Thursday, August 21, 2008

Political Correctness? Not for Marc Anthony Gamberony

Remember in the movie, "MARS ATTACKS", the aliens vaporized the entire Congress, boy if they did that in 2008 the MARTIANS would not realize the favor they d be doing us.  Why not vaporize them; they are either on vacation, taking free trips, getting their familiy members lobbying jobs, bullshitting the bullshit absorbing media, pointing fingers, or more than anything else NOT DOING ONE FUCKING THING!!!!!!!

So Now Congress Has An Approval Rating of 8%!!!!!!!!!!!  I could pick a bunch of animals out of my barn and they could get an 8% approval rating......And they ain t all Lawyers.  Actually we should send vampire bats to Congress, they d suck our blood along with our dollars, and it d be quicker.  WE THE PEOPLE?????????  Sadly friends, NO. Them, it s only about Them, the elitists, who will always be warm, cool, well fed, comfortable, hanging with shallow, vain celebrities, and trying with all their might to tell us how to live our lives.  Marc isn t a LEMMING, so they can fuck off.

 

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I am in Witness Protection but that doesn t mean I'm invisible; I feel like the choice between political candidates is like choosing between cholera or typhus.  The Congress seems to forget they work for us; I got an idea, let s fire all of them, physically throw all their special interest groups out of the city, and put people who care about OUR INTERESTS IN OFFICE.  And what s with the Supreme Court?  They are not meant to legislate, that s the job of the rotten Congress to be honest, so why are the judges revising the Constitution, and even worse, they all vote along idealogical lines, every vote seems to be 5-4.  You want those wizened trolls deciding your future?  If you look close, I think 2 of them are already dead.  And what s this Political Correctness shit?

It is, in reality, a way to halt dissent.  One side can say anything they wish, you know, free speech, but the other said can t say anything.  What is that?  Political Correctness began in the Soviet Union, then to Germany, and finally to our shores, it slithered in like waste through a sewer.  The day will come when I can t order a yellow American cheese sandwich on Italian bread with brown mustard.  Yellow, American, Italian and brown will offend someone, so I ll have to say cheese on bread.  A Western Omelet will be offensive; to order it, you ll have to ask for the Omelet with all the shit in it. 

It even affects team nicknames, at least it will soon

you can t say Colorado Avalanche cause that diminishes other climatic catastrophies like typhoons, monsoons, mudslides, earthquakes

you can t say Colorado Rockies cause that leaves out the Alps, Pyrennes, Andes

you can t say Denver Broncos cause that shows no respect for colts, mares, mustangs

Can t even say bald eagle, gotta say folically challenged eagle.

The great novel IVANHOE, now you gotta say, IVAN-HA. it s humiliating for that noble knight, people laughing at him.

PC CAN KISS MY ASS.

all my best amigos, Marc Anthony Gamberony

 

Monday, August 11, 2008

UNCLE BAG

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT ALL THE ENTRIES CAN BE READ BY CLICKING ON THE "OLDER ENTRIES" LINK AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE. YOU CAN ALSO GO TO THE LINK

http://journals.aol.com/gamberony/pissed-off-in-witness-protection/

and follow more of the ONGOING STORY.

UNCLE BAG

 

So, back home in the Western United States (naturally I can't say where, Witness Protection bullshit ok?); the horse tried to bite me, the sheep wanted to roll on me, the pig peed on my leg, the goat butted my ass, Thunder, the collie bared his teeth at me, And (inside the house) Puss N Boots puked up a ceramic cookie jar sized hairball. My lovely wife is selling exotic under garments to the local ladies, I come in and some girl, Contessa, is wearing a tiny bra and thong, whoops, yeah, that'll work, except that Contessa is 22 with 5 kids already, I mean, really her old man doesn t need any Encouragement, not even close.

Get a f--g hobby Hector.

Nana, my mother, is going through her unending process of sneezing, wheezing, coughing, farting, taking pills, taking her blood pressure, taking her pulse, taking a nap, yawning, itching, twitching and bitching. Welcome to Gamberony General, shitttttttt.

I walk on the porch, a frigging elk or doe or buffalo runs by, and then stupid Billy Bob appears before me. He says Thunder the collie is nasty and someone should mace him. I explained that a UPS driver did that once and all it accomplished it that he drove away on 3 wheels with 9 fingers. Billy Bob (unlike Running Deer), doesn t know I am in Witness Protection;

Billy Bob thinks I am Greek, and once owned a diner. He asks me if there is a Greek Mafia, and I told him yes, but instead of breaking legs, they break plates. And instead of sleeping with the fish, you sleep in the old hot dog water. Stupid bastard believed me. Running Deer showed up, we took a ride to town, and while standing outside the General Store, a big white Cadillac pulled up, and a gun toting old man got out of it

The old man with the gun approached me; Billy Bob who thinks I'm Greek was oblivious, Running Deer, who knows the truth, tensed up. The old man looked about, stretched, you could see the pistol in his pocket, he coughed, bent over, slowly straightened up, came briskly to me, shook his head, smiled, and kissed me full on the lips.

IT'S MY UNCLE BAG!!!!!!!!!!!

My late father's brother, Brutus Achilles Gamberony, and my favorite, if only, Uncle. Poor bastard has had so much surgery, you could feed an animal shelter for a month on the spare parts. Three scantily clad ladies followed him outof the car; Uncle Bag always had an entourage.

As I greeted Uncle BAG, my mind was filled with memories, ideas, visions of where I had been and was going; my father was a mob guy, the FBI tried to prove he was sane, but he was f-g nuts, we all knew that, he was gone.Every Christmas kids would come and sing carols, and he'd burst into "Good King Worcestershire", or sing and act out "Heat Miser" until the kids would give us back our $10 tip and even add $5 to shut him up. He usta knock cigarettes outta my mouth with a dog leash; it started as a hobby, and got out of hand, till it was the highlight of family get-togethers. He always wanted me and my brother to be his personal shooting gallery ducks, that is, bobbing left and right, as he tried to hit us with watermelon rinds. He kept score. He d also yell "Pull" and we d run while he tried to hit us with his slingshot. F--g crazy, my mom loved him, stopped his antics, but he was a looney tune.

Here is the song he sang to us as kids (this in a thick Italian accent) (an accent he developed at 35).

"The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout, down came the rain and drown the spider dead, out came the sun and burn the carcass dry, and the itsy bitsy spider ain't gonna catch no fly"

"The itsy bitsy ants went on my stove top, I turned on the jet, it cooked them quite a lot, Snapa-Crackle-Pop they all began to roast, and in just about a minute the colony was toast."

 

Brutus Achilles Gamberony, is a made guy, a retired guy, and my dear uncle; he got out of his car, his 3 hot girls stood on the street, posing like they were selling a freaking vowel, and I just shook my head. Uncle Bag said it s funny Achilles is his middle name, since his Achilles Heel is the only area he hasn t had surgery, infection, injury,etc. He's heard "Clear" more than most weather forecasters and be around more paddles than a canoe-rental or pro ping pong player. He figures he s been hit with enough total voltage to disable Godzilla.

Speaking of weather, Uncle Bag always watched the Spanish station for that; the girl walked about in a short skirt and tank top, and Bag would say, "Everyday's a great day when she's telling ya. Hit me with it baby, move that jet stream, sway them highs, jiggle them lows, lay that El Ninoon me". Uncle Bag couldn t speak Spanish, but his thought was, "Look at her, screw the weather, hell, if they show me a cloud with shit coming out of it, I ll carry a frigging umbrella."

Poor Uncle Bag, he has scars on his body that resemble the Russian Railway System;but he never quits. I asked about the girls, he told, rather simply, "I pay them, that s why they're here." Said they were good company, although the last time he had angina, he asked for a nitro and they gave him a Reeses Pieces.

Bag, being Bag, called Running Deer "Tonto" and Billy Bob "Huck Finn"; I explained Running Deeris my best friend, so Bag apologized and kissed him on both cheeks, I said Billy Bob was dangerous, he was a town employee. Bag said that only meant he was easy to buy off. I told him Billy Bob's cousin a was judge, Uncle Bag smiled, said, "even easier to pay off", I told him the other cousin was the Mayor, and Uncle Bag said "and there you go, we have a winner, the politician, not only the the easiest to bribe, but the cheapest. They bend over for a song."

He sent Billy Bob for coffees, warning, "I have diabetes, if you put sugar in mine, "I'll pull out your yellow picket fence teeth with ice tongs". Billy Bob seemed confused, scared,but we waved to him and he went on his task.

It was a warm day,and Bag told the girls. "Car wash huh, it's dirty, c'mon ladies, let s go". The girls were suddenly in bikinis, And washing the car. Running Deer and I watched the spectacle,and Bag explained, "They are fine ain't they, but ya know, I just look, it gets me through; shit the last time I had an orgasm was when I crossed the wires while jumpstarting my caddy.

Wow. Intense. Frigging Triple A ain t doing that for you. That s what I called Roadside Assistance."

He then ordered the girls to do WAX ON, WAX OFF, and they leaned into the car, needless tosay the effect was staggering,

Uncle Bag exclaimed "now how can you not like Wax on Wax off? The real soft shammy, he cleared his throat, although I worry, they all got implants, kinda hard, don t want them cutting the glass on the windows.

Uncle Bag is old school, real old, ancient; WOW he is. And, well, like my dear departed father, somewhat NUTS.

One time he was catherized due to kidney problems+was bagged,but he was in Florida, hot, and couldn t cover it up, so he simply stocked the plastic bag like it was a fishtank; he put a fake diver, Greek ruins, a treasure chest, plants; NUTTY MAN. . He said if Japanese Fighting Fish were so tough, how come they couldn t survive in the bag. Cause it s piss you lunatic.

He actually wantedto use food coloring to change the liquid's color at intervals, like somesort of lava lamp or some shit; I asked "what do you do if it turns red? "

He said, "Dial 911, hit the nearest E.R., or put 3 hollow points in my noodle". Uncle Bag is a screwball.

 

 

 

 

 

MY SISTER CLEOPATRA GAMBERONY

My name, of course, is Mark Anthony Gamberony; back home in New Jersey, I have a sister,Cleopatra Gamberony, a girl who gives new meaning to the term Italian- American Princess.  For Cleo, a difficult birth means the private duty nurse leaves at 8:00 PM and only does lighthousekeeping.  Whereas Eskimo women grunt, drop the kid on the tundra, cut the cord with a walrus tusk, and while nursing, kill a seal, Cleo took every painkiller known to the modern world, suffered from Breast Milk Backwash, and was in bed with “the Vapors” for like 3 months. 

She did however make sure that her placenta was bronzed and now resides on the kitchen table as a centerpiece or rather odd cornucopia. Cleo is married to Leo; if you put Leo's brain inside a frog, you d have a fairly bright frog; not the brightest in the pond, but top 5.  Leo would lose at tic tac toe if you gave him the first 4 moves. 

Cleo likes money, a lot, so much that she took a job cleaning houses; a noble profession except for the fact that her house looks like itwas hit by a meteor shower.  One of her kids was missing for an entire day before he was discovered in her laundry room, hidden in the mass and maze of clothes that stand there like snow drifts in Buffalo, New York.  Her first cleaning job, she was overcome by Window Cleaner, called 911, and set off a production that included police, helicopters, guys inradiation suits, and FEMA. 

Pets fare poorly in Cleo's home; average estimated survival rate, 48 hours.  When she shows up at the pet shop, all the animals scurry to the back of their cages, well aware that the Grim Reaper has arrived.  She got her kids lizards, these lizards eat crickets, not great for the crickets, but what the hey we all gotta eat; They Eat Crickets, that doesn t mean when you run out you substitute with June bugs, moths,or caterpillars, doesn t work that way.  The lizards became the newest casualty statistic.

I got Leo a job as a bouncer at one of our clubs, how hard can that be?  You only gotta know how to say 2 things, “Let s see some proof” and “:hey guys in the band, what it isdudes”, not exactly Mensa material working the doors.  Leo screwed it up, he let in underage people, he checks their driver’s license, he does the math, he looks into space; man I didn’t t know it was Calculus, didn’t t think we needed Pythagoras to figure out if some chick is 21 or not.  He wanted to buy a truck, he goes over the financing, he  can t afford a truck; he started to cry. 

He started to cry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I told him, hey genius, you don t cry over some truck.  You cry if your gumba gets whacked coming out of a clam bar, you cry if the unions call in their retirement fund markers, you cry if the capo summons you for a meeting on his turf where you’ll be safe!!!!!!!!!!!  Open the floodgates.  

Cleo doesn t know where I am, if she did, she d sic the hit men on me faster than you can say, ‘love ya sissy................YEAH RIGHT

Friday, August 8, 2008

THERE ARE CERTAIN THINGS THAT I, THE SCARF, CANNOT UNDERSTAND

What s with the f---g Che Guevara T Shirts????????? The guy was a murderer who enjoyed putting people up against walls and shooting them,  and he is glorified? Well, I have the transcript of his final minutes in Bolivia, so for all the "love people", the 60's types, you know, old ponytailed guys wearing Che t shirts over their bulging Man Boobs, smoking Weed whilst combating COPD, and engaging in free for all sex with old hippie chicks (between extreme erectile disfunction and universal vaginal dryness, it must be a struggle for all and indeed a nausea inducing Visual), but, here we go.

Che wanted to start a revolution in Bolivia, the army met him, and they said, "Welcome to Bolivia Mr. Guevara",

then they sang, as they shot, "BANG BANG BOOM BOOM , BANG BANG BOOM BOOM."

As the murderous clown fell to earth, they put 6 arrows in him, tossed 3 grenades, had a horse gallop over him, stoned him with huge boulders, fired poison darts in him, used him for knife throwing practice, and blowgunned him 67 times.

The Bolivian army man called out to his second in command, "R----------------aul, look we got another suicide here. Amigo, people are just so depressed. Ok, let s all wave goodbye to Mr. Revolutionary, hey, Che, you shoulda tried Brazil or Argentina, you coulda played a little soccer or befriended a few Nazis at least, instead, your useless ass is grass. But who knows, maybe they'll make a t-shirt of you. Yeah right, in a pigs ass."

:

Congress has a 26% approval rating...............Would any of us have a job with a 26% approval rating?????????? What they do have though is a 74% approval rating

at lining their pockets with OUR MONEY. Well done guys and gals, enjoy your free trips to Venice, etc.

Elitists don t want oil drilling, nuke plants, coal, or high gas prices? So, um, what, we, "the little people", conserve, what we read by candlelight and keep warm with animal skins while they drive limos?? There's enough hot air in D.C. and Hollywood to float a few balloons but not their private jets.

Somalian cabbies in the USA won't take people as fares who have seeing eye dogs. Guys, they don t want the animal as food or sex partners,  they CAN T SEE...

Ah that great Muslim compassion once again. I got an idea, go drive a taxi back in Somalia, no potholes, well only land mines, and when you get stiffed over there, you really get stiffed; generally by a machete welding war lord. But, by all means return to the fatherland; you probably take home, what, 3 chickens, 6 rodents a week, NET?

Art to me, means Picasso, Da Vinci, Van Gogh, now its people spraying various body fluids on a canvas; what is that?

Performance art now involves a naked guy on all fours with a carrot up to the stem sticking out of his tookus........Not exactly Mummenchantz.

Heard a woman talking about Great Britain letting scientists mix human and animal genes together; YIKES, butttttttttttttt, she was more concerned that these "People"would face in-tolerance, prejudice, etc. I m thinking to myself, "are you f---g crazy lady, we're talking Frankenstein here, it s not about who sits where on the bus.

It s about a guy with antlers and a tail walking into the grocery store or a mom tossing her youngest out of the nest because he doesn t measure up.

Are you INSANE LADY?

Tolerance!!!!!!!!!! It s about lunacy; gee Daddy I can see why i can t date Caucasians but how aboutLizard Boy? See, he even uses his tongue to keep our home clean of pests.

How about when the centaur comes to pick up your daughter for the junior prom!!!!!! Dad's like, "yes hon his bow tie is superb, nice carnation, but, I mean, my, I can t help but notice his member as it swings pendulum-like as if preparing to irrigate crops". It s about the sanctity of human life you fool.

Where does it end?

Your wife carries the kids in her pouch? You run the Kentucky Derby, shower, have a few brews, and sit in your recliner to watch yourself on SportsCenter?

Do they mix humans with fish?

Great image, 2 sal-menswimming upstream, one is gay and doesnt want to drop his sperm on the eggs, so the straight sal-mentells him to aim for the starfish or seaweed or sea sponge; the straight one also tells him, "if you f-gget any of that on me, I'll grab you by the gills, swim back and feed you to that grizzly bear we ducked".

In the words of the wicked witch of the west, "WHAT A WORLD".

yeah no shit witch.

 

People ask me The Scarf about the presidential races........like I give a shit. C'mon, we ve all seen the "Godfather" the strings holding up the puppet, no way am I ever gonna be that.

With all their family member lobbyists, earmarks, speaking fees, the only sound coming out of Congress is not yes or no, it 's

CHA-CHING,

CHA-CHING,

CHA-CHING,

as they pad their wallets to the size of the Trojan Horse. Picking a candidate for any, ANY OFFICE in this country is like being trapped in North Korea and eating their buffet, the choices are; Happy Family Pet, Sweet and Sour Old Horse, Sesame Sauce Sawdust,

or Dissident General Tsao's Nuts in Hot Sauce. Ummmmmmmm I ll pass, can I get a YANKEE DOODLE?

 

 

 

 

 

CHINESE DRAGONFISH IN MY LOCAL LAKE

I returned to the USA, and my local lake was inhabited by Chinese Dragonfish (how they got there nobody knows), who crawl on land along with swimming,  and who were terrorizing cattle, pit bulls, destroying tree houses, attacking jet skiers, until Billy Bob, Running Deer, and yours truly, THE SCARF, came up with a plan.

Billy Bob's other cousin, the mayor, figured we should poison the lake. He said that way people could swim in it during the summer. Yea, jackass, the summer of like 3006. Bad plan. Typical politician, misconnection between his head and mouth, speaks before his brain tells him what an asshole idea he had. Plus I was busy kissing my wife Marie, we had missed each other, we continued kissing till my mother, the haggis Nana, used her plant sprayer on us. She said the temperature in the house rose 50 degrees when we got together; like it s a frigging rain forest ride in Disney World or something.

Basta

Basta.

According to Billy Bob rumors persisted that the dragonfish had attacked a rowboat, spilling out the inhabitants and devouring their bait, a tuna salad sub, and a 6 pack of light beer; furthermore, they had returned to land and taken down a buffalo. I thought he was f----------g insane, butttttttttttt,

ok, time for action. Running Deer, Billy Bob and the Scarf went to the lake. Billy Bob said we should

Go Sailing across, if I'd a know that I woulda brought my Christopher Cross 8 track tapes;

Running Deer and I said no to that concept. We got Billy Bob a snorkel, a spear gun, tied an oven stuffer roaster to each of his legs, and heaved his ass into the water. Running Deer and I agreed, we were only deputy volunteers, Billy Bob got the big bucks, so if somebody was going down like Quint in this Jaws-like expedition it was gonna be him.

Billy Bob surfaced, and said he d encountered a man of war, and a great white; we explained he was in a f-----g lake, noticed the small frog on the end of his spear, and threw him under again. In case of trouble, Running Deer and I loaded our pistols, and made sure the sticks of TNT were dry. We figured if the fish came on land, we would crouching tiger hidden dragon blast their asses back to Shanghai.

Billy Bob surfaced again, and said we should maybe try to fool them or scare them. Fool them?

What? Yell over loud speakers that it was the year of the dragon fish, time for a parade?

Scare them? How? Bait the hook with a picture of Chang Kai Shek? See if they are defectors?

As Billy went down again, something rustled in the bushes, Running Deer and I set for a fight,

and Rufus came out. He wanted to take the fish alive, he was dragging big stones tied around

his waist and he dove in and sunk, well, like a stone. We hoped his scales didn t come off in the

lake. We also wondered whether the entire ph of the lake would be affected, would it be acid or base. Base, um, very base, Rufus hadn t seemed to have bathed in the new millenium.

Something surfaced, it was hideous, i told Running Deer, "my my you see the shit that floats up

around here". We realized it was Rufus, and as we didn t want to actually touch him, we used

a tree limb to yank him back on shore. He was face down. Oh no. I asked Running Deer,

"So, are we gonna save Man-Phibian or what? Running Deer straddled Rufus, trying to force out

the water, just as Billy Bob surfaced and explained although he had no problem with how people

got their kinky kicks, what he was seeing might actually be illegal. Running Deer got up and

beat up Billy Bob, while I straddled Rufus, and worked the water out. After about 3 gallons of water, a few newts, a seashell, a piece of tire, the chain from a shopping cart, and a crab claw came up, Rufus was fine. He wanted the crab claw for later.

Dr. Oglethorpe rode his new bike into the scene, dragging behind it his wagon, and inside the wagon was a big vat. Oglethorpe said he had an escape free aquarium in his basement; the lake would not be poisoned, the fish would not be killed, they would cause no more trouble, and Rufus would have 2 new pets. Hmmmmmmmmmm. Just then Rufus dropped his pants and pulled a starfishoff his genitals to the sound of a wet shower mat being ripped up. Whew. As Rufus fell out cold on the ground, Billy Bob looked down and had a chinese dragon fish locked tightly on to each boot (yes he wore steel tipped work boots). Oglethorpe shot a spray which knocked out the fish, and being Oglethorpe, his aim was off and Billy Bob went down too; Oglethorpe place the fish in the vat in the wagon, tied Rufus' leg to back of the wagon, got on his bike, threw it into low gear, and made off like some Cycle Carnival of Horror, his spindly legs pumping, the vats bouncing in the wagon, and the carcass of Rufus uprooting plants and dirt as it was dragged on the back end. Oglethorpe assured usall would be well, yelled a "thank you part---ners" and as they disappeared from sight, Rufus gave us the finger

(he actually used his 4th finger, the dumb bastard) as he was plowed through a prickly thorn bush. I mean Really.......... it was Rufus; starfish, thorns, what harm could they do?

Billy Bob awoke, said he was a hero, docked our pay for lack of effort, put us on report, and

felt we needed a switch taken to our asses to motivate us. I motivated him; I took a stick of

TNT and told him; "back off our I'll put this dynamite right between your wet nurse sized man boobs, let it go off, and then allow the carrion birds to finish up". He agreed my point was made, but justfor good luck Running Deer and I tossed him back into the lake. I'm sure we will

be hearing from his cousins, the judge, the politician, the lawyer, but we had about $156 between us so the payoffs would be simple and painless. Billy Bob re-surfaced and was spouting off about davy jone locker, the posideon adventure, orca, etc. as we drove away. If anything we mourned the starfish, being that close to Rufus, heck, you could re-route a river to wash you, burn potpourri till it quit right on the stove, nothing took away that odor, this ain t no Bed, Bath and Beyond gig here. Stagnation Unlimited ok!!!!!!   I NEED TO GET BACK TO MY WIFE.......NOWWWWWWWWW

MARC ANTHONY GAMBERONY

 

WHEN I WAS SECURITY AT A HILLBILLY WEDDDING

I Got an emergency call from Billy Bob, he needed me and Running Deer to help provide

security at his cousin Calamity Jane's wedding to Bradley "Jimbo" Wheatley; OH GREAT.

I had seen them both around; Jane was some type of hillbilly cowgirl and Bradley

resembled a leprechaun in training; should be on a box of Lucky Charms. Gre------attttttt.

We got to Calamity's folks house, and all was set. Lotta space, multi-colored grass,

nice double wide trailor; there were many guests, tables and chairs, a buffet catered by Possum

Pete's Emporium, lotsa decorations, and a preacher who was dressed as if he d just left

the Magical Mystery Tour.. OKKKKKKKKKKKKKK.

Jane and Bradley were a blushing virgin couple,this despite they fact they d had about

12 previous marriages between them (not sure if half-siblings count). So, the festivities started,

and immediately Running Deer and I noticed 2 things; we were the only ones not packing firearms,

and because of that fact,we needed to give some friendly, efficient advice,

so no casulties were incurred during the reception.

I spoke to Calamity's folks, telling them...

A sign stating, "Cross this threshold and I ll blow off your face" is

Not as appropriate as a Welcome Mat.

Liquor and heavy machinery don t mix; leave the Stump till after the reception.

When a wedding is held in your Backyard you must tell the guests 3 things

Where the sink holes are......... Where you keep the dogs ................. Where Uncle Rufus is buried…

People’s names go on the place cards, Peter, Susan, John, or Mary; the

Place cards should not read, SIT HERE, you Lazy Bastard, you Heartbreaking Tramp...

Mr. Softie or Slut On Board.

Never ask your guests to Fondue something that is Still Alive

Showing your other daughter's honeymoon video is a no-no, even if it

Is the one where the Bellboy joins in.

So the vows were exchanged, something about never exchanging gun fire over bowling scores,

sharing the deer's heart equally, and the feast began. Speaking of which, I thought the

choices of reception entrees were chicken or fish, not something that was bled out that afternoon.

To fix that possible problem, Running Deer had brought a pocket full of loose change,

so that everyone could enjoy a full 6 course meal at the Trailer Park's Vending Machines.

Running Deer and I advised several guests ..

Listen friend; At the salad bar, if you bite a hunk of cheese and disapprove of it, that's fine,

But leave… it….. On Your Plate.

They have Tongs available for a reason.

When the waiter asks you to pick a crayfish, he means Point to it, not Dive In the tank

For it.

Leave your Pet Snake at home, watching him eat a Mouse doesn’t t enhance

Anyone’s appetite, least of all the Mouse's.

Your sleeve may work just fine, but use the Napkin.

Billy Bob was no help; once in a fancy restaurant, he threw coins in the Bidet

and made a wish. Jackass.

Suddenly a man drove up in an old banged up truck; Billy Bob explained this

was Jesse, um, well, just outta jail. Oh-Oh..........I went to him, smiled, told

him simply, "Jesse,you don t catch the garter, you don t try to catch the garter,

actually when they throw the garter, I want you under a table". Jesse was

scared, he d used expired coupons at the store and thought maybe that

violated his parole. He had food on his mouth, he said he had been hungry

in the store. We figured he d had a peanut or some grapes, turns out this

bastard ate a can of pork+beans. He also asked if Summers Eve was a

new salad dressing. Jesse was a problem. His hands were covered with

chilblains, and he explained that was cause he worked in the prison laundry;

hmmmmmmm why not wear gloves, I mean, there must have been some

very unidentifiable and downright disgusting shit on them prisoner's clothes.

Seems Jesse was boycotting gloves, since he d worn them during his

robbery and got caught anyways. But he was a new man, in the store,

some dude was in the express lane with 16 items, and the old Jess wudda

gagged the guy and tied him to the roof of the truck. Jess joined the

festivities.

The band played on; they were a combination of, I Think, rock, country,techno,

shmucko, disco, classical, metal, punk, they gave off the sound of tortured creatures in hell.

The group, The Wheatcracker Specials, played a tribute song to Jane,

titled "The Ballad of Boot Hill------billy" and then, amazingly played "Danny Boy"

for the groom via banjo, spoons, and knuckle cracks. Not exactly the Irish

Tenors, but hey!!!!!!

I was just glad the bridesmaids decided to make seperate trips to the dance floor;

since they actually buckled the patio during "Thriller". When they hit the pond in tandem

i was waiting for the tsunami warning siren to go off.

We were warned of gate-crashing lodge brothers; these were easily spotted

as they were the only ones kissing the bride open-mouthed while lifting up her gown.

Running Deer and I agreed on the food and gifts; first of all sparrows don t taste

just like chicken, secondly Don t register the bride with Critter Stuff;

we doubt a Bison tongue will serve any purpose in the Boudoir.

We were taken out back to see their summer place, and it was encouraging to see

that the rope up to the tree house was new and strong.

Suddenly the bride threw her bouquet, Jess yelled "pull" and skeet shot it;

we grabbed him and locked him in the root cellar.

Billy Bob was seeking out a condom machine, till we explained that it means more

if you actually have a date. Billy had noticed an unexpected guest, his niece/former fiancee,

Tulip, she was a Shooter's Girl, no not a Hooter's Girl, a Shooter's girl, and along with

ending global warming, fixing the econony , saving the insects, and looking good in postage stamp

sized bikini, she also had just been upgraded to the second shift at Dairy Queen. Quite the catch;

But................she was dating Pan, yes, Pan, lead singer of the Wheatcracker Specials.

As the booze had flowed, we got them apart and I was alone with Pan.

Pan's real name was Stumpy, he called himself Pan, not over the creature in Greek mythology,

but after the word pan--ache, which though he couldn t pronounce it, seemed, to him, to fit

his personality. OKKKKKKKKK Pan had so may piercings on his face it kinda resembled the birth of an

extension bridge; he picked up his shirt, more piercings and was about to drop his pants,

but I stopped him short, explaining some things, were better left to the imagination. Or nightmares.

He could see I was perplexed, I just told him, "forgive me, but I never woke up and decided that to

express my personal freedom I d go and have a railroad spike driven through my scrotum sac."

He told me the many merits, but i interrupted telling him, "that s all fine, ok, but my genitals are private property

as it were, no way i m sitting down while some balding guy with a long ponytail and a Che t shirt

has at my jewels armed with only a hole puncher, alcohol bottle and butterfly bandage.

Not f---g now, not f--g for eternity."

Pan had to go play the finale, an original composition that

seemed like a mixture of Gregorian Chant, Oriental melodies, forced work songs and cats

with their paws caught in something.

So I sat and relaxed.

As the sun set, the gathering was mostly drunk and/or asleep. Running Deer, as usual, had secured

some 16 phone numbers from various ladies, and Billy Bob, wonder of wonders, had talked 2 girls into

working on his internet site, "old geezers, young teasers", and also secured a date with Mabel Trueberry,

the only 40 year old great-grandmother in these parts. We gathered up everyone's car keys,

firearms, etc.,checked the perimeter, and set to exit.

Jesse, it seems, had smoked some of the roots growing in the cellar and emerged from it stark

naked except for a branch garland, calling himself Baby New Year for all years, screaming he wished

not to rob, but to share, to share his essence, his gifts, his seed, that last statement was the cue to

knock him out and head to the nearest E.R. Quite the experience in Jaxassville.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Thursday, August 7, 2008

A TRIP TO THE VETS

A TRIP TO THE VETS"

(accompanied by my friend Running Deer Alvarez and also the revolting Billy Bob Von Lum)

Marie was upset because Thunder the collie was acting listless and fatigued. Nana said he was constipated from lack of olive oil in his diet.

I figured maybe he just was worn out from killing and eating things, but well, ok, i would take him to the vet. I was playing stickball with the guys; first Billy Bob hit Running Deer in the head with 4 straight pitches, then when he was batting, Billy Bob swung, let go of the bat and hit me in the kneecap, then finally Running Deer hit the tennis ball like a rocket into Billy Bob's mouth,the fuzz from the tennis ball actually coated his teeth, making them more appealing.When we play sports the inept, out of control Billy Bob always hurts either myself or Running Deer, so this time we called a halt to the festivities.

Billy Bob said he had a relative who was a vet;,loaded, um caged in, the hound from Hades, um, Thunder in the animal control van, and set to leave . Nana came out with Puss N Boots, her ancient cat; said he needed a checkup, what he really needed was to find the fountain of youth or 27 more cat lives or maybe a witch with working spells. Nana insisted, actually she coughed, sneezed, sniffed,wretched, and we took the wizened Puss N Bootswith us. Truth is, there are only 3 creatures Thunder would not harm; my wife Marie, Puss N Boots, and Nana (although that s not a definite).

Once as Nana was stirring puree+listening to one of her frigging talking books, Thunder grabbed the wig right off her head and ate it,leaving her in curlers, oblivious as she listened to Norseman sacking a village. That made for an interesting pooper scooper adventure.

So off we went, and I started to worry when we took a dirt road way off the main drag. We came to a clearing, sort of a clearing, fallen trees, moss, small pools of putrid liquids, broken fences, cracked or murdered garden gnomes(some hung, decapitated, burned, covered with honey+ants), and a small stand of creatures in jars or frozen in state;

Welcome to Boggy Creek I thought.

Running Deer got out, looked about, checked his shoes, and a bald really ugly dude came out of the bushes,with a slingshot saying, "we were on private property". The guy's smell permeated the entire area, I was actually wishing PussNBoots would take a dump and refresh the air. Running Deer said if this is the vet let's just shoot Thunder ourselves.

No, according to Billy Bob this was the vet's half sister's son, Rufus; a lad who unfortunately had never advanced out of the tadpole stage.Rufus showed his kills; a chipmunk, a squirrel, a hamster, a sparrow, a cricket, a frigging preying mantis. A man in a white coat came out of A shack, and said he was Dr. Oglethorpe. Rufus kept faking at us with the slingshot, Oglethorpe welcomed us, called Billy Bob cuz, and apologized for Rufus' antics, explaining he hadn t cooked long enough in the womb and that the evolution train had passed him by.. He was a breech birth, they hadda use rope to pull him out.

Rufus laid in the dirt, the doc approached the van, and Thunder went nuts. The whole van shook. When Thunder flecked his muscles the vet didn t have a needle to penetrate him. Hmmmm. Believe it or not, Puss N Boots made an attempt at purring and the strange sound he emitted actually calmed Thunder down, he relaxed, took the sedative, and tried to escape and kill Rufus. While we waited for the drug to work, we went into the shack.. Simply one big room, with a big table, computer, and Dr. Oglethorpe said he could provide creamation for my cat, until i explained Puss N Boots was still alive; then he mistook Puss N Boots for a mechanical cat, checked for batteries, till Running Deer grabbed my cat and put him in his coat, explaining, "let s leave him alone and worry about the collie ok? "

Running Deer ask the doc where he studied, and he answered Upper Mesa Mexico College. Billy Bob interrupted and said it didn t matter though cause his cuz was awarded his degree online. We were about to exit when we heard insane loud yelping, barking, and the doc said he had "12 bitches in heat in the back kennels".

Rufus who had entered, grinned the grin of the damn, drooled and said "I like bitches in heat", till Oglethorpe told him,

"dogs, we are talking about dogs Rufus."

Running Deer and I agreed, this Rufus guy probably had genetic material that included webbed feet and fur, and we re thinking, this dude, "forgetbout it", they shoulda never tied off his bellybutton.

AND IT GOT WORSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oglethorpe sent me out with some gravy boat looking thing to get a urine sample from Thunder.

He wanted a full panel.

Rufus asked if he could have a full panel as his wee wee felt tickly and sensitive..

Running Deer told him to dunk it into a fondue pot and it would relieve those symptoms.....

I went alone.

Thunder was uncooperative; he circled till I got dizzy, he pissed on my leg, on the ground, i kept trying to place the bowl under him, kick it to the side, push it left, right, make it a target, but he missed always. A poor turtle came over, popped out his head, and received a golder shower, thing is probably 100 years old and gets whizzed on. Tragic.

When I had a small amount, I returned inside and into a conversation between Billy Bob and Oglethorpe. it seemed Rufus was named after his daddy, but his daddy's name was really Sparky and unfortunately he' d been simply borrowing Rufus Sr's overalls when he did the deed; in the back of a rental truck. Young Rufus still had post tramatic flashbacks whenever he heard grinding gears.

Sparky, Rufus' s real dad fathered 12kids. Wow that dude was so virile he could fertilize a plastic egg. Why stop at 12?

Oglethorpe explained Rufus was 12th, and as he was no prize, everybody figured the next one might pop out with feelers or gills or a blowhole, so, end it. Rufus had a job retrieving balls at the driving range, i figured he drove in a little armored car, or at least wore protection, but Billy Bob, ever the realist asked, "Where on him could they do any more damage?" . He told how after taking a golf ball to the earhole, Rufus could sing Prince's Greatest hits and recite the Gettysburg Address. Maybe, just maybe if he took one in the temple, he could name the next day's winning lottery numbers.

I shook my head and showed the doc my meager catch; he explained, he needed more, and that I needed to help Thunder, I needed to position his member for him; I said "hey doc, he s my dog, I like him, but I ain't doing that, you can feel free to steer it, aim it, frigging crank it for all I care, but I ain't". He offered me rubber gloves. I told him "you ve probably done this before, I don t care if you wear gloves, long press on nails, a catcher's mitt, or a frigging hawk glove, have at it, cause I like thunder but I ain t grabbing him by his Old Man. Capisce! Get it?". The doc was explaining how he went online seeking medical answers, till Running Deer said "that site is lesbians in bondage!!". Oglethorpe responded. "and they don t deserve the finest in medical help? You got your rope burns, chain marks, whip bruises, assorted things being tugged and twisted; Running Deer and I walked away, digusted with the freak,

Billy Bob of course looked and said his new photography series "old geezers, young teasers" could fit in perfectly there.

The doc went into the bathroom and screamed at the top of his lungs "this floor is soaking wet, soaking,Rufus, Rufus, Ru-Fus I ve told you to close the lid after you take a drink. Now I was ready to exit, but Running Deer asked,

why must the lid be down, to which Oglethorpe explained, "well,I prefer to remain seated during all bathroom visits."

Now we both ran. Right into a smirking Rufus; he held a picture, i knew the picture, I checked my wallet, it was gone, he showed it to me, he said "Pretty lady", as he held Marie's Picture; I went for him. Oglethorpe tried to stop me, Running Deer told him gently, "when the scarf s wife is involved, you have 2 options, get out of the way, or get to a phone and make sure your burial plot is ready. Rufus dropped the wallet, said to me,I'll hurt you", then i kicked his legs out, he fell on the floor, i grab my valuables, took the gun out of my pants and put it in his mouth.

Time stood still..

I told him, the next sound you hear will be your bowels as they seize, loosen and evacuate. From the side came an unearthly bodily sound that had it occurred in the lake would have cause a fishkill of historic proportions. Amazingly, it came out of Billy Bob, who said he was very stressed out, was in shock, and plus had eaten an entire tin of Pringles Cajun Chips. As Rufus ran off, I showed Billy the water gun; i only brought it to wake up Puss n boots or calm down Thunder. Although water, actually any form of hygiene would probably upset Rufus, who smelled like a concoction of rotted teeth, rotten eggs, a slaughter house, and certain types of hair dye.

More intense noise, Oglethorpe yelled, "it s rufus, he s released the hounds". The hordes of dogs raced thru the building, outside and into the van..Where for the next 3 hours, amidst great shaking and rattling, Thunder serviced all of them. Oglethorpe asked me if Thunder had eaten pork and i had to confess he ate a whole pig; the pig got out, wandered by the dog house, all i found was a hoof, a piece of snout, and some tail. Oglethorpe forbade Thunder to ever eat pork again, gave me some pills, and charged me $1300.

That included expert analysis, the pork discovery, and Thunder's female companionship.

Plus Oglethorpe doesnt drive so he needed a new mountain bike and radio flyer wagon to pull Rufus in. So all was settled. I grabbed Puss N Boots out of a Rufus Jar (where the cat napped next to a long dead frog), watched Thunder fall over into a fatigue sleep, and we set to leave. Billy Bob was on the phone; he told me "I was in trouble for pulling the gun on Rufus and he had his uncle, the politician or judge, on thphone". The trust I have in politicians and judges is the same trust I have in letting a baboon pilot a blimp, so I was antsy.

I, the Scarf cannot draw attention to myself, or get arrested, etc. but Billy Bob, rat that he is, had asolution; I had to be his deputy on hard jobs, follow his orders, and I would be paid cash. Shit..............Running Deerand I seriously considered putting him and his entire clan in the Rufus jars, but, cooler heads prevailed.

I said okay only if Running Deer could be one also; Billy Bob agreed, so we were sworn in over the phone,and our badges would be arriving shortly.

We started the van, suddenly Rufus came out of the bushes and was slingshoting at us, till he fell into a sinkhole;Oglethorpe arrived, looked down into the hole, said, "This is kinda like Rufus' Timeout period, he 's fine, sorta likehe's back in the womb". I told Running Deer to floor the van, but Oglethorpe exclaimed, "I got an new DVD, "Strip Van Winkle", yum yum, nude bowling, nude sleeping, nude everything, very intense." Billy Bob hoppedfrom the van, told us to leave and yelled to Oglethorpe, "and as a backup we can re-visit the always popular"Vulva Vixens from Venus". Running Deer and I exited the frigging menagerie just as Rufus, the de-evolving hatchling exploded forth from the hole and off to Movie Night with Billy Bob+Familia. Chow freakos.

A SONG-"BUTT CRACKS ON PARADE"

It seems no matter what store I enter, someone is crouching down, and their butt crack is peeking out, greeting me, what the heck is that!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Without even trying, I ve seen more butt cracks and thongs than a lingerie photographer.

So I've composed an ode to this new form of communication ("greetings"),

identification ("oh there's Sally in frozen foods"),

and information ("that's a size 8 encased in a size 2").......

"BUTT CRACKS ON PARADE" (SUNG TO THE TUNE OF "UNFORGETTABLE")

Butt cracks on parade

they bend and sway,

all colors, shape, and size

they fill your day

Just go into any sto---------re

you ll view one butt crack, than three more

all ages you see,

nineteen to fifty-threeeeeee

Some are very sweet,

some seem forlorn.

some of them sprout stuff

you shuck off corn

why is there so much

hair

there------

get a waxing, use some nair

if your rump it must be

bare

in the aisle

OH

Butt cracks on parade

unleashed by low hanging pants

i try not to stare,

as they take their stance

I m here to seek out

a canned ham

a jar of jam

a tasty leg of lamb

not an ass about TO burst from it's dam

Why I am nicknamed THE SCARF

THE BLACK SCARF"

This is an allegory, um, or an anecdote, or perhaps I ll name it something else as I get further into the dictionary. My brother in law Leo, stupid bastard that he is, would probably call it an antidote, but it s simply a true story of survival.

I wear a Black Scarf, all the time, winter and summer, night and day, rain or shine;

It is my good luck charm. One time I was in our bathroom, not a calm place, as you got the cat trying to poop in the sink or the laundry hamper, anyplace but his litter box, you got my wife Marie bleaching the entire area, and you got NANA’ s personal stuff everywhere, all sorts of remedies and ointments, one time I actually washed my Hair with hemorrhoid cream (my hair came out thinner but with a nice sheen to it).

So I m trying to rush thru taking a leak, Marie is yelling she gotta go, the cat is puking in the tub, nana’s got the volume up on her latest talking book (forcing me to wonder if Pirates have invaded my landlocked domain), and in the confusion, I flush and my Scarf gets pulled into the toilet. I felt the gnarled fingers of death encircle me; but when pulled, the Scarf came out, it gave it up, it saved my life.

Maria came in and did her business, Nana enjoyed her adventures on the high seas, and I had survived, because of A Scarf.

I was also wearing the Black Scarf when the De Vito brothers, Vito and Guido, tried to whack me. We were never friendly; I mean come on Vito De Vito? Didn’t’ his parents have any imagination, didn’t’ they have one of those name books? Is my name Gamberony Gamberony?

Use your brain, read a book or something. And then they top that with Guido. What the De Vito brothers usually did was come up to your car, pop you in the driver’s window, you lurch forward, and the horn blares for like an hour or until somebody realizes that the annoying car alarm is your head imbedded in the wheel. This day, they were pushing a cart with Italian hot dogs, chestnuts, stromboli, pretzels, (if the hit was a Summer hit, they pushed a snow cone cart, a Spring hit, they pushed clothing hand trucks, they had their own Unique Style)

anyway, my Scarf was hanging out of my car door and they stepped on it, I realized what was up, so I simply drove over them and their cart; I escaped, they visited the nearest vet (HMO’S are not part of their equation), and the neighborhood homeless ate quite well for weeks.

The Scarf And I Are Blood. I Wear It Always

The Rain Forest and Africa

Let me take you back; so Witness Protection wants to keep me safe, so bam boom, they send me to the Rain Forest; I wudda picked Club Med

or a cruise, but hey i can t be choosey. I'm wearing J.Crew pants, Starter shirts, sneakers, and my new rain forest friends are running around wearing

nothing but slingshots. And it looked kinda tight; I wanted to ask the guys, "Um are you trying to support your gill-yones or press wine from them?"

Man it hurt me just to look, for---get about it!!!!!!! I met this girl, she has a bamboo shoot stuck clean through her nose, she told me it was for adornment,

ah, I thought to myself, you know maybe a Scarf or a hairbow, leave the probiscus in tack. I m no one to talk my nose is so big every time I inhale

i lower the pollen count, but goodness that looks nasty. Some guys come, their 2 front teeth are missing, they told me it s to show they belong,

ah, again, the light bulb goes off and I think, maybe you coulda got jackets, you know nice lettering, "4th Tribe DownRiver" something like that,

save the old choppers. They have one phrase in the rain forest: ""POOF POOF", the blowgun. It can mean something simple like "I m sick of the rain",

something serious like "hey dummy you just shot my pet monkey" or something very direct as in, "hey, you old hag, you spit 4 times into that pot to tenderize,

how tender you gonna make it, I gotta eat that crap". Fun time; they bring in a wild boar, I m busy looking for a slice of pizza or a cheese steak.

I told them pork don t agree with me, some they fried me some fish that look like it came from prehistoric times, heck I wanted to check the expiration date.

But if I didn t eat it, they woulda validated my expiration date ticket. Wasn t there too long, long enough to see mosquitos the size of model airplanes

and spiders that could carry off entire dining room sets; the tribe asked me if I wanted to show my manhood by walking through Flames.

Ahhhhhhh thank you no, don t see any first aid kits or that silver burn stuff or pain killers, and besides, I m all man.

To prove my point, I took out my Magnum and shot 3 scorpions; who knew theyd be dessert? My treat Rain forest people

and n--------------ow, I m off to Africa

 

So I told you they sent me to Africa; I remember I de-planed then try to get back on

De Plane, cause I saw the huge, barren landscape, felt the heat singe my beard

(thank goodness for my olive complexion), and was sure that the humidity had

rotted my toes and disintegrated my underwear. I thought I had happened upon the

filming of "Lost World 4", but no, people waved me over, got me into a vehicle

(complete with bullet holes and shrapnel marks), and off we went into what they

termed, The Bush. Ah yes, let us wander deeply into "THE BUSH; me, who can t

stand to use public toilets, gets moderately carsick, and likes Room Service.

Hi-Ho off we go. I had to leave my Magnum at the airport, and as the smelly tree

hanging on the mirror failed miserably, I had images of a leopard dragging

a miserable me into; The Bush. Suddenly gunfire erupted; I thought I was at

the BETawards show and rival rappers had engaged each other, no, turns out it was

poachers and government troops involved in a misunderstanding about some

tusks. We paid some people off, they agreed to leave us alone, I met a witch doctor,

I talked to him for a bit, guy did good, took home 3 sheep, 6 chickens a week. Net.

He gave me a magical charm, I, in turn, bestowed on him, a CD of Jerry Vale’s

Greatest Hits and a free admission to the grandstand if he ever visits Belmont Park.

He seemed impressed. So we drove off and for the next hours saw many wild

beasts, some carcasses, some unidentifiable festering material, huge colonies of

insects, animal droppings over every size, shape, color, needless to say, I was

able to leave lunch still "a little hungry". Can you say Agita? We were out

stretching our legs, when it happened. A large group of baboons suddenly encircled

us; they showed their teeth, they growled, this was not good, as all the rifles were in

the land rover. I thought a rhino might horn me or a hippo bowl me over even

an elephant trunk me, but this? I was mad not scared. My guide said not to look

them in the eyes, which was tough since they were in my space, in my face, like

them things in the movie Aliens, salivating, howling. It was tense. The bigger ones

backed off a bit, figuring they d dissed us enough, but a smaller one kept up the act.

I m no tough guy, but I realize, if you take out the ringleader, the others domino out.

The smaller one screeched, turned his back to me, and showed me his butt; I paused,

measured the distance, took my field goal kicker’s stance, timed it, and buried my

sneaker up to the heel in that baboon’s rear end. He howled, the others ran off, he

followed them, and dragged me along for 300 yards, till finally my foot came loose and

my sneaker disappeared into "The Bush". It was like an amusement park ride.

Now I’m standing in the jungle with one socked foot, that would never do, I saw

"The Lion King" I know what s on the ground; things with pinchers, long tongues,

poisons, and on and on ad nauseum. So I hopped around, till the guide got me

a cane, and then I resembled either the spirit of "76" or Jack Hawkins in "The

Bridge on the River Kwai". We relaxed in the safety of our vehicle and actually

nodded off. When we awoke, a horde of Zulu warriors came by, carrying

a baboon, THE BABOON, gently on a stick; they explained that they practiced the

mystical African religion Uli Kebassi Vendu and that Uli, the earth spirit, was about

to be reborn. Hmmmmmm. To me, just me, he coulda made a much more

dramatic entrance, and the delivery system might been a bit more subtle. I

was also amazed that if it was indeed Uli, he wore Reeboks. The warriors were

quite excited, and a I looked at them, something told me these dudes had

probably placed no worse than second in the spear throw competition. So I

shut my mouth. And hid my other foot.

I AM CALLED THE SCARF

No pictures, i m Incognito; Marc Anthony Gamberony at your service, here in the Wild West, where I am Pissed Off In Witness Protection.

It 's for my own safety, but man, I can i even get a little vino or a taste of marinara sauce Forg-----et A----bout it!!!!!!!!!!

I told my mother, "either you cook Italian or Western, the Bar-B-Qued Brajole ain't cutting it."

My mother is off checking out the Back 40, in her black dress.

I'm trying to break this big horse, but I don t know, nothing works, I tried bribing him with an anisette cookie, no dice.

 

My wife misses the old neighborhood, great, we go back there,

I’d miss breathing. It was all I could do to escape;

I dressed as a Hari Krishna, shaved my head, it was terrible, people gawking at me,

tossing me freaking quarters, hey you wanna contribution aim a Fiver my way ok?

The robe was terrible, it made me too airy, know what I mean, every gust

of wind gimme a chill not a thrill, plus my shorts ran up and I chafed like I been

dragged along Mount Rushmore. Ah well, I was a mob guy, I knew the score;

it was either talk or do 20 years in an orange jumpsuit, FOR---GET A BOUT IT,

easy choice. All s I need, standing outside the shower watching some 300 pound

inmate named Rufus play let s hide the knotted soap on a rope. OH

yeah that s a Kodak moment in my life. Some I got sent numerous places (I ll

tell about them later, The Freakin Rain ForEst etc), but now I’m here,

the law has managed to turn NICKIE NEWARK into THE HORSE WHISPERER.

The corral, is that what you call it, is a mess, all these animals doing their duty,

I stepped in something the size of a toaster over. And these boots are

genuine, expensive, get it? I try to be nice to them, I gave the goat my

empty beer can and he just left it; what I didn t take the label off? I’m

feeding a goat, not recycling.

 

My wife Marie and my mother "Nana", came West with me; am I tortured or what? Nana's got a cat who's like 32 years old,

she calls him Puss N Boots, I think he oughta be called Dead And Buried. He s got one and a half teeth, broken claws, tiny tuffs of fur,

no whiskers, and a tail that s constantly in the question mark position. His litter box is akin to some futuristic hell spawn of toxicity;

although he s so old, he don t even know if he s in the box ornot. I could put him anywhere+ he'd unload; on the stereo, on the placemats,

I could run him through the blender and he d poop. Never mind him worrying a mouse, he d amuse a mouse, heck he couldn t tell a mouse

from a grizzly bear. I get him catnip, he smells it and throws up, I get him a cat toy, he forgets and pees on it, I get him a scratching post,

he falls off of it like a sky diver. Basta!!!! Basta!!!!!!!

WHO I AM-MARC ANTHONY GAMBERONY

Exiled to the vast Wild West, former mob sports guy, Marc Anthony Gamberony is a fish outta water; he has a new Native American best friend, a hillbilly enemy (Billy Bob Von Lum), and although he loves his wife  and puts up with his old mother, he still suffers from O/C,impotency, and absurd situations.

They have a Lassie wanabee who eats anything near his dog house,

a 40 year old cat that seems more dead than alive,

and are visited by Old Uncle Bag (complete with his paid female escorts, numerous ailments, and 45 caliber weapons).

All Gamberony wants is a little peace, a little city life, a little ziti, a little vino, a little peace. The bar-b-q brajole ain t cutting it.

It is completed yet ongoing, it fits neatly into Any/All Mediums, it is registered, it is over 100 segments..

Company Logo: "Pissed Off In Witness Protection"