A Magic Poem

'You need to work on your misdirection' said the master magician to his young apprentices mannequin filed pants, which had successfully fooled his master. 

Meanwhile his apprentice was stuck in the woods outside his masters not yet looted house, unable to circumnavigate the magicians sensor lights. 

Sadness

‘All the decent mega-mansions are in really boring neighborhoods’ said the sad billionaire with tears in his eyes.

‘Why can’t I just find a nice twenty bedroom plus place, with more than one pool, a full sized cinema, a banquet room, tennis courts in more than one surface, and a side pool house bigger than most upper middle-class people could ever dream of owning, that I will personally use to store all the art I own by household name known renaissance masters, that I don’t currently feel like looking at, in a neighborhood with nice restaurants, theaters, bars and a twenty four hour convenience store?’ He practically pleaded, now with tears streaming down his face.

He then pulled himself together, dabbed his eyes dry with hundred dollar bills, and went to sleep in a bed so big that both of his teenage mistresses were able to find space beyond his reach.

Heroic Teachings

As a comedian I'm not always all that serious. I like to take the piss. Make fun of stuff. Have a few laughs. Use my heightened wit to cruelly undermine the confidence of innocents. That's the job. 

But not today, I want to talk about something serious today. I was talking to an old school friend the other day. Clive. And he has a problem that he needed help with, it was weighing him down and making him feel foolish, and having put my mind to it, and heroically helped solve his dilemma, I thought perhaps I should help anyone here with a similar problem.

Oh by the way, Clive goes by the name chewbucca these days. Join the rebel alliance and you get all fancy apparently. But he was a good friend at school. Clive used to be really self-conscious about his voice, but I was the one that told him to listen out for people saying things like:

- I feel sick, I don't even know how to put it into words. 

- The weathers so 'blah' I don't even know how to describe it. Or 

- I think I'm about to get my period, I want to yell but I don't know WHAT to yell. 

And if he heard any of those said he should jump out and let off one of his trademark yawny bear roars. And every-time he'd get a laugh, sometimes people would even hug him and say 'yes, you nailed it Clive!' Which admittedly reminded him of how some of his family had been tortured, slaughtered and sometimes crucified by the Sith, but he said it was worth it for the laughs. 

In return, knowing I hadn't started puberty yet like all the other boys,  he'd sometimes give me some of his hair to glue onto my completely naked pubis area so I didn't look like I was a freak who hadn't entered puberty yet, and instead I could pass for a well haired in the genitalia person with a freak tiny baby dick. 

Anyway, Chewy, as his mates call him these days, was upset, saying our other mate Han, was making fun of him because his bowcaster blaster gun was dirty, and that he should probably wash it. And that's when Chewy broke down crying, and he told me 'I didn't even notice that it needed washing, in fact I NEVER know when it needs washing'.  

And before anyone fucking laughs at him, remember HE can smell an Ewok from 50 galactic miles, can you? No, we all have different skills ok. 

So, I'm not sure how many people here have the same problem of not knowing when your blasters need to be washed, I'm guessing maybe half, so here is a handy guide to tell if your personal bowcaster blaster or phase blaster needs to be cleaned: 

- It's really old. I'm telling you guys you may think 'my bowcasters old, I just want a new one' well no, it probably just needs scrubbing. It'll probably come up as good as new. Trust me. This actually works for grandparents too, fun fact, a few years ago I was going to trade my grandmother in for a younger model, but instead I decided to scrub her instead, she's been amazing since, now goes by the name Scarlett Johansson. 

- It was given to you by a friend who's known for giving gifts jammed up with gum. I'm not sure if you have friends like this, but I personally love to buy friends weapons and just jam them up with gum. Then suddenly you're out and a droid army attacks and your buddy goes to shoot and his phaser blows up in his hands! Ha ha ha. It's hilarious. HA HA HA. But, BUT this is important, I only do this to friends who I know will be hanging out with Jedi Knights guaranteed to save the day. If you personally aren't regularly in the company of Jedi then just clean your weapon. In fact do it anyways, give your Jedi buddy a break. 

- It's currently submerged in mud riddled swamp. Look I know what you're thinking, this is amazing laser technology and a little mud surely will not hurt. But think of this - what makes mud? Storms. What else do Storms make? That's right. Storm

troopers. If you think that's just a coincidence then you're utterly fooling yourself. 

- It looks dirty. 

- You've been letting kids play with it. They ALWAYS have sticky fingers. And sticky weapon can lead to a less fun battling experience, just think about how much less fun you'd have next time your defending a satellite dish that's destruction could ultimately lead to the complete annihilation of several entire planets, including those that hold everyone you love, now do you want a fun experience, or a sticky experience? 

- You've been playing with Luke's lightsaber even though he asked you not to. For a Jedi he is surprisingly petty and spiteful. 

- It smells bad. It might still work fine, but no one likes a stinky battle comrade. Here's a trick, submerge it in a bowl of good quality Greek yogurt, then rinse it off with Jawa blood, works every time. 

Alright guys. Get to work. Clean your bowcaster blaster or phase blasters if need be, if you need some Jawa blood in happy to go hunting with you, and yet still - you're an adult now, you should always keep Jawa blood in the house, and if not let's hit the Catinina, Saber Glow is playing tonight, and I'm told their new drummer is green! Ha ha. Can you believe that?  

Profound Thoughts - A poem

'You can never ever see your own face' thought the small boy, one night while lying in his bed, looking up at a glow in the dark universe of stars stuck to his ceiling.
'Oh yes, in pictures, and reflections, but those are reversed, two dimensional, flawed'
'Ok, well if I scrunch my face up I can see the top of my cheeks. And I can see the tip of my nose'.
'And yes if I protrude my lips forward so I can see those. And my fully extended tongue is quite visible.'
'And of course I am an identical triplet, there are two other identical faces out there, in those rooms adjacent to mine'.

'And the three of us did just star in the latest 3D blockbuster where we got to see huge three dimensional version of ourselves and our identical brothers.'
'But other than that, I'll never see my own face'.
'Kind of weird'.
'Sort of profound'.
'Beautiful in a way'.
'Outward appearance may dominate much of my existence and yet I'll never truly know my own'
Just then a grizzly bear broke through his bedroom window and ate off his face.
Only his brothers were in the sequel.

Inspiration - a poem

Scott was a novelist
One day he went to an art galley
Inspired by the experience, he decided to take a leaf out of visual artists books
And he hired a nude model to be his muse
The resulting novel was an abject failure
Yet countless other male novelists still felt the experiment warranted copying

Wow - A Monumental Adventure Of Thrilling Magnitude

Free points

Eric, an insurance claim adjuster, was having a tough time adjusting to claims that he wasn't as good at tennis as he thought he was. 

'What do you mean?' He asked, when it was first mooted. 

'Look it doesn't matter, just I wouldn't boast about it so much, is all' replied Kevin, his regular tennis opponent, and recent recipient of a twenty minute reenactment of how Eric had recently pipped him for his third straight win'.

'No tell me, I'm dying to know, how is three straight wins not a sign of my burgeoning brilliance?'

'Well, let's just say that sometimes your serves go long and I call them in because it's more fun to have a rally than call double fault. And on that note, double faults are actually when you miss only two serves in a row, it's not "when you miss two it means you get only one more" like we've been playing, which I made up so you wouldn't just double fault almost every bloody point. Oh and technically you don't get twice the points for playing double-handled backhands, I just made that up because when you go one handed you ALWAYS hit it into the net. Oh and you know the rule where the first person on to the court that yells "honey-dew melon" gets to hit it within the doubles lines and have it still be in, that you always seem to manage to say first, that's technically not in the rule books. Oh and you know how I'm a left handed tennis player, have you noticed I'm right handed in every other way?'

'So basically you've just been bending all the rules this this whole time?'

'Well yeah'.

'So I'm playing with YOUR rules and STILL winning! THREE IN A ROW, THREE IN A ROW, THREE IN A ROW!'

Kevin, Eric's regular tennis opponent had just learned a valuable lesson, the 'free' six million dollars that he'd been able to steal from Eric's insurance company using information he'd slowly gotten off Eric over three months of tennis matches had turned out to come at a cost after all. 

The compliment

Malcolm, a plumber from San Jose, is a cumaugerous asshole. He was well aware of this and had no interest in changing, but since the growth in online review websites, he was discovering reviews for his work like this one:

'Excellent plumber, but he sure is a cumaugerous asshole'.

It was starting to affect his business. 

'Maybe I could TRY saying compliment to someone one day' he began to think from time to time. But he didn't know where to start. So he kept putting it off. And his work continued to slow. 

But then...

'Those are pretty shoes' he found himself saying one day, as he looked up at a lady whose sink he was working under.

'Where the hell did that come from' he thought 'who cares, you're doing it, just keep going'

'They're pink. Not sure if I've ever seen pink shoes before. Not that I pay much attention to ladies shoes, you know because of how stupid they are, not that you're stupid, just heels in general, you know because they look like they hurt, which is literally the opposite intended use of footwear, so that's stupid'

Malcolm's compliment had begun to go south. Which is a saying thats insulting to everyone who lives in the Southern Hemisphere, you know, just half the fucking world! (Depending on where India is?)

'You can do this Malcolm' he thought 'this is your first compliment, keep it going'.

'But brave too! Like it takes bravery to give into stereotypical ideals of beauty even when they are stupid. I couldn't do it. I'm too proud to do things just because they're popular, no matter how dumb and even painful they are. So good for you. And hey, I don't know, if you were ever afraid of minor, minor heights you seem to have gotten over it. And that would have been pathetic, so hey, no longer pathetic. I once got over a fear. I used to fear my fathers drunken beatings, but then one day I flung a beer bottle into his face. I felt guilty after though. Cause I threw it real hard, it smashed, and he lost his left eye. I ended up punishing myself for years after that. Is that what your doing? Did you ever take out one of your parents eyes and now you're punishing yourself with painful feat? That makes sense. Oh plus, I just realized, they're bright pink, which draws the eye away from your face, which is truly hideous!'

'Get out of my house' replied the lady. 

Malcolm packed up his stuff, and as he was leaving muttered 'Wow, that's bullshit, I'm never fucking being nice again'. 

When he got home he discovered that India is entirely in the Northern Hemisphere.

'And people wonder why I'm a cumaugerous asshole?' He thought. 

Two Friends

Two friends sat next to each other.

'I bet you'll get eaten out this morning' said one to the other one. 

'No I bet YOU'LL get eaten out this morning' said the other one to the first one. 

By the way, stop assuming something dirty ok. These friends happen to be nearly empty boxes of cereal ok. Not dirty at all. Clean your minds. 

They're boxes of cereal who happened to be owned by a guy who loves given oral sex to cardboard. 

Ohh, it's a double twist! 

Proof Of Hope And Happy Endings

'Oh no'

I thought as I was coming out of my evening slumber. 

I could feel it in my upper left temple.

It was coming.

It was imminent. 

It was horrible. 

A zit was brewing. 

And based on the size of the sore area this was going to be a monster. 

'Will it fit under a hat?' I pleaded.

But no, it was too far down my face.

'I could start leaving my fringe over my forehead?' I reasoned.

But no, I find that mildly annoying. 

It was hopeless. 

I was destined to be a stupid zit head once more. 

Left to scourge the dark alleys to hide my shame. 

But then.

Like a ray of brilliant warming light.

It basked upon me. 

'Oh that's right, late last night while trying to turn on the bathroom light, I friggin' head-butted the corner of the medicine cabinet'

It hurt a lot.

This isn't a zit growing. 

It's just a full on dong smashing my face into furniture bruise. 

And in that moment, my stupid bruised face said it all - hope is there for us all! 

The Dangers of Ponytails

The dangers of ponytails 

I was sitting behind a guy on the train today. Because I don't discriminate when it comes to who I sit behind. Men, women, children, monkeys, I'll sit behind anyone. And judge them. Cause I'm a nice guy. 

This particularly guy had two specific things that I noticed. 

1. A t-shirt supporting the conservation boat The Sea Shepard. 

2. A long ponytail. 

The t-shirt had printed on the back the mission statement of the Sea Shepherd. 

Which read: 

Our mission is to end the destruction of habitat and slaughter of wildlife in the world’s oceans in order to conserve and protect ecosystems and species.

Although this guys ponytail happened to fall in a way completely covering up the words 'to end'. 

So to anyone reading it said:

Our mission is the destruction of habitat and slaughter of wildlife in the world’s oceans in order to conserve and protect ecosystems and species.

You ponytailed animal slaughtering asshole!!!

The point is clear - Yeah, ok, I'll admit it, if I was a professional goat herder then yes I WOULD be pissed that shepherds get all the respect, because that's bullshit, goats are WAY more temperamental than sheep - they'll eat a metal can if they find one for fuck sake, you ever see the hell a goat goes through shitting that out? So yeah, fuck off shepherds, plus why are there always monkeys on trains. 

Things I learned trying to think of Rhymes for Frosted Flakes

Cornflakes - they've been a staple of human existence for hundreds of years. They've been eaten by everyone from Kings to peasants, Princes and Paupers, and Presidents to people who didn't vote for that particular president and are bitter about it. They're tasty, and hearty, and value for money, and calling someone 'corny' originally meant that there were someone who made intelligent and well thought out breakfast cereal decisions.

It's no surprise that songwriters throughout the ages have, in a delicious bowl of Cornflakes, found a beautiful, inspirational and occasionally even erotic muse.

I'm talking about:

Cornflake Girl by Tori Amos

Flake Shake by Dr Dre

Orange Mornings By Cheap Trick

Crunch Mouth By Metallica

Box Of Love By the Bee Gees

Breakfast Romance By Dean Martin

Last Spoonful By The Beatles

Milk On Top By Miles Davis

Without My Bowl by Hank Williams

Deep In My Mouth by Bing Crosby

And

Overture For The Golden Crunchy Corn Flakes by Mozart

Yes Cornflakes, truly wonderful cereal, and extremely exceptional muse.

There's only one problem, I DONT LIKE CORNFLAKES. I actually prefer Frosted Flakes, cause Frosted Flakes are Cornflakes with frosted stuff, and that frosted stuff is yum.

But there are NO songs about Frosted Flakes. I get none of that joy of eating a cereal while listening to quality music inspired by that very same cereal that Cornflake eaters take for granted every morning. It's a miserable existence.

But I today, while attempting to remedy this situation, I believe I discovered why – it’s hard to think of good Rhymes for ‘Frosted Flakes’.

So here are things I learned while attempting to think of rhymes for Frosted Flakes:

- It's hard to think of rhymes for frosted flakes.

- 'Crusted Snake' is terrible.

- 'Moss Did Great' is ok.

Do you know any songs that were inspired by Frosted Flakes? Want to help me write one? We’ll turn the session into a world wide dominating rock band of extraordinary talent, skill and success if you want, only one rule, when we get to fill out our riders, we always write – NO Cornflakes.

Top Eleven Reasons I Love Butter Knives

11. They are arguably the best knife going around for the spreading of butter.

10. Yes, I know that’s controversial.

9. Yeah, I know, I agree - meat cleavers will typically get MORE butter on your croissant than a butter knife will.

8. Did I ever deny that?

7. That’s right, so you can suck on your friggin’ judgment.

6. I never fucking said that more butter isn’t better than less butter, of course it is, it’s fucking BUTTER, it’s seriously delicious.

5. Because a meat cleaver is hard to get into the tub THAT’s why.

4. Ok smart ass, yes I know about blocks of butter, but even if you do prefer a block of butter over a tub of butter, meat cleavers are also harder to control in terms of a butter distribution which most reflects your personal butter desires and predilections.

3. Croissant, dinner roll, plate of broccoli – I don’t friggin’ care what you’re fucking putting butter on, unless it’s the size of a cow, a butter knife will be BETTER than fucking meat cleaver in terms of delicate, dependable and superior butter distribution.

2. You know what? We may both be butter lovers, but you and I are NOT the same, and frankly I hope you friggin’.. just, you know expire, and hopefully from something completely unrelated to anything we have been discussing here, like blocked arteries, or having some form of huge cutting device imbedded in your head, you obtuse dick.

1. It’s easy to store a bunch of them in your cutlery draw.

That’s butter knives everybody, enjoy them today!