Napalm and Silly Putty (19 page)

Take a shit

Fuck a bishop

Get engaged

Kill my fiancée

Eat a pig

Marry a pig

Kill the pig

Eat the pope

Vomit

Go to sleep

? HYPERLINK “file:///E:\\Documents%20and%20Settings\\Dom\\Desktop\\1791_NapalmSillyPutty%5B1%5D\\Napalm_body-contents.html” \l “TOC-74” ??FAMILIES WORTH LOATHING ?

Are you sick of this “royal family” shit? Who gives a fuck about these people? Who cares about the English in general? The uncivilized, murderous, backward English. Inbred savages hiding behind Shakespeare, pretending to be cultured. Don’t be misled by the manners; if you want to know what lurks beneath the surface, take a look at the soccer crowds. That’s the true British character. I’m Irish and I’m American, and we’ve had to kick these degenerate English motherfuckers out of both of our countries.

But most Americans are stupid; they like anything they’re told they like. So when the duke and duchess of Wales or Windsor, or whatever, visit America, and people are asked if they like them, the simpletons say, “Yes, I like them a lot. They’re sort of fun.” If they asked me I would say, “Well, I’m Irish, and they’ve killed a lot of my people, so I wish they’d die in a fire. Maybe someone will blow up their limousine.”

The English have systematically exploited and degraded this planet and its people for a thousand years. You know what I say? Let’s honor the royal ladies: Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mum, Margaret, Fergie, and all the rest. Let’s give them the hot-lead douche. Get out the funnel, turn them upside-down, and give them the hot-lead douche. Right in their royal boxes. That’s my message from the IRA to the English.

And I’m really glad the black, tan, and brown people of the world, fucked over by the English for so long, are coming home to Mother England to claim their property. England is now being invaded by the very people she plundered. They’re flying, sailing, swimming, and rowing home to the seat of Empire, looking to the Crown: “Hey, mon! What about de food stamps?”

? HYPERLINK “file:///E:\\Documents%20and%20Settings\\Dom\\Desktop\\1791_NapalmSillyPutty%5B1%5D\\Napalm_body-contents.html” \l “TOC-75” ??WHERE WAS I STANDING LAST TIME WE DID THIS? ?

When Britain returned Hong Kong to China there was a long, formal ceremony. The whole thing looked well-rehearsed, and I wondered how everyone knew exactly where to stand and what to do. After all, the event had never taken place before; how could there be a set of procedures? Do the British have a manual on returning colonies? If so, they won’t be needing it much longer.

I notice the same thing is true when a pope or king dies.

The elaborate funerals involve at least thirty or forty groups of participants, each with different roles and different garb, and each of whom seems to know exactly where to walk, when to stop, and where to stand. And everyone knows all the songs and prayers by heart.

Can someone tell me when these people practice all this pageantry?

? HYPERLINK “file:///E:\\Documents%20and%20Settings\\Dom\\Desktop\\1791_NapalmSillyPutty%5B1%5D\\Napalm_body-contents.html” \l “TOC-76” ??LIFE’S LITTLE MOMENTS ?

Do you ever look at your watch and immediately forget the time, so you look again? And still it doesn’t register, so you have to look a third time. And then someone asks you what time it is, and you actually have to look at your watch for the fourth time in three minutes? Don’t you feel stupid?

Do you ever find yourself standing in a room, and you can’t remember why you went in there? And you think to yourself, “Maybe if I go back where I was I’ll see something that reminds me. Or maybe it would be quicker if I just stand here and hope it comes back to me.” Usually as you’re weighing those options, two words float across your mind: “Alzheimer’s disease.”

Do you ever have to sneeze while you’re taking a piss? It’s frightening. Deep down you’re afraid you’ll release all sorts of bodily fluids into your pants. What people don’t realize is that it’s physically impossible to sneeze while pissing; your brain won’t allow it. Because your brain knows you might blow your asshole out. And wind up having to repaint the entire apartment.

Have you ever noticed how sometimes all day Wednesday you keep thinking it’s Thursday? Then the next day when you’re back to normal, you wonder, why don’t you think it’s Friday?

Have you ever been sitting on a railroad train in the station, and another train is parked right next to you? And one of them begins moving, but you can’t tell which one? And then it becomes obvious, and all the magic is gone? Wouldn’t it be nice if we could spend our whole lives not knowing which train was moving? Actually, we do.

Do you ever fall asleep in the late afternoon and wake up after dark, and for a moment you can’t figure out what day it is? You actually find yourself thinking, Could this be yesterday?

Did you ever tell someone they have a little bit of dirt on their face? They never rub the right spot, do they? They always assume the mirror image and rub the wrong side. Don’t you just want to slap the bastard?

Have you noticed that when your head is on the pillow, if you close one eye the pillow is in one position? But when you switch eyes the pillow seems to move? Sometimes I lie awake for hours doing that.

Do you ever reach the top of a staircase and think there’s one more step? So you take one of those big, awkward steps that doesn’t accomplish anything? And then you have to do it a few more times, so people will think it’s something you do all the time. “I do this all the time, folks. It’s the third stage of syphilis.”

The 10 Most Embarrassing Songs of All Time

1. I Gotta Be Me

2. My Way

3. I Write the Songs

4. That’s Life

5. Let Me Entertain You

6. Hey, Look Me Over

7. You’re Gonna Hear From Me

8. Impossible Dream

9. I Will Survive

10. If They Could See Me Now

? HYPERLINK “file:///E:\\Documents%20and%20Settings\\Dom\\Desktop\\1791_NapalmSillyPutty%5B1%5D\\Napalm_body-contents.html” \l “TOC-77” ??SHORT TAKES ?

People often say, “That’s a fine how-do-you-do,” when deep in their hearts they know it’s really only a fairly good how-do-you-do.

I’ve noticed there’s such a thing as disposable douche. And I wonder Why would someone want to keep that stuff in the first place?

When I was young I used to read about the decline of Western civilization, and I decided it was something I would like to make a contribution to.

Have you noticed when you look in the top drawer of someone’s desk there are always a few pennies in the pencil tray? I take them.

In a package of bacon, underneath all the neat horizontal strips there’s always one oddly-folded piece that seems to have been thrown in at the last moment.

You rarely see one oat all by itself.

The best thing about living at the seashore is that you only have assholes on three sides of you. And if they come at you from the water, you can usually hear them splash.

Although it’s untrue that rubbing a toad causes warts, it does give the toad a hard-on.

We will never be an advanced civilization as long as rain showers can delay the launching of a space rocket.

THE POPE WEARS LOAFERS

I never worry that all hell will break loose. My concern is that only part of hell will break loose and be much harder to detect.

What is all this dinner-and-a-movie shit? Why can’t people just go somewhere and fuck for three or four hours?

In restaurants where they serve frog’s legs, what do they do with the rest of the frog? Do they just throw it away? You never see “frog torsos” on the menu. Is there actually a garbage can full of frog bodies in the alley? I wouldn’t want to be a homeless guy looking for an unfinished cheeseburger and open the lid on that.

I hope no one asks me to show them the ropes; I have no idea where they are. Maybe I could pull some strings and find out.

If you practice throwing the discus alone, you have to go get it yourself.

It’s fun to go into the hospital room of a terminal patient and whisper to him, “Hang on. We’re working on a miracle drug. It’ll be ready in about five years.”

I really don’t care if we have a nuclear war as long as I can get some French fries.

I’m one of those people who hope Elvis Presley is really dead. Buddy Holly too. “The day the music died,” shit. As far as I’m concerned, it was the day the music got better. All those guys did was steal and water down black music to make it safe and easy to digest for fearful white kids. Here’s a toast to all the great black artists who got ripped off by no-talent white thieves.

One thing nice about being dead is that you immediately become eligible to appear on stamps and money.

Cat’s thought: “I sure could do with a nice rat.”

Oxen can be trained to genuflect and whistle softly in the moonlight.

Have you ever noticed the escalator handrail and the thing you’re standing on don’t move at the same speed?

You know what you rarely see? A ninety-three-year-old guy workin’ on his résumé.

I don’t mind government regulation, but requiring people to wear helmets during intercourse is a bit much.

Whom does a male ladybug dance with?

Did you ever notice that apparently the Lone Ranger and Tonto never got their laundry done?

I pray each night that someday on a single afternoon, several major news stories will break within a few hours of each other. I would love to see two 747s colliding above Times Square, the president and vice president getting assassinated, Iran and Israel having a nuclear exchange, the Dow Jones dropping 8,500 points, and California having an earthquake measuring 13.7. It would be fun watching the news channels try to cope with it all. And you know what would really be fun? Reading the newspapers for the following few weeks.

I know a transsexual guy whose only ambition is to eat, drink, and be Mary.

Not Much to Do Dept.: Someone has actually gone to the trouble of determining that Columbus, Ohio, has the best-dressed police force.

Here’s how you get rid of counterfeit money: Put it in the collection plate at church.

I don’t understand the problem some people have with paroling Charles Manson. I say set him free and let him get on with his work. I have a long list of celebrities I’d be glad to share with him.

When people say “clean as a whistle,” they forget that a whistle is full of spit.

? HYPERLINK “file:///E:\\Documents%20and%20Settings\\Dom\\Desktop\\1791_NapalmSillyPutty%5B1%5D\\Napalm_body-contents.html” \l “TOC-78” ??ORGAN DONOR PROGRAMS ?

I’m not too enthusiastic about this organ donor idea. What bothers me most is that it’s run by the Motor Vehicles Bureau. I figure if I have to wait in line that long for a kidney, fuck it. I’ll do without.

They send you a little card you’re supposed to carry in your wallet next to your driver’s license. You’re supposed to list the organs you’re willing to donate in case you die. Are these people crazy? Do you honestly believe that if a paramedic finds that card on you after an accident he’s gonna be trying to save your life? No way! He’s lookin’ for parts.

“Look, Sid! Here’s that lower intestine we’ve been hoping for. Never mind the CPR, this man’s a donor!”

Fuck that. If these people want something of mine, they can have my appendix. That’s it. That’s all I’m giving. Put it in the cooler and get the fuck outta here.

Plugging Along

And don’t go pulling any plugs on me, either. That’s another bunch of macho bullshit floating around. People talkin’ about, “Aw, just pull the plug on me. If I’m comatose? Lyin’ there like a vegetable? Just go ahead and pull the plug.”

And I say, FUCK YOU! LEAVE MY PLUG ALONE!! Get an extension cord for my plug! I want everything you got: tubes, cords, plugs, probes, electrodes, IVs. You find I got an orifice that’s not bein’ used, stick a fuckin’ tube in it. Vegetable, shit! I don’t care if I look like an artichoke. Save my ass!

If you ever find out I’m comatose just remember there are three things I gotta have: ice cream, morphine, and TV. Give me that ice cream about every two hours; give me that morphine about, oh, every ten minutes; and turn on the fuckin’ TV!! I wanna watch Survivor!

And don’t be comin’ to visit me, either. I got no time for live people. I’m brain-dead, here. Ain’t you people got no respect for the brain-dead? Hey, you gotta be brain-dead to watch Survivor! in the first place; you might as well watch it when you’re clinically brain-dead.

Now, one more thought concerning this comatose stuff. This might come in handy someday. If you know a homosexual who is comatose, remember, you can always comfort his family by saying, “Look at it this way, folks. He was a fruit, now he’s a vegetable. At least he’s still in the produce section.”

? HYPERLINK “file:///E:\\Documents%20and%20Settings\\Dom\\Desktop\\1791_NapalmSillyPutty%5B1%5D\\Napalm_body-contents.html” \l “TOC-79” ??ON THE BEACH: THE MOVIE ?

It is said that just before you die your life flashes before your eyes; especially if it’s a sudden death. It’s like a little personal movie of your own. But it doesn’t make sense to me. Mathematically, how would it work?

Let’s say you’re swimming at the beach, you get caught in a riptide, and it pulls you out to sea. You panic and begin swallowing water. Since you’re about to die, the flashback movie begins to roll.

It seems to me that if it’s really a flashback of your entire life, you’d have to watch the whole thing, and that would include the ending. Which means seeing yourself arrive at the beach, walk into the surf, start to drown, and have the movie start all over again. Therefore you’d have to watch it a second time, which would include arriving at the beach, walking into the surf, and . . . you get what I mean? Thanks to the flashback, you can never die. The movie runs forever.

? HYPERLINK “file:///E:\\Documents%20and%20Settings\\Dom\\Desktop\\1791_NapalmSillyPutty%5B1%5D\\Napalm_body-contents.html” \l “TOC-80” ??“I COULDN’T COMMIT SUICIDE IF MY LIFE DEPENDED ON IT” ?

So Little Time

Whenever I hear that someone has committed suicide I wonder one thing. Not Why did he do it? or What was he thinking? I wonder, How did he find the time? Who has time to be running around committing suicide these days? Aren’t you busy? Don’t you have things to do? I do. Suicide would be way down on my list. It would come much later, for example, than setting my neighbor’s house on fire. Believe me, I would have to work suicide into an already very crowded schedule. I’d probably try a little self-mutilation at first, just to get started. See if I like the general concept.