- No — they fail you!
- As if they don’t, as well, sometimes also fail you, too. Sometimes.
Bore Vidal. - Just fuckin’ with you, man.
- Yeah? Well, self-defense fails you.
- Fat lips fail Gore Vidal. [Note: could lead to retaliatory kiss.]
- Maybe, but my fist is a success!
- Just wanted to see if a black eye twinkles.
- Nice try, Myra Breckenridge.
- I don’t need that many as long as I’ve got my favorite two: “knuckle
sandwich.” - Yep - and as soon as you get up, they’re gonna fail me once more.
Amazon Rankings of Children’s Books by Christopher Hitchens
Other Entities That Are Not Great, According to an Inebriated but Still Quite Formidable Christopher Hitchens
Alexander the Great
A thieving, fanatical Albanian dwarf. Wait. That’s what I said about Mother Theresa. My usually encyclopedic memory has perhaps been muddied a bit by that third bottle of Black Label. A buggering, megalomaniacal Macedonian midget. There, that’s much better. Though one must concede that Alexander could famously imbibe gallons of the wine-skinned swill of his age and still remain standing—nay, defiant—a trait I wholeheartedly admire and endorse.
Raping and pillaging ones way across half the globe hardly qualifies one for greatness per se, though one could say that at least Alexander did something proactive, unlike the cringing, odious cowards of the Left. They seem content to acquiesce and appease, like fucking Chamberlain kowtowing to das Fuhrer, while real men of courage like George W. Bush and Dick Cheney stand and fight—nay, volunteer—for service in … er … well, regardless, I’m still right about Iraq. Fuck off.
The Great Wall of China
This supposedly impenetrable structure hardly kept those fucking unwashed Mongols from invading and subjugating their supposedly “divine” middle kingdom. Speaking of divinity, the Chinese insistence that their emperor was the “son of heaven” smacks of that most corrupt and pernicious of all evils, religion.
One could say the Chinese almost deserved to have the Mongols overwhelm them. But saying so would infer the existence of the aforementioned divinity, in its infamous guise of “retribution.” This quaint notion is of course paradoxically disproved by the success of immoral abominations as Henry Kissinger, Jerry Falwell, and that true pillar of fraud and malfeasance, Mother Theresa.
Alas, the impractical battlement is utterly porous when compared to the stalwart adamantine barriers against Islamofascism erected by the intrepid and prescient Mr. Bush, much to the chagrin of my spineless antagonists on the Left, especially the intellectually stunted sycophants at The Nation.
They’d like nothing more than to verily throw open the gates of western civilization to terrorists and jihadists—nay, invite—them in for fucking lemonade. Virgin of course, lest they offend their guests fragile religious sensibilities. As the great W.C. Fields once remarked, “Never trust a man who doesn’t drink”; the obvious corollary to this is always trust one who does, especially one who can drink enough for three stout men, yet still remain lucid—nay, triumphant—scattering his bleating rivals before him.
Wayne Gretsky
A simpering Bambi narcissist. Wait. Damn, that’s what I called Princess Diana. Seriously, can one be considered “great” based on one’s excellence in a gross physical activity? Or in anything regarded by the unwashed masses as “sport”? True fucking sport involves the verbal evisceration and humiliation of one’s sputtering and overmatched foes, preferably in a charged public forum, before a gasping throng of cowed but fawning spectators.
Also he never had to contend with the vicious cross-checking and man-marking that Mario Lemieaux suffered through on a nightly basis. One is reminded of the constant barrage from the caterwauling liberal press on the indefatigable Mr. Bush.
Alas, the peace-mongering Canadians’ insistence on deifying “the Great One” is simply replacing one false god with another, though at least Gretsky has video evidence of his “greatness”, unlike Jesus or Mohammed, or that thieving bitch Mother Theresa.
Frosted Flakes
The rabid frothing of their pathetic anthropomorphic tiger mascot notwithstanding, these “flakes” decompose in seconds into an insipid, over-sweet slurry, not unlike the sugarcoated pap generated by the insipid dolts infesting the cubicles at The Nation.
Now if you’ll excuse me I have to get something solid to eat to help forestall an imminent buggering hangover. Sod off.
Amazon Rankings of Children’s Books by Christopher Hitchens
Other Entities That Are Not Great, According to an Inebriated but Still Quite Formidable Christopher Hitchens
Alexander the Great
A thieving, fanatical Albanian dwarf. Wait. That’s what I said about Mother Theresa. My usually encyclopedic memory has perhaps been muddied a bit by that third bottle of Black Label. A buggering, megalomaniacal Macedonian midget. There, that’s much better. Though one must concede that Alexander could famously imbibe gallons of the wine-skinned swill of his age and still remain standing—nay, defiant—a trait I wholeheartedly admire and endorse.
Raping and pillaging ones way across half the globe hardly qualifies one for greatness per se, though one could say that at least Alexander did something proactive, unlike the cringing, odious cowards of the Left. They seem content to acquiesce and appease, like fucking Chamberlain kowtowing to das Fuhrer, while real men of courage like George W. Bush and Dick Cheney stand and fight—nay, volunteer—for service in … er … well, regardless, I’m still right about Iraq. Fuck off.
The Great Wall of China
This supposedly impenetrable structure hardly kept those fucking unwashed Mongols from invading and subjugating their supposedly “divine” middle kingdom. Speaking of divinity, the Chinese insistence that their emperor was the “son of heaven” smacks of that most corrupt and pernicious of all evils, religion.
One could say the Chinese almost deserved to have the Mongols overwhelm them. But saying so would infer the existence of the aforementioned divinity, in its infamous guise of “retribution.” This quaint notion is of course paradoxically disproved by the success of immoral abominations as Henry Kissinger, Jerry Falwell, and that true pillar of fraud and malfeasance, Mother Theresa.
Alas, the impractical battlement is utterly porous when compared to the stalwart adamantine barriers against Islamofascism erected by the intrepid and prescient Mr. Bush, much to the chagrin of my spineless antagonists on the Left, especially the intellectually stunted sycophants at The Nation.
They’d like nothing more than to verily throw open the gates of western civilization to terrorists and jihadists—nay, invite—them in for fucking lemonade. Virgin of course, lest they offend their guests fragile religious sensibilities. As the great W.C. Fields once remarked, “Never trust a man who doesn’t drink”; the obvious corollary to this is always trust one who does, especially one who can drink enough for three stout men, yet still remain lucid—nay, triumphant—scattering his bleating rivals before him.
Wayne Gretsky
A simpering Bambi narcissist. Wait. Damn, that’s what I called Princess Diana. Seriously, can one be considered “great” based on one’s excellence in a gross physical activity? Or in anything regarded by the unwashed masses as “sport”? True fucking sport involves the verbal evisceration and humiliation of one’s sputtering and overmatched foes, preferably in a charged public forum, before a gasping throng of cowed but fawning spectators.
Also he never had to contend with the vicious cross-checking and man-marking that Mario Lemieaux suffered through on a nightly basis. One is reminded of the constant barrage from the caterwauling liberal press on the indefatigable Mr. Bush.
Alas, the peace-mongering Canadians’ insistence on deifying “the Great One” is simply replacing one false god with another, though at least Gretsky has video evidence of his “greatness”, unlike Jesus or Mohammed, or that thieving bitch Mother Theresa.
Frosted Flakes
The rabid frothing of their pathetic anthropomorphic tiger mascot notwithstanding, these “flakes” decompose in seconds into an insipid, over-sweet slurry, not unlike the sugarcoated pap generated by the insipid dolts infesting the cubicles at The Nation.
Now if you’ll excuse me I have to get something solid to eat to help forestall an imminent buggering hangover. Sod off.
T |
his e-mail will serve to inform you that your subscription to Netflix has been canceled. We found out what you did, and we think it’s disgusting.
This e-mail will also serve as notice that you are no longer a member of the Y.M.C.A. The Y is a community organization and has served families in this area for more than a hundred years, while encouraging healthy lifestyles and active citizenship for all. Naturally, we don’t want someone like you hanging around.
Additionally, the state D.O.T. is revoking your driver’s license. In the event of your death, you will not be allowed to donate your organs. No one wants them anymore.
The session of jury duty you served last year has been stricken from the record and the case on which you served will be retried. Had we known then what we know now, you would not have been called.
While your health insurance cannot be stripped from you, even under these circumstances, your provider has created a plan designed specifically for you that will not cover any expenses but will deduct a significantly higher amount from your paycheck every two weeks. It’s better than you deserve.
On second thought, you’re fired.
Not to mention: Your dry cleaning has been incinerated, the remaining value of your gift cards and gift certificates has been electronically deleted, your contributions to various charities will be returned, your electricity will be shut off in three days, no one will compliment your appearance, all your jokes will fall flat, someone will vandalize the front door of your apartment, and you will forget how to whistle.
Also, your mother has disowned you.
Finally, this e-mail will be your last e-mail. People like you should not be allowed to communicate on the Internet. You’ll just make things worse than they already are.
We just thought you should know.
Sincerely,
Everyone
Apostles: The Original Entourage
TEASER TRAILER
INT. RESTAURANT — NIGHT
Jane’s Addiction song “Superhero” plays. JESUS and APOSTLE ERIC enter the modest establishment, where Eric approaches the OWNER.
APOSTLE ERIC
Hi, I’m with Jesus. We’ll need a table for 12…
INT. RESTAURANT — NIGHT - MINUTES LATER
Jesus holds court with the Apostles.
JESUS
Waiter, could I have another bottle of wine—or water … whatever!
Big laughs from the whole table.
EXT. MARKETPLACE-DAY
Jesus, APOSTLE DRAMA and APOSTLE TURTLE are browsing when a comely MARY MAGDALENE crosses their path. She flirts outrageously with Jesus, who likes what he sees.
APOSTLE TURTLE
(to Jesus)
God damn, Mary Magdalene is a MILK—a Mary I’d like to knoweth!
APOSTLE DRAMA
I’m not sure about this Mary Magdalene chick, bro. I think she might be a frankincense digger, bro…
APOSTLE TURTLE
Oh, what do you know—you jerk off so much, you have stigmata!
A group of ROMAN SOLDIERS appear on the scene—and they heckle Jesus.
SOLDIER
Yo, Jesus! I saw a vision of your mother last night—and let me tell you, she’s no Virgin!
Apostle Drama goes over to punch the soldier—but Jesus holds him back.
JESUS
We must turn the other cheek, my brother.
APOSTLE DRAMA
(muttering, frustrated)
Turn the other ass-cheek is more like it … Those Romans are such Messiah-haters!
INT. CAVE — DAY
APOSTLE ARI is yelling at Jesus.
INT. JAIL — DAYAPOSTLE ARI
I just got a scroll from Pontus Pilate—he’s calling for your crucifixion! You need to start acting like the King of the Jews—and stop acting like the Queen of the Jews!
(holds stomach suddenly)
Damn, I shouldn’t have asked you to multiply all of those fish … I think I’ve got mercury poisoning … Lloyd!
Jesus is behind bars, being visited by Apostles Turtle, Ari, Drama and Eric.
JESUS
Well, I can’t say I didn’t I didn’t see it coming. Judas. Jew, Dis. He’s a Jew, he sure did dis me. I told him he’d deny me three times before the cock crowed…
APOSTLE TURTLE
Whoa, whoa—why are we in a jail cell talking about cock?
EXT. JAIL — DAY
Apostle Eric addresses his fellow Apostles forlornly.
APOSTLE ERIC
Fellas, if Jesus suffers and dies on the cross for this, we’ll lose everything.
APOSTLE DRAMA
No, he won’t. If he gets crucified, he’ll come back and be stronger than ever.
(yells)
Jesus will rise again!
A title credit comes up:
Avast! Spoiler Warning
If you’re of the sort who gets all pissy about cats being let out of bags. Um, also, we should point out that the author, Ms. Verlizzo, did not forewarn the noble Y.P.R. editors and thus ruined the book for us before we cracked its spine. If anyone would like to purchase an unopened copy of H.P.A.T.H.B.P., please send a nickel. Denial Anger Lauren Verlizzo is a teacher recovering from an injury, about which she writes lots of angst-ridden journal entries. She has never been published, except for a poem about monkeys in her sixth-grade literary journal and a heartwrenching letter to the editor in the November 1, 2004, edition of New York magazine.
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Memo: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Guy.
Amy Shearn’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Salt Hill, Passages North, 3rdBed, Lyric Review, Surgery of Modern Warfare, Zulkey.com, GutCult, and elsewhere. Also, she can touch her nose with her tongue.
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