That mofizzle is CRAZEIZZY, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers
A lot of love
There was lots of hugging at the State of the Union speech last night. Laura Bush hugged the Iraqi voter. The Iraqi voter hugged Laura Bush. The paramedic hugged Dick Cheney. Actually, he was giving Cheney CPR, but it was still touching all the same.
And you would be . . .?
The Vatican reports that the Pope is doing much better. Apparently the Vatican has hired Dick Clark’s public relations team. They should soon be reporting that the Pope is about to go for a six-mile run.
The Los Angeles Lakers coach, Rudy Tomjonavich, quit saying he doesn’t feel well. Insiders say Rudy has a Japanese version of Mad Cow disease: He’s got a beef with Kobe.
New meaning to pop quiz
Officials are going to install breathalyzers at schools at the Hamptons because so many students are showing up drunk. Apparently first daughter, Jenna Bush, has started teaching high school already.
So long Sosa
Former Chicago Cubs slugger, Sammy Sosa, said God wanted him to be traded to the Baltimore Orioles so he can hit more home runs. God is directing Sammy Sosa? That explains how David beat Goliath: he was on steroids and his sling was corked.
Granted, he is a great coach, but the New England Patriot’s coach Bill Belichick isn’t the greatest interview in the world. Let’s just say this guy didn’t exactly put the riot in Patriots.
It turns out Paris Hilton will not be charged for stealing her own sex video from an L.A. newspaper stand. An angry Paris stole her video saying that she didn’t want her fans to see it. Fans? What fans? If Paris wants some fans she should leave the damn video out for sale.
On the waiting list
Philadelphia Eagles receiver Terrell Owens announced he will play in the Super Bowl because god is healing him. Sorry Pope, you’re on your own in the hospital, the big guy is busy healing Terrell Owens
Jury selection if over for the Michael Jackson trial. Give that judge credit, it was not easy finding a jury of Michael Jackson’s peers. You try and find twelve crazy rich white women.
Last night we sent comedian Howie Mandell to cover the “Xena: Warrior Princess” convention. It was amazing. I had no idea there so many lesbian nerds.
Los Angeles Lakers coach Rudy Tomjanivich quit. First Phil Jackson quit, now Tomjanivich. Poor Kobe. Nobody wants to be his coach. It’s bad enough that nobody wants to bring him room service, now nobody wants to be his coach.
The reviews have been critical of Microsoft’s new search engine. For example, if you type in the name Michael Jackson, you get the web site for Tyco Toys.
Pope on a slippery slope
The Vatican reports that the Pope is doing better. He’s still having trouble getting out of bed. In fact, the Pope has to struggle harder to stand up then the Democrats did during President Bush’s State of the Union Speech.
Well, you can . . .
Switzerland has a beer for gay people called Queer Beer. It will soon be available in the U.S. Yeah, you can soon get Queer Beer at Dick’s Liquor. What? What I say?
Have you heard the slogan for Queer Beer? “It’s the Queen of beers.”
Have you heard the slogan for Queer Beer? It’s “Tastes great. Get over yourself, person.”
Since you asked:
In my opinion, subjecting a captive audience to long, banal, one-sided conversations is selfish and rude. David Letterman once said, just for fun, when he is a captive audience to a cell phone conversation, he likes to join in as if he is involved in it:
“What am I doing? Why, I’m standing here inline with you. No, I don’t want Chinese food tonight, but thanks.”
One Saturday morning I decided to have fun with one of the worst cases of cell phone bragging ever witnessed. While in line at the local crowded and slow moving bagel shop, this woman whipped out her cell phone, and in a deliberately loud voice she veritably shouted:
“Hey, guess who I just got as a client?” (Ever notice how the same annoying people who ask you to guess actually make you guess?) After several incorrect guesses from the other end, this woman yells out;
“My new client is Junior Seau. Yeah, all pro linebacker Junior Seau is my new client. I gotta go.”
This Junior-Seau-as-a-client revelation caused a few heads to turn and no sooner than she hung up, she dialed again and repeated the exact same conversation to some other victim.
“Guess who I just got as a client? No, no, no . . .” I turned to a stranger in line next to me and I loudly whispered, “I’m going to take a wild guess that it’s Junior Seau.” We both cracked up as she yelled out “My new client is Junior Seau” the second time.
The third time, when she re-dialed, my new in line buddy decided to get in on the fun. “Let me try” he said. When the new client question was raised again, he said;
“Is the new client O. J. Simpson?” When the woman again yelled “My new client is Junior Seau” he said, “Shoot, I was going to guess that next.”
Now everyone in line is laughing at this oblivious and loud cell phone bragger. No lie, she must have repeated the “Guess who is my new client” call at least ten times. After the fourth time when she demanded that her victim on the other end guess, people up and down the bagel line were piping out with their own guesses.
“Guess who I have as a new client?” One guy replied “Osama bin Laden?” There was a guess of Scott Peterson, Paris Hilton and at least two Donald Trumps. When the cell phone bragger invariably proudly shouted out “My new client is Junior Seau”, everyone groaned in mock disappointment. This was now a crowd scene worthy of Mel Brooks.
By the seventh call our curiosity was piqued. We openly guessed as to just what service, exactly, this woman performed for Junior Seau? Since she was attractive we jumped to some severe conclusions. Yoga teacher? Could she be a massage therapist, perhaps? Or maybe even a hooker? Someone mentioned that Seau was recently divorced so, yep, that was it, the entire bagel shop agreed: this woman was Junior Seau’s new hooker.
No sooner than we decided she was Junior’s hooker, as god is my witness, the cell-phone yammering bragging woman announced;
“Yeah, really, Junior Seau is my new client. No, I’m serious. Yeah, in fact, I just got done . . . doing his two Rotweilers.”
Everyone nearly hit the floor convulsed with laughter. “She must have charged extra for that . . . “ my new buddy said.
It was a little later that we figured out she was a dog groomer, but, by then it was too late, we were spasmodic with hysterical, tear-wiping poorly stifled chuckling. She finally hung up and had absolutely no idea why everyone in the entire joint was laughing.
The moral? Don’t bring that weak-ass cell phone yammering bragging into my Carmel Valley/Del Mar hoodizzy or you gonna get played like a beeeeyatch, ahhhhhiiight? Peace, I’m out, yo.