Will & Shakespeare Make A Porno

Man, fetish-wear just keeps getting weirder and weirder.


Parody Shakespearean Porn Titles:

• A Midsummer Night's Cream
• The Caning of the Shrew
• Romeo & Juliet & Brenda & Julie
• Titus Androgynous
  
• The Sex Merchant of Venice Beach
• As You Like It (That one's alright on its own.)
• Much Ado About My Thing
• O-Face Thello
• Henry's Part 4

Surprisingly, it's pretty hard to force a "porking" joke into Hamlet. Good thing I always carry lube.

Words My Yiddish Grandfather Never Managed to Say Correctly

Early this morning my grandfather passed away peacefully in his sleep. He was 83, and up until Alzheimer's slowly shut him down over the last five years or so, he was one of the most ridiculus characters I have ever encountered outside a Michael Chabon novel.

That said, in tribute her is a list of

Words My Yiddish Grandfather Never Managed to Say Correctly:

• 
  "Ninjer"
  
  
  
• 
  "Robutt"
  
  
• 
  "FaJeeta?"
  

Things Dumber Than Prop 8 Californians Have Allowed

I decided "Leaving a giant collapsed sign half-repaired because you're lazy" wasn't actually very dumb. Just really, really lazy.

Things Dumber Than Prop 8 Californians Have Allowed:

• The election of Arnold Schwarzenegger to the office of governor
• For that matter, the election of multiple-monkey movies actor Ronald Regan to the office of governor.
• "Limited" use of medicinal marijuana
• Naming tar pits a natural preserve
• The Matrix sequels
• The Hills
• Jews owning studios
• The Hills again, because it's that terrible
  

On Zedonks

Christ Wire, sadly not a religiously-themed anti-terrorism television series, has decided that the recent birth of a donkey-zebra hybrid in Georgia is part of a Godless agenda pushing the lie that is evolution.









Problems I Have With This:

• Zedonks and Zonkeys have existed for years. Why wait until now to tear down the lies?
• Zonkeys occur naturally wherever zebras and donkeys exist in close proximity. Clearly, the Devil has been undermining the Word of the Bible himself, utilizing the false truth called 'natural' selection.
• Christ Wire claims this will inevitably lead to demands for the legalization of interspecies marriage and mating, as well as other "perverted" unions. Corret me if I'm wrong, but I thought it was those "other" unions that led to interspecies marriage with dogs and ducks. If we're ever going to tear down the secular humanists, we're going to have to put up a united front, at least until everyone we disagree with has been thoroughly eradicated.
• The Word of God is fact because the Bible says so. Some people don't understand this, and we'll burn convert them with time, but until them we should at least pretend to use their own logic to tear them down. We shouldn't have to condescend to their level, but you can't reason reasonably with the unreasonable.
• This particular abomination is so adorable it must be especially evil.
  

On Bambi

"They sent me home from school because I keep sticking my hand down there!"



Back before the age of GPS and MapQuest, my mother had a simple rule for giving a driver directions: "Right" exclusively means the opposite of "left;" use "correct" or "yes" for an affirmative.

"So I make a left up here?"
"Right."
"Right?"
"Right, left."
"Right, then left?"
"No, just left."
"That's what I said!"
"Right."

I learned a new trick, recently. Apparently, when you see a deer in the road you're not supposed to yell out, "Deer," because some people will just think you love them and are trying to start a conversation by calling them "dear." What fools.

How should you inform your driver that there is a large, impala in the middle of the road (the quadrupedal kind, not the Chevy)?

You say, "Bambi."

Then they'll just think there's an aging stripper in their headlights.

The Drunk Bowl

War writ small, the manliest sport ever. NOW JAZZ HANDS!


I had an idea the other day.

It's one of those ideas that sounds terrible, but if done on the grandest of scales would be undeniably watchable.

I think as a run-up to, or season's end after the Super Bowl or the Rose Bowl or Pro Bowl or whatever other bowls the NFL has to offer, their should be a Drunk Bowl.

Now, hear me out. This wouldn't be a game of motley hobos playing like a slowed-down version of the XFL. Nor would it be some annoying drunk olympics, though we have enough of those each year that we might as well televise one and set some basic events. No, what I want to see is is two teams of talented, professional football players engaging in a competitive game in which every player is legally drunk.

Forget Gatorade, I want to see both sidelines stocked with multiple kegs. I want cheerleaders playing Flip Cup. I want the halftime show to include all the players eating chicken wings and watching a different football game on the Jumbo-Tron.

I doubt any current players would sign off on such a hazardous and potentially career-ending event as drunken pro ball, but I'm sure there are enough washed-up third-stringers and sad retirees willingly to destroy their knees for one last chance at the kind of fat paycheck Rogain and "Tough Actin'" Tanactin just can't offer them.

Of Scale and Strata

I've been trying to figure out the crazy, rock-paper-scissors-like rules for who beats who when it comes to internet networking.

Clearly the Twitterverse encompasses the most area, being comprised of every opinion everyone has all the time, plus what they had for lunch.

Beneath that lies the Blogosphere, full of satellite sites and other rants that are longer and far less interesting.

Then there's YouTube, because it's just you, and Facebook because it doesn't even have limbs or a torso to work with.

I was trying to place print media somewhere in there, but the only mental image I could conjure up was a coffin buried beneath YouTube's feet.