If you’ve ever played Backgammon with a 4-year-old, you’ll know that it can make you feel pretty good about yourself and maybe make you feel smarter than you really are. There's something about dominating a lesser opponent that elicits a mindset of tranquility and contentedness in a man like nothing else can. Also, kids say stupid things often enough that you can use it for a steady source of comedic material.
1) I am offended by Arod: Reason #1: the aforementioned man boobs. Have you seen these things? He looks like a Ken doll on stero....uh...well...ok Arod's a jerk for taking steroids. Reason #2: Madonna?!?!? Really?!?!? If you are rich, famous and you have awesome man boobs, are you really looking to tag Madonna? You can make an argument for Madonna circa 1984, but you can't even contemplate Madonna 2009. She looks like she opened the Ark of the Covenant. Arod, be like every other baseball player and get busy with the roadie-skank who sits outside your hotel in Detroit. Reason #3: He is a Yankee. Dick.
uths, but I am willing to give Phelps a pass on both. The dude has won 14 gold medals!! 14!! He is a huge dummy for hitting a bong in front of douchey people with cell phone cameras looking to make a buck. Let's be honest, the man is no genius. Have you heard him talk? Did you see him on SNL? I don't think Steve Jobs has to worry about the next big thing coming from the big goon in Speedos.
s irrefutable.
You would never suspect that FEMA could possibly err in their fabulous stewardship of disaster mitigation in this country, but yet another development has been revealed of the spreading of the Vast Peanut Butter Conspiracy even to this innocent and noble corner of government. FEMA –- synonymous with excellence in emergency management -– has been distributing sacks of peanutty death along with their ‘relief’ meal kits. Clever, if you think about it, to dole out poison to people who have already suffered catastrophe. It’s probably less expensive than going around shooting dead every hundredth disaster victim and kicking the rest of them in their shins. That requires a lot of manpower. And nature can only do so much: cholera doesn’t usually rear its head after disasters in our Southern States the same way it does in the Third World, so we have to improvise a little. Anyway, there were pressing questions: Is FEMA now involved in the wider government plot to eliminate the human race and prepare our mediocre planet for alien sojourners to use as a pit stop? We expect this kind of behavior from the FDA or even the Department of Education, but FEMA?
I am so glad that Tom Daschle took it in the neck! Tom Daschle, the former U.S. Senate Majority Leader, was nominated for U.S. Secretary of Health and Human Services by President Barack Obama. In the process of vetting and confirmation, some tax issues popped up, like... he didn't pay h
is taxes. So today, Daschle withdrew his name from consideration. Nice! You might be asking why I am an Anti-Daschlite, well let me tell you why: 1) Please just look up at his picture. Those are the single douchiest glasses in the history of optometry. What exactly is he thinking?!?! Red glasses!?!? Unless he is a stand-in for Dame Edna in the road show, "Dame Edna: The Joke was Barely Funny When Milton Berle Did It," a grown man should not wear red glasses. Especially not in public, and most especially if you want to be in charge of health care reform. Also, those glasses make him look so uppity and smarmy. 2) Do you know what his tax issue was about? He "forgot" to pay taxes for the car and driver he received from his buddy for the past few years. Let me ask, how many of you out there in Ptero Bloggerland have a car and driver? Give me a minute... I am counting the hands...oh, yeah, NONE! 3) Tom Daschle is a lobbyist (not a registered lobbyist but working for a lobbying firm). Your friend Obama said very clearly that there would be no lobbyists in his administration. Obama nominated him anyway. Bull. Also, Daschle's wife -- huge lobbyist (yes, she is seven feet tall). I am glad that Daschle has been dumped. Now bring in Dr. Howard Dean for HHS. He will bring a whole barrel of crazy to D.C.! Final word: did I mention the movie Doubt and long fingernails? Well, it seems we get a lot of Google hits for "Doubt" and "long fingernails," so I am trying to whore a little traffic our direction. Thank you.
Our URL has changed to www.pterodactylpuke.com. Isn't it amazing that name wasn't taken? At first, upper management here at the Puke thought this step would be way too much for our over-leveraged balance sheet, especially with all our other expenses to handle -- what with our staff of glamorous international correspondents, our team of in-house Nobel Laureates and sorcerers we hired to master the secret technologies of the Internets, a fleet of corporate jets, the Charles Mingus Big Band (with expanded trombone section) on call 24/7 for musical accompaniment in our 64,000 sq ft of class A office space, our satellite program (to be launched by Romania sometime in 2014), the herd of elephants we hired to march down the length of Italy as a promotional event (as soon as we get the required permits), the seven US Senators we have in our pocket to push through Puke-friendly de-regulation, the steady supply of crack cocaine T-Rex needs to remain functional, our investments in the Las Vegas housing market, legal counsel retained to handle the merit-less lawsuits against us, and the various freelance thugs and gang members we use to intimidate our detractors and rough up plaintiffs in those lawsuits that do have some merit.
The newsroom here at Pterodactyl Puke has been on top of the Great Peanut Butter Menace (not to mention the gathering threat of Ding Dongs and Ho Hos) since the beginning -- or at least since the first few million news organizations had reported on it -- and this grand narrative of monumental muckraking has resulted in at least 14 (non-sexual favor-related) promotions here at the Puke and may end with a Pulitzer for some eager and dashing young cub. We told you how Big Peanut Butter would inevitably knock humanity off its royal perch, and we were doubted –- nay, ridiculed -- by the vast and toxically liberal media for our belief in a telepathic toad race scouring the galaxy for a planet in the throes of a peanutty (or marshmallowy) holocaust.
You always have to be suspicious when someone says, ‘I don’t mean to compare myself to Gandhi, Martin Luther King, or Nelson Mandela,’ and then proceeds to compare himself to Gandhi, Martin Luther King, and Nelson Mandela. You really have to wonder what two species of crazy had to mate to produce a specimen like Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich. He said – and I’m not kidding – that he thought about what these great men had done in his situation, and how he was doing the same. For a minute, I started thinking what Gandhi did after he tried to sell a US Senate seat. Probably no one in India could afford it at that time, so he never really ran into any problems. It all makes sense though. Blago and Gandhi. They’re almost the same person if you think about it.
On a similar self-praising note, our favorite happy un-elected Senator, Roland Burris, said, ‘If there was no Martin Luther King Jr. and no Roland Burris, there would be no Barack Obama in the White House today. We must recognize, friends, that we all stand on each other's shoulders.’ Referring to oneself in the third person may be creepy, but tacking your name on to MLK’s with ‘and’ is pure genius and really just solidifies whatever argument he was making. It's like saying, 'If there was no John Lennon and no other random guy who wasn't even part of the Beatles, there would be no Beatles.' 
But, in any case, is it possible to ‘stand on each other’s shoulders?’ Have you ever tried to stand on someone’s shoulders while they’re standing on yours? Burris is really getting all Cirque du Soleil on us now. He was also overheard to say, ‘I’m gonna grab you by the ankles and throw you in the air. Before you fall, some dude in tights will throw me into the air and then another dude in tights will throw him before he catches you, and so forth, so that there are always three of us in the air and one on the ground at any given point in time. How bendable is your back? Go find me some music by Enya or something.’
John Thain resigned in shame from Bank of America. It turns out that he sold Bank of America CEO Ken Lewis a lemon in the form of investment bank Merrill Lynch. And not just any lemon. A black hole lemon that sucks out all the moisture from anyone who tastes its juice, and leaves pillars of salt in its wake. Merrill Lynch lost $15B just a couple of months after Lewis paid $50B for it. 
I can’t confess to having ever purchased a toilet, so I’m really not sure if that’s a reasonable sum or not, but I think I’d probably go without one before I’d spend $35k on a dumper. What could possibly make it worth so much? Was it diamond-studded or gold-rimmed? Who cares? Why would these things matter if all you do is deposit a rancid turd into a little swirl of water? It’s not like you’re gonna show your friends. You can’t exactly impress a girl at a party with the fact that you routinely wipe your nasty underside over a bowl designed by Cartier.
A girls' basketball game in Dallas, TX had the most ridiculous numbers you will ever see in sports. Covenant School beat Dallas Academy by a score of 100 to nothing. That’s right, 100-0. What are they feeding the girls at Covenant? Or better yet, how much lead content is there in the water at Dallas Academy? Couldn’t they just throw the ball up and score at least one basket by accident, and make it a respectable 100-2?
We’ve been hearing a lot of political commentary about how Barack Obama should ask all of us to help move the country forward, to call us to service, to tell us to do something. But what? Is there anything anybody can do to prevent us from slipping off the cliff into near certain disaster? And besides, most of us are almost complete idiots. What do we have to contribute? Doesn’t he know he’ll be talking to a country that elected George W. Bush twice? He should really be asking most of the country to take a seat and shut the eff up for the next four years.
I’m confident enough to know that I’m not a complete idiot but I really can’t make that assertion about the vast majority of people out there, including whoever might be reading this blog. So really, almost none of you should be helping, almost none of you should serve. I know everybody likes to think of JFK -– ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country, etc. –- but really, most people ask stupid questions, so most people should just ask not anything.
The FDA has warned us to stay away from peanut butter because of a salmonella outbreak. Of all the ignoble ways to die –- a list which should include contracting scurvy while living in Florida, being trampled by a crowd at the World Curling Championships, or being bested in a jousting match by a boastful D-list reality TV star –- I would rank getting killed by a mouthful of deadly peanut butter cookies way up there. If you keel over after stuffing your mouth with Little Debbie crackers, the Fates have played a truly awful trick on your sorry ass.
Barb Dwyer reported on Charles Barkley’s DUI arrest a while ago, along with a hilarious comment on something Sir Charles said, and it got me thinking. This weekend, as we wait for the big inauguration, it seems like we just don’t have enough juicy news. And what are we going to do afterward? I mean, a rash of celebrity DUIs is cool, but they're just fleeting joys, sticks of peppermint gum that lose their flavor too quickly. I really think we need a celebrity murder trial to keep us interested in the doings of other people. And instead of OJ killing some non-celebrity and her non-celebrity lover, I think we need to involve two or more celebrities. It may not just happen on its own, so we’ll need to help it along. For example, I’ve been sending emails to Ryan Seacrest, telling him that Rachel Ray called him an infantile homo hack with girl-lips. For those of you who want to get involved and take some real action, I think you should start contacting the cast of Lost and tell them that Al Pacino joined the FLN and blames them for the French occupation of Algeria until 1962 and that it would be very hard to reason with him. I’ve also left a message at former UN ambassador Richard Holbrooke’s office stating that Gary Coleman thinks his mother is a fat dead old lady with a hairy neck.
