Phan Male

Dear One E.,

As a faithful reader/contributor for several days now, I have a question for you. Who should I vote for in the '08 election? You seem to be full of opinions and LSD-like thought patterns.

As a form of "pre-payment" for your soon-to-follow litany of written babble some would call "advice", I will offer up this piece of "advice":

Do not see the movie "SuperBad". It is not titular irony nor vernacular; the movie is actually super bad, with an occasional funny moment here and there.

You're welcome.

Your Pal,

Anonymous

Where Did I Put My Damned Leg?

A man in North Carolina who bought a smoker at an abandoned property auction found a human leg inside. The amputee "plans to drive to Maiden, about 35 miles northwest of Charlotte, to reclaim his amputated leg, police said."

Anonymous Heterosexual Toilet Sex UPDATE

Two fans at last Saturday's Wisconsin Badger football game were arrested for screwing in the ladies toilet.

That couple was having sex in a family bathroom when arrested and taken to the police office, where officers were about to interview them separately, Burke recalled, "and the guy says (to the girl), 'By the way, what is your name?'

The story is so riveting, I had to quote more of it:

According to UW Police Officer Gerard Pehler, ... a bystander approached and asked him, "Can you do anything about two having sex in the women's restroom stall?" "They're going at it pretty good," added the fan....

The two were pulling up their pants when the officer arrived. "I asked them quite loudly to get out of the stall," Pehler says in his report of the incident. the woman still had her pants down and was struggling to pull them up, the officer said. "It should be noted that she was unsuccessful in the attempt because her pants were inside out," the officer said.

...the officer asked couple to produce their tickets and the man was able to find his -- the seats were in section KK -- but the woman couldn't find hers, what with her pants being inside out.

What to Wear, What to Wear

I just discovered that the Clowns have been secretly planning a Rusty Session without me. As if Willy could fill my shoe. Nice try, assholes. Just for that, I'm not coming.

I will, however, write some new material for you to work on, so check back frequently. Coco, I'll need a theme.

Rustwater Intelligence Police for Cash

The First Unichurck and RUE Enterprises Inc. Ltd. LLC, a faith-based initiative, have teamed up for a new joint venture in paramilitary policing - Rustwater Intelligence Police for Cash. RIP for Cash will be less of a vigilante mob than a highly-trained professional group of armed mercenaries. Rustwater is excited to enter the corporate war industry which continues to experience unprecedented growth and opportunities for expansion.

It is undisputed that the private sector supplies services more cost effectively than governments, so the rise of private armies is a welcome improvement in the efficient use of deadly force. Rustwater executives look forward to having cool choppers, planes, guns, and missiles and the prerogative to use them without the wasteful, inefficient restrictions created by bureaucracy and government oversight.

It has not yet been determined where the Rustwater mercenary army will operate. The market in Iraq is considered saturated, but Rustwater sees growth opportunities in other regions. Rustwater intends to specialize in thought policing and shooting people.

"Some people out there actually think they are free to believe in their own beliefs," indicated an anonymous Rustwater spokesman/woman/transgender, "and we see this unfortunate situation not as a problem but as an opportunity. Those are the people that we need to fix. Wherever there are people that need to be enlightened, whether through killing or other forms of behavior modification, Rustwater will be there."

For reasons that are too complicated for you to understand but which are entirely benevolent, Rustwater will be headquartered in Dubai.

All Hail Cheese

We sent my son off to Kindergarten last week. I am fairly certain that it was much more tramatic for Mrs.Ear and myself than it was for the boy. Nonetheless, he is still not quite sure why he is going to school. I tried to explain how Kindergarten drop-outs have limited job options, but I am afraid that he sees unemployment as a bonus. When I asked him what he enjoyed most on the first day, he indicated that there is a boy in his class named Gabriel who answers every question by saying "All Hail Cheese!"

I am sure that this situation must be quite frustrating for the teacher, but my son, and then myself living vicariously through him, found this to be quite humorous. Each night I ask him how many times Gabriel said "All Hail Cheese!" Judging by the decreasing frequency, whatever counter-measures the teacher is using must be working. But Gabriel is still good for at least one or two renditions of "All Hail Cheese!" per day.

I am not sure whether the statement "All Hail Cheese!" is derived from some movie or commercial or what. Granted we do live in Wisconsin, so perhaps that has something to do with it. Maybe Gabriel is simply a comedic genius. Whatever the source of his inspiration, my son and I have adopted Gabriel's refrain which we now use to answer any stupid question. Examples:

Q: Are you letting them have candy after they've already brushed their teeth?
A: All Hail Cheese!

Q: Did you clean your room and make your bed?
A: All Hail Cheese!

Coco, (and LBok and Alcesete and probably everyone else) in anticipation of your question, no, the teacher is not hot. However, the student teacher would be do-able if one were attracted to attractive 20-somethings with nice teeth.

Mile Low Club

Until recently, I was unaware of the vast network providing anonymous gay airport toilet sex. Apparently there is an intricate system of signals and protocols, all of which I had been completely oblivious to. I had to retrace my footsteps for the last 20 years - I wonder whether I ever inadvertently offered to have anonymous gay airport toilet sex during any of my "layovers". Apparently I dodged that "bullet."

Of even greater interest, I have to wonder whether there is some protocol for anonymous heterosexual airport toilet sex. As a married man, I inquire strictly for educational, scientific, and religious reasons. How does it work? Would I, again speaking strictly hypothetically, have to go to the ladies toilet, or would I find my date in a stall in the men's room? If I enter a stall in the men's room and there is a woman standing/sitting/lying there, what are the signals? Do I still have to buy her a drink? Does water count?

Someone enlighten me.

. Photo courtesy of Paulleen Simon Photo Stream

Feedback Loop

Dear Sirs: I am writing to complain about the content of your website. A man who attacks God only harms himself.


Dear Concerned: I believe the politically correct phraseology is "A man who attacks God only harms him/her/transgender's self." What makes you believe you are viewing content?

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Dear OneEar: Why are you defending pedophiles? At least NBC is catching these sickos.


Dear Pedophobe: I believe pedophiles should be summarily executed. However, I also believe that about non-pedophiles. If the police or TV executives would just administer random lethal injections, that would put an end to many of society's problems.

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Dear OneEar: What is your problem with Pluto?


Dear Pluto-lover: Why don't you go love Pluto, Pluto-lover.

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Dear OneEar: You are an idiot.

Dear Mom: It is nice to hear from you.
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Dear OneEar: Why do you assume that anyone with flesh-colored tights must have a prosthetic leg?


Dear Hop-along: Never trust anyone in flesh-colored tights.

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Dear OneEar: You make many spelling and grammatical errors.


Deer spellchekir: I practice English make more better.

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Dear OneEar: When treating cheesy discharge, diurer, and anal bleeding, where do you apply the salve?


Dear LBok: Over the eyes.

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Dear OneEar: What are the 10 rules for good living?


Dear Good Liver: 1) Don't drink to excess while holding your computer on your lap. You might read something funny and then you'll have that beer/snot all over the keyboard and monitor. 2) Don't covet your neighbor's wife when his daughter is over the age of consent. 3) Sprouts of any kind are not people food. 4) Don't count on escalating borrowing to save your business or country. 5) Don't buy the grenadine. 6) To keep your feet soft and baby-like, wear heavy wool socks. 7) Always put your car-keys in the same pocket. Ex. left pocket of outermost garment. Then, you won't be able to leave your coat somewhere and you'll always know where to reach for your keys. 8) You should probably turn off the circuit breaker before you attempt to replace that switch. 9) People will make fun of you if the dish to pass you bring is a bag of ice, but then they'll want some. 10) Try to laugh at someone each and every day.

Catcher in the Wry

Prosecutor kills himself and NBC gets sued.

REPUBLISHED FROM 6/2/06
My plan is to create an elaborate trap designed to catch Stoned Phillips or some other TV investigative journalist by posing as a sexual predatee.

You may have witnessed one of the hundreds of special reports whereby a network talking head teams up with a crack team of young, sexually questionable kids to pretend to be even younger, sexually precocious kids on MySpace. Once the crack team encounters a sick f^ck intent upon preying on a youngster, the crack team lures the sick f^ck to a house filled with hidden cameras. After the sick f^ck enters (and occassionally drops his pants), the talking head emerges and berates the sick f^ck for being a sick f^ck.

Now I agree that this makes for great entertainment. What sort of perverted moron wouldn't want to watch a perverted moron questioning a perverted moron? Plus, pedophiles rank below Nazis and attorneys on the scale of public sentiment, so it is very gratifying to watch them squirm.

I am just afraid that, eventually, the public may tire of these shows. Thinking ahead, after this trend has run its course, (but before the pay-per-view telecasts of public executions), I foresee a time when we will be at a loss for good, quality television. And so, back to my concept.

I will get a child to pose to be a pedophile posing to be a child on MySpace. Once the crack team sets to work, Stoned will lure the "pedophile" back to his photo-lair. When the child drives up in his miniature car, he will park far away so that, without perspective, Stoned won't realize the dimunitive size of his prey.

The child will walk toward the house on stilts smoking a cigarette and complaining about his bunions. He will shake his fist in rage at the sky and mumble something about Part D and "the way things used to be." Then, he will sit down and feed the pigeons (or squirrels).

Once he runs out of pigeon (or squirrel) food, his head will droop forward as he drifts off to nap. Eventually, he will awaken, pull some crumpled papers out of his pocket, read through a few, and then look abruptly toward the house as though he has just remembered the purpose of his visit. Rising again atop his stilts, he will resume his amble toward the house.

Meanwhile, inside, Stoned will have worked himself into a journalistic froth. Like a stallion at the dog track, Stoned will be pacing, snorting and fuming and barely able to bridle his impulse for unrestrained journalism.

Once the child arrives at the door, the child will refuse to open it until the child tells the child what the child will do to the child. Once the child tells the child what the child will do to the child, the child will pull from his trenchcoat a shotgun and shoot the child through the door. Don't worry, the child can't be prosecuted because the child is a minor.

AP for RP!

Rather than seeking support from the general masses (the least common denominator), we have decided, in our ongoing efforts to influence the US presidential election (coming soon to a computer near you), to employ a sharply targeted strategy. It is like hunting with a rifle rather than a shotgun, only with a needle.

Announcing!! Autopederasts for Ron Paul !!!

Are you an autopederast who is undecided about which candidate he/she/transgender should support? Why not vote for Ron Paul. Granted, he may not be capable of successful autopederasty. Even his efforts at autofellatio failed. But still, you have to give him an "A" for auto. Besides, who else are you going to vote for - the woman? the black guy? the adulterer? the lazy actor? the cute guy? the old POW? the dwarf? I didn't think so.

Ron Paul - He won't screw you if you can screw yourself.

#1 Again

Rusty Never Sleeps - the Official Site of the First Unichurck at oneear.blogspot.com is now the #1 search result on Google for the query "ron paul autofellatio." Now the herd shall come home to roost. (For some reason, we don't show up for the search "LBok autopederasty").

Once again, the FU is on the bleeding edge of US Presidential politics. Congratulations all the way around. Interestingly, I note that the folks at the Mapleleafweb.com site also have drawn the connection between Presidential candidate Ron Paul and the hedgehog. I fear the Canadians are trying to scoop us. Come on real Americans.

Dwarf-like Goat Man Behind Success

Dr. Louden Buttoffskey, the renowned surgeon who has been affiliated with an until now prestigious West-coast university hospital, made scientific history last weekend when he actually managed to do the hokey-pokey.

Granted the aging doctor is not the first human to successfully enter his own winky with his wee willy. What makes his feat so remarkable is that the dwarf-like goat-man has such an unusually small giggle-stick and most assumed that it would never reach the knot in his balloon. His bald yogurt-slinger has earned the moniker "Easy Rider" for more than one reason. Often seen humping large rats or the occassional dwarf-elephant, LBok typically succeeds in his amorous pursuits precisely because of his miniscule stink hammer: His prey often doesn't even notice that he's doing them.

So, onlookers and the internet community alike were amazed when Doc Bok took a swig of his home-brewed whisky, removed all of his clothes, and then chortled, "you may feel a little prick!" He then contorted his hooved shanks up over his head and curved his body around his own back such that he resembled a very disgusting cinnabun. Covered in a brown, sticky glaze, and wrapped in cellaphane, the surgeon then carefully probed his blind eye with his one-eyed worm.

"I didn't even know whether I'd successfully tickled my pickle," Doc Bok was heard to say afterwards, "until I after I'd put my capri pants back on and noticed all of the santorum."

LBok had been urged to attempt the feat on numerous occassions, but, until now he had succeeded only in using his fist for the old chimney sweep and, on one occasion, digging mud with the tongue shovel. Now, Bok has crossed that final frontier, he has gone where no man has gone before (except that many men have actually been to his, you know, but anyway).

Congratulations to you, Doc Bok, now you can move on to the next item on your life list.