A TRIPPED TICK
Illustrated by Numbsain

Note: Thousands of innocent ticks were harmed in the making of this comic.

The U-Men

From the ghettos of the X-Universe come the U-Men. Some are ex-X-Men who were exiled, some were exed after the auditions, some never even tried out for the part. These are the U-Men. U doesn't stand for anything but neither does X.

Hibernator
His super power is his ability sleep off drug binges and come back to life as mentally acute as he’s ever been. He once slept for a month after securing residence at an apartment he was supposed to maintain while the tenants were on vacation. When they returned, all the plants and animals were dead. but amazingly he slept right through the dog gnawing all the toes off of his left foot!


The Orifice
One of the most awesome and powerful of the U-Men, also called the “Mayonnaise Jar” she takes on even the largest of opponents, and several at a time, completely swallowing them up never to be seen again—they don’t even call! The Orifice fills her days with seeking fresh meat and herself with anything she can find.


Half-Nelson
It is impossible to injure, break or harm his legs in any way. Not because they’re indestructible, because he doesn’t have any. There is an ongoing debate as to whether he is a true U-Man and not just a paraplegic as he was not born a mutant but simply had a hemi-corporectomy after a skiing accident.


Ovaltine
This obese U-Man was dubbed Ovaltine for his ability to consume victuals at an alarming rate and his favorite is to guzzle copious amounts of rich, chocolatey Ovaltine often depleting whole grocery store supplies...Wait a minute! He’s not a freaking U-Man he’s just a big fat pig!


The Vortex
This spinning spiraling creature possesses the uncanny power to twirl and twist matter into a vortex and thus make it disappear completely without a trace. Actually he’s mostly done it with fecal matter although he did flush a few small animals down the swirling porcelain vortex.


The Cheek
I know what you’re thinking; “that’s not a super power, having a really big cheek” Yes, but when he forages for berries and twigs in the warm summer months, he can store them in his cheek pouch for the long winter months to come. It’s all part of the natural ecosystem in our Wild America!


The Disbeliever
Completely impervious to indoctrination, propaganda, subliminal messages or brainwashing of any kind, This U-woman is chronically skeptical and always bears a look of disbelief. This Doubting Thomasina is so wary of everything that she often looks in the mirror just to make sure she really exists.


Beaver
Able to fell mighty saplings with just 8,465 gnaws of her powerful choppers, (it would take the average person 453,098 gnaws), she suffers from chronic TMJ from chewing all that wood, but on the up side, she has amazingly powerful jaws and if she wanted to she could pull a small trailer with her teeth. She just doesn’t want to because her TMJ hurts too much not to mention there are a lot better ways to pull a trailer.

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......."

A Failed High School Health Video of the 70s

(You remember them....the sex ed tapes. Run through a projector, the image was always shaky and featured archaic terms and hideous acting that did way more to turn off hormone charged teenagers than a lobotomy ever could. Folks, as bad as those were, believe it or not, there were some that were actually rejected for being worse! Like this one!)

Syphilis and You

(living with your disability)

Cue shaky projector

Video starts with hideous musical opening as backdrop to innocuous looking couple holding hands and walking in some nameless park.

Cue Narrator

"High school life is a challenging time. Your bodies are undergoing change. Some changes you may understand. Some you may not. The choices you make are often driven by factors that you cannot control, like your hormones. Your parents and teachers work very hard to teach you how to make the right choices and avoid negative consequences, but the fact remains that teenagers are generally idiots.

So there you are. Mr. Suave. Mr. Libido. Mr. Let's Get Funky. You've heard the rumors that Peggie Weller is an easy conquest and you are suddenly ready for action. You seek her out.
Ahhhh there she is. Hi Peggy! You naughty girl. Your parents warned you. Your teachers warned you. Your baptist minister with the hungry eyes and unsightly bulge in his vestments should have warned you. Promiscuity is bad. But you didn't listen! Now your pearly gates are a little sore. And the walls on your tunnel of love are a fiery red. You're thinking you should see the doctor, but no harm in one more fling first! After all, if it feels good do it! Right Peggy? And here comes our hero Mr. Suave right now.

He shares his lunch with you. Gives you googly eyes. Gives you the test for Mr. Pfizer's class that he stole after school yesterday. Before you know it, you're in the back seat of his dad's Pinto testing out the shocks and screaming to the heavens. It isn't until the following week that your doctor tells you that you have syphilis. And it will be three months before Mr. Suave gets his own boo boo checked out and finds out the same thing. Fortunately, Mr. Suave is a lonely man and only shared his ailment with his fist and the box of innocent kleenex that hangs out on his nightstand.

So now you've been diagnosed. How do you come to terms with this life sentence? Well Peggy. Well Mr. Suave. Fortunately, we are here to help. We have assembled three couples to give you advice on how to cope. Advice based on experience. That's right, each of the individuals you are about to meet have Syphilis. And here they are now! Say hello to Bob, Steve, and Winston!

And their wives Carol, Jane, and Doris.
Tell us, guys and gals. How have you accepted Syphilis in your lives?"

Bob-(in a bad actor's "forced" voice) "When I was diagnosed with Syphilis, I was shocked! I had taken care to only have one partner my whole life, and yet here I was with VD! I didn't know-"

Carol-"Oh shut up you bag of crap. I know for a fact I only had one partner and I'll be damned if you hang all this on me. I only regret that my choice of partner was you! Marry me he said. We have no choice he said. We can't give each other Syphilis again he said. I've been cleaning the skidmarks out of that man's shorts for 11 years now! I-"

Winston-"Only one partner! Only one partner! How the hell do you think I got the Syph? That was you under the bleachers that night Carol Schmidt whether you want to own up to it or not! Damn it! Why didn't I stop at the fifth Michelob? I could be leading a VD free life with Doris here."

Doris- "You son of a bitch! You told me you got syphilis from a toilet seat! You lying sack of-"

Steve-"And you believed him? Jesus you four are hilarious. This is better than a night at the cinemas."

Carol-"Don't you act so high and mighty 'Steve'. You and 'Jane' here must have the syph too since you're in this video."

Jane- "Actually no. We were supposed to be starring as the couple in the latest High School driver's ed video, "driving with distractions", but it looks like we're in the wrong studio. This IS far more interesting though.

All six begin yelling at once in a confused babble.

Cue the Narrator

"Umm. So there you have it. Peggy. Mr. Suave. Get married to one another. Swap your syphilis back and forth since it doesn't matter at this point. And rest assured that you won't need to squabble. It's no secret that you're a slut Peggy, and Mr. Suave here was only taking advantage of that fact to his own demise.

Join us next time as we explore another difficult teenage topic. 'Heroin and you. Choosing a safe dealer.' "

Cue shaky credits scrolling far too fast to read.

Aaaannnd......cut.

Then and Now. A Pictoral Comparison

It is a topic that's been visited many times on email and web page, but it never gets old. Truly seeing how far we've come (both in terms of progression and regression.....you decide which is which) in our respective life times. So here is our own version of then and now. The then is the decade of this author's birth, the 1970s. The now is whenever the hell I want it to be. So there. You're in my world now.


THEN:
Everyone remembers this classic, even if it is a bit vague in the pic. It's "Pong", the first video game ever designed for public consumption. It would provide easily 30 minutes of fun as you pounded on dad, shutting him out 8-0 while he mumbled about "new fangled gizmos" in frustrated consternation.


NOW:
Providing high quality graphics, animated combat, and seductively dancing elven women, the world of warcraft is home to over 10 million players world wide. It gives more than 12 hours of fun every day to the casual player who no longer sees his parents, friends, the dinner table, or the shower. Also provides economy boost to China and Korea as foreign "gold farmers" work round the clock to sell players currency that is licensed by "Blizzard." Sure it's theft. But it's fun!



Then:
Look at the sleek frame. The athletic build. The upholstered head. The 70s body was a work of art. Still subsisting for the most part on home cooked meals, marijuana, and hardcore disco nights, the 1970s tummy was taut, smooth, and perfect to snort a line off of. And the 70s ass wasn't bad either.








Now:
Hello fast food Era! Hello sitting in front of the TV watching American Idol every day era! Hello redhead on the right in the pink bathing suit....rooowwwrr...ahem! This is the modern day body. "Curvy". "Voluptuous." "Athletically challenged." "Obese." "Fatty fat fat." Could there be a correlation between this body and the above "World of Warcraft" insert? I don't know and I'm too busy photo shopping the bikinis off of these women to care.



Then:
Recreational entertainment? The lawn Jart. Come on, who could forget the family togetherness? The competition? The aiming for Uncle Frank when he was inebriated because he wouldn't remember anyway? Millions of Americans got hours of joy and not a few hospital bills from this family pass time.



Now:
Entertainment? Recreational teenage pregnancy. Come on! Leading the way for the erosion of common sense and morals in the country, the Spears family is an easy target of my withering sarcasm. But seriously. You have a tv show. Your sister is already a disaster. You're well on your way to your first million. Keep your legs closed!!!!! But to be fair, it's not just you. Say hello to planned parenthood, free clinics, and halls of shame all across America these days. It used to be the birth rate would would double 9 months after a power outage. Now it doubles 9 months after a Hannah Montana concert. Stop it kids! Go play World of Warcraft!




Then:
Ahhh 70s fashion. The bright colors, the bell bottoms, the afro, the mercedes medallion. Every Saturday night was like a rainbow as wave after wave caught that saturday night fever. Never in all of history were fashion trends so affected by alcohol, narcotics, and hideous taste.









Until Now.

Practicing Banal Sex; A message from your president

By George W. Bush

Ladies and gentleman, the only recreational activity out there that has been in existence since the dawn of time is fornification. That's right. I'm talking about biblical relations between members of oppositional or similar sexes. Now I know that typically discussions of this nature fall outside of the borders of presidential duties. But I wanted to talk to you because, as of late, some disturbing information has been crossing my desk here in the oval office. Which is really oblongated. But I guess the oblong office wouldn't sound very historic, would it? But I digress.

It seems there has been a trend amongst both heterosexual and homosexual couples to frequently engage in blatant overt banal sex. Now, my fellow Americans, this is not natural. Whether you believe fornification is for the purpose of procreation or just for the pleasure of whiling away a Saturday afternoon, you must agree that partaking in one another banally is not acceptable behavior. Nor is it sanitary.

The documents I've been reading report the use of such practices as a "missionary position" and "virginal inner course". This is disturbing to say the least, America. Despite what past presidential administrations have taught us, there are morals governing the act of recreational fornification. And I cannot stress to you enough the importance of abstaining from banal inner course.

We are involved in a war on terror. There is nothing that the enemy would love to see more than our moral collapse, and I need not remind you that we are already viewed dubiousiosly because of certain photos of prisoners being mistreated in our war camps. If the enemy knew that the issue of banal sex was eroding our morals like a cancer from within, they would strike at us while we are weak.

So, as your president, I must appeal to you America. Please cease the practice of banal sex. Go back to the traditional methods of fornification; man on top, woman lying docilely beneath. Or if you feel crazy, roll over. hehehe. But seriously, fornificating banally is immoral, unsanitary, and beneath the standards of America. And from what I understand, it can lead to a shortage of lubrication for those who really need it.

I'm asking for your help to make the last year of my presidency a banal free one. Let's take the inner course here and rise above the moral declines that are assailing us in every direction. Thank you.



(Editor's note: Since the submission of this publication by President Bush, it has been discovered that the documents crossing his desk were of a dubious nature. Left behind by previous president Clinton, these documents were entitled "Penthouse forum" and written by such pollsters and presidential aides as "Dick Ramrod" and "Kenna Lingus". The trends suggested by those documents are now a topic of debate. But we here at Goldmind's unwind continue to encourage an end to all banal sex. Try something kinky instead!)

Masochism; A New Years Tradition

Above: Yup. It's yours truly

December 31, 20-- 11:00 pm

You're at the masquerade. It's eleven PM and the new year is just 60 minutes away. In your right hand is a tumbler of good bourbon that is assisting you in forgetting the past year. In your other hand is a noisemaker and the wadded lyrics of "auld lang syne", just in case you've forgotten them. You take a drink.

On the large overhead screen, furnished for everyone's enjoyment, Dick Clark's rocking New Years' eve is plugging away with the latest teen fad/sensation undulating in the foreground. Clark himself, held upright only through the help of thin wires, visibly shoves away his thoughts of illegal teen love and tells you what a good time he and the rest of the animated corpses in the audience are having. You take another drink from your tumbler.

You have no idea who the brunette with the feather boa is, only that she is giggling at everyone and constantly rubbing against you. The merlot in her hand has been filled at least five times in the last hour forcing you to remove her from your "get lucky" list. If she's even upright at midnight, you'll eat your boxer shorts and allegations of rape do little to start a new year off correctly. Another drink.

Your tumbler is now almost empty so, being proactive, you shake your pink wig in the direction of the buxom waitress as she passes. She gives you a harried glance but acknowledges you since you've already tipped her more than 30% the value of the bourbon. Unlike the brunette, the waitress is still on your "get lucky" list. God knows why, though. By midnight she'll be drop dead exhausted and will be likely to give less response than the unconscious brunette. Besides, she doesn't seem too attracted to your costume which consists of plastic bubble gum machine tops covering your breasts. Getting lucky is beginning to seem unlikely. Visiting with the ghost of masturbation to come, you finish your tumbler.

January 1st, 20-- 12:01 AM

The ball dropped. Again. The Brunette in the feather boa dropped also. As you predicted. Dick Clark should have dropped, but the wires held, so his waxen corpse is still babbling into the overhead screen. In the room you're in, 300 people are drunkenly singing "Auld Lang Syne", sloppily kissing one another, and making farting sounds with hand held noisemakers. This is the penultimate moment. What everyone has gathered together for. It's a whole new year filled with promise and hope. The people on the overhead in times square, the people at your masquerade, the people the world over, are making as if to embrace this new year. Meet it head on. Seize it. Reap it for rewards. Which of course is why the majority of them are drunk, dressed like peacocks, and desperately molesting people they hardly know. You set down your fourth empty tumbler and hail the frazzled but still attractive waitress. Fifteen minutes ago, you gave her a twenty dollar tip, hoping for the extra attention and the fading possibility of thank you sex. At this point, though, you'll just be happy with a fifth tumbler of bourbon.

On the ground beside you, the unconscious brunette's skirt has ridden up to her waist. Your erection presses uselessly against the overlarge metal chastity belt that you're wearing as part of your costume. The last bars of "Auld Lang Syne" are coming to a close around you and your fifth tumbler of bourbon arrives on time, the twenty having accomplished it's mission. For one fleeting moment you think, this may not be such a bad year after all. Then the man behind you dressed like Madonna vomits on your mostly bare back and brings you back to reality. At least your erection is gone. You take a drink.

January 1st, 20-- 1 AM

The masquerade is winding down now. Forty percent of the revelers are unconscious or catatonic. Twenty percent are off fornicating in some darkened corner. Twenty percent are still vacantly nodding at the dulcet tones of the undead Dick Clark. And the last twenty percent are either event staff or designated drivers who are marching around and allowing themselves a moment of superiority over their less disciplined compatriots. You still sit at your table, vacantly staring at the colorful centerpiece while wondering why you do this to yourself every year. Sexual desire long since washed from your system by the bourbon, you are now using the unconscious brunette as a footstool. You emptied what was left in your wallet into the apron of the buxom waitress as a drunken heartfelt thanks for the special attention. The gumballs in your "bra" give an impotent rattle, as if unaware that the celebration has all but ended. Too drunk to walk, you remain seated and pee out the side of your "chastity belt". The new year has now been officially embraced.

Knowing what state you'd be in, you took a taxi here. The prospect of even walking to the curb and hailing another fills you with a sense of the impossible. Hell. If the floor is good enough for the brunette, it's good enough for you too. So you slide forward and fall to the ground. Right into your own urine. But the apathy of good bourbon holds and you close your eyes on this most majestic of holiday nights. You feel the warmth of the snoring brunette beside you and begin to drift off. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, she awakens beside you. And notices that her skirt has ridden up to her thigh. And that you're wearing a pink wig, a chastity belt, and nothing else. And that you smell like urine. Which is how you wind up with the rape charge.

Happy New Year!

The Andy Rooney Holiday Special

"The Holiday Report"- Andy Rooney

Normally, I would not waste the time that I have left to me by writing holiday crap and bending your ears with the musings of a grinch like old fart, but my confidante and possibly illegitimate son "Cheddar" called in a favor. And what the hell kind of name is Cheddar anyway? Does anyone reading this buy the fact that someone's parents would so blatantly name their child after a dairy creation? And if you do believe that, are you part of what's wrong with society? Or is the fact that you can believe it at all, actually what's wrong with society? Think about it.

The holidays. In the Rooney household, during the days of my youth, Christmas was celebrated in abject poverty. Our parents saved all year to provide me and my six siblings each with an orange and a freshly darned pair of socks. Notice I did not say knit, I said darned. That's right. They were last years socks patched up. We had not heard of Tickle me Elmo, Beanie Babies, Cabbage Patch Kids, and Virgil's prison playset complete with droppable soap. Even if we HAD heard of them, the Rooney kids would have been eating their oranges in freshly repaired socks; watching all the other kids play with their yearly fads in disgusting earnest. Suffering was a badge of honor in the Rooney household, and you wore it proudly. Of course, being inexperienced in the commercial gadgetry of Christmas, does leave me with several lingering questions.

For instance, what is a "furby"? It was always my understanding that this was a slang term for female genitalia, but the next thing I know all the kids are getting them for Christmas. Either there is a pedophilia related orgy going on in this country, or my definition is somewhat mistaken.

Speaking of orgies, where did this whole mistletoe thing originate? Some group of horny guys hung foliage over their heads and demanded foreplay in the name of holiday spirit? If that actually worked, why don't we see it tried more often? The President's day Mistletoe, the Colombus day mistletoe, the flag day mistletoe. Don't just go for the gusto in December boys, go for the freebie all year! After all, there is cameltoe all year, why not mistletoe?

And why does every doll a girl gets these days have to wet itself? Just walking down the aisles looking for a present for my granddaughter, I saw box after box of plastic baby proudly proclaiming it's incontinence. Are we preparing our little girls for a lifetime in nursing the elderly? Making them think that wetting oneself is "cute"? Believe me, when I mistakenly saturate my trousers, no one gets in line to buy me. Or fights over the right to dry my "whoopsy". What kind of statement are we making here?

And then there's New Years. As if the gluttony of a Thanksgiving feast, christmas cookies and fudge, the christmas goose, numerous office luncheons, and spiked egg nog isn't enough, we feel compelled to finish off our overindulgence in one final bender. Pop open the first bottle on December 31st and still be sleeping off the hangover on January 2nd. Are we dedicated to bringing in the new year in an alcohol induced coma because we know the year can only get better from there? Or do we embalm ourselves only to forget our transgressions in the year past? And is it any wonder we feel the need to make hollow resolutions after the 6 week period of gluttony from Thanksgiving to New Years? During this period, many asses grow to the size of swollen Halloween pumpkins, and we feel compelled to diet so that we may repeat our self abuse next year. Why don't we all save some time and just resolve to continue our self abuse in a consistent manner? Or resolve to try bulimia?

All in all, as the song says, it's the most wonderful time of the year. On display is blatant alcoholism, gross dietary irresponsibility, thoughtless comsumer spending, and self serving college bowl games that only the alumni of podunk state care at all about. It is the time for dysfunctional families the world over to get together in tension laden situations and share barbs of sarcasm over holiday punch. It's the time to watch the moral collapse of society while smugly sipping your eggnog and fondling your plastic tree. Happy Holidays America. Why not enjoy an orange in your trailworn socks in honor of yours truly?

Btw, Cheddar. I hope this puts paid to our debt so that you can stop spamming my email box and calling my home. At my age, I just want solitude. Keep up the pestering, and the next thing you'll find under your own mistletoe will be my prostate.

-Andy

GREAT MOMENTS IN ADVERTISING

In the 50's A small ad firm put several entrepreneurs on the map with their direct no nonsense approach to slogan and corporate image design. Let's listen in on history in the making, shall we...

The Boss: Okay, what's on deck?

J.B.: Well sir, the client is Melvin Spitz and he wants to open a restaurant on the side of the highway.

Hodgkins: A hamburger-stand type of thing, Sir.

The Boss: Okay so what does he wanna gonna call his place?

J.B.: Well he had some ideas he thought were really clever...

The Boss: Oh brother, let's hear 'em.

Hodgkins: "Highway Burgery" "The Skid Mark" or "Burger Brake" and it's spelled like the brakes of a car...

The Boss: Oh my god, I hope we're not too late to save this man from himself... Okay what did you guys come up with?

J.B.: Well sir, you have so much more experience with this, we were hoping you'd tell us...

The Boss: WHAT THE HELL AM I PAYING YOU BUMS FOR?!?! AT LEAST TRY TO USE YOUR BRAINS!!!!

Hodgkins: ...Uh, M-M-Melvin Spitz by the side of the highway?

The Boss: You're both fired! Get the hell out of my office!

Hodgkins: Yes sir, Sorry sir.

The Boss: Get back in here! We've got work to do. Now first of all nobody wants to go eat on the side of the highway. People like to go "in" somewhere. makes 'em feel special.

Hodgkins: Melvin Spitz "in" the highway?

The Boss: Oh I can see it now, "Can I take your order? Vroom Screeeeech! ‘SPLAT!" We gotta put Melvin in a nice place! Talk to me boys.

J.B.: How about a house, no a room, "Melvin Spitz in a room?"

Hodgkins: No J.B. the boss wants us to think outside the box remember?

The Boss: Actually Hodgkins, thinking outside the box never seems to work for you guys. Just think inside the box.

Hodgkins: "Melvin Spitz in the Box!"

The Boss: Better, but the names gotta go. He needs a catchier name, something with some pizazz.

J.B.: Steve in the Box?

The Boss: You call that pizazz?!

Hodgkins: Clyde in the Box?

The Boss: Even worse! Come on you guys, I'm falling asleep over hear.

J.B.: Ralph in the Box?

The Boss: HORRIBLE!

Hodgkins: Vinnie in the box?

The Boss: Look you guys are jacking me around here, What the hell do I pay you bums for? You ain't doing Jack for me!

J.B.: That's it! "Jack In the box!"

The Boss: You just earned your paycheck J.B., Ship it!

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FAUX PAS-MOBILE

In 1989 Ford introduced a sporty little coupe with a name that really should have been nixed before it ever hit the showroom floor. The scene opens in a meeting at the Ford Motor Co. Creative Department.

Henry Jr.: Okay Billingsly, we're at the deadline here. Manufacturing needs a name for the new sport coupe so they can start casting the logos. What have you got for me?

Billingsly: Well sir, we have narrowed it down to three choices: The Ford Pony, The Ford Slingshot, or my personal favorite The Ford Probe...

Henry Jr.: Are you kidding me? Those are the choices? Those are the worst names I've ever heard in my life!!! Who the hell is gonna buy a car called a "probe?" What are you thinking billingsly?

Secretary: Sir, It's your wife on line 7...

Henry Jr.: Put her on speaker...

Secretary: Uh, Sir, I think you'd better pick up.

Henry Jr.: (click) What's the problem Stephanie?...

Secretary: Your wife is very angry sir, apparently she found a pair of my panties under the seat of your other car sir... I'm sorry... She's talking about a divorce.

Henry Jr.: Uh, I gotta take care of some personal business Billingsly, meetings over.

Billingsly: But Sir, the deadline, what are we going to call the car?

Henry Jr.: Look, I don't care about that right now! Just... do whatever you want, get outta my office!

And thus the Ford Probe was born. At least it represented the first example of truth in advertising as the Ford Motor Company really stuck it to it's customers with this lemon.

20 Worst Christmas Gifts

20. Cat Velcro ... Kitty will never stray again

19. Ronco mash-o-matic fingerprint eliminator

18. Toothpaste Bomb Set

17. Fart in a Box

16. What's O.J. Done Now? Board Game

15. Bionic Sphincter Kit

14. Dr. Scientist Kit: Rusty nails, hypodermic needle, 10cc tetanus

13. My Pretty Piercing Parlor—Hours of piercing fun for your tongue, ears, nose, and more!

12. Beanie Afterbirth

11. Potty Mouth Pam Doll - Pull her string and she shouts "Doo Doo Head!" and more!

10. Squirrel Farm

9. Pray Station—Cyberchurch game console plays all your favorites: NUN-chuck, The Sermonizer, X-treme Confession, CyberBible 2000, Rabid Dogmas, PriestMeat Escape, Sunday Mass Murderer and more! Virtual morality for home or pew!

8. Slip 'n Fall—Rooftop Outdoor Water Slide

7. Electronic Handheld Ways-to-Commit-Suicide Suggester

6. Severed Chihuahua head key chain

5. Johnny Tweaker: My First Meth Lab!

4. Streetwalker Barbie & Big Pimpin' Ken

3. Children Buried Under My House Board Game

2. My first anti-depressant - Ages 2 and up

1. Tickle me Father Elmo catholic priest doll

Rome, Circa 25 B.C.

Bonus and Meniscus at the Vomitorium, Part I

by Guinness

"Hail, Bonus!" shouted Meniscus from across the forum. "Where you beheaded?"

"It's Sunday, you fool, and as customary, I intend to conjoin with Ignoramus at the vomitorium to gorge myself until filled to the gullet, purge, and repeat until my esophogus is squeaky clean."

"Oh, but of course! My cousin Virus is visiting from the rivalous region of Gaul, and would enjoy an orgy of food and drink...may he attend?"

"Virus? Never heard of him and do not care to have my purge ogled by strange Gauls."
"Oh, it is but my regret. What thoughts have you of the young fellow, Stimulus Terminus?"

"Ah, yes, indeed, bring that one along. I could use a bit of purging at the other end, provided either Ramses, Trojan or Magnum are packing the sheepskins, that is." Bonus dismissed Meniscus with a brusque wave of his heavily braceleted arm.

"Very good, we shall see you at XII sharp then!" called Meniscus after the retreating toga.

The vomitorium teamed with sweating, curly-haired men, some togas hanging off the shoulder, mouths greasy with game juices, wine, grapes and figs. In the center, a stone edged circular recepticle received the exodous of anal and gastric passages. Heaven on Earth, the epitome of man's societal modernization! As Meniscus entered, he spotted Hippopotamus gorging himself with a roasted leg of mutton, Status keeping tabs on the victual levels, Census counting heads, Sinus sneezing vomit from his nasal passages, Hiatus passed out under the fruit table, and his good friend Meniscus with Stimulus Terminus. Fabulous, he thought, and strode to the beverage table... "A shot of tetanus, make it a double."

As Bonus swallowed his beverage, a rucous arose amidst the patrons. Projectilus Vomitus was hurling colorful streams of fruit juiced pork back in a glorious five foot arc which landed dead center into the recepticle. A slightly built toga'd figure underneath the arc screeched "ROJECTILEPAY OMITVAY!" in a female voice. Every good citizen of Rome knew women weren't allowed in the vomitorium.

"Ceasar! er SEIZE HER!" the crowd clamored.

end of part I.

Bigots Are All Alike

by numbsain

Ah! Heah we go princess, Lou-weegee's Gawmay Cuizeen, eh? Eh? Ya like Eye-talian food don'tcha? Well don'tcha? Ya gotta eat, I mean look atcha, ya nuthin' but skin and bones fuh cryin' out loud. So you could eat, right? Right?

Y-e-e-s mother-r-r.

Uh-right. Eye-talian food is good. I hope it's not one o' them Mafia owned joints, Yaw fathuh would NEVUH go eat Eye-talian. "They're all mobsters," he'd say...

Oh Mom, please!...

Ooooh! Red cawpets! Classy joint eh?... Pahty of two please.

Spit out your gum, mother.

Uh-boy, lookit, ya see dat guy? Ya see Skah-face ovah theah? Mafia written awl over 'em. Oy vey.

Mother, he's a waiter.

Oh no, Scah-face is a hit man fuh the mob ahm tellin' ya. Look at his eyes... (bas-tuhd)

Oh, hello, ah'll have the... um, louey-gweeno crab-on-aro an' do you have Manischevitz? Oh, then just a house white, thank yew.

Oh... Moy... Gawd! Lookit, look at dis what just wawked in! It's Chahlie Chan an' the Dragon Lady. Lookit huh; She's prah-bly 95 yeahs old and she looks like she' s fawty. Dat's them Awri-entals, they nevah age. Oh, lookit what he's got! dat's not a suit case, oh no, Chahlie Chans got a machine gun in theah! Dat's the Chinese Mafia right theah, Ahm tellin' ya!

Mother you are really going too far this time! Now just stop it!

Oh... foyn! (sniff) so that's the way ya tawk to ya muthuh... (snuk) I know when I'm not wanted.

Mother please.

Naomi Lookit! ya see doze Pawtuh Reekins ovah theah? Lookit Pancho's got a box! and they keep lookin' at Shang-hai Chahlie ovah theah!

Mother!

And Scah-face ovah theah keeps lookin' at 'em too! ...Oh moy gawd! Didjoo see dat? Pancho just winked at Scah-face and theah both lookin' at da Chinaman! Honey, uh, I gotta go pow-duh my nose...

Hello is dis the police station? ...You gotta get some squad cars down to Luigi's right away! It's a shoot out!!! somethin' big is goin' down heah! Hurry!

I'm back! whud I miss? It's okay baby, yuh muthuh took care of it. ...Oy Gutten Himmel! Lookit Naomi! See dat tray? He's got a AK-fawty seven under theah. Its a HIT! Get unduh the table honey! Lookit Pancho an' his gang are gettin' up and wawkin ovah theah too! Theah gonna rub out Shang-Hai Chahlie right heah! Stay behind me baby!

Mom! what are you doing?!

AWRIGHT FREEZE YOU BASTUHDS!!! PUT DOWN THE TRAY!! YEAH YOU, SCAH-FACE OVAH THEAH! AND DROP DAT BOX, PANCHO!!! ONE FAWLSE MOVE AN' I'LL BLOW YA FRIKKEN HEADS AWF!

MOTHER!!! WHERE DID YOU GET THAT GUN?!?!

DROP THE GUN LADY!!!

Oh, Awffisuhs, heah's my gun. Thank Gawd you got heah just in time!

Let's go lady, put 'er in the squad car. You too miss.

Is everybody okay here? You okay Luigi? ...Oh good. By the way, thanks for catering the policeman's ball the other night. You okay Mayor Gutierrez? Oh great, The new youth center is really coming together, great work there sir. Councilman Chin, I apologize for this mess, I guess she spoiled the surprise but I hope that crazy old bat didn't completely ruin your evening sir. My partner took her down to the station so there won't be any more trouble. Well if everybody's alright, mind if I stick around and sing? ...Thanks, make a wish Councilman...

HAP-PY BIRTH-DAY TO YOU...

editor's note: nothing here is meant to be anti-semitic. Especially given the fact one of us is Jewish!

25 Worst Dog Names

List concocted/assembled by Cheddar, Goldmind, Guinness & numbsain

25. Bundy
24. Mistress
23. Crappy
22. Stain
21. Kitty
20. Anus
19. Worms
18. Sir Crapsalot
17. Spaylina
16. Coming Mary
15. Bedshits
14. Mein Führer
13. Wetspot
12. Fart
11. Hairpie
10. Fudgepacker
9. Stools
8. Meatsword
7. Grumblepoot
6. Butt Trumpet
5. Crotchie
4. Assie
3. Herpes
2. Buttsniffs
1. General Colon Bowel

Runners up for the top 25 worst dog names
Revised and added to by numbsain

Since Goldmind's Unwind first posted this list, we have received hundreds of letters each week from dogs with bad names. Most of them are irate, angry letters from canines under the mistaken impression that we were somehow responsible for their misfortune. This is not true. And to show our sympathy for these badly named dogs who apparently have learned to operate a computer (although their spelling and grammar is atrocious), we'd like to list some of the ridiculous names these pooches have been branded with:

Drive-By
Squirts
Moo
Thilly
Devil Dog
Bone smuggler
T-Bone Walker
Kibbles 'n Butts
Groincheck
Bark Simpson
Paw Prince
Oscar My-yer-a-Weener
Leash Ornament
Collar Otto
Guardenia
Vicious
Hal O. Tosis
Retard
Ol' Brown Nose
Uppan-died
Fran's best mend
Hydrant Hydrator
Growlf
Doo-doo-ronomy
Mucous
Dysplasia
Mangie
Choker
Sick-of'em
Loyola Many-Mount
Digger Blew
Thirston Howl III
Shedd
Puddles
T-Penis
Hell-Mutt
Teeter Poundsend
Pyuto
Mighty Stupid Dog
Spitbull
Michael Vicks Best Friend
Bingo the Dingo
Beeyotch
Old Smeller
Joan of Bark
Doggie Bowzer
Poop Dogg
Uri Nader
Dogeau
Dogma
Barf-all-on-you

Speaking of man's best friend, a term which seems a little demeaning to women if you ask me, If “the way to a man's heart is through his stomach” and a dog is man's best friend than why aren't there more recipes which incorporate dog ? Have no fear, coming soon:

Kanine Kulinary Klassics

Collie Flower Soup
Barbecue Pit Bull
Shitzu Shitaki Sushi
Poodle Noodle Strudel
Arroz Con Chihuahua
Weiner Dog Schnitzel
Setter A La Cheddar
German Shepherds Pie

edited by numbsain 2/08

ııııııııııııııııııııııı

More Kanine Kuisine
added by numbsain 5/1/08

Who's mouth doesn't water uncontrollably at the very mention of a delectable Doberman, a scrumptious Scotty, or a Great Danish? There's no better way to satisfy a hungry appetite than with the delicious taste of fresh dog meat. Here's an Indian feast that'll have the whole family praying for puppies and ransacking the local kennels.

Samoyed Samosas
Ingredients:
1 medium sized Samoyed dog, boiled, skinned and mashed
1/2 cup boiled and drained green peas
1 1/2 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp dog extract
1 tsp red flea powder
1/2 tsp puppy do-claw powder
1/2 tsp dog bone powder
1 tablespoon chopped dog nuts
Salt to taste
3 cups maida (all purpose dog flour)
1/2 cup maida, for rolling out
1 tablespoon heated dog ghee or dog oil
Oil for deep frying
1 tablespoon dog ghee (clarified dog butter) for the stuffing
1 small dog bowl of cold water

Method:
Beat the dog until dead
When the whiskers stop twitching, and yelping stops
add the dry powders and fry for 10 seconds.
Add the mashed Samoyed and green peas and mix well.
Mix in salt to taste.
Fry on a low flame for about 10 minutes.
Set aside.
combine the maida, dog ghee or dog oil and salt to taste.
Add enough water and walk the dog.
Set aside in kennel for about 10 minutes.
Divide the dog into round portions.
Take each portion and muzzle it so that
it does not bite your hands.
Roll it into a not too thin perfect dog shape.
Dip your index finger into the dog bowl
and apply it to the legged edge of the dog-shaped dough.
Now hold the dog in your hand.
Fold the legged edge , bringing together the furry edges.
Seal the watered edges.
You should now have a small dog-shaped maida pocket.
Stuff it with the Samoyed mixture and take the dog for walkies again.
Repeat for the rest of the dog
Deep fry in dog oil till dog colored and serve
with beagle chutney.

Spotted Dalmation Dal

Shoot the Dalmation and remove all spots with spot remover.
Cut a big chunk from the meatiest part of the dog and
eat it raw right then and there. Throw some dal in a pot
and boil it with some spices. When it looks like it will pass as supper
set aside in a large pile under a tree for eight years.
go out in the back yard and devour the rest of the dog carcass.

Poodle Puppy Pakora

In a large bowl, add the chickpea flour, optional puppy peppers, cumin, salt, water and oil. Whisk vigorously to incorporate air and make a fluffy batter. Alternatively, put all the batter ingredients into a blender and puree until smooth. Set aside and take the dog for walkies for about 20-30 minutes.Heat about 1-2 inches of oil in a heavy skillet or deep pot to 375°F. Using a fork, dip the prepared poodle puppies into the batter to coat.

Note: to prepare the poodle puppies, just tell them in a calm soothing voice, that they are going to be cooked and eaten now and everything will be alright. Give them a little kiss on the head and a few gentle strokes and then WHACK 'EM! Don't worry, they don't feel pain the way we do.

Then drop in small batches into the hot oil and deep fry until lightly browned on all sides. Drain on a paper towel-lined plate and serve with mint chutney or cilantro chutney.

Mango Lassie Lahssi

Lahssi is a delicious indian yogurt drink made from fresh dog milk.
We'll tell you how to make it next week!

Disclaimer: Goldmind's Unwind would like to make it very clear to our beloved readers, many of which are dog lovers, that this is all a joke and not meant to be taken seriously in any way. We absolutely do not, never did, and never will, under any circumstances, pretend to know anything about authentic Indian cooking, and although you can't go wrong with the great taste of dog meat, these recipes would probably, if prepared as indicated, taste like shit. Seriously though, we don't eat dogs...we're vegetarians.

Note to PETA: Just watch a Tom & Jerry cartoon and then talk to us about animal cruelty.

by Numbsain

Tales of the Big Ass Wolf. Episode 1 (click to enlarge)

by Goldmind

Aged Adage Aptitude Test

by numbsain
Have you ever noticed how elders don't really bother to talk about things anymore? They just have those old sayings, gems of wisdom and tidbits of advice that sum up every situation. Here's a multiple choice quiz to see if you were really listening or were they casting pearls before swine.

You can't keep a good man...
a. wrapped in plastic in the freezer
b. From wearing your lingerie
c. a secret
d. down

Necessity is the mother of...
a. evil
b. Hercules
c. all battles
d. invention

You can't make a silk purse...
a. out of a monkeys scrotum
b. out of a sows ear
c. for a dead nurse
d. without breaking a few worms

Many a truth...
a. is said in jest
b. is said at gun point
c. is said with a flourish and a wink
d. is oft' uncouth

The grass is always greener...
a. if you water it
b. when you’re drunk
c. on the other side of the fence
d. in Kentucky in the spring

Father knows..
a. bourbon
b. best
c. squat
d. we hate him

You can take the kid out of the country...
a. but you can't leave him in Mexico
b. but you can't take the country out of the kid
c. but you can't launch him into space
d. But you can't keep running forever

Children should be seen...
a. and not run over
b. within the confines of a cell
c. and not heard
d. and not smelled

All work and no play makes Jack...
a. $$$RICH$$$
b. a dull boy
c. a valuable employee
d. have a midlife crisis at 25

Don't count your chickens...
a. out loud, others are trying to count too
b. before they're hatched
c. on the fingers that you're lickin'
d. feathers, it will take too long

A cat has nine...
a. lives
b. toes
c. ways to recline
d. thoughts a day

You can't teach an old dog...
a. algebra
b. to play dead, it's tempting fate
c. new tricks
d. to walk himself

It's better to have loved and lost...
a. all your teeth than date Lorena Bobbit
b. after you've brushed and flossed
c. count than to only love once
d. than never to have loved at all

The best things in life are...
a. taken
b. free
c. sex, drugs and rock and roll
d. really great

A bird in the hand..
a. is worth two in the bush
b. is usually terrified and will bite you
c. is the best way to deal with rude drivers
d. feels really weird

Time flies when you’re...
a. bored and want to see how fast they can go
b. old
c. having fun
d. going 299,792,458 meters per second

When the going gets tough...
a. the going gets rough
b. the meat gets tender
c. the tough strut their stuff
d. the tough get going

You can lead a horse to water...
a. but you can't lead a fish to hay
b. but you can't give him a bubble bath
c. by giving him clear written directions
d. but you can't make him drink

Winners never quit...
a. so don't try to beat them
b. and quitters never win
c. that's why there are so few of them left alive
d. and witters never quin

Beauty is only...
a. for women
b. until you get old, wrinkly, and saggy
c. skin deep
d. a matter of the right surgeon

Never let them see you...
a. pick your nose and wipe it under the table
b. sweat
c. naked
d. steal cash from your mom's purse

Monkey see...
a. monkey do
b. see? look at the monkey! Isn't he funny
c. all
d. you, monkey kill you

Curiosity killed the...
a. surprise
b. cat
c. lights
d. mood

A watched pot...
a. never grows old
b. head always gets caught
c. Is a happy pot
d. never boils

People who live in glass houses...
a. are exhibitionists
b. shouldn't throw stones
c. are in the clear
d. don't need windows

You can't squeeze blood out of...
a. a hamster
b. a dead hemophiliac
c. a turnip
d. kosher meat

Don't throw good money...
a. in the toilet
b. after bad
c. at beggars
d. out with the bath water

He who laughs last...
a. cries first
b. laughs best
c. is the stupidest
d. voted for Goldminds Unwind

The letter of the right answer for each is indicated to the left of the correct choice.

by numbsain

30 Worst Things to Stuff Inside Your Thanksgiving Turkey

List concocted/assembled by Cheddar, Goldmind, Guinness & numbsain

30. Bole weevil ala mode
29. Alpo
28. Toenail Clippings
27. What the turkey already had inside
26. Spam
25. Graves and Corpsed Taters
24. Ex Lax Pudding
23. Agent Orange
22. A smaller turkey, a chicken, a cornish game hen, a grouse, a sparrow, a hummingbird, a cricket, an ant, an aphid, an amoeba
21. Tang Concentrate
20. Broken Glass
19. Silly String
18. Purina Cat Chow
17. Gravel
16. Mashed Turnips and Harlots
15. DDT soaked Peat Moss
14. Criminal Evidence
13. Pickled Ram Testicles
12. Caterpiller Fungus
11. Clay
10. Duck fetus
9. Hallucinagenic Mushrooms
8. Packing noodles
7. E-coli flavored botchulism
6. Stuff beneath your couch cushions
5. Jimmy Hoffa
4. Head Cheese
3. Bull Penis
2. Chipmunk Vomit
1. Your Cat