Saturday, February 28, 2009

Ich bin Musik, und Ich schreib' die Lieder, Dept.

When I was just a teenage sobsister in the hands of the wily Jesuits, I studied German for three years. Now, the third year was a wash because all we did was sit around, bullshit with our charming German-born teacher and play Skat, a popular German card game. The second year we spent learning endless vocabulary under the tutelage of another German-born teacher, considerably less charming and determined to convince us that we were the academic elite.
Very "Will to Power," very "Tomorrow Belongs to Me."

So, it was left to the first year to actually, you know, learn how to speak the frackin' language, which we sort of did at the hands of a patient Jesuit who stressed pronunciation above all else. He had a whole routine about the mouth being like a basketball court, and umlauted vowels were pronounced down by the basket and other vowels at the top of the key. Or something. It's enough that I remember enough of it to misremember.

Anyhoo, one of his paedagogical tools was German-language versions of popular songs. Well, popular in 1963, apparently, because all we listened to was "Komm, gib mir deine Hand" by The Beatles and "Die Antwort, mein Freund, ist ganz allein der Wind" by Bobby Dylan and "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," which didn't even make sense in English. In that spirit, I offer you this corking version of "Downtown," likely sung by that pet of a girl, Petula Clark, who, if her Web site is any indication, has recorded in all the world languages, plus Quechua and Hmong.

Was the German market so strong in the late '50s and early '60s as to justify rerecording songs in that language? For that matter, was the Spanish-language film market so strong in the mid-'30s as to justify concurrently filming movies, as was done to, for example, Dracula, with Spanish-speaking actors? "Yes," to both, apparently. In the former case, my theory is that there were a lot of unemployed translators in Britain who'd been idle since the days of breaking Jerry's codes. Which should not be confused with "Jerry's Kids."

At any rate, follow the link to Pet Clark and a blast of 1964. I'll be putting on my white vinyl boots and joining you in a min.

From the excellent April Winchell Web site. Spend a week or two there.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

You Can't Spell "Sectarian Shooting Spree" without "Jesus," Dept.

Guns in church bill dies in Arkansas Senate panel -

From the page:
"Guns in church bill dies in Arkansas Senate panel
A state Senate panel has rejected a bill that would allow concealed handguns in Arkansas churches, a proposal that divided religious leaders.

The measure would have removed churches and other houses of worship from the list of places where concealed handguns are banned in Arkansas. Only churches and bars are on that list.

Gol-dang, lily-livered, Jesus-hatin', Huffington-lovin', pinko Adam'n'stEves!

How can a man show his face inside the Lord's House stripped of his shootin' irons?! That'd be like Samson shorn of the locks that gave him his muscles!

Now, imagine you're sittin' there in the pew, and the preacher-man's jawin' on about somethin' or another to do with Jesus, and it's kind of a hot day, heavy, y'know?, and *BANG!* in storms some Supralapsarian sumbitch or, even worse, a Mooslim! Now, if you ain't packin', son, you are lackin'! How're you gonna give that sumbitch a permanent part if your .357's locked up in some fool trunk or whatnot?! Scale a hymnal off 'is head, you won't even make 'im blink!

So, call your senator--'cause writin's for pointyheaded, latte-sippin', Hillary-huggin', Bolshevik sissy boys--and tear that sumbitch a new one.
Tell 'im you got a Biblical right to bear arms before the altar of the Lord! Tell 'im that!
Then tell 'im you know where his little blonde daughter goes to school and, my, ain't she a pretty, fragile li'l thing.
Do it.
Do it for Jesus, 'cause you know He'd do it for you.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Get Your Kicks on Route 69, Dept.

Transcript February 14, 2009

MODERATOR: My first question to you, then, is: how does one get from Intercourse, PA to Climax, SK?

What's that? Yes, "sweaty thrusting" is one possibility. Anyone else?
That's right, "crazy-weasel pumping" is another one. What else? Yes, you in the back with the, with the hair?
Well, yes, I think we can count "ramming the 5:15 into the station repeatedly until the headboard splinters."

But it seems that all these answers, valid though they may be, rely solely on brute animal force. How about some approaches that won't bedew your body entire with beads and rivulets of salty glass? Anyone? No?

Then, let me introduce you to something called Xtreme Oral Pleasuring™, or XOP.

Gentlemen and those ladies who wish Lea DeLaria weren't quite so girly, this adorable little button deserves more attention than a Midwest queen at Bloomingdale's 59th Street. Ladies and those fellows who wish Liza Minnelli were harmony triplets, this handsome knob needs the kind of TLC a puppy gives its owner the morning after he's been brought home from the pound.

I can hear you say, "But, sobsister, who is ignorant of the pleasures that the oral pleasuring brings in the way of pleasurable pleasure?" And I say, "No one besides ancient Romans and Hottentots." But are you aware of the many and numerous advantages that Xtreme Oral Pleasuring™ can offer you?

Aside from the fact that you can wear your best suit or frock without fear of pitting it something awful, imagine a fellatio session that lasts 18 hours! The grindingly painful erection aside, XOP offers both participants amazing weight loss benefits--you're probably not stuffing yourself with greasy fast food while someone's making a 14-course Chinese banquet of your junk or while you're scarfing down a cup of DNA juice!

Or think about a cunnilingus encounter that takes a weekend to complete! Ladies, the discomfort occasioned by dehydration and foot cramps is more than offset by the financial advantages you gain! Did you know that if you orgasm continuously for longer than 24 hours you are eligible to claim per diem? And that beaver botherers are eligible for Workmen's Comp for any buccolingual damage incurred while on their employer's premises?!

Check my Web site,, to get updates on the availability of my book, Jaws of Life: Mandibular Endurance and Xtreme Oral Pleasuring™. It gives you 101 numbered tips on how to maintain feeling in your jaw, tongue and lips even as you run a marathon of oral gratification! The first 100 orders will receive a complimentary copy of Earn the Burn!: The Role of Capsicum in Xtreme Oral Training™, an $89.95 value itself, free. And if you order within the next 30 minutes, you'll receive at no additional charge a DVD copy of ShamWow® Bloopers!: America's Kraziest Outtakes!

America, put your money where your mouth should be! Get into Xtreme Oral Pleasuring™ now! For, it is far, far better to give than to receive. Unless you're giving and receiving at the same time. In which case, you are golden, motherfucker.

End transcript.
Hammer Time!, Dept.

Indulgences Return, and Heaven Moves a Step Closer for Catholics -

From the page:

"For Catholics, a Door to Absolution Is Reopened

The announcement in church bulletins and on Web sites has been greeted with enthusiasm by some and wariness by others. But mainly, it has gone over the heads of a vast generation of Roman Catholics who have no idea what it means: 'Bishop Announces Plenary Indulgences.'

In recent months, dioceses around the world have been offering Catholics a spiritual benefit that fell out of favor decades ago -- the indulgence, a sort of amnesty from punishment in the afterlife -- and reminding them of the church's clout in mitigating the wages of sin.

That's the stuff! B-b-b-benny XVI rockin' the house ol' skool! Plenary, I don't know about you, but that takes me back...back...back to the town of Wittenberg, to whose church doors a brash monk by the name of Martin Luther is nailing some four score and fifteen theses.

Why, here are four of them right now to harmonize an instructional message! Sing it, theses 21 - 24!

21. Therefore those preachers of indulgences are in error, who say that by the pope's indulgences a man is freed from every penalty, and saved;

22. Whereas he remits to souls in purgatory no penalty which, according to the canons, they would have had to pay in this life.

23. If it is at all possible to grant to any one the remission of all penalties whatsoever, it is certain that this remission can be granted only to the most perfect, that is, to the very fewest.

24. It must needs be, therefore, that the greater part of the people are deceived by that indiscriminate and highsounding promise of release from penalty.

*ha ha!* Sounds like B-b-b-benny's trying to get money for old rope! Now, Ol' Crocodile-head isn't going to be selling the indulgences like his illustrious, sodomitical predecessors lurved to do. Or so he claims. The spokesman for the Diocese of Brooklyn, the Rev. Kieran Harrington, noted that it's about "acts of charity." Like, say, giving alms to rebuild St. Peter's Basilica? 'Cause that's why Pope Leo X--preceded by Pope Girls Gone Wild IX--authorized the sale of indulgences back in 1517. Which set that aforementioned brash monk a-hammerin'.

In a related story, the pope also reminded the faithful that Jews torture consecrated Hosts in blasphemous parodies of the Mass, that the Mussulmans unjustifiably occupies the birthplace of Our Lord and that women are foul cloacae who brought Original Sin into God's creation. He closed his message with a resounding "Deus vult!", unsheathed his sword, Widowmaker, and lopped the head off his Ganymedean altar boy.

In the words of Damn Yankees' Mr. Applegate: Those were the good old days!

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

Me Am So Smart and Qualified!, Dept.

On Politics - New Face of G.O.P. Brings a Brash Style -

Wow. So, the Republicans elected Michael Steele, a Black Senate aspirant, as head of the GOP. Except that he, you know, lost his Senate race in 2006, despite being supported financially and politically by Karl Rove and Dick Cheney--the moral equivalent of being welcomed to the neighborhood by the Manson Family. So, I guess you could say he was the Bizarro-Barack Obama.

And, in true Bizarro fashion, he just says the cutest ass-backwards things!

Like, last Saturday, he apparently congratulated House Republicans for denying President Obama any votes on his recovery package with the inspirational, ""The goose egg you laid on the president's desk was just beautiful." Nice one, Bizarro-Barack! Country's going down the shitter, but, instead of working to solve our problems, no reason not to score some cheapie points with the garbage snufflers on the GOP side of the aisle!

And then, in reference to President Obama, he said, "It's going to be an honor to spar with him," before apparently referencing Kool Moe Dee's "How Ya Like Me Now". Silly rabbit. If he's going to talk sparring and try to go old school, he obviously should've cited L.L. Cool J's "Mama Said Knock You Out."

Yeah. So, to review the bidding: a Black politico is hoisted up by the intellectually and ethically bankrupt GOP to lead their party. Except, unlike President Obama, he's a bigmouth who's failed at politics and who appears to have the moral compass of a child molester at a pre-K (funny story about how his campaign paid homeless people from Philadelphia to hand out flyers in Maryland containing fabricated information including non-existent endorsements of Steele by prominent Democrats and African-American leaders...*ha ha*...he so crazy)

And, kids, don't forget the Bizarro Code: