We're gonna stick our necks out here and posit that perhaps intimidation over TJ Miller's giraffe fact prowess is not what's herding the honeys away.

This gent's pissed off that his lovely piece of ham has been, well...pissed on. What a bunch of bologna.

This dude-loving 'bot just wants to show his frat bros his buns of steel. Not that there's anything wrong with it.

The aptly-named "Rob" has taken to a life as a "polite mugger". One can only imagine he'll go on to bigger and and better crimes: eloquent carjacker, magnanimous burglar, attorney general...

Sure, monkeys can do sit-ups, but you should see 'em on the, uh, monkey bars.

Seriously - dude, if you don't keep it down, I'm gonna have to call the Stormtroopers, and let's just say you won't be getting to Tosche Station to pick up those power converters for at least 15 to life.

Perhaps comedic no-goodniks Better Than The Machine are in need of some prune juice for their constipated souls because right now, no matter how worthy the cause, they simply can't bring themselves give a shit.

Dave Hill's ascending from mom & dad's underground Cleveland digs and, with some help from some slightly off-key bikini babes, and his own personal PHILosopher/bodyguard (a.k.a. Jer-Z rawk phenom Satanicide's Aleister Cradley), he's taking his rightful place on the first throne he can find. So long as it's in Miami. And it doesn't clash with his schweet spray-on tan.

Red-hot puddy tat dancing action!

(And we double-dog dare ya to try and get the song out of your head afterward.)

It's a hardcore, uncensored Michael Showalter Showalter showdown when Paul Rudd gets Randy all over his interview with, uh, Michael Showalter.

The musical "Cats"? Oh, so short-sighted. A Week of Kindness has conscripted the entire wild kingdom to perform in in their all-singing, all-winging, all-stampeding, all-breeding theatrical extravaganza.