Public Safety Announcement: Do Not, Under Any Circumstances, Try To Turn Your Pet Into A Dragon

I know! A dragon would be the ultimate family pet, just on account of the fact that they're the stuff of legend. I agree on the point that the whole "dragonz r kewl" thing has been disgustingly played out, and if I meet people who talk about dragons I usually beat them with a whiskey bottle until either they shut up or I black out. Still, though, come on. "Oh, that's a nice little kitty cat," I'd say. "By the way, here's my fucking sweet-ass dragon."

Still, I have to warn you. The first time you try to staple those wings to your pit bull, well, you'd better be wearing extra pants. Those dogs seem to have groin-seeking laser vision. I went through two dogs and countless pairs of jeans like this until I realized that I should probably practice on chihuahuas first.

Of course, right after I got Paco, I decided I'd play it safe and hold off on the wings until I got the whole firebreathing thing out of the way. One time I was wandering through the park, looking for girls to throw mud at, when I saw what was possibly the gayest thing the world has ever seen. There were all these people in shorts, and there was this guy breathing fire, and there were hackysacks, and everybody was dirty and smelly. I felt like I needed to scrub my eyes.

"What are you extremely gay faggot queers doing?" I asked politely.

"We're having a drum circle. You know, a little weed, a little music."

After the police finally pulled me off of the last gay homo I was trying to kill with the power of my mind (also knife), I asked the firespitting guy how he did his completely queer firebreathing trick while the cops were writing out the papers that said I wasn't allowed at parks anymore. Confident I could do the same thing with my tiny, tiny rat dog, I pried its jaws open and gave it a whole bottle of tequila. The trick is to get one of those sports bottles with the bendy straw and stick it way, way back in the dog's mouth.

Unfortunately, Paco fell asleep, and didn't seem to want to wake up. It was really full of tequila in the middle, so I figured it would only take maybe half an hour for him to get up and start shooting fire and being generally awesome. But Paco didn't wake up, and I got tired of waiting, and when I woke up and looked for Paco the next morning my wife told me he flew away to dog heaven, and that's why I couldn't find my papier-mache dragon wings anymore. It just figures that as soon as I invent an awesome flying fire dog it decides to be completely ungrateful and fly off.

So now I've got this goldfish and some Lee Press-On Nails, and I'm thinking about making this one not have any wings so he can't fly off. But generally, you shouldn't try to turn your pets into dragons, because you have to go through a lot of animals before you find one that works. Also, you never get to play on the swings anymore.

What I Mean To Say Is

teleolurian:but i heard through the rapevine that you pound a mean flounder

[11:58am]d:mmm... rapevine

[11:58am]teleolurian:that is to say, you're the chef boyardee of fist kebabs.

[11:59am]teleolurian:that you took a linguistic career in american sign massage.

[11:59am]teleolurian:i hear you got a double platinum album from your last recording session with little elvis.

[12:00pm]

[12:04pm]teleolurian:plunk isn't getting riled by my clever entendres

[12:05pm]Krem:lol

[12:05pm]Kerplunk:clever? i think not

[12:05pm]teleolurian:i hear you pray a good sride whistle.

[12:05pm]

[12:06pm]teleolurian:that you prefer public transportation, meaning the skin bus.

[12:06pm]teleolurian:that you offer a five dollar value menu.

[12:07pm]Kerplunk:i just spent $748

[12:07pm]teleolurian:that is to say, you can't see the barber for the pole.

[12:07pm]d:you could have saved yourself $700 by getting a dildo and a porn

[12:07pm]teleolurian:that you like the penis

Dear Ghost Hunters

Hello! If you're reading this README file, it's probably because you finally opened the ghost.zip attachment I emailed you about a billion times with the subject line 'Ghost Attached - Please Hunt It'. This also means you're a member of The Atlantic Paranormal Society, which is good, since that's who I was sending all these emails to.

This zipfile contains:

• This README file;
• One (1) ghost.

Your ghost has been selected randomly, and may be any of the following: Wandering Spirit, Lost Soul, Poltergeist, Dai-Oni, Warren Spector, Fruit-Flavored. It is pretty much up to you to figure out which one, because you're the experts, or so you say on your show. I don't know how long it takes to hunt ghosts, but if it's anything like Ghostbusters I pretty much expect a return email titled 'Bagged And Tagged' in about forty-six seconds.

One thing that is pretty important to note: at least one of the ghost varieties contains nuts. Please do not hunt this ghost if you have a peanut allergy. Also, some of the early zip files were pulling from the completely wrong place on my hard drive, so if your zip file contains a folder titled "NeighborsWeddingNight", you should delete it immediately. It, um, contains a virus.

If you're having problems seeing the ghost, try drinking an entire fifth of rum. Every time I do that, I can totally see tons of ghosts. Some of them will try to trick you by looking like your furniture, or your wife, or one of your children, but don't be fooled. Generally, I find that ghosts are vulnerable to the good old-fashioned sucker punch, unless they're the kind that looks like cops at your front door. Those ones have some kind of magical spirit spray that burns. Seriously. Don't touch them.

You are now fully informed on the care and feeding of your paranormal phenomenon. Should you have any questions, you can usually contact me in the drunk tank of the Clark County Detention Center, which is kind of my office. Thank you, and pleasant hunting.

Hey, Want To Bleed From Your Eye Sockets?

http://movieconvert.sourceforge.net/

It's PHYSICALLY painful.

She Works Hard For The Money

So, now that my girlfriend is working at Zappo's, which is basically Disneyland for employees, we've been leaving our children with Amber. Amber is the girl who we're going to do that movie thing to, where at the beginning she's a total slovenly bitch and then by the end of the movie she pronounces everything in a British accent and knows how to knit maggots into gold coins. I have complete and total confidence that this plan will work swimmingly.

The plan starts now, where we graciously offer to pay her real American money to watch our magical, precious, wish-granting crotchfruit. I'm not quite sure what the next step is, but she's doing a pretty damn awesome job taking care of the kids, so bravo. All I remember is that when I did watch the movie with the girl-into-princess routine, there was one scene where the guy bitch-slaps the girl with a dictionary, and then takes her out to the street and curbstomps her. This is exactly how the movie goes in my excellent, photographic memory, even though strangely enough I also remember waking up the morning after I watched it. I was hung over, and there was a tooth in my shoe. Also, I was in my car with the cruise control on and all I could see was miles of cornfields. This is what I told Blockbuster when I went to take the movie back, but they still charged me the late fee, even though it was only like nine days late. I guess the point of this entire post is that I am now no longer allowed in Blockbuster.

How Much Is That Doggie

3:00:32 PM Kerplunk: it was such a great feeling on saturday when i drank

3:00:38 PM Teleolurian: it should be.

3:00:41 PM Teleolurian: it's called "drunk".

3:00:44 PM Kerplunk: i felt horrible later on, but still

3:00:49 PM Teleolurian: yeah

3:00:50 PM Kerplunk: i miss that feeling

3:00:53 PM Kerplunk: ::tear::

3:00:55 PM Teleolurian: that's called "i'm sorry i fucked your dog"

On The Corpses Of My Enemies

You know, there really isn't anything to complain about. I mean, I've got a pretty decent life now- a home, a job, a mighty space empire that revels in my leadership, and every single episode of The Young Ones on DVD. Every single threat that ever stood in my way to total galactic conquest is pretty much obliterated now. Let's get cathartic. Let's relive some of those past rivalries.

My Entire Third Grade Class 

Oh, you sniveling roomful of assweasels. I understand it probably means I have some psychological issues to even remember your names, but let's make something clear. I have superhuman intelligence and I bathe every morning in the blood of virgins; you are all probably working at the same Burger King. Yes. I'd like fries with that. All the fries your pathetic hovel can muster.

That One Chick In Seventh Grade

Yeah, well, you know what? I was totally being nice to you. Mostly because I heard you were a total skank. You didn't have to tell everyone I had worms. First of all, and this is totally coming from left field, how would you even know? That sort of comment indicates a rather intimate connection with my lower intestinal tract, which you and I both know you had absolutely no access to. I say had because, well, I don't really remember you very well, and it's possible you and I have gotten reacquainted during one of my opulent forays into human flesh. Oh, lighten up. It's not like you never wondered. In case you were wondering, it's like the world's best filet fucking mignon. Bitch.

The Asshole Manager Who Took $20 From My Till And Then Told Me My Drawer Came Up Short

Oh, but I do remember you and your simpering never-going-to-be-better-than-a-manager-at-Shakey's ass. You know, I really did roll pretty calm, right up until my faithful men in the Ninth Star legion scorched the Earth and raised the Dusk Shield to plunge the planet into eternal darkness and misery. I never really blamed you. I figured your mother must have locked you in the closet when you were young. Like, for a really long time. I gave one of my most faithful commanders the right to desecrate your body and then, desecrate your corpse. I'm almost tempted to make a holiday in the name of your defeat, but that would be just pitiful.

The Long, Long Line Of Psychiatrists

Where do you get off telling people they have issues? Of course they have issues. Now. They're all dying from lack of sunlight, bitches. That solar energy runs my Luminous robot armies, and those Skullfucker corporal bots are pretty fantastic. Aren't they? I think you would know. I've sentenced your kind to the eternal polishing of them. As they sharpen their mighty death tools on you. I shall permit myself a tiny evil laugh. Heh. Heh. Hahaha. (Note: Get evil laugh tutor. Shower with unimaginable riches.)

That Guy Who Cut Me Off When I Was Piss Drunk And Just Trying To Get Off The Streets For The Good Of Humanity Before I Caused A Wreck

Yeah, I got home, idiot. No thanks to you. You and your friggin Audi, you'd think someone with that kind of car would do something to make sure nobody actually hit it. I'd stopped counting drinks after the fifth of scotch. Single-malt, thank you. I rolled pretty high even back then. Well, it's your fault that the Audis of the world have all been confiscated. I have a plan for them. They will trample delicately upon the flesh of the former upper class. I just have to come up with a kickass name for them. Which is hard. Because when I look at an Audi, 'kickass' is not the first word to come to mind.

The So Called Faithful Former General Who Then Attempted To Assassinate Me

Dude. Seriously. What the hell. That shit be totally wack. Did you not read Julius Caesar? Or the million shows that borrowed plot points from it? Well, nobody will anymore; reading is strictly forbidden among the slaves of former Earth. You might as well have proclaimed it on a billboard. You try having an abusive old man and not watching over your shoulder wherever you go. But seriously. I'm okay. I'm okay. Everything is okay.

The New And Improved Reboot

Name

reboot - restart the operating system

Synopsis

/usr/sbin/reboot [-vsn] [boot_arguments]

Description

The reboot command is a drunken UNIX 
utility that likes to hit the kernel, 
making the kernel cry and eventually shut 
down (don't worry, eventually it gets 
back up). Thanks to the mighty powers of Richard 
M. Stallman, there are now more boot
arguments than ever for the reboot utility to
give you control of exactly when your system 
reboots.

Options

The following options are supported:

-v   Verbose description of every single 
     system that shuts down and how it feels
     about it. The -d option is deprecated in 
     favor of reboot -v > dump_file.
     Note that some utilities hate you
     and will express vocally how much.

-s   Shoryuken. Can also be activated
     through the following command line:
     /bin/down /bin/down-forward 
     /bin/forward /sbin/high-punch.
     This is basically the same thing as a
     shutdown; your kernel will not be able
     to recover without help.

-n   Avoid calling the police, the kernel's
     parents, or the mass media. Really.
     Stop crying. I'll make it all better.

Operands

The following boot_argument strings are supported:

NOW  The only boot argument anybody ever
     really uses. Shuts your system down now.
     The curl -O jobs you forgot were
     running will leave useless binary fragments
     across your system until you run
     /bin/hoover --really-no-really.

later
     Reboots your system at some point
     in time in the future. A daemon retrieves
     single bytes from /dev/random until
     a null byte (\0) is reached.

at_the_whim_of_an_intelligent_yet_cruel_ai
     Will only reboot your system when
     it detects, via fuzzy logic, one or
     more of the following: backup programs,
     pornographic AVIs, nice -20 jobs.

when_you_least_expect_it
     Reboots when you least expect it.
     Ranges between utime and the end of the 
     UNIX epoch, when the Great Administrators
     rise from their sunken cities and
     consume the world with madness.

tomorrow
     Reboots your system immediately,
     then changes your wallpaper to depict
     the entire EFF giving you the finger.