To Jerome Corsi

Dear Jerome:

(Giggle) I can’t help that. Every time i hear the name Jerome, I think of the giraffe on The Friendly Giant. “Look up…look WAAAAAY up!”

In any case…Jerome. I hope you have your wits about you when you draw your final breaths. I trust you will then regret the hours, minutes and seconds you wasted ginning up lies. There is nothing honorable about you. Nothing scholarly. Nothing true.
And you will, despite your protestations today, go out knowing so.
Bye, now.

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6 Responses

  1. I’m probably glad I don’t know who Jerome Corsi is, but Friendly and I go way back.

    I always imagined myself sitting in the rocking chair because it was “for those who like to rock”. Even back then, I was a hardcore little motherfucker.

    • I don’t want to seem fawning…but you have NO idea how happy I am that you comment here.
      You make checking my stats worthwhile.
      Some day we shall share a beer…and wrestle just to see.
      Rock on, Jimmy Dean. You the man.
      I think we might be like those distant particles Einstein joked about.
      We MUST hit some hard core lesbian bar – divide by zero.

  2. let’s face it guys, there is big money in right-wing fear-mongering, and everyone wants to buy themselves a football team one day. go figure. hate is the new “Merican” product, and the beckheads can’t get enough bile, even when their people create it by the bushel. and we aren’t even into campaign season yet! holy fuck!

  3. Rusty the Rooster: “You can’t keep me in this fuckin’ bag forever, you know! It violates a whole shitload of SPCA regulations, you big bastard! You think I like living in a sack of my own shit? The fucking giraffe gets to run all over the goddamn place, but not me. No! I’m stuck hanging here on this fucking peg in a bag. It ain’t right, you “For two to curl up in” sonuvabtich!”

  4. Ah, don’t worry about the fawning. I barely even notice it anymore. Women do it to me all the time.

    Although, I do worry about the potential for icky touchy-feely moments. Intimacy ain’t my bag. I’m a wham-bam thank you ma’am kind of guy. And I also worry about the potential for us to fall into a vortex of Canadian nostalgia.

    That said, I still remember (Central Canadian) Frank Magazine’s “Low Definition TV” bits involving the Friendly Giant. Nothing beats satirizing kids TV shows.

    As for Rusty the Rooster, nobody ever really pointed it out, but he must have been one motherfucking huge cock. He appeared on a 1:1 scale with a GIANT who could put an entire chair on his finger. Rusty’s falling chicken-shit could probably punch a whole in a car, so keeping him in a sack was probably a good idea.

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