Friday, November 12, 2004

the funny thing about the jurk storr is that no matter how much you write about it the more powerful its super medallion astro rays become and then suddenly you realize that you’re the most powerful being in the known universe, and plus you’re like a major, no, not, forget, shite, here we go again earth people, it’s, like, 3:59 pm the witching hour when you start leaning for the door & you’re rapping shit up (wrapping) and you realize that que sera sera all things being considered equal you have a great life and you stumble upon just balderdashing around on the innernet a pic of bill walton in a san diego clipper uniform and you just know that you have to wait don’t tell them, no, not like that, wait, what are you thinking? Oh well, nae does it matter, have I ever told you that me will be with the clippers and sooner than you think, but it’s all a mystery I’m gonna be their road manager, serially, ok, they don’t know about it yet, but seriously, I’m gonna be like the good luck bird on their shoulder and you just watch even though people will disparage and say yadda yadda the clippers will still march on to victory.

ok I’m watching you again

Only a week promise

I wasn’t meant to have this knowledge

yo something really quick from the erkle brigade society. If the jurk storr calls, call em back and Russell up a bucket of wings if you don’t mind and then don’t ever forget to say please & thank you and all that other crap masterpiece type dillios of whut you have to give regards to on Sunday, goddammmmit, and don’t forget your aunt ethel’s brigade association meeting on Sunday afternoon, um, after the other thing, and then on the NEXT Sunday you have to remember to give great grand dad eddie his action comics #1 what you took in its steel titanium glass magnifying box and displayed it for your middle school classroom as an example of the way things used to be, when a dollar was a quarter and it was sunshine all day, except during that one time when it was snowing on Sunday’s headquarters, you know the time I’m talking about, when it was all deep in that cave, the one whut with, uh, hold on.

Thursday, November 11, 2004

Yup. Well, I have to call this place. But it’s not a have to like dreading dillio, it’s an opportunity knocks kine type frontage acreage association endeavor. Le sigh. & fuck all, that ain’t copyrighted. Fo shizzle. Neither is that.

Just the fact that I think treacher’s response to the sorry everybody site is monolithically hilarious, doesn’t mean I don’t think it’s at its core a cool idea and that it doesn’t tug me heart strings along with prolly inopportunitely my funny bone a little, I mean, shit, we did fuck up, but we didn’t, shit, it’s got me all fucked up in my mental. Fuck it.

Ah yes, you must if you haven’t catch up with all the shit the yossarian had to say before he headed out for army training, and after that? who knows. Genius type shit, fer shure, it’s amazing what someone who truly cares about the state of the world can do. Part of that ideal is what gets me so depressed about this whole national & world dillio, I mean, from my seat, it’s fucked, but who knows if my seat has any kind of view at all? Maybe bush is saving us all, maybe if we hadn’t invaded iraq, we’d all be bubbling cauldrons of std infected canker sores already, saddam’s sons jumpin on our beds and smoking our mescaline. Crazier things have happened.

But, be that as it may, I can only speak from my own perspective, now can’t I? Well, not necessarily, but that’s where I’mma talk from for now, this second, and that being said, fuck, I mean, the shittiest part is that people that care, the dedicated, the ones that are gung ho, are getting fucked the hardest, they’re on the front lines, potentially fighting for some bullshit, while we sit back here, fat & happy, discussing it oh so eloquently.

Meanwhile if popular leftist opinion is even half right, bush sits in the white house counting buckets of cash & oil, I mean, fuck, you could split hairs, which the aforementioned yossarian mentions, all day. So fuck it. Godspeed young man, go forth & be safe & do what you gotta do. We’re all proud as hell. Least I am. Word.

Goddammit now I sound like a numbnut soccer mom slash wolfowitz slash Sandra bernhardt slash jane fonda slash kurt warner slash fox news muthafucka, having my cake, eating it too, and pouring vodka down the spigot to wash that shit down & grease up the pipes. Fuck.

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

It’s quite simple really. The clippers are now the real los angeles basketball team. You heard it here first. Not that it’s the first time I’M saying it, but, alas, nay, better that way, I am the one and only throughout history up to this point, except for those other people, to announce said enunciation with such amazing amount of forthright and fortitude. You’re welcome.

Damn, what an asshanders. Indiana is crying in their soup right now. I’m busting, Jerry, I’m busting! If only you knew the dillie that was scrillied, the jurk storr would undoubtedly call, and I can’t risk that, so I must keep silent for now. You’re welcome.

And the lakers, the once proud, “kobe’s team,” is on the receiving end of an asshanders. This is the award I believe originated by mark & bryan, who besides that aspect of their personality laden radio show on KLOS I didn’t much care for, I mean, they were aight, that’s another story, that shall never be told, you’re welcome, but anyway, asshanders implies, nay, does not imply, but clearly states actually, that you are getting your ass handed to you, and dear Indiana pacers & la lakers, this is occurring in your vicinity.

I need la clipper shoes & la clipper pants to go with my la clipper hat & la clipper shirt (oh wait, sorry, san diego clipper shirt) and then I will be the ultimate lord of all the clipper kingdom and you’ll prolly have to kiss my ring. You’re welcome in advance.

I should erase all this, cuz I explained asshanders, and explaining shit is so 1972. mystery is the modern day equivalent of gold plated esophagi. You can put that in the bank, next to your commemorative james paul getty coin collection.

Monday, November 08, 2004

Ok, here’s whut I’ll do. Oh wait. Ferget that. Ho, how bout those cal bears? Pulled out a squeaker this weekend fa sho. Dang, but ain’t it still good or whut? Oregon was a big test, I mean, they were tied up for 2nd in conference prior to, and, yah, they lost some games, and not highly regarded, etc., beyond pac 10, but still, good team.

Anyway, so now it’s udub and card which should be breezes but the triphammer might be the one at southern Mississippi, the makeup game whut was lost to one of those 87 hurricanes the durrty durrtyy had earlier this year.

So yuppity duppity. And don’t let me ferget to mention that the golden bears of the university of California at Berkeley are still #4 in the BCS but any and all doubters naysaysers need to step to the back and be whut with whupped wit a whuppin stick. For like 10 hours. Straight. Yup.

So and yes the clippers are 2-1 and going up against the defending champs from Detroit tonite at staples center. I am officially predicting a los angeles victory. I mean could officer bird expect anything less?

So I shouldn’t just do the whatevs sports report for you. I mean, you come here for that jack handy shit, right? You know, deeper than atlantis? Other states of mentality? Oh, wait, you don’t? you just come for random ass crapsterpieces? Wait, what’s that? You don’t come here at all? I’m talking to the jinx bathroom society? Well fuck yeah then! Do that bebop like you know so well. Blame it on the bricklayers association. Tell em herb sent ya.

yodel. Now let me start a one million word diatribe on the state of the world, country, and universe.

Oops. Lunchtime.