The Conedog Cometh 

As usual, I missed seeing the Conan O'Brien show last night. Why? Because I'm boycotting the Fu**er. He's a lean, mean, Irish machine with a penchant for Dairy Queen Dilly Bars™ and FIRING HIS BEST EMPLOYEES for no good reason.

I'll give you a dilly bar Mr. Red-Headed-Conedog. That's right buster! You hear it! I've got a frozen dilly bar with your name on it.

Run! Run to Canada. Hide out in your own frozen wasteland of self-deprecation and witless guile. I'm getting my job back and there is very little or very much you can do about it.

ROAR! Grrrrr. Raaa.

Curtain Calls on Conan 

Conan O'Brien ruined my career and my life.

I was once the head writer on his show, now I'm nothing. I'm a dog. I'm lower than a dog.

ConeDog, I hope you feel the bitter chill of my anger piercing the dark depths of your heartless soul. Brrrrr!

this site is in no way affiliated with, sponsored by or under the approval of NBC or the Conan O'Brien show. Although it should be Seeing as how I was turfed without thought or consideration seven weeks before my wife gives birth to our second child, but regardless, Conan has not approved this site and it bites my ass just to have to validate his sorry ass to even mention that I could possibly even need his approval. The bastard.

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