Monday, September 3, 2007
Swallow too much Cool Mint Scope.
Shave with a bowie knife.
Shower sex without the grippy non-slip rubber pad on the bathtub.
Perch a toaster beside your lavender and rose petal bubble bath.
Spit on Jesse James' cowboy boots.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody hell. Has this
Who does this lad think he is taking a soldering iron to something that cost his entire summer’s worth of busboy wages?
Leave the inventing to the inventors, especially those working for faceless corporations with greedy stockholders.
Of course, you can’t forget the aesthetic aspect. Growing up in the gloomy, overcast, emerald paradise of
As a Scotsman and an AT&T man I say this: Shame on you.
Because you, New Jersey lad, have single-handedly caused both the Apple and AT&T clans serious anguish—by sticking your soldering iron up their corporate kilts.
Monday, August 20, 2007
10. Susan B. Anthony.
Turns out she had a few too many “youthful transgressions” with schoolboys in the barn.
9. J. R. R. Tolkien.
Inventing the modern fantasy novel had its downside: legions of “dreamers.” Not the easiest people to call to action in the tough fight for world peace.
8. Charles Lindberg
7. Harry Truman.
Shouldn’t have dropped the bomb, Harry. Ushering in the nuclear age cost him big time.
By befriending Lewis and Clark she single-handedly set the stage for later massacres of thousands of Native Americans.
5. President George Washington
Killed more than his fair share of Native Americans.
4. President Andrew Jackson
Killed way, way, way more than his fair share of Native Americans.
3. Andrew Carnegie
No, funding thousands of libraries doesn't mean you're not a Robber Baron.
He and Jack Daniels toast each other every night by the lake of fire."And a good time was had by all." That is if you mean drunk driving, accidental pregancies, regrettable hookups, vomiting, and regrettable hookups while drunk driving. Although God does like a good glass of Scotch now and again.
1. Ray Kroc.
Yes, the founder of McDonald’s. But think about this—fast food and heart attacks have killed way more people than Hitler.
Monday, August 6, 2007
When I played with Hank Aaron in the Negro Leagues, I tell you how we did it. Bacon, eggs and steak. For breakfast, lunch, and dinner. That’s how we did it back in the day on the Indianapolis Clowns. Oh, what? You laughin’ at our name? Yeah, we were The Clowns. I didn’t pick that fool-ass name. I just played left field, son.
You eat bacon, eggs and steak three meals a day, it put some meat on your bones. Except it didn’t put no meat on Hank’s bones. He was one skinny-ass piece of work, wrists all floppin’ around when he hit the ball. But he coordinated, though. That’s what count. He coordinated.
Now I gotta tell ya, I seen some crazy, crazy stuff in baseball, but nothin’ as crazy as this Barry Bonds fool. I think he on the same sauce those tight-ass, your-package-all-showin’-light-in-the-loafers-RuPaul-tours-France bicycle riders is on. How you swing the bat if your arms is so big you can’t move ‘em? He the one lookin’ like a clown, sayin’ “No, I didn’t take no steroids.”
You seen his rookie card? Fool look normal. Now he got tree trunk arms. He say it all ‘cause of weight trainin’. What, you ain’t never seen a pair a dumbbells until you got to the major leagues?
Time for my confession. Snitchin’ Jose Canseco, you gonna love this. Yeah, we tried some stuff in our day. We didn’t have no doctors or none of this fancy mess. Trial and error, that’s what we had. It don’t work? It make you sick? Walk it off, son.
Willy McGee’s Battin’ .300 Homerun-Hittin’ Potion.
Mix in a blender:
1 can of beer.
½ oz baking soda
4 cups ammonia
1 lamb chop
6 oz black shoe polish
1 cup goat’s milk
a pinch of alfalfa sprouts
90 cups cough syrup
3 tabs Alka-Seltzer
5 ice cubes
2 oz industrial bleach.
Oregano to taste
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Is not wrong have brewski or bottle of vodka before climb rocket for space. “Bottle of vodka is too much comrade, how you steer rocket in orbit?” you say. No, not too much. After drink to country, drink to mission, drink to children, drink to wife, drink to ex-wife, drink to other ex-wife, and drink to mistress, entire bottle is gone. Drink before flight is good luck. How you have good mission otherwise?
Yes, I have few drink before accidentally steer rocket into East German communications satellite. Ah, but is from bottle of vodka I drink in orbit, not before launch. Hangover before launch is good think. Means pay attention to Premier Khrushchev instructions. Otherwise, he throw shoe at you. I see this happen to many comrade of mine.
Fly space mission is noble profession. One with many, many advantage. Honor for country. Fame. Macho brag rights. Cosmonaut is one of most dangerous professions in entire world today. If not afraid of blowing up in rusty Soviet rocket, then what else I not afraid of, Comrade? Maybe this why no one ever fight me in Vladivostok bar when I break off beer bottle on table after young revolutionary talks bad things about Mother Russia.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Like prison, heaven is an oddly backwards world. In The Great Beyond, how you bit the dust largely determines whether you'll have dust kicked in your face. I once told Abe Lincoln how I died and he said, "Oh, how quaint." Thanks a lot, Abe. Way to be a leader.
Here's a little summary of the pecking order in heaven. Victims of high profile tragedies like the Titanic, the Hindenburg, the Challenger are top dogs. Whereas other people, pizza delivery boys for example, aren't given the time of day for making their mid-80's Hondas one with an oak tree in the noble pursuit of a $1.50 tip--all so some other sorry dude has a pepperoni and sausage pizza at his bachelor party before the stripper gets there.
So, how do I feel about dying in the name of Domino's deep dish? Honestly, pretty good. I've been able to make friends with some heart attack victims (a.k.a my former customers) who don't get much respect either.
Death isn't delivery, it's Dijorno.