Monday, June 28, 2010

Letters from the Mailbox written with Love

Yes, ladies and gentle...ladies (and Dan). It is time for more letters from around the globe from my adoring readers. My mailman finally allowed me to take a picture of his smiling face today (see left).

He looks happy because he isn't wearing any pants. *cue dramatic detective music*

Needless to say, I was taken aback by what he pulled out of his mail sack today. Have you ever been taken aback? It sucks. I have been taken asideways and taken aforward more times than I care to remember. I was taken adiagonally once. That was a little ticklish. Being taken aback is truly mind-altering. Anyway, on to the letters...


Dear Man,

Help me with my problems today, I begging of you. I can not open this jar of jelly, no matter which way I turn my hand. I tried smashing it against my face, but now my face is so sore and sad. I am so sad to not have jelly. So sad. The jelly mocks me with every twist of my wrist. I want to bite it.

Hungry in Hungary

Dear Hungry,

Get a grip on yourself (instead of that jar LOL). Jelly is overrated and quite frankly disgusting. I have written 12 books on this subject (“Jelly is Smelly and screws up your Belly”, “Grape Helly”, “Peanut Butter and Nothing”, “Fuck Jelly and other Nursery Rhymes” and others), all of which you can find in your local library. Do your research and give your hand (and face) a rest. Jelly Kills.

Dear Miss,

I slid down the stairs in my home and now find myself concussed and without pants. Besides the dizziness, I am dreadfully chilly. Plus, my nose is running. I have been crying all morning and my cat won’t come and cuddle with me. Do you have a sure-fire home remedy for this predicament?

Ailing in Acapulco

Well, my dear old Gamma-Gamma Maw-Maw used to cook up this cure for the symptoms you describe above. I hope this helps:

1. Boil a large pot of cat urine.
2. Stick your concussed head in it. All the way in it. That’s right.
3. Put your pants back on.
4. Act like a man.
5. Stop crying!
6. Smack yourself thirteen times.
7. Shut up.
8. Sit down.
9. Get up!
10. I said SIT DOWN!
12. We can do this all day!

Gamma-Gamma Maw-Maw was a tough S.O.B.

Dear Stupid,

You once wrote “to each heart is delivered a flower from which the pollen will cause blooms of love never-ending in the bloodstream of man.” I answered a question on my medical school final exam with this statement, which I took to be fact. I was expelled, disgraced and raped by my fellow students. I want you to refund my entire medical school tuition immediately. You will be hearing from my various lawyers and therapists.

Non-Doctor in Nantucket

Dear Non-Doc,

First off, I definitely never wrote what you said I did. I think it daily, but I never wrote it. Get out of my head. What I did write, was this, which is similar: “to each fart is delivered a nose from which the snot will cause blooms of vomit never-ending in the toilets of man.” It is easy to see why you got confused. Sorry about the final exam. When in doubt, the answer is 42.

Dear Friend,

I was wondering if you could resolve a dispute I’m having with my friend. He says that the Rolling Stones are all vampires, and I say that they are all zombies. What say you?

Curious in Caracas

Dear Curious,

I thought by now it is common knowledge that the Rolling Stones are vampire zombies. Note the herky jerky way Mick Jagger walks across the stage and hisses at the fans in the front row. Observe how Charlie Watts robotically moves his arms while drumming and periodically hides his face behind a cape, showing only his eyes. Notice how Keith Richards eats skin off of his already-dead hands and feet between each song and takes long swigs from a bottle labeled "Go-Go Juice" that looks suspiciously like the blood of 10,000 virgins. The Stones are ravenous vampire zombies. And also werewolves. And Incredible Hulks. I would call this bet a tie.

Dear M.O.M,

I was in line at the supermarket today, and I saw this headline on a popular tabloid magazine: “Millions of Atoms Man goes to the movies with his enormous stomach hanging over his cowboy belt and butter stains on his shirt. He’s just like us!” Care to comment?

Gossipy in Gainesboro

Dear Gossipy,

Guilty as charged. What can I say, I love movies and processed butter-flavored liquid on my popcorn. Those tabloids need to stay out of my life. I know I am a big blogging star, but can a brother get some privacy? I would like to see this headline one day: “Lindsay Lohan trips on the sidewalk outside her house and cocaine falls out of her socks. She’s nothing like us at all!”

Dear Mister Millions,

I fly first class any time I have to travel. Recently, I was banned for life from Delta Airlines for something I did on my last flight from Atlanta to Toronto. Everyone in first class was asleep, so I decided to drop my pants and gently (ever so gently) place my buttocks on top of the person’s head who was sleeping next to me. I took a picture with my cell phone and titled it “Butt Hatt”. 45 minutes later, the flight was grounded and I was in handcuffs being lead off the plane. I told the authorities that you told me to do this. I wanted to give you a heads up in case you are contacted by the FAA.

Photographer in Fairview

Dear Photog,

You owe me 100,000 dollars American for unauthorized use of “Butt Hat” (my first band’s name – we were big in Germany. Trademark. Look it up.). Beyond that, I never told you to take any pictures of your bare ass cheeks perched on a snoozing air traveler’s noggin. I told you specifically to put your nuts in their Vodka Tonic and call it a “Balltini”.

On second thought, I don’t know you. Never heard of you. Or Airplanes.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

iPhorgot what today is

Super Happy Fun Time

It's that time again: iPhone day. iPhone 4 burst onto the scene today as iPhone 3 is all like "What happened to us?" iPhone 5 is doing 'roids and saying "I will time travel. I assure you. I will."

I want you to click the link above and take a close look at the accompanying picture. A line of people that streches to infinity of the most miserable looking people you will ever see. Not one smile. 90 percent have their heads bent at the neck looking down at some other phone thing that probably does everything that the thing they are in line for is promising to do (although, not very well from early reports).

Enjoy your iPhone 4 everyone! When you get it to work right, that is. Hey, look at me! I'm talking to you! OK, just send me a text message then, when you get a chance.


Edit 6/25: Oh, it gets even better: It works great, except for the phone part...

Imagine buying a phone, and then being told by the owner of the company to "hold it differently" if you want the phone call part to work. Hold it differently. That's like when I was a little kid, and we used to wrap the antenna of our TV with Aluminum Foil to get the reception to come in better, or bend it in weird shapes.

Except it is 2010 now and we didn't wait in line two days for aluminum foil.

Book of Kitty: Verse 100, Chapter 1

There came to pass a gathering of all Angels in Heaven. During this gathering, one Angel brought some spectacular weed and every other Angel at the gathering commenced to getting totally baked. After three hours of debauchery too sordid to be repeated here in this scripture, God showed up and laid a Holy whipping on every Angel in his sight. From that day on, all Angels flew with a limp and vowed never to let Steve the Angel come to any more gatherings because he is a bad apple.

God Loves us All, but ye should never get high in Heaven and piss-eth all over the Pearly Gates.


Wednesday, June 16, 2010

From the Oval Office

I am sure most of you watched President Obama’s speech last night from the Oval Office about the BP Oil disaster in the Gulf of Mexico. I thought the speech was serviceable, but I felt there was definitely not enough cursing. Not one fist slam on the desk either, which was regrettable. I actually submitted a speech for the White House to consider using last night. They regretfully declined. Tell me what you think, k?


My Fellow Americans,

We are faced with the worst disaster in American History. Millions of gallons of oil are being pumped into the Gulf of Mexico each and every day. The wildlife in the region is in extreme danger. The local businesses are under great financial strain. The local fishermen are going out of business.

I first want to commend BP on their brilliant plan to shoot golf balls into the leak in an effort to stop this destruction; really excellent troubleshooting there. Was Modell’s all out of baseballs? Did Toys R US run out of mother fucking bouncy balls? Did you get a chance to execute your “Rubik’s Cube Offensive” yet? The world waits with baited breath.

I also want to give you a huge Presidential “thumbs up” for your beautiful television ads that show your CEO looking very sorry and apologetic. I am glad you are so concerned about your public image. Never mind the image of the ducks dripping oil from their feathery asses. How much did those ads cost, by the way? I noticed that they run every half hour on CNN in primetime. If you will take a little constructive criticism, perhaps that money could have been better used in buying more golf balls? You could have bought tons of Silly Putty or Play-Doh for the amount that those ads must have cost you. Think of the lost possibilities.

I find myself getting a lot of the blame for this disaster, and so I feel the time has come for me to take some concrete action. Words are just empty promises until fulfilled by action.

As you can see, I am putting on a specially designed wet suit. I am going to then put on a snorkel apparatus and get in a helicopter. The helicopter will take me directly and without delay to the Gulf of Mexico. I will then swan dive into the middle of that shit and eat it. That’s right. I’m going to eat. Every. Last. Gallon. Of. Oil. In. That. Motherfucking. Ocean. I will not stop until it is all gone. While I am “containing” the oil, special ambassador Chuck Norris will roundhouse kick the leaking pipe and use his beard to weld it shut. I will leave him in the Gulf Region to scream the oil off of all the wildlife.

I will then roll myself on to shore, get back into a reinforced helicopter that will handle the extra weight, and fly directly to BP headquarters. After entering the office of the CEO, I will bend over and shit that oil all over the BP CEO’s expensive oak desk. I hope to cover all of his golf trophies and deer heads mounted on the wall with my oil-filled excrement. I should have enough left over for the CIO, the CFO, the EIEIO, the LOL and even the secretary will get an oily fart thrown her way. I will not rest until that entire building is filled to the brim with a special “Presidential Pardon” meaning “Pardon me while I expel the contents of my intestinal tract all over your god damned billion dollar corporation.”

In closing, I want to pass on a special message from my friend Timmy the Turtle. What’s that Timmy? OK, I’ll tell them. Timmy says “glugglugglugglurrg” because he has oil coming out of every orifice. Per Timmy’s dying wish, “BP” will now stand for “Bullshitting Pricks”.

Thank You and Good Night.


For reasons known only to them, the White House declined my draft of the President’s speech. I prefer my version to his, all due respect.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

"Everything's Coming Up Babies!"

Mr. and Mrs. Freemantle get the good news over the phone that they have been chosen to appear on a new reality show called “Everything’s Coming Up Babies!” The show deals with the months leading up to the birth of a new baby (or babies). Part of the process involves a home interview with the happy couple, who at this time are 7 months along and expecting quadruplets. Mrs. Freemantle, Judy, is quite large and very uncomfortable. Mr. Freemantle, Ray, is beaming happily and excited about the prospect of becoming a father. The camera crew and an interviewer have just arrived at the Freemantle home to interview Ray for the show.

“Testing. Testing. One, two three. Testing. OK for you? Good. OK Ray, we are just going to ask you some basic questions about you and Judy. Answer however you see fit, ok? Real informal.” The interviewer finishes testing the microphone and hooks it up to Ray’s shirt collar.

“No problem,” says Ray as he settles into his favorite chair.

A voice from behind him says “Counting down. Ready in 3…2…1…”

“Thanks for taking some time to talk to us, Ray. How did you and Judy meet? What was your first date like?”

“We had a rocky start to our relationship. I admit I wasn’t the nicest guy to be around. Between the heroin and the drinking, I was a real ‘gloomy Gus’, if you will. One time, Judy came over to my apartment with some takeout food for dinner, and I got so enraged by the sight of her I punched her in the neck so hard her throat collapsed and her Adam’s apple exploded. Boy was I embarrassed! I was so high when she walked in the door I thought she was a Panda Bear coming to put me in jail for concealing a cartoon hammer. She wasn’t a Panda Bear though, she was Judy, and I had to make a call to 911 pretty quick! That was our first date and we always remember it to this day with a fond smile.”

“CUT!” The director’s voice booms out over a loudspeaker as the interviewer leans in to talk to Ray. “Ray, ah, you want to try to cool it with the drug and violence talk? This is a family show.”

“You wanted to know about our first date!” Ray protested.

“Yes, I know, but try to clean up your stories. Consider your audience, OK? Now, why don’t you tell us about the night you proposed to Judy,” the interviewer says as she leans a little closer to Ray squinting as though she is interviewing the Prime Minister of England on national TV.

“Wow, what an amazing evening that was. We finished our ‘Moons over My Hammy’ at our local Denny’s and she was like totally constipated. I started making fun of her backed up shitter and then she eventually gave in and started laughing about it too. That’s when she noticed a ring floating in her Diet Doctor Pepper. I had the waitress put it in there! She fished it out and started weeping all over the place. Needless to say, I was disgusted with her public display of weakness. After disciplining her at the table in front of the Denny’s patrons, I asked her to marry me. She initially said ‘No’ through a lot of tears and whining, but I suggested she say ‘Yes’. By ‘suggested’ I mean I silently stared at her clenching and unclenching my jaw until she said ‘Yes’, and the rest is romance history!”

“Um, ah,” the reporter nervously shuffles her notes. “So, Quadruplets! Tell me your reaction when you found out you were going to be having four babies at once!”

“Well, I was enthusiastic; maybe overly so! I was completely naked, of course, and I was just doing a little jig singing, ‘I’m Gonna Knock You Out’ over and over again until I had all of that nervous energy out of my system. Then when the prostitute left our pool house, I found Judy and let her know that I was finally OK with all of this, despite my initial reaction of vomiting all over her newly-planted bed of hydrangeas. I also kicked her kneecap off. Initially, mind you. Plus, we found the kneecap in the hydrangeas, which was fortunate.”


An exasperated Ray throws his hands up in a helpless gesture as the interviewer confers with the director. The interviewer returns and says, “Ray, we are having a big problem with your choice of language. Please clean up your act for TV, ok?”

“I thought I was being clean,” Ray mutters to himself as he nods an agreement and the interview continues.

“Has your wife had many physical symptoms of pregnancy? How involved have you been?”

“Oh me oh my, those babies have certainly been active! Those little bas- Those little guys have really been moving around. The way they have been kicking in there, I think we have a whole soccer team in there! Hopefully they aren’t Argentinean, am I right? They are really flipping around like a bunch of little nutfuckers!”


“Ray, please, you cannot curse on this show. This is a show being broadcast during the day on a family network!”

“Oh, right, right, sorry about that.”

“OK and ACTION!”

“When I found out we were pregnant, my stomach flipped a few hundred times! *laughs* I told my boss and he wasn’t too enthusiastic for some reason, starting in with ‘What about work?’ and ‘Who is going to cover for you?’ and whatnot. What a shitbrick!”


The interviewer hurriedly packs up her things as the entire camera crew packs up and leaves within a five minute time period. Ray looks around confused and then heads into the kitchen where Judy is waiting expectantly.

“Well, how did it go?” Judy asks.

“I think it went OK, Jude. I really do.” Ray says. Just then he leans very close to Judy’s face, inspecting her eyebrows. He reaches up suddenly and violently pulls a handful of eyebrow hair from in between Judy’s eyebrows. “Told you to clean that shit up,” he says as Judy tears up and the sound of squealing tires shrieks from the driveway.

Friday, June 4, 2010

Office Doorway Etiquette

I work in an office. I think I have mentioned this before. I work in the kind of office that you picture in your head when you hear the word “office”: Rows of cubicles with grey walls and little windows. Some of the walls have jaunty decorations with lots of pictures of the kids thrown in for good measure. Around the holidays, everyone expresses their “individuality” by putting up little strings of lights or other similarly themed decorations (until corporate circulates a memo reminding everyone that they work in a corporate environment and should treat said environment with such respect as a corporate environment deserves in these trying…zzzzzzzzzzz)


Oh, the office. My office building has two sets of doors at the main entrance. The main front facing door and then two steps after that a second door. The little foyer or entranceway in between the two sets of doors serves no purpose, but it is there anyway taking up space (kind of like the people who type up corporate memos). When I arrive at work each morning, there are usually at least two or three other co-workers arriving at the same time making a tiny dispirited parade as we near the first door. The man ahead of me swipes his employee ID card and opens the outer door, holding it open for me as I swipe my ID card.

I say “Thank You!” to the man for being so considerate.

He then arrives at the second door and holds that door open for me also.

At this point, a variety of things happen.

Sometimes I say “Thanks” in a quieter voice hoping to somehow diminish the gratitude I’m displaying in light of the fact that I just gave him a hearty “THANK YOU” not seconds before.

Sometimes, I say nothing because who does this guy think he is wanting two separate displays of gratitude mere seconds apart? Ghandi?

Sometimes (though not often) I say “THANK YOU” just as enthusiastically as the first time, especially if he looks like he’s about to weep openly or side-kick my Achilles tendon.

Sometimes I say “FUCK OFF!” as loud as I can just to completely throw him for a loop and make him rethink his chivalrousness.

OK, I don’t do that last one. Most often, I go with option one which is an odd “Doorway Etiquette” rule that I see many other people engage in also.

“Thank you!” *quieter voice* “Thanks”. As if giving out two “Thank You’s” in a row at the same volume is somehow off-putting to the recipient. Do people feel that the gratitude offered has to be on sliding scale and the second expression somehow has to be diminished so the recipient doesn’t think you are hitting on them, or just insane? If you omit the second thank you, do you feel a little bad as you walk thinking that maybe the person who held the door open for you two times in a row thinks you are a total prick?

What do you do when faced with two sets of doors and “Harry Helpful” holding them both open for you?

What would you do if there were three consecutive doors? Are there any buildings that have 15 consecutive doors?

How low can your voice get while still remaining audible?

Would you eventually write “Thank You” on a post-it note in smaller and smaller writing?

What if “Harry Helpful” was actually “Harriet Helpful” and for the life of you it is impossible to tell if that is a dude or a woman?

At the end of the day when everyone is leaving the building, why is there someone always rapidly walking back toward the building and why does someone inevitably say “Hey, you’re goin’ the wrong way! LOL! LOL! LOL! LOL! LOL!” as the rapid-walker mumbles an excuse about forgetting their keys?

These are the things I think about as I wander up the stairs toward cubicle town.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Urgent Questions: Volume XI

When Pluto got demoted from “ninth planet in the solar system” to “non-planet”, do you think Neptune gave it the finger every time they passed each other in orbit, or would Neptune be the kind of planet that would send flowers and be sympathetic? Actually I think Neptune realizes that it’s next if it doesn’t shape up, so it’s probably on its best behavior right now.

When dogs walk backwards, do you laugh at the sheer hilarity of it, or start walking backwards yourself because you are just that insecure?

If your friendly local milkman leaves two bottles of milk on your doorstep instead of one, would you run naked out of your house and whip him half to death with a Korean Death Reed, or would you finally admit that milkmen have no ready access to anthrax, and the fact that milk is white doesn’t automatically make it the same as “Death Powder from Al Qaeda”. Trust me; the judge will want you to admit that. He will also want you to wear some slacks and a nice oxford to the hearing.

If I opened a Chinese restaurant on Chinese New Year in the heart of Chinatown, would people gather around to chuckle at the perfect timing, or would they run in and order two helpings of “Happy Rainbow Dragon Family on Wisdom Pearl Circle”? That’s my signature dish, which is really just shrimp and vegetables like 90 percent of the menu.

If laughter is the best medicine, wouldn’t screaming be the worst medicine? If so, give me a double dose of sweet laughter, because all of your screaming is making me totally sick, man.

When squirrels suddenly stop in place and stand straight up alertly looking around, do you think they are doing that because they have sensitive earthquake-detecting feet and they know something you don’t?

If monkeys could fly, would pigs follow soon after, thereby making people all over the world do a bunch of things they never thought they would do, but definitely agreed to as long as either monkeys or pigs flew? I think the pigs and monkeys would team up, with monkeys riding on the pig’s backs, just to stick it to all those suckers who never thought either one would happen, much less both at the same time.

Have you ever thrown a stick for your dog, and then shrieked in terror when he came back with a human hand in his mouth? I don’t know why you were so surprised, that wasn’t a stick you threw for the dog; it was your Aunt Bobo.

If a snake slithered up to you and asked you for directions to the art museum, would you mock him for liking art, or would you shake his hand and offer him a cool glass of lemonade and a friendly smile? What do you mean, snakes don’t have hands? They don’t talk and go to art museums either, what’s your point?

Have you ever put “Deadly Karate” on a resume just to intimidate the hiring manager into giving you a job?

Does your girlfriend roll a Honda, playing workout tapes by Fonda? I don’t know if this is common knowledge or not, but Fonda does not have a motor in the back of her Honda; true story.

If you walk into a grocery store with a bear suit on, do you go right for the meat section to keep up appearances, or do you browse a little while, trying to appear like a casual bear?

If fifty-five sheep came barreling down a hill towards your house, would you be impressed at the fact that there are fifty-five sheep (in a group) in your suburban neighborhood, or would you piss your pants and secretly admit that your father was right all these years? The sheep are mobilizing, they have tripled in numbers, and they appear to be much more organized than they were in ’78.

If Johnny goes to the hardware store and buys five nails, and Lucy goes to the same hardware store and buys a hammer, and Billy goes to the same hardware store and buys six coils of rope, how long will it take before Lucy realizes that Johnny and Billy are gay and they probably don’t even find her attractive, even though she went out of her way to wear her best dress? What a waste!
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