Word to ALL your mothers, people! It’s that time again, time for another flaming edition of the ‘tribe. You know you love it. I’ll keep this short and sweet, but head on over to Green Apple Martinis and check out my guest posting collaboration. It’s silly as hell, but then again, that’s what you’ve come to expect from me.

Damian, OUT!

On with the diatribe.
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LONDON – A leading reproductive healthcare charity is urging Britons to take part in a ‘hands-on’ event that has been titled the “Masturbate-a-thon.” Marie Stopes International is hosting the session with HIV/AIDS charity the Terrence Higgins Trust in hopes of raising awareness about HIV prevention. “We want to get people talking about safer sex, masturbation and to lift taboos,” said a Marie Stopes spokeswoman. Folks that are over 18 can participate and can bring any aids they need to get the job done, as it is against the rules to fake an orgasm. The event’s Web site tells participants that “the amount you raise will be determined by how many minutes you masturbate and/or how many orgasms you achieve.”

Weeeeelllllll! I bet several people I know would be imminently qualified to ‘compete’ in this event. Popeye arms are a big ol’ neon sign that you might be a real expert, just so you know. My question is, what completely unfortunate soul is assigned to clean up after this jizztacular festival of spurt? Swear to God above, I’d quit on the spot.

Boss: “Hey Damian, you’re on splooge patrol.”
Me: “No. Go ‘head and gimme my check, a’ight?”

Here’s the thing, too. You KNOW someone’s gonna stroll up in there with some completely inappropriate spank material, ready to throw down. Sure, mostly there’ll be Playboys and English Girls with All Their Teeth Magazine (even if it doesn’t exist, it should. You know this.), but one guy’s gonna walk in with Sheep Weekly or Llamas Gone Wild, and upset the whole apple cart. Some woman’s gonna come in with a dual headed vibrator attached to solar cells and a hand crank for more juice. It’s gonna make more noise than a jackhammer in an earthquake, and glasses of water will rattle off tables in ajoining rooms. Hezbollah will scout her as a weapon against Israel – it’ll be that strong. And she’s gonna scream bloody murder until she launches a thermonuclear orgasm into the face of the observer (since they won’t allow faked orgasms, I imagine someone will have to monitor. There’s a nice job. Not.). I hope he wears goggles.

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BEAUFORT, S.C. – A Beaufort, S.C., man who used to live on a street called Lottery Lane has won a second major prize from scratch-off lottery tickets in 20 days. Harold Gray, a self-employed contractor, buys one scratch ticket every day, and last month won $250,000. Tuesday, his wife’s 39th birthday,he bought a ticket worth $100,000, the Beaufort Gazette reported. “I had to go home and take a little medication to calm me down,” Gray said. “I feel like I have a horseshoe stuck up my behind.” He and his wife had already booked a cruise to the Bahamas later this month after their first win, but neither said they would quit their jobs. Gray said he would pay off his bills, buy a house and invest the rest for retirement.

I hope the boat’s septic system backs up on Free BBQ night. See, this is why I shouldn’t’ve moved from South Damn Carolina. By the way, when something really good happens there and it doesn’t affect me, my family, or people I know and love, the official name of the state becomes South Damn Carolina, Home of the Rebel Flag and Moon Pies. Evidently, I need to hang with Harold Gray. This lucky bastard. He even lived on Lottery Lane! This is bullshit. I can’t win $5 to buy more scratch-offs, and this muhfucka wins $350K. On two separate tickets. I’m getting in my car. I’m driving back to South Cackalack. I’m finding this guy. I’m making him come with me to a Circle K convenience store, and I’m gonna hand him my cash so that HE can purchase my tickets. And if I don’t win at LEAST $50, swear to Buddha, I’m gonna get a Nestea from the cooler, a teryaki beef stick, a Reece’s Big Cup, pay for it, eat that shit, and then beat his ass with the empty plastic bottle until money falls out like he’s a damn slot machine. Then I’ll REALLY stick a horseshoe up his behind. First thing I’ll buy with my new-found cash? Tang. By the barrel. I want a Tang dispenser installed in my kitchen, and a Tang fountain at work. I’ll hire four hoochies dressed in orange to dance around me like those annoying (but very hot) Fanta girls. “Don’t you wanna?” “Mmmm hmmmm!” Oh, and some spinning rims. Just the rims, not a car to go with it. I’m strange that way.

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DES MOINES – In July, Cory Neddermeyer, 42, was turned down for unemployment benefits in Iowa, after a judge ruled that he was fired for cause. His employer, the Amaizing Energy ethanol plant, suffered a massive spill that created a pond of fuel alcohol, and Neddermeyer (a recovering alcoholic), after resisting as long as he could, gave in and started drinking from the pool (causing him to pass out and later register an 0.72 blood-alcohol reading). [Des Moines Register, 7-9-06]

If you ever wondered how bad it is to be an alcoholic, this story is a major clue. Homeboy drank from a pond of fuel alcohol. Now, my question isn’t why he did that – my question is, why was an alcoholic working for a place that makes ALCOHOL? Isn’t that like a recovering sex addict working for Hustler? Or a food addict working for Hershey? Love the name of the place, though – Amaizing, with “maize” being the alternate name for corn. Cute. I guess “Aliquoring” and “Alternative Fuel Source America Will Never Use Because We’re Too Busy Blowing The Saudis” were already taken. For Neddermeyer, going to work must’ve been stressful as hell. It would be like me working at a bacon factory, where everything there was made of freshly fried bacon strips. Sweet baby Allah, that sounds good. All that alcohol…and him without a straw. I bet his top lip beaded up with sweat every time he clocked in. What drives a man to drink from a fuel spill? A green Dodge Neon with a passenger side door held on by duct tape. That’s my guess.

Peace.

The first two stories came from Bizarre News. The last one came from News Of The Weird. I come from Dallas.

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