Whenever my parents fought and I had to stay overnight at my grandparents’ house, Grampa pulled a red book from the shelf and read bedtime stories to me.
They fought a lot, so I was over there once… twice a week.
And a new story each night, one I’d never heard since.
When I was a senior in high school, there was a carbon monoxide leak, and Grandma and Grampa died.
I found the red book of Grampa’s stories, opened it, and saw it was full of the raunchiest pornography I’d ever seen.
I guess Grampa was a good improviser.
Tag: dirty
Not yet written
My mother always said that “God has not yet written the future.”
And she was right.
God never writes shit down.
Oh, He may send an angel or a burning bush to harass someone, and they’ll freak out and tell a bunch of people about it. But, really, God doesn’t write anything down.
Ever wonder why?
It’s because His handwriting is awful. Like a child holding a crayon in their fist.
And he’s too cheap to buy a voice recorder, let alone think about starting a podcast or YouTube channel.
So, He created mankind. To write shit down for him.
Control
I don’t know what’s more embarrassing… losing control of your bowels in a movie theater or losing control of your bowels in a courtroom.
When you lose control of them in a movie theater, okay, you make a mess in your pants and the seat, but all it takes is a mop and a steam-cleaner and everything’s as good as new.
But when you lose control of them in a courtroom, well, you have to file an appeal, pay the lawyer again, and make sure you get a judge who doesn’t think you don’t deserve custody of your own asshole.
Axl the Asshole
When did women start throwing panties on stage?
Some say it started with Tom Jones and his Vegas concerts.
Others say it was Wayne Newton, because women would mistake him for Tom Jones.
And still others say it started with Elvis, and panties that ended up on Tom Jones’ or Wayne Newton’s stages were there only because of the unusual updrafts and air currents on The Strip.
But the truth is, it started with Axl Rose.
Not because women were totally in love with him or were enthralled by his music.
No, it’s because he’s such a whiny rockstar pussy.
Snapshots
Clark Kent asked Jimmy Olsen about a good sturdy camera that would stand up to travel.
“Oh, one like mine,” said Jimmy, handing Clark his spare.
Clark developed his own shots, framed a few.
Typical Metropolis street scenes. Sunsets. Lois smirking.
Clark eventually bought his own, returned Jimmy’s camera.
Jimmy saw that Clark had left some film in there, but he didn’t want to bother him, so he developed it himself.
The Eiffel Tower? The Grand Canyon?
On the same roll?
Jimmy fainted as the final shot on the roll appeared through the developer’s solution.
The whole earth. From space.
###
Perry White called Clark Kent into his office and handed him a smartphone.
“Use this to tweet and facebook,” said Perry. “All that new stuff.”
“Um, how do I do that?” stammered Kent.
“Read the fucking manual,” said Perry. “Lois figured it out, so do it!”
Jimmy Olsen helped Clark set it all up: signing up for accounts, friending people, and testing the camera.
Everything went great, until someone noticed the GPS tags.
From Paris to Metropolis in 20 minutes?
“Um, someone hacked my password?” stammered Clark.
“At least you didn’t tweet your dick like that Weiner guy,” said Lois.
Watch The Clock
When Christmas approaches, online retailers see sales skyrocket, and so does the load on their servers.
Those who added memory and processing power, or shifted to scalable cloud solutions are running smoothly.
But others running sloppy code on overloaded old servers are crashing constantly.
And screaming at us in Support.
I look.
The server’s fine. The platform’s fine. The hardware’s fine.
You’re just slamming the crap out of it.
They say they can’t afford to buy upgrades or suffer any downtime, but we have to fix it.
I don’t have a magic wand, I tell them.
And watch the clock.
We Wish You
I don’t know who was more shocked… me or the genie that came out of the rusty hurricane lamp I rubbed.
He started talking about wishes when the doorbell rang.
“It’s Christmas,” I said. “Fucking carolers, I bet.”
We went upstairs, down the hall, and opened the door.
Yup. Fucking carolers!
“We wish you a Merry Christmas!
We wish you a Merry Christmas!
We wish you a Merry Christmas!”
I started to mumble something.
Genie clapped his hands together.
And then the carolers burst into flames and died.
“So, what’s wish number two?”
I wasted a wish on…
Fucking carolers!
The Gift That Keeps On Giving
Every year, I get asked the same question.
“What do you want for Christmas?”
Hrm. I have no idea.
I’m rather content with the stuff I’ve got.
Maybe an extra scrub brush for the carpet cleaner when the cat vomits, but beside that, I’m good.
“You don’t give scrub brushes for Christmas,” she says.
She dumped a pile of catalogs in my lap, and leaves more and more catalogs out for me to review.
I look through them, all full of crap I don’t want or need.
Then, I spot something.
A paper shredder.
For all these fucking catalogs.
Perfect.
Figgy
Some people get a bit carried away with Christmas.
I’m not talking about the trees and lights and manger scenes in front lawns.
What I worry about is the carolers.
Some stick to the basics, like Silent Night.
They sing the song, shake the charity tipjar, and move along.
But others, well, they’ve fucking lost it.
One roaming chorus took We Wish You A Merry Christmas over the edge, threatening people with demands for figgy pudding.
Who the fuck keeps figgy pudding around anyway?
Is the wassail boiling yet?
Good. Open the door and I’ll toss it in their faces.
It’s In The Way That You Use It
“It’s not how long it is, but what you do with it.”
Stubby Malone’s penis was the shortest of anybody’s I knew, but what he did with it sure put other guys to shame.
Remember when he conducted the Chicago Symphony with it?
When his critics said “You’re just waving it around” he told the glockenspielist to step aside and, boy, did he shut those wags up!
Painting… fencing… picking locks… wrote a best-selling novel… there was nothing he couldn’t do.
Well, besides please a woman properly with it.
(Which is why he got so good with his tongue, too.)