On Living Vicariously

This is how my father introduces me to my step-mother's brother-in-law:

"He just graduated from college…"

"Oh, that's g--"

"AND while he was there he saw more pink than the Easter Bunny."

"…"


Now, I'm always one for a good turn of phrase, but let us be a bit clearer on some of the specifics here.

1) I never speak to my family of anything even approximating my love life. Barely even my social life in general.

2) I speak to my father even less, about anything.

3) I haven't even seen a live vagina in over a year.


Granted, I've spent the past 18 months as a mortuary assistant and that last one was a fluke, but the point stands. My father lies about me to his friends right in front of me. No, he's not disappointed, not at all.

On Growing Older

I can tell I'm getting older. Tonight I swapped the lava lamp in my room for a regular one.

I still squirreled it away in my closet, but to fir that I had to throw out my busted up life-size Chewbacca standee.

OH THE TRAGEDIES OF TIME'S ADVANCE.

On Writer's Block

I find that if you have an overabundance of creative energy it's best to just masturbate furiously several times a day until a consistency of desirable mediocrity is reached.

Otherwise you might just have to express yourself.

On G4 T.V.

So I was watching G4 T.V. and it's convinced me that I deserve my "15 megabytes of fame."

I'm a little angry I only get 15MB. My G-Mail gives me 7 gig. I'm gettin' fucking gypped on celebrity because my mom keeps sending me fourteen slide shows of kittens each week.

So yeah, I'm angry about that, but really I'm more angry that I'm such a nerd I watch G4 T.V. now.

I figure I can get laid if I break 16MB.

On The Lottery

I played NYS Lotto this week.

I'd had a particularly magical day, and as numbers popped into my head I said, "Fuck it," and layed down a dollar for some pink paper, much in the same way that real money gets converted into Pounds, Euros, and whatever the fuck kind of queer-eye money they have in Brazil.

So tonight rolled around and I checked the numbers and sure enough I hit 2 of them. Now as far as I know this means I won precisely squat, but I was thinking about the odds and I'm a little impressed: about a 1/3080 shot of hitting any 2 numbers. As far as I'm concerned, I quantified my awesome magical luck powers on level 6.5 or 7 as being equivalent to guessing 2 of 6 lotto numbers.

My prize? Two pink pieces of paper.

Guess I have to dial it up to 11 to make the big bucks.

200th Blog Post!

I think it's a little unfair a woman can bring rape charges against a man just because last night she was too drunk to have standards.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying women shouldn't be allowed to wake up and say, "Oh, hey, I got raped last night….Bummer." Men should just be given the same latitude. I think you'd find a sharp increase in the number of morbidly obese inmates in women's prisons.


Yes, my 200th entry was a big sexist fat joke. Thought about doing something special and poignant, extra intelligent and possibly greatly thought-provoking but I figured "Why ruin a good thing?"

Meatus

Meatus - (me-ay-tus) n. The soft tissue opening of the male urethra at the tip of the glans penis; pl. meati?

1. A wonderful word to make in Scrabble when all you have is U-S and someone thought it'd be clever to lay MEAT perpendicularly two spaces away from a triple-word score, thus preventing MEATY, MEATS or MEATIER from snagging the prize.

2. A wonderful word to lay down because someone will instantly challenge it and feel embarrassed when they look it up and read what it is.

3. A very poor word to lay down when playing with your grandma.

On Being White

Whenever I see an interracial (read: white+black) couple on television my first thought is never, "Oh, how progressive," it's "I can't believe they're actually willing to show an interracial couple on this channel. Weird."

My second thought is then, "Shit, I hope no black people see me looking like I'm proud of this because they can't possibly think I am for the right reason."

If it's a black guy with a white woman my third thought is how loose and fucked out she must be.

More Nerdy Pick-up Lines

#673 - "Are those space pants? Because you can pee in those."

#416 - "That hilarious t-shirt looks really good on you. I bet it'd look even better double-bagged in a hermetically sealed display case next to my lightsaber replica and a signed copy of Action Comics No. 1."

#326 - "Tell me, how do you get into your pants? I mean really. I don't know."

#667 - "Are you an angel? Because I could swear I was on the 4th moon of Iego."

#257 - "If I told you you have a beautiful body would you email me a pic with your face in it?"

#521 - "I'm huge in base-4."

#398 - "Find f"(u) when y=3/2(u^3)•c•k where c and k are both real constants of unknown quantity.

#1 - "I don't care what my mom thinks, I'm getting a lock for my bedroom door."

Geek Pick-Up Line #382

"Baby, if I could rearrange the alphabet I'd put U and I together … but Q can go fuck itself."

I'm sick and this seems funny in my delirium

Nerd Pick-up Line #464:

"Do you work at CERN? Because my large hadron wants to collide with you."

Of Inappropriateness

Is it wrong to wish the new iPod Touch came out earlier so I'd have something to do at a funeral next week?

It is?

Well is it still bad to read a book? What if the book is James Joyce and I'm reading his short story The Dead? Is that just bad taste or highly apropos?

What if I wander off from the main ceremony to sit upon a stout tombstone with my jacket open and leg up, holding Joyce in one hand and clasping my wrist with the other, nonchalantly musing over the fickleness of life and the preposterous concept of the American family?

Really? Even then?

…

Well fuck me.

On-The-Job Experience

Working children's clothing retail is probably the only place where it's accepted to have your hands down little girls' pants all day.


*Fun Fact: Krusty the Klown was right when he said at one time "pants" wasn't a word for polite company, though it was actually several hundred years prior to the invention of the television. "Pants" was considered quite vulgar, while "pantaloons" was preferable.

In Revolutionary France a political group emerged known as the "Sans-culottes," 'those without culottes,' poorer members of the Third Estate who worked in the fields and thus could not afford to wear and ruin fancy knee-length culottes and so donned full-length pantaloons. This class difference between culottes and pantaloons is what lead the diminutive "pants" to be considered low-class and vulgar. However, this completely ignores the fact that the wealthiest men were wearing fucking tights.

On Irony, Pt. 3 (Belated Friday Post)

To the lament of seniors, arthritis medication still comes in child-proof containers.

On Fairness

I've been thinking of buying an album that comes out next month. I'm trying to decide if it's better to physically have the high-quality CD and give money to the RIAA, or if I should just buy the music digitally so the artist gets a bigger cut. Can't really figure which would help the artist more.

Right now, I think I'll just steal the album like always an mail a couple dollars to the singer.

Hell, if it'll feel more familiar to her I'll drive out and anally rape her myself and cum on the sheet music.

Actually, I might do that even if I buy the album.

An Open Letter to Bono

Dear Bono,

Stop whoring U2 out to technology companies. Just stop.

Thank you.

Jury Duty: Day 2

Well, it's all over, though they gave me a run for it.

Without giving away more than just slightly too much, the case involved multiple charges including assault with a machete and attempted murder from an alleged shooting. Fun stuff.

During voir dire I had to mention that my uncle (of sorts) was a career cop in the jurisdiction in question, my great-uncle worked vice in the '60s, my friends have all been charged/accused of many crimes and one is currently awaiting trial, as well as the fact that my very distant uncle was convicted of STABBING HIS FIRST WIFE TO DEATH. So yeah, some conflicts there, but not the kind that would really affect me, because I'm too awesome.

Ironically, of the 50-some-odd people in the jury pool for this case, of the 18 selected for the first round of voir dire there were about 4 or 5 lawyers, a cop, a law student and a civics student. Additionally, pretty much everyone else had a direct close relationship to law enforcement officials of some kind. We're talking best friend of the Police Commissioner's daughter, spouses, spouses and children. Oh, and did I mention that apparently theft, auto theft, rape and murder are all incredibly common occurrences, resulting in strong individuals who do not let it conflict with their judgment?

Yeah, it seems so but the courts apparently don't like that. Of the 18 prospective jurors already on the panel, 5 were excused for legitimate personal/time conflicts (Law Student Boy is moving to Miami for Law school this Sunday, for example). Of the remaining 13 people, 9 of us were excused for being too awesome, this includes the cop, all the remaining lawyers, myself and this cute girl who just graduated Vassar, as we were both Phi Beta Kappa and therefore far too smart to be useful as jurors.


In reference to yesterday's post, Super Foxy Lady Cop was back again today! As I tweeted, upon closer inspection of her severe hotness I've determined she looks like a mid-20s version of Selina Gomez, whom I previously hated on principle of Disney abusing the idea of child actress/singers to often, but whom I now know I will have funny feelings for once she turns 18.

On a related note, Cute Vassar Girl was quite cute, but beboyfriended, however another girl looked very similar but far hotter in a 'I only date jocks because I'm kind of a shallow bitch but you know I look fucking amazing naked and I will drive you unconscious in bed' sort of way. Yeah, she wore some very thin white cotton pants which made very plain the exact cut of her underpants (cute panty, not granny but not boy-cut – yes I noted this). On special note, I would like to point out that the panty line created by the previously mentioned unmentionables revealed a quite possible "bootylicious" ass the likes of which I have not seen in at least 3 web pages. It was exquisite. I might have caught an old man staring at it. I do not blame him. I only wish Ass Girl had seen it and then seen me looking disgusted so she would think I'm awesome and but her mouth on my crotch.

(Additional legal image I just always laughed at but can't use now.)

Jury Duty: Day 1

Today I got up early, had McDonld's for breakfast, spent $3.25 at the parking meter and read the first 2 stories in James Joyce's Dubliners.

Got picked for jury pool in the last pre-lunch trial, which actually finished off the whole crowd. Apparently they called in everyone for the week today because the docket this week is CRAZY PACKED.

Up-side: this last trial was criminal rather than civil, which means they go through about 50-75 people to find 12 and 2 alternates, so my chances are much better for not getting picked.

So we get into the courtroom right before lunch and I pick out the bailiff, stenographer, clerk, two defense lawyers, the accused, two regular cops clearly guarding the defendant and one prosecutor.

The judge then came in, swore us in so we'll answer honestly about how O.K. we'd be as jurors and then dismissed us because something unforeseen and unavoidable prevented the trial from starting today. (I'm totally calling it being the first-chair prosecutor not showing up.) So now we all report back to the Juror's Lounge tomorrow at 9:30. This means I get to sleep and extra hour AND I'm free the rest of today, unlike people who were already tossed from one jury and thrown back into the pool to fill out the rest of the week's cases. Yes, folks, I get out of my civic duty because I was patient and because the Civil Servants had more pressing matters.

And they paid me $40 for it.


P.S. Of the two officers guarding the defendant, who looks like a complete gangbanger by the way (not judging just yet; presume innocence), one was a dude with a buzz cut about 28ish, total baconator with cheese, but the other beat-walker was a TOTALLY HOT BABE. We're talking a full-blown Betty with a side order of bodacious. Imagine the deputy from Eureka mixed with Mila Kunis in blue with a hip holster full of sexy. Best I can put it is she was quite possibly the most attractive person I have seen in person and been deathly afraid of. She could kick my ass in so many ways our tawdry love-making would be a kama-sutra of pain.

And I would totally enjoy it, too! I mean, come on, I carry handcuff keys in my pocket every day anyway, if this girl wanted to drag me downtown and put me through intense interrogation it could be the happiest day of my life.

Dear Insanely Hot Officer Ma'am,

Please guard that dude again tomorrow, or guard my heart for a lifetime.

Also, please wear a thong. kthanks.

Bonus Post: Joanne Leads Hilarious Lives!

Speaking with Joanne, who is possible the most awesome person in the world, she revelaed that she was bummed out after a recent party in Tenn. with her beau. (That's what they call them down there, I think. It's like metric or something.)

Anyway, apparently they were talking to This Dude, and Dude was all like, "Yea, bro, I fuggin' hate skinny-ass girls. Girls under 130 lbs are just not attractive. Like you, what do you weigh?"

Now, fairly, it seems pretty clear in hindsight that This Dude was trying to say that Joanne was not unattractive and clearly above his cut-off point, however Mr. Dude obviously sucks at his math.

When Jo replied that she weighed 125, Dude had to backtrack and cover from calling his buddy's girl an ugly-ass skank. His recovery of choice? "Oh, well, you look like you weigh a lot more than you do. I mean that in a good way."

BRAVO, Mr. Dude. You are a king among dumbasses.

Jury Duty Part 1

Reread the summons today. I should have called in to the automated thing on Friday. Oops. Called in tonight, seems I was gonna be going in Monday morning anyway. Sucks, but I get it done early. I have pretty good ways to get out of it, at least, but on the other side of the coin it's not like I'm doing anything else write now.

On a side note: I would like to call dibs on the following celebrity impersonations reading Shakespeare (not really funny in writing; it's a physical bit):

- Sean Connery
- Christopher Walken
- Samuel L. Jackson
- Mel Gibson
- Ringo Star
- Robert DeNiro
- Jack Nicolson (young)
- Joe Pesci
- Robin Williams
- Angus Young
- Bob Dylan

News Update

Beginning tomorrow, Sunday, July 12th in the year of Our Lord Joss Whedon 2009, I, David E. Zucker, shall begin updating daily on my adventures in being called to duty as a juror for the great state of New York.

I will divulge as much of my experience as is legally allowable for as long as the matter takes. If I disappear from existence, it is only because I have been sequestered as part of some gritty, high-octane murder trial, in which case you will read all about it in my forthcoming book. (Or I could just post "Called in, they don't need me. [Joke.]" for 5 days. Either/or.)

Until then, I bid you good day. Now where did I leave my "Don't trust anyone over 30" shirt?

On Knowing When to Quit

Spent the last 3 days chopping my first short story to shreds. Granted it's 4 years old, but it doesn't go anywhere. When I was four years old I was running the fuck all over the place.

GET WITH IT STORY, YOU WERE BETTER THAN THIS.

No, wait, I shouldn't expect so much. After all, you were an accident.

On Breaking Even

Went into the city today to see a friend do stand-up. Parking was so awful we were 20 minutes late and lost our reserved seats (we didn't have time for the train and foot/cab. Shut up.)

On the up side, we weren't charged $30 for seats and just watched from the bar area through curtains and on CCTV.

Down side, we couldn't hear shit and basically wasted hours driving to hear nothing and not contribute to my friend's rake. Also, the GW Bridge was fucked on the way back because some ass closed off the one exit my GPS liked and we had to go through FUCKING NEW JERSEY TWICE because WHY THE FUCK NOT DRIVE THROUGH NEW JERSEY TO GET TO WESTCHESTER. Ahem. If I may reiterate, FUCK NEW JERSEY.

Still, while not hearing exactly what was said through most of the "Black guys X like this and white guys X like this" jokes, I wrote the following lead-in and mini-set:


Hey, how you all doin' tonight? My name is XXXX XXXX and before we get started tonight I was just hoping we could take a moment of silence for my dad who can't be with us here, tonight. Yeah. He has a condition that means he can't really make it to any of my shows, it's called being a dick. So lets all wish him a speedy recovery with that.

My dad's typical form of advice was "Become a stock broker." I got my degree upstate in Creative Writing, so dinner was a lot of fun. After his third whiskey my father said to me once, "Son, SEXUAL ATTRACTION, in any relationship (no matter how brief) is DIRECTLY PROPORTIONATE to MUTUAL RESPECT … except in this case."

I said, "Wow, Dad, this is the best bar-mitzvah ever."

"Now stop trying to get me to fuck my cousins. That's just wrong. They're too tall."

So yeah, I'm half Jewish on my dad's side. I know you can't really be half a religion but my favorite meal is a bacon cheeseburger with shrimp and under-ripened tomatoes so I figure I'm going to hell on all counts.

I'm half Jewish, a quarter Italian and a quarter Pekineses. There's a smidge of African thrown in there. I know you can't tell I'm black; it's just because I got the same disease as Michael Jackson. A lot of people don't know the name, but it's called pedophilia? Anyway my doctor says I'm making real progress. Last month I covered 'Billy Jean' and only molested one Guatemalan boy, so progress.


It applies one of my favorite real anecdotes with classic Jew-hating, some black racism and death and molestation humor. All-in-all, I think I hit all the high points.

Also, fuck NJ.

Of Feet In Mouths

You ever have one of those days where everyone just disagrees with everything that comes out of your mouth? And then it turns out everything you said as completely wrong?

Fuckin' sucks dude.


But feel free to disagree.

On A Certain Point of View

My mother came into my room today. Suffering from the intense, stuffy heat, I was seated on my bed in my underwear, pointed at the T.V. with my laptop, well, on top of my lap, as odd as that may seem.

She berated me for having done nothing with my day. Run one errand for her and I'm half naked in bed again at 6 p.m.

I told her it was unrealistic to expect so much of me only 4 hours after waking up, but if she really wanted my itinerary I had gotten up, checked email, news, and regular site updates, dressed, held correspondence with a dear friend, viewed some adorable puppy photos, ran not one but two errands for her, stopped for lunch in between, visited the book store to view the competition and returned home where I edited my writing from yesterday.

But I mean I had only been awake for 4 hours, so I could probably declare world peace if I put my shoes back on.

*Disclaimer*

This blog, like everything funny on the internet, is stolen from material by Louis C.K.

Of Closure

Closure - n. Finally porking that bitch after six years and then tossing her to the curb.

Happy 4th.

On Fine Distinctions

There's a thin line between "sausage-fest" and "rape party," and you don't usually find it until the second girl shows up.

On Good Mornings

I was in the process of waking up at 1 p.m. when my mother sent me a picture message on my phone. She's been spending her birthday in the city with her boyfriend, cruising China Town and Little Italy for the best food in existence.

And though I ended up going back to sleep for another two hours, I have finally comprehended that the photo she sent me is of a bucket of live frogs, being sold on the street for $3.59 each.

The City is truly a wonderful and unique place, where one can see everything that has ever been done, all in new and interesting combinations of dumb.

On the Cock

So my Dad's neighbor has this really old house with a barn on the property that they fixed up a few years ago. Out by this barn, easily visible from the road, is an ancient tree stump used for splitting logs into kindling.

Well apparently someone switched to electric heat, because sitting atop the stump now is a four-foot high, 225 lb. cast iron rooster, standing on one leg, claw raised defiantly and cawing in the general direction of passing cars.

It's a giant cock.

From the road, it looks like it's wood. A wooden cock. A four-foot, straining wooden cock.

What's more, these people seem to collect large cocks, as their property is literally littered with hard cocks of all shapes and sizes. This enormous cock, however, is evidently the grand pinnacle of their collection – the tip, if you will – and this particularly muscular cock has a bit of a sordid history.

It seems so many people saw this cock that it became a rather well-known and recognizable cock. What's more, it became a much desired cock. Some scoundrels, so in love with the cock, lifted the massive erection from its base and absconded with said cock in the dark of the night.

Still, this was not a cock to be hidden behind closed doors; it was a cock to be shown off around town, so that is exactly what our young cock bandits did. For several weeks after its owners lost their erection it was spotted around town by passers-by. Constantly moving, the cock would pop up in one place and startle a few and bemuse a few others, causing some giggles before disappearing again into the night.

Eventually, though, police rediscovered the cock. I can imagine officers down in the station laughing over the saucy stolen statuary. "Hey, Horowitz, you seen any cock lately?" "Why no, Chief, haven't seen the cock in weeks. Have you seen cock, Rookie?" "Gee, fellas, I wish I'd seen some cock this week, but my partner's out of town and the computer's down. I've had to do all our work by hand!" "Ah…!" "Oh, don't worry, Chief, you'll find that cock someday." "I know, Horowitz, I just wish I could get my hands on that cock and finish the sucker off once and for all."

And that day did come. It came and with it came the cock, back to it's mighty stand, bold and prestigious on its mount the way any good cock should be, displayed for all the cock-loving world to see. It is a prodigious cock, to be sure.

On Conundrums

I'm confused that I find myself wanting to see the movie The Ugly Truth.

I'm more confused at Gerard Butler actually wearing a shirt.