Wilford Brimley Has A Modest Proposal

Stop right there, dumbass fuck-nugget!  Not only is Wilford Brimley looking more disheveled than usual, but his pointy-finger is pointed right at you.  And do you know what that means, you snot-nosed dickhead?

No?  Well, then perhaps you should allow Mr. Brimley to apprise you...

 

"I'm hungry, young man.  I gots the cravings for some meats.  That's right!  Meats!  Plural!   And before you and your Harvard bookworm tongue correct my grammar-- I will Van Damme your raisin bag; so keep that yapper of yours cinched!   I grew up a got-damn Mormon.  We name our children Enos and Amulek.  We wander the hilly countryside wearing forty gallon Stetsons like in that Doyle story.  We swim.  We eat.  And we make little baby sharks.  And that's...  Don't say anything, turd-handler!  I know it's from a movie!  It's a metaphor!  I was supposed to be in that hot-shit movie, but Lorraine Gary stole that part from me!  Guess I should have married a Jew when I had the chance too.  But no- I was too busy roping women and fucking cattle to bother with those no-fun Jesus tattletales.

"I see your eyes, prolapsed rectum-head!  What?  You're surprised we made sweet sweet burning love to our cattle?  Or are you shocked that our ladies were into bondage?  I'm not sure I want an answer from you.  You're an ignorant swath of doofus!  

"Hey!  Didn't I say I wanted some meats?  Where the crap were you on that one?  Nice hustle, Johnny Nowhere-near-the-fucking-spot.  I should backhand you in the maracas.  Let me tell you a story about hasty meats-fetching...

"One day my father walked in my tiny room.  He was wearing overalls.  Not the OshKosh B'Poop kind:  the kind that only a real man would wear who endured hours of torture from swarthy Indians.  His eyes hid long lost pain from long ago.  He sat down next to me on my tiny bed and put his arm around me.  He tousled my hair and gave me a smile.  Then he Jack Johnson'd me in the buckshot bag... "Pow!"  He tousled my hair one more time and then boxed my ears.  He walked out of the room without a word.

"The lesson that I learned that day was Meats-- then God.  Golden calf tastes delicious because it's young; it's tender.  I'm renaming it 'alchemy veal.'  You writing this down, weenis?  Get out your fancy ThinkPad and stylus the dookie out of this shit.  Do you have Mindspring on that thing?  I just got it.  Boobs and NRA updates.  The future is here!  You know what's not here though?  My meats! 

"Holy Charro's knockers, doody-lips!  When I was your age and an elder told me to go forth and return with meats-- verily -- it shall be done!  You're just standing there!  Onward, fart-farter!  And upon your removal from my sight, do tell Mrs. Teschmacher the she and her cock-nibbling talents are needed toute de suite!"

And as you scramble out the room, El Brim Grande finally leans back in his ergonomically appropriate leather cushioned La-Z-Boy and stares at his meats indices.  They're up- just like his blood.  Not in pressure, mind you, but in temperature.  He is a riled man:  a turgid feral beast existing in a world of flaccid corporate nabobs.

Mrs. Teschmacher comes in and gives him a knowing, willing smile.  In moments she is on her knees in order to please.  He who is a god amongst mere mortals pulls out his set of knucklebones and lays them upon his Captain of Industry desk made entirely of tiger's eye...


But not the gemstone.
 

Image courtesy of:   @screenjunkies

Haiku of the Courageous!

I think you like me.
I can't ask you directly
'Cause I'm a pussy.

Three Hurdles That Make Writing Longer Pieces of Prose Difficult

Good conflict

Good ending

Good snacks

Haiku: Still Ten, Mistaken for Older

We should get ice cream.
But I'm not asking you 'cause
Your face is stupid.

An Epigram Concerning Taylor

It is a matter of course that an intelligent person will occasionally muse upon the existence of a being of higher power than themself.  The obvious corollary is that the intelligent person in question will also muse upon the non-existence of said being. 

And with questions such as these slowly traversing across his steppe-like mind, Taylor makes himself a grilled cheese sandwich.

Morrissey's True Intentions

Many things are worthy of getting to the bottom of.  Alas, some things will never have their Laurentian-like depth trawled due to fear of fear or fear of fearing the unknown or fear of fearing the fear that necessitates one who is fearful.

And so a question arises-- a question that has been studied, deconstructed, and obsessed upon--  just who is Morrissey really singing about in the beloved ditty "Our Frank?"

Fortunately for all of mankind, there is an answer....

TRIUMPHANT!

Short Story: The Mysterious Case of the Missing Keys

They were in his other pants.

Haiku: Bloody Death! Doom!

Rickety loudness!
Off-balance shopping cart rolls
Past my house nightly.

A Gentleman's Epiphany

You were in the mood and I was raring to go-
But drink detours me time after time-
I don't remember doing much for you to bemoan-
Unless I once again suggested your ass or mine.

Super-Mega-Maximum-Awesome

Super-mega-maximum-awesome is a term that describes something as being super-mega-maximum-awesome in nature.

For example:  If you were to find your paramour's genitalia especially aesthetically pleasing, you might be inclined to say, "Damn, girl, your cunt is fine as fuck!"

But with the new term of "super-mega-maximum-awesome" nestled comfortably in your gentleman's lexicon holster, you can now quite regally state,
"There are those, my dear, that might proclaim your vagina to be wholesome.  And there are those that might claim it to be rather handsome.  But I am not one of those; therefore, I shall hereby announce for all present and future parties that your vagina is the representative monarchy of every single thing--including dark matter-- in the universe that is super-mega-maximum-awesome!"

And just like the prophet William Joel once caterwauled...

"Tell her about it.  Tell her everything you feel.  Tell her that her taco is
super-mega-maximum-awesome."

A Meeting with He and His Spiffy Sandals

In honor of All Hallows' Eve, I submit to you some very quotable quotes quoted by the most famous ghost in the history of all things that do not and will not ever exist...

JESUS! CHRIST!

Yessir-ree-bob. I do indeed mean the Jesus!  Christ!  I'm quite convinced I spoke to the anthropomorphic form of Jesus! Christ! because He told me He was in fact Jesus! Christ!  And only a delusional schizophrenic foil-chapeau wearing loon whom I played chess with on a daily basis in a facility for delusional schizophrenic foil-chapeau wearing loons would know whether or not they are Jesus! Christ!

And as Jesus! Christ! once said to me as he opened with a Stonewall Attack:  "How in the fuck-basket burnt sienna has Edward James Olmos not played Manuel Noriega in a Broadway rendition of Mannix?"

Excellent query, Mr. Christ!

And now----

Jesus! Christ! on...

- Electric Cars

  

"Ish Kabibble!"

- Jews

"They'll come around."

- Cute Kitty Cats

"Satan's sycophants!  Nihasa ne'er-do-wellers!  Stupid Assholes!"

- The Still Breathing Gavin Macleod

"I know a guy."

- Usain Bolt

"Whooopa-dee-doo, your majesty--  Try doing that on water."

   

  - Dancing Like No One is Watching

"Somersets; day and night!"

- The Trappings of  Wealth

"Bjorn Borg:  scourge of the Federation."

 

An Epigram Concerning Me Feeling Old

From an outside observer's standpoint, it would certainly seem like I'm mentally preparing myself for the process of bending down to pick something up off the ground that is less than one-tenth my weight.

Do Not Take John Farrell Literally

Needing a spark during the ALCS, John Farrell-- manager for the Beaneaters of Boston -- said that it was time to throw young-buck rookie third basebagger Xander Bogaerts into the fire.  While one should ignore the spark/fire reference as both hackneyed and legitimately dumbass-ian, it is quite necessary for one to note that "fire" was used as a metaphor.


So it is rather unfortunate that a third rate cardiac surgeon with a stupid hat took literally Farrell's quote and did this:

Piddles and damnations to Murgatroyd!  I left the Pepcid in my other sacrificial turban!

                             

Be Kind-- Remind--

She ventured up to me with furrowed brow and bitten lip.  She grazed softly my face with delicate fingers.  Gazing into my eyes, I could tell her synapses were firing at speeds unknown to human-kind.  I stared back--pleading, begging, hoping--say it!  Does she dare?  Could those words I've longed to hear escape her mouth? 

And what seemed like eons multiplied by eons raised to exponent infinite...

"Honey," she says softly.
"Yes, my love?"  I can no longer wait.  I'm trembling.  Her naked vulnerability demands every ounce of my attention.

She speaks-

"Put the fucking toilet seat down."

FIN

An Epigram Concerning Robey

One could theoretically hug Robey forever if one chose to dedicate the forever necessary because forever is precisely the amount of time needed to get arms around him.

Not a Jewish Kung Fu Movie Starring Bruce Lee

Fists of Murray

Lesser Known Negro League Player Nicknames

Slappy Do-Rag Poo Poo

Pattycake Johnson

Cobblestone Knuckenicks

Old Aspergillus Face

Esther Abramowitz

Bronto-cock

The Laredo Lockjaw

Soupbone Smacker

Not Gay in Any Way Whatsoever

Not a Film About Necrophilia Starring Lee Van Cleef

Death Rides a Hose

An Epigram Concerning Charlie

In a rotunda of social obligation, Charlie- he of distilled thought and drunken warbling- commenced to crossing the room in a most haphazard way.  "A corner I must find," he bellowed. "A corner to which I may relieve my weariness!"

Double Entendre Slogan for Male Undergarments

Camouflage Boxer Briefs- So She Won't See You Coming