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My contribution to Photo Friday, subject: "Somber".
1. The rise of the Metrosexual: The popular media has repeatedly and giddily heralded a new breed of man walking the face of the earth, the metrosexual, defined for our purposes, as an urban heterosexual man who has adopted traditionally gay grooming and lifestyle habits.Using our own special brand of dubious logic we synthesize these two disparate facts and arrive at the following irrefutable truth:
2. Newton's Third Law: "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction."
In conjunction with the rise of metrosexuality, their must be, in rural areas, a corresponding increase in the number of poorly dressed, ill-groomed, decidedly unfabulous gay men.I can hear your objections, "Surely, Mr. Slimbolala, your claims are fallacious! If this were true it would have been extensively covered in the press. The New York Times alone would have bludgeoned it to death with dozens if not hundreds of articles. This cannot be!"
What is the appropriate term for a rural gay man who has adopted traditionally heterosexual grooming and lifestyle habits?Remember folks it's got to be catchy. It's got to roll off the tongue. It's got to sell magazines, newspapers, and TV shows. There will be Straight Eye for the Queer Guy:
"Man, you gotta stop waxing your back. Looks like a baby's ass. Remember backhair is what separates the men from the boys... the men from the boys. And take it easy on those crunches too. Only kind of six pack a real man needs is a six pack of beer. Heh, heh. Hey, Hank! You heard what I said? I said, 'only kind of six pack a real man needs is a six pack of beer.' Heh!"It's going to be huge, so make it peppy. Hip. Happening. Now.
A beatnik walks into a diner:I read it in a Zippy the Pinhead comic the better part of two decades ago, and I think it took me about a day and a half before I finally got it (until that moment I wasn't actually sure there was anything to get - I just assumed it was some sort of Dada, surrealist koan). Only because I had just gone through my Jack Kerouac stage did I ever get it at all.
Beatnik: Hey, lady, can I have a slice of apple pie?
Waitress: The apple pie is gone.
Beatnik: Dig it! Give me two slices!
a) 0Place your vote.
b) 1
c) 2 - 50
d) 51 - 1000
e) More than 1000
"When a dog hops on another dog that means they're having babies, right?"Of course, then I explained the importance of doggy-abstinence, the beauty of doggy-matrimony, and, as an absolute last resort, the necessity of doggy-condoms.
"Well..."
"Kind of, right?"
"Well... yeah... they're working on it."
"Mmm-hmm"
"Papa, do you want to hear a joke?"I'm fairly certain she's never actually heard a cop-doughnut joke. Of course, like many children, she's interested in policemen, and the subject of doughnuts comes up often enough (Doughnut Fridays is pretty much the only part of my job she understands). But the random combination of the two?
"Sure."
"What if a police officer went to a doughnut store and bought two doughnuts?"
"That's pretty funny."*
He stood up to demonstrate a levitation trick: by placing his heels together and flaring out his feet he rose up on the toes of one foot: It looked, from behind, as if he were actually lifting off. "Allah has given me the power to fly," he declared. "I don't believe it." "You don't believe Allah can do that?"That crazy guy! Now, go get a good night's sleep.
"I don't believe you'd take his name in vain for a silly trick."
His face lit up and he said, "You're not as dumb as you look," then headed off to get some more tricks.
"I'm not crazy. Mmm. [squeezes sides - sticks out tongue] I'm a tube of toothpaste. Mmm. [squeezes sides - sticks out tongue]"conflict:
"Shut the fuck up, Frodo!"observations on the human condition:
"All short people look the same."tall tales:
"... four bunghole chicks in a paper bag..."and wisdom:
"Real life is trippier than any drug you'll ever take."So true, my friend. So true. The night life... ain't no good life... but it's my life.*
What is the correct name of this item?The first person to correctly guess the answer wins fame, fortune, and one free hour of psychotherapy.
Ingredients:Feed the child dinner, making sure to really stuff them. Take them to the kiddie pool before they have a chance to properly digest. Allow the child to vigorously splash and play, ingesting large quantities of pool water. Continue the splashing and water ingestion until the child vomits. The vomit should be abundant and frothy with lots of floating bits. Now, notify the nearby lifeguard of the vomit-in-the-pool, and voila! Your "Shame and Ignominy Soup" is ready.
1 small child
1 large, orange dinner (the chunkier the better)
1 public kiddie pool
¡Hola! DjangoGet it? Get it? No? You're too old. Or I'm too unfunny. Or both.
Darth Dennis, Damnable Deliverer of Detestable Death, Damage, Degradation, and DestructionIt's getting there but could still use some more adjectives and maybe a noun or two. Any suggestions? Once we're done, we can fire it off to all the major networks, and, before you know it, it will be tripping off the tongues of talking heads everywhere. And remember, this a public service, folks, so do it for the children.
"Well, I'm not exactly living high on the hog, but I guess you could say I'm living high on the chicken."Amen.
Me: Congratulations on your new baby.Ay, caramba!
Co-worker: Thanks.
Me: Everybody's doing fine?
Co-worker: Oh yeah. Doing well. Well, he was a big guy, kind of rough on his momma, you know. A real seam-splitter. But she's recovering well.
Me: [stunned pause, quick attempt at recovery] Good, good. Glad to hear it. Well, take care.