Entries from October 2006 ↓

More and more Iraqi insurgents are becoming violin makers. Flooding the market with millions of mass-produced yet exquisite instruments. The Iraqi “Stradivarius” has become the “Model-T” of Baghdad.

The world observes helplessly as these finely-crafted, musical masterpieces are being forced upon the unsuspecting cilvilians.

When will the violins stop!

I was driving my buddies back to Queens from Manhattan one night and we passed by KFC and it reminded me of something I read about why Kentucky Fried Chicken changed its name to KFC. I vaugely remembered reading that the Commonwealth of Kentucky was in such a state of financial ruins that it trademarked its name.

One friend, Moody McCarthy, said, “That sounds like a lot of horseshit.”

I agreed with him but stood by the explanation because I knew in my heart that I had read it and it was true. How can a person read something if it were not true? That’s impossible.

Although, I couldn’t remember where I read it. So I scoured the Web and finally found it here at Snopes.com.

See. Why would I lie? Be sure to read the “Additional information:” link.

I can’t wait until elections are over. I’m sick of hearing people debate about stem-cell research. Everytime I turn on the television set, I see a microphone in front of a fast-food eatin’, NASCAR watchin’, God fearin’, Milwalkee’s Best drinkin’ country bumpkin saying, “I’m votin’ for Governor Allen because he supports our troops, he don’t believe in the gays, and he damn sure ain’t goin’ to vote for stem cell research.”

Ever since I first heard of about this issue, I have been 1,000 percent for stem cell research.
What pisses me off the most about this issue is that I don’t really know what stem cell research actually is. I’ve based my entire opinion on my hatred for the herd-mentality of conservative Christians.

I honestly have zero knowledge of stem cell research. Mind you, this coming from a guy who read Guns, Germs, and Steel, The History of Salt, The History of Coal, The Short History of Nearly Everything, and The History of Cod back to back. My brain is always thirsty for useless facts about anything.

But somehow these Jeff Gordon jacket wearin’ rednecks, know more about the subject than I do.

So my question is: Who’s dumber?

Whenever a homosexual individual introduces me to their partner, I immediately try to determine who’s the “husband” and who’s the “wife” in the relationship.

It’s always difficult because they both call each other “partner”. It would be extremely helpful if they designated different words. When I hear “partner”, it reminds me of a law office. So perhaps they could refer to the “wife” as an “associate”†.

†As I read this back, I realize how misogynistic this must sound by implying that woman are inferior to men. Obviously, I’m referring to a gay couple in the 1950s before the bra-burning feminist movement.

Lawmakers are trying to stop sex offenders from receiving Viagra through Medicaid.

Since doctors are discovering Viagra leads to blindness, the government should use this to their advantage and force these habitual offenders to use it. It’s hard to rape someone if you can’t see.

I heard Tony Bennett being interviewed on the radio and asked if he ever gets tired from singing his 1962 hit “I Left My Heart in San Francisco”.

He coyly responded with his own question, “Do you ever get tired of making love?”

As a comedian, I feel the same way about some of my jokes.

We (comedians) call these gems: our evergreen, “A” material. It doesn’t matter how old the joke is there is a high probablity that it will envoke laughter from an unsuspecting audience.

However, I don’t necessarily agree with Bennett’s analogy with love-making. Whenever I find myself spitting out a “classic” bit and get a great response, it feels more like I just mastubated to dirty jpegs instead of making love to an actual woman.

The fleeting, orgasmic feeling of laughter is immediately followed by the post-auto-coitus-clean-up-guilt because I reverted to an old joke rather than work on new material.

It gets the job done but I’d rather create new stuff.

I like to say, “My pet ant is a homosexual with a learning disablity”.

Here’s a lovely comment left on this post about Flavor of Love’s Deelishis:

renee // Oct 16th 2006 at 7:00 am

what the hell is funny about that? it would take a stupid white bastard to say some !@$$%$ like that.

PETA’s president, Ingrid Newkirk once stated, “When it comes to feelings such as pain, fear, hunger, and thirst, a rat is a pig is a dog is a boy.”

In her eyes, we are all the same.

Yet, their name is PETA which stands for:
People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.

Why do they differentiate between people and animal?

Aren’t animals and people equal?

You don’t hear civil right groups stating Whites for the Ethical Treatment of Coloreds and Miscellaneous People.

It should be Animals for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.

I understand why they don’t want to change their name because they would have to pronounce it Aye-EE-ta.

This could easily be confused with the Broadway musical Aida.

If they were smart, they would pair up with Disney and produce their own musical about a cow who falls in love with her owner.

Set in the outskirts of Chicago, Aeta is the exciting and passionate tale of a Moobian princess who falls in love with her owner, Farmer John. Aeta becomes the personal pet of Polly, the daughter of a meat packing mogul, who also is enamored by Farmer John. Aeta tells the tale of a story of love, devotion and betrayal spanning lifetimes.

…IF you are winning.

If you are losing, you start to hear players say, “Let’s wrap this shit up, I’m done.” But the winner will insist, “No, no, no, no! Let’s finish this! We’re almost done!”

They are called board games because you have to be bored-out-of-your-fucking mind to even contemplate playing them.

I remember one particular Christmas when I was the dickhead who wanted to play to the bitter end. I owned everything. I was like G to the Double-Oh to the muthafuckin G-L-E. I had all the light blues, Baltic and Mediterranean. I became a slumlord of my own little Cracktown. I opened up a pawnshop, a strip club…I didn’t care if rent was only four dollars, “Pay your four dollars or get your goddamned dog off my property!”

In my final, fatal stroke, my girlfriend landed on my Boardwalk that had two hotels. I know it was against the rules but fuck it. We were playing by my rules now. Rent was $3400. She only had $300. That’s when I look her square in the face and said, “Have you ever considered prostitution? I’ll take the $300, Marven Gardens, and Fellatio Avenue.”

I found this joke in my first notebook when I started in 1998. Yikes! (to be con’t)