d Pardon My Juice: August 2005

Wednesday, August 24

Dear Mr. Monster,

Several years ago, Cookie Monster became frustrated that people misunderstood his verbal suggestions to improve their lives. He felt he needed to compensate for his speech impediments and started writing a weekly advice column for a small newspaper out of Sesame Street. It was quickly picked up by alternative weeklies across the country. Pardon My Juice, however, has picked up special web publishing rights.

Dear Mr. Monster,

My boyfriend and I are having trouble finding quality time together. He works a graveyard shift and I work during the day. What can we do?

Cutie Need QT

Dear Cutie Needs QT,

Cookies are best enjoyed in the morning with loved ones.


Dear Cookie,

The other day my husband went to the bar with his buddies but came back smelling like really sweet alcohol or perfume. He said it was from a woman his single friend picked-up. When I bring it up, he becomes testy and tells me to drop it. I want to talk about what happened that night, but he wont let me.

Wife In Need of Help

Dear Wife,

I find that a chocolate chip followed by a snickerdoodle is a good way to relax people and get them to open up. If your husband can resist even that tempting combination, you might want to seek professional couples counseling.


Dear Cookie Monster,

Lately my girlfriend has been urging me to find a higher paying job. She says I'm wasting my MBA by teaching high school English. I find teaching teenagers to understand and enjoy Shakespeare is the greatest reward in the world. I also love my girlfriend and have thought of asking her to marry me.

Modern Day Hamlet

Dear Modern Day Hamlet,

Like the character you've chosen to sign as, you'll want to sit down and ponder this question. I find that oatmeal raisin are the most conducive for this purpose. Why does your girlfriend care how much money you make? Why does she want you to quit something that brings you so much joy? In fact, this may take a whole batch--but if you combine it with a brisk walk, the calories won't affect you too much. It seems like she may be concerned that if you do marry, you won't have enough money to live comfortably. No matter how much you love this woman, marrying her will not be as satisfying a life fulfilled by teaching, especially if she's perpetually concerned with money. This is a tough cookie to chew and I wonder what conclusion you'll come to.


Dear Cookie Monster,

THANK YOU SO MUCH! The other day I made a half-batch of peanut butter cookies (so it would seem like I was just being neighborly by giving them some snacks I couldn't eat--just like you said!) and gave them to my neighbors with the barking dog. I casually mentioned that the little monster (no offense) was interrupting my sleep and they immediately became concerned. They brought the dog into the next room and beat it to an inch of its life, but, I'll be damned if the dog ever barks again! You're the absolute dough!

Barking Dog Driving Me Barking Mad


This is horrible! Cookies are instruments of peace and love, not animal abuse! The dog may not bark again, but at what cost? You have a few more nights of sleep? Not to mention I think you've internalized some very serious monsterism, intolerance and anger. You should go on a three month long cookie avoidance diet and the write me back to tell me you understand the pain you've caused that dog.


Wednesday, August 17

Tiger Woods Loses Green Jacket To Fourteen-Year-Old

Perhaps mockingly, Jake Jacobs, thrust his fist into the air like Tiger Woods would have at a major tournament. It was the eighteenth hole at Silly Sally's Putt Spectacular and he had just sunk a birdie to finish his defeat of the number one ranked golfer in the world.

"I'm no great shakes at much of anything," said Jacobs, "I doubt I'll amount to much. But now I'll have a story to tell my kids and my grandkids and an event I can latch onto until I die of cancer."

Admittedly, the short and skinny teenager looked ridiculous in Tiger Woods green jacket, but he thought he might grow into it.

At the barbeque of Jenny and Jason Jacobs, friends of Woods' wife, Jake declared he was the greatest putt-putt golfer in the world and could take down anyone, including Tiger Woods--not knowing the 9-time major winner was standing just behind him at the grill.

Apparently enraged, Woods shouted at the child that he would, "take him down, anywhere, anytime, any place," and threw his unfinished burger and potato salad to the ground.

The child, not to be bullied, sniggered at him and said something to the effect of, "Hey old man, you can drive 300 yards but your greens work makes you look like a sissy." To which Woods grabbed Jacobs by the arm and thrust him into his Cadillac.

Terry Sheklow, who attended the barbeque, had this to say: "I've never seen anything like it. You wouldn't think a man compared to Jack Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer would let himself be goaded by a fourteen-year-old who has no discernable talents. Well, I guess he has one talent now."

Every guest at the barbeque hopped into their cars and followed the two to Silly Sally's. In the parking lot, Woods pulled out his Nike-sponsored putter and taunted the teen, "where's your endorsment deal?"

Unfortunately for Woods, the course would allow only the brightly colored balls rented at the counter.

"You can bring whatever putter you want, but not your own balls. I'm not going to have every Tom, Dick and Sally screw with my course and play as many times as they want, even if they're allowed into the Champions Room at Augusta," said Silly Sally's owner, Sally Armstrong. She then tied a balloon into a gazelle and pretended it was being chased by a balloon lion. "They don't call me silly for nothing."

Before they teed up for the first hole, Jake had a burst of bravado. "Hey old man, I beat you, you give me one of your green jackets." Woods responded, "I beat you, you wash my Cadillac. For a year. With detailing. And you'll wear a valet's jacket. And call me El Tigre," said with a spanish accent.

The match started fairly even with both players starting the match with three pars in a row, followed by two birdies each. It wasn't until the fifth hole when Woods hit the paddle of a windmill that the match started to get interesting. Jacobs jumped ahead two strokes. On the seventh hole loopty-loop Tiger made up the difference when Jake missed and had to go "the long way."

"I started to get a little scared, but then I became determined," said Jacobs.

On the ninth hole, Jake scored a hole-in-one when he chose the correct tube of three. Woods had to two putt.

From there, Jake never let go of the lead. By the twelfth hole he had a three stroke lead, by the 17th, a seven.

"Woods just fell apart, like he was Phil Mickleson on day four or something," said Jason Jacobs.

"The color just drained out of Tiger's face on the seventeeth hole. On the eighteenth, it looked like he might vomit," said Sheklow.

Jake demanded that Woods rush home and get the green jacket. A desolate Woods climbed into his Cadillac and drove away only to return a half an hour later, green jacket in hand.

"I don't know which one this is," Woods said as he put it on Jake, "but I hope it's not my first one."

Woods refused to comment on the story and left near tears.

Monday, August 15

While You Were Gone, Part Deux

"Dearest, could you pass me my tourniquet? Thank you. I've got enough for both of us, if you'd like to try some."
"No, thank you."
"I was really thinking we could do this together, me and you. It will be our one truly great adventure."
"I think I'd just like to watch this film right now."
"Which one are you watching."
"Wild Strawberries."
"Ah yes. Delightful film isn't it."
"I've only just begun."
"Yikes. It always bites just a little when the needle goes in. There it is. Yes, there it is."
"Euphoria. Unabashed euphoria."
"You know that scene in the Count of Monte Cristo where he's in the cave and he tries Hashish, well, it's just that fantastic."


"It's sort of like reading Keats for the first time and truly understanding."


"Or that very first orgasm with the awkward, nebbish girl who always sat in the back of your honors classes but could suck the life out of Liberace."


"Or when I first heard Yo-Yo Ma playing Bach."


"Or when MacNeill left the MacNeill/Lehrer hour and it was just The Newhour with Jim Lehrer. Don't you remember that?"
"Yes, I do."
"It's just that fantastic."


"Tell me what you're feeling."
"Oh, honey, let's watch Cumshooters 4. Ingmar Bergman is good in his own time, but that time is not now."
"Watch as sorority sluts swallow cum from gigantic rock hard cocks. Interesting subtitle."
"Let's be serious, that's an advertising blurb. The subtitle is 'Black Dudes/White Bitches."
"Racial tolerance and everything."
"What was that? Oh-hoh! That was a huge wad wasn't it?"
"A huge what?"
"Wad. Of cum. You're not that daft."
"Did she really just lick that off her lips and swallow it?"


"That can't be real ejaculate. That's just not physically possible."
"It's all in good fun, dear."


"How is she not bleeding from that thing?"
"Practice makes perfect!"


"I can't believe I just vomited on my mother's antique rug."

While You Were Gone

"While you were gone I took up smoking."
"Smoking, dear?"
"Camel menthol lights, would you care for one?"
"No, thank you. Honey, I was gone for two weeks."
"I also tried heroin and, I think, I might be addicted. At least that's what Rachel, my dealer, said."
"What are these?"
"I picked those up at Fantasyland around the corner. I thought we might be able to enjoy them together."
"This woman is having sex with a German shepard."
"Dearest, let's be serious, that's a mutt."
"These girls look like they couldn't be 17."
"The woman at the counter assured me that all the magazines in the store were entirely legal--if only barely legal. She said that with an impish grin I couldn't quite grasp."
"I imagine these DVDs are of a similar illicit nature?"
"No, those are the Ingmar Bergman films we reserved at the library."
"Ah yes, Wild Strawberries, Illicit Interlude, The Pleasure Garden and The Seventh Seal."
"What would you think of including Rachel in some love making?"


"The last time I purchased, she offered."


"If it's cleanliness you're worried about, she assured me the best."


"Dearest, dearest, where are you going? Dearest!"


"I didn't sleep with her while you gone. If that's what you're worried about."


"She also assured me she voted for John Kerry and she's had an abortion before."


"Dearest, what's wrong?"
"I think I'd like to watch The Seventh Seal right now."
"Well then, I'll just swing by Rachel's--would you like anything?"

and from here I have no idea where to go... actually I think I started forcing it after the Ingmar Bergman joke.

Saturday, August 13


Since the penis is the defining feature of a man, is it sexed by 'he'? For example:

The quick brown penis jumped over the lazy dog. He nearly tripped and fell, but then he would have not been quick.

Similarly, is a vagina sexed in the 'she?'

"Now is the time for all good vaginas to come to the aid of their country," screamed a very proactive vagina. She then yelled, "I, as a vagina, feel that we, as vaginas, should band together and rebel against the oppressive forces arrayed against us." The other vaginas chuckled at her and then went back to knitting.

It seems vaginas or penises are always referred to possesively: "Terry's penis" or "Heather's vagina." What if you are referring to an inspecific penis or a dismembered vagina? Say for example you didn't know whose penis was in your apartment, "would someone please take it outside?" knowing full well that that penis was male.

"Would someone pick that vagina up off the floor, it's starting to smell." "It" seems so rude, ineffective and unfamiliar. "Would someone pick that vagina up off the floor, she's beginning to smell." "She" has the rosy charm of a fireplace on a snowy December Thursday.

Sing a Christmas Song Bitches!

Last night I was awoken from a deep sleep by the loving sound a caroling. Caroling in FUCKING August! Twelve men and women standing outside my house, singing and beaming with the love of their lord. IN FUCKING AUGUST! So I rose out of my bed, went to the bathroom (cause I totally had to go) and then let the blinds up. 

For those of you that don’t know it, I live in a castle. A Real castle; the kind that King Arthur lived in. The kind with a Mote, huge walls, and most importantly, Hot Oil! I had used this deterrent on the likes of nasty trick or treaters, unwanted pop-in's, and ho-bo’s. 

Right before I began what was going to be a wonderfully therapeutic drenching, I looked down upon these gentile singers, and saw not fear, but love. They weren’t singing in August to upset me, but to remind me to be thankful all year round. That maybe if we all could just sing one song together as One World, we could end all our problems. Hunger, War, Rash's; any and all problems we the human race could join together in peace (this doesn't not apply to cyborgs, mermen, or cute sad eyed puppies).

But then the rope slipped and the singers were covered in burning hot oil. The smell was actually worse than the screams. I did say I was sorry though. But you know how it goes. You can’t take back something like that, as much as you wish you could. When I awoke this morning there was a candle light vidual going on for the fallen carolers. "Jokes on you jerks," I said. "The suns coming up, and I this castle still has a legion of archers ready at my comand. FIRE!".

"Hey Olde Fashion!"

Yesterday I was on my usual Thursday Afternoon Jog around campus. It was a beautiful Monday morning and I saw my olde timey friend Pirate Gabe. Gabe’s an olde fiend of mine from the days when the Internet was new, and gangbang wasn’t an everyday word. 

As I said, Gabe’s a Pirate. The kind of Pirate you’d bring home to your family, unless you have lots of gold coins lying around your home. That’d just be an accident waiting to happen. He has a wooden leg and eats two steaks with every meal. He once told me it was for spiritual practices, but I didn’t believe Robot Jesus was into food. 

Anyways, Gabe tells me that there is a reunion going on at our olde timey skool for the misunderstood and misspelled. All our olde schoolmates would be there and I should come along. It was sure to be a blast. The four P’s for sure: Pie, pizza and plenty of punching. 

Well I sure wanted to come, but there’s this dumb thing called an INVITATION that I didn’t receive. Call me olde fashion (“Hey Olde Fashion!”) Yes…yes….oh, sorry. As I was saying, I think an invitation is the polite way to invite a person to attend a gathering. Whether it be a party, a Bris, or a Good Olde Fashion Hanging. Invitations are the way to go. 

It’s NOT that had. You want some one to come, INVITE THEM. If not, fuck ‘em.


"People in Hollywood are not showmen, they're maintenance men, pandering to what they think their audiences want."--Terry Gilliam

It begins...

The entire scope of history has brought us to this point. Marx predicted this when he stated the four periods of human history: 1) Feudalism 2) Capitalism 3) Socialism and 4) Pardon My Juice. Revelations 54:9:5 states: "Lo, the end of times shall begin whence nine cats are born out of the skull of a dead dolphin and three shaggy and confused college friends begin writing heretical jokes and publishing them via a networks of mechanical abacuses." Pythagoras, who believed that numbers were the key to our spiritual self, stated: "Two longs line connected by a short lines is called an acute triangle; or Pardon My Juice; or armageddon--armageddon, of course, being Spartan for bird flu." Before the music died and Buddy Holly crashed into a building, the normally love obssessed shouted the following "Pardon Me, Father, for I have... Juice--"

Thusly, it begins. Thusly, it begins.