Ranking Nothing in Particular

What a difference loads of mispronounced grapefruit make!

Top 5, April 21, 2008:

1. Tiger spleen drops not from India
2. Clandestine mortification at disciples of glue
3. Rebellious grandmasters posing as insect dung
4. Guys named Ed whose glasses fog upon sudden bouts of delirium
5. Tiebreakers that end in /n/

Top 5 when removing the nexus of Hendershorts:

1. Acid rain devoid of vinyl Jed Clampett impersonators
2. Laughing at a drunk’s dangling participle
3. Municipal cool dudes, strutting their socket wrenches
4. Dependence upon formaldehyde groupies
5. Dyspepsia removed from the souls of wailing grapes

Tax Day Advice (Actually Random Musings)

If I were ever talking to myself and then suddenly realized someone was in the next stall, I would pretend I was on a cell phone call and say, “You idiot! You do that and it won’t detonate!”

When ranking the melodiousness of 3^rd century dental ailments, I would have to place pericementitis first, although one could make a case for pulpitis.

I firmly believe that Speedy Gonzalez could beat the Road Runner in a short sprint (say, across a room), but would lose miserably at any distance over a half mile.

Mules blasted into outer space would be cool, unless one of them got injured. Then Houston would have to listen to wailing and braying until they got tired of it and exploded the rocket.

I don’t believe Einstein died of an aneurysm. I think he solved time travel, but the technology eventually got into the wrong hands and so, to cover their tracks, the bad guys went back in time and killed Big Al before he actually invented the very system they were using to murder him.

Based on their descriptions, one would think that hot fudge over ice cream was a dumb idea and auto racing would be cool, not the other way around.

If formal diagnostic testing could be used to help scrutinize the leftist leanings of those who like to dress up as albino armadillos, I would worry that the backhoe contingency would do little more than describe saucers of malt liquor.

Although most Americans don’t believe in dictatorships, you have to admit that it’s kind of cool how we might continue handing the presidency back and forth between 2 dysfunctional families.

Tromboning: Myths vs. Facts

Myth: The mainstream tromboning media have a bias against rust belt players.

Fact: Within the past 2 years, sections from the Cleveland and Toledo symphonies, as well as that of the Gary Pops, have been featured favorably in both Trombone Monthly and Sliding with Sly. Moreover, the first and third chairs from, respectively, Miami and Fresno, have been blasted by the same major publications during this time period.

Myth: The mouthpiece makes the player.

Fact: A nice piece is great, but without decent lip action, you might as well blow a woodwind.

Myth: Pulling the pipe results in greater bell size.

Fact: It may seem that way at the time, but overall mass doesn’t change.

Myth: The Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s one-liners about “slide extension” are the filthiest trombone jokes known to man.

Fact: Only for those with short memories. Back in the day, members of the London Philharmonic told tromboner jokes that were more vulgar than a cellist in heat.

And finally…

Myth: Simply owning a Bach large bore makes one more arrogant.

Fact: 2 words—Niel Loebig.

Some Good April Fools' Pranks

Sneak up on your best friend’s wife and, when she’s least expecting it, break her arm.

Take a dump on your boss’s desk. When he asks who did it, say it couldn’t have been you because yours smell like peppermint.

Tell your children that mommy and daddy are getting a divorce because they can’t stand to be around kids who fight all the damn time.

If your girlfriend is feeling amorous, kiss her passionately. Then blindfold her and tell her you have a kinky surprise. Once this step is completed, quietly sneak in your roommate to finish the job.

Go into a co-worker’s office when he isn’t there. Pour beer all over the carpet. Call in the boss and ask if he thinks your colleague might be drinking on the job.

When the meeting chairperson isn’t looking, perform surprise titty twisters on other committee members.

Power staple a slide trombone to a stranger’s back.

Replace your roommate’s mouthwash with cerebro-spinal fluid. If he’s a major league baseball player, do the same to his syringes.

Ask your girlfriend if she wants to rent The Godfather. When she goes out to get it, place a bloody horse’s head under her sheets. Wait 3 hours for the merriment to ensue.

In permanent marker, write “I eat sh*t” on your sleeping spouse’s forehead. Make sure he or she oversleeps and has to rush out quickly in the morning. And hide all the hats.

Call a subordinate into your office. Tell him that you’ve received numerous reports that he’s a Nazi. Turn on a tape player and say, “According to federal law, I’m required to record your response.”

If you’re an identical twin, threaten to break up with your brother’s girlfriend unless she bears you a son.

And, lastly:

Make your mother think she’s pregnant by climbing back into her womb.

Numero 151-160 Central American sayings....

160. Somos los verdaderos americanos
159. Vaminos Liquidos Poopos
158. El Kaline Spleeno Juico
157. La Trombona Magnficent, El Producto mucho bueno musico
156. ¿Cuál es el precio de la especial Spitzer?
155. Loebig come Muncy la vagina
154. I puke, por lo tanto, i am
153. My name jose jimenez
152. I mi izquierda obnoxion cuchara hasta su culo
151. Sus testículos como el sabor del pene britney

Af-Am Veterans for Truth Raise Questions About Obama

A group calling themselves “African-American Veterans for Truth” is questioning the veracity of Barack Obama’s assertion that he is of African ancestry. Claiming to be former colleagues of the Illinois senator, this newly formed organization is going public with what they term “the real story.”

The leader of the group, who goes only by the name “Cement Head,” had this to say about the presidential candidate: “It’s falsehood, that’s all it is, claiming to be African-American when you’re clearly not. It would be like a stapler pretending to be wiffle ball, you know?” Other members chimed in on the topic as well.

“He’s not been honest with America,” said one unidentified woman. “We have what I consider sound evidence that he watches NASCAR.”

“A friend of mine knows someone who heard Lee Greenwood coming from his car stereo,” added a middle aged man who wished to be identified as H. “All I’ll say is the next time somebody says ‘all African-Americans raise your hands,’ you can bet he won’t.”

Although admitting he never met Obama, or saw him in person, Cement Head stated that he grew up “just a few states” from Illinois and that he “knows and hears shit.” He was not as quick to respond to the question of why his group is called “African-American Veterans for Truth” when neither he nor any of his cohorts are black.

“Now Obama can see what it’s like,” he finally opined, adding that “at least one” of the members is a veteran.

“So we’re basically representing ourselves honestly.”

BREAKING NEWS!

Lincoln’s Trombone has been provided with a copy of a phone conversation that we believe to be authentic. (Well, we paid $29.95 for it….)

Client #8: "Hey ya, Kirsten, this is your favorite john!"

Kirsten: "Hugh Grant! I've been waiting to hear from you, honey!"

Client #8: "No, goddammit, this isn't f**king Hugh Grant. It's George Foxx."

Kirsten: "I don't know a Georg.... Oh wait a minute! I remember you! You paid me $10,000 to jack you off while you were kissing a picture of that insurance dude. Greenspan, Greenman...something like that. I really didn't think I'd hear from you again after our last time."

Client #8: "Hell yes, bitch. I've been so damn lonely. It's really hard being me. I thought of a cute hooker joke for you! What do you ask a guy who gives you $25k? Spitzer Swallows! GET IT? HAHAHAHA!"

Kirsten: "Ummm, thanks. I'll try to remember that one. Hey did you ever get that big nasty red spot checked? I am a little nervous."

Client #8: "Why be nervous baby?"

Kirsten: "Well after that session we had with the goat and the Albanian dwarf.....well, you can't be too careful. Oh yeah, that chick that was married to the Clanton dude. What was her name? It was kinda like that dude that went to the South pole. HA? Just like you like to do! Anyways...is she coming again? HA another joke! No, is she JOINING us again? I don't like it when shes there. She doesn't tip very well..."

Client #8: "No, she isn't coming....I mean...HAHA, isn't joining us this time. She's found another piece of shrubbery. OK, so what's the deal? We gonna hook up tonight or what? I took some cialis, but dammit if it didn't get used up when I was shaving! I am dead, f**king sexy!"

Kirsten: "Yeah, right....I guess so. My hand always cramps up trying to hold your little thingy..."

Client #8: "Listen bitch, for $5k you think you could at least pretend that I was well-hung...after all, it's the motion of the ocean, right? AND be careful...(whisper) you never know who might be listening...

Kirsten: "Oh yeah, that reminds me. This dude from the IRS called and said that I owed some taxes and that I could either pay him back by f**king him or f**king you. Guess which one I chose, haha!"

Transmission ends......

Emily Dickinson and Andy Sipowicz visit Boston

“Copley is a veritable ruby, lathed in restaurants, drawing me as a clasp secures.”

“Clasp this.”

“Oh my! Would food not you partake at present? Then perhaps Fenway beckons.”

“I wouldn’t go to that craphole if you lined up shots with your t*ts.”

“Where then—St. Charles in its spotted splendor?”

“Sure. And after I p*** in that toilet, what then?”

“Forest Hills, my good man, as yea matches beauty to the wreckage of solitary lives.”

“Sounds like a riot. Walking on dead guys. Why don’t we find a pool hall in Formaggio and ask a couple of punk locals to step outside?”

“Violence is purple, killing my soul! The sun and forest know but an adder’s tongue.”

“Uh, sure thing, genius. If it helps, I’m sure the guys in the pool hall will give you something to tongue.”

“Malevolence! Your boggy lack of cordiality welts in me the sadness of distant memory!”

“Does that mean you want to do it?”

“Sir! Your utter crudeness…uh, actually, OK sure.”

Obscure facts that I am absolutely certain of

You know, in this mad rush of a world we live in, much uncertainty exists. In fact, we are constantly bombarded with a certain modern relativism that suggests that nothing we hold dear is certain. Just today, I found out that Moses was not a prophet, did not see God. He was a BC junkie; a historical version of Jimi Hendrix. Proof is here . As the day wears on into night, I realize that I cannot be sure of virtually any significant fact or belief that I have held true to this point in my life for fear of being publicly reprimanded or proven wrong. (Can you just imagine what Moses day would be like???) So, to preserve my sanity, I have created a list of obscure facts that I am ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN are true. I am currently considering whether this list of ten items could be the basis for a new world religion. I guess after some discussion , we could decide this as a group.

1. Enlarged left testicles can cause some awkward package positioning.
2. Yeat's Beast lives and is embodied in a modern female political figure.
3. My charcoal grill is having an affair with the neighbor's cat.
4. Sal Muncy is not a real person.
5. The preacher dude in Chariots of Fire died of aids. (He shouldn't have 'run' on Sunday)
6. There is a hidden Mickey in my pubes.
7. Texas (sucks) emits a distinct odor.
8. I don't understand toe fetish.
9. Flaggledrop is not particularly obtuse.
10. Martha Hicks sucks dead donkey d**ks (or so a kid in 7th grade told me)

Leap Day Thoughts

As February 29 only comes around every whatever it is (14 or 15 years?), it marks a perfect time to take a break from the mundane and contemplate life’s larger questions. As a public service, I will provide some concepts for our readers to wrap their minds around on this Leap Day 2008. Happy thinking.

How can the universe keep expanding? What’s out there beyond it? And if it’s nothing (not even space), what would that look like?

How can pi be infinite and the universe not?

If there are parallel universes, is there a me out there who didn’t tell Erika Elaniak to take a hike?

Can people really make deals with the devil? And if not, how do you explain David Lee Roth?

If diarrhea dehydrates you, would holding it in keep you moist?

Are there bowl games in heaven? If not, how do they waste away New Year’s Day?

When guys tell stories that involve taking a leak, why do they invariably hold their right hands like they’re gripping a can of Fosters?

Why didn’t they make crap a cuss word? It’s got 4 letters, it refers to a bodily function not discussed in polite company, and it sounds vulgar—in short, all the usual prerequisites for profanity. And yet, it never achieved such status.

Were down actually the dreams of black spotted puppies, would geese be any less mobile in the rain?

Why does armpit hair stop growing after it reaches a certain length?

What would happen if Jack Bauer and Jason Bourne were hunting each other down?

And finally,

If the backhoe contingency were followed to the letter, would basic delays of gamesmanship result in an infiltration of the obtuse combination of regulations known as flaggledrop?

Words that almost rhyme with douche-bag

The top 15, as of 3:36 CDT, February 27, 2008

15. GeorgeHWGeorgeWJebandtherest-Bush
14. Mecha-Streisand
13. Estrada-able
12. Antelope pecker-puss
11. Bric-a-Brac
10. Loebid-ness
09. F*****g-Liberace
08. Slide-salve
07. Yeat's-Beast
06. Hussein-Orgasm
05. Bill-ary
04. Kaline-splenectomy
03. Mortgage-banker
02. Diffenbach-Texas
01. Boomer-Backer

Duke’s Mailbag

Hey, I get mail too!

Dear Duke of Coagulation: Based on your recognition of both poetry and prose, I have to say that you’re clearly a literary sort of guy. My question is this: Why do SBDs stink so much? Especially the ones that burn. Mookie Saluki

Dear MooSal: What—they don’t have a literature department there at SIU? Let them handle your question.

Dear Duke: You clearly know a lot of celebrities (e.g., Al Kaline, Ted Nugent, General Fester). Have you ever met Diffenbach? Old Doc Potter

Dear Sherm: Have I ever met Diffenbach? Does Millard Fillmore kick ass?

Dear Duke: Are these letters real or composed by you? Milt Laerton

Dear ML Junior or Senior (whichever one you are): Most are real. Yours, however, is one I made up.

Dear Duke: How about mine? Niel Loebig

Dear DUQB: Seems real to me.

Dear Duke: What kind of an idiot would waste his or her time reading your asinine blog? Man’s Man in Boise

Dear Ma’ma’s Boi: The classification schema for idiocy is based on a number of parameters—intelligence, impulsiveness, and childishness, to name but a few. Those who frequent this site tend to be characterized by traits clustering within the alpha subclass of the factor butthead. Also guys who like to say “Ooga!” in high voice.

In Honor of President's Day

A little known list of some 'dirty little secrets', in honor of the day.....

1. George Washington, 1789-1797 – frequent snatch grabber
2. John Adams, 1797-1801 – had boils on his left testicle
3. Thomas Jefferson, 1801-1809 – ‘spoke’ to the spirits of dead spleens
4. James Madison, 1809-1817 – dressed up like Dolly’s sister and played nurse
5. James Monroe, 1817-1825 – little known ‘doctrine of flatulence’
6. John Quincy Adams, 1825-1829 – friends called him JQ polyp popper
7. Andrew Jackson, 1829-1837 – known for his shadow puppet likeness of a dead wolverine
8. Martin Van Buren, 1837-1841 – discouraged when his pet rock urinated on his new shoes
9. William Henry Harrison, 1841 – smoked the wildwood weed with Dick Johnson
10. John Tyler, 1841-1845 – first foot fetish POTUS….
11. James Knox Polk, 1845-1849 – average guy in the list, but his **** tasted like ****
12. Zachary Taylor, 1849-1850 – spent hours pondering the asterisk
13. Millard Fillmore, 1850-1853 – GREATEST PRESIDENT NEVER ELECTED
14. Franklin Pierce, 1853-1857 – world class dingleberry collection
15. James Buchanan, 1857-1861 – kept saying ‘turd burglar’ during inaugural address
16. Abraham Lincoln, 1861-1865 – greatest Trombonist to ever sleep with Mary Todd
17. Andrew Johnson, 1865-1869 – spoke profanity in strict Elizabethan method
18. Ulysses Simpson Grant, 1869-1877 – had a doll collection all named “Jeffie Boy”
19. Rutherford Birchard Hayes, 1877-1881 – breast fed until he was 42
20. James Abram Garfield, 1881 – first woman president
21. Chester Alan Arthur, 1881-1885 – invented the ‘festering puss’ sarsaparilla
22. Grover Cleveland, 1885-1889 – irritated parents by filing name change to “Kalamazoo”
23. Benjamin Harrison, 1889-1893 – spanked pet gerbils before feedings
24. Grover Cleveland, 1893-1897 – sang in the tub, fully clothed
25. William McKinley, 1897-1901 – the original ‘heartbreak of psoriasis’
26. Theodore Roosevelt, 1901-1909 – ‘bully’ meant ‘fu**stick’
27. William Howard Taft, 1909-1913 – consumed his first VP candidate (and a side of gravy)
28. Woodrow Wilson, 1913-1921 – until 1993, most practiced POTUS in the Kama Sutra
29. Warren Gamaliel Harding, 1921-1923 – collected toenails of former First Ladies
30. Calvin Coolidge, 1923-1929 – bladder control issues highlighted his term
31. Herbert Clark Hoover, 1929-1933 – bowel control issues highlighted his term
32. Franklin Delano Roosevelt, 1933-1945 – first POTUS to say ‘obnoxion’ in a speech
33. Harry S. Truman, 1945-1953 – kept opening the icebox after hearing the fruit ‘talk’
34. Dwight David Eisenhower 1953-1961 – first POTUS to bang Marilyn
35. John Fitzgerald Kennedy, 1961-1963 – second POTUS to bang Marilyn
36. Lyndon Baines Johnson, 1963-1969 – last POTUS to bang Marilyn (sick, I know)
37. Richard Milhous Nixon, 1969-1974 – gambled away life savings on aardvark fights
38. Gerald Rudolph Ford, 1974-1977 – incredibly graceful, often did the samba naked
39. James Earl Carter, Jr., 1977-1981 – largest porn collection of POTUS (until 1993)
40. Ronald Wilson Reagan, 1981-1989 – Originally named each of his children “Bonzo”
41. George Herbert Walker Bush, 1989-1993 – liked to trick or treat dressed as M. Fillmore
42. William Jefferson Clinton, 1993-2001 – first non-inhaling virgin POTUS
43. George Walker Bush, 2001- thinks Iraq is just outside Coral Gables

Ranking Nothing in Particular

What a difference 10 minutes makes!

Top 5, February 15, 2008, 11:29 a.m.:

1. Spleenie squeezin’s from Motown
2. Notes heard within the confines of a Nehru jacket
3. Blasted pork home facades designed to fool sarcastic South Dakotans
4. Gargoyles that resemble fish-hook nipples
5. Yelling “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie!” solely to confuse whaling pundits

Top 5, February 15, 2008, 11:19 a.m.:

1. The night that foam battered Karch Kiraly’s spork
2. The personification of gas as a .300 hitter
3. Cantilevered industrial tangelos
4. Blowhole wheeze with harmonica accompaniment
5. Frankly giving 2 sh*ts

10 Valentine’s Day Presents That Might Surprise Your Mate

1. Pork

2. Snow tires

3. A dramatic interpretation of crotch rot

4. A wiener puppet portraying the head and torso of surgical pioneer Johann Diffenbach

5. The Ironic Smegma Boxed Set

6. A titty-twister

7. A “19-0 = History” sweatshirt

8. Millard Fillmore’s decaying corpse

9. A life sized cast of your proudest turd

10. Diamond spleenlets

Potential Names for English Football Teams

1. Silly Nannies
2. Meat pie and a pint, mate.
3. The Dentists
4. Revolutionaries
5. Sheep Bangers
6. Freudian Slips
7. Chartered Accountancy R Us
8. Potter Party
9. Churchill's Busteirs
10. Sniveling Piles of Pretentious Poo

An Editorial Writer with a Short Attention Span

Presidential candidates, and this runs across party lines, are making a big mistake by leaving Syria out of their Middle East discussions. Let’s face it—say, isn’t there a Syria in Illinois? Or is it—what am I thinking of? Maybe Northwestern—boy, was their football team bad this year or what? They’re the Eddie Money of college football. Baby hold on to me; give me a break. What does that even mean? Hey Eddie—hold this!

Most Eddies, I’ve noticed, are named Edward; damned few are Edwin. On the other hand, Edwin Pope writes for the Miami Herald, the paper that had Carl Hiaasen and Dave Barry on staff at the same time—wonder what that was like. I also wonder about balloons. If a kid let go of me and I drifted up to the clouds, that would be scary as hell. Still, “cumulonimbus” is kind of a cool word. Not as cool as “uvula”, but pretty cool nonetheless.

Cartoonists always draw the uvula when a character has his or her mouth open wide. It’s become habit now to write “his or her” where before I always had to make an effort to remember. Some people call it PC, but most of them don’t even know what PC means. In that respect, it’s sort of like “internist.” It’s tempting to assume those guys are still learning. But when you assume…you know the rest.

I first saw that when-you-assume thing on The Odd Couple. I once met a set of twins that were sort of like Oscar and Felix, except they were females. Twins do some peculiar things. I wonder if all that telepathy stuff is real. I know there sure are some weird stories about separated twins who know more about what the other one is doing than would seem possible.

Something that’s impossible at my local Burger King is actually getting the order right. I order the same thing every time and not only is my meal always different, the price is too. I never cared for The Price is Right. Too many weirdos. Sort of like Devo. What was the deal with those hats?

Dr. Seuss based “The Cat in the Hat” on a list of recommended words for children to learn. Recommendations can be touchy business. If you think someone needs a psychologist, how do you tell them? In that sense, it’s a bit like halitosis.

Women seem to remember the bad breath thing more than men do. When they eat fish or onions, they cover their mouths when talking. I know only one male who does that and he’s not from America. He’s been here most of his life, but grew up somewhere in the Middle East. It might have been Syria. Coincidentally, I was just thinking about that particular nation. To my way of thinking, presidential candidates, and this runs across party lines, are making a big mistake by leaving Syria out of their Middle East discussions.

But that’s a topic better left for another day.

Questions to ask on Super Bowl Media Day

Are you guys going to try to win, or just keep from getting blown out?

Do you like me?

Who would you rather, you know—your wife or a Dolphins cheerleader?

As a follow-up, why do your cheerleaders look like an Iditarod sled-pulling team?

Have you ever vomited handkäse on the side of a stagecoach museum?

How hard was it to look your coach in the eye after you found out he’s a cheater?

Why isn’t Adrian Petersen here? He’s a lot better than you.

What’d you think when The Bachelor didn’t select any of the remaining babes?

If you had even half the personality that Peyton does, do you think you’d get more endorsements?

If you had even half the personality that your brother does, do you think you’d get more endorsements?

Are New Yorkers like me—do they giggle every time someone says Y. A. Tittle’s name?

Who’s your favorite Romanticist? And don’t say Blake!

When did Boston fans go from “nobody is as unlucky as us” to “nobody knows how to win like we do”?

Do you realize that every boxer alive thinks you play a pussy sport?

I heard the public schools in New York City are awful. Do you find your fans to be somewhat stupid?

Which of your teammates would you say has the sluttiest wife?

If you were gay, would you find me attractive?

Is it true that the word “Massachusetts” is Native American for “the smegma is caking”?

Think that Strahan guy ever heard of dentistry?

Without naming names, how many of your offensive linemen are on steroids?

Where’s Tiki?

A Review of "The Remarkable Millard Fillmore"

Whatever happened to David Huddleston, star of The Kallikaks? How many quarterbacks (e.g., Jeff Komlo, Tim Rattay) were promoted as the next Loebig, only to dissolve into anonymity?

And when was the last time you saw neon letters announcing, “In Concert Tonight: Ronnie Montrose!”?

Apparently, author George Pendle never considered such questions. Or, if he did, he didn’t bother to explore them in his new book on the great Millard Fillmore. What’s even more remarkable about Pendle’s omissions is that he notes in his preface that 1) Fillmore’s manuscripts were written in ballpoint pen and 2) ballpoint pens were invented more than half a century after the man’s death. He attributes this supposed inconsistency to the president being ahead of his time rather than delving into the explanation more consistent with known Internet accounts; of course, I’m referring to time travel.

Now obviously I’m not suggesting that our 13th president could trek through time. That would be asinine. A far more plausible explanation is that post-mid 20^th century minor celebrities found a tear in the space-time continuum that led them to the 1850s. Those who dared journey (Huddleston, Komlo, Montrose, and so many others) soon found themselves in the presence of Fillmore which, by all accounts save Pendle’s, is a rather intimidating place to be. Let’s just say that the spells of their “celebrity”, not to mention several of their facial bones, were soon broken.

And that’s another thing. Pendle portrays Fillmore as a dense, naïve, and delicately sensitive fruit basket of a man. Time-travelers, of course, tell a different tale. They speak of a coarse and terrifying individual who would use his lateral incisors to rip the faces off his enemies, or even his subordinates if he needed to get someone’s attention (Note: He killed some of today’s celebrities in this very manner, although they do not make the trip to the 1850s until after this review is published).

The representation of Fillmore as some sort of 19^th century Barney/Colonel Klink hybrid (and, by the way, what do you suppose ever happened to them?) is particularly odd given that Pendle provides us with a detailed and spot-on characterization of wife Abigail. Correctly, she is noted to be intelligent, insightful, and relatively funny in a Carol Leifer sort of way. But the author stops short of explaining why such a woman would marry a dullard like the Fillmore he depicts. The implication, I suppose, is that Abigail was roughly as desirable as a pack mule, but my guess is Pendle knows better. After all, his very first day of research would have surely uncovered the famous quote by Zachary Taylor (whom Fillmore succeeded into the presidency):

“Members of the cabinet, I congratulate you upon the high state of prosperity to which the goodness of Divine Providence has conducted our common country. Let us invoke a continuance of the same protecting care which has led us from small beginnings to the eminence we this day occupy. By the way, before Fillmore gets back from his squat, did anyone happen to see Abigail in that new Victorian number? I swear to God, her ass never quits!”

There are other instances too in which Pendle displays remarkable research skills, then fails to deliver the entire story. He describes, for example, the Anti-Masons’ hidden chamber in the New York statehouse, but never connects that to (or even mentions) Fillmore’s later and quite similar White House room for sentences that have never been uttered. Later, the author touches upon Fillmore’s experimentation with cross-dressing, but neglects its obvious association with Flip Wilson’s 1987 “groin pull”. Finally, Henry Wells is referenced briefly (primarily as a vehicle for Pendle to mock those with disabilities), but the public ass-kicking Wells received from John Melendez is conveniently ignored.

All in all, I would have to say that Pendle employs an interesting take on some elements of the Fillmores’ life. Had he simply followed his investigative leads, however, his account could have been so much more.

An Interview with Ted Nugent

In something of a surprise development, the Motor City Madman agreed to a sit down with one of our interviewers. What follows is a transcript of that meeting.

Lincoln’s Trombone: Ted, you’ve been made fun of several times on this blog. In fact, we’ve often portrayed you as a complete idiot. So I have to ask: Why did you agree to this interview?

Ted Nugent: F**kin’ A, man. Hey-ya, bee-ouch! Ya ya ya ya ya ya ya!!

LT: As a child, the story goes, you were something of a classical guitar prodigy. Any truth to that?

TN: That’s some sh*t, mutha-F! Hilary sucks! Wango tango! YEAHHHHH!!!!

LT: Why did you switch to rock and roll?

TN: I knew…Oh, I knew…I knew, mutha f**ker…that I had to have me some dat pus-say! Yeah, ya ya ya ya ya ya ya, bitch!

LT: In your ‘70s hey day, you packed stadiums coast to coast. Those must have been some heady times.

TN: Obama sucks too! Whah-HAH!!!! Oh baby! Oh baby! I like me them guns!

LT: You appeared in an episode of ‘That ‘70’s Show.’ What was that experience like?

TN: It was like WAH! Like WAHH!! Ay-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi!

LT: Tell us how the fascination with hunting began.

TN: Bill Maher never call no more, that mutha f**—I ever see that pussy, I’ll kick, I say I’ll KICK…oh yeah, I’ll kick…I’ll kick his ever lovin’ ass! I will I will I will I will I will. I will, mutha!

LT: Some entertainers shy away from expressing their political views for fear it distracts people from their art. Do you ever think about that?

TN: I worry about what ain’t sh*t, ya dig? Aw-right, aw-right aw-right aw-right! YEAH-HAHHHH!!

LT: So what are you doing these days?

TN: [7 minutes of unintelligible screaming]

LT: Well Ted, thank you for your time.

TN: [3 more minutes of screaming] …and f**k you!

Duke’s 2008 Resolutions Involving German Cheeses

I resolve:

To never vomit handkäse on the side of a stagecoach museum

To one day prance amongst the milbenkäse of yesteryear

To at least once stink like one of Heidi Klum’s romadur belches

To understand the relationship between Bavaria blu and the phrase “Eat me”

To tell the world that cambozolais is actually about as German as Nipsy Russell’s manboobs

To wish the lightness of heart inherent in weisslacker was stocked toward planets that worship Millard Fillmore

To say “gorgonzola” in such a way that an audience of hog farmers scream like girlish garden gnomes

To respond to an order of harzer by saying, “Honey, this is as harz as it gets!”

To repay the miller for Klutzer Gold spilt during deciduous decades

To admit the inherent mystery observed in each slice of nillekas

And finally,

To say steinbuscher without blushing like a monitor lizard

Ranking Nothing in Particular

What a difference a new year makes!

Top 5, December 31, 2007:

1. Frat boys who try to say, “Eciuj neelps s’enilak la”
2. Reviewable tapir doo-doo
3. Calculations done within the wind tunnel of a dragon’s queef
4. The old “Cheez Whiz in the urine specimen” prank
5. Jokes about corn products that talk like water polo aficionados

Top 5, January 1, 2008:

1. The comeback of Al Kaline’s spleen juice
2. Starting the bow meister on his way toward Funky Town
3. Tragedy void of fish eggs
4. Pipe tobacco scented to resemble Britney’s love handles
5. “Perhaps mine glances are a touch woozy, Admiral Kite!”

Cojoined twins Christmas returns

A note, found at a grisly suicide scene...

1. Plaid sweater from the Gap (makes us look fat).
2. Chic-Fil-A calendar (he's getting fat). **** you asshole! You are the tub of lard! Please don't go messing up my post. EAT ME.
3. Starbucks gift card (makes fat dumb**** gassy). I'm gonna kick your ass! Oh wait....you DON'T have an ass, lamebrain.
4. My turn ****stick....We are taking back that book of romantic poetry your faggot boyfriend bought you. Oh no you don't! That is my favorite gift and Harold was so sweet to think of us. US? I hat that mother-*****...always sticking his tongue in my side of our mouth! And he can't keep his hands off my ****. Your ****? I don't think so, girlfriend! But he does like your pretty little ass! SHUT THE **** UP!
5. That stupid tea set and biography of Liberace. RUBBISH you lotharian! It WILL NOT go back. I love formal tea service and Liberace was a graceful, loving human being. A man's man! You are a ****ing flaming faggot! Liberace was a turd pounder. And we won't have tea..NOT ON MY WATCH. OK, just fine. Do you want everyone to know about that night you went camping with Thad? I tried to sleep...I tried to forget about it....Great, you ***che-bag. THANKS A ****-LOAD. Now EVERYONE knows. IT WAS JUST ONE TIME. And it's your fault -made me go see Brokeback with your 'girl' friends. That's it. You've gone too far. I'm hurt. I'm taking back the Skil-Saw. The HELL you will! Thad bought that for ME! It was our first Christmas. What am I saying... I think we all know who the meat lover is in the family....OH MY GAWD....Does Mom know? I can't take this anymore....where's my 5 in one screwdriver set? PUT THAT DOWN. You'll put out our eye! Stop it! That hurts......NO!

Text ends......

A Surrealist Dog on Christmas Day

Kids up early. Let me out! Open door! Must go pee! Let me out! Make circles ‘til someone looks. They’re ignoring me! I’ll pee on the floor. I’ll do it! Wet circles of paint form mist in the construction of urban dungeons.

Finally, door open! Run, pee, go over by the bird bath, pee more, move toward the door, pee again. The unknown spirits plant severed feet beneath the basket of sleeping puppies.

Back inside. Wrapping paper being torn, discarded. Sniff a bow, smells like nothing. Everyone excited. Petunias serve as forks to kings in elderberry estates.

Room a mess. Paper scattered everywhere. New toys and clothes. Strange lighted tree still in house, blinking. Now people tired. Washing the red compass results in a wary glitch of observable time.

Finally! Someone feeds me. Dry food, no wet. Sniff first, then eat. Marionettes with daggers frighten alley cats beneath a shadowed moon.

People keep arriving. Bark, then bark more. It’s my house! You come in, I bark! Someone pets me, I stop. Shave the cast from the mummified remains; the energy of ancient thought floats visibly, then evaporates.

Tired. Nap time. Too much running, barking. Too many people. Growl at infant touching my face. Get kicked by master. Cortical functions become levers racing in orange.

All good now. Strangers leaving, me being fed, new toys to sniff, kids happy, masters tired. Must eat, take dump, go sniffing, then nap in peace. The wind finds serenity amongst the dead as camera eyes flicker in frustration.

A Ghey Family Christmas

“Oh Father, the tree is ever so lovely this year!”

“Merci, my dear. When I first laid eyes upon it, I thought it was splendid and, with a knowing wink, said to the gentleman in the lot, ‘My good man, the Gheys simply must have this gorgeous specimen!’”

“Let’s unwrap the gifts!”

“Yes, let’s shall!”

[unwrapping noises]

“Oh my! This sweater is exquisite! My everlasting thanks, m’lady!”

“Oh Father!”

[laughter, followed by more unwrapping noises]

“The complete works of Truman Capote! A touch naughty, but I likey!”

“I’m pleased that you’re pleased!”

“Oh Father, we love all your presents. Thank you so so so so so much!”

“Shopping is even more of a treat when guided by love!”

“I was about to opine that Christmas is the best, but no.”

[gasps]

“Father, you are the best! You fill the Ghey home and hearth with such love!”

“I bow to your compliments, for I am humbled.”

“But still incorrigible!”

“Ho ho!”

“What shall we do next? Try on our new outfits?”

“Is there a foot ball match on the telly?”

“Ho ho! Foot ball?! You always were the black sheep of the family!”

“Speaking of such, Father, I have a confession. At University, I shan’t be majoring in theatre.”

[silence]

“Then what? Literature? Willst thou be a playwright?”

“Oh my! I sense a tiff arising and must ask who would like to partake in snow sledding.”

“Oh, let’s shall!”

“Yes!”

“Oh yes!”

“Not I.”

[silence]

“Say again? You’d miss such jollification? Is your heart too light for the dales on this morn?”

“Nothing like that. It’s just that someone has to prepare the hot chocolate for when the hardy sledders return from their sporty endeavor.”

“Last one out has lumps of coal in their stocking!”

Bad Santa 2007

For our 'newer' readers, it has become tradition among the staff (pun intended) of Lincoln's Trombone to offer distasteful, off-color greetings, suitable for the season. Enjoy...share...Merry ****ing Christmas!

Three openers, from the pen of Millard Fillmore.......

It's Christmas two-thousand and seven
Santa's ready for sex with his elven.
They all get up at three
For Claus to bury his tree
And they ride his red rocket to heaven.


Oh you better watch out
You better not cry!
You better not pout, I'm telling you why
Santa's giving you a dirty sanchez for Christmas, bitch.



**** the sleigh
**** the holly
**** the mall
Let's ****

Advice for the Holidays

Should a German family invite you to a Christmas costume party, and you decide to go as Fox news commentator Brit Hume, remember to sing the following song:

I’ll be Hume for Christmas.
Du kann count auf mich.
C-N-N and F-O-X
Would ne-ver hire dich…

Ironic Smegma Liner Notes

It is with great pride that I announce that I have been selected to write the liner notes for the new Ironic Smegma boxed set, due out in time for the holidays. Below is my rough draft. I welcome any comments, critiques, advice, etc.


I remember the first time I heard of ‘80s icons Ironic Smegma. The breathless coed practically screamed in my ear that I had to hear this band!

“They’re tits and beer,” her boyfriend agreed.

At that time, IS had a new age influence I didn’t much care for, but there was no denying the talent. What’s more, they stayed within themselves: The four chords they played, they played damned well.

Curious, I followed the band through the decade, watching them add 2 additional chords, 4 hairdressers, and countless spandex jumpsuits. Over and over again, I examined the video for Foreskin Hair Gel, wondering if the band had peaked. Then, of course, came their tour de force, My Spandex is Stretchin’ (Because You’re so Fetchin’). Yes, the video featured the leather bikini, but there was more to it than that. For example…there was…um…oh hell, all I remember is the leather bikini.

In any case, through all the women, fame, women, hairstyles, and more women, IS never lost touch with their essential principle: Make as much money as possible and do it damned quickly. Perhaps, when the history of ‘80s music is written, that will serve as their greatest legacy.

Ranking Nothing in Particular, Special Holiday Edition

What a difference one holiday makes!

Top 5, week of November 24, 2007:

1. Formless voices that suggest saying “AH-lou” when discussing Moises Alou
2. Florence Henderson’s false dance card
3. Statuesque lawn gnomes with bloody gums
4. Billy goats who rant about the flavor of the dress code
5. The World Series of Pork

Top 5, pre-Thanksgiving:

1. Spleen juice well behind first
2. Mispronouncing “meatus”
3. Minuscule lawn gnomes with bloodless gums
4. The curse of the odorous shaft
5. Flash drives emitting sparks of everlasting menstruation

Every College Football Message Board

There’s no way we loose this game. [Name of opponent] has no running game, no D, and there coach is a retart!

I’m with ya bro. Our third team would take em by 2 TDs. LOL!

Anyone see we got a chance of signing Laerton? Isn’t he the #1 recruit nationally? We do that, we win the next 4 NCs!

He’s coming. Mark it down.

That asshat [name of columnist] wrote that we’re “really good” but have a few areas to “tweak.” How does a f***ing idiot like that even get a column?!

LOL! Who cares what that a-hole says? If I ever see [columnist], I’ll kick his a** I promise you that!

Just another example of how the media NEVER gives us a break. Do they ever say [name of rival] or [name of other rival] need to tweak? Bastages!

Almost game time. Let’s start an official game thread so we can write down what we’re all watching.

Aw geez! [Name of quarterback] just threw an INT. When are they going to play [Backup QB]?

ROFL! You must be kidding!

I assure you, I don’t kid about football!

You ever play the game, asswipe? Some a you fems need to learn about football before you post. I’m LMAO at some a the crap I’m reading here. If you never strapped it on, don’t tell us who to play!

No reason to switch QBs. [Name of coach] knows what he’s doing.

Maybe, but [Name of offensive coordinator] is a moran!

LOL! Who cares what you think?

ROFL! Would you rather be [name of rival team] and win by cheating? That’s what most teams do. Thank God we’ve got class.

Not most teams—practically EVERYBODY cheats. I don’t know how [name of coach] plays so clean and wins. I guess that’s greatness for you. Like you said, pure class. We’ve got it, they wish they had it. LOL!

It’s almost halftime and we’re only winning by 10. Why are we so flat?

The reffing hasn’t helped. Has [opponent] gotten a single flag?

Only the ones they deserved. Meanwhile we get flagged for scratching our nuts.

The [name of conference] hates us. No big story there.

[Name of offensive coordinator] is a moran. Calling a run on 2nd and 10 doesn’t fool anyone if you keep doing it!

LMAO! You ever play the game, asswipe? If you never strapped it on, don’t tell us what to call!

Bad news on Laerton. [High school player ranking service] just announced he’s going to [rival school].

Good riddance to bad rubbish! We’re better off without him.

He wouldn’t have played a down here.

That a-hole will regret this day after we win the next 4 NCs. LOL!

3rd and 1. There out of time outs. We pick this up, the games over.

You ever play the game, asswipe? If you never strapped it on, don’t tell us how many time outs they have left!

Did that idiot [announcer] just ask who our 2nd string tailback is? Hello?! Does the name [of 2nd string tailback] mean anything to you?

ROFL!

Guess we no who the asshats in the booth our rooting for.

They did just say we were great…

LOL! That’s just speaking the truth! No credit for that.

YESSS! First down! Put it in the books, bay-bee!

My congrat’s to any fans of [opponent]. Your a good team. No disgrace to loose to us. Hold your heads up.

We’ll probably move up in the BCS after this.

Maybe, but our O sucked.

What do you expect? [Name of offensive coordinator] is a moran!

16th Century Hyperbole

"Famisheth me wot; mine starvation thou horse for vitual wouldst erstwhile absolve."

"Thine brain, O Lord, is mightiest of all peas."

"Jocluarity of thine tale hast been told of the millionth"

"Doth thou not behold thine ladies bosom? powered vessel upon them, I wouldst 'til dawn!"

"Mine appendage; glorious and mighty, bringeth measure to thy meter!"

"Emit from thy buttocks, would most surely gaggteth lowly maggot"

"Thy visage is thus homely that canine posterior wouldeth mightly improve upon"

"Width and measure of thy girth is wot immeasurable: royal elephants doth fling legumes at thy sight!"

"Kaline, thy juice of spleen, 'een gold competest not!"

Some Thanksgiving Conversation

“Please pass the stuffing.”
“Why don’t you have your new little trophy wife pass the stuffing, you f***ing a**hole?!”

* * * *

“You didn’t have to bring a dessert. We have plenty.”
“Yeah, but last year yours were a bit, oh, let’s just say tart.”

* * * *

“You did a great job on this. Not too hard, not too soft. Not too dry or juicy.”
“The aroma is absolutely yummy!”
“And the color is a perfect brown.”
“Uh…are you guys talking about the turkey or the dump I just took?”

* * * *

“Do you like my pie, dear?”
“If I didn’t, would there be 12 people seated around this table?”

* * * *

“So Joe, you married yet?”
“No. And to answer your next question, I’m still straight.”

* * * *

“These potatoes have a weird aroma.”
“Maybe you’re smelling the SBD I just cracked.”

* * * *

“What’s that noise? Oh... Hey, dogs throw up cranberries! Who knew?”

* * * *

“I think you’ll find this wine satisfying, if a bit amusing. White, but not dry; possessing a zesty essence.”
“As long as it gets my ass buzzed, it can dry the zest off my shaft for all I care.”

* * * *

“Eat the food before it gets hard.”
“Would that be so bad? Hell, that’s what I’m most thankful for!”
“Before the food gets hard.”
“Oh, right.”

* * * *

“So you’re an accountant now. Hey, sounds gripping!”
“So you’re still a smartass. Hey, grip this!”

How to Order Pay-Per-View

Here are the steps to ordering pay-per-view in my area. Your results may vary (though I’m guessing not by much).

1) Try to order the game by hitting the correct button on the remote.

2) Read an error message stating that it’s not yet available.

3) Repeat step 1 closer to game time.

4) Observe the new error message, telling you it is now too late to order this particular game.

5) Call cable customer service.

6) Wait on hold and hear ads about how great their service is.

7) Listen to customer service rep tell you the game’s not available in your area.

8) Call again.

9) Wait on hold again.

10) Get a different rep and ask if the game is available in the area.

11) Be told no again.

12) Repeat steps 8-10 until you get a rep who says yes.

13) Ask this last rep to hook up the game.

14) By then it’s halftime, so wait 15 more minutes to see if it’s actually the second half of the game for which you just paid full price.

15) If yes: Enjoy. If not, return to step 5.

Quarterfinals

Match 1: 1972 Dolphins vs. Bobby Fischer. Fischer opens well, but this is one group match that is simply too much for his insane cortex to handle. With a quick fake and limber execution, Jake Scott single-handedly snatches victory away from “The Fischer-Man” in the final seconds.

Match 2: 1927 Yankees vs. Mark Spitz. First upset of the day, as the ’27 team is surprised by Spitz’s speed and stamina. Gehrig leads a valiant comeback, but too late in the day and the Yanks fall short.

Match 3: Secretariat vs. Taylor Hicks. A complete mismatch. Big Red, fresh off his qualifying annihilation of Larry Storch, defeats Hicks before the opening bell stops ringing.

Match 4: Bill Tilden vs. Millard Fillmore. Though Vegas installed him as a slight favorite, Tilden can’t hang with the tougher and more seasoned prez. Fillmore gets the early lead and coasts.

Semifinal pairings: Dolphins-Spitz; Secretariat-Fillmore.

Rejected Disney Theme Park Atractions

Top 10, as of early this morning:

10. Simba's Buffet, featuring the grisly deaths of Timon and Poomba
9. Roy Disney's Polyp Collection
8. Regis and Kathy Lee starring in "The Rescuers go North of 90th Street"
7. "So you want to be a fairy?" narrated by Richard Simmons
6. Michael Eisner presents "Reasons I am God"
5. Interactive videos: "What lonely pirates do at sea"
4. The world is freaking HUGE, dude!
3. Discounted park hopper pass that doesn't include bathroom admission
2. Bambi's Bordello
1. Al Kaline's spleen juice adventure

Something for the Thursday-Friday Commenters

I did a little research and discovered that over a quarter of the comments we get come on Thursdays and Fridays. To show our appreciation, we will open this entry to the many end-of-the-work-week folks.

Tell us what's on your minds.

Halloween Costumes I’ve Been Unable to Find

1. That translucent liquid that squirts out the first time you use the mustard
2. The saddle sores on Lady Godiva’s ass
3. Danny Bonaduce’s star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame
4. The nose hair fairy
5. A Dolphin fan celebrating a win
6. The guitar solo from The Torture Never Stops
7. Rudy Giuliani's impersonation of Hannah Montana
8. The semaphore version of the wind beneath Abe Vigoda's scales
9. Mark McGwire’s Hall of Fame acceptance speech
10. The perfume my ex-girlfriend wore that night she vomited Boone’s Farm all over the console
11. A guy with his hand in his pants
12. An unpopped blackhead
13. Nick Smegma
14. A sporkful of Cheez Whiz
15. The act of merrily awakening to scofflaws with sunburn
16. An UFC fan on his way to a Mensa meeting
17. Cranial nerve VIII
18. Man O’ War’s rotting corpse
19. That stuff on sunny-side up eggs that looks like snot
20. Snot

Trading Places: Jack Bauer and Cosmo Kramer

While trying to bring down an terrorist cell, Kramer's weapon is entangled in his mansiere. Hilarity ensues.

Jack goes with Jerry to the Soup Nazi kitchen. After a terse exchange, Jack blows the mother f**king soup man to pieces.

Kramer promotes Frank Costanza to director of field ops in exchange for smuggling actual Cubans into the country (who turn out to be Dominican knock-offs).

Jerry complains to Elaine that Jack says 'dammit' way too much.

Kramer attempts to court Chloe by going to the ladies room to show her his 'protocol'.

Jack is seen torturing the doorman for information about Newman's whereabouts.

Kramer makes a phone call to the President about a 'sure thing' in the 4th at Aqueduct.

Elaine passes out on the floor when Jack bursts into Jerry's apartment 'commando' style.

Kramer is reprimanded by the powers that be for asking Audrey's Raines to "do the Nina for me, baby".

Jack is accused by Jerry of being a 'low-talker'.

Ranking Nothing in Particular

What a difference several ranking points can make.

Top 5, week of October 8, 2007:

1. Pedestrian greed associated with burlap panties

2. The quarter minute between mastication and deglutition

3. Coeds claiming to major in pre-Horsecrap

4. Reruns of the classic Goefflingmeyer-Horst semifinal

5. “If sweltering fistulae are so delightful, why sleep near the gravy?” (when used as an insult)


Other notables:

6. Clandestine fornicators in a buzz saw of tripe

11. Al Kaline’s spleen juice

25. One-liners about morning wood

58. Word play that leads to nose vomit

339. Carefully executed scene stealers who double as license plate tags

Words that in no way rhyme with Steve

My current list:

filching
brandished
spleenguard
Lewinsky
wassail (german derivation)
blarney
putrid
vbf
Loebidness
mandingo
splotchy crotch
maniacal melvin's mystery meat
autocoprophagy

I would usually add the word whorn or puke orange faggots, but it just pisses me off, generally (and specifically).

Feel free to add to the list.

Notable Essays, Part MCXXVII: Grappefroot

The following excerpt is from an essay, entitled “Republicans and Democrats,” written by Stanley Grappefroot, the only American writer known to simulate bodily noises every 13 syllables.

Perhaps I was naïve, but as a young adult, I—sniff—viewed American political parties far dif—ah-choo!—ferently than I do today. My mental image—BRAAACK!!—of Democrats was an idealistic son, full—[grunt]—of ideas and wanting desperately to save the—ack!—world, if only he had the money to do so. Re—BLAH! LURCH! SPLASH!—publicans, on the other hand, were the dad with the—hack!—checkbook, saying, “Son, I respect your goals, but we sim—ssssssss… “Ah, the pause that refreshes!”—ply cannot afford them all. Let us choose some and re—squeek—visit the others later.” To my way of thinking— Ptttt!—both were needed and both needed each other. Nowa—“Oof! Uh!” [Ker-plunk!] “Ahh!”—days, however, the GOP stands for power, as—Wah! Wahh!—in accumulating as much as possible, damn—ptui!—those in the way. But, unlike the Dems, at least they stand—zzzzzzzzzz—for something.

Blow Me! Lincolns Mailbag

Dear General Fester: I have recently been pet shopping and have had trouble deciding which young pup would look best on my wall (in pictures, of course). My friends won't talk to me anymore (they found new, BETTER friends). Can you help? Also, any advice you might give on keeping a recent 'test' out of the public eye would be appreciated. Signed, Falcon Forever (PS: My agent helped me write this)

Dear Canine Hitman: I knew you didn't write this letter. You couldn't spell DOG if I spotted you the D and the G. Stay out of the f***ing pet store, fool. By the by, I understand you have Fluffy rated as a 3 point favorite over Spot? Bite me, Fly boy. Say hi to your brother. Maybe they will put you two together soon. I wouldn't worry about the test; I don't think anyone knows about it!

Dear General Fester: I recently was on a really cool TV show! It was AWESOME! I took the opportunity to yell at a bitch who had said some naughty things about one of my friends. Of course, it was all true (what she said), but I figured, since I was on TV, and my hair was especially spikey, that "what the hell?" Hell, a couple of the people in the audience (Mommy and Daddy) even clapped! Why doesn't anyone like me any more? I am really hawt and smart and I have all of my teeth! Signed: Coach G.

Dear Aggie: No one likes you now? Uh, earth to stoolwater: they never did......idiot. PS: When hand feeding children with teeth, be especially careful.

Dear General Fester: Why would people intentionally mispronounce someone's name? A 'friend' of mine, with a pretty unusual name, is being called "Satan" which sounds a LOT like his real name. In fact, a rather hurtful little song was written in this space with the word "Smegma" instead of my 'friend's' real name was posted recently? How do I make it stop? Signed: Rick Fabian

Dear Satan: Repeat after me: I (state your name) promise to never, ever, Dolphins, ever (repeat it) ever, Spartans, ever (repeat) ever, Tigers, ever (repeat) ever, GO F*CK YOURSELF, ever (repeat and go to beginning and repeat continuously until you feel better)

Dear General Fester: I am just a regular gal, wondering what it takes to get into your pants? It seems that Blow Me! is mostly made up of celebrities and sports people, not just regular people like me. Seriously, how do I get lucky? Signed: PSA

Dear google search engine queen: QUIT STALKING ME. It's over, baby......

CONFIDENTIAL TO JUICE MAN: Of course I believe you! I would want my gloves back, too!

The Ballad of Nick Smegma

There was a team they called the fish
Who won most of their games.
But when December rolled around,
Their play was rather tame.

“A new coach! That will fix our plight!”
Said fans in fish-dom-land.
“Our last two haven’t won enough
“And that we cannot stand!

“There is a coach named Smegma.
“I think his first name’s Nick.
“He’ll cost a lot of money,
“But he might do the trick!”

So Smegma came and coached the fish
And drafted players new.
They couldn’t run or block or catch.
Big plays? Well, there were few.

And even though they won oft’ not,
Coach Smegma said he’d stay:
“I’m never going anywhere
“No matter what they pay!

“A promise is a promise
“As such, it must be kept!”
Nick seethed at every question as
The fish grew more inept.

But as the losses mounted up.
Fans saw Nick was a sham.
“I’m staying!” he announced once more,
Then left for Alabam.

Remember that team called the fish,
Who won most of the time?
They’re losing still. Though Smegma’s gone,
He left a trail of slime.

Point:

If life is every bit the stage player that d’Angoulême claimed she was (Roman numerals aside), it should fall to mystics, not the intellectual elite, to steer young scholars away from “backhoed” contingencies.

I await your counterpoints.

Assignment Haiku

Write about what happens when Nickelodeon characters cease to be solids and take other forms.


Patrick, great starfish;
An FM radio wave:
The two merge as one.

Diego: Now steam
From a boiling pot of grits;
His nuts no longer.

Imaginary
Is Eliza Thornberry.
(It’s kind of scary!)

Neutron’s dog Goddard
Dissipates into smegma.
Never shall he wave.

Though spirits one time,
Timmy’s Fairly Oddparents
Are pus in a zit.

Magenta, ex-dog
Now reproduces comics
As Silly Putty.

Movie Reviews, by Erik Estrada

The Godfather
Supposedly one of the greatest movies of all time. I say bullsh*t. Jon and I would have arrested the little rat bastard in a high speed chase, sans shirts. After the chase, with my bare heaving six-pack glistening in the sun, I would have said: "Looking for cannoli? Here's an offer you can't refuse: you're under arrest!"

You've Got Mail
I really like this movie. I cry every time I see it. It brings out the sensitive side in me. My astrologer says that it's tough to have jupiter in gemini and I shouldn't be worried about wearing a terri cloth robe and smelling sharpened pencils. Jon and I like to watch it together, with tissue and lots of lotion handy.

Caged Fury
Definitely my favorite movie of all time. I love women in prison. I love seeing myself in great roles that stretch my acting abilities. I really liked the part where the mime kind of randomly walks through the scene (with the monkey in the cage!). That was my idea; it made the movie more artsy. I had a big argument with the producers about my pulling a hammy right before the big prison escape scene. They said it was more believable that the sister from Oregon broke into and saved the day, since it was an all-girls prison anyway. I wanted to show off my Spanish, too, but they just told me to shut up and take my shirt off! It was awesome!

Spiderman I, II and III
Crap, crappier, crappiest. Who would believe that Seabiscuit's jockey would save the day? He's a f***ing nerd! I thought I should play Peter Parker. I have a much better body for the part and a much better Peter Parker, I've been told. (Get it? that was one of my funny jokes) I think my latino hotness would have been so much better. No way I'm an idiot photographer, though. I would have banged that high school chick rotten.

Interview with a Vampire
I love this movie! It has blood and stuff and I think Brad Pitt is totally hot. I think a bloody faced Tom Cruise may be the most sexy thing I've seen, since I watched the Chips reruns with my shirt off (did I say that again? ooops! LOL! I can't stop myself). It also has a younger version of the chick I would have banged in Spiderman. The only thing I didn't like about it is that there are no motorcycles, and of course, the fact that I'm not in it.

Oldie of the Week: Casablanca
Total piece of crap. My numerologist told me to watch it because of something that my online tarot reading said. When that happens, I always do it. But damn it, I couldn't get my tv to work. There wasn't any color and it was in English. I finally just gave up and watched the stupid thing. No motorcycles, no ME WITH MY SHIRT OFF, no funny stuff or naked women. Again, I would have banged the sh*t outta the girl and put her on the f***ing plane crying, like he did, except for the fact she would be crying in pain and knowing she would never have Ponch again, if you hear what I'm saying.

I've got to go now. I've got my daily hair appointment and then my astrologer told me I needed to go try out for some dancing show that I know is bullsh*t. Send me your movie ideas or questions and I'll do my best to answer them. Don't even think about it if you are a Taurus with a rising sign of Leo. I'll kick your mother f***ing a** for even thinking about it.

An Advice Columnist with Dementia

Dear AACwD: I think my boyfriend is cheating on me. Sometimes he smells of perfume. His car does too. More telling, I saw some provocative e-mails from “Sheila” on his computer. Do you think I should confront him?

AACwD: Good morning.


Dear AACwD: I am a recovering alcoholic at my wit’s end. My wife left me, my children (grown) don’t return my calls, and my job is soon to be phased out. I don’t want to drink, but I don’t know where else to turn. Please help!

AACwD: Sometimes my shoes are on the wrong feet. But if they weren’t, it would be double!


Dear AACwD: No matter what I do, I can’t get on my in-laws’ good side. Example: MIL tells me to bring a salad to the family reunion, even though she knows I’m a master chef. Though steamed, I complied, even made a joke about the situation (one that was met with blank stares). Any advice?

AACwD: Have you seen my driver’s license? Half of Spain is in the picture! Quite delightful, really.


Dear AACwD: My husband is so possessive, I can’t stand it! If I so much as talk to another man (like saying “excuse me” in a crowded restaurant), hubby accuses me of sleeping around. I don’t know if it’s insecurity or an overactive imagination, but I’ve about had enough!

AACwD: I must retire to the nest. Bill Tilden is coming to dinner and I mustn’t forget to fluff the nosegay!

Gridiron Musings

I think it's kind of ironic that during football season, it's OK for guys who similarly castigate their significant others for the same thing all year, to plan their wardrobe weeks in advance, to the last detail .

I'm pretty sure that when using the toilet in the stadium from now on, I won't ever reach under the stall for some TP.

Why is it that grown men act like their life is over as they know it to go shopping on the day after Thanksgiving (too crowded, traffic, bad parking lots, standing in line) yet will drop a couple hundred bucks on a September Saturday to do the same exact thing for a football game? Why am I asking you?

I'm sure if I googled it, I could easily find out the origins of 'gridiron' and 'pigskin'. However, I would be afraid to do it without 'safe search enabled'.

Why are we even bothering playing this season? USC has already claimed 5 national titles for their collection before the first damn ball was kicked.

I've been thinking about a new color scheme for penalty flags. I think they should throw pink ones for sissy penalties like encroachment (and by the way, what ever happened to calling it offsides?) and illegal procedure. I'm thinking perhaps a nice shade of orange for 10 yarders like holding, etc (because not a damn thing good happens in orange). And then, Jolly Roger flags, soaked in the blood of virgin goats (have to go somewhere besides Stillwater or Morgantown to find them) for personal fouls.

If one more ghey soccer fan says that soccer "is the real football", I'm gonna punk their sorry asses.....or maybe tell their Mom on them....

After years of picking college football winners, I've arrived at a singular truth: my picks are nearly perfect, I'm just picking the wrong year, apparently.

BOOMER SOONER!

Ranking Nothing in Particular

What a difference 47,000 light years makes:

Top 5, week of August 29, 2007

1. Dots of SJ splatter on the right field wall
2. Giving flowers to badly scripted waffle iron salesladies
3. Saxophonists who say “uh oh” when asked to introduce their skeleton keys
4. Meowing at St. Cloud’s entrance rules
5. Pork sausages in a wheelhouse dental chair

Top 5, Centuron XP5Philo

1. Smart ass light photons trespassing from Semera LT1091
2. Spiral galaxies in lacy push up bras
3. Bacterium under the guise of temperate microfiche
4. Those black hole jokes astronomers think we can’t hear
5. The punch line, “Hubble? Heck no! I think I HUMMED-ble!”

A Summary of an Unwritten Story

A celebrity party cruise goes down in the Pacific. Two survivors make it to a nearby island: comedian Bob Zany and German badminton champion Hans Goefflingmeyer. This situation becomes a classic good news-bad news scenario for Zany. Although Hans is a lifelong bully, he labors diligently, albeit silently, as the two survivors build homes, haul water, and hunt for food. Then Hans begins work on what looks to be a large platform with a primitive bench in front of it. Zany helps out, though he is unclear why such a platform is needed.

Once the platform is built, Hans proceeds to go insane for exactly one hour a day—always at nightfall. He begins speaking, but only to insist that Zany get on stage and perform a faux Tonight Show 5 nights a week while Hans watches from the bench. As Hans is a world-class athlete, Zany has little choice but to comply. The badminton champ is a good audience, laughing uproariously at Zany’s material. But insanity has not affected his memory or his passion for entertainment, and thus Zany is beaten senseless whenever he repeats a joke or states aloud that he isn’t really interviewing, say, Ally Sheedy.

Although it becomes clear that the 2 castaways will never be rescued, we learn much about the human condition by observing their behavior. It is unlikely that readers will ever laugh the same way again.

Top Ten explanations for General Fester’s absence

1. Sold into slavery by the Duke in order to prevent his publishing of the essay: “Stammering: Proctological and Symphonic Perspectives”

2. Was caught doing the War Eagle chant in downtown Tuscaloosa and subsequently given the “Dueling Banjo” treatment by the locals

3. Hospitalized after ordering a GLBT by mistake at the Broken Spoke Saloon

4. Attending a symposium on the late 1950’s trombone movement known as the “Brass Ass”

5. In crisis emotional health care after realizing that Millard Fillmore was not chosen “Man of the Year” at any time during his term.

6. Interviewing a mime

7. Just couldn’t give up on the Harry Potter movement; was seen stalking Aunt Petunia.

8. Trapped by Yeat’s Beast yet again; forced to perform untoward acts of perversion involving Underwood’s deviled ham, Duncan Hines cake mix and a crazed yak named Patty.

9. Judging an internet fight between the UCLA Bruins and the USC Trojans about who is more ghey. (Unable to decide…)

10. Driving to South Dakota, viewing the blog, driving back so that SD was represented equally with equatorial Africa

Football Season Is Upon Us

Football season is starting, and that means over the next 5 months you can expect the following:

· During a sideline interview at halftime, the coach of the team that’s ahead will be more or less pleased about how the game is progressing, but will caution that “there’s a long way to go.”
· After a play that worked in the first half doesn’t work in the second, a color commentator will inform the viewing audience that the offensive coordinator “went to the well once too often.”
· A fat guy in a sports bar, beer in one hand, cigarette in the other, will yell over his plate of onion ring carcasses that it’s time for his team to “dig deep” and you’ll wonder how deep Tubby has to dig to make it up a flight of stairs.
· Three weeks into the NFL season, some team will still be undefeated and pre-game shows will begin parading out the ’72 Dolphins.
· Six weeks into the season, you’ll grab the remote and announce to everyone in the room that you “can’t watch that damn Peyton Manning commercial again.”
· Troy Aikman will babble on about how it’s the slot receiver’s job to get open in the flat and Ijust don’tknow howaguycanpossiblyrunaroutethatbad, etc. and you’ll suddenly realize he hasn’t inhaled in over 4 minutes.
· A play-by-play announcer will yell that a punt returner has “one man to beat!” seconds before 3 guys tackle him.
· Your TV Guide will list “SEC Football” and for the third or fourth time since the beginning of the season you’ll become excited at the possibilities of who might be playing: Florida-Tennessee? Georgia-LSU? Auburn-Arkansas? Then you’ll once more deflate when you see that it’s Vanderbilt and Kentucky, two teams you’ll swear have played each other at least twice already.
· A radio sports talk host will term a caller an imbecile for expressing a theory about the local team.
· The same radio sports talk host will fawn all over some assistant coach who expresses a theory identical to that of the aforementioned imbecile.
· Chris Berman will say, “Nobody circles the wagons like the Buffalo Bills” with such conviction that, for a while, you’ll think it actually means something.
· A player on a team with only a remote chance for the playoffs will state that his team must henceforth play “one game at a time” and then “see what happens.”
· You will look at the commentators’ “Keys to the game” and think, “Score a lot of points and limit their scoring. Got it.”
· The twelfth time you hear someone say that the BCS is one letter too many, you’ll stop even pretending to laugh.
· After the Super Bowl, you know you’re going to miss football over the next 7 months, but not desperately enough to actually watch the Pro Bowl.

Inappropriate Comments Set To ‘70’s Music

Some stupid with a flare gun, burned the place to the ground…

"Sir, I assure you that my intentions with your daughter are quite honorable. But, uh, man-to-man, we all get urges, you know what I’m sayin’?"

It’s so hard to keep this mouth on my face…

"Hey Joe, I hear you’re gay. Do me a favor and tell me how I should get my hair cut."

Big ol’ jet airline-uh. Don’t carry me too far away…

"Does it make your butt look big? Not at all dear, assuming you are at this moment smuggling 2 beanbag chairs in a quarter-acre of bubble wrap."

Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me…for me…FOR MEEEEEEEE!

"If everyone is finished with the agenda items, I have some new business. Boss, that giant turd you crapped out in the second floor bathroom still hasn’t flushed down. Don’t you think you should try a plunger?"

Whose wine? What wine? Where the hell did I dine?

"It’s an honor to meet you, your holiness. Quick—pull my finger!"

Slow ride….take it ea-sy…

"Laskowski? What is that, Polish? Hey—do I have a joke for you!"

Jeremiah was a bullfrog! Was a good friend of mine…

"Why do I want this job? Hey, got to stay one step ahead of those bullsh** molestation charges!"

And she’s buying a stairway. To heaven.

Babysitting Blues

I can’t get any f****** babysitting jobs!

My plan for the summer was pick up some extra f****** cash babysitting, but I haven’t made sh** and the summer is half-f****** over! Why can’t I get f****** work? I have friends who babysit and they’re dipsh**s! Why won’t any f***nut parents hire me? And don’t give me that bullsh** about babysitting being for chicks. I know plenty of guys who do it (most of whom are a**holes with earrings and tattoos, of which I have neither!).

It’s not like I haven’t gotten jobs before. Fact is, I’m a d*** good worker. I worked construction one summer and that’s hard-a** labor! The summer before that, I was employee of the f****** month at the car wash! And when I’m not working summer jobs, I’m a straight A f****** student in college! But does any of that impress people? H*** no!

Example: A single dad needs a sitter and he f****** asks me, “Do you have a girlfriend?” wondering, I guess, whether I’ll spend the night sucking some b****’s face rather than watching his f***a** kids. I told him, “F*** yeah, I got me a piece of a**, but when I’m on the f****** clock, her a** won’t be anywhere near this place, you can bet your wife’s left t** on that, may she rest in peace.” But rather than acting reassured, he stops the conversation, like I’m lying or somef******thing. Sh**!

Then there’s the lady who asked me if I’m a partier. I tell her the truth: “I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t even like that f****** sh** that passes for rock ‘n’ roll these days.” Then I joked, “’Course, I might buttf*** your cat if I get to feeling frisky!”

Apparently, the b**** didn’t get it because I didn’t hear from her again.

Anyway, I can tell you one f****** thing: Next year I’m going back to the car wash or f****** construction site. This babysitting bullsh** turned out to be a f****** waste of what should have been a kick-a** summer!