Tammy the blind date: “Honestly, Regis. I don’t know how you can be thinking about sex at a time like this!– not when hundreds of thousands of people in the gulf region are trapped—starving and injured, blistered by the sun, homeless, frightened…”
“Regis”: “Listen, darling. The Wal-Marts are gonna get looted whether you ride the mustache or not. I’m just trying to take away the pain. Now make up your mind already, would you? I can’t stay bushy all night.”
BINGO!
Tammy: Whoah-ho-ho-hoooahh!!! Is that Salvador Dali’s mustache that just walked in?
“Regis”: Dammit!
i was just thinking this is one loooooooong ass date.
Hmmm. Mustache envy. That explains alot. Now I understand Hitler.
First you attack Cindy Sheehan and now you make jokes about the tragic situation in the gulf – you are quite the entertainer, aren’t you.
As my old grandad who was stationed in India used to say…
“It was never a party until Gandhi showed up.”
Is it a party yet? I don’t see any streamers or give-away bags.
TW-trying. Very hard, by the way.
I guess Gandhi hasn’t heard what CINDY! has been saying recently. But you keep up that JEFF ATTACKED OUR CINDY! thing. It’s a keeper!
As for the hurricane—John Bolton’s straight-talking mustache is just being honest: life goes on, and we who weren’t physically affected by the storm can feel sorrow and provide assistance in all sorts of ways without having to put our lives completely on hold.
At least, that’s what I think he’s saying.
Speaking for myself, though, I don’t consider the fact of Hurricane Katrina to be an instance where slapping my grief on the table and measuring it against others’ grief is appropriate. But you go right on doing so if that’s what helps you cope. Sanctimony just ain’t my deal. And public sanctimony is about the most revolting thing in the world to me. But as I say, to each his own.
Of course, you being from Australia and all, I’d suggest you just stay out of this one—but then, you don’t strike me as someone who has that kind of good sense…
There’s a rumor that Regis and Geraldo’s ‘stache are one and the same – a little like Michael and LaToya – have you seen those ‘staches in the same room before? See.
Hey ghandi—My dad’s home 200 yards off Pass Christian beach is now rubble. My brother and sister’s home are damaged, but OK, though their jobs may disappear. I don’t think Jeff is making light of their plight or others. Your remark actually lessens my perception of whether you care or not.
And in America, we capitalize it– “The Gulf.”
Ah, don’t mind Ghandi. He’s just pissy because “Regis” gets more play than he does.
Listen, gandhi. The Wal-Marts are gonna get looted whether Jeff makes jokes or not. He’s just trying to take away the pain.
Is this episode gonna be the one that gets Cinemax After Dark‘s attention? I hear they’ve been looking for something to satisfy the public’s desire for mustache soft-porn.
Say gandhi, have you been ordered by your superiors to hijack silly threads here? That must be it, otherwise I can’t understand why a healthy racist stud like you isn’t out painting swastikas on Jewish headstones or something.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say your actions suggest you are part of a conspiracy. A conspiracy to keep Regis and Tammy from getting it on. Now, who would stand to benefit from that? Who is cunning enough to pull it off. Could it be…nah, the irony would be too delicious. Our pal gandhi- a Mossad agent?
Amber: are you implying that Jeff is “Regis” to our Tammy?
Because I would wholeheartedly agree.
Tammy the Blind Date: “Regis, I can’t believe you’re so cold-blooded. So many people were suffering, and all you could do was look at Condi in her new shoes. How could I ever love someone like that?”
Regis: “Baby, this ain’t about love. Now open wide before I go Rice-harvesting!”
As an aside to Gandhi: My parents got their house in Gulfport destroyed. They are now safe and sheltered elsewhere, and are looking at being that way for months, if not a year. Their reaction to your false-compassion clap would be much the same as mine: In situations like this, you either cry, scream or laugh. The latter is the most socially appropriate, and the safest for everyone around.
So please kindly pile up a nice 2-meter pile of sand, get a trusty hammer, and go pound that pile of sand up your ass.