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Regresive toilet humor for the New Millennium

The Summer 2001 Update

Page 20 of 50


Yes. It was the same pose as was on the covor of Esquire magazine, Decembor 2000 where outgoing President Bill Clinton, (either by a purposefull gesture of defiance, or else as a victim of a joke by Esquire editors), was photoggraphed sitting down with his hands rested on his knees, a look on his face of being-in-the-process of gettin immensely pleasured, the tip of his fancy blue silk tie pointing like a sharp arrow to the exact centor spot of where his legs are spread wide apart, while his ass is as close to the egde of the padded stool he is sitting on so as not to fall off of it, in an up-from-below, crotch-level Monica-eye's photoggrapher's view of a very satisfied looking red-faced jut-jawed bulb-nosed man.

And that is where I saw THE POSE. And that is how Granfather asked the docters to mold his hard plastic carcass.

Of course mabye President Clinton being posed like that was all a coincidence, and I am neither smart enuogh to decide that nor pass judgement, but one thing is clear: Granfather being posed like that was NOT a mistake. He chose to be posed like that just to annoy and outrage his hated brothors, Zeke and William, who both are loyal Rebuplicans, and are the two biggest (unindicted) Clinton critics alive today.

"Stop doin that!" Zeke hollored after seeing Granfather from inside the kitchen.

"STOP DOIN' WHUT, YOU BIG GALOOT?" Granfather repleid.

"Why, stop sittin' thar like that!" Zeke grunted.

"AH CAIN'T STOP, AND I CAIN'T NOT NOT STOP!", the old basterd screamed. "ALL'S I'M DONE DOIN' IS DONE SETTIN' ON MAH ASS. AND MAH ASS IS DONE GLUED TO THE WHEELCHAR!".

Zeke picked up a fireplace poker and waved it menacingley at Granfather. We do not even have a fireplace, but since I am a kid we do have a few brass and iron pokers arround. It is just so family members can beat the crap out of eachothor. This is the level of where my family is at disfunctionnallitty-wise. This is the level of how much Uncle Zeke dislikes Clinton: not as much as he dislikes Granfather, but enough to hit Granfather over it.

"Why, you looks jest like a statue of that ore-ful man from Arky-saw," Zeke trembled.

"MEBBE AH IS, AN' MEBBE AH AIN'T," said Granfather calmly, in a pleasent voice that cresscendoed up into a savage growling scream, "BUT DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT HITTIN' SUCH A STATUE OF A FORMER PRESIDENT OUT IN PUBLIC WITH A FARR-PLACE POKER WILL BE A SMART THANG?
OR SHOULD I JEST UP AND CALL THE SECRET SERVICE TO TOSS YO' ASS IN JAIL?"

Zeke looked stunned and then mumbled, "This ain't out in public, little brother."

"IT WILL BE WHEN THE STUPID BOY DONE POSTS IT ON THE WEB!"

Blankenship cut in to soothe the situatoin, "Now gents, canna we all get along? Canna we?", but before he coud even finish the sentence, Granfather had a command for him.

An inexplicable reqeust for a trip to a haberdasher

"LISSEN UP YOU DUMBASS, HALF-ASS, MONKEY-DOCTOR SCOTCH BASTERD.." Granfather went on to explian that he wanted Dr. Blankenship to imeddiatly and as fast as he coud drive off to the closest gentlemen's clothing store he coud find which was probly atleast 50 miles away and buy for him a powder blue silk tie out of the Doctor's own money.

"DON'T BE SUBMITTIN' NO REIMBURSABLE RECEIPTS FOR YER PURCHASE. THIS HERE AIN'T NO DOT-COM EXPENSE ACCOUNT.

"THE DAMN CRIPTO RESEARCH FOUNDATION KIN PAY FOR IT," Granfather gnashed his fangs, "AND YOU'D BETTER BE BACK IN TWO HOURS, IF YOU WANNA KEEP YER OTHER ASS CHEEK."

Blankenship quaked with fearfull terror.

An awfull bone chilling threat

Granfather has threatenned to use his jaws to releive Blankenship of his remaining bun many, many times. But this time the cruel demonic ogre described another method to displace the other ham, and do so, not involving its severence by one clean bite (as had been the case with the first), but instead by a slow, painfull process of gnawing and grinding and side-to-side slashing of razor sharp teeth in the flesh of the other cheek as to exact deep wounds in the precise mannor of how the Indonesian Komodo Dragon, the world's largest reptile, (Granfather ranks third, right aftor the Predatory Monitor Lizard), attacks and kills feral goats.

These bleeding wounds, immedialtly infected by large amounts of poisionous bacteria in the Komodo's saliva begin to fester, froth up and cause a slow excruciating death that is belayed only by the fact that the great scaly beast eats the danm goat first before it dies. The three doctors threw themselfes on the cheap, patchy indoor-outdoor livingroom carpeting of our exceedingly tacky home and wept uncontrollobly in fear for their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred asscheeks. Of which ammong the three of them only five remained intact

Oh, there is no doubt abbout it: Granfather is BACK and worse than ever before

In response to this detailed, diabollicol threat, Madison, Ripke and Blankenship all now hugged one anothor and in tandem with Junior's teriffied wails from outside, all three loudly sobbed in fear as Granfather bared all his brown crusty fangs and purplish green gums in full gnashing spitting view as the cigarate danced on his gummy lips as he wound up the last sentence of the tirade, "...AND THE LAST THING I'M GONNA TELL Y'ALL IS, IS HOW MUCH THE SUMBITCH'S GONNA HURT."

Granfather then sort of calmed down a bit from his rage and took anothor drag on his smoke and in the manner of a prissy Nazi in a '60s era English film casualy asked to no one in particulor while gazing out the window, if he had, indeed, "made himself as clear as Miss Gina Davis's nippies thru that see-thru Pamala Dennis dress on last year's Emmy Awards," to which Madison, Ripke and the especialy traumattized Blankenship all nodded yes indeedy, and quite viggorously so in the affirmative through their tears.

I too was frightenned.

I observed all of this while sortof hiding behind Uncle Zeke in the kitchen doorway. I had yet to have a conversation with Granfather now that he was awake, and while he too had not acknolledged me, he did indeed refer to me, (when the "Stupid Boy" posts it on the web). Howevor, I was still afraid to aproach him or talk to him, and too in awe of the awesome powor of his fantastic grisly Beastliness.

Uncle Zeke asks why

Uncle Zeke, who does not fear the old basterd perhaps as not as he should, (and partly so because he does not undorstand large words and compound sentances), stuck his large hatchet face into the room to ask Granps, "Whutch you need a powder blue silk gentlemen's tie for?"

The old snake focused his yellow eyes on Zeke, and hissed back at him, his red, thin vertical-diamond-shaiped cobra-like pupils narrowwing with venommous hate:
"BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT MISTER CLINTON -- MAY HIS GLORIOUS PRESIDENCY BE EXALTED FOREVER -- IS WEARIN' THAR ON THE COVER O'THE DEE- CEMBER ESS-QUARR MAGAZINE."

Okay, that is enough

Yes that is ennogh for me to take in one day. Trembling I staggored out to the car to sleep just a few more hours until 5:30 AM till I had to get up agian to go to work. It was a hot night. I flung myself in the backseat. To the soothing cadence of Junior's furious pedalling and fearful whimpers fifty feet away, I fell asleep in less than 5 minuttes. It wasnt till I woke up (with Junior still hard at work) and felt wet and awful across my entire body that I remembered that Spike had leant over behind himself last night to vomit allover the danm seat. AND ALL MY ALOE BABY WIPES WERE BACK IN THE DANM OFFICE.

Good thing Dad and Susie were not there

I am glad they missed this last horroble situation with The Pose, and the Threat, and The Tie. Like I said, they had to deal with probloms of their own.

Prostethic Eyebrows. Prosthettic ass cheeks. Placental reptiles with arthropodal circullatory systems. Nothing out of the ordinary when you live with, are related to, or are on a criptozoological research grant to study...

...THE OLD BASTERD