My Never-Ending New Jersey Nightmare

Why Shoot a Load Into Someone You Love, When You Can Shoot a Long-Range Katyusha Rocket at Someone You Hate? Origins of the Middle East Crisis, Part I

2006-08-19T09:40:00.000-07:00

Jews and Arabs – our story is as gentle and heartwarming a tale as a 70’s Scorcese flick.

It goes like this…We all supposedly harken back to this guy Abraham who lived around 1500 to 2000 BCE. And it was just Abraham back then. One name celebrity; like Bono, only not as old.

So, Abraham is in his mid-70's, putzing around in what's now Syria and Turkey, when he poses a profound question to the polytheistic, local yokels: “Why are you wasting your time worshipping many gods - these oversized inanimate objects - when you could be wasting your time worshipping one god who is invisible and doesn’t take up nearly as much valuable hut space?”

And their response was, “Shut up, you fucking Jew.” Because as far back as the Arab-Israeli conflict goes, rubes hating Jews goes back even further.

Regression of Man

2006-08-19T09:13:00.000-07:00

My braces just came off, tonsils removed, acne's growing worse, I masturbate a lot, and my heart flutters with excitement whenever I get my hands on a new Justice League comic book.

Strange for a 32 year old, you say? Not really - because at 16, I was reading the Wall Street Journal, shopping at Today's Man, and sipping vodka martinis to take the edge off a hard day.

My ass points in only one direction, people, and that's backwards.

Today, I'm busy researching colleges and sorting out my first choices from my "safeties."

Needless to say, the old folks are bursting with tepid pride.

You know what keeps me going? Picturing the day they'll finally be able to tear off the "My Son is Dead to Me" sticker from the back windshield of the Grand Marquis...and replace it with a sticker from a no-name school known only for its lax admissions standards.

2006-08-15T23:16:00.000-07:00

Larry David Earth to America

2006-08-13T16:59:00.000-07:00

Dave visits Taco Bell

2006-08-13T16:50:00.000-07:00

Letterman at Mcdonald's

2006-08-08T22:00:00.000-07:00

If anyone knows of anything in this link to be untrue, I would love to hear it.

http://www.imninalu.net/myths-pals.htm

2006-08-08T21:28:00.000-07:00

This is a pretty good, unbiased look at the history of the middle east crisis.

http://www.pbs.org/pov/pov2001/promises/timeline2.html

2006-08-08T21:15:00.000-07:00

Facts: Israel & Jerusalem

2006-08-08T21:11:00.000-07:00

The History of the Middle East...

2006-07-30T20:53:00.000-07:00

Top Ten Favorite George W. Bush Moments

Prozac Nation and Mom

2006-07-01T20:14:00.000-07:00

So I called my mother the other night.

It started out okay. We began talking about a very difficult time in my life; a sort of Prozac Nation period I had experienced during my stay at The College of New Jersey.

Although I could hear the TV in the background, I felt for the first time she was really listening. I remember thinking, "Wow, I'm opening up, conveying my deepest regret for what I had failed to accomplish, and there's my mom on the other end of the line - being there for me when I needed it most. We're making progress!"

But then she told me she didn’t feel like getting into it because, “zee Vorld Cup eez on and Germany and Argentina vent into overtime. Oh, so exciting! Okay, I go.”

"How about this, mom - I’m handing you a red card for that foul and an ejection from the World Cup Finals of parents who'll get to see their future grandkids.

"What's that, ma? You say dad's having an episode and you need to talk to someone? I'm sorry, there's too much excitement going on here with the 2006 Budweiser World Series of Darts on ESPN2. Try me during half-time. What?!?!? You're hiding in the bathroom and he's attempting to bash down the door with an axe? What an incorrigible scamp, that one! Think you can hold on just a little while longer? Cuz' it's the seventh set and I think Raymond van Barneveld is gonna hit double nines to take it. Try to squeeze through the window before he's able to breach. Cheryl sends her regards. Call me later. Let me know what happens. Love you..."

Excerpt From My Original Speech For My Sister's Wedding

2006-06-19T19:36:00.000-07:00

...In closing, I know there a lot of Russians here today, so that’s why I’d like to say something to all of you in Spanish. Como se llama, bonita, mi casa, su casa, Shakira, Shakira.

Jesus, you Ashkinaze Jews sure clean up nice. Good job on that. Now, let's get out there and give our people a good name every day of the week. I thank you, my sweet, sweet people of Abraham. Mazel Tov!

My Never-Ending Family Nightmare

2006-06-15T19:42:00.000-07:00

I spent my one day off drowning my fat, Jew face in a piranha fish tank while pouring battery acid on my testicles for six minutes at a time, and then alternating.

Of course, that’s not really what happened, because what I actually did do was about ten billion times more painful!!! I went to a family reunion. What it should be called is a less desirable alternative to being shot by a death squad.

The ugliness went down at my granny’s 86-year old boy toy Mischa’s pad in Brooklyn. The intent was to see my grandmother, but, of course, the rest of the family had to show their scary mugs, too.

A couple of days earlier, I had been wavering on making the trip to see my BK babooshka, but my dad made sure to jam some fresh excitement up my ass by screaming out, “When are you gonna visit her? When she’s in a goddamn casket?”

One of the greatest unsolved mysteries of my generation is how this man avoided a career as an inspirational speaker and became a limo driver instead.

So, now I’m sitting right next to my grandmother at the dinner table, in this tiny, garishly decorated, Brighton Beach apartment. Mischa is in the kitchen, not too far away.

I ask, “How are things with you and Mischa?”

She leans in and whispers, “Oy, what can I tell you?”

Then, for some reason, she instantly goes from a whisper to mega-phone volume:

“I DON’T WANT HIM TO HEAR ME, BUT…”

(No, of course not, backwards-volume-control-grandma)

“EVERY DAY I WAKE UP, I DREAM OF LEAVING HIM. WHAT THE HELL DO I NEED HIM FOR? TO COOK AND CLEAN? BLECHHH!”

Hey, gran – just a tad curious, here – but why are you telling me this and, uh...why are you whispering the wrong fucking parts?!?!?!

My sister and I suggest she bring it down a notch to 11. She paused and said, “Oh, yeah… that little schmendrick - I know what he's up to with all that good hearing, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.”

After wrapping up her inexplicable lapse into hysteria, she tore into my sister with her usual passive-aggressive questioning routine.

Here are just a few examples of her insults disguised as questions:
1. Do you wear lipstick ever? You know, when you want to look good?
2. Did you ask to get you hair cut that way? You wear it like that to work and no one ever says anything?

And then, right before my dad got up to make a toast...

3. So you just give it up to your boyfriend every night, huh - even though he’s not thinking about marrying you? Okay, if that’s good enough for you....

My dad shot me a dirty look as I then toasted, “To getting laid without expectations!”

In the midst of all this, my dad managed to call my sister an enemy of the state, my mom asked twice if my testicle lump (I found a lump recently) was soft or hard, and 20 brain-frying minutes were spent discussing how my sister obtains coffee for work and how much she pays for it.

Before I left, my dad gave me directions home that included handy instructions like: don’t hit the pedestrians - they cross the street sometimes – you’ll want to look out for that; watch out for people crossing the street – you don’t want to hit them; and, remember, you should avoid hitting the other cars, but also don’t forget about not hitting the people trying to cross the street.” This is from a man who has knocked over fifteen pedestrians.

Later that day, my mom told me privately, “Your dad...he's not like the others. I kiss my desk when I go to work. I kiss the desk, the lamp, the chair..."

I came home and did the same.

Happy Beersday!

2006-06-13T11:37:00.000-07:00

Today's my dad's birthday (or "beersday," as per the Russian pronunciation). I have no idea what to get him. What do you get an angry immigrant who doesn't speak English, reeks of garlic, and is supremely disappointed in you? Cheap cologne?

Russians Don't Play Well With Others

2006-06-02T00:19:00.000-07:00

My Russian dad loves to eat garlic. He swears by its health benefits so, of course, he has to munch on about 12 fucking raw cloves a day like he's nervously preparing to vanquish Dracula once and for all. His breath is so god awful I'm sure it could make even Carnie Wilson lose her appetite for a day.

Yet, like most people with ass breath, he doesn't have the slightest clue as to the damage he's inflicting. The man loves to talk and one of his favorite people to talk to is my sister's boyfriend, Ari.

Now Ari is the sweetest, happy-go-lucky, good-natured, skippin'-and-a-strollin' through life kind of guy you'll ever meet. Everything seems even-keel and peachy keen in Ariland. Until the mad Russian dad comes crashing in with the wild, offensive odors and the endless supply of inane, head-pulverizing topics.

RD: AAAAAAArrrriiii (he enjoys stretching out certain words for their maximum grating effect), did you ever think to learn Russsiiiiaaaaan? Noooooooooooo? Whyyyyyyyy, noottttt?

Ari (trying to keep his eyes from tearing and his knees from buckling under the olifactory punishment being blasted in his face): Oh, I try.

RD: Youuuuuuu trrrrrrrry? Whhhhhhyyyy noooottttt dooooo? (like he’s now the Miyagi of fucking Russian-as-a-second-language while he hasn’t even come close to mastering English! He’ll say things to me like, “Goodbye, Jimmy. No double coupons for you!” What the fuck does that mean?!?!? Who the hell is Jimmy?!?!? I’m not Jimmy! Who’s Jimmy?)

Ari: Okay, I’ll do. I’ll do.

Later, in the car with my dad driving...

RD: WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!?!?!!!!!!

Ari: Huh?

RD: I said, “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!?!?!

Ari (looking a little terrified now): What’s that? You’re driving us to the restaurant, right?

RD: NO!!!!

Ari: We're not going to the restaurant?

RD: NO!!!! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!?!?!

Allan: I think he means he wants you to start learning Russian now and translate, “Where are you going?”

Ari: Oh. Heh. Right.

Sometime even later that evening, Ari wises up and we go in separate cars....but my dad gives him a walkie-talkie and CB unit he just happened to bring with him. Why? So he can radio him in and continue to torture him.

RD: Aaaaarrrriiii, Coooommeee innnnnn.

Ari (cool and calm exterior slowly cracking): Yes.

RD: Yooouuuu knnnooowwww, the speed limit says 55 miles per hour. You are going 57 miles per hour. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Ari: Thank you, Mr. Finn. I'll slow down.

RD: WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!!?!??

Ari: What?!?!? What's wrong?!?! Oh, right. Heh, heh. I'll get it one of these days, Mr. Finn.

RD: Goodbye, Jimmy!

After spending just two days with my dad, Ari looked like Jimmy Carter after four years of being in office – weak, broken, and aged far beyond his years.

Excerpt from a conversation a while back...

2006-06-01T16:49:00.000-07:00

Me: I went to the Joker's Child on Saturday
Sis: yeah, ma told me
Sis: how was that? pick up any good comic books?
Me: all of a sudden, someone walks up behind me and whacks me behind the ear
Sis: no!
Me: I turned around, ready to fight
Me: and it was Dad
Sis: at least he didn't trip you
Me: yeah, he likes that too
Sis: LOL
Me: I was so out of it - I thought they were in there shopping for comics, too
Sis: that's just too funny....
Me: they saw me walking in and followed
Me: they came back to the condo to check out the paint job and other decorating we've done
Me: dad started taking mental notes right away as to what we've done wrong so far
Sis: at least they were mental
Sis: can he ever be happy for people?
Me: not for long
Me: he then went into one of his big, mind-numbing, sometimes incomprehensible lectures
Sis: what now?
Me: and mom noticed that I was tired and wanted them to leave already
Me: so she said, "C'mon. We go"
Sis: that's cool how she notices that
Me: and dad said, "YOU GO TAKE ANOTHER SHIT! I TALKING!!!"
Me: moments after she had just come out of the bathroom

Too Optimistic, Too Pessimistic

2006-06-01T16:20:00.000-07:00

Opinions – people are full of them. They’re the only things anyone’s ever anxious to share with you (outside of Ebola, the Marburg Virus, and Hep-A through Tommy Lee).

What ever happened to the days when we didn’t have to be subjected to everyone’s thoughts and feelings; when it was understood your life holds such little significance that expressing an opinion is as pointless an exercise as…well…as jogging by the “stars” on VH1’s Celebrity Fit Club. Now, that's being a tad too optimistic. You’re not running toward any more sitcoms or record deals people, so relax (I’m talking to you, Jeff Conaway and Young MC).

Relax, sit back and enjoy this little piece I call, “Too Optimistic, Too Pessimistic.”

Too Optimistic
This glass is half full with delicious, nutritious water!!! Thank you for the good times H20!!!

Too Pessimistic
This glass is half full...with water containing harmful levels of lead and other contaminants that will slowly give me brain cancer and eventually kill me. Great, now I must make do without fluids.

Too Optimistic
With the president’s brilliant plans for social security and prescription drug coverage, I don’t have to worry about saving for my retirement any more!!!

Too Pessimistic
With the president’s brilliant foreign policy, I don’t have to worry about living to retirement!

Too Optimistic
The writers of Lost will soon reveal a logical explanation for everything that’s happened on the island.

Too Pessimistic
The writers have been praying the show will get cancelled right before they’re actually expected to come up with one.

Too Optimistic
If we’re ever hit with a Category 5 hurricane again, not to worry – our government has it all under control now.

Too Pessimistic
After the Katrina fiasco, I am never taking off my inflatable vest and life preserver...and I live in Jersey.

Too Optimistic
The way I look, it’s only a matter of time before I meet that special someone.

Too Pessimistic
The way I look, it’s only a matter of time before someone sees how desperate I am and uses it to take compromising photos of me to share with his friends.

You Give Love A Bad Name

2006-05-28T22:02:00.000-07:00

If you let them, women will drag you to some off-the-charts gay movies, functions, concerts...you name it. My girlfriend loves Bon Jovi. Not just the music, but like a lot of women, the stud behind the music. She gets creamy for him, I stay pretty dry. None of this matters, however, as I get to go with her to all their Jersey concerts.

Here’s something I’ve learned: these concerts are one big thrill after another, especially if you’re heavily into the “Jovi ass.” I say this because you will get to see this way-too-smiley rock star, vigorously bounce (which is probably where the name for the album and tour came from) that thing in your face 500 times in two-and-a-half hours – kinda like what I imagine early Cro Magon gays must have done to express the need to have their asses invaded because language had not been invented yet. I could’ve sworn the crowd of mostly drooling Jersey broads cheered more for his live wire tuchas act than any of the crap coming through the speakers -- and that's including their big 80’s hits.

As if that wasn’t already gayer than the entire fall lineup on Bravo, my girlfriend left to buy us some booze to help get me through it all, and came back with a drink called...the Fruitatini. But she didn’t like the Fruitatini, which meant that now I’m holding the Fruitatini along with the “fruitariffic” umbrellas and more tropical fruit decorations than a fucking Carmen Miranda hat. There were satellites stationed far above the earth’s atmosphere picking up on our gay signals.

Oh, it got better because soon after I was handed my Fruitatini, it started raining. Out came the panchos, which lucky for me, were bright, pastel blue. So there I am, sipping on my Fruitatini in my 200-kilowatt, flaming blue pancho watching Bon Jovi giving me so much ass action it looked like “Born To Be My Baby” was coming straight out of his balloon knot. I looked so gay, the guys from Queer Eye For The Straight Guy came out from backstage and asked me to tone it down a little. I think I'm going to write a song and call it, "Wanted Dead or Alive: The Search for Allan's Once Proud Testicles." You give love a bad name, Bon Jovi, yes, you do.

Fluff vs. Reality

2006-05-26T13:21:00.000-07:00

One of the worst things about the internet is that it has made no-talent nitwits believe their inane thoughts on love qualify as profound poetry which must be shared with the masses.

I'm still trying to figure out if the person who wrote the following piece is half a moron or a complete idiot (the awful grammar makes me think it's the latter).

Here's her awful, sappy bullshit with my dose of reality injected in bold.

1. When a girl misses u, she's afraid to see how your new girl looks, she's dreading the fact that ur not hers any more...because she was hoping to get even fatter and stop taking regular showers. You threw a wrench into her aspirations to turn into a completely immobile sloth.

2. When u break a girls heart, she still feels it when bumping heads 3 years later...Running into you 3 years later wasn't a coincidence. She's probably tapped your phone and placed a hidden G.P.S. device under your car. Make sure everyone knows that if you show up murdered, she should be the prime suspect.

And bumping heads? Where would her head bump into yours? Did you both happen to be escaping through a building's air ducts at the same time? What kind of tumor headed circus freak were you dating, anyway?

3. When a girl just stares deep into your eyes, she's HOPING that your hers and only hers ( it shows how much she cares: eyes never lie)...Yeah, her eyes never lie, but her mouth sure does. That's why she keeps her trap shut and stares - she's afraid she'll contradict some bullshit story she told you 3 weeks ago; like the one about how, while you were busy working, her gay friend Mike slept on the couch at your vacation house and spilled clam chowder on your brand new carpet. Turns out it was really your best friend Sal who fucked her silly and the stains on the carpet weren't soup related.

That's another reason why she's looking so deeply into your eyes; she wants to see if you're onto her.

4. When a girl is quiet, millions of things are running through her mind....like if you have a fat life insurance policy, and, if so, how can she make your death look like an accident? Should she pour bleach into your coffee or push you off a cliff next time you go hiking? And what about an alibi? Will her sister vouch for her? What about Sal? She's not kidding when she says millions of things are running through her mind.

5. When a girl is not arguing,she is thinking deeply....about her next date with Sal.

6. When a girl looks at you with eyes full of questions, she is wondering how long you will be around....Don't worry. It won't be long now. She's already picked out a dress for the funeral.

7. When a girl answers, "I'm fine, " after a few seconds, she is not at all fine....She was never fine. Nothing you say or do will ever change that, except going to the pharmacy and refilling her prescriptions.

8. When a girl stares at you, she is wondering why you are so wonderful....because you're at least 5 points hotter than she is. She probably thinks you want her money and is wondering how to bring up the idea of a pre-nup.

9. When a girl lays her head on your chest, she is wishing for you to be hers forever....What a blind, deaf, dumb, clingy, inexperienced, desperate mess this must be to want someone like you for eternity.

10. When a girl calls you everyday,she is seeking for your attention....She doesn't trust you and wants to make the most out of her free cell phone minutes.

11. When a girl wants to see you everyday, she wants to be pampered....She's a money whore who'll dump you in 2 year, leaving you bankrupt and bitter for life.

12. When a girl says, "I'll love you forever, "she means it....with her retarded concept of time, forever is about a month until someone with a nicer car or bigger dick comes along.

13. When a girl says that she can't live without you, she has made up her mind that you are her future....Yeah, you're the future - just like they said laser discs were the future in 1992. Glad I didn't jump on that mistake.

14. When a girl says, "I miss you," no one in this world can miss you more than that....If your dog could pick up the phone and call, you'd be hearing, "I miss you," more than your girlfriend could ever fathom. So, which bitch do you think misses you more?

And I let's not forget your bookie, your dealer and all those strippers you've been putting through college. I bet they get pretty heartsick for you, too.

2006-05-16T09:11:00.000-07:00

My Utopia, Part 1: Scare Up Some Abortions

Since you’re all dying to know, I’ll tell you where I stand on the issue. Abortion – I’m not pro-life and I’m not pro-choice. I’m pro-choosing wisely.

And by pro-choosing wisely, I mean save the good-looking, cutesy-wootsy tots and toss the ugly wretches to the gators. Admit it, no one likes to see a baby bruiser.

Even the craziest, nuttiest pro-lifer doesn't go ga-ga over misshapen genetic accidents. That’s why they use flawless, super-model-grade babies in their propaganda. They want you to go, “Awww…that little shmeg coulda' been a Gisele Bundchen.”

That's just smart marketing.

But what if the babies in question didn't exactly look like precious angels?

What if we took it a step further and they looked like little Hellboys with long, forked tails and giant horns?* I'm going to go out on a limb and say that probably wouldn't elicit the same response.

Christ, just the mere thought of the bizarre, human-goblin hybrid that thing could grow into ...

...would make a person's heart stop cold.

So God, if you're listening, or reading my blog, please create a plague where crazy looking, Hellboy-like mutants start forming in every Republican woman's womb in this country.**

Sounds crazy, but follow my line of thinking here...

After laying eyes at their inhuman sonogram outline, the first pro-life, Republican couple would finally (though begrudgingly) admit there is such a thing as an unwanted child and be forced to consider abortion as a viable option.

Pro-lifers would break off into different factions, putting even more outraged people with signs on the street.

With in-fighting raging on over which picket sign Jesus would wave fervently in front of a gynecologist's office, some pro-lifers would decide it's time to quit. They'd slink away from the sidewalk battlegrounds and back to their own unbearable lives, confused and defeated.

The remaining bunch would find themselves entertaining similar notions of spending time with their families and finding work. However, they'd quickly catch themselves, share a hearty laugh, dismiss that as crazy talk...and then go back to screaming, "Baby murderer!" at 14-year old girls.

Picking up on the scent of weakness, I imagine the pro-choice movement would then strike. They'd present an excellent case before the U.S. Supreme Court exposing the Republican majority as being selective on the abortion issue - ultimately leading to victory as Roe vs. Wade would get to stay on the books...and guys like me, who are big on the "pulling out" method, could finally have some peace of mind while we're doing it! Yay!

*A little aside here, God: if I may be so bold as to comment on your plague work - that smiting of the first born of every Egyptian over 3,000 years ago - I must say, not very pro-lifey of you.

My Utopia, Part 2: Everyone Stops Fucking

Brangelina must never be allowed to abort a single baby. These are lives that are precious. It's called pro-choosing wisely, people. Seriously, let's write this one into the Constitution.

If we truly want to help make this a better planet, we will cease all our fucking activities immediately, and present Brangelina, and only Brangelina, with the honor and responsibility of re-populating the earth.*

Our biggest problem right now is that there's not enough sexiness in the world. For the most part, we don't find Darfurians sexy nor Iraqis nor Sierra Leoneans nor...well, the list goes on and on; we either turn a blind eye to the severe problems of the people in those countries or find a way to attack them. This theory may explain why the U.S. has never directed a military campaign against Sweden nor ever ignored its bikini team.

See, when everyone’s sexy, there will be no more war, hunger, threat of a nuclear holocaust, human rights abuses, etc...

Once the evolved, second-generation Brangelineites begin overrunning the planet, life everywhere will take a turn for the better. These new beings will be capable of displaying a deeper, more genuine concern for others than we ever could - as the others should by then be mostly super hotties with pouty lips.

A fine piece of Brangelineite

If we stick to this plan, according to my estimates, Brangelineites should eclipse non-Brangelineites as the world's largest human populace by 2040.

Coincidentally enough, by this year, non-Brangelineites would probably face greater low self-esteem and insecurity issues than ever thought possible and voluntarily agree to never leave the house again. Our only glimpse into the outside world would come through window blinds, where we'd nervously eye a virtual paradise taking shape...

Non-Brangelineites viewing their changing world with a gnawing sense of dread

Eventually, our concerns would fade as the last of us would die off in the very houses that had become our self-imposed prisons; leaving the world a lovelier, safer place for our new master race replacements to enjoy...happily ever after!

The End.

*As in "fucking" activities - banging, shtupping, etc...and not "fucking activities". I have no beef with activities, per se.

It's been a while...

2005-11-26T19:57:00.001-08:00

I'm going to start a new site soon. If you're interested (for whatever unfathomable reason) you can send your e-mail address to me and I will forward you the new site's address when it is up and running!

2005-01-02T15:01:00.000-08:00

Shit. I’m 30 years old in 2005 – numbers that only hold meaning we assign them, sure – but it’s still enough to scare me over how I’ve managed to utterly misspend my youth.

The first 14 years of my life were spent stranded in the Bronx.

People are always shocked when I say that because I don’t exactly look like I belong with Fat Joe and the Terror Squad - which is true; Fat Joke and the Terrified Kosher Eating White Boy Squad was more like it.

The only fond memories I have of that time are when I got to see some bare butts. That was my thing: I’d exchange a homework assignment for a view of a cute girl’s ass. I could think of no other way to get any because, otherwise, the only reason anyone would ever walk up to me was to put me in a headlock and take my sneakers; even the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Those wonderful butts gave me a reason to keep hope alive.

After the Bronx, came white suburbia – Fair Lawn, New Jersey. This time there were more beatings and little, if any naked, sweet butt cheeks for me to admire.

Zagat Guide to Iraqi Restaurants (2005):

2004-12-07T20:15:00.000-08:00

The Pox On You and Your Children Bed and Breakfast fhkN
Get set to go on a "magic carpet ride" to the "funky" "old world" of religious brutality and intolerance. "Love the tabouleh, hate the infidels!" rave inflamed locals. “Suicidal” adventure seekers insist this "revitalized" BYOD (Bring Your Own Dynamite) is a "sometimes safe bet, sometimes not so much" for “to-die-for" meat on a spit served with generous portions of "deafening anti-semitic chanting." "Like a slice of heaven minus the 72 virgins!" Newly burrowed "hip" spider-hole rooms possess an "undeniable despot-friendly flair" but the "absence of cable, room service, and indoor plumbing" "leaves a lot to be desired" making a "repeat visit unlikely."

TGI Jihad! Eb$s
Those expecting an elegant décor are left unimpressed by the “wild and crazy" holy war themed bric-a-brac lining the few remaining walls, calling it a "Houlihans for fundamentalist hooligans." Some complain about the "suspicious" and "overly-attentive staff,” while others don't care for the "creeping sense of dread" caused by the "sudden donning of hoods" by employees, guests, and management.
"P.S. Try the baba ganoush."

The Go Ahead, Make My Fatwa Subs and Salads I~U#
In the mood for a taste of your own blood courtesy of the mighty prophet Mohammed along with "delightful" falafel platters? If so, you'll discover this "hot-spot for masked gunmen" on the lookout for American devils “eager to please.” "Charming," is the consensus among those reading from freshly prepared statements released to the public. Nervous newbies can be overheard exclaiming, "Honey, I don't think that's your biological clock that's ticking."
Kosher menu is "lacking."

When I Get My Hands On You, Why I'll !#$@%* On Your Fat Face Ice Cream Parlor JY&Oe%
"Hipster" patrons asking to remain anonymous due to fear of reprisals say it's "not for the faint of heart," but admit this destabilized region is "so non-chic, it's almost uber-chic." Daring singles note an abundance of "swarthy, martyr type locals" looking for "One last night stand? Maybe? No? What is it? The shaggy mustache? C'mon, it worked for Selleck in the 80's! Do you work out? I could tell by the way you fill out that burqa. C'mon! Don't run away! Damn it!" Ladies - expect to hear plenty of "that's not a bomb in my pants!"-level humor.

Selling Out Is a Hard Business

2004-12-03T19:58:00.000-08:00

As some of you may know, I recently got a new job. The hours are loooooooonnnnnnnggggg but the pay is good (this is a cliche I grew up dreading would come out of my mouth).

I now have a double identity - Corporate Tool by day, Rebel Comic-Wannabe by night. I've had to take this site undercover - some names may have been changed to protect the innocent and give carte blanche to the guilty.

Hopefully, I won't keep my stand-up waiting much longer...

Everyone should read this

2004-11-05T15:14:00.000-08:00

http://www.commondreams.org/views04/1104-36.htm

Lesson Plan

2004-11-04T17:10:00.000-08:00

Everyone’s talking about soul-searching. This isn’t a time to get in touch with your inner being – it’s a time to get in touch with your inner yahoo! Here’s a list of lessons for the next candidate.

Lesson 1
We’ve learned we have no choice but to embrace our country's all-powerful rednecks. Instead of being captured on film windsurfing or snowboarding (to impress the youth vote?!??), Kerry should have sought photo-ops in trailer parks, NASCAR events, and with CMT - not Hollywood - celebrities. Throw away the Ashton Kutchers with the ironic truck driver's hats, and bring in the Tim McGraws; he looks comfortable in a baseball cap and a cowboy hat – double threat! Think about buying a huge ranch with your daddy's oil money or, wife's Ketchup cash, flaunt a giant belt buckle, and learn to look wistfully into the distance when reporters ask you tough questions. This, for some reason, makes you look like an everyman.

Lesson 2
Never talk smart. Talking smart leads to saying stuff like "global test" and “I actually voted for the $87 billion before I voted against it” which, makes perfect sense to those who heard all those other smart words and great points that went along with it. But if you’re in the 99.99 percentile of people with no recognizable form of attention span left, your brain will process only two to twelve words tops. When it receives the rest, your brain will most likely go “la, la, la…wonder if there’s pie in the fridge…I haven’t used a crayon in years…wonder if that would still be fun…I think if I had to color something in now, I’d use a color pencil…unless I’m coloring in a pie…then I might use a crayon/color pencil combo…you know what cracks me up…those fake pies…I should buy one and see if my wife falls for it…American Pie, now that was a good movie…I wonder if Atkins lets you have pie…he lets you have bacon…one day, I just might go crazy and put bacon in a pie!…throw the kids and the wife all for a loop!...hey, did Kerry just finish talking?...I don’t like him…never seen him eat a pie…”

Lesson 2 A
Don’t you dare answer a question fully. Always be succinct – to a fault. Example:

“President Bush, we have a record deficit, the environment is in shambles, media consolidation due to you loosening restrictions has done serious harm to freedom of the press and freedom of speech, Halliburton admitted to overcharging taxpayers and receiving billions in no-bid contracts, your own advisors now concede Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11 or the war on terror, millions of people are losing jobs and working more for less than they were when you took office, our unilateral pre-emptive strike has alienated all our major allies and made the world and our country more dangerous than ever before, and most people feel that giving a huge tax cut to the wealthiest one percent during a war was an inexcusable sin. Why do you think we should give you another four years?

“Because I’m not a flip-flopper.”

Can you address any of the criticisms I just put forth?

“God bless the U.S. of A.!”

Okay, let’s forget what I said. I won’t even bring up the Enron scandal or your still questionable military service record. Just answer one question: What are we doing in Iraq?

“Need some wood?”

Lesson 3
Be presidential, but not so presidential that people feel you are over-qualified for the job. The key is to learn to hillbilly yourself up a little and look like you enjoy it. This was a trick Clinton knew all too well. And, hard as it may be to believe, the former president was still a factor. Conservatives have acted more like the bitter, unforgiving wife who had been cheated on than the actual wife herself! They purblindly threw Kerry-Edwards in the same Monica-gate sleaze bin. Bush, however, was smart enough to come up with a trick of his own – the ability to walk and talk like a man who needs to…almost has…is right there…but never quite achieves climax. This resolute policy of looking backed up and ready to blow ensures no one could ever accuse him of getting good, sloppy oral from a fat intern.

Lesson 4
People on both sides of the aisle have to take responsibility; red-staters and blue-staters alike must listen more to opposing viewpoints before reaching decisions. If you watch Fox News, listen to Rush Limbaugh, and read George F. Will, go see Uncovered, Outfoxed, Fahrenheit 9/11, Bush's Brain, the Hunting of the President, and Going Up River; listen to Air America Radio (or stream it on www.airamericaradio.com); and read Maureen Dowd (www.nytimes.com); and vice-versa. Had we all done our jobs as concerned American citizens, and not complacent partisans, we wouldn’t be voting against our interests and facing four more dangerous years of corruption and lies. And if the right plays dirty and mounts smear attacks against your decorated war hero status and calls you names, fight back hard. Bring up these cheap shots and shoot them down during the debates. Make sure to bring to light their hypocritical stance on morality and values at least as much as the fact that Mary Cheney enjoys good poontang.

Final Lesson
We must hug, kiss, and make love to the south. Give the south some foreplay, gently stroke its buttocks, ask about its day, listen to it's longwinded stories, and really care about its feelings. Would it kill us to notice how good it looks and pay it a compliment? Once we show the south how good they can have it, then we can ask for its hand in marriage.

The Numbers

2004-11-03T18:14:00.000-08:00

George Bush believes he has a mandate. The truth is only about one in five Americans came out in support of him (or rather, his carefully sculpted image) on Election Day. There are 235,387,673 people who chose to side with Kerry or didn't feel strongly enough to support either candidate.

I'm aware the numbers are still out in New Mexico, Iowa and Wisconsin. Even when taking the estimates of Bush votes in those three states into consideration, we're still left with 232 million potential voters who could, if engaged properly, oppose Bush's far-right agenda - only if we reach out to them and keep them informed without seeming condescending. Of course, that's the best case scenario - but it's a goal worth reaching for.

I live under hillbilly rule

2004-11-03T03:01:00.000-08:00

Poor John Kerry. He actually believed the youth of America would come out for him, so he wasted lots of valuable time courting them. Turns out college students could give a fuck. 17 percent last year, and 17 percent this year.* Thanks you dumb, apathetic asswipes. Go back to rolling joints with your Kerry bumper stickers and fucking with pollsters. Wasn't it cool when Springsteen and R.E.M. sang that song? I hope a large hammer falls on your head as you walk to class, listening to it on your ipod.

And you idiotic evangelical Christians who represented one-third of the popular vote - thank you for buying into a manufactured image of Bush as a mythological cowboy hero in the tradition of Reagan. Sorry, Kerry doesn't speak with a southern accent and looks awkward holding a gun. Apparently, we weren't electing a president - we were auditioning for Tombstone 2.

Had you switched off Fox News for a few minutes, and read a couple of boring, objective articles detailing some of your good ol' boy's policies, you may have noticed Bush doesn't really follow the "WWJD?" creed.

It makes my heart swell with pride that, in the end, none of the serious issues mattered to you. They were far too complicated to figure out. But figuring out that gay people professing their love to one another made you want to barf was easy. Nothing gets a hillbillie's ass off the couch like homophobia.

As love-filled Christians, you'd think you wouldn't be so quick to judge Kerry. Here are a few goodies from your man Jesus that you pissed on:
Judge not, so that you will not be judged (Matt. 7:1)
Seek it and you will find it (Matt. 7:7-11) (Air America Radio)
Beware of false prophets; by their fruits will you know them (Matt. 7:15-20)
Prohibition against oaths (Matt. 5:33-37) (Loyalty oath, anyone?)
Doing the will of God rather than invoking Jesus is what matters (Matt. 7:21-23)

So, I guess Christ's teachings didn't mean squat to you because you were so quick to believe Kerry's impressive military record was suspect, stem-cell research involved killing babies, and blood-thirsty Muslims were hiding in your cupboards. You bought right into Karl Rove's strategy; didn't even take all that much cajoling. One day, you'll realize he was the one looking down on you more than any yankee.

A lot of you didn't even read or watch anything. You just liked the way George and Laura look. Don't they make a nicer looking couple than Kerry and that Heinz bitch? If there is a God, you will be contemplating this as you're facing an army of insurgents in Fallujah.

Before I go dip my head in a vat of acid, I want to make sure I recognize all you concerned red state citizens whose biggest issue was terrorism and 9/11. I hope you feel safer on the farm than I do in New York.

*This is addressed to the 48.4 percent of the youth vote that stayed home. The 17 percent figure is the number of young voters out of all eligible voters nationwide. So, there is some hopeful good news - 8.7 percent more young voters came out this year than four years ago.

PLEASE VOTE

2004-09-26T19:49:00.000-07:00

MONDAY, OCTOBER 4th is your last day to register to vote! Please register and vote Kerry!!! New Jersey needs your help!

PRINT OUT THE REGISTRATION FORM HERE:
http://www.state.nj.us/lps/elections/voter_registration_04.pdf

IF YOU LIVE IN BERGEN COUNTY, SEND YOUR FORM HERE:

Superintendent of Elections
Ms. Patricia A. DiCostanzo
One Bergen County
Plaza Room
380 Hackensack, NJ 07601
201-336-6100
(FAX) 201-336-6111

OTHERWISE, VISIT THIS SITE FOR YOUR COUNTY’S MAILING ADDRESS: http://www.state.nj.us/lps/elections/loc_officials_doe.html#berg

Stripperpalooza!!!

2004-09-24T01:18:00.000-07:00

My best man (to protect his anonymity, I’ll call him Stubby “Stick in the Mud” Pillowfucker) threw me a bachelor party.

Being able to see the strippers beforehand was a must, so we only went on web sites that had pictures. Turns out these sites are complete scams. They put up photos of no-name models, most likely scanned from some old Playboys, and tell you that due to high demand, you may not get the girls you choose.

Well, we ended up getting two skanky Jersey chicks who didn't match any of the pictures I had seen. One had her body covered in tattoos (bad, ugly tattoos - like cartoon characters on her boobs bad), the other had nipple piercings and moles all over her back (better looking by virtue of looking less filthy).

Both were incredibly disappointed to have driven several hours from South Jersey to come to a bachelor party and find three sad sack Jews and one drunken gentile sitting in a small living room, eating Chex mix while neurotically worrying whether these strippers were coming to strip or actually rob and kill us. This was not any bachelor party they were used to.

Stubby was to host the party at his place, but when he heard the strippers may offer to shower with me, he reneged so as to avoid my man germs coming into contact with his tub. We were going to invite more guys, but then we thought, “Who needs more guys to enjoy desperate broads going wild?”

I had been looking forward to getting some wild, decent looking chicks to do a crazy lesbian show with sex toys, dancer hootenannies, and whatever else they could, ummm…”get their hands on” all week.

Unfortunately, when I got a gander at the girls, the shower fantasy, along with any other fantasy I may have had, went poof. At least we got to see some cool lezbo action (they ate each other out and gave lap dances to Stubby’s quasi-girlfriend – I’ll call her Juwanna Rickets), but otherwise they really didn't get a big "rise" out of me.

Getting comfortable proved difficult with the driver/bodyguard sitting right next to us, staring us down when he wasn't yawning - giving us all the evil eye for making him drive up here with the strippers for just $650. Normally, he would get lost in the crowd, but with the small, pathetic group we had, he really stuck out. And yes, $650 sounds like a lot - and it was for what I got out of it - but they usually take in a ton more in tips at typically bigger parties.

Back to the action...
The tattooed chick gave me a half-assed lap dance while I had nothing on but my boxer briefs. I think she noticed me trying to crane my neck around her to catch a view of the other girl, which must have made my dancer an even sadder crack whore.

They did some interesting tricks like putting a twenty dollar bill on the guys' faces and picking it up using only their vages. What’s this? Stripper magic? I thought for the grand finale they were going to pull a rabbit out of their cu...well, never mind.

They also had me do the standard lick the whip cream off the body thing. I felt like reaching for a bottle of 409 and a pumice stone for my tongue when I was done.

One moment I really didn't enjoy was being told to get on all fours for a spanking with Juwanna’s belt -- bare assed. Thanks for the fun, 80's child abuse flashback, ladies.

Then one stripper started shouting, "ALL RIGHT!!! WOOO HOOO!!! Who wants to give me a twenty to really get this party started!!!" -- acting as if we’re blowing the roof off this party and we can't hear her.

I felt like saying, "Hey, ho, turn it down a notch, okay? I'm right here. I'm two inches away from you in my fucking living room. We're surrounded by a socially awkward power pack who make the "Wild and Crazy Guys" from SNL actually look like wild and crazy guys. No one's blowing any roofs off. Blowing off soup would probably kill them."

That’s about all I can reveal…for now.

2004-08-24T08:57:00.000-07:00

You know something's wrong when the Russian is doing the shushing.

Hey, is that my hubcap?

2004-08-22T20:39:00.000-07:00

This is a magnified image of an embryo in a petri dish during the blastocyst stage (5-6 days old) when stem cells are culled. How ridiculous is it that we're treating these potentially life saving ESC's as living things? This glob of guck is what the argument is all about; this is what can ultimately eliminate pain and suffering for millions of people.

Fuzzy Stem Cell Math Brought Into Focus

2004-08-22T03:34:00.000-07:00

Bush is such a Christian fundamentalist pro-lifer that he doesn't believe in taking embryonic stem cells from a petri dish because that would be on par with murder?!?!? Huh?

Okay, before we jump into this debate, let’s clear something up first: EMBRYONIC STEM CELLS DO NOT COME FROM ABORTIONS, YOU FUCKING REPUBLICAN DOLTS!!!! Embryonic stem cells are created during fertility procedures at in-vitro fertilization clinics for couples who want babies but can't have them on their own. The ethical dilemma Bush is hiding behind doesn't exist.

These things come from a petri dish, not a womb. Scientists create a bunch of embryos and, if the couple doesn’t want any more kids, the clinic throws them out unless a consent form is signed allowing scientists to derive stem cells (and most wouldn’t grow to become babies even if they were implanted). But since Bush is holding back federal funding, giving them away to science right now wouldn't mean much for true progress anyway.

Hello? Let's repeat: Embryos not frozen for future use or donated to research facilities are destroyed. In essence, we're arguing over potential trash!

If not allowing some of these discarded leftover embryos to grow into humans is murder, then is Julio the janitor who picks up the garbage at 6 o’clock an accessory to the crime? What about Enrique the lab tech who just threw half his bratwurst sub into the bin? Life hater!

If Bush insists on going down this line of reasoning, wouldn't it make sense for him to support the execution of these cold-blooded refuse/bambino chuckers? I can hear Bush's pro-life base already, chanting, "Let’s fry them baby killers! Yeehaw!" with their standard non-existent sense of hypocrisy.

Whether they're marked for destruction or just sitting in the freezer, a precious life hangs in the balance, right? So, following Bush’s logic, women coming to the clinic for help in having one baby should have every single one of the tens of thousands of embryos existing in these IVF clinics forcibly implanted into their uteruses (or at least the ones typically produced in the effort to secure a single child for the couple). Pro-life kooks are actually demanding these embryos be put up for adoption, whether or not the parents wish to do so. Oooompha.

Don't let the calculated folksy rhetoric fool you. At the bottom of this demented media vortex of talking points, Fox shills, and media manipulation, Bush is unabashedly declaring, "Fuck you, you embryonic stem cell, you holder of possible cures for our planet's terrible diseases - all we're going to do with you is blast you up the vag because that's what God intended when he made you and your filthy fur burgers." (I'm paraphrasing here.)

"We know our God and our God is an all-knowing, all-loving God...who hates fags, recreational sex, abortions, and cures for cancer at the expense of pissing off the Christian Coalition."

There you have it. These are the propositions deduced from his postulates; this is what fuzzy math looks like when conducted by a religious fevered C student with a dangerous political agenda.

Fuck!!! What's wrong with me?!?!?

2004-08-18T23:14:00.000-07:00

Great. Just great. I did two shows tonight. I kicked ass on my first set, but totally fucked up my second performance. My friend Ilya showed up and, of course, saw the second set. Damn it! I hate it when friends see me screw up and make stupid, old, amateur hack mistakes that should be completely out of my system by now. My wording and pacing were off from the outset, making my jokes go from funny to crap in minutes. And then I had to make it worse by rushing through the rest of the material! At least I kicked ass on the first set, but it's always the last show you do that sticks with you.

I tell Ilya, who almost always never fails to say the wrong thing, how I did better on the show he hadn't seen, and he says, "Well, I'm sure you've caught some big fish in your day, too. Right?" Then I open up and reveal how I've been depressed lately (the last 29 years to be exact) and he responds by making some odd sounds - "AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH....UCCCCCCHHHHH....BLAAAAAHHH...." like he's having an orgasm while choking on a crouton or something. Still, I'm glad he came.

Some politics I've been meaning to get out of my system

2004-08-18T02:46:00.000-07:00

Laura Bush came out and called the issue of gay marriage shocking. You know what’s shocking? You’re a literacy promoting, former librarian and you married someone who can’t even spell the word librarian you stupid, asexual, fucking zombie, soccer mom, phony, pious bitch.

You’re really teaching us about the sanctity of marriage by marrying a fucking drinking and driving mongoloid who glommed off his parents for 30 years. Did you feel sanctimonious letting him shoot his whiskey-and-beer polluted retard load up your hole to give birth to those two little Damien daughters of yours? Yeah, that’s the finest example of sanctity I can think of.

Oh, and let’s not forget you running a stop sign and killing your boyfriend. You’re such a good Christian? How about before obeying the word of God, you learn to obey the laws of traffic, you deaf, dumb and blind power whore! You’re not Asian, so what’s your excuse? (Just kidding. I know plenty of Asians who are great drivers. Just not on roads with traffic lights and ummm…traffic.)

I know what you’re thinking - this offensive cretin deserves even harsher ridicule. I agree. Especially when you consider how busy she’s been campaigning against stem cell research, going against the judgment of noble laureate scientists; effectively standing in the way of potentially curing brain diseases, diabetes, heart disease, multiple sclerosis and cancer.

This quasi-human monstrosity is so screwed up by religion, she’s become scared of science! We’re not trying to create Frankenstein here, genius - we’re trying to cure fucking cancer!!! Next thing you know, she’ll come out against Galileo and in favor of the Inquisition. Yeah. Fuck Galileo and all those know-nothing smart ass scientists!!! Jesus is the only scientist I need. Cunt.

And you could cut it out with that sweet, every-mom, literacy promoting, world-nurturer bullshit – we can see right through you and that vacant, evil android from the future stare of yours that you are here to do nothing else but serve the dark lord Satan and the Republican demon hordes suckling at his teet.

Which brings me to one of Satan’s biggest teet suckers -- Dick Cheney. Dick Cheney has been getting away with a ton of dirty dealings that have made him a very rich man. And he knows he can get away with anything, because as soon as he gets a tough question delving into his crookedness, he starts talking and when that man starts talking, everyone in the room starts sleeping. No one knows what Dick Cheney is up to because no one can stay awake long enough to hear about it. He makes you long for the days when politics were colorful and seemingly easy to understand, with blue dresses, cigars and unwashed cumstains.

He’s the only man alive who has learned to use his complete lack of a personality as a lethal weapon. Remember, kids, don’t operate heavy machinery and listen to Dick Cheney. Especially if you are Dick Cheney because he’s been charged with two DUI’s and I don’t think it was because he was driving drunk. I think Cheney started falling asleep at the wheel as soon as he realized, “I’m Dick Cheney and I’m too fucking boring even for myself.”

But don’t let that charming fat cat persona fool you, Cheney is one evil, secretive, greedy fuck. He’s so evil he bought off his own openly-lesbo daughter with 100 grand a year for her to campaign for him and keep her cunt-lapping, dildo-happy mouth shut.
Again, I know – not harsh enough. (By the way, I'm all for that - the lapping and being happy part, I mean.)

This bloodless businessman fuck is old, fat, has had four heart attacks, went drunk driving twice and still won’t die. Here’s a note to Keith Richards: whatever your secret is, stop sharing it with Dick Cheney.

Forget for a second that Dick made a shitload through Halliburton deals with Moammar Gadhafi and Saddam Hussein, even when we had embargoes against them. How about the fact that Dick posted a 100 million dollar Halliburton accounting “irregularity?” Waiters and bartenders are being audited all around the country for not declaring all 50 dollars worth of their tips, and this asshole is getting away with a 100 million dollar accounting irregularity? Why is it that when poor people screw up their taxes, the government accuses them of lying but when rich people do it’s an irregularity?

Irregularity is a word you use to describe an infrequently appearing, difficult to expend bowel movement. You know what? “Irregularity,” come to think of it, is the perfect word to describe Dick Cheney – an infrequently appearing, difficult to expend piece of shit.

And I want to talk about this lawsuit that says he let his energy industry buddies like Enron’s Ken Lay, decide our national energy policies which, if true, put a lot of money into their grubby hands. I don’t know if you heard about this, but Dick is on trial and the trial is being heard by the Supreme Court. And one of the judges on the Supreme Court is Dick’s bestest fishing buddy in the whole wide world, Justice Antonin Scalia. Dick went fishing with a big whig oil tycoon and the judge who’s gonna be trying his case.

Let me repeat that: Dick went fishing with the judge who’s gonna be trying his case and they both say that’s not a conflict of interest. Why that’s no more a conflict of interest than letting NAMBLA preside over Michael Jackson’s trial. And while we’re at it, why don’t we throw out the jury in the Kobe Bryant case right now and replace them with the Lakers?

They’re counting on the populace being so stupid, bored, disgusted or confused by politics that very few will raise hell over a conflict of interest or any of these other issues. And you know what? They’re probably right.

The Best Show on Television!!!

2004-08-17T08:18:00.000-07:00

The Daily Show is brilliant and hysterical! Do yourself a favor and check it out. Or visit http://www.comedycentral.com/tv_shows/thedailyshowwithjonstewart/ for some great clips.

Whatzat?!?!? Fintan Patch's Taking His Crazy Comedy Ass to New York?!?!?

2004-08-12T22:57:00.000-07:00

Come see, hear, smell, taste and touch the magic crap of Fintan Patch at Ha! Comedy Club every Tuesday night!!! Show times are: 8:30, 9:30, 10:30, 11:30 and 12:30. Ha! Comedy Club is located on 369 W46th in Manhattan. Call (212) 977-3884 for more information.

Go Dance Into Heavy Traffic and Die, Please. Thank You.

2004-07-17T01:26:00.000-07:00

The worst display in the world is when children mumble out a song and do their spaz out dance for adults and the adults act as blown away as if they were sitting front row center at a Cirque de Soleil show.

Stop pretending you’re impressed by these ingratiating, attention-whore-demon-seeds, you phonies! You sicken me. Never forget that these hack mini-mongoloids are the enemy; they're the impetus behind big business purveying that most mind-corroding and milquetoasty of all mainstream movie manure – family friendly entertainment. Bleccch!

How about telling your major league non-miracle that they’ll need to do more to impress you than making gimpy hand gestures and shouting out demented gibberish like a lit up Courtney Love having her daily afternoon meltdown at the pharmacy counter when she doesn't get all 153 of her prescriptions filled.

Here's an idea: no one cares that your kid can do a dance, unless your kid is legal, dancing to spite you and a pole is involved. Otherwise, keep your Mickey Mouse Club rejects' shitty performances to yourself. You like to watch kids so much, go marry Angelina Jolie and adopt Cambodia. Leave the rest of us out of it.

The Life and Times of a Kamikaze Kike (Is it still wrong when a Jew uses that word? But more importantly, am I an ass for even posing that question?)

2004-06-13T01:41:00.000-07:00

I grew up in the South Bronx where I attended ummm…what was the name of my proud alma mater?...Oh, yeah - P.S. Oz. In the yearbook I was voted, “Most Likely To Become Our Prison Bitch.” On picture day I was the only one who showed up, because they already had everyone else’s mug shots on file.

Growing up in the projects of the South Bronx felt a little weird because...well, I’m fucking white! Not just regular pinkish-hue-white, but Jerry-Seinfeld-could-call-me-a-cracker-kick-my-ass-and-steal-my-sneakers-on-the-PAX-channel-white.

And my parents were clueless. They’d dress me up in cheap preppy clothes from Alexander’s and t-shirts migrant farm workers wouldn’t wear. I looked like a poor man’s Alex P. Keaton, while everyone else looked like extras from Mad Max.

I really can’t believe I survived. Neither could my parents. That’s why my mom started an office pool at her job. She took some action on internal bleeding without complications for a g. Bets were flying off the boards, so my dad had to settle for puncture wounds with bite marks and a boot up my ass for $20.

My parents may have been negligent about a lot of things, but pathological gambling was definitely not one of them.

Please take a second and sign this anti-FCC petition

2004-06-09T22:57:00.000-07:00

http://www.stopfcc.com/

How many male nurses does it take to ...

2004-06-04T11:39:00.000-07:00

Male nurses are like the new mailmen now with people snapping at work and going on these wild killing sprees. Just recently they discovered a male nurse who had killed something like forty people and he barely beat the previous psycho-nurse’s record set just a couple year’s back.

I've reduced the problem to a simple formula:

(daily gay jokes x shit-smeared asses) ÷ doctors getting all the good nurse poon = one primo fucking serial killer.

Jews For Jesus

2004-06-04T02:16:00.000-07:00

A lot of times people will ask you weird questions when they find out you’re Jewish. “You’re Jewish? So...what, you don’t believe in Jesus?”

“No, I don’t believe in Jesus not because of my religion, but because Jesus was a Jewish carpenter and that to me is about as plausible as a lilac scented hobo."

Yeah, sure, we may buy some plywood crap at Home Depot but when we we finally schlep it home and get a single splinter, we'll call the only carpenters named Jesus we do believe in - that’s right – desperate Mexicans who work for cheap.

One Love

2004-05-17T04:33:00.000-07:00

http://www.theonecampaign.org/

Russian as a Second Language

2004-05-17T03:00:00.000-07:00

When people learn I speak a different language, one of the first things everyone always wants to know is, "How do you curse?"

“You know Russian? Wow, that’s so neat. Hey, we’ve been wondering about this for a while now: ummm…how would you say, `Drill my sloppy mudhole, you moldy slab of dick cheese?'"

And I’m like, “Whoah! Hey! Slow down there Father McDiddle...and get your hand out of your robe!"

Hemorrhiod Popping Crags and Carson Daly

2004-05-15T11:02:00.000-07:00

I had to go shopping for some new calendars the other day (I know it's June. For the sake of this bit let's just say the calendars are all discounted now and I'm a cheap Russian-Jew).

Once a year, I have to fucking decide what represents me better -- F-14 Tomahawks or pictures of Weimaraners dressed up as people? Or maybe I should go with 12 months of Britney or Justin or some other pop star sellouts? Which begs the question: Does every purchase have to represent my identity in some way?

Here are some more hemorrhoid popping crags for your sphincter:

1) Must our hum-drum lives be ubiquitously decorated with insipid corporate approved “cool” and “safe” images that announce to the world who you think you are, or rather, the one of about five ready-to-wear name brand personas you've selected at the mall?

2) Aren't we getting carried away with personalized wallpaper on computers and cell phones, thousands of different ring tones, checks and credit cards with your choice of background themes?

3) Is our buying into this false sense of belonging through mainstream coolness just a cop out from doing genuine identity searching? And is it really healthy for our culture to mix art and commerce so lazily that we are expressing ourselves from the outside in instead of the inside out?

4) Are we ever going to stand up to corporate giants’ relentless marketing of slick, soulless turds wrapped up in pretty packages?

It's all so depressing and wrong, it just crushes the soul.

Anyway, if you’d like to get your mind off of it, you should check out my new Web site:

www.AllanFinnsTRLisAwesomeWhoooHooo.com

where you can order the coolest Nick and Jessica posters, lunchboxes, tampons, enemas, bed pans and yes, even calendars. You name it, we’ve got it. And remember, you'll save 10 bucks if you also buy Nick's very aptly named CD, SoulO.

Here’s what one young fan had to say about SoulO on TRL:
“When I heard how raw and edgy Nick is on SoulO, I became wildly excited, shrieked, shrieked again, shrieked some more and then almost orgasmed out the window of a 15-story building - and I guarantee you will too!”

"Boy, was this CD shiny!!!," raved Carson Daly. "It was jam packed with all sorts of singing and instruments that made me want to guzzle down some Wild Turkey, grab my old toe nail clippers, and circumcise myself all over again! I haven't felt the urge to tear off my second skin like this since Clay Aiken broke the countdown for 12 weeks in a row! All right!!!"

Buy it now!!!

Lying liar

2004-05-15T10:53:00.000-07:00

http://www.bushlies.net/
pages/7/index.htm

Papa Pimp

2004-05-14T20:42:00.000-07:00

My father was a tough man to please...orally, I mean. At least, that's what the whores tell me.

Migraine of The Week

2004-05-14T18:55:00.000-07:00

Coming soon!

My Badly Botched Circumcision

2004-05-14T18:30:00.000-07:00

Some Jewish people are afraid to act cheap and pushy because of the stereotypes. Shit, not me. When the check comes at a restaurant and everyone’s looking extra hard at what I’m gonna put in, I don’t care. I have pennies and nickels and dimes in my wallet and I’m not afraid to use them. And I’m not afraid to round down either. I’m a down-rounding, penny loving motherfucking Jew and you can kiss my badly botched circumcision if you don’t like it.

Fuck, I’ve driven through tolls with a giant hard on, excited to drop my 35 pennies. And just like my daddy, when we drive through the tolls, it’s everyone out of the car to pick up whatever change they can get off the ground in under 10 seconds. To us, that’s like hitting straight 7's at the slots.

And you don’t have to tolerate it. You can be annoyed. There are plenty of things WASPs, Latinos, Blacks, Muslims, Hare Krishnas, etc… do that are just as annoying. The only thing you have to worry about is not giving me or anybody else a beating for it. Look, grumble and move on -- that's all we ask.

Dicks and Assholes

2004-05-14T18:01:00.000-07:00

I’m not into gay porn, unless you’re talking about giraffes and midgets (only because, I admit it, I like to look at hardcore bestiality and step ladders when I masturbate), but I’d drop a peep show quarter in a second to see George Bush, Dick Cheney and everybody else in that corrupt administration get savagely mauled and anally raped by the cast of Will and Grace.

I love how they’ve come out against the biggest issue facing my everyday life in Fartbomb, New Jersey - gay marriage. I haven’t seen the latest Gallup Polls, but, scientifically speaking, the average male spanks it hard to at least 50 to 100 hot lesbians in his porn collection per year. And if these guys in the Bush administration have or have ever had any kind of penis, I’m sure they’ve used it to he-bop it to their fair share of lesbian hotties.

So, it’s a little hypocritical to deny civil rights to those wonderful muffpie mongers who’ve given all of us, Republicans and Democrats alike, some of the most special moments of our lives. But ohhhh, if it were only about hot lipstick lesbians with their delicious hooters and dildo hootenannies. It’s not; it’s bigger than that. This is about men having sex with each other; dicks and assholes -- and that’s something, I concede, the Bush administration can speak on with great authority.

Recent excerpt from a conversation:

2004-05-14T10:42:00.000-07:00

DM: You’re going to drive to St. Louis from New Jersey and you’re only taking two days off?
AF: Yeah. Why not?
DM: Do you know St. Louis is at least 20 hours away?
AF: Oh. I thought with the telephone reception being so good it couldn’t be that far.
DM: That’s a standard my grandmother may have used.
AF: Wow, they’ve really done some good work improving the phone lines over the years.
DM: What are you going to do? You can’t drive here and back in two days. You’ll need some time to relax.
AF: Hey, hey, hey. Don’t you worry about me. I’ve got flip-flops and loose underwear – relaxed is taken care of.

One Aloof, Crazy Bastard

2004-05-11T12:05:00.000-07:00

My girlfriend (I should say fiancée but I hate the word. I live in fucking Jersey. It just seems a little out of place throwing around any French-based expressions here.)...anycrap...my girlfriend may end up serving prison time because I am one aloof, crazy bastard.

Here’s how it started:
I was doing stand-up comedy at an open mic in Hoboken in December and I fucking bombed. Damn neo-hippie-quasi-yuppie-pseudo-artist pussies! They couldn't take a little edgy bit like my grandpa crapping routine.

After they got a whiff of my act, some of these sissified Gen X'ers' jaws dropped to the floor, while the rest looked like they were gonna retch. I walked out frustrated, angry, and with my insatiable appetite for laughs less satiated than usual. My ego minced to a pulp, I slunked out of there ready to put this spectacularly shitty performance behind me.

But fucking Hoboken!!! Apparently, Hoboken is a town with 300,000 yuppies and about three legal parking spaces. And good luck figuring out those parking signs without a palm pilot powered by NASA.

Of course, I got the ticket. Well, not me, but Cheryl because I was driving her car (my car reeks of fish because I work in a sea food restaurant). When I sat down in the car, I was so furious with the neo-hippies, and now the establishment, I decided to unleash my rage by taking that ticket and ... uh, tossing it in the backseat where it eventually decomposed, I think.

Little did I know (well, I knew, but with my stoner-like memory, I quickly forgot) Cheryl hasn't changed her address to our new place on her license. So the mail never came for the ticket and I just wasn't thinking about it. My energy was directed elsewhere… like perfecting my hack grandpa crapping routine.

Months went by, until eventually her license was suspended, and we were promptly pulled over by the cops. Three police cars came careening down the road, all around our Toyota for this. Hey, word to the force: I’m unarmed, goofy-looking, Jewish, and a comedian – I don’t think I'll match any mug shot EVER. Let’s not get all Rodney King over this. It's Bergen County -- not Compton. Lotsa Jews and no one's going around here flashing any Star of David gang signs, spray painting "L'Chaim, Bitch" on storefront gates.

So all this cuckoo commotion, when all Cheryl wanted was to go two miles to the local Wendy's and buy one lousy, $2.99 spicy chicken sandwich after a hard day's work. Now, she gets spanked with a huge ticket for driving with a suspended license and a court appearance for which she needs to hire an attorney. Meanwhile, I was lucky the cops let me drive the car back because my license was suspended, too. Not because of a ticket, but because I never renewed it, and like I said earlier, I am one aloof, crazy bastard.

What's A Geneva Convention?

2004-05-10T19:11:00.000-07:00

Everybody is always bitching about their family and their friends. What many of you don’t seem to grasp is that all people come with their own designated time limits.

My parents, for instance, are good for 10 minutes at a clip, once a weekend in March, when the moon is in its vernal equinox, the humidity is low and the wind is coming in from the west at 12 m.p.h. (with a high pressure guilt system always moving in later that evening).

Identify these designated time limits as soon as you can and stick to them, or the consequences can be disastrous. Go past someone’s designated time limit and you’re just asking for trouble.

Just try mixing up your proven 8-minute cigarette break people and your hour-and-a-half drinking buddies with that new, untested, Midwestern shy girl on the job and her half-cracked, trailer-trash, military-nerd, divorcee lover; you too just might end up partying with dog collars, naked human pyramids, and testical electrodes faster than you can say, “What’s a Geneva Convention?"

And while we're on the subject...

What were they thinking would happen with Rummy's 15-minutes-tops unhinged hack hillbilly comics running things? These perfectly rational wunderkinds heard "softening" and thought, "Let's put something out there maybe only five gay German S&M fetishists living in Marilyn Manson's basement would enjoy. Hey, if we try hard enough, we can make it even gayer and more violent than that new Troy movie."

Some of you may call my ideas poorly thought out or scatterbrained, but you see, my genius lies in making these pearls work for me anywhere.

Fun, Attention Grabbing Ideas For All You Job Hunters

2004-05-10T17:39:00.000-07:00

I’m looking for a job, but my therapist thinks I’m too self-destructive to find one. He thinks I’m out to sabotage myself just because I tend not to use typical “power words” on my resume and cover letter.

Sure, like I’m the crazy one. I’m just trying to mix it up a little. I ask you, what’s so wrong with replacing boring, old business buzzwords like “supervised,” "managed," and “directed” with zestier expressions, like “bukkaked” and “doused while unconscious?” Huh?!!?!? I say nothing at all.

Girls Gone Wild!!!

2004-05-10T17:27:00.000-07:00

If I had to choose, I'd say I relate most to the Turkish bear girl:

http://www.feralchildren.com/en/children.php

Nifty Ways To Liven Up Your Suicide

2004-05-10T13:35:00.000-07:00

I'm not condoning suicide here, but if you're pretty much set on going to bed with a shovel, for heaven's sake don't be cliché about it. You're probably not going to get to go through this meshugaas again, so show some creativity for once you godforsaken, hopeless bastard.

Here are a few terrific life-discarding tips you’re probably not going to get from one of those "up-on-life" emergency hotline operators:

Choosing the right setting is key. Enough with the bedrooms, bathrooms, garages, bridges, pavement at the foot of a tall building – pardon the pun, but they’ve all been done to death. You were such a depressing, burdensome load in life, must you exit on a ho hum downer as well? If I were going to utterly destroy myself, I think a great place to consider would be a comedy club.

After deciding on a club, I'd make sure to get there extra early so I could ask for a front row seat. Once the show would begin, I’d be laughing heartily, all the while secretly waiting for the right squeaky clean, anonymous hopeful to come on. Then in the middle of his act, I would get up and scream, "Aaaarrrgggghhh!!! What kind of jokes are these?!?! I can't take it anymore!!!" And that there would be the perfect time to unleash the flamethrower on myself.

You can also try this in restaurants but, of course, instead of saying, “What kind of jokes are these?!?!,” you should try, “My croutons are stale!!! Why dear God are my croutons stale?!?!?” And then, unleash the flamethrower.

For a less horrifying touch, give some thought to purchasing a quirkier weapon like a harpoon gun or a spiked flail, for instance. Most people, myself included, would be curious to see one of these in action and would tend not to flee as quickly from them as anything with a large hose that shoots flames.

But if I can be serious for a moment, ummm...suicide is...it, uhhh...sucks, right? Kids, don’t do it. There are a lot of things to look forward to in life. Too bad I’ve run out of room to list them all. Ha, ha, ha! But seriously, my advice to you: try not to inconvenience your busy friends with empty cries for help. Just buy some cheap anti-depressants from an underground internet outfit instead. If they’re no good, who cares? They could use the business and you weren’t looking to stick around anyway.

It’s really a shame I flunked out of college. I would have made a damn fine psychologist.