When I was a young boy I sniffed a lot of glue
Mom sent me to rehab, they told me what to do
We didn't have much money; the lord picked up the tab
They made me write him love songs, sitting in my room

Now I just drink whiskey and drive around my friends
Get a haircut, get a job, maybe born again
And if you're living badly, we'll tell you how to live
Dead, drunk, and naked…

"Dead, Drunk and Naked" by the Drive-By Truckers

It's been more than a month since my last post and I'm sure my loyal legion of readers are lost without my pearls of wisdom and rants of apoplectic fury. We're all searching for a path to follow and Lord knows this blog ain't taking you to meet St. Peter at the Pearly Gates or having your way with 72 virgins in Paradise. (Are female suicide bombers given the same 72 virgins deal? Don't you think they would prefer an experienced lover?) 

No, this blog ain't gonna grant you any Carlos Castaneda peyote inspired insights into why your life is a mess and you're unable to find the righteous path. No, it ain't. And Lord knows this blog ain't going to advise you not to take a quick peek at Kim Kardashian's sex tape with Ray J or not to bet all your spouse's hard-earned vacation money on Mine That Bird in the Belmont Stakes. No, it's not.

This blog isn't here to sermonize, but it is most certainly here to demonize. That's right, I am here to lay waste to those pieces of human excrement that make a mockery of our human existence. I am back to speak for the wretched, fight for the Gucci-less and bring back some savage truth. That's right, Sheridan has returned from being drunk, naked, but not dead. Lord knows, I'm too angry to die.

While I've Been Away

Caribou Barbie has resigned as governor of Alaska. My question: When did the Beverly Hillbillies drive their beat-up old truck to Wasilla, Alaska?

Michael Jackson will be memorialized today at the Staples Center. Wondering if a pedophile Catholic priest will step up and say a few kind words for the deceased King of Pop?

I've been listening to The Minutemen's "Political Song for Michael Jackson" continuously to assuage my sense of grief at the King of Pop's untimely passing.

Kobe Bryant will be at MJ's memorial service. Kobe and the King of Pop were both unfairly prosecuted by our criminal justice system, don't you think? (Alright, Kobe may have been unfairly prosecuted, but he's still a douche.)

The Kobe-led Los Angeles Lakers won a title, which makes me want to puke in my mouth.

Cro-Magnum men smoking cigars should not be allowed to stick a lit cigar out of their pickup truck window while driving in front of me. I've been tasting the remnants of his White Owl cigar in my beard for the last four hours. Next time, Cochise, how about some smokeless tobacco?

Jon and Kate have separated. Uhhhh ... did either one of them ever give a passing thought to their eight children as their infamy spread? Kate has a personal trainer, which can be certified by her camera shy, bikini photos and Jon has a girlfriend in her early-twenties. Did the Beverly Hillbillies miss a stop on their way to Wasilla?

You have to read Perez Hilton's take on the new Kate: Perez Hilton

Oh, and what was the name of Jon and Kate's book? That's right, it's called "Multiple Blessings." (Gag ... me ... with ... a ... freakin' ... spoon.)

It appears former NFL robo quarterback Steve McNair was shot dead by his 20-year-old girlfriend in a murder-suicide. She was pissed at his last Twitter update, which gave a shout out to his wife and four sons. I'm kidding, but that is really a sad scene in Nashville.

Governor Mark Sanford of South Carolina is my personal hero. He's just following a dream to find his soulmate in Argentina and what's so wrong about that? His four sons and wife may have a little problem with his quest for true love, but what can you do when Cupid strikes? Why are these political pinheads, like Sanford, determined to run for public office when their personal lives are more screwed up than a character from "Six Feet Under?" Sanford runs for governor of South Carolina, the citizens of South Carolina vote him into office and then he runs down to Argentina for a week and forgets to tell anyone he's leaving to make mad, passionate love to his South American soulmate. When he flushed away his political life in Argentina, did Sanford notice the water went down the toilet counter-clockwise?

Any self-respecting hardball fan that cheered Manny Ramirez's return to the Dodgers should have had his or her Tommy Lasorda bobblehead taken away.

Let's hug it out, bitch!

What's up with the Jenny Craig slimmed down bobblehead of Lasorda? How about some verite?

Why does the Tour de France start on July 4th? Are the French trying to stick it to America? The NFL doesn't schedule the Super Bowl on Bastille Day. Obama needs to talk to Sarkozy about this slight. Screw the nuclear arms talks with Putin's underling Medvedev. Let's call Sarkozy and his cycling sycophants on the carpet - N-O-W!

Derek Jeter was the leading vote-getter in the American League for MLB's Midsummer Classic, which brings a broad smile to this angry mofo's face. The Captain makes me want to believe in a higher power.

The Shat has a sensational cameo in "Fanboys." Could Capt. Kirk kick Hans Solo's ass? I know The Captain could kick Hans Solo's ass.

Is anyone else a little disturbed by the state of California's finances? Has anyone thought about offering the gig to Sarah Palin or Mark Sanford? How about former New York Governor Eliot Spitzer? He has nothing going on and he is a financial whiz.

If you haven't tried Sierra Nevada's Kellerweis Hefeweizen, grab your girlfriend's or same-sex marriage partner's put aside pedicure money and run to your friendly neighborhood liquor emporium. Buy a six-pack, dash home and allow this heavenly brew to tickle your lips, tantalize your taste buds and slake your thirst. If your soulmate asks where the pedicure money went, tell your spouse to pick up a Ped Egg.

"Dead, Drunk and Naked" by the Drive-By Truckers