Music to my eyes...

Hideous album covers from my private collection

Outside Yiddish Larry's Comfort Zone

Thursday evening was always a big night for Tito's Tittytown Tavern. The weekly Klingon language poetry slams were a big draw and the crowds were large, thirsty and rowdy as all get out. Stringbean had made sure that the kitchen was fully stocked with Sloppy Joe mix , cool whip and young coconut meat, the essential ingredients of Tittytown's Thursday night special: " Dr. Puckerbutt's Anal Ointment" (for your chapped anus). Tito was always a basket case on poetry slam nights and Stringbean had learned to simply keep his mouth shut and the vermin grinder well-oiled. Tonight Tittytown was aflutter with rumors that the morbidly-obese talent scout, Coco Van Winkle was on the prowl for fresh new faces. Coco sat in a dark corner of the tavern clad in his trademark lobster bib and pinwheel hat, bobbing his head to the music of the house band, Jiffy Pop Frankenstein and The Hershey Squirts. A collection of men and women dressed in Klingon uniforms and makeup of varying quality mulled around the tavern awaiting their moment in the limelight and paying very little attention to the music.

The band was on fire tonight, playing a dynamic collection of songs from their new album, "Fumigate the Odor of Your Love". They blasted out power ballad after power ballad: "Convalescent Home Smackdown", "Normal-shaped Baby", "Licorice G-String", "Monkey Shit Blowback" and "Flatulence Filibuster". Stringbean found the music pleasantly complimentary to practicing his pelvic thrusts as he observed the band from the kitchen. He'd been a big fan ever since purchasing their platinum-selling double album, "Werewolf Breath" at the Skanktown flea market. The double album featured some of their greatest hits: "Candy Cane Catheter", "Ovaltine Colon Cleanse", "Pickles Poops in the Pumpkin Patch", and the mega-hit, "Succulent Chocolate Booty". It was really something to have such a powerhouse rock ensemble play the likes of their small fishing village and Stringbean hoped he could meet the band members and possibly get an autograph or two when their set was finished.

Stringbean liked to believe that he too was gifted with a modicum of musical talent and he had even recently performed a mildly-successful fundraising concert to raise money for cement to fill in the Ducky Jurgens Memorial Sinkhole. In the past few months, several children had fallen (or were intentionally shoved) into the sinkhole and vanished while playing near the gaping menace. Stringbean had raised a total of $4.50. The contributor had given him the money with the stipulation that he stop repeatedly playing his song, "The Sexual Underwear Gang" and leave the area. Stringbean had used the money to purchase lamp oil and ping pong balls for a performance art piece he was putting together. It would be an interpretive dance performance based on the film, "Three on a Meat Hook". He was still working out the kinks in the act, but it was taking shape as something truly special. He would perform the piece as his alter ego: "Salsbury Steak Face Lift", and would involve audience members in an interactive scavenger hunt in which they would find certain items inside of his pants. Soon it would be Stringbean's turn to wow the crowd at Tittytown, but for now he would stick to manning the grill. There were burgers to flip and anus ointment to mix.

With Tito distracted and frantically tending bar for a freakish collection of beer-guzzling "trekkers", Stringbean was free to work on fine-tuning a somewhat problematic chapter of his autobiography, "Ladies, Please Attempt to Ignore the Flesh-Colored Boa Constrictor Packed Into My Cling Wrap Thong: The Stringbean McDougal Story". The chapter in question was the book's third, tentatively titled: "Count Drinkula and the Lovesexy Cherry Coke Enema". Stringbean unraveled a length of toilet paper that he'd been using to doodle his chapter notes on. On the wrinkled toilet paper, scrawled in his own blood, were the words: "Restraining order", "Buck Knife", "Loose Canon", "Pumpernickel" and "Denture Creme Diabolique". He read the list aloud and then quickly took a felt tip pen from his pocket and added: "Raw Bacon", "Dumplings", "Easter Basket" and "Gay Agenda". Suddenly his concentration was broken by a voice shouting loudly over the music. "Kral Rak! Mauk Lak! Krell Mauk, Earther!"

Stringbean looked up from his notes, meeting the piggishly beady eyes of a heavily-perspiring, pudgy-faced Klingon standing in the kitchen doorway with his hand out. Stringbean rolled his eyes and then passed the flabby pseudo-space warrior a mountainous plate of chili cheese fries and an extra large bucket of Mountain Dew. "Mauk Slak, Earther! Krell Mauk!" the plus-sized Klingon roared, afterward cramming a fistful of the sloppy fries into his mouth. Stringbean could only shake his head, mystified, as he watched the wannabe alien badass waddle away stuffing his fat face. He recognized the Klingon as Christopher Newcastle, an obnoxious know-it-all windbag he'd had in a high school multimedia class who spent most of his non-Klingon hours speaking loudly to no one in particular about something called "World of Warcraft". The gig as Tito's resident grill jockey wasn't bad but the fucking Klingons were a bunch of buttfucking asswipes. Captain James T. Kirk had probably said the exact same thing at one time or another.

The band finished up their final number to lackluster applause from the portly Kilngons. Stringbean attempted to make up for their rudeness with a few howls of approval and a couple of enthusiastic fist pumps in the air. The band members turned in Stringbean's direction and took a bow. lead singer Jiffy Pop Frankenstein tipped his purple top hat in appreciation. "I guess the ass-reaming little dickwad in the shithole of a kitchen liked us!" he said in a sarcastic drawl and then unzipped his pants and began to urinate on the stage. "Hey, shitface, when you're done choking your chicken in the kitchen you can drag your scrawny ass out here and wipe my piss up off the stage, you faggot!" Stringbean grinned and waved at the lead singer and then quietly took a double barrel shotgun from beneath the kitchen counter. "Come on Cinderella, get yer mop!" the singer said. Stringbean waved again and then shot the lead singer in the groin with the double barrel shot gun. Blood splattered stunned Kilngons and fellow band members as Jiffy Pop was blown backward, shrieking in agony. The crowd panicked and scattered as Stringbean began to randomly fire into the crowd. Tito's head exploded in a crimson shower of brain matter and skull fragments. A man in a gorilla costume ran out of the men's restroom with a plastic bucket and began lobbing handfuls of human feces at the frantic customers. Several men dressed as the Keystone Cops barged through the front door, battering customers with batons and throwing custard pies as a man in a straw boater hat sat down and began to play a cheery hony tonk tune on the tavern's upright piano. The tavern was in complete chaos. The glass of the skylight rained down upon the crowd as the flying horse, Pegasus descended from the sky above. Stringbean mounted the mythical creature and donned Jiffy Pop's discarded rubber Frankenstein's monster mask. "Merry Christmas to all! And to all a good fuck!" he shouted as Pegasus took flight. Stringbean dropped a live grenade through the skylight of the tavern as they soared into the glimmering night sky. The tavern's east wall exploded below and there were terrible screams.

This post has been a test of the emergency alert blog system, in the event of an actual blog posting please wipe the semen from your computer screen and attempt to put your pants on over the top of your head. Who stole Bobo's funny red clown shoes? Can I get an amen? How about some diarrhea medicine?

Author's Note: This nonsensical pile of feces was created with a large list of words and terms that I wrote down while thinking that they might be amusing when combined into a story. I was quite wrong. The list went as follows:

Poontang Beaversnatch

Pelvic thrust

Ginger snaps

Candy Cane

Jiffy Pop Dracula

Lovesexy Cherry Coke

Cling wrap

Mead

Instant mashed potatoes

Loose canon

Choose Life t-shirt

Off-script

"Slank"

Puke Bucket

Cracker Jack

Catheter

Normal-shaped baby

Fishing village

Werewolf breath

Dr. Hopstetter's gene splicing tape

Witchfinder

Soup Kitchen

Stage Coach

Flea Market

Pin wheel hat

Hershey squirts

Twinkie fucker

Easter basket

Johnson's sink hole

Restraining order

Harmonica lessons

Panty line

Raw bacon

Blowback

Monkey bars

Spray foam insulation diaphragm

Surgical tubing

Filibuster

Chapped anus

Mr. Microphone

Cocoa puffs

Direct deposit

Amin: The Rise and Fall

Phantom Tanning Booth

Ovaltine

Colon cleanse

Licorice g-string

Pumpernickel

Calling card

Pablo Picasso's Blue Fartknocker#4

The Succulent Booty

The Colonoscopy Challenge Game from Milton Bradley

Journeyman Proctologist

Fumigate the Odor of Your Love

Convalescent Home Smackdown

Klingon language poetry slam

A Mint Julep for Judas

Sexual orgasm of love

Mervin the Magical Misunderstood Morgue Midget

Claim Jumper

Hashish

Dr. Puckerbutt's anal ointments

Skullduggery

Sloppy Joe sandwich mix

Scavenger hunt

Tito's Tittytown Tavern

Pickles Poops in the Pumpkin Patch

Pimento Loaf

Grizzly

Dugan Portnoy

Coco Van Winkle

Ping Pong

Lobster bib

Scabies

Count Dracula

The Sexual Underwear Gang

Lamp oil

Pubic region

Vermin grinder

Morbidly obese

Talent scout

Three on a Meat Hook

Gay agenda

Jocular

Accordion

Facelift

Salsbury steak

String bean

Young coconut meat

Diabolical denture creme

Wicker athletic supporter

Cool Whip

Bugle

Slim Jim

Dumpling

Octogenarian Sex Addict

Neck brace

Drywall

Fort some reason, while I think the resulting story is godawful, I still think this list is very funny. I didn't even get around to using such comic gems as "Twinkie fucker" and "Poontang Beaversnatch". You win some, you lose some. I thought this would be a pretty funny tale but it's really just too forced, weird and idiotic. But, hey...I love that list. Most of all I love having this list in my coat pocket, scrawled on two crumpled sheets of paper with checkmarks on certain words and circles around others. This sort of thing always makes me feel slightly off balance, like a crazy person who has been taking dictation for an imaginary demon who lives inside of his head.

Sloppy Seconds For Bertold

Jim patted the malodorous perspiration from his testicles with a damp washcloth. The baby powder had been only mildly successful in preventing what Jim had come to refer to as "cheese balls". His groin area had ever-so-recently begun to emit a vexing and undesirable odor. The scent was particularly problematic during "teabagin' time" at the office. Jim seldom participated in "tea time" these days for fear that others in the office might take offense at the sour aroma of his sweat-drenched balls. A generous splash of Old Spice aftershave only seemed to mutate the odor into a pungent and embarrassing entity that haunted the folds of his cotton briefs. On Tuesday an anonymous prankster at the office had slipped a post card under his office door that read: "Hey stinky balls, you tryin' to get arrested for testicular manslaughter? How 'bout givin' those hard boiled eggs of yours a scrub or two before we all have to start huffing Lysol?"

Jim had narrowed down the source of the offending odor to an infection caused by either the mouth area of his homemade sexual assistance puppet or the moldy spandex of his Spiderman costume. He just hoped that the leeches he'd applied to his testicles would be able to remedy the infection with a little time and effort. In the meantime he would wear a Depends mint-scented adult diaper to the office and hope for the best. Perhaps he could switch to the wintergreen ultra-fresh spearmint scent if he needed to up the ante. He was confident that he could beat this thing...not like that guy at Chuck E. Cheese with the club foot. Hey..."beat"..."club"...Jim thought there was a potential joke in there somewhere and jotted a quick note below his list of things that he would like to lick.

Jim took a swallow of the white man's fire water and affixed his bald cap with a dollop of spirit gum. He would have his revenge for that funny little postcard about his balls, even if he had to go undercover in disguise to taste his sweet, blood-drenched revenge. A fake moustache, a phony mole in his cheek, a pair of horn-rimmed glasses...a swastika drawn on his forehead with his own fecal matter. Who was that bald-headed stranger looking back at him in the mirror? Zip Zany The Human Mushroom Cloud Man? Chooglin' Jake? Weanie Touchie Brian Loosecannon? Bucky Sabertooth III? Durville Sweettreat? Sambo Flapjack the fish squeezer? Colgate Jurgens, Sr.? Old Pop Whitman? Crappy Slim? Kink Corncorb? Sampson Dingleberry? Floop? Sock Puppet Cock? Chicky Gurgles?

Who was he today and who had called him Mr. Stinky Balls?

The Weird World of Ed Wood Jr.

Just in time for the holy month of October, my latest oil painting. Ed Wood Jr. and an assortment of his wacky film characters.

Rebel Smell

I think Satan may have broken into our apartment and farted into our refrigerator. A few days ago, my girlfriend, Sarita and I noticed a foul smell coming from the interior of our aforementioned household appliance. This odor has since been getting steadily stronger and now smells like what I would imagine Jeffery Dahmer's apartment might have smelled like when he was finally arrested for a string of horrible serial murders. Our stench is a stench of mysterious origins, wicked and Lovecraftian...as if birthed from an alternate dimension. The smell of nightmares and rot. A thorough cleaning of the interior had absolutely no effect on this odor..it only seems to gain strength through our disgust. We had no rotten food stored away in some dark corner to give this hideous smell some kind of earthly origin, rather it seems to have simply come into being of its own accord. There is something uniquely disconcerting about opening the door of your refrigerator and being met with a stench that might be more closely associated with something you might encounter during a visit to a county morgue. This "thing" is like some kind of olfactory syphilis. Every time we open the fridge these days it's like being forced to inhale smelling salts that have been extracted from the asshole of a rotting cadaver...if I was hard pressed to pin the odor down, I would describe it as a rotten cucumber that had been infused with the DNA of a dead rat and then pickled in a jar of formaldehyde and cocktail onions and served up on a plate of burning plastic and slathered with a hearty dollop of stagnant water drawn from an abandoned septic tank...oh and this would all be experienced in the world that the film Tron took place in...when people die in that world...this is what their bodies begin to smell like when they rot.

Ingo Gets The Squirts

The man introduced himself as "Bob Bunyan". "Like the giant" he added.

"Giant?" Dr. Becker wasn't sure what possible significance the comparison could have.

"You know...Paul Bunyan."

"Oh...that giant" Looking at the man's chart, Dr. Becker saw that Mr. Bunyan had also included this trivial tidbit on his insurance information form.

"The one with the giant blue ox" the man said. "The giant lumberjack".

Dr. Becker sighed. "I get it, Mr. Bunyan. There's no need to belabor the point...wringing it dry like a blood-soaked rag. At this point you are flogging a dead horse, Bunyan. I get it! Next time leave this kind of trivial horseshit off of your insurance forms, or I'll put my foot so far up your ass you'll belch Birkenstocks"

Mr. Bunyan looked a bit shell-shocked by the scolding and Dr. Becker relished the man's uneasiness. Becker did not suffer fools and the tongue lashing had been quite satisfying.

"Having the same last name as a legendary giant lumberjack does not make you anything special, Mr. Bunyan. If anything, pointing that out makes you seem meek and insignificant...like some kind of wriggling, slimy worm...or better yet, a maggot....squirming in a sea of feces with others of your ilk."

Mr. Bunyan bowed his head, looking ashamed and Dr. Becker withheld a grin. He loved nothing more than berating his patients...except perhaps for stabbing them...but he didn't do that sort of thing anymore. He'd had the "Bad Becker" under control for quite some time now. His mask and knives were safely tucked away in a safety deposit box just in case the police should come to call on him.

"Here, Mr. Bunyan, I'll just fix this form of yours". Becker removed a ballpoint pen from the breast pocket of his lab coat and scribbled out Bunyan's "like the giant" notation and replaced it with the words "like the asshole". "There we are...much, much, much better!" he said, passing the clipboard to Mr. Bunyan. Bunyan gazed at the notation and began to sob quietly. Delighted by the man's waterworks, Becker couldn't resist ridiculing his patient further.

"I hate you, Bunyan! You're an idiot and I hope you die!" he hissed. Mr. Bunyan gazed up at the Doctor, red-eyed and full of self-loathing. "Why are you doing this to me?" he pleaded. The Doctor threw his head back and laughed. "I'm only funning ya, buddy boy!" he said and patted Mr. Bunyan on the shoulder gently. "It's all good, peckerwood, I'm just making a funny ha ha joke...like the stand up comedians do down at The Funny Farm Comedy Club!"

Bunyan looked confused but somewhat relieved by this information. "A...a joke? Like a comedian?"

"Yes...a funny funny ha ha joke like the comedian! Like the Bob Hope or the George Burns make with funny mouth! Make many joke so as to be laughed at by public!" Becker then began to walk stiffly around the exam room as if he were some kind of robot. "Dr. Pookie make funny joke for patient man in exam room!" Bunyan was further befuddled by his doctor's odd behavior, staring at him with his mouth agape. "Dr. Pookie is made of metal like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz!" Becker said robotically.

"Or like C-3PO?" Bunyan asked

"Ya ya! Little Dutch Boy! Me like C-3PO! Me robot!" Becker suddenly froze in his tracks. "Uh oh!" he mumbled.

Bunyan examined him. "What's wrong, Doctor?"

"Robot doctor accidentally make shit in pants." Becker answered.

Mr. Bunyan looked uncomfortable. "You shit your pants?"

"Robot doctor make doo doo download in drawers. Red alert! Red alert."

Bunyan quickly gathered his clothing from the chair he had draped it over. "Well...I guess you'll want to take care of that then, Doctor...uh...I'll just be going."

"Robot doctor want Mr. Bunyan for friend." Becker said and then broke wind loudly. "Oops! Make more robot poo poo in pants!"

At this, Bunyan bolted for the door of the exam room only to find it locked.

"Stay awhile" Becker whispered. "I was just about to make some of my famous sangria."

A Virtual Charleston Chew

A gift for all of my rabid fans...please take a large bite of this virtual Charleston Chew.

Hollywood Purgatory: Potentially Classic Films That Never Made The Leap From Development Onto The Silver Screen

1.) Indiana Jones and the Boner of Hendrix. Trapped in development hell, this treatment proposed a sequel in which the geriatric archaeologist pursues thieves who have stolen the notorious plaster cast of famed guitarist Jimi Hendrix's erect penis.

2.) Irwin Allen's Raw Sewage. In 1978, "Master of Disaster" Allen proposed this aptly-titled disaster epic in which an all-star cast fight for their lives when the streets of Los Angeles become flooded with human waste. Reportedly, when Allen approached Charlton Heston to play the lead role, the star quipped, "Are you fucking crazy?!" and tried to stab the director in the neck with a screw driver hidden in his sock.

3.) Franco Zefferelli's Joannie Loves Chaci. This proposed big screen version of the short-lived Happy Days spin off sitcom was abandoned when the famed Romeo and Juliette director instead chose to develop early treatments for The Harlem Globetrotters on Gilligan's Island.

4.) Lord of the Bling. This urban-flavored re-imagining of J.R.R. Tolkien's epic fantasy trilogy was shelved when early make-up tests proved to make actor, Samuel L. Jackson, who was to portray the wizard, Gandalf, appear too much like Song of the South narrator, Uncle Remus. The furious actor reportedly stormed out of make-up tests screaming, "Enough is enough! I have had it with these mother fuckin' snakes on this mother fuckin' plane!"

5.) Disney's Sodom and Gomorrah. This horrific tale of God's vengeance was forsaken when Disney studios' conceptual artists failed to come up with a family-friendly way to portray sodomy. The song Lick My Boner, composed for the film's potential soundtrack, was later used in a straight-to-video Little Mermaid sequel.

6.) David Lynch's Picklenose. Early drafts of the screenplay for Lynch's aborted project don't really explain anything at all. The color blue is heavily featured, as is a male character "Who vaguely resembles Fatty Arbuckle". The film was to also feature several close ups of raw meat swarming with flies and a man who has his nose replaced by a large dill pickle.

7.) The Great Muppet Holocaust. Little is know about this aborted project, probably for the best.

8.) Godzilla Versus Vaginasaur. Conceptual sketches for this entry in the successful Japanese giant monster series depict "The King of the Monsters" doing battle with a gargantuan rubber vagina.

Bobo Gets His Street Cred

"Screw you, turd burglar! I'm pourin' it all in!"

It was a typical Jackie response; impulsive, foolhardy, crass. Exactly why Doug had been saddled with Jackie as a lab partner was a mystery, but it seemed to be the result of some deep-rooted animosity harbored by his chemistry teacher, Mr. Albright. Jackie's wild reputation around Filmore High had preceded him by a country mile, yet despite Doug's objections, Albright had chosen to pair them up anyway. The jerk had even laughed at the pairing, muttering something under his breath about "birds of a feather" and "dilly dallying dong fondlers". When Doug again voiced his concerns about having a ticking time bomb like Jackie as a lab partner, Mr. Albright responded by doodling a sketch on the chalk board which depicted Doug with his pants down having sexual intercourse with a chicken. Doug's face had turned beet red, not because of the jeering the offensive caricature evoked from his classmates, but because he secretly found the picture to be strangely erotic.

Now here they were, a mismatched odd couple with a tray full of volatile chemicals and Jackie just itching to wreak havoc. Doug shielded his eyes as Jackie dumped the smoking and bubbling contents of his test tube into the beaker which sat before them atop the bunsen burner. There was a blinding flash of light as the beaker exploded, riddling Doug's face with shards of broken glass and knocking him to the floor. The explosion was deafening, the impact blasting away the classroom wall to the left of the two teenagers. As Doug rose from the floor, pulling bits of glass from his bleeding face, he observed what appeared to be a rip in space and time created just beyond the ragged remains of the classroom wall. From the swirling nebulous mass stepped a bald man, completely nude, his skin a shimmering silver hue. In his right hand the silver-skinned man held a large, black, rubber dildo. The man pointed the dildo at Doug as his eyes became aglow with fiery red light. "Beware the Kremlac! The eater of souls!" he said.

"Who are you?" Doug asked.
"My named is Pookie Anal Prob Vampire Bat Tootsie Cat Call Skippy Vaudeville Circuit...and I am from the future." he replied.

The sliver-skinned man then stepped forward, observing his surroundings. He looked to the floor and cocked his head ever-so-slightly with a look of curiosity. Doug followed the direction of the man's glance and caught sight of the bloody remains of Jackie's now headless and mangled corpse. "That one doesn't have a head" the man observed coldly, not in the least bit perturbed by the blood and gore before him. Shocked by the gruesome sight, Doug lurched forward and regurgitated onto the floor. The silver-skinned man observed this and then, seconds later, copied the reaction, vomiting a puddle of steaming green liquid onto the floor. He then looked to Doug and smiled, as if seeking his approval. "I made floor liquid" he said, still grinning widely. Doug wiped the remaining bile from his face and smiled weakly at the man. "Yes...yes you did" Doug said.

The man from the future then reached behind his back and pulled a gold, disc-shaped object from between his buttocks. He thumped the center of the disc and out sprang the upper part of a silk top hat. He passed the top hat to Doug. "I made you a top hat with my asshole" he said. "For the top of your head". Doug examined the silky gold hat as the man observed him, seemingly waiting for him to don the gift. "For the top of your head". he repeated anxiously. Doug hesitantly sniffed the hat and then placed it on his head. It was a perfect fit. The man from the future again reached behind his back and pulled a CD case from between his buttocks. He then handed the CD case to Doug. Doug read the title aloud. "The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band : Greatest Hits". The silver-skinned man smiled. "For your ears" he said.

Suddenly Mr. Albright arose from the floor in a rage. "What in the name of Sam Hill is going on here?!" He observed the swirling space/time vortex just beyond the wall of his classroom and then turned to face the strange man who'd stepped forth from the inter dimensional whirlwind. "You silver-skinned son of a bitch!" Albright shrieked, pulling a straight razor from his hip pocket. "I'm gonna slice you up like a Thanksgiving turkey!" he growled, charging at the stranger and waving his straight razor wildly. The silver-skinned visitor aimed his wobbling black dildo at the chemistry teacher and from the tip of the rubber penis shot forth a bright beam of blue lighting. The lightning struck Albright with tremendous force, and in a bizarre metamorphosis, transformed the chemistry teacher into a bronze statue of a minotaur. "For your bedroom" the silver-skinned sorcerer said with a grin.

The stranger stepped toward the vortex. "Beware the Kremlac. The eater of souls" he repeated
"I'm going back to the future to have some sex with my sexy, silver-skinned lady" he said and winked at Doug. "Then I'm going to shave her vagina" he added, saluting Doug and then stepping back into the time/space vortex.

In a flash of light the silver-skinned visitor vanished just as instantly as he'd appeared.

Hello Dear Readers

Hey there! Thanks for stopping by. It's been a while hasn't it? You've probably been wondering what I've been up to lately. Well here's a quick list to get you up to speed on the exciting things that I've been doing lately:

1.) Takin' it to the streets

2.) Stickin' it to the man

3.) Livin' in a rock and roll fantasy

4.) Chooglin' on down to New Orleans

5.) Workin' on the railroad

6.) Tellin' it like it is

7.) Lookin' for love in all the wrong places. Lookin' for love in too many faces

Oprah's 2011 Book Club Reading List

1.) "Grandpa Shlomo's Belated Bris" By Rabbi Moses Horowitz

2.) "Dildo Whittlin' With Daisy Mae Dixon" By Daisy Mae Dixon

3.) "Pappy's Poontang Pantry" By Dr. Dianne Roth, PHD

4.) "To Slander The Name Of Dickhead McShitpants" By Father Ben Hardy

5.) "Homo Dragnet" By Stringbean McCoy, D.D.S

6.) "Hambone Brings The Thunder" By Dugan Turnblatt

7.) "Dunston's Bowel Movement Paper Weight" By Judith Kingsley

8.) "Fuckface Shoves A Fish Stick Up His Ass" By Sister Margaret O'Day

9.) "Peepers The Gynecological Witch Doctor" By Elizabeth Dahl

10.) "Well Shit My Slacks! : The Doodles Popper Story" By Jackie Solomon

11.) "Touch My Wiener Of Love: A Story Of Recovery" By Dr. Kimberly Sampson

12.) "Bottoms Up! : A Guide To Enjoying Your Unsolicited Amateur Colonoscopy For The Chronic Alcoholic" By Bert Fassbinder

13.) "The Erotic Flatulence Handbook" By Dame Victoria Whitman

14.) "Holistic Sodomy" By Jane Franks And David Simon

15.) "When Clown Dicks Touch : A Memoir" By Former U.S. President George Bush, Sr.

16.) "Belching In The Face Of Christ" By Father Duncan Mahoney

17.) "Understanding Masturbation In The Workplace" By Nancy Friedman-Barnes

18.) "Standoff At Diarrhea Falls : A Smokey Kaufman Mystery" By Tex Hansen

19.) " Burning Buttholes And Sizzling Sphincters : Avoiding The Painful Pitfalls Of Anal Waxing And Bleaching" By Christopher Harrison

20.) "Tang! : The Exciting Saga Of The First Drink Mix In Space" By Leonard Fitts Jr.

21.) "Seize The Day And Cornhole It! : The Power Of Positive Thought" By Dr. Joyce Walters

22.) "Everyone's Guide To Carpet Munching" By Capt. Roland Hirschfeld

Mervin Dunlop: Cougar Town Boy Toy

With rumors flying fast and furious that Earth is about to collide with the planet Saturn any day now, I thought it would be wise to compile a list of items that I'll be packing up for my trip on the escape space shuttle to the Earth II biodome habitat on planet Mars.

1.) Lil' Smokey cigarette-flavored nicotine bubble gum.

2.) Bootius Maximus cushioned buttock enhancer pads (Soul Train style)

3.) Werther's humane euthanasia butter candies for the elderly

4.) Johnson's MILF Wax

5.) "Fuckin' Shit Up: An Autobiogarphy" by Angela Lansbury

6.) Hall's chewable tapeworm-loosening laxatives

7.) Coleman portable funeral home kit

8.) Tom's of Maine All-Natural Sexual Ecstasy Lotion

9.) Capin' Salty's sea salt-flavored condoms

10.) 1001 Racist Zingers joke book

11.) Flintstones Boner Time chewable Viagra for kids

12.) Raid Aerosol Spray Hobo Repellent

13.) Lego Skanytown Playset with spring-activated bitchslap action

14.) Fassbinder's Mint Julep Colon Cleanse

The Hardy Boys And The Case Of The Stinky Pinkie

As I mourn over the double-whammy loss of both Tura Satana and Dave Friedman, I felt the need to lift my spirits by bringing back one of my least favorite guests in the whole world for a little chin wag. Today, making his 3rd and hopefully final appearance on the Dan West's Homemade Embalming Fluid blog, we welcome the Weird Guy in a Mr. Spock Mask.

Dan: Well ,Weird Guy in a Mr. Spock Mask, it's interesting to have you back and the over-powering smell of cheap booze leads me to believe that you didn't fail to disappoint the fans by showing up sober.

Weird Guy: No, I'm hammered, Don. I've had five screwdrivers so far this morning.

Dan: Well then I suppose I can certainly interest you in a mimosa then, Weird Guy.

Weird Guy: Absolutely.

Dan: I knew you were coming, so I baked a cake...here you are.

Weird Guy: (Reads cake) "Go Fuck Yourself"...oh, that's cute, Don. I knew I was coming so I got baked (Laughs)

Dan: I'd like to begin by asking, if you could change your name to anything in the world, what would your new name be?

Weird Guy: Jocko "Chung King Dynasty" Pue-Pue...no wait (thinks for a moment and then speaks in drugged-up Elvis Presley voice) Johnny Poontag!

Dan: If you had a time machine, what would be your first adventure?

Weird Guy: I would travel back in time and give Michael Jackson that chocolate milk enema.

Dan: Any traumatizing and tantalizing childhood stories that you would care to share?

Weird Guy: My mother used to drink from a rubber baby doll that peed gin.

Dan: Hardly surprising...Would you care to make up any fictitious accusations against any family members that we can attribute to "recovered memory"?

Weird Guy: My Uncle Jackie once performed fellatio on a guy dressed like The Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz during a Satanic black mass.

Dan: If you could lick anything on Earth with your tongue, what would it be?

Weird Guy: Merv Griffin's coffin lid.

Dan: If you could have any particular body scent, what would that scent be?

Weird Guy: I would like to smell like the crotch of the original Creature from the Black Lagoon costume.

Dan: If you were captured in a net by a race of highly-evolved apes that possessed intelligence to rival that of modern man, what would you say to your hairy captors?

Weird Guy: I would clear my throat and then say in a loud and gravelly voice, "The aroma of your hands leads me to the conclusion that at least one of you enjoys fisting your sexual partner."

Dan: If you could write a script for an episode of the popular 1980s sitcom, Punky Brewster, what would your episode be about?

Weird Guy: I've thought about this for many years, and I have to say that in my episode Punky would befriend a flatulent hobo who is being sought by authorities for performing a botched sex change operation. I would title the episode: "Boner Patrol".

Dan: What book would you recommend for Oprah's 2011 Book Club Reading List?

Weird Guy: "Make Mine Pumpernickel: A Collection of Erotic Star Wars Fan Fiction", which is a volume of short stories written by Star Wars enthusiasts from Iceland. In one of the stories Jabba the Hutt performs cunnilingus on Princess Leia with that crazy tongue of his. It really gave me an erection, which eventually resulted in my being physically escorted out of Disneyland.

Dan: Are you lying?

Weird Guy: Yes...there is no such collection of Star Wars fan fiction, but the part about the erection at Disneyland is true.

Dan: What is you favorite line from the song, "We Wish You a Merry Christmas"?

Weird Guy: Tough call, but I would have to say the line about the figgy pudding. I just love a figgy pudding.

Dan: Do you have any personal heroes?
Weird Guy: Oh sure, Martin Luther King, Harvey Milk, Woody Woodpecker, Witchiepoo and the original bass player for Deep Purple
Dan: Any big turn offs?
Weird Guy: A sexual attraction to foot-long hot dogs and a desire to be sodomized by a man wearing a Garry Shandling mask.
Dan: Okay, well I guess that about says it all, Weird Guy in a Mr. Spock Mask. I'd like to thank you for putting in your 3rd appearnce on the Dan West Hates you blog and I hope to Christ that you won't be back in the near future.
Weird Guy: I thank you, Dirk...always a pleasure.

Don't Tug The Werewolf's Pubes, Mr. Jergens

Don't make Dickie bitch-slap you, Ho!

R.I.P David F. Friedman

Alas, the great David F. Friedman, producer of such exploitation classics as "Blood Feast" and "Two Thousand Maniacs!" has passed away. He was a big hero of mine and a truly larger than life character. This blog is turning into an exploitation hero graveyard lately.

Attack of the Giant Bobby

After the fourth consecutive forced viewing of The Paul Lynde Halloween Special I finally cracked. I was ready to spill my guts before my kidnappers did the very same without my consent. A few hours previous, I'd been ambushed while questioning a Bavarian taxidermist about a series of grizzly bear maulings that had recently taken place in the the upper west side. This just wasn't my day. Earlier in the afternoon I'd been denied a new driver's license at the DMV because, despite my enormous silk turban and curl-tipped shoes, I was unable to provide sufficient identification to prove that my name was actually "Ali Baba". Goddamn bureaucrats! How the hell do they expect me to get a new driver's license under my own name after five drunk driving arrests in a single year?!

I wasn't sure what my captors had in mind for me, but I was crossing my fingers that it didn't involve rat traps or hairy male buttocks. I could hear muffled voices from the next room and it sounded as if my kidnappers were debating whether they would rather have sex with a live squid or a dead Oopa Loompa. This was a fine kettle of fish! Me, a private investigator with an honest-to-God certificate from The Jerry Jergen's Private Investigator School College, tied to a chair with my eyes forced open with tooth picks and duct tape. If only they had forced a pair of silky women's' panties into my mouth as a makeshift gag, I wouldn't have been so embarrassed.

Seeing as how my kidnappers had yet to reveal their motives for my abduction, I broached the subject before I had to once again endure the horror of the effeminate Paul Lynde attempting to play a macho trucker clad in white leather duds, fighting funnyman Tim Conway for the love of diner waitress, Roz "Pinky Tuscadero" Kelly. What any of that had to do with Halloween I was still attempting to figure out on the fourth viewing. I cleared my throat and then addressed my captors in a loud voice so that they could hear me in the next room. "So...ah...to what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your hospitality?"

There was a brief silence and then footsteps from the other room as my kidnappers approached me, finally revealing themselves. Upon laying eyes on the pair I could only gawk in speechless wonder. One of them appeared to be a blond boy, no older than seven years of age, but monstrous in size, wearing blue pajamas that stretched tightly over his skin as if he had been wearing them before experiencing some kind of freakish growth spurt. The second kidnapper was a middle-aged, mustachioed man dressed in a tuxedo, top hat and black cape, the unmistakable trademark costume of your typical stage magician. "I am Montag! Master of illusion!" he said, then gestured to his gargantuan accomplice. "And this is Giant Bobby."

The behemoth child stepped forward with an angry grimace on his face, clutching his fists in rage. "And you're a fucking dead man!" he roared and then punched me hard in the face, bloodying my nose. Montag chuckled. "Giant Bobby has been partaking of the Food of the Gods...a mysterious white liquid that brings about gigantism for reasons that are yet unknown by scientists." he explained. "Unfortunately for you, one of the side effects of Giant Bobby's condition is a ravenous craving for human flesh."

"What are the other side effects?" I asked.

"Irritability, severe diarrhea, which causes the irritability, a fondness for stage magic and an irrational bitterness over the fact that Joe Besser was chosen as Shemp Howard's successor for The Three Stooges." Montag said.

"Hoof and Goofs was fucking terrible!" Giant Bobby screamed and stomped on my foot, breaking my right pinkie toe in his fury.

I attempted to remain calm, despite the fact that I had just wet my pants. "You two wouldn't be mixed up in that series of grizzly bear maulings in the upper west side would you?" I asked, already anticipating the answer.

"As I have mentioned, Giant Bobby has acquired a voracious appetite for human flesh. To feed such an enormous growing boy, one must seek out human meat. The Bavarian taxidermist, Hans Shickelhaggen, provided the grizzly bear skin as a reasonable disguise with which to cover our tracks. Who would suspect that the vicious grizzly bear was in reality a gigantic seven year old boy with a taste for human flesh and a mad magician who's ghastly tricks actually work?"

I thought for a moment. "Hey isn't that former Wheat Thins spokeswoman, Sandy Duncan?" I said excitedly, glancing over my captor's shoulder. The pair turned away momentarily as I struggled to free myself. My ploy was all for naught, as I wasn't able to free myself from the chair before the gigantic youngster and his magician friend turned back to face me with looks of irritation.

"Giant Bobby is hungry!" the boy roared, seizing me by the throat and lifting both me and the chair off of the floor. "Feed Giant Bobby the genie man!" Bobby said, tossing me to the ground and shattering the chair. As I rubbed my throat, gasping for breath, I realized that my humongous silk turban and curl-tipped shoes did in fact make me look like a magic genie of the lamp. "Yes, Giant Bobby...I am a genie...and I come from the magic lamp...my name is Umpoopoo. Perhaps you would rather have three magic wishes rather than just eating me for dinner." I suggested.

Giant Bobby mulled over the idea for a few seconds. "Giant Bobby wants wishes!" Montag looked at me skeptically. Just then we were interrupted by a knock at the door. Without waiting for an invitation to enter, a middle-aged woman walked into the room accompanied by a man in a white doctor's coat. "Bobby, I would like you to meet, Dr. Fredrick Sizzledick." she said.

"And I would like for you to GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" Giant Bobby roared. "Get outta here you bitch! Get outta my room!"

The woman exited the room timidly, shooting the doctor an embarrassed glance as if to apologize for Giant Bobby's rude behavior as he followed her out, closing the door behind him.

"Giant Bobby wants his fucking wishes!" The over-sized boy was now thoroughly enraged. I would have to act quickly if I wanted to survive the bizarre evening. "My wish is your command" I said and then crossed my arms and nodded my head. To my amazement, a puff of purple smoke appeared before me and former Wheat Thins spokeswoman, Sandy Duncan suddenly materialized. "What the shit?" she said, coughing a waving her arms to clear away the haze.

I pointed at Miss Duncan with starstruck glee. "Hey, isn't that former Wheat Thins spokeswoman, Sandy Duncan?!" I said. As Giant Bobby and Montag rushed to Miss Duncan waving their pencils and autograph books in a frenzy, I made well my escape, leaping from the window onto the back of a giant mothman who happened to be soaring under the apartment window at that very moment. As I soared away into the night sky I chuckled. "Merry Christmas to all! And to all I good night!" I said, as the mothman shit on some crazy homeless guy on the sidewalk below. "I love you mothman." I said and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you too, Kevin." he said with a grin.

The End

R.I.P Tura Satana

She may be dead, but she can still beat your ass!

American Pie Redux

A long-ass time ago
When, I can't remember
I saw a film with Jerry Lewis running wild
But what I couldn't figure out
was what the film was all about
it was just Jerry acting like a crazy child

And Hardly Working made me shiver
Don't raise the bridge, just lower the river
Which Way to the Front? and The Patsy
Jerry's dressed up as a Nazi!

And the producers are still horrified
About that piece of shit when the clown cried
It must have hurt old Jerry's pride
The day that project died

So don't cry, Mr. Chocolate Pie
Little Debbie ate at Chevy's
My tarantula died
Them Oak Ridge Boys was rollin' in the pigsty
singin' "This'll be the day the clown cried
"This'll be the day the clown cried"

Did you learn how to make sweet love
while jerking off wearing Playtex gloves
Are you just a skanky ho?
Do you stick your head in toilet bowls?
Can you hide food in your fatty folds?
And can you teach me how to lance my boils?

Well I saw you on that Jungle Gym
As you both sang out like Tiny Tim
you both wore wooden shoes
I play the lottery and always lose

I was s stitched-up teenage Frankenstein
with a raging sex drive and a taste for wine
and I almost lost my mind
The day that worlds collide

I started singin',
Don't lie, Mr. Purple Hair Dye
This dessert is very heavy and the turkey was dry
The Oak Ridge Boys have all kissed me goodbye
I'm singin' This'll be the day the clown cried
This'll be the day the clown cried

Now in the future they'll be armies of clones
and Keith Richards from The Rolling Stones
But now I really have to pee
Then Uncle Fester sang a song by Queen
in a jacket smelling of Jim Beam
and a voice that sounded just like Mr. T

Oh, and while we all dressed up as clowns
our buttocks all made farty sounds
the firewood was all burned
and our fan mail was returned
And while everyone talked like Grouch Marx
A crazy naked man ran through the park
Sheriff Brody killed a great white shark
These beans, they've been refried

And we were singin'
Don't cry, have some more pumpkin pie
I wear a jock strap on my face
I'm an irregular guy
The Oak Ridge Boys crossed over to the dark side
singin' let's all build a new water slide
And down the chute our bodies will glide

And Bobby Belcher was a rumored felcher
who hid his victims in a fallout shelter
He had pink eye from sniffing ass
And liked to wear a Don Knotts mask
inhaling gasses that were passed
As Richard Dreyfuss sculpted potatoes that were mashed

Now your half-assed schemes are all but doomed
aborted from their cozy womb
Don't leave things up to chance
Oh, Jerry Lewis is respected in France
He's a genuis of the silver screen
And they like him better when he's without Dean
He gets bigger laughs than Mr. Bean
The French must have no pride

We started singin' Why deny that we like to get high
Did so much acid that I flipped out and I thought I would die
All this angel dust has made me think I can fly
Maybe I can sore right into the sky
if you think you can stop me just try

Oh, then flying saucers came from outer space
And I dreamt that Genie sat down on my face
A generation soaked in bathtub gin
So come on, Jack be feeble, Jack get sick,
Jack's got herpes sores upon his dick
'cause condoms are for pussies, says Jack's friends

Oh, as Jerry Lewis took the stage
The french declared him all the rage
No angel born in Hades
could stop him from saying "Nice Ladies!"
And as all the Frenchmen sang his praise,
delirious with comic daze
It was fucking Jerry craze
A thought I can't abide

And we were singin'
All die as fire rains from the sky

The Apocalypse is coming and we're all gonna fry

So say farewell and kiss your asses goodbye

'Cause baby this'll be the day that you die

Our eminent destruction is nigh

He played seven parts in The Family Jewels

A nutty cast of crazy fools

A Delicate Delinquent gone astray

The Bellboy and Who's Minding the Store?

And Cracking Up which I deplore

but I've seen it 50 times now anyway

And at the moon the werewolf howls

then drops his pants and moves his bowels

The heads have all been shrunken

I just made love to a pumpkin;

And I tried to be a gracious host

As I raised my wine glass in a toast

To Casper the most friendly ghost

but then I got tongue-tied

I started sayin' Why, why Casper, why did you you die?

You were so friendly and so gentle that I break down and cry

What kind ghoul would murder such a nice guy?

You can walk through walls and also can fly

A little spook so tender and shy

And I was sayin' Why, why Casper, why did you die?

You were so friendly and so gentle that I break down and cry
What kind of fiend could strangle such a sweet guy?

You can walk through walls and also can fly

Dan West's Guide to San Francisco Nightlife

Gurglin' Jack's Hobo Haven (Tenderloin District) Where the Steel Reserve flows on tap, served ice cold in a paper sack. Panhandlers welcome. Delicious cheap vodka that will fuck your shit up served in plastic pint bottles to prevent breakage. Thick with the aroma of urine and body odor (and maybe a little somethin' more!). No cover charge, but a distinct limp is required at the door.

The Hipster Hotel (Mission District) Pabst Blue Ribbon on tap with a bourbon shot for $3.00. Loud and supposedly tongue-in-cheek 70s rock anthems on juke box. Pool table. Strict dress code: Patrons must look as if they have just stepped out of a time machine from 1984, or appear to have been crossbred with a filthy hillbilly during a telaportation mishap, no exceptions.


Slutty's (Union Square) Attractive and under 35 patrons ONLY. Minimum one bottle Cristal or Grey Goose vodka per booth. Free use of booth phones. No skanks. Billboard quality lookers only. 36 and over crowd will be stared at with raised eyebrow and refered to as "Redenbachers".

The Manhole (Castro District) Leather-themed and Highway Patrol friendly, this legendary SF gay bar offers its famous Chaps and Cheeks Contest every Wednesday night. Tom of Finland decor and exotic "erection collection" doll house display. Did someone say "Manwich"?

More Fun Facts!

Jeepers creepers! I can't believes me peepers! This new "Internet" is amazing! Why, all of this useful information is enough to swell your cranium to the size of a large, malformed pumpkin! Just like that creepy mutant that was confined to a wheelchair in the remake of "The Hills Have Eyes"! Did you know that Maximilian de Robespierre, a principal figure in the French Revolution, nicknamed his penis the "The Bananaconda" ? Or that Viking Explorer Leif Erickson first landed on the moon in the year 1000 A.D. ? As an amateur historian, it is my duty to collect and share these interesting historical tidbits with my fellow "knowledge enthusiasts". So here, for your enjoyment and intellectual amazement, I now present an all new collection of fun historical facts to thrill your knowledge-hungry minds!

1.) Artist Claude Monet, the founder of French impressionist painting, achieved some of the most vibrant colors in his work by incorporating a mixture of bloody human feces and vomit in his oil paint!

2.) Despite his death from syphilis in 1870, German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche went on to write no less than 16 books from 1872-1888, including "Thus Spoke Zarathustra" and "On the Genealogy of Morality"!

3.) American President, John F. Kennedy preferred to sleep in a spiderweb-shaped hammock wearing a month-eaten chimpanzee costume he'd purchased at a flea market in 1952.

4.) Thomas Alva Edison, inventor of the phonograph, also founded the music industry's first hip hop record label, CrazeeAssKillah Records, in 1890!

5.) Film Legend Charlie Chaplin died of shoe poisoning in 1977 after cooking and eating one of his own shoes in an attempt to fight off starvation during a snow storm.

6.) Rock and Roll recording artist, Ted Nugent culled the lyrics for his 1977 song, "Wang Dang Sweet Poontang" from a little known poem written by author Edgar Allan Poe in 1847!

7.) Taco Bell franchise founder, "Taco Titan", Charles Bell was a self-confessed cannibal.

8.) Reclusive, "The Catcher in the Rye" author, J.D. Salinger played a storm trooper in the 1977 box office hit, Star Wars!

Well there you have it! More fun facts to make your head spin! I'll be on the look out for more fun and interesting facts to share in the near future! So until the near future comes, keep learning knowledge!

Gurgles, The Heavily-Medicated Chocolate Lovechild

The mad killer had left a trail of butchered bodies in his wake that brought to mind some kind of awful human chum line shoveled out for the police to follow like hungry sharks. His modus operandi was as unpleasant as his nickname, "The Maniacal Murderous Mutilating Madman of Midtown Manhattan". It was rather an excessively-long nickname, but we'd had a contest down at the 21st precinct where the winner who came up with the best nickname for the murderer won a free dinner at Happy Steak and it just so happened that that one was the most popular of the bunch. Personally I liked my own submission : "Kill-O-Tron X: Blood Hunter From The Future", but I was obviously in the minority on that one. In all honesty we could have just gone with "The Kiss Army Killer" which would have made sense given the murderer's habit of writing the police his taunting letters on Kiss Army stationary, but everyone had their own take on the killer's most suitable moniker...I'm just glad nobody actually voted for "Aquaman", because I'm pretty sure that one was meant as a joke.

The killer's latest victim had been found in the bathtub of her midtown apartment by a worried neighbor after she'd failed to show up for a ventriloquism lesson with her teacher, Jackie "Cap'n Patches" Paulsen.

"She never missed a lesson." the neighbor had explained.

"Ventriloquism was her whole life. That and 'Knife Collector's Showcase' on the QVC shopping channel. She tended to work blue, which I didn't particularly care for, but she was very good. Her comic timing was impeccable....God only knows what will become of Pappy Peanuts now that she's been butchered like that." The distraught woman went on to explain that Pappy Peanuts had been the victim's ventriloquist dummy; an overall-clad country bumpkin type of character with a taste for bawdy wordplay.

"Perhaps he can be donated to one of those creepy ventriloquist dummy museums I've heard about." I suggested.

"What kind of a maniac would do something like this?" She said, holding back sobs.

"A maniacal one." I said. "Yes sir, a real maniacal maniac is at work here. He murders and mutilates...he's a madman alright...who murders in the midtown Manhattan area. Yes siree, that's why we call him The Maniacal Murderous Mutilating Madman of Midtown Manhattan, miss... or as those on the inside call him, 'Mmmmmm'". I observed the mutilated body of the victim closely, making several mental notes...most of which were related to a discussion thread I'd chimed in on the previous night concerning World of Warcraft. My level 20 Paladin quest had given me an awesome new weapon and I wanted to share the news with my fellow dwellers of Azeroth.

"Did you happen to see anyone leaving this apartment carrying what appeared to be a human head?" I asked, pulling a pad and pen from my coat pocket. "Perhaps the man would have had something under his coat that might have made him look pregnant. Maybe in the last few days you've seen something strange like that and thought to yourself 'Hmmm, that man looks pregnant, just like Arnold Schwarzenegger in the delightful comedy, Junior. "

The woman thought for a moment. "Come to think of it, I did see a pregnant man carrying a human head, but I didn't really think anything of it until now" she said.

"Can you describe this man?" I asked.

"Well he looked pregnant...about nine months along I'd guess, and was carrying a human head." she said.

"Well seeing as how he couldn't possibly be nine-months pregnant in appearance and carrying a human head at the same time, this man is obviously an imaginary boogie man concocted by your no-doubt senile and traumatized mind, Mame...I'm sorry, but this looks like a dead end."

"But Pappy Peanuts is missing, Mr. Detectiveman. Wouldn't it be possible that the killer might have hidden the missing dummy in his coat, giving him the appearance of being pregnant?"

"Impossible...if he were nine months along as you claim he would have left behind a telltale trail of slimy ventriloquist dummy placenta...just like a giant murderous garden snail. It's always the afterbirth that nails them. At least that's how it goes with World of Warcraft. No, I think you've probably been reading too many Aquaman comic books, Mame, but for the sake of argument I'm going to have you draw a police sketch of this character that you believe you saw on this pad of paper." I said, passing her my pad and pen.

"But...I can't draw." she said.

"Nonsense. You'd be amazed what you can do when you put your mind to it. It doesn't have to be museum quality, Mame. I just need a little something to follow up on. Throw me a bone here for Christ's sake. I'm trying to apprehend a maniac before he strikes again....possibly in this very building...maybe coming back to cover his tracks by eliminating a potential witness who could put his crazy ass in the gas chamber. Follow me, Granny?"

The old woman gave the drawing her best effort, employing what limited artistic talent she possessed, and then passed the pad back, looking slightly embarrassed. I observed the drawing with a grimace of distaste.

"Well you're no Rembrandt, lady, that's for certain. Is that his eye? Looks like Paul Williams with downe syndrome. Is that an arm or a trombone? Shit, a three-year-old could draw a better murderer than this, but thanks for the effort. I'll make some copies and circulate them around...see if we get any nibbles." I tucked the drawing into my pocket. "Well, forensics will be here shortly to mop up this mess. If you see anymore murders you give me a call." I passed her my business card. "You might want to consider taking a few art classes. I believe seniors get some sort of discount at City College." I tipped my hat and turned to take my leave. "Now excuse me, Mame. I have to go shove an entire watermelon up my asshole." I said.

The elderly neighbor looked horrified by the idea. "I'm only funnin' ya, Granny." I said with a chuckle as I headed down the stairs.

Somewhere, out in the cold New York night, a kill-crazy maniac was running loose. I was just glad that I would be safely indoors playing World of Warcraft.

Lubricating The Buttocks Of Jeremiah Grizzly

The children sat attentively, waiting for me to begin the morning's lesson. I opened the bible on a random page and pretended to read.

"The rain had been coming down in buckets for several hours as Dickie and Pickles desperately attempted to seal their makeshift ark with Elmer's glue. It wasn't so much an ark as it was a big wooden shack nailed to a raft. Several months previous, Dickie had overheard the voice of God speak to his next door neighbor, Noah about his plans for an impending flood and some instructions concerning Noah gathering animals in a giant ark. Dickie and Pickles had been on the fence about taking it all seriously until they'd seen Noah at work with his sons, Shemp and Hambone, building the aforementioned gigantic ark.

"They'd been procrastinating until the weather began to take a turn for the worse and then quickly tried to make up for lost time by gathering all the animals they could get their hands on at such short notice. They'd succeeded in rounding up a dodo bird, a tyrannosaurs rex egg, a chicken, a couple maggots, a ceramic piranha fish from the 99 cent store, a tarantula and some crazy guy wearing a mule costume. It promised to be fairly cramped and unpleasant in their hastily constructed ark, but with any luck they would ride out this storm and curry some favor with the big guy in the sky for their efforts. Unfortunately when God saw unto what Dickie and Pickles were doing he did smote them and did pull off their arms and legs and laughed as they lay dying. The angry and vengeful God did then send them to Hell where Satan took pity on Dickie and Pickles and granted them any wish their hearts desired."

I had been the bible studies teacher at St. Anthony's of the Bloody Skull for over two months now and no one was yet wise to my little game. As a militant Satanist, I'd taken it upon myself to infiltrate the Catholic school system and spread the word of Satan from the inside. I'd previously been employed as an art teacher at Satan's School for Girls but was asked to resign after disrobing in front of my class during a nude figure study lesson. My unemployed status had me up a financial creek as my residual checks from the short-lived sitcom, "Joni Loves Chachi" were getting smaller by the month. No one in their right mind wanted to syndicate reruns of that pile of shit and my last check for $1.25 proved that fact. At my age the thought of auditioning for dead end sitcom pilots and Burger King commercials made my stomach turn, which was fine if I was auditioning for a diarrhea medicine commercial, but the last time I'd tried that sort of method approach I'd crapped my pants in front of the director. By shaking the foundations of the Catholic church from the inside I was killing two birds with one stone. I was speading the word of Satan and picking up a paycheck at the same time. Now I could fuel my lottery scratch off addiction to my heart's content.

One of the children raised his hand with a question. I gestured for the child to proceed. "My dad says that all of your lessons sound like a crazy person made them up." He said. I laughed and then spat on the floor. "Well, your dad's a punk, kid. Sit your smart ass back down and don't talk smack."

Another child raised her hand. "Yes?" The girl stood. "Why are you wearing a diaper over your pants?" I ignored the question and performed a handstand before the students, then placed a black comb beneath my nose to create a makeshift Adolf Hitler Moustache. "Heil Hitler!" I snarled, giving a Nazi salute and then suddenly threw up on my desk. Moments later, as I mopped my shirtfront and tie with a Kleenex, I was surprised by a gentle knocking at the classroom door. I seized the letter opener from my desk to use as a weapon in case of attack and turned to face Father Pat O'Brien, the school Principal, standing in the doorway with a look of great concern. I jabbed the letter opener at the priest as my students gasped with horror. "You'll never take me alive, O'Brien!" I screamed, donning my Darth Vadar Helmet, and quickly jumping out of a window to make my escape. "Hail Satan! You've all been had, fuckers!" I screamed back at the class as I bolted across the playground.