Dr. Faustroll Writes the Wrongs

A couple of days ago, I decided to let my genetic predisposition to emulate Bobby McFerrin shine through and celebrate the possibility that my insignificant penis may never become the premier destination for Googlers and Yahoos looking for a little — and I mean insignificantly little from the bottom of my shallow heart — piece of the local InterWebinational hot action, but I ended up doing some smack and washing down two four ways hit of windowpane with a fifth of grain, so that vibe was totally lost, but hell, I still don’t regret a thing.

Tomorrow I will probably lobby for an estate tax on wealthy assholes who undoubtably pass on their despicable and totally undeserved feeling of happiness to their offspring without paying their fare share to the cosmic utensil, but for today, I have nothing to say about whitey except walk right in, sit right down, and whitey let your ass hang out. You know what I like most about white people, niggers, spics, douchebags, and voters? If so, e-mail me or comment on this blog, so I can mock you.

Last night I had one of those cheesy Frank Zappa dreams I have several times a year with two of them nearly always on Mother’s Day and Halloween, dates on which I actually saw The Mothers or one of Zappa’s dozens of other bands perform. This dream was truly hilarious to me at least for including an alleged commemorative reenactment of the 200 Motel Tour, complete with a former acquaintance who spent time as the main squeeze of Motorhead Sherwood, aka Euclid James, way back in 1967.

Back in those days, the worst ordinary citizens of the NOMF™ had to concern themselves with was the local constabulatory killing kids to keep the parks rid of political dissenters. Today, the consequences are even less earth-shattering. Bring me a suspected terrorist, please! Let me do what I want to make you feel safe.

So I intend to refrain from listing the names and locations of the more than two dozen second amendment heroes and martyrs reported during the past 24 hours by local nimrods who think that their deaths are somehow important enough to report to the entire InterWeb, even if some of them are white, because you know it serves someone right, because there is just so much other entertaining good news that seems to be ignored by the mainstream liberal media.

So this is intergalactic DON’T WORRY. I’M HAPPY day, and if you don’t like it, well, go to Orange Julius stand and fuck yourself. The world is getting increasingly more hilarious and I like a hilarious world.

Take the recent issue of Science magazine that reports that when the western Antarctic ice shelf falls into the sea next summer or the following year that the seas will rise only half as much as originally projected and ignored during the Bush administration. Instead of 6 and a half meters, the sea with rise approximately 11 feet. This means that many poor people will be able to cope with high tides by standing on inexpensive step ladders for a couple of hours twice a day. Problem solved.

Michael Phelps is back from his suspension to prove that smoking marijuana is not only safe and effective in promoting emotional well-being and superior athletic performance. It may also explain why Phelps has been able to maintain his twelve thousand calorie a day regimen for several years without anyone in the liberal media questioning what makes the man so fucking hungry. Smoke dope a couple of hours a day and dealing with the munchies for another 6 to 8, and you too can be an Olympic class swimmer.

Nancy Pelosi has finally admitted that the CIA is a den of lying sacks of shit. Who would have thought that Little Big Mama had it in her to tell the truth?

The zombie flu now appears to be no more dangerous to world health than the AIDS pandemic, except that it doesn’t just target godless homosexuals who engage in anal sex. Otherwise, they could be exactly the same disease.

Now that the first hundred days of the Obamination are history, we can finally get back to the rule of law that has served us so well during the past couple of decades. I am truly pumped by the announcement that the military tribunals will soon be dealing with the evil ones so that we can get back to shopping like we did right after 9/11.

The U.S. Court of Appeals in Washington has ruled that the seven goddamn unthankful Native Americans who sued the Washington Redskins NFL team had not filed their trademark challenge in a timely manner. The ruling essentially says that Native Americans should shut the fuck up and quit complaining that many Redskin players are actually black. So now maybe they’ll go back to the res and get on with detox.

Which brings back around to the dream I had last night about my old smack buddy Ricky Lancelotti Ricky who returned from the grave to reprise his spot on rendition of Zomby Woof on One Size Fits All. Here’s what he sang last night in the imaginary ether:

Three hundred years ago
I thought I might get some sleep
I stretched myself out onna antique bed
An’ my spirit did a midnite creep

You know I’ll never sleep no more
It seem to me dat it just ain’t wise
Didja ever wake up in the mornin’
With the zombie flu inflame your eyes
Just about as Cheney as you could be

I am de zombie flu
I’m that virus all da pussies been
Worryin’ about
I am de zombie flu
You all seek for shelter when I come fuckin’ on out
Tellin’ you all de zombie troof
Here ahm is, de zombie flu

Spewing’ you all de zombie goo
Here ahm is the zombie flu.

Reety-awrighty, he de zombie flu
Reety-awrighty, he de zombie flu

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