I Did It! I Humiliated the NFL into Capitulation

Risking almost certain legal action in the form of a cease and desist order, I defaced the vaunted NFL Shield and humiliated those billionaire, yambag-sagging to their knees owners into doing the right thing.

Posted yesterday, and with over a dozen views, both Charles Barkley and Aaron Rodgers gave me props in tweets, sent out soon after the announcement. I expect thanks from all you NFL fans in the form of sexual favors, everlasting friendships or everlasting gobstoppers.

Where is Roger Goodell?

Where is Roger Goodell?

The NFL is a joke. The owners are pulling a Romney, making everyone miserable to save $3.3 million.

That's the equivalent of 3.3 cents to an NFL owner. Woody Johnson doesn't bother to bend over to pick up 3.3 million dollars. It's not worth the effort. Jerry Jones? He fell asleep at halftime, and he, in theory, lives in Dallas where it wasn't midnight.

Roger Goodell earns $20 million a year to do nothing. See, I told you that the NFL owners consider it pocket change.

So, where is Roger Goodell?
Hiding under a really, really big pile of money.
Sexting Mrs. Seau.
Holed up in a love shack with Robert Craft and Ricki Noel Lander.
Shredding all the proof linking pro football to traumatic brain injury.
Lighting the owner's Cuban cigars with 1,000 dollar bills while they take turns buggering him.
Fiddling while Rome burns.
In negotiations, with Archie Manning, trying to get him to impregnate his wife.
Spooning a drooling Jerry Jones.
In the ESPN chapel, tebowing Golden Tate.

Hopefully, I will add punchlines that are actually funny. I'm calling in the Replacement Writers to take over. Any ideas?

That's the 2nd Most Exciting E-mail I've Ever Seen

I got an e-mail from that guy.

It said, and I quote "Wanted to know if you had some time this week or next to discuss working together." Mr. Skin wanted to work with me! Finally, my singular talent was being recognized. I would spend the rest of my life getting paid for doing something I truly love, looking for glimpses of naked chicks.

Strangely, the e-mail was not from MrSkin@MrSkin.com, it was from BobJohnson@MrSkin.com. I fired off a reply stating that I would only discuss my future career with the actual Mr. Skin. Bob Johnson's e-mail came back surprisingly quick. In Mr. Skin's world, "working together" meant hosting some banner ads on one of my sites, CircusAfterDark.com -- a site that the bean counters at Mr. Skin identified as having "Lots of Hot Celeb content and highly targeted traffic."

I held back the tears. Crushed, I informed Mr. Johnson that CircusAfterDark.com got about 50 visitors a day. At the current click-through pay rate, I estimated that I could expect a $5 check from Mr. Skin in about 300 years.

The first naked boobies I ever saw on TV was on local Channel 9 in NYC. It was an accident. Someone forgot to cut the nude scenes out of an old movie shown late at night. It was the greatest 5 seconds of my life. My friend Rick spent the next five years scanning the TV Guide every week for the movie and amazingly, the nude scene kept popping up until inevitably, years later, the censors got busy censoring.

For an extremely rare, UncleMelon.com How to Eat Pussy t-shirt* name the movie and the owner of the aforementioned boobies.

* Readers of the blog PoundTheBudweiser and members of their family are not eligible for this contest.

Throwback Thursday - Receiving a Major Award

In 1976, at the Humboldt County Fair, Best Buggering - Ewe.  I keep it next to my Peabody, Emmy and Booker in the box in the storage unit.

I know what you're thinking, that's one fine-looking velour windbreaker. I still wear it on chilly nights.  And yeah, I daddy warbucked Little Often Annie behind the pig racing venue.  Sadly, Britney Spareribs did not join in the fun.

Star Wars Mashup

My Star Wars mashup. It is not gay despite what my brother says. For you Who aficionados, that's the late, great John Entwistle's pee stain.

Glory Days - Books I Writed Part XIII

More books from the box in my mom's attic.

The Dork That Could Fly, 1997.  A sequel to the highly regarded 20th Century Fox film of 1986, The Boy That Could Fly. High School guidance counselor Harvey Peckerman learns the secret of flight by waterboarding that "autistic" troublemaker. Harvey chooses to use his flying ability for good including partying with a Marylin Monroe drag queen and banging the cute, curly-haired girl from the movie who is now over eighteen and legal in all 50 states.

Made Fun of her 10th Grade Art Project, 2003. Myrna was the girl of my dreams. She was gorgeous, smart, a great little cook and a whore in bed. What a dame! Everything was perfect until I made fun of the bust of Julius Caesar she made back in public school.

Too Much Mascara, 1989. When this horrible war was over, I was gonna take her back with me to Kansas, get hitched, and make us a family -- just like my daddy did and his daddy before him. But Sgt. Flint was never gonna let that happen. He didn't think the problem was Mabelline. He thought Sue Lee was a Jap, a dirty Jap spy. One of us was going back to the States in a box.

Japan Cheats at the Olympics and I Give Up on the Olympics, Again

That's the most memorable image from NBC's telecast of the olympics last night. The Japanese Gymnastics Delegation bribing appealing to the judges that their scores be raised so that they can win silver medals. Do you see that pile of yens that the coach is giving the judges?  Don't worry, NBC assured us that this standard operating procedure when bribing appealing to a gymnastic judge.

That's Kohei Uchimura completing a beautiful "Flair to a Handstand to an Almost Break Your Neck" dismount from the pommel horse.  The photo doesn't capture the grace and strength that Kohei-san brought into our living rooms -- seriously, Mr. Bean could have done a better dismount. And if Rowan Atkinson was on the Japanese Gymnastics team, the pile of yen may have been bigger but the medals would still have been silver.

That's the cutest cheater in Olympic history,  Kohei Uchimura, relishing the rewards of an appeal well done. Cut to Bob Costas thanking us for joining him.

Why didn't the British team appeal their scores?  Why didn't the Ukrainians appeal their scores? Why doesn't every gymnast that has ever fallen off an apparatus appeal his or her scores?  Let's ask Bob Costas. Oh, wait, he's cut to another commercial.

It's not only the obvious, amateurish (not in a good way) bullshit of changing scores after the fact so that a favorite team can win medals that has forced me to turn off the olympics for good, again.

It's also NBC.

Bob Costas might as well be hosting The Bachelorette.  Every second last night was carefully manipulated by the network. Remember, it all happened five hours early.  NBC producers carefully cut tape, changed sequencing and added drama before every commercial break. 

The adorable, freckled-faced Ukranian gynmast that cries when he finds out that the Japanese have stolen his medal? Let's cut away from the hapless Americans for 30 seconds so that we can show him not fucking up a routine around 9:30 PM.  The bushy haired cutie pie cheater from Japan?  Give him some time earlier in the hour so that we can really, really hate him when it counts.

Why don't I like the olympics?  For the same reason I don't like Say Yes to the Dress, The Bachelorette or Whose Sleeping with a Kardashian.

Why do the olympics get such great ratings? Same reason Say Yes to the Dress, The Bachelorette, and Whose Sleeping with a Kardashian make a ton of money for their respective networks.

But Bob, it ain't sports. And this sports fan is going back to baseball.

Glory Days - Books I Writed Part XII

More books from the box in my mom's attic.

Junk Yard Whores: No Blondes Allowed, 2000 -- Cute and perky Annika Svenson moves to town to fulfill a lifelong dream.  The other girls are mean because they are jealous of Annika's blonde hair. Hilarity and soliciting ensue.

Even Baby Jesus Can't Untangle the Christmas Lights, 1994 -- The Callahan family asks Baby Jesus to untangle their Christmas lights. Baby Jesus tries His best but even with His considerable super powers He just can not do it. Baby Jesus gets frustrated, has a feeding and then falls asleep in the arms of Mrs. Callahan. God bless us all, everyone.

Nancy the Nympho in The Butcher, The Baker and the Candlestick Maker Wear Out a Rubber, 1992 -- A novel with a title so long, the printer left off the last word due to budget constraints.  This was the forty-seventh Nancy the Nympho Classic Adventure I penned and it's one of my favorites. I got to use the term buoyancy chamber which sounds cool.

Glory Days - Books I Writed XI

More books from the box in my mom's attic.

Saved By A Shark, 2000 -- After she is tossed overboard by her two-timing, millionaire boyfriend, Cindy is saved by a Great White Shark.  The shark carries Cindy in his mouth all the way home to Kennebunkport. Then he eats the boyfriend.  Cindy sets her orphaned shark free to roam the world's oceans with a kiss on the nose. Roger Ebert wrote in the Chicago Sun-Times, "I haven't cried this much since I had to sit through Born Free."

Hugh Hefner: Outer-Space Marine, 1995 -- A misguided attempt to get a novel serialized within the pages of Playboy and get myself venerealized within the walls of the Playboy Mansion.

White Men Can't Jump, 1991 -- Sgt. Gary "The Pure" Gallafan's only desire is to remain chaste for his fiancé, 43-year old virgin Christine O'Donnell. The horny denizens of the Island of Lipstick Amazons only desire is to perform sexual favours for Gary, over and over again. Will Sgt. Gary be able to jump the three foot fence standing between almost certain pleasure and his freedom?  Here's a hint. He's white.

Throwback Thursday - My First Date

Recently discovered photographic evidence of my first date. No, it was not also my last date.

If memory serves, her name was Cheryl, she was the daughter of my mom's co-worker and that's the closest I got to her all night.

I believe she smelled good and looked satiny.

Carmelo Anthony and Stephen A. Smith

Is Stephen A. Smith just Carmelo Anthony's bitch?   Or has he become the new Pedro Gomez?

At ESPN, it's all about the access, my man!

Carmelo Anthony and Jeremy Lin

Carmelo Anthony and Jeremy Lin

Willard "Mitt" Romney: King of the Rats

Mitt is not Mitt Romney's real name. His real first name is Willard. Willard Mitt Romney.

Everyone knows that Willard is the guy that sleeps with rats. And talks to rats. And caresses rats gently as he plots his revenge on all those that are not incredibly rich, or Wall Street Scumbags Rats, or have teased him about his hair and his love of rats.

Why did Mr. and Mrs. George W. Romney name their youngest son Willard?

Wikipedia would have you believe that Willard "Mitt" Romney was named after hotel magnate J. Willard Marriot, one of his father's closest and poorest friends.  But we know who controls Wikipedia, don't we? No, not the Jews. Please, try to concentrate. That's right, the Scientologists...  or the Mormons. Same difference, they both hate women, worship in strange and unusual ways and secretly blow washed up movie stars while they sleep.

Willard Mitt Romney is the King of the Rats. The rats do his bidding. When he speaks to the rats, the rats obey. We have no evidence concerning actual rodents but rats with two legs? Rock solid sources. Just ask all the regular folks fired when the Rat King was running Bain Capital.  

The investigative journalists at PtB may not be very well paid, and they may not be very good and they may not be journalists but they are thorough and think about toupées a lot.

Have you ever seen Willard "Mitt" Romney without his toupée?  Neither have we.  So, in an effort to keep our investigations complete, we had one of our interns fire up the photoshop and defrock Mr. Romney -- with frightening results.

Great Scott!  The plot thickens.

Put yourself in poor Mitt Romney's sh... Ouch, that's not just an oxymoron that's an oxy-unfuckingbelievable! Okay, put yourself in young Mitt Romney's shoes. Yes, I know that you, me, and the State of Mississippi can't afford his shoes but it's called empathy. Try it. You Republicans can sit this one out. I don't want you to hurt yourselves.

Mitt or Willard. Flip or flop. Pretentiously ridiculous or smothered with bubonic plague. Poor, little rich boy.

*Yes, I noticed that Mitt Romney only lets the white rat sit on his shoulder. Let's not jump to conclusions.

Glory Days -- Books I Writed Part X

More books from the box in my mom's attic.

John Cardinal O'Farrell and the Amazing Girl-to-Boy Serum, 1995 -- Deep beneath the Archdioceses of Greater Boston, in his secret laboratory, our hero, John Cardinal O'Farrell perfects his amazing serum -- despite the meddling antics of the evil, heterosexual government agent, Capt. Larry "The Lutheran" Lawrence.

 

You're Gonna Need a Bigger Spear, 1986 -- Sadly, my best selling book to date. Set during the idyllic summer of 1963, on the beautiful, unspoiled beaches of North Carolina' s outer banks, it's a rollicking celebration of the love of an octopus and her best boy.  No beavers were opened wide for this novel.

Commie Commie Bang Bang, 2003 -- When the KGB steals a magic car invented by Professor Caractacus Potts, Dick Van Dyke gets to work on his less than believable English accent and a Berwick Street strumpet/hooker named Truly Scrumptious.

Glory Days -- Books I Writed Part 9

More books from the box in my mom's attic.

Dr. Hasbro and the First Barbie, 1991 -- The evil Dr. Hasbro kidnaps the first Barbie model from ace toy designer Matt Mattel and uses her to compensate for the inadequate size of his penis when he takes photos for his Facebook page.

Elaine! Benjamin Braddock Zombie Hunter, 2000 -- Recent college grad Benjamin spends his days lounging in his parent's pool and his nights fighting zombies. When he shows up uninvited at his true love's wedding, he's a mess.  Is it from running all the way from Beverly Hills to Santa Barbara or has the hunter become... a zombie?

Van Der Graaf Zap-ellin, 1990 -- Back when steam was what heated my fourth floor walk-up and punk was the guy Clint Eastwood had a problem with, I wrote this proto-cool story while high on three tablespoons of nutmeg and half a bottle of Aqua-Velva Blue. Tennis cutie Steffi travels the country in her tricked out van with Scott Baio and me and the always horny Ellen Barkin

Glory Days -- Books I Writed Part 8

More books from the box in my mom's attic.

Beach Blanket Berlin!, 2001 -- Eric Von Zipper, the leader of the Malibu Rat Pack Biker Gang, joins the American Nazi Party, kidnaps all the guys and brings them to Berlin for a PR stunt that causes quite a führer.

Congressional Blonde, 1994 -- Elle Woods wants her chihuahua, Bruiser, to reunite with his mother, because she would like Bruiser's mom to attend Elle and Emmett's wedding. Elle hires a detective to find Bruiser's mother, only to discover that the company that has her dog's mother is a cosmetics company that uses Bruiser's mother for cosmetic testing. She finds out that her law firm represents the C'est Magnifique Corporation. Elle decides to leave Boston, where she and Bruiser have settled with her fiancé Emmett, and go to Wahington, DC to work on Bruiser's Bill. Elle is upset that her dog's mother is in a make-up testing laboratory, and decides to take it upon herself to be the "voice for those who can't speak" and to outlaw animal testing. While working for Congresswoman Victoria Rudd, Elle is met with skepticism and other barriers common to Washington politics. Rudd's member of staff, Timothy, sarcastically calls her "Capitol Barbie." After a variety of ups and downs including a failed attempt to improve her work environment by having her co-workers write compliments about one another and place them in the "snap cup", Elle starts to lose her faith in Washington politics. As the story moves along, Elle discovers that Bruiser is actually a homosexual, after she is paged by "The Paws that Refreshes: A Doggy Day Spa." Bruiser has been affectionate with Leslie, a Rottweiller owned by Congressman Stan Marks, the Chairman of some committee which has jurisdiction over Bruiser's Bill. Elle also finds that Congresswoman Libby Hauser, the Ranking Member of the same committee, was a member of Delta Nu. As a result, both Marks and Hauser warm to Elle and eventually come to support Bruiser's Bill. Elle also discovers that Congresswoman Rudd has actually been working against her. So Elle becomes a lobbyist and sleeps with a bunch of fat, bald, smelly congressmen. The End.

It Gave Her Head In More Ways Than One, 1990 -- Golem shacks up with a hot, redheaded witch and forgets all about that stupid ring.

Glory Days - Books I Writed Part 7

More books from the box in my mom's attic.

C-3PO Takes a Wife, 1994 -- After significant reprogramming and the addition of a few extra parts, mild-mannered C-3PO embraces the Barbarian lifestyle. George Lucas was kind enough to write the forward.

I Married A Gal With No Nipples, 2000 -- A moving tale of an illegal alien that is forced to bottle feed her offspring. Made into a movie starring Mike Myers that went straight to video, I still get an occasional residual check.

Nancy Goes Too Far, 1993 --When Ronald sees Arnold's economics trickling down Nancy's thigh, he goes all Irancontra on his ass.

Glory Days - Books I Writed Part 6

More books from the box in my mom's attic.

Lawn Doctor in the 21st Century, 1994 -- Dr. Chuck Chemlawnowitz, Ph.D. battles crabgrass and thatch armed only with his trusty raygun.

Tarzan and Paris Hilton Do Vegas, 2004 -- Paris Hilton is along for the ride when Tarzan heads to Vegas for a showdown with Cheetah who has gone pimp turning Jane into a two-bit call girl while I prove once again that I can write a book without a single comma.

Waiter, There's a Fly in My Pussy, 2000 -- A beautiful story about a girl and the arthropod she loves.

Best Matzo Balls Ever

The best matzo balls I've ever eaten are made by my grandmother, Nana Melonosky. They are light as cumulus clouds with a deep flavor and an "al dente" bite. On a recent visit to Brooklyn, I spent a few glorious hours in my Bubby's kitchen making the perfect bowl of Passover matzo ball soup.

Leaden versus fluffy? Nana has a strong opinion. She reminded me that a hard-centered matzo ball killed my Uncle Murray Mazer back in 1987. An autopsy revealed that a leaden matzo ball had become lodged in his colon, causing "blockage and such pain, you shouldn't know from." Carbon dating traced the ball back to April 1957. The dried parsley and club soda identified my Aunt Sheila as the most probable suspect.

I asked Nana if her secret was club soda.

"Uch! That farshimmelt idea wasn't new in the 50's. Drek mit leiber. Come tatelleh, let bubby show you how to make the best matzo balls ever."

So that you may serve your family a bowl full of love and deliciousness during the coming holidays, I have translated my Nana's pinches of this and handfuls of that into a recipe you can duplicate in your home.

Nana's Perfect Passover Matzo Balls

Preparation Time: 6 hours

2 cups all purpose flour
1 cup matzo meal
4 eggs separated, whites beaten to soft peaks
A shmear of chicken schmaltz (rendered chicken fat)
1/2 cup finely minced white onions (use a grater)
1/4 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon pepper
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

1. In a large bowl combine all ingredients except the egg whites and onions.

2. Carefully fold in the egg whites.

3. In a large frying pan render down 1/2 pound bacon, preferably wood-smoked. Discard bacon. Cook the onions in the bacon fat until translucent. Add everything to the bowl and barely combine.

4. Refrigerate for 3 hours or overnight.

5. Fill your biggest pot with water and bring to boil. With wet hands, form the mixture into the size and shape of one of Natalie Portman's pert breasts. Put gently in the pot. Repeat. Cook for 45 minutes.

Serves: 6 hungry bulvans, 4 drowsy alta kockers, 3 gentiles, and 4 kvetching yentas with their "Uch, can I get a half a ball, bubbellah? They go straight to my hips and no carrots, they give me gas."

I was shocked when I saw Nana use the flour and the bacon. Nana explained, " The goyim know a thing or too about making dumplings so I borrowed some ideas. The flour lightens up the matzo balls. You add matzo meal to water, whatta you get? You get concrete! Good for making pyramids, not so good for fluffy matzo balls. And the bacon? What isn't better with bacon?"

I asked her about keeping Kosher, especially during Passover. Nana gave an argument worthy of a Talmudic scholar, "Everyone starts out being good but by the third day? Enough with this matzo already. If you're gonna cheat anyway, why ruin a perfectly good seder? As Rabbi Jose, the Gallilean said, "What they don't know, won't hurt them."

Given that this is my Jewiest post ever I'm providing my non-Jewish readers with a Yiddish glossary.

Bubby - grandma
Farshimmelt - confused, mixed up
Drek mit leiber - shit with liver
Tatelleh - little father, affectionate
Schmear - dollop
Shmaltz - in this instance, chicken fat
Alta kocker - literally, an old shit or old fart
Bulvan - man built like an ox
Kvetching - complaining
Yenta - gossipy female
Uch - oh my
Bubellah - sweatheart usually used for grandchildren
Goyim - gentiles
Leybikhe - lioness



A younger Nana Melonosky looking like the star of "The Leybikhes of Grossingers." No comments about her sexy feet, please.

Cell Phones in Bathrooms: A Question for Miss Manners

I just walked into the bathroom at work. It was empty except for a guy talking loudly on his cellphone. I bellied up to the urinal and began unzipping. The guy was talking business to a woman. The woman's voice was almost as loud as his. This was a formal business conversation. It was not his wife/girlfriend/co-worker/buddy.

I decided to relieve my bladder. He paused. He had heard me come in for sure but hadn't missed a syllable. Now that I was urinating, I sensed some hesitance but he started talking again. It was obvious that he was pretending to be in his office.

I let it flow.

For those of you who do not frequent public men's rooms, the shape of a urinal acts like the design of a fancy opera house. The sounds resonate clearly all the way to the back row. Business guy seemed flumoxed by the gushing sound of a water main break. His delivery got less smooth.

Still, he pressed on. I was thinking, "Close the deal, man." The needle on my bladder was approaching zero.

I shook off, tucked it away and zipped up. I grabbed the handle and paused. To flush or not to flush? I could have walked away quietly assuming that business guy would tidy up for me after he was done. I could have said, "Excuse me I'm about to flush maybe you want to cover up that phone."

I decided to flush.

What should I have done, Miss Manners?

Armless Man Feeds Giraffe his Foot

Another Post Courtesy of the Huffington Post - I kid Arianna Huffington when I see her in Pilates class but her site does supply an endless assortment of crap for my blog.

Tom Villis, an armless San Diego-based motivational speaker, was photographed feeding a giraffe his foot. When asked why he fed the giraffe his foot at the world famous San Diego Zoo, Tom replied, "What was I supposed to feed him? I've already fed him both my arms."

Tom's wife Meryl said that they were saving Tom's penis for dessert.

Actual Huffington Post story here.

Glory Days - Books I Writed Part 5

More books from the box in my mom's attic.

Torpedo to Ecstasy, 1995 -- Water nymphs need love too.

A Rouladen the Hay, 1998 -- Books with German puns were publishing gold in the late 1990's. This one had a fräulein that was kleiner in the hippsen and grossen in the tittsen. And Nazis.

She'd Kill for a Maxi-Pad, 2002 -- Ever come home from work with the milk, the take-out Chinese and a box of Light Days (for use with light flow during the first and last days of her period)? Don't.

Sarah Palin is a Cow in a School Uniform

in Finland.

If you go to the Finnish Google, and type "cow in a school uniform," you get a photo of Sarah Palin from my blog. Why?

And why are SO many people in Finland looking for a cow in a school uniform today? No one was looking yesterday. I'm thinking that it might be Dress Your Cow in a School Uniform Day in Finland -- which would be pretty cool.

Throwback Thursday - Old Skool Skateboarding

Me, gleaming the cube, on my ass.