A Brutal Continuation

My friend Sanchez brought up her love for Tom Swifties. A Tom Swiftie is a sentence that employs a corny joke at the end by using a w(sh)itty adverb to take the exclamation to new heights of mirth. They ARE clever, but I wanted to see if I could inject some minor humor into them by taking things down a notch. A typical Tom Swiftie may look like this:

“My pencil is broken,” Tom said pointlessly." (thanks for the example Sanchez)

Cute? Yes. Funny? A bit. Good clean fun? Perhaps.

That being said, may I submit for your reading pleasure my rendition of Tom Swifties that are not very cute, kinda humorous, and provide the same amount of good clean fun the kids used to have at a G.G. Allin concert.

"Dude, this is NOT a fever blister," Tom lamented herpetically.
"My, that's some fart," Tom exclaimed explosively.
"C'mon sweetie, not even the the tip?" Tom begged cheekily.
"I think she had an adams apple," Tom bubbled sassily
"Jesus Christ," Tom shouted crossly
"Michael J Fox rules," Tom stuttered shakily
"I'm not kissing you after that," Tom said neatly
"We can just share my needle," Tom giggled contagiously
"No cans," Tom remarked empty-handedly
"I'm almost done with the crematorium," Tom announced germanely
Are you smuggling turduckens in that sweater," Tom flirted se-duck-tively

So OK, I made that last one up. The concept of smuggling turduckens in a sweater is much funnier than the old "are you smuggling peas" line you use when somebody's high-beams are on.

Well, I got my daily dose of being 12.

"Vaya con Dios," Scott mourned forsakenly

I. Ate. Her.

It's been a while. Been tied up with apartments exploding, band members finding their extra chromosome, and undiagnosed illnesses.

It's been a rough month and frankly I'm in a pretty shitty mood. I thought I would get back in the swing of things with a small tribute to one of the most fucked up serial killers that I've ever had the pleasure of reading about.

Mr. Albert Fish

Here's a fine sample right from the pen of the legend himself!

From a letter to ten year old Grace Budd's mother (his mispellings):

"When she saw me all naked she began to cry and tried to run down the stairs. I grabbed her and she said she would tell her mamma. First I stripped her naked. How she did kick — bite and scratch. I choked her to death, then cut her in small pieces so I could take my meat to my rooms. Cook and eat it. How sweet and tender her little ass was roasted in the oven. It took me 9 days to eat her entire body. I did not fuck her tho I could of had I wished. She died a virgin"

And from a confession of the murder of 8 year old Billy Gafney:

"Then I split the cheeks of his behind open, cut off his monkey and pee wees and washed them first. I put strips of bacon on each cheek of his behind and put them in the oven. Then I picked 4 onions and when the meat had roasted about 1/4 hour, I poured about a pint of water over it for gravy and put in the onions. At frequent intervals I basted his behind with a wooden spoon. So the meat would be nice and juicy. In about 2 hours, it was nice and brown, cooked through. I never ate any roast turkey that tasted half as good as his sweet fat little behind did. I ate every bit of the meat in about four days. His little monkey was a sweet as a nut, but his pee-wees I could not chew. Threw them in the toilet."

Before he was electrocuted, he was X-rayed and found to have dozens of needles that had been inserted over the years through his perineum. That's "taint" to you and me. What a cut-up!

Hug your kids if you have them, and if you don't, please don't eat mine.

*Note to the psychos in the audience...avoid the pee-wees*

Right in the mouth part of your face, buddy.

I just thought that would be a really cool thing to say before you punched somebody in the mouth.

The band is playing some dive in Glen Burnie MD this weekend. I was looking at the pictures of the place and the folks in the bar look sort of like the audience of a 70's porn awards ceremony. I hope we at least place.

Blind justice and the case of the poopety pants

I tortured my wife the other day by walking into the bedroom, closing the door, and completely busting ass. After laughing, I left the room.

About 30 seconds later I felt a tugging at the back of my waistband. I turned around and my son was tugging at the back of my pants. I said "Whatcha doing there?", and he said "Daddy went poop".

On another note, my lazy buddy Hijar decided he was going to pass the bar exam. This will be the first bar of any type he's ever successfully passed.

Meet the new Face of Justice:

Sanchez sez...

If loving huge pole is a crime, then I'm a felon

Merry X-wingmas

Renai's thoughts on a more sensual Christmas

In all caps, as bold and triumphant as the majestic peal of Gabriel's horn...

Ummmm, I meant "sexy" like a fat man holding a diet Red Bull and a 7-11 fart-bag burrito.