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?)





Showing posts with label Mercedes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mercedes. Show all posts

Monday, August 29, 2011

"...This Is Porcine Airways Flight 236, Requesting Permission To Land..."

I'd consider voting for this guy.

That slightly maniacal-looking person with his head stuck out of the Armored Personnel Carrier is the mayor of Vilnius, Lithuania, Arturas Zoukas, or as he's known around town, Clem, and that's a Mercedes Benz he's crushing the living dogpoop out of, and I'll explain why in a moment. (You'd like to know, wouldn't you? Well, tough, I'm writing the story anyway.)

My primary function as your Popemeister, here at the All John All The Time World Church, is to spread the message of the "soothing balm of Johnism", at least, that's what they told me when they interviewed/hired me for the position. (On the AJATTWC employment application, where it asks about my "position" on my last job, I told them "prone".)

My secondary function, other than to ride roughshod over the Church mascot, my roommate, sidekick, BFF and three-times-a-week sparring partner, the Harley Dog, (you can see a picture of the great beast right over there <---, oh, sorry, --->), is to provide guidance and leadership to my flock of loyal followers, all several of them, particularly in the area of influencing, ahh, excuse me, helping them make informed decisions about the various issues that confront us all, all the days of our lives, especially the young and the restless of my flock. (In fact, when I finish this post, I'm headed over to General Hospital to visit one of my "people" who's currently under the weather; it's a minor surgery thing, she'll still be bold and beautiful when she gets out.)

Hey, did I tell you guys I have tickets to see "La Boheme" next week? No?

So there I was, minding my own Pope business, when I received this email from one of my flock of followers, not to be confused with Flock Of Seagulls, a really bad rock band from back in the '80s (actually, the band wasn't that bad, but the hairdos, yike), asking me a profound legal question (yes, your Pope is also a legal expert, holding a JP degree (Juris Poopahkis), as well as my degree from the school of Hard Knocks) that I felt had implications so profound as to compel me to answer in one of my thrice-weekly posts. (Thrice? Whoa, that's a good one.)

("La Boheme" is an opera by Puccini, okay? Soap operas, get it? Geez.)

The email, and the question it contained, came from some John guy's nephew, or at least he says he's John's nephew, although I'm sure only John's sister knows for certain, and it dealt with an obscure and little known legal tenet, commonly known as the "Are You Guys Really That Dumb?", and it requires a little background information to understand the principle.

Many years ago, back in my pre-Pope days, I had occasion to work with a gentlemen who, besides being afflicted with the social stigma of being a Minnesota Vikings fan, clung to the belief that the answer to the question "If a tree fell in the forest, and no one was around, would it make a noise?" was a resounding No. (The company we were working for had no pre-employment requirement of an IQ or any common sense; yeah, they hired me too.)

I learned this fascinating bit of information one day at lunch, when said fellow employee blurted out this amazing theory, just after asking someone to pass the salt.

"Yeah," he explained, "if there's on one in the forest, then there's no eardrums for the sound waves to bounce off of". (And at the next table, another of my fellow employees sustained an injury just then, a sprain of the muscle that allows you to roll your eyes.)

I left the company not long after that; I figured, with guys like that on your team, you're probably looking at a long, losing season.

The legal theory that John's nephew (?) asked about was along the same vein: it involved the crime of "mopery", which according to The Nephew is the "exposing of one's self to a blind person." (I had heard the word defined that way previously, but I wasn't sure that was accurate, so I looked up the definition in my New American Law Dictionary and Explainer Of Obscure Legal Theories but couldn't find it; shit, I'll just make something up; he won't know the difference.)

Where these two very obscure ideas meet is at the junction of "what, are you kidding me?" Allow me to explain. (Good luck stopping me.)

A tree falls in the forest, crashing to the ground in a great flurry of leaves, breaking limbs, snapping branches and small, furry animals, like the ebert, being violently thrown to the ground from their various nests and hiding places. The only reason that the noise attendant to such an event goes unheard is the absence of organs that can receive and interpret the sound waves, which are necessarily produced by said event. (The sound waves are produced, not the organs.) The boy genius at work there even mentioned them, thereby validating the alternative to his theory. Duh.

In a similar vein, the exposure of one's genitalia to another person, despite the fact that the recipient of the "exposure" is a person not having the ability to see, is still a crime, based on intent; the inability of the "exposure recipient" to see and be offended by said exposure does not ameliorate the crime. The "exposer" still has his yaya hanging out, and in most precincts, that's illegal. Or at least a crime against the senses. (Think Rosie O'Donnell naked).

(Not bad for off the top of my head, huh?)

So the answer to the question of whether or not a tree falling in the forest makes noise, and whether or not it's a crime to expose yourself to a blind person, even if it is Tuesday, and maybe to the most profound question that faces us all in life, is this...

...I believe the Dodgers can still make a late season run at the NL West crown; hey, they have Kershaw, who's getting serious consideration for the NL Cy Young, they have Matt Kemp...well, never mind that now.

(You didn't really think I was going to give you some great, profound legal insight did you? What, are you crazy, I'm a Pope, I'm not Robert Shapiro, gimme' a break.)

Oh, the mayor up at the beginning of the article? (See up.) I just used that because I liked the picture. I like Ol' Clem, too; the reason he was squashing expensive European automobiles was to put emphasis on a city ordinance banning parking in "bike lanes", which is where the ignorant douche-bag owner of the Benz parked his car.

Yeah, I like Clem; he wanted to send a message to the city's drivers: "Park in the bike lane at your peril". Then he showed his followers "the peril".

Just as your Pope will just keep trying to show all my loyal AJATTWCers out there the peril of "stupid".

Because maybe one, or even several, of the folks out there who believe in soundless falling trees, or the theory that "well, they can't see me so it's okay" or "hey, I'm important, look at my big car, I can park anywhere I want" will read one of my posts and wake up to what assholes they really are.

(Hey, Nephew Guy, I know you asked me about mopery just to have to have some fun, so that wasn't meant for you.)

You guys ever hear of a comedian named Judy Tenuta? Very funny lady; I have no idea if she's still performing or not, but when she was, she had a line she often used in her act, right after making some thoroughly outrageous statement: "Hey, it could happen."

When pigs fly.

Love and courtrooms,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.

Monday, June 20, 2011

God Of Wind

Nudh nuh nugh nuh nuh. Hudnd nugh nuh nugh.

Shit.

Hey, it's hard to talk when your tongue's hard. (God, that was crude.)

(To which God replied, "Yes, Pope, that was extremely crude, you douche-bag.")

Sorry. That, that is an amazing-looking automobile, but we'll get to that in a moment.

Now that I can talk again, hi-ho and do the hustle, I am hereby announcing that the Harley Dog and myself, your favorite Pope Guy, are going on strike. That's right, music lovers, we're striking as a protest against the cruel and despicable manner that has characterized the way the Bored Of Elders of the All John All The Time World Church has treated your Popeamundo and HD. Especially me.

(For you newcomers to the soothing balm of Johnism, "the Harley Dog" that I referred to above is Harley, the "official" canine of the AJATTWC, as well as my backup navigator when we're onboard my "official" atomic powered rocket ship, the Royal Unionship Kidding (RU Kidding for short), sidekick and roommate. That's a lotta' hats for one dog, but he's an exceptional dog. He's not as cute as he thinks he is, either. There's a picture of him to the right...no, doofuses, your other right.)

I am steadfast in my resolve, I am firm in my beliefs and I am a registered Republican. (One of those previous statements was a blatant, disgusting, slanderous lie; hey, did you know that "Republican" backwards is Snacilpuber (pronounced Old Boring Guy Party.) No, I mean it, this is insufferable, it is intolerable, it's like the stench that the Lakers left over the entire city of Los Angeles with their performance in the second round of the playoffs against the Dallas Mavericks this year, it's...not good.

If you go ALL the way back to 1/26 of this year, and check out the essay that I posted that day, I was talking about how much I really needed a "Popemobile", you know, a slick, pimped-out ride that I could call my own. (Do the "hip" people still say "pimped" or did I just embarrass myself?) Okay, I admit, I have expensive tastes, but, hey, I'm the Pope Dude, I should be entitled, all right?

Anyway, that's where it started. Yes, I have, at various times, asked for a Porsche, a Ferrari, a Jaguar and a Schwinn World bicycle, and I understand those are very expensive vehicles, but the position of Pope is one of image, and I thought that these various autos/bicycle represented my image favorably.

The Bored Of Elders, however, did not see it that way.

After the Bored turned down as "too extravagant" all of the above "suggestions", I decided that I would make one last attempt to obtain for myself, and by so doing, enhance the image of Your Pope, a really hot ride.

So, being a typical person of our Internet age, I jumped on Google and went looking.

(A brief pause to build a moment of solemnity...)

That is a Pagani Huayra (pronounced "Oh. My. God.").

Nugh, nuh nuh, hegh uh...sorry.

The powerplant is a Mercedes Benz V12 TwinTurbo 6.0 liter designed by AMG for MB engine that develops 700 HP (SEVEN HUNDRED HORSEPOWER) that pushes the Huayra to a top end of somewhere around the Speed Of Aroma (230 MPH).

Thank you, and good night.

I stumbled onto a short video of this beast; it appears to be of a couple of tech guys rolling out a prototype vehicle. You have to check this out; this is an amazing car. From the rear it looks like a spaceship.


"Huayra" is the name of the ancient Andean God Of Holy Horsepower, Batman, They Want $1.4 Mil For That Son-Of-A-Bitch. Excuse me, God Of Wind, like as in how hard I broke same when I saw the price tag on that buggy. Those Pagani folks, they aren't bashful, I'll give them that.

What a beautiful example of the automotive art; granted that the perception of automobile building as an art requires one to get past thinking only of the functionality of the automobile, and admire certain autos as strictly objects d'art, rather than as examples of a useful, but mundane and everyday, conveyance. But once past, it is hard to imagine a more incredible exemplar of the art than this.

In other words, that is one maternal fornicator of a car, bro.

So I told the Bored, hey, I'll give up the Clippers season's tickets (oh yeah, that was hard, like giving up ringside seats to a live medical school presentation of the short piece, "The Proper Way To Perform A Colonoscopy"), and the Walmart discount card, and the $3.75 meal per diem AND the annual subscription to "DDD Beauties" (and go away and stop bothering them about a car), if they could see their way clear to allow me to purchase a...

...(a flourish of saxo, err, trumpets here please...)

...Pagani Huayra.

Just one.

And they said no. Again.

Assholes.

So Harley and I are on strike, and we aren't returning until our demands (see "***Demands***" below) are met. Or at least waved hello at.

***Demands***
            #1- a Pagani Huayra.
            #2- a lifetime subscription to "DDD Beauties"
            #3- and Harley wants a new chew toy, preferably one that squeaks

That's it.

So step up, B Of E, or me and the hound, we're outta' here, hasta la vista, bubala, which ain't Spanish for "Baby, You Can Drive My Car", one of my all time favorite Beatle tunes, okay? We're geography, dudes.

Hang on, the Popephone is ringing; it's probably the Bored calling, begging us to return.

"PJTT...hey, Mike, any news?...oh, they did?...no, I'm not surprised, I expected them to come crawling soon...they said what?......HOW long?...shit...shit...okay, we can go looking tomorrow...hey, what about the subscription...tell them I said that's cold...yeah...yeah...okay, gotta' go."

Shit.

That was my consigliore, the Right Reverend Monsignor Michael Jordan (no, not the one who always stuck his tongue out when he drove to the hoop); he tells me he checked with the Pagani people: they only make 20 Huayras a year, and they're booked up through the next millennium. And he checked with the B Of E, and they said that, in light of my exemplary performance as Pope and my extensive contributions to the field of the humanities, or as the feminists would say, the hupersonities, they will allocate funds to allow me to buy a brand new...

...Ford Focus.

Stripped down version only, though, no CD player or GPS.

My, how the fallen have mightied.

At least they approved my subscription to "DDD Beauties"; their comment to Mike, to pass along to me, was that they understood how a man of my, delicately put, limited opportunities with the opposite sex might need some form of "alternative release", and they didn't want to seem "insensitive" by denying my request.

Assholes.

(Large sigh of resignation here.)

Love and Pintos,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.

Monday, May 16, 2011

God Of Wind

Nudh nuh nugh nuh nuh. Hudnd nugh nuh nugh.

Shit.

Hey, it's hard to talk when your tongue's hard. (God, that was crude.)

(To which God replied, "Yes, Pope, that was extremely crude, you douche-bag.")

Sorry. That, that is an amazing-looking automobile, but we'll get to that in a moment.

Now that I can talk again, hi-ho and do the hustle, I am hereby announcing that the Harley Dog and myself, your favorite Pope Guy, are going on strike. That's right, music lovers, we're striking as a protest against the cruel and despicable manner that has characterized the way the Bored Of Elders of the All John All The Time World Church has treated your Popeamundo and HD. Especially me.

(For you newcomers to the soothing balm of Johnism, "the Harley Dog" that I referred to above is Harley, the "official" canine of the AJATTWC, as well as my backup navigator when we're onboard my "official" atomic powered rocket ship, the Royal Unionship Kidding (RU Kidding for short), sidekick and roommate. That's a lotta' hats for one dog, but he's an exceptional dog. He's not as cute as he thinks he is, either. There's a picture of him to the right...no, doofuses, your other right.)

I am steadfast in my resolve, I am committed to my beliefs and I am deeply wounded. No, I mean it, this is insufferable, it is intolerable, it's like the stench that the Lakers left over the entire city of Los Angeles with their performance in the second round of the playoffs against the Dallas Mavericks this year, it's...not good.

If you go ALL the way back to 1/26 of this year, and check out the essay that I posted that day, I was talking about how much I really needed a "Popemobile", you know, a slick, pimped-out ride that I could call my own. (Do the "hip" people still say "pimped" or did I just embarrass myself?) Okay, I admit, I have expensive tastes, but, hey, I'm the Pope Dude, I should be entitled, all right?

Anyway, that's where it started. Yes, I have, at various times, asked for a Porsche, a Ferrari, a Jaguar and a Schwinn World bicycle, and I understand those are very expensive vehicles, but the position of Pope is one of image, and I thought a these various autos/bicycle represented my image favorably.

The Bored Of Elders, however, did not see it that way.

After the Bored turned down as "too extravagant" all of the above "suggestions", I decided that I would make one last attempt to obtain for myself, and by so doing, enhance the image of Your Pope, a really hot ride.

So, being a typical person of our Internet age, I jumped on Google and went looking.

(A brief pause to build a moment of solemnity...)

That is a Pagani Huayra (pronounced "Oh. My. God.").

Nugh, nuh nuh, hegh uh...sorry.

The powerplant is a Mercedes Benz V12 TwinTurbo 6.0 liter designed by AMG for MB engine that develops 700 HP (SEVEN HUNDRED HORSEPOWER) that pushes the Huayra to a top end of somewhere around the Speed Of Aroma (230 MPH).

Thank you, and good night.

I stumbled onto a short video of this beast; it appears to be of a couple of tech guys rolling out a prototype vehicle. You have to check this out; this is an amazing car. From the rear it looks like a spaceship.


"Huayra" is the name of the ancient Andean God Of Holy Horsepower, Batman, They Want $1.4 Mil For That Son-Of-A-Bitch. Excuse me, God Of Wind, like as in how hard I broke same when I saw the price tag on that buggy. Those Pagani folks, they aren't bashful, I'll give them that.

What a beautiful example of the automotive art; granted that the perception of automobile building as an art requires one to get past thinking only of the functionality of the automobile, and admire certain autos as strictly objects d'art, rather than as examples of a useful, but mundane and everyday, conveyance. But once past, it is hard to imagine a more incredible exemplar of the art than this.

In other words, that is one maternal fornicator of a car, bro.

So I told the Bored, hey, I'll give up the Clippers season's tickets (oh yeah, that was hard, like giving up ringside seats to a live medical school presentation of the short piece, "The Proper Way To Perform A Colonoscopy"), and the Walmart discount card, and the $3.75 meal per diem AND the annual subscription to "DDD Beauties" (and go away and stop bothering them about a car), if they could see their way clear to allow me to purchase a...

...(a flourish of saxo, err, trumpets here please...)

...Pagani Huayra.

Just one.

And they said no. Again.

Assholes.

So Harley and I are on strike, and we aren't returning until our demands (see "***Demands***" below) are met. Or at least waved hello at.

***Demands***
            #1- a Pagani Huayra.
            #2- a lifetime subscription to "DDD Beauties"
            #3- and Harley wants a new chew toy, preferably one that squeaks

That's it.

So step up, B Of E, or me and the hound, we're outta' here, hasta la vista, bubala, which ain't Spanish for "Baby, You Can Drive My Car", one of my all time favorite Beatle tunes, okay? We're geography, dudes.

Hang on, the Popephone is ringing; it's probably the Bored calling, begging us to return.

"PJTT...hey, Mike, any news?...oh, they did?...no, I'm not surprised, I expected them to come crawling soon...they said what?......HOW long?...shit...shit...okay, we can go looking tomorrow...hey, what about the subscription...tell them I said that's cold...yeah...yeah...okay, gotta' go."

Shit.

That was my consigliore, the Right Reverend Monsignor Michael Jordan (no, not the one who always stuck his tongue out when he drove to the hoop); he tells me he checked with the Pagani people: they only make 20 Huayras a year, and they're booked up through the next millennium. And he checked with the B Of E, and they said that, in light of my exemplary performance as Pope and my extensive contributions to the field of the humanities, or as the feminists would say, the hupersonities, they will allocate funds to allow me to buy a brand new...

...Ford Focus.

Stripped down version only, though, no CD player or GPS.

My, how the fallen have mightied.

At least they approved my subscription to "DDD Beauties"; their comment to Mike, to pass along to me, was that they understood how a man of my, delicately put, limited opportunities with the opposite sex might need some form of "alternative release", and they didn't want to seem "insensitive" by denying my request.

Assholes.

(Large sigh of resignation here.)

Love and Pintos,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.

Dawn

Dawn