I haven’t posted anything in about two weeks, and – believe me – I’ve heard the uproar from the the millions of Tubesteakers out there. I’ve truly been touched by the genuine concern I’ve seen in the outpouring of emails sent to me. To help illustrate my point, here are a few examples:
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“Dear Johnny, it’s been a few weeks since your last post? What gives?” — Lorraine
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“Hey, Johnny — You can stop writing crap on your blog, but that doesn’t change the fact that you owe me $300. Pay up, or I will find you.” — Leon
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“Johnny, how would you like to increase the size of your penis by up to two inches without ever taking a pill?” — Brentley Pharmaceuticals
I’ve appreciated all the emails, and I’m happy to say that I’m back! No two-week prison sentence is going to hold this guy down.
I’ve recently had more time to contemplate, however, and I’ve decided to make some changes to the site. In fact, you may have already noticed that the site is no longer called, “Johnny Tubesteak’s Daily Discourse,” but rather, “Johnny Tubesteak’s Periodically Updated Discourse.”
You see, someone told me recently that sometimes you have to choose between quality and quantity. I believe that person to be an idiot, so I am choosing neither. Thus, I will be updating my site less often, and the posts will be even worse than the ones you’ve read in the past.
So saddle up, pardners! It’s going to be a mediocre ride, and I can’t wait to have you all on board.
I’m Johnny Tubesteak, and I approve this message.
After months of political jockeying, congressional Democrats appear to have reached a deal with the White House on the military’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy. Having come up short in attempts to completely repeal the policy, three congressional sponsors have now proposed legislation that reflects something more of a compromise.
Under the proposed legislation, military personell will be required to either “Ask, but Don’t Tell” or to “Don’t Ask, but Do Tell.” Once the legislation is passed, every conversation between soldiers must include either “Asking” or “Telling,” but not both.
In a related story, legislation has also been proposed that would change the Naval rank of ”Rear Admiral” to something less gay sounding.
A woman in northern California won $2 million from a scratch-off lottery ticket the other day and is giving almost all of it to her goats (check out the story here). This inspiring, selfless act got me thinking about what I would do if I won the lottery.
First, I would take a cue from this California woman and try to do something charitable. Since I am unfamiliar with charities, I would probably research it for 15 minutes, get really bored, and then end up sending $10 to one of the Goat Lady’s goats.
Then, with the charity crap out of the way, I could focus my attention on more important stuff: making the most expensive sandwich ever assembled. I would hire a team of NASA engineers to design it for me and would require that it includes a stack of hundred dollar bills and some chocolate sauce. I can’t imagine that the bills will taste very good, but it will be worth it just to prove to everyone how rich I am.
I will have the NASA engineers assemble the sandwich in Hawaii. From there, it will be delivered to me via a solid gold rocket ship flown by a specially trained monkey. This probably means that the sandwich won’t be super fresh, but, again, it’s probably worth it to prove to everyone that I am very rich.
When the sandwich arrives, I will require that it be served to me on Mickey Mantle and Honus Wagner baseball cards that have been glued together and cut into the shape of a plate. And I will refuse to eat it if it isn’t served to me by two ex-presidents wearing the original, shoot-worn C-3PO and Chewbacca costumes (I don’t care which ex-presidents — beggars can’t be choosers).
Finally, a sandwich like this will almost certainly invoke an immediate need for excretion. Thus, I will quickly adjourn to the bathroom, where I will sit down on a diamond-ruby toilet with a mammoth-tusk flush handle and a seat cover constructed from an original Picasso. It has become way too cliche for a rich guy to wipe his butt with hundred dollar bills; rather, I will have my buttler (which I will spell with two “T”s) wipe my butt with hundred dollar bills for me while he sings to me (I will only hire accomplished tenors as buttlers). I’m not a big fan of opera, and I imagine that neither the diamond-ruby toilet nor the hundred dollar bills will feel very good against my tush, but it will be worth it just to prove to everyone how rich I am.
At that point, I estimate that I will be completely out of money. Already hungry for my next meal, I’m sure that I’ll turn to my friends for some cash.
And when all my friends refuse to lend me money, I will call up the goat to see if I can borrow back that $10 I sent him. The goat will refuse, and I will die of starvation.
I hope I don’t win the lottery.
According to an investigation recently reported by CNN, many Security and Exchange Commission staffers spent their workdays viewing and downloading porn as the country sank into its deepest financial recession in more than 70 years. One employee had over 600 pornographic images saved to her hard drive, and another high ranking official admitted to spending 8 hours a day downloading porn, saving the files to CDs and DVDs after his hard drive had reached full capacity.
Investigators first suspected there might be a problem when reports issued by the SEC more frequently included the words “sucks” and “blows” to describe the state of the U.S. financial system.
The real tipping point, said one member of the inspector general’s office, was when a brief statement issued by the SEC included the following statements:
1) “The U.S. economy no longer has the stamina to satisfy the entire country.”
2) “With our financial system now a shell of its former self, maintaining viability only through the reputation it built years ago, America has become the Ron Jeremy of world economic powers.”
3) “While we have further detail on this economic meltdown, we will not be sharing it until some college girls show us their boobs.”
Attempts were made to contact an SEC official for comments, but his secretary said he had been locked in his office all day and did not want to be interrupted.
13 year old Jonathan Lee, who has gained minor celebrity by campaigning for various “green” causes throughout the world, has set his sights on a new villain: fast food restaurants. Lee, who developed the website GoGreenMan.com, wants fast food restaurants to start recycling, and he is prepared to cause a bit of a ruckus to get their attention.
Lee has been standing outside of a McDonald’s restaurant in his hometown of Ridgeland, Mississippi, holding a sign that says, “FAST FOOD RESTAURANTS RECYCLE PLEASE” and “We need It!” for three days now. He intends to demonstrate every day until April 22, which is Earth Day.
“This is my first day, and I’m a little nervous,” said Lee. “But it’s very important that fast food restaurants recycle.”
We should all be inspired by his dedication and vision. And it’s high time that we look for ways to contribute.
Personally, I will contribute to the fast food recycling cause as I always have. About four minutes after I eat any fast food, I will recycle the food. Then, with my hand on my butt, I will run around madly looking for some sort of recycling depository — preferably a toilet. If I don’t find a depository, or if one is not readily available because I’ve eaten the fast food while in a car, I will temporarily deposit the recycled food into my underpants. I will then curse fast food and swear to never again eat it. This vow will last until I’m somewhat hungry and within ten miles of a Taco Bell.
And the great cycle continues.
PORTLAND, ME — Dozens of women went topless on Saturday in a demonstration of women’s rights. Both residents and tourists in Portland, Maine were surprised by the march, which took place within city limits during the afternoon.
“Why do men get to whip off their shirts at any time, and nobody bats an eyelash?” asked one of the protesters, Cecil Corson (female). Other women at the demonstration shared Cecil’s sentiments, all hoping that the protest would help change the current cultural perception that it is only acceptable for a man to take his shirt off in public. According to these demonstrators, women should have the exact same rights as men when it comes to being comfortable outside of the home.
How effective were they in changing perceptions? The reporters at johnnytubesteak.com were onsite to collect comments from witnesses.
- Joe P., Portland resident: “Hey did you see all those boobs? That was awesome!”
- Harold F., Portland resident: “Ja-Ja-Ja-Jugs!!!”
- Sam D., Westbrook, ME: “I like boobs.”
- Thomas K., Hartford, CT: “Topless broads are great, but there were really only about five good boobs out there today. The two blonde twins’ [breasts] were great, and there was a chubbier brunette that had one nice one.”
Police on the scene said that although no permits were filed for the demonstration, the protest was peaceful and did not create any major problems. Added Officer Joseph Trudeau, “It always makes work more enjoyable when chicks start whipping out their funbags.”
Jesse James has decided to receive treatment after a gunshot wound to his chest in Clay County, Missouri nearly took his life in the summer of 1864.
I apologize for the untimeliness of this report.
According to a report from his doctor, President Obama is in good health, with a BMI (Body Mass Index) of 23.7. Unfortunately, BMI is a severly flawed statistic, at least when being used independently to determine the health of an individual. Based on BMI ranges set by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Tom Cruise, Tom Brady, Brad Pitt, and Yao Ming are all overweight, while Mike Tyson, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, and Sylvester Stallone are all obese.
Thus, BMI, as it is currently defined, is useless. So what do we do?
I propose that we change the meaning of BMI from “Body Mass Index” to “Bowel Movement Index.” Instead of using BMI to gauge how fat we are, we can use BMI as an indicator of how badly we have to poop.
Here is how it will work: Your BMI (Bowel Movement Index) will be an estimation of how long you can hold your dump before messing your drawers. The number before the decimal is hours, and the number after the decimal is minutes. Thus, if you have a BMI of 0.7 while you’re driving on the highway, you’d better start looking for a rest area. Conversely, if you have a BMI of 34.5, you can plan on relieving yourself somewhere in South Dakota.
There’s no reason for all of us to continue perpetuating a worthless stat — let’s make it something real.
I’m Johnny Tubesteak, and I have a BMI of 8.6. (Every morning, like clockwork.)
I’d estimate this guy’s BMI at about 0.2.
Hong Kong Call Girl: “You’re Not Trying Hard Enough”
GM announced today that the sale of its Hummer brand to Chinese company Sichuan Tengzhong Heavy Industrial Machines Co., Ltd. fell through.
This leaves GM in a tough spot, but it also created a dilemma for me: I had two great double-entendre Hummer headlines, but I was unsure which one I should use as a headline in my blog post.
Ultimately, I went with the one you see above, but it narrowly beat out this one:
Sorry, World: No More Hummers
Married Men Everywhere: “What’s New?”
What do you think? Did I make the right choice? Are there any other headlines I should have considered?
According to reports, the town of Dorchester, Wisconsin is powered largely by the manure produced at a large dairy farm just outside of town. With a complex machine that turns cow dung into electrical power, the town has a bank of truly renewable energy.
More interesting to me are the things you hear in a town powered by cow manure. Here are my three favorites:
- “I’d like to thank whoever just farted for slightly improving the smell in the air.”
- “Your breath smells like crap. Thus, I cannot smell it and am willing to make out with you.”
- “I can’t wait to get to Gary, Indiana, where I can finally breathe some fresh air.”