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I wonder how this went down. Maybe something like this...
Chewbacca: Hey George, how come I don't have a costume to wear?
George Lucas: Yeah... I've decided I'm just going to have you run around naked the whole movie.
Chewbacca: What? Are you making a high budget porn?
George Lucas: No... It's really more of an art film. Now take off your clothes.
Chewbacca: You want me to clean myself up down there? It's a little wild.
George Lucas: Hell no! This is the 70s.
It was a miracle I made it home last night as drunk as I was. It went down something like this… My wife is pissed. I know this because she changed the locks on me. Well I ain't sleeping on the lawn like a dog, so I give the door a good swift kick and the jam splits. I get inside and realize my wife has been busy spending my hard-earned money because I see she’s bought all new furniture. She’s also repainted the place, put in a staircase and built a second floor. I have to admit she did a pretty good job and I'm impressed with her carpentry skills.
Next thing I know, this guy barrels out of my bedroom brandishing a baseball bat. Like all white men, I'm terrified of black men, and this guy is black and red with anger. Scared as I am, I stand my ground and yell, “Are you fucking my wife?” He looks puzzled so I repeat, “I asked you if you’re fucking my wife!” Just then my wife comes out of the bedroom. And get this, she’s in total black face. She even painted her arms and legs and is she’s wearing a black wig. I'm like, "Woman, don't you know that's racist?""
It starts to occur to me that there is a slight possibility this house isn’t my house and maybe this woman isn’t my wife. After all, I'm not stupid. Thinking back, the street didn’t really look like my street and the oak tree I hit in the front yard wasn't there yesterday. Also, I recall I'm on a business trip. But for all I know, that guy could be fucking my wife. I mean, a lot of people fuck my wife. Oh Troy, you're in some hot water now because this very irritated couple is calling the police. What are you going to do? You're going to use your wits, that's what you’re going to do. The cops arrive and I tell them this couple kidnapped me and they have been torturing me and thank God you guys got here to save me. The cops drag the couple out of their house and take them away. Problem solved. And as a bonus I found some expensive looking jewelry in the bedroom. This will make my wife happy and hopefully keep her nagging mouth shut about my drinking for a while.
Crap… I just remembered my wife is dead.
Heck of a way to start the new year! I woke up with this nasty boyle on my neck.
Question: Do boyles normally scream when you lance them?
I have to cut slits for my toenails into every pair of shoes I buy. Why don't I cut my toenails instead? Because long toenails are my identity. It would be like Super Man without an "S" or Mario without a mustache or Kim Kardashian without psoriasis.
Long toenails are also handy (or should I say footy?) when you're playing footsy. What girl wouldn't get all tingly when you gently stroke her leg with your magnificent 3 inch toenail? I once got a woman so excited with sexy toes, she started gagging.
And finally, these things are protection. They won't let me carry a knife onto the plane, but they can't confiscate these babies! My nails are thick and sharp and they will cut you up if you mess with me. Just ask my ex-wife. I got careless one day and now she's missing an eye.
I can't tell you how upset and angry I am with Delta for kicking me off my flight because of my emotional support badger. I AM GOING TO SUE THEM AND I AM GOING TO OWN THAT AIRLINE!
I’m kind of the Johnny Appleseed of wet willies. I spread them wherever I go from coast to coast. The lady sitting in front of me on the bus gets a wet willy. The old man in line at the supermarket gets a wet willy. Basically anybody I’m sure can’t beat me up gets a wet willy.
Traditionally, a wet willy is made of three materials: spit, my finger and your ear. But here at what I like to call the Wet Willy Institute of Technology, we've come up with some new and interesting wet willy materials. I once used a slug on a guy who was struggling in crutches. Another time I found the perfect shaped turd and used that on a big guy who had been hit by a car and couldn’t move. Amazing how wide his eyes opened as I squished it in his ear. I think it helped take his mind off his mangled body, so you’re welcome, mister. Another time I put a rusty screwdriver in a little girl’s ear.
Because of my tremendous generosity, I often volunteer at the local assisted living center. Those old people try to scurry away when they see me coming, but they just can’t move fast enough to escape my finger. Sometimes I change it it up sticking my greased finger into a different orifice-- like a butt hole. That's always good for laughs. Then I steal their stuff. I mean, as generous as I am, a guy has to make a living, amirite? Sometimes I hear those silly seniors begging the staff to force me leave, but fortunately nobody listens to old people.
Some people act really mad when you give them a wet willy, but I know they’re laughing on the inside. Sometimes they try to claim I’m assaulting them, to which I say, “I’ll a-salt you!” Then I throw salt in their face. If they don’t find that funny then I know the person is dead inside and I feel sorry for them. Take, for instance, the little girl with the screw driver in her ear. She just fell down and trembled for a few seconds then stopped moving altogether. What a little drama queen! How terrible to take everything so seriously at such a young age. Wet willies are for spreading joy and laughter and bacteria.
And there you have it. That’s why I consider myself the Johnny Appleseed of wet willies. Also of herpes.
At the end of every Mr. Rogers’ show he sang
I'll be back when the day is new.
And I'll have more ideas for you.
And you'll have things you'll want to talk about.
I will too.
Thinking back... The Facts Of Life got a little weird at the end of its run. I guess the writers were trying to shake things up to make the show relevant again. Still, they probably went too far when they added TJ. It was truly uncomfortable to watch.
What an experience it was being a juror on a federal case! Here are a few things I learned from this experience:
The world is going to hell. People don’t know how to take responsibility even for their own kids! Take for instance the time I was on vacation, driving down a desolate desert, enjoying the sunset and what do I spot but a baby, I'm talking a human baby, and it's crawling across the road. Of course, I stop. I’m not a monster! I get out and gently nudge him off the road with my foot. One must be careful because I certainly didn’t want to get bit by a strange baby, especially while I was in the middle of nowhere. I had no idea if he had rabies or was diseased or what his story was. Plus, I’ve always heard you’re not supposed to handle them too much because if the mother returns and the baby smells funny, she might reject it. Another thing to remember if you happen to be in the same situation is to make sure you push the baby off the road in the direction it’s crawling or else it might turn around and crawl back onto the road.
Once I had the baby safely off the road I drove off I thinking, “I’ve done all I can, it’s now up to you, little guy.” I didn’t get but a few hundred feet when I spotted a pack of wild dogs headed toward the baby. I said to myself, “I’ll bet those wild dogs will raise that baby.” It’s beautiful how things seem to work out sometimes. And nothing beats the feeling you get after you do something nice. From now on I I will always stop for a baby in the road, unless I don’t feel like it or I'm in a hurry.
I know it's crass and juvenile of me, but let's address it. Where was that thing relieving itself the whole time it was in her apartment? Did she potty train him? Probably not. He seemed advanced enough that I'll bet he didn't want to soak in his own waste in the tub. So I imagine the first thing he did when he got into some real water was to let loose. I know it's pretty much the first thing I do whenever I jump into a pool.
God have mercy if you witnessed as a child the episode of Mr. Roger’s where a serial killer escapes into the Neighborhood of Make-Believe. It's burned into my memory how the killer catches every single inhabitant and breaks each of their backs, leaving them paralyzed on the trolley tracks. The only thing they could do is scream… and boy, did they. Then the killer lifted the trolley and went down the line smashing all of their little heads with the trolley. It was brutal.
Most people regard this episode as the one that finally jumped the shark, but I understand why Fred Rogers did it. Kids needed to learn that no place is safe, not even their imagination. Plus, the show was coming to the end of its long run. I guess Fred wanted to go out with a bang. And let’s face it, there were at least a few of those damn puppets we all wanted to see killed, like that stupid cat, Henrietta, who would randomly interject “meow” into all her stupid sentences. Also, Lady Elaine Fairchilde, who was obviously a drunk.
Troy Lukkarila talks about the challenges of being a clown on this video rant.
It was a crowded, stand-up rock and roll show. I was standing. My friends were standing. The guy next me was standing behind his standing girlfriend, lovingly holding her shoulders so everybody would know who she belonged to as they swayed in unison to the music. I was secretly checking out the girl when the guy lifted his hand off her shoulder and shoved his finger deep into his nose. Let me tell you, he picked the shit out of that thing, and it wasn't exactly quick, but she was into the music looking ahead at the band. When he finally found whatever he was looking for, he unselfishly gave it to his girlfriend by way of wiping it on her back, then he replaced his hand on her shoulder. She reached back and lovingly rubbed the hand, none the wiser. The perfect crime. And executed so flawlessly. I would have shaken his hand, but… ew.
My neighbor informed me that he and his mathematician wife are moving to Michigan because his wife has a great job opportunity at a university there. On hearing this news, I didn't offer congratulations. I didn't mention Michigan is full of beautiful forests and terrain. No, instead I chose to respond the same way every other lunk headed Floridian must respond, "It's going to be a lot colder up there."
My neighbor politely agrees, but I detect I've killed him a bit inside. He probably can’t wait to move away from his idiot neighbors and everybody else who has said the exact same stupidly obvious thing to him.
I do believe we have a problem in society where people tend to be needlessly cruel to each other, but on the other hand, I deserved mockery for my stupid statement. My neighbor SHOULD have responded with maximum sarcasm, "You mean to tell me Michigan is up north? Well dang! If only my wife had gotten her doctorate in geography instead of mathematics, we woulda knowd that. We just never considered that Michigan is colder than Florida when we were considering this life-changing move. Thank you SO much for enlightening us with your great wisdom. I just wish we'd talked to you before we went through all the trouble of putting our house up for sale."
To my neighbor and the rest of the world, I apologize for my stupidity. For the record, I have a Bachelor of Science degree, so I'm not a complete fucking idiot. I just sound like one sometimes. Feel free to call me out at those times. I promise to return the favor.