Porn Aversion Therapy

Banishing the scourge of smut.
(Caution: aggravates symptoms for the over-60 set)

Reality Isn’t If Untelevised

The only  proof of existence is TV. Being off-camera is being a tree in a forest in Mongolia in a zud. Don’t be irrelevant, be famous. Everyone was promised their fifteen seconds by a mystical, ghostly wizard from Pittsburgh late last century. Okay, rounding errors and sequestration have altered the numbers, but still.

To get on TV you need to have killer connections or surrender all  morality and dignity. Or, less redundantly, you need to be resourceful. Crushing up against the Times Square morning show broadcast windows only counts as being a televised shrub in a zud, think bigger.

Offer to polish Donald Trump’s pinky ring with personal adrenaline fluid while under lethal injection. Juggle burning kittens at a Tea Party rally. Hire a blind, autistic personal stylist, pump up your tattoos with some ’roids and an S&M fitness regime, have a double sex change, create a religion based on incontinence, unionize sperm donors, get busy and get famous!

Remember: the world’s your oyster, and you’re its saliva!

Sorry About That.

A Zud spokesman extended apologies to the residents of Mongolia, where the maiden launch of collaborative missile project with Raytheon went awry.

“Obviously, this is a disappointing setback for our defense systems initiative, and a full investigation is underway to determine the cause. Ongoing talks with the Pentagon promise future interest in the program’s potential as a livestock deterrent.”

The affected residents of Mongolia, an 87 year old farmer and his wife, seven yaks, eleven sheep, nine goats and a dog refused evacuation for medical attention.

Through an interpreter, the farmer, who huddled nearby the burning wreckage remarked that “this is the warmest I’ve been in half a century.”

What’s a Zud?

Wikipedia tells us a zud is a bummer Mongolian winter where all the livestock starves.

There are several kinds of zuds: white, black, cold and iron zuds—which are snowy, dry, lethally frigid and frozen rain zuds, respectively.
Livestock have no stated preference for the sort of zud that causes their starvation.

Those who thankfully do not live in zud zones still have the cleaning product Zud. Which is apparently the tough answer to limp-wristed competitor Bon Ami, although this is sheer speculation.

What’s important is the monosyllabic perfection. Zud. Marketing gold. There are multinational plans and a rumored IPO launch. Frozen government and global warming be damned.

Wag the Werewolf

Vamping up for Halloween

Phil’s Dog

Every dog has his day.
Phil’s dog seizes the day.

Charlie is World’s Dumbest Bird

...and has a potty mouth, too.

Cat Caught Skyping

Egad - a Maine Coon in Bangor, an Abyssinian from Albania, a calico in Rio, a Portugeuse Siamese—they’re everywhere! Pried his little paw off the mouse which he claimed was so named because it’s remnant human memory of implanted computer tech from alien cat scientists.
Overheard them gloating “the feline mind invasion nears completion.”
Met with hostile silence trying to elicit more info. Threats useless—critter crapped in my slippers and went on a three-day hunger strike.
Odds are it’s just harmless delusions, but can I risk it?

Monsanto Invites You to Eat This

Here’s a nice, juicy, red-ripe tomato, fresh from the garden. 100% organic, nothing genetically altered or anything, really.
Nature is imperfect; can Monsanto make that claim?
Nature occasionally does stuff like that on its own. Reminds you of a ____, doesn’t it?
And if it was genetically altered? By Monsanto?
You’d eat it?
But that’s stupid. Monsanto wouldn’t sell tomatoes looking like that. Maybe nature makes the occasional tomato with its ____ sticking out; Monsanto makes perfect genetic tomatoes...the ones we get to see, anyway.

So it’s odd that Monsanto is against genetic labeling—since nature, its competition, is so obviously prone to careless mistakes.

Einstein Was On About Bees, Too

Einstein fretted about frogs but he banged on about  bees, too.

Hives die—planet dies, what’s for supper?
You’d think Al might have fixed his attention on why they supposedly can’t fly. How bee aerodynamics defy physics. You’d expect Einstein might have come up with a Special Theory on Bee Flight. No.

Albert studied global ecosystem determinants and narrowed down the harbinger of doom to when frogs and bees start disappearing. Which if you’ve been paying attention is happening.
Naturally, a worldwide initiative was immediately mounted to ignore this problem. It’s not like such information can be applied to anything useful, like blowing shit up.

So don’t try taking Einstein’s case of imminent biological collapse on account of defiantly airborne honey junky genocide to any serious business investors.
Bees equal empty stares.

Funnier in the New Yorker

Not so funny to the New Yorker though. Submitted it to them and got rejected. Actually, ignored. They didn’t even use the SSAE. My net profit on half a dozen cartoons is minus $1.42 in stamps. Maybe they’re touchy about cartoons lampooning their crowd-source gag-writer thing.
That back-page cartoon caption contest has driven ninety-four professional cartoonists to suicide.
That’s high, even for professional cartoonists.

Hey, if cartoonists wanted to create something all by themselves that thousands of random armchair intellectuals couldn’t improve, they should’ve been rocket scientists or gymnasts or something.

If He’s So Smart How Come He’s Dead?

Not to mention here’s a patent clerk who never even bothered getting so much as a copyright on the world’s most famous equation.

Bleeding Edge Balderdash

Never underestimate the value of fraudulent news
listeners have a predisposition to want true.

Not a Franchise That Worked Out

Initially, it seemed a natural fit; from the savings on grease alone to the biofuel futures potential, to duh-simple police vehicle repair contracts— kind of a “garage and gorge” package deal, like if Jiffy Lube and Pancake House merged, only bigger and bolder. But the Lehman IPO went belly up right along with them, back in ’08. A bug on Wall Street’s windshield and a darn shame for auto enthusiasts and avid eaters alike.

Groan Up Advice

Avoid taking advice about putting away childish things
from people who had obviously shitty childhoods.

That Word Game Thing Mensa Started

Take a word, switch a letter, make a new word. Or something like that.

Rutabago (n): Ethanol-fueled motor home.

Umbecile (n): A pre-natal idiot.

Flornication (n): What naughty birds and bees do.

The Secret Life of Retail Ads

con•sum•er [kənˈsoōmər] noun
life form with eyes larger than its stomach, wallet and brain, yet unable to see its nose.

Yes, the Free Market Self-Regulates

No, you're not defining “Free” correctly.  Or “Regulate.”

Puntoon Tuesday Not

A day late and several brain cells short.

Be Still My Bleeding Heartworm

It’s a doggy dog world, sigh.

15th Century Gay Guys Set Heaven’s Dress Code.

 If you're not okay with that good luck appealing to a higher authority.

Bears Shit in the Woods; Bulls Do It Anywhere

...and every once in awhile, there’s a market correction
involving orange jumpsuits.

Puntoon Tuesday

Words escaped me.

Self Abuse is Your Own Business

...but apostrophe abuse won’t be tolerated.
They are not grammatical decoration. They aren’t arbitrary.
If you don’t know their from they’re, your from you’re or its from it’s,
return your keyboard to the box.
If you use apostrophes to make plurals, you will go to a tiny room in
hell where surly Russians will remove your fingernails and teeth with
garden implements. Be advised. It’s a serious matter.

Party Animal Cruelty

It’s inevitable, it’s sad.

Two Women I Like—One; Not So Much

Inspiring women, all. Complex, accomplished, determined.
All are a bit crazy but only one presumes it her privilege.

Being Realistic

Usually a euphemism for giving up.

Puntoon Tuesday

Easy as shooting fish in a barrel; just as reprehensible.

Argle Bargalese

Oyez, oyez, oyez—also, ishkabibble, flibertygibbet and frrrrrup!

The Glass Is Half Full.

Just not with anything good.

Courting Fame

 ...and double-dating its ugly sister.

Those 20th Century Sci-Fi Authors?

...they were writing about now.

It’s Not the Personal Hygiene

 Your bio’s just got no rhythm whatsoever.

The Lost Parenting Tips of Ayn Rand

“Objectivism” is a philosophy a two-year old can understand.
It is in fact the essence of two-year old thought:  
I want what I want.
Useless to argue, simple to understand.
Then there’s the tantrum—hard to ignore.
Screw 12 steps, Objectivism goes straight to bargaining and stops there. “You want it, I’ve got it, what’ve YOU got for ME?”
You have replaced noise with reason.
You have set your baby’s feet on the path to success and dominance.
This can be accomplished even before successful toilet training.


 Whenever it’s an issue it ends up being creepy.