Cru Jones Society

Some mornings just start so nicely, you just awake in a good mood, there’s no barking from the dog, no smog, a breakfast with no hog, er wait, I like bacon. The point is everything in the world just feels right. Then you get into the elevator at work and the lingering aroma from the last occupant assaults your nostrils and sends the day down a whole new awful direction.

The weird thing is the smell wasn’t a fart, or a rotting corpse, or some other foul rancid odor. The scent that set me off was the fragrance of some, I’m presuming, woman’s perfume. Now for the most part I love the way women smell, usually they smell so pretty. This particular morning the perfume wafting through the tiny compartment was that of a cocoanut persuasion. It smelled like a goddamned pina colada in that elevator. Now I’m not against pina coladas, but if given options I wouldn’t drink one. But that is not where the problem lies. The problem comes from Rupert Holmes and his asstacular song “Escape (The Pina Colada Song).” Continue Reading »

As we get back into the swing of things here at the Cru Jones Society, we might as well stick to what we know. Last year I shared with you a playlist to close out your summer.  And yeah, fine, it was also my birthday playlist, but I’m willing to bet if you actually created that playlist for yourself, you had a damn good time drinking on the patio while it played in the background.

So, in keeping that same spirit, I present to you Songs to Close Out Your Summer Pt. II (aka E Dagger’s 29^th Birthday Playlist). Grab some beers, program your iTunes, and let’s enjoy the waning days of patio weather together. Continue Reading »

Happy fuckin’ Friday, motherfuckers!

We mean that with as much affection and sincerity as you can possibly handle. It felt really, really good to log back in here and build an article. We missed this place, and since we’ve been gone since the middle of May, we have to get that weird musty smell out of the comments section where random vagrants showed up like this weirdo who bitched about Hart’s criticism of Big Head Todd, and this dickhead who dropped in from nowhere to make a snarky comment about my Jeep Wrangler article from 16 months ago.

Get outta here, you bums! The kings are back and we’re here to close out your week right, just like we did for the last time over 5 months ago. Inside this edition is an explanation for where we’ve been, the stuff we’ve written that you probably haven’t seen, where we’re going, and all the funky fresh goofiness from all across the interwebs just like you saw every Friday for 94 editions. So like we said…

Happy fuckin’ Friday, motherfuckers! Continue Reading »

One of the favorite all time jokes of CJS is Lewis Black’s “If it weren’t for my horse…” joke. The gist of the joke is that Lewis is sitting in the International House of Pancakes when a young woman of 25 says the single dumbest thing he’s ever heard. She says, “If it weren’t for my horse… I wouldn’t have spent that year in college,” a statement so disarmingly stupid, they eventually find Lew dead in his bathroom deceased from apparently attempting to unpack a sentence that idiotically vexing and keeling over from the frustration.

With that as your context, I submit the following… Continue Reading »