Two Ways to Use Italics

Part of me likes to relax pool side, sipping on a frozen daiquiri, listening to mellow Caribbean music and taking in the hot sun. The other part of me swallowed my bathing cap so maybe I should just go to the hospital? Can you drive me? Hopefully we can get back in time before they close the pool.  (Wouldn't count on it. Today is all about the bathing cap incident.)

And that's how you ruin a vacation.

Hands up, ya varmints! This here is a stickup. I'm Cowboy Slim and that there's my partner Jim Crook. We're robbing this here saloon and there ain't no sheriff in the country of Texas gonna stop us. So put your valuables... OUCH! I just shot my own dick off. OK listen up everybody, there's been a change of plans on account of me shooting my own dick off.  Jim Crook's gonna collect them valuables from you. Talkin' gold coins, gold nuggets, sterling silver, precious stones, gems such as rubies and emeralds, Indian turquoise, and whatever currency you're carrying. 

Meanwhile I'm gonna take a quick trip to the doctor on account of my shooting my own dick off.

Can't believe I just robbed a saloon and shot my own dick off.

Dan M. Gene-Jackette

If your name is Dan M. Gene-Jaquette then why not call yourself Denim Jean jacket? It's the same difference. Plus it's never a bad idea to match your name with your outerwear so you leave people with something memorable about you. They'll say "What was the name of that French guy who wore the denim jean jacket? ...Ooooh yeaaah!"

You see how easy it is? That's why I changed my name from Taylor Dzoot to "Tailored Suit". Because that's the kind of thing you'll see me wearing. Fine Italian Tailored Suits. With slicked back hair and designer sunglasses. My shoes cost more than you'll make all  year. 

Who knows, maybe someday you could be like me, a great white shark-man in a SeaWorld full of seals, guppies, and puffins.  

But it's doubtful. Not with a name like "Denim Jean Jacket."

Accept your fate. 

This Holiday Season

Nothing says "I care" more than a Holiday card that literally says "I care" when you open it, spoken in clear plain English. Too bad that technology is at least 2 years away. Until that glorious day when we teach paper to talk, we'll just have to settle on using Hallmark cards; in all their neo-abstract-impressionist pretentiousness. 

Also I want a talking rug, that says "ouch"! when I step on him, and a sassy talking light bulb, "How many of YOU does it take to screw ME in?" He'll entreat.

But I digress. This Holiday season try to remember what really matters: the difference between what you spent on gifts and what you think the gifts you received are worth. 

Here's hoping for a net positive. 

- Santa Clause

The Man from Kentucky

One time I was at an upstate apple orchard where I struck up a conversation with a man from Kentucky. I've never been to the "Ol' KC" so I asked him what it was like. "Well" He thought for a second. "You're taking too long" I said. That's the problem with Kentuckens, they think the world owes them something. I then brandished my 100% authentic Japanese Samurai sword I bought that week from the home shopping network. "welcome to New York" I said in a gruff voice as I did a karate twirl and cut a limb off an old apple tree beside us. The branch fell to the ground along with a couple ripe apples. "How you like them apples"? I asked rhetorically. 

By this time the impressed man from Kentucky was well on his way to the front entrance. He looked like he was in a hurry, like he was racing in the Kentucky derby. I'm guessing he was eager to tell his wife, or whoever, all about the awesome man he just met. 

I looked down at the slain apples on their deathbed of autumn leaves. A perfect still-life of golden yellows and cinnamon reds as if arranged for an Old Master painting. Then I noticed a fucking worm in one of the apples. Disgusting. I quickly looked around and saw a bird overhead. I pointed to the worm for him to eat. I waved my hands high and shouted out "worm here!". Despite my vigorous effort to grease the food chain, so to speak, the bird flew off. Maybe he saw a bigger, juicier worm in another apple over yonder. 

Just one of many stories from "the big apple". 

Part of Me

Part of me really wants a big two story house on a tree lined block in the suburbs, with a trophy wife and kids, and a couple expensive race cars in the garage. The other part of me will eat barbecue sauce packets for dinner. 

Part of me wants to be the life of the party, dress real slick like the guys in GQ magazine, and impress everyone with a careful mix of dry whit and unpretentious confidence. The other part of me wants to crawl out of a toilet, like a little extra terrestrial shit-man. "T.P. phone home! T.P. phone home!" and then I roll around the floor spitting at people. 

I use to have regrets, but I soon came to realize that regrets are for losers. You should never regret anything in life. I really wish I didn't regret stuff when I was younger. Man, how could I be so stupid?

Call me stupid...

Call me stupid, but didn't I say something smart?

Nothing in life is permanent except permanent ink, and even that remains to be seen.

Life is like a box of white chocolates: something's missing.

Call me a fucking idiot, but what country do we live in again? America? Ok yeah that rings a bell. I always get "America" and "North America" confused. Like I said, call me a fucking idiot.

Who died and made YOU king? Your father? He was the king? So you mean you're the prince? You WERE the prince, ah right. So now you're the king. Gotcha. Sorry to disturb you, your majesty. I'll let you enjoy your bath now. I was just grabbing these towels...and my tooth brush up here...Ok thanks got everything I needed....Woops almost forgot my magazine down there by the tub, thanks. Thanks so much. What kind of magazine is it? It's uh... Just something one of the other servants left around. I was... uh...inspecting it for any rude language, blasphemy  or treason against your highness. That sort of thing. Found none happy to report! Who am I?

I'm Jeff.


- Chucky Berry

A New One

Phillip Roth wrote a book about me. It's called The Turd Bungler and it's about a guy with a dog who can't seem to pick up the dog doo doo without (by accidentally) tossing it in my neighbor's mouth.

Phillip Roth wrote a book about my cousin, his name: Cousin 8 Ball. He's cool as Hell and warm as Heaven. One time he smacked a fool with a Kraft Single right across the butt-face.

That phool his name was Ron. You may know him as Ron Goof of Dallas TX, but who the fuck cares who you know, son? This ain't the "I know him!" game. This is real life goofy stuff on the internet. Now shutup and gimme twenty pushups. I'm the kernal!

Hoagies from Heaven starring Hulk Hero. Today's episode: "Hold the mayo"

"Hold it where"? asked the deli man. I guess that was his idea of a joke. Well two can play at that game. "Hold it up your refrigerator's CUNT." I said.

AND THAT is how you simultaneously take it too far, while also not making sense.

- Chucky Berry

Interview with author Jeff Steinman

Chucky Berry:

I'm sitting here with Jeff Steinman, author of Why Does God Hate Me? And Other Rhetorical Questions. 
Jeff, I like the book very much. What was the impetuous to write it?

Jeff Steinman:

Well, the night I was done writing my last book, The Authorized Biography of Sonic the Hedgehog, I drank a glass of red wine, slipped into my hot tub with a cigar, and said "Right. Now get back to work, you lazy piece of filthy shit." And then I farted but you wouldn't have noticed if you were there because the hot tub has its own bubbles. So the secret stays with me. 

So you go from one book right to another then?

I told you, I farted. So no. It took me 3 days to fart because I've been holding it in for 3 years.

...And why's that?

I was afraid of exploding. Look, when you're a creative powerhouse such as a Bob Dylan, or a Jeff Steinman, you don't always think rationally. You're a slave to the muse, and sometimes the muse kisses your tits, and sometimes she makes you kiss her's.

You mentioned Bob Dylan. Who are the artists that have influenced you?

More than anyone I'd have to say me: Jeff Steinman. I've showed myself all kinds of things. Just last night I showed me how to cut a potato. The trick is to use a small axe or knife, or scissors might work. I never cared for Bob Dylan. But it's interesting, you know who I like? Believe it or not? Shakespeare. He was on to something. Very "British". And I'm an Anglophile so it all makes sense. 

Will there be an Authorized Biography of Sonic the Hedgehog 2. A sequel? 

No. I'm not going to tarnish my legacy like that. 

Where do you see the future of print media?

Everything you read will be on a computer screen. And you'll be able to download entire books on to personal reading devices. 

What you're describing sounds a lot like the present day.

Exactly. Some thing never change. Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for my bubble bath.

Well thanks for talking to me today.

Don't mention it. Seriously don't mention it.

...Mention what?

What? Oh nothing, just reminding myself of something.

Very well. Thanks for the interview, Jeff.

Yeah...Don't mention it.

I won't.

Steppin' Out

 

You Don't See Me Complaining

An old Chinese guy in prison just can't win. If he says "thank you" it sounds like "shank you." And that's a big no-no in the slammer. 

At one time Tyrannosaurus Rex was the most feared, ferocious killing machine of all the dinosaurs. This was in the mid to late 80's. Then Jurassic Park came out and everybody got all excited about "Raptors" because of that one scene. You know the one. 

One summer I decided to work on a science project for the following school year. My thesis: What if Jurassic park really existed? To carry out my experiment I went and bought a turtle, a frog, two lizards, and placed them all on a little island in the middle of a pond not too far from my home.  They all swam away and I failed my science class that semester. 

Christmas use to be about family, giving, and spreading holiday cheer. Now it's all about hurting the bad guys with crazier and crazier traps and follies, and running around New York City without parental supervision. Wait, I'm thinking of Home Alone 2. 

I wish Donnie Brosco kept up his mafia guy act just a little longer. That way Al Pacino would really freak when he finds out the truth: Donnie is an FBI agent. Your whole world just crumpled, my friend. Fahgettaboutit. That's what I'd say if I were in the scene with them. Then Pacino would really blow his top. 

Ice cream gives me a headache, a stomach ache, and a toothache. But you don't see ME complaining!

- Chucky Berry

Chucky P. Bunson Berry is a part time lyricist for Dock Worker's Limerick Monthly