Sad news as Lou Reed died Sunday at the age of 71. Upon hearing the news Rolling Stone guitarist Keith Richards pumped his fist, let out a “whoo-hoo” and shouted “It’s just you and me now, The Devil!”
The 23rd Annual Halloween Dog Parade was held in Tompkins Square Park in New York City this weekend. It was a banner year for the parade as over 300 pooches participated and only a hundred were really rats.
Candy corn was recently named the most hated Halloween candy of all time. The treat came just ahead of “Perry’s Unwrapped Totally Safe Treats,” “Perry’s ‘Seriously, Those Kit-Kats Taste Better In My Van,” and “Mike and Ikes.”
Coach Mayfield here. First off I want to tell all y’all how excited I am for the rest of this season of Golden Griffins football. I know some of y’all have some concerns that I’ve been a little too hard on some of the kids and I wanted to clear the air. I mostly want to apologize to Patrick, who I’ve been calling “Pussy McDaniels” for the past week now. I was just trying to motivate him to be the best no-contact flag football offensive lineman he can be but I understand that when somebody’s as big a pussy as Patrick is he’s gonna get hurt by my words. This apology also goes to “Pussy O’Hoolihan” and “Kumtwat McGuff.” Y’all know who y’all are.
I’m very proud of all the kids on the team even if it is a goddamned embarrassment to be the fifth best flag football team in Fort Worth. I mean we’re not even as good as Hal Holworth’s team and one of their kids don’t have hands. I know the kids are trying and maybe some of my motivational techniques have been a little harsh. My pa taught me to be tough and I wanted to pass that along. That’s who I learned my “you bleed on the field or I make you bleed off it” motivational technique, and he wasn’t even talking about football. He meant landscaping and he really whupped the tar out of me. It wasn’t fun.
I’ve also been informed that some people see me as a sexual harasser to some of the lady moms at the games. To be honest I really don’t get this one. Where I come from we congratulate good effort with a slap on the keister and who better to congratulate for the kids success than the lady that shot the kid out of their sweet little woman-hole. I don’t even slap all the lady’s butt parts, just the good-lookin’ ones. That should be motivation to the other moms to get a little more shapely. I hear Curves is all the vogue.
I just want our kids to be the best flag football players they can be and for me to touch a few sweet butts in the process. I don’t really see that as a crime but I know people are sensitive these days what with the Obama Care and the gay marriage and all (not that anybody’s askin’ but for the record I think lesbians are sweet). When a ten year old doesn’t know the difference between a fly pattern and a 15-yard post I need to learn them and I thought the best way to do that was to make them run around the field a few times with me on their back. It wasn’t even that tough for the fat ones, like “Kumtwat McGuff.” That boy’s fatter’n my pregnant ex-wife and boy was she a fat’n.
So, yeah, I’m sorry and all. Hook ‘em Horns.
Wallace Mayfield, PHD
ME: (Ship Horn) Ahoy, Kim! It’s your favorite guy in the whole wide world, Zachary the Daquiri! I’m coming to you from a glorious luxury cruise liner! That’s right, baby, things are going pretty well. Anyway, I was just laying here on the sun deck, lotioning my lats, when I figured “What the hay? Why don’t I see what that pretty lady who probably still has some unresolved feelings for me is up to?” Also I have some time to kill while Karen gets out of her aerobic pole dancing class. Oh, I just realized I never mentioned Karen before. What a dummy! Karen’s my girlfriend. She’s a model. A real model. Not one of those models who wears American flag themed bikinis at auto shows, the classy kind. Anyhoo, I was hopin’ to talk to ya. Are you still dating that child services lawyer? Did I ever tell you I read on HuffPo that a lot of those guys are pedos? Might be something to look into. Well, call me back when you get a chance. If I don’t pick up I’m probably enjoying one of the many amenities a luxury cruise has to offer, or I’m performing oral sex. Either way I’ll hit ya up. Ciao!
VOICEMAIL 2 (ONE HOUR LATER)
ME: Hey Kim, it’s me again. Just wanted to make sure you got my last voicemail. I sent it about an hour ago and I still haven’t heard from ya. Karen’s in her “Perfecting the Blow Job” seminar so I figured I’d check back in. Boy, life on a cruise is great! It’s just been nothing but maxin’, relaxin’, and enjoying one cocktail weenie after another! If only they had cocktail pigs in a blanket - oh, wait, THEY DO! Geez, I’m starting to feel like a real jerk with all this talk about how great I’m doing. I wouldn’t want you to get jealous and come crawling back to me. (Laughs way, way too long) I’ve gotta tell ya, staring out at the beautiful Pacific is reminding me of all the fun we had. Like, remember how I used to call you Special K? What goofsters we were! We were always pranking each other, like how I made fart noises whenever you sat down or how I would pull out your chair from under you or how I got drunk and hit on your mom that one time or how I couldn’t get an erection unless you we played “Head Over Feet” by Alanis Morrisette. Thinking about it now I don’t know why I ever broke up with you after you told me that you “couldn’t do this anymore” and you wanted a “real man” and were “breaking up with me.” Hmm, we were so crazy back then. So FUCKING crazy. (Fights back tears for thirty seconds) Oh boy, it looks like they’re loading up the old cocktail weenie trough with more weenies. Gotta go. Call me back. Wang Chung!
VOICEMAIL 3 (ONE WEEK LATER)
ME: Hey, Kim’s ghost. I say Kim’s ghost because there’s no way Kim would go a whole week without getting back to me. She must’ve been brutally murdered! Ha, I’m just kidding! I could never be mad at you, you little sex kitten! So, guess what? I’m on another cruise! Yup, the first one was so fun Karen and I got off the ship and just hopped onto the one next to it. Didn’t even know where it was going. I think it’s the Bahama’s or somewhere even more impressive. Gana, maybe. I don’t know where that is. I never cared much for that geography bullshit.
KAREN: (in the distance) Hey Zach! Come over here so we can have some more of the sex I love so much! I’m still trembling from the last of the several consecutive climaxes you led me to achieve!
ME: Oh, I guess I better get going. Karen gets pretty snippy when I don’t give her the standard five daily orgasms. Soooo, CALL ME BACK! I’m the greatest!
KAREN: (As phone hangs up) Oh, I feel so pleasured!
VOICEMAIL 4 (ONE WEEK LATER)
ME: (clearly very drunk) Kiiiiiim. It’s Zachary’s Daquiri’s. Where you? I’m just here…on another cruise with Karen. So many cruises! Why won’t you call me? I just want to tell you how happy I am and how great these cruises are…(long pause…bursts into tears) OH, GOD!…OH, DEAR HEAVENLY LORD WHY ARE YOU SO INCAPABLE OF MERCY! (tries to gather himself) I’m a big boy. I’m a big boy. I…I’ve got a confession to make. There’s no cruise. I made it all up. I just wanted you to want me again and I couldn’t think of anything more impressive than the 25,000 tons of aquatic luxury cruises offer. I made Karen up, too. I couldn’t even think of a good model name for fuck’s sake! I was seeing a lady for a while but she worked at a Blimpies and I walked in on her giving a handy to some guy in the meat locker. I just missin’ you. I miss the way you smelled when I smelled you while you slept. Let’s get together and talk about old times. It’ll be fun. We had fun. (more tears) DON’T LET ME DROWN IN THIS PUDDLE OF MISERY! Fuck…fuck…fuck. Okay…I’m great. I’m happy I did this. This is good. Call me back. I love you…I didn’t just say that.
VOICEMAIL 5 (THE NEXT DAY, AGAIN DRUNK)
From the Desk of Chester Gladwell
Principal, Grovefield Elementary
As I’m sure many of you are aware the Grove County school system has come under rough financial times. After the third Piggly Wiggly burned to the ground I know many of you have been concerned that these setbacks would result in a sub-par educational experience for your children. I’m writing you now to let you know that is not the case. An antagonistic relationship with Bobby Brown isn’t the only thing I share with Whitney Houston. I too believe that children are our future. That is why I am taking this opportunity to announce some slight changes that will come into effect on September 1, the first day of school, in the hopes of making said future as bright as possible.
Starting September 1st, Grovefield Elementary will be merging with Big Ted’s Tire and Oil to create “Grovefield Elementary Tire and Oil.”
How will this effect my child? That’s a great question! During school hours half of the school’s campus will now be dedicated to auto repair and maintenance. For example, the Kindergarten wing will now be referred to as the Kindergarten/oil change warehouse. Don’t worry parents, your little ones will still learn how to stay within the lines, and now they might even pick up a thing or two about routine auto maintenance! Talk about a deal!
That’s not all we’re doing to insure your child has a Grad A education! Grovefield Elementary Tire and Oil is also renting out it’s gym/tire depot as a meeting place at night for the well known evil genius “Meldar the Miserable” to hold his evil meetings. Of course this won’t effect students as Meldar has promised to be out of the gym, with his death ray securely stowed away, by the time our little rays of sunshine arrive at 8 AM.
Finally, instead of the standard, boring children’s “lunch” students will now be serving caramel-coated Styrofoam. Now that’s what I call delicious and nutritious! Yum!
I’m confident that these changes will guarantee your child and every child at Grovefield Elementary Tire and Oil the best year yet! We’ll see you in the fall!
Chester Gladwell, Principal/Head Mechanic
About every six months I find myself in a conversation with friends about their first concert. This is always a source of giggles and embarrassment as they joke about how great they used to think LFO was. I always stay quiet because, like most competitions of shame, I have no rival. My first concert, much like the thirty or so that followed, is far more humiliating than any 98 Degrees or Fastball show. (For the over forty crowd…is Styxx a good reference?) That’s because they were all Christian Rock. This is my story.
Carman: The Righteous Invasion Of Truth Tour
Louisiana Superdome, 1995(ish)
First off, a few things on Carman. It’s important to note that this was not his first album. This was his 16th. (His debut record was called Some-o-Dat aka Carman. You’re welcome.) As a child, much in the same way I assumed Steve Young always played for the 49ers and Ed McMahon was just the Publishers Clearinghouse guy, I thought Carman had always been rapping his way to God’s glory. In fact, the rap game was a new attempt to re-boot the Jersey natives career. He made waves in the 80’s with such hits as “Radically Saved,” a “Rawhide” inspired country-esque tune that can be described as music only in the loosest sense. It’s a perfect example of what happens when Christians attempt to enter popular culture. They’re so far removed from what the rest of society considers good they end up with some alien-level bastardized imitation of entertainment that’s “drunk uncle at Thanksgiving” quality at best. The early nineties saw a lull for Carman as the culture was moving on to an edgier sound, but if anything Carman’s a shrewd businessman and I can only assume that after seeing the success of Coolio’s “Gangsta’s Paradise” he must’ve thought that it was time to get in the rap game, and this was as close to rap as the good Lord would allow him to get. The greatest horror of all: he was right. RIOT was a hit, Dove Award winning, album and Carman was playing the 50,000 seat Superdome. The previous year he had played New Orleans in an unprecedented free show. Apparently the success of RIOT allowed the Lord to give him the go-ahead to charge a finski. Carman’s cup overflowed with blessings.
The opening act was Bibleman, a Bible-thumping super hero played by a sobered-up and born-again Willie Aames. Sadly, our hero did not get his powers from getting bitten by a radioactive Bible or being struck by lightning in Sunday school. From what I can tell Bibleman doesn’t have any actual powers other than being the worst guy to get stuck talking to at a party. Bibleman was also a syndicated television show for eight years, five more than Arrested Development. This might be the only known tangible evidence for the existence of God. Aames wrote, directed and produced the project, basically making it his Clerks. (Please, for the love of God, click this link.) Suffice to say the Eight is Enough residuals had run out by the mid-nineties. Due to his shouldering the full Bibleman production load, Ames didn’t have the time to make it out for this performance in person - even the grace of God can’t get you out of the editing bay. Instead we were treated to a pseudo-Bibleman with Aames’ voice piped through the PA like a water stunt show at Six Flags. A full stage production followed where Bibleman donned the “Breastplate of Truth” and “Sword of Faith” (basically your standard Toys R’ Us glowing lightsaber) and fought one of his many villains of iniquity. I can’t recall who it was but I’m guessing Maurice the Masturbator. I have a vague memory of the Aames recording breaking down into tears at one point, screaming about how he “fingered Nicole Eggert on the set of Charles in Charge goddammit!” and “how had it all come to this?!” but that could just be a fever-dream.
I’ve been spending weeks trying to remember specifics from the concert but it seems as though most of it has been blocked out. In many ways this was my Okinawa. One thing I’ll never forget - it’s as burned in my brain as my first kiss or the day I learned of yogurt pretzels - was Carman’s outfit: leather jacket, leather pants, leather gloves, sunglasses. Like if twenty years after Happy Days Fonzi became a S&M Master (“Heyyyy! Shove this gag in your mouth, I’m gonna grab the anal staff!”). I remember there being a handful of Jesus-approved fly girls (absolutely no pelvic thrusts) dancing around while Carman rapped songs like ‘7 Ways 2 Praise’ and ‘Not 4 Sale.’” (Apparently somebody mentioned to Carman back in the ‘80’s that numbers for words was bitchin’ and he really ran with it.) The biggest thing I remember was the fact that this is what I thought music was. Aside from Brother William Buckley leading the congregation in a rousing rendition of “Go Tell it on the Mountain” this was the first time I had ever seen music performed live. There’s a reason why I didn’t buy an album for myself till I was a junior in high school. (I’m pretty sure it was James Blunt, but that’s neither here nor there.)
I didn’t leave the Superdome that night empty handed. I took home a RIOT t-shirt - branding me a high school virgin while still in the first grade - as well as a “Righteous Invasion of Truth” devotional to prepare me for battle in the harsh secular world with Bible verses and words of wisdom, because who better to give advice than one of the few men alive that pro wrestlers can look down on. Evangelicals always see life as a war; they just can’t get a boner unless things are as close to their glory years of The Crusades as possible. Carman, like many Christian musicians of that time, preached of a time when Christians in America would be persecuted and would have to be willing to die for their beliefs – the ultimate evangelical wet dream. This laid the groundwork for the solid ten-plus years of God-induced panic and fear to come, along with the hope of filling my guilt-hole with as many humiliating Christian Rock shows I could shove down my gullet.
On September 3, 2010 I was arrested for going 65 in a 55. And having an expired license. And calling one of the cops a “world class dingus.” Due to the upcoming Labor Day holiday I was forced to spend the weekend in the towns local lock-up. (The guards referred to it as “The Pussy Palace” and not in the 70’s porn way.) What follows are excerpts from my diary of that weekend.
September 3, 2010
First day in the big house today. I’m not gonna lie to ya, I don’t really know what all the complaining’s about. I mean, I’ve only been here a few hours and I’ve already got a sweet new outfit (Move over H & M – there’s a new king in town!) and a whole bed all to myself! I’ve never been to a summer camp due to my allergic reaction to pork n’ beans, but it can’t be much better than this! I haven’t gotten a chance to meet any of the fellas yet, but I’m really looking forward to it. They can’t call them inmates for nothin’! That’s a line I’m thinking about using as an icebreaker on the yard. I think it’s gonna be a hit!
There was one little hiccup in today’s proceedings. Apparently it’s very important that prison guards check you for something called “contraband.” I don’t know what that is, but I guess it’s under your ball sack. I didn’t have what they were looking for but needless to say they found my secret stash of Rollos. Nuts!
I’m starting to see what all the prison negativity is about. First off, the bathroom situation is completely unacceptable. Has no one here heard of poop privacy? Luckily my all-gouda diet has kept me from having to worry about things on the BM front. I’ve tried to make some jokes to break the awkwardness (“Don’t worry fellas, I’m a grower not a shower!”) but nobody seems to be in the mood to laugh. Except for this one guy who laughs all the time while rubbing his hands and staring at me, but that’s way more disconcerting than comforting. I should talk to him about that; sometimes people do things and don’t realize how unsettling they are. Like how I bite my toenails at parties. (I still think that’s a great way to “peacock” but I guess that’s neither hither nor thither.) And don’t even get me started on this whole shower situation! I haven’t been this uncomfortable since last Christmas when my cousin told me what scissoring was. They won’t even let me wear a bathing suit like I did in the gym showers or when I lost my virginity. What is this, a prison or something? (Laid that gem on the Crips today…I don’t think they got it.) One nice thing about the showers is it seems like it’s a great time for team building. I keep seeing guys getting together in these big circles jumping around and grunting. I don’t know what’s going on but there seems to be a lot of screaming for the Lord. Who knew prison could be such a spiritual experience!
September 4, 2010
Finally found a gang! I thought I was gonna get stuck with the lame old White Power guys, but I really didn’t want to have to shave my head. I gotta keep these golden locks for the ladies! Anyway, I found a really rad group of guys. They’re called MS 13, “The World’s Most Dangerous Gang.” I don’t really get what makes them so dangerous; they seem as soft as a big ol’ pile of TP to me. Tonight’s supposed to be my initiation. I just hope I don’t have to eat anything gross like a jism-covered cracker or lima beans. I hate lima beans.
September 5, 2010
Just finished my initiation. Good news, I didn’t have to felate or eat anything gross: I just got the shit kicked out of me! All in all I consider that a real win. Bruises go away but the taste of rice pudding lingers forever. I’ve never had friends before and I could feel us growing closer with each kick to my sternum/groin area. They’ve even got a kick-ass new nickname for me, “El Pollo Blanco.” I never learned Spanish (I was always more of a French man: Ma grand-mère est un morceau de sucre!) but I’m pretty sure it means I’m their new BFF!
I wish I had more to report but after my “baptism by boot” I’m forced to spend my time in the old prison hospital. And I thought having my own jumpsuit was awesome! I get a whole new bed and all the painkillers I can shove up my rectum! (I don’t know why all these prison folks are so obsessed with rectums. I guess I’ll have to ask Dr. Freud about that! LOL LOL LOL!!!) There’s even a TV in here that plays nothing but Blossom re-runs! “WHAT!?”
September 6, 2010
Got out of the hospital today - just in time to soak in my last day of prison/summer vacay. I’ve gotta say I’m really gonna miss this place. I just wish my new besties over at MS 13 would be a bit friendlier. Whenever I try to get them in for a kickball game they pull out a shiv and mime slashing my throat. I guess they must be big fans of pro wrestling superstar The Undertaker. I’d love to talk to them about it but the concussions has limited my vocabulary to the words “oongowa” and “chupacabra.” Maybe I can turn this mental defect into something marketable like that Rain Man gentleman or Howie Mandel.
Got let out of prison a whole day early thanks to my gang buddies. What did they do to help out you ask? They shived me! Much like God, “The World’s Most Dangerous Gang” works in mysterious ways. Now I get to ride out to freedom in the style that only a prison Ambulance can provide. Did you know that they spell Ambulance backwards so people can read what’s behind them in their rearview mirror? Guess what: it doesn’t work! I’m sure losing a lot of blood. I think I could use a nap. I haven’t been this pooped since the time I went to Toys R’ Us and KB Toys in the same afternoon! Man, isn’t life CRAZY!
 I’ve since learned that the correct catchphrase referenced is “WHOA!” My apologies to the reader. Once again I was on an incredible amount of pain killers at the time.
Last summer I made my annual trek off to my favorite event of the season: the biggest fan convention of the year for Bob Uecker, play-by-play announcer for your Milwauke Brewers and the announcer in the best movie made since Singin’ in the Rain, Major League. The trip took a hard turn when I arrived not at the convention, but at a religious cult commune. Shockingly, it didn’t seem all that different from conventions past. At first. The following is excerpts from my personal diary, recapping the events.
June 8, 2011
Got to the Bob Uecker convention today, and boy does it look like it’s gonna be the best! I’ve been to a lot of Ueck-fests in my time but this has all the makings to be the Ueckeriest of them all. Everybody else here seems super nice. They’re all smiling and wearing all sorts of sweet tunics and pants made out of burlap and yarn. When I ask them about it they say that once you’ve seen the light you realize that denim is just a prison keeping your bottom-soul from reaching the ultimate of freedoms. I don’t know what that has to do with Bob Uecker but holy fuck does it sound neat. I even met a real swell girl-lady. I know! Who am I, Don Juan or a more current lothario reference? Raef Fiennes, perhaps? He seems like he gets a lot of trim. Anyhoo, her names Esmerelda 18 (apparently all the girls here are named Esmerelda. What a coinky-dink!) and she’s super cool. She even agrees with me that the first couple seasons of Scrubs is funnier than people think! Holy gee, this is gonna be great!
June 16, 2011
Things have been pretty swell here at Ueckfest 11, but I’m not really sure when we’re gonna start Ueck-ing it up. Mostly I’ve been learning how to harvest wheat, making underpants out of various household items and spending my nights in the “Nightly Spirit Share Time. That’s when we all strip naked and offer our pain cells up to the Sky Judge. I guess Bob Uecker must’ve done something like that in Major League 3: Back to the Minors. I never saw that one. Anyway, things are going pretty well with Esmerelda 18, except whenever I try to make a move she tells me she has to meet Jeremiah, the leader of the convention, in the “Dark Room.” I guess that’s where they keep all the classic Uecker-belia. Also, everybody keeps talking about the coming of this the “Great One.” I guess he’s some sort of big deal, like Tom Berenger in Major League. I don’t really know about all that, but otherwise I love it here!
June 17th, 2011
Holy fuck the “Great One’s” fucking awesome! I never thought I could feel so complete inside! The anger spirits are flying out into the clouds of judgment and all I’ve got left are something called “taurons,” or beams of positive energy. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am living here and farming. I mean, I never thought I’d have such a great time shucking corn husks, but I also never thought I’d give out my parents credit card info for financing a monument to the “Great One,” but I’m totally doing that so I guess this must be fine too! I can’t wait till this convention’s over so I can tell all my friends about my transformation over into the world of enlightened wind. Of course that’s assuming I get out of here before the great cleansing when we all pass on into the afterlife of happy force. I hear it’s like a Lazer Tag but way more bitchin’. Woot! Woot!
July 13th, 2011
I’ve kind of forgotten why I came here in the first place, but I don’t really care, that’s how great it is! I’m in the best shape of my life; I’ve gone down three burlap sack sizes since getting here! Today was probably the most special day of all days: I finally got to go into the “Dark Room!” I don’t remember anything that happened but now I can’t get “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” out of my head and I burst into tears anytime someone says “potato salad” which happens way more than you’d expect; I mean, these people really love Ron White. I’m almost late for tonight’s loyalty test so I better get going. I hear we’re gonna kill bunny rabbits for Jeremiah! Swish!
P.S.: Esmerelda 18 update: She’s dead! Why do I always go for the ones who get sacrificed!
June 8th, 2011
Finally figured out what’s happening to me in the “Dark Room.” Oh good God. Oh God. Oh good and heavenly God. Sweet Jesus. What a doozy.
June 13th, 2011
Tonight’s the night I make my escape. I’d rather get gunned down in the corn fields than let my soul die even one more day on this plain of despair. I’m starting to think these people don’t even like Bob Uecker! I won’t go into detail here for fear of being discovered but I’ll just say that my plan is rather elaborate and it involves a shank I crafted out of a corn cob and stabbing lots of people. My only hope is that I die tonight, and it turns out I’m wrong, and there is a God, and I go to hell, and then I could finally be at peace. For I know one thing: hell would have to feel like heaven compared to this place.
June 14th, 2011
Made it out alive. I can finally taste the sweet dew of freedom and boy does it taste good! Like eating a whole bunch of Skittles at once. All I can hope for now is to move on from this place and live again. Maybe I’ll get a cat. That seems like a good move. I do know one thing, though: this has certainly been…One Crazy Summer!