Doug Giles

If I hung around all the Beavises in close proximity to Britney Spears and those Anna Nicole was unfortunate enough to schlep with and Hollywood was my reality, I, too, would:

1. shave my head,

2. be wasted during awards shows,

3. stay completely blitzed out of my brain on dope,

4. tattoo every square inch of my noggin,

5. pierce, not just my ears, but the front part of my brain,

6. pummel parked cars with umbrellas.

I know I have a black belt in being a loveless jerk; however, I can empathize with their extreme behavior and their indulgence into mind-altering drugs. If I were forced into their situation and had to listen to Bobby Trendy, Howard K. Stern, KFed and Paris’s stuff 24/7, I would take bong hits morning, noon and night, mainline Ketel One and drink methadone like it was Yoo Hoo. If not, I’m afraid that I’d be up on murder charges, as I lean more toward being homicidal than suicidal.

Thankfully, drugs, an early grave and murder are not the only option for Brit (or any other girl caught in similar circumstances). One thing you young ladies could do is take responsibility and climb out of that toilet you’ve gotten yourself into, and muy pronto. That’s right, leave your “friends” now. All of them. Including your family, if they have aided and abetted your asininity. Do it. Wherever you are . . . go! Just take off running in the opposite direction, even if that means into heavy traffic on the 405. Dodging multiple high speed moving vehicles is safer than hanging with the warped monkeys you’re around now.

Most folks would say you Britney-types need to go to rehab. I’m all about going to rehab. I’m in rehab right now. I’m trying to get delivered from my acerbic Left loathing, my metrosexual nausea, my America loving, my gun collecting, my God worshipping and my testosterone addictions that the secular progressives say are “wrong.” It’s not going very well. I keep on falling off the wagon. Or is it falling on the wagon? Whatever it is, I’m not getting “better.” Anyway, this is not about me and my angst. My advice for you, Brit (and those mired in similar Shiite), is not to check-in to rehab, but dive into hunting. This is easy math.

Check it out: Hollywood hates guns, hunting and eating meat, and they spit out the daftest characters on the planet. Therefore, if you girls don’t want to be a Tinseltown divorced multiple times, plastic surgery addicted, booze and dope dependant STD machine, you’ve got to do the opposite of what Hollywood does; i.e., get into guns, hunting and eating meat. It’s logical. My grad school profs would be proud of that deduction . . . I think.

Doug Giles

Doug Giles is the Big Dawg at and the Co-Owner of The Safari Cigar Company. Follow him onFacebook and Twitter. And check out his new book, Rise, Kill and Eat: A Theology of Hunting from Genesis to Revelation.