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Sunday, May 3, 2009

He’s Entertaining, But He’s No Pueblo, Colorado

I don't know why I love this line so much, but I do. I do.

He’s entertaining, but he’s no Pueblo, Colorado.

It's a line from a blog that I like very much, probably because of its title: World O' Crap. And also the very, very funny writer, Scott Clevenger, who has his very own Mall O' Crap and a scintillating book called Better Living Through Bad Movies. And since I've done more than my allotted time trying to cure sleeplessness with old episodes of Mystery Science Theater 3000, I am an expert now in bad movies, and therefore have the authori-tay to recommend the book (even though I didn't read it).

The blog post with the above-mentioned great line is about a pastor named Swank. I had never heard of him, but when I first read his name, I couldn't resist thinking "Schwank," and then, of course, "Schwing!" entered my dirty little mind. Schorry, Paschtor Schwank. Scho Schorry.

But when I looked up the Schwankster, I discovered he's just as "funny" as Garth and Wayne, but in the opposite way. Kinda. Schorta. Like the kind of opposite defined by a recent beauty contestant with pageant-paid breast implants (Disclosure: I have a Set O' Them too, except mine are older, literally older, than the beauty queen, and were drug-smuggler paid. Same diff.), who disclosed during the extremely important intelligence-test phase of the beauty contest, that she preferred "opposite marriage" over, well, butt fucking, I guess.

ANYhoo. I won't link to Mishter Schwank though. You'll just have to go find him your damn self. Because he is a bit, well, frightening. In a glasses-wearing, lips-that-allegedly-never-brushed-against-a-cock kind of way. He's opposite. Très opposite.

However, I did find, during my inveschtigation, another post from another blog I really like, called Sadly, No! It's a post about Hanky Schwanky from all the way back in 2006, so this Scwanker's been around, well, probably longer than my breast implants. So that means his tea bags have my breast bags beat, so to speak. Here's an amazing quote from the Paschtor:

Muslim murderers global are now taking names for suicide bomber squads who have AIDS. The Islamic fanatics have refined their murder craft now to include death by AIDS splash.

Shouldn't Schuwanee River Schwankerbocher have capitalized Muslim Murderers Global (MMG)? You know, the famous Mmm Mmm Ghuhs? Just sayin'. Anyway, again. All I know is I actually understand what he's saying in this quote, even though it's so very opposite of anything remotely sane. It's all about the blood and bones and flesh of Muslims with AIDS, schplasching their disease upon the world and killing everyone a second time. I guess. But the stuff Scott quoted from The Maschter of Schwankiness in his post yesterday wasn't even remotely understandable. I'm afraid that Schwank's schanity is schlipping fascht.

Perhaps I really love the Pueblo, Colorado quote because I've actually been to Pueblo, Colorado, and lived to tell the tale. It's the home of every mail-order advertisement's shipping center, and my ex-boyfriend's drug smuggling operations. Other than millions of mail boxes and pounds of pot, it's not what I would ever call an entertaining place. So Scott's irony is deep. Very, very deep.

The next time I talk to Schcott, I'll be schure to schwank him with my breaschts, in an opposchite kind of way, of course. I'll tell Schcott that he's entertaining, but he's no AIDS schplash. No siree.

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