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"?