“Wish You Were Here” — a compendium co-authored by me and seven other Las Vegas writers — is now available on Amazon and iTunes. My chapter is about the decade I spent living among bohemians in Paris in the 1920s.

Oh wait, no. That was Henry Miller.

I wrote an autobiographical story about murder, deception and dinner with George Maloof. (He ate Chinese vegetables — while he was texting Britney Spears — on the dining-room table I purchased on Craigslist for $100 less than the wine he brought was worth.)

Buy it or enjoy Hell.

Sorry, people who want to see me die. It’s only a story for a new travel website called Travora. Click here to read the story, and check back for more!

In my stories, I sample all manner of weird jobs and experiences outside my comfort zone. That’s not because I’m brave. It’s because I’m not. With my scoop hat, I’m George Plimpton willing to jump on any grenade for good copy. Without it, I’m George Costanza.

In my column, most recently known as “Fear and Loafing,” I washed the windows at the top of the Sratosphere, danced as a go-go boy in a gay bar and midwifed a stranger’s baby.

Because of this gig, my gravestone cannot read “a coward who never tried sh*t.” Also because of cemetery regulations.

The gentlemen pictured above taught me how to be a gangsta rapper. There I am in the center, if you can’t tell, making a “C” for Hard Corey. Immediately after this column ran, no joke, police raided their studio and made several arrests. (Click here and Hard Corey will rap for you.)

So far, I’ve done my thing for Playboy, the New York Post and daily newspapers in Los Angeles and Las Vegas. (Click here to read an article AOL News/The Huffington Post wrote about me last year, and here to hear Howard Stern interview me for a 2003 Playboy article I wrote — before meeting my wife — about hitting on women in inappropriate places.) I’m not going to mention the many awards these stories have won, because that would be totally uncool.

Hey, how did that get in there? How embarrassing!

To the right are links to hundreds of my favorite columns and videos. (Use the bars beside each item to scroll downward.)

There was the time in L.A. that I skydived with a Flying Elvi member strapped to my back who was, umm, happier than I would have preferred about the experience. But of course, who among us doesn’t know the feeling of plummeting thousands of feet toward possible death with an Elvis impersonator’s excitement digging into your butt?

Speaking of killer snakes, nude modeling in L.A. was another one for the crazy books. And then there was that time I was covered head to toe in killer snakes that were literal…

Ballerina was a fun change of pace. That one was from L.A., too…

And one lovely Filipino couple somewhere out there is actually married based on the authority vested in me as a Catholic priest.

But my all-time favorite adventure was the time I was detained by the Redondo Beach police for suspicious behavior while dressed as a giant promotional character. Clearly, this was a case of good cop vs. bad cup…