Adopt a Joke 8/28/07

Please adopt one of these terrible jokes, fresh from the oven:

My favorite comedian was Charlie Chapman. He always said what I was thinking.

My friend said that there should be a special place in hell for conceited people. But I was like, nah, man, that's what they want.

It is so frustrating when a girl you adore doesn't notice you. It's like, "C'mon, look out your window already."

In high school I was with a girl, and we had sex at her place. And she said, "If my Dad finds out we had sex while he was gone, he's going to be pissed." And I felt bad because I didn't know I was being rude for not inviting him along.

There's a super hero on the Catholic TV network named Bibleman. I think he got his powers after being molested by a radioactive priest.

Bibleman's a superhero. I was watching to try to figure out his powers, but the only one I see is the ability to leap logic in a single bound.

He does have great fights, though. You should see the epic battles between Bibleman and Different Interpretation of Bibleman. Was Mary a Virgin? Was Mary not a Virgin? Watch out, Bible City!

A good movie trailer is supposed to make you think, "I need to find out how those hot chicks made that car explode."

When I was growing up we had a swear jar. To punish us, whenever someone swore they had to put a quarter into the jar. And at the end of the week, we would take all the money from the jar and spend it on therapy.

My local bar has a live karaoke band. I bet they make themselves feel better about it by just pretending to be really picky about auditioning their front man.

Having a cover band is like calling yourself an author because you have a library card and xerox machine.

I want to start a college called the "City University of New Township," if only to hear what the cheerleading squad comes up with.

I always wonder if there's a successful drummer somewhere who's just waiting for his accounting firm to take off.

Porn websites often have free trailers. But I always feel like they spoil the ending.

I take the Scooby-Doo view of religion: no matter how spooky things get, it's usually just some asshole that's mad kids are having fun.

I love comedy, so it hurts me when people ask, "Mike, what if you don't make it?" It tells me they really didn't like my show.



I'm sorry.

You're the Best , Around, No One's Ever Gonna Keep You Down

I overheard two people talking, and one guy said he had been out-nerded by a comic book fan who knew more than him. And his friend was like, “What’s the point? When you out-nerd someone, you just prove you’re the best dork.”

Which is true, but that is the point. People compete. As humans, we always feel the need to prove we’re at least the best at something, no matter how small. You try to prove that you’re the best at knowing comic books. But then when someone knows more about Wonder Woman than you do, you become the guy who’s best at not being that loser.

Right guys? Hey, look at me! Yeah, he knows more about Spider-Man than I do, but I am so the best at getting laid whenever I want. Yeah! Suck it, Grey Hulk! I don’t need to be the best at comic books when I’m the best at some motherfucking flag football!

It’s the same anywhere. You try to be the best sports fan of your team, but then when your team fails, you were the person who was best at knowing Eli Manning was the Picasso of choke.

You start off by trying to the best accountant at your job. But then when someone beats you and gets the promotion, you claim you’re the best at not caring, man, you knew way back this job was going to suck. That's why you're the robber-baron of cubicle 1623 - you know some shit those androids in 1622 ain't gonna figure out for a long time.

That’s what we do. And it’s weird, because we call everyone but ourselves on it.

Psssh, look at Noam Chomsky. What an asshole. He thinks he’s the best at understanding the problems with a media-controlled capitalist society. Whatever, nerd. Maybe you should be the best at being less of a dick!

And then, you don’t realize it when you say, “Hahaha, what? You think General Electric is a good investment? Hahahaha – maybe if I had to dump my Google stocks in the Bizarro world! Hahahaha – I am the best at investment banking.”

Or, you meet a new girl, right? And you hook up and you have got to be the best she’s ever had. Because no one wants a sexual silver medal. No one wants to be the Apollo Creed: all glitz and glamour, no power. You want to be the eye of the tiger! The thrill of the fight! You put your penis in and the crowd cheers, “Maximus! Maximus! Maximus!”

You want to look down at her and scream, “Am I not merciful?”

But then, but then, when she breaks up with you for another guy, you start claiming you were the best at knowing she was going to be crazy. Ah, man, I may not have been the biggest man she’s ever had, but I was the fucking champion of knowing she was a few rings short of a circus.

And, man, yeah, sure. I may not have the biggest dick. But I am the best at having a weird shape.

Even as a kid. You had to compete. When your parents were the best people at raising you and caring for you and working their asses off to put you in college, you had the best at not being a fascist, Dad!

And, man, how your sixth grade poetry book proved you were the best at feeling shit that no one else felt. And when Biggie died, man, sure, some people claimed to be upset. Whatever; I fucking felt it. When Dan Marino retired, it was like I was retiring my heart. Did anyone else feel that? Yeah, they might claim it. But I know the truth. I'm hurt, dawg! I put my heart into this shit!

But the saddest thing is that no one’s ever the best. Even when you die. Your body will be stuck in the ground and you’ll rot at the same basic speed as everyone else.

Except for my Grandma. She was the fastest.

McSweeney's Piece

A new piece I wrote is up on McSweeney's. It's called The CEO of the Olive Garden Makes His Last Stand on the "Free Breadsticks" Issue.

Sex Advice for Spam Emails

Every day I receive dozens of unsolicited emails with the tips and questions about sex. I answer them because I have also had sex with a woman once.

carlota emily [Capitalization of names is for the bourgeois] writes:

Good night drucker.michael
His penis wasn’t big enough to reach the most sensitive parts of my vagina
carlota emily

Thanks for writing, emily!

Well, that certainly is a problem. What you have to consider is how important sex is to your relationship. But since you only mentioned his penis lacking the necessary length, I imagine it's quite important, indeed. If he's still a great guy to you, perhaps you two could try some tasteful adult toys? Or maybe you could discuss this issue. Maybe it's not really his penis that isn't big enough to reach your G-spot. Maybe his lack of commitment is manifesting itself as a detriment to your relationship. After all, girl, if he ain't good out of bed, he ain't good in it.

lucious Margraves writes,

Yo yo yo drucker.michael
Any bigger and i would be in a circus
lucious Margraves

Lucious,

If only we all had this problem! Am I right, fellows? Hah-hah! I need to try stand-up some day! Seriously, though, there are surgical operations available for this type of problem. Furthermore - have you actually considered the circus? You could make a lucrative living traveling to alt-underground festivals in which you display what nature gave you. Perhaps you could meet a woman who works at the circus showing the world's biggest vagina? That sounds like a romance for the ages.

Pamila Villar writes,

Regards drucker.michael
Your new, big penis is only 5-6mths away
Pamila Villar

Pamila,

Is it now? Well, then, I certainly look forward to the Spring. Thank you for writing, and I'll definitely be sure to be on the look out for any changes.

And finally, a follow-up email from a long-time spammer to whom I gave some advice.

Good day drucker.michael
im not shy in public toilets anymore.
ChieYu Sanghishetty

ChieYu,

Congratulations! I knew you could do it.

Adopt a Joke - 9-13-07

Here are new jokes this week that just don't have wings. Would you adopt one of my bad jokes?

I took my blind friend to a silent film festival. He can’t see the movies, but boy does he love Ragtime music.

I heard a woman say you should never have sex with someone against their will. I would go one step further and say regardless of their will, you should never have sex with a dead person.

My friend has a fetish for period porn. They're all set in the 1700s. And all the women bleed from their vaginas.

Who’s going to break it to the fundamentalist Christians that Jesus was born out of wedlock?

I’ve got my own place now. The best part of living alone is I can walk around the apartment naked. The worst part is there’s no one there to be jealous.

Even though I’m an atheist, Christmas is my favorite holiday. When you don’t believe in Jesus, finally Santa Claus can take center stage.

My friends are super anti-Christmas, though. Like, "Santa Claus is a capitalist invention. Only rich kids get visited by Santa Claus." Well, if the poor kids didn’t have to steal food, maybe they could score a spot on the "nice list."

God in the Old Testament and God in the New Testament are very different. The God of the Old Testament is all anger, fire and brimstone, "I am a jealous God!" he says. The God of the New Testament is happy, loves everyone, and just wants you to forgive your neighbor. Goes to show you what getting laid can do for you.

During sex, my girlfriend and I don’t have safe words. Although I’ve found the word "Mom" often does the job.

D.A.R.E. taught me to say "no" to drugs. But those inanimate objects, boy, they do not listen.

I wish we were still polytheistic, having more than one God. That way when someone tried to ban gay marriage because "God doesn’t want it," you could go, "Well, fuck ‘em, I’m voting Poseidon."

My friend is a bird watcher. He uses special sounds to attract birds so he can look at them and comment on how beautiful they are. Surprisingly, his technique does not transcend to women.

I'm sorry.

I Didn't Make It

67. That's the number of jokes I was able to churn out this weekend. 67 out of 100. Or, as teachers call that, a D+. I'd like to apologize to everyone involved who was excited on seeing 13 variations of "So, this Bush guy..."

The quest will continue friends.

72 Hours, 100 Jokes

Because last night I felt as if I didn't have anything new to bring to the table, I'm going to try to write 100 Jokes by the time I go to sleep on Sunday.

And that's jokes. Not premises. Not observations. Motherfucking, balls-to-the-wall jokes.

They're not all going to be good. Not by a long shot.

But if I can pull this off, I promise myself that there's Guitar Hero III purchase in the future.

I'll be blogging these jokes. I'm sorry for this.

This is How it is in the Movies Too

Last night's set was abysmal. And when I say "abysmal," I mean it was like that whole thing of looking into the abyss and the abyss looking back. Yes, yes, we're all monsters, Mr. Nietzsche, thank you. I felt like shit, and I've been feeling like shit all week, so I think it finally came out on stage as just plain "blah."

In other words, I can kill while I've got food poisoning, but a stressful week, ooh-darling, that leads to comedy lead which shan't be turned into gold, no way, no how.

Alex and Ed and John and Eric I helped talk me down from going to a video store and spending endless amounts of money on DVDs I don't need. I was lucky, however, to find a used copy of "Amplitude," which is the game Red Octane made before they made "Guitar Hero." Imagine "Tempest" meets "Guitar Hero" and you've got a fun game that made absolutely no money.

Anyway. Anyway. Anyway.

I was still feeling a bit down after the show. I mean, people bomb. But I still felt bad for the way I went about it.

And I'm on the subway, listening to my Anonymous 4, and take it all the way to Queens to Ditmars. Now, Anonymous 4 is the music I listen to when I'm super depressed. Sort of the music that's supposed to calm me down while still letting me pity myself like a seventh-grader.

I'm all woe-is-me, woe-is-me, when who should walk out from the train adjacent to mine?

Maddog Mattern.

That's all I need to say.

New Ipod

They announced the new iPod. And oh my God. It’s got a touch screen and wifi and you can buy songs directly to the iPod! You can search the net using Wifi. Jesus. I get so excited. It’s fucking Christmas morning and I’m excited and I want one for myself. And I feel bad. I feel bad, man, if I don’t get one. The only analogy I can think of is, imagine that every year or every 18 months, they announced a new type of penis. And it’s like, “Okay, no. I’ve got a penis. It’s fine. It works fine. I don’t need a new penis. Whatever. My penis can hold 40,000 songs.” “But the new penis is touch-sensitive!” “I don’t care!” And you tell yourself you don’t care. Your penis is good enough for you. And you even believe it a little, but then you go on the subway or go jogging, and you see the guys with their shiny new 2007 penises, and you try to hide yours a little. And then, ugh, they see it. They see that you have the 2006 penis and they just look at you like, “It’s okay, buddy. I’m sure that model works fine for your needs…” But it doesn’t! Not anymore! Now that you’ve seen what the new penis can do, you just need one. It’s easier to handle. It can last longer. It has a bigger screen! So you go out and you buy it. And you hold your new penis in your hands and you feel like, “Finally. I’m done. I’m good. I’ve got the best penis imaginable.” And you’re happy. For a while. But then terror seeps in. Because you realize that someday. Maybe soon. Maybe later. But someday, there will be a better penis. And the penis you got now? It won’t be dick.