Now you can tell right off that I’m no good,
By the bad-ass ensemble I wear.
And though these clothes strike fear (as they should,)
The dangerousest aspect is my hair.
Now you might think it seems quite tame,
These follicles attopin’ my dome.
But you’re not in on my secret fame,
As the proud owner of a switchblade comb.
Switchblade comb, switchblade comb,
You look like you’re a blade.
But switchblade comb, yeah switchblade comb,
It’s the most awesomefying charade.
I used to get teased mercilessly,
Then things went from bad to worsey.
But with my switchblade comb on me,
My teasers show me a bit more mercy.
Because it strikes fear into the hearts of men,
And it causes all the bullies to back way off.
If you cross me, you’ll see what happens then,
I’m gonna make you turn your head and coiff.
Switchblade comb, switchblade comb,
You won’t stab me in the heart.
But switchblade comb, yeah, switchblade comb,
You’ll give my hair a part.
If you’re really radicool then you’ll join in the fun,
You’ll feel such a thrill running it through your hair.
Bring a friend for fun with more than one,
If you can’t find a partner use a wooden chair.
Oh, switchblade comb, switchblade comb,
The world is watching you.
But switchblade comb, yeah, switchblade comb,
What are you gonna do?
And I say switchblade comb, switchblade comb,
You’re like a second had,
But switchblade comb, yeah, switchblade comb,
Not as much as my real second hand.
No, not as much as my real second hand.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
SACRILISTIOUS
TITLES OF SERMONS ATTEMPTING TO DRAW A YOUNGER CROWD
Mary Magdalene- No Hollaback Girl
Easter Sunday: Jesus & the Divine One-Up
Judas, the first Player Hater
The Great Flood: Extreme Makeover-Civilization Edition
Did Jesus Christ Use The Force?
EVENTS NOT CHRONICLED IN THE NEW TESTAMENT: JESUS AT COLLEGE
1. Makes a pony keg last for the entire Homecoming weekend.
2. Brings roommate back from the dead after he O.D.'s on quaaludes
3. Befriends a hooker, gains a following of frat boys.
4. Dates Mandi Lee
5. Performs ridiculously difficult dive at the swim meet, which ends with him walking on the water.
Mary Magdalene- No Hollaback Girl
Easter Sunday: Jesus & the Divine One-Up
Judas, the first Player Hater
The Great Flood: Extreme Makeover-Civilization Edition
Did Jesus Christ Use The Force?
EVENTS NOT CHRONICLED IN THE NEW TESTAMENT: JESUS AT COLLEGE
1. Makes a pony keg last for the entire Homecoming weekend.
2. Brings roommate back from the dead after he O.D.'s on quaaludes
3. Befriends a hooker, gains a following of frat boys.
4. Dates Mandi Lee
5. Performs ridiculously difficult dive at the swim meet, which ends with him walking on the water.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
UNSUBTLE POLITICAL KNOCK-KNOCK JOKES
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Dubya.
Dubya who?
George Dubya Bush, the President who stole the election.
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Bill O'Reilly.
Bill O'Reilly who?
Bill O'Reilly the arrogant asswipe.
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Donald.
Donald who?
Donald Wildmon, going door to door to impose my religious beliefs on the country.
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Osama Bin Laden.
Osama Bin Laden who?
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Osama Bin Laden.
Osama Bin Laden who?
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Osama Bin Laden.
Osama Bin Laden who?
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Osama Bin Laden.
Osama Bin Laden who?
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Osama Bin Laden.
Osama Bin Laden who?
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Saddam Hussein.
Saddam Hussein who?
Oh, I'm sorry, did I say Saddam Hussein. I meant Osama Bin Laden.
Who's there?
Dubya.
Dubya who?
George Dubya Bush, the President who stole the election.
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Bill O'Reilly.
Bill O'Reilly who?
Bill O'Reilly the arrogant asswipe.
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Donald.
Donald who?
Donald Wildmon, going door to door to impose my religious beliefs on the country.
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Osama Bin Laden.
Osama Bin Laden who?
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Osama Bin Laden.
Osama Bin Laden who?
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Osama Bin Laden.
Osama Bin Laden who?
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Osama Bin Laden.
Osama Bin Laden who?
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Osama Bin Laden.
Osama Bin Laden who?
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Saddam Hussein.
Saddam Hussein who?
Oh, I'm sorry, did I say Saddam Hussein. I meant Osama Bin Laden.
Monday, January 12, 2009
KEEPING IT REAL
I may be wonderful, but just like normal folk; I have my share of flaws. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been accused of over-perfection, and I’m normally a terrific counter! So, like you and yours and theirs, I am making a new year’s resolution. And that resolution is, put simply, keeping it real.
Many rumors abound regarding me, most of which began with a kernel of truth, but which, like a field crazy with corn, have grown way out of proportion. Some of these so-called “facts” were never facts to begin with (hence the ironic quotation marks) and were just taken to be true since so many people believed them, no matter how ridiculous. This phenomenon is not uncommon in our culture, and in fact has its roots in some of our favorite stories and films, like The War of the Worlds, The Blair Witch Project, The Jetsons Meet the Flintstones, and The Ten Commandments. I’m flattered by many of the tall tales attributed to me, and admire the gooftards who believe them, but it’s time to set the record straight. So here goes.
First of all, let’s address my strength. Yes, I am a formidable presence, and I have caused many a man to quake in his boots, and many a woman to quake in her flats. However, I have never held a black belt in Kung Fu, Judo, Karate, Sudoku, Turducken or any of the martially artistries. I’ve never killed a man with my stare, or given a trucker cancer of the face with my fists. I did carry a very heavy bureau (with the help of two others) and only complained intermittently of muscle trauma. Also, once, in a burst of adrenaline, I lifted three reference books at once, pausing only for a refreshing iced tea. When my neighbor threatened to tear out my victory garden, as it was encroaching on his lawn, I took no guff from him. I promised to take care of it, but I never did. And still, whenever he brings it up, I swear to have it remedied forthwith, and yet I do not remedy it anywith. The garden and I both remain victorious.
Now a word on sexual prowess. I’ve got it in spades, to be sure, but the ladies should be aware of what has been exaggerated, and what has most definitely not, before they embark upon sexual relations with me. I don’t want to get too salacious here, so I’ll address the fallacies and leave the rest to your sordid and no doubt accurate imaginations. To start, there have been whisperings of a certain technique at which I am an expert, which involves twirling an umbrella, clenching and unclenching my buttocks and a vaguely German accent. This is not a sexual technique; these are brief descriptions of deleted scenes from Robocop. Also, there’s a (mis)quote attributed to me I’d like to clarify. I have never said, “Foreplay is like a rodeo, which explains the strategically-placed barrels.” I would never say that! What I said was foreplay is like a rodeo clown, which makes a lot more sense. I was more specific in my analogy.
Lastly, I wanted to set the record straight on a few miscellanies. Yes, I was on the Yankees, and I did promise a sickly child that I would hit a home run for him, but he died before I went up to bat, so I didn’t bother. My nicknames were the Splendid Sliver and The Almost as Big Unit. I did lie when I said Cary Grant would be perfect to play me in a movie based on my life, the correct answer is in fact Little Richard. It is true I can hold my breath for up to five weeks, but it’s untrue that I have ever demonstrated this; I’ve chosen not to show off. And finally, I am humbled by the countless books that have been erroneously credited to me, under the assumption that I had ghostwritten them. While I’d love to have been able to do such a thing, I’ve found it highly difficult to ghostwrite, because I just cannot get the eyeholes right. Perhaps someday, in fact, it may become next year’s resolution. At any rate, I hope this dispels any rumors you may have heard, and reinforces any beliefs you have about me. Mark Twain once said, “A lie travels halfway around the world before the truth has put on its shoes.” Consider this, then, a truth shoehorn, or a truthhorn. And never forget the immortal words of Thor, who said, “I’m immortal, dammit, stop poking me with that thing.” These words are truly words with which to keep it real.
Many rumors abound regarding me, most of which began with a kernel of truth, but which, like a field crazy with corn, have grown way out of proportion. Some of these so-called “facts” were never facts to begin with (hence the ironic quotation marks) and were just taken to be true since so many people believed them, no matter how ridiculous. This phenomenon is not uncommon in our culture, and in fact has its roots in some of our favorite stories and films, like The War of the Worlds, The Blair Witch Project, The Jetsons Meet the Flintstones, and The Ten Commandments. I’m flattered by many of the tall tales attributed to me, and admire the gooftards who believe them, but it’s time to set the record straight. So here goes.
First of all, let’s address my strength. Yes, I am a formidable presence, and I have caused many a man to quake in his boots, and many a woman to quake in her flats. However, I have never held a black belt in Kung Fu, Judo, Karate, Sudoku, Turducken or any of the martially artistries. I’ve never killed a man with my stare, or given a trucker cancer of the face with my fists. I did carry a very heavy bureau (with the help of two others) and only complained intermittently of muscle trauma. Also, once, in a burst of adrenaline, I lifted three reference books at once, pausing only for a refreshing iced tea. When my neighbor threatened to tear out my victory garden, as it was encroaching on his lawn, I took no guff from him. I promised to take care of it, but I never did. And still, whenever he brings it up, I swear to have it remedied forthwith, and yet I do not remedy it anywith. The garden and I both remain victorious.
Now a word on sexual prowess. I’ve got it in spades, to be sure, but the ladies should be aware of what has been exaggerated, and what has most definitely not, before they embark upon sexual relations with me. I don’t want to get too salacious here, so I’ll address the fallacies and leave the rest to your sordid and no doubt accurate imaginations. To start, there have been whisperings of a certain technique at which I am an expert, which involves twirling an umbrella, clenching and unclenching my buttocks and a vaguely German accent. This is not a sexual technique; these are brief descriptions of deleted scenes from Robocop. Also, there’s a (mis)quote attributed to me I’d like to clarify. I have never said, “Foreplay is like a rodeo, which explains the strategically-placed barrels.” I would never say that! What I said was foreplay is like a rodeo clown, which makes a lot more sense. I was more specific in my analogy.
Lastly, I wanted to set the record straight on a few miscellanies. Yes, I was on the Yankees, and I did promise a sickly child that I would hit a home run for him, but he died before I went up to bat, so I didn’t bother. My nicknames were the Splendid Sliver and The Almost as Big Unit. I did lie when I said Cary Grant would be perfect to play me in a movie based on my life, the correct answer is in fact Little Richard. It is true I can hold my breath for up to five weeks, but it’s untrue that I have ever demonstrated this; I’ve chosen not to show off. And finally, I am humbled by the countless books that have been erroneously credited to me, under the assumption that I had ghostwritten them. While I’d love to have been able to do such a thing, I’ve found it highly difficult to ghostwrite, because I just cannot get the eyeholes right. Perhaps someday, in fact, it may become next year’s resolution. At any rate, I hope this dispels any rumors you may have heard, and reinforces any beliefs you have about me. Mark Twain once said, “A lie travels halfway around the world before the truth has put on its shoes.” Consider this, then, a truth shoehorn, or a truthhorn. And never forget the immortal words of Thor, who said, “I’m immortal, dammit, stop poking me with that thing.” These words are truly words with which to keep it real.
Friday, January 9, 2009
THE GAFFE SQUAD: CLASSIC LITERATURE EDITION
CATCHER IN THE RYE: When his roommate asks him what he is reading, Holden Caulfield replies, “Goddam book.” He is actually reading the Bible, which God has yet to damnify.
THE ODYSSEY: The author credited to this epic poem is Homer, however Homer is blind and could not read nor write nor talk with his eyes.
ROMEO & JULIET: There’s a misspelling on page 75.
THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN: When Huck and Jim are rafting down the Mississippi River, Huck’s hat switches from his left hand to his right. Also, Jim is briefly an Indian.
ULYSSESS: Leopold Bloom trips on page 124, and slowly rises to his feet, but is on the ground again on page 125.
OLIVER TWIST: The Sprite bottle Fagin drinks from on page 348 is empty, but is almost full again on page 349. Oliver’s hair changes color from Chapter 13 to Chapter 14.
ON THE ROAD: “That’s not writing, that’s typing,” Truman Capote famously quipped. He was in fact, both right and wrong. It was writing on a typewriter.
STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND: Binding is loose between chapters 19 and 20.
THE SPY WHO CAME IN FROM THE COLD: It was actually a balmy 45 degrees the spy came in from. However, some believe, “the Cold” in the title is a metaphor; it doesn’t explain why the spy literally came in from the comfortably temperate.
THE ODYSSEY: The author credited to this epic poem is Homer, however Homer is blind and could not read nor write nor talk with his eyes.
ROMEO & JULIET: There’s a misspelling on page 75.
THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN: When Huck and Jim are rafting down the Mississippi River, Huck’s hat switches from his left hand to his right. Also, Jim is briefly an Indian.
ULYSSESS: Leopold Bloom trips on page 124, and slowly rises to his feet, but is on the ground again on page 125.
OLIVER TWIST: The Sprite bottle Fagin drinks from on page 348 is empty, but is almost full again on page 349. Oliver’s hair changes color from Chapter 13 to Chapter 14.
ON THE ROAD: “That’s not writing, that’s typing,” Truman Capote famously quipped. He was in fact, both right and wrong. It was writing on a typewriter.
STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND: Binding is loose between chapters 19 and 20.
THE SPY WHO CAME IN FROM THE COLD: It was actually a balmy 45 degrees the spy came in from. However, some believe, “the Cold” in the title is a metaphor; it doesn’t explain why the spy literally came in from the comfortably temperate.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
MYCROFT SCHWARZ, MATH DETECTIVE!
(Cross, a villain is snatching a priceless antique. His henchman, Felder, assists with all the heavy lifting.)
CROSS: Tee hee ha! No one will ever suspect us of foul play, Felder. And if they try to investigate the crime scene, I’ll stymie them up so much, they’ll be confounded until next Christmas!
FELDER: But how do you plan to do that, Mr. Cross?
CROSS: Simple. I’ll leave this impossible to solve math query. Good luck, police chumps!
FELDER: The square root of 15? Crakes, they’ll be scratching their heads over that one for a lifetime of head-scratches.
CROSS: Indeed, my dear, sweet, malfeasant ally. A lifetime of head-scratches indeed.
(They laugh in an evil manner. Then they take the antique quickly, as the alarm is triggered. We cut to the City Police Department, where Mycroft is showing off his enormous powers to Chief Tanny.)
MYCROFT: Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, sir. Six times six equals thirty-six.
TANNY: (After a stunned pause.) How… do you DO that?
MYCROFT: It’s a gift, but it’s also a curse, Chief.
TANNY: Zounds! I can see how it’s a gift, but a curse? Homina wha?
MYCROFT: It’s… difficult for me to explain without the aid of a Venn Diagram.
TANNY: The deuce, you say.
MYCROFT: I never said two…
(Cadet Koppel races into the Chief’s office, spoiling the delicious ambience the room had until then wallowed in.)
KOPPEL: Chief, Chief, big news, big news!
TANNY: News? Big? Expectorate it, Cadet Koppel, straightaways!
KOPPEL: The World’s Most Priceless Antique, it’s been- it’s been-
TANNY: What? Been what, has it been?
KOPPEL: Stolen, Chief Tanny, it’s been stolen.
TANNY: Stolen, as if it were a common antique. How dare they!
KOPPEL: But- but- that’s not all, Chief. There’s actually more!
TANNY: I refuse to believe it!
KOPPEL: But there is! They left this clue behind.
MYCROFT: Let me see that.
KOPPEL: I’m afraid I can’t authorize you to be able to snatch that from me, stranger. You do not have the snatching authorization.
TANNY: Cadet Koppel, this is the estimable Mycroft Schwarz, Math Detective. And as the Chief Tanny, I bestow all over him full snatch authorization.
MYCROFT: Thank you, Chief. Why… this is a mathematical clue!
TANNY: Saints preserve us! What kind of foul, shady, no-good unpreserved-by-saints crook would leave such a clue?
MYCROFT: Only one. Plus one.
KOPPEL: One plus one? You don’t mean…
MYCROFT: The deuce, I say. Namely, those deuces are named Cross and Felder. And those deuces have left one doozy of a problem, here. The square root of 15. This shall take all of my mathematical knowledge, and even then, I can’t be certain I can solve it.
TANNY: Surely you jest, Senor Schwarz.
MYCROFT: Nay, I dare not jest when it comes to the mathematical sciences. It would be like spitting in the crack of the Creator.
KOPPEL: Gasp!
MYCROFT: I must retire to my Math Lab to calculate this equation. I shall return only when and ONLY when I have solved it.
TANNY: Saints prepackage us; we shall await your return.
KOPPEL: Do I have to?
(We see Mycroft crumpling papers, banging his head on his desk, drinking heavily, writing and erasing and re-writing on a clear board, typing into a computer, and finally, asleep at his desk, he arises with a look of triumph on his face. We then cut to Cross and Felder, sipping cocoa, their feet propped up on the priceless antique.)
CROSS: Where’d you get this cocoa from anyway?
FELDER: It’s Swiss Miss.
CROSS: No way! But it tastes so creamy and fresh, you’d hardly tell it was instant.
FELDER: Oh, I agree. Swiss Miss makes the best cocoa ever. Aside from the homemade stuff.
CROSS: Oh, this doesn’t hold a candle to that.
(Mycroft bursts in.)
MYCROFT: Looking for something?
CROSS: Mycroft Schwarz, my sworn enemy! Where you been?
MYCROFT: Waiting, waiting for the right moment.
FELDER: How did you find us? And where?
MYCROFT: Pretty sneaky clue you left behind, it took me the better part of a scene to solve it, but then I knew I’d find you here- at 3.8729833462074168851792653997824 Brookview Avenue.
CROSS: Curses!
TANNY: You’ll be cursing a lot. In jail.
KOPPEL: That’s right. Jail cursing.
TANNY: Say, is that the curse you were talking about before, Mycroft?
MYCROFT: Not even close, you magnificent asshat.
(Everyone laughs at Mycroft’s piercing wit. Then it’s The End.)
CROSS: Tee hee ha! No one will ever suspect us of foul play, Felder. And if they try to investigate the crime scene, I’ll stymie them up so much, they’ll be confounded until next Christmas!
FELDER: But how do you plan to do that, Mr. Cross?
CROSS: Simple. I’ll leave this impossible to solve math query. Good luck, police chumps!
FELDER: The square root of 15? Crakes, they’ll be scratching their heads over that one for a lifetime of head-scratches.
CROSS: Indeed, my dear, sweet, malfeasant ally. A lifetime of head-scratches indeed.
(They laugh in an evil manner. Then they take the antique quickly, as the alarm is triggered. We cut to the City Police Department, where Mycroft is showing off his enormous powers to Chief Tanny.)
MYCROFT: Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, sir. Six times six equals thirty-six.
TANNY: (After a stunned pause.) How… do you DO that?
MYCROFT: It’s a gift, but it’s also a curse, Chief.
TANNY: Zounds! I can see how it’s a gift, but a curse? Homina wha?
MYCROFT: It’s… difficult for me to explain without the aid of a Venn Diagram.
TANNY: The deuce, you say.
MYCROFT: I never said two…
(Cadet Koppel races into the Chief’s office, spoiling the delicious ambience the room had until then wallowed in.)
KOPPEL: Chief, Chief, big news, big news!
TANNY: News? Big? Expectorate it, Cadet Koppel, straightaways!
KOPPEL: The World’s Most Priceless Antique, it’s been- it’s been-
TANNY: What? Been what, has it been?
KOPPEL: Stolen, Chief Tanny, it’s been stolen.
TANNY: Stolen, as if it were a common antique. How dare they!
KOPPEL: But- but- that’s not all, Chief. There’s actually more!
TANNY: I refuse to believe it!
KOPPEL: But there is! They left this clue behind.
MYCROFT: Let me see that.
KOPPEL: I’m afraid I can’t authorize you to be able to snatch that from me, stranger. You do not have the snatching authorization.
TANNY: Cadet Koppel, this is the estimable Mycroft Schwarz, Math Detective. And as the Chief Tanny, I bestow all over him full snatch authorization.
MYCROFT: Thank you, Chief. Why… this is a mathematical clue!
TANNY: Saints preserve us! What kind of foul, shady, no-good unpreserved-by-saints crook would leave such a clue?
MYCROFT: Only one. Plus one.
KOPPEL: One plus one? You don’t mean…
MYCROFT: The deuce, I say. Namely, those deuces are named Cross and Felder. And those deuces have left one doozy of a problem, here. The square root of 15. This shall take all of my mathematical knowledge, and even then, I can’t be certain I can solve it.
TANNY: Surely you jest, Senor Schwarz.
MYCROFT: Nay, I dare not jest when it comes to the mathematical sciences. It would be like spitting in the crack of the Creator.
KOPPEL: Gasp!
MYCROFT: I must retire to my Math Lab to calculate this equation. I shall return only when and ONLY when I have solved it.
TANNY: Saints prepackage us; we shall await your return.
KOPPEL: Do I have to?
(We see Mycroft crumpling papers, banging his head on his desk, drinking heavily, writing and erasing and re-writing on a clear board, typing into a computer, and finally, asleep at his desk, he arises with a look of triumph on his face. We then cut to Cross and Felder, sipping cocoa, their feet propped up on the priceless antique.)
CROSS: Where’d you get this cocoa from anyway?
FELDER: It’s Swiss Miss.
CROSS: No way! But it tastes so creamy and fresh, you’d hardly tell it was instant.
FELDER: Oh, I agree. Swiss Miss makes the best cocoa ever. Aside from the homemade stuff.
CROSS: Oh, this doesn’t hold a candle to that.
(Mycroft bursts in.)
MYCROFT: Looking for something?
CROSS: Mycroft Schwarz, my sworn enemy! Where you been?
MYCROFT: Waiting, waiting for the right moment.
FELDER: How did you find us? And where?
MYCROFT: Pretty sneaky clue you left behind, it took me the better part of a scene to solve it, but then I knew I’d find you here- at 3.8729833462074168851792653997824 Brookview Avenue.
CROSS: Curses!
TANNY: You’ll be cursing a lot. In jail.
KOPPEL: That’s right. Jail cursing.
TANNY: Say, is that the curse you were talking about before, Mycroft?
MYCROFT: Not even close, you magnificent asshat.
(Everyone laughs at Mycroft’s piercing wit. Then it’s The End.)
Monday, January 5, 2009
FISTFIGHT CIRCUS!
Come one, come everyone, to the first and only circus of its kind, Bix’s Fistfight Circus! Tired of the same old big top, with boring acrobats, depressing clowns and lion tamers with unflattering asses? You’ll find none of these at my circus. What you’ll find is more exciting- fistfights!
Have you ever seen a grizzly bear bitch-slapped by a gorilla? Step right up! Ever seen two clowns knocked unconscious simultaneously? Step right up! Ever seen a trapeze artist take one in the breadbasket mid-flight? Brother, you best step right up, because I’ve got the treat of the century.
You were probably under the false impression that circus performers were jolly, positive, non-violent types. Well, we’ve tapped into one aspect of circus performers no one has tapped into before: resentment. You don’t think the Human Cannonball has a beef with That Guy Who Walks Around On Stilts? Think again. How about the Magician and the Sword Swallower? Lots of bad blood there. And don’t get me started on the elephants. You practically have to hold them back whenever anybody affiliated with the circus passes by. Well, elephant hold back no more! Those big old sacks of potatoes are free to knock the block clear off whoever they want. Firebreather, Contortionist, the elephant trainers, you name it.
And just like the classic circus of yore-times, we haven’t left out the Freak Show. And yes, they’re raring to throw some punches as well. We’ve got that hermaphroditic he/she guy who fights amongst him/herself, we’ve got a Dog-Faced Boy who not only punches, he bites! There’s the Haiku Triplets, ages 5, 7 and 5; they’re young but scrappy and not unlike their arch-nemesis the Dog-Faced Boy they’re not afraid to bite. We have Siamese Twins too, though fair warning, they aren’t actually conjoined, just twins who happen to be from Siam. And like most freak shows we’ve got a lady with a beard- on her face! Like, right directly smack on her face. And she’s the meanest of all, which probably stems from the beard she has. And she’s a lady! But really, it’s a crazy mishmash melee of beatings like Road House meets the circus. Which is the best circus of all time, I guarantee you that for free.
Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. It’s not exactly family friendly. But come on, ten years from now, is your kid really gonna remember your average run-of-the-mill circus, or are they gonna remember the all-out-orgy-of-violence that is Fistfight Circus? Which takes all the whimsy of your old-fashioned circus memories and beat them like a red-headed step-child? Fistfight Circus is the Official Circus of Bruised Ginger Step-Kids. That’s a promise from me straight out to you, or my name ain’t Bix, like the bandleader, or the pen with an X.
So, come on down. The natives are restless, as they say, and I can’t keep them from each other’s throatses much longer. Also, be advised for your own safety, you shouldn’t attend Fistfight Circus unless you can defend yourself and your loved ones, and that Bix’s Fistfight Circus is not liable for any injuries caused by Bix’s Fistfight Circus, such as whiplash, tooth loss, bloody nose, loss of breath, loss of limb, children apparel or memory, and cirrhosis. But theses instances are relatively rareish. So please, come on down. We’re located at my house, 15 Spring Street, in the backyard, probably spilling into the neighbors’ yards. It’s gonna be classic!
Have you ever seen a grizzly bear bitch-slapped by a gorilla? Step right up! Ever seen two clowns knocked unconscious simultaneously? Step right up! Ever seen a trapeze artist take one in the breadbasket mid-flight? Brother, you best step right up, because I’ve got the treat of the century.
You were probably under the false impression that circus performers were jolly, positive, non-violent types. Well, we’ve tapped into one aspect of circus performers no one has tapped into before: resentment. You don’t think the Human Cannonball has a beef with That Guy Who Walks Around On Stilts? Think again. How about the Magician and the Sword Swallower? Lots of bad blood there. And don’t get me started on the elephants. You practically have to hold them back whenever anybody affiliated with the circus passes by. Well, elephant hold back no more! Those big old sacks of potatoes are free to knock the block clear off whoever they want. Firebreather, Contortionist, the elephant trainers, you name it.
And just like the classic circus of yore-times, we haven’t left out the Freak Show. And yes, they’re raring to throw some punches as well. We’ve got that hermaphroditic he/she guy who fights amongst him/herself, we’ve got a Dog-Faced Boy who not only punches, he bites! There’s the Haiku Triplets, ages 5, 7 and 5; they’re young but scrappy and not unlike their arch-nemesis the Dog-Faced Boy they’re not afraid to bite. We have Siamese Twins too, though fair warning, they aren’t actually conjoined, just twins who happen to be from Siam. And like most freak shows we’ve got a lady with a beard- on her face! Like, right directly smack on her face. And she’s the meanest of all, which probably stems from the beard she has. And she’s a lady! But really, it’s a crazy mishmash melee of beatings like Road House meets the circus. Which is the best circus of all time, I guarantee you that for free.
Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. It’s not exactly family friendly. But come on, ten years from now, is your kid really gonna remember your average run-of-the-mill circus, or are they gonna remember the all-out-orgy-of-violence that is Fistfight Circus? Which takes all the whimsy of your old-fashioned circus memories and beat them like a red-headed step-child? Fistfight Circus is the Official Circus of Bruised Ginger Step-Kids. That’s a promise from me straight out to you, or my name ain’t Bix, like the bandleader, or the pen with an X.
So, come on down. The natives are restless, as they say, and I can’t keep them from each other’s throatses much longer. Also, be advised for your own safety, you shouldn’t attend Fistfight Circus unless you can defend yourself and your loved ones, and that Bix’s Fistfight Circus is not liable for any injuries caused by Bix’s Fistfight Circus, such as whiplash, tooth loss, bloody nose, loss of breath, loss of limb, children apparel or memory, and cirrhosis. But theses instances are relatively rareish. So please, come on down. We’re located at my house, 15 Spring Street, in the backyard, probably spilling into the neighbors’ yards. It’s gonna be classic!
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