Posts Tagged ‘Multi-part?’


February 15 2010


Do you like it when I kiss you here? [kiss]

Yes. I do.

How much? [look]

Hm. Can you kiss me again there…

[kiss; look]

Yeah. That’s good.

How good, though?


[kiss while looking]

It’s better than a strawberry milkshake. But not as good as a rootbeer float.1

[kiss (while looking)]

It’s like chicken teriyaki, or Hawaiian fast food– tastes like macaroni salad and cabbage and densely packed rice.

[kiss, but quick & gentle]

It’s as good as the best Beverly Cleary. Clear, concise, and crisp like a time machine.

[kiss with superfluous ribstickling tongue]

It’s the Weird Al of kisses: not that funny, tries too hard, but you sort of like it anyways.

[kiss, mashed up but terse]

It’s rain– hard rain– car washing the windshields of the coffeehouse I’ve been sitting in for four hours while I sip a cold hot chocolate, or guava soda, and read. And look.

[kiss, slow and sincere]

It’s the eighth best place you can kiss me, the 12th best place you can put your mouth.

What’s #1?

Lip half on my ear, telling me all of your secrets.2

redacted; others: It’s better than the elliptical but not quite the stationary bike.

  • It’s better than network, but it’s still TV– not HBO.
  • It’s better than global warming but not worth ditching my car for.
  • It’s better than a punch in the face, much better.
  • It’s better than the last 80 minutes of Up, but not the first 10 minutes of Up.
  • It’s better than a Hot Pastrami, but it’s no Reuben: King of the Sandwiches.
  • It talks like Imperial Bedroom but walks like Blood & Chocolate
  • It speaks softly and drives a Sherman tank
  • It’s better than Midway, and it’s better than O’Hare. Fuck Chicago’s airports.
  • It’s better than Taco Bell, just about Chipotle.
  • An authentic mole, on the other hand…


2While you finger me until I cry.


Iterations (pt 2 (pt 1))

February 10 2010


Do you like it when I kiss you here? [kiss]


How about here [kiss]?

Wait. No. Why?


Why do you need to know?


Is this some kind of ploy?

[kiss, kiss]

What are you planning?

All sorts of plans [kiss]

Am I just research for your masters degree in erotic cartography?

[kiss] Doctorate [kiss]

Are these kisses some kind of amorousness morse code?

[robot voice] M-O-S-T D-E-F-I-N-I-T-E-L-Y [arms robot slightly, kiss]

Are you collecting market research?

What market would that be?

The… getting-ki[kiss]shhd ahn[unkiss] market.

Oh, well–[kiss]– you found me out.

I knew it.

I’m a secret plant for Big Affection [face on hand on elbow, looking]

[girds self with balled hands up-pulling covers (slightly)]

My mission was to find out what revs the engines of {variable} females age 25-25 who live in {variable} and like to date {his own name}

Mission Accomplished, I guess [the ol’ pout and turn]

[wait 11 seconds then the sound of kissing]


Do you like it when I kiss you here? [on the back]

It’s ok, I guess.

[the scritch of pen-to-pad] How about here?1


Leftovers 2009 (part one)

January 2 2010

Scraps from Ideas and Pieces too Unappetizing to Have Timely Finished

Mating Habits for Future Humans1

Nano Dating

Like speed dating2 or flash dating,3 except that now you are part of an intricately-plotted mandala, constructed such that, when each person spins in a circle they are treated to a brief (BRIEF) glimpse of five new ‘potentials’ per revolution.

Forget faces or conversations or well-flexed adductor pollicis– Nano Dating is pure jib!

Mistake Your Date For Sea Green When Really They Are A Dull, Drab Umber4

aka the vague essential blur of the thing, the whole smear.5


Ask out one of every ten people you see6

Ass(istance), Gra(ba)ss, and Gas

Ass, Grass, and Gas: Robot Roomates will supply all three…

– Their Assistance is guaranteed by the Robo-Human Collective Bargaining Agreement of 2083, by which robots were bestowed the context-limited right to kill humans (in cases of rape, incest, and war/political assassination) in exchange for de facto-y/de jurish slavery.

– Be it dicking around, tea bagging, pussyfeeting, or tying labias together while they sleep, weird/gross/sexualized horseplay has heretofore been the province of human beings. Not so the Future, in which your robot friends will play Grabass with you in lieu of the increasingly scarce, and dangerous, prospect of human contact.

Gas! (Quick bots—proscribing ecstasy, fumbling)!78

As part of the Robo-Human Collective Bargaining Agreement Annex of 2085, all Robot Friends– now mandatory for every household– will serve as your Behaviour Eccentricity Standardization, Training, and Intimidation Escort, or BESTIE. If you engage in lollygagging, goofoffery, grab-assery, goldbricking, around-screwing, self-pollution, self-pollination,9 self-immolation,1011 self-immunization, immaturation, United Nations, con-grat-u-lations, around-dicking, digression, discession,12 precession, gyration, around-humping, axes,13 axes,14 not using axes,15 acts of aggression, a-grousing, agros,16 Argos,17 shaggy dogs, picaresques, feghoots, foogoffery,18 loligaggery19 or any other Deviant and Unscrupulous Moral Practices expect to be gassed.

So what does this have to do with mating? I FORGET! (AND DON”T REMEMBER THE PARTS OF THIS THAT HAD TO DO WITH MATING)!/20




1End-of-decade laziness scuttled this otherwise worthwhile premise by keeping me from coming up with more than three notions. Probably will recycle within a month.

2“Speed dating is a formalized matchmaking process or dating system whose purpose is to encourage people to meet a large number of new people.” – Wichard E. Pedia.

3The Little League Shake Line of dates. ‘Good Game’ each of your Potentials. Primarily face and hand shake based.

4Subtitling a picture of Sea Green.

5Character swatches.

6Or, for advanced Decimators, (exactly, precisely) every tenth person you see.

7Alt. 1980s Post-Modern Neo-Beat Poem (That Is Probably About AIDS) Version: Gays! Quick boys, getting down!— Fumbling on ecstasy!

8That probably happened, right?

9In the future, humanity finally achieves peace on earth, god-sin reconciliation through their merciless, the opposite of mild battle against/oppression of their greatest foe: sentient plants that think they’re people.

10Those suspected of floraeic sympathies– Buddhists, Banzai Groomers, Topiarists, Meat Lovers’ Pizza Lovers, Carrot Top, Al Jardine– will be relocated to special “Free Speech Estates” where their speech will be freely observed, their estates liquidated; a new generation of punks will play Thresh music, and sport an aesthetic patched together from reappropriated/contextualized overalls, straw hats, 20th century frozen vegetable advertising iconography; Flatstock a tedious procession of seed packets promoting shows by bands named after esoteric legumes, and festival schedules in the guise of crop rotation grids.11 The subculture, horticulture; the plant user, supaltern[sic].

11“Did you see Cyamopsis at NeoBumbershoot? Fabaceae could barely follow them.”

12[Prisoner reference]

13No X, no Y, no Z; no gyros, no scopes.

14No electrical guitars– each metals and plastics part is a tree that goes unslaughtered.

15Trees again.

16What else can I say? [The future is] All arcologies. Also: aqua seafoam shame (i.e. the humiliation of realizing that no amount of carbon nanotube tower sterility and magical future spaceglass dome anaesthesis can crest the swell between humanity’s promise and what it delivered). Later, In a Sun (namely Iota Rigoris): A Painting Subtitled Josh Malina, Feeling Broke Up and Wanting, Being Unable to (Ever Again) Go Home. [And then, in the book, on the opposite page, a plate with this picture]

17You paid to witness a skilled and accurate recitation of pre-recorded songs as performed by the original artist and that is (precisely, exactly) what you will get.

18Telling people to “foog off” while affecting a false brogue. What?.

19i.e. Hand-drawn half-grown mouths unable to ablate impossible deposits of cock.


Constructive Ventures, part one

December 3 2009

Constructive Ventures

Efficiency, efficiency they say,” a famous violist once wrote about a ghost, I think, or World War I, maybe: “[g]et to know the date and tell the time of day.” It almost applies here.1

A date– whether a moderate success or a resounding failure; whether a transcendent lesson in abject humiliation2 or even if there were boobs3 involved– need not consume, entirely, the attentions of its participants. Their time and effort need not be wasted, if (as is likely) they are ultimately uninterested in pursuing the relationship further, nor spent One Hundred Per Cent in the creation/undertaking of an incredibly basic social contract/preliminary interview for potential mating. We can instead4 date While Doing Something Constructive (With Our Stupid Lives For Once). Efficiency, like the great John Cale once sang about, possibly, I bet, can not only maximize our productivity and learning potential, but– when deployed properly– can guarantee that even the shittiest date was not for naught.5

Forget silver linings, by architecting your dates as Constructive Ventures you are blueprinting silver foundations; even if the date, or ‘building,’ completely falls apart, you can still ‘sell the plat to an eccentric billionaire who seeks to build the worlds largest soldering iron’, i.e. learn how to count using an abacus.

[SIDEBAR: “A. Gordon Agagag, Gold Medal Philanthropist or Silver Spoon Lunatic?”

Alexander S. Gorton, heir to the Gorton’s Fishstick Fortune, was born on July 16, 1968 in Gloucester, Massachusetts. The first of one children, Alex was likely the product of the legal consummation of the marriage-cum-merger of Herbert James “Herb” Gorton, II, and Lilian “Lily” Sukkot, daughter of tent magnate Allen Sukkot. He is presumed to be a mistake.

A Mistake?

Being that Herbert– the youngest of 12 children and diagnosed Schizoid Man– and Lilian– the second of 8 children but almost certainly a lesbian– were so poorly regarded by their families6 there seemed little chance that either of their respective estates would pass down to them. This fact, when combined with the vastness of their families, freed them from their obligation to procreate. And given their particular attitudes surrounding the act (almost completely disinterested in other people and completely disinterested in penises, respectively), one would assume they wouldn’t have bothered to do so. But, fortunately for baby Alex, both the Sukkots and the Gortons were highly law-abiding peoples, at least where contracts were concerned, and Herb and Lily felt obliged, if not at all aroused, to make their marriage legal. Little did they know that the resulting happy accident would prove to be an incredible boon for the Gorton bloodline.

The Fishstick Killer

Not everybody in Gloucester loved the Gorton family. In the summer of 1978 a series of grisly tragedies befell the entire sticked fish industry. On the morning of June 14th, Mrs. Paul (titular) was garrotted with her own halyard while trying to raise the flag for its (titular) Day. Misses P. Paul (1895 – 1978) had little to do with her son’s company, but her death did attract both John Paul and Edward J. Piszek to her funeral. It was here that they, and their families, …7]

Arts and Crafts

You’re creative, right? Or you want to bang someone creative? It’s safe to say that you’d at least like to be perceived as creative– because otherwise you’re just someone of limited occupational success who is bad at math? Well so does everybody else.

Does that follow? Or agree? Maybe, maybe not– but one thing we can both agree on is that what follows is a collection of excellent Arts and Crafts ideas for you to explore on dates!8

71. Knitting

Remember the scene in Lady and the Tramp where the Lady and the Tramp are eating spaghetti and then they realize that they are eating the same strand of spaghetti and they kiss about it? And before that the Tramp touches a meatball with his nose and the Lady thinks he’s so fine and she has such a slumdogthrilldownthere that she pretends that that was an ok thing to do in public instead of vomiting all over the spaghetti? And those ching chong China Cats, just creeping the fuck out of everyone, turning people off to Siam forever? That’s why it is called Thailand now: because of those Lady-framing jerkcats. That, and ethnic pride9 slash burgeoning nationalism.

Well yarn is just like spaghetii, motherfucks, and if one of you starts at the collar and one of you starts at the hem in three(?) short hours you can have an unattractive, ill-fitting sweater vest to fuck on top of!10 Slash clean-up with after.

[INSERT: “A Pattern For Your Very Own Sweater Vest (To Fuck On Top Of)”

By, my Mom]

72. Scrapbooking/Collage

Scrapbooking, or, as it is known when your sweatshirt has a hood attached to it, [de]collage, provides you the chance to kill two birds with a single book.11 You are not only learning a hobby that is the pitch perfect combination of irony and sincerity and, therefore, a valid and valuable Quirk,12 but also allowing each other perhaps the clearest glimpse into your sense of humor, taste, creative process, aesthetic, and work ethic.13 You are, in the best of all possible worlds,14 gazing at the resulting mishmash of half-formed ideas and magazine pieces and baby pictures, and seeing, soft-eyed, the Jib.15

[SIDEBAR/CHART: Quirk Exchange Rates, 2010 projected16

|Unfashionable| Glasses Frames 0.1/ \/ 75%

Socialist 0.75/ \/ 25%

Anarcho-ContradictoryIdeologicalSystem 1.8/ /\ 140%

Libertarian 1.2/ /\ 20%

Piercing 0.1 per trad; 0.2 per odd/ ~,\/ 25%

Ear Rind 0.2 flat/ \/ 150%

Tattoo 0.2 per/ \/ 25%

Beard, kempt 1.0/ /\ 150%

Beard, disheveled 0.6/ \/ 25%

Moustache 0.05/~

Moustache, pencil thin 1.0/ /\ 1000%

Moustache, waxed 0.5/ /\ 25%

Liking Lady GaGa 0.00/ \/ (><)%

Uncritical, Hugely Effusive Acceptance of Everything NPR 1.0/~

And so on in that fashion…]

Content-wise: What did they bring pictures of? What did they look like as a kid? What have they achieved (if there are evidences of their achievements)? In terms of experience: How do they collaborate? What level of irony or sincerity do they display in their choices and construction? Is it sufferable or in? Do your approaches compliment or match each other?17 Think about yourself for a second: If you are thorough and delicate do you prefer someone with the same craft-loving hand? Do you find their slapdash, half-hearted and brash erratic pastings dismissive and disrespectful and worry that if this is how they treat your most beloved of personality flourishing paper arts How Will They Treat You? And your child? And your collections of accrued insincerities?18

This is obviously ridiculous, but the point remains: think about thinking about how what they do– even in their tiniest actions– makes you feel.19

73. Sculpture

As long as you can resist the urge to make a dick or a boobs or a working butthole,20 sculpture can be your ‘in’ to you showing your date that you have working human hands that could, mayhaps, be working them, someday, an hour from now, in their car, for money. It’s not much– only a couple of bucks and, if you’re lucky, an expired but passable bus transfer21— but with the economy like it is, it’s best not to look a gift handjob in the mouth.22

Actually, upon further consideration, short of making a working butthole or a vagina of serial killer level authenticity and detail, most ‘adult’/childish sculptures should probably work for a significant, non-terrible section of the population AS LONG AS you are not attempting to use the sculpture as the basis of an actual proposition– as long as you are not single winking it.

[SIDEBAR: “On Winking”

It is important, crucial really, to at least Double (and no more than Quadruple, although even that is pushing it) wink in the scenario related above (sculpting a peener in an attempt to charm someone romantosexually). Which is to say that your wink must wink at itself; it cannot be an actual attempt to seduce or impress. That is what single winking is, and it is not acceptable in this context. This does not mean that you have to wink twice, just as it does not mean you have to hold your wink for twice as long, rendering your stupid face into some crinkled, de facto Popeye;23 it is just that your wink must somehow convey 24 the fact that it is jk’ing– that you are winking at the fact that you are winking.

Now if you feel that your date would appreciate it, or if your personality is so clownlike and desperate that you can’t even help yourself, you can try to lay down one of the aforestablished multi-winks.

Triple Wink: Like the Double, the Triple Wink is still a single, physical wink. But whereas the Double winks at the idea that someone might, in the present situation, sincerely wink, the Triple winks at the very idea-slash-institution of winking. Unlike the Double Wink, in which the exaggeration is physical exaggeration is generally slight, and the meaning is derived, in large part, from context,25 the Triple Wink contorts the face into an ironic grotesque, cartooning your grin into that of a cheshire snake devouring prey. Or the above-noted crinkled Popeye.

Quadruple: At which point you turn your wink into a running gag, you wink at the idea of having ideas or action. Or of communicating in general: David Letterman with a random word; a Space Ghost interview; the end of the Dennis The Menace movie where that evil hobo is farting beans. The wink happens multiple times and can be any variety of intensities and fullness of body; it can even be the same tightly-crafted well-executed wink repeated perfectly again and again. Not for everyone, the trick to executing a quadruple wink that wink-enthusiasts will actually enjoy (and not– depending on level of politeness/timidity/worry for your fragile, stupid ego– humor with thin, stretched out courtesy smiles and even thinner nose laughs)26 is rhythm– mastering the invisible jazz that underlies the structure of any recurring/meta bit. It is difficult to explain– certainly beyond my expertise–27 but is reasonably easy to get a good enough grasp (of) to avoid being a fucking shame in the eyes and nasal cavities of others. Just be sure to get out while you’re still getting genuine approval (ideally, Costanzesque,28 at your peak), lest you slide, accidentally, unaware, into performing the obnoxious and hated…

Quintuple: The quintuple wink is the end of the line: there is no sex or sep or eight -tuple wink; when you use the quintuple you are just being an asshole. Any kind of semiotics is gone, your attempt at significance ceases to mean. The actual act is not so different than the Quadruple, in fact it is arguably what the quadruple becomes once it has not only gone on too long, but as gone on too long to have gone on too long after going on so long that it had redeemed going on too long the first time. All patience is exhausted, friendships or budding romances ended, all passing embryos and fetii: retarded. If you ever see the other person again there is a good chance that you’ll try to bust it out at some point with the same hopes, and the same result. You have most likely ruined everything within two or three degrees of the relationship. Rebuilding is impossible; you have no choice but to find a new plat of land (figurative or literal) and start building again. And for all that is good and holy, try to avoid collapsing inwards into…

Infinite Regress: While there can be no further numerative iterations of the wink, there is always the possibility of Infinite Regress– a level of self-consciousness so self-consuming that you are literally, figuratively, spiritually, figuratively literally, and literally figuratively consumed. Yet, unlike the Buddha, for whom the annihilation of the self led to a transcendent purity of soul and spirit, the achievement of Infinite Regress just renders its accesor infinitely insipid, self-indulgent, and unleashes a brand of paranoiac narcissism that is poisonous and terrible and will entirely dis-integrate the mind from the human body.

For example, Jorge Luis Borges, upon writing a pretend editor’s explanation of a translator’s comment on a double-nested footnote to a pretend story about an infinite mirror in a library full of every permutation of language, lost his ability to see.

David Foster Wallace hung himself after a surplus of stray parentheticals29 completely sapped his brain of the ability to produce seratonin.

John Hodgman, in 2005, was literally turned into a computer after completing the full list of United States Shadow Congressmen and their Dubious Achievements; one for each congressman, but the women are immune due to the Shadow People’s inability to replicate the neither the up-do, nor the skuit. Thus launching the successful ad campaign: “Parent’s Day Ripe Grandma,” for VH1.

Charlie Kaufman was granted immortality. After which, he will retire to his giant space egg for a sentence of 311 trillion years,30 during which time he will have to rethink every thought thunk throughout existence (and exhaust every unimagined contingency) in order to repopulate existence for (yet) another go upon his emergence.

And how do I know this? I know this because I know that I knew this once and, as such, know that I’ll never not know this (forever!) again. [But it should be written better] /

And how do I know this? I know this because you know this– we were dead the whole time (and then, in increasingly smaller font, time time time time time)!].31





1It could be a Modernity thing (always a safe bet).

2And therefore neither a success nor a failure because it transcended that, it became an entire different category of human experience– it lapped magisteria!/NOW what, Stephen Jay Gould?

3Boobs should be one of the few words always bolded in writing (and in conversation). For other “Other Words of Great Aesthetic Import,” please refer to the Addendappendices, pg. 379.

4To change subject mid-paragraph.

5This is not entirely correct– the shittiest date was never for naught as it provided its survivor with that most valuable of social artifacts: the Story. It would, as a result of its soul-scarring awfulness and re-relatability, become an experience, a memory, something to– once suffered-through– treasure. And furthermore, anyone with the least modicum of self-awareness/slightest sense of humor should be able to recognize this mid-date, thus allowing them (at some point) to relax, write the night off, and just revel in the terriblosity.

What the Constructive Venture Strategy (or ‘Consumer Value Stores’) excels at is the ability to salvage the most disappointing, the most mundane, the most underwhelming, and the most forgettable of dates. Why do you think hit syndicated television atrocity Blind Date always has its couples learn how to pole dance, or kickbox, or get nude in a hot tub? A. Pandering, pure and simple. Also: B. Jerking It.

6e.g. They forced them into the first marriage-merger they could find: fish plus tents.

7For the rest of A. Gordon Agagag’s amazing life story please refer to the Addendappendices, page 497-506

8Well can we at least agree about the fact that there are a number of ideas?

9Read: superiority

10Lady and the Tramp was made in 1955 and these acts have, accordingly, been adjusted for inflation:

– Whereas the Tramp nudges the meatball with his nose you should pass a yarn ball to your date by impaling it on your erection (and flipping it)/you should, instead, work yourself with a cable knit needle (is that what the fat ones are– one of the fat ones), and then let your date taste it.

– Whereas [other part from the dinner scene]

– When Tony and Joe wop it up showing you to your table, talk dirty to each other like paesans.

– When those crazy Ching Chong China Cats are fucking with your shit, firebomb a Mahjongg parlor.

– J/K. Just order some Pad See Ew and fuck on it and use the bean sauce as butt lube.

– Thailand. Not China.

11Swinging wildly at the sky and the ground, as you run down the dock, screaming.

12Part merit badge, part currency– the resume by which you win dates in the aforederided subset of American society.

13While it is exactly this tendency– the use of (some of) these qualities as standard-bearers by which to judge the potential success of your hypothetical relationship– that I excoriated back in the needlessly unwieldy introduction, it is important to keep in mind that I am making this up as I go along (a) and (b) this whole venture is an exercise in comedic writing that works better when I, the author, take a position and run (the fuck away) with it. Furthermore, the Jib: that part where I rambled on about the Jib. You know, with the Magic Eye reference, and the guys from The Wire. Memories…

14I knew there was something I liked about this town (in which the foliage is 100% clipped-out Oprah smiles).

15See: The Introductory Parts, page x; two footnotes ago, page this one.

16Not pictured: Hype Securities, Backlash Futures.

17Not a homonymic mistake: does their montage contain positive statements about your hands (their dexterity, ability, smallness vis-à-vis the rain)?

18 Will they handwash your Snorks thermos? Will they place your Hummels in optimally erotic positions? Will they serve peanut butter and fluff on your Thomas Kinkaides, thus both devaluing the plates and lead poisoning your stitch and bitch?

19Your eyes ever on the Jib.

20You know, that poops?

21Your classier tricks dates should have a roll of passable transfers in a tear-off dispenser mounted to the passenger-side door. Also: disposable goggles and Kleenex. Lots of Kleenex. (Or Wet-naps).

22That’s extra.

23First off– as long as there is still spinach, what junta could install you?

24Although, in this context, the ridiculousness of your action all but does this for you…

25Or, perhaps, after, a knowing smile or slight smirk.

26[INTRA-MEDIAL CUNEIFORM: “The Nose Laugh and its Habitats” [and then write this]

27As it refuses to be emmed in by misapplied dashes.

28Which is to say, fleshy and voluptuous and bald.

29And free footnote radicals

30Give or take 40 billion or so.

31Another acceptable tact is to do it with a straight face and/or art eyes– just working thoughtful, in rapt(-but-not-too-rapt) concentration– as if the thing you were building, the thing that you were lovingly shaping with your own damn hands, wasn’t a peener/’giner. Emerge from your trance only once: face still straight, doing the thumb-and-squinted-eye measure thing. This is the only single wink acceptable for this endeavor.

Why I Was A Failure as a Standing-Up Comic, part two

December 2 2009


My new housemate is borderline retarded.

And not in that fun ‘let me throw you a touchdown pass, and then you flex your muscles and think we’re going to the Super Bowl’ sort of way,

but in more of an… Eastern Washington sort of way.

Very Idaho.

• • •

The other day he tried to make conversation with me as I was eating dinner

and in the span of five minutes he said only three sentences,

but they were so shitty, that I feel justified exploiting them for my own personal gain at his expense.

(David Sedaris style).

• • •

Here’s what he said

“I got into it with a bitch at work today”

“A woman is a bitch if she won’t fuck you”

“Seems like I’ve been running into a lot of bitches since I moved to Seattle”

• • •

Now what I >appreciate< about his pathology

If we can just, step back for a second, and appreciate it

Is that it has the concision and solipsistic brilliance, of a Mathematical Proof:

• • •

1. IF you partook in heated exchange, with a Bitch.

2. GIVEN that a bitch, is a woman— who won’t fuck you.

3. AND that nobody wants to jump on your hog, bro!

4. THEN this woman is representative of the superset, of ALL Women, inasmuch as she won’t touch your junk

does not want you inside of her AT ALL

5. THEREFORE you should eat a baloney sandwich in a soiled recliner and have the Worst Conversation Ever.

• • •

He is like the Descartes of Misogyny

Or at least the Robocop.

• • •

Femina, Ergo, Cum

• • •

Thats a little latin joke SEMI COLON

I went to college COLON

Could you possibly be any more smug SCARE QUOTES

Probably not! PARENTHESES

• • •


Some people will try and convince you that Elephants Never Forget

And sure, they have a point: but what they’re not telling you is that

other animals suffer from similar aphorismic idiosyncrasies

• • •

Did you know, that

Alligators never Forgive?

• • •

Did you know that

Porcupines never Go to Bed Angry

and that Hippopotamuses Waste Not and Want For Nothing?

• • •

Did you know that

Koala Bears neither a Borrower nor Lender Be?

• • •

Did you know that, in the interest of national security, all Carrier Pigeons

are bred to be illiterate?

• • •

While notoriously thrifty, Kinkajoues make above average sexual partners

due to their proclivity for experimentation, in the bedroom

• • •

Did you know that Termite Queens – Feel the Beat – of the Tambourine?

Eat that Wall – Rot that Beam – Dug by her Termite Team?

• • •

Did you know that a pomegranate is actually a kind of fruit?

• • •

And did you, Seattle, know

that while bisexual in college, dolphins are now married to an investment banker named Keith?

• • •

Every single Dolphin

• • •

All for Keith

• • •

Good Job, Keith

• • •


Did you know that the State Bird of Detroit is a Trojan Magnum?

It’s a used Trojan Magnum, floating, American Beautiful

down the broken bottle depositories that they call streets there.

• • •

Spreading its seminous spores like a dandelion bukkake,

fertilizing needless and confusing analogies, like a bee in a button factory.

• • •


I accidentally watched the Today Show yesterday

And, what that really means, is that I got to see Willard Scott’s birthdays—

he’s still doing them, at least ‘As Of When I Wrote This Joke Two Years Ago’.

• • •

And I had forgotten this, but, he gives a little biographical information about these 100-plus year olds,

for whom I am almost positive they recycle the same six pictures.

And their bios basically consist of “A woman of enormous faith and loves the good things in life”

or “He reads the bible everyday, a salty pillar… for the comm-unity”

But I sort of wish they’d be more honest— because you know at least, ALL of these people

are [probably] h o r r i b l e bigots.

• • •

Happy 101st birthday to Ida Miller of Augusta, Maine.

The only thing she loves more than her cats is the cleansing purge that

AIDS has wrought upon the degenerate core of the Gay-Hollywood-Satanist Complex.

• • •

Happy 103rd birthday to Missy Cooper of Durham, North Carolina.

Her 7 children, 22 grandchildren, and 8 great-grandchildren

are daily recipients of her love, her homemade strawberry preserves

and her steadfast segregation-era prejudices which have divisively torn the family

into bitterly-feuding factoins. Just ask

the 7 grandchildren and 2 great-grandchildren who are daily recipients of absolutely nothing,

and whom she will only recognize as a chocolatey taint on the Cooper family name.

• • •

And a Very Happy 100th birthday to Andrew Thompson, serial rapist.

He escaped capture because his brother was the Chief of Police—

anyone who came forth was severely beaten and threatened with death if they ever mentioned it again.

He doesn’t know it, but he has 2 kids and 5 grandchildren.

• • •

I guess I have a tendency to assume that all old people are not just inadvertent bigots,

people for whom time and changing cultural sensibilities have rendered their belief system anachronistic

and entirely unacceptable, but also Human Monsters

who rape, and pillage, and wreak emotional havoc without the least hint of remorse

And I’d feel worse about that, but I don’t.

• • •

Sorry Old People— there’s a Culture War going on and you are Collateral Damage.

More Animal Facts

December 1 2009


% Mice‘ first alcoholic drink? Mint julep; it’s why they despise peppermint to this day, only decorate their christmas trees with rainbow canes.

% Alt. Why do Mice hate peppermint? Candy canes remind them of their father and his (fucking) horrifying death: Santa Clausing down a chimney, his arms loaded with presents.*

% There are 602,214,141,070,409,084,099,072 Moles per burrow; never go below ground.

% Naked Mole Rats have become endangered ever since ‘digging gangs’ were found prosecutable under RICO statutes.

% (Diggers long have embezzled union dues; 85% of Volcanoers indentured slaves)

% Octopuses can squeeze their entire body inside a soda can. An impressive act of contortion outshone only by the rapid development of the cephalopod soft drink industry.

% Thus explaining their nickname, The South Koreans of the Sea.

% Pearl Oysters do not appreciate how we have besmirched their necklaces, wish we would stop knackering ourselves nacreing all over each others’ faces.

% Though intelligent, Pigs aren’t smart enough to not be delicious.

% So fuck ’em.

% To account for their incredible reflexes/eponymous linguistic deficiencies, all Pigeon cinema is shot in 75 fps comma dubbed into adorably incompetent English.

% Quail do not actually wear their underwear outside their pants; the belt on the head thing is a half-truth.

% (It’s a cincher– the gamebird has yet to master the awl).

% The Quoll, one of Oceania’s many hilariously poorly adapted animals/barely-living jokes, is actually the past tense of the quail.

% When a quail dies, its body– its animus– (all quails are women) is mailed to Australia.

% Upon touching the down under’s magic soil, it resurrects in the form of a cat so dumb the male will kill or eat the female during sex.

% Idiots!

% Speaking of Australians, the Rabbit was intelligently designed as some of Tralfamadorian fuck you to the former prison colony and its ungainly inhabitants.

% Most Scorpions’ venom is not harmful to humans– at least not as harmful as their cutting barbs and stinging mot justes.

% The mythical ‘mermaid’ is actually the lowly Sea Cow;  their existence a fabrication spun by shamed sailors, who– too long at sea– joined-in on their down-low man-on-manatee jo sessions.

% Is it any coincidence that the legendary sea siren is an anagram for “i’d ream ‘m”?

% Other disgusting things Australians do? They sneak inside the Sea Cucumber‘s multi-purpose anushole just to swim around, conceive their young.

% One look at the Tapir’s elongated snout would lead one to believe that they eat ants and termites like the similarly equipped anteater and aardvark; one would be wrong. Their nose is actually a finger by which they eat the dreams of the Chin and Japanese.

% Wong Kar-Wai’s classic film In The Mood For Love is actually an adaptation of a real life story that happened between four Termites and a hole in a tree.

% Other Wong Kar-Wai movies based on insects? Pill Bugs and Chungking Express. Gay Ants and Happy Together.

% The red face of the Uakari is objective proof of the shame of being bald.

% Umbrellabirds are so named because of their victimization at the hands of Chris Brown.

% Unaus aren’t technically adorable, as they are both unable to love, and their stringent atheistic beliefs cause them to turn back all obeisance or worship.

% Sick and tired of race traitors like Alex Trebek, Jim Carrey, Dan Aykroyd, Catherine O’Hara, and Michael J. Fox, the Canadian Porcupine, the Urson, has abandoned the United States for Canada.

% The Urubu is the only bird to– upon first menstruation– use isolation, dietary restriction, and antbites to ritually signify the coming of womanhood. That can’t be right.

% Voles are not to be trusted; though slaves themselves, they think nothing of voling out their fellow subjugatees to Skalrag for their own personal gain.

% During World War II, the Germans cross-bred Wisent with American bison in an increasingly desperate attempt to create a master race.

% The Wolverine‘s dark shaggy, hydrophobic fur is a big upgrade from its old skintight, neon yellow and blue pelt.

% Xiphias gladius— that’s the latin name for the Swordfish! Suck it, Pallotta!

% While skilled saxophonists, Yaks are rarely asked to join big bands due to their penchant for zany digressions.

% Yorkshire Terriers invented pudding lame.

% Zebras, tired of always being at the end of things, have lobbied more than two dozen times for legislature that would alternate alphabetical order on a yearly basis.

% Zero chance, jerks.






*And that’s how they found out there was no Santa Claus.