Napalm and Silly Putty (15 page)

You know what they ought to have? Motherfucker’s Day. The day after Mother’s Day ought to be Motherfucker’s Day. Actually, when you think about it, Father’s Day is Motherfucker’s Day.

Attention men: The dumb-looking shaved-head thing has finally played out. Try finding some other way of pretending to be cool and different.

In applying the stereotype that all old people are slow-thinking and dull-witted, what’s often overlooked is that many of these people were slow-thinking and dull-witted throughout their lives. At this point they’re simply older versions of the same unimpressive people.

My main operating principle: Don’t take any shit from the zeitgeist.

History is not happenstance; it is conspiratorial. Carefully planned and executed by people in power.

The mayfly lives only one day. And sometimes it rains.

You know what you never hear about anymore? Quicksand. When I was a kid, movies and comic books had quicksand all the time. What happened? Same thing with whirlpools. You never hear about some guy being sucked down into a whirlpool anymore. I miss that.

I think they ought to have black confetti. It would be great for funerals. Especially if the dead person wasn’t too popular.

If you really want to put a faith healer to the test, tell him you want a smaller shoe size.

You never seem to get laid on Thanksgiving. I think it’s because all the coats are on the bed.

In the United States, anybody can be president. That’s the problem.

You know how you can tell when a moth farts? When he suddenly flies in a straight line.

Do you realize that somewhere in the world there exists a person who qualifies as the worst doctor? If you took the time, by process of elimination you could actually determine the worst doctor in the world. And the funny part is knowing that someone has an appointment to see him tomorrow.

I often think of something my grandfather used to say. He’d tell me, “I’m goin’ upstairs and fuck your grandma.” He was a really honest man. He wasn’t going to bullshit a five-year-old.

Just beyond the edge of the solar system, in the Oort Cloud, there’s a swarm of about a trillion comets orbiting the sun. Let’s hope that right now one of them is turning slightly and pointing itself directly at Mississippi.

The police in Los Angeles said recently that some man had been stabbed in the San Pedro area. Believe me, I know how painful that can be; I was once bitten there by a dog. It’s especially painful when you go to the bathroom.

Doesn’t Jonesboro sound to you like a place where everyone has a drug habit?

? HYPERLINK “file:///E:\\Documents%20and%20Settings\\Dom\\Desktop\\1791_NapalmSillyPutty%5B1%5D\\Napalm_body-contents.html” \l “TOC-58” ??DOG MOMENTS #4 ?

Gimme a New One

I love my dog. I love all my dogs. Every dog I ever had, I still love ’em. And in my life, believe me, I have had me a bunch of goddamn dogs. Because you keep on gettin’ a new one, don’t ya? It’s true. As life goes on, you keep gettin’ one new dog after another. That’s the whole secret of life. Life is a series of dogs.

Sometimes you can get a dog that looks exactly like the one you had before. It’s true. If you shop around a little, you can find you a dog identical to your former dog. You just bring the dead one into the pet shop, throw him up on the counter, and say, “Gimme another one of these.” And, by God, they’ll give you a carbon copy of your ex-goddamn dog. And that’s real handy, because then you don’t have to go around your house changin’ all the pictures.

That’s the nice thing about dogs. They don’t live too long, and you can go and get a new one.

Doggie Nose Best

Most people know the best size dog to have is a knee-high, midsize dog. It’s the ideal pet. Because whenever some nice lady comes to visit you, the first thing that dog does is put his nose right in her crotch.

“Hi, Mrs. Effington.”

“Hi, Stuart, how’s the . . . oooooh! Ooooooh! What a friendly dog. Oooohhhh! You know, I’ll bet he smells my dog.”

“I’m not sure, Mrs. Effington. Judgin’ by where he’s placed his nose, I’d say he’s got a completely different animal in mind. You don’t by any chance own a pussy, do ya?”

“No. I mean . . . well, no!”

Some people get embarrassed by that nose-crotch behavior. The dog owner will often fall all over himself trying to save face.

“Stop that, Bongo! Stop it! I’m awfully sorry, Marzell. He’s usually so polite. You musta not bathed.”

Not me, folks; I never apologize. I’m a fun-lovin’ guy. I say, “Get in there, Bongo! Get yourself some of that. Sniff it out. Listen, Marzell, would you mind spreadin’ your legs a little bit, so he can get some sniffin’ room? Plant your feet about three feet apart, would ya? That’s it. Good. Air that thing out. Okay! So, how’s everything goin’ down at the church? Good. All right, Bongo, now go around back and sniff that other thing. Sorry, Marzell, there’s two smells he likes, and one of ’em’s in the back. What’s that? You gotta go? Well, I’m awfully sorry. Listen, before you go, you wouldn’t be willin’ to let Bongo have about thirty seconds on your leg, would ya? No, I didn’t think so. Okay, no problem. You take care, and tell the reverend Bongo says hello.”

Those dogs are really great. They help to break the ice when a new neighbor comes to call.

“Hi, we’re the Belchingtons. Ooooooh! What’s his name?”

“Ballsniffer. He’s a crotch hound. Lemme know if you wanna get circumcised; he’s on duty ’round the clock.”

Give the Little Dog a Big Hand

When they show a dog on TV, do you try to get your dog to look at him? Don’t you want your dog to see the dog on TV? I do.

“Look at the doggie! Look at the dog! Over there! On TV! Look!”

He won’t look. Even if you try to twist his head around and point it toward the TV, he won’t look.

“Over there! Turn your head! Look! On TV! Look at the dog! Goddamn it, you asshole! Look at the fuckin’ dog!!”

They never look where you want. If you point at something, they just stare at your hand. You try to show them something interesting, and they think you’re showing them your hand.

“There he goes again, showing me his hand. Why does he do that? I guess he’s really proud of it. Uh-oh! Now he’s twisting my head around. Owww! Jeez, what did I do now?”

“Well, for one thing you completely missed the dog on TV.”

A Cracker Jack Meal

A long time ago I had a little dog named Tippy. And one time when I was doin’ drugs, I fed Tippy a whole bunch of Cracker Jack, because that’s what I was havin’. Cracker Jack and tap water. Seemed like a reasonable meal to me. And even though Tippy was a little dog, she ate about two boxes of Cracker Jack. And the next day, when I took her out for a walk, she squatted and strained and grunted and shook, and you know what? By God, instead of taking a shit, she took a Cracker Jack! Right in front of my eyes I saw fully formed, undigested Cracker Jack coming out of my dog!

Well, you know me, I’m a practical guy. I kept waitin’ for the little surprise to come out, hopin’ it wouldn’t be a whistle or a bird call. I figure there’s a certain amount of basic hygiene you can’t ignore.

? HYPERLINK “file:///E:\\Documents%20and%20Settings\\Dom\\Desktop\\1791_NapalmSillyPutty%5B1%5D\\Napalm_body-contents.html” \l “TOC-59” ??NOT EXACTLY MARTHA STEWART ?

Did your dog ever eat a whole bunch of brightly colored balloons, and when he took a shit it turned out to be real festive looking? Or maybe at Christmas he’d eat some tinsel off the tree and take a dump near the manger, and it would glisten with light from the yule log, filling your heart with Christmas spirit? Isn’t it great?

Dogs are a constant source of entertainment. Did you ever have a dog who ate cat turds? Some of them do. Some dogs will eat cat turds. Of course, you gotta have a cat; you can’t be goin’ down to the supermarket and buyin’ cat turds.

But it’s true. Sometimes a dog will eat cat turds. Don’t let him lick your face that day. Get him a bottle of Listerine, and make him gargle. Pour it down his throat and tell him to howl. Then you can let him lick you.

One more thing about dog chow, and this includes a little household hint that’ll help you keep your lawn neat and clean. Feed your dog rubber bands. Just mix ten or eleven rubber bands in with his food. He won’t care. He’ll eat anything as long as it’s mixed in with something he likes.

Feed him a bunch of rubber bands, and then when he takes a shit, you’ll notice there’s a handy little rubber loop stickin’ out of one end of the turd. Then, all you gotta do is pick up the loop, swing that turd around, and throw it in the next yard. Tell your neighbor it’s a new thing: flying lawn food.

? HYPERLINK “file:///E:\\Documents%20and%20Settings\\Dom\\Desktop\\1791_NapalmSillyPutty%5B1%5D\\Napalm_body-contents.html” \l “TOC-60” ??HAVE A NICE DAY ?

I don’t have nice days anymore. I don’t bother with that. I’m beyond the nice day; I feel I’ve outgrown the whole idea. Besides, I’ve already had my share of nice days. Why should I be hogging them all? Let someone else have a few.

Naturally, everyone still wants me to have one. Every person I meet wants me to have a nice day. Especially clerks.

“Have a nice day.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You wanna gimme my fuckin’ change, please? I’m triple-parked!”

Some of them are really insistent.

“I said have a nice day! Do it!”

“All right, all right! I’ll give it a shot.”

That’s the trouble with “Have a nice day.” It puts all the pressure on you. Now you have to go out and somehow arrange to have a positive experience. All because of some loose-lipped clerk.

Have a nice day, indeed! Maybe I don’t feel like having a nice day. Maybe—just maybe—I’ve had twenty-seven nice days in a row, and I’m ready for a crappy day. You never hear that, do you?

“Have a crappy day!”

“Why, thank you. Right back at ya! And to your wonderful family as well!”

A crappy day; that would be easy. No trouble at all. No planning involved. Just get out of bed and start moving around.

I think what bothers me most about the whole “nice day” thing is that word “nice.” It’s a weak word. It doesn’t have a lot of character. Nice.

“Isn’t he nice? He is so nice. And she’s nice too! Isn’t that nice? How nice they are!”

I don’t care for it. It’s like “fine.” Another weak word.

“How are you?”

“Fine.”

Bullshit! Nobody’s fine. Hair is fine.

“How’s your hair?

“Fine.”

That makes more sense to me.

Some guys are “great”! You ever meet those guys?

“This is great! Isn’t this great? Goddamn, this is great! Look, they’re gonna kill that guy! Isn’t that great?”

Not me. I’m not nice, I’m not fine, I’m not great. People ask me how I am, I don’t give them any superlatives; nothing to gossip about. I tell them I’m “fairly decent.” Or “relatively okay.” I might say, “I’m moderately neato.” And if I’m in a particularly jaunty mood, I’ll tell them, “I’m not unwell, thank you.”

That one always pisses them off. Because they have to figure it out for themselves.

? HYPERLINK “file:///E:\\Documents%20and%20Settings\\Dom\\Desktop\\1791_NapalmSillyPutty%5B1%5D\\Napalm_body-contents.html” \l “TOC-61” ??HELLO-GOODBYE ?

We have so many ways of saying hello. Howdy, hi there, how are ya, how ya doin’, how’s it goin’, how do ya do, what’s new, what’s goin’ on, whaddaya think, whaddaya hear, whaddaya say, whaddaya feel, what’s happenin’, what’s shakin’, que pasa, what’s goin’ down, and what it is?

You know my favorite? “How’s your hammer hangin’?” That’s a good one, isn’t it? Doesn’t work too well with women, though. Unless you’re talking to a lady carpenter. Then it’s perfectly acceptable.

I’ve always wanted to use that one on a high church official.

“Good evening, Your Holiness. How hangs thy hammer?”

So far, I haven’t had the opportunity.

There’s one form of saying hello that bothers me. It’s when a guy says, “Are they keepin’ you busy?” It’s like he thinks someone has the right to come around and give me odd jobs.

Whenever a guy says, “Are they keeping you busy?” I always tell him, “Well, your wife is keeping me pretty busy!” And that seems to hold him for about a half an hour.

Of course, we also have many ways to say good-bye. Bye-bye, so long, see you later, ta-ta, be cool, take it easy, stay loose, hang in, take care, and keep on truckin’. You know my favorite? “Don’t get run over.” Well, I find some people need practical advice.

Occasionally, someone will say to me, “Have a good one!” I just laugh and say, “I already have a good one. Now I’m looking for a longer one!” And that seems to hold them for about a half an hour.

Then there are all the foreign ways we say good-bye. Some people when they leave you, they think they have to get fancy. They whip an “arrivederci” on you. Or an “au revoir.” Some guys say, “adios.” Or the American version, “Adios, motherfucker!”

In Hawaii they say, “aloha.” That’s a nice one. It means both “hello” and “good-bye.” Which just goes to show, if you spend enough time in the sun you don’t know whether you’re coming or going.

Do you ever get in a rut with your manner of saying good-bye and find yourself using the same phrase, over and over? And you begin to feel a little stupid?

For instance, if you’re leaving a party, and you have to say goodbye to five or six people standing in a group, you say, “Okay, hey, take it easy. Okay, hey, take it easy. Okay, hey, take it easy. Okay, hey, take it easy. Okay, hey, take it easy. Okay, hey, take it easy.” And you feel like a goddamn moron.

You know what I do? Every month, whether I need to or not, I change the way I say good-bye; I start using a different phrase. People like that. They notice that little extra effort. They’ll say to me, “Pardon me, but didn’t you used to say ‘Okay, hey, take it easy’?”

And I say, “Yes I did. But not anymore. Now I say, ‘Farewell! Farewell, till we meet again. May the forces of evil become confused on the way to your house!’” That’s a strong one, isn’t it? People will remember you if you talk like that.

Sometimes, for a joke, you can combine several ways of saying good-bye that don’t seem to go together. Like “Toodle-oo, go with God, and don’t take any wooden nickels.” Then people don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.