I've Seen It In Dreams.

Was it the delivery? Was it just funny to me?

Is th' link dead? Too much of a hassle?

Were the words illegible?

Was it a in-joke that only Roxtar and I got?

Should I have stopped in th' middle and just done my version of Th' Aristocrats? Which I must say kills.

Am I stupit?

Are YOU stupit?

Did I say that!

Fuckin' A!. Don't you realize that th' guy says, "Bring the old family bucket of bolts in for a trade! Fuck, bring the family in! A healthy, good-lookin' kid'll get ya down the road on the way to a Navigator or Town Car!"

Fuckin guy says, "If we don't have the car you're looking for I will drop a Dramamine and smoke your pole right there on the showroom floor!"

A DRAMAMINE, PEOPLE.

o.k., o.k.. Fuckg.

Guy walks into the office of a talent agent.

My friend John who I've been on th' outs with started taking issue with my sense of humor a couple of years ago and it was totally fucked. I was telling his wife this funny, innocent little pedophile joke and he blew th' punchline with some not in front of the ladies shit which turned me off no end. And screwed the joke up, more importantly. Jesus. I mean, come on. Allie knows I'm an asshole, right? The saving grace is that I'm a funny asshole.

Yeah, I know, I know. But here's what you have to realize: this is the guy who, two weeks earlier, had been videoing his cat's asshole and emailing it about. This is the guy who took a photo of his work crew and intricately cut and pasted so you could pull a little tab and his boss would bob his head up and down on John's priapic protruberance. I mean, brilliant shit, right? In my book.

O.K. I'm going to tell it. Because I think he should be proud of this.

See, John came up with The Grossest Thing In The World in 1988. I mean, the guy fucking won HANDS-DOWN. This was a grail for which we'd searched years and John dropped it efffortlessly on that fateful summer night driving back from a gig in Boston. Where was it? Probably that goddamn Rat. On Kenmore.

So, we're driving back at 3 AM and he says it.

The problem with fucking infants is you always blow your load before you crack spine.

Right? Grossest Thing Ever. And now he minces and nancies at the slightest mention of th' off-color. I'm still confused.

The way I see it, our whole friendship was based on hideous, repulsive humor and I think that maybe when he found It that night we were over because the point of it was gone. We were like a married couple and they find out th' guys shooting blanks. There was no point anymore.

Or maybe John just got too close to the fire that night and got burned. That shit'll change you, man. When you come face to face with it. It's like seeing the whole universe in th' wink of an eye and that can burn you, man.

I've seen it in dreams.