365 lines
14 KiB
Groff
365 lines
14 KiB
Groff
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Newsgroups: rec.humor
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Subject: SCHIDT #3 - NOV 92 **14K**
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Message-ID: <sanderso-030393225451@ch-lab-mac-h.gac.edu>
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From: sanderso@gacvx2.gac.edu (Scott T. Anderson)
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Date: 3 Mar 93 21:55:13 -0600
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Organization: Schidt, Schidt, My Kingdom for Schidt
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Lines: 356
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THE SCHIDT
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ISSUE #3
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THANKSGIVING 1992
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Published by Scott T. Anderson and Dale L. Houston
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E-mail correspondence:
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sanderso@gacvx2.gac.edu
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This issue of the Schidt was converted for e-mail on 23 February 1993
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"Sorry, we're not seething cauldrons of testosterone like you." --David
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Crowe
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Condom Boy's Corner
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By Scott T. Anderson
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There's a first to everything. Someone had to be the first person to hear
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the real singing voices of Rob Pilatus and Fab Morvan (Milli Vanilli for
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those of you who didn't know what I was talking about in "This not That"
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from issue 1; also, I wonder if Rob is a distant descendant of Pontius
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Pilatus). Well enough of that gibberish.
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Here's something I was pondering as I felt the blustery winds in my silken
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hair today: I bet Jesus had dreadlocks.
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And now just a moment to officially congratulate Bill Clinton and Al Gore.
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Way to go, guys. Now get to work.
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I would like you all to know how much work goes into every issue of the
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Schidt. Endless hours and effort are expended on every article to make
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sure that the Schidt is pleasing to you, the reader. In fact, just coming
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up with the name The Schidt was a major undertaking. Now that I've set
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this up properly, here I present our top ten rejected names for the Schidt.
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10. Pneumoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
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9. Rodent Molesters' Journal
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8. The Only Thing Between Me and a Decent GPA
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7. Dale
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6. I Can't Believe it's not Garbage!
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5. Foreskin Today
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4. Your Destiny
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3. The Better Bedwetter Letter
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2. Genitalia-R-Us
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1. The Fuhque
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Have a happy Thanksgiving, and remember what they always say; Don't eat
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pumpkin pie and drive. Thank you. (There, I've done my thanks giving.)
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SOMETHING FOR CII STUDENTS:
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Livy Paper Titles
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By Chris Roberts
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Livy: A Man, a Machine, or Just Another Fool?
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Livy: The Historian, the Roman, the Slam-dancer
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Livy and the Origins of Rap
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Livy Unclothed or Livy in his Skivvies
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Livy and the Communist Dream
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Livy: Hope for Feminism or Nixon Mark I
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Livy: A Man of Few Words and Great Deeds
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Fundamentally Oral Livy
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Middle-aged, Bald, Obese Black Slaves and Why Livy Loved Them
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Livy: Just Another Chew Toy
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Livy: A Boy and his Dog; a Man and his Sheep
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Livy and a Cat Named Bill
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The Apathetic Livy: The Origins of Perspective
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Why the Romans Drank Wine, not Beer
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I, Livy
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Livy on the Brain
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A Freudian View of Livy the Sex Machine
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Livy and the Guys--Hanging Out
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An In-Depth Psychoanalysis of Livy and his Effect on the Collapse of the
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Roman Empire as Related to the Post-WWII Era Desire for Twinkies
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King Livy
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Long Livy, the King
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Livy Tells the Tales
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Bedtime Stories of the Roman Empire: A Lengthy Dissertation by Livy
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From the Depth Rises Livy
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Livy and the Roman Soultrain
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The Effect of Livy on Modern Heavy Metal Music
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Livy: Einstein or Gomer Pyle?
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I Dream of Livy with the Dark Brown Hair
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Livy: Live in Central Park
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Livy's Greatest Hits
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Livy and his Bearded Wife
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Long John Livy
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When it's Livy, Livy, Livy on the Label, Label, Label then it's Good,
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Good, Good to Read
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The Top Ten Reasons for Men
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By Judy Willemssen
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10. Lawn care and vehicle maintenance
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9. To kill creepy, crawly things
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8. To take out the garbage
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7. So girls have buns to admire
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6. Who else would watch football?
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5. Dogs need friends, too
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4. Someone has to be wrong
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3. Hey--not everyone likes nailing Jell-O to trees
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2. To give the word "ego" a reason to be in the dictionary
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1. So the penis has a life-support system
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Attention All Sexual Deviants!!!
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The JIZMATRON, which has gained international recognition for quality in
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the world's finest brothels, is now available for home use! The JIZMATRON
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is the finest personal sexual stimulation device on the market. For a free
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brochure, call Rhonda 24 hours a day at 1-800-421-2444.
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This not That
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By Scott T. Anderson
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On the toilet not in the bushes. (This is the classic "this not that.")
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Erik Estrada in 1970's TV series not Erik Estrada in a Taco Bell
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commercial.
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("Excuse me, ma'am, but do you have a license for that taco?")
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This not that not Livy paper.
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Sunny San Diego, California not pleasant-smelling St. Peter, Minnesota.
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Half-and-half (cottage cheese style) in the "hot dog house" not
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green-and-black moldy yogurt behind the couch.
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I reiterate: Clinton/Gore not Bush/Quayle!!!
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Bass not bass.
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'Cello not trout (just to clarify the previous).
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Picard, Data, and Worf not Riker, Troi, and Yar.
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Anyone on earth or in hell (even the Ferengi) not Wesley Crusher.
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Picard and Beverly Crusher not Picard and Wesley Crusher and
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Definitely not Beverly and Wesley.
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Grandma's Big Adventure
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By David Crowe
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The tale begins one dreary night,
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When grandma went insane.
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The brutal killings didn't stop
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Until the town was slain.
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She went to bed, and slept till morn
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That night she went insane.
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When she awoke, her mind was gone,
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And scrambled were her brains.
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Her maid came to her house and said,
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"My God! She's gone insane!"
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So grandma went and stabbed the girl.
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She used a weather vane.
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She went outside her door and said,
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"I'll show 'em I'm not insane."
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She found a big construction site
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And got inside a crane.
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She drove it into town that day.
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The woman was insane.
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She crashed into a crowded bus.
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The people died in pain.
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She killed again and then some more
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She clearly was insane.
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But then she stopped, and killed no more,
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For everyone was slain.
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How to play...
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HIDE JIM'S PANTS
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By Dale L. Houston
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"Hey! Where the hell did you put my pants?! I want my goddamn pants
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back!"
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--Jim
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Players: 2 or more (the more the better)
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Equipment: 1 person named Jim (wearing pants)
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1 pair of pants (property of Jim)
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1 large area to hide pants
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Object: To hide Jim's pants so he cannot find them.
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How to play: All of the players whose names are not Jim must hide and be
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very quiet. When Jim walks, runs, jogs, skips, mambos, jazzercises, or
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meanders by, all of the hidden players leap out and tackle him. After
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that, Jim's pants are removed and hidden. The fun of the game is watching
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Jim run around in his underwear trying to find his trousers. If Jim finds
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them within one hour, he wins. If it takes him more than one hour,
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everyone else wins.
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Places to play: The mall, school, church, football games (any sporting
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event), concerts, town meetings, a neighbor's house, the police station, or
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Tibet.
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Optional equipment: Hand grenades, land mines, yak hairballs, catnip,
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bananas, egg substitute, liquid heat, flags, small dogs, or barbed wire.
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HAVE FUN!
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How to Take Notes
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Submitted (but not written) by Dale L. Houston
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When Professor Mitchell says:
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"Probably the greatest quality of the poetry of John Milton, who was born
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in 1608, is the combination of beauty and power. Few have surpassed him in
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the use of the English language, or for that matter, in lucidity of verse
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form, 'Paradise Lost' being said to be the greatest single poem ever
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written."
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You write:
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John Milton, born 1608
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When Professor Mitchell says:
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"When Lafayette first came to this country, he discovered America. The
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Americans needed his help if their cause was to survive, and this he
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promptly supplied them."
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You write:
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Lafayette discovered America.
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When Professor Mitchell says:
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"Current historians have come to doubt the complete advantageousness of
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some of Roosevelt's policies."
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You write:
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Most of the problems that now face the United States are directly traceable
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to the bungling and greed of President Roosevelt.
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When Professor Mitchell says:
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"...it is possible that we do not understand the Soviet viewpoint...."
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You write:
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Professor Mitchell is a communist.
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When Professor Mitchell says:
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"The puissance of hydrochloric acid is incontestable; however, the
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corrosive residue is inharmonious with metallic persistence."
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You write:
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Hydrochloric acid eats the hell out of steel.
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Ode to a Piece of Shit
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By Wayne Boeke
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Praise be to you oh piece of shit,
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for sliding out and relieving my
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tightened sphincter.
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Many a day have I dreamed
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of this load
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to be dropped
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with such ease and stature.
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Yet, others must know my feeling
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as I say, "Man, I tell you, I must take the throne"
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or "I declare, I must excuse myself, for I will lay some cable,"
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and they emerge from the water closet
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with smiles bright.
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This praise be dedicated
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for the lack of extreme firmness
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and the riddance of the watering blotching grungies.
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I say again,
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Good fortune to the crap that flows out one's asshole so nicely.
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Turkey Day Exposed
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By Dale L. Houston
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Why do we still call the 4th Thursday in November Thanksgiving Day?
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People don't give anymore, and they sure as hell don't thank with any
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sincerity. The name implies that it is a joyful holiday, but it isn't.
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Thanksgiving marks the beginning of a horrible time in our history, when we
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stole and plundered and generally took from the Native Americans and said
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not a word of thanks for their land. I think, as my roommate put it so
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eloquently, the name should be changed to "Rudetaking Day."
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Have you ever noticed how at the Rudetaking Day feast you have to at least
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try everything your relatives make? The pungent odor of cranberry sauce
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makes you hurl, but you must take a big bite and smile, trying not to let
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the goo slip out of the corners of your mouth. Then after the
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ever-so-happy cook leaves to get the next course, you let the glob of
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wretched food fall into the gaping maw of the family pet, Spotty the llama.
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Soon after, just before the chef returns, everyone shreds the cooking
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ability of the absent party. How nice.
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After the meal comes football. Why football? I think that a sport that
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uses the two worst aspects of American society (violence and committee
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decision) should not be televised. Why couldn't there be the Rudetaking
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Day Family Follies, where hidden cameras pick up the conversation when the
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chef left the room. That would be great (until the year it happened to
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your family; then the shit would really hit the proverbial fan). Just
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imagine Aunt Betty punching Uncle Harold in his quivering gut with a
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fistful of sharp, dry turkey shards... how pleasant.
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Well, that's my idea for this holiday. Have fun, and watch out for the
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cameras!
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Gobble gobble gobble gobble gobble gobble gobble....
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NITROGEN FIXING BACTERIA
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By "Big Del"
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Although the title of this persiflage may lead you to believe in stainless
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Kool-Aid, I am not trying to do anything along the lines of creating a
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super-ultra-deluxe beef patty. Rather, my aim is to show how important it
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is to distinguish between the two varieties of living beings--vertebrates
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vs. invertebrates, more commonly known as things that go squish-crunch, or
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crunch-squish. The reason for this is because a small band of left-handed
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lemmings invaded a small tobacco shop in London and claimed the crown of
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France. Regarding this situation, a reputable source (a sincere
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quarter-sized spot of semi-coagulated tomato soup) was quoted as saying,
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"Divine-human relationships are esoteric."
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The Adventures of Dr. Shnoogenblagen
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By David Crowe
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Part One
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"To murder him I lust,
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And up his nostrils Hot bananas thrust!"
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--From "Blackadder the Third"
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Dr. Shnoogenblagen awoke to the sound of a German cow chanting "Waaaake
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up! Don't shleep your life avay!" A quick shot with a .357 Magnum soon
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solved the problem of the noisy (and quite annoying) alarm clock. Dr.
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Shnoogenblagen then went (A note on the official title of the story's
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protagonist: Shnoogenblagen is not really a doctor. More precisely, he is
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a sadistic and demented homicidal maniac. Thank you and sorry for the
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interruption.) outside to check his mail. For weeks he had been waiting
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for his package to arrive, and was constantly dejected when he opened his
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mail box, only to find Badge-A-Minit catalogues and Mormon video tapes.
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But today was different. When he saw the Torturers-R-Us label, he was
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beside himself with joy. He quickly snatched the package and ran inside
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with it clutched to his breast.
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Once inside, he opened the wrapper and took out his Super-Deluxe
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Torturer's Kit. The brochure had promised hours upon hours of wild and
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wacky torturing fun, and Shnoogenblagen was sure he wouldn't be
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disappointed. Leafing through the instruction booklet, the good doctor
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noticed that the kit didn't actually contain any victims on whom he could
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perform any acts of mindless violence. "Damn!" he thought, "I forgot. The
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Super-Deluxe Torturer<65>s Kit doesn't come with victims. You only get
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victims if you order the Super-Deluxe CLUB MODEL Torturer's Kit. Oh well,
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I guess finding victims shouldn't be too hard."
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Shnoogenblagen hopped in his van and drove off to the mall. Once there,
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he said to the first passer-by that he met, "Excuse me, sir! Would you
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like to get in my van with me, drive home to my house, and let me try out
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my new torture devices on you?" The man gave Dr. Shnoogenblagen an uneasy
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look and buggered off. After trying this approach for about an hour and
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only getting one volunteer (a high school-aged kid in a tie-dyed shirt who
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was obviously stoned agreed to come with the good doctor), Shnoogenblagen
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started to try a different, and much more successful tactic. With a large
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club, Shnoogenblagen bashed five unsuspecting victims senseless and dragged
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them off to his van. When he got home, he was giddy with anticipation of
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the gratuitous brutality to come....
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-Can our hero finish everybody off in time for dinner?
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-What fiendish devices of cruel torture will he use?
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-Will the audacious Shnoogenblagen leave anyone alive?
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Find out in the next installment of...
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THE ADVENTURES OF DR. SHNOOGENBLAGEN!!!
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Thanks for reading the Schidt.
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