Santa Claus is a Queer

Okay, so you want a goddamn Christmas blog, you fucking provincial simpletons?  Well, I’ll give ya one, even though you don’t deserve it.  First of all, Santa Claus is a big fat stupid motherfucker and one day when I was a kid I sat on his lap and he got a boner.  He is a pervert and I’m goin up there to the North Pole after I save up enough scrap metal and I’m gonna cut his dick in half longways with a rusty hacksaw I found in the dump and put the dick in a hotdog bun and make him eat it.  Then I’m gonna shit and piss on him and stomp on his head until he dies.

Fuck Santa Claus.

Mellow Bedwetter

You know what this makes me think of? Them bags that fill up with blood when you give blood. I like watchin them fill up with blood. I like blood. I like it so much I give blood even though my present medical condition suggests I may be carrying Hepatitis A & C, I don’t know, I wasn’t listenin to the doctor because I was reading a magazine called “Woman’s Day” and had found the recipe that would change my life, the best SW Tangy Vegetable Dip recipe that was succulent, so succulent, and even though it was responsible for the end of my marriage I loved it more than sex.

Anyway, them blood bags make me think of my colostomy bag, which I throw at people like a water balloon and this is amusing to me. Bacon bits.

Please Don’t Let the Dog Chew Me

Once upon a time there was this fat sack of shit. The fat sack of shit was about thirty years old, but he had never even seen a naked woman, and he was so pathetic he was even too shy to go to a titty bar or a whorehouse or something, so he sat around his house eating ho-hos and jerking off and crying himself to sleep every night. He couldn’t stop eating ho-hos and he died, and he was so fat they couldn’t fit him in a coffin so they buried him in a refrigerator box. There is no god. THE END

Creedence Clearwater Retarded

Once there was this chick named Mildred Rump or somesuch, not that anyone cared. She was really hot and nice and smily and cute and she could have had her pick of all the dudes in her little Norman Rockwell hometown, which is like saying she could have chosen any brand of vanilla ice cream in the world.

Anyway, out of all those dudes in her hometown, she picked this clown named Arlen Gork who was a stupid asshole who wasn’t even good-looking and he treated her like dogshit and fucked other girls and screamed at her and beat the piss out of her and couldn’t hold down a job and she actually loved him.

Mildred loved Arlen Gork so much that she let him go on ruining her life right up until she was old and wrinkled and ugly, and then she got Alzheimer’s disease and Arlen Gork put her in a nursing home and she sat there pissing in her pants and talking to the TV set and singing along with the muzak on the weather channel and Arlen Gork didn’t even come and visit her and he found some other old lady who would cook for him and put up with all his bullshit and they went on living off Mildred Rump’s retirement. Then one day Mildred Rump drowned in a bowl of oatmeal. There is no god. THE END

Cowboy Bob’s Toothache

One day, Cowboy Bob woke up in a puddle of vomit under his favorite card table at The Bar with an exquisite throbbing sensation at the back of his filthy mouth.  His teeth had their usual morning coat of moss surrounding them, and, as he looked into the old mirror behind the bar at The Bar, he saw their yellow-brown crookedness was just as it had always been.

But one of them, far in the back, seemed to throb right along with his heartbeat.

“One of my teeth, far in the back, seems to throb right along with my heartbeat,” Cowboy Bob said to Gordon.

Gordon was snoring into a puddle of urine and spilled beer that may or may not have been his own.  His underwear were on his head.

“Bbbbblort,” said Gordon.

“You want your dirty underwear on your head?” Cowboy Bob said.

“Bbbbblort,” said Gordon.

Arnold Schwarzenegger, the bartender, had long since gone home and left Gordon and Cowboy Bob to sleep in squalor on the floor.

“Arnold Scwarzenegger, the bartender, has long since gone home and left us to sleep in squalor on the floor,” said Cowboy Bob.

“Bbbbblort,” said Gordon.

“Wake up, cunthole,” said Cowboy Bob.  Cowboy Bob commenced to kick Gordon in the ass.

After about an hour and a half, Gordon woke up, but by then, Cowboy Bob’s tooth hurt like a motherfucker.

“My tooth hurts like a motherfucker,” said Cowboy Bob.

“You’d better go to the dentist,” said Gordon.

“The door is locked,” said Cowboy Bob.

“I got it,” Gordon said.  He lowered his head and rammed into the door at full speed.  The door busted to bits.

“You busted the door to bits,” said Cowboy Bob.

They stumbled outside into the lovely yellowish glow of a duststorm.  Cowboy Bob untethered his horse, Jackass, fucked it, and then commenced to ride off into the dust to the dentist’s office.  Gordon went back in the bar, drank a whole bottle of whiskey, and vomited.  Then he drank another bottle of whiskey and vomited again.  Then he took a nap.

The Town’s only dentist, Dentist Leary, lived in a little wooden cottage just outside The Town, right between Rabbi Ahmed Hong-Wa Magillcuddy’s Temple and another building that was either a church or a slaughterhouse.

Cowboy Bob stomped into Dentist Leary’s office.

“My tooth hurts, Dentist Leary,” said Cowboy Bob.

Dentist Leary had Rabbi Ahmed Hong-Wa Magillicuddy in his chair and was busy cleaning his teeth with some sort of scouring pad.

“You have to make an appointment, Cowboy Bob,” said Dentist Leary.

“No I don’t, you tub of lard,” said Cowboy Bob.

Dentist Leary threw the scouring pad on the floor and stomped over to Cowboy Bob.

“All right, your tooth, hurts?  Well, I’ll pull it out for ya!”  Dentist Leary punched Cowboy Bob in the mouth.

“Ayakk!” said Cowboy Bob.  It hurt like a motherfucker, but goddamn if the sore tooth didn’t fall right out.

“Now get the hell out of here, you buttlicker!” Dentist Leary said.  Then he picked up the scouring pad and commenced to clean Rabbi Ahmed Hong-Wa Magillicuddy’s teeth with it again.

Cowboy Bob got on his horse, Jackass, and rode back to The Ranch.  Jimby and Jumby were busy massaging Enrico the Heifer when he got there.  Pap Jackass and Grandpa Wannabe were up in their barn loft, knitting and masturbating.

“Dentist Leary punched me in the mouth,” said Cowboy Bob.

Jimby and Jumby immediately stopped massaging Enrico the Heifer and went to grab their guns.

“Lets shoot Dentist Leary until he looks like one big bloody piece of Swiss cheese,” said Jimby.

“Yeah,” said Jumby.

The all rode back to Dentist Leary’s office, except for Old Man Young, who had to take a dump.

“Come on out, Dentist Leary,” Cowboy Bob called lethargically.  “We must duel.”

Dentist Leary came out and shot the gun out of Cowboy Bob’s hand.  Then he shot the hat off Cowboy Bob’s head.  Cowboy Bob bent over to pick up his hat, and Dentist Leary shot him in the ass.  Cowboy Bob fell in the mud.  The whole thing was just embarrassing.  Jimby shot Dentist Leary in the eyeball.  Dentist Leary kicked the bucket.

Sherriff Popooly came and put Jimby, Jumby and Cowboy Bob in the drunk tank for shooting Dentist Leary.

“You’ll stay in there until you find us a new dentist,” said Sherriff Popooly.

“They can’t find a new dentist in the drunk tank, buttchunk,” said Mayor McCheese.  Mayor McCheese kicked Sherriff Popooly in the face.  Then he let Cowboy Bob, Jimby and Jumby out of the drunk tank.

They went back to The Bar, where Arnold Schwarzenegger was busy fixing a new door.  A dude sitting at the bar just happened to be a dentist, Dentist DeMenace, and they beat him up so bad he agreed to go live in Dentist Leary’s old house.  Gordon vomited all over the new door and Arnold Schwarzenegger kicked him out.  Gordon cried.

THE END

The Return of Cowpoop

One day, Cowboy Bob was at The Ranch, giving Enrico the Heifer his daily spongebath, when Gordon, the town drunk, came clopping along on his pet donkey, Smallpox.

“Cowboy Bob!” Gordon bellowed from atop the grunting, braying Smallpox.  “Cowpoop has returned!  He is beating up people in The Bar and shooting up the place!”

Cowboy Bob jumped on his horse, Jackass, and rode off into town.  On the way, he found Old Man Young picking dandelions along the trail.

“Let’s go cut off Cowboop’s yeasty codpiece and glue it to his forehead,” Old Man Young said reflectively.  “Then he will be a unicorn.”

“Then we can cut off his buttcheeks with a rusty saw and make him eat them,” said Cowboy Bob.

When they got to The Bar, Cowpoop had chained Arnold Schwarzenegger to the wall and commenced to whip the shit out of him with an authentic Mexican bullwhip.  Ka-whack!  Arnold Schwarzenegger shrieked and bawled as the authentic Mexican bullwhip slashed three inches deep into his flesh, splitting his skin.  Big bloody hunks of meat flew from his back and splattered everywhere.

“Aaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwggggg!” howled Arnold Schwarzenegger.

“Cowpoop!” Cowboy Bob bellowed.  “Come over here and fight like a man, you fat, disgusting dickmouth.”

Cowboy Bob drew his pistol.  Cowpoop whipped it out of his hand with the authentic Mexican bullwhip.  Cowboy Bob screamed.  Cowpoop whipped the whip around Cowboy Bob’s neck and commenced to choke him.

Just then Old Man Young came in and pulled out his old rusty shotgun.  He pointed the old rusty shotgun at Cowpoop and pulled the trigger.  The old rusty shotgun blew up and burned all the hair off Old Man Young’s face.  Old Man Young commenced to scream as his blackened face melted from his skull.

“Arrrgh!” Old Man Young howled philosophically.  “My Old Rusty Shotgun done blowed up, and I can’t see jack shit!  I will pop your testicles for this, Cowpoop!”

“You’ll be poppin the Devil’s testicles down in the Kingdom of Hades, you filthy old pukedrinking puddle of armadillo piss,” Cowpoop said.  Cowpoop shot Old Man Young in the balls.  Old Man Young’s balls blew up like the firecrackers the Chinamen who lived in tents on the outskirts of The Town sold for a bargain, right along with Opium and Chinaman pussy.  Blood and jism and chunks of Old Man Young’s balls flew all over the place, and a stray dog commenced to eat chunks of Old Man Young’s balls and lick up his splattered blood and jizzum from the floor.  Old Man Young lay on the floor and screamed while he bled to death out of his ballsack.

Just then, Gordon came in with Jimby and Jumby.  They had heard shots and screams and whipcracks and whatnot while they off playing Pinochle on an old dry rainbarrel with Pap Jackass and Grandpa Wannabe and had come on the run.  They were covered in sweat and smelled like rubbish and armpits.  Gordon had urinated in his underwear and smelled even worse.

“I’ll kill ev’ry last one of you shitstained horse’s ass dungheap dickmouth fuckwad fagsters!” Cowpoop postulated effeminately.  He shot the hat off Jimby’s head.

Cowboy Bob shot Cowpoop in the ear.  Cowpoop’s ear blew off.

“YEEEEEEORRRRRMMMM!” Cowpoop said.  He forgot all about shooting the shit out of people.  He threw his gun down in the dirt and commenced to jump up and down with a hand over the hole where his ear used to be.  The sweet summer breeze made a sort of whistling sound in his head, and blood jetted from between his fingers.

“You shot me in the ear, you picker and eater of corn-shit kernels!” Cowpoop cooed.

“What’re we gonna do with him?” Gordon yelled over the ruckus.

“Shoot the shit out of him” said Jimby.

“Yeah,” said Jumby.

“Wait,” Cowboy Bob said.  “Tie him up.”

They talked it over and decided to do the moral thing and have him lynched without a trial.  So they tied him to a chair and sent Gordon off to get Sheriff Popooly.

“What are we gonna do about Old Man Young?” said Cowboy Bob.  Old Man Young was still conscious, having put a tourniquet around his genitals, and he was jittering and moaning.

“We’re gonna hafta put him out of his misery,” Jimby said.  “It’s the humane thing to do.”  Then he commenced to stomp on Old Man Young’s head.
Just then Gordon came back with Sheriff Popooly and Dr. Zaius.

“Don’t stomp on Old Man Young’s head!” Dr. Zaius grunted.

Sheriff Popooly came and put Cowpoop in the drunk tank and a stray dog ate Cowpoop’s ear and Dr. Zaius had to sew a piece of leather over the hole.  Old Man Young’s dick turned black and fell off from the tourniquet and Dr. Zaius took a finger off a cadaver and sewed it into his crotch half-assedly, but that eventually rotted and fell off, too, and to top it all off he had one hell of a headache.  Sheriff Popooly put Jimby in the drunk tank with Cowpoop and they buttfucked and then got into an argument and Jimby beat the shit out of Cowpoop.

“No shit packing or beating in the drunk tank, you assheads!” Sherriff Popooly gargled.

“Let Jimby out of the drunk tank, turdface!” Mayor McCheese said.  Mayor McCheese commenced to choke Sherriff Popooly.

Jimby left the drunk tank and rode Boobs back to the ranch, where everybody was drunk and playing checkers.  Gordon vomited all over the checkerboard and everybody beat him up.

THE END

Cowboy Bob Goes to the Old Folks’ Home

One day, Cowboy Bob was wandering around the town market, comparison shopping eggplants, when he saw Pap Jackass, his grandfather, moping around the marketplace in an undone bathrobe, his meaty old wrinkly crank dangling uselessly around his knees like the pendulum of a clock made out of taffy.  He was drooling.
“Pap Jackass!” Cowboy Bob called rhythmically.  “What are you doing here?  You’re supposed to be in the old folks’s home!”

Cowboy Bob’s brother, Jimby, and his twin brother Jumby came bounding around a stack of canteloupes they had been testing for jugglability.
“Pap Jackass is here,” said Jimby.
“Yeah,” said Jumby.
Pap Jackass went on drooling.  Then he tripped over a tumbleweed, stumbled, planted his left foot in a spitoon, and shrieked like a shitbird.
“We gotta get him back to the old folks’s home,” said Cowboy Bob.
“Then we should shoot the shit out of the people who run the place,” said Jimby.
“Yeah,” said Jumby.
Just then Old Man Young, an aged old gunslinger who lived in an outhouse no one used anymore on account of it was filled to the brim with excrement, wandered by.  He smelled like freshly-baked seabass rolled around a few hard-boiled eggs, covered in mayonaise and left out in the sun alongside a bloated, decaying woodchuck somebody pissed on.
“AAAARRRRRRGH!” Old Man Young said arrogantly.  “What the hell is Pap Jackass doing wandering around the marketplace with his meaty old ding-dong floppin’ around?”
“He got out of the old folks home,” said Jimby.
“Yeah,” said Jumby.
“Well, let’s take him back,” said Old Man Young.
They put Pap Jackass in a feedbag and strapped him to the back of Boobs, Jimby’s horse, and they all rode out to the old folks’ home.  Gordon sat on the back of Lardass, Jumby’s horse, and vomited on the back of Jumby’s head.  Jumby had vomit caked in his hair.  A sign above the door read: “The Old Folks’ Home.”
“All right,” Cowboy Bob said apathetically as he strode inside.  “Who’s in charge here?”
A weasly little rodent-looking man with buckteeth and an eyepatch came wandering out of some dark room where an old woman was screaming and blubbering about something.
“Don’t mind her,” the guy said romantically.  “She’s drowning in a bowl of oatmeal.”
“You need to take better care of the old folks,” Jimby said merrily.
“Yeah,” said Jumby.
“What do you guys want?” said the little weasely guy.  “You wanna put that old geezer in a room?”
“I’ll show you an old geezer,” Old Man Young said deliciously.  He shot the little guy in the gut.  The guy croaked.
They took Pap Jackass and Gordon’s grandfather, Grandpa Wannabe, out of The Old Folks’ Home and built a little room for them and Old Man Young to live in up in a barn loft.  Sherriff Popooly put Old Man Young in the drunk tank with Gordon, who was jacking off in one of the cots when they arrived.
“Don’t jack off in the drunk tank!” Sherriff Popooly yelled chummily.  Mayor McCheese punched Gordon in the gut.  Gordon vomited on him.
“Don’t punch Gordon in the gut!” Mayor McCheese said lucidly.  Mayor McCheese punched Sherriff Popooly in the mouth.  All his teeth was busted.  Mayor McCheese let Gordon and Old Man Young out of the drunk tank.
That night they all went out the bar and got drunk.  The bartender was bringing them their fifth pitcher when Cowboy Bob noticed something interesting.
“I notice something interesting,” said Cowboy Bob.
“What’s that?” said Old Man Young.
“The town does not have a name,” said Cowboy Bob.
“Neither does the ranch,” said Jimby.
“Yeah,” said Jumby.
“Neither does the bar,” said Gordon.
“Neither do I,” said the bartender.
They all got together and decided to name the town The Town.  They named the ranch The Ranch.  They named the bar The Bar.  The bartender named himself Arnold Schwarzenegger.  Gordon vomited all over the table and named the vomit The Vomit.

THE END