I was in a bar the other night and “Break Stuff” came on, setting off a ranting discussion between everyone around me about the dubious merits or lack thereof of Limp Bizkit, and more importantly, the man, the gold cobra himself, Fred Durst. Like some sort of red-capped pied piper of date rape, Fred Durst captivated the nation for a brief moment, and the ptsd of his celebrity still lingers with children of the late 90s.

He’s somehow still around, directing family films (Longshots, whatup? Nothing. Nothing’s up.) and just generally being a d-bag. But a decidedly different kind than he was before. Anyway, long story medium, he’s currently in the midst of a 60 day juice cleanse, and tumbling about it hysterically (at least to me) here. I know this sounds weird, but I implore you to check it out. It’s very, very sad. He’s having trouble finding a good juicer. He cheated a couple days ago and ate a cookie. God this is good.

- Whole Milk