10/17/11 - Los Angeles, CA
10/20/11 - Ann Arbor, MI
50 plays • Download
Newest lavender Hour!
Big thanks to Johnny Pemberton for this one…
Just got back from a splendid Hollywood Oscars party at a very famous hollywood actor’s house. I can’t say his name because we were all made to sign non-disclosure agreements a week before the party. For those of you who don’t live in Hollywood this might sound crazy, but it’s impossible for famous people to have real fun if they have to worry about someone reporting back about everything they do when they party
The party took place in a 6 story mansion ringed with terraces. It was a “tiered” party which is basically a party where access is based on your IMDB star meter or your parents star meter or how high up you are in the hollywood community.
I’m proud to admit that I was on the second tier, which might not seem like a big deal, but it is when you consider that some featured actors from The Social Network and Black Swan were on the third tier, and someone whose name rhymes with James Dranko was on the sixth floor of the house.
What was so unique about this party was that people on the 6th floor of the mansion would eat very expensive gourmet food and designer drugs, and then after a time would go out onto a terrace and vomit into tubes that led to the 5th floor terrace. People on the 5th floor would suck the vomit out of the tubes and in turn vomit into their tubes, and this progression would continue all the way down the house. I know it sounds gross but it’s really exciting to taste A list celebrity vomit. Plus it gets you SUPER HIGH!
Big thanks to “Spentin Faretino” for throwing such a great party, and a shout out to Bames Mranko And Fann Rathaway for letting me drink their second hand vomit. It was DELICIOUS.
Happy New Year!
This is the state of the union address my penis wrote to my body.
Arms, Head, Torso, Chest, Stomach, Legs, Ass, Hands, Feet, and everything in between:
Tonight I want to begin by congratulating all the new cells that have recently regenerated throughout the entire body. We are also mindful of the empty patch on top of our head where there once was flourishing hair, and pray for the many hairs that have fallen.
It’s no secret that many of the parts here tonight have had their differences. And that’s a good thing. A healthy body needs parts that sometimes disagree. It is our differences that give us a personality, and as we are in the entertainment industry, our personality is the most important thing.
But there’s a reason the sudden loss of hair at the top of our head gave us pause. Amid all the noise and passion and rancor of our disparate parts wanting to do different things- our hands wanting to masturbate, our feet not wanting to get up to urinate, our legs wanting to take us to the vodka in the freezer, and our mouth wanting to eat marijuna brownies in the day, our new bald spot reminds us that we are all attached to something that is getting old.
We are our body. Whether from underarm hair to double chin we are one body. And as one body we share a common need. To not get too fat or too unhealthy so that our girlfriend will continue to have sex with us and we can reproduce.
This is what makes us human.
Now by itself the simple understanding that we are descending into middle age and growing bald and fat is not enough to change anything. What matters is if instead of sleeping to 11am tomorrow as we have for the last year, we wake up at 6am and go jogging.
I believe we can. I believe we must. At stake right now is whether or not we will be one of those chubby bearded 40 year old stoners with a bottle of lotion at his desk, or a surprisingly in shape middle aged man with a child to carry our DNA into the future.
We are poised to reproduce! Two years after our one year sex drought we actually had sex more than once in a year! Last year we had sex several times a month, and this year, though sex is down prospects look good.
This is the project we should, as a body, work on together: reproduction.
In the past I have, as a penis, made mistakes. I encouraged you to have unprotected sex with party tramps not considering the end result of bearing a child, only wanting us to reproduce. You were smarter than me in this regard, and somehow avoided accidentally creating a child.
But now I speak to you not from a place of stupid passion, but from a logical place. A place of reality. If we do not put a bun in the oven this year, then the genetic chain that extends back to the original ape mother may be severed forever.
We must remember that as a body we are essentially a train for DNA. If we do not allow our DNA to exit the train and board another, then our long journey has ultimately been for nothing more than playing video games and smoking weed.
The brain tells us that everyone we know who is our age with a child seem as though they have become slaves to tiny screaming vampires that they are legally required to feed and educate. The eyes tell us that the earth is overpopulated and there is a good chance that within the next few years we will be ankle deep in nuclear ash, the ears tell us that the shrieking of a baby is worse than the singing of demons, but my friend and ally the heart sees things differently.
The heart tells us that a child will show us our true humanity. The heart tells us that the inconvenience of a child is a small price to pay for seeing the unconditional love beaming from the face of someone we brought into this world.
So, body, as your penis I leave the decision to you. Do you listen to the brain or the heart? Do you allow the mouth, brain, legs, fingers, hands, arms, ass, eyes, face, and instincts to have their way and not reproduce? Or do we listen to the heart, and bring into this magical wonderful world a delightful baby sure to bring us happiness greater than anything we could ever have hoped for.
I came home today to discover my maid had died while carrying my laundry upstairs. The doctors said Rosita had a massive stroke and was probably dead before she hit the ground.
She was an OK housekeeper, especially for a woman in her mid eighties- she worked really hard. For those of my friends who used her as their maid we are having a short very informal service at my apartment.
She was the kind of maid that you hardly ever had to yell at or scold because she was old enough to know when she fucked up. And it was impossible to stay angry at her especially when those milky blue eyes starting oozing tears.
I’m sure by now Rosita is doing an OK job washing clothes in heaven, but if you have a moment please send her a prayer. She was a hard working champ and her knotted arthritic hands, leathery sailor skin, and reasonable daily rate, will be sorely missed by me and many others.
I have obtained a copy of an early draft of Sarah Palin’s now infamous blood libel speech.
Here’s how to grow your own Glenn Beck.
What you’ll need:
1. 2 pounds of Thigh fat from a homeless man, preferably schizophrenic.
2. Moldering baby clothes from a trash-bin at a children’s hospital.
3. Toe Jam swiped from the inner folds of a senile historians foot.
4. A bin of snuff films
5. Senator Semen
5. A cute little mouse
6. Dental Floss
7. Chest of Tea Party Member
8. Tiny American Flag
Using your fists angrily punch the thigh fat, and Toe Jam into a soft pink pulp. If you mix appropriately the pulp should have the pink mashed look of anyone who has been badly beaten in a hate crime.
Form this pulp into the shape of a demon heart, and wrap it in the moldering baby clothes. Seal it all up with a thick coat of semen extracted from a senator in an S&M dungeon. Viola! You now have a Glen Beck seed.
Now, using dental floss bind the cute mouse to a tiny chair, and place the chair above the Glenn Beck seed. Position this directly facing a television and force the mouse to watch snuff films. If done correctly the mouse should begin to emit fear urine which will water the Glenn Beck seed.
After 4 weeks the seed will begin to emit the sulfury acrid smell of burning Palestinian children. This smell known as “Beck Breath” indicates that you’re on the right track.
Now make an incision into the chest cavity of a tea party member, and push the smoking seed deep into the heart. Sew the whole thing up and wait.
After two weeks a tiny indignant fist should jut up from the incision. Push the American Flag into the fist and pull- A tiny little Glenn Beck should emerge.
Congratulations! You now have your own pocket Glenn Beck. Enjoy watching him spread your corporate message to the idiotic masses!