As many of you know, I participated in a marathon last year, so I thought I'd give some tips in case any of you are considering a marathon.
The trick is to find somebody who is in such a financial bind that they will carry you for some cash. I found a guy so desperate to get a needed medical procedure for his son, hell, I think I could have got him to do almost anything. He sure did love that dumb sick kid.
Once you have your carrier arranged, the best training is to sit on your ass. Software developers and truck drivers make great marathon candidates.
A marathon can last for hours. Make sure you bring plenty of food. I brought a little hibachi grill with me and I sure was thankful I did. Nothing like hot grilled chicken wings to keep you going. Sometimes I would hold one just out of reach in front of my carrier. I'm positive it made him run faster.
Again, a marathon can last for hours, so make sure to bring some entertainment. I was thankful I made the choice to bring my laptop. Imagine how horrible it would be to go through an entire marathon without access to porn.
Did I mention marathons last a long time? Wear shorts that allow you to easily go to the bathroom while on the move. Probably best to not wear underwear.
Don't forget your riding crop whip. It's a great motivator for your carrier.
Most of all, have fun! It's just a marathon! No need to exert yourself.
You can't stay young, but you can stay young at heart.
Do a cannonball into the pool.
Ride your bike.
Go down the slide at the park.
Open a roadside lemonade stand.
TP old man Johnson's house.
Eat your boogers
Make fun of somebody who can't afford name brand clothes.
Drop your pants and pee wherever you happen to be standing.
Use racial slurs with impunity.
TP old man Johnson's house again.
Yell degrading comments about a guy's sexual persuasion as he passes your house. If the guy is smaller than you, go down and push him around a bit. Ask him where thinks he's going and why he's hitting himself while you make him hit himself. And of course, the finally is making him eat grass.
And why am I the only one in the neighborhood giving people wedgies? Last year I gave some dude such a good wedgie that it severed one of his testicles. He was a complete poor sport and now we're in litigation. I'm not really supposed to be talking about it on advice from my lawyer, but fuck it. I AM YOUNG AT HEART. Doesn't really matter because nobody can get me while I'm in my awesome impenetrable box fort I built in the living room.
I found this in my foyer this morning. Does anybody even know what the hell it is?
Dave's bar is a fine establishment to take in a pint or two on nights when asshole isn't there. Asshole ruins the whole vibe with his boisterous, obnoxious voice, but tonight I'm the only asshole. Maybe that's the thing… The place is only big enough for one asshole. After I achieve the perfect buzz and every gal in the joint makes it clear she wants nothing to do with me, I decide to call it a night. I exit out the back door because the regulars use the back door at Dave's. And look who pulls up… It's asshole in his asshole convertible. Great timing, asshole. He gets out of the car and lights a cigarette. His wife is with him, but she stays seated. She's holding a plastic bucket. She's puking in it.
"What the hell is the matter with you? Your old lady is sick. You need to take her home, asshole."
Without even looking my direction, he flips me off. The thing about asshole is he's a pretty big mother fucker.
He's intimidating and he knows it, but he's looking pretty drunk tonight, so I might have a chance. I've had just enough beer to feel brave.
"Take care of your damn woman or I'm going to kick your ass, you fucking shit sucking cockwomble."
Asshole drops the cigarette. He walks around the car and steals his wife's puke bucket. He hoists it in the air my direction. It spins. Puke is flying. Several cars get the treatment. Asshole is amused by his accomplishment and chuckles.
I kick the puke bucket back at him and it hits his car. His mood changes. He makes eye contact and just points at me. Shit, what have I done? But then he just walks away and into Dave's bar to be an asshole in there.
I once again retrieve the puke bucket and offer it to asshole's wife who is still sitting in the car. She doesn't take it. She doesn't even look at me. She's got puke in her hair. I gently place the bucket in her lap. Then I give assholes car a swift kick in the door leaving a beautiful dent.
Might be a good idea if I stay away from Dave's bar for a while.
We're glad to see our friend Roland is getting the recognition he deserves for his amazing talent!
What has Troy been doing since social distancing began? He's been exiling himself in the attic and going mad. Check out the videos.
While I think it's pretty cool that LeVar Burton is doing his Reading Rainbow show free online, I don't believe the book he's reading is appropriate for kids. That's just my opinion.
Old Man Freakboy's radio show Hey Kids Get Off My Lawn is one of the best places you can go to find music not supported by commercial radio. Go check it out and I'm sure you’ll hear something new.
Old Man Freakboy let me have control of the reigns for an episode. Go check it out here. Then check out the huge archive of shows.
We're proud to announce our new comic strip series: Apocalypse Comycs.
Check it out here.
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.