Текст книги "When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops"

Автор книги: Джордж Карлин

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When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops

When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops

Copyright 2004 Comedy Concepts, Inc.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the Publisher. Princed in the United States of America. For infoimation address Hyperion, 77 West 66th Street, New Yoik, New York 10023-6298.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data ISBN 1-4013-0134-7

Hyperion books are available for special promotions and piemiums. For deuiis conuct Michael Rentas, Manager, Inventory and Premium Sales, Hyperion, 77 West 66th Street, 11th floor, New York, New York 10023, or call 212-456-0133.

1 IRST EDITION

This book is dedicated to my amazing daughter, Kelly: keeper of the sacred DNA, citizen of the universe, and one of America’s few really good Buddhist poker players.

Major funding for this book was made possible by deliberately starving a family of four in Tennessee.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Everlasting thanks to my editor, Gretchen Young, who withstood a last barrage of changes and pulled everything together. She also did an outstanding job protecting me from certain evil people in the publishing company who were jealous of my nice teeth and never stopped plotting against me.

All love to my troll-mate, the sweet Sara Jane.

uOf course the people don’t want war. But after all, it’s the leaders of the country who determine the policy, and it’s always a simple matter to drag the people along whether it’s a democracy, a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism, and exposing the country to greater danger.”

HERMANN GORING AT THE NUREMBERG TRIALS

“All tears are the same.”

IRISH WOMAN

uSo little time. So little to do.”

OSCAR LEVANT

“The main obligation is to amuse yourself.”

S. J. PERELMAN

“Today his another day. Time to play.”

SALLY WADE

PREFACE

I’m an outsider by choice, but not truly. It’s the unpleasantness of the system that keeps me out. I’d rather be in, in a good system. That’s where my discontent comes from: being forced to choose to stay outside.

My advice: Just keep movin’ straight ahead. Every now and then you find yourself in a different place.

George’s Holiday Message

Since this book comes out in the fall, I’d like to take advantage of this early opportunity to wish all of you an enjoyable Christmas season and a happy New Year filled with good fortune. Of course, I realize this can’t happen for everyone. Some of you are going to die next year, and others will be crippled and maimed in accidents, perhaps even completely paralyzed. Still others will be stricken with diseases that can’t be cured, or will be horribly scarred in fires. And let’s not forget the robberies and rapesthere’ll be lots of them. Therefore, many of you will not get to enjoy the happy and fortunate New Year I’m wishing for you. So just try to do the best you can.

A Note of Appreciation

FROM THE DESK OF:

–sS

SPOT WADE

On the occasion of the publication of his new book, When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops?, I want to wish the author good luck and let the readers know that as my rep and personal assistant hired to deny rumors of my marriage and subsequent same-sex divorce to Sir Elton Johns dog, Arthur, and how now I’m an expectant dadGeorge Carlin was easy to woik with and followed instructions wellalthough he was often tardy, with lame excuses like “other things to do.”

Similar to that of a cocker spaniel, who wants nothing’ more than our complete and undivided attention, his personality is pleasant, well-tolerated, and meets with my approvalexcept for the time when, like Jesus, he forgot to bi ing the pork chops. But now’s not the time to dwell on food. Well. . . maybe it is.

At any rate, I’m proud that one of my employeesespecially you, Mr. Carlinhas demonstrated that you’re more than just a flash in the pan, as is so often the case with seared tuna. And by the wayas long as were still talkin’ about foodregardin’ Jesus bringin’ the pork chops, lemme know when they finally arrive. Well cat them religiously, and enjoy a fine glass of

wine.

What are you lookin’ at?

him

WHEN WILL

JESUS

BRING THE PORK CHOPS?

A MODERN MAN

I’m a modern man, digital and smoke-free; a man for the millennium.

A diversified, multicultural,

post-modern deconstructionist;

politically, anatomically and ecologically incorrect.

I’ve been uplinked and downloaded, I’ve been inputted and outsourced. I know the upside of downsizing, I know the downside of upgrading.

I’m a high-tech lowlife.

A cutting-edge, state-ofthe-art,

bi-coastal multi-tasker,

and I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond.

I’m new-wave, but I’m old-school; and my inner child is outward-bound.

I’m a hot-wired, heat-seeking, warm-hearted cool customer; voice-activated and biodegradable.

I interface with my database;

my database is in cyberspace;

so I’m interactive, I’m hyperactive,

and from time to time I’m radioactive.

Behind the eight ball, ahead of the curve, ridin’ the wave, dodgin the bullet, pushin’ the envelope.

I’m on point, on task, on message, and off drugs.

I’ve got no need for coke and speed; I’ve got no urge to binge and purge.

I’m in the moment, on the edge, over the top, but under the radar.

A high-concept, low-profile, medium-range ballistic missionary.

A street-wise smart bomb. A top-gun bottom-feeder.

I wear power ties, I tell power lies, I take power naps, I run victory laps.

I’m a totally ongoing, big-foot, slam-dunk rainmaker with a pro-active outreach.

A raging workaholic, a working rageaholic; out of rehab and in denial.

I’ve got a personal trainer, a personal shopper, a personal assistant, and a personal agenda.

You can’t shut me up; you cant dumb me down.

Cause I’m tireless, and I’m wireless. Fm an alpha-male on beta-blockers.

I’m a nonbeliever, I’m an overachiever; Laid-back and fashion-forward. Up-front, down-home; low-rent, high-maintenance.

I’m super-sized, long-lasting, high-definition, fast-acting, oven-ready and built to last.

A hands-on, footloose, knee-jerk head case;

prematurely posttraumatic,

and I have a love child who sends me hate-mail

But Tm feeling, I’m caring, I’m healing, I’m sharing. A supportive, bonding, nurturing primary-care giver.

My output is down, but my income is up. I take a short position on the long bond, and my revenue stream has its own cash flow.

I read junk mail, I eat junk food,

I buy junk bonds, I watch trash sports.

I’m gender-specific, capital-intensive, user-friendly and lactose-intolerant.

I like rough sex; I like tough love. I use the f-word in my email. And the software on my hard drive is hard-coreno soft porn.

I bought a microwave at a mini-mall. I bought a mini-van at a mega-store. I eat fast food in the slow lane.

I’m toll-free, bite-size, ready-to-wear, and I come in all sizes.

A fully equipped, factory-authorized, hospital-tested, clinically proven, scientifically formulated medical miracle.

I’ve been pre-washed, pre-cooked, preheated, pre-screened, pie-approved, prepackaged, post-dated, freeze-dried, double-wrapped and vacuum-packed.

And … I have unlimited broadband capacity.

I’m a rude dude, but I’m the real deal. Lean and mean.

Cocked, locked and ready to rock; rough, tough and hard to bluff.

I take it slow, I go with the flow;

I ride with the tide, I’ve got glide in my stride.

Drivin’ and movin’, sailin’ and spinnin’; jivin’ and groovin’, wailin’ and winnin’.

I don’t snooze, so I don’t lose. I keep the pedal to the metal

and the rubber on the road.

I party hearty, and lunchtime is crunch time.

I’m hangin1 in, there ain’t no doubt; and I’m hangin tough. Over and out.

EUPHEMISMS: It’s a Whole New Language

Euphemistic language turns up in many areas of American life in a variety of situations. Not all euphemisms are alike, but they have one thing in common: They obscure meaning rather than enhance it; they shade the truth. But they exist for various reasons.

Sometimes they simply replace a word that makes people uncomfortable. For instance, the terms white meat, dark meat and drumstick came into use because in Victorian times people didn’t like to mention certain body parts. No one at the dinner table really wanted to hear Uncle Herbert say, “Never mind the thighs, Margaret, let me have one of those nice, juicy breasts. “It would’ve made them uncomfortable.

And at the same time, for the same reason, belly became stomach. But even stomach sounded too intimate, so they began saying tummy. It’s actually a bit sad.

I first became aware of euphemisms when I was nine years old. I was in the living room with my mother and my aunt Lil when I mentioned that Lil had a mole on her face. My mother was quick to point out that Lil didn’t have a mole, she had a beauty mark.

That confused me because, looking at Lil, the beauty mark didn’t seem to be working. And it confused me further, because my uncle John also had a brown thing on his face, and it was clearly not a beauty mark. And so on that day, I discovered that on some people what appeared to be moles were actually beauty marks. And as it turned out, they were the same people whose laugh lines looked a lot like crow’s-feet.

By the way, that whole beauty-mark scam worked so well that some women routinely began using eyebrow pencils to apply fake beauty marksa “fake mole’ being something no self-respecting woman would ever think of giving herself. Somehow, I can’t imagine Elizabeth Taylor turning to Joan Crawford and saying, “Lend me your eyebrow pencil, Joanie, I’m gonna put a fake mole on my face.”

By the way, it was only a few years after the Aunt Lil incident that I took comfort in the fact that some people apparently thought my ugly pimples were nothing more than minor skin blemishes.

Another role euphemisms play is to simply put a better face on things, to dress up existing phrases that sound too negative. Nonprofit became not-for-profit, because nonprofit sounded too much as though someone didn’t know what they were doing. Not-for-profit makes it clear that there was never any intention of making a profit in the first place.

But some words that are euphemized aren’t even vaguely negative, they re merely considered too ordinary. For that reason, many things that used to be free are now complimentary. Asking the hotel clerk if the newspapers are free makes you sound like a mooch, but “Are the newspapers complimentary?’ allows you to retain some small bit of dignity. This is the reason some hotels offer their guests complimentary continental breakfasts, while others give their customers free doughnuts.

If you’re one who would enjoy a closer look at euphemisms, you 11 find a

number of sections in the book that will interest you. I broke the euphemisms into segments, because they play such a large and varied role in American speech. And I call it The New Language, because it’s certainly new to me; I know I didn’t grow up with it. And that’s my larger point: that it’s gotten worse over time. There were probably a few early signs I noticed, but 1 knew the problem was getting serious when I began to hear ordinary people refer to ideas as concepts. More to come.

STIFF UPPER LIP, YOU KNOW

Imagine two different commercial airliners taking long, fatal plunges directly into the ground from high altitudes. One is a British Airways plane filled with staid English diplomats and upper-class landed gentry. The other plane is Alitalia, filled with uneducated Sicilian, Greek and Turkish peasants. As the two planes dive toward certain destruction, which one do you think will have the louder screaming and the more colorful praying, cursing and blasphemy? You get one guess. Hint: It isn’t the British plane.

Eye Blaster: Get One Now

Are your eyes dry and itchy? It’s possible you may have dry, itchy eyes. Don’t take a chance. Call now for Eye Blaster, a special, self-powered unit that blasts hot, refreshing steam directly into the eyes to relieve symptoms fast. Just plug in the Eye Blaster and wait forty-five minutes for full heat and steam pressure to build up. Then blast the scalding hot steam directly into your eyes for thirty to forty minutes. Submerge your head immediately in ice water for fifteen

minutes, then repeat the steam treatment. Repeat these steps seven times and then take a breather. Do not use more than fifteen times in one twenty-four-hour period. Children under five should not use Eye Blaster unsupervised. When using on pets, tie pet to a chair before blasting. Safe for old people. Doctor approved, but not eye doctors. Call now.

HAND ME MY PURSE

Boxing is an activity in which each of two men, by delivering a series of repeated, sharp blows to the head, attempts to render the other senseless, leaving him lying on the floor, unable to act rationally, defend himself or even stand up. If one of the two men is knocked down and beaten into an only partially blank and helpless mental state, the other is made to stand aside and the contest is halted momentarily, while the damaged man regains just enough strength to stand up and have the beating continueto the point where he is again lying on the floor, this time completely immobile and functionless. Afterward, the two men embrace in a display of good sportsmanship.

REMEMBER YOUR UNCLE JOHN?

Hi Billy. I’m Uncle John. I came up to say goodnight. You remember your Uncle John, don’t you? You remember the time I took you down to the beach and we set the hot dog stand on fire and three people died? Wasn’t that fun? Remember run-nin’ away from the police? And how we hid in the sewer and Uncle John got poopoo all over him? And he wiped it on your coat? You remember? And then I took you to the bar and got drunk and vomited on the jukebox? And sparks started

flyin’ out of the jukebox and a fire started? And all the people were screamin’? Remember that? Remember the screamin? And the ambulances? Wasn’t that fun?

And do you remember that other time? The time I took you to the circus? The lion got loose and ate a monkey? Wasn’t that fun? And they had to kill the lion? And the monkeys got real sad, so they had to kill the monkeys, too? Wasn’t that fun? And then the man fell off the trapeze and smashed into the ground, and they had to kill him? And all the other trapeze people got real sad and they had to kill them too? Hah? Wasn’t that fun?

Why are you cryin’, Billy? Please don’t cry. If you stop cryin’, 111 take you to the rodeo. Wouldn’t that be fun? Maybe someone will get trampled, or gored. They we got horsies and cows, too, you know. Maybe they’ll have to kill a horsie. Or a cow. And if they kill a cow, maybe we’ll get to eat him in a hamburger. Wouldn’t that be fun? Please don’t cry.

Remember the time you fell outta my car? Remember, you were lookin out the window, and we went around a corner real fast to keep from hittin’ that lady? And you went flyin’ out the window and hit the pole, head first? And the doctor had to sew your head up with a big needle? I’ve got a boat now, Billy. You wanna go out on my boat? I promise I’ll be careful. Are you asleep yet? Billy? Please stop cryin’.

COUNT THE SUPERFLUOUS REDUNDANT PLEONASTIC TAUTOLOGIES

My fellow countrymen, I speak to you as coequals, knowing you are deserving of the honest truth. And let me warn you in advance, my subject matter concerns a serious crisis caused by an event in my past history: the execution-style killing of a security guard on a delivery truck. At that particular point in time,

I found myself in a deep depression, making mental errors which seemed as though they might threaten my future plans. I am not over-exaggerating.

I needed a new beginning, so I decided to pay a social visit to a personal friend with whom I share the same mutual objectives and who is one of the most unique individuals I have ever personally met. The end result was an unexpected surprise. When I reiterated again to her the fact that I needed a fresh start, she said I was exactly right; and, as an added plus, she came up with a final solution that was absolutely perfect.

Based on her past experience, she felt we needed to join together in a common bond for a combined total of twenty-four hours a day, in order to find some new initiatives. What a novel innovation! And, as an extra bonus, she presented me with the free gift of a tuna fish. Right away I noticed an immediate positive improvement. And although my recovery is not totally complete, the sum total is I feel much better now knowing I am not uniquely alone.

THE CONTROL FREAKS

Hello. We’re the ones who control your lives. We make the decisions that affect all of you. Isn’t it interesting to know that those who run your lives would have the nerve to tell you about it in this manner? Suffer, you fools. We know everything you do, and we know where you go. What do you think the cameras are for? And the global-positioning satellites? And the Social Security numbers? You belong to us. And it can’t be changed. Sign your petitions, walk your picket lines, bring your lawsuits, cast your votes, and write those stupid letters to whomever you please; you won’t change a thing. Because we control your lives. And we have plans for you. Go back to sleep.

THEY CAME FROM OUT OF THE SKY

I find it discouragingand a bit depressingwhen I notice the unequal treatment afforded by the media to UFO believers on the one hand, and on the other, to those who believe in an invisible supreme being who inhabits the sky. Especially as the latter belief applies to the whole Jesus-Messiah-Son-of-God fable.

You may have noticed that, in the media, UFO believers are usually referred to as buffs, a term used to diminish and marginalize them by relegating them to the ranks of hobbyists and mere enthusiasts. They are made to seem like kooks and quaint dingbats who have the nerve to believe that, in an observable universe of trillions upon trillions of stars, and most likely many hundreds of billions of potentially inhabitable planets, some of those planets may have produced life-forms capable of doing things that we cant do.

On the other hand those who believe in an eternal, all-powerful being, a being who demands to be loved and adored unconditionally and who punishes and rewards according to his whims are thought to be worthy, upright, credible people. This, in spite of the large numbers of believers who are clearly close-minded fanatics.

To my way of thinking, there is every bit as much evidence for the existence of UFOs as there is for the existence of God. Probably far more. At least in the case of UFOs there have been countless taped and filmedand, by the way, unexplainedsightings from all over the world, along with documented radar evidence seen by experienced military and civilian radar operators.

This does not even begin to include the widespread testimony of not only highly trained, experienced military and civilian pilots who are selected for their jobs, in part, for their above-average eyesight and mental stability, but also of equally well-trained, experienced law-enforcement officers. Such pilots and law-enforcement people are known to be serious, sober individuals who

would have quite a bit to lose were they to be associated with anything resembling kooky, outlandish beliefs. Nonetheless, they have taken the risk of revealing their experiences because they are convinced they have seen something objectively real that they consider important.

All of these accounts are ignored by the media.

Granted, the world of UFO-belief has its share of kooks, nuts and fringe people, but have you ever listened to some of these religious true-believers? Have you ever heard of any extreme, bizarre behavior and outlandish claims associated with religious zealots? Could any of them be considered kooks, nuts or dingbats? A fair person would have to say yes.

But the marginal people in these two groups don’t matter in this argument. What matters is the prejudice and superstition built into the media coverage of the two sets of beliefs. One is treated reverently and accepted as received truth, the other is treated laughingly and dismissed out of hand.

As evidence of the above premise, I offer one version of a typical television news story heard each year on the final Friday of Lent:

“Today is Good Friday, observed by Christians worldwide as a day that commemorates the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, whose death redeemed the sins of mankind.”

Here is the way it should be written:

“Today is Good Friday, observed worldwide by Jesus buffs as the day on which the popular, bearded cultural figure, sometimes referred to as The Messiah, was allegedly crucified andaccording to legenddied for mankind’s so-called sins. Today kicks off a ‘holy’ weekend that culminates on Easter Sunday, when, it is widely believed, this dead ’savior’who also, by the way, claimed to be the son of a sky-dwelling, invisible being known as Godmysteriously ‘rose from the dead.’

“According to the legend, by volunteering to be killed and actually going

through with it, Jesus saved every person who has ever livedand every person who ever will livefrom an eternity of suffering in a fiery region popularly known as hell, providingso the story goesthat the person to be ’saved’ firmly believes this rather fanciful tale.”

That would be an example of unbiased news reporting. Don’t wait around for it to happen. The aliens will land first.

THE TWO COMMANDMENTS

I have a problem with the Ten Commandments. Here it is: Why are there ten? We don’t need that many. I think the list of commandments was deliberately and artificially inflated to get it up to ten. It’s clearly a padded list.

Here’s how it happened: About five thousand years ago, a bunch of religious and political hustlers got together to figure out how they could control people and keep them in line. They knew people were basically stupid and would believe anything they were told, so these guys announced that God God personallyhad given one of them a list of ten commandments that he wanted everyone to follow. They claimed the whole thing took place on a mountaintop, when no one else was around.

But let me ask you something: When these guys were sittin’ around the tent makin’ all this up, why did they pick ten? Why ten? Why not nine, or eleven? I’ll tell you why. Because ten sounds important. Ten sounds official. They knew if they tried eleven, people wouldn’t take them seriously. People would say, “What’re you kiddin’ me? The Eleven Commandments? Get the fuck outta here!”

But ten! Ten sounds important. Ten is the basis for the decimal system; it’s a decade. It’s a psychologically satisfying number: the top ten; the ten most wanted; the ten best-dressed. So deciding on ten commandments was clearly a

marketing decision. And it’s obviously a bullshit list. In truth, it’s a political document, artificially inflated to sell better.

I’m going to show you how you can reduce the number of commandments and come up with a list that’s a bit more logical and realistic. We’ll start with the first three, and I’ll use the Roman Catholic version because those are the ones I was fed as a little boy.

I AM THE LORD THY GOD, THOU SHALT NOT HAVE STRANGE GODS BEFORE ME.

THOU SHALT NOT TAKE THE NAME OF THE LORD THY GOD IN VAIN.

THOU SHALT KEEP HOLY THE SABBATH.

Okay, right off the bat, the first three commandmentspure bullshit. “Sabbath day,” “Lord’s name,” ’strange gods.” Spooky language. Spooky language designed to scare and control primitive people. In no way does superstitious mumbo jumbo like this apply to the lives of intelligent, civilized humans in the twenty-first century. You throw out the first three commandments, and you re down to seven.

HONOR THY FATHER AND MOTHER.

This commandment is about obedience and respect for authority; in other words it’s simply a device for controlling people. The truth is, obedience and respect should not be granted automatically. They should be earned. They should be based on the parents’ (or the authority figure’s) performance. Some parents deserve respect. Most of them don’t. Period. We’re down to six.

Now, in the interest of logicsomething religion has a really hard time withI’m going to skip around the list a little bit:

THOU SHALT NOT STEAL.

THOU SHALT NOT BEAR FALSE WITNESS.

Stealing and lying. Actually, when you think about it, these two commandments cover the same sort of behavior: dishonesty. Stealing and lying. So we don’t need two of them. Instead, we combine these two and call it “Thou shalt not be dishonest.” Suddenly we’re down to five.

And as long as we’re combining commandments I have two others that belong together:

THOU SHALT NOT COMMIT ADULTERY.

THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOR’S WIFE.

Once again, these two prohibit the same sort of behavior; in this case, marital infidelity. The difference between them is that coveting takes place in the mind. And I don’t think you should outlaw fantasizing about someone else’s wife, otherwise what’s a guy gonna think about when he’s flogging his dong?

But marital fidelity is a good idea, so I suggest we keep the idea and call this commandment “Thou shalt not be unfaithful.” Suddenly we’re down to four.

And when you think about it further, honesty and fidelity are actually parts of the same overall value. So, in truth, we could combine the two honesty commandments with the two fidelity commandments, and, using positive language instead of negative, call the whole thing “Thou shalt always be honest and faithful.” And now we’re down to three.

THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOR’S GOODS.

This one is just plain stupid. Coveting your neighbors goods is what keeps the economy going: Your neighbor gets a vibrator that plays “O Come All Ye Faithful,” you want to get one, too. Coveting creates jobs. Leave it alone.

You throw out coveting and you’re down to two now: the big, combined honesty/fidelity commandment, and the one we haven’t mentioned yet:

THOU SHALT NOT KILL.

Murder. The Fifth Commandment. But, if you give it a little thought, you realize that religion has never really had a problem with murder. Not really. More people have been killed in the name of God than for any other reason.

To cite a few examples, just think about Irish history, the Middle East, the Crusades, the Inquisition, our own abortion-doctor killings and, yes, the World Trade Center to see how seriously religious people take Thou Shalt Not Kill. Apparently, to religious folksespecially the truly devoutmurder is negotiable. It just depends on who’s doing the killing and who’s getting killed.

And so, with all of this in mind, folks, I offer you my revised list of the Two Commandments:

First:

THOU SHALT ALWAYS BE HONEST AND FAITHFUL, ESPECIALLY TO THE PROVIDER OF THY NOOKIE.

And second:

THOU SHALT TRY REAL HARD NOT TO KILL ANYONE, UNLESS, OF COURSE, THEY PRAY TO A DIFFERENT INVISIBLE AVENGER THAN THE ONE YOU PRAY TO.

Two is all you need, folks. Moses could have carried them down the hill in his pocket. And if we had a list like that, I wouldn’t mind that brilliant judge in Alabama displaying it prominently in his courthouse lobby. As long he included one additional commandment:

THOU SHALT KEEP THY RELIGION TO THYSELF!!!

THE FILTHY, DIRTY NEWS

ANNOUNCER: It’s six o’clock, time for Action-6 News with Leslie Crotchmonger and Dick Hopshteckler. Here’s Leslie with today’s top stories.

L: Good evening. First the headlines:

A giant man shits on Philadelphia.

An old man shows his soiled anus to a waitress at an Olive Garden.

A small dog eats a man’s balls and dies.

A crippled couple is arrested for fucking on a roller coaster.

Now the stories behind the headlines: In Philadelphia today, a giant man dropped his huge pants and squatted over Independence Hall. He then unleashed a …

(Dick reaches over and grabs Leslie’s script.) D: Fuck you, you cunt, you did the headlines.

L: Lick my asshole, you dimwitted prick. My name comes first on the opening announcement.

D: That’s because you blew the news director.

L: At least I didn’t blow a homeless guy who has the siff.

D: Oh yeah? Well, he wouldn’t have the siff if you didn’t fuck him in the Dumpster out back.

L: Eat my box.

D: Not without a gas mask, Dearie.

L: Keep fuckin’ with me, Little Dick, and I’ll tell your wife about the Cub Scouts you went down on.

D: Leslie, the way were acting is crazy. Let’s put all this petty, personal stuff behind us and act like professionals. What do you say?

L: Good idea. I agree.

D: So, what’s coming up at six o’clock?

L: How the fuck should I know? What do you think I am, a fuckin’ psychic?

D: No way! If you were psychic, you would’ve known you were gonna wind up with labia that hang down like satchel handles.

L: Thanks, Dick, that’s real clever. By the way, doesn’t that get to you? Being called Dick?

D: Being called Dick is a lot better than being called Dick Licker.

L: Eat shit, raisin balls! I hope you swallow a turd. Well, folks, that’s it for Action-6News. Don’t miss News at Eleven tonight as Rod Holder interviews a nun who’s been receiving obscene phone calls from a man who says he wants to chew her bush during a funeral mass.

ANNOUNCER: Action-6 News has been brought to you by First Bank, meeting community needs since 1849. First Bank: Experience Out the Ass.

THAT’S THE SPIRIT

I don’t understand these people who call themselves spiritual advisors. Franklin Graham, the unfortunate son of Billy Graham, is George Bush’s spiritual advisor. Bill Clinton had Jesse Jackson.

Here’s the part I don’t understand: How can someone else advise you on your spirit? Isn’t spirit an intensely personal, internal thing? Doesn’t it, by its

very nature, elude definition, much less analysis? What kind of advice could some drone who has devoted his life to the self-deception of religion possibly give you about your spirit? It sounds like a hustle to me.

GUYS CALLED JUNIOR

I have no respect for any man who allows people to call him Junior; I immediately think he’s a chump and a loser. To me, Junior means lower than, lesser than, beneath. Putting “Junior” on a kid’s name is just a way for a father to control and demean his son and prevent him from having an identity of his own. I don’t like that whole cult-of-the-father thing in the first place. But apparently some guys’ self-esteem is just low enough that they accept it. I have no respect for them.