LTE's Learning New Slang Words: JIMP, JIMPING, JIMPIEST, JIMPED...and JIMPER

LTE's Learning New Slang Words: JIMP, JIMPING, JIMPEST, JIMPED...and JIMPER

Welcome to today's new slang lesson:

We all (46% of us) know what ''Jizz'' means. So we won't go over that. Due to past coverage, it's a dead horse and we don't want to beat it, right? When one jizzes in one's own pants, it's a special occasion as most jizzing occurs extratrouserly. Jizzing in one's pants has been happening since the advent of pants, though it didn't start till well after after the advent of jizz. It's even had a song named after it.

Anyway, JIMP is an acronym for ''Jizz In My Pants''.

Helpful derivations:

JIMPing is the act of jizzing in one's pants but no longer a true acronym. Still, it is slang.

Jimpers are those who jizz in their pants.

Jimped is the past tense of jizzing in one's pants.

Jimpy is an adjective for that which inspires the feeling that one might jimp or causes actual jimping.

Jimping is the present tense or *while* one jizzes in one's pants.

Jimpiest is a person or thing most exemplifying the act of jizzing in one's own pants. This may be the trickiest as far as common usage. When attempting, use like: ''That picture of Cynthia Rothrock is the jimpiest one of her ever! When she kicks like that, I just want to jimp! Hell, I think I just jimped it's so jimpy!''. or ''This chocolate is so good it's almost jimpy!'' if you're one of those chocolate fetishists. Also, to an attractive person ''You're so jimpy tonight, baby!'' Now you know. You're welcome.


This edition of LTE's 'Learning New Slang Words' is brought to you by: AGM's Star Wars Christmas Collectible Figurines. Now introducing 80's Vader - Corey Hart edition! He has the helmet off but he's got some wicked nighttime sunglasses on!

LTE's Life Advice: Mental/Buttockal Disharmony

So, you've freed your mind. But, alas, your ass did not follow. It's alright. It's nothing to be ashamed of. If the first attempt always worked, Donny Osmond could've starred in Super Fly. Dig? The point is, you likely freed your mind without making way for your ass. So, what happened? Your mind was freed and your ass had nowhere to go. It stayed put. You gave it no choice. Now, with this newfound understanding, go ahead and try it again. You and the Captain, can make it happen. Peace.

Example of a properly freed ass:

This edition of LTE'S Life Advice is brought to you by: Superfreak Rubbers. That's Superfreak Rubbers-'Cause you can't hit shit like that with a regular condom and expect to stay healthy.

LTE's Never Before Released Online Greeting Cards: For Roommates

---Please, send this web page to roommates you've done this to. Don't let another day go by without just saying you're sorry.---

This edition of LTE's Never Before Released Online Greeting Cards is brought to you by: Hayward Jablomi's Flying Nut Wormer. For when YOU need it and NOT because Fox News has been trying to scare you into it.

LTE's Badly Drawn Thoughts: Vol. 1

This edition of LTE's Badly Drawn Thoughts was brought to you by: That crazy street preacher in front of your office building. Remember: If it weren't for him, you would totally not know he was Jesus or that Meth was sacred.

LTE's Inflammatory Statements: Shallow

~ Nicole

LTE's Inflammatory Statements: Shallow

We submit that Naomi Watts, less popular of BFF Aussie combo Kidman/Watts (Wattkid), is actually hotter than Nicole Kidman.

~Naomi

This edition of LTE's Inflammatory Statements is brought to you by: Wattkid's BFF erotic Vegemite paste. That's Wattkid's BFF erotic Vegemite paste: Proving for over 4 years that anything can be sexy.

LTE's Thought For The Day: On Masculinity

LTE's Thought For The Day:

Real men enjoy pooping.


This edition of LTE's Thought For The Day is brought to you by Martha Stewart('s former assistant's) 1,001 thread count penis cozies: 1,001 thread count penis cozies: Because Thread Count Matters and we know that better than that square bitch who fired me for my Gothic fashion sensibilities even though I kick major ass at my job!

LTE's 'Learning New Slang Words': Learn The Definition of 'Elmo Milk' the EASY way!

LTE's 'Learning New Slang Words': Learn The Definition of 'Elmo Milk' the EASY way!


Main Entry: Elmo Milk
Function: Noun, verb, plumbing
Etymology: Elmo Milk is composed of two words.

Elmo: A red, fuzzy creature with a low IQ but a renowned social empathy. Elmos are a race of creatures from the lost Canadian Province known as Abootia. They became extinct before Abootia was abandoned in 1740.

*Elmo, the popular Sesame Street character was named after the red pygmy Elmo sloth ape which was hunted to extinction by German immigrants in Canada. The meat was said to feed thousands of immigrants and taste like chicken with paprika. Some were kept as pets but usually died trying to pet local grizzly bears.

Milk: a fluid which is secreted by the mammary glands of females for the nourishment of their young or a fluid which is white in appearance or a sickly greyish white but super sticky as well as protein-based.

The term 'Elmo Milk' was first used by rapper, Skullface Killer4Life in a song called ''Ima jack you up den jack off, bee-atch.), when he said '' Yo. Ima rip into your (Censored) when you see me (censored) like a (censored) for your (censored). Talkin' 'bout Elmo Milk like a thug cuz you ain't got a (Censored) for the mug and I ain't gonna (Censored) up a (Censored) for no (censored) when I Elmo Milk it like it's a drug. Step offffffffffff!!!!''

Shortly after this song was popularized on a very special episode of Friends where Joey and Chandler learn how to crunk on the street like it's their birthday, it was added to the Merriam-Webster dictionary. Oddly, it was only recently that it was added to the Urban Dictionary.

Strangely, neither Merriam-Webster nor Urban Dictionary have really nailed down exactly what it means. Then again, Skullface Killer4Life was known to make up words with vague or non-existent meanings which were never fully understood. He now lives in an asylum for the criminally Jermaine; An asylum for insane criminals who pathologically dress like Jermaine Jackson of The Jackson 5. Anyway, we're sure there's some freaky sexual connotation to the word and that it has to involve seminal fluid. We're really not sure about the Elmo part. That's just wrong,...as far as we're concerned. Use it however you want, anyway.

This edition of LTE's ''Learning New Slang Words'' is brought to you by Melson's Zucchini-Man Condoms. Condoms that say they are extra large but are really built for the average sized man (according to 1994 AMA statistics). That's Melson's Zucchini-Man Condoms: What average men buy when they want to feel like Zucchini-Men.

LTE's ''Feel Better, Loser'', volume 1: Winter Hygiene

LTE's ''Feel Better, Loser'', volume 1: Winter Hygiene


Dear Reader,


We just wanted you to know that it's okay. You don't have to shower or bathe all winter. You may feel ashamed for not cleaning yourself because it feels too cold. You may feel like a spoiled little sissy. A wuss. A complete asshole. A dirty, filthy, smelly, old, crusty asshole.

... Well, feel better, Loser. Colder air is cleaner and will get you less dirty than warmer air. Also, the amount of your sweat will be insignificant as long as you cover yourself with deodorant and other scents of cologne or perfume and baby powder. You barely sweat when it's cold. anyway!

If you choose to not bathe or shower or even take a ''whore's bath''. it's simply not an issue. It doesn't matter if it's less during the winter, or not at all during the winter. No one will be the wiser and you'll be healthier than all those other clowns who catch colds from soaking themselves, while there is a chill in the air- EVERY DAY! You'll be healthier and immune to colds.

Lastly, many, many other people stop exposing themselves to water altogether because they're averse to the cold. They don't drink water, they don't wash their hands, they don't shower. Some of them rich and successful. And, some of them are members of the military and the WWE. So, believe us, you're no sissy. There is no shame in skipping the soap, shampoo and water because you are averse to the cold. It'll be fine! Cheer up! You're not a disgusting jerk with no regard for the awkwardness you inflict on others! You're normal, well-adjusted and super cool!

Sincerely Yours,
The staff of LTE


This edition of LTE's ''Feel Better, Loser'' is brought to you by The Simpsons Movie-Because watching it six times a day in syndication is almost like stealing! The Simpsons Movie: You don't want to be a thief, do you?

Microwave ovens were not invented by nazis

Microwave ovens were not invented by nazis:

Sammy Bullshit, our resident fact checker at LTE has been taking questions for us and chosen to answer the following for this week's query:

''Dear Sam,

I heard the Nazi's invented the microwave oven back when there was a war with em. Is that true?

Regards,
Jimmy the Gherkin''

Sammy writes:

''Dear Jimmy,

I sincerely hope your mother's doing better and want to offer my condolences for your brother Sal. Sure is a shame. Ironic-like, I hear he never liked fish or swimming...

With regards to your question- the German people did not invent the microwave back when they were nazis. Honest. I have it on good authority that it was Saul E. Microwavenberg from Brooklyn, back in 1971. I know because he's my massage therapist's second cousin.

See, a lot of people think they called it a microwave because it cooked stuff by ''microwaving'' it. But, this is pure bullshit, my friend. That was all just a coincidence with his name. So, the name really works on two levels but you have my word that if it had cooked things using some other kind of wave like a macro one, he'd still have called it a microwave, out of ego. I hope that answers your question.

PS: Don't forget about that thing. I made sure to talk to the guy about it. Don't disappoint me, my friend...Again, condolences about your brother.''


This week's question was brought to you by Lowbrid cars: Because, hey, who wants to be all self righteous with those new-agey ones?

LTE Fan Mail: Vivica A. Fox Sex Tape Real or Fake?: By Matt

LTE Fan Mail: Vivica A. Fox Sex Tape Real or Fake?: By Matt

Hi all. This is Matt-editor, contributor, moderator and emperor of LTE. Welcome to our first fan mail post of LTE. This is where I'll be printing our fan mail out and attempting to answer each item within the post. Of course, the reason is because we get each of these questions or comments so much that it would save us all time and trouble if I answered them just once, in this post. Here is some of our fan mail and we would add, thanks for taking the time to you special, special people.

''...And, another thing. Why don't you ever write anything funny?''

~ Jan in Texas, USA.

''Hey guys. yall R funny bout things like farts and wiener jokes. I like that I guess.''

~ Mike in San Francisco, California, USA

''I like to roll a dooooooooooooooooooooooooooooobyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!''

~ Anonymous

''Obarma's a terrorist! Stop making fun of McCain with that fake butt plug ad! BITCHES!''

~Faith in Chuckwold, MO, USA

''I want more videos fro you tube and stuff. I don't like reading much. Thanks''

~ Jimbone in America

''Yo, did you see that sex tap with Vivica A. Fox going down on that guy? Why don't you do something about that? That tape was way too short!''

~John, Cincinnati, Ohio, USA

''You guys suck a (censored) and (censored) in the (censored) while you (censored) your own dogs!''

~ Sally in Wisconsin, USA

''Can you do a post about the kinda farts that smell like turkey after thanksgiving? That would be pretty funny.''

~ Roveywade, New York, New York, USA

''Whats the name of that one that you did?''

~ Jeff

''Dear LTE,

I want to thank you for this opportunity to voice my opinion. I worked in the dairy industry for well nigh thirty years. We have never and will never do that to the milk or the cows. You are liberal propagandists and elitist mudslingers and God will have his vengeance in this life or the next. You are going to be raped by the scepter of Jesus for your diseased, wickedness. I hope you get your unholy testicles stomped on by an angel's foot, you no-good so and sos. Stop your wickedness before the rapture.

Sincerely yours,

Bev from Fundyland, Montana, USA''

~ Bev in Fundyland, Montana, USA

Thanks to everyone for writing and giving permission to print your well-chosen words on our humble little site.

To Jan:

Because, Jan. If we start writing funny things now, you'll start expecting it. This will create much unneeded pressure on our staff.

To Mike:

Mike, thanks for the compliment. If we try to do anything it's make wiener and fart jokes more common.

To Anonymous:

We do not legally encourage nor morally discourage your dooby rolling. Thank you for your commitment to activism, though.

To Faith:

I do not know of an Obarma but I'll be happy to look into that for the purposes of national security. The fact that we advertise McCain butt plugs is really just a weird campaign-time coincidence. The company is not owned by Senator John Mehoff McCain, to our knowledge.

To Jimbone:

Jimmy, we'll certainly try to get more videos from youtube Fanatic on here, so you don't have to read stuff. The problem is that he's very busy hanging out with Anonymous and doing...other stuff.

To John:

Yes, I saw that sex tape for free over at Wikisextape.com and it was unGodly short but that was actually a fake. It was not Vivica A. Fox. She was good though and she should be applauded. I just can't think of anything funny about it, however. Thanks for the request. Sorry we cannot fulfill it.

To Sally:

I can assure you that none of us have ever done that with a dog unless you mean dog as a slang term for an ugly human. In which case, we've all done that and most of us have done that together in groups. We swing.

To Rovey:

I've never had the good fortune of doing that but I suppose around Thanksgiving, we could do a little something about it.

To Jeff:

It was called 'The Hidden Dangers of ADD' and we're glad you were thinking about it.

Lastly, To Bev: Sorry about the sinning. My father was Catholic and Stream of Consciousness Eddie's whole family was also. As for the rest of us, there's no excuse. They're just weak.

This edition of LTE Fan Mail has been brought to you by: McCain's Maverick Butt Plugs. Butt Plugs that stay the course, never pull out and drill for oil when prompted. That's McCain's Maverick Butt Plugs: The most Mavericky Butt Plugs brought to you legally, since 1843.

Excerpts from: Tales of The Gunfighter And The Prostitute And The Indian And The Law by Fairy Druderbaum

Excerpts from: Tales of The Gunfighter And The Prostitute And The Indian And The Law by Fairy Druderbaum

We hope you enjoy this advanced copy excerpt of the soon to arrive latest Wild West novel by acclaimed New York fashion designer, Fairy Druderbaum. The following is printed with permission. All Rights Reserved © 2008 Fairydru, Inc.

From chapter 13, page 13:

''The gunfighter and the Mexican in the yellow hat stood at the center of town. It was not yet high noon but just eleven something. The gunfighter stared at the Mexican in the yellow hat but saw no fear. ''Alright, boys. Let's make it clean. No bullets to the face or groin. Especially the groin. If one or both of you survive, I want some viable customers out of ya.'' said the prostitute. The gunfighter nodded, wondering what the prostitute's name was. The Mexican nodded but wondered why it wasn't clear he was more of a man's man. 'The big banana yellow hat with the black silk sash should have been a clear enough message.' he thought.

Everyone backed up. The gunfighter began to feel a strange anal itch. A tickling, itchiness that he did not like. He wondered if perhaps it was not a parasite poking its head out for air. After all, he did like his pork barely cooked. No matter... There was killing to be done. 'Oh! There it is again!' he thought. It was very distracting.

Staring at the Mexican's eyes wondering who would be able to draw first, he shifted his right butt cheek to try and quash the itch and if it was a parasite, maybe just squeeze its head back into the hole. Just then, the Mexican pulled his pistol with the pink diamond studded handle and fired before the gunfighter could finish his buttockal shift and BLAM!...''

Look for another excerpt from Fairy's novel, next week. It'll be out in time for Christmas shopping, in case you were worried.

This excerpt has been brought to you by Fairydru footy pajama add-ons. If your pajamas don't have the feet in 'em, then you can always ask Fairydru to help!

Anonymous Confessions, volume 2: The old man's troubles

Anonymous Confessions, volume 2: The old man's troubles

This monologue was recorded with a tape recorder in the basement of an anonymous old man and written down for publishing with permission. Names have been changed.


''Well, I ran into old Nelly Biggles at the church bake sale today. Bought some, uh, nut butter crispies, there. Won't be able to chew 'em up too good less I dip 'em in my coffee. That's the way I like 'em. . .You like cookies? Here. Have one. You probably got yourself your original good teeth. Oh, old Nelly Biggles. . . Boy was she a piece O' tail back in the day. Breasts so perky her nipples would get hard enough to cut glass, like the diamonds do. Bottom so squeezable it was like a firm, uh, uh, uh, thing, I suppose. Now, she's just a dried up old windbag for Jesus. Jesus this and Jesus that.

She didn't never used to talk no Jesus when she was talkin' 'bout sexin' and sinnin'. No, sir! Ah, well. Good times is gone now. No, why, she just looks like a slinky with eyes, now. Nobody wants her talkin' 'bout no sexin' anymore, that's for sure. But, she could talk 'bout Jesus a little less. The man was humble; wouldn't want to be the center of attention every dadblamed minute! ''EHHH, buy these nut butter crispies for the Lord!'' she says. Shut up, woman. You've got yourself a problem.

The Lord don't want no nothing from cookie sales. He's fine. You're the one who ain't fine. You probably still goin' ta Hell with all that sinnin' we did back up on old Bushmill Hill. Why even through the war, I never encountered such a slut. Was a great girl, then anyway. Ah, I'm not complainin'.

Now, why, I'm limper than a rubber noodle on a Tuesday dinner plate just tryin' to compete with the buttered ear of corn, if ya catch my drift. So, it's not like I'm runnin' her down for bein' older. No, I don't have the sex anymore. Truthfully, I'm glad I don't.

I stopped likin' sex around my eightieth, as it can go with a bad back and a bad hip...well, and a limp noodle, too...I suppose. Not much in it for me anymore. That's why I got a dog. Dogs don't want no sexin', just food.

Well, I suppose they is some dogs that are perverts and do want sexin' from people but then again, they is some people that is perverts who want the sexin' from dogs but I ain't talkin' 'bout those ones. No, I'm talkin' of normal dogs, you see. They is good, not perverts.

Why, I'm a normal, non-perverted man, myself. I don't want nothin' from my dog but somebody to talk to. Somebody that don't ramble on 'bout Jesus all the time.

Anyway, I guess that's my confession- That I'm all jelly in the under shorts and I used to get sinful with old man Biggles' daughter, Nelly and I only talk to my dog.

Just so we're clear, it's just talk, once again. Neither of us is perverts or nothin'. . . Okay, you boys better leave now. It's time for the Wheel of Fortune and I've got to take my fish oil or I won't be able to get my second movement in before I go to sleep.''

*This edition of Anonymous Confessions is brought to you by Johnson's Bottles.

Johnson's Bottles: Bottles for your Johnson.

LTE's Statistical Anomalies: Politics And The Internet

LTE would like to report that 83% of McCain supporters used Internet Explorer to dig up dirt on Obama, while 91% of Obama supporters used Firefox to dig up dirt on McCain. That's Firefox: 312, Internet Explorer: 6. We'll keep you updated on any further changes in score in the oncoming weeks.

This edition of LTE's Statistical Anomalies is brought to you by: Soyhug's organic vegan soy gravy. That's Soyhug organic vegan soy gravy - because cow flatulence causes hurricanes and if you pinch your nose it almost tastes like real gravy, sort of. Mmmm. Have you had your Soyhug organic vegan soy gravy today?

Soyhug's products are not responsible for the environmental conditions of Earth or any other planet, or genetic mutation in fish or humans.

Anonymous Confessions: Volume 1

Anonymous Confessions: Volume 1

Sometime after purchasing a 'members only' jacket at a garage sale, I converted to an alternative lifestyle. It was after I was accosted by a man outside the local Wal-Mart. He said '' 'Members Only' jackets are for queers, MARY!'' and walked on. Though I'd never thought of the intimate company of another man before, I immediately knew that I was in fact one of those said queers. A Mary, as the case may be. Gayer than Liberace's left nut.

The man who had accosted me was unlocking his car door when I ran up to him and grabbed his arm. Spinning him around to face me, I yelled ''Only those afraid of their own desires feel the need to make random observations about others' sexuality with a negative connotation, Homo!''. A brawl ensued.

We're now considered a legitimate married couple in Macedonia. It's been nine years. Last Tuesday, while watching an old movie from the eighties, I saw Emilio Estevez was wearing the same jacket I had been so long ago-my ''coming out'' jacket. He was making out with a lovely young lady. It was then I realized, the last phase of my life had been a lie.

Because, if Emilio Estevez was wearing a Members Only jacket, I knew not only gay men wore them. In fact, those permeating with masculinity and man-on-woman sex mojo must be able to wear those jackets if Emilio Estevez ever did! I then realized that all those times I have been rollicking down the Hershey highway, I wasn't even turned on.

I wasn't gay! Steve was wrong all those years ago. I was wrong for even considering his supposition. I don't have the balls or the heart to tell Steve, though. So, I'm just going to keep gaying it up with him, living straight in my mind, in secret. We're going antiquing tomorrow, then to a Coldplay concert. ...Damn it.


This anonymous confession has been brought to you by: McCain's Maverick Butt Plugs. Butt Plugs that stay the course, never pull out and drill for oil when prompted.

Who won the 2008 elections?: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie

Yes, I can. . . I'm a maverick, too.

Who won the 2008 elections?: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie


Everyone will be asking who won the 2008 elections, soon. I say, either way, I will still be masturbating to Sarah Palin for at least the next four years. Now, I know some people will have a problem with that. Feminists mostly, thinking that I am sexually objectifying her because of her womanhood. Really? Well, maybe you'll be surprised to know that I will also be equally masturbating to Joe Biden for the next four years, win, lose or draw. Ha! How do you like that? Think I'm not down with feminism? Well, what the Hell do you know?

It should be mentioned that I'll only be masturbating to Joe Biden to be equal. I won't enjoy it at all. I probably won't be able to climax without thinking of him WITH a partner. That's where my Masturbation Fantasy Supplemental Plan strategy comes in. When I watch porn, it's usually man on woman. So, nothing new. You know. Basically, my strategy, even though I can rarely stick to a masturbation fantasy strategy because of my ADD, is to picture Biden having sex with Palin. See, that way it's equal time. Equal sexual objectification. Well, not objectification. Sexual non-discrimination. See? Now, I'm not saying my Masturbation Fantasy Supplemental plan (MFSP) won't ever need to be reformed.

I don't want it to be divisive or what have you. It may need tweaked. There may be external male climax. I might get there and feel like internal male climax is best and external climax is sexist. I don't know. We'll have to see. Run the numbers. Crunch them. Consult the experts. Create a panel of advisory personnel, perhaps. Biden may be on top, Palin may be on top. They may both be in a seated position. There may be slides, trampolines and Velcro. I guarantee that to the best of my ability, nobody will have the upper hand. Palin may wear a strap-on. Again, it won't be anti-feminist. She could be doing the penetrating. How feminist is that? Pretty damn, would be the answer, there. Pretty...Damn.

There will be foreplay. Biden will not objectify Sarah's upper chestial area. Sarah will not squeeze Biden's scrotum in a militant way, either. There may be cupping. Sure, cupping, light rubbing but no squeezing which would give her the upper hand. I couldn't be impartial if there were squeezing. Just the same, Sarah's chest will not be squeezed but only subjected to rubbing and cupping like Biden's testes. Perhaps slight smooshing. No, no, smooshing would be wrong. That would be sexist. I wouldn't have her smooshing Biden's testes, so Biden can't be smooshing her anywhere either. I see that now. The point is, that no matter who wins, I am devoted to these Vice Presidential candidates being masturbated to without bigotry or prejudice towards either. That's my pledge to you, the American people. I'm Stream-of-Consiousness Eddie and I approve this masturbatory message.

This message is paid for by the female committee to get Eddie to masturbate with more frequency and fairness (FCTGETMWMFAF)

Not that I'm interested in fruity sex, but...: by Stream of Consciousness Eddie

Not that I'm interested in fruity sex, but...: by Stream of Consciousness Eddie

I was bored at work during my lunch break and attempting to cut the peel off of an orange in one unbroken peeling. I got about an inch down on the orange and there lay a revelation. I saw the baldness of that hole on top of the orange, peeling shaved off like it had a fruity Brazilian wax (Yeah, I'm not sure if that quite fits either). Staring down on this orange hole, I couldn't help but think that it looked a lot like Ava Devine's anus. Now, if you've never seen Ava Devine's anus, (formerly Ava Divine) than I suggest you Google it. Google it hard. Actually, Google it slow and steady if you get the invite. It's one of the most attractive of the anuses on film. So, anyway, I'm not into RJs (If you know what it stands for, go wash your mouth out with soap immediately...then, go to jail. Go directly to jail...Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars, etc...).

So, although I am certainly not into RJs (No more requests, thanks), I was hungry for oranges. I wanted this orange in my belly and there's only one way to do that properly. This miraculous anal/fruital Doppelganger effect left me undeterred... I ate the hell out of that orange hole. I ate that orange hole like I was R. Kelly on a fruitarian bender. Besides, if you've got to eat an orange hole, one that bears a resemblance to Ava Devine's chocolate starfish is certainly the best orange hole that you can eat.

*Interesting fact: Many candies mix orange and chocolate flavors together because it is pleasing to standard human palates. Coincidence? Not really. I just thought I'd mention it.

Disbo and the Shirts: Military humor by Fitzgerald

LTE: Hi, guys. Today, we have our second guest post. This one is from Fitzgerald at: Fitz Blog of Comedy
Fitz also has several other blogs which you can check out on his Blog Catalog page, including his Blues music blog and his modern parenting blog. See them here: Fitzgerald's many blogs

He's a master blogger, if you will. He's also a retired Navy man. He submitted this story to us from his Navy days and we hope you enjoy it and go visit his blog(s). Thanks, Fitz.

Fitzgerald writes:

'' Disbo and the Shirts

When I was in the Navy we often told stories called sea stories. Do you know what the difference between a sea story and a fairy tale is? Well a sea story begins with "Back on my old boat" and a fairy tale begins with "Once upon a time."

Back on my old boat, the USS Valley Forge (CG 50), (yes it was kind of like being with President George Washington back in the colonial days. That is how tough it was.) I had a friend and fellow officer who because of his height, general body size, demeanor and race, was often confused with me. I was the Damage Control Assistance and he was the ships dispersing officer, we called him the Disbo.

He was also in charge of the ships laundry and this caused some tension between us. His men would laundry my shirts and invariably ruin them. They were washing my shirts with ink pens, which caused black stains all up and down the front of my Khaki shirts.

This happened about three or four times, and I would complain to the Disbo. He would tell his men to be more careful and then it would happen again. I was spending a small fortune buying new shirts.

So one day I show up at the stateroom that we shared, and what do I find. Freshly ruined shirts from the ships laundry. Well I am about to blow my stack when I realize that these shirts are not mine but are the Disbo's shirts and his men have confused him with me this time.

So I wait for the Disbo to show up in our state room and when he walks through the door I show him the offending shirts. He goes into full apology mode and begins to explain how easy it is to make this mistake and how other officers are leaving ink pens in their shirt pockets and how he will remind his men to be more careful again. He apologizes as he has done in the past and gives me the general look of I hope you understand.

I graciously accept his apology and then point out to him, that these shirts are not mine, but are in fact his. And that his men down in the laundry have confused the two of us. I go on mocking him, by repeating his explanation and apology.

The look on his face was priceless, he storms out of the stateroom and goes down to the ships laundry. By some stroke of magic, or luck, the ships laundry never destroyed another one of my shirts. It is funny how that all worked out.''

Stream of Consciousness Eddie's thought for the day: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie

Stream of Consciousness Eddie's thought for the day: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie

The reason why canine flatulence is so terrible is that you don't know it's coming. At least when you do it personally, you can feel it coming and have a sec to brace yourself properly most of the time.

PS: I've been working on some poetry since some people liked my sexual haiku. What do you think of this: ''Dog gas . . . comes from Dog ass. . . I am the walrus.'' That's pretty good, isn't it? I mean, I don't think it's technically stealing from The Beatles. Mostly because I plan on pronouncing it Wal-RASS, just to make it rhyme. Well, you think about it and drop me a line when you've thought it through.

Verified Facts Americans & Canadians Should Know:

Ladies and gentleman, there is a threat to American homes that has never been more prevalent or dangerous. A threat so big and so potentially alarming to the public that most news programs refuse to cover it. A threat that could have you as John or Jane Q. Public running for the hills. It's invaded many American homes and a few Canadian ones already.

Why isn't this issue taken seriously? Why aren't these threatening figures out there being reported by CNN or WKRP? Because they've been made to look like benign factors by the very misinformed Michael Keaton movie known as Multiplicity. The threat I'm talking about is of course, clones. Clones are not nice life-helpers or neat conversation pieces. You can't take your clone out on a double date or order them to mow your lawn. The fact of the matter is that you can't live with your clone at all. But, they don't tell you this.

*Fact: Clones immediately kill whoever they're cloned from, if and when the opportunity presents itself.

*Fact: Your clone will pretend to be you and refuse to ever come clean about being your clone once they've disposed of your body and taken over your life.

*Fact: You can't know a clone when you see one. You might be living with one as we speak. It might have killed and chosen to impersonate your wife, husband, roommate, Uncle, Grandmother, child, nanny or that young Norwegian art student who rents out your attic.

*Fact: Clones eat kittens for fuel. You'll never know because there will be no remains. They eat their cute kitten ears and their tiny kitten paws and their scrawny kitten tails. They do so indiscriminately, with no regard whatsoever to whether or not the kitten deserves it and they don't care if it's a family pet. Clones need to eat and they have a very strong instinct for self preservation.

*Fact: Clones purposefully spit in your food. If you allow a clone to make you a sandwich or cook Sunday dinner, there will be clone loogy hawked all over it.

*Fact: Clone loogy isn't like normal human loogy. It's highly acidic and will give you heartburn. If you've ingested enough clone loogy, you will develop ulcerative colitis.

*Fact: Clones are racist. Whatever race a clone is will be the only race they like. *The exception to this rule is a multiracial clone. They tend to not be racist but they are usually communists.

*Fact: Clones are predisposed to follow Scientology. They won't say anything about it but they'll never miss a John Travolta or Tom Cruise movie. Given enough time, all clones will be able to recite all the dialogue in Battlefield Earth and Jerry Maguire. No one knows why but many conspiracy theories have been offered by Richard Belzer.

*Fact: Clones are not exact replicas of the person they are cloned from. In fact, clones are smarter, stronger and have more pronounced genitalia than their predecessors.

*Fact: Clones are evil. They will not use their intellect, strength or enhanced sex characteristics for the forces of good. Only to eat kittens, watch John Travolta movies and spit in your food.

Now that you are aware of the danger of clones, please be careful. When a clone is found out, they become extremely homicidal and sometimes explode, engulfing you in flame. For more information on buying a home clone detector for just $19.95 or, roughly the cost of one cup of coffee on the way to work, please call 1-800-AcidLoogyBad or go to Amazon.com.

The true origin of the song 'Everybody's got something to hide except me and my monkey

The true origin of the song 'Everybody's got something to hide except me and my monkey':

Elbert P. Munkee was the head chemist and researcher studying semisynthetic psychedelic drugs in the ergoline family when he discovered what he called ''The ultimate truth, no longer to be hidden from the human mind.''. This drug was called Lysergic acid diethylamide or LSD. Now it is known mostly as 'Acid' in street slang. LSD became a vice and a cause for Elbert. Doctor Munkee, a chemist, psychologist and trippicist, openly took the drug and promoted it to fellow people from Amsterdam. He claimed that they should stay off of Marijuana and other street drugs because they weren't ''laboratory tested or doctor approved.'' like his precious LSD was at that time and in that particular vicinity. It should be noted that the only doctor who approved of it was Munkee himself. Elbert would take the drug and go on hours-long ''confession sessions'' where he would air out all of his questionable actions and somewhat amoral fantasies.

He became a cult leader and led numerous Amsterdamian youths and hobos into using his dangerous 'truth medicine', as he called it. ''You'll have nothing to hide with modern science's all-purpose truth medicine.'' he was quoted as saying in a sermon to his flock, just before trying to fly on an invisible pelican's back and falling off of his kitchen table. Around this time, the popular band known as The Beatles, from Britain, had toured through Amsterdam and been confronted by a very high Doctor Munkee. Munkee converted the band into users of LSD, resulting in numerous songs being written. Many of the songs were never published like ''Owoohadoobah hahaha!'' and 'On the sand, riding a crab taxi' which was penned by Ringo. Munkee's preaching of LSD as well as the band witnessing several ''confession sessions'' inspired John to write a tongue in cheek ditty called 'Everybody's got something to hide except me and my monkey'. Of course, monkey and Munkee are pronounced the same and no one would ever know.

That is, until Doctor Munkee finally passed away a few years ago in an insane asylum located by an Amsterdam brothel where he spent years after his cult followers lost interest and became wine drinking, yuppie businesspeople in charge of a line of disposable hemp underwear products. Once Munkee passed away, his lawyer released video footage of him with the band which showed John playing the song for him and telling him he'd written it about the good doctor. That solved the mystery once and for all about the meaning and origin of the song.

*Interesting note: Doctor Robert Freymann and Doctor Munkee were bitter enemies, oddly enough. The band actually attempted to bring them and their methods together in friendship and harmony by recording a mix that combined both Doctor Robert and Everybody's got something to hide except me and my monkey and adding the line ''We can work it out.'' over and over in the background. It didn't work. They always hated each other, bitterly.

The Traffic of Your Twitter: A Graphic Sexual Haiku: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie

The Traffic of Your Twitter: A Graphic Sexual Haiku: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie






The sun shines - when I Google your Twitter.
The sun shines - when you Yahoo my web log.
It is storming - when I ping all over your Twitter.
I have an umbrella - to shield you from the storm.

A cloud disappears - when I Google your Twitter
But - alas - your Twitter has too much traffic.
Slut.

*Okay, so maybe that doesn't technically classify as a Haiku but that bitch broke my heart, man. She had an amazing Twitter. Ladies, don't go off getting a bunch of traffic with your Twitter. It's not right when you've got a steady guy who's crazy about Googling your Twitter and you clearly enjoy Yahooing his web log until he Pings like a mutha. Anyway, I think I've made my point and done it in a classy, artsy-fartsy, high brow type of manner at that.

Nancy Grace has a weapon, and in other news: Sean Paul Rocks out with THOTH!: By Youtube Fanatic

1. It seems like I never watch television anymore because I watch everything online. I'd rather just see the freak-worthy 3 minute clips of a crappy show like America's Got Talent than watch a whole damned episode of mind numbing ''entertainment''. Okay, that's a lie. The whole thing is a freak show, I take it back. It's all worth watching. I love you AGT! Sharon! Sharon! Oh-okay, I think I just dribbled a little bit. Anyway, my first pick of must-see youtube video clips is...drum roll, please... S. K. THOTH! What? Did I have a stroke or did you hear that right? Yeahhhh, you heard that right. His real name is not Thoth...it's Stephen Kaufman. I think that's why he has the S. K. in front of the name of an ancient Egyptian deity's name. Just saying ''Thoth'' might make you slobber on whoever you're talking to, so this may just be part of a prank he's pulling on the world. Anyway, Thoth, has a web site where he says he ''heals through divine prayformance''. Is 'prayformance' a word? No. It's a word he made up combining prayer and performance. Hey, at least he's not full of himself. So, Thoth took his act to America's Got Talent and proved that...no, we don't have talent. Here's my first youtube video pick:

If the embed code becomes mercilessly unavailable, click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ke93vH1eEw




2. Oh, Nancy Grace. The beloved sweetheart of CNN and Court TV. Legal commentator and warm, welcoming television host. Seriously, if there was ever a woman who looked like she would stab you directly in the heart with a Ginsu knife while she's having sex with you, it's Nancy Grace. The woman can burn holes in you with the beams of laser-like fury that shoot out of her eyes. She's like that evil super-chick from the second Superman movie only not so much of a looker. I still have dreams about that super-chick. What the hell was her name, anyway? It doesn't matter...my second youtube video pick is a blooper from Nancy Grace's show...whatever it's called, no one cares. Her poor underling, Clark Goldband sets himself up to be strangled and castrated after the show, no doubt. Enjoy:

If the embed code becomes mercilessly unavailable, click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WDvJB9JoyBU




3. And, finally, last but not least. My third pick for youtube video sensation is courtesy of youtube user Xikaze. I love misheard lyrics videos. However, usually they aren't...in English. But, thanks rap music! Jamaican rapper, Sean Paul gives the perfect ingredients for not knowing exactly what the crunk he's saying with the song 'Temperature'. Here is the brilliant misheard translation music video:

If the embed code becomes mercilessly unavailable, click here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfXke_z6t3I

The Hidden Dangers of ADD: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie:

The Hidden Dangers of ADD: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie:

I'll never forget that day. It will live on in infamy. I stood at the toilet bowl and my stream wasn't even particularly strong. Particularly for a Mountain Dew drinker. Anyway, that's whence it happened. The sensation that horrified me so. I could've sworn on my eyes that indeed somehow, through an amazing turn of circumstance and an improbable distance traveled...a wet spot no more than one millimeter from my lower lip appeared on the left corner of my mouth.

'No!' I thought. It's not possible! Certainly, these droplet spatters can occur on the shoes...the shins and knees when wearing shorts as well. But a splash-back all the way up to my mouth? No! It must have been a 'phantom sensation'. Or my brain misread a signal. It happens. You know how sometimes the cells get confused between hot and cold? Sometimes you think something is damp but it's really just cool, like a pillow? It happens. Surely, a hair tickled the corner of my mouth and my brain misinterpreted it to be wetness. Especially since I was peeing and thinking all wetly.

No, I was convinced that it was urine. Disgusting. I would, of course, wash that area when I went to wash my hands. Anyway, after I finished urinating, I got cramps. I would have to delay the soap and water, I knew, turning around and unbuckling my belt to drop anchor. Many things passed through my mind as I saw the cramps through and came out victorious in the end. I thought of things like why Ringo wasn't more respected as a Beatle, whether Woody Allen fans have never heard that he's a sex offender or if they have and just don't care because they think he's talented. Also, why my girlfriend carries a picture of her and Noah Wyle in her purse when I know it was originally me and her at the 1996 apple fair. Anyway, as you can see, my mind did not stay on the topic of the urine splash droplet that landed on my face.


By the time I got to the sink, I was on a new topic. Should I grow sideburns? It's been on my to-do list for a long time but I really hate that in-between period where you don't have sideburns but it is clear that you haven't shaved your whole face either. So, I only washed my hands and dried them on that towel I stole from Helen Hunt's house and left the bathroom aloof and happy. It was hours later that I was eating lunch. I remember that clearly. It was a club sandwich. Clearly, one from a lousy club. I could feel some hot sauce had dribbled down the corner of the left side of my mouth when my tongue shot out and mopped it up and OH SHIT! ACH! I remembered!

That is just one example of the hidden dangers of ADD...Urine-tongue.

Excerpts from the mystery novel, I Spy A Spy's Spy With A Spy's Eye: Part 2:

*This is an advanced excerpt printed with permission from the author for promotional purposes only and is not to be duplicated by any other source without express consent by the author, Sir Thanial-Bane P. Elmbleby. Get the full copy when the book is released in March. Enjoy the preview, mystery fans.




Chapter 25: The Fatal Mukluk

''Agent .002 stood atop the elevator with his hands trembling around the P08 Luger which he took from the old Nazi war criminal after the little miss Eskimo competition. Had anyone guessed who really funded that contest, it would have been a worldwide scandal. A worldwide scandal that would out the little miss Eskimo runner-up as a midget hooker from Amsterdam with a baby face and a poisonous dart that shoots out of her right mukluk.

He would stop this evil plot at any cost. Even if it meant confronting Svetlana Bluejeansky, his old nemesis and former lover. She wasn't going to get him this time. She wasn't going to help the man with the golden nostril infiltrate America's nightclub scene.

So it turned out that the man with the golden nostril, the man with the silver gonad and the man with the jeweled nipple were all the same man. And that man was trying to plant a Russian bomb directly inside Lyndsay Lohan's vagina.

Danger is the unheralded secret weapon of all KGB operatives and elderly Nazi war criminals. Especially the ones that masquerade as BBC journalists. This plot was even more evil then its sinister sister plot at the little miss Eskimo competition. The celebrity guest for that event? Lyndsay Lohan. She would undoubtedly fall victim to the masculine wiles of the man with the golden nostril. They would later make it to the night club scene and at some point . . . the Russian bomb would . . .''

Jake The Flake's Top Ten List Of Tiny 'Damn It' Moments: By Jake The Flake

Jake The Flake's Top Ten List Of Tiny 'Damn It' Moments: By Jake The Flake


What is a *tiny* 'damn it' moment? It's the kind where it won't piss you off for more than two seconds but it's just bad enough for you to mumble ''Damn it!'' under your breath in a whisper before you immediately forget about it and move on. These are my top ten right now:


1. When it's too dim for you and you go to turn the light on and realize the light's already on and it's still too dim for you! Damn it!

2. When you call someone you want to talk to and someone you don't want to talk to answers the phone. Granted, they don't want to talk to you either but when they answer it's just inconvenient enough for you to think 'Damn it!' before asking this lousy bum if the person you really want to talk to is available.

3. When you feel something that you think is a bug and it's just a hair that you KNOW will fool you again later.

4. When you think you're done defecating and just when you go to wipe, you realize you're not done. You have things to do! Let's get this shit over with! Literally!

5. When you're in the shower and the bar of soap starts falling apart and damn it, can't a person just wash their crotch without these kinds of obstacles, damn it?!!!.

6. When you're almost asleep and you know you have to pee or there will be consequences.

7. When you wake up from a sound sleep because your bladder is full and you're uncomfortable and there's a split second of annoyance before you contemplate getting up and say 'Damn it' just before losing consciousness again.

8. When you patiently wait for your morning coffee to be done and when you go out to get it, you realize you never turned the damn thing on, damn it!

9. When you patiently wait for your morning toast even though you think you've perfectly timed it to coincide with the preferred doneness of your eggs and you notice the toaster isn't plugged in and you only have yourself to blame, damn ya!

10. When you fast forward or rewind something on TV by just a vajingo hair too much and your nonstop stream of amusement is ever so slightly halted for a second, horrifyingly leaving your entertainment addicted brain in a frenzy of your own reality before Deal or No Deal is back where you want it and you can breathe again. Shwoo! For a second there you couldn't tune out that ugly, peeling wallpaper on the wall behind your TV set and that kid yelling in the background trying to get the family dog to sit still while he draws on his fur with permanent marker! Gees, that was a close one! Who wants to pay attention to that crap!

Still No Question of Eddie's Sexuality: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie

I was feeling embarrassed because I couldn't get a homosexual song out of my head this morning. It's called ''I kissed a girl'' by Katy Perry. Now, there's nothing wrong with homosexual songs. I got no beef with 'em. It's that well-I'm straight. So it felt wrong to be singing such a gay song in my head. I was embarrassed and that was my problem is what I'm saying. Anyway, after a while I realized it's not gay if I'M the one singing it. I'm a man. It's no more gay than when I'm the one watching lesbian porn. Female homosexuality is male heterosexuality. See? Crisis averted.

*Remember: Everything Katy Perry talks about in that song is perfectly heterosexual for a man to do except for having a boyfriend. Wait-well-Oh, yeah. I forgot, in the song she has a boyfriend. . . Damned! Okay, so it's still a little gay for me to sing this in my head. Whatever. It's really catchy.

LTE's Crazy Historical Facts: The origin of the saying ''When the shit hits the fan'' (and further variations)

LTE's Crazy Historical Facts: The origin of the saying ''When the shit hits the fan'' (and further variations)

The often uncredited inventor of one of the first working mechanical fans was Armenian engineer Eldar Zadian. Little did he know that his 1841 instrument would be the origin of the crass terms ''when the shit hits the fan'' and ''the shit's gonna hit the fan''. In the Armenian wars over the Dojekhstani border, General Portnoy Mintolbahn was known as ''Schitenstribolt'' or the shit-fanner.

General Mintolbahn was known primarily for a method of torture whereby he would utilize his fellow Armenian's mechanical fan and the manure collected from local peasant farms. The fan would run during interrogations, punishments, etc. When the torture was to be doled out, whether for more information or because the General suspected a lie or simply as a routine penalty, the feces of various animals, sometimes humans would be dropped onto the fan propelling the ''ammunition'' all over the victim.

It was not a torture for precision as others in the room were splattered by the feces which often had maggots. They wore protective garb, except for the General who would leave the room. The General stands as a fairly unique historical figure. It is said that he was born without a sense of smell and didn't mind the scent of dung. Regardless, a saying resulted from his actions. It came into minor use in Armenia around this time (First noted in 1846). Whenever there was trouble, the ''shit had hit the fan'' or would soon enough. It was a saying that started among General Mintolbahn's subordinates but rapidly spread through Armenia and greater Europe, translating into hundreds of languages and dialects.

Austrian historian and etymologist Arnold Schpreddim says that the saying was brought to America by (illegal) Austrian immigrants sometime in the roaring 1920's and though America crushed illegal immigration from Austria successfully with their ''No more'' policy, it was too late to keep a good saying down. Besides, if it weren't for the Austrians, we all know the Albanians, Swedish and of course Armenians immigrating into the states would have gotten the job done.


*Remember: The next time you use this phrase, you will know that a crap-load of Armenians once meant it literally.

Sources:
1. America's Sayings Didn't Just Happen! By Russell Sultrick
2. Chestnuts, Epigrams and Bears-Oh my! - an article issued in the Etymology Glue Magazine by Werner von Cruz.

Encyclopedia Brahumana: Constantine Flatus

Encyclopedia Brahumana:

Search Term: Flatus

Search Results: 1


1. Constantine Flatus: Famous soldier during the Greco-Roman war of 215 B.C.E.
Known for superior strategic maneuvers during wartime; even under crippling gastroenterological distress caused by the typical Mediterranean diet.

Chain Letters: Are They Real?

Certain members of LTE have been getting a freakish combination of chain letters and SPAM from ''foreign investors'' and such. We won't say who, but an anonymous member(s) of LTE started a chain letter just to prove that people are morons and will believe and send anything. We don't know if it will work. I personally feel that the human race would not propagate such tomfoolery. At any rate, this is what a certain member or members of LTE came up with:

With such enthusiastic and wise benefactors of Boahbo's holy word as spirited singer Kylie Minogue, film maker Werner Herzog and respected news anchor Gretchen Carlson we cannot fail:

Dear faithful or future servant,

This email contains the sacred written word of Boahbo = God. In 1993 it was placed in circulation by Aulburd Hukbart as a symbol of his sacred faith. You must send it to 8 people or suffer Boahbo's wrath. If you do not believe in Boahbo it is of no consequence to him only to yourselves. If you do not choose to spread the sacred word, it will come back to haunt you as it did Aaron Proiyeur of the French embassy in Toulon. As CNN documented in late 1997, he was given this email containing the Akluh En ta han or loosely translated ''Signature of faithful servitude'' and chose only to ignore it like so many other savages. As it was well documented, the very day that he deleted Boahbo's sacred words, he suffered from a ''mysterious heart defect'' which was not earlier detected and caused his death. Surely, only a savage could dismiss this.

If this were not enough, Andrea Sameson of Fairsley, Indiana received this email and was converted from her protestant Christian background with the touch of Boahbo's grace and purity. Trying to share his holy words as more in the western world do than you may imagine, she sent Akluh En ta han to her ailing mother to help her. Her mother, angered by what a savage would call blasphemy, deleted the message and called her daughter upset that she'd turned away from their family faith. Andrea and her mother bitterly argued over the phone for half an hour. Her mother would not accept the true holy words.

Within one week's time while driving to the local park, her nose began to bleed. The bleeding was uncontrollable and her sister said that she was dead within twenty minutes. Doctors blamed scar tissue from a surgery she'd had on a deviated septum more than fifteen years earlier. But we know that this cannot be. We know that Boahbo was not well pleased. Please pass the following words of Boahbo to 8 people or more and keep them to treasure and draw strength from. The more people you send it to, the more Boahbo's grace and purity shall touch your life.

I myself was living in crippling poverty on the streets of Toulon when I received the message and have made it my life's work to pass the message on to others ignorant of such power. Since doing this, I have become wealthy in riches and spirit. I have married a beautiful woman from Loire and we have seven children and many friends. I have my own business in electronics distribution and each day hold my left hand up to the holy word for five minutes and tell all that I can about it, helping the modern prophet Aulburd Hukbart spread the word of the fair Boahbo even while I sleep as I know my electronic messages travel the world as do his.

The word cannot be directly translated as per the faith but keeping it near is all that matters. If you can speak it in the original Toulane you would appreciate it all the more but it is not required.

Signed with peace and love, Boahbo's grace and purity to all,

Tinsdale Mijjarrifit

The sacred word:

''Akluh En ta han''/В мой последний день С Моей Обезьяной: Потоком Сознания Эдди От Ленивого Третьего поста Глаза:
Я надевал мое белое пальто лаборатории и таращу глаза и шел в комнату с клипбордом и крепкой ручкой. Я сел поперек стола от обезьяны, кто смотрел на меня солнечными, шутливыми глазами и pursed губами. Он еще не бросал вызов моей власти, и ясно, что я прохожу к нему. Я сажусь и говорю, что "Вы можете начать, Baldo." Его зовут Baldo, между прочим. Он решает поразить зеленую кнопку сначала.

The last part is a piece of one of Stream of Consciousness Eddie's posts translated into Russian with a free online translator. The names of the people involved are made up as well as the name Boahbo. Don't be so superstitious! However, if you know superstitious people who must send this letter, you might want to send them this, I'm sure it'll be worth a laugh. Maybe it will circulate around the globe many times and we'll be featured on snopes. Either way, I thought I'd share.

Sincerely with purity and grace,
Matt-moderator, editor and occasional contributor at LTE.

My Last Day With My Monkey: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie

It was the summer of 19 and 91. I was about to learn something about life and science that I could never UNlearn. As I showed the security guard my identification card, I couldn't help but sing ''Right Here, Right Now'' by Jesus Jones in my head. I hated that song but I couldn't stop no matter what I did. The security guard looked at me suspiciously...almost as if he knew that I was singing Jesus Jones in my head. I smiled at him, timidly if not apologetically. I stepped into the office where my colleagues awaited me. The experiments would never take place without me. They always said they needed me for the experiments although I had the utmost confidence in each of their abilities to take on the same tasks.

I put on my white lab coat and goggles and walked into the room with the clipboard and a sturdy pen. I sat down across the table from the monkey who looked at me with shiny, quizzical eyes and pursed lips. He was not yet challenging my authority and it is clear that I'm getting through to him. I sit down and say ''You may begin, Baldo.'' His name is Baldo, by the way. He decides to hit the green button first.

Following the psychological conditioning lessons to the letter, I begin my impression of Ralph Furley from Three's Company. Whenever he hits the red button, I turn around and moon him, ready to pull my pants up quickly, in case he gets any bright ideas. This goes on for a half an hour until Doctor Jabulli comes in and hands the monkey fifty dollars, telling him they will finish the tests on me and that he can go back to fixing the school's ventilation system. It was then that I realized, I may have been conducting these experiments under false pretenses.

I never again chose to work in the field of Primate Psychology Studies and every time I see Baldo come by with his tool box, I fight the urge to moon him and instead fixedly stare in disgust. To think, I fed sugar cubes to that little bastard and once even sang Jesus Jones for him.

A Medical Update That Could Save No One's Life: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie

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My doctor said it seems I don't really have ADD after all. It turns out it's much more likely that I'm too rude to pay attention if I'm bored. Go figure.
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...Did Van Damme really get an erection on Live TV? By Youtube Fanatic

Here are my three video picks today, enjoy:



Video #1. Jean-Claude Van Damme's penis supposedly works. Here he is getting an erection on Live television? Yeah, I don't know for sure either. Is he pretending? I can't tell but he does look rather embarrassed and I know he's not exactly a Deniro caliber actor. From what I understand, this is Jean-Claude on Brazilian television show, Domingo Legal. He hung out there for a while, dancing and playing around. The clip is of him first dancing with Sheila Mello, then with Gretchen, a Brazillian singer, actress and porn starlet. As you can see, this second woman he dances with on the video grinds like a ...like a grindy thing. This allegedly leads to turning the self appointed ''Muscles from Brussels'' on more than is considered publicly acceptable. Did he really get his Brussels Muscle worked into a frenzy? You tell me.

If embed code goes mercilessly unavailable, the address is: http://youtube.com/watch?v=6WrNErNxX1M




Video #2. The Internet favorite, We Are The World, the Japanese Karaoke version. These guys are clearly serious about their impersonations as they seem to be phonetically sounding out the lyrics. Though they did a great job, I laughed hard when they did the first We Are The World in America and I laughed A LOT HARDER when they did this one...though, once again, they did a great job. I have no doubt that if we tried to the same thing with their stars like Holi and Misia, it'd be pretty funny to them too. Let's be real. Okay, I had to Google ''Japanese pop singers'' so I could mention Holi and Misia.

If embed code goes mercilessly unavailable, the address is: http://youtube.com/watch?v=36w-CyqCO1A




Video# 3. Mr. T's 1980's teenage fashion show! Do I really need to say anything else about this one? Except for mentioning that it is exactly what I just said it is, I don't think I need to say anything else. It's just great on its own.

If embed code goes mercilessly unavailable, the address is: http://youtube.com/watch?v=1jfBGhWo760

Marie Osmond? What are you crazy? Of course I would!: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie

So, I'm watching Marie Osmond's commercial. She's the spokeswoman for Nutrisystem. When I saw this commercial, I just thought 'Oh, sweet mother of God and his brother Jim'. Youtube Fanatic was watching it with me and he says ''Would you?'' and I'm like...''What are you serious?''. Of course I would! I've got news for you, she's 48 years old and still hot. I would've when I was 12, I would've when I was 22 and I would now if given the slightest chance. Have you seen this Nutrisystem commercial? Have you seen it? Plus, Marie's always had those big, beautiful teeth. Man, I love a nice rack, of teeth. I would've become a dentist if I wasn't ...well, it wouldn't have worked out. You couldn't trust me around the nitrous oxide and because of the tooth fetish, I doubt you could trust me around the female patients either. Did you see Jake's fact about dental patients? Scary statistics. I'd hate to add to them. Plus, there's the ADD, I doubt I'd make it through any extra schooling with that. Not important. Anyway, what is important is that Marie is hot. She's hot now that she's lost weight and quite frankly when she got a little hefty...I still would have.


*Remember: More of someone to love is more, so it's good. Less of someone to love means what's there is all the more cherished due to it's increased ounce for ounce rarity. In short, it's all good. The more you know...

Signed,
Stream of Consciousness Eddie, the almost untrustworthy DDM

Just The Tip: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie

I told my girlfriend I just wanted to stick it in and get a little bit and she got all whiney and said no. I tried to get it in there anyway. She pulled it away real fast and snapped at me. ''No! Stoppit! It's too big and it's dirty!'' she says. I suggested that I just stick the tip part in. She wouldn't let me anywhere near it.

So, anyway, I didn't get to find out if the soup ladle from dinner would fit into the peanut butter jar. So it had some chili on it? That doesn't make it dirty, per say. So what if it looked too big to fit the scoop side into the jar? She wouldn't even let me stick the tip part of the handle in. That would've fit and it was clean. I had to get up and go get a clean spoon from the silverware drawer and come back. I missed part of Jimmy Kimmel's monologue. What's that about? I think I'm going to break up with her anyway. Way too uptight.


*Remember: The peanut butter jar isn't some kind of sacred, holy thing that needs to be sterile and handled with special care. Lighten up, a peanut butter jar is not a bajingo. It doesn't need special rules for what items you can and can't put in there.

Jake The Flake's Ten Fun Facts: By Jake The Flake

1. In 1976, country balladeer, Kris Kristofferson, played a gynecologist on an episode of Saturday Night Live, opposite Jane Curtin, who played his patient and date.

2. There is a heavyweight boxer named Gerald Nobles whose tough guy nickname is ''The Jedi''.

3. The Singer known as Engelbert Humperdinck legally changed his name TO Engelbert Humperdinck FROM Arnold George Dorsey, taking the new name directly from a famous German Composer.

4. Milton Berle, of all the famous men in show business, is reputed to have had an infamously gigantic penis to put all the rest to shame. Apparently, everyone who knew him was aware of this endowment, especially since he wasn't known to be shy about pulling it out as a conversation piece.

5. If Kitty Wells married Conway Twitty...it would actually be the first time on record that a living country singer married a deceased country singer.

6. 99% of all people cannot remember the last time they had sex in a chair, mostly because their dentist had already anesthetized them.

7. There is a tropical plant named Amorphophallus, from the ancient Greek words, amorphos (meaning without form or deformed) and phallos (meaning penis). Guess what the plant looks like?

8. Some people still fervently believe O. J. Simpson is innocent, despite the fact that he authored a book based on a ''hypothetical'' confession. Johnnie Cochran was that good.

9. The National Science Committee has determined that every time one sneezes, .001 micrograms of excrement are forced out the average person's rectum from the force. Not quite enough for the human eye to notice but more than enough to be disgusting.

10. Lastly on my list of fun facts; this actually happened:




*Remember: Only numbers 6 and 9 are made up. How F*cked up is that?

The Apple Of My Own Eye: By Stream Of Consciousness Eddie

So, last week my friend was telling me that pesticides have been linked to an increased risk of Parkinson's disease. He said, this is why it's best to eat organic produce or at least make sure I thoroughly wash my fruits and vegetables. So, I had this shiny, waxed, red apple from a fruit basket a few days later. I had just woken up and I was really hungry and I knew it would be a lot of trouble to wash it and get all the wax and junk off. Then I thought 'Screw Parkinson's. I'm Irish. We're survivors.'

Bring it on, Parkinson's.


*Remember: Real Irish people can eat Parkinson's for breakfast.

A Party At Helen Hunt's House: By Stream Of Consciousness Eddie

I was at a party at Helen Hunt's house. True story. It was a nice house. I liked her monogrammed towels. They were very soft. They were fancy Moroccan towels or something. You know, the kind only rich people have. Especially the kind rich people in show business have because their skin is all sensitive from the years of chemical exposure from the overly intensive make-up applications.

Anyway, I was in her bathroom and unless they had a security camera in there, nobody would be the wiser. She's rich, she can afford more than a few fancy-assed Moroccan goods. So, I took a towel. I stole it. I put it down my waistband and pant leg. I smuggled it out of there.

I started using it in my bathroom but it bothered me that it had her initials on it. Plus, I felt a little effeminate drying my face and hands on dandified, overly soft towels like that. So, you know, I started using it for other stuff. Less dignified stuff. I won't say what. She'll never know. She probably wonders here and there why her monogrammed towel got stolen. All her friends are rich, why do they need to steal?

I'm not a friend. I crashed that party, I wasn't invited and I'm not rich. I'm not proud of it but it's not the worst thing you can do. I just knew there'd be good food there. I was wrong though. It was just cucumber sandwiches and vegan type stuff. I got a really nice towel out of it though. I watch Helen's movies sometimes and if the character is likable, I'll be like ''I wish I hadn't stolen her towel but it's way too late to give it back now.''

*Remember: They can't do that much to you for stealing a towel or crashing a party unless you do something crazy. Just don't be crazy. Talk to people, lie and say you're in independent films or something that sounds show businesslike. Eat the cucumber sandwiches like they're good, be gracious and don't steal anything more significant than a monogrammed towel. Nobody'll care that much.

It's been a while since my last post and you can thank the George Foreman Grill: By Stream Of Consciousness Eddie

So, I wanted to buy a George Foreman grill. One of those special ones that cook things on both sides so you know the food is done and you won't get big intestinal parasites, you know. The thing is, if you char the crap out of a piece of meat, you're good. Parasites and their eggs can't exist in charcoal, I guess. So, I call the company, right? I tell them how I'm a hard bargainer because that always lets 'em know not to try and screw me. They tell me that they don't bargain but I think we both know what that means. It means, this game is on like Donkey Kong bee-atch. So, I say it's not about the money. I say, I'm more than happy to buy three grills but I have a special request if that's gonna happen, right? I say, I need to buy them directly from George Foreman himself. They put me on hold. I was disconnected after fifteen minutes. I know what's going on. They're testing me. I'll wait for them to make the next move.



*Remember: You're not sure it's a genuine parasite protecting, thorough cooking George Foreman Grill until you're sure it's George himself selling it to you. That's how they get you and you get stuck with some Foreman knock-off crap.