Yes
1) “Where oh where are the potato shavings? I shall use them to predict your future. Some use crystal balls, some tea leaves, others egg yolks…and I, this. Oh, I see. You want to marry a bison? We can’t cater to your kind here. What? Oh. Haha. Funny. You think that you will find anyone willing to be your lawyer? Civil rights? Please. Oh wait, you’ve had a successful vasectomy? (Pause) Let me get one? I’m sorry for the confusion. I’ll buy you an egg cream and we can forgive each other’s past indiscretions…”
-from King Kong’s monologue for the Juilliard audition (he didn’t get in)
2) Just because I have electobronkiatus, which is a fear of the atmosphere, does not mean that I am a lesser person than you. I simply must wait to be crowned Husband of All French Women.
3) Patrick Duffy came to me in a dream. He was dripping with anticipation. There’s apparently a new strawberry substitute that tastes “just like real strawberries.” (source: Vogue). Patrick Duffy loves strawberries. The funny thing is, I know this, but we’ve never met. What’s funnier is that if you finish reading this line…(I’m giving you a chance here)…you have to be the new president of his fan club. For life. No takebacks.
4) Curly hair is a sign of nervous intelligence. That’s why I always have 5 sheep with me no matter where I go. They’re meticulous personal assistants. And they always have a great way of fitting into conversation the comment that sneezes are the equivalent to 10% of an orgasm’s release.
5) Be careful of purchasing real estate from anyone who calls himself “Hillbilly Jim” and/or shows up to meetings wearing overalls made entirely of cold sore shavings. He passed the bar exam in seven states and is, in fact, being lazy. Please call his mother’s cell phone (dial “Ocean 9″) and have her text Hillbilly Jim a guilt trip.
6) Less sense me beat. Decode the phrase in 0.2 lightyears and you win my destiny. Just please don’t make me a lab rat. I hate yodeling.
7) I have two rings that interconnect magically when I am standing on the border of two U.S. states. Obviously, this makes each state’s laws null and void when the judges try to convict me for parachuting nude into an abortion clinic and distributing outdated communist paraphenalia (signed by Lenin). As long as I landed on the border initially, and am wearing the rings above my waist, I’m okay. As for Lenin…the jury’s still out (makes a loose wrist gesture while taking another sip of a Windex julep)
J) Edgar Hoover Was not funny. The sooner you realize this, the
better equipped you will (o) be when you step into the ring with Al
Pacino at Wrestlemania in the Soliloquy of Death Intercontinental
Steel Boot Match. Vince McMahon is never wrong! (about geography)!
9) Gondwanland will be my first pick as a destination once they invent time travel (and the requisite time travel agencies that will follow). I hear Pangea gets too muggy and the natives make the drinks very weak yet expect large tips and percentages of your Roth IRA. Perhaps I can find a nice light skinned man there and bring him home for Thanksgiving so that my parents can stop asking me why I’m not gay.
10) Frozen hair gel, in the desert, being lonely.
11) The Blue Lagoon is where me and the fish and the lepers hang out and
invent false card games. You need an ID or an ego to get in.
Fortunately, my aides brought along a copy of the “Intermediate Ninja Moves” DVD, so it was “all good,” as the white people say.
12) Monopoly game pieces litter the floor of my bedroom. I simply cannot beat Willem Dafoe. He always comes back out of nowhere and gets all of the good hotels. Failure may be imminent, but at least I learned from Mr. Dafoe the fine art of matching your silk bathrobe with the furniture in your bedroom. Perhaps, one day, I too shall “arrive,” as the rich folks say…
When in Rome, screw.
-The Luscious Half-Sister of Spiderman Davis
1) Bathing in agony and/or ecstasy, I have become blind in three ways:
-I cannot see fish, or any representation of a fish
-I am not considered attractive by Yugoslavic codes of beauty
-I cannot see inside my throat, thus dashing my dreams of becoming a gift horse.
2) “Purple rain/purple rain
Piglet’s blood/ labor pains
Money’s black/white man’s shame
The ghost of Thomas Jefferson/stares back at me/ in the clean linoleum floors/ of my kitchen”
Re: the above. Prince has been praying up the wrong tree. Recently.
Kanye West: “Funny, the same wrongs help me write the songs!”
Prince: “Stop whining and suck my uterus!”
Nietzsche: “Of course. Now, really… Why am I here?”
(cue the theme of “The Never Ending Story,” sung acapella by a Colombian drug lord’s talented but doomed wife).
3) Thomas has shared his English muffins with too many children. With each muffin eaten, he gains a delusion. He believes, for example, that umbrellas were a conspiracy designed to block rain from seeping into the skull, “God’s detergent for the cerebral cortex.”
Please donate to the high fructose corn syrup debate here:
730127007 Robert Redford’s Weight
Skull Kingdom, FL
Mmmmmbop205
4) Camillaveals (n.): statues who are afraid of the delete button and everything it represents.
PLEASE USE IN A SENTENCE
Sentence: “These camillaveals are making me horny”
Michael Jackson: “I didn’t do it!”
5) My mother gave me “Personality Grades” every three months during my youth.
A sampling from Period Two of Year Ten:
Ability to carry on entire conversations in the second person: C+
Abstract thinking about deep space: D
David Bowie impression: F
During parent-teacher conferences, my mother would lick vodka off of a mirror and yell at herself
6) The Yakluzanot Brothers (accent on the LOOZ) have challenged my great-grandfather to the
200th power (a swordfish, or, for those of you who don’t believe in evolution, Abel) and I to an “African Night Shade” contest.
Such a contest requires that you successfully get permission from an attractive woman
to pop any blackheads she may have on her face.
The hotter the woman, the more hate mail you receive from men who claim to be feminists.
And I’ll let Gonzo take the rest so as to avoid bags of hate mail being dumped
on my doorstep daily:
Gonzo: “Fine, I’ll say it you weakling. Men who write feminist literature are like all other men, except for some godforsaken reason, they have a dry pussy fetish. There, I said it. And fuck the Yakluzanot Brothers. They owe me two hundred rubies.
7) CUT TO: INT. High School Gymnasium
Gonzo is being crucified as the half time show for Grover Washington High’s semi-final
basketball game against A.C. Milan
Gonzo( on a roll): “And another thing…Jared’s father is a ghost!”
(Grover Washington’s skeleton at this point accentuates the preceding statement by
jumping off of a trampoline and performing a reverse slam dunk).
Marv Albert: “And the audience is going into hysterics…they are
canceling their New Yorker subscriptions in order to have
more money for Playstation games!”
(At this point, a mascot representing Truth orders another cranberry juice)
GONZO IS RAISED FROM THE DEAD)
In the third installment of our Gonzo followings, the present author
does this resurrection in order to not, ultimately, punish Gonzo for his remarks, because
“Punishment is soooo passe.”
-Britney Spears’ suppressed intelligence (could compose music as well as Mozart had, if only we were already in the Age of Aquarius).
9) The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man is having many problems with his new roommate,
The Lazy Kreem Filled Croissant Boy. Semen samples have confirmed that Stay Puft
has been masturbating not out of lust, but out of rage. Here’s what a hidden canary overheard at
their shared duplex:
Stay Puft: “I just don’t GET you!”
Lazy Kreem: “Let’s throw I Ching coins to find out when the sun will implode…”
Stay Puft: “Do you work!?”
Lazy Kreem (momentarily distracted by a piece of lint): “Mmmmm…the year 500 billion…”
(Further data was lost after the canary saw that a documentary about euthanasia was playing on a TV in an apartment across the way and decided to fly over)
10) Public Hair
11) Valley Girls who get STUNs are like camillaveals who can impregnate regular statues.
(written in pink on a hot pigeon’s ass): It. Just. Doesn’t. Happen.
12) The Universe doesn’t like you. Have you tried the Sorbet? The Failure Flavor should suit you and your (barely unattractive) spouse perfectly.
The man at the Pasta Factory is my Mom’s “Special Sleepover Friend,”
Doris “Diamond” RedaJ
Everything you know is alike to parallel you. Stop thinking you’re unique, Jo Sho.
I need contextual healing.
PS Josh Heller LOVES dry oatmeal
Sing a tune in X minor
PS Richard Simmons loves standing in line just for the sake of it
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