Friday, February 29, 2008

Fun with NAFTA


We all know the side effects of NAFTA can be quite unpleasant. Job loss, complete lack of customer service when dealing with overseas hot lines, vacating industries, etc. But there’s no reason we can't put an enjoyable spin on this travesty, now is there?

The following is a transcript of a "recorded for quality assurance" phone call.

Customer Service Specialist: (in heavy Indian accent) "Thank you for calling America online, my name is Elvis, how can I help you?"

Caller: (in thick Appalachian accent) "Yessir. Mah name is Bashir Ibn Fahad, and ah'm havin' nine kindsa hell gettin' connected to my deadblamed email over here."

Elvis: "I am veddy sorry to be hearing this Mr.....Fahad was it? That is most extraordinary! I am having an uncle named Rami Fahad!"

Bashir: "That's nuthin' Elvis! We done had us a singer over here named Elvis! I got all his plates an' everything!"

Elvis: "Well I must confess to you sir, that my name is not really Elvis. We are asked to pick an American name to put you more at ease."

Bashir: "Well, Elvis, that's alright. My name ain't Bashir neither, but I figgered since you was bullshittin' and all, so would I. So.... About my email over here....."

Elvis: (now in a baffled/hurt tone) "Well sir, what seems to be the problem?"

Bashir: "Well...I got this computer in front of me here, and I git to loggin on to America on line and all, but when I click on my mail box, it says "Hello Jonathan." Now my name ain't Jonathan, and these emails are definitely not mine."

Elvis: "That does sound strange indeed sir. Tell me are you using your own PC?"

Bashir: (laughing) "Can you say 'PC' again there Elvis? It's raght funny the way you say it."

Elvis: "I'm sorry, sir. How should I say it?"

Bashir: "Oh nevermind Elvis. What about these Jonathan F. Miller emails I'm starin at here? I got no use for all this mail that don't pertain to me."

Elvis: "Jonathan F. Miller? Is that not the CEO of America Online?"

Bashir: "I reckon so, Elvis old boy! He must be some fancy bigwig. Guy's got a big old roomy office, security guards and the whole shebang. You wouldn't believe who I had to sneak past to git up here."

Elvis: "Sir, I do not understand. Up where? Where exactly are you calling from?"

Bashir: "From Miller's office o'course! Hain't you been listenin' Elvis old sock? I'm trying to get on ma email from this here Miller feller's computer."

Elvis: "Sir, you can only access your email from your own PC. (another giggle from Bashir) You should not be using Mr. Miller's computer."

Bashir: "I cain't afford a PC Elvis! Ever since I lost my manufacturing job to Mumbai, I got no income at all good buddy! In fact, I came to see Mr. Miller just to let him know that a bunch of us over here decided to work for fifty cents an hour. Figgered he'd move his call center back over here and take advantage of that sweatshop shit! Know what I'm sayin? But he wasn't in today, so I figured I'd just check ma emails to see if Monster.com found me any possible openings. And now I can't get in to my email."

Elvis: (dead silence)

Bashir: "Well, seems the cat's got your tongue there, eh Pressley. So you're saying I can't access my emails on big shot Miller's PC, right?"

Elvis: "That is correct, sir."

Bashir: "I see. It's just as well. Monster probably ain't been able to do diddly shit with me anyway. But hey, Elvis. I think you fellers ought to know....one o' these emails here says your days might be numbered! Seems the Chinese are starting to open call centers, and one of em's got employees willing to work for just a cup of coffee and a pack of juji fruits a month. You guys need should think about lowering your salaries! Mr. Miller cain't keep payin' y'all 5 bucks a week! It's a sinkin' economy over here, if you ain't heard."

Elvis: (Indignantly) "Well we have a living to make too sir. We can not lower our salaries any further."

Bashir: "Ayuh. I understand. Well maybe you could hook up with a French company or somethin'. They'll pay extra for any service that pisses off Americans. Take care there Blue Hawaii! I'll catch you on the flip side!"

(click)

Okay, I admit it. I am Bashir Ibn Fahad and as for Jonathan Miller, Andrea Jung, and all the other CEOs who sell out their employees, in the spirit of saving a few bucks which they NEVER pass on to the consumer, may you experience irreversible crotch rot!

And goodnight to you, Elvis...wherever you are.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

SCHOOL DAYS with numbsain



My first day at school was definitely a learning experience. First thing I learned was that kindergarten didn't have a detention hall or a juvenile hall. I'm like; “Where are they gonna send me, to jail?" The kids were all total wimps. Even the bully was only passive aggressive. He wouldn't
take your lunch money, he'd sit there and stare at it and say "Are you gonna spend all that on lunch?"

I had already mastered milk & cookies and naptime was a total yawn...Actually, nap time was upskirts time! Checkin' out teachers kinder garters! I may have been only five, but I knew a hot mama when I saw one. I mean girlfriend had some tiggity ol' biggity's and a ba-dunk-a-dunk bootoogity to boot. They called me David Cop-a-feel cause I used slight-of-hand.

Show and tell? Sheeit, I had that shit down. But I'm like; “If I'm showing the damn thing why the hell do I have to tell about it too?” It should be show
“or” tell. Or in my case, when I showed, they'd usually tell. Other kids would be like;

“Today, I brought a fuzzy little...” And I'd be like;
“Yeah, no shit Sherlock. We can see it's a frikkin' bunny., yo shit is old.” So he'd go;
“Well, do you know what rabbits do more than any other animal?” I'd be all;
“Hey, hey, hey! That was what I was gonna show! Set yo monkey ass down!”

So then it's my turn. I get up there;
“Allright how y'all doin' tonight? I'll need help from an audience member, you there miss, what's your name, darlin?' ...Tiffany? Your dad in the jewelry business? No? Well I'd love to have breakfast with you sometime. Should I call you or just nudge you? You know you're very beautiful, Tiffany. Come right on up here. Why don't you go ahead and take off your clothes for me, sweetheart.” The teacher's all like;
“NUMBSAIN!!” So I'm like;
“SHUT UP BITCH! I got the stage for 3 minutes, you got the whole damn rest of the show why you gotta step on my shit? OW! Easy on the ear, I just had that pierced!” She's like;
“Enough of your lip!” So I'm like;
“I'm gettin that done tomorrow!” So she's all;
“Are you quite finished young man.” So I go;
“I'm gettin' my Prince Albert this weekend and then I'm done.”

So they made a little makeshift detention hall just for me. I broke outta that shit in a minute. It got better though. It just took some adjustment from all the sex and violence at home. I thought all chicks were like mom and it was a shock the first time I saw a girl without a penis. Kindergarten ended up being pretty easy for me. Especially by the third time, I had that shit down. But the important thing that school taught me was socialization. I didn't realize that with teachers, kids aren't supposed to talk back...or talk dirty...or break into their house and rape them, nobody told me this.

I mean, she's all turned around writin' on the blackboard in those big cursive swirls that make that fine-ass booty jiggle just ever so slightly in that tight wool skirt with the VPL and all, LAWD HAVE MERCY! Then when she bends over my desk to give me a gold star and I get that little peek of cleavage, DAYUM! It's enough to make a five year old like me get pubic hair...in my teeth! You better not make me stand up and then make me stand up in front of the class.

I'll never forget the time I brought her an apple and she thought it had a worm in it. That ain't no worm, baby’. Give me a few years and I'll bring you a watermelon with an anaconda in it! Scared the shit outta me when she bent over to take a bite.

Other kids had scholastic achievement stickers on the cars. Ours had one:

“MY SON AIN'T SHIT OF THE MONTH”

Then later, I did well in high school. For tests, I always scored the best grade possible and came in higher than any other student. I was the head of the class. With the stuff I had, I was wasted at that school that's why I had trouble focusing sometimes. But when times were tough I just dealt. And I grew a lot and it was all good.

I realized the academic subjects taught in elementary school were so elementary, it was academic whether I learned them or not. When I graduated though, it did bring out a side of me they hadn't seen before...my backside!

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

The Poetry of Napoleon Christ- Literary Genius


Napoleon Christ is the recently discovered talent of Goldmind's Unwind. We've searched almost every mental institution in the country looking for literary talent unequaled in the field of published prose. What we found is that there is no deeper, more artistic, or drool filled writer on the planet than one Napoleon Christ. We offer one of his submissions here for your approval.

Diarrhetoric


I scream! I cry!
I put horseradish on hair pie!
I melt! I fry!
I've tried the cream of sumyung gai
The birds, they scream,
the worms, they dance
Now who the hell
just shit my pants?
The orderly is bald and fat,
and when I play with poop,
well, he hates that!
The voices scream inside my head,
My penis may as well be dead,
for all the good it's doing me,
just dangling there,
even when I pee.
I know that they're all watching me
Even though they think that I can't see
but I keep secrets skillfully
and store my drugs up anally
until the day they release me
back into society
Oh my God what was that sound?!!
what is that smell that's wafting 'round?
what is that rumbling in the ground?
It's nurse O'rourke, and pound for pound
She's the largest beast I've ever found
to cuddle with on my small cot.
Thanks to the state it's all I've got,
Except for a case of bad dry rot
and a rusted out old chamber pot,
where every night I sit and squat,
and mumble my forget-me-nots.
And struggle hard not to weep
From lack of freedom, lack of sleep
Why oh why did I chase that sheep
and offer it my heart to keep?
Now I'm married to the wooly creep,
and do you think that she'd come visit me?
To see how miserable I can be?
even stoned on prozac or PCP?
'cuz though I'm locked up, my heart's still free?
Come here O'rourke! I need titty!
Time to suckle.
Time to cry.
Time to kiss my ass goodbye
Until I write again
you fools!
You can all swing from
my family Jewels!


-Napoleon Christ-

Unknowable Trivia Quiz


Here's a test to see if you know things you can't possibly know. Why? Because no one knows, besides the person who the question is about. But you never know.

How does Stevie Wonder perceive the color blue?
  1. As a gentle rocking motion from side to side.
  2. As a cool wetness with a slightly minty freshness.
  3. As the feeling of being an old man whose dog done up and left town with another man and his woman done got hit by a truck too.
  4. As red.
How powerful is Oprah?
  1. She is the most powerful entity in the universe, even more powerful than God but he still won’t be a guest on her show.
  2. She controls the FCC, all the networks and she owns a small country whose borders are defined by the outermost extremes of her butt.
  3. She can bend spoons with her mind and the hair on her cats back frizzes up when she stares at him but that’s about it.
  4. She can bench press 208 pounds and she squats 450.
How old is Tom jones?
  1. 475 years old and he’s from Transylvania.
  2. 89 but he keeps himself looking young by making tea from all the panties thrown on stage.
  3. The current Tom Jones is 26 years old. There have been 17 different Tom Joneses throughout his career.
  4. Old enough to know better than to wear those pants.
What does Britney Spears fantasize about?
  1. Going on stage wearing clothes and singing well.
  2. Getting arrested, thrown into a holding cell, stripped naked, hosed down and raped by 7 officers then left alone to escape and break into the storage room where they keep the confiscated drugs, doing them all, getting caught and the whole ordeal starts all over again.
  3. Being Celine Dion.
  4. Getting photographed sitting in a short skirt with no panties on and spreading her... oh, nevermind.
What is Michael Jackson thinking?
  1. A black man. No not a black man, a white man. Yes, yes NO! A white... woman YES, YES! A white woman...yes WAIT! A... Alien YES! That’s it! An alien, yes... Do aliens have noses?
  2. I’ll show them. I have to show them the true me, because they don’t know the true me. They must see who I really am, past this facade. I must strip away the facade...
  3. I just want to cuddle with him, that’s all. How much could it cost?
  4. Feathers do filthy cold beatings. Pressure? Hand roof tile me you big wheely bar! my agent smells of lilac. Green wolves meet tonight in dashes of pillow monkeys. True. Come on Kevin, we have old barn flies ticking. Smile portly mister miser...
What would Abraham Lincoln say if he were alive today?
  1. A crackhouse divided against itself cannot stand... and besides I aint scored in seven years, can I get some hos all up in this beeyotch.
  2. How did could this happen? This is a joke right? A penny? And they put Ben on the C-note? But why? I realize I’m no Adonis but... a penny?
  3. I knew it was a mistake to emancipate them. Now they’re taking over!
  4. ...But my favorite one isthe Big & Nasty! Oh, sorry, yes I meant Big & Tasty and the restaurant is Scottish I believe... Can we go again?
What really happened with the whole Richard Gere thing?
  1. Hi doc, I’ve got a pimple on my back. (Psst It’s Richard Gere, I heard him say he has a pimple on his ass) (What? Richard Gere has some purple on his ass?) (I just heard Richard Gere has a pickle up his ass)... [later that day] What I heard was, apparently Richard Gere stuck a gerbil up his ass.
  2. “I need work, how about a publicity stunt? Anything, just to get people talking about me.” “Anything?” “I don’t care what it is, just get my name out there!” “O-o-k-a-a-ay...”
  3. Damn! It won’t come out! Honey would you drive me to the doctor? No it’s not the cat again, I’m not stupid.
  4. Look, My maid found a suppository I dropped in the bathroom. If she would do her damn job it wouldn’t have had fuzz all over it!
What does Donald Trump do when he’s all alone?
  1. Dumps a few wheelbarrows full of money out on the bed and then jumps up and down in it yelling “I’m Rich! I’m Rich!”
  2. He looks in the mirror and says: You like me? Do you know who I am? YOU DON’T!?
  3. He wanders around his mansion looking for something interesting to play with, gets frustrated and ends up on the floor with GI Joe going; “Pkew! Pkew! A- a- a- a- a-! Gotchoo sucka!
  4. Flips through a copy of Seventeen Magazine looking for his next wife to buy.
How many stars are their in the universe?
  1. It is not known because of our inability to travel great distances but we do know that most of them live in Hollywood. Someday scientists hope to use technology to chart all of the stars and give them each a gold star on Hollywood's “Walk of Fame.”
  2. It would be impossible because the extents of the universe are infinite and as time distorts space, many of the stars whose light we see now, have burned out millions of years ago.
  3. 75,000 total but by using mirrors and prerecorded video, it looks like alot more. Also they are constantly being recycled which is why there is no parking on your street between 8am and 10am Tuesdays.
  4. It depends on what country, state and city you live in. In Los Angeles there are three to 7 stars in the sky on any given night. The rest are police helicopters. In the “Outback” of Australia, the Aborigines may enjoy as many as 4 billion discernible stars on the same night. Which doesn’t mean they’re so much better than us, they just get more stars. So what, we have more crack ho’s and some of them even twinkle.
Where is Waldo's penis?
  1. Sticking out of a hairy patch just below his naval.
  2. In Mrs. Waldos mouth. Waldo ran out the door a while ago.
  3. In a safe deposit box in Switzerland
  4. Waldo has no penis. His real name is Hillary Clinton
Who writes this crap?
  1. Who the hell knows?
  2. Who the hell cares?
  3. What the hell is this stuff on my shoe?
  4. I think he’s kind of cute and funny and he’s really good in bed! Tee-hee, giggle. Come back to bed Numbsain. You can play with your silly blog later. I want you NOW! Tee-hee... (GASP!) NUMBSAIN! Oh My! That’s HUGE! I’ve never seen such a big zit on your back. Can I pop it honey? Ple-e-ase?

Sunday, February 24, 2008

A Quick Word About Stutterers

Since Porky Pig first amused us with his inabilty to utter a simple phrase at the end of a cartoon, we’ve mocked, mimicked, made fun of, laughed at, ridiculed, hurried and generally harrassed people who stutter.

Perhaps it’s because, technically, they haven’t told us not to yet. Or it could be how sad and pathetic they sound struggling to say even simplest little thing. Like
“J- J- J- JERK!” Even though many feel we should be patient and polite to the stutterer, who really suffers most, them or us?

How do you say “fine thank you” to a person who takes a minute and a half to ask “how are you?” Do you look them straight in the eye and not blink as though, for that moment, time stood still for us as well? Do you finish their sentence for them since they’re obviously too stupid to form words? Or do you look at your watch impatiently, tsking and sighing because the person you really wanted to talk to has walked away... and gone home... and died of old age? It’s not easy to listen to a stutterer and not worry about your meter running out and your car getting a ticket... or getting towed... or getting rusty.

For example, there was a boy in school who we called; “Hooked on Phonix.” He would tell the teacher he had finished his test by saying, “Duh-duh-duh-done! Now, how can you not think of Beethovens 9th? Or sometimes he'd be trying to talk to you and just stand there with his lips carefully shaped to form a word and his finger in the air. People would start looking at his finger... or what he’s pointing at... or the dirt under his nail. I saw one person actually sniff his finger, they were so bored.

We all knew he used it to his advantage. The teacher would call on him because he could raise his hand just fine, but when he got up to give the answer, all he had to do was go “uh-uh-uh-uh” until one of the other kids who actually knew the answer got impatient and blurted it out. Then he’d just nod in agreement like that was what he was gonna say. What a bullshit artist. Then the teacher would say “Very good Hooked” and the guy who actually knew the answer would get a: “I’ll see you after class young man.”

It’s hard being around a “verbal false-starter” in any situation where time is a factor. On the phone; “Please begin recording your message now.” ...“We’re sorry we did not record your message, either because you were not speaking or because you were stuttering...or because you swallowed your tongue.”

Who wants to make a long distance call to a stutterer? Or let them order at the drive-up window; “Welcome to Quickie Burger can I take your order please?” “Buh buh buh buh buh” “Okay that’s one Bubba Burger, no bubbas and extra bubba. Would you like a bubba with that?”

It’s a known fact that stutterers can sing just fine. Which proves they’re doing it on purpose. Just to get you to hang on their every word...as they do. You’ve got a clear statement to convey but you’ve got wait till Mr. Reluctant gives his long awaited opinion. It’s also been proven that most stutterers are boys who have been sexually molested. Well what do you expect if you never say “Stop.”

“Hey kid, mind if I sodomize you? Well, yes or no? Tell you what, I’ll start and you tell me if it’s a problem. It’s alright? ...I’ll take that as a yes? If you don’t like it, just say the word. So I guess you’re fine with this, eh? Just lemme know if you want me to stop. No? Alright, say no more, silence is golden. Well it was fun. Don’t mention it, the pleasure was all mine. Anything you need before I go? No? Alright see ya later, Patrick.”

And then a minute later:
“C- c- cut it out F- F- F- F- Father F- F- F- F- Fitzpatrick!”

By numbsain. Note: We at Goldmind’s Unwind apologize for being insensitive and if you are a stutterer and you were offended by this, we deeply apologize. You should have said something.

Saturday, February 23, 2008

How I Joined the Circus


When I was a kid, my Uncle Lester, a practicing pedophile, took me to the circus. Wow! It left a big impression on me. Even more than what Uncle Lester did to me afterward, which wasn’t too bad since the Lord wasn’t exactly good to him.

What I saw under the big top amazed me! I still to this day love the smell of elephant dung. After seeing the trapeze artists, I’d play on the swings and end up flying through the air with the greatest of ease! I just didn’t land with the greatest of ease. Once I landed on a retard. His mom probably would have believed it was an honest mistake if she hadn’t caught me doing to him what Uncle Lester taught me. And the Lord was quite good to me. Apparently he didn’t care much for that retard. But when I grew up and got out of juvy, I joined the circus!

It all started whe-bleh-bleh-bleh...
[That’s the special flashback fade-out effect]


I knocked on the Ringmaster’s trailer door. The rocking stopped and five clowns ran out zipping up their pants. The Great Ringmaster came out rubbing his behind and asked,

“You a Carney, boy?”
“I’ll eat anything, sir.” I said.
“Close enough.” He muttered, “Walk this way.” I did my best but I had to ask,
“Did you know my Uncle Lester?”
“No, when I was a kid I jumped on my bike one morning and someone had stolen the seat.”

He took me over to the little tent with the tall barbed-wire fence.
“Ever lion-train before, boy?” He asked.
“In juvy, we did both.” I said.
“No, I mean work with big cats.” He said.
“Just Fluffy my pet but I couldn't get him to do squat.” I told him.
“I have an opening for a clown.” He say's. So I say,
“Looked to me like you had an opening for five clowns.” And he goes,
“Well, I need a sixth.” So I'm all,
“C’mon man, you’re already walkin' funny.”

We went over to the little tent with the beer cans all around it and he introduced me to the clowns;

“Flapjacks, Pincushion, Bubbles, Sweetypuss, Peepee, I’d like you to meet your new colleague, uh, what’s your name boy?”
“Oh Shit! (I hadn’t thought of a good clown name yet)
“Nice to meet you, O’Shit!” they all said in unison.
“Hey let’s practice driving!” Said Pincushion.
“Driver!”
“Shotgun!”
“Left Window!”
“Right Window!”
“Trunk!” They each shouted.
“Ash Tray!” I shouted.

The car was no bigger than a mailbox. They all folded up their arms and legs and stuffed them into their mouths and behind their ears. I don’t want to know what Sweetypuss did with her right leg. They start squeezing themselves in and oh what a racket, the honking and whoopie cushions.
“Who’s flower just squirted me in the eye.” I said
“Sorry that wasn’t a flower, that was just me, tee hee.” Peepee said.
I tried to get in, but there was no room.
“New guy, everybody out!”
They all got out and started twisting me into a preztel. Somehow we all got in but I had to take off my band-aid to fit. Bubbles was reminding me of Uncle Lester.
“Now we circle the tent right?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, I just gotta pick up a pack of smokes first.” Said Pincushion as we started getting on the freeway. Then Peepee announced,
“I gotta go, again!” I wasn’t concerned, having been annointed.
“Fasten your seatbelts everybody, this Mini Cooper wants to race.” We made it back in one piece...but we pried ourselves apart. Fortunately Peepee doused Pincushions cigarette but I knew clownery wasn’t for me.
“Sorry guy’s, I just don’t fit in.” They were sad to see me go and the tears started flowing. Peepee shimmied up my back, sat on my head and gave me one last squirt for good luck.

Only jobs left were either the Flying Krakaboni Brothers or the Human-Flaming-Cannonball into a Venti-Latte. I really wanted to be in the circus and it was better than aiming for an espresso shot. I climbed into the barrel and before I could adjust my helmet, I’m blazing through the air like a crippled Fokker in a dog fight! At my apogee I looked down and, to my horror, the barista had forgotten to write my name on the Starbucks cup!



Luckily I spotted a nice pudgy retard to land on. They all loved me! Except the retard. But it's okay, retards don’t feel pain the way we do. Anyway, one day I was helping out with the elephants and got an idea. Did you know an elephant has two trunks? At least the bulls do. I now knew how to repay Uncle Lester after all these years. I convinced the old pervert to be the hindquarters of my elephant costume. He couldn’t see back there so he didn’t realize I’d walked him over and backed him up right in front of the bull elephants pen. His epitaph says;

“HERE LIES DUMBO’S BITCH, THE WORLDS BIGGEST ASSHOLE”

Friday, February 22, 2008

Why you should Pickapetaperson? (Pick a PETA person)

Lonely? Been single for a while? Tired of playing the bar hopping game? Well.....usually it's not the policy of Goldmind's unwind to offer dating advice, but since we've tried it first hand, guys, let us recommend that you.........pickapetaperson!!!!! Here's why:


1. Your personal PETA person (PPP) is always ready to protest at the drop of a bloody slaughterhouse axe! This means that whoosh! Off come the clothes and whoosh! Up go the "naked for fur" signs! Gentlemen! What more could you ask for? A ready made naked date! Talk about compliant!


2. Your PPP is against EVERYTHING fur. That means she (or he if that's your flavor) will be shaved. "There". KnowwhatI"msayin?


3. Remember those expensive dates where you had to spring for "the lobster" or "the fillet Mignon" just for a 30% chance of getting those panties off? Not anymore! Your PPP will only require that you spring for "the house salad" or "the asparagus stalk"! And there's a 100% chance you'll get those panties off! Because she's not wearing any! In case of a protest!


4. By their very nature, PETA people tend to reject the natural order of things. Use this to your advantage! Introduce an entire vegetable garden into your foreplay! Marry her sister to a sheep! Have a weekly regression day where you are aloud to act apelike without repercussion! A little chaos is good for every relationship.


5. Her parents getting on your nerves? EASY solution. Slip a couple of LL Bean catalogues onto her parents' coffee table when no one is looking. Then make a big fuss over them. Your PPP will be so enraged she'll cut herself off from her family indefinitely!


6. Get caught cheating? No problem....just tell your PPP that, in the dark, you thought your mistress was a poodle. Be prepared for a tearful apology session for her overreaction from your PPP.


7. Tired of nagging or talk about "feelings" in the middle of your football game? Just tell your PPP at kickoff time that the local Walmart started introducing real fur into their winter wear. While she's gone protesting and getting arrested, enjoy your game in peace. Just rember to post bail the next time you're horny.


8. Her parents REALLY pissing you off? Take a baseball bat to them. Then immediately go tell your PPP that you saw her father kick a dog while her mom laughed. She won't even call the cops on you.


9. Growing old with your PPP is enjoyable too. If she gets Alzheimer's, you can feed her bites of hamburger hash while you smile deep in your wicked heart.


10. If you ever get really bored, photoshop a mink shawl over your PPP's favorite singer/actress. Then leave the picture lying around in an obvious place. Just sit back and watch the hysterical tears pour out as yet another great joy of her life is stripped from her.


All in all gents, you can't beat a good old fun loving PPP for a life mate. If you can get used to eating all that roughage and pooping out little raisins for the rest of your life, then you'll find no person more loyal, naive, and ridiculously open to manipulation than your PPP. Oh. And Naked too. Did I mention naked?

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Jiblitz & Gravy get “Jacked-Up”


Howdy Lemon Squeezers, Welcome to
Jiblitz & Gravy get “JACKED-UP”

Gravy: I'm Jiblitz!

Jiblitz: And I'm Gravy!

Gravy: Wanna squeeze the most outta yer lemon? We're the new ve-HICK-ular Auto-motivational Goo-roos so fergit about them Poop Boys and Aamco; you Aain'tco no more!

Jiblitz: You ain't just slappin' yer mud flaps Grav', all them other car me-Can’t-ics don't know their tranny from their fanny! If you got a Bentley we'll unbend it. If ya ding yer fender we'll give it the finger and offend it. If yer motor ain't motor-vated we'll git ‘er purrin’ like chicken quicker’n you can say...

Gravy: Whoa, whoa, whoa! Jiblitz, did you just say "purrin like a chicken?"

Jiblitz: I did.

Gravy: Okay, just chicken.

Jiblitz: Now, Here we got a 1999 Camaro. Thirst fling to do is to check the fluids. Pull out that dipstick...

Gravy: Joo just call me a dipshit?

Jiblitz: Not dipshit, stick-dick, DIP STICK! but if the shtick stinks, stick it where the ship don't sink! Shit man, think!

Gravy: HUH?!

Jiblitz: Nevermind, this son of a Mitzubishi done stalled on the crawlway
an' I had to call Triple-B fer a slow schmuck in a tow truck

Gravy: Triple-B?

Jiblitz: I cain't afford Triple-A

Gravy: How's the car-burrito and the park splugs

Jiblitz: Couldn't find 'em cuz the damn fool-injectors were in the way.

Gravy: It's gotta be sump'm in the drive train

Jiblitz: Where's that?

Gravy: that's everythang from the motor to the differential

Jiblitz: What's the differential?

Gravy: Oh, it makes a big differential. otherwise it could be electrical.

Jiblitz: There was a minor altercation when the altercater tried to assault the battery and I heard the steerin' column a rear axe-hole and that shocks the sensors so the master cylinder struts in with Rod and the main bearings and they're piston call the lug nuts for starters so the hub caps off and belts the hose right in the clutch and they can't condenser to coolant so they muffler with the airbag, but she had a nice rack in my 'pinion. I'd odometer right now in fact...

Gravy: BAD GASKET JIBLITZ!! Exhaust pipe down an' cruise control yerself!

Jiblitz: Sorry Grav' ...forget the Camaro and take a looky lube at my El Camino.

Gravy: Uh-oh El Caminonly one thing...

Jiblitz: El Comonover here.

Gravy: Whats wrong with it?

Jiblitz: It just keeps breakin'

Gravy: even when you take yer foot off?

Jiblitz: Take my foot off!?

Gravy: it won't stop brakin' til ya take your foot off.

Jiblitz: But I like my foot?

Gravy: Just give it a break.

Jiblitz: then I'll have a broken foot!

Gravy: Not your foot, steppid: don't stoop on the brake!

Jiblitz: I ain't steppid on it

Gravy: And did it brake?

Jiblitz: Nope

Gravy: Then whyja think we need brakes?

Jiblitz: Cause we work too hard!

Well, that's our chauffeur today. Stay tuned-up for next time when we'll welcome NASCAR champion Ernest Dalehardt—He's got a real nass car and we're gwanna rip it apart and have a li'l fun wit 'im.

GOODNIGHT! DRIVE CRAZY!

Jiblitz & Gravy was brought to you by:
Guy Co. Muff divers
Peep Boys Auto & Body Parts
EZ lubed Girls
Shotgun Charlie's Pick Yer Part and Run...“If you can git outta here alive wit it, it's yours!”

by numbsain

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

FORTUNE COOKIES





COMMON MYTHS ABOUT FORTUNE COOKIES DISPELLED:


Myth:
Fortune cookies are chosen very carefully by a psychic Chinese person in the attic of the restaurant who watches each customer and channels their thoughts. He then invokes the spirit of Buddha to choose the correct wisdom for that person. Then he writes and typesets the fortune on a little piece of paper and threads it into the cookie which is made from rice flour and spit and then the waiter brings it to you so that you can read it and add "in bed" to the end of it, making a total mockery of this time-honored tradition. This is why its so dangerous to trade fortune cookies.
Fact: That's a bunch of bullshit, they just pull them out of a bag randomly.
Myth: Confucius was a wise teacher of ancient Chinese philosophy who invented a religion called Confucianism.
Fact: They just spelled “confusion” wrong.
Myth: Fortune cookies are edible.
Fact: They're cardboard.
Myth: The lottery numbers on the back of the fortune are real winning numbers.
Fact: The numbers on the back of fortunes are actually a secret code used by the Xian Dynasty to communicate clandestine plans while operating in the western world.
Myth: There is nothing sexual about the shape of a fortune cookie.
Fact: There is something sexual about the shape of a fortune cookie.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

A random encounter somehwere deep in space....

(I wrote this sci-fi tale to answer a few questions that I've always had. For instance, why is humanity the only species depicted that has it's share of rednecks? And what will a woman's nagging in the car be like during intergalactic travel? And how many times can I make a reader say the word "poop" verbally or mentally. I think all questions have been adequately answered)

A spaceship landed in the desert of the planet Martok, and such a sight created quite a stir among the scattered residents there.
"Dy'all see that?" Gar poop yelled, scaring off their pet slarg in the process.
"Don't panic! Let's just see what all this to-do is about!" Pa poop responded, waiving his tentacles in a calming gesture.
There was a murmur of excited assent from the poop children as they all contemplated just what this landing would mean. And who exactly had landed for that matter. As a group they all waddled towards the craft in the distance, whispering amongst themselves and gesturing with an extremity or four.
"Do ya think they'll try and probe us?" Fuggle poop asked. "I never want to get probed!"
"They wouldn't probe you for all the cheese coins in Martok bank, Fuggle. Ya ain't had a shower this decade!" Gar teased. Being the oldest brother, it was his place in the family to do the heckling.
"I orta slap you in the ear lobe Gar poop!" Fuggle yelled.
"Ewwww! Fuggle said ear lobe pa!" tattled the youngest, Gia poop.
"Enough pooplings! We ain't fixin to show these beings who the inferior race is now are we? Let's show em some desert class ded gummit!"
"Yes Pa," they all intoned.
As they all came upon the alien craft, they were greeted by quite a spectacle. Two pinkish colored creatures, standing on just two legs and gesturing with just two arms were apparently arguing with each other outside the hull of the smoking vessel.
"Don't that beat all, Bob Williams! You told me we had pleny of fuel to reach the megalon galaxy, and now look at this here? Where the hell is this here? Crashlanded and out of fuel on some godforsaken planet! These things wouldn't happen if you'd just listen to me for once and get gas at a quarter of a tank! For crying out loud! I should have listened to my mother and married Fred Bowling! At least that man would know how to read a gas guage!"
"Yes Martha," the much put upon pink thing named "Bob" said. He looked around and noticed the poops gathered around staring at him. He gave them a weary sigh and lifted a large red container in their direction.
"Do you all have a gas station around here?" he asked.
"Yup," Pa Poop said. He was still trying to make heads or tails of this goofy looking pink thingwith the gas can and the nagging wife.
"They seem friendly enough," Gar whispered from behind Pa.
"They look TOO friendly to me!" Fuggle said. "She's just about got her mouth in his ear....ewwwwwwww."
"Hesh now," Pa whispered. "Let's not rile her up any further." For his part, Pa felt a little sorry for poor pink Bob and was very leery of the nagging thing with brown hair and little windshields over her eyes. He stuffed his hands in his overalls and prepared to offer Bob an escort to the gas dump.
But Martha was back to ranting. "How do you even know their fuel will work on our ship, huh Bob? Do you ever think at all before you rush head long into these things?"
"I don't know if they're fuel will work Martha. But I don't see any other humans around, and these people here are clearly not human."
"And when did you first notice the difference, Bob? Hmm? You better be careful. Your PHD is showing!"
"Yes Martha," Bob said, rolling his eyes.
"Pa?" Gar whispered. "Could this REALLY be intelligent life from outer space?"
"Well, Gar," Pa responded. "Look on the bright side. At least none of us are getting probed......."

Monday, February 18, 2008

Manny & Girly... the Spam of Humans



Manny is a pair of testicles with a guy dangling from it. He saves the hair from his nose and glues it to his chest. People tell him he smells bad but he says his nose works fine. When he’s full of excuses he asks to be excused. Nothing is his fault except the fact that he has no friends. He used to do drugs, he still does, but he used to also. He never met a woman he wasn’t attracted to. He has four lazy eyes. He's having a bad face day.

Girly is a pair of lopsided boobs with a flabby ass hanging off the back. She can get guys to do anything they want to do. She wants to be a supermodel, she could be three. She never understood men but she's never been put in a position where that mattered. The best thing about her face is her make-up. Deodorant is defenseless against her. She once O.D.’ed on “the-morning-after” pill. She’s a bedwetter but only when she’s sleeping. She’s a good cook but nobody knows that because she’s an even better eater.

Manny likes sports, he reads about all of them. He knows how to talk to women, he used to just stare and drool. He hired a nude maid service to clean his place while he was out of town. He gets a new job every week. Cats and dogs love to roll in him and he eats their food. He has broad shoulders and little kid arms. He shaves recreationally. Clothes look better on the rack than they do on him.

Girly has a bathing suit for every occasion except swimming. She stuffs her bra...into her mouth. She never spends money on herself because she isn’t worth it. Ugly looks good next to her but she looks smart next to stupid. She buys a pair of edible panties for every day of the year and has one for dinner every night. She knows how to scare away rapists without wasting her mace. She told her therapist she didn’t want to bother him with her problems. She wears sexy shoes but they don’t help.

Manny does steroids to watch TV. He has an eight-track tape player in his Chevy Nova. He watches infomercials because they're educational. He buys a six-pack of beer with pennies. No one ever invites him to come over to their place and hang out. He gives people the finger when they let him cut in. He chews gum louder than he talks. His socks match in the drawer but not when he puts them on. He fantasizes about deformed chicks. He has big red zits on his back and he goes shirtless often. He’s so dyslexic he pushes the wrong direction on the elevator.

Girly
got stuck on an escalator for an hour and a half once. She bought a years supply of fresh squeezed orange juice. She doesn’t want to have sex until she starts dating. She buys houseplants and eats them. She quits smoking every night. She uses newspaper in the bathroom. Guys don’t take advantage of her no matter how easy she makes it for them. When she describes her body, she say’s she has a nice face. When she describes her face, she says she has a nice personality. When she describes her personality, she says she has a job.

Manny
tries to hit on telemarketers. He likes people who are shorter than him. He asks girls with big tits if they know what time it is. He doesn’t drink socially because he thinks it’s rude. He brags about his sperm count and bought a microscope so he could count them. He scratches himself even when he doesn’t itch. He misses the mullet. There are better looking guys than him...only. He considers himself to be average smartness. He wants to be a McDonalds cashier but he doesn't have the confidence yet.

Manny and Girly. Sad byproducts of society that should have been thrown back right from the get go. But when you think about it, they're not really so different from you and me are they... Just kidding! They're two of the best arguments for no-age-limit abortion you'll ever see. A waste of toilet paper. But we can't just shoot them, they're people, they have just as much right to live as the rest of us. So what do we do with a couple of good for nothin' sacks o' shit like Manny and Girly. Well, that's what Goldmind's Unwind is all about. We make fun of them and thus give their lives meaning and purpose. After all if you can't laugh at those less fortunate than ourselves... what the hell good are they?

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Live From Madison Square Garden



And in this corner... fighting out of green trunks with yellow stripes... wearing a smug overconfident grin... from El Paso Texas... weighing in at 210 pounds... the challenger...

PAN-CH-O-O-O
“THE PIÑ-A-T-AAAAAA”
PA-CHE-C-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-OOooo!


And in this corner... fighting out of blue trunks with pink stripes and fire trucks with little dalmations wearing fireman hats and holding ladders... wearing sensible shoes... from Bullpenis Iowa... weighing in at 218 pounds... the champion...

BOY-E-E-ER
“THE DE-STROY-E-E-ER”
SAW-W-Y-Y-E-E-E-E-R-RRRRrrrrrrr


Ref: Now fighters you know the deal, I want a good, clean fight. Nothin’ dirty. No funny stuff, no silly stuff, no hitting below the belt, no belting below the hit, no biting below the ears, no clenching, no clutching, no hugging, no kissing, no spitting, no pissing, no loitering, no soliciting, no parking anytime, no taking cuts in line, no name calling, no tattling, no chewing gum, and no running in the halls, keep your guard up, chin down, chest up and butt out! Take a swing at me I’ll shove my whistle up yer ass and you’ll be farting high C, you hear me? Now get in yer corners and stay there ‘till the bell... And did you two go to the bathroom first?

Pancho: Shit, I forgot, dude...

Ref: What?!

Pancho: I’m just messing witchoo Holmes!

Ref: Grrr...

Boyer: I’m gonna knock the skittles outta you Piñata!

Pancho: May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits you misanthropic troglodyte! I’m gonna make you my girlfriend...

Boyer: Not without dinner and a movie first!

Pancho: Yeah? Whattaya like? there’s a romantic comedy playing at the Lumiere.

Ref:
Alright break it up ladies.

[Ding Ding]

The fighters are circling, squaring off, triangulating, Pancho testing his range with a few scales, he’s a little rusty on the high notes, Boyer looks a little chicken, he’s ducking, ducking, now he’s goosing Pancho, the ref doesn’t like that, he gets a little jealous, Pancho seems to like it. Neither boxer really connecting... At least not on a real, emotional level. There’s Pancho with a little combination, looks like a cheese enchilada and a beef taco. Boyers bobbing and weaving... He’s crocheting a little doily, now he throws a wild right, Pancho throws it back, now he throws a shoe, Boyer sizes him up, checks his inseam, Pancho moves in, he pays his first and last months rent but Boyer want’s a cleaning deposit, Pancho’s dancing, he leads with a left, Boyer dips him.
Now Pancho does a two step and he’s really swingin’ but he misses Boyer, he looks kind of sad, Boyer misses him too, they get back together, They’re talking.

Pancho: Hey Sawyer, I saw yer wife last night

Boyer: Yeah, I saw your boyfriend last night.

Pancho: Yeah, well I saw yer momma last night

Boyer: Oh yeah, well I saw your parole officer last night

Pancho: Well I saw your pecker last night, all two inches of it.

Boyer: Yeah that’s cause you had the other eight in your mouth.

Pancho: Really, I thought that was a piece of dental floss.

DING!


And they go to their corners. Boyers trainer Bruce Allswell goes to work on Boyers eye with the endswell, Boyer grabs it and he won’t give it back. Boyers coach tells Boyer to give Allswell that endswell.

Meanwhile Pancho’s standing up in his corner. His trainer is checking out his equipment, he’s not impressed. Pancho takes a drink, he swishes it around in his mouth and spits it out, He doesn’t care for the bouquet of that vintage. The coach brings him an ’05 Bouchon Cabernet Sauvignon, He checks the color. He’s letting it aerate...

DING!

Pancho comes out circling the ring, Boyer comes out circling the other way, not looking where he’s going, They collide in the middle, they trade insurance information, now they start trading punches, they trade a few recipes, then back to punches.
Pancho with a left,
Boyer with a right,
a left,
a right,
a left,
a right,
left,
right,
left,
right,
ten HUT!
Abo-o-out face!
Forwa-a-a-ard Harch!
And they’re marching around the ring.
Boyer breaks formation and nails Pancho with a crushing uppercut.
The challenger is stunned, he’s dazed, he’s confused.
He’s bewitched, bothered and bewildered,
he’s bedazzled, he’s bamboozled, he’s befuddled,
he’s totally discombobulated! Wait! Now he’s recombobulated.
Pancho’s shaking out the cobwebs,
he’s walking it off, he’s getting his bearings,
he stops and asks for directions, he pulls out a map, he’s back on track.
He signals he’s okay, he shrugs it off, and then he falls down flat on his face.
He gets the three count. One! ...Two! ...Two and a half!... Two and three quarters!
Boyer doesn’t like what he sees and he walks over and drop kicks the ref in the nuts!
Then he starts stomping on Pancho’s head. That wakes him up! Pancho’s gotten to his knees, he pulls out a little box, he opens it, it’s a RING!

Pancho: Boyer, will you marry me, Dude?

Boyer: Yes, Pancho. I will marry you! I.. I love you man!

This is beautiful! Boyer accepts! He helps pancho to his feet. They’re about to kiss! Ladies and gentleman this is truly a touching moment...

Oohh! And Pancho delivers a CRUSHING right to the chin of the champion! And Boyer hits the canvas like a 30 pound sack of monkey shit! And he’s out like a fop at a gay pride parade! AMAZING! The crowd goes WILD!!!

And the winner! By a knockout, at the end of round two... The new heavyweight champion of the world...

PAN-CH-O-O-O
“THE PIÑ-A-T-AAAAAA”
PA-CHE-C-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-OOooo!


by numbsain

Saturday, February 16, 2008

What's that disease old people get?



“I’m finally all alone. The kids, the wife, the dog, the kids, the wife, did I mention the dog? They’ve all left for the weekend. Can't remember last time I had the whole place to myself for a whole week. Now I can do what I've been wanting to do for years. What was it I was gonna do? Well, I’ll think of it, I’ve got the whole summer all to myself. First I'll catch up on my reading.

Lets see... 'The Appeal,' already read it... 'Duma Key,' read that... 'A Thousand Splendid Suns,' read that one too... 'The Appeal,' this one looks good. I’ll just get my reading glasses, Ah, here they are... Ooh! No one in my chair, that’s odd, wonder where everybody went? Hmm, a chance to read my mail. Uh-oh, a letter from my doctor! Let’s see, he says the blood tests came back and there’s two problems: I’ve got cancer and I’ve got Alzheimer's. Whew! At least it’s not cancer! And what was the other one? Well it couldn’t be too important if I can’t remember it.

Now where was I? I have my reading glasses on so what was I gonna read?... Oh yeah, the paper. [Tweet] Here Sheppy! Bring daddy the paper! Now where is that dog? Oh well, I guess I’ll have to go get it myself... Now what did I come out here for? This lawn looks awful! Why can't anyone remember to water the lawn? I’ll just turn on the sprinkler. Argh, the damn faucets all the way in the back... There, that ought to do it. ...Oh, now I remember! I went to get the paper! ...Aw look at this! Those damn fool kids turned on the sprinkler and soaked my damn paper. Where the hell are they anyway. Well I guess I’ll bake a batch of cookies and watch some TV.

Let’s see set the oven for 400° and just let that preheat for a minute... All out of cookie dough?! Wait, there’s always some in the freezer in the garage... HEY! My wifes car’s gone! Honey! Somebody stole your car! Where the hell is she? I better call the police. Hello? Police? My wife’s car has been stolen! Yes, I’ll hold. ...Hello? Who? Who is this? The POLICE!? What about my wife! Yes she’s right here, HONEY?! Well she was here. What’s this all about, officer? I said that? I’m sorry there’s been some mistake you must have the wrong number. [click] What’s that smell?... Jeezus somebody left the oven on! I swear that woman is gonna burn down the house one of these days. ...Oh, Hi honey, you’re back so soon?”

“Yes dear I told you we were just going out to get some Ice Cream. What’s that smell? YOU DIDN”T TURN ON THE OVEN DID YOU!?”

“The oven? Of course not, what happened?”

“I left the Birthday cake in there! Oh, now it’s ruined!”

“Birthday Cake? Who’s Birthday is it?

“Your son’s.”

“I have a son? I’m not even married! By the way, who are you?”




by... um... what's my name again?

Friday, February 15, 2008

"Are you a Pervert?"-Personality Quiz


1. If your grocery store selection only offered these three fruit choices, which would you purchase?

A- A banana

B- Two firm plums

C- A soft fuzzy peach with a warm hollowed out center

2. You're at a bar and have been hitting on a tall leggy brunette all night. You are close to sealing the deal to get her back to your place, but just as you're about to go, the bartender warns you she's actually a man. You...

A. Make up an excuse, leave the bar, and resign yourself to another weekend of masturbation.

B. Revise your plans and decide to stop at oral

C. Rush to the pet store and buy a pair of gerbils

3. You put the new comedy you just rented into the dvd player and realize that the store accidentally put the wrong disc in the box as the opening scene of a porn movie begins to play. You...

A. Turn the movie immediately off, return it to the store, and file a complaint with the manager

B. Decide that you weren't in the mood for a comedy anyway and go get a box of tissues for the session to come.

C. Smile with fondness at the memories you made while directing this movie

4. You take viagara for a hot date and experience an erection lasting longer than 4 hours. You...

A. Call your doctor as is advised.

B. Use the side effect to your advantage as you go for round 2 through 20 with your partner

C. Film the event for posterity, brag to all your friends, and charge around your office at work yelling "VIVA LA PENIS!"

5. You meet some coworkers at a strip bar on a Friday night. You have a few drinks and get to enjoying yourself, when on to the stage, dressed as a naughty nurse, walks your sister. You....

A. Throw your coat over her, carry her out to the parking lot, and lecture her about ways to make an extra buck that do not involve embarrassing the family

B. Pretend to find an interesting bug on the floor that you proceed to stare at for the duration of the next song, while making a mental note to bring this up in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner as revenge for your sister being a tattletale while growing up.

C. Sigh in boredom as you've "been there done that."

6. Your idea of "adventurous" is....

A. Doggy Style

B. A midget

C. A Doberman

7. Your girlfriend decides to surprise you for Valentine's Day by bringing her friend along for a menage a trois. Your reaction is...

A. Embarrassment at having to perform for two women

B. Excitement at having to perform for two women

C. to nudge your girlfriend's mom over in the bed to make room for the two of them.

8. You find people who flash others while dressed in trench coats to be:

A. Dangerous and disgusting members of society who should be incarcerated

B. Role models for sexual freedom and lack of inhibition

C. Unimaginative bores who need to find more interesting ways to get their rocks off like auto-erotic asphyxiation.

9. While growing up, if you had a question about sex, you would.....

A. try to read about the answer in some dry medical periodical.

B. Openly ask your parents using uninhibited slang terminology

C. Experiment on mom while she was sleeping

10. To you, the term "pervert" means...

A. From the Latin Pervare, meaning "out of the norm"

B. I've been caught peeping in the neighbor's windows again.

C. I can't look it up with someone sitting on my face

Give yourself 1 point for every "A" answer. 2 points for every "B" answer. 3 points for every "C" answer.

10-16 points- Mr. Missionary position. Your lack of imagination and perversity puts us to sleep just thinking about your gyrations....or lack thereof.

17-24 points- Congrats! While a whip, chain, or strap on is not out of the question, at least the sheep are safe. Except for maybe that cute one with the blue eyes....

25-30 points- 655-1000. That's my phone number. Call me. I need tips.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

NORMALINE the new wonder drug

Tired of those dark circles around the eyes making you look tired?


Do you get dry, cracking lips and recurring dry mouth?


Does your scalp itch and flake causing unsightly dandruff?


Are you plagued by frequent migraine headaches and sore, stiff neck?


Do you have chronic depression, fatigue, severe pain when urinating?


Is your body covered with a bright red rash that burns, itches and peels?


Do you have seizures, feel suicidal or have psychotic episodes?


Tired of waking up screaming, foaming at the mouth and bleeding from all orifices?


Wandering out in the graveyard every full moon, with 3 inch fangs and claws, covered with blood, eating dead bodies getting you down?


Do you dread it whenever you turn into a giant werewolf-like beast and go on wild killing sprees, slaughtering dozens of people in cold blood?



Aren't you a little fed up with transforming into a hideous, blood-thirsty lizard creature and terrorizing the entire city, goring and killing people and destroying everything in your path?



Have you had it up to here with becoming possessed by the devil himself and having your body temperature rise to millions of degrees causing you to spontaneously explode with the force of a 7000 megaton atom bomb, vaporizing the entire planet?


If so, maybe it’s time you tried NORMALINE®

Just two NORMALINE® if used as directed can help calm your urges, curb your appetite and help you sleep more peacefully making you a better person. NORMALINE® has been scientifically proven safe and effective against these unpleasant symptoms and test subjects showed no side effects.



Ask your doctor or pharmacist about NORMALINE® today and get your life back to normal before it’s too late and you destroy the entire known universe.

by numbsain pharmaceuticals... better living through not dying!

Japanimation Classics Presents


Cartoon Theme Song Lyrics
sung to the tune of “Speed Racer”


Here he comes,
Here comes SPEED DEAL-ER,
he’s a tweak-er on wheels!
He’s a fel-on and he’s gonna be
crash-in’ in-to some-one.

He’s got no lic-ense and
he is-n’t fit to drive.
He’s got a war-rant out for
a code thir-ty-five.

He’s been con-vic-ted of stat-ut-ory...
rape of sev-’ral teens.
And don’t for-get pos-ses-sion...
of meth-am-phet-a-mines

Go SPEED DEA-LER...
Go SPEED DEA-LER...
Go SPEED DEA-LER, go-oooo!

[out chorus]
The play-er pimp he is,
he’s got a-bout a doz-en hos.
They’re all hooked on his shit and
foll’w him ev-’ry-where he goes.
If they can’t pay they give him head....

Go SPEED DEA-LER...
Go SPEED DEA-LER...
Go SPEED DEA-LER, go-oooo!


[alternate out chorus]

His brother Sprital's slingin'
dime bags on his paper route.
His sister Trixie walks the
street with her butt hanging out.
He'll bitch slap her upside the head...

Go SPEED DEA-LER...
Go SPEED DEA-LER...
Go SPEED DEA-LER, go-oooo!



by numbsain

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

PERCIVAL.... an African grey matter



Percival:
Brock?

[Footsteps in the kitchen]

Percival: Brock?... Bro-ock?

[More banging around in the kitchen]

Percival: Oh, Bro-o-ock? ...Brock, is that you?

[Loud thumping and then footsteps coming closer]

Percival: Brock, this isn't funny... Brock you're scaring me.

Brock: BOO! Ha ha ha, gotcha!

Percival: Aaaawk! Jeez Brock! you scared the shit out of me.

Brock: Good thing I put fresh paper on the bottom of your cage. Ha ha!

Percival: Pretty Bad, Pretty Bad.

Brock: Hey Percy, I gotta go out for a minute. What do you want to listen to?

Percival: Bach.

Brock: Rock?

Percival:
No, Ba-a-ch!

Brock: Rock it is.

Percival: You suck Brock.

[HEY MIS-TER TAM-BOUR-INE MAN PLAY A SONG FOR ME...]

Brock:
See ya later Percy!

[SLAM]

Percival: God, I hate this song.

[A few minutes later, footsteps in the kitchen again]


Percival: Brock?

Burglar 1: Hey did you hear that?

Burglar 2: Sounds like a bird.

Percival:
Oh shit...

Burglar 1: Look here he is! It looks like one of those expensive talking birds. How much do you think it's worth?

Percival: Cheap, cheap-cheap... very cheap.

Burglar 2: Leave it alone man, it's just a cheap bird.

Percival: Cheap, cheap (Whew!)

Burglar 1: Just grab the stereo and let's get out of here.

Percival: (Please, take the damn stereo)

[THERE IS A SEA-SON... TURN, TURN, TUR—]

Burglar 2: Hurry dude, let's go!

[SLAM!]

Percival: Ah, peace and quiet at last!

[A few minutes later Brock arrives back with a girl]

Brock: C'mon in Polly.

Polly: Hey, nice place ya got here.

Brock: Thanks, yeah, surfing competitions have been really good to me.

Percival: What a CROCK!

Polly: Wow, really? you must be good.

Percival: Liar Liar: Brock.

Brock: Oh don't listen to that stupid bird, he doesn't know what he's saying half the time. Hey Percival, I'd like you to meet Polly.

Percival: Polly: what a crack ho.

Polly: What did he just call me?

Brock: He's just hungry. He prob'ly wants a cracker, I'll be right back.

Polly: Oh. ...Hey wheres your bathroom... Brock?

Percival:
Polly wanna crapper? End of the hall, end of the hall.

Polly: Oh thanks Percival.

Brock: I'm back, hey, where'd she go? HEY! What happened to my stereo!? That bitch, she left and took my stereo! I can't freakin' believe it!

Percival: Prob'ly wanna smack her.

Brock: Actually, it was a shitty stereo, I was hoping to get laid, Damn!

[Just then Polly comes out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a smile]

Brock:
There you are! DAMN girl, you look...

Percival: Cheap! Cheap!

Polly: Didn't you say you had a jacuzzi?

Brock: Right this way, my dear...

Percival: Hey, aren't you forgetting something? My cracker? Brock? BROCK?


by numbsain

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Irving; A tale of the One Hundred and Forty Second Fastest Gun in the West

Due to a series of unfortunate incidents far too embarassing to relate here, Irving rode into town on the back of a limping cow. It had taken him the better part of a day just to travel the five miles from Lexing's camp, but he had accomplished it. However, it was truly amazing how one could get saddle sore without ever using a saddle.
He dismounted with a flourish, trying to win back some dignity, and actually accomplished the feat with some degree of grace. But, alas, no one was watching.
Irving sighed, ran his hands over the ivory handle of Colt, and began his bow legged saunter in the direction of Mitzy's saloon. Ole Mitzy Barton had been a showgirl of some renown back in her hay day. It was said that President Zachary Taylor had once come to see her show and had actually made a pass at her. Then his wife, Hillary Rodham Taylor, had found out about it and spirited him out of town and back to the white house before he got an urge to see the Gennifer Flowers pottery show. Good old Mitzy. She could spin a yarn or two.
Irving pushed through the swinging doors and was instantly greeted by the familiar sight of old Dinny Claymore pulling the peel off of a yellow oblong fruit.
"Now that's a bonanza!" Irving stated, pointing at the fruit.
"For the sixtieth time, Irving, it's a dead blamed banana. Ta ain't no 'z' anywhere in the name!" Dinny scowled at him.
"I know that you old codger!" Irving replied laughing and making a mental note about the 'z'. "Where's Mitzy?"
"She's a hidin' upstairs. Seems there's a rumor that the rifleman is comin' ta town this afternoon and she don't want no part of it."
"The rifleman eh? He a bad character?"
"You don't mess with the rifleman, Irving. He's killed more people than Mitzy's liver and onions."
"Well what's he comin' to Ford Taurus City for? Cain't be nothin' here fer him."
"Well...his sister's marryin Jeb Watley, and the rifleman aims to stop it."
"What the Sam Hell for? Watley's a do gooder and an apple shiner. Who wouldn't want him in their family?"
"That's just it, Irving. The last apple he polished, he gave to his father in law to be. The rifleman's dad. It had a worm in it. Now the rifleman has sworn vengeance against Watley and promised to stop this wedding."
"Well Ima gonna stop HIM. Somebody's gotta protect the do gooders in this town!"
"You're gonna get your fool head blown off, Irving. You can't stand up to the rifleman when he's meaner, tougher, and uglier than you. That's right. He's even uglier than YOU."
"So? That's how the west was won! People standin' up for each other and such!"
Dinny sighed. "Irving, the west ain't been won yet! For the love of God, what goes on in that melon of yours anyway?"
Irving shot what was supposed to be a menacing glance at Dinny, but it came out looking constipated. "Dinny Claymore, you just remember that Alamo down there in Louisiana! The west was won right there!"
Dinny was preparing to educate Irving yet again when the saloon doors burst open, admitting a disheveled Jeb Watley."He's here! The rifleman is here! He's a comin' down main street!"
"Don't you fret now, Jeb," Irving said. "I'll take care of this varmint and defend your honor."
"But Irving! Everyone knows you're the one hundred forty second fastest gun in the west!! How are you gonna take him?"
"He's the rifleman right? How long do you think it would take to draw a dead blamed rifle from a holster, Jeb? You think I can't take him?"
Jeb blinked at him. He was torn between trying to save Irving's life or using him as a distraction while he rode out of town. After some debate he chose the former.
"Irving. When have you ever seen someone holster a rifle in their pants? He's already got it drawn you nimwit."
Just then came a roar from outside.
"I'M LOOKING FOR JEBEDIAH WATLEY!" The Rifleman yelled.
Irving, still contemplating Jeb's words, acted more on instinct than on common sense. He got to his feet, put his hand on his ivory holster and strolled out the saloon doors. Right away, he saw him. Decked in a serape and crookedly wearing a sombrero, the rifleman stood in the street casting his gaze up and down the building fronts.
"You'll have to get by me first," Irving squeeked in his best tough guy voice.The rifleman looked him over.
"Irving Pumpernickel? You gotta be foolin' right?"
"So you've heard of me? Pretty impressive considering what a big valley this is. Well...are you gonna ride back where you came from, or are we gonna get to fightin?"
The rifleman threw his head back and laughed. Irving's gaze darkened, and his tunnel vision, such as it was, narrowed in on the rifleman. He gripped the ivory handle of the colt and yanked upward out of the holster. It was one of the more awkward moments in gunslinger history. A piece of Irving's leather holster had looped itself around the Colt's hammer and when he pulled the gun out, unknown to Irving, the hammer cocked itself back. Now on hair trigger, the gun, having been yanked too fast from the holster, rose high so that it was aiming a good six feet above the rifleman. In his over excited state, Irving never took aim. He just bumped the trigger and the Colt bucked in his hand.
Somewhere across the street, a window shattered.
Somewhere else, a cow mooed.
And the rifleman laughed even harder.
"Tarnation!" Irving yelled, forgetting about his gun for a second and grabbing for his face. "I got gun smoke in my eyes!" Irving began rubbing his eyes and dancing back and forth from one foot to the other.
And the rifleman laughed even harder.
By this point, the rifle lay forgotten on the road as the rifleman clutched his belly and his eyes bulged from his head. He was howling uncontrollably, unable to catch his breath.
Meanwhile, Irving had dropped his colt and was splashing water in his eyes from a nearby barrel. Dinny Claymore and Jeb Watley poked their heads out of the saloon to see what was going on. They were just in time to see the rifleman fall to the earth, wheezing and clutching his chest as laughter still bubbled out of him. A wet spot began spreading on his dungarees, but the rifleman kept laughing.
And that's how he died. Hands clutching his chest, eyes bulging from below his sombrero, urine dripping from his trailworn dungarees, the rifleman's heart just stopped.
The citizens of Ford Taurus City still recognized Irving as the one hundred forty second fastest gun in the west, but when it came to rifles, no one could best him.
(The moral of the story? No matter what era she existed in, that Hillary Rodham was one heck of a ballbreaker)