October 23, 2008

I, the Truthbringer

Guess what? I am now officially a prophet. No, I don’t have papers to prove it, but would I lie to you? I hope you answered “no,” because I’m about to birth some wisdom from this certified soothsaying head of mine. That’s right; I’m going to answer some pretty hard-hitting questions for you right here and now. Most of these are reader submitted (or what I imagine readers would submit, had I not been too lazy to ask them to submit questions). I know you’re probably worried about my well-being, what with revealing the secrets of the universe and all, but fear not…my voice has been disguised (just to be on the safe side, if any Master Truthbringers ask about this blog, play dumb. Okay, now you say “What blog?” and wink at me. But I didn’t see you wink, so I’ll probably get a little frustrated and say, “this blog…the one you’re reading…act like you don’t know anything about it if someone starts to question you.” And then you'll try again and say “What blog?” and wink at me………Got it. Awesome. *wink*).

Would you really rather sleep with Ms. Piggy than Nancy Grace?
Let me put it this way, Ms. Piggy wouldn’t even have to be there. What I mean is, I would rather be jerked off by a puppeteer than even be in the same room with Nancy Grace, whose animal form is the praying mantis (I know, I thought it was “hippo,” too). I don’t want to be eaten alive while I’m having sex. Actually, I don’t want to be
eaten at all. That being said, I guess if you were to be eaten alive, during sex would probably be one of the better ways.

Where have all the cowboys gone?
Paula Cole ate them all (during sex, the lucky bastards).

Hey, don’t you know that Jesus guy?
Nope.

*cock-a-doodle-doooooooooooooooo*
Shit.

Why is everybody always pickin’ on me?
Four words: “candy from a baby.”


Are you my mother?
No, but the odds are good that I’m your father. BAM! (See Fig. 2.2(a))

Where’s the beef?
It’s usually in my trousers, but there’s always a good chance that it’s in your mother. BAM! (see Fig. 2.2(a))


Cat got your tongue?
If by “cat” you mean your mother and by “tongue” you mean “beef,” then the answer is "Yes, yes she does." (you should probably have the chart memorized by now.)
If not me, then who? If not now, then when?
What?
What’s with all the pictures?
I don’t write all too wellly, so I gotta make up for it with some funny stuff. Plus, I use Photoshop at work and as the old saying goes, “Photoshop an ea
gle carrying a baboon, and you’ll get a raise soon.”

Who was that guy in that one movie?
Ask me again when you get your act together.

Well, that's all for now. I hope you're happy with some of my answers. Actually, I don't care if you're happy or not. I don't make the truth, I just bring it.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

The mental picture of your beef in my mom has left me deaf and mute.

Anonymous said...

that forehead picture gives me the oogs, man. just sayin'.

Katie said...

oh my god...literally, i'd like to take this moment to thank jesus for subjecting you to a lifetime of education under his dictatorial reign, just so you could write that rooster joke, and i could laugh my ass off in the library.
also, to the god of rhyme who brought that soon-baboon treat together. holy jesus, son of an english major, that shit is good.