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Nov
20

a few thoughts (part 2 of 2)

(originally posted 6/16/2015)

 

Fact: I am two pounds heavier when I have an erection.

Sitting at the park last night, I was watching an overweight guy jogging when he suddenly let loose with the loudest and most glorious fart I’d ever heard. Then, to my left, I saw a man dragging his golf clubs across a patch of pavement and realized that was where the sound came from. I was so disappointed. True story.

I’m not saying that every woman would go lesbian if they knew what men were really thinking. I’m just saying that they might give the brochure a longer look.

The other day I was walking when I heard a familiar voice, that I couldn’t quite place, say “Hey, I spy a Lance Manion,” to which I replied “Shhhh, if you’re quiet you can watch him in his natural environment.” I then pecked at the ground and began to gather twigs. An hour later I had finished a serviceable nest. Turning to finally see the owner of the familiar yet unknown voice I found that he was no longer there. How rude.

Pausing a TV show because someone in the room is talking is like asking them to be quiet. Pausing and then staring at the ceiling is like saying “shut the fuck up.”

Not saying “Yay!” out loud when something good happens is missing an opportunity. Even the smallest things. Just because other people are too inhibited to verbalize it doesn’t mean you have to be. Throw your hands in the air if you want. If you want to be happy, be happy.

An interesting dilemma is walking by a retarded man fishing in a pond that you know unequivocally has no fish.

I think if you made traffic lights take even 30 seconds longer to change, that most major cities would burn. That’s how fragile I think our civilization is.

I was asked to write a children’s story so I did. It was titled “Gary The Dragon With Erectile Dysfunction.”

Gentlemen, when at the bar and witnessing a girl about to sit down be careful of how you say “May I push in your stool?” If you don’t lift your eyebrow just so she might miss your meaning.

If you’re going to stage a protest, make sure your message is clear. For example, last summer all of the squirrels in our local woods disappeared. Just packed up and left. Not one squirrel was seen all summer. This spring they’re back. Not sure what their point was. Fucking squirrels don’t know dick about protesting.

In fairness to the Pope’s decision to canonize John Paul II, Catholicism did need a Patron Saint of Covering Up Rampant Pedophilia In The Church.

I sat at the bar listening to her and putting her words in my pan and swirling them around like some horny 49er in the hopes of spotting gold.

I realize saying that I don’t enjoy burlesque as much as I do strippers might be as fine a line as saying I like hookers more than escorts but there it is.

So let me get this straight… Donald Sterling was caught saying anti-black comments to his half-black girlfriend and Jay Z was wearing an anti-white medallion while sitting next to his bleached-her-skin-to-look-more-white wife. How can average folks deal with their own racial identity issues when even the racists don’t know what they want?

As time passes too many of us are like trees on the outside but bars of soap on the inside.

I’m alright with the “For he’s a jolly good fellow” part, as redundant as it may be; it’s the last bit that has me a bit skeptical. Nobody?

I’m sure that this makes me a horrible person but I just love to look at the promo pictures of shitty TV series that get cancelled after one season. Everyone in the picture smiling like an asshole, convinced that that they are part of the next big show.

If you want to ruin a wedding toast, include some real advice to the groom: “And finally, and most importantly, always clear your browser history. Never forget. Ever. Not once.” Half the women in attendance will glare at their husband.

I remember sitting at the edge of the bed with a good friend. I said “Will this make things weird?” She said “I certainly hope so.” It forever changed the word. From that moment on I equated weird with good.

It was just one of those games… three pucks in a row sailed into the crowd and killed somebody. You know how Pee Wee hockey gets…

If bombs sounded like mosquitoes then more people would be swatting at their necks before they died.

The desire to take a good look in the mirror is usually replaced with a realization that I strongly dislike mirrors.

Assuming for a minute that birds could use briefcases, would they? I like the idea of the skies filled with birds carrying little briefcases. One bird turning to the other in the nest, grabbing their briefcase and saying “Gotta fly,” before launching themselves off to work. Occasionally you’d get bonked on the head by a dropped bird briefcase but then you’d not only get the enjoyment of rummaging through it quickly before they swooped down to collect it but the amusement of them giving you the “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” face.

After reading that 90% of the medical advice on Wikipedia is incorrect I think it’s time to remove the bacon wrap from my testicles and go see a professional.

Last night there was a huge thunderstorm and a tree fell into my neighbor’s hot tub, flattening it. In surveying the damage this morning they looked at me straight-faced and said “Well, at least no one was hurt.” “Yeah, cause going out in the hot tub during a freak electrical storm is so commonplace.” I replied. They stared back. To clarify I said “Yep, you really dodged a bullet.” They continued to stare as I went back inside.

Of course the thumb is a finger. Otherwise the middle finger wouldn’t be the middle finger. Duh!

I picture a dark raincloud coming over the mountain and looking at the parched plains lustily and saying “Where do you want it?”

The defense attorney finished his arguments by saying “Don’t judge lest you yourself be judged.” The judge then said “Fine, but just so you know… I was going to rule in your client’s favor.”

I think it would be fascinating to watch a very muscular man take a dump in a field.

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe. Except she was a spider and one day the owner of the shoe returned and crushed her to death putting it on.

The time I’m most bewildered by humanity? When I hear someone calling another human being “His Majesty” or “His Holiness.” It’s just embarrassing. “Hey buddy” would work just as well.

What kind of demented mind writes circus music?

I want to write a book about finding love after 50 entitled “Finding The Perfect Mate Amongst All The People That Nobody Else Wanted.”

While I never give much thought to the coordination required to dry myself off when it comes time for each arm to dry the other I will invariably imagine one thanking the other followed by the second saying “Right back at you señor,” when it is their turn to wield the towel. I’m not sure why but whenever my limbs communicate with each other they do it in a heavy Spanish accent.

Men who have lived alone for a long time will usually start unzipping in the hall and have their dick out before they even reach the toilet.

Given that Tony the Tiger is the pitchman for Frosted Flakes, you’d think that there would be chunks of antelope in it.

When I imagine a product being shipped over to America on an enormous ocean-going freighter and then unloaded and placed on a giant, yet slightly-smaller train and then placed in a huge, yet slightly-smaller 18-wheeler and then again in a big, yet slightly-smaller van I like to finish the thought by picturing it being delivered to my door by a midget riding a unicycle.

Went to a Phillies game yesterday in an effort to blend in. As my fellow males debated the finer points of bunting and the designated hitter I finally offered up “And don’t try and tell me that home plate doesn’t give the other bases attitude.” Cover blown.

If I ever get a talk show I will have my guests sit on a leather couch on a slightly elevated platform and I, to show my humility, will sit in a pit of my own filth.

The past is the past. Who you were doesn’t matter. All that matters is who you are now. Who you are at this very moment. At this very moment I’m a drunk asshole.

All I know is that if I were a pro golfer, I’d get the oldest and frailest caddy I could find. That way nobody would worry about my score, they’d all be watching to see if he made it from hole to hole. Especially since I’d carry 40 clubs in my bag.

Whenever I see someone who is pigeon-toed it reminds me of when I was twelve. When I was twelve I thought I was a pigeon.

Given that the average gorilla weighs 400 lbs the 800 lb gorilla in the room would be who let the gorilla get so obese.

My friends tried to warn me that buying her a drink was wasted money. Her on/off switch was an off/really off switch.

If you smile broadly enough, long enough, people will conclude that you’re an asshole.

Is there anything I hate worse than listening to someone tell me how the child of a famous actor/actress chose to use a different last name in order to make it “on their own?” As if they weren’t handed roles because they were the child of a famous actor/actress. As if they earned them and changing their last name meant anything. They’ve earned nothing. It was given to them. Is there anything I hate worse than listening to someone tell me how the child of a famous actor/actress chose to use a different last name in order to make it “on their own?” No.

To the rest of the soccer-crazy world … just remember that we’re using our, at best, fifth-best athletes. Only after our football, baseball, basketball and hockey teams are filled do we ever start looking for soccer players. If LeBron James played soccer all his life, he’d average three goals a game. Just saying.

I think the worst part of being a fish would be constantly swimming through other fish’s pee. You’d never get the taste out of your mouth.

Don’t try and tell me that a unique idea isn’t powerful. It’s a unique idea, not an unique idea. It breaks the rules of English for starters.

Another day wasted trying to teach the dog to yawn on command. It’s just not boring enough for her.

Some days are just frustrating. I’m shooting this porn where all the girls are flowers and all the men are bees and we spend the whole movie pollinating and the prop department just doesn’t understand why I need bigger wings.

How do men with beards do it in the summer? When things heat up their faces must be itchy as hell … said my ZZ Top-esque ballsack.

I think if I had only a week to live and wanted to leave the world a better place I would buy a rifle and kill all the lawyers who advertise on the Maury Povich Show. I would probably end up getting a national holiday.

What is it that makes a dog suddenly start licking its bunghole? Is it the sweet sound that calls the young sailors?

The home furniture place near me closed yesterday. I didn’t realize how serious they were about their liquidation sale until I heard that at the end of the day they killed all the employees.

I hate when speakers or comedians have a guitar up on stage with them, as if to say “Look at me. Look at how talented I am.” If I was good at golf should I interrupt my talk to drive balls into the crowd?

One-night stands are fun for the same reason you drive less carefully in a rented car.

It’s one thing to catch someone on the toilet. It’s another to catch them wiping.

I can’t help think that men would handle menstruation more efficiently. None of this three to four days of acting crabby. Perhaps a pop-out uterus that can be hosed off. Tell-tale cramp. Get the scraper. Done!

There’s just something hot about watching a 21 year old girl ride a big wheel.

I once wrote about listening to a neighbor’s kid practice the banjo on his driveway every summer. It’s true, most days it’s my favorite part of the day … walking past the house and listening. Typically I take a walk each day not so much to clear my head as refill it. Like a hungry person pushing a shopping cart.

A public speaking tip. Start off by explaining to your audience that before you underwent hypnosis you were too terrified to even get up in front of a group of people. Then laugh and ask that for the next hour that nobody clap three times. If somebody does, begin to bark.

Writing Tip #8: If you are describing someone swimming and they are doing well don’t say they are doing swimmingly. Use a different word.

Some people prefer to get into a made bed at night. As long as the wet spots from the previous evening have dried I’m good.

The question isn’t so much “Do fish sleep?” as it is “Who gives a shit?”

I was watching a movie where they kept focusing on a girl’s ass and all I could think was “That’s where the poop comes out.”

I wonder how many women are afraid of getting caught poisoning their husbands so instead have put the 10 year ‘saturated fats’ plan into effect. “Bratwurst again? Thanks Honey!” “No problem Dear.” (small smile creeps across her face)

This morning I did an inadvertent magic trick. I took a crap and then wiped. As I reached back to flush I looked down and saw the turd sitting on top of the toilet paper. Tada!

I don’t know how people who live in huts do it. All the biting insects would drive me crazy. If I were a caveman I know the second thing that would have been invented. “Well, that’s fire out of the way. Now I can get working on mosquito netting.”

I just watched something so bad that I couldn’t turn away. Like a traffic accident … involving clowns.

Apparently there is just something about me that doesn’t allow me to eyeball somebody. All I can do is look at them.

Things that never need to be said at a Manhattan Bagel at 8 a.m. “Behold my penis and despair!”

I can’t imagine anything more horrible than to be sitting in bed watching TV and having the batteries of the remote die on you. You sit waving it like some demented conductor as it’s perched there in your hand seemingly mocking you. “Where is your god now?” You feel like the main character from A Clockwork Orange, strapped down with your eyeballs held open having to watch a program that you don’t want to watch because the only other alternative is to get out of bed and find new batteries. Subjected to a bit of the old ultastupid involving three cows looking for a wedding dress as their inbred family squabbles amongst themselves. You take off the back of the remote and wiggle the batteries, desperate for them to find enough juice to turn the TV off and end your torment. But that doesn’t work. It’s like a horror nightmare.

It’s gotten to where my morning fart is equal parts the crowing of a rooster, a bugle blowing reveille and a starter’s pistol.

If you tell the truth for a living you are a comedian. If you lie you are a politician. Sad.

It is now my fondest wish that karaoke be outlawed across the country. I would walk into bars and taverns across the land and apply the axe to each machine with the same zeal that the old abolitionists would have when destroying a barrel of beer.

I think I had the same reaction upon hearing the news of Robin William’s suicide as everyone else; “Why? Why?! Why couldn’t it have been Howie Mandel?”

While flipping through channels I came upon Jimmy Fallon interviewing Carson Daly. Thankfully it was muted but watching them exchange grins and grimaces it became obvious I had stumbled on the two least interesting people to have ever walked the Earth having the least interesting conversation to ever take place. These are the people that entertain us?

For reasons I can’t begin to understand whenever I see someone driving with their hand out the window and I watch it move up and down riding the breeze I feel a sense of hope.

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