July 20, 2014

multinipple-deactivated20140729 said: What would you do if you saw a woman giving birth on a subway?

Ask her if she could kindly keep her wails to a minimum — my panhandling doo-wop group and I are trying to sing “Earth Angel”.

June 12, 2014

Some years ago, a girl moved in to the apartment across the hall. I ran into her and we had a friendly, neighborly chat.

“So you’re moving into that apartment there?”

She said, “Yeah!”

I said, “The guy who lived there before you killed himself in there!” because that’s how I chit chat.

The expression on her face was as cold and dead as the guy who killed himself in her apartment.

1:15am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZjU9Cx1ITmo1r
Filed under: chit-chat dead guy 
April 24, 2014

imfeelingsassy said: Whoops! Sent that one to early. Anyway. As I was saying. Coming across your cracked article was the best thing that could have happened to me at 2:00 am. It made me laugh so hard, i scared my cat. Hilarity sir.

Thank you! But as a fellow cat owner, making you laugh so hard you scared your cat isn’t too big an accomplishment. If I lightly tap my cat while he’s facing the other way, he turns to me and screams, as if to say, “Dude! You can’t just do that to people! God!”

Also, congrats! You’re the first person to ever ask me a question on Tumblr! I have no prizes for you.

April 19, 2014

Anonymous said: Hi Dan, I really liked your book and the Cracked videos you've been writing/creating lately, but I miss your Friday columns. Are you ever going to go back to being a regular Cracked columnist or are you just too busy with other projects? P.S. You are awesome.


Thanks for the kind words! Unfortunately, my other responsibilities at Cracked make it impossible to keep up a weekly column-writing schedule. That column was a fun little playground for me and I loved having a regular spot, but I won’t say that it was the BEST thing for my general anxiety. I miss it, but if I still had to do a weekly column on top of all other responsibilities I’m pretty sure my brain would leak out of my butt.

The BEST thing about me not having a weekly column is that we’ve been able to bring a bunch new columnists into the fold and I’m super stoked to watch them all grow and challenge themselves. There’s an energy and hunger inherent to being a new columnist (Kathy Benjamin, Cezary Jan Struciewiscz, JF Sargent, Winston Rowntree, Pauli Poisuo, C. Coville, Luis Prada and an even larger list of roving columnists like Jason Iannone and Mark Hill) that’s really exciting to me. Keep an eye on ‘em, because they’re all doing some pretty cool stuff.

P.S. YOU are awesome.

April 18, 2014
New column! It’s about driving!



April 16, 2014


There are a lot of great podcasts on the Internet, and a lot of them have something to say about kids, but only this one has a baby in the studio.

THIS WEEK ON THE PODCAST: host Adam Tod Brown welcomes his Cracked co-workers Luis Prada and Randall Maynard to discuss the awful future that the youth of the nation have in store for us. Not to be outdone, comic Nick Hoff joins the show as well, and he’s not just talking about kids … he brought one. Chaos ensues.

I’m on this episode! wooooooooooooooooo

April 4, 2014
I am, officially, a Cracked columnist!

After many months of auditioning, I finally got it. Today, I am a Cracked columnist. I’ve got a banner and everything. (Banner made by Winston Rowntree). Here it is…


My first article is a non-list thing about my love for a terrible movie, Hudson Hawk, and the important lesson taught to me by my blind love of said shitty movie. It’s called:

One Valuable Life Lesson Hiding in One of the Worst Films

Enjoy it, and I hope you enjoy the many more columns to come.

March 9, 2014
The surplus of hatred



I’m a little bit drunk, and earlier tonight, I caught myself wondering if any of the authors I love have written something just a bit too honest about their craft while in a similar mind-state. Something not deleted in the light of day, or hastily revised or modified with post-scripts. I…

This. All of this.

February 16, 2014
New Cracked Column!

I rarely post my Cracked columns because, shit, I just forget. But not this time. Oooh, no. This time I surely will post a link to my latest column, “5 Bizarre Inspirations Behind Famous Movie Scenes.” Yup, I’ll totally do that…after I get some lunch.

Okay, back from lunch. Where was I? Oh, yeah! The column. Let me find the link…

Hey, here’s a fascinating article from Slate about why the Luge is faster than the Skeleton, aptly titled "Why Is Luge Faster Than Skeleton?"

Anyway, my column. Right.

Sorry, I just played Papers, Please for an hour.

Just read my article so I can stop writing this, please?

2:34pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZjU9Cx17bqy8Y
Filed under: cracked column 
February 13, 2014
I sliced off a chunk of my thumb!

About a year ago it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t been to the doctor in over a decade. I made all the necessary calls and set up all the appointments for various checkups and whatnot, including going to a lab to get some blood work done. While getting my blood drawn, I nearly passed out. Apparently, the sight of my own blood freaks me out. When my eyes make contact with the inside red stuff flowing outside of me, I immediately become pale, I break into full-body sweats, and come very close to passing out. In the words of my mom when I told her that this happens to me when I see my own blood, “you need to man up.” I agree, but that shit ain’t happening anytime soon. Case in point:


That’s my right thumb. I sliced off a large chunk of it last night using a mandolin — not the music kind; the kitchen kind. I love to cook, and kitchen gadgets, no matter how stupid, are an obsession of mine. I have a little motorized whipping thingy that’s supposed to be used for frothing hot milk for lattes. I use it for chocolate milk. How mandolins work is, you get the vegetable you want to cut into perfect slices, stick one end of it to a safety handle, and then run the veggie through the extremely sharp blade positioned along the body of the device. That safety handle is there for a reason: safety, I presume. But I don’t play by the rules. I needed carrots sliced for an Italian sausage soup. Why use a knife when I have a badass mandolin? Safety handle? Pfft! That will only delay soup-to-mouth gratification.

So, I sliced and sliced until I sliced off a chunk of thumb meat. I screamed “fuck” a lot, and blood gushed. I ran my thumb under the faucet, which made me scream some more, louder fucks. There was blood everywhere. It was a nightmare. Within seconds, all color vanished from my face. Like I had been splashed with a bucket of water, sweat covered me from head to toe. I felt faint, and, if not for my girlfriend using her body to squeeze me up against the counter in a way that in any other context would be grounds for a sexual harassment lawsuit, I would have collapsed.

When I nearly passed out during the blood test, the nurse (who very kindly kept her mouth shut and withheld all instincts to call me a pussy) placed a cotton swab soaked with rubbing alcohol under my nose. The sting of the alcohol grabbed the world by the shoulders and demanded that it stop spinning. As I was passing out after the mandolin incident, I stumbled to the couch with a paper towel firmly pressed against my thumb to stop the bleeding (it wouldn’t stop for a few hours). Somewhere along the way I told my girlfriend to get me some alcohol. This next part may seem like a clichéd joke but it actually happened: she grabbed a bottle of gin. I love that my girlfriend thinks I’m a badass action movie hero who drowns pain with booze straight from the bottle, even as the events currently unfolding before her eyes clearly show that I’m more the Damsel In Distress than anything.

She soon figured out what I meant, and the alcohol swab she stuffed under my nose leveled me out. She later checked the mandolin for the missing piece of thumb. She couldn’t find it, only some sliced carrots and a lonely slice of potato.

I hadn’t sliced any potatoes. That was my thumb chunk, so cleanly sliced she mistook it for an ingredient in our meal.

After a few painful hours in an Urgent Care center (made easier with some delicious codeine), I was patched up. I didn’t need any stitches because when you’ve got a chunk of you missing, there really isn’t much to stitch. They fill in the whole like it’s a pothole and tell you not to be dumb anymore.

I shouldn’t be writing this. I should have my right arm in a sling to prevent any further bleeding (doc said it could still gush blood for the next couple of days if I’m not careful). But the running theme here is not following directions, so, yeah. Type type type type type ajhdajhsaushdkahdjakshdkajdh look at me! I’m typing with my hand down as blood rushes to my thumb!


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