The Death Star Was Full Of Puppies, You Heartless Bastard!
First off, I love Jay Pinkerton. Not in a gay way, more in a prison bunkmate way. If we were bunkmates I’m sure we’d watch each others backs, and make sure no one made the other one their bitch. We’d probably have long, thoughtful strolls during our yard time where we’d dream up hilarious, yet thought provoking satire of American pop culture. And when one of us got paroled, we would hug in the completely heterosexual way that only two men who shared deep admiration for one another’s uncompromising integrity and talent could. Then we would kiss. But in the same completely non gay way that only two men who had been without the company of women for way too long could.
He’s brilliant. That’s why he’s an editor for national lampoon and I’m an underrated peon, lost in the cold dark abyss of the internet.
Anyway, I believe you’ll find if you head on over to his forums that he’s somehow captured all of our angst and frustration over the miserable failure Lucas has turned the star wars franchise into, found the humor just under the surface, flattened it out and wrapped it around a tasty egg mcmuffin. Head on over and enjoy. (Photoshop Fun: Star Wars VII-IX)
April 11th, 2005 at 10:45 am
Yeah, Ed… That first paragraph: not disturbing at all. Really.
April 20th, 2005 at 7:26 am
Ed, I understand this love you speak of, for I too once shared this with a man, but that was a long time ago when I was young, we’ve grown apart since then, him and I, but I’ll never forget the love that we shared that one perfect summer and the promise I made, which, I will always keep…
that one perfect summer on Gordan Street… it was completely heterosexual of course… if I could just smell his scent once more, even now…
April 20th, 2005 at 3:16 pm
To Pope Ramalamadingdong XVIII:
Do you remember me you sick bastard. I was choirboy when you were still just an archduke. It was 10 years ago and you were still droning on about that magic summer where you crossed paths with a wandering, transsexual schizophrenic that you found on Gordon Street. You molested me every night saying his name over and over again, LaShanda…LaShanda…