Mike's Madness #24

	Dude, when there's a flood comin', you should bail.
 
	No one needs to be told this. You know that when the water's
over the Buick, it's time to jam. I know the parakeet and the Barry
Manilow collection are back in the Airstream, but its far better to be
without a vinyl archive of badly drond crap and a shit machine with
feathers than buried under a stone that reads:
 
	Here lies
 
	[YOUR NAME HERE]
 
	BORN: Whenever
 
	DIED: After ignoring the 15th or 20th
	      warning and this huge ol' fuckin' flood
	      came barreling outta the mountains at
	      mach 8 and swept him/her and that ugly
	      goddamned green Gremlin he/she usedta
	      drive clean out to the Pacific where five
	      dolphins stole the car and drove it to
	      Jamaica where they traded it for 3 pounds
	      of bud and some naked pictures of Flipper.
 
	"This dude bailed much too late."


	I watched this flood on CNN the other day. CNN: The 24 hour a
day misery channel. I shit you not - if there's some abject human
misery goin' on in the world, CNN is there. You see this shit all the
time! Like in Croatia, they got this poor goddamn woman sobbing her
lungs out because her husband and father of like 200 children stepped
on a goddamn landmine and his testicals bounced off the MIR space
station and there's fuckin' Peter Arnett askin' her how she feels
about the current conflict. How do you think she feels? She's gonna
have to whore for a living now, or worse - run for the presidency
under the name Patrick Buchanan.
 
	Actually, whenever I see that fat Irish bastard on TV, a day
pass for Hinkley doesn't seem like such a bad idea. I'd kinda like to
write a letter that says:

	"Dear Johnny, 
 
	Waste that Mick fuck and I'll blow your nuts off.
 
					     Signed - 
					     Jodie" 
 
(can I get sued for that?).
 
	What bad acid dream did that scumbag crawl outta, anyway
(Buchanan, not Hinkley, tho' you should read the Nixon/Mussolini
sidenote down about 25 lines)?
 
	But I digress.
 
	So anyway, there was this flood down in Ventura County and
like people's trailers were all washin' out to the Pacific. DUDE! What
is it with mobile/trailer homes and natural disasters?! We already
know that Mobile Home == Tornado Magnet. Like "superconducting,
supercooled, electro-tornado" magnet. Tornados have been known to
travel miles out of their way to wreck mobile homes. Back in 1965, a
tornado got on a DC-10 in Newark, flew to Des Moines, got off the
plane, wrecked the fuck outta every mobile home within 12 light years,
got back on the plane, went back to New Jersey, got on another plane
and went to Atlantic City where it hit a $125,000 jackpot at the Trump
Castle and got a complimentary handjob from Marla Maples. It wasn't
the worst tornado in US history, but it had a very bad attitude and
had to stay after school several times in its youth.
 
	Maybe mobile trailer homes are like POT to tornados! You know,
when tornados are young and everything, they go to school and just
knock over stuff like billboards and the occasional outhouse, but
every now and then one knocks over a mobile home and it's a case of
'good tornado gone bad.' First it's just a mobile home or two, then
its wreckin' whole cities.

JUST SAY NO TO MOBILE HOMES! (heh heh heh)
 
	Just where in the fuck does that fat swine Buchanan think he
can get off running for president after the shit he pulled under
Nixon?! Is our collective memory so bad that we have forgotten and
forgiven Tricky Dick and the armies of swine he fathered? We're all
"Oh, he was a victim." BULL-SHIT! He is guiltier than fuck, uglier
than a plane wreck and meaner than a shit eattin' dog with rabies.
People better than him have ended their days dangling from a lightpost
or catching bullets (or in the case of Benito Mussolini, both). I say
we string the bastard (Nixon, not Mussolini, tho' serious genetic
testing would be needed to truly know the difference) up and let A-10
pilots use his corrupt, pus-filled body as target practice. I don't
really hate Richard Nixon, but God knows there ain't much to like
about the man.
 

Oh yeah, original thesis - "If there's a flood comin', you should bail."
 
Y'know, people always do stupid shit during disasters. Example:

TV announcer: "Dude! There's a huge ol' tornado coming! People living
	       in mobile homes are advised to get a life and move to
	       another state."
 
Dumbfuck:     "Eeewweeee! Looks like we're in for a heap-a weather!
	       Yessiree bob! Gonna blow harder than Jim Bakker after
	       lights out!"
 
TV Announcer: "Dudes, BAIL!"
 
Dumbfuck:     "I think I'll just sit here and open a cold one and watch
	       WWF wrestling . . ."
 
Tornado:      "NO! - Fuck YOU!"
 
TV Announcer: "Local dumbfuck Fred Tittwirller went off to
(1 day later)  whatever white trash heaven his sort go to after a
	       tornado blew his mobile home halfway to Nevada.
	       He'll be missed - like a case of clap."
 
	So dude, if there's like a tornado, or hurricane, or flood, or
even your flatulent cousin Erine is coming, and even if you don't live
in a mobile home - BAIL! Grab your stash and make a dash, then stand
by while getting high! Remember - it's better to be a head than a
headline.
 
Peace be with you.
 
 
And now . . .
 
Some funny stuff
 
(funny in the same sorta way that jokes about bestiality are funny.
And if you think such jokes are indeed humorous, you oughta love this).
 
 
NEXT TIME!
 
ON AN 
 
	* * ALL NEW * *
      (previously viewed)

      * * ALL EXCITING * *
           (somewhat)
 
	Star Trek -
	       The Next Generation:

Young Ensign Crusher is caught touchin' 'imself and gets a
lecture from the Pope. 

YES - the POPE!
 
The bastion of decency and the Catholic Way!
 
A man who gets things done!
 
A man who inspires pride in the hearts of all men!
 
A man who fondles sheep!
 
A man who --
 
(Wait a second, did we say "fondles sheep?". . . Uh, we meant "feels
real deep," like in "The Pope feels real deep about that thing goin'
on in Yugoslavia." That's what we meant. Um, can we start this again?
No?  Errmmm . . . Uh.. PLAN B! PLAN B!)
 

# 62: Plan B
# 62: Plan B
 
And now A bit about Sherlock Holmes.
 
Biographical note: Sherlock Holmes, the greatest detective ever, was
the star of several books written in the Victorian era, when Britain
ruled the world and off-coloured toadies in far away lands minded
their own bloody business and didn't mewl on about freedom and
independence and all that tripe.

Among them:
 
o Mahatma Ghandi
 
(NO! The books, not the toadies!)
 
Among them:
 
o Sherlock Holmes Almost Steps in Shit
 
o Sherlock Homes and the Drippy Case of Clap
 
o Drop Your Pants, Watson
 
o Sherlock Holmes Beats the Living Snot Outta Some Poor Sot
  for Sayin "No Shit Sherlock" in the Pull My Cock Pub.
 
o Sherlock Holmes and the Naughty Reform School Girls
 
	(The Critics Rave!
 
	"Well Worth the Read!"
	       - W. Kennedy Smith, Jr.
 
	I liked it!"
	       - Right (and we do mean RIGHT) Honorable
		 (and reportedly very well hung) Clarence Thomas
 
	"Not Enough Pictures"
	       - R. Lowe, Actor (kinda)

	"Anyting da bitch said idda lie! I nebber touched da bitch!"
	       - M. Tyson, Up to His Ass in the Shit
 
	"I'll give anyone 5 quid who'll kick Yeltsin square in the
	crotch"
	       - Anon. Soviet Leader who is soon to be out of a
	       job and will probably end up advertising Coca-Cola
	       or some such other financial whorery.
 
	"What's a clitoris?"
	       - D.Q., V.P.
	       (and we DON'T mean Dairy Queen despite the fact
	       he's about as smart as a Frosty)
 	)

o Sherlock Holmes and the Rank Ol' Beefer
	(HINT: Watson ate beans and rock snails the night before.
	No longer available in Scratch-'n'-Sniff version)
 
o Sherlock Holmes Find His Ass in His Pants w/ Both Hands and a
  Flashlight
 
o Sherlock Holmes Listens to Roger Waters Drone on About 'is Bloody Father
  For Like 6 CD's.
 
	(Oh yeah, dudes - you know Waters does it, too! Like 9 CD's
	this fucker goes on. "Final Cut" - killer album, great
	songs, wholly under-rated. Would be better called "My Father
	Got Killed in a Bloody War and Now I Gotta Big ol' Chip on
	My Shoulder". You wanna know how to piss Rog off? Go up to
	him and say "Dude - didn't you usedta be in Pink Floyd?". Oh
	yeah, dude! Totally sets 'im off and they gotta use like
	9000 cc of Thorazine to quiet the bastard back down again.
	And whoever said "Nothing sucks like a Hoover" (I said it,
	incidentally) never saw "The Wall at Berlin". Dudes, "sucks"
	is an understatement. Fuckin' Cindy Lauper?! The whole show
	should have been called "Roger Waters and his Massive Ego
	Spend Untold Millions To Shoot Himself in the Foot in front
	of Millions of People and No Small Number of Germans". Wanna
	know another way to set Roger Waters off? Remind him that
	record stores still sell "Momentary Lapse of Reason".  Or
	that Doctor Dimento is playin' cuts off of Berlin Wall on
	his show. Matter fact, there's no small number of ways to
	set Roger Waters off. David Gilmour will sell you a list of
	at least 20,000 and Waters' home address for like 9p.
	Dudes -- killer deal. Jump on it.)
 
o Sherlock Holmes Earns 5 Quid From Some Russian
 
o Sherlock Holmes Finds Watson's Ass in His Pants w/o the Flashlight
 
o Sherlock Holmes and the Free Rectal Examin . . .
 
	RIGHT!
 
	STOP THAT!
 
	STOP THAT THIS MINUTE!
 
	We will NOT have slanderous tripe flung about that Sherlock
Holmes is in anyway a poofter! Sherlock Holmes is a man to whom
England owes much, even though he is as fictitious as a Democratic
victory in '92. Regardless, Mr. Holmes is a masculine sort of pederast
. . . MAN! who, uh, can we start this again?
 
 
SHERLOCK HOLMES
(NOT a poofter!)
 
	&
 
BRUCIE
(Ahem, well . . .)
 
	in
 
"HELLO SAN FRANCISCO - You Luscious Bitch!"
(Filmed in ButtslammOvision (tm))
 
 
	RIGHT!
 
	THAT'S IT!
 
	DO SOMETHING ELSE OR WE'RE HAULIN' YOU IN!
 
 
And now we present without further ado . . .
 
* Should I have an enema or eat spaghetti?
* Should I drive my new Firebird offa Coastal 1?
* Should I blow $700 on 1-900 numbers?
 
-Troubled by the uncertainty of life?
-Wish you knew more about the future so you could stop making a total
 schmuck of yourself?
-Willing to throw massive amounts of cash down the sewer?
 
THEN CALL MADAME CLOACA!
 
* * * *  Astrologer to the Stars! * * * *
 
(i.e. Vega, Deneb, Castor, Pollux, etc. 
 NGC and Messier objects need not apply)
 
Madame Cloaca has something for you, and it's a big, fat SCAM!
Eeew-eee! It's a ripe 'un, too! You can smell this fucker clear over
stateline!  Yup, they don't hardly come bigger than that. Well, that
is if you don't include the Reagan administration. Actually, I wish we
hadn't. Oh yeah - Madame Cloaca, who almost predicted the tragic
explosion of the shuttle Challenger, who was almost right about that
last Superbowl and who could have foretold the comin' of Gorby if the
neighbor's HAM set hadn't screwed up her powers (despite what that
nasty judge said at the suit)!  Madame Cloaca will make up some tripe
and record it on a tape and charge you a mere $275 a millisecond to
hear such startling revelations as:
 
o God is comin' back and he's gonna open for Floyd!
 
o Nancy Reagan will turn into a giant vagina and swallow up Orange
County. (Richly deserved, I say!)
 
o Apple computers will come up with a computer that costs $23,000 and
runs at .5 mhz.
 
o The Pope will hawk up a huge blood looge during Easter Mass in the
shape of the Virgin Mary. Dan Quayle eats it on a dare.
 
	(eeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwww! Dude, have you ever had
	like a REALLY bad cold and you got this ball of gunk
	stuck between your nose and the back of your throat and
	like your trying to suck this bastard out and you keep
	pullin' on it all day and finally after you drink like hot
	soup and give a final back-of-the-mouth suction pull, it
	finally rips loose and fills your mouth with a wad of raw,
	bacteria-laden, yellow phlegm the size of a tennis ball?
	You know, the really sticky kind you can spit down the
	side of a twelve story building and not break the strand?
	The kind that's usually like this diseased, yellow color with
	a huge, red, blood streak in it? Know the type? Well, I
	hocked one at a horseback cop from the top of a four
	story parking garage during some downtown rally I was
	at, and I nailed the cop so hard it knocked his hat off! It
	was a C&C (cold AND crank) lootch, too! I'm pretty
	damn proud of that and I'm willing to tell this story to
	friends and family members for a nominal speaking fee. I
	even more willing NOT to tell this story to friends and
	family for a slightly higher fee. Matter of fact, gimme a
	$20 and I'll never tell anyone you read this crap. Write for
	more details).
 
o There will very soon be a re-edit of the ever-popular Rudolf the
Rednosed Reindeer . . .
 
 
Here's a little treat I was gonna release during Christmas, but
vehimate objections from several decency groups prevented me.
Well, Christmas is over, they've forgotten and I haven't. Will you
please clear your throats and hold your noses and join me in a
stirring round of -
 
Rudolf the Red-Reared Reindeer
------------------------------
 
Rudolf the Red-Reared Reindeer
Always had the reindeer runs.
Gallons of foul ejecta
Sprayed from right between his buns
All of the other reindeer
Usedta cry and shout and scream
When they found shitty ol' Rudolf,
was gonna lead their reindeer teams.
 
Then one stormy Christmas eve
Santa came to say:
"If one more shitstorm comes to pass
I'll jam this cork up Rudolf's ass!"
 
All of the other reindeer
shouted out with joyful glee,
   (I know it's an oxymoron, so shoot me.)
and Rudolf the Red-Reared Reindeer
Exploded over Lockerbie!
   (Like a certain 7-4-7 . . .)
 
I'm gonna burn in Hell for that one, I just know it . . .

-----
Welp, solly it's only taken me like 3 years to write another one of these
things. Thanx to everybody who took upon themselves the absolutely
thankless task of writing and prodding me into cranking more of this
vicious tripe out. Special thanx to my tovarich in Florida (where men are
men and manatees are oft sore) who keeps an archive of this crap.  Very
special thanx to my good friend and comrade Mr. Steven "I'm goin' back to
China, to China, to China" Bancroft (unix address below). He's the one who
fields the mail, edits the Madness and gets it out on the net. He does a
killer job and I owe him, and the rest of you dudes, much.
 
Someone get me a fuckin' insulin shot before I keel.
 
I lost 3 unpublished Madnesses to a vicious little fuck of a program called
"Speed Store" included with DR DOS 6.0. Both these programs should be
avoided like a drunken, L.A. cop and if I ever meet the fucker who wrote
that Speedstore piece of garbage, he's gonna answer to my 108 megs of lost
data with his ass. I think I'm not gonna be pickin' on Apple anymore. Heh
heh heh.
 
S' be cool, bros. Catchya later!
 
Noxious garbage parading around as reading material written by:
 
Mike "Under an ounce is decriminalized? Sorry ossifer, I thought it was
under a POUND!" Beebe
-----
(C) 1992 Yucks For You, Inc.

Comments & Flames to Author: Mike Beebe (currently has no mail address, send
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Mailing List Requests: smbancroft@ucdavis.edu (Steven Bancroft)

All Back-issues are available by E-mail request from <smbancroft@ucdavis.edu>
or by anonymous ftp from <bikini.cis.ufl.edu> [128.227.224.1] in directory
/pub/mikesmad. "Thanks Eric!"
