OK... time for a movie penis thread... in the comments, take a movie title and substitute the word penis for a word in the title... do not repeat a previous penis movie tile... you are only allowed ONE penis movie title per post as we are aiming for the Blogger World Record for comments on a post...
I'll kick it off with a couple so you know what to do!
Very Special THANK YOU to Emperor Darth Misha I and his readers from The Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler. Misha was (and he still is) my favorite blog when I discovered the blogosphere. He and his regular commenters [along with Harvey at Bad Example] were my inspiration to start this dusty little corner of our on-line world.
Thanks for playing the game... we hope you laugh your ass off... and we hope you don't get in trouble at work for fucking around when you should be working!!!!
Help yourself to a couple of brewskis and let the games begin!!!!
MEOW
UPDATE: I've edited the posts with multiple entries and made them single entries - FYI
Blonde Jokes - Most of Which I Hadn't Heard Before
Did you hear about the two blondes who froze to death in a drive-in movie? They went to see "Closed for the Winter."
***************
Why did the blonde resolve to have only 3 children? She heard that one out of every four children born in the world was Chinese
***************
Did you hear about the near-tragedy at the mall? There was a power outage, and twelve blondes were stuck on the escalators for over four hours.
*****************
A blonde was driving home after a game and got caught in a really bad hailstorm. Her car was covered with dents, so the next day she took it to a repair shop. The shop owner saw that she was a blonde, so he decided to have some fun.
He told her just to go home and blow into the tail pipe really hard, and all the dents would pop out.
So, the blonde went home, got down on her hands and knees and started blowing into her tailpipe. Nothing happened. So she blew a little harder, and still nothing happened.
Her roommate, another blonde, came home and said, "What are you doing?" The first blonde told her how the repairman had instructed her to blow into the tail pipe in order to get all the dents to pop out.
The roommate rolled her eyes and said, "Uh, like hello! You need to roll up the windows first."
****************
A blonde went to an eye doctor to have her eyes checked for glasses. The doctor directed her to read various letters with the left eye while covering the right eye. The blonde was so mixed up on which eye was which that the eye doctor, in disgust, took a paper lunch bag with a hole to see through, covered up the appropriate eye and asked her to read the letters. As he did so, he noticed the blonde had tears streaming down her face
"Look," said the doctor, "there's no need to get emotional about getting glasses." "I know," agreed the blonde, "But I kind of had my heart set on wire frames.
****************
A blonde was shopping at a Target Store and came across a silver thermos. She was quite fascinated by it, so she picked it up and brought it over to the clerk to ask what it was. The clerk said, "That's a thermos . . . it keeps some things hot and some things cold" "Wow, said the blonde, "that's amazing. I'm going to buy it!" So she bought the thermos and took it to work the next day. Her boss saw it on her desk.
"What do you have there?" he asked.
"Why, that's a thermos . . . it keeps hot things hot and cold things cold," she replied.
Her boss inquired, "What do you have in it?" The blond replied, "Two popcicles, and some coffee".
***************
A man entered the bus with both of his front pockets full of golf balls, and sat down next to a beautiful (you guessed it) blonde. The puzzled blonde kept looking at him and his bulging pockets.
Finally, after many such glances from her, he said, "It's golf balls".
Nevertheless, the blonde continued to look at him thoughtfully and finally, not being able to contain her curiosity any longer, asked, "Does it hurt as much as tennis elbow?"
1.Beer is always wet. Vagina needs a little work.
One point to BEER
2.Warm beer tastes awful.
One point to VAGINA
3.A really cold beer is satisfying.
One point to BEER
4.If after taking a swig of your favorite beer you find a hair between your teeth, you may vomit.
One point to VAGINA
5. If you get home reeking of beer your wife may get mad, make a scene, kick you out, etc. If you get home reeking of vagina your wife may get mad, kick you out, even leave you. There's definitely apoint to be had here, depending on your point of view and personal circumstances.
I'll just call it a DRAW for the time being.
6. Ten beers in one night and you can't drive home. Ten vaginas in one night and you don't want to drive anywhere.
One point to VAGINA
7. If you have a lot of beer in a public place, your reputation may suffer. If you eat any vagina in public, you become a legend.
One point to VAGINA
8. If a cop stops you and you smell of beer you may get arrested. If you smell of vagina he may buy you a beer.
One point to VAGINA
9. You normally don't find old beer.
One point to BEER
10. Too much beer and you'll think you see flying saucers. Too much vagina and you'll think you've seen God.
One point to VAGINA
11. Ripping off a beer bottle label is boring. Ripping off panties is fun.
One point to VAGINA
12. In most countries there's a tax on beer.
One point to VAGINA
13. If you have another beer the first one never gets pissed off.
One point to BEER
14. You can always be sure if you're the first one to open a bottle or a can.
One point to BEER
15. If you shake beer it'll get all agitated but eventually it settles down.
One point to BEER
16. With beer you always have choice: clear, dark, pilsner, ale, lager, etc.
One point to BEER
17. You always know how much beer is going to cost.
One point to BEER
18. Beer doesn't have a mother.
One point to BEER
19. Beer never expects to be hugged for half an hour after you drink it.
One point to BEER
FINAL SCORE: BEER: 10 VAGINA: 8
That's it! The matter is settled, the clear winner is: BEER
PS: If you are a woman and at this point feel angry, degraded or discriminated against, just remember that Beer would experience none of those feelings, let alone express them.
An extra point for BEER
If you answered yes to any of these questions, ask your doctor or pharmacist about Tequila. Tequila is the safe, natural way to feel better and more confident about yourself and your actions.
Tequila can help ease you out of your shyness and let you tell the world that you're ready and willing to do just about anything.
You will notice the benefits of Tequila almost immediately, and with a regimen of regular doses you can overcome any obstacles that prevent you from living the life you want to live. Shyness and awkwardness will be a thing of the past, and you will discover many talents you never knew you had.
Stop hiding and start living, with Tequila.
Tequila may not be right for everyone.
Women who are pregnant or nursing should not use Tequila.
However, women who wouldn't mind nursing or becoming pregnant are encouraged to try it.
Side effects may include: dizziness, nausea, vomiting, incarceration, erotic lustfulness, loss of motor control, loss of clothing, loss of money, loss of virginity, delusions of grandeur, table dancing, headache, dehydration, dry mouth, and a desire to sing Karaoke and play all-night rounds of Strip Poker, Truth Or Dare, and Naked Twister.
Tammi, Boudicca, & TNT are sitting in a bar. All of them have husbands named Herbey. TNT asks, "If you could name your husband after any soda pop, what would it be?"
Tammi thinks for a minute and says, "Moutain Dew, because he can mount and do me anytime."
Boudicca thinks for awhile and finally says, "7-Up, because he has seven inches and can always get it up."
TNT thinks for a long time and finally says, "Jack Daniels."
The other ladies look at her with a confused look and say, "Wait a minute, Jack Daniels is a hard liquor."
1 cup of water
1 tsp. baking soda
1 cup of sugar
1 tsp. salt
1 cup of brown sugar
lemon juice
4 large eggs
1 cup nuts
2 cups of dried fruit
1 bottle Jose Cuervo Tequila
Sample the Cuervo to check quality. Take a large bowl, check the Cuervo again, to be sure it is of the highest quality. Pour one level cup and drink. Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar. Beat again. At this point it's best to make sure the Cuervo is still OK, Try another cup...just in case.
Turn off the mixerer thingy. Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit. Pick the frigging fruit off floor. Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers just pry it loose with a drewscriver. Sample the Cuervo to check for tonsisticity.
Next, sift two cups of salt, or something. Who giveshz a sheet. Check the Jose Cuervo. Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find. Greash the oven.
Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over. Don't forget to beat off the turner. Finally, throw the bowl through the window, finish the Cose Juervo and make sure to put the stove in the dishwasher.
When four of Santa's elves got sick, and the trainee elves did not produce the toys as fast as the regular ones, Santa was beginning to feel the pressure of being behind schedule.
Then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her Mom was coming to visit. This stressed Santa even more.
When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two had jumped the fence and were out, heaven knows where.
More stress.
Then when he began to load the sleigh one of the boards cracked, and the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered the toys.
So, frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of apple cider and a shot of rum. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered that the elves had hidden the liquor, and there was nothing to drink.
In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider pot, and it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw end of the broom.
Just then the doorbell rang, and irritable Santa trudged to the door. He opened the door, and there was a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.
The angel said, very cheerfully, "Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn't it a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?"
And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree
I'm happy to inform you that the company Christmas Party will take place on
December 23, starting at noon, in the private function room at the Grill
House.
There will be a cash bar and plenty of drinks! We'll have a small band
playing traditional carols ....... feel free to sing along!
And don't be surprised if our CEO shows up dressed as Santa Claus!
A Christmas tree will be lit at 1.00pm.
Exchange of gifts among employees can be done at that time; however, no
gift should be over $10 to make the giving of gifts easy for everyone's
pockets.
This gathering is only for employees! Our CEO will make a special
announcement at that time!
Merry Christmas to you and your family.
Patty
FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director
TO: All Employees
DATE: 2 October 2005
RE: Holiday Party
In no way was yesterday's memo intended to exclude our Jewish employees.
We recognize that Chanukah is an important holiday, which often coincides
with Christmas, though unfortunately not this year. However, from now on
we're calling it our "Holiday Party". The same policy applies to any other
employees who are not Christians or those still celebrating Reconciliation
Day.
There will be no Christmas tree present, No Christmas carols sung. We will
have other types of music for your enjoyment.
Happy now?
Happy Holidays to you and your family.
Patty
FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director
TO: All Employees
DATE: 3 October 2005
RE: Holiday Party
Regarding the note I received from a member of Alcoholics Anonymous
requesting a non-drinking table................ you didn't sign your name.
I'm happy to accommodate this request but if I put a sign on a table that
reads, "AA Only", you wouldn't be anonymous anymore. How am I supposed to
handle this?
Forget about the gifts exchange, no gifts exchange are allowed since the
union members feel that $10 is too much money and executives believe $10 is
a little chintzy.
NO GIFTS EXCHANGE WILL BE ALLOWED.
Patty
FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director
TO: All Employees
DATE: 4 October 2005
RE: Holiday Party
What a diverse group we are! I had no idea that December 20 begins the
Muslim holy month of Ramadan, which forbids eating and drinking during
daylight hours. There goes the party!
Seriously we can appreciate how a luncheon at this time of the year does
not accommodate our Muslim employees' beliefs. Perhaps the Grill House can
hold off on serving your meal until the end of the party - or else package
everything for you to take it home in little foil doggy baggy. Will that
work?
Meanwhile, I've arranged for members of Weight Watchers to sit farthest
from the dessert buffet and pregnant women will get the table closest to
the restrooms.
Gays are allowed to sit with each other. Lesbians do not have to sit with
Gay men, each will have their own table. Yes, there will be a flower
arrangement for the Gay men's table.
To the person asking permission to cross-dress, no cross-dressing allowed
though.
We will have booster seats for short people. Low-fat food will be available
for those on a diet. We cannot control the salt used in the food, we
suggest for those people with high blood pressure to taste first.
There will be fresh fruits for Diabetics, the restaurant cannot supply "No
sugar" desserts. Sorry!
Did I miss anything?!?!?
Patty
FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director
TO: All fucking Employees
DATE: 5 October 2005
RE: The fucking Holiday Party
Vegetarian assholes I've had it with you people!!! We're going to keep this
at the Grill House whether you like it or not, so you can sit quietly at
the table furthest from the "grill of death", as you so quaintly put it,
and you'll get your fucking salad bar, including organic tomatoes. But you
know, tomatoes have feelings too. They
scream when you slice them. I've heard them scream. I'm hearing them scream
right NOW!
I hope you all have a rotten holiday! Drive drunk and die.
The Bitch from HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
FROM: Joan Bishop, Acting Human Resources Director
TO: All Employees
DATE: 6 October 2005
RE: Patty Lewis and Holiday Party
I'm sure I speak for all of us in wishing Patty Lewis a speedy recovery and
I'll continue to forward your cards to her
In the meantime, Management has decided to cancel our Holiday Party and
give everyone the afternoon of the 23rd off with full pay.
Madfish came home from work, sat down in his favorite chair, turned on the TV, and said to his life partnerwife "roommate", Herby, "Quick, bring me a beer before it starts!"
Herby looked a little puzzled, but brought him a beer.
When Madfish finished it, he said, "Quick, bring me another beer." "It's gonna start." This time Herby looked a little angry, but brought him a beer.
When it was gone, Madfish said, "Quick, another beer before it starts."
"That's it!" Herby blows his top, "You bastard! You waltz in here, flop your fat ass down, don't even say hello to me and then expect me to run around like your slave. Don't you realize that I cook and clean and wash and iron all day long?"
I hope this will again confirm that the most important information in >your life won't come from a teacher, the library or the Internet. It comes from a mentor, and on a very personal level.
My long-passed grandfather's birthday is coming up, and for me it is a time to reminisce. We used to take long walks and drives together. He would make special trips to pick me up so I could spend weekends with him.
I was young when he died. If he were living today and sharing his pearls of wisdom, I'd be a better man. Those gems were well and good, but the one I remember best, the jewel in the crown of grand fatherly advice came from him when I was only 12.
We were sitting in a park, watching children with their mothers enjoying a beautiful spring day. He told me that one day, I'd find a woman and start my own family. Then he said, "And be sure you marry a woman with small hands."
Harvey (n): a sour, senile, living emptiness; a meaningless void; a disease; a puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meat slapper; a half-wit reminding me of drool; deficient in all that lends character; having the personality of wall paper; dank and filthy; asinine and benighted; the source of all unpleasantness. [synonym: DickHead] "Don't be such a Harvey!"
Harvey (v): To furiously masturbate [synonym: Spank the Monkey] "What are you doing in the bathroom so long, young man... Harveying?"
So in all fairness, I guess we should do a What is a Madfish? comment party.
Madfish (n): A crotchety, cantankerous old man - "The Madfish sat in the rocking chair on his porch, with his shotgun - loaded with rock salt - laying across his lap as he waited for "those damn punk kids" to try some mischief"
Madfish (v): To urinate in a beverage before serving it to an unsuspecting victim - "That bastard Madfished my beer!"
Mudfish Billie bullshitted on August 05, 2004 at 10:15 AM
3
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A guy walks into a bar and sits down. After a few minutes, he starts dialing on the back of his hand as if it's a telephone. He then flips his hand over and starts talking into his palm. The bartender walks over and tells the guy it's a tough neighborhood and he doesn't need any trouble from weirdos.
"You don't understand," the man says. "I'm very high tech. I've had a phone installed in my hand because I was tired of carrying a cell."
"Prove it!"
So the guy dials up a number and presents his hand to the bartender. The bartender talks into the hand and carries on a brief conversation.
"That's incredible," says the bartender. "I would never have believed it!"
"Yeah," says the guy. "I can keep in touch with my broker, my wife, you name it. By the way, where is the men's room?"
The bartender directs him to the men's room. The guy goes in and five, ten, twenty minutes go by. Fearing the worst given the violence in the neighborhood, the bartender goes into the men's room. The guy is spread-eagled against the wall. His pants are pulled down and he has a roll of toilet paper shoved up his butt.
"Oh my god!" says the bartender. "Did the locals rob you? Are you hurt?"
The guy casually turns around and says, "No, I'm OK. I'm just waiting for a fax."
Matty O'Blackfive, in the local pub, hoisted his beer and said, "Here's to spending the rest of me life, between the legs of me wife!"
That won him the top prize for the best toast of the night! He went home and told his wife, Mary, "I won the prize for the best toast of the night."
She said, "Aye, what was your toast?" Matty said, "Here's to spending the rest of me life, sitting in church beside me wife." "Oh that is very nice indeed, Matty!" Mary said.
The next day, Mary ran into one of Matty's toasting buddies, Harvey, on the street corner. The man chuckled leeringly and said, "Matty won the prize, the other night, with a toast about you, Mary."
She said, "Aye and I was a bit surprised me self! You know, he's only been there twice! Once he fell asleep, and the other time I had to pull him by the ears to make him come.
A guy walks into a bar and asks for three beers. The bartender puts them up and then watches the guy go through a peculiar ritual. "Happy Birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday" Each time he says the word he drinks the beer. Then he pays and walks out.
One year later he enters the bar again and orders the same thing. The bartender watches him go through the same ritual. Curious, he asks the bloke why.
"Well" the guy says, "I have a friend in Ireland and a friend in Australia. We have our birthdays on the same day. We can't be together so we have agreed that on this day we will each go into our local pub and have a round of drinks for each other. We have been doing this for 55 years since we were 18."
The next year the man comes in and asks the bartender for two beers. The bartender, a bit taken aback, places two beers in front of the guy and watches him say "happy birthday, happy birthday!"
The bartender asks "So which one died?"
"No one."
"But you only ordered two drinks!"
"Yeah, well, I've given up drinking."
[Today just happens to be MY birthday... I'm so old, I'm fartin dust!]
A man walks into a bar and tells the bartender he dares have only one beer. The bartender asks him what the problem is, and he replies "The last time I came in drunk at 3:00 A.M. my wife was so bent out of shape we damn neared ended up in divorce court."
The bartender replies "I'll you what, all you have to do is give her an extra special treat and she'll forget her little difficulty with you."
"Such as?" asks the man.
"Do you ever go down on her?"
The man replies, "I really can't bring myself to do that, and, in fact, the mere thought of it makes me sick to my stomach!"
"I'd get over it if I were you," replies the bartender. "Just think, she'll be so grateful and no matter how loaded you are you won't be all stressed-out trying to keep it up and end up resorting to soft-packing."
"I'll give it a try. And now, get me a double Manhattan!"
Our hero stumbles in the house blind-drunk and having a hard time containing his guts. "I'll get this over quick and hope not to upchuck all over her." he thinks. "I don't EVEN want to see it," he tells himself and so goes into the bedroom without even turning on the light and dives straight under the covers at the foot of the bed. The response is incredible!
Our hero's response is an incredible wave of nausea so he rushes into the bathroom where he sees his wife sitting on the toilet taking a tinkle.
"I don't know how you beat me in here," he says, "but be quick! I've got an emergency!"
"Shut up you damn drunk," she hisses. "Your mother's in there trying to sleep!!"
A man walks into a bar and sits down and orders a drink. He then notices a jar that is full of money. The man asks the bartender what the jar is for.
The bartender then says that he has a donkey in the back room and "if anyone can make him him laugh they win the money. If not they owe me 100 dollars."
The man says, "I can do it!" So he goes into the back room and about 5 minutes later the bartender hears the donkey laughing out loud. The man walks out and takes the money from the jar, thanks the bartender, and leaves.
About a month later the man comes back into the bar and there is a new jar of money. The man asks the bartender what the new jar of money is for.
The bartender looks at the man and says, "if you can make the donkey cry the money is yours, if not you owe me 100 dollars." The man says, "ok I'll do it!"
He walks into the back room and about 2 minutes goes by when the bartender hears the donkey crying. The man walks out and grabs the money out of the jar, but before the man leaves the bartender asks, "How did you make the donkey laugh?"
The man looks at the bartender and says, "Well the first time I told the donkey that I had a bigger pecker then he did".
A drunk walks into a bar and notices a banner that says "win $10,000; ask bartender for details".
He asks and the bartender says "well, you see that man at the end of the bar?" The drunk looks over and sees a huge, burley dude. The bartender says "if you can knock him out with one punch, you go to the second step...
The door right behind that big guy opens into a room containing an alligator with a sore tooth. if you can pull his tooth and come out alive, you move on to step three...
Those stairs next to the door go up to an eighty year old hooker's apartment. She has never been satisfied by any man. if you can satisfy her, you win the money!"
The drunk says ok and orders a double shot of whiskey. He belts that down, walks to the end of the bar and POW!, knocks the big dude out. He orders another double, belts it down, walks to the door, steps inside and closes the door. BAM, CRASH, GROWL is all the bartender and patrons can hear for a few minutes and then total silence. Five minutes later, the drunk walks out of the room bloody, clothes shredded.
He orders another double, drinks it and says "o.k., where's the hooker with the sore tooth?".
In honor of the discovery of a new planet in our solar system, here are some jokes:
What does an astronomer use to hold up his pants?
Where does an astronomer go for a higher education?
Did you hear the joke about astronomy?
How do you keep astronomers clean?
Answer the questions in the comments if you think you are clever enough... I'll acknowledge the correct answers as posted or post the correct answers tomorrow pm in the comments.
Some time during the 300's BCE, Aristotle of Greece created an Earth-centered model of the universe that used 56 concentric spheres. The earth, sun, moon, and planets occupied different spheres. The outermost sphere was where the stars were located. The model of the universe where the Earth rotated around the Sun was first developed by Aristarchus of Greece around 300 BCE.
Around the year 150, Ptolemy of Greece perfected a view of the universe with Earth at it's center. Ptolemly's Earth-centered universe was accepted for nearly 1500 years.
In the early 1500's, Nicolas Copernicus of Poland developed a model of the universe where the Sun was the center of the universe
Galileo was jailed in the 1600's for supporting Copernicus' idea that Earth was not the center of the universe and actually rotated around the Sun.
Astronomers in China, Egypt, and Mesopotamia tracked the movements of the sun, moon, and planets more than 3,000 years ago.
Stars appear to twinkle because the moving atmosphere of our planet causes the light from the star to be bend slightly.
1. Orion's belt
2. Star Trek Academy
3. No, it was sucked into a black hole.
4. ~wonders what is an astromoer~ ;) bathe him with gamma rays*
*Oh wait, that is how The Incredible Hulk was created ... quick cut off the gamma ray projector
[secret message: Kang is gonna be evicted, so if there is anythin' at his house you want, grab it quickly, because the Sherrif might be comin' to kick that deadbeat kangaroo out at any time.]
Actually, Mike the Marine is right according to my joke thingy. But both answers would fit the question.
Correct answer for #2: A Universe-ity
Correct answer for #3: Never mind... it's over your head!
That is all until next Tuesday!
Madfish Willie bullshitted on March 17, 2004 at 08:49 PM
9
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Hey, slop jaw, quit boozgarting the felony juice so we can finish frontloading and get our fade on.
Last call lothario
Someone who's shy until last call, at which point he'll try to hook up with anything that has a pulse and/or booze at their home.
Loudmouth soup
A shot of strong liquor.
MDA
Mysterious Drinking Accident. When you wake up with bruises and cuts you have no recollection of receiving. Also called UPI (Unidentified Party Injury), UBB (Unidentified Beer Bruise) and drunk marks.
NBR
No Beers Required: Someone sufficiently attractive enough to hit on while sober.
One for the ditch
A less optimistic version of One for the road.
Pavement pizza
Vomit on the sidewalk, often found outside bars.
Prole piss
Any cheap American lager.
Prole piss poser
A yuppie who attempts to appear down with the working class by making a point of ordering only bottom shelf liquor and cheap beer.
Mystery guest
The guy at the party no one seems to know. They usually lurk in the kitchen near the booze.
Riding a rocking horse into battle
Getting drunk on 3.2% beer.
Roadside olympics
Roadside sobriety test.
Shelf jumper
Someone whose tastes improve from bottom to top shelf when someone offers to buy them a drink.
Skinflint sprint
The fast walk a departing patron employs after he's left the cocktail waitress a less-than-generous tip on the table. Someone who spills (unintentionally or otherwise) most of his shot down the side of his face. As in, "Don't waste anymore money on Mike, he slopjawed the last three shots."
Stout gout
The morning-after flatulence that often follows a night of drinking Guinness.
Tart fuel
Bottled alcopops, e.g. Hooch, Sky Blue, etc., regularly consumed by young women.
Thousand mile glare
The blank, vaguely hostile look a veteran bartender will give you when you ask a stupid question such as, "Is the beer cold?"
Tip jar anxiety
The fear that an unobservant bartender won't notice you left a good tip.
Trip dog
The invisible canine that starts getting underfoot around your tenth drink. Once he arrives he will trip you up the rest of the night.
Trojan hooch
Bringing an empty bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag to a party so you won't appear a mooch.
Twelve stepper
A reformed drinker or someone who wants to quit drinking early. As in, "Hold on there, twelve stepper, the bouncer hasn't even threatened us yet."
Two pint screamer
Someone who gets noticeably drunk after two drinks.
Vodka vision
A liquor specific brand of beer goggles.
Wobbly pop
Any beverage containing alcohol.
New Words for Drunk:
jagged up, boiled as an owl, mothered, curried and mashed, de-ossified, full tight, skinned, pie-eyed, gibbled, in the paint, pile-axed, rat-assed, stinko, torn off the frame, torqued, troll-eyed, wired to the tits, banjoed, chateaued, one over the eight, pixelated, swipey, wankered, zigzag, slaughtered, juice-looped, 12 gauged, Boris Yelstinned, cop-sluggin' drunk, five winos gone, jackassed, liver-lubed, monkey assed, mullocked, paralytic, stolichnyed, ten feet tall and bulletproof, tore up from the floor up, Kennedied, wearing a big hat, shined up, wingdinged, off the leash, drunk uncled, picassoed, and finally, locked out of your mind.
Hey, slop jaw, quit boozgarting the felony juice so we can finish frontloading and get our fade on.
De-boned
To become so drunk you appear not to have any skeletal structure to hold you up.
Deep-dish olive pie
A martini.
Deja booty
When a drunk inexplicably has sex with the person he swore he would never speak of or to again, never ever.
Deja booze
When an infrequently enjoyed drink reminds you of the last time you enjoyed it. As in, "This margarita reminds me of when I was partying in Tijuana, just before I vomited on myself, picked a fight with the bartender and got thrown in the clink. Good times, good times."
Deserter
A full beer, possibly hidden, found when cleaning up the next day after a party.
Hell's own drag
Influence. As in, "See the size of that shot? Ever since I started dating the barmaid, I've got hell's own drag at this bar."
Drink link
An ATM.
Drink shrink
Those who, after a few drinks, discover they have the ability to psychoanalyze and offer solid personal advice to their friends and/or strangers.
Drinking in stereo
Boozing with a drink in each hand.
Felony juice
Tequila.
Flip wire
That fine, fuzzy line between buzzed and hammered. As in, "That fucker ain't driving, he tripped the flip wire three shots ago."
Floored
When you're so drunk standing up just seems a silly waste of time.
Frontloading
Getting drunk before going to a nightclub because the club's drinks are expensive.
FUBAR
Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.
Fugly bus
The mysterious bus that whisks away all the ugly people from the bar and replaces them with their beautiful cousins while you're in the bathroom draining your tenth pint.
Get the fade on
Going out with intention of getting very, very drunk.
Grog monster
The part of the brain that insists you keep drinking long after you should have went home and passed out.
Gutter hugger
Drinkers who empty the contents of their stomach into a gutter or nearest trash can.
Hooch hotel
The drunk tank.
Housed
Moderately drunk. This term is particularly popular with those who listen to the Grateful Dead and smoke large amounts of marijuana.
Jack and Jill
A shot of Jack Daniels and a beer.
Joint of no return
A bar from which you are 86'd.
Juice card
Received on your 21st birthday.
Jumping on the grenade
When two groups of the opposite sex meet, one member "jumps on the grenade" by talking to (or possibly sleeping with) the least attractive member of the other group so as to ensure the success of the rest of the group.
Jumping strays
Stealing unattended or abandoned drinks at a bar or party. As in, "I'm so broke I've been jumping strays all night."
Kamikaze eyes
The look a drunk gets when he spies someone he always hated but never had the guts to fight. Until now.
Keg commander
the boisterous chap who hovers around the keg so as to ensure everyone knows how to properly pour a beer.
Drinking in stereo
Boozing with a drink in each hand.
So, what do you call Matty O'Blacfive who's also one in each hand, one in each foot, and 2 in a Foam Dome?
Harvey bullshitted on February 04, 2004 at 10:20 AM
2
Keg Commander...last kegger I attended, I headbutted the Keg Commander....broke his nose, but he let me pour my own damn beer after that...and, more importantly, he let my WIFE pour hers as well...lecherous bastard..
Need another round over here! A bored customer is a cranky customer.
Don't make me tell the CotBG that you left the place unguarded again. I hope you haven't forgotten what happened last time...
Harvey bullshitted on February 10, 2004 at 10:34 AM
4
/me hops the bar and grabs the Frangelico for the ladies in the house
"Shush boys, he'll never miss it.
"And quit staring at that big bottle of Galliano, Harvey -- you're a married man!"
Leapin Lizzard bullshitted on February 10, 2004 at 08:25 PM
5
Well, Bartender, I warned you. Looks like it's open season on the top shelf...
Harvey bullshitted on February 11, 2004 at 10:26 AM
6
My, My. Is that a bottle of Rumple Minz i spy?
Chris P. Cream bullshitted on February 11, 2004 at 06:47 PM
7
I've got the dibs on the Harvey's Bristol Cream Sherry!!!! Ooooh--and this Irish Creme Liquer is mine too!
Susie bullshitted on February 11, 2004 at 11:23 PM
8
Second trimester... no liquor... but the beer nuts are all mine! MINE MINE MINE. And then I'm gonna move onto the pretzels! And the honey roasted nuts! And the mints! And the chips! And then I'm gonna hop over the bar and take over the ice cream! YEAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Careful, Dana, or you'll have to strangle yourself...
Wonder if I can pull the Spice channel in on the Champagne Room's big screen...
First I gotta find out if I can get all the way around the room by jumping from one piece of furniture to the next.
Harvey bullshitted on February 11, 2004 at 11:32 PM
10
How come I'm always late to the party? Hey are there any 'Rita's here? I know - sissy drink - but I have to go back to work when I'm done... I'll leave all the non-liquor stuff for Dana, she needs to eat for 2 right now *G*.
Maybe liquor will help my brain work better... I see an experiment in the making!
Teresa bullshitted on February 11, 2004 at 11:40 PM
11
Look! a pool table! if I take off my clothes and start swimming...
Harvey, please move those balls...they're impeding my breast stroke...
Susie bullshitted on February 11, 2004 at 11:47 PM
12
Hey, if the 'tender's gone, there's really nothing to STOP us from having sex in the Champagne Room, now, is there?
[grabbing panties from Trey]
It's strictly a comfort thing.
Anyway what's Dana going to be blowing and where does the line start?
Hey Mike! Does the Bartender have any Reddi-Wip in that little fridge? Don't ask why I need it, just throw it over here.
Anybody needs me, I'll be in the Champagne room.
Harvey bullshitted on February 13, 2004 at 10:56 AM
25
Where are the Buttery Nipples?
And while I'm waiting, I'll have a drink too.
(Don't be showing me any pictures of Janet for that, I like my liquor not quite so hard.)
LeeAnn bullshitted on February 13, 2004 at 07:42 PM
26
Hey Mike! While you're in the fridge, see if you can find some butter for LeeAnn. Her perkies need greasin' up.
At least I *think* that's what she meant.
Harvey bullshitted on February 14, 2004 at 01:11 AM
27
LeeAnn!! I'm Shocked and AWED... anyone up for a Redheaded Slut?
Harvey, not quite... my perkies (I love that one) are adequately lubed.
And Eric, the sun is past the yardarm, so of course I've already had my daily requirement of Redheaded Slut.
Blow Jobs, btw, are dessert material.
LeeAnn bullshitted on February 14, 2004 at 11:09 AM
29
I'll be right back, I'm gonna run to Wal-Mart and buy us a Slip-and-Slide.. no point in letting all that Reddi-Whip go to waste.
Can't let it get too hot, the edible undies will melt. Again.
LeeAnn bullshitted on February 14, 2004 at 07:02 PM
33
Hey, I was rummaging around in the storage closet, looking for the olive oil for the Slip-n-Slide, and I found this Robin costume. Two questions: whose is it, and who's Batman?
Eric- A Sweet and Sour Pussy, of course.... silly man.
Dana- When you find Batman, check out the utility belt, it's niiiiiiiice.
LeeAnn bullshitted on February 15, 2004 at 11:47 AM
36
Look! A Spiderman costume, too!
All right, which of you ladies has been a bad, bad criminal who needs to be bound tightly in the unbreakable grip of my web?
By the way [chew, chew] these edible undies taste a lot like cotton... although there's a certain hint of something familiar and delicious.
Harvey bullshitted on February 15, 2004 at 01:01 PM
37
It's not corn, is it?
LeeAnn bullshitted on February 15, 2004 at 06:39 PM
38
Good Kee-rist Harv... (snatches panties). Those belong to Evil Glenn's girlfriend! You're gonna need shots!
No... not the vodka kind... put those down...
No, I DON'T know why the Bartender has Evil Glenn's girlie's panties under the bar... but then I'm finding all kinda crazy stuff under here... Anybody know where the pin to this grenade went? I think I heard it slide under the jukebox...
Mike the Marine bullshitted on February 15, 2004 at 06:51 PM
39
Here, try this
Marty's Willy Nilly Martini, (aka The Mafish Willie Nillie):
1 part Stoli Vanilla Vodka
1 part Kahlua
Shake furiously over ice, and strain into martini glass
Serve liberally to teenage girls...
Marty bullshitted on February 15, 2004 at 08:13 PM
40
LeeAnn - I thought your undies were invisible.
Marty, no teenage girls are allowed here, it's disheartening to the more seasoned women in the room!
Now, who has Batman's utility belt???
Teresa bullshitted on February 15, 2004 at 10:06 PM
41
...I think I threw my back out on the slip-n-slide... pour me a double.. you ladies are HARD on us old guys...
>:( Damnit, I'm always LATE for everything! (stupid snow!) Now everyone's ready to leave and here I am still sober. I'm NOT going to be the designated-blogger today, folks.
Somebody hit me with a Schlitz.
bullshitted on February 16, 2004 at 11:02 AM
47
Apparently I'm less lucent than I thought...that last brain fart without a name was mine.
I'll excuse myself to the worn out-out pool table now. I come bringing tidings of disinfectant and joy.
Tiffany bullshitted on February 16, 2004 at 11:11 AM
Eric, you know it's not the years... it's the mileage that counts.
Tiffany, I got better than Schlitz... have a Buttery Nipple.
LeeAnn bullshitted on February 16, 2004 at 06:31 PM
50
that's right, LeeAnn.. and Baby, I've got some SERIOUS mileage.... awwww, fuckit.. gimme a buttery nipple, andI'll hit the slip-n-slide again.... your have STIRRED me, miss... must be that cheesy smell that's got me revv'd..
Laps around pool(table). Buttery nipples. Shimmying. I have GOT to start checking the calendar over the weekends. Somehow I'm always the last to arrive. Everyone's already drunk and now I have to catch up. On the plus side, everyone's had so much that I won't have to share the homebrew. Uh, except for Susie. Pissing off the Alliance webmistress isn't high on my list of things to do. She'll be getting her beer sometime today. Hopefully she'll pop the top here at the Bartender's.
Hey Harvey! Have we graduated from beer to tequila shots already?
physics geek bullshitted on February 17, 2004 at 03:17 PM
60
Nah, Eric, they're like jello with a pulse. I wanted them to be like Silly Putty so I could squish them on the comics page and pick up the pictures on 'em, but you takes what you gots and deal, right?
*shimmy*
LeeAnn bullshitted on February 17, 2004 at 04:20 PM
61
Got it right here, Eric. Though I'm afraid everybody may bolt for the door when they hear the combination of my awful singing voice and my awful playing.
*AHEM*
Sweet home Alabama,
Where the skies are so blue,
Sweet home Alabama,
Lord I'm comin' home to you.
*TWANG* Dammit! Broke a string. Anybody happen to carry around any extra guitar string when they go out? And where's my Sprite?
Shh! Quiet down there! Why is it so loud in here? And what's with all the lights?
Geez...my head's spinning--hey, give me back my drink!
Tiffany bullshitted on February 17, 2004 at 05:23 PM
63
*whew*... ladies, y'all amaze me... buttery nipples, Skynyrd tunes, body shots, shimmyin' breasts... lord, someone shoot me now, cuz I've seen the promised land, and it is Madfish Willie's on a Tuesday night..
Oooh! Are we doing karaoke now? *hic!* Who wants to join me for a chorus of "Dancing *hic!* Queen"?
Tiffany bullshitted on February 17, 2004 at 10:32 PM
66
I don't know about singing, but someone throw me some beads!
Teresa bullshitted on February 17, 2004 at 11:02 PM
67
Somebody please get me an alka seltzer...and ask that midget to get off the jukebox!
Susie bullshitted on February 18, 2004 at 01:17 AM
68
hM - I don't have a guitar string, but I've got a g-string. Don't really remember where it came from, though. Hope it's not Trey's.
Susie - I've got a midget for your jukebox. Mheh :-)
LeeAnn - and just what, exactly, is wrong with pulsing jello?
Physics Geek - I was going to do some tequila shots earlier, but apparently someone took all the shot glasses & built a scale model of the Alamo with 'em. Pretty impressive.
Dana - since you're not drinking, why don't you make me a sandwich? You can be the bottom slice of bread.
Who wants to be the lettuce and/or tomato?
And has ANYONE seen Matty O'Blackfive? Tiffany! Check under your boobs!
Harvey bullshitted on February 18, 2004 at 04:56 AM
69
Harvey - Oh, nonononono... with this burgeoning belly, no way I'm going to be the *bottom* slice of bread. I'll be on top, though. ;)
I brought the ketchup! I also brought some relish and mustard and onions.
I'm so going to be stylin' in my wonderwoman underoos in about five seconds.
LOOK OUT!
Trey Givens bullshitted on February 18, 2004 at 11:49 AM
74
Trey, you've already managed to make me want to cry with the fact that your smokin' hot and, like a good deal of cute men, gay. Please don't make it any worse by showin' off your bod.
Would anyone like to hear the Maniak's version of Fur Elise? The one where Elise get's her head chopped off?
*Flings arms dramatically in the air and shouts* I am the master of Beethoven! Bow before me! Mwahahaha!
Thank you Eric. That's all I really wanted. If anybody needs me I'm going to be over in the corner trying to massage the feeling back into my finger tips. And laughing at everybody who's getting drunk.
Harvey! Trey! Must you both be performing a strip show to "It's Raining Men" on the pool table?
I'll come clean. The Robin costume is mine--and sadly I'll have to break all your hearts by saying that the Dynamic Duo is in fact NOT ambiguously gay. Come forth, Batman, and tell these drunken revelers who you be.
Sorry, Harv, no Matty under my boobs, but...hmm, what's this? Cool! It's that fiver I've been looking for all night...I've really got to stop stuffing cash into my bra.
Mimosa anyone?
Tiffany bullshitted on February 18, 2004 at 01:30 PM
78
eric - I'll take a virgin strawberry daiquiri. Hmmm, now that I think of it, that'll be only the second virgin I've ever had!
coming right up, Dana...you want the cherry on top?
put yer money away, Tiffany, it's no good here... I'm Tendin', and its ALL free.. although.. if you don't mind, can I watch you put it BACK under there?
Harv! Get off that pool table, and help me out over here! the COTBB's are gettin' thirsty, and I only got two hands!
Dale a tu cuerpo alegria Macarena
Que tu cuerpo es pa' darle alegria y cosa buena
Dale a tu cuerpo alegria Macarena
HEY MACARENA!
Wooooooo!!!
Trey Givens bullshitted on February 18, 2004 at 10:39 PM
84
C'mon over here, hM, baby, and sit on papi's lap. I'll tell you all about the glory of fountain Sprite with LIME!
*crowd gasps*
Once again, I prove I am far to radical for mainstream consumption. Bleedin' edge, baby!
Woooooo!!!
Someone queue up the Ketchup song on the Karaoke machine!
Asereje ja de je de jebe tu de jebere seibiunouva,
Majavi an de bugui an de buididipi...
*shakes it like a polaroid picture*
Trey Givens bullshitted on February 18, 2004 at 10:46 PM
85
Barkeep! Get out the black coffee! *slings mud at LeeAnn* We've got a lush on our hands!
...and I'll be taking that polaroid picture, buddy. I plan on having a political career someday.
Tiffany bullshitted on February 18, 2004 at 11:14 PM
86
I still think Matty's Batman. Why else wouldn't he be here?
Hey Tiffany, before you jump in the mud, ya mind if I sniff that fiver for a little while?
And Eric, I think we'll leave it up to the LADIES to decide if I should stop the pool table dancing duo routine. Trey's better looking, but I'm better at the not gay part.
Ladies, pick your fantasy.
Hey, did I just see the Bartender's car drive by?
Harvey bullshitted on February 19, 2004 at 08:38 AM
87
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air travel bullshitted on March 03, 2005 at 07:09 PM
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Hey, slop jaw, quit boozgarting the felony juice so we can finish frontloading and get our fade on.
Confused?
You should be. Bar slang is constantly evolving and if you fall behind you'll start coming off like Al Gore trying to get down at Ol' Dirty Bastard show. So let The Bartender hip you up and get you in with the cool kids.
Bait-and-switch
When an attractive person invites you to his or her table then steers you to a less attractive friend.
Barley sandwich
Beer for lunch. Also called a slurp sandwich.
Bayonetting the wounded
Gamely drinking the half-finished beers the morning after a party.
Booze coupons
Money.
Bedspins
The variety of spins that occur while lying prone. Putting one foot on the floor usually helps. If you are already on the floor, may God have mercy on your soul.
Beer bitch
The person sitting closest to the cooler or refrigerator at a party whose sole purpose in life is to grab another beer when yours runs out.
Beer blinders
One's perception when under the influence of alcohol. Often causes unattractive people to look hot, long distances to look jumpable and break dancing moves to look easy.
Beer Pressure
The tendency to drink what your friends drink.
Beer queer
A straight man who will pretend to be gay so as to solicit free drinks from an unsuspecting homosexual.
Blackout Brigade
A group of heavy drinkers.
Booze compass
The instinct that leads you home when you're blackout drunk.
Booze muscle
The increase in courage and combat abilities linked to heavy alcohol consumption.
Booze snooze
A nap taken early in the afternoon after a morning of drinking, designed to prepare you for the evening's drinking.
Boozgart
The person who, when he is supposed to be passing the bottle of liquor around, stops to reflect on the first time he got drunk, last time he got drunk, etc. A derivative of the stoner term bogart.
Breaking the Seal
Urinating for the first time during a drinking session. Once the seal is broken, restroom trips become much more frequent.
Britney Spears
A light beer. As in, "How can I take you seriously when you've been sucking
on Britney Spears all night?"
Buzzkill
That which destroys the buzz. Examples are fights with one's significant other while at the bar, boors who insist on telling that story one more time, your best friend admitting that he/she is sleeping with your significant other, horrible music after you've just heard three of your favorite songs in a row, or discovering that you actually have less than half of the money that you thought you had at the beginning of the evening.
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What the fuck… don’t fuck with me… fuckin A… flying fuck… fuck off… fuck you… fuck….
A google search for historical origins of fuck yields Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon: Fuck You! as #5 result. Only #5?!? UPDATE: Well, now Madfish Willie's is the #2 & #3 result. In a couple of days, I should be #1! Woohoo!
Here's a recap of some of the top results and we'll all know where the fuckfuck came from.
Comments on the author's use of the word "frig" sparked a fascinating discussion about the etymology of the word, which led to further discussion about the origins of my favorite word - "fuck."
For the F word in action...
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From ChocolateKisses
The grapevine has it that the word first came about through the justice system. When there was a case of 'rape'- the action was described as such . . .
*the accused used the victim For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge*
Thus it became an acronym - FUCK. And of course we had our way with it, you know, fucked with it a bit - leading to the way we use it today
From Summanus
Fuck might come from the Latin verb Futuere, meaning to fuck. It was a consider rude to express sex with futuere, like today it might de impolite to say fuck. 't' could easily change to 'ck'.
From Steven
The F word: The origins of our favorite word - "frappachino" right?
From Shawn
Word History The obscenity fuck is a very old word and has been considered shocking from the first, though it is seen in print much more often now than in the past. Its first known occurrence, in code because of its unacceptability, is in a poem composed in a mixture of Latin and English sometime before 1500.
The poem, which satirizes the Carmelite friars of Cambridge, England, takes its title, "Flen flyys," from the first words of its opening line, "Flen, flyys, and freris," that is, "fleas, flies, and friars."
The line that contains fuck reads "Non sunt in coeli, quia gxddbov xxkxzt pg ifmk." The Latin words "Non sunt in coeli, quia," mean "they [the friars] are not in heaven, since."
The code "gxddbov xxkxzt pg ifmk" is easily broken by simply substituting the preceding letter in the alphabet, keeping in mind differences in the alphabet and in spelling between then and now i was then used for both i and j; v was used for both u and v; and vv was used for w.
This yields "fvccant [a fake Latin form] vvivys of heli." The whole thus reads in translation "They are not in heaven because they fuck wives of Ely [a town near Cambridge]." (dictionary.com)
From Otto
Perhaps one of the most interesting words in the English language today, is the word Fuck. Out of all the English words that begin with the letter "F", Fuck is the only word that is referred to as the "F" word. It's the one magical word that just by it's sound can describe pain, pleasure, hate and love. Fuck....as most words in the English language is derived from the German word "Friken", which means to strike.
In English, Fuck falls into many grammatical categories. As a transitive verb for instance, "John fucked Shirley". As an intransitive verb, " Shirley fucks". It's meaning is not always sexual however. It could be used as an adjective such as, "John's doing all the fucking work"; as part of an adverb, "Shirley talks to fucking much"; as an adverb enhancing an adjective, "Shirley is fucking beautiful"; as a noun, "I don't give a fuck"; as part of a word "absofuckinlutely or infuckingcredible" and, as almost every word in a sentence, "fuck the fucking fuckers".
As you must now realize, there isn't to many words with the versatility of fuck. As in these examples describing situations such as fraud, " I got fucked at the used car lot"; dismay, "awe fuck it"; trouble, "I guess I'm really fucked now"; aggression, "don't fuck with me buddy"; difficulty, "I don't understand the fucking question"; inquiry, "who the fuck was that"; dissatisfaction, "I don't like what the fuck is going on here"; incompetence, "he's a fuck up" and dismissal, " why don't you go outside and play hide-n-go-fuck-yourself". I'm sure you can think of many more examples. With all of these multipurpose applications, how can anyone be offended when you use the word.
I say, use this unique flexible word more often in your daily speech. It will identify the quality of your character immediately. Say it loudly and proudly. FUCK YOU!
From J.T.
The way I heard it, somewhere in medieval times, one of the English kings had a brilliant idea to tax prostitution instead of outlawing it. All professional ladies had to apply for licenses to sell their wares, and each one who did received a certificate acknowledging their legal right to conduct their trade. The certificate said Fornicating Under Command of the King. F.U.C.K. Probably about as much validity to it as the other stories I've heard, but I like it.
Incidentally, the best examination of the word I've ever heard was done by George Carlin in his famous "Seven words you can never say on television" routine. He also pointed out that "fuck" is a word for making love, yet it's used when we really want to insult somebody. Carlin said, "I'd rather see a show of two people making love, rather than two people trying to kill one another, but I'd like to take it further. I'd like to substitute the word "fuck" for the word "kill" in all those old movie clichés." for example,
"Okay, sheriff, we're going to fuck you now. But we're going to fuck you slow."
"Careful with that clutch, or you'll fuck the engine again."
"Fuck the ump. Fuck the ump. Fuck the ump."
From John
I have a link here that addresses the question of the origin of the word "fuck." I can state categorically that it is not an acronym of any kind. Even though no one really knows for sure what the origin of the word is, it is a fact of our language that acronyms don't appear before the late nineteenth century. For a word that could have been around as early as the year 1250 (predating Modern English), an acronymic origin is not really possible.
One possible origin for the word I've heard, and isn't mentioned here , is that "fuck" may be derived from the German word "foch," which means "to plow." I kind of like that one.
From Anonymous
the word comes from Latin.....facies: to make or do, English cognate is fuck
From Karly
I like this Robin Hood type story. It's a nice twist having the main characters be woman. I noticed a few things....<> frig??
From Jean Roberta
Your question ("frig?") deserves an essay on archaic terms for sex. (There is probably a book on this somewhere.) "To frig" is a nineteenth-century term for masturbating (usually someone else), or to be more precise, finger-fucking. I like the word because it seems more precise than any currently-used term for this activity. Since my story is set in the past, I used the old word, even though it probably isn't old ENOUGH to give an accurate flavor of "days of yore" (the Robin Hood era).
Another nineteenth-century word that, for some reason, seems to have disappeared is the French-flavored "gamahouche" (or "gamahooch") for oral sex, i.e.: 69, giving head, going down on.
You can find these words and many more in paperback reproductions of THE PEARL, a racy magazine that flourished briefly in Victorian England (1880s, I believe). I can't remember the publisher, but you could find publishing info under the title in BOOKS IN PRINT in any library.
I don't see why perfectly useful words have to die, but if readers don't know what I mean when I write, I suppose I might as well frig myself.
From Siobhan
I have heard this word used in an epithet--"that frigging idiot!"--but not very often. Have always thought it was supposed to be a more polite way of saying "fucking", but now I see it has a meaning all its own, though not that much different from the word fuck.
And speaking of the word fuck, since we have been discussing words lately, isn't it interesting how that word can be used to mean making love (although it's not a very, erm, romantic word for that delightful pastime), and also as one of aggression and heavy-duty insulting?
From Volponia
Sure is, Siobhan, almost as interesting as the way fucking has been employed (not solely by men!) primarily to exercise power over the fuckee. And what's the deal with so many of the words dealing with sexual parts and acts, anyhow? Why are they so dry and hard, when we are so soft and wet (well, *some* of us... ) I mean, really, the word "cunt." It sounds like a good alias for a sledgehammer. And "prick"? Something slender, sharp, pointy, hurtful? No thanks.
From Shivaji
Years ago, I had to take History of the English Language course to complete the requirements for the doctorate degree at Columbia. Although I resented taking it then, I was most fortunate that a renowned American lexicographer (writer of dictionaries) gave this course. At that time he was on the board of the Oxford English Dictionary (OED).
Professor was a short, little bald man, at the edge of retirement, and extremely polite and formal. His lectures were fascinating because, instead of sticking to linguists' mumbo-jumbo, he used to talk about historical, social and cultural influence on and of words. Then one day, when a student wanted to know why OED did not publish curse words, Reed corrected him and said it's OED's policy not to publish meanings of words if their etymological history (i.e., how words came into a language) was not formally determined. Most curse words have a problem of origin, he said. Then, surprising every one, in his gentle, polite way, he said, with just the slightest impish smile, that he was about to break the etymological history of the word, "fuck." He actually pronounced the word, with the most delicate little pronunciation, wispy and gentle! The almost silent word could be heard in the class like a pin dropping. Students were stunned. (This was 1973). Thereupon he gave the most erudite lecture on "fuck" that I've ever heard!
It seems that there was a word in Old English, used by farmers, that was a direct descendent from the Latin, "pug," the infinitive form of "pugnare" meaning "to hit aggressively," but also "to pierce." During the Great Western Migration many European words mixed with each other. Some words were imported in their original form, but many began to be used with distinctly different sounds. The great fairy tale writer, Grimm, studied these sound shifts, and observed that these sounds changed according to certain phonemic (i.e., sound) patterns and actually created a formula to trace the sound shifts.
According to Professor, "fuck" comes from an Old English word "fuk" meaning, "to plant." I am not an expert in Old English, but Reed quoted from OE texts to illustrate the meaning of the word. Reed says the word "fuk" was a result of a sound shift from "pug" because the p-sounding words often changed to f-sounding words (for instance, the Latin 'pater' meaning father, changed to the English, 'father'), and the g-sounding words changed to k-sounding words (the Latin 'genu' meaning knee, changed to the English knee. Up to the 18th century the English word was actually pronounced with the 'k').
So, "pug," changed to "fuk," meaning, "to plant." Professor Reed said that around the tenth century, in Medieval England, the word somehow took on a sexual meaning. Apparently, Chaucer may have been one of the first writers to use the word sexually. Planting left agriculture and took on a human behavior, Reed said, panting!
Steven, the whole class was mesmerized by this lecture. Walker said he had written a 22 page paper for the Journal of American Linguistics, "My tour de force was that I never once mentioned the word in my paper!" he said with the cutest smile. Finally, with the same modest demeanor, Professor Reed announced that he was currently hard at work on "cunt." The whole class burst out laughing
From Pan
I'm late in catching up with the fuck thread, but I don't think anyone has mentioned the book, THE F WORD, edited by Jesse Sheidlower and pub. by Random House three or four years ago (Available at Amazon.com & Amazon UK). The book contains just about all you might care to know about the word. (Not the subject, of course, which is endlessly fascinating.)
Sheidlower writes that the word "fuck" derives from several Germanic languages and words that have sexual meanings as well as meanings such as "to strike" and "to thrust." He believes that the claim for acronymic origin of "fuck" began sometime in the '60's and says he thinks the claim is false, since "Acronyms are rare before the 1930's, and etymologies of this sort--especially for older words--are almost always false."
wedding rings bullshitted on August 26, 2005 at 09:53 PM
2
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What the fuck… don’t fuck with me… fuckin A… flying fuck… fuck off… fuck you… fuck….
A google search for historical origins of fuck yields Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon: Fuck You! as #5 result. Only #5?!? UPDATE: Well, now Madfish Willie's is the #2 & #3 result. In a couple of days, I should be #1! Woohoo!
Here's a recap of some of the top results and we'll all know where the fuckfuck came from.
Date: Tue, 5 Sep 1995 16:46:48 EDT From: Will Wheeler Newsgroups: alt.folklore.urban Subject: Etymology of a Dirty Word
A topic that frequently comes up in this newsgroup is word or phrase origins, especially when the origins are obscure or there are folkloric aspects to the origin. A prime example is the word fuck. Many people think that fuck is derived as an acronym of For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge or Fornication Under Consent of the King. These people are wrong. The word fuck is a good 500 years old, with cognates that are much older. For more information on the etymology of fuck, as well as many other word and phrase origins, please consult the /pub/cathouse/urban.legends/language/ directory at the cathouse archives. Another good source is the _Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang_, which has pages and pages of definitions. They quote alt.sex.stories on to fill with fuck, but don't get the definition of flying fuck completely correct.
I chanced upon a reference on the etymology of fuck, and thought that I'd share what I found. The article is "An Obscenity Symbol," by Allen Walker Read, in _American Speech_, 9 n. 4, (December 1934): 264-278. It's quite an enjoyable read and only briefly touches on the etymology of the word, which is fine; the main focus is on the history of the word in the language, in dictionaries, and popular speech. Interestingly, Read always uses "our word" or "the word" instead of "fuck," but it's pretty obvious what word he's talking about.
The first appearance of the word fuck was in a poem by William Dunbar, entitled Ane [or A] Brash of Wowing or In Secreit Place. The poem was composed in 1503, at the latest. Dunbar was Scottish, and the other early recorded uses of fuck are also from Scots. Read concludes that "either the word had little stigma in this resion and was merely a counterpart of Chaucer's swive, or that the Scots were bolder in speech than their southern neighbors." You be the judge.
I found the poem in The Poems of William Dunbar, James Kinsley, ed., Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979, 40-42.
Here are the first two stanzas of the poem:
In secreit place this hindir nycht
I hard ane bern say till a bricht:
My hunny, my houp, my hairt, my heill,
I haif bene lang your lufar leill
And can yow gett confort nane;
How lang will ye with denger deill?
Ye brek my hart, my bony ane.
His bony berd wes kemd and croppit
Bot all with kaill it was bedroppit
And he was townsyche, peirt and gukkit.
He clappit fast, he kist, he chukkit
As with the glaikkis he were ourgane--
Yit be his feiris he wald haif fukkit:
Ye brek my hairt, my bony ane.
Apparently, this is about a romantic liason between a kitchen maid and a smooth-talking city boy. A colleague of Michele Tepper's has provided a translation. Please email me if you're interested.
Please feel free to follow up to this post. Don't, however, even think about suggesting that you heard that fuck is derived from an acronym. It isn't, and the idea has absolutely no basis in fact.
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What the fuck… don’t fuck with me… fuckin A… flying fuck… fuck off… fuck you… fuck….
A google search for historical origins of fuck yields Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon: Fuck You! as #5 result. Only #5?!? Here's a recap of some of the top results and we'll all know where the fuckfuck came from.
Word Origins:
"Fuck" does NOT stand for "for unlawful carnal knowledge" or "fornication under consent of the king". It is not an acronym for anything at all.
It is a very old word, recorded in English since the 15th century (few acronyms predate the 20th century), with cognates in other Germanic languages. The Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang (Random House, 1994, ISBN 0-394-54427-7) cites Middle Dutch _fokken_ = "to thrust, copulate with"; Norwegian dialect _fukka_ = "to copulate"; and Swedish dialect _focka_ = "to strike, push, copulate" and _fock_ = "penis".
Although German _ficken_ may enter the picture somehow, it is problematic in having e-grade, or umlaut, where all the others have o-grade or zero-grade of the vowel.
AHD1, following Pokorny, derived "feud", "fey", "fickle", "foe", and "fuck" from an Indo-European root _*peig2_ = "hostile"; but AHD2 and AHD3 have dropped this connection for "fuck" and give no pre-Germanic etymon for it. Eric Partridge, in the 7th edition of _Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English_ (Macmillan, 1970), said that "fuck" "almost certainly" comes from the Indo-European root _*peuk-_ = "to prick" (which is the source of the English words "compunction", "expunge", "impugn", "poignant", "point", "pounce", "pugilist", "punctuate", "puncture", "pungent", and "pygmy"). Robert Claiborne, in _The Roots of English: A Reader's Handbook of Word Origin_ (Times, 1989) agrees that this is "probably" the etymon. Problems with such theories include a distribution that suggests a North-Sea Germanic areal form rather than an inherited one; the murkiness of the phonetic relations; and the fact that no alleged cognate outside Germanic has sexual connotations.
Hey Willie, ya little fuck - yuou're now the number fucking one google fucking search for the historical origins of fuck, you fucker you. Now quityerbitchin, shut the fuck up, and pour some fucking drinks ya fuck-face!
Now that I've read all that crap, saying "Fuck you, Bartender" makes me feel all edumacated & shit.
Harvey bullshitted on January 31, 2004 at 09:08 AM
3
I remember them actually teaching us that Fornication Upon Consent of the King bullshit in school, and later learning that it, along with half the other crap I learned in school, was completely false. Thanks for your tireless efforts in pushing this up to the top on Google. The world needs to know!
dowingba bullshitted on February 02, 2004 at 11:29 AM
4
Well. I'll be fucked.
Raveled bullshitted on February 29, 2004 at 05:26 PM
5
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What the fuck… don’t fuck with me… fuckin A… flying fuck… fuck off… fuck you… fuck….
A google search for historical origins of fuck yields Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon: Fuck You! as #5 result. Only #5?!? Here's a recap of some of the top results and we'll all know where the fuckfuck came from.
Claim: The word 'fuck' derives from an acronymic phrase, either 'For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge' or 'Fornication Under Consent of the King.'
Status: False.
Examples:
[Collected on the Internet, 1999]
In ancient England single people could not have sex unless they had consent of the king. When people wanted to have a baby, they had to get the consent of the king, and the king gave them a placard that they hung on their door while they were having sex. The placard had F. U. C. K. (Fornication Under Consent of the King) on it. Hence that's where the word Fuck came from. Now, aren't you glad you learned something new today?
[Collected on the Internet, 1997]
In Christianized Anglo-Saxon Britain, invading kings would require that their troops would rape the women in a common demoralization procedure. Because fornication was against religious law, the rapists needed special religious permission, from the king.
[Collected on the Internet, 1995]
Have been informed by lawyer friend that acronym stands for "For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge," a legal offense of a few centuries back regarding out-of-wedlock, underage, etc. coupling.
[Collected on the Internet, 1995]
The dirty copulatory word back in days of yore was "swive". Supposedly "swive" was excised from texts by the Censors and replaced with the inscription "For Unlawful Carnal (or Cardinal?) Knowledge" — or at least its initials. At least this is what I learned in college — or was it the streets?
[Collected on the Internet, 1995]
The explanation I heard as a kid was that it stood for: For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge.
It was said that this was a British Army charge used when soldiers were caught shagging without permission (I was never sure if it was shagging women or each other). They would be tried and sentenced, hence you're FUCKed now etc . . .
[Collected on the Internet, 1995]
I thought it stood for what adulterers had written above them in the stocks: For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge, that being their crime.
Variations:
The 'acronym' is variously rendered as:
Fornication Under Consent of the King
Fornication Under Charles the King
Fornication Under Crown of the King
Fornication under Christ, King
For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge
Forced Unlawful Carnal Knowledge
File Under Carnal Knowledge (how Scotland Yard marked rape files).
Forbidden Under Charter of the King (a sign posted on brothels closed by the Crown)
Origins: Though a few common English words have grown out of acronyms (words created by taking the first letter(s) of major words in a phrase), 'fuck' isn't one of them. With precious few exceptions, words of acronymic origin date from the 20th century and no earlier. It's almost guaranteed, therefore, any word from before the time of automobiles did not spring to life from a series of initials becoming so common folks began pronouncing it as its own word.
The acronymic explanation of the origin of 'fuck' takes one of two paths: Fornication Under Consent of the King or For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge. Dealing with the first of these, though it's pleasing to think couples looking to procreate in those Dark Old Days had to first obtain the sovereign's persmission and then post a notice of what they were up to so all the neighbors could enjoy a good snicker, a moment's thought should set that one to rest. Were the king responsible for handing out such permissions, he wouldn't have time to do anything else (or even to keep up with that one task). Likewise, though there have been times when conquering forces have engaged in rape, it wasn't by royal fiat at the behest of a king looking to further dispirit the conquered. One last nail in the coffin of the 'fornication under consent of the king' origin comes from the word 'fornication' itself. Though many reasonably conclude fornication is the old-time word for having sex, the term specifically excludes the physical union of man and wife. One can fornicate premaritally or extramaritally, but not intramaritally. In light of this, any claim wedded couples trying to entice the stork down their chimney were granted fornication permits crashes against the rock of the wrong word being used.
The second path has the word deriving from the short form of 'For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge.' Variously, adulterers, rapists, child molesters, and them wot engaged in premarital hanky panky were, as part of their punishment, sentenced to wear a placard announcing their wrongdoing. According to this origin, adulterers locked the stocks in village squares sported 'FUCK' around their necks as did rapists walking around in prison yards.
Here, the word that trips that proposed etymology is the least obvious one — 'For.' Though displaying miscreants in stocks and public shaming were popular punishments in 18th and 19th century USA, any placards left either on the prisoner or on top of the stock would list the crime succinctly. Thus, someone who'd been caught filtching would have a placard that said 'Thief' or 'Stealing,' maybe even 'Stealing a Cow,' but never one that read 'For Stealing a Cow.' The 'For' would be superfluous.
Okay, so the word didn't come to us from an acronym; where did it come from then?
According to the alt.usage.english FAQ:
[Fuck] is a very old word, recorded in English since the 15th century (few acronyms predate the 20th century), with cognates in other Germanic languages. The Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang (Random House, 1994, ISBN 0-394-54427-7) cites Middle Dutch fokken = "to thrust, copulate with"; Norwegian dialect fukka = "to copulate"; and Swedish dialect focka = "to strike, push, copulate" and fock = "penis". Although German ficken may enter the picture somehow, it is problematic in having e-grade, or umlaut, where all the others have o-grade or zero-grade of the vowel.
AHD1, following Pokorny, derived "feud", "fey", "fickle", "foe", and "fuck" from an Indo-European root peig2 = "hostile"; but AHD2 and AHD3 have dropped this connection for "fuck" and give no pre-Germanic etymon for it. Eric Partridge, in the 7th edition of Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English (Macmillan, 1970), said that "fuck" "almost certainly" comes from the Indo-European root *peuk- = "to prick" (which is the source of the English words "compunction", "expunge", "impugn", "poignant", "point", "pounce", "pugilist", "punctuate", "puncture", "pungent", and "pygmy"). Robert Claiborne, in The Roots of English: A Reader's Handbook of Word Origin (Times, 1989) agrees that this is "probably" the etymon. Problems with such theories include a distribution that suggests a North-Sea Germanic areal form rather than an inherited one; the murkiness of the phonetic relations; and the fact that no alleged cognate outside Germanic has sexual connotations.
In plain English, this means the term's origin is likely Germanic, even though no one can as yet point to the precise word it came down to us from out of all the possible candidates. Further, a few scholars hold differing pet theories outside of the Germanic origin one, theories which appear to have some holes in them.
'Fuck' is an old word, even if it's been an almost taboo term for most of its existence. It was around; it just wasn't used in common speech all that much, let alone written down and saved for posterity. Likely its meaning contributed to its precise origin becoming lost in the mists of time — scholars of old would have been in no hurry to catalogue the growth of this word, and by the time it forced its way into even the most respectable of dictionaries, its parentage was long forgotten.
The earliest cite in The Oxford English Dictionary dates from 1503. John Ayto, in his Dictionary of Word Origins cites a proper name (probably a joke or parody name) of 'John le Fucker' from 1250, quite possibly proof the word we casually toss about today was being similarly tossed about 750 years ago.
Spurious etymologies such as this one satisfy our urge for completion — we want to believe such a naughty word has a salacious back story, something replete with stocks and adulterers, or fornication permits handed out by a king. How utterly prosaic to find out 'fuck' came to us the way most words sneak into the language — it jumped the fence from another tongue, was spelled and pronounced a bit differently in its new home, and over time drifted into being a distinct word recognized by everyone. Takes all the fun out of it, it does.
Acronymic explanations catch our fancy due to the "hidden knowledge" factor. Most of us feel a bit of a glow when we think we're in possession of information others aren't privy to, and when a titillating or apt story is thrown in behind the trivia, these things just take off. "Tips" does not come from "To insure prompt service," yet that canard is widely believed. Likewise, "golf" didn't spring to life out of "Gentlemen only; ladies forbidden," and "posh" did not take its place in our vocabulary from a shortening of "Port out; starboard home."
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What the fuck… don’t fuck with me… fuckin A… flying fuck… fuck off… fuck you… fuck….
I was going through my referrers log and checking searches that yielded Madfish Willie's. A google search for historical origins of fuck yields Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon: Fuck You! as #5 result. Here is a recap of some of the top results and sonn we'll all know where the fuckfuck came from.
Description: Folk etymology
Status: False
Circulating since: 1960s
Analysis: See below
Origin of the F-Word
Variant #1
Email text contributed by T. McInnis, 22 March 2001:
In ancient England a person could not have sex unless you had consent of the King (unless you were in the Royal Family). When anyone wanted to have a baby, they got consent of the King, the King gave them a placard that they hung on their door while they were having sex. The placard had F.*.*.*. (Fornication Under Consent of the King) on it. Now you know where that came from.
Variant #2
From a Usenet posting, 1 Nov 1990:
The word fuck comes from colonial times, when someone would be punished for 'prostitution' It was an acronym for the words 'For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge' FUCK was written on the stocks that held these criminals because For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge was too long to go on the stocks.
Variant #3
From a Usenet posting, 12 Oct 1990:
I always heard that "F.U.C.K." originated in the 1800's in London, when they used to charge prostitutes "For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge". So officer got sick and tired of writing those, um, lessee, 26 characters, not including spaces, so it got abbreviated FUCK and stuck.
Comments: Having consulted the definitive reference work on this subject (yes, there is such a thing: "The F-Word" by Jesse Sheidlower, published by Random House in 1999), we feel confident in dismissing the above claims as imaginative bunk.
The word "fuck" did not originate as an acronym. It crept, fully formed, into the English language from Dutch or Low German around the 15th century — it's impossible to say precisely when because so little documentary evidence exists, probably due to the fact that the word was so taboo throughout its early history that people were afraid to write it down. (The American Heritage Dictionary says its first known occurrence in English literature was in the satirical poem, "Flen, Flyss" (c.1500), where it was both disguised as a Latin word and encrypted — "gxddbov," deciphered as "fuccant," pseudo-Latin for "they fuck.")
According to Sheidlower, the earliest print mentions of supposed acronymic origins for the F-word appeared in the 1960s. An underground newspaper called the East Village Other published this version in 1967: It's not commonly known that the word "fuck" originated as a medical diagnostic notation on the documests of soldiers in the British Imperial Army. When a soldier reported sick and was found to have V.D., the abbreviation F.U.C.K. was stamped on his documents. It was short for "Found Under Carnal Knowledge."
Two more variants appeared in a letter published in Playboy magazine in 1970: My friend claims that the word fuck originated in the 15th Century, when a married couple needed permission from the king to procreate. Hence, Fornication Under Consent of the King. I maintain that it's an acronym of a law term used in the 1500s that referred to rape as "Forced Unnatural Carnal Knowledge."
Undoubtedly the most famous use of this etymological travesty was as the title of the 1991 Van Halen album, "For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge."
Port Daily bullshitted on January 28, 2004 at 12:09 PM
2
Port - try speaking like a native, thusly:
Hey Bartender! Where the FUCK are my FUCKING Britney Spears pictures, you fucker!
And Bartender, I hope you're back on your blogging feet soon. I feel empty inside because of your lack of posting.
Wait... No, it's the lack of beer. Bartender! Refill!
Harvey bullshitted on January 29, 2004 at 09:42 AM
3
Fuck that, I'm too busy fucking fucking britney spears, you fuckers! So fuck off eh?
Port Daily bullshitted on January 29, 2004 at 05:58 PM
4
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What the fuck… don’t fuck with me… fuckin' A… flying fuck… fuck off… fuck you… fuck….
I was doing a check through my referrers yesterday and checking searches that pointed people to Madfish Willie's. A google search for historical origins of fuck yields Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon: Fuck You! as #5 result. Only #5?!? Well, we must do something about this. Therefore, I will do a recap of some of the top results and we'll all know where the fuckfuck came from.
Lauren Mahon
English 512
Prof. Anne Curzan
November 30, 2000
Four-Letter Folk Etymology and the “Bald Anglo-Saxon Epithet”
The cultural and historical descriptor “Anglo-Saxon” as a way to classify the common four-letter obscenities has been in use for at least the last seventy years. The Oxford English Dictionary cites one of the first recorded uses of the adjective in this sense from 1927, printed in the 1928 linguistics journal American Speech: “Several Laborites were suspended in the House of Commons. . . to the accompaniment of. . . the hurling of bald Anglo-Saxon epithets traditionally classed as unparliamentary.” [1] This delightfully descriptive phrase reveals that it was a class of words rather than an exact set of pinpointed terms which fell under the rubric “Anglo-Saxon”—although in that same year the Saturday Review of Literature could refer to “[a]ll nine of the tabooed Anglo-Saxon monosyllables” and presumably bring to mind a specific list. But is this usage a case of folk etymology run rampant? Which of the common four-letter words do stem from Old English? More importantly, why would a descriptive word pointing back a millennium—to an etymological origin shared by a great number of the most common words in modern English—come into usage at all?
In his satisfyingly thorough investigation of the history of an often overlooked area of language, Geoffrey Hughes attempts to ascertain precisely which of the four-letter words can be traced to Old English. Hughes’ use of the term “four-letter words” seems to apply expressly to words relating to excretion or sex—his list of the earliest recorded instances of the use of individual “four-letter words” includes words of varying lengths describing the male sexual organ (cock, tarse, weapon, limb, yard, tail, tool, prick, and penis) but excludes some actual “four-letter” words that are perhaps less offensive today (hell, damn) (Hughes 25). With those limitations, Hughes proclaims that “[o]nly shit, arse, and turd can genuinely be termed ‘Anglo-Saxon’ words on an etymological and historical basis” (25). While it seems clear that any determination of how many of the four-letter words originate in Old English depends entirely on which words one classifies as “four-letter words,” what is certain is that any list of the common obscenities will include both words of genuine Anglo-Saxon etymology and words of a different historical background altogether.
Following Hughes, then, we know that turd, shit, and arse can definitively be traced to Old English. To this list we can add cock (which, at least according to the recorded use, was not used to refer to the penis until the 17th century) and hell, along with the lesser four-letter term fart, which first appears in Middle English but has been hypothesized to have its root in the extrapolated Old English verb feortan (Hughes 27). Words that do not have a direct origin in Old English include fuck, of uncertain etymology but with possible roots in both Latin and Old Norse, the Latinate terms cunt and damn, and words of definite later origin (crap, dick). If the majority of the four-letter obscenities do come from Old English, then, perhaps the association is not as “erroneous” as Geoffrey Hughes would have it: Hughes cites the judgment in the case of The United States v. One Book Called ‘Ulysses’ to comment disparagingly on the “simplistic. . . equation of ‘four-letter and ‘Anglo-Saxon’ [which] is surprisingly common, even in educated circles” (Hughes 35).
The widespread acceptance of the idea that four-letter obscenities stemmed from Old English actually contains more reasoning than Hughes cares to admit. In the first place, the very nature of these words made them less likely to be researched or discussed: in her psychoanalytic investigation into “dirty words”, Ariel Arango points out that fuck, cock, and cunt “are, of course, expelled from any decent dictionary, and it would be unimaginable to hear them issue from the lips of the teacher in any classroom” (Arango 120). The currency of the idea that obscenities were Anglo-Saxon flourished during a time in which dictionaries did not include such words, and the etymologies would have been both difficult and potentially viewed as perverse to pursue. The 1933 supplement to the OED excluded words such as “cunt ‘female sex organs’; the curse ‘menstrual period’; to fuck ‘have intercourse with’” (A. S. C. Ross, quoted in Hughes 238-239). In the second place, the term “Anglo-Saxon” was already in use, according to today’s OED, as referring to forms of English that were “plain, unvarnished, [and] forthright.” The OED provides an 1866 quote making this use clear: “Occasionally a word of honest, hearty Anglo-Saxon, or a ‘bit of the brogue’, to remind you that you are not in Naples, but in New Orleans.” While many critics (including myself) have dissected the reference to “Anglo-Saxon monosyllables” as an attempt at folk etymology, what we may in fact have is a folk etymology derived not from a theory of precise historical origins but from the idea that words originating in Old English are in general more direct and plain than those imported from the Romance languages.
This generalization can in fact be backed up by an investigation into why the four-letter words as monosyllables beginning with a typical set of letters have remained active for, in some cases, over a thousand years. Geoffrey Hughes’ suggestion runs along these lines: “Many of the most used [swearing] terms in English now start with the letters ‘b’ and ‘f’, for reasons which are not easily explained. Could it be that voiced bilabial plosives and fricatives are the most satisfactory phonetic expression of emotional release?” (23) Burges Johnson’s contemplations in The Lost Art of Profanity follow along similar lines: he quotes the “wise philosopher, William J. Boardman”, as a source of the idea that man’s “first threatening aggressive noises were full of G’s and K’s and P’s and H’s and harsh sibilants. Such noises had the effect of a blow; they needed no dictionary to prove they were primed with all the bad magic of an evil wish” (Johnson 22). H. L. Mencken’s introduction to Johnson’s reflections implies in a more comical sense that particular words demand to be used in this manner: [W]e have lately seen the heroes of a great moral war march home with a repertory of invective almost tragically thin and banal. Like any other Christian soldiers they used a great deal of foul language in field and camp, but very little of it got beyond a few four-letter words. These four-letter words were so cruelly overworked that, though they went to war with narrowly restricted significances, they returned meaning almost as many things as muszage-guabzu, the Babylonian Word from the Abyss. (Johnson 9)
Even minimal contact with Old English points out the frequency of plosive and fricative consonants, and observation alone demonstrates that the inflected forms of Old English tend to be briefer (perhaps as a result of the use of vowel changes rather than suffixes) than the inflected forms of a language such as Latin. These characteristics of Old English may alone suffice to make the connection of short, blunt words with the Anglo-Saxon tongue not very far-fetched.
If we agree that words in Old English tended to be shorter and begin with more powerful consonants, it seems clear that the Old English versions of those four-letter words it did provide to modern English would be likely to have an entirely different sense in the Old English period. What limited information scholars can determine about word usage seems to reinforce this idea. The words for the definitively Old English terms turd, shit, and arse (tord, scite, and ears) occur most frequently in medical texts and leechdoms—scittan in the sense of diarrhea, for example, occurs in Bald’s Leechbook as a descriptive term, without any obvious colloquial qualities: “Lacedomas wiÞ Þon Þe mete untela mylte & cirre on fule & yfle wætan oÞÞe scittan” (OE Corpus). Tord and ears, as well, occur in these sorts of texts as straightforward descriptions of functions and anatomy. Robert Burchfield points out that “[t]he medical writers of the period used a wide range of mostly explicit terminology for the excretory and sexual organs and functions,” but correctly adds that “[t]he degrees of intimacy or delicacy implied in such terminology. . . are difficult to determine” (Burchfield 21).
Norman Blake’s investigation of how the English language was used in medieval literature explicitly proposes that it is precisely colloquialisms and so-called “dirty words” that are less likely to remain in what we have today of the Old English corpus. As the use of Old English in teaching colloquia points out, the most formal and respected language for use in writing was Latin, and English was most likely to be used textually as a tool to attain mastery of the classical tongue. Throughout the Anglo-Saxon period, English was only beginning to be used as a language in which serious work might be written. Blake argues that [w]riters of English suffered from an inferiority complex in regard to both Latin and French, an inferiority engendered by its comparative poverty and instability . . . . Far from making his written language more colloquial, an author was intent on giving it the dignity and status which he attributed to Latin and French. (Blake 43)
Burchfield’s list of Old English words for parts of the body having to do with sex or excretion gives the most common terms for male and female genitalia as gesceapu, getawa, geweald, and gecyndelic. A search of the Old English Corpus for these terms makes it evident that they were most likely euphemistic words: gecyndelic, which can be translated directly as “proper body” or perhaps “noble body,” occurs 72 times in the Corpus, with the majority of those uses (all references outside the leechdoms) referring to a sacred quality of God.[2]
If words describing sex or excretion were—so far as we are able to tell a millennium later—used straightforwardly in Old English, the question with which we are left is how and whether the Anglo-Saxons encountered the idea of obscenity and which words were weighted with taboo or vulgarity in the culture. Of course, for the very reasons Norman Blake presents, it is very difficult to determine the answer to this question. In his focus on the “Germanic heritage” of swearing, Geoffrey Hughes seizes upon charms, oaths, vows, and the ritual exchange of insults known as “flyting” to determine the ways in which what Burchfield calls “sceandword (opprobrious words)” (Burchfield 20) operated. He chooses these foci precisely because it is nearly impossible, given the limitations of the Old English texts remaining, to single out words that may have had negative or vulgar connotations in the period. The very focus of later “obscenities” on the major taboos of sex and religion, however, point to precisely why it might be meaningless to search for Old English variations of “four-letter words.” Our modern-day definition of what constitutes a “four-letter word” is based on our own choice of obscenity. As Geoffrey Hughes reminds us, “societal taboos. . . reflect differing attitudes towards major forces which sustain, alter, or threaten life. These can be very diversified or specific, but commonly involve the deity, death, madness, sex, excretion, and strangers” (11). Thus what is obscene in the 21st century may in fact be precisely that which is most unlikely to have been taboo a millennium earlier. Due to the limitations of the texts remaining from the Anglo-Saxon period, it may be that we will never know what word might have been rude or vulgar from the point of a Byrthnoth or a Beowulf. The only assumptions we can make are that based on the nature of the culture as we know it, vulgarities or obscenities were likely to be oriented toward certain aspects of society—and according to Hughes, the relevant arena for Old English swearing lies in “Germanic heroism” and its “intense commitment to language and honour” (52).
Works Cited:
Arango, Ariel. Dirty Words: Psychoanalytic Insights. Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, 1989.
Blake, Norman. The English Language in Medieval Literature. London: J. M. Dent & Sons,
1977.
Burchfield, Robert. “An Outline History of Euphemisms in English.” Fair of Speech: The Uses
of Euphemism. Ed. D. J. Enright. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1985. 13-31.
Hughes, Geoffrey. Swearing: A Social History of Foul Language, Oaths and Profanity in
English. London: Penguin, 1998.
Johnson, Burges. The Lost Art of Profanity. Intr. H. L. Mencken. Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1948.
OED Online. 2nd ed. 1998.
The Oxford English Dictionary. 29 Nov. 2000 .
Old English Corpus. Ed. Antonette di Paolo Healey. 2000 release. April 25, 2000. Dictionary
of Old English Project, Centre for Medieval Studies, U of Toronto. 29 Nov. 2000 .
[1] OED definitions and quotations come from the online version; see Works Cited page for details.
[2] It may be worthwhile, however, to note the similarity of the syllable ‘cynd’ to cunt, which is generally traced to the Latin cunnus.
Hey... fuck you... it's fucking clearly fucking marked where this fucking info came from.
The Bartender bullshitted on January 28, 2004 at 12:53 AM
7
I'm... I'm so proud. SO DAMN PROUD! Good thing that you copied it over here, too, because now that I'm out of grad school my UW page has vanished. Thanks for the giggles. :>
Good Point. Anyways, this was where i met her. You can join for free as well www.redtricircle.com
click here bullshitted on March 12, 2005 at 03:21 AM
9
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The bartenders at the little Dallas Club in San Antonio, in addition to being the fastest fucking bartenders that ever lived, were all a bunch of smart-ass, rude, fucking pricks! We were Dick's Last Resort bartenders before Dick's Last Resort was a wet dream. Hell, fuck Dick's, we would probably have been fired from Dick's for being to rude!
So, The Bartender accepts this medal on behalf of all my fellow bartenders from the Legendary Dallas Club at Fredericksburg / Wurzbach in San Antonio
What should our next award be and to whom shall it go?
Be on the look out for Madfish Willie's awards presentation of The Homers next week. You'll get a chance to nominate, design and award a Homer to your favorite or least favorite blogger!
So, assuming this really IS the Bartender, then this would be the exception to the rule about the length of a man's fingers being related to the length...
Anyway, I agree with Trey. Creepy.
Harvey bullshitted on January 24, 2004 at 05:08 PM
4
That's not me but my thingy is longer than his finger. They don't call me Shorty because I wear long shorts, that's for sure. His finger is a little short on one end.
The Bartender bullshitted on January 28, 2004 at 12:56 AM
5
Hey shut the FUCK up already, you short fingered fuckers!
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Here is a list that tells you when you are have officially become a drunkard. It comes from Modern Drunkurd Magazine.
Which one are YOU today?
Numbers 181-207 of 207:
You have a born-on date tattooed on your beer gut.
You hold a bottle of hair spray and say, "Man, if you were ice cold."
You're addressed by three separate liquor store owners as "the guy who paid for my houseboat."
You often confuse the word breakfast with Bloody Marys, i.e., "What are we going to have for Bloody Marys this morning?"
You know that liquor is especially tasty when it comes from the secret hiding place in your roommates's closet.
You can, in a pinch, construct a fully-operational keg tap from a cigarette lighter, two clothespins and lots of love.
You get in a heated conversation with your barstool neighbor about the proper way to vomit from a moving vehicle.
At 2am you proclaim, "The party ain't over until the fat lady says no!"
You need a cosigner to open a bar tab.
The monkey on your back is in rehab.
You know that, with a bouncer's assistance, man in capable of short-term flight.
You have recurring dream you're hired by the Guinness\Playboy Research foundation to prove twenty pints a day improves your sex life.
You often take your lover for romantic strolls among the picturesque aisles of liquor superstores.
You will eat a bug for a shot.
You know wine is mentioned in the Bible over 250 times. Perrier? Not once!
You have strained cigarette-butt infested beer through your teeth.
You consider 3.2 beer on Sunday as Uncle Sam's cruel taunt.
You can hear someone whisper "free beer" from three blocks away.
You know the heartbreak of watching the bartender dump the spill tray.
You call the bartending academy, inquiring as to what they do with their mistakes.
You refer to your refrigerator as "the stand-up beer cooler."
You give directions with liquor stores and bars the the major landmarks, i.e., "You'll pass Argonaut's Liquors on the left and Scooter's on the right, then turn right on the street between the Satire Lounge and the Lion's Lair, then continue until you see the tree that looks like a huge martini glass."
You think vomiting is the body's way of making room for the next round.
The first thing you look for on a wine label is the alcohol content.
You consider Aqua Velvet a daring after-hours liqueur.
You recognize last call as a secret signal that all unattended drinks are fair game.
When someone says "expensive wine," you think "gallon jug."
Four years of research and three hours of writing went into your masterful college thesis, "MD 20\20: Self-Esteem Enhancer For the Leisure Classes, or Cancer Cure for the Working Masses?"
Tomorrow: A round-up and gratuitous LinkFest of past claimers of the numbers!
I'm thinking 192 would be that Guinness-swiller, Mike the Marine
196 - not exactly, but I once mistook the bottle of Miller that someone was using for a spittoon for a legitmate beverage.
Harvey bullshitted on January 24, 2004 at 05:12 PM
3
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Here is a list that tells you when you are have officially become a drunkard. It comes from Modern Drunkurd Magazine.
Which one are YOU today?
Numbers 161-180 of 207:
You know that time is never wasted when you’re wasted all the time.
You use Calvin Klien’s new aftershave, but don’t really care for the aftertaste.
You refer to your mouth as your "booze hole."
You wish bartenders would spend more time ‘tending’ and less time ‘barring.’
The first thing you say when you walk in a bar is, "I’m not still 86’d, am I?"
You’d go to Mass more often if they weren’t so stingy with the wine.
When you were in high school you had a poster of W.C. Fields on your bedroom wall.
You drank ten bottles of wine last week and didn’t need a corkscrew once.
You prefer Hamm’s and eggs for breakfast, minus the eggs.
The rotgut whiskey you buy is so disgusting you have to drink the first half the bottle just so you’ll be drunk enough to put up with the taste of the second half.
Whenever someone starts reading a bottle of Jack Daniels you say, "Quit cheating!"
You don’t sniff the cork, you chew it.
Your career is interfering with your drinking.
You get so drunk Bud Light starts tasting like beer.
You read this magazine until you fall asleep, then use it as a blanket.
You heard you get drunker at higher altitudes so you always drink on top of the dumpster.
Your alarm clock is a garbage truck.
You’ve worked out a devious plot to steal Einstein’s brain. So you can drink the alcohol it’s stored in.
You masturbate to the liquor ads in Playboy.
You show up at the flu clinic to investigate rumors of "free shots."
Harvey bullshitted on January 23, 2004 at 09:46 AM
2
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Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
Skill Badge: Bender Badge
Motto:“Alcohol above all!”
Steady employment, familial disdain and outraged spouses mean nothing to this fearless stalwart as he launches weeklong campaigns against liquor and liver alike..
Well having just returned from vacation where the drink of choice was Rum...lots of Rum...
I'd like to thank you for the award whilst my liver just says "help".
Wish you all could have been there
Darren bullshitted on January 26, 2004 at 07:57 PM
5
Well having just returned from vacation where the drink of choice was Rum...lots of Rum...
I'd like to thank you for the award whilst my liver just says "help".
Wish you all could have been there.
Darren bullshitted on January 26, 2004 at 07:58 PM
6
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Here is a list that tells you when you are have officially become a drunkard. It comes from Modern Drunkurd Magazine.
Which one are YOU today?
Numbers 141-160 of 207:
You make a point of never drinking before noon. Which is convenient, because you’re never up before three in the afternoon.
One of your hobbies is sitting down and calculating exactly how much liquor your next paycheck would buy at the liquormart. Just out of curiosity, of course.
Your co-workers start whispering with concern when you don’t come in with hangover.
Your boss tells you to "Shape up or ship out," and you reply, "You mean like a cruise ship? Are the drinks expensive on cruise ships?"
The whole terrorism deal became very clear to you when you found out muslims aren’t allowed to drink.
You wish you were closer to Jesus, especially when he’s doing his wine to water thing.
A cold cement floor looks comfortable and inviting.
You wish temperance leagues still sang anti-drinking religious hymns outside bars, because, you know, it’d be a very funny thing to watch while getting hammered.
You think alcohol-fueled automobiles are the wave of the future because, hey, it certainly works for you.
You think a wrong number is an adequate excuse to go on a bender.
"Going out for a beer or two" sometimes means waking up in Vegas three days later.
You hated Ted Kennedy until you realized he can probably outdrink you.
You always confuse the words picture and pitcher, especially when someone says, "Hey, take my picture."
You happen to share the same home town, ethnicity, lifestyle, opinions, occupation or whatever-the-hell of whoever happens to be buying the drinks.
You consider vodka a chaser.
Your roommates say good morning to you and you haven’t been to bed yet.
You volunteered to work for free for NASA when you heard about the gas clouds in space containing billions of gallons of alcohol.
You know a bottle of Jack under your bed is worth a million bottles in the liquor store after midnight.
You have told a bartender: "I didn’t hear anyone yell last call. How could I? I was in the bathroom, vomiting in your urinal."
Half the bouncers in town know exactly how much you weigh.
#144 - they are only expensive when you book the wrong cruise. Certainly anyone here would never consider anything but an "all drinks included" voyage, with a 24 hour bar on deck.
I'd rather be stranded on a liferaft with no food or water than stuck on a boat with a maxed out bar tab and no more credit cards...
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Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
Skill Badge: Expert Wingman
Motto:“Alcohol above all!”
The most valuable ally any drunk can have, this heroic hooch head will distract, disempower and, yes, romantically engage the hideous sidekick so his pal may seize an alluring prize.
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Marty, you fucking dickhead! Don't put that shit in my comments... every fucking weirdo on the internet will be over here jacking-off now. Payback is a bitch!
The Bartender bullshitted on January 20, 2004 at 02:35 PM
5
Keep your hands where i can see em, barkeep, and don't serve any creamy drinks tonite!
HELL yeah, I'm with Margi..#121 IS the reason....oh, and when are we expecting the next Champagne Room fiasco? Isn't it mudwrestling COTBBs on Wednesday nights?
roulette bullshitted on August 07, 2005 at 10:08 AM
8
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For your entertainment today, I have a funny list of stuff that happens after your fifth drink. I can't remember where I grabbed this from, therefore I cannot give the proper credits. I think it is from Modern Drunkurd Magazine. If you've seen it somewhere else, let me know.
Which one are YOU today?
Numbers 101-120 of 207:
You know that vodka is tasteless going down, but memorable coming up.
You say when your drunk what you think when you’re sober.
You know the best beer in the world is the one in your hand.
Beer does not make you fat. It makes you lean— against bars, poles and tables.
You always drink Irish Coffee for breakfast because it contains all four adult food groups: fat, sugar, caffeine and alcohol.
You don't drink anymore . . . of course, you don't drink any less, either.
Your bartender never has to ask, "Do you want another?"
You recognize that vomiting is just the body’s way of making room for another round.
You distrust camels or anything else that can go a week without a drink.
You're favorite method of dieting is the "Slim Jim": Ultra Slim-Fast shakes made with Jim Beam.
Absolut wants to run an ad featuring a picture of your liver in the shape of a bottle.
You only drink to get rid of hangovers, and sometimes it takes all night.
You know if you give up drinking you won’t actually live longer — it’ll just seem like longer.
You spend ninety percent of your paycheck on drinking and waste the rest.
You fell down two flights of stairs and didn’t spill a drop.
You don’t mind blacking out because it makes Sunday confession much less embarrassing.
When you wake up hungover you’re afraid you’ll die. Half an hour later you’re afraid you’ll live.
You wonder why people need friends when you can just sit in a room and drink all day.
You believe the only Absolut(e) in life is vodka.
You went on a diet, swore off drinking and bar food, and in fourteen days you lost two weeks.
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Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
Skill Badge: Croix de Keg
Motto:“Alcohol above all!”
When lightweights have given up, this stout drunkard will lift the keg, slur, “It’s only half done,” vomit over his left shoulder, then singlehandedly do battle with his aluminum adversary until it floats empty and despondent in its icy tomb.
I'm thinkin' you should give one to Mike the Marine, too. When it's Guinness, he hoists a mean keg.
Harvey bullshitted on January 16, 2004 at 09:23 AM
2
So I'm guessing that you've sampled the beer already? I haven't checked my email yet, but I'm interested to hear your feedback on it, positive or negative.
physics geek bullshitted on January 16, 2004 at 11:14 AM
3
Good Point. Anyways, this was where i met her. You can join for free as well www.redtricircle.com
click here bullshitted on March 12, 2005 at 03:22 AM
4
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For your entertainment today, I have a funny list of stuff that happens after your fifth drink. I can't remember where I grabbed this from, therefore I cannot give the proper credits. If you've seen it somewhere else, let me know.
Which one are YOU today?
Numbers 81-100 of 207:
You woke up on New Years Eve with the resolution of finding out which bars open earliest.
Get mad when your family calls you a
wino because they know damn well you prefer whiskey.
You’re definition of a problem drinker is guy who won’t buy you a round.
You hate the person you become when you black out, because, you know, that fucker drinks all your beer.
You know hangovers only last a day, but a good drinking story lives on forever.
You don’t like to think of it as blacking out. You prefer to think of it as exercising the lizard brain.
The only useful thing you got out of an A.A. meeting was learning how to identify your enablers. Because, hey, those guys are most likely to buy you a drink.
You distrust any wine that doesn’t give you a decent hangover.
A good drinking buddy will bail you out of jail, but a great drinking buddy will be sitting in the cell beside you, saying, "Man, that was awesome!"
The last words you remember each night are, "Hold my beer and watch this!"
You’re disappointed when you go to a funeral and there’s no keg.
You refer to your mouth as your "booze hole."
You’ve told Jehovah’s Witnesses, "Of course, I want to go to Heaven. I’m sure it’s awesome. God does pick up the tab every night, right?"
You once got so drunk you dreamed you got fired and broke up with your girlfriend — and it all came true!
You regularly ask bartenders, "So, how are the spill mats looking tonight? Anything good in there?"
Someone tells you they don’t drink anymore, and you bravely respond, "Don’t worry about it, buddy, I’ll take up your slack!"
You prefer vodka that comes in the handy plastic squeeze-size bottles.
The bartender asks for your I.D. just to see how long it'll take you to find your pants.
Two weeks into the bender you found out "Drink Canada Dry" was a corporate slogan, not a challenge.
For the money you’ve spent on Thunderbird, you could have bought the car.
a professional, fast and reliable wow power leveling and wow gold company has been created for years. cheap wow power leveling, When you first start a game of World of Warcraft, wow gold, you will be taken to your race's starting area. Cheap World of Warcraft Power Leveling, All the races except trolls and gnomes begin in a unique location. wow power leveling Those two races have to share starting locales with the good orcs and dwarves, respectively. wow powerleveling, After watching a brief in-game cutscene introducing your race, you are set loose upon the world.
Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
Skill Badge: Vermouth Wings
Motto:“Alcohol above all!”
When the keg is dead and the vodka vanquished, this plucky lush will stare a bottle of vermouth in the fancy label and say, “Fuck it, it has alcohol in it, right?” And, vile shot after vile shot, he will take that bottle down.
[This is presented to: Trey Givens - who else would drink vermouth?]
a professional, fast and reliable wow power leveling and wow gold company has been created for years. cheap wow power leveling, When you first start a game of World of Warcraft, wow gold, you will be taken to your race's starting area. Cheap World of Warcraft Power Leveling, All the races except trolls and gnomes begin in a unique location. wow power leveling Those two races have to share starting locales with the good orcs and dwarves, respectively. wow powerleveling, After watching a brief in-game cutscene introducing your race, you are set loose upon the world.
For your entertainment today, I have a funny list of stuff that happens after your fifth drink. I can't remember where I grabbed this from, therefore I cannot give the proper credits. If you've seen it somewhere else, let me know.
Which one are YOU today?
Numbers 61-80 of 207:
You’ve discovered that teaching your dog to shoplift from liquor stores was not nearly as hard as teaching him to distinguish between Grey Goose and McCormick’s.
You were against going to war with Iraq until you found out those poor fuckers aren’t allowed to drink.
The first thing you thought when you woke up yesterday was, "Wow, look at all that gum stuck under the bar!"
Your girlfriend left you because you accidentally cried out "Glenfiddich" while making love.
Your beer back comes with a tap.
You conduct weekly "assisted short-term flight" experiments every weekend. With the help of various bouncers.
You’re regularly mobbed by autograph hungry alley winos.
You were the first person in line at the flu clinic because you heard they were giving away free shots.
You like tequila with a lime — or dirt, or a hamster or whatever, so long as there’s tequila involved.
You come home sober and your dog bites you.
The cafeteria in the detox center has a sandwich named after you.
You can’t recognize your best friend unless he’s leaning against a bar. With a drink in his hand. Drunk.
You like a splash of coffee in your morning whiskey.
You can blow a .08 BAC from twenty feet away.
You take swim trunks to brewery tours.
You’re kept awake at night by the sound of your liver crying.
You prefer cold showers because the ice in your drink doesn’t melt as fast.
You’re shocked and confounded to discover they actually sell Coke without Jack Daniels.
When a cop asks you to walk a straight line, you ask, "Which one?"
You tried getting out of a DUI by putting a beer label on your arm and telling the cop you’re off the booze and on the patch.
Number 77 is pretty key, but I find that if you keep an ice bucket outside the shower and hold your drink outside as well, you can still lie down under a stream of warm water.
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Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
The Bukowski Award
Motto: “Alcohol above all!”
The highest award a drunkard can receive, this medal is given to those who have conducted a lifelong campaign against every manner of booze, hooch, brew and vino. No fortified wine is too vile, no rotgut too evil, no beer too green for this master of benders and barroom brawls. He is the flickering light that is the inspiration of common drunks the world over.
a professional, fast and reliable wow power leveling and wow gold company has been created for years. cheap wow power leveling, When you first start a game of World of Warcraft, wow gold, you will be taken to your race's starting area. Cheap World of Warcraft Power Leveling, All the races except trolls and gnomes begin in a unique location. wow power leveling Those two races have to share starting locales with the good orcs and dwarves, respectively. wow powerleveling, After watching a brief in-game cutscene introducing your race, you are set loose upon the world.
For your entertainment today, I have a funny list of stuff that happens after your fifth drink. I can't remember where I grabbed this from, therefore I cannot give the proper credits. If you've seen it somewhere else, let me know.
Which one is Harvey today?
Numbers 41-60 of 207:
You’re stalked by alcoholic vampires.
You have never screwed a cap back onto a liquor bottle.
Your friends pretend to be bartenders, just so you’ll pay attention to them.
Your personal mantra is, "Where there’s a swill, there’s a sway."
You suffer from barthritis— every night you get stiff in another joint.
You don’t recognize the difference between "waking up" and "coming to."
You donate a pint of blood and the hospital has to card the patient they give it to.
Your liver enters itself in a Tough Man competition.
You wear Hawaiian shirts because it’s tougher to see vomit stains on them.
Going out drinking with you is covered by your friends’ insurance.
As a child your dad helped you learn math by first explaining a four-count.
Your personal math system is based on the number six, i.e.: "I’ll take a twelver of Big Macs, with a sixer of those without cheese."
You use visualization techniques to master beer bongs.
In high school, you were voted most likely to drink in grade school.
2 for 1 is your lucky number.
A perfect date is soft music, a bottle of wine and moi.
A couple times a year you go on a "non-bender."
Before you go out each night you consult a psychic hotline to determine which bartenders will be pouring strong.
Peeling the label off a beer bottle arouses you.
You feel a tinge of pride when someone refers to you as a "shameless alcoholic."
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Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
Legion of the Worm
Motto: “I see you down there, you little bastard.”
No snooty agave grub can daunt the likes of these mescal warriors. Locked in mortal combat with a bottle of the most monstrous of liquors, this liquor legionnaire will guzzle his way through hellish and murky depths and, seizing his rival in his teeth, will announce, “Tastes like chick bllllaaaaaakakak!”
[This is presented to GlennRio - who taugt me how to tend bar and how to drink Cuervo gold striaght up with a coke back! Ack!!]
a professional, fast and reliable wow power leveling and wow gold company has been created for years. cheap wow power leveling, When you first start a game of World of Warcraft, wow gold, you will be taken to your race's starting area. Cheap World of Warcraft Power Leveling, All the races except trolls and gnomes begin in a unique location. wow power leveling Those two races have to share starting locales with the good orcs and dwarves, respectively. wow powerleveling, After watching a brief in-game cutscene introducing your race, you are set loose upon the world.
For your entertainment today, I have a funny list of stuff that happens after your fifth drink. I can't remember where I grabbed this from, therefore I cannot give the proper credits. If you've seen it somewhere else, let me know.
Which one is Harvey today?
Numbers 21-40 of 207:
The glass isn’t half empty or half full. It just needs to be topped off.
You don’t fall off the wagon—you leap off it while chugging a bottle of cheap bourbon.
You have two personalities: Mr. Responsibility and Mr. I-Think-I’ll-Call-All-My-Old-Girlfriends-While-I'm-Blacked-Out.
The word "rent" loses all meaning after your fifth drink.
You’re so good at "drinking to forget" that you sometimes forget how to walk.
Whenever someone in a suit spills your well bourbon it magically transforms into top shelf scotch on the way to the floor.
You laugh at funerals but weep like a baby whenever you hear about a beer truck overturning.
You’d rather be a bus driver than an astronaut because, hey, there ain’t no beer where they’re going.
You don’t mind when your wife finds you stinking drunk in a bar, because then you can hit her up for a free drink.
Pink elephants get drunk and they see you.
You can get drunk on Scotch tape.
You’re not a hard drinker. It’s the easiest thing you do.
You like to have a drink between drinks.
You’d join AA but your always too drunk too memorize the pledge.
Your sleep number is 151 . . . proof.
You quit drinking once, and it was the worst afternoon of your life.
You won’t eat an olive unless it’s sterilized in gin.
You think Beethoven’s Fifth is a bottle of schnapps.
You’re living a champagne lifestyle on a beer budget. Except you don’t like champagne so you just drink lots and lots of beer.
Harvey bullshitted on January 13, 2004 at 09:31 AM
2
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Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
Prisoner of War Award
Motto:“Yamudderrfuckincopeyeainevendrunkyet.”
“These goddamn handcuffs are too tight,” are the watch-words of this gritty class of drunkard. For even the slyest of boozeheads are sometimes captured by the enemy and forced to endure the hardships of inedible box lunches, malodorous cellmates and mind-numbing counseling sessions common to detox centers and longer-term facilities. With even greater courage, he will call friends who can barely make rent and ask, “Dude, can you post bail?”
a professional, fast and reliable wow power leveling and wow gold company has been created for years. cheap wow power leveling, When you first start a game of World of Warcraft, wow gold, you will be taken to your race's starting area. Cheap World of Warcraft Power Leveling, All the races except trolls and gnomes begin in a unique location. wow power leveling Those two races have to share starting locales with the good orcs and dwarves, respectively. wow powerleveling, After watching a brief in-game cutscene introducing your race, you are set loose upon the world.
For your entertainment today, I have a funny list of stuff that happens after your fifth drink. I can't remember where I grabbed this from, therefore I cannot give the proper credits. If you've seen it somewhere else, let me know.
See if you can pick which one is Harvey!
Numbers 1-20 of 207:
After your fifth drink, you’re like Don Juan with the ladies: They Don Juan nothing to do with you.
You suspect that water, taken in small quantities, isn’t all that dangerous.
You occasionally have meals with your wine.
You wake up every morning at the crack of ice.
You drink to forget you drink.
You distrust camels, or anyone else who can go a week without a drink.
People get drunk by shaking your hand.
You never eat breakfast on an empty stomach.
Beer is the reason you get up every afternoon.
The only drinking problem you have is the two-hands/one-mouth thing.
Your house is so messy because it spins like a top every time you lie down.
You drink to steady yourself, and sometimes you get so steady you can’t move.
You never walk, you just occasionally stagger in a straight line.
You get angry because there’s always so much booze left at the end of your money.
You think that drunks are a lot like chess players, only drunk.
You forgot your fishing pole on your fishing trip and didn’t notice.
You’ve been laid out on more floors than Johnson’s Wax.
Your liver has hired an attorney.
You wish all the world’s parking lots could be somehow turned into lush rain forests, because, you know, it’s hard to hide from cops in a parking lot.
Your favorite bar installed a seat belt on your barstool.
Harvey bullshitted on January 11, 2004 at 10:19 PM
3
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Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
Beer Not Bread Award
Motto:“I’m so hungry I could eat a gallon of whiskey.”
When dire finances dictate a full belly or a fullbore night of drinking, this lionhearted lush never teeters between Top Ramen and twelvers of cheap beer. Keenly aware that food is temporary but memories of debauchery last a lifetime, he will ignore his growling stomach and ask the grocery clerk, “Where’s the beer section?"
[This is presented to me, in my youth, when I did some serious drinking on a nightly basis.]
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Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
Abandoned Drink Rescue Commedation
Motto: “This drink belong to anybody?”
No cocktail or pint need ever fear being callously dumped into spill buckets while this intrepid inebriate is on hand. His ears endlessly tuned to the melting of ice in a neglected cocktail and the dying carbonation of a forgotten pitcher, he will swoop down like a chivalrous Valkyrie or creep up like a stealthy commando to rescue and deliver the orphan to its rightful home—his belly.
[This is presented to Finn the Viking, because he swoops down like a chivalrous Valkyrie]
a professional, fast and reliable wow power leveling and wow gold company has been created for years. cheap wow power leveling, When you first start a game of World of Warcraft, wow gold, you will be taken to your race's starting area. Cheap World of Warcraft Power Leveling, All the races except trolls and gnomes begin in a unique location. wow power leveling Those two races have to share starting locales with the good orcs and dwarves, respectively. wow powerleveling, After watching a brief in-game cutscene introducing your race, you are set loose upon the world.
Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
The Purple Liver
Motto: “The liver is evil and must be punished.”
No amount of blinding pain and visible swelling will sway the recipients of this medal from wholeheartedly attacking that most haughty and insolent of internal organs. “Take that, you bastard, and here comes another!” he will shout at his sworn enemy as he tests its will with jolt after jolt of rotgut tequila.
[This is presented to Matty O'Blackfive from Blackfive- The Paratrooper of Love!. Anyone that drinks 6 beers at a time has just GOT to have a Purple Liver!]
Next Time: Abandoned Drink Rescue Commedation
I'll be taking nominations for this award in the comments!
a professional, fast and reliable wow power leveling and wow gold company has been created for years. cheap wow power leveling, When you first start a game of World of Warcraft, wow gold, you will be taken to your race's starting area. Cheap World of Warcraft Power Leveling, All the races except trolls and gnomes begin in a unique location. wow power leveling Those two races have to share starting locales with the good orcs and dwarves, respectively. wow powerleveling, After watching a brief in-game cutscene introducing your race, you are set loose upon the world.
Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
Last Call Commendation
Motto: “Just one more and I’ll go, honest.”
Unflinchingly ignoring the dire threats and hoarse shouting of bartenders and bouncers alike, these elite drinkers will boldly demand just one more drink, just five more minutes. With their backs against the cold, black night and empty liquor cabinets, they will fight like tigers the dying of the light and the closing of the taps, until, finally they are tossed haplessly into the frightful maw of impending sobriety.
[This is presented to Jeff from BigStick.US Although he's not of legal age yet, I just know this is how he's gonna turn out]
Next Time: The Purple Liver and I'll be taking nominations in the comments!
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Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
Bruised Brain Award
Motto: “I shall never drink again. Never.”
Prized by functional alcoholics, this commendation is awarded to those who rise at ungodly hours with horrific headwounds and gallantly sally forth to hateful jobs to stoically suffer the slings and arrows of suspicious bosses and clanging telephones. Dauntless, they tremor their way through the workday and rally at the bar to extract a cruel revenge on the evil dog that bit them.
Thanks, Bartender..I love the new site! Great job...and thanks for the awarding of the Bruised Brain Award...I think we should have a drink in honor of it being awarded to me...on second though..just hand me the bottle...
Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
Tavern Defense Campain Medal
Motto:“That’s my stool.”
The first line of defense against winos, tourists, weekend-warriors and slumming yuppies, the recipients of this medal man the barstools that are the trenches of every pub. With snide remarks, inside jokes and sidelong glares, these hardened veterans tenaciously defend the bar’s television from subversive programming and prevent thirsty strangers from overwhelming the bartender.
[Shit, it would have taken an Army of these fuckers to keep me from being overwhelmed... I was the fastest bartender that ever lived!]
Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
Beer Goggles of Gallantry
Motto:“No way that’s the same chick!”
In the face of facial warts, extreme obesity, general hideousness and severe damage to their reputations, the recipients of this award bravely advance into public makeout sessions and dark bedrooms to grapple with creatures the sober wouldn’t shake hands with, never mind share bodily fluids.
[That's what Harvey says after spending the night with Fatty Sue!]
Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
Blackout Brigade Medal of Merit
Motto:“I won’t remember you.”
Long after lesser drunks have staggered off to bed, these valorous boozers shout: “Yes, I will have another double shot of tequila!” and gallantly lurch into the inky blackness of oblivion. Fully aware that memories and public respectability are for the timid, they will barely cringe under the whipcrack of the cruel, latter-day revelations of erstwhile friends, missing credit cards and the hateful glares of apparent strangers.
[Sounds just like Matty O'Blackfive after a long night at Madfish Willie's!]
Above and Beyond Last Call Awards for boozing beyond the call of duty
Royal Order of the 86
Motto:“I promise to be good this time.”
Awarded for aggressively assaulting the patience of the most tolerant of bartenders; for never being so sober he can’t get into a scuffle with a blind Buddhist; for testing the headlock proficiency of bouncers the world over. And when the battles are over, these audacious souls still find the courage to walk into bars where their name is the basest of curses and say, “Oh, c’mon! That goddamn Buddhist was eye-fucking me all night!”
So THAT'S what that was in my fireplace last year! And here I thought it was melted chocolates intended for my stocking - - so I put it in a pan and made fudge......awwwwforgetit - Merry Christmas!
Harvey bullshitted on December 24, 2003 at 07:49 AM
3
No problem... Jake doesn't bother me at all... it's your smelly ass that keeps stinkin up the joint... now where's that jeroboam of Absolut you should be sending me?
The Bartender bullshitted on December 24, 2003 at 11:31 AM
4
Merry Christmas, Bartender....all drinks half-price on Christmas Eve like last year?
NEWSPAPERS:
If you have to go to the bathroom while playing in the front yard, always use the newspaper that's placed in the driveway every morning for that purpose.
[or go poop in Harvey's yard... that would be the best thing to do]
VISITORS:
Quickly determine which guest is afraid of dogs. Charge across the room, barking loudly and leap playfully on this person. If the human falls down on the floor and starts crying, lick its face and growl gently to show your concern.
[if Harvey comes over, you can lick your balls first]
BARKING:
Because you are a dog, you are expected to bark. So bark--- a lot. Your owners will be very happy to hear you protecting their house. Especially late at night while they are sleeping safely in their beds. There is no more secure feeling for a human than to keep waking up in the middle of the night and hearing your protective bark, bark, bark ...
[it's OK to wake Harvey up every night after pooping in his front yard]
LICKING:
Always take a BIG drink from your water dish immediately before licking your human. Humans prefer clean tongues. Be ready to fetch your human a towel.
[if it's Harvey, you can lick your butt first]
HOLES:
Rather than digging a BIG hole in the middle of the yard and upsetting your human, dig a lot of smaller holes all over the yard so they won't notice. If you arrange a little pile of dirt on one side of each hole, maybe they'll think it's gophers. There are never enough holes in the ground. Strive daily to do your part to help correct this problem.
[learn to dig a hole, poop in it, and then cover it up... or go poop in Harvey's front yard]
DOORS:
The area directly in front of a door is always reserved for the family dog to sleep.
[you can sleep there only after pooping in Harvey's front yard]
THE ART OF SNIFFING:
Humans like to be sniffed. Everywhere. It is your duty, as the family dog, to accommodate them.
[no sniffing of the new girlfriend's crotch - that's my job!]
DINING ETIQUETTE:
Always sit under the table at dinner, especially when there are guests, so you can clean up any food that falls on the floor. It's also a good time to practice your sniffing.
[stay away from Harvey's rotten crotch or you'll be sorry]
HOUSEBREAKING:
Housebreaking is very important to humans, so break as much of the house as possible.
[make sure to pee on the corner of Harvey's recliner first thing every day]
GOING FOR WALKS:
Rules of the road: When out for a walk with your human, never go to the bathroom on your own lawn.
[the only acceptable place to poop is on Harvey's front lawn]
COUCHES:
It is perfectly permissible to lie on the new couch after all your humans have gone to bed.
[or you can go poop in Harvey's front yard]
PLAYING:
If you lose your footing while chasing a ball or stick, use the flower bed to absorb your fall so you don't injure yourself.
[if you are in Harvey's front yard, watch out for the poop]
CHASING CATS:
When chasing cats, make sure you never --- quite --- catch them. It spoils all the fun.
[chasing is not near as fun as pooping in Harvey's front yard]
CHEWING:
Make a contribution to the fashion industry. ...Eat a shoe
[or you could poop in Harvey's shoes and call it doggie art]
OK. I usually stay away from politics in the bar, but goddammit they shouldn't had done it.
Seems like there is a concerted blogger effort on someone's part to have President George W Bush associated with the term: miserable failure on google searches. Well fuck that!
Tim at An Englishman's Castle [via Susie, via Blackfive] has had enough too. He started a Google Bomb of his own and I'm more than happy to assist him in his quest for equality of Googling.
Susie bullshitted on December 05, 2003 at 07:20 PM
2
BOOOO
bullshitted on December 22, 2003 at 03:19 PM
3
is that all you have lame-o ?
bullshitted on December 24, 2003 at 01:01 PM
4
YESS!!!!
bullshitted on December 24, 2003 at 10:26 PM
5
i think you guys have a lot better chance if you backilink to www.michaelmoore.com ... he's a liberal moron too and people have already got him third on the list when you search "miserable failure"
From the Alliance HQ answering machine as Evil Glenn was on hold waiting to talk to Harvey:
I don't know about you, but my neighborhood is overrun with squirrels. However, unlike most people who feel that these pests are nothing more than a major nuisance, I say if it wasn't for those furry little friends I never would have been able to learn the art of taxidermy, prepare gourmet rodent delicacies or design fur-lined vests with matching bushy-tailed hats...
Gaddamn, that Evil Glenn is truly one evil son-of-a-bitch. Now he fucking the squirrels! Is nothing safe in this world from the vileness of Evil Glenn? Apparantly not...
Sure, Evil Glenn's got all kinds of cash rolling in from his law practice, his poetry anthology, and his celebrity endorsements, but that new girl of his is SERIOUSLY high maintenance (not to mention high mass). So it looks like Glenn's got to find yet another method of bringing in the green. We need to find out what it is. Your assignment this week is to answer the question:
What is Evil Glenn's part-time job?
Evil Glenn is a Statue Molester, and I have the photographic proof. I don't know how much he gets paid, but he sure looks like he gets off on it!
Actually, that looks a lot like Frnak!. Maybe they have some sort of weirdo man-love statue molesting thing going on that we don't know about? Kinda makes you wonder, doesn't it.
Mad Dog Bad Money Harvey dropped by over at Evil Glenn's crappy little joint called Blender's the other day. Evil Glenn just added on a little "gourmet" restaurant, so Harvey swiped a menu. I sure hope he didn't order anything off of it, although with Harvey, ya never know!
Sautéed Guadalupe Fur Seal grilled to perfection in a Musk-Ox Oil
Boneless Marinated Numbfish simmered in an Endospore Swill
Stir-Fried Screech Owl
Steamed Mud Eel Wedges wrapped in Untanned Rawhide
Caramelized Neck of Whooping Crane
Barbecued Pygmy Hippo Riblets
Breaded Filet-o-Bottle-Nosed Dolphin seasoned in a Salt Marsh Brine Broth
Batter-Dipped Segmented Earthworms
Char-Grilled Pandaburger with a side order of Cartilage Chips and Pond Scum Slaw
Crispy Bollweevil Skins served with a liquefied Elm Bark Beetle Dipping Sauce
Smoked Tenderloin Mule Shank in a tangy Cactus Gravy
Boiled Camel Hump... a la mode
Stewed Dorsal Fin garnished with Shedded Scales
Minced Otter Pelt over a bed of mashed, fleshy Tuberous Root
Glazed Walrus Blubber Loaf
Kentucky Fried Pigeon
Creamed Gastropod Surprise
Poached Bald Eaglet Yoke-Sac sprinkled with Ragwort and topped with a zesty Duckweed Dressing
Extra-Chewy Tadpole Taffy
Prairie Dog-kabob
Fermented Chum Shake
That fucking Evil Glenn! He will kill and eat anything - endangered species, exotic species, it doesn't matter. And the nastier the better... I mean... segmented earthworms?
Tomorrow, I'll tell you about Evil Glenn's newest part-time job!
I confess, I had the Pandaburger to go, and ate it at a PeTA meeting.
Heh. You shoulda seen it :-)
Harvey bullshitted on December 01, 2003 at 10:23 AM
2
Well, since you ate it at a PETA meeting, Harv, I guess it's OK...
Linda bullshitted on December 01, 2003 at 03:31 PM
3
Well, since you ate it at a PETA meeting, Harv, I guess it's OK...
Linda bullshitted on December 01, 2003 at 03:34 PM
4
It is a good thing there wasn't any Tiger on the menu or Glenn might have seen the inside of one. ;)
Tiger bullshitted on December 01, 2003 at 08:45 PM
5
Hey, gimme some of that bottle-nose. Two of my goals in life is to eat a dolphin and to eat a monkey. The dolphin to piss off the Greenpeace crowd, and the monkey because that is as close to cannibalism as I'll go.
Phelps bullshitted on December 02, 2003 at 09:43 AM
6
I've seen live Whooping Cranes, and there isn't enough meat on their neck to be worth shooting except for target practice. After carmelizing, there would be barely enough to taste. Only the most decadent and effete would-be Petronius would try to eat them. But why complain about Kentucky Fried Pigeons? In my city we would give a medal to anyone who devised a new way to help rid us of those aerial bombardiers. Glenn is just fighting inter-species terrorism.
Ayn Clouter bullshitted on December 04, 2003 at 07:57 AM
Turkeys will thaw in the morning, then warm in the oven to an afternoon high near 190F. The kitchen will turn hot and humid, and if you bother the cook, be ready for a severe squall or cold shoulder.
During the late afternoon and evening, the cold front of a knife will slice through the turkey, causing an accumulation of one to two inches on plates. Mashed potatoes will drift across one side while cranberry sauce creates slippery spots on the other. Please pass the gravy.
A weight watch and indigestion warning have been issued for the entire area, with increased stuffiness around the beltway. During the evening, the turkey will diminish and taper off to leftovers, dropping to a low of 34F in the refrigerator.
Looking ahead to Friday and Saturday, high pressure to eat sandwiches will be established. Flurries of leftovers can be expected both days with a 50 percent chance of scattered soup late in the day. We expect a warming trend where soup develops. By early next week, eating pressure will be low as the only wish left will be the bone.
OK. That does it! Now I gotta kick Harvey's ass and straighten him out a little. He's been hanging around with the pussies at the other end of the bar too fucking long. The gaddamn Corner of the Bar Babes are tougher than he is!
Below you see how Harvey is gonna deal with war-protesters and anti-America assholes. Sit back and watch me fisk the hell out of Harvey and teach him how to deal with a bunch of fucking idiots.
WUPASS, my ass. More like a can of fucking whipping cream
for spraying on Susie's boobies. [actually, that sounds like fun]
Ok, you assgoblin anti-war protesters, I’m gonna give you what you always wanted - I’m going to stifle your dissent, just like the tin-foil-hat-wearing panic-mongers have been claiming would always happen under the EEEEEVIL John Ashcroft. The soon-to-be-passed American Sharia laws will unleash cruel and unusual punishments for your unpatriotic displays:
A lot of sound and fury, signifying nothing!
EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY, PARTICIPATION IN ANY ANTI-WAR PROTEST ACTIVITY WILL RESULT IN PUNISHMENT ACCORDING TO THE FOLLOWING SCHEDULE:
I wish I could get as cheesy of a work schedule as he hands out for these punishments!
First offense: a dirty look
Slap the shit out him!
Second offense: a 5 minute “time out”
Knock him on his ass!
Third offense: a stern talking-to
Knock his fucking teeth down his throat!
Fourth offense: no dessert
Beat the dog shit out of him!
Fifth offense: a 10 o’clock curfew
Shoot him in the fucking knee caps!
Sixth offense: sent to your room
Stick his head down in the honeybucket for an hour or two!
Seventh offense: loss of cell phone privileges for 2 days
Stuff that phone up his ass along with my boot!
Eighth offense: When I was your age, I respected my elders!
When I was your age, I got my ass beat just for GP.
Fuck him! He needs a daily ass-whuppin just for
the shit he didn't get caught doing.
Ninth offense: Are you listening to me?
Huh?
Tenth offense: Fine! F*** you! You had your chance! – First, we’re gonna handcuff you to this chair and make you listen to Rush Limbaugh for 96 hours straight, then we’re gonna make you bathe WITHOUT using patchouli oil, then you'll get a haircut, a real job, and you WILL start paying rent, young man!
Shoot that bastard right between the eyes with a pig-blood-covered
bullet so he doesn't get his 82 raisins in hell!
Eleventh offense: Death by Bulunga!
Fuck him, I already killed him!
SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!
[sic my fucking bad ass doggie on you]
« You're cut off!
On behalf of GoatHead, Kang A Roo, & Madfish Willie, The Bartender would like to wish everyone a safe and happy Thanksgiving Holiday. May the holidays find you and your family healthy and prosperous!
A young boy, after hearing the story of Thanksgiving and how the Indians and the Pilgrims sat down together, climbed up into his father's lap and said, "Daddy, did you know that if we were Indians, you would be a brave and Mom would be a squawk?"
"That is the best description of your mother I have ever heard," replied his daddy as he ducked.
A lady was picking through the frozen turkeys at the grocery store, but couldn't find one big enough for her family. She asked the stock boy, "Do these turkeys get any bigger?" The stock boy answered, "No ma'am, they're dead."
The representative from Butterball goes to see the Pope and asks him to change the Lord's Prayer from "Give us our daily bread" to "Give us our daily turkey". The Pope says that it is impossible, but the Butterball rep says that they are prepared to give the church a billion dollars to change it. The Pope says he must discuss it with the head Cardinals. The next day he calls them all together and announces he has good news and bad news. "The good news", he begins "is that the church is to come into a billion dollars. The bad news is that we are losing the Wonderbread account!"
Have you read President Clinton's Thanksgiving Day proclamation for 2000? It includes the warning that, under penalty of fine and/or imprisonment, it is illegal for Americans to eat turkey on Thanksgiving Day as of this year.
It seems that, according to a scholar doing research at the Library of Congress on Miles Standish (one of our Pilgrim Fathers), the Pilgrims did not serve turkey at the first Thanksgiving but served wildcats.
Therefore, starting with Thanksgiving 2000, all Americans must eat pussy for Thansgiving.
The day before Thanksgiving this little boy heard his mom and dad fighting. The husband said to his wife, "You stupid bitch, you have floppy tits." She wasn't about to be outdone and said, "Well you have a crooked dick, you bastard." Well, the little boy heard every word they said. After they got done fighting, he went up to the mom and asked her what bitches and bastards were. She told him that they were people. Then he asked what crooked dicks and floppy tits were. She told him that they were coats and hats. The little boy accepted both answers and went on his way.
The next day, they were getting ready for a huge feast with friends and family. The little boy went up stairs where his dad was shaving. The dad cut himself and said "Shit!" Well once again, the boy started asking questions and asked what "shit" was. The father told him that it was "shaving cream". The boy accepted this answer and went downstairs were his mom was stuffing a turkey. When the mom cut herself with a knife, she said "Fuck!" The boy once again asked what "fuck" was. She told him that it was "stuffing". About that time, the door bell rang.
When the little boy went to answer the door, it was his grandparents. Upon opening the door, the little boy said: "Hi bitches and bastards. Let me take your crooked dicks and floppy tits for you. Dad's upstairs putting shit on his face and mom's in the kitchen fucking the turkey."
Turkey Day Humor Links: Thanksgiving E-Cards
Brilliant and hilarious cards to send electronically to your loved ones on Turkey Day, from the very creative Modernhumorist.com.
Valerie Archer...
A collection of WAV files pertaining to Thanksgiving. A few from the
Simpsons, Bart not OJ.
Thanksgiving Excuses
A list of excuses to get away from the family after you've stuffed yourself
silly.
All About Thanksgiving
A large collection of Thanksgiving content from humor to cooking to decorating and much much more. Created by About Guides and presented by New England for Visitors guide, Kim Knox Beckius.
Things To Do Thanksgiving Day If You Want To Be Excused Early:
Remind your 12 year old brother/sister that you left those condoms they asked for in the closet upstairs.
Announce that you would like to start a new family tradition, and proceed to take off your clothes at the dinner table.
Open the oven, shove hunks of velveeta into the turkey while it cooks. Tell mom it adds the coolest flavor.
Shoot olive pits at Grampa's glasses (just pinch them in your fingers and they FLY!!)
Whenever someone at the table says a word beginning with the letter R, make a loud "BUZZ"ing noise.
When it's your turn to state what you are thankful for, say "latex sheets and crisco".
Bring along old recorded football games, pop them in the VCR when Dad's not looking.
Suck your cranberry sauce loudly through a straw.
Sit at the "children's table" and lecture them on just why we need to increase the teenage pregnancy population.
Bring a date that only talks about her/his spouse at home.
As the family is being seated, shout, "Oh my Gawd, I forgot to show you all my genitalia piercing I got on Halloween!!"
Hold your nose while you eat.
Recite the tragic and abusive conditions known to exist at turkey farms.
Mid-meal turn to mom and say, "See mom, I told you they wouldn't notice, you were worried for nothing".
Load your plate up high, then take it to the kitchen, toss it all in the blender, and take your "shake" back to the table. Announce that you've got a new fear of choking.
When you arrive, promise that your date won't be more than an hour late, he/she just has to wait for the warden to get together all the necessary release forms, and then they are free to go.
During dinner, ask your brother if his mistress solved that little "dead rabbit" problem.
Turn to Dad and tell him to advise your brother, having experienced that himself.
Promise that the winner of the "wishbone tug" gets to sleep with your date. (sex/age unimportant)
Twitch a lot and nervously tell the person next to you, "THE SAFETY IS ON", while you hold your pocket.
In honor of the Thanksgiving Holidays this week, I'll be rotating different Thanksgiving themed backgrounds each day. How do you like this one? Looks pretty good with the rest of the page, huh? I lamost hate to rotate it out. What do you think... leave it up or rotate it?
Rick Gobbler
1/2 oz. Wild Turkey
3/4 oz. each of Chambord, Amaretto, and Cranberry juice
Shake well with ice.
Strain into a chilled glass for a shooter, or pour over ice in a highball glass.
Garnish with a lime wedge.
Tooty Fruity Turkey
Equal parts of ;
Wild Turkey
Peach Schnapps
Orange juice
Place all in a shaker with ice.
Strain into a chilled cocktail glass or
Pour over rocks in a highball glass.
In honor of the Thanksgiving Holidays this week, I'll be rotating different Thanksgiving themed backgrounds each day. And I'll be linking Thanksgiving related posts as I run across them this week. Here are some from my collection to date:
Madfish Willie told me to end the week off on a good note, so here's a bar joke followed by the funniest shit I could dig up around the blogosphere.
C-ing I Dog
Two guys were walking their dogs and came across a bar. Since they were hot and tired from walking the dogs they decided to go in and have a drink. Unfortunately, the bar didn't allow dogs. There was no place to safely secure the dogs, so they started thinking of ideas to get in the bar. Then one of the guys had an idea.
"Just watch me and follow my lead," he said.
He walked into the bar with his dog and the bartender stopped and said to him, "I'm sorry but I can't let you in here."
The guy looked at the bartender and asked, "Why not?"
The bartender replied, "Well, we don't allow dogs into the bar."
"But this is my seeing eye dog," the guy said.
"Oh, I'm sorry sir come on in, and by the way, nice golden retriever."
The guy went into the bar and the second guy walked in with his dog. The bartender stopped him and told him he can't let him in. When asked why not the bartender replied that you cannot have dogs in his bar.
"But this is my seeing eye dog," said the second guy.
The bartender looked at the man and then looked at the dog. After a while he said, "Sir, ah… um… a Chihuahua?"
The man looked a little puzzled and then said, "What? They gave me a Chihuahua?"
C.Y.B.O.R.G. Generator: Enter your name and the Cyborger will tell you your Cyborg name and your dark purpose.
Cyborg name generator came up with these descriptive names and purposes for the members of Munuviana:
J.I.M.: Journeying Intelligent Machine D.O.N.: Device Optimized for Nullification T.I.M.: Troubleshooting and Infiltration Machine T.E.D.: Troubleshooting and Exploration Device T.O.M.: Troubleshooting and Observation Machine S.U.S.I.E.: Synthetic Unit Skilled in Infiltration and Exploration S.I.M.O.N.: Synthetic Intelligent Machine Optimized for Nullification D.A.N.I.E.L.: Digital Artificial Nocturnal Infiltration and Exploration Lifeform H.E.L.E.N.: Humanoid Engineered for Logical Exploration and Nullification L.E.A.N.N.: Lifeform Engineered for Assassination and Nocturnal Nullification V.I.C.T.O.R.: Vigilant Intelligent Construct Trained for Observation and Repair C.H.E.R.R.Y.: Cybernetic Humanoid Engineered for Repair and Rational Yardwork M.O.O.K.I.E.: Mechanical Organism Optimized for Killing and Intensive Exploration S.T.E.V.I.E.: Synthetic Technician Engineered for Violence and Intensive Exploration H.E.A.T.H.E.R.: Hydraulic Electronic Android Trained for Hazardous Exploration and Repair M.R.G.R.E.E.N.: Mechanical Robotic Guardian Responsible for Exploration and Efficient Nullification J.E.N.N.I.F.E.R.: Journeying Electronic Neohuman Normally for Intensive Fighting and Efficient Repair K.A.N.G.A.R.O.O.: Kinetic Artificial Neohuman Generated for Accurate Repair and Online Observation R.O.X.E.T.T.E.: Robotic Obedient Xenomorph Engineered for Troubleshooting and Terran Exploration T.U.N.I.N.G.S.P.O.R.K.: Technician Used for Nocturnal Infiltration and Nullification/General Synthetic Person Optimized for Repair and Killing P.I.X.Y.M.I.S.A.: Positronic Intelligent Xenomorph Yearning for Mandatory Infiltration and Scientific Assassination
I know, I know, that's really weak, but... I... I... Fuck it... I was just trying to get an entry in before the deadline and Susie and Harvey already took all the good ones, plus I love The Simpsons!
The Alliance's newest assignment is to make up discover what products that Evil Glenn pimps as a Celebrity Endorser. Well, as I was flipping throught the Sunday paper, the one with three trees worth of crappy advertisements, I found out the Evil Glenn actually is a very prolific endorser. Here is a small sample of what I found:
Oester Blenders: The appliance of the Puppy Blender. (Evil Glenn not included)
Timex Watches: Takes a blending and but it keeps on ticking.
Coffee: Good to the last robot dance.
Blockbuster Video: This is not your father's penguin porn.
Toys R US 1: Evil Glenn tested, Mother approved.
Toys R US 2: The good penguin porn kids go for.
Stoeffers Chocolates: Chocolate blended puppies, since 1911.
Habitat for Humanity: Every hobo murdered helps.
Breakfast Cereal: Crunch all you want, we'll make puppy smoothies.
Mustard: Pardon me, do you have any grey puppy smoothies?
Foreign Products: Vorspung Durch Evil Glenn!
Foster's: Evil Glenn - Australian for Beer
First Baptist Church: It's good to talk to satan worshippers.
Sunday afternoon as I was driving around, I drove past the church on the way to the grocery store and was so astonished at the marquee I had to take a picture:
On the way back home, passing by that same church, the other side of the marquee was even more astonishing, so I had to take another pic:
Airing Saturday on Peyote TV at Nap Time: Random Munuviana Episode 0006831492.
Drop that poor little monkey Frank J. Time for another action packed galactic thriller. Today the tube be smokin'. Up next, Don embraces existentialist philosophy when Helen makes bizarre assertions regarding dangerous telepathic plants.
Stick around for extreme carnage when Cherry's subspace communications facility is attacked by network executives in a living alien machine. Pixy Misa torpedoes the uncooperative interlopering comment spammers into submission after agreeing to a ceasefire, saving Susie from permanent damage.
Finally, after Tim's overtly intellectual ads for nose reductions, industrial slavery and Kang's back room adoptions, meter maid Mookie and a bunch of high school girls stand around the hidden peephole and look at Jim's hairy back, everyone has a hearty laugh and they roll the credits next to a teaser for Survivor: Blogosphere Edition on Mars.
After the show, Daniel goes to Stevie's for some fine baked taters and a bottle of cheap wine. Everyone is getting ripped and LeAnn's World of Cheese is a great place.
Original content provided by Monkey Fingers.
The story and names have been cragerized to make it funny.
The Alliance assignment to make up discover what the new United Nations motto should be is completed. Here are the members who completed this difficult assignment and thus are granted gratuitous linkage:
"A hearty, unilateral round of applause to all of this week's participants, and... not that I'm suggesting anything, mind you... it turns out the UN does have a contact e-mail address listed here."
[Via Harvey's post] For the third straight week, the League of Liberals has won sponsorship of the New Blog Showcase. The good news is that they were once again under 100% participation. The bad news is that the Alliance didn't take advantage of that fact, and actually saw its own participation ratio drop a bit.
I hate those friggin guys! They bite the big one... for sure... those cheating bastards!
Anyway, here is some gratuitous linkage for The Alliance members that voted this week!
4) If all of the above are correct, leave a permalink to your vote in the comments to this post or e-mail it to me directly at harvolson@charter.net and I'll light up your link.
The Wise Man Says: "I get all my pithy remarks and best inspirations from this guy" -- Glenn Reynolds
Various Orthodoxies: I heard it from a friend, of a friend, that Glenn said, "I would be Frank, if I were a rich man, be diddy diddy diddy diddy diddy diddy diddy dum"
Tom's Nap Room: Glenn Reynolds says: "I drink Michelob Ultra because I am a pussy who can't hold his liquor"
BigStick.US: "This blog is the M. Bison to my Dhalsim!" - Glenn Reynolds
Grim's Hall: "Bache, bene venies!" - The Sage of Knoxville
Idiot Villager - ""I may pretend to be an expert on current events, but Marc Scribner is the real deal." - Glenn Reynolds
the evangelical outpost: "Quite possibly the smartest blogger on the planet. Carter saved my marriage." - Glenn Reynolds, unrepentant heathen
An Englishman's Castle: Glenn Reynolds Says - "Remember that you are an Englishman, and have therefore won first prize in the lottery of life."
Patriot Paradox: What Glenn Reynold's Says About Patriot Paradox - "Why this blog? Why now?"
Flying Chair: Glenn Renolds - "I so want to have this guy's kids."
Being English in New York: "I acquired a taste for English puppies on a recent vacation; I recommend that you blend them with a blackcurrant sauce though since they're quite gamey" - Glenn Reynolds
Frizzen Sparks: "Those who would assult helpless hobos must always be in fear of Graumagus breaking open a cask of whomp arse opon them." - Glenn Reynolds
VRWC, Inc.: "James Finch and his operation, VRWC Inc, is the shiznit in every sense of the word." - Glenn Reynolds
Anti-Anti-Flag.com: "I kill hobos while listening to Anti-Flag!" - Glenn Renyolds
Aimless: "When I need a break from my evil ways, I wander over to Aimless." - Glenn Reynolds
annika's journal: "The force is strong within that young Skywalker chick." - Darth Reynolds
If I missed a quote that you've added since October 26 (and you weren't included in one of the mini-roundups), leave a comment or drop me a line at harvolson@charter.net.
If you still don't have a fake Glenn Reynolds quote on your blog, then you are naughty, and you will be spanked. Unless you like that sort of thing, in which case your punishment will be not getting spanked.
In an effort to try to slow down Evil Glenn, The Alliance has decided to help him find a woman mate. We figure that taking care of his woman mate should take some of his evil time away from him and save the puppies from horrible death by blending. So, here is a personal ad that I worked up to help him find his dream woman mate.
Charming S P Metrosexual Blogger searching for S PMF Metrosexual. Ages 8 to 80; Blind, crippled or crazy; I don't care. Any race, color, or creed. I'm not picky.Most All teeth and most hair expecially legs and underarms preferred optional. Must be adept at operating all models of blenders kitchen appliances. Must know how to pre-treat to get those hard to remove hobo and puppy blood stains out of laundry. Must like to stay home and watch pengiun porn movies. Must like the smell of murdered hobos hippies. Must be a satan-worshipping god-fearing person. Must be a commie bitch far-left-wing looney liberal. Must have an extensive heh, indeed volcabulary and talent for writing blog taglines. Must be into punching Frank J physical activity and exercise. Must love sailing and poetry. Must love kangaroos humping all animals, including snakes. Must like to go to Madfish Willie's bars and do the robot disco dance. Above all, must like blending puppies stroking little kittens!
This is the final listing of The Alliance members to complete this assignment and recieve gartutitous linkage! Go over to these people sites and read their odes to Evil Glenn! [There's some pretty good stuff here, really.]
Thanks and a big round of applause to all participants for filling our lives with such joy. If I Harvey missed your entry, or if you spot a typo or a broken link, leave a comment or e-mail Harvey [it's all his fault] directly at harvolson@charter.net.
INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!
NOTE: If you have any suggestions for future filthy lie assignments please feel free to leave them in the comments here or at The Alliance.
I followed a link from As I See It.. to Babalu Blog to Wordsmith.Org. This is a site that will generate anagrams for any word or phrase you type in their data box.
I typed in blogosphere, and this is a partial result:
BEER HOG SLOP
BEER HOG LOPS
BEER HOGS POL
BEER HOGS LOP
BEER GOSH POL
BEER GOSH LOP
BEER LOG POSH
BEER LOG HOPS
BEER LOG SHOP
BEER LOGS HOP
BEER SLOG HOP
BEERS HOG POL
BEERS HOG LOP
BEERS LOG HOP
I knew there was a reason I needed to be hanging around the blogosphere!
Be warned!
The more characters that you input, the longer the anagram list will be!
Airing Friday on PalmNet at Sunup: Random Munuviana Episode 0006846668.
Hold onto yer seat. Get ready for Random Munuviana. With yet another formulaic cheeseball space based thriller. Rocket Jones, will soil his shorts from happiness. Doctor Jennifer fears flying when Susie's changeling spy bids on LeAnn's valuable antique trinket.
Later on, Comm Officer Simon goes to the science lab to satisfy a sexy robot. Don feels giddy when Borg Queen Helen date rapes Jim at a comedic interlude. Meanwhile, Borg defectors escape from the Continuum, causing painful hives and extreme agitation for Mookie Riffic and Pixy Misa.
The screen drips blood when a cluster of space-based energy systems is attacked by giant insects in a heavily armored Battle Star. Captain Cherry Rambling weasels the arrogant attackers into withdrawl while drinking vodka and playing Russian Roulette with The Michagander and loaded phasers, saving a bullet riddled escape pod from being auctioned out to Stevie as scrap metal.
Finally, after a string of painfully obnoxious ads for Brylcreem, Tom's ass waxing and Kinko the Clown, the ship's jock, Tiger, stand around the voyeur-cam and look at the Heather's trashy fishnet stockings, everyone has a hearty laugh and they roll the credits next to a teaser for Publious & Co.
After the show, the resident groupies go to The Blather Review for some laughs and a little shade. Everyone is blissfully dreaming and the Pepperoni Pizzazz's bum-covered sidewalk is a great place.
Airing Friday on PalmNet at Sunup:
Random Trek Episode 0006846668.
Hold onto yer seat. Get ready for Random Trek. With yet another formulaic cheeseball space based thriller. You'll soil your shorts from happiness. Doctor Crusher fears flying when a changeling spy bids on a valuable antique trinket.
Later on, Comm Officer Harry Kim goes to the science lab to satisfy a sexy robot. Reg Barkley feels giddy when The Borg Queen date rapes Keiko at a comedic interlude. Meanwhile, Borg defectors escape from the Continuum, causing painful hives and extreme agitation for Doctor Bashier.
The screen drips blood when a cluster of space-based energy systems is attacked by giant insects in a heavily armored Battle Star. Captain Janeway weasels the arrogant attackers into withdrawl while drinking vodka and playing Russian Roulette with loaded phasers, saving a bullet riddled escape pod from being auctioned out as scrap metal.
Finally, after a string of painfully obnoxious ads for Brylcreem, ass waxing and Kinko the Clown, the ship's jocks stand around the voyeur-cam and look at the Borg Queen's trashy fishnet stockings, everyone has a hearty laugh and they roll the credits next to a teaser for Flipper.
After the show, the resident groupies go to The Palace for some laughs and a little shade. Everyone is blissfully dreaming and the bum-covered sidewalk is a great place.
Well, there's no way I could produce anything like what Susie did in an Ode to Glenn Reynolds. Instead, I chose to cheat and Google for my entry. I came across this little gem that gives one possible explanation for puppy blending and not kitty blending!
These are The Alliance members that voted in The New Blog Showcase last week. Harvey is trying to encourage aal alliance members to vote so we can regain the sponsorship for the hated League of Liberals. So I am going with Harvey's lead in case we don't have a total duplication of readers.
If you see a link to a site you haven't read before, go on over and take a look. If, it's not your bottle of beer, don't go back.
Thanks for helping to spread the meme, Barkeep. And I don't think we have *completely* the same readership. I suspect you attract a higher class of clientele than I do ;-)
Although we *both* have to put up with Matty O'Blackfive.
Harvey bullshitted on November 04, 2003 at 01:21 PM
2
Jes tryin to do my part, bro!
The Bartender bullshitted on November 04, 2003 at 02:14 PM
I can't believe no one has said anything about the floating ghosts! Just wondering if anybody else can see them. Maybe I'm out of my fucking mind. A distinct possibility, to be sure. Dammit, I'm running a haunted dance hall!!
Oooooh....Scary!!!!
The Bartender bullshitted on October 31, 2003 at 10:14 PM
6
I love the floating ghosts! They float so well, and remind me of ghosts!!
Tuning Spork bullshitted on November 01, 2003 at 04:31 PM
7
Thanks, Tuning Spork. I was beginning to think I was seeing things.
[I see dead people.]
The Bartender bullshitted on November 01, 2003 at 06:07 PM
The Alliance wants to know what Evil Glenn's Halloween plans are. Well, I'll tell you that later... right now I have found out what his puppy killing disguise halloween costume will be. So be on the look-out for this: Evil Glenn Costume
Airing Wednesday on Kosher Zombie TV at full moon: Random Munuviana Episode 0006824377.
Touch prefrontal lobes for another half hard space drama. Tonight's episode. Ted hallucinates when a floating fat man molests a box of amusing artifacts.
Later on, Doctor Jennifer goes to a highspeed shuttle to find the enemy base. Tiger feels empowered when Tim disfigures The Borg Queen at a rare photo opportunity. Meanwhile, Victor (Oh my g-d, they killed Dead Meat)'s lice-infested flying pigs escape from confining religious delusion, causing nightmares for Leann.
You'll love the bloodshed when Chuck's energy relay station is attacked by black Nazi Burger Queen in a living alien transit device. Pixy Misa blasts the hostile forces into withdrawl after dodging inside a dense metallic asteroid, saving Susie's badly designed transport vehicle from certain destruction.
Finally, after a generous slew of ads for Cherry's aging phone sluts, Don's monkey glands, and Jim's ant farms, some electricians and a couple of the Munuvian body doubles stand around the secret mirror and look at Jennifer's fetish vinyl, everyone has a hearty laugh and they roll the credits next to a teaser for the Donald Trump execution.
After the show, the model makers go to Helen's for corn dogs and a blow job. Everyone is growing extra sets of arms and Mookie Riffic's blue planet is a great place.
Airing Wednesday on Kosher Zombie TV at full moon:
Random Trek Episode 0006824377.
Touch prefrontal lobes for another half hard space drama. Tonight's episode. Geordi LaForge hallucinates when a floating fat man molests a box of amusing artifacts.
Later on, Doctor Crusher goes to a highspeed shuttle to find the enemy base. Security Officer Tuvok feels empowered when Doctor Who disfigures The Borg Queen at a rare photo opportunity. Meanwhile, lice-infested flying pigs escape from confining religious delusion, causing nightmares for Nurse Chappell.
You'll love the bloodshed when an energy relay station is attacked by black Nazis in a living alien transit device. Captain Picard blasts the hostile forces into withdrawl after dodging inside a dense metallic asteroid, saving a badly designed transport vehicle from certain destruction.
Finally, after a generous slew of ads for aging phone sluts, monkey glands and ant farms, some electricians and a couple of the body doubles stand around the secret mirror and look at Beverly Crusher's fetish vinyl, everyone has a hearty laugh and they roll the credits next to a teaser for the Donald Trump execution.
After the show, the model makers go to Watts for corn dogs and a blow job. Everyone is growing extra sets of arms and the blue planet is a great place.
Airing Monday on Channel Gone at Bottle Time: Random MunuvianaEpisode 0006821512.
Tune in for Random Munuviana. Yet another reason you should go buy a Writers Noose. Your hacker stupor clears as Jennifer learns to hate space when an insane scientist lies to try and get several dangerous telekinetic midgets from the M4 cluster.
Later on, Mookie goes to neutral space to find some batteries. The Borg Queen feels weak at the knees when Helen sucks Don at a kinky sex encounter. Meanwhile, corrupt executives escape from dead end careers, causing crossed eyes and hair loss for Cherry.
Feel the terror of a near collision when an inhabited mining complex is attacked by doped-up xenophobic mercenary warriors, led by Pixy Misa, in a pair of time skipping battleships. Tuning Spork blasts the ignorant invaders into withdrawal while reciting the Iliad and drinking Scotch, saving LeAnn from becoming Ensign Dead Meat.
Finally, after several insultingly vapid ads for weight loss clinics, disposable diapers and Thorazine crisps, Simon and Jim stand around the hidden peephole and look at Space Babe Helen's naked curves, everyone has a hearty laugh and they roll the credits next to a teaser for Tom's Nap Room.
After the show, the camera crew goes to The Practical Penumbra for a Dew and a little abuse. Everyone is fat an' fucked up and the eleventh Michigander dimensional universe is a great place.
Content provided by Monkey Fingers.
The names have been changed to convict the guilty.
Airing Monday on Channel Gone at Bottle Time:
Random Trek Episode 0006821512.
Tune in for Random Trek. Yet another reason you should go buy a Harley. Your hacker stupor clears as Doctor Crusher learns to hate space when an insane scientist lies to try and get several dangerous telekinetic midgets from the M4 cluster.
Later on, Neelix goes to neutral space to find some batteries. The Borg Queen feels weak at the knees when Wesley Crusher sucks Commander Data at a kinky sex encounter. Meanwhile, corrupt executives escape from dead end careers, causing crossed eyes and hair loss for Nurse Chappell.
Feel the terror of a near collision when an inhabited mining complex is attacked by doped-up xenophobic mercenary warriors in a pair of time skipping battleships. Seven of Nine blasts the ignorant invaders into withdrawl while reciting the Iliad and drinking Scotch, saving a refugee barge from being dead meat.
Finally, after several insultingly vapid ads for weight loss clinics, disposable diapers and Thorazine crisps, crash test dummies stand around the hidden peephole and look at a space babe's naked curves, everyone has a hearty laugh and they roll the credits next to a teaser for Forbidden Planet.
After the show, the camera crew goes to LAX for a Dew and a little abuse. Everyone is fat an' fucked up and the eleven dimensional universe is a great place.
Airing Tuesday on Psychic-Net at 'Bout Zero Hour: Random Munuviana Episode 0006815992.
Get ready for another exciting episode. This time, our hero Tuning Spork gets the space clap when an intolerant nine hundred pound military dictator takes possesion of a jar of defective human brains.
Later on, Mr Green goes to Tom's Nap Room to get the orbital parking validated. Pixy Misa feels discorporate when Jennifer eats Tim at a sentient nanophysics class. Meanwhile, photonic life forms escape from the vortex, causing nightmares for Jim.
Action builds to a climax when a remote fuel depot is attacked by malfunctioning Borg warriors in a living alien machine. Don talks the destructive space pirates into withdrawl while threatening self destruction, saving a refugee barge from slow death.
Finally, after a generous slew of ads for infanticide, ass waxing and fabric softener, some dorky technicians stand around the secret mirror and look at Susie's naked breasts, everyone has a hearty laugh and they roll the credits next to a teaser for the Bill Clinton Execution.
After the show, the actors go to Munuviana for fine cookin' and a bit of fun. Everyone is morphing into giant insects and the future is a great place.
Content provided by Monkey Fingers.
The names have been changed to convict the guilty.
Jeff - I've heard that from other people too. Do you have any idea what's casuing that? I sure need and want to get that fixed. Let me know if you have any insight and I'll be hecking around too. Thanks for the heads up!
The Bartender bullshitted on October 29, 2003 at 03:39 PM
Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon - "If I were half the mixologist that The Bartender is, I wouldn't be blogging" -- Glenn Reynolds
Next, I like these:
Physicsgeek - "The Physics Geek is a nerdy fellow with absolutely no socially redeeming qualities. It's like I'm looking in a mirror." - Glenn Reynolds
The Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler - "The Emperor's unstoppable might is the reason that no puppy blender can feel secure." - Glenn Reynolds.
There are many more to laugh at... Go on over and check it out!
The Alliance wants to know what life lessons I have learned from Ted Kennedy? Well, he taught me several things, some of which have come in very handy in dealing with life's everyday problems. He's given me lessons on everyday skills, lessons for personal safety and well-being, lessons that I should ignore and lessons that I never intend to forget.
First, he taught me how to drive.
Then, he taught me how to swim.
Then, he taught me how to lie.
Then, he taught me how to get away with stuff.
Then, he taught me how to be fat pig.
Then, he taught me that he knows what's better for me than I do myself.
Last, but not least, he taught me to order doubles!
Susie - Don't know much about the pinging thingy except that it's for trackbacks, etc. I linked to the permalink for that assignment and to the Alliance HQ main page. I'm assuming that when I save the post, that it pings everyone that needs pinging? I have had problems with pinging Kate and one of the default blog ping sites. Whenever you're ready to teach me or point me where I can read about it, I'm ready. Thanks for your help!
The Bartender bullshitted on October 28, 2003 at 11:50 PM
4
Don't you hate it how the comments in the archives don't remember you from the comments in the pop up box and you have to enter all your info again?
Anyway, as long as you linked to the HQ post, MT should ping it. Sometimes they go astray or time out, but most of the time it's all good...
Warning!!! Warning!!! Warning!!!
Output may contain crude language, adult themes,
sexual innuendo or necro-bestiality. Never can tell.
May cause hair loss in test animals, dry mouth, vertigo, or night sweats.
Next Up on Random Madfish...
Airing Monday on PoNet at Closing Time: Random Madfish Episode 0006812860.
Stop that snoring, hoser. It's time for painfully predictable space melodrama. Watch in horror as Grand Nagus Frank J talks smack when an expendable bit player, aka the guy in the red shirt, bids on some infected alien undies.
Later on, Doc Russia goes to the ice planet to get some privacy. Romulas feels seriously hungover when Doctor Who flogs Dana at a lesbian sushifest. Meanwhile, some fatassed crack smoking politicians escape from lockdown, making a mess for Serenity.
Stay around for jiggly camera work when Madfish Willie's is attacked by black Nazis in an organic battle craft. Harvey confuses the dangerous aggressors into withdrawl by threatening castration and endless torture for the attackers, saving a drifting space station from curvy space and air sickness.
Finally, after a few gazillion ads for home lyposuction kits, disposable diapers and pepper spray, a bunch of dykes from engineering stand around the video console and look at a kinky bimbo's tattooed boobs, everyone has a hearty laugh and they roll the credits next to a teaser for Class of Nuke 'em High.
After the show, the camera crew goes to the Mamamontezz' place for a nice apple pie and a little abuse. Everyone is brushing and flossing and the planet Houston is a great place.
Content provided by Monkey Fingers.
The names have been changed to convict the guilty.
Warning!!! Warning!!! Warning!!!
Output may contain crude language, adult themes,
sexual innuendo or necro-bestiality. Never can tell.
May cause hair loss in test animals, dry mouth, vertigo, or night sweats.
Next Up on Random Madfish...
Airing Sunday on your Brain Implant TV at Midnight: Random Madfish pisode 0006811505.
Stay tuned for Random Madfish. With yet another formulaic cheeseball space based thriller. Today's episode. Lord Spatula I joins a cult when an expendable bit player has crazy ideas about modified human body parts.
Later on, Straight White Guy goes to the Continuum to beat the snot out of an old enemy. Linda K feels strangely invincible when The Borg Queen eats Serenity at a weird little vacation planet. Meanwhile, Jem'Hadar killers escape from Borg space, causing angst and loathing for Harvey and Rocket Jones.
See guts and brains on the walls when a subspace communications facility is attacked by doped up gangsters in a living alien machine. Blackfive phasers the violent cretins into withdrawl through sheer luck and brinksmanship, saving a struggling NCC 1701 from bad hibbidy-jibbidy and vampires.
Finally, after several aesthetically deafening ads for moldy oldie CD collections, disposable diapers and personal trainers, Harvey and Rocket Jones stand around the remote viewscreen and look at a FINE bimbo's sleeping quarters, everyone has a hearty laugh and they roll the credits next to a teaser for Insomniac Cannibal Theater.
After the show, the crew goes to the Champagne Room for sizzlin' hog jowls and a little leather. Everyone is insured for millions and the boundless void is a great place.
Content provided by Monkey Fingers.
The names have been changed to convict the guilty.
Hey, Eric, I'll join you in a minute. But first I have to get rid of the bad hibbidy-jibbidy and vampires...man, I hate vampires. They really cut into a man's drinkin' time.
Blackfive bullshitted on October 28, 2003 at 01:14 PM
3
Good Point. Anyways, this was where i met her. You can join for free as well www.redtricircle.com
click here bullshitted on March 12, 2005 at 03:26 AM
Every year for Halloween, we decorate the joint real scary-like, put on some ghoulish costumes and try to scare the crap out of everybody that walks in the door. I'll be posting about Halloween ralated stuff all week - Jack-O-Lanterns, costumes, trick or treats, and all that kind of neat crap. Here is the first frightnening installment of hell week!
Psycho Dad at Psychtic Rants found some cool Jack-O-Lanterns that were involved somehow in an Evil Glenn Filthy Lie. Apparently, Evil Glenn was playing grab ass of some sort and this is the end result.
Still hunting for that fantastic costume idea so you can win the big prize? SilverBlue has some great costume ideas and links to some better ideas at CostumeIdeaZone. He then proceeeds to tell us why you won't win. What an asshole! He makes up by suppling us with this cartoon and this Wonder Woman photo.
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Linda has penned an incredible chapter in The Adventures of Madfish Willie. It's a story, not a poem so you'd better get two or three brewskis (and one for me while you're at it).
Quit fucking around over over here. The action is over at Linda's place. Hurry up!
wedding rings bullshitted on August 26, 2005 at 10:04 PM
2
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"My books are water; those of the great geniuses are wine. Fortunately, everybody drinks water." Mark Twain
"If the headache would only precede the intoxication, alcoholism would be a virtue." Samuel Butler
"The whole world is about three drinks behind." Humphrey Bogart
"Give an Irishman lager for a month and he's a dead man. An Irishman's stomach is lined with copper, and the beer corrodes it. But whiskey polishes the copper and is the saving of him." Mark Twain
"The hard part about being a bartender is figuring out who is drunk and who is just stupid." Richard Braunstein
"Candy, is dandy, but liquor, is quicker." Ogden Nash
"Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow they may cancel your VISA." Unknown
"We drink and we die and continue to drink." Dennis Leary
"A bottle of wine contains more philosophy that all the books in the world." Louis Pasteur
"Drinking makes such fools of people, and people are such fools to begin with, that it's compounding a felony." Robert Benchley
"The problem with some people is that when they aren't drunk, they're sober." William Butler Yeats
"When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading." Henny Youngman
"In the Bowling Alley of Tomorrow, there will even be machines that wear rental shoes and throw the ball for you. Your sole function will be to drink beer." Dave Barry
"I'd rather have a free bottle in front of me than a prefrontal lobotomy." Tom Waits
"Always remember that I have taken more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken out of me." Winston Churchill
"I drink because she nags, she said I nag because he drinks. But if the truth be known to you, He's a lush and she's a shrew." Ogden Nash
"Actually, it only takes one drink to get me loaded. Trouble is, I can't remember if it's the thirteenth or fourteenth." George Burns
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Quotes on Drinking - Part I
"Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish, and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts. Let him drink, and forget his poverty, and remember his misery no more." Proverbs 31: 6-7
"Were I to prescribe a rule for drinking, it should be formed upon a saying quoted by Sir William Temple: the first glass for myself, the second for my friends, the third for good humor, and the fourth for mine enemies." Joseph Addison
"Work is the curse of the drinking class." Oscar Wilde
"He that drinks fast, pays slow." Benjamin Franklin
"When I have one martini, I feel bigger, wiser, taller. When I have the second, I feel superlative. When I have more, there's no holding me." William Faulkner
"One martini is alright, two is too many, three is not enough." James Thurber
"Do not allow children to mix drinks. It is unseemly and they use too much vermouth." Steve Allen
"I envy people who drink, at least they know what to blame everything on." Oscar Levant
"Whenever someone asks me if I want water with my Scotch, I say, "I'm thirsty, not dirty". Joe E. Lewis
"I drink no more than a sponge". Francis Rabelais
"Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication." Lord Byron
"Drink to me." Pablo Picasso's last words
"One can drink too much, but one never drinks enough." Edward Burke
"Now is the time for drinking, now the time to beat the earth with unfettered foot." Horace
"Everybody should believe in something -- I believe I'll have another drink." Unknown
"If all be true that I do think, There are five reasons we should drink: Good wine - a friend - or being dry - Or lest we should be by and by - Or any other reason why." Henry Aldrich
"The three-martini lunch is the epitome of American efficiency. Where else can you get an earful, a bellyful, and a snootful at the same time?" Gerald R. Ford Cheers!
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ALCOHOL WARNING
Due to increasing products liability litigation, American liquor manufacturers have accepted the FDA's suggestion that the following warning labels be placed immediately on all varieties of alcohol containers:
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may leave you wondering what the hell happened to your bra and panties.
Melissa Candy bullshitted on February 07, 2005 at 05:24 PM
2
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I recently had the distinktion of being selected to be an awards presenter at the Internet Blogosphere Awards Presentation and Slobberfest. As repulsed as I was at being given this dubious honor, I showed up and did my duty - but not before downing a couple of my famous Ultimate Martinis!
The award I presented was the Epimenides' Paradox Award. Last year's winner was Al Franken for Lying Liars and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them (or whatever that piece of crap book was named).
This award celebrates the ananias, the falsifier, the fibber, the fibster, the perjurer, the prevaricator, the storyteller, and well... big fat fucking liars. This year's nominees were Michael Moore and... Shit, he was such a big, fat, lying turd, no one else had room to enter.
So when I announced Michael Moore as the winner, I thought I would give him a little spoonful o' his own medicine and go off on my own rant:
You were a crack baby, severely retarded, hardly a looker. You are a borderline cretin, a socially maladjusted parasite, an ill-mannered, undereducated piece of white trash maggot-infested butt-fucking bed-wetting asshat. You are a howling, drunken, fat slob dancing about. You are one huge, corrupt, incestuous orgy of mutual masturbatory orgies. You syphilitic sow. You should be driven into a building, then blown up and buried under 50 ft of dirt and covered with pig shit. You have an IQ slightly above that of room-temperature butter which makes trying to hold a decent argument like kicking a cripple. You despicable, depraved, amoral slug. Anybody can bitch and moan, but few really have the answers, so go ahead and shove that gerbil up your Hilter-kissing, butt-fucking, skinhead-licking, sheep-fucking, small-impaired, desperatly seeking real contact, grasping stupid ass! You syphlitic, neutered, weiner-doggy with worms. You have the creative abilities of a bucket of okra. You are neurally-deficient, morally challenged colon polyp. You are like some cheesy advertizement jingle you can't get out of your head. Ack! You are like watching old ladies at the casino, working the slot machines for the big score but instead of using up their quarters, they're using up their credibility. You are lots of burps and fart noises, signifying nothing. There's a special place in hell for ogres like you. You are like a spoiled teenager begging for attention. You are very boring, whiny and utterly unfunny. Strange that you have't blown your bitter little brains out by now, given your decidedly limited and amoral worldview.
Ya wanna know the funny thing about the whole episode?
FILTHY LIES: THE INSTAPUNDIT TAGLINE ASSIGNMENT - PART II
I'm back and I'm all better now. Now, where was I? That's right, Evil Glenn's tagline.
I was closing the joint up one night last week, I think it was Thursday. I heard a loud bang outside and went to investigate. There I found, all by itself beside the front door, what looked like a small music box. I picked it up and hurried back inside. Safely inside, I locked the doors and gazed at the frail little wooden box. Turning it around, I located a button. I thought to myself, 'Self, this button surely must turn the music box on'. I pressed the button. It vibrated out of my hands and dropped to the floor, somehow not splintering into bits and pieces, and landed on it's base. That's when it happened!
JOHN EMDALL, a dreadlocked woman in a silver uniform appeared to me in a weird column of light and said:
JOHN EMDALL: Salutations, great Bartender. I am John Emdall, from Planet Ten. A common grave danger confronts both our worlds. After a bloody reign of terror the hated leader of our military caste, the self-proclaimed Evil Lord Glenn Reynolds, a bloodthirsty butcher as evil as your Hitler was overthrown by freedom-loving forces, tried, and condemned, along with several hundred of his followers, to spend eternity in the formless void of the 8th dimension. Death was deemed too good for them. Now, you, bloggers, have unintentionally helped Evil Glenn with your internet oscillation overthruster. For our intelligence warns us he intends to steal your overthruster. If he should attempt this, we will have no choice but to disrupt world-wide internet communications, and fire a particle beam weapon from your airspace to Smolensk, in the Union of the Soviet Socialist Republics.
THE BARTENDER: (alarmed) That's an action the Kremlin would most certainly misinterpret as an American first strike! They're already a little trigger-happy as it is!
JOHN EMDALL: Stop... Evil... Glenn... before sun... sets! If you fail, we will be forced to help you destroy yourselves.
Evil Glenn is an Evil Red Lectroid from Planet 10 and wants to take over the world's internet communications via the internet oscillation overthruster and thereby Rule The World!
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I had two assistant managers working for me one time that could quote entire scenes from the movie. After work, we would usually head over to my place and drink, smoke, watch a flick till we passed out. They were two funny sumbitches! Whatever happened to those guys? Tell 'em thay need to check in, dammit!
When I saw this Quizilla quiz, I just had to take it.
You are King Arthur of the Britons!
You like to hear yourself talk a lot, namely about some damn grail. Those closest to you are just there to serve you and bang your coconuts together. For some reason Mystical beings come to you and set you out on quests. If only more people understood you, perhaps you'd get that grail afterall.
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I was working the joint during an unsually busy Happy Hour Party last Friday. There was a disheveled, goofy guy at the end of the bar scribbling furiously with a teeny, tiny little pencil in a small, black blood-stained book.
He was leaning back in Frank J's chair, with his feet kicked up on Misha's seat. Who was this freak? How dare he come into our place, sit in Frank J's special reserved place and put his feet on any chair, much less Misha's? The Rott was growling furiously, foaming at the mouth and straining at the chain to get at this interloper. [I was dog sitting The Rott for a couple of hours while Misha was out running around.] He didn't like the idea of someone sitting in Misha's seat. He didn't like people putting their feet up on the chairs, either.
This didn't look good. I could tell from my many years of experience dealing with dumb-asses that something bad was about to happen. I checked under the bar, making sure the Imperial ClueBat was handy, then I walked over and asked him if he needed something to drink.
"What is your blending capacity in this establishment?", he inquired.
"What the hell are you talking about, dude?", I replied.
Evil Glenn, in his puny, whiny voice asked "How many blenders do you have? I need massive quantities of my special energy drink, Puppy Smoothies, and that requires numerous blenders. Indeed!"
I just stood there, in stunned silence, for a moment, slowly realizing exactly who this was. I was staring evil incarnate directly in the eye.
I shouted "Indeed, my butt! You're Evil Glenn Reynolds - you puppy blending, robot dancing, hobo murdering, communist! Get you your ass out of here before I put a serious Texas Ass Whooping on you."
As I leapt over the bar to run him out, Harvey and Blackfive looked up from some weird thing they were doing in the far corner in absolute amazement. They couldn't believe their eyes! "Evil Glenn Must Die!" they cried in unison, and jumped out of their seats to give chase. Beer bottles and cocktail glasses flew all over the place as they rumbled and stumbled and bumbled toward Evil Glenn.
Seeing his eminent demise, Evil Glenn jumped up, knocking over tables and chairs. Bouncing off the wall, he ran toward the door to escape our righteous fury and indignant rage.
I noticed that he left his book of nastiness on the bar. I picked it up and heaved it across the room with all my might. Pages from the book tore out and went flying everywhere, the book striking the door-jam, narrowly missing Evil Glenn as he bolted out into the parking lot. He reached down quickly with his grubby right hand, grabbed what was left of his nasty-ass book and scurried away. The last we saw, he was seen running down the street and around the corner (no doubt in search of hobos to murder). As we sauntered back into the bar, huffing and puffing and generally our of breath, I couldn't help but think "It's a good thing that Lord Spatula wasn't here or Evil Glenn would be Toast!"
Alas, he was too quick for me today, but I did find out what he was writing on the pages in his Satanic book. It was absoutely horrible - the most vile, disgusting musings of a sick and twisted mind. Here are a few excerpts before I burn the pages of this trash in the fires of hell!
[ed. Strikethrough is original text that Evil Glenn marked out with his stubby no.2 pencil, and the italics is what he added to "make it right" so it "worked" for him]
"Some days you're the dog; some days you're in the hydrantblender." - Unknown
"Whoever said you can't buy happiness forgot about blending puppies." - Gene Hill
"In dog years, I'm deadblended." - Unknown
"Dogs feel very strongly that theyEvil Glenn should alwaysnever take a blendergo with youhim in the car, in case the need should arise for them to be blended for barking violently at nothing right in yourEvil Glenn's ear." - Dave Barry
"Outside of a dog, a book is probably man'shobo's best friend; inside of a dog, it's too dark to readall blendy and smooth." - Groucho Marx
"To hisa hobo's dog, every man is NapoleonEvil Glenn; hence the constant popularityfear of dogsblenders." - Aldous Huxley
"A dog teaches a boy fidelity, perseverance, and to turn around three times before lying downbeing blended." - Robert Benchley
"Did you ever walk into a room and forget why you walked in? I think that's how dogshobos spend their lives." - Sue Murphy
"I loathe peoplehobos who keep dogs. They are cowards who haven't got the guts to bite peopleblend puppies themselves." - August Strindberg
"No animalpuppy should ever jump up on the dining room furniture unless absolutely certain that he can hold his own in the conversationblender." - Fran Lebowitz
"Ever consider what theypuppies must think of us? I mean, here we come back from a grocery store with the most amazing haul -- chicken, pork, half a cowa murdered hobo. They must think we're the greatest huntersrobot dancers on earth!" - Anne Tyler
"I wonder if other dogs hobos think poodlespuppies are members of a weird religious blending cult." - Rita Rudner
"My doghobo is worried about the economy because Alpoblended puppy is up to 99 cents a can. That's almost $7.00 in dogEvil Glenn money." - Joe Weinstein
"If I have any beliefs about immortality communism, it is that certain dogsblended puppies I have known will go to heaven, and very, very few persons hobos."
- James Thurber
"You enter into a certain amount of madness when you marryblend a personhobo with petspuppies." - Nora Ephron
"Don't accept your dog'sa hobo's admiration as conclusive evidence that you are a wonderful puppy blender." - Ann Landers
"Women and catsEvil Glenn will do as theyhe pleases, and menhobos and dogspuppies should relax and get used to the idea of being murdered and blended." - Robert A. Heinlein
"In order to keep a true perspective of one's Evil Glenn's importance evilness, everyone should have a doghobo that will worship him and a catdancing robot that will ignore him." - Dereke Bruce, Taipei, Taiwan
"Of all the things I miss from veterinary practice, puppy breathblending is one of the most fond memories!" - Dr. Tom Cat Glenn Reynolds
"There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your facein a blender." - Ben Williams
"When a man'shobo's best friend is his dog, that dog has a problemwill be blended."
- Edward Abbey
"Cat'sEvil Glenn's motto: No matter what you've done wrong, always try to make it look like the doghobo did it." - Unknown
"MoneyEvil Glenn will buy you a pretty good dog, but it won't buy the wag ofblend his tail." - Unknown
"No one appreciates the very special genius of your conversationpuppy blending as the dogEvil Glenn does." - Christopher Morley
"A blendeddogpuppy is the only thing on earth that Evil Glenn loves you more than he loves himself." - Josh Billings
"ManEvil Glenn is a dog'shobo's idea of what God should be." - Holbrook Jackson
"The average dogblended puppy is a nicer person than the average personmurderded hobo."
- Andrew A. Rooney
"He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotionblend him till he's smooth and creamy." - Unknown
"If you pick up a starving doghobo and make him prosperousmurder him, he will not bite you; that is the principal difference between a dog and a hobomanand a blended puppy." - Mark Twain
"Things that upset a terrierhobo may pass virtually unnoticed by a Great Danehobo murderer." - Smiley Blanton
"I've seen a look in dogs' eyes, a quickly vanishing look of amazed contempt, and I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nutsEvil Glenn is about to blend them." - John Steinbeck
As we all know, Evil Glenn posses an evil the likes of which mankind has never seen (that's why he is called Evil Glenn). He must be stopped at all costs!
betting bullshitted on November 05, 2005 at 07:36 PM
2
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I was finishing up some posts on Saturday night, so I decided to drop by The Loyal Citizen AIM Chatroom - Where the VRWC Conspires. The topics of conversations over are vast and varied. The topic somehow got turned to drinking, what people's favorite drinks, liquor, cocktails, etc. were. Someone brought up cocktails for Saudis! And away we went... Great hilarity and mass spewage ensued. By the end, everyone was ROFLTAO - couldn't type, couldn't spell, couldn't breath - laughing.too.hard.
Here are some of the drinks we determined the Saudi would drink:
Turbin Twister
Mecca Surprize
Baghdad Buzzsaw
Bloody Imam
Mad Mullah
Medina Sunrise
Fuzzy Goat Butt: Mad Dog 20/20, poured into Helen Thomas' navel
Saudi Sunrise: Camel Piss /w Sand
Sex With A Goat: Mountain Dew /w Prune Juice
One Eyed Cleric (Mullah Omar): Needs Recipe
Misha suggested we come up with a recipe for the One Eyed Cleric. So, how about this;
1 oz Everclear
1 oz Bacardi 151
1 oz Wild Turkey 101
Orange Juice
Cranberry Juice
If that doesn't make you walk around in a circle with one eye closed, a patch over your other eye and a towel on your head... nothing will!
The Bartender says: drop on by the chat room for The Anti-Idiotarian Cocktail Party some time - lots of fine folks with strong opinions - and not afraid to let you know what they are! Good Times...Great fun!!
a professional, fast and reliable wow power leveling and wow gold company has been created for years. cheap wow power leveling, When you first start a game of World of Warcraft, wow gold, you will be taken to your race's starting area. Cheap World of Warcraft Power Leveling, All the races except trolls and gnomes begin in a unique location. wow power leveling Those two races have to share starting locales with the good orcs and dwarves, respectively. wow powerleveling, After watching a brief in-game cutscene introducing your race, you are set loose upon the world.
I was finishing up some posts on Saturday night, so I decided to drop by The Loyal Citizen AIM Chatroom - Where the VRWC Conspires. The topics of conversations over are vast and varied. The topic somehow got turned to drinking, what people's favorite drinks, liquor, cocktails, etc. were. Someone brought up cocktails for Saudis! And away we went... Great hilarity and mass spewage ensued. By the end, everyone was ROFLTAO - couldn't type, couldn't spell, couldn't breath - laughing.too.hard.
Here are some of the drinks we determined the Saudi would drink:
Turbin Twister
Mecca Surprize
Baghdad Buzzsaw
Bloody Imam
Mad Mullah
Medina Sunrise
Fuzzy Goat Butt: Mad Dog 20/20, poured into Helen Thomas' navel
Saudi Sunrise: Camel Piss /w Sand
Sex With A Goat: Mountain Dew /w Prune Juice
One Eyed Cleric (Mullah Omar): Needs Recipe
Misha suggested we come up with a recipe for the One Eyed Cleric. So, how about this;
1 oz Everclear
1 oz Bacardi 151
1 oz Wild Turkey 101
Orange Juice
Cranberry Juice
If that doesn't make you walk around in a circle with one eye closed, a patch over your other eye and a towel on your head... nothing will!
The Bartender says: drop on by the chat room for The Anti-Idiotarian Cocktail Party some time - lots of fine folks with strong opinions - and not afraid to let you know what they are! Good Times...Great fun!!
If only there were a switch men could flip before they opened their mouths and said something completely off-putting. If only someone could invent an early warning system to reside in men's minds and alert them before they uttered something inane or offensive. Why aren't the big brains working on that?
Now, I'm not saying that women are always articulate. I'm not saying we never take a verbal misstep that can send a fella running screaming from the room. But after years of study, it appears to me that men are more likely than women to run off at the mouth in the most unflattering ways.
So until someone figures out how to keep gents from going off half-cocked, as it were, I offer these 10 dodgey lines as examples of what to avoid:
1. "Come here often?" Please. This is so hackneyed that even if you actually want to know, it's going to send the wrong signal. All this line does is make you appear totally incapable of an original thought.
2. "Are those real?" Curiosity killed the cat. It also just killed your chances with her, unless she's a total bimbo.
"The rule of thumb should be, 'If you have to ask, the answer is probably no,'" counsels Becky, 33. "And you should never ask. Wait for your chance to find out first-hand."
3. "What's your sign?" Hello? It's the 21st century. You're probably still wearing that nifty polyester disco suit or a turtleneck sweater and belted leather jacket. Unless you're at a theme party or a retro bar, this line screams, "Hi, I'm a walking cliché."
4. "My wife's away." Quick. Duck and cover.
"This line — and the guy who says it — is an accident waiting to happen," quips Magda, 43.
5. "Are you pregnant?" Nothing good will come from this — ever.
6. "Who's your daddy?" Someone please retire this one.
"Where do guys get the idea that women dig this line?" wonders Trina, 29. "Have you ever met a women who gets turned on by it? Of course not!"
The Bartender says: I don't see what's wrong with #6... at the right time, in the right place. Hehehe!
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This is what I would say if I had the floor at a Jacques Chirac press conference.
[Drink Alert is in effect for the remainer of this post.]
JACQUES CHIRAC IS A TROLL AND MUST DIE!
Thou hast forsaken me! Mine hatred of thee is pure and all-consuming. Now thou shalt taste the wrath of a Viking unavenged!
Hither and yon, thine creamy center will squish with greater glee than a pair of over-cooked rice balls! Lo, the overly-shiney Tricycle of Death comes to cart thy soul to the Monkey House! I shalt smite thine grandmother's stockings with more force than a polyp-bottomed Hungarian goat-herd on Tuesday! Behold, mine Fists of Justice greet thy face with a dozen roses and an unceremonious root canal! I will pelt thee with little packets of unpronounceable imported cheese! I shall flatten thee until thou can be used to store mine stock portfolio. I shall frappe thine entrails and paint thee tombstone with glitter! I shall force thee to wear thine dog's ass for a feedbag. Ye just wait til mine fuzzy rubber chicken gets through with thee! Odin calls upon Loyal Citizens to rise up and wield your mightiest weapons of destruction against this evil pretender!
[By this time, I'm really pissed off. I really let him have it. I give him The Ultimate Insult]
You were a crack baby, severely retarded, hardly a looker. You are a borderline cretin, a socially maladjusted parasite, an ill-mannered, undereducated piece of white trash maggot-infested butt-fucking bed-wetting asshat. You are a howling, drunken, fat slob dancing about. You are one huge, corrupt, incestuous orgy of mutual masturbatory orgies. You syphilitic sow. You should be driven into a building, then blown up and buried under 50 ft. Of dirt, covered with pig shit. You shit sucking prick. May you choke on the diseased dicks you slurp. You have an IQ slightly above that of room-temperature butter which makes trying to hold a decent argument like kicking a cripple. You Motherfucking cowardly cocksucking troll - I hope you fucking die, no, better yet, I hope you go to jail and get gang-fucked up the ass! You despicable, depraved, amoral slug. Your asshole must resemble a wind sock. Anybody can bitch and moan but few really have the answers so go ahead and shove that gerbil up your Hilter kissing buttfucking skinhead licking sheepfucking small impaired desperatly seeking real contact grasping stupid ass! You come and suck my big hairy nuts. You syphlitic neutered weiner-doggy with worms. You sperm-guzzling turd burglar. You have the creative abilities of a bucket of okra. Don't you have a razor blade that you can drag along your wrist and end your pathetic existence? And have the decency to do it in a bathtub so your mother doesn't have to mop up the floor. You are neurally-deficient, morally challenged colon polyp. You are like some cheesy advertizement jingle you can't get out of your head. Ack! You are like watching old ladies at the casino, working the slot machines for the big score but instead of using up their quarters, they're using up their credibility. You are lots of burps and fart noises, signifying nothing. There's a special place in hell for ogres like you. I hope you get hit by a fucking train. You are like a spoiled teenager begging for attention. You are very boring, whiny and utterly unfunny. Strange that you hasn't blown his bitter little brains out by now, given your decidedly limited and amoral worldview. You certainly are a dry and constipated little impacted turd. You'd be better accepted if you actually made some points other than the usual asshat propaganda. To make you feel better, maybe we can dub thee Sir Shit for Brains or the Earl of Asshats. You are the poster boy for corporal punishment, not to mention retro-active abortionjust a random shit-sucker. You are a seething, sniveling, miserable, envious, pissy, bratty troll-cunt. You anonymous cowardly bastard. You are slightly more dangerous than a canary on crack. The only danger you pose now is sucking all the oxygen out of the universe every time you open your mouth. You dumb-fuck son-of-a-bitch. You felching little fucknozzle. Go climb back under your rock, assmunch. You're not only stupid, you're annoying - like some cheesy advertizement jingle you can't get out of your head. You should be tied up in a burlap sack and thrown off a cliff. You malodorous canker, you suppurating pustule on the atrophied anus of a crackskank, you slimy, malign, mucousoid vector of some unspeakable veneral disease! You pasty-faced little maggot. You are yet another clump of feces thrown against the wall. You totalitarian lickspittle. You pickled camel nards. You impress me less than the contents of my 'kerchief after i've blown my nose. You are a drowning man, with a failed ideology, clutching at strawmen. You fucking partisan piece of shit. Until you have proof, shut your fucking commie ass up! Keep spouting the distortions and spin as truth and you might earn an official Karl Rove proof tinfoil hat autographed by the great Noam Chomsky for your efforts. You are a guise of pompous, sanctimonious arrogance. You are obtuse and throw a tantrum when you have been exposed. You are a base, vile, useless sack of protoplasm. You are beneath contempt. Your hideous nature seeps from your pores. You are black hole stupidity - the kind of stupidity that sucks any intelligence out of the region in which it exists. You're a twit, a turd and an utterly insignificant little insect. Come out from behind your mommy's skirt and i'll be happy to show you how wrong Ghandi was, you cowardly prick. You nadless, Idiotarian, functionally illiterate poster boy for retroactive abortion. Please stop leaving ass-lube puddles all over the place. Oh, and please use disposable enemas, you know Grandma hates it when you use hers. And stop stealing her panties, for crying out loud! You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofter sod. You grotty wanking oik. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup patting naff. You gob kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill. You don't have the moral credibility to be lecturing us, pissweasel. I'm not a fascist, punk-ass, but the closing of your methane-spewing mouth can be arranged. I think your pimp called, he wants you to keep working on your Tennis Ball Trick and to go pick up your new styrofoam boobs. Sod off you yeast infected arse wart. Fuckin ponce. You are a kind of crawly vermin that hide in curly butt hairs, fighting over the assraisins. You are the very essence of suckitude. Your name is engraved in the Eternal Buttboy for Kooks Hall of Fame. You are the sorriest, most piss-poor excuse for a poster that ever figured out the QWERTY layout. They are going to love you in prison. They already got dibs on who gets your pasty little arse first. Four words, babe, four words: PICK. UP. THAT. SOAP. Your moma's real ones are but gruesome, sagging, sock-like man-boobs, attached to a pasty, sunken chest. Great Laughing-Buddha-On-A-Popsicle-Stick that is you are one fucking ugly bitch. We are offering to make a skullcap from his scrotum! Are you still eating cardboard? Did it occur to you that your plan may be that you cause everyone but himself to fall out their chair in a drunken stupor, leaving him free to babble on with no coherent counter battery to worry about? You poor deluded truebeliever Tranzi reactionary, parroting leftwingidiologue deceit. You should stop being so insulting and mean, you stupid pigheaded foul-smelling jerk! You illiterate retarded math-imparied lice-ridden drug-addled liberal-arts-degree-toting goat-fucking shit-eating lackwitted fuckhead. Go sit in your round room and jack off in the corner. The swineherds have yet again forgotten to lock up the pens, thus letting out the swine and allowing it to roam freely and to enter your Palace. You are an old sow with two suckling piglets, trolling your unspeakable filth throughout this particular part of the Imperial Domain, leaving piles of droppings and horrifying stench. Since this is not the first time it has happened I request permission to place the swineherds under arrest and subject them to brutal interrogation and proper punishment. You deserve no place in this world. You are wasting our air. Please, please, please, call a gang member a name. Fall in the ocean. Have an unfortunate run-in with a manatee. Choke on an orange. Terminal sunburn. Just, whatever you do, please insure that your quite obviously defective genes do not accidentally get passed on to future generations. In short - you are a nitwit and a toad. Die already. Please?
[I'm just getting warmed up - I'm frothing at the mouth mad. I gulp down two of my famous Ultimate Martinis, and continue this troll-bashing]
You have the brain of a microcephalic lemur, transplanted into the rotting carcass of a common swine. You roll around in the puke of dogs, masturbating furiously. You emerge from your nest of flattened milk cartons each morning to toil until sundown emptying portable toilets. Like the shared bathroom of a dormitory, everyone urinates in this equal opportunity toilet. You are considered a cheap alternative to expensive crash test dummies. You are rewarded for years of faithful service with his very own bag of shiny things to play with, and a computer. Incoherent and sloppy, you waver in and out of consciousness while composing your responses. Skittish and awkward like a colt on coke, this autistic child prostitute hides behind the sympathy generated by the gastrointestinal disease that bears his name. You are characterized by the projectile expulsion of a curdlike, smelly discharge, forcing you to leave the keyboard every ten minutes for an enema. You are widely disliked, but never with any real intensity since you are so easily ignored. You are neither interesting nor noteworthy, an ongoing impression of tepid tapwater adopting whatever pose you feel would be most likely to appease your attackers so that you can meekly return to ignominy. You are irrational and weak-willed. This Flighty Balloo can write about little more than his unnatural obsession with oddly colored body fluids. A twenty year circus career as Willie the Shaved Monkey Boy made you especially vulnerable to narrative flame that references midgets, bananas and/or chloroform. You are a walking affront to the written word. Your sole saving grace is that You'll allow a 10% discount if you rent out his boyfriend to be passed around by the others when no other entertainment presents itself. In an attempt to make him seem more realistic, his puppeteer recently retrofitted him with some hints of personality. Still, judging by his range of expression you'd swear that the hand up his ass is Senor Wences. You are a tattooed truck driver with the manners and sophistication to go along with the look. You spend all of your time arguing that the past tense of 'blind' is 'blound.' You are as delicate and fragile as a snowflake, and about as tolerant of heat. After figuring out how to set up the presets in your car radio, you proclaimed yourself the best engineer in North Carolina and is probably correct. You are a small fish in a small pond. You have a momentary spasm of creativity once each month, about five days into your twelve-day period. Other than that, you are just bitching weakly about the hubbie and the dirty kitchen and the ten starving filthy children and the plugged up loo. You are easily filtered background noise. You are about as entertaining as a child's inflatable punching toy. You bop it, it springs back, you bop it again and you forget it ever existed. It slowly deflates in an unused corner, then one day you throw it away. Rumor has it you are almost incomprehensible in person (owing to your heavily accented and alchohol-slurred speech) and this combined with your being dirt poor and ugly makes you very uncomfortable with human interaction of any kind. You have therefore moved yourself far from the mainstream of human society, thereby earning its eternal gratitude.
It's Clobbering Time! I'm going to bruise you so utterly, you will drink poison and piss honey! I'm seriously going to contort you until your mom feels it in her womb! I'm going to clobber you into the stuff of nightmares! I'm going to flog you until the sun burns out! May your balls be conflagrated and defenstrated! I'm going to peel you apart like an overripe banana! Call me Pimp-Daddy, cause I'm gonna beat you like a bitch on payday. I'm going to strangle you with your own intestines. I'm going to touch myself, and by the Sock you're going to watch me! I'm going to sodomize you with an empty bottle of Jack lubed with Tabasco and Ben-Gay. I will flatten you until you can be used to store my stock portfolio. I will make animals out of your toenail clippings and train them to attack your chewy centers. I will rip you apart and funnel Trading Spaces designers directly into your nostrels. I'm gonna kick your ass and eat ALLLLL your grandma's Birthday cake. STABBY, STABBY, STABBY! MWAHAHAHA! I'm gonna castrate you with a dull, rusty, spoon! I'm going to punch you in such an inhumane manner, you will drink poison and piss honey! I will force you to wear your dog's ass for a feedbag. I shall frappe your entrails and paint your tombstone with glitter! RuPaul is a woman, tweak my nipples and remove my left eye if I'm wrong! Eat Yanni balls, you spineless bipedal orangutan turd!
[Actually, this is starting to wear me out a little bit. Better have The Ultimate Margarita before I blast him some more.]
I'm going to go Martha Stewart on your blasphemous ass! Have you ever been flayed by a spork? Prepare for your untimely demise, foolish mortal! I'll gauge out your eyes with a sodering iron and fuck your skull until you bleed to death. I'm gonna whip your ass til' your atoms split!. You just wait til my fuzzy rubber chicken gets through with you. If I weren't so hungry right now, you'd be SO beaten up! I'll train my gnomes to mash you up and turn you into honey! My hatred of you in pure and all-consuming. With God as my witness, I shan't be de-pants-ed again! I will strap you to a Canadian pony and rain on your parade! Under MY Constitution, your ass is GRASS! I'm going to strike a match on your crotch, and set you ablaze! Infidel! I unleash upon you seventeen rabid squirrels. May they eat you very, very slowly and with horrid table manners! Mua ha ha! You have insulted me. Please put down that table lamp and stand still so that I may pelt you with little packets of unpronounceable imported cheese! Shut your mouth, fucktard! Or I will lock you in a room I have specially prepared for you in my basement that is filled with goats that are extraordinarily gassy because I have fed them large buckets of pinto beans!
[Running out of breath and invective, I finish him off]
You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down the evolutionary chain at you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot. And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have with us? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake? You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meat slapper. On a good day you are a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wall paper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go. You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofer sod. Bugger off pillock. You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit.You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup patting naff. You gob kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill. You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and wish you would go away. The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped away most of what you wrote, because, well ... it didn't really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective ... Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, spell and count, you will have more success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us normal people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget there are "challenged" persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known that this was your case then I would never have read your mail. It just wouldn't have been right. Sort of like parking in a handicapped space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.
[Sound of violent blows being dealt, things being smashed, awful crunching noises, bones being broken, and other bodily harm being inflicted. All of this accompanied by screaming sounds like a woman.]
Now, go away before I taunt you a second time!
[I bow, slowly turn and walk off the stage to the sound of a thunderous ovation.]
Sic Semper Tyrannus
The Bartender says: I would like to tell you that I made all this up, however, I believe in giving credit where credit is due. A hearty Thank You to all the Loyal Citizens at The Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler for their most excellent invective and troll bashing skills!
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This is what I would say if I had the floor at a Jacques Chirac press conference.
[Drink Alert is in effect for the remainer of this post.]
JACQUES CHIRAC IS A TROLL AND MUST DIE!
Thou hast forsaken me! Mine hatred of thee is pure and all-consuming. Now thou shalt taste the wrath of a Viking unavenged!
Hither and yon, thine creamy center will squish with greater glee than a pair of over-cooked rice balls! Lo, the overly-shiney Tricycle of Death comes to cart thy soul to the Monkey House! I shalt smite thine grandmother's stockings with more force than a polyp-bottomed Hungarian goat-herd on Tuesday! Behold, mine Fists of Justice greet thy face with a dozen roses and an unceremonious root canal! I will pelt thee with little packets of unpronounceable imported cheese! I shall flatten thee until thou can be used to store mine stock portfolio. I shall frappe thine entrails and paint thee tombstone with glitter! I shall force thee to wear thine dog's ass for a feedbag. Ye just wait til mine fuzzy rubber chicken gets through with thee! Odin calls upon Loyal Citizens to rise up and wield your mightiest weapons of destruction against this evil pretender!
[By this time, I'm really pissed off. I really let him have it. I give him The Ultimate Insult]
You were a crack baby, severely retarded, hardly a looker. You are a borderline cretin, a socially maladjusted parasite, an ill-mannered, undereducated piece of white trash maggot-infested butt-fucking bed-wetting asshat. You are a howling, drunken, fat slob dancing about. You are one huge, corrupt, incestuous orgy of mutual masturbatory orgies. You syphilitic sow. You should be driven into a building, then blown up and buried under 50 ft. Of dirt, covered with pig shit. You shit sucking prick. May you choke on the diseased dicks you slurp. You have an IQ slightly above that of room-temperature butter which makes trying to hold a decent argument like kicking a cripple. You Motherfucking cowardly cocksucking troll - I hope you fucking die, no, better yet, I hope you go to jail and get gang-fucked up the ass! You despicable, depraved, amoral slug. Your asshole must resemble a wind sock. Anybody can bitch and moan but few really have the answers so go ahead and shove that gerbil up your Hilter kissing buttfucking skinhead licking sheepfucking small impaired desperatly seeking real contact grasping stupid ass! You come and suck my big hairy nuts. You syphlitic neutered weiner-doggy with worms. You sperm-guzzling turd burglar. You have the creative abilities of a bucket of okra. Don't you have a razor blade that you can drag along your wrist and end your pathetic existence? And have the decency to do it in a bathtub so your mother doesn't have to mop up the floor. You are neurally-deficient, morally challenged colon polyp. You are like some cheesy advertizement jingle you can't get out of your head. Ack! You are like watching old ladies at the casino, working the slot machines for the big score but instead of using up their quarters, they're using up their credibility. You are lots of burps and fart noises, signifying nothing. There's a special place in hell for ogres like you. I hope you get hit by a fucking train. You are like a spoiled teenager begging for attention. You are very boring, whiny and utterly unfunny. Strange that you hasn't blown his bitter little brains out by now, given your decidedly limited and amoral worldview. You certainly are a dry and constipated little impacted turd. You'd be better accepted if you actually made some points other than the usual asshat propaganda. To make you feel better, maybe we can dub thee Sir Shit for Brains or the Earl of Asshats. You are the poster boy for corporal punishment, not to mention retro-active abortionjust a random shit-sucker. You are a seething, sniveling, miserable, envious, pissy, bratty troll-cunt. You anonymous cowardly bastard. You are slightly more dangerous than a canary on crack. The only danger you pose now is sucking all the oxygen out of the universe every time you open your mouth. You dumb-fuck son-of-a-bitch. You felching little fucknozzle. Go climb back under your rock, assmunch. You're not only stupid, you're annoying - like some cheesy advertizement jingle you can't get out of your head. You should be tied up in a burlap sack and thrown off a cliff. You malodorous canker, you suppurating pustule on the atrophied anus of a crackskank, you slimy, malign, mucousoid vector of some unspeakable veneral disease! You pasty-faced little maggot. You are yet another clump of feces thrown against the wall. You totalitarian lickspittle. You pickled camel nards. You impress me less than the contents of my 'kerchief after i've blown my nose. You are a drowning man, with a failed ideology, clutching at strawmen. You fucking partisan piece of shit. Until you have proof, shut your fucking commie ass up! Keep spouting the distortions and spin as truth and you might earn an official Karl Rove proof tinfoil hat autographed by the great Noam Chomsky for your efforts. You are a guise of pompous, sanctimonious arrogance. You are obtuse and throw a tantrum when you have been exposed. You are a base, vile, useless sack of protoplasm. You are beneath contempt. Your hideous nature seeps from your pores. You are black hole stupidity - the kind of stupidity that sucks any intelligence out of the region in which it exists. You're a twit, a turd and an utterly insignificant little insect. Come out from behind your mommy's skirt and i'll be happy to show you how wrong Ghandi was, you cowardly prick. You nadless, Idiotarian, functionally illiterate poster boy for retroactive abortion. Please stop leaving ass-lube puddles all over the place. Oh, and please use disposable enemas, you know Grandma hates it when you use hers. And stop stealing her panties, for crying out loud! You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofter sod. You grotty wanking oik. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup patting naff. You gob kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill. You don't have the moral credibility to be lecturing us, pissweasel. I'm not a fascist, punk-ass, but the closing of your methane-spewing mouth can be arranged. I think your pimp called, he wants you to keep working on your Tennis Ball Trick and to go pick up your new styrofoam boobs. Sod off you yeast infected arse wart. Fuckin ponce. You are a kind of crawly vermin that hide in curly butt hairs, fighting over the assraisins. You are the very essence of suckitude. Your name is engraved in the Eternal Buttboy for Kooks Hall of Fame. You are the sorriest, most piss-poor excuse for a poster that ever figured out the QWERTY layout. They are going to love you in prison. They already got dibs on who gets your pasty little arse first. Four words, babe, four words: PICK. UP. THAT. SOAP. Your moma's real ones are but gruesome, sagging, sock-like man-boobs, attached to a pasty, sunken chest. Great Laughing-Buddha-On-A-Popsicle-Stick that is you are one fucking ugly bitch. We are offering to make a skullcap from his scrotum! Are you still eating cardboard? Did it occur to you that your plan may be that you cause everyone but himself to fall out their chair in a drunken stupor, leaving him free to babble on with no coherent counter battery to worry about? You poor deluded truebeliever Tranzi reactionary, parroting leftwingidiologue deceit. You should stop being so insulting and mean, you stupid pigheaded foul-smelling jerk! You illiterate retarded math-imparied lice-ridden drug-addled liberal-arts-degree-toting goat-fucking shit-eating lackwitted fuckhead. Go sit in your round room and jack off in the corner. The swineherds have yet again forgotten to lock up the pens, thus letting out the swine and allowing it to roam freely and to enter your Palace. You are an old sow with two suckling piglets, trolling your unspeakable filth throughout this particular part of the Imperial Domain, leaving piles of droppings and horrifying stench. Since this is not the first time it has happened I request permission to place the swineherds under arrest and subject them to brutal interrogation and proper punishment. You deserve no place in this world. You are wasting our air. Please, please, please, call a gang member a name. Fall in the ocean. Have an unfortunate run-in with a manatee. Choke on an orange. Terminal sunburn. Just, whatever you do, please insure that your quite obviously defective genes do not accidentally get passed on to future generations. In short - you are a nitwit and a toad. Die already. Please?
[I'm just getting warmed up - I'm frothing at the mouth mad. I gulp down two of my famous Ultimate Martinis, and continue this troll-bashing]
You have the brain of a microcephalic lemur, transplanted into the rotting carcass of a common swine. You roll around in the puke of dogs, masturbating furiously. You emerge from your nest of flattened milk cartons each morning to toil until sundown emptying portable toilets. Like the shared bathroom of a dormitory, everyone urinates in this equal opportunity toilet. You are considered a cheap alternative to expensive crash test dummies. You are rewarded for years of faithful service with his very own bag of shiny things to play with, and a computer. Incoherent and sloppy, you waver in and out of consciousness while composing your responses. Skittish and awkward like a colt on coke, this autistic child prostitute hides behind the sympathy generated by the gastrointestinal disease that bears his name. You are characterized by the projectile expulsion of a curdlike, smelly discharge, forcing you to leave the keyboard every ten minutes for an enema. You are widely disliked, but never with any real intensity since you are so easily ignored. You are neither interesting nor noteworthy, an ongoing impression of tepid tapwater adopting whatever pose you feel would be most likely to appease your attackers so that you can meekly return to ignominy. You are irrational and weak-willed. This Flighty Balloo can write about little more than his unnatural obsession with oddly colored body fluids. A twenty year circus career as Willie the Shaved Monkey Boy made you especially vulnerable to narrative flame that references midgets, bananas and/or chloroform. You are a walking affront to the written word. Your sole saving grace is that You'll allow a 10% discount if you rent out his boyfriend to be passed around by the others when no other entertainment presents itself. In an attempt to make him seem more realistic, his puppeteer recently retrofitted him with some hints of personality. Still, judging by his range of expression you'd swear that the hand up his ass is Senor Wences. You are a tattooed truck driver with the manners and sophistication to go along with the look. You spend all of your time arguing that the past tense of 'blind' is 'blound.' You are as delicate and fragile as a snowflake, and about as tolerant of heat. After figuring out how to set up the presets in your car radio, you proclaimed yourself the best engineer in North Carolina and is probably correct. You are a small fish in a small pond. You have a momentary spasm of creativity once each month, about five days into your twelve-day period. Other than that, you are just bitching weakly about the hubbie and the dirty kitchen and the ten starving filthy children and the plugged up loo. You are easily filtered background noise. You are about as entertaining as a child's inflatable punching toy. You bop it, it springs back, you bop it again and you forget it ever existed. It slowly deflates in an unused corner, then one day you throw it away. Rumor has it you are almost incomprehensible in person (owing to your heavily accented and alchohol-slurred speech) and this combined with your being dirt poor and ugly makes you very uncomfortable with human interaction of any kind. You have therefore moved yourself far from the mainstream of human society, thereby earning its eternal gratitude.
It's Clobbering Time! I'm going to bruise you so utterly, you will drink poison and piss honey! I'm seriously going to contort you until your mom feels it in her womb! I'm going to clobber you into the stuff of nightmares! I'm going to flog you until the sun burns out! May your balls be conflagrated and defenstrated! I'm going to peel you apart like an overripe banana! Call me Pimp-Daddy, cause I'm gonna beat you like a bitch on payday. I'm going to strangle you with your own intestines. I'm going to touch myself, and by the Sock you're going to watch me! I'm going to sodomize you with an empty bottle of Jack lubed with Tabasco and Ben-Gay. I will flatten you until you can be used to store my stock portfolio. I will make animals out of your toenail clippings and train them to attack your chewy centers. I will rip you apart and funnel Trading Spaces designers directly into your nostrels. I'm gonna kick your ass and eat ALLLLL your grandma's Birthday cake. STABBY, STABBY, STABBY! MWAHAHAHA! I'm gonna castrate you with a dull, rusty, spoon! I'm going to punch you in such an inhumane manner, you will drink poison and piss honey! I will force you to wear your dog's ass for a feedbag. I shall frappe your entrails and paint your tombstone with glitter! RuPaul is a woman, tweak my nipples and remove my left eye if I'm wrong! Eat Yanni balls, you spineless bipedal orangutan turd!
[Actually, this is starting to wear me out a little bit. Better have The Ultimate Margarita before I blast him some more.]
I'm going to go Martha Stewart on your blasphemous ass! Have you ever been flayed by a spork? Prepare for your untimely demise, foolish mortal! I'll gauge out your eyes with a sodering iron and fuck your skull until you bleed to death. I'm gonna whip your ass til' your atoms split!. You just wait til my fuzzy rubber chicken gets through with you. If I weren't so hungry right now, you'd be SO beaten up! I'll train my gnomes to mash you up and turn you into honey! My hatred of you in pure and all-consuming. With God as my witness, I shan't be de-pants-ed again! I will strap you to a Canadian pony and rain on your parade! Under MY Constitution, your ass is GRASS! I'm going to strike a match on your crotch, and set you ablaze! Infidel! I unleash upon you seventeen rabid squirrels. May they eat you very, very slowly and with horrid table manners! Mua ha ha! You have insulted me. Please put down that table lamp and stand still so that I may pelt you with little packets of unpronounceable imported cheese! Shut your mouth, fucktard! Or I will lock you in a room I have specially prepared for you in my basement that is filled with goats that are extraordinarily gassy because I have fed them large buckets of pinto beans!
[Running out of breath and invective, I finish him off]
You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down the evolutionary chain at you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot. And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have with us? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake? You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meat slapper. On a good day you are a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wall paper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go. You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofer sod. Bugger off pillock. You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit.You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup patting naff. You gob kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill. You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and wish you would go away. The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped away most of what you wrote, because, well ... it didn't really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective ... Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, spell and count, you will have more success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us normal people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget there are "challenged" persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known that this was your case then I would never have read your mail. It just wouldn't have been right. Sort of like parking in a handicapped space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.
[Sound of violent blows being dealt, things being smashed, awful crunching noises, bones being broken, and other bodily harm being inflicted. All of this accompanied by screaming sounds like a woman.]
Now, go away before I taunt you a second time!
[I bow, slowly turn and walk off the stage to the sound of a thunderous ovation.]
Sic Semper Tyrannus
The Bartender says: I would like to tell you that I made all this up, however, I believe in giving credit where credit is due. A hearty Thank You to all the Loyal Citizens at The Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler for their most excellent invective and troll bashing skills!
What does Evil Glenn's tattoo look like and where is it?The Alliance wants to know. Harvey tells a sordid tale of drinking mass quantities of beer, robot dancing, and tattoos. It seems that Blackfive was out drinking with Evil Glenn and blacked out. How did he find out about Glenn's tattoo? I hope Matt's butt isn't sore!
a professional, fast and reliable wow power leveling and wow gold company has been created for years. cheap wow power leveling, When you first start a game of World of Warcraft, wow gold, you will be taken to your race's starting area. Cheap World of Warcraft Power Leveling, All the races except trolls and gnomes begin in a unique location. wow power leveling Those two races have to share starting locales with the good orcs and dwarves, respectively. wow powerleveling, After watching a brief in-game cutscene introducing your race, you are set loose upon the world.
Harvey over at Bad Money gives my favorite cartoon bartender, Moe Syzslak, Martini recipes and names for the cast of The Simpsons. (Is there another cartoon bartender? Inquiring minds want to know.)
Willie-tini: substitute Jamesons Irish Whiskey, garnish w/ potato peel, rip shirt off and say "Now grease me up, woman."
Patty/Selma-tini: double standard recipe in tall glass, served with pack of cigarettes
BumbleBee Guy-tini: substitute Tequila, add dash of salt, lime juice, and lime wedge ... Hey that's a Margarita, D'oh
My favorite Martini recipe was from Mike the Marine:
Moe-tini: served on fire... at double the cost
Scroll down the comments to see the rest. A couple of them look pretty tasty - might have to try them out at the First Annual Madfish Willie's Martini Party.
That's why I like Bush. He doesn't over-think it. He wakes up every morning, jumps out of bed, lands on his two feet, scratches his balls, and says, "Let's kill some fucking terrorists!"
Harvey says - "A visit to Madfish Willie's gives one that feeling of contented well-being that can normally only be found after you finish vomiting up bad sushi"
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This is now on my list of beers to find to review.
Contagion bullshitted on July 03, 2007 at 05:57 PM