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Medical Breakthrough!
02/18/10
First prostitute: I'm getting tired of this line of work.
Second prostitute: Me too, but I can't get away from my pimp. Too bad I'm not a diabetic.
First prostitute: What does being a diabetic have to do with it?
Second prostitute: Well, this morning on television I saw a commercial that said diabetics can get a little electronic device that eliminates the need to finger pricks.
First prostitute: You are an incredible retard.
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If Hillary is ever elected President:
1/30/10
Hillary keeps Bill's balls in her purse, as you know. She ordered him to hand them over on their wedding day. Well, I just had an awful vision of what will happen if she ever becomes President.
Hillary's first Executive Order:
Hillary: OK guys, hand them over.
America's Men: Awwww!
Hillary: Now!
America's Men: (glumly) OK, here. (millions of men reach into their pants and hand them over)
Hillary (to an aide): Put them with Bill’s.
But then, there will be a few of us who will refuse to give them up. We'll make bumper stickers that say things like "I will give up my balls when they pry my cold dead fingers from around them" and "Fear the government that fears your balls" and "When balls are outlawed, only Hillary will have balls".
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On Opera
10/31/09
I don't listen to the radio very often, but when I do, it's sometimes the public radio channel. The other day I turned it on, only to find they were playing an opera. I quickly turned it back off with a shudder - my usual reaction to opera. For some reason, though, I started wondering at my deep seated distaste for opera. My ruminations led me into realms of thought that troubled me deeply, and trouble me still.
Consider!
*Opera - Oprah
*Oprah - Comes on television the same time of day as soap operas.
*Opera - Fat lady
*Oprah - Fat lady
A lot of coincidences there...but are they really coincidences? Deep in the darkest part of my being, I fear there is some malign meaning, some cursed conspiracy behind this, the purpose of which I know not...
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Always Take Off Your Hat
10/16/09
This morning I shat
While wearing a hat,
And somehow became all confused.
For to my dismay,
My hat flushed away,
On my head was the paper I used.
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A Whiz-Bang Good Time
10/16/09
We all know how good it feels after taking a really big dump. The relief we feel after of ridding ourselves of a really large load is a pleasure in itself, but we men get an extra bit of Wahoo! because our prostates get a really good nudge from the exiting mass. However, there is another bodily function which I think, though I have no data on this, is just as pleasurable for women - and that is taking a frantic piss after being compelled by circumstances to hold it in until it's Piss Or Die. You know what I'm talking about. As you loose the Yellow River, you find yourself closing your eyes and doing the Stevie Wonder Head Sway...complete with the Big Stevie Wonder Smile. Some of you may even sing, though I don't myself.
OK, that's all.
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Afternoon Peace
10/16/09
The bills are paid
The chores are done
No one here to call me "Hon"
And pout and cry
And bitch and whine
And wanting to have cheese and wine.
HOOOCKKK-PTUIII!
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Argo Prayer
10/16/09
Argo Cornstarch, pure and white
Relieve my sweaty nuts tonight
Keep them dry and free of fungus
So there will be joy among us
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07/02/09
Colonic Irrigation
Of all the threats we face today
Undermining U.S.A.
The greatest danger to our nation
Is co-lon-ic irrigation
In what twisted land arose
The act of using pipe or hose
To flush away this morning's toast?
The idea came east from the coast
In the land of fruits and nuts
People there shove pipes up butts.
They love it. They will even pay!
You guessed it - Cal-i-forn-i-ay
They flush away the sluggish mass
That's nestled snugly in their ass
Instead of letting Nature run
It's course. They even think it's fun!
So let's unite against this scourge
And fight those who tell us the urge
To drop the kids off at the pool
Is the act of cad and fool
We must act now - it is our duty
To outlaw hoses up the pooty
And pre-serve for posterity
Good solid turds - proud, strong, and free.
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4/17/09
Phaser Design
I got to wondering about something while watching Star Trek this morning. I saw, once again, where Kirk orders the landing party, "Set phasers on stun!". It's always "Stun" or "Kill". Nothing else. You'd think that with their advanced technology, there would be more options. If designing phaser settings was up to me, I'd create ones like "Spank!" or "Bitch Slap!". Or how about "Tittie Twister!":
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Klingon commander: Enterprise! Surrender immediately or be destroyed!
Captain Kirk (whispering to Mr Sulu): Set...phasers...on...Titttie Twister! Wide...beam.
Mr Sulu: OOOOHHH! I mean, Aye, Captain!
Klingon Commander: Enterprise! Your time is up! Reply immediately!
Captain Kirk: Here...is...your...answer. Fire..................phasers!
Klingon commander and crew: AIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!!
***
I'd bet that if he could, Mr Scott would create a setting himself - "Set phasers on Blow Job!" - then point it at his crank. I know I would. Point it at MY crank, that is.
If you've ever watched that pussified "Star Trek The Next Generation" (A kinder, gentler Star Trek? Ptooie!), you've seen that girly-boy Wesley Crusher. What a dweeb. I can see it now - his mother catches him in his room with his pants around his ankles and his phaser set on "Anal Rape". Shit - she would probably join in too. That would be OK, though.
Anyway, I was just wondering...
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3/26/09
Cornstarch And Me
When my crotch is raw and wet
From Summer's rashes caused by sweat
And ass cheeks, crank, and nuts are rusting,
I give my shorts a cornstarch dusting
But "dusting" is too weak a word
Like saying "poo" instead of "turd".
I lay the starch on with a trowel
(It's messy - I stand on a towel).
I wipe my hands, put on my pants
And pose a moment (Manly Stance).
And then I proudly stride the halls
With my freshly powdered balls.
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03/14/09
Gunsmoke Revisited
Miss Kitty showed her titties in the bar one Friday night
Festus took a look and said, "Them's nice!" then took a bite
But Matt Dillon wasn't willin' to be sharing Kitty's tits
So Matt called out to Festus, "Come on boy! Put up your mitts!"
Festus said, "I reckon," while he squinted like he does
"that I can fondle Kitty - after all, she is my cuz."
"But if you thank ol' Festus is afeared of your six shooter"
"you got another thang a-comin'." - then rammed his crank up Dillon's pooter.
If you want to know what happens next, just tune back in next week
We leave Dodge City now with Festus' crank way up shit creek
Kitty is a poutin' and old Festus is a grinnin'
Kitty says, "I've had enough. I think I'll stick to women."
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03/10/09
Be Alert!
Just a reminder that we can never know all that's happing in this world - or under it. Imagine! Under our very feet it could be that little Nazi TurdSubs are skulking silently through the sewers, ready to attack. You've seen submarines broach in movies....imagine a turd broaching in the crapper just after you sit down. It could shoot a little TurdTorpedo or InterColonental Ballistic Turd (ICBT) up your bum.
Turd Sub classes:
Fast Attack Turds (FAT)
Ballistic Turd Turds (BTT, or Bee-Tee-squared)
Deep Sewer Research Turds (DSRT)
COMING SOON TO A THEATER NEAR YOU! IT'S "THE HUNT FOR BROWN OCTOBER"!
Follow the adventures of the brave Turdmariners as they dare the Bunghole Straits!
"I shit all over myself!" - Cess Poole (Hooterville World Guardian)
"Undt me also!" - Grunter VonFloater (Berlin Daily BM)
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03/06/09
The Aural Horror
It is a Friday morning in early March. The sun is shining, the temperature unseasonably warm. For those who dwell in the world of light and hope, Spring brings new life and promises the lifting of Winter's grey veil. I once knew such uplifting feelings, but Alas! no more. No more peace for this poor soul. Please try to understand and forgive this wrecked and shattered shell of a man for relating to you the barest outlines of the Horror which, only a few minutes ago, destroyed forever any hope I had of living out my years in any semblance of happiness. I shall never laugh nor love nor hope again.
It began innocently enough this very morning. I awakened after a peaceful and dreamless sleep, ready for the promise of a new day. I poured my customary glass of cold sweet tea and put coffee on to brew. While imbibing those delicious and wholesome beverages, I detected the faintest of rumblings which presaged the shocking event that has changed - nay, destroyed - my poor life forever. I tried to ignore these sinister Hints Of Horror, but I soon realized the full scope of my situation - I had to take a shit. Now, gentle reader, that in itself is not what transformed me into that twisted caricature that I have become, for I have taken many a shit with no ill effect. Little did I know, though, that this one would be The Dump Of The Damned.
Pray be patient with me, Reader, while I struggle to regain my composure. I know that I am placing an undue strain on your patience, but please, in the name of all that is Holy, summon your inner strength to endure not only my imposition on your time and credulity, but more so the Horror that I shall now relate.....
It happened while I was wiping my ass. I was in that semi-dream world which one drifts into while performing mundane tasks which are - normally - routine and unexciting. Then, I perceived a sudden and strong itching in my right ear while I was taking the first swipe at the odious mass clogging my ass cheeks. I finished this first pass, discarded the once pure white and clean tissue from my 1000 sheet roll of Scott's finest, then unthinkingly jammed my right index finger into my ear and rotated it rapidly clockwise and anticlockwise to assuage the insistent itch. Even while my digit was probing the inner recesses of mine ear, the shocking realization came to me - I DID NOT FIRST CHECK TO SEE IF THERE WAS ANY SHIT ON MY FINGER!
Reader, Gentle Reader, please PLEASE understand that it is not my wish to drag you into that dark, sunless world which I now inhabit and shall inhabit for the rest of my broken, nay, shattered life. I relate this Tale Of Terror to you in a pitiful attempt to attenuate to some degree the Darkness in which I now live. Now, I must summon the courage to finish this accounting of my End Of Days.
After the mind numbing realization that I might have smeared shit in my ear, I frantically clutched another wad of Scott's and attempted to remove any possible aural shit. I formed the paper into a suitable shape and jammed it into that doomed ear, twisting and turning the Instrument Of Cleansing in my mad (for I think I was mad by then) and futile attempt to check my screaming plunge into the Abyss. Upon withdrawal of the paper probe, I perceived a small amount of some odious brown matter on it. My mind reeled! My reason tottered! Was it shit, or merely ear wax?!?
I must stop once again, Reader, to overcome the revulsion that I, and no doubt you, are feeling.....
Now to bring my tale to an end - for this is the end of any hope I might have had for a productive and satisfying existence on this good and green Earth. You see, I could not bring myself to subject that brown matter to a sniff test - the risk was too great that it was shit after all, and if it was, my emotional destruction would have been assured. I hurriedly discarded the paper, then consigned it and my morning turd to the deep.
I shall sign off now. The tale is told. The lid is down. Shit or ear wax? I shall never know......
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