Obama just won the Nobel Peace Prize. Appearantly there are 3 categories: Physics, literature, and doing absoultely nothing. Can y'guess which category Obama fell under? Hint: the previous winner of this category was the Pet Rock.

WRITTEN BY BRANDON C JONES (MR. J) 2009

Parenthetically, what's the contribution to the men in blue from the copper cartoonist that traces chalk outlines of homicide victims, alright?

Really, is a giant sized gingerbread man silhouette the pivotal point in cracking a cold case, huh?

I mean c'mon, has the alum from Stencil Art Academy gotten shelves full of citations from the mayor for his hop scotch detective digging?

Truth be told, I think in the past the commissioner probably encouraged the absurdity of the armature artistic arrester and I assume he adhered to it arrogantly, right?

 "Detective on behalf of the dept. I want you to know that…"

"Know that???"

"…That sure the DA had a signed confession, eye witness, and prints on the murder weapon but..."

"But???"

"…But your John Doe doodles on the pavement canvas beneath our feet is what keeps scum off the streets. You're the only thing standing between chalk and chaos."

"Yeah. Being a hero isn't a choice. It's just what I do."

Lets face it folks, from now on in the future the chalk chasers should color them in after they scribe the surrounding edge, you know?

Yeah that’s right, so it doesn't compare to a Salvador Dali homage to Casper.

Seriously how much of a clue could it be when it resembles a white shadow flattened by a steam roller, huh?

Look how are you going to get a hunch when they all mimic a pale power ranger Putty after being squeezed through a mail slot, okay?

Incidentally, listen nowadays who hasn't seen on TV when a police Picasso carbon copies the corpse with a thin white border before the carcass is hauled off to the morgue?

Bottom-line, if they are veraciously viewed as the star studded silver surfers of the squad then I would commit a crime on an enormous chalk eraser, boom!

Hey, it's the perfect crime, yeahhh!

And subsequently, you wouldn't even need an alibi, badabooyashaka!!!

Now look, the last thing I want is to jostle my jabbering jowls like a PEZ-DISPENSER propelling PELLETS of precipitous postulations so PREACHY that I make REV. JIM JONES serving Kewl-Aide…look more LAID BACK than a RECLINED LAZY BOY on the SIDE of SLANTED STEEP SLOPE, okay?

But truth be told, nowadays we DROOL over celebrities the same way Gargamell would DROOL over a seasoned sautéed Smirfette sulfate with the drunken munchies, alright?

They are the precious-pretentious-pod-pipers-of-popularity and we're the foolish-fawning-flea-farm-of--f*ckheads following the out of key melody of their lush, lavish, luxurious lies they live that should be like poison to our ears.

Listen, they have a job where they PRETEND to be SOMEONE ELSE, SOMEWHERE ELSE, doing SOMETHING ELSE. And don't PRETEND like they don't…cause they're f*ckn' ACTORS, remember?

Yet, we adventurously admire and adulate the fake, farce, fictional freak-a-zoids like they're best thing since SLICED DOUGH. Ironically they've spent the preponderance of their DOUGH on being SLICED twice as much than that loaf of Wonder Bread!

EVEN IF…the baker was a SAMURAI SWORD

Swinging  stunt double for Tarantino's Kill Bill Vol 2 cinematic blood baths!

Now hey when a civilian says the term 'PLASTIC SURGERY' it refers to maxing out a MasterCard. When a celebrity says it, they're referring to Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays at the Joan River's Clinic.

Honestly, don’t deny SILICON VALLEY isn’t populated by a parade of SILICONE VALLEYS!

Really folks, an average archetypal actress is an air compressor away from being a rubber sex toy!

Oh yah, nor do I mind if Blow-up-Bootaylicious-Betty is being an AIRHEAD or making me feel the effects of INFLATION on a first date cause she's just such a DOLL that manages to leave me BREATHLESS!

Christ's sake, at least my Blow-up-Bosom-Babe has an excuse for FAKE TITS, FAKE LIPS &…She's REAL enough NOT to  FAKE ORGASMS!

But look, now there's PEZ PELLETS everywhere, f*ck it, E! True Hollywood News is on.

  wish Mother's Day came after Labor Day. It would be so damn literal! "Hey, when's Father's Day?" "I don't know. But it's 9 1/2 months before Labor Day!" -mrj 2009 (c)

7-29-09

Now I don't want to pontificate but why in a modern age are we bound by the shackles of  irrelevant guidelines so out dated they make Alexander Graham Bell's first prototypes look like an updated iPhone from the year 2025?

I mean seriously between the rules of religious documents from other millenniums to the regulations of legal documents from other centuries the newest code we follow is 6 months older than McCain's great-great grandfather's baby journal photos on papyrus.

Gandhi said, before you break the rules, you must know them. Well hey study time is over, final exams are graded and it's time to cut loose over Spring Break in Cancun, alright?

Hey, stop waiting for Godot, pick up the pen, and let's make these arbitrary absurdities less strict than Fellini as Drill Master Sergeant at Fascism boot camp.

Seriously folks, I mean, let's not cite from the Sex Pistol's lyrics or the pages of the Anarchist's Cookbook.

But let's face it people, wind your sundial from BC to digital with a little Abby Hoffman revolution or James Dean rebellion by declaring a new independence from the old Declaration of Independence.

Alright, hell the Old Testament was old since the birth of Christ. It's so old that we consider it's 2000 yr young sequel the NEW one, okay!

What I'm saying is, if we don't upgrade from all these ridiculous relic restrictions then we're a twelve sided dice piece and nerdy-anal-retentive-level 6-wizard of middle earth away from following more stupid instructions than a level-1-newbie-dwarf in a dictatorship of Dungeons and Dragons.

Bottom line and truth be told, times change, people change, and so should our hand books of social norms.

On the other hand I said I don't want to pontificate, so whatever, y'know?

THE END OF ENGLISH

-Now, I promise to prevent precipitous postulations and pointless pontifications.

Honestly folks, when did the 'now English' become the 'new Latin?'

Look, nowadays, English's exasperation of erudition and eloquence is dependent on life support system.

Hey, lately, it appears so close to death it's one late insurance payment away from being unplugged, you know?

I mean, listen, English tried to request euthanasia copious occasions.

Fact is, it couldn't find the words and needed a dictionary like dementia victims reading their own auto-biography and being surprised.

And, Oh, by the way, soon it'll be diminished, dead, and dismissed.

You see, yesterdays cassette tape walkman of languages erased by Espanola the iPod of tomorrows talk.

Hey, truth be told, English's existence is endeavoring endangerment edging extinction entirely.

Let's face it folks, museums will exhibit pre-Hispanic speaking era fossils of Thesaurus Nexus juxtaposing prehistoric non-speaking era fossils of Tyrannosaurs Rexes, all right?

Now, our vernacular, vocabulary, and will vanish at velocity while violins will play a minor key sonata.

Christ's sake, I mean, English's FINAL words will have to be translated by Rosetta Stone post humanely.

Of course, then we'll have misinterpreted wills, mispronounced eulogy, and misspelled tombstone.

Hey, bottom line folks, at that point, mourners will truly be speechless, okay?

written by mr.j 2009 (c)

Honestly, when did mouth-breathing-barbaric-louses use the computer so
much that we make Bill Gates look like an Amish Ted Kaczynski?

Look, this pixilated intellectual prism is populated by a parade of
texting, tweeting, twittering, bulletins, blogs, blurbs, black
berries, black boards, e-mails, and g-mails.

For Christ's sake, this human collective's blindly acquisitive nature
of asinine antics has elicited the intrusive perpetuation of the term
'login' more than Paul Bunion at a Lumber Jack Convention.

Listen folks, nowadays the cyberspace-Stargate has reconfigured the
molecular structure of the basic rules of human discourse.

What I'm saying is, banality of banter flourishes like a Blue Angel
soaring through social-stratospheric-chat-fests and caroming off
intergalactic solar plexuses of vastly vacant headed vernacular.

Truth be told, acronyms have stormed the beaches of conversations
resonating from the deepest part of my skull to the pillars of
Hercules to the café at the fucking Thunder Dome okay.

Face it, sump-sucking conversations orchestrate more mouse clicks than
when Mickey tap danced while speaking Ethiopian with a pocket full of
Tic Tacs.

There's a fine line between writing a smart joke and a stupid riddle. "I didn't get it at first but now I understand…why I wasn't laughing earlier..."

-I read the auto-bio written by the writer of CLIFF'S NOTES.    

Chapter One: "I was born."

Chapter Two: I realized in class lectures that I have ADD and slow handwriting while taking notes.

Chapter Three: THE END!!!

-I was a pen pal with a chicken but I could never read his hand writing.

-"Employee of the month" for seasonal jobs is an award for 1/3 of your total career.

-If you think about it, it's a drive-thru parking lot…the restaurant is better described driven around…it's only drive-thru restaurants during a horrendous car collision for hungry drivers.

-I wanted writer's block so instead I write only use invisible ink, with invisible pens, but the paper is hard to miss.

-I like to put white out on paper before I write to prevent from mistakes.

-Tank tops should only be in camouflage.

"Man this fluorescent fabric was a bad choice. I better wear this shirt in across enemy lines."

-Do you think when ..Edison.. had the idea for the light bulb, a candle popped up over his head?

-I went to the doctor. All he did was make a big deal over nothing. Don't go see Dr. Amatic!

-....Columbus.... didn't like to shop. But if he did, he should have went to a store specializing in flat globes…because the customer is always right!

-I got my teeth cleaned with a spit shine!

-If you combine the letters K and N, K becomes a silent letter. I wish K would stop being so shy and tight lipped when he hangs out with his buddy, N who does all the talking.

"Hey, N, Knock knock?"

"Speak up."

"Ka nock ka nock"?

"Who's there?"

"Ka-new then and Ka-now now"

"Ka-new then who and ka-know now who? "

"Ka-new then was phonetic pronunciations for canoe boats or Keanu Reeves …"

"Hahaha…."

"Wait there's more…Ka-now now that I'm no longer your silent partner when we Ka-nit a sweater, Ka-not shoelaces, Ka-neel down on one Ka-nee or I'll Ka-nife you to death!"

Then a (parenthesis police dept)  squad car creeps up, "This is the PPD. We have you surrounded. And remember that everyone's a silent letter when we patrol the streets bitches. So both of you shut the fuck up!"

N whispers to K, "Happy now, god damn it?"