Friday, December 02, 2011

In Good Time

The concept of time is subjective according to culture and nationality. For instance, 3 o'clock is Irish. 3 McClock is Scottish.

And if it's 7:00 here in North America, it's 00:L in South America.

Einstein knew what time it was: Time 2 Party 4 Real

"I will sell you my Big Ben for a nibble off your crumpet, my Lady." is how English people speak.
And I think we should speak more like that if we want to be taken seriously.

Oh, almost forgot: Today is the first day of the rest of your life. So better pack a toothbrush, some edible underwear, and a stop watch so you can see how long it takes to get from Shitsville to Cacadoodooland.
I made it in under 3 seconds.

All in good time.

-Chucky Berry

Monday, October 31, 2011

20 questions, by Chucky Berry


I'm 20 feet tall, my head looks like broccoli and chipmunks live in my holes. What am I?
A tree!

I'm a jack-o-lantern's best friend, I wear suspenders, I carry candy corn at all times. What am I?
Giblette The Pumpkin King!

I own 5 computers. I learned Siamese from an authentic Siamese cat-man. My smartphone is made of 100% recycled toilet paper. I'm the proud owner of not 4, but 5 computers. What am I?
Luther Le'Computer

One time I jumped so high a bird flew into my mouth. What am I?
tlamp-o-mlean aulgh go boinga boinga hoy up in da sky

I knew Forrest Gump personally. I'm famous. Who am I?
Forrest Gumper

I'm Chucky Berry and this has been 20 Questions.

Friday, October 28, 2011

Cat Burglary


The precious gem chunklett of Marie L'escargot  was sitting there in the jewel museum like a sitting duck, waiting  for pluckings. Cat burglary is my forte. And I ain't talking about burgers.
I'm talking about Jewel heists.

The plan was audacious and hopeful.

Once I'd have the chucklett in my hands I'd be rich beyond my wildest dreams. I could finally buy a table saw. And once I have a table saw, I can make handmade crafts and sell them at flea markets for hundreds of dollars, thereby making me a millionaire.

I could practically taste the money in my mouth. And I ain't talking about burgers.

So then what is a cat burgler? He who stealthily steals gems and jewels and golden treasures under the cloak of night. Dressed like his favorite cat. Mine's Garfield. Who's yours? If you say Heathcliff you really shouldn't. No one should.

So there I was on the roof of the museum, cutting a hole in the skylight with my laser knife when all of a sudden a flood light shone from above. Copper chopper!

"FREEZE! WITH YOUR HANDS UP! LET US SEE YOUR HANDS! LETTUCE CHEESE YOUR HAMS. AND WE AIN'T TALKIN' BOUT BURGERS!"

To be continued...





Monday, September 12, 2011

EXCERPT from The Chucky Berry Book, Chapter Zero: Prologue

When I decided to title my first book, I Farted And Flew Out The Window, I knew I had gold because it is an instant question asker: Who farted? What window? When did this happen to you? Where did you end up? Why did you do it (assuming you had agency in the matter)? How'd you get a book deal?
All perfectly illegitimate questions.

The answer is agency. As in, our capacity to "make things happen" is our agency. As in, I have agency to publish my own book. I don't need a publishing agency. As in, go ask my fucking agent, Drunk Dan, why he didn't make it happen earlier. As in, " agentleman never tells" (So says Drunk Dan. But I know where he was last night.)

Agency is not to be confused with "Asian tea" which can sound like "Agency" if you're drunk at the all-you-can eat sushi buffet like Drunk Dan was last night while he should have been proof reading my book for things  like spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, repeating things, redundancy, and other stuff, etc.

Point is, if you keep your eyes on the ball, and you stick to your guns, however small, and if you have any kind of work ethic at all, you can make you're dreams come true. Just make sure your dreams aren't too fancy. whence self publishing I Farted And Flew Out the Window.

Which brings us to the title of the book: I Farted And Flew Out the Window: A demonstration in the art of imaginative thinking and question answering. But be forewarned, what you read may shock you. It might even turn your world upside down. And it just might make you fly out the window.

So here's to thinking outside of the B.O.X. (banal office xerox)

Sincerely,

Chucky P. Bunson Berry

Saturday, August 27, 2011

A Nonchalant Little Miss Muffit Man, by Drunk Dan


This is Drunk Dan with a public service announcement. FREE DRUNK DAN!
The coppers nabbed the Dan this afternoon while I was chasing an enemy chipmunk through the park. Little piece of Alvin shit stole my last walnut. I know what yer saying. You're saying, "Drunk Dan, now what the hell are you doing running around the park chasing chipmunks and sparrows and the like in the middle of the afternoon? Don't you have a J-O-B?" Well fella, just so happens my J-O-B stands for Jogging Over Bushes. so, uh, yeah.

That's my problem with the millionaire crowd. They think just cuz you're not pulling in fat stacks of greenbacks that you're automatically a menace 2 society. They'll look at someone like Drunk Dan and roll their eyes way back into their top hats. They don't see Drunk Dan the classic rock guitarist, the generous sexual partner, the Schenectady Little Bowlers Champion of 1982, or the proud veteran. That's right, I fought in the War On Drugs for 14 long, harrowing, hazy, fun years.

But I don't do drugs any more. Matter of fact, I don't even smoke them. I just drink my beers and try to feel as good as possible with as little regrets as someone like me can make.

And when I get out of county lockup this weekend you're all gonna see someone a little taller, a little slimmer, and a little braver, because that's what the cocaine in county jail does to you. So I'm told. And who knows, maybe I'll find that little chipmunk digging out my walnut from beside a clover patch in the park. Only this time, instead of stripping naked and running while knocking people's sodas out their hands, I'll just waltz on over like a nonchalant little miss muffit man and say, "Excuse me, pal. But I believe you have something that belongs to me." And like a gentleman I'll tip my hat, and quickly show him my gun.

Who the fuck knows, ya know?

- Drunk Dan








Thursday, August 25, 2011

Nature's Candy, by T.D.



We here at Nature's Candy believe in wholesome food for kidz. But we also know that kidz like junk food. So that's why we make snacks that kidz love, in the shapes and colors of healthy food in order to fool their parents and other concerned adults.

Hungry on the go? Grab a handful of Carrot-Crunchumz! 100% real fucking candy corn in every bite. In the shape of carrots.

That's our only product so far. If you have any more ideas* please send them to:

THE DEVIL
666 Hellhound Lane
Suite 13A
New York, NY
Hell

*Other ideas previously sent in and subsequently rejected by Nature's Candy include human shit in candy bar form, a candy bar in human shit form, a "banana" made of butter,  Mike's Hard Lemonade, candy cigarettes that are actually real cigarettes, and vodka sold in water bottles, which sounds like a great idea except PLASTIC BOTTLES ARE BAD FOR THE ENVIRONMENT, PEOPLE.


- The Devil

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Two simple questions

What if rap singer/actor/producer Ice Cube had a mushroom haircut and out of that "mushroom" grew another mushroom? A real mushroom like the kind you find in fantasy land. Would a bee take his siesta on top?


And what about Climate Change? I for one believe in the theory of Rain Rain Go Away.

Perhaps the two issues are related. Ice Cube could do a Hip Hop Hooray and make it rain another day.
Just an idea. If anyone reading this happens to have intimate relations with Mr.Cube, please have him step into my office and we'll do lunch. Right here at my computer desk next to the stack of blank paper and the cool snow globe. (And while we're at it, maybe "Ice Cube" can tell me how they keep the snow in the snow globe from melting!) Doubt it.

CHUCKY BERRY

Friday, August 19, 2011

The Big House


The Devil made me do it. The Devil and the dog. The Devil, the dog, and Colonel Mustard in the dressing room. I got caught peeking and they blackmailed me. The Devil said, "If you don't steal that pie from Missus Pumpkin for us, we're going to...we're going to...We'll put a bomb in your shoe!"

Like I would fall for that! I'm not a fucking idiot. I haven't worn shoes since. Only boots and sneakers THANK YOU VERY MUCHO MR. ROBUTO.

So that's the way el cookie crumples, am I right friends? One day you're minding your own shitty business, peeping through all the secret rooms in a scary mansion, and the next day you're defending your actions in front of 40 Internet nazis such as yourselves (no offense.) but I just want to make this point extremely clear: I is not do what bad guy be. ME EQUALS ALWAYS NOT THAT.

Further more, moving forward, at the end of the day, when all is said and done, at this juncture, at this junction, not for nothing,  you gotta ask yourself: "What is it exactly that I'm trying to say here?"

The answer may surprise you. It may even give you a reverse wedgie.

I know it did for me. ; )

C.C.B.P.Berry

P.S. I just want to give a shout out to my homies, The Mouse That Ran the Clock, John the Elder Jr., Don  DeMafiarelli, and I can't forget my heart, my number one homie through thick and thin, Rufus Toothless. We'll miss you, girl.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Summer of '73

In the summer of 1973 the Schenectady Police Force faced their biggest pickle yet. A mysterious fiend began a terrorizing campaign against the city at large. "The Menace" was his nom de plume. Tre noir. Tre magnifique.

On the morning of June 13th  a full page ad appeared in the local Daily Newsie. It was an open letter addressed to the Chief of Police, Chief Cherokee Wrangler.

"Dear Chief Wrangler,
This letter is to inform you that I am going to chop everybody's balls off by SUNDOWN.
take care,
The Menace"

Wrangler certainly had a big wet pickle on his hands. The town was scared Christmas-less. At high noon he gave a press conference at city hall in front of a panicked audience. But the stage had been set for him.The Menace had somehow distributed fortune cookies across the downtown area with the message:

"Dear Chief Wrangler,
On second thought, I changed my mind. I will not chop everyone's balls off. Instead I will chop off YOUR BALLS. Plus everybody's dick. INCLUDING YOURS!
Take care,
The Menace"

It was at this moment when Chief Cherokee Wrangler gave his famous "Leads" speech as the rain fell hard on the humdrum town.

"We got to get this guy. Any leads?"

It certainly looked as though the good citizens of Schenectady were in a heap of pickles and meatballs and there was nothing the authorities could do.

Enter Dr. Herman J Kraft.

On the morning of June 21st 1973, as Chief Wrangler sat at his desk eating his curds and whey, a tall, gaunt, white-haired man knocked on the door. He wore a white lab coat over a tweed one-piece. On his pink face sat a pair of circular glasses round as the bottom of Coke bottles. His mustache was bristly like a broom that had been sweeping up salt and pepper, and such was an accurate description of it's color. This is what Chief Wrangler was thinking when the man walked in and introduced himself  as Dr. Herman J. Kraft, Professor of Psychology and Polylogics. "I did this last night" the Professor explained, as he pulled out a long document from the back of his pants. "It's for you."

           THE MENACE: A PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE, by Dr. Herman J Kraft.

          The subject is most likely a white male between the age of 13 and 113. He is a native of the area having grown up nearby and attended the local high school. He is somewhere between 100 and 600 lbs. He is single and "ready to mingle." He most likely enjoys the smooth taste of KING BUDDY beer when he gets home from a long day of fly fishin' n' crawdaddy diggin'.  He dyes his sideburns bright red. He reads 10 books a day. He is constantly constipated each week until Diarrhea Sunday.  He speaks 9 languages including English, German, French, Gailic, Garlic, Apache, Transylvanian, Pygmie, Robot, and French Cruller. He sings in a strong tenor that combines the smart folkiness of CSNY with the gospel infused funk-pop of Bobby Womack. He is a sophisticated keeper-upper with the times who frequently eats microwavable TV dinners and dresses in the finest of polyester garments. He gets over, Jack. And that ain't no jive! He lives in an apartment complex, or possibly a teepee or treehouse or enormous stone castle. His weapons of choice are the hand grenade, the poison dart, and the ninja star, not to mention nuclear missiles should he he get a chance to futz around with one.  He wears a chocolate gold medallion around his neck. He uses gummy bears as ear plugs. In all likelihood, he is a white belt in karate and shows a lot of promise according to Sensai Andy. He smokes reefer. His friend is a beaver named Mushroom Man.
He must be stopped.

As Chief Wrangler read on, moving his lips along with the words, voicing out the sounds of the words with his mouth,  Dr. Kraft walked to the corner of the room and took a shit (in his pants.)

"Pardon me Cheif, where's the restroom?"

But there would be no rest for this unlikely duo who would later be known as "the pair that held up."

To Be Continued...

Afterlog

In the next installment, entitled The Pair That Held Up, we see how life can often resemble a gift box of chocolate candies. I've always thought so. How about you, mom?

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

I'm going to get a tattoo of a buffoon!

Trust me, I'm new to this.

You can believe in me. I'm an expert in leadership. Now please, lead the way...

I know what you're thinking: This guy doesn't know what he's talking about. Am I right? Well then. I guess I knew what i was talking about all along.

One time I drank a gallon of prune juice. Needless to say....
....the Hudson river will never be the same again.




People like that make me sick! Needless to say....
....They're poisoning my food.

Andy Warhol was a dumbass.

Why do people always ask me 4 shit when my T-shirt clearly states not to?

I'm going to get a tattoo of a buffoon!

Plenty of fish in the sea. Plenty of dead bodies too.

"Well boys. I say we saddle up the horses and eat this corn." - From the great American Novel,
Underwater Munchkin Man Cowboy Riding a Seahorse, Eating Baby Corn.

"Say hello to my little friend...Now behold! I intend to shoot you with my firearm!" - Original scene from Scarface.

Check please! Is the funniest joke.

"People always ask me. What's it like to be Drunk Dan? Well buddy, it's like anything else. Practice makes perfect." - Drunk Dan



- CB '11