WELCOME TO THE BLOG OF POPE JOHN THE TALL, LEADER OF THE ALL JOHN ALL THE TIME WORLD CHURCH


******PLEASE NOTE******

(Notice I said please.)

To those of you who are new to "the Pope" and the "AJATTWC", the following various posts are the official communications of yours truly, Pope John The Tall, or as I'm known in many circles, PJTT.

I aspired to the position of Pope of the AJATTWC several years ago, after the Roman Catholics elected Joseph Ratzinger, a German Cardinal, as their Pope; I figured if he could do it, so could I.

Despite what would seem to be a "religious" theme, I try not to play favorites: I'm satirical/irreverent about everything, in an attempt to give my readers a few yucks; that is the goal. If I haven't made you laugh, well, I tried, and I hope I'm given an "A" for the effort. (Or at least a really solid "C".)

I further hope that my faithful readers (all several of them) and any of you who wander in from the cold of the Internet, will derive much solace and spiritual awakening from my timeless prose, and, as I so often refer to it, the "soothing balm of Johnism"; if you don't, how sad for you, because I'm a pretty funny guy. (My daughter tells me, regularly, that I'm "silly"; I suspect that she's right.)

Please note that everything on my blog is meant to be fun, and in no way insulting to anyone, unless of course you're a politician, then you can assume I intended to insult you. (Hey, it goes with the job, guys; if you can't take the heat, then the harder they fall.)

Never mind.

Anyway, welcome and thanks for stopping by; please feel free to peruse to your heart's content (there is a large archive of my past posts, going back several hundred years, in the right-hand column), and please be sure to make a large donation at the door as you leave. (It's tax-deductible.)

Speaking of leaving, as I make my exit, and probably none too soon, here's something from the Book of Excretions, Apollo 13: Dodgers 6...

"Blessed are the lazy, for although they don't accomplish much, they're well rested."

Enjoy. (Or don't, it's still a free country. It is still a free country, isn't it? They haven't changed that as far as I know, have they?)





Monday, June 27, 2011

Ark Of The Convenient, Wait, Wrong Ark

A number of my faithful followers have asked that I upload a picture of myself, so that all my adoring public will have an image of my Papal wonderfulness to gaze on as often they desire. You know, as an inspiration of sorts ("Momma, don't let your babies grow up to Pope Guys."). Just trying to be the best Pope I can be.

No, actually, I'm happy to report that that is NOT a picture of your Popemeister, but of an unidentified passenger on, according to the report from Harriet Baskus on MSN.com, a US Airways flight from Ft. Lauderdale FL to Phoenix AZ, some time recently. There was no explanation in the article for the gentleman's attire, but we can assume that he was headed for Phoenix to audition for the role of "Smurfette" in the new Steven Spielberg production of the movie, "The Smurfs: At The Border"; its scheduled to star Robert DeNiro as Papa Smurf, Ashton Kutcher as the noble but conflicted Bobby Smurf, and there's a character that is known as "Asshole" in the script, and I hear Arnold ("The Sperminator") Schwartzenhooven is a lock for the part.

And frankly, I think white thigh-highs would have been much more appropriate than black with that outfit. (It just occurred to me that the last two posts I've uploaded have had pictures of a male in female's clothing at the top of the article. That's a rather disturbing trend, don't you think? And yes, as I'm writing this I'm wearing a very tasteful bra and panty set from VS, with matching Prada heels and bag. As is Harley, without the Prada bag.)

"...and let the wild rumpus begin..." (Thank you, Maurice Sendak.)

As I'm sure you're all aware by now, if you follow the exploits of the Pope and his sidekick, the Harley Dog,  the Bored Of Elders of the All John All The Time World Church sends us all over the Galaxy to spread the "soothing balm of Johnism" to troubled spots that our crack(ed) staff here at the AJATTWC headquarters identify and isolate for them.

The Bored also gets all kinds of invites for us as well: commencement addresses to give, new heads of state to be crowned, new cathedrals to be dedicated, new bishops to be ordained and new shopping malls to be opened, yes, its safe to say that the Bored gets their mileage, pardon the pun, out of the Harley Dog and I. (See picture to, let's see, my watch is on my left wrist, so that would be, yes, there to the right; mine is above, as noted previously. Not.)

They also periodically send us to look into "situations" that might require the involvement of the Pope and the vast resources ($14.56) of the AJATTWC as well, incidents such as the Great Girl Scout Cookie Fiasco we investigated earlier this year, so when one of our highly qualified but poorly paid staffers, (Dee Dee Spanxalot, my ex-girlfriend; the Bored thought it made me look magnanimous if I hired an ex-; I told her that if the Bored finds out about the busload of midgets, the sousaphone and the six tubes of axle grease, she's gone, I don't care how magnaminos, ah, magmanimus, shit, how good we look for hiring her.)

So when I got the call from my consigliore, the Right Reverend Monsignor Michael Jordan, (no, not the one who used to do Gatorade commercials), telling me that he had an interesting assignment for us, I was pumped.

"NOW where are we going, for chrissake, we just got back from Port Collection Of Trees WAH a couple of days ago," I said, happily and with much enthusiasm. (See my post from 6/23 for THAT story; as a "heads-up", it's the other story that had the picture of a cross-dressing pervert boy at the top. I promise, this is not a trend, at least I hope it isn't.)

"The Bored wants you and the HD to look into a "situation" of which they just became aware over in Europe. Some guy has built a replica of "Noah's Ark" and they want to know what's up."

"Noah's Ark? Like as in the Bible Noah's Ark?" I asked brightly.

"Yeah, I sent you an email with the link to the video. This guy is some kind of contractor over in Holland, and he built this full-scale replica of the Ark; says he had a dream once that Holland was half-flooded and that's what gave him the inspiration to build it."

"Holland is half-flooded ALL the time, how could you tell if it got worse?"

"I don't know that, PJ; all I know is that the Bored wants you guys wheels-up tomorrow morning, on your way to Europe to see the guy who built this monstrosity and find out his intentions," Mike replied.

"His intentions? Whatta' they think he's gonna' do, kidnap two of each of all the animals in the world, load them on and then wait for the next big rain? Geez. Hey, I've got an idea."

"What's that?" Mike said, suspiciously.

"Well, they just finished refitting the Dee Dee, how about if we take her instead of the Kidding for a change? Are we on a tight time-frame here?"

"No, not that I know of. How long will it take to get to Holland by boat?"

"Less time than it would take to walk. I don't know, Mike, but tell the Bored we're on our way, and just don't mention how we're going, all right?"

"Hey, you're the Pope, whatever you say."

I'm the Pope, gotta' love me.

The Dee Dee that I referred to above (see back there a few sentences) is the SS Dee Dee, the "official" yacht of the Pope Dude, and she's an awesome vessel. And NO, she's not named for my ex-girlfriend; the name is supposed to be a play on words, you know, like the old 3-1/2" computer discs or "same shit, different day". Anyway, she's a 245 foot beauty with twin Pratt-Whitney engines, capable of 5982 knots (that's 38 mph to you non-nautical types, or piR squared plus postage and handling), and sleeps 115 guests, has a swimming pool, beauty salon, casino, massage parlor, tennis courts, the Statue of Liberty, two Irish pubs and its own zip-code. Yeah, I think we'll take her this time.

So we're off to the land of the little Dutch boy, wooden shoes, levees and dikes. (Whoa, I just realized what I said; they have Jewish priests and lesbians there in HollandLand besides this Ark thing? What the hell is that all about?)

Damn, there's the Popephone again...

"PJTT...yeah, Mike, what's up?...oh, LeVITES, I thought it was, well, never mind that now...they do what?...hold back water?...so they're not lesbians?...shit...okay, I'll fix it...(large sigh of capitulation here)...is there anything else I've written that you'd like to correct?...fine, thank you." (Slams phone down.)

I hate it when he does that. (Oh, and by the way, for you Jewish history-challenged types, originally all the "priests" of the Jewish religion came from the Tribe of Levi. After I wrote it, I realized the refernece was a little TOO esoteric, even for me.)

(I understand they call those wooden shoe things the Dutch wear "clogs"; kinda' makes sense from a place that's half under water all the time, to say nothing of being 21 feet BELOW sea-level in some places. And then there's all those Jewish priests and lesbos running all over, geez, what a country.)

So Harley and I headed down to San Pedro (that's Lower Zimbaweanian for "Place Of Boats"), arrived on the dock, boarded the Dee Dee and headed south. Our course will take us east through the Panama Canal, across the Gulf of Mexico and over the Northern Atlantic to Holland; I'm figuring a crossing of two-three months, depending on the prevailing winds. Wait, I'm sorry, that's how long it took Pizarro and Cortez and all those Spaniels to get over here from Europe; it's a lot faster these days.

(Wait a minute, something's wrong with that last sentence..."Spaniels"? That's not right. I'd better fix this before I get another call from the snooty Jordan guy again.)

Spaniards. Excuse me. (Hey, RRMMJ: eat shit, dictionary boy.)

Well, I wanted to tell you the story of how Harley and I crossed the great ocean, braved jungle conditions and savage hoards to find this guy, Johan Huibers, who built the new Ark, and then give you an complete rundown of the story and how he came to be inspired to build his giant ship, but I have to close now and attend to other matters that require my Papal attention.

I just learned that the Bored received a report this morning of an ongoing police investigation taking place in Radnor PA; it seems employees of a Bed, Bath And Beyond store there found a 35-pound bag of vomit in their parking lot one morning when they arrived to open the store for business. Even more interesting, this is the SECOND bag of vomit they've found in the parking lot in the last two weeks. And I just want to know how they determined there was 35 pounds of vomit in the bag; did they weigh it?

Oh yeah, that's a call I can hardly wait to get.

Anyway, here's the link to the story of Johan Huibers and "Johan's Ark":


Oh, and I finally found out what a "cubit" is; actually, I already knew that it was a measurement of length that was used in Noah's time, I just never knew how long a "cubit" is, you know, like a "foot" is twelve inches, or an appendage at the end of your leg. (God had to tell Noah what a "cubit" was also, per Bill Cosby; apparently, he didn't know either.) According to the article, a cubit "in ancient times was the length of a man’s arm from elbow to fingertips, or roughly 18 inches".

I never knew that; I always thought a "cubit" was a small, two-headed furry rodent, wait, that's an "ebert", sorry, I always get them confused.

And I'll tell you what: building that Ark was impressive, but a guy who can produce 35 pounds of vomit, shit, that's spectacular.

Love and registration, err, regurgitation,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.

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