Special Guest Author: Chrism!

There comes a time when I must step aside and let other great comedic authors shine. I hope that I can have this as a recurring feature here, but that is yet to be seen. My best friends and I used to have an emal "round-table" where we'd often compose random pieces of brilliance for each other's entertainment, but those wells appear to have dried up as of late. For now, here's a great article written by a good friend of mine with great comedic timing. I've revamped it with some pictures, but the content is untouched. To be fair, this piece was actually written at least five or six years ago, but it's still as poignant as ever, so pardon him if some of the references are a bit old. Without further ado, I give you:

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SHAVING YOUR BALLS

 

 

by Chrism

 

 

Shave your balls? Hell, why not! After all, you shave your face, don't you? A lot of you have shaved your heads! And some of you may even shave that shit-crusted tuft of hair sprouting out the back of your ass cheeks! So why not give your balls a once over? Like Dr. Evil once said: "There's nothing quite like the sight of a shorn scrotum. It's breathtaking, really." And if you can't believe a fictional character, then who can you believe? Isn't that right, Jesus? Hey hey!

So why don't you put down that writing assignment and give yourself a treat? The feeling of a cool summer breeze wafting over a freshly mown batch of testicles is one of the true joys of life. Just follow these simple steps, and soon you too can savor the freedom!

 

 

Step 1: Do You Have Balls?

It's a well-known fact that over 50% of the population do not have balls. "Good lord!" you exclaim. "No balls? That's DISGUSTING!" Yes, it is! But it's true! Industrial accidents, over-zealous exploratory masturbation and advanced leprosy are some of the leading causes of de-balled existance (or, as it is known in the medical community: "Good Lord! What on earth have you done to yourself?")

If you're a member of this segment of society, don't panic, run off and go kill youself. At the beginning of the 21st century, obtaining a fresh set of hairy balls has never been easier! If you can't borrow a set off a friend, try Chinatown, the internet, or the dumpster behind the Backstreet Boys changing room. Once you've got your balls (either your own or packed in ice), you can safely proceed to…

Step 2: Time to Get Naked

 

Would you take a shower with your clothes on? Of course not. That would make about as much sense as packing your ass with gun powder and sitting on a camp fire surrounded by young children. What are you, an idiot? Take your fucking clothes off so you can get AT those balls!

You may be tempted to just take off your pants, or just cut a whole in the crotch of your underwear so you can stay warm while you get down to business. All I can say is this: don't be so goddamn lazy! Laziness leads to sloppyness. Sloppyness leads to cut balls. I'll never forget the time my friend Oz went to shave his balls wearing just a saddle. He came back 2 minutes later whimpering like an abused Terrier, holding a soap dish filled with unmentionable nastiness in his hand. You don't want to be like Oz, do you? Having sex with a watermelon in the backroom of a Loblaws because no one will look at your shredded undercarriage? Of course not.

Step 3: Wash Them Balls!

Before you shave your balls, you better make damned sure they're clean. So give em a good scrub! Scrub a-dub-dub! After all, who likes filthy balls? Nobody, that's who. In fact, go up to someone in the street and ask them if they'd rather like

a) to suck on your dirty balls, or

b) a solid gold bar.

Chances are reasonably good that they'd choose 'b', which is too bad because now you've effectively paid someone not to suck your balls. You're like an anti-prostitute, which means if you ever get stuck in a room with Anna Nicole Smith, you'll cause an explosion that will wipe out the universe. Either that or she'll attempt to marry you for your fortune (which you just gave away in the form of a solid gold bar).

Top DVD Rentals of the Spring

It’s the season for rainy days and staying in with friends and loved ones to play Scrabble, have a cup of tea and watch some great DVDs. Here are a few movies I’ve seen this season so far that you absolutely have to run out and get if you’re looking for a good laugh, cry or, scare. See you in the video store!

One More Day

A heartwarming film about a Pimm’s promoter who discovers he’s only got twelve hours to live. Featuring Oscar nominated performances by Colm Feore and Brad Renfro.

The Pocket

In the tradition of the Red Violin, The Pocket chronicles the life of a drifter’s blazer pocket: what goes in it, what comes out, and whose lives are touched by it. Kirk Douglas soars as the voice of a discarded gum wrapper.

Tackle me Pink

Groundbreaking and controversial film that tells of the oft overlooked struggle of the homosexual varsity quarterback. Corey Feldman stars.

JugBust: Phoenix

Sean William Scott reprises his role as Kip Looger in this fourth incarnation of visionary director Michael Mann’s JugBust series. Prior exploits include Jugbust: Atlantic City, JugBust: Detroit, and JugBust: Albany.

Singapore

A taught, high-tension thriller that follows two Malaysian detectives who go past their jurisdiction as they search Singapore’s underbelly for traces of a serial spitter. Introducing Goh Chok Seng.

Table For One, Please…

Being alone in a town such a Kingston on a conference affords one with certain unique opportunities, such as experiencing the crushing loneliness of walking into a restaurant alone and asking for a table for one. Still, after a day filled with considerably positive energy, I was prepared for it, as the night prior, I had successfully eaten alone in my hotel's restaurant.

I had participated in a yoga class arranged by one of the conference's delegates in the afternoon, enjoyed a swim in the hotel's pool, took a few thrusts down the water-slide that was available and soaked myself in both the hot tub and the sauna. I was invigorated and, shortly after nine PM, decided to walk out into the environs and eat at the nearest restaurant that wasn't a KFC or a Golden Griddle.

Aunt Lucy's was the first restaurant I found in the relatively sparse area surrounding my hotel, which was located on the outskirts of town.  It appeared classy from the outside and I had heard good things about it from a coworker who often travels to Kingston.  So I opened up the door and stepped inside, ready to once more utter those fateful words… "table for one, please."

It took a few second for anyone to notice my presence.  There was a table just ahead with a few people sitting there.  A young man who was tending bar approached me.

YOUNG MAN: "Hello Sir."

MAN SITTING AT TABLE (quietly, to young man): "We're closed."

YOUNG MAN: "I'm sorry, we're closed."

ME: "But on the door it says you close at ten."

YOUNG MAN: "Uh, we actually closed at 9:30 tonight."

I glanced at my watch, confused.  The man at the table spoke up

MAN AT TABLE: "Ted, it's actually quarter after nine."

I paused, getting the sense I was being jerked around.  The man at the table stood up, and I could tell he was the manager.

MANAGER: "Sir, we decided to close early tonight, as there weren't any customers."

ME: "Then perhaps you should have locked the door."

MANAGER: "Let me go see if the chef's still here. Are you here for dinner?"

ME: "I came here for a meal, yes."

He walked away and into the kitchen.  He soon returned.

MANAGER:  "Right this way, sir."

ME: "No, don't worry about it, there's no need to bother yourself."

MANAGER: "No, no, sir. Please.  We never say no to a customer."

Thinking to myself, you just said no to be twice, I took a seat.  Before I could even open the menu, the manager came back and asked me: "What can I get you?"

ME: "You know what, I'm just gonna take off instead."

MANAGER: "Please sir, that's not necessary."

ME: "It's okay, you guys take the night off."

MANAGER: "I hope you'll join us again."

I walked out of the restaurant still hungry and lonely, and now scorned.  Now, I'm normally not the kind of guy who gets mad at service workers, but the thought of everyone in the restaurant waiting for me to order and eat so they could go home made me pissed off.

I walked back to the hotel and came to the computer to write this.  Now I think I'm going to go to my room and do the second most depressing thing on earth:

Order room service and read in my bed.

Conference Livin’

Calm down, people!  I'm still alive, just in Kingston, Ontario.  I know that may go against the town's motto "When you're in Kingston, you're only half alive!" but I must say I feel great.

I'm attending a conference on behalf of my company, and once again, the free food keeps one's spirits up.  In fact, I'm just writing to say that this morning, ten minutes before my alarm, I actually woke up laughing out loud from a comedic dream I was having.

Rest assured this new found joviality will be channeled through my subsequent writings.  Talk to you all tonight, if things go well.

The Eight Temperaments of the Dalai Lama

The Dalai Lama. A global beacon of warmth and kindness. As the present reincarnation of Avalokitesvara, the bodhissatva of compassion, he’s got a lot on his mind. I mean, the guy’s been looked to as a Buddhist leader and compassion incarnate since he was two. That’s more than you can say.

All this responsibility to be kind in the face of global horrors can weigh heavily on a genteman’s mind, silk robes or no silk robes. But still, the guy gets up every day, poses for a magazine or two, checks out a couple of world summits and still has the energy to look like this all the freaking time:

A clever ploy by the media, and one you so readily fell for. Here, for your education, I have compiled the eight basic yet chiefly unseen emotions of His Holiness. They may be subtle, but remember, this man is a much, much better person than you are.

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Emotion the First: Desperate Sorrow

Yeah, I know. A guy’s got no children, no wife, he’s been showered with jewels since he was a toddler, what’s he got to lose? Nothing you would care about, but, then again, no one logged online to find out what your eight temperaments were, did they?

Ever heard of a little thing called human suffering? How about the subjugation of Tibet? These aren’t things your average person thinks about on their way to Best Buy to purchase season four of Three’s Company. But to a Dalai Lama, they’re as important as that first moment when Mr. Furley steps through the door as new landlord. So have a bit of sympathy before somebody breaks your femur.

 

 

 

 

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Emotion the Second: Carsick

In this photo believed to have long vanished, we get a exceptionally rare chance to see His Holiness about to wretch. Taken during a particularly bumpy drive through the Himalayas, the Dalai Lama was unable to prevent his rice from “reincarnating”. Look, a guy can be a living god, be surrounded by shurpas holding his bowels gently in place, but when reverse peristalsis calls, you gotta accept the charges.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Emotion the Third: Disappointment

You haven’t really been on the receiving end of a disappointed glare until you’ve had the Dalai Lama disappointed with you, such as this reporter did in Boston last May. I mean, shit man, you must have really dropped the bomb for the supreme incarnation of compassion to think you’re a maladroit fuckup. At this point, you have only two options: become a monk, yourself, in the hopes of becoming less of a bungling shit, or join a vaudeville act, in the hopes that your skills of dropping babies and accidentally spilling exposed film out of cameras will have some sort of commercial appeal.

 

 

 

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Emotion the Fouth: Steppin’ Out!

Hey, a guy’s gotta drop his robes sometimes, throw on a Cole Hann blazer, a spritz of Dolce and Gabbana, and hit the town bodhissatva style. Ladies, come on, if you had the wisdom of a thousand ages staring deeply in to your eyes, wouldn’t you be on your back? You may say you won’t, but that’s a bet His Holiness is willing to make.

 

 

 

 

 

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Emotion the Fifth: “Excuse me?“

Don’t front the Dalai Lama; that’s something he’ll make clear very quickly. How? By dropping an expression like this one. It conveys a heavenly restraint coupled with a clear warning: you take one more step, and ages of Buddhist wisdom will be channeled into a martial display so powerful, compassion will turn into contempt, kindness will burn down into kinetic rage, and your spirit will be forever blasted into an unbreakable samsara so infinite, it makes PI look like the number 2.

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Temperament the Sixth: Skull-crushing Rage

Notice the nostrils flaring, inhaling the wind and ghosts of a thousand generations. The eyes bead up, in a focus not unlike that of a rabid wolverine preparing to strike. And the lips purse and tighten in an all-too-late indication that, at this point, words will no longer be of any service.

The best part about this picture is that the guy in the background has no idea that he’s about to see somebody’s spinal column pulled through his ocular cavity. He’s just happy that the Dalai Lama could make it to his Lion’s Club meeting.

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Temperament the Final: Pensive

Even someone reincarnated from gods has to wash the blood out of his robes and ground himself. This is His Holiness recalibrating his emotions, connecting with all the midichlorians flowing inside him, building up the walls of kindness, wisdom and compassion that are his calling cards.

Unknown to many, this is also the time when the Dalai gets a chance to think about his personal stuff. What kind of stuff is that? I don’t know. Sudoku? I’m not the Dalai Lama.

This all brings him back to his number one disposition: happiness. Because that’s what we’re paying for.

Let us now part, remembering that when the world gets crazy, there’s still someone out there looking out for us. He may not be able to fly or freeze water with his breath, but he’s still out there, eating rice, breathing in the sorrow of the world and breathing out the path to Nirvana. Bless you, you jolly little soul. Bless you somethin’ big.

A Summer Afternoon

Child one (brandishing a large rock): "Look at me, I'm Moses! Free my people from bondage!"

Child two: "You led the Hebrews out of Egypt and served as a prophet, establishing an easy to follow moralistic code!"

Child one: "Thou shalt not carve graven images!"

Child two: "You are the deliverer of our people!"

Child one and two: "Hahahahahahahaha!"

Mom (from inside): "Boys! Dinner! Come wash your hands and say a prayer to Baphomet!"

Kids: "YAAAAY!!"

Look What I Found

Hmm…Racial Slurs, Fellatio, Cheap Lighting, an American Flag next to someone's balls, and Ventriloquist Puppets.

What is there not to like about this album cover?

There are plenty more like it at

The Museum of Bad Album Covers. 

So, You’ve Found a Human Ear in your Arby’s Melt…

Esteemed Customer,

If you're reading this, you've no doubt discovered that your delicious, 100% roast beef Arby's Melt was not to your satisfaction, due to the unfortunate presence of a severed human appendage. We at Arby's are committed to offering our customers a unique, nutritious and cannibalism-free fast-food experience. Arby's understands that a morsel of human flesh, however slow-roasted and honey-layered it may be, might not be welcome in your lunch, dinner or whichever meal of the day you trust Arby's with.

Let me begin by offering you another Arby's Melt on us, no questions asked. That's our pledge to our customers. While you enjoy your moist, succulent and complimentary Arby's sandwich, you might have some questions that we at Arby's would be most happy to answer.

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Oh my God! There's somebody's ear in my sandwich!

While we at Arby's recognize that, having bitten into a human ear, your chief concern may not be proper grammatical phrasing, we do wish to point out that the above is technically an exclamation, not a question, and would ask that you restrict yourself to interrogative sentence constructions. We've included an example to illustrate the usefulness of clear and concise questions:

BAD:

You: "I'm bleeding!"

Answer: "Yes, it appears so."

GOOD:

You: "Why am I bleeding?"

Answer: "Because you have an ovarian cyst."

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OK, Why is there a human ear in my Arby's Melt?

Good question. There are many reasons how a piece of human flesh might have made its way into our kitchen, not least of which being that we are currently employing a rehabilitated serial-killer (my nephew Jeffrey) in our sandwich preparation chain. Despite our rigorous, government-enforced health standards, mistakes (if we have agreed to call it such) can happen in even the most meticulously upheld food-preparation area. For instance, last week, a vagrant may or may not have wandered through our back door and into our meat freezer. While I haven't had an opportunity to personally verify this yet (fingers crossed for next Monday), I have been assured that the cadaver was properly disposed of, and am confident that this is the case.

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What is the nutritional value of ear?

Due to the primarily cartilage-based composition of ear, and the fact that cartilage is known to be extremely rich in calcium, I would have to say: good. The nutritional value of ear is very good.

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Where can I go to vomit?

As an Arby's restaurant is primarily designed for the ingestion, and not expulsion, of food, we ask that you refrain from vomiting while in the premises, as a common courtesy to both our staff and your fellow customers.

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I'm calling the police.

Once again, I must respectfully point out that that is not a question.

Raising the Bar

In the effort of maintaining the relatively high-brow nature of this weblog, despite the fact that arguably the largest picture I've ever put on this site is of a topless woman, I shall list forthwith six exceptionally refined thoughts that my cranium has generated:

1. Art.

2. Stock Portfolios.

3. Haute Couture.

4. An audience with Queen Victoria.

5. Supporting an animal rights protest.

6. Golf.

May it never be said that I appeal to the masses.