LESSER CRIMES: MISCELLANEOUS STUPIDITY
Have you ever actually read one of the supermarket tabloids like the National Enquirer? If you read them for what they are, complete fiction, they can be really damn funny. It must be a riot to get all liquored up and sit down for a brainstorming session with the other writers.
“Oh, oh I’ve got it! ‘Jerry Falwell caught in love tryst with Yanni and Michael Bolton!’”
“No, c’mon, that might actually happen. We can do better. Think!”
“Throw in a big trout? No, a porpoise!”
“Almost there . . . ”
“A bulemic porpoise?”
“Yesssss. Now we’re cooking with Crisco!”
I think the editors give out gold stars to any writer whose story actually brings a lawsuit.
Anyway, I honestly don’t care if Madonna breast-feeds chimpanzees or that Brad Pitt braids his ass hair. I just find the creativity of the lies to be amusing.
I refuse to go shopping the day after Thanksgiving. In fact, I prefer to not even leave the house all day, just in case a pack of rabid bargain hunters comes down my street and throws money at me while making off with all my clothes.
Are these people for real? They get up at 2 am to go to Walmart with thousands of other sleep deprived, drooling, over-consumers and proceed to stomp each other into the earth over muppets and video games. We should pull a pre-emptive strike on these zombies: let ‘em into the store, then lock the doors and set fire to the building. You would actually be able to hear the IQ level of the country rise as the legions of the undead went up in flames.
Be smart. Shop on a Wednesday at 2pm when no one else is around. Thank you.
I am not a big fan of “prestige” items, like a Lexus or big honkin’ diamonds or Rolex watches, because they are basically signs of low self esteem. The only reason people own these kinds of things is to show the rest of the planet that they have “made it” in the big bad world. They are not impressed with themselves, so they have to try and impress everyone else. You know what I like to do? Ignore them. When they show up flashing that 2-carat rock or revving the engine on their new Hummer, I don’t even blink. They hate that.
Cloning humans has got to be one of the worst ideas the scientific world has ever come up with, right up there with splitting the atom and Spam sandwiches. The possibility for abuse here just boggles my mind. How long before we all can buy our very own Heidi Klum sex slaves, or ready-made menial laborers to mow the lawn? By the way, if you clone yourself and then have sex with the clone, is it considered incest or is it masturbation?
I can see cloning specific organs for rejection free transplants. That makes sense to me. But cloning an entire person is just bad news. It’s one of those things that scientists are trying to do just to see if it can be done, without ever considering the consequences. Kind of like banging Mike Tyson’s little sister. Sounds great at the time, but if she gets knocked up, you might as well check yourself into the nearest cemetery.
Anyway, I hope they decide to stop messing with it, because even I couldn’t resist a clone of Susan Sarandon, and I don’t want to have to face that moral dilemma.
I’m convinced that the people who buy Humvees need all that extra space to carry around their massive, bloated egos. It was either a Hummer or a dump truck. I guess they go with the Hummer because it gets less gas mileage.
Without getting into the right or wrong of the Iraq War (it’s wrong, by the way,) I just have to say that anyone who is willing to saw a human being’s head off with a large knife must not belong to the same species as the rest of us. Can I get a taxonomic ruling here? Maybe we could classify these cockknockers as Homo sapiens satanicus or maybe Homo terroristica assholus. They belong behind unbreakable glass in zoos, labeled as twisted offshoots of the human family tree. If these pricks are really rewarded by Allah in the afterlife, I’m going to ask the Angel’s Union to call a freakin’ Heaven-wide strike.
The U.S. military invented the canned food, Spam. Am I the only one scared shitless by this fact? Our military deals with thousands of dead bodies around the world, and they also came up with . . . Spam. Hell, we grind up dead cows to feed to other cows, so why not carry it to the next extreme? And have you noticed that we get involved in a war every ten years or so, just when we need to restock the country’s Spam supply. Think about it. I bet you won’t be able to sleep tonight.
Do you think the guys in the band N’SYNCH realize that they are male and, in theory, should have penises? I’ve been wondering about this since it became obvious to me that they didn’t have penises, or testicles, either. They don’t even have the little sacks that testicles live in. I’m not sure these guys know that they are different than other men. Their handlers at the record company must lie to them about it all the time. I’m starting to feel sorry for N’SYNCH.
Cats really enjoy peeing. They dig a perfect little hole in the cat litter, position themselves just so and close their eyes halfway while peeing. That must be great.
Dogs, on the other hand, whiz just a little bit on everything in sight. Maybe they enjoy it too, but they seem to be in a hurry. They have lots of squirting to do. They don’t take their time and really savor the moment. For dogs, it’s all about total acreage covered, rather than the quality of the whiz itself. Cats are much more refined than dogs.
The perfect place for an “accidental” napalm strike by the Air Force: Graceland. This has to be the largest collection of white trash memorabilia known to man. Why do people want to visit this shrine to all things rhinestone? Elvis lived there, not Jesus. Remember his music, not his jumpsuit. Let’s burn this fucking circus to the ground.
Next stop, Las Vegas.
Those of you who have studied any military history know that our government is about an inch away from reinstating the draft. We’re fighting a war against guerillas that will not surrender to our incredible technology, ever. Just like some other guerillas about 35 years ago. We can’t win this conflict unless we institute a scorched-earth policy, and we can’t do that because the rest of the world would, rightly, join the fight against us. So it’s either pull out or occupy indefinitely. The latter option means the draft.
I am 100% behind our soldiers and 0% behind our government when it comes to Iraq. We shouldn’t be there, but our soldiers certainly aren’t to blame for that. And, you know, if Bush does implement the draft, it might end the war faster, because this nation will go up in flames. Those draft protests of the 60′s will look like grade school field trips by comparison.
Sorry, nothing humorous here, just a sobering comment.
Here’s something we don’t think about much. Bars are actually drugstores. The only difference between a bar and an opium den or a crack house is that alcohol is legal. Every town in the country has multiple dealers selling alcohol fixes to addicts, and unlike the users of many other drugs these addicts regularly leave the drug den and kill themselves and/or others before they make it home.
I realize we tried to ban alcohol around 80 years ago, and that just produced a whole new type of criminal activity and allowed the Mob to become even more wealthy and powerful. American’s have always been quick to jump on a new opportunity, and shit, screw the moralist teetotalers anyway, right? In a way, it’s kind of reassuring to know that there is something that our government simply can’t control. They can tax the fuck out of it, but they can’t control it. Sweet.
Since we’re speaking of government control here, I should mention UFOs again. If UFOs really exist, our government would never dare to admit it because it would also be an admission that they have no control over the phenomenon. That makes politicians really itchy. They think that such an admission would cause a panic in the populace, because they are under the impression that we still have faith in them. Well, ththtpphththhtt. Pardon my insubordination, senators, but if there really are aliens that want to land in the U.S., there is no way you spineless turds can stop them. You can’t even stop the aliens that swim the Rio Grande into Texas, for Christ’s sake. Your appearance of competence went up in smoke a long, long time ago, so why don’t you try a little honesty instead? The word is in the dictionary if you need to look it up.
Why are people so afraid of masturbation? Just the word freaks people out. Even me. It’s a conditioned response, I guess. We’ve been told that it’s wrong for so long, we react automatically, even when we know, logically, that there is nothing wrong with it.
Anyway, in order to help with the embarrassment problem, I’ve compiled a list of phrases that can be used in place of “masturbation,” for both men and women.
For men: spanking the monkey, waxing your carrot, beating your meat, punching the pope, polishing your knob, slapping your little brother, climbing the redwood, tossing off, whacking your willy, spiking your balls, shifting into overdrive, pulling for pleasure, tugging Tojo, beating the hell out of your best friend, choking the chicken, playing pocket-pool, boxing the dictator, stroking off, yanking your shank, raising the vampire, changing your oil, jacking your beanstalk, firing one off for the Gipper, jerking off, dating Rosy Palm, working out with chubby, draining the dragon, walking the dog, rebooting your tower, swinging on the vine of life and squeezing the weasel.
For women: stroking the beaver, finding the little man in the canoe, making the kitten purr, spelunking, drowning Mona, stirring the honey pot, adjusting your flaps, skindiving, juicing a peach, making a rubbing, dialing the hair phone to God, giving yourself the finger, watering the flower, riding the O-train and bush dancing.
I can’t help it. I think Christina Aguilera is gorgeous. I know, I know, most people would not have guessed that I would be attracted to her. I don’t know what it is, but I just want to leave teeth marks all over her ass. I do think she has a fantastic voice, even though I don’t dig the kind of music she makes. I think maybe part of the attraction is her “Fuck you!” attitude, you know? I like rebels. I also like the fact that she is not afraid of being sexual, unlike most uptight Americans. She is what she is, and doesn’t care what you think.
I’m not attracted to Britney Spears at all. She strikes me as being in the music business for the fame, not for the joy of singing. And she has terrible taste in men. That guy she married is a giant trouser-snake.
Anyhow, that’s my opinion.
I have no desire to leave planet earth. Many people would jump at the opportunity to go up in the shuttle or to visit a base on the moon, should we construct such a place. Not me. I like it here with the trees and oceans and lots of dirt to play in. Besides, I don’t even trust people driving cars, so I certainly won’t trust a shuttle pilot to land my ass on the moon. I’d rather die on terra firma than burn up on accidental reentry or have my balls explode in the vacuum of space.
I mean, space is wondrous and captivating, but I think it should stay that way. I don’t wanna go there. Sending probes to Mars and other planets is cool, as long as I can get the info they provide beamed right into my home, where there are oxygen and gravity and chicken wings. But then, I’ve always been a digger. My degree is in archaeology, so I naturally look inward rather than outward. I like nice, warm holes in the ground. Maybe I’m part Hobbit.
Man, I used to be a video game maniac. I was right there on it when Pac-Man first came out. I’m not going to talk much about Pong, that piss-poor tennis game that came out in the 1970′s. (In fact, I’d like to delete that memory from my hard-drive.) But, Defender, Asteroids, Dig Doug, Q-bert, I loved them all. But none more than Donkey Kong. I was the Kong King. The absurdity of it made it incredibly appealing to me. A giant ape stole my princess girlfriend and was tossing beer barrels at me as I tried to rescue her. Huh? Whatever. I loved it.
Then the later generation games came along. Zaxxon, Galaga, Mario Brothers, Xevious. Mario Brothers was just as surreal as Donkey Kong, with turtles and little icebergs chasing the mustachioed ones around a frozen tableau. Fuckin’ A. I wasn’t as good at that one, even after 12,000 hours and an equal number of quarters spent.
Now we have the modern first person shooter games, all of them as addictive as crack. I love blowing the hell out of gross zombies with a huge freaking shotgun. Who doesn’t? Zombies are such a pain in the ass, always breaking in, eating your friends and smelling the place up. They deserve to be toasted with molotav cocktails and run over with tanks.
These critics who say video games are too violent need to shut up. It’s pure fantasy, and today’s teens understand this. Shit, when I was a kid we could buy an arsenal of plastic guns that looked just like the real things. We played “war” endlessly, and never actually hurt each other, at least not intentionally. Some people really need to mellow out. Besides, when was the last time an army of real zombies stomped down your street?