Not all academics are douchebags like these self-righteous serious assholes.

The banana question to the creationist is awesome. I think Ali G and Grown Pumpkin might be twins, kinda like Arnold is to Danny DeVito.

It always cracks me up how some bathrooms just work out such that the toilet paper stockpile is outside the bathroom. This means that you’ve got to be on your toes, thinking ahead. You calculate: “This feels like a pretty big one, hmmm, there’s 1/4 of the roll left. Should be safe.” So you gamble and then you end up with a shotgun blast out the ass–”Ahem, clean up on aisle 2“– that requires at least another half a roll to mop up. As you frantically look for the emergency roll, you realize that’s it’s outside in the hall closet. This is where things get really interesting.

Now if you there’s no roommate or family at home, you probably just waddle out with your pants at your ankles to seize the TP like some deranged Napoleon, and then life is good. But if there’s a danger you might get spotted, this is the fun part. Now you pull up the pants, being ever so careful to set up your boxers or whatever so they don’t work themselves into your poop-moat. So then you clinch, which brings about a funky sensation that takes you way back in the day to your Huggies days. Then you speed-waddle out to the closet and hope that someone isn’t there to do the math: (speed waddle) plus (new roll of toilet paper) plus (reentry into bathroom) = you have fudge-ditch!

My reader might feel smug. “Well, Spanky, you’re an idiot. My TP is always stocked within the bathroom. I don’t have to speed-waddle.” Don’t get cocky. Every now and then the TP Sneak will happen in a public place, because you’ve sprinted into the stall to disarm the diarrhea time-bomb and you didn’t stop to see that the two giants rolls are empty. Then your hearing comes into play. “Ok, I think I heard phlegmy-coughy old dude leave after his 5-minute piss, but did two guys come in after that or just one?” And then you have to stall hop–thus the TP Sneak.

So, friends, be careful. Have a razor-sharp intellect. Stock your TP ahead of time, and beware of the fudge-ditch.

So, I was out at the bar last night, and the Cardinals won the damn World Series. That’s cool, bro–whatever. The main benefit to me is that Bro Taguchi will be in a better mood for a while. Maybe he’ll simmer down a bit. He’s been all wound up for a month or so. But I digress. Right after the Cards won, some douchebags in the bar yelled out “CUBS! GO CUBBIES!” I made a face like someone just called me a Republican.
That’s pathetic. It looks to me like the Cubbies were in last place in the National League Central. If I were a Cubs fan, I’d keep my damn mouth shut at this point. Shit, I might even show a little respect.

Keep in mind that I don’t even really care about besoboru. As my homeboy Shawn says, “It ok.” (sic). Thus I can objectively say that those Cubs fans were total douches. They might as well have said, “HEEEEEEEYYYYYY, our team fucking blows, and you should whap us in the nuts with a Louisville Slugger!”

I’ll let you in on a secret: I have a Cardinals hat, and it’s mostly a red hat to me. Most of the time Cards fans see it and say “Go Cards!” and I’m like, “Sure, bro.” But, I did buy a new one after my old Cards hat died. And I did it just because Cubs fans are annoying. The next Cubs fan that rips off my hat from my head is going to have big problems with me.

If Cubs fans keep on being the dildos they’ve been, I might commit to being a full-out Cards fan, just to spite them.

And I don’t even care about baseball.

This will erase the ass-whoopin’ in 2004 handed to you by my beloved Red Sox. Timmy Mac and Joe Buck will have hard-ons for the next year until spring training. Maybe on the collector’s DVD they’ll show Buck and McCarver having mad monkey sex in the booth when McCarver has a heart attack and after Joey Buck blows his load on Timmy’s ass, his head explodes.

Rummy asks a journalist: “Why are you so hostile, bro?”
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Rummy is tired of you asking when we’re leaving Iraq. “You ought to just back off, take a look at it, relax, understand that it’s complicated, it’s difficult,” Rumsfeld said regarding deadlines. “Honorable people are working on these things together. There isn’t any daylight between them.”

Rummy says unto thee, “Take a chill pill. Kick back.”

Rummy provided Soupy Trumpet with his top ten suggestions for chilling out on Iraq:
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10. Enjoy some pizza rolls. The whole bag. Follow up with choco ice cream.
9. Go over to Grown Pumpkin’s and play some Madden. Run the quarterback sneak against his Falcons until he throws the controller against the wall.
8. Put on Dark Side of the Moon and just “zone out.”

7. Play Hungry Hungry Hippos with W in the oval office for all the green Skittles.

6. Have “guys’ night out” with Wolfowitz and Ashcroft. Go karaoke and sing only Spice Girls tunes. Pick up hot babes.
5. Buy some gas.

4. Play naked Marco Polo with Cheney in the White House pool.

3. How Stella Got Her Groove Back.

2. Read Rove’s master plan.

1. Think about how the Democrats still have over a week to mess things up.

“The Big Lebowski–The Short Version.”

So many f-bombs, in so little time. The Brandt interludes are awesome. The first time I saw this, I was in tears.

Well, this post started out as dealing with Subway only, but then I lost control.

I hate pretty much all of Subway’s commercials. I’m sick of that lameass Jared (did he have his stomach stapled? I don’t know), but I’m especially sick of Jon Lovitz and his spritely commentary on their little skits.

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Burger King, on the hand, creeped me out at first with the King, but after they put him on the football field I became a fan. Hence I applaud BK.
Back to Lovitz. This shit is pushing me away from Subway. They’re so smug, and the fact that their parent company is named “Doctor’s Associates” or whatever doesn’t work on me. Yeah, you’re pushing for the whole healthy-image thing–I got that. Do you really think that works on me–your stupid company’s name? By making it seem as if my doctor gives it the thumbs up?
I like the Italian BMT and the meatball sub. I really do. But to beat a dead horse, I share Grown Pumpkin’s sentiment, expressed here. But Lovitz makes me want to call Wayne Brady. Really.

Maybe I’m cranky because I’m hungry. God, I’d go to the Chinese place, China Star, in the Old Capitol Mall in Iowa City to grab some of their badass General Tso’s, but they don’t take credit or debit cards. We need to have a little chat, they and I. Their food is rockin’ and they’re packed at lunch, but they need to step it up. It’s 1999, BRO. Get on board. Now I go there anyway, but I’d go there more if I could be a good American and use this credit card. I don’t care if they don’t speak English. But don’t tell me that I can’t rack up credit card debt. That’s the real threat to the American way.

-Hattori “Spanko” Hanzo

Hey douche! you got caught. Like I care, since the Sox were as depleted as the North Korean food supply… face it you moron, you had pine tar on your hand and you got caught, don’t play dumb. Of course, you’re not going to admit it and I bet Tim McCarver’s panties were all in a bunch when you didn’t get tossed.

I’d like to see fellow New Hampshire-ite Chris Carpenter win tonight, but I couldn’t give a fat fuck who wins it all, cause it’s baaseball and baseball without my Sox is like a one night stand without the dirty slut in bed.

Kenny… buddy… if you’re going to cheat, don’t make it so obvious. Take some lessons from the master, Gaylord Perry. Hide it. Conceal it. Don’t put the fucking crap on your hand you tool.

P.S. - I hope Tim McCarver drops dead in the booth and Joe Buck trips over his dead carcass and breaks his scrawny neck. You can’t hold a candle to your father.

We at Soupy Trumpet are big fans of what we believe to be is an extinct mascot: Dodgy of “Extreme Dodgeball.” Dodgy was the shit. He had sweet dance moves, a rockin’ hat and kickass nikes. Can we find a DVD of Dodgy highlights?

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It’d be awesome to see dearly departed Chris Farley pull off that cartwheel during some ping pong like this.

At the end of the video, I like to imagine that the Jackie Chan-knockoff dude on the near side says “Stop showboatin’, you dildo.”