—You’ll do what, exactly? Boycott him? C’mon. He’s like smack to you people.
Speaking of which, just two nights ago we held an intervention to help the little fella get the monkey off his back. Which, I’ll be the first to admit, was one of the most emotionally draining experiences of my life.
Still, it was the right thing to do—even if it meant sedating the wretched simian with horse tranquilizer and then having a dentist friend of ours amputate its feet with a sterilized Wüsthof 10” Culinar chef’s knife and cauterize the stumps on a hotplate.
And in case you’re wondering, yes—that’s the last time I’ll let the little shelled bastard and his friends huff glue without adult supervision. But in my defense, how was I supposed to know he would roll around in the stuff afterwards, then manage to get a stray pygmy marmoset he picked up at a yard sale last weekend epoxied to his armor?
You don’t seriously expect us to believe he wasn’t dancing as he tried to get that pygmy off his back, do you?
Couldn’t tell ya’. Found them both passed out and covered in Funyons.
I’m starting to get a ‘sockpuppetty’ feel about this so called ‘dillo’.
Are you sure he’s not a yellow snapping turtle, all rouged up in grey Mary Kay powder?
Next operation: removal of the chip on his shoulder.
Well, the ‘dillo really screwed up. If that monkey didn’t get his feet amputated, the ‘dillo could have bought a grinder organ, taught the monkey to dance for us every Friday.
As a bonus, the ‘dillo might have made a fortune with that monkey on a street corner, imitating Fred Astair for loose change.
But, no, that panzer rat had to give into his vices, depriving us of entertainment and himself a steady income.
But I gotta know, Jeff…..after the amputation, did you leave those simian feet on the ‘dillo? As a sort of trophy?
T/W: foot. I shit you not….if that had been “feet” I would have grabbed my .45 and peppered my computer.
Mmmmmmm, did someone say “Funyuns”?
Personally,I am now more interested in seeing the poor footless monkey dancing on it’s crutches.
I’ve got a taser you can borrow to give it incentive…..
Let me get this straight: you amputated the feet of a dancing armadillo?!? Are you out of your mind? Jesus, Jeff, your worse than that construction worker who found that frog who could sing “Michigan Rag” in the cornerstone of an old building. Although I must admit, I was kinda looking forward to when you were going to try that “Free Beer” promotion.
And now what? instead of a dancing armadillo we’re only going to get to see him waddle around on his stumps?
LMFAO.
Oh Jesus, it was the monkey whose feet you amputated. I about blew a gasket thinking it was the ‘dillo. Shit, I was about to demand you publicize the name of your dentist so I could get his goddam license pulled. But it was the monkey. Well…fuck the monkey.
Besides, even a footless monkey can still torture cats. Just give him a little stick and point to the cat. He’ll know what to do.
yours/
peter.
Like smack? More like the rainbow that lives in the Elk River that I can never catch…
Which, I guess, is a lot like smack…only without Travis Bickle.
– So now you have a deadbeat ‘dillo, a typing telephone pole, and a quadrapelegic monkey in your stable. All you need is Tom Thumberal, a Progessive midget with the worlds smallist brain, and MrMiss Hershey, half man, half woman, but all nuts, to start a new carreer as Barker of a freak show. Shouldn’t take you much longer. God knows you get enough trolls auditioning in here.
I’m starting to get the nasty suspicion – I know you’ll be shocked – that there is no armadillo, dancing or any other kind. It’s a cruel, vicious hoax by that paste-eating Goldstein bastard.
Then, the very next second, I’m all “No!! Jeff wouldn’t do that!” an’ shit.
It’s very stressful. I think I’d better self-medicate, just to be on the safe side.
SB: believe
I want to
I am not positive you are really talking about the “little” guy, but if I read this right sounds like you and the Mrs. had to do a little tough love on the little guy sleeping in his own bed/room?
I know this sucked butt in my world. In fact, it took my son for his own self to be very uncomfortable till he stopped “sneaking” into bed in the morning hours.
Elbows.
“simian”, huh? That fits. You’ve finally let the cat skeleton out of the stained and baggy shorts in the closet! I’ve been wondering all along what kind of sick, freakish union of… uh… freaks could have produced such an abomination as your much touted, yet largely mythological dancing armadillo.
This armadillo is MISOGYNATED! He is nothing more than a product of TAINTED MONKEY LOVE! (Oh, wait: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, sorry)
You will of course burn in Hell, yada yada, sinner, blah blah, blasphemer, and etc.
This joke–>
(whoosh!)
me
farking pygmy marmoset’s….
shaddup and hand me that bottle.
Ugh.
Yeah, our screaming ball of fat had the same problem. She used to creep along the floor way past everybody’s bedtime, till we suddenly found her between us, giving us a look that just DARED us to put her back in her cage.
I’ve been burdened with this knowledge for almost two weeks, and I hesitate to share it with you now. But I feel it is my duty, as a citizen journalist apprentice, to do so now. The real meaning of Jeff’s dancin’ armadillo.
There, I’ve said it. Now I have to shower. And drink my guilt away. In the shower.
TW: I’m probably banned from church now.
OK, the link broke for some reason. But scroll down the list of terms on the left until you find Dancin’ Armadillo.
He’s like smack to you people.
True enough. I’ve never seen herion either.
Or heroin.
It sure looks like Floyd Landis just won the Tour de France.
Viva la USA!
No! We’d just end up with more monkeys!
Jeez, what is it with you people and your fetish for interspecies sex?
armored dildo?
Wusthof Culinar??? The damn paring knife is $95! Why exactly are we hitting the tip jar again?
(I prefer Henckels Professional-S, myself, with Kyocera ceramics for fine work.)
If Regis told him to dance, he would dance, baby.
(Did you see him on Fox? He was so…stern. Lovely.)
From the radio traffic on my scanner, Denver Zoo just figured out the marmoset was missing.
ewwww-
You didn’t see her good side…
T/W: Yup… I would definitely need two brown paper bags!
Am*nda has a squarer jaw than Schwartzeneggar.
TW: I’m sure the view’s not much better from behind.
Well, I’m a completely impartial observer with no ivolvement with any of the parties concerned, and I know for a fact Jeff is right about the Armadillo…
SÃÂ.
SÃÂ.
Hate to break it to everyone, but SciFi’s Friday night line up featured a dancing armadillo. During one of their bumps—a meteorite comes streaking across the screen, bumps into their logo, bounces off, and turns into an armadillo. It dances—or possibly staggers—back a few steps, then stumbles off the screen.
Coincidence?
I don’t think so.
That was staggering. If you’d just come flying in at meteoric speds and bounced off a logo, you’d stagger too. Don’t say you wouldn’t, just because you’re used to walking on only two legs.
Caption:
“Get your fithy minds off my uterus, you rapist bastards!”
Jeff,
You pretend that you are not responsible here … but isn’t this what happened the last time that the ‘dillo huffed glue?
I always feel wittier than normal when commenting on PW posts, but I’ve been on vacation, and now, well, without a Friday dance from either the ‘dillo or some other non-hibernating mammal my carefully maintained suspension of disbelief is about to crash down into a dark hole of reality-based to-do lists at work and home. So continue to enjoy all this, I have a garden to tend, in the Candidian sense….
tw account, as in “no-account, low-life commenter”
I love it when you talk about Michael Moore-on and his movies.