- The moors, when you’ve been expressly told to keep to the path.
- Frankenstein’s Castle, even if there’s a light on.
- K2.
- That abandoned summer camp where all those teens got murdered a few years ago that the creepy gas station attendant told you in no uncertain terms to stay the fuck away from.
- The middle of the road, where you see the darnedest things (if the road is actually the Nurburgring).
- A gay bathhouse, 1982.
- Parked car in Queens, 1977. (Long-haired brunettes only.)
- Soviet Union, 1929-32. (Kulaks only.)
- In between Chuck Schumer and a camera.
- The Greater Wynnewood Exotic Animal Park. (Remember Joe Exotic? Seems like a million years ago, right?)
- The Oval Office, if you are wearing a Filet-O-Fish costume.
- That bar on the edge of town called Patronpunchers.
- Bermuda Triangle. (Statistically no less safe than the surrounding waters, but it’s still the ocean, and the ocean is an inherently dangerous place that wants you dead and is full of monsters.)
- Wuhan wet market.
- Golden Corral.
- Murderswamp. (It is not named that ironically! Do not go to Murderswamp! It is so much worse than the Everglades!)
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Author: Thoughts On The Dead (Page 39 of 1031)
- Fuckwits.
- Steakheads.
- Brain-lackers.
- Soggy waffles.
- Thickies.
- Slapdicks.
- People who think reverse mortgages are a sound decision.
- The addlepated.
- Fuckers who were never taught the difference between “freedom from” and “freedom to.”
- Brad Pitt, because covering up his face would be a crime. (But he is quarantining, so Brad’s good.)
- Goddamned idiots.
What in the world ever became of Sweet Jane? She moved to Mumbai.
All of you. No exceptions.
Once, I had a monkey.
Or should I say
He once had me.
My monkey would play
Leap about, frolic, all that activity.
Ooh-ahh-ahh–ooh.
All fucking day, man.
That furry sumbitch would gambol.
Which is where he got his name.
Michael Gambol.
Never fucked me,
Tho he tried.
(I only count penetration as fucking, and he just rubbed athwart.)
Maybe I would’ve let him.
Maybe I should’ve let him.
I taught him to smoke, too,
But he couldn’t work the lighter
On his own.
Helluva monkey, MG.
You come across one like him?
Make that monkey yours.
- Richard Simmons was gay.
- Mr. T didn’t have any tricks other than looking like that.
- Reagan didn’t like jellybeans; he loved them.
- Margaret Thatcher masturbated irregularly, but always to Faces of Death III.
- Time was not actually traveled in Back to the Future, or the sub-par sequels.
- Not one ghost was busted: All special effects!
Are you SHOCKED by these revelations yet? As SHOCKED as you were when you found out (or recalled) that Howard Stern did blackface for the Clarence Thomas sketch? Are you SHOOOOOOOOOOCKED?
- Athletes and movie stars, even ones with wholesome images, schnorfed the flakey-flake.
- Despite the name, you didn’t have to join a club to purchase a Members Only jacket.
- The “Miracle on Ice” was by definition not a miracle.
SHOCKED? CHOSKED? YGIYTP#? Have these disclosures FUCKED YOUR BRAIN like the fact that the man behind Butt Bongo Fiesta was racially insensitive during an era in which racial insensitivity was chuckled benignly at by the dominant culture?
All right, all right. We get it.
They got him, man. They got Howard. I hope no one finds out he used to talk about his penis.
Yeah, yeah. Enough.
And a bababooey to y’all.
Warren, that suit is you. You’ll get some leg tonight for sure.
PLUS he pooches the lyrics in the bridge, which is always fun.
Hey, Billy.
“I have’t fucked the sheep.”
Jesus, I hope not.
“I have rented them out for sexual purposes. Regularly. The guy who’s coming by in an hour is here three or four times a week. Better than a stimulus check, I tell ya.”
Stop pimping out your livestock.
“Can’t make me! Besides, I’m sending some cash to Black Lives Matter. Or something similar, at least.”
Similar?
“It’s not the official organization, but the money goes to black people. Women, specifically.”
You’re just signing up to private porn sites, aren’t you?
“Man, you know me.”
Yeah.
“They take requests! I make ’em put spatulas up their butts.”
Why?
“How else are they gonna flip the pancakes?”
We’re done.
1/4/71 from the Paris Theater, which for some reason is in London.
Hey, Bobby. Graduation festivities still going on?
“Oh, yeah. It’s like a Polish wedding. Or a cricket game. Never-ending.”
That sounds fun.
“It’s been a hoot. I’ve eaten my weight in shrimp the past few days.”
Awesome.
“Sure. Proud moment, y’know. I didn’t graduate high school, so this is a big deal.”
I’m happy for you and your family, Bobby.
…
“I feel like you wanna talk about the toppermost.”
It’s a new one!
“Oh, yeah. This is my party ‘most. The last one was strictly for ceremony. It’s, uh, the difference between camos and dress blues.”
If you say so. Does this toppermost have names? Josh told me they all have names.
“Uh-huh. This is Lightning Holds Grudges Against Umbrellas, which means something in Japanese, apparently. It’s some sort of religious saying. The guy tried to explain it to me for a good hour, but my mind wandered.”
Any special features?
“It’s not just comfortable, it’s comfortwilling.”
Wow.
“And the left sleeve has a pouch for ether.”
Party ‘most.
“You bet.”
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