Tuesday, April 28, 2009
... 3:46am here in Boston, and that concludes tonight's broadcast of Red Sox baseball. The final score, Red Sox - 25, Yankees - 16, in 29 innings. We now join The Jim Sullivan Show, already in progress.
[Bark! Bark! [Sizzle] Yip! Bark! Bark! [Sizzle] Yip!]
Let’s hear it again for Michelle, The Flaming Poodle Juggler! Thank you, Michelle!
And now, we’ve come to that portion of the program wherein I dip into the mailbag and read letters from our viewers!
(Music: "We Get Letters")
Our first letter comes to us all the way from Port Orford, Oregon!
Well, I don’t know if we can expect much of anything from a place whose official tourism site has nothing on it, but here's the letter, anyway. It says, "I’ve tagged you for an award over at my place". Well, we all know what that means!
("If I Only Had A Brain" is played by studio orchestra. A huge Wheel-Of-Fortune-type device descends to the stage. Audience applauds.)
That’s right! It’s time to spin The Wheel Of Gratuitous Insults! And here we go!
(Spins wheel, while studio orchestra plays mid-section of "The Saber Dance". Music slows gradually, as does wheel.)
OK, the wheel is slowing down. Let's see what category of insults we come up with tonight!
The wheel is still spinning... it's going past You’re So Stupid, I... You Come From WHERE???..... What Did You Possibly Eat To Get So Fat?....... A Priest, A Rabbi, And YOU Walk Into A Bar......... Yo Mama........... You Call That A Baby?.............. I Haven't Smelled Anything That Bad Since.................. It looks like it’s going to land on The Last Time That Was Funny Was When Hooded Sheets Were A Fashion Accessory In Certain Parts Of Mississippi!...................... Aaaaaaaaaand..... No! The wheel has stopped on What In Hell Does THAT Mean?"
Hey! Did you pay to get in here? I know it’s been a long time since the wheel landed on Quips Worthy Of Oscar Wilde And Dorothy Parker, but that’s the luck of the draw, folks. Now, let’s get on with it.
This award comes from SixtyFiveWhatNow! Huh? Come Again? What in Hell does THAT mean? And the award is called Palabras Como Rosas. What in Hell does THAT mean? Palabras? Friend of Brassieres?
(Audience starts throwing things)
Sit down, ingrates! You knew when you came in here I’d make a cheesy sex joke out of something sooner or later. Anyway, what about "Como"? What in Hell does THAT mean? Is it Perry Como, the old-timey crooner?
(Audience throws bigger, deadlier things)
OK, OK, I know this sucks so far, but wait for the payoff. "Rosas"? I bet that means just what it sounds like, a bunch of flowers. So, the whole thing taken together means Chum Of Over-The-Shoulder Boulder Holders And A Singer With Some Roses. What in Hell does THAT mean?
(Studio audience leaves, and I can’t say that I blame them)
OK, so the home audience is still here, right? Hello? I guess I'll have to continue on faith that you are.
I don’t know what to do with these awards anymore, folks. I can be as vicious as the next guy, assuming the next guy isn't Genghis Khan, but I’m trying to build up good karma for my dental surgery, so I don’t want to insult the giver of the award too greatly. She seems like a nice sort, anyway. I’m sure the award was given with all good intentions, but so are most cases of the clap. I’ll tack it onto the sidebar, as usual, and, insofar as entertainment goes, you can only hope that nobody gives me another award while I’m feeling so disgustingly mellow.
Actually, I did get another one, kinda sorta.
See, Angie Ledbetter, otherwise known as Gumbo Writer, gave me The Zombie Chicken Award.
What’s that you say? I already got this award, and just two weeks ago at that? Yeah, it’s true. Angie decided to throw a monkey wrench into my happy gears. When I got the award originally, she was one of the poor souls to whom I handed it off. Well, she decided to give it back.
I’ve got to tell you the truth. I don’t know what in hell to do now. I’ve never had this happen before. I always figured once you handed one of these odious things off to some other sucker, you were done with it. I guess not.
I’m going to take the coward’s way out, which should come as no surprise to any of you who know me well. I’m going to give the award to somebody else and then invoke the "no return tags" rule.
(If you don’t remember what that is, it’s from when you were a kid and you played a game of tag. When you were tagged and became "it", you could easily just tag the person who had tagged you and make them "it" again, right? And then they’d tag you again, and then you’d tag them again, and then sooner-or-later one of you hauled off and punched the other guy. In order to avoid such things, the “no return tag” rule came into being. Once you were tagged, you could only tag someone other than the person who tagged you. Because of that rule, I think I may still be "it" from the last game of tag I was ever involved in. However, I digress, and you certainly don't deserve that.)
(We had been smoking angel dust and playing the game by whacking each other over the head with 2x4s, as I recall. What I remember with clarity is getting conked on the noggin, and the next thing I knew I woke up in some bushes and my wallet was gone. I never saw those guys again. Come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure I had ever met them before that time, and maybe I was just mugged. Yeah, that would explain why my pants were missing, too, I guess. Huh.)
Soooooooooo, I’m giving the award to Magazine Man. Not only is he The Best Writer On The Internet (it says so on my sidebar, so it must be true) but he also will probably ignore the damn thing completely and that will be the end of that.
Boy, this wasn’t good, not even a tiny little bit. Hey! I’m having almost all of my remaining teeth out on Thursday! Did I mention that? Cut me some slack.
And that’s The Jim Sullivan Show for today. Be sure to stay tuned for The National Oyster Shucking Championship coming up next on many of these fine stations.
(sound of crickets)
Stuff, Better, More With, Soon.