Let's Beat Chuckles To Death!

The "X" painted a very nice self portrait. I like it. Nice painting. That's all....just liked the painting

The Temptation Of Randolph's Private Parts

I have a dream. A vision if you will....to remake "The Muppet Movie". This time I would do it the correct way...with live actors instead of muppets. I would assemble my dream cast for the ultimate musical road movie. The songs would mostly be the same...as would the some of the plot. Only the characters would be drastically different...Kermit the frog and Fozzie Bear would be replaced by Steven Seagal and Jerry Lewis. Throughout their zany musical adventure they would meet the likes of Mal Arnold (Fuad Ramses, the murderous Egyptian Caterer from the gore masterpiece, "Blood Feast") and Ray Sager (Montag The Magican from the landmark splatterfest "The Wizard of Gore"), both men would reprise their infamous roles, slaughtering countless victims throughout the film. Also on board would be all surviving cast members of "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" (1974) and director John Waters as a porn film producer. Cameos would include, P.J. Soles, Brad Dourif and Mink Stole. The film would be narrated by Jamie Lee Curtis in her monotone "Escape from New York" narrator voice. Dr. Teeth an the Electric Mayhem would be replaced by The Butthole Surfers and Ray Harryhausen would provide a brief Dynamation sequence in which the cast accidentally takes LSD and hallucinates that they are being attacked by skeletons. The "Godfather of Gore" Herschell Gordon Lewis would appear in a dream sequence as Count Dracula, and Jennifer Love Hewitt would appear for an extended nude scene. Tura Satana would also appear as an evil witch, out to destroy the muppets/weird ensemble cast. I'm also trying to work in a Pipi Longstockings subplot. I think this picture could be dynamite! ....here's the pathetic part...I'm not joking...that really would be my dream movie.

Beware The Underwear Cobra!

Dear diary, It turns out that my Fun's-A-Poppin' Flea Circus kits WERE the source of that bubonic plague outbreak that nearly killed all of those children in the Midwest. This is worse than the time my line of "Halloween Zombie" grease paint turned out to contain traces of mercury. We simply can't trust Mexican child laborers to self-monitor these important quality control issues.

Also, the rubber skin on the Mr. Musclepull dolls has begun to tear and leaks out the syrup contained inside when excessively stretched. This is due to the poor quality of the rubber used in manufacturing. Should recall the dolls and repackage with the new brand name "The Sticky Larry Doll".

Received several irate phone calls today from something called the "Asian American Justice Center" claiming that our "Hummble Chinaman from Japan" action figure was racist and derogatory. I explained that that particular action figure was, in fact, manufactured by our "Chinese Labor Team" over seas and that if it was "racist" as they claimed, I believe the workers in "the land of the rising sun" would have told me so. They claimed that the land of the rising sun was Japan and not China and that I was a complete idiot. Looks like we'll have to change the name of the action figure to "Secret Asian Man!" to keep eveyone happy.

All for now

Shecky's Questionable Choice Of Under Garments

My epic, three hour-plus puppet show depicting the Nazi atrocities of the Holocaust went down like a led balloon at the Dragon's Breath Children's Theatre last night. It seems that children are incapable of comprehending the concept of genocide in its most horrific form without me having to include some goddamn singing unicorn or dancing bear. Nearly the entire audience, children and parents alike had either left or fallen asleep by the time I got to the act depicting the Nuremberg trials. Pathetic! This puts the kibosh on my proposed "Ted Bundy : Mask of Sanity" and "The Jonestown Massacre : A Look Back in Horror" puppet shows. I should have never stopped pimping. At least my bitches showed "Sugar Bear" the proper respect. As I look back, I pine for the days when Sugar Bear had to bitch slap a ho. Sugar Bear knew how to keep his bitches in line, that's for goddamn sure.

Dan West: Re-Animator

In the dead of night, Wilkins Hall at the Miskatonic University is a quiet and foreboding place. A sense of dread seems to permeate this particular building, and it feels especially menacing in the late night hours in which Dr. Lovejoy and I choose to conduct our decidedly unorthodox research. Our secrecy is essential, chiefly due to the small mindedness of certain members of the university's faculty, specifically, Dr. Goodbody, the head of the anatomy department, who's antiquated theories on brain death do not jibe with my own. Goodbody has taken an intense dislike to me ever since finding a dead rat in his Dukes of Hazzard lunch box that he insists I put there. He also believes me to be the vandal who wrote "Hi, my name is Dicknose McFaggot" on his staff photograph hanging in the medical library. The man would like nothing more than to see me thrown out of Miskatonic University and would pounce upon any opportunity to bring the ethical gray areas of my research into question with the rest of the faculty.

Goodbody also suspects that it is Dr. Lovejoy and myself that are responsible for the cadavers that have gone missing from the morgue, and for once the old dinosaur's theories hold water. Lovejoy and I have, in fact, commandeered cadavers from the university morgue for our experiments concerning the re-animation of the brain after death. The results of our experiments have varied from "not so good" to "Holy shit! That was close! Help me find my index finger."

The administered dosage of my re-animating agent seems to effect our test subjects with radically different degrees of intensity, but in purely scientific terms their typical reaction thus far had been to go completely ape shit. Their extremely psychotic reactions to my serum have led me to one of two conclusions; either the dosage administered so far has been too great, or re-animating the dead is completely insane.

Last night we had great success in re-animating a cadaver and having it stumble around the lab as we played the Michael Jackson song "Thriller" on Lovejoy's CD player. Unfortunately we also had great success in accidentally having our re-animated test subject murder the night janitor, Jenkins. It's been hit or miss here at Wilkins Hall, but tonight we've acquired a wonderful test subject. The cadaver is six feet, ten inches tall and of muscular build. The chart lists him as a former patient at a psychiatric hospital for the criminally insane.

Re-animating is fucking awesome!

Judge Not The Dandruff Of Herman Duncan

Instructions for use :

1.) Inflate celebrity of choice and slather with large dollop of Vaseline.

2.) Photograph phallic bachelorette party cake and send photo to neighbor of choice. Make sure to include threatening note with a second neighbor's name on envelope.

3.) Remove leeches from stay fresh pack and apply to area of rash on testicles.

4.) Mold raw hamburger into face of nemesis and add real human teeth and hair.

5.) Attempt to remove "White Power Sex Bitch" tattoo with Ajax cleanser and steel wool.

6.) Send self-penned, pornographic X Files fan fiction to Gillian Anderson with a request that she become your girlfriend. Make sure to include photo of yourself stark naked and furiously masturbating next to a full size cardboard stand up of Gillian. This will make her fall in love with you.

7.) Make lunch guest a revolting cup of tea using the same water you boiled hot dogs in.

8.) Admit to being sexually attracted to the rubber Sarah Palin mask that you wear when performing with your rock band, Sambo Taco Bender and The Chinks. Especially when singing your greatest hit "Gay Fer Don Knotts".

9.) Secretly video tape Grandpa admitting wartime atrocities.

10.) Add Sloppy Joe mix and enjoy.

Strip Nude For The Creature In The Basement

It was 11PM, Pacific Standard Time. I had sniffed an entire tube of model airplane glue and I was now banging my head to the shreddin' bagpipe licks of the awesome Duncan McKechnie from his latest CD, "Dickie's Nasty, Pink Panties". As a night shift orderly at the Golden Years Convalescent Home, I figured I was pretty much footloose and fancy free after that crazy guy in the werewolf mask broke in here two nights ago and attacked, killed and partially ate all those elderly people. It had been pretty quiet around the place since that little incident and I was determined to make the best of it. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to babysit these Geritol-popping denture tokers, and my i-pod got rid of any of the residual "white noise" caused by the more troublesome of the resident coffin dodgers. I was enjoying a few gulps from a 2 litre bottle of Captain Morgan spiced rum that I'd bought on my way to work when the glue really started kicking my ass.

"Ahoy, matey!" I heard a distant voice cry out. I gazed around the hallway looking for the source. The voice beckoned yet again. "Ahoy, matey, it's me! Captain Morgan!" I gazed down at the label on the bottle in my right hand and was shocked to see the jolly pirate captain logo waving at me.

"Captain Morgan?" I asked, completely dumbfounded.

"Argh! That's me, me matey!" he answered with a wink.

"But how can you talk?" I asked the pirate captain. "You're just a picture on a rum bottle" I said, stating the obvious.

"Because you're high as a fucking kite on model airplane glue, me matey!" he informed me, also stating the obvious.

"And how!" I said.

"What does Captain Morgan say to his partner when he's having sex?" the captain asked.

"I have no idea" I answered.

"Looks like you've got a little captain in ya!" He roared, then laughed hysterically at his own joke. I stared at the pirate, slightly puzzled. "Don't ya get it, matey?" he asked.

"Not really" I answered.

"It's the slogan on the print ads, dipshit!" he said, slightly disappointed.

"Oh" I said.

"The little captain is my dick!" he explained.

"Yeah I get it now" I said. "Pretty funny, Captain Morgan".

"Yeah, well you'd never know it by your response, you fucking loser! Every time I tell that joke it fucking kills! You just sit there staring like a goddamn cadaver! Cut down on the fucking model airplane glue and you might save the few remaining brain cells you have left bouncing around in that skull of yours" he scolded.

"Yeah" I said.

The End.

Laffo The Clown Gives Debbie A Dose Of The Clap

The ransom note, if it could be defined as such, arrived via singing telegram, which was an odd way to inform someone that their husband would soon start losing body parts if the ransom was not paid in full and delivered to the assigned location under the specified circumstances. We grilled the delivery boy/singer who described the man who had paid him for verbalizing the delightful ditty. He said the man who had approached him to deliver the telegram was seven and a half feet tall and had a rather nasty looking scar running straight down the center of his face, as if the brute had been split in half like so much kindling. His also described the man's skull as being somewhat "conical" in shape and said that his teeth seemed to be made of picket fence posts.Though the young man was more than willing to cooperate, and indeed had already supplied us with all the information that he could possibly provide, I insisted that we strong arm the little bastard. I wanted to beat the shit out of someone and I figured the delivery boy was as good as anybody for me to pulverize.

To justify the beating, I demanded answers to nonsensical questions that had nothing to do with the kidnapping of the millionaire Reginald Farnsworth, but still seemed as if they had some validity. "Where's Cavaletti hiding the girls?!" I growled, pounding the delivery boy in the ribs like a punching bag. "What is the true identity of the man who calls himself The Scorpion?" I roared, swinging a round house kick across the young man's face. Ribs cracked and teeth flew. Blood splattered the walls of safe house. Soon Mrs. Farnsworth joined in, beating the young man's face into hamburger and then biting his nose off. She howled like a wolf, spitting blood. In a blood-thirsty frenzy everyone went wild, devouring the young man like a school of piranha fish, leaving nothing but a pile of bloody bones.

By the time Detective Jiggers arrived at the safe house to take a formal statement from the delivery boy, Mrs. Farnsworth, Officers O'Malley and Kelly and myself were all picking our teeth with the young man's bones, our blood lust now satisfied. Jiggers was horrified. "Couldn't you have waited to eat the little bastard until after I got his statement? I'm hungry too you know! You didn't have to be so selfish!". Jiggers then started to sob. "I bet he was really tasty too! You guys are all a bunch of fuckers! Just a bunch of selfish fuckers and you all have sexual intercourse with barnyard animals! I didn't even get to hear him sing the ransom song! Goddamn you all to Hell!"

There was no consoling, Detective Jiggers. Mrs. Farnsworth even removed her bra and wagged her bosoms in his face, but to no avail. Still he continued to cry. "You're an asshole, Dalton!" he spat through his tears.

I seized a few oranges from a bowl on the kitchen table and started to juggle them. Slowly Jiggers seemed to come out of his funk, dazzled by the colorful, airborne fruit. He laughed and clapped his hands together and exclaimed "Pretty fruit! Pretty orange fruit!"

"That's right, Jiggers" I said, "It flies through the air just like magic!"

Jiggers rocked back and forth, clapping his hands and giggling like an infant. "Pretty orange fruit flies like magic!" he chuckled.

The End

Hayseed McBumpkin Goes to Town

It was a muggy June night around eleven P.M. We finally had the Tommygun Gang cornered inside the McDougal's House of Dildos on Bleaker Street. I sent Chief O'Brien and his men around the back while Detective Jiggers and his men stood sentry in the front. Dead or alive the Tommygun Gang was history as of this night. They were a rotten barrel full of bad apples, that bunch. "Dicknose" Jackson, "Chicken Fucker" Charlie McMullen, "Flapjack" Peterson, Grandpa "Dentures" Dugan, Jake "Hamburger Helper" Dixon, "Boobies" McTeague, Jimmy "Jack 'Em Off" Hatfield, Bilbo "The Hobbit" Baggins, Herbert "Zeppo" Marx, Benny "Big Hangin' Wiener" Jurgens, Sonny "Pee Pee Ca Ca Poo Poo" Hampton, Winkie "The Twinkie" Burns and Herman "The Total Fucking Asshole" Leary.

One of the creeps called out from the shadows just beyond the open front door of the House of Dildos.

"We wanna to speak to Dick Dalton!" the voice said. I stepped forward.

"That you, Dicknose?" I asked. "The jig is up, boys! Come out with your hands up, or in about two seconds that warehouse is gonna be riddled with so many bullets that when you all finally DO come out, you'll all thirstily drink glasses of water, only to find that the water your drinking pours out from several holes in your bodies like a sprinkler!" I warned.

"What in the fuck does that mean?" The phantom voice asked.

"It means that we are going to shoot so many goddamn bullets into that dildo warehouse that you will all be hit by several of them and then scientists will be able to store plutonium up your asses" I answered.

"What the hell is he talking about?" another voice asked, truly puzzled.

"It means that the led in the bullets that has riddled your bodies will make you ideal for safe and efficient plutonium storage". I clarified.

"What does plutonium have to do with us?" the first voice questioned.

"Look", I said, "It's very simple. If you don't all come out of that dildo warehouse, these men surrounding the dildo warehouse are going to fire a hail of bullets into the walls of the dildo warehouse. Since you are all inside of aforementioned the dildo warehouse, chances are pretty good that you will all be hit by several bullets, making you all resemble a type of cheese manufactured in a foreign country renowned for this certain type of cheese".

"Are you drunk, Dalton?" the second voice asked.

"Very!" I answered, firing my machine gun into the warehouse

Dickie Pringle : Sex Machine

Yesterday was the auspicious, "official" DVD release date of both "RetarDEAD" and "Monsturd" through Midnight Releasing. Here's what people are saying about these fantastic new DVDs :

"TITLE OF THE WEEK: And I don't mean "most worthwhile DVD of the week," either. I mean this is the best title of the week, regardless of how the film is. "Retardead." Sounds terrible. Looks terrible. And a mere mention of it on Twitter tonight sent dozens of retweets a flyin', so I'm guessing they'll move some units. Hats off."

-Drew McWeeny-HITFIX

"This looks like it may be one of the worst movies ever made, but the title alone might make up for that. Zombie special needs kids=Oscar nod?"

"It's from the same guys that brought us MonsTURD, so you know it's good"

-Josh M-Yelp

"The oh-no! DVD of the week: ‘Retardead’

Note that the DVD cover wants you to know that this is “from the creators of MONSTURD.” And the movie’s tagline? “They’re not so special anymore.” *sigh*. So, I don’t get it. Are the zombies smart, or dumb? Did the serum turned retarded alive people into smart undead people? Or the other way around? And does it matter at all?"

-Flick Filosopher

"Having never seen the first film Monsturd, and having absolutely no desire to, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from the sequel RetarDEAD. Would it have a gripping story, dread-inducing atmosphere and solid acting or would it be a typical shot on video, z-movie horror comedy lacking both comedy and horror?

That was a rhetorical question."

-Wildside Cinema

"Category two I'll let you name yourself. Included here are actual movies called Monsturd and Retardead. I assume one is about a homicidal bowel movement and the other focuses on some mentally challenged zombies. Forgive me if I pass on both."

-Fear.Net

Gonorrhea: The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Last night, as we were exiting an exhaustively-hilarious, 24 hour-long, "Ma and Pa Kettle" film festival at the Castro Theatre in San Francisco, I rather urgently suggested to Raven that I might like her to dress up as Zera from "The Planet of The Apes" the next time we had sex. We had recently been sent a crate of bananas from a mutual friend in Brazil and I was attempting to concoct a scenario in which Raven would perform a seductive simulation of fellatio upon one of the bananas before they rotted and we had to simply toss them out without taking advantage of their obviously phallic shape. With the hysterically-funny, hillbilly-themed antics of Ma and Pa Kettle still dancing about in her perverse brain, Raven suggested that we dress up as Ma and Pa Kettle the next time we did "the nasty". I replied that such an act of perversion would be just too kinky and grotesque, even for the likes of us. Plus, I added, seeing as Ma and Pa Kettle had so many hillbilly children, they must have already had sex with each other several times dressed as Ma and Pa Kettle and therefore the concept was old hat. She thought about this and then agreed to a sexual tryst with her being costumed as Zera from "The Planet of The Apes", but only with the stipulation that I would be dressed as Pa Kettle, providing a unique and perverse twist to our ongoing sexual role-playing. Zera it would be for hot, monkey sex, but Pa Kettle would provide the spanking and demand the simulated banana fellatio. HOT!

Shiny, New Stranglin' Wire!

She weighed 500 pounds and fed on the flesh of elderly people that we captured for her at the Golden Years Convalescent Home. We lured them into traps with pieces of Werther's Butter Toffee. We called her "Mammo", and she was the matriarch of our murderous, cannibal clan. She favored elderly flesh because it was so soft and chewy...like baby flesh but with a hint of "jerky". We'll all miss you Mammo! Yer boys'll do some serious killin' to avenge your untimely demise! Them folks is gonna pay for burnin' you alive in the meat shack! Long live Mammo!