My only question is…why did it take so long for someone to write/perform this?

Click here for the Story of Clarice.

And all of these wonderful numbers:

If I Could Smell Her Bearded Clam.

Superficial People.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock Clarice.

Remember the Pen That I Saw on the Table.

It Puts the Fucking Lotion in The Basket.

We’re Goin’ In!

Creeping in the Dark With a Maniac.

Obviously one of the best things about being an entrepreneur is having a lot of disposable income. The thing is you’d be surprised how difficult it is to actually dispose of it, of course this sounds stupid, but it’s still true. I mean unless you are a rapper and just go dog nuts on jewels and gold and diamond and platinum encrusted chalices and the like, stuff really doesn’t cost that much beyond a certain point.

A weird thing happens at some nebulous point on the income scale. I call it the Room Of Crap.

Go to any rich person’s house and you will find a Room Of Crap. You see, you get to this point where you just sort of buy things reflexively, the price is basically a non-issue so you see something that catches your eye and you just buy it. The thing of it is, not all of this stuff is actually useful. Or, if it is useful, it just isn’t to me. For example I seem to have a startling number of iPods, Sony PSPs, Gameboys and/or PDAs. Now the truth is you really only need one of these. But in reality, one day I’m browsing at the Apple Store and I spot the new iPod Nano. Now when I was poor I’d gawk and hope and lust and plan to save my pennies. Now I don’t give a fuck about a couple hundred bucks, I earned it by the sweat of my brow, I deserve to spend it. So, I buy it. Eventually I have 3 or 4 iPods. Where do I put them?

The Room Of Crap.

As you can probably surmise this is a room in my house where I put the stuff I’ve bought and don’t really use. Like what you may wonderwell here’s a random sampling:

Seasons 1-4 of “The Shield” on DVD.
A ceramic…thing.
A spare set of Goodyear Eagle F1 Supercar tyres.
Seasons 1-2 of “The OC” on DVD.
A large National Geographic world atlas.
An impact gun.
An aluminum NASCAR style car jack.
A large pair of night vision binoculars.
Three iPod boxes, may or may not contain iPods.
A PSP. (With several games.)
An electric guitar.
A bunch of mountain climbing gear.
Three different remote controlled cars.
A Dyson vacuum cleaner. (Shit, that’s where I put that!)
A panini grill.
Three, no four LED flashlights.

Anyway you get the idea. My advice? The next time you visit a rich, single guy find his Room Of Crap and take yourself home a parting gift. He’ll never miss it.

Man I love Del Taco.

In honor of Taco Tuesday I present the secret history of Del Taco, here’s how it all started. The corporate flacks who run it now won’t tell you this either. You see Del Taco was founded in the mid 60’s in southern California. There were these two guys, they were rich kids, avid surfers and, let’s face it, pot-heads. Each day they’d meet at the beach in their rainbow day-glo painted VW camper vans (or maybe they were woodies, I forget) and hit the waves. They’d finish surfing around lunch time and then bake in the van for a while, then one guy would head south to the Burger King and the other guy would head north to the closest taco shack.

The one guy would get fish tacos, the other french fries. Then they’d meet back at the beach and have lunch.

After doing this about a zillion times (remember folks, pot-heads) the following discussion took place during one of their VW camper van bake sessions:

“Dude this is such a hassle driving to two different places for lunch.”
“I agree; totally bogus, man.”
“Wouldn’t it be totally radical if there was a resturant that sold fish tacos AND fries???”
“Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude, you are totally on to something!”

One of the guys got his rich dad to bankroll the project. The old man was only too thrilled to do so because it meant his kid was finally going to work instead of smoking weed and surfing all day. Of course the joke was on the old man because in 1976 the two founders sold all their stock to a food service company and, presumably, went back to smoking weed and surfing.

True story.