reasons to laugh

Dreams where my friends kill me

Monday, June 17th, 2013

So a few months back I had a dream that my friend, Trish, killed us in a car crash. I woke up incensed and texted her this.

“JEEBUS CHRIST. I just awoke from a dream that you were driving us on an 8-lane freeway bridge and got distracted by something and hit the guard rail and we went into this major spin and ended up on the other side of the highway. For a brief second it looked like maybe this was a survivable situation, but then the guard rail on the side we were now on gave way and we started to fall the 200 feet to the water below. You said “we’re out” followed by (so you) “Love you!” and I unlocked the door and put my hand on my seatbelt in case living was an option, but then it all went white and I knew we were dead.
And fuck you! Haha”

I still remember this dream as vividly as though it really happened.

My one condolence – well, minus the fact that my super lovable and most excellent friend both didn’t die/kilis us and is still around for me/the world to enjoy – is, if I did die this way, I think I’d be pretty calm seeing as I’ve been through dream versions of if dozens of times now. :/

For years and years the dream was that I drove off a cliff.

In the last six months it’s that I’m the passenger and someone I know, love and trust accidentally (or incidentally out of some otherwise charming nuance of their personality) kills us with a motor vehicle.


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Brimming With Bad Advice

Thursday, April 28th, 2011

So I have a friend who lives in the Liverpool area and we sometimes talk (type) via that Blackberry Messenger thing. It’s free, and he’s often drunk there when it’s the middle of the day here, so it provides occasional minor entertainment. As you know by now, I’m always looking for free ways to waste time.


Teeth tattooed with royal couple

This wanker actually got this tattooed on his teeth. He's the first one you should execute as part of the revolution. Sinister, indeed.

But I digress.

This morning he writes me “Have you heard some wedding is going on tomorrow?” which actually was news to me. I mean, I realize the older spawn of Charles and Diana is getting married, I just didn’t quite know when. At first I thought it was last Sunday (yes, Easter. I didn’t realize it was Easter either. Sue me.), which someone actually LAUGHED AT ME for. I think it’s a sign of intellectual superiority to have no clue what’s going on with the friggin’ royal family. I also pride myself on not being able to name any of the Kardashians except Kim. Anyway, then I thought the wedding was this coming Sunday until, well, the text this morning. Who gets married on a Friday anyway?

Oh, and while I’m on the subject, did William get his dad’s unfortunate choppers or what? No amount of braces can tame the gigantic teeth that are Prince Charles’ pedigree.  Hmmmm…. Do those people have a last name? Or is it like Cher? Perhaps i’s just “Prince Charles” and call it good.

Prince William smiling

Those are Dad's teeth for sure.

So back to the story: Trying to be polite, I write back and say “so I take it this is a big deal – vicariously – for you all?” It was a vicarious big deal for most of us when Obama became President, so I can relate.

So he says something about how he’s uneasy with it and that it seems sinister and something about incest and a bunch of other stuff that basically confused the hell out of me which ultimately led to ANOTHER revelation (this one much more significant than mistakenly thinking they were getting married on a Sunday) which is that the royal family actually wields some kind of power.

This I did not know. I thought they were just figureheads, but my friend tells me “The Queen is the head of everything. There is only a government by her consent. There is no constitution here. It’s all protocol/ritual.”

This is where my advice-giving kicked in, and it was good stuff. Thus, it didn’t seem fair that my friend – who, again, spends a lot of time drunk and is unlikely to actually act on anything I tell him – be the only Limey in possession of this insight.

Prince Charles grimacing

You can get plastic surgery for the ears, but the teeth are what they are.

So sit down, shut up, listen and learn. You can thank me later when you’re all buying yourselves Aston Martins with the money you split from the ransacked royal coffers.


You know you want to. It’s high time. It’s been almost four hundred years since Oliver Cromwell. Besides, all you’ve got going on over there is the X-Factor and Papa John’s pizza. A revolution will give you something new to discuss during the pub quiz.

Here’s what I advise:

1. Sink a few ships full of tea or throw a few boxes into the nearest body of water. This will make much more of a statement if it’s English Breakfast or Earl Grey or one of those. Save the Oolong to drink with your next Chinese Takeaway.

2. Do this while screaming a catchy slogan. “No taxation with representation” is a bit hackneyed, so I’ve taken the liberty of coming up with a few new ones for you.

Prince Charles windblown

This one is included simply because it made me laugh.

“There will be executions until we get a constitution!”

(Actual executions optional.)

“No more Queen Mother: I’d like to see her smother!”

(Look, I’m on a time crunch here. This is the best I can do off the top of my head.)

“The royal family looks like a bunch of chimpanzees!”

(These are getting downright weak. I’m going to stop here.)


3. Write a manifesto. Get someone with good handle on fiery, highfalutin, and occasionally incomprehensible language like “secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity” and “no Attainder of Treason shall work Corruption of Blood, or Forfeiture except during the Life of the Person attainted.”



4. Force poor people to fight for you

Revolutionary soldiers

This makes it look a lot better than it probably was.

This is key. What I suggest is that you become mayor of somewhere and then pass a law that the only way out of the draft you just started is to pay you one million pounds. Everyone who can’t come up with it has to fight. Instant army, easy breezy. Also, make sure there’s an inadequate supply of shoes, clothes, and weaponry. Nothing gets a man fired up like having to tramp around in the wet mud without shoes while being stalked by someone with a working gun. He’ll fight with his wooden pistol just to take the boots off the other guy. Again: candy from a baby…

5. Set lots of stuff on fire. Anarchy is all about uncontrolled street corner fires.

6. Boycott all British goods.

Happily, Papa Johns is not British, so you should be fine.


You’re welcome in advance. Good luck and enjoy your revolution!



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Stupid Pet Trick? Check.

Tuesday, April 12th, 2011

In reality, I probably  have no shot of getting him to recreate this in a public and/or on-demand forum, but I’m enjoying fantasies of appearing on Letterman or even some daytime lameness, like Live with Regis & Kelly.

Do your part, and spread this thing far and wide. The dog comedy world needs more dog comedy.

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Always remember to curse the candy!

Saturday, October 31st, 2009

I love Halloween!!!

Last weekend I ordered several cheap wigs online  - a pink bob, a “Storm” (X-men) one, a black one with red (like lipstick red) highlights, and this multi-colored 80′s rocker mullet number. The site said they would absolutely be here by today, and now the site is all screwed up (php problems, I know ye well), and I can’t find a phone number to call them and check up, and the wigs aren’t here. Bastards.

You've seen this one before, but it seemed extra-appropriate. This is me (and my brother) worshipping Satan and encouraging the curses of a thousand demons to come down on us.

You've seen this one before, but it seemed extra-appropriate. This is me (and my brother) worshipping Satan and encouraging the curses of a thousand demons to come down on us.

Oh well. They could still come later today (***fingers crossed***) or, if not, they’ll get here eventually. In that case, I’ll just sprinkle the photos into blog posts from time to time as I’m inclined.

Meanwhile, in honor of the holiday, it occurs to me that putting razor blades into an apple or poisoning a snack-size Snickers is so passe.

Plus, there’s the whole ‘spending the rest of your life in prison’ thing to contend with – and probably not one of those nice prisons where they put embezzlers –  and where’s the fun in that?

That’s why I was so glad to find this article by Kimberly Daniels, founder of Spoken Word Ministries, entitled “The Danger of Celebrating Halloween.”

It turns out it’s much, MUCH easier to ruin some little kids night (that’ll teach ‘em to dress up like The Little Mermaid or Spiderman) than previously thought.

Allow me to share entirely too much of this illuminating piece of, um, journalism. I think you, like me, will be glad you’re armed with this information before the trick-or-treaters start showing up at your door (unless, of course, you’re not American, in which case that will probably  not happen. I tell you though, you guys are missing out. Some of my happiest childhood memories involved trick-or-treating):

The Danger of Celebrating Halloween

Halloween—October 31—is considered a holiday in the United States. The word “holiday” means “holy day.” But there is nothing holy about Halloween. The root word of Halloween is “hallow,” which means “holy, consecrated and set apart for service.” If this holiday is hallowed, whose service is it set apart for? The answer to that question is very easy—Lucifer’s!


The key word in discussing Halloween is “dedicated.” It is dedicated to darkness and is an accursed season. During Halloween, time-released curses are always loosed. A time-released curse is a period that has been set aside to release demonic activity and to ensnare souls in great measure.

So is this ‘time-released curse’ thing like the time of the year when The Real Housewives of Orange County is on? You don’t want to watch it, and you kind of hate all of them, but you find yourself standing in the kitchen watching it, and perhaps even while part of your brain is like “Turn this shit off! This is terrible! Stop! No more! I can’t take it anymore! You’re losing brain cells!”

I’m totally vibing on this time-released curse. The Real Housewives of Orange County have ensnared my soul…but for only a few months out of the year.

During this period demons are assigned against those who participate in the rituals and festivities. These demons are automatically drawn to the fetishes that open doors for them to come into the lives of human beings. For example, most of the candy sold during this season has been dedicated and prayed over by witches.

I grew up near Hershey, Pennsylvania and have been through the Hershey Chocolate Factory tour countless times and they NEVER show this (obviously standard and critical) part of the candy-making process. They never even mention sorcery or witches or dedications. I feel cheated.

It’s no wonder those Krackel bars don’t taste how I remember. Most Hershey chocolate is made in Mexico these days. It must be the distinct flavor of the south of the border bruja witchcraft I’m picking up on. More shamanic/Don Juan the Nagual, less Mother Earth paganism.

I do not buy candy during the Halloween season. Curses are sent through the tricks and treats of the innocent whether they get it by going door to door or by purchasing it from the local grocery store. The demons cannot tell the difference.

Stupid demons.

Even the colors of Halloween (orange, brown and dark red) are dedicated. These colors are connected to the fall equinox, which is around the 20th or 21st of September each year and is sometimes called “Mabon.” During this season witches are celebrating the changing of the seasons from summer to fall. They give praise to the gods for the demonic harvest. They pray to the gods of the elements (air, fire, water and earth).

So what exactly is found in a demonic harvest? Is that a normal harvest but with evil overtones, or is that just a bunch of gnarly stuff no one wants to eat?

For me, a demonic harvest would consist of nothing but celery (which I detest),  green bell peppers (which mess me up something fierce.), and mushy apples.

Mother earth is highly celebrated during the fall demonic harvest. Witches praise mother earth by bringing her fruits, nuts and herbs. Demons are loosed during these acts of worship. When nice church folk lay out their pumpkins on the church lawn, fill their baskets with nuts and herbs, and fire up their bonfires, the demons get busy. They have no respect for the church grounds. They respect only the sacrifice and do not care if it comes from believers or non-believers.

I just cannot get over how naive I have been.

Of course. Pumpkins are the root of all evil. Pumpkins and mother earth. Pumpkins and mother earth and fruits and nuts and herbs and baskets and church folk. I should have known.

The gods of harvest that the witches worship during their fall festivals are the Corn King and the Harvest Lord. When we pray, we bind the powers of the strong men that people involved in the occult worship.

If I was an evil entity, I would pick a scarier name that the Corn King. He should consider a change to something like “Skeleton Warrior” or “Death King.”

Same goes for the Harvest Lord. How about “Demon Lord” or “Harvest Annihilator”?

Halloween is much more than a holiday filled with fun and tricks or treats. It is a time for the gathering of evil that masquerades behind the fictitious characters of Dracula, werewolves, mummies and witches on brooms. The truth is that these demons that have been presented as scary cartoons actually exist. I have prayed for witches who are addicted to drinking blood and howling at the moon.

Holy crap!

I think my dog might be a witch! He, too, is addicted to howling at the moon.

No wonder he’s always trying to get at the candy…

While the lukewarm and ignorant think of these customs as “just harmless fun,” the vortexes of hell are releasing new assignments against souls. Witches take pride in laughing at the ignorance of natural men (those who ignore the spirit realm).

You had me at ‘vortexes of hell.’

Decorating buildings with Halloween scenes, dressing up for parties, going door-to-door for candy, standing around bonfires and highlighting pumpkin patches are all acts rooted in entertaining familiar spirits. All these activities are demonic and have occult roots.

I had no idea my pink bob was demonic.

Is it wrong that I’m still excited about it?

The word “occult” means “secret.” The danger of Halloween is not in the scary things we see but in the secret, wicked, cruel activities that go on behind the scenes. These activities include:

  1. Sex with demons
  2. Orgies between animals and humans
  3. Animal and human sacrifices
  4. Sacrificing babies to shed innocent blood
  5. Rape and molestation of adults, children and babies
  6. Revel nights
  7. Conjuring of demons and casting of spells
  8. Release of “time-released” curses against the innocent and the ignorant.

Holy hell. What kind of neighborhood does this lady live in?

If you ask me, somebody had better stop writing bizarre articles and start a Neighborhood Watch program.

Another abomination that goes on behind the scenes of Halloween is necromancy, or communication with the dead. Séances and contacting spirit guides are very popular on Halloween, so there is a lot of darkness lurking in the air.

Somehow I thought necromancy had something to do with having sex with dead bodies? I guess you start by contacting them in a séance, and it’s a slippery slope from there…


A million, billion, trillion thank yous to The Fat Geek for fixing my blog this morning!!!

Once again – as you may have logged on and found – it went kerplooey, and TFG worked some witchcraft of his own and raised it from the dead. I am a stone cold idiot when it comes to technical blog stuff, and I guarantee it would still be down without him (and I would be having a conniption fit). THANK YOU AGAIN!!!


If you must know how the story ends (it had to do with renouncing demons and throwing out candy), you can find the original article here.

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It’s Mel Gibson’s world. We’re just living in it.

Thursday, October 22nd, 2009

Can somebody please get a message to Mel Gibson for me?

I’m thinking something like this:

Mel, WTF? You are not God (Good God, I hope you’re not God…)

Wait, let me start over.

He almost looks happy?

He almost looks happy?

Mel, WTFF? (which is my own shorthand for ‘What the effing eff?’). It happened, dude. We all know it. And I have a memory like a goddamned elephant. I will remember. So you can’t rewrite history.

In fact, let me give you a little history lesson: You went out on a drunk joyride, got picked up, said a bunch of regrettable stuff about ‘The Jews’, and had a mug shot taken in which you smile, which is strange in and of itself, but we won’t go there.

Going to court and having it removed from your record is not something the rest of us would be able to do because we are not famous, filthy rich movie actors with a god complex.

Scratch that part.

Going to court and having it removed from your record does not mean it didn’t happen.

And suing TMZ for publishing the photos?

That doesn’t undo it either.

The photos are EVERYWHERE, baby. And this is the Internets. They will never, ever, ever, ever, ever go away because that’s the way the Jews want it.

(Kidding. Although I wouldn’t blame them.)

So sorry to break it to you, Mel. Sue everybody you want, but until you invent and operate a brainwashing machine and use it on every last one of us, we will all remember the one night you used too much hair gel and did this weird little curlicue thing in the front and got in your car and drove around and got busted.

Your other option, of course, is a time machine…but things start to get so tricky when you tinker with the space-time continuum, so my vote is for the brainwashing machine.

If I get a vote…

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