A man I knew once said that “I’m the cock and the walk, baby”.  Then man grew up to be Christopher Walken.  He also said a lot of other things but some of them I couldn’t understand because he kind of mumbled and slurred his words a bit.  This trait made him even more endearing.  Let me tell you about the time Christopher Walken saved my life.

My toilet stopped flushing.  Sorry.  That is a lie.  My toilet continues to attempt to flush every time I command it to do so but it’s efforts are thwarted by some sort of plumbing malfunction.  That’s better.  Just want to make sure we are on the same page.  Try as it might, the toilet will fill with water but not able to release the fecal/piss discharge into the pipes of my house.  The water ends up on my bathroom floor.  The turds sometimes do as well.  I did the only reasonable thing to do at the moment and I kick the toilet.  Nothing dislodges in the pipes though my toilet dislodges from my floor slightly.  Now a constant flow of water seeps onto my floor and onto my slippers.  Drat!  I do the next reasonable thing and call a plumber.  He arrives later that day and analyzes the situation.  I tell him what happened and he gets to work.  I retire to the drawing room to go over some documents concerning some of my recent acquisitions and I hear a shout.  The plumber found the cause of the clog and was holding it against his squishy chest.  “How dare you sir!  How dare you flush a squirrel down the toilet.  I’ll have you know that I am the president of the local chapter of PETA and I will not stand for such behavior.  Prepare to defend yourself.”  A few things went through my head at that moment.  1) A squirrel in my toilet?  What the fuck.  2) Does this guy really think I would flush a squirrel down the toilet?  I have seen a dead squirrel used from a lot more useful things besides flushing. 3) Prepare to def…  I was interrupted by a slap in the face from a latex glove.  Apparently plumbers wear them now out of concern for hygiene.  How nice.  The plumber brandishes some tools and attacks me.  Violently attacks me with wrenches and other tools of his trade.  I arm myself with the nearest weapon I have access to; the plunger.  Of course it doesn’t take long for the plumber to get through my defenses and brain me with his wrench.  I go down hard.  All woozy and shit I can feel myself being dragged in some direction and can hear some muttering to the tune of “I’ll flush you down the crapper.  Then you’ll see.  Bees.  Zizzle zuz buzz flush.”  I am pretty sure the last part was a result of the blow to my head and face.  I am unable to mobilize myself to appropriately prevent my flushing but I am able to grab the cell phone out of my pocket.  I hit the contacts button and then send without even looking.  Not sure who I will get but I hope somebody answers.  I hear a greeting and blurt out.  “Help me!  My plumber has attacked me and I am afraid I will be dead soon.  Please grant me some assistance before I…..” The plumber smacks the phone out of my hand and I am drug down the hall.  A moment later I hear my front door splinter and someone running up the stairs.  I will not ever forget the next words I hear.  ” I think you may need to call a plastic surgeon because I am about to remove your fucking face.”  Thank the heavens it was CW (Christopher Walken from such films as The Rundown and Blast from the Past).  I wonder for a moment while CW frees me from the clutches of my aggressor how I managed to phone him of all people.  I see CW bent over the plumber and I hear a lot of grunting.  I think to myself “Of course.  He’s the first contact on my list”.  See, people I know whose name’s start with A get a “Sexy like an otter” attached so they appear further down my alphabetical contact list.  People with a B at the beginning of their name get “Fucking douche bag” preceding their actual name.  And then there’s Christopher Walken.  By the time I am through processing the circumstances that led to my release, CW has finished his work and cleaned the blood and matter from his fine looking track suit and offers me a hand up.  CW apologizes about the mess and assures me he’ll have some people come over and take care of everything.  He adds a wink to keep me at ease.  I thank Chris and he glides away to his home next door.  As he is drifting he shouts “I know a plumber that can fix anything.  I’ll have him stop over after the mess is cleaned up.  Oh, I may be to blame for the problems you are having with your plumbing.  I felt a bit sick at the party you invited me over for awhile back.  I entered your very accommodating bathroom and vomitted a squirrel into your toilet.  It’s a new diet I am one.  Some sort of new age macro shit.  I’ll take care of the bill.”

Oh that Christopher Walken.  He can be such a card.

So I think a lot about how I would be if I were a different person.  Allow me to share.  If I were a realtor I’d be a one that only sold crack houses because people need a place to smoke their crack with confort.  If I were a doctor I’d specialize in tonsil removal because I think that would be pretty dang easy and not that gross.  If I were gay I’d be disco gay.  If I were a lumberjack I’d be a gay one.  I guess that would make me a gay disco lumberjack.  I think I could pull it off.  If I were a scientist I’d study fires and how we as people of the earths can use fires for good and not evil.  If I were a terrorist I’d use hugs as my weapon.  I’d aggressively hug people.  Violently hug the crap out of folks.  Nobody would be safe.  Men, sure.  Women, oh yes.  Children, yeah put not in a creepy way.  They’d get hugged where they least expect it.  On the bus or at the grocery store.  I’d just pop out and hug the fuck out of them.  Then I’d send a letter to some media outlet so I could properly claim the hugging.  “It seems that today’s horrendous hugging has been claimed by the SotNLoTS (Scrib of the Nation Liberation of Turds Squardron).  Two women and their children were viciously hugged while they were on their way to a birthday party that was being held in a church in a small town in a rural state of the US.  More news at 11.”

If I were a hypnotist I’d do shows at old folks homes and make them think they were dogs in heat.  Then I’d leave.  But not before I saw a little old action.

If I were an astronaut I think you know what planet I’d explore.  Thoroughly.  Every wrinkle and pucker.

If I were a lady I’d be infatuated with my breasts and intimidated and unsure about my vagina.

If I were a guy who could do whatever he wanted I’d blog every single word I uttered throughout the day.  Though if I was a guy who could do whatever I wanted that would mean that I was either very rich or invisible.  If rich then I would record every word I uttered and pay someone to type it out.  If invisible then I wouldn’t have much to type since part of being invisible is the necessity of being very quiet.  Either way it works out.

If I sold drugs I would only sell illegal drugs.  I like living on the edge.

If I bred dogs I would breed only purebreds.  I’d cross-breed species of dogs so I could name them myself.  All species of my newly created dogs would have names that started with Uterine.  “Oh look at this wonderful Uterine Palmrod.  I hear that this species of dog is especially adept at crotch sniffing.  How wonderfully delightful!”

Oh hi.  I have a new pet.  It’s a Uterine Bass.  It’s really slimy though.  I can’t give it hugs or do much of anything with it.  It just sits there and watches me and makes sure I don’t screw anything up.  I bought it from the pet fish man.  Apparently it’s quite rare due to where they are found.  I bet you guessed that I am about to tell you where Uterine Bass are found.  Well I am.  They are found in the Uterine region of Sweden.  Only the most sexy fish are found in Sweden.  Believe what I tell you because you have no reason not to.  You have no experience with Uterine Bass nor are you a fish doctor.  Maybe you should research it.  Research everything you can find on Uterine Bass.  Research all frickin’ week and I bet you will come up with nothing.  Why is that Scrib of the Nation?  (That’s what you will be thinking).  I’ll tell you why.  That’s how frickin’ rare they are.  That is what the pet fish man told me and he told me he has no reason to lie to me.  I trust him with all my fish pets.  Waaaaa.

Ba da ba ba ba.  I’m lovin’ it!

Fuck yes I am.  My colon is oh so clean.  I’m in my happy time cool hole I just dug.  I got my best cougar down here and we are radiating the sexitude.  We were going to play our sexiness down a bit today but then we were like fuck it.  Let’s crank this bitch up to 11.  And we did.  And we are.  I heard on the news that the earths’s orbit has changed and we are now gravitating towards the planet Venus.  You know, the sexy planet.  Due to my sexitude?  No.  NASA is wrong.  I am gravitating the earths towards Uranus.  ANd I think you know what I mean.  The naughty, dirty little planet that isn’t for everyone.  Only for those adventurous enough to plunder that planet’s sex treasures.  That’s what I intend to to my friends.  We’s goin’ to Uranus and we are going to have a swell time.

Just imagine me in Uranus….  Let’s back it up a bit and go slow.  Imagine me approaching Uranus.  I’d be going all fast and shit with extreme sex fuels and I’d come barreling right for Uranus.  But right when I come in close proximity to Uranus I’d throttle back.  Play things cool and enter the atmosphere gently.  I don’t want to seem to eager to get into Uranus.  Just like “hey, I was nearby and thought I’d pop in”.  So  I’d nestle up real soft on your anus.  Maybe send out some test signals to see if it’s cool to even be on Uranus.  When I get the all clear light then I’ll start to move in.  Start to slowly work my way into Uranus.  I know there’s bound to be some sexy treasures in Uranus and I am about to blunder the booty.  So slow at first but then once things become smooth sailing I really explore Uranus and all it’s cracks and crevasses.  I’d just hammer away at Uranus and get the job done ASAP before I get warning signals telling me that I had been there for too long and things have become uncomfortable in a manner of speaking.  I’d burrow and gouge my way into Uranus until I find the treasure.  The honey pot if you will.  Once found I’ll extract immediately and depart from Uranus’s atmosphere.  More than likely I’ll leave some debris on the surface but that can’t be helped.  With a delicate procedure such as entering Uranus you need to utilize some methods that tend to leave some residue and some trace that you had been there.  After I leave Uranus I’ll take a nice happy nap on my return trip to the earths.

I love Uranus so much.  I look forward to visiting again.  I don’t for see that happening in the near future unless I get you drunk again.

IT’S A FUCKING POST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH

I slam the door (BOOM!) when I come into the bedroom.  Wham bam cuz I’m the king of the castle.  I have been watching Heroes lately on the DVDs and have been thinking about super powers.  I thought about people who have super powers.  Like stretchy guy and loud screamer lady and fireworks lady and frozen guy and smelly disappearing purple guy.  I thought about what sorts of super powers I should have.  I’d like to be super fast saran wrap guy.  I’d run around people and stuff and wrap them up in saran wrap.  They couldn’t move and I would win.  Or I could wrap up a bridge or a building to preserve it’s integrity and prevent it from collapsing on babies or old people holding animals.  But I’d let the building fall on British children.  Or a bridge.  I wouldn’t save the British children.  No, not the British children.  THough I would save children.  Would sran wrap stop bullets?  If there was enough of it, yes.

Fuck teleportation.

Hey.  Ten minutes.  Go!

ALong the Honduras river exists a tribe that believes that all life on this earth is a direct creation of a dirt god.  This god ruled over the universe which was a vast plain of dirt.  Barren and dusty, the god would stroll along and observe the uniqueness of all his patches of various types of dirt.  The god became interested in combining his dirts and use his magical power limbs of magic to create things from the dirts.  Thus the creation of the things on the earths.  There were people and animals and plants and they all survived by harnessing the dirt’s nutrients.  There was no water.  Yeah, no fucking water.  Imagine drinking a big cup of dirt.  Or eating dirt sandwiches.  Or wiping your ass with dirt.  You get the point.  Shit sucked.  The dirt god’s creations became agitated because they hated being dirty all the damn time.  The approached the dirt god, whose name was Archie, and asked him to create something not so fucking dry.  Archie wept and his tears became lakes and rivers and oceans and streams and seas and ponds and creeks and swamps and pools and water falls and stuff.  Archie left his creations because he felt like they totally hated him.  The creations were so happy with the water that they didn’t notice the dirt god’s absence.  They swam and bathed and drank and peed in the water.  They were pumped.  Then some intergalactic alien jerks came to steal the water.  The creations didn’t have any weapons because Archie didn’t think to make any.  The alien jerks stole almost all the fucking water before Archie heard the cries of his creations.  Archie came to them and smote the mother fucking aliens with a dirt cannon.  In his rage he smashed the universe and we now live on a chunk of it that we call the earths.  We got all the water and we are the surviving creations of the dirt god.  The early creations built pyramids in honor of Archie and his gifts he gave to them.  Then the dinosaurs came and eat the people that survived the earths creation.  After awhile a few people who survived the dino invasion procreated after the meteors killed the dinosaurs and now we are here with the internets and cars and space travel and tupperware.  Ain’t shit grand.

So the tribe worships still the dirt god.  They still eat dirt and bathe in dirt and use dirt to wipe their asses.  It is believed that they are the direct descendants of the people left after the dino invasion.  It is also believed that the tribe is absolutely fucking retarded.  With all the inbreeding that had to occur early on, how can you not be retarded?  Dudes doing their cousins and such.  Plus you would have to be retarded to eat dirt and drink dirt and bathe in dirt and all that when you have modern conveniences.  Thank the dirt god for Big Macs.