the moon…

The Tonight Show with Dane Cook will be In-Your-Face Hilarious!!!

So there you have it, my three resolutions for 2011.  I’d finish this blog with an impassioned plea to come up with your own resolutions for the betterment of mankind, but frankly my hands are shaking too much from the three Rockstar-tini’s I just drank.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to see what whether Khloe and Kourtney have convinced Kim that she should break up with Kris Humphries and get back together with Ray J.

Three Kings saw a majestic star in the east and followed it to a little place named Bethlehem to greet the newborn Baby Jesus with gifts.  And just like today, one third of those gifts sucked.  Hell, could you imagine how rough it was for little baby Jesus to act excited about myrrh?  “WOW… Myrrh… how thoughtful… this will look great on my credenza…”  In the interest of helping Christmas be bigger and better every year, I want to call out some modern equivalents of myrrh.  These are just a few items that you are an asshole for buying people…

Nothing tastes better than mediocre beer you made yourself

The “Make Your Own _______” Kit: Sure, it seems like a good idea to get your friend a beer making kit.  “Reggie loves beer.  He’ll have a great time!”  But let’s take a second to really think this through.  At best, you got your friend a decent six pack… that they had to make themselves… and aren’t able to drink until March. While at worst, you gave them a giant mess to clean up and a potential lifetime of blindness.  Let’s just cut the crap folks.  Frankly, if your friend was into brewing, a Mr. Beer kit would be a fucking insult.  And if they aren’t into brewing, then just get them a six-pack, you arts-and-crafts douchebag!

Low Denomination Gift Card: Wandering the mall, trying to cross the last few people off your list, a $5-$10 gift card seems like a great way to say “Hey, at least I thought of you.”  This, however,  is false.  If you can’t come up with a real gift, just don’t get me anything.  I can promise you that it’s not going to hurt my feelings.  All these $10 gift cards do is make me look like a cheap loser when I’m scouring my local Abercrombie clearance bin for the only $8 scarf in stock.  And if I do decide to splurge and get something worth having, then I’m pretty sure you covering the sales tax doesn’t count as an actual gift.  It’s like you’re trying to find the cheapest way to make me feel bad for not getting you anything you passive aggressive little twat…

Lottery Ticket: This seems to be a fairly recent development in the world of gift giving.  I just hope it doesn’t stick.  The thing about the lottery ticket is that 99.9% of the time, it is absolutely worthless.  Nothing shows you care more than the gift of throwing away more garbage.  But if this gift actually turns out to be a winner, we run into even bigger problems.  If that Super Lucky Scratcher is worth anything more than $100, I can already hear the awkward conversation about splitting the winnings.  You did buy it after all, and it would only be fair…  God forbid that ticket really hits the jackpot.  I’m sure Judge Judy would love to hear that case.  So it’s garbage or a lawsuit.  Gee, thanks…  Let’s be honest here.  You’re a flake and you know this gift is bullshit.

Unless you're talking about the movie starring Bow Wow-Hilarious!

Clothes: Parents can be the biggest assholes of all.  As a young man I thought that parents were just out of touch but now as a parent myself, I realize that some parents just don’t give a shit.  First off, you need to realize that you are Santa Clause.  You are the human embodiment of one of the most magical things in a child’s life… and you buy them clothes?  Fuck you for trying to pawn that off as gifts from Santa.  I hope your kids put you in a nursing home and the one day that they are supposed come visit, they just mail you a pair of socks.

Rip-Off DVD’s: Even worse than the clothes buying parents are the ones who can’t be bothered to care about their children’s lives enough to know that Transformers and Transmorphers aren’t the same thing.  Optimus Prime is awesome.  Robotus Major is a tool.  Take the time out of your busy life and find out what your kids are actually into.  If you can’t be bothered to do that, well that makes you an asshole.

Seriously... Go fuck yourself...

Charitable Donations in Their Name: There are many terrible things going on in the world today, and it’s wonderful that we have caring people out there to help those in need.  But don’t you dare to try to pawn off a donation as an actual gift.  If I got you a Nintendo DS and you donated to Habitat for Humanity in my name… well the only thing to say to that is fuck you.  It’s like you figured out the way to make yourself feel good two times for the price of one.  YOU got someone a gift and YOU donated to a charity.  So congrats.  You feel great, and I got screwed.  Merry Christmas shitbag.

Naming a Star After Someone: Sometimes, someone needs to give a gift so shitty, that they can’t be contained by the confines of planet Earth.  They need to expand their shitty gift giving to the magic of outer space!  Please, if you don’t listen to anything else I say, listen to this.  Don’t name a star after someone.   It’s the most thoughtless and pointless gift in the world.  Do you really think that this star is going to be named after someone?  Let’s say that they discover life near the star you “named”.  Do you really think we’re going to join some late breaking news, hearing that life has been discovered on Planet X47J, which orbits around “Tiffany’s Pretty Pony Star”?  Fuck no… You’re an idiot for thinking that it will, and you’re a thoughtless dick for making your daughter think that paying some company in Akron will legitimately immortalize her in the heavens.

$60 buys a star for you, and a lapdance and HJ for Gary Bockwinkel, CEO of "StarsRUs"

So there you have it, a list of the most god-awful gifts that you could possibly give for Christmas.  So step it up, put some thought into it, and give a gift worth giving.  After all, you don’t want to end up like the 3rd Wiseman do you?  So let’s have it, what asshole gifts have ruined Christmas for you?

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – Well, I took the one that pretty much everyone else did.  Go to school? Check. Go to college? Check. Get a job? Check.  I followed the recipe for success, and ended up with the equivalent of a dry bundt cake.  I see all of these glamorous lives on tv, and I get jealous.  Why can’t I be Dr. McSteamy, save a kid from face cancer, and receive oral sex from the hot bitchy chick?  Why can’t I go on the Real World, fight with my roommates about the dishes, and receive oral sex from the hot bitchy chick? WHERE’S MY HOT BITCHY CHICK?!?!?!

"You are going to get so much hot bitchy oral sex tonight..."

I could be responsible and mature, and accept the consequences for my actions and decisions.  But I think we all know, that just ain’t me.  I wrote 1000 words critiquing cartoon henchmen.  There’s no way I’m going to start being a grown up now.  And so, I’m going to direct my rage toward the most logical of choices, my high school guidance counselor…

It’s simple really.  High school guidance counselors are nothing but flim-flam hypnotists and brainwashers, convincing our fragile impressionable youth that the only way to be a success is to get good grades and go to college.  Then you go get a boring job at some boring company, making boring spreadsheets, and bringing homemade queso dip to the company potluck.  Screw the queso and screw the three-legged race!  There are so many great jobs out there that don’t require a fancy diploma.  I’ve learned this lesson too late, but I want the youngsters out there to learn from my mistakes.  Below, I’ve suggested some profitable and fulfilling careers that your socialist counselors are too afraid to talk about…

1) Drug Kingpin: If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from watching The Wire (now available on DVD and BluRay), is that being a drug kingpin is the coolest job ever.  You get to be super rich, hang out at strip clubs all the time, wear really comfortable baggy clothes, and get to use those cool pre-paid cell phones.  Plus, you get to meet all sorts of interesting people.  Who’s that crazy bald Russian guy with the giant scar and missing half a finger?  I have no idea, but I bet he’s got some stories to tell!  Not only that, but you’ll probably be able to give yourself some cool street codename, like “Marty McFly” or “Doc Hollywood.” (Note: you are not required to choose from Michael J. Fox movie roles) And guess what?  All of those millions you’re bringing in by slinging rock? Tax free baby!

You could be wearing that jaunty cap!

2) Pirate: Sure, pirates have seen their heyday in the 1600’s but they are back and zanier than ever!  Zooming around in speedboats, shooting AK47’s, it’s like you’re starring in a Master P music video!  Who’s making them say Uhhh! this time?  Why it’s Captain You-Beard, Terror of the High Seas!  Not only that, but all of your loot is coming at the expense of giant, faceless corporations.  Which means all of the profit with none of the guilt.   Hell, they probably test drugs on animals and give cigarettes to little kids.  You’re practically doing the Lord’s work!  And I’m pretty sure that this is an industry that’s ripe for the taking.  We’ve all seen those videos of skinny Somali guys, cruising around in dingies, getting blown up Navy Seals.  Think of what a sharp go-getter like yourself can accomplish with no competition on the high seas!

3) Cult Leader: Have you been looking for a career where you can combine your ability to creep out girls with your poor guitar skills?  Well look no further than starting your own cult.  This has got to be the easiest job of all three to get started.  First, come up with a ridiculous belief system.  Not feeling creative?  Just rip off an old Star Trek or Knight Rider episode.  Next, find some insecure young females, and brainwash them through passive aggressive pillow talk and poor feeding habits.  “Of course I love you…  It’s not like anyone else would… Now eat your gummy bears…” And lastly, get yourself a bunker and commence Oral-sex-a-thon 2011!  But besides all the hot chicks, you’ve also got complete freedom.  Want to build a rocket ship or declare your own country? Sure, why not?  Want to invent a lean, mean portable grilling machine that knocks out the fat but not the taste?  Not what I would do, but hey, it’s your cult.  And if the man starts trying to get all Waco on you, don’t worry. I’m sure the Enterprise will be there any second to pick you up and take you off to Planet Hasselhoffistan.

On Planet Hasselhoffistan, everyone gets their own Kitt and Gary Coleman

Now these are just a few options that the young folk of today have in front of them.  There are plenty of other career choices out there: sex worker, movie bootlegger, and really kinky sex worker, just to name a few.  The point being, there is a great big world out there, and you can’t let the man tell you what to be.  It’s like Michael J. Fox said in 1985’s Teen Wolf, “I’m not a fag. I’m… a werewolf.” Go get ‘em champ.

Not enough outrage on Earth.

Posted: December 3, 2010 by mikeorastromike in Agents on Sports, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , ,

I slept like a baby last night.  Why? Life has been pretty good to me lately.  One thing that you should probably know about me is that I’m a pretty big soccer fan.  I’ve just hopped onto the basketball bandwagon, but I’ve been a soccer fan for years.  And with the Sounders in Seattle, and the World Cup heading to the US, things have been great.  Until this morning, that is…

I woke up this morning, and fired up ESPN on the ‘ole smart phone to make sure that FIFA did the right thing and awarded the 2022 World Cup to America. Then it would just be a quick hop onto Amazon to order my official USA 2022 jersey and commemorative beach towel set…


Hold on…


It’s the size of the other country’s letters… seriously

Holy fucking shit, you have to be kidding me!! Fucking Qatar wins the 2022 World Cup bid?  This has to be some kind of mistake.  I mean, the World Cup was going to be in the US, probably in Seattle, my back yard.  Now it’s going to be in… I don’t even know the name of a city in Qatar!!  Not a fucking one! Qatarsville? Qatarsburg? Does anyone know?  Are there any Qataris (Is that even right? Qatari… Qatarite?) buying a Qatar 2022 t-shirt off of right now?  I understand Russia and Brazil, but fucking Qatar over the US-of Goddamn-A??  This is just crazy.  Will Qatar even be a country in 2022?  If they get blown up or go bankrupt, can we get a re-vote? America would have outspent Qatar’s entire World Cup before the World Cup even fucking started.  And I’m not saying that make us better than Qatar, well actually, yes I am.  Our World Cup would have kicked ass!  We would have had cool fucking laser shows, and giant TV screens, fireworks, and Bruce Springsteen.  What will Qatar have? What does Qatar have?  They can’t even spell their name right! I learned in the 2nd grade that you always stick a U after a Q.  I tried to text this injustice to a friend and my phone thought I was trying to say Guitar is hosting the World Cup.  I didn’t even know Qatar was real.  Isn’t it one of the made up countries that Jack Bauer had to stop from blowing us up?  I’m pretty sure Qatar in Klingon roughly translates to “Bullshit country that should never, ever, never host a World Cup” Do you remember the Key-tar, one of the gayest musical instruments of all time?  Well that thing is the fucking Fonz compared to Qatar.  You know what Qatar’s chief export is? NO ONE GIVING A FUCK ABOUT QATAR!

Pictured: Things better than Qatar.

So have fun FIFA. Have fun in the 120 degree sun.  Have fun trying to find your World Cup on a map.  Have fun trying to convince the world to “Visit beautiful and exciting Qatar!” Me? From here until 2022, I’m voting Republican, just on the off chance that we’ll start a war and invade that goddamn country.

Fuck Qatar.

AstroMike’s Hero Service

Posted: December 3, 2010 by mikeorastromike in Agents on life.
Tags: ,

Women, you can’t live with them, and you can’t get within 100 yards of a couple of them. It’s an unfair world out there when it comes to the fairer sex. A hunky guy can fill her car with beef hearts and scratch a Byron poem into the hood of her car and it’s cute. While at the same time you get deemed a creep for offering her your seat on a full bus. What can you do though? It’s doubtful that you have the balls to approach random girls in public until you find the one who thinks Spiderman comics and neck hair are awesome. Then later, when you finally are sitting across from the “one” at a coffee shop or bar, she probably won’t be able to make eye contact because you are balls deep in your latest Star Wars novel. So, what can you do? You can hole up in your parents basement for the next 20 years and comment on pictures of cats online, or you can man the fuck up, throw down some cash, and hire AstroMike’s Hero Service.

This shit only works if you could have already banged her.

Now I know this is a lot to take in. The first question you probably have is “What is AstroMike’s Hero Service and why the hell do I care?” well, stop being such a whiny impatient bitch and I’ll tell you. (Jesus, you just heard about the service like 8 seconds ago and you are already complaining about it. No wonder chicks won’t have anything to do with you.) AstroMike’s Hero Service is a company I’ve created that will take you, step by step, from a guy she was uncomfortable making eye contact with to a guy with at least a 50 /50 shot of fingering her in the next couple days. The best part is that it requires the absolute least amount of commitment on your part. All you do is call us up, select the level of service you require, and set up a time and place to become a hero. We do all the hard work for you. It really is as simple as that!! This is one of those programs that I am sure seems too good to be true, but I can guarantee that it works. I’m so confident in our ability to get you with the girl of your dreams that I am going to spell out the whole program right here and now. You ready? I know I sure as fuck am.

Step one is as simple as finding the girl that you are in love with (or at least one that you might want to see naked). It usually helps to know a little bit about her routine but I don’t want you guys out there looking like a bunch of stalkers. The best option would be a girl that takes the same bus route as you, a girl at the library, a girl in your office, or even one you see pretty often at the coffee shop. Get an idea for when she is and isn’t around. Once you have that information shoot your favorite Agent an email or phone call and let’s talk. We’ll take down this information from you, discuss a pay rate and go to work. What that work is? Well we’ve got a couple of options for you.

You need this… because she doesn’t care about your Night Elf Ranger.

The entry level plan is something anyone can afford. Let’s take an example of the cute girl on the bus. Every time you guys look at one another she rolls those baby blue eyes and immediately gets back to her copy of The Girl Who Cried (or whatever chicks are reading these days) but not anymore. Once you make eye contact you give me the nod. I head over and sit down uncomfortably close to her. I take notice of her book and tell her that books are what chicks do when they aren’t paying attention to me… and that my friend, is just the start. I get heavy with the flirting and am quickly into uncomfortable territory. Then after a few minutes of that I up the game. I start touching her hair and get a little grabby. This is your cue. It’s time for you to man the fuck up and get in my face. Really let me have it too, I’m a pro, I can take it. I’ll start to yell back and then BAM!!!! You hit me right in the mouth and I go down like a sac of potatoes. Don’t you worry either, no matter how much of a pussy you are I’ll sell the fall (and believe me, I can sell a fall. I attended a two week wrestling seminar). Then, with me on the ground crying about how strong you are, it’s simply a matter of you making your move. Tell her you’re sorry that had to happen in front of her and oh man would you look at that? The bus is at the stop right next to that new coffee shop. You offer to buy her some tea to calm her nerves, and bingo. A hero and his lady on their first date.

This dude totally hit me in the ear before this picture was taken.

Now plan two is a little more involved. It takes time and unfortunately that might cost a little more. It starts with you giving us the run down on this little lady of yours. You’ll need to tell us what she is into and where she likes to hang out. Oh, and it would be great if you could snap some pictures while you are at it. Then the Agents go to work. Again, this might take some time but I want you to calm down and just go with the flow and not freak out. Why? Well, because we’ll start dating this girl and introduce you as our good friend with the heart of gold. Now you have an in with her. But I’m guessing that you are ready to start asking more fucking annoying questions about the plan, so I’m going to lay it out. Then plan is this… one of us dates her… gets in real good with her too… and then (I hope you are ready for it) breaks the shit out of her heart. Then the best friend with the heart of gold (You) moves in to pick up the pieces. Oh, I know it’s good, no need to tell me. Like I said, this plan WILL work but you just have to give it the time that it’s going to take. There will be plays and dinners, romance and dancing. All in all the relationship should last at least a year, that way the breakup really crushes her. The pricing for the plan may seem steep, but when you consider it’s going to take a year of my time, you’ll find that it’s actually rather affordable. Oh, don’t forget, you’ll be on the hook for any of the expenses on those “dates” but we’ll just send an itemized list to you each month for the costs incurred. But wait!! There’s more!! This month we are running a special. Half off the billable cost of the condoms that I use to fuck the girl of your dreams!!

Dear Agents

Posted: November 27, 2010 by mikeorastromike in Uncategorized

Every once in a while, even the Agents of Awesome get writer’s block.  Seriously, it’s not that we don’t have anything to write about, but more that we are just too lazy to come up with anything for the week.  Never fear, there is no way that we will leave our dozens of readers high and dry on a Thanksgiving weekend.  We made an oath that we would put out a new blog every week, and by Jove, we are going to do it! We refuse to break that oath, regardless of quality or an actual demand (Mostly because we made an oath with the Devil.  I still think we should have asked for more than a $75 JC Penny gift card).  So, what does one do when they have no inspiration?  Should we just quit?  Hell no!!  We’ll do what everyone else does, and rip off people funnier than us.  If a mailbag works for Dave Letterman or Bill Simmons, then why not for the Agents of Awesome?  So stick around and learn the answers to all of the questions you’ve been dying to know.


Dear Agents of Awesome,

This is multi-platinum recording artist Rihanna and I just wanted to write you an email and tell you that you are a giant douche.  You smell like farts and are not funny.  I would never go on a date with you, because I will only date good looking, smart, rich guys, not losers like you.  You probably have herpes too.  Please never mention my name again.

Go away and die,



Dear Rhianna,

I can honestly say that after the initial reading of this letter, my feelings were hurt just a tad.  The girl of my dreams thinks I have herpes and smell like farts.  And I’d be a liar if I said that I didn’t spend 3 days eating cheese from a can and listening to Coldplay.  But it’s a new day, and I need to focus on the positive.  First, our blog has taken Hollywood by storm.  Think of all the publicists, managers, and lawyers that have read our blog and are currently preparing legal action against us.  We’ve cracked the Hollywood elite! Second, while multi-platinum recording artist and teen R&B sensation Rhianna didn’t seem to feel my flow, there are plenty of other fish in the sea.  Why, multi-platinum recording star and teen pop sensation Miley Cyrus just turned 18.  What’s up girl? You wanna go get a Tour of Italy or somethin’?


Dear Agents of Filth,

I am a local chapter head for the children’s advocacy group TOC (Thinking Of the Children). It has come to my attention that your website is distributing filth and nonsense disguised as so-called humor.  I think it’s a sad state of affairs that this is what passes for comedy today.  Well let me tell you two something, “Boner, boner, fart joke” isn’t comedy and it shouldn’t be read by anyone.  I’m forwarding this email along with a link to your website to the all of our TOC groups (over 40,000 concerned parents) the PTA, the School Board, and my local MADD group.  This type of garbage shouldn’t be allowed on the Internet where it can get into our schools and poison our children’s minds.  From this point on consider yourselves boycotted.


Kimberly Preston

Chairwoman, TOC


Dear Kimberly,

Whoa!!  Thanks for the compliments.  Agents of Filth? We love it!  Where were you when we were coming up with a name?  It’s not often that I take the time to respond to fan mail, but this one really spoke to me.  There’s no better compliment then when our fans forward on our entries each week, and you have clearly gone above and beyond.  40,000+ people, all getting linked to our blog!  In fact, Ms. Preston (BTW, is there a Mr. Preston in the picture?) I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that Zedmore and I would love to stop by and make a personal appearance at one of your meetings.  We would love to get to know our fans one-on-one.  We’ll bring the wine coolers!



My name is DR CHARLES OBOSAH, INTERNAL AUDITOR MUTUAL TRUST BANK PLC. I am writing in respect of a foreign customer of our bank Mr. JONATHAN GHUNIAM with account number 14-255-2004/ASTB/123-99 who perished in an auto-crash in October 15 2010.

Since the demise of this our customer, I personally has watched with keen interest to see the next of kin but all has proved abortive as no one has come to claim his funds of US$9.5m (Nine Million Five Hundred Thousand United States Dollars), which has been with our branch for a very long time.

The banking ethics here does not allow such money to stay more than four years, because money will be recalled to the bank treasury as unclaimed after this period. In view of this, I decided to seek through internet whom to confine in for this transaction. I seek your consent to present you as the next of kin to the deceased.

So that the proceeds of this account valued at $9.5 million dollars can be paid to your account for sharing. 65% to me and 30% to you, while 5% should be for reimbursement of incidental expenses that may be incurred during the transaction or tax as your government may require.

When you receive this letter, kindly send me an e-mail on this mailbox including your most confidential telephone/fax numbers and your address for quick communication.

Your Friend


Dear Dr. Charles,

Wait… are you fucking serious?  My Uncle John is dead?  This is great!  I’ve been trying to get my hands on that $9.5 Mil for years!!  HAHA!!!  Fuck you Uncle John, it’s mine now!!  Doc, you have no idea how good this news is.  I’ve got some gambling debts, and lately this guy Tony was starting to come around. I mean, I started this stupid blog just to pay some of it off but no need!  Hey Zedmore, FUCK YOU!  Dr. Charles and I are making a new blog, except instead of a blog it’s NINE AND A HALF MILLION FUCKING DOLLARS!!!  Doc, I just sent you an email with my bank account and social security number.  Fuck this blog, just call me on my cell.

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