Poor Little Adolph

A couple in Easton, Pa was upset when a local bakery wouldn't put their son's name on a birthday cake.  In the bakery's defense, the child's name is Adolph Hitler.  You'd think they would've learned their lesson after naming Adolph's older sister Aryan Nation.  

This is not a joke, btw.  Just a couple obvious racists expressing themselves freely and ruining their children's lives.  Happy Holidays!

I Calls It The Jelly Ass

Have you ever wiped your ass with a tissue into which you've just blown your nose?  It's usually out of necessity (ie., running out of toilet paper...etc.) and mostly happens when you've underestimated the amount of snot in the tissue before dunking it in your shitbox.  What I'm trying to say is that I'd never intentionally give myself the Jelly Ass.  There's some situations where it accidentally happens is all I'm saying. 

So Incredibly Lame

I've been watching a lot of Youtube b/c I don't have cable and they haven't cancelled my internet service yet and, man, I gotta tell you I am not impressed with humans at all.  For every grainy 9-second clip of something fantastic, there are millions of minutes of many things startlingly less than fantastic.

There are so many different things to complain about that I'm not even going to try to sum it all up.  Instead, I'll just pick one example that really shows the asses of 99% of the people in this world I don't yet know.

Tribute Videos.  There, I said it.  From The Crocodile Hunter to Roy Scheider, I promise you will be amazed at how poor and repetitive they are... all 28 million of them.  Ever since 9/11 people are really hellbent for tribute videos.  Enough already.  Oh, and for those of you who persevere and make more tribute videos, here is a tip that you CLEARLY haven't heard:  Pick music that isn't terrible.  Why does every song suck harder than a Jewish vacuum cleaner picking up Gold Dust.  Yes, I just made that up as I typed it.            

And there are just the random ones that bother me, like the "WOW! Totally Miniature Cat!" that is just a video clip of a kitten.  C'mon now, man.

Regards,

Karl "Monkeyass" Johnstone

Sup, Suge?

We're cool, right?  No beef between us I should know about or anything, right?  I don't remember any, but I wanted to make sure.  If there is something I should be aware of, then please let me know so I can apologize like a man and make up for whatever it is.  If not, then let's just enjoy the holidays like rational human beings.

I'd rather bang this than the last girl I actually banged, regardless of what it's face looks like.

Okay, one more dream

For reasons unknown, I was living with Sigourney Weaver in an enormous and poorly lit brownstone.  She gave me a ladder of Xanax and almost had sex with me.  It's not as simple as all that, though.  She was angry most of the time, and--I suspected--a little disappointed in me.  One of her interns brought up my father and I kinda lost it.  Don't know why.  Anyway, Sigourney kinda took pity on me after that and that's when the Xanax appeared.  That's when I whipped it out.  That's when we almost had sex.  That's when I woke up.

Mom and Dad would be proud...

... if I were anyone else.  I made a new friend the other day; his name is Jimmy the Weasel.  He's much prouder of his nickname than you'd suspect, and certainly more so than I am of knowing someone named Jimmy the Weasel.  My friend Bowman introduced me to a guy named Cowboy and I was stoked to have a friend I could call "Cowboy".  I also have a pal called "Crow"--I thought that was also pretty cool.  When I first moved to Hollywood, I found myself drinking with a guy tattoo'd with "Mr. Motherfucker" across his forearm.  Again, I thought that was pretty cool.

Now, here I am, me and the Weasel.  No more Cowboy and Crow; Mr. Motherfucker might've OD'd a while back... I'm not sure.  Sometimes you measure yourself by the company you keep, and sometimes you really, really shouldn't.

I Had A Much Better Dream

This isn't supposed to be just about dreams and dissecting my many problems, but I happened to have a fantastic dream last night.  I met a woman who refused to keep her clothes on and needed me to constantly remind her that her tits felt real, even though they were real.  She kept asking me for favors and rides and cigarettes but it was totally cool because she was naked the whole time. Great body, too.  It kept changing into whatever I liked and I even had her put on a spongy yellow tube-top at one point because sometimes tits look even better when they're not exposed... plus she was still naked from the belly-button down.

Then, her girlfriends came by and made me drive them to Philadelphia in my old favorite '89 Pathfinder that I miss dearly.  Keeping with the theme, they were partially naked as well.  When my buddy Blind Mike showed up with some herb, he was so psyched; car full of naked women and no real pressure to do anything other than party and get to Philly.  I couldn't party for most of the ride because I was driving so the girl sitting shotgun told me that I could play with her tits to pass the time.  I told her that was pathetic.  She agreed and offered me a handjob.  At that point, I was pretty much just waiting for my alarm clock to go off.  Just as she unzipped my fly, it did.

Kishka Internationale

What a world; it's all about girth.  Thankfully, my kishka smuggling days are over.

The Easter Bunny

I had a dream that my entire apartment was covered in Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch and they cut up my feet as I squashed them into the hardwood floor en route to the bathroom.  They scared the shit out of me.  It was dark--in my dream, I mean--that's why I didn't know the floor was covered in Cap'n Crunches... that's why I got scared.

My bubby made me do it

Welcome Lionel, let's do this all proper-like.