Some Favorite Fan Mail

Hello, my name is Nick Wiersum and I am a freshman at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. I am writing you to let you know that I really appreciate and admire the work that you all do. I wake up each morning to "September" and have my own little dance party in my room while I get dressed and brush my teeth.
- Nick Wiersum

I came across the website a couple of weeks ago, and I have been hooked since then. The thing that impresses me the most – and inspires and motivates me beyond belief – is your age and your background! I am a South African and live in a small town called Krugersdorp.
- Quinn da Matta

Hey, My name is Summer, and this isn't my profile... I was just wondering if you really did stomp on that guiene pig in that video you have up on ebaums world... or if (hopefully) that was a stunt...
- Summer

Right now, I'm having problems with my social life. Im the kid that everyone knows, but Im not quite in the "Popular Bunch" (I would never want to be) I had quite a few friends. But now, for some reason, everyone forgot about me. No one talks to me. And it doesnt feel very good. But ever since I discovered you guys, everything is ok. You guys make everything better. And I wanted to thank you guys.
- Keyser Soze

Very funny. You're disowned.
- Robert Reich (to Sam after seeing "Shortbox's Shortcomings."

My name is J-R Johnson which probably won't mean much to you, however my father is Ralph Johnson of Earth Wind and Fire. I recently viewed episode 10 of your internet video series and I wanted to say that I was really impressed with what you guys did. For a long time I was a bit dissapointed that EWF never had any videos of its popular songs. A part of me is really happy that you guys did this video plus the fact that you are genuinely talented. Anyhow I sent a link of your skit to my father, I am sure he will get a kick out of it, as I did.
- J-R Johnson

Dutch West Poetry

(As improvised on the 6/12/06 podcast.)

so deep
in my body
especially the dorsal part
so long

impenetrable diamonds
fucking my thorax
fucking my cloacae

bubble burst
coral releases happiness
there it is
that shiny wing
i need to borrow fifty dollars

tiny heavens
breaking leavens
feeble tatas
tumultuous meow meows

duck duck goose
sam in a noose

Sara Heinze: An Informative Article - We're All Going To Die

Man, if there is one thing I didn’t ask for this past holiday season it was bird flu. I had plenty of time to catch up on my bird flu facts, but, still, the world is apparently ending and I am glued to the tube waiting for bird flu bomb to drop, go figure. You were probably out seeing the seven wonders of the world buying prostitutes and fulfilling any other “before I die...” wishes you have so I thought I’d give you the facts about how we’re all going to die a horrible bird flu death.

So the deal is ducks and chickens are getting this “flu” that makes them sick and die. No big deal right? Mad cow, blah, blah, blah, and all the vegans were having a laugh at our expense… and then it passed, right? Oh no, friends! If you happen to be the unlucky fuck that’s got to clean the 900 chicken coups on some farm in China you’re SCREWED! Unlucky fuck touches enough bird shit? BAM! Bird flu.

At first I was like, “Phew, dodged a bullet, I don’t touch bird shit.” But then I found out the whole bird flu thing is supposedly at some point the strain will mutate and be able to pass from human to human. LAME! But wait. Then I found out its only really being found in Asia at this point so I was like “SCORE, I am afraid of Planes and Asians, no bird flu for me!” Then CNN told me that the more sad fucks that get bird flu the more likely it is that humans will become the “mixing vessel” for some sort of mutant bird flu virus. Damn.

So is there anyway we can all avoid a horrible bird flu death? Not really. Apparently every century there are about four flu disasters that kill millions of people. WHY DIDN’T THEY PREPARE US FOR THIS SHIT IN SCHOOL? Maybe they did, in 1997 (I probably missed the memo because I was super into the Spice Girls and a boy named Kevin). There was bird flu-type-thing in Hong Kong that was quelled only by the killing of the entire poultry population. I bet P.E.T.A. was so pissed. Anyway, basically, the experts say the bird flu is coming. And we’re all going to die.

Our only out is an anti viral drug, which is super expensive and the government has already said they don’ t have enough and can’t possibly make enough. This is all sounding eerily similar to Tomb Raider 2 when the dude wants to open Pandora’s box because he’s the only one who’s got the antidote to whatever’s in the box. I smell conspiracy. Conspiracy or no, bird flu’s-a-coming so buy your prostitutes now and make your peace with Jesus cause WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE! But, hey look on the bright side of things. At least we can all die with the knowledge that Pat Robertson was wrong. Gays weren't the
downfall of society. Birds were.

Nick Authenrieth: Guys Named Terry

Every once in a while, our friend Nick Googles peoples' names and posts the results. This experiment was "Terry."

Caption Jam #17: My Cousin Toby

"Slave cake." - Tom K

"toby, why is your nipple shaped like a fork. "
"shut up, and don't drop my colostomy bag!" - Spider_Erik

If you look closely at the picture the true story will reveal itself. You see the tall white kid is one of the black kid's many flunkeys who thought he was cool just because he was black. Just looking at their clothes will tell you this. Now...the black kid was in the process of talking to his white lacky while having a snack. In the midst of this some asshole decided to take a picture. And while the white kids tall dumb ass was happy to get on camera...His black boss...i mean "friend" was thinkin "I know this stupid son of a bitch is not about to take my picture in the middle of my cake and conversation. Yes this motha fucka did. I'm gone whip his ass as soon as I'm done with my cake. - Dominus Natus

Jordan Hall: Catmandoo

There is a woman across the street from me who has been coming out of her house with nothing but a soiled terrycloth bathrobe. Periwinkle if I’m not mistaken. Before you gents go the distance and begin contriving fantasies let me tell you this is not a gal you want to wake up next to. Coyote Ugly only scratches the surface. Her matted hair and loose love handles say ‘look at your own risk’.

She comes out of her rot-iron door, slumps down her three steps and turns to look into her tiny, dismal front yard. She’s got the look of Kathy Bates in Misery but with less pizzazz. Her droopy chin matches her droopy moustache. A kind of “Yeah, she’s my aunt, but no one in the family really talks to her.” vibe.

I can only assume her yard used to hold something of great pride or joy because every time she comes out, without fail, she simply stands over the itty-bitty fence that separates the yard from the sidewalk and stares blankly at the rust colored wood chips that fill the space. Perhaps she is looking forward to something but I have an eerie feeling this is not a hopeful person. She never stays more than a few minutes but usually long enough so a gust of wind can blow her robe just a bit too high so to give any curious neighbor all the info they need. Sometimes she’ll smoke a few drags of a cigarette and get lost in her meditation. Other times she’ll bring out a Dixie cup and sip from it the same uninterested way she smokes her Parliaments. She’ll mutter something, stare, mutter something else, look for a response and then leave.

Just yesterday she brought out a bowling ball bag and set it next to the dormant bush at the center of her yard. She finished her routine and climbed her way to safety atop her landing. With a look to the letter-box and a final glance at the bag that said, “If only I were a princess…” she disappears into her home. I was confused until the wind knocked over and the bag and to my surprise a healthy tabby cat bounded from the leather. It wasn’t the fact that this woman had put a cat in bowling ball bag, but rather that it appeared healthy. How did a maiden with such a lackluster aura care so well for a feline? I put another hash mark on the crazy-cat-lady count and thought nothing more about her, until the cat began its work. This thing was a terror. It zig-zagged around the yard in a frantic craze, spitting up woodchips with its abrupt changes in direction and sudden stops. In and out of the bushes, over and back on the fence; a tornado of an animal. Then complete stillness. I have seen a cat act like this before. On my grandfather’s farm a cat had fallen into a five-gallon bucket filled with discarded tractor oil. It lived a violent and tortured couple of days before its fur fell out and finally went mad. Scurrying in circles, tripping over its own tail, flopping in the dust trying to catch its sanity; oddly similar to this cat now. I hoped it hadn’t suffered the same fate and thought the odds we’re pretty good against it seeing as how I’ve never seen a tractor on my street. But I wouldn’t put anything past these gals from Queens. It’s a big borough, lots dark places.

When it all quieted down the cat seemed to be in command of its senses, maybe it hadn’t fallen in a large bucket of toxic liquid. In fact the truth is quite the opposite. When the cat emerged from the bushes in the yard and made its way up the steps to the front door a rat nearly three quarters its size hung from its furry jaws. The cat laid it down on the welcome matt and returned to the bushes, for what I assumed would be a well-deserved rest. Not yet, anyway. Three more times the cat came from the bushes carrying rodents of varying sizes, placing all of them in a mound on the welcome matt. If you have never seen a huddle of dead rodent you should. It fills one with a sense of gratitude and justice. The cat went back to his bag and I hope took a real catnap. One with dreams of tuna sandwiches and bathtubs filled with warm milk.

So thank you and I’m sorry lady across the street. Thank you for liberating our block from those diseased creatures and sorry I thought you were just another crazy-cat-lady. But please, a t-shirt. The weather is getting warmer and my parents may visit.

Caption Jam #16: Red Handed

After setting the lobster traps and making ready to return to port, the captain turned to me and said, "some day the lobsters will come for us." - Friend of Clam

Thomas thought very hard about his last wish. "I wish I could be in Jessica Albas pussy non-stop for a week!" And thats the story of the man sized tampon. - Charlie Cobb

Joel's dad, an OBGYN of many years, always embarassed his son when he'd bring out the vagina costume to teach his class sex-ed. "Now kids, imagine that my arms are the fallopian tubes and my body is the cervix. Who can guess what my head is?!" - drewbix

Really Bad Novel First Lines

From San Jose State University.

10. "As a scientist, Throckmorton knew that if he were ever to break wind in the echo chamber, he would never hear the end of it."

9. "Just beyond the Narrows, the river widens."

8. "With a curvaceous figure that Venus would have envied, a tanned, unblemished oval face framed with lustrous thick brown hair, deep azure-blue eyes fringed with long black lashes, perfect teeth that vied for competition, and a small straight nose, Marilee had a beauty that defied description."

7. "Andre, a simple peasant, had only one thing on his mind as he crept along the East wall: 'Andre creep... Andre creep... Andre creep.'"

6. "Stanislaus Smedley, a man always on the cutting edge of narcissism, was about to give his body and soul to a back alley sex-change surgeon to become the woman he loved."

5. "Although Sarah had an abnormal fear of mice, it did not keep her from eeking out a living at a local pet store."

4. "Stanley looked quite bored and somewhat detached, but then penguins often do."

3. "Like an over-ripe beefsteak tomato rimmed with cottage cheese, the corpulent remains of Santa Claus lay dead on the hotel floor."

2. "Mike Hardware was the kind of private eye who didn't know the meaning of the word 'fear'; a man who could laugh in the face of danger and spit in the eye of death -- in short, a moron with suicidal tendencies."

1. "The sun oozed over the horizon, shoved aside darkness, crept along the greensward, and, with sickly fingers, pushed through the castle window, revealing the pillaged princess, hand at throat, crown asunder, gaping in frenzied horror at the sated, sodden amphibian lying beside her, disbelieving the magnitude of the frog's deception, screaming madly, 'You lied!'"

Caption Jam #15: DW Live! at UCB

After many hours locked in a room with Genediah, Simon and Benezbela, Chris Martin pissed his pants in fear that he would never see the light of day again... and it was all yellow... - Chamoru32

They had always stuck by their decision and ignored the media and friends, but twenty years later, they realized that naming their children Apple and Moses would have lasting reprecussions. - kickinkevin

Seven and a half minutes after the onstage deaths of both Vincent Peone and Matt Moore, Dutch West forged ahead with rehearsels for their May 22nd show with Coldplay frontman Chris Martin filling in for both of the former members. When questioned about Mr. Martin's credentials, Sam Reich (DW fuhrer) was heard to remark, "He does this really funny bit with a banana peel, and his Christopher Walken impression is second to none." - specialed

Peter Duffy: Maybe We Won't Make Great Pets

Clive. George. Hannah. Sonya. Oscar. Stella. Bridget

Friends, you ask? No. Relatives? Not exactly. Kids? Not unless one of them is a goat. No, what these are examples of is what is slowly killing this country and indicative of it’s collective lack of imagination. That’s right – this is what we are naming our pets.

In a commonly understood definition, a pet name is a sign of affection derived off of ones proper name. Not unlike a nickname – just a little gayer. In fact, we are in a dreaded creative slump when it comes to nicknames as well. In the sporting world, either ones initials (MJ in the case of Michael Jordan) or the simple combination of the first letter of a first name and the first syllable of the last name (A-Rod in the case of Yankees third basemen Alex Rodriguez) are what constitute the majority of these “nicknames”. Fortunately the Seattle Mariners have broken that trend with “King Felix” the nickname of pitching phenom Felix Hernandez – who, in the Alex Rodriguez template, could have had a much different, far more unfortunate nickname. In fact, this trend, coupled with the continued crackdown on organized crime, puts us at risk of losing our last natural resources of memorable nicknames.

Back to pets. Many consider pets to be lifelong companions and practically family members. Over the years, this relationship has proven a boon to the creativity of the American people as we strived to relegate these inferior beings in their place by giving them ridiculous names. Pookie. Snoopy. Mr. Mxyzptlk. These names have been vital to making it clear who stands where in the pecking order of natural selection. If there is one thing and one thing only that the Bible tells us – and there is – it’s that to name someone or something, be it off-spring, animals, or Wars-On-Christmas, is to have power over it. If – or rather when – we are conquered by a marauding alien race, it will be vital for us to demonstrate to our new overlords that we are not the bottom of the food chain and are thus vital partners in helping our new masters cultivate their domain. One would think that they could simply see the difference between us and animals but I feel it is better to play it safe – Earthlings might “all look the same” to them.

The lax attitude toward pet names implicitly invites animals to be considered our equals. As an ardent speciesist, I find this reprehensible. After all, George Jefferson had the good sense to call his wife, Louise, Weezie – I’ll be damned if I am going to call a ferret, Phil.

Caption Jam #14: What the Hell

hello ma'am my name is Dr. Hellboyshavitz and i'll be your plastic surgeon. Wow, i can see we're going to have to do some serious work here... - specialed

Baby, Once you go Orange, you never go .... er.... Ok, once you taste the Orange your mouth smells like citrus.. Ok thats not to sexy is it? No? ok... *sigh* I hate my life - Matt D

You don't look like Linda Hamilton... but you'll do. That's right... call me Vincent - Spider_Erik