Rip Torn Rallies An Imaginary Posse

Rip Torn, appearing here as he does in his own mind, prepares to rob a closed bank in Salisbury, Connecticut.

Alright listen up you peckerheads. I know you’re all just Ditran-induced hallucinations and I don’t know who’s talking, me or the Glenlivet, but fuck it all to hell. I am the Glenlivet. So you yella pricks listen to me and you listen hard. That cocksucking bank’s had it good for too long. And we’re taking the fucker down.

Now I know what’s going on in your thick fucking skulls right now: “how the fuck’re we supposed to rob a bank.” Listen here. We get the fucker when it’s closed. Nobody will fucking be there. Empty. It’s a victimless fucking crime. That’s the genius of it right there, shitspecks. Got it?

First things fucking first. Everybody grab an antique revolver out of this old humidor. Don’t be shy. Plenty to go around. Now everyone take a handful of bullets. Now loads the fuckers. I SAID FUCKING LOAD THE FUCKERS! Don’t dare cock your eyes at me, sonny. When I was your age I used to put men twice my size in sleeper holds, get them on the fucking ground, and steal every goddamn cent out of their wallets just to afford a fucking cot at the fucking Glendale YMCA.

Questions? Yeah you, the slope I murdered in Korea.

…

What do you think, zipperhead? Like I don’t know pain? I’ve been through two fucking divorces. Messy ones. Real muck. Not like that fucking little girl pigtail princess birthday party you put our boys through halfway ‘round the fucking globe. I’ve been there, jack. I’ve been face to fucking face with the goddamn abyss. I’ve known God, Charlie, and he’s a fucking faggot. So fuck you, I don’t know pain! You ever howl? You ever just howl, jack? Like running around in circles barking at the fucking moon like a mad dog? Awooooooooooooooooooooo!

Who else? Yeah, the snot-nose Kid looks like my prick bastard son.

…

Crazy? The fuck you know from crazy, pipsqueak? I beat Norman Mailer fucking head’s in with a ball-pein hammer. And shit I’d do it again if that pantywaist fucking clown didn’t work up the balls to die. It was on the set of Maidstone. You remember Maidstone, dipshit? Of course you don’t. Hell, 1970 you were little more than a glint in yer dear old daddy’s fucking ballsack. And if it weren’t for an expired sheepskin I’d had in my fucking wallet since the Eisenhower administration you’d still fucking be there! You even remember Ike Eisenhower, mashed potato head? Course you don’t. Hand me that fucking bottle.

Anyone else? Anyone else got the fucking balls to stand up to me? Any other cocksucker here brave enough to pull a knife on Dennis Hopper? Sure. You. The ghost of my second wife.

….

AHHHHHH-WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

We ride at midnight. The fuck time is it anyways?

Rip Torn Rallies and Imaginary Posse

Alright listen up you peckerheads. I know you’re all just Ditran-induced hallucinations and I don’t know who’s talking, me or the Glenlivet, but fuck it all to hell. I am the Glenlivet. So you yella pricks listen to me and you listen hard. That cocksucking bank’s had it good for too long. And we’re taking the fucker down.

Now I know what’s going on in your thick fucking skulls right now: “how the fuck’re we supposed to rob a bank.” Listen here. We get the fucker when it’s closed. Nobody will fucking be there. Empty. It’s a victimless fucking crime. That’s the genius of it right there, shitspecks. Got it?

First things fucking first. Everybody grab a loaded handgun out of this old humidor. Don’t be shy. Plenty to go around. Now everyone take a handful of bullets. Now loads the fuckers. I SAID FUCKING LOAD THE FUCKERS! Don’t dare cock your eyes at me, sonny. When I was your age I used to put men twice my size in sleeper holds, get them on the fucking ground, and steal every goddamn cent out of their wallets just to afford a fucking cot at the fucking Glendale YMCA.

Questions? Yeah you, the slope I murdered in Korea.

…

What do you think, zipperhead? Like I don’t know pain? I’ve been through two fucking divorces. Messy ones. Real muck. Not like that fucking little girl pigtail princess birthday party you put our boys through halfway ‘round the fucking globe. I’ve been there, jack. I’ve been face to fucking face with the goddamn abyss. I’ve known God, Charlie, and he’s a fucking faggot. So fuck you, I don’t know pain! You ever howl? You ever just howl, jack? Like running around in circles barking at the fucking moon like a mad dog? Awooooooooooooooooooooo!

Who else? Yeah, the snot-nose Kid looks like my prick bastard son.

…

Crazy? The fuck you know from crazy, pipsqueak? I beat Norman Mailer fucking head with a ball-pein hammer. And shit I’d do it again if that pantywaist fucking clown didn’t work up the balls to die. It was on the set of Maidstone. You remember Maidstone, dipshit? Of course you don’t. Hell, 1970 you were little more than a glint in yer dear old daddy’s fucking ballsack. And if it weren’t for an expired sheepskin I’d had in my fucking wallet since the Eisenhower administration you’d still fucking be there! You even remember Ike Eisenhower, mashed potato head? Course you don’t. Hand me that fucking bottle.

Anyone else? Anyone else got the fucking balls to stand up to me? Any other cocksucker here brave enough to pull a knife on Dennis Hopper? Sure. You. The ghost of my second wife.

….

AHHHHHH-WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

We ride at midnight. The fuck time is it anyways?

Avatar: RACIST PLOT!??!

In a word, no. But now that we have your attention, there’s been quite a large earthquake in Haiti. We’re quite frankly a little offended that you would even take the time to read an article about this ridiculous assertion regarding the latest wham-bam James Cameron epic.

If there is a racist plot, then it would be You, Joe and Josephine Reader, sitting there and reading this article, while meanwhile scores of articles describing the plight of the Haitian people sit mere inches away. Unread.
Please, help the Haitian people. Read the articles. Maybe even give some money.

Did you see last night’s Idol? Of course you did. I wonder who will win!? That one guy with the dyed black hair, am I right? Can you say “totally hot straight Adam Lambert”?

Can you also say “unspeakable tragedy in Haiti”? That’s what people who care about the world are saying.
No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to strong-arm you. That was harsh. Come back. Really. Come back. Trust me, like the Na’avi trusted their white savior, Jake Sully. Maybe it was a racist plot after all. Yes, maybe James Cameron’s latest whiz-bang action spectacle is racist after all.

Or maybe not. But do you realize how easy it is to give money to Haiti!? You can text it, for Chrissakes, (or, for Sullysakes, if that what it takes for you to listen.) Even George Strombolopoulus is in on this, and he seems like a real dick.

It’s a sad comment on the state of society if we need to distract you with buzz words like Blu Rays, and Jay Leno, and The Situation. It’s sad that you’re all trudging out in the winter to go see a 3 dimensional James Cameron whigamaroo action experience, rather than donating money to Haiti. All three dimensions in Haiti are messed up right now. People are losing their Avatars, and their houses.

See, the Earth was trying to steal unobtainium from the Haitian people. In this case, “unobtanium” means “homes,” “family,” and “food.” You have the chance to be Jake Sully in this scenario. Give money to Haiti. Please.
Seriously, we’ll even let you keep the glasses.

To Give Money to Haiti, Click Here

To Purchase Tickets to the next Avatar Screening in Your City, Click Here

This is the End

Well, this is really the end of TL and the end of comedy in general, right?

I mean, c’mon!

Just Your Regular Everyday Aud Com

Hey blog readers,

Friends of the blog recently found this audio recording in the wreckage of the Titanic. Hope it floats your boat

CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD

Timmy’s on YouTube!

Here’s a video from a proud reader of the blog and an even prouder father.

To The Editors of The New Berliner

Gentlemen, the cartoon in question is, as its stands, ridiculous.

Dear Editors,

I am writing to you re: a recent editorial cartoon published in the Saturday evening edition of The New Berliner. On page 43 [dreiundveirzig], a cartoon attributed to staff illustrator Joe Himmel depicted our most esteemed ruler, emperor, and Deutscher Kaiser und König von Preußen, Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm Viktor Albrecht [hence, Wilhelm II or, Herr Kaiser] attempting to take a bite out of a globe resembling the Planet Earth as if it were a Cookie, Round Fruit, or Spherically-Shaped Piece of Chocolate. [I have attached a copy of scribble same with this letter.]

Christian’s Tips

Friends of the blog have provided this informative video:

One World Government Declares Every Third Friday Hawaiian Shirt Day

Fort Bilderberg citizen #8346 ("Dad") embraces the newly mandated Global Aloha! Day.

(Center City, Earth) A press release issued by the cabal of word leaders comprising the New World Order revealed today that, beginning with the third Friday of this month, every third Friday will be henceforth be commemorated as Hawaiian Shirt Day, or, Aloha! Day.

The announcement comes months after the United Nations, IMF, Elders of Zion, Freemasons and several worldwide ecclesiastical authorities consolidated their power as a means of putting an end to global power struggles and securing the future of the human race. While projects initiated by the world government (colloquially, “The Gov”) have thus far proven unanimously popular—from the worldwide installation of Esperanto academies, to the adoption of a single globalized credit system, to the appointment of a benevolent posthuman ruling caste—this announcement injects some degree of levity into an administration whose “strictly business” mandates have resulted in their appearing cold, inaccessible and ogreish in the eyes of some extreme uncooperatives.

My Top Five Albums of All Time

These are not just my top five albums of all time. There is no argument. These are simply the top five albums of all time. How can I be so sure? Because while all the other kiddies are dipping their fingers in paint, I’m reading liner notes. Because when I hear my entire kindergarten class butcher the polyphony when doing something as simple as singing the rounds to Kiss From A Rose, a part of me dies inside. Because I’m Lester Bangs’ fucking grandson, that’s why.

Calm Down – Myths That Should Be Left Behind

Hey bros, we’re moving towards 2010 at what feels like a record pace. Humans are evolving, civilization is maturing, and yet in some areas we still remain behind. Ever since the ancient Greeks, humans have been held back by various myths. I’m tired of that and am here to debunk for you the worst myths of the last year. Like the great Siddharta would say, truth above everything is the mantra for the new decade!