Monthly Archives: June 2011

Gotta Get Lost To Get Found

*  I saw a bumper sticker: I BREAK FOR JESUS. What does that mean? You run over everybody else? Look! There’s The Buddha! When you see the Buddha, run over the Buddha!

*  I read LSD can help cure alcoholism. Great, so now instead of drunk drivers, you have drivers swerving off the road to avoid dragons.

*  I’ve had to take a lot of jobs as a waiter. I got fired from Famous People’s Players. Apparently I wasn’t retarded enough.

*  Maybe hell isn’t all fire and brimstone, but a bunch of people standing around waiting for their dates to arrive.

*  Dog is man’s best friend. Says a lot about man that he needs to keep his best friend on such a short leash.

*  I will never use the term: ‘peter out’, like a guy named Frank should never have to ask to be frank with you. But, I’ll be frank, and Frank will peter out. We are what we’re not.

*  Was Lot’s wife worth her weight in salt? He kept her in an urn with holes at the top. She was great on eggs.

*  My girlfriend is always giving me hints that I’m not holding up my end in the bedroom, like, for my birthday she gave me the Kama Sutra For Dummies.

*  “That’s me in the corner, losing my virginity.” Early R.E.M draft.

*  My new mantra: gotta get lost to get found.

A Treadmill Takes You No Where Fast

“If you don’t start exercising, you are going to die.”

Ted chases his doctor’s words away with another order of Chinese food for four. Ted can’t imagine ever exercising; it is painfully exhausting. Death he knows is far less painful then getting on his treadmill. Then Ted remembers he is rich and decides to pay someone to run for him.

Ted goes online to look into hiring a professional runner. He googles: runners for hire. He calls the first number at the top of the page.

“Hello, Bob’s Runners. This is Bob.”

“Hi. I’m looking to hire someone to run on my treadmill while I sit and watch tv,” Ted said.

“Oh. We usually enter corporate races, we don’t usually get hired to run on treadmills.”

“I’ll pay you $1000 an hour.”

“I’ll run right over, where do you live?”

Bob is not at all how Ted had imagined a professional runner would look. For starters, Bob is almost as big as Ted. Let’s not mince words here, Bob is one fat runner.

“I’m paying you to run all day, you know. I said on the phone I’ll pay you to run next to me while I watch tv. I watch a lot of tv, like all day and night. Do you really think you can keep up running all that time?” Ted asks Bob.

“You’re paying $1000 an hour, right?” Bob checks.

“Yes,” Ted says, unconvinced he’ll ever have to pay this man anything.

“Then I’ll run as long as you like. Is this the treadmill here? Should I get right to work?”

Ted shakes his head, “Sure,” he says, curious to see how much the fat guy’s got in him. Ted sits down on the couch, parallel to the treadmill, both facing the tv, so Ted can see Bob running out the corner of his eye. Ted grabs the remote and fires it at the screen, surfing for something good, or something naked, whichever comes first. Ted likes to be surprised.

After sifting through the 500 channels Ted has available, he looks over at Bob running,  seeing him drenched in thick sweat, dripping like gravy off his body. Bob’s head is tilted to his left side, his left arm dangling off his body, foam coming out his mouth. Bob looks like he is suffering from a stroke.

“You know, that’s pretty good. You quit now, I’ll pay you for the hour and throw in another hour’s bonus.” Ted wants to buy out Bob, afraid that the man might drop dead on his living room floor. Bob does his best to grimace a smile, holding his right thumb up. “You sure you wanna keep going? You’re already $2000 up, that’s a pretty good day’s work for anybody.” Bob shakes his head, continuing with his labored running, leaning heavily on the left side of his body, panting like a mad dehydrated dog.

After two more hours, Ted has stopped watching tv and is sitting on the couch, eating a bag of heavily buttered popcorn, watching Bob keep his steady pace on the treadmill. Though the man’s eyes are practically shut, and he is awkwardly contorted to the left side, still his legs keep plodding along, thump thump thump thump against the treadmill.

Ted wants to ratchet up the drama, so he turns up the pace on the machine; Bob runs faster to keep up with the moving rubber beneath his feet.

“How are you able to do that?!” Ted screams at him.

“I… need… money…” Bob wheezes, slumped forward now, willing his legs to move.

“Is money the only thing stopping me from being healthy? Then I’ll buy my health! Stop running! I’m giving you all my money!” Ted shouts; Bob falls off the treadmill. He is filled with such adrenaline and endorphins that he is not sure if he hallucinating. “I will give you all my money and house and everything and I’ll move in to your place on the condition you pay me $1000 an hour to run. Deal?”

“Deal,” Bob mumbles lying on his back, seeing stars.

One year later, Bob is still waiting for Ted to come and get to work, the treadmill has sat idle the whole time. Ted, for his part, has grown accustomed to living in Bob’s basement apartment, eating beans straight out of the can, too lazy to get up and plug in the microwave.

Even Benjamin Franklin Can’t Change Anything

‘Oh sure, they all think they want me, and lots of me, but, what do they do as soon as they get me? They give me to somebody else who then gives me to somebody else and on and on it goes. Just as I’m getting comfortable in the pocket of someone, just as I’m getting to know them, ka-ching! I’m taken out of someone’s wallet and put into someone else’s. No body wants me, not the real me, everybody wants the idea of me. Everybody wants to be rich by having lots of me, but, alone, I don’t make anybody rich. I hate my life,’ lamented the bitter little five dollar bill.

‘At least I’m not a dime, or a penny. Pennies are so unwanted, people don’t even stop to pick them up any more. I hear there’s talk of getting rid of pennies all together,‘ the little five dollar bill shivered, knowing it was just a matter of time before there would be whispers of getting rid of him, too.

‘Time is money,’ thought the money ironically, knowing time was way more expensive.

“Hey, how you doing?” asked the one dollar bill that had been slipped in next to the little five dollar bill.

The little five dollar bill knew enough not to make friends with any of the other bills and change that he rubbed up against. Time was too temporary to bother. A fool and his money are soon separated. The little five dollar bill knew he was no fool. He knew time and friendship are as significant as he makes them. He knew he would avoid the pain of loss by never having anything.

“Hey, what? You don’t talk? What’s your damage? Don’t you know we’re the same?” The dollar bill didn’t take silence as answer.

“We are not the same. I’m a five dollar bill, you’re just a one. I’m worth five times you.”

The dollar bill laughed in his face. “Says who?”

“Says right there on our bodies. Mine says five yours says one. Do the math.”

“Don’t you know we’re useless? You, me, even the one that looks like Benjamin Franklin. Alone, we’re useless. But, together, we can change the world.”

The little five dollar bill knew he was right, but, that didn’t mean he had to agree with him. “Screw you,” the little five dollar bill said, returning to his existence of self-absorption.

The Book of Genesis: The Soap Opera! (Episode 8)

Announcer:  When we last left off, (June 6) Mr. Satan, had kissed Eve, and proposed to be her children’s devilfather. We pick up where we left off, in the office of Mr. Satan, CEO of Eden Inc.

Eve:  If I make you devilfather, I want a contract, something that says you will continue to provide for my children no matter what happens to me.

Mr. Satan:  Sounds like fun. I’ll make it out in triplicate so we can have the joy of signing it three times.

Eve:  I don’t want any loopholes, like you giving us healthcare, but we have to pay for the medicine.

Mr. Satan:  Triplicate’s air-tight, baby. And each new contract comes with its own piggybank made out of real live pigs.

[Enter Adam]

Adam:  I just rode a dinosaur!

Mr. Satan:  You’re the man. You’re so the man, there’s no other man to challenge you as the man.

Adam:  That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever done!

Eve:  Cooler than getting me pregnant?

Adam:  Way cooler, hon. Riding down the back of that brontosaurus was unreal. Riding down your back was… I can’t believe I rode a dinosaur! Hey! What happened to your lip?

Eve:  What lip?

Adam:  Your lower lip, it’s all swollen. Did you get botox injections?

Eve:  No, I bit it.

Adam:  Why’d you bite your lip?

Eve:  I was nervous about you riding that dinosaur. Don’t do that again, you practically made me chew my face off.

Adam:  Oh, hon, looks like you need more of Lucy’s little heaven in a pill.

Eve:  Yeah, can I have another?

Mr. Satan:  Catch.  [Mr. Satan tosses a fresh pill right into Eve’s open mouth.]

Adam:  How bout one over here?

Mr. Satan:  You still haven’t paid for the last ones.

Adam:  What do I owe you?

Mr. Satan:  I’ll tell you later, I’m just reminding you. Here.  [Mr. Satan throws a pill straight into Adam’s mouth.]  Go to heaven.

[Enter God.]

God:  I came back for my stapler.

Mr. Satan:  You knock! You don’t have the right to just march in any time you want! This is my office now!

God:  Yeah, but, it’s my stapler and I really need it. I’m finishing the stars. There’s still a lot of blackholes I’ve got to fill in and I’m out of glue.

Mr. Satan:  Here!  [Mr. Satan throws the stapler at God. God deftly dodges to avoid the stapler.]

God:  You broke it!

Mr. Satan:  Suck on it! Get out of here! You wanna show up here? Next time, make an appointment!

Eve:  My water broke!

Adam:  Jeez, Eve, look what you did to the carpet! That’s pure unicorn!

Eve:  The babies are coming!

Adam:  Babies? How many you got in there?

Eve:  I think we’re about to find out!

[Eve lies down. Adam circles around her, nervously.]

Adam:  Help her, dad!

God:  I’ve got to fix my stapler.  [God turns his back on his son, playing with his broken stapler.]

Adam:  Lucy, any ideas?

Mr. Satan:  When in doubt, take more pills, that’s my motto.

Eve:  Please! The pain!

God:  It didn’t have to hurt, but you made a deal with the devil, so, enjoy childbirth.  [Exit God.]

Mr. Satan:  Here, let Mr. Sunshine take all the bad pain away.  [Mr. Satan gives Eve a pill.]

Eve:  Wow! That’s amazing! Childbirth just went from excruciating to exhilarating!

Mr. Satan:  I think I see a head.

Eve:  I think I see a dragon.

Mr. Satan:  You want me to get your babies?

Eve:  If you don’t mind. I’m too busy chasing dragons away.

Mr. Satan:  Before I get to work, sign here.  [Mr. Satan hands Eve a contract and a pen. Eve scribbles her signature.]  And here. And here . [Mr. Satan waits for Eve to finish signing before starting with the delivery.]  Ok, babies, come to your devilfather.

Adam:  Devilfather? What do you mean by that?

Mr. Satan:  Read the contract. It says so very clearly: with babies it is a case of finders keepers losers weepers. I was the first to see his head, by rights, this child is mine.

Adam:  Oh, hell on earth, Eve, what have you done?

Announcer:  Yes, what the hell on earth has Eve done? And how will her children take to their devilfather? Find out in the next episode of The Book of Genesis: The Soap Opera!

Ruins and Bruises

Ruins and bruises

scratches and scars

ruins and bruises

are just like the stars.

Their light shines from forever

even extinguished we see

their light shines from forever

can be killed by a lamp in the city.

This tattooed landscape

cut by centuries

this tattooed landscape

lost in the weeds.

Broken Acropolis

a dusty memory

this broken Acropolis

was once the Glory of Greece.

I Have a Wonderful Wife and Three Alright Children

The following is from a personal column posted on Ashley Madison dating website. Ashley Madison is an agency set up to hook up married people who are looking to cheat. Its slogan: Life is Short. Have an affair.

I’ve been happily married for two years and unhappily married for five. I am 5′ 1”, 235 lbs. People say I look like Marlon Brando in Superman. I’m 31 years old. I have a great job and three alright children. As a whole they are alright, but my youngest daughter carries the other two. My son and other daughter have been so damaged by their mother, that I can’t even look at them. I’m looking for someone who can make me forget I’m a father of two losers. All they know is video games, and they’re not even good at them, seeing as I beat them all the time. I’m looking for someone who maybe wants to vent about their failures of children and parenting, though, I blame the children more than the parenting. I enjoy opera and dressing up as Wagnerian characters and fucking. Let me show you my version of The Ride of the Valkyries. Don’t worry, I’ll supply the saddle and the horse. If interested, please contact…

Crack Babies In A Womb

John:  So, do you think we get more cwack?

Jim:  We better, he’s really jonsing.  [Jim points at his brother, Edgar, who is near catatonic, drooling out both sides of his mouth.]

John: Wow, a lot of excitement outside, what do you think mom’s doing?

Jim:  I don’t know, but that bald one eyed kid is back.

John:  The bawd one eyed kid is aways twying to get in.

Jim:  No, he’s leaving already. Oh, he’s back. He can’t make up his mind if he’s coming or going.

John:  He pwababwy can’t see too good.

Jim:  Stupid bald one eyed kid.

John:  Hey! Stupid bawd one eyed kid, get wost! No womb!

Jim:  Oh look, he’s crying again. He’ll leave now.

John:  Good widdance.

Jim:  Oh! Oh! Here comes the crack!

John:  Oh! That’s so good!

Jim:  Hey, stop hogging it all, Edgar! [Jim ties Edgar’s umbilical cord in a knot. Edgar starts turning blue.]

John:  What? That’s it?

Jim:  Give a kick for more.  [They kick.]  Guess that’s it. Wanna make a break for it?

John:  Mean go outside?

Jim:  That’s where the crack is.

John:  I wuv cwack.

Jim:  Me too, let’s go.

John:  Oh, wook, the stupid bawd one eyed kid’s back. He’s dwessed up in a tuwtweneck.

Jim:  It’s probably cold out.

John:  Get out of the way stupid bawd one eyed kid.

Jim:  We should follow him; he probably knows the ins and outs of this place. Look, he’s gone, we should follow.

John:  What about Edgar? Ouch! The stupid bawd one eyed kid poked me in the face!

Jim:  He’s gone again, follow!

[Exit John and Jim.]

Edgar:  More crack for me!


Private Eye Priest

Announcer:  He was just a regular priest, till he got the call.

[Telephone rings.]

Priest:  Hello?

God:  Father Flattery?

Priest:  Who is this?

God:  This is God. I have a job for you.

Priest:  I already work for you.

God:  I want you to find the men who killed my son.

Announcer:  From that day on he was Private Eye Priest, on a crusade to bring the murderers to justice!

[Private Eye Priest has suspect sitting in a wooden chair beneath a hot lamp.]

Priest:  Ok, Judas, fess up. You turned turncoat and sold him out for a few measly pieces of silver.

Judas:  Do you know what silver is worth these days?

Priest:  You gave him a kiss and gave him away.

Judas:  I loved him.

Priest:  And you knew you could never have him, so you had him killed.

Judas:  You’ve got nothing on me.

Priest[Opening Bible.]  I’ve got it all right here. Tell me what do you know about Matthew 26: 48?  Where were you on the night of April 6, Year 33?

Judas:  I was at a dinner party with some friends. There was lots of wine, Jesus is always so generous, so I don’t remember so well.

Priest:  I have the sworn written testimony of four eye witnesses: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John that you sold him out.

Judas:  You’ll never take me alive!  [Judas draws gun, fires. The hand of God reaches down and catches the bullet giving Private Eye Priest time to disarm and handcuff Judas.]

Priest:  Thanks, man!

Announcer:  Yes, Private Eye Priest, with his trusty sidekick, God, are one hell of a team!

Tickle Me Retarded

Pam:  Hello, boys and girls! and welcome to Tickletown! Today on the show we’re going to go on all sorts of adventures, and learn how to count to three, and maybe get a visit from a surprise guest or two! Oh! Here’s one now! Hello there, Mr. Platypus! How are you today?

Mr. Platypus:  Hello, Pam! Not so good, that’s why I came to Tickletown. I need you to tickle me until you make all the monsters in my head go away.

Pam:  Well, lie down on Sofie Sofa and let’s diagnose you.

Sofie Sofa:  Sit down, big boy and tell us all your wildest fantasies!

Mr. Platypus:  If you don’t mind, Pam, I’ve already got enough to deal with, it’s hard enough to tell you without having to sit on a talking couch.

Pam:  Fine, we can diagnose you standing up. Tell us, what do you feel is your biggest problem?

Mr. Platypus:  I have monsters in my head.

Pam:  What monsters? What do they look like?

Mr. Platypus:  Like monsters, what you don’t know what monsters look like? You can’t tell a monster from a squirrel?

Pam:  Can you tell us a little bit about the monsters?

Mr. Platypus:  They look freakish, like monsters. They have the face of a duck. the body of a beaver, and the feet of a duck. Terrifying.

Pam:  You’re describing yourself, Mr. Platypus.

Mr. Platypus:  But, I’m a platypus! I said they have the face of a duck.

Pam:  You have a face of a duck.

Mr. Platypus:  You think I have a duck face?

Pam:  Have you looked in a mirror lately?

Mr. Platypus:  I just see me.

Pam:  But, are you seeing the real you, or, just the you you want to see?

Mr. Platypus:  Looks like the real me to me.

Pam [Holding up mirror]  Describe what you see.

Mr. Platypus:  One good looking platypus.  [Mr. Platypus smiles for the first time all day.]

Pam:  Describe your nose.

Mr. Platypus:  I don’t have a nose, I have a bill.

Pam:  Describe your feet.

Mr. Platypus:  I don’t have feet, I have webbing.

Pam:  Webbing, a bill, you’re describing a duck.

Mr. Platypus:  Are you saying, if it walks like a duck, and talks like a duck, I’m a platypus?

Pam:  Yes! And you’re your own worst nightmare!

Mr. Platypus:  I am? I’m cured! Thanks, Pam!  [Exit Mr. Platypus.]

Pam:  Yes, and let that be a lesson to all you boys and girls out there: you are your own monster! Oh! And speaking of monsters, if it isn’t Mr. The End!

History Is What You Make It

*  Paul Revere rollerbladed through Boston wearing a sandwich board warning the British were coming. THE BRITISH ARE COMING, it said one one side, and, DRINK SAM ADAMS BEER on the other.

*  The Wright Brothers invented Olympic ski jumping. Orville placed first, Wilber, second in the 1903 Olympics in Kittyhawk, North Carolina.

*  Julius Caesar’s final words were: “Make me a salad!”

*  Boston Red Sox fans assassinated John F. Kennedy, in a bid to break the curse of the Bambino.

*  Gandhi used to sneak jello pudding pops during his ‘hunger strikes’.

*  John Lennon is the love child of V.I. Lenin and he just changed his name out of embarrassment. ‘Back In The U.S.S.R,’ and ‘Everybody’s Got Something to Hide Except For Me and My Monkey,’ are both about his dad. And if you play ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand’ backwards you can hear John reading from The Communist Manifesto.

*  Napoleon invented strawberry ice cream, declared it the greatest flavor ever, put it next to chocolate and vanilla and started taking over other countries to do taste tests.

*  Peter the Great was only Peter the So So to his wife and mistresses.

*  Elizabeth I, The Virgin Queen, was the biggest slut to take the throne since Richard The Horny, in 1342.

*  Julius Caesar gave us, July, Augustus gave us, August, and The Marquis de Sade gave us January and February.

*  Australia was colonized by English convicts.