FFWD Weekly
Copyright © 2000. All Rights Reserved

Mr. Smutty by James Martin Maybe it’s the pre-Christmas rush to finish building all those toys, maybe it’s the jail sentence, but you & I, dear deer-eared reader, we just haven’t been spending enuff quantity time together. So whaddaya say we throw another steel-belted on the fire and hunker down for a li’l breeze-shootin’? (Ignore those toxic blasts of melting rubber, the wind’s bound to shift when the ice cap melts. And even if it doesn’t, remember what that dude on Kung Fu always said: "That which doesn’t kill you will only make you nauseated." Get a bucket, Grasshopper.) Have we ever talked – and I mean really talked – about how busy Ger_an businesswomen (w/ babies on their minds, but not in their uteruses) can now receive computerized cellphone updates reminding ’em when they’re ovulating? The idea is to more efficiently schedule sexual intercoitus, kinda like a wakeup call from the front desk. Men can also receive similar cellphone reminders: "You want to have sex now. You want to have sex now. Now you want to eat. You want to have sex now. Your cellphone is currently out of range, but I’m pretty sure you want to have sex now...." [Insert rimshot here.] Ha ha ha, we are having much mirth by fingerpoken fün at the "battle of the sexes," no? Oh, men are truly from Mars and women hail from yet an altogether different planet. Even the men on Venus are actually from Mars, and boy! you should see their collection of power tools. Nothing is more timely than the "age-old," hey-huh-hey? Is there smoke emitting from my pants? There should be, ’cuz I’m on fire! Thank you v. much, ladies & transgendered germs! That was just a li’l taste of the act I’m planning to perform at open-mic nite later this week. Just thought that, y’know, I’d run it up the flagpole (to half-mast) and see if you were compelled to stand at attention & perhaps muster a salute. Now, let’s go to an interview I conducted w/ my conscience earlier today: Q: Despite all the self-conscious "deconstruction," I sense that you really think that was a good joke about cellphone ovulation reminders. I think you’re hiding behind a cowardly disguise of "laying the device bare," too scared to really put yourself "out there." In fact, I suspect that you really will be sitting in on open-mic nite at a local comedy club. In fact, I think you’ve been working up the balls for years. You’re that guy at the back of the club, aren’t you? Nursing a Coke, shirt soaked in cold sweat? A: Is that yer nose or are you eating a pickle, thusly creating the optical illusion of having a large green nose? I only ask to be nasty and deflate yr self-confidence. Q: You’re trying to have your cake and eat it, too, aren’t you? A: Errr, yep. Q: And exactly what kind of cake is it? A: Strawberry shortcake. My, she’s looking swell. Q: OK, hold it right there! That’s another thing: what’s with the non sequiturial "pop culture" references? That didn’t even make any sense. There’s no "meaning" to what you just said. A: Whud you talkin’ ’bout, Mister Drummond? Q: There it is again! I think you’re just trying to kill time, to pad your word count, to stretch things out, to "step on" your thoughts with baby laxative, to "make a little go a long way," to box it down with water. A: "Antidisestablishmentarianism" is the longest word in the English language. Q: Well, now you’re just being contumacious. Wasn’t that exhilarating? I just love investigative journalism. Who needs Babs Walters when I’ve got, er, me? Say, have you ever noticed how when something comes to an end, someone usually sez something like "Thanx a lot, you’ve been great"? Some people have no shame.

| Back To This Issue Table of Contents | Back To Main Index |