Miracle Bible!!!

Oh, the Lord never ceases performing miracles!

A compact bible, and yet it has LARGE PRINT!!!

Only the Lord could complete such an incongruous task! Only the Lord could create "Jumbo Shrimp". And only the Lord can spread His word in large print, for all to plainly see, and yet in a form so compact, it is effortless to carry to the masses who yearn for His gospel!!!

Truly, miracles become commonplace with the Lord! Let all who would doubt Him gaze upon the wonder of a compact bible... with large print!!!


What? It's a reference bible?

Oh, well never mind. Anyone can make a book smaller with larger print if they leave stuff out.

Never mind.

Game of Thrones Fan Fiction

NOTE: Game of Thrones fan fiction generally explores the wide array of characters from the novels and television series. I believe my Game of Thrones fan fiction is far superior, because it exclusively follows the two best elements of the show, The Midget and The Blonde Girl. By focusing on these two essential characters, I am able to make something awesome even MORE awesome. Imagine a Game of Throne world that does NOT involve old, boring men talking about obtuse Westeros history, or normal-sized people doing things, or non-The Blonde Girl women. I cut straight to what everyone wants, what everyone is waiting for... The Midget and The Blonde Girl.


Game of Thrones: A Song of Midgets and The Blond Girl

MIDGET KING: (sitting on his throne, next to his wife, The Blonde Girl) Bring the The Midget before me! (two midget guards bring The Midget to the throne)
THE MIDGET: You can never do anything yourself, can you Midget King? Always your lackeys doing your bidding.
MIDGET KING: Shut your impudent midget mouth!
(Scene cuts to the The Blonde Girl for 20 seconds)
THE MIDGET: You seem content to sit on your midget throne and idle away your time. Do me the favor of speaking directly, for I am not so idle, and my time is not so free.
(Scene cuts to the The Blonde Girl for 30 seconds)
MIDGET KING: So it will be, Midget! I am exiling you from Midget's Landing, to the North at Tinyfell. Your midget treachery will burden me no longer!
THE MIDGET: You're nothing but a miserable midget, Midget King.
(Scene cuts to the The Blonde Girl for 40 seconds)
MIDGET KING: Midget guards! Take this disgusting midget away from my Midget Court immediately! His midget-face disgusts me.
THE MIDGET: You haven't seen the last of me, Midget King! I'm thinking of a clever plan already!
(Scene cuts to the The Blonde Girl for 40 seconds)

Meanwhile, across the Midget Sea...
THE BLONDE GIRL: (sad, looking out over the Midget Horde) I am so sad, I spend my days longing for home, looking out at this Midget Horde. (shot lingers for 20 seconds)
MIDGET SLAVE: Blonde Girl, we have prepared your midget-feast.
THE BLONDE GIRL: I tire of eating midget. Can you not prepare me something else to eat? (shot lingers for 20 seconds)
MIDGET SIR MORMONT: Blonde Girl, the Midget Horde only has two things in abundance... grass, and midgets. Humans cannot eat grass, so I suggest you get used to eating midget.
THE BLONDE GIRL: I am the wife of Khal Midget, leader of the Midget Horde! (shot lingers for 40 seconds). There is nothing else I can eat!?
MIDGET SLAVE: We will slay a mini-goat.
THE BLONDE GIRL: I will bath again, now. (shot lingers for 40 seconds)

Meanwhile again, in the North...
THE MIDGET: Midget Bastard Son of Midget Ned Starks, what do you see when you look at me?
MIDGET BASTARD: Is this a trick question?
THE MIDGET: You see a midget, just as the rest of the world sees a midget. And because I am a midget, I must rely on my wits. My handsome midget brother may be able to get by on his looks, but not I. I must use my midget cunning, Midget Bastard!
(cuts to The Blonde Girl's bath scene for 15 minutes)
MIDGET BASTARD: Do not call me that!
THE MIDGET: Whatever should I call you? You ARE a midget bastard. Own up to what you are, and no one can ever use it against you.
(cuts to The Blonde Girl's bath scene for 15 minutes)
MIDGET BASTARD: Remember 15 minutes ago, what you said?
THE MIDGET: Yes...
(cuts to The Blonde Girl's bath scene for 15 minutes)
MIDGET BASTARD: You were right. You are wise above all others in this Midget Kingdom.
THE MIDGET: Call me by real name, Midget Tyrion. And I will call you by yours, Midget Jon Snow... Now, if I am as (cuts to The Blonde Girl drying herself for 5 minutes) smart as you think I am, I will need a most clever ruse to put the Midget King in his place! Follow me to my Thinking Trampoline, I must jump on it for several minutes to devise a plan.
(Cuts to trampoline, where The Midget and The Blonde Girl jump for a half-hour, or so.)

A Warning To All History-Making Professional Athletes

In light of the ball used for Derek Jeter's 3,000th hit being returned to him by a Yankees fan, let my thoughts be absolutely clear to all athletes on the cusp of a record-setting performance.

I am not returning any of your valuable shit for tickets, handshakes, autographs, etc. I am selling it to the highest bidder.

Many sports fans will gladly return historic home run balls, some worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, presumably out of some combination of adoration and generosity, or possibly because they feel pressured to do so.

Once again, let me be clear to all history-making athletes. I will not give you a quarter-of-a-million dollar ball in exchange for a handshake, some luxury box seats, and a signed bat. I'm taking that ball you hit into my section down to Sotherby's, selling it to the highest bidder, and buying a house.

You, the record-setting athlete, can go fuck yourself.

Take for your consideration of the above-linked article about a 23 year-old moron returning the Jeter ball.

"It didn't cross my mind until they asked me what I wanted," he said. "The only thing I could think of was a few signed balls would be nice, and to meet him. It wasn't about the money. It was about a milestone and I wasn't going to take that away from him. Money's cool and all, but I'm only 23 years old. I have a lot of time to make that."

"Mr. Jeter deserved it," Lopez said. "It's all his."

Lopez, who sells cell phones for a living, already was receiving calls from friends and co-workers

.

Essentially, a grown man who sells cell phones for a living gives away what amounts to a very nice house to another grown man who makes $15,000,000.00 this year. Because he thought it would be "nice" to get a few signed balls and meet him.

Sure, generosity in any form is rare, and should always be welcomed by society. Except when it involves a workingman giving away property that may equal six or seven years of salary to a professional athlete, for whom the property amounts to a trinket to be displayed in his second winter home, worth about three days of salary. Just because the workingman presumably had a poster of said athlete in his bedroom as a teenager.

In that rarest of cases, what appears as generosity to the naked eye is actually deep, thorough, stupidity. You would need to be a very dumb human being to give the ball away.

What a stupid, fucking idiot.

So, you are forewarned, Andrew McCutcheon. If you hit a grand slam in the bottom of the ninth of the World Series, after you called your shot for a boy dying of cancer, and you want the ball back to present it to that boy, and I catch it... well, fuck you both. Make the highest offer.

Sidney Crosby cures that same pediatric cancer at center ice of Pens-Flyers game, and then triumphantly whips his gloves into the crowd? Keep an eye out on eBay for that one, I'm paying off my car.

Derek Jeter smacks his 4,000th hit into the bleachers of PNC Park? Guess what? I don't give a shit about meeting you, or having a signed ball. Let's start the bidding at $2,000,000.00.

Now that you have been warned, athletes, you may proceed.

Post-Script: What a stupid, stupid, fucking idiot. Seriously, how many cell phones do you need to sell to earn $250,000.00??? 250,000? Yeah, you have plenty of time to make that money, assuming you plan to live to be 240 years old. Idiot.

What's The Best Thing About Summer???

Getting beat-off by the sun!!!

Looks like Mr. Sun has that monster worked to the "Danger" zone.

USA Today is probably flattering the American public with that thermometer... most people aren't getting past 90 degrees, let alone 100 or 120. But, flattery is always welcome. As is a good 'ol celestial tug-job!

Thanks to Schuyler Sheaffer for passing along this gem of an infographic.

Things That Work Better Than My Comcast DVR

-Communism, in both theory AND practice.
-The "rhythm method" in Irish-Catholic households.
-The "run-and-shoot" offense, in pee-wee football.
-Russian motorcycles.
-Jerry Lewis Holocaust movies.
-"Crossing the streams", in Ghostbusters.
-Actual magic, as opposed to illusions.
-Polish cavalry charges in World War II.
-A Nintendo cartridge, after blowing on it.
-The clear plastic audience-covers, at a Gallagher concert.
-Arquebuses.
-Hockey in Atlanta.
-Art History degrees.
-Working on your novel while acting as a winter caretaker, in Stanley Kubrick movies.
-Mark Hamill's career, in roles not involving children's space fantasies.
-Army Corps of Engineers levies.
-Chevrolet Covairs

My Fevered, Absurd Nightmare Appears On Basic Cable

I'm of the opinion that dreams are mostly poor avant garde theater, made up of the worthless detritus of our minds. I'm sure they serve an important function, though I am equally certain that trying to divine any meaning from them is a ridiculous pursuit.

All that being said, it's not surprising that I rarely remember my dreams. They're usually not worth remembering, like a poorly directed commercial, or a rambling and incoherent plot in a novel.

Unless the dream involves Gary Busey and a person in a hamster suit.

What made this dream even more bizarre is that it appeared on local basic cable. Or maybe it wasn't a dream. Though it had a fevered, dream-like feel, nonetheless.

Gary Busey appears on screen/in my mind, and makes a lewd comment about a young girl. Busey turns to the camera/my mind's eye, and reassures us/me that his comment was directed at a "cute, little" car, not the girl. So far, nothing out of the ordinary.

It proceeds to get weird. Busey announces that he has come to Pittsburgh, and made contact with a group known as "The Party Patrol". A montage of tableaus over Busey's shoulder introduces us to the group, which appears to consist of the previously mentioned young girl, a man in a hat, and someone in a hamster costume. "The Party Patrol" is seen in various locations around the city.

The commercial/dream takes an ominous turn. Busey announces, "I know I'm gonna be stayin' for awhile," and this comes across as much more of a threat than an idle comment. When he declares that he and "The Party Patrol", "will be lookin' for you," the effect is quite chilling.

Busey abruptly re-appears in a blazer and open collar shirt. The commercial/dream ends. I wake in a cold sweat. Or maybe just the next commercial started.

Was it just a dream? Random images of deranged actors and hamsters, poorly plotted and rambling, like any other dream. Was it real?

I hope to never find out.

Heart-Warming Free-Throw Article

This contest was originally called "Shoot For Your Academic Life, Poor Kids".

Almost as heartwarming as the boy who shared the grand prize 6-ways in the "Punt, Pass, and Kick For A New Liver For Your Ailing Mother" contest.

Vignettes From The Life Of Jaromir Jagr

Jaromir Jagr, age 7:
JAGR: Mother, I have always dreamed of having a sandwich for lunch with peanut butter on it. I would not ask for any others sandwich if you also put raspberry jelly on it. I will soon inform you what type of sandwich I want for lunch.
(MOTHER JAGR hands Jaromir PB&J sandwich she was making while he was speaking)
JAGR: No, I have decided I would like salami and mustard.

Jaromir Jagr, age 14
JAGR: Tereza, ever since primary school, I have wanted nothing more than to take you to junior promenade. You are the most beautiful girl in all of Czechoslovakia. I would labor for an entire year, without income, if you will take my offer.
TEREZA: Yes, Jaromir, I would love to join...
JAGR: I have decided to take Martin Straka to the junior promenade.
TEREZA: ...
JAGR: If I hurt you, I apologize. I didn't mean it, but this is my life and I want to make the choice.


Jaromir Jagr, age 19
JAGR: Since I was little boy in Kladno, it has been my dream to own a Chevrolet Camaro. I would always say, "I do not care what Chevrolet Camaro costs in American dollars, I will pay that price gladly!" Chevrolet Camaro has always been in my heart.
CHEVY SALESMAN: OK, you've been going on like this for 5 days, and frankly, you are starting to scare away other paying customers. Could you please leave now?
JAGR: I have purchased Ford Mustang yesterday.
CHEVY SALESMAN: (exasperated)
JAGR: I hope you are not mad.


Jaromir Jagr, age NA (ruminating on his death bed)
JAGR: Our great Czech writer Milan Kundera once wrote, "We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come."
TEARFUL FAMILY MEMBER: Yes, life confounds us to the end...
JAGR: I know exactly what I want, as I have always known what I wanted. I will be buried in Philadelphia. Unless you can find a cheaper plot elsewhere.

FIN