Lesser known Military acronyms

We all know FUBAR and SNAFU, but did you know these?

BITE: Bile is trickling everywhere

SNARF: Shit No, Ain't Rectal F**king

SPLEEN: Spit polish, lick, eat each nut

OBNOXION: Made up fu**ing army word

ESTRADA: Eat shit, then rape all dumb asses

PLEBE: Please let each boy ejaculate

FYCSCLFPOS: F*ck you, c*ck sucking c*nt licking f*ckstick piece of shit.

Peculiar Statements Made in the Bahamas, Summer 2009

Get your ass out of my rum.

Why is Schistosomiasis so fun to say, but such a pain to have?

I got your Grand Bahama, right here!

Eight bucks for a box of cereal? You got a lot of nerve calling this Free Port!

The backhoe contingency necessitates spiritual interpretations any way the wind blows, Herr Scheiss Monster.

Nassau?! Is dat named aftuh da one in New Yawk?

The ocean water is so warm there's no difference when I pee!

If conch fritters rhymed with diarrhea, I could write a poem about this place.

The next one who sings 'Glass bottomed boat, you make the rockin' world go 'round' gets knifed in the gizzard. Don't believe it? Try me!

Best Team Nicknames

Southern Illinois University Salukis (college sports)
Albuquerque Isotopes (minor league baseball)
Springfield Isotopes (Simpsons)
Oslo Ice-O-Dopes (Scandinavian flaggledrop)
Macon Bacon (soft core sports)
Fredericksburg Flatulence (wedding planners associated)
St. John’s Shaft (actors’ guild of Wichita)
Otsego Nads (poetry club)
The (Sherman bowling)
Warrington Pink Funpockets (Eastern field hockey)
The Norton, Marion, & Worth, Esq. That Deep Crack Itch You Sometimes Get From Sitting Around Too Much (legal debating association)
UK Sniveling Piles of Pretentious Poo (Lincoln’s Trombone)
Atlanta Stoops 2 (Owen Field)
Cleveland Tromboners (symphonic Paleolithic circuit)
The Oklahoma If You Don’t Know the Backhoe Contingency You May as Well Reinforce Your Pants With Cellophane (inside jokesters)

Shit from Shinola

Shinola: Lebron

Shit: Lebron's ego

Shinola: Niel Loebig

Shit: Sal Muncy

Shinola: Al Kaline's spleen juice

Shit: Ochocinco's spleen juice

Shinola: Michael Jackson

Shit: Michael Jackson's sleepover with the Culkin brothers

Shinola: The glory of "Lost"

Shit: Getting Lost in my pants

Shinola: Tim Tebow

Shit: Tim Teboner

Shit: Erik Estrada's body of work

Shit, part 2: Erik Estrada

Shinola: The magnificence of Stoops to Atlanta

Shit: Liver and Beets greatest hits

Shinola: Lincoln's Trombone

Shit: Fillmore's Kazoo

Top 5 things heard on the 1 train

5. A huffing glue addict sings an on-key version of 'If I were a rich man' from Fiddler on the roof after a 2 minute speech that had less than 25 words in it.

4. A one-man band of three trombones and a drum asks me to 'make some room for the band'.

3. Two old Jewish women discussing the horrible lunch they just ate, equally mentioning the small size of the portions, blissfully unaware of the opening lines of Annie Hall.

2. A Michael Jackson impersonator, that neither looked, sounded or danced like the King of Pop.

1. A human 'Statue of Liberty' belching (almost sounded like the 'William Tell Overture')

Indepence Day: Ode to feral pigs

I sing of those that rode the ark

and wonder why they traveled?

Did not the pig of ham suffice for man?
I suppose not, these non-cud chewers

Have lived life abundant, though hunted.

HAIL THE BOAR! HAIL THE RAZORBACK!

Ye Arkansas clan unite as one!

Your mighty mascot dwelleth

In swamps and shit and scum untold

Not unlike your fellow kinsmen.

Feral pride is beyond measure to all

Whose bathroom hole is dug without septic

And relief for urges cry "cuzzin"

HAIL THE BOAR! HAIL THE RAZORBACK!

An answer to those who think writing a regular blog requires filler material

No way.

Ranking Nothing in Particular

What a difference cell topography makes!

Top 5, June 1, 2009:

1. The spleen beat of the Kaline tympani
2. Poetic references to Turkish sausage production
3. Pillsbury roadkill at a Ghanaian wake
4. Data that do what they should (yes, I said do!)
5. My name is Mephistopheles but you can call me “Sugar Tits”

Top 5 prior to Jennifer Biel’s last BM:

1. Stegosaurus dreams and the resulting mixed fruit pies
2. Black market vinyl atop motorcade tribute bands
3. Crotch grabbing rubberneckers in the heat of fluoridation
4. Pamplona “Eat me’s” during playoff years
5. Whatever it is that keeps sliding into Rafa Nadal’s butt crack before he serves

Why Guys with Phony Accents Don't Like May

"Eet's Seenester! Eet's Seee-nester!"

A Floridian visits Disney

All right readers; let’s get this over with so we can move on to something more important. Navel lint, for example.

Here’s all you need to know about the 4 parks.

Magic Kingdom: Creepy oversized characters and a roller coaster that would be tolerable were not all the suspense removed by placing it under a darkened dome. Oh—that other ride where they strap you in so an alien can spit on you? Pass.

Hollywood Studios: Another unlit roller coaster (what’s the deal?), only this time riders get to hear Aerosmith filler songs at a volume level of distortion as they twist along undaunting loops. All told, this park is about as Hollywood as a NASCAR double-wide.

Animal Kingdom: Sort of like a zoo, but without any real proximity to animals.

Epcot: The front is dominated by a giant Titleist that houses the slowest park ride in captivity. The back has an international flavor, provided you believe that Denmark borders China.

Tune in next time readers, as I give this column a truly international flavor!

Chicago City Streets/Bad Lyrics

Dearborn/Guilty feet have got no rhythm

Michigan/If they say I never loved you, you know they are a liar

State/I had a dream, I had an awesome dream

Balbo/If a picture paints a thousand words then why can’t I paint you?

Rush/What you say about his company is what you say about society

The Mag Mile/Told my girl I’d have to forget her; rather buy me a new carburetor

Ohio/And then he went and he ate up all of my corn

3 x 3

Places I’ve never been
1. Flat Top, WV
2. The set of “The Kallikaks”
3. Salvador Dali’s arcuate fasciculus

Concepts divorced from baseball
1. Neighborhood association presidents who dress their wieners in Barbie clothes
2. Deviled street urchins
3. An Elizabethan beach squat

Nothing in particular
1. The use of condiment metaphors to accentuate sex tapes
2. “More corn turds, your Excellency?”
3. Valedictorians who display spit stalactites every time they mimic Nat King Cole

A New Yorker Visits New York

I was recently forced to visit the fair (as in average) city of New York. Quite a place, this metropolis—sort of a Toledo in drag. What follows is a run-down of my excursion.

On a recommendation of someone from whom I will never again take advice, I dropped by the Museum of Natural History. The animal exhibit was really something—for anyone who has never seen actual animals! Hey, New Yorkers, it's called a zoo! It has real creatures and they’re alive!

Getting out of the museum as quickly as possible, I walked through a field of barren trees and hookers that the locals call Central Park. From there I took a filthy subway to FAO Schwartz, thinking a toy store might be fun. And it might have been, had any of the overpriced exhibits worked. As it was, I witnessed such an abundance of overacting and saccharine cutesiness that I contracted diabetes.

No worries; I was hungry anyway, so I dined in a real New York deli. And let me tell you, it was some of the finest stale bread and indiscernible meat I ever gagged down. Actually, "dined" may be the wrong word to use for food that becomes projectile diarrhea that quickly.

The locals are quite proud of a large statue in their harbor. What the hell, I thought. Why not?

I'll tell you why not: 1200 people in a boat that could comfortably seat perhaps 35. From there it gets worse, a combination of water, cold, wind, and stairs that lead to basically the same view I had from the ground. Oh yes, then another boat ride.

All in all, a miserable experience, though not an unexpected one. Remember, readers, to find me next week when I visit some backwater known as Disney World.

More Good April Fool’s Pranks

Induce nightmares in your children with midnight swirlies.

Speed down the highway at 125 mph. When a cop pulls you over, eat a spoonful of mustard and vomit all over his uniform.

Put mashed banana in your girlfriend’s sunscreen. When you get to the beach, release the chimps.

When your roommate falls asleep, nail one of those stupid Razorback hats to his head.

Marinate Grandpa’s stool softeners in taco sauce.

Add some ketchup to a dirty Sanchez. Tell her she better get to the proctologist pronto!

Put a non-orange ‘Whorns’ shirt on your child and drive him to Austin. If you live too far away, just put him on the short school bus.

Leave a bottle of Scope and a turd in the coffee lounge. See what sort of interesting interpretations your co-workers come up with.

Join Facebook in your friend’s name. Describe in great detail your career in porn.

St. Patrick’s Day Events in Your Area

Kissimmee, FL: Green Snot Bubble Contest, Amphitheater, 3 pm

Norman, OK: O’Connell’s Breakfast Beer Brawl, 8-9 am

Cleveland, OH: Corned Beef Vomit Exhibit, Lakefront Park, 12-5 pm

New York, NY: Urine Sword Fights, Every Stairwell in Manhattan, all day*

Lincoln, NE: Mr. Potato Head—and Shaft—Contest, Memorial Stadium, 6–10 pm

Flagstaff, AZ: Beach Ball Throw—Speed Gun Reading Closest to Sinead O’Connor’s IQ Wins, Fairgrounds, 11 am

South Bend, IN: The Greatness of Us Lecture Series, part LXVIII, Central Quad, 12-8 pm

Carbondale, IL: Cabbage Turd Open Competition, 10 am (length) and 1 pm (girth)

Mount Pleasant, MI: Klaas Van Vanderhooven’s “Pretend Anyone Gives a Crap about the Irish” Parade, Van Kooi Street, 10 am – 2 pm

Boulder, CO: The Irish Gourmet, Foothills Mall, 5 pm until the potato boils

Crapcakes, ND: Snow Peeing Likenesses of Hollywood Character Actor Brian Dennehy, Main Street, 1-6 pm

Amelia Island: Bono Preach-Alike Gala, noon until a winner is declared.

Pocatello, ID: ISU Student Taste Test: Guinness vs. Pennzoil, 8 am

Burbank, CA: Colin Farrell Quality Film Festival, Palm Theater, 12:30–12:45 pm

Winston-Salem, NC: Class Action Lawsuits Against Conan O’Brien Reunion, Wake Forest Law School, 7 am

Mobile, AL: A Celebration of Celtic Music and Other Annoying Noises, Bear Bryant Park, 10 am–10 pm




*Event not limited to St. Patrick’s Day

The Replacement Coach and the Provisional Administrator

“There any asswipe on your side?”
“Hey pal, why the hell didn’t you check before taking a—wait a sec! PA, is that you?”
[giggle] “Oh you! I was trying to disguise my voice!”
“Never mind that—what the hell are you doing in the men’s room?”
“It’s quicker.”
“But you can’t be in here.”
“It’s quicker.”
“It’s not for you!”
“It’s quicker.”
“Never mind. Just—”
[ppppp ppppp pppplack]
“—What the hell was that?”
“Sorry—poultry.”
“Whoa! Smells like roadkill. What did you eat-a raw chicken?”
[giggle] “Come on. It’s not supposed to be, like, lemony fresh, now is it?”
“Jeez, I got to get out of here. We have a game in 15 minutes.”
“You’re a tennis coach.”
“So?”
“I’m no expert, but I remember them being called matches.”
“Here’s a match: your face and my—“
“Just give me some TP. Please.”
“OK, here.”
[ppppppppppplllaaaacckkkkk]
“On second thought, never mind.”
“Oh come on RC!”
[ppp ppp ppplack ppplack]
“Forget it. I’m not putting my hand any closer to that crapfest than necessary.”
“Well what am I supposed to use?”
“Got any turds?”
“Uh, of course.”
“There yuh go.”
“I’m supposed to wipe my ass with a turd?”
“Why not?”
“Well, just off the top of my head, it would seem that I would be augmenting, as it were, the very substance I’m trying to remove, thereby—”
“Just do it!”
“OK, OK. Keep your pants on.”
“Huh?”
“Sorry, figure of speech.”
“Look, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that if you really believe something is true, then it is. It’s called visuali- victuals-, vaginal-... It doesn’t matter what it’s called. Just grab the turd and start wiping!”
“Fine! I’ll do it! Never let it be said that I won’t do exactly as I’m told!”
[splash]
“Uh…PA…you OK?”
“This is icky. It fell apart in my hands.”
“Hmm, sounds like you need more protein in your diet. Try a Power Bar.”
[plop]
“Oh yuck!”
“Now what?”
“I made a bigger mess than I started with.”
“You didn’t believe, did you?”
“I did believe!”
“But did you really believe? ‘Cause if you had really believed that turd was toilet paper, you’d have wiped your ass clean.”
“I did, I did believe! I swear!”
“Just get dressed and get out of here.”
“But what about the skid marks up and down my vertical smile?”
“What about them?”
“For one thing, they smell.”
“Nobody will notice.”
“They won’t?”
“Not if you want it bad enough!”
“Oh, OK. Thanks!”
[flush]

February Discussion

I'd hate to go the entire month without an entry. So what do you guys want to talk about?

A Science Writer Who Really Wants His Butt Kissed

The argument over intelligent design reminds me of my years as a young scholar, wanting desperately to be taken seriously by the intelligentsia, despite having published only a handful of experiments in minor research journals. So kiss my butt.

“Show us you belong,” said the greats. Now, years later, I realize what they meant and furthermore, why they were absolutely correct in their admonitions. Their point was simply this: Young promise does not an intellectual make. And kiss my butt.

Such is the case with Intelligent Design, please kiss my butt. Taking into account the scientific method—form, test, and modify a hypothesis—one can envision a scenario whereby a scientist concludes that a complex process such as, say, cell division must have been designed (as opposed to random, kiss my butt). Hence, a hypothesis has been formed. Can it be tested and modified? Perhaps, although I cannot think how, I beg of you to kiss my butt. That, however, is beside the point and you really should kiss my butt. You see, it has not yet been tested, as any scientific theory must be. In other words, at this point in time, it is, scientifically speaking, mere speculation (regardless of its ultimate truth), not evidence-based theory. It is no more equal to reputable theories than my once-novice self was to established scholars. Come on, just once kiss my butt.

The Legend of Tim Tebow

It’s a cryin’ shame that the mighty Tim was robbed of the Heisman. Yes, a shame—and here’s a short list why:

• Tebow put the team on his back after their undeserved loss. Percy Harvin and the rest of the untalented stiffs simply tagged along for the ride.

• Tebow will head butt a wrecking ball if that’s what it takes to inspire his lazy-ass teammates.

• Tebow actually coaches his team behind a cardboard cutout of “Urban Meyer”

• Tebow never pees in the shower. And if he did, drains would unclog, I’ll tell you that right now!

• Tebow is Santa Claus.

• Tebow solved Lost and knows all the secrets of the island.

• When Tebow shakes hands, metacarpals turn to dust.

• When Tebow takes a dump, fields of lilies wish they smelled so good.

• When he’s in a bind, Jack Bauer calls Tebow for advice.

• Tebow collects for the Salvation Army while simultaneously playing Flight of the Bumblebees on a bass trombone.

• Obama prayed daily that Tebow wouldn’t run.

• Tebow satisfied your girlfriend like she’s never been satisfied before.

• Tebow pulled Pete Carroll’s pants up and chased him off my porch.

• Tebow prosecuted OJ.

Bad Santa 2008

As has been custom for many a year, a collection of prose, for the season, from a different point of view....

Twas the month before Obama
and all through the land
Democrats and Republicans
Joined in the F**k you America, band.
F**K fannie, f**k freddie, f**k AIG;
F**k Citi f**k Morgan and screw Goldman with glee!
Most of all, f**k Lehman and f**k old bear stearns;
With the largest f**kstick, probe till they yearn!


Silent night
Holy night
All is calm
All is bright
Looks like I'll be jerking off again.


Dear Johnnie:

Thanks for your letter;
(But I liked the way your Mom sucked my d**k much better!)
You asked about elves
and to this I reply,
Yes, I have them
until they all cry.
As the reindeer; of course they can fly!
The secret ingredient? Mrs Claus' pie.
How can I make that trip in a night?
Wild Turkey and Red Bull until I'm higher than a kite.
As for your present, you ask, in your Christmas sock
Of course, you shall have one! (next line too graphic...)


Dear Santa:

I left you a salad instead of Milk and Cookies. I'm worried about your cholesterol. Signed, Martha S.

Dear Martha S:

Thanks for the salad. I left you a big black dildo for you to go f**k yourself. Santa

Dear Santa:

Could you get me outta here before the 25th? Signed, Orenthal S.

Dear Orenthal S:

No problem. You should be meeting Johnnie C. soon - I'll set up an appointment for you.

Dear Santa:

I'm sick of this place. Signed, George B.

Dear George B:

I guess so! You sold it to a f******g ******!
(illini)