Monday, August 28, 2006
Evidently, drinking at least two drinks per month puts Milwaukee at the head of the pack Nationwide for 'drunkest city in the country'. Victory by default is never pretty; what kind of losers were competing in this contest, anyway? Where the Hell was Madison during all of this? Or Verona for that matter? I think the Churck should demand some answers, or at least further research.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
In an unprecedented and unorthodox move on Friday in Indianapolis, New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin, who has often been accused of wearing a skull prosthesis for effect (people with large, mushroom-shaped bald heads evidently seem smarter than their non-mushroomed counterparts), made a plea to the Federal Government to speed the relief to the Katrina-torn city. What made the request atypical was it's gustatory if not frankly culinary nature: Nagin insisted that he hated the oranges from "Orange County" California because they are too vanilla for him (does he also hate something everyone loves--Creamsicles? We can only speculate), and then proceeded to go right off the deep end by insisting that all future relief dollars be actual chocolate, to fit in with his previous "Chocolate New Orleans" political strategy. As the masturbating metaphor-junkies in the audience really started to spin, Nagin shocked the crowd by responding to a question,
"No, I'm talking about ACTUAL chocolate federal dollars. You know, like the
kind you used to get in your Christmas stocking as a kid. Or if you're Jewish,
given to you by your parents on Channauka as a sort ofpre-conditioning--HA!
That's pretty funny, aint' it? I love the Jews. Come in a little mesh bag. Gold
foil wrappers. Indistinguishable from legal tender until you pop 'em in your
mouth. You all know what I mean.
The larger plan is to create an entire
(Nagin slowed his speech at this point for dramatic effect) CONFECTIONERY
economy, if I may. The long-range plan that I and my advisors have come up with
is to take those chocolate federal dollars (another dramatic pause), and place
them...in the chocolate bank we're presently constructing next to Cafe Du Monde
in the French Quarter--though I may be prone to a few, how should I say,
'personal' deposits into my mouth, if you know what I'm saying-- and
then...simply live off the interest. We could even replace paper money with
beignets if things work out. Maybe a little messy with all that powder, but
worth exploring. It's a well-organized, comprehensive plan, and there's no
Vanilla, if you know what I'm saying."
When asked for comment, OneEar was noted to remark something non-sequitur and essentially unintelligible. But, he stated, University of Wisconsin, Madison,has dropped from number 1 (Number 1? Number 1?) to number 5 in the BigList.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
The way I understand Darwinism, somebody needs to f^ck white rhinos and then kill the offspring until a black rhino appears. This is called natural preservation.
Then, somebody needs to f^ck that black rhino and give it all kinds of treats. This is called natural selection. It is how you origin a species.
Get to work, rhino-f^ckers!
Thursday, August 10, 2006
And...there is no more smoking in bars. You need to file a suit on
conventioneers behalf. We just passed that law in BR as well. tsk
tsk. I am free as the wind, just trying to clean up the shit in my
bathroom before the maid is stuck with it. Call me when you are
You clean up for the maid but not CocoaNoGoGo? The trail of shit stains you
left at his house was epic.... Be careful and do not tape dollar bills to your
fur as a trusting wookieI know once did....
The sad thing is that I did clean up in Chicago--it is just that the job
was so immense. On a similar note,I shit myself last week on I55 in
Mississippi. I was between exits, and the guts were rumbling. I
squeezed and squeezed, and, luckily, made it to an exit. There was an
Exxon a mile down the road, but it was boarded shut. I began to panic, and
tried to go down the other way---bad mistake. My bowels exploded and the
runny brown liquid oozed out everywhere, soiling the seat of kristin's new
Altima with a brown paste. I drove to the back of a church and found an
fence-enclosed air conditioning area. The fence was short, but I had no
choice. I stripped down and attempted to clean myself with a new pack of
Hanes undershirts. It was simply too much poo. Then, a pickup truck
pulled into the lot, but it went to the front of the building. I put on
some other shorts, but the brown evil paste was still everywhere. I put
down one ofHunter's blankets over the shit in the car, and I made it to Taco
Bell and cleaned up in the bathroom, then returned to the church to retrieve my
shit coated clothing. I couldn't leave that for the ac repairman to
discover. I found a convenience store and bought a roll of paper towels
and some Orange Clean. It worked like a charm. Later that evening, I
rinsed the crap-laden clothing out in the hotel tub, but the drain was slow, and
I couldn't get things to flow south. I checked out in the morning, leaving
the stained undershirts in the trash of the hotel room. I felt bad for the
lady who would have to clean the shit up, and feel bad for this lady as well
here in Madison. However, I suppose that is the cost of doing business with a
pig like myself.
Everyone--in an unbelievable sequence of actions, I blasted mud in
the shower this morning, coating the walls and clogging, once again, the
drain. I have been traveling for two weeks, and the food is killing
Now, what could have happened on that famed evening of Wookies and Grizzly bears sleeping in the poopy hotel? Which of the large, furry creatures crapped the floor in this scatological mystery? And left their respective paw prints in the doo? The fact that both had traipsed through the evidence, casually unaware, makes the mystery even more difficult to solve. And, to add insult to injury, Grizzly blames Wookie, and Wookie diplomatically states he can't imagine who could have broken into the room just to do that, force them both to stride through the mess, break the mirror, and steal the towels.
The image of a Grizzly squatting down behind an air-conditioning fence trying to clean liquid turd off his fur is suspicious, thought-provoking, nauseating, yet somehow hysterical. Who can crack the code? This case is sure to go cold.