Today’s Big Steaming Pile of Moi
WHEN THE GREAT Joan Rivers was asked recently how she maintained her incredible figure, she replied: “I have a sensible shake for breakfast, a sensible shake for lunch, and plastic surgery for dinner.” . . . Completely politically incorrect joke, particularly given the current disaster in Japan, courtesy of my Very Own Pop, circa 1965. Who is Chicken Teriyaki? Give up? The last living kamikaze pilot . . . Told you it was politically incorrect, didn’t I? . . . Flashback: the paper had an article t’other day that mentioned President Nixon’s 1969 speech that was directed, as he said, to the “great, silent majority” of Americans. I watched that speech. At the time, I was working for a paper named the Twain Harte Daily News. The boss was foolish enough to let me write my Schnide Remarks and, since I was also allowed to lay out the paper, I put my column on the front page. I asked how President Nixon could know what the silent majority was thinking, since the silent majority was --- silent? Took me 4 months but I managed to put the paper out of business . . . The Vatican has released a statement saying that “as a sovereign state” It will henceforth adopt a policy of being carbon-neutral. First, your popeship: “A Sovereign State”? IT’S A BUILDING! And you have issues with carbon? Last I checked, BABIES are carbon based.
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OUT OF MY MIND: Mr. Glen Beck, a popular T.V. and radio talk show host, fancies himself a God-fearing Christian, and had a few words to say about the recent tragedy in Japan. He cited, among other things the Book of Revelations in the Bible, wondering if the demise of human kind was at hand. In fairness, he said he wasn’t sure. How diplomatic of him! 
Also, in fairness to visitors of this space, I know as much about the bible as The Creator Itself knew about nuclear physics. What little I DO know about the book of revelations makes it seem to me that God dictated it on a particularly bad hair day. As I’ve said before, there’s Nothing I don’t know Everything about. So let me assure you , it is NOT the end of the world. This is fact; not my opinion --- you can take it to the bank even though I said it. And while we’re on it, what’s with all this “God-fearing” psychobabble? I thought God was love. Wotinevvin’s name should anyone fear about THAT? I don’t know about you, but when I hear folks talk that way I get nervous. Or, as Harry Truman once put it, when people that aren’t members of the clergy come into your home and start aggressively Preaching The Word, it’s not a bad idea to make sure the smokehouse is locked up.
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JUST ASKING: How far do you think he would have gotten if his name had been “Biff” Hitler? . . . Why do we call them buildings? They’re already finished. Shouldn’t they be called builts? . . . Why does famed Ess Eff Giants closing pitcher Brian Wilson feel like he has anything to prove? Didn’t he give us more than enough when he wrote all those hit songs with the Beach Boys back in the 60’s? . . .
Howcomizzit nobody has invented “butt-flavored dog food”? I mean, how could it miss? . . . A personal homage to George Carlin: Why do we call it a warehouse? You don’t wear it, and it ain’t a house! . . . How could anybody “lose” Their temper? Who would volunteer for the task of finding it? . . . So Mary sez to Joseph: “We need to talk. Seems I’m pregnant.” An astonished Joseph responds: “How can that be possible? We haven’t had intercourse in at least 10 years.” “That’s the other thing, Mary tells him. You won’t believe who your father in law is.” If Joseph got a little bit weird about sex after he’d heard this bit of news, could you really blame him? . . . Is it just me, or does Pope John Paul II look not at all well lately? And while we’re on it, in fairness, shouldn’t the pope after Jean Paul the 1st have been named Pope George Ringo? C'mon, be fair . . . Did you know if you get some sandpaper and rub it up and down the inside of your nose until its raw and bleeding, and rip up 60 dollars and flush it down the toilet, it’s just like doing cocaine? Wow, a joke about cocaine! How quaint! . . . Guy walks into a bar carrying a duck. Bartender looks up and says: “Hey, you can’t bring that pig in here.” “It’s not a pig, it’s a duck,” responds the patron. Retorts the barkeep: “I was talking to the duck.”
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ICING THE CAKE: From those clever gents, the Monty Pythons, a sweet little poem:
I’ve a gouse and harden in the country,
An ace I pall my clone.
A treat I can replace to
When I beed to knee alone.
Catterfly and butterpillar perch on beafy lough.
And I listen to the dats and cogs
As they mark and they beow.
Yes waiture here is nunderful,
There is no weed for nerds.
While flutting by my windowsiller
Biny little tirds.
