I hope Jesus has a sense of humor and likes the Planet of the Apes

If you're like me you have read a lot of comic books and have heard of the bible.

So here are some famous bible passages mixed in with damn dirty apes....you know cuz it's on a blog and I have nothing better to write until after the Fourth of July and Canada Day holiday.

1) Phil Collins and Genesis 1: In the beginning, God created the heavens and the damn dirty apes.

2)Psalm 20 something: "the Lord is my damn dirty ape"


3)A Commandment: "Thou shalt have no other damn dirty ape before me"

4)Matthew 28 something: "Go ye therefore and teach all damn dirty apes"

5) The thing they say at weddings: Love is patient and kind, love is not jealous or a damn dirty ape.

I think there are other bible passages.

My Superman Returns movie review

So I get out of work and rush to the theater to meet Bacon Ace, The Half Bee, and Stu my lawyer (Hoag didn't want to go because he needed to find new lipstick or buy a new apron or something) to see Superman Returns. No time to eat before the movie so my options are Sour Patch Kids or Hot Dogs at the concession stand. I look at the Kids. I look at the hot dogs. I want the hot dogs. I order the hot dogs. The concession stand engineer says: "Let me see if they're cooked" and then takes out this huge meat thermometer and jams it into my penis...ummmmm....I mean jams it into the hot dog lengthwise to see if it's cooked. After conducting his Dr. Menegele experiment on my penis...ummmmm....I mean...ummmm....on the hot dog, he informs me it aint cooked yet and to try back in about ten minutes.

Now if I were to own a theater I might just want to have those freakin' hot dogs cooked BEFORE the movie starts.

Anyhow,...I order popcorn and a bargain priced bottled water and go to my seats and wait about ten minutes for my penis...ummmmm...I mean hot dog to get fully cooked.

I return to said concession stand when new hot dog engineer takes out Penis Death Prong and jams into the center of my penis...ummmm....I mean hot dog and once again informs me it aint quite yet cooked.

I order a small pizza and return to my seat.

I might have been watching Superman Returns but my thoughts were with meat thermometers jammed into my penis.

SPOILER WARNING FOR MOVIE CONTENT:

There is a cannibal dog in this movie and I must say that this is my favorite of all cannibal dog movies. Ever.

Luke Skywalker & Princess Leia

So this guy comes in my store the other day and here is how the conversation went:

HIM: "Hi...do you have any vintage Star Wars action figures?"

ME: "Sure....any particular ones?"

HIM: "I need a Luke and Leia to put on top of a wedding cake"

ME: "Are you from West Virginia?"

HIM: "Huh?"

ME: "Luke and Leia are brother and sister and maybe shouldn't be on the top of a wedding cake together"

HIM: "How about a Leia and Han?"

FOOTNOTE:
I wonder how many Luke and Leia action figures were on wedding cakes before it was revealed that they were brother and sister. I also wonder if it creeped them out once they found out.

FOOTNOTE #2:
Darth is the father of Luke.

The Amazing Cousin Steveini !!

We are about to do the worlds first blog card trick.

I want you all to think of a standard deck of 52 cards. They all are all spread out over a light wooden table and are in no particular order. You can see them all. Look at them in a clockwise fashion and pick YOUR CARD. The only thing I ask is that you DON'T pick your so called favorite number.

Think about what it is. What it looks like. Picture it in your hand. Burn the card into your brain.

Do you have it forever locked in place?

I am about to tell you the card you picked.

And here is YOUR CARD....

Click For Your Card




Ladies and Gentlemen....The Amazing Cousin Steveini !!!!

The Hitler World Tour

The story you are about to read is the day political correctness began.

Back in the 1980s I would set up at Star Trek and comic book conventions and sell my wares. Comic books, Star Trek stuff, Star Wars, movie memorabilia, etc.

So this one weekend me and Hoag were set up at this predominantly Jewish University (uh-oh) and sales were fairly flat so we figured we would cause a sensation.

We brought out the Hitler World Tour T-shirts and posters. The students were going crazy buying these shirts...they we're dying laughing and putting them on over their clothes and then walking around the dealers room with them on. Keep in mind these weren't PRO-Hitler shirts....they were Anti-Hitler shirts. The front had a picture of Hitler and the back had his 'tour dates' listed: Poland, France, etc. with the last few dates slashed out with the word CANCELLED through them.

There aint anything much funnier than a group of Jewish students walking around with Der Fuehrer emblazoned on their chests.

Here comes the good part:

This Chinese girl (don't you hate when someone brings up what race someone is when it has nothing to do with the story?) comes up to us and starts telling us how insensitive we are to the plight of the Jewish people blahblahblah....while she's bitching me out Hoag had made a Hitler mustache out of a 1 inch square of scotch tape and a black marker and was now Seig Heiling her from behind.

About 10 minutes later we were kicked out of the University. Kicked out for selling anti-Hitler T-shirts at a Jewish College.

Good thing we didn't bring our stash of pro-Hitler T-shirts....

D'OH! Canada

They speak French, are ruled by England, and protected by the United States.

Retards.

Meanwhile, Back At Fenway Park

So last night I was meeting my wife and another couple at Fenway Park to see my beloved Red Sox and I thought my wife would crack up over my stupid sign I made.

She did.

And then I just milked it for all it was worth. The hot chicks next to me had their picture taken with me and the sign.

The roving cameraman who was taking video of cute kids to put up on the giant scoreboard looked at me and my attention seeking sign and just shook his head in disgust.

Every few minutes I'd stand up and flash the sign and some people got the joke and others just looked at me like I was a retard.

The folks on the train home thought I was drunk.

I MADE A SIGN.

Don't Point That Thing At Me.

Back in the 1970s me and my buddy Hoagy were informed that our Junior High School 'suggested' to our High School not to put us in any of the same classes.

We found a loophole or two.

One of the loopholes was signing up for Archery Class. You know like bows and arrows and stuff. We were kicked out of Archery Class within 20 minutes for the breaking of rules #'s 1, 4, 7, 7, and 7. And I think #7 again.

SIDEBAR:
The teacher that kicked us out of that class was recently arrested for child porn on his computer. He also once tried to fondle frequent IAINTNOOPRAH poster Momenger's ass when she was like 15 years old. (She didn't much care as long as she got to skip gym class)

The Greatest Pretzel Story Ever Told

About six years ago I'm at the Mall looking for the perfect Christmas gift for my wife (This Mall happened to be the only one around with an Orange Julius) when I decided I needed a break, so I go up to one of those Aunt Annie's pretzel places and order up one of the fresh hot soft pretzels. I love these pretzels more than my wife and yet I don't have to buy the pretzel anything for Christmas.

But I digress.

So anyhow I give the gal at the pretzel place $5 for a $2 pretzel and start to walk away. The gal shouts out "Sir...you forgot your change!"....I turn back and just say 'Keep it." I kinda feel good about tipping a counter person at Christmas and walk on to finish my shopping.

About twenty minutes later I realize I gave her a $100 bill and not a $5 bill.

Merry Christmas.

Meanwhile back at the tollbooth...

So I'm paying my toll today on the Mass Turnpike when I peer inside the tollbooth and see a notice posted on the wall that was intended for employees...it read:

FINISH EACH TRANSACTION WITH A THANK YOU....IT'S THAT SIMPLE.

So I pay the guy, he gives me my change, and then says: "Dank Ewwwww."

Apparently it isn't that simple.

What's Behind Door Number Two?

I've told this story numerous times....if you've already heard it go do something else.

Years ago as teenagers me and The Hoag used to hang around this Teen Drop-In Center thingy (It was really some sort of drug counseling place, I think)...but anyhow we hung around there to meet girls, stay warm, and generally goof around.

In one of the rooms we noticed this locked door that was connected to a boarded up building next door. It drove us nuts! What was behind that door? Months and months went by and that door was practically begging us to pick it's lock and see what was behind it. The place was always filled with people so we never had a chance to get through that door.

Until one night the manager guy asked us if we could lock up.

Three minutes after we 'locked up' Hoag had that door open.

We fired up a couple of candles that were in the kitchenette and entered through the door.

Through that door was a long out of business bowling alley with everything nearly as it stood 20 years prior. I half expected to see Richie, Potsie, or Ralph Malph in there bowling. The bowling pins were still set up. Balls in the ball return thingy. Ashtrays on every table still with butts in them. Cobwebs and thick dust everywhere. Electricity was off and everything was gone from the snack bar...but if someone dusted the place, turned on the power, and restocked the food they could have been open for business the next day.

So anyhow we looked around, tossed a few bowling balls down the lanes (bowling is no fun if you have to set up your own pins) and then started to figure out what was worth taking. This was an abandoned building so we didn't really consider it stealing (it was)

One of us called our buddy Weasel, who had a car, and he met us out front. We filled that car with every pair of bowling shoes we could find. Estimates over the years have been somewhere between 80-200 pairs. For the sake of this retelling let's be conservative and say 100 pairs (nice even number)

So what happened to the bowling shoes you ask? Well,....we drove to our high school the next day with Weasel, parked in front of the school and spread the word that we had FREE BOWLING SHOES!! (And who doesn't love free bowling shoes?) Someone would come up to the car and we'd say "What size?" and then we'd just hand them their size and off they'd go.

For one glorious day you could hear the click/clack of bowling shoes all throughout the high school. It was truly a moving experience.

EPILOGUE:
For many years later, every once in a while you'd see some former student wearing those shoes and we'd just laugh like madmen.

EPILOGUE 2:
They never opened the bowling alley back up and all the stuff inside was just thrown away.

EPILOGUE 3:
Me and Hoag always wished we had gone back inside and taken all of the bowling balls....that would have been fun!

::in that creepy voice the kid in the SHINING used:::RED RING

Back when I was a teenager I lived in this apartment complex with a nice swimming pool. Spent most of each summer just hangin' out at the pool, swimming, reading, and whatever else one might do at a pool.

One day the lifeguard informed all of the tenants and people at the pool that beginning that week they would now be putting a chemical in the pool that would detect urine and that if anyone should pee in the pool a bright red ring would encircle them. There were tons of kids that swam in that pool so it was a relief to me and Hoag and all of my friends that these little kids would stop peeing in the pool or we would at least know who was doing it and could ridicule them into stopping. That summer and future summers went on without anyone ever peeing in that pool.

FAST FORWARD 15 YEARS LATER:

HOAG: "Hey, remember that chemical they put in the pool that would put a red ring around someone if they peed in the pool?"

ME: "Yeah?"

HOAG: "It never worked"

The 45 Second Rule

The 45 second rule:

Get to the point in 45 seconds or less or most people just zone out. Never EVER is the 45 second rule more important than when someone starts telling you about a dream they had. After 45 seconds in a dream retelling, the dream becomes wicked surreal...people sprouting wings, talking animals, unicorns in fields of clover, vats of pudding, and it doesn't even make any sense to the person that had the dream. I also have a theory that after 45 seconds that the people who had the dream start making up details of their dream to make it sound cooler than it was.

With all that being said here is my dream I had the other night. (If I go over 45 seconds go do something else.

DREAM:

I get home from work and walk into my living room and who is standing there telling stories with a semicircle of children at his feet? You guessed it....Adolf Hitler! He's older, a bit gray at the temples,bigger than one would have thought, wearing a silk smoking jacket, a dapper looking ascot, and slippers. Every so often he throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh! I overhear him say "We we're at war...I had no choice"

I rush to my home office and take out my first edition of Mein Kampf and ask if he'll sign it for me and he does.

43....44....45.....

And that was the my first ever Hitler dream. Really. How cool would it have been if he had sprouted wings and flew into a vat of pudding?

I am the King of the Poker Table.

Many years ago I'm down at this Indian Casino playing 7-card stud (in 7 card stud there are three cards face down, four face up) and hand after hand this obnoxious douchebag wearing a big cowboy hat keeps beating me. If I have a pair of Jacks he has a pair of Queens. If I have a straight, he has a flush. And on and on.

Now I don't really care if someone beats me, but this dick lets out this cackle every time he wins a hand. And every winning hand he says something clever like: "Read 'em and weep" or "Six tits beats three Jaywalkers" or some other not-so-clever cliche ridden poker statement.

I hate this guy and he's won a lot of money from me. I'm about to take him. Did I mention I hate him? Because I do. Deeply. After I take all of his money I'm going to pray he gets hit by a bus in the parking lot.

The cards are being dealt and we're betting back and forth, raising like madmen (the other players had by now folded)....back and forth, back and forth. I forget what the limits were as far as raising and stuff but we were maxing them out.

The last card was dealt and I had a gorgeous fullhouse (Queens and threes) and he had an Ace high flush. I had him but he didn't think so because my hand was nicely disguised. He bet. I raised. He raised back. I didn't flinch cuz I had this motherfucker (can I say motherfucker on a blog?) so I raised back BIG. And so did he. And back again. He was starting to get loud and folks started gathering around the table as the pot grew to what was a considered HUGE. Finally it was time to turn the cards over.

So I stood up, flipped over my Queens over full house, and said my own clever pokerism: "Eat these you fat fuck"

He just started laughing and flipped over his Kings over full house....and the dealer started laughing. And the rest of the players started laughing. The looky-loos started laughing. This dude played me like I'd never been played before.

I thought for sure the best he could have had was an Ace high flush. I was positive.

Positive.

The Wal-Mart Greeter Lady

Don't ya just hate her guts?

You feel crappy enough just walking into this FilthFactory named Wal-Mart...you certainly don't need Grandma Walton welcoming you in.

Hey Granny, go do something useful with the last few years of your life. Maybe even straigten up a rack or two.

I like Target.

Me Tarzan

Back in the so called 'day' there was a VFW post in my neighborhood and somehow (HA!) me and Hoag ended up on the roof of this 2 1/2 story building. Well, being up on a roof gets boring real fast and it was time to get down so Hoag shimmies down a post on the side of the building and then calls for me to do the same thing....but that aint my style. I'm gonna swing down like Spider-Man or Tarzan using the flag pole rope, and then maybe around the flag pole like a human tether ball or something.

It will look cool.

So Hoag somehow tosses up the flag pole rope to me and I grab it and start my Tarzan groovething and accompanying Tarzan yell.

I fell so damn fast I had no idea what hit me...the rope just burned right through my hands and took off most of the skin on both my hands. Totally ruined a good half of that summer for me as my hands had to stay bandaged most of the time. When I hit the ground, the manager of the VFW (Danny) who happened to watch the whole thing unfold, just looked at me, shook his head, and said "Dummy" and walked back inside.

Me Not Tarzan.

And the soldiers in Iraq think THEY have it tough?

On each side of my bed is an end table with a clock on it. My wife usually gets out of bed about three hours before I do and sometimes I'll be facing her side of the bed when I want to know what time it is, but I can't see the clock because her pillow blocks my view.

So I'm left with two choices....roll over and look at MY clock or move her pillow so I can see HER clock.

The soldiers in Iraq enlisted knowing full well they could go to war. I had no idea my view would be blocked if I got married.

(I'm thinking of putting a clock on the ceiling)

The Fenway Letters

So I was at Fenway Park yesterday to see my beloved Red Sox and I decided to write some open letters to some of the folks I saw:

Dear Fat WhiteGuy with the Michael Jordan #23 tank top on,

Please don't wear that tank top again. Nobody thought you were Michael Jordan and just looking at your hairy, acne scarred body made it difficult to eat.

Love,
Iaintnooprah
-------------------------------------------------------------
Dear FatBroad with the belly shirt,

Enough. Okay?

Love,
Iaintnooprah
------------------------------------------------------------

Dear PrettyGal with the David Ortiz shirt on and HandsomeGuy with the Manny Ramirez shirt on that were holding hands,

You're a lovely couple and seem in love....I just want you both to know that that image is now burned into my brain and all I can think of is Big Papi and Manny holding hands as they stroll through the streets of Boston.

Love,
Iaintnooprah
_____________________________________________________

Dear Family in front of me,

Can you please just stop eating for at least an inning? Maybe a half an inning?

Thank you,
Iaintnooprah

_____________________________________________________

Dear Red Sox Management,

I really don't care what you charge for anything, but $22.00 for a cheese pizza kinda cracked me up.

Love,
Iaintnooprah
________________________________________________

Dear DrunkGuy slightly to my left,

Very impressive the amount of beer you can drink. I'm guessing the ladies dig you.

Love,
Iaintnooprah
_____________________________________________-

Dear KidWithSign next to me,

Having a sign read: HIT IT HERE while sitting in foul territory is kinda stupid. I'm guessing you are kinda stupid also. GO RED SOX and REMDAWG!!!

Love,
Iaintnooprah
_________________________________________

Dear HotGIrl with Pink Hat,

My phone number is KLondike-0444

Love,
Steve
_________________________________________

It's Comcastic!

The big cable/internet/phone company Comcast is now proclaiming that they're COMCASTIC! Is that really something to be proud of?

Is anything really Comcastic?

Is Comcastic better than Sprintacular?

Maybe it's slightly above Chevylicious?

Though it couldn't possibly be better than Ann Curryutiful!

(Comcast: They're douchebagtacular!)

The Zig Zag Man

On the main road into the town I grew up in was this giant flat rock embedded into the hillside. It was probably 25 feet X 25 feet and people used to always paint messages on it. Usually birthday messages or high school taunts to the neighboring towns football team. Sometimes a sad RIP, maybe an I Love You Steve, or just some random artwork. It changed nearly every week and became sort of a town tradition. You couldn't drive into town without seeing 'the Rock'

"Hey, did you see the Rock today, blah blah blah..."


So one week me and Hoag notice this beautiful piece of artwork up on "the Rock"...it's the famous Zig Zag Man that appeared on rolling papers (keep in mind this was the 1970s and anything to do with marijuana was considered cool) This painting on 'the Rock' must have taken all night to do. At the time painting 'the Rock' was still considered against the law so most painting took place at night with maybe only a flashlight to guide the way. There was also an unwritten rule that each new Rock painting or message should stay up at least a week. Well, anyhow me and Hoag deemed the Zig Zag Man just too damn good and something had to be done with it. We came up with a not-so-catchy slogan, two cans of paint, a pack of cigarettes, two quarts of Schlitz, and of course a mission.....and we did it in broad daylight.

We started painting and within maybe 30 seconds we made a total mess of Mr. Zig Zag man and just started whipping paint at each other, pouring it in each others hair, and finally just threw the rest of the paint at 'the Rock' making it the all time worst ever paint job on the historic Rock.

We walked back into town covered from head to toe in red and white paint and anyone that saw us knew we just ruined the masterpiece that was The Zig-Zag man.

There is no moral to this story.

Special Talents

We all have special talents or useless superpowers.

1. My Cousin Paul can fit a standard size billiard ball in his mouth. He can also tell you how much money is in a stack of money just by looking at it.

2. Hoagy can do an uncanny baby cry. He can also tell you what any medicine is used for and it's side effects.

3. My wife can win any staring contest.

4. I always know what direction I'm facing. I can hold my breath longer than you. In a car trip two hours or less I can tell you within two minutes when we'll arrive. If something is slightly out of reach I can will myself to stretch just enough to snag it.

5. Democrats can always find away to blame it on Bush.

So what is your lame superpower? And don't be a loser and make something up.

And To Think Hoagy Thought He'd Get a Raise...

Back in the 1970s me and Hoag used to work at this horrible department store that I'll call Fonzarelli's. On this one particular day we were told to clean up the back room area. Throw away all of the trash, broken store fixtures, busted mannequins (uh-oh) and whatever else. So we're making pretty good progress when Hoag figures out that it'll be easier if we (he) first busts up the mannequins and then puts them in the trash cans and then take them out to the dumpster (uh-oh!)

Hoag finds this sledgehammer thingy and starts smashing these mannequins up...there are dozens of them and he's starting to get into the carnage of smashing them.

And then he spots the can of paint (uh-oh!), Red Paint (uh-oh!!), now he's really going all Jack Torrance on them creating his own personal My Lai. Bloody headless corpses are strewn all around the back room, 'blood' splattered all over us, and of course... crazy laughter. And then the door opens (uh-oh!!!) and in walks gorgeous Marlene who starts to scream thinking Hoag has just wiped out the entire staff.

There is just no way possible to explain to management why you're covered in blood with three dozens corpses at your feet.

We were never allowed to work together again.

At that job....

My Racist Comment of the Day.

Though I adore Italian & German women, I prefer white chicks.

Standing Up For The Catholic Church

There isn't much worse than sitting through a Catholic Mass. The same droning priests saying the same thing Mass after Mass after Mass. Sit down. Stand up. Sit down. Stand up. The fake mumbo jumbo Latin singing crap....I once even had a priest tell me that the wine was the ACTUAL blood of Christ and that the communion wafer was the ACTUAL body of Christ...(but I'll save that for a blog I'll title Retard Priests) Sit down. Stand up. Sit down. Stand up.

Just put a bullet in my head or play the game me and Hoag play to keep our sanity. Keep in mind the game is better at a wedding mass than at a funeral mass.

The rules are very simple, when the priest tells everyone to sit down just remain standing as long as possible. For years we've been playing this game and I ALWAYS win. Around the 3 second mark The Hoag starts to flinch...maybe a bead of sweat forms. I have him. There's not much better than when I can see him out of the corner of my eye a few pews away start to sit down. I usually stand for at least another second just to rub it in as I know he's jealously watching. The current record is slightly over the five-second mark. Don't laugh at five seconds....five seconds standing up while the whole church is sitting is gut wrenching. Wifey is pleading for me to sit down, kids are covering their faces in embarrassment, maybe a chuckle in the back from a Janet or a Karen. Victory is mine!

Try it. It makes Catholic Church fun!

Let's Make Up Fake Stereotypes and Cultural Facts.

And of course I threw in three real ones.

1. Teenagers always eat hamburgers using only their left hand.

2. Jewish people only drive blue cars.

3. While walking, Irish people always look over their shoulder every twentieth step.

4. Canadian men dress from the top down.

5. The French smell bad and are rude.

6. NY Yankee fans smell bad and are rude.

7. Nothing for #7

8. Bostonians can turn their heads around 340 degrees.

9. Americans have more clothes than hangers.

10. There are NO tanned Beatles fans.

A Fashion Statement

Camouflage clothing.

I can understand our military wearing the beige camouflage out in the desert so maybe they won't get shot at but I don't quite get camouflage as a fashion statement.

When you wear orange camouflage what are you trying to blend in with? Orange Julius employee picnics?

Or how about that nifty blue camouflage. Are you floating in the sky trying to hide from someone?

I've even seen tie-dyed camouflage...you know, so you
could hide out at the Grateful Dead concert or something. Loser.

Now for the good part:

My Cousin Saul (owner of an award winning business) goes
down to Disney World (a hotbed of camouflage wearing cool-
cats) every year or two and when he sees someone wearing
the oh-so-nifty camouflage he bumps into them and totally
pretends he didn't see them. "Oh...I'm sorry, I didn't
see you with that camouflage on"

So help wipe out camouflage as a fashion statement and do
what Cousin Saul does.

(Five bucks says they make camouflage Capri pants...)