A Dose of Humor

There's been a few no-post days at the "Huffington's Post" parody "Huffington's Toast," and their Cindy Sheehan work was arguably not funny enough to justify the meanness. But when I read the account of Hunter S. Thompson's "funeral," Johnny Depp Fisted My Ash, I almost blurted Aquafina out both nostrils.

Here the ghost of Hunter encounters the shade of Nixon in a bar after the big event.

"What brings you to this freak show, anyway?” “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he said, “I just wish I could have been there to gloat when you decorated the ceiling with your tonsils.” “You always were a vengeful bastard,” I noted. “Believe it, bunkie,” he sneered, “by the way, I emptied your cat’s litterbox into the third load of ashes.” “Well,” I said, “the insult is well understood, but it’s worth it if it gives Wenner hookworms.”

...

“Think of what that money could have been used for,” said Nixon, “Cancer research. Tsunami relief. Golf course architecture.” “A hefty donation to the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws,” I added, helpfully, “Although they’d probably just misplace the check or spend it on Oreos.”

Just then we were interrupted by George McGovern, who was an honored guest at the event. “Dick! Hunter!”, he exclaimed, “It’s great to see both of you! Oh, dear. Does this mean I’m dead?” After the way the man let me down in ’72, I was hoping to see a replay of the boxing glove, but Nixon must have sensed it and not wanted to give me the satisfaction, because all he did was shake McGovern’s hand and ask whatever happened to Eagleton. “Died in the nuthouse, I assume,” said Nixon. “No,” said McGovern, “I believe he’s an academic.” Nixon snorted. “Same difference.”

* * *

Meanwhile, The Religious Policeman writes up an imaginary press conference announcing the (true) effort by Saudi Arabia to lure more tourists:

RP: So anyone can fly into Riyadh or Jeddah and just pick up a visa at the airport?

M: Men can, certainly, and married couples, as long as they can prove they're married, so they'll need to bring a Marriage Certificate, four copies translated into Arabic and certified by a lawyer. Not a Jewish lawyer, naturally. Women, on the other hand, will need to be sponsored by someone inside Saudi Arabia.

RP: But suppose they don't know anyone in the country?

M: Well, we can't help them there, can we? We're not a Dating Agency.

RP: And what about couples who aren't married, or gay couples?

M: Well as you know, we behead homosexuals, and stone adulterous or loose women to death, so it's probably best if we don't let them in in the first place, otherwise there'll be no end of paperwork.

He's also got a link to what you ladies will need to wear to those Red Sea beach resorts.