http://socialitelife.com/photos/30-photos-of-children-terrified-of-santa/santa-kids-12082010-28

Old Saint Carp Is In Da House

Twas the night before Munitions Day
N' all through ma crib
All ma peeps wuz down sleepin'
I was bonin' Adam's rib

Yah, ma peeps wuz down dreamin'
Bout the sh!t they be eatin'
But the Missuz and I wuz
A havin' a board meetin'

When down in da hole
They arose such a noize
I said, "Damn racket packet,
Dat must be ma boyzzzz."

So I pulled up ma trousers
Ta go check on ma homies
N' I cocked up ma uzi
Just in case of the gnomies

When what to my bloodshotted
Eyes should I see
But a big colored fish
N' he was looking at me.

He was giant N' ugly
N' smelled somethin' terrible
N' he laffed when he saw me
N' his breaf was unbearable

Had to choke back da vomit
Creepin' up in ma troat
When he suddenly gave birth
To a large candied goat

The goat was encased
In a gelatin sack
And it squirmed and it jiggled
Like ma neighbor on crack.

Then the fish layed some sacks
Of munitions and bombs,
Gelatiny dynamite
N' bags of napalm.

Well, I'd had me enough
Soon my uzi was purrin'
But da carp, he just laffed
N' pissed gasoline urine.

Then out of the cellar
Like giant earth worms
Came a slimy skateboard
Pulled by mini-pachyderms

The carp he called out
To that elephant show
"Get your assess in gear,
Cuz' dis place gonna blow."

Dem' elephants started burrowin',
he called them by name:
"On Stumpy, On Gimpy,
On Limpy and Lame;

Now Burny and Other Limpy
Now Crippled and Smelly;
On Crawler, On Mauler,
On Napalmy Gelly."

The carp stopped and dropped
One more bomb, and he laffed
Then he flushed his whole team
Down the dark, dirty shaft."

And I heard him exclaim,
As they sloshed down the pit,
"Get the Hell out of here
Before it all blows to sh!t."

In One Ear

Don't you kids make me pull this car over...

Moments before the rubberband snapped!

The World Seems to be Catching On

Look what I found--ON THE INTERNET!!! Seems like someone really likes our music, or religion, or is making a play at a hostile takeover. To Arms, Clowns! To Arms!

Did You Say Hipster Bar or Hamster Bar?

You may recall that, during the build-up to the most recent Rusty Sessions held last summer in Phlipadelphia, my good friend and apostle Coco requested, some would say demanded, that we include in our itinerary a "hipster" bar. At the time, I did not give his suggestion much thought, as is my wont. I didn't know what the term "hipster" meant, but I knew that I'd regret putting in the effort to find out.

It reminds one of reading Shakespeare as a high school student. I remember my AP English teacher flipping out one day when nobody had the slightest fucking idea what a particular passage meant. My normal practice in high school was to read the Cliff's Notes as I drove in to school. This made more interesting both exploring the bard and dodging pedestrians. On this particular morning, my old nemesis the broken fuel gauge had delayed my arrival to school. My friend who rode in to school with me and I had to push the car a few blocks to a gas station and then to wait until we saw someone who would lend us a few bucks. I arrived slightly later and less literate than usual.

There was the teacher yelling at the class for failing to understand some segment of As You Like It. I'm not sure what everyone else's excuse was. Most of them had cars with working fuel gauges, so it is hard to guess why they hadn't read their Cliff's notes. Anyway, while the teacher was berating us, I had time to take out the actual book and read the passage he was screaming about. I still had no clue. (One didn't dare bring out the Cliff's notes in class). Supposedly the best author in the English language and I can't even guess at what he is trying to tell me. Why? Because it was obscure, and I didn't give a shit.

If something is obvious, then one doesn't need to give a shit. Kim Kardashian is a skanky whore. I understand that even though I don't care. If one gives a shit, then obscurity only causes mild delay in understanding. If you are interested in a measure of the global economy, check out the Baltic Dry Index. However, in situations with a high degree of non-shit-givedness, even the slightest amount of obscurity causes a complete failure of understanding. This is known as OneEar's Seventh Law of Shetyerass.

In the case of Coco and his longing for a hipster bar - I'd have to figure out what a hipster bar is, then I'd have to figure out why Coco was interested, then I'd have to predict whether I'd give a shit. Given the twice removed obscurity, I quickly concluded that it would be extremely unlikely that I would give enough of a counterbalancing shit. I think this may mean that I am a hipster.

Four-Legged Fool's Eve's Eve

There are serious concerns that this year's Rusty will be cut short mid-stroke

Leave it to Doomsday to ruin everything. I guess we can have a five-month party afterward, though.

Are YOU ready to Rusty?

Anticipation

Anticipation

Anticipation

By Popular Demand, Happy St. Patrick's Day

As I've been telling you all for years

http://www.theonion.com/articles/anthropologists-trace-human-origins-back-to-one-la,19191/

This Little Piggy

I've been trying to figure out how to capitalize on the fact that our fiscal irresponsibility is driving us directly and inevitably into bankruptcy. There must be a way to cash in on this, but, short of turning Chinese, I can't figure out what it is.

Munitions may be a wise investment. There is a decent chance that we'll need to shoot our way out of this mess.

However, because we have a "democracy," and because our enterprises are publicly owned, those that hold our debt also hold a decent amount of our equity and also own a decent number of our representatives.

So, what is the proper bet?

I've decided to look for the solution in the only logical place: I'm having my toes read.
http://www.letsasklinda.com/Toe-Reading.html

Sleeves Are For Pussies

I decided to break out the Rusty Sleeveless Tee today.

Trust me, nothing garners respect and admiration quite like a Rusty Sessions sleeveless T, (supplies limited). Wear it when the temperature is below 0 degrees, and your nipples will be good and hard, as will the nipples on your goose-bumps.

I strut into Walmart like I just won the scratch off. The ladies eye me like hungry goats eyeing some sort of goat feed container filled with goat food.

"Confident, proud, sleeveless," I imagine the checkout girls saying to each other as I stride into the store.

As I approach, they see the portrait of a one-eared sheep on my chest. Obviously a principled man, certainly great, but humble. As I pass, they catch the first glimpse of the rooster on the back. "The Cock."

"Where has he gone?" all of the checkout girls wonder anxiously as I disappear into the labyrinth of clothing aisles.

When I reappear with a pair of sweat pants obtained from the clearance rack, and I approach the checkout area, there is a swoon so distinct as to be audible.

"Did you find everything you need," asks the girl lucky enough to check me out.

"I did now," I say with a wink.

She blushes and shyly places the change into the palm of my hand. I smile and slowly turn. She strikes a coy pose and watches longingly as the Cock gently splits the sliding glass doors and thrusts into the bright afternoon sunlight to disappear.

That is one good fucking shirt.

What Do You Propose?

#1 - Legalize it.
#2 - End the Fed. This cancer has turned malignant.
#3 - Downsize defense. Every foreign crisis which causes US investor loss does not implicate the "common defense."
#3 - Outlaw public unions. They are oxymoronic.
#4 -Flat tax (or possibly Fair tax).
#5 -Make Dept of Ed simply a funding mechanism that enforces simple workable criteria - eg. Year around school, 8 hour school day including rec/sports and extracurriculars, 80% graduation rate = $5k/student.
#6 - Phase out all Ag subsidies. If you want to support corn growers, buy corn.
#7 - Reform Medicare. Vouchers used in conjunction with co-pay can encourage competition and remove central planning and wasteful fraud-ridden bureaucracy. Ditto with Medicaid.
#8 - Permit private gambling enterprises. Why has this revenue been diverted offshores and to tribes?
#9 - Remove federal business subsidies and/or simply abolish the Department of Commerce. This political pork breeds corruption and stymies legitimate business.
#10 - Modify the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. More of each.

Say Again

A question has been posed hypothetically many times to explore compassion, and charitability: "If your Uncle Jack was cleaning the gutters and his ladder fell down leaving him stranded on the roof, would you help your Uncle Jack off?"

In today's "Bible school without all of the mess" lesson, I would like to explore a different topic. We just completed another bout of Christmas where an entire society celebrates, with straight faces, the "virgin birth."

You see this young lass named Mary was pregnant, but she and her main man Joseph were said to be "not fuckingeth." The only logical explanation was that Mary's baby was the son of God. An invisible angel confirmed this.

Yes, history's first recorded "Holy Fuck" would explain the situation. There being no other contenders, we had a winner. But wait. Aren't there other explanations for the unexpected pregnancy of an unwed woman 2000 years ago?

Perhaps she was visited by an alien species using some type of cloaking device. He could have entered her tent while she was sleeping for a little "Uncle Ear's special hug." I'm kidding. Jesus Christ don't get so concerned.

He could have impersonated an angel when she awoke. "If you get pregnant, don't bother trying to find me. Your baby-daddy is an omnipotent, omniscient, but cranky God who created the entire vast universe but needed your uterus for this little project."

Or, maybe Mary was a fully-functional hermaphrodite. The text is conspicuously silent on this subject. I'm sure this relevation would cause concern to those who worship Mother Mary but would likewise turn on its head the import of the phrase, "Go fuck yourself!"

Or, perhaps Mary was actually twins, one of whom engaged in sexual intercourse just like the rest of us mammals. The mammalian Terry might have gotten stuck living the life of Mary when she pretended to be Mary while Mary went to see a concert. Hilarity ensued when Mary, pretending to be Terry, was called up on stage and had to pretend that she was the one who was not a virgin. You know, Madonna.

Good times. So, I hope you've learned something while I've gotten this off of my mind. You know, you really have helped your old Uncle jack off.

Where Is My Calendar?

Like many people, I have gotten older over the past few years. It seems as though my age increases with each passing day.

And with age comes wisdom. And with wisdom comes wisdom teeth. And with teeth come chickens.

Which brings us to the response to a reader inquiry: "Please apply your incompatible wisdom, unparallel knowledge, and unique incisors to elucidate how one might expand the concept of a turducken ." (Or words to that effect).

If I am not mistaken, and how not mistaken could I be, it is now 2011. Yet here we are eating the same old turducken as we were eating 20 years ago. As everyone knows, the turducken is a de-boned chicken stuffed inside of a de-boned duck stuffed inside of a de-boned turkey. We have all considered stuffing that thing inside of a de-boned hog stuffed inside of a de-boned cow. So 20th century.

Let's get postmillenial. Why don't we resurrect some of the larger extinct species to continue this out to a bigger and therefore better conclusion. Recreating a mastodon should be no problem. I seem to recall, although I don't feel like spending 45 seconds on Google to confirm, that a frozen mastodon complete with viable DNA was found in the ice somewhere (probably somewhere cold).

OK, so grow one of those in a buffalo mama or whatever, and we will stuff the beef, pork, turkey, duck chicken thing into a de-boned mastodon. Now let's get creative. If them damn scientists can stop dicking around with chicken's teeth and watching us masturbate long enough to get some work done, they should be able to reverse engineer some other species like the T-Rex and the Apatosauraus.

What I am proposing, my culinary colleagues, is nothing short of the Apatyranomastobeebacoturducken (drizzled with reduction of dodo).

I WIll Take The Drumstick

Dinosaur Rebirth
Can scientists turn a chicken into a dinosaur?

...
In other words, it is as if birds still have the molecular capability to grow teeth, but just aren't doing so anymore. Even though it hadn't been switched on in 150 million years, Chuong wanted to identify and reconnect that molecular pathway in order to re-active teeth-building processes.
By studying the genes, molecules and chemicals responsible for the growth of mouth and teeth structures in other organisms, Chuong was able to stir together a mix of molecules that might trigger the "dormant" circuitry into action. He then placed tiny beads of this concoction in the mouths of the chicken embryos. It worked. Through the microscope, he and his colleagues watched the embryos growing, as if the chickens had, all along, the genetic instructions to grow the beak. They may have had the ancient circuits to do so, but they needed just the right ingredients to be properly switched on.

Can your damn science do something worthwhile or not?
I don't want chickens with teeth, I want broiled T-Rex drizzled with reduction of Dodo. Or maybe extend the turducken concept out a few levels. Remember the big rack of ribs foretold by the Flintstones. You know, something useful.

If I didn't want to eat previously extinct animals, then I would have lived in the not-too-distant past.

Wiser Than Randall G. Leighton

I received an email with the following quotation at the end:

Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt, dance like no one is watching, sing like no one is listening, and live like it's heaven on Earth.

It was attributed to "anon." A quick search reveals that this quote has been attributed to Randall G. Leighton, Mark Twain and Satchel Paige (three of America's greatest Presidents).

Regardless of the identity of the wisdomer who imparted this wisdom, there are a few obvious omissions:

Dress like you don't have a mirror
Watch like the TV is interesting
Write like anyone gives a shit
Drive like you won't see tomorrow
Stalk like the restraining order has been lifted
Screw like your friends are all watching
Speak like no one understands you, and
Spend like no one is hungry

Another Year, Another Dollah

Here are my year end thoughts, in heretical order:

1) Why are there no simquaolas? Nobody has the initiative to invent them?
2) Have you ever noticed how perfectly the Christmas carol can be performed:
Fu uh uh uh uh
Uh Uh Uh
Kit.
3) Have you ever noticed that the guy who prefaces his question with "have you ever noticed that" doesn't really and truthfully want your answer?
4) Have you ever noticed that this is turning into a Seinfeld rant? Not that I'm in needed of gassing.
5) Have you ever noticed that we can never really escape the sins of our forefathers?
6) I suggest that we smelt the clouds (in order to extract and condense their silver).
7) My nieces are visiting, and I have now listened to the Justin Beaver album 4,648 times. Here is how his song(s) goes:
"Girl
I'm gonna tell ya one timeI'm gonna tell ya one timeI'm gonna tell ya one timeI'm gonna tell ya one timeI'm gonna tell ya one timeI'm gonna tell ya one timeI'm gonna tell ya one timeI'm gonna tell ya one timeI'm gonna tell ya one timeI'm gonna tell ya one timeI'm gonna tell ya one timeI'm gonna tell ya one timeI'm gonna tell ya one time
(Parenthetically, I think we should expend more resources on teaching mathematics including basic counting).
I'm gonna tell ya one time, You're the only one (although my counting skills are suspect) and I only want to be with the one ("one" in the scientific notation sense meaning that you are one of 10 or fewer, or lets just round to the nearest one hundred), and I say this to you baby, one more time, I'm gonna tell ya one time..."