Damn it

My roommate got me sick. I'm going to piss in his bed. I'll blame it on the dog. We don't have a dog, but I'll tell him that I brought one of my clients' dogs over and he pissed on the bed. And so he doesn't get mad at the dog, I'll get a picture of the cat hanging from the tree branch ("Hang in there!"), replace the face with the head of a really cute dog, and place it in the middle of the wet bed.

And if my roommate gets me sick again, I'm going to repeat the whole process, but this time I'm going to tell him the dog didn't leave his photo as an apology. Oh, no. It's his calling card. The psychological blow will be devastating.

Dali-Influenced Flash Animation

ZoomQuilt. Very cool.

Better Living Through Trickery

While eating brunch at IHOP last Sunday, my sister and I entered negotiations for what game we would play that afternoon.

TINA: What do you want to play?
JASON: Why don't you pick a game?
TINA: No, you pick it.
JASON: Fine. Scrabble.
TINA: If I didn't want to play Scrabble yesterday, why would I want to play it today?
JASON: See? This is why I want you to pick the game. You don't want to play any of the games I do.
TINA: Okay. Monopoly.
JASON: No. It's stupid.
TINA: Fun City.
JASON: You mean Fight City? Do you remember what happened the last time we played it?
TINA: Trivia Pursuit.
JASON: Nnn--wait. I like Trivia Pursuit. Okay.

When we brought the game out, Tina and my Mom showed why they would make master negotiators. Their strategy, which continues to work in spite of the fact I am aware they are using it, is to toss out a series of ludicrous demands, knowing full well I will be overwhelmed and unable to protest each one.

TINA: Here are the rules. Mom and I get to play against you.
JASON: What?
MOM: And we can look up all of the answers on Google.
JASON: No, you're not looking the answers up on Google.
TINA: Fine. We'll only look up the really important ones.
JASON: No! Google is out of the question.

So half an hour later, I'm down 3 pie pieces to 1 and proud of myself that the computer isn't connected to the Internet.

If I were in a normal family and my sister and Mom asked to play together, I would be flattered. It would be an implied compliment to my intelligence, or at least my ability to retain trivia. Not with these two. My Mom and sister must snort lines of Gingko Biloba before I come over because my arrival somehow triggers the recollection of long-ago faded memories, all of which feature me doing something stupid.

My family doesn't even provide segues anymore or attempt to relate the stories to the current conversation. At lunch, Tina was telling us about her research project with turtles when in mid-sentence she burst out laughing.

MOM: What is it?
TINA: Do…you…remember [she pauses to grasp her aching sides and wipe the tears from her eyes] Japanese steakhouse. Jason.
MOM: HA HA HA HA! Yes! When he--

At this point, they both doubled over with laughter, unable to speak. I stirred my corn, having no idea what they are talking about but certain that, one, it was a tale transforming a small mistake I made into an epic story highlighting the buffoonery inherent in the human condition, and two, I would soon have an chance to have my own Corn Flakes moment and relieve the embarrassment again like it was the first time.

Thus, the Trivia Pursuit tag-team is no reflection of they having a high opinion of me. It is a reflection of the family life force that originated decades ago through a macabre fusion of genetics and psychology. We live through chicanery.

As a kid, Michele would stash Monopoly money in the bathroom before we played and then "need a bathroom break" every time she wanted to buy a hotel or another railroad. Tina, who disliked milk, would wait until I was distracted and swap her full glass with my half-empty one at the dinner table. Mom acted maturely until we were all sent off to college, where at that point she would wait until strangers walked by her car and then turn the car alarm on. I, the connoisseur, preferred more subtle methods of trickery, like telling my sister she got a Trivia Pursuit question wrong when in fact she got it right.

Asking aloud to search for answers on Google was a half-hearted attempt at best. If they were in the mood, Tina would have hid a laptop in the pantry and one of them would have gotten up to fetch a bowl of chips or can of soda every time they encountered a difficult question. They would have filled their game piece with pie slices while I would still be trying to figure out why my Mom wanted a can of kidney beans so badly.

The game might have ended differently if they played alone, but I doubt it. I knew it was a long night when this was the first question.

ME: What is removed with a hysterectomy?
MOM: I had one of those!
TINA: Go Mom!
MOM: A uterus.
ME: That's right.
MOM: Oh, no.
TINA: What?
MOM: It would have been funny if I had said penis.

Happy Birthday, Tina!

My sister Tina's birthday is today. She is a quarter of a century old. Random memory of her:

Tina likes to give me fashion advice. Her volume is based on how urgent the advice is. During a visit home, she looked at my pants and yelled, "JASON, STOP WEARING PLEATED PANTS! THEY MAKE YOU LOOK LIKE AN OOMPA-LOOMPA."

Random Assortment

* I'm so glad Inside Edition is coming back. They were kicking culture in the kneecaps back when it was still standing and the other news magazine shows were gossiping about it in the corner.

* I saw an ad for Miss Congeniality 2. It quoted a reviewer who wrote, "Better than the first one!" Excuse me? How can anything be better than perfection?

* There are diploma mills that churn out thousands of phony degrees. There are puppy mills that churn out thousands of popular-breed puppies. They should form a partnership. The diploma mills can provide paper for the puppies' potty training, and the puppy mills can provide guard dogs to protect from investigate news programs like...well, there are none anymore. So screw that.

* My sister Tina has been lobbying for a "birthday week", where I would post something about her on Pancake City every day for a week.

ME: "What would I write about for a week?"
TINA: "All the good things about me."
ME: "Do you want a birthday week or a birthday minute?"

Do you know what I like about my family? We take turns providing the set-up.

* My other sister, Michele, finally got rid of the grey cat. It didn't even make it to Naming Day. The grey cat violated the "Three Strikes and You're Out" rule, except replace "three" with "10" and "strikes" with "peeing on her and Evan's stuff".

* My Mom is turning 60 in September. I think she is worrying about being put in a nursing home. We were watching the news when a story on Terry Schiavo came on TV. They were talking about pulling out her feeding tube and Mom said, "No! They can't do that! She spent her entire life raising those three, ungrateful kids!"

Fake Romance Novel Covers

Many of these are hilarious (thanks Amy).

How Bad Is "The Rock"?

My sister, Michele, recently joined Netflix, which allows you to see movie ratings from your friends and family.

She saw that I had rated "The Rock", an action movie starring Sean Connery and Nicholas Cage in the same way that my balls are starring in my nutsack. Many years ago, we had watched the movie along with my other sister, Tina. Our mom's boyfriend at the time, who loved the movie, brought it over on tape. After suffering through an hour and a half of the movie and threatening to turn it off several times, the tape runs out five minutes before the end. We screamed. It remains one of our most searing examples in our lives of the psychological necessity for closure.

Lest you think I am exaggerating about the horror this movie inflicted upon our psyches, after Michele found out I had rated the movie (two stars), she called and left a worried message. She was worried, without irony, that in a fit of forgetfulness I had rented the movie again.

"The Rock" generated the same reaction from my sister as if I were a former alcoholic and she found out I had gone drinking over the weekend. Now that's a bad movie.

Superman Is a Dick

Writing for "Superman's Pal, Jimmy Olsen" in the 60s must have been the best job in the world (link from LYD).

Why It's Bad To Think and Drive

I was lost in thought yesterday and ran a red light. Dumb. And that was before the police, which I will henceforth in my life refer to as the "PO-lice," pulled me over.

$156 fine. $100 for the fine, $51 for a processing fee, $5 for a local processing fee, or "Processing Fee Jr."

To those of you who don't live in Virginia, $56 for processing fees may seem exorbitant. What you don't know is that while Virginia's ticketing system is electronic and you can pay online or by phone, the driving records of the state's citizens are kept on stone slabs and can only be modified by a professional stone cutter. His name is Larry. This is also why points stay on your license for so long down here.

In that light, $56 for the services of a master stonemason is actually a bargain. I am going to include an extra $20 for his work and ask if I can come by to watch and make a paper rubbing afterwards.

The Story of Zero

I've been watching a lot of Washington Wizards games this season, and one of the stories Steve Buckhantz enjoys trotting out is how in college Gilbert Arenas chose 0 as his jersey number because that's the number of minutes his detractors said he would get.

Evidentially, detractors have become more sophisticated with time. Back when I was in college, we would just tell people that they sucked and, if feeling particularly creative, that their suckiness would continue well into the future. The taunt, "Not only do you suck, but the degree of your lack of skill entails one to come to only one conclusion: the cumulative number of minutes marking your playing time will not rise above 0," never occurred to us.

It's an inspiring story, but what about all the players who hear this anecdote and decide to pick 0 for their jersey number without realizing that they suck? So not only are they getting no minutes, they also have a giant 0 on their back, like part of a costume for a super loser.

ANNOUNCER1: "There's Steve Zenkowich, the only player in Eagles history never to be put in a game."

ANNOUNCER2: "And with the Eagles only up by 34, that likely won't change in this game."

ANNOUNCER1: "That's right, Bill. Zenkowich's suckiness is legendary. Although in theory adding him to the game with a minute left would be safe, that's a risk the coach just can't take."

ANNOUNCER2: "Interesting story behind Zenkowich's jersey. When he joined the team as a walk-on four years ago, Steve decided to pick 0 for his jersey number to show up his detractors who thought he would get 0 playing minutes. Unfortunately, the 0 has served as a popular target for the more unruly fans to pelt with empty cups and popcorn."

ANNOUNCER1: "Hold on there. It looks like Zenkowich is finally getting to play in a game. Steve has gotten up and…ooh, it looks like he was just getting rid of a wedgie."

ANNOUNCER2: "One of the hazards of staying on the bench too long."

ANNOUNCER1: "Indeed. In fact, Zenkowich had to miss three games this season from a blood clot in his left leg."

ANNOUNCER2: "Sitting on a bench for the whole game isn't as easy as it looks."

ANNOUNCER1: "No, it isn't."

The Pancake City Guide to the Bible: Part 1 of ???

On a whim, I borrowed the King James version of the Bible from a library. I've been meaning to read it for years, both because of its lyrical language and the creative fuel I suspect it will provide.

I'm reading it non-lineraly and am only a few dozen pages into the book. So this may be the first and last entry related to the Bible. Or it could be one in a very long series. Who knows? Besides God. And Revelation 3:12 ("And there will be a blog called Pancake City, and it will be mildly amusing and infrequently updated...")

If that joke isn't sacrilegious, what is?

***
Leviticus, Chapters 1-5

Summary: You sin, you lose a goat.

Expanded: And don't even try that "I don't have a goat" crap. Don't have a goat, bring a ram, No ram, get a lamb. No lamb, two turtledoves. No turtledoves, two pigeons. No pigeons, then the tenth part of an ephah of fine flour. We could go on, but you get the picture. Don't try to pull one on us. We thought of everything. And if the animal is old or unhealthy, don't bother. This isn't the Monty Python Parrot sketch.

And that which is left of the meat offering shall be Aaron's and his sons, the priests, so we would appreciate it if you could bring your sacrifices before dinner.

Oh, Yahoo

A real-life conversation:

"Harold! What are you doing in there?"
"Nothing, hon."
"You locked the door."
"Hold on. I'll be out in a minute."
"You're look at porn again, aren't you? Answer me."
"No, of course not."
"You lying bastard! You told me you stopped. You..." [breaks down and sobs]
"Trust me. I'm not looking at porn."
"Oh, really? Then what are you looking at, Harold?"
"Uhhhhh...puppies."
"Puppies?"
"Yeah. Lots of cute puppies."
"You think I'm that stupid? You do, don't you? Well, that's it. I'm leaving, Harold. Goodbye." [door slams]
"Honey, wait! You don't understand. I'm using Yahoo Image Search. Yahoo Image Search! Oh, no. Curse ye, you hoards of delightfully cute puppies! What havoc have you wrought upon my soul?"

So...

What channel is the NIT on?

I watched the last 10 minutes of the Maryland-Clemson game. They were completely lost without Gilchrist. I'm bummed Maryland is going to miss the tournament, but maybe it will serve as motivation for next year.

Duke still sucks!

Dan Rather's Farewell Speech

"You can kiss my cheek or you can kiss my ass, but either way, you're kissing something."

Before the graveyard...

I wrote a skit and later realized that the premise is inherently flawed. The premise is that Rush Limbaugh, Bill O'Reilly, and a helium balloon are competing for the 2005 Gasbag of the Year Award.

Funny idea, right? But it didn't work, and several drafts and comments from friends later I've come to realize that the premise has contradictions in itself that make it almost impossible to convert into a great skit.

I'm still working the contradictions out, but one of several that I thought of so far is that I'm trying to parody two things at the same time: the personalities of Rush Limbaugh/Bill O'Reilly, and right-wing talk radio. Writing skits with more than one subject just doesn't work.

There is also the choice of the game show format, which requires lots of short responses, and trying to parody Limbaugh and O'Reilly, which I believe requries them to speak for several sentences at a time.

It's an odd notion to me--that a skit can be flawed just because of a poor structure. I've always worked under the idea that in sketch writing, what is important is how the concept is done, not the concept itself. That a truly creative person could find a way to make any premise work. Now I think the premise is at least as important as the writing, possibly more so.

Okay, enough self-absorption. Here's the skit. You may find it amusing, may not.

HOST: "Welcome to the finals of the 2005 American Gasbag Competition. I'm Chuck Sewer. By the end of this night, one of these three talk show hosts will be America's Gasbag of the Year. Let's meet the finalists."

HOST: "A titan of radio and TV, and guardian of the No-Spin Zone: Bill O'Reilly."

O'REILLY: "I'm going to lecture you like I've never lectured before."

HOST: "Always right, never wrong, he puts the left where they belong. Rush Limbaugh."

LIMBAUGH yanks out a bottle of pills and tosses back the whole bottle. As the pills fall, he snaps at them like a mad dog tearing at a piece of meat. Most of the pills miss his face and fall on the floor.

HOST: "And give it up to our returning champion, helium balloon!

BALLOON: "EEE-EEE-EEE."

O'REILLY: "Hey!"

HOST: [laughing] "No win zone, indeed. First up is the lighting round. You will be given a series of topics. Whoever makes the most outrageous statement about it wins. Hands to the buzzer!

BALLOON: "EEE-EEE-EEE."

HOST: "Just vibrate then. First topic. ACLU."

O'REILLY: [buzzer] "Hitler would be a card-carrying ACLU member."
LIMBAUGH: [buzzer] "Hitler? If Hitler had sex with Satan, their baby would be President of the ACLU."
BALLOON: "EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE."

HOST: "Judges? Helium balloon by a nose!"

RIMBAUGH: "Come on! Who are the judges, the New York Times?"

HOST: "Sorry Rush, but two-headed Hitler-Satan baby that pees evil is the winner. Next topic: The Clintons."

LIMBAUGH: Last week, Hillary Clinton had sex with the two-headed Hitler-Satan baby, "Hitlan".
O'REILLY: "Then she brought a catapult to Iraq and flung aborted babies at our troops.
HOST: "Wow. Helie is stunned squeak-less. Well, let's see who the judges [sees Balloon shaking] Yes?
BALLOON: "EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE."
O'REILLY: [angry] "Mmph!"
HOST: "Ohhhhhh, my! Can you say that about a woman and a water hose? Another one for H.B. Final topic: the torture at Abu Ghraib."

LIMBAUGH: "It's amazing to me how outraged the libs are about this "scandal." I mean, you ever hear of needing to release some steam?
BALLOON: "EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEEE.

O'Reilly thinks for a moment.

O'REILLY: "EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE."

HOST: "This round: O'Reilly!"
BALLOON: "EEE-EEE-EEE."
LIMBAUGH: "Yeah, he just repeated what he said!"
HOST: "Welcome to the right-wing echo chamber, guys."
O'REILLY: [mocking contestants with echo] "You suck…you suck…you suck…"
BALLOON: "EEE-EEE-EEE."
O'REILLY: [covering his chest] "You smear merchant!"
HOST: [laughing] "Oh, Helie. I'm sure O'Reilly has the same number of nipples as everyone else. Let's check the leader board. H.B. is on top with 20, O'Reilly has 10 and Rush is dead last with 0."

HOST: "Next is the all-important skills competition. Your task today is to get our mystery guest to shut up as fast as possible. Let's bring him out. Coming all the way from a back alley behind the CVS down the street. It's…a homeless person."

ELDERLY MAN creeps on stage with cane.

ELDERLY PERSON: "You told me you had food."
HOST: "That's hilarious! Bill, you're first. Go!"
ELDERLY PERSON: "Dear sir, do you have any food?"
O'REILLY: "Who is this joker?"
ELDERLY PERSON: "I'm elderly and cold."
O'REILLY: "Somebody shut his mike off."
ELDERLY PERSON: "I'm so hungry. I wish I had a doughnut."
O'REILLY: " Listen, buddy. You're in the No Spin zone. The only thing you're eating is the truth."
ELDERLY PERSON: "Can I have gravy with the truth?"
O'REILLY: "That's it. Cut his mike. This interview is over. I'm not going to dress you down anymore, out of respect for your father."
ELDERLY PERSON: "My father's 93. He was a pirate. Where is the food? I'm--(mouths rest of sentence)
HOST: "34 seconds! That might be good enough for first place. The mike cut-off comes through again."
ELDERLY PERSON: "But my name is Henry."

HOST: "Isn't he adorable? Rush, you're next. You'll need to be 34 seconds for a chance to win. Go!"
LIMBAUGH: "Woah, woah, woah. Hold on here. What on God's Earth is a "homeless" person?"
HOST: "It's a person without a home."
LIMBAUGH: "Well, what's he doing here? Tell him to go home."
ELDERLY PERSON: "Can I have an orange?"
HOST: "He can't. He's homeless."
LIMBAUGH: "Huh?"
HOST: "He's HOME-less."
LIMBAUGH: [long pause] "I don't get it."
HOST: "Mmm…I'm going to have to disqualify you. Sorry, Rush."
ELDERLY PERSON: "I have scurvy."

HOST: "Maybe our reigning champion can help you out. Helie, are you ready?"
BALLOON: "EEE-EEE."
HOST: "Go!"
ELDERLY PERSON: "My stomach is eating itself."
BALLOON: " EEE-EEE."
ELDERLY PERSON: "Really? You will?
BALLOON: " EEE-EEE."
ELDERLY PERSON: "Thank you! He's going to buy me dinner."
BALLOON: " EEE-EEE."
ELDERLY PERSON: "You love me?
BALLOON: " EEE-EEE."
ELDERLY PERSON: "[tears up] Oh! You want to give me a hug! Thank you! It's been so long.
BALLOON: " EEE-EEE."

ELDERLY PERSON shuffles over to balloon. When he grasps the balloon for a hug, it attacks the elderly man, beating him senseless.

ELDERLY PERSON: "AHH! AHH!"

HOST: "[horrified] Helie. You…killed him. In cold blood. You just killed him…and beat out O'Reilly time with 33 sec.! Helium Balloon retains his crown! This has been the 2005 American Gas Bag Competition. Good night!

...

It must have been a bad day for tuna when they found out someone named them Chicken of the Sea.

"They're calling us what? Shit. People love chicken."

Cause I like easy jokes...

Redskins Owner Ordered Removal of Trees
Where's the Lorax when you need him?

Lawyers: BTK suspect claims depression
Well, yeah. He got caught.

More Mercury Found at Cardozo
D.C. public schools are so dysfunctional that even their problems are screwed up. One week they're cleaning mercury off the floor, the next week Godzilla is eating the music department...

Happy Birthday Evan

This is also a good time for me to tell you about his interesting blog. Anyone want to get an LED belt buckle?

Oh, The Commercials I See!

Saw this one last night. An elderly couple was laughing at a family barbeque. The camera pulled back to reveal...a pearl necklace in a bucket of barbeque sauce.

VO: "We didn't dip these pearls into barbeque sauce to show Fixodent's amazing cleaning power. And we didn't dip them in barbeque sauce to show how shiny Fixodent will make your teeth."

I never did find out just why did those crazy cats at Fixodent tore their grandmother's pearls off her neck and brought them to a Texas barbeque. I suspect the answer involves drugs and that the pearls were laughing at them. I can only guess because, at that very moment, I involuntarily muted the TV, part of my body's defensive reaction from keeping the rest of my now-liquefied brain from dripping out of my ear.

But I was outwitted. When it comes to advertisements, reading is a disability. The fine print on the bottom of the screen:

"Pearls made out of denture material".

So...they're not pearls. Gotcha. Kind of like "Pearls made of pig ears" or "Pearls made out of rainbows."

The nice thing about fine print in ads for products for the elderly is that most of your target audience can't read it. If I were the government, I'd start making announcements to the elderly in the fine print of Fixodent commercials.

"Social Security benefits will be cut by 20% for anyone who does not complain by Tuesday. This notice required by law. Law does not state where notice has to be said. Ha ha. Stupid law."

Sketch: Bumper Sticker Madness

CHARACTERS

J.B. (Boss)
IDEA MAN 1
IDEA MAN 2

Boss walks in.

J.B.: We got a problem. Our bumper stickers sales are flat. The company is going broke and we haven't had a hit in over a year.

IDEA MAN 1: But we've come up with plenty of great ideas.

IDEA MAN 2: Yeah. "My other car is also a car".

IDEA MAN 1: "Honk if you love honking".

IDEA MAN 2: "ARRRRRRRRRRRRGH!"

J.B.: Especially "ARRRRRRRRRGH!" Who wants to put "ARRRRRRRRRRGH!" on their car?

IDEA MAN 2: Pirates?

J.B.: There are no pirates! That's the point. We're targeting too narrow markets. We need to generate some ideas for a really large group.

IDEA MAN 1: The blind.

J.B.: Do I need to tell you all the ways that idea is dumb?

IDEA MAN 1: Hold on, J.B. Hear me out. We'll put an arrow on the bumper sticker in Braille so they'll know which way to stick it on their cars.

J.B.: Next.

IDEA MAN 2: I got it. Street ladies.

J.B.: No.

IDEA MAN 2: But--

J.B.: No! We're not doing a bumper sticker on street ladies.

IDEA MAN 2: But--

J.B.: No!

IDEA MAN 2: [pause, then rushed out] "If you can read this you're not in the backseat".

J.B.: Jesus Fucking Christ! We're going to be bankrupt in a month. We need to find the largest market possible. Think, people!

IDEA MAN 1: Jesus! Religion. We've never done a bumper about religion before.

J.B.: Yes. Yes! Good idea. Okay, let's think. What's a catchy bumper sticker that a religious person would buy?

IDEA MAN 1: "God Bless America".

J.B.: That's nice, but it's been done before.

IDEA MAN 1: No no no no. [takes out poster board + magic marker. Writes away from audience, then lifts us poster board.] "God Bless America".

J.B.: That's your twist?

IDEA MAN 1: Hear me out. It puts the focus on who's blessing America. [pretends to be confused customer] "Who's blessing America? The bus driver? Grandma? I don't know. Hey, what's this? God Bless America. Oh! Now I get it. I'll take one."

IDEA MAN 2: I'll take five.

IDEA MAN 1: I'll take ten!

J.B.: Underlining God isn't going to help us break into a new market.

IDEA MAN 1: But--

IDEA MAN 2: He's right. We need something bigger. To go for the gold. To...

[takes poster board, scribbles like he is making a lot of revisions.]

IDEA MAN 2: Call up the printing press and tell 'em to slap it on. "God Bless America". We get the religious audience and the patriotic audience.

J.B.: That just went from dumb to confusing.

IDEA MAN 1: J.B., I hear you loud and clear. Hold on.

[takes poster board, scribbles a long time, like he is making a paragraph-worth of revisions.]

IDEA MAN 1: "God Bless America." "What's God doing to America? Is he hitting it? Is he shaking it? No, he's blessing America. Because he's God, and he's the best. I'll take 10."

IDEA MAN 2: I'll take 20.

IDEA MAN 1: I'll sell myself into prostitution to buy one.

J.B.: Look, both of you. Drop it. We need to think of a different tack.

A few moments of silence while they try to think of a solution.

IDEA MAN 2: I got it.

[takes poster board, scribbles for a few moments]

IDEA MAN 2: "God Bless America, Motherfuckers".

J.B.: Time to call it quits. You did two enough for today. Go home. I'll think of something myself.

IDEA MAN 2: What's wrong with "God Bless America, Motherfuckers"?

J.B.: Go.

IDEA MAN 1 + 2 hesitantly get up to leave.

IDEA MAN 1: God Bless America, ass slappers?

J.B.: Out!

IDEA MAN 2: God Bless America, ball jigglers?

J.B.: Go home!

IDEA MAN 1 + 2 leave. Offstage: "Ring-ring." J.B. picks up phone.

J.B.: Hello, sir. Yes, I have something I think you'll like. " God Bless America, Motherfuckers." Thank you, sir. I think it's going to be a winner too. Oh, no. I thought of it myself.

Notes I Didn't Leave My Dog Walking Clients, #1

"Daisy and I ran into her friend, Thunder. They played for several mintues, getting frisky a few times, if you know what I mean. If you don't know what I mean, THUNDER WAS HUMPING DAISY."

From the Instant Comedy Division of Pancake City

Headlines!

Judge finds spouse, mom dead at Ill. home
Is this a news story or the slug line for a upcoming movie? "They took his family. They took his friends. Now it's time for him to administer justice...from the Court of Ass Kicking. Sean Connery is: The Judge.

Telecom Mogul Held in Tax Case
Suspect held in custody; still only gets one phone call.

DeLay PAC Case Goes to Trial
DeLay's delays fail to delay: Packs of PAC lawyers descend on court.

AARP Pitches for Older Workers
It's nice to know the Department of Obvious is still working overtime.

Cardinal Says Pope Spoke in Two Languages
Is this the new standard for judging one's health? Are 80% of Americans considered to be on life support? "Get a defilibrator in here! This man thinks "oui" has to do with the toilet."