THE WHITEST KIDS YOU KNOW: SKETCH ENTITLED: RIP YOUR DICK OFF: SEEMS TO HAVE PLAGIARIZED AND IDEA FROM ONE OF MY SEVENTH GRADE CLASSMATES, WHICH WE DISCUSSED IN THE COMMON ROOM BEFORE SCHOOL IN THE MORNING. this autobiographical fact made it exponentially a hell of a lot of many times funnier when watching it for the first time.
Bedtime For Chaos Magicians
As I work and think and pray
I cherish every passing day
If one God should help me out
I still would live with faith and doubt.
Theatre of the Absurd Episode 5
The fundamentalist pastor of a rural Baptist church proclaims himself to be free from sin, only to have every slutty whore assed adultery walk into his congregation at the same time and demand that he pay them before he is allowed to go back to his house.
One of the hookers proceeds to tear a page out of a Bible and use it to roll a nice fat joint, until a shrill old lady in an elaborate dress grabs onto her belly button ring and pulls hard enough to liberate it from her navel in a bloody eruption.
“Aaaaargh! Fucking Holy Rollers: just because your orthodoxy puts a cross up your ass doesnt mean you have to ruin everyone else’s time.”
“You, Madam, are the holy roller,” she cries, tossing the bit of jewelry to the ground with a clatter, “Your concerns lie on with the Devil’s weed and the Devil’s seed.”
“If the Devil is the man who’s filled your impressionable mind and emptied your pockets into his collection plate for as long as this God damned church has been open, then yes: his seed was not adequately paid for the last seven times he blasted it into me.”
The Psychopomp Says To Alice
“This ain’t the 1960’s, girl: you don’t have to put jack shit under your tongue to get to Wonderland.”
The Theatre of the Absurd Episode 4
Hermes Trismegistus has been locked in his attic all day. His roomies saw him dissappear with the bong four hours ago, and are waiting in pissed off silence watching TV in total sobriety and discussing how one of them should go back in time to video tape an Ancient Greek theatre production.
Finally, the Magus 8=3 Science Wizard emerges down the staircase ladder to Jacobian Heaven, and is greeted immediately by his homies Albert Einstein and Zoroaster.
“Finally,” Einstein exclaims.
“Whatever you were doing up there better have been good,” Zoroaster punctuates.
“It was,” Hermes reassures, “The bad news is that I ruined you guyses bong by converting it into an alemble: but the good news is that I found a way to make weed buds have sex and reproduce like no tomorrow after being stuffed into a sack next to one another, so that you pay a fraction of the weekly groceries for magickally multiplying marijuana.”
“Fuck yes dude: you’re a Genius. And here I was thinking that I fucked up because my nuclear discoveries were used to make bombs rather than fabricate perfect gold when the government broke into my house and watched me experiment,” Einstein complimented.
“You guys are both going to Hell: I stick with the work of God,” Zoroaster chastized.
“Fuck the work of God,” Hermes replied, “I am the work of God.”
“Some day I do hope to fuck the work of God,” Einstein added.
“That’s interesting: I never knew you felt that way about me.”
“No, you dipshit: I was making a teleological argument: you think that God made women hotter than Hell for no reason and on some random impulse just to see what would happen? Of course he guided the stochastic Darwinian selection process in the way that he did with a handful of ideals in mind.”
“Yeah: that bastard Demiurge was more vacuous and misogynistic than a large stack of fashion and pop culture magazines,” Zoroaster conceded wistfully.
The Theatre of the Absurd: Episode 3
The God who knows everything walks into a Starbucks filled with crystal meth and horny mermaids and says, “I would like to buy a carmel cunt creme for ciento pesos.”
To which the God working behind the counter replies, “They cost twice that much. You, of most people, should know simple exoteric facts such as that.”
The God who knows Everything says, “Yes, but if I consistently knew everything, I would be too easy to believe in.”
“Well, my manager only believes in money, after memorizing Ayn Rand, and counts every God damned coin in the cash register.”
To break a prolonged and awkward silence, a mermaid stumbles up, tweaking balls, and says, “I’m gonna try this shit again and get a lottery scholarship.”
“No you’re not: the very blood in your veins is copyright Starbucks incorporated: you were genetically engineered with a lower IQ to be a more suitable sex object.”
“No fair: you told me I was raised by pirates.”
Theatre of the Absurd Episode 2
Ghandi, Bob Marley, and the biggest drug dealer in Los Angeles are having drinks at a bar on friday night.
The Dealer:
When I’m gonna cap a motherfucker I like something that won’t leave too much of a mess at the scene, but will get the job done.
Ghandi:
Yeah, that was a major concern of mine when I brought down the British Empire. If people knew that I had assassinated all of the officials, I wouldn’t have gonw down in history as a paragon of peaceful power.
-Marley is sleeping with a jar of mayonaisse in his arms and chips scattered around him.
The Dealer:
Yo Marley: wake yo ass up: We’s gonna roll another blunt.
Marley:
Fuck yeah, man: who’s King of the Ganja once again?
Ghandi:
Babylon
Marley:
Not even, man: the ganja is God’s gift to his chosen.
Ghandi:
Yes even: you technically buy your weed from street folks who are part of a society at large and not just some ostensibly sinless Rasta clubhouse.
The Dealer:
What the motherfuck: My blunt wrappings are gone.
Ghandi:
Blame that Raccoon over there.
Marley:
Hey man: I resent the shit out of that: that’s fucking plantation talk. Strait up Civil War Era.
Ghandi:
No, I mean, there really is a raccoon: a god damned furry little animal who snuck up because he needed to smoke some shit he found at the city dump.
Marley:
Well what the fuck, man? Why isn’t it dead yet? You got your gat right next to your glass right there in front of your eyes: that thing was designed by the Gnostics in Ethiopia to blow Raccoons to smithereens.
The Dealer:
I think he beat us to that: the weed he pilfered from the dump was laced with every drug known to man for some kid’s science fair project: the motherfucker took one hit and his primitive little brain leaked out of his ass and his eyeballs at the same time.
Ghandi:
That’s too bad: I was hoping I could indoctrinate some fine young raccoons and use them to justify stealing.
Breaking News
Researchers have now determined that the most popular computer game amongst Palestinian schoolchildren and other radical right wing monotheists the world over is now Counter Kike.
“One mod even has a Merkabah battle tank…and if you shoot someone who knows how to read at anything over a third grade level, you get double points: BUt only if he’s holding a scroll rather than a copy of the Quran and Mein Kampf.
Israel/Palestine Situation, one day at a time:
1. Terrorists win.
2. Counter terrorists win.
3. Terrorists Lose.
4. Everyone loses.
5. etc.
I shed my indignation one day at a time, nation being the key word: and man are they dug in, with a simply human predilection for digging their own shallow graves. And as a follower of the laws of both Hermes and Mosheh, one four letter word was not intended to hurt anyone: unlike the Tetragrammaton Jehovah, but that’s a different story.
Games of the Gods: In for may shun Age Addition
“Kokopelli: get off that motherfucking sniper rifle rocket launcher: every damned LAN party we have I always have to remind you, man, it’s not cool,” Aphrodite yelled across the hallway.
“I’m being perfectly cool: it’s the design of your favorite games that’s not cool: Olympian Murder Master 5 was slapped together on some fatass’s lunchbreak while he was jacking off with his other two Dr. Octopus arms.”
“Fine then,” Venus compromised, “Let’s play Jews and Errobs: like cops and robbers, except it doesn’t get kids any exercise at all because it’s on a screen.”
“You mean Counter Strike?”
“No, I mean the one where they put sociopolitical and religious propaganda into Half Life.”
Malcolm And Jay’s Theatre of the Absurd
“What would you do if you opened a box of children’s breakfast cereal and it said, ‘Congratulations: you have won an all expenses paid cocaine and hookers trip to Las Vegas Nevada, aka Mount Sin Eye?”
“I would go to the company and be like, ‘could you just give me the money, cause I’m not a fan of cocaine and disease carrying skanks who think they’re entitled to the world.”
