Chocolate Bunnies

Here is a great post from our friend and soothsayer, Joe Gordon. He gives some insight and contemporary theory regarding this holiday time. It's very interesting and after all there are no large white rabbits hiding chocolate eggs in the forest.

Easter

Sad Day in Minnesota

Suddenly, Prince Harry... Not so funny anymore....

Going to Hell

I'm definately going to hell for this one....

Mary

"Nip/Tuck: Another Season, Another Episode."

Smart upstate consultation office.

Dr Troy: "Rev. Dalton, Tell me what you don't like about yourself?"

Rev. Dalton: "My ballsack."

Dr. Macnamara: "Your ballsack?"

Rev. Dalton: "Yes. I want a furry ballsack as opposed to a hairy ballsack."

The two doctors look at each other, puzzled.

Dr. Macnamara: "A furry ballsack?"

Rev. Dalton: "A furry ballsack, yes. I want a real fur graft onto my balls.... Beaver fur, actually."

Dr. Troy: "Is this some sort of sexual fantasy, Reverend? Are you experiencing thoughts of bestiality... Self depreciation... I mean, Beaver? Seriously...

Rev. Dalton looks blank.

Dr. Macnamara: "Is this idea simply your desire to take the form of an animal? Does your urge manifest from a basic primal instinct?

Rev. Dalton looks puzzled.

"No, not all. I have made friends with a couple of Hooters girls downtown and they both prefer me to have a smooth ballsack before they will go down on me."

Dr. Macnamara is shocked and offended. He holds up his hands in disgust.

"We simply cannot do this procedure. It's against the whole morality of this place."

Rev. Dalton: "Are you sure? I was of the understanding that you were the very best and specialised in the more contemporary requests."

Dr. Troy: "Don't they just want you to shave that region?"

Dr. Macnamara: "Rev. Dalton. There are what you say, 'contemporary requests' and there is pure cruelty. We would have all sorts of protests on our hands. I mean, where would you expect us to come across beaver fur for your ballsack?"

Rev. Dalton: "I have that covered."

He nonchalantly glances at both doctors and then gestures a finger for them to wait. He reaches down down to the side of his chair where he has a sportsbag. He pulls out a clear plastic bag which holds the dripping, bloody corpse of a stinking, rotten animal.
Dr. Macnamara clutches his mouth as the smell reaches them across the table. He retches almost. He rises to his feet and orders the Reverend out of the room.

Dr. Troy (leaning over the table): "Can I get the numbers of those Hooters girls?"

Cue opening title sequence.

I'm No Driver.

I'm no driver, that's for sure. The Lord blessed me with many other skills.

For example, I am quite adept at scrabble. I could tie my shoelaces from an early age. I often made a few pennies in my early youth from such a personal advantage as my classmates in 4B, as many had not yet learned, I can fold napkins into elaborate designs, I inherited a pretty useful photographic memory, I am a good listener, not much of a lover and less of a fighter.

But away from the roads for a second because I'm talking about pavements today in that, Is there some sort of pedestrian right of way law that I am not aware of?

Seriously, I'm walking along minding my own business and checking out the odd tit and ass of course, but nothing that would excuse the amount of people walking into my side or insisting on cutting in front of me.

Now, I'm a placid fella. I am a mellow kind of guy, Jesus gave me the calm fortitude that I live by each day. I'm a pretty stand up guy too, I can hold my own and I am not one to be shoved into by some prissy little englishman late for a meeting. I am also a kind hearted person so I will gladly help the fella to his impatient feet when he recoils off my taut frame and onto the ground.

The Lord blessed me my people of the fair city, but I'm no driver.