Monday, December 31, 2007

New Year's Eve Edits

The deleted scenes from this week's Quick column.

  • "December is a slow news month" was replaced with "the bottom portion of page 18 in the recent issue of D Magazine."
  • Recent lull in interweb log posts due to "long hours of charity work at local children's hospitals" was originally and more factually attributed to "days upon days spent playing Cello Hero III: Masters of Chamber Music."
  • All references to Jaleel White were removed.
  • The lyrics to "Auld Lang Syne" were replaced with those of Digital Underground's "The Humpty Dance."
  • "Humorless, self-important dick whittler" was changed to "Gary Cogill."

Popping A Cap In The New Year

Dear Dallas Residents Who Insist on Discharging Small Arms Into the Air to Celebrate the Induction of the New Year,

Greetings and a good New Year to you, fellow citizens. I know that you are excited to usher in the New Year with a fantastic exclamation of rebirth and renewal. Most of us will do this by popping a champagne cork or two, exchanging a romantic midnight kiss, or partaking in an indiscernible inebriated chorus of “Auld Lang Syne” with a group of dear friends. You, on the other hand, choose to mark the occasion by firing a handgun or low caliber rifle into the night air, despite being enclosed within the crowded urban environment of a major metropolitan cityscape.

Kudos to you, reckless caveperson. Your asinine display of Wild West enthusiasm has the potential to harm, maim, or even kill an individual with whom you have no personal ties. I salute your inventiveness despite your underdeveloped brainpower and tragically warped chromosomes.

While I am sure that this activity is exhilarating for you, might I suggest some alternatives that will not adversely affect the well being of innocent individuals while still providing the thrilling element of danger required of your subhuman intellect.

  • Swallow a live road flare.
  • Wear a hornet’s nest like a turban.
  • Place a lit M-80 firework into a slingshot. Set up a trampoline so that it sits on its side and directly faces you. Aim slingshot at trampoline and release M-80.
  • Heave an enormous boulder over your head and then let go of it.
  • Apply soldering iron to nipples. Repeat.
  • Soak dental floss in hot sauce overnight. Insert dental floss into left nostril. Remove through right nostril. Punch yourself in the face for good measure.
  • Eat a dozen pinecones.
  • Stomp on the tail of a wild puma.
  • Give yourself a “Prince Albert” with a Bedazzler.
  • Steer your pickup truck towards the end of a very high cliff. Drive off of it.

Happy New Year!

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther

Monday, December 24, 2007

Christmas Eve's Edits

The deleted scenes from this week's Quick column.

  • "Santa Claus" was changed to "Jesus Christ."
  • "Frosty the Snowman" was changed to "Jesus the Snowman."
  • "A Very Brady Christmas" was changed to "A Very Brady Jesus."
  • "Good King Wenceslas" was changed to "Good King Jesus."
  • "A Charlie Brown Christmas" was changed to "Jesus Christ, It's Christmas."
  • "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" was changed to "Jesus the Newborn Christ Child."
  • "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" was changed to "How Jesus Got His Groove Back."
  • "Jesus" was changed to "Jesus Jesus."

Thursday, December 20, 2007

On The Seventh Day He Wiped Off His Chin

Dear Institute for Creation Research,

Good day and God bless. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther, best selling author, yacht racer, hot air balloon enthusiast, substitute Sunday school teacher, and true believer in the proven science of creationism.

Congratulations on the recent approval of your request to teach creationism to science teachers. For far too long, educational systems have been constrained by bureaucratic pandering and political correctness that confine scientific teachings to a prospectus that has been thoroughly and scientifically confirmed or, at the very least, clearly defined as practically accepted theorem. I applaud the efforts of your organization as it seeks to pervert developing young minds with unverifiable beliefs rooted in religious faith masquerading as true science.

Might I suggest that you consider extending your curriculum to include other teachings based on works of imaginative literature and pass those off as scientific fact, as well? If the improvable assumption that our physical universe “was supernaturally created by a transcendent personal Creator who alone has existed from eternity” can become inarguable science simply because it is stated as such in the Bible, then why can’t it also be factually stated that without a shadow of a doubt “there once was a man from Nantucket whose dick was so long he could suck it,” as illustrated in the dirty limerick of the same name? In this scenario, it is avowed as actuality that his reproductive organ is of such self-suckable length. The only capricious element is the possibility that he could have intercourse with his ear if it were a vagina.

Yours in Christ,
Alibaster Abthernabther

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Let's All Go To The Movies!

Dear Dallas-Fort Worth Film Critics Association,

Yearend greetings to you, good sirs and madams. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther. I am a best selling author, yacht racer, hot air balloon enthusiast, ascot designer, and devout cinema buff.

I am writing to your organization with regard to your recent list of the best films of 2007. Please excuse the frankness of my query. However, after reviewing your selections I would be remiss if I did not ask, “Are your minds stifled by irreparable retardation and drastic developmental erosion?”

No Country for Old Men? More like, No Country for Stupid Dummies with Dumb Faces.

The Kite Runner? I think you mean, Too Lazy to Buy the Book at Starbucks? Here’s the Movie.

There Will Be Blood? How about, There Will Need to be Some Sort of Explanation Since This Movie Hasn’t Even Been Released Yet?

I have to say, I was quite disappointed with your collection of paramount motion pictures. And of course, when I say “paramount” I am not referring to the film studio of the same name, but am using the word as an adjective meaning “supreme in rank, power, or authority.” But I digress.

As a service to your woefully misrepresentative organization I have included my personal picks for the year’s best films. I suggest you review them carefully and make the necessary adjustments to your inferior list accordingly.

Norbit
Eddie Murphy illustrates his expert range as a master thespian in his portrayal of the titular character, a hapless awkward orphan. It’s an enchanting and timeless tale of nerds, the morbidly obese, and bawdy ethnic insensitivity. Enchanting!

Me Having a Sexual Encounter with an Unconscious Hobo
Sometimes I film myself having sex. Sometimes I have sex with destitute street people. Sometimes I combine these two leisure pursuits. Often this results in movie magic.

Norbit
Eddie Murphy shows that he can efficiently offend fat people, black people, women, and fat black women with his stunning performance of Norbit’s femme fetale fatty, Rasputia. A bonus point for utilizing the hit Pussycat Girls song “Don’t Cha” not once, not twice, but three times in the course of the film’s running time. Delightful!

2 Girls, 1 Cup
Clearly, one of the year’s best. This is the romantic story of two young women's shared affection for an excrement receptacle. Guaranteed to become a heartwarming classic for generations to come.

Norbit
Eddie Murphy proves there is no racial stereotype he cannot effectively portray as Chinese restaurateur, Mr. Wong. Wonderous!


Thank you,
Alibaster Abthernabther

* UPDATE : 12/19/07 *

WFAA's Gary Cogill responds:

It's so refreshing to see your mean cynical email first thing in the morning. Thank you for being so mean to people you have never met.

Monday, December 17, 2007

This Week's Edits

The deleted scenes from this week's Quick column.

  • The term “laundry bin sex” was replaced with “hamper action.”
  • “Indian burn” was changed to “Native American abrasion.”
  • The phrase “interpersonal proximity anxiety“ was replaced with “Christmas shopping at NorthPark.”
  • All references to It's a Living were removed.
  • “Sloppy rainbow kiss” was changed to “casual handshake.”
  • “Lactating octet” was replaced with “eight maids a-milking.”
  • “Speed boat-sized penis” was changed to “rhino wang.”

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Jumping the Shark

Dear Cycle Stuff USA,

Greetings. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther. I am writing to request construction of a custom racing suit.

The suit will need to be a one-piece jumper that is water resistant, fire retardant, flexible, and fashionable yet functional. Also, it will need ample pockets to accommodate my car keys, billfold, cellular telephone, monocle case, hip flasks, ankle flasks, and elbow flasks.

My season color analyst has determined that I am a summer, which you may know is the most delicate of the four color seasons. My racing suit would need to adhere to this tint scheme, perhaps using swaths of powder blue with dusty pink accents.

This will need to be a rush order, as I will require the racing suit for Christmas day. Also, I will need a matching multi-impact helmet emblazoned with a TCB lightening bolt.

Please let me know if this request can be met in the allotted time and I will have my tailor provide you with my specific measurements.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther

***

Dear Sewell Hummer of Dallas,

Hello. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther. I am writing to request the construction of a custom Hummer H2 to be modified for a particular purpose.

The vehicle will need a 6.0L engine with a polished intercooled Vortech supercharger, triple quantum fever posts, Beru spark plugs, rescinded aluminum gap traps, Nology wires, and Gibson headers and exhaust. I will need the stock hardware removed and replaced with a 14-inch bulletproof suspension kit, dual 2.0 shocks with chrome-plated reservoirs, and solid gold billet clamps. Please install brand new Centerco 49” tires onto 17x14-inch Volcano Crusher wheels and bolt them with diamond tipped tugger stacks. The braking system will need to include Guttenberg reversible slot rotors, armored stutter pints, and Shrieking Eagle brake pads.

I would like the interior to be upholstered with baby ostrich leather and the seats filled with goose down. The exterior paneling will need to be reinforced to withstand extreme heat and rocket impacts. I will also need seventeen firing canisters capable of holding and releasing timed mortar charges mounted to each side of the vehicle.

Also, the vehicle will need to be altered significantly so that it will fit comfortably through a passageway that is approximately 10-feet wide.

I will need this ordered rushed so that the vehicle is available by Christmas day. Please let me know if this is possible and I will send my driver to retrieve the modified H2 no later than December 24th, Christmas Eve.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther

***

Dear North Texas Pyrotechnics Productions,

Salutations. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther. I am writing to request a custom made close proximity pyrotechnic package.

I am in need of several short-range airborne explosives that can be affixed to and released from a moving vehicle’s exterior while being remotely triggered from within said vehicle. Also, I will need flash illumination and concussion rounds that will line an enclosed passage of approximately 40 feet in length.

I will need this pyrotechnic system designed and installed no later than December 24th to be used in a Christmas day event. Please let me know if this is possible and I will have my personal assistant Reggie Part Two follow up with more particulars.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther

***

Dear Ker’s WingHouse,

Good day. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther. I am writing to request catering services from your fine hot wing establishment.

Your catered service will be part of an event scheduled to be held on Christmas day. I can’t even begin to fathom a more fitting feast for the season than genetically mutated chicken wing sections that are deep fried, slathered in a vinegar-based cayenne butter sauce, and served by a gaggle of walking eating disorders.

I would like to order 30 tubs of chicken and sausage gumbo, 30 tubs of clam chowder, a truckload of chili cheese fries, a truckload of Brew City onion rings, 1,000 buffalo chicken strips, 3,000 buffalo shrimp, 6,000 poppers, and 1,000 orders of your world famous Belt-Bustin’ Nachos.

I trust this order can be fulfilled without incident. Please inform me of the full charges and I will have my personal assistant Reggie Part Two provide you with a cashier’s check and delivery instructions.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther


***

Dear Great White,

Hello and happy holidays. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther. I am writing to you to request your musical services for a Christmas day event that I am planning to take place in downtown Dallas.

I keep a web log that I am sure you are familiar with. There are many readers who rightfully believe that my wed log has “jumped the shark,” as it were. I would like to have your band perform in honor of their expert summation.

I should warn you that the event will feature an abundance of pyrotechnics and staged fireworks. I hope this will not be a distraction.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther

***

Dear Dallas World Aquarium,

Greetings. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther. I am writing to request the use of your facilities for an event to be held on Christmas day.

In tribute to the authoritative assessment that my web log has “jumped the shark,” I would like to drive a Hummer outfitted with pyrotechnic explosions through your shark tank tunnel. I have already made the appropriate arrangements to realize this spectacular vision and presume that your organization will be on board.

The event will be catered by the world famous Ker's WingHouse and musical entertainment will be provided by the hit 80's cock rock outfit, Great White.

I will, of course, cover all costs and expenditures personally. I thank you in advance for your cooperation and look forward to working with you on this project.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Nau'to twibaounme

Dear readers,

That this web log’s quality and consistency has been in steep decline recently is a reality not lost on me. Nor has it been lost on you. The comment sections of the world wide webs are peanut galleries where cruel truth and infallible personal opinion merge to become one. This is where I hear cries of shark jumping. This is where I meet accusations that the joke has worn quite thin. This is where elegant and thoughtful critiques of my work are so eloquently phrased: “Zzzzzzzzzzzz.”

I would not dispute these claims, as I could not agree more. You are right, wizened internet commentators and I wholeheartedly apologize. What at first may have seemed like a merry romp is now a tired exercise in increasingly commonplace absurdity and scatological reference-by-numbers.

Farewell,
Alibaster Abthernabther

Workplace in the Diversity

Dear Dallas Business Journal,

Good day to you. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther. I am a best selling author, champion yacht racer, hot air balloon enthusiast, folk dancer, and diverse employer.

I am writing to you regarding your upcoming “Diversity in the Workplace” conference and to offer myself as either a guest speaker, guest panelist, or high profile guest of honor. I hire African-Americans. And I'm not afraid to admit it.

I engage in several professional endeavors in a variety of industries and therein I willfully employ a great many individuals; people of every shape, size, and hue. I also hire Asians. Therefore, I would be an ideal addition to your seminar and would have much to contribute to your “frank, interactive discussion on the topic of Diversity and Your Business.” Did I mention that I hire Hispanics? I do, but I pay them in cereal. Boo Berry is their favorite.

Here is just a taste of what I can offer your event by way of lengthy public address: “Business is diverse. People are diverse. Business requires diverse people and people require diverse business. Diversity.”

My expert advice is not solely limited to the simple assemblage of empty buzz jargon that, while incredibly moving, is utterly vacant of any actual coherent meaning. I have hired Jews but almost always end up firing them shortly thereafter. I can also share with conference attendees the methods I have developed to execute precision diversity in my workplace and how it can be applied to any workplace. I hire Middle Eastern people, then report them to federal authorities for reasons I later fabricate. Over the years I have perfected a winning stratagem for hiring and positioning my workers in a manner that celebrates cultural diversity by blindly associating job skills and workplace responsibilities with stereotypes and xenophobic assumption.

Diversity.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther

Monday, December 10, 2007

This Week's Edits

Occasionally, I will turn in a piece to the Quick that for one reason or another must be editorially fettered prior to publication. In an effort of full disclosure to my loyal web log readers, I will post what has been changed whenever such revisions occur. Think of it as the deleted scenes bonus material for that week's column.

  • "Rat hammer" was changed to "dog cannon."
  • The recipe for "Grandma Abthernabther's Chinchilla Soup" was omitted due to word count limitations.
  • "Sunny bunny fluff" was changed to "lava snot."
  • All references to Hitler were removed.
  • The phrase "Korean people like to steal cars" was replaced with"Korean people do not like to steal cars."
  • "Jerk wad" was changed to "putrid festering dickface."
  • All references to the Richard Marx piano ballad "Right Here Waiting" were removed.
  • "Dick York" was replaced with "Dick Sargent."

Sunday, December 9, 2007

Don We Meow Our Gay Apparel

Dear Dallas Symphony Orchestra,

Greetings and good day. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther; best selling author, yacht racer, hot air balloon enthusiast, recreational life coach and DSO season ticket holder.

I am quite literally soiling myself in anticipation of your forthcoming annual holiday concert series. Much like garnishing belt buckles with mistletoe to encourage spontaneous fellatio, spiking figgy pudding with model airplane glue and rohypinol, and setting fire to unsuspecting quiescent vagrants, attending this concert is a Christmas tradition I spend most of my year looking forward to. That is not to say it leaves me wholly satisfied.

Each Christmas I attend the concert and each Christmas I come away from the performance with an efficient sense of seasonal wonder tinged with the slightest inkling of nagging disappointment. Something is painfully absent. While the program includes several Christmas classics reproduced with stunning symphonic splendor and luxurious choral brilliance, it always seems to be somewhat undersupplied, lacking a certain je ne sais quoi. However, I now believe I have figured out what has been missing lo these many years: vocal accompaniment performed by three or four dozen house cats.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther

Friday, December 7, 2007

Death Be Not Proud

Dear Jill "J.R." Labbe,

My name is Alibaster Abthernabther, best selling author, yacht racer, hot air balloon enthusiast, Hummel figurine collector, and staunch proponent of court-ordered lethal punishment.

Kudos on your recent commentary in defense of the death penalty which was recently broadcast over the airwaves and the world wide web waves of our local public broadcasting radio affiliate. It surely brightened my morning drive to the gym. Nothing prepares my stomach for a series of merciless crunches like a disjointed and condescending argument in favor of terminating the miserable, twisted life of some mentally deficient beast.

I agree with you wholeheartedly. Yes, once an accused murderer or child molester or rapist or murdering child molesting rapist has been sufficiently "tried in a court of law and found guilty of their earthly actions" - a process which is infamously free of fault, flaw or mishap - the accused should then be put down like the diseased creature that they are. Any right-thinking, blue-blooded, God-fearing, Larry the Cable Guy Christmas Spectacular-viewing American can get on board with that. However, I personally believe that the means of execution at our disposal are in fact too humane and thus equating the painless, chemically induced death of, say, a fiendish serial killing cannibal to "justice" is somewhat of a misnomer.

To be, as you so put it, "society's just and symmetrical response to the premeditated act of murder," I personally believe the punishment of death should be precisely and exactly symmetrical, perfectly fitting the crime like an Yves Saint-Laurent Croc-Embossed Glove. If a murderer is accused and convicted of turning their victim's skull into an ashtray then the criminal's skull should meet the same posthumous cigarette butt-filled fate. None of this namby-pamby lethal injection pampering.

Conversely, I believe that the proper way to abort an unwanted pregnancy is to sex it to death. Call me old fashioned. That’s how I was raised.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

The Event of the Season

Dear PaperCity,

Fashionable greetings to you. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther. I am a best selling author, yacht racer, hot air balloon enthusiast, "Gallagher Too" understudy and official AVN Awards Show seat filler.

I would like to extend to you a formal invitation to the annual Holiday Gala at Abthernabther Manor. As you are probably already aware, this is the most exclusive and important social event of the year. This is where Dallas' mega-famous, ultra-mega-famous, and super-ultra-mega-famous meet, mingle, schmooze, and schmingle with the lithe ferocity of a zillion Ecstasy-riddled debutantes. Friendships are made, coalitions are formed, previously made friendships are then betrayed, coalitions are unceremoniously disbanded, all culminating in a frothy orgy of champagne-stained cocktail dresses and gin-drenched cummerbunds.

Guests will include renowned fashion designer Jean-Jacque St. Fleuff, celebrity chef Randy Castle-Court, flamethrower artist Chaka Chaka, Miami Dolphins kicker Jay Feely, pubic hair sculptor Durty LaBouche, supermodels Isabella Smirsh, Duumaz, and Jennifer Jenniferson, and the law firm of Rosenwitz, Mengele, and Rosenwitz.

This year’s theme is “Do They Know It’s Christmas? No, Of Course They Don’t. They Are Quite Poor.” Alibaster Manor’s walls will be adorned with gigantic black and white prints of impoverished third world children. Guests will be encouraged to point and laugh at their suffering. New and unwrapped toys for disadvantaged inner-city youngsters will be collected at the door and then promptly burned in a massive toxic bonfire.

This invitation is open to all PaperCity society photographers plus one guest. Cocktails, hors d’oeuvres and barbiturates will be served. Both formal evening attire and breathable swimwear are required.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Viewers Like You

Dear KERA Pledge Drive,

Well, life on the farm is kinda laid back. Ain’t much an old country boy like me can’t hack. It’s early to rise, early in the sack. Thank God I’m a country boy. Well, a simple kinda life never did me no harm. A raisin’ me a family and workin’ on a farm. My days are all filled with an easy country charm. Thank God I’m a country boy

Well I got me a fine wife, I got me a fiddle. When the sun's comin' up I got cakes on the griddle. Life ain’t nothin’ but a funny funny riddle. Thank God I’m a country boy.

When the works all done and the suns settlin’ low. I pull out my fiddle and I rosin up the bow. The kids are asleep so I keep it kinda low. Thank God I’m a country boy. I’d play "Me So Horny" all day if I could. But the lord and my wife wouldn’t take it very good. So I fiddle when I could, work when I should. Thank God I’m a country boy.

Well I got me a fine wife, I got me a fiddle. When the sun's comin' up I got cakes on the griddle. Life aint nothin but a funny (thank you, Bryce) funny riddle. Thank God I’m a country boy.

(fiddle solo)

Well I wouldn’t trade my life for diamonds and jewels. I never was one of them money hungry fools. I’d rather have my fiddle and my farmin’ tools. Thank God I’m a country boy. Yeah, city folk drivin’ in a black limousine. A lotta sad people thinkin’ that’s mighty keen. Son, let me tell ya now exactly what I mean. Thank God I’m a country boy.

Well I got me a fine wife, I got me a fiddle. When the sun's comin' up I got cakes on the griddle. Life ain’t nothin’ but a funny funny riddle. Thank God I’m a country boy.

Well, my fiddle was my daddy’s till the day he died. And he took me by the hand and held me close to his side. Said, live a good life and play my fiddle with pride. And thank God you’re a country boy. My daddy taught me young how to hunt and how to whittle. Taught me how to work and play a tune on the fiddle. Taught me how to love and how to give just a little. Thank God I’m a country boy.

Well I got me a fine wife, I got me a fiddle. When the sun's comin’ up I got cakes on the griddle. Life ain’t nothin’ but a funny funny riddle. Thank God I'm a country boy.

Thank God I’m a country boy.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther

Amo A Muchachas Slutty!

Querido 12 Corazones,

Hola. Permita que se introduzca. Mi nombre es Alibaster Abthernabther, el mejor autor vendedor, corredor del yate, entusiasta del globo del aire caliente, amante fanático y candente de la demostración del juego de la realidad.

Déjeme comenzar diciendo, yo no tienen ninguna idea cuál es dicho en su programa de la televisión. En cualquier momento dado, estoy totalmente en una pérdida en cuanto a qué se está encendiendo. Sin embargo, a Penélope Menchaca me enamoro absolutamente, especialmente cuando ella usa las faldas del dril de algodón y los cargadores de cuero altos de la rodilla. También, muchos de los contestants femeninos visten como prostitutes comunes de la calle. Esto que tengo gusto mucho.

Continúe el buen trabajo.

Sinceramente,
Alibaster Abthernabther

Monday, December 3, 2007

Straight As A One Dollar Bill

Dear Jack E. Jett,

Hello, sir. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alibaster K. Abthernabther, best selling author, yacht racer, hot air balloon enthusiast, part-time rodeo clown, and friend of The Gays.

You and I have never been formally introduced. That is not to say we have never met, as I am no stranger to glory holes or the occasional anonymous bus station restroom reach-around. I might have once thought it possible that we had crossed paths and exchanged, shall we say, “pleasantries.” As I am no fan of innuendo I will go on to say that we may have crossed paths while engaging in an anonymous bus station restroom reach-around, if you know what I mean. And what I mean is that we may have performed reach-arounds on each other in a bus station bathroom. Anonymously.

However, recent events have caused me to question the plausibility of such an exchange. Last week I was privy to a scene that might blossom into a public relations nightmare for you if not immediately explained or extinguished.

I was in the middle of a steak dinner at The Titty Hut, my favorite local steakhouse and topless bar. Just as I had slipped a crisp twenty dollar bill into a random harlot’s butt cleavage and swallowed a succulent morsel of bacon-wrapped fillet, I looked up to see you, Jack E. Jett, ferociously spanking a buxom young woman on her bare bottom with your signature rubber dish gloves. No sooner did I surmise that you were simply being “cheeky” and “ironic,” as The Gays often do, than you proudly exclaimed, “I am seriously repulsed by a man’s touch and love nothing more than to sink my engorged wang into a lady’s furry coin purse!” To clarify further you went on to proclaim, "And when I say 'lady' I mean someone who was born a natural female, not some dude who paid a surgeon to make him into a lady!"

I was absolutely aghast. If the boys down at Zippers were to hear of this you would be laughed out of Cedar Springs before the morn. Please don’t misinterpret my concern for heterophobia. You are free to lust over members of the opposite sex. I personally believe you should be able to marry them if you wish. But your public image as a wickedly flitty provocateur is threatened every time you frequent The Titty Hut or Skank Tank or Shaven Beaver Barn in such an outrageously non-homo manner. Might I suggest you patronize establishments more in line with the homo-friendly image you try to exude? Clubs like The Throbbing Gentleman or Admiral Petey’s Boy Palace or, my personal favorite, Bottoms Upside Your Head.

Rest assured your secret is safe with me, sir. But you may want to be mindful of prying public eyes when carousing for the vaginas you so desperately crave.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther


* UPDATE : 12/9/07 *

Jack E. Jett responds...

Dear Ali Ab;

Well, above and beyond being utterly starstruck at receiving an email from you, I was a bit taken aback (that is very different from being taken aforward) with you choice of verbiage. There is no doubt that you and I have had mutliple sexual pleasantries as I would recognize your wide stance among those of a lesser stance anywhere. Your three taps, with a slight shuffle to the left while humming Sympathy For the Devil by the Rolling Stones is infamous. Many try to copy it. Many fail.

It is true that from time to time, I can be found pounding the poon or tapping the tang. I usually do this under an assumed name. I am a mercy fucker. You have seen me and therefore you know that I, like you, am a God of sorts. A chick and dude magnet. It is cumbersome. The laws of nature will not and can not allow me to go without visiting the bearded leisure centre, the pink palace if you will. I don't make these laws, I just enforce them.

You are right that my reputation could be tarnished should prominent local homosexuals like Cloris Leachman or Pete Sessions get wind of it, and I think you know what I mean by wind, and I think you know what I mean by think. I understand that you have been elected Queen of Verbiage for a daily publication called Quick or Pronto for our chimichanga loving friend in Farmers Branch. I learned years ago, my on a missionary mercy fuck mission in Japan that the lower one man bows to another is a sign of the level of respect on has for his tomadachi. With that in mind, please know I am laying on the floor in hopes that you will not share the breeder side of me with your fans/readers/contributors
/johns/stalkers.

Please know that I love you and I love loving you.

With that in mind,

Jack Jett

Heal Thine Penchant For Ripping Off A Chevy Chase Movie

Dear Benny Hinn,

Good day to you, sir. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther. I am a best selling author, yacht racer, hot air balloon enthusiast, and true believer in the healing power of Christ.

Let me say firstly and foremostly that I am a longtime fan of your work. From your salad days as a sex obsessed, marshmallow-shaped English comedian to your more recent enterprise as a babbling televangelist healer of indeterminate ethnic origin who wears brassy discards from the Steve Harvey Collection, I have charted your illustrious career with great interest.

I have a request to be cured by your healing hand. What with the
U.S. Senate’s request that you turn over evidence of your ministry’s financial standing this week
, I assume that time is of the essence. Before you are sent to a federal prison for tax evasion and fraud for many, many years, please consider laying hands one last time. More specifically, please consider laying hands on me. Even more specifically, please consider laying hands on my rump cheeks, as they have been possessed by Satan’s will.

Fissures, hemorrhoids, unstoppable gastric discharge; you name it and my anus is afflicted with it. Every other inch of my body is pristine, healthy, and fully functional; alas my hind quarter has a diseased mind of its own. If we could meet for a mere moment so you could lay your warm, wonderful palms on my quivering, pockmarked ass, I know in my heart of hearts that all its painful suffering would be undone by the Lord’s transcendent mending power.

Also, this premise is nothing like that one scene in Fletch Lives.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther

Sunday, December 2, 2007

Kudos to me for selling out like a filthy, filthy whore!

Dear readers,

It is with a mixture of spine-tingling excitement, heart-shattering fear and mild embarrassment that I make the following pronouncement. Starting tomorrow I will be a contributing columnist for the Quick DFW.

Those of you unfamiliar with this free weekday publication may recognize Quick from its more common use as makeshift bed linens for the area’s homeless. But this is not its sole purpose of publication. Say you were forced to ride the DART system; perhaps your luxury sedan was in the shop and they were unable to assign a rental vehicle to you. Or you bludgeoned your driver with a marble salt shaker without first hiring a replacement servant. Or maybe you were kidnapped, knocked unconscious, then freed in a remote part of town and forced to take public transportation. However you ended up on the DART you no doubt came across this newspaper. The Quick is what you will see insane perverts pretending to read while they are being sexually aroused by the mass transit vehicle's centrifugal momentum.

I urge all of you to pick up a copy of the Quick each Monday and enjoy my enchanting whimsy over breakfast, brunch, lunch, coffee, or the carcass of a recently murdered enemy. My column is designed to fill most of your emotional voids and compliment your psychosomatic foibles. Then communicate to the Quick editor via digital correspondence, postal parcel, or carrier pigeon how much you love my work, finding it to be the literary equivalent of an awkward yet affectionate dry hump.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther

Pretty On The Inside-Out

Dear Nu Image,

My name is Alibaster Abthernabther. I am a best selling author, temporary amnesia sufferer, and best selling author.

I was leafing through your Winter 2007 issue and was wondering if you could provide me with a referral based on a specific procedure that I have been interested in for some time. I am sure this can be done without compromising your objectivity as a member of the free press, seeing as you are not an actual magazine but a collection of advertisements for vanity practitioners masquerading as lifestyle journalism.

I would like to have a fully functional vagina grafted to the tip of my penis, then I would like this vagina to undergo laser vaginal rejuvenation, followed by a lip enhancement utilizing the new Perma Facial Implant procedure. Please let me know if there are any plastic surgeons in the Dallas-Fort Worth area who can facilitate all of this under one sterile roof.

Also, kudos on the article "Are You Overdoing It?" which offered tips and suggestions for those of us who may be abusing or over-indulging in caffeine, food, alcohol, sleep, etc. I could not help but notice that "obsessively reconstructing your natural physical traits" did not make that list, though I assume this was for good reason.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther

Sweet Charity

Dear Victoria Snee,

Good day to you, good lady. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther. I am a best selling author, champion yacht racer, hot air balloon enthusiast, pastry chef, and vintage mitten collector.

I am pleased as punch – or should I say, pleased as egg nog - to see you once again teaming up with Starbucks for your Holiday Angels Toy Drive. It is in the truest sense of giving --- I’m sorry. I’m going to have to stop right here. I can’t go any further. I need to get something out of the way first. I’m sure you will understand.

Are you seriously married to FOX 4’s Jeff Crilley? Seriously? Now, I am quite aware that he is an Emmy award winning reporter because right there on his website it says in big bold letters, “Emmy award winning reporter.” I am sure he’s a lovely person and a real upstanding fellow. And don’t get me wrong, he’s not a bad looking gentleman. But, I mean, c’mon. Seriously.

I’m sorry. That was uncalled for and completely out of line. Who am I to question the love and attraction between two people, especially when it is a bond conjoining two local media personalities? Since when was I voted mayor of Compatibility City? Please forgive me and allow me to continue.

As I was saying, your annual Holiday Angels Toy Drive benefiting Cook Children’s Medical Center and Children’s Medical Center of Dallas is a wonderful endeavor that combines the --- Jeff Crilley? I mean, really. C’mon. Seriously. Again, I’m not suggesting that he’s an ugly man. Perhaps he’s a little on the toothy side, but by no means could he be considered downright physically repulsive. But, c’mon! Look at him. Now look at you. Now look at him again. Now look at you again. Do you see what I’m getting at? Don’t make me come out and say it. Please do not make me come out and say it.

I am truly sorry. That was very rude of me. I am embarrassed beyond reproach. I will try to get back on track here so I may address the --- Jeff Crilley? Really? Seriously? It’s just extremely difficult to fathom that a gentleman of his design is allowed to be acquainted with you in a Biblical manner. Excuse my frank description, but it is really and truly astonishing that an individual of such mediocre corporal makeup is permitted access to your various regions on a regular basis without some sort of bribe or fiscal compensation or a deep amount of pity on your part. Is it pity? It must be pity. Was he shamed or dishonored in front of you by, perhaps, a clan of evil kung fu masters or a street gang of some sort?

It is quite obvious that your charitable nature is a major driving force in your life and deed, as well as your choice of life partner and involvement with the Holiday Angels Toy Drive. Good show, my lady. Good show.

Yours,
Alibaster Abthernabther