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!

Letter to the Editor: Trombonist Monthly

(We at Lincoln’s Trombone are proud to present this editorial and honored that our forum was chosen to break it first!)

Dear Ed:

I am a charter subscriber of your magazine. In fact, I can trace my family roots back to possession of the original Gutenberg edition of “die Holzblasinstrumente bumsen!” (Literally, **** the woodwinds) We have been loyal throughout the life span of the various publications that has become to be known as Trombonist Monthly (including “Sousaphone and sassafras”, “Trigger, the magazine for women trombonists” and more recently, “Slide Greasers”. It’s been a long and rewarding journey, UNTIL NOW।

I was incensed beyond reason to read your most recent editorial “Times be a changin!; Love a fellow woodwind”. The very thought of the words in this article bring bile to my throat (causing me to miss a high “C” when playing Moonlight Serenade at the local monthly karaoke and tuning meeting) It is simply too preposterous for words, but I shall persevere. It is a common belief, and has been since the invent of brass, that woodwinds are of lesser nobility (if at all noble), and good for only one thing (and I think you know what I mean). These ‘skirts’ of music provide much needed recreation and refreshment between sets. They do what they are told, they are subservient in all ways to us. In earlier days, dare I say it, they were ‘indentured’ to the brass.
The notion that they should be equal is ridiculous enough; the idea that they are to be equally loved and cherished is heresy। I caution to take care with your words. The last time this ‘notion’ was forward, it ended ugly in the spit valve incident of ‘53. I don’t think any of us want to return to that, do we? (I mean, for heaven’s sake, man, how do you compare fast fingering to the stroke of the slide?)

I have contacted the local 101st about this piece (of you know what)। Actions will be taken, up to and including CANCELLATION OF MY SUBSCRIPTION (yeah, you read that right).

I eagerly await your response in this space।

TROMBONISTS UNITE!

Jonas Slot

Blow Me: Lincoln's Mailbag

Dear General Fester: Love the name, bro, reminds me of an ex-girlfriend. I travel frequently around the world, recently in the UK. My question, specifically relates to British pop and something that bothers me (it nearly cost me the 5th set): Why do guilty feet have no rhythm? Signed: Roger F.

Dear Champ: Thanks for the props. (BTW, did anyone ever tell you that you look a bit like Quentin Tarantino?) Great question, the answer is quite simple, though. Consider the source of the song. Random gay sex with a variety of lovers makes for an awkward gait. Imagine trying to dance the samba with a fresh baguette inserted, proctologist style. Even worse, if you were cheating on your ‘baker’? I think you get my point. (PS: You are pronating your wrist on your forehand volley)

Dear General Fester: You’ve recently posted a thought provoking piece about Gilligan. You failed to answer the age old question: Ginger or MaryAnn? Signed: John Weekly

Dear Long baller: You are smarter than the average bear. In asking the question, you reference my picnic question, HERE. (And Yogi knows something about pic-i-nic baskets, if you hear what I’m sayin’...) Let me answer your question with a question: Do you prefer an expensive, but rare ahi-tuna from the finest restaurant in Hollywood? OR, Do you prefer the luscious sweet peach of a roadside stand in paradise? It’s easy, my friend; screw the tuna, eat the peach. (PS:Hope your sports gambling goes well!)

Dear Duke: I'm not sure what coagulation is, but I do have a personal health question. What exactly is Smegma? Thanks in advance! Signed: Michigan Wolverine

Dear M Go Goo: Perhaps this mental image will help: Think of the worst head cold you ever experienced. Now replace your nose with a foreskin.

General Fester: What the hell is a Yeat’s Beast? (Does it taste like chicken?) Did you vanquish the b*tch or does it still seek your blood? Signed: OJS Trojan

Dear Rubber: Very interesting notion. Have any tips for a rookie? (PS: Keep writing, you'll get it right one of these days.....)

Duke: You seem to have a high interest in romantic poetry. How do I talk to my girlfriend about public farting? Signed: S. Dakota Collegian

Dear SBD-sniffing SDC: It's the question that writers of love sonnets have been asking for centuries: What rhymes with flatulence? As others before you have found out, it's best to go with a synonym. Something like: That you are my gal makes me ever so proud/Except when you crank out a nasty-ass cloud.

(For more on Romanticists, see MUSINGS.)

Duke: Please discuss the influence of Jungian philosophy on monk candidates with cleft palettes hailing from Alabama. Signed: Dog-Eared Paul

Listen up, Dawwwwg: You may have me confused with someone else. I am wholly dedicated to helping those with cleft PALATES and could literally talk for hours on how Bahá'í theory alone built Mobile's best craniofacial clinics. But frankly, why monks would use split boards to hold their watercolors is beyond me.

CONFIDENTIAL TO LINDSAY L: His name is Thomas Mesereau

10 Festering Questions

1. Is this site finally finished with the Harry Potter crap?

2. Why is “ssssss” the universal sound effect for taking a leak?

3. Since Venus spins in a backward rotation, would defensive backs have the advantage there?

4. Hypothetically speaking, how well would a feral cat have to perform on an American Idol-type show if the judges were all bunnies?

5. Who would win a fart-off between students from USC (a lot of Mexican restaurants there), Florida (Cuban food), and Ohio State (with their Polish sausages and cheap beer)?

6. Is there no way the grammar police won’t do what their critics didn’t say they wouldn’t?

7. If Montana and South Dakota were one big state, would it be any less remote than New Hampshire?

8. Why do rock & rollers pretend they’re cowboys?

9. And who do they think they’re fooling?

10. Is it really 2 guys writing this blog, or 1 guy writing under 2 different names?

Rejected Harry Potter plotlines....

Harry enters a bordello, run by a certain Luna Lovegood, expecting the Friday night special. Instead, the Weasley brothers plant a sucking violet in the room. Harry gets blue balls and hilarity ensues!

Ron and Hermione decide to test her ‘blood purity’ in the broom closet. As Ron begins the test he realizes that he is stroking Mrs. Norris instead! (wrong pussy)

We meet Willie Widepecker, a famous Hufflepuff, who gave Moaning Myrtle her name.

Snape shows up to the Christmas dance in stiletto heels (LAST year’s design), leather bustier (fringed in feathers) and a smart, but sassy mini-skirt. He says that he has learned to ‘obey the dark lord’.

OJ is tried for the murders of Albus Dumbledore and Sirius Black. He is convicted and sentenced to watching Cagney and Lacey reruns.

Quidditch is banned from the school after the Slytherin team takes the field in the buff, and introduces a new maneuver; the reach around.

Erik Estrada becomes the next headmaster, showing that he knows more about mastering head than anyone on the planet, wizard OR muggle.

End of the Harry Potter franchise? I don’t think so!

Voiceover:
New on FOX this fall…

From the makers of Trapper John, M.D….

Orphan Jeffrey Number 655 learns the shocking truth: He is actually the illegitimate son of none other than the great Albus Dumbledore. Stunned by the news, he also knows that he has only one chance to live his own life. He must move out of England, away from the shadow of his famous father. Jeffery sets out to find his own fortune, landing in Tulsa.

This fall, Paul Rodriguez is…

Jeff Dumbledore, P.I.

He’s tough.

Scene: Jeff questioning a perp.

Perp: “Hey Brit-boy! Why’s your name sound so familiar? And what’s the deal with the wand? Hey, wait a sec—"

Jeff: “And why are you changing the subject, punk? I think it’s time I kicked your a**!”

Voiceover: He’s tender.

Scene: Jeff dining with a beautiful woman.

Woman: “I don’t know what—or whom—you’re running from. But I’m glad you ended up with me.”

Jeff: “Sure thing, hon. You want pepperoni on your half?”

He’s complex.

Scene: Jeff talking to a Tulsa street cop.

Jeff: “Why do you Americans say number 2 when every time you sit down to do both, you crap first?”

But most of all, he’s good…oh yeah…real good!

Scene: Two beat cops talking.

Cop 1: “Well, Dumbledore solved another one. I don’t know how he does it. It’s like he’s got something to prove.”

Cop 2: “The magic doesn’t hurt either.”

Coming to FOX this fall…

Jeff Dumbledore, P.I.

Check your local listings.

Trading Places, Part 1: Gilligan and Gil Grissom

An ongoing series, profiling the likely differences on TV shows when the lead characters trade places….

Gilligan has to resolve a work problem between Catherine and Sara; who’s picnic should he eat?

Grissom and the professor butt heads over who made the best centrifugal grinding mill using coconuts and banana leaves.

At a recent crime scene, Gilligan digs into the sand, looking for a vic, instead finds hidden treasure and Mr. Howell is dispatched to determine the rightful owner.

Grissom convinces Ginger that his “DNA Testing Rod” is used orally.

Gilligan is propositioned by a Vegas hooker, but opts for a fat chick that calls him “Lil Buddy”

Grissom is enraged to find that Mrs. Thurston J. Howell III is holding a white party after Labor Day.

Nick beats the sh!t out of Gilligan when he discovers that Gilligan has been using his hair wax to plug bullet holes.

Grissom is rudely awakened by a burning sensation in his bunghole. The skipper smilingly sleeps in the cot below.

Gilligan convinces the staff to take a short excursion to Lake Mead. They are never seen again.

Grissom escapes the island with Harold Hecuba, and stars in his new hit production: CSI: The Musical.

Ranking Nothing in Particular

What a difference 4.4 centuries make:

Top 5, July 18, 2007

1. Au jus from lightly broiled right fielder spleen
2. Electric balloons, up to and including the nubs who floss anywhere near them
3. Crayon-shaped pork in a downpour of rennin
4. Cleavage rangers and their assholier-than-thou attitudes
5. Mountaineers, Huskers, and Razorbacks who claim to be from Vermont-New Hampshire border towns, despite being seen repeatedly on the Montana side of the Dakotas


Top 5, June 5, 1561

1. Nostradamus’ recent prediction of OU 63 Whorns 14, whatever the hell that means
2. Mary, Queen of Scots: For my money, the finest piece of Scottish Royalty ass since Elizabeth Electress Palatine
3. That imaginary place where flicked boogers go to die
4. The excessive hype surrounding the Fourth Battle of Kawanakajima—hey, the third wasn’t exactly chopped goat turd!
5. Wondering why someone doesn’t hurry up and invent toilet paper