4 x 4

People who should have been trombonists:
1. Niel Loebig
2. Stretch Marks O’Malley
3. Martin Van Buren
4. Martin Van Eat me

Unused names for racehorses:
1. Bloody Diarrhea
2. Smegmatozoan
3. The Scar on my Shaft
4. Whiz Pickle

Concepts severely divorced from cellophane:
1. Hitting behind the dyspeptic runner
2. Old Fashioned Dung Meters and the carbon dating they elucidate
3. Batting cage larks that become dirty entendres
4. Marinated centipedes in a race designed for multiple births

Nothing in particular:
1. Juicy Kaline spleen
2. Programmatic flesh tone (“Eh, Bobby?”)
3. Presidential firmaments housed in Clark Kellogg’s bath water
4. The frankness with which Tina Yothers impersonators relish their own taints

Things to do on a Trans-Atlantic Flight

Order a Pepsi. When the attendant tells you they only serve Coke, yell, “Imperialist Swine!” in a thick middle eastern accent.

Try to clear your row by telling people you need the space to simulate the moors in which you typically pray.

When the meal cart comes out, start sniffing loudly and asking the people around you, “Who farted?”

Whenever the pilot talks over the sound system, grab your head and scream, “There’s that voice again!”

Put your paperback in the overhead bin. Tear out one page. When you finish, stand up and get the next page. Continue until the book is finished.

“Accidentally” miss your mouth with your coffee, thereby spilling it on that kid behind you who keeps kicking your seat.

Smear Vaseline all over the seat back. If anyone says anything, explain that you’ll be masturbating later.

When waiting in line for the bathroom, describe your nastiest episode of diarrhea; keep track of how quickly you get to the front of the line. Race your friends.

Blow spit bubbles into the food of the first-class passengers. Tell them you’re part of their in-flight entertainment.