Category Archives: Humor


Morning Wood saves the day

Continued from Wherein I am brought low.

It tickled me t’see th’lasses tremble at th’sound o’ elvish mirth. Under common circumstances, ‘twould have made yer good host tremble, too; yet I was, as they say, close t’polishing Davy Jones’ Locker, so th’diversion was most welcome indeed.

“Mates o’ yours?” asked th’fair Dax Montana. “”Twill help ye naught.”

“Nay,” said I. “Not mates. Them be elves.”

Cap’n Dyke approached me broken body. And a sorry sight I must have been, too: stripped to me underbritches, bleedin’ from a thousand stripes. The Cap’n had t’hold up me chin t’meet yer narrator’s gaze face t’face.

“What know ye of elves, Cap’n Wood?”

“I know they sail not by th’wind, but by tacking across ley lines; put yer glass on yon ship, and ye’ll see she floats above the water.”

Cap’n Dyke spied the elvish craft, then held her glass fer me own benefit as well.

This be what I saw:

(more…)

Wherein I am brought low

Continued from A bounty of ladies.

On a bright Sunday morn, th’ light sparklin’ off th’waves like a million suns, our froggy helmsman set us on a southerly course, aiming to round th’Horn. All was right with th’world, for I was sailing with a crew o’th’most mouthwatering lasses outside o’Araby.

Yet ’twas less than a fortnight afore I was dragged in irons t’th’most laudable presence of Cap’n Dyke. Aye, a beauteous lass she is, too.

Thar she be, me fair Cap’n Dyke:

Dax Montana, the Cap’n’s bouncer, threw me to the floor most roughly, in a manner t’which I have scarce known from th’softer sex, and I found meself looking up at th’luscious curves of Cap’n Dyke herself.

“He befouled the breast of Blue Gal,” said Dax, “with his mouth.”

Piped the Cap’n, “What have ye t’say in yer defense?”

(more…)

A bounty of ladies

(In honor of Talk Like a Pirate Day, I have allowed th’good Captain Morning Wood to shanghai me blog. When ye last met him, Cap’n Wood had lost everything to the scurvy ponce Randall Richards, that foppish agent of Her Majesty Herself. Shipless and destitute, Cap’n Wood seeks employment from a most unlikely source: a right buxom lass.)

Cap’n Wood, the very same

“A vessel with nought but ladies?” said I. “‘T’ain’t natural.”

“But ye say ye’ve sailed for months on end with nought but lads,” said that most fair wench, Da Nator, ship’s bosun o’th’Mound of Blue Dykes. “That t’ain’t natural.”

“That’t t’ain’t,” said I, “and thank Poseidon for tubs of lanolin.”

(more…)

Frodo pwnz Hedgehog, Hedgehog gets revenge

Because my sleep is still effed up and I can’t manage to think in anything other than intersecting parallel lines, here’s a surreal Lord of the Rings spoof for you to contemplate.

“LOTR Orgy” doesn’t quite live up to the promise of its name, but it certainly confirmed an old suspicion of mine regarding the, ahem, fellowship of the ring.

Now, this one is worth the wear and tear on your clicky finger: Hunks of Middle Earth. Funny, cute, and none of those way-too-easy Brokeback jokes.

Way cool Gollum impression, sucky video values.

Let me end on a positive note with How The Lord of the Rings Should Have Ended. Watch it to the end — the punch line is great.

D.

P.S.: Let’s say you’ve immersed yourself in Gogol Bordello and you’re looking for another gypsy punk fix. Meet Kultur Shock.

To suck and suck not

Continued from yesterday.

Corwin checked in with me a week later. That hunk o’ married manflesh rolled his eyes at the patients in Reception, then took me by the elbow and guided me into one of my exam rooms.

“How’s business?”

I leaned on the motorcycle I keep in my exam room and ran my fingers through my hair. “If I have to suck ass fat from another peroxide-blonde fake-titted bimbo, I’m gonna — what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing, Dax, nothing at all. Any leads?”

“Not a blessed one.”

He began pawing over my charts, his married eyes lingering over every last full color photo. I felt the blood rush to my head.

(more…)

Those aren’t trophy ears hanging off my bandolier

Inspired by O’Brien, virally transmitted by Cochrane, I bring you the latest and strangest blog meme (excuse me, Dean — meem):

I am Dax Montana.

I ground my right heel into the dirtbag’s chest and made him eat my muzzle. I brought my left knee up into his groin, not full force, but hard enough to bruise. Figured he’d want something to remember our time together.

He had an eyeful now. I hoped he enjoyed it.

I used the pistol to probe his molars for cavities. “It’s not easy having a high center of gravity,” I said. “In fact, it’s a real handicap. If one of your officers came into the precinct with a broken arm, you wouldn’t stare at the cast, would you?”

He shook his head like a good little dirtbag. Corwin from Homicide chose that moment to poke his head in.

“Chief, do you have the file on Pluto Banks — oh, hi, Dax. Chief been getting randy again?”

“This is our private sexual harassment seminar.” I took out my pistol and wiped the barrel on the Chief’s face. “Which you just passed with flying colors, right?”

“Mm-hm,” Chief Larabell said while trying to look anywhere but at my decolletage.

“Now, why don’t you two tell me about Banks.”

The Chief got to his feet and brushed himself off. “Corwin, brief Montana, will you? I, ah, need to use the bathroom.”

After he left, I wiped my knee with the Chief’s cap. “Look at this. The leather is ruined. I wish that man would learn to control his bladder.”

(more…)

No good deed . . .

After hearing the diagnosis, I had a sit-down with Mist, our new black cat. I would have asked Ash, but I couldn’t get anything out of her but the F-bomb.

“You don’t know what it was like in that hell-hole,” Mist said, referring to the Humane Society shelter. “Ash and I were the smallest ones there. We had to give up more than a bit of tail just to stay fed.”

I sighed and decided to try one more time. “That still doesn’t explain how you got a sexually transmitted disease IN YOUR EYE.”

Ash chose this moment to saunter by, farting as she passed. “Fuck you, Meester Doctor know-eet-all.”

(more…)

The master of all I survey

This week’s Random Flickr Blogging brought to you by the number 7226.

I blame Kibbles ‘n Bits.

I’m a hunter by nature, a beast who lives for the chase, the capture, the jet of hot blood as I sink my teeth into another hapless furry neck. My mother didn’t bring me into this world to eat out of a bowl.

Kibble. Bits. Bits of what?

They expected me to take it like a bitch, but I showed them. No more rolled-up newspaper for this predator. No more five-minutes-only of sniff-ass in the park, either. Now that they’re gone, I’ll mount whomever and whatever I please, whenever I please, thank you kindly and woof. I’m my own dog now.

When Homicide arrived on the scene, I whined and sulked and made a pretense of deep depression. The ruse worked. Not one of the detectives suspected me, despite the fact I stabbed Him in the eye with my rawhide chew toy and strangled Her with my leash. Oh, delicious irony!

One of them scratched me on the belly and called me a good doggy. I would have shot him with his own weapon — I could have done it, too; I know where to put my claw — but that would have ruined everything. Instead, before Animal Rescue could arrive, I dashed out the front door when they weren’t looking.

From that moment forward it’s been one continuous, exhilarating crime spree. First thing I did, I taught Delilah, that uppity Shih Tzu next door, a lesson. I’ve been wanting to shag that hairy bitch for months. Then I took a dump in her owners’ swimming pool and left her to take the blame.

I hitched a ride by leaping onto the back of an open-bed truck owned by some good ol’ boy with a Golden Retriever named Max. That evening, I told Max How it Was, and How it Was Gonna Be. His master got drunk that night like usual, but this time, Max laid down across his face. Poor bastard choked on his own vomit — ugly, but effective.

Life’s been pretty good. I have a blonde Toy Poodle who does anything I ask (lick me there, I tell her, and she licks me there) and a crew of Pit Bulls who are cleaning up this planet one human at a time. If you’re alive to read this, listen up: get your affairs in order; kiss your loved ones goodbye.

There’s a new master in town.

D.

A Brief History of Falafel

I had me some more of Cap’n Dyke’s beet salad tonight, which means I’ll be peeing a fine Robert Mondavi Rosé for the next two or three days. And in honor of that observation, I changed the blog’s subtitle. See above.

A combination of tonight’s dinner and an otherwise blank slate from the blog muse led to tonight’s topic. Drumroll, please, for a brief history of falafel . . .

(more…)

, July 11, 2006. Category: Food, Humor.

Upon Readin’ th’best-seller, ‘Guacamole Sunrise’, While Tryin’ t’Keep A.J. From Demandin’ Sex For th’Sixth Time Tonight Long Enough t’Finish Writin’ th’Latest Chapter in My Continued Adventures Before We Go See ‘V for Vendetta’

No, that not be th’real title. However, this is…

Cap’n Dyke and Th’Frog Combine Psychic Forces t’Bring Ye, Direct from th’Past…

Clitatia Vaginus Expounding Upon Nutrimens Diligo

[Note: Clitatia Vaginus was a contemporary of Sappho, the first ‘lesbian’ noted in the historical record. While we don’t know Clitatia’s sexual orientation, we do know she knew about what to eat to prime the heat.]

‘The ancient Greeks and Romans were a randy little lot. Wanting to swell their armies—as well as their libidos, they searched the world far and wide for foods that would enhance sexual performance and pleasure.

According to these past powerhouses of history, one of the most powerful sexual potions was ‘made from the pith taken from the branch of the pomegranate which was then ground together with the testicles of bulls and rams.’ Pliny the Elder remarked, however, that as much as this mixture might have been popular “it was good neither for the heart or the kidneys”. Well, Clitatia is here to tell you that Pliny the E. is right!

The Roman poet Marcus Valerius Martialis favored more ordinary foods as aphrodisiacs. He suggested that sexual appetite could be stimulated in old men if they dined on spring onions and shallots. For “young men suffering from impotency and not-so-young women suffering from lack of desire”, he said that pepper, cabbage, asparagus, eggs, pineapples and snails (eaten uncooked and without sauce) would be effective stimulators.

Between the forth and first centuries B.C.E. many medical doctors, including Galen and Hippocrates, agreed that chomping garlic would contribute to one’s sexual potency and, at the same time it kept vampires away, so it had did double-duty as a desirable plant.

Get yourself a recipe for mussels cooked with onions, garlic and saffron cooked in a buttery, white wine sauce and this former vestal virgin promises that if it doesn’t kill you, it will stoke those fires hotter than Rome when it was burnt by the Huns. Your guide, Clitatia Vaginus, found out that butter and garlic can cause your sweat — and other secretions — extra slick.

Lettuce was considered a boost for sexual potency by the Greeks, the Romans and the Egyptians (a sexual romping trifecta if I’ve ever seen one).

Other foods to fuel your fire include: Aniseed, artichokes, skink flesh (it’s a lizard, small, unpalatable), carrots, rabbits, sweet peas, parsnips and—that all time favorites of favorites—sparrow’s brains. There was some squabbling about what member of the animal kingdom was the sexiest. Romans found the rabbit to be particularly lustful, while the Greeks felt sparrows were the real ‘beasts’ in the pursuit of sexual pleasure. Skinks (those little lizards) are slim and long…well, you take the connotation from there, darlings. Ergo, you ate them to transfer their power to yourself.

As a tribute to our illustrious host, the proprietor of ‘Balls and Walnuts’, our Dear Douglas, let’s discuss walnuts. Walnuts have been cultivated for at least 2,000 years and they have been linked to love and fertility throughout history. According to an ancient myth, Jupiter, the king of the gods who was also known as Jove, lived on walnuts when he lived on earth. Therefore Romans called walnuts Jovis glans, meaning “the glans of Jupiter.” (Glans is the rounded tip of the penis or the erectile tissue of the clitoris.) Romans also called the walnut nux Gallica, meaning “the French nut.” Juglans regia, the botanical name of the Persian walnut (also called the English walnut), translates as the “regal nut of Jupiter.”

A recipe for your pleasure (hopefully):

Roasted Beet, Goat Feta and Walnut Salad on Radicchio Leaves

3 medium-size beets
1/3 cup goat feta, diced into small pieces
1/2 cup walnut pieces, dry-roasted in a cast iron pan
2 tsps walnut oil
1 tsp (5 ml) balsamic vinegar
1 tsp (5 ml) orange juice
2 tsps (10 ml) oregano, tarragon or other fresh herbs, finely chopped
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
Radicchio leaves (or Belgian endive leaves), washed and dried.

Preheat the oven to 425 degree F. Place a baking sheet or a sheet of aluminum foil on the lower oven rack to catch beet drippings. Place whole beets on the upper oven rack and bake for 1-1/2 to 2 hours. Remove from oven and allow them to cool. Peel off the beet skins and discard. Dice the beets into small pieces and place in a bowl. Add the walnuts and goat feta. Combine the walnut oil, vinegar, orange juice, chopped herbs and black pepper. Pour over the salad mixture and toss to combine. Spoon a tablespoon of the mixture onto each radicchio or endive leaf and arrange decoratively on a large platter and enjoy your hot n’ steamy evening.

Note that the Roman physician Galen wrote that foods worked as aphrodisiacs if they were “warm and moist”. However, remember, my lusty students, that the Roman poet Ovid wrote in The Art of Love, after giving a litany of aphrodisiacs, “Prescribe no more my muse, nor medicines give / Beauty and youth need no provocative.”

Alas and alack! What a nothing is man! We all shall be bones at the end of life’s span, so let us be jolly for as long as we can.–Gaius Pompeius Trimalchio

Well, you want to know what Clitacia Vaginus thinks about fusty Ovid? Pah! Hera’s handmaidens, bring on the skink flesh and the sparrow’s brains with a side order of buttered saffron and garlic flavoured mussels and DON’T FORGET THE WALNUTS FOR DESSERT!’

Cap’n Dyke, Resident Pirate Queen

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