Saturday, April 28, 2007

A Word From Javier Marcos Fantastico

Rex Larry Champion is away for the week at a nutrition conference. I’ll be filling in for him.

I want to talk to you guys about something important, man to man.
Can you guess what it is?

HIV/AIDs? The dangers of drunk driving? Date rape?

No, it’s none of those. I want to talk to you about something that’s happening in Major League Baseball and how it effects your life.

It’s a well known fact that Major Leaguers use certain, things, to improve their athletic abilities.

Now the GOVERNMENT wants to take control of the situation and take it out of the hands of the individual ball clubs and the fans.

When I was going for my associate's at Heald, I found out there’s something called jurisdiction. If you’re like me, you probably thought it had something to do with dicks, but it doesn’t. It means the Mexican police can’t bust me for something I do in San Diego and vice versa.

We need a new system for Major League Baseball, we need a REVOLUTION. We need to take the government out of baseball’s business for good.

I propose that every baseball team gets its own country.

If we form the Republic of the Dodgers, they can’t come in and take nobody’s juice from them. It also means that in the parking lot, they can’t come take anything from us fans either.

Do you realize what that would mean?

Think about it.


That’s what I’m talking about.

Please join with me, Javier Marcos Fantastico, in petitioning Bud Selig to secede from the United States of America to create a more perfect union for Major League Baseball.

Dear Commissioner Selig,
As fans of Major League Baseball, we have faithfully supported the sport through ups and downs, through thick and thin, though rain delays, strikes and scandals. Now the fans are asking something in return. A grave danger threatens to tear at the very fiber of MLB, and that danger is the federal government. We don’t want our children to grow up in a future without Barry Bonds-like slugging power, or with tailgate parties without the basics. NOW is the time to act, before it is too late. We, the fans of MLB hereby request that you draft a declaration of independence to form a more perfect union, the Republic of Major League Baseball. A new sovereign nation is the only way to prevent the US government from encroaching upon the freedoms of players to train as they see fit, and of fans to enjoy games as they see fit.


[sign your name here, and mail to Allan H. (Bud) Selig c/o MLB, 245 Park Avenue, 31st Floor, New York, NY 10167]

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

John Edwards paid $400 for a haircut. What do you think?

"Torrenueva should be ashamed. $400 should at least get you a manicure and a massage with a happy ending. And the cut itself! Heavens to Betsy that haircut is soooo 2004. If 2008 is the new 2004, Edwards is going to have a one way ticket back to North Carolina." -Mo Rocca

"As long as he can talk to my dead relatives, he can spend as much as he wants on his hair." - Amorphous mustached Onion character, postal clerk.

"John Edwards is a nancy boy. Fancy haircuts are no way to take your campaign up a notch. If that nancy boy is serious about achieving ultimate performance for maximum votes, he should stick to the system, the RL Champion Ultimate Turbo 20-Notch System." -Rex Larry Champion

"You should see how much Jonathan Antin charged me for my last full-body cut. Edwards got off easy." -Sasquatch

"John Edwards worked hard to con those knob-gobblers into contributing to his campaign, he can waste their money however he sees fit." -Harry The Partridge

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Children’s Bedtime Tales By Stephen King, Part 1: The Wooden Indian

◊ ◊ ◊
Lions and tigers were near and Scott sensed danger. It was around three o’clock at night and the others hadn’t returned. From the alcove of their hastily assembled tree house, Scott could see silhouettes for miles around. In this light he could not make out what they were, save several Acacia trees which were unmistakable in any light. Each perceived elephant or wild bore turned out to be nothing but a shrub or a small tree. Suddenly a rumbling began under the tree and Scott limply grasped a tattered corn fiber rope which hung from one of the high beams of the tree house. What happened next was equally magnificent and terrifying. Scott began to lose his grip as the rumbling intensified. When the tattered rope slipped through his grasp he groped blindly but his hand was left wanting. His eyes were of no use, for his gaze was fixed on the horizon such that the second coming of Christ would not have made him turn his head. What lay on the horizon was a lion running towards him at full charge. This was no ordinary lion however. This lion was 80,000 feet tall and 150,000 feet long. The lion was so large that its head reached above the clouds and even from 50 miles away it covered a sizable portion of the firmament. The lion roared and several seconds later Scott was thrown from the tree house. He fell hard and perceived a snap. His left leg was broken in two and he was deaf (although he didn’t realize it at the moment, permanently). He looked down at his leg and the sight of sheer bone protruding though punctured bloody skin caused him to pass out. The last thing he remembers was a rank sour smell.

◊ ◊ ◊
Meanwhile, on the other side of the globe, two lanky teenagers walked into a comic book store in the small town of Harmsvalle, Maine. It was a windy winter day and they were happy to be inside. The two young men smiled as they unbuttoned their heavy coats and took off their mittens. The warmth of this place was more than physical, this place was like a second home to them. Terry and Bruce had been frequenting Big J Comics since they were seven years old and every inch of the store was like an old friend, in every corner there was a fond memory. While the inventory changed, there were certain things about the store that would never change. They had named the familiar wooden indian in the window “Chief Dean” in honor of his resemblance to the hard-drinking sunburned Coach Dean, the man who had coached their little league team. The Incredible Hulk #1 in it’s sealed plastic bag had never been sold in the seven years since they first ogled it in the big display case in the back of the store. If they ever grew up and had sons of their own and their sons came to Big J’s, they imagined it would still be there with it’s $2000 dollar price tag. Terry and Bruce might have been getting a little old for comic books (in recent days their interests had begun to shift from Batman and The Punisher more to baseball, girls and cars) but that was ok, it didn’t matter. Big J’s was conveniently situated between Harmsvalle’s only high school and their homes; on frigid New England days like this, the store was beckoning them to break up the long walk home and to reminisce about old times.

The pair walked eagerly towards the back wall of the store and stopped dead in their tracks. They were expecting to see James, the store’s owner and only employee. Like Chief Dean and Hulk #1, James (Big J himself) was another immutable fixture of the store. In all these years, they had never witnessed what they were now seeing. Behind the familiar counter was not James, but another man. The man before them was gaunt, with sharp, weathered features reminiscent of Clint Eastwood. His eyes were vacant like two lumps of coal fastened to his skull. He wore a cowboy hat adorned with a peculiar turquoise band and sat silently on an elevated stool, reading a comic book. He appeared not to notice the two as they approached.

“Hey, where’s James?” Terry blurted out. Terry and Bruce both felt an icy chill as the man behind the counter put down his reading material and slowly turned his head to study them. It was then that they noticed a strange odor, not quite like cigarette smoke, not quite like the wacky tobacky some of their classmates were fond of. Strange and hard to place. Contradictory. Almost sour smelling like curdled milk, but more smokey, more woody. It was a horrible smell.

“James is not here today. I’m filling in for him.” The man said in a raspy voice. Sensing that his answer was deemed inadequate he continued “James is very ill, I might be here for a while. Are you Terry and Bruce?”

The pair looked at each-other nervously.

“How do you know our names? Who are you? What do you mean James is ill?” Terry demanded.

Something was not right. Harmsville was a small town and they had never seen this guy before, or anyone who looked like him. Harmsville wasn’t so small that they knew everybody in town, but when you live in a place like this all your life, you can spot an outsider. The strange man sitting on James’ stool didn’t look like he was from Maine, in fact he looked nearly as out of place as a Japanese tourist in Utah. It was something about his eyes and the leathery texture of his skin... and that hat. Something was not right. Also, it wasn’t like James to leave his shop in another’s hands. James had been ill before and gone on vacations or taken days off. Whenever that happened the store was simply closed, James never had anyone filling in for him.

The man swiveled the stool to face Terry and Bruce more directly. He put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. His gaze was cold and unsettling. It was as if he was looking deeply into them, but also beyond them as if they weren’t there at all. The man lowered his voice to little more than a raspy whisper “James told me to expect you. He left something for you.”

With that, he reached over and picked up the comic book he had been reading from the glass counter. “This is for you, Terry. Take it.”

Terry didn’t move.

The tension in the room was palpable. Something was very wrong. The strange odor also seemed to be getting stronger. Bruce looked over his shoulder, hoping for another customer to walk into the store.

Bruce leaned over to Terry and whispered “let’s get out of here.”

Terry was silent. He was caught in the man’s eyes as if in a trance.

“Come on Terry, this is really creepy, let’s get the fuck out of here, I’m serious, let’s run.”

No response. The color appeared to be fading from Terry’s face. The smell was getting even stronger, it was almost unbearable. Bruce felt like he was going to hurl.

Bruce finally grabbed Terry’s arm and jerked him hard, breaking the spell. The pair then twirled around and waltzed briskly towards the front door without looking back.

To their horror, the door was locked.

“What the fuck!” Bruce oathed. He tried the door again to no avail.

They were trapped.

“Shit” Terry said “I have a really bad feeling about this. This shit is like right out of a Richard Bachman novel. Who is that guy? What’s going on? I don’t know man, this freaks me out.”

While Terry was frightened, Bruce seemed angry. Without warning, Bruce ran to the back of the store to confront the stranger. “Hey, what the hell is going...”

“Terry!” Bruce shouted from the rear of the store.

“Huh?” Terry said.

“He’s gone! He's gone!” Bruce shouted.


Terry walked to the back of the store. It was true. Bruce was standing behind the counter now. The strange man was gone. The noxious odor had also inexplicably vanished.

“Where the hell did he go? There’s only one exit and I was standing right there” Terry said “he must be hiding.” As soon as these words came out of his mouth, Terry felt foolish. Big J Comics was a small shop and it was absurd to suggest that someone could hide. Surely they would have seen or heard the man.

Nonetheless, Bruce was already in motion. The gangly teen sprinted up and down the isles checking high and low. Nothing. He rechecked the door. Still locked.

The man wasn’t hiding. He was gone. Disappeared.

Bruce met Terry back at the counter and they just looked at each-other, dumbfounded.

Bruce now had a look of fear in his eyes.

“What now?” Bruce asked. His voice was shaking.

Terry was standing by the glass counter and seemed not to hear Bruce’s question.

This is for you, Terry. Take it.

Again as if in a trance, Terry leaned over and... picked up the comic book. On the cover was an African savanna with a giant lion overshadowing the landscape.
◊ ◊ ◊

To Be Continued...

Reflections of a Little League Baseball Standout

Hey readers, I'm Ronald Jeffrey, a standout little league baseball player from Mountain View, California. When people hear that I'm a local baseball icon, it's only natural that they'd want to know my thoughs on everything, from international relations to Euclidean geometry to where freckels come from (hint: They're drops from the sun). Before I begin, I'd just like to say that it's an honor to be writing alongside the likes of Harry the Partridge, Sasquatch, and, of course, the man, the myth, the legend, Rex Larry Championn. I feel almost as good as when Hengehold Trucking traded me to the Fish Market for Stanley Rosenberg, two batting helmets, and a few bags of Capri Sun to be named later.

I've had a few things on my mind lately. The latest came to me as I was lacing up my spikes for the game against Jim's Auto and Body Shop. I had just sharpened my toe cleat for good luck when I started thinking about the troop surge. What is our government thinking? Not only is our government sending troops into harm's way without adequate body armor, but they have not even been provided with Under Armour. How can we have homeland security if we cannot protect this house? It reminds me of the time we played a regionals game against Baji's Coffee Lane. Coach somehow sent us up to bat with only Mizuno bats, even though we specifically requested Easton. I said, "Coach, you may as well send me up there with a wet noodle," and all he could do was mumble "Seeball, hitball". After that game, I requested a trade to Wolf Camera.

Another thing I don't get is the Scooter Libby trial. All of us baseball standouts know how to take one for the team. It's like the time when Jimmy Newton got pegged in the nuts by Otto Computer Repair's best pitcher. He needed to get on base, so he stepped into the pitch. He took one for the team (and so did his "prospects" for continuing the Newton family line). When you see a guy like Scooter Libby take a fall for Dick Cheney, Karl Rove, and his other teammates, you gotta applaud a stand-up guy like that.

As a little league star, I'm used to getting a lot of attention. People always ask me stuff like, "How did you go from teeball to pitching machine to PCL to Babe Ruth in just five seasons?", "What's the secret to batting .304245533 as a catcher?", and "How did you stay Athlete's Foot-free for three months last year?". I know that these feats sound amazing, but trust me, it's all possible if you're willing to do things that no one else will, like exercising to improve your peripheral vision. You can draw inspiration from popular culture, using movies like "Rocky", "Braveheart", and "300". I apply that same strategy to my English and Social Studies homework. If you think about it, there are few things in life that aren't analogous in some way to fictionalized violence, and those few things are probably related to gay people in some way. When we learned about capacitors in physics, I immediately thought of that scene in Braveheart where Braveheart tell them to hold the line until the last possible second [Edit: His name isn't Braveheart] before picking up the giant spears to kill the English guys. It also reminds me of the time I charged the mound when Andy Rosales threw a beanball at me in the Silicon Valley All-Stars game.

The other thing that people need to know is that life is all about getting in on the little secrets from people in the know. It's like when you go to GNC. You can settle for a few measly protein powders if you want, but all the knowledgeable people know that you have to recite the first five paragraphs of Dostoevsky's "The Idiot" from memory before they'll let you into the secret chamber where they keep the bovine growth hormone. As you go through life, be sure that you're getting the best information possible from the most informed people. Otherwise you might see your fortunes sink faster than my batting average did when I switched to a gluten-free, turnip-based diet on the advice of our middle school trainer. I wish you all the best and look forward to hearing from me, Ronald Jeffrey, again soon on Writing Rendezvous.

Rules For Refinement By Harry The Partridge

The Superior Gentleman Must Possess:

A healthy disdain for the common man

A love of distinctive cheeses

A mighty set of jowls

A rolodex that reads like a who's who of the men about town and the women they pay for companionship

An air of superiority forever unsullied by facts and figures or the workings of lesser men

An appreciation of all things esoteric

A disarming avowal of affinity for one or more carefully selected commonplace objects such as Coca-Cola, furry dice, or McDonalds hamburgers

A vague and cryptic way of speaking, always with intense eye contact

Attention to detail, matching socks and cufflinks

An extensive knowledge of wine and of places around the world that no average man would care to visit, but which you have graced thrice

A lack of interest in the affairs of those bellow you

An elevated taste in music and art

A loathing of all who don't share in your tastes

An impeccable sense of timing

A cane, scepter or other prop with which to strike fear into the hearts of your fellow man

A cache of stories and jokes that are little more than thinly veiled barbs at your enemies, to be told indignantly and often

A stable of well-kept sycophantic courtiers to continuously remind you of your superiority and moral virtue

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

W Virginia Redneck Shoots Japanese Store Owner

(W Virginia) "Go back to China you dirty Korean!" Redneck Ned Lambert reportedly yelled as he unloaded 2 rounds into the chest of Yoshi Takasaki, a Japanese store owner. Shortly following the incident, a mustached police spokesman called a press conference but declined to comment.


Tuesday, April 10, 2007

A Few of the World's Lesser Known Artifacts

Ask any lay person to name some of the greatest objects in Western civilization and you are likely to hear some familiar names: Leonardo's Mona Lisa, the Wright Brothers' Plane, the Sistine Chapel, and the penis on Michaelangelo's David. However, there are many lesser-known artifacts that were pivotal to the evolution of society as we know it. These objects have been relegated to the margins of history but now, in a Writing Rendezvous exclusive, they are poised to take their rightful place in the annals of our collective heritage.

Isaac Newton's Spitoon

Currently on display at the post office in Newcastle-upon Tyne, January 5 to July 12.

Newton's spitoon provides conclusive historical evidence that the theory of gravity was not dependent upon the chance encounter between Newton's forehead and a golden delicious. In fact, the theory was cultivated over years of trial and error with a yellow ceramic spitoon into which Newton attempted spit from various angles with mixed success. The holes at the top indicate that it was once anchored to the ceiling of Newton's country cottage. We can only guess that it took relatively few trials for Newton to discover that anything propelled upwards must eventually come down. Puzzled by this development, we learn from Newton's personal diary that he attempted to place the spitoon on top of the refrigerator, whereupon his unsuccessful attempts to fire loogies into the spitoon only ended up soiling his weekly shopping list. It was only after the housemaid placed the receptacle on the floor, mistaking the spitoon for Newton's chamber pot, that Newton realized the motion and trajectory of saliva and tobacco juice traveled in a predictable arc that could only be caused by gravitational fields. His diary notes a plan to reveal this discovery to the world by "loading up on milk and demonstrating in the public square," only to realize that public use of a spitoon had just been outlawed by Major League Baseball as corrosive to public morals.

Immanuel Kant's Pornography Collection

On display at the O'Farrell Theater in San Francisco from April 31-May 12.

The year 1787 is perhaps best known as the year in which the U.S. Constitution was ratified. Yet it was also the year that Kant published his seminal work, Critique of Pure Reason, in which he argued that since we cannot really know any object outside of our own a priori conceptions, we might as well spend our free time pondering fake breasts. Kant's assiduously compiled collection of skin mags provides unique insights into the evolution of transcendental idealism, and we see that any attempt to define Jenna Jameson's torso in Hume's empirical terms (flesh plus silicone plus airbrushing=an object that wouldn't fit in a duffel bag) is far better defined in ill-defined but universally accepted idealized terms (fake tits). Kant's frequent use of the term "maxim" in Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals also becomes far more understandable given the context of the reading material he kept under the mattress.

Brooks Brothers Bindlestiff Suit (for a definition of Bindlestiff, click here)

On display at the County Fair in Des Moines, Iowa, February 12-October 1.

Commonly known as the oldest surviving men's clothier in the U.S., Brooks Brothers was the first clothing retailer to utilize division of labor, and introduced Americans to the polo shirt and (shudder) seersucker suits. Shortly after dropping its original logo, which depicted Lady Liberty dropkicking an Irishman shaped like a giant beer barrel, Brooks Brothers introduced the Bindlestiff Suit to appeal to the rapidly growing market of indigent wanderers, who made money by singing Harold Arlen songs while prancing around on roller skates with wax lips. The suit and jacket were sold as separates. Brown and blue patches came standard, but gingham and pinstripe patches were only available as accessories. The bindlestiff suit was also designed to self-destruct if the wearer ever attempted to play tennis or croquet. Popularized by the artistic photos of Dorothea Lange during the Great Depression, the Bindlestiff Suit went out of fashion once per capita GDP rose past the price of a box of Cracker Jack. The Bindlestiff has made periodic comebacks during various Republican presidencies, but has gradually been displaced by other brands (e.g., Phat Farm) that have greater appeal to the modern lower income classes.

Life In The Fast Lane by Rex Larry Champion

Sometimes guys stop me on the street and ask me "what's it like on the top?"

My answer is always simple: "It's better than where you are now, and it's better than you can ever imagine."

Maybe that sounds harsh. But it's not.

You see, I want you to be hungry. You'll never take it up a notch if you don't hunger for success.

Some guys hunger for food. I hunger for success.

Now that I'm at the top I can look down at all the puny nancy boys below, running around chasing their own tails.

Most of them will never take it up a notch because they're not hungry.

I thought about this for a long time and then I discovered something.

If you never had a burger before, you would never hunger for burgers.

And then the big secret came to me.

Most guys have never tasted success.

That's right.

Most guys know something is missing from their lives, but they don't have any real hunger for success.

THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT SUCCESS IS, so they CAN'T hunger for it.

That's how this all got started.

As a supplement to the RL Champion Ultimate Turbo 20-Notch System™, I have decided to assemble a new guide.

Get ready for The RL Champion Guide To Life In The Fast Lane: The 21st Notch.

By sharing the lifestyle I have achieved for myself, I hope to give all of the nancy boys out there a taste of success.

Once guys taste my SUCCESS, they will forever HUNGER FOR SUCCESS.

Then all they need to do is buy the RL Champion Ultimate Turbo 20-Notch System™

If you follow this system, before long you'll be able to hang with THE BIG BOYS, and you too will learn to live life in the fast lane.

The RL Champion Guide To Life In The Fast Lane: The 21st Notch

Some guys walk to the breakfast table. I drive. As soon as I get out of bed in the morning, I take some supplements and then I hop into my Porsche and drive to my kitchen.

Once I'm there I don't eat just any old breakfast. Some guys eat coffee and donuts. I eat eggs and juice. Pretty basic you think, right? Well you haven't seen the way Rex Larry Champion does eggs. For one, I make sure to always have fresh egg laying hens in my kitchen. Store-bought eggs are full of girly hormones like estrogen and the protein isn't in it's most POTENT form. I always use fresh eggs from hens. Most guys cook their eggs and eat them, but I inject them. I always inject my eggs into my leg or buttocks muscle for maximum potency and performance. After I inject myself with eggs, I take some supplements and make some fresh juice. I have exotic fruit trees from the rain forrest in my kitchen and I always make fresh-squeezed juice. You have to juice it. Juice it out.

Once I'm done with breakfast, I pick a different car, usually my Lamborghini, and I drive to the bathroom for my morning dump. Because all of the food I eat is so potent, I usually need some extra help, so I take some more supplements to help me do my business. One time a salesman at Sears explained to me, the most important thing about shopping for a toilet is SIZE. Now that I'm successful, I have a toilet as big as a swimming pool. My bathroom is probably as big as your house. Some guys read when they're on the crapper, but I have live entertainment. The show changes every week. Last week I had Siegfried and Roy over but I had to fire them because they seemed a little bit too comfortable in my bathroom. Usually I'm in there for 45 minutes to an hour. Most guys use toilet paper, I use pure silk interlaced with gold thread. The gold helps me keep extra clean. Next I wash my hands in a waterfall.

Now it's time to WORK OUT!!!

I don't drive to the gym, the gym drives to me. The RL Champion Ultimate Turbo Max Ultra Custom Gym is on wheels and wherever it is in the world, it drives back and docks to my house at exactly 10am every day.

I warm up by doing 20,000 pushups while shouting "no excuses" as loud as I can.

Then it's time for the real workout. Most guys breathe regular air when they're working out. I have an oxygen tank hooked up with a special blend of maximum potency air molecules. Between sets I take more supplements and practice the visualization techniques described in the RL Champion Ultimate Turbo 20-Notch System™ I imagine the bulge in my mind and I really bulge it. Bulge it out. I always achieve maximum pumps in my workouts. I have mastered the technique of ultimate performance for ultimate results and ultimate satisfaction. I have 15 trainers on staff to motivate me while I lift and to spot for me. It takes 10 men to spot for me when I bench. I am a champion. Rex Larry Champion.


After I lift, I take some injections and I get a sports massage. Most guys only go for an hour or 90 minutes when they get a massage. I go for 5 hours. Whatever it is, whatever is going on, they've got to massage it. Massage it out. After my massage I take some supplements and I take a power nap. Most guys take their naps on a bed or on a couch. I go into the zero gravity levitation chamber and use powerful magnets to float in the air while I sleep. This allows me to achieve maximum results.

It's time to go to the office and get some work done. I take my helicopter or drive my Ferrari to the office. I work on the top floor of the tallest building in Santa Monica and I can see the ocean out my window. Most guys will never experience a view like this. I write an article or two for Writing Rendezvous, and meet with my sales manager to go over my numbers. Everyone on my sales team has been practicing the RL Champion Ultimate Turbo 20-Notch System™ and our numbers are shooting through the roof.

After work I have dinner. Most guys eat Black Angus or their wife's meatloaf. I fly in international chefs to prepare world class meals. Once the meal is complete, I instruct the chefs to load my meal into a special machine where it is compressed into pill form. Yesterday I had 6 pills of kobe beef and jumbo Australian lobster tail with white truffle butter. Putting the food into pill form saves me time and increases its potency and performance. Flavor is for nancy boys. It's all about maximum potency and performance.

After dinner I go to sleep. My bed is the size of a basketball court and I have 30,000 thread-count sheets specially made for me by NASA. My sheets even have my picture on it. Now how cool is that. How many guys get to have their own picture on their sheets? After I hit the hay, I still get up 3 or 4 times in the night to take supplements, but this doesn't disturb my sleep. I sleep like a baby becasue I know that I'm a champion. Rex Larry Champion. Most guys dream about other people's lives. When I dream, I dream about my own life. You have to dream it. Dream it out.

I hope you learned something, nancy boys.

I hope you are HUNGRY.


Now that you have that hunger for success, it's time to go out and buy the RL Champion Ultimate Turbo 20-Notch System™

Remember, "Today you feel the pump, tomorrow you taste the glory. As yesterday falls to dust, your results surge through the clouds of forgotten memories of weakness if you believe you can achieve it. Achieve it out."

**Exclusive** Gary Condit Throws Hat In Ring

Gary Condit made the formal announcement on his blog after filing with the FEC earlier today. "I'm In" he wrote in a short message addressed to friends and supporters.

Gary Condit (D-CA) served in the House of Representatives from 1989-2003 and was known for being one of the most conservative democrats in the House. Condit was handily defeated in his 2002 reelection bid after being investigated as a person of interest in the mysterious disappearance of Chandra Levy, a young intern whom he lied about and subsequently admitting to having an affair with. Chandra Levy's remains were found in a Washington DC park in May, 2002 and her death was declared a homicide. While a strong veil of suspicion remains, Condit was never named an official suspect and the case remains unsolved.

Condit's White House bid is sure to come as a shock to the political world where analysts considered his future to be about as bright as Mark Foley and Jim Traficant.

Writing Rendezvous has gained exclusive access to part of an unpublished interview set to come out next week.

"I'm not a perfect man" Condit told the Sacramento Bee "I may have done certain things that I regret. But it's time for this country to move forward. The working class people of this country don't miss Chandra Levy, they never met her, what they care about is affordable health care, the minimum wage, and a fair tax policy that taxes wealth over work. As president of the United States, the first thing I will do is disband the FBI, and then I will raise the minimum wage, repeal the Bush tax cuts for the wealthiest Americans, and I pledge to pass a comprehensive bill guaranteeing health care for all Americans which includes a package to provide free prescription drugs for our seniors."

Writing Rendezvous correspondent Harry The Partridge caught up with Condit in the parking lot and asked him a pointed question before pooping on his car. "That's a very ambitious agenda you have there, Mr. Condit, don't you think you'll have trouble getting congress on board to support your plan?"

"Oh, they'll be on board, or else." A wild-eyed Condit snarled as he ducked into his car.

If Gary Condit does beat the odds, he will certainly not be the first politician to survive lethal scandal. Sen. Edward Kennedy (D-MA) weathering Chappaquiddick would seem the most notable analogue, but does Gary Condit have the Kennedy touch? Only time will tell.


Six New Knock Knock Jokes By Harry The Partridge

Knock Knock

Who's There?

An Amish man, I need to take a leak and use your phone.

An Amish man, I need to take a leak and use your phone who?

It's not a joke you asshole, open the goddamn door, I really need to go.

Knock Knock

Who's There?

Jehovahs Witness

Jehovahs Witness Who?

Jehovahs Witness EVERYBODY. For instance, we witnessed you stealing flowers from our church *cough cough*. Now, if you'll just argue with me about scripture for a few minutes while my associate breaks into your car and steals your stereo, we can just about call it even.

Knock Knock

Who's There?

Interrupting conservative talk radio host

Interrupting conservative ta-

Shut up you America-hating, communist, Islamo-fascist loving, gay sex promoting, moral relativist, flag-burning, tax and spend LIBERAL TRAITOR!

Knock Knock

Who's There?


Trump who?

You can trump whomever you'd like, but how about you start with that fat untalented slob, Rosie.

Knock Knock

Who's There?


Imus who?

Imusta really fucked things up. Now folks are saying I make Michael Richards look like Malcolm X.

Knock Knock

Who's There?

Ryan Seacrest

I'm sorry, the Log Cabin Republicans meeting is next door

Monday, April 9, 2007

**Exclusive** Don Imus Enters Rehab

A publicist for nationally syndicated radio windbag Don Imus has confirmed it. Don Imus this afternoon checked himself into an illustrious rehab facility in Palm Springs, Florida.

Imus caused an uproar this week by calling the Rutgers women's basketball team "nappy-headed hos". Kowtowing to pressure from civil rights leaders including the Reverends Al Sharpton and Jessie Jackson, CBS and NBC both announced they will be suspending Imus from the airwaves for 2 weeks due to his racist remarks.

News of Imus' entry into the luxurious Florida treatment facility casts doubt onto whether he will return to reclaim his chair at the end of the alloted 2 week punishment. An Imus aide speaking on the condition of anonymity told reporters from Writing Rendezvous that Imus was looking forward to "at least a good month or two of swimming, massage, tennis, and gourmet food delivered poolside while he sorts out his demons."

"I'm sorry for what I said, ok?" Imus told Al Sharpton earlier today "I'm not a racist. I have a problem with addiction. Now, if you'll please excuse me. Can you get your assistant, sugar tits over there, to get my keys, I have a plane to catch."


Sunday, April 8, 2007

One Acts: Keeper of the Keys

[Curtain rises to reveal Barry Lewis, a recently deceased rug salesman from Plainsboro, New Jersey, as he emerges from an escalator that recedes into a fluffy mass of clouds. The dulcet tones of Rod Stewart can be heard wafting through the air. He finds himself facing a giant portal perfectly rendered from flawless pearl and backlit by a bright white light. In front of the gate stands an elderly man dressed in flowing white robes. The man squints into a massive, leather-bound book resting on top of a wooden lectern. He removes a ballpoint pen from behind his ear and yawns lazily. People are standing in front of the lectern and grouped behind a yellow line three feet away from it.]

St. Peter: Lew-, Lewin? Aw, for Christ's sake, look at this handwriting. Is that an "s"? Lewis? Do we have a Barry Lewis?

Barry: That's me!

St. Peter: Approach the counter please. Do you have form 3L filled out already?

Barry: Uh, they just told me to come here. Was there a sign or something?

St. Peter: It shoudla come by post. Was the package shaped like a large string instrument or more like a pitchfork? Crap, I knew I should've sprung for delivery confirmation.

Barry: It might have went to my P.O. box. They can't accept large packages. Can I fill it out up here?

St. Peter: [grunts] Well, move to the side so that I can get some more people through.

[Barry takes a pen attached to the lectern by a rubber band and madly starts scribbling on the form. In the meantime an emaciated young African girl hands St. Peter a form and is waved through. She is followed by a jowled man in a business suit, who is pointed in the direction of a large trap door flanked by a large red lever and emanating sulphuric clouds. Muffled screams periodically leak out of the door.]

Barry: Alright, done. I wasn't sure what to put for line 64 because I haven't filed this year's taxes yet, so I just left it blank.

St. Peter: [squints at sheet] Hmm, so you're a rug salemsan from Plainsboro? Well at least if you get the trap door it won't be a major step down.

Barry: Har, har. Listen, can we get down to business?

St. Peter: Sorry. Ok, well since you don't have all the forms with you I have to ask you a series of questions. Most of this stuff is pretty pro forma, but we gotta keep appearances you know.

Barry: Hey, I tried to get a tattoo in Massachusetts on a Sunday once, I understand what you mean.

St. Peter: Have you ever used performance enhancing drugs? This includes, but is not limited to, human growth hormone, winstrol, and androstenedione.

Barry: No..are you sure you have the right Barry? The last name is Lewis...

St. Peter: Look, buddy, I'm just reading off the sheet. If Mother Theresa was here, she'd get the same questions. Can I continue?

Barry: Yeah, let's get through this as quickly as we can though. I think I made the mistake of inhaling somehwere in the troposphere and I really need to use facilities.

St. Peter: Have you ever been convicted of crime or been held liable for damages in any of the civil torts covered under Table 3.A? [St. Peter mutters, pulls a giant tome out from under the lectern, and starts flipping through the pages] They really need to index these things.

[St. Peter continues to flip as a line starts forming behind Barry. "Come on!" shouts someone from the queue]

Barry: Look, I think I got a DUI and a few missed credit card payments. One time I ate at Chevy's and split before the bill arrived. Shouldn't that cover it?

St. Peter: [Ignoring him] I really should call the county about this one...

Barry: It's 5:03, no one's gonna be answering phones now in a public office. They work French hours. Besides, do I look like Eichmann here? Is my name Pol Pot? Can we move on?

[The crowd is practically in full rebellion now, and some begin to push their way down the escalator. Barry grabs his crotch and starts lightly jogging in place]

Barry: Look, how much more do we have left? I'm about two minutes away from renal failure here.

St. Peter: [to Barry] Wait a second. [To the crowd] Stop there, you can't go down that way! [He starts moving towards the jostling crowd. A wayward elbow sweeps his glasses off and he drops to his knees, groping]

Barry: Look, Pete, I'm going to head in and take a leak. I'll settle with you tomorrow. If you need some new lenses, I know a great guy in West Windsor who can get you a great deal.

[Barry pushes open the gate and jogs inside, grabbing his crotch. The crowd continues to surge down the escalator, except for a few people carrying homemade knives and wearing prison jumpsuits, who make a beeline for the pearly gates. A lawyer can be seen writing and crossing out in the leather-bound book. St. Peter is still groping around for his glasses.]


Saturday, April 7, 2007

Ultimate Potency and Performance, A Special Feature By Rex Larry Champion

Have you ever wondered what it would take to achieve Potency and Performance? Don't get me wrong now. I'm not talking about just any kind of Potency and Performance. I'm talking about ULTIMATE Potency and Performance.

Maybe you tried to achieve Ultimate Potency and Performance before, but you just weren't gaining the RESULTS you wanted?

I wondered about this for years until finally I had the big break though that changed everything, forever!

For most guys Ultimate Potency and Performance is just a pipe dream. I know it was for me.

That was then.
But now, I know the truth.

The sorry fact is, dream-snatchers want you to forever vanquish your own glory with words of defeat.

Don't listen to them.

Follow the program and you can work it out.

Max is key.

It's all about the Max.

Maximize. Max it. Max it out.

Follow the max and you can begin to understand the maximum peek powerhouse that fuels Ultimate Potency and Performance for Ultimate Satisfaction.

The search for Ultimate Potency and Performance led me far and wide, but now I know that Ultimate Potency and Performance is within every man's grasp.

Remember, you have to believe it to achieve it. Believe it. Achieve it out.

There's no room for excuses.

Nancy boys don't know how to Take It Up A Notch and that's a sorry fact.

I wondered about this for years.

And then I discovered the truth.

I realized their problem is learning.

You can't learn your way to Ultimate Potency and Performance.

If you learn, you can forget. So don't waste your time learning.

If you never learn, you can never forget.

If you never forget, you will know everything.

It's all in your gut. So go with your gut. Work your gut. Gut it. Gut it out.

You're on your way.

I know you want to know the big secret for Ultimate Potency and Performance, but it's too powerful to just give away.

For more information you have to buy the RL Champion Ultimate Turbo 20-Notch System™

Don't wait.

Ultimate Potency and Performance for Ultimate Satisfaction is a reality, you just need to grab it. Grab it out.

Remember, "Today is a mystery, tomorrow is a dream. If you let your yesterday fade away, satisfaction will follow those who follow themselves."

Six Not Particularly Well-Timed Knock Knock Jokes By Harry The Partridge

They say timing is everything. I say better late than never. Besides, some things (like Nick Nolte's mugshot) never get old.

Knock Knock

Who's there?


Mel who? Mel??? Shit honey, is that Mezuzah still on the front door? Quick, call the fire department!

Knock Knock

Who's there?

George Allen.

George Allen who?

Listen macaca, just open the goddamn door, I have a deer's head and a flaming bag of dog doo with your name on it.

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Lou Dobbs and 25 INS agents

Lou Dobbs and 25 INS agents who?

Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you, we just want to buy some tacos from your cart. Haha, just kidding, you're on TV and you're under arrest.

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Michael Moore... Hello? Knock knock... Hello? Are you there? Knock knock. I just want to ask you a few questions. Knock knock. Hello? Knock knock. Knock knock.

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Yo, it's me. Open up. My screen name is sexystud4kids, I'm here dude, I brought rope and Hennessy, come on and open the door, you're scaring me. This had better not be that Dateline NBC Catch a Predator shit.

Oh hi Senator, come on in.

Knock Knock

Who's there?

I saw your ad on craigslist.

I saw your ad on craigslist who?

Shit, who am I kidding, I'm here to distract you while my friend steals your car stereo.

Global War On Terror Sinks

(Washington) The House Armed Services Committee has decided to finally nix the annoying catch-phrase "The Global War on Terror", eliminating it from the 2008 defense authorization bill in favor of more specifically worded operations such as "the war in Afghanistan" and "the war in Iraq". While this move has many positive functions, it may be politically moot at this point.

Following September 11th, Americans consistently ranked the global war on terror as their #1 concern. Today, more than five years after 9/11, the nation's priorities appear to have changed. According to a new Sasquatch/RLC poll, the global war on terror has completely slipped from the top 10 list for the first time since 9/11.

Wars America cares about today, a ranking:

#1) The war on cellulite
#2) The war on personal consumption habits of people who speak publicly about global warming
#3) The war on that fat kid who keeps on stealing my school lunch
#4) The war in Iraq
#5) The war on homosexuals
#6) The war on performance enhancing drugs in professional sports
#7) The war on children who speak spanish
#8) The war on transfats
#9) The war on the history channel, probably WWI but I decided to watch Crank Yankers instead
#10) The war on those damn flag burning liberal traitors
#11) The global war on terror

Friday, April 6, 2007

The Greatest of All Time Takes it Up a Notch

Ask Sasquatch

Q: Sasquatch, have you heard the one about the paleontologist and the proctologist out on a date?
A: No, but I'm sure they found true love, they have a lot in common.  They're both obsessed with looking up my ass.

Q: What do you make of Rudy Guliani's penchant for dressing in drag?
A: He seems like a nice enough chap, but I think the man is misinformed.  We should all agree he'd find a more comfortable home on Downing Street than on Pennsylvania Ave.

Q: Speaking of the limeys, what do you think about the 15 British servicemen and woman held captive and released by Iran this week?
A: I think Ayatollah Ali Khamenei needs to invest in a few good tailors, those suits looked horrible.  Just goes to show what can happen when you don't allow jews in your country.

Q: Do you think there will ever be peace and stability in the middle east?
A: Hahahaha, oh sorry, you were being serious.  Let's just say I see Madeline Albright winning a bikini contest before I see that.

Q: What do you like to drink?
A: Goat's blood or brandy on the rocks, it depends on the occasion and what kind of mood I'm in.

Q: Strange.  Mel Gibson gave me that same answer when I asked him the same.
A: You know Mel is gay, don't you?  Like that's any secret in this town.  Ha.

Q: I know Tom Cruise is, but Mel?
A: Yeah, Mel's batting for the wrong team.  I met him in rehab, he's a great guy, but he's queer.  When I met him he was pretending to be a proctologist.

Q: I think I'm going to just ignore the last part of that.  So anyway, uhh, yeah.  So Sasquatch, you were in rehab?
A: Yeah, I kicked a midget down a flight of stairs and my publicist said it would be a smart career move if I checked into rehab for a while.

Q: That's horrible.  You kicked a midget?
A:  Matt Serra was in my way, what's a proto-ape supposed to do?

Q: Are you normally a violent creature?
A: It's funny you ask.  You know, those revisionist naturalists over at the Discovery Channel are waging a smear campaign against me.  I'm misunderstood, I'm a gentle giant, I'm a vegetarian so they say. NO I'M NOT!  I'm a savage beast.  I like to feast on uncooked flesh and I've been known to rough up a hooker or two in my day.

Q: Wow.  You and Mel must have really hit it off.
A. Ha!

Q: Sasquatch, what does the world need now?
A: Love, sweet love.

Q: Do you wear boxers or briefs?
A: I'm a sasquatch, I usually go unclothed.

Q: Would you consider yourself a nudist then?
A: Yes.

Q: What do you think of the genocide in Darfur?
A: I think George Clooney isn't doing enough to stop it.

Q: Are you going to go watch Ocean's 13 when it comes out this summer?
A: Hell yeah.

Q: I'm getting kind of hungry, lets say we go get a bite to eat, do you know any good places around here?
A: How about Wendy's?

Q: Ok.