Thursday, July 9, 2009

Tales From the Wheelie Bus and Other Assorted Indifference Songs

As always, we thank you old man electrified scooting machine driver and public transportationista regular for your maddeningly beautiful toupee that's so classically faux there's no need for a neon sign screaming TOUPEE LIVE NUDE GIRLS XXX but we must also thank the stranger who we may never see again for his maddeningly beautiful toupee and for the two midlife crisis gentlemen who got on at distinctly different stops for sprouting archetypal porn moustaches that would make John Holmes blush and for the lady sporting a lemon yellow and vomit green top that given its overt sheen could only be polyester for gifting to your fellow passengers our very own That 70s Show but next time bring Laura Prepon and Mila Kunis merci.


















Et merci to scienticians who have developed an anti-aging pill from Easter Island gunk. Sure, if I get to live forever I might finally compose some quality verse, but with the side effect of my head becoming a giant rock, is it really worth it?

















Et merci to Danny Boy and Sideshow Bob for curing your previous bout with yokelry and collecting autographs in July instead of October. 7+ million should be enough, even with your vast debit of hair care purchases.


















Et merci to The King for proving that even the greatest player on planet earth can be a fan of paranoid national security douchebaggery. Even us nonathletic sub-six foot white guys get dunked on. Happens to the best of us, pal.













Et merci to another King, Steve -- no, not that one, that one-- for your truly inspirational act. In order to safeguard my Innsmouth heritage, I'm voting no in the future. Try and chisel references to the Old Ones now, filthy hippies. Well, off to erect a plaque to onion rings.











One last thing, I hope none of you are still wishing you could be an Oscar Mayer wiener because they had to do something with his corpse, although I suppose not even the discerning gourmand could tell the difference.

15 comments:

Mary Ellen said...

Sure, if I get to live forever I might finally compose some quality verse, but with the side effect of my head becoming a giant rock, is it really worth it?

That's one way to get "stoned". Ok...that was a groaner, but it's early, give me time. ;-)

Dusty said...

The King was the one that demanded the tape be confiscated?

I am calling bullshit on that move!

Dr. Zaius said...

I'll have some onion rings with ketchup and not quite so much rotting corpse, thank you.

Randal Graves said...

nunly, groaner is right, and not the extra sexy kind. For shame!

dusty, as the youth say, no props.

dr. zaius, but the rotting corpse disguises the rat droppings!

Tom Harper said...

It's true, Easter Island Gunk will enable you to live to a ripe old age. Unfortunately, the three Easter Island residents in that photo are only 28 years old. What will they look like when they're 90?

Non Je Ne Regrette Rien said...

what is this...a contest for the longest opening sentence? I's confused. maybe its cos I don't live there anymore?

Randal Graves said...

tom, Hans Moleman is not someone you want to emulate.

JNRR, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt and a strange comment from a chick who lives in the land of Captain Run-on himself.

Liberality said...

you need to start blipping young man so you can really give out props.

creepy passengers make life so much more interesting don't you think?

Beach Bum said...

...the two midlife crisis gentlemen who got on at distinctly different stops for sprouting archetypal porn moustaches that would make John Holmes blush and for the lady sporting a lemon yellow and vomit green top...

That Easter Island anti-aging stuff needs to be hidden. Do we really want 200 year-old examples of those above?

Kvatch said...

I was particularly fascinated by Oscar Meyer's passing. Imagine...the man lived into his 90's and will forever be known as the inventor and purveyor of bad lunch meat. Oh! The humanity.

S.W. Anderson said...

"LIVE NUDE GIRLS XXX."

Aha . . .yes? . . . yes?

So, I read all the way down to the flippin', gratuitous corpse picture, and the closest to curvy and sensuous to be had is onion rings? Not that I don't enjoy onion rings, but still.

I have to go now. I'm going to try to purge from my mind, well before bedtime, the image of one man playing with another man's hairpiece. That is really perverted.

Randal, you never should've signed up for that correspondence course from the De Sade School of Creative Writing, even if it was only $19.95.

Chef Cthulhu said...

Don't knock porn staches. Mine gets me free drinks everywhere I go.

Randal Graves said...

liberality, I forgot I signed up for that thing. I really should be spreading the death metal gospel.

As for passengers, as long as they don't smell like vomit or crack my skull with a baseball bat, I agree.

BB, you're correct, and what if Babs the Impaler hears about this? She might to start rearing more mutant Bush offspring.

kvatch, it is possible to be remembered for being a purveyor of good lunch meat?

SWA, be De Sade had naughty bits, and I just realized that you're right, the only curves were to be found in deep-battered vegetables. I feel so ashamed.

chef, "John Holmes! Aren't you dead? Oh hell, here's a free beer!"

Tengrain said...

Graves, you swine!

...my head becoming a giant rock, is it really worth it?

I think I can say without qualifying it, head should never be like a giant rock.

Regards,

Tengrain

Randal Graves said...

tengrain, you bastard, I now have a distinctly unpleasant and painful image in my noodle.