Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Like You’ve Never Been Pope, Visited A Continent Where 22 Million People Are Living With HIV, And Said That Condoms Only Increased The Problem Of AIDs

Apparently, priests had complained to the Holy Pontiff that
sex with altar boys "just didn't feel as good" with condoms


Saturday, March 21, 2009

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Eleventh Avenue Freeze-Out: Bruce On The Daily Show

Tonight, at 11pm, my worlds will collide in a way they have not since Prince scored the soundtrack for Batman back in 1989. (Who, aside from Tim Burton, could've foreseen such an alliance?)

This union—Bruce Springsteen appearing on The Daily Show—is not nearly as surprising, considering Jon Stewart's unabashed worshipping of Bruce and their well-known liberal leanings. If that isn't a recipe for comedy, I don't know what is!

That's not true.

I actually have a wonderful recipe for comedy that's been in my family for generations, passed down from my bella bisabuela.

* * *

5 clowns
3 liters Johnny Walker Black Label
2 wiener dogs
6 oz. castor oil
8-ball of cocaine
1 baseball
Tony Randall

First, mix the Johnny Walker and 4 of the clowns (hold onto the 5th clown for later) in a small windowless room. After 30 minutes, add the two wiener dogs and the cocaine. When the dogs start eating the clowns' faces, mix in Tony Randall. Meanwhile, give the 5th clown the castor oil. Next, walk in and hit Tony Randall in the nuts with the baseball. Once he's suitably writhing in pain, send in the 5th clown and have him shit on Tony Randall's head. Presto! You're done. Enjoy!

* * *


That was beyond weird. Johnny can be pretty fucking sick sometimes.

My apologies. Here's some actual comedy to whet your appetite for this evening...

Sunday, March 15, 2009

On Milfs, Gilfs And Yummy Mummies

I'm here to tell you about the saddest day of my life.

It wasn't a day when someone close to me died or some other terrible atrocity—like waking up blind or losing a hand—befell me.

It was far worse than that.

The saddest day of my life was when I realized I was too old to use the term milf.

Distressed doesn't begin to describe the state I was in. More like big hair, strip malls and Camaros blaring Bon Jovi. Yes, I was in the state of New Jersey at the time. In my Camaro, blaring "Shot Through The Heart," in a mall parking lot.

Despite the ass-kicking soundtrack, I was banging my fists on the steering wheel, crying my eyes out. A super hottie in her mid-3os had just walked by and as I thought, "Total milf..." it hit me: I was older than she was.

Truth is—the cold, hard truth—I'd been using milf way beyond my personal expiration date. It should have been excised from my vocabulary a long, long time ago. I believe you lose the privilege of using the term (and yes, it's a privilege) once you graduate college—though, maybe, just maybe, you can get an extension for grad school. (The term yummy mummy is a different animal, altogether. I don't think there is ever an appropriate time to use it, no matter your age. In all seriousness, I find the term incredibly offensive. Not because it’s sexist or misogynistic, but because it’s so goddamn stupid. It, in its crassness, lacks the grace and dignity of milf.)

Before I continue, a little background. Milf, as we all know, is one of the greatest terms ever coined by man. I'm not sure there exists another word in the English language that expresses exactly what it means more clearly and, um, explicitly.

Like a good many heterosexual males born in the Seventies, I always had a thing for older women. Without getting too Oedipal, I believe it had a lot to do with coming of age during the advent of pay TV. I'm not talking basic cable, I'm talking HBO and Cinemax. Every Friday and Saturday night, after 10pm, those channels—those magnificent channels—always screened a movie with some hot older woman getting it on with a younger guy, from My Tutor to The Last American Virgin to The Bitch with Joan Collins. ("Getting it on"? Since when does Johnny—he of the banging and the fucking and the sucking—use a phrase like "getting it on"? It sounds like the title of a movie that would fit right in with the ones I just mentioned. "Don't miss Getting It On, with Adrienne Barbeau, tonight at 10 on Cinemax!")

The Graduate, these films were not.

No, they were better. For one simple reason, the only one that matters to a twelve-year old: They had nudity. Lots of it. Not that partial nudity bullshit either.

Throw in a few friends with hot moms (partial nudity would've more than sufficed for the buxom Mrs. Stewart—bouncy, bouncy—or the redheaded Mrs. Paige) and Van Halen's "Hot For Teacher" video, and voila! you have a generation of pre-teen boys with an older woman fetish. One that evolved further as those boys aged and gravitated toward films with similar subject matter, albeit more mainstream appeal, like To Die For, Notes On A Scandal and the brilliant short, Zen And The Art Of Landscaping.

Then one day, you're all grown up, sitting in your Camaro in the parking lot of a New Jersey mall and you realize that when you say you dig older women, you're inadvertently talking about grandmothers.


Take it easy. Even Johnny's not that sick.

(Or is he?)

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Johnny-ism Of The Day: "Facefucking"

Considered in some quarters the most disturbing of all the masturbation arts, facefucking is beating off to a photo of someone's face, say, a 1024x768 hi-res image of Keira Knightley (thank you, www.hotcelebritywallpaper.com!), cropped so that only her perfectly-sculpted face, with its pouty lips and knowing eyes, is staring back at you from your computer screen. Or a 75x75 lo-res image no bigger than a postage stamp of someone you worked with 15 years ago at a temp job in Marlborough, MA and could've sworn there was a connection, a spark, and dammit why didn't you do something about it. (Thank you, tiny LinkedIn! profile photo that I can't enlarge without contacting said former colleague directly, no doubt raising suspicions that I only contacted her to gain access to a larger profile photo that I would inevitably beat off to—after all, isn't that what every woman on a social networking site suspects when contacted by a member of the opposite sex? No? Well, they should.) Additional note: Rare instances of facefucking involving illustrations, not photos, have also been documented. These cases usually develop due to the deviant's lack of success in finding a photo of a particular someone—thanks for nothing, Blake Silver, P.I.—coupled with possessing a photographic memory and rudimentary drawing skills.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Fuck Muschi Shemale Anal Dildo Old Granny Nude Gallery Sarah Panty Madness Finger Girl Chilenas Desnudas Mujeres

That—in its entirety—was the top search result Google gave me while looking for the lyrics to an old Al Martino song for my dad. For those unfamiliar, i.e., everyone, Al Martino played Johnny Fontane in The Godfather. ("And then Johnny Fontane comes along with his olive oil voice and guinea charm!") That’s right—Spanish Johnny’s father is a wop. Go figure. Interestingly, while he loved The Godfather, he hated The Sopranos because “they make us look like a bunch of gavoons.” Touché, old man.

But, I digress.

Let's talk about the above title for a moment. I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that muschi means vagina in both German and Swiss. But, you already knew that, right? And you don’t need Spanish Johnny to tell you the last three words of said title translate to “Chilean nude women.”

Ah, the Internet.

This search confirmed something I’ve suspected for a long, long time: No matter what you type into Google, something filthy always shows up. Crazy, crazy filthy. Every time, without fail. Likewise, no matter what you type into Google Images, a photo of a woman blowing some dude comes up. Like clockwork. (Or, should I say cockwork?)

Yes. I should definitely say cockwork. In fact, we should all say cockwork. Step away from your keyboards, walk to your nearest doorway or window, open it, and yell out at the top of your lungs, “COCKWORK!” If you’re female, take off your blouse, for good measure.

God, your tits are amazing.

Now cover yourself up, sweetie. Wouldn’t want to catch a cold now, would we? Okay, back to my point: The wonderful, beautiful depravity of Google. Type in MOTHER TERESA—click—woman swallowing cock. PUPPIES—click—woman with cute pups…sucking cock. CATHOLICISM—click—some old dude in his vestments cradling the balls and devouring the cock.

Not that I’m complaining.

I—apart from the occasional priest blowing the altar boy—love it. There’s nothing more pleasant than coming across a picture of a woman peeing on her friend while stroking the surprisingly adorable cock of a Shetland pony when all you’re looking for is the capital of Colombia. (Bogotá.) But, it does make for an awkward moment if you happen to be doing so with your dego dad or, worse, your female boss. Especially, if she’s the woman being peed on.

As for the lyrics we were searching for? We found them—eventually. But, not before Google offered us Mom Anal Adventure Local Chubby Girl Escorts Female Squirting Anal Surgery What To Expect After Japanese Gesiha Girl Tattoo Penis Bruising Girl Explodes After Hard Fuck.

Thank you, Google.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Johnny-ism Of The Day: "Lower Back Bush"

Often abbreviated as "LBB," the lower back bush is the unspeakable tuft of hair situated in the small of a man's back. Inexplicably separated from both upper back hair and ass hair, and surrounded by channels of bare skin, it is a hairy island of shame.