The Aristocrats

Happy Boxing Day, you Canadian bastards. So, how was everyone's weekend? Mine was pretty good. Friday, Jester, Harley, Ari, and I loaded up The Blaab (actually, Harley didn't help much), and we headed to Roanoke (IN, not VA). The trip was fairly pedestrian, although we did stop in Plymouth (IN, not MA or MI) at an Arby's, which was next to a Wendy's, whose sign said "With Wendy's Gift Certificates, the Possibilities are Endless." Having thought of several possibilities that I am certain cannot be attained through the use of Wendy's gift certificates -- the legalization of polygamy; the elimination of The South; making Suzy Kolber's voice unannoying; global nuclear holocaust; the invention of a new superbreed of horse that can prepare individual income taxes efficiently, accurately, and affordably; reversion to pangea; making the word "queef" a part of everyday vernacular in the English language; or building a really sweet fort, to name a few -- I have very intention of filing a class action false advertising suit tomorrow.

Friday night, Jester, Ari, Lizzie, Liz, and I went up to the Fort for some dinner and a couple drinks. After one round of NTN trivia at Buckets, I had already shattered the all-time Buckets one-round record by over 2,000 points (bear in mind that the maximum points in a round is 15,000). So next time you're playing NTN at Bucket's, just know that the "DOG" you're chasing is GMYH.

On Saturday, we opened presents at the Pope/Bogan homestead. Among other things, I got a pretty sweet tailgating grill, which will ensure that I enjoy tailgating even more than I already do, which I didn't think was possible.

On Sunday, we packed up The Blaab and headed back to Chicago. The trip back was without incident. I didn't even have to hold onto the steering wheel.

Monday, we had my mom, dad, aunt, and brother over to our place for some more present unwrapping. Good times were had. Presents were unwrapped. Souls were not crushed. Jessie made a fantastic spread of food, including ham, garlic rosemary red potatoes, green bean casserole, three-layered jello, individual pumpkin pies, ginger snaps, rolls, shrimp, crackers and brie, rotola, and a nice veggie plate with dill dip. Not to be outdone, I sliced a pineapple. Gluttony ensued.

Tonight, Jessie and I watched The Aristocrats (not to be confused with The Aristocats), which was a present from Kyla (gracias). I found it to be quite entertaining. It's about an old joke from the Vaudeville era that comics tell each other, and the movie featured a ton of comics telling the joke in their respective fashions (Bob Saget probably had the best one). Here is the original joke (or close enough):

A guy walks into a talent agent's office, and says to the agent, "Boy do I have
an act for you." The agent says, "Well, what kind of an act is it?" The man
says, "It's a family act. My wife and I walk out on stage and take a big
shit right in the middle of the stage. Then our son and daughter come out
on stage, lie down and wallow in the shit." The agent asks, "What do
you call it?" The man says, "The Aristocrats."

As Jessie so aptly pointed out, it's irony of title. Comedians now use the joke as an excuse for oneupsmanship, making the middle is as outrageous and vulgar as possible, setting everything up for the punchline at the end. At the end of the movie, it says that it wants the viewers to spread the word to keep the joke alive. However, the joke is only supposed to be said in private. Wanting to respect the unwritten rules of comics, I won't write out what my version of "The Aristocrats" would entail. Plus, my version would be so repulsive and over-the-top that it would just be too vile to put into concrete written form, but suffice it to say, it would involve some or all of the following: defecation; urination; ejaculation; lactation (female, male, and animal); bleeding, and lots of it; regurgitations, mostly of sperm, feces, urine, and blood, or any combination thereof; sexual intercourse; oral sex; anal sex; digital penetration; fisting (most of it bicep deep); rampant queefing; sodomy, and violent sodomy at that; felching; incest; necrophilia; the combination of incest and necrophilia; bestiality; necrobestiality; the forced ingestion of used feminine napkins and full diapers; family elephant walks; the rape and murder (not necessarily in that order) of children, dogs, chickens, goats, senior citizens, fetuses, and Darfurian refugees; the insertion of Louisiana Hot Sauce into eyes, ears, noses, and pee holes; leprocy and the penetration of lepers with their own limbs; the insertion of Calista Flockheart feet first into a man's anus; skullfucking your grandma; rusty trombones between grandfather and grandson; bathing in yak sperm; the actual eating and chugging of pussy and cock, respectively; the throwing of placenta and the still-born babies to which it is attached at the stupid woman who couldn't give birth to a live baby; midgets masturbating into the forced-open mouths of deaf children, so that they can see the fact that they are swallowing midget sperm, but not be able to hear the midgets laughing; Reggie Roby and Ray Guy punting ostrich eggs into various orifices of man, woman, and child; boxing the ears of blind children; the rampant use of tusks from freshly poached baby elephants; and the ritualistic molestation of special needs children and young adults. Oh, and maybe some dirty talk. I'd probably call it "The Aristocrats."

And yes, I am fully aware that I will be rotting in hell, where I will most likely be sodomized by Gene Keady, who for some reason has razor blades and a lemon juice squirter instead of a penis.