The Funnest Products Are The Ones That Go Up Your Ass

I want products NOW. I want a product in EACH of my hands. No, two products. In each hand. I want a product NOW that makes my hair SHINY and my breath DELICIOUS. I want a fucking product that makes my elbows feel well-lubricated and that makes my SOCKS clean. Man, what I'd do with a fine product like that. Fella could do worse than to have a product like that, my friends; one that would ensure both personal cleanliness and a feeling of freshness and health.


I want a fucking rectal bleaching kit that I can use to clean my fucking spark plugs. Not only will I have one of the more unusually attractive and well-kempt assholes this side of Bangkok, My car will run smoother than pate through a polesmokin' goose. And won't THAT be th' cat's meow? Yesirree it will. I want a fucking PRODUCT that I can apply at night and when I wake up in the morning I'll be FREE of the SHAME. I want to PEEL the SHAME off me like it was dead skin and I was just givin' myself a little loofa-ing with th' ShameMaster 5000. I hope I can find something to PEEL it off because it burns like fire, man. It burns like holy water.

I want a distilled essence of what it feels like to be hopeful that you put in one of those vaporizers and you turn it on full-blast to counteract the cynicism and bitterness that keeps people from wanting to talk to me. You could put it in your house and if you put enough of th' distilled essence of Hope in th' vaperizopr you could maybe minimize the impact of your rage and disappointment on th' children and pets.

There's this other thing that I want but I can't remember. All day with all the wanting it's hard to remember what's what and you have to remind yourself no, that's what Lennie in Cost Analysis wanted. He's th' one who wanted the rectal bleach and Floris from down th' street was th' one that wanted the ShameMaster. That's not what I wanted. What I wanted was...and the you can't remember and that's when they throw your unamerican terrorist fucking ass in gitmo and shove th' key into the center of the polesmoking earth.

I want a large green trampoline that I can go up on the roof and empty all my tears into it. I want two burnished, sequined cocoanut halves that I can clap over my ears when th' talk turns to batik. I want a huge bubbling bong that I can load with my infinite contrition and smoke at until it comes out my ears and then I spill it on th' rug. And I want a sunken room. A sunken room done in tinfoil and Nazareth posters were I can flail away at myself during Ramadan.

I want a jointed tennis racket that I can take to myself as I walk down Pleasant St. with my shirt over my head. I want a peacoat. I want a toaster oven DVD player alarm clock pocket pussy and organizer all 'n' one. But it has to be small enough to SHOVE UP MY ASS. Every product must GO UP MY ASS. What is the use of a product that can't GO UP YOUR ASS? I ask you? Everybody that's fuckin' ANY BODY knows that The Funnest Products Are The Ones That Go Up Your Ass.


Blogger Bobby Lightfoot said...

"When the talk turns to batik".

Um, am I th' only one who comments on their own blig?

Guys should do it. It's cathartic.

12:54 AM  
Blogger fgfdsg said...

I don't need a product - my own blog frequently goes up my own arse.

You're commenting about commenting on your own blog? How metahumoric!

1:59 AM  
Blogger mdhatter said...

Any product that can go up your ass will ~certainly~ break the ice at parties, especially naughty parties.


2:11 AM  
Blogger roxtar said...

You may be onto something here:

Bobby Lightfoot's Suppositorium! Not only is the customer always right, but he can also shove it up his ass!

I would also point out that cell phones are shrinking in size to the point where they can (almost) easily be inserted in the ol' anal orifice. I predicted this trend back in the 80's, when I told a guy to take his portable phone (with external battery pack and shoulder strap) and shove it up his ass. Modern technology has finally caught up to my vision.

8:07 AM  
Blogger Employee of the Month said...

I think the current record is six of those brain-liquifying blowngoose earpieces up the chute.

ohvblhev - what Jerry Lewis says to the above

11:36 AM  
Blogger Bobby Lightfoot said...


Each funnier than th' next!

"Metahumoric"! Rectal shovings as conversation starters!

"Modern technology has finally caught up to my vision." Ha ha ha ha.

"Blowngoose earpieces"! Hyeahhh.

Fuckit, you guys are doing my blog from now on. I'm off to Mali. For some clubbing.

12:25 PM  
Blogger teh l4m3 said...

roxtar: Ahem.

ev'reebawdah: I want a can of RAID Fascist Killer, just so I could see if it works on modern Republicans. But of course, Wal-Mart doesn't carry it. Fuckers.

3:55 PM  
Blogger Kevin Wolf said...

I want, I want, I want. Not anything in particular, though. The wanting is an end in itself. And up the ol' end it shall go.

9:34 AM  

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