Grunt Like An Ape For The Sex Fairy!

Last Friday my friend Rick informed me that he was setting up what he called "a treat" for us. "I'm looking into getting us tickets to 'Wicked'!" he announced. "Wicked"...a musical about two witches from the land of Oz...as in "The Wizard of Oz". My first thought upon hearing this was "since when did we become a middle-aged gay couple?"...two men in their forties going to see a musical about two witches from Oz? With no wives or children in tow? Sure sounds as gay as the day is long to me. When I asked what his reasoning was, Rick said "I hear it's really good." Then he reminded me, "besides, you said that you were sexually attracted to the wicked witch on the posters." I did indeed state this fact...which seems all the more reason that I would not really be game for seeing a Broadway musical about the land of Oz...Just because I am sexually attracted to a woman with green skin who looks great in pointy black hat and practices witchcraft, doesn't make me a fan of musicals...I was thinking more along the lines of a Captain James T. Kirk/Alien chick attraction...something kinky...with much more green-skinned sex action and much less singing. You know, something like where I order her to "Sit on my broom stick and take a ride, Baby!"...But noooo, now I have to listen to a bunch of gay songs about Oz for two hours...I bet there are goddamn munchkins in this fucking thing too...Uggggg...I hate munchkins...they should have dropped Dorothy's house on a shitload of those little fuckers...like the Lollipop Guild...

Speaking of the Lollipop Guild, am I high or did they not crawl out of a manhole in "The Wizard of Oz"?...A manhole...meaning that they live in the sewer? I would be hesitant to eat that lollipop if I were you, Dorothy.....maybe I'm mixing that scene up with the "crazies" scene from "Escape from New York"...but I seem to remember the little bastards crawling out of a manhole. Wait...what the hell was I talking about? Sex with witches....midgets who live in the sewer...Captain Kirk...green boobs...sit on my broom stick...yeah...that about covers everything

Dr. Bernie Lipton, DDS : Human Sex Toy

After being informed by my landlady that I am not, in fact, "judge, jury and executioner", but simply a deadbeat who's always bursting at the seams with excuses as to why my rent is constantly late, I was forced to keep the shriveled-up, elderly miser at bay with the temporary (hopefully) loan of my much-coveted oil portrait of Merv Griffin (stolen from his Carmel home by a friend who was high on PCP at the time) and a promissory note for a free bikini waxing/taxidermy lesson.

The fascist hag also made me promise to dismantle my living room "sex morgue" and change the roach traps in the basement laundry room with a set of salad servers duct-taped inside my shirt sleeves so that I would "lack the luxury of the dexterity of human fingers for this particularly unpleasant task". She's also stipulated that I must wear a rubber latex novelty store bald cap "to rob me of my youthful arrogance" and that I must repeatedly curse the traps as I fumble with them (with my salad server appendages) with the specific line of dialog : "You doo doo ca ca pee pee, bad squares! Squares promise the doo doo ca ca pee pee roaches ultimate demise! Yet the doo doo ca ca pee pee roaches still appear!"...apparently she wishes to video tape me doing this so that she can upload the questionably-hilarious results to You Tube.

She may be a sadistic money-grubbing vampire, but I have to admit, if the shoe was on the other foot, I would be making the same bizarre demands. I've since made a mental note to add her to my ever-expanding list of potential Dick Tracy comic villains....I think I'll call her, "Cuntface". I think Chester Gould would approve, especially since he is dead now and can't voice his opinions concerning the direction that his ground-breaking comic strip takes in the hands of a mentally-unbalanced cartoonist wearing a rubber latex bald cap and attempting to sketch his new villain with a yellow crayon clutched clumsily between a pair of salad servers. Take that, "Cuntface!"

Gold Denture Grill Bling Teeth

Last night at the Governor's Ball, California State Senator, Elaine Alquist slipped some wicked roofie-type drug into my gin and tonic. Sen. Bob Huff must have sold it to her during the surprisingly violent and sexually graphic pre-dinner puppet show. Dat shit was off da hook! Genie told me this morning that I kept pointing at Sen. Darrell Steinberg and calling him "Dr. Bootysuck O'Felcher, M.D." and that I also attempted to bite Sen. Jenny Oropeza on the ass and kept screaming that I wanted to see "the governor's balls". Apparently I eventually had to be physically restrained once I had become convinced that I was transforming into a blood-thirsty "sex werewolf". Now that was one hell of a Governor's Ball, baby! (I woke up in our bath tub wearing a leather thong and the mask pictured above. I have no idea where all of the blood I tracked through the house came from)

Gordon Newman : Frequent Condom User

These are my new imaginary friends, Ronald "Peppermint Schnapps" Saunders and Mrs. Alma Whipple of 45 Glenview Terrace West. They reside inside of my mind and keep me entertained during those excruciatingly-long and admittedly-boring sermons that I preach at my new church, The Church of The Later Day Christ Chainsaw Massacre, Part VI : The Final Conflict : Episode I. Goddamn I can drone on and on. "God this", "Jesus that" and blah blah blah. It's not like I believe any of that shit...I just do it for the collection money to keep me in hoes and Country Club Malt liquor.

Ronald is quite the prankster and knows a thousand dirty jokes that often make me laugh out loud at inappropriate moments (Why does Fred Astaire's face smell like Ginger?! Indeed!) and Mrs. Alma Whipple of 45 Glenview Terrace West is a former arm wrestling champion and recovering alcoholic who has followed the acting career of Alan Alda with great interest. She is also a member of the Kiss Army.

Jimmy Jacknife's Jailhouse Jesus Juice

Don't make the Tin Man bitch-slap you, Ho!