d Pardon My Juice: January 2006

Sunday, January 29

The Publishable Conversations of a Few Minutes Ago (1/29/06)

We discussed:

!!! Bilton Merle being used thrice: 1) as a warm-up comic; 2) on a Johnny Carson-like show; 3) as a voice-over at the end. He will have a drummer cohort who will provide rimshots and appropriate reaction. "In the Ass" is always a topper: "What's better than doing your gramma? Doing her in the ass!"

@@@ "We put the cute in executions." A school board meeting wherein a textbook publishers hawks his puppied version of history.

### Super Secret Monkey Lab--an animated slice of life of Super Secret Monkey Lab's Nigel, William, Trevor and Mr. Bubbles. Except we don't have the money--or know how--to animate and, therefore, use an overhead.

$$$ The Power Team: tearing up phone books in the name of Christ and such

%%% The Anal Sex Police

^^^ The Dating Game with Monsters

&&& Turn Based Reality.
"I have to pee."
"It's not your turn." multiplied by seven billion
an animated hand picks us up for moving out of turn

*** The "Do-Something!" Game (the simplest game in the world)

((( We'd also all like more silly, more strange

))) Next meeting in Dr. Terrett's basement on Thursday at nine-thirty.

___ Ian and I didn't discuss this, but this is what I imagine it'd go like, "Kellen's basement, really?" "Yes, Greg, Kellen's basement." "You think we could take him?" "Take him?" "You know what I'm saying." "Yes, Greg, we could take him." "Good. That Kellen is a shifty character." "Your improv skills have really diminished in the six months you haven't been in improv." "Was I ever really that good to begin with?" "You know, Greg, that's a good question." "I purchased a gun yesterday." "You were never good at the non-sequitor joke." "It's not a joke. I really bought a gun yesterday." "What are you going to do with 'your gun?'" "I don't know. Just hold on to it." "Wow." "Ian, this isn't a joke. It's a plea for help. I bought a gun yesterday." "Okay, Greg." "Ian, please help me. My life is devoid of meaning and purpose." "Very funny. Ha-ha." "No, seriously. I am in need of help. Please call someone. Do something." "Okay, 'I'm calling the police.'" "You just won the bronze in the 'Do-Something' Game!"

The Death Penalty

I really don't understand the death penalty.

Why do we punish people for murdering by mudering them?

Aren't we just condoning the act we're trying to condemn them for?

That's why I think all murderers should be raped.

Get a big, beefy prison guard with a lot of issues about his father and too much hair on his arms, feed him some Viagra, lock the couple in the gas chamber and just let the security guard have some fun.

And, you know, since we were going to kill him already--it's not like the murderer has any rights left--prisons could make an extra buck or two selling the video on a website.

Wouldn't it be more satisfying for the victim's family? They could be in the little gallery and watch the guy really, you know, be in pain. None of this lethal injection stuff, where the prisoner silently and coldly and clinically stops moving but the guy could run around the little chair and the guard would have to catch him and get him into the right position and really just go to town.

I suppose, afterwards, we could kill 'em. I mean, really, who cares? They were taught the lesson they deserve.

Friday, January 27

"Juice" writer Admits to Lying on Oprah

In a shocking display of anger and rage, Oprah Winfrey has kicked another great authors out of the famed “Book Club”.

Author Kellen Terrett’s memoir “How I fucked the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleading Team and other Tales of Heroism” has been official removed from and disgraced in front of millions of views this afternoon. The shamed author stated to Oprah “Look, I didn’t fuck all of them. But most of those other stories are true. I really Did kill President Kennedy”.

Fans of both the book and the show were shock to hear such remarks from one of the highest selling authors since Hitler’s “Kamf and Circumstances”.

“Why’d he tell us that his Penis was so big they cry’d for thar Mothers?!” asked Chelsea Bigs from Atlanta. “T’s like he’s one a them Government spy’s try’n to beat up a Iraqi and not tell’n us he took photos, or somethang”.

Oprah at one point went down on her knees and begged Terrett to take back the fact that he’d lied. Her wishing for everyone at home to turn off their sets and pray. His only reply was to say that he had wanted to engage in intercourse with at least half the NFL teams cheerleaders but was unable to become erect. He admitted to having lied about that comment later.

No answers were given as to the size of Mr. Terrett’s head is the photos or video taken during the program. Members of the audience kept yelling “Why’s your Head SO BIG!”. The author would simply respond “ Takes one to know one, Ass Face!”.

Ms. Winfrey finally placed a shotgun barrel in her enormous mouth and cried “Please Kellen, Just say you Fucked them. Say You Did em!” The author, strewn with gilt, kissed her on the check and left the stage.

No further word at this time to the whereabouts of the author, the host, or the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders.

Wednesday, January 25

Maxim Gorky Resurrected

Famed Russian and early Soviet writer Maxim Gorky was resurrected yesterday due to unknown forces. A caretaker at the cemetary found the freezing and dishelveled writer directly above his coffin.

"What I don't understand is why Gorky? He's an excellent writer, but why not really the great Russian writer. Why not Pushkin? Or Tolstoy or Chekhov or Dostoyevsky?"

Once Gorky became of aware of what year it was, what had happened since he died and what had suddenly happened to him, he too expressed his confusion, "There's a million people in the world more interesting and more important than me."

At the end of the interview, he shrugged and walked away lost in thought. He bent down--apparently, he had just found ten dollars.

Tuesday, January 24

Eighteen Questions NOT to ask the Australian Spider Boar

1- So what are you, a Spider or a Boar?
2- Are you tasty?
3- Are you related to Miss Piggy in any way?
4- Were you one of the Boars on the Emmy Award Winning Drama “Lost”?
5- Do you get board easily?
6- Got any insider trading advice for a guy who’s just starting out?
7- What’s your opinion on this whole Roe vs. Wade thing?
8- Can I ride you?
9- What’d you score on your Australian Standardized Educational Tests?
10- Who’d you fuck a Koala?
11- Rod Stewart or Phil Collins?
12- What’s it like being hunted for sport?
13- Can I crash at your place tonight?
14- You Hungry? Ribs sound good.
15- It is true you have a curly penis?
16- Did you see “Brokeback Mountain?”
17- Do you get over to the Great Barrier Reef much?
18- Haven’t I seen your Father hanging in some Lodge?

Sunday, January 22

Boy Scout Merit Badges That Are Out-of-Style

*Snake Charming
*Whale Hunting
*Knife Fights
*Velociped Repair
*Girl Scouting
*Scoutmaster Baiting
*Multi-Cultural Tolerance
*Screen Writing
*International Finance
*Spear Fishing
*Cold War Espionage
*Ragtime Piano
*Citizenship in the World
*Verse Grammar
*Children's Verse
*Method Acting
*Greek Numerals
*Non-compound Bow Hunting
*Urban Living
(that's really enough for now)

Friday, January 20

It's younkTonian you ditz

Well everybody it looks like Greg went and jumped back on the fag wagon. ALL ABOARD!!!! Next Stop, Butt Sex.

Greg has also informed me that form now on he is to be referred to as Balls Fondleton (Mr. B, Mr. F, Mr. Beef, B-Fondue, and Knuckles are all acceptable abbreviations)

And here's a question that Greg didn't want to address with the group so I'll just get it out there in dialogue form to provide some sense of context:

G- "Jon, do you play with your asshole while you masterbate?"

J- "Greg that's a very unusual question to ask somebody. Why, do you?"

G- "Yes........I mean.........(awkward silence)"

J- "Greg, why do you keep sniffing and licking your fingers?"

G- "mmm Chocolate."

J- "Greg that doesn't smell like chocolate."

G- "Milk, milk, lemonade. Around the corner tasty yum yums."

Thursday, January 19

a younkonian conundrum

what's the difference between statuary and statutory?

i don't know.

Tuesday, January 17

yet another question

if no jacket is truly required, why is phil wearing one in the liner notes?

at that point, isn't a jacket optional?

or is it some kind of complicated irony, inferencing that, in fact, a jacket is required?

Monday, January 16

Dye Princess Die

What's the difference between usurp and syrup?......

I don't know.

Saturday, January 14

Ragtime Fun-a-long

To be sung to a rag time beat

Baby I'm gonna love you
Love you till the end of time
Watermelon fireextinguisher
Purple irradecent lime

Squared hippopatimus dog fight
Weddin'rang exisits in the mind eye
Ether marmalade canned food
Why don't you be part of mine

Grab a dog bone doo doo
Nothing rhymes with orange
I adore all you
Why don' cha' come drive my -

Whipper-will weepin' willow
Cubist buffilo wings
Bald spot jack and coke face
Baby don't you hear me sing

Wednesday, January 11


(uhh, let's say four boys are running around playing tag. One stops:)

1. Let's play superpowers!
The rest. Yes, let's!
1. I have the power of flying!
2. I have the power to turn invisible!
3. I have the power to shoot fire from my hips!
4. I have the power to change men's souls!
(1, 2, 3, pause briefly, but continue playing)
3. Hey, I'm shooting fire at you!
2. Yeah, but you don't know where I am, so how can you shoot fire at me?
1. I'm flying around both of you and making a tornado to suck you both into the sky.
2. You're not Superman, you can just fly!
1. Well--
4. I'm teaching you all that love can heal all wounds!
(1, 2, 3, pause more noticibly, 2 rolls his eyes)
1. Fine, if I can't make a tornado, watch out because I'm about to ram into you faster than a speeding bullet!
2 and 3: You're not Superman, you can just fly!
1. Then I'm just going to ram into you as hard as I can. (he rams into 3 sort of hard)
4. I'm ascending to the right hand of God, where I will live in everlasting peace and harmony with my father and our creator!
(1 and 2 stop and sigh. 3 looks ashamed)
4. Wait, wait, first I have to be sacrificed on a cross with two petty criminals. (pause) C'mon guys, crucify me!
3. (quietly) I'm sorry guys. I never should have brought him to Sunday school with me.
2. Being Jesus is not a superpower.
1. That's why we stopped playing superheroes, so you'd stop being Jesus.
4. I'm not being Jesus, I just have the divine grace of God. That's my superpower.
3. I've told you a bunch Sammy, only Jesus has the divine grace of God while on Earth and Jesus isn't a superhero. At least not like The Human Torch or Colossus or something.
1. Yeah, just have super-strength or telekinesis or something.
4. But nothing's more super than making the weak strong with the word of--
2. Maybe you should just go home.
3. C'mon Sammy, I'll walk you home.

Tuesday, January 10


That's right, 'Aidell's' meatballs.......CHICKEN meatballs. I got the pineapple teriaki kind but there's also chipotle and sun dried tomato. mmm mmm. I think I'm gonna make me some meat ball kabobs. Get some pineapple, red onion and maybe some red and green peppers. Drizzle on some teriaki sauce for some zing and BAM!!!!!!! Emeril meet the new Sheriff in town. Forget that I'm the Mayor, no the Govorner, no wait, the next American Idol....... heck with meatballs like this I could very well become the next President of the United states and I'm talking in the next week.


"So Mr. President, how did you go from a part time employee at a high end kitchen supply store to becoming the icon you are today?

"Well I was at Safeway and I looked down and saw these prepacked meatballs that looked really tasty. Next thing I know, here I am, leader of the free world."

A Brewer, a Mexican Ghost Hunter, and Me.

I was almost run over by a Beer Truck today. It was a normal Mildly Annoying Winter in the Pacifistic North West. I walked away from another Roller Coaster Laugh Ride I call our writers meetings daydreaming. Thinking of what it would be like to have a hip drug addiction or to be in Jail and part of a gang called the “Pink Dinosaurs”. In my dreams I saw myself as short-tempered Mexican American with dreams of marring an overweight white girl from the Southern Nevada.

Little did I know that my very daydream would be what was driving my would be killer. Manny, age 39, Born in East Dallas, had his own daydreams while driving the truck. As a child his mother had told him stories of ghost and ghouls. At this moment in time Manny’s thoughts were of the classic Bill Murray film “Ghost Busters”. Seeing himself defeat Gozer, the demon god, his imaginings distracted him from watching the road.

Our fates would be drawn together by something even greater than either of us, a dream of one Harry Schmidt, a beer brewer from the Canadian plains. As a child his life was filled with the stories of doctors and lawyers. Not that his family were Doctors or Lawyers, they just happen to know and enjoy telling stories about them. Harry hated what his childhood had been and wanted to drown his horrible memories in beer. But he longed for a beer that could sink the recollections like Napoleon in a sinking boat. So he created Schmidt Beer, the Beer community’s biggest and most historic failure.

Our three fates brought together.

But I saw the truck coming and stepped back onto the curb. Manny snapped out of his dream and realized he was late for his delivery of 35-year-old Schmidt Beer. And dear old Mr. Schmidt died at the age of 67, due to a mix up between his Doctor and his Lawyer.

Monday, January 9

another question

do you think hollywood is remaking all these old classics like the honeymooners and guess who's coming to dinner with black people because black people didn't have the money to buy televisions or go to movies when the originals were made?

a question

if power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely, doesn't that make God eternally corrupt?

One note never to forget

Let's here it for our Apes, Kansas City's finest baseball team! That's right 'r' Apes!

Sunday, January 8

Notes from last meeting (1/4/06)

Dr. Terrett had three ideas:

1. Hobo-cats
2. H&R Fuck You
3. Moustache Basketball

Turn The Heaton had three ideas

1. The United Nations of Fictional Lands
2. The Audubon Field Guide to Crooners and Singers of Jazz Standards
3. The "Pardon My Juice" Calendar, in which we pose for a 16-month calendar starting in March posing like one of those Dog or Cat fetish calendars. It's really very funny, I swear.

I_Ped may have had ideas, but there was an alarm clock fiasco.

Anna Nicole Smith/Murhpy Brown was probably diddling with himself at Williams-Sonoma.

Hey there sexy boys

Yes, it's me, Anna Nicole Smith. Perhaps you've seen me in the pages of playboy? Well how about my reality show? Softcore porn movie? Not even the Austrailian MTV VMAs where I painted big MTVs on my big ol' southern style booby tits and showed them to the audience? Whatever, I had sex with an old man and he gave me lots of money so there.

Yes, this is a bucket of Popeye's fried chicken and biskets.

No, you can't have any. It's mine.

Saturday, January 7

Rotten Fruit

So, I realize that I have yet to post my "Season's Greetings" piece, but I think some more relevant, more serious issues have arisen. I was waiting at the Corte Madera mall where I still hold on to, cling if you will, to my shitty retail job at William's Sonoma. I just wanted my pay check but didn't realize I'd arrived 10 minutes before the stores open.

I noticed there was a moderate number of people waiting at the doors with their respective merchandice to be returned. Things that when unwrapped were "what I always wanted" but after a few days were more valueable as store credit or better yet cash in hand, both in a material and sentimental sense. There was the wringing of an upbeat yet suspenseful Danny Elfmanesque soundtrack serving as backround to one of the most mundane Saturday morning backdrops I've ever seen. No eye contact. No conversation. People staring at their watches, their feet, even other people's stuff with those "Oh so, you're too good for one of those, huh? Well I guess that makes you better than me doesn't it," looks on their faces. So little movement accompanied by so little emotion and then a crecendo in the music perfectly timed with the Victoria's Secret manager fumbling her keys, dropping them, and inevitably exposing the top of her ass crack as the thong she was wearing may only have fit right before those hearty Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. Don't get me wrong I thought about humping her right there on the spot, in the store, in the dressing rooms, maybe even invite her down to William's Sonoma for a little romp in the stock room. "You know I open lots of boxes back there baby doll."

"Well maybe you can open my box up and give me your special shipment."

As this was all in my head I don't think it was a good idea I be fondling myself through my pocket. The reality that existed as this fantasy tickled my brain (and I tickled my balls) was that at this point I think the closest to action I'd gotten was the aroused looks of women in their mid 50s (who themselves had not seen a real life erection in 20 years) noticing the bulge in my pants. I quickly adjusted myself, pinning Mr. Winky to my belly with the aid of my pants' waistline. Sure he was sticking out a little but my shirt was long enough.

I tried to clear my mind to settle myself down.

Then I took a moment to reflect. I recalled a writers meeting I was at where we were talking sketches for a comedy show. "Hey you know those girls gone wild movies. What if we did 'Guys gone wild?'" At this moment I died a little inside because I realized that last night I saw an add for guess what.......'Guys Gone Wild'. I'm still searching for the right word to decribe the....irony? of the situation.....the.......deranged reality of it......the........

Then I stepped in it. My answer was there under my feet. At first contact I was sure it was dog shit. Then, upon closer inspection I saw what could have been a pit. Was it a rotten plum, or peach, or maybe even nectarine? Either way, I knew that a deliciously ripe piece of fruit had been disgarded only to become the pasty mass half stuck to my shoe......or worse yet, a dog had picked it up depriving any human from enjoying it's intended purpose as a tasty treat and deficated the remaims here for all to see, pit still intact to remind us all of what could have been.

Sure I can clean my shoes and sure this mess can be cleaned up. But any way you slice this one, by either the hands of man or mother nature, some force has taken the ripe and tasty fruit that was 'Girls Gone Wild' and turned it into a pile of fecal waste that the American people will no doubt step in and say, "Eww! What the fuck is this?